Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Princess Leta of Themyscira only knew a few things: how to fight, how to kill, and that the world of man was evil and tainted.

All of this had been taught to her by her grandmother, the mighty and wise Queen Hippolyta. The young princess never doubted her word; what reason would she have to? After all, Man's World had stolen her mother from her. The land outside of their paradise island didn't deserve their compassion or sympathy. Her mother had gone to help them and it had cost her her life.

No, Leta never doubted the word of her grandmother... Except for the times that she did.

According to Queen Hippolyta, she had been born on Themyscira just before her mother's death. But... that didn't seem right. She didn't recall much other than living on the island, but whispers of memories did appear in her dreams.

Sometimes, she would see her mother who was very much alive. She was beautiful and kind and strong and she knew that was her mother because who else could look so much like her? Other times, she would see a man. And this man wasn't vicious or ruthless or cruel like the other Amazons described. No, this man would hold her, talk to her, sing to her.

The thought of him made her heart swell with something she couldn't describe.

But Leta had learned to never say these things to her grandmother. Whenever she did, she was shouted at and thrown into a small, dark room for days at a time. She was given no food and little water. Nowadays, she never even had to say anything, her grandmother had learned to pick up on when such thoughts had been in her head.

"Foolish, child!" Hippolyta would scold when she was finally released. "These are the same thoughts that took your mother's life! She allowed her heart to make witless decisions that cost her everything! Do you want to end up as she did? Foolhardy, forgotten, dead?"

There were a million things Leta would yearn to screech back. She wanted to shout that her mother had been amazing and smart. She wanted to scream that her mother would never be forgotten as long as she held on to her memories that had been deemed nothing but delusion. She wanted to howl that she hadn't done anything wrong in the first place.

But every time, Leta would bow her head. "Of course not, Grandmother," she would respond, her voice shaky and bland and broken. "Please forgive me for my transgressions. It won't happen again."

Hippolyta would nod curtly. "See that it doesn't," she would hiss. "Now, go meet Artemis for your training."

And that would be the end of it. Until next time, of course.

OoOoOo

Leta didn't know how it happened. One moment, she was in the middle of sparring with Artemis and the next all-out war had erupted.

Well, a war might have been an exaggeration. However, she could tell that something had vexed the other Amazons. Even Alexa, who she had never even seen with a weapon, had picked up a bow and arrow and charged. Before she could get a look at what was going on, Artemis had scooped her up and dragged her toward the palace.

"Artemis, wait!" she protested, struggling against the redheaded woman. The angry war cries of the Amazons thundered in her ears. "What's happening?"

"That is none of your concern," Artemis, who had always spoken kindly to her, snapped. She all but kicked the castle doors open before delivering her into the throne room. "Stay here with the queen and do not come out until she says so."

Leta crossed her arms and almost stamped her foot. "As your princess, I demand to know what's happening!" she tried. Although, that wasn't going to do anything and they both knew it. She held no authority, her title as Princess of Themyscira was just that; a title. She wasn't the true princess, that honor belonged to her mother.

Leta was just what she left behind.

Artemis nearly rolled her eyes. "Stay, Leta," she ordered before rushing out. Leta glared after her retreating form. She suddenly decided that Alexa was her favorite of the two sisters.

"This is what you so desperately seek."

Leta jumped; she had forgotten that her grandmother was also in the room. She turned apprehensively before tentatively joining the queen's side. "Pardon me, Grandmother?" she inquired politely. She had no idea what the woman was talking about.

Queen Hippolyta gestured out to the window, which displayed their beautiful island and the destruction and violence it now held. "These intruders are from Man's World," she explained, her eyes narrowed with a hatred so intense that it made Leta flinch. "In fact, they are the sole reason for your mother's demise."

Leta squinted, trying to make out the figures. There seemed to be six of them in total, but they held the force of an entire army. They had to if they were facing the Amazons. From what she could tell, they were all men except for a winged figure in the air who possessed a feminine shape. The sight of them made something churn in the young girl's stomach. "Who are they?" she asked curiously. She felt an odd sense of... familiarity?

But how could that be possible? She had never set foot off the island and she was sure that the Amazons would never let them onto the island.

Her grandmother was quiet for a moment. "They are fools for daring to come back," she finally answered. She suddenly turned on her heel, her white royal chiton billowing behind her.

"Grandmother-" began Leta, ready to follow her.

"You are to stay here, Leta," commanded Hippolyta before she got the chance. Her voice was harsh, the harshest she had ever heard it. "If I find you out there, I will not hesitate to lock you in the Black Room."

Leta flinched, the threat filling her with dread. She couldn't go back in there, not so soon after her last punishment. She nodded her agreement before resigning herself to the corner of the throne room. She ignored the curiosity that was clawing at her and sat down on the floor, hugging her knees.

Did she have any other choice?

OoOoOo

It couldn't have been any more than an hour since her grandmother left when she heard someone enter the palace. Their footsteps all but pounded into the floor, echoing throughout the castle.

Leta's heart pounded against her chest as she drew herself inward. Either her grandmother was very angry or the intruders had found a way in. Her fingers trembled as she braced herself for the inevitable confrontation. "Hera, help me," she prayed, hoping her goddess would hear it. She never thought that the outside world would reach their shores.

The door finally burst open and there stood a man. She knew it was a man because he was unlike anyone she'd ever seen before with broad shoulders and a wide chest. He was dressed in black and gray and was wearing something over his face that concealed it from her. The top of it reminded her of bat ears.

Leta couldn't entirely tell because of the white slits, but his eyes seemed to be trained on her as he talked toward her. She staggered back, her training seemingly abandoning her as he approached. "S-Stay away," she ordered, but it came out more like a plea.

It was no surprise that no one respected her because that was pathetic. She closed her eyes, waiting for the eventual hit.

But the man didn't attack her. Instead, he dropped onto his knees so that he was on her level. "Leta," he spoke. His voice was deep and rough but something about it filled her with a sense of longing.

Leta peered up at him with narrowed eyes. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice much stronger this time. She gathered every ounce of her royal upbringing and presence to look straight at him. She wasn't going to cower in front of this man; she was an Amazon and an Amazon feared no one.

The man wordlessly reached up to pull his mask from his face.

Instantly, Leta knew who was in front of her. This was the man who haunted her treacherous dreams. This was the man who would sing to her and play with her and talk to her. This was the man whose image would bring her comfort whenever she was locked in that Hades-forsaken room and was on death's door.

She stood up and walked over to his kneeling figure. "Daddy," she recalled involuntarily, tears welling in her eyes as everything came back to her.

She hadn't been born on Themyscira. She hadn't lived here her whole life and her mother hadn't died shortly after giving birth to her. Her grandmother had been feeding her lies all this time. She had lived in Man's World with her mother... and her father. The man in front of her wasn't going to hurt her. He was there to save her. He was her father.

Leta threw herself into his arms, clutching his suit. She buried her face into his chest, sobbing loudly as his large arms enveloped her. He gently rocked her back and forth, softly shushing her. "I'm here," he promised her. "I'm here."

"Unhand my granddaughter this instant!" She tensed, the angry voice of her grandmother reaching her ears. The queen was the angriest she had ever seen her and there was a very large sword in her hands. "Bruce Wayne, I will not hesitate to end your life for trespassing on my island and daring to touch the princess!"

Her father very nearly growled before setting her down. His gloved fists were clenched at his sides and his jaw was clenched. She took a moment to realize that she couldn't recall him being this angry either. He said nothing, just pulled out a strange, bat-shaped weapon.

"So be it," Hippolyta hissed, charging forward. But before she could get near him, there was a crash and the other five figures from before appeared. All at once, Leta could now place names to their faces. Aunt Shayera, Uncle Clark, Uncle John, Uncle Barry, and Uncle J'onn. They were all here and they were here for her.

Aunt Shayera dove forward, stopping right in front of her grandmother's face. "I suggest you let us leave, lady," she snapped, her mace crackling with energy at her side. Her wings were flared in irritation. "You tore my goddaughter away from us for two years and no one here is very happy about that. I assure you that everyone here will fight with everything they have until we bring her home."

Uncle Barry zipped right to her side. "Looks like you have two options here," he announced, his usual friendly tone gone. "You can either let us bring her home peacefully or we can call in reinforcement. Meaning more men on your little island."

Queen Hippolyta was fuming by now. "How dare you! I will have you all rotting in cells for this! Do you under-!" She was cut off by a large glowing green baseball to the head, rendering her unconscious. Everyone immediately looked to Uncle John.

He shrugged. "What? You all can't tell me that she wasn't getting on your nerves too." He smiled down at Leta and winked. "Besides, we have a little princess to get home."

Leta smiled back and allowed her father to pick her up again. She buried her face in the crook of his neck as he carried her to an awaiting aircraft. There were a ton of things she could worry about like the other Amazons regaining consciousness and attacking or her grandmother retaliating to get her back. But those fears were overshadowed by the assurance that she was with her father once more.

She was finally going home.

Chapter Text

Failure.

The shame of his faults burned Damian as his mother dragged him away from his fallen grandfather. He clenched his jaw, trying to erase the image from his head. If only he had fought harder. He could have finished Slade and been done with it. Instead, he had allowed his grandfather's life to wither away to nothing. He didn't deserve to be the heir to the League of Assassins.

"Stop moping, Damian," chided his mother. Though, her green eyes didn't spare him a glance as they stayed trained onto the water in front of them. "We can't dwell on the past."

Damian crossed his arms, annoyed. How could she be so calm? His grandfather was dead. He was never coming back and they were to blame. They had failed to protect him. He thought about saying as much to her but decided against it. "Where are we going?" he demanded instead. She still hadn't told him where she was taking him.

Talia sighed, turning to face him slightly. "Do you remember what I've told you about your father?" she inquired. He noticed her rigid posture when she mentioned his father.

The boy nodded, only because she hadn't ever said much. All she had ever told him was that his father was a tall, looming, intelligent man known as The Batman, a vigilante in Gotham City. She had always said that he was to be just like him and eventually inherit the Wayne line as well as the al Ghul one. That was it, nothing more and nothing less. Damian had taken pride in it.

His mother put the boat on autopilot and spun around to face him fully. "Well, you are going to have to remain in Gotham with him for the time being," she told him, her forehead creasing with annoyance. "Though, there is a slight altercation that I'd hadn't noticed until recently."

It must have been well-hidden if his mother hadn't found out. "What is it?"

Talia scowled slightly before turning away from him. "The princess," she all but snarled and he couldn't tell if she was talking to herself or him. "He sired a daughter with the princess."

Damian suddenly felt like someone had kicked his chest. "Daughter?" he repeated. He had always been told that he was his father's only blood child. How could his mother have missed this? He felt a stab of anger; no mere child was going to take what was his. He was to carry the Wayne line, he was to inherit the Wayne business.

This would not stand.

OoOoOo

"Remember, this is not temporary," his mother reminded him as she rang the doorbell. Wayne Manor was enormous, though only compared to the other living spaces in Gotham. The League of Assassins base in Nanda Parbat was much bigger, though that was to be expected. "I will come to collect you once is it safe for us to return. Until then, I would attempt to gain your father's trust."

Damian almost sneered. "What about the girl?" he questioned. He was irritated that his father had felt the need to have another child. Wasn't he enough? Yes, his mother hadn't told his father of his existence, but still. He didn't want her around and he was going to prove to his father that he didn't need her.

Talia didn't look at him. "What about the girl?" she snapped irritably. Damian shut his mouth.

The large oak door suddenly swung open and he was met with a pair of wide, blue eyes. They were confused staring at him, but he saw the recognition when they settled on his mother. "May I help you?" she questioned, her face twisted in mistrust. Obviously, she couldn't decide whether they were trustworthy or not.

He almost rolled his eyes; amateur. Didn't she know that no one was trustworthy?

His mother forced a smile onto her face. "You must be Leta," she said, her voice straining to stay polite. Leta. So that was the name of his enemy. "Is your... father home?" Damian almost seethed at the treachery. Her father? How could those words even leave his mother's mouth?

The girl with her tan skin and dark hair and blue eyes looked up at his mother. "That depends," she replied, her eyes narrowed. "Are you going to hurt him?"

He would have leaped forward if not for his mother's hand gripping his shoulder. The insolence of this child! "Of course not," she assured the girl. "I just have some matters to discuss with him." Leta looked like she was going to respond when she was interrupted.

"Leta, what have I told you about answering the door?" came a deep, baritone voice. And there he was, the fabled Bruce Wayne. The Dark Knight of Gotham City. The Batman. His father. The similarities between them were not lost on Damian, but neither were the differences. His eyes were an emerald green like his mother's whereas his father's were a dark cobalt blue. His own skin was much darker than his father's as well due to the locations of his upbringing.

Leta's eyes were blue but were the wrong shade. They were a light sapphire as opposed to his father's. Her skin was darker than both of theirs, taking on a rich olive color. In fact, the only thing she seemed to take from the Wayne line was their shared nose, Damian noticed with satisfaction.

The girl's entire expression changed as she flushed in embarrassment. "Apologies, Father," she amended, bowing her head slightly. She shuffled behind him, making herself scarce. Good.

His father's eyes settled on them but shared the same mistrust as the girl. "Talia," he greeted tersely. "What do you want?"

His mother's smile turned genuine. "Beloved," she addressed warmly. "How I've missed you." Her mouth formed a grim line as their situation seemed to weigh on her yet again. "Unfortunately, this is far from a social visit. I do not have much time to explain, but I need your help." She nudged him forward. "Your son needs your help."

Bruce Wayne tensed, his eyes darting between them. "Is this a joke?" he demanded, crossing his arms. Damian's jaw clenched at the implication. How could he believe that the mongrel cowering behind him- who looked nothing like him- was his offspring, but not him?

Talia's eyes turned slightly cold. "Can you really deny him?" she bit back. "Look at him; he is almost your exact carbon copy."

Damian felt a bit smug; the same couldn't be said for the girl. "Don't be so surprised, Father," he chastised. "I thought you would be taller."

OoOoOo

Leta, for the most part, stayed away from him and Damian was glad for that. It was good that she knew where she stood. Pennyworth- despite his sarcasm- was nice to have around. Though, it was disheartening to know that his father only kept one servant around. He was a billionaire, was he not? His father, for the most part, was always concerned with other things.

The worst part about his stay in Gotham was that he was forced to attend Gotham Academy along with Leta. His classmates were nothing short of mindless idiots who ate paste of all things. Whatever his teachers were teaching he had known before he could walk.

School was definitely a huge waste of time.

He had protested vehemently against attending but was denied every time. His father's reasoning was that the public couldn't grow suspicious. But who cared what the public thought? They were all morons.

Still, there was nothing he could do about it, so Damian eventually stopped complaining.

OoOoOo

It was around two months after his arrival that he and Leta engaged in their first crucial argument.

Usually, she made a point of ignoring his scathing words and it infuriated him to no end. At first, it had been fine because he figured she knew not to talk back to her superiors. But then he had realized that she didn't care about what he said. His words were so meaningless to her that she didn't see the point of acknowledging them. He knew this because he had noticed her rolling her eyes.

Insolent child.

"The line is my birthright," Damian hissed at her one day as they passed one another in the halls. "I'm his son." His logic was flawed, he knew, because it didn't matter that he was the son. She was older than him. Still, he would not give up so easily. He was to manage Wayne Enterprises. He was to be the heir of both lines. This had been his destiny for his entire life. No one was going to take that from him. "You are nothing."

Leta merely rolled her eyes and continued walking.

"My mother is Talia al Ghul," he informed her retreating form. "And my grandfather is the great Ra's al Ghul." 'Was,' he reminded himself but didn't dare to make the correction out loud.

She stopped and turned, but her expression remained completely neutral. "I'm well aware," she retorted. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but seemed to decide against it as she turned back around.

Damian felt anger bubbling within him. How dare she turn her back on him. How dare she dismiss his lineage, his family. This impertinent child was not going to get away with that. Did she not realize who was standing in front of her? He was the heir to the League of Assassins and he would not allow a bastard child to disrespect him.

"And what alleyway did your mother crawl out of?" he demanded. The girl ceased her departure and Damian nearly smirked. He had her. "Was she a beggar on the street?"

Leta whirled around, her sapphire eyes alight with a fire he had never seen from her. "Shut up," she hissed at him, vexation dripping from her tone.

Damian shrugged nonchalantly. "Of course, she was likely a Gotham harlot," he reasoned. He didn't think he was too far off, either. How good could her mother be compared to his own? He must have been close because he could see the girl's anger rising with his every word. "Father must have taken pity on her. Why else would he take her in? Of course, she must have repaid him the only way she knew-"

She leaped at him.

He couldn't process what was happening as Leta tackled him to the floor. She swung at viciously at him, her punches hitting harder than they should have for a girl her age. He was so shocked by her outburst that it took him a moment to respond. He quickly regained her senses and sent a swift kick to her chest, knocking her off him. He scrambled to his feet, taking his stance.

If she wanted a fight, he would give her a fight.

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" she shouted at him as he sent various hit his way. He dodged most of them, but a few did manage to catch him. He retaliated with some of his own and most landed, but she hardly seemed to notice. Punching her was like ramming his fist against a steel wall.

What on earth was she?

"My mother was not a harlot or a beggar!" continued Leta. She seemed to become even angrier as she talked. "She was a great woman, greater than yours could ever hope to be!"

Damian, enraged at the jab, sent a kick to her shin. This made her stumble a bit and he saw his opening. He flung his fist at her jaw, but she caught it and flipped him onto his back. He made sure to grab hold of her, taking her down with him. "How dare yo-"

They were no longer fighting how they had been taught. They were more or less wrestling on the floor with no structure or stances. "No!" Leta interrupted. "How dare you! My mother was Diana of Themyscira, you ignorant cretin!"

He growled back. "Should that mean something to me?" He had never heard of Themyscira in his life. She must have made the place up to atone for her lack of origin.

She huffed in frustration. "She was the Princess of the Amazons, impudent brat!" she clarified in a tone that reminded him of his own. She pushed herself off of him, but still glared daggers at him.

Amazons? He racked his brain as he stood, trying to place memory to the word. He vaguely recalled his grandfather mentioning how an Amazon had finally revealed herself after centuries of the race staying hidden. He had seemed to hold them in high regard.

"What on earth is going on here?" a voice boomed. They both tensed and turned to see the angry expression of their father. In all of Damian's time in Wayne Manor, he had never seen his father angry at either of them. He glanced at the girl next to him; she was sporting scratches from where he had attacked her as his punches had been useless. He, himself, felt a bruise blooming on his cheek and other small, minor injuries.

Before he could say anything, Leta spoke. "Hello, Father," she greeted pleasantly, her entire demeanor changing. "Damian and I were just sparring a little. I asked him to, I wanted to see where he was." She looked a bit sheepish. "It got a little out of hand. I apologize."

Bruce turned to him. "Is this true, Damian?"

Damian assessed the situation before him. He could say that the savage next to him had just attacked him, but she could easily bring up what he had said about her mother. He wasn't sure of his father's relation to her mother, but he wasn't sure he wanted to take that chance. "Of course, Father," he agreed.

He looked between them before nodding. "Alright," he accepted. Though, Damian had a feeling that he didn't believe them at all. "Leta, you know that sparring is to be done in the cave."

Leta sighed. "Apologies," she repeated.

Bruce nodded. "As long as you understand what you did wrong." He stalked away from them. Damian had a feeling that he had no idea how to discipline Leta, let alone him.

Once he was gone, Damian's eyes met his sister's. It was at that moment that one thing was clear. They weren't friends and they didn't like each other. But they shared blood, which would always connect them. Whether they liked it or not.

From that moment onward, they were allies.

Chapter Text

In retrospect, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Stephanie Brown gazed up at the two heroes, who were staring her down. Redbird's arms were crossed over his chest, the lenses in his mask narrowed to slits. Right, he was obviously not happy. Fury stood next to him and even though she wore no mask (seriously, how did no one know her identity?), her expression was nearly impossible to read.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Redbird suddenly, bringing Stephanie back to the present.

Right, she hadn't told them her name. She thought about not telling them anything, but something told her not to deceive Batman's right and left hands. "St- Spoiler," she corrected quickly, cursing herself for her slip-up. "My name is Spoiler."

She had thought the name was pretty clever. Her dad thought he was so smart by dropping his clues. Fine. She could be smart too. Since she had found out her dad had returned to crime (after swearing that he had stopped after being released from prison, the bastard), Stephanie had dedicated herself to spoiling his plans. For the past few weeks, she had been leaving clues for Batman, Fury, and Redbird.

She just hadn't counted on Redbird and Fury confronting her as she placed the final clue to this particular operation.

They had shown up out of nowhere, honestly. She had turned for one moment and the next thing she knew they were standing in front of her. And, well, there they were.

Fury raised an eyebrow at her. "Am I right to assume that you're the one who had been leaving us those hints about Cluemaster?" she guessed. The girl had a touch of an accent, though Stephanie couldn't quite place it.

Stephanie- Spoiler- straightened her shoulders. "I am," she confirmed. This was it; she could prove to Batman's proteges that she could help them take down her dad! "I, uh, really want to take him down, you know?"

"Tt," scoffed Redbird, uncrossing his arms and approaching her. "And why should we believe you? For all we know, you could be working for him."

Fury laid a hand on his shoulder. "I believe her," she told him. Her eyes were trained on Spoiler as she said this. They were a very pretty blue and filled her with familiarity. She had seen those eyes before, but her mind was drawing up blanks for some reason.

He looked at her, incredulous. "Just like that?" he demanded.

"Just like that." She raised an eyebrow as if daring him to question her.

Stephanie imagined that Redbird was rolling his eyes. "Gullible," he remarked, not at all phased by her challenge.

Fury shrugged. "Perhaps," she agreed. She turned to look at her and Stephanie suddenly remembered who she was dealing with.

Batman, Redbird, and Fury were all rumored to have a way they dealt with the scum of Gotham. Batman was harsh but quick, always ending things as quickly as he could. Redbird reveled in fighting and enjoyed making his victims suffer as much as possible. Fury liked to completely overpower her enemies before dealing the final blow.

Stephanie shivered; she just hoped she would never be caught on the bad end of either of them. Though, something told her that she was teetering near the edge with Redbird.

"Spoiler," spoke Fury, catching her attention. "Your intelligence had been correct thus far. If we can catch Clumaster tonight, we can incarcerate him again. Would you care to join us?"

"What?" exclaimed Spoiler and Redbird at the same time. Stephanie didn't think she'd heard her right. Fury wanted her to join them? And, okay, maybe it was only because of the information she held, but still. Maybe she could convince them that she was good enough to work with them!

Too many families were being broken up because of people like her dad. She wanted it to stop. And maybe Batman's crusade was a meaningless one- many adults had said so- but here they were. Trying. Wasn't that what mattered? If they could try, couldn't she try too?

"Are you stupid?" Redbird hissed at her. "Batman would never allow this."

"No, he would not," agreed Fury with a slight grimace. She gestured to Stephanie. "But we need a lead and she has the entire race in the bag."

"I am fairly certain that you did not use that expression right."

She shrugged at him once more. "I make my own expressions," she replied nonchalantly.

Stephanie watched them with a grin. They were both so cool, but it was nice to see that they bickered. They weren't just masks, they were people. And, well, if they could do it, shouldn't she be able to?

She looked up at Fury who wasn't exactly smiling but seemed to regard her kindly. "Let's do this." Confidence shielded her heart as she said this and at that moment, Stephanie believed she was ready for anything. The three of them took off into the dark of the night.

By the end of the evening, her dad was behind bars.

OoOoOo

In retrospect, being given a scholarship to Gotham Academy should have drawn more suspicion.

But Stephanie and her mom were just so overwhelmed at the opportunity she had been given. Gotham Academy was the most prestigious school in the city. All the wealthiest business owners sent their kids there. She could hardly imagine herself walking among them. She was quick to accept, more than eager to leave Gotham Middle School.

She liked school, but the other kids were brutal. They all grew up on the streets, like her, so a lot of them were criminals in the making. It was disheartening to know that they would undoubtedly turn to crime.

At least she knew that Gotham Academy kids couldn't hurt her, even if they wanted to.

Stephanie was glad for her chance to create a better life for herself. Perhaps the deeds of her father didn't have to haunt her for the rest of her life. Maybe she could make a name for herself that separated her from him.

Whatever had given her this gift, she wasn't going to question it.

OoOoOo

Okay, this was so not how she imagined her first week going.

Yet here she was, shoved into a janitor's closet with Leta and Damian Wayne of all people. Leta was somehow pacing calmly and Damian's hands twitched as if they were looking for something to do. Stephanie sat on the floor, watching the two teenagers who she was confined with. There was something so eerily familiar about them, she just couldn't place it.

"Whatever was it that possessed you to bring the brat with us?" Damian finally snapped at his sister.

Stephanie frowned at being called a brat. She happened to think she was very mature for her age. "Hey, I'm not the billionaire here," she protested, a little insulted. She didn't know much about these two other than the fact that they were Bruce Wayne's children and they belonged to the upper part of the school.

She had to agree with Damian though. Why, out of all the children around them, had Leta grabbed her? It seemed just a little bit random.

Of course, third-rate goons showing up and holding an entire school for ransom was pretty random too. Though, Stephanie found it just a little underwhelming. Maybe that was because she had faced goons like them already as Spoiler.

"She can help," Leta said simply, her accent just barely noticeable. It was a hard accent to place. In fact, she didn't think she'd heard anything like it before. It definitely wasn't Asian and she sincerely doubted it was Hispanic. Maybe European?

Damian cocked an eyebrow. "You want to do this?" he challenged. "Right now? You know Father will have your head."

His sister just barely rolled her eyes. "I will deal with Father," she assured him. "But right now, we have work to do, do we not?"

He glared at her for a moment before sighing. "As long as you're prepared for the repercussions," he agreed begrudgingly. He turned to her and she found herself startled by how green his eyes were. "Brown, do you have your suit with you?"

Stephanie balked. "Uh, what?" she mumbled dumbly. He wasn't referring to her spoiler suit, was he? He couldn't be! She wasn't even a well-known vigilante, how could they-?

Wait.

The blond looked again at Leta's piercing sapphire eyes. She had seen those eyes before. They belonged to an unmasked face that had confronted her almost a month ago. She took in Damian's arrogant, graceful posture and it was confirmed. Leta and Damian Wayne were Fury and Redbird. Which meant Bruce Wayne was Batman.

"Holy sh-"

Leta placed a finger to her lips. "Language," she chided, winking. "But we really should get going. Do you have your suit on you?"

"I-In my locker," Stephanie answered dumbly. There was no way she was going to process all of this today. Perhaps it would hit her next week or something.

The older girl thought about this for a moment. "Then we had better go get it," she decided. "Though, we will have to be careful. I suspect that they are roaming the halls looking for students they missed." She bit her lip, obviously thinking.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Look up, moron," he snapped, pointing to the ceiling. Both girls followed his gaze to see the air vent.

Leta beamed. "Great idea, little brother," she commended. She gave him a big kiss on his cheek that Stephanie was sure she did to embarrass him rather than show affection.

The teenage boy wiped his cheek, glaring daggers at her. "Next time you do that, I will gouge your eyes out," he threatened. Though, as he said this, his cheeks turned a rosy red and Stephanie had to cover her laugh with a cough.

"Alright, let's move out," commanded Leta. She flew up to the vent (so the rumors about her being a meta were true) and pulled it open. Damian jumped into it and Stephanie followed (though she had to be pulled up by both of them). They crawled away to get her suit.

The school was saved within the hour.

OoOoOo

Leta was grounded for the two months, both in and out of suit. Although, she didn't seem to mind too much. Whenever Stephanie asked why she wasn't upset, she would reply, "He sees you now. That's all that matters." When she questioned Damian on it later, he merely replied, "It's only because you're a girl." She had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

It was the month after Leta's punishment she got to see the Batcave (which was the coolest). It was the following week that Batman agreed to train her. It was almost a year later when she was finally allowed onto the streets.

She had decided to hang Spoiler up. Spoiler's purpose had been to spoil her dad's criminal activities. But now that he was in jail again, she felt as though fighting as Spoiler would be less satisfying. She needed a new name.

"Tt," scoffed Damian when Bruce announced she was ready. "And what will her name be? Batgirl?" She could never tell if Damian didn't like her specifically or if he just had a general hatred of the human race. Maybe it was both.

Stephanie, annoyed, crossed her arms. "Maybe I will," she snapped. But hey, Batgirl wasn't too bad. Maybe it was unoriginal, but it was straight and to the point. Besides, everyone would know who her team was.

Leta- who had more or less adopted her (figuratively, of course)- gave her a thumbs-up. "Nice," was all she said.

And, well, if she spent the majority of her time at Wayne Manor that was no one's business. And if her mother had overdosed on antidepressants, she never told a soul. And if Bruce had decided to take her in as a ward, well, they could read all about it in the tabloids.

Chapter Text

Timothy Drake liked to think he was a very observant boy.

Really, he didn't think many people paid attention to the distinct way Leta and Damian Wayne spoke. The Wayne heiress had a hint of an unidentified accent. It wasn't very strong, but it was noticeable when you paid attention. Her brother's speech- while lacking an accent- was very proper and sharp with a biting edge to them. He meant was he said and made sure his words stung.

These were both traits he had picked up in both Fury and Redbird respectively.

Tim was seven when he'd first seen all three heroes in the flesh. Redbird was poised and succinct, Fury was graceful and effortless, and Batman was pertinent resilient. The three of them had apprehended the Penguin easily when he had threatened the country he and his parents were occupying. Something about Redbird's threats and Fury's wit had stuck with him.

It was several months later when they had attended a charity event hosted by Bruce Wayne.

In all honesty, he would have never been able to connect the playboy billionaire to the fearsome Dark Knight. It was a genius move, really, the way he separated both personas so drastically. If it wasn't for his children, he never would have suspected it.

It was then that Tim had started to track the three heroes' every move. Well, every move he could. It was hard to keep up with three vigilantes sometimes, but he managed to get a few good pictures. He had been thrown for a loop when Batgirl joined them years later. But then he learned that Mr. Wayne had taken in a girl named Stephanie Brown and it all clicked.

Things seemed to be going well for a long time. With the four of them- Batman, Redbird, Fury, and Batgirl- patrolling the streets, Gotham's crime rate had gone down exponentially. Criminals were either thrown in jail or too scared of the foursome to dare go out onto the streets.

On the other side, Mr. Wayne had opened up a recreation center to give children something to do other than roam the streets. It stopped a lot of youths at risk of being mixed up with the wrong crowd.

Yes, everything was going well... until Redbird disappeared.

Thankfully, the vigilante wasn't dead. The news hadn't said anything about it and there were rumors that he had moved out of Wayne Manor. The general consensus was that he'd gotten in a fight with his sister over their inheritance.

Tim seriously doubted that. In fact, he doubted that Damian Wayne wanted anything to do with the Bruce Wayne side of things. He didn't think the young man had the patience. His sister might not have either, but she was a lot less expressive about it.

But things definitely took a turn for the worse on the streets.

It was said to be that Fury was a meta (Tim actually had photographic proof of that), but it was all but confirmed now. Where she used to take her time, she now ended things quickly. All it took was one hit from her to rupture someone's jaw. She was angry, that much was obvious.

Batman wasn't doing much better either. He lacked more patience than ever; his hits getting harder and his threats becoming deadlier. He wasn't as violent as his daughter, but he was getting close.

Batgirl seemed to be the only thing bringing them back to themselves.

This couldn't go on. Fury's uncontrolled rage alone would be enough to lead to "accidents." But Batman losing control... He would end up betraying everything he stood for. Tim knew he couldn't let that happen. He was the only one who knew and he was the only one who could do anything.

So, he did.

OoOoOo

Honestly, he had no idea what he was doing here.

Tim shuffled on his feet, gripping the strap of his backpack. Right, so it was probably tacky bringing his backpack along, but he had just gotten out of school! Besides, it wasn't like they were going to care, right? They were billionaires, they had much bigger things to worry about. Though, that begged the question: Why would they care about what he had to say?

He stared up at the dark, looming manor. It was the largest house he had ever seen. His parents were well-off, sure, but Bruce Wayne was filthy rich. Well, it explained how Batman had gotten all his tech.

Well, there was no going back now. The worst they could do was turn him away.

Taking a deep breath, Tim gathered the courage to ring the doorbell.

He expected the Waynes' butler, Alfred, to answer. Instead, it was a pretty girl about his age with long blond hair and blue eyes. She peered at him curiously, obviously recognizing him, but unable to place a name to his face. "Can I help you?" she asked.

Instantly, Tim knew she was Stephanie Brown. "Hey," he greeted, his voice cracking slightly in his nervousness. "I'm, uh, here to see Bruce Wayne." He thought about this. "Or... or Leta Wayne. Whichever one is available. I..." He didn't even know where he was going with this.

Stephanie stared at him, probably trying to decipher if he was a threat. "Who are you?" she demanded, an eyebrow raised.

He wanted to smack himself upside the head. Of course, she wanted to know who wanted to come into her house. For all she knew, he could be a villain trying to gather intelligence! "Uh, Tim," he answered quickly. "Tim Drake."

"Stephanie, who is at the door?" He would know that hint of an accent anywhere. Tim swallowed thickly as his gaze drifted up to meet the sapphire eyes of Leta Wayne. She stared down at him, her height making it so that she towered over both him and Stephanie. She regarded him. "Timothy Drake."

Tim blinked in surprise. "Y-You know me?" he stuttered. He hadn't expected anyone here to actually know his name. He wasn't exactly from Gotham's First Families like the woman standing in front of him.

Leta gave him a small smile that didn't come close to meeting her eyes. "Your parents attended our charity ball last spring," she recalled. "Your mother spoke very highly of you."

Well, that was news to him. After all, Janet and Jack Drake never stayed in Gotham long enough to see him for more than a few days at a time. He did, however, remember the event she was talking about. He hadn't gone because his parents had gone straight to the ball from the airport and there had been no time to bring him along.

Of course, it didn't surprise him that this mother had been the one to talk to Leta. She had a habit of appealing to the wives and daughters of potential business partners. His father, on the other hand, would chat the men themselves up and put them at ease. It was how they worked.

Leta cocked a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Was there something you needed?" she asked, not unkindly.

"I need you to go back to the way you were!" blurted Tim before he could stop himself. He didn't know what other way he could have said it without sounding weird. Though, he had managed to do that anyway.

Stephanie looked at him with wide-eyed confusion, but Leta perfectly understood what he meant. Her jaw clenched and her fingers curled into fists at her sides. For a moment, he was scared that she would hit him.

Instead, Leta took a deep breath and peered down at him with narrowed blue eyes. "Why don't you come inside?" she suggested tersely.

OoOoOo

"Alfred's gone to the market for the afternoon," Leta informed him as she handed both him and Stephanie a cup of tea. "so you won't get the chance to try his magnificent tea. I hope you'll find mine sufficient enough." The woman's expression was blank as she said this as if she was processing what was going on around her. At least, that was what he thought. She was hard to read.

Tim took a sip and tried to stop himself from gagging. It was bitter. "It's great," he lied through his teeth.

Stephanie, however, actually did gag. "Leta, you didn't add enough water," she complained. "And really? No sugar? Gross." She stood up and traversed into the kitchen, intent on getting sugar for her tea.

Although, they may have just been her excuse to evade the tension in the room.

The woman just shrugged at that. "I prefer my tea bitter." She turned her attention back to Tim. "How did you find out?"

Tim mustered up all the courage he had as he faced one of the deadliest people in the city. "Your speech pattern," he told her. "Yours and Damian's. No one else in the city talks like you two." He shifted in his seat. "What is your accent, anyway? I've never heard anything like it and-"

"Unimportant," Leta interrupted him and Tim closed his mouth. "Timothy, you seem like an intelligent boy. Why have you sought me out today?"

He felt his stomach roll nervously. Here it was, the moment of truth. Just a reminder to himself; she had the strength to launch him out of the nearest window. "Well, it's just, I noticed that Redbird isn't here anymore." Her face soured and he felt a flash a fear; what if Damian really had died and they were trying to cover it up. "I don't know what happened..."

"My brother isn't dead," she assured him. Her face was twisted into a scowl. "Though, I'm sure he would rather be than spend another moment with us."

So, Damian had run away. Interesting. "I just... I noticed that you and Batman have gotten harsher lately," he informed her. "You guys are taking out your anger on criminals. Not even big criminals, third-rate ones and petty thieves and I... I don't want you guys to cross that line!"

She blinked at him. "What?"

Tim gulped. "I don't want one of you to kill someone," he said, the words rushing out of his mouth.

Leta tilted her head as she processed his words. There was a pregnant pause as he sat there across from her anxiously. "I wouldn't," she said quietly, making him look up at her. She stood up and put her heart over her chest. "Timothy Drake, I swear on my mother and all that she stood for that I will never cross that line. You have my word. I apologize if my actions made you think otherwise."

The weight of her words settled over him as he took in her oath. He vaguely wondered who her mother was, maybe another hero? He would have to look into it. "And... Batman?"

"What about Batman?" growled a new voice.

Tim jumped as his head snapped up to meet the cold, cobalt eyes of Bruce Wayne. Shit.

OoOoOo

When Tim had been thoroughly removed from Wayne Manor, he had thought that was the last time he would ever hear from them. Apparently, he was wrong.

Stephanie Brown had shown up at his house more than a week later. "Leta likes you," she informed him simply as she invited herself in. She was still in her Gotham Academy uniform. Unlike most of the girls who attended, she wore shorts under the skirt. "And I think you're pretty smart." Her pretty bluebell eyes were boring into his.

He slowly closed the door behind him, never taking his eyes off the girl in front of him. "Okay...?" She was definitely an odd one, though he had no room to talk. Who else spent seven years stalking four vigilantes?

She rocked on her feet. "You should hang around the Manor," she recommended. "B-man'll be more open to you joining the team if he's already used to you."

Tim recalled the way the man had all but thrown him out the week prior. "Yeah, I don't think so," he replied dryly. "Besides, I'm not trying to join." He had only made contact with his heroes to let them know they were pushing too close. He had no interest in becoming a hero. Definitely not. No matter how cool it looked, it wasn't worth the risk.

He definitely didn't have his own persona and everything.

Definitely.

Stephanie must have sensed his bull because she snorted. "You can't tell me that you weren't trying to impress them," she stated. And yeah, she kind of had him there. Really, who else would have deduced their identities the way he had? They at least had to have noticed his intelligence.

Tim merely shrugged. "Doesn't mean I want to be like them," he retorted.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes it does," she affirmed, leaning against the wall with a smirk on her face. "Trust me, kid, I was just like you. I did everything I could for them to notice me and it paid off. You can't tell me you don't want the same."

He swallowed thickly. "I'm not trying to be a hero," he insisted, his voice weak. Though, he was a bit put-out at being called 'kid.' She couldn't have been that much older than him.

Stephanie cocked a knowing eyebrow. "Yes you are," she retorted, crossing her arms. "You just confronted Fury and freaking Batman because you thought they weren't sticking to their morals. That's someone determined to do the right thing."

"That doesn't make me a hero." He was just a concerned citizen, that was all.

The blond shrugged. "But that's how it always starts," countered.

She definitely had him there.

OoOoOo

Stephanie had acquired the habit of dragging him to Wayne Manor whenever he was given the chance. Tim never fought it, enjoying the excuse to be there every once in a while. The two of them had worked out some sort of friendship. It was nice, having a friend. Spending his entire life alone had become a bleak turnout now that he had a companion.

Over time, Leta had warmed up to him as well and that led to Alfred and Bruce following soon after. This prompted him to come over of his own accord. Soon enough, he started staying overnight. It wasn't irregular to find him there ninety percent of the week.

One day, Leta had demanded that he start training. Her reasoning was that villains who did know their identities (she didn't specify who) would notice him hanging around. She insisted that he should know how to defend himself should one of these enemies attack. No one dared to protest. No one wanted to.

Tim had learned from Alfred, Bruce, and her. Stephanie had even helped out a few times. It was six months later that he was nearly ready. It was six months and one week later that he lost his mother and his father slipped into a coma. It was six months and three weeks later that he officially moved into the room he had been sleeping in.

It was seven months later that he took to the streets not as Redbird, but as Robin.

Chapter Text

There was little Cassandra Cain knew more than eating, sleeping, fighting, and obeying.

She compliantly bowed her head as her father gave her orders. She was to slay the eldest child of Bruce Wayne. Her existence was an embarrassment and slander on the al Ghul name. The daughter of the Demon Head could not let this stand and her father had volunteered her. It was to be her first real kill after her first test when she was much younger.

What she had done terrified her when she closed her eyes. She could still see the crimson blood pooled around him, could envision his lifeless eyes boring into hers. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that she felt the exact moment he died. She had felt it as he had.

Life, draining away as he had desperately reached toward it. She could still remember the excruciating pain and sadness he had experienced. It was the worse feeling she had ever experienced. She never wanted to do that again. Life was precious and she knew it was not to be taken carelessly.

She had tried to run, but she had been caught before getting even three miles. She had been punished for her transgressions as her father had attempted to stamp the weakness out of her. David Cane did not like to be disobeyed.

And now she was ready. Her father had made it clear that should she fail, she would not be let go so easily.

She would have to complete her mission, no matter.

OoOoOo

Cassandra watched from her place in the shadows. The three targets entered the hall, walking briskly and diligently. She studied each of them individually, her eyes never leaving their forms. The girl with light hair was confident in her movements and possessed courage, unlike most others. The boy was cautious but diligent and she could see an intelligent mind when she saw one. The tall woman with dark hair stood in the middle, her steps steady but determined.

She immediately knew that this was her target. Leta Wayne, the obstacle to the heir of the Demon Head. The others, she knew, were Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake respectively. Her orders weren't specified with them.

Wayne suddenly stopped, holding her arms out to halt her allies. Her eyes darted around, obviously trying to pick her out. Cassandra drew further into the shadows, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

She knew what move the woman would make before she made it.

Cassandra leaped to the side, evading the woman's approach. If Wayne was surprised, she didn't show it. Instead, she continued her onslaught as she continued to advance. Cassandra easily dodged, the woman's moves strong and diligent but ultimately predictable.

Just as everyone else's was.

Drake and Brown attempted to come to her aid. The boy took out a metal bo staff as the girl withdrew her own weapons. Cassandra darted below Brown's sharp-edged weapons and grabbed Drake's staff. She swung the staff, effectively throwing the boy into Brown. They both fell on top of one another and grunted in pain.

Wayne took this as her chance to advance once more. She had begun to quicken her pace as she jabbed at her. It seemed a bit harder to dodge, but not impossible and Cassandra managed it. She finally saw an opening on the strong woman and caught her in the chin with her fist. Wayne hissed in pain and Cassandra used the distraction to send a kick to her stomach.

The woman grunted and quickly grabbed her ankle. Cassandra was ready for this and anchored herself off Wayne's stomach before nicking her in the shoulder. Wayne grunted but did not fall. Instead, she gave a curt nod.

Cassandra furrowed her eyebrows. She could tell that she was giving a signal, but for who? Brown and Drake were out of commission. They hadn't entered with anybody else. So who would she be signaling? Unless... She quickly turned around but was hit with a smoke bomb. Everything began to go fuzzy.

The last thing she saw was two white eyes staring down at her.

OoOoOo

Why hadn't they killed her?

It was a question weighing on Cassandra's mind as she wandered Wayne Manor. It had been months since her capture and no one had made a move against her. Stephanie Brown and Timothy Drake talker pleasantly with her. Bruce Wayne had actually given her a nice room and new clothes and had allowed her to eat with them. The butler- Alfred Pennyworth, a man she had the feeling carried the weight of the family- referred to her as "Miss Casandra" and asked if she needed anything.

And Leta Wayne (the woman she had attempted to assassinate and who should want to return the favor) had nothing but a smile for her.

With the League of Assassins, prisoners were interrogated gruesomely. Depending on the rate of the prisoner, they were either killed after all the information was seeped out of them or held in a cell to rot until they were useful again.

But that wasn't happening here. She was fed, clothed, and treated with kindness and respect. This didn't feel right, but she felt... Safe? Content? She couldn't tell.

Cassandra suddenly found herself staring at the Wayne family portraits. The first was Bruce and his parents when he was a boy. He had a large grin on his face and she could tell he was bright and happy. It was a stark contrast to how he was now; stoic and grim.

After that portrait, there was a visible time gap in the next one. Bruce was an adult now, his mouth pressed into a thin line and his eyes dark. Beside him stood a young Leta, her eyes much too dull to belong to a normal child. Cassandra could see past that, though. She could see the pain and guilt lying behind those sapphire orbs.

She would know.

The next portrait held Bruce, a slightly older Leta, and a new face. Damian, Talia's son, was there and he did not look happy. The pain in Leta's eyes had lessened somewhat and the corners of her mouth were somewhat upturned. Damian was almost scowling and Bruce had hands rested on both their shoulders. Cassandra could tell that this was soon after Talia had given him up.

The following picture held Bruce, Damian, Leta, and a young Stephanie. Stephanie was grinning widely and she seemed to brighten up the mood. Bruce and Damian weren't smiling, but their expressions were much lighter. Leta was smiling this time, though it wasn't nearly as wide as Stephanie's.

The last portrait was missing Damian and the tone seemed to have soured a bit. Leta's mouth was twisted back into a frown and Stephanie's entire demeanor had changed. She was still smiling, but not nearly as brightly. Beside her stood Timothy, though he looked more anxious than anything. Bruce was definitely tense and had put a good distance between him and the other three.

There were no more portraits after.

Still, despite their problems, they were a family. Cassandra had never gotten to experience that. She was almost envious as she gazed at them.

"Not my best picture, I'll admit it." Cassandra nearly jumped as she whirled around to face Timothy. His blue eyes were young but intelligent as he regarded her. "But can you blame me? I was a wreck."

She gazed at him, comprehending what he was saying but not knowing how to respond. She couldn't talk. She didn't know why, but she had never been able to. Everything she ever had done was wired to fighting.

Timothy didn't seem to mind her silence. "I really thought they'd wipe my memory or something," he continued. "But they didn't and I have Steph to thank for that." The boy stopped for a moment as he studied her. "You know, Leta doesn't hate you. I think she gets it."

Cassandra took that into consideration. She hadn't thought the woman hated her, but how could that be? She had made an attempt on her life, the woman should want vengeance.

"We knew you were the one targeting her," Timothy went on. "Your dad sent us a video of... Well, we all agreed that we would get you away from the League as soon as possible." His voice quieted. "It's not your fault, I hope you know that."

She inhaled sharply, her victim's tortured face flashing in her head. Not her fault? How couldn't it be her fault? She had been the one to end that man's life, no one else. She alone was responsible for his death.

"Tim's right, you know." Stephanie was approaching, her friendly smile plastered onto her face. She appreciated the other girl for the sole fact that she was so bright. Bright hair, bright eyes, bright smile; she seemed to stick out in the dark manor. "Your dad's a dick; I should know, mine was one too. Anyway, Le isn't one to hold a grudge."

Timothy nodded in agreement. "She offered herself up as bait to apprehend you," he informed her. "I think she knew what she was getting into."

Stephanie linked her arm with hers. "Anyway, Cass," she began. Right, the girl had insisted on a nickname for her. She didn't see the appeal, but whatever made the blond happy. "I convinced Bruce to let us bring you into town. You in?"

Cassandra bit her lip. She hadn't been out of the manor since her apprehension. A part of her was yearning to leave the confines of the large building, another part was screaming that she couldn't trust herself. What if she hurt someone? What if this was all a test? Or worse, what if this was a trap? But Stephanie's hopeful face won out and she nodded.

Stephanie's face lit up. "Great!" she exclaimed, tugging her along. Cass couldn't find it in herself to resist.

OoOoOo

It was later that night that Cassandra came upon Leta and Bruce talking in hushed voices in the den.

"She's very good," Leta praised, her head resting in her palm. The girl was dressed in her nightclothes, her long dark hair tied up into a bun. "One of the best fighters I've ever seen. It was as if she knew my every move before even I did." She bit her lip in thought. "In a fair fight, I'm almost positive she would beat me." The woman glanced up at her father. "I'm fairly certain she could beat you, Father."

Though she knew her actions were wrong, Cassandra couldn't help a flush of pride. It was nice to know that someone held her skills in such high regard. It felt good to hear praise instead of criticism.

Bruce seemed to contemplate her words. "She functions differently from us," he concluded. "The function in her brain that usually enables one to talk is honed in on her skills. I'm almost certain that's why she's so quiet, she simply can't speak."

Well, that made sense. She still didn't get the logistics of it all, but it explained why she wasn't able to talk or read or write like everyone else. She didn't read words, she read people.

Leta scoffed, shaking her head. "It's barbaric, what they've done to her," she bit out angrily. "Cain took away her childhood, her entire life all for the sake of making her into a weapon." She could sense the rising emotions within the woman; rage, anxiety, fear. Her fists clenched at her sides. "She was a little girl and he used her. He instilled things into her head, manipulated her emotions and thoughts! He put her through hell. How could someone do that to their own granddaughter-!"

She clamped her mouth shut.

Bruce's attention snapped to his daughter. "Granddaughter?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. Cassandra immediately caught what he meant: David Cane was her father, not her grandfather.

Leta closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. "I meant daughter," she amended quickly, opening them slowly. "How could someone do that to their own daughter?" But Cassandra knew what she meant. Because she hadn't been talking about Cassandra for a moment.

She had been talking about herself.

He reached out to her. "Leta-" he attempted.

But she shuffled away from him. "I should go check in with Timothy," she decided. "He wanted my help with his science fair project and I do not want to disappoint him." She fled up the stairs before he could get another word in.

If Cassandra were anyone else, she wouldn't have seen how hurt Bruce was by this action.

OoOoOo

It was months later when Cassandra had taken up the mantle of Batgirl from Stephanie.

It was also months after that when she once again found herself in Nanda Parbat. She had some business with the League of Assassins. No one knew she was there, though she had her suspicions that Stephanie was onto her. But that was fine because this wouldn't take long. She doubted that anyone would realize she was gone. She just wanted to get her point across.

She found Talia's quarters quite easily. It was in the same place it had always been and her memory had never failed her. She infiltrated the chambers quickly and quietly and no one was the wiser.

She flung one of her throwing stars at the brunette's head, startling her. "Wha-?" But she didn't get the chance to finish her sentence before Cassandra was on top of her. She wasn't going to hurt the woman, she just had a warning. Her English wasn't that great, but it would work for this.

She leaned in close to Talia's face.

"Stay away from my family," she growled and Cassandra Cain fled the League of Assassins for the last time.

Chapter Text

Alright, so stealing the tires off of the Batmobile wasn't his smartest decision. Jason Todd would be the first to admit that.

"You know, I don't think anyone's ever done this before," jeered the woman who had cuffed him to a lamp post. She had long blond hair, but her face was obscured by a mask. The rest of her head was hidden by a purple hood that matched the rest of her suit. "You're smart enough to take the tires off and stupid enough to do it. That's got to be a new record."

He glared up at her. "Screw you," he snapped, more than a little embarrassed. He had gotten caught and by Spoiler no less! Though, he supposed he ought to be thankful. It could have been Fury or worse: Batman. He didn't want to be on either of their bad sides, especially not now.

Even on the streets, people talked. Word around town was that Batman and Fury were going ballistic on even low ranking criminals and it wasn't hard to figure out why.

Robin. No one had seen him on the streets in months. Rumor had it that the kid had been abducted by the Joker. He didn't know everything, only that Joker and Harley had tortured the poor kid. And there was no doubt about it, the Bats were pissed.

And he didn't think it was a coincidence when Joker ended up dead. Although, no one knew if it was Batman, Batgirl, Fury, or Spoiler who had done it. Though, his bet was on Fury.

Speaking of Spoiler, the blond woman shrugged at him. "Learn to take the compliment, kid," she replied nonchalantly. She seemed to study him for a moment. "Hey, are you hurt?"

If his arms had been free, Jason would have crossed them. "What's it to ya?" he demanded, ignoring the searing pain in his leg. He had grown up on the streets, so he knew what it meant when someone was concerned. They usually wanted something from him. People knew when you were at your lowest and they knew when you were the most desperate. It was easy to take advantage of that.

She shrugged again. "Just thought you wanted some help," she replied. "I have a friend, you know. A doctor. She has a free clinic not too far from here."

Jason didn't trust doctors. They were too nosy. Besides, they had to report to child services and the orphanages in Gotham were full. He was not going to juvie. He knew kids who had come from there and he knew how they treated their charges. He wasn't going there if it was the last thing he did.

Spoiler must have sensed his apprehension. "I won't tell her I found you on the streets," she swore. "Bat's honor. But she'll fix up your leg for you."

How had she-? Right, she was a Bat. He wondered vaguely if he should take her up on her offer. Jason may have been tough, but he wasn't stupid enough to pass up medical attention free of risk. "Fine," he agreed begrudgingly. "But you can't tell Batman I tried to snag his tires."

He couldn't tell, but he assumed Spoiler rolled her eyes under her mask. "You think Batman doesn't have cameras? How do you think I knew to find you?"

Well, shit.

OoOoOo

As far as doctors went, Leslie Thompkins was alright.

She was a nice lady and pretty funny too. She had stitched up his leg (he had gotten caught by a metal pipe a few weeks ago) and given him ibuprofen for the pain. After everything, she had given him a lollipop ("It helps with the pain," she had told him. "Definitely not because you're a kid") and told him to come back anytime he needed to.

Spoiler stayed with him the entire time. "So, kid, where you off to?" she asked.

Jason looked at her for a moment (was that a Narrows accent he detected?) and thought. He didn't have anywhere to go, but he wasn't about to tell her that. "I'll be around," he answered cryptically.

She didn't look like she believed him but didn't comment. "Alright then," she accepted. "I'll see you around, Jason." She raised her grappling hook and took off into the night.

It took about two minutes for him to realize he hadn't told her his name.

OoOoOo

It was a month later when he had found the Bats again. Or rather, they'd found him.

This time, all of them were there. Batgirl and Spoiler were handling a drug cartel in one of the dock warehouses. It must have been serious if all four of them were there. Though, that didn't surprise him. This new experimental drug, shade, was supposed to be a dangerous mix. He didn't know the specifics, but he did know that it messed things up in your body faster than most drugs.

And what was Jason's dumbass doing there? Preparing to sell the shit.

It filled him with some sort of shame. His mom had overdosed after his dad's death a few years back. He had promised himself that he would never contribute to another child going through that and yet here he was. This was how he knew he had really hit the lowest point in his life.

He was no better than his father.

Jason couldn't help but watch as they effortlessly took down the men firing at them. There was really no question as to why they were so feared in Gotham. Though, he could see that Robin's fate had affected them. Batgirl was harsh and Spoiler...

Spoiler just seemed tired.

They made quick work of the goons before they finally turned their attention to him. Jason jumped slightly, the intensity of their gazes boring into his soul. "Jeez, I'm sorry, okay?" he said quickly. He may have been tough, but he wasn't stupid. He had, after all, just seen what they had done to everyone else. "I know it was dumb. Hand me in or whatever, just don't pummel me like ya did those guys!"

Spoiler laughed. "We aren't gonna pummel you, Jay," she assured him. "And we won't turn you in either. I think we can just let you off with a warning." She glanced over to the other girl. "That work for you, Batgirl?"

Batgirl just nodded.

Spoiler turned back to him and he hated that he couldn't see even part of her face. "Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?" she asked in what seemed like concern. "It's a little cold out."

Well, no shit. It was no secret that Gotham winters were brutal. But he didn't see how it was any of her business. He was fine. Lucky for him, he had a nice little park bench and newspapers to cover himself with.

He really was at his lowest point.

Jason sighed. "Whatcha got, blondie?"

For the first time, Spoiler frowned at him. "Right, that's not sticking."

OoOoOo

If Jason had known that Spoiler was going to drop him off at Bruce Wayne's, he would have taken the park bench.

And, okay, he didn't have anything against the Waynes per se, but they were rich folk. He didn't trust rich folk as far as he could throw them. Though, he would say that he appreciated Wayne's efforts to keep kids like him off the streets. Unfortunately, having something to do didn't make money. Those rec centers weren't going to put food in his stomach.

But it wasn't as though he really had any other option, so Jason stayed put. What idiot would pass up three meals a day and a stable roof over their head? Certainly not him.

The only ones who talked to him were Alfred and Steph anyway. Wayne was always busy and Leta had only spoken a few words to him in the span of a week. Cass was pretty cool, though she wasn't one for conversation.

It was late at night when Jason found himself heading to the kitchen. Hey, if he was going to be living in a manor he was going to make the most out of midnight snacks. His ear twitched, hushed voices from the kitchen sounding through the manor.

"God, would it kill you to be cordial?" That sounded like Steph.

"I haven't said anything unkind." Must have been Leta. He hadn't heard her talk much, but he would know that hint of an accent anywhere.

"No, but giving him the cold shoulder is definitely worse." Alright, they were definitely talking about him. Should he have been flattered?

"I don't have anything against him," Leta insisted. He could hear the defense harden her voice. "And it wasn't like I received a warning from you two. Forgive me if I was unprepared by our sudden house guest." Ouch. Though, he could see why his sudden appearance would make her apprehensive. At least she was being honest about it.

"You are so irritating!" exclaimed Stephanie out of frustration. "You didn't act this way when Tim first came around!"

Silence. From what Jason could remember about Timothy Drake, the kid had run off almost a year ago. Or something like that, he wasn't invested in the lives of socialites. It must have been a sore subject in the house.

He heard Stephanie take a deep breath. "Sorry," she attempted to amend. From the regret in her voice, he could tell she hadn't meant to say that. "I shouldn't have- That was a low blow. I'm sorry."

"Just drop it, Stephanie," was Leta's clipped response. Her tone told him that she wasn't about to admit how much that hurt.

"He's here," a different voice cut in. Holy shit, was that Cass? She could speak?

Leta was suddenly in front of him, her blue eyes boring into his own. She didn't seem angry that he had been spying, but then again he wouldn't have known. Her face was almost completely blank. "Jason," she greeted with a nod. "Hello."

He waved. "Sup?"

For a moment, she looked unsure of what to do. She glanced at Stephanie who just raised an eyebrow on her. The woman hummed in thought before gesturing to the kitchen. "Would you like to join us?" she offered. "We managed to save some of Alfred's brownies from earlier."

Alfred, he had learned, was a god in the kitchen. He would be a fool to turn that down. "Sure," he accepted. He stayed and talked to the three women and found that he actually enjoyed their company. Steph and Leta were hysterical when they argued and Cass' one-liners were like the icing on the cake. He ended up staying with them until midnight.

Okay, maybe rich folks weren't that bad.

OoOoOo

He felt like an absolute idiot for not seeing the signs sooner.

Jason gazed up at Bruce- at Batman- with wide eyes. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed. Usually when he cursed he would get a scolding. No one dared to even chide him this time. "You're the goddamn Batman!" The pieces began to connect in his head. No wonder Spoiler had brought him here, she was Stephanie. "That means Spoiler is Steph, Cass is Batgirl, and Leta is Fury!"

"Excellent deduction, Jason," came the dry quip. The three women entered the cave, Leta being the one who had spoken. "However did you figure?"

He stuck his tongue out at her. "For your information, Le, I happen to be a genius," he retorted. It had taken them a while to get to this point, but he liked to think they were close now. In fact, he liked to think he was close to all three of them. He'd never had older sisters before.

Leta shrugged flippantly at him. "So you say."

Bruce sighed. "Leta," he admonished.

"Father."

Wisely, he chose not to entertain her. Leta wasn't often silly, but when she was she was impossible. Bruce focused his attention on him. "Jason, it was inevitable that you would find out," he began. "But now that you know, what do you think?"

Jason's felt his face slowly break out into a grin. "I think that I'm ready to kick ass," he replied. Really, he had just found out that he lived in a house full of heroes. What else would he do?

"Language," Cass chimed in.

It was several months later that Jason Todd became the second Robin.

Chapter Text

A flying Grayson was never supposed to fall.

Yet, it was happening right in front of him. His father's usually calm expression quickly morphed into panic as his grip on his mother tightened. His mother's eyes met his, wide with worry and despair. "Dick," she uttered lowly. Before he knew what was happening, they were both plummeting to the circus ground. As always, they had performed without a net. He heard the screams of horror from the audience, but only barely. It was as though he was far away; from the circus and everyone else.

He was in shock as Haly climbed up the ladder to collect him. He didn't respond to the circus leader's questions or concerns. He never took his eyes off his parents. Crimson blood pooled around them and their bodies were bent oddly.

He may have only been nine, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what had happened.

They were gone.

OoOoOo

"Grayson! Get up!"

Dick Grayson stirred on the thin cot, his back aching slightly. His eyes focused on the dark, stone walls and he frowned. Every time he woke up, he had hoped that it was a dream. He had hoped that he would wake up to his Mami and Tati smiling over him in their trailer. Of course, that never happened. This was his reality now, a nameless, forgotten orphan. No one was coming for him.

There was a banging on his cell. "Grayson, get the hell up!" one of the guards shouted. "There are some folks who wanna meet you! If you don't get up, I'll send them away!"

Someone was here for him? What did that mean? Anticipation rushed through him. Was he getting adopted?

"Grayson!"

Dick shot up. "Coming!" he called, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. This was his chance, he was finally leaving!

The guard opened the cell and fixed him with a glare. "No funny business, gypsy," he spat. "This is your only chance. Don't fuck it up."

Dick didn't understand most of what he was saying, but 'gypsy' stood out to him. He had been hearing it for weeks and it still managed to bother him. Still, he didn't let that deter him. He was leaving! He hoped they were nice. He hoped they liked him.

OoOoOo

When Dick entered the room, there stood a man and a woman. He instantly recognized them. "Ai fost la înmormântarea lui mami și tati!" he recalled, an instant smile forming on his face. If he had understood correctly at the time, they had paid for it as well. Instantly, he felt a bit more confident. If they had paid for his parents' funeral then surely they would like him.

The guard scowled at him. "English, brat!" he scolded. "No one can understand you." Dick's smile fell, his happiness dimming slightly.

Anger darkened the woman's face. "I can understand him perfectly," she informed the guard coldly. "You can take your leave now. We'll take it from here." She turned to him and a smile graced her face. She was very pretty. "Hello, Richard. My name is Leta."

Dick waved. "H-Hello," he greeted a bit nervously. He glanced at the retreating guard, wondering if he had understood that right. He peered up at her. "Mă poți înțelege?"

Leta nodded, kneeling to his level. "For the most part," she assured him. The kind smile was still on her face. "I'm afraid I can't speak Romanian fluently, but I can comprehend what you're saying."

The man cleared his throat. "Hello, Richard, my name is Bruce Wayne," he introduced, giving a kind smile as well. It wasn't as big as the woman's, but he appreciated the gesture. "I'm so sorry about what happened to your parents."

Dick felt a pang in his heart at the mention of his Mami and Tati. "Miss them," he murmured sadly. He bit his lip, afraid that he was being rude.

But Leta lifted his chin. Her hands were calloused but gentle as she held his face. "And no one could ever replace them," she responded, her voice wavering a bit. "But my father and I have a big family full of love. We would love it if you would become part of that."

He looked up into her pretty blue eyes and saw nothing but compassion. It was right then and there that Dick knew he could trust her. "Okay," he agreed, giving her a small smile.

OoOoOo

Leta allowed him to hold her hand as they approached the large gates. Dick was sure he had never seen a bigger driveway let alone the house. They did have a lot of money, didn't they? Dick didn't care about that, though. He just hoped that everyone else liked him as much as Leta seemed to.

He must have been gripping her hand too hard because Leta gave him a comforting smile. "It's okay to be nervous," she assured him. "But no one here will harm you. You're safe here, Richard. I promise."

Before the three of them even reached the front door, it swung open. A boy a little older than him was there, a big grin on his face. "They're here!" he cheered, making him jump. "Ay, Steph, get the others!"

"Jason, mind your volume," chided Leta, not unkindly. "Come along, Richard." She gently ushered him inside.

Five people were gathered in the living room. Two girls sat on the couch, one with blond hair and one with dark hair. The boy who had answered the door- Jason- was clinging to the arm of a much older boy, talking excitedly. Another boy was leaning against the wall, his eyes narrowed.

"Everyone, this is Richard Grayson," announced Bruce suddenly. He placed his hand on Dick's shoulder and he found that it wasn't unwelcome. "He will be staying with us."

Jason was the first to greet him. "Hiya, Richard!" he welcomed. He appreciated the boy's liveliness, but he wished he wasn't so loud. "The name's Jason. Nice to meet ya!"

The girls were next. "Hi, Richard," addressed the blond, a gentle smile on her face. "I'm Stephanie and this is Cassandra."

"Cass," the other girl corrected quietly with a nod toward him.

Stephanie nodded. "Cass," she amended. She nodded toward the boy Jason had been talking to. "That's Timmy over there." The boy gave him a small smile. "And the grouch in the corner is Damian. Don't mind him."

Dick waved at them. "Hello," he greeted, a bit overwhelmed. There were just so many of them!

"It's been a long day," Bruce announced suddenly. "I'm sure Richard is very tired. Why don't we get him situated? Ti-"

"I'll do it!" volunteered Jason, grabbing his hand. He was tugging Dick up the stairs before anyone could stop him.

OoOoOo

So far, Dick's stay was... nice so far.

Leta and Stephanie were nice and they always made sure that he was comfortable. Cass was quiet but she seemed to like him because she would let him watch TV with her. Jason was loud and talked fast so it was hard to understand him, but he was good for a laugh. Tim was friendly and answered any questions that he had. He didn't see much of Bruce, but he was kind whenever he was. Alfred- the butler- had learned all his favorites in a week and talked to him whenever he had the time.

The only one who didn't bother with him was Damian.

It wasn't that he was mean. He was just... Dismissive? Cold? Dick didn't know the word for it.

He asked Leta about it one day and the woman just sighed. "Damian is... complicated," she admitted, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Try not to take it personally, Richard. I find it best to just ignore him."

Well, it was pretty hard to ignore constant scowling and dirty looks. But Leta hadn't steered him wrong so far. Maybe it was best to take her advice. He didn't want to get on the oldest son's bad side.

OoOoOo

Day by day, his English was getting better.

Leta worked with him every day. English wasn't her first language either, apparently. Well, she had told him it was complicated. He didn't know what she meant by that, but he decided not to ask. Leta seemed like a very private person.

Sometimes, the others would help too. Tim would practice with him and Jason would read to him. Stephanie would have him name various objects around the manor and he occasionally convinced Cass to practice with him. He was feeling more and more confident in the language. Apparently, Leta agreed with him.

"I think you'll be ready for school this year," she announced one day.

Dick dropped his practice card. "School?" he echoed. Why would he have to go to school? They had been doing a great job of teaching him here! Besides, he had never been to a real school before.

"Yes, school," confirmed Leta with a nod. Her eyes danced with amusement. "You have to get an education, Richard. Father and I both agreed that we would send you this fall."

He frowned; she was the only one in the house who still referred to him as Richard (though, he supposed that was better than Damian's bark of 'Grayson'). She said that his nickname was too 'crass.' "What about lessons on the line?" he suggested. Surely, that was much easier than actually attending school!

The woman raised an eyebrow at him. "On the line?" she repeated, confused. Realization settled over her face. "Oh! You mean online. No, that is not an option." Her hand came to rest at the nape of his neck, much like his mother used to. "Richard, you are a bright boy. I refuse to let you become a recluse as the rest of us." She thought for a moment. "Excluding Jason and Stephanie, of course."

Well, Dick didn't know what 'recluse' meant, but he sighed anyway. "Okay," he agreed. Though, he was certain that he didn't have a choice in the matter.

OoOoOo

This was a stupid idea.

But as Dick fled through the streets of Gotham, the logistics of his decision were the last things on his mind. He didn't know where he was going, he just knew that he needed to get out.

He finally stopped, leaning against a nearby building. His heart drummed against his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. He knew that he shouldn't be here. But the manor was just so stuffy. He needed to breathe, to feel the cool night air against his skin. Alfred and Leta and Bruce were going to tear him a new one, but he had to do it.

He had been stuck in that manor for months. He needed this.

Of course, he hadn't counted on an attempted robbery.

"Hands up, kid," bit out a man, gun in hand. Dick's hands immediately went up, eyes trained on the deadly weapon. He had never seen a gun up close before. His hands began to shake slightly as he became more anxious. But he didn't have time to be nervous because the gun was suddenly out of the man's hands. "What the hell? Who-?"

A figure landed in front of him, facing the man. "Just when I assumed the scum in this town couldn't get any lower." The man was on the ground in seconds; Dick barely saw the figure move.

Dick was still staring when the figure turned to him sharply. He was a young, masked man with dark hair and a permanent scowl. A scowl that was ringing a very familiar bell. "Why are you still here?" he snapped. However, as he said this, the masked man appeared to be surprised at the sight of him. "Grayson?"

Dick's mouth dropped open because who else called him Grayson that way? "Damian?" Instantly, the connection was made in his head. He didn't need to be fluent in English to know what this meant.

The Wayne's were the famous Batclan he'd heard resided in Gotham.

Chapter Text

Jason and Richard wouldn't let her out of their sight.

Leta didn't know if it was for their benefit or hers. Still, she allowed them to cling to her as she led them to their rooms. "Come along," she urged them gently, ushering them upstairs. They were distressed; Jason held her hand in a vice grip and Richard's hand trembled with an emotion she couldn't identify. "Jason, I assume you will be sharing a bed with Richard tonight?"

The young teenager nodded but said nothing, his teal eyes focused ahead of him. Leta bit her lip; Jason was never quiet. No matter what, he always had a comment to proclaim or something to share.

But she couldn't blame him. At a time like this, she didn't feel like talking much either.

"I am going to talk with Stephanie and Cassandra," Leta announced once they were outside the youngest's room. "Once you are ready for bed, I will tuck you in." The two boys nodded wordlessly and trekked into the bedroom. She watched them go before making her way to Stephanie's room.

Leta gently rapped her knuckled against the wooden door. She wasn't prepared for this conversation- not in the slightest- but she knew what would happen if she didn't try. Now wasn't the time to lose herself. Right now, Stephanie and Cassandra (and everyone else) needed her.

Cassandra opened the door, her gray eyes blank. She looked up at her for a moment before pointing at the despondent blond. "Sad," she remarked.

The Amazon nodded. "Naturally," she commented, striding into the room. She sat down next to Stephanie and drew her close. The younger woman all but clung to her, just as Richard and Jason had. "I love you, Stephanie." She couldn't let another person slip away without letting them know.

Stephanie buried her face into the crook of her neck. "Love you too," she murmured.

Leta glanced at Cassandra and gestured for her to join them. "Come on," she urged. Cassandra said nothing but nestled into her other side. "This is difficult for all of us." The words sounded forced; it as if she had reheard them. "If either of you needs someone to talk to, don't hesitate to come to me. I'll be there."

The two of them nodded silently and Leta stood up. The woman looked down at their young, round faces and felt a pang in her heart. How would they go on? How was she going to heal her family after a blow this severe?

Unable to stare at their sad expressions any long, Leta retreated down the hall. Passing Timothy's room, the clacking of his keyboard caught her ears. She sighed, knowing she would be unable to ignore this. She gently pushed open the ajar door. "Timothy, shouldn't you be getting ready for bed?" she suggested.

Timothy's typing ceased as he glanced at her with annoyance. "Taking this as a chance to mother us?" he guessed, his tone harsh. "Why don't you deal with your shit first?"

Leta didn't take the bite in his words personally; he was grieving, just like the rest of them. "Timothy, my shit is beyond dealing with," she replied, completely serious.

He turned to face her, surprise evident on his face. His mouth curled into a grin, cruel though it was. The traces of the fourteen-year-old she had met so long ago were hard to see nowadays. "I always knew you weren't as perfect as you had as think," he mocked.

If only he knew. "Get some sleep, Timothy," she advised. She lacked the patience to handle him at times. Sometimes, it was better for both of them if she retreated. "I love you." She swiftly left the room before he could reply.

She made her way back to Richard's room, confident that the boys were finished. She was correct, both boys residing in the large bed. A smile forced its way onto her lips at the sight of them. If only it were under better circumstances.

Leta sat near the foot of the bed. "Goodnight, my birdies," she said tenderly, her heart glowing with affection. She kissed both boys on their foreheads.

Richard looked up at her with his big, cerulean eyes. "Leta, I can't sleep," he bemoaned. He hadn't been this sad since they'd brought him home.

That didn't surprise her. She doubted she would be getting sleep herself. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option for the two boys; she needed them awake and ready for tomorrow.

A distant memory forced itself to the front of her head. She had lost her mother when she was four years old, so she cherished any recollection of her. This one, in particular, had gotten her through her darkest days as a child. Perhaps it could help Richard and Jason as well.

"You know, when I was younger, my mother used to sing me a song." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. She never spoke about her mother; her past was almost taboo. However, she would do anything to ease the pain of her siblings.

She had their full attention now. She could see the shock of her words drift through their youthful faces. "Can you sing it for us?" asked Jason curiously. He hadn't said a word since she had arrived.

"Please?" added Richard, always the polite one. His blue eyes held a spark of light and she would do anything to keep it there.

Leta smiled at them. "Alright," she agreed. She closed her eyes for a moment, holding onto the memory. She remembered her mother's face; beautiful and kind. Her voice had been soft as buttermilk and smooth as silk. Her mother's very presence had emitted light and warmth and Leta felt as though she was a poor substitute.

But it was for her little birds. Leta took a deep breath.

My child, you are loved and you are strong,
So dry your tears and hear my song
You will be safe in my arms
For here you will not be harmed

She smiled as she spotted Richard beginning to drift. To help him, she stroked his nose with her pinkie finger. She watched his eyes focus on her finger before drooping slightly. It wasn't long until he was completely asleep.

Your future is bright my darling child,
Your troubles will soon be reconciled
Sleep safe and sound now my dear,
And my song shall be all you hear

As she finished, Leta turned to Jason whose eyes were wide and awake. "I would at least attempt sleep, Jason," she suggested softly. It bothered her that she didn't know what he was feeling. Jason had always been easy for her to read. "Tomorrow is going to be a rough day."

"So when are Dickie and me leaving?"

Leta blinked with confusion, her eyebrows furrowing. "What?" Perhaps she had heard him wrong.

He huffed, crossing his arms. "The state's gonna take us away," he stated as if it were obvious. "I know you've never been in the system but you have to know that."

She ignored the jab to her 'easy' upbringing. "No one's taking you away, Jason," she assured him. "Richard either for that matter." If anyone tried, she would fight them tooth and nail; no one was taking her boys. Though, she would have to talk with her brother about their father's will.

Jason scoffed. "Yeah right."

Leta grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. "No one is taking you away," she repeated firmly. She knew that things were never constant on the streets, but Jason knew he had stability. They weren't going to abandon him or give him up. "Do you honestly think that Damian or I would allow that?"

He shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I guess not."

She smiled, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. "Good night, Jason. Sleep well." She departed quietly, careful not to wake a sleeping Richard.

She sighed as she closed the door: five down, one to go.

OoOoOo

Damian had hardly left the cave all day.

His tired as scanned the computer for the hundredth time. Nothing had changed within the last hour, but he couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away. He knew that there were things he should be attending to; assisting Leta with their siblings would be preferred. But he wasn't like her. Damian had never mastered her patience or tenderness with the others.

At least this was something he could do. Taking over the mantle of Batman had been instilled in him since birth. There had been no argument, no discussion of who should be the one to bear the cowl. The agreement had been silent but deafening as Damian had donned the suit that night. Leta had nodded her approval, not that he'd wanted it.

Speaking of his sister... "What do you want?" he snapped. He hadn't seen her, but he could hear her heavy footsteps. Later, he would have to talk to her about that.

She handed him a mug. "I brought tea," she announced resolutely. That was the thing about her; he could never phase her. Only their father had ever pierced the armor guarding her emotions. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

Begrudgingly, Damian took the mug. "I'm not going to thank you," he said pointedly.

Leta shrugged, leaning against the desk. "I would be insulted if you did," she flippantly replied. "Jason thinks that he and Richard are going to be taken away." She frowned deeply as she said this, her eyes flashing with apprehension.

"I will take a look at Father's will," he assured her. She would never tell him, but he knew she was worried. "Jason and Richard will stay with us." He searched her face for trepidation and was relieved to find that there was none. He hoped that Father's will was up to date, but he would figure something out if it wasn't. "Father was always prepared and even if he wasn't, I will have Drake take care of it."

Her eyes lowered. "Was," she repeated wistfully. She sighed, standing to her full height. Her eyes were large and sad as she peered down at him. "Damian, what are we going to do?"

Damian looked up at her in surprise. If there was one thing his sister wasn't, it was unsure. Every decision she ever made, she made gracefully and tactfully. "We will take care of our siblings," he comforted her. Or, he tried to. They were a team to the outside world, but internally they had always been at odds. There were layers to his sister that he couldn't begin to imagine. "We will work it out."

Leta stared at him for a moment before looking away. "Timothy worries me," she confessed. "It's like he's falling apart because of Father's death."

There were so many emotions concerning Drake; anger, envy, guilt. "Would you like me to speak with him?" he offered. Of course, he didn't want to, but he was the eldest son. That meant that it was his job to take care of this family.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "No, I will have Stephanie do it," she decided. She didn't say it out loud, but he knew that she didn't want him to talk to the younger man. Drake was a sore subject between the two of them.

The two eldest had only ever had three major quarrels since their first encounter. Two of those quarrels concerned Drake.

Damian glared up at her. "I'm trying, dammit," he snapped. Leta had the incredible capacity to remind him of his mistakes. She could be spiteful when she wanted to be; he supposed that they had that in common. "Must you shove my failures in my face?"

Leta seemed vaguely surprised at his mild outburst. "Brother, I did not mean to make you feel bad," she amended, laying a hand on his shoulder. He could tell that she felt just a bit guilty. "I just suppose that Father's passing..." She paused for a moment, pulling her hand away. "Is hard on all of us."

He nodded. "It is," he agreed. Five years ago, he would have been glad to take the mantle of Batman. It had been his birthright, his goal. It had belonged to him. But now... He would give anything to hand it back to his father. He would give anything for his father to be alive.

But he wasn't and now everything was up to him and Leta.

'Warning: Intruder Alert'

Damian stood so fast that the large chair fell over. Leta immediately tensed, grabbing her sword and slapping on her headpiece. He tugged on his cowl, Batarang in hand. The siblings shared a glance; the cave was an impenetrable fortress. There were retinal scans and required verification codes. Nothing should have been able to get in.

Damian glanced at Leta, who might as well have been a different person. His sister had always been intense, but Fury was on a whole other level. Leta was patient, Fury was agitated. Leta was calm, Fury was angry. Fury was fierce and harsh where Leta was not. The warrior would protect her family at all costs. Any cost.

A man in a mask entered, unmistakable nonchalance radiating off him. He seemed to spot their weapons because he raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, I know what this looks like-"

"Silence," thundered Damian harshly. His eyes narrowed behind the cowl and he added a growl to his voice. This person didn't seem dangerous, but neither had Cassandra when he'd first met her.

Leta pointed her sword at the man. "Come forward slowly," she roared. "Keep your hands up."

"I'm not a threat," the stranger tried. "I just- I have information and-"

"Enough," Damian interrupted. He didn't care what this man had to say; he was a threat to his family. That threat had to be neutralized. "Take off your mask."

The man stared at him for a moment before sighing loudly. "Guess this is happening now. Great. No, that's fine. I guess it's only fair." The man pulled off his mask, revealing the cobalt eyes underneath.

Leta audibly gasped and Damian felt as though he had been kicked by the woman next to him. Standing in front of them was a man with dark hair and fine features. Very familiar fine features.

If Damian hadn't known better, he would have thought that the man standing in front of them was Father. But that was impossible. Father was dead.

"My name is Terry," he introduced. The name wasn't significant in the slightest; it was much too plain to belong to a man who looked like that. "Terry McGinnis. And you're all in danger."