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So that’s how Bruce found himself, sitting on the windowsill, his feet both inside the room, both hands up in the air in attempt to convince the two little girls looking at him with wide eyes that he wasn’t a threat.
The littler one looked more scared than the other. The older one just seemed… startled, maybe. The little one looked outright terrified. Her bright blue eyes bore into Batman with so much intensity, it took his breath away.
Because.
She did, in fact, look exactly like Talia. Except for the eyes.
The eyes.
He saw.
In the mirror. Every day.
“Hello,” he tried, as he slipped down fully on the ground, allowing the curtain to close behind him. Once it was firmly shut, he slowly reached up and pushed his cowl back, revealing his face to the two girls in the room.
Normally… he wouldn’t. But. If the girl was.
“I’m Batman,” he said, to the still terrified looking girl. The other one had looked away, briefly, down at a book in her lap, but was looking again, this time with a little… disinterest, maybe.
“Bruce. You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said, his eyes darting between the two of them. He settled on looking at the little one, and added, “I was a friend of your mother’s.”
The littlest girl continued staring at him. She didn’t seem surprised or anything.
Just. Terrified.
Perhaps she was so scared, she didn’t have room for any other emotions. She had a stuffed animal clutched in her arms, held tightly to her chest, as she shook slightly. A quick glance at the other girl showed her looking at Bruce curiously, but her face still nearly blank. Nearly, because Bruce could tell she was deep in contemplation, her green eyes calculating.
The bathroom door clicked open, at that point, and in the blink of an eye the little boy was barreling across the room. “Get away from her,” he shouted, as he drew a knife from his sleeve.
Bruce caught the boy’s arm easily, disarming him in one swift motion before gripping his wrist tightly.
“Stay away from my sister,” the boy growled, though he didn’t try to free his wrist.
Give me an alt Arcane season 2 ending where Viktor is returned to "normal," and everyone is happy, alive, and fine. And when searching through some rubble of Piltover, Viktor discovers his old cane. His leg is better due to the Hex core, but he looks back at Jayce, who, due to his broken leg, having not healed properly and needs a brace now. Gently uses his abilities to adjust the cane's size to Jayce's height and weight and hands it to him, saying, "it seems you need this more than I do now."
Am I saying Viktor has no need for a cane now? No. But he doesn't need the type he used to have. While Jayce now needs something to actually lean on.
Idk. I only use a white cane, so if you want to adjust this idea more to the needs of actual disabilities (especially if you have experience), go ahead.
I finally got around to it so here is the alternative ending - please note that it leads directly on from the end of CH 15 - here and follows some of the same scenes!!
I hope you enjoy - feedback is always greatly appreciated - I would love to know people's opinions on whether I should repost ch1-15 in this fic to make the alt dovquez ending a complete work OR just do what I was planning which is post the alternative ending (2 chapters and epilogue) without 1st 15 chapters and have in the same series....
Thank you for your support friends :)
Which is better
repost ch1-15 plus rewritten 16,17, epilogue for alt ending
Only publish the edited dovquez chapters - people can read 1-15 on the original
Voting ended onApr 15, 2025
Marc doesn’t know how it happens, just that one moment he’s out of the shower, ready to settle down for the evening, glowing in the aftermath of another win and trying to ignore any thoughts of Valentino. The next, he is being dragged into the rapidly cooling night air by one of Valentino’s minions. Fucking typical. He cannot seem to escape the older man, no matter where he turns.
The bitter sting from their confrontation earlier is still burning. He doesn’t know what to make of it- his head is still spinning, his heart smarting. He thinks that he loves Vale, but, well, he doesn’t know. It is difficult when you are faced with what you have always wanted, when it is finally within grasp, and you suddenly have the sickening clarity that it burns. Even worse, when Marc realises that the only reason he might get Vale is through guilt – Valentino spent a decade hating him and now, since he has seen the damage it caused, he feels remorse. Marc doesn’t want their potential relationship to be a product of guilt rather than affection. If Valentino sees him as weak, then this is pretty much pointless. A curdled dread sits like lead in his stomach- what if Valentino leaves again? It would ruin Marc, there would be nothing left afterwards.
It is unknown whether a relationship could be built on their rubble from before, the ashes of their past. Marc doesn’t know if he wants to run the risk. It hurts that only pity could bring about their reconciliation. He doesn’t want Valentino to see him so vulnerable, lest he realise Marc isn’t the one he wants.
He stumbles next to Pecco, questioning why the fuck he has been taken from the warmth of his motorhome and whether he is about to be murdered.
(Unlikely, but never impossible)
To his surprise, Pecco pulls him to what looks like Valentino’s motorhome, which is a bad idea. Marc tries to pull away, but Pecco keeps his grip tight on Marc’s arm and, a second later, is shoving him through the door. Marc turns to glare at the younger man; this all feels very unnecessary (and stupid). A quick scan of the room tells him that (thankfully) Valentino isn’t present. Even the boys wouldn’t be that stupid anyway, he thinks.
Marc keeps his head down once he’s scouted the room, trying to blend into his surroundings. Pecco keeps pushing him forward. He doesn’t think this is a good teammate-bonding exercise.
On the sofas, a few of the boys are lounging, scrolling through their phones or talking between themselves. To Marc’s surprise, it’s Mig who greets him first with a quick ‘ciao’ and a friendly smile. The others continue in kind. None of them seem confused by his presence, which suggests that this was planned. Marc struggles to wrap his head around why they’ve committed to this; he assumes that Pecco is simply the designated kidnapper for the evening.
Luca is up by the sink. He twists around at the sound of chatter, smiling softly but bemusedly when he sees Marc.
“Sorry,” Luca offers, “It wasn’t my idea, but the others think some forced bonding might make it easier for Vale”
Luca laughs incredulously at the idea. Bez immediately scrambles to his feet and launches into a defence.
“It’s a brilliant idea; Valentino has to realise at some point that he’s being stupid-”
“Said the one who only realised two weeks ago”, Cele mutters. Bez shoots him a glare and turns back to Marc with wary eyes.
“Yeah, sorry about that”, Bez begrudgingly murmurs, avoiding eye contact.
Marc stares, and there’s another awful pregnant pause as the room looks on. Marc assumes this is a pretty defining moment for their relationship.
He sighs.
“It’s fine. It’s too much effort to hold grudges. You hate me because of what Valentino has said, he’s your hero. I don’t blame you.”
Pecco claps a hand on the back of his neck. Marc tries not to flinch. Since Dovi and Dani left the paddock a few years ago, Marc’s been pretty isolated. He isn’t used to the casual touching that comes naturally to these boys. He doesn’t know whether to pull away or lean in.
There he goes again, thinking about Dovi. There is something categorically wrong with him today.
Bez stands and pulls Marc into a slightly stiff half hug (Marc’s sure that they will get there) before he slumps back onto the sofa, practically on top of Cele, causing the younger to squawk and fall into a fit of giggles.
Like that, the tension is broken.
Luca rolls his eyes and turns back to the kitchenette as Pecco leans up against the counter next to him. Marc stands awkwardly for a second but perches on the sofa’s edge when Franky pats the space. He feels out of place, too jagged for the smooth comfort of the motorhome. The boys are so comfortable in each other’s presence, whereas Marc feels like an intruder. He is content to listen quietly whilst the others talk.
Underneath his skin, discomfort prickles. He isn’t meant to be here, he is scared that if he opens his mouth, they will all flinch, push him away, and realise what they have done. Or he will say the wrong thing and be accused of evil or something. He is too stiff, his spine upright as he perches on the sofa. Luca keeps looking over at him, and Franky too. The latter is typing frantically, at one point stopping to squint between Marc and his phone. Marc pointedly doesn’t look back.
He misses Pecco and Franky’s shared glance over his head, too busy watching Bez and Cele interact. Marc thinks they are the youngest of the main academy group; they certainly act more childish together, like the younger brothers of the group. An odd mix of boyish humour and pining glances is shared between them. It's somewhat sweet.
He wonders whether they’re dating.
A hand lands on his shoulder, and he jerks, immediately freezing and hoping it isn’t too obvious. He stays still, not daring to glance at where Franky’s hand rests. He tries to act normal; it’s just someone (one of Valentino’s students) touching him (someone other than Alex) as if that’s something that ever happens at races (it doesn’t; it hasn’t in years).
Marc relaxes slightly as the conversation continues around him, no one drawing attention to the way Franky’s fingers curl over his shoulder, hovering slightly as if he’s afraid to fully commit to touching. The stiffness in Marc’s body ebbs as he sinks into the touch, allowing Franky’s grip to become a grounding presence. He tries incredibly hard not to overthink.
(He fails)
Marc is so stuck in his thoughts that he barely notices Luca and Pecco moving, only registering when Luca tucks himself into the final space on the sofa between Marc and the arm. Pecco trails after him, sitting on the floor in front of them and launching into a discussion with the others. It places Marc firmly between Franky and Luca, with Pecco shifting to lean back against Luca’s legs. On the adjacent sofa, Bez is still practically in Cele’s lap, joking around with Mig as if used to it.
There is a poke to his leg whilst he is distracted, followed swiftly by another. His attention is drawn to Pecco, whose finger is raised as if mid-attempt three. Marc raises an eyebrow.
“What do you think? Rain or no rain?” Pecco asks.
Marc hums under his breath, considering. He is glad Pecco has brought him into easy conversation territory. It has been glorious all day, but there are talks of it turning overnight, as it had yesterday. It is uncertain but not off the radar completely. Spain tends to be hot, even in September, but it isn’t unusual to have rain showers. He says as much.
He wonders why Pecco asked so out of the blue. The younger man simply nods in assent and moves the conversation on. Marc doesn’t suppose Pecco is hoping to gain much through Marc’s prediction of the weather, so he shrugs it off.
Franky shifts, draping his arm across Marc’s shoulders now. Marc unconsciously relaxes into the touch, leaning into Franky ever so slightly. It is odd how quickly he is adapting to this behaviour. His shoulders drop, and he falls back against the sofa.
Marc doesn’t notice Franky’s pleased smile, nor how his phone vibrates in his hand. If Marc had been less tired and more engaged, he might have pieced together that his brother had a hand in this.
Alex knows him better than anyone else; he knows that Marc will let his guard down when he feels comfortable. The boys have done a frighteningly good job of acting normal despite the forced proximity. Their joking and complete lack of interest in what Marc’s doing makes it easier for his mask to slip, just a little bit.
If Marc was thinking clearly, he would realise that the impromptu physical contact is Alex’s doing, too. Marc isn’t very tactile in the paddock but always reaches for Alex when they’re close. Alex likes to tease him about being “touch starved”, and Marc always pouts until he relents.
It explains why Marc can’t help but melt into touches, though, like with Dovi last weekend or Franky now. He hates that Alex is right; so long as he has time to adapt, he loves physical touch. It’s his love language or something.
Of course, Franky and Luca have been nominated as instigators due to their general neutrality towards Marc. And with the help of Alex’s expertise, it’s proving fairly effective, with Marc feeling more and more settled as time passes, slipping into a state of sleepiness.
Marc tries his hardest to keep up with the rapidly moving discussion (currently- the best wet races of all time). He contributes as much as he can without overdoing it and makes a conscious effort not to be too much.
If he and Vale don’t work out, Marc wonders if the boys will still accept him. He hopes so. He isn’t sure he could bear being hated again, especially now that they all know. He sighs, wondering why he is already thinking as though he and Valentino have no chance. Conditioning, perhaps.
Someone is talking; Marc hopes it isn’t directed at him since he’s managed to zone out again. It's tiring, trying to keep up, to act normal, especially on a race weekend. The exhaustion is threatening to overcome him; he can tell by the way his eyes are drooping and his muscles are relaxing.
Marc yawns into his hand. Luca laughs.
“Tired?” He asks.
Marc shrugs. “Long day,” he says, blinking sleepily at Luca. It's slightly embarrassing the way he has shifted into the taller man's warmth. He doesn’t really know when it happened. Someone still has their arm across his shoulders (Franky). It should feel weird (it doesn’t).
“Long month”, Marc corrects himself with a wry grin, his words slurring.
Luca is the only member of the group he has been friendly with before, the person he probably feels safest with. He can feel his eyes shutting of their own accord and tries to shake himself awake.
The others are chatting between themselves, no one is paying attention to Marc. Luca smiles softly at him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He falls silent after that, in a state of half-awareness, still leaning into Luca’s space. Time feels slow and syrupy as he sinks into the warmth.
He will be embarrassed after, but now, he doesn’t care. He hasn’t had companionship on the grid for so long, apart from Dovi, and then he, too, left. Marc feels a deep sense of sadness at the thought. There is something about Dovi at the moment, his feelings about the older man, that Marc can’t quite put his finger on.
The conversation continues around him, but Marc doesn’t notice. The sound is muffled; the only notion he has is the soothing rumble of Luca talking and the occasional shift of Franky’s arm.
If he tries hard enough, he can pick out the words. He doesn’t. Marc lets his breathing even out, and a blanket of calm settles over him. Content.
*
Pecco is trying to think of another time he has seen Marc so vulnerable. It was only when he and Bez stormed into his motorhome in Misano. Before then, it would have been 2015—after that, Marc’s walls had been built, tall and unscalable.
So, the sight of Marc, potentially asleep, sprawled on top of Luca, Valentino’s little brother. Well, it’s giving Pecco whiplash. It’s sort of sweet, the way Marc curls into Luca’s body heat (Pecco would be jealous if not for Marc’s clear preference for older men). It’s also incredibly at odds with the image of Marc, which has been painted in his head for years. He doesn’t think a ruthless and cruel man would practically cuddle up to his rival’s little brother.
It makes Pecco feel vaguely nauseous, the way Valentino was the one who triggered Marc’s wariness, his pain. It is clear to see as they deconstruct his walls brick by brick. Pecco is sure he isn’t the only one feeling this way, judging by the look on Franky’s face.
Honestly, Pecco doesn’t think he could forgive Vale if he was in Marc’s shoes. The older man was Marc’s hero before he turned the whole world against him. Pecco was there, he vaguely remembered his horror when Vale had begun to talk to the Italian media. He wonders if, in a different time line, Vale would have done the same to him, or Franky, or Bez.
It doesn’t portray his mentor in a flattering light.
He thinks about the way Marc had instinctively relaxed the other night, surrounded by Dovi, Dani, and Jorge. He considers how easily he seemed to be with Dovi, how the older man looked at Marc like he hung the moon and the stars. Pecco purses his lips, thoughtful. Looking at Marc now, it is hard to reconcile him with the same man who was throwing up in a press conference a few weeks ago. A lot has happened, he supposes.
Pecco turns to Franky with a sigh,
“Do you think Valentino deserves Marc after all of this?” he questions.
Franky raises an eyebrow, motioning for him to continue.
“I don’t know, it’s just – insane, isn’t it? He has caused so much pain for Marc, more than we ever knew. And now he just expects Marc to take him back? I mean, I wouldn’t. If I were Marc, I mean.”
Franky hums thoughtfully; Pecco wonders if he has spoken to Alex about this already – the younger Marquez clearly disliked Vale, unsurprisingly. He tries not to imagine being in Alex’s shoes, finding his brother on the brink of death. He shakes his head, dispelling the thought before it can form.
“Not to mention- Well- the way Dovi looks at him, it isn’t exactly just friendly, right? And they have some history – we found out the other night. It just – oh, I don’t know, it would make more sense.” He rambles, unsure what he was getting at, but feeling a deep well of pity for Marc.
Franky interrupts his musing with a pointed nudge. Before Pecco can respond, they’re interrupted by the front door banging open.
Marc stirs.
They all stare at him.
Valentino storms in.
Luca sighs.
“Who does he think he is?” Valentino seethes.
“Vale-” Luca tries to interrupt with little success.
“Honestly, he drives me crazy, I can’t believe Marc even likes him. It's so freaking stupid.”
Marc grumbles unhappily at the noise, trying to push himself further into Luca and the sofa cushions. Luca pets his head. It makes a funny image, Pecco thinks, a bit like a cat.
Valentino is pacing now, completely unaware of the looks he’s receiving.
“He goes and talks to the freaking media and goes on and on about Marc and how talented he is. He sounds like Casey. Then-”
He turns to the group- arms thrown into the air for dramatic effect
“-Then he corners me and tells me to be careful. Can you believe it?? I have to be careful. Tells me not to hurt him. Like he has any right. Fucking Dovi” Valentino protests
Luca scoffs, distaste clear in his tone. Pecco was right then; he could tell by his boyfriend's rigid shoulders that Luca saw the same thing between Marc and Dovi. He thinks maybe he agrees about who would be better for Marc, too.
Valentino stops mid-rant, his eyes falling on Marc and Luca. The former of whom he has only just noticed. His eyes widen in shock as he abruptly cuts off, his arms falling to his sides. His expression would be funny if not for the circumstances.
Time stops.
The whole room holds their breath, waiting for a reaction.
The peace lasts approximately 5 seconds.
“Can you please shut up?” Marc grumbles, shoving his face into Luca’s sweatshirt.
Then his eyes fly open, and he shoots upwards.
“Fuck” he scrambles off Luca and the sofa, eyes darting around the room.
His hair is fluffy and askew, his body tense, a second away from taking off.
Pecco and Franky groan in sync. The smile has fallen off Vale's face. Marc’s eyes are wide, huge.
He trips over himself in the haste to get to the door. No one says anything.
“I’m just- um- I’m going to go”, Marc stutters, pointing at the door.
He glances at Luca, then flicks his eyes to Franky and Pecco.
“Thanks for the um- yeah, thanks,” he says, his voice strangled.
He bolts before anyone can reply.
Franky is the first to move, standing up and whacking Valentino on the backside of the head.
“What was that for?” Valentino whines, reaching a hand up to rub his head.
“You know what. Get your shit together already” Franky says
The group breaks into sniggers, and the tension melts immediately.
Valentino stares longingly at the door.
Pecco frowns at Luca, who looks deep in thought.
When Luca quietly slips out 5 minutes later, Pecco doesn’t hesitate to join him, grasping his hand just before he can disappear into the night.
*
They find Marc, thankfully, in his motorhome. Alex is unsurprisingly there, too. It is the younger who opens the door, raising a curious eyebrow at the two, but moving aside to let them in after only a second of deliberation.
Marc looks fine, which is reassuring if a little far away. He looks up when they enter the room, smiling through his evident confusion.
“Hi”, he says quietly, a question present in his tone.
“Hi Marc”, Luca replies, returning his smile and taking the offered seat.
“I’m sorry for leaving so quickly, it was really rude of me- I just- Panicked. I think”
Pecco watches on silently as Luca smiles kindly at Marc.
“No, no. That is okay, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. I know Vale can be a lot. Too much sometimes.”
As if sensing Marc’s discomfort, Luca jumps to change the conversation away from Vale, returning so he can face Alex too.
“Are your parents here this weekend?” Luca queries.
Pecco wonders what they are doing here; he knows that it isn’t so Luca can make small talk. They continue to exchange polite words for some time, and it’s nice, actually.
The Marquez brothers actually provide quite good company, and Pecco finds himself joining in, contributing to their conversation and giggling along to Marc’s stupid commentary about his mum’s constant worries. He wonders if all of their parents are the same – they should form a support group. He says as much aloud, which sets them all off into another round of laughter, Luca leaning into him slightly as he chuckles.
In the next lull, Luca speaks.
“You know, we won’t hate you if you don’t choose Vale?”
Marc startles, staring at Luca in confusion.
“I- what?”
“I think you know what- and who- I mean. But I mean it. Valentino has made a lot of mistakes. No one would blame you if you couldn’t forgive him”
Marc is silent for a second.
“I do forgive him”, he whispers, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
Luca smiles, slightly sadly.
“Then you are a better man than most, Marc. That doesn’t mean you have to still love him. Nor does it mean you have to date him. I just. I wonder if you need to hear that. It’s okay to be confused.”
Marc looks up with such shock in his eyes, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing, and yet underneath there is relief. Pecco thinks maybe that is exactly what Marc needed to hear, and his heart swells for Luca. He can’t believe he got so lucky to have such an empathetic, thoughtful boyfriend – he reaches for Luca’s hand.
Marc tracks the movement, the way Luca curls his fingers around Pecco's. He sighs.
“I thought I loved him. I think I still do. It’s just. There’s so much to forgive, so many unknowns. It scares me. I’m not sure I can trust him with my heart. Not again.”
Luca hums in consideration; Pecco doesn't speak aloud, but internally, he agrees. He doesn’t blame Marc one bit.
“We won’t stop speaking to you. Or being there for you, even if Vale doesn’t like it. It's difficult, yes? There has been a rift for many years, but it'll be worse for all of us if we open it again.”
He shoots a look in Alec’s direction,
“Although Franky seems to be doing that well”
It makes the tension drop, and Marc and Alex both crack smiles. Pecco breathes harshly.
“Honestly, Marc, I think he’ll understand, or he will at some point. He needs to come to terms with it either way. He did this to himself. “
“But what if I lose him again? I don’t think I can do another decade of him hating me. Of everyone hating me”
Luca huffs. “He may be stupid, Marc, but even he isn’t stupid enough to make such a colossal mistake twice. He will let it go. He knows that he fucked up. Trust me, I am not trying to make you feel sorry for him. You should have seen him last week – I’ve never seen him so desperate.”
Marc clenches his eyes shut. Trying to will away the all-consuming guilt. Pecco wonders if Luca is telling the truth he
“It's okay to let him go, Marc. You don’t owe him anything,” Luca whispers. Pecco senses that the conversation has drawn to a close, Alex shooting him a thankful look, also eyeing up their joint hands with a small smile.
Pecco knows what’s coming before it’s said
“So, when did this happen?” asks Alex, a cheeky grin already in place.
Pecco huffs, nudging his boyfriend gently. It was only a matter of time before everyone else on the grid clicked anyway. He glances at Luca, a small smile gracing his features, wondering which of them will explain their steady route from friendship to love, which was so natural that Pecco barely even realised what was happening until he had a lap full of Luca.
Pecco and Luca leave not long after, having been suitably grilled and ribbed for their relationship. As they go, Pecco smiles at Marc; he goes for something honest, trying to convey his support without it being interpreted as pity. He follows Luca out.
Marc calls out, making them both turn in the threshold, Luca with one foot already outside.
“Thank you. Both of you. For everything,” Marc says. Pecco will never stop being intrigued by the older man.
“Whatever you chose, Marc, we'll be there this time.”
With that, they let the door shut softly behind them, shoulder to shoulder, as they treck back to Pecco’s motorhome.
