Author's Note: Welcome to the story! A few notes before it starts: one, yes, this is a sequel. No, you don't have to have read the original story (titled Justice League Divided). The events of the previous story are mentioned in passing and you'll have a good, grounded understanding of what happened as the story progresses. As for people who read the previous story, you'll remember that I co-wrote the story, my friend and I splitting the chapters roughly evenly. This has changed. Now Gavin is only responsible for one character, Deathstroke, and the rest is all up to me. It's a lot of fun to write and I hope you enjoy the story. It takes place around six months after the fall of Watchtower at the end of Divided. I hope you stick along for the ride. Don't forget to follow and favourite, leave reviews! You know how we feel about them. They make us blush.

A FAMILY of BATS

"I'm still not used to your new haircut," Bruce said, nodding in Diana's general direction. She didn't see the nod, though – her eyes were elsewhere, gazing outside the window. There was something she seemed to like about cars, something Bruce could not understand. He wondered if what she enjoyed was the passivity; the fact she she had to do nothing at all and the car would keep going, or if she liked not having to be in control over her direction, her speed.

Maybe she likes the freedom.

Her hand reached up towards her hair and she turned back around, looking at him. They were on opposite sides of the limousine; Bruce didn't like to get too close, for worries that it would make Alfred uncomfortable. The glass between the driver and the passengers could be blacked out, of course, but Bruce didn't see the need. Bruce and Diana slept in separate rooms; their relationship was difficult to categorise at the best of times. And, with a permanent lodger in Dick Grayson, any change in that arrangement would be met with quips and retorts aplenty.

"I am still not accustomed to these dresses," she said softly, running her hands across her waist. The fabric clung to her, shaping her even more than her armour had.

"You can wear your armour around the manor. I doubt would Ares look for you here."

Her head turned and she smiled at him, weakly. Maybe that wasn't the best joke to make, he thought ruefully. Diana had been tormented inside over her decision to take Circe's life, and when the god of war Ares announced that he would begin to hunt for Wonder Woman to avenge his consort's death, she had tried to slip away to see Ares.

"They will take you and sentence you to death," Bruce had told her. Returning from a night dealing with a super-charged Poison Ivy, who had set herself up in an old laboratory, he'd found her writing a letter informing him of her intent to leave. "You will have no trial, no rights."

"Do I deserve rights, Bruce? I took her life, no matter what she had done –"

The news had deeply shaken Bruce too, but he had to be strong – for both of them. "Circe was vile, Diana. She made her choice when she sided with Brainiac. Raven backs up your story. If you hadn't, then Zatanna –"

" – would be dead and Circe would be facing justice! Instead I had her blood sprayed across my face when I slew her. My thinking was clear: life would be easier if she were gone, but where do I draw the line, Bruce? One death is how it begins."

He hadn't known what to say. Bruce Wayne had watched as Diana cried in front of him, and he hadn't even reached across and held her. His guts had churned and his mind told him to comfort her, but he'd done neither. He'd watched and regretted, because what she had done was wrong. On every level, it was wrong…

But I forgive her, because she can't forgive herself.

The relationship between the two of them had faded and, though Bruce had initially been filled with hope at the prospect of living together, the reality had been a world apart. They slept in different beds, in different rooms, in different wings of the house. Bruce slept closer to Dick than he did to Diana. It didn't bother him – one day, maybe. When things were fixed. When villains didn't run rampant around Gotham, when the city didn't need Batman as much as it did right now.

After persuasion that had taken months, Nightwing had convinced Bruce to take one night away, a night with Diana. They'd gone to a ball and he'd presented her as a close friend to no suspicion – some of them, no doubt, thought she was an escort. A high-class escort, but one nonetheless. Looking at her now, it was impossible to tell she was a princess of another world, an Amazon. Her formerly long and voluminous black hair was short and straight, tumbling around bare shoulders; the make-up she wore, instructed on putting it on by Barbra Gordon, changed her into a new woman entirely. Paler, less like someone from the sandy beaches of Themyscria.

"Will your break for tonight last the entire night, or just now that you're home?"

Wondering what the answer was she wanted to hear, he said: "Now that I'm home."

She nodded a distant nod and her eyes turned to the outside again. Bruce looked out his own window and saw gargoyles mounted on the brick columns. The Wayne family had always used gargoyles in their architecture; all through Wayne Manor and the old Wayne Enterprises buildings, gargoyles. Some nights he just sat on them, crouched, looking around. There was nobody to see him all the way up there, but he could see anything. From his stone perch he often wondered if that was how Superman felt, flying over the city of tomorrow. Bruce had some doubts on that front. Gotham more accurately met the criteria for the city of yesterday, with maybe the highest supercriminal-to-citizen ratio in the world.

The gates swung open at their arrival and they travelled up the winding path to the front of the manor. Outside rain was beginning to fall hard. When the car stopped, Alfred got out and opened Diana's door first, holding an umbrella up for her. Bruce sidled along the car seat to her side and exited via her side. Alfred, conflicted at who to offer the umbrella to, eventually decided that the best course of action was to please the lady with superhuman abilities. In his position, Bruce Wayne would have made the same choice.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, holding back slightly. "There's someone in the house."

Bruce squinted at the door and saw what Alfred meant; the door handle was horizontal.

"How do you know?" Diana asked.

"When you lock from the outside, you raise the handle slightly to lock it, but it doesn't fall back down," Alfred explained, voice low. "When you close it from the inside, the handle is as you see it now – straight and horizontal."

Bruce went in first, followed closely by Diana. Even without his suit and equipment, he would still prove a formidable opponent in a battle. "Diana, stay here."

Her eyes parted in confusion. "What –"

"If it is someone looking for you…" He didn't finish the sentence, but she nodded all the same. Alfred came in behind Diana and closed the door, the sound of pouring rain from outside dying in intensity.

Slowly, Bruce made his way through the main hall of the house and saw light coming from the main sitting area. He peered inside the room and saw nothing but the light moving erratically, cast by the alight fireplace. Whoever they are, they're in there, he thought. Drying themselves off in the rain?

He pushed the door open quickly and looked around. There was a shape to the door and he thrust his fist out; the figure blocked it and served a follow up. He tried to swipe the woman – he was fairly certain it was a female – at her legs but she proved too quick for that. Their arms flashed back and forth, and she moved with a speed that impressed and confused him, but there was no time to consider it. She span in the air and kicked him hard in the face, grabbing his head and pushing it near the fire – too near. Fighting dirty, he thrust his fist into her lower jaw.

"Alright," the woman said, accent flavoured with the middle east, "enough."

Her voice, it can't be –

"ATHENA, PROTECT ME!" Diana cried, the doors to the room shattering and breaking apart as she entered, golden sword drawn and in hand. Unbidden, a thought rose to the forefront of his mind: The sword she murdered with, the sword she killed with…

The two women's eyes met. One wore a dress and wielded a sword, the other a leather, skin-tight costume. The seams were still visible in the stitching. Diana began to levitate slightly and moved towards the woman, noticing Bruce's bloodied lip.

"Who is this, Bruce?"

"Lower your sword, Diana."

The woman blinked her eyes heavily at Bruce and took a step forward towards Diana. "It is an honour to meet you, Diana of Themyscria. I have heard you are a fierce and brave warrior. You would make a fine assassin."

"Who are you?"

The woman glanced back to Bruce, though he was trying to avoid her eyes. It was then his eyes fell upon the child sitting on the chair by the fire. A chair he hadn't noticed before.

Distantly, he heard the woman said, "I am Talia al Ghul," but his eyes were still on the boy.

"Damian?"

The little boy nodded, and Bruce Wayne's heart sank.

"Diana, get Alfred," Bruce said, his eyes still on the boy.

"I'm here, Master Bruce."

"Take the boy and Diana for something to eat, down to the kitchens. Talia and I need to talk."

The boy looked at Bruce a few more seconds and then left with Diana and Alfred, leaving only him and Talia in the room. For what felt like forever, he stared at Talia, but all he could see was the boy. The boy's jawline and his eyes, his hair and his nose. There was nothing of Talia in there, it was all Bruce Wayne.

"Why are you here, Talia?"

"You have to take him for some time, Bruce."

"We discussed this."

She nodded. "And times have changed. I'm in danger, and that means he is too. Few people know of his link to you, with you he will not be found."

"I can't take him."

Her throat and nose flared a little. "You will. You don't have a choice. I will come back for him when I am safe. You know I would not do this if I had another way."

In the firelight her hairband shone, her brown hair in strands all around her face. Talia al Ghul, once a villain of Batman and a lover of Bruce Wayne, was here because she truly had no other option.

"What kind of trouble?"

"The worst kind of trouble."

Her father. Ra's al Ghul, the leader of the League of Shadows, had been a problem for Batman for a long time, and the thought of him returning to Gotham amidst the chaos he was only just keeping at bay was not welcome. "Have you had a difference of opinion?"

"In some ways. I do not wish to discuss it. You will take him."

"And do what?"

"You know what. He's thirteen, and trained. Trained by me, a master assassin. More than the first was –"

"Dick was different. Things have changed. I won't make that mistake again." Jason was young too, and I won't let there be another. "Robin is gone. No more. Tim provides assistance to Nightwing through communicator. Nightwing. Not Robin. He doesn't need me."

"But you need him. He is here, is he not?" Bruce said nothing. "That is a yes. He is here to help you clean up the mess that is Gotham City."

"He will not be a Robin."

"For now, he will just be here. He will be your son. Be a father to him, Bruce. You of all people know the importance of good parents –"

"Get out." Talia did not move. "Get out."

"Be his father," she said, and was gone.

"He hasn't spoken to me yet," Damian Wayne said, aiming his foot high and kicking a practice dummy.

Dick Grayson watched on from a nearby table. When Alfred had wind of the extent of the situation, he'd contacted him quickly, asking that he return to the manor. Batgirl had taken over duties in Gotham for the remainder of the night, though it had been quiet – for Gotham's standards.

"If I had a minute of sleep for every time Bruce went an hour not talking to me," Dick said, rubbing his eyes, "I'd be a far more well-rested person."

Damian aimed another kick high, landing it. The kids got skill, I'll give him that. It had been three years since Dick and Damian had last spent any time together, but even now it was easy to fall into the 'big brother' dynamic.

All of the Robins had been unique in their own ways, their relationships changed and shifted constantly. Dick and Tim Drake, who'd taken the mantle of Red Robin instead of Robin, had been close friends. Where Dick had been raised to be an acrobat, Tim had worked at the skills for a long time, often enlisting Dick for help. They'd become close. Jason Todd, the second Robin, had a more explosive temperament, and it led to a dark end for Jason, one that Nightwing didn't like to think about too much. Over a year later, it still stung bitter and sore in his mind.

"Can we practice?" Damian asked, turning to face Nightwing. His costume was very basic, more a training suit than anything. Nightwing had wondered if he would let Damian become Robin. No, he won't. No after Jason.

"Sure. Any preferred apparatus?"

He pointed at the two sticks that hung on his belt and Nightwing nodded. "A pretty good choice, if I do say so myself. Just turn the stunner off, okay? God forbid you get a lucky blow and fry me." He lifted them off his belt and threw one to him.

"Ready?"

"Yeah!"

Damian thrust the baton out and it became a staff. Damian knows how to play, Nightwing noted with a smile.

"Let's go."

Damian was on the floor, Dick standing over him. Sweat dripped from Nightwing's brow. The boy sure knows how to fight, though not good enough. Damian had separated his staff into two distinct batons and fought with them – furiously. Nightwing had chosen to stick with the single staff.

"What did you do wrong?"

The kid sighed and got to his feet. "Legs."

"Yes. Legs. You keep aiming for that killer blow, you're trying to hurt me – which I'm not taking personally, by the way – but it's not all about the body and head. Your opponent has sticky-out bits that are easier to reach."

"I was taught to go in fast and hard. Aggression was at the, uh, base of my training."

"Well, I mean, you should try to be more forgiving. Your opponent may have sticky-out bits, but they may also have had some bad circumstances that have led them to a point in their life where you're fighting them. Some criminals deserve a second chance. And second chances are significantly harder with a minor cause of serious brain damage."

Damian laughed and nodded, soaking up Nightwing's words like a sponge. It was nice to have a member of the Batfamily that wasn't Barbra that listened to what he said. "And what about the others – what about the Joker? Does he deserve a second chance?"

Nightwing opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off before he even began.

" – sometimes it's not about second chances. Sometimes it's just about remembering who you are." Diana was flying down towards them from the upper areas of the Batcave.

"Wonder Woman?" Damian asked.

She smiled and nodded. "But you can't tell anyone I'm here."

"You look different."

"I had a haircut."

"Ahhh." He paused. "Are you and my dad – close?"

"I'm not sure. If you find out, will you tell me?"

"Mhm," he said. The kid began to twirl the batons, leaving them to slap them against the training dummy. He'd activated the stun mode again, Nightwing observed; blue sparks flared up at every point of contact.

"How is he?" Nightwing asked.

Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow.

"Don't know why I asked. He hasn't spoken to you at all?"

"Not yet, but give him time, Nightwing. He will come through."

"I hope so. And not just for his sake anymore." Dick looked on and the young boy; his fists worked so fast and in such good rhythm. "He's trained well." A question occurred to him. "Diana, did you know…?"

"Know what? About Damian? Of course. We've met before. Just the once, a few years ago. It seems like a lifetime ago now."

"Most things do. When do you think he'll come around?"

Diana shrugged and shook her head a little. "Bruce has never been predictable. Brooding season is most of the year. He's been through a lot."

Doesn't the time come when your childhood traumas are a part of your past? Bruce Wayne's withdrawn nature made Bruce an excellent hero, but he failed on a fundamental level to form working relationships. He struggled with Dick, with Tim, with Jason, and he would fail with Damian. Nightwing knew that Batman didn't have a heart, but did Bruce Wayne? I hope so. There was little evidence for it, and it made Nightwing sad. Inside Bruce was darkness and more darkness; when he unleashed Batman onto criminals, it was a release, Dick reckoned.

"Will you stay?" Nightwing asked.

Diana's head turned away from the boy and to Dick. "What makes you think things have changed?"

He shrugged. "I just know."

She smiled. "No, I won't stay."

"When are you leaving?"

A pause. "Tonight."

"And you won't reconsider?" he asked, trying his best. He enjoyed having Diana around; the charged relationship between she and Bruce provided him with a lot of material for hilarious jokes.

"One less complication in Bruce's life is best for now." Nightwing nodded, accepting her decision.

Dick Grayson and Diana of Themyscria watched the boy, and together they thought of how much he resembled his father; the jawline, the hair, and the eyes. The eyes most of all. Eyes that look right through you; eyes that know what to look for.

You've got a good shot here and making this work, Nightwing thought. Don't mess it up, Bruce.

Don't mess it up.