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Chapter Text

Gullywasher.

That’s what Papa would have called it. He would have shaken his head, adjusted his hat, and said in his thick drawl, “that there’s what we call a gullywasher.” Well, it might have washed a gully, but nothing could wash the filth from the streets of Gotham.

The rain mixed with the blood dripping on the ground, making swirls in the oil slicks of the back alley. Bess could barely hear her heart pounding over the rain. Her vision blurred, and she swiped at the rain on her face. She spat, a mix of mucus and blood hitting the concrete under her feet. Her jaw ached, and she was sure she’d cracked a tooth, but there was no time to worry about that now.

“Give it up, girl, you can’t win this.” A harsh smoker’s voice was barely audible over the rain. A crack of lightning lit the alleyway briefly, and she could see her three attackers, dressed in suits split down the middle, black on the left and white on the right. She’d held her own against them so far, but she was just a kid. They’d win eventually.

“Fuck you,” she hissed, drops of blood flying from her teeth. “Look, kid,” the one in the middle took a step forward. “Just give up. You can’t beat the big man yourself. Agree to leave Gotham tonight, and you survive this.” He sounded almost sympathetic. Bess didn’t buy it for a second. There was no way Two-Face would just let her walk away, not after the ‘anonymous tip’ she’d sent in about his most recent smuggling operation that had resulted in warehouse raids across the city. It was enough evidence to put him away for life.

Bess brought her fists back up to her face, and let out a sharp breath.

The thug seemed resigned, and shrugged. “Have it your way.” He raised his spiked bat above his head. Bess willed her body to move, but it was a second too slow, and the bat came down with a painful crack on her shoulder. She cried out and dropped to the concrete, choking back shrill screams.

Do it for Jason, she told herself, but it wasn’t enough to get off the ground. She scrambled backwards until her back hit the brick. She clutched her shoulder, feeling the bones shift around. “Damn it,” she whined, her tears mixing with the rain.

“Last chance, kid,” The thug stood over her, his expression unreadable under the split mask. “Get lost.”

“I cant!” She shouted, barely containing her sobs. “You fuckers killed him!” Shame flooded her face when she couldn’t stop crying.

The thug didn’t answer. He lifted the bat again, and Bess braced for the blow. I’m sorry, Jason, she thought.

The blow never came, and Bess opened her eyes to see the thug on the ground. He was still breathing, but his neck was at an awkward angle. His eyes stared blankly at the sky.

Blinking through blurry tears, she saw a slim shape moving like a shadow, landing blow after blow against the remaining two thugs. She recognized a yellow and green outfit, and relief flooded her. She had never seen the infamous Robin in person, but she was glad that it was now.

Robin made quick work of the thugs. He brushed his hands off, his shoulders squared. There was something familiar about him. Bess leaned her head back against the brick wall, unable to think straight with the pain, and let the rain wash blood off of her face for a moment.

“Are you alright?” Robin stood in front of her, holding out a hand. Familiar blue eyes met hers, and she just stared for a moment. She knew that voice. She knew those eyes.

“Miss?” Robin knelt down in front of her, holding a hand out to touch her temple, the green leather of his gloves smooth and cold. “Can you hear me?”

Bess reached up with her good arm and grabbed his wrist. Robin seemed surprised, but didn’t stop her. She leaned forward with some effort, putting her nose next to his wrist. She inhaled deeply. He smelled of sweat, soap, and beneath that, the familiar scent of engine grease and soot. It would take longer than a mere year to wash off the smells of the streets of Gotham.

“Jason?” She asked, searching his eyes for some hint of recognition. If she was wrong, it would be embarrassing, but if she was right, it would change everything. She almost hoped to be wrong. She was already in too deep.

Robin jerked back, and she knew that she was right. “Holy shit,” she said, and broke into a coughing fit. Her ribs ached from the blows that had landed on them. “Jason, I thought you were dead,” she managed between gasps. She slumped back against the brick, sucking in air.

“Bess,” Jason said, rubbing his wrist as if she had hurt him. “Look, I wanted to tell you-” She cut him off. “I thought you were dead!” She shouted, then winced as the effort wracked her ribs. Her shoulder had started to throb, and as the adrenaline wore off, her jaw began to hurt like hell.

“Dead?” Jason shook his head. “I’m good, Bess.”

“You’re an asshole,” she grunted. “You disappeared without a fucking word, I thought Two-Face had gotten you, after all that mess about your dad.”

“Is that why you’re getting your ass kicked by his thugs?” He gestured to the bodies of the unconscious thugs, with an almost humorous tone. Bess opened her mouth to answer, but stopped when she caught sight of a hulking black figure at the end of the alley. “Robin,” a deep, gravelly voice seemed to echo, despite the rain.

Jason jumped to his feet, turning towards the figure. “Batman! The thugs are down. This is-”

“I’ve called the police, and an ambulance.” The figure stepped into the dim light, and it was, in fact, Batman himself. He was even bigger in person, and Bess fought to keep from shrinking away. Sharp blue eyes met hers, and softened. “Are you alright?” The Bat asked. The hard lines around his mouth softened, and she found that he was slightly less intimidating. It didn’t help much.

“Jason,” Bess looked back towards him, and he visibly winced at the sound of his name.

Batman’s shoulders stiffened visibly. As his scowl grew, Bess couldn’t stop from shrinking away from him. He stepped closer, his steps slow and deliberate. “You told her your name? Robin, you know-”

“We know each other!” Robin jumped to defend himself. “She was- is- my best friend, she knew who I am. I didn’t tell her!” His voice cracked as he spoke, and he cleared his throat. “Batman, we have to help her. She can fight just as well as I can, if not better. We could-”

“No.” Batman shook his head. He turned to her. “The ambulance will be here soon.”

“Two-Face was trying to kill her, Batman. This was the hit we heard about.” Robin insisted. “He won't stop here. Please, I can’t just leave her behind. Not again.”

It had been almost a year since Jason had vanished. He had been alive all this time, and hadn’t so much as slipped her a note. If she had the energy, Bess would be furious. Instead, she just listened to them discuss her fate. Jason was right, if she stayed where she was, Two-Face would kill her for what she had done. She’d been hounding them for months, disrupting smuggling lines and busting trade rings, just hoping to get the chance to find the man himself. She’d been a real nuisance.

“Robin,” Batman began, gentler than before. “Think about this. This life is just as hard as-”

“Oh, fuck off,” Robin spat, squaring his shoulders. Bess almost laughed. She doubted that many people spoke to Batman like that.

“Look at her,” Jason said, gesturing at her. “She’s just as bad as I was when you found me.” He turned to Bess. “When was the last time you ate something? Are you still living in that old warehouse?”

Bess didn’t answer, but lowered her head, her face burning with shame. It had been days, and instead of trying to feed herself, she’d spent most of her time hunting Two-Face. It had been survivable when it was the two of them, but the past year had wreaked havoc on her body and her mind.

“Come on, Bats. At least let me bring her to the Cave, Penny-One can patch her up and get her something hot to eat. Please.” Robin’s fists were clenched.

Batman was silent for what felt like an eternity. He turned to Bess, and knelt in front of her. She shied away, but met his gaze. “Is this something you want?” He asked her. “If we do this, there’s no going back.”

Bess gathered her courage and answered. “There’s nothing to go back to anyway, big guy.” She gestured towards Jason. “My drive for revenge seems to have fizzled out. I’m in deep shit now,” she flashed a bloody smile, her chest squeezing as she refrained from coughing on him.

Batman let out a deep sigh. “Fine, but you’re responsible for her, Robin.”

“Don’t worry, Bats,” Jason grinned. “Bess’s not a snitch.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second. “Time to go,” Batman declared, and melted into the shadows. Jason crouched down and pulled Bess into his arms, bracing her bad shoulder against his chest. She winced, her eyes shutting tightly. “Deep breaths,” he coached her. “Let’s get going.” He took off down the alley, his jarring steps causing pain to shoot through her. He held her waist tightly with one arm, and aimed the other at the top of the building framing the alley. A wire shot out with a whistling sound, and a grapple latched onto the building. Then they were soaring through the air, shooting from one building to the next, crossing over the Cauldron with crazy speed. Bess clung to Robin with her good arm, her eyes wide. She held her breath between jumps, trying not to feel sick.

They landed in another alley, larger than the last, and approached the end of it. Batman waited there for them. He gave a brief nod, and all of a sudden, the alley was full as the Batmobile materialized. The rain rolled off the sleek black metal, and it looked like a good car commercial.

Jason set Bess down. Her legs wobbled under her, and black clouded at the edge of her vision, but she remained standing. The doors of the Batmobile opened with a hiss. “Wow,” Bess breathed, unable to keep a giddy smile off her face. “No way.”

She settled in the Batmobile’s back seat. It was stiff, but not uncomfortable. Jason sat next to her, with Batman in the single seat in the front. The doors closed, and the rain was muffled.

Self-consciousness slammed down on Bess, and she realized how much of a mess she was. She was filthy, wearing the only set of clothes she still had, and though her mouth had stopped bleeding, her clothes were smeared with blood and grime and God knows what else. Her hair was close to being one big mat. She tried to make herself smaller, not wanting to get the seats beneath her dirty.

“It’s good to see you again,” Jason said quietly, though he wasn’t looking at her. The Batmobile took off, jerking slightly before settling into a smooth purr. The streets of Gotham flew by, blurred by the rain on the windows.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Bess asked. “You just disappeared. I thought you were dead, Jason.”

“Codenames only in costume,” Batman said from the front seat, causing both of them to jump a little.

“Right. Sorry.” Bess looked down at her knees.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispered. “I couldn’t tell anyone. The general public doesn’t know I exist yet.”

“I think everyone knows Robin exists,” Bess said.

“That’s not what I meant. The public doesn’t know about me. ” Jason huffed with exasperation. “It’ll make sense in a little while, once you know who he is.” He gestured towards the front seat.

The idea of knowing the identity of Batman was rather intimidating to Bess. She turned her gaze to the window. Buildings turned into trees as they approached the outskirts of the city. They turned onto a dirt road that went along the cliffs. Bess leaned her head against the cold glass and closed her eyes for a moment.

The next thing she knew, Robin was nudging her awake. “Bess,” he said, “wake up. We’re here.” A cool breeze washed over her, and she was aware of the sound of water. She couldn’t get herself to open her eyes, and only managed a mumble in response.

“She’s beyond exhausted,” a new voice said. It reminded her of her grandfather, from when she was a little kid. The accent was different, however. “From the looks of it,” the new voice said, “she’s taken quite a beating. Master Todd, help me get her out.”

Bess winced as her body was moved. Her ribs screamed in protest, and her shoulder throbbed steadily. She felt ground under her feet, and made an effort to stand. Her good arm was slung over a set of shoulders, and she leaned on them for support. She stumbled forward, guided by someone who smelled of tea and starch, and felt herself turn around. The back of her legs pressed against something firm, and she sat. She was guided to lay down, and was quite content to let that be the end of it.

Chapter Text

Bess woke to a wonderful cinnamon smell. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, and she had to rub the sand off of them to get them open. She ached all over, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been before. She looked around, finding herself in what appeared to be a large cave. She could hear rushing water in the distance.

She sat up with some effort. Her shoulder throbbed, and was a gnarly blue color, but it wasn’t as swollen as it had been, and her arm was in a sling. Her mouth was gritty, and she could feel stitches on her lip.

She swung her legs over the side of the cot she was on, and looked around. She was surrounded by technology. The Batmobile sat next to a bike, and to her left, there was a suspended pathway leading to a massive array of dark screens.

“You’re awake.” A voice said behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see an older man with a neatly trimmed mustache. “I know you,” she said, turning to face him. “You’re Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne’s butler. What are you-”

Realization hit her like a truck. She jumped to her feet, ignoring the soreness of her legs. “Holy shit, is Bruce Wayne Batman?” 

Alfred smiled warmly at her, and held out a steaming plate of waffles. Bess practically drooled, and shuffled over to him. “Thank you kindly,” she muttered before shoveling the waffles in her mouth.

“I would advise slowing down. If Master Todd is to be believed, you haven’t eaten in a while.” Alfred said quietly. Bess swallowed, raising an eyebrow at him. “Master Todd? You mean Jason?” Alfred nodded. Bess shrugged, “I guess,” and took slower bites.

She made it about halfway through the plate before she began feeling sick. Her stomach revolted, and panic overwhelmed her. Alfred gestured towards a trash can next to where her cot was. It was full of bloody cotton and other medical waste. Bess emptied the contents of her stomach into it, regretting the waste of the delicious waffles.

“Perhaps,” Alfred began once she was done, “we should start with something a little easier to digest.” He crossed the pathways and disappeared into what looked like a kitchenette, but Bess couldn’t quite tell from that angle.

He brought her one of those protein shakes they gave to elderly patients that had lost too much weight. It was chocolate flavored. Bess drank it, and it stayed down. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Sorry about that,” she could feel her ears burning.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Alfred said kindly. “We should have started with the shake.” He held his hands behind his back, looking the part of a butler, but there was something about his expression that reminded her of Papa.

“What happens now?” Bess asked, sitting back down on the cot. “Where’s Jason?”

“Master Todd is out with Master Bruce. He’s being introduced to the public today at a charity gala.” Alfred explained. “As for what happens, it’s up to you, but might I suggest a hot shower?”

 “That sounds great,” Bess said with a smile. “What about my shoulder?”

“Fortunately, your shoulder was not broken, merely dislocated. You do have a cracked rib, but that will heal on its own. You are lucky that you did not chip any teeth.” Alfred explained. Bess was relieved. “That is good to hear.”

Alfred motioned for her to follow him. They came to an elevator, which rose for at least a minute. At the top, a bookshelf opened into a large library. Bess looked around in wonder. “I guess this is Wayne Manor then?” She asked. Alfred nodded, and gestured for her to follow. He led her out of the library, down a long hallway, and gestured to one of the beautiful wooden doors. “Here is the bathroom. I have prepared a change of clothes for you.” He smiled warmly and said, “take all the time you need.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bess said. “I appreciate it.” Alfred nodded, and left the hallway. Bess entered the bathroom, admiring the marble floors and the black granite counter tops. She had never seen such a beautiful bathroom. Sitting on the counter was a folded red t-shirt and some sweatpants.

The shower itself was huge, with an overhead shower that resembled rain. Bess turned it on, holding her hand under the steady stream until it was warm. With some effort, she peeled off her grimy, torn shirt, and her pants that were full of holes. Neither really fit anymore. It was what she’d been wearing the night her parents disappeared. Her shoes didn’t fit either, but they were better than roaming Gotham barefoot.

She looked in the mirror. Her dark skin was stained a greasy gray by the filth of the city. Her hair was a tangled mat, instead of the tightly coiled curls it had once been. She couldn’t get her fingers into it, much less through it. She turned away from the garish sight, and stepped into the shower. The hot water was like a gift from heaven, and soothed her aching body. She stood there for a long time, watching the water turn black around her feet. It seemed to take forever for it to soak into her hair.

Then she began to scrub. It was hard to reach her back with just one hand, but it didn’t matter much. She was able to get most of the grime off of her skin with gently scented soap. She used an entire bottle of shampoo on her hair, washing again and again until she ran out of patience for it. She put conditioner in it and tried pulling her fingers through it until her good arm was exhausted. She rinsed as much as she could before reluctantly turning off the water.

After drying off, she snooped through the drawers until she found a comb and a toothbrush. She brushed her teeth first, relieved at the feeling of a clean mouth, and then began attempting to brush out her hair. It felt like an impossible task, and the comb got stuck several times.

She was startled when there was a knock at the door. “Miss Brown,” Alfred’s muffled voice came through, “can I get you anything?”

Bess thought for a moment. “How about a pair of scissors?”

“Certainly,” Alfred responded. “Would you care for assistance?”

Bess hung her head, even though he couldn’t see her, and responded meekly, “yes please.”

“I’ll be right back,” Alfred said, and she could hear his footsteps retreating. She put on the clean clothes he had left her. It felt damn good to be clean again. It had been a very long time.

There was another knock on the door, and Bess opened it. Alfred had a pair of hair scissors and a barber’s cape. “I am no professional,” he warned. Bess shrugged. “Better than doing it myself,” she said, then added, “I can’t get a brush through it. It’ll take days to get it untangled. Can you just cut it all off?”

“Are you certain?”

Bess nodded, and sat in the wooden chair in front of the mirror. “Yeah, I don’t really care what it looks like. Just get rid of it.”

“I will do my best,” Alfred said kindly, and wrapped the cape around her. She closed her eyes, unwilling to look in the mirror as her hair was cut. The first snip of the scissors brought tears to her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She ran her tongue over the stitches in her lip absently.

“I understand your parents were reported missing,” Alfred said casually. “Do you know what happened?”

“No,” Bess answered. It was a hard topic, but a welcome distraction as her hair fell off her shoulders and onto the floor. “We were staying in some hotel. They’d gone out to dinner, but Dad left his wallet. I tried calling him,” her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, and continued. “I tried calling, but I realized he left his phone, too. Mama didn’t answer hers. It went straight to voicemail. I kept waiting for them to come back, but they never came back. I called the police, who told me I could go stay with my aunt until they were found.” She trailed off, staring at her lap.

“I assume that you did not?” Alfred prompted gently.

“No. Aunt Macy is a fucking bitch, and we were no-contact with her for a reason. I’d rather starve in the streets than see her again, so I left.”

Alfred was quiet for a moment, then asked, “is that when you met Master Todd?”

“Yeah.” She smiled at the memory. “I’d been on my own for about a month. The money from Dad’s wallet had run out. Got the shit beat out of me, but I was getting better at pickpocketing. I met Jason when we were trying to steal from the same mark.” Her smile grew. “We were inseparable.” She scowled and said, “I can’t believe he didn’t even tell me he was alive.”

“I do apologize,” Alfred said. “Master Bruce insisted on total secrecy.”

Bess shrugged, “yeah, I figured.”

They were silent for the rest of the haircut. When he was finished, he tapped her shoulder. “What do you think?” Bracing herself, she looked up into the mirror. Her head felt too light. It was a strange sensation. The air was cold on her head. In the mirror, she saw a stranger. With a clean face and a head of very short coils, she didn’t recognize herself.

Still, she found that she liked it. It was someone else. Not that grimy street kid, but someone new. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Brown. Would you like to try eating now? Small amounts.” Alfred suggested, guiding her out of the bathroom and down the halls, into a large kitchen. The other half of the plate of waffles waited for her, steaming once again. She took a tentative bite, and waited a minute. When her stomach didn’t immediately revolt, she took a few more bites. She found that she was full quickly, and didn’t eat more than a quarter of the plate. She sipped at the water Alfred offered her.

“What happens now?” Bess asked. She didn’t think they would throw her back on the street, but she knew their secret. Would they hide her from the world like they did Jason? Could she become a vigilante like him?

Alfred smiled in a fatherly manner and sat across from her. “That’s up to you,” he said, offering her a steaming cup of tea that smelled heavenly. She took it and sipped. She winced when the hot liquid rushed over her stitches. She was more careful after that.

“What are the options?” She asked quietly. She was almost afraid of the answer.

“Well,” Alfred began, “we won't imprison you here. If you wish to leave, you may. However, I don’t think that’s what you want.”

“I’d rather not go back to being filthy and starving, thanks.” She said, unable to keep the sneer off her face. Alfred’s smile never faltered. “I didn’t think so,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay. Master Bruce would gladly take you in, and give you a proper education.”

“Could I be a vigilante too?” Bess blurted out the question before she could stop herself. Alfred didn’t seem surprised. “If you wanted. I will warn you, it is not a pleasant life.” He said calmly. “You will see terrible things, you will experience more pain than you thought imaginable, but for some people, ‘the life’ is worth it. It is a choice only you can make.”

She could see the edges of his eyes crease, and the wrinkles deepen as he frowned slightly. She ran her finger over the edge of the teacup. “I want to try,” she finally said. “I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing while Jason’s out being a hero, you know? Besides, I’d like to get Two-Face before he gets me.”

“Yes, I had meant to ask about that.” Alfred sipped from his own teacup. “Why are you so intent on getting to him?”

“I thought he killed Jason,” Bess shrugged. “Jason was talking about going after him for killin’ his dad, then he disappeared. I didn’t know that he was Robin.”

Alfred nodded slowly in understanding. “I will warn you now, Master Bruce has a strict ‘no killing’ policy. Everything must be by the book.”

“I’d heard,” Bess sighed. “I can live with that.”

Alfred smiled again. There was something immensely comforting about it. “I’ll discuss the matter with Master Bruce,” he said. “For now, why don’t you focus on getting rest. You’ll need to be at peak physical health if you’re to join us.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bess said quietly. “For everything.”

Chapter Text

Blow after blow after blow struck the dummy until finally, fist broke through wood, and sand poured onto the ground below. Pulling her fist back, Bess flashed a triumphant smile. It had been five months since Bruce had agreed to train her, and she had not wasted that time.

She wiped sand off of her hand onto her shirt, and looked back at Bruce for approval. He wore that ever-present scowl, and was otherwise unreadable. He was a harsh master, but a fair one. She’d learned a lot under his tutelage.

“Show me,” he said, his arms crossed over his chest. She obediently held out her hands. The left, which had broken through the wood, was smeared with blood. Bruce leaned forward to inspect her knuckles. After a long minute, he said, “your third knuckle is bleeding. Only the first two should land.”

“My fist went through the dummy’s chest!” Bess protested. “Of course my knuckle is going to bleed!”

“You need to control your strikes,” he responded, his gaze sharp. “Your strength will not matter if your technique is poor. If you do that to someone not wearing body armor, you might kill them, and that is not acceptable.”

Bess lowered her head and bit her tongue. It seemed impossible to earn his approval some days, but she knew he meant well. After all, this training was meant to keep her alive. She turned back to the dummy, bringing her fists up.

“Actually,” Bruce stopped her, “that’s enough for today. I don’t want you to be worn out tonight.”

“Tonight?” She faced him again.

She could have sworn he almost smiled, but the only sign was the corner of his mouth twitching. “Tonight,” he began, “you’ll join us for patrol.”

Bess let out a whoop of excitement, pumping her fists in the air. “Fuck yes! Thank you, Bruce! I won’t let you down.” She took a few mock swings at the dummy in celebration, unable to contain her energy.

Bruce watched her with an even gaze and added, “observation only, you won’t be fighting.” Bess didn’t care, she was so excited to finally go out. She had been recognized as Bruce Wayne’s new ward for a while, (and that was a whole legal mess, but fortunately her aunt hadn’t put up much of a fuss). This was different. She was going out as a vigilante for the first time. Her excitement was palpable.

“Do I get a cool name? Do I get a costume?” She asked, unable to stop herself. “Where are we going? Is Jason coming? Do I get a cool weapon?”

This time, Bruce did smile, even if it was only slightly. “Robin will be coming with us, yes. We’re doing reconnaissance on the Riddler’s last known location, so we’ll be headed to the Bowery. Alfred has a suit for you. No weapons yet, you’re strictly observing. You get to pick your own name.” He answered all of her questions without missing a beat.

“Thank you, Bruce!” She couldn’t keep the shrill squeal of excitement out of her voice. “I won’t let you down,” she repeated. Bruce nodded once, approvingly. “I know you won't.” With that, he dismissed her, and she went running out of the Batcave to tell Jason.

Jason already knew. It was apparent from his grin when she found him in the kitchen. She jumped on him, putting him in a headlock. “Guess who’s going on patrol tonight?!” She shouted, tousling his hair. He broke the hold and pushed her against the wall, pinning her arm behind her back. “Is it Alfred?” He replied, barely restraining a laugh.

“No roughhousing in the kitchen,” Alfred said from the doorway.

“Sorry Alfred,” they chimed in unison, and Jason released her. Bess bounced up to Alfred, her hands clasped together. She said, “Bruce told me you made me a suit.”

Alfred nodded, his smile warm as always. “It’s in your room. Let me know what you think.”

Bess took off down the hallway, her feet pounding on the wooden floors. She ran up the stairs, down the wing to the left, and to the last room on the right. She burst through the door, which was covered in poorly drawn signs that included things like “Wayne Girl,” and “No Jasons allowed,” along with some posters of her favorite bands. She came to a halt in front of her bed.

There, on the pink duvet, was her very own combat suit. It consisted of a black bodysuit, and plating that was similar to Bruce’s, except it was dark red with gold accents, including a golden bat symbol on the chest. The mask was the same style as Robin’s. It was the same red with a gold outline.

“It’s beautiful!” She shouted, then kicked the door closed. She spent about half an hour trying to figure out how to get it on. It was tight, but comfortable. The way the plating hugged her arms and legs made her look even bulkier than she already did, and she loved it. “I look fucking badass,” she exclaimed as she flexed in the mirror.

The gloves were her favorite part. With reinforced knuckles outlined in gold, it looked like she was wearing brass knuckles. She blew herself a kiss in the mirror.

The door opened, and in an instant, she was hurling a pillow at the intruder, shouting indignantly, “I said fucking knock, Jason!” Jason used the door to block the pillow, then knocked while making eye contact. Bess snorted, rolling her eyes. “I’ll make an exception,” she said, “because I am in a good mood.”

“Thank you for your ever extensive mercy,” he teased. “You look awesome,” he told her with a grin.

“Don’t I fuckin know it!” She flexed in the mirror again. Jason was taller than her, but she had him beat as far as bulk went, and the suit made him look scrawny next to her.

“Damn, I need to step up my game,” he commented, making the same observation she had. “Nah,” Bess said, “you can do all those cool flips and stuff when you’re fighting. I just hit harder.” She gave him a playful shove.

“Here,” Jason handed her a small earpiece. “Welcome to the team, B.” Her cheeks warmed at the nickname he used for her, but any butterflies were overwhelmed by the excitement coursing through her. She put the piece in her ear.

“Have you picked a name yet?” Jason asked. Bess observed herself in the mirror, looking thoughtful. “I don’t wanna pick something dumb,” she said, shifting back and forth on her feet. The boots were springy.

“No matter what you pick, it’ll sound dumb until you get used to it,” Jason teased, ruffling her hair. She grunted and drove her shoulder into his gut, hooking her hands under his knees and taking him down to the carpet. He landed with an ‘oof’ as the air rushed out of his lungs.

“Who’s dumb now?” She asked, her hand planted on his chest. He grinned up at her. “Still you,” he said, making a vulgar gesture with his hand. She rolled her eyes and returned it before letting him up.

“Well, it has to be bird themed,” she said, once again regarding herself in the mirror. “It’s tradition.”

Jason nodded in agreement, sitting on the edge of her bed and doing his best to look serious. “Of course. Otherwise, I’d call you Badger.”

Bess laughed, shaking her head. “Now that would be terrible. Hmm.” She hummed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “What about Sparrow? Sparrow and Robin?”

“There is nothing sparrow-like about you. Pick a bigger bird, or at least a meaner one,” Jason commented, leaning his elbows on his knees.

Bess nodded in agreement. “You’re right. How about Kestrel? That’s a bird of prey.”

Jason shook his head. “Too small. Hey, what do you think of Goose? I thought of it as a joke at first, but it would actually suit you. Geese are mean. I wouldn’t fuck with a Goose.”

Bess tilted her head thoughtfully. “That is just ridiculous enough to work.” She gazed at the mirror, nodding slowly. “Yeah, and imagine all the goose jokes I can make when I’m beating up bad guys.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, Jason’s voice crackled over the piece in her ear. “Gentlemen, Goose is in the building.”

“You’re going with Goose?” Bruce’s voice came over the radio.

“Yeah,” Bess said. “I think I am.”

“Remember Goose,” Batman’s voice crackled in Bess’s ear. “Do not engage. You are here to observe only.”

“I know, I know. Good luck, Batman.” Bess responded, crouching on the roof next to Robin.

“I don’t need luck,” Batman replied, and the line went quiet.

“What a drama queen,” Jason commented, kneeling next to her. He was tying off a line to the roof, ready to drop through the window into the warehouse below. Bess stifled a laugh. So far, she was having a blast. They’d received intel that Riddler was tied to this warehouse and had been seen there. He’d been observed entering, but not leaving. Though they couldn’t see anything from the roof skylights, they were going to investigate. It was Bess’s job to watch the streets for any incoming trouble.

Robin dropped down into the warehouse, his line hissing as he disappeared into the darkness. Bess watched him go, then turned her attention to the streets below. “Batman,” Robin’s voice came over the radio. “I found something, South end of the building. There’s a locked door, and I can see hostages inside. From the heat signatures, there are two guards. I’m going to pick the lock.”

“On my way,” Batman responded, and the line went quiet once again.

Bess let out a soft sigh, resting her arms on her knees. She tapped her toes quietly, wishing she was down there with them. A few minutes passed in silence.

“Damn, another one? The old man just can’t help himself.” A voice behind her caused her to spring up, her fists up next to her head. A masked man stood near the skylight with his arms crossed over his chest, and an aloof grin on his face. She recognized him, though she hadn’t seen him in person before now. She knew him from news feeds, and the one portrait in the manor.

“Nightwing?” She lowered her fists. “What are you doing here?” She raised her finger to her ear to let Batman know, but Nightwing put a hand up. “Don’t tell Bats I’m here yet,” he said, and she paused, hand hovering near her ear. “Why not?” She asked.

“Because he’s in deep shit, and I want to see the look on his face when I rescue him,” Nightwing said. He looked like the cat that got into the cream.

“What do you mean?” Bess asked, feeling tension crawl up her spine. Something was off. Nightwing gestured towards the open skylight. “They’re walking into an ambush. Riddler got a tip that Batman was onto him about a month ago, and set this up. The hostages,” he made air quotes with his hands, “are paid goons.”

“I have to warn him!” Bess went to turn on her radio. Nightwing darted forward with surprising speed and caught her wrists. “Don’t do that, kid,” he said, his piercing blue eyes boring into hers. “My plan won’t work if you do.”

She jerked her hands away from him, scowling. “I don’t care about your plan, if they’re walking into an ambush, then I need to tell them!” She went to turn on the radio again, and again he stopped her, this time pulling her arm around behind her back. His grip was strong, but Jason used this move all the time. She broke it easily and planted her foot on his chest, kicking him backwards and away from her.

He caught her leg and yanked, making her stumble. “What did you say your name was?” He asked casually, as if they weren’t fighting. She turned on him, leaning forward and using the momentum to tackle him, driving her shoulder into his chest. She heard the breath forced out of him, and felt a rush of satisfaction. “Goose,” she replied coolly.

“Goose?” He laughed, then apologized. “Sorry, that’s great. You can play duck duck goose with bad guys!” He wrapped her in a bear hug and spun, pinning her arms and swinging her off her feet.

She let her legs fly out, then tucked them under her as soon as he stopped spinning. She planted them firmly on the ground, and shoved backwards. “We’re wasting time!” She growled.

“Let me guess,” he let her shove him backwards, never releasing his grip, then somersaulted. The end result was her on her face with his knee in her back. His hands had a good grip on her wrists and he was pulling her arms back. “First night out?” He asked, unable to keep the teasing note out of his voice.

The more she struggled, the sharper his knee felt, and it was right on her spine. He was heavy, and she felt like it was hard to breathe. “Fuck you,” she spat.

“You did well, for how green you are,” he praised. “You would have beaten a street thug. Unfortunately for you, I’m a professional. Now, listen to my plan. I have good intel that Riddler is here in person.” He released some of the pressure on her back.

“So do we,” Bess grumbled, trying not to suck in air audibly.

Nightwing kept talking. “With the manpower he has, he’ll overwhelm Batman. When he does, he’ll let his guard down, then you and I swoop in and take him down. You get to impress Bats, I get to rub it in his face, everyone wins.”

“What if we don’t win?” She asked.

“Then I swallow my pride and call Batgirl.” He replied. “But if we warn Batman about the ambush, Riddler will use his men as a diversion and flee before we can stop him, and we have to do this whole mess again. Now, are you going to behave?”

“Not like you’re giving me much choice.” She grunted, then nodded. “I’m in.” She let out a sigh of relief when he released her. “Why are you here anyway?” She asked, brushing off her suit. “Don’t you work in Bludhaven?”

“I got a tip that this was happening. I couldn’t pass up the chance.” He shrugged. “So what’s your story, kid? Where are you from? No offense, but you don’t have the Gotham accent.”

“Virginia,” Bess crossed her arms. “I’ve lived in Gotham for a couple years. You?”

“I’m not really from anywhere,” Nightwing said, sitting down on the roof. He patted the spot next to him. She knelt beside him. “I was a traveling acrobat,” he went on. “Bat took me in after my parents died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said quietly.

Nightwing shrugged. “Hey, I’m the coolest guy in a hundred miles. It’s not all bad.”

Bess laughed quietly. “You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Oh, definitely.” Nightwing grinned, unashamed.

Bess liked him.

Their conversation was broken up by the radio in her ear crackling to life. “Goose, it was an ambush. Get back to the Cave. Do not engage,” Batman issued quick orders, then the radio fell silent again. Bess could hear gunfire echoing around the warehouse.

“Time to go,” Nightwing got to his feet and offered a hand to her. “Bats needs to invest in some touchless radios. You coming, Goose?”

It was easy to disregard Batman’s orders when Nightwing was encouraging her. He was a bad influence. She wanted in on the action anyway. She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “How long have you been training?” He asked, approaching the skylight. She replied, “five months.”

“That’s it? He let you come out after five months? You must be something impressive.” He complimented her before sliding down the line, into the darkness. Bess felt her ears heat up, but shook her head to clear it. She took hold of the rope line and followed Nightwing into the darkness.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. The part of the warehouse they were in was empty. Nightwing headed for the door on the wall, which led to the steps to the basement. He motioned her closer and whispered, “you go down that way, I’ll take the vents. Attack on my signal.”

“What’s the signal?”

“Duck duck.” He winked at her, then crawled into one of the air ducts. She watched him go, then made her way down the stairs. Her footfalls were hushed by the boots she wore, but she was aware of every sound she made. “Duck duck?” She grumbled to herself. “He thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?”

She came to the door that Robin had picked the lock on. She peered around the doorway. Nightwing had been right. Riddler’s goons had surrounded Batman and Robin, who were tied up with machine guns aimed at them. Riddler himself was standing in front of them, in that silly green suit, swinging his cane around while he monologued.

Imagine his fury when Nightwing interrupted him. Dropping from the ceiling, Nightwing used his zipline to hook into the body armor of one of the guards. The resulting pull was an insane amount of force put into the kick Nightwing delivered. He soared through the air, weightless, and had two more down before more than a few seconds had passed.

Bess felt a strong desire to join in on the fight, but she restrained herself. She was already disobeying orders, she wasn’t going to fuck up the plan they still had. She bit her lip, trying to control her breathing. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she bounced on her feet.

Nightwing managed to get a good portion of the guards down before he was hit hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Riddler stood in front of him, fuming, while two of the remaining guards held his arms. Before Riddler could speak, however, Nightwing said, “Riddler, I have a riddle for you.”

Bess could see Riddler’s hesitation, but curiosity got the better of him. “Alright, Nightwing, I’ll bite. There isn’t a riddle I can’t solve.”

Nightwing’s playful smile made Bess’s heart jump. He asked, “what kind of bird is a Mallard?”

Though his back was to her, Bess could see the Riddler’s shoulders sag. The villain pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “That’s not a riddle, you cretinous fool. That’s just a question!”

Nightwing repeated himself slowly, as if talking to a child. “What kind of bird is a Mallard?” He patronized the Riddler, and it worked.

Riddler threw his hands up in exasperation. “A duck!”

Nightwing nodded slowly, as if praising a child, and said calmly, “duck.”

That was the signal. Bess launched forward, shouting “Goose!” and drove her knee into Riddler’s back. He dropped with a shriek, not expecting the blow. Bess kicked him in the head, just like Batman had shown her. He’d have a concussion, but he’d live. She went for the guard on the left before they could react. Nightwing took the chance to knock out the other one, and shouted, “keep them busy!”

Bess whirled around to find five guards remaining. With all of the ones on the floor, there were roughly twenty in total. She could handle five, and these ones didn’t even have guns, just batons and knives.

“How’d they get you, Bats?” She heard Nightwing ask as she engaged the enemy.

“Gas.” Batman answered curtly. “Get Robin untied.” With that, he joined the fight. Bess’s heart pounded in her ears and excitement rushed through her. She was fighting with Batman! He’d been training her on the teamwork side of combat as well, and they fought like a well-oiled machine. The battle was over in less than a minute.

“Goose,” he said as soon as the last man was down. He turned on her, foreboding in his full suit and cape. “I gave you orders not to engage.” He towered over her, the disapproval clear from his scowl.

Bess resisted the urge to shrink away. She wished she had some of Jason’s courage (or spite, depending on who you asked). “And if I hadn’t?” She retorted. “You would have lost here.”

“I had a plan,” he stated. The fury on the edge of his voice was subtle, but she didn’t miss it. He was pissed. “You could have been killed.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Nightwing cut in, stepping between her and Batman. His broad back blocked her view of him. “You,” Batman said calmly, “should be in Bludhaven. You put a trainee in direct danger.”

“ I put her in danger? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Nightwing scoffed and crossed his arms. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? You turn children into soldiers and blame someone else when they get hurt. Don’t be upset with her, I’m the bad influence here. Take it up with me.” His voice was calm, but Bess could see the tension in his shoulders. No one fully escaped the intimidating aura of The Batman.

“Hey,” Jason tried interrupting, “no one got hurt here.” Batman and Nightwing ignored him. He gave Bess a frustrated look. He and Nightwing had never gotten along much, and he hated being ignored by Bruce. She shot him a sympathetic smile, but it did little to temper his anger.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Bess took a deep breath, and cleared her throat. She stepped out from behind Nightwing and faced Bruce. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were in real danger, and Nightwing had a plan to rescue you. I should have followed your orders. That’s on me.” She left out the part about Nightwing’s coercion. It wouldn’t help anyone.

Bruce met her gaze evenly, his sharp jaw grinding slightly. Bess suppressed a shudder. When he wanted to be, he was a scary individual. The criminal underworld of Gotham knew that fact well, as did Bess. He instilled that primal feeling of being hunted, even if you were on his side. It made her think twice about disobeying him again.

After a long silence that felt to Bess like an eternity, Batman said, “don’t let it happen again.” He turned around, his cape billowing, and said, “we’re done here. Robin, Goose, let’s go. Nightwing,” he looked over his shoulder. “Are you coming back to the Cave?”

Nightwing let out a long breath, releasing tension. He bounced on the balls of his feet. “I’d better get back to Bludhaven. Tell Penny-one I said hello.” He gave them a two-fingered salute and ziplined back into the vents. He was gone.

Bess swallowed the lump in her throat. She followed Batman meekly out of the building, retreating through the skylight they had entered through. On the roof, Batman turned to her and Robin. “When we get back, I want twenty laps around the track from both of you before you leave for school.”

Bess could hear Jason’s sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t argue. They followed Batman home in silence. By the time Bess got changed and met Jason at the track in the manor’s gym, it was sunrise.

Jason looked furious. Bess opened her mouth to ask, but thought better of it. Of course he was mad. He was being punished with her when he hadn’t disobeyed orders. He gave her a curt nod, and they began running together.

After seventeen laps, he finally spoke. “I can’t believe Dick stood up for you.” He kept his gaze evenly ahead. Bess could see the tension in his jaw. She replied, “I guess he felt like it was his fault I was in trouble.”

“Yeah, it was his fault, but that’s not what I mean.” He turned his face away from her. “He’s gotten me in trouble plenty of times, but he’s never stepped in like that. What the fuck?” He huffed in exasperation. “Why does he hate me so much? It’s not like I’ve replaced him. I’m nowhere near his level.” He glanced at Bess and added, “he was supposed to help train me, but he’s never around. I’ve seen him maybe three times since,” he paused for a breath, “since I started. He doesn’t like me, for whatever reason. And Bruce never fucking shuts up about him. ‘Jason, why can’t you be more like Dick? Dick would have had that lock picked faster. Dick would have taken that goon down without alerting the rest.’ Dick this, Dick that! Now the fucking golden boy deigns to interfere, and I’m being punished for it.”

Bess didn’t know what to say. She felt guilty. Jason must have read her expression, because he stopped running. She stopped a few feet ahead and turned back to face him. He avoided her gaze. Finally, he said, “I’m not upset with you. I’m glad you dropped in when you did. Bruce won’t admit it, but Riddler had us. I just wish Dick hadn’t been there.”

They began running again, finished the last lap, and slowed to a walk. Bess took deep, even breaths, wincing at the stitch in her side. She was going to struggle to stay awake at school, she knew that much. She put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s better than you. Just older.” She tried to comfort him. “He’s been doing this for eleven years. I bet when you’re his age, you’ll be even better.”

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. Jason jerked away from her with a sharp, “whatever,” and left. Bess walked another lap in silence. Guilt and confusion roiled through her gut. She stopped to look out the windows, over the manor gardens. The marigolds were just beginning to bloom.

Chapter Text

Jason’s excitement was palpable. For one thing, Alfred had finally agreed to let him use the kitchen, and that on its own was worth celebrating.

He was baking a cake, and the reason for it was what had him so excited. He’d spent the morning pretending to be sick so Bess wouldn’t be suspicious of him skipping school. Alfred had bought party supplies, and Jason was baking strawberry cake. It was Bess’s favorite. While the cake was in the oven, he made chocolate icing.

He had a big smile on his face when he took the cake out of the oven. It looked delicious. The time spent waiting for it to cool was tortuous, so he helped Barbara set up a party in the dining room. Pink and red streamers were tossed over the crystal chandelier, and gold balloons flooded the room.

Finally, the cake was cool enough to slather in chocolate frosting. He piped on words in red gel icing that sparkled. Once he was done, Alfred inspected his work, and gave an approving nod. “I believe she will love it, Master Todd.” The writing was messy, but it was legible. Jason wasn’t too pleased, but it would do. It was the thought that counted.

He put the cake on the dining table, feeling excitement course through him. Bruce had gone to pick up Bess from school himself, instead of Alfred. She’d likely suspect that something was up, but he doubted she would ever guess this, and Bruce could keep a secret.

After all, she would be the last to hear the news.

The only dark spot on an otherwise great day was standing in the corner, laughing on the phone. Jason shot Dick a withering look, but the older boy either didn’t notice, or maybe he did and chose to ignore it. Jason wanted to punch him in his stupid perfect teeth, but Alfred had expressly forbidden it. Jason didn’t know why he was at the party anyway. Dick had put little to no effort in getting to know either him or Bess, but Barbara insisted that he was family, and he’d come around. Jason still didn’t get it, but he wasn’t going to argue with Barbara.

Besides, the addition of a new member of the family wasn’t something that happened every day.

Alfred let out a whistle, and turned off the lights. She’s here! Jason’s momentary bad mood evaporated, leaving a giddy state of glee in its place. Jason hid behind some streamers, while Dick and Barbara hid under the table.

“This way,” Bruce’s deep voice carried a note of joy that was often absent. It was what Barbara called a “Brucie” day, where Bruce wasn’t the dark and moody Batman, but instead the easygoing and aloof Bruce that Gotham loved. It was rare to see when they were out of the public eye, but it was always a good experience.

Jason held his breath. Bruce guided Bess into the room, his hand over her eyes. She had a grin on her face. “Bruce, what is going on?” She asked, her hands out in front of her to keep from bumping into anything.

They stopped in front of the table. Alfred flipped on the lights, Bruce moved his hands, and the other three jumped out and yelled, “surprise!” Bess looked around with a mixture of awe and confusion, then looked down at the cake in front of her. Her eyes read over the words once, then again, then a huge grin split her face.

On the cake in messy red lettering was “You’re Adopted!”

Bess let out a shriek and whirled around, wrapping her arms around Bruce in a crushing hug. Bruce laughed, which wasn’t something he did often, and hugged her tightly. Bess was caught somewhere between laughing and sobbing. It made Jason’s chest swell, seeing her so happy.

They’d come a long way since that warehouse in the Cauldron. Despite the pain and trials, they were still together, and happier than ever. Though Bruce had been awarded guardianship months ago, her formal adoption had just been finalized the day before, and Jason had been eager to host a party (even though Barbara did most of the planning).

They ate cake and spent the afternoon together. Jason even found that Dick was tolerable when he was in a good mood, and he made Bess laugh. When dinner came around, it was beef Wellington, Bess’s favorite. Alfred had pulled out all the stops, and even let them have some wine with it.

Jason wasn’t all that impressed with the wine, but because he was a teenager and alcohol was still something new and novel, he drank it and asked for another glass. Then another. It gave him this weird, fuzzy feeling, like when he got hit in the head too hard, only this felt good. Alfred did not give him a fourth glass. 

When Jason stood from the table, he found it was hard to keep his legs under him. He braced his hands on the table, blinking a few times.

Dick’s laugh wasn’t as grating as it normally was, and Barbara’s voice was sweet when she asked him if he’d like help getting to bed. Jason shook his head, abashed that she would suggest such a thing.

Then he heard the most beautiful sound in the world. Bess was giggling into her napkin. When Jason looked up, it took him a moment to focus on her face. Her hair was shiny in the candlelight. Her hair had been growing out since she came to live with them, and hung in tight coils over her ears and framed her face. Has she always looked that cute? Her cheeks were flushed red, and her gaze was unfocused.

“Jason,” Bruce’s deep voice sounded like the rumble of distant thunder. Jason snapped his head towards the head of the table where Bruce sat, looking mildly amused. “Thank you for making the cake,” Bruce said.

That’s right, the cake! His attention turned back to Bess, and with all the eagerness of a puppy, he asked, “B, did you like it?”

“I loved it!” Her voice was musical. She threw her hands up in the air in an expression of joy and exclaimed, “it’s the best I’ve ever had!”

“Better than Alfred’s?” Dick asked in a teasing tone. Alfred raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Bess looked sheepish. “That’s not fair, Dick. Alfred is on a whole other level. Like,” she made a motion with her hands next to her head and mimicked an explosion noise, “insane level. He should be a professional. His treats belong on cooking shows. But this cake was the best homemade cake ever.” Her accent was stronger than it normally was, the thick drawl reminding him somehow of molasses.

Bruce laughed again, and the sound warmed Jason’s heart. Bruce rarely laughed. It was nice.

Jason pushed his chair back, and nearly fell with it. He caught himself, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. Barbara offered help again, but he shook his head and put up his hands. “I’m grown, I can walk on my own, Babs.”

Barbara gave him that look. A slight smile, and an eyebrow raised over the brim of her glasses, and her hands on her hips. It wasn’t patronizing, but it was close. It reminded him of his kindergarten teacher. Jason stuck his tongue out at her. Barbara laughed, throwing her head back, and returned the gesture.

Jason loved Barbara. She’d always treated him fairly, and he saw her as a big sister. He felt the strong urge to tell her, but he could feel Dick’s presence, and wouldn’t give the older boy the satisfaction.

Of course, Dick just had to ruin the moment anyway. “I’ll help him, Babs. Bessie’s in a similar state.” He left the question unspoken. Barbara nodded, her ponytail bouncing.

“I don’t need help!” Bess protested. She shot up out of her chair to prove her point, and stumbled to the side. Bruce caught her arm, preventing her from falling. “Perhaps,” he began, “a limit of two glasses for those of us that aren’t used to drinking, next time.”

“Agreed, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, barely containing laughter. Jason snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m no lightweight!” He insisted.

“It’s your first time drinking,” Barbara told him in a soothing voice. “No one expects you to tank it. You’re too young to be drinking regularly anyway. Special occasions only,” she shook a finger at him.

Dick seemed to appear at his side. Jason jumped away from him, startled. Dick laughed, flashing those fucking perfect teeth, and took hold of Jason’s arm, pulling it over his shoulder. Despite his opposition to the situation, Jason leaned on Dick. It was easier to stand that way.

He kept looking over his shoulder, trying to keep Bess in sight, as Dick led him up the stairs. He found that the stairs were much more of a struggle than he had anticipated, and resisted the urge to crawl.

Finally, they made it to his room, and Barbara and Bess vanished into Bess’s room. Dick dumped him unceremoniously onto his bed. “You good, buddy?” Dick asked, sitting him up and holding a cup in front of him. Jason took it and sniffed it.

“It’s water,” Dick told him. “Drink it.” Jason wrinkled his nose, but obeyed. The water was the best thing he’d ever had. The glass was empty in moments.

Dick patted his back in a friendly manner, and Jason found that he wasn’t so annoyed. “You know,” Jason began, “you’re an asshole, but you’re alright.”

He regretted the words as soon as he said them. Dick looked like he had won the lottery, with a shit-eating grin that made Jason roll his eyes. “Glad you think so, Jason.” Dick said, and Jason was glad Dick wasn’t going to tease him. Dick sat next to him on his bed. “You’re alright too.” Dick sighed deeply, and Jason could feel the mood shift.

“Look,” Dick began, “I know I’m not the brother you wanted. I know I’m an ass, but I need to tell you that it’s not your fault. Bruce and I…” He trailed off, then ran a hand through his hair. Jason was surprised he had said that much.

It almost felt like bonding.

With that thought, Jason gave him a shove. “Don’t get soft on me, Grayson.” He said, but he wasn’t able to hide his own smile.

Dick laughed at him and ruffled his hair. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He stood, and said, “sleep it off, man. If it makes you feel better, I was a lot worse the first time I got drunk.”

“It does, actually,” Jason shot back with a grin.

Dick rolled his eyes. “See you around, Jason.” With that, he left Jason alone, and left the door cracked.

Jason flopped back onto his bed, feeling the pillows cradle his head. The silence engulfed him, broken up by the occasional sound from downstairs. He felt cold, and lonely, and all he could think about was Bess. They’d slept on the same rotting mattress when they’d lived in the warehouse, and sleeping alone hadn’t been the same since then.

He heaved himself up out of bed and crept across the floor, avoiding all the squeaky boards. If anyone caught him sneaking into Bess’s room, he didn’t think he could handle the embarrassment.

He pushed her door open, stepped inside, and closed it behind him.

“Jason?” A sleepy voice reached his ears. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” he replied, feeling bashful all of a sudden. “Besss, you remember when we lived in the Cauldron, and we’d-”

She finished the thought for him, “sleep together every night? Those days were so cold.” He heard her shifting around, and as his eyes adjusted, he could see her outline.

“I…” He swallowed thickly. He didn’t think this would be so hard. He hadn’t thought about it at all, really. What had he planned? To just walk in and snuggle up to her? Was she even as lonely as he was? Maybe she liked sleeping alone. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and took a step back.

“Come here,” she beckoned, her voice soft. “It’s cold tonight,” she said. He could see the outline of her outstretched arms. Jason could feel his face heating up as he crawled under the blankets with her.

She wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him to her chest. He stiffened at first, but she was so warm and soft, it was impossible not to relax. He hugged her waist, inhaling deeply. She smelled so good. It wasn’t something he could describe, like some blend of spices Alfred used to cook. Her fingers ran through his hair, sending tingles down his spine. He felt something press against the top of his head.

Did she just kiss him?

“Did you just kiss me?” He asked, muffled by her shirt. “Yeah,” she replied. He could feel her tense. “Is that okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I like it.” He traced the path of her spine, just under the hem of her shirt. Her skin was so warm and soft, and gave a little before he could feel the hard muscle underneath. She was a work of art. He wanted to admire her more, but he just couldn’t seem to stay awake. He’d never been so comfortable, or felt so safe.

He loved her. The realization was like a wave washing over him. He knew that he loved her, of course. They’d been through a lot together. They were family. But this was different. He loved her. Everything about her. Her laugh, her smile, the sound of her exhale when she landed a punch, how her voice cracked when she was upset, the way she smelled; everything. He hoped that maybe she could love him too.

Chapter Text

Focusing on math homework was impossible. Calculus just didn’t matter to a teenage girl’s mind when there was a boy in the equation. Jason had been sneaking into Bess’s room every night. Most nights they talked for hours until they fell asleep, but some nights, he just came in, slumped down, and held her like he was afraid to let go. Those nights were usually after particularly bad missions. Sometimes he didn’t even bother taking off the costume.

When Bess tried to put her pencil to paper, she could only think about the way his arms felt around her waist. Her heart rate sped up. She tried to work on an english essay instead, but she could only focus on thoughts about what kissing him might be like. Did he have the same kinds of thoughts?

Being with him was effortless. It was different from the puppy crush she had on Dick. This felt more real, more permanent. It was easy to talk to Jason until the sun came up. They even spent the afternoons after patrol nights together, napping in the warm spring sun. Sleeping next to him didn’t feel wrong or forbidden; it felt natural, like they had never stopped. So why did thinking about him in this capacity feel so… weird?

She put her face in her hands, letting out a frustrated groan. It was her senior year, and it was almost over. She’d come this far, with all the remedial classes she’d taken, and all the tutoring hours spent with August, her student tutor. August was a close friend, and she wanted to make him proud. She just had to buckle down and get through it. Then she could think about Jason all she liked.

After a few more minutes of failing to focus, she decided that she wasn’t making any progress with calculus, so she headed down for a snack. Alfred was in the kitchen, prepping dinner for that night. It was a patrol night, so dinner was hearty, but simple. Roasted potatoes and chicken. It smelled heavenly.

Dick was there, having a steaming cup of tea. He gave Bess a friendly smile, which she returned. He’d been around more often, once a month or so, since her adoption party. She liked seeing him.

“What can I do for you, Miss Brown?” Alfred asked, brushing his hands on his apron. “I need a snack, Alfred,” she told him. “Calculus just isn’t happening today. Do we have any strawberries?”

Alfred nodded, opening the fridge. “Chocolate or honey?” He asked. “Chocolate, please.”

“You never cut up strawberries for me, Alfred,” Dick complained. Alfred chuckled quietly. “Quite right, Master Grayson. You are not a young lady. It’s imperative that a lady have standards of treatment set for them.”

Bess stuck her tongue out at Dick when Alfred wasn’t looking. Dick put on an expression of mock hurt.

“You’re telling me I’m not good enough to spoil?” Dick whined, putting the back of his hand to his head dramatically. “I feel so unloved!”

Alfred tossed him a knife. Dick caught it with a laugh. Alfred told him, “you should slice the strawberries for her. It’s high time you learn some manners, Master Grayson.” Alfred’s tone was mildly teasing.

Dick set his teacup on the counter and approached the cutting board. “Bold of you to let me in your kitchen, Alfred. You remember what happened last time?”

“I sincerely doubt that cutting strawberries will lead to the same level of disaster,” Alfred replied coolly.

Dick winked at him and said, “you underestimate my ability to cause mayhem.” He tossed a sliced strawberry half to Bess. “Where’s the chocolate?” She teased. Dick snorted, rolled his eyes, and replied, “coming right up, your highness.”

He handed her the chocolate sauce from the fridge. She squeezed a little onto her strawberry. It was sweet, and so delicious. It reminded her of picking strawberries with Mama as a child, and she remembered the way sunwarmed juice dribbled down her chin. She let out an audible sound of delight.

Dick soon handed her a plate of sliced strawberries with a mock bow. “Your snack, princess.”

“Thank you, my good man. Keep it up and you may yet achieve knighthood,” she teased him, accepting the plate. He shook his head with a smile and went back to his tea. Alfred looked mildly pleased as he chopped vegetables. Bess hopped up to sit on the counter and popped strawberries into her mouth.

“You said you’re having a hard time with calculus?” Dick asked once she’d finished her snack. She nodded, pursing her lips.

“Do you want some help?” He offered.

She shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t know how to do it. I just can’t focus today.” She stepped out of Alfred’s way as he moved around the kitchen.

“It’s not the most fascinating subject,” Dick agreed.

Alfred huffed a bit when he bumped into Dick, who hadn’t moved out of the way quickly enough. “Perhaps a walk in the garden will clear your head?” He suggested. “The irises are in bloom.”

“I think Alfred wants us to fuck off,” Bess whispered loudly. Alfred looked aghast. He put his hand on his chest and said, “such language! Out of my kitchen, you ruffians!” He shook a tea towel at them.

Bess and Dick ran out laughing. They went out into the gardens, which were in full bloom. Bess ran all the way to the irises in the back. They were her favorite, and they were beautiful this year. Bold purple and blue hues sprung up from the elegant green stalks, and there were a few white ones in the mix.

“Beautiful!” Dick said when he came to a halt beside her, nearly bumping into her. “Look at those flowers. He’s done it again!”

Bess knelt down, cradling one of the blooms in her hands. She leaned in, and inhaled deeply. The soft petals tickled her nose. “Magnificent,” she murmured. Her grandmother had grown irises in her garden, and Bess had always loved them. She sat down on the path, enjoying the cool breeze and the warmth of the spring sun.

“So what’s on your mind?” Dick asked, lowering himself to sit next to her. Their knees were touching. Bess shot him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow in question. “What do you mean?”

Dick gave her a knowing look. “You aren’t struggling with calculus because you needed a snack.”

Damn, nothing got by him, did it? Bruce taught him well. She looked away, hugging her knees and resting her chin on them. She watched the irises sway in the gentle breeze. “I don’t know,” she began, even though she knew exactly what was causing her distraction. “I just can’t focus.”

“Is it Jason?” He asked. She jumped as if he had startled her, and her face turned red. Dick snorted and gave her a playful nudge. “Please, kid,” he said, “you might have Alfred fooled, though I doubt it, but nothing gets past Bruce. He’s the world’s greatest detective, and Jason isn’t nearly as sneaky as he thinks he is. Just make sure you use protection.”

“It’s not like that!” Bess shrieked indignantly, shoving him. She buried her face in her hands. Dick put a comforting hand on her shoulder and said, “sorry, Bess, I’m not trying to embarrass you. Just trying to help. So now I’m assuming you haven’t gotten that far?”

He was easy to talk to, when he wasn’t being an ass. Bess huffed and stared at the irises. After a minute of silence, she said, “no, we haven’t. I… haven’t even told him how I feel. Sleeping in the same bed is normal. We had to, in that warehouse, just to keep warm. It’s honestly harder to sleep alone. There’s nothing romantic about sharing a bed.”

“But?” He prodded.

“But…” She ran her fingers through her hair nervously. She twirled a curl around her finger. “But I want more,” she finally admitted. “I just don’t want to ruin what we have. I mean, he’s legally my brother, as far as Bruce is concerned. Doesn’t that make it weird?”

Dick shook his head. “Dating another member of the batfamily isn’t weird. Barbara and I are dating.”

“That doesn’t count; she’s got her own family,” Bess said.

Dick shrugged and said, “it doesn’t mean she’s not part of ours.”

“Really?” She looked at him.

“Really,” he told her with a warm smile. “It’s not wrong to take love where you find it. If anything, no one outside our family really understands what we go through. I’d say it’s pretty normal.” Then he shook a finger at her, his warm smile replaced with a mischievous one, and said, “as long as you’re safe about it.”

Bess rolled her eyes. “I don’t need ‘the talk’ from you, Grayson. Alfred has already shown me the powerpoint.”

“Oh god,” Dick laughed, leaning his head back. “Not the powerpoint! You poor thing.”

Just like that, all the tension in Bess’s gut dissolved. She did feel better. She scoffed and threw her hands up. “With the pictures and everything! He even used a banana to show me how a condom worked.”

“He never changes,” Dick commented with a grin. “He put me through the same thing when I was younger than you.”

“You sound like an old man,” Bess said playfully. “When I was your age,” she mocked him with her best ‘old man’ voice.

“Hey now, I’m only a few years older than you.” He shook his finger at her. “You’ll be old soon, too.” Bess laughed at his antics. She rested her chin on her knees, gazing at the irises once more. “I wish you were around more often,” she said. “I could never talk to Bruce about this stuff, and definitely not Alfred.”

“You’d be surprised how much good advice Alfred has up his sleeve,” Dick said. He let out a sigh, and Bess could sense his mood change.

Dick pushed a piece of gravel around on the path. He said, “I’m sorry, Bess. I wish I could be more for you and Jason, but I just- I can’t. Bruce and I… have our differences.” His blue eyes seemed dull for a moment.

Bess put a hand on his shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. “I get it,” she said quietly. “I’m not blaming you.”

Dick shrugged. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and shook his head slightly. “Forget it,” he said. He turned to her with a smile, and very obviously changed the subject. “So what are you going to do about Jason?”

Bess pursed her lips. “What should I do? Writing a song for your crush is trendy in school right now, but that seems so corny and I have no talent for poetry.”

“You could get him flowers,” Dick suggested. “Boys never get flowers. He’d probably like them. Alfred might even let you take a few of his prized marigolds.”

Bess thought about that for a moment. “Yeah, that’s actually a good idea. Thanks, Dick!”

“I’m full of good ideas,” Dick claimed. “Come on, I’ll help you pick a few.” He shot her a playful wink and added, “just don’t tell Alfred.”

Chapter Text

Breathe through your nose. Bruce’s voice echoed in Jason’s head. He took deep, slow breaths, trying to catch his breath without making noise. He was starting to get big enough that crawling through air ducts took a little more energy. He could see through some grating, down into the space below.

He hated this place. It was a derelict factory in the bowery, and the first place he had met the Joker. Something about that man made him bristle, more so than the other super villains he dealt with. At least all the others wanted something, in their own sick ways. He could almost believe Bruce when he said they were redeemable.

The Joker didn’t want anything beyond chaos. He just wanted to see people suffer in the most horrific ways. Even the other villains gave him a wide berth. Jason could understand why Bruce wouldn’t kill any of the others, but surely this guy warranted the extreme action. He continued to escape from Arkham Asylum, again and again, and destroyed the lives of hundreds, if not thousands, any time he made a big move. He’d killed more people than Batman had ever saved.

Still, Bruce refused. “If we kill him, he wins,” the Batman had said. Jason didn’t see how that mattered, considering the lives that would be saved by the death of one man. Ugh, Bruce and his fucking morality, Jason thought.

Oh well. That was an argument for another time. Right now, he was tracking Harley Quinn, who could be heard down below. She wasn’t there herself, but her goons were, and Robin had tracked her this far. She was planning something big. Whether or not Joker was involved was anyone’s guess, but Harley had been hitting chemical plants all over the city for the past couple of weeks. Batman had handed the case over to Goose and Robin: a chance to prove themselves.

Some of the crates from those robberies were here. Judging by the scans, at least half of the stolen property was being stored here. Harley’s shrill voice came through Robin’s radio; he’d hacked the frequency last week. “If you boneheads don’t get a move on, I’m feeding you all grenades and turning your guts into spaghetti for orphans! We’re on a schedule, people, get those crates loaded!”

There were trucks outside the bay waiting to be loaded. Robin considered disrupting the loading process, but if he did that, he wouldn’t find Harley. Instead, he silently slid the grating out of the vent, and dropped onto a support beam below. It was dark enough to hide him, even in the bright colors of the Robin suit.

“Goose,” he said quietly. He was sure he wouldn’t be heard over the industrial fans keeping the grunts cool. “I read you, Robin,” Goose’s voice crackled over the radio. “I’ve found where some of the stolen goods went,” he explained. “They’re loading them to move to a new location. I’m going to get on one of those trucks. I’m hoping Harley Quinn will be at the end of the line.”

“Copy that, Robin,” Goose said, “I’ll track your location and follow on the rooftops. Be safe. Batgirl, you got all that?”

“Loud and clear,” Barbara answered.

This mission was a test of both Goose and Robin. Their first real case. Robin could feel the end drawing close. Batgirl was supervising, but she wasn’t supposed to interfere without an emergency.

It was his chance to prove to Bruce that he wasn’t a kid anymore, and he wasn’t about to lose that. He was glad that Goose was with him. They balanced each other well.

Robin crawled across the beam, getting closer to the trucks. He swung out one of the factory windows and landed on the top of one of the trucks. He slipped into the trailer, and hid behind the crates that were already in there.

“I’m in,” he whispered.

“Roger that,” Goose answered. “I’ve got your location. I’ll follow you from the rooftops.”

It took a little while longer for the trucks to finish loading. Robin braced his hand against a crate as the truck pulled away from the bay doors. The ride was uneventful. Robin looked at his map to see where they were going. They headed out of the bowery, and across the bridge to Tricorner Island, then into Old Gotham. It would be the perfect place for a chemical attack, if that’s what they had planned.

Robin peered into one of the crates. They were full of what looked like unmarked oxygen tanks, though he doubted they had oxygen in them. There were no clues as to what was in them, and he wasn’t going to risk the noise necessary to find out.

The truck entered one of the maintenance tunnels there, leading to the subways. Robin was worried that Goose might lose his signal, but he couldn’t focus on that now. Eventually, the truck came to a stop, and the trailer door opened. “Get those boxes unloaded, you useless freaks!” Harley’s voice echoed around the tunnels. She’s here, Robin thought, taking a breath to steel himself.

He considered bursting out then and there, but that would be rash. He had the Batcomputer scan his surroundings. They were in an open space in the junction between two tunnels, and it was crawling with goons. Harley was near the edge, standing over someone that was sitting, if the heat signature was to be believed.

“Please,” Robin heard a voice begging above the noise of the boxes being unloaded. “I don’t want to die!” It was a woman’s voice.

“Goose,” he whispered into the radio. “We have a possible hostage situation.”

“Copy that,” Goose responded.

“You’re not going to die, silly girl!” Harley said, a playful note in her voice. “But you’ll wish you were! You see, you’re today’s lucky guinea pig. We’ve got a special treat for you! Now now, no squirming! Doctor’s orders!” Robin heard a heavy thump, and concluded that Harley had struck the hostage, likely with a bat.

The hostage settled for crying. Robin could feel the rage building up in him. He clenched his fist, creeping forward to peer around the crates. According to the Batcomputer, there were roughly 20 goons, though it was possible there were more in the tunnels beyond.

When the next man came for a crate, Robin grabbed him and dragged him into the truck, his hand over the man’s mouth. Robin made quick work of a chokehold, and hid the unconscious man behind the crates.

Of course, it didn’t take long for his comrades to come looking for him. A small group approached the truck, assault rifles in hand. Robin took a deep breath, and prayed that Goose was there. Just as they reached the truck bed, he tossed out a smoke grenade, and knocked them out in the confusion.

“Well well,” Harley’s voice was much closer when the smoke cleared. “If it isn’t boy wonder! Where’s your handler? Am I not special enough for Batsy himself?” Robin turned to face her, cracking his knuckles. “Sorry Harley,” he said. “Just me and a duck.”

Harley tilted her head. “A duck?”

“Goose!” Goose dropped on her from the grating on the tunnel ceiling, wrapping her legs around Harley’s neck and taking her to the ground in a submission hold.

Damn, that’s hot. Robin tried not to let himself get distracted. He took on the goons gunning for them, trying to draw their fire with quick movements so Goose could take on Harley Quinn. He managed to get them to hit each other in the crossfire. Poorly trained, he thought, just as a bullet grazed his shoulder and hit the man behind him in the chest. One less, he thought, trying to draw fire towards one of the side tunnels.

“Poor children,” a new voice seemed to ring out over a loudspeaker, surrounding them. “Like lambs to the slaughter.” Something hissed, and the air changed. Green smoke began pouring out of the backs of the truck he had been on.

“Gas!” Robin shouted, sprinting towards Goose. She was engaged with Harley Quinn, the two of them exchanging blows back and forth. Goose hit harder, but Harley was quick, and Goose seemed to be having a hard time catching her. Robin saw the syringe in Harley’s hand a second too late. He opened his mouth to warn Goose just as it pierced through her suit.

His vision wavered. Harley gave her signature bow, and took off down the tunnel. “Batgirl,” he cried out over the radio, racing to get to Goose. “It was a trap! There’s gas in the tunnels! Goose has been injected with something!”

“Get out of there, Robin!” Barbara’s voice sounded strained. “Analysis shows that its fear gas. We’ll treat Goose in the batmobile.”

Goose hit the ground like a sandbag. “It’s not real,” she whimpered, holding her ears. Robin saw blood oozing between her fingers, and his heart skipped a beat. A blood-chilling scream erupted from her throat.

“Goose!” Robin shouted. She turned towards him. Her eyes were black, and her jaw was missing. Fear took hold of him. He knelt in front of her, his hands shaking. “Goose, what happened?”

“Robin,” her voice sounded disjointed, like he was hearing her through radio static. “Robin,” it was calmer, but it sounded distant. Her face began to turn a horrible blue-grey hue. He was horrified. “Goose, what’s happening to you?!” He asked, his voice breaking halfway through the question.

“It’s not real!” Twisted, broken fingers gripped his shoulders. “Robin, listen to me,” she begged him. Blood began oozing from her eyes. Robin closed his eyes, but that was worse. Her face was all around him, twisted and mangled, just like his father’s had been. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but nothing came out. He saw his father standing over her with a bloody crowbar. He bared his teeth in a feral gesture.

Something warm wrapped around him. He opened his eyes. Goose was pressed against his chest, her arms around him. The pressure was calming. “It’s not real,” she repeated. Her left arm reached out to her side, and something fired out of it. Next thing he knew, he was being dragged across the ground. Joker had a hold of him, and was dragging him to hell. He screamed, and began thrashing.

“Robin,” there was a familiar voice in his ear. “It’s fear toxin. You can fight this.” That might have been Barbara. He had a sinking feeling that something horrible was going to happen to her. “Babs,” he sobbed, struggling against the serpent wrapped around him.

Suddenly, his face was blasted with something cold. It felt incredible, like water on a fire. He coughed a few times, and trembled violently. It was dark, and he thought he might have been blinded.

A harsh light shone in his face. He held up his hand to block it. “Robin,” a soft voice reached his ears. “We’re out. We’re okay. We have to keep moving, we can’t wait for it to wear off.”

Robin blinked a few times, looking up at Goose. Her eyes were still black, but her jaw was there, and her skin looked normal. Of course, it had all been hallucinations. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus on reality, but it was hard when he could hear his father’s sick laughter in his ear.

“I’m sending the Batmobile,” Barbara said over the radio. Goose hauled Robin to his feet and dragged him towards the tunnel exit. “I’m supposed to save you,” he said. His throat felt raw, as if he’d been screaming for a long time.

“You did,” Goose told him. Her smile wasn’t as sinister as his brain was trying to make him think it was. It’s not real, he told himself. Her face isn’t melting, she’s okay. I’m okay.

They collapsed onto the uneven ground under a bridge, sucking in the cool night air as if they’d been drowning. He didn’t know how long they lay there. He could see faces swirling around him, and the scenery warping. Something was skittering over the bottom of the bridge, but he was too exhausted to fight it.

The Batmobile pulled up to them, sending up a cloud of dust as it screeched to a halt. Goose made an effort to stand, but her legs didn’t support her. “Help,” she whispered, her fingers digging into the rocky earth beneath them. Robin used all of his strength to haul her to her feet and shove her into the Batmobile. He crawled over her to the other seat and slumped down, his cheek pressed against the cold window. The streetlights around them had an ominous glow, as if they were staring at him.

Something hot gripped his hand. He turned his head to see Goose grasping his hand, her eyes screwed tightly shut. She whimpered quietly. The batmobile drove off on autopilot.

“Goose,” Jason murmured. He pulled on her hand. She slumped against his chest and he held her, running his fingers through her hair, like she’d done for him so many times before. She relaxed gradually, her fists gripping the fabric of his cape.

He rested his chin on her head. “Your hair is getting longer,” he commented, preferring small talk to silence. The toxin was wearing off, and the Batmobile stopped feeling so small. “Thanks,” she mumbled against his neck. Her nose was cold.

Batman’s face appeared on the Batmobile’s screen. “Robin, report.” He ordered. Robin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It was a trap,” he explained. “The truck was full of fear toxins. The hostage was an actor, and fled the scene once the fighting began.”

“You’re lucky you got a low dose. Good work getting out of there as fast as you did. You likely would have been kidnapped if you hadn’t gotten out. Batgirl was picking up on reinforcements heading that way.” Batman said. Robin rubbed his arm, where he had been dragged through the dirt. “Goose gets that credit,” he admitted. “She pulled us out when we got gassed.”

“Well done,” Batman praised. Jason was surprised he wasn’t admonishing them for failing their mission. Batman seemed to pick up on his surprise. “Had I known that Scarecrow was involved,” the older hero said, “I would have handled it myself. You two did well. The batmobile’s preliminary scans suggest that Goose was injected with the toxins. I’ll follow up on the case, and we’ll introduce fear toxin training for you two. Autopilot is set to bring you back to the Batcave for debrief. Batman out.” The screen went dark.

“Holy shit,” Bess mumbled. “He actually praised us in Bat mode.” Jason hugged her closer, hoping his heart would slow down with the pressure of her body against his. “Buy a lottery ticket,” he joked.

“Hey,” Bess squeezed him. “I have a surprise for you when we get back.”

“It had better not be anything fear related,” Jason said. Bess let out an amused snort. “It’s not,” she promised. “It might help you feel better.” Her nose was warm now, nuzzled up against his throat.

“What is it?” He asked, absently watching the streetlights rush by out the window. Bess tapped her fingers rapidly on his chest. “Can’t tell you,” she replied. “It wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Jason smiled despite himself. “You’re no fun,” he said, resting his cheek on her head. It was nice like this, just the two of them. The fear toxin had pretty much worn off, and his heart had slowed to a tolerable rate. He was feeling a little shaky, but her presence steadied him. She seemed to still be fighting it. He trailed his fingers down her back, hoping to calm her. It seemed to work.

The world outside the window darkened as the car pulled into the batcave. When Bess moved away, Jason felt cold. He followed her out of the car, into the cave, where Batman and Batgirl were waiting for them.

The debrief was short. It was more of a medical checkup than anything else. They both reported all they had seen, had a snack, then left the two senior vigilantes to speculate.

“Dibs on the shower,” Bess claimed in the elevator. Jason huffed, “you always get to go first.”

“Of course I do. Ladies first,” she retorted with a grin. Damn, she looked exhausted.

“What about my surprise?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Bess looked thoughtful. “Okay,” she said. “I guess we can do that first.”

Jason followed her out of the elevator, through the halls of Wayne Manor, to her room. She seemed nervous, bouncy on her feet. Jason wondered what kind of surprise had her so jumpy. Maybe it was just the remnants of the fear toxin. It should have worn off by now, but it was possible the effects might linger for her.

She stopped him in the doorway. “Close your eyes.” Jason obeyed. He was tempted to peek, but he didn’t want to push his luck. He heard her rustling around. “Hold out your hands,” she told him. Her voice was shaky.

He held out his hands, and grasped at the bundle thrust into them. A sweet, floral scent reached his nose, and he opened his eyes. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, primarily marigolds, with a few tulips mixed in. Jason couldn’t help but to smile. “You got me flowers?”

Bess nodded. Her cheeks were flushed under the edges of her mask. Jason inhaled deeply. “Marigolds are my favorite,” he said. “Thank you.”

“There’s something else,” Bess began. She was staring at her feet. It made Jason’s heart skip a beat. She bit her lip, then shook her head. “Maybe it should wait until we’ve slept off the toxin.” Jason reached out and put his hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “Besss,” he said. “You can tell me anything.”

Bess took a deep, shuddering breath. She reached up and took off her mask, looking up at him with big doe eyes. “I…” she began. Jason swallowed the lump in his throat. Bess looked down at the floor and mumbled, “I like you.”

Jason’s heart pounded in his ears. “Thanks,” he replied, then regretted it as soon as the word was out of his mouth. “Shit, that was stupid,” he said, then set the flowers on the dresser next to the door. “Bess,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. She looked like she might cry. “Bess, I like you too,” he finally said, and saw the relief rush across her face, followed by joy.

He kissed her. It felt like a movie moment from one of Barbara’s romcoms. She was warm, and soft, and he melted when she threw her arms around his neck. He brought his hands down from her face and hugged her close. The way she fit against him, it was like they were made for each other.

When she stopped kissing him, he took a moment to just stare at her. The silly grins broke across their faces in unison, and Bess devolved into nervous giggles. Jason pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. “I love you,” he mumbled. “And I like you.”

“I love you, Jason,” she replied, and it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard.

Chapter Text

The click of a camera shutter made Goose stop in her tracks. She had just taken down a group of street thugs that were robbing a young couple when she heard it. She turned towards the source of the sound, peering into the darkness of the alleyway.

A soft, nearly imperceptible sound alerted her of someone fleeing. She gave chase, and the footsteps grew louder as the photographer fled. Fortunately for her, there was nowhere for them to go, and she caught them at the end of the alley.

The boy saw that he couldn’t escape, and turned around to face her. He had a huge grin on his face, and held up his camera. “Wow!” He said, his voice cracking. He was young, in the early throes of puberty. Poor kid. “You’re Goose, right?” He asked excitedly. “What made you pick that name?”

Goose recognized him. “You’re the kid that’s been tailing Batman.” She stated. “Timothy Drake,” he said, holding out his hand. “You can call me Tim.” Goose frowned, but shook it. Who was she to crush some kid’s mood?

“Following us is dangerous, kid.” She told him, crossing her arms.

“Oh, I can handle it,” Tim said. “And I’m not a kid. I’m fourteen. You’re around seventeen, right? You’re still a kid yourself.”

“You’re an observant one,” Goose said, taking a step back. Batman had said this kid was dangerously smart. “Why are you following me?”

“Batman has the night off, right?” He knew their schedule? “So it makes sense to follow you. I’d follow Robin, but he told me in no uncertain terms to fuck off.” Tim replied cheerily. Jason had probably threatened him within an inch of his life, but Tim seemed unbothered.

Goose laughed before she could stop herself. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

Tim nodded eagerly. “You’re a lot nicer than him. Prettier, too.”

Goose rolled her eyes. “I’m too old for you, kid.”

“Worth a shot.” Tim shrugged, then took another picture of her. “You’d better get going,” he said casually. “The cops are almost here.”

Goose patted his shoulder, “thanks for the tip.” She fired her grapple towards the rooftops and let it pull her up and out of the alley. She could hear the sirens approaching the alley she had left the street thugs in.

It had been a couple of years since Jason and Bruce had found her in that very alley. She had later learned that alley had been the same one that Bruce had found Jason in, trying to steal the tires off of the Batmobile. Something about it was special, or cursed, depending on how you thought about it.

Now, she had met Tim there. For his sake, she hoped the alley’s habit of providing vigilantes had ended with her.

Bess pushed these thoughts out of her mind. She had more important things to worry about. She skipped over a few streets, then summoned the Batcycle. It had taken her months to wheedle Batman down into letting her use it unsupervised. Of course, there were stipulations, but wearing a helmet was something she planned to do anyway.

She felt a rush of adrenaline just sitting on the magnificent work of machinery. Jason spent hours at a time working on it. It was as much his baby as it was Bruce’s.

She raced through the streets, the Batcycle’s roar drowning out the sounds of the city around her. Her mind wandered to thoughts of Jason. They’d been dating for a while now, but between patrol and schooling, they didn’t have much time to actually spend together. They’d only been on a few real dates.

Still, the thought made her smile. They were making it work. Bruce had nearly had a heart attack when they told him, and Alfred had gotten his powerpoints out again. That had been mortifying, but it was a funny memory in hindsight. Besides, they had yet to even take that… extra step. Both of them felt like they were too young, not ready, despite the tension between them some nights. She couldn’t even see him with his shirt off without her face burning. So, Bess had been content with makeout sessions.

Those had been wonderful.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she stopped the bike in Old Gotham, near Craig bridge. She was meeting Commissioner Gordon that night, following up on a lead about the Joker’s whereabouts. He’d recently escaped. Again. Bess sighed at the thought. She parked the Batcycle in an alley, cloaked it, and proceeded on foot to the space under the bridge.

Gordon never showed. Bess waited for an hour beyond their agreed upon time, then began to worry. She radioed the cave, “hey Batman, Commissioner Gordon never showed up. Any idea why?”

Alfred answered her. “Goose, return to the Batcave. There’s been an incident.”

Bess’s heart dropped to her stomach. “Is Batman okay?”

“Yes,” Alfred answered, “but you need to return.”

Bess sprinted for the Batcycle, her heart racing. When Alfred said there was an incident, he really meant something horrible had happened. It was never good. She raced through the streets of Gotham, heading north for the manor.

She stumbled off the bike, hardly bothering to turn it off when she got to the Batcave. She could hear the familiar sounds of Jason and Bruce arguing, but something was different. Bruce sounded… strange. Like he had a sore throat.

“He’s a fucking monster, Bruce!” Jason was shouting, his hands in the air. “Is this really not enough for you? Look at what he’s done to Barbara!”

“Barbara?” Bess asked, her heart dropping into her stomach. A sense of dread overtook her as Jason and Bruce looked in her direction. Bruce looked pale, and his eyes were red, as if he’d been crying.

She’d never seen him cry before.

Jason’s face was flushed. He looked furious. That was nothing new, but something was different.

“What happened to Barbara?” Bess asked, almost afraid of the answer. Bruce looked back at the batcomputer. “She’s in the hospital,” he answered calmly. “Commissioner Gordon is missing. It’s very likely that the Joker has him. I have a lead on their location.”

“In the hospital?” Bess looked to Jason for answers. “Is she going to be okay?”

Jason’s fists trembled at his sides, and he averted his gaze. “No,” he answered. “He shot her. She’ll never walk again, and the things that monster did to her-” he cut off, his voice catching in his throat. He put his hand over his mouth and turned his back to her. “She’s unconscious for now,” he said, barely above a whisper. 

Bruce put on his cowl and turned to address them. “She’s stable. You two stay here. While it’s likely that Barbara was targeted because she’s the Commissioner's daughter, it’s also possible that Joker found out she’s Batgirl. I won't put you two in danger. You’re confined to the cave and the manor until I get back. Understood?”

“Fuck you,” Jason lashed out at him. “Barbara is our family too, and you need all hands on deck to hunt-”

Bruce squared his shoulders, and Jason fell silent. The rage was apparent, but even he wouldn’t defy Batman to his face.

“Stay. Here.” Batman enunciated the words. Jason nodded once, looking down at his feet. Batman took the batcycle and left. Bess took off her mask, approaching Jason. “Jason,” she began quietly. He shook his head, his eyes scrunched closed. “He needs to die, Bess.” His voice was shaky.

“You know I agree with you,” they’d had this conversation before, “but Batman-”

“Fuck Batman!” Jason glared at her. She knew he wasn’t angry with her, but she took a half step back anyway. He let out a frustrated shout, jumping around on his feet. “Batman would let the entirety of Gotham die horrible deaths, if the only way to stop it was to kill someone! Sometimes it’s just fucking necessary!” His voice cracked at the end, and he crouched down, hugging his knees.

“If we kill him, he wins,” Bess said, mirroring Batman’s words. Jason scoffed, “you sound just like him.” Normally, that would be a good thing, but he meant it as an insult. Bess knew he was just upset. “He wants to corrupt us, Jason,” she said. He stood up straight, and headed for the equipment racks.

“Jason,” Bess began, swallowing the lump in her throat. “We can’t go after him.”

“Then stay here,” he said, his back to her. He began hooking things to his utility belt. He took a knife and tucked it in his boot.

She sighed deeply. Her heart was racing, and she made an effort to calm down. “Batman gave his orders,” she said.

“Then you can follow them.” He turned to face her, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were hidden behind the Robin mask, but it couldn’t hide his fury. His lips curled up in a sneer of disgust. “Batman isn’t what this city needs. Gotham needs someone willing to cross that line. Joker has gone too far, and I can’t let him get away with what he did to Barbara.”

Bess matched his stance. “Jason, you can’t go. You’re not thinking straight. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Jason was silent for a long moment. His arms dropped to his sides, and he took a few slow steps towards her, until she could feel his breath on her face. She looked up at him, meeting his angry gaze defiantly. He regarded her for what seemed like eternity. Finally, he asked quietly, “are you going to stop me?” It was the calmest he had been since she’d returned. It was clear that the question was an ultimatum.

Would she stop him? He patiently waited for an answer. Could she stop him? Probably. But at what cost? Did she even want to stop him?

It was Bruce’s voice in her head that answered the question. Yes.  

“Yes.” Her voice sounded more confident than she felt. He raised an eyebrow, the fabric of his mask clinging to it. She cleared her throat, and said, “I can’t let you go by yourself, Jason, and I won’t be part of a murder. You’re right. Joker does deserve to die, but we can’t be the ones to kill him.”

Jason nodded slowly, breaking eye contact and looking down at the floor. He pursed his lips, then pressed them in a tight line. “Alright,” he said, seeming to relent, but she got the feeling that he wasn’t going to let this go. He looked at her again, and brought his hand up to her cheek. The fingertips of his gloves were rough against her skin.

“I’m sorry about this, Bess.” He murmured, almost sweetly, with a half smile. Before she could react, he jabbed something sharp into her neck. A cold feeling flooded her legs, and suddenly, they wouldn’t hold her weight. She crumpled to the floor. The cold feeling crawled up her spine. She watched his boots as he walked away from her. A syringe dropped from his gloved hand, seemingly taking an eternity to hit the floor. The sound of the glass shattering echoed in her head. Darkness closed in on the edges of her vision. She reached out toward him, then fell unconscious.

“Miss Brown? Miss Brown!” Bess had a pounding headache. She groaned and shoved at the force shaking her shoulders. “Miss Brown, please, you need to wake up!” Her eyes cracked open to see Alfred kneeling next to her, shaking her awake.

“Alfred?” Her voice sounded gravelly, and her throat was dry enough to make her cough. Alfred held a plastic bottle to her lips. Water had never tasted so good, and she gulped it down. She sat up on her own, rubbing her eyes. She was incredibly sore. “What happened?” She asked, looking up at Alfred.

“It would appear,” Alfred began apprehensively, “that Master Todd has left the premises, despite Batman’s orders.”

The memory of their argument came flooding back. “THAT FUCKER DRUGGED ME!” Bess screeched, scrambling to her feet. Shock, rage, and betrayal tumbled around in her gut, and despite herself, her eyes began to water. How could he?

As soon as she was on her feet, a wave of dizziness washed over her, and she stumbled forward. Alfred caught her, and guided her to sit down in the chair in front of the Batcomputer. “Please, Miss Brown,” he handed her a bottle of water. “The sedative has some side effects. You should sit down. Did Master Todd say where he was going?”

“I don't remember,” Bess answered groggily, sipping on the bottle. “How long have I been out?”

“Roughly 12 hours,” Bruce’s voice startled her. He was standing at the equipment shelves. “Judging by the gear he took, and the argument you had, I’m assuming he's going to try to kill Joker.” He turned to look at her. His expression was grim, but otherwise unreadable. Bess nodded. She felt tension well up in her chest, and hot tears spilled over her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Bruce,” she began, “I didn’t know he would-”

Bruce held up a hand, and his expression softened. “No one blames you, Bess.” He approached her, standing just a few feet away. She looked up at him, struggling to contain her sobs. The effects of the sedatives made the emotions feel stronger, uncontainable.

“I’m proud of you,” Bruce said, “for standing up to him. I watched the footage from the cave cameras. I didn’t think that he would do something like this, and I never thought he would hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t see this coming.”

“He didn’t!” She jumped to Jason’s defense. “He didn’t hurt me,” she insisted, but Bruce shook his head and knelt next to the chair. “Bess,” he said gently, “he sedated you against your will and left you here on the floor. He betrayed your trust, our trust, and now he’s missing. He’s angry, and he’s not thinking straight.”

“We’ll find him,” Bess insisted, her fists bunching up the fabric around her knees. A sob burst out of her mouth, and she slapped a hand over it, trying to contain herself. Bruce put a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. She tumbled forward, bawling into his chest and gripping his cape with shaking hands. Gentle hands patted her back. Sobs wracked her body as the realization of what had happened hit her.

Jason had drugged her, and now he was gone. She had failed to see what he was becoming. She should have noticed. She’d failed him. “We have to find him before he does something stupid!” She managed to get out between breaths. “We will,” Bruce assured her. “But you need to rest right now.”

“What?” She shifted away from him. “I need to help you look for him!”

“You might be awake, but the sedative hasn’t worn off yet.” Bruce explained. “You would be a liability. You can help me look tomorrow.”

Bess wanted to argue, but she knew deep down that he was right. She felt slow, and her emotions were clouding her mind like a storm. She took a few deep, shuddering breaths.

“I’ll find him,” Bruce promised, then looked up at Alfred. Alfred took the cue and helped Bess to her feet. “How about a hot bath?” The butler offered. Bess nodded meekly, feeling rather empty inside.

Everything had fallen apart so fast. 

Chapter Text

It was one of the hardest days of Dick’s life, and he had seen many hard days. He sat in the parlor of Wayne Manor, next to Barbara, their fingers pressed together without actually holding hands. It was a small gesture of comfort. It didn’t help.

It had been roughly three months since Jason disappeared. Three months that had been absolutely hellacious on all of them. Barbara spent half of it in the hospital, and was still getting used to her wheelchair. She still insisted on doing everything herself, of course, and more than once, Jim, her father, had found her on the floor of their apartment, struggling to get back in her chair.

Joker was back in Arkham Asylum, for now, but even Dick was beginning to question if letting him live was still a good idea. Of course, he understood why Bruce insisted on the justice system, broken as it was, but the villain had gone too far. Barbara still woke in the night, screaming, and Dick had spent many afternoons holding her while she cried.

Then there was Bruce. He was… unwell. He had worn himself down to the bone, obsessively searching for Jason. Nothing else mattered. Dick couldn’t say he hadn’t expected that reaction, but Bruce barely slept now. Dick had been spending more time at the manor, trying to ease the pain in any way that he could, but it did little to help. Bruce was lost to his grief.

Bess was no better. She didn’t attend her own high school graduation, instead searching with Bruce, spending day after day and night after night combing the streets of Gotham. That day, she was diving in the bay, hoping to at least find a body. They'd long since given up hope of finding him alive, but she believed that finding the body would bring them some sort of closure, and point to someone to punish.

She had yet to discover that the body had been found. She’d be the last in the family to know.

“She’s not going to take it well,” Barbara said softly, intuitive as ever about what was on his mind. “No,” he agreed, “it will be messy.”

She put her hand on top of his, grasping his fingers, and asked, “are you ready to handle this?”

He gave her a pitiful attempt at a smile. “Someone has to.”

“It doesn’t have to be you,” she said. He shrugged, and replied, “it won't be Bruce. If not him, then it should be me.” He turned his hand over, grasping hers in return.

“I could tell her, or Alfred,” Barbara suggested. "She's close to Alfred. He could break it gently. I could too." She was so sweet, and she loved Bess just as much as the rest of them, but she had too many of her own burdens at the moment. Dick shook his head. “You’ve got enough on your plate,” he said, “and Alfred is helping Bruce to dress the body. I'd like to at least warn her before she sees him.”

The front door opened. Bess entered the parlor, her hair still dripping, with a wet bag of diving gear. “Lunch time,” she said when she saw them. It would be the first thing she'd eaten since the day before, and even that wasn't much. She’d lost weight, and the bags under her eyes looked like they were pulling down on her face. Dick’s heart squeezed, and he stood. “Bess,” he began, his mouth feeling suddenly rather dry. He swallowed thickly, his heart pounding.

He didn’t want to tell her, but he had to.

“What’s wrong, Dick?” She asked, a spark of concern brightening her otherwise dull eyes. Her eyebrows pulled together in question.

Dick took a deep breath. “Bess, we found him. I’m sorry.”

For a brief instant, her face lit up with hope. As soon as it had come, however, it was gone. “You’re sorry?” She asked, barely above a whisper. “No.” She shook her head, her fingers coming up to her mouth. “No, no, he can’t be- NO!” The scream that ripped out of her chilled his blood, and he watched her crumble to the floor. “No, no no no,” she repeated, sobbing into her hands. Dick took a step towards her, searching for the right thing to say. There was no right thing to say, but he felt like he should say something. 

“Where is he?” She asked, looking up at him. She looked haunted. He replied, “Alfred and Bruce are… preparing the body. They’re upstairs, in-”

She took off before he could finish, scrambling to her feet and practically galloping up the stairs. Dick looked to Barbara, seeing that she was crying into a tissue. She didn’t look at him, but gestured towards the stairs. He understood, and followed Bess up.

When he got to the room, Bess had thrown herself over the body and was wailing. His heart clenched, feeling like a stone in his chest. Bruce was on the opposite side of the table, staring blankly out the window. Alfred was patting Bess’s back, and dabbing at his own eyes with a handkerchief.

Dick took a deep breath, and approached the body. He had to force himself forward, one step at a time. By the time he got to the table, Bess was clinging to Alfred, begging for it not to be true. Dick was overwhelmed by a wave of guilt. “It’s my fault!” Bessie wailed. Alfred shushed her gently, telling her it wasn’t, but it did little to help.

I wasn’t there.

The thought was treacherous, and yet, there it was. I wasn’t there when he needed me. I wasn’t there to stop him. I wasn’t there to train him, to help him, to teach him. I wasn’t there for her, either, or Barbara, or Bruce. I was in Bludhaven, with my head too far up my own ass to see how much they needed me.

This is my fault.

Dick took a step back. He felt like an outsider, watching them grieve together through a window, and had an odd feeling, like he didn’t belong there. Behind that feeling, came a hard resolution.

He would not make the same mistake again.

It rained, the day of the funeral. Of course it rained. The heavens themselves wept for Robin, boy wonder, and Jason Todd, just a boy. A sea of black umbrellas crowded around the open grave to watch as the casket was lowered down. Bruce and Bess threw in the first handfuls of dirt. Then Alfred, Dick, and Barbara. Dick stood by the grave for a long time, long after most of the crowd had departed. So did Bess.

They looked up at each other at the same time, each mirroring the other’s grim expression. “I’m sorry,” Dick began. Bess shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault,” she told him.

“I wasn’t here.” He tried to explain.

“You’re here now.” She reached over the grave, taking one of his hands in hers. “You’re here now,” she repeated, as if she were trying to get him to understand.

He squeezed her hand, then let go. “I am,” he said, hoping she believed how much he meant it. He vowed to himself to play a more active role in her life, in her training, in being the big brother he was supposed to be. It was too late to save Jason, but he could still save Bess.

Chapter Text

Gotham cemetery was peaceful in the afternoons. Bess walked at an easy pace between the headstones, relishing the cool shade of the trees she passed. She needed to get away from the manor for a while. Dick was staying there, and as much as she appreciated his presence, he was smothering her, like a mother hen. Bruce was absent, spending all his time in the Batcave, when he wasn’t out on patrol. She barely saw him. Alfred was going through the motions, and desperately trying to bring Bruce back. It wasn’t working.

She’d spent the morning with Barbara, after arguing with Bruce. ‘ I’m still here! I need you too!’ The words echoed in her head, but they had fallen on deaf ears when she spoke them. Bruce barely acknowledged her now, in the weeks following the funeral. He was just… there. Buried in his work, buried in his grief. Even Alfred couldn’t get him to eat much.

Then there was Dick. Dick was desperately trying to fill that now-empty role for her, as a brother, as a mentor, but Bruce was a father to her. Dick just couldn’t be that. He didn’t really know how to be what she needed. Not that she blamed him, but he was smothering her.

Babs had been staying in the clock tower, determined to get back to work. She’d taken the name Oracle. Jim had been less than pleased when she moved out just days after Jason’s funeral, but she had also felt smothered. She and Bess understood each other well, and had been spending more time together. They were both getting a bit overwhelmed by Dick, who was going through his own grief, and Jim, who was going through his own fear. The Commissioner had lived his worst nightmare. No one is the same after something like that.

Bess spent most mornings of the past week in the clock tower, just enjoying Babs’ company.

Today, she was paying a visit to a friend. She cradled a bouquet of flowers in her arm, primarily marigolds. That familiar empty feeling filled her chest, and she had to fight to take the next step.

Here Lies Jason Todd.

The headstone seemed to mock her. She bit her lip and knelt in front of it. Grass was just starting to push up through the dirt, a reminder of how fresh the grave was. She put the bouquet down underneath the carved stone, then pressed her hand to the cool surface. She let out a shuddering breath. “It never gets easier,” she said to the stone.

“No,” a familiar voice said behind her, “it doesn’t, does it?”

Bess’s spine went cold, like Mr. Freeze had gotten ahold of her. She swallowed thickly. Slowly, she turned her head around, and when her eyes met the stranger’s, her jaw dropped. It was no stranger.

“Mama?”

The warm smile was so familiar on her mother’s face. She had a few more wrinkles, and her hair had streaks of gray, but it was her. Bess jumped to her feet, hardly able to believe her eyes. “Mama, is that you?”

The woman nodded, holding her arms out. “Oh, baby, I missed you so much!” Bess rushed forward, engulfing her mother in her arms. “Mama!” She cried, squeezing. Then she took a deep inhale, burying her face in Mama’s shoulder, desperate to take in her smell, like fresh bread.

All she smelt was earth, like the grave she was standing by.

Bess jumped back, shoving ‘Mama’ away. She visibly recoiled, her lip curling into an enraged sneer. “You’re not my mother,” she hissed. “Who the fuck are you?”

The woman looked visibly shocked and hurt for a moment. “Honey, it’s me, your Mama. How could you say that to your own Mama?”

Bess crossed her arms. “Don’t give me that. Did you really think I wouldn’t know my own mother? You’re not her.”

The emotion dropped from the woman’s face. “Oh well,” she said. “I tried doing this the easy way.” The feminine tone dropped from her voice, replaced by something gravelly. The woman held her hand up, opening her palm, and blew a handful of dust into Bess’s face. Bess tried blowing out, like Bruce had taught her, but the dust seemed to cling to her, blinding her, and she sucked in a breath before long. As soon as she did, she was out like a light.

Chapter Text

Fuck, this is bad. Tim looked up at the foreboding walls of the steel foundry with a sense of despair. After witnessing her kidnapping in the Cemetery, Tim had tracked Bessie and her captors to the foundry. Nothing good could be happening there.

He knew Clayface was involved. Bessie’s reaction had told him that much. He’d been watching her in the cemetery when a woman approached her. Bessie had appeared to recognize the woman at first, but her body language had quickly turned hostile. After that, the woman had blown a handful of powder in Bessie’s face, then caught her when she fell. The woman, most likely Clayface, dragged Bessie to a nearby SUV and tossed her in the trunk.

Clayface clearly wasn’t the only villain involved. The powder he’d blown in Bessie’s face couldn’t have been his, and subtle kidnappings weren’t really his thing. Someone else was the mastermind.

Tim had tailed them, hoping to find out more information about who was responsible. He wanted to save Bessie, but he knew he needed more information and better preparation before he went up against Clayface. That’s what Batman would do, after all, and he was determined to be like Batman.

Now, standing outside of the foundry, he had a distinct sense that he was in over his head. A few goons in Two-Face getup were hanging out near the front entrance, trying to look natural. They were well-armed.

Tim turned around and began walking away. He took out his cellphone and made a call.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end sounded confused.

“Hey, Barbara!” Tim greeted her as if they were old friends and he totally had a legitimate way to get her contact information. “How’s it going?”

“Who is this?” Barbara sounded confused. Tim rolled his eyes, smiling to himself. “It’s Tim Drake. Listen-”

“You again? Look, I’ve told you-” She began, but he cut her off. “Yeah, yeah, listen, this is important. Bessie Brown has just been kidnapped by Clayface. Here’s what I know.” He regaled her with the story, up until him calling her.

“Shit,” Barbara muttered over the phone. “Thank you,” she said after a moment. “I’ll get someone on it. Tim, it’s appreciated. Really. We probably wouldn’t have known until tonight at the earliest. Damn, they picked a bad time. You’ve saved us a lot of trouble.”

“No problem! Now tell Bruce that.” He grinned, then hung up.

This could be it. Helping to save his adopted daughter could give him the in he needed to get on Bruce Wayne’s good side, and hopefully join his team. Who knows?

Chapter Text

It was unbearably hot. Heat was the first thing that crept into Bess’s consciousness. She groaned, trying to bring her hand to her face, when she found that she couldn’t move her hands. There was an intense pressure behind her eyes. When she opened them, she was staring up at the sun.

Actually, as she oriented herself, she realized she was staring down. The ‘sun’ below was bubbling steel, by the smell, and she was suspended upside-down above it. Her head ached, but she was conscious, so she hadn’t been there long. She tried to remember what happened, how she had gotten here, but she couldn’t. There was a grate below her, but she was hanging over a hole in it. When she tried to look up, she saw steel cording wrapped around her ankles, and beyond that, the opening of a smokestack. The moon hung perfectly in the opening, looking like a smile that was mocking her.

I must be in the foundry, she thought. But how did I get here? A door opened, and she realized with growing horror that she felt a draft on her face. She wasn’t wearing a mask. She looked at herself, and realized she was in civilian clothes. Goose wasn’t in this situation. Bessie Brown was.

She wished she could remember what happened.

“Good, you’re awake.” A soft, unsettling voice that reminded her of leaves rustling reached her ears. She craned her neck towards the source, and a chill ran down her back, despite the heat. Scarecrow stared up at her, head cocked to the side. His syringe fingers clacked together as he moved them.

“What do you want?” Bess asked. Her voice cracked. Her throat was dry from the heat, and it was painful to speak.

“Justice,” a new voice spoke behind her. She tried wriggling to turn around, but she didn’t need to bother. Two-Face took slow, deliberate steps until he was standing next to Scarecrow. His burnt side faced her.

“Justice?” Bess asked. It was hard to think with the heat, and the pressure in her head from being upside down for so long. She wrinkled her nose, trying to will it away.

“You messed with me one too many times, Bessie Brown,” Two-Face held up a finger, pointing at her. Bess coughed around the dryness of her throat. He continued, “because of you, I missed out on some serious opportunities. Just because Bruce Wayne took you in, doesn’t mean you're immune to consequences. We’re going to hold a trial, where I’ll demand reparations.” He looked up at her, his expression mildly amused. “You didn’t think I had forgotten, did you?”

“I’ll be the judge,” Scarecrow added, clacking his fingers once more. “I’ll be the jury,” Clayface added, standing in the doorway at the edge of the grate.

Bessie groaned, more irritated than anything. “That was years ago, Two-Face! I was a child! I haven’t been a thorn in your side for a long time.”

“I would argue that we’re not yet past the statute of limitations. It hasn’t been that long, little girl.” Two-Face sneered. “Besides, I have to make sure everyone knows that I don’t tolerate this kind of thing.” Bess got the sense that she was in real trouble. She tried wriggling her wrists, but her hands were bound tightly with the same steel cord that held her feet.

“I call this court to order,” Scarecrow began mockingly. Bess decided to try and draw this out for as long as possible, so the others might have time to save her, if they even knew she was missing. She decided to start out with the spoiled child act. “Do you know who I am? I’m the daughter of Bruce Wayne! He won’t let you get away with this.”

“Relax, little girl, you’re a legal adult now.” Two-Face sneered. “Money doesn’t solve everything,” he added, “and no one will fuck with the people who got away with murdering Wayne’s kid. Now, let’s get on with the trial.”

“I want to call witnesses!” Bess blurted out, her heart rate increasing. “Like who?” Scarecrow asked, then suggested, “Jason Todd, perhaps?”

It was a low blow. Rage flooded through Bess, and she bared her teeth. “How dare you,” she hissed. “How dare you speak his name!”

“I think it’s a fine idea,” Two-Face said, then gestured to Clayface. “Could the summoned witness come to the stand?”

Clayface morphed into a caricature of Jason, with sagging gray skin and blank eyes. Bess realized with horror that it was supposed to be a dead, decaying version of Jason. The rage blinded her, and she began to thrash.

“Your honor,” Two-Face said, “if you could sedate the accused.”

Scarecrow approached her and jabbed one of the syringes into her arm. She yelped, and felt the toxin flood her. The heat made her feel like she was already in hell. She used rage to fend off the fear, and began screaming obscenities. Demons surrounded her, and she struggled to remember Bruce’s training. She had never done particularly well against the fear toxin, and currently wasn’t involved in any missions with the Scarecrow, but she didn’t have a choice here.

Focus on your breathing, she heard Bruce’s voice in her head. Count your breaths. The numbers swirled in her field of vision, trying to trip her up, and she had to start over several times. She had no idea how long she did that, until she heard a slam on the grate, and Scarecrow’s voice. “We find the defendant guilty of all charges!”

Bess opened her eyes. Two-Face was holding his coin, and the burnt side was face up. His other hand was on a switch on the wall, connected to the cord around her feet. Panicking, she looked toward her feet, hoping to find some way of kicking out of the cord. A whimper escaped her throat as she realized they were going to drop her right into the boiling steel. “Help!” She screamed.

Something blue flashed in her vision, near the top of the smokestack. Familiar eyes met hers, and she opened her mouth to call out to him.

The cable slackened, and before she had a chance to breathe, she was falling. She hit the molten steel below head-first. It was like hitting concrete. She wasn’t even able to scream as fire engulfed her.

Everything burns.

Chapter Text

Dick’s heart was racing by the time he reached the location Babs had sent him, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Bess’s tracker led to the old steel foundry. There was smoke coming out of one of the smokestacks. Dick’s heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. That kid had better be right, he thought as he approached the top of the stack, his zipline whirring under his weight.

He perched on the top of the stack, leaning over to look through the grate. His breath caught in his throat. Below him, Bess was hanging by her ankles from a steel cord, and Two-Face had his hands on a switch.

Fuck, I’m too late! Nightwing was out of time.

He tried ripping open the grate, but it didn’t budge. He struggled to ward off the panic, and began bashing it at the edge with his escrima stick, hoping to loosen it from the concrete. His eyes met Bess’s. Hers were wide with fear. He opened his mouth to shout to her.

She plummeted into the boiling steel below. “No!” Nightwing shouted, finally slamming the grate hard enough to break the concrete around it. He ripped it up, feeling something pop in his back with the effort. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t care.

He heard shouts from below. Two-Face and Scarecrow were fleeing; Clayface was already gone. Nightwing jumped into the smokestack, using his grapple to stop his fall. He landed on the grate, looking down into the hole that Bess had fallen through.

Something looked back up at him. Eyes like glowing coals seemed to burn right through him. There was a loud screech that shook the smokestack enough to send a shower of dust and soot down. A burning hand reached out of the steel, then another, dragging a body of flame up out of the molten steel.

No , Nightwing thought. He was too stunned to move. The temperature continued to rise, and he could hear Barbara in his ear shouting at him to get out of there, but he couldn’t. Bess is down there, he thought. I was too late. I can’t leave her now.

The burning creature crawled up the side of the smokestack. With every inch, the temperature rose, until Nightwing’s skin stung. His eyes couldn’t even produce tears, it was so hot. He blinked, and it was like sandpaper against his eyes.

“Nightwing, you have to move!” Barbara’s voice finally reached him. He stumbled back towards the doorway, where the villains had disappeared. He could hear a horrible shrieking behind him. He burst into a large space in the foundry, with cold, dead furnaces and water troughs lingering. He dunked his head into one. It was like ice. He stood back up with a gasp and a cough, struggling to catch his breath. His lungs felt like they were full of hot coals.

The foundry shook beneath his feet. He could feel intense heat at his back. He turned around to see the burning creature in the doorway, hunched forward, like it was about to pounce. It was bright, like looking at the sun. Nightwing shielded his eyes.

Realization hit him like a truck. “Bess!” He shouted, his voice raspy. “Bessie, it’s me! It’s Nightwing!” The creature- no, Bess- turned towards him. It was like staring at a welding spark; it hurt to look at her, but Nightwing held her gaze.

She stared at him for a moment, then shrieked again. Her hands crushed the door frame she stood in. She looked away from him, towards the end of the steelworks. It was empty, the door swinging closed behind the fleeing villains.

She gave chase, and Nightwing reacted quickly. He felt numb, unfeeling as he grappled up to the ceiling. “Oracle,” he said, his voice rasping. “Where is the fire suppression system?”

Oracle sounded horrified and distracted when she answered. “Near the bay doors, to your left. I’ve called Batman, he’s on his way. Don’t get close to her, Nightwing, she’s reading at 2000 degrees Kelvin.”

Nightwing wasted no time in getting to the system panel. Bess had almost reached the far end of the shop when he set it off. He hoped that it wouldn’t kill her. He didn’t have much of a choice. If she got out into the city in her current state, it would be devastating.

If it came down to it, would he do the right thing? He didn’t know if he could stop her without killing her, and he definitely didn’t think he could kill her. Water began pouring from the sprinkler systems, and foam sprayed across the ground.

A gut-wrenching shriek rang out as the foundry filled with steam and smoke. Nightwing dropped to the floor, gasping for clean air. The stench of burning hair filled his nose. He blindly slammed the button to open the bay doors. Smoke billowed out into the street.

He staggered towards the epicenter, shoving armfuls of foam out of the way, trying to reach Bess. By the time he got to her, there was no light left. He feared the worst. Then he saw her, curled into a ball on the floor, completely naked and covered in foam, but otherwise appearing unharmed. He was so relieved to see her trembling that he nearly cried.

“Bess,” he croaked, and she flinched. Water from the sprinklers continued to rain down, washing the foam off of her. He reached out and put a hand on her bare back. She whimpered, but she didn’t move. She didn’t appear burned at all, but her skin was almost too hot to touch. “Bessie, it’s me,” he murmured.

She looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her lip was trembling. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Nightwing leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “It’s okay,” he soothed. He knew it wasn’t, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Something dropped over them, and Nightwing recognized Batman’s cape. He tucked it around Bess, wrapping her up in it. She didn’t protest, but she didn’t help. She stared blankly past him.

Batman knelt next to them. “What happened?” He asked in a calm tone. Nightwing couldn’t bring himself to look Bruce in the eye. He gazed numbly at the concrete beneath them and answered, “Two-Face happened. Scarecrow happened.” His voice sounded distant to himself. Bruce remained silent, waiting for him to say more.

“They dropped her,” he said after a moment. “They dropped her into molten steel.” Rage flooded through him, feeling like it might burn a hole in his chest. Every breath burned. Batman said, “she must have the meta-gene. The experience caused it to activate.”

Dick held Bess tighter and whispered, “I’ll kill them.”

“No,” Batman said, “but we will ensure they receive justice.”

“Fuck justice!” Dick shouted, then lowered his voice when Bess flinched. “There is no justice for men like them,” he said quietly. “There’s only revenge.”

“Revenge won’t help Bess now,” Batman said patiently, ever the voice of reason. “We need to get her home, and you need treatment, too. Look at her, Nightwing. She needs us right now.”

Dick lowered his gaze. Bess was still staring off into space. She trembled in his arms. “Bess,” he breathed, feeling his own limbs tremble.

So soon after Jason, it felt like the universe had spat in his face.

A heavy hand rested on his shoulder. It seemed to spark an involuntary reaction from his body. He curled over Bess, burying his face in her fluffy hair. He could hear his own heart pounding, and his vision blurred. He thought he had been mad when Jason was murdered, but it had nothing on this all-consuming feeling that flooded through him.

It scared him.

“Nightwing,” Batman’s voice seemed to break through the fog. “We need to go.” He was right, but Dick couldn’t seem to get his limbs to move. Something hot dripped down his face, and he realized he was crying. The tears scorched his already burning skin.

“I love her,” he whispered, barely aware that he had done so. “I know,” Batman said, and knelt in front of him. “We all do,” Bruce said calmly. He gently pushed Dick to sit up, and took Bess from him. Dick let him, leaning back and putting his hands in his hair. He felt like something in him had broken, and now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he couldn’t seem to pull it together. His breathing sped up, and his heart felt like it was trying to jump out of his chest.

“Need a hand?” A new voice asked, and Dick whirled around, bracing his hand against the ground. That boy, what was his name?

“Tim,” Batman answered his subconscious question. “Yes, we could use your help.”

“Shit,” Tim had a mildly horrified look on his face. “What happened?”

“We’ll discuss that later. Will you help Nightwing? He’s in shock.”

Dick tried to protest, but found that he could only open and close his eyes. Tim crouched next to him, and Dick felt like his breath was stolen right out of his lungs. Tim took his arm, his expression unreadable, and pulled Dick to his feet. “Come on, Dick,” Tim muttered quietly, “let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Text

“So this is the Batcave?” Tim Drake asked, looking around in wonder. Bruce nodded. He had been somewhat reluctant to bring Tim back to the cave, but the kid refused to be left behind at the foundry, and to be honest, Bruce could use the help. Nightwing had yet to speak a word, with nasty burns on his face where his suit didn’t protect him, and Bess was still unconscious.

Bruce took a deep breath. He’d been dodging this kid for months, even after Tim revealed that he knew Batman’s secret identity. He knew all of their identities, and thought Bruce doubted that Tim would out them, he could never be too careful. Perhaps it was best to keep Tim nearby, where he could keep an eye on the boy.

After an hour of Alfred’s efforts, Bess had been stabilized, and had even been able to drink some water. Dick refused to leave her side, but at least he was out of shock. Weighted blankets did wonder, as did Alfred. Dick had a thick paste smeared on his face for the burns. Some days, it seemed like there wasn’t a thing in the world that Alfred couldn’t fix.

“Woah,” Tim’s voice drew Bruce out of his thoughts. The boy was standing in front of the main Batcomputer, playing with the keyboard. It would seem that Bruce’s failsafes had failed to keep the boy out, and he was currently perusing the crime files of Clayface. Bruce’s scowl deepened.

“You’ll get wrinkles frowning like that,” Tim chastised him without looking back. Bruce took a deep breath, and approached Tim. “Tim,” he began. Tim turned to face him, looking ecstatic. “You have case files on pretty much everyone in Gotham!” He exclaimed. “Is that even legal?”

Bruce resisted the urge to scowl more. Instead, he put his hand together, swallowed his pride, and said, “I want to thank you. Without your tipoff, we may not have found Bess in time.” Guilt pressed at his mind, but he pushed it back down. Now was not the time.

Tim’s face turned serious for a moment. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more,” he said quietly. Bruce shook his head. “If you had, you might have ended up like her., or like Dick.”

“How is she?” Tim asked quietly. His hands flexed at his side. “She’s stable; Alfred believes she’ll make a full recovery.” Bruce answered. 

Tim snorted. “As much as she can, anyway. Her metagene activated, right? There’s no coming back from that.”

“It’s hardly the first meta I’ve helped,” Bruce said. “With time, she’ll learn to control it.”

Tim nodded, and the cave fell quiet, with the sound of running water being the only noise. After a moment, Tim’s smile returned. “So, does this mean you’ll let me join you now?”

Bruce couldn’t stop his scowl that time. “I’ve told you-”

“I saved your daughter, Bruce. There’s someone else’s daughter out there that won’t be so lucky, unless I have the tools and training to help.” Tim’s eyebrows furrowed. “Besides, you owe me now.”

Damn, the kid was quick. Bruce let out a heavy sigh. “What about your parents? I doubt they’d approve.”

Tim put his hands on his hips and let out a clearly forced laugh. “I doubt they’d even notice if I didn’t tell them, but believe me, even if they know, they won’t care.”

Bruce crossed his arms. “I won’t deceive them intentionally, Tim. Either they’re in, or you’re out.”

Tim threw his hands up. “I’ll tell them!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The next time I see them, anyway. Who knows when that will be?”

Bruce knew the kid would keep hounding them if he told him no. Besides, Tim was right. He had saved Bess. He wanted to save more people. Who was Bruce to stop him? The best he could do was give the kid a fighting chance.

Still, Bruce couldn’t escape the guilt. It had only been a few months since Jason had vanished without a trace, and weeks since they’d buried him. Could he stomach replacing Robin so soon?

“Fine. Training starts tomorrow.” Bruce finally said.

Tim let out a triumphant holler and pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! I won’t let you down!”

Bruce felt something tingling up his spine, and turned around. Dick was glaring daggers at him. The young man stood, approaching him, and growled in a low voice, “we need to talk.” Bruce felt his stomach clench, but he did not outwardly react, just waited for Dick to speak.

“Alone.” Dick clarified, jerking his head towards the entrance of the Batcave. Bruce nodded once, then turned his back, walking purposefully towards the opening. He could hear Dick’s footsteps behind him, heavy against the metal grating. Dick was pissed, that much was clear.

The night air carried a chill, despite it being summer. The edges of the horizon were gradually fading from orange to blue. It reminded Bruce of how odd it was, for the day’s events to have happened in broad daylight.

Two-Face was getting bold. Going after Batman was one thing, but Bruce Wayne? Clearly, this was about more than revenge against a child for crimes long passed. It was also relatively out of character for Two-Face, to do something so horrendous. And to be working with Scare-Crow and Clayface? Who was really pulling the strings? What would their next move be?

It became clear, as he thought about it, that Bess was no longer safe in Gotham.

“Dick,” Bruce began, turning around. “I need a favor.”

Dick’s nose wrinkled in open disgust. “Do you really think now is the time to be asking favors? Bess could have died today.” His voice was deadly calm. Bruce took in a quiet breath, and said, “Bess isn’t safe here.”

“You think?” Dick crossed his arms. Every muscle in his body was tense. Bruce kept his body language loose and open. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dick cut him off. “You just can’t help yourself,” the young man sneered. “First Jason, now Bess, and you want to turn another kid into a weapon? Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Dick’s fingers dug into the fabric of his suit.

“Tim proved his worth today,” Bruce explained.

“Shut the fuck up, Bruce,” Dick growled, his shoulders squeezing towards his ears. “You can’t really think that I’ll go along with this? Tim is a child!”

“He’s almost fifteen,” Bruce began, “older than you were.”

“Fifteen is still childhood, Bruce! How can you not see that?! He’s a boy who’s been dazzled by the hero's life; he has no idea what he’s signing up for!” Dick shouted. His arms dropped to his side, his fists clenched so tight that the leather of his gloves groaned. “It’s been two weeks since we buried Jason,” Dick continued, “and you’re already putting another child in his place. When are you going to fucking learn?!” Dick took a step towards him, and Bruce saw the punch coming before Dick even raised his arm. Bruce easily sidestepped, and Dick stumbled forward.

“Dick,” Bruce tried to say, but Dick whirled on him. “No!” Dick shouted, “you don’t get to act like you’re still the good guy! You’re not the voice of reason here! You’re turning children into soldiers and sending them to their deaths!”

“What happened to Bess has nothing to do with Goose,” Bruce said calmly. Dick took another step towards him.

“Bess and Goose are the same person.” Dick said.

“Yes, but it wasn’t Goose that was targeted. This was an attack on Bruce Wayne, not Batman. Someone higher is pulling the strings.”

Dick threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Fuck, Bruce, turn off the detective for ten seconds and act like a fucking father!”

“I can’t.” Bruce admitted, before he realized the words were even spoken. Dick raised an eyebrow, and Bruce let out an audible sigh. “I can’t,” he explained, “because I don’t know how. Jason’s death…”

“You’re not fit to speak his name,” Dick growled.

“And you are?” Bruce asked plainly. Dick seemed surprised.

“You had no interest in Jason, even when he practically begged you. I understand, you felt like I replaced you, and you-”

“Took it out on him,” Dick finished. His fists loosened, and his head hung a bit. “I know that, and I know he didn’t deserve it. But I wasn’t the one who turned him into Robin in the first place.”

Bruce nodded. “I know you don’t agree with my decisions, but trust me on this. If I don’t train Tim, he’ll try to train himself, and he’ll put himself in real danger.”

“You’re putting him in real danger,” Dick muttered, but all the fire was gone from his voice.

“I need your help, Dick,” Bruce took a step forward. “Bess isn’t safe here. I need you to take her to Bludhaven; I know she’ll be safe with you. I need your help with Tim. I don’t want him to turn into Jason, into me. I want him to turn out like you.”

Dick looked up at him. His expression was difficult to read. He said, “what do I do if she… if her meta powers activate? I live in an apartment, Bruce, not a manor, not a big ass cave. If she sets my building on fire, I’m screwed.”

“Meta genes are activated as a response to distress. As long as she doesn’t end up in intense pain or stress, she should be fine.” Bruce answered. He couldn’t be sure, but he believed that Bess’s powers wouldn’t be a problem, so long as she was safe.

They stared at each other for a long time, until the birds stopped singing in the distance, and the sun was gone.

“Alright.” Dick said finally. “Fine. I’ll help. But don’t think this means I’ll forgive you.”

Bruce cracked a slight smile and said, “Dick, the day you forgive me, hell will freeze over.”

Dick didn’t seem to appreciate the humor. He shoved past Bruce and headed back into the Batcave. Bruce stayed out for a moment, gazing up at the twinkling stars that were bright enough to shine over Gotham. He looked out over the Gotham skyline, feeling the weight of the city on his shoulders.

Dick was right. How many more children would pay for Gotham’s sins in blood?

Chapter Text

The car ride to Bludhaven was silent until the city was in view. Dick had been searching for something, anything, to say that would ease the tension, but nothing sounded remotely decent in his head.

When Bruce had told Bess that he was sending her away, Dick thought she might have tried to kill him. It was a few days after the incident had happened. She had recovered quickly, as had Dick, thanks to Alfred’s care. His face still hurt if he smiled too hard, but it was much better.

They’d all gathered for dinner together, with Tim joining them. After dinner, Bruce told her.

She’d made no effort to hide her fury, but as Bruce explained that she wasn’t safe in Gotham, and it was just until he had caught the culprits of her kidnapping, she seemed to come to an understanding.

She still hadn’t been pleased, but she’d agreed.

Then there was Tim. Once Dick had gotten over his initial feelings, and spent a few hours with the kid, it was clear that him being the next Robin was a pretty good choice. Tim was brilliant, driven, and though he had some odd habits, Dick liked him. Bess seemed to like him too, and they’d spent that dinner chatting about biomechanics of plants, of all things.

After all was said and done, Alfred had sent them off, Bess’s bags packed, towards Bludhaven. Dick figured that he’d be making this trip back and forth quite a bit in the coming months. Hopefully, Bess would be able to go with him.

“Hey,” Bess’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “Yeah?” He asked, glancing over briefly at her. The streetlights illuminated her face in dancing shadows. She was staring out the windshield.

“It’s not that I don’t want to live with you,” she began, “I just don’t like being kicked out.”

Just like her to think of my feelings, he thought, even with the trauma she’s just been through.

“Nah, I understand,” he said. “He’s not kicking you out, you know. It’s just-”

“For my safety, I know.” Bess huffed, irritated. “But damn, he could at least act kind of upset about it.”

“He is upset,” Dick said, trying to comfort her. “You know how he is. He has a bad emotion and he just shuts down, you know? He doesn’t know how to do anything else.”

“Yeah.” She turned to look out the window, then added, “I feel bad for Tim, being stuck with him.”

Dick shrugged, “I think Tim can hold his own.”

“Barbara’s going to be pissed. She’s spent the past few months trying to get rid of Tim, and now Bruce is taking him on?” She shot him a sly smile. “I wish I could be a fly on that wall. Bless his heart, she’s gonna tear him a new one.”

Dick smiled at the thought. “Good luck, Bruce,” he said. “Oh, look, here it is. Home sweet home. 1013 Parkthorne Avenue. 3A is my apartment, 3B is my base of operations. Now the building doesn’t have an elevator, and I live on the third floor. I also only have one bed, so just for a few nights, you can sleep on the couch. I’ll work on getting you a mattress or something.”

“Sounds good,” Bess said as she got out of the car. “Fuck, it’s been a rough few days.”

“No kidding,” Dick said, then asked, “how are you holding up?”

Her face fell for a moment. “Honestly? Not well. I mean, this has been one of the worst weeks of my life. Do you think, once we’re inside, we could talk about it? I need to vent, if I’m being honest.”

“Of course,” Dick responded. He did his best to hide how happy it made him, that she trusted him enough to want to vent to him. He hoped he deserved it. “Anything you need, I’m here.”

“Thanks Dick,” she smiled at him, then circled around to the trunk of the car. She popped it open, then slung her duffel bag over her shoulder. She had a briefly surprised look on her face. Dick raised an eyebrow in question.

“Oh, nothing,” she said quickly. He didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push the issue. He punched in the door code and held the door open for her. He followed her up the stairs. He unlocked his apartment door and gestured grandly, “home sweet home! Mi casa es su casa.”

“Wow,” Bess said, trying and failing to hide how unimpressed she was. “Looks like a classic bachelor pad.” Dick laughed lightly, “yeah, I’m a simple man. Here’s the couch, there’s the kitchen, and the bathroom is back in my room, which is past the kitchen.”

Bess dropped her duffel with a thud. “Thanks, Dick,” she said quietly. “I appreciate it.” She slumped down on the couch, letting out a heavy sigh.

Dick sat softly next to her, trying not to jostle the couch. “You still want to talk?” He asked.

Bess put her face in her hands, and it was like the floodgates burst. “I was so scared!” She sobbed. Dick’s heart squeezed. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him. His other hand rubbed her arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“I was so scared,” she managed between sobbing breaths. “It hurt so much, and I survive that hell and I get home and Bruce doesn’t want me anymore!” She threw her arms around his waist and cried into his shoulder.

“Oh, Bess, he does want you. Bruce loves you. It’s not safe for you in Gotham; they might try again.” Dick rocked her gently. “I know that,” she sniffled, “but I can't help but feel like this. I’m so tired of feeling alone! Everything has been so hard since Jason, I feel like I’m falling apart! I can’t even sleep anymore, and now this has happened, and I feel like I’m always in danger.”

“You know,” Dick began, “he kicked me out too.”

Bess paused and looked up at him, sniffling once or twice. “He did?”

“Yeah.” Dick let out a brief sigh. “He fired me. It’s why I left, why I became Nightwing.” When Bess gave him a slight nod, he went on.

Damn, he hated talking about this.

“I got shot in the shoulder during a mission. I was maybe seventeen? Anyway, he freaked, and told me I couldn’t be Robin anymore. He didn’t kick me out, but I felt like I didn’t have a place there anymore, so I came here,” he gestured towards the window, “to Bludhaven. I became Nightwing. I realized that…”

He paused, staring off into space. Bess nudged him and asked, “what?”

“I don’t need him anymore.” Dick admitted.

When he finally looked down at Bess, she was gazing at him with open admiration. It made his ears heat up. He cleared his throat and shrugged off the tension. “Well,” he said,  thinking quickly. “You wanna know how I found out I’d been replaced?” He looked up at the ceiling. “The newspaper. I found out by the fucking newspaper.”

“I’m sorry, Dick, that’s not fair,” Bess told him. Dick shrugged. “It’s old news. Besides, you’re the one supposed to be venting, not me. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She rested her head on his collar bone. Her hair tickled his neck. “I think you’re right,” she said quietly. “We… don’t need him.”

Shit.

“No, Bess, that’s not what I-” he began. She shook her head, and let go of him. He felt cold. She sat back against the arm of the couch, holding one knee to her chest. “I know what you meant, Dick. But you’re right. Bruce gave us our start, and he’s been wonderful to me, more than I could have hoped for. I love him, he is a dad to me. But…” She turned to look at the window. “Everything has changed. I can’t rely on him anymore.” The fine lines of her face hardened.

Dick didn’t know what to say. He wanted to fix this, but some things can’t be fixed. He racked his mind for a way to comfort her beyond meaningless reassurances, to take back the change he just witnessed. Still, maybe it was for the best. If Bess wanted to become more independent, who was he to stop her?

Looking at her, she looked so alone. Her shoulders sagged, and she chewed her nails absently.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” He asked. “I know you and Jason used to sleep together. Do you think it would help, sleeping next to someone?”

Bess nodded, turning her gaze back to him. “You wouldn’t mind?” She asked.

“Of course not,” Dick reassured her. “Besides, this couch sucks anyway. It was free, what can I say?”

Bess laughed at that, hiding her smile behind her hand.

She has a nice smile, Dick thought. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. This was confusing. He liked Bess, he always had, but something changed, when he found her in the foundry. Something shifted, in the way that he saw her. She was strong, she was gentle, she was smart, she was amazing, beautiful , her slight accent made his heart skip a beat, she-

He mentally paused, changing that train of thought. She was barely 18. She’d just been through several incredibly traumatic events. Her boyfriend, her first love, was dead. She’d only just buried him. She didn’t need him to be trying to work out his emotions. She needed him to be steady, someone she could rely on.

She needed him to be a brother.

So he put those strange new feelings away. “Come on,” he said, standing up. “It’s been a long day.”

“You can say that again,” she smiled up at him. “Thanks, Dick, for letting me stay here.”

“Of course, Bess. Anything to keep you safe.”

Chapter Text

“Alright, Nightwing, I’m in position,” Bess said quietly over the radio. She perched comfortably on a warehouse crossbeam, watching the empty space below. “Copy that,” Nightwing’s voice crackled in her ear. “No sign of the van yet,” he said, “but I’ll keep you updated.”

It was her first mission since she’d moved in with Dick. She’d been there for a couple of months now, and she was ready to get back into action. Nightwing had seemed apprehensive, when she’d asked him, but he didn’t tell her no. He just said to be careful, and let him know if she felt any surge of her meta powers.

Those powers hadn’t shown up since she’d first gotten them. If she was lucky, they wouldn’t show up again. She knew she wouldn't be that lucky, but it was a nice thought. She barely remembered that day in the foundry, but she had no desire to relive it.

“They’re here,” Nightwing said in her ear. “As soon as the van is parked, move in. We need to get to those hostages before they’re unloaded.”

“Copy that,” Bess replied, watching the van roll through the bay doors. Nightwing swung in behind, grappling up to a beam across from her. He mouthed something to her. 'Duck Duck.' Bess cracked a smile and mouthed back, 'Goose.' They nodded to each other, and dove in sync as soon as the van’s engines cut.

Nightwing went for the driver. Bess caught the passenger door before it opened, and reached through the open window, dragging the masked man out through it. They all wore the masks of Deathstroke’s goons. Nightwing had been tracking a human trafficking operation for a while now, and his feud with the assassin was long-standing. However, this was a rescue mission. Their goal was to release the hostages in the van.

Bess slammed the man into the ground. More men jumped out of the back of the truck, aiming pistols at her. She moved quickly, diving around the hood of the van as they fired at her. She tossed a flash bang over the hood at them, and closed her eyes when it went off.

She had seconds before they recovered. She moved in, heading for the man nearest to her. She grabbed him by the collar of his body armor. She raised her fist, and put all her strength into the punch. As her fist connected, she was struck by a vivid memory.

“My fist went through the dummy’s chest!” Bess protested. “Of course my knuckle is going to bleed!”

“You need to control your strikes,” Bruce responded, his gaze sharp. “Your strength will not matter if your technique is poor. If you do that to someone not wearing body armor, you might kill them, and that is not acceptable.”

Her fist broke through. Through the armor, through the sternum with a sickening crunch, through the soft organs and hard cartilage underneath, and through the spine on the other side, and out the back with a squelching noise. Blood sprayed out onto the white paint of the van.

It was effortless.

Everything fell silent.

Bess stared at the mess of gore her arm had vanished into, shocked. Her mouth dropped open. The man coughed, a wet sound, and clawed at her arm frantically. Bess yanked her arm out, causing the body to spasm. She dropped him. He hit the ground with a thud, slumped against the van's tire. He looked up at her. A wet cough erupted from his chest, then ceased. She could see the fear in his eyes behind the mask.

They were a beautiful shade of green.

The eyes glazed over, and the man's head slumped forward. He did not move again.

Bess was aware of the fighting behind her resuming, but she couldn’t bring herself to pay attention. She stared down at the corpse, then slowly raised her hand. Her glove was soaked in blood, with chunks of gore sliding slowly down the leather. Her hand began to tremble.

She dropped to her knees, sucking in a breath. She felt nauseous. She reached out with the bloody hand, trembling, and touched the edge of the mask. She lifted it up, leaving a bloody smear on the chin. She looked at the face of the man she killed.

He was young, no older than Jason was when she buried him. Blood trickled from his mouth in a bright red streak across a pale face. His eyes still carried the hint of terror, staring blankly. His mouth gaped open, as if he was shocked. What was left of his chest was stained from the blood pouring out of the gaping hole in his chest. She could see fragments of his ribs poking out.

“No,” she whispered. The fighting behind her ceased. She barely noticed until a firm hand squeezed her shoulder. Nightwing’s voice seemed distant, like he was talking through a pillow. “Shit, what happened?” He asked. She turned to look at him, her mouth opening and closing. “It w-was an-an accident,” she finally managed. “I swear, I didn’t mean to! He was wearing body armor!” Her voice rose as she became hysterical. “I didn’t mean to! Fuck!” Her eyes turned back to the corpse. Her chest felt tight, like she couldn't get air. Hot tears ran down her cheeks. 

“Hey,” Nightwing knelt next to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her away from the body. “Look at me.” He ordered. She fell silent. His jaw was tense, but he didn’t look angry.

He looked scared.

“We need to go,” he said, his voice trembling.

“I can’t just leave him here!” Bess protested. “I have to stop the bleeding!” She tried pushing past him to get to the body.

“He’s dead,” Nightwing gave her shoulders a firm shake. “Snap out of it, Goose, we need to leave now. ” Bess was vaguely aware of sirens in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. When she didn’t move, he picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder. She didn’t stop him. He ran out of the bay doors, grappling across the street to the roof of the next building over. He set her down next to an AC unit.

“On your feet,” he told her, “we need to get out of here. The police will get the victims out of the van. We need to be gone before they get here.” She got up and followed him numbly, hardly aware of the journey away from the scene. They made it back to the apartment, not all that far, where she stood inside the window, watching him peel off his gloves with a blank stare.

He looked over at her after removing his mask. He looked worried. “Bess,” he said softly, approaching her. She shook her head rapidly, feeling a creeping sense of horror and dread crawl up her spine. “What have I done?” She whispered.

“It was an accident,” he said softly. “Come on, we need to get rid of that glove.”

Bess looked down at her hand. The blood was starting to dry, cracking in sharp patterns over the leather as she flexed it. It seemed to taunt her. She could hear it whispering.

Murderer.

Bess slapped her other hand over her mouth, muffling the scream that tore out of her lungs against her will. She fell to her knees, staring at her bloody glove, unable to tear her gaze away. She felt like she was choking. “What have I done?” She asked again, unable to hear any answer over the pounding of her heart in her ears, like war drums.

It felt like her very soul was crumbling.

Murderer.

“No!” She shrieked, trying to scramble away from her own hand. Her back hit the wall under the window. "It was an accident!" She pleaded, but no one could fix what had been done. A pair of hands touched the bottom of her glove. Dick pulled the glove off of her hand. She was aware that he was talking to her, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying. Her chest was heaving; she felt like she was drowning. She stared at him with wide-eyed horror, watching his mouth move. His eyes darted up to hers, then back down at her hand. He set the glove aside, then held her hand. His hands were ice cold. His eyes widened, and he looked up at her sharply.

He looked scared again.

“Bess,” she could see his lips say, but she couldn’t hear him. Her heart pounded, the pressure in her ears building to a roar. Murderer, she heard with every beat. Murderer! It was a never-ending accusatory chant in her ear. Murderer.

Cold hands pressed against her cheeks. The room seemed to get dark. Dick jumped back, looking pained as he cradled his hands to his chest. Bess blinked, surprised, then realized what was happening. She looked down at her hands, which were beginning to glow like hot coals. Dick looked terrified.

She took a deep breath. Murderer. She had to calm down. Murderer. She closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears, but it didn’t help. Murderer, murderer, murderer! She had to do something.

She thought of her mother’s voice. A soft lullaby began to replace the angry whispers. “Sail, baby, sail,” she heard her mother sing. “Put upon that sea.” She took in a deep, trembling breath of freezing air. “Only don’t forget to sail,” she heard, and she realized it wasn’t her mother singing. “Back again to me.” It was her own voice that broke through the haze.

She didn't remember what her mother sounded like. Her own voice would have to do.

She continued to sing the lullaby, focusing on the memory of what her mother smelled like. What she looked like. The texture of the cotton dresses she wore. The memory of being rocked in her arms. The slight pain as her mother pulled her hair into tight braids. The clack of the colorful beads in her hair. The booming laughter of her father. The tingling of cream soda on her tongue. The sound of birds singing in the trees. What a jar full of fireflies looked like. The smell of a bonfire.

When Bess opened her eyes, she was calm. Well, as calm as she could be, given the situation. She looked up at Dick, who was on his knees in front of her, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were white. He looked like he was begging. No, he looked like he was praying. His eyes met hers, and relief flooded his face.

“Dick?” She asked quietly. “Can we go camping?

Chapter Text

“Hey, Babs.” Dick pressed a kiss to Barbara’s forehead. “You have a minute?”

“I’ve always got time for you, Dick,” Barbara said, looking up at her boyfriend. He’d come to visit her in the clock tower, the day after Bess had quit. “Is it about Bess?”

“Yes,” Dick said. His body language was tense. He was uncomfortable. Barbara gestured towards a chair. Light filtered in through the windows of the clock tower, dancing off his dark hair. Barbara smiled at the sight.

“So are you going to tell me why she quit? You didn’t say much in the text you sent,” Barbara prodded. Dick ran his fingers through his hair and settled the hand on the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “You can’t tell Bruce,” he said quietly.

“Damn, that bad?” She leaned back in her wheelchair and adjusted her glasses.

Dick nodded.

“You have my word.” She said, taking him seriously. “Now tell me what’s going on?”

Dick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She killed a man, Babs.” At Barbara’s gasp, he held his hands up defensively. “It was an accident,” he said, “one of her new powers is super strength, and we didn’t know it. Well, she had her suspicions, but we didn’t know the extent of it. She went in for a punch, and her fist went through the guy’s chest. All the way through. She’s not taking it well, Babs. Fuck, it was really bad. She… She almost lost control, she just about set my apartment on fire. I couldn’t do anything to help her. I feel like I failed her. I should have tested the extent of her powers before I let her come out with me. I should have noticed. I should have seen this coming.”

Barbara closed her eyes for a moment, and said quietly, “you can’t blame yourself, Dick. As you said, it was an accident. Though, I can see why you don’t want Bruce to know.”

Dick nodded, his eyebrows pinching together. “Yeah. I don’t think he’d take it well, either.”

“Do you think she’ll really quit?” Barbara asked.

“I don’t know,” Dick admitted. “She’s always been driven, but between this and everything else, she’s really shaken up. She needs a break, at the very least.”

“I’m glad she has you,” Barbara told him, hoping to comfort him. He gave her a half smile, then stared at the floor. “Yeah, she does,” he said, then added a quiet “fuck.”

Barbara raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” She asked, though she suspected she knew the answer. She’d been waiting for this conversation to happen, ever since the incident at the foundry. He couldn’t hide anything from her.

“I love her,” Dick admitted with a shrug. He leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “I love her like I love you,” he said after a brief pause. Barbara nodded, “I thought so.” Dick looked at her, surprised. “You knew?”

“Probably before you did, Dick.” Barbara leaned forward and put a hand on his knee. “Let me level with you,” she said, holding his gaze. He nodded silently.

“We’ve had an open relationship for a while now,” she explained, “so normally, I wouldn’t mind this, but I think it’s a bad idea for you to act on that feeling. She’s vulnerable right now; she needs a brother, not a lover. Besides, she’s a bit young at the moment.”

Dick nodded in agreement. “I know. I’ve thought about it, and I came to the same conclusion. It’s just hard, living together, being so close to her, and having to keep away like this.” He smiled slightly. “I’m glad you understand.”

Barbara gave him a warm smile. “Of course I understand. If I’m honest, I understand a bit more than I should.”

Dick blinked at her.

Barbara sighed and leaned back. “We spent a lot of time together, after Jason’s funeral,” she said. It felt like a confession. She supposed, in a way, it was. “She’s amazing, she’s driven, and she’s so sweet to me. It’s hard not to have a crush on someone like that. Did you know she wants to go to college for biotechnology? She told me she wanted to help me walk again. She would sit in that chair," Barbara gestured towards the chair he was in, "and read these huge textbooks for hours. She'd talk to me about these theories on how to help me walk. We'd stay up together, talking about all the shit that's happened to us, and how it was going to get better from here. I never felt alone, or like I was less than I used to be, when she was around.” Barbara hung her head. “I don’t want her to quit, Dick. She loves the life, and she’s good. She’s not the detective that Bruce is, but she fights like she was born to it.”

“No kidding,” Dick agreed.

Barbara smiled and went on. “Believe me when I say that I get it, but it would be wrong to make a move on her now, when she needs us to be family.”

Dick let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right, Babs.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m always right,” Barbara said teasingly. Dick laughed and leaned forward, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said.

“You would be a mess without me,” Barbara teased. Dick laughed, the tension leaving his shoulders. He let go of her face. Then he looked thoughtful. “Hey, Babs, do you want to go camping?”

“Camping?”

“Yeah,” he clarified, “Bess said she wants to go camping. I think it’s a good idea. Do you want to go with us?”

“Fuck no,” Barbara said with a laugh. “I never enjoyed camping. But you should take Tim. He’s been dying to spend more time with you and Bess.”

“Really?” Dick looked surprised.

“Oh yes,” Barbara said. “He really looks up to you two. I’m sure Bruce would let him out of training for something like this. Take him with you.”

Dick nodded slowly. “That’s a really good idea, Babs. Thanks.” He grinned. He looked much better than he had at the start of their conversation.

“Any time,” Barbara said with a smile, and pulled him in for a kiss.

Chapter Text

Dick woke to the smell of bacon. It did wonders to get him out of bed. He could hear the glorious sizzling, accompanied by Shawn Mendes’s voice, and Bess’s. Dick sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Bess was singing along to the music blasting out of the speaker, “oh I’ve been shakin, I love it when you go crazy!”

It made him grin like an idiot.

He rolled out of bed, stretching in the sunlight that was pouring in the window. She left the curtains open again, he thought. He didn’t mind. Not wanting to interrupt the concert in the kitchen, he crept to the doorway and leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his bare chest, watching.

Bess was dancing while she sang. She was wearing blue pajama shorts, and one of his shirts. It hung loosely over her body, almost covering her shorts completely. She bounced back and forth, using the fork she was holding as a microphone. Her hair bounced with her, flat on one side where she’d slept on it.

In her other hand, she had a pan. In one fluid movement, the pancake inside flipped over, perfectly golden brown on top. She put the pan back on the stove and leaned back, belting out the song into the fork.

Damn, she’s beautiful.

Dick shoved the thought away, feeling a twinge of guilt. He let a playful feeling take over him instead. He jumped up on the counter opposite the stove, snatching up a wooden spoon from the jar nearby, and joined in the singing. “You take me places that tear up my reputation!”

Bess shrieked, whirling around, a blush of embarrassment spread across her face. She threw a tea towel at him. Dick caught it and kept singing, “Manipulate my decisions, baby there’s nothing holding me back!”

A grin spread across Bess’s face, and she joined in once again. They belted out the rest of the song together, with him dancing on the counter and her jumping around the kitchen. He whirled the tea towel around over his head. When the song was over, Bess’s singing devolved into delighted giggles.

Dick jumped down from the counter. “Hey, I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said. Bess looked at him expectantly. “Just a second, don’t let that bacon burn,” he said, pointing at the frying pan, then slipped past her, back into the bedroom. He pulled his phone off the charger and flipped through apps until he got to his email. “There it is!” He exclaimed, running to show her.

Reservation accepted: Chestnut Hollow Campground, was the subject line. He ran back and shoved his phone in Bess’s face, grinning.

Bess took a moment to read it, then gasped. “No way!” She shouted. “When?”

“This weekend,” Dick told her proudly. “Tim’s coming with us. I invited Barbara, but she said, and I quote, ‘fuck no.’ So it’ll be us three.”

She jumped at him, throwing her arms around his neck. He caught her and spun her around. “Thank you, Dick!” She said, sounding emotional. “You can thank me by giving me some bacon,” he teased. She rolled her eyes and let go of him, reaching for a plate. She gave him a few pieces of bacon: not too crispy, not too soft. “Just right,” he mumbled as he shoved some into his mouth.

“No manners!” She scolded him. “Here, have a pancake.” She slid the hot cake onto his plate directly from the pan. He got the syrup out of the fridge. “We’ll leave on Friday,” he said as he spread butter across his pancake. “We’ll come back on Monday. I figured we could go hiking while we’re there.”

“Sounds great! That’s near Grayson Highlands, right?” She shot him a humorous look. “Did you pick there on purpose?”

“Of course I did!” Dick said with a grin. “They have wild ponies there! Technically, those are my ponies. My name, my ponies.”

Bess’s laugh was loud, more of a cackle, really. He loved it.

Dick sat on the couch, balancing his place on his lap as he cut into his pancake. Bess perched on the arm, bracing her feet on the cushion.

“Hey Bess,” he began once he had finished his breakfast. “How are you holding up?” It had been about a week since she’d… discovered her strength. Bess was good at acting like she was fine, but he knew her well enough at this point to know that she was struggling.

“Honestly?” She slid down to sit next to him. Their knees touched. “I’m having a hard time.” She admitted. “It’s been tough, but I’ve been trying not to think about it.” She took his plate from him and got up, carrying it to the kitchen. “I keep seeing his face,” she said, her back to him. “I relive that moment when I dream. But its getting better.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “It’s just another form of grief, you know?”

Dick’s heart ached for her. He stood up and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “I get it,” he mumbled, resting his forehead on the back of her head. “I’m here for you.”

She leaned back into him, putting her hands on his arm. “I know you are. Honestly, Dick, I’m so lucky to have you around. You’ve been good to me.”

His heart soared. “Thanks,” he said. “But you won't be saying that after this.”

“After what?” She asked, then screeched as he lifted her off the ground. “Put me down!” She demanded.

“Grayson goes for the grapple!” He said in his best pro-wrestling announcer voice. “Oh no, he’s going for the suplex!” He shouted as he hauled her towards his room. She laughed and begged him to stop. He turned around and tossed her over his head, letting out a dramatic war cry. She landed on the bed and bounced a few times, laughing helplessly.

“But Bessie Brown isn’t one to be put to bed so easily!” Bess used her own announcer voice and got to her knees, her arms out. “Oh, here she goes for a retaliatory strike!” She dove forward and wrapped her arms around his knees. She easily lifted him and tossed him back. He landed on his chest with an ‘oof!’

Bess laughed, scrambling off the bed to run from him. He gave chase, circling around the couch, then diving over the kitchen counter when she tried to put it between them. She bolted away, laughing helplessly. “Just because you’re strong,” he called after her, “doesn’t mean you can outmaneuver a Flying Grayson!”

It wasn’t long before he caught her, wrapping an arm around her neck and putting her in a loose chokehold. “Give it up, Bessie Brown,” he demanded humorously. “I’ve got you now!”

She dropped her weight, but held on to him, and he went down with her. She rolled forward, so that he was flipped over her shoulders. She pinned him down, straddling his waist. She held his wrists on either side of his head.

Time froze. He looked up at her, with the sun in her hair, her face flushed from exertion. She was panting softly, and she was close enough he could feel her breath on his face. Her smile was radiant.

He could feel his ears burning, and the heat spreading across his face. “You got me,” he managed, trying to play it cool. Her eyes darted over his face, then down at his bare chest, before meeting his gaze. The corner of her mouth twitched, and she leaned forward slightly. Her expression was downright sultry. Dick felt his breath catch in his throat. She leaned down until her face was inches from his.

Something in her expression changed, and she released him, jumping to her feet. “Sorry,” she squeaked, taking a few stumbling steps backward. “I’m sorry, I-” she turned away. “I’m going to take a shower. Mind getting the dishwasher loaded?” She didn’t look at him, and retreated to the bathroom.

What just happened? He asked himself, sitting up. “Yeah, no problem!” He called after her, but he doubted she heard over the running water and the screaming of the old pipes. He ran his hands through his hair, letting out a breath through his teeth. He couldn’t help but to smile. Despite whatever had just happened, he loved being playful with Bess.

Wait, he thought, was she about to- he stopped himself, shaking his head, as if that would dismiss the thought. No, he told himself. I must have misunderstood. He stared at the doorway where she had vanished for a moment.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself. “Well, I’d better start the dishes.” He dragged himself into the kitchen.

He found that he couldn’t get his heart to stop racing.

Chapter Text

The first deep breath of fresh mountain air heals the soul.

Bess stood gazing up at the canopy of trees, with late afternoon light trickling through like liquid sunshine, leaving yellow and green splotches on the ground below. A warm breeze blew past, kissing her cheeks as it went. The sound of a woodpecker in the distance was almost drowned out by birdsong.

“What a beautiful day to go camping!” Dick exclaimed, hopping out of the car. He spun around a few times, his arms out, taking in the forest. Tim crawled out of the back seat of the SUV, squinting up at the canopy above. “Wow,” the young man said, taking in the scenery around him.

“Just wait until we get up on Mount Rogers, the view will blow you away!” Bess said with a grin. “Now come on, let’s get the tent set up.”

Tim had brought Bruce’s large tent, big enough for six, plenty big enough for three. It took the three of them about five minutes to get it set up. Bright orange and green fabric ruffled in the wind.

“Here’s the plan,” Dick began, sitting at the picnic table on the campsite, after the rain fly was up. Bess and Tim sat across from him. “Tonight,” Dick said, “we’ll cook over the campfire. I brought some card games, smores, whatever we like. Tomorrow morning, we’ll head up to the trail head; I’m hoping to get there by ten. We’ll have lunch up on the mountain, and we’ll be back here in time for dinner.”

“I’m so excited!” Bess squealed, wriggling in her seat and clapping her hands. “I haven’t been camping since I was a kid!”

“Also!” Dick hopped out of his seat and ran to the car. He popped the trunk. “I brought my guitar!” He shouted, muffled by the car.

“This should be good,” Tim muttered, loud enough for Bess to hear. She snorted, putting her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Tim had a cheeky grin.

Dick tossed them each a sleeping bag, and ground pads to go under them. “Go pick your spots in the tent and get set up,” he told them.

“I call the middle!” Tim yelled, scrambling towards the tent. Bess laughed and asked, “why?”

“It’s the warmest spot!”

“Tim, it’s the middle of summer. It’s going to be fucking hot!” Bess tried to explain.

“Language,” Dick chided. “There are tender ears around.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dick,” Tim shouted from in the tent. “I’m not a baby!”

“Hey, Bess, can you heat this up for me?” Tim held out a tin mug towards her. They were sitting around the campfire, watching the sky gradually darken from orange to dark blue. Bess tilted her head. “What do you mean? Just put it next to the fire. Wait, is that coffee? At nine o’clock at night?”

“That’s not important,” Tim waved dismissively with his other hand. “I want to see your powers in action!”

Bess shifted uncomfortably in her camp chair. “I don’t know, Tim, I can’t really control it.”

“Sure you can,” his smile was bright, his eyes trained on her face. “I believe in you,” he said, then put the cup in her hand. “Just a little power, start small. You can do it.”

Bess looked to Dick, but he was busy prodding at the fire with a stick. He didn’t seem to be aware of their conversation. He tossed the stick in the fire pit and went towards the car, likely to retrieve his guitar.

She took a deep breath. “You can do this,” Tim encouraged, his hand on her shoulder. Bess swallowed, feeling a nervous chill up her spine. She began thinking about the power, paused, then shook her head quickly. “I can’t,” she said. “I just- I just can’t. I don’t know how to control it.”

Tim nodded at her. “You can do this,” he insisted. “Just try to focus it in your hand. It’s an emotional response, right? What do you think about when it happens?”

Bess looked towards the campfire. “I don’t remember the first time,” she said quietly. “The second time, it… wasn’t good. It was really bad.”

“I see,” Tim said. He continued, “maybe you can summon it another way? Try to associate it with a good feeling!”

He seemed so sincere, Bess almost believed him. “I’ll try,” she mumbled apprehensively.

“I’m right here,” he assured her, “and Dick brought the fire extinguisher, just in case his fire gets out of hand.” He said it like a joke. Bess smiled, despite herself. She said, “I can just imagine him ruining a perfectly good campsite because I set something on fire.”

Tim snorted, laughing quietly. “Yeah, or because he set a marshmallow on fire and overreacted. Now focus, Bess, you can do this.”

Bess looked at him, uncertain. He held her gaze steadily, with a slight smile on his face. He seemed so earnest.

Maybe she could make this work.

She looked down at the tin mug in her hand. She held it up, regarding it as if it were a specimen in a lab. She thought about the way her hands glowed the last time.

Murderer.

Bess dropped the mug with a gasp, splashing cold coffee on the gravel beneath them. Tim patted her shoulder and leaned down, picking it up again. He retrieved a thermos from the ground next to his chair and poured more coffee in the tin. He handed it to her. “Bess,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to be scared of this.”

“How would you know?” She asked, though the comment lacked vitriol.

“Because you are incredible!” Tim told her, throwing his hands up to emphasize the point. “You can do anything you put your mind to. You went toe to toe with Bane and walked away without any broken bones! You took down Killer Croc by yourself! You fight next to Batman, to Robin, to Nightwing, some of the greatest heroes ever! That was before you got super strength. You were dropped into boiling steel and walked out alive.”

She shot him a dark look. He put his hands up defensively. “All I’m saying is that’s amazing. You don't need to be scared of anything. You can do this, I just know you can. I believe in you.”

He was one hell of a kid.

“Fine,” she agreed, looking at the mug in her hand. “I’ll try again.”

“Instead of something that upsets you,” Tim suggested, “think of something that excites you. If it’s an adrenaline response, it doesn’t have to be caused by fear.”

It was something to consider, but what could excite her enough to get her heart pounding like it did when she was scared? She let her eyes and mind wander, her lips pursed with thought, then stopped. Her gaze landed on Dick, who was walking back towards them with a guitar case slung over his shoulder. The firelight danced on his face, which had a lazy smile on it. His eyes glittered with the flame. The shirt he wore was tight, and left little to the imagination.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Her fingers grasped the mug tightly. She watched Dick walk back towards them, then sit down on the picnic table bench. He held the case in his lap, flipping open the clasps. His jawline was accentuated by the lowlight. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back off his forehead.

She could feel her ears heat up, and her heart felt like it would jump out of her chest. Doing her best to focus, she tried pushing that hot feeling towards her arm. It felt like a ball in her gut, and trying to get it to move was like herding a cat. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on it.

The morning sun bounces off of his bare chest. His mouth is slightly open, panting for breath. My fingers wrap around his wrists, holding them firmly to the floor. I can feel the crest of his hips digging into my thigh. His smile is mischievous, and his eyes practically sparkle.

I should have kissed him.

She felt a flash of guilt, remembering why she hadn’t. Jason. She couldn’t get past him. She shook the thought away, shoving down that guilt, and focused on the ‘what if’ that excited her so much. Just thinking about it wasn't a betrayal, so she embraced the idea.

What would it be like to kiss Dick Grayson?

“Bess!” Tim’s voice broke into the memory. “Bess, look!”

Bess opened her eyes. Her hand almost blended into the firelight behind it. It glowed bright yellow, and in it, the mug of coffee had boiled over. She hadn’t even felt it splashing her hand.

“Holy shit!” She jumped to her feet, her heart soaring. I don’t have to fear this.

She sucked the hot feeling back towards her chest, where it settled down as a warm pit in her stomach. Her hand returned to its normal state, dark against the bright background of the campfire.

“I knew it!” Tim jumped up with her, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her into the air. She dropped the mug, laughing, and hugged him back. “You did it, Bess!” He shouted before setting her back down.

“Did what?” Dick asked, looking up from where he was tuning the guitar.

“Bess heated me up a cup of coffee,” Tim said nonchalantly. Dick raised a questioning eyebrow. Bess couldn’t contain her smile and giddy laughter. “With just my hands, Dick,” she explained. “I did it with just my hands.”

Dick looked puzzled, then realization dawned across his face. “No fucking way,” he said, slowly breaking into a smile. “You used your power, and you controlled it?” He asked, incredulous. Bess nodded quickly.

Dick set his guitar aside and scooped her up into a hug. “I’m so proud of you!” He said.

She hugged him tightly.

I don’t have to be afraid anymore.

“So what did you think about?” Tim asked, settled back in his camping chair. He stuck a marshmallow on the end of a stick, with graham crackers and chocolate balanced on his knee.

“What?” Bess asked, sitting down next to him. Dick went back to tuning the guitar, but kept glancing up, signaling that he was listening.

“To generate the response,” Tim clarified. “What did you think about? Just out of curiosity.”

“Oh.” Bess’s face heated up, and she stared down at the gravel. “Um.” She mentally scrambled for something to say that wasn’t about wanting to kiss Dick.

“Wow, that bad?” Tim teased. His marshmallow fell into the fire. “Fuck.” He grumbled and got another one.

Dick saved her from having to come up with an answer by strumming a few chords on his guitar. “Okay!” He said, his fingers dancing over the strings. “Anyone got any requests?”

“Through the Fire and Flames,” Tim said jokingly. Dick laughed, and said, “asshole. You think I can’t?”

Tim clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Language, Dick, there are innocent ears here.”

Bess laughed into her hand. “How about Diablo Rojo? Do you know that one?” She asked.

“I do, actually,” Dick said with a smile. “But I’ll only play it if someone dances.”

“Let me finish this,” Tim said, testing his roasted marshmallow by pinching it. He put it on top of the chocolate and slid it off. He put the stack together and took a bite, his face melting into a blissful expression. He had it down in a few bites, and washed it back with cold coffee.

He stood, brushing crumbs off his hands, and held a hand out to Bess. “Care to dance?”

Bess took his hand, “sure!”

Dick began to play.

Tim was still a couple inches shorter than Bess, but he led the dance like he was a professional. They danced a fast paced merengue, following the beat of the music. Dick played with deft hands, never missing a note. They spun around the fire, the crunch of the gravel matching their steps.

By the time the song ended, Bess was out of breath. Tim dipped her back for a grand finale. She had a big smile on her face. She curtsied to Tim, who bowed and said, “thank you, my lady.” “Thank you, good sir,” she replied. "That was fun." She sat down again.

“Sure was- what the fuck?!” Tim stepped rapidly back, flapping his hands in front of his face. He paused, peering suspiciously into the darkness. Something small lit up briefly near his face. His expression shifted from suspicion to awe. “Is this a firefly?”

“You’ve never seen a lightnin’ bug before?” Bess asked.

“No,” Tim replied. The darkness began to light up with scores of fireflies, flitting between the trees. Some on the ground lit up too.

“Hold your hand out,” Bess told him. “They’ll land on it.”

Dick held up a hand, looking mildly surprised when one of the gentle insects landed on him. Tim mimicked his action, holding his breath when two landed on his fingers.

“Do we have a jar?” Tim asked in an excited whisper. “I’ve always wanted to catch fireflies in a jar.”

“Yeah, in the back, blue bag,” Dick instructed. Tim ran to the car, holding the hand with the fireflies on it out in front of him.

“Having a good time?” Dick asked, while Tim rooted around in the trunk. “The best time,” Bess replied with a grin. “Want a smore?” She asked.

“Make one for me?”

“You’re spoiled rotten, Mr. Grayson. What would Barbara say?” Bess teased, reaching for the bag of marshmallows and Tim’s roasting stick.

Dick gasped in mock hurt. “She would say I deserve it for working so hard and enduring a 7 hour car ride with Tim Drake.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Bess said jokingly. She turned the marshmallow over the coals of the fire until it was golden brown on all sides. She put it on some chocolate between graham crackers and passed it to Dick. He set his guitar on the picnic table and took it from her, mumbling “thanks,” before digging in.

“Mm! You’re a pro, Bess,” he said around a mouthful. “Best smores I’ve ever had.”

Bess licked some marshmallow off of her fingers.

They turned their heads to watch Tim as he ran around, chasing fireflies.

“Dick?” Bess asked after a moment.

“What’s up?”

“Thank you,” she told him. “For everything.”

“Bess,” Dick began, brushing the crumbs on his hands off on his knee. “I love you,” he said. “I’d do anything to make you happy. It’s…” He paused, then smiled at her. “It’s what family does.”

Chapter Text

There was a house, and it was burning.

Bess could hear the screams from inside over the roar of the flames, but every time she tried to get close, the house moved just out of range. It seemed that no matter how fast she ran or how close she got, she never reached the front door.

The house’s front door morphed into a mouth. “You’re not ready for me,” it said, its voice consisting of creaking stairs, leaky roofs, and running pipes. “You’re not ready for me.” It repeated. “I have to save them!” Bess begged, still reaching for the house.

Someone touched her shoulder. She turned around, coming face to face with Robin. Her Robin. Jason Todd gave her a warm smile, his eyes comforting even behind the mask. He opened his mouth, and smoke billowed out. Bess staggered back, and fell. Jason caught her, and said “Wake up, Bess.”

Bess woke up with a gasp, with a face hovering over her. Jason, she thought, then after a few seconds, no, not Jason.

“Dick,” she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, Bess, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Dick’s apology was sincere. He knelt beside her sleeping bag with an offering of a few pieces of hot bacon on a paper towel. Not too soft, not too crispy.

Bess took it, mumbling her thanks. Dick said, “we’re going to get going in about an hour. Tim’s brewing coffee if you want any.” He started to get up, then stopped, and asked, “are you okay?” Bess nodded wearily. “It was just a nightmare,” she explained. Dick gave her a sympathetic look. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, but thank you for askin’. Let me get dressed and I’ll be out,” she said, handing him back the empty paper towel. He nodded and exited the tent, zipping the door closed behind him.

Bess rubbed her face, trying to get the sleep out of her eyes. She bundled her hair back and tied it up out of her face. She wiggled out of her sleeping bag and crawled over to her backpack, getting out her hiking pants and a shirt.

After getting dressed, Bess crawled out of the tent and sat at the picnic table next to Tim, who was using a camping stove to heat water for coffee. He was staring at the pot. “Morning,” he mumbled, and she returned the greeting.

“You two look half dead,” Dick commented, frying bacon on the other burner. Bess shrugged and said, “I’m not a morning person.”

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you two hadn’t stayed up until 2 am whispering gossip to each other,” Dick chastised. Tim made a big show of rolling his eyes.

Dick scrambled some eggs in the bacon grease, which made for an excellent breakfast. Tim’s coffee was good, and helped Bess shake off the remnants of her dreams. After breakfast, they got in the car and headed up to the Grayson Highlands trailhead.

It was a beautiful day for hiking. Nice and sunny, but not too hot. They made a good pace up the trail. When Dick came across the wild ponies, he spent half an hour taking pictures.

Eventually, they made it to the top of Mount Rogers. It was a smooth boulder face, with a view for hundreds of miles of the surrounding mountains. It was a bright, clear day, perfect for a mountaintop picnic.

“So,” Tim began around a mouthful of sandwich. “I hear you’re quitting the life, Bess.”

Bess shrugged in response. “For now, anyway.”

“Did something happen?” He asked.

Bess paused, her eyes flicking up to Dick. He was pointedly looking out at the view. No one told Tim. It made sense. No one had told Bruce that she had killed someone, though Bess had no doubt that he knew. No one could hide anything from Bruce for long. She knew Dick had told Barbara, but she hadn’t considered that no one would tell Tim.

Did she want to tell him?

“Yes, something happened,” she said after a period of tense silence. “I… I killed someone by accident. I didn’t know my strength yet.” She looked down at her sandwich, her vision blurring with tears.

Murderer.

Something warm pressed against her back. Tim had scooted around and put his back against hers, and leaned his head back on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” he said quietly. “It was just an accident.” She leaned her head back as well. “Accident or not, I killed a man, Tim. A boy, really. I doubt he was even 18 yet.” She said, her breath catching in her chest.

“That doesn’t make you a monster,” Tim told her. A cool mountain breeze blew across her face. She started to reply, “I never said-”

“It’s written all over your face, Bess,” he said. “But I want you to know that no one believes it except you. Accidents happen. I know you won't make the same mistake again, and that’s what matters.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, listening to the bird song echo around them. There were a few fluffy clouds in the sky. Bess watched them float by with the wind.

“Thanks, Tim,” she said after a while. “That helps.”

“Any time, Bess,” he said, pressing his cheek against hers. “We’re family now. We have to look out for each other.”

“You’re good at it,” Bess said. “I genuinely feel better.”

“If only it worked as well on Bruce,” Tim joked.

The click of a camera shutter startled them both. They looked up at Dick, who was holding up his phone. He had a sheepish look on his face. “Sorry,” he said, “I thought the sound was off. You two look so cute like that, I had to get a picture for Barbara.”

“I want a copy, too,” said Bess.

“Let’s take more pictures,” Tim suggested, standing up and brushing himself off. “Dick, is your arm long enough to get the three of us?”

“Definitely,” Dick said, holding out one arm. The three of them stood together, looking up at the camera. “Say Mr Freeze!” Dick said joyfully.

“Mr Freeze!”

Click.

“Okay, Tim, you take the next one,” Dick said, pulling Bess towards the high spot of the rock beneath them. “Bess, this should be easy. You’re going to hold me in the air, I’m going to do a handstand on your hands.”

“Cool,” Tim commented, stepping back to get a good angle.

Bess nodded. She laced her fingers with Dick’s, and braced herself. He jumped up, kicking his feet above his head. The first time, he went right over and landed on the other side of her. The second time, she was ready for what the balance felt like, and held him in the air successfully. To her, he was practically weightless. Balance was the hard part, and he took care of most of it. She could feel the pressure from his weight, but it was like lifting a paper weight above her head.

“I wonder how much weight I can lift,” she commented. “You’re not heavy at all.”

He grinned down at her. “Okay, let go with your left hand,” he told her.

The final picture was great. Dick had taken an almost cartwheel-like stance. His shirt rode up, and his flexed abdomen was clear in the photo. He grinned down at Bess, who held him up with one arm. Her arm looked absolutely shredded. She liked the way she looked.  “I want to hang this on a wall,” Bess commented while looking over Tim’s shoulder at the picture.

The next photo was of Tim and Dick, acting like Tim was holding Dick over a cliff edge. In reality, the rock below was just out of the shot. Bess took one by herself, a shot from behind with her hands on her hips, looking out over the horizon.

They took some more photos before deciding to head back down the mountain.

“You know,” Dick began, about halfway down the trail, “if you want to still be involved without fighting, I could use a guy in the chair. Bruce is keeping Barbara pretty busy, from what I hear, so I could use someone watching my back.”

Bess thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ve never been great at the technical side of things.”

“You won't get better if you don’t practice,” Tim commented, looking over his shoulder at her. He stumbled forward, and Bess caught him by his backpack before he fell. “Give me some time,” she said, “and that might be a good idea.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” said Dick.

Chapter Text

“Shadow, I’m at the school, east entrance.” Nightwing’s voice crackled over the radio in Bess’s ear. “Good,” she replied. “The alarm system is just inside the door, on your left. An EMP should be able to get through the wall; it’s just cinder block and drywall.”

“Done.”

“Sending you the map to the principal’s office.” Bess clicked at a few buttons on the screen in front of her.

“Thanks Shadow, I’ll see what I can find.” Nightwing said, and the line went quiet.

“You’re getting pretty good at this,” Barbara said from beside her. She had come over to Bludhaven for the weekend, and was giving Bess some pointers on how to run things behind the scenes. Bess had been doing that kind of work for Nightwing for roughly six months now.

It had been a few years since they buried Jason. It still hurt some days, but the grief came in smaller and smaller waves.

Bess was still living with Dick at that point, though the threat to her in Gotham had passed. She was still crushing on him, and had still been unable to tell him. There had been so many ‘almost’ moments, but in the end, she never told him. Between her grief for Jason and how close they were as family, she didn’t feel like it was the right time, or that there ever would be a right time.

She definitely hadn’t told him that she thought of him when using her heat powers.

She’d been training with Superman on occasion, learning how to control her strength and pull her punches. Not that she wanted to go the vigilante route again, but she thought it was a good skill to have, just in case, and Bruce had offered to introduce them. She liked Clark. He always seemed to have something helpful to say, and she liked his bright demeanor.

She visited the manor often, but she found that she liked living and working with Dick. Every few weeks, she’d go and visit Barbara for a few days, then stay at the manor for a few days, then she’d come back to Bludhaven. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to last.

Bess was moving out in a month, into an apartment in Gotham. She’d applied for college there. Tim was elated when she told him, glad to have her nearby. They’d become very close over the years. They were practically inseparable, and shared a lot of their interests.

She hadn’t told Dick that she was moving yet. It was one of the reasons Barbara was there that weekend, to help soften the news, and to help Bess start packing.

“Have you decided how you’re going to tell him?” Barbara asked, breaking Bess out of her thoughts. Bess sighed deeply. “No,” she said. “I don’t know how to.”

“Rip it off like a bandaid,” Barbara suggested. “He’s a big boy, he can handle it.”

Bess nodded, chewing on a hangnail. Barbara put a comforting hand on her leg. “How are you feeling about it?” She asked sweetly.

Bess put her hand on top of Barbara’s. “Strange,” she replied. “Nostalgic? I will say I’m not looking forward to sleeping alone, but I think it’s time I tried. I can’t rely on Dick’s good graces forever, and I don’t want to have to commute from the manor to the college every day in Gotham traffic. My apartment is just a block away from campus. It’s just… Dick is family. We're used to living with each other. It’s going to be a hard adjustment without him.”

“Are you going to keep being Shadow?” Barbara asked. Shadow was the moniker that Bess had taken on when she was helping Dick, similar to how Barbara was Oracle.

“Absolutely,” Bess said. “I just hope the distance doesn’t cause too many issues.”

“Distance isn’t as bad as you think,” Barbara said. “We’ve managed to have a successful relationship over the distance; I’m sure being Shadow will be easy.” Bess shrugged, then said, “it must be hard, being apart for so long.”

Barbara gave her a sympathetic look. She reached over and put a comforting hand on Bess’s knee. “It can be,” she said. “Having other people around me helps. Long distance is not for the weak, but you know what they say. Love is not for cowards." She paused, then added, "if you ever get lonely, you can call me.”

Bess smiled and squeezed Barbara's hand. She said, “we should have some sleepovers at my new apartment!”

"So long as it has an elevator," Barbara said with a smile. "I'm so tired of being carried up these stairs. It's embarrassing."

“I’ve found the office,” Nightwing’s voice interrupted the conversation. “This guy has way too much money for a middle school principal. This desk is custom mahogany. I’m going to look around, see if I can find anything suspicious.”

“Thanks for the update,” Bess said, then closed the line again.

“So, what is it that you wanted to tell me?” Dick asked around a mouthful of bagel. He had his mask and gloves off, but was otherwise still in his Nightwing suit. Barbara sat next to him on the couch, while Bess sat in front of them in Barbara’s wheelchair. He paused, looking between them. “Is this an intervention?” He asked. “Because I haven’t touched that shit in-”

“No, Dick,” Barbara cut him off. “This is not an intervention.” She sounded amused.

“You know how I applied to Gotham University?” Bess asked, picking at a hangnail on her thumb.

“Did you get in?” Dick asked hopefully.

Bess nodded. “I did.” Dick grinned earnestly and said, “that’s great, Bess! I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dick,” Bess replied. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Also, I’m moving out.”

Dick stopped chewing, then swallowed and coughed. “You’re moving out?”

Bess looked to Barbara, who nodded encouragingly.

“Yes, I am. I want to be within walking distance to the university. All my classes are in person. I got an apartment in the diamond district, not too far away. Bruce offered to pay for it.” Bess said in a rush.

Dick’s voice was quiet. “When are you leaving?”

“In a month.”

Dick was silent for a long time. His expression was carefully neutral. After a moment, Barbara cleared her throat, and Dick seemed to be jolted out of his thoughts. He put on a smile and said, “we’ll just have to make the most of that time then! Which reminds me!” He retrieved his phone from his pocket. “I’m taking you to a rave for your 21st birthday next weekend. I’ve already booked our tickets.”

“A rave? Dick, isn’t that a bit much?” Barbara asked, her eyebrow raised.

Dick laughed, “no way, not for Bess. Besides, I’m a classic rave mom; I’ll make sure she has the best time ever. It's not one of the underground ones either, practically just a loud club with a neat lightshow. We'll be fine.”

“That sounds fun,” Bess said with a smile.

“Yeah, count me out.” Barbara said.

Dick shrugged, “I figured.”

“Hey Bess,” Barbara said, changing the subject abruptly. “I think I left my phone in the bedroom, would you mind getting it for me?” Her expression told Bess that she really just wanted a moment alone with Dick. Bess nodded with understanding. “Sure, it might take me a few minutes to find it,” she said knowingly. She got up and went into the bedroom, being sure to close the door behind her. She saw Barbara’s phone on the nightstand and tucked it in her pocket. She could hear muffled voices through the door.

“Babs, I can’t-” she was unable to make out the rest, but it was Dick’s voice. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she pressed her ear to the door.

Barbara’s voice was calm. “It’s been years, Dick. You can't keep it to yourself forever.”

Dick sounded mildly distressed. “You were the one who said not to say anything!”

“Yes, almost three years ago! Things have changed. She’s older, she’s doing a lot better.” Barbara said patiently.

“Why haven’t you told her then?” Dick asked sharply.

Told me what?

“What are you afraid of, Dick?” Barbara asked, mildly exasperated.

Silence followed. Then Dick said, “I don’t... I don't want things to change. Besides, she’s moving out now, and I don’t want to screw everything up.”

Bess could hear Barbara’s sigh through the door. “Things are changing anyway, Dick. You might as well decide how they change. I’m… not ready to tell her. We’re not there yet, not that close, but you are. You have been for a long time. You live together. What are you waiting for?”

Bess wondered what they were talking about. Did something happen? Barbara said it had been years, so what could it be?

“If you don’t tell her before she leaves,” Barbara said softly, “you may regret it.”

“You’re awfully intent on this, Babs,” Dick said.

“I’ve watched you pine after her for years, Dick. I will not watch you sulk if you miss your chance.” Barbara said pointedly.

Bess put her hands over her mouth. There was no way she had heard that right. Dick, pining after her? She knew he and Barbara had an open relationship, but this was a bit of a shock. She stepped back from the door, sitting on the edge of the bed.

They’d been living together for a long time, how had she not noticed? Was she really too wrapped up in her own confusing feelings to notice his?

Maybe she misunderstood. Maybe they were talking about someone else, or she had heard them wrong. She opted not to say anything for now. Besides, she shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.

She looked over at the nightstand on her side. A framed picture was on it. She picked it up, trailing her finger over the glass. It was the picture of her and Dick on the mountaintop, with her holding him in the air.

Chapter Text

The booming of the bass on the speakers drowned out any other sound. The ground shook in time with the beat, and made Bess feel like it was the entire crowd sharing a heartbeat. Colorful laser lights lit up the room brilliantly, performing a dance of their own. The throng of people around her pressed in close, with barely enough room to move her arms. She felt a sense of oneness with total strangers. It was incredible. She couldn’t keep the smile off of her face.

Dancing with Dick, she felt in sync with him. They were practically chest to chest, moving in time with the heavy bass heartbeat. Bess was mostly sober, but being here, with him, at this place, she felt high.

She could see why he liked raves so much.

Dick said something, but with earplugs in and the music being so loud, Bess didn’t hear him. She pointed to her ears, shaking her head. He put one hand on the back of her head and leaned down. He pressed his cheek to hers. When she felt his breath on her ear, she could hear him clearly enough.

“Are you having a good time?”

“Fuck yes!” She replied, relishing the opportunity to be closer to him. He pulled back and grinned at her, nodding his approval. He’d painted his face in UV-reactive paint, so he had stripes of neon blue across his cheeks. On his left cheek, he had a smear of glitter, where his face had touched hers.

She had bought glitter spray for the rave, and was covered in it. Dick had helped her pick out her outfit, which was a bright neon yellow crop top and matching shorts. She wore fishnets underneath that were pink, and had bright makeup on, including neon yellow lipstick. She’d splurged on some bright yellow platform shoes.

Dick looked incredible. He had on a blue fishnet shirt that seemed to make his muscles stand out even more than they normally did. He had black cargo shorts on, and he had a pink, purple, and blue sparkly fanny pack around his hips. He looked like he was in his element here.

Dick leaned down again, and Bess strained to listen. He didn’t say anything at first, or maybe she just didn’t hear him. When she did hear his voice, Bess stopped dancing.

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?” She asked, just in case she didn’t hear him right. Her heart jumped into her throat when he repeated himself. “I want to kiss you.”

Hardly believing what she heard, she nodded. Dick moved back from her ear and in front of her face. Looking into his brilliant sapphire blue eyes, reflecting the light show, Bess forgot about all the people around them. His gaze flickered down to her lips, then back at her eyes. His hands rested on her hips, and she could feel his chest brush against hers. She stood on her toes to reach him comfortably and draped her arms over his shoulders.

Briefly, Jason crossed her mind. She pushed the thought away in a flash of frustration. It had been years. Surely it was okay for her to move on? She was tired of carrying that baggage around. Still, it felt wrong to abandon what they’d had once, before he died. 

When Dick kissed her, all those doubts melted away, forgotten. The sharp scent of his aftershave filled her nose, and his lips were so soft, she could think of nothing else. With the bass, it felt like their hearts were in sync. She could feel his breath, hot against her lips. His arms wrapped around her. He pulled her closer until her torso was pressed against his all the way down. She plunged a hand into his hair. Silky smooth strands tickled her fingers, slightly damp from the exertion of dancing all night. Kissing him felt like satisfying an intense craving she didn’t know she had. Now that she knew, she was surprised she had ever gone without.

When they finally broke apart, she was breathless. With a pleased half-smile, Dick rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushing together. Then they were moving with the crowd again, nose to nose, dancing a little less innocently. Bess pressed as close as she could without actively pushing him. Dick let his hands wander, first up the sides of her ribs, then down over her hips, and around to rest on her ass. It felt so natural, as if things had always been like this.

They danced like that for what could have been hours, or just a few minutes. Any sense of time went right out of her head. She kissed him occasionally, wanting to feel that closeness again. Each time seemed more magical than the last. Each time made her feel like she was flying. It felt so right.

He pressed his cheek to hers again so she could hear him. “It’s getting late,” he shouted to be heard. “Wanna get out of here?”

She nodded, and they pulled their bodies apart. Dick held her hand, leading the way through the crowd, weaving around people in all manner of colorful costumes. They broke out of the hot venue into the frigid night air. Bess gasped at the shock. The door closed behind them, and the beat of the music became muffled.

Her watch read a little after two in the morning. Strange, it didn’t even feel like it. She supposed she was used to staying up until the early hours of the morning, but she had barely noticed the time pass. They’d been at the rave for nearly five hours. She plucked the earplugs out of her ears.

“Whoops,” Dick said with a cocky look on his face. “Your lipstick is smeared.” Bess stared up at him for a moment, admiring the way her lipstick was smeared around his lips, bleeding into the blue paint on his face. “What a shame,” she said, and hooked her fingers into the front of his shirt. She kissed him again. He cupped her face in his hands and pushed her gently into the wall behind her. Cold brick made her gasp. His tongue darted out over her bottom lip, then she could feel his teeth tug at her gently. It made her knees feel weak.

He stopped, taking a half step back. “You look absolutely incredible,” he breathed, his fingers trailing lightly over her collar bone. She felt her face heat up at the compliment. “Did you enjoy your first rave?” He asked.

“Hell yeah I did,” Bess said with a grin. She headed towards the sidewalk. The venue was a couple of blocks away from their apartment; they had walked. Dick got a mischievous look on his face as he walked beside her, taking her hand in his. “Look at you, going home with the guy you kissed at a rave,” he said teasingly. She rolled her eyes, laughing softly. “Yep, I’m gonna get in bed with him too.”

She felt Dick’s hand tense. As soon as it had happened, it was gone, and he laced his fingers with hers. She looked up at him. His ears were bright red. “Too far?” She asked, aware of her joke's implications, though she had meant it literally. They shared a bed. Dick shook his head quickly, flashing a reassuring smile. “Nah, not at all, you just caught me off guard; surprised me.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” She asked. Dick held open the door to the apartment building for her. Once the door closed behind them, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back towards him. He pressed her against the door, one elbow resting next to her head. “Bessie Brown, what do you think?” He asked, his lips just barely brushing against hers. Her heart hammered in her chest. “My question is, did you mean it?”

“We sleep in the same bed, Dick,” she said playfully, trying to turn his own game against him.

“Bess,” he said. His voice was serious, but he had a smile on his face. He does have perfect teeth, Bess thought briefly.

“Do you want to sleep with me?” He asked, his voice a low rumble. It seemed to ignite a fire inside of her, and she felt very warm. His gaze was so intense.

She nodded, looking down to avoid eye contact.

“No, I want to hear you say it. Please, Bess,” he murmured. “I want you to tell me that you want to fuck me.”

Dick had always been a straightforward person, but she had never realized the extent of it until that moment. Embarrassment wrestled with arousal in her gut. Dick tucked his fingers under her chin and lifted gently until she was looking up at him.

“Please, Dick?” She asked quietly.

Dick looked thrilled. “Up the stairs, then,” he said, taking one of her hands in his and pulling her away from the door. He followed her up the stairs. She felt nervous, but also excited, and getting up three flights of stairs at a jog worked off most of the nerves.

“We’re going to get glitter everywhere, you know,” she said as he retrieved his keys, more to break the silence than to actually warn him.

“I know,” he winked at her, pushing the door open. He pulled her inside, locking the door behind them.

“You look nervous,” he said once they were inside. He unbuckled the strap of his fanny pack and set it on the counter, then turned on the microwave light. Bess let out a tense breath. “I am,” she admitted.

Dick looked over his shoulder at her. “Bess, I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t want to do. If-”

“No, I do,” she blurted out, cutting him off. “I really, really want to. I just… I’ve never done this before. I don’t know where to start.”

“Really?” Dick turned to face her, surprise evident on his face. She nodded sheepishly. Dick’s smile was sweet and warm, a familiar expression. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m practically a pro.” She laughed a bit at that, hiding her mouth behind her hand.

“If I do anything you don’t like, just tell me and I’ll stop, no questions asked. We'll go slow, okay?” He said, putting his hand on her cheek. She nodded, leaning into it. Her heart was racing. Her body was tense.

“Come sit with me,” he said softly. He sat on the couch, then patted his thigh a few times. Feeling butterflies in her stomach, Bess kicked off her boots and walked over to him, standing in front of him. “Your legs look great in those fishnets,” he said, looking her up and down.

Feeling a brief surge of courage, she replied, “They’ll look good on your shoulders, too.” Dick grinned and responded, “damn, Bess.” He motioned her forward, then pulled on her hips until she climbed onto the couch to straddle his waist. His lap was warm against her legs. She pulled up the bottom of his shirt, watching him flex through the mesh as he raised his arms to let her take it off. She tossed it somewhere behind her.

“Kiss me again?” Dick asked with puppy eyes. As if I'd ever say no, she thought. The very idea was absurd. Bess leaned forward, her hands on his shoulders, and pressed her lips to his. He wrapped his arms around her and sat up, pressing his chest into hers. “Bess,” he whispered against her lips. His fingers trailed up and down her spine. It felt so nice, she relaxed into his touch. Her nerves gradually melted away. She leaned into him, relishing the feeling of his hands on her back.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

It was crazy, how much two little words got to her. She felt a rush of heat through her body, like someone ignited a fire in her gut. Suddenly, all traces of her embarrassment and apprehension was gone, replaced by a burning need. She thought it might consume her, if she wasn’t careful. She ran her hands through his hair, then down the back of his neck. He broke the kiss and pressed his lips to her jaw. She leaned her head to the side and closed her eyes, relishing the trail of kisses he left down her neck.

“Can I take your top off?” He asked, his finger sliding under the hem of the shirt. She nodded, and he pulled it over her head. He looked up at her with an awed expression. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. Feeling shy, she looked away, trying to hide her smile.

Warm hands trailed up her ribs, slowly, until they reached the bottom of her breasts. His thumbs brushed over the sensitive flesh, earning a shudder from her. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Something warm and wet touched her nipple. She looked down to see him putting his mouth on her. He looked up at her with his big blue eyes. The sight of it was a thrill. She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t put a coherent string of words together. It felt good, and watching him do it felt great.

She felt his smile, rather than saw it. He reached up and brushed two fingers against her lips. She took them into her mouth, sucking on them. A low moan came from his chest. The sound was musical. “You have perfect tits,” he mumbled, barely pulling his mouth away from her.

His other hand rested in the small of her back, gently pushing inward. As she relaxed and let him guide her, her shoulders rolled back and her hips rolled forward, settling right against his. She felt something hard against her thigh. She dug her nails into his shoulders, admiring the hard muscle there. He bit gently on her nipple, earning a soft gasp. His fingers dug into her hip, using the pressure to guide her to rock back and forth. The friction felt amazing, like it was sending little electric shocks through her.

He pulled his fingers out of her mouth, trailing down the front of her neck. She leaned her head back, craving the feeling of his hands on her. His hand went around and spread out between her shoulder blades.

Then he was moving. He lifted her up and turned, gently laying her on her back on the couch. He leaned over her, biting her shoulder softly. A sound escaped her mouth, and she slapped her hand over it. He gently pulled on her wrist and murmured in her ear, “I want to hear you.” His voice was low and husky.

He bit her again, and this time, a soft, high-pitched moan filled the air between them. “Good girl,” he purred, kissing the spot that he had bitten. Just the feeling of his teeth grazing her flesh sent waves of sensation through her. She shivered, despite not being cold. He knelt between her legs, hooking his fingers in the belt loops of her shorts. “May I?” He asked.

She nodded, watching him with a sense of fascination. He leaned back and pulled her shorts, stockings, and panties off in one go. Her legs settled on his shoulders, her dark skin contrasting with his light chest. His hands trailed up her thighs, her flesh appearing pillowy when he squeezed. “You’re fucking sexy, Bess,” he said, gazing down at her with admiration.

“You’re one to talk,” she replied boldly, gesturing towards him. He smiled and dropped his gaze, the blush on his face apparent even in the low light coming from the microwave light in the kitchen. “You really think so?” He asked, looking back up at her face.

“Of course! You’ve always been fucking gorgeous, Dick,” she said sweetly. His fingers traced circles on her inner thigh. He positioned her legs so her knees were resting on the crest of his hips. “Tell me more?” He asked. His fingers grazed her pussy. She gasped softly, then bit her lip.

“You’re- You’re incredible,” she breathed, her head leaning back as one finger circled around the folds. “Your hair alone would make any model jealous,” she told him. “Go on,” he encouraged her.

“I’ve spent hours just looking at your jaw,” she said. He slid a finger into her. She felt her breath catch in her throat when he curled it. “Fuck,” she breathed, the word sounding somewhat strangled. She gripped the cushion beneath her.

“Good girl,” he told her. She moaned in response. His free hand settled on her stomach, applying light pressure. “Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this, Bess?” He asked, his voice taking on a silky quality she’d never heard from him before. It was intoxicating. She shook her head, waiting for him to tell her.

“Do you remember that day,” he started saying, and added a second finger. “About a week before our first camping trip, when you were singing and making breakfast?” He curled and uncurled his fingers. It sent waves of pleasure through Bess, who arched her back, gasping.

“Anyway, we started play fighting, and you ended up sitting on my chest. You pinned my wrists to the floor.” Dick told the story casually, but his expression was hungry. He rubbed circles around her clit with his thumb. Bess couldn’t contain the whimpers and moans that spilled from her lips. She reached up and grasped at the throw pillow above her head, just to give her hands something to hold on to.

“I fantasized about this while washing those dishes,” Dick said. “And while we were camping. And on top of the mountain. And every single day since then. Sleeping next to you makes me want to wake you up in the middle of the night by eating you out.”

“Dick!” Bess moaned, trying to sit up. She reached for his shoulders. He put his hand around her throat and pushed her back down. “Behave,” he growled, his expression darkening with the warning. Fuck, that turned her on. His fingers began to pump in and out of her, curling and tugging on that sensitive spot inside her. His thumb paid special attention to her clit. Bess whimpered and bit her lip, gazing up at him with a pleading look.

He began to move, scooting further down on the couch and lifting her knees up onto his shoulders. He laid on his stomach, placing kisses on the inside of her thighs. Bess panted, threading her fingers through his hair. “You’re doing such a good job,” he murmured, then dragged his tongue over her clit. His fingers curled at the same time, creating an electrifying sensation that caused Bess to arch her back and cry out.

Her legs began to feel numb. Her toes curled as the feeling crawled up her spine. “Dick,” she moaned, “Dick, I can’t, I-I’m gonna- fuck, please! ” Little moans and pleas spilled from her lips. She was right on the edge until Dick pressed his mouth against her clit and sucked. Bess felt like she was unraveling. Her climax ripped through her body.

Wave after wave of indulgent pleasure rolled through her. The room filled with a warm, golden light, but she barely noticed. She cried out his name over and over again. He curled his fingers and held them against her g-spot. They slightly pulsed back and forth, intensifying the feeling. Bess saw stars, and closed her eyes, her hips rolling into his mouth.

When the feeling faded, she laid back on the couch. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Dick propped himself on his elbows, licking his glistening lips slowly. “Wow. Good girl,” he murmured, turning his head to kiss her thigh. “That has to be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled against her skin. “Did you know that you glow?”

“Glow?” She asked between breaths, barely able to get the word out. She felt like she was drunk.

“Mmhmm,” he planted a soft kiss on her stomach. “You glow when you get off. It’s magnificent.”

She couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. She let out a few airy giggles.

After a moment of letting her catch her breath, Dick got up off the couch. He went into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. Bess sat up, taking the glass when he offered. She felt a little shaky. “Thank you,” she said. He sat next to her and kissed her forehead, his arm around her while she drank.

He took the glass from her when she was done and asked, “do you want more?”

“Water? No thanks,” she answered, leaning back on the couch.

Dick chuckled softly, clearly amused. “No,” he said, “not more water.”

Heat flooded through Bess as she realized what he meant. “Oh,” she said, then, “yes.”

Dick left the glass on the floor and picked her up off the couch. She wrapped her legs around him, clinging to his shoulders. She placed little kisses on his neck while he walked towards the bedroom. He tilted his head to the side to give her space. She could feel his breath on her ear.

He set her down on the bed, planting his hands on either side of her hips and leaning over her. “In my nightstand drawer,” he said, gesturing with his head, “there’s a box of condoms. Get one for me?” His messy hair settled on his forehead.

Bess nodded and crawled over to the other side where his nightstand was. She could feel his eyes on her. She pulled open the drawer and retrieved a condom, tossing it to him. He put the corner of the package in his teeth, gazing down at her. He began unbuttoning his pants. Bess leaned her back against the headboard, watching him. The streetlights filtering in through the cracks in the curtains seemed to dance on his body, which sparkled when the lights hit the glitter on his skin.

He made a show of undressing himself, and Bess loved every second of it. “Ever the performer,” she commented playfully. He shrugged with a smile, then ripped open the condom package. He leaned his head back and slowly rolled the condom on, his gaze never leaving hers. She felt her breath hitch in her throat. Who knew that could be so hot? She thought.

He crawled on the bed towards her, reminding her of the way a leopard stalked prey. He leaned forward, grabbing her ankles. She yelped and giggled when he pulled her towards him. When she was close enough he could lean over her, he planted his hands on either side of her head. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, pulling him down.

He leaned on his elbows. His body covered hers. “Is this something you want, Bess?” He asked, his voice husky. Bess nodded quickly, and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Please,” she asked softly.

Bess had always heard that the first time was going to hurt, but when Dick eased himself into her, that just wasn’t the case. Instead, a wave of pleasure washed over her as he filled her up. The sensation stole her breath. She reached up and grabbed his shoulders. He settled his weight onto her, wrapping his arms around behind her and hooking his fingers over her shoulders. He buried his face in her neck, his breath catching. “Fuck,” he grunted, and rolled his hips slowly. “You feel fucking good , Bess. God, you smell good too,” he purred. He planted desperate kisses all over her neck.

Bess tangled her hands in his hair, her eyes fluttering shut. “Dick,” she breathed, leaning her head back. He thrust again, a bit harder, and she felt like she was going to cum again already, still so sensitive from the first time.

“Oh Bess,” Dick groaned, his breath hot against her skin. Each time he thrust sent new waves of pleasure through her. She squeezed him with her legs. He grunted and let out a breathy laugh. “Not too hard, Bessie,” he said. “Don’t forget how strong you are.” He pat her thigh gently with one hand, then gripped her hip.

She wasn’t able to put together an apology as he picked up the pace. Feeling his body rock against hers sent waves of chills down her spine. She could feel the curves of his muscles pressed against her. “Dick!” She whimpered, pressing her cheek against his hair.

“Tell me, Bess,” Dick murmured. “Tell me how much you want this. Tell me how much you want me. Please, Bess, I need to hear you say it.” There was something desperate about his voice. It took on a strained quality that Bess found incredibly alluring.

“I need you, Dick!” Bess cried out, not even bothering to be embarrassed about how loud she was. Moans spilled from her lips with every breath, every thrust. Dick's hand moved from the crest of her hip tucked underneath them, lifting them up just a little. The slight adjustment made all the difference. Bess lost track of words and cried out, arching her back as he rocked into her. He moaned with every breath. His moans were like music to her ears, and she wanted to hear more. She squeezed as gently as she could manage with her legs. Dick’s other hand moved from her shoulder to cradle the back of her neck, and he kissed her. It was sloppy and desperate, and she drank it up. “Bess,” he mumbled against her lips. He sounded desperate. “Bessie, I’m gonna-” She cut him off with another kiss. She raked her fingernails up and down his back. He moaned against her lips.

The pace of his thrusts went from an even, steady pace, to rough and desperate. He broke the kiss and put his forehead against hers, his eyes screwed shut. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned, and stopped thrusting, his whole body tensed. She held him as close as she could, feeling him shudder.

I did this to him, she thought with a touch of pride. She panted heavily, her legs trembling around his waist. He relaxed, gasping for air. “Fuck, Bess,” he said, laughing softly. “You’re fucking incredible,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He moved his arms to put his weight on his elbows on either side of her shoulders.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” She asked, brushing some hair back away from his forehead. “Oh fuck yes,” he replied with a grin. “Are you kidding me? I’m going to be thinking about that for months.”

He rolled off of her and laid on his back, catching his breath. Bess laid on her side, her arm tucked under her head, watching him. He glistened with a combination of sweat and body glitter. He was gorgeous. It made her heart skip. She briefly thought about taking a picture.

He turned his head towards her, smiling when he saw her expression. “You wanna get off again?” He asked, looking mischievous.

Bess pretended to think about it, then nodded.

Dick got up with a grunt and went to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. "Lay on your side," he said when he came back. He laid behind her, his body seeming to curve perfectly around hers. One of his arms wrapped around her chest, the other lifting her top leg to lay across his. His hand ran down her stomach, and his voice rumbled in his chest, providing chilling vibrations against her back. “I wanna see you glow again, pretty girl.”

Bess couldn’t stop the giggles that burst out of her. “That’s cute,” Dick murmured, kissing her temple gently. His arm draped over her, his fingers tracing circles on her inner thigh. Her breath hitched; the anticipation was almost as good as when he actually touched her. He pulled her tightly against his chest and pushed two fingers into her. She gasped and arched, shamelessly rocking her hips into his hand.

“So sensitive,” he murmured. His teeth tugged on her ear gently. “I love it,” he purred. “It makes me want to do some dirty things to you, Bess.”

His voice had a profound effect on how aroused she was. She reached over her head and behind her, running her hands through his hair again. He let out a pleased sigh, leaning his head forward so she could reach. His fingers slowly pumped in and out of her, his palm grinding into her clit. It felt amazing. She could feel her release beginning to build in her core, her sensitivity rising with every movement of his expert hand.

“Dick, please,” she panted, trying her best not to writhe around at his touch. He pressed his palm down against her, curling his fingers. “Grind on my hand, beautiful,” he growled in her ear. “I wanna know just how needy you are.”

She was happy to oblige. Her hips rolled into the calloused hand, sending jolts of pleasure through her. She whimpered and moaned helplessly. She had never felt so desperate. His fingers pulsed inside her, rubbing and putting pressure on her g-spot. She leaned her head back into the crook of his shoulder. He pressed his cheek to hers, his chest against her back. “Will you cum for me, Bess?” He asked sweetly. “Please?”

“Fuck,” she hissed, her body tensing. She was so close it hurt. “Dick!” She cried out, her legs shaking violently. Her fingers clutched at the arm across her chest. “Oh, what a good girl,” Dick said, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re almost there,” he purred.

It was enough to push her over the edge. She cried out, feeling wave after wave of pleasure roll through her. It was so intense it almost hurt. She tried to form words, but they tumbled out of her mouth as moans and half-baked pieces of words. Dick held his hand still, allowing her to move as she pleased. She clung to his arm. His other hand cupped her breast tenderly, the thumb brushing over her nipple. It added a little extra sensation.

“You’re glowing,” he purred. Bess opened her eyes to see the room lit up with warm golden light. As her orgasm faded, so did the light. She could feel her heartbeat throughout her body. She could hardly believe what had just happened. She felt like she was floating.

“Next time, I’ll fuck you in front of a mirror, so you can see how amazing that is,” Dick murmured. He kissed her head and praised her, “you did such a good job, pretty girl.”

Bess felt exhaustion run over her like a wave. Her body relaxed, content to rest against Dick’s. She felt complete, in a way, like this was what had been missing. She rolled over in his arms, hugging him close. He rested his lips against her forehead and ran his hands over her back.

“I love you, Bess,” he murmured. "Happy birthday."

Bess smiled, followed by some tired giggles. She whispered, “I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

The spoon made a soft tinkling sound against the glass as Bess stirred it. “Electrolytes,” she mumbled to herself, setting the glass aside. “Protein and carbs,” she knelt down to get into the bottom of the fridge, where she kept prepped meals. She put one in the microwave. While it was heating up, she went to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. “Oh, we’re almost out of gauze,” she said to herself.

“I’ll be sure to pick some up next time I’m out,” Dick said as he crawled in the bedroom window. She approached him and looked him over, inspecting the Nightwing suit, and the man in it, thoroughly. “Just a small nick on my forehead, Bess, nothing to worry about,” he said, bending down so she could see the small wound.

He sucked in air through his teeth when she dabbed at it with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. It was small enough that a large bandaid sufficed to cover it.

“Is that chicken?” Dick asked, following his nose to the kitchen. “Yes,” Bess replied, “take your gloves off and wash your hands first.”

While Dick was washing his hands, Bess put his hot meal and electrolyte water on the counter with a fork. “Thanks Bess,” he said before wolfing down the chicken and rice, smothered in gravy. Bess laughed softly and scolded him, “slow down, you’ll get cramps.”

He smiled at her, his cheeks stuffed. “What will I do without you?” He mumbled around the mouthful. Bess had to struggle to keep the smile on her face.

“It’s not too late to back out, you know,” Dick said once he swallowed. He pointed the fork at her. “You’re always welcome to stay with me, pretty girl.” He shot her a wink.

Bess hid her blushing ears behind her hair. “I’ve already set up most of my stuff there, Dick, and school starts next week. Believe me,” she looked up at him sincerely, “there’s nothing I’d like more than to stay with you forever, but I need to do something with my life.”

“Saving lives as Shadow isn’t enough?” He asked. Despite his intentions, the comment stung.

“No, it’s not,” she snapped, more harshly than she meant to. Dick’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I didn’t get much sleep yesterday.”

“Your sleep schedule is going to be fucked,” Dick said, easing some of the tension.

Bess snorted, “you have no idea. Between school and helping you, I don’t know when I’m going to get any sleep.”

Dick reached out and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing gesture. “If you need to take a break from being Shadow, I understand.”

“You might understand,” Bess began, half-joking, “but Bruce certainly wouldn’t. The mission comes first, after all.”

Dick gave her a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to live to impress him, Bess, and he’s more understanding than you might think.”

Bess shrugged in response, chewing a hangnail on her free hand nervously. “I know he is, but…. Ugh. It’s hard to express.”

“I get it,” Dick said softly. “He’s this big powerhouse, a figure bigger than all of us. Leader of the Justice League, hero of Gotham, striking fear into the hearts of man and beast alike; it’s a lot to live up to. Plus, he’s pretty much our Dad. We have this,” he paused, shaking his hand in front of him, trying to express the emotion. “This desire to make him proud,” he finished. He leaned back against the counter, pulling her hand to rest on his chest. “I don’t want you to burn out trying to be everything.”

Bess leaned against him, and he draped his arms around her. “I’m going to miss you, Bess,” he murmured, pressing gentle kisses to her head.

“You could always come with me,” Bess whispered, almost afraid to ask. She knew what his answer would be. Sure enough, he said, “you know I would love that, but Bludhaven needs Nightwing. We’ll have to make do with visits.”

Bess nodded, shoving down her disappointment. “I know,” she said. “If you and Barbara can make it work, so can we.”

“Damn straight,” he said with a light-hearted tone. “With my two main girls in Gotham, I’m tempted to leave Bludhaven to the wolves sometimes, but someone has to keep shit together here.”

“And who is that going to be?” Bess asked, teasing him. He rolled his eyes with a playful smile and kissed her. She leaned into it, losing herself in the warm, fuzzy feeling and the butterflies in her stomach. She smiled against his lips.

“So, what do you want to do for your last day in Bludhaven?” Dick asked once he pulled away. Bess winked at him and answered, “you.”

“Oh, that can be arranged.”

Chapter Text

“A little more to the left,” Barbara instructed, making a waving gesture with her hand. Tim adjusted the frame on the wall, then looked back to her for approval. “It’s a bit tilted,” she said, then, “no, other way. There, that’s perfect.” She clasped her hands together. Tim nodded and stepped back to admire his work.

The picture was of the bat family at Barbara’s last birthday party. They were hanging it in Bess’s new apartment while Bess was moving her furniture around.

It was a nice little studio apartment, with a small balcony overlooking the street adjacent to the university. The spires of the university buildings could be seen peeking over the rooftops. It was on the seventh floor. Fortunately for Barbara, there was an elevator.

“How’s it going in here?” Bess asked, appearing from behind the wall that separated the bedroom from the rest of the apartment. “We’re all finished,” Barbara announced, gesturing to the space around them. A few pictures of the family littered the walls, and the kitchen supplies were put away.

“It looks great,” Bess said with a bittersweet smile. She turned her head when there was a knock on the door.

Bruce had a slight smile on his face when Bess opened the door. He had a bouquet of flowers in one hand, primarily irises and marigolds, and a wrapped present in the other. Bess welcomed him in, taking both from him.

“Good to see you, Bruce,” Barbara said.

“You too, Barbara. How are you?” Bruce asked politely.

“Well, it hasn’t been a walk in the park,” Barbara joked. Bruce had the good grace to laugh.

Bess put the flowers in a glass of water and set them on the kitchen counter. She examined the wrapped present, looking over at Bruce. He nodded and made a slight gesture towards it. Bess sat down on the floor, and unwrapped the present.

It was a large framed picture of the entire Bat family from the previous Christmas. Bess’s smile was genuine as she thanked Bruce, then began wandering the small space, looking for a good place to hang it. She settled on a spot above the sofa, and Tim helped her hang it.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Bess said once it was hung. “It brings everything together. It looks great across from Babs’ birthday party.”

“You’re welcome, Bess. I hope your apartment is comfortable for you,” Bruce replied. Then he cleared his throat and spoke again. “Have you heard from Clark recently?” The question was abrupt, and surprise showed on Bess’s face.

“No,” she replied, “not for about a week or so. Why do you ask?”

Tight lines formed between Bruce’s eyebrows. “Neither has Lois,” he said, and it was all the explanation they needed. “Has the Justice League heard anything?” Barbara asked, concerned. Bruce shook his head. “No,” he said, “nothing. Lois said he didn’t come home from work last Friday, and no one has seen him since then. The Daily Planet has reported him as missing.”

“We’ll help you find him,” Barbara offered, looking at the others for support. They nodded. “Thank you,” Bruce said, worry evident in the fine lines of his face.

“I’ll ask some of my contacts in Bludhaven if they’ve heard anything,” Bess said, pulling out a flip phone. A burner, Barbara thought to herself. Smart girl.

“I have some friends in Metropolis,” Tim chimed in. “Maybe they’ve heard something that the Justice League hasn’t.”

“I’ll check social media and news feeds,” Barbara said, rolling over to her backpack by the door. It would be better to be in the clock tower, but she got the sense that their mission was time sensitive, or Bruce wouldn’t have brought it up on moving day. She retrieved her laptop.

“I’ve got something,” Bess said a few minutes later, peering down at her flip phone. “Dr. Pamela Isley was recently seen in Bludhaven,” she held up the phone, pointing the screen outwards. “Guess who was with her?”

“That was fast,” Barbara commented, taking a look. On the small screen was a blurry screencap from what looked like a CCTV camera in a garden store. Dr. Isley was at the front counter, with a cart full of plants too blurry to identify.

Standing next to her was Clark Kent.

“Well, at least we know what happened to him,” Bess said. Bruce did not look happy. He glared at the photo, as if he could intimidate it into changing. “Good work, Bess,” he said finally.

“I’ll keep Lois in the loop,” Barbara offered. Bruce nodded once.

“Any idea where they went after that?” Tim asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Bess shrugged. “Nope,” she said, “just that they bought a ton of plants and bailed. Whatever it is, with her, it can’t be good. I think he’s under her influence.”

“He must be,” Bruce said. “He wouldn’t help Poison Ivy otherwise, no matter what she’s doing. There’s a history there.”

“Really?” Bess asked.

Bruce nodded and said, “this has happened before. Last time, Catwoman and I had to snap him out of it by putting Lois in danger. I doubt that will work twice. I’m surprised he let Ivy get to him again.” He scowled, deep in thought. “I’m very surprised. He isn’t one to make the same mistake twice.”

“Shit,” Barbara muttered, scrolling through her laptop. “There’s a massive structural fire at the Metropolis Stock Exchange building. Hundreds of people are still trapped inside, and local emergency response teams are struggling to keep the blaze under control.” She looked up at the others. “Eyewitnesses are claiming that Superman started it.”

Chapter Text

Bess’s heart hammered in her chest. She put a hand over it, trying to will it to calm down. She was in the Batwing with Bruce, responding to the fire that Superman had started. It had taken them roughly an hour to get to this point. They were five minutes away from the building. The structural fire had grown into a massive inferno that had consumed the bottom half of the building, and was making its way up.

It was her first time in the field since she’d killed a man. She kept reminding herself that she wasn’t going to be fighting, just assisting with evacuation. She was uniquely suited to this particular task, after all. She was fireproof.

“I’m dropping you over the building,” Batman said, his voice coming through the internal coms of the plane. “You’ll land on the roof, which hasn’t caught fire yet. The fire is primarily in the lower floors. I’ll scan the building, and send you the locations of any survivors. I’ve informed the local authorities that I’m sending you in, and about the situation with Poison Ivy. I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of providing a code name for you.”

“What is it?” She asked.

“Phoenix.” He glanced over his shoulder at her.

“That works,” she replied, pulling the fireproof cloth he’d gotten over her head. It was almost reflective, like a thousand little scales glittering throughout the tough cloth. It had been developed by the Justice League to withstand the fire powers of some of their heroes. Bruce had it made for her shortly after the accident. She was just now getting to use it. She had a mask of the same material.

It was hot, and heavy, and not very flexible, but it would serve its purpose. It cast a glittering reflection over the roof of the plane, like a thousand fairy lights. She pulled a gas mask over her face to provide protection from the smoke. She put on the goggles over her costume mask, blinking as the HUD came up.

“Approaching the drop zone,” Batman said, and Bess got up from her seat, heading towards the back of the plane. She strapped a bag of the same fireproof material to her back; it contained fire blankets and a few disposable gas masks, though they would only last minutes once she got to the hottest parts of the building. She took a deep breath, looking down as the small bomb doors opened. She could see the building approaching rapidly.

“Now.”

She jumped at Bruce’s command, falling a few hundred feet to the building below. She hit the roof and rolled, grunting at the impact. She’d been practicing large jumps with Clark, before he disappeared. Her knees ached a little, but she shook it off.

She looked down at the roof of the skyscraper beneath her. She could feel the heat emanating from it. Several bright dots showed up on the HUD in her goggles. Those are people, she thought. Her anxiety melted away, replaced by a cool determination.

I have to save them.

She opened the maintenance hatch and hopped in. Soon, she was surrounded by thin wisps of smoke. “I’m uploading the building plans to your goggles,” Batman said over the radio. “The firemen have been alerted to your presence. The fire is still in the bottom half of the building; its partially collapsed. The current estimate is fifteen minutes before the whole thing comes down. They’re trying to clear a route out. I’ll send a rendezvous point for you and the victims once I have it. In the meantime, if you can get to the windows on the north side of the building, they’re waiting with jump pads.”

“Copy that,” Bess said, taking deep breaths through her mask. It had some drag, and it was an effort to get a decent breath, but it was better than the thick, black smoke billowing through the building. Smoke had filled the hall she was in. It had taken maybe thirty seconds to go from full visibility to practically none.

“How is the mask working for you?” Barbara asked over the radio.

“Tough to breathe through, but I can breathe.” Bess answered, making her way through the halls to the first office with someone still inside. She pushed open the door. The woman was hovering by the window, sticking her head out, coughing.

Checking the HUD system, Bess found that this was the north side of the building. She approached the woman, putting her hand out to touch her shoulder. The woman looked at her, wide-eyed, then back out the window. Bess leaned over and looked out. Sure enough, about fifty stories down, there was a jump pad, bright orange against the asphalt. The street around the building was blocked by the fire engines and ambulances.

“I can’t jump from here!” The woman shrieked. “It’s too far!”

“You’re right,” Bess replied, muffled by her mask. “Let me take you down a couple floors.” She retrieved a temporary mask from her bag for the woman.

Bess let the work overtake her. Time seemed to fly as she worked, mostly on autopilot. She carried victims through the halls, picking up more as she went, until she made it about halfway down. Some could walk on their own, some she had to carry. From the 24th floor, she felt comfortable tossing them out the window. She had to push a few who were too scared to jump, but it was better to be scared and alive.

She was aware of the heat now. New lights lit up in front of her eyes. The building groaned loudly, and she felt the floor shake beneath her.

“Five minutes until structural collapse,” Barbara said in her ear. “Batman has done all he can to slow it down. You’re running out of time, Phoenix.”

“I’m heading into the burning floors now,” Bess replied. “Do we have a rendezvous point yet?”

“We do,” Batman’s deep voice came through. “Second floor, east side, they’ve got a ladder at a window. All other exits that low have been compromised. There’s only a few paths still strong enough to hold weight; I’ll send it to your HUD. Get as many people as you can and get there.”

“Understood,” Bess said, and picked up the pace. She ran through the burning halls, aware of the flames licking at her skin. It was amazing to her that she wasn’t even burning. It wasn’t really even that uncomfortable.

Her biggest problem was that she was exhausted. This was grueling work, it was an effort to breathe, and she was in a time crunch. As she went, more and more of the lights on her HUD went out. People were dying before she could even get to them. She dodged a collapsing wall, and pulled a fire blanket out for the unconscious man behind it. She strapped a mask to his face and heaved him over her shoulder.

The last people were huddled together in a group. Bess tossed the man out a window to the responders below, and headed in their direction. They were locked in a central room on the fourth floor. The temperature in the room was much cooler than outside the room, and once Bess reached it, she realized that they were in a safe.

She wondered if she could just pull the safe out as one unit, but it was huge, and wouldn’t fit through the hallways. Doing so might also bring the building down on top of her, and she had yet to test the upper limits of her strength. She didn’t know if she could get them out if she tried.

So she broke open the safe, prying the door off of the front. Five wide-eyed gazes stared up at her, terrified. One of them had a baby in her arms. Shit, Bess thought. You just had to bring the kid to work.

“I’m here to get you out. We can’t stay here,” she said, handing them the bag. They retrieved the masks. There weren’t enough, with the baby with them. Bess took off her own mask and put it on the baby. It was big, but it fit well enough to keep the infant alive. Acrid smoke burned the back of her throat, and she resisted the urge to cough. She kept her breaths shallow, hoping her fireproof abilities might provide her with some resistance to the smoke. “Follow me,” she croaked, and led them out the safest path she had found to the third story.

The window was in sight, with a fireman waving at them. Bess pushed forward, then the building shook beneath her feet.

“Phoenix, you’re out of time.” Barbara said, her voice sounding distant.

“Shit.” Bess watched the people around her stumble, as if the very earth was shaking beneath them. She reached out and pulled them close to her, keeping all five in a tight ball, and held her breath. She yanked a fire blanket out of the bag, the last one, and unfolded it as fast as her trembling hands could manage.

The building shrieked, and crumbled. The floor beneath them broke under their weight, plunging them down into the flames. Bess tossed the blanket down beneath them, hoping it would be enough. It gave them a place to land that wasn’t instant death. They hit the ground hard, with the civilians falling to the ground. Bess landed upright, but only just.

She looked up at the hole above them, watching thousands of tons of building material barreling towards her. “Fuck,” she grunted, and held up her arms. If she couldn’t catch it, they were dead.

A steel beam hit her first. She was able to catch that with little trouble. She hoped that she could use it to catch the rest. Another one fell across it. More debris fell, caught by the beams, and her shoulders began to protest. With trembling legs, she took impact after impact. Her lungs begged her for air, and her diaphragm started spasming as she struggled to breathe.

When the debris settled, she could hear the distant roar of flames, and the sound of a baby crying. They were in a little pocket that, thankfully, wasn't actively burning, but she could barely see the huddled shapes around her through the smoke. The temporary masks wouldn’t last long, and she might not either.

“Phoenix!” Barbara’s voice reached her.

“I’m alive,” Bess grunted through gritted teeth. Fuck , this building was heavy. “Not for long, though.” Her arms trembled with the effort.

“Hang tight, we’re gonna get you out,” Barbara said, sounding panicked.

Bess didn’t answer. She was saving her strength. The space they were in was tight, and the victims huddled around her. The woman with the baby had to sit between her legs. They screamed when the debris shifted. Bess’s arms failed, but she was able to catch the weight on her shoulders. “Fuck,” she hissed, screwing her eyes shut.

There was a long period of muffled silence, broken only by the sounds of the building coming down, and the distant roar of fire.

“What’s your name?” The mother beneath her asked quietly.

“Phoenix,” she replied without opening her eyes.

“I meant your real name,” the woman said. “If we’re going to die here, I would like to know the name of our hero.”

“I’m not your hero if you die,” Bess grunted. She felt a gentle pressure on her leg. It was comforting.

“We would have died anyway,” a man to her left said. “At least you’re trying to save us. That’s what matters.”

“You will save us,” a different, younger voice said. “You can do this. We just have to survive until-”

The building above them groaned. More weight fell on Bess’s shoulders, and she cried out with the strain. Tears streamed down her face, evaporating nearly as fast as they came. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. She cracked open one eye and looked down at that little baby, wearing her mask. The baby was screaming- a good sign.

“I can’t believe Superman would do this to us,” the mother said, tearing up. She sounded betrayed, heartbroken.

“He didn’t,” Bess jumped to his defense. “He’s being controlled by Poison Ivy. It’s not his fault.” She hissed out the words through gritted teeth and strained lungs. She was aware she didn’t sound convincing, but it was all she could offer.

She counted the seconds, knowing she couldn’t keep this up for long. Apparently, the weight of a skyscraper was right around her upper limits of strength.

“Phoenix, can you hear me?” Dick’s voice crackled in her ear. His voice was musical, tainted by fear. “Nightwing,” she whispered.

“I’m here,” he said, then, “did you know you’re holding about three hundred thousand tons on your shoulders? Fun fact!”

Damn. Bess felt a rush of pride.

“News to me,” she grunted, sucking in a burning breath. She coughed, and the debris above her shuddered. Dust crumbled down around her. “We don’t have long,” she wheezed.

The mother beneath her began crying softly.

“You can do this, Phoenix.” Dick said. “They’re working on digging for you. You landed in the basement. Batman thinks that they can use some air vents that haven’t crumbled yet to get you out. We’re going to get you out.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

“You’ve got this, kid,” an older man, dressed in a janitor’s uniform, said from her left side. He reminded her of her father, with just a touch of gray in his mustache. Of all the victims, he was the only one that didn’t look terrified, just mildly uncomfortable in the burning heat..

Bess held his gaze, and nodded slightly.

The remains of the skyscraper shrieked and groaned. She could feel the vibrations rattle her to the bone, but she held firm.

The janitor held something up with a questioning look. She squinted, and saw that it was water in one of those small plastic bottles. She nodded quickly, her throat and mouth as dry as cotton. He held the plastic bottle to her lips, and she drank all of it. Water had never felt so miraculous. “Good work, kid,” the janitor said. His voice was comforting.

“Bess,” she croaked. “My name is Bess.” She wanted to hear her own name, if she was going to die here.

“Bess,” he repeated. “Bess, you are a hero.”

You are a hero.

He sounded so certain, as if it were a law of reality. Bess believed him. This was what she had been born for, to save people who were victims of the war between good and evil. She had been granted powerful gifts, even if she had suffered to get them. It was a terrible waste if she didn’t use them.

It was like a breath of fresh air. A new wave of determination washed over her, and her legs didn’t feel quite so weak. She ground her teeth together, and stood firm.

Nightwing and Barbara took turns talking in her ear, but she barely noticed. She didn’t bother to answer, putting all her focus into not letting the building fall on them. The janitor and the mother talked to her occasionally, too. The others stayed silent, lost to their own fear.

The baby’s cries were the only sound she regularly focused on. She couldn’t drop a building on a baby. It was like an anchor for her. As long as that baby was crying, it was alive, and as long as it was alive, she couldn’t let the building fall. She was coughing regularly, her lungs burned, her muscles screamed in protest, but she had to keep going.

To her right, the young man with blond hair, stained with ash, closed his eyes and slumped against her leg. The air masks were failing. Bess struggled to fight off the panic threatening to overwhelm her. Sobs began to fill the gaps between coughs.

“Phoenix, search and rescue has almost broken through,” Barbara’s voice seemed to break through the haze. Sure enough, if she listened, she could hear scratching and voices. The others around her turned towards the sound. At that point, all their masks had failed, and they were gasping for air. Only the baby was breathing clean air.

A large piece of drywall crumbled, and a gasmask poked through the haze. “I found them!” A muffled voice cried out. The rescuer held out his hands. The mother passed him the baby. “Follow me,” he said, crawling back into the tunnel they had dug. The mother took hold of the unconscious blond man and began dragging him.

A cold dread settled in Bess’s gut. Everyone was going to get out, except her. If she moved, the building would fall, and the tunnel would collapse on them. I have to stay behind.

The janitor was the only one who reached the same conclusion. He put his hands on her face and his forehead against hers. “Thank you,” he said. She nodded, her lip trembling. He crawled out of the tunnel behind the crew.

She was alone.

“Good work, Phoenix,” Bruce’s voice rang in her ear after a few minutes. “All the survivors are out of the building.” His voice was so calm, so reassuring. She wanted to see him again, to feel safe, to hide behind his cape like a scared child.

“I don’t wanna die,” she whimpered, unable to stop herself.

“You’re not going to die,” Bruce said, calm as ever.

“Fuck!” The building shifted again, and Bess was forced down onto one knee before it settled. “I am going to die!” She shouted, gasping for air. “I can’t breathe! This building is going to collapse on me! I’m going to be buried!” Panic clutched at her heart.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” A new voice reached her, and she realized it wasn’t through the radio. She opened her eyes to see a man in a bright red suit crawling towards her, through the little space there was left.

“Flash?” She was surprised. “What are you doing here?”

The Flash had a cheeky grin on his face. “I’m here for you, kid. Batman said you were in trouble, I came to help. You’ve done good work here, now let someone else do the rescuing.”

Relief washed over Bess, and she couldn’t stop herself from breaking down. Her tears left ashy streaks down the soot on her face, washing the gray away and revealing the brown underneath. They evaporated by the time they reached her chin.

“On the count of three, you’re going to relax and let go of that building, okay?” Flash instructed. “I won’t be able to pull you out of here if you’re resisting, so you have to let it go.”

Bess nodded quickly. Fear gripped her gut, but if Batman trusted Flash, she did too. “One.” At his count, she took a deep breath, looking up nervously at the steel beam she held everything on. “Two.” She closed her eyes tightly once again.

“Three.”

She let go.

Next thing she knew, she was on her back on hot asphalt, gasping for air. Dust and smoke filled her lungs as the building collapsed entirely. Flash stood next to her, shouting for help. A paramedic ran in their direction. The medic knelt beside her, shoving something into her face. She briefly resisted, scrambling away in a hazy panic, until Flash knelt too. “Let them help you, Phoenix,” he said. Her heartbeat raged in her ears, drowning out most other sounds.

Something cold touched her face. She opened her eyes to see the mother she had rescued. Such a gentle expression, and briefly, Bess felt loved.

The janitor knelt beside the mother, offering a calloused hand, weathered with age. Bess took it, pressing her fingers into the rough palm offered to her. Her panic began to subside.

She leaned her head forward, and let the paramedic put the mask on her. She took a deep breath of cold oxygen. It felt amazing, being able to take a full breath again. She began coughing, her lungs forcing thick black residue out of her mouth and nose. Her throat burned, but it was getting better. Her body ached and trembled uncontrollably.

“I’m proud of you, Phoenix,” a familiar gruff voice rang in her ear. She realized it was Bruce. She nodded, despite the fact that he spoke over the radio.

The mother sat next to her, rubbing her back as she struggled to breathe. “You saved us,” she said, barely loud enough to hear. “You saved my little boy.”

A chill washed over Bess, and her eyes flew open. She looked up and around, feeling like danger was looming over her. “What’s wrong?” Flash asked, offering her water. She ignored it, ripping the mask off of her face and forcing herself to her feet.

“Easy there,” the janitor stood with her, putting his hands up in a soothing gesture. “You’re alright now.”

She spotted what she was looking for. Through the smoke billowing out of the collapsed building, she saw a pair of bright red lights. Flash followed her gaze, and saw the same thing. “Shit,” he said, his shoulders tensing. “Tell me that’s not big blue.”

Superman loomed over them, emerging from the smoke like a demon from hell. When he got close enough, Bess could see the green haze over his eyes. “Poison Ivy’s got him,” she told Flash.

“Any ideas?” Flash asked, taking a half step back as Superman came closer. Superman’s expression could have been carved from stone; he looked so empty and still. His eyes bored into Bess’s, and she felt like a nuclear missile was aimed right at her.

“We have to buy Batman some time,” Bess said through trembling lips. “I can get his attention, but we need to get away from these people.”

“Phoenix,” Flash glanced at her, “you just-”

Superman attacked without warning. Flash was fast enough to dodge the hit aimed at him. “Run!” Bess shouted to the civilians around her. Superman’s head snapped towards her, and she had to force herself to stand her ground.

I can’t fight Superman! She thought, fighting off panic.

I have to, she told herself, clenching her clattering teeth together.

She barely had time to lift her arms when his fist flew out towards her. The blow sent her flying backwards, and she felt like the bones in her arms had cracked. She grunted as her back hit the asphalt, and she slid. The cloth of her suit held up well, protecting her from horrible road rash. She struggled to her feet, flexing her fingers.

He’d never hit her that hard before. Even during training, when he knocked her into walls, he always held back. Even now, she could tell he was holding back. She knew what he was capable of, and in this moment it terrified her, but it also provided a little glimmer of hope. If he was holding back, then Clark was still in there, fighting against the control Poison Ivy had over him.

“Come on, Superman,” she growled, shaking out her arms. “You can do better than that.”

Bess saw the slightest twitch of the corner of his mouth twitch, breaking the stony expression for the briefest fraction of a second. It was enough for her. “Are you really going to let this woman walk all over you?” She asked him, walking backwards down the road as people fled in the other direction.

She tilted her head and said, “I thought the only woman who could walk all over you was Lois. She’s going to be pissed.”

Superman flew at her again. She couldn’t process his speed, and this time, his fist connected with her jaw. One moment she was standing, the next, she was face-down on the road, trying to remember where she was. She spat out the blood pooling in her mouth. Her strength did offer her some resistance, but she was nothing compared to Superman.

“Phoenix! Can you hear me?” A desperate voice rattled around in her head. She couldn’t tell who it was. A bright red boot nudged her hip, rolling her onto her back. “Damn,” she grunted, “give me a minute.” The blue figure towering over her was blurry.

“It’s not like you to hit a lady,” she managed, trying to sit up. Her head was spinning. Her lungs still burned, and every breath felt like a thousand shards of glass in her throat. Hands of steel wrapped around her throat, and she whimpered as Superman lifted her off the ground. Her legs kicked, and she struggled to bring a coherent thought together.

“Phoenix!”

Tim.

The voice was real, not in her head and not in her ear. She opened her eyes and saw a red blur down the street, running towards them. Superman’s head turned slightly, and he let go of her throat. Her feet hit the ground, and her legs crumpled. She fell to her hands and knees, gasping.

What a shitty day.

She lifted her head, blinking quickly to try to clear her vision. Superman was staring down Robin, who had his bo staff out in front of him.

“Phoenix,” her radio rang out. “It’s Batman.  Nightwing has been pulled back to Bludhaven; Ivy has engaged in multiple attacks. Flash is evacuating civilians from the area. I need you to help Robin until I can get to you. I’m three minutes out with kryptonite.”

“Kryptonite?” Bess croaked out the question.

“I don’t have a choice,” Batman’s voice was as calm as ever. “If Superman catches Robin, he’ll die. I need you to get up. You’re the only one in range who stands a chance. Use all of your abilities. He can take it.”

He’ll kill Tim.

White hot rage flooded through Bess, and she felt renewed. She got to her feet. The road melted underneath her as she burned hot. The light emitting from her was blinding, and gradually turned from white to blue.

There were no thoughts, only that feeling. She opened her mouth and screamed. She scrambled forward, reaching out towards Superman, who turned towards her. She was vaguely aware of Tim lifting his arm to cover his face. Something felt like it was dripping in her ear, and she shook her head to clear it. New strength crushed the ground beneath her as she drove her shoulder into Superman’s gut.

His foot slipped back a bit, and she felt hands grip her shoulders with crushing strength. Her bones crumbled beneath his fingers. The pain fueled her rage, and she burned hotter. She wrapped her arms around Superman and twisted her body, trying to throw him. While she couldn’t force him to the ground, he did stumble to the side, and it was enough for her to dig in and push harder. A fist collided with her back, but she didn’t feel the pain, even as her legs buckled.

She was barely aware that the ground was no longer beneath her. She gripped Superman tightly as he rose into the air. She could smell burning cloth.

She let go with one arm and punched the ribs in front of her face. Superman retaliated, bringing his elbow down on her shoulders. Her grip slipped, and she fell. He dove after her, catching her by the shoulders and forcing her down faster. Subconsciously, she braced for impact with the ground.

She didn’t hit the ground. She hit the Delaware Bay. Water began boiling around her, and she felt cold. She thrashed and fought, but impossibly strong hands held her shoulders down, forcing her deeper into the water. When she opened her mouth to scream, water rushed in, and panic seized her. She clawed at the arms holding her down, but they held firm.

Darkness threatened to swallow her. It pressed in at the edges of her vision, and seemed to have a grip on her mind. Gradually, she stopped thrashing, and awareness left her. Darkness consumed her. It felt like a hug from an old friend.

Chapter Text

Tim raced through the streets, his lungs screaming for air as he sprinted. He used his grapple to pull himself forward until he finally reached the bay at the edge of Metropolis. He scanned the water desperately, using the infrared vision on his goggles to search for Bess. She’d been burning so hot she was violet, and he’d been burned over 50 feet away. Now, he could find no trace of that formidable heat.

His heart leapt into his throat when he spotted bright blue and red against the darker waters of the bay. Superman was rising out of the water, his suit burned in places. In his hands, Bess dangled by her hair. She wasn’t moving.

No.

Superman flew towards the dock slowly, menacingly, not even bothering to look at Tim. Tim felt like he was encased in ice. He couldn’t move; he only watched as the Man of Steel hauled his best friend out of the bay. Superman tossed her as if she were a doll. She landed on the wood of the docks below.

According to his HUD, her heart was still beating.

Tim broke out of his stupor and jumped over the railing, down to the docks, trying to get to her. Superman caught him by his cape and flung him like a bug into the water. He struggled to the surface, trying to swim towards them.

Superman stepped on Bess’s stomach, and a surge of brackish water gurgled out of her mouth. She began coughing, much to Tim’s relief. He didn’t kill her.

“He didn’t kill her,” he repeated the thought to anyone who might be listening on the radio. He shot his grapple at the edge of the dock, using it to pull himself closer. “I’m twenty seconds out,” Batman said in response, and Tim could hear the approaching Batwing.

It isn’t going to be fast enough, Tim thought, watching with growing horror as Superman hauled Bess to her feet. Her mask was shattered and half gone. Blood and seawater were trickling from her mouth, and her head lolled back.

Superman had her by the front of her costume, and his other hand was gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at him. Tim's fingers touched the wood of the dock. He hauled himself out of the water. He looked down for a split second to retrieve a batarang from his utility belt. When he looked up again, he could scarcely believe what he was seeing. 

Superman was kissing Bess. Her eyes were wide with fear.

Time seemed to slow down around them. Tim's growing horror mingled with the confusion and revulsion. After what felt like an eternity, but what was likely only a couple seconds, Superman dropped Bess. She rolled over on the dock, gasping for air, and her eyes met Tim’s. She opened her mouth, reaching towards him. Her voice sounded more like tv static than an actual voice, as if her throat was full of sand. She only managed to choke out one word.

“Virus!”

She slumped forward, hand still outstretched on the dock in front of her, and didn’t move again. Tim hauled himself out of the water, trying to get to her. A foot connected harshly with his ribs and sent him tumbling over the side of the docks. It was a hard kick, but not hard enough to break his ribs. He hadn't even seen it coming. 

Superman’s holding back, Tim thought. There was some hope in that, at least. A shockwave rolled over him. By the time Tim got onto the dock again, both Superman and Bess were gone. The shockwave was a sonic boom caused by Superman flying away. He took Bess with him. He wasn't anywhere in sight, and it was anyone's guess where they'd gone.

It had all happened so fast, in about twenty seconds. Batman approached, only a few heartbeats too late, with a small box held tightly in his fist. "What happened?" He demanded. Tim could only shake his head. The shame burned almost as hot as the fury that threatened to boil over. He had failed.

“Virus?” Oracle asked. “That’s all she said?”

“It's Ivy's control pheromones,” Batman replied, his hands braced on the table. “We must assume Phoenix is compromised.” In front of him was the closed lead box containing the kryptonite he’d planned to use on Clark.

“How? Ivy wasn’t even there.” Oracle said, exasperated. The three of them were in the Batcave, recovering after the day’s disaster. Despite Tim’s best efforts, he wasn’t able to track Bess and Superman once they had vanished. It was likely that the heat Bess had produced during the fight had melted the tracking chip, the radio, and anything else not sufficiently fireproofed. It was amazing her clothes had survived.

“Maybe that’s what she meant,” Tim said, pacing back and forth with his arms crossed. “Maybe Ivy found a way to spread her influence without actually being the one to do it. I mean, I can’t think of any other reason Superman would kiss Phoenix.”

Batman nodded, standing straight. “I agree. It also would mean her formula has changed. That makes sense, considering Superman nearly drowned her, and still couldn’t break free of Ivy’s influence. We’ll need to get a sample to make an antidote.”

“How are we going to get a sample when we don’t know where they are?!” Tim asked, his voice cracking and turning into a squeak. He cleared his throat, fighting off a wave of embarrassment. He struggled to keep his shoulders away from his ears.

“We’ll find them.” Batman sounded so certain. His gaze hadn’t left the box on the table, despite him pacing around it.

“And the kryptonite?” Tim asked, gesturing to the box. “Are you really going to use it? You could kill him if you’re not careful.” He knew what Clark meant to Bruce.

Batman’s fingers gripped the edge of the table hard enough to crack the plastic. Steely blue eyes locked with Tim’s, and the boy froze, despite knowing Bruce’s wrath was not focused on him. Batman’s voice was unwavering, and unnervingly calm. “I will not lose another child, Tim.”

Silence consumed them, broken only by the dripping sound of water in the Batcave. Barbara broke it, awkwardly clearing her throat. “I may know where they’re at,” she said, and made an open gesture towards the Batcomputer. Tim and Bruce stood around it, on either side of her wheelchair.

“With such a wide search range,” Barbara began, opening a tab of city maps, “it was hard to narrow down where they might be. My first thought was Metropolis, since that’s where everything happened, but we’ve connected Dr. Isley to incidents in Bludhaven and Gotham as well. I went to social media to find out if anyone had seen anything outside of the normal news feeds,” she clicked through a few screens until she pulled up a video.

It was a short clip, only a few seconds, but it told them all they needed to know. It showed the Gotham City Stadium from the outside, and a blue blur with something reflective flying over the outer walls and into the stadium. There was only one thing that fast and blue.

“Since the stadium is currently closed for construction, it would be the perfect location for Dr. Isley to hide. We don’t know if Phoenix is there, but its as good a place as any to start the search. It’s pretty likely, that Dr. Isley has sources of her new virus there.” Barbara said with a sense of finality.

“Good work,” Bruce praised, patting her shoulder once and turning around. “Wait,” Tim said, “before we go, we need some protection against the ‘virus’ and a way to get a sample of it.”

Bruce looked over his shoulder and said curtly, “I know,” as if it were obvious. Tim glanced at Barbara, who clarified, “we’ve done this before. There’s a wax that you can put on your lips that will protect you from Dr. Isley’s influence, and it will collect a sample for us.” As she spoke, Batman retrieved the substance.

“Tastes terrible,” Tim grumbled as he smeared the wax on. “You’re not supposed to eat it,” Barbara teased. Then she added, “once you have the sample, you’ll only have about an hour and a half to get back to the Batcave before the sample isn’t viable.”

“Were you guys really planning on going without me?” A new voice turned the heads of the three in the Batcave. Nightwing strolled in, with a gear bag slung over his shoulder. Batman scowled at him. “We agreed you would stay in Bludhaven,” he said.

“Sure,” Dick replied, unphased by Bruce’s disapproval. “But do you really think I’m going to sit tight over there while Phoenix is in trouble?” He ignored Batman’s glare and sauntered over to Barbara. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then helped himself to the protective wax.

Bruce’s weary sigh was enough for Tim to know that Dick would indeed be joining them. It brought a small, sly smile to his face.

“Remember, boys,” Barbara caught their attention. “This is a specimen retrieval mission only . Don’t get suckered into a fight you can’t win.”

“We’ve outmaneuvered Superman before,” Dick assured her. She frowned slightly and said, “you and I both know that he’s not the only problem here.” Dick knelt in front of her and said sincerely, “I know. We’ll find a way to get her back.”

“You’d better,” was her only response.

Chapter Text

Dick counted his heartbeats, trying to get them to slow. It wasn’t like him to be nervous, but perched above the nosebleeds of Gotham Stadium, he found that he was. Of course, he had to get that under control. Nerves cause mistakes, and he couldn’t afford mistakes. Not this time.

“Is everyone in position?” Batman asked over the radio. Dick nodded, then remembered he wasn’t visible. “Nightwing is in position,” he confirmed. "Red Robin, in position," Tim said. The three of them had taken positions in a triangle above the stadium. At Batman’s signal, they synched their scanning tech, providing all three of them with an accurate scan of the stadium, and everyone in it.

There were a few guards in the higher stadium seats, but the bulk was concentrated down below, among the construction of the lower stadium. The fake grass had been ripped up; they were building a series of rooms beneath the stadium for locker rooms and the like. The current state of it was a maze of dirt piles and concrete, half-finished. It was the perfect place for a villain to hide. However, none of the people here had firearms, only what appeared to be knives and baseball bats.

It said something about Ivy’s plans. She didn’t plan to be here for long, unless she planned to hold the stadium hostage, but that didn’t seem like her usual M.O. Nightwing frowned thoughtfully; Ivy must be planning to move soon.

“Do you see Phoenix?” Red Robin’s voice reached his ear. Nightwing searched the heat signatures. “Yes-” he began, but Batman cut him off. “She’s in front of a sealed container, it looks like its made of a lead alloy. It’s next to the excavator. Vitals show she’s in poor condition, but stable.”

“I have eyes on Superman,” Red Robin said, and a mark came up on the HUD. “Primary threats marked,” Batman said, then, “it appears that Poison Ivy is not here. Oracle, keep the Batdrone overhead and let us know if that changes. I want radio silence, with the exception of contact with enemy forces. Remember, we’re not here to fight, we’re here to get a sample. Follow the plan. Understand?”

A chorus of ‘copy that’ rang out, and the line fell silent. Nightwing took a deep breath. His job was to approach Bess for a sample, as he seemed to be the most likely to get one from her, and the least likely to be killed by her. Batman was going to keep tabs on Superman, and Red Robin was to search for the source. The large lead box seemed to be a good spot to start, but that was Tim’s mission. Nightwing had to focus on his own.

He grappled down the stadium, slipping past the zombie-like guards with ease. It was almost too easy. Not that mind-controlled zombies were particulalry smart or alert, but he had expected more. It made him suspicious. He perched on top of one of the cranes there, looking down at the crowds of guards below.

Bess was in terrible condition. Even with the distance, he could see the various wounds, the way she held herself gingerly, and he could hear her ragged, strained breathing. Even the way she stood gave away how much pain she was in: slightly hunched over, with one arm wrapped around her ribs. That’s what happens when you’re on the wrong end of a Superman, Nightwing thought.

She was by herself, standing next to that lead box. How odd, to have such an object, especially when Superman was already under control. Nightwing suspected that whatever was in it was important. Why else would Phoenix be guarding it for Ivy? There was a possibility that it was a red herring, but that seemed unlikely.

Red Robin seemed to have similar thoughts. Nightwing watched his heat signature approach, dropping down behind the box. The gravel beneath his feet crunched. Nightwing saw Phoenix stiffen, and turn her head. Shit, she heard him. It was time to act.

“Contact,” he muttered into the radio, then dropped down onto Phoenix’s shoulders. She let out a strangled cry, shying away from him. He wrapped his legs around her neck, muffling her cry and hoping to cut off a louder shout for reinforcements. He had to take her down fast, or he wouldn’t stand a chance, and neither would Red Robin. Even with as wounded as she was, Phoenix was a force to be reckoned with.

Phoenix’s fingers dug into his thighs hard enough to make him wince, drawing a hissing breath through his teeth. He could have sworn that his body armor dented under her fingertips. He tried to jump away, but she was holding on to him, rather than trying to throw him off. She staggered backwards and rammed him into the lead box. The blow reverberated through his spine. He shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears.

“Phoenix,” he whispered loudly. “It’s me, it’s Nightwing. Snap out of it!”

She did not snap out of it. She took hold of his ankles and pried him off, as easily as if he were a bug. She flung him by his ankles into the ground. He hit the gravel with a grunt, rolling until he put out an arm to stop himself. He looked up at her, expecting her to call out, but she glared down at him silently. The tell-tale sheen of green over her eyes told him that she was being controlled, but perhaps she was fighting it? Or maybe she wasn’t capable of giving anything more than the wheezy cry he’d gotten upon contact. There was also the possibility that she didn't think she needed backup.

She stomped towards him, each step causing the gravel around them to bounce. It was an intimidation tactic. He pretended like it worked. He scooted backwards and put his hands up, feigning injury. “Easy there, big girl,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. “I know I can’t take you.”

She didn’t answer. His hope was that she would try to kiss him and pass along the virus. It seemed like she would when she grabbed the front of his uniform and hauled him up, holding him about a foot off the ground. He tried not to think that it was arousing. He took hold of her wrists, trying to take some of the pressure off his collar bones. “Come on, Phoenix, I’m sure we can work this out,” he whispered, trying not to alert anyone else, though he suspected that anyone nearby would have heard his impact with the box and the ground. A quick glance around told him that no one was coming. In fact, it seemed to him that the other thralls had cleared the area in a wide circle around them. That set Nightwing on edge. It felt too much like a trap.

“Contact,” he heard Batman’s voice in his ear. He could hear the sounds of Batman’s fight with Superman. Considering Batman hadn’t planned to fight, it was a poor sign. Nightwing had to work fast.

He acted like he was struggling against Bess’s grasp, his fingers pulling at hers. “Come on, pretty woman,” he purred in his best seductive voice. It wasn't very effective with her knuckles digging into his throat. “We don’t need to fight,” he wheezed.

Bess pulled him closer to her face, and his heart skipped a beat. A metallic smell washed over him. Bess paused, glancing down at his lips. Her nose crinkled and her eyebrows pulled together. She made an odd movement, moving her chin forward, then back again, as if she were fighting herself. Nightwing held his breath.

She let out a frustrated grunt, and dropped him. He leapt to his feet and took a few steps back, out of her reach. She rubbed a hand over her face, then huffed. Her gaze settled on him once more, and whatever internal fight she’d had seemed to resolve. Nightwing got the distinct sense that he was in trouble as she took a threatening step towards him.

She hadn’t tried to kiss him. It was mildly disappointing, but no plan survives first contact with the enemy. He would just have to do it himself.

He darted towards her, hoping to surprise her. Much to his chagrin, she put a hand over her mouth. Damn, she figured it out. Her other hand struck out in a punch that he barely dodged. He heard the hiss of air past his ear. He grabbed the extended wrist and dropped his weight. He surprised her; she went down with him. He planted his feet against her abdomen and rolled, tossing her over his head. He took the opportunity to stick a small tracker on her, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She hit the ground with an audible thud. Nightwing heard the air force its way out of her lungs. She paused to regain her senses, her eyes screwed shut in a pained expression.

He raced to get to her while she was still on the ground. He scrambled over her, straddling her waist, and took her face in his hands. Her fingers clamped around his wrists. He leaned down, but she turned her head and rolled, pinning him beneath her. He gulped, his mind racing for a solution. He couldn’t overpower her with sheer force, that much was certain. He’d have to outsmart her.

A shadow flashed at the corner of his vision. A quick glance revealed the heat signature as Red Robin’s. Robin was crouched in the shadow of the lead box, facing them. A quick nod upwards, as if Robin was greeting him, was all Nightwing needed to know that the plan was changing.

Oh well. Shit happens.

Fortunately, Superman provided the necessary distraction. A large chunk of concrete was hurled through the air, and landed a few feet away. It was uncomfortably close, and sent up a spray of dust and gravel. Phoenix let go of Nightwing with one hand, putting her arm up to shield her eyes from the cloud of debris. Nightwing’s newly freed hand went for his utility belt. He palmed a small flash grenade. When Phoenix’s gaze turned back to him, he pulled the pin on it.

The flash blinded him as well, even with closed eyes. The concussive force hurt his ears. It was just too close to his head. He heard the whistle of Robin's grapple claw, and felt Phoenix's weight lift from his chest. When he could see again, though his vision was blurred, he looked up to see the thick wire wrapped around Phoenix’s chest, pulling her backwards.

Nightwing scrambled to his feet, hoping to take advantage of the restraint. However, he didn’t get the chance. Phoenix broke the wire in an impressive display of strength and grabbed the frayed end of it, hauling Robin towards her. He resisted, digging his heels into the dirt, but Phoenix dragged him forward effortlessly.

“Now, Nightwing!” Robin whispered loudly, straining to be heard while still not shouting. Phoenixshifted her attention to Nightwing for a brief second. It was enough. Nightwing tensed, making it seem like he was going to run forward. With Phoenix’s focus on him, Robin ran forward on silent feet. By the time Phoenix realized what was happening, it was too late. Robin took hold of her face and pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“We have the sample,” Nightwing said into the radio.

“Good. Evacuate.” Batman’s voice sounded mildly strained.

Robin darted back before Phoenix could get a hold of him. She looked furious. Robin threw down a smoke bomb, and the two used it to get out of her sight.

They regrouped outside of the stadium, and waited for Batman. There was a loud explosion, a large cloud of smoke, and Batman appeared before them. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly, and the three fled the scene.

Barbara met them in the Batcave, holding up a cotton swab. She looked to Nightwing, who shook his head and gestured to Tim. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she didn’t react otherwise.

Tim bent over, allowing her to get the sample from his lips. He looked pleased with himself. After carefully removing the remaining wax from his lips, he tapped Barbara’s shoulder and held out a small vial with what appeared to be a red and green mushroom in it.

“What’s this?” Barbara asked.

“Fungi like these were inside that lead box,” Tim explained. “I suspect they’re the source of Dr. Isley’s new formula. I destroyed the rest, but she may have more of it.”

Barbara took the vial with a face of wonder. “Fascinating,” she said.

“Wait,” Dick cut in. “If you had this sample, why did you get a sample from Phoenix?”

The corner of Tim’s mouth twitched slightly. He replied coolly, “in case my hypothesis was wrong. Besides, you seemed to be having some difficulty obtaining the sample yourself. I have to hand it to you, though, Dick. You made a perfect distraction.”

That crafty son of a bitch, Dick thought to himself. He kissed Bess because he wanted to.

Despite the flush of anger that rushed through him, Dick found that he was also impressed. He also found that he couldn’t argue with Tim. It was a possibility that the fungus and the new formula were unrelated. Tim covered all his bases. Tim looked up at him with a completely innocent face, as if daring him to say something.

Maybe he was just looking too deep into it. Tim had only completed the mission, working with what was available when Dick failed. Dick shoved the thoughts out of his head.

“I also have a sample,” Batman said, distracting Dick. Barbara swabbed Bruce’s lips, and offered him the cleaning kit to get the rest off safely.

“You kissed Superman?” Dick asked, somewhat surprised that Batman had managed it.

“He didn’t put up a fight,” Bruce replied. “It would seem that Phoenix picked up on our plan, but Superman did not. Getting away from him was the hard part. It’s fortunate that I didn’t have to use the kryptonite.”

Barbara peered into the array of microscopes in front of her, then looked up to the readings on the screen. “All three samples match, once the DNA fragments from our subjects are removed,” she said, not bothering to look in their direction. “It will take me some time to synthesize a cure, but I should be able to. I can also make a vaccine.”

“That still doesn’t solve our problem,” Bruce said. He pulled his cowl back and wiped the sweat off his face. “We don’t know where Dr. Isley is. She wasn’t at the stadium. However, the presence of both Superman and Phoenix makes me think she isn’t far. The goons in other cities have also returned here, whether they were successful or not. She’s definitely in Gotham.”

“I put a tracker on Phoenix,” Dick said, gaining their attention. “One of the ones with a radio in it. If she talks to Ivy, we’ll know.”

“Good work,” Bruce said, then went to the Batcomputer. He pulled up the tracking information. Sure enough, Phoenix was moving through Gotham in a straight line, implying that she was flying. That suggested that Superman was with her.

“I’ll keep an eye on the tracker,” Bruce said. “It’ll take some time for Barbara to finish, so I want you two to rest up while you have the chance.” His tone left no room for argument.

Fate had other plans. Before they could leave, Ivy’s voice crackled over the tracker's radio feed. “I know you’re listening, Bats.” Her voice, sultry as ever, earned a deep scowl from Bruce.

“Let me tell you how its going to be,” the villainess said. “You either return the samples you stole to me by sunrise, or I return your little pet superhero in pieces. She’s so obedient, I bet she won't even mind. Don’t test me, Bats. If you do something silly, like try to mount a rescue effort, your big blue buddy here will happily turn her into a pancake. Come with the samples, and come alone.” There was a brief shriek of feedback, and the tracker went dead.

The leather of Bruce’s glove groaned audibly. Dick’s stomach sank like a rock.

“Oracle,” Batman said after a long period of silence. “Prioritize that vaccine. I need it before sunrise.”

Chapter Text

“Don’t tell me you’re actually giving in?” Dick’s shout was indignant as Bruce pocketed what was left of the small mushroom. Tim was inclined to agree; it seemed like a bad move to give Poison Ivy what she wanted.

“Stop and think about it, Dick,” Bruce said calmly, and gave Dick some silence. Dick scowled, and Tim could see the gears in his head shifting. Dick opened his mouth, then closed it again. “If she wants it back so badly,” he said after a moment, “then it has to be the only sample she has left.”

“And what does that mean for us?” Bruce asked patiently.

“We can use it as a bargaining chip,” Dick replied, understanding dawning on his face.

“If it’s the last sample,” Tim interjected, “shouldn’t we be keeping it far away from her?”

“It’s only the last sample of the original plant, not the fungal infection. We also don’t know how quickly the infection will wear off, or if it will at all,” Bruce explained. “Using the sample as a bargaining chip is currently our best bet in getting Clark and Bess back. Besides, we don’t have much of a choice. Judging by his previous actions, Clark may actually kill Bess if Dr. Isley orders him to. This new strain seems to be stronger than her previous mind control concoctions.”

Basically, they were losing, and this was a play of desperation.

“But you’re not going alone, right?” Tim asked worriedly.

Bruce shook his head. “No, you two are coming with me.”

“Infiltration?” Dick asked.

Bruce nodded and leveled them with a serious gaze. “You cannot be seen. If you are, Poison Ivy may kill Bess early. Your goal is reconnaissance. Find something to give us an edge. We have to win this fight before sunrise, and we have to do it quietly.”

Dick crossed his arms over his chest, chewing his cheek thoughtfully. Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. Dick asked plainly, “if we don’t find anything, will you save Bess? Even if it means Ivy wins?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. It was answer enough, and Dick’s face warped into a scowl in response. Tim was the first to shout. “What the fuck, Bruce?! We can’t let them have Bess!”

“We can rescue her at a later time,” Bruce began, but Tim kept yelling, thrusting a pointed finger towards Bruce. “Fuck that! Even if Ivy spares her, she won’t survive until a later time! Her lungs are fucked , not to mention Superman will kill her if Ivy tells him to.” He ran his fingers through his hair, clenching his teeth, with desperation flooding his voice. “You said yourself that you wouldn’t lose another child. Are you really going back on that?” His heartbeat was roaring in his ears as he glowered at Bruce.

Bruce took a deep breath, and spoke calmly. “It’s either that,” he started, “or Ivy wins. Superman continues to reign destruction down on humanity-”

Tim cut him off. “You don’t know that. She’s made no demands outside of the sample.”

“She doesn’t have to.” Bruce said, and gestured towards the Batcomputer. “It’s her pattern. She’s not interested in negotiation. She’d be more than happy to wipe out humanity for the sake of her plants. She’s tried before and she will try again. We cannot let her win, Tim, and we don’t know for sure that she will kill Bess if we don’t cooperate. Phoenix is too valuable an asset to get rid of, just to hurt us. I believe that Ivy is bluffing.”

“And what if she’s not?” Tim demanded, outraged.

“The mission comes first,” Dick spat the words out as if they had a sour taste to them, but he wasn’t arguing. Was he agreeing to sacrifice Bess for the greater good?

“Bruce is right,” Barbara added, rolling over to them. “If Dr. Isley succeeds, then Gotham isn’t the only place that will suffer. I love Bess too, and we will do everything we can to free her, but-”

“She’s already half dead!” Tim objected. “Dick, you saw her. You heard the way she was breathing. Superman beat the hell out of her, and nearly drowned her, and that’s after the fire injuries. She can’t tank that forever without medical attention. We need to get her out now. ”

Dick didn’t look at him, his fists curled so tight against his arms that the leather of his gloves groaned. “I know, Tim,” he said quietly, then looked up. “That’s why we can't fail.”

Well, shit, Tim thought with a scowl.

Bruce seemed satisfied, even if Tim wasn’t. “I suspect that Ivy isn’t working alone here,” Bruce began, pacing in front of the bat computer. “I agree,” said Barbara. “These samples are showing a level of bioengineering that doesn’t share commonalities with Dr. Isley’s typical work.” Barbara put a model of the chemical makeup of the samples on the screen. “It’s not quite as natural. There’s almost something… mechanical about it. Dr. Isley definitely had a hand in this, but she’s not the only one.”

Dick slumped down into one of the chairs, stretching his legs out in front of him and twirling a pen in his fingers. “If we can find out who she’s working with,” he began, and Tim finished his thought. “We could bring the whole operation down without a confrontation with Poison Ivy. Bess will live.”

“We have until sunrise,” Bruce said, agreeing with them. “How’s that vaccine coming?”

“Surprisingly well,” Barbara replied, gesturing to one of her custom machines. A green liquid was bubbling in a flask inside. “Whoever tampered with the sample made mistakes. It’s rather basic work, if you ask me. They clearly weren’t expecting anyone to get their hands on it. I should have a vaccine within the next hour. I’ll have a cure ready, too, but only enough for one dose. The time it takes for synthesis won't produce more than that before you need to leave.”

“Better than nothing,” Tim said with a shrug.

Dick’s smile was disbelieving. “Something working to our advantage? Pinch me.”

Security around the office building Poison Ivy was inhabiting was far more intense than Tim had been expecting. Of course, Ivy’s zombies were everywhere, but they were easy enough to avoid. That wasn’t the problem. The big surprise was a platoon’s worth of armed security that didn’t seem to be under her control at all. They wore no insignia, just black body armor, and their weapons had the serial numbers filed off.

It confirmed Bruce’s hypothesis that Ivy wasn’t working alone. It also was a substantial pain in the ass. These guys were professionals, not just the thugs found around Gotham. They patrolled in groups of three, with very few opportunities to slip past them. Each floor was covered, and there was heavier security near one of the corner offices on the fifth floor. It was as good a place as any to start a search.

Red Robin crept along the crevices of the building until he was next to the window for the corner office. He peered up, squinting through the window. The room itself was empty, with heat signatures for seven guards outside in the hall.

Seven? This has to be a trap, Robin thought, and scanned the window for any sort of alarm. There was none, but the window was locked. Ha! As if that would keep me out.

Still, it seemed suspicious. Why would they have seven guards outside of a room, and none in it? Robin opened the window silently, then waited, listening and looking for any sort of response to the intrusion. After a minute of nothing happening, he wriggled inside the small window and looked around the room.

It was nothing special, a typical corner office of some kind of mid-level manager. The desk was real wood, but it looked cheaply made. It had a leather chair, a lamp, and a nameplate that read Calvin Rose. Robin made a mental note to look into the name later, though he doubted its importance. The room was otherwise empty. Nothing on the walls, no shelves, no other chairs, nothing.

The desk had two locked drawers. A quick scan revealed a small ink trap in one, simple but well hidden and nothing in the other. It was easy enough to disarm the ink trap. The drawer made a little noise as he opened it, and he froze. Fortunately, the guards outside were talking about their wives, their kids, and whatever else bored security talks about.

Clearly, they weren’t expecting trouble.

Inside was a photograph. Robin lifted it up to see it by the light of the window. It was a photo, printed on computer paper. It was of Poison Ivy with her back to the camera, standing next to someone in a white mask.

I was supposed to find this, Robin thought with a shudder. Someone wanted me to see this. He double checked the name on the nameplate of the desk.

It was blank.

No, that can’t be right. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, but there was nothing written on it. He put it back on the desk, and picked the lock of the other drawer. It was empty.

The photograph sent Robin into a spiral of tangent thoughts. Who wanted me to find this? Who is the masked person in this picture? Why are there seven guards outside of an empty room? Have they been paid off? Is Ivy being double crossed? Is this a red herring?

Why was it so easy to take Ivy’s only sample of fungus?

Too many questions rattled around in his head, but he got the distinct sense that Batman was walking into a bigger trap than he was prepared for. He folded the photo, put it in a plastic bag, and put it in his pocket. He double checked the room, found nothing else of importance, and slipped back out the window, closing it and locking it behind him.

There was a heat signature on the roof that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. Feeling jumpy, Robin decided to investigate. He grappled up, closing the distance of a few floors. He hung on the edge and peered over.

It was just one of the security guards taking a smoke break. By himself. He didn’t even have hands on his firearm. There’s no way this is going to be that easy, Robin thought to himself. The man had an elevated heart rate, which was odd, but perhaps this was his first job? Robin shimmied around the edge of the building until he was behind the man, then quickly knocked him out. Damn, it was that easy.

These guards really weren’t expecting anything. It was either that, or someone was playing them both. Robin hoped it was the former. He took the guard’s uniform, complete with a key badge, and left him cuffed on the roof. The uniform was a bit on the bigger side, but it meant that it fit nicely over his Red Robin suit. He kept his retracted bo staff in his palm and entered the building.

Just as he rounded the corner, he heard Batman’s voice over the radio. “Contact.”

Well, Shit.

Chapter Text

Poison Ivy’s plants seemed to stare down at Bruce, despite having no eyes. It was an unpleasant sensation, to be watched by a plant. The greenery turned towards him as he walked by, following a guard down the tunnel towards where Ivy waited for him.

The guard wasn’t a zombie. It seemed like a deliberate choice, having a mercenary meet him outside. Ivy wanted him to know that she wasn’t working alone. Who was her benefactor? Why had she agreed to work with them? Why would she let them tamper with her precious plants? A new strain of control spore didn’t seem to be reason enough. This case seemed to keep expanding.

“Batman,” Ivy’s sultry voice greeted him well before he saw her. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

He saw her then, sitting on a throne of vines. Little purple flowers dotted the space around her. Superman stood to the left of her, and Phoenix to the right.

Tim was right, Bruce thought. She looks terrible. He tried not to let the worry settle into his gut. He needed to be focused. This was most certainly a trap, and he needed to control the situation before that happened.

“I have the sample, Ivy,” Batman said, adding a little extra growl to his baritone voice. He wanted her to know that he wasn’t happy.

Ivy delicately extended her hand. Batman shook his head. “First, you tell me who you’re working with.”

Ivy let out a short laugh. “You can’t be serious. You’re not exactly in a position to bargain here.” She emphasized her point by gesturing to Phoenix. Superman’s gaze followed the movement. It was a warning. I will kill your sidekick if you don’t play nice. Bruce’s fingers itched to reach into a pouch on his utility belt, but he refrained. If he played his hand too soon, he would lose his only chance.

“Why is this sample so important?” Batman asked, holding up the test tube with the little mushroom cap in it. Ivy had a visible reaction, leaning in and locking her gaze on the glass. Batman prodded, “can’t you make more?”

Ivy looked insulted, wrinkling her nose and curling her lip up. “Of course I can,” she snapped. She can’t. Whatever process had been used to manipulate the spore was something she couldn’t replicate. Given that she could interfere with plant biology at the molecular level, it raised more questions. His first thought was magic. Magic wasn’t something Ivy had ever messed with before. What made her change her mind?

Superman took a half step forward. If it had actually been Clark, he would have paid more attention, but with Ivy pulling the strings, he saw it for what it was: a feeble attempt to intimidate him. She was impatient to get her hands on the sample, and was starting to overplay her hand.

She was desperate.

If losing it was so detrimental, why had it been left so unguarded? Why hadn’t she been with it? Why did she only have one source of it?

The only possible answer was that she didn’t. Dr. Isley was a smart woman, and often had contingencies. Something had happened that had destroyed the other fungi colonies, likely just before Tim had found the last one. Either that, or she truly hadn’t expected them to win their confrontation with Superman and Phoenix, which was simply implausible. Of course they were going to win.

“Hand it over, Batman,” Ivy’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. Her hand was less elegant and more desperate, with tension around the curled fingers. Almost a grasping motion. “I’m clearly not going anywhere,” he said calmly. “Why the rush?”

Her eye twitched, and the corners of her lips tightened.

“Is someone threatening you, Ivy?” He asked the question casually. Ivy flashed her teeth in an expression of frustration, and thrust herself to her feet. “Give it to me NOW, or I’ll kill your precious girl myself!” She grabbed Bess by the shoulder and pulled her in harshly, causing Bess to stumble. Two thorny vines pointed towards Bess’s throat. One of them drew a drop of blood. Bess looked uncomfortable, but didn’t resist.

“She must be important to you,” Ivy teased, “like all the other little rats that follow you around. Tell me, Batman, what would you do to get her back? Or will you let her die as well?” He could see the cracks in her façade, despite the jab. Still, he believed she would hurt Bess if she didn’t get what she wanted. He had a choice to make. He could hand over the sample and hope to get close enough to administer the cure to Bess, or he could administer it to Clark and hope that it worked quickly. Barbara didn’t have specifics on how long it would take the cure to work, since they hadn’t had time to test it out.

He could only save one of them, and hope that he could save the other later. He had one dose of the cure, one chance. His daughter, or the man he loved?

Superman was the logical choice. His abilities far outpaced Phoenix’s, and he could definitely take down Poison Ivy once he was free of her control. With him back in play, the fight was as good as theirs. Superman may even have insight on who Ivy was working with.

On the other hand, that would mean leaving Bess with Ivy, and Bess was running out of time. Even now, he could hear her labored breathing. Ivy might kill her on principle if he cured Superman.

Bruce closed his eyes for a brief second, steeling himself.

The mission comes first.

“Contact,” he said over the radio.

“What?” Ivy asked sharply, confused.

Batman popped open the capsule on his utility belt, and blew a handful of powder in Superman’s face. Superman stumbled back, his hand coming up to his face, but it was too late. The cure had been administered. Superman dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

Ivy let out a hiss of frustration, and yanked Bess’s head back by her hair, exposing her throat. Batman held up her precious sample before he even realized what he was doing. He held it out to her as a peace offering. “Here,” he said quietly. “A trade.” The sample in exchange for her life. Don’t kill her, he silently begged.

One of Ivy’s plants plucked the sample from his hand. Ivy’s smile turned wicked. “You really think that I’ll just ignore that little stunt, Batman?” Vines wrapped around Bess and yanked her upwards and into a tangle of plants, out of his view. Still, she was alive, and that was a little victory.

“Kill him,” Ivy ordered, waving her hand. The guard that had escorted him in raised the muzzle of his gun and aimed it at Batman. Batman dropped a smoke bomb, and dropped to the ground. Gunfire rang out, but the bullets flew over his head. He crawled over Superman and used his grapnel to haul them out of the line of fire. He hoisted the heavy man over his shoulder and ran back out the way they had come.

“Tracker online,” Barbara’s voice said in his ear. “Audio feeds online.” A slight smile crossed over Bruce’s face as he ran. He could hear the sounds of several people giving chase, and bullets whizzed by his ear.

The cool night air felt like a blessing as he emerged from the jungle. He grappled away to another building, hauling Superman over the rooftops until he was certain he was no longer being pursued.

He headed to the roof of the Falcone Shipping Yard building. On the off chance that Clark wasn’t cured or wasn’t coherent when he woke up, Bruce didn’t want him in the Batcave. Nightwing was waiting for him there, watching the sky lighten. It was only a few minutes before sunrise.

Nightwing saw him. Batman laid Superman down, and turned to Nightwing. “Did you find anything?”

“Where is Phoenix?” Nightwing asked, ignoring Bruce’s question.

“She’s safe,” Bruce answered.

“And by safe, you mean not dead, but still with Ivy. What about the sample?”

Bruce replied, “that’s why she’s safe. Ivy has the sample.”

Dick looked surprised. “You actually gave her the sample?”

“It was the only way to save Phoenix, and I’m not planning to sacrifice her life. The tube has a tracker on it. It may provide new leads.”

“Did you plan that?” Dick asked, crossing his arms.

“No, but I was prepared for it,” Bruce answered honestly. “Now, what did you find?”

Nightwing shrugged. “Not much. The rest of the building was heavily guarded, and not by Ivy’s zombies. She’s definitely working for someone, but I couldn’t find out who. I did see several flamethrowers though. She’s likely being coerced.”

“I came to the same conclusion,” Batman said, nodding thoughtfully. “She reacted when I asked if she was being threatened.” He took a step towards Nightwing. “You didn’t find anything else?”

“I did,” Tim’s voice came from behind him as the boy landed on the roof. He held out a piece of paper with a photograph on it. Bruce took it from him, examining the photograph. It was grainy, printed on computer paper. The picture contained Ivy, and someone with a white mask. There was something vaguely familiar about the mask, but Bruce couldn’t put a finger on it. However, it was solid evidence that Ivy wasn’t acting alone, and a possible lead on who was working with her.

“Good work,” Bruce said, folding the picture and putting it in an evidence bag. “Did you find anything else?”

“Yeah, a name. Calvin Rose. Also, the room I got this picture from was suspicious. Someone wanted me to find it.”

Calvin Rose. The name was unfamiliar. The Batcomputer didn’t come up with anything. It was either an alias, or someone not on public record.

“Calvin Rose?” Dick asked. “The escape artist?”

“You know him?” Bruce asked.

Dick nodded and explained, “he was in the same circus I was, a long time ago. He left without warning. I haven’t heard anything about him since then.”

Bruce frowned. If that was the case, then Calvin Rose had intentionally been erased from public record.

“Where’s Phoenix?” Tim asked. Bruce responded, “still with Ivy, but she’s alive.” Tim scowled. Bruce put a hand up in a patting motion. “I only had one dose of the cure,” he explained.

“Superman is the greater asset,” Nightwing added. “With him, we have a better chance of ending this fight and saving Phoenix. I would have done the same.”

Tim didn’t argue, but he didn’t look pleased.

Superman began to stir. Batman knelt next to him, ready to respond if things went poorly. Clark opened his eyes, blinking at the early morning sun. He let out a groan and rubbed his head. “What happened?” He asked, looking up at Bruce. A wave of relief washed over Bruce. He hadn’t been looking forward to another fight.

“Let’s get back to the Batcave,” Tim suggested. “We can explain from there.”

Clark nodded, and let Bruce help him to his feet. Dick and Tim grappled away from the building. Clark put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “You didn’t save Phoenix,” he asked, somewhat surprised.

“You were the greater asset,” Batman replied, not meeting his gaze.

“Bruce,” Clark said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Clark. We’ll get her back.” We will get her back, he tried to assure himself, but he wasn’t sure if he believed it. I traded my daughter for Clark. He locked the guilt and doubt away in his mind. Now wasn’t the time. Clark would help him get his daughter back. Clark could do anything. Bruce had made the right decision.

Right?

Chapter Text

Tim wrinkled his nose at the little granules that had settled in the bottom of his coffee. He hated that last grainy sip, but he always forgot that he did before he drank it. He put the mug back under the coffee maker and set it to make more. He loved the smell of fresh coffee, and it was strong that morning. It had been roughly two days since he’d slept at all, longer since he’d slept well, which wasn’t entirely unusual for him.

Calvin Rose. The name haunted him. Even the circus records had completely erased him. If it weren’t for Dick, they wouldn’t know anything about him at all. There were no leads to track, and it was driving Tim crazy. Calvin Rose had become his project, while he waited for Bruce and Clark to finish their research on the photo of the white mask.

It had been nearly a week since Batman had confronted Ivy. Clark had remembered very little about his time as Ivy’s thrall. He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten infected. He did, however, vaguely recognize the white mask, and connected it with some of the architecture in Old Gotham, though they were having trouble pinpointing the exact location.

There was a knock on the door. “Mr. Drake?” Tam, his secretary and close friend, could be heard through the door. “Come in,” he called out. She opened the door, and behind her was Barbara. His features softened upon seeing them.

“Tim,” Barbara began, rolling into the room. “Nice view,” she commented, looking out over the Gotham skyline. Tim shrugged. “Being CEO has its advantages.”

She set a box on his desk. It was a box of donuts, by the smell. He opened it eagerly. “Happy Birthday Tim!” was written in red and blue icing over the tops of the donuts. A warm smile spread across his face. “Thanks, Barb,” he said, looking up at her. She had a concerned look. “Have you even slept?” She asked.

“Yes,” he lied, putting some sugar in the mug of fresh coffee.

“Tim.” Barbara said sternly.

“I’m a legal adult now, Barb, you can’t tell me what to do.” He said it jokingly, but he didn’t want to talk about his lack of sleep.

Barbara sighed heavily. “Alfred will be very disappointed if you fall asleep during dinner,” she scolded gently. The thought of dinner made his stomach clench, and for a brief moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Tim?” Barbara reached across the desk. Tim pulled his hand back. He closed the box of donuts. “Thanks, Barb, really,” he said, avoiding her gaze. His voice was strained.

“Look,” Barbara began, “I know you’re worried about Bess, but you’re still allowed to celebrate your birthday.”

“What’s the point? She won’t be there!” Tim hadn’t meant to shout, but his emotions were running away with him. The combination of stress and exhaustion were wearing him down. He slumped into his leather chair, his face in his hands. “How can I celebrate when I don’t even know if she’s alive?” He mumbled into his hands.

Barbara was beside him before he even realized. Even in a wheelchair, she was sneaky. A warm hand squeezed his shoulder. Tim let out a shuddering sigh, struggling to pull himself together. “Sorry, Barb,” he said quietly.

“You’re no good to her exhausted, Tim. You should really take a nap, at the very least.” Barbara urged him gently.

“I’m no good to her anyway!” Tim snapped, and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry, Barb,” he said, putting a hand on her knee. It was more to comfort himself than her.

“I get it,” Barbara said quietly. “She’s your best friend. It doesn’t feel right without her.”

Before Tim could reply, Tam knocked on the door again. “Mr. Drake, something’s arrived for you,” she said, holding up a plain white envelope. Tim raised an eyebrow. Normally, she opened his mail herself, filtering through it for him. When she crossed the room and handed it to him, he saw why. On the front was his name, in careful calligraphy. On the back was a sort of signature.

C. Rose.

The implications hit him like a train. Did Calvin Rose know who he was? Was he being set up for a trap? Had Batman been discovered? Was Bruce in danger? Did that mean they were all in danger?

He recognized that his tired mind was running away from him, so he took a deep breath and settled it. He opened the envelope, trying to hide the shake in his hands.

Inside was a photograph. It was a photograph of a catholic altar, decorated with gold treasures, and above it was a stained glass depiction of the Virgin Mary. “It’s Gotham Cathedral,” Tim said. He flipped the photo over in his hands. On the back, in hastily scrawled cursive, share a prayer with a sinner?

Tim practically leapt out of his chair. “Tam!” He shouted. “Clear my afternoon!”

Barbara reached out to stop him. “Tim, this could be a trap.”

“I’m aware, but it’s the only lead I have. I have to go, Barbara.” He chugged the coffee from the mug, spilling a few drops on his white shirt. He pulled on his suit jacket, and ran out of the office, despite Barbara’s protests. Tam had a car and driver waiting for him when he got out of the elevator at the bottom of the building.

The ride to the cathedral was a blur, his mind spinning the whole time. Would Calvin Rose really meet him? There was a high possibility that Tim was walking into a trap, but that was nothing new. His leg bounced with impatience at every red light.

When he finally got out of the car, the cathedral loomed over him, as if it were ready to reach down and snatch him up at any moment. When he went inside, the main hall was empty. Tim shoved down the disappointment, and told himself he just needed to be patient. His heart hammered in his chest, even as he walked down the aisle between pews. He picked one, a few rows from the front, and sat down. The harsh wood bit into his back, but catholic churches weren’t supposed to be comfortable.

He looked at the photograph again. Nothing had changed. Tim looked up at the altar in front of him. It was set the same way as it was in the picture. Mother Mary looked down at him warmly, her hands extended in a gesture of peace.

Tim hung his head. Just then, he heard a shuffling, and the pew creaked as someone sat next to him. His spine ran cold. The kneeling bar folded down, and the man knelt, his hands resting on the pew in front of him.

“Join me for a prayer?” A quiet voice reached his ears. Tim looked at the man, but a hood hid his face from view. Tim shifted forward, kneeling on the cushioned bar. A kneeler? A hassock? Tim wasn’t catholic, so he wasn’t sure. He folded his hands, mirroring the man.

They knelt in silence for a few minutes. With Tim’s impatience, it felt like hours, but he waited for the man to speak first. Finally, he did.

“I hear you’ve been looking for me,” Calvin Rose said quietly.

“How did you know it was me?” Tim asked. His voice seemed far too loud for the church, despite his best efforts to keep it low. Maybe it was the paranoia.

“Lucky guess.”

Fine then, keep your secrets, Tim thought, mildly amusing himself. “You took the photo of Ivy with the person in the mask,” he stated, hoping Calvin would offer up information on his own.

“I did.” Calvin replied. His long, thin fingers passed the beads of a rosary between them. Tim waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, Tim asked, “who are they?”

“Not interested in me?” There was humor to the man’s gentle voice. Tim lowered his head. “Of course I am,” he said, “but you must understand the situation I’m in.”

“I’m aware. I know where Phoenix is being held. After Batman’s little stunt with Ivy, Phoenix was deemed too important to remain in her care.”

Tim’s eagerness was palpable. “Where is she? Who has her?”

Calvin’s head turned slightly towards him. A brown mustache twitched slightly. “I was an escape artist,” Calvin began.

“For Haly’s circus,” Tim finished for him.

“You’ve gotten that far, I see,” Calvin said, turning away from him again.

“Yes. You know where Phoenix is?” Tim knew he was being pushy, but he couldn’t bring himself to care much.

Calvin let out a heavy sigh. It reminded Tim of his father. Calvin’s hands unfolded. One reached into his coat and retrieved an envelope. It had Tim’s name in the same script that the first had been. Tim took it, tucking it into his suit jacket. He knew better than to open it here.

“One more thing,” Tim said. “How did you know I was looking for Phoenix?”

“You were looking for me,” Calvin replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “I had a hunch. Lucky guess, like I said, and once you told me about the picture you found, I was certain.”

Tim swallowed thickly. Stupid move , he thought to himself.

Calvin seemed to know what he was thinking. He said, “don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.”

“How do I know that for sure?” Tim asked.

“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me,” Calvin replied. He stood. Tim remained where he was. Calvin left without another word. Tim waited a few minutes, then left the cathedral. In the car, on the way back, he opened the envelope. There was another picture inside.

It was a picture of a key. The key had an owl head. Under the key was another envelope with Tim’s name on it. Under the envelope was a familiar looking desk. Tim recognized it as his desk in his room at Wayne Manor.

Shit, Tim thought, folding the photo and putting it in his pocket. Bruce is not gonna like this.

Chapter Text

Barbara looked down at the small key in her hand with some amount of disdain. There wasn’t really anything special about the key itself. The head of the key was an owl, but it looked like it could have come from a home improvement store. It was made of a nickel-brass alloy, typical for modern house keys. It had no traces of DNA on it. It provided no leads on its own.

Bruce had been rather broody (more so than usual) when Tim presented it to them, and told them the story of his meeting with Calvin Rose. His mood was understandable. Someone had been in his house, gotten past all of his top-notch security, and left no trace other than the key and the envelope addressed to Tim. It was still unclear whether or not Calvin Rose knew their identities. Barbara hoped that he didn’t.

Tim’s envelope had another picture in it. Barbara felt sick when she saw it. It was an overhead view, likely from the rafters of whatever building it was. It was a hazy photo of a bunch of people in black robes and those white masks, all staring at something in the center. At first, the middle of the photo was unclear, as if it were taken from behind a sheet of mesh. However, in better light, it became clear that it was a photo of a woman with a burlap sack on her head, tied to a chair. Her shoulders were slumped, as if she were unconscious. The ragged costume she was wearing was easily recognizable. It was Phoenix.

Someone was standing behind her, much closer than all the rest, though dressed the same. Their hands were on Bess’s shoulders.

Each of the members of the Batfamily had a different reaction. Barbara hadn’t seen Tim’s initial reaction to the photo; he’d opened it without them. Still, she could see the way his face contorted when he looked at it again.

Dick turned away, putting a hand over his mouth. She could see his shoulders shake as he tried to get a hold of himself. He had never handled rage very well.

Alfred fidgeted with the keys on his belt, namely the one to the safe he kept his guns in. His mustache twitched slightly, on an otherwise neutral face.

Bruce immediately put the photo in the Batcomputer’s scanners, trying to identify anything they could use to find the location the photo was taken in. Barbara could see him trying to lose himself in the work, trying not to think about the fact that it was his daughter in the photo. She knew how he worked. If he could pretend that it was just another kidnapping case, he could keep a level head.

Clark looked so guilty when he saw the photo. Bruce had chosen him over her, and Barbara could tell that was bothering him. It was also his first glance at the wounds that he had inflicted under Ivy’s influence. The photo was too fuzzy to see clearly, but it was enough. Clark’s fists clenched tightly, and he took to pacing circles around the Batcave.

Barbara, of course, intentionally suppressed and ignored her own reaction. It wouldn’t help anyone to scream bloody murder for a few hours until she was hoarse. She opted for a reaction similar to Bruce’s, trying to identify the stone of the flooring underneath Bess’s feet. Maybe some hit of the architecture could lead them to the building.

By some miracle, it worked. It was the Gotham City Opera House, though not any part of it that Barbara had been to. Still, the unique stone used for the flooring was a match, and was unlikely to be anywhere else in Gotham. It made her think that Calvin Rose might actually be on their side, or at least, against the group that had Bess.

“I have a hunch,” Bruce said as they geared up to go. “The Court of Owls, Sir?” Alfred asked, taking his place next to Barbara in front of the Batcomputer.

“Yes. I believed that they were just a myth. I hadn’t found anything in my previous investigations, but this is undeniable evidence of them. It makes me wonder how Calvin is connected to them.” Bruce said as he put on his cowl.

“When we get there, we can ask them,” Tim said. He packed an alarming amount of explosives on his utility belt, but Barbara didn’t say anything. He was the most likely to keep a cool head.

“I don’t plan on chatting,” Dick growled, cracking his knuckles. Barbara was a little worried, but he knew Bruce would keep them all in line. Besides, Clark was going with them. The Court of Owls didn’t stand a chance against Superman.

Barbara ached to go with them. She knew her role was important, that Oracle was important, but right then, she didn’t feel it. She felt useless. She couldn’t storm in and save Bess. She had to rely on someone else to do it. She had to sit and watch while the boys ran out and saved the day, and she had to wait until they got back to hold Bess in her arms, if they even found her.

When they were gone, Alfred put a comforting hand on her shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. She put her hand over his, and leaned her head against his wrist. Together, they waited.

Chapter Text

Slow breaths, through your nose. Anything more, and you might give yourself away. Bruce’s voice bounced around Dick’s head, like it always did. Despite the screaming of his lungs for gulps of air, he kept his breathing controlled. He didn’t want clouds of condensation alerting anyone to his presence, and it was a cold night.

It was hard to keep his patience when he knew Bess was so close. He could feel her. He knew he’d find her tonight. He was bouncing on his feet, impatiently waiting for Batman's command to move in. Red Robin was doing a bit of reconnaissance. So far, he’d found a hidden entrance to a space beneath the opera house. They’d lost connection with him after that. Batman would give him a set amount of time before they went in after him.

Just as Dick checked his watch, Red Robin’s voice crackled in over the radio, with more interference than was expected. “Hey guys, you read me? It’s fucked down here. It looks like the place has been trashed. There’s piles of ashes around, still hot. No one’s here so far.”

Dick’s heart felt like a rock in his chest. “No one?” He asked, unable to stop the waver in his voice.

“No one,” Tim confirmed, “but I’ve only scratched the surface. She could still be here.”

As if they’d be that lucky.

Bruce’s voice, steady as ever, was a comfort. “We’re coming in, Robin. Keep moving forward; we’ll catch up. Superman, I want you to stay outside until we confirm that Phoenix is here. I don’t want to disturb the show if we don’t have to.”

“No problem. Stealth was never my strong suit.” Clark answered, and Dick could just see him hovering high above the opera house.

“Nightwing, move in,” Batman ordered.

That was enough for Dick. He hopped from roof to roof until he reached the opera house. There was a show on; people of all sorts, dressed to the nines, lined up outside the main entrance. Dick dropped down into the alleyway, out of their sight. It was easy enough to find a grate that led to the basement. The first basement, anyway. The one everyone knew was there.

Unlucky for him, the basement was occupied: actors and stagehands getting last-minute props for the show. It was agonizingly slow, but relatively easy to slip around them. He used the stage sets and props as hiding spots.

Tim had marked a spot on the Batcomputer map of the opera house. Dick reached it shortly after Bruce did. It was a little trap door that blended into the floorboards. In one of the swirls of the wood, there was a keyhole. Tim had already confirmed that the little owl key fit in it, and left it unlocked behind him.

Nightwing and Batman slipped through the trapdoor and closed it behind them. It was dark, dusty, and smokey underneath. It seemed to be just a crawlspace under the basement, until they got a little further along. It opened up into a large area, and with a dawning horror, Dick recognized the space from the photograph. It was empty, with the exception of some still-warm piles of ashes in the corners. A brief scan showed that it was just paper and wood ash. Did they burn documents? Dick wondered. It was a good sign that the Court knew they were coming.

Batman stood in the spot Bess had been in the photo, scowling down at the wood, as if he could intimidate it into changing. “Robin, what’s your position?” He asked, but all Dick heard from the radio was static. “Signal must be scrambled,” he commented, approaching Batman. “Look, you can see his footprints in the dust. Let’s follow them.”

The footprints led directly to a brick wall. The scrapes on the floor told them that the wall opened somehow. Batman scanned the nearby area, and found a hidden switch. The wall slid open with far more noise than Dick was comfortable with.

Out of the darkness, a throwing knife whizzed towards them. Batman caught it, mere inches from Dick’s face. As the light beyond reached their eyes, Dick’s sense of horror only grew.

Robin was there, fighting for his life against men in dark costumes that seemed to be owl-themed, with eerie green goggles. There were five of them, but Tim was holding his own. By the looks of his bloody nose, he’d already taken a few hits. He was favoring his right leg. Above them, Phoenix swung slightly in the air, suspended by thick chains around her wrists, with a yellowed lamp just above her. It cast an eerie shadow over the room as the only light source. Bess wasn’t moving.

Between them and Dick was a fence, then six more of the costumed people, and they were facing him and Batman. They didn’t move to attack yet. Their stances were odd, hunched and low to the ground, with their arms out to the sides. It vaguely reminded Dick of the League of Assassins, but it was distinctly new. They looked more like feral animals than trained assassins. To the left, a woman in a wheelchair, wearing one of those white masks. Another man in a mask stood behind her.

“I thought you might come for her,” the woman said calmly. She had the accent of the Gotham elite. Her voice was rough with age, but there was an undeniable grace in it. “When we learned of our lost talon’s indiscretion, we knew it wouldn’t be long. You want her back, Batman?”

Bruce took a half step forward. Dick could feel the rage emanating off of him. It almost overwhelmed his own fury.

Almost.

The woman clicked her tongue, as if chastising them. “Honestly, Batman, there’s no need to be such a brute. Let’s make a deal, like civilized people. You join the Court of Owls, and we’ll spare your children. Refuse, and the talons,” she gestured to the costumed fighters, “will kill them in front of you. We can do a lot of good for Gotham, Batman. You can do a lot of good. You just need a guiding hand.”

Batman attacked the talons without hesitation. Nightwing did the same, falling into the smooth rhythm of fighting together with ease. He and Bruce had been fighting together for nearly two decades now. They moved together like a well oiled machine, not even needing to speak to communicate their next moves.

Strange stances or not, the talons were obviously well-trained. Their strikes were vicious, and they were light on their feet. It was a tough fight, even between the two of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Nightwing noticed the masked woman and the man retreating into the shadows, but he couldn’t give chase without rescuing Bess and Tim.

Batman could. “Save them,” he ordered Dick, and dove out of the fight. Dick caught the arm of the talons that tried to chase Batman. Batman threw a smoke bomb behind them, and Dick used the distraction to take down a few of the talons. He hit them a little harder than he needed to, but he felt it was warranted. He was still outnumbered, and Robin was starting to lose. He made a break for the fence. If he could reach Robin, they could fight better together than they could alone.

The fence went from the floor to the ceiling, and from wall to wall, as far as Dick could tell. It wasn’t made of cheap aluminum, either. Despite looking like a regular chain link fence, his pliers couldn’t cut through it. He let out a grunt of frustration, squeezing the pliers with all his might, even as they bent around the tough metal. They just wouldn’t cut through. It would only be another heartbeat until he had to give up, to fight the talons bearing down on him. Come on, he prayed, cut through!

Fortunately, they didn’t have to. Superman crashed upward through the floor, and his heat vision made quick work of the fence. Dick realized at that moment that Batman’s command hadn’t been for him. Radio jamming wouldn’t stop Superman’s hearing.

Big Blue made quick work of the remaining talons. Only a few escaped, seeming to melt into the shadows. The rest ended up collapsed on the ground, singed in various places, with a variety of broken bones. Clearly, they hadn’t been prepared for him.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Dick said, attempting to lighten the situation. Clark gave him a half smile, and flew up to Bess. His heat vision melted the chains. The pieces around her wrists clattered to the ground. He held Bess gingerly in his arms and lowered to the floor.

Dick carefully removed the sack from her head, tossing it aside. He and Clark knelt down, supporting Bess’s body between them. She was still breathing, but it didn’t sound good. “We’ve got to get her home,” Tim said, reaching out towards Bess, but not touching her. “Penny-one can help her.”

Bess opened her eyes. Though no longer green, they were unfocused and glazed over. Dick doubted that she really saw them. He resisted the urge to hug her close, to squeeze her and bury his face in her hair and never let her go again. He felt his breath catching in his throat. The relief of having her again almost undid him. He could feel the hot tears streaking down his cheeks.

Tim put a hand on his shoulder, kneeling beside him. Dick put an arm around him and pulled him in closer, put their foreheads together, and together, they let the overwhelming fear of losing her forever fade. Their shoulders shook, just enough for the other to feel it. They took comfort in the brotherhood they shared, and in the weight of Bess’s back against their legs. All of the tension built up since they'd lost her just melted away. Dick felt like he could breathe for the first time in a while.

She was safe again.

Mostly.

“Nightwing,” Clark’s voice seemed to break through a haze. Dick’s head snapped up, almost startled. He let go of Tim, and shook his head to clear it. He looked up at Clark and said, “let’s get out of here. Did Batman catch them?” Clark shook his head. “No. They escaped. But that doesn’t matter. We have Phoenix. Batman’s going to meet us back at the Batcave.”

Bess stirred a bit at the sound of her code name. A soft whimper emerged from her. Dick shushed her, and let Clark take her weight again. They left through the hole that Clark had made in the walls. He had come in through the sewer main that ran under the opera house. If they were lucky, the commotion hadn’t even disturbed the show.

Chapter Text

It would seem that fate was kind to them that day.

Alfred had been able to stabilize Bess without the need for a hospital, by some miracle. Bruce had hovered over him while he worked, barely able to stay out of the way. Eventually, Alfred had chased him out of the room, saying he couldn’t possibly work under such conditions. So Bruce had paced outside of Bess’s room until Alfred let him in again.

Most of Bess’s injuries were things that would heal on their own with a little first aid. Broken bones, scorched lungs, surface wounds; Alfred bandaged and treated what he could. He suspected it might take around six weeks for her to recover. “However,” he said, addressing the Batfamily that hovered around the door, “I’d like a watch on her for the next few days, until she’s thoroughly out of the woods. Let me know as soon as she wakes up.”

Bruce took the first shift. He had barely been able to convince Clark to go home to Lois, and only with promises of updates. He assured Clark that it wasn’t his fault. It was Ivy’s fault. It was the Court of Owls’ fault. It was Bruce’s own fault, for letting her be taken. Clark had denied that, of course, but it was enough to get him to leave in peace.

It was hard to see Bess like this, wrapped in bandages with oxygen tubing around her head. She was still breathing on her own, so Alfred was content to stick to just a nose cannula.

She looked so weak. Her rich dark skin had a rough grey tone to it. Her face, normally so bright and cheery, seemed sunken and sullen. Bruce could feel the rage boiling in him, but there was nothing to be done for the moment.

They’d lost the trail on the Court. It was as if all traces of them vanished. The talons that Clark had defeated had died when they were arrested: cyanide capsules in their teeth. Bruce should have seen that coming. None of them could be identified. He would find the trail again, but it would take time, and he was not a patient man. Hopefully, Tim would hear from Calvin Rose again, but that was a pretty big ‘if.’

Bess’s hands were cool to the touch. Bruce held one between his, trying to warm her. He knew she wouldn’t feel cold while she slept, but he couldn’t help it. Part of him wasn’t sure she was really home, that she would really be okay. She had been so strong, to last as long as she did. He knew she fought hard, but Superman had really given her a beating, and Ivy’s toxin overpowered the best of them. By the time the Court had her, she had no fight left.

It made Bruce wonder why Ivy had given her to the Court. Obviously they were working together, but why would Ivy give up her best bargaining chip against Batman? Stranger still, Poison Ivy had vanished from Gotham. He spent hours agonizing over what her plans were. He knew she was being threatened, which made matters worse. He knew that whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

“Bruce?” A raspy voice reached his ears and snapped him out of his thoughts. Hazy brown eyes met his, and a warm feeling washed over him. “Bessie,” he whispered, squeezing her hand gently.

She tried to sit up. He shook his head and put a hand on her shoulder. “You need to rest, Bess.”

“I can’t,” she squeaked, her face scrunching up in pain. “I can’t, they-” She devolved into a coughing fit, her whole body shaking with the effort.

“Shh,” he soothed her, putting a gentle hand on her forehead and smoothing her hair back out of her face. He used a clip to pin back the coils. He picked up a cloth from the side table and wiped a bit of black mucus from her lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe,” he murmured, hoping she would calm down.

She looked at him, as if she didn’t really believe him. “You’re safe,” he repeated, “I’ve got you.”

“Dad,” she whispered, and relaxed. “Go back to sleep,” he told her. “I’m right here.” Her eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing evened out again. Bruce let out a sigh of relief. He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

She’d never actually called him Dad before. It seemed to pierce through the ice around his heart, and he was suddenly aware of just how much he loved her, how much he loved all of his kids. Even his never-ending craving for justice, the rage that threatened to consume him every day, was miniscule in the face of it. It felt like it was crushing him and keeping him together all at the same time.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Bruce could have killed someone if they’d woken her up again. Fortunately, she slept peacefully, and when Clark entered the room with two steaming mugs, Bruce found the offense forgivable.

“I thought you went home,” Bruce said, accepting the mug. Clark pulled up a chair next to him and replied, “I did, twelve hours ago. Are you ready to trade out?”

Bruce turned away, not answering. Clark sipped his mug rather loudly. Bruce watched him out of the corner of his eye. His glasses fogged up. Bruce felt a twinge of a smile tug at his lips.

Bruce brought his mug to his nose and took a deep breath of the aroma. Earl Grey, nothing in it, just how he liked it. “Did Alfred make this?” He asked, then took a sip. It was perfect.

“I do know how you like your tea, Bruce.” Clark said, trying to sound annoyed but failing. The boyish smile gave him away.

Bruce turned his attention back to Bess. She slept, as she had the last time he looked at her. Her breathing was even, if a bit shallow, but that was to be expected.

“I don’t remember much,” Clark began, “but I do remember her. After the fire, staring me down.” Bruce looked at him without moving his head.

“I guess I had just hit her.” Clark cringed as he said it. “She looked at me and she told me that I could do better than that. I almost broke free then.” Clark was looking at Bess. His expression was a mix between pride and guilt. “It was almost funny,” Clark continued. “But as soon as I tried to resist, I was shoved back into darkness.” His expression morphed into something resembling grief. “I fought and I fought, and I couldn’t get out. I…” He turned his head away from Bruce and whispered, “I thought I killed her.”

“You thought Ivy killed her,” Bruce corrected.

“It would have been my hands, my failure.” Clark said, wrapping his hands around his mug. They sat in silence for a long moment.

“Is this the part where I tell you how I blame myself?” Bruce asked. The dull humor seemed to work. Clark smiled and said, “yes, it is.”

Bruce wanted to refuse. He didn’t like talking about his feelings, or his failures. However, he had a hard time telling Clark no.

“I sent her in. I told her that if she didn’t stop you, you would kill Tim. She’d do anything for him. They’re close.” Bruce felt his chest loosen as he spoke, as if the hand squeezing him let up a little. “I knew she could never beat you, but she could hold you off long enough to…” he paused, searching for the words.

“Kryptonite?” Clark asked. He didn’t seem surprised.

“Yes.” Bruce replied. With that over with, he got on with his story. “I was only three minutes out. It was agonizing. The next thing I know, Tim says that you didn’t kill her. I don’t know why that was so hard to hear. Then, I had a chance to get her back.” He stared down into the Earl Gray, looking at his warped reflection. “And I chose you.”

“Do you regret that?” Clark asked quietly.

“No.” Bruce straightened a little. “I knew that getting you back was the best chance at winning this fight, and leaving you there was almost a guarantee we’d lose. It was the logical choice.”

“Being the logical choice doesn’t mean you can’t regret it.” Clark said gently. “I would have been fine. Bess might have died. Do you regret taking that risk?”

For a moment, Bruce didn’t have an answer. He took in a long, slow breath, then let it out. “No, I don’t,” he finally answered. “I…” He paused. It was hard to be vulnerable, even with Clark.

“Go on,” Clark encouraged. He put a hand on Bruce’s knee. The warm weight of it was comforting, and Bruce spoke again. “When I’m with you, I feel safe. I know everything is going to be okay.” He didn’t look at Clark, and could feel his ears burning.

Clark squeezed his knee gently. “It couldn’t have been an easy choice to make,” he said. Bruce shook his head. “It wasn’t. I told myself the mission comes first, but at that moment, it seemed impossible to remember that. When we did find her again, I wanted to kill them.”

“The owls?”

“Yes.”

“That seems reasonable to me, Bruce.”

“You don’t understand,” Bruce began, but Clark shook his head and insisted, “I do understand. They hurt your daughter. You wanted them to pay. I know you have your moral code; I do too. We don’t kill. But if someone threatened my son? Hurt him like they hurt Bess? I don’t know if I could stick to it.”

“You would.” Bruce was sure of it.

Clark laughed quietly, just a chuckle under his breath. “You’ve always been the strong one, Bruce. If I were you, I wouldn’t ever let Bess out of my sight again.”

“What makes you think I will?” This time, Bruce did smile.

Clark laughed a little louder this time. “You know, Bruce, I believe you.” Bruce turned his gaze back to Bess. She was still sleeping peacefully. She fought so hard because he asked her to. She called him Dad. The walls he always kept up crumbled when it came to her.

Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?

Chapter Text

The crisp taste of Zesti Cola seemed to drag Dick out of his early-morning stupor. He could feel the chill run all the way down his throat. He took another sip, and headed down the hall to Bess’s room. He hadn’t been able to sleep, and he thought he’d let Barbara off early.

Tim met him in the hall. It was clear that he was tired, even without the eye bags. He had some stubble on his face. He looked up and nodded his head up in Dick’s direction as a greeting.

“You look like shit, man,” Dick said. “You stay up all night?”

“Dude, I haven’t slept in a week.” Tim smiled slightly, as if it were humorous. “Is that coffee?” He asked, gesturing to the steaming mug in Dick’s other hand.

“It’s for Barbara. I didn’t think I’d see you here. Let me drop this off for her and I’ll make you some,” Dick offered. Tim nodded wearily. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. I’d like to talk anyway,” the younger man said, and shuffled off down the hallway. Dick turned and knocked on the bedroom door with his foot.

“Come in,” Barbara answered. Bess had been home for a few days now, and was still mostly asleep. She’d opened her eyes a few times, but closed them again soon after. Alfred said she’d likely wake up soon, though.

Dick pushed open the door. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said to Barbara, who smiled sweetly in return. He offered her a hot mug of coffee, with amaretto creamer, just the way she liked it. She took a long sip, letting out a little hum of content.

“How is she?” Dick asked. Barbara looked over to where Bess was sleeping. “She woke up last night, looking like she was staring death in the eye.” Barbara’s face fell, and she looked down at her mug. “She didn’t even know I was there. She held her breath until she fell back asleep. It was less than a minute, but I was scared for her.” Her voice tapered off. Dick felt his heart clench.

He put a hand on Barbara’s shoulder and knelt in front of her. “She’s going to be okay, Babs,” he said softly. “She just needs time to recover.”

“What happened to her, Dick?” Barbara asked. “If she’s anything like Clark, she won’t remember her time with Ivy, but what did the Court do to her? Anytime she opens her eyes, she’s terrified.” Barbara leaned forward, staring down into the coffee mug. “I’m really worried.”

Dick put a warm kiss on her forehead. “She’s tough, Babs. She’ll be okay.”

Barbara nodded, sniffling a little. She straightened herself up, taking a few gulps of coffee. “This is magical, but you’re almost two hours early,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Dick stood up again, shrugging. “I thought I would let you go ahead of schedule, but Tim said he wanted to chat. I’ll be back soon.”

“Fine by me,” Barbara said, waving her hand dismissively.

Dick made his way back out of the room, down the hall, down the stairs, and to the kitchen. Alfred was giving Tim a gentle scolding about the dangers of too much caffeine. Tim was doing his best to look guilty, but Dick knew it wouldn’t change anything.

“And don’t you come in here to encourage him, Master Richard,” Alfred said, turning his attention to Dick. “He’s as bad as Master Bruce as it is.”

Dick put his hands up defensively. “He’s a grown man, Alfred. He can drink coffee if he wants.”

“Not in my kitchen, he won't.” Alfred said, chasing them out with a tea towel.

Tim and Dick laughed together as they made a hasty exit. They regrouped in the foyer, giggling like boys again. “Don’t mind Alfred,” Dick said. “You know how he gets when he’s cranky.”

“Cranky enough to separate me from coffee,” Tim replied. “You’re still going to make some coffee, right?” He asked, his smile pressing up into his eyes.

“No,” Dick answered, “but I’ll buy you some. Let’s go to that new coffee shop in Tricorner. We can take Bruce’s new Mercedes.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

Dick retrieved the keys he’d “borrowed” from his pocket. “I did. I was planning on taking it for a spin this afternoon anyway. Let’s go.”

Tim grinned like a child, and the two ran out the front door.

Dick drove way too fast down the winding road from the manor to the city. Tim turned on some EDM, and they appreciated the car’s subwoofers.

The coffee shop was going through its busy hours, right before everyone had to be at work, so the boys got their coffee to go, along with a few pastries, and headed out to get crumbs in the new Mercedes. They drove up to Gotham Cemetery, and hiked up the hill to where Jason was buried. There they sat together on either side of the grave. Dick set a pastry on the headstone, feeling his heart clench a bit.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Dick asked, more to distract himself from the threat of grief than anything.

Tim took a deep breath. The tips of his ears were red. He looked out over the hills, watching the sunrise. “I wanted to ask-” he began, then stopped. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts. Dick gave him a moment. He watched Tim’s face slowly redden, and wondered with growing curiosity what he was about to ask.

“I want to ask you if it’s okay to ask Bess on a date.” Tim finally said, rushing through the sentence.

Dick was surprised. “I had no idea you felt like that about her.”

Tim smiled slightly and shrugged. “Neither did I. I mean, I had a crush on her a few years ago. She told me I was too young for her.” He sounded almost wistful. “She was right. Anyway, I thought I had gotten over it, and things were good. Then everything happened, and now I look at her, and I can't imagine my life without her. She’s my best friend. There’s so much I want to experience with her. I want to take her on a date, I want to fight next to her again, I want to hug her and not move for hours.” Tim was tearing up. “I was terrified I was never going to see her again.” He whispered. “I’m still afraid that she’ll never wake up. Even if she does, will she ever be the same?”

Dick ran his fingers through the grass. “You know,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “I’d be more worried if she didn’t change. That’s the thing about people. We’re always changing. It’s usually a good thing.”

Tim let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah,” he muttered.

Dick nudged him gently. “Hey,” he said. “She’s going to be fine. Sure, it’ll take some time, but Bess is one of the toughest people I know. If anyone can get past this, she can.”

Tim nodded, swallowing and looking down at his lap. “So…” He gave Dick a sideways look. “If- when she wakes up, is it cool with you if I ask her on a date?”

“Of course, man,” Dick said with a warm smile. “Thank you for asking.”

Tim grinned, then let his smile turn a bit more serious. “I respect you, Dick. I know you guys are poly, but I didn’t want to just…” He made some circling motions with his hands, showing that he was searching for the right term. “I didn’t want to burst into your relationship uninvited, you know? I was gonna ask Barbara, too.”

Dick responded with, “I appreciate it. Where are you going to take her?”

Tim pursed his lips thoughtfully. “She talked about this date she and Jason went on when they were young,” he gestured down across the city below. “They went around to all the rooftop gardens, like a tour. She loved it. You think she’d like it if I took her?”

Dick’s smile spread across his face before he even realized it. “I think she would love that. Damn, makes me want to go too.”

Tim laughed genuinely. “We need to go camping again,” he said after a moment. “It’s been way too long.”

“Agreed,” Dick said. “Tell you what, let’s go once this whole Court of Owls thing is over.”

“Deal,” Tim said with a nod.

Dick drank the last of his coffee, then crushed the paper cup in his hands. “It’s almost time for me to take over from Babs. You ready to go?”

Tim got to his feet with a grunt. “Yes. I should get to work anyway. Thanks for taking me to get coffee, Dick.”

Dick ruffled Tim’s hair, earning an exasperated huff. Dick grinned and said, “any time.”

Chapter Text

“Hey Babs,” Dick said as he pushed through the door to Bess’s room. “Hey,” she smiled back at him. He offered her a pastry and a kiss. She hummed against his lips with delight, and thanked him for the pastry.

“I’d better get going,” she said, unlocking her wheelchair brakes. The pastry hung out of the side of her mouth while her hands were occupied. “Bruce has me on the hunt for the owls,” she mumbled around it, “and I’ve got a lot of security footage to go through.”

“Don’t work yourself too hard,” Dick said softly. “I love you.” Barbara nodded, squinting her eyes and crinkling her nose to express happiness. “I love you too, Dick. Take care of her.”

“I will.” He held the door for her, and closed it quietly behind her. He went into the bathroom, humming an old circus tune. He ran the sink until it was hot, then ran a washcloth under the water. He wrung it out. He sat on the edge of Bess’s bed, resting a hand on her leg for a moment.

What happened to you? He wondered.

He leaned forward and began gently wiping down her face with the cloth. He wiped the crust from her eyes, from the edges of her lips, and behind her ears. His fingers brushed gently over the skin behind each pass of the cloth.

She looked better than she had at first. Her cheeks had some color to them, instead of the ashen look she’d arrived with. The swelling that plagued her body was going down. Her breathing wasn’t so harsh and raspy.

When he was done, he tossed the cloth in the laundry basket, then cupped Bess’s face gently in his hands. He kissed her head, on her widow’s peak, just where her hairline stopped. Bess stirred slightly, and Dick let go of her head.

Bess’s eyes snapped open. At first, she was wide-eyed, staring unblinkingly at him. Actually, it seemed more like she was staring through him. A chill ran down his spine. “Bess? Bess, it’s me. It’s Dick.” He said quietly, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. He wanted to touch her, to hold her close and tell her it was all going to be okay, but he knew that would probably do more harm than good if she didn’t know it was him.

She blinked a few times, the wild look fading. “Dick?” She rasped, squinting at him as if she couldn’t believe it was him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he assured her. “It’s me.” He took one of her hands in his own, bringing it to his lips. He placed soft kisses on her knuckles.

She seemed to relax for a moment. She looked exhausted. “Dick, they’ve got Tim’s parents,” she said, the urgency in her voice causing his neck to prickle. “Tim’s parents?” He asked, trying to gauge whether she was lucid.

“Fuck,” she groaned, bringing her free hand to her grimacing face. “They kidnapped Tim’s parents. They wanted to know how Tim knew some guy named Rose.”

“Calvin Rose?” Dick asked with a sinking feeling.

Bess nodded, looking at him strangely from between her fingers. “How did you know?” She asked. He assumed at that point that she was, in fact, truly awake.

“Calvin told us where to find you.”

Bess took a moment to process that. The corners of her eyes scrunched up. Dick could practically feel the wave of pain that washed over her. “Bess,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she whimpered. She closed her eyes tightly. “They really wanted to know. I didn’t know what to tell them.”

They tortured her, Dick thought with growing rage. He shoved it down and kept it together for her. Anger wouldn’t help right now. “What did you tell them?” He asked.

“I told them I didn’t know who Rose was. I’d never heard of him.”

“Did they find out who you were?” Dick asked. Bess still had a mask on when they found her, though it was significantly degraded from her fight with Superman. It was enough to cover her identity, but that didn’t mean the Court didn’t remove it to look.

“I don’t think so. They didn’t really seem to care. They just wanted to know about Rose, and they wanted to know about Tim. They never mentioned Robin,” Bess said, her voice shaky. “They said something about Tim meeting Rose in a church.” A few tears tumbled down her cheeks. Dick cupped her face in his hands gently and wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re safe now,” he murmured.

She struggled to sit up, with one arm reaching out towards him. He wrapped his arms around her and supported her weight. She hugged his neck tightly, burying her face in the space where his neck met his shoulder. He pressed his cheek to her hair and rocked her gently. She cried silently, her shoulders shaking. He whispered soothing words to her and traced his fingers up and down her spine.

After some time, she let go. He helped her lay back down and propped her up a bit with some pillows. He gave her tissues, and helped her drink some water. “I’m going to let Alfred know you’re awake, okay?” He asked. She nodded and requested something to eat as well.

With Alfred came Bruce.

With Bruce came questions.

Bess weathered it well. Bruce was clearly not trying to be overbearing, but his response to emotion was to obsess over a case, so he asked Bess question after question about what had happened. She didn’t go into much detail, but it was clear that the Court had tortured her for information she didn’t have. But the worst part?

They used fear gas to do it.

The toxin they used was modified from Scarecrow’s original formula. It decayed quickly, quickly enough that it hadn’t been detectable in Bess’s system by the time they got to her. Bess knew because the man torturing her was excited about it, and had told her exactly what it was before injecting her with it. It explained why Bess didn’t have any injuries that occurred after the battle with Superman. It wouldn’t take much pain to produce a heightened response on that substance.

It also confirmed that the Court had the capabilities to alter concoctions such as Ivy’s toxin.

Dick paced around the room, stewing in his rage, while Bruce spoke with Bess. He paused when Bruce’s phone buzzed loudly. Bruce glared at the thing as if it had offended him. As he looked at the screen, his expression changed. It was almost imperceptible, but Dick knew him well.

“What is it?” Dick asked, looking over Bruce’s shoulder.

The text read, “Share a prayer with a sinner, Mr. Wayne?” along with a picture of Gotham Chapel in West End. The number was listed as ‘restricted.’ A moment later, another message came through. It was a picture of a small wooden confessional, likely taken inside the chapel.

Bruce stood, tucking the phone back in his pocket. “What is it?” Bess asked, trying to sit up more. Bruce put a hand on her shoulder to placate her. “It’s probably Rose,” he said. “I’ll let you know what happens when I get back.”

“What if it’s not?” Bess asked, her eyes widening with panic.

“Then I’ll perform a citizen’s arrest,” Bruce said with a touch of humor.

Alfred rolled his eyes, though he kept it subtle. “I will prepare you something to eat, Miss Bess,” the butler said. Bess’s eyes lit up. “Waffles?” She asked sheepishly, like a child yearning for a sweet.

Alfred’s expression softened, the edges of his eyes wrinkling with a smile. “With cinnamon and nutmeg,” he said warmly. He’s always had a soft spot for her, Dick thought with a smile.

He knew that Alfred had a soft spot for all of them. It showed in his baked goods, in favorite meals on birthdays, in tea made just how they liked it, and in a thousand other little ways. Alfred was not openly emotional, but he always found ways to express his love.

Watching Bruce leave, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, Dick had the same thought about him. He thought about when he was young, maybe ten or eleven, and he’d fallen asleep under Bruce’s cape while Bruce sat in the batcave. Bruce never moved, and when Dick woke, it had been hours. Even when Bruce reprimanded them, it was gentle. Maybe that’s why it affected them so much.

Dick was pulled out of his thoughts by an odd sound. He realized it was Bess’s teeth chattering. “Are you cold?” He asked. Bess nodded, pulling the blankets up over her shoulders.

“Care for a snuggle?” Dick asked sweetly.

Bess nodded quickly, looking almost relieved. “That would be so fucking nice,” she said. Dick got under the covers, putting his arm around her and pulling her into his chest. She laid her head on the crook of his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. She pressed her nose to his chest and inhaled deeply. He laughed softly.

“You smell good,” she mumbled, burying her face in his shirt. Her arms clung to his waist.

“What do I smell like?” Dick asked, rubbing the back of her neck softly. She arched into his touch.

“Home,” she replied, and Dick felt a wave of joy and bliss wash over him. His thoughts went to how she made him feel, how he loved waking up next to her, and the way she always danced when she was cooking, whether she realized it or not.

He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. Big brown eyes met his, and he thought he might get lost in them. “May I kiss you?” He asked. Bess pressed her lips to his. He could feel the warmth spread through him like a spring thaw.

Smiling against her lips, he couldn’t help but to think to himself, I guess I have some soft spots too.

Chapter Text

Bruce suspected that Calvin Rose knew that he was Batman at this point, but on the off chance he didn’t, Bruce planned on laying the “Brucie” on thick.

He got out of the car in West End, right in front of the chapel. Fortunately, there weren’t many people around, and those that were didn’t seem to recognize him. He strolled through the open church doors, taking a moment to look around the chapel.

It was smaller than he’d remembered.

At the front, tucked in the corner, was the confessional that was in the picture. He walked over to it, and ducked inside.

“Confess,” the voice on the other side of the screen said. The man’s tone was almost humorous. Bruce replied, “isn’t there a whole speech you’re supposed to give me first?” He wasn’t about to start asking questions when he couldn’t be certain that Calvin Rose was on the other side.

“I think we both know that’s unnecessary, Mr. Wayne,” the voice said, then added, “let’s get down to business.”

“Oh, I have sinned quite a bit,” Bruce said, smiling so it sounded like he was smiling.

“I’m glad you got your girl back,” the voice said. Bruce was pretty certain that it was, in fact, Calvin. “I appreciate you leading us to her,” Bruce said, letting “Brucie” drop to the background. Still, he didn’t quite let Batman take over.

“I thought you might. Consider it a gesture of good will. I was wondering if you’d be interested in a quid pro quo.” Calvin kept his voice low. Not that anyone would hear them anyway, but Bruce respected the extra caution. If the Court was looking for Calvin, it was wise to be careful.

“I’m listening,” said Bruce.

“I’m sure by now you know about Drake’s parents?”

Bruce replied, “yes. Do you know where they are?”

Calvin let out a sigh. He sounded tired. “No, I don’t. But I do know where they will be. On September 7th, they’re being moved through Otisburg shortly after nightfall. They’re going up to the cemetery. I don’t think the Court plans to make demands. I think it’s their way of punishing young Mr. Drake.”

The Court knows. The thought sent a chill down Bruce’s spine. And the Court is going to kill Tim’s parents for it. Then he thought absently, that's 32 days away.

As if reading his mind, Calvin said, “the Court doesn’t know about his nighttime activities, or yours, Mr. Wayne. They’re punishing Tim Drake for being seen with me.” Bruce could read between the lines. Tim Drake, not Robin.

“They’re also punishing his parents for going back on their word,” Calvin added.

“Oh?”

“I will admit,” Calvin said, “that it’s partially my fault. Meeting Drake in the Cathedral was a poor move. Still, the matter was urgent, and I was desperate. I had little choice. There wasn’t time to wait for him to find me.”

Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, then spoke. “You said this was a quid pro quo. What do you want from me?”

“I want Batman to help me take down the Court. I’d also like witness protection for a couple of friends of mine. I’m having a damned hard time getting them out of the city.”

“What kind of friends?” Bruce asked.

Calvin clicked his tongue, as if admonishing him. “I can’t give you the details here, Mr. Wayne. The Court has eyes everywhere. You never know who’s listening. I won't risk their lives unnecessarily.”

Bruce thought about it for a moment. He didn’t trust Calvin, but on the other hand, Calvin had saved his daughter. He wouldn’t bring the man to the Batcave, but he had a few safehouses that wouldn’t be a huge loss if they were compromised.

“Fine,” Bruce said. “If I give you an address of a secure location, can you speak there?”

“It would compromise the location,” Calvin replied.

“That’s not a problem.” Bruce scribbled an address on a piece of notepad paper. It was one of his safehouses in the Bowery. He made a mental note to get everything out of it before Calvin arrived. He pushed the piece of paper through the holes in the confessional booth. “A week from tomorrow at midnight?” Bruce suggested. “It will give me time to prepare passage out of the city.”

“Deal.” The paper vanished.

Bruce exited the booth, then the chapel. He told Alfred about the meeting on the way back. Alfred seemed pleased with the outcome.

“Now,” Bruce said, feeling a weight on his chest. “We just need to tell Tim.”

Chapter Text

The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Bess muttered. She turned her head to look out the window. The streetlamps outside of her apartment glowed golden, attracting all manner of moths and bugs to fly around them. The glittering lights of Gotham looked like a thousand little fairies, scattered by the rain on the window.

Bess had to read the poem for one of her classes. Being on the bench for the Batfamily had actually given her time to catch up on her schoolwork. She put the laptop to the side when there was a knock on the door. That's probably Tim, she thought. He was coming over to watch the new season of their favourite show. She got out of bed and opened the door. Tim was in the hallway, holding a dripping umbrella in one hand and some flowers in the other. Irises, her favorite. “Hey Bess,” he said with a boyish grin.

By the looks of it, he had just gotten his hair cut. The fade on the sides looked fresh, and the top was clearly styled instead of just brushed. He was still in his office suit, with a black overcoat. He looked nice.

“Hey Tim. Did you get a haircut?” She asked. Tim beamed. “I did! Thanks for noticing.”

“It looks good,” Bess commented. She stepped back, gesturing to invite him in, and took the flowers from him. Tim hung up his coat and umbrella, then strolled across the room and sat down on the couch. “Tea?” Bess asked, heading into the kitchen.

“Yes please.”

Bess put the irises in a vase, commenting on how lovely they were, and made some jasmine tea. She sat next to him on the couch, and passed him his mug. He took a sip, his eyes closing and a warm smile crossing his face. “Thanks, sweetness,” he said. “It’s delicious.”

He'd called her sweetness after she made him southern-style sweet iced tea for the first time. It just happened to stick.

She took a deep inhale out of her own mug, savoring the floral aroma. The steam was pleasant against her lips. She took a sip.

The nice thing about being fireproof was that tea was never too hot to drink.

“How are you feeling?” Tim asked. “I could ask you the same thing,” Bess replied. It had been a month since Bruce had spoken with Calvin Rose. Two more days, and they’d have the chance to rescue Tim’s parents.

“Honestly?” Tim began. “Better than I have been. At least I know they’re still alive.”

“I want to go,” Bess said. It was impulsive, but she meant it.

Tim frowned. “Are you sure? You’ve still got two more weeks before Alfred will clear you.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Bess replied.

Tim pursed his lips, as if considering an argument. Bess nudged his leg with her own. “Come on, Tim, I’ll be fine.”

“The Court’s no joke, Bess.”

“You don’t think I can handle it?” She could admit that she applied extra sass intentionally, but she wouldn’t.

Tim looked down at his feet. He looked worried, like he was overthinking. Just as Bess was about to say something else, his worried look morphed into a sly smile. “Alright, but we don’t tell Bruce.”

“And?” She asked, knowing he was up to something.

“And…” Tim leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. His cheeks were flushed red. “When we’re done, I have a surprise for you. You have to come along, no questions asked. Deal?” His eyes had an impish gleam to them.

Bess rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Fine,” she said. “Deal. So long as neither of us are significantly injured.” Or if we don’t save your parents, she thought grimly, but she wasn’t about to ruin Tim’s good mood with that.

Tim had handled the news surprisingly well, when Bruce had told him. Still, Bess could see that it weighed on him. Even now, with just the idea of it in the air, Tim deflated a bit.

“Anyway,” Bess started, eager to make him happy again, “you’re not here to talk about work. You’re here to watch the new season of Space Trek 3016 with me!” She leaned over him and grabbed the remote from the table on the other side of him. She sat back, cross-legged, and turned on the tv.

An easy smile returned to Tim’s face. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his dress shirt.

“Oh!” Bess jumped to her feet. “I keep forgetting, you’re old enough to drink legally now.”

Tim laughed a bit at that. “I’m truly an adult now,” he teased.

“Do you want some wine? I also have tequila,” Bess offered. Tim tilted his head to the side, thinking. “Tequila shots?” He asked.

“I’ll cut up a lime.” Bess retrieved one from the fridge, and rolled it on the counter before slicing. Tim got the shot glasses and salt out. Bess poured the shots, then put a line of salt on her hand. Tim did the same.

“Cheers!” They touched their glasses together. Bess liked to watch Tim’s face when he took a shot. He always scrunched up his nose when biting the lime. He hadn’t quite gotten to the point where they went down easy, but that would come with time. They had one more shot before settling back on the couch to watch the show.

The burn of the alcohol warmed Bess’s stomach. After the first episode, they had another round of tequila, she laid down on the couch. After the second, they had another round, and Tim laid with her. He had his arms wrapped around her waist with his head resting on her shoulder. She absently ran a hand through his hair, though most of her attention was on the television.

At the end of the third episode, Bess looked down to see that Tim had fallen asleep. He seemed peaceful, his breathing slow and even. She could feel the tickle of his breath on her chest. His eyelashes fluttered with his eye movements. Like this, with nothing to hide, Bess could see how tired he was. Tim was an insomniac, no doubt about it. The fact that he felt safe enough to sleep next to her warmed her heart. That, or it’s the alcohol, she thought briefly.

She rested her cheek on his forehead, feeling a wave of affection wash over her. Alcohol always went straight to her head. She inhaled deeply, taking in the barbershop smell of hair products and aftershave. “I love you, Tim,” she whispered. Tim didn’t stir. With a smile, she started the next episode.

By the end of the fourth episode, Bess was asleep too.

Chapter Text

“You know if Batman finds out, it won’t be good.” Oracle’s voice over the radio brought a smile to Bess’s face.

“Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t find out,” Red Robin replied coolly with a wink at Bess. Though his eyes were covered by his contacts, just a couple of white slivers set in the mask, she could imagine the humor in them.

“You’re lucky Joker decided to make a move tonight,” Oracle said in a scolding tone. “What were you planning to do if he hadn’t?”

“That doesn’t matter now,” Robin said. “Just let us know if he suddenly finds himself unbusy.”

Bess could practically hear Oracle rolling her eyes. Robin changed the subject. “Have you seen anything yet?” He asked.

“Surprisingly, no. The only thing I’ve picked up from the Batwing’s scanners is a small group that’s been at the cemetery for hours. They’re still there, but I wasn’t aware of any funerals scheduled today. Still, I doubt its related.”

“I can go check it out, just in case,” Bess volunteered.

Robin nodded thoughtfully. “Good idea. I’ll wait here.” They were perched on a rooftop opposite an old apartment building. It was one of the early buildings in Gotham, and showed its age. Calvin had specifically pointed it out on a map, saying that he suspected the Court was operating out of a secret thirteenth floor. Though these buildings didn’t have a floor labeled thirteen, thanks to the builders’ superstition, but plans showed a gap between the twelfth and fourteenth floor.

From scans, there was no one currently in it.

Bess wondered if Calvin had gotten it wrong.

She stepped to the edge of the building, calling the Batcycle to the street below. “Be careful,” Robin said behind her.

“I will,” she said with a smile and jumped off the building. It wasn’t a long fall, only a few floors, and with her abilities, she was able to catch herself when she hit the ground. She rolled, then hopped on the Batcycle.

The roar of the mechanical beast sent a thrill through her. The helmet plates in her suit crawled up around her face. She revved the engine, and the tires screeched as she took off. She raced through the streets of Gotham with a grin on her face. Her laugh echoed in the helmet. The road rushed behind her like water. The streetlights were like a lightshow at this speed. She wove in and out of traffic, likely more reckless than she needed to be, but she didn’t care.

It had been far too long since she’d been on the streets of Gotham. Her new suit fit her like a glove. She had to bribe Lucius with promises of Alfred’s cookies to get it tonight instead of in two weeks. The base layer was the same type of fabric that her previous one had been: the fire-proof fabric the Justice League had developed.

On top of that was a bodysuit that felt like fabric, but in reality was more tech than thread. It could keep her warm, keep her cool, monitor her body signs, administer first aid, and a whole slew of other things Lucius had raced through in his explanation.

The armor layer was similar to Batman’s, in both material and appearance. Plates hugged all of her major muscle groups, snug enough that the suit wouldn’t catch on anything. Barbara had told her she looked sexy. Bess believed her.

Her bat symbol on her chest was dark maroon, and a little more stretched out than Batman’s was. Her utility belt and her cape were the same color. Computers were hidden in the forearm plates that could connect to the batcomputer. Lucius had been quite proud of his handiwork. It was a suit that rivaled Batman’s current one. Not that that would last long; Batman was always upgrading. Still, it gave Bess a flush of pride to think about. She loved her new suit.

She couldn’t wait to test it out.

She pulled up at the gates of the cemetery and got off the bike. It immediately took off, cloaking itself on the street. She hopped the stone wall and headed to where the scans indicated the group was. She saw them ahead, huddled together under umbrellas to hide from the eternal Gotham rain. They all wore long black coats with hoods, but that wasn’t unusual for Gotham.

The graves they were standing over were fresh, barely a few hours old. That was odd. Barbara had said there weren’t any funerals scheduled today. Her intuition told her that something wasn’t right here. She approached the group, crouched behind some bushes, trying to get a closer look.

She stepped on a twig. Wet from the rain, it bent instead of snapping, but it disturbed the leaves that were lying on top of it. The sound was barely audible to Bess over the rain, but she still grimaced. One of the members of the group, on the outskirts, turned to look in her direction.

Bess’s heart stopped. The mask was familiar, and sparked a sense of dread that seemed to soak into her bones and root her to the ground. The mask was white, and blank with the exception of two black eye holes, and a slight hook over the nose resembling an owl.

Bess held deathly still. She squinted to see through the rain. Her scanners in her mask helped pick up the names on the tombstones. Jack and Janet. Those were the names of Tim’s parents. The shovel was still laid next to the graves. It was almost comical. She looked down, switching to body scanners. About four feet below the earth, there were two warm bodies, and they were moving around in a panic.

Shit. They’re still alive.

Then the mask that was facing towards her pointed in her direction. More masks snapped in her direction, all at once, like clockwork. Her heart pounded. Some of them were the white masks of the Court, some of them were the sickly green eyed masks of the talons.

“Robin, I need backup, right fucking now,” she muttered, then launched out of the bushes at the first mask that had seen her. She might as well throw the first punch, if there was going to be a fight.

“Copy that, Phoenix, I’m about five minutes out.” She could hear the roar of the Batcycle through the radio.

Five minutes was a long time.

A talon stepped between Phoenix and the masked person. Her fist collided with the talon’s jaw, and she felt a satisfying crunch as the talon stumbled back. She had dealt the first blow. Now she just had to keep the momentum rolling.

She was horribly outnumbered. The Court stepped back, white masks forming a line in front of the fresh graves. There were about ten talons. Phoenix counted her breaths. One. She dodged a knife. She could feel it whizz through the air just by her ear. Two. She dug her feet in and put weight in her hips. Three. She struck with a quick punch to the neck. Four. She struck again. A talon stumbled back, clutching their throat where Phoenix had hit. An odd coughing sound gurgled out of the mask. Five. The talon hit the ground, and Phoenix dodged a strike from behind.

Battle had become a meditation. It was one of Bruce’s lessons. Don’t let the battle control you, and don’t let adrenaline go to your head. Let it flow, and you will flow with it. It’ll become second nature. She could hear his voice in her head.

Eventually, Phoenix lost count of her breaths. For the most part, she held her own. Her strength meant that it didn’t take many hits to take a talon down, though she pulled her punches. The hard part was landing those hits. The talons moved like water, seeming to bend around her punches, only to suck her in by her wrist. They were fast. By the time she heard the Batcycle approaching, she’d managed to take down three of them. There were still seven left.

The Court continued to watch the fight, as if they were merely spectators at a theater.

Robin wasted no time in joining the fray. He jumped off the moving Batcycle and flew through the air. His boot connected with a talon’s head. “What’s the situation?” He asked, his back to Phoenix’s.

“They’re buried alive,” Phoenix responded. “I can dig them out, but I can’t fight at the same time.” She caught the leg of a talon that had tried to back kick her. She drove her elbow into the knee, and the leg snapped to an awkward angle. There was a strangled cry from the talon.

“Do it. I’ll hold them off.” Robin said grimly. It wouldn’t be an easy fight.

“What about the Court?” Phoenix asked, glancing over at the line of white masks.

“Burn them if they touch you,” Robin growled. Phoenix heard the distinctive metallic clang of his bo staff connecting with something hard.

Phoenix dove out of the fight, allowing Robin to engage. He began using a slew of gadgets to keep the attention of the talons. There were more than a few small explosions, and a smoke bomb filled the air nearby. Anytime a talon would try to chase Phoenix, he’d yank them back in.

Phoenix faced the Court, who stared back at her from behind their masks. She could feel their gazes boring into her, trying to see through to her soul.

She took a step forward, squaring her shoulders and looking down her nose like Batman had taught her, to look more intimidating. As if prompted by some unheard command, the Court split, three to the right and three to the left, offering her a clear path. It felt like a trap. It probably was, but if the Drakes weren’t unearthed soon, they would suffocate. So long as the Court didn’t make a move, she’d let them be.

She stepped past them, retrieving the shovel, and making sure she was facing them at all times. She started with Jack’s grave first. If he was still breathing when she got to him, he could help dig his wife out. With half an eye on the Court, she drove the shovel into the ground and flung a mound of dirt behind her.

The Court watched her dig as if she was a spectacle. It was eerie. They weren’t even trying to stop her. It was as if she were a sideshow, and they were spectators. Robin fought in the background behind them. This time, he was winning. It brought a small smile to Phoenix’s face. Robin never made the same mistake twice.

It didn’t take long for Phoenix to reach the coffin. Maybe ten minutes? Her augmented strength made her particularly suited for moving huge amounts of wet soil. It felt easy to her. The only delaying factor was speed. She hauled the coffin out of the ground and ripped the nails out of it. Jack lurched out like a spooked animal. His eyes were wide, and he was gasping for air. He tried to attack her. She caught his wrists and said calmly, “dig up Janet.”

He seemed to understand when she put the shovel in his hands. He cast wary looks at the Court, who were still watching motionlessly. “Ignore them,” Phoenix said, and began digging with her hands. She scooped large amounts of dirt with her arms and flung it to the side. Jack shoved the shovel into the ground and yanked it out. Not much moved. He flung little bits of dirt all over the place until Phoenix stopped him. “Look at me,” she said, and his terrified eyes met hers.

“Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast.” She said calmly. Jack nodded quickly, looking as if he were trying to shake off the fear. It wasn’t working, but this time, when he dug, he made progress.

Phoenix became aware of silence, and realized that Robin’s fight was over. When she looked up, the Court was facing away from her, towards Robin. “We’ll need more talons next time,” a muffled voice said. “A lot more,” Robin retorted. Phoenix could hear the venom in his voice.

“What a shame you let them live. Their failure will be harshly punished,” another voice said without much emotion. Bess could feel her fingers scraping against wood instead of earth. She clawed at it, trying to clear it off enough to pull it out.

When she looked back up, the Court was swallowed up by a smoke cloud. It didn’t smell like Robin’s formula. Robin emerged from it, and jumped down in the hole to help dig up his mother. His face was a cool mask of determination, but Phoenix could see the desperation in his movements.

She hooked her fingers under the coffin lid, and managed to pry it off. Janet was unconscious, but her chest still rose and fell. Her lips were faintly blue. Jack knelt next to her, pulling her up into his arms. “Janet,” he murmured, burying his face in her muddy hair.

She opened her eyes and took a deep, gasping breath. She writhed in Jack’s arms. Phoenix sat back to give them space. After a moment of desperate pleading, Janet seemed to realize that she was being held by her husband. Her lips were regaining their pink color.

Robin looked incredibly relieved. He slumped in the mud next to Phoenix and squeezed her hand while he caught his breath.

After everyone caught their breath, Phoenix helped them out of the hole. The two victims collapsed on the grass, crying in each other’s arms. Phoenix exchanged a glance with Robin. He stepped to the side, out of earshot.

“They’re not safe in Gotham anymore,” Bess said quietly. Tim grimaced and replied, “I know. Batman has a deal with witness protection for the Washingtons. Maybe we can convince them to take the Drakes as well?” He gestured to his parents.

Bess felt for him. He was enveloping himself in the logic of the job to avoid feeling the emotions surrounding it. His parents would have to leave Gotham. His parents almost died. They’d been kidnapped by terrible people for the sole purpose of punishing Tim Drake. Tim Drake wasn’t really safe in Gotham now either, but the Court was unaware of just how well he could hold his own. How long before they made a move? Especially after Robin had interfered with their execution. They wouldn’t let that slide.

Bess nodded solemnly. Oracle chimed in her ear, “already on it. We’ll get the Drakes out of Gotham safely. The Batmobile is currently indisposed, but if you can get to a level street, I can send the Batwing to pick them up.”

“Copy that,” Robin said, and looked towards the Drakes. They were beginning to pull themselves together, and looked back at him. Janet mouthed his name, Tim, but didn’t dare say it out loud. He went and knelt next to them, explaining in hushed tones what the plan was. The Drakes looked like they were still in shock.

“Phoenix,” Oracle said. “I think Batman needs some help on Arkham Island, but he won’t let me send Robin. Joker has taken over the facility, and Batman is having one hell of a time with Scarecrow and Croc. He says that if anyone is seen approaching the island, it won’t be good. I can’t go against his direct orders, but he never said I couldn’t send you.”

“He doesn’t know I’m back in the field yet,” Phoenix replied, but she had a sly smile on her face. “I guess I can’t hide it from him forever. What are you thinking?”

“We have some new rebreathers that should get you to the sublevels. I’ll send some with the Batwing, some flippers too. Your suit has heaters, so the cold of the bay shouldn’t be a huge problem. Remember, you can’t let anyone see you until you reach Batman,” Oracle emphasized.

“Copy that,” Phoenix said, and the line closed. The rendezvous location popped up on the map. She walked with Robin and the Drakes, and got the rebreathers from the Batwing. Never a dull moment, she thought with amusement.

“Don’t think this means I’m going to let you break our deal,” Tim said teasingly, once his parents were strapped into the plane. Bess laughed a bit, “never. I’ll meet up with you once I’m done on the island. Just send me coordinates.”

Tim waved, and the Batwing lifted off. Bess watched them fly away, then called the Batcycle to take her to the harbor. She parked on the edge of the seawall, far enough from the bridge that no one would be able to see her from it. She stuck the rebreather in her mouth, put on the fins, and dove into the water.

The cold was a shock. Her suit’s heaters kicked on, feeling like a lifeline in the freezing bay. Bess dove down enough that spotlights were unlikely to see her, and began swimming. As she got close, her mask’s scanners began to pick up the people on the island. There was something big up top, almost as big as killer croc, but she had no idea what it was.

She saw Batman in the tunnels, which were half-flooded. Killer Croc was swimming around beneath him. She found an underwater entrance to the tunnels, and made her way over to where Batman was.

She grabbed Croc’s leg, just as he was about to jump out of the water. She jerked him back under, and used his body as a ladder out of the water. She jumped up on the walkway with Batman, who scowled deeply when he saw her.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” His voice a low growl of subtle anger. It was downright scary. Fortunately, Bess was used to it. She kicked off the flippers and spat out the rebreather. “Yeah, but it sounded like you could use some help.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Batman glowered, then kicked Croc in the nose when the giant alligator man bit the floating walkway. “Can you handle this?” Batman asked. “I need to get to Joker before he gets to the titan.”

“No problem,” Bess said, and peered into the water. She shouted, “hey Waylon, how about you pick on someone your own size?!”

A roar that shook the structures around them was her answer. Batman slipped off into the shadows, leaving Bess to fight the beast.

Croc jumped out of the water, jaws open wide. Phoenix caught them, prying his mouth apart with her hands. She grunted with the effort. Dig deep, she thought to herself. The plates on her gloves held; the giant teeth didn’t pierce them. Croc’s bellow was deafening.

“Yeah, I get it, you’re mad!” Phoenix quipped, throwing the beast against the far wall. Croc’s body hit the water hard, sending a wave outward. The walkway rocked beneath her, but she had good balance.

Croc’s body floated in the water briefly before he dove down, but it was long enough for Phoenix to see the shock collar around his neck. What would Batman do? She wondered.

Aha!

She retrieved a batarang from a pouch on her utility belt. She sprayed some explosive gel onto it. She waited for Croc to leap out of the water again. When he did, he reached for her, trying to grab her. She let him get close, then stabbed the batarang into the collar. She planted her foot on his chest and kicked, sending him flying back. It also tipped the walkway she was on. She fell into the water.

She could see Croc’s shadow swimming around her, and switched her scanners. He appeared as bright orange in her vision. I can’t set off the explosive until I’m out of the water, she thought. If the collar electrified the water, it wouldn’t feel great.

She waited until he swam at her. She forced his jaws shut and held on. Sure enough, he jumped out of the water and flailed in an attempt to shake her off. She let go and landed on a section of walkway further down the flooded tunnel.

She detonated the explosive.

The concussive force caused Waylon to stumble. Just as Phoenix had hoped, the collar short-circuited, and the electrocution was enough to knock Waylon unconscious. He collapsed on the walkway, and was still.

“Croc is dealt with,” Phoenix said into the radio. “I’d get him secured before he wakes up.”

“I’ll let the guards know.” Oracle replied.

“Return to the mainland,” Batman ordered. He didn’t sound pleased. He did sound like he was fighting. “Can I join your fight?” Bess asked.

“No. I won’t risk exposing you to titan.” Batman’s tone left no room for argument. “Return to the mainland, and don’t let anyone see you leave the island.”

Bess shrugged, fished her fins and rebreathers out of the water, and began the swim back to Gotham. It’s no big deal, she told herself. After all, I still need to meet up with Tim.

Chapter Text

The sky was still dark when Bess got back to the mainland. It was still a while until sunrise, but the sky would soon take on the deep lavender of the morning. Well, in Gotham’s case, it was really more of a purple-tinged grey.

She followed Tim’s coordinates until she found herself on a rooftop in Miagani. She was surrounded by home-grown herbs. Vines crawled up some of the brick pillars holding up the lattice ceiling. Purple clusters of wisteria hung overhead. In the gentle rain, they glistened. It looked like they were crystalized. The smell was incredible.

“You made it,” Tim’s voice came from behind her. She turned around with a smile. “This place is beautiful! I wish my building would let me have a rooftop garden.” She gestured around her. “Can you imagine cooking with herbs like these? I’m jealous.”

“That would be so good,” Tim said with longing in his voice.

Bess took in a deep breath, relishing the air. Then she turned to Tim. “So,” she asked, “what is the surprise?”

Tim took a few steps toward her, glancing down at the ground before looking up at her through his lashes. Bess recognized the playful smile. He often did the same thing at galas and events when he was trying to flatter someone. It always worked.

Bess raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to, Robin?” She almost called him Tim, but they were still in costume.

“I’m taking you on a date.” A statement, not a question. He said it so confidently that it took her a moment to actually react to it. “What?” She asked, feeling a flood of confusion. “I don’t think I heard that right.”

Tim stood in front of her, resting his weight in his heels, trying to come off as relaxed, but she could see the tension in his neck. “I’m taking you on a date,” he repeated. “Across the rooftop gardens.”

Jason.

She’d told him about her favourite date with Jason, when they toured the rooftop gardens of Gotham. It was a bittersweet memory. Tim was trying to recreate it for her, with him. Bess shoved down the familiar grief, instead leaning into the confusion.

“Like, a date date?” She asked, somewhat stunned. She hadn’t even known Tim still had feelings for her. She’d rejected him when he was 18. There had been too much of a maturity gap between them. It’s not that she didn’t like him, she just still saw him as a kid. She had assumed that he’d gotten over it. Apparently not.

Tim nodded. “Yes,” he said. His hand reached out and brushed hers. She didn’t stop him. He hooked her index finger loosely in his. It was an invitation to pull away. When she didn’t, he spoke again.

“Look, Phoenix, I really like you. I asked Nightwing and Oracle, and they’re fine with it, so if you like me too, or even if you don’t know but you think you might, then let’s go on a date.” He sped through the sentence, his nerves showing.

Bess blinked a few times. “Robin…” She said, not sure what else to say. Her heart squeezed in her chest, and she realized she was nervous too. “I don’t know…” She said, her eyes darting to the side.

“Then come anyway, and we can figure it out,” he said hopefully.

“You’re too young for me,” she whispered.

Tim scowled, then tried to hide it behind a neutral expression. “I’m not too young anymore, Phoenix,” he said, his calm voice trembling slightly. “That was three years ago. How long do you want me to wait?” He asked, exasperated and confused.

“I don’t know,” Bess said, resisting the urge to hide her face in her hands. “Look, it’s not that I don’t like you-”

“So you do like me?” Tim asked, cocking his head to the side.

Bess let out a groan of frustration. “I don’t know, yes??” She blurted out, “I love you, you know? You’re my best friend. You’ve been my best friend for a long time. I went toe-to-toe with fucking Superman for you. I don’t know what I feel! I just feel like it’s not the right time to even think about it.”

Tim stepped forward until he towered over her, and she became instantly aware of how big he’d gotten. Not just taller, but his shoulders had broadened as well. She felt surrounded by him, if that was possible. He glowered through his mask. “You’re not listening to me,” he said calmly. It was the same tone he used on Bruce on the bad days. It was the tone he used when someone wasn’t thinking straight.

Bess frowned, and shook her head. “I am listening to you, Robin. You’re not listening to me. You’re too-”

He darted forward, and before she could think, her back was against the bricks, and he had a firm, but gentle grip on her jaw with one hand. His other arm was leaning on the pillar above her head. She found that she felt very small all of a sudden, which was new to her. When had he gotten so tall?

He was close enough to her face that she could smell the coffee on his breath. He tilted her head upwards until she was looking at him. “Do you really still think of me as a kid?” He asked quietly, barely audible over the rain.

He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Because I’m not a fucking kid anymore. I’m the Red Robin. I’ve solved more cases in a month than the whole of the GCPD in the past year. I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. I’m old enough to drink, and if experience were time, I’d be over a hundred. I rescued my parents from being buried alive today, and it’s really just another day in Gotham. Hell, I don’t even look like a kid anymore.” He huffed and turned his head to the side, his eyes shut as if he were in pain.

Bess didn’t know what to say.

After a few seconds, he let go of her chin and continued. “You were right, when I was 18. I was too young, too immature for you, but I’m not anymore. We’re on equal ground now. I want you to look at me as I am now, not as I was three years ago. Hell, the age gap between us is the same as it is between you and Nightwing. What’s the difference?”

His gaze returned to her. “If you don’t want me, fine, just tell me that. But stop using my age as an excuse.” He was calm the whole time he spoke, with just a hint of a growl in his voice.

The silence between them was louder than the rain. Water dripped down Tim’s face. The time it took for a drop to fall seemed like an eternity. Bess realized he expected her to answer him. She opened her mouth to speak, ready to tell him no, then closed it again before she did.

Tim wasn’t a kid anymore. He’d been a man for years, and she just hadn’t seen it until now. Now, it was hitting her like a train. She blinked the rain out of her eyes. She tried to come up with something to say, but it was like her brain had shut down. All she could do was watch a drop roll down his cheek, and disappear behind his jawline. Any baby fat he once had was long gone, leaving the angular face of a man behind.

He’s one hell of a man now, she thought, surprising herself. Tim was right. He wasn’t a kid anymore. Not even close.

“Phoenix,” his voice caught her attention. Her gaze snapped back up to his eyes. His intense gaze felt like it was boring a hole into her, even behind the white Waynetech contacts. She didn’t think she’d be able to hold his gaze if she was looking at the brilliant blue. Tim had always been an intense guy, but this was something else. Bess felt heat flood her body, and she could feel the red blooming across her face. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, and her lips parted. Something felt like it was blossoming in her chest, a strange warmth and butterflies. Her heart raced like it had with Dick before they got together. She could feel her power threatening to burst out of her stomach. It took her a minute to realize what that feeling was.

A crush.

She had a crush on Tim Drake. Her eyes widened slightly at the realization, and her ears burned. She had ignored it for so long, but now, it was undeniable.

Tim noticed. Something in his gaze changed, and the corner of his mouth pulled up slightly. “I’ll take that as a maybe,” he said confidently. Bess didn’t tell him no. She took a moment to pull herself together. She cleared her throat and said, “maybe works.” It didn’t come out very loudly. Her knees felt weak. Her heart pounded in her chest.

“What was that?” Tim asked, and she picked up on the teasing tone in his voice. It relaxed her, in a way. He smirked devilishly and said, “I couldn’t hear you. A bit louder, please.”

Asshole.

Bess planted her hands on his chest and shoved. She held back as much as she could, given her emotional state, but he still stumbled back into the opposite pillar with a thud that was audible over the rain. He had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You know damn well what I said, Red Robin!” She shouted, putting her embarrassment into volume.

Tim laughed with his hand on his stomach. “Yeah, I heard you. I just wanted to hear you say it again.” He strode over to her, put his hands on her hips, and kissed her. Bess was surprised, and put her hands on his shoulders to shove him again, but then she found that she didn’t want to. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she melted.

She’d never kissed in the rain. She’d seen plenty of movies that romanticized it, but none of them did this feeling justice. She ran her hand up the back of Tim’s neck. She tangled her fingers in his wet hair and stood on her toes to get a better angle. He leaned into her, pressing her back against the brick. She could feel his hardened abdomen pressing against hers. The plates of their body armor clinked together.

Everything had changed so quickly, but it felt so natural. Bess liked kissing Tim, and it didn’t feel strange at all.

He tasted like coffee.

Tim broke the kiss first, panting slightly. “Holy shit,” he murmured, and kissed her again. She couldn’t help but to smile against his lips. He kissed her like he was starving. He broke the kiss again, staring down at her. He shook his head, and kissed her again. She giggled at his antics.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against her lips. She put her hand on his chest and pushed gently. “Slow down,” she told him, sucking in a breath. Tim’s expression was a mix of intensity and awe. “I’ve never-” he began, and paused. He shook his head and finished, “I’ve never had a kiss like that.”

“Really?” Bess asked.

“I don’t like kissing,” Tim explained, resting his forehead against hers. His eyes closed as he talked. “I never have. It’s just what you do when you like someone. But that was one of the most magical things I’ve ever experienced.”

A giggle bubbled out of Bess’s chest. “I’m glad you like it.” She said breathlessly.

“I want more,” he murmured, and cupped her cheeks in his hands. He kissed her again, his passion only building. The sound of his ragged breathing was intoxicating. Bess let her tongue dart out to brush over his lip. She heard his sharp inhale, and he returned the gesture a couple of times, as if he was testing the waters.

“Oracle to Red Robin.” They jumped away from each other as their radios chimed in their ears. Tim’s face was beet red. He cleared his throat and responded to the radio, “Here, Oracle. Go on.” He sounded breathless.

“Are you alright? You sound out of breath,” Oracle asked over the radio. Bess put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Tim winked at her. “Just fine, Oracle. What did you need?”

“Batman has wrapped up with Arkham. He wants to debrief the both of you at the Batcave. Now.”

Shit. We’re in trouble, Bess thought. By the look on Tim’s face, he was thinking the same thing.

“Phoenix and I are on the way,” Tim responded, then muted his end. “I guess this date will have to wait until later,” he said, gesturing to the space between them. He took hold of her hand and added, “but I will want to renegotiate that maybe.”

Chapter Text

It’s been a long week, Bess thought. Her hands moved automatically over her gear. At this point, she could do the maintenance in her sleep.

It had been a week since they’d rescued Tim’s parents. A week since they’d kissed. And she hadn’t seen him since. It wasn’t his fault, or hers. There was a lot to do: preparing the Drakes and Washingtons to leave Gotham, hunting down new leads on the Court, patrol, school, a weird fight with Harley Quinn, the list went on and on.

Calvin and Bruce were handling most of the casework for the Court. Calvin had good information. Bruce had resources. Together, Bess had no doubt that the two of them would finish the Court for good.

She wasn’t going on patrol tonight, though. It was Space Trek night. Tim is coming over. The thought made her heart race. Bess was nervous. After kissing him and then not seeing him for a week, she didn’t know how to act. She didn’t think she could just act normal, falling into their easy rhythm of friendship, not when so much had changed. She didn’t want to not do that, either. Was there a good middle ground?

The knock on the door made her jump. She looked up at the clock, startled. She’d been working on her gear for nearly three hours. She hadn’t even noticed the time pass.

The moment she laid eyes on Tim, she relaxed. He stood in the doorway with a dozen red roses and a winning smile. “Hey,” he said, trying to seem nonchalant. He leaned on the doorframe. It was a practiced casual look. The Drake Industries hoodie really sold it.

It had its intended effect. If he had shown up in a suit again, she would have felt awkwardly underdressed, with no time to change. She wouldn’t be comfortable during the show. His choice of clothing was perfect for watching tv together, perfect for a first date. Odd, that wouldn’t have mattered before. He’d shown up in his work suit plenty of times.

“Hey, Tim. Are those for me?” Bess asked.

“Of course they’re for you,” he held them out towards her. She took them and took in the obligatory deep inhale. They actually smell like roses. It meant Tim had gone to a real florist instead of the grocery store. It was such a little detail, but it warmed her heart.

“Come on in,” she stepped aside, inviting him in. She replaced last week’s irises with the roses. Their fragrance seemed to fill the air. Bess loved it.

“Bess?” Tim asked. She turned to look at him. He was sitting on the couch, his fingers laced together. “Did you want to talk, or start the show first?” He asked. It was a good question. Bess didn’t know the answer.

She sat next to him, just a few inches away. She mentally kicked herself for being so nervous. It was Tim, for heaven’s sake. He’d been her best friend for years. That hadn’t changed.

But so much has changed.

“We should probably talk,” Bess said, looking down at her knees.

She felt Tim’s smile more than she saw it. “About that maybe?” He asked. It teased a small smile out of her. “Good Lord, I hate being this nervous.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. It felt good to say them.

“Me too,” Tim admitted. It was a relief. She thought she was the only one. She looked up at him, at his eyes. That beautiful shade of blue that reminded her of the cornflowers in Virginia. They’d stopped on the side of the road to pick some every time they went camping together with Dick. She’d held them up to his face and complimented his eyes.

Tim took her silence as hesitation. “Look, if you’ve changed your mind-”

“No!” She blurted out. She cleared her throat and said calmly, “no, I haven’t. I want to try this. But you have to promise that even if it doesn’t work out, we’ll stay friends.”

“Deal.” Tim held out his hand in a business-like manner. Bess shook it.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Tim said with a mischievous look, “I’ve been waiting all week to kiss you, sweetness.”

Heat bloomed across Bess’s face. She felt a sudden rush of courage. She reached out, seized Tim’s face in her hands, and pulled him in. He smelled like aftershave and expensive cologne. It was a good mix. His jaw was smooth under her hands. She liked the way he tasted.

“That was exactly what I needed,” Tim said with a half-drunk smile once she let him go. Bess smiled, feeling her nerves melt away. “Want to watch the show?” She asked. Tim nodded.

Bess scooted closer to him, settling down to watch the movie. Their thighs pressed together. Tim put a hand on her thigh, making small circles with his fingers. It felt really nice. She leaned back and put an arm up behind his head. She ran her fingers through his hair. It was easy, natural, like nothing had really changed.

By the end of the the episode, Tim had fallen asleep. He always fell asleep watching tv with her. He was so tired all the time, and had Bruce’s bad habit of thinking that sleep wasn’t necessary to function. When he woke up at her house, the difference was noticeable.

“Tim,” she murmured, trying to get his attention. “Mmhmm?” He leaned his head towards her, his eyes still closed.

“Do you want to go to bed?” She asked softly. “It’s more comfortable than the couch.”

Tim cracked open one eye. His sleepy smile, with just a hint of mischief, should have been illegal. “Mmkay, sweetness.”

Bess got to her feet, stretching her arms above her head. Tim stood up next to her. He put one arm around her and leaned on her shoulders. “Carry me?” He asked, half joking. Bess put an arm around his back, and one under his knees. She scooped him up. He was practically weightless to her. His eyes widened when he found himself actually being carried. “You know, I keep forgetting about that,” he said.

“Allow me to remind you,” Bess said with laughter in her voice. Tim laughed with her. She swung him about in an exaggerated manner, like a child rocking a doll. Tim clung to her, laughing helplessly.

Bess stopped when she made it to her bed. It’s not like you haven’t slept next to Tim before, she told herself. I mean, you spend one night every week sleeping on the couch together.

This was different. They weren’t together then. Together, she thought, and just like that, the nerves were gone. Nothing had changed. She loved Tim. He loved her. The only thing that had changed was the context.

She tossed him from the doorway. He landed on the bed with a laugh and bounced a few times. “Damn, I weigh nothing to you, do I?”

“Nope,” she said with a grin.

“That’s hot,” he said with a teasing tone. She winked at him. “Let me get my bonnet,” she said, and headed into the bathroom. She tucked her hair into a red silk bonnet. She brushed her teeth, did her face routine, and put on some pajama shorts. She didn’t really notice that she was wearing Dick’s shirt until she had already left the bathroom. She figured Tim wouldn’t mind.

Tim was already under the covers, halfway asleep. His back was to her. She slipped under the covers and pressed her chest to his back. She put an arm over his waist and realized that he was shirtless. His skin was cool to the touch.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbled and scooted back to press his whole back against her. She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Do you like being little spoon?” She asked. Tim nodded. Normally, he just slept on top of her, with his head on her stomach or her shoulder. This was nice. She hugged him close, and closed her eyes.

Bess let her hands trace over Tim’s torso. Over his abs. Over his chest. Even relaxed, he had some solid muscle. She traced the shape of his hip bones, poking out of the top of his sweatpants. She traced his collar bones. In some places, she could feel the slightly raised spots where his scars were.

“I love you, Bess,” Tim murmured, his words heavily slurred. He was barely awake. Bess smiled and placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder. “I love you too, Tim.”

Chapter Text

It was as if the floodgates had finally burst. Tim could not get enough of Bess. It was bordering on obsession. Whenever they were together, he wanted to touch her all the time. He loved holding her hand. He loved the sweet way she kissed him. He loved the feeling of her fingers running through his hair.

When they weren’t together, she was constantly on his mind. The way the sunlight turned her brown eyes golden. The way her laughter filled up a room. The way her muscles tensed in a fight, not because of the effort of fighting, but from the effort of holding back. Her effortless strength. Her warmth. He’d been struggling to stay on task when they patrolled together. He hoped that would wear off, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t. Tim Drake never did anything halfway, and that included love.

It had been a month since he’d first kissed her in the Gotham rain. What a wonderful month it had been.

It was one of Gotham’s rare sunny days. Tim, Bess, Dick, and Barbara were having a picnic, their blanket spread out in front of Jason’s tombstone. Alfred had packed them some sandwiches and a pleasant white wine. It seemed strange to sit under the shade of a willow tree on a rare sunny day, but on rainy days, it wasn’t exactly shade. Dappled light filtered through onto the blanket and the four occupants. It gave the scene a magical feeling.

Tim thought it was going to be difficult, being part of the relationship, but it was as easy as breathing. Dick wasn’t the jealous type, and had openly expressed joy about Tim and Bess. Tim found that it was easy to follow suit. Maybe it helped that Dick wasn’t around often. It gave Tim time to get used to the idea.

That afternoon, Tim found that Dick’s flirtatious nature didn’t even bother him. If anything, it was fun to see the effect it had on Bess and Barbara.

“So, have you seen the glow yet?” Dick asked nonchalantly, taking a sip of wine. Bess nearly spit out her drink. “Dick!” She exclaimed indignantly.

“The glow?” Tim asked, looking between Dick and Bess. Judging by Bess’s reaction, it was something important.

“I guess not,” Dick said with a sly smile and a wink at Bess.

“What is the glow?” Barbara asked, her eyebrow raised.

Bess’s face darkened with a blush. “Nothing! He’s full of shit!” She exclaimed, kicking Dick in the leg. Dick winced, then smiled his classic easy-going smile. “Come on, Bess, he’s going to find out eventually.”

Tim’s curiosity burned in his mind. What could possibly get Bess that worked up? He wondered.

Bess hid her face in her hands. “Mind your own fucking business, Grayson,” she mumbled. Dick tossed his head back and laughed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Bess.”

“I’m not ashamed!” She squeaked. She cleared her throat and mustered her dignity, turning her head away from Dick. “It’s private, that’s all.” She was acting mad in the way that meant she wasn’t really mad. Bess’s real fury burned like the sun. Literally.

“Now I’m really curious,” Barbara said, and her knowing look told Tim that she was going to get the answer, one way or another. She asked, “what could possibly be so private that you want to hide it from us? ”

Bess huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Tim trailed his fingers down her spine, admiring the way she subtly leaned into him without giving up her indignation. “Come on, sweetness, why can’t I know?” He asked, tucking some hair behind her ear.

“It’s not that you can’t know,” Bess said. “Now just isn’t the time.” She aimed the last comment at Dick.

“You don’t want to warn him?” Dick asked. He was clearly teasing her. “I will end you,” she growled at him playfully. Dick laughed and shrugged. “Whatever you say, pretty girl.” Bess rolled her eyes in response.

“Oh no,” Barbara said, crossing her arms. “You’ve opened the can of worms now. You can’t just leave me hanging.”

“We can’t just leave her hanging, Bess.” Dick said with mock sympathy, gesturing towards Barbara. Bess opened her mouth a few times, as if she wanted to speak, but was unable to start. Dick turned to Barbara with his dazzling smile and said quietly, “she glows when she gets off.”

There was a brief moment of stunned silence. Tim was the one to break it. “No way,” he said, looking at Bess. “Really?”

Bess had her face in her hands. Her ears were dark with a blush. She nodded. Tim turned back to Dick and asked with genuine curiosity, “does it burn you?”

“No,” Dick replied with a wistful smile. “It’s not the same as her flames. It’s more like the warmth of a sunny day, and the glow fills the room.” It sounded beautiful. Tim desperately wanted to see it. Just like that, his obsession grew.

Barbara’s face was bright red, and her hand was covering her smile. It was cute. “You’re kidding. That is marvelous,” she said, looking at Bess.

“Thanks. Can we move on?” Bess pleaded, clearly embarrassed.

Tim didn’t want to move on. He wanted to poke and pry until he knew everything about her. He had to remind himself that he needed to be patient. He would find out in time.

Bess laid her head on his lap, looking up at him. Her hair fluffed out like a lion’s mane around her head. The dappled sunlight gave her the appearance of spots. Her smile was as warm as the sun. She was beautiful.

Tim’s phone chimed. It seemed to pull him out of a trance. He checked it, and smiled when he saw the photo that Dick sent him. It was a picture of him and Bess as they were now, just staring at each other with smiles on their faces. Dick had captioned it with “cute! ;P”

Tim saved it as his lock screen.

The sun only lasted a few hours before the clouds rolled in again. Bess helped Barbara back up into her chair, and they made their way down the hill, where Bruce’s car was waiting. Tim had the suspicion that Bruce intentionally left his keys where Dick could find them, but he couldn’t prove it. Nor did he want to. Stealing the car was half the fun.

The rain was coming down by the time they were all inside it. Dick and Bess sat up front, and Tim was next to Barbara in the back. Tim was behind Bess. “Back to the manor?” Dick suggested, looking in the rear view mirror at them.

Barbara checked her watch. “Actually, I should get back to the clock tower. Bruce will be heading out soon, and I really need to be in on this one.” She glanced up at Bess briefly. “He’s got a new lead on the Court.”

Bess turned her shoulders to look back at them, draping her arm over the seat. “Does he?” She asked casually. “I wonder when he was planning on telling me.”

“He wasn’t,” Barbara said with an odd stiffness. “But I thought you should know.”

“Can you give me details?” Bess asked. Barbara shook her head in response. Bruce probably ordered her not to, Tim thought. Bess frowned, and faced forward again. “Figures,” she muttered.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Tim said softly. “He’s just paranoid.” Bess let out a heavy sigh. “I know,” was all she said.

In order to avoid the awkward silence that threatened to consume them, Dick turned on the radio. “Stacy’s Mom” was playing. Dick’s smile widened, and after a moment of looking around, he began belting out the lyrics as loud as he could manage. Barbara laughed, and joined him. Bess looked like she was trying not to smile. Tim joined in too, though he only knew the chorus.

Bess tried to hide by looking out the window, but Dick wasn’t having it. He leaned over and elbowed her in the arm. She rolled her eyes, but she began singing as well. None of them were very good, not that they were trying to be, but there was something beautiful about the music between the four of them.

It was as if they were just meant to be together.

Chapter Text

Tequila was Bess’s favourite alcohol. It only took several shots of it to stop burning when it went down, and because Tim liked the expensive kind, it took even fewer. Bess bit into a lime slice, relishing the sharp sourness that flooded her mouth. She set the shot glass down on the counter, looking up at Tim.

His cheeks were flushed, and he had a lazy smile on his face. Cute, she thought, thinking about reaching over the counter and grabbing the front of his shirt. He still wore his button-down, only having returned from work an hour before. It was Space Trek night, and they’d decided to drink together at Tim’s apartment instead of Bess’s.

Tim’s apartment was nice. It was almost gothic, with black and maroon tones that accentuated the leather furniture. Bess knew that he had a hidden entrance to his base of operations somewhere in the apartment. He called it the “Robin Cave.” Bess had never seen it, but she really wanted to. She turned back to Tim, about to voice the desire, but when her eyes met his, a different type of desire flooded through her.

His intense blue eyes were locked on her. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up halfway. His muscular forearms were a work of art on their own. A few of the buttons of the shirt were undone. Bess wanted to rip open the rest.

“You look like you’re about to pounce, sweetness,” Tim said, tilting his head to the side. Bess’s lips twitched up into a smirk. “Maybe I am,” she replied coolly, leaning on the counter. “Would that be a problem?”

“Not at all,” Tim said, and took another shot. His nose still wrinkled when he bit the lime. It was amazing to Bess that something so small had such a big effect on her. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe she was just obsessed with Tim. Their relationship still had a newness to it that was exciting, but without all of the nerves that often came with the cupcake phase. They knew each other too well for that.

“Any word from Barbara?” Tim asked nonchalantly. He was frowning at the lime in his hand. He’d gotten juice on his shirt. Bess stifled a laugh and answered, “nothing yet. Bruce’s last lead was a bust, from what I hear, but they’ve got a new one. He’s going out tonight to check it out.”

Tim looked surprised. “You didn’t go?”

“Nothing short of an act of God could keep me from Space Trek night,” Bess said with an impish smile.

Tim laughed, then got a thoughtful look on his face. “What if we didn’t watch Space Trek tonight?” He began, visibly nervous. Bess cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Tim’s face flushed a deep red. He cleared his throat and avoided her gaze. Bess began to pick up on his meaning, but she wanted to hear him say it, so she waited with an innocent look on her face.

Tim sucked in a sharp breath, visibly building up courage. “Dick says that you glow,” he said after a moment. “I want to see it.”

Bess had to resist the urge to giggle. Tequila had that effect on her. She knew if she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop, and she didn’t want Tim to think she was making fun of him.

Tim mistook her silence for hesitance, and quickly added, “if you don’t want to, there’s no pressure!”

Bess slowly walked around the counter until they were on the same side of it. She liked to watch Tim squirm. She could feel his eyes tracking her as she moved. She came to a stop in front of him, and looked up. He had an odd expression on his face, caught somewhere between nervous anticipation and reverence.

“Keep looking at me like that, and it won’t take much,” she murmured, and stood on her toes to kiss him. She pressed her body against his, pushing him gently against the counter. She could feel him relax, melting against her. His hands rested on her hips. Hers snaked up over his shoulders. One arm lazily rubbed his back, the other hand delved into his hair.

When her tongue darted out to brush against his lip, a soft sound emerged from him. It was like a catalyst to her. She gripped his hair and yanked his head back. He hissed, his fingers digging into her hips. She placed kisses along his jaw, then down his throat, over his Adam's apple, and to his collar bones.

“Bess,” he whispered. She slowly drew her hands down and over his chest. “Look at me,” she purred. Tim obeyed. She gazed into his eyes, then in one swift movement, ripped open his shirt. Buttons went flying. A wide smile spread across Tim’s face; clearly he liked that. He asked teasingly, “do you know how much this shirt costs?”

“Do you know how much I don’t care?” Bess retorted. She ran her hands over his torso, around his pecs, down his abs; she traced over all of the little scars that littered his skin. She slid her fingers under the waistband of his pants. She could already see the bulge there.

“Do you want this, Tim?” Bess asked, brushing her lips over his chest. His head leaned back and his eyes fluttered shut. “Yes,” he breathed, barely audible.

“I didn’t hear you,” Bess said, and undid the button of his dress pants. Her fingers hovered on the zipper. “Do you want this?” She repeated, looking up to watch his reaction.

“Fuck yes, sweetness, please?” His voice hitched in his throat. The way he said “please” seemed to flip a switch for Bess. Desire took over her. She wanted to make him beg, to hear him gasp her name and plead for more. She kept it together long enough to say, “if I do anything you don’t like, tell me and we’ll stop, okay?” He nodded quickly and said suggestively, “I doubt that will be a problem.”

She jerked the shirt off of his shoulders and tossed it aside to be forgotten. Once his arms were free, Tim caught the hem of her tshirt and gave her a questioning look. She lifted her arms, and let him take it off of her.

His eyes danced over her body, slowly making their way up to her face. If he noticed the fresh scars, he didn’t mention them. Instead his lips parted, as if he were trying to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

She didn’t give him time to pull himself together. She kissed him roughly, tangling her hand in his hair and devouring his lips. His hands raced over her body, feeling every inch. She pressed her chest to his, melting into his the coolness of his skin.

She broke the kiss a moment later, panting softly. Tim looked absolutely desperate, his hair a complete mess, breathing heavily.

“Take these off,” she tugged twice at his pants, “and go sit on that fancy couch of yours.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tim replied with a sly smile. It was the right thing to say. Bess felt desire building in her like a bonfire. “Good boy,” she said, and let him go. Tim’s expression went from sly to a look of desperate hunger. He made his way over to the couch, and dropped his dress pants to the floor. “Those too,” Bess said, gesturing to his boxers. She leaned on the counter to watch.

Tim was gorgeous. He looked like he’d been sculpted by a master. Even his movements were artistic. He sat down on the couch, his legs spread slightly, not even shy about showing her how much he wanted her. Bess could feel the heat between her legs building. She reached back and unclipped her bra, letting it drop to the floor. She cupped her breasts in her hands, squeezing slightly, just to watch his expression.

He looked like he was craving her. His mouth opened slightly, his eyebrows pulled together, and his eyes widened. She took off the rest of her clothes and slowly walked in his direction. She intentionally put sway into her steps, rocking her hips side to side, one slow step at a time. Tim watched her like a hawk.

“Do you like what you see?” She asked him. Tim nodded quickly and said, “fuck yes I do.”

“Yes what?” She asked, putting a hand on her hip.

“Yes ma’am,” Tim breathed. He scooted forward on the couch, reaching towards her. She clicked her tongue and put her hand to his throat, shoving him back into the cushions. She put one knee between his legs and leaned over him. “Fuck,” his voice caught in his throat, and he gazed up at her as if he were worshipping her.

“You’re such a pretty boy, Tim,” Bess said, eager for his reaction. His face flushed beet red, and he looked surprised and aroused at the same time. Bess lifted his jaw, forcing him to look up at her. “I just want to devour you,” she purred, leaning down and biting his bottom lip. She tugged gently, then let him go. He let out a low moan, his breath hitching. “Sweetness, please,” he breathed.

“I couldn’t hear you, speak up,” she ordered him. “Please,” he said, louder this time. He put his hands on her hips. “Please, Bess, I need you.”

“Do you?” Bess asked coyly. The hand that wasn’t gripping his jaw trailed down his chest. His eyes rolled back and fluttered close. “Yes,” he whimpered.

“Poor thing, you’re all worked up and I haven’t even touched you yet,” she teased. She leaned forward and nibbled his earlobe. She could feel him tense. His hands gripped her thighs, his fingers digging in.

“Did I say you could touch me?” Bess asked, taking her hand off his chest to smack his arm lightly. Tim’s arms dropped to his sides, and he looked up at her with a desperate gaze. “You need to ask first,” Bess said. She shifted to straddle his waist. She squeezed his throat and grinded against him, earning a strangled moan.

“Please, sweetness, please let me touch you,” he begged. It was like adding fuel to a fire. Bess reached down and took hold of Tim’s wrists. She guided his hands to rest on her ass. His palms ran over the curve of the flesh, his expression something akin to reverence.

She cupped his face in her hands and brushed her thumb over his lip. One of his hands left her ass and grabbed her wrist. He pressed rapid kisses on her palm and her fingers. His other hand followed the curve of her waist upward, until his thumb was brushing the underside of her breasts.

“You have a magnificent body,” he murmured against her palm. “I love your tits. Fucking perfect.” He looked up at her and added, “and an ass to die for.”

Bess giggled, feeling butterflies in her chest. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?” She asked, pressing her weight down against his legs. “You have sexy thighs, amazing pecs, fucking incredible shoulders,” she praised. She touched all of the parts she talked about with featherlight fingers. “Your back muscles are a masterpiece.”

Tim beamed at the adoration she showered on him. “I want to fuck you so badly,” he said, his voice strained and husky.

“Say please,” she murmured in his ear.

“Please,” Tim begged, growing more and more intensely desperate with each word. “Please, Bess, I need you. I need you!” He tried to sit up some, but she pushed him back down, her hands firmly on his shoulders. “Please,” he whimpered, rolling his hips into her. His breathing was erratic. She could feel his hands trembling on her hips.

“Good boy,” she praised, running a gentle hand through his hair. She asked, “where do you keep the condoms?”

“In the bedroom, the drawer in the nightstand on the left side,” he answered quickly. Bess got to her feet, and told him firmly, “don’t fucking move.” He nodded obediently, and she went to retrieve the condoms.

She stood in front of him, taking a moment to admire how much of a mess he was. She couldn’t wait to see what he looked like when he came. She knelt between his knees, holding the corner of the package in her mouth. She ran her hands up his thighs, earning a gasp and a shudder from him.

She opened the package and slowly rolled the condom onto his dick, her eyes never leaving his face. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. “Bess,” he whispered. “You’re so cute when you’re desperate, Tim,” she told him. He smiled, letting out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a laugh. “You make me feel desperate,” he replied breathlessly.

Bess paused when she heard her phone ringing. It sounded distant, as if she were in another world from it. “Do you need to get that?” Tim asked, sounding as if he wanted the answer to be no.

“Nope,” Bess opted to ignore it. “Fuck ‘em. This is more important.” Whoever it was could wait.

She got up and straddled Tim’s hips again. The phone stopped ringing. Bess cupped Tim’s face in her hands and hovered over his dick. “Tell me how desperate you are,” she said, pressing her forehead against his.

“Fuck,” Tim groaned. “Sweetness, I need you so fucking bad it hurts. I want to know what you feel like,” he purred. “I want to see you glow.”

Bess braced her hands on Tim’s shoulders and lowered herself down onto his dick slowly. Tim gripped her hips tightly, his breathing erratic. “F-Fuck,” he hissed. “God, you’re so fucking tight, ” he moaned. His arms wrapped around her back and he pulled her close, burying his face in her shoulder. She giggled and scraped her nails over his back. He shivered beneath her touch.

She began rocking her hips at an agonizingly slow pace. Up and down, combined with a little grinding. She settled into an almost circular motion. Tim moaned into her shoulder. His teeth grazed her flesh, his breath hot on her skin.

“Tell me what you want, Tim,” Bess said sweetly. Her own breathing began to speed up. Tim let out a little whimper, and she picked up the pace. “I want more,” he pleaded, pulling his head back to look up at her. His eyes met hers, and she felt like he could see her very soul.

“Please,” he moaned. “Please, sweetness.”

Fuck, that’s hot, Bess thought, unable to keep the triumphant grin off her face. “Good boy,” she purred, and sped up more until her hips were slamming into his. She pushed him back against the couch and put a hand around his throat. He let out a strangled moan, and brought one hand up. His fingers curled around her wrist, and pulled her arm to apply more pressure. Unable to speak, he mouthed, harder.

Bess was happy to oblige. She was careful not to squeeze too hard, but she applied enough pressure to cut off his breathing. She could feel his throat quivering against her palm. He put his hands together and held them up to her. He mouthed, please?

“You’re into some dirty shit, pretty boy,” Bess purred. “I fucking love it.” She took his wrists in her free hand and held them behind his head against the back of the couch. She slammed her hips into his, feeling a little desperate herself. The way he submitted to her really turned her on. She angled her hips back, so that his dick hit her g-spot with every bounce. A small moan spilled from her lips.

“Fuck,” Tim wheezed when she loosened her grip enough to let him breathe for a moment. “I wanna hear that more.” He gazed up at her with a look of hunger. Bess squeezed his neck again. 

“Fuckin hell, Tim,” she groaned, her head lolling forward, then rolling back. “Your cock is amazing,” she praised. Tim smiled, sex drunk and unable to say anything. He was able to breathe, but just barely. She could hear the effort of the air dragging through his throat. She loved the sound.

Tim’s eyes widened and rolled back in his head. He tried to say something, but couldn’t get the words out. “What was that?” Bess asked breathlessly, and loosened her grip just a little.

“Sweetness,” he rasped, “please, I-” he bit his lip, cutting himself off, and closed his eyes tightly. Bess could feel his cock swelling. It felt so good. She could feel her legs trembling. “Me too,” she moaned. She could feel the numbness building in her legs. Her toes curled. She gasped out, “open your eyes.” She swallowed, trying to even out her breath, and added, “I want to see them when you cum.” Tim’s brilliant blue eyes met hers. He gave her a sultry look. She squeezed his throat and murmured, “good boy.”

Tim’s body stiffened all at once, and he let out a series of strangled moans. With each breath came another sound. He struggled to keep his eyes open. His expression was so erotic; it was almost enough to send Bess over the edge. She pushed Tim’s head back, her fingers curled around his jaw, until her arm was straight and his head was pressed against his wrists. She released his hands. They immediately flew to her thighs, his thumbs digging into the flesh. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he praised her breathlessly. “I want to watch you.”

Bess released his neck. She braced her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her with open adoration, with a smile that would make anyone swoon. It was the smile that set her off.

Her orgasm coursed through her in waves. She tossed her head back and cried out Tim’s name. She stopped moving, her back arched, the muscles rippling with the tension. If her eyes had been open, she would have seen her glow filling the dark room. She might have even seen the way Tim looked at her, full of admiration and awe and complete devotion. He looked at her as if she were the sun itself, and he was just there to bask in her light.

When she came back down, she let her body slump against Tim’s. She gasped for air. Tim’s cool hands trailed up and down her back. He was shaking a little beneath her. She was shaking too.

“That glow is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Tim murmured after they’d caught their breath. “You are a work of art, sweetness.”

Bess sat up and kissed him. He let out a little sound of delight and hugged her close, kissing her deeply. “Oh, I love that,” he mumbled against her lips. Bess giggled, feeling a great swell of emotion in her chest.

When she pulled away, Tim had a cheeky little smirk on his face. He tilted his head to the side, flashing that alluring smile, and asked, “are you up for round two?”

Chapter Text

Bess liked going to galas. She would never admit it, because then Bruce would ask her to go to every single one, and that was just too much. But every now and then, she loved putting on all the glamor and going out as a Wayne girl. It also meant she got to stay in her room at the Wayne Manor while she got ready. It was nostalgic.

Tonight’s dress was a crimson off the shoulder fit-and-flare, with a subtle sparkle to it. It hugged her body in all the right ways, and flared out at the bottom. When she spun, she felt like a princess out of a storybook. “Gotham’s Princess” is what the press liked to call her. A fitting title, for the daughter of Bruce Wayne.

The diamond studs in her ears peered out from under her afro like two little stars in the night. Her lipstick matched the color of the dress. She wore a delicate silver watch that Bruce had given her for her birthday, and a ruby ring with a silver band. She wore silver dancing shoes. The heel wasn’t too tall, but it did add an inch or two to her height.

She had yet to decide on a necklace. She didn’t want to go overboard, but she didn’t want it to be too simple either. If I go with pearls, she thought, I’ll have to change the earrings. It was refreshing to have such a trivial problem. Most of her problems seemed larger than life.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in!” Bess called out, still mulling over jewelry. She saw Tim in the mirror. He was dressed in a sleek black tuxedo, with a red tie. He looked incredible.

“How is it that you manage to look drop-dead sexy in anything you wear?” She asked casually, meeting his gaze in the mirror. He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks Bess,” he said. “You look absolutely stunning.” He approached her and kissed her hand. It brought butterflies to her stomach.

“I have something for you,” Tim said, reaching into his jacket pocket. He retrieved a small black box, and opened it. Inside was a silver chain with a drop cut diamond pendant hanging from it. Bess’s eyes widened. “Tim, you shouldn’t have!”

“Can’t have my girl going out with anything less than the best,” Tim said with a casual shrug. He took the necklace out of the box and held it up with a questioning look. Bess nodded and turned to face the mirror.

Tim put the necklace around her neck. It hung just below her collarbones, resting on the tip of her sternum. Bess beamed at the mirror. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. Her heart seemed to swell in her chest.

“So are you,” Tim replied, and kissed her cheek. “Are you ready? The car’s waiting.”

“One moment.” She went to her wardrobe and retrieved a black mink shawl. It had been Martha Wayne’s. Bruce had offered to let her borrow it for the gala tonight. It was soft against her skin, and had that wonderful antique smell. Bess’s favorite part was the subtle expression of love from Bruce in letting her wear it. She had vowed to take excellent care of it.

She took Tim’s arm and let him lead her out the door, down the grand staircase, and outside, where the limousine was waiting. Alfred waved them off, calling after them to enjoy the evening.

Dick and Bruce were already in the car. It was rare for all of them to be going to a gala together, but Bruce had insisted. Apparently, he had suspicions about members of the Court attending the gala, and wanted as many friendly eyes as possible. It had taken quite some time to convince Dick to go.

“Wow, Bess,” Dick said, patting the seat next to him in the back of the limo. “You look amazing. You too, Tim. You clean up good.”

Bess beamed at the praise and sat next to him. “Thanks, Dick. You look great.” He was wearing a tuxedo similar to Tim’s, but his tie was blue. It made his eyes pop.

Bruce, of course, wore a black tie. He was staring intensely at his forearm, meaning he was using his Waynetech contacts. If Bess looked closely, she could just barely see the white film over his eyes. He reached over and flipped down the visor for the window to the driver. The driver would hear nothing. “After the gala,” Bruce began in his Batman voice, “I’ll be going to the opening of Arkham City.”

“They’ve gone through with it?” Dick asked. He’d been out of the loop over the last few months. Work had picked up in Bludhaven.

Bruce nodded. “They’re already transporting prisoners. I’ll probably leave the gala a little early and make a scene.” He smiled so slightly, Bess wasn’t sure if it had actually happened. Bruce continued, “It’ll be up to you three to tag any potential members of the Court and investigate them tonight. Try to keep it discreet. We don’t want them catching on to our real identities.”

There have already been too many close calls, Bess thought. She asked, “what about Calvin?”

“Calvin is hoping that their hideout will be left unguarded,” Bruce said. “He’s doing some recon work. I’ve told him to contact you if he runs into trouble,” he gestured with his head to Bess. Bess nodded.

“Are we using radios tonight?” Tim asked.

“Yes,” Bruce held out the little ear pieces. “Brand new from Waynetech,” he said with a hint of warmth in his voice. “Courtesy of Lucius. These are discreet enough to wear at the gala. They may not be as comfortable as our usual gear, but they’ll serve their purpose.” He went over a quick instruction on how to use them. They came with a small control panel that was touch activated, and could be hidden under their clothes. Bess put hers on her thigh under her dress. She’d be able to touch it through the fabric.

“I’ve already given Barbara hers,” Bruce added. “She’ll be attending with Jim.”

The new radio made Bess feel like she had a pea stuck in her ear. It was less than comfortable, but it was essentially invisible from the outside. It would serve its purpose.

It didn’t take long to get from the manor to the gala, hosted at Astoria Towers, one of the major luxury hotels on Founder’s Island. Bess loved Founder’s at night. Awash in blue and purple lights, the buildings sparkled like stars. As they got closer to the hotel, she could see people lined up on the streets, dressed to the nines. Some pointed at their car as they drove by.

Bess looked over to Dick, expecting to see him smiling. He looked rather distant. She nudged him, and raised her eyebrows. He shrugged and looked down at his lap. She put a hand on his knee. He put his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers, then retrieved his phone from his pocket. He did that when he didn’t want other people to know what he was thinking.

Bess looked at the message on her own phone. Dick wrote, “just thinking about the Court, the circus, my life. I loved that place. It’s a tough pill to swallow.”

He feels betrayed, Bess thought. He probably had for a while now. Bruce had discovered that Dick was supposed to be the next talon, but his parents had died before that could happen. Haly’s circus was a breeding ground for the Court’s talons. It must have been hard to hear. Haly had been like a father to Dick.

Bess hadn’t been around when Dick found out, but the fallout had put a rift between him and Bruce for months. It probably had something to do with the tooth that Bruce had knocked out of Dick’s mouth. It had a court seal on it, marking him as the court’s next target, and had served as proof of the conspiracy.

They’d only just begun to be civil again. It was amazing that Dick had agreed to come tonight. One of the stipulations had been that he would get to punch Bruce in return. He hadn’t actually followed through yet, but Bess had no doubt that he would.

“Can I do anything?” She texted back, squeezing his knee with her other hand.

“You can keep looking as good as you do. Distraction helps.” Dick smiled when he sent the message.

“Care to share with the class?” Tim asked, his voice laced with humor. Bess rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out. “None of your business, Tim,” she teased.

“I’m just feeling sorry for myself,” Dick said humorously. “Don’t worry about it.”

Bruce glanced up briefly, but didn’t say anything.

The limo slowly rolled to a stop. Bruce got out first, and the noise of the crowd washed over them. Bright lights flashed as cameras went off. Reporters eager to hear from Bruce Wayne clamored at the edge of the ropes around the red carpet. Bruce waved, putting on his “Brucie” smile. Then he turned back towards the car and held his hand out towards Bess.

Bess took it, putting on a dazzling smile of her own. She stepped out of the car and hooked her fingers around Bruce’s arm. She beamed at the cameras and let Bruce lead her up the stairs, into the building. Dick and Tim followed them, each playing it up for the cameras. Something about the attention gave Bess a thrill. Being a Wayne wasn’t always about brooding and beating up criminals. Sometimes, it was good to just enjoy being rich.

Inside, the banquet hall was already bustling. Servers in sharp suits and bowties rushed around serving champagne and hors d’oeuvres to Gotham’s elite. The general public wouldn’t be let in for another couple of hours. One of the servants took Bruce’s coat and Bess’s shawl, whisking them away to a closet. They were given tickets for retrieval. Having no pockets, Bess tucked hers in her bra.

“Bruce!” A familiar man in a pearl-colored tie approached them with arms spread wide. “Tommy!” Bruce said with a genuine smile, and embraced the man close. They patted each other’s backs heartily. “How’s Alfred?” Thomas asked. “Just fine, he sends his greetings,” Bruce replied.

Thomas turned to Bess. “Bessie, you look lovely, as always.” He took her hand and placed a chaste kiss on the knuckles. Bess bowed her head slightly. “Good to see you, Mr. Elliot.”

“Mr. Elliot?” Thomas put on a look of mock offense. “My dear, you will be the death of me.”

“Alright, Thomas,” Bess said, beaming. She and Thomas always had the same conversation, going way back to when Bruce had first taken her in. It was a tradition, at this point, and one Bess took great joy in.

“How is school going?” Thomas asked. Normally, the question would be simply polite, but with Thomas, Bess knew he was actually interested. She glowed with pride. “In a few months, you can attend my graduation. You may even hear the words summa cum laude. ”

Thomas looked both shocked and delighted. “You were always a brilliant one, Bess. I’m so proud.”

“So am I,” Bruce said with a soft smile at Bess. She knew he meant it.

Dick and Tim approached, both already having glasses of champagne in their hands. “Good to see you, Thomas,” Tim greeted, shaking Thomas’s hand. “Tim!” Thomas clapped his shoulder. “It feels like it’s been ages!”

“It has,” Dick said, holding out his own hand. Thomas took it, and pulled him in for a half hug. “Dick, my boy, you’ve been hiding in Bludhaven for far too long.”

Bess accepted a glass of champagne from one of the server’s trays. Mingling was easy. Bruce and Dick made fools of themselves, much to the delight of Gotham. Tim was always networking at these sorts of events. Even here, work came first.

Bess liked to be a social butterfly at galas. With how hard she worked at school, and on patrol, it was nice to just be able to socialize, even if she didn’t particularly care for most of Gotham’s elite. It was good for the family image to be friendly. She spent time flitting from group to group, mentally marking people into groups. Likely Court, maybe Court, and definitely not Court.

After about an hour, the press was let inside. Bess stiffened as Vicki Vale made a beeline for her. Vicki could be an annoyance, but Bruce had made it quite clear that they needed to be nice to the reporter. She could ruin them if she put her mind to it. A few times, she’d even gotten close to discovering Bruce’s little secret.

Fortunately, Vicki was more interested in mundane gossip about the family, and in courting Bruce. Bess put on a polite smile. “Good evening, Miss Vale,” she said. “Is that a new haircut?”

Vicki had gone blonde, and cut her hair to a short bob. “You noticed!” Vicki exclaimed with a smile. “It suits you,” Bess said, gesturing with her champagne glass. “I thought you would be covering the opening of Arkham City tonight,” Bess commented with a hint of question in her voice.

“I will be, when I’m done here. Prisoners won’t actually arrive for another few hours. It’s still early.” Vicki said, then retrieved a small notepad from her purse. “Does Gotham’s Princess have time for a few questions?”

Bess nodded, mentally bracing herself. She wondered what insane rumors Vale had come up with this time. She passed off her champagne glass to a passing servant, and gave her full attention to Vicki.

“There’s been some rumors that you’ve been seen out with Tim Drake recently,” Vicki said suggestively. “Any comment?”

Bess intentionally hid her smile behind her hand and played shy. “No comment,” she said coyly. It was an invitation to pry. As much as she didn’t like the idea of her and Tim’s relationship ending up in the tabloids, it would be enough hot gossip to keep the reporters busy for months.

“And the rumors you’ve been seen at his apartment?” Vicki’s smile was wolfish. She leaned forward, not bothering to disguise her eagerness.

“Surely there’s nothing scandalous about spending time with my best friend, Vicki,” Bess said, darting her gaze to the side. If she was honest with herself, she loved the act of getting reporters to chase their own tails.

“Best friend, or boyfriend?” Vicki asked, winking at Bess.

A warm hand rested on the small of her back, and she smelled Tim’s cologne before she saw him. “Are you harassing my lady, Vicki?” Tim’s voice was music to her ears. She subconsciously leaned towards him, her arm brushing the fabric of his shirt.

Vicki looked as if she had won the lottery. In a way, she had. “Mr. Drake, are you confirming a relationship between you and Miss Brown?”

Tim laughed, in the way that rich men laugh when they want to look good. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Miss Vale,” he said glibly. “We’re just courting.”

Smart move, Bess thought. Now the press would be interested in the progression of their relationship. She looked down at the floor, putting on a bashful act, and turned her body to face Tim’s.

Vicki scribbled furiously in her notepad. She looked like a cat that got into the cream. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Tim cut her off. “If you’ll excuse us, Miss Vale, I’d like to ask Gotham’s Princess for a dance.” He offered his hand to Bess, then took a last look at Vicki. “Besides,” he said, gesturing to the door. “It looks like Bruce is leaving. You wouldn’t want him to get away without an interview.”

That sent the reporter scurrying away. Bess let out a sigh of relief. “Well done,” she murmured when Vicki was out of earshot.

Tim replied, “that will keep them busy for a while. Between that and Arkham City, she’ll be busy for weeks. Though,” he glanced down at her with an apologetic smile, “they’re probably going to hound you all night.”

“I can live with that,” Bess replied. “Salsa?” She asked hopefully.

Tim got the attention of the band conductor. He left Bess’s side and went over to speak with the conductor. They put their heads together, and Tim’s mouth moved. Bess was too far to hear him. The conductor nodded, and Tim returned to Bess. A lively salsa began playing. Tim put his arm around Bess’s waist and pulled her close until she was flush against him.

Bess loved dancing, and she especially loved dancing with Tim. Her pasted-on smile quickly turned to a genuine grin as they spun around the dancefloor, between other couples, showing off flashy moves that they’d practiced for hours at a time. She was vaguely aware of cameras flashing, but she didn’t care much.

Tim ended the dance with a classic dip. Bess had to suppress a giggle.

“Tim! Bess!” Bess looked over to the sound of Barbara’s voice. She waved at them from a spot near the door, still in the process of handing off her shawl. She wore a lavender gown and white evening gloves. Her hair was in an updo. She looked lovely.

“Barbara!” Bess called out to her, striding across the space between them. “Jim, it’s good to see you.” She greeted the Commissioner respectfully. Jim smiled warmly, the edges of his mustache curling up. “Bess, Tim,” he greeted them both in turn. “Anything interesting so far?”

“Bruce has already left,” Tim said. Jim frowned. “Already?”

“He wanted to go to the opening of Arkham City.” Bess added.

“Of course he did,” Jim said, his shoulders looking weighed down. “Pain in my ass, both him and Strange. Tonight won’t end well.”

Bess exchanged a glance with Barbara. Barbara casually rubbed her ear, appearing to be adjusting her earring. Bess got the message. My radio is on.

“Commissioner Gordon,” a new voice caused their heads to turn. An older woman with a feathered shawl and a golden owl necklace approached them. Bess recognized her as Maria Powers. Bess had slotted her in the definitely Court category.

“Madame Powers,” Jim greeted her with a bow of his head. “How’s Mr. Powers doing?” The Powers family was one of the most influential families in Gotham, and had been since the establishment of their hotel in the 50’s. Maria Powers was the matriarch, and her husband John was absent tonight, supposedly recovering from a surgery to remove cancer from his leg.

“He’s doing well, thank you for asking,” Maria answered with a polite smile. “The Doctor said he’ll be up and walking in a few weeks.”

“That’s great to hear,” Tim said, smiling warmly.

Maria wanted something. Bess could see it in the way she held her hands, squeezing her fingers together. Maria’s pale eyes landed on Bess, and Bess felt a chill run down her spine. “Bessie, my dear, could I borrow you?” Maria asked sweetly. “Since Bruce has so conveniently escaped,” she added, glancing toward the door with a disapproving look.

“Of course, Madame Powers,” Bess said. The older woman took hold of Bess’s arm, and firmly escorted her towards one of the balconies.

“We’re watching your back,” Dick’s voice rang through her radio. It was a bit of a relief, knowing she was being watched. Bess tapped her leg discreetly under the guise of adjusting her skirt, turning on input for her radio. The others would hear everything Maria had to say.

“I hear you and Mr. Drake are a bit of an item,” Maria commented once they were out of earshot. The cool evening air gave Bess goosebumps. She replied, “news travels fast, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does, dear,” Maria said in an almost affectionate manner. “It’s a good match, in my opinion.”

“Thank you,” Bess said. “I’m glad you approve.”

“He’s a good boy from a good family, and you’re a strong young woman with drive. I know you two will make an excellent team. You’re graduating soon, yes?”

“I am,” Bess replied, wondering where this was going.

“Excellent. A smart young lady indeed,” Maria said. There was something wistful about her tone.

Maria stopped out on the balcony, and released Bess’s arm. “I assume you’ll be aiming for a doctorate?” She asked, looking out over the evening. Gentle rain pattered on the awning above them.

“That is the plan,” Bess answered.

Maria’s lips pursed, as if she had tasted something sour. “If only my son was as bright as you. He’s content to waste away his trust fund in Europe, doing nothing productive with his life.” She sighed, then turned to Bess. A wry smile spread slowly across her face. “But you and I are of a different sort, aren’t we?”

Bess didn’t get the chance to answer. Maria said, “you and I are the movers of this world. We make things happen. We see what we want, and we take it.” She held up her hand and closed her fist, as if she were snatching something out of the air.

“There’s no other way to get things done,” Bess agreed. She had a feeling this conversation was more significant than Maria was letting on. Maria had never been particularly interested in Bess before now, beyond the occasional polite greeting. Something had changed. Bess wasn’t sure what.

“I’m glad you agree, my dear,” Maria said with a satisfied nod. “Because I’m about to boost you to new heights. I have a proposition that I think you’ll like.” Maria leaned forward, as if she were telling a secret. Bess leaned in to meet her.

“The Court has been watching you, and we are pleased with what we see,” Maria whispered, barely audible above the rain. “Play your cards right, and you may become one of us.”

Fear ripped through Bess, and flashes of white masks ran through her mind. She blinked a few times, and smothered the feeling. “The Court?” She asked, playing dumb.

“The real movers of Gotham,” Maria explained. Her eyes glistened with excitement. One of her hands gripped Bess’s shoulders, the talon-like nails digging into her skin. “You’ve got real potential, my dear. We would see it bloom.”

Bess had expected to encounter the Court tonight, and she had suspected Maria was involved. However, she hadn’t expected them to fall right into her lap. It seemed too good to be true.

“I’m honored, Madame,” Bess said, adding a bit of breathiness to her voice, as if she was in awe. Maria nodded approvingly. “As you should be.” She released Bess’s shoulder. “It’s a shame you never got to meet Thomas or Martha, God rest their souls. They had the same drive as you, the same fire in their souls. Their death was a tragedy,” Maria shook her head solemnly. “It would seem that Bruce has no interest in making good on the Wayne family name, but you could take it to new heights.”

Bess had to swallow the indignation that welled up in her throat. Pride would not help her now. Still, it would seem strange if she didn’t stand up for him a little. “He’s been a good father,” Bess said, sounding uncertain.

“His money has been good to you, dear, but he’s shown you nothing of power. He may be Gotham’s favorite pet billionaire, but he knows nothing about how this city works. I can show you the real power in Gotham.” Maria said, her nose scrunching as she mocked Bruce.

Bess lowered her head, appearing as if she were accepting Maria’s words. “Please, Madame, I would greatly appreciate it.” She felt as if she were choking on the statement, but it came out smoothly. She added, "I want to do more."

Maria smiled, clearly pleased. She took Bess’s hand, and placed a small brown paper package in it. The contents were hard, and oddly shaped. “Come to this address, and bring the key. I’m sure you’ll figure out the rest. No great mind goes untested.” Maria patted her hand in an affectionate manner, then left. She swept back into the building, leaving Bess out on the balcony alone.

Bess opened the package. Inside was a slip of paper with a set of coordinates inside. There were 3 numbers, instead of 2. It looked like the location was underground. It could be a trap. Even if it was, Bess couldn’t pass up the opportunity to infiltrate the Court.

Along with the slip of paper, there was a key. It was simple brass, and the head was in the shape of an owl.

Chapter Text

Barbara turned the owl-shaped key over in her hands, trying to bury the anxiety roiling in her gut. “It’s a trap,” she said. “It has to be.” She looked up at Bess, still in her evening gown, and said, “you shouldn’t go.”

“It may be a trap,” Bess replied, “but do you have a better idea?”

Their finery seemed out of place in the Batcave. After Bruce Wayne had been taken as a political prisoner in Arkham City, Jim had asked if Barbara could stay at the Wayne Manor. He suspected that Hugo Strange might come for him next, and he didn’t want Barbara involved. It was a reasonable request. Little did he know that Barbara was watching Bruce like a hawk. Barbara, Bess, Dick, and Tim had left the gala together, and now they were gathered in the Batcave, discussing what to do next while watching Batman move around the massive prison map displayed on the monitors.

“At least let me go with you,” Dick said, pausing his pacing to plead with Bess. Bess shook her head, putting up one hand as if to push him away. “If I bring you, they’ll know something’s up. Maria Powers is not a forgiving woman. If I want to infiltrate the Court, I need to go alone.”

“What about Bruce?” Tim asked. He was leaning against a railing. His tie was undone, hanging loosely over his shoulders. “I don’t think he’ll like the idea of you facing the Court alone.”

“Bruce doesn’t need to know until it’s over,” Bess replied sharply. “Besides, he may not even be back by tomorrow.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Bess hadn’t said, he may not come back at all. Whatever titan-based sickness Joker had infected Batman with, it was bad, and he had a limited time to fix it. But Bess couldn’t worry about that now. Batman could handle himself, and he had already refused help when Robin offered.

Barbara set the key down on the steel counter in front of the Bat Computer's control panel. She hung her head and let out a heavy sigh. “At least take a radio with you,” she said, conceding. Bess smiled comfortingly. “Of course I will, Babs. You’ll hear everything I hear.”

“Not the one you have now though, those are short range only.” Barbara added as an afterthought. Bess was just happy to get the damn thing out of her ear.

Dick scowled, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t like this, Bess.” His eyebrows pinched together as if he had a headache. “We already lost you to them once,” he said quietly enough that Bess almost didn’t hear him.

“To be fair,” Bess began tentatively, “I was being mind controlled that time.”

“And how do you know they won’t do it again?” Dick asked, putting his hands on his hips in exasperation. “How do you know Poison Ivy’s not with them? How do you know they don’t have another way to control you? How do you know they won’t gas you again? We don’t know what they did to you while you were under Ivy’s control.”

“Poison Ivy is not in Gotham,” Barbara cut in. “We can rule out any control from her.”

Bess gestured to Barbara, emphasizing her point.

Dick ground his jaw back and forth. The veins in his temple were visible. “Bess,” he started, his voice strained. He put his hands on Bess’s shoulders and met her gaze. She could see the distress all over his face; he wasn’t trying to hide it.

“I’ve lost you twice. I’ve failed you twice,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I left you in enemy hands, and you were hurt. Don’t ask me to do it again. Please.”

Bess almost folded. Almost. This was too big an opportunity to pass up, but she couldn't just dismiss his fears. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Dick. "It was never your fault," she murmured. He clung to her tightly, his face buried in her hair. She breathed deep, her cheek pressed to the fabric of his blazer. They embraced in silence for a long time.

“I have to go, Dick,” Bess gently insisted. She could feel him tense, as if he were resisting something. He let out a shaky breath. It was unsettling, seeing him this upset before anything had even happened yet. He was usually the most put together of all of them. He was always smiling, but now, she could feel his desperation and fear. Bess wanted to comfort him, but she wasn’t sure how.

Dick stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. He grimaced, trying to force a smile. She could see the tension in his shoulders. “The mission comes first, right?” He said through gritted teeth, then patted her shoulder awkwardly.

“You sound like Bruce,” Bess said, offering a small smile.

“Oh God,” Dick rolled his eyes, smiled that dazzling smile, and it was like a spell had been broken. “Don’t say that,” he groaned, then put his palm to his forehead. “I couldn’t live with myself if I turned into Bruce!”

Tim snorted, rolling his eyes. “Oh please, you’re just like him. The only difference is you’re less broody.”

Dick put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “How could you say that to your own brother!?”

“Easily. Wanna see me say it again?” Tim had a shit-eating grin on his face. He and Dick started tussling, each trying to knock the other off-balance. Barbara laughed, leaning her head back. “Boys,” she said, shaking her head. “Right?” Bess replied, stepping out of the way of the pair.

“Speaking of Bruce,” Bess began, turning her head towards the Bat Computer. “It’s not good,” Barbara said, her lips thinning to a tight line. She tapped at the keys. “I’m worried about him. He’s got hours at most to find a cure.” She said it quietly, where the boys wouldn’t hear over their fighting.

“Do you think he will?” Bess asked. She wasn’t sure if she wanted the answer.

“If anyone can do it, it’s him.” Barbara replied grimly. It didn’t make Bess feel much better about it.

“Should we go in anyway?” Bess asked, her eyes following the little dot on the screen. She saw Barbara nod out of the corner of her eye. “I’m going to send Tim,” said Barbara. “He’ll know what to do.”

Come home, Bruce, Bess thought. We can’t do this without you. It was almost like a prayer.

Chapter Text

“You have a son, Bruce.”

His fingers didn’t shake. His fingers never shook, but they didn’t move, either. He could still feel the hot blood on his face. He could see it on his fingers. He could taste it.

“You have a son, Bruce.” Her last word had been his name. Her eyes had been full of emotion that had nothing to do with dying.

“You have a son, Bruce.”

“A son?” He’d asked, but she was already gone. He’d cradled her in his arms until the warmth began to fade. He’d stared down at her, into those blank eyes staring at nothing. Then he had laid her down on the ground and closed them.

“ You have a son, Bruce.”

The words replayed in his head, over and over again. Even as he carried the Joker’s lifeless body out of Arkham City. Even as he made his way home. Even as he pried off the mask. Even as he’d scrubbed his hands and face. Even as he sent Alfred away. Even as he wrote the mission report. Even as he sat in his chair and stared down at his hands, knowing that the blood on them was a hallucination, but unable to look away.

“You have a son, Bruce.”

“Bruce.”

“Bruce.”

His eyes snapped up. His vision was blurry, and he blinked rapidly to clear it. Something red was standing in front of him. It moved closer. “Bruce, are you with me?”

Oh, he thought numbly. It’s Tim.

Tim stood in front of him, removing his own mask. “What happened in there? Did you…?” Tim left the question unsaid.

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, to deny that he had killed the Joker, but instead, his voice came out soft and broken, and only one word escaped. “Talia.”

“Talia?” Tim asked, and his demeanor changed. It was something Bruce had seen plenty of times since Tim joined them. The boy was ready to shoulder a burden too great for Bruce to bear alone. Bruce hated putting him in that position, but deep down, he was grateful.

Bruce nodded. Something emptier than just numbness threatened to consume him. He looked back down at his hands. “She’s gone,” he managed. Just saying it out loud felt like he’d been shot. It was as if the ground was opening up underneath him, and he couldn’t even fight to get out. He’d felt the same when Jason died. The Earth threatened to swallow him whole.

Tim knelt in front of him. Bruce saw Tim’s mouth move, but he didn’t hear the words. Well, he heard them, but he didn’t assign them any meaning. He looked back down at his hands. They were still bloody.

Talia’s blood.

He had watched Talia die.

He had a son.

I have a son. It was like a switch flipped. He spun his chair around fast enough to knock Tim off balance. His fingers flew over the keyboard of the Bat Computer, pulling up anything and everything on the League of Assassins, on Ra’s and Talia, on anything that might give him some clue.

“Bruce?” Tim’s voice sounded distant. “Bruce, what are you looking for?”

“My son,” Bruce answered sharply. His voice sounded like his own again. He searched the data for patterns. It might take days, but eventually he would find one. He had to.

“Your son?” Tim asked, somewhat bewildered.

“Yes,” Bruce replied, sounding more annoyed than he meant to. “I’ll look at your mission report later,” he added.

He could hear Tim’s exasperated sigh. “You almost died tonight, Bruce. You lost…. It was a bad night. You should get some sleep.” Tim was a good man, always looking out for him. If Bruce was honest with himself, he might not have survived Jason’s death without Tim. Unfortunately, Bruce wasn’t being honest with himself right then.

“I’m fine, Tim. You can go home.” Bruce said.

Tim sat in the chair next to him, looking up at the screen. “I’ll help you look,” he said, then smiled at Bruce.

Bruce did not smile back. “I can handle it, Tim.”

“I have no doubt,” Tim replied with confidence. He took over a section of the Bat Computer. “But the two of us can do it faster. Now tell me, what are we looking for?”

“I have a son,” Bruce said. “With Talia. Both Ra’s and Talia are dead, and I won’t leave him with the League.”

Tim nodded in understanding. “So we’re looking for patterns, trying to guess his location?”

Bruce nodded once. They fell into an easy silence, each searching through different bits of information. He knew that Tim didn’t trust him to be by himself. It was silly. He was fine. He’d experienced pain like this all his life. He could handle it.

But he appreciated Tim’s company anyway. It made him feel a little less empty.

Chapter Text

Just when Bess thought she knew Gotham like the back of her hand, it surprised her. To be fair, no one really knew what all was under Gotham. It had its own version of catacombs; abandoned areas under the city that were crumbling beneath them, woven in around the subway systems and pipelines. The deeper you went, the more likely it was that you’d never come back. Bess stood in a long abandoned subway station near the walls of Arkham City. No one was there to meet her.

She looked around at the graffiti on the walls, limited by the circular beam of her flashlight. There, among the various tags and hastily painted dicks on the walls, was an owl. It was carved into the stone and painted over, but it was there.

Bess retrieved the key from her jeans pocket. It felt odd to be in such a place in civilian clothes. She longed for the protective comfort of her suit, but Maria Powers had given the key to Bess, not Phoenix. The only gear she’d brought was the radio in her ear and the flashlight. The radio doubled as her tracker. She had considered bringing a pair of Waynetech contacts, but Bruce would notice if a set was missing from the Batcave. She didn’t want him to know where she was until she was ready to report.

She put the key into the small hole in the owl’s mouth and turned it. It clicked, and she could hear some mechanism behind the wall activate. She heard a soft hissing sound, but she was unable to locate the source.

“Did you find anything?” Barbara asked over the radio.

“A secret door,” Bess whispered with a smile as the wall in front of her slid to the side. She aimed her flashlight down the tunnel. It was surprisingly clean, free of graffiti and filth that tended to plague the rest of Gotham. As soon as she passed into the tunnel, the door closed behind her.

There was static in her ear. “Babs?” She whispered. There was no answer. Of course the signal is jammed, she thought. She rolled her eyes and said to herself, “well, better get this over with.”

Her footsteps echoed around her as she walked down the tunnel. Before long, she felt something brush the top of her hair. “Is this tunnel getting smaller?” She asked herself. Her head bumping into the ceiling answered the question. She had to crouch as she moved forward, and as the tunnel narrowed, she had to get down and crawl. She held the flashlight in her mouth and moved forward. Her breath clouded around the flashlight. If she didn’t have a heat-based power, she would have been freezing.

Something moved up ahead. She paused, using her tongue to readjust the flashlight. There didn’t appear to be anything there, but she could hear the almost silent rustle of fabric. She crawled forward tentatively, and made an attempt to wave away the clouds of breath that hindered her vision.

The top of the tunnel brushed her head again. The tunnel was long enough that it was hard to notice the change until it touched her. She felt like she had been crawling for miles. She dropped down into a high crawl, then a low crawl. Does Maria want me to be buried down here? She wondered without much humor.

Just as the tunnel was beginning to close around her shoulders, she saw the end. A block barely the width of her body marked the end of the tunnel. There was an owl on it, of course. She reached out and pushed on it. It felt like it might give, so she pushed a bit harder. It slipped a bit, but then got caught. Bess rolled her eyes and pushed with her real strength. The block popped out. She heard it clattering somewhere below.

She took the flashlight in her hand and angled it through the hole. It seemed to open up into a much larger chamber. There was something floral and familiar about the smell of the air, but Bess couldn’t place it. She wriggled through the hole, grunting with the effort, and looked down. It was about a ten foot drop. There was a red square haphazardly painted on the stone below. Walls rose up on either side, forming a long hallway. There seemed to be a turn at the end of it.

When she looked up, there was only darkness. It seemed to swallow the light of her flashlight. Bess figured there was some kind of fog up there.

Bess dropped down, wincing as she hit the ground. She brushed herself off and looked around. The stone on either side of her was smooth, seemingly all one slab. Upon closer inspection, it was polished marble.

“Hello?” She called out. “Madame Powers?” There was no answer. Bess suspected that the test had already begun.

Bess walked down the hall until she reached the end. It split in two directions. Strange test, Maria, she thought. She went to the right. The hall curved, then opened up into a small room. There was a simple wooden table with a small glass bottle on it. There was a clear liquid inside the bottle. Around the neck of the bottle was a tag with a yellow ribbon. It read: drink me.

“Like hell,” Bess muttered to herself. She was not going to drink anything the Court put before her if she could avoid it. That was asking for trouble.

As if in response, the entrance to the hallway behind her slammed shut. She jumped and whirled around. The wall was so smooth, she couldn’t even tell where the hallway had been. Looking around, she saw that all the walls were the same.

They’re trying to force me to drink it, Bess thought. She looked up, but all she saw was darkness. She looked back down at the bottle and asked out loud, “is this poison?” There was no answer.

She moved around the walls, trying to see if there was a hidden stone, but the entire room was smooth marble. She wished she could contact Barbara. She’d know what to do.

Maria had said that she’d be tested. Bess didn’t really think that Maria or the Court would kill her outright. If they were going to, why go through all this effort? They could have just killed her in the tunnel.

Right?

Bess deliberated for about fifteen minutes before she decided to give in to the Court’s demands. She popped the top off of the bottle. It reminded her of the old glass bottles soda used to come in. She’d bought one at a gas station with her father, the day before he’d vanished.

The liquid inside didn’t smell like anything. She stuck her finger in. It didn’t burn. When she put a drop on her tongue, it just tasted like water. She knew it couldn’t be just water, but at least it wasn’t acid. She took a tentative sip. It was actually refreshing, cool and crisp.

When she had finished about half the bottle, the wall to her right moved. A doorway opened into another hall. She set the unfinished bottle back down on the table and approached the opening. It was another marble hall. When she stepped over the threshold, the wall closed behind her.

She walked down the hall, watching the beam of her flashlight bounce. The hall made a sharp left, then opened into another small room. This one had a truck in it. There was something lying next to one of the tires.

A cold pang of horror flashed through Bess, and she almost dropped her flashlight. No, she said. It’s not possible. It’s not real. But she had a hard time convincing herself. She was looking at an all-too familiar young man with an expression of pain and fear etched into his unmoving face. He’s just a kid, she thought. She shook her head and blinked, trying to will the image before her to change.

It was the young man she’d killed after she had first gotten her powers, laying beside the truck she’d seen that night. She could smell the acrid tang of his blood. She could feel it on her hands. The gaping hole in his chest looked like it was twitching.

“It’s not possible,” she told herself, struggling to keep calm. “It’s been years. I’ve been drugged, that’s all. That water had something in it.” She knew it was true, but she could barely manage to tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her.

No great mind goes untested, Maria’s voice chimed in her mind. “It’s just a test,” Bess told herself. She forced herself to move, one step at a time, around the front of the truck. On the other side was an opening in the wall, leading into another hall.

Bess was glad to be out of that room. She knew it had to be some sort of trick, but a mind is easily fooled, and there was part of her that believed the boy she’d murdered was there. She clenched her hands to keep them from shaking. She strode down the hall, holding her chin up.

The next room had a massive portrait hanging on the wall. Bess realized it was Bruce. He appeared to be glaring down at her through the beam of her flashlight. His disapproval was clear, carved into his unmoving features. It didn’t look like any portrait of Bruce she’d ever seen. It was as if someone had painted Batman instead, but forgot his mask.

He doesn’t even know I’m here, Bess thought. He’s going to be so mad. How could I do this to him? He’s already lost one kid, had to rescue me from the Court before, and here I am, signal jammed, willingly walking into a trap made by the Court-

She cut off the thought, realizing that the panic in her chest was growing. Her thoughts were getting away from her. Whatever the Court had given her was making her paranoid, and playing off of her memories and fears. Nothing in here is real, she thought. It’s all a trick. It’s just a test.

Bess took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes. She took a moment to get her emotions under control using the techniques Bruce had taught her. She only opened them when she heard footsteps behind her. She whirled around, but no one was there. She looked back up at the portrait. Disapproving eyes glared down at her, but it was easy to ignore them this time.

She approached the portrait and pushed it to the side. Behind it was another gap in the endless marble walls, barely big enough for her to fit in. She crawled through it, and out the other side. She was in an empty hall again, stretching out to either side. She chose to go to the left.

There was a wooden door at the end of this hall. Bess pushed it open. It groaned loudly, but gave way. Past it was a cozy room that resembled a study, with books lining the walls, warm lights, and a large wooden desk with a comfortable chair in the middle. There was a single manila folder on the desk.

Bess strolled around the desk, pointedly not looking at the folder. She eased herself into the chair. It even smelled like real leather. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then looked down at the desk.

The folder had her name on it, as well as an owl embossed in the center. She opened it, finding a stack of papers inside. The one on top seemed to be a dossier on her. Her picture was on it, seemingly taken near the university. At the top, her name was printed in bold letters. Underneath it, in smaller print, was “Phoenix” printed in italics.

Shit. They know.

It made sense, of course. The Court had kidnapped her, and she hadn’t been conscious for a good part of it. Of course they know, how could I be so stupid?! How could any of them have been so blind? The Court would never pass up on information like that.

The smell of burning paper reached her nose. Her fingers had left small burn marks on the edges of the folder. She took a breath to steady her nerves. It’s fine, she thought, I can work with this. She wondered if they suspected the identities of any of the others. She remembered how poorly Maria Powers had spoken of Bruce, but even that could have been a ploy.

She flipped through the rest of the papers. Most of them were photos. It seemed that the fight with Superman was the earliest that they had begun photographing her. They must not have known for long.

The last page was mostly blank, with only one line of fine print at the top. It read: Status: Undetermined.

“I wonder what that means,” she muttered to herself. She closed the file, and considered burning it. It wouldn’t have done any good, so she just left it there on the desk. She began looking through the desk drawers. They were all empty.

Something pricked the back of her neck. She instinctively slapped at it, hissing through clenched teeth. She plucked a small needle from her skin. “Fuck,” she mumbled, just before crumpling to the ground.

Chapter Text

Late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the Clock Tower, bathing the room at the top in golden light. Bess had been off-grid all day. For the first few hours, they hadn’t worried, but after about 3, Barbara had asked them to come to the tower. They needed a plan.

Tim watched Dick pace across the floor, his hand moving from his hair, to his chin, and back to his hair. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them. Tim shared his nerves, chewing on his nails in a subconscious effort to soothe himself.

“Will you stop?” Barbara snapped at Dick, not looking up from her laptop. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.” Dick didn’t answer, but he did sit down at the small kitchen table in the corner. He tapped his fingers on the table, and his foot rattled on the floorboards.

Tim took a deep breath. “Any luck?” He asked. Barbara shook her head. Her eyebrows were deeply furrowed, and the light of the screen reflected off her glasses.

“What do we do?” Dick asked. His voice was trembling. He cleared his throat, and spoke again. “It’s been all day. We can’t just wait around, hoping we pick up her tracker.”

“I’m doing my best, Dick,” Barbara replied harshly.

“Barb,” Tim said gently. “We know.”

Barbara heaved a great sigh. “Sorry,” she said, looking up from her screen. “I’m worried too. I just don’t know what happened.”

“We could search her last known location,” Dick suggested.

“She won’t be there if the Court took her,” Tim replied.

“No,” Dick conceded, “but we may find clues as to what happened to her.”

“I shouldn’t have let her go alone,” Barbara whispered, almost unheard. Tim pushed off the counter he was leaning on and walked over to her. He knelt next to her chair and put a hand on her forearm. “It’s not your fault,” he said softly.

Barbara shook her head, slamming her laptop closed. Tim could see the tears welling up in her eyes. “I should have seen this coming!” She shouted and threw up her arms. “Over and over again, I keep fucking up!”

Tim felt his heart clench in his chest. “She insisted,” he said, “and you know how she gets. Once she makes up her mind, nothing will change it.”

Barbara put her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do,” she wailed. “If I send you after her, I might lose you too. If I don’t, we may not get her back.”

“Should we get Bruce?” Dick asked. Tim felt as if a heavy weight settled on his shoulders. “No,” he replied. “Bruce… has a lot going on right now. I don’t think adding this to his plate is a good idea.”

“We might fail without him.” Barbara said, wiping her eyes on her sleeves. Tim felt the weight grow. Someone had to keep it together. “Dick and I will go after her,” he said, taking charge. He stood up. “It’s likely that we will lose signal as well. If we aren’t back by midnight, then you can tell Bruce, okay?”

Barbara nodded, her head still hanging. Tim shot a look at Dick, gesturing subtly to Barbara. Dick stood from his place at the table and came over. “Hey Babs,” he said in his most soothing tone, “it’s going to be okay. We’ll get our girl back, and if we fuck it up, Bruce will come in and save our sorry asses, right? And you’ll be there the whole time, our eyes in the sky, and it’ll work out like it always does.”

Barbara’s scowl deepened. “It hasn’t always worked out, Dick.”

Dick took a half step back, as if he had been struck. Even Tim winced visibly. Barbara noticed, and her expression softened. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” she apologized, then straightened up. “Alright,” she said, back in work mode. “You have until midnight. I’ll send her last location to you.”

“We’ll find her,” Tim assured. He didn’t say, Bruce can’t lose us too.

The owl, buried under the graffiti and a layer of Gotham grime, seemed to mock them. Its mouth hung open as if laughing at them. “Well,” Tim said, hoping humor would lighten the mood. “I was hoping I’d get to test my new explosive gel out.”

Dick flashed him a half-hearted smile. “The stone seems pretty thick. I hope its enough.” Tim shook his head, kneeling in front of the door. “I don’t have to blow the door,” he explained, filling the owl’s mouth with explosive gel. “Just the lock. Stand back.”

They both backed away a few paces, and Tim set off the detonator. A soft hiss came from the door, and it sank into the wall slightly, but didn’t open. “Must be a mechanical component,” Dick suggested, and began tapping on the computer on his arm. “Yep,” he confirmed a few seconds later. “Bad news though, it’s on the other side of the door, and there’s interference.”

“Fuck,” Tim muttered. He examined the door, hoping it would yield some secret to him. He snapped his fingers when he got an idea. “Got your escrima sticks?” He asked.

“Always do,” Dick answered.

“Try frying the lock. Maybe the current will be enough to fry the circuit.”

Dick shrugged, “fuck it,” and stuck the end of a stick in the lock. The hum of electricity filled the air. After a moment, the door slid further into the wall. Tim gave it a push, and it slid out of the way. Tim grinned. “We’re in.”

“Be careful,” Barbara said over the radio. “That’s where I lost contact with Bess. Watch your backs.”

“We will, Oracle,” Dick replied. Tim entered the narrow hall first. He turned on a light built into the shoulders of his suit. The hall seemed to go on forever. His light was eventually blocked by clouds of dust. They made their way down the hall. After a moment, it brushed the top of Tim’s head.

“It’s getting smaller,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Dick agreed. “It sure would suck if we had to fight in here. Not enough room for our weapons.”

As if in response, Tim heard footsteps coming from the gloom ahead. A pair of green goggles reflecting the light of his flashlight emerged from the dust, followed by the familiar shape of a talon mask. Then another behind it. Then a third. Tim sighed and said, “you just had to open your big mouth, didn’t you?”

Chapter Text

Bess’s first sensation of awareness was a pounding headache. She let out a soft groan, bringing her hand up to her eyes. The particular feeling of a sedatives headache was uncomfortably familiar, and she felt her chest clench.

“You’re awake,” a wonderfully familiar voice reached her ears. “Tim?” She cracked open one eye. The familiar decor of his apartment was comforting. She was laying on his couch. She looked to the side, towards the kitchen. Her coat was on the coffee table. Beyond it, Tim was holding a steaming mug and heading in her direction.

Bess pushed herself to sit up. “What happened?” She asked. Tim handed her the mug. She inhaled deeply. Spearmint and lemongrass tea, she recognized the scent. It was one of her favourites. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Tim replied, sitting next to her. “Batman brought you here, unconscious. Said you’d been sedated. He didn’t say much else.”

Batman. Not Bruce. If Tim was calling him Batman when it was just them, it was likely they were being watched. Bess blew over the surface of the tea to cool it. “I don’t know,” she began. “I don’t remember much. Must be the sedatives.”

“You must remember something,” Tim prodded. “You disappear all day, only to show up here with Batman? What were you doing? Do you remember who got you?”

Suspicion bloomed in her mind. Tim knew where she had gone, and why. She set the mug on the coffee table without drinking any. “Like I said, I have no idea. I was in the subway, then I was here.” She pressed her shoulder to his.

He put an arm around her, squeezing her gently. “It doesn’t matter,” he assured her. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” Bess rested her head on his shoulder, and inhaled deeply. Tim always smelled like coffee. All she smelled was earth.

Clayface.

Did Clayface work for the Court? Or was she out of the Court’s hands now? Had Maria Powers traded her to the villains, or were they in league already? Either way, Bess knew she was not safe.

“I think I need some fresh air,” Bess said, getting to her feet. “Join me on the balcony?”

“We can’t,” Clayface said quickly, then added, “they’re doing maintenance today.”

“Let’s at least open the curtains, it’s so dark in here,” Bess said, strolling towards the window. Clayface reached out and grabbed her wrist. She looked back at him, feigning surprise. He smiled with Tim’s face, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, with your headache. Why don’t you just lie back down? Have some tea.”

“I’d rather have some water.” She gestured to the kitchen. “May I?” Clayface released her. She went into the kitchen, looking for little details along the way. Sure enough, Tim’s panic button was missing from the ledge of the counter. This wasn’t his apartment.

“So, how’s work going? You make that deal with Stagg yet?” Bess asked casually, retrieving a glass from the cupboard. Clayface responded, “almost. He’s taking his time with the paperwork.”

It was a decent copy of Tim’s apartment, but they mixed up how he organized his kitchen. It made sense that his apartment was watched, but not closely enough to know the fine details. Bess set the glass on the counter, unfilled.

“What time is it?” Bess asked.

“It’s about 4:30,” Clayface answered, checking a watch on his wrist.

Shit, Bess thought. I’ve been out all day.

“Damn,” she said. “When did Batman bring me here?”

Clayface shrugged. “Sometime this afternoon, a few hours ago.”

She wondered what had happened in the time between when she was knocked out and getting here. She touched her ear behind the guise of scratching her head. The radio was still there, but not connected to anything.

She figured she was unlikely to get information from Clayface while he was posing as Tim. She patted her pockets dramatically, “oh, hell. Can I use your cellphone? Mine seems to be missing.”

“What for?” Clayface asked, masking his defensiveness well, but not well enough. Bess said, “I’d like to call Bruce, let him know what happened.”

“I already did,” Clayface said quickly. “You should just rest for a while, I don’t want you to overdo it after being sedated for so long. I’ll take care of everything else.”

What was he hoping to gain from this? It was possible that this was another test of Maria’s. It was also possible that if she had been handed over to the villains, and Clayface would try to kill her if she let on that she knew it wasn’t Tim. For all she knew, Twoface was behind the wall, waiting to mow her down with a machine gun.

It was probable that they knew she was Phoenix. However, since Clayface had referred to Bruce as Batman, and was posing as Tim, it was likely that she was the only identity they knew.

Either way, she didn’t think she could gain anything else by playing along. She picked up the glass, turning it over in her hands. “You know, Tim,” she began, looking up at him. “I’m feeling just fine.” She hurled the glass at him with all her strength. It went right through his head, splattering clay on the couch.

“Damn it,” Clayface growled, his body bubbling and morphing. “How did you know?”

“You’re an excellent actor, Basil,” Bess answered, “but did you really think you could trick me with Tim?” She ran to the window, yanking back the curtains. Behind it, to her dismay, was nothing but stone. She turned to run for the door, but Clayface blocked her way, now in his own body.

“Tell me,” she began, hoping to stall him. She couldn’t fight him here, and she needed time to find a way out. “What did you give the Court in exchange for me? Weapons? Loyalty?”

“The Court didn’t sell you out,” a new voice joined them. Maria powers entered through the front door of the apartment. “So they work for you?” Bess asked, not taking her eyes off Clayface.

“It’s a partnership!” Clayface insisted.

“Yes, much like the one I’d like to offer you. Mr. Karlo, I’ll take it from here.” Maria waved her hand dismissively. Clayface scowled, but backed off.

“Follow me, Ms Brown,” Maria said, and left through the door. Bess followed her. Through the door was a hallway, but a much nicer one than the labyrinth had. It had red wallpaper and a plush carpet.

“You must forgive us for the deception. It’s all part of the test,” Maria said as she walked. Bess asked, “does the Court make a habit of working with Gotham’s worst?”

Maria sighed, as if the question were a silly one. “Gotham will always have men like them, but women like us can mitigate that by controlling them. If they’re working for us, they’re not rampaging through the streets. We can use them to our own ends. If we buy the fine officers of the city, they won't be bought by anyone else. If we want to control the darkest parts of this city,” she paused, opening a door on the side of the hall, “we must become them.”

Inside the room was a simple desk, surrounded by filing cabinets. “What are all these?” Bess asked.

“Files, much like the one on you.”

“You must have everyone in Gotham in here,” Bess commented.

Maria almost smiled. “Not everyone. Just anyone who matters.” She pulled open one of the drawers. “Your final test,” she said as she held up a folder. She handed it to Bess.

Bess looked down at the folder in her hand. Batman. She opened it. A wave of relief washed over her when she saw the words: Identity: Unknown.

She flipped through the pages and photos in the folder, then looked up at Maria. Maria gestured to the folder. “I know you work with him. I also know from our previous conversation ,” she said it meaningfully, and Bess shuddered at the memories of being in their custody. Maria continued, “that you don’t know who he is. I do apologize for all that unpleasantness. At the time, it was necessary.” She spoke as if torture were a mere inconvenience.

Bess didn’t even remember being asked about Batman. It was all a hazy blur anyway. She was glad she had kept it together enough to keep quiet, unless it was another of Maria’s ploys.

“I also know that he cares deeply for you,” Maria continued. “I want you to find out who he is. He is the one pawn in this city we can’t control. Him and his brats, anyway. I want you to find out the identities of Batman and Robin, and report them to me. They are to know nothing of our arrangement, understand?”

If Maria knew the identities of Batman and Robin, Bess doubted she would ask her to find out. For now, it was safe to assume she really didn’t know.

“What do I get?” Bess asked. Maria raised an eyebrow. Bess lowered her gaze respectfully, and added, “what would my reward be for selling out the most feared man in the city?”

Maria smiled, and it could have been mistaken for warm. “Of course, you’d be rewarded greatly. If you do this, you’ll get a seat on the Court, and you’ll formally become my protege.”

The Court didn’t make offers like that to just anyone, and the information she would get just for agreeing could be worth it. “Deal,” Bess said, closing the folder. Maria nodded approvingly. “I expected you to see the wisdom of joining us. I’m glad I was right. I want you to understand I’m offering a display of trust by not having you monitored constantly. Consider it my formal apology.” Maria said, then gestured to the room around her. “Familiarize yourself with the content of these files. There’s information here even Batman doesn’t have. Here,” she put a flip phone in Bess’s hand. “Keep this on you. If you find anything important, send it to the number saved on this phone. I expect regular updates.”

Bess put the phone in her pocket. Maria added on, “when you’re done here, we’ll have a driver take you home. Also, I expect the utmost confidentiality. You must not tell anyone what you’re doing here, or you risk losing the opportunity. Though I won't have you stalked, you are being watched. When that phone rings, you answer it, understand?” The real threat was unsaid, but it was still implied.

Bess nodded, bowing her head in a gesture of submission. “Of course, Madam Powers. My lips are sealed.”

“Bess! Are you there? Are you okay?” Barbara’s voice filled her ear as soon as the car she was in drove away from the Gotham Empire building. It was dark out at this point. Bess longed to put Barbara’s fears at ease, but if she spoke, the driver would hear her.

Instead, she spoke to the driver. “I believe I forgot my coat,” she said. The driver glanced at her in the rear view mirror. “I will let someone know,” his gruff voice reached her ears. “It will be sent to your apartment.” He was monotone. It was off putting.

“Thank goodness you’re okay,” Barbara said. “Are you in trouble?”

“I guess I’ll be fine without it,” Bess said, addressing the driver, but letting Barbara know that she was safe enough for the moment. She could hear the relief in Barbara’s voice. “Okay, good. Are you able to escape your situation? Do I need to get Bruce?”

“My apartment building is after the next light,” Bess said to the driver. “I know,” he said emotionlessly.

“Good to hear it,” Barbara said. “I’ll ask more questions when you can speak freely. For now, I need to tell you that Dick and Tim went after you when you went dark. I haven’t heard from them in a while. Midnight is our panic time, but since you’re back, I think we could move up trying to find them.”

Damn it, Bess thought. She should have suspected that they wouldn’t even wait a full day to find her. After the last fiasco with the Court, she wasn’t surprised. Dick was impulsive when his family was in trouble, and Tim was headstrong. She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a slow breath.

The driver pulled up in front of her building. “Thank you,” she said as she got out. The chill of Gotham brought goosebumps to her skin, so she used her power to warm herself as she approached the building. Once the car pulled away, she said to Barbara, “Oracle, we need to talk.”

Chapter Text

“Scans aren’t showing anything outside the phone’s standard capabilities. It’s clean, unless they’ve got some crazy tech that scans don’t pick up. I can’t find that without taking it apart, but let’s treat it with cautious optimism.” Barbara gave her verdict and passed the flip phone back to Bess.

Bess finished pulling on the gloves of her Phoenix suit and took it from her. “I don’t like the idea of keeping it on me while working, but if Maria calls and I don’t answer, we could blow it.”

Barbara nodded solemnly, her lips pursed. She looked down at her lap, then back up at Bess. “We need to tell Bruce.” Bess knew she was right. “I will,” she said, heading for the Clock Tower elevator. She added, “after I get the boys back.”

It didn’t take her long to get down to the subway where the tunnel was. It was open, with obvious remnants of explosives. Bess could hear something echoing from the darkness, but she couldn’t tell what it was from this far. She began running down the tunnel. She could see flashing lights up ahead, and the sounds of combat reached her.

She raced towards it. Even in the tight space, Nightwing was holding his own against the talons. The tight space was working in his favour. Red Robin was a few paces behind him, towards her, slumped against the wall. He was tapping rapidly on his arm.

“Robin!” She called out. He looked up, his look of bewilderment replaced by a wide grin. He was out of breath. “We’re supposed to be rescuing you, you know!” He shouted over the fray. She knelt in front of him. “The best laid plans of mice and men,” she said, earning a laugh from him. “Are you alright?” She asked.

Robin nodded, then pointed to Nightwing. “We’ve been switching off for hours. They just keep coming. I hate to say it, but you’re saving our asses here.”

“Hours, huh? Y’all have some amazing stamina.” She stood, running towards Dick. She grabbed his shoulder. He whirled on her, escrima stick raised, then stopped. “Phoenix! You scared the hell out of me!”

“Tag out,” she said, pushing him behind her and facing the talons. For a brief moment, the one closest to her hesitated. So they know, she thought. Good. She grabbed them by the neck, pushing them against the wall. She held her face close to theirs and whispered, “throw the fight.” She had to make it look like she was their enemy, not for Nightwing and Robin’s sake, but for theirs. Her own team wasn’t supposed to know about her deal with the Court.

There was the slightest nod, and she punched the talon in the gut. She pulled it, but still knocked some wind out of him. She flung him towards the others, who went down like bowling pins in the darkness.

“Let’s get out of here!” She shouted to the other two. With her safety assured, they no longer had a reason to be there. Nightwing helped Robin stand. Phoenix threw down a smoke bomb, and looked back at the talons long enough to see the front one put his hand out to stop another from pursuing.

She didn’t like this, but Maria was right about one thing. To control the darkness, you had to become it. Even Bruce knew that, though he wouldn’t phrase it that way. They all lived it. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time they worked with the enemy.

Robin’s heavy limp slowed them down, even with Nightwing’s support. Phoenix picked him up and put him over her shoulder once there was enough space to do so. They sprinted down the hall, and out into the subway.

“Phoenix, are you there?” Barbara spoke anxiously. “I’m here,” Bess answered. “I’ve got the boys. We’re heading home. Red Robin is injured, but it’s not bad. Any word from Batman?”

“As far as I know, he’s still in the Batcave. Alfred says he hasn’t slept since returning from Arkham City.”

“To be fair, neither have we,” Bess said half-jokingly. She didn't consider sedation to be sleep. It only made her more tired. She added, “we’ll be home soon.”

“So,” Nightwing began, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “What the hell happened?”

“Well, shit.” Dick said, leaning into his stretch. They were back at the Clock Tower, and Bess had just filled them in on her deal with the Court. “No wonder they didn’t give chase,” he added, wincing while rubbing out his muscles.

“Yeah,” Bess mumbled, finishing the wrap around Tim’s knee. She propped his leg up and settled the ice pack on it. “It sucks, but I think we can work with it.”

“Are you kidding?” Barbara interjected. “I think it’s great. We’ll have to be careful, but this could be what we need to take down the Court!” The moonlight made her look like she was glowing, emphasizing her excitement.

“Sure,” Bess said between gulps of water. “But they’re going to expect something from me, too. I can’t just tell them who we all are, but I have to give them something so they stay off my ass.”

“Tricky,” Tim said with a heavy sigh. “Bruce isn’t going to like it.”

Bess felt her gut twinge at the idea of actually telling Bruce what she had agreed to. She knew he would see the wisdom of it, but he was going to be mad about it. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when she heard the Tower’s elevator. Her gaze snapped to Barbara, who motioned the costumed heroes to hide.

Bess snatched Tim out of the chair and ducked behind one of the shelves. She set him on the floor. She peered around the edge of the shelves, just enough to see the elevator rise up. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Batman. He was alone.

“False alarm,” Barbara called out, and they emerged from their hiding spots.

“You four have been busy,” Bruce commented, glancing at Tim’s knee. “Are you rested?” He asked. “We have a new mission, top priority, and I need the four of you functional.”

No sleep for us today. “We’re fine,” Dick answered. “What’s up?”

Tim’s expression was grim. Bess got the feeling he knew what was coming.

“I found him,” Bruce said to Tim, but it was for all of them. Tim raised his eyebrows. Bruce went on, “I followed the pattern you pointed out last night. He’s in Nanda Parbat. I sent a drone ahead to confirm it, but we have no time to waste. The Batwing is ready to go. This will be a full assault. I’ll tell you the plan on the way.”

Barbara spoke first. “I’ll position the satellites so we’ll still have radio.” She rolled to the fridge, pulling it open. “Anyone need caffeine before you go?” She held up an energy drink in offering.

“Tim, are you good for this?” Bess asked quietly. Tim nodded. Bess wished he had said no, but she knew him. He could be holding his guts in his hands and he would still say he was good to fight.

It wouldn't stop her, either.

Bess took a drink from Barbara and cracked it open, downing half of it in one go. She shoved a granola bar in her mouth, and helped Tim to his feet. He forced himself to walk normally, but she could see the pain. She grabbed a few stimulant shots from Barbara’s stores and put them in her utility pouch.

Before long, they were on the Batwing, flying over the ocean. “So,” Bess asked. “Who are we looking for?”

“My son,” Bruce answered, as if that were explanation enough.

“You have a son?” Dick asked, shocked. Bess shared his sentiment. Only Tim didn’t seem surprised. Bess scowled at him. He shrugged sheepishly, “there’s been a lot going on.”

I’d better not tell Bruce about the Court until this is over, Bess thought. He had enough on his plate. She paid attention to Bruce’s plan, though he didn’t elaborate further on his son other than his mother, and his name.

Damian.

Bruce’s assault plan was solid. He’d already mapped out guard routes, and lucky for them, Ra’s Al Ghul was likely being dunked in a Lazarus Pit in Gotham. However, Damian did have a bodyguard. There wasn’t much to know about him, other than he was a big man and a skilled fighter. He would have to be, for the League of Assassins to put him in charge of the Demon’s Head’s grandson. It would be Phoenix’s job to keep him busy. Nightwing and Red Robin would take on any assassins, and Batman would retrieve his son.

With the Batwing’s speed, it was only a couple of hours until the Himalayas were in sight. Batman activated the plane’s stealth mode, and they dropped about a mile from the compound. The snow melted around Bess’s feet.

“It must be nice, not ever getting cold,” Dick grumbled as he stomped down the snow. Bess laughed a bit, “it’s not that I never get cold, it’s just really easy to get warm again.”

“What’s the difference?” Dick asked, flashing a playful smile.

“Necessary communications only from here on out,” Bruce stated firmly. “Snowshoes on. Let’s get moving.”

Bess hated snowshoes.

They trudged up the mountain to one of the side entrances of the compound. Batman had been here before, so he knew where the hidden entrances were and how to access them. However, when they got inside, there was no one. No patrols, no heat signatures, nothing. The only thing they picked up on was one signature deep in the compound, not moving.

Bess wanted to say how suspicious it was, but held her tongue. Fortunately, Batman had the same thought. He made the hand sign for ‘ambush,’ then ‘maybe,’ then motioned for them to split up. Nightwing went with him, and Phoenix went with Red Robin.

They made their way through the compound, following the route Batman had laid out for them.

Phoenix heard something shift. She couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it put her on edge. Robin heard it too, and pointed up at the ceiling. Their scanners showed no heat signatures, but that didn’t mean no one was watching them.

They kept moving forward, keeping careful watch for anything. As they approached the heat signature, Bess thought that it may just be the wind, or paranoia. Still, there was no way it was going to be that easy.

The blow came from out of nowhere. Boots struck her chest, and Phoenix hit the floor with a thud. A huge man stood with one boot on her chest. He wore a red mask that covered his entire face, with black glass for eyes. The bodyguard. League assassins swarmed them from the ceilings and floors, and Phoenix heard Robin shout “contact!”

“Outsider!” An assassin called out. “Keep that one busy! Be careful, she’s stronger than she looks!”

The glass eyes of the mask gazed down at her blankly. The man knelt down, not taking his boot off of her chest. His hand flew towards her face. Phoenix brought her arm up to hit him, but stopped when his hand rested lightly on her cheek. It was an almost tender gesture. It stunned her briefly. The man’s thumb brushed across her cheek, and his head tilted to the side, ever so slightly.

I know you. The thought bounced around her head like a ricocheting bullet.

“Quit fucking around, Phoenix!” Red Robin shouted, his voice strained with the effort of fighting. Bess snapped out of her stupor and shoved the man off of her. He fell back, then quick as a bullet, dove for her again. With how viciously he fought, Phoenix wondered if she had imagined the moment before. Blow after blow reigned down on her.

He didn’t fight like an assassin. Something about it reminded her of Bruce.

Still, he didn’t stand much of a chance against her strength, and when her boot connected with his gut, he wasn’t prepared for it. He flew back against the wall, hitting hard, and slumped down briefly. Phoenix turned to fight the assassins that were swarming Tim. She managed to fling a few away when a thick arm wrapped around her neck and squeezed. She knew a sleeper hold when she felt one, and jerked forward, throwing him over her shoulder and into a group of assassins.

“Contact,” Nightwing said over the radio. Batman said, “they’re wearing suits that mess with our optics. Scanners won’t pick them up. Do it the old fashioned way.”

Phoenix didn’t pay them much attention. She went for the bodyguard before he had a chance to get back up. She struck out, hoping to land a knockout blow, but he rolled out of the way just in time. He grabbed the nearest assassin and threw them at her. Apparently, they had practiced that, because the assassin lashed out with a sword mid-air. Phoenix side-stepped just in time.

She stepped right into the bodyguard’s next blow. His fist connected with her jaw, hard enough to make her see stars. She stumbled back, trying to blink them away. "Fuck," she hissed. She brought her arms up to protect her face.

Just as he was about to strike again, smoke filled the room. Phoenix recognized the smell of Robin’s smoke bombs. Good thinking. She closed the space between her and where the bodyguard had been, but he was no longer there. She had a split second to react when he came swinging from the left side. She caught his fist and pulled him down and towards her, driving her forehead into his nose. She felt hot blood spray across her face. She did it again, and this time, she felt the cartilage cave.  She let go of his arm and grabbed the front of his shirt. The fabric was tight, and tough to hold onto, but it was enough to pull him in for a third headbutt. The glass of his mask broke.

Through the smoke, she caught a glimpse of a blue, bloodshot eye glaring at her. It was more of a look of a wild animal, rather than a man. A chill ran down her spine.

She darted towards it, ducking under the punch he threw and slipping around behind him. She jumped onto his back and wrapped her arm around his throat, putting him in the same hold he’d tried to put her in. She squeezed, and with her strength, it was only a few seconds before he crumpled beneath her.

“The bodyguard is down,” she said. “Heard,” Batman replied.

“Great, now I could use some help over here!” Red Robin shouted through the smoke. Phoenix rushed in, helping him deal with the assassins. As the smoke cleared, only a few were left.

Behind them was a child. He couldn’t have been more than 10.

Greenish brown eyes looked over them with a scornful look. He had a sneer on his face. When the assassins went to attack, he put his hand up, and they stopped. Phoenix stood in front of Red Robin protectively.

“Leave us.” The boy said. The assassins looked surprised. One of them argued, “young lord, we cannot leave you undefended.”

“I said,” he began sharply. “Leave. Us. Now.”

The assassins bowed, and backed away down the hall.

The child turned his attention back to them. “You work for my father.” It was a statement, not a question. Phoenix asked, “are you Damian?”

“I am. You are Bessie Brown and Tim Drake.” Phoenix felt a flush of unease at the statement of their names. Damian seemed to notice. He put a hand up, as if placating an animal. “Only myself and my grandfather know who you are. Now, to business.” He drew a sword. “If you can defeat me, I will go with you.”

Phoenix blinked with surprise. “I’m not going to fight a child,” she said after a moment.

Damian looked annoyed. “I am the grandson of the Demon’s Head and son of the world’s greatest detective. I have been trained since birth to be the perfect assassin. My mother is gone, and my grandfather is mad. My options are to take their place, or leave. If I am to try the life of my father, I must know that his other children are not weaklings. You have defeated my bodyguard, which is no small feat, but if you want me to go with you, then you must show me that my skill and training will not suffer.”

The way he spoke was strange, for a child. He was so serious, straight to the point. He had an emptiness to him that made Bess's heart ache. She glanced back at Red Robin, who just shrugged. She examined the boy. His stance was a good one, the product of good training. It was strange to see such an intense look on such a young face.

What have they done to you?

She crossed her arms. “No.”

“No?”

“I will not fight you, Damian. Your father is a strong man, the strongest I’ve ever met, but he is not a monster. He trained us to be weapons, but he also taught us to never forget our humanity. I will not fight a child just to prove that.”

A look of rage came over Damian’s face. “Then I will make you!” He shouted, and rushed forward, sword high. Phoenix braced for the blow. At the last second, he darted to the side and struck out, his sword aiming for her ribs. She stepped back and caught the blade in her hand, trusting Lucius’s suit to hold against the sharp edge. Damian was quick to respond, using the sword as leverage to swing a kick up towards her face. He fought just like an assassin, striking swiftly and pulling back before there was a chance for retaliation.

Phoenix held onto the end of his sword and used her other arm to block his blows. He was fast, but he was just a child, and she had inhuman strength. As long as he didn’t get past her guard, he couldn’t hurt her, so she just dug in and blocked, hoping he’d wear himself out.

“Why won’t you fight me?!” He screamed after a few minutes, his frustration plain on his face.

Phoenix resisted the urge to laugh. “First and foremost, Bruce would kill me if I hurt you.”

“My father has never even met me, why would he care?” Damian asked, throwing a punch at her. She blocked it. “He loves you, Damian. We wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. You are his son.”

“Love is weakness!” Damian shouted.

Bess caught him by the wrist and pulled him close. She dropped his sword and wrapped her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides and lifting him off the ground. He struggled, kicking at her legs. It would leave bruises, but he didn’t have enough leverage to do any real damage.

“Love is strength,” she said calmly. Damian looked at her as if she were crazy, but he stopped struggling. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “Love gets in the way of everything. Mother said it makes you do stupid things. It’s a distraction.”

“Love is why we’re here,” she replied. “Love is why we fight. Sure, love can be blinding, but it can also open your eyes.” Her thoughts briefly flashed to her fight with Superman, and she looked over at Tim.

“Love will give you strength when you think there is nothing left. When anger has failed, and your willpower is drained, love will give you what you need to get up and keep fighting. If not to protect the ones we love, why fight at all?”

Damian scowled. “Put me down.”

She let him go.

He took a moment to just stare at her.

“You’re insane. Are you all like this?” He asked, gesturing to her vaguely.

Bess smiled at him. “In our own ways,” she answered.

Damian shook his head. “I can’t go with you. You’re going to turn me into some mewling child with a weak heart.”

“Sure, but I’ll also teach you how to get inside the guard of a much stronger opponent, if you want to learn,” she offered with a playful smile, then gestured to the unconscious bodies around them. “League assassins are good, but they always lose to us. There’s only so much they can teach you. Even if you don’t come for family, you should come to learn something new.”

Damian considered that, then nodded once. “Fine. But this had better be worth it.”

“Batman,” Tim said, “we’ve found him.”

Chapter Text

Dick was exhausted. His muscles screamed with every step, and each breath felt like more effort than the last. When they made it back to the Batcave, he sat in a chair and felt like he might never move again. It was a huge effort to reach up and pull the mask off of his face.

Bruce took Damian up into the manor, and the others wisely left them alone. They had a lot to talk about. Alfred brought them all something to eat, some tea, and some blankets, and the three of them sat together in exhausted silence for a while.

Bess caught Dick’s attention when she sucked in a breath, preparing to say something. She slapped her thighs and said, “let’s get that knee taken care of, Tim.” Dick felt numb as he watched her care for him. Where did she find the energy? She looked just as tired as the rest of them.

“When you get home, ice that. I mean it, put it up and ice it and don’t move for a while, okay? Get some sleep.” She said, almost scolding Tim. Tim smiled warmly and said, “yes ma’am.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead, soft laughter bubbling up out of her chest. She ran a hand through his hair, and Tim leaned into her touch with a look of bliss.

They're so in love. Dick knew that, and he was cool with it, so why did the thought feel so... insidious?

A rush of an uncomfortable feeling flooded through Dick. He was almost too tired to recognize it. Jealousy, he thought, surprising himself. Giving it a name seemed to fan the flames, until his chest felt tight and his throat felt like it was closing up. It faded as suddenly as it had come when she turned to him and asked, “how are you doing, Dick? Are you injured?”

“Bruised,” his voice felt like knives in his throat, “but nothing serious.” She nodded and went to turn away from him. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before he was even aware of it. When she looked at him questioningly, no words came to mind. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Tim cleared his throat awkwardly and got to his feet. “I’ll head home now. You two get some sleep, too. Dick, don’t drive back to Bludhaven until you have.” Warmth flooded through Dick, love for his brother, then guilt for being jealous of him. Dick nodded and said, “I won’t.”

After Tim left, Dick realized he still hadn’t let go of Bess. She pulled her chair up next to him and asked softly, “what’s wrong, Dick?” He let go of her wrist and slid his fingers up over her palm, tracing little circles there. “Bess,” he began, searching for the words.

“Come stay with me for a while,” he finally said. He had meant it to be a question, but it came out as a demand.

Bess let out a deep breath, looking down, and he knew she was going to say no. “Why not?” He asked before she had the chance to speak.

“I want to, Dick, believe me. But I doubt the Court would be too happy if I left the city right after making a deal with them.”

“You did what? ” A new voice startled them both. Bruce stood in the doorway of the elevator. His expression was dark.

Bess sat up straight, her face flushed. “I know you’re mad, but listen-”

“What have you done? ” Bruce growled. "What kind of deal could you possibly have made with them?"

Dick felt a rush of anger and jumped to her defense. “Knock it off, Bruce. We weren’t making any progress with the Court. Having someone on the inside will keep this case moving forward.”

Bruce ignored him, his heavy gaze focused on Bess. She met his gaze, but he could feel the slight tremble in her hand. Bruce was a scary man when he wanted to be, and Bess hated being on his bad side. She adored him, and reacted strongly to what she believed he thought of her. When he was upset with her, she didn't take it well.

“Speak,” Bruce commanded, and Bess told him everything. Dick held her hand while she did. When she was done, Bruce let out a heavy sigh. “You should never have gone. You should have told me immediately,” he scolded.

“I didn’t get the chance,” she said defensively. “I swear, I was going to.”

“Lay off, Bruce,” Dick said in a warning tone. Bruce’s attention shifted to him. “You let her do this?”

“I am a grown woman,” Bess snapped. Dick squeezed her hand slightly. “It was a good idea, Bruce,” he said. “If she can get the Court’s trust, we can take them down from the inside. The information she’s gotten us about other Gotham villains could already-”

“That information is compromised.” Bruce cut him off. “If we act on it, the Court will know where we got it from.”

Dick let out a huff of frustration. “Well, what would you have done then?”

He was surprised when Bruce paused at that. Bruce sat down in the chair Tim had been in. He looked... tired. Even for him. “I would have done the same, in your shoes,” he admitted. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and Dick realized he wasn’t angry.

He was scared.

Bess seemed to realize it, too. “Bruce, I’ll be careful. I was going to tell you because I want you to tell me what to do. How do I handle this? I can’t give them your identity, but I have to give them something. I’m the operative, but I’m not the mastermind here.”

It was the right thing to say. Bruce’s expression softened (which for him, meant neutral angry). “We all need some rest,” he said. Dick was surprised. Bruce never admitted to needing rest. He supposed that if anything was going to do it, the events of the past couple of days would be it.

“Stay here today,” Bruce requested. “We’ll talk about it tonight and come up with a plan.” Bess nodded, and Dick watched the tension leave her body. He looked concerned when she tensed up again. “Fuck,” she muttered. “I have an exam tomorrow.” She turned to Dick. “I need to study.”

It was almost comical, being worried about something as mundane as an exam. He would have laughed if he weren’t so tired.

Bruce got up to leave, and paused at the elevator door. “Thank you,” he said, “for helping me find Damian.” He looked over his shoulder with the slightest hint of a smile. “He said you were the one who convinced him to come with us. Something about ‘a crazy bitch wouldn’t shut up about love.’ I’m glad it worked.”

Bess’s laugh was like bells, but not little ones. More like cathedral bells that warmed your bones when they rang. It was loud and genuine. Her smile was compassionate when she said, “be gentle with him. He’s clearly been through a lot.”

“He’s been here for a few hours and he already wants to be Robin,” Bruce replied. “I think he’ll fit right in.”

"You're going to let him?" Dick asked, surprised. Bruce made a sound that might have meant amusement. "Have I ever been able to stop any of you?"

With that, Bruce left them, and Dick became aware of that lingering uncomfortable feeling again. He knew he couldn't ignore it for long. “Bess,” he said, looking into her soulful brown eyes.

“I think I’m jealous of Tim.” Just saying it felt like a huge relief. Bess looked surprised. “Jealous? How come?”

Dick looked down at her hands. “I know your relationship is still new, but I feel like you’ve been giving him all of your attention.” He hung his head, feeling ashamed, and added, “I don’t want you to forget about me.”

“Oh, Dick,” she said, pulling him into a hug. “I could never forget you.” She buried her face in his hair. He melted into her, squeezing her waist tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. All of his jealousy melted away, replaced by a deep, intense feeling that was a mix of adoration and fear.

“I need you,” he told her, barely able to manage a whisper. He felt like he was suffocating. “I need you too, Dick,” she replied, sweet as honey. She held him like that for a few minutes. He didn’t even realize he had been shaking until he stopped. He was too tired to cry. Her hand traced up and down his spine. He barely felt it through his suit, but it was the thought that counted.

“I can’t come to Bludhaven right now,” she said when she finally let go. “But I promise when this is all over, I will.”

A wave of bitterness crashed over Dick, and he snapped without meaning to. “It’s never over though, is it? There will be something else, then something after that. It never ends.”

Bess put her hand on his leg. “This is the life we chose, Dick.”

“It’s the life you chose.” Dick regretted the words as soon as he said them, but he couldn’t take them back. He couldn’t look her in the eye. His leg bounced up and down rapidly, and he couldn't get it to stop.

Her response had a bit more edge to it than he expected. “You could have quit at any time, Dick.”

“You don’t think I tried?” He felt like something was trying to crawl out of his throat, and his face felt hot. “I tried, after Bruce kicked me out. I tried after Jason died. I keep thinking I don’t want to be a part of this anymore, but then something happens, and someone needs me, and I keep thinking that if I don’t, no one will. I try to crawl out of this pit, and I keep getting dragged back in!” It came out in a rush, but he felt better after saying it.

Bess squeezed his hand. “You feel trapped.”

He nodded, and something hot rolled down his cheek. Bess’s hand rested on his face, and her thumb wiped away the tear. She looked so sincere. “I promise,” she said quietly, “Gotham could burn to the ground, and I would still come to Bludhaven to stay with you. At least a month. Pinky promise?” She held up her pinky.

Dick hooked his pinky in hers. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“In the meantime, why don’t we go get some sleep?” She suggested, and it sounded like an excellent idea. Dick didn’t know if he even had the energy to shower. Bess took his hand and pulled him to his feet. She held his hand in the elevator, and up the stairs to where her old room was. He didn’t want to think about being in the manor, with so many memories and emotions all tangled up in the walls. He just wanted to think about her.

“Shower with me?” Bess asked him once the door was closed. Dick nodded numbly. He vaguely wondered where she found the energy to shower, but it sounded like a nice idea. She turned on the hot water, and started taking off her suit. He just watched, unable to convince his body to move. Not that he minded just watching her undress.

“I can’t wait to get this blood off my face,” Bess commented. Dick hadn’t even noticed it before, but her forehead was caked with splattered blood that had long since dried. He must have looked worried, because she added, “it’s not mine.”

She motioned for him to turn around and helped him undo his suit. It felt good to have it off. Steam had begun to fill the bathroom. Bess opened the glass door and stepped into the shower, letting out a sigh as the hot water washed over her. Dick stepped in behind her, and let out a yelp when the water hit his skin. “Do you always bathe at the temperature of hell?” He asked, cracking a smile.

“Of course! You’ll get used to it,” she teased, but turned the heat down. Dick let the hot water run over him, soothing his muscles and bruises and cuts. It felt amazing.

Bess scrubbed her face with a washcloth. The water that dripped from it was red. “Gross,” she mumbled. She got a clean cloth and put some soap on it, then put it on Dick’s back. He relaxed into her touch as she washed him. He felt as if she was breathing life back into him. “Do you know how incredible you are?” He asked over his shoulder.

“I do, but I still like to hear you tell me.”

“I adore you,” he said, turning around to face her. He took the cloth from her and rubbed it over her shoulders, applying a little pressure to the tense muscles there. She hummed with delight, leaning into him. “I love you, Dick,” she said softly.

“I love you.” He replied. “Being with you feels as natural as breathing.”

“Do you still feel jealous?” Bess asked, looking up at him. He shook his head. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said with a smile. “It’s important to know how you’re feeling. I’ll be sure to give you more attention, okay?”

“Thanks,” he said, feeling a weight lift off his chest.

“How about I come visit after exams? I can’t stay long, but a few days couldn’t hurt,” Bess suggested.

“Are you sure?” Dick asked. “I know you have a lot on your plate. I understand if now isn’t a good time. I could even come stay here for a bit.”

Bess put her hand on his chest. “I’m sure. It’s been a while since we’ve had a sleepover, and you’ve been away from Bludhaven too long already. The criminals there might start to get ideas.”

Dick laughed a bit at that. “You’re right, we can’t have that. I’d love to have you come stay.”

When they were clean, Bess turned off the water and handed Dick a fluffy towel. He dried quickly, feeling the exhaustion really set in. He collapsed into Bess’s bed, letting out a content sigh as his head hit the pillow. Bess settled next to him, radiating heat. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. Her hair tickled his neck.

“I love you, Bess,” he mumbled. He was asleep before he could hear her answer, but he knew that she loved him too.

Chapter Text

Bess had grown to hate lemongrass and spearmint tea. Maria Powers served it to her every time they had a meeting. It was a reminder that she was closely watched. Sitting in the Powers’ parlor, she glared down at the offending tea, served in an antique cup with red flowers painted on it.

“I’m sure you understand my frustration, Miss Brown,” Maria said, taking a sip from her own cup. Bess lowered her head. “I understand, Madame Powers, but they never reveal their identities to anyone, not even each other. Have I not sent you sufficient information these past few months?”

“Sufficient until now,” Maria said. Her cup clinked softly as she set it in the saucer. “If they won’t tell you, then you must find out on your own. It’s important that we find out this information as soon as possible. Increase your aggression in accomplishing this mission. It is of utmost importance.”

Bess didn’t miss the urgency in her voice. “Has something changed?” She asked, setting her cup down. Maria looked out the window, watching the orange leaves fall silently. A fall breeze swept through, whipping up a tornado of bright colors, before settling as quickly as it had come.

“Forgive me, my dear,” Maria said, surprising Bess. Maria never apologized, and if she did, Bess doubted she would ever sound so sincere. Her steely gaze turned back to Bess. “I am anxious about the end of the month.”

“Halloween?” Bess clarified. Maria nodded. “Yes, the Court has heard whispers of a few of our little lost birds. They may be planning to make a move.”

“Which ones?” Bess asked, hoping it wasn’t too much.

Maria studied her for a moment. Finally, she answered, “Jonathan Crane. Pamela Isley. Maybe others.”

“I thought Crane was dead.”

“So did I, but now I have sources telling me otherwise.” Maria explained. Bess could see the worry line between her eyebrows. Maria waved a hand around, expressing frustration. “And Isley has been silent since leaving Gotham. I don’t know why she would come back. We gave her everything she wanted. She should be somewhere in the tropics right now.”

“You’re not telling me everything,” Bess said gently. She couldn’t be too pushy, but over the past few months, she had learned where the line was. It moved farther and farther as Maria grew to like her more.

“Of course I’m not,” Maria laughed. It was a cold sound. “But I will tell you this. All of the major villains in Gotham have received an invitation to a meeting with Crane, hosted next week in the Iceberg Lounge. Cobblepot was kind enough to tell me about it. You know how desperate he is to have the Court’s approval.” Maria waved her hand as if the fact were amusing. "Considering that I haven't heard from our other villains, I would imagine they plan on attending without telling me."

“Do you want me to take care of it?” Bess had approval to pass along certain information in the past, when it benefited the Court. Little did they know, it worked the other way as well.

“You and the bats? No. You? Yes. Don’t interrupt the meeting, but I want to know exactly what’s going to be said. They can never know you were there, understand? And the bats will know nothing about this until I say so.” Maria leaned forward and raised her eyebrows, showing her seriousness.

“I understand,” Bess lowered her head respectfully. Maria sat back. “Good,” she said, and lit a cigarette. “I’ll call you with the details the night before. Be ready.” She waved her free hand, and Bess understood that she was dismissed.

“Thanks, Patrice!” Bess called out over her shoulder as she left Tim’s favourite coffee shop. She tucked the bag of donuts and the coffee snuggly in the tail box on her motorcycle. She traced a finger lovingly over the handlebars as she settled on it. It was a Kawasaki ZZ-R1200 in black and red, a birthday gift from Tim. She had lovingly named it ‘The Red Devil.’ It was no Batcycle, but it was great for racing around Gotham.

Her helmet was black, with little plastic cat ears on it. She pulled her hair into a bun and put the helmet on, revving the engine. It was like music to her. At first, she had tried to refuse the gift, saying it was too much. Tim had insisted, and said, “I’m one of the richest men in the world, sweetness. It’s nothing. Take the bike, and let me spoil you every now and then.”

She laughed at the thought as she raced through the streets of Gotham, weaving through traffic. She could see the sun setting as she crossed over Mercy Bridge. It was a beautiful sight. She pulled to a stop in the middle of the bridge, pausing to take a picture of the sunset. Gotham sure is beautiful, she thought, then laughed at herself and mentally added, sometimes.

She rode to Panessa Studios and parked her bike around the back of the building. She removed her helmet and put on her Phoenix mask. She wasn’t going to wear the whole suit, however. She pulled a black hoodie over her nicer clothes. It was just enough to hide her identity from the "patients" Batman was keeping there.

She climbed up the wall to the VIP entrance, and gave her voice authorization to get in. The elevator made plenty of noise as it descended into the building.

“I smell coffee,” Tim said when the doors opened. “Nothing gets past you, does it?” Bess held up the cup and the bag. Tim, in his Red Robin suit, pulled her in by her waist for a quick kiss before taking the coffee and donuts from her. “Thanks,” he said.

“Bring me anything?” Henry Adams asked miserably. He was one of Batman’s patients, the only one unaffected by Joker’s contaminated blood. The others, Cristina Bell, Albert King, and Johnny Charisma, were all in the small cells set up in the studio. They were as mad as the Joker had been. It gave Bess the creeps.

Bess smiled at Henry. “There’s a bacon egg croissant in there for you, Henry.” Tim handed it to the old man, who opened it and dug in voraciously. “So,” he said around a mouthful, “can I leave yet?”

“Sorry, Henry,” Tim answered. “I know this isn’t fun, but we need you here until we find a cure.”

Henry glowered at him. Tim ignored him and went back to working on the sample of Henry’s blood, tapping away at the keyboard.

“I’m sorry, Henry,” Bess said apologetically. “I checked in with Judy. She’s doing alright.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t see her. If I have to be here, the least you could do is let me see my family,” Henry grumbled. Bess nodded understandingly. “Batman’s orders,” she said. “Hopefully it won’t be too much longer.”

“Speak of the devil,” Tim said, and Bess heard the elevator running. She turned to face it, and was surprised to see Jim Gordon was there with him. She elbowed Tim, who looked up from his work.

“Commissioner Gordon,” Tim greeted him. “Good evening, Red Robin,” Jim replied with familiarity, but not friendliness. Batman gestured with his head towards the elevator, and his message was clear. Get lost.

Tim cleared his throat. “I’m going to step out for some air.” He stood after pausing his program. Bess followed him, and they rode the elevator up and out of the building.

“I can’t imagine Jim’s going to like unlawful detainment,” Bess commented once they were outside on the roof. "Especially Henry. The others are clearly insane, but Henry's just a guy."

Tim shook his head and replied, “no, I doubt it, but Batman will convince him to go along with it for now.”

“How is he?” Bess asked quietly, even though there was no one to overhear him.

“I don’t know,” Tim admitted, looking up at the darkening sky. “I was hoping that time with Damian might soften him up, but he’s only gotten grouchier these past few weeks.” He turned to look at her. “You should spend more time with the kid. He looks up to you,” he said. "Even if he won't admit it."

“I know,” Bess said. It was true. In his own way, Damian had become attached to her. When she saw him, he always wanted to spar. Her strength was a novelty to him, and he had become determined to be the next Robin. Bruce had been stalling under the guise of training, but the kid was good. It was easy to see his mother in him, but over the time he'd spent in Gotham, more and more of his father came out.

Bess just wanted to let him be a kid, but Damian was stubborn. He was just like the rest of them, even if he didn’t think that was the case.

“How did your meeting with Maria go?” Tim asked, dragging her out of her thoughts. Bess told him about the meeting of villains, and how Maria had demanded she go alone. She sat on the edge of the roof and kicked her feet. Tim sat next to her, and she put her head on his shoulder.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Tim asked. Bess sighed. “No, Maria wants me to go alone. She was very clear about that. If she somehow finds out-”

“She won’t.”

“She could. She’s got eyes everywhere, Tim. She knew my favourite tea.”

Nimble fingers traced up and down her ribs. It was soothing, but also a little ticklish. She resisted the urge to squirm, and hooked her fingers around his hip instead.

“I’m sorry, Bess,” Tim said quietly. “I wish I could get you out of this.”

“It won’t last forever,” she tried to reassure him, but she couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling in her stomach. It never ends, she thought.

“Let’s go out tomorrow,” Tim suggested, his back straightening. “Let me take you on a date.” Bess smiled at the thought. “I could make time tomorrow. What are you thinking?”

“Let’s go on a fancy date. There’s a sushi bar near Wayne International Plaza that opened last year. Reservations are supposed to be made a few months in advance, but I could pull some strings.” Tim said with a hint of mischief in his voice.

“Are you flexing your wealth, Tim Drake?” Bess teased.

“I might be.”

Sushisho Yamato was a rooftop restaurant on Founder’s Island, and it had become one of the most popular restaurants of the year. Glowing aquariums were set between tables, offering privacy for its clientele. Tim was recognized by some of Gotham’s elite that were there, and stopped to chat for a few minutes before allowing the hostess to lead him and Bess to the table. Their table was near the edge of the rooftop, with a glamorous view of the city.

Bess wore a crimson body-con dress that sparkled in the lowlight, and Tim had a tie to match. He had greeted her with a dozen roses, and picked her up in a Lamborghini. She hadn’t even known that he owned one. Tim didn't often flaunt his status, but every now and then he surprised her with his taste for finer things.

He sat across from her, his features lit up by the aquariums around them. A waiter came by before they even had a chance to look at the menu, and offered a selection of wines and sake. Bess ordered some sake with a smile; Tim got the same. When the waiter left, Bess asked humorously, “have you ever heard of a sake bomb?”

“No, what is it?”

Bess almost laughed before she could get the story out. “It’s a shot of sake balanced on chopsticks over a mug of beer. You pound on the table until it falls, then you chug it. The first time I had one, I was out at a nightclub with Barbara, and we made friends with this group of girls from Star City. They ordered a round for all of us, and we each took turns chugging.” She was giggling by the end at the memory.

Tim laughed softly. “That sounds like fun. Do you remember which club?”

“Yeah, it’s over in Otisburg, I think it’s called the Diamond Lass or something like that.”

“That’s grim,” Tim said teasingly.

Bess waved her hand dismissively. “It’s a great party bar, lots of tourists drop by there.”

“Let’s go.” Tim said, opening his menu.

“Go?”

“Yeah, after we eat, let’s go party. It’s been too long since we’ve done something stupid just for fun,” Tim said, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “Besides, the press needs something to talk about, and I can’t think of anything better than partying with my girl.”

Bess felt the heat in her cheeks, and hid her smile behind her hand. Her heart jumped a bit in her chest. “Alright, let’s do it.”

The sushi was amazing. Bess was a huge fan of the yellowtail. “I can see why this place is popular,” she commented after finishing her meal. Tim nodded, folding his napkin. “That was delicious. We should come back here.”

“Are you ready to go?” Bess asked.

“Not yet.” Tim got a mischievous smile and reached into his jacket. “I know you don’t like accepting expensive gifts, but I saw these and thought of you. I would love it if you put them on.” He handed her a black velvet box. Inside was a set of ruby earrings and a matching necklace. The rubies were surrounded by tiny diamonds. It was a simple, elegant design; flashy, but not gaudy. Bess put her hand to her face. “Wow, Tim, these are beautiful!”

“Wear them?”

Bess nodded quickly and removed the studs she had in her ears, tucking them in her purse. She put the ruby earrings in her ears and had Tim help her put the necklace on. She admired herself in her phone’s camera. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at Tim.

“Anything for you, sweetness.”

The nightclub’s bass could be felt through the ground as they walked from the car to the front doors. There was a long line outside the Diamond Lass. It wasn’t the Iceberg Lounge, but it certainly wasn’t a hole in the wall. Through the door, colorful lights and lasers could be seen flashing, with a full dancefloor.

Once the doorman saw Tim, they were given the VIP treatment. They got to have a table up on the balcony over the dancefloor, and the VIP section had its own bar. Bess was more than happy to get drunk on Tim’s dime. He was right, it had been too long since they had just relaxed and partied together. It was nice to forget the heaviness of their lives for a while.

“Omigosh, are you Tim Drake?!” A young woman in a bright green mini dress bounced over. A few tables over, a group of what Bess assumed was her friends were watching closely, giggling behind their hands. They reminded her of the girls she and Barbara had partied with all those years ago.

“I am.” Though the music wasn’t as loud where they were, Tim still had to raise his voice to be heard. “Omigosh I knew it!” The girl squealed. “My name is Tasha. Can I take a picture with you?” Bess hid her smile behind her drink. Tim took a picture with Tasha, flashing his signature smile.

Tasha stomped her feet rapidly with excitement as she looked at the picture. “Thank you so much!” She squealed. Then her gaze turned to Bess. “Wow, you are, like, so pretty! No wonder you’re out with Tim Drake!”

Bess grinned. “Thanks!"

The girl squinted at her, then her eyes widened. "No way, you're Bessie Brown!"

Bess laughed, "yes, I am. Hey, Tasha, do you know what a sake bomb is?”

Tasha shook her head, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Bess winked at her. “Do you want to find out?”

Chapter Text

Bess woke to the smell of fresh coffee, and the feeling of silk sheets. She groaned to herself and rolled over, shoving her head into the pillow, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep. Unfortunately, it seemed that she was awake for the day.

She rubbed her eyes, then looked around, recognizing Tim’s bedroom. He already opened the curtains, and sunlight bathed the room. She was wearing his shirt. As she emerged from grogginess, she remembered how she had gotten there. They had partied with Tasha and her friends until the club had closed, and had gotten quite intoxicated. Tim was in no state to drive, so he called someone to pick them up and drop them off at his apartment.

“Hey, sweetness. Sleep well?” Tim emerged from the doorway, with two steaming mugs in hand. He was just wearing pajama pants. The sunlight cast shadows across his muscular torso and highlighted his scars. He was gorgeous.

Bess nodded, then wriggled to sit up. She reached out, making a grabbing motion. Tim chuckled and handed her a cup of coffee. She took a deep breath, relishing the smell, before drinking deeply. The hot liquid felt good all the way down her throat. “Thanks Tim,” she said after draining half the cup.

He set his mug on the side table and sat on the bed next to her. “Last night was fun,” he said, laying back across her lap.

“Mhm.” She set her mug down and ran her fingers through his hair. “Those girls were a lot of fun.”

Tim gave her a mischievous look. “They sure were. Especially the one in blue, what was her name again?”

Bess felt heat flood her face as she remembered that she had a pretty heated makeout session with a girl named Anastasia. She put her face in her hands, letting out an embarrassed whine. Tim teased her. “I think it’s hot. We should go out more often.” She grabbed a pillow and shoved it in Tim’s face, muffling his laughter. He rolled off her lap and snatched the pillow, holding it up threateningly.

“Tim Drake, don’t you dare!” She shrieked, grabbing another pillow for defense.

“Or what, sweetness?” He asked, giving her a devilish smirk. He swung, whacking her with the pillow. She screamed and retaliated, beating him with her pillow. He dove for her, grabbing her wrists and pinning her down. She breathed heavily, admiring the way the sunlight played in his eyes.

“I love when you wear my shirts,” Tim said, hovering over her. He lowered his head, brushing his lips over her forehead. “I want to take it off of you.”

“Not so fast, Drake,” she clicked her tongue admonishingly. In one swift movement, she reversed their positions, straddling his waist and holding him down with a hand on his chest. “You still need to be punished for attacking me.”

Tim’s cheeks reddened. “Come on, sweetness, no need to be so rough, ” he practically purred the last word. His hands rested on her hips and pulled her down to sit on him. She could feel how turned on he was. He said, “Let me make it up to you.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Bess asked, feeling her excitement build. Tim took hold of the hand that wasn’t on his chest and pulled it up to his lips, placing kisses along her palm and wrist. She could feel the vibrations of his voice on her skin as he spoke. “I haven’t had breakfast yet.” His blue eyes held her gaze with a surprising intensity. “I’d love to feast on you.”

“I could be convinced,” Bess said, hiding her smile behind her other hand. “Please?” Tim asked, giving her puppy eyes. He licked his lips slowly, making it a show, then said, “I’m starving.”

Bess looked away, unable to hold his gaze. Tim’s low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he sat up. He wrapped his arms around her and planted little kisses on her collar bones. She leaned her head back, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Put the rubies back on,” he murmured between kisses. “I want to eat you out while you’re wearing them.”

“Where are they?” Bess asked breathlessly.

“Bathroom counter.”

Bess got off of him and went to the bathroom to retrieve the gems. She pulled his shirt off, leaving it on the floor, as well as the boxers she had also stolen from him, and put the jewelry on. She took a moment to wrangle her bedhead back into a poofy bun.

Tim knocked on the door frame, then leaned against it. “You always look amazing,” he praised. Bess beamed, admiring herself in the mirror. Tim stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her. His fingers traced the curves of her hips. It tickled and felt good at the same time, earning a shiver from her. She turned around and pulled him in to kiss him. He tasted like coffee. He pressed her legs against the cold counter. She made a soft noise against his lips.

He bent down and hooked his hands under her knees. He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around him. He supported her with hands on her ass. She clung to him, tangling her fingers in his hair.

He carried her out of the bathroom, but didn’t head to the bed. “Where are we going?” Bess asked between kisses. He answered casually, “I like to eat breakfast in the kitchen.” He set her on the edge of the counter. “Cold!” She squeaked, squeezing his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be feeling hot soon.” Tim knelt in front of her, moving her knees to rest on his shoulders. He kissed her thighs and asked sweetly, “do you like it when I’m on my knees for you?” Bess nodded, leaning back and supporting her weight with her hands. “You look good like that,” she praised. She felt Tim’s smile against her skin.

He kissed along her thighs. One of his hands slid up her stomach to her chest, and he pushed gently. She laid back on the counter, tensing at the cold marble on her back. Once she was there, his hand returned to her thighs, squeezing the flesh there.

“Tim,” she breathed, excitement coursing through her. “Yes ma’am?” He asked, his voice like music. Bess ran a hand through his hair. “Fucking touch me already,” she demanded. Tim’s laugh, that classic rich boy laugh, was laced with arousal. Bess gasped when he flicked his tongue over her clit teasingly. She ached for him at this point.

He took hold of one of her thighs and pushed it to the side, pressing it against the counter. The other leg stayed on his shoulder. “Damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hot breath against her skin only arousing her more. “I love being on my knees like this for you,” he purred.

“Mmmhmm,” Bess dragged out the sound. Tim dragged his tongue over her pussy, then dipped it inside. Bess rolled her hips into the sensation, letting out a soft moan. She whined when he pulled back.

“Impatient,” he teased. She huffed, but didn’t deny it. He put her other thigh against the counter. “Can you do something for me?” He asked sweetly. “Hold your legs apart like this.” If she hadn’t been so turned on, Bess would have been embarrassed by being so exposed on the counter like that. As it stood, she didn’t care, and held her legs where he wanted them.

“Thank you, sweetness,” he murmured, then pressed his lips against her clit. His tongue darted out, swirling in slow, agonizing circles around the sensitive bud. Bess whimpered and bit her lip, loving the sensation. Heat flooded her body.

“Tell me, sweetness,” Tim began, tracing circles around her pussy with his fingers, “do you want me to be slow and sweet, or do you want me to be a little rough?”

“I don’t care, Tim, as long as you do it now, ” Bess let her impatience get the best of her.

“Yes ma’am,” Tim replied, then buried his face between her legs. She could feel his morning scruff against her skin. He pushed two fingers into her and curled them. His tongue circled around her clit, then dragged slowly over in. He was no longer teasing, and the result had her shaking and begging for more. “Please, Tim, please!” She leaned her head back, arching her back off the counter.

Tim began sucking on her clit, rubbing up and down with his tongue. He pumped his fingers slowly, but with plenty of pressure on the right spots. He hummed against her, and when she looked down, those cornflower blue eyes bore into her as if staring into her very soul.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, laying her head back again. She gasped for breath, the sensation of his attention sending waves of pleasure through her. “Fuckin’ hell, Tim, that feels good.” She picked her head up to look at him again and said, “you’re such a good boy.”

His eyebrows pulled together in an expression that said he liked hearing that. He let out a little sound of delight. He closed his eyes, giving full attention to what he was doing. Bess could feel her toes going numb. The feeling crawled up her legs. “Tim, I’m close,” she gasped between moans. Tim’s free hand trailed lightly up and down the back of her thigh. It was a sensitive area, and only added to the sensations coursing through her.

Her breathing grew more ragged. Tim’s fingers pulsed inside her, and his mouth expertly worked her bud. Before she knew what was happening, Bess’s orgasm ripped through her, and the kitchen filled with a warm, golden light. Tim’s eyes opened to watch her. She arched her back, crying out his name as she came.

Bess was shaking when she began to recover. She tried to catch her breath, and let go of her legs. Tim placed soft kisses on her thighs and murmured, “delicious.” Bess giggled helplessly, her emotions flooding her. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, looking down at Tim. “Damn, Drake, that is one talented mouth.”

Tim winked at her. “I know.”

While Bess caught her breath, Tim brought her some water. She gulped it down, only just now realizing how thirsty she was. When she was done, she looked over at Tim. He was downing water as well. She watched his adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed. A little drop of water trickled over his chin and down his neck.

He caught her staring, and the corner of his lips pulled up in a sly smile. She quickly looked away, clearing her throat. She asked, “would you like some real breakfast? I’ll cook for you.”

“Yes please,” he replied. “Can I watch you cook with just the rubies on?” He asked earnestly.

Bess giggled behind her hand. “Sure, but I’m not making bacon.”

“How about waffles?” Tim suggested.

“Do you have buttermilk?”

“In the fridge.”

Bess began mixing up the batter, while Tim got out the waffle iron to preheat. Bess mentally went over the recipe she had made with her mother. That seemed like a lifetime ago. She rarely thought about her parents anymore.

She made the mix, sprayed the iron, and poured batter on with a satisfying sizzle. She closed the iron, then turned to face Tim. He was leaning back against the counter, looking down at his phone. “Look at this, sweetness,” he said, turning the screen towards her.

Bess moved closer. A laugh burst out of her. Tim was looking at a tabloid news article about their night out last night. The headline read: Gotham’s Princess goes wild: Tim Drake and Bessie Brown go partying with tourists. The first picture was of Bess and Tim doing a little dirty dancing in the nightclub.

“Damn, they move fast. Did they say anything interesting?” Bess asked. Tim shrugged, “nothing too crazy. It’s just a tabloid, after all.”

The waffle iron dinged. Bess went to retrieve the waffles.

“Hey,” Tim wrapped his arms around her and pressed his chest into her back. “After breakfast, do you wanna get up to some more trouble?” He pressed his hips into hers and peppered her shoulder with kisses.

Bess barely managed to suppress her giggle. “You know I do, Tim.”

Chapter Text

Four vents. The practice was calming, almost meditative. Two windows. Big ones, locked tight and reinforced. No floor grates. Searching the room for potential weaknesses had become second nature. A lock-down security system with a button under the desk. A classic. One would think people that rich would put their panic buttons in less obvious places. Especially rich criminals.

“Are you ready?” It was a rough voice, as if its owner had spent years screaming until the vocal cords stopped trying to heal. There was no answer. After a moment of silence, slow footsteps circled around the desk. A shredded face behind a shredded burlap sack contained eyes that looked strangely human. Big brown eyes that didn’t belong on such a menacing face.

“Scared?” Scarecrow spoke again with an obvious sneer in his voice. That wouldn’t do, so the Arkham Knight stood up, and up, and up, until he was towering over Jonathan Crane. There it was, the slightest widening of Crane’s eyes.

The Arkham Knight bent over until he was inches away from Scarecrow’s face. “Do I look scared to you?” A synthesized voice made him sound less like a man, and more like a machine. The helmet left nothing but a smooth, reflective surface in place of his face. The last thing anyone would see before they died would be their own face. Strange, how the Arkham Knight and the Scarecrow chose very different ways to meet the same end: a face to be afraid of.

To Scarecrow’s credit, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t back down, or grovel, or even lower his gaze; he just stared back. The Arkham Knight respected him for that. Still, he couldn’t be the first to look away.

A knock on the door caught their attention, and Scarecrow shifted his gaze. Arkham Knight turned around. Penguin looked apologetic at daring to enter his own office. With the door open, the thumping bass heartbeat of the Iceberg Lounge reached them. “Sorry to disturb you,” Penguin sniveled, “but the others have arrived.”

“Bring them in,” Arkham Knight said, the synthesizer masking any emotion. “Let’s get started.”

Into the spacious office, came the worst of them. Two-Face. Mr. Freeze. Poison Ivy. Garfield Lynns. Harley Quinn. A few others. Some of the worst criminal masterminds Gotham had to offer.

Riddler was there too, but only because he would have thrown a tantrum if he wasn’t invited. Arkham Knight didn’t expect him to stay.

Working with them made his skin crawl, but as they say, “the enemy of my enemy.” He would take care of them after the Batman was dead.

Arkham Knight got right down to business. “I understand that we share a common goal,” he began. “We all want Batman dead.”

He watched their reactions closely. Harvey Dent seemed to be mentally arguing with himself. Half of his face grinned, the other half scowled. Mr. Freeze’s expression was no different; he always looked mildly displeased. Ivy looked bored, but in the carefully curated way that revealed she was interested. Harley Quinn looked enraged, barely able to control it.

Arkham Knight had heard that Joker was dead, but he hadn’t really believed it until now. He had heard that Batman had finally killed the psycho clown. He wondered what the real story was. He couldn’t believe that Batman would kill Joker now, after everything he let slide in the past.

Arkham Knight focused his attention on Harley Quinn, speaking to her without directly addressing her. “Aren’t you tired of letting him call the shots?” He addressed them all again. “Aren’t you tired of having your city held hostage by a man in a bat suit?” There were a few murmurs of assent. He took a few slow steps. Movement kept attention. “Aren’t you sick of living in fear?” The responses were a bit louder now.

“It’s about time someone put him in his place,” Two-Face sneered, leaning forward and jutting his arm out. He had clearly won over Harvey Dent.

“Hold on now, Harvey,” Poison Ivy’s smooth, alluring voice cast an instant spell over the others. Her sharp gaze turned to the Arkham Knight. “Who are you, anyway? What makes you think you can kill him, when so many others have failed?” He had expected her scrutiny, and she had set him up beautifully.

“I am the Arkham Knight, and I have an army.” He said it without flourish, without drama, but it still had an impact. After a brief pause, Harley Quinn spoke. Her nasally, high pitched voice filled the room she was in. “We’ve got plenty of men, too, numbers aint gonna cut it.”

“Your little band of scum you scraped off the streets isn’t an army,” Arkham Knight replied. There was no sneer in his words, no taunt, merely a cold statement of fact. “My men are professionals, hardened by years of training and action in the field. They’re the best of the best when it comes to occupation.”

“Occupation?” Freeze asked.

“Yes. We’re not just going to kill Batman.” He hit a button, and a hologram of Gotham City appeared over Penguin’s desk. “We’re going to take Gotham City. We’ll oust Commissioner Gordon as well, and send the cops running. We’re going to teach everyone in Gotham the meaning of fear, and then we’re going to teach the entire eastern seaboard.”

“You sure don’t think small,” Two-Face seemed mildly impressed, but he put on an air of skepticism. “How do you plan to accomplish that? Taking down Batman is one thing, but pissing off the Justice League? No way in hell are we coming out on top.”

“I think you might change your mind when you hear my plan,” Arkham Knight said, and gestured to the hologram. “Scarecrow has developed a new formula for his fear toxin. We’ll be hosting a little demonstration soon. All it takes is a little incident, so everyone is paying attention, then we announce our true attack on Halloween.”

“Waitwaitwait,” Harley put her hands up and shook them around in disbelief. “You want to just tell everyone out there the plan?”

“Yes,” Scarecrow answered. It was as if the others were noticing his presence for the first time. He seemed to materialize from the shadow next to the desk. Scarecrow explained, “Commissioner Gordon will have no choice but to evacuate the city. We’ll be able to take Ace Chemicals without much of a fight,” he gestured to the hologram, which zoomed in on the island the factory was built on. “There, we’ll use the facility to manufacture fear gas at a massive scale. The detonation will be enough to cover the east coast. There will be nowhere left to run.”

“Oh yeah?” Penguin was feeling a little brave, it would seem. “And what happens to us when that goes off?”

“You will be safe in a Stagg Industries airship,” the Arkham Knight took over the conversation.

“And you don’t think Batman’ll stop you?” Penguin asked.

“Oh, I’m hoping he tries,” Arkham Knight’s excitement was clear, even with the synthesizer. “While he’s busy at Ace chemicals, my men will move in and take the city before he even knows what’s happening. If he dies at Ace, great, but I think we all know it will take more than that to defeat Batman. What he won't know is that Ace is a ploy. The real gas bomb will be somewhere else. But that’s not the important part. The real beauty of this plan is that I know all Batman’s secrets.”

He had their full attention now. “I’ve got good intel, better than any of you could even begin to imagine. While you all keep him busy, my army will target people close to him, the ones that make his operation run. We’ll use them as bait, and with Scarecrow pulling the strings of Batman’s fears, he’ll rush headfirst into our trap. We’ll kill him on live TV, after exposing his identity to the world. I know how to break him.”

He could tell he was winning them over. Well, all except Ivy. She didn’t seem impressed. “Should you agree to join us,” Arkham Knight said, “I’ll come to you privately with more specific assignments. If I tell you the whole plan, there’s a chance that Batman will find out. You’ve all experienced his interrogations. It’s better that you don’t know everything. I’ll give you your city back. All you have to do is cooperate.”

“Count me out,” Poison Ivy said, getting to her feet in a motion that was both graceful and aggressive. “I’ve heard it all before. I’d rather not get caught in the fallout of this one.” Arkham Knight had expected that from her. He gestured toward the door. He expected her to make chaos on her own, the night of the attack. It didn’t really matter how.

“Count me out, too!” Riddler exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “I have my own plan to bring down the Batman! It’s much better than yours, and doesn’t require me to rely on small minded imbeciles like you!” He gestured around the room, and made a big show of throwing open the door to leave.

His reaction was also expected, and rather appreciated. Arkham Knight didn’t want him fucking things up anyway. It was better for Riddler to think it was his own idea to distract Batman with endless riddles on the night of the attack.

“Well, I’m in!” Harley Quinn crossed her arms and leaned back. She kicked her leg out dramatically before resting it over the other one. Little bells on her shoes jingled as she bounced her feet. “It’s about time someone put Batbrain in his place, and an army sure doesn’t hurt! He needs to pay for what he did to Mr. J!”

“Not to question your plan,” Penguin cut in sheepishly, “but what about Batman’s little crew? I mean, I’m sure we can handle ‘Boy Wonder’ just fine, and fairy boy if he shows up, but what about Phoenix?”

The room fell still, tension settling over them like a blanket. Phoenix clearly commanded respect from the villains of Gotham. Not quite like Batman did, but it was enough of a reaction to give Arkham Knight pause. It’s likely Bess, he thought. He had heard enough about Phoenix to be cautious, same as the other two, but was she really that much better than Robin or Nightwing? Enough to give all the worst people in Gotham something to fear?

From what he heard, she was terrible at stealth. Nothing much has changed, I guess, he thought. Perhaps she had become better at outright fighting? It didn’t matter right now.

Arkham Knight replied smoothly, “don’t you worry about Phoenix, or the others. I’ve got a plan to handle it.” His confidence seemed to be enough to quell their fears, for now.

Two-Face agreed to join, as did Lynns, and the others in the room. All except Freeze. Monotone as ever, he said, “I am not interested. I have my own problems to deal with, and I don’t wish to be on Batman’s hit list. I will, however, stay out of your way.”

“I thought you might say that,” Arkham Knight said, putting his hands together. “It sure is a shame that Nora would disagree.” The not-so-subtle threat put a chill over the room. Freeze’s eyebrows lowered. “What do you mean?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Nora is a guest of mine,” Arkham Knight said, as if it were truly a casual thing. He let his hands talk as much as his mouth as he spoke. “She agrees, all you need to do is set a little trap for Batman. You’re just buying time. Once you’ve bought enough time, Nora will be glad to come home to you.” He turned to face the hologram, and hit a button. An image of Nora’s cryochamber filled the space, with a member of Arkham Knight’s army holding up that morning’s newspaper.

Freeze glowered, but remained silent. “I’m glad we’ve reached an understanding. I’ll be in touch,” Arkham Knight said and waved his hand, dismissing them.

Then he heard it. Over the sound of feet shuffling and Freeze’s suit whirring, there was a small sound out of place. It came from the wall. Penguin’s office was soundproof, so it wasn’t from outside. Arkham Knight flipped on his thermal vision. Sure enough, in one of the vents, a heat signature. A surprisingly strong one. It wasn’t big enough to be Batman himself, and it was much warmer than a healthy body should be. Either the spy had a bad fever, or Batman found himself a mutant.

My replacement, maybe? Arkham Knight thought with rising bitterness. The latest model of child soldier. He let out a sharp breath. He stayed put while the others filed out. Scarecrow looked back at him. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he said, waving Scarecrow away. Scarecrow nodded once and closed the door behind him.

Arkham Knight walked casually around the room. The heat signature didn’t move, likely hoping to wait for him to leave before they crawled out of the vent. He strolled leisurely around, not wanting to tip them off. He stopped right in front of the vent, and he could hear the smallest intake of breath.

Sloppy.

In one swift movement, he punched through the grate and grabbed a handful of hair, dragging the spy out of the wall. There was a sharp yelp. He threw them against the wall and put his forearm against their throat. It was then that he got a good look at her face.

Rage roiled in his stomach. It felt like it was choking him. She was in his way. Why was she in his way? Why was she stopping him? Didn’t she want the Joker dead, too? How could she just sit there and do nothing? How dare she stand in his way!

He hadn’t meant to. It happened so fast. The syringe seemed to appear in his hand. There was no resistance when he plunged it into her neck. The last time he saw her face, she had this heart-wrenching expression of betrayal. He couldn’t look at her any longer. He had to move forward.

How was he supposed to know he would never see her again? That the face she made would haunt him through the torture, the torment, the long, frigid nights spent alone? That she would be in his nightmares, never making a sound, just looking at him like he was a stranger.

“Come on, Todders, just admit you miss the girl!” Laughter ricocheted around his skull like a bullet.

Jason froze. Every muscle in his body tensed. An icy chill raced up his spine. It made his teeth hurt. Even with her mask, he could never forget that face. He almost said her name.

Almost. He pulled himself together quickly.

“Looks like there are rats in the walls after all,” The Arkham Knight growled menacingly. Bess didn’t look afraid of him, though. Good to see she still wasn’t afraid of anything. After the initial surprise of being caught, her face was a cool mask of subtle defiance.

She had grown up. Her face had filled out more, her frame was more sturdy, and she no longer had that star-struck look of a teenager who felt really cool, being one of Batman’s sidekicks. She looked… hardened. He wondered what she had been through while he was gone. He wondered what Bruce had put her through.

She was much shorter than she used to be. Well, in reality, he was taller. They had been the same height once.

He was caught off guard when she put a boot to his chest. Flexible, he thought, just before he went flying back into the opposite wall. Dust and drywall crumbled around him. What the hell was that?! It felt like a cannon had just gone off on his chest, even with the dampers in his suit. He felt winded. For a couple seconds, he didn’t move.

He couldn’t stay down long. He forced himself to his feet and scrambled towards her. His suit threw up a warning on his helmet interface about the structural integrity being compromised. After one hit? Impressive. Batman must have spent a pretty penny on whatever technology was in her suit. Even the old man himself didn’t hit that hard. I guess that almost makes up for her complete lack of stealth.

The suit looked good on her, he had to admit. It had a burgundy tinge to it, with red highlights. Emblazoned on her chest in the classic Batman fashion was that symbol, except hers looked more like a bird.

Phoenix.

“You must be Phoenix,” Arkham Knight said casually. “Did Batman send you to do his dirty work?” In the back of his mind, he wondered how she had known about the meeting. Did they have a traitor? Or was she just lucky?

Was Batman on to him?

“Good guess.” Her voice was different than he remembered. She used to sound soft, musical even. Now, she had an edge to her voice. He wondered who she had become, in all their years apart? He wondered how much of her soul Batman had stolen.

Her eyes stayed trained on him; he felt as if they were burning through him. Her hands were down at her sides, but her shoulders were stiffened, and she was up on the balls of her feet. However, her feet were turned away from him. Was she going to run?

He saw her tense, and braced himself to chase her. Then he saw the slightest upturn of the corner of her lips, and realized a moment too late that she had played him. The kick slammed into his shoulders with the force of a freight train. He tried to brace, but was flung into the double doors of the office, and out into the hallway. She’s gotten faster, he thought, picking himself up.

“Villains these days,” he heard her scoff. “You lot just have no manners anymore. You haven’t even introduced yourself! No cool name, no monologue, just jumping straight into the fighting. I mean, if you’re going to pull my hair, you could at least buy me dinner first.”

Was she teasing him? It was strange; he had never been on the receiving end of combat quips. He almost smiled. “Arkham Knight,” he replied, holding his arm up. He set the rounds to incendiary. Let’s see how good you’ve really gotten, he thought, and braced his shoulder as mini rockets flew out of the armor on his wrist. They whistled through the air, heading straight for Phoenix.

The explosion rattled the walls. He could hear shouts from the ends of the hallway. Backup would arrive soon. He probably only had a minute or so left to test Phoenix’s capability. He kept his arm up. True to the family she came from, when the smoke cleared Phoenix wasn’t there. He didn’t expect the rounds to actually do any damage. Handling that sort of thing was one of the first lessons Batman taught his little soldiers.

He flipped his thermal vision on. She was back in the vents, quickly crawling away. As disappointed as he was, it was a good move on her part, if the sound of boots in the hallway was anything to go by.

She’s going to report back, he thought. Oh well. It’s not like Batman can stop what’s coming. Still, it would be a waste if he were to just let her go. He mapped out her most likely exit point and went to intercept it.

Penguin goons in their ridiculous little Penguin themed outfits ran towards him, the barrels of their guns pointed in his direction. No damn trigger discipline, he thought with a flash of annoyance. He pushed right past them without a word.

The night was cool outside, with the chill of autumn setting in. The Arkham Knight hopped out a window, walked along the ledge, and dropped onto the awning that Phoenix would be crawling on to. He flipped on his thermal vision. Sure enough, there she was, heading his way. Predictable.

He stood in front of the vent against the wall, with his feet on either side of the opening. She wouldn’t be able to see him from inside the vent. Her head popped out between his ankles. He could see the moment she saw his legs. She shot out of the vent and scrambled to her feet, turning to face him. He crossed his arms and leaned his weight to one side, so his hip stuck out. “I know all the tricks,” he said. “You won't escape that easily.”

“Look, you seem like a nice villain, but I can’t stick around,” she said with a half-smile. “I’ve got a date tonight and I’m already terribly late.”

A date?

He didn’t let himself think about it. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and drew the pistol from his belt. “What a shame, you’re going to leave them high and dry.” He aimed it at her.

She let out a huff that might have been a laugh. “I didn’t take you for a giant hammer man, but seriously? Guns are so cliche. Your rocket arms were almost creative, but now I’m just disappointed.”

Amidst the Gotham noise, he heard it. The familiar roar of a 786 cc, V-4 engine in 4th gear, echoing off the alley walls, and getting closer. He built that bike. He’d know it anywhere. Erase me, but keep the bike I built. Classic Batman. Phoenix glanced back over her shoulder, and said, “this has been fun, but my ride’s here.” With that, she backflipped off the roof.

He briefly considered jumping after her, but decided against it. He hadn’t said anything in the meeting that would compromise the mission if Batman found out. Even if he knew ACE was a ploy, Arkham Knight knew that Bruce wouldn’t just let that bomb go off. It would still work.

He looked over the edge, catching a glimpse of the bike as it sped past. Phoenix landed on it, and wrapped her arms around the driver. A man in a red suit. Red Robin, Arkham Knight thought. My replacement. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and made his skin crawl. He let out a sigh of frustration, and turned away from the road. He reminded himself that he needed to have patience. The brat would get what was coming to him soon enough.

They all would. They would pay for what they did to him. They would pay for forgetting he even existed.