Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Don’t underestimate a woman’s power to turn darkness into a beautiful thing, you place a woman in darkness and she will become it. She will dance in it, and she will devour it.”

May 14^th 2002, Gotham General;

Returning back to Gotham soil felt more empty than she expected, materializing into the dark alley across from the hospital she begins smoothing out her nice New York styled jacket that would make even Alfred proud. She’d rather be enveloped in her cloak like the past few months, she’d like to feel comfortable getting her footing on solid ground again. She listens to the slight murmurings from afar, this area of town always seemed to be the most quiet even at night. Having the hospital right here and just a block over the GCPD building and library right between, the area was more of a wealthy spot… privileged.

After straightening out her expensive Wayne clothing and hating the wealth handed to her and not ones who need it, she finally begins walking into the hospital waiting room and swiftly to the help desk.

“Gordon, please.” Maeve courteously tells the nurse typing away at her computer, only slightly lifting her chin but not her eyes in the direction of the room. “Thank you.” She whispers seemingly to herself, before walking down the long bright hallway. She reads over the names beside the room doors to make sure she doesn’t pass it, but finds no sight of her friend’s name.

“Miss Wayne, over here.” Commissioner Gordon’s voice quietly rings through the hall once she turns the corner, sitting in a comically small chair outside a recovery room. Maeve swiftly moves to him with an open hand. “Sir. Is she alright?”

The man’s eyes looked exhausted, her observation made more clear once he released her hand to press his thumb and finger into the bridge of his nose. He shakes her head at her question, giving the only answer she needs as she turns slowly towards the doorway. Jim gestures for her to go inside and she nods thankfully to him, unbuttoning her jacket as she slowly enters the room.

Barbra Gordon, Batgirl, the cities more commonly known female bat, sits battered, bruised and attached to many different IV’s in her hospital bed with her hands busy on a tablet of course. Maeve moves towards the chair set up next to her bed but Barbra’s eyes raise up from her work to gaze at her with a shocked look in her eyes. “Maeve?” She asks cautiously.

“Hey Babs.” Maeve whispers to her dropping down to the chair beside her friend, eyes roaming to understand the extent of her injuries but Barbra’s hand hurriedly grasps for hers stalling her. “Don’t.” The young woman tells her with a slight whimper in her voice, which made Maeve feel the sting in her gut shoot upwards to her chest. “What did he do to you…” Maeve reassuringly pats her other hand above hers, asking honestly instead of intrusively searching her over on her own.

A few moments of quiet breathing passes between them, Barbra’s eyes wide and locked onto hers with a desperation in them. Maeve tries to stay patient and understand her friend’s difficulty. “I can read your file, if that makes you more comfortable…”

“No…” Babs eyes squeeze shut tight and she drops her head forward, sighing loudly. “The- the bullet hit my thoracic region, sliced right through my T9…”

Her voice echo’s in the silence, Maeve holds onto her friend’s hand tight. Maeve might not be smart enough to be a doctor, but she understands the severity of the injury, looking Barbra once more over she puts the unfortunate pieces together than she might not have use of her entire lower body ever again. She pulls her hand back slowly and bows her head to let her eyes fall to the floor. “Fuck Babs…”

“I know…”

“What can I do? Did the bullet cut clean through? Can you tell me what muscle or nerve or whatever I’d have to focus on to fix it? Can I-“

“Maeve, no.” Barbra stops her. “Don’t- don’t worry about me. You need to go home, he needs you.”

Maeve tips her head to her in confusion, opening and closing her mouth to retort but no words come out.

“Don’t worry about me.” Barbra protests, nodding her head slowly to Maeve. “It’s good to see you home, even if the circumstances suck.”

“You’re joking.” Maeve finally finds her voice again, scoffing at her friend. “You expect me to-“

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again Maeve, and I’m grateful for you being here but…” Barbra cuts her off. “I know someone who actually needs you a lot more than I do right now.”

“Babs he fucking paralyzed you.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Her friend’s eyebrows crease tight in the middle. “Let me take care of me.”

Maeve tips her head back in confusion, letting her eyes wander over the ceiling tiles as she allows her magic to seep into the very building itself, feeling for a familiar heartbeat.

“He’s here?” Maeve murmurs at the realization that the clown himself was resting soundly just in the room above him. “Batman and my dad roughed him up pretty good, doctor says he’ll be fine and back off to Arkham in the next few days.” Barbra tells her, returning back to her tablet finally and waving her hand knowingly towards the bathroom. Maeve smiles at the notion, if there was ever a time that Barbra Gordon was willing to turn a blind eye towards violence she clearly was now. Well then, that sentencing couldn’t nearly be enough to cover this.

Grabbing her jacket and bag she swiftly moves into the bathroom, quickly and quietly changing into her gear before materializing into a thick black cloud and swirling up into the air vent above her. She creeps out in the room above the last, twirling into the shadow of the corner of the room before returning herself to solid form. She decides to wear her mask, leaving down the hood on her cloak to more accentuate the pointed ears in her silhouette. She steps slowly out of the shadow and into the light as the clown’s eyes sheepishly open and wander the room, once his eyes reach him, he takes a pause as his heart rate begins to pick up.

When he panically reaches for the emergency button along the side of his bed, she barely flicks her wrist and conjures it to her hand as she looks at him with vengeful eyes. “Not this time, clown.” She whispers viciously.

She pushes her energy through her fingers to let it slowly creep along the floor, allowing it to ripple and crack closer to the Joker as his grip on the handcuff attached to his bed tightens. She allows a malicious quiet laugh escape her mouth as she watches him whimper, pushing her energy up the bedrail and allowing it to float and build vastly as a cloud hovers just inches away from between his eyes. “Seems to be a real problem, allowing god-like beings sit among men.” She taunts him in a whisper, seeping her energy through his mind and twirling it tight around the part of his cerebral cortex that motors the reticular activating system.

She clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Temperamental, the whole lot of us.”

Poke, poke, and a laceration just enough to send him into a coma. She assumes she’ll be keeping track to see just how long this kind of damage takes to heal, especially when these doctors seem to have zero interest in his comfort. Her energy slowly pulls out of him and returns to her, a slight satisfaction keeping her there to watch as his body begins to adjust to the new injury.

“Penance will not hold back forever.” She whispers before conjuring the red alert button back to his bedside, and swirling into a cloud and out the window returning to the alleyway outside.

Chapter Text

When her feet land solid on the ground back outside, a strange cold wet feeling appears on the back of her hand. A tiny sound of a whine in the darkness as she cautiously leans down to find a black little German Shepherd with wide brown eyes staring directly into hers, a smile grows across her face. “Hey there pal.” She turns her hand over slowly to offer the pup her palm which surprisingly is filled with the dog’s snout the moment she does so, Maeve’s smile grows with her warming heart. “Strange alley for you to be stuck out here on your own, would you like to walk with me until we find your home?” She whispers to the pup, a fast pace wagging tail and floppy tongue out the side of his mouth seems to be answer enough for her as she slides into the shadows to remove her cloak and mask and replace it with an oversized hoodie.

The small pup seems to be rather responsive, so she smiles as she pat’s the side of her leg to begin walking out of the alley and down the sidewalk.

Walking down this side of town didn’t make her uncomfortable in the way it made most, seemingly the only logically affordable area in Gotham. She did her best to stay away from this area as a Wayne, due to the status she drags with her… but she had her purpose to being here.

Cherry Hill’s area was filled with old historical landscapes, along Gotham’s pier and mostly decrepit and worn down. Pulling her pack of Marlboro’s, she grabs herself one before leaning against a wall outside a three-story apartment building. She cups her hands together to mimic the visual of a lighter just in case, just before flicking her thumb up to create a small flame to the tip, she takes in a deep inhale of the tobacco before extinguishing her flame and watching the entryway carefully.

Stumbling around the streets surrounding her, a few different kinds of obvious drug addicts lean and crash into each other as they try to make their way throughout the area. She takes a few more inhales of her cigarette trying to keep her eyes forward when a shuffling starts to be heard to her left.

“Those will kill you, kid.” Dr. Haywood drunkenly spits to her, while a harsh glare scans over her body knowingly. “You’re a long way from home little Wayne.”

“Nice to see you too, Sheila.” Maeve keeps her tone neutral. “We should talk.”

“About my son?” Sheila basically curses at Maeve. She feels the uncomfortable heat run down her spine at her words, finishing the last few drags of her smoke to stare at the former Doctor blankly. Miss Haywood never did like her, nor did she particularly like when Jason moved into the Manor. From Maeve’s recollection, she didn’t really think Sheila deserved Jason in the slightest, even now the former doctor stumbles on her words and trips on her feet as she walks towards her with slumpy eyes.

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t about Jason.” Maeve says curt while putting out her cigarette.

“What more could you tell me that you’re stupid, out of touch, playboy, rich kid Father didn’t tell me.” Sheila finally spits out before struggling to put her last foot forward and trips herself into Maeve, who catches her begrudgingly. Keeping her opinion to herself, she helps Jason’s horridly drunk mother towards her building. Maeve didn’t completely understand why Jason used to spend so much of his time checking in and making sure his mother was well off back then, because in her mind this clearly struggling woman never deserved his love. Seeing how difficult it was to try and get her up her own stairs, Maeve started putting the pieces together slowly. Jason clearly was the only person left who wanted to keep this woman in check, and now she was similar to Maeve herself if she was only just human dealing with grief.

She huffs while opening the door to the building, whistling for the pup behind her to stay close as she stumbles with the former Doctor’s arm slumped over her shoulder.

“Keep that mutt and yourself away from me and my home, wouldn’t want to end up dead like you pathetic rich kids allowed my son to be.” Sheila slurs.

“Jason wanted you safe, Ma’am. I’m just trying to get you in your apartment.” Maeve tells her slowly, trying to get her point across before her emotions start to swirl in her chest. She ignores the rest of the drunken rambling about blaming her and Bruce for Jason’s death, well she tries to. As each word feels like a pang of admittance in her very soul.

Once they climb down a staircase and over to the doorway marked ‘8’, Maeve softly rests Sheila against the door and aims her arm with the key at the ready towards it, the pup’s hot breath close on the back of her leg as they all stumble into the apartment.

Maeve lays her on the messy couch in the living area, seeing all the empty bottles and used syringes across the coffee table she waves her hand for the pup to wait at the door and he does. A small exhale of relief leaves her mouth as she watches Sheila melt into the cushions, and she reaches into her purse to pull out a cheque book. Slightly frustrated with the current situation, and wanting the guilt to simmer, she writes a small amount on the cheque hoping that Sheila chooses to spend it on groceries instead of drugs or booze. She knows that hope will fall on failed ground just like the rest of it, she clenches her hands a few times before dropping it on the table with the last of her Marlboro’s and heading towards the door.

“You… you promised he would… be safe.” Sheila slurs in her sleep.

Maeve more than understood her frustration, she was disappointed in herself for allowing this all to happen as well, her eyebrows push into each other as she tries her best to take a deep breath before leaving the apartment.

“With me.” She instructs the very good boy waiting patiently by the doorway and leads them out of the building. Filled with grief and regret, Maeve heads to the closest store open for a new pack of smokes before hearing the strange sound of tires slowing down and following her carefully. On instinct, she continues into the store, bringing her new friend with her as she purchases a few packs of Marlboro reds and looking out the store window to find a very good looking sleek black Rolls Royce waiting outside. Curiosity killed the cat, Selina always told her, but Maeve was no cat… she was a bat. She shakes the stress out of her shoulders and straightens her jacket, calling the pup to stay close again before leaving the store.

“You lost, Ms. Wayne?” A gentle voice peaks through the top of a slightly cracked open window, the tint of the windows making it impossible to see. “A young well-known name like yours shouldn’t be in this area of town this late at night, all on her own.” The voice begins to sound more proud now, Maeve finds the sentiment to be silly but given that none of these people could even begin to understand how much danger she really was not in, she supposed it was time to act the part. “No Sir, I know the store owners. I prefer to buy my cigarettes here.” She tells the man honestly, gesturing back to the store behind her. “I appreciate the concern, but I know my way around town safely. Thank you.” She pats the side of her leg again to call the pup as she begins to turn away. “Smart girl, give me a call in a couple years when you come of age. I’d like to have first dibs when it comes to many things Ms. Wayne.” She can hear the snarl in his voice as the pup beside her growls loudly. A quiet laugh and calling card slip out of the top of the cracked window, it floats slowly to the ground in front of her as she listens to the car start up and drive away.

“

Carmine Falcone

‘The Roman’ ‘Don Falcone’

All things Gotham

“

On the back of the business card he had a phone number, and office address.

Clever… creepy, but clever. Well played Falcone.

She looked down to the pup and knelt down to meet his protective stance. "Good boy." She softly pets under the pups chin, seemingly calming it as it sits for her and tips its head to the side. "So much for finding your home, huh bud?"

The dog barks and places one of his paws on her knee, she couldn't speak dog but she assumed this was a strange way for the pup to tell her he wants to stay, she happily allows it to follow her home.

Chapter Text

May 15^th 2002, 2:35am.

Along the outskirts of Gotham, a tree line was formed. Maeve has spent years planting and growing more and more different kinds of trees and greenery making somewhat of a thick forest. In doing so she places a bit of her energy in everything the plants, which helps her predict when something travels through the area. Leading through the trail inside it will guide you into the Wayne estate, a large piece of open land up the hill from the trees, an exquisite stone driveway leading from the gates to the loop in front of the manor. Continuing down the trail though, is the way she likes to enter the property.

The farthest west of the grounds is where the family graveyard sits, the quietest entrance.

“Think this is enough space for a pup to get his energy out?” She playfully asks the dog before gesturing to him the yard. The pup’s ears perk up and his entire behind wiggles with his tail excitedly, which makes Maeve smile. “Go on, stay in earshot.”

Watching the pup sprint so happily forward, Maeve felt a kind of warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. Not the same kind of heat spreading through her when she feels anger or even grief, but a warmth of eagerness.

She watches him lung around the yard for a short while before her gaze shifts over to the graveyard, and like it’s a magnet she begins to move towards it. Walking slowly in the shadow of the tree line, she finds a route slightly out of the security cameras vision. Scaling over the well-manicured lawn she finally comes up to two beautiful headstones, she smells the fresh flowers around Thomas and Martha’s names. It’s always rather quiet out here most of the time, but she hears the sound of a bird flying alone as her vision focus’ on Jason’s just a few feet away.

“Hey baby.” She whispers and takes a knee in front of it, feeling the now grown in grass covering the ground. “Pretty sure I made a new friend today, and before you laugh about it, no… it wasn’t Babs or your mother.” She smiled politely to the grave, still not sure how to process everything she’s lost. “Not sure how exactly I’m supposed to miss you…” She admits to the earth, placing her palm softly on the headstone in front of her. “But fuck, I feel it in every fiber of my being.”

“Shall I put on a pot of coffee, Ms. Wayne?” Alfred’s calm caring voice appears from behind her, as the sound of lashing paws through the grass start to creep up behind him as well. The pup lunges up happily towards her on the ground, holding its ground in front of her to look up with a wide eye. “How are you Alfred?” She turns slowly towards him, patting the pup on his head as she stands up with a welcoming smile.

“I’m managing, my dear.” He nods his head with a courteous smile. “Very relieved to see you.”

“Good to see you, Alfred. I hope you don’t mind-“

“Never expected you to be the one bringing home strays.” He cuts her off while leaning to let the pup sniff his hand, gently waiting for the approval wag before running his hand through his fur. “I always told Master Bruce a loyal pet would suit you.” He says proudly before standing straight again. “Come along, we shall speak over some coffee.”

She smiles in response, surprised by the feeling of home warming her heart. She takes stride beside him, patting her leg for the pup to follow them into the manor.

“Do you remember that stuffed toy you used to have before giving it to Master Richard?” He asks her, keeping his gaze straight forward.

She remembers the night at the circus, desperately trying to guide a young boy’s attention away from his parent’s dead who on the floor in front of him. A shiver snakes down her back.

“Ace.” She remembers the worn down stuffed animal fondly as she looks down to the pup. “What do you think?”

The dog barks excitedly as they walk up the few steps to the front door, and both her and Alfred stop before reaching for it. “Surely you understand once he sees you on the camera, he will abandon patrol to be back here.”

She nods agreeing with him, lifting her chin to look right into the camera on the corner of the door. “Then surely, he can give me an hour.”

Alfred gives her a knowing smile before opening the door and gesturing her in, she’s more than aware that she might not get an hour but it was worth a try anyways.

Entering the massive and beautiful oak doors, she takes in the familiar smell consuming her as she walks further in. Only a few steps though before Alfred moves to take her jacket, and a strange feeling in her chest made her feel suddenly concerned. She didn’t like that Alfred was treating her like a guest in the Manor, though she begrudgingly allows him to take her jacket off her. “How is he?” She asks Alfred in a worried tone, but instead of a response he just lets out a shallow breath. “I’ll put a pot on.” He tells her after hanging up her jacket and walking towards the kitchen. “Go sit.”

She does as she’s told and slowly walks into the sitting room, letting her eyes scan over the photos sprawled across the shelf above of the beautiful fireplace. Maeve’s hand trails along the wood as she passes them all, photos of Bruce with his parents when he was young, photos of him with Alfred throughout the years all. Her feet stop once she reaches a well-lit photo of her and Dick climbing the large maple in the front yard so many years ago, Bruce lingered in the back round of the picture, a proud smile on his face as he watches us play. A strange ache builds in her stomach once her eyes move over to the next photo, seeing an empty frame where the photo she took of Bruce watching Star Wars with Dick and Jason once stood. She takes in a shaky breath when she’s brought out of her gaze by a wet nose on her lowered hand, she looks down in almost relief at Ace, thankful for the diversion. Smiling down at the pup she moves over to one of the lavish chairs across from the fireplace, petting Ace as he sits down at her feet patiently.

Alfred walked stoically towards her with a coffee tray, laying it center between us on the table. There was a strange distance between them, figuratively that is, as Alfred sat down without looking her in the eye once. “Al?” Her tone was low and cautious.

“Hm?” His eyes blink rapidly before he finally turns to her with a deep breath. “Apologies my dear, things have just been rather quiet as of late.”

Quiet? She watched him carefully as he moved the two mugs in front of them and poured coffee into each, her eyes catching his careful hand but eventually landing on his concerned crease in his eyebrows. “Has Selina been by?” She makes sure to keep her voice slow and quiet, trying to sound as patient as she can. Ace rests his chin on her knee, eyes wide on her as she runs her hand softly over the top of his head.

“She has… tried.” Alfred whispers dejectedly, slumping back into his chair with his mug in hand.

The realization hits like a punch in the gut, it wasn’t unlike Bruce to shut out Alfred but Selina? He was shutting out any hint of reason, meaning his decisions reflect… shit.

She exhales the breath she didn’t realize was so tight in her chest, resting forward on her hand as she pushes her elbow into the table.  In a strange flip of fate, Bruce’s footsteps appear in the distance climbing the stairs from the cave. Ace lifts from his sitting position into guarding in front of her, she tries to pet him gently to calm him but once Bruce’s large figure appears in the doorway Ace’s growl echoes across the room at him.

“Ace, take it easy. He’s… important.” She tells the dog honestly without making eye contact with her father, hearing the creak in the floor she notes Bruce kneeling down hopefully in a welcoming fashion to the dog.

Once she finally gathers the gull to move her eyes towards him she’s unsurprised by his eyes staring back at her.

“We should talk.” He says calmly while petting the now calmed pup with the back of his hand, but his face resembled anything but calm.

Chapter Text

Bruce’s eyes narrowed on her as he crossed his arms tightly in front of his chest, she understood that this would be difficult but she didn’t expect him to come at her with a creased eyebrow and Batman voice. Ace trotted back to her side when the silence played loudly in the room, and Alfred kept his eyes forward throughout the exchange. The entire situation was making Maeve feel heavy, like a strange weigh on her shoulders pushing down into her chest and there was nothing she could do to mend it.

“I have no problem talking with my father, I'm not here for Batman.” She tells him quietly, keeping a gentle tone in her voice as to not offend. Her tone did not matter.

“How dare you.” His voice was terrifying to her, but she held the stiffness in her back to keep her steady in her chair.

“Master Bruce-“ Alfred vacant voice tries.

“Don't encourage her, Alfred.” Bruce spit back in an almost childish tone she couldn’t understand.

“Please don’t talk to him like that.” Maeve said in a much more cautious tone this time, locking her eyes onto him while she holds her ground to defuse his anger away from Alfred. She regains some of her patience when he reacts to her words, listening to his few deeper breaths in and out before he opens his mouth try and reset the intensity of the situation. Maeve slowly stands from her seat once he did that a few more times with no words leaving his mouth. “Alfred.” She calmly lays her hand over his hand on the table. “Could you please take Ace back outside to let some of his energy out.”

“Of course, my dear.” Alfred’s eyes suddenly regain the brightness in the whites of them as he stands and slowly steps close into her to whisper in her ear. “Please be forgiving dear, he’s still grieving you both right now.”  His words sting through her ear as she continues her stare off with her father, uncomfortable at the realization but understanding to handle things lighter than she normally would have.

She watched him carefully, noticing the large dark circles under his eyes as they watched the pup happily follow Alfred into the yard. She didn’t mind the silence between them now, she took advantage and continued to note the slight differences in his stance. Bruce’s shoulder’s slumped forward slightly for a moment before he leaned on the door frame beside him, he was trying to seem more at ease than he was. He looked thinner, in his face and the way he filled out his gear.

“You can’t stay materialized in one reality for longer than a few hours, and you decided to bring home a dog?” Bruce’s voice broke the silence with none of the harshness in his tone that once stung into her mind so aggressively. She doesn’t answer his question, not like he really expected an answer. Instead she chooses to allow the muscles in her back and chest to loosen at his lowered tone, and appreciates that like she thought… he had been using his resources to figure out what she’d been doing these past few months. Maeve fought back a grateful smile as she takes a few more moments in the silence before walking slowly toward him, taking her time to wait to take his lead down to the cave.

“Did you find what you were searching for?” Bruce’s quiet voice breaks through the silence once we start walking down the stairs, so quiet that the human ear would have had difficulty hearing it. She doesn’t answer him again, not wanting to have the conversation with him of why she wasn’t still learning the multiverses and searching for one with Jason in it. These realizations she had already gone through, not wanting him to burden the weight of knowing the answer to his question before he even bothered to answer the why for himself.

Her eyes grazed along the almost spotless surfaces across his work area, to anyone else it would seem as if nothing had even been touched in the cave. Maeve knew better, she knew he was more in routine than ever. Once her eyes left the briefing area around the computer they wandered across the cave, lingering between the display cases, her body comes to a standstill once they land on the brutalized Robin costume with a plaque reading “A Good Soldier”. A familiar knot in her chest resurfaces and she tries her best to push her emotions back down with a deep breath.

“I imagine you wouldn’t be here if you had.” His voice broke her concentration, making her turn quickly on her heel to face him with a face she couldn’t hide any longer.

“I’ve disappointed you.” She admits in a hushed tone, painfully holding back the burn in her eyes as she refrains from turning back around.

“No Mae...” His entire demeanor switched as he took a fast step to be standing in front of her, wrapping his arms comfortingly around her shoulders and pulling her in. “When I started doing this, you were right there with me. You trusted me to make the right decisions for all of us, and… I’m so sorry I let you down so severely…”

She instinctively pulled back to be able to look at him, he was blaming himself?

She narrowed her eyes at him, studying his avoidant eye contact. She pushes him to the briefing table to sit him down as she pulls a chair up to sit across the corner facing him as she too sits. Maeve cautiously places both her arms on the table, leaning forward to stay at eye level with him when she speaks. “This is not your fault.” She tells him simply, and his lungs let out a defensive huff at her words. She changes her tone and harshness in her eyes to express the gravity of her opinion. “It’s not your fault, dad. I don’t blame you, neither would Jason. This is not your fault.”

The muscles in his forehead took a new shape, as his eyes softened at her. The blue inside them more prominent now, as they looked down to her hands on the table. “Lift your sleeves.” He ordered her in a strange tone she couldn’t recognize, tipping her head slightly at his words she remained completely still otherwise. “Show me.” He seemed to demand of her, but his voice was the opposite of demanding. She tried to understand by pushing through a calmness throughout the room, reading into the way his face moved when she offered such an energy. A harsh line appeared between his eyebrows before she could catch the quick movement of his hand grabbing onto her wrist, and he grabbed on harder than she was used to. “What-“ She jumped but his grasp held her in place, as his eyes locked on her arms now he moved his other hand to push up her sleeve. Maeve felt her entire body turn into stone as she watched him make his movements, not offering a single inch of movement as his hand slid her sleeve slightly to reveal the beginning of the large burns that swerved up her forearms. His face remained harsh on her skin, she could almost feel the sting where his eyes traveled. “I don’t blame you.” She offered in a whisper, keeping her eyes on his face to understand his mindset.

“I do.” Bruce’s voice breaks through barely as his hand moves her sleeve up more but she jerks her arm back into herself. She knew once he was in this kind of internal dread, digging himself back out would be the hardest thing he’d face since losing his parents.

He is clearly unaware of all the different universes and timelines she searched to be able to find Jason, finding her search to be useless once she discovered the cost she would have to painfully pay in order for her to get him back. “Dad-“ She tries desperately to get through to him, she watches his eyes squeeze shut when she speaks which brings back the painful burning behind her eye lids. She begins to plead with him but is suddenly caught off guard by a larger presence entering the cave, as her blood boils at her instinct.

“We have company.” She tells him shortly, turning her head to face the direction of the waterway from under the sewers. Maeve feels the Kryptonian floating towards them and she clenches her hands into tight enough fists to turn her knuckles paper white, and she stands to take a step-in front of Bruce. “Mae-“ He tries to stand with her but is cut off by an aggressive hold on his shoulder keeping him sat, swirling her energy around him keeping his body locked into the chair.

“Bit past your bedtime, isn’t it farm boy?” She spits to the dark entryway.

Superman’s figure floats into existence from the darkness, giving her a look of not anger or any ill will but with pity. Somehow worse.

“You have shit timing on choosing when and when not to ease drop.” Her voice low but vicious. Clark responds with landing with two feet on the ground firmly in front of her, big mistake.

Maeve passes her energy through the floor tiles his feet remain, holding them with a kind of twine made of her hell fire. She watches with a sort of satisfaction in her eyes as he winces at the pain they cause when their hold tightens tying him not only to the ground but to the earth’s core itself, refraining him from any sort of movement without damaging the foundation of the planet. “Maeve-“ He grunts slightly, trying to hold back his struggle as best as he can, and she allows a smirk to slowly lift the right side of her lips. Confident of her hold on him, she slowly begins taking steps towards him. “Kryptonian super hearing, huh?” She taunts him. “Where the hell were you.”

“I…” Clark starts, darting his eyes between hers and Bruce’s. “I’m sorry…”

She tightens her clenched fist, yanking hard on the twine like hold and feeling them tear through his skin slightly. “Don’t depend on his forgiveness, I won’t be as understanding.” She tells him honestly, pulling his gaze back to her alone. “Don’t pity me, explain to me why you couldn’t be there just this one time.”

“Baby… the warehouse…” Bruce starts, but halts once he watches her spin towards him with her energy pouring through her fingers and dripping dark circles under her eyes. “The warehouse was made of lead, Mae…”

“Lead.” She whispers to herself, releasing the tight hold on her twine, allowing it to submerge back into the earth and away from Clark. Once he is unchained he falls down to one knee with a loud breath, and she does the same in front of him, feeling the familiar pain in her chest as she does so.

“Clark, get out of here. Now!” Bruce’s voice orders, but she only hears him though a strange fog.

Maeve releases a strange breath once she feels the gust of wind pass in front of her and back out the way it came, trying to bend and stretch her fingers out to loosen the cramp building within them. She feels his warm hand rest between her shoulder blades and lets out an unrecognizable sound, burying her face in her hands for a moment while she tries desperately to gather her emotions and stuff them down into the deepest depths.

She allows him to stay close to her like this, feeling the source of comfort he provides for her for only a few moments. Once she can feel her heartrate begin to regulate she brings her hands up to her chest gently, gripping one on top of the other as she takes another few deep breaths before allowing her eyes to finally open again and look over towards the memorabilia area of glass cases. The Sword of Sin, sister to the Sword of Salvation, lay dormant in its case, shimmering slightly at her gaze.

“I’m not one of your good soldiers…” She breaks the silence just slightly, pulling away from Bruce and beginning to stand.

“No, never you…” He starts cautiously. “When we started doing this, I thought I was helping you learn how to protect yourself if you ever needed.”

“Got a lot more than you bargained for-“

“I never would of planned you being the one to have my back when I needed it, and yet there you always were... Nothing like the robin role, but always looking out for us regardless.” He cuts her off with a soft hand on her shoulder. “Human’s make mistakes, and you are the farthest thing away from any of mine.”

She turns to him then, eyes widened and damp with tears as she watches him try to form a smile to her. A tight lift of his lips was stopped once his eyes moved to where hers were, starring straight into the sword with a twitch of his lip.

“You’re not staying.” He states, keeping his eyes locked on the sword and trying to let himself push through the emotion to study her motives. Maeve stays still as stone once again, keeping her eyes locked onto him watching his brain turn over different possibilities, noticing them almost play out in his iris’ as he tries to put together the pieces.

A few more moments of silence swiftly turn into a few more moments of understanding, finally blinking his eyes rapidly before looking back down to her calmly.

“Could you sleep on it, make that decision tomorrow?” He asks her with a different tone of voice, one she couldn’t point out in her memory. She wants to answer him this time, but she feels strangely comfortable, unsure why in her mind she feels the pull of the home welcoming her finally. She loosens the muscles in her back at the feeling, following his hand guiding her back to the table while he sits her down before walking a few more steps to the computer.

He pulls up the Justice League database where he had been monitoring her energy throughout the different universes they had recorded, lighting up all the tiny little red dots across of string of timelines. He turns to lean on the desk and cross his arms in front of him, keeping his eyes gentle on her in a plea for answers. She finally feels the tears fall down her cheeks as her mind pushes through the sites she’d seen throughout the different realities.

Maeve sees plenty of worlds with Jason living safely among them, a few of them even including herself with him. Instantly she’s reminded of the price her heart cannot pay, showing her the result of most of the timelines being the warehouse… and seeing Bruce lay motionless and burned with his cowl destroyed on the ground next to him with no light in his eyes.

She watches him pull a soft fluffy large blanket from one of the drawers under the computer, and pass it to her patiently. She gratefully takes it, wrapping herself immediately before taking a few calming breaths to herself.

“In death there are no accidents, no coincidences, no mishaps and no escapes.” She whispers to him in defeat. “There’s always a price.”

Chapter Text

“Like watching sand pass through an hourglass, desperately holding onto each grain as they slip away from you.”

Stumbling through the darkness, trying her best to feel her way through the vast emptiness surrounding her. Maeve centers herself, pushing her energy to exude from her to feel out her location.

She spends too long in the still silence, her entire being on edge as she searches harder only to find the slight sound of crackling in the distance. Instinctively her body move towards it, as she feels her mind fight it just barely. Not nearly enough to stop her steps forward.

Slowly as her body takes the individual steps the crackling turns louder, beginning to swirl into the air around her in a way she couldn’t understand.

Once the crackling gets close enough, she realizes the flame that omits it. Swirling so viciously around her that looking past it only shows more fire. A mix of red and blue flames consuming her surroundings, narrowly avoiding her form as she watches them dance around her.

“Where are you.” She hears a familiar voice echoing around her.

“Why aren’t you stopping it? It hurts, Maeve.” The words begin to bounce inside her skull, echoing throughout her as her gaze wanders around the flame.

 “You could save me.”

She felt the burn now, thrashing through her bloodstream as she tried with all her will to focus on the voice. Suddenly it was as if time stood still, the flame freezing in a windy shape creating a path forward to a strange light.

“This is your fault.” Jason’s broken voice finally breaking through the fog of smoke still lingering just above her.

She looks at him pained, his skin burning slowly, eyes wide and desperately searching around the fog. She drops to her knee’s once she steps close enough to him, holding her breath and reaching her hand out to try and stop the skin from burning but as she reaches closer the blood begins to spew from where it hovered over him.

Jason’s gasp of pain stabbed into her, like her veins somehow turned into the thorns of roses.

“You’re a curse.” He whispered as his head dropped forward lifelessly.

She felt the sweat dripping down her when she woke up, jerking her body into a sitting position while she painfully gasps for air while grabbing at her chest. When she finally gained the courage to open her eyes they sunk into small, deep brown wide ones looking back at her.

Ace sits closely in front of her with his head cautiously low, watching her carefully with a tip of his head when her eyes opened fully. She clearly worried him, clearly not sleeping soundly in her room. The pup lets out a quiet noise before slowly crawling onto her lap to nuzzle his face into her chest, and she feels the tightness lessen. Once her breathing regulates she wraps her arms softly around Ace’s body, petting under his ears in thanks for a long while.

She was lucky to find such a good boy she supposed, but she couldn’t stop the frustration sting of guilt linger inside her at Jason’s words echoing off her mind. She drops her head softly on his, breathing in his fur as if it were a lifeline. His wet nose rubbed into her hand, intuitive as well then.

She sits up against her bedframe, flicking her hand to light one of the side tables lamps. She breaths deeply while running her fingers through her hair, taking in her very plain bedroom dimly lit in front of her. It never seemed to change much over the years, only sometimes adding new books to her shelf or placing new photos into her album on the shelf above that. Alfred had noticed pretty early on to her new life here that she liked grey scale, so he matched the colour scheme accordingly. She always loved the morality behind different shades of grey, and even appreciated the morally grey characters in her books. Maeve found it fitting, that she too was slightly morally grey.

Painfully aware of the fact that she was never going to feel the peace of sleep anytime soon, she tries to lean to move her legs over the edge of the bed. Ace jumps down to stand in front of her once more, seeming to study where her movement brings her, so she pats him on the head softly before moving slowly out of her room with him right at her feet.

Across the hall from her room was Dick’s, who apparently picked the worst time to go with the Titans to Tamaran. She knew he probably would keep that room as empty as it was now, but she still missed being able to just call him whenever something is wrong. She could really use one of their late night walks right about now.

A few more steps down the hall and she was standing perfectly still in front of Jason’s room, like a magnet her hand rested on the wood trim around it and her entire body burned in reaction. She hated feeling the sting in her eyes, the pressure building and pushing through her lashes and dripping slowly down her face did nothing but push her anger above it.  Burying down her guilt and pain she takes a few deep breaths before allowing her palm to slowly move over the frame and push softly into the door, it opens slowly with a low creak. The smell of him swirls around her once the door opened, even now months later it was clear how untouched and kept it was. She couldn’t gather the will to enter though, but her eyes wandered over the darkest corners for him purely out of routine.

Quiet footsteps break her from her searching, jerking her head to aim in on the noise.

“So sorry dear…” Alfred whispered from down the hallway, cautiously walking closer. She response to him with a soft smile, lighting one of the bulbs in the hall between them.

“Did I wake you?” She asks before he can get to her.

“No, no sweetheart.” He tells her honestly, stopping beside her in the doorway. “Unfortunately, your father was the one who awoke. I just finally convinced him to lay back down for a bit. You’re welcome.” A playful wink to her before turning to face the room with her, letting out a quiet sigh. “Take a seat, I’d like to show you something.”

She takes a moment to watch Alfred enter the room effortlessly, she envy’s the calm he always portrays in what seems so dramatic for her. She follows after him once he turns on the light, sitting on the edge of the bed pretending like it has no meaning whatsoever. Moving her hands to rest on her lap, she keeps her eyes on them while Alfred maneuvers somewhere to her right. Ace’s nose shimmies into her hands as he sits beside her legs, resting his chin on her knee. “A late Christmas present, unfortunately…” Alfred’s gentle voice came closer, moving a small trunk to sit in front of her. “Goodnight, my dear.” He pats his thigh at Ace, and the pup gives one more look up at her for approval. She nods to him, scratching under his chin before watching them walk out of the room.

Looking down at the small trunk, a rust tiny latch in the front held it closed, a paper lay above it.

‘

You can’t keep your shelves filled with Sherlock and Tolkien books forever -Jay

Don’t be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life. You don’t have to live forever, you just have to live.

‘

She holds the note to her chest, inhaling the smell of ink and his lingering smell left behind on it. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before kneeling on the floor and opening the trunk in front of her. Inside laid a few books, Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion, and a worn down paperback version of Tuck Everlasting. Along the side of the trunk were two wrapped personalized throwing knives she had pointed out on one of their last dates when they walked downtown together stopping along the windows of shops. She hadn’t even noticed him paying attention then, in Maeve’s mind he was off looking at the switch bade in the corner. She shakes her head back to the present, moving her hands over the two holsters inside the trunk for the knives, one to click onto her belt, and the other a calf placement. She decides to put them in their spots, twirling the blades in her hands before sheathing them both in their correct spot. Her hand then moves over to the worn-out book, sliding her fingers down the spine to feel the letters along it. A strange feeling flooded her chest as she opened the cover softly not to strain it anymore.

Tuck Everlasting

By Natalie Babbitt

‘I would of happily waited’ with a small pointed heart scribbled along the bottom of the title page. Her presses the book gently into her chest with the familiar sting behind her eyelids pushing through once again, oh poor Jason… if you only knew.

Chapter Text

May 16^th 2002, 1:49 am.

Ripping herself away from her emotions felt surreal, trying to push down her guilt into a purpose. Maeve wanted to take her anger out of that vile clown, knowing she would never be forgiven if she killed him she had already committed to herself to torment him as long as his heart was beating. Her fists clench at the idea of him now being stuck in a coma for however long, though maybe there was things she could learn even in his state within the fragile mortal mind.

Frustration and vigor crashing inside her core, she needed something more physical. The anger she felt towards everything was just too overwhelming for her to try and logically distribute, Maeve curses herself internally for materializing herself back home like this, knowing she wasn’t ready. The lack of routine and emptiness of her chest did not react well to each other, pushing up like a bile in her throat. She pushed herself off the floor and down the hallway quickly, moving down the stairs lightly on her toes to not make any noise, rushing to the cave.

A strange hum in the damp air, soft, but not soothing. To Maeve it felt more like a calling, or something trying to grab her attention. She slowed her step into the main computer area, allowing her eyes to look over the entirety of the cave. A few deep breaths pass before she decides to close her eyes and funnel all of her concentration into the very depths of her mind, searching for something to set her on track.

“What do I do?” She whispers desperately to herself, her eyes flicking under her lids to swirl through all the images in her mind. The quickness in their movement made her motion sick, but she pushed through to try and piece together any thread of sense in it all when suddenly… green swirled into it aggressively pushing the image of a strange watery substance bubbling when it continued to thrash around violently.

Lazarus water… with an odd feeling of corruption.

Maeve’s eye opened wide in understanding, Ra’s Al Ghul must have found out how to tamper with his Lazarus pit for himself. All these months and none of the pits have been active, what could have happened more recently in order for him to climb into the pit he knew was weakening every time his old form consumed it. She sways her body towards the desk on the other side of the platform, hovering her hand over an old styled globe in the mess of things gathered there.

“Where?” She whispers to the object, allowing her energy to seep into the tiny sphere. It begins to spin quickly under her hand, coming to a halt over The Himalayas. “Fuck…”

“Language.” Bruce’s voice shakes her back to her body, not needing to spin to see him but letting out a sigh anyways.

“You’re late for patrol.”  She tells him, keeping her eyes on the globe and trying to plan the best path up the mountains.

“I get the nightmares too, you know…” Bruce lets out in a low sigh, finally she breaks eye contact with the object and harshly stares at him, slightly embarrassed at his recognition of her earlier yelling that woke him. “In this moment, you think your mission is yours and yours alone…”

“Bruce…”

“You’re used to the shadows, completing your missions in isolation…” He continues quietly. “Hidden and shielded away from anything else, like you have to carry this guilt alone. I just-“

“Please stop.” She begs him faintly, pushing down harder on the rock in her chest building at his words.

“Let me help you…” He reaches out his hand and looks at her with eyes she hadn’t seen before, Maeve wondered if he was trying to burn her with them as much as he was. She takes a deep breath before finally turning to face him, letting her focus instead rekindle the sound of the calling humming. Opening and closing her right hand to try and feel out to whatever energy was interacting with her. “I’m not sure you can…”

The Sword of Sin shakes within its glass display case, turning both of their heads toward it. She swiftly passes him and steps closer to it, stopping in front of the case and hovering her hand over it to focus on the humming. Maeve hears Bruce murmuring behind her but continues to try and find the intention of the humming, listening closely as she realizes it sounds like the hum you hear when fire crackles from far away. “Burning?” She asks it softly, listening to it thrash in her mind now. Instinctively she takes a step back from it, pulling her hand back once she feels the heat begin to enter her palm. Bruce’s footsteps rush towards her and as soon as she sees his arm move in her direction she grabs it, stepping in front of him cautiously. “Is something happening?” His voice remained quiet but she still turned to face him as she rolls her eyes. His eyes move from the case to her, narrowing, waiting for her to elaborate which she’s not very used to doing for him. “I think it’s… trying to talk to me?” She tells him with a slight lift in her tone, facing back to the sword.

“Talk…” He repeats in a breathy tone. “Talia used its twin on me once, felt like the lasso of truth.”

“And this one?”

“I wish I could tell you more.” He responds to her honestly. “Ra’s fought with some old cult, I fought with Ra’s, it’s been there since you were just a little girl.”

“Maybe Al Ghul’s aren’t as crazy as we thought for talking to their weapons…”

“I’m not sure I’m in the best mindset at the moment to accept that.” He tries to joke, but the burning in her right palm is burning stronger now. “Hold on, Ra’s… is that why you aren’t staying?”

And like a chemical bond, the sword crashes through its glass case spinning in its spot to perfectly link the handle into her palm with a flick of her wrist. A few pained stings of electric pokes into her palm, she twirls it once in her hand testing the grip before lowering it to face Bruce.

“I didn’t-“

“No, it came to you.” He interrupts her, carefully hovering his hand over hers on the handle. “You said it burns?”

“I said burning, it sounds like it’s burning… it doesn’t hurt, but it feels molded to my hand.” She slowly moves her thumb to test the little sparks in her fingertips. “Feels like… Like static?”

His eyes don’t move from her hand, narrowing tight and using both his hands to try and understand. “You said… like Diana’s lasso?”

“I meant the pain, its more mental…” His voice sounded… strange.

“Looks like you get your wish of telling me more…”

“I don’t-“ His voice cracks slightly, and he stops to clear his throat and take a step back, eyes daggering like she just gained an extra limb. “I know they are not the same, Salvation and Sin aren’t meant to actually be twins… more like opposites that complement each other.”

She ponders on the information… Sword of Sin, meant to do what exactly? The sizzling sound intensifies in that moment, not really speaking but instead distant whispers flaring with the flame. Just then the sword ignites in a flame and she twists her wrist testing the sound as it wisps through the air in front of her.

“Hell fire…” Bruce’s voice echoed behind her, unsure. She turns to him with her eyes wide, but she only sees him pouting his bottom lip while nodding his head. “I guess that could work…”

“Could work? Are you seeing this?” She gasps at him, testing the flame with her free hand now, hovering above it carefully to see if she was only imagining it. Sudden swirl through her forearm and the starts to extinguish around her touch, the light vanishing from the blade leaving the somewhat normal looking weapon. “Please tell me you saw that part.”

“I did.” Bruce’s head tips in question. “Interesting.”

“Come with me.” She quickly spits out at him, louder than she would have preferred. His eyes finally lift to her then, softer now with no wrinkle between his eyebrows. He sighs lightly before turning towards the cluttered table, letting his hand slow when it passes the globe then stopping in front of a red leather, cross body scabbard.

“Ra’s had nothing to do with Jason’s death.”

“Ra’s kept us away from stopping Jason from dying.” She accentuates.

“That’s not justice, Jason’s blood is not on his hands.”

“Then look me in the eye and say it again confidently.” She feels her nerves stand on end, hearing zero conviction in his voice.

“The man who killed him, fell into a coma… after being cleared by doctors just hours earlier.” He didn’t turn to look at her, instead he seemed to be looking over the sheath.

“I-“

“Don’t. You just need to know that I know. Am I clear?” His voice turned into his Batman voice, stern and low. “Crystal.” She responds faster than she expected, but keeping herself still with the sword still in hand facing him. Bruce robotically grabs the sheath and drops it into her free hand. “Do what you need to do, but you come home do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” She lowers her chin to hide her sarcasm, avoiding his eyes now.

“I mean it, Mae.” His voice still stern, but softer in tone.

“Copy.” Sliding the sword into its leather, she lays the cross-body strap and swings the sword to rest on her back, her eyes slowly moving over to her cloak sitting over on the briefing area. Bruce walks away from her then, leaving a cold breeze as his departure sets in for her.

Looking back over to her dark cloak, she knows not to bring it. She needs to do this as Maeve, not a bat. A strain in her eyebrow as she lets go of the comfort it brings her, pushing past her emotional safety as she takes a long deep breath, then… materializing out of the cave.

Chapter Text

May 16^th, 2002

Sunrise.

Landing with two solid feet on the ground at the foot of the mountain, Maeve’s eyes wander over the Everest path and listen to the silence hover over it. This is not the most idea time of year for climbers, the sun starting to bare down its spring heat onto the tops of the peaks which causes plenty of avalanches and other complicating circumstances to their path. The path to the League of Assassin’s temple is a similar trek, only big differences is there not being any Sherpa’s leading the ways or paths to guide over the mountain. She doesn’t need a path, or any help crossing over dangerous parts of the mountains, she has advantages other do not.

So, she sets on her way.

May 17^th, 2002

Midday

Calm, the lower parts of the mountain remain quiet with only the sound of the dripping snow surrounding her as she walks. It’s not too cold yet, most of the winds will be blocked until she starts being higher than the rock and trees. Maeve did find a nice stick to walk with though once she starts climbing the steeper areas, the echoing silence brings her a strange sense of peace.

May 18^th, 2002

Sunset

She holds a better view over the Fast track expedition trail now, watching the sun disappear behind the mountain as the light dims around her. Using the stinging breeze to remind her of the grueling confrontation, this won’t be an easy trek, but she needs it to be worth it.

May 19^th, 2002

Just before sunset

The air is thinner up here, and much more cold. As she watches the sun start to retreat from her view she decides it’s a good time to find a safe place to rest.

Looking past a few trees she sees a small opening in the rock of the mountain, she uses her walking stick to get up to it before the light disappears, and drops the stick at the entryway.

Reaching out to grab a few of the frail branches from a treetop just outside the opening, she piles it into a small area and ignites her fingertip underneath. Feeling the warmth from the flame and the echoing crackle bounce on the rock around her she decides to lean back and unsheathe her sword, watching the light reflect off the blade, she lays it horizontally in front of her on the ground.

The fire is such a relaxing sound; she allows herself to start falling into a deep meditation. She tries to listen to the undertones provided… like it’s a song.

May 20^th, 2002

Sunset

The air is foggier at this altitude of the mountain; she feels the wind chill spread down her back as she tunnels her vision on the last leg of the path.

May 21^st, 2002

Midday

Maeve admires the cloudy air around her, lifting her hand often to allow the damp feeling between her fingers to re calibrate her system. She looks down through the fog at the level land below, taking a mental note of this spot on the path for another time. The view really was beautiful.

May 22^nd, 2002

Sunset

Once the temple started to become visible, she moved towards the tree line. Dim lights in the vacant courtyard as she begins to use the shadows to maneuver around the building, keeping a distance still in the trees she moves in silence trying to take in the number of people surveying their patrol areas. 4 in the front at the entrance from the trail, and 3 on each west and east side of the building.  The back has only one entrance, the farthest wall of the temple leading up to the cliff line, the opening would require a bungee about 6 meters down from the ledge. This way was most likely Talia’s preferred path, quiet and dark with no guard necessary.

A strange feeling of someone close by grabs her attention, so she floats up to a high point of the trees. Getting her footing she perches on a sturdy branch, delicately placing her weight down as to not disturb the leaves.

The noise came from a higher window ledge, where Talia stood with a frustrated look. If the feel of corruption was anything to go by, she probably wasn’t impressed with her father’s latest results with the pit. Maeve understood Talia’s admiration for her father, she felt it familiar to how grateful she felt for Bruce, and even Alfred. Even if she had a harder time getting along with Talia, she understood the exhaustion.

Something must of gotten her attention, because a quick turn of her head sent her backwards and out of sight in the window.

Maeve waits in a few moments of silence before climbing through the trees at a cautious slow rate, latching onto the branches that seemed sturdy and gently placing her weight down each time as she slowly makes her way around the temple.

May 23^rd, 2002

Dawn

Trying to take out each person one by one would be pointless, Ra’s assassins may obey but Maeve doesn’t hold ill will against them for it. She knows how well their trained, she’s done this training, a massive amount of energy would be wasted on them when in all logic she only wanted Ra’s. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to fight him, she just needed answers.

She watched the action in the courtyard, few people walk through the beautiful garden apparently, only one passing by in the last two hours.

Waiting patiently, watching the sun rise up to light up the entire top of the mountain. The temple almost hiding in shadow of the bright morning rays, as Ra’s and two of his other men trail behind him through the courtyard.

Hopping down from the branch and slowly taking a few cautious steps out of the tree line, she stands up straight with her hands to the sides watching them approach.

Surprisingly, once eye contact was made, Ra’s gestures for the two men to stay put while he also slowly takes a few steps forward. Maeve watches him closely but does not move in her step, if she draws her sword now the two other men will lunge and waste her time.

“You do not need to be a ghost in the shadows here, little bat.” He tells her whimsically. “You may be a long way from home but you are always welcome here.”

Maeve slightly moves to take one step, but is halted by one of the men in the background copying her step while pulling his sword forward. Once she places her weight evening between her feet, Ra’s rolls his eyes and turns his back to her, silently facing the two men. She hates how difficult the masks and coverings make reading their reactions, but body language is just as big a tell. The man with his sword sheathed never broke his eyes from her, even when Ra’s moved his hand for them to leave he stayed in his stance. Maeve lifts her hand quickly to rest her hand on the handle of her sword, shifting her weight and bending her knee’s in preparation.

“There is no need, little one.” He points to her, keeping his eyes on the man.

Maeve holds still while a gust of Lazarus stenches the air, and the man lowers his arm slowly.

“There. Now walk with me.” Ra’s voice was solemn now, turning to her and stepping slowly while his eyes stuck to her hand on her sword, and she lowers it… turning to walk by his side into the forest trail with his men lingering a few feet behind them. She folds her hands together in front of her and listens to the wind between the tree's, allowing her senses to follow each heartbeat around her just incase.

Chapter Text

“My condolences, you have suffered a great loss.” Ra’s tells her as he guides them to a bench in the center of the garden.

“Don’t preach to me, Ra’s. I remember your stories about your wife.” She reminds him.

“Does your dear detective know you’re here?”

Maeve sits on the bench folding her hands over each other on her lap, she narrows her eyes at him instead of responding.

“I see.” His voice was oddly calm, and he sat on the other side of the bench leaving some space between them, turning his body subtly towards her. “I supposed I should have expected blame from one of you. I admit, I’m disappointed that it’s you.”

She allows her eyes to loosen slightly, still watching him patiently. “Bruce doesn’t know you hired the clown.”

Ra’s eye’s narrow as he turns to her slowly, looking her once over. “You shouldn’t know that either…”

“Then, I really shouldn’t know how your last Lazarus bath made that pit so corrupted I could feel it from Gotham.” She tells him honestly, leaning back on the bench with some of her confidence back. Ra’s back somehow gets taller as he remains completely still, staring at her with a curious eye. “If I figured it out, it’s only a matter of time before Bruce does. And he won’t come here with respect like I did.”

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t.” He ponders at her, finally moving his eyes from hers to where her sword lay on her back. Maeve raises a hand to wave his concern away. “As long as your guys keep their swords away from me, I wouldn’t dare.”

“I would never allow such madness.”

“Debatable.” She scoffs quietly at him, turning her gaze to the beautiful view off the top of the mountain. “You thought the clown would benefit you? Out of all people I expected more from…”

“You must try to understand, child… I didn’t mean-“

“I know you weren’t trying to get Jason killed, but in all actuality… You hired his killer.” She speaks less welcoming now, allowing her seriousness in tone to flow out from her lips. “You might be disappointed in me for blaming you, but I’m disappointed in you for being so rash in your decisions. All for what? You only tainted your Lazarus Pit as a result anyways.”

“I wish I could explain.” Ra’s kept his voice low, disengaged. “I am truly sorry for the pain I’ve caused you especially.”

“I don’t want your apologies, I’m here to warn you.” She speaks honestly. “Stay away from my father, and when he figures out your little connection to this, you stay further away. If I hear you have laid a finger in his direction-“

“I understand, and you have my word… the detective will not be harmed by me or assassins.” Ra’s voice remains quiet, his tone displaying a hint of pity. Maeve nods to him while keeping her eyes away from his, rubbing the sweat from her palms onto her thighs before beginning to stand up. With a deep breath and a single step from the bench, one of the masked men steps forward sheathing his sword eagerly her way… so she reacts just as quickly by pulling her own sword in defense, the two blades scraping into each other with a high-pitched slash noise echoing in her head.

Maeve understands her size difference in these kinds of situations, turning her body to get her weight low and even as she gets her leverage under her opposing sword and throw her arms in a half circle and step on the man’s sword blade once hers smashes it into the ground.

Using her other foot and keeping her balance steady, she kicks the man’s shoulder to throw him back from his weapon, once he falls back she whips her head turning viciously towards Ra’s. The stench of Lazarus filling the air around them, aggravating her senses.

“Enough.” His voice echoes across the garden, making the man quickly drop to one knee in front of her as he releases his hold on his sword. Ra’s slowly steps towards her, eyes locked onto her sword. “Intriguing.”

Maeve flips her sword to keep her blade at an angle in front of her while taking a step back from the now two men in front of her and Ra’s to her side. “It chose you…” Ra’s whispers to himself, and she keeps her eyes sturdy on him, sliding her free hand just over the blade slowly as she ignites the sword at her touch. “If you don’t get these men the fuck away from me, I’ll show you hells favorite demon.” She speaks with the tone of substance, the crease between her eyebrows stiffening.

Ra’s throws his arm down at the men, ‘altanhi’ and spitting other Arabic curses in their direction loudly.

The other man drops his weapons and grabs the one if front of Maeve, wrapping his arms around the other and practically dragging him away with him.

She looks at Ra’s with a raised eyebrow, it wasn’t like his assassins to lash out like this, and she wondered how his mind handled the disobedience.

“Apologies.” He tries.

“I don’t want your damned apologies.” She shuts him down. “You no longer have anything of use to me, you know what I came here for.”

Ra’s turns quickly to face her, eyes filled with conviction. “My Lazarus cannot return the dead, only heal the damaged.”

“I assume whatever you found in Bane’s venom altered that fact, slightly.”

“How did you-“ Ra’s voice was cut off by a strange sound in a gust of wind behind them, a strange rumble from beyond the trees. Maeve focus’ her ears into the rumble, hearing the pull of a twine string going taut, a boy pulling its arrow back.

“Get down.” She whispers to Ra’s, and he does. Just in time for the bow releasing the sound of the force behind it, and the whistle of the arrow flying forward towards her. She raises her blade accordingly and slices through the arrow as it passes by her, two pieces falling on either side of the tree Ra’s had moved behind.

She checks him once over before turning towards the constant rumble still behind the trees, narrowing her view to the direction the rumble omits from. A large grey helicopter floats behind a foggy tree line, and flies higher once her eyes land on it.

“Who else have you pissed off lately?” She asks while taking a step in front of him, facing him towards the front entryway of the temple across the courtyard. Ra’s doesn’t respond to her, gripping on to where her harness sits on her back and slowly and cautiously walking them back to the temple while yelling orders out in Arabic.

Listening to the footsteps trail around her, Maeve watches Ra’s assassins crawl up the stone walls surrounding the courtyard, while the rest of the assassins gathered around them close. She watches one of them step in front of her with their sword drawn and gesturing for more to join him, Ra’s steps beside her grabbing her arm and bringing her inside with the circle of men surrounding her.

“That was too good a shot for some random archer, did you piss off Oliver?” She asks him as the doors quickly come into her view. Ra’s ignores her again, spitting in Arabic once again too quickly for her to try and pick up on, turning on her heal and facing him she crosses her arms in defiance. “Al Ghul… answers please.” She feels one of the men’s hands grip hard around her bicep, and Maeve flinches at the closeness.

“This is not your fight.” Ra’s orders.

“A little late for that, don’t you think?”

“You refused my offer, you are not one of my assassins.” Ra’s reminds her.

“I’m already here Ra’s. If you’re under attack and I just stood by and watched my father might finally disown me.” She thrashes her arm out of the man’s grasp, narrowing her eyes onto his mask intensely.

“Master!” Ubu’s voice echoes down the hallways.

“Ubu, take the little bat safely back down the mountain.” Ra’s instructs the large plump man.

“Absolutely not.” Maeve scoffs, stomping forward towards the open doorway as the man who had a tight grip on her arm follows swiftly behind her. Ra’s screams orders incoherently to his other men, seemingly unbothered by the one following her, so she assumed they had orders to keep her in check as well.

She steps out from the doorway letting her eyes wander over the courtyard, if Oli was the one in the helicopter… he would already be bordering the walls, counting the archers up on the stone surrounding the courtyard, so she sheaths her sword back into the leather on her back.

“Queen?” She calls out to the vast mountain peak, she lifts a hand to the lead archer on the wall to hold fire and he calls to his men. They all slowly lower their bows and separate the arrows from aim, and she nods gratefully. “Talk to me, Oli…”

Oliver steps out from the tree line, his eyes unimpressed and an angry crease between his brows, the man next to her tries to step forward but she flicks her hand down aggressively at him. His sword lowers and he takes an individual step behind her.

“Nyssa isn’t here, not that I’ve seen anyways.” She tells him.

“You think he’d tell you if she was?” Oliver’s voice was angry, and distant. Maeve tips her head in confusion to him, unsure how to approach the current situation she finds herself stressed at the impasse.

“Maybe not, but I do know that Ra’s doesn’t keep two daughters around at the same time…” She tells him with a snarky tone, remembering Talia and Nyssa’s strained relationship with their father. The man behind her takes a step in closer to her, allowing his arm to brush against the back of hers in warning, she turns and see’s Ra’s with a line of his assassins filling the doorway, weapons drawn but not aimed. “Where is she?” She asks Ra’s from a distance, but his eyes fall to the ground as his head moves side to side, never a good sign. Maeve feels a sigh of disappointment escape her lips and she turns to the man close to her. “Go back to your master, I do not need protection from this man.” She starts walking towards Oliver, but the man’s hand reaches quickly for hers and she raises an eyebrow in question. “I’m alright.” She tells him honestly, not ripping her hand away immediately so he can gather himself and head back inside the temple. Ra’s voice echoes in the courtyard once again in Arabic, calling the man back to him and she turns to watch him leave, surprised by his defiance.

“I will reiterate.” His voice begins, stoic. “My temple will always welcome you.”

She nods solemnly to him, before slowly turning away towards Oliver. Once she steps close, she sees the same grief in his eyes that she imagines in her own. If Nyssa was gone, just like Jason, they both needed to step away from this temple.

The Lazarus is too tempting, calling to their grief, echoing the murmurs of those lost. Offering paradise in their veins, and the return of their lost, at a cost. There is always a cost.

“This pit is tainted, corrupted.” She tells Oliver honestly. “Regardless, Nys would hate you for letting the only thing she’s ever run from inside her body… don’t fight for this Oli.”

His breath catches, and his eyes finally break from the league of men behind her. She runs her hand up and down his arm comfortingly, turning him away from the courtyard and back into the tree line. Maeve wishes she can say more to help sooth his grief, but she feels it too deeply herself to be able to escape it. At least for now they don’t need to feel it alone, and she can at the very minimum save him from a blood bath of taking his anger out on Ra’s and his assassins.

She can at least get him home, safe. Where he won't be left alone, or ignored. 

Maeve allows her energy to seep into him, soothing his nerves and adjusting his demeanor until she can get him back into the heli. She doesn't take the grief, she couldn't even if she tried... but she can manipulate it to make it feel less in the forefront. Less debilitating, less consuming, more manageable. Just for now, she allows the same inside herself. 

Chapter Text

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was always just red.”

-Kait Rokowski

June 1^st, 2002

Midnight, Gotham city clock tower.

Maeve just wanted to feel comfortable in her own city again, wanted to feel the connection to it she used to. Desperately craving the peace she used to feel protecting the people, putting the work in to make Gotham feel less empty. She lights a cigarette, huffing it desperately.

Leaning against the large gargoyle as she looks down at the darkened street, letting her eyes flutter with the street lamps. A strange silence holds the wind at ease up here, muffling any of rumbles of moving cars, or people talking. Normally once the calmness started to settle within her up here, she would grapple down to lower rooftops and continue patrol… the sting in her chest makes her wonder if she’ll ever welcome to normality back into her psyche.

A unsettling noise of movement behind her on the ledge snaps her mind into alert, lifting her one leg back over the edge to spin towards the movement swiftly. A large dark silhouette of a man stands across from her on the rooftop, standing just inside the shadows enough to not be clearly seen, but in the light enough to make his stature seen. This slightly confuses Maeve, not understanding the threat at hand makes her uneasy, so she slowly raises her hand to her sword handle behind her head. When she pauses there for a moment, grip tight, she watches the figure for a reaction… it gives her none. Still as stone with his hooded long coverings blowing in the light breeze, she raises an eyebrow impatiently.

“Shouldn’t sneak up on a lady like that.” She speaks loud enough for her voice to only travel to him, still keeping her hand on her handle and studying his responses to her words. His stone stature tensing slightly at his shoulders once she speaks, she assesses no negative intensions towards her when she allows energy to seep around them, but once she feels the stench of the corrupted Lazarus she pulls all of it back to her quickly. Her energy doesn’t mix well with the pits magic, and the last thing she wants to do is damage whatever the man was trying to heal before it travels fully throughout him. “Did Ra’s send you?”

He doesn’t respond to her, and they stand for a long quiet moment.

She lowers her hand from her sword, slowly standing up straight as she watches his shoulders finally lower. Maeve searches for his face to try and study him that way, but his hood covers any defining features. Only the bloodshot whites of his eyes showing through the darkness, she notices he isn’t looking directly at her… more like the ground in front of her.

“You can tell your master I handled Mr. Queen’s concerns, if that’s why he’s sent you.” Speaking in a calmer tone now, she cautiously takes a step forward. Before she can take another though, loud echoing gunshots from below crack through the calm between them.

The two of them quickly move towards the ledge closest to the sound, eyes searching rapidly trying to pinpoint where the shots came from. His gloved hand points to her right just passed the neighboring building, she climbs a few of the bricks along the back of the massive clock to get a better view and sees a large caped figure still while a tall think one stands before it.

Maeve pulls her baggy sweater hoodie over her head pulling the drawstrings before she reaches for her grapple, shooting above them and swinging herself to land on the darkened fire escape along the building.

“-for without fear, even you would have nothing.” She recognizes the thin man now, its Crane… Pointing his gun directly at Batman’s still kneeled body. “Even now, I see the panic in your eyes.”

Batman’s head raises only slightly, the anger inside her builds at his guttural sound he makes through his teeth at Scarecrow. She loosens and moves her head back slightly, so she can start silently climbing down the metal bars of the railings of the stairs.

“Even the big bat Batman, has his own trepidations. Oh how I only wish I could see-“ Cranes mocking is cut short by the back of her leg as she crashes down as she grips onto him with a fierce leg lariat.

“You talk too much.”

Once he hits the ground she quickly moves off of him to spin on one knee to cover Bruce… but Crane turns quicker with his gun.

As she looks down the chamber, she sees Crane’s eyes try to focus on her, pulling back on the trigger. Maeve allows a slight smirk to lift the side of her lip as she sees the safety still on, and leans her forehead into the gun just before he pulls the trigger all the way back with a single click.

Maeve moves to disarm him, pulling the gun into her hands and releasing the safety before pointing it right back at him. He was going to shoot Bruce, point blank. She was going to have to walk into this alley and find his body spread out across the pavement, blood dripping, lifeless. She pistol whips him across the temple, using the bottom of her foot to push him back into the dumpster. Before she lowers the gun she can feel a rush behind her, so she ducks out of the way and slips to the side. Bruce’s figure approaches her faster, a growl pushing toward her as she dodges another throw of his arm. “Oye!” She gives him in a stern tone as she continues to dodge his hits, she can move quicker than him because of the size difference, but his hits are a different story. She tucks and rolls away gaining some distance.

“No… you’re not her…” His voice sounded exhausted, each word falling off gasps of breath.

“B…” She tries but he lunges at her again, this time she sees the strange white clouding of his eyes. She slides between his legs before standing to pull her hood back. “It’s me!” She pleas loudly, still having to maneuver around his powerful swings.

“I watched him kill you!” He spits at her once he finally gets a hold of one of her arms, throwing her to the brick wall behind her. Maeve throws up her legs in defense, pushing back against his chest once he gets close enough as she slides down the wall trying to shake the pain from the contact her head made. Bruce lets out an agonizing noise before throwing his fist into the ground, and though she feels the dizziness fade she still struggles to crawl towards him. “I’m here, it’s me… I’m okay.” She tells him desperately, keeping a still voice as she slowly crawls closer.

“M- mother… Please…” He chokes.

Fuck. The familiar burn behind her eyelids pushes forward as she stops to look at him and sees his hand reaching for hers, when she accepts it he pulls her in close.

Maeve wraps her arms around his shoulders, typing in their location to her communicator on her wrist to bring the bat mobile to them. Once she’s done she rubs his back while she looks up to the roof above, and somehow like she knew… the cloaked figure from the clock tower stands tall on the ledge, looking down at her.

“Please… don’t leave me again…” Bruce’s voice cuts through her train of thought, as his grip around her tightens.

She shushes him softly while turning her head towards the familiar engine rumble down the alley, once she sees the lights she moves him to lean his arm around her shoulder and as gently as she could place him in the back seat. Maeve gets in after, typing the cave as the location in the autopilot before digging through the console for the various antidotes for the fear toxins.

3:00 am, Bat Cave.

Bruce lays on the med table, a lousy pillow with no support just like he usually wants it, but a thin not so soft blanket barely covers him. Maeve moves over to the computer desk to pull out one of the blankets he keeps for her in the drawers, laying it over him before sitting next to his bed. Ace sits patiently for her at the chair, laying his head in her lap with a soft breath as she sits leaning over the bed. She holds onto Bruce’s hand as gentle as she can, wanting to press her fingers into his wrist to feel his pulse closer even though the screens Alfred set up around him tell her everything she needs to know. She listens closely anyways.

The steady thumping of each heartbeat pulls her concentration, allowing her focus on the few stiches on the side of her head that Alfred had to give her after the contact with the brick wall. She allows the rhythm of Bruce’s sleepy heartbeat flow around them, listening to his very life force somehow comfort her, almost meditative.

Once she starts to feel his heartbeat shift in its repetitive nature, she opens her eyes to watch his mental state stir back into reality. Lifting his hand closer to her face she watches his eyes carefully, watching them dash from side under his lids as his awareness settles back into its harsher focus. Instead of speaking to him, she softly rubs her thumb over his knuckles slightly… patiently watching until his eyes finally open and lock onto hers. Maeve feels his thumb move similarly in hers as the crease between his eyebrows return. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

“Turns out I don’t need it as bad as you do.” She allows a small breath of a laugh out of her mouth, leaning more into the side of the bed to get a better look over his eyes that still remain slightly foggy. Bruce’s other hand moves tiredly up to drag a finger along her temple, resting where her bandage sits. “You still bleed…”

“It’ll be healed by morning.” She reassures him, trying to move his focus. “I was waiting till you were awake to see if you wanted me to remove the fear toxic… hangover… feeling.”

Bruce’s seriousness in his eyebrows release its crease but only to raise in a curious arch. A moment of silence passes between them before the corner of his lips curve into a smile. “Just this once.”

She acts immediately, gently allowing her energy into his mind to clear the foggy remanence of the toxin. Creating a small breeze inside him to release any lingering dangers she makes sure the process is quick but painless, allowing her energy to pass through him with ease and no harsh energy left behind as she pulls it back into herself. His small chuckle brings her attention back to his face. Maeve pushes back the sting of tears behind her lids, holding the burn.

“You’re gentle and careful, like she was.” His eyes squeezed then, before looking back at her gratefully. Maeve pulls their linked hands to her face, resting her cheek on it while returning the same smile. “I was afraid you’d lose that before coming back down the mountain.”

She shakes her head slowly, still staring right at him.

“Did you do what you needed to?” His voice got quieter.

She nods once, watching his blue eyes finally show clearer as feels the warmth finally begin to seep throughout his body.

“You still look too kind to have slaughtered an entire league of assassins.” He narrows his eyes at her, but not in a demeaning kind of way, she softly laughs. “You didn’t chose vengeance?”

She shakes her head again, leaning back into her chair and lowering their linked hands to the side of the bed, when she pulls back his other hand hovers where her face was for a moment before resting it on his core.

“Justice, not vengeance.” She whispers to him, feeling the burn under her eyelids finally drip down her cheeks.

“That’s my girl.”

Chapter Text

October 30^th, 2002. 9:00om Wayne Manor

“Hell of a way to spend your birthday.” Dicks voice travels down from his make shift hammock above her bed, watching her in front of her closet mirror try to button up her collared shirt. When the titans returned, he teleported here by Vic’s boom tube almost immediately, which she was grateful for. For a few weeks now, she’s felt more at ease with her big brother home with them, thankful is a better word for it.

“This is important, and you promised-“

“I know I know, and yes I promised… but that doesn’t mean I don’t have questions.” He cuts her off as he leaps down from the fabric hammock, grabbing the nice grey and black styled jacket from the door frame and wrapping it over her shoulders.

“We can talk later, but I’m already going to be late.” She smiles at him, putting her arms in the jacket and walking over to step into her shoes.

“Yes, ma’am.” He offers his elbow to her with a taunting smile, and she smiles back wide before walking out.

“Taking Mae out for her birthday dinner, I’ll get her home before it’s too late!” Dick yells to Alfred in the kitchen as they pass through the Manor, wiggling his shoulder at her as he lies.

“Ms. Wayne is a respectable lady Master Grayson, her father will expect her home before he heads out for patrol.” Alfred’s voice is an octave higher, a playful tone. Maeve narrows her eyes at Dick and he sends her a wink, guiding her out the doors.

Little Italy, Night Club. 10:00pm.

“You have yourself a deal, Ms. Wayne. And a willing partnership in the long run.” Falcone’s confidence exudes from his smirk before he stands from their table, offering her his hand in agreement. She takes it before standing herself, shaking in agreement while he guides her out of the booth. “Pleasure coming to… an understanding together.” She offers him graciously, allowing him to lead her through the mass of men surrounding them.

“Funny, us meeting on Devil’s Night.” He whispers down to her. She hum’s quietly back, wanting to move quicker through the night club.

Once they come to a stop in front of the entrance doors, he turns to her as he gestures his men away. “Do you have a safe way home?” He asks her quietly once their alone.

“Of course.”

“Alright, then I will contact you after the purchase is made.” His greedy eyes watch her move to the door, and she offers another friendly smile and nod before turning away and outside.

Once she steps out, she unbundles her jacket from over her arm, pulling her hands through and doing up the clasps before walking down the street a few blocks. When she’s sure she’s not being followed, she looks up to the top of the buildings surrounding her when she sees a black and blue figure start to swing from one of them in her direction from his grapple.

“Yoink!” Dick grabs her hand as he passes, pulling her into his arm and swings them to the roof above.

Wayne Manor, October 31^st. 6:00pm

They held off on patrol when they returned home, instead helping Barbra with her new computer set up at her apartment.

Halloween was never something Bruce entertained which in turn Maeve felt similar, but Alfred has a strange reoccurring sweet face every year as he asks her to dress up with him. This year he chose Sherlock and Watson, classy, simple, no pressure.

Dick on the other hand, practically sent her into loud guttural fit of laughter when he was getting ready. A nice off white button down shirt tucked into his dress pants, but under the buttons lay a bright blue leotard with a familiar ‘s’ symbol across the chest and large square framed glasses. Exclaiming to keep quiet, or someone might notice Clark Kent is Superman.

“Don’t you look mischievous, lads!” Alfred’s kind voice to a few children walking up the pathway for some candy breaks through the silence.

“Trick or treat!” The kids excitedly hold up some pillowcases.

“Yes yes, very good… here you are!” A friendly smile across his lips, dropping a chocolate bar and a few other candies into all their bags. All the kids murmur amongst each other, excited by the full sized chocolate bars, then commenting on how the manor looks like a castle.

Once they start skipping and jumping down the pathway, Alfred turns to her with an almost empty bowl. “Could you run in and retrieve the extra box in the den? Looks like Mr. Kent might be weighing us a bit thin.”

“I am also trick or treating, from home!” Dick teases through another bite of a large Oh Henry bar.

“And my dear…” Alfred lifts his hand slightly with a small piece of paper. “If you insist on carrying these little notes around, please check your pockets before sending down the laundry.” He hands it to her.

Maeve smiles and nods to Alfred, getting up to head inside for the extra candy.

The warmth of the den envelops her, the sound of the fire crackling and sight of the photos properly set up on the shelves around the fireplace. She inhales deeply to get the entirety of the room, as Bruce clears his throat softly. “Are you here to refill?” His smile seems strangely forced, as he taps the box next to him on the large sofa.

“Alfred never compensates for that man’s love for chocolatey nougat.” She smiles before sitting down on the lounge chair across from him, leaning forward on her knees.

Bruce lets out a quick laugh in a huff, adjusting himself to match her lean forward. “Who’s got your favorite costume this year?”

“A little girl came up as wonder girl about an hour ago.” She smiles wider.

“You know.” Bruce laughs again. “Normal people’s first crush is usually a celebrity or public figure of sorts, not a friend.”

“Donna wasn’t just a friend; she was my first friend outside of this house.” A faint blush fills her cheeks, and he raises an eyebrow at her. “If Dick asks, he was my favorite this year.”

“He would be very disappointed, don’t worry… your secrets safe with me.” He leans back with a smirk, a much less forced look in his eyes. “You never even offered an option for you and Alfred, in all the years you’ve been entertaining him with this.” His hand moves vaguely at her.

“Alfred doesn’t ask for much, it’s the least I can do to make him smile.”

“Never even gave it a thought?”

“You’re joking?” Maeve smiles with a narrowed eye at him. Bruce doesn’t indulge her thought, watching her patiently as his arms cross in front of him. “I already get to dress up as my favorite person every time we go out there, I don’t need a special day of the month to do it.”

Bruce’s shoulders slouch forward slightly, his smile flickering as she sees a glimpse of surprise in his eye at her. “I thought Dick thought of ‘The Scarlet Bat’ name?”

“Oh he absolutely did, I’m not nearly clever enough to think of something like that”

“Don’t do that.” Bruce snuffs in a laugh, shaking his head and redirecting his eyes to lock onto hers. “The only one underestimating that mind of yours, is you.”

Maeve smiles with a quiet breath. “You’re the one that okayed it anyways.”

“Favorite person, huh?” Bruce teases, changing the course of the conversation abruptly as he begins to stand with the box of candy in hand.

“And…” Maeve teases back, standing with him as his eyebrows crease in question. “And because bats are cool.”

“Bats are cool.” He allows an actual laugh to rise from his chest, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he walks her back outside with the candy and a wide grin causing his tiny dimples to show on each cheek.

Maeve feels the homely warmth close to her chest, a glimmer of hope to push her forward.

Grief works in funny ways, sometimes people need it. Go grow, to learn, to understand.