Sorry for the wait guys!

Warnings: rape, murder, insanity, dark themes, 2p nations, yaoi, weird fluff

Songs:

Sweet (A Trickster! Jane Crocker Fansong): PhemieC (A/N: Oliver's theme song throughout this story)

Don't Mess With Me: Temposhark (A/N: Francois' theme song throughout this story)

Paint it Black: Rolling Stones

Chapter One -Three Years Later

The bell on top of the door rang. "Hello, A- oh my god!"

Oliver heard the exclamation of his cashier, a Belgian woman with short, curly blonde hair, made his head shoot up. He set aside the cupcakes he was icing, licking some cream cheese frosting off his index finger as he poked his head out of the kitchen door, which was situated behind the front counter. "Bella, dear, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned for the woman who was as white as a sheet. She shook her head and Oliver stepped up until he was behind her shoulder. What he saw had his eyes widen and a distress sound tear his throat. "Allen!" Allen, who was tall at ten years old with some pudge still clinging to his legs, tummy and cheeks, was standing in front of the entrance door with bruises on his face and scrapes on his arms, dried blood smeared on beneath his nose, on his upper lip and across his cheek, his clothes were covered in dirt, his right eyes was black and blue -half closed -and his hair was sticking up, looking like it had been pulled. A sick feeling in his stomach almost made Oliver throw up but he refrained, swallowing thickly and running around Bella and the counter to kneel in front of his son, his knees hitting the pale blue of the linoleum with an unforgiving clank. "Allen, cupcake, what happened? Who did this? Are you hurt?"

Allen shook his head, looking down at the pale blue, glittery floor. "N-Nothing...I fell down at recess-."

"Don't lie to me!" Oliver snapped with a tone so harsh and cold, so angry, that Al immediately flinched away from the sudden, loud noise. Seeing his son flinch back, Oliver felt a deep pain in his chest and he immediately softened his face and voice. "I'm sorry, my darling, I shouldn't have yelled at you. You see, I'm very upset."

"You...you are?"

"Yes, cupcake, but not at you. I want those bad boys that did this to you to suffer and pay for what they did. No one hurts my baby boy," the Brit cooed, hugging Al firmly, the boy a bit taller than him with the way Oliver was sitting, so Oliver let his head rest on Al's chest, his hands rubbing circles into the little boy's shoulder blades.

Almost immediately, Allen began sobbing, wrapping his arms around his Daddy's neck and hiding his face in the British man's hair. "Th-They were so mean, Daddy!" he sobbed, his entire body shaking, "Wh-Why do they h-hate me, Daddy?! I didn't d-do-o anything!"

"No, no, hush my darling," the older man hummed, picking Allen up in his arms and rocking him gently, "You're not in the wrong here, don't you ever think that you are. Ever."

Allen sniffed, nodding hesitantly and letting his Daddy coddle him.

._._._.

Francois placed buttered pancakes on two plates. They were Matt's favorite food and he made them everyday so Matt could eat them after school. Francois would make them in the morning, but both he and Matt were far too tired and irritable to have anything other than cereal. His cell rang and he pressed it to his ear, still focused on the pancakes, "Bonjour?"

"Hello, is this Mr. Bonnefoy?"

"Oui, who eez asking?"

"This is Ms. Alice Styles, the principle of your son's school," the woman said with a Cockney accent. Francois scowled, he much preferred the Ripper's -no, what the hell was I thinking?! "I'm afraid your son got into a scuffle at recess."

The Frenchman's back straightened and he placed the pancake on Matt's plate, before turning off the stove. "W'at 'appened? Eez 'e 'urt?!" Damn it, damn it, damn it! What the fuck do I have to do?! Wrap that brat in bubble wrap?!

"No, sir, nothing besides a few scrapes and bruises."

"Merci dieu," he breathed, definitely not because he cared or anything, he was just glad he wouldn't have to pay a hospital bill.

"I will need you to come down to the school, however."

Crap...

~oOo~

"W'at ze fuck eez wrong wizh you?!" Francois roared once they were in the car. "Are you an animal? An idiot? W'at ze fuck made you zhink eet was ok to get into a fight at school?!"

Matt scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out the window of the car; he sat in the back of the car, his seat belt diagonal across his chest and red plaid shirt, his black backpack by his red converse sneakers on the floor of the car, by empty candy and chip wrappers. "Because."

"Because-? Because?! W'at ze 'ell kind of reasoning eez zhat?!" he shouted, glaring at the child from the rear view mirror, "Do you 'ave any idea w'at kind of trouble-?!"

"Those kids were assholes!"

Slap! Without thinking, Francois twisted around in his seat, his hand making contact with Matt's face. They both stared at each other in shock, Matt touching his cheek with feather soft caresses. Francois swallowed thickly. "Don't use zuch language..." he said huskily, turning his attention to the road. The car was drowned in awkward silence, Francois experiencing an unfamiliar feeling: guilt. Violence was in the Frenchman's nature and he had never, in his life, been apologetic for being violent, even if it was towards his friends. But this...it was hot, thick, clogging his throat and heavy like a weight in the bottom of his stomach. He wanted to take the action back, go back in time and do something different. Of course, that was impossible. When Francois parked in front of his apartment complex, Matt darted from the car, book bag in hand, and into the apartment complex. Francois swore in French under his breath, running from the car -making sure to lock it - and hurrying to catch up with his son. "Matt!" He heard his apartment door open before slamming shut. "Goddamn eet, Matt, slow ze fuck down! Let moi speak! Fuck!"

Matt threw his book bag onto the recliner before running into his bedroom, slamming the door and making the walls all the way to the kitchen shake.

"Matt..." Francois sighed, running a hand through his tangled, blonde hair and leaning against his son's bedroom door, "Look, damn eet, I'm...sorry, alright? Jesus! I don't want you getting into trouble in school, comprenez-vous? Now come out 'ere zo we can talk!"

Slowly, the door to Matt's bedroom opened, revealing the blonde headed little boy with watery eyes. "You promise you're sorry?" he mumbled, sniffling and rubbing his eyes in a way that made it seem like he was trying to make it look manly.

Francois kneeled down in front of his boy, eyes soft. "Oui. I promise." The boy nodded, throwing himself at his father figure with his arms around his neck and his face in Francois' shoulder; the Frenchman held Matt firmly, closely, rocking him back and forth, rubbing his back as he sobbed quietly. "Eet eez ok, mon cher, eet will all be ok... 'ey, Matt, I know w'at will cheer you up."

"W-What...?"

"Why don't you go out wizh moi tonight?"

"R...Really, Papa? I can go with you?" Matt asked, wiping his eyes as he looked up at Francois, eyes big and wet.

"Oui, of course you can."

._._._.

Oliver tugged Allen along, keeping a firm grip on his smaller hand. "Daddy, will I get to fight bad guys with you?"

He smiled, "Not yet, but you'll get to watch." The Englishman was practically bursting with pride, happy that he would get to pass on his legacy to his baby. His offspring. His heir.

"Aw...I guess that ok..." Al pouted narrowing his eyes before poking his father's side, "for now!"

"Yes, yes, cupcake, for now," he agreed walking in down the dark alley, his briefcase hitting the side of his thigh, "The bad guy's house should be up here, I made an appointment to see her so there will be no surprises. You'll have to wait out side, alright?"

"Ok, Daddy."

Oliver and Allen approached where the prostitute was supposed to meet them, a motel that didn't ask for ID and was less than One Star. Fluorescent lights buzzed as they walked to room sixty six. Oliver raised his eyebrow in confusion when he saw a boy, around Allen's age, only with wavy, dark, dishwater blonde hair down to his chin, tired dark blue eyes, leaner, taller, and wearing a red flannel shirt, thrift store, dirty, red converse and denim Bermuda shorts. "Excuse me, lad, what are you doing here? Are you waiting for someone?"

The boy looked over with bored, lazy eyes. "I don't think that's any of your business, twink," he said before blinking, turning to fully face Oliver and Al as he narrowed his eyes, "...is that...oh my God, Al? Allen, is that you?! Mon dieu, Al?!"

The British man frowned, about to say something, when he was interrupted by Al, who let go of Oliver's hand and stepped toward the strange boy. "...Matt? Matt?!"

"Oui! Yes, Al, it's me!" the other boy cried, pressing his hands to his chest and taking two more steps towards his brother, "I thought...I thought you were dead!"

"No...No, this is Ollie, my Daddy who took me in!" Allen said, rushing forward and into Matt's arms, the two brother's sharing a long, relieved hug, "Where have you been?! I missed you-!"

"I know, I'm so sorry!" Matt hushed, pressing his face in his brother's shoulder, "I...my Papa-."

Matt was cut off by the door to room sixty six opening, revealing a content -if not tired -looking Francois, who was placing an unlit cigarette between his lips. "Matt, cher, are you ready-?" He stopped abruptly, eyes falling on Oliver and no one else, "...Ripper, w'at are you doing 'ere?!" Francois hated the way his heart was beating, seeing this...man, obviously in some sort of disguise, hiding his beautiful appearance.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?!" Oliver snapped, "Did you -no...NO! Get out of my way!" The Brit pushed passed the intruder, shoving open the door and -the scene was beautiful. A beautiful mess with the Joker's name sake on the wall, in blood, blood soaking the cheap sheets and the whore's body laying prone and dead in the center of the bed. "You...how could you?!" Oliver shouted, spinning around on his heel, tears in his eyes, "How could you?! She was mine!"

"I didn't zee your name on 'er, Ripper-."

Al gritted his teeth, yanking on the sleeve of Francois' jacket. "Hey! His name is Ollie, you butt hole!"

"Allen, your language!" Oliver scolded, blushing bright red, his eyes darting to Francois.

"Ollie? 'ow...cute..."

"W-Why I have half a mind to-!"

"Papa!" Matt yelled, walking up to the Frenchman and hugging his waist, "Papa, do you remember how I told you I had a brother when you first found me? This is him! This is Al! He's alive, Papa!"

Finally, Matt and Allen's words had sunk in, Francois and Oliver's eyes had snapped to the two children, staring at their guardians expectedly. They're...brothers? "Al...Allen, we have to go..." Oliver said, his voice quiet and quivering. If Al found his brother...oh my God, he'll want to leave me!

"Wh-Wha...But Daddy-?"

"Come on now, Matt, we 'ave to go before zhere eez anymore trouble."

"Wait, non, Papa! What about Al?!"

"...we will zee 'im again," Francois lied. Unknown to Oliver, Francois was having the same thoughts as him and was willing to lie to the boy he considered a son in order to keep from being alone. That's not to say that Francois was lonely, he just thought he was, obviously, a better choice to take care of the kid.

Oliver picked Al up in his arms, holding him protectively as he glared at the handsome man in front of him. Part of him wanted to...Oliver didn't even know, but part of him wanted something with Joker. Wanted something with the legally handsome man who looked so, so serious and...and full of depth. He wanted to be part of that depth, wanted that depth to be part of his life. "Yes, we will...soon."

The Frenchman picked Matt up, glaring at Oliver with a look in his eyes that would send any normal person running or, at least, cowering in fear. But Oliver wasn't normal. Not by any means.

They began walking away, in separate directions. Matt and Al adjusted themselves on their guardian's shoulders, looking at each other as they got farther apart. Al gave his brother a big smile, waving naively and truly believing that fate, and Ollie, would let him see his brother again. Matt grinned, his little heart thumping because he truly did miss his brother, and waved back...but he knew that Francois and that weird Brit Al was so in love with wouldn't let them meet up again. Unless...unless Matt did a little work and forced the two together. Yeah...that will definitely work...

DONE!

AND OMG I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE UPDATE TIME! THIS TOOK FOR-EVER AND I DONT KNOW WHY!

Anywho, I love ya!

Characters that have suddenly appeared in this chapter:

Alice Styles (Nyo!England) (Matt's school's principle)

Bella (Belgium) (works at Oliver's bakery)

OK GUYS! THAT'S IT!

I LOVE YOU AND PLEASE REVIEW!

Happy holidays and lots of hugs,

~Kitty