In comic book canon Gotham City is located in New Jersey. I changed this to South Dakota for several reasons. One is for diversity's sake. New York City, Metropolis, and Gotham City can't all be on the East Coast. First of all, it's too crowded. There would be nowhere to even put a city. Second of all, it doesn't make sense for superheroes to all be crowded together in a relatively small area, such as the northern east coast of the United States. I chose South Dakota, because frankly, there's not a lot there. My Gotham City is located on a crook in the Missouri River, so it's surrounded on 3 sides by water. There's also a lake made by an upstream reservoir. And for my purposes the northern Missouri river is a lot wider with significant flow. In a world where Batman and the Lazarus Pit exist, I'm sure you can suspend your disbelief on some tiny geographical changes I've made.


23:44, 3 September

Gotham City Marina, Gotham, South Dakota, United States of America

Bruce Wayne's Personal Yacht

Damian looked around the docks, unimpressed with the city so far. It was unwelcoming, cold, and filthy. Inhospitable, he could handle. Unhygienic, he could not. Even the river had a rancid stench that was enhanced by the biting cold.

"And how long do you plan on dumping me here, Mother?" he asked, voice ringing with disdain.

"You'll be here as long as I need you to be, Damian," Talia's voice was muffled by the bobby pins in her mouth as she pinned up her thick, dark hair. After hours of rough travel, and a transatlantic flight she knew she wasn't the picture of attraction in her dark League uniform and thick Kevlar armor, but she wanted to make an effort. She hadn't seen him in years, after all. And who knows, maybe he found exhausted but deadly attractive. Bruce Wayne did have eccentric tastes.

She turned to look at her son, in his identical dark uniform-although his had a hood, his unusual electric blue eyes were a certain giveaway amongst the dark eyed natives of Nepal, and her son preferred the shadows. Damian was leaning against the hull of the boat, looking carefully bored. But the tension in his shoulders gave him away; he was nervous.

"Remember, Damian, conceal yourself when he gets here, and do not give yourself away until I choose to reveal you. He doesn't know you exist. I need to talk to him first. You'll stay with him for awhile. For now, I just want you to learn from him. I will contact you by the end of the month with further instructions."

A nod. "Very well, Mother. I will do my best to put my time to good use."

Talia smiled at him. As loathe as she was to admit it, she would miss him. But he was safer with his father.

She held her arms open for a hug. "Come here."

Reluctantly pushing himself away from the wall, Damian accepted his mother's brisk embrace.

"Make me proud, love."

Damian nodded, and retreated to the shadows of the stairwell. There was no need to tell him to hide: he heard the soft swoosh of a cape as clearly as she did.

It was time.

23:49, 3 September

Gotham City Marina, Gotham, South Dakota, United States of America

Bruce Wayne's Personal Yacht

"Talia."

That was all the greeting he offered. She squelched the disappointment that dared to twinge her heart, and offered him the same, cool, disinterested tone.

"Bruce."

He strode forward, dark cape billowing silently behind him. Fleetingly, she was glad she had pinned up her hair. Without her mesmerizing beauty she knew she looked exhausted, dirty, and a touch scared. In comparison, he looked as stoic and immovable as ever.

"I was surprised to hear from you. Even more surprised to hear you were in Gotham. Why?"

Although his deep timbre sounded disinterested, Talia could hear the threat in his voice as clear as day. She sighed dramatically. "Relax, Bruce. I'm not staying. In fact, I'll be gone tomorrow. I have to get back…"

The Batman stared at her, and she could feel his curiosity. She was sure she caught a flash of his electric blue eyes behind his mask. "Who did Ra's send you to kill this time? Not me, I hope."

Talia sunk unto the cushioned booth of the kitchen table and blew escaped strands of hair out of her face. Exhaustion radiated from her core, and she let a little of it show. Bruce, as intimidating and scary as he was as Batman, had a soft spot for her was a sucker for a damsel in distress. Even one who could kill him as easily as she took a breath.

"My father is dead."

Even to her own ears, her voice sounded hollow with exhaustion. Good. Talia watched Bruce for his reaction. He hadn't moved from the spot he had chosen when he entered the cabin of the boat. She could see him processing this information.

"So just take him to the-"

"For real. He's not coming back."

There was a heavy silence. Finally, Bruce sighed. The question was in the air, and she answered, although he had yet to ask.

"He was killed with the same grade of Sumerian magic that created the Pits themselves. Ra's al Ghul cannot return."

"So you came all the way here to tell me?" Despite herself, Talia smiled. Bruce wasn't curious, he was probing for the truth. What a fine assassin he would have made.

"No, my dear. I came here because I have a surprise," she said, as he stiffened. Not wanting him to dismiss her so easily, she let more exhaustion color her face. "And… I need your help."

It worked. Bruce paused, but slowly approached. He still kept his distance, but she could tell she had snared him.

"What happened, Talia?"

"Do you remember the last time we saw each other?" she said, diverting him. She needed him to remember, to pity her.

"I believe you waved after you tried to shoot me from across the Thames."

Talia laughed. It was genuine and it surprised her son, who was hiding in the air conditioning vent above their conversation. Damian could count on one hand the times he had heard her sincerely laugh.

"London doesn't count, my dear. And if I had wanted to shoot you, you would have been shot. I just wanted your attention."

The Batman grunted, and Damian assumed he was acknowledging her point. He couldn't get a good look at his father, who was swathed in shadows and blocked by the grimy vent, but he could sense the companionship between them. For the first time, he realized how they could have been a… couple. The thought was unfathomable.

"No, I was referring to the time before that. If I recall, you enjoyed the last encounter much more."

"Maybe I would have, if I remembered it all."

Damian knew he was a calculated plan, and not conceived from any form of love. He also knew that his mother had retrieved half of his DNA without his father's consent. What surprised him was how bitter his father sounded about the fact.

"I didn't come here to argue," Talia sighed, letting her head fall into her hands. She massaged her temples. "I just wanted you to remember…" She trailed off, not yet willing to reveal her son. "Someone planned this. Someone wants control of the League. They planned to kill my father… it was all orchestrated too well. I need to weed out the traitors. I need to rebuild the League one member at a time, killing anyone unfaithful. But that's what he knows I'd do…"

"He?"

"Slade Wilson. He's the one who murdered Father."

The name had Bruce stop cold. It wasn't a name he had planned on hearing ever again. "Slade?"

Talia nodded, peering at him through her damned hair. The bobby pins had not helped, and it was escaping their hold. She sighed and let her hair down, not caring if the dark locks defied gravity. She was too tired to care.

"He knows that this is what I'd do at any sign of betrayal. He knows it's coming. And I'll be damned if I let my father's life's work fall into his grubby little hands."

"If by 'life's work' you mean centuries of cultivating the deadliest order of assassins known to mankind-"

Talia flapped her hand at him, too tired to argue.

"Wilson knows that's what I'd do and he knows where I'll be. We'd be in constant danger."

"We?" Bruce was definitely curious now.

Talia took a deep breath, heart racing. She glanced up at the ceiling, nodding to her son. Damian knew she couldn't see him, but he nodded back. This was it.

"My son. Damian," she called. "Come out and meet Bruce."

Damian smiled as he lifted the grate and dropped to the ground beside his mother. The Batman was completely still, no perceptible movement. He must be holding his breath, Damian concluded. He glanced at his mother. She was slightly green, eyes locked onto what was visible of Batman's face in anticipation. She looked like she might be ill.

Turning his gaze to his father, he was glad he had pulled up his hood when he retreated into the vent. Damian could feel the man's heavy gaze inspecting him. He crossed his arms impatiently.

"You have a son." It wasn't a question, although to those who knew him Bruce Wayne sounded thoroughly bewildered.

Talia cleared her throat. "Well, that's the thing. You see… Well- Actually, we have a son."

Damian had never seen his mother at a loss for words. He glanced at her. The stiffness of her spine and hard angle of her frown told him she was exhausted. She needed to sleep. He turned his attention to his father to gauge his reaction. There was no discernable change besides a slight widening of the eyes and a half a step backwards. Figuring it was his cue, he stepped forward and lowered his hood.

"I'm sure you're surprised, Father," he said. "I've been looking forward to meeting you." An inspection was in order, and Damian circled his father, memorizing, appraising, and wondering what would possess such a powerful man to wear such an… interesting suit. He concluded it must be practical and have a multitude of hidden uses for it to be considered. Circling back to face his father, Damian looked him square in the eye.

"Mother says you are a formidable adversary. I look forward to learning from you."

Bruce Wayne was not an easy man to surprise. This had done it. Even as he registered the boy's thick raven hair, he saw the classic Wayne cowlick. He saw the deep tawny skin, but also registered his own piercing blue gaze being coming from the child in front of him.

"You expect me to believe this?" his voice sounded gruffer than he meant it to. "You disappear for over a decade, and then come back with a son, tell me he's mine, and expect me to buy it?"

"-tt-" The boy scoffed at him. Talia's eyes were shadowed, and they glinted dangerously. She knew. He could tell that she knew, that behind his mask, he believed her. She reached forward and plopped a manila file folder in front of him.

"A DNA test," she said calmly. "Of course, feel free to conduct your own at your leisure."

"You assume that I'd be willing to entertain this madness."

Talia's eyes grew cold. "I know you, Bruce. And whether you believe that he's your son or not, he is a nine year old boy and Slade Wilson wants him dead. He cannot stay with me in the League of Shadows until I uncover Wilson's plot and dispose of the traitors."

"-tt-" The boy scoffed again, as if his mother were embarrassing him, and not as if he were running for his life.

Bruce sighed. He knew he was defeated-he believed her. "How long will you be?"

Talia rubbed her face. "I don't know. But I have to get back. There's work to be done."

"What will I do with him?"

Talia smiled. The boy scowled. "Train him, Bruce. He already has the makings of the finest assassin the League has ever seen. See if there's anything left for you to teach him."

"But-"

Talia stood abruptly, cutting him off. "I need to go. I don't have time for this."

The boy stepped forward and nodded to Talia, face as serious as the grave. "Farewell, Mother. Travel safely. Work swiftly. I look forward to rejoining you."

Talia looked at her son, and her face softened. Bruce could never tell with her, but he believed it was genuine. She truly loved the boy.

She spoke the next words for her son, but her gaze locked with his. "Learn from your father. He is very wise. I will return for you when it is safe."

Damian stepped forward and grasped his mother's forearm in the traditional assassin greeting. "Qad alzzilal tarshaduk," his voice cracked as he formally said goodbye, and although he would never admit it, he was glad for his mother's embrace while they had been alone.

"W yajuz lil alzzalam tajlub lak almnzla." Talia's dark eyes glittered as she gazed at her son for the last time in what she knew would be a long time. She turned to Bruce. "Take care of him."

And then she was gone.

00:20, 4 September

Gotham City Marina, Gotham, South Dakota, United States of America

Marina Docks

They watched in silence as Talia disappeared into the dark fog over the river. Bruce shifted uncomfortably.

The boy spoke first. "So, Mother has made me your responsibility."

He nodded. "It appears that way."

Silence descended upon them once again, as they both came to terms with the new arrangement.

"Hm. Well, then. I guess it's time to introduce you to the Manor."

"I'll go grab my gear."

Damian rushed down the stairs to the bedroom. He'd thrown his bag on it as soon as he'd gotten here, eager to explore and find the best vantage points. It's familiar weight comforted him. His swords were never far from his reach. Upstairs, he heard his father talking into his communication system. Probably warning the servants of his arrival. Damian rejoined him in less that two minutes.

"Ready?"

Damian didn't deign the question with a response. Of course he was ready. What a stupid question.

The crisp autumn air bit into them as they emerged from the cabin and crossed the deck. His father gracefully stepped from the boat to the dock and turned, in what Damian knew was an effort to help him to shore. But even the thought of needing help to do something so simple was ridiculous to him, and he was standing next to his father before the man could even complete the motion.

"So… Damian, huh?" Although his face betrayed no emotion, his father's voice echoed with awkward apprehension, and… was that a little bit of guilt?

His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he answered the next ridiculous question. Wasn't this man supposed to be smart? "Yes, Father. My name is Damian. Damian Wayne."

Bruce coughed, trying to hide his astonishment at this announcement. The boy claimed his name?

But Damian was not done yet. "And you, Father, are Bruce Wayne. Now that we've got the useless questions out of the way, I am impatient to leave this place."

Bruce nodded, and strode more quickly in the direction of the Batmobile. Good lord, Alfred was going to have a conniption when he met this kid. My kid, he thought, still dumbstruck by the notion. They exited the marina, and Damian saw the bat symbol glinting off the hood of the Batmobile in the moonlight.

"I take it this vehicle is yours, Father? Your coat of arms seems to be everywhere," Damian said, perfectly serious. Hands clasped firmly behind his back, he inspected it. Bruce saw the glance the boy shot at him from the corner of his eye. "You built this?"

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement, and strode to the driver's side, eager to get home.

"That won't be necessary, Father. I'll drive."

"No." Bruce didn't miss a beat. He knew the boy would test him.

"I know how."

"No." Bruce slid into the driver's side. A few seconds later the passenger side door opened, and Damian slid in with a huff.

"Drive."


The greetings are ones I made up.

May the shadows guide you. - Qad alzzilal tarshaduk - قد الظلال ترشدك. - GHOOD-fyeel-ELL-tor-she-DOOK-ee

And may darkness guide you home. - W yajuz lil alzzalam tajlub lak almnzla. - ويجوز للالظلام تجلب لك المنزل. - OY-yah-ZJU-zah-lil-AHL-za-LAHM TAH-zju-boo-lack-AL-men-zell