Summary: Bat!sis' life at the manor
All pictures are from pinterest!
A/N: I am soooo sorry this took so long but I hope y'all like it!! I hope I did this justice <3
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Masterlist
When you had finally made it to the docks you scanned the area looking for the familiar red helmet marking Jason. The harbor was nearly empty this late at night. Old cargo containers sat stacked like rusted towers beneath flickering floodlights, the water below dark and restless as waves smacked against the pylons. Somewhere in the distance, metal groaned. A foghorn echoed low across the bay.
Your pulse ticked upward anyway. You stepped farther onto the dock, boots creaking softly against damp wood. “Hood?” Nothing answered except the wind. Your hand instinctively drifted toward the baton at your hip. Every instinct Bruce and Babs had drilled into you screamed trap. Too quiet. Too open. Too easy. Then—
A heavy thud landed behind you. You spun instantly, weapon already halfway raised before you stopped short. Red Hood stood there casually like he hadn’t just nearly taken ten years off your life. Helmet on. Arms crossed over his chest. “You’re jumpy,” his distorted voice crackled through the modulator.
You glared. “You’re an asshole.”
“Hm.” He tilted his head slightly. “Missed you too.”
You hated how quickly relief hit you. Jason stepped closer, boots splashing lightly through shallow rainwater gathered on the dock. “You came fast.”
“You texted me like a serial killer,” you said glaring at him through your mask.
You crossed your arms tightly, trying not to stare too hard at him. Even with the helmet hiding his face, your chest still felt strange looking at him. Wrong and familiar all at once. Like seeing a ghost carrying guns.
“You gonna tell me why I’m here,” you asked, “or was this just your version of emotional terrorism?”
Jason let out a low sound that almost resembled a laugh. “I need help.”
That caught you off guard. You blinked. “What?”
“I need help,” he repeated, sounding mildly annoyed to have to say it twice.
“You?” You stared at him. “Red Hood? Mister ‘I hate my family and don’t need anyone?’”
“Don’t make me regret this already.”
A tiny smile nearly pulled at your mouth before you buried it. Jason glanced toward the far side of the harbor where an old warehouse sat half-hidden behind rows of shipping containers. “There’s a weapons shipment moving through Gotham tomorrow night. Experimental tech. Not Wayne tech,” he added quickly, like he already knew your brain went there first. “Black market stuff. Dangerous enough that I don’t want it hitting the streets.”
Your expression sharpened immediately. “Okay…”
“I’ve been tracking it for weeks. Problem is—” He exhaled sharply. “The people moving it aren’t exactly small-time.”
Jason hesitated just long enough to concern you. Then, “Kobra. Intergang. A splinter cell from the League. maybe”
Your eyebrows shot up. “You’re joking.”
“And you thought this was a one-man job?”
“Yeah, well.” Jason shifted slightly. “I’ve got backup.”
Your eyes narrowed immediately. “Backup?”
Before he could answer, movement dropped from above. You barely had time to react before a massive figure landed on top of one of the nearby containers with enough force to rattle metal. Your body tensed instantly. A huge gray man in Superman’s suit looked down at you with glowing yellow eyes and crossed arms.
“Easy,” Jason muttered. Another figure flipped lightly down beside him seconds later, all black and gold armor and long red hair flowing behind her.
“Oh my god,” you whispered.
The woman smiled brightly. “You must be the sibling.”
Jason groaned immediately. “Artemis.”
“What?” she asked innocently. “You talk about them constantly.”
You stared at Jason in disbelief. “You joined a space gang?”
Artemis snorted loudly while Jason muttered, “I’m leaving you here.”
You looked between all of them again, still trying to process this. The giant gray man, Bizarro, apparently was still staring at you intensely. Not threatening. Just… studying you.
Then suddenly, “tiny bat sibling,” he declared proudly.
You blinked. Jason dragged a hand down his helmet. “Oh my god.” Artemis burst out laughing immediately. And despite everything, despite the tension still lingering painfully between you and Jason, you felt something in your chest loosen for the first time in months.
Jason looked like he regretted texting you already. Artemis stood beside him with her arms crossed, tall and steady beneath the dock lights, while Bizarro loomed near the edge of the shipping container behind them like a silent wall. The three of them together looked deeply out of place in Gotham.
You glanced between them once more before looking back at Jason. “You mind explaining why there’s an Amazon and a literal clone of Superman in Gotham?”
“Bizarro am not Superman,” Bizarro corrected immediately, sounding offended.
Jason rubbed a hand over the front of his helmet. “Can we focus?”
You crossed your arms. “You’re the one who called me here with cryptic murder texts.”
“Because I didn’t have time to explain.”
That caught your attention. Jason rarely sounded rushed. His voice had sharpened now, the sarcasm thinning just enough for you to hear the seriousness underneath it.
Artemis’s expression shifted too, amusement fading. “The shipment moved up,” she explained. “We thought we had another forty-eight hours.”
“We don’t,” Jason muttered. He reached into his jacket and tossed you a small device. You caught it automatically. A burner phone. The screen was already open. Coordinates. Shipping manifests. Security routes.
Your eyes narrowed as you skimmed through the files. “These are Gotham port records.”
“Intercepted them yesterday,” Jason said. “Three containers are arriving tomorrow night under falsified WayneTech permits.”
Your stomach tightened immediately. “WayneTech?”
“Fake permits,” he clarified. “But whoever’s running this wants customs looking the other way.”
You kept scrolling. Then stopped. Your pulse kicked hard once. “No way.”
Artemis glanced at you. “You recognize it?”
You looked back up slowly. “This serial code.” You tapped the screen. “I’ve seen it before.”
Jason stilled instantly. “Where?”
You frowned, trying to place it. “A case Bruce was working months ago. Experimental weapons trafficking. There were rumors about stolen League prototypes being sold through Gotham.”
You looked at him sharply. “And Bruce never figured out where they were going.” A heavy silence settled over the dock. Then Jason swore quietly under his breath. “That’s bad,” you muttered.
“That’s catastrophic,” Artemis corrected.
Bizarro leaned slightly closer to the phone. “Tiny numbers bad?”
“Yes,” Jason and Artemis said at the same time.
You looked back at the files again, scanning faster now. Your heartbeat had shifted into mission mode completely.
“There’s not just weapons in here,” you realized. “This is transport data.”
Jason nodded once. “Keep going.”
You swiped through another manifest. Then another. Your expression hardened. “These routes…” You looked up immediately. “These aren’t random drop points.”
“No,” Artemis said quietly.
A cold feeling slid down your spine. They were schools. Community centers. Apartment complexes. Dense civilian areas. Places where damage would spread fast. Places where panic would spread even faster.
You looked at Jason sharply. “This isn’t trafficking.”
Bizarro’s posture straightened immediately at the tone in your voice.
Jason stepped closer now, all traces of earlier teasing gone. “We think someone’s planning coordinated attacks across Gotham.”
Your chest tightened violently. “How many?”
“We don’t know yet,” Artemis admitted. “But enough that we can’t hit this head-on.”
“And Batman?” you asked automatically.
Jason’s jaw flexed beneath the helmet. “We can’t involve him yet.”
Your eyes narrowed instantly. “Jason—”
“Listen to me.” His voice cut sharper this time. Controlled, but intense. “If B gets involved before we know who’s funding this, the entire operation disappears underground.”
“And he’s still predictable.”
The words landed heavier than either of you wanted them to. You stared at him. Jason held your gaze evenly, but there was something complicated underneath it. Old anger. Old hurt. Fear, maybe. Not for himself. For Gotham. For you.
Artemis stepped in before the tension could fully spike. “We already tried tracing the money,” she said. “Every lead circles back to shell corporations and dead accounts.”
“Except one,” Jason added.
He took the phone back from your hands and pulled up a final file. A symbol flashed onto the screen. Your stomach dropped instantly. A black dragon curled around a blade. League of Assassins. But altered.
“Who the hell are they?” you whispered.
Jason’s voice lowered. “We don’t know yet.”
Then his eyes met yours through the red helmet. “But whoever they are,” he said, “they’ve already got people inside Gotham.”
The words settled heavily between all four of you. The harbor suddenly felt colder. You stared at the symbol on the burner phone, your mind already racing through possibilities faster than you could organize them. Splinter factions. Former League loyalists. Offshoot mercenary cells. Gotham had seen enough copycats over the years that normally you’d dismiss it. But not with Jason looking this tense. Not with Artemis standing so still. Not with Bizarro watching the perimeter instead of the conversation.
“How long have you known?” you asked quietly.
“About a week,” Jason admitted.
You snapped your eyes toward him immediately. “A week?”
“You should’ve called someone sooner.”
Jason’s shoulders shifted slightly beneath the leather jacket. “Wasn’t exactly sure you’d answer.”
That hit harder than it should have. You looked away first. Artemis cleared her throat gently, pulling the conversation back before it could spiral somewhere dangerous. “The shipment docks tomorrow night,” she said. “Pier forty-two. We believe they’ll move the weapons inland immediately after arrival.”
“How many guards?” you asked automatically.
“Too many for subtlety,” Jason answered.
“And too many for brute force,” Artemis added, glancing meaningfully at Bizarro.
Bizarro looked deeply disappointed by that. “Bizarro like brute force.”
“I know you do,” Jason muttered.
You crouched slightly, pulling the burner phone closer as you studied the maps again. “Wait.” Your eyes narrowed. “This route here…”
Jason stepped beside you. Close enough that you could feel warmth radiating from him through the cold harbor air. “What about it?”
“This road’s under construction.” You zoomed further into the map. “The city shut it down two weeks ago after a sinkhole collapsed part of the tunnel.”
Artemis frowned. “Then why use it?”
Your stomach tightened. “They wouldn’t.” Jason went still beside you. You looked up sharply. “This route’s fake.”
“Decoy,” he realized immediately.
“To split attention,” Artemis finished.
The three of you exchanged a look all at once. Then Jason was moving. “Bizarro,” he barked.
“Get to the east side tunnels. Now. Check for movement.”
Bizarro nodded instantly before launching upward with enough force to shake the container beneath him. A second later he disappeared into the Gotham skyline.
You turned back toward the map rapidly. “If the tunnels are bait, then the actual shipment—”
“Won’t come through the harbor at all,” Jason finished grimly.
Artemis cursed softly in Greek. You straightened quickly. “Then where?”
Jason grabbed the phone from your hand, fingers brushing yours briefly as he flipped through the files again with growing frustration. “Come on, come on—”
Then he froze. Your eyes narrowed. “What?”
Jason slowly turned the screen toward you. Wayne Enterprises Shipping Yard.
Your blood ran cold. “No.”
Artemis looked between both of you immediately. “What is it?”
Jason’s voice came out dangerously quiet. “The permits weren’t for customs.”
Realization slammed into you so hard it almost made you dizzy. “They were for access,” you breathed.
Not getting into Gotham. Getting into Wayne property. Jason looked furious now. The kind of fury that went frighteningly still instead of loud.
“They’re using Wayne shipments as cover,” he said. “Which means somebody either hacked the system…”
“Or they’ve got inside access,” you finished.
Your mind immediately jumped to the cave. The manor. Bruce. Tim. Barbara. Damian.
Every Gotham surveillance route.
Every emergency protocol.
Jason was already shaking his head. “Don’t panic yet.”
“You literally just described the exact setup for panicking.”
Artemis stepped forward, voice steady even as tension coiled around all of you. “Then we need to determine if Wayne Enterprises is the target or the disguise.”
You looked at Jason sharply. “Bruce needs to know.”
The answer came instantly. Firm. Final.
You stared at him incredulously. “Jason—”
“If there’s a leak connected to Wayne systems,” he snapped, “then telling Bruce too early could tip them off.”
“And Batman has a pattern.” Jason stepped closer now, frustration slipping through the cracks. “He escalates pressure, they panic, and suddenly everyone vanishes before we can identify who’s actually behind this.”
Your jaw tightened. “So what? You want to do this alone?”
Jason laughed once, humorless. “I literally called you.”
“That is not the same thing and you know it.”
For a second it looked like he might argue again. Then, a sharp crackle sounded through the comm in Jason’s helmet.
Static. Bizarro’s voice burst through a second later. “Red Hood.”
Jason’s posture changed instantly. “Talk.”
Heavy breathing crackled through the speaker. Then, “Bizarro found trucks.”
Every muscle in your body tensed. “Where?” Artemis demanded.
“Moving underground.” Bizarro sounded confused. “But…” A pause. “Many dead people here.”
Silence hit the docks instantly. Jason’s voice dropped low. Dangerous. “Dead how?”
Then Bizarro answered quietly, “like League.”
The words settled heavily over the comms. Jason was already moving before Bizarro had fully finished speaking, grabbing the handlebars of his bike and swinging onto it in one smooth motion. Artemis vaulted onto the back of another motorcycle nearby while you hurried after them, pulse already spiking into mission mode.
“Location?” Jason barked into the comm.
Bizarro’s distorted voice crackled back through static. “Underground tunnels near Burnley shipping district. Trucks moving east.”
Jason cursed sharply. “That puts them ten minutes from the Wayne yard.”
You slid onto the back of his bike automatically before realizing what you’d done. Jason went still for half a second beneath you. Then the engine roared violently to life. “Hold on,” he muttered.
The bike launched forward hard enough to nearly throw you backward. Cold air tore through Gotham as the three of you sped through the city streets. Neon lights blurred past. Sirens echoed somewhere in the distance. Jason drove like he fought, aggressive, fast, entirely unconcerned with traffic laws or personal safety.
You tightened your grip around his jacket instinctively as the bike cut dangerously between two trucks. “You trying to kill me?” you yelled over the engine.
“Wouldn’t have invited you if I thought it’d work.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”
Despite everything, your chest tightened strangely at the familiar sarcasm. Then the tunnels came into view. Police barricades littered the entrance. Abandoned cars sat crooked across the street. And smoke curled steadily from below ground. Jason slowed sharply, visor scanning the scene. “Something’s wrong.”
Artemis was already dismounting. “No kidding.”
You all descended quickly into the tunnel system. The smell hit first. Smoke. Blood. Burned concrete. The underground roadway looked like a war zone. Trucks sat overturned across the tunnel, bullet holes shredded through reinforced metal doors, and bodies dressed in dark tactical gear littered the pavement. League operatives. Every single one dead. Your stomach twisted.
“What the hell happened here?” you whispered.
“Bizarro not do this,” Bizarro said quickly, almost defensive.
“I know,” Jason answered immediately. He crouched beside one of the bodies, gloved fingers brushing against the tactical armor. His posture shifted slightly. Tense. Focused. Then his head snapped upward. “Move!”
You barely reacted before gunfire exploded through the tunnels. League assassins dropped from the overhead support beams like shadows. Black uniforms. Curved blades. Suppressed rifles. The fight erupted instantly.
Artemis launched forward first, brutal and precise, her axe crashing into concrete hard enough to crack it as assassins scattered around her. Bizarro charged through the center like a tank, grabbing one attacker and hurling him through a truck windshield. Jason moved beside you automatically. Not behind you. Beside you.
His guns fired sharp bursts through the tunnel while you swept an attacker’s legs out from under them, baton cracking against armor. Another assassin lunged toward Jason’s blind spot—
You intercepted immediately, driving your elbow into their throat before slamming them into the wall. Jason noticed. You knew he did. But there wasn’t time to think about it. More assassins poured from deeper within the tunnel. Too many. Jason swore sharply into the comms. “They’re stalling us.”
Artemis spun her axe cleanly through another attacker. “For what?” Then—
Your comm crackled violently.
Bizarro’s voice thundered through it. “TRUCK MOVING.”
Jason’s head snapped toward the far tunnel exit. One armored transport was breaking away from the fight.
Your heart dropped. “They’re splitting the shipment.”
Jason looked at you instantly. And for one split second you saw it in his face. Hesitation. Calculation. Fear. Not because he didn’t think you were capable. Because he did. And he knew exactly how dangerous that made this.
“You,” he barked suddenly. You straightened immediately. “Take the east route. Stop that truck.” Your pulse jumped. Jason grabbed your arm before you could move, voice dropping lower. More serious. “Do not engage unless you have to.”
You frowned immediately. “Hood.”
“I mean it.” His helmet tilted toward you sharply. “Track it. Disable it if you can. But if there are too many—”
“I know how missions work.”
His grip tightened briefly anyway. Then he let go. “Go.”
You ran. Fast. Your boots pounded against the tunnel pavement as you sprinted after the armored transport disappearing deeper underground. The roar of the engine echoed violently through the tunnels ahead while Gotham’s old drainage systems twisted endlessly around you. You fired your grappling hook upward, swinging over collapsed concrete before landing hard on top of a maintenance platform. The truck was gaining speed.
“Come on,” you muttered, breathing hard.
You launched yourself downward. Your boots slammed onto the roof of the moving vehicle hard enough to dent metal. Instantly, gunfire erupted upward through the ceiling. You rolled violently out of the way as bullets tore through steel where your head had just been.
Okay. Definitely engaging now.
You ripped open the roof hatch and dropped inside. The interior of the transport truck was dark except for flashing red emergency lights lining the ceiling. Metal walls. Crates strapped tightly along both sides. Enough room to fight, barely.
Three assassins looked up simultaneously. And moved instantly. One slammed into you before your boots fully hit the floor. Pain exploded through your ribs as your back crashed against the truck wall hard enough to rattle your teeth. The entire vehicle swerved violently beneath you, tires screeching against wet pavement somewhere outside the armored hull. You barely got your baton up in time before a curved blade came down toward your throat.
Sparks flew. The impact jarred painfully through your arm. The assassin twisted fast, League-trained, efficient, terrifyingly precise, and another figure was already moving in your peripheral vision. Too fast. A blade sliced across your shoulder. White-hot pain ripped through you instantly. You hissed sharply and drove your boot into the nearest assassin’s chest hard enough to knock him backward into a crate. The truck lurched again. Gunfire cracked somewhere ahead near the driver’s cabin.
Your comm fizzed violently with static. “Status?” Jason’s voice crackled through.
You ducked another strike. “Busy!”
The assassin came at you again immediately. No wasted motion. No hesitation. These people fought like they were born doing it. You blocked high, twisted, slammed your baton into the attacker’s wrist hard enough to hear something crack. The blade clattered away.
Another assassin grabbed you from behind instantly. An arm locked around your throat. Your vision sparked. You reacted on instinct, throwing your weight backward hard enough to slam both of you into the truck wall. Metal dented loudly on impact. The assassin’s grip loosened for half a second, enough.
You drove your elbow backward into their ribs once. Twice. Then snapped your head back hard enough to break their nose beneath the mask. Warm blood splattered across the side of your face. The truck hit a sharp turn. Everybody staggered.
You grabbed one of the hanging cargo straps overhead to steady yourself just as another blade came for your stomach. You twisted sideways barely in time, feeling steel slice across the armored side of your suit instead of flesh. Close. Way too close. You kicked the attacker backward and finally got a clean hit in, baton cracking hard across the side of their helmet. The assassin collapsed instantly.
You breathed hard, chest burning. Then the remaining two attacked together. Your stomach dropped. Jason had known. The realization hit in the middle of the fight like a punch to the ribs. Not because he thought you’d fail. Because he knew exactly what this kind of fight did to people.
League assassins didn’t overwhelm you with strength. They exhausted you. Cornered you. Made every movement cost something until eventually your body gave out before your will did. One blade flashed toward your face. You ducked. Another slammed into your side. Agony burst through your ribs hard enough to nearly make your knees buckle. You gasped sharply and retaliated instantly, grabbing the attacker’s wrist and slamming it against the truck wall repeatedly until the blade fell loose. The second assassin lunged toward you.
You grabbed the fallen knife midair and drove it into the control panel beside the rear doors instead. Electricity exploded in sparks. The truck lights flickered violently. The sudden distraction bought you two seconds. Two seconds was enough. You launched forward hard, tackling one assassin directly into the stacked cargo crates. Wood splintered beneath the impact. You hit them again. Again. Brutal. Fast. Dick’s precision mixed with Jason’s aggression in a way Bruce would probably hate.
The assassin finally stopped moving.
But the last one? The last one pulled a gun. Your pulse spiked instantly. The muzzle flashed. You threw yourself sideways just as bullets ripped through the metal wall behind you. One grazed your thigh hard enough to burn. “Son of a—”
The assassin advanced relentlessly, firing again. You grabbed a loose crate and hurled it directly into them. The truck swerved violently at the same time. Everything tilted. The assassin stumbled.
You ran. Straight through the narrow center aisle. The gun fired once more. Pain exploded across your shoulder again as the bullet tore through armor instead of your chest. You screamed despite yourself. Then slammed directly into the assassin hard enough that both of you crashed through the front divider into the driver’s cabin.
The driver yelled in surprise. The steering wheel jerked violently. The truck fishtailed. You barely had enough time to grab the wheel before the entire transport smashed sideways into the tunnel wall. Concrete exploded around you. The truck screamed metal against stone before finally slamming into a divider hard enough to stop everything all at once.
Your ears rang violently. Smoke curled from the dashboard. One assassin lay unconscious halfway across the cabin, blood dripping down their mask. The other had either been thrown clear or escaped during the crash, you genuinely couldn’t tell anymore. You could barely breathe. Every inhale stabbed through your ribs. Your shoulder burned hot and wet beneath your suit. Blood soaked steadily down your arm, dripping from your fingertips onto shattered glass below. Your head spun hard enough that the tunnel lights blurred every time you tried to focus. You sat there for a second. Then another. Trying not to pass out. Trying not to think about how Jason had known exactly what this mission would cost you. And sent you anyway.
Blood soaked down your arm steadily from the cut across your shoulder. Your lip was split badly enough you could taste iron every time you inhaled. One of your knees screamed every time you put weight on it.
Your comm crackled again. “Status?” Jason’s voice.
You swallowed hard. “Truck’s down.”
Silence. Then, “are you hurt?”
You almost laughed at how immediate the question came. “A little.”
“You’re lying.” Another pause. Then quieter, “location?”
By the time Jason found you, you were sitting against the wrecked truck trying very hard not to pass out. The tunnel lights flickered weakly overhead. Your head lifted at the sound of approaching boots. Jason stopped dead the second he saw you. Even through the helmet, you could feel it.
“Oh,” you said weakly. “That look can’t be good.”
Jason was beside you instantly, crouching hard enough that his knee slammed into the pavement. “Jesus Christ.”
“You’re bleeding through your suit.”
“Well.” You glanced downward briefly. “Yeah. That tends to happen when people stab you.”
Jason looked one second away from losing his mind. Artemis and Bizarro arrived seconds later behind him. Artemis’s eyes widened slightly as she took in the damage. “By Hera.”
“Tiny bat sibling look terrible,” Bizarro added sadly.
“Thank you,” you muttered.
Jason carefully grabbed your jaw, turning your face toward the tunnel light to inspect the damage. His gloves were rough against your skin but his hands, his hands were careful. Too careful. “You fought the entire transport team alone?” he demanded.
You blinked tiredly. “Technically not all of them. One of them drove.”
Jason looked like he wanted to yell. Instead he closed his eyes briefly beneath the helmet. Then muttered quietly, almost to himself “Bruce is gonna kill me.”
You almost laughed at that. Almost. Instead it came out more like a strained exhale as pain flared through your ribs again. “Wow,” you muttered weakly. “Good to know your biggest concern is Bruce.”
Jason shot you a look sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t start.”
“Wasn’t planning to. Breathing’s taking up most of my schedule right now.”
Artemis crouched beside the wrecked truck, examining the inside quickly before looking back toward Jason. “The cargo’s still here.” That got everyone’s attention immediately.
Jason finally pulled his hand away from your face and stood, posture shifting back into mission mode despite the tension radiating off him. “How much?”
“Most of it,” Artemis answered. “Whatever they were transporting, they prioritized escape over recovery.”
Bizarro tilted his head, glowing eyes narrowing toward the crates still strapped inside the ruined transport. “Boxes smell wrong.”
You blinked tiredly. “That’s… concerning wording.”
“It means chemicals,” Jason translated automatically. “Or explosives.”
Jason muttered another curse under his breath before keying his comm. “We can’t stay here long. League’ll regroup.”
You pushed yourself up against the truck wall carefully, immediately regretting it when agony ripped through your side hard enough to make your vision blur white for a second. Jason noticed instantly. “Easy.”
“I am being easy,” you hissed.
“No, you’re being stubborn.”
Artemis snorted softly while Jason crouched again, clearly deciding arguing with you was currently less important than making sure you stayed conscious.
Jason stared at you for one long second. Then, before you could protest, one arm hooked carefully around your back while the other slid beneath your knees. Your eyes widened immediately. “Jason.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, lifting you anyway. “And I can still ignore you.”
Heat rushed to your face instantly despite the pain. “You are so dramatic.”
“Says the person bleeding on my jacket.”
Behind him, Artemis looked suspiciously amused. Bizarro nodded solemnly. “Red Hood panic.”
“I am not panicking,” Jason snapped immediately.
Jason ignored him completely. The ride to the safehouse blurred together after that. Partly because Gotham streaked by too quickly beneath the roar of motorcycle engines. Partly because your body was rapidly reaching its limit. You remembered flashes more than anything else. Jason’s hand steady against your side while the bike cut through traffic. Artemis riding ahead. Bizarro leaping rooftop to rooftop overhead like some massive shadow watching the streets. And Jason checking on you every thirty seconds like he thought if he looked away too long you might disappear.
The safehouse turned out to be an old warehouse near the Coventry district. From the outside it looked abandoned. Rusted garage doors. Broken windows. Graffiti sprayed across old brick walls. Inside, it was unmistakably Jason.
Weapons lined one wall in organized rows. Multiple monitors flickered dimly across a workbench. Medical supplies sat beside stacks of ammo crates. Old couches had been shoved near a small kitchenette in what looked like an attempt at making the place livable. There was even a coffee machine. Jason disappeared briefly into another room before returning with a medical kit. “Take the armor off.”
You sighed dramatically but carefully peeled the damaged armor away from your shoulder anyway. The fabric underneath was soaked through with blood. Jason went very still. The wound wasn’t life-threatening. But it was deep. And ugly. Artemis crossed her arms nearby while Bizarro sat carefully on the warehouse floor, somehow looking deeply distressed for someone built like a tank. “Tiny bat sibling fought good,” he offered quietly.
You smiled faintly despite yourself. “Thanks.”
Jason knelt in front of you again, disinfectant already in hand. “This is gonna suck.”
It did suck. A lot. You sucked in a sharp breath as antiseptic hit the wound. Jason’s free hand immediately steadied against your knee instinctively before he realized what he was doing. His hand lingered there anyway. “You could’ve called for backup,” he muttered quietly while stitching the cut.
You looked down at him. “Truck would’ve escaped.”
“You didn’t know what was inside.”
“You didn’t either.” Jason’s jaw tightened. That silence told you enough.
Your eyes narrowed slightly despite exhaustion. “You knew this mission was bad.”
“I knew it was dangerous.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Jason tied off another stitch harder than necessary. “Welcome to working with me.”
Artemis stepped toward the monitors before the conversation could turn into another fight. “We should focus on the shipment.”
Jason exhaled slowly through his nose before standing. “Right.”
You pushed yourself upright carefully while Artemis pulled surveillance images onto the largest screen. Crates. Shipping manifests. League symbols. Then one final image appeared. Your stomach dropped instantly. Wayne Tower blueprints. Jason’s expression darkened immediately. “There it is.”
Artemis folded her arms. “This was never about random attacks.”
“No,” you whispered. Your eyes scanned the highlighted sections of the building plans. Sublevels. Security hubs. Power infrastructure. Then you saw it. And your blood ran cold.
“The cave.” Jason looked at you sharply. “They’re trying to access the cave through Wayne Tower infrastructure,” you said quietly. “Oh my god.”
Silence filled the warehouse. Heavy. Dangerous.
Bizarro frowned. “Bad cave?”
Jason’s voice came out low and grim. “The worst kind.”
Nobody spoke for a long moment after that. The warehouse suddenly felt smaller somehow.
Not just Wayne property. Not just Gotham infrastructure.
Your eyes stayed locked on the blueprints glowing across the monitor while your mind raced through worst-case scenarios fast enough to make your chest tighten painfully. If the League got into the Batcave, they got everything.
Identities.
Weapons.
Emergency protocols.
Contingency files.
Jason stepped closer to the monitors, all traces of earlier softness gone again. His expression had hardened into something tactical. Controlled. Dangerous. “They’re coming through the old foundation tunnels beneath Wayne Tower,” he said. “Most of the routes are abandoned maintenance shafts connected to the city’s original subway system.”
Artemis leaned against the worktable beside him. “Which means they’re avoiding surface-level surveillance.”
“And Oracle,” you added quietly.
Jason’s jaw flexed slightly at Barbara’s name but he nodded once. “Exactly.” You pushed yourself carefully off the couch despite your ribs screaming at the movement. Jason noticed instantly. “Sit back down.”
“You are visibly bleeding through gauze.”
You glared at each other for a second before Artemis interrupted dryly, “This is fascinating, truly, but Gotham may explode while you two have whatever this is.”
You exhaled sharply and moved toward the monitors anyway. Jason muttered something deeply unfriendly under his breath but didn’t stop you this time. You studied the blueprints carefully. “If they’re entering through these tunnels…” Your finger traced one of the highlighted routes. “Then they’re bypassing the manor completely.”
“They know about the external defenses,” Jason agreed.
“That means somebody with access to Bat-family intel fed them information,” Artemis said.
Silence. Nobody liked that possibility.
Bizarro tilted his head slightly. “Tiny bat family have traitor?”
“No,” you answered immediately. Jason glanced toward you but stayed quiet. You looked at him sharply. “No.”
“You were thinking it loudly.”
His mouth twitched slightly despite himself before he looked back toward the screens. “I don’t think it’s one of you.”
The distinction hit harder than it should have. Jason crossed his arms. “But somebody’s feeding information out. Maybe through stolen files. Maybe through old League contacts. Either way, if Bruce gets involved now, the leak disappears before we identify it.”
You stared at him incredulously. “Jason, this is bigger than us.”
“No,” he corrected flatly. “It’s exactly about us.”
Artemis glanced between you both carefully, clearly deciding not to interrupt yet.
You stepped closer to Jason despite the pain radiating through your ribs. “Bruce deserves to know.”
“And Bruce will escalate immediately.”
“Because that’s what Batman does!”
The sharpness in his voice cracked through the warehouse instantly.
Jason dragged a hand down the front of his helmet before ripping it off entirely, frustration finally bleeding visibly across his face now. “You know what happens if he finds out too early?” he demanded. “Everybody mobilizes. Cave goes into lockdown. Oracle starts tracing networks. Tim starts digging into financials. And suddenly every single person behind this vanishes underground before we can touch them.”
“Or,” you snapped back, “we stop an attack on our family.”
Jason’s eyes flashed. “They’re already attacking our family.”
Silence slammed down heavily after that. Because he was right. You looked away first. Artemis finally stepped in carefully. “Then we split the operation.”
“We monitor the tunnels independently,” she continued. “No Bat involvement yet. But if we confirm active movement toward the cave, then we inform Batman immediately.”
Jason looked unconvinced. You crossed your arms carefully. “That’s the compromise.”
Bizarro nodded solemnly. “Red Hood hate feelings and teamwork.”
Jason pointed at him tiredly. “You are one comment away from being launched through a wall.”
Artemis ignored them both. “We’ll need surveillance points here, here, and here.” She pointed toward the underground routes on-screen. “Bizarro can monitor surface movement while I handle eastern access points.”
“I’ll take the main tunnel routes,” Jason said immediately.
You looked up. “Then I’ll—”
You blinked slowly. “I’m sorry?”
Jason didn’t even look at you. “You’re injured.”
“Oh my god,” you muttered.
Jason finally turned toward you fully. “You almost collapsed walking in here.”
“And I’m not sending you back underground tonight.”
The words came out too fast. Too sharp. Too protective.
Your eyes narrowed immediately. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
Jason laughed once without humor. “Yeah? Because your decision-making tonight has been phenomenal.”
Anger flared instantly in your chest. “I completed the mission.”
“You’ve literally died, Jason!”
The second the words left your mouth, silence. Heavy.
Immediate.
Jason went completely still. Artemis quietly looked away. Even Bizarro stopped moving. Your own anger evaporated instantly, replaced by immediate regret. Jason’s expression closed off so quickly it physically hurt to watch. “Great,” you muttered softly. “I didn’t mean—”
“No,” he said quietly. “You did.”
The warehouse suddenly felt too quiet. Jason turned away first, grabbing his helmet back before heading toward the far side of the room. “We move at dawn,” he said flatly. “Get some sleep.”
Then he disappeared into the adjoining room and shut the metal door behind him. The sound echoed. You stood there for a second staring after him. Then sighed heavily and pressed your hand against your ribs. “Fantastic. I’m the worst.”
“No,” Artemis said calmly from behind you. “You’re family.” You looked back at her. She gave you a small look. One that said she understood far more than she was saying aloud. “Go talk to him.”
Jason was sitting on the floor when you found him. Not training. Not cleaning weapons. Not working. Just sitting beside the old warehouse window with one knee pulled up, helmet discarded beside him while Gotham glowed dimly outside. For a second he didn’t look like Red Hood at all.
You leaned carefully against the doorway. “You know, for someone who hates emotional conversations, you sure keep accidentally having them.”
Jason snorted softly but didn’t look at you. “You should be resting.”
“You should be less annoying.”
You limped farther into the room anyway, lowering yourself carefully onto the floor beside him with a quiet wince. Jason noticed immediately. Of course he did. “You’re in pain.”
Silence settled between you for a moment. Not hostile this time. Just tired. Then Jason spoke quietly. “When I saw you sitting there tonight…” He swallowed once. “For a second I thought—”
He stopped himself. Your chest tightened. “You thought I was dead.”
Jason didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. You looked down at your hands quietly. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
“Yes you did,” he said softly. “And you weren’t wrong.”
Jason laughed quietly. Bitterly. “Pretty sure dying means you lose most arguments automatically.”
You bumped your shoulder lightly against his. Or tried to. It came out weaker than intended because of the injuries. Jason still shifted slightly closer anyway. “I was angry,” you admitted quietly. “You disappear for years and then come back acting like you’re the only person allowed to feel anything.”
Jason stared out toward Gotham through the warehouse windows. “You know what my last thought was before Joker killed me?” Your breath caught slightly. Jason’s voice stayed calm. Too calm. “That Bruce would blame himself.” He swallowed once. “Then right after that…” His jaw tightened. “I thought about you.”
And something hit you at that moment. All those months you spent searching for Jason, you weren't really trying to find him. You were trying to find the brother you knew as Robin. The one who fought your bullies at school and comforted you when you had nightmares.
What you needed to find instead was your brother as Red Hood. The one who was lost and angry. The one who probably now needed comfort through his own nightmare of death and resurrection.
You thought your brother was just angry and frustrated at the world but Jason wasn't Robin anymore, and maybe he was Red Hood. But like Batman puts on his cowl, Hood puts on his helmet. And when they take off the mask, they're still scared little kids who needed kindness.
Your eyes burned instantly. “Jay…”
“You were still so young.” His voice cracked slightly around the words before he covered it with a bitter laugh. “I just kept thinking you deserved better than this life.”
You looked at him quietly for a long moment before answering. “I didn’t become Batgirl because of Bruce.”
Jason frowned slightly. You leaned your head back against the wall carefully. “I became Batgirl because after you died…” Your voice softened. “Everybody else started falling apart.”
Jason went still beside you. “And I hated it,” you admitted. “I hated watching this family hurt and not being able to do anything about it. Sure I was mad at Bruce and Tim, but I think deep down, I was scared.”
The room stayed silent for a long time after that. Then slowly, Jason reached over and took your hand.
Like he was still getting used to the fact you were both here at all. “You scared the hell outta me tonight,” he admitted quietly.
You squeezed his hand back weakly. “Yeah?”
Jason finally looked at you fully. “Yeah.” Jason’s thumb brushed absently against your knuckles once before he seemed to realize he was doing it. Then his hand stilled.
The warehouse around you hummed softly with old electricity and distant traffic outside. Somewhere in the main room you could hear Artemis moving around near the monitors while Bizarro spoke quietly to himself in the kitchenette.
But in here, it was just you and Jason. You looked down at your joined hands for a second before speaking quietly. “Why did you really ask me to come tonight?”
Jason’s shoulders tightened almost immediately. Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Jason.”
“That’s not the full answer.”
He looked away first. And suddenly you knew. Your stomach dropped slowly. “Oh my god.” Jason exhaled sharply through his nose.
“You did know it would go bad.”
“No,” he said immediately. “I knew it would be dangerous.”
“You sent me into that truck anyway.” His jaw tightened. “You knew there’d be too many people inside.”
“I knew there was a chance.”
“A chance?” You stared at him incredulously. “Jason, I almost got killed.”
Something flashed across his face then.
Quick.
Ugly.
The words cracked harder than you expected. You sat there staring at him for a long moment while realization slowly settled heavier in your chest. And then, “you wanted me to hate it.”
Jason went still. The silence confirmed it. Your laugh came out soft and disbelieving. “You actually thought if I got hurt badly enough I’d stop being Batgirl.”
Jason dragged a hand over his face roughly. “I didn’t want you dead.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“No,” he muttered. “But it’s where this life goes.”
You looked at him quietly. Jason leaned back against the wall, eyes distant now. “You know what the difference is between you and me?” he asked suddenly.
You frowned slightly. “What?”
“You still think this ends well.”
The words landed somewhere deep in your chest. Jason stared out toward Gotham through the warehouse windows, expression hardening into something tired and honest all at once. “Bruce makes people believe if they sacrifice enough of themselves, eventually it’ll all mean something.” His jaw flexed slightly. “But Gotham just keeps taking.”
Silence settled after that. And slowly, painfully, something in your mind began connecting. Not because Jason explained it. Because suddenly you could see it. You thought about Dick first. About the way he smiled through exhaustion. The way he carried everyone. The way he still came running every time Bruce called, even after becoming Nightwing, even after Blüdhaven, Titans, independence, all of it. Like some part of him still needed Bruce to look at him and think: good job.
Barbara. Brilliant Barbara, who rebuilt herself after Joker shattered her life and somehow still dedicated every piece of herself back to the mission anyway. Oracle. Information. Strategy. Always useful. Always needed.
Tim. Who found Batman because he couldn’t bear watching Bruce fall apart after Jason died. Tim, who worked himself bloody trying to earn space in the cave. Trying to matter enough to keep everyone standing.
Every single one of them orbiting the symbol somehow.
Batman.
Bruce.
The mission.
And you, your chest tightened sharply. You became Batgirl after Jason died. Not because you’d dreamed about being a vigilante. Not because you wanted the violence or the danger. Because the family was collapsing. Because Bruce was drowning in grief. Because Dick was gone more often than not. Because the manor had become unbearably quiet. Because somebody had to hold it together. Your stomach twisted.
For years you’d told yourself it was about helping people. And it was. But underneath that, underneath all of it, there had always been this desperate need to preserve something Bruce built.
To protect Batman’s family.
Batman’s mission.
Batman’s city.
Like all of you had inherited pieces of his grief and spent years trying to prove carrying it made you worthy of staying. “Oh my god,” you whispered.
Jason looked over immediately, brows pulling together slightly. “What?”
But you barely heard him. Because suddenly it all felt so obvious. Dick trying to become better than Batman but never fully escaping him. Barbara rebuilding herself around usefulness because the mission needed her. Damian shaping himself into Bruce’s heir before he was even old enough to understand what that meant.
Even Jason. The one who ran. The one who fought Bruce the hardest. Still wore a mask. Still protected Gotham. Still built safehouses and contingency plans and emergency exits. Still came back when the city, or the family, was in danger.
Your throat tightened painfully. None of you knew how to exist outside of Batman.
Not because Bruce forced you to stay. Because somewhere along the way loving him and loving the mission had become tangled together until none of you knew where one ended and the other began. You stared down at your hands quietly, your thoughts spinning harder and harder.
Bruce had built Batman out of grief.
And every one of you had learned how to build yourselves around the ruins of it. Jason was still watching you carefully now. “Hey.”
You blinked slowly, pulling yourself back into the room. Your voice came out quieter than before. “Do you ever think about who you’d be if Bruce never found you?”
Jason stilled beside you. The question lingered heavily between you both. Then finally, “all the time,” he admitted softly. His answer lingered between you both.
You looked over at him quietly. The city lights spilled through the cracked warehouse windows in uneven streaks, catching the white streak in his hair and the exhaustion carved into the sharp edges of his face. For a second he looked older than he should’ve. Not physically. Just… tired. You swallowed once. “They miss you.”
Jason’s expression shifted almost immediately. Small. But noticeable.
You saw the way his shoulders tightened slightly. The way his eyes dropped toward the floor for half a second before he looked back out toward Gotham instead. “They’re doing fine.”
“That’s not what I said.”
You leaned your head back carefully against the wall again, ribs aching. “Dick still looks for you in crowds sometimes.”
Jason huffed quietly like he didn’t believe you. But he didn’t interrupt.
“Alfred keeps your favorite books exactly where you left them,” you continued softly. “Bruce never changed your room.”
That one landed. You saw it in the way Jason’s jaw tightened instantly. “He should’ve,” Jason muttered.
Jason laughed quietly then, but there was nothing funny in it. “Yeah, well. Bruce has never exactly been good at letting go of dead kids.”
Your chest tightened painfully at the wording. You looked down at your hands. “You know he blamed himself.” Jason didn’t answer. “He still does.”
That silence stretched longer this time. Then finally Jason spoke, voice low. “I know.”
The words surprised you a little. Not because you thought he hated Bruce. Not really. But because Jason always spoke about Bruce like anger was easier than grief. You looked over at him carefully. “Then why haven’t you come home?”
Jason’s expression hardened slightly, not hostile, just guarded. “Because I just got back.”
You frowned faintly. Jason rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, frustration flickering briefly across his face like he hated not being able to explain himself properly. “I don’t…” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t know how to walk back into that cave and act like everything’s normal.”
Your throat tightened. Because honestly? You understood now. Jason stared out at the skyline. “Bruce looks at me and sees a coffin.” His voice stayed calm, but barely. “Dick looks at me like he’s waiting for me to disappear again.” He swallowed once. “And Alfred…” His jaw flexed slightly. “I can’t do that to him again.”
You looked at him quietly. Jason laughed bitterly under his breath. “And every time I walk into the manor, it feels like everybody’s waiting to see whether I’m gonna become him or forgive him.”
“I just need time,” Jason admitted softly. “Bruce especially.”
You nodded slowly. Then another thought hit you. “Damian seems to miss you a lot.”
Jason blinked. Actually blinked. The shift was immediate enough it almost made you smile. “Demon brat?” he asked.
You snorted softly. “You call him demon brat?”
Jason leaned back slightly, surprised in a way he clearly hadn’t expected to be. “Damian's in Gotham? Since when?”
“Since like a few years ago,” you said.
Jason huffed out a quiet laugh at that. Then suddenly his expression sharpened. You noticed instantly. “What?”
Jason sat forward slightly now, thoughts visibly rearranging in real time. “Damian grew up in the League.”
Your brows furrowed. "Yeah and?"
“The symbols,” Jason said quickly. “The markings on the shipment files.”
Realization hit you too. “Oh.”
“If these are splinter League operatives,” Jason muttered, already standing now, “Damian might recognize the variations.”
You stared at him as he immediately shifted back into mission mode. Then slowly raised an eyebrow. “So,” you said carefully, “you won’t involve Bruce Wayne, grown adult, greatest detective in the world…”
Jason pointed at you warningly while grabbing his helmet.
“…but we will involve the eight-year-old with a murder obsession.”
“Ten,” Jason corrected automatically.
“That does not help your case.”
From the other room Artemis called out immediately, “I would also like it formally noted this sounds insane.”
“Too late,” Jason called back. “We’re already doing it.”
Bizarro appeared in the doorway. “Tiny angry Robin joining team?”
You sighed deeply. “This is how every terrible idea in this family starts.”
Jason finally looked back at you then. And for the first time all night, really looked lighter. Not healed. Not okay. But lighter. Like the idea of seeing Damian again had cracked through something in him before he could stop it. Your chest softened at the sight despite yourself. Then Jason tossed you a spare jacket from across the room. “C’mon, Batgirl.”
You caught it against your chest with a wince. “Ow. Rude.”
“We’re going to the manor.”
Your eyes widened instantly. “Wait, right now?”
Jason shoved his helmet back on. “Before I change my mind.”
The ride to the manor was quieter than the ride to the warehouse. Partly because your ribs felt like shattered glass every time the motorcycle hit a bump. Partly because Jason had gone strangely tense the closer you got to the manor. You noticed it immediately. The way his shoulders stiffened. The way he slowed slightly once the familiar tree line surrounding the manor came into view. Even after everything, this was still home.
The gates of Wayne Manor loomed ahead through the dark, iron bars silhouetted against the massive estate beyond. Most of the lights inside the manor were off now, the house sitting heavy and silent against the Gotham skyline. Jason cut the engine a block away.
You climbed off carefully, trying not to visibly wince. Jason noticed anyway. “You good?”
“No,” you answered honestly.
He looked toward the manor again after that, helmet tucked beneath one arm now. And suddenly, unexpectedly, he looked nervous.
You stared at him for a second. “Jason Peter Todd.”
He frowned immediately. “What.”
“I am literally standing still.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “You wanna do this or not?”
You smirked slightly. “Aw. You’re scared.”
“I fought an alien warlord last month.”
“And yet Bruce Wayne remains your greatest enemy.”
Jason muttered something deeply threatening under his breath before finally moving toward the manor grounds. Sneaking into Wayne Manor should not have been as easy as it was. But unfortunately for Bruce, he’d trained both of you himself. You scaled the outer wall quickly before crossing through the eastern gardens, sticking carefully to the darker corners of the property while Jason led the way toward one of the side balconies. The cold night air bit through your damaged suit as you climbed. Jason reached the balcony railing first, hauling himself over before immediately turning to help steady you when your injured shoulder almost gave out. “You okay?”
You shot him a tired glare before both of you slipped quietly inside. The manor was dark. Quiet. Familiar.
Your chest tightened painfully the second your boots touched the hardwood floors. God. You hadn’t realized how much you missed your warm bed even after barely a night. Jason clearly felt it too. You saw it in the way his eyes flicked instinctively toward the grandfather clock down the hallway. The portraits. The staircase. Memory after memory after memory living inside these walls. For a second neither of you moved.
Then, a floorboard creaked somewhere behind you. Jason reacted instantly. So did you. Both of you spun just as a shadow launched directly from the upper balcony. Damian.
You barely had time to register the sword before Damian came at you like an actual tiny assassin missile. “Damian wait—” Too late. Steel clashed loudly as Jason caught the blade with one armored gauntlet while you narrowly ducked the second strike. Damian moved terrifyingly fast.
“You dare infiltrate this house?” he snapped, already twisting into another attack. “Pathetic.”
“Okay wow,” you wheezed, stumbling backward. “He’s actually kinda scary."
“He's always scary,” Jason grunted.
Damian froze mid-strike. Silence.
Slowly, very slowly, his head lifted toward Jason. Jason finally pulled fully into the dim moonlight spilling through the manor windows. For one split second Damian just stared. Actually stared. And then, something openly bright flashed across his face so quickly it almost didn’t look real.
You had maybe half a second to witness it before Damian’s entire expression snapped back into carefully arranged indifference. His sword lowered slightly. “…Todd.”
Jason snorted softly. “Nice to see you too, demon spawn.”
Damian crossed his arms immediately like he hadn’t almost looked emotional two seconds ago. “You are trespassing.”
“You literally attacked us first.”
“You entered the manor covertly.”
You looked at Jason flatly. “See? Murder child.”
Damian’s eyes flicked toward you next. Immediately narrowing. “You are injured.” You sighed. “You smell like antiseptic and blood.” Damian stepped closer before stopping abruptly in front of Jason again. His posture stayed rigidly controlled, but you could practically see him trying not to stare. Jason noticed too. Something softer flickered briefly across his face.
“You get taller?” Jason asked casually.
Damian looked deeply offended. “Of course I did.”
The words came out suddenly. Too fast. The silence afterward was immediate. Damian’s jaw tightened like he regretted saying it aloud at all.
Jason’s expression softened anyway. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
Damian looked away first. Which, honestly, might’ve been the closest thing to vulnerable you’d ever seen from him.
Then abruptly he cleared his throat and snapped back into business mode. “Why are you here?”
Jason glanced toward you briefly before reaching into his jacket and pulling out the burner phone with the League symbols displayed across the screen. Damian’s expression sharpened instantly. The second he saw the markings, every trace of irritation vanished. “…Where did you get this?” he asked quietly.
Jason and you exchanged a look. Because that tone, that was not good. “Damian,” he said quietly. “What is it?”
Damian took the burner phone from Jason without another word, eyes scanning the symbol carefully. The manor lights caught against the gold detailing on the hilt of his sword as he lowered it fully to his side now, all attention fixed on the screen. You watched his expression tighten. Not confusion. Recognition.
Your stomach dropped. “Damian.”
He looked up slowly. “I know this crest.”
Silence settled heavily through the hallway.
Jason crossed his arms tightly. “From the League?”
Damian nodded once. “A splinter order.”
The words hit like a brick. You exchanged a glance with Jason immediately. Artemis had been right. “Who are they?” you asked.
Damian’s jaw tightened slightly before he answered. “They were loyal to my grandfather once. But after Father rejected leadership of the League…” His expression darkened faintly. “Some believed the al Ghuls had become weak.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Define weak.”
That answered enough. You felt cold suddenly. Damian handed the phone back carefully. “Their leader believed Gotham corrupted Father. That Batman turned the heir of the Demon into something lesser.”
Jason’s voice lowered dangerously. “And now?”
“They disappeared years ago.” Damian frowned slightly. “At least, they were supposed to.”
Jason glanced toward you once. This just kept getting worse. Damian stepped toward the nearest table, already pulling one of Bruce’s old notebooks toward himself and flipping it open. “This symbol variation here—” He pointed toward the altered dragon insignia. “—means they are no longer directly tied to the League itself.”
“They answer to someone else now.”
The room went quiet again. Jason leaned against the wall beside you, expression unreadable beneath the dim lighting. “You know who’s leading them?”
Damian hesitated. Which immediately put everybody on edge. “Damian.”
The younger boy exhaled slowly through his nose before speaking. “There were rumors when I was younger,” he admitted. “About a faction operating outside my grandfather’s authority. They believed Gotham itself should be destroyed and rebuilt.”
Your ribs suddenly hurt worse somehow. “Destroy Gotham?” you repeated.
Damian nodded. “Not through chaos. Through purification.”
Jason made a disgusted sound under his breath. “Cult behavior. Great.”
“They believed Batman’s existence infected the city,” Damian continued quietly. “That Gotham creates endless violence because Father refuses to rule through fear completely.”
You stared at him. And suddenly the pieces started connecting. The tunnels. Wayne Tower. The Batcave. “They’re not targeting Gotham,” you realized slowly.
Jason looked toward you immediately. “They’re targeting Batman.”
Damian’s silence confirmed it. A chill slid down your spine. Because this wasn’t random terrorism. This wasn’t about money or weapons trafficking or power. This was personal.
Jason pushed off the wall abruptly, already pacing now. “Okay. So we’ve got League extremists trying to breach the cave because they think Bruce is too soft. Fantastic.”
“They would not view it as softness,” Damian corrected automatically. “They would view it as failure.”
“Yeah,” Jason muttered. “Same difference.”
You looked between both of them carefully. Jason pacing like a storm trying to stay contained. Damian standing rigidly still in the middle of the hallway like he was forcing himself not to react emotionally to Jason being here at all. And then suddenly, you noticed it.
The way Damian kept glancing at Jason when he thought nobody was looking. Tiny things. Quick things. Like he was checking Jason was still actually there. Your chest tightened softly. Jason noticed eventually too. You saw it happen in real time. His pacing slowed slightly. His expression shifted just enough that the anger eased around the edges. “Demon brat,” he said suddenly.
Damian stiffened immediately. “What.”
Jason tilted his head toward the kitchen. “You drink that disgusting oat milk Alfred buys?”
Jason nodded once. “Good. Means this place hasn’t completely fallen apart without me.”
Damian stared at him for one long second. Then very quietly, “it was unpleasant.”
Jason frowned slightly. “What was?”
“Your absence.” The words came out stiff. Awkward. Painfully sincere. You nearly stopped breathing. Jason froze too. Damian immediately looked offended with himself for having feelings in public. “Do not react to that.”
Jason’s mouth opened. Closed. Then finally, “yeah,” he said softly. “Okay.”
The hallway suddenly felt unbearably full of things none of you knew how to say out loud. So naturally Damian ruined it immediately. “You also owe me one hundred dollars.”
“You told Grayson I would never beat him in combat simulations.” Damian crossed his arms smugly. “I did.”
You burst out laughing instantly. Jason looked horrified. “You kept track of that?”
“I keep track of everything.”
“That is genuinely terrifying.”
And somehow, despite the blood still soaking through your bandages, despite the danger still hanging over all of you, despite the fact Gotham might literally be under attack, for the first time in a very long time, the manor almost felt warm again.
The warmth didn’t last long. Because Gotham never really let it. Jason eventually dragged a hand down his face and exhaled sharply. “Okay. Sentimental reunion over. We’ve got cult-assassins trying to break into the cave.”
Damian straightened immediately back into mission mode. “How many operatives?”
“Enough to make tonight annoying,” Jason muttered.
“Language,” you said automatically.
Jason looked at you flatly. “You got stabbed through a moving truck.”
“And you don’t get to sound parental right now.”
Damian glanced between both of you once before speaking. “If they are truly remnants of the Order of Purity, then they will not stop after one failed infiltration.”
You frowned. “Order of Purity?”
“That was not their formal name,” Damian admitted. “But it is what the League called them privately.”
Jason crossed his arms. “And their goal?”
Damian’s expression darkened slightly. “To eliminate Gotham’s corruption permanently.”
A bad feeling curled deeper in your stomach. Jason noticed immediately. “What?”
You looked between both of them slowly. “Batman is Gotham.”
And then Jason swore quietly. Because yeah. Batman wasn’t just a person to Gotham anymore. He was infrastructure. Mythology. Control. If someone believed Gotham itself was corrupted, then destroying Batman became symbolic.
Damian nodded grimly. “Exactly.”
Jason began pacing again instantly. “Great. Fanatics. My favorite.”
“We should alert Father,” Damian said.
The answer came immediately.
“We still don’t know how deep this goes,” Jason snapped. “If there’s a leak connected to the cave, we keep this contained until we identify it.”
Damian crossed his arms. “You are operating emotionally.”
“And you sound exactly like Bruce right now.”
“I fail to see the issue.”
“That’s because you’re eight.”
You sighed heavily before the argument escalated. “Okay, don’t insult Bruce’s mini-me for like thirty seconds.” You looked toward Damian. “Can you identify any likely access points they’d target first?”
Damian’s expression sharpened immediately. “Yes.”
Jason blinked once. “Seriously?”
“I lived in the cave,” Damian said dryly. “Contrary to popular belief, I did occasionally pay attention.”
“Still rude,” Jason muttered.
Damian ignored him. “There are older maintenance shafts beneath the eastern foundations that Father rarely uses anymore. If these people possess outdated League schematics, they may attempt entry there first.”
Jason nodded slowly. “That tracks with the tunnel maps.”
“We should go now,” Damian said immediately.
Damian looked offended you even asked. “Obviously.”
Jason pointed at him instantly. “Absolutely not.”
“You brought them.” Damian pointed directly at you.
“They are actively bleeding.”
“Thank you,” you muttered.
Damian stepped closer. “I possess direct League knowledge.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
You physically pinched the bridge of your nose as the two of them glared at each other with identical stubborn expressions. Then slowly, your eyes narrowed. “Oh my god.” Both of them looked at you. “You do that thing with your face exactly the same.”
Jason looked horrified. “Absolutely not.”
Damian looked equally offended. “Impossible.”
“Literally identical,” you said.
“We are nothing alike,” they said simultaneously.
You burst out laughing. Jason pointed accusingly at Damian. “See? This is your fault.”
Before Damian could retaliate, a voice suddenly echoed from the upper staircase. “…Why does it sound like a hostage situation in the foyer?”
Every single one of you froze. Tim stood halfway down the stairs in pajama pants and a Gotham Knights t-shirt, hair messy from sleep, holding a coffee mug like he’d wandered into the world’s weirdest fever dream.
His eyes landed on Jason. The mug slipped from his hand. It shattered loudly across the floor. “Oh,” Tim said faintly.
Jason closed his eyes briefly. “We should’ve used the window.”
Tim was still staring. Not moving. Not breathing. Jason shifted awkwardly for maybe the first time in recorded history. “Uh.” Tim pointed at him slowly. “You’re here.”
“Technically trespassing, yeah.”
The volume cracked upward suddenly. And because the universe hated Jason specifically, lights immediately started turning on upstairs. Jason looked toward the ceiling in horror. “Oh no.”
Dick’s voice echoed distantly from upstairs. “Tim? You okay?”
Tim still hadn’t taken his eyes off Jason. “No!”
More footsteps. Steph appeared first at the top of the staircase wearing one of Bruce’s oversized hoodies. Cass appeared silently beside her. Then Dick. Then—
The entire manor went dead silent. Jason looked one second away from launching himself bodily through the nearest window. Dick stared openly at Jason like he’d stopped processing language entirely.
Steph gasped loudly. “Oh my god.”
Cass looked calm externally but her eyes immediately softened at the sight of Jason.
Bruce just stopped. Completely still at the top of the stairs.
Jason muttered under his breath, “I hate this family.”
“You came into the manor at two in the morning,” you whispered.
Damian crossed his arms smugly beside him. “Many mistakes.”
Dick finally moved first. Slowly descending the staircase like he was afraid Jason might vanish if he moved too quickly. “Jay?” he asked quietly.
Jason immediately looked irritated again, which you recognized instantly for what it really was: panic. “Oh my god,” Jason muttered. “Why are all of you awake? Do none of you sleep?”
Steph pointed aggressively. “YOU DON’T GET TO ASK THAT.”
Tim finally found his voice again. “You’ve been gone this whole time and THIS is how you come back?!”
Jason looked around wildly like he was searching for exits. “I’m leaving.”
“No you’re not,” Dick said immediately.
Bruce still hadn’t spoken. That somehow made everything worse. Jason noticed too. You saw it in the way his shoulders tightened again. The way his sarcasm suddenly felt more forced.
Artemis chose that exact moment to walk through the front doors with Bizarro behind her. She stopped dead. Looked at the entire assembled Batfamily. Then slowly turned toward Jason. “…You said this would stay contained.”
Jason looked genuinely betrayed by reality itself. “IT WAS SUPPOSED TO.”
The foyer had somehow become louder and quieter at the same time. Everyone was talking over each other. Steph was still staring at Jason like he’d risen from the dead, which, technically. Tim looked caught between wanting to hug Jason and throttle him. Dick hadn’t stopped watching him since coming downstairs. Cass stood near the staircase, still and observant, but you could see the relief in her eyes from across the room. And Bruce,
Bruce hadn’t moved at all. Jason noticed. You saw the exact second the pressure finally snapped something in him. “Okay,” Jason barked suddenly. “Everybody shut up.”
Shockingly, they did. Jason dragged both hands down his face roughly before pointing toward the living room. “We’ve got bigger problems than family therapy right now.”
Tim frowned immediately. “What does that mean?”
Jason looked at you once. Then toward Damian. Then finally toward Bruce. And for one split second you saw it again, that hesitation. That instinctive resistance to letting Bruce into this at all. But it was too late now. The family was already involved.
Jason exhaled sharply. “Somebody’s targeting the cave.”
Bruce’s expression changed instantly. Not emotional.
“What kind of threat?” Bruce asked quietly.
Jason visibly bristled at the tone alone. “League offshoot. Extremists.”
Damian stepped forward before Jason could continue spiraling into irritation. “The Order of Purity.”
That got Bruce’s attention. You saw it in the way his posture sharpened immediately.
Dick frowned. “The what?”
“A rogue League faction,” Damian explained. “They believe father corrupted Gotham by refusing absolute control.”
Steph blinked slowly. “Wow. That’s… somehow more insane than the regular League.”
Tim was already moving toward the batcomputer terminal hidden behind the grandfather clock. “How close are they?”
“Closer than we thought,” you answered.
Jason tossed the burner phone onto the coffee table hard enough for it to slide toward Bruce. “They already infiltrated Wayne infrastructure.”
Bruce picked it up immediately, eyes scanning the files with terrifying speed. His expression darkened. “Where did you get this?”
“Intercepted a shipment tonight,” Jason answered.
“And nearly got themselves killed doing it,” Damian added helpfully.
Every head in the room snapped toward you. You snapped. “Damian.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed instantly as he noticed the blood soaking through the fresh bandages beneath the borrowed jacket. “…You’re injured.”
Jason snorted loudly. “That’s a lie.”
You glared at him. “Traitor.”
Bruce stepped closer immediately. “How badly?”
“That is not a measurement.”
Jason folded his arms tightly. “League transport truck. Three assassins inside.”
Dick’s face paled slightly. “You fought them alone?”
You looked away. “Technically one escaped.”
“That is not the important part!” Tim snapped from the computer terminal.
Bruce’s jaw tightened visibly now as his gaze flicked toward Jason. And there it was. The tension. Raw. Immediate. Familiar. “You sent them alone?” Bruce asked quietly.
Jason’s posture sharpened instantly. “Don’t start.”
Bruce stepped forward. “You put them inside a moving transport against League assassins while already injured?”
“I completed the mission,” you cut in quickly.
“That’s not the point,” Bruce and Jason snapped simultaneously.
Steph slowly pointed between both of them. “Oh my god. They do the same voice.”
“Do not encourage this,” Jason muttered.
But Bruce was still staring at him. Not angry. Worse. Worried. Jason looked away first.
Tim thankfully interrupted before the tension could combust further. “Guys?” Everyone turned. Tim’s face had gone serious in a way that immediately made your stomach drop. “I found the tunnels.”
Bruce moved beside him instantly while the rest of you crowded toward the hidden computer screens.
Tim pulled up a 3D map of Gotham’s underground infrastructure. Red lines highlighted abandoned maintenance shafts branching beneath Wayne Tower and stretching toward the cave’s lower foundations. “There are at least six viable entry points,” Tim explained quickly. “And if Damian’s right about the Order of Purity…” He swallowed once. “Then they’re not trying to infiltrate quietly.”
Tim zoomed further into the tunnels. Explosives markers appeared. Your stomach dropped. “They’re planning a collapse,” you whispered.
Bruce’s expression went cold instantly. Still not Bruce Wayne. Batman. “They intend to bury the cave.”
“And everyone inside it,” Jason added grimly.
Silence crashed over the room. Cass spoke first. “They know.”
Everyone looked toward her. Cass’s eyes stayed fixed on the tunnel schematics. “Not just cave location.” Her expression tightened slightly. “Family.”
A chill ran down your spine. Because she was right. This wasn’t random targeting anymore. This was personal. For a second nobody moved. Then Bruce shifted instantly into motion. “Cave. Now.”
The single command snapped through the manor sharply enough that everyone reacted automatically. Dick was already moving toward the grandfather clock. Tim scooped the burner phone off the table while Damian sheathed his sword with practiced efficiency. Steph muttered something about “League cult murder people ruining perfectly good insomnia” as she followed Cass toward the study entrance.
Jason stayed where he was for half a second longer. You noticed it immediately. The hesitation. Tiny. Almost invisible. But real. His eyes flicked toward the grandfather clock, the entrance to the cave, like he wasn’t entirely sure he still belonged walking through it. Your chest tightened quietly.
Then Dick reached the clock first and shoved it aside, revealing the hidden elevator descending into darkness below. “C’mon,” Dick said softly.
Jason looked at him. Something unspoken passed between them for a second. Then Jason exhaled quietly through his nose and finally moved forward. The elevator ride down was strangely crowded. Not physically. Emotionally.
Bruce stood near the control panel, rigid and silent in the dim lighting while Tim and Damian argued quietly over possible tunnel access routes beside him. Steph leaned heavily against Cass’s shoulder looking half-asleep despite the literal terrorist situation unfolding around all of you.
Artemis stood near the back with her arms crossed, watching the entire family dynamic unfold like she still couldn’t believe these people protected Gotham professionally. Bizarro had to crouch awkwardly near the rear wall because he physically barely fit inside the elevator. “Tiny bat cave very dramatic,” he observed solemnly.
“You have no idea,” Steph muttered.
Jason stood beside you near the back corner of the elevator, helmet tucked beneath one arm. Silent. You glanced sideways toward him carefully. He was staring straight ahead. But you could see it in his face now.
The cave wasn’t just headquarters. It was childhood. Training. Family dinners at three in the morning after patrols. Arguments. Laughter.
Grief.
The elevator descended deeper underground. Then finally, the cave opened beneath you. Massive. Dark. Familiar. The Batcave stretched endlessly below in glowing blue light and shadow. Computer monitors flickered across the platforms while the underground river echoed softly through the cavern. The giant penny stood near the far wall beside the dinosaur like Gotham’s strangest museum exhibit.
The second the elevator doors opened, everyone spread instinctively into motion. Like muscle memory. Dick headed immediately toward the computer terminals. Tim moved beside him before Bruce even spoke. Damian crossed toward the weapons racks automatically while Steph and Cass took up positions near the central platform.
Jason stepped out last. And stopped. Your eyes softened slightly as you watched him look around. Nothing had changed. Not really. His old Robin suit still stood in the memorial case beside the others. The cave still smelled faintly like motor oil and old stone. Still hummed softly with computers and distant water. Still felt like Batman.
Jason looked at the glass case for maybe half a second too long before looking away sharply. Like it physically hurt. You stepped closer quietly. “You okay?”
Jason snorted softly without humor. “Fantastic. Love surprise emotional warfare at two in the morning.”
Despite everything, you smiled slightly. Then Bruce’s voice cut through the cave. “We need to move.”
And just like that, the moment disappeared. Everyone gathered around the batcomputer as Tim projected the underground tunnel schematics across the cave monitors.
The mission had started again.
Tim enlarged the underground layouts across the main monitor, blueprints washing the cave in cold light. Red dots blinked steadily along the tunnels beneath Gotham, each one tied to an entry point “We’ve got coverage on all six access points,” Tim said, tapping a few keys. “North tunnels, old rail lines, sewer junctions, and the collapsed subway route under Bristol. If anybody moves underground tonight, we’ll see it.”
“And if they realize we’re watching?” Artemis asked from beside the batcomputer.
Jason leaned back against one of the worktables, arms folded hard across his chest. “Then they stay put. Which means we sit around all night waiting for ghosts.”
“That’s still better than walking blind into a trap,” said Bruce.
The cave quieted slightly after that. Not tense exactly, just focused. Everyone knew the feeling before a long night. Too much adrenaline to relax. Not enough action yet to burn it off.
Steph spun once in the stolen cave stool she’d claimed for herself. “Love that for us. Nothing says healthy life choices like sewer stakeouts against murder cultists.”
“That is, statistically, most of what we do,” Cass pointed out.
“Yeah, but usually the enemies are less…” Steph waved vaguely toward the map. “…ritualistic.”
Bizarro tilted his head. “Bizarro like ritual murder cult.”
Tim slowly looked over at him. “Every time you talk, I discover a brand new concern.”
Bruce ignored all of it, already shifting into mission mode. He stepped closer to the central screen, cape hanging heavy behind him. “We split coverage. No gaps.”
Immediately, everyone straightened a little. “Robin. Orphan. Eastern tunnel access beneath the Narrows.” His eyes flicked toward Damian and Cass. “You’re closest to the water routes. If they surface there, contain them quietly and call it in first.”
Damian crossed his arms. “You say that as though subtlety is not already my specialty.”
Jason snorted loudly. Bruce continued without acknowledging either of them. “Spoiler. Red Robin. Upper manor perimeter and western grounds. Nobody gets near the estate unnoticed.”
Steph pointed at herself. “So we’re glorified haunted security cameras.”
Bruce’s gaze shifted again. “Nightwing monitors the Bristol rail junction and coordinates movement between teams.”
Dick gave him a lazy salute from where he stood near the Batmobile platform. “Copy that.”
“Artemis and Bizarro take Burnley access.”
Artemis nodded once. Bizarro looked thrilled by the possibility of underground violence. Then Bruce looked toward Jason.
The cave went noticeably quieter. Jason stared at him for a long second. “You assigning me,” he said slowly, “or babysitting me?”
Bruce didn’t blink. “You’re with me.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Jason pushed off the table immediately. “Yeah, no. I’m not doing patrol bonding exercises with Batman.”
“You’re not operating alone tonight.”
“And you think saying it in the gravel voice makes it less controlling?”
Dick rubbed a hand down his face. “Oh good. We’ve reached the nightly family argument portion of the evening.”
Steph pointed dramatically across the cave. “Thank you. I was waiting for someone else to acknowledge it.”
“I am not the issue here,” Jason shot back.
Damian looked genuinely offended by the statement. “You are almost always the issue.”
Jason pointed at him instantly. “You are eight years old and powered entirely by violence.”
“Ten,” Damian corrected. “And correct.”
Cass lowered her head slightly, clearly hiding amusement. Artemis muttered something in Greek under her breath that sounded deeply exhausted. Bruce finally spoke again, voice cutting cleanly through the noise. “Enough.” The cave stilled. “We move in pairs. Check-ins every thirty minutes. If anyone finds movement underground, you call it in before engaging. I want eyes on every tunnel until sunrise.”
Nobody argued after that. Not really because they agreed. Mostly because when Batman sounded like that, the mission had already started.
Hours crawled by after that. Nothing happened. No movement in the tunnels. No breaches. No League activity. Just silence. The kind that slowly made everyone more tense instead of less.
You ended up stationed near one of the lower tunnel entrances beside Jason after Bruce rotated patrol coverage around midnight. The concrete corridor stretched endlessly ahead beneath flickering maintenance lights while cold underground air curled through the cave system.
Jason sat on one of the abandoned crates nearby cleaning a pistol with aggressive irritation. You watched him quietly for a moment before speaking. “You know,” you said, “most people have hobbies.”
Jason didn’t look up. “I do have hobbies.”
“Brooding doesn’t count.”
You snorted softly despite yourself and shifted carefully against the cave wall, immediately regretting it when your ribs flared again.
Jason noticed instantly. “You should be upstairs.”
“You say that every ten minutes.”
“And yet you remain injured.”
“Observant as every Jay.”
Jason shook his head slightly before glancing toward the silent tunnel again. “I don’t like this.”
“They’re planning something.”
You frowned slightly. “You really think they’d wait?”
Jason’s expression darkened faintly. “League extremists don’t abandon operations because one shipment failed.”
Silence settled again. Then your comm crackled. “Everybody back to the main platform,” Tim’s voice echoed through. “Now.”
Jason was on his feet instantly.
The second both of you reached the central cave platform, you realized everybody else had already regrouped around the batcomputer. And nobody looked happy. Tim pulled up a new screen the moment Bruce approached. Wayne Enterprises event schedules. Public appearances. Press routes. Security maps.
Bruce’s expression sharpened immediately. “What am I looking at?”
Tim zoomed into one highlighted section. “I reran the intercepted League files against Gotham public infrastructure patterns.”
Tim looked grim. “The tunnel routes don’t line up with direct cave access.”
Jason frowned instantly. “What?”
“They line up with Wayne Foundation event locations.”
Silence hit the cave. Then realization slammed into you hard enough to make your stomach twist. “Oh no.”
Dick looked between all of you slowly. “They’re not attacking Batman first.”
“They’re attacking Bruce Wayne,” you finished quietly.
Damian’s expression darkened immediately. “Publicly.”
The cave erupted into motion again. Tim pulled up tomorrow’s Wayne schedule while Bruce moved beside him rapidly. “Tomorrow includes the Wayne Foundation gala,” Tim explained. “Plus two press appearances and a city council luncheon.”
Jason swore immediately. “That’s a sniper’s dream.”
“Or a bombing,” Artemis added grimly.
Bruce crossed his arms. “Then I cancel everything.”
“No,” Dick said suddenly.
Everyone turned toward him. Dick stepped closer to the monitors slowly, already thinking three steps ahead. “If Bruce disappears from public view right after we intercepted their shipment, they’ll know we figured it out.”
Tim nodded immediately. “And then they scatter.”
Bruce’s jaw tightened. “So Bruce still needs to appear publicly,” Dick continued.
“But Batman also needs to remain visibly active,” Damian finished.
Silence. Then slowly, everyone looked at Dick.
Dick blinked once. “No.” Steph immediately burst out laughing. “No,” Dick repeated more firmly. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re literally built like him,” Jason said.
“And you can mimic the voice modulation,” Tim added helpfully.
Dick looked horrified. “Why are all of you like this?”
Bruce, meanwhile, had already shifted into tactical consideration mode. “It would work.”
“You’ve worn the suit before.”
Dick pointed accusingly at him. “You are enjoying this.”
Bruce said nothing. Which was answer enough. Jason leaned back against the console with the first genuinely entertained expression you’d seen from him all night. “C’mon, Dickwad. You always wanted to be Batman.”
Dick looked deeply betrayed. “I hate this family.”
“You literally lead the Titans,” Steph said. “You’re basically emotionally qualified already.”
“THAT IS NOT THE SAME THING.”
Tim was already pulling up Wayne gala blueprints. “Okay, if Dick covers Batman patrol routes, Bruce can maintain public appearances without tipping them off.”
Bruce looked toward you next. Your stomach immediately dropped. “Oh no.”
“You’ll stay with me during the gala.”
“Because if they’re watching Bruce Wayne,” Jason answered before Bruce could, “they’ll expect visible family nearby.”
Tim nodded slowly. “Public cover.”
“You’re injured enough to make it believable too,” Artemis added.
You stared at all of them. “Wow. Thanks.”
Jason’s expression tightened slightly though. You noticed immediately. Not because the plan was bad. Because he hated the idea of you standing exposed in public while assassins potentially watched from rooftops. Unfortunately, he also knew it made tactical sense.
Bruce continued outlining the plan. “Batman patrol routes stay active tomorrow night. Red Hood monitors underground movement independently.”
Jason frowned immediately. “Why independently?”
“Because if the Order realizes Batman and Red Hood are coordinating directly, they’ll adapt.”
Jason looked like he hated that Bruce was right. Again. Dick sighed heavily before grabbing the Batman cowl off the display platform nearby. “If anyone ever tells Clark about this, I’m leaving the planet.”
Steph gasped dramatically. “Wait, can we do the voice?”
Jason immediately deepened his voice into a perfect gravelly imitation. “I’m Batman.”
Dick looked furious. Tim started choking laughing. Even Cass’s shoulders shook slightly. And somehow, despite the danger hanging over Gotham, despite the exhaustion, despite the impossible pressure pressing down on all of you, the cave almost sounded alive again.
The laughter faded slower than it usually would have. Maybe because everyone needed it. Maybe because the alternative was sitting with the reality that tomorrow night Bruce Wayne might walk directly into an assassination attempt while Dick wore a symbol he’d spent half his life trying to escape.
Eventually, though, the cave settled again. Tim minimized the gala schematics with a tired exhale. “Okay. Logistics.” He pointed toward the screens. “Bruce and—” he glanced toward you, “—our very unwilling fake socialite escort arrive publicly through the front entrance at eight. Security teams stay visible. Batman activity starts forty minutes earlier on the east side of the city.”
Dick still held the cowl like it offended him spiritually. “I can’t believe this is my life.”
“You literally cartwheeled through laser fire in spandex last week,” Steph reminded him.
“That felt less humiliating somehow.”
Bruce ignored them and continued reviewing the security routes. “If they’re watching the gala externally, they’ll expect Batman to respond somewhere visible nearby.”
“Which means I’ll need to be seen early,” Dick muttered.
Tim nodded. “Exactly. Enough witnesses that nobody questions Bruce being inside at the same time.”
Jason crossed his arms tighter. “Meaning if things go wrong at the gala, Bruce is temporarily without backup.”
“I’ll be there,” you said immediately.
Jason looked at you flatly. “You got thrown through a moving truck six hours ago.”
“And yet I survived. Inspirational.”
“You are so annoying.” His eye twitched slightly. Steph snorted into her sleeve.
Bruce finally straightened from the computer screens. “We rotate rest in shifts until morning. Tim monitors the trackers remotely. Everybody else gets at least a few hours.”
“Rest,” Damian repeated skeptically, like the concept itself sounded suspicious.
“Yes,” Bruce said. “Humans require it.”
Damian narrowed his eyes. “You say that while actively functioning on approximately forty minutes of sleep.”
Jason pointed at Damian immediately. “See? This is why he’s your kid.”
Bruce sighed once through his nose. And somehow that was more exhausted than if he’d argued back. People started dispersing slowly after that. Artemis vanished toward the training wing with the clear intention of sleeping nowhere near the rest of the family chaos. Bizarro followed loyally behind her after asking if caves counted as “inside camping.”
Cass lightly touched your shoulder as she passed. “Be careful tomorrow.”
You softened slightly. “You too.”
She nodded once before disappearing after Damian, who was still muttering tactical concerns under his breath. Eventually the cave emptied until only Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, and you remained near the central platform. Tim looked like he was seconds from collapsing face-first onto the keyboard. “I’m staying with the tracker feeds.”
Bruce frowned slightly. “You need sleep.”
Tim gave him the flattest look imaginable. “And you need therapy. We work with what we have.”
Jason barked out a laugh. Bruce looked deeply unimpressed. Dick finally set the cowl down on the workstation beside him a little too carefully. Like if he moved wrong, it might suddenly become real. Unfortunately for him, it already was.
“I know.” Dick rubbed both hands over his face roughly before looking toward Bruce. “Run me through your patrol patterns again.”
Bruce’s expression shifted slightly. “You already know them.”
“I know Nightwing patrol patterns,” Dick corrected quietly. “Batman moves differently.”
That silenced the cave again. Because he was right. Batman wasn’t just a suit. Batman took up space differently. Looked at people differently. Fought differently. Even stood differently. Bruce walked toward him slowly. “You don’t have to imitate me perfectly.”
Dick laughed once under his breath. “That’s easy for you to say.”
Bruce stopped beside the workstation. “Dick.”
“No, seriously.” Dick looked up finally, frustration slipping through again beneath the exhaustion. “Do you know how weird this is for me?”
Jason leaned back against the console quietly watching now. Dick gestured vaguely toward the cowl. “I spent years building something separate from Batman. My own city. My own symbol.” His jaw tightened. “And now Gotham gets dangerous for five minutes and suddenly everybody goes, ‘Good news! You get to become your emotionally constipated father again.’”
Tim made a choking noise trying not to laugh.
Bruce looked offended. “I am not emotionally constipated.”
Four people stared at him in silence. Jason looked genuinely astonished. “That may be the craziest thing you’ve ever said.”
Even you snorted. Bruce’s expression flattened immediately. “You’re all very funny.”
“No, B,” Dick said tiredly. “That’s the problem. This isn’t funny to me.” The humor drained out of the cave almost instantly. Dick looked away again, shoulders tense now. “When I wore that suit before…” he admitted quietly, “people stopped looking at me like I was Dick Grayson.” His voice roughened slightly. “I became what everybody needed Batman to be.”
Jason’s expression shifted subtly at that. Understanding. Because maybe out of everyone there, Jason understood the weight of Batman better than anyone. Dick folded his arms tightly. “And every time I put that thing on, part of me feels like I disappear again.”
Silence settled heavily around the platform. Bruce looked at him for a long moment before speaking. “You won’t.”
Dick let out a soft humorless laugh. “You can’t promise that.”
“No,” Bruce admitted quietly. “But I can promise you’re not alone in it this time.”
That seemed to catch Dick off guard more than anything else had all night. Jason looked away immediately afterward like the sincerity physically pained him. Tim abruptly clapped his hands once. “Okay. Great. Family vulnerability hour is officially over before I start crying into the batcomputer.”
“Please don’t,” Bruce said immediately. “The keyboard sticks.”
That finally earned the smallest smile from Dick. Tiny. But real. Bruce noticed too. Then, after a brief hesitation, Bruce looked toward Jason. “You should stay in the manor tonight.”
Jason immediately groaned. “Oh my god, we were doing so well.”
“You’re compromised emotionally.”
“And you’re sending your eldest son to impersonate a trauma mascot at a gala.”
Dick pointed sharply. “THANK you.”
Bruce ignored both of them. “If they target the manor directly while everyone’s focused on the gala—”
“I know,” Jason interrupted quieter this time. The irritation faded slightly from his face. Just enough for the exhaustion underneath to show through. Bruce studied him for a second before nodding once. “Get some sleep.”
Jason snorted. “You first.”
Then he pushed away from the console and started toward the stairs. Halfway there, he paused beside Dick. Looked at the cowl. Then at Dick. “…You’ll be fine,” Jason muttered awkwardly.
Dick blinked once. Because coming from Jason, that was practically a heartfelt emotional speech. Dick’s expression softened despite himself. “Thanks, little wing”
Jason looked horrified by the sincerity immediately afterward. “Don’t make it weird.”
Jason flipped him off over his shoulder as he disappeared toward the elevator. And for the first time all night, the cave almost felt like home again.
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