December 29th

"Get in the car."

Stephanie eyed the Bugatti. "My mother told me not to get into cars with strange men."

Bruce halted, already halfway in the front seat. He stepped back out. "A minute ago you were blackmailing me. You have no problem going to a strange man's house and demanding that he pay for rehab services."

"Yeah but you're my biological father."

"Allegedly." She shifted her feet. "Which is why we're going to the lab for a DNA test."

Stephanie bit her lip. "Maybe I could call an Uber?"

Bruce sighed. "That's a strange man too."

"He's vetted! He's gone through loads of security!"

"In Gotham city?" He shook his head. "How many times have you ubered across the city?"

"A couple of times?" At his pointed look, she shrugged. "Never. It's fine."

"I think you'd be better off going with me."

"I don't think so."

Bruce sighed loudly.

January 4th

"You bitch."

He turned around in his seat, surprised. "Stephanie?"

"Fuck you," she spit, body trembling in anger. "Fuck you all the way to hell. That wasn't the deal."

Bruce stood up, eyeing the door behind her. Employees kept their heads down, pretending not to notice the spectacle in his office. He held back a sigh. "What is going on?"

She threw an envelope at him. It missed and bounced off his desk. He leaned over to pick it up. "Custody papers. That wasn't the deal. You said you'd pay for rehab, you said—"

"I said I would and I have," Bruce retorted. "I never mentioned custody."

"Because I was supposed to stay with my mom!" she shrieked. Her eyes swept across the room wildly, as if looking for something to throw. Bruce, reading her mind, stepped in front of his desk, guarding the heavy desk ornaments.

"Stephanie," he began, then narrowed his eyes at her scoff. "Stephanie," he repeated, tone firm. "You yourself mentioned many times how your mother's addiction was an unwieldy burden. That you cut school to pick up work, that you often went hungry to pay for bills."

"So what?!" She tugged at her hair agitatedly. "You said you'd pay for rehab and then we'd be fine. That was the deal, you just don't get to change things because I'm white trash and you're a stupid big business man!"

"Think about this, Stephanie," he said, "do you honestly think you can succeed in that environment?"

"Shut up," she spat. "I'm fine. Why do you care?"

"Why do you think I care?"

"Because you're a controlling prick!"

"Hey!" He frowned. "If we're going to be having this conversation, we can do it politely."

"Fuck you!" she shouted. "You don't get to take everything from me and then get pissy when I call you on it!"

"Stop it."

"No! This wasn't the deal!"

"The deal was that I would 'take care of things,'" he paraphrased her words. He stepped forward. "Your mother did not take care of you, she is not in the position to take care of you. I am, and I will."

"No you won't," she insisted. She set her chin, staring up at him. "I won't stay with you."

He didn't break her gaze. "Then no rehab."

Silence.

"I fucking hate you," she hissed. She clenched her fists at her sides. "I hope you choke on your own spit, I hate you, I hate you so much, fuck you, FUCK Y—"

Bruce stepped away, going around desk. "If that's what it takes to keep you safe, fine," he said evenly.

"You don't give a shit about me! If you did you'd let me stay with my mom!"

"I very much do give a shit about you, that's why you're standing in my office and not sitting in an alleyway down 9th street." He interrupted her before she could call him another name. "How did you get here?"

She paused. "None of your business."

He narrowed his eyes. "Does Alfred know you're here?"

"I said it was none of your business!"

She threw open the door and stomped out of the office floor. Bruce sighed and picked up his office phone. Sandra picked up within a moment, no doubt overhearing their conversation.

"I've got it," the secretary assured him. "Everything is already rescheduled."

Bruce thanked her then strode out of the office. Eyeing the elevator indicator, he passed it and took the stairs.

He had a volatile fourteen year old to drive home.

March 15th

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Steph replied, shoving her half-finished costume under the bed.

She assumed Bruce couldn't hear her accelerated heartbeat, but he was weirdly like a vampire anyways, so she wouldn't be surprised. He was looking at her suspiciously. Her lips downturned. Two months in the household and she still was being watched like a prisoner. "Drugs," she amended her original answer. "Lots and lots of drugs. I've got an entire line of coke on the floor if you want a sniff. Then I've got a blunt under my pillow, if you want to smoke. You know, regular teenager stuff."

He sighed. Steph always thought that made him look constipated.

"Are you joining us for dinner?" he asked, voice devoid of any expectation.

She frowned again. Sure, she had rejected going down to dinner every single time before, but that didn't mean he had to act like it was a burden to ask her. Dinner was the only time they even saw each other, and he acted like asking her about it was too much. That was exactly why she didn't like him. He was rude and demanding and stupid.

"Are you giving custody back to my mom?"

"No."

"Then no."

He turned to go, but not before she muttered under her breath, "Buffalo butt bastard" and he immediately turned around.

"Okay," he snapped, "How about this: you can have your meals in here for the weekend. Since you're so fond of your room, you can stay here."

"Fine!" she shot back. "Better company anyways!"

He rolled his eyes and made to shut the door.

"Wait."

He paused, hand on the doorknob. She stood, making sure not to kick the costume beneath her bed again. Once was fine, twice and he might get suspicious. "Are you going to be gone all weekend?"

He was watching her, but his normally flinty blue eyes softened. "Yes," he admitted.

"Oh. Okay."

He peered at her. She really wasn't a bad kid. Lots of attitude, that was true, but she had been taking care of her mother since she was eight. She was a hard worker and Alfred had even reported her recent kindness to Tim. No doubt she was lonely, it being spring break. However, Stephanie didn't seem like the type of person to be unkind. She likely enjoyed Tim's company even without an incentive. She was a nice girl. Something about Bruce just rubbed her the wrong way, apparently.

His seizure of custody did not help matters, but that could not be helped. He wasn't going to stand by and let a fourteen year old provide for her household. Especially his fourteen year old.

She was biting her lip, unsure. He swallowed. She really had no idea how young she was.

"Did you need anything?" he asked, voice soft. If she did, he would do it. Hell, even if she asked for her sentence to be lifted, he'd do it. Bruce just wanted…the best for her. And it was straining to be fighting against the very person he was trying so hard for.

So yes, he would do whatever she asked. He just needed to make some ground with her, and that meant leeway, he'd take it.

She met his eyes.

"No."

Her reply was brusque, clipped.

"I just wanted to make sure I wouldn't see you."

"Glad to be of service," he bit back, and closed the door behind him.

Steph gazed after him. So she was sort of grounded. Who even cared. It gave her the perfect excuse to stay in her room and work on her costume. She knelt down, fishing it out from under her bed. The purple fabric gleamed up at her. She really hoped that no one noticed that she had taken the drapes from the back room…