Author's Note: To the guest that reviewed,

1. I understand that Bruce Wayne is young (as you said, about 29), but this is an AU, it doesn't have to follow every detail of the original story, and that's the whole point. So I understand your concern, but I'm not following the original movie to a tee. I am allowed to change aspects of the story, in this case, Bruce is older (35), and still physically capable of being Batman. Hell, Bruce is 55 in The Dark Knight Returns and he can still be Batman, but I digress.

2. I'm not going to apologize for writing these types of stories. I like writing them so that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't read it, but don't blame people for writing what they love. And just because I have a couple of these types of stories doesn't mean it's the only thing I'm going to write.

Thank you for your time.

Now that that's over, enjoy!


Chapter One

Seven years after Bruce's disappearance.

Lyssandra was the only one on the train station platform when the train slowly rolled into the station on Friday morning. The October wind blew in her face, making her instinctively run her hand through her long, caramel-brown hair. Lysa had been taking the train to school every day since she started high school three years ago. She'd been terrified at first, she'd wouldn't go on without her mother for the first week. But after a while, she got used to it. Most of the time it was empty, nobody else on the car, on any of the cars. As the doors opened with a creek, Lysa gripped her backpack a little tighter and slipped into a seat of the graffiti-ridden train.

Alfred had told her that it wasn't always like this. When her grandparents were alive, everyone took this train, the city was in better hands, and it prospered. Now... it was just the opposite. She wondered about her father, as she had done every day for the past seven years. She refused to believe he was actually dead, but the chances of her seeing Bruce again were getting slimmer and slimmer. Two years ago, on her fifteenth birthday, she'd missed him so much that she took her mom's key she kept on her dresser and snuck into Wayne Manor and slept in her old room. All of her old stuff was still there, including her copy of Goodnight Moon. She'd read it to herself, under the covers, tears welling up in her eyes. Eventually, Alfred found her, but she told him not to call her mom, at least, not for a little while.

"What were my grandparents like?" She had asked as Alfred handed her a mug of hot chocolate. "They were very good people, probably the best people in Gotham. They were always trying to make the city better," he said, then looked down. A wave of devastation made its way onto his face. "It's a tragedy, what happened." She'd been too young to understand before, but know she knew that her grandparents' murder hadn't been just a robbery. It had been planned, thought out by Gotham's crime bosses, people that still walked and breathed and lived, while her grandparents were buried in the ground at Wayne Manor.

"Why did he leave?" Lyssandra had asked, in between a sip of the rich hot chocolate. She didn't know why, but she couldn't look at Alfred when she asked. Memories of the dark streets of Gotham floated to her mind, as perfect as when the day she'd been there. The last time she saw her father. Photographic memory. That's what she had, why she could memorize pages her text books and maps and places and events just by looking at them.

"I don't know why your father left," Alfred replied, squeezing her hand, the way Bruce used to. "And we may never know."

The sound of bells rung through the house, making Lysa jump. A little bit of the hot chocolate spilt over the edge of mug, onto her hand. Her hand jerked away, flicking the drops of chocolate onto the light gray comforter, staining it. "That would be your mother," Alfred told her, getting up from the side of her bed. "You coming?" Lysa let out a sigh and went to meet her mother.

Lyssandra's phone vibrated in her pocket, taking her from her thoughts. She quickly unlocked it and read the text. I'm going to be home late tonight. Maybe around 8. –Mom. Lysa scoffed. The last five texts her mother had sent were like this. She always said she was going to be late. On good days, Rachel would come home at 6. On bad days, she wouldn't come home until after midnight. It felt as if Rachel spent more time at her job than at home. Lysa didn't bother replying.

A moment after slipping her phone back into her pocket, she instinctively took it out again to check if there were any news stories about Bruce Wayne, even though she'd set her phone to send her notifications whenever new stories arose. There were none. There hadn't been any since the first years of Bruce's disappearance. And if there were any new stories, they would only talk about how he was still missing.

The train pulled up to the station closest to her school and the doors slid open. Lyssandra gripped her phone and backpack and walked off the train and down the two blocks to her school, Gotham Central Public High School. As she approached the main entrance, she noticed a squad of police cars were parked on the roads either side of the school. Another drug raid. A couple years ago the public school board made it mandatory that the police search the school for drugs, twice a year, to discourage dealing and possession.

Lyssandra pulled open the heavy bullet-proof glass doors and made her way to her locker. It was on the second floor, across from the science labs. Police with their dogs walked slowly beside the rows of lockers, occasionally stopping for a moment, but then moving on. When she rounded the hallway, two police officers were rummaging through an open locker. Her locker. What the hell? She never smoked a day in the life, and even if she wanted to, her mother worked in the DA's office. If she was caught, she would be grounded for the rest of her life, and probably have to do community service or something like that.

Her pace quickened. "Hey!" she called to the police officers. One was a woman, with caramel skin and dark brown hair wrapped in a tight bun. The other was an older man, with a grey mustache. Her voice caught his attention, and his head whipped around. It was James Gordon, her parents' old friend. "Officer Gordon," Lysa smiled in confusion. "What are you doing in my locker? You didn't find anything, did you?" The contents of her locker were all there, her textbooks, binders, lotion, body spray. She could even see the picture of her and Bruce peeking out from underneath her pair of gym shoes. The picture had ended up there in a fit of rage when she had heard someone say that Bruce had left Gotham because of her.

"Nope, you're clean," Gordon smiled. "Just a false positive. I told Officer Ramirez, here that there was no way Lyssandra Wayne could have anything remotely incriminating."

"Well thanks," Lysa smiled. "But I thought you were above all this," she gestured to the other police officers in the hall. Gordon shrugged. "Yeah well, someone's gotta do it, might as well be me," he laughed, and petted the dog beside him.

Gordon and Ramirez were just about to continue down the wall when Lysa spoke up. "Gordon!" He looked back up at her. "You might want to check the lockers by the auditorium, it always smells like pot when I pass by." Gordon smiled. "Will do."

The first two periods, exercise science and chemistry, seemed as if they lasted an enternity. Lyssandra was so thankful by the time lunch rolled around. It was the time when everyone was wrapped up in their own drama to care about hers. By then all of the cops had left the school. The cafeteria was mostly full. It took up two levels with floor-to-ceiling windows and rows of faded yellow and green circular tables, their school colours. The TVs mounted on the walls were quietly playing the news, like they did every day.

Lysa sat with her two best friends, well, her only friends, Alexa and Mason. "Did you hear?" Mason said as Lysa unpacked her lunch. It was the usual. Peanut butter and honey sandwich. "What?" Alexa asked, eating a spoonful of couscous salad. "The police caught Ryan Jackson with almost a pound of weed in his locker."

"Ha! I knew he would get caught eventually. The whole school knew he was dealing," Lysa said. "If he was this oh-so great dealer, you'd think he would have a better place to hide it," Alexa added. "Yeah, well, it's not like the students at Gotham Central are running cartels," Lysa replied with a laugh. "Oh, Lysa," Alexa said, pointing her spoon towards her. "What was the homework for chemistry Mr. Fredericks wrote on the board? I didn't have time to copy it down." Lysa smiled and picture the blackboard in the chem room. "Chapter 5.6 questions one to six, chapter 5.7 questions four, five and eight and chapter 5.8 questions one to three and six," Lysa recited, replaying the memory. "Man, what would I do without you," Alexa asked, pretending to swoon. "You would fail," Mason joked. They all let out a laugh. Lysa's phone vibrated. Probably another text from her mom. Did she have to stay at work until nine now? She pulled it out of her pocket. But it wasn't a text.

It was a news update.

"'Prince of Gotham' Bruce Wayne, son of the late Thomas and Martha Wayne, returns to Gotham after a seven year-long disappearance."

Lyssandra had to read the headline three times before in taking the information. Bruce Wayne was back. Her father was back. In Gotham. He was back. Did he want to see her? Did she even want to see him?

"Hey, Lysa," Mason said. She whipped her head up from her phone. "Is that your father on the news?" He asked, pointing at the TVs. Every one of them had the same headline that was on her phone. The cafeteria got really quiet, there was a low murmur, and it seemed like everyone was staring at her.

When she started high school, her mother had registered her as "Lyssandra Dawes" but people knew the truth. Alexa and Mason figured it out pretty quick. Now everyone knew she was Lyssandra Wayne, and if they didn't, they would find out eventually.

Lysa continued to stare at the screens, and then back to phone, and then the screens again. All of a sudden she wasn't hungry anymore, she couldn't even look at her lunch. "I..." She didn't know what to say. Words couldn't exit her mouth. "Lysa, are you okay?" Alexa asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Of course she's not okay, look at her," Mason replied. Alexa said something back, but by then Lysa wasn't paying attention. The temperature of the room was rising, and she needed air. She got up, and ran out of the cafeteria, not looking back. She already knew everyone was staring at her.

She ran through the bright halls of the school, hardly hearing the teachers telling her to stop. She ran until she burst out of the front of the school and sank to her knees on the green lawn.

Eventually, Mason and Alexa found her, well into third period. They said that it would all blow over soon, and Lysa wished she could believe them. The rest of the day felt like it was going at light speed, the people in her third and fourth period classes talked, as she assumed they would. Luckily, she had Mason and Alexa there to keep her mind off the subject. They knew that her father was a sensitive topic, and instead they talked about the drug raid and which senior was supposedly pregnant. Usually, Lysa hated that kind of gossip, but that day it was nice to talk about other people, since everyone was talking about her.

By the time the final bell rang at three, Lysa wanted nothing more than to go home and watch her favourite TV show on Netflix, Grey's Anatomy. As she exited the front doors of the school, her phone vibrated, and then kept vibrating. She pulled her phone out. "Mom" in big letters appeared on the screen. "Hi, mom," she said, answering the call. "Did you see the news?" Rachel asked. "Of course I did," Lysa answered. There was a lot of commotion on her mother's end. "Have you talked to him?" Lysa asked. What was Bruce even doing right now? "What? No, I've been busy," Rachel answered. "I'm going to see if I can leave early but for now, no such luck," she added, with a hint of disappointment.

An engine revved, passing the main street in front of the school. The car circled back and stopped at the curb, no more than 6 metres in front of her. That was when she noticed that the car was a shiny gray Ferrari, and by the looks of it, everyone noticed, too.

Everyone outside was staring at the car, pointing and whispering. Even the teachers going to their cars were staring. The driver's window rolled down, and out popped the head of Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne.

"Lysa!" He called to her. Now everyone was staring at her. She was having trouble wrapping her mind around what happening. Bruce Wayne, who just reappeared after seven years, was picking her up from school. "Honey? Are you there?" Rachel's voice came from her phone. Had she been talking this whole time? "Mom, I have to go, Bruce is here," she whispered quickly, and ended the call before Rachel could say another word.

Lyssandra approached the car, to Bruce's smiling face. "What are you doing?" she asked harshly. There it was. The first words she said to her father in seven years. She couldn't take them back. Of everything she had imagined saying to Bruce if he ever came back, this was the furthest sentence from.

Bruce cocked his head. "What do you mean?" he asked innocently. "You couldn't have parked down the street or something?" Lyssandra knew everyone was staring at her, she could feel their eyes on her without needing to look. She could even here the quiet clicks of cameras snapping pictures. Bruce smiled.

"I thought you didn't care what people thought of you," he said, eyeing the other students and teachers on the lawn. "That was seven years ago," she hissed, however her words were faltering.

Lysa stood there for a few seconds more, and everyone was waiting to see what she was going to do. She couldn't bear it anymore, she had enough staring for one day, and she walked around to the passenger's side and slid into the seat. The leather was cool and clean. The car still smelt new, but dust covered the dash. She hadn't been in a car this nice in seven years, more.

Bruce started the car, and the loud hum of the engine sounded and they sped away, leaving the school behind. Neither Lysa nor Bruce said anything for a while, though Bruce kept turning his head from the road to her every couple of minutes. She only stared out the window, at the busy streets of Gotham whizzing by. Lysa then cocked her head towards Bruce. "Why did you come?" she asked. Bruce gave her a look of confusion for a second and then gazed back to the road. "Why did I come back to Gotham, or why did I pick you up?"

"Why did you come pick me up?" To be honest, Lysa didn't think she was ready to hear where Bruce had been all this time, or why he even came back to Gotham.

"I wanted to see you," he replied simply. Lysa let out a short scoff. "Well, you're seven years too late," she sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. Bruce sighed. "Listen, Lyssandra, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to leave but-"

"Then why did you?" Lysa snapped. Bruce didn't respond. She knew that he couldn't give her a good reason of his leaving. "Just drop me off at Mom's, okay?"

"Lysa, honey, please listen-"

"I said drop me off at Mom's. I can't deal with this, or with you right now," Lysa huffed. Bruce sighed and turned the car around, back downtown.

Not another word was spoken for the remainder of the car ride, and as soon as Bruce dropped her off, she sped walked up the ten flights of stairs to Rachel's apartment and slammed the door behind her. She let out a long sigh and threw her backpack on the ground just outside her bedroom door. Who did Bruce think he was, to leave, disappear, for seven years and then expect Lysa to welcome him with open arms? Maybe that's how it would've happened it she had been thirteen when he returned. But she wasn't. She was seventeen. Hell, she had to apply to university in the winter.

Lysa took her mind off the events of the day by doing homework, and then watching four hours-worth of Grey's Anatomy while eating leftover pizza she'd ordered in yesterday. By nine the events of the day still weighed heavy in her mind, making her exhausted. Her mother still wasn't home. Surprise, surprise. Rachel must've got caught up with something. There was always something.

Finally, she had to get some sleep. She quickly showered and put on her plaid pajama pants and white long-sleeve shirt and braided her damp hair. Lysa wrapped herself in her bead covers and tried to block out all of the thoughts spinning in her head.

She was asleep by the time her mother walked in the door.