Did you guys want to see Tim and Dami on a date? Probably. Will I write it? Probably not.
Why not? I have no idea, but every time I try my hands want to type something else.
So, now we have this. It's relevant to the plot, for sure, but yeah.
I'm sorry it's so short, and I'm sorry it's so scattered. I've been really caught up in Roleplaying lately, so I'm sorry if this isn't up to par with what you guys are used to… But I really need to start moving the plot along.
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The day after she went out with her sisters, Rowan was faced with a rather complex issue.
She knew that Tim and Damian thought she didn't keep secrets from them.
They were right, of course, but it was a testament to their arrogance that while she never lied to them, there were still things she kept to herself.
There were still things she kept for herself.
She tried not to lie, she couldn't really. She didn't like to be dishonest when the trait only seemed to bring trouble, but there were some things she wasn't fond of sharing without prompting. Even then, she knew that there were some thoughts that Damian and Tim just didn't really need to know.
There weren't many, of course. They were, after all, her best friends. They were still there, though, so she kept them organized on a mental list.
The first thing she ever decided to shove in the box labeled 'Not For the Boys' was her Mama's relationship with her Father. That was messy, and not quite something she could ever help to fully understand herself, and so she'd always tried her best to lock it away from the people she cared about.
That one had found its way out eventually. Really, it had been the only secret she'd kept for a long time.
Then there came Lucy.
She wasn't a horrible girl. She had her flaws, sure, but everyone else did too. But there was something about Lucy that had set Rowan on edge.
Getting close to Lucy wasn't something she'd planned. Like most things, it just sort of happened when she wasn't paying attention.
Now, if she'd been able to see the outcome of her relationship with the younger girl, Rowan might have tried to stop it on its tracks. She might've tried to put some space between them.
Maybe she even would have encouraged it.
In the end, however, she'd had none of those choices. All she'd had was a tentative connection with a little girl who didn't know how to stay out of trouble, and the trust of an aunt at her wits end.
That connection had grown until she'd found herself with a surrogate little sister. Lucy had too much sass and not enough sense, but she also had passion, and Rowan loved that about the girl. She loved it in the way she loved her Mama's iron will, and her Gran's sly tendencies. She loved it in the way she loved Elizabeth's crassness, and Catherine's practical tendencies. She loved it in the way that she loved Tim's need to take care of everyone, and Damian's protective instincts for his family.
She loved it in the way that she loved the little things about the people who were such a large part of her life, and perhaps that was why in the end, she let the girl settle into a little part of her heart until nothing short of a crowbar in her chest could yank her out.
With that firmly in place, it should have been surprise that she supremely fucked herself over for the little girl without even knowing it.
It was a simple thing, really, and it started with her leaving her house late in the afternoon because she hadn't yet learned how to refuse Lucy's rather potent puppy dog eyes yet. The girl had all but begged for them to have a sleepover, and Rowan hadn't been able to say no without feeling like she was kicking a puppy. So, resigned to a night of painting nails and braiding the younger girl's hair, she had arrived at the apartment Lucy lived in with her aunt.
She wasn't expecting to see anything but Lucy's tired aunt answering the door, perhaps with her dirty blonde hair twisted up and a thankful smile on her face. The woman was always grateful when Rowan arrived simply because it meant that she didn't have to keep up with the mini hurricane that was Lucy for the night.
What she got, however, was not Lucy's overworked aunt. To her credit though, a blonde did answer the door.
Only this blonde wore her hair in dip dyed pigtails, had black sunglasses, a body to kill for, and an air of subtle superiority that said 'I could probably kick your ass' that Rowan had only ever seen on people who tangled with the complex ideals of justice.
While her boys generally didn't bring superhero business around her, she had seen mug shots and the such scattered in their rooms or pulled up on their computers or phones when she was around them. It was unavoidable really, which was why it only took about four seconds for Rowan to match the features and build to a rather well known villain. A lot of people never really tried to make the connections, but Rowan had spent too much time around Damian and Tim not to.
Really, Rowan should have seen it coming. She had a penchant for attracting the weird ones, it seemed, so who was to say Gotham's most infamous would never cross her path?
"Hey there, darlin'," the buxom blonde said with a wild grin.
She should have been scared out of her mind, really she should have. Knowing Lucy's mom was Harley Quinn, however, just made way too much sense, so in the end, all Rowan did was sigh and rub at her face.
If death was coming for her in the form of a murderous trickster, then he might as well get in line because her boys were gonna kill her for this.
Rowan was not some big hero or villain, she would never know the strength it took to stand up and fight tooth and nail for what you believed in.
No, she did not know strength, but she knew weakness. And standing there, looking at the femme fatale that was most definitely Harley Quinn reclining on a beat up couch watching monster truck madness with her daughter, Rowan saw weakness.
Rowan wasn't a good liar, nor did she want to be, but she would not be the one to steal the smile from Lucy's face. Harley Quinn may have done some horrible things, but Harleen Quinzel was a mother who quite obviously loved her child-
So much, that she'd given her up to protect her.
As her mind whispered about hypocrisy and he blood stained hands she let touch her without pause, Rowan knew she wouldn't ruin this. If her boys asked, she'd tell them, but this was not something they needed to know. After all, the life of heroes and villains wasn't her business anyway.
And who was she to define that line anyway?
The age old question was what was the true difference between a hero and a villain?
Was Batman the paragon of good simply because he refused to kill to achieve his goals? But then what did that make his son? The boy who strived to follow in his father's footsteps, but had just as much blood on his hands as any villain?
Was Harley Quinn the poster child for evil because she cuased pain without regard and thrived in her insanity? But then here she was, laughing in cut off shorts and a crop top next to a smaller, more innocent version of herself.
Both had power to elevate them from the normal good and bad guys, both moved through the darker parts of society no one wanted to deal with. Both ended up fucked over in the end.
The only answer she could come up with was that really, there was nothing. They were all just different people who took different paths in life.
Later, when she'd went home, it was these questions of morality that kept her up for the rest of the week.
It was the realization that she'd found herself entwined with one of Batman's greatest enemies in the most innocent of ways that made her realize that she wasn't going to be able to slide by without getting tangled in the complexities of the Superhero aspect of her boys' lives.
The fact of the matter was that she needed them to let her in just a little more if she was going to be able to be with them. It was a terrifying prospect, but she needed it to happen. She knew they'd kept her out and separate from that part of themselves in fear of her getting hurt, but she couldn't stay in the separate little box they kept her in. Not anymore.
Because now she couldn't look at the stars without imagining them as a visual display of how she felt when they'd kissed her. They kissed her like she was worth it.
Tim kissed her like she was bright and precious and he never wanted to let her go.
Damian made her feel ready to combust; a sentient burning mess ready to go supernova at the slightest provocation.
Together, they made her feel like more than the scared little girl that she was. They made her feel less like the world was waiting to crush her and more like she had two strong backs to help her support the onslaught.
She looked at the stars and remembered the way they kissed her liked they cared, and she took the feeling and locked it away to keep as a balm because no matter how hard she tried her mind insisted that it was a matter of time before they realized that they'd overestimated her worth. Her mind insisted that she wasn't good enough, and so when her heart took the hit one too many times, she grasped at the memory and tried to prove herself wrong.
She'd needed that more than she could have ever realized, and she wouldn't let anyone take it from her. Not even them.
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…..I'm sorry if that didn't make sense, and if it was too short…..