The Stork Works in Strange Ways
This story is a bit more serious than much of my other stuff.
A warning/heads-up: There will be discussion of reproductive rights, technology, etc.
This takes place in the future. Somewhat AU but mostly in line with things before the reboot. Everyone lives at Wayne Manor for three reasons: 1) it's easier for me; 2) there's no way Dick (as Gotham's Paris Hilton) can get his own apartment in the bad part of town without causing suspicion; and 3) it's better for the environment. Wayne Manor must use so many resources to heat and cool itself that the least the family can do is cram it full of people in an effort to lower their per person carbon footprint.
It started out like every other Tuesday morning in recent history. The guys all eating breakfast together, the dining room looking like a tailor's shop had exploded in it.
Damian, now fifteen, had on his uniform for Gotham Academy. Bruce and the rest of the boys had on suits for another day at Wayne Enterprises.
Tim was working at WayneTech, which he was being groomed to eventually take over. Jason was working at Wayne Aerospace, designing military weapons; he would eventually take over that division. Dick meanwhile, spent most of his time shadowing Bruce. He had some sort of job as a "vice president," but really Bruce was training Dick to be the consummate businessman. It wasn't hard; Dick was good at business, even without a college degree. He was good at making deals, good at marketing, and, most important, he was good at leading projects. He was a born leader, where Bruce was not. Dick had all the people skills of a great CEO; even Lucius had said so on more than one occasion. Damian, of course, liked to insist that he would one day take over all of Wayne Enterprises, but everyone knew that was never going to happen. Damian's personality was always going to be too caustic to effectively run a major corporation. People just didn't particularly want to work with Damian. That was why Bruce had decided Dick should eventually take over as "head" (really the boys would share the company equally): he had the necessary leadership skills, the sterling moral character to remain true to the Wayne family's vision, and he was the only one capable of keeping his brothers in line.*
As they munched on their pancakes, everyone read their designated section of the newspaper. Jason had the comics, Damian the Business section, Tim the technology section, Dick local news, and Bruce the front page.
Jason chuckled. "Man, that Hagar the Horrible. That guy's the shit."
"You're an idiot, Todd," Damian snapped. "Stop polluting our ears with your banalities."
"Stop polluting my life with your existence," Jason retorted, earning a high-five from Tim.
"Guys, stop it," Dick pleaded as Bruce ignored them.
"Yes, Mom," Jason cracked. Damian, to express his displeasure, threw a blueberry at Dick. Dick, however, caught it neatly in his mouth, which reminded Damian…
"Dick, don't forget you agreed to chaperone my biology class field trip to Sea World next week. I need you to fill out this confirmation form." He slid the form across the table. #
Dick whipped out a pen, filled out the form, and sent it back. "I can't wait."
"What day is that again?" Bruce asked.
"Next Friday, Father."
Bruce frowned. "Dick, we have a big meeting that day."
"Bruuuce," Dick whined, "I promised Dami I would go. Can't you change the meeting?" He fixed Bruce with a pout and some puppy-dog eyes.
Bruce sighed. "Fine. I'll get it changed." Dick and Damian high-fived. "And I can't believe you're thirty years old and still giving me puppy-dog eyes."
Dick just laughed, not at all ashamed. "I can't believe you're fifty years old and still fall for it."
"Not to change the subject, but…." Tim paused. "Well, to change the subject: there's something in the paper today about new DNA technologies. Think that will help with the Grosvenor Fertility Clinic case?"
A groan went around the table. Although technically not (yet) a case for vigilantes, the case involving Dr. Theodore Grosvenor and his fertility clinic was a debacle and a half. Up until three weeks ago, Dr. Grosvenor was widely-hailed as the best fertility doctor in Gotham City. He could make anyone pregnant. Aging society women were clawing each other to get into Grosvenor's clinic and finally have the babies they had delayed for so long. Healthy young twenty-somethings were knocking each other over for the chance to be a surrogate (should someone need one) because Grosvenor's clients offered the best pay and healthcare options on the entire east coast. But all of that had blown up three weeks ago, when the surrogate carrying Veronica Vreeland's baby gave birth – and blood tests revealed the baby was not related to either Veronica or her husband. The child didn't even carry the surrogate's DNA. A week later it was discovered that the Vreelands' surrogate had been implanted with an embryo left over from the IVF treatments the Malvern family had undergone four years ago – embryos the Malverns thought had been destroyed.
Two days after the discovery, the police were called to Grosvenor's clinic to find that the good doctor had torched his files and committed suicide. Ever since, doctors and hospitals across Gotham had been inundated with families and pregnant women wanting DNA tests done on their children. Unfortunately, the results had not been pretty.
"I don't know, Tim," Bruce admitted. "I thought that case was about wrapped up to be honest."
"Hmm," Dick scanned the pages of the local news section. "Bruce is right. Today's article says that most of the kid's parents have been identified. A few actually have anonymous sperm donors and there's one surrogate whose fetus is still unidentified."
"That's odd," Tim commented. "If she's a surrogate, you'd think there would be some frantic couple out there, desperate to find her and their baby."
"You would think," Dick agreed.
Jason shrugged. "Maybe they forgot."
Damian snorted. "How do you not know you have a child out there?"
Dick, Tim, and Jason all turned to look at him. "Really, demon child?" Jason asked.
Damian huffed but did not offer a comeback. After another bite of pancake, he asked, "What are these people doing?"
"What do you mean, D?"
"Well, what are they doing with the kids? I mean, if they find out they aren't theirs? Giving them back?"
In his shock, Tim spit a mouthful of coffee all over the business section. Even Bruce lowered the newspaper to look at Damian. But it was Dick who spoke.
"Damian, they don't give the kids back. They are their children. Just because they don't have the same DNA doesn't mean they aren't their kids."
"Yeah," Tim added. "What Dr. Grosvenor did was morally repugnant but some of those kids are four, five, even six years old. You don't get rid of them!"
"The pregnant ones could abort, I guess," Jason put in, "but if the baby isn't theirs biologically it's kinda like adoption. You don't have to get rid of it, especially when you want a kid so much."
"But they aren't family!" Damian insisted.
"Oh, Damian," Dick said with a half-sad, half-indulgent smile. "When will you learn? DNA doesn't make a family, love does. Like our family. We may not be biologically related, but we're a family, through and through. And it's because – and I cannot stress this enough –" Dick gently wagged his finger at Damian to emphasize his point, "Love makes a family. Right, Bruce?"
Bruce smiled, actually genuinely smiled. "Right. And may I suggest this family get to work and school?"
Alfred, a tear in his eye, stepped forward, ready to take Damian to school. "I couldn't agree more, sir."
*I realize that Tim eventually took over Wayne Enterprises when Bruce was "dead." But that was partially because it fit in with the Red Robin storylines and not the Batman ones. Plus, Lucius kept asking Dick to do stuff and Dick did have to fulfill most of Bruce's social obligations. If Bruce were ever to really die, I think it would take all of them to keep the company running. And Dick is the only one who can keep them from killing each other.
# I think after five years, Damian would be on a first-name basis with those he feels particularly close to.