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Chapter Text

When Bruce Wayne returned at the age of twenty-five, Gotham's Elites held their breath. 

The orphan boy had returned and at last, they would finally know if they had a Kane or Wayne in their hands. A mad boy or a nosy one. It was an interesting wait to say the least, one that had the highest families at the edge of their seats. Bets were places, and deals were struck, some eager but most were uneasy at the prospect of another Kane gracing the cursed streets of Gotham. 

The last Kane was bad enough. 

Oh how Gotham’s Elites still shuddered at the mention of her despite decades after her death. She was truly something, Roderick’s girl. A Kane at her very core despite her small stature and doe-like eyes. Just as mad as her father and his father before him. They were lucky that death claimed her too soon, though not soon enough some would whisper to themselves. 

The Arkhams would say the same if they still remained. The proud Arkhams, the tall ones that loved to boast of their connections and their shipping yards a little too much. A little too loud for Roderick’s girl’s delicate ears. 

They boasted of dominating America’s shipping industry. Of leading the country into a new age of shipping. They most likely would have, Heaven knows they had the sons and daughters to bind other families to their business. It was just a shame they pulled on the wrong girl’s hair and threatened the Wayne boy that Kane fancied. 

The poor family believed themselves to be invincible, Roderick’s girl disagreed. She was right in the end, now no one even remembered the name Arkham except for the mental asylum Martha named after them. 

What a waste of fine breeding, most of Gotham’s Elites would say. Most of them would say the same about Martha’s boy but maybe that was for the best. 

After all, no one wanted another Kane running the streets. The last thing they wanted was another player they had to find new ways to dance to as they once did with his mother, and God forbid, if he was somehow worse than her. One could only imagine the hoops he would have made them jump into for his favor. 

That said, having a Wayne wouldn't be that better off either. The damned Waynes have always been too stubborn and too nosy for their own good. Always placing their noses into things it doesn't belong to. Always demanding change, demanding justice for people who don't deserve it. 

All things considered, they got lucky with the way the boy turned out. Where he carried Martha's ditziness, if one could even call it that, he lacked her madness, and where he possessed Thomas's protectiveness, he lacked his foresight. Truly, they got the best of both worlds. The perfect combination of Kane and Wayne one could ever ask for that will allow Gotham to remain the way it was. 

The right way as most would say. 

For a while, everything was perfect. With the Kane and Wayne's fearsome bloodlines reduced to a ditzy airhead boy, Gotham's Elites were thriving. Where there was once fear and anxiety over the fruit of a union between two of Gotham's most feared families, there was now celebration. No more worries of Kane's little songbirds striking down families that looked her's the wrong way or over Wayne's long nose sniffing out and uprooting their operations. 

The spider that once bound Gotham's Elites to her web was gone and with her the mutt that snarled at them. What's even better was that the spider's little songbirds and webs were free for the taking with the ditzy Wayne boy not even having a clue of their existence. Finally, everything was starting to fall into place. 

It remained that way for a while too. Even the so-called ‘Batman's’ appearance didn't do much to disrupt their new found peace. Too busy with mad men running around to do actual harm on their operations behind the scenes. And if Gotham's Elites even contributed to the rogues he fought, no one would ever know. 

Maybe a Kane would, but who knows? The last proper Kane died in a dirty alley from a filthy bottom feeder that no one even knew the name of. All that's left of the venomous spider that once terrorized them was a weak boy, not even aware of the bigger picture beneath him. 

All was well, until a new boy arrived from nowhere—Brucie’s son. 

He was a quiet boy but a fairly active one at that. He was always one step behind his father, watching, his bright green eyes bored and lips curled into a familiar frown, a look from him was enough to send shivers down their spines. 

It was like seeing a ghost in a way. A familiar one that made Gotham’s Elite’s breath hitch. Of course, most were quick to deny it. After all, no one wanted to be the foolish one to sound a false alarm of a Kane peaking through just because of a frown. It was too early to know, they argued. That was their first mistake. 

Their second was not paying much attention to the boy that had Martha’s frown. They should have never dismissed him. They should have never allowed the boy to work his way around Gotham like Thomas had.

In the end, Gotham’s Elites became too complacent, too fat from the spider’s absence to notice the birds returning to their rightful place or the webs reemerging around them. It was only when Brucie’s boy walked the stage to receive his Masters in Psychology that they noticed a crucial thing they missed before, his eyes. Green eyes that were a shade lighter but exactly the same as Martha’s in certain light. 

For the first time since Martha's boy returned, Gotham's Elites held their breath. 

They watched in the shadows with bated breaths as a young spider slowly emerged. Now at the age of fifteen, Brucie's boy walked the same way his mother did in her age. Green eyes sharp but always gentle, hands soft but firm, and a steel spine never bending. A Kane in the making. 

The highest families were cautious, most if not all still remembered the way Roderick's girl buried one of Gotham's richest families on a whim. They didn't want to test this one in fear that he would be a second Martha. Fortunately for them, they didn't have to test him as a certain clown did it for them. 

The Joker was an accident. One of their early attempts to keep the Bat busy. He was never supposed to become a rogue in his own name but merely an obedient little doll that the Leviticus family would bring out on occasion to mess with the Bat. They had no intention of letting him loose on the city with no leash on his neck but they were sloppy and for that, Brucie's second son was almost killed. 

It was worrying to say the least. Bad enough that the clown tried to target the poor boy the past year but to try again not even a full year after the last, it was madness. So it didn't come as a surprise when the clown was later found dead in the Leviticus's Manor with the cold corpses of the family sprawled around him with collars on their throats. 

The GCPD claimed it was Joker's making but Gotham's Elites knew better. How could they not when they saw her ghost stalking the streets a few months prior? 

For the first time since she died in that grimy old alley, Martha Kane came to life. Though she carried a different name and a different gender, no one could look at his stature and see anyone else but the spider that once roamed the streets years before. For the first time since Roderick’s girl, a new Kane had resurfaced in Gotham and he had come to collect his brother. 

It may be that some of the newer generations have forgotten but the older ones do not. They recognized that posture, that glint in his eyes, and that painfully innocent smile on his lips even as decades passed, and soon, so would the rest.

Gotham’s Elites made a mistake, the Kane madness didn’t die out with Martha, it just skipped a generation.

This couldn’t be more evident as the Kane with the name of Damian Al Ghul-Wayne cradles the hysterical and clawless Drake he called his brother in his arms. He hummed a familiar tune as the GCPD swarmed them, sealing off the crime scene with body bags being brought in for the goons that took the young boy.

It was the same tune Martha Kane used on her own boy once upon a time ago. The same tune that served as a beacon to the little songbirds she used to terrorize those she deemed too loud for her son’s delicate ears. 

“Don’t worry, my love, everything will be alright.” Al Ghul-Wayne crooned to the boy in his arms, a smile that didn't quite reach his cold green eyes stretched his lips. “Big brother will keep you safe, I promise.”

Gotham’s Elites went cold.

A new spider has emerged. 

Chapter Text

Admittedly, she didn't immediately notice him the moment he first stepped foot in her city. It wasn't exactly surprising given the thousands that regularly hopped in and out of her domain on a daily basis.

Though that also wasn't to say that she didn't take note of his existence later on. He was the son of her charming knight, so it was only inevitable that she would notice him. Not that there was anything particularly interesting about the boy.

Her knight's son was ordinary, much to her dismay. Almost painfully so that even the stench of Lazarus that clung to him didn't do him any favour. What a disappointment he was. One would think that the son of her darling knight and descendant of her adorable hound and precious spider would be more interesting, but alas, he was but a quiet and sniffling boy.

What a shame really, but she could hardly blame the boy given that he wasn't born on her lands. Had he been born within her borders, she would have stopped at nothing to inspire spirit in him. She would have made him as curious as her hound and sharp as her spider, maybe even as determined as her knight. She would have made him interesting.

Though she supposed it wouldn't be too late to start now. He was still young. Still very much malleable to her influence. No doubt with a little touch here and there, she could make a proper lover out of him.

How she giggled at the thought of it. A little one to dance on her streets, a squire for her darling knight. Oh, she could hardly wait for that time to come.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for her desire to come into fruition. After only a number of months after his arrival, her knight's son took to the streets. It came as a surprise to her really. Up until then she believed the boy to be lame. She didn't really believe that he would have the spirit to dance for her, nor did she think that he would be able to keep up with her knight if he did, but she was wrong.

So wrong in fact that she was actually surprised when she first saw him out on her rooftops. She could hardly contain her excitement as she watched him dance through the night. Filled with such grace and lightness that even her darling knight didn’t possess.

She was overjoyed. That boy, Robin, as her knight called him, had spirit. Not only that, he had her spider's spirit.

Gotham thrummed with renewed excitement, there was a new spider in her streets. A budding spider that was not quite as effective as her previous one but a spider no less. It would take time for him to become like her. That for certain given that her darling knight was almost desperately trying to pull his son away from that route but in time she would have him. She didn't have any doubt that she would.

After all these years of waiting, she would finally have a new spider. She could hardly wait for that time to come.

Her knight was a darling one, don't get her wrong but he wasn't enough. He was just a little bit too much like her previous hound and not enough of her precious spider. He simply didn't have the spirit, the will to move like his mother, or his son, as a matter of fact.

At least that was what she believed.

As the years flew by and her budding spider grew older, he became stagnant. He didn't act like her spider as she thought he would, nor like her hound. He was just there, standing in the shadows of her knight.

Gotham seethed, this wasn't how he was supposed to be acting. He was supposed to be lively. He was supposed to be bold. He was not supposed to act like a little puppet that needed to be strung to move. He was not.

He was supposed to be better than her knight but he wasn't and she felt cheated. Betrayed by her own darling knight who had seemingly succeeded in pulling her spider away from his rightful role. Preventing him from continuing her spider's mission.

That wouldn't do.

For the following weeks, she toyed with the remedies she could apply to fix him. There were plenty available at her disposal with her malicious children nudging her more mischievous ones to move. She had a full deck. An almost endless supply of naughty children waiting to be put in their place, she just needed to pick which few would be the most effective.

But then, before she could decide which child would test her Robin, he disappeared.

At first she didn't want to believe it. She refused to acknowledge the possibility that her spider would dare to leave her. He couldn’t, after all the rest of her lovers didn’t so why would he be different? He wasn’t different from them. He couldn’t be. He wasn’t supposed to be. But as the days flew by and with still no sign of her budding spider, she had no choice but to accept it. Her little one had left. He had abandoned her. Betrayed her.

Gotham grew cold. For the first time in her entire existence, one of her lovers left her. He left her. He. Left. Her.

Her streets went silent. Shadows deepened as both her days and nights grew inexplicably colder. Her winds howled and grew more akin to wails as the days grew shorter with each passing week. Her waters darkened and stilled as the current beneath strengthened, so much so that even her more adventurous children did not dare to enter them.

It didn’t take long before her children noticed and soon they grew desperate. Searching day and night as they tried and failed to find the root of her misery. Exhausting any and all possibilities they could think of whilst trying to pin the blame on her mischievous children. Just to find a cure for her.

Had this happened earlier, she would have found it amusing, cute even, that her loving children would go out of their way to try and find a cure for her aching heart. She would have cooed and perhaps even nudged them to the right direction as she had always done in the past. Now however, after the person she believed would help her betrayed her. After her dark knight lost her spider, she could only look at them with disappointment.

She could hardly bear to watch over them as she usually did. Her core aching, streets cracking as she mourned for her spider and her legacy. They failed her. Both her knight and his little robin, they both failed her. Now she could hardly bear to look at him.

So she didn’t.

Gotham retreated back from her consciousness. Leaving her children to fend for themselves as they once did before she came into existence.

That day, her city froze. Plants wilted as the sun hid behind black stubborn clouds that refused to part even for the moon. Rain became scarce in the city and was painful to the touch when it fell and with even, the air had become still and even hard to breathe in. Soon, her city began to resemble her sister city more than her own and if her children hadn’t noticed her pain before, now it was almost impossible to deny.

For the first time since her creation, Gotham had turned her back on her city and no matter what her children did, she would not turn back. Not after what they’d done to her lover, her little misguided spider.

Seasons passed, and Gotham remained underneath. Distantly, she felt the emergence of another robin. A new squire that her knight had handpicked but unlike with his first, she had no interest with him. He was but a pitiful replacement for her last spider. A dull and weak boy that couldn’t even hold a candle to her budding spider’s significance.

So when he disappeared some time later, she couldn’t care less. She never liked that boy anyway. As a matter of fact, she likely wouldn’t have noticed his disappearance had it not been for her traitorous knight handling her mischievous children harder than he usually did.

As if that boy carried more weight than her poor little budding spider.

Gotham raged that night. Strong winds screeched into the early morning as the unrelenting rain fell on her streets. Her streets cracked as her waves slammed mercilessly against her harbor that her bridge threatened to give way. It was one of her darkest nights. One that left even Blud curious for its cause.

Then her spider returned.

She felt him step into her borders on a cold and dreary night and she resurfaced to see. The stench of Lazarus stronger as he helped another one off a plane. A daughter of Lazarus the girl with him was. Sharp and poisonous, similar to her previous spider but different. Though she could care any less about the daughter of Lazarus when her budding spider had returned.

Older and just as tall as her previous spider. He looked beautiful. So much so that she was almost tempted to show herself to him. She wondered if he would like her appearance given that she had mostly taken the face of her previous spider. Or perhaps, he would fall to his knees as her traitorous knight did. She would see.

For the first time since her precious spider was taken from her, Gotham rose. Cloaked in her shadows and dressed in her lovely daughters’ finest silks, she watched him. Always at the corner of his eyes, stalking him, giggling as he stumbled and searched for her. 

She continued this for a while, waiting for him to make his next move. Looking to see if his time away had straightened him out and purring with delight as he slowly revealed his hand to her. Then, he struck.

It happened quickly. One moment she was watching him dance around her previous spider’s old webs and the next, one of her mischievous children was caught.

With a bated breath, Gotham watched as her budding spider sank his teeth into one of her naughty children. She was at the edge of her shadows, barely able to conceal her excitement as her little spider spun his web around her mischievous child and prepared his webs for her malicious children as well.

She couldn’t even bring herself to describe the high she’d felt watching him flick away her naughty child when he shifted his attention to the dull and sniveling replacement her knight bought.

He was gentle with him curiously. Taking his sweet time as he worked him under his cocoon. Cooing and brushing away his tears and he rocked him back and forth as her previous spider did to her knight.

Then it clicked.

Suddenly, everything her knight did during her spider’s disappearance made sense. Even the things she had noted off as foolish made sense now. He wasn’t trying to replace her spider, he was setting a honey trap. He was looking for a way to bind her adventurous spider to her permanently. He was luring him to her just like her hound did with her spider. 

That day, Gotham laughed. Euphoria filled her very being as her lovers took the reins of her city. Lines formed in the cracked pavements of her land and her children divided as her lovers came to an agreement and took to the sky once more.

She felt foolish for even doubting her darling knight as she watched him welcome her spider with open arms. She had misunderstood him, she realized, her darling and ever so loyal knight. He may not have her previous spider's ruthlessness but that didn't mean that he was any less as dedicated as her, he just had a different way of showing it.

Where her previous spider kept a more hands on approach for controlling her malicious children, her knight had no desire for it. Instead, he preferred to look away. To keep himself busy with her mischievous children and give her darling spider the space to do what needed to be done. To do what he had no stomach to do.

For the first time in many, many years, Gotham was content. With her once-budding spider grown and her knight by his side, her lands would be protected. She could already feel the fear coming off both her malicious and mischievous children, and she couldn’t be more excited. Finally, everything was starting to fall into place.

Years passed by and her charming knight collection of little angels grew. True to her belief, her spider did live up to her previous one’s legacy. Dare she say that he was even working to surpass her with his influence growing beyond the bounds of her city. An attentive lover, he was.

In another world she may have taken his younger siblings as her lovers as well. She may have groomed them to be her little angels the moment they entered her knight’s possession and they too would battle the darkness rooted in her very existence. They would be hers in every way that mattered.

But that was in a different world, she mussed, watching fondly as her darling little lover danced around her streets, painting them with a lovely shade of red. For in this world, there was no need for another lover. There was only him and her knight.

Nightwing.

Her darling angel.

Her newest lover.

Chapter Text

There was a boy in his class almost ten years ago.

A small boy that could have easily been mistaken for an eight year old because of his short stature. It was almost funny how all of Professor Frederick Simmons’s troubles started with a boy as short as him if it wasn’t all that depressing to think about.

The boy didn’t even reach his shoulders when he claimed that he was enrolled in his class. A prank, Frederick thought when he first heard it, because there was no way that it wasn't. There was no way that Gotham University would allow a ten year old to enroll into their college program and in Psychology too of all courses.

It was a joke. It had to be, he remembered thinking to himself as he stared at the small boy occupying a seat at the front row, there was no way what he was saying was true. But as minutes passed and none of his colleagues came out, Frederick felt his stomach drop.

He remembered feeling anger as he left the room. The doors slammed loudly behind him but Frederick could hardly bring himself to care. He was almost frantic in his search for the head of his department, one of his long time friends in the university he worked in. He marched in the Dean’s Office looking for clarity but instead he found corruption.

Frederick would never forget the look on his face. His dearest friend explained to him in great detail how he allowed the boy to take the entrance exam despite his alarmingly young age and that he had nothing to worry about.

‘He is mature for his age, Fredy,’ The Dean said calmly, ‘A bright boy that has so much to offer, I saw no reason to turn him away when he was so eager to apply to my program. Sure, he may be younger than most of your students but he’s a fast learner. Just give him a chance.’

Frederick doesn’t remember the exact words he said next but he remembered an argument. A shouting match between him and his former friend as the latter tried to justify his decision. Tried to tell him that it was in the university's best interest. 

That there was nothing wrong with admitting a ten year old in his program. 

Frederick almost punched him after he said that, but he settled on breaking the mug that he’d gifted him almost five years ago. He left soon after, breaking their decades long friendship.

He didn’t hold class that day. 

Nor the day after that.

Or even the day after that.

He felt disgusted. Repulsed by his colleagues' willingness to look the other way for the boy. Sickened that they would allow a child that young to enroll in this course as if none of them were aware of the dangers it could bring. The disruption it would cause to the child’s mental development.

All because the boy was wealthy.

The child’s father had donated a large sum, Frederick would later come to learn. Large enough to upgrade their facilities and for a new laboratory to be built, something the university had long wanted. 

Frederick would have scoffed if he didn't feel ashamed for his colleagues' actions. So much for the safety of children when it only took a couple of new toys and a room for that to be forgotten.

No matter, if his colleagues were too blind to see their mistake then he would do it for them.

For the following days, Professor Simmons held a silent protest. He doesn't attend the boy's class and neither does he continue his research for the university. That said, he doesn't abandon that class either, at least not in the university's standard. He made attendance mandatory and had his class watch pre recorded video lectures in his time. Enough to inconvenience them but not enough to compromise their studies.

He was aware that what he was doing wasn't refined for a professor his age but he couldn't find it in himself to care. It wasn't as if what he was doing was wrong. He knew there were a number of professors that were doing the same for no greater reason.

So what was the big deal?

"The deal is that you're being racist, Fredy.” One of his colleagues hissed at him after one of his classes.

“This isn't about race and you know it,” Frederick argued back. "This is about his age and the fact that none of you are willing to see this for what it is.”

"Fredy—”

"No, you want me to return to my research and start my lessons in that class? Then remove him from this university, a child his age has no business learning Psychology.”

That was his demand. Remove the child or he wouldn't continue his lessons nor his research.

It was a simple demand. The child or him. But he wasn't naive enough to think that they would follow his demand right away and he was right.

Not even a day after he was approached by his colleague, news broke accusing him of discrimination. It was nothing short of a mess after that. Though his former students refused to believe the slander on Gotham News, many did and he was almost impressed, if not disappointed. 

Many had rushed to call him names, some even going so far as to send his death threats. One even went so far as to throw eggs at him. Which was wasteful considering how expensive it was to buy fresh eggs in Gotham.

Still he doesn't relent.

He continued unbending and unashamed at his protest. He ignored reporters and denied the claims. He doesn't set up an interview with the media though, he doesn't wish to give more attention to the child with a father unwilling to protect him and an absent mother.

In the end, it took one of his former students putting it into perspective for him. It was on a Wednesday while he was on his way home when Harleen Quinzel got in his car with him.

Despite the hardships she'd been through, Harleen still looked the same as she once did in his lecture room nearly twelve years ago. Frederick couldn't bring himself to be afraid of her even with the large mallet she had in her hands.

So when she asked him for the truth, he gave it to her.

She was silent for a moment, “I'll talk to Mr. Wayne for you, Professor, why don't you talk to the kid?” 

Frederick agreed. He said his goodbyes and waved her off. 

Before she left, she suprised with a hug. “Take care of yourself, sir, there are lots of psychos out there looking for an excuse you know? I'll watch your back but ya need to watch your back too okay?” 

She left before he could reply.

That was how Frederick found himself standing in front of the boy that Friday. He asked the boy to stay after class that day, ignoring the pointed looks he received from his other students as they left.

It took his students almost ten minutes to leave. Twice as long than what it would usually take then to. They don't leave, not really. Most, if not all, of them were outside waiting for their smallest classmate to emerge.

A gesture that made Frederick proud.

Frederick beckoned him closer, mindful of their distance and the volume of his voice. Whether or not the boy would choose to share their convesection with the other students was up to him. Though Frederick would still give him this privacy.

"Do you understand why I asked you to stay, Mr. Wayne?”

The boy nodded.

“That's good,” Frederick pursed his lips. There were many ways he could have chosen to continue but at that moment he couldn't bring it in himself to delay what needed to be said. “Do you understand why I do not want you in this university, Mr. Wayne?” 

There was a pause, “It's not because of my race, is it?”

Frederick almost scoffed, “No, it's not.” then in a softer tone. “It is your age.”

The boy didn't seem surprised and Frederick continued, “To be frank with you, I am worried. You are young, Mr. Wayne, too young for this program. Too young to be in university. I have nothing against your race and had you been older, I would have never acted the way I am right now.”

Then he sighed to himself, “I want you to be honest with me. Why are you here? Of all the courses you could have taken, why Psychology?”

There was a pause for a moment before, “Because I want to help them.” The boy said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“My mother and father are not well. They haven't been for a long time and I want to understand them. They won't get help. They refuse to so I wish to help them myself. I wish to help them get better, Professor.”

Frederick allowed him to leave soon after that.

The rest of the day was a blur to Frederick. As soon as he got home, he allowed himself a drink from the liquid he swore he'd never touch and a drag from the cigarette that he'd long sworn off. 

And he thinks. 

He doesn't sleep that day, nor the next as he thought to himself of how unfair the world was to young children like Mr. Wayne. Only ten years old and yet already carrying the burden of his parents on his shoulders. 

Damian Wayne was a smart boy, there was no denying it. Some would say that he was a prodigy even, destined to do great things. 

Frederick would not argue with them in that view point, but many forget that Damian Wayne was only a child. A small child that was destined to fall and burn himself out if not guided and given the chance to breathe. 

And if the child's parents were not willing to help their son and give him the space, then Frederick would do it for them.

Two days after he spoke with the boy, exactly three weeks since Professor Frederick Simmons walked out of the lecture hall, he returned. With a new found heaviness in his bones and a blank look on his face, he stood in front of his students.

Though the media would later remember that day as a step in the right direction in the fight against bigotry, Frederick Simmons would remember that day as the day that he became an accomplice to a child's neglect.

“Some are not meant to be parents.” Professor Simmons started, hands behind his back, “Admit to it or not, there are some that simply carry too much baggage inside of them to be good ones. And whether or not they intend to, they hurt others—their children.”

“This is not to say that hurt people cannot be good parents. I believe that anyone can be a good mother or father if they decide to heal themselves first.” He pursed his lips and nodded to himself. “I hope you all remember this before you consider having a child yourself.” 

Frederick turned his back and picked up a marker. His mouth dry and his heart heavy as he spelled out his name and his subject. “I am Professor Frederick Simmons and welcome to Theories of Personality.”

It was not illegal, per se, for a ten year old to enter college. There was no law prohibiting Damian Wayne from doing so. As a matter of fact, he wouldn't even be the youngest in history to do so. Many have done it before, some younger than him and some even taking Psychology courses themselves. 

But still Frederick mourns. Even almost a decade after Damian Wayne—now Damian Al Ghul-Wayne—first stepped foot into his class, Frederick mourns for the child he could have been. 

He thinks about it some days. What Damian Al Ghul-Wayne could have become if he wasn't burdened at such a young age. 

If someone else had bothered to step in and save him.

So he mourns.

Not for a dead boy, but for the child he failed.

A child that no one wanted to save.