Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

12 YEARS AGO - GOTHAM.

Jason had pressed the baby tightly against his chest. His legs were aching from running, almost as if they were screaming in desperation, begging him to give up. Rain trickled between the sidewalks of Gotham, and the city streets were even more deserted than usual. There were dozens—no, hundreds—of police cars and units chasing after him. Jason knew exactly who was behind all of this. He knew who they were.

He held the baby, his little daughter, so tightly in his arms that she was screaming like her lungs were about to burst, writhing in pain. Jason wasn’t even aware. He was trapped in his own madness, battling with it, unable to stop his heart from pounding violently in his chest at the mere thought of returning to that horrible asylum. Never again. If he went back to Arkham Asylum this time, escape would be impossible.

"Jason!"

Batman? No. That was Bruce. Bruce Wayne.

Police units, doctors, stunned onlookers, reporters. And among them—Bruce Wayne. The man who was supposed to be his father now stared at him like a lion hunting its prey, eyes cold and merciless. Dick, the man who was supposed to be his older brother, stood beside Bruce with a pitiful, almost condescending look. They were both itching to be the first to catch him and lock him away in a psych ward. They had dreamed of this moment—whether Red Hood was in the picture or not.

Jason kept holding the baby until he was backed into an empty wall. He could no longer think. He leaned against the cold surface and collapsed to the ground. The baby—Catherine. Yes, that’s what he had named her. He wanted the name of his late stepmother to be remembered this way—maybe with a life that had some happiness in it.

But Jason, a 15-year-old boy barely capable of caring for his barely one-year-old baby, had only brought her hardship and discomfort. He clutched Catherine so tightly now that the premature child’s fragile body was about to break. “Don’t come any closer… DON’T—“

When Bruce finally saw that Jason had cornered himself against the wall, he stopped the police officers. “I’ll handle this.” he said in a quiet and calm tone. But his appearance was anything but calm—he looked like he was about to shatter from rage. Jason was only fifteen, a boy who could’ve had a wonderful life, but instead, he had gotten a young girl pregnant and caused her death during childbirth. As if that wasn’t enough, he had tried to escape the hospital with his newborn baby. Jason had already been through more than enough—he should never have had a child. His son was obsessive, his body filled with Lazarus water, having gone through madness and back. Jason could never be a normal parent. Above all, he was just a fifteen-year-old high school student. Bruce turned to his eldest son, Dick. “Stay here.” he instructed. He tried to approach his younger son and his newborn granddaughter with caution.

“Don’t come closer…” Jason spoke between heavy breaths, his eyes wide and full of fear. He was holding the baby so tightly that she had stopped breathing, but Jason was so tense and terrified he didn’t even realize it. Bruce knelt down beside him. His eyes widened when he sensed the baby wasn’t breathing. He hadn’t realized how hard Jason was squeezing her. His son wasn’t okay.

“Jason…” Bruce’s voice caught in his throat. He had to get the baby out of his arms. “Give me Catherine—” he quickly tried to free the baby from his son’s tightly locked arms. He couldn’t reason with Jason right now, or the baby would die. “JASON! GIVE ME CATHERINE! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL THE BABY!”

“Don’t touch me! DON’T TOUCH ME!” Jason clutched her even tighter. He pressed the baby against his chest, as if he wasn’t even aware of what was happening. He had completely lost it.

“Jason!—” Dick couldn’t help but intervene at the sound of his little brother’s desperate scream. He could clearly see Bruce trying to take the baby from Jason’s arms. He quickly ran over to his family and knelt beside Jason, trying to understand what was happening. “What’s going on, Jason!? JASON!? CATHERINE!”

“Dick, tell the doctors to bring a sedative—quick! He’s going to kill the baby!” Bruce commanded with a voice that was a mix of fear and fury. Dick’s heart pounded with terror and his mind went blank. He quickly shouted for the doctors and told them to come over immediately. The patient needed to be stabilized, or the baby was going to die.

Jason grew more terrified as people approached him. He squeezed his eyes shut, curling into himself like a ball while clutching the baby to his chest like a teddy bear. That was the difference between a child and a parent. One protected their baby, the other treated it like a toy. “LEAVE ME ALONE! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!!—”

“JASON! DON’T, PLEASE—!” Dick could do nothing but scream as the doctors tried to pry open his brother’s fists and force him to release the baby. Bruce couldn’t bear to watch and shut his eyes. As the doctors finally managed to rescue the baby and pinned Jason down to calm him, Dick tried desperately to soothe his brother. “Jason… Jason, please calm down, you’re going to be okay, you—”

“The baby’s in critical condition! Get the ambulance ready now!” the doctors shouted to the rest of the medical team, and Bruce, leaving Jason and Dick behind, rushed after Catherine. If something happened to her, he would never be able to forgive Jason. No matter what.

“She’s only one year old! She was once burned by boiling water in her crib—It happened because of my mentally unstable son. Please, help my granddaughter!” Bruce spoke as he walked alongside the ambulance carrying Catherine. Yes, this wasn’t the first time Jason had harmed his own daughter. Catherine had already been through so much, and the biggest reason was Jason—her fifteen-year-old father. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Catherine would have had a far better life without Jason. And Jason would’ve had a better life without Catherine, in a mental institution.

Dick turned to his father. “I’ll stay with Jason. You go with Catherine.” he said. Bruce could see how drained Dick was by all of this. Cassandra had to stay at the manor with Tim and Damian, and he was sure they were all worried about Jason and Catherine’s condition. Everything had escalated so quickly, and now Bruce had to choose—his granddaughter or his son.

And for now, the choice was painfully clear.

—

12 YEARS LATER - WAYNE MANOR.

Catherine Wayne sat with her knees pulled to her chest, trying to look outside through the window in front of her bed, nestled within the towering walls of the mansion she'd lived in since birth. But even that was difficult—the estate’s vast grounds blocked the view beyond. Catherine had a large family. A grandfather, an aunt, older and younger uncles, cousins, in-laws, and many more. From what she had been told, her parents had died in a fire a few years after she was born, and she had been the only one to survive. Her body still bore the scars—second-degree burns.

She didn’t know much more about her parents. In fact, she didn’t even have a photograph of her mother. Since she lived with her father’s side of the family in the manor, she had access to many pictures and stories about them. But when it came to her mother, all she knew was her name—Raquelle—and the fact that she had come from Chicago. Raquelle D'Arcy.

It wasn’t easy to understand all of this. Accepting it all wasn’t easy either. Some things felt... incomplete, as if she had been left unfinished. At the very least, she knew who she looked like. She had black hair, sometimes clipped her bangs with snap-on barrettes, bright blue eyes just like many others in her family, and a pretty face with lightly freckled cheeks that flushed easily. Because of the second-degree burns, her skin no longer grew hair, which her aunt Stephanie said was a blessing for girls. Catherine had worked hard to either hide her pain or learn to live with it. At least she had a big family who loved and protected her. But more than anything, her family was made up of heroes.

Her grandfather was Batman. The rest of the family were also heroes or vigilantes, forming a group called the Batfamily. Her grandfather even knew Superman. That was incredibly exciting. Catherine had even heard that her father used to be one of those vigilantes. The most legendary legacy in the family was the name Robin—a heroic title. Her oldest cousin, Martha Wayne, daughter of her eldest uncle Dick, had been carrying that title for the past two years. Sometimes, Catherine couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of her.

Now she sat in her room at the manor, by the window, wearing sweatpants and hopelessly trying to see something beyond the glass. At any moment, the mansion’s butler, Alfred, could call her downstairs for breakfast. Catherine hated mornings. Her life moved in such a repetitive loop that only nighttime ever brought her peace. At night, she didn’t have to do anything—no one expected anything from her. Nighttime was disposable. But in the morning, everyone expected her to be cheerful and healthy.

What Catherine didn’t know, though, was that night was far from disposable. In fact, it was the only time the Batfamily truly came together. But even then, Catherine remained a leftover—someone who didn’t belong. And she hated it.

Right on cue, the knock she’d been expecting echoed through her room. Alfred’s polite voice came through the door. “Miss Catherine, may I come in?”

Catherine was already awake and up. She walked over and unlocked the door, turning to Alfred with a forced smile. “Good morning, Alfred.” she said.

“Good morning, Miss Catherine.” Alfred smiled in return. “Your uncle asked me to call you down for breakfast.” he began. “I see you’re up early as usual—I do hope it’s not a sign of teenage stress.” He teased gently. Martha’s teenage years had ended recently, and they had been... quite a challenge.

Catherine chuckled. “Oh, no. I’m fine for now—but if anything goes wrong, feel free to blame my hormones.” she replied with the same playful sarcasm. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Alfred nodded. “Don’t be late. I doubt little Miss Tiffany will save you any of her breakfast pancakes.” he said with a smile before heading downstairs.

Catherine closed the door again and let out a deep sigh. As always, she had to mentally prepare herself just to go down for breakfast. Her grandfather had probably already started work early, and there likely wouldn’t be many people at the table. She didn’t get along perfectly with her cousins, but still, she loved her family.

Yet, she couldn’t stop wishing her father were there. 

Maybe then she wouldn’t feel like such a stranger.

Chapter Text

12 YEARS AGO - GOTHAM / ARKHAM ASYLUM.

Jason wasn’t trying to get Catherine out of Gotham that day.

He was trying to kill her.

“Why did you do it?” Bruce was confronting his youngest son within the four walls of the Arkham Asylum's Interrogation Room—a tomb of privacy where truth was laid bare. Right beside him, Dick stood with arms crossed, barely able to look his brother in the face. Bruce could see Jason avoiding his eyes. “Look at me and answer.” His tone was harsh and commanding. Bruce couldn’t hold himself back right now, not when a baby—especially his own granddaughter—was the one in danger. Bruce slammed his hand down hard on the table, leaving a mark on its surface. “Why have you been hurting Catherine since the day she was born?!”

Jason flinched at the force of the blow, but his head still hung low, silent. His hair fell over his face, hiding his emotions. But Bruce could understand the stress Jason was under. The Lazarus power was completely gone. Because all of it had been transferred to Catherine. Now, the more Catherine could use that power, the stronger she would become. She would be stronger than Jason, and Jason would be stuck here, trapped in the same frail, pain-filled young body he had before. Bruce knew he couldn’t allow Catherine to use that power, so he would give her a good life under his own care. He couldn’t destroy her like Jason tried to. Never. Because Jason wanted to destroy her—just so he could take the Lazarus power back. What a disgusting thing.

Dick instinctively stepped forward. “Jason.” His voice wasn’t as gentle as it used to be, like there was so much more beneath his words, and it radiated a deadly kind of anger. Jason seemed to sense it, and he was forced to slightly lift his head in the presence of Dick’s dark aura. Dick’s once-kind gaze had turned sour and hostile. Or worse—filled with disappointment and disgust. He was looking at a man who had done this to his own child, even if that man was his little brother. “Answer me. Why did you want to kill Catherine?”

“Kill her.” A sharp, painful sob escaped Jason’s throat. “Kill her. Please, kill her.” He placed his hands on either side of his head and rocked back and forth in the chair, his voice breathless and filled with agonizing sobs. As he kept repeating the words like he wasn’t in control of himself, Dick and Bruce could do nothing but stand there, filled with grief and rage.

“You won’t hurt her. Not ever again.” Bruce’s face remained stoic. But inside, there was such a ruthless fury toward his own son that he had no idea what to do with it. On one hand, he felt heartbreak and compassion for his 15-year-old son who had barely held onto happiness, and on the other, he was crushed by the thought of everything his not-even-12-month-old granddaughter Catherine had already been through—and he could do nothing about it. “Now tell me, why did you do it?” Bruce said.

Jason bit his lip, his eyes burning with tears, and he didn’t look at Bruce or Dick. “In Chicago…” his voice trailed off. “That day we went to Chicago for the Joker raid…” Jason’s body was shaking so violently his breathing came in ragged gasps. It was clear how much this kind of trauma affected him—he was still a child, after all—and Dick couldn’t help the overwhelming urge to grab his brother and hold him. But he knew he couldn’t. Not now. Not when they were this close to finally getting the answers.

The Chicago incident was a complete disaster. Back in Jason’s early days as Robin, Batman had discovered a new warehouse filled with Joker’s toxins, and this time the crimes were going to take place in Chicago—another crime capital after Gotham. Batman, as always, had planned to work on it alone, because he was worried something might happen to Jason. Especially since Jason was still a new Robin, and the Joker was involved—he couldn’t just drag him into another country alone. But Jason’s plans were different. Because of his need to prove himself, he followed Batman without him even noticing. And it all began in Chicago.

Raquelle D'Arcy.

Bruce never met her. Never got the chance. He never learned anything about her or her family. Jason met her in Chicago, and after that, he never told Bruce a thing about her. Nine months later, a letter arrived saying Raquelle was dead—and with it, a very sick baby. Bruce ran a quick DNA test on the child, and the results led straight to Jason, in a way that was both unexpected and terrifying. Jason, following Cassandra’s suggestion, named the baby Catherine. His late mother’s name. Catherine. Just like the guilt that had seeped deep into his soul over what happened to the woman who had raised and died for him. But Jason clearly didn’t feel only guilt toward Catherine. He had a much bigger goal—he wanted to remove her from this world entirely. And for that goal, he continuously abused a 12-month-old baby. Disgusting—but true.

“Talk. I can’t stand listening to you whine anymore.” Bruce let the words slip from his mouth without the slightest trace of guilt.

“I was still Robin when I first met Raquelle.” Jason’s voice cracked, but he was telling the truth. That much was obvious. Bruce knew his son well enough to tell when he was lying or not, and right now, continuing this conversation might finally bring some real answers. Bruce just hoped those answers wouldn’t force him to hear even darker things about Jason—or fuel the hatred already burning inside him. “I saved her. Raquelle. After that, I kept running into her on the rough streets of Chicago. I told her I could help because… I liked her. She was two years older than me.”

“She was seventeen.” Dick repeated. “But you met her two years before that. So you were thirteen, and she was fifteen.” Dick slowly covered his mouth in mild shock. “That girl was only seventeen when she got pregnant. What happened after that?”

“She asked me to tell her my real identity, but I said I couldn’t. I made sure she wouldn’t even guess who my partner was—Robin wasn’t mine to claim. Then, years later, when I returned as Red Hood… I found her. In Chicago. In that same filthy, crumbling neighborhood. There was something in her eyes that pulled me in. Her eyes were sky blue… but sometimes, they turned earthy black. They were sharp—and beautiful.” Jason flinched slightly as he spoke. “I told her I was back. I revealed my identity to her then. I didn’t have anything tying me to Batman anymore. I said I was all hers. Raquelle seemed pleased. I believed she loved me. That night, she took me to a nightclub. Said she was about to turn eighteen. She got me in. She knew I was too young, but said guys shouldn’t be restricted by drinking age.”

“She forced you to drink.” Bruce leaned forward. “Did she say she was about to turn eighteen? Or was that just an excuse to get inside? Did you ever get the chance to see her ID? Was her name even really Raquelle? Jason?—”

“STOP IT!” Jason stood up from the chair, clutching his hair tightly with both hands as if trying to silence his own mind, groaning in frustration. “I’m trying to explain! I didn’t want to hurt her!”

“JASON!” Dick grabbed both of Jason’s wrists, trying to stop him from pulling out his own hair. “We’re listening. Calm down. We’re here, okay?”

“I never saw her ID.” Jason slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor as he started to calm down. “I thought she was just a street kid—kids like that don’t have IDs. They just try to survive. I figured even her last name was something she made up…” Jason averted his eyes. “Anyway, we’re never going to find out more about her now.”

“The answers?” Bruce knelt down in front of Jason, lowering himself to eye level, narrowing his gaze slightly. “What did you want from Catherine? Was all of this about Lazarus? And Raquelle’s pregnancy—why?”

“I…” Jason shut his eyes. “I drank too much. At the nightclub, I drank way too much. I was losing control of my body. Raquelle started to feel so… familiar. Her warmth, her hugs… even her scent reminded me of my mom. My step mother. Catherine Todd.” Jason buried his hands in his face and couldn’t stop the nausea rising in him. “A few minutes later, I remember screaming. Cathe—Raquelle, she was begging me to stop.”

What?

No .

That wasn’t what they were expecting .

NO .

“You raped her.” Bruce’s face twisted with disgust. “That’s why you wanted to kill Catherine. You didn’t want to keep a child born from filth. Because she would be the product of a rapist’s blood. And the reason you allowed her to take in the Lazarus… was so the power would kill her.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.” Jason’s breathing grew heavier. But he couldn’t say a single word about Bruce calling him a rapist. It was like his throat had closed up and he was too exhausted to speak. He couldn’t say anything about that night. “I didn’t want Catherine to be affected by the Lazarus green inside me. I thought it would do the opposite—drive her insane. To give her power strong enough to kill her, I would’ve had to make her drink the Lazarus water. If the water enters a healthy heart, since birth and death are polar opposites that still feed off each other, it could poison her and end her life while keeping the power alive inside her. That purity in her blood… it could've given it back to me. Twice the strength. But instead, everything backfired. Catherine is now stronger than me, and all she has to do is awaken that power.”

“Where did you learn all this?”

“Ra’s.” Jason didn’t say anything else.

Dick’s entire body froze. Hearing all this broke him. Bruce, on the other hand, seemed to maintain his calm, but he felt like a single move would send him collapsing to the floor. As Dick still stood by the wall where Jason had crumbled, Bruce made a motion to leave, but he stumbled and grabbed onto Dick. That moment snapped Dick out of it, giving him the strength and clarity to walk out of the room. He never turned back to look at Jason’s face.

At first, he thought it was because he didn’t have the heart to face him.

But later, he realized—

The one without a face wasn’t him.

—

12 YEARS LATER - WAYNE MANOR.

Catherine was wearing a plain pair of black pants and a simple red sweatshirt. Her body was quite skinny and frail, but also flexible; still, most things she wore tended to hang loose on her. As a girl, looking like this didn’t wear her down—after all, she had grown up without feeling the need to prove anything. But to avoid seeming weak to those around her, she often played the role of the overly energetic girl.

“Good morning!!” Catherine made a lively entrance as she came down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen table. “How are my heroic outlaw family members doing today?” she grinned while grabbing a piece of bread from the table and popping it into her mouth.

“Please refrain from eating while standing, Miss Catherine. Kindly take your seat and use a softer tone at the table.” Alfred offered a gentle reminder with understanding. Catherine’s usual mischief always reminded him of Jason’s younger days. He liked seeing her energetic and a little wild. And frankly, I don’t think he was the only one who did.

“Oh, right. Sorry, Alfred!” Catherine smiled sweetly and shook off her hands before taking a seat next to her cousin Thomas.

Martha rolled her eyes at Catherine. “The useless one of the family just arrived.” she muttered under her breath. “Can’t even eat my meal in peace.” She sighed and grumbled.

Across the table sat her oldest uncle, Dick, and his wife, Barbara. Her cousin Martha was sitting with her parents, sipping on coffee. In front of Martha sat her younger uncles Tim and Damian, Tim’s partner Stephanie, and her little cousin Tiffany. Thomas and Catherine’s only aunt, Cassandra, was sitting beside her. Cassandra’s husband, Raymond, was a mysterious and quiet man—he always seemed to feel like a burden within his wife’s family. Raymond was not a favored son-in-law in Bruce’s eyes. Quite the opposite, Bruce had forced Cassandra to sign documents making sure their son, Thomas, carried the Wayne surname instead of Raymond’s. Bruce didn’t want to tarnish the name that had once belonged to his own father.

Bruce’s care for Cassandra was admirable, but his peculiar resentment—and simultaneous dependence—on Raymond was undeniable. It was as if the three of them were hiding something from everyone else. Even Thomas seemed unaware.

Since the moment Catherine had walked in, Dick couldn’t help but notice how beautiful and sweet his niece had grown up to be. Catherine knew her eldest uncle adored her and paid her extra attention. From what she’d heard, it was because she reminded everyone of her father—despite being a girl.

“How are you today, Cat?” Dick asked.

“Thanks for asking, uncle. I’m doing pretty great. And I’m sure I’ll be even better thanks to Alfred’s amazing pancakes.” Catherine smiled and threw in a bright little joke. “But what about you? You’re still at breakfast, so… no work today?”

“Actually, I’ve got the day off today.” Dick said as he gently ruffled Martha’s hair, smiling. The love he had for his daughter was evident—but it was just as clear that he held Catherine in the same regard. They were both his girls, through and through.

“And what about you, Uncle Timothy?” Catherine turned to Tim. She’d gotten used to seeing Dick take days off—he was rich and, well, a bit carefree. She didn’t want to describe her uncle like that, but he was one of those people who valued family more than work, which made him a good guy… just a lazy one. Running both a police precinct and a company at once wasn’t much of a challenge when you had enough money to pay people to do most of it for you.

Tim, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. A total workaholic. And despite being in his mid-twenties, he was as punctual and sharp as they came. Catherine definitely loved her Uncle Tim the most… or maybe Damian had taken the top spot recently. Hard to say.

“I’ll be at the company today, Catherine.” Tim replied. Then, turning to Dick, he narrowed his eyes a bit. “Someone’s got to clean up the mess left behind when people keep skipping out.” His tone was teasing but had a hint of truth to it, which only made Dick laugh.

“You work way too much,” Stephanie chimed in while feeding little Tiffany in her lap. “B said we might be ready for a second kid. I was thinking of naming her Tiana!” she added with a playful giggle.

“We should probably make sure our first one survives childhood first,” Tim said flatly. “Maybe we should wait until Tiffany is Martha’s age. Then, with the advancement of selective birth technologies, we could just choose the gender next time and optimize our parenting efforts.” He said it like it was the most logical, obvious plan in the world. Everyone else, however, had already accepted that Tim wasn’t just the smartest in the family—he was also definitely the most unhinged.

Stephanie smacked her forehead. “Why did I even marry you?”

“I keep asking myself the same question.” Tim muttered under his breath.

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!?” Stephanie smacked Tim hard on the head, and the others had to cover their mouths to keep from laughing.

Dick turned to his sister, trying to keep his voice low. “Are you okay, Cassandra?” he asked. Lately, Raymond had barely been coming to the manor, and it was likely they had had an argument. “If Ray said something to you again—”

Cassandra gently raised her hand and cut Dick off. “You don’t need to worry about me, you know I can put him in his place. We’re fine—for now at least, there’s nothing special going on. For the sake of Thomas’s peaceful and loving future, we both have to suppress our feelings.”

Thomas looked away as his mother spoke. He had always been a quiet child—quieter even than Cassandra and Raymond. When Thomas was first born, he didn’t speak until he was five, and Bruce had eventually taken him to a child psychiatrist. Although they had feared Thomas might be mute or deaf, it turned out he was simply very asocial. And the ones responsible for that were his parents, Cassandra and Raymond. Neither of them had established proper communication with Thomas nor valued his emotions until now. When Bruce learned this, he had a stern talk with Cassandra and asked her to divorce Raymond. It had been a failure on both parents' parts, but Bruce held only Raymond accountable. For the first time, Cassandra stood up to Bruce and refused the divorce for Thomas’s sake. Even though it would have worked in her favor, she didn’t want her son to be damaged by a broken marriage.

Dick sighed and looked away. Just then, Martha gently dabbed her mouth with a napkin and stood up. “Daddy dearest, isn’t there something important you wanted to talk about today?” she spoke with her usual spoiled and self-satisfied tone.

“Right. How could I forget?” Dick smiled and wrapped an arm around Barbara’s shoulders. “Today is my dear daughter’s eighteenth birthday.”

“Oh, that’s right, how could I forget. Happy birthday, Martha.” Stephanie smiled warmly and clapped for Martha like she was a little kid. “You never grow up—I swear, it feels like just yesterday you were six years old.”

“Tell me about it. She never grew up at all.” Barbara gently stroked Martha’s hair and looked at her with eyes full of love. “Seeing my daughter grow up like this is the greatest treasure for me. I wish every mother could have that.”

“Happy birthday, Martha. I got you a Rose Quartz pink Rolls-Royce Spectre for your eighteenth. Should be parked in the garden.” Damian spoke as if he were commenting on the weather, without looking up from his newspaper.

Martha’s eyes sparkled. “UNCLE!!! YOU’RE THE BEST!!”

Dick put a hand to his forehead, and Barbara rolled her eyes. It was no secret that Damian constantly spoiled his nieces and nephews, but it was definitely a terrible parenting method from a parental perspective. Barbara couldn’t help but respond. “Martha doesn’t even have a driver’s license, Damian. I told you not to buy her expensive and unnecessary things like this. You could’ve just gotten her a simple MacBook.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, she doesn’t need a license. You could just make a fake one for her if she wants. Don’t act like you haven’t been doing illegal stuff as a hacker for years, Gordon.”

“What if she hits someone? How will you take responsibility for that?” Dick crossed his arms and sighed. His little brother clearly hadn’t grown up at all.

“That depends on the criminal record of the person she hits. And if their family’s dumb enough to be bought, problem solved. Martha’s a Wayne—she has the freedom to do whatever she wants.” Damian spoke casually.

“Yes! Hear that, Gotham!” Martha grinned smugly. As the first grandchild of the Wayne family, she had always had the privilege of getting whatever she wanted. At just five years old, she’d had a pure white horse—and then had it dyed pink. She had definitely been raised spoiled. At eight, she’d carried on the Robin legacy and joined every operation she wanted. She walked over to Damian. “I love you so much, uncle!”

“I love you too, Martha.” Damian spoke while still focused on his newspaper, as always—but the sincerity in his words was unmistakable. He loved his family. Catherine, Thomas, Tiffany. And even his older brother Jason, who was still in the psychiatric hospital.

Cassandra giggled. “Well, actually, I was thinking of getting a car too, but instead, I decided to name a star after her. It was Thomas’s idea.” Cassandra ruffled her son’s hair and smiled, then pulled a star certificate out of her pocket. “You’re now one of the stars in the sky, Martha Mary Loyd Wayne.”

Martha rolled her eyes as she looked at the certificate. “Well, that’s cool. But what am I supposed to do with it?” She shrugged. She didn’t understand how thoughtful and beautiful it actually was.

Catherine looked at Martha. “Seriously? Do you even realize how meaningful it is to have a star named after you? She could’ve just given you a car you’d never even use, but instead, my aunt chose to do something thoughtful.”

“Why are you even inserting yourself into our conversation!?” Martha looked at Catherine like she was a stain. “You’re just a burden. Maybe we’ve been too nice to you just because you don’t have a mom and dad?”

“Martha!” Barbara turned to her daughter with fury. “Apologize to your cousin. Right now!”

Martha rolled her eyes. “Why do I have to apologize? She’s useless, she doesn’t contribute anything to this family, and we’re supposed to look after her? Disgusting.” She crossed her arms and mocked her. “It’s nothing but nonsense. Stupid.”

Barbara turned to Dick. “Say something!”

Dick sighed. He hated doing this every time because he wasn’t a man who liked getting angry. “Martha Mary Loyd Wayne! Apologize to your cousin immediately!”

“Why do I have to do it? I’m older than her, she should be the one apologizing to me.” Martha shrugged. The hatred and disgust she felt toward her cousin were clearly visible on her face. There were plenty of reasons she hated Catherine. After all, Martha was the only one among them who had actually met Jason. She loved her uncle Jason and admired him. But she had heard the rest of it—the stories. She had seen how Jason had tried to burn Catherine when she was a baby. Catherine was nothing but a cursed, dangerous abomination.

Catherine stood up and didn’t wait for Martha’s insincere apology. “She’s right. I don’t want her to apologize to me.” Catherine said. “She should apologize to Aunt Cassandra instead.” Her brows furrowed.

Cassandra put her hand to her forehead. “I don’t think we need to make a big deal out of this. I’ll just get Martha something nicer. Let the star be a keepsake, alright?” she said, waving her hand gently and dismissively. She could always buy Martha something more expensive, but she had chosen to give her something meaningful instead, to avoid spoiling her like the others did. She still wasn’t good at child psychology. She couldn’t understand her own son, let alone her niece. Was she truly a terrible mother?

Dick turned to Cassandra. “That’s not necessary. Martha crossed a line—her being this spoiled is my fault.”

“I’m sorry.” Martha said. Apologizing to Cassandra was easier than apologizing to Catherine. This was her way of avoiding things. Even though the apology wasn’t heartfelt, the others still looked quite pleased and relieved to hear it.

Stephanie brought her fist to her mouth and coughed lightly. “Now that we've settled that, how about the birthday girl gets the rest of her presents at tonight's party?” she chuckled, trying to ease the tension, and ruffled Tiffany’s hair.

“Present!!” Tiffany babbled with a laugh.

Dick stood up. “I think that’s a better option. I have a special gift for Martha, too, and it’ll be better if she waits for it.” He walked over to his daughter and kissed her on the forehead. “Wait a little while until your grandfather arrives, okay? You’re a big girl now.”

Martha nodded indifferently. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “I already invited a few people from New Young Justice to the manor anyway.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Who did you invite? Did you get Grandpa’s permission?”

“He approves of whoever I invite. Mind your own business, Thomas.” Martha stuck her tongue out and flipped him off. Thomas grumbled in response. He knew Martha had built a solid team within Young Justice ever since she became Robin. “Wendy and Walker West, Lian Harper, Alexios Trevor, and my most important guest—Cullen Kent—are coming.” Martha couldn’t help but smile.

Wendy and Walker were the children of Linda Park and Wally West. Wendy was the same age as Martha and had been training to become the next Flash. She was Martha’s first and closest friend, mainly because their fathers had always been so close. Walker was Thomas’s age, and the two of them were somewhat close as well.

Lian was Roy Harper’s beloved daughter, and the oldest among them. She was in her early twenties and known by her hero name Rouge, a flawless archer. She had never been particularly close to Martha—Martha always saw herself as better than everyone else, and Lian found that incredibly annoying.

Alexios Trevor, son of Diana and Steve, was known as Wonder Boy. Martha didn’t like him much; Alexios—or Alex, as they called him—was undeniably full of himself. He was actually a lot like Martha, which made it unbearable for her. She felt like strangling the guy.

And then there was Cullen Kent, son of Jonathan Kent, who was in turn the son of the original Superman, Clark Kent. Being third-generation Kryptonian, he wasn’t as powerful—but he was stoic, brooding, and prone to intense anger. No one liked dealing with him when he lost his temper.

A sly grin spread across Martha’s face as she curled her hand into a fist. “Today, just like my dad did when he turned eighteen, I’m choosing my own hero name. And I’m doing it in front of Cullen.” she said as she watched her friends entering the manor through the window, smiling deviously. “Everyone’s going to see who they’re really dealing with. I’m not going to be Girl Wonder or Robin anymore. My new name is…”

Phoenix.