A/N: I've wanted to do this since last July when I posted that tiny one-shot (which technically will occur in this verse, but this is serving as a prequel), but I was a patient bird and waited till BvS actually came out. Laurel's death is heavily speculated and this is basically what I would do...to an extent. I'd keep her alive but Arrow writers hate her. I'm also going to do my best to connect the two worlds, but mostly I'm just implanting Laurel into Bruce's world. Some of the Arrowverse characters will appear, but this is mostly focusing on the movie universe.
Timeline wise this is rather soon after BvS and definitely before Suicide Squad. Man of Steel happened before Laurel was BC so I figure she just believed whatever the news would play, knows of Superman but didn't think much of it, and BvS happens while she's 'dead' so she knows just what the papers and TV played.
Beware of movie spoilers. I tried to avoid them but it was pretty hard.
This is a transfer from ao3 that I've been meaning to do for like ever.
Laurel woke screaming. Screaming so loud and so hard that she felt like she was going to burst. She couldn't stop. She didn't wantto stop. Even as the people around her fell to the ground, the glass shattered, and everything effectively became a disaster zone…she wanted to scream until she just couldn't anymore. It was freeing and for once she felt powerful.
She never got to feel that way.
Not the feeling lasted all that long. Before she knew what was happening her back was against the ground, hitting with a thud, a hand grasped tight around her throat until she stopped.
Well that was one way to do it.
The once almighty grip loosened from around her throat and she found her ability to breathe returned, looking up at the person she didn't recognize climbing from off of her. Her own hand moved to her throat and rubbed it. Not that it felt any different, but that scream was new. Once she looked around her she realized the people she was surrounded by were just as new, along with the environment she was in. She tried to figure out exactly what happened but her brain wasn't giving her much help. Trauma could do that to a person.
What she did remember was the horror that Malcolm Merlyn put her through. She chose to continue to largely ignore it. Instead she focused on how sore her body was. She couldn't remember being that sore in a long while. Slowly, the former vigilante sat up as she found her breath returning to normal, the panting gone, crossing her legs in front of her as she refused to stand. There was a pain in her chest, causing her hand to slip from her throat to the bandaged area. That was one of the few things she didn't need to ask about.
They had been taking care of her. That didn't help with her confusion.
"What happened?"
The only way to get answers was to ask, but they didn't give her anything. They just stared at her like she was some new kind of mystical being. She supposed she was. The sound emitted from her wasn't anything that she ever made before, or even anything the gadget Cisco made her could emit. It was different. More her. Her mind drifted to thoughts of Ray and Barry. Things happened and they were suddenly amplified versions of themselves. That wasn't exactly putting it accurately though. But it was all she could think of.
She suspected no one around her was giving her answers because they didn't know much more than she did.
That wasn't comforting."
The powerful feeling fell away from her and all she could feel was how out of control she felt...and how defeated she felt. It reminded her of a similar feeling she felt when Tommy died, but she didn't want to slip down that hole again. She couldn't slip down that hole again.
After a few moments she found two women dressed in black helping her up and guiding her in silence to her room. She wasn't put in the pit, a pit, that much she knew, but what happened wasn't clear.
It annoyed her.
She didn't know anything and for someone who was a lawyer...knowing nothing only ever got her into trouble. Death almost found her once...knowing nothing could only hurt her. If Malcolm came after her again she wouldn't be so lucky.
Patience was a virtue and eventually that virtue would pay off as she later learned it was Nyssa who helped her. She was far from Star City, somewhere in Asia, where she didn't quite know. Nyssa had taken her there under the guidance of Oliver to let her heal from the wounds sustained by Malcolm. Laurel wasn't the only casualty. Malcolm and Darhk had formed some kind of evil alliance and it was the two members of the Lance family in Star City that were the casualties.
As the days passed certain bits and pieces came back to her. One of those was watching the death of her father. It began to haunt her. Each time she closed her eyes it was Damien taking his revenge...on them both. It was a nightmare she could do without, but one she would never be able to escape. She escaped with her life but the scars would remain. Now she was under protection of those once associated with the League of Assassins that didn't quite exist anymore, a favor by Nyssa, because they were friends.At least until Nyssa disappeared from her life, someone she probably wouldn't see again, or at least, for a long time.
For all intents and purposes Dinah Laurel Lance was dead.
The room she was assigned to vaguely reminded her of the time she and Thea brought Sara to Nanda Parbat to use the pit...against the wishes of nearly everyone. She didn't regret what she did in order to save her sister. Those were just memories now. All she could focus on was being there and vaguely feeling like she was in some sort of prison. She felt alone. She was alone. It was her in a strange place with strange people trying to recover from the damaged done onto her by Malcolm.
A stab wound by a sword to the chest was a grave injury and took a lot for her to truly recover.
Until then she was left alone with her thoughts. Not that she was a stranger to that.
Part of her always felt like alone even when she was on team, but this was a new kind of alone. Everyone thought she was dead and that meant, much like Roy, she had to act as if she actually was. That meant no contact with anyone. It was difficult to not reach out to Thea or Felicity. Nyssa offered her a few kind words before disappearing off to tell Sara the truth, but it was just her in a village where she knew nothing, no one, and had a hard time communicating thanks to their lack of English and her lack of knowledge with any language that wasn't English.
Was this the way her life was going to be from now on? Nyssa didn't tell her how long it would last or where she would end after that. She had to entertain the idea that her death was permanent, and she would very well need to think about what a new life she would want for herself.
She mostly stayed in the room until she was well enough to move without feeling like her chest was suddenly going to rip open. The isolation was difficult, but moments came in which she would just wander around in the fresh air, among the trees and flowers, the bright sun making her feel like she was in an oasis. One of the few things to keep her from going completely crazy. She had enough of those moments to last her a lifetime.
Finally a time came in which she was deemed well enough to move. Not that she got any answers.
It started with meditation. She didn't find she was all that good at meditating. It irritated her to be sitting around and doing absolutely nothing. Shutting her mind off was near impossible. She was a lawyer at heart and there wasn't really ever a time when she was doing nothing. Even when her sister and Oliver were dead...nothing about her was sitting idly by. She had to go to law school. All she could do was pick up her jaw off the floor, suck it up, and move on. Tommy tried his hardest to get her to relax but she never did.
It took a couple of days but the mediation eventually brought her peace. Or as much peace as a girl with obvious PTSD could find. It only lasted as long as the session did before she was spoken to in a language she still didn't understand. She got the general gist of the meaning, however. Enough for her to actually survive without starving to death or accidentally doing something to offend someone.
That lasted a couple of weeks.
By then her wound was mostly healed...at least to the point where it wouldn't open up anymore the training began. Training she didn't know she was going to be exposed to.
It was tiring.
Since Sara died, Laurel spent all of her spare time at the gym. Day in and day out she was doing some sort of training, but the near lethal blow given to her by Malcolm stopped that. She was lying around doing nothing and her body had gotten used to the new normal. She was tired by the silliest little things and once she started up again she felt like she wanted to die.
Mercy didn't exist.
There was nothing she could do but get back up on the horse. Day in and day out of training was her new normal. Most of the time she ended up on the floor and she lost. She had skill sure, but what Ted and Nyssa taught her could only go so far. She learned that as she went against some who had been training their entire lives. Experience meant everything.
Eventually she came to know Lady Shiva and if there was one person that scared Laurel to her core it was her. Not that they did much talking. It wasn't like with Nyssa where the two women formed a friendship over the death of Sara. It was one hundred percent a business arrangement. Still, the name felt familiar and she couldn't place why. The couple of days leading up to her incident were a blur, except with the murder of her father, along with the two weeks after it. An effect of trauma, she knew, but that didn't make it any easier to cope with. There were ways of getting those memories back, but she was sure she wasn't ready. She didn't want to slip into something she couldn't pull herself out of. Her moves were careful and deliberate. One day she would push herself but that day would not be today.
Three weeks in, or at least what she assumed to be three weeks, she didn't exactly have a calendar, they blindfolded her and took her in the middle of a forest. Being in a strange country, in a strange forest, in the middle of the night where the only real light she had was the dull light they gave her, along with the full moon in the sky was a recipe for disaster. It was the only time Laurel thought she was actually going to die.
She didn't. How she wasn't sure.
She struggled through and managed to find her way back. By the time she did she was starving, dirty, and marked up pretty bad with blood stained clothes. She stopped thinking about all she was doing and instead used her instincts to survive. That night she learned more about herself than she ever did in Star City. It was the first night she beat more people than beat her. It felt great.
That night she was so exhausted when she hit her bed she didn't dream of Malcolm once.
Her training ended weeks later with a ticket to Gotham was set in her front of her along with a bag of her things...courtesy of Nyssa she assumed.
Asking questions only got her no answer so she took the ticket and flew to Gotham. It was a city she knew about thanks to her incessant need to watch the news and it being on her birth certificate. Not that she ever actually spent much time there. It was probably just like all the others.
At the bottom of her bag was a wad of cash. Most was from her bank account, drained, suddenly thankful that she was more of a saver up than anything any. There was also some extra she assumed was from Thea. The note only proved her right. Some kind of parting gift. It felt weird taking it but it wasn't like she could exactly give it back. So she kept it.
The day she got into town was the day the newspaper spoke of how Superman died. She couldn't help but wonder if he was really dead or if it was a ruse of sorts. After all, the Black Canary would no longer be running around Star City. The Black Canary would disappear from the eye and the team of vigilantes would be something else entirely. One short. She was sure they would be okay, but she was lying if didn't say she missed it.
The suit just didn't mean the same thing anymore.
Most of her time was spent focused on the city she lived in as she tried to navigate it so she wasn't completely lost. Occasionally Star City crossed her mind, but that only led her to think of everything she lost. Central City didn't do her much better. She felt a sting at Cisco thinking she was dead. He was supportive and she had a feeling Oliver wouldn't let him in on it. It was better that way but it didn't make it any easier to stomach.
Everyone who ever knew her needed to think that she was dead. It was what her mom needed to think...the only truly alive member of the Lance family. Her father died just as she had, only he was really dead, and Sara was never supposed to be alive. She was off finding herself after the Hell she went through. She vaguely wondered if her mom would fight for her the way she fought for Sara...the way she just knew she was alive.
That was a thought she couldn't let herself focus on. Her relationship with the elder Dinah was complicated to say the least. Ever since finding out she knew Sara was on the boat with Oliver things had never been the same. That didn't mean she wanted her own mother to think she was dead, but she had no choice.
If Malcolm Merlyn had his way she would have been dead instead of sitting on a mat medicating somewhere in Asia she wasn't even allowed to know the location of. Most of the time she was afraid if she opened her eyes there was going to be a sword going through her with the satisfied look on his face. Funny enough that was the same image she had whenever she closed her eyes.
She never trusted Malcolm. Ever since she found out all she wanted was his death for what he did to Sara. Sara, her sweet little sister who deserved so much better than the way life handed her shit over and over again. She finally found that and while Laurel didn't quite know where she was Oliver assured her that she was safe...and if nothing else she did trust Oliver. At least more than she ever had. To be fair he hurt her a thousand times over it wasn't the easiest thing in the world to trust him.
But after Malcolm she had to rethink her life. Damien was coming after them all and she was the next target. He killed her father without thinking twice and her mother wasn't even on their radar, Sara was safe off in no man's land and Laurel...Laurel knew she would never go back to the life she had. Oliver, Thea, and Diggle all promised her that they would be okay. Assured her that they could handle themselves.
Gotham reminded her of Star City. Vigilante in Batman, corruption running rampant, a billionaire in Bruce Wayne. Oliver Queen….the Arrow...corruption. Or maybe a good handful of cities were like that.
She didn't know why they sent her to that city, but the truth was she needed a place to lie low for a while, and it wasn't like she had many options. Everywhere she would be a stranger and alone. The very least she already had the plane ticket.
Laurel was an expert at avoiding her problems. She did it after the death of tommy and she was doing it then at the death of her father. Letting herself train was the perfect way of avoiding the grief that ached in her chest. But there was no sense of distraction then. There was nothing that she could do in order to hide from the demons that were chasing her.
And she had so many demons that were chasing her.
She found herself sitting on the floor of her motel room, dying her hair a dark brown from the box of dye she bought at the corner store where she hoped no one knew who she was. The city was on the opposite side of the country how could they have possibly known who she was? They couldn't. Or at least that was what she thought. But the longer she sat there the longer her thoughts got away from her and she began to feel more and more broken.
Her grief felt heavy and she wanted a drink...that's how she found herself at the bar.
Sara's leather jacket was tight around her as she slowly walked in and looked around. No one knew anything about her and that, as an addict, she shouldn't have been there in the first place. She didn't know what she was doing and constantly thought about leaving. Was she really willing to throw everything away for one drink? One drink that would turn into two...that would only send her down into a spiral.
Laurel didn't know, which was why she stayed.
"Can I buy you a drink?" A male voice asked seconds after she took her seat.
"I don't know." She turned her head then to the man who slid into the seat effortlessly next to her. "I don't imagine many people say that to Bruce Wayne."
"No," he smirked with a soft shake of his head, "they don't."
Bruce bought her one anyway.
"You're the last person I'd expect to see here and judging by the looks on the faces of everyone in here I'm right." Laurel's gaze darted to everyone around them. It was hard to miss the looks of everyone in the bar wondering what he was doing there. It wasn't exactly a high class joint, and well, billionaires didn't just walk into any place. Those thoughts she have made her far more suspicious, but she was internally focused on whether or not to drink the drink.
Throwing away her sobriety wasn't worth it, she knew deep down, but her life wasn't much of a life anymore. It was her in a strange city where she was alone with her thoughts. She lost everything at the hands of Malcolm. Every thing that happened in her life could be traced back to him. Tommy...Sara...her father...her. Sure, her dad had been killed by Damien but without Malcolm maybe they would have changed the course of fate? Or was that too foolish of a thought?
She should have been enamoured by Bruce sitting next to her, like half the girls in the bar were, but her eyes were so focused intently on the drink he bought her...he could have stood from that seat and she probably wouldn't have know the difference.
At least until he spoke.
"Not everyday a dead girl walks through Gotham."
She stiffened slightly, goosebumps covering her with how close he was. Her eyes lifted from the drink as she turned her head to actually look at him. "I don't know what you mean."
"You see, Miss Lance, when the former girlfriend of two billionaire playboys dies….even Gotham reports it." His hands pushed her hair from her shoulders, it falling along her back. "Some hair dye won't cover it." His thumb brushed over a spot behind her ear. "You left a spot."
Laurel bit down on the inside of her cheek in order to keep her composure. Poker faces weren't always her best, but right then it had to be. "Are you following me?" She finally asked once she realized how damn long it took her to find her voice. Her gaze drifted from him and moved back to her drink, stirring it with the little red straw, worrying about him more than her sobriety.
"I was already here." His voice was casual.
"Is that why that girl is thinking about murdering me?" She asked as she looked up at a blonde with quite the low cut dress. "Poor girl...lost her chance to take a ride with Gotham's playboy billionaire."
He smirked and she hated how much she liked it.
"If she kills me you're getting haunted."
"Something to look forward to," he whispered as he took a sip of his own drink. "Of course, you're already haunting me."
She stood up, not willing to take the risk anymore.. "Thank you for the drink, Mr. Wayne."
"You didn't drink it."
She smiled then, hand finding his shoulder as she moved into him, before whispering in his ear. "You never said I had to drink it." Laurel didn't wait for a reply before she moved to find the exit. Not that she made it there with the way he grabbed at her wrist and pulled her back to him effortlessly.
"You left this," he said, looking down at her as he held out what left behind.
It was a sobriety chip and she took it from his hand as she looked it over. She felt his grip released and he pulled back enough to give her space. "Thanks."
That time when she made it to the door, chip in hand, she made it outside. Her ever ongoing issues with addiction weren't exactly a secret, but with him knowing who she was and how she wasn't dead, along with being Bruce freakin' Wayne of all people she didn't feel any better. But she was sober. Stone cold sober and that was something. She wouldn't let this turn of events ruin her life. The memories of those she loved deserved more than that.
Laurel's first assumption that Gotham was just like Star City was wrong. It was nothing like she imagined it would be and it was nothing like she was used to. It was darker if that was possible. The entire feel of the city made her feel different...the people made her feel different. She hadn't quite decided how she felt about it.
It took her a couple of days to find her footing. She didn't go by Laurel, instead she went by Dinah. Did it really make that much of a difference? Probably not, but it was never a name she went by so it made all the difference to her. That with her name plastered everywhere as Laurel...along with her now darker hair...it was her different but herself all at the same time.
She just couldn't let herself go completely.
The motel room was something forgotten as she found herself a decent enough apartment to rent on the downlow for a while. She knew she could handle herself so she wasn't all that concerned about the location of it. It was the loneliness within in that was more of a threat than anyone could be.
After the death of Tommy she spent most of her time alone. The only time she was around people was when she was at work, but that ended up spiralling her into something that made her the worst version of herself. Everyone was disappointed in her and she was disappointed in herself. She should have been stronger than she was. Only she couldn't go back in time. No matter what she thought of herself during that time or what anyone else thought of her there was nothing she could do to reverse it. All she could do was realize that she was stronger now and not allow the events of Damien and Malcolm ruin her completely.
They didn't deserve the satisfaction.
Sitting in her apartment was the last thing she needed so she grabbed her jacket and found herself walking through the cool night air of Gotham. Dangerous, sure, but she needed some kind of distraction. If anything happened surely she could handle herself.
Not that turning down an alley was a good idea….even in the daylight. When she looked up she noticed that she was face to face with Batman. Talk about luck. She wasn't doing anything wrong and yet, there was an instant intimidation.
Her gaze was only focused on him for a few moments before the sound behind her caught her attention and there was a bullet making it's way to her. She didn't have time to get out of the way and instead felt it hit her, a scream emitting from her throat, that was less of a scream and more of a cry. It wasn't intentional, which made it all that worse. She heard windows shattering around her and the men falling to the ground, before her own consciousness was waning and she was struggling to keep her balance.
Laurel did her best to brace herself against the wall, but it was to no avail, eventually closing her eyes and vaguely feeling the strong arms catching her before she fell to the ground.
It was a few hours before Laurel regained consciousness. She slowly sat up, her hand flat against the metal she was lying on, struggling to keep herself from toppling over. The last thing she needed was more injuries to her ever growing list. That and she really didn't want to make a fool of herself...wherever she was. That probably should have been her first priority.
She blinked a few times before she regained her sight back, able to see around her. It was dark mostly, glass everywhere she turned, which couldn't have been good, and what looked like...rock walls over anything else. But that couldn't have been right? The last thing she needed was to be kidnapped in some strange place in Gotham where no one but Bruce Wayne of all people knew who she was.
They hadn't spoken since the night in the bar and that was well over a week ago. She didn't exactly think they were going to be fast friends or she would ever see him again when he wasn't on the front page of the paper for some big event he did that the town residents praised him for. Not that he wasn't deserving, he was. It just wouldn't be all that helpful to her in the moment.
She let out a breath as she swung her legs around so they were hanging over the edge, but then her side started to burn. Not the first injury she had, but the leather jacket that Sara gave her wasn't exactly made out of the same stuff her Black Canary suit was. It went right through her and she could feel the obvious stitches closing her wound.
"What the Hell?" Was all she could whisper to herself as she lifted the hem of her grey t-shirt, one that was stained with blood, and noticed the wound was closed. Swollen but closed. Small thing.
"Ah, you're awake." The voice of an elder man came to her.
Laurel studied him for a moment. He didn't look threatening, but that didn't exactly mean anything. Growing up she didn't think Malcolm Merlyn would turn out to be the glorious douchebag he was, but that changed all too quickly. "Where am I?"
He didn't quite reply and instead handed her a cup. That didn't make her less suspicious. "Outpatient recovery."
She wasn't amused. "What is this?"
"Tea." He answered as if it was the most obvious thing.
She just glared for a moment before looking down in the cup before sniffing it. It seemed normal, but the last couple of months told her that her life was anything but normal anymore. So she asked, "Anything in it?"
"I could read you off a list of ingredients if you so desire. But trust it will not kill you. That bullet removed tried that for us."
She arched her eyebrow then. "Who are you?"
"Alfred Pennyworth."
The name didn't register with her, but nothing really did. The only reason she knew Bruce, Superman, and Batman was because she had the ability to pick up a paper. "You know who I am."
But before an answer she was greeted with the presence of someone else. She heard him before she saw him, trying to turn but with the injury on her hip it proved very quickly to be a bad idea. It hurt like hell.
"The Black Canary is a metahuman."
Laurel swallowed and instantly knew the voice. It was the very one who whispered in her ear that night in the bar and the one who stopped her from drowning her sorrows in a drink and ruining all she had worked towards. She took a sip of the tea to give her a moment to actually come up with a reply. This whole thing was getting weirder and weirder by the moment. Suddenly...it seemed like sending her to Gotham wasn't that much of an accident. After she swallowed she set the cup down and looked between the two men her senior. "The Black Canary doesn't exist anymore." She was firm about that. Suddenly as he appeared Alfred disappeared, leaving her alone with the billionaire. "I should go." She stood up against all better judgement. Her legs gave out and suddenly she was in his arms, looking up at him with something of a huff coming past her lips. "Or not."
He sat her back down on the little table and stepped back...watching her. It was weird.
"How did you know?" Laurel asked as she finally broke the silence.
"That Oliver Queen, his little sister, his bodyguard, his former girlfriend, and his current girlfriend were the vigilantes in Star City. You're not the best at disguises."
Fine, she couldn't deny that. She was the one who shed her wig and they didn't really bother with the voice things anymore. Some suits and eye masks that didn't really cover all much weren't going to make them hidden from view. Especially given she was sure her face was all over the news after her death. Putting Damien Darhk in jail didn't help matters. She couldn't remember how many interviews she gave about it. All saying the exact same thing...justice prevailed. For a moment, at least. Justice seemed to lose in the end.
But he wasn't done, "Dinah Laurel Lance dies and the Black Canary is nowhere to be found…"
She put her hand up, "Okay, I get it."
"When did you become a metahuman?"
She yanked down part of her shirt and exposed the top of the scar that her trauma left with. "When that happened." Her fingers ran over the all too smooth skin, her eyes closing as she could see him above her. She opened her eyes almost as quickly as she shut them. Laurel didn't exactly want to relive her trauma while he was looking on.
When she opened her eyes and focused on him she was aware of how handsome he was. That night they met she hadn't taken too much notice. He looked older standing before him, but then she realized he was older. Older than her and Oliver that was for sure. Probably older than John. The flashes of grey running through his hair only made him look more. "You're the batman," she finally stated. It wasn't much of a mystery as she looked around and well, he still had part of the suit on. She was a lawyer, not a world class detective.
Bruce looked down at his attire before looking at her. "What gave it away?"
Laurel laughed. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed, but that only made her smile. The smile fell away soon thereafter. "I suppose I should thank you for this."
"Alfred," he corrected. "I'll pass it along."
"Where's my jacket?"
Bruce stepped away from her and grabbed it for her. "It's probably destroyed. Blood, bullet hole..."
"It was my sister's." And why holding it shouldn't have made her feel as she did, she couldn't help the way she swallowed to keep her composure. Sara was very much alive, but they were world's apart. It was Laurel that was now the dead one.
"She was with Oliver Queen when the Gambit went down."
"I'm not telling the story," she told him.
"I didn't ask."
"Because you already know." Easy enough conclusion.
"Because I already know."
It was then Laurel put the jacket on. She didn't care about the blood or the hole in the side of it. After doing her best to look at herself in it, not an easy feat while injured and pretty much stuck sitting there she sighed. "I loved this jacket." Not that she was going to get rid of it. She was going to keep it and leave it as some kind of memory. "What was that bullet laced with?" She didn't feel like herself, but she didn't feel too bad either. That was a danger zone.
"Nothing that won't pass." He answered, leaning back against a table, arms crossed in front of him.
"Nothing that I'll get addicted to?"
"I think you'll be okay."
Laurel had no reason to trust that he was giving her an honest answer, nor did she think she should take his word at face value. She did anyway. Maybe because he was the only person worthy of her trust. Batman wasn't going to hurt her. She didn't know a ton about him, but she knew enough. "I don't know how to control the canary cry."
"Canary cry?"
"It was a choker. It amplified my scream, but this one is real. I don't know how those things work."
Bruce nodded. "I have some idea."
"Why do you care that I'm me?" She asked. "You knew in that bar, didn't you?"
The guilty look on his face was enough to tell her the truth, "You know about Superman."
"It's all the paper and the news talk about."
"There should be a team," he grew more passionate and it was impossible to not notice how personal it was for him. "One who can work together and who stop those things from happening. Those kids and families don't deserve this. The people of Gotham deserve to know their city is safe. No more Zod or Lex or Doomsday. This city has lost enough. The people deserve better."
"And me because...I stumbled in."
He shook his head, "Because you're worth adding."
Laurel really wanted to believe that. People didn't really believe in her, so for the man before her to believe in her in any way was...not something she could just blindly accept. She was the weakest link. Even with her added training...the trust she put forth was not always the trust she got in return. "You don't even know me."
"I've seen enough."
"Who else is this team?" She was too curious to not ask.
"Wonder Woman."
"Wonder Woman?"
"Like Superman…" he trailed off, clearly thinking of her, "but not."
"Is she your girlfriend?"
"No."
Laurel didn't give Bruce any kind of real answer. What was she supposed to do? Her identity to Malcolm and Darhk were not a secret. If word spread that Black Canary was running around a new city she'd be dead in the first week. She tempted fate once. Was she really going to do it again? It was for the greater good and there was nothing more that Laurel wanted than to help people. It was why she became a lawyer in the first place. It was why she continued on with being Black Canary when it was anything but easy. But how many people could she help if she was dead?
That and she didn't need to be the weakest link on the team. It wasn't fair. The man before her had been doing it longer than she'd been out of high school and if Wonder Woman was truly anything like Superman she could probably beat every hero she's ever known and still be on the winning side without a single hair out of place. She had more training, yes, and she was better than she'd ever been before. She could hold her own quite well against criminals before, and now she was only more confident in her abilities.
"Can I sleep here?"
"Sure." But then she just laid down. "I have a bed."
"I'm fine."
She just needed sleep.
When she woke up she instantly recognized the bed she was laying in as her own, a stark contrast from the cold metal she was on the night before. She couldn't help but wonder if it was some kind of a dream. Her hand fell to her side and she sucked in a sharp breath at the pain. No, it wasn't a dream. The night before was some weird kind of reality. She thought the vigilante part of her life was over. Not because she wanted it to be but because it had to be.
Even with the possibility laid out before her it didn't seem like it was truly possible.
The knock on the door was what caused her to actually get out of her bed and make her way over to the door. She opened it to be greeted by no one and instead was greeted by a box sitting on the step of her door. She stepped out into the hallway to see if she could see anyone, but no one was around so she grabbed the box and shut the door behind her. She set it on the small kitchen counter and opened it, spotting the note before tearing into the mystery beneath it.
Your old one was ruined on my account. Least I could do was replace it. - Bruce Wayne.
She set the note down and picked up the leather jacket that was brand new. It was nice, she had to admit, and having one that wasn't stained in blood and had a hole in thanks to a bullet was even nicer. Even if the one he gifted her didn't hold the sentimental value her ruined one did. She saw the way 'The Black Canary' was stitched into the collar….and that was the thing that really made her smile.
Stupid.
Her Black Canary suit got ruined in her choker was the only thing she had and even then it wasn't all that useful anymore now that she had the ability to use the cry on her own. But the jacket made her feel more like the identity she shed.
It meant a lot.
It meant so much that she found herself wearing it wherever she could.
She found herself employed at a gym, much like the one she was taught by Ted Grant in, using the skills she learned from Ted, Nyssa, and the one Lady Shiva to give her something to do with idle hands. It wasn't like the dead girl could walk into the Gotham DA's office and see if she could find herself a job. That part of her past had to be a part of her past.
It kept her profile low and it made her feel better about what she was doing.
"My dad make me take these when I was about your age," she smiled to the young girl who was standing opposite of her, "kind drag, but you know what they're good for? Beating up guys can be kind of fun...only when the deserve it. Trust me, they will." The young girl smiled and so did Laurel. "Now hit me."
The girl gave her her best punch. A good start but the sunlight from the opening door distracted her for a moment. But it was the person who walked through the door that took her by surprise. It was Bruce.
"That's Bruce Wayne," the girl she was training whispered.
"Yeah, it is. I'll be back." She looked around, "Could you help her for a minute, Emma?"
"Yeah, Dinah."
Laurel walked over to where the guy was standing against the back wall near the door. She started using Dinah just because. It was a better fit now than using Laurel. At least with the others. "You're gonna give everyone a heart attack."
"You're avoiding me," he announced, looking around before settling his gaze on her.
"I'm not." One look from him and she shrugged. "Thanks for the jacket."
"It was nothing."
"Right, you got that whole broody billionaire thing going on." But she noticed the way he smiled. "I've been busy."
"Here." It wasn't a question...more like a judgement.
"Here." She answered it like it was one anyway. "Did you come all this way to see me?"
"I was in the neighborhood."
"I know you do a lot of good for this city, but this isn't one of your spots."
"Reading up on me?"
"No." She smiled. "But if I were I definitely would be very amused with how much time they spend gossiping about you. Though from my share of playboy billionaires it's not all gossip is it?"
He leaned in then, "everyone needs a cover."
"Do you have somewhere to be?"
"No." He said carefully.
"Might wanna lose the vest and the tie...and anything you hold valuable."
"Why?"
"Live a little, Mr. Wayne."
Laurel walked back over to the girl and that was when her mother appeared. "You're doing good." She confirmed and it felt good to say that. Being a lawyer was a different kind of good, but her in the gym giving girls the ability to not be the victim was a good all on it's own.
But then she was aware of Bruce standing there and couldn't help but be amused at just how out of place he looked. She pulled him towards the ring and sipped in, watching as he followed along. Once he was standing straight up he noticed the way he rolled up his sleeves, lost the vest, and unbuttoned the first few buttons to his shirt. It was probably the most casual he ever looked.
It also wasn't that hard to see why he was so well liked.
He didn't remind her of Oliver or Tommy. At all.
When she looked him all she saw was Bruce. Pure Bruce. A guy who was more than a decade older than her, not as polished as she'd of expected, calm and quiet, but worn. Everyone knew the story of his childhood. You had to be living under a rock to not to. Just like everyone knew the story of the Queen's Gambit going down. She was the girlfriend of playboy Oliver Queen and then it came out her sister was on that ship.
Needless to say it took them months to leave her alone.
Then she was the girlfriend of dead Tommy Merlyn. It took them months to leave her alone all over again. Laurel was always in the crossfire, but he didn't look at her different. She appreciated that. He didn't know anything about her and so he treated her like she was just another girl. It wasn't until she was in his presence did she know that she wanted that.
Everyone knew Laurel as the addict. Or someone's girlfriend. Or Sara's sister. And no one ever let her forget it.
She got freedom when she was in the courtroom. She was doing her job and being the lawyer she always strived so hard to be.
Now she didn't have that. This gym in a really seedy area...seedy for her standards...for the standards of Gotham...seedy for all involved was what she had.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Bruce's voice shook her from her thoughts.
"Nothing," she denied.
There wasn't really a rhyme or reason to spar with him. He was there and she took the opportunity. The gym had mostly emptied out. It well past an acceptable hour to eat dinner, but she was far more interested in this.
Laurel moved to strike him first but he caught her hand. All she knew of Batman was the stories she heard in the streets, but those were more tales someone would find in a movie. They didn't tell her all that much and so she decided she was going to learn for herself. Even if it was as dumb as sparring with Bruce in the middle of a gym. Everyone would just think she was a girl falling into his trap, and that was a title she could live with.
When he moved to strike her she avoided him and tried her best not to smile. Everything about Laurel was always cocky and nearly always got her into trouble. They both continued to spar without landing anything real and he knew he was holding back. It was frustrated her. Frustrated her so much she went at him harder before he caught her and her body was back against his, his arm holding her against him at her throat, the rise and fall of his chest.
"You make foolish mistakes," he whispered in her ear.
She really could have kicked herself for the way she was more focused on him then what he said. His breath was hot against her ear and it made her really distracted. "Really know how to make a girl go wild."
"Gotham is dangerous. You need to better anticipate your opponents."
"I'm teaching self defense to teenage girls in a gym," she countered, a bit of a bite to her words. " I think I can handle myself."
"Laurel...or is it Dinah now?" His tone was something of a warning, mixed with something that was quite the opposite. "Cocky gets you killed."
"Being a Lance gets you killed." There had to be some kind of curse on her family. "You'll be the only one who knows. Say a prayer." She slipped out of his grip but he was quicker than her and her back hit the floor. Laurel looked up at him for a moment before sweeping her foot as he moved and down he came, hand catching himself on his hand with a thud so he hovered above her.
"Working out pays off," she complimented, "I can't do it." Finally addressing the entire reason he was there.
"Why not?"
"You were there that night. I need control."
He remained above her, his eyes never shifting from her. "They didn't die."
"That's not the point." She met his gaze after doing her best to avoid it.. "I don't have a suit either."
"You're not going to find anything you're looking for hidden away in a gym."
She studied him and didn't think he'd anticipate her next move, taking the small window where Bruce wasn't on high alert, landing her being the one on top of him.
"Do I need to hover too?" She asked with a little bit of that cockiness seeping back into her attitude.
"You're better than you're letting yourself think you are."
"But not as good as you," she finished before he could go on.
"I've been doing this twenty years.. No one is."
"Okay, grandpa."
Bruce just glared, which made Laurel smile. Before she looked down, only to realize the awkwardness of them and got off of him, fixing her shirt once she was standing..
He followed her lead and stood, stopping in front of her, looking down, the height difference glaringly obvious then. "The self doubt will ruin you before anything else does. Don't let it."
Laurel's eyes followed him as he left the ring and redressed himself, a long silence between them. "It's not that easy." Her words only spoken as he put his hand on the door.
"I know."
A/N: I followed exactly zero rules in Laurel becoming a metahuman so take that with a grain of salt if you will. I still like to live under the assumption you have a gene for it, and it needs to be activated somehow (in the case of Arrow a trauma). It's vague and sketchy and I apologize, but it is what it is.