Tempest: Chapter Fifteen: A Visit to Wayne Manor


"Master Richard, you must get up if you want to get to school on time," Alfred said, knocking lightly on the door before entering to find Dick swathed in his blankets, giving no indication that he had moved. "Master Richard?"

"I'm not feeling well, Alfred," Dick croaked from the bed and he didn't see the flicker of indecision in his eyes.

"Of course, Master Richard," he said quietly, shutting the door behind him to look to Bruce Wayne.

"Call the school," Bruce said, "let them know he won't be coming in. Then call Amara Allen and ask if she'd keep him company."

Alfred's eyes rose on his forehead but he only said "Of course, Master Bruce."

Amara Allen, famous to the Justice League now under the name Oracle, was the same age as Dick. Alfred wasn't sure who Dick talked to more, Amara or Wally West, and he was glad that he had found friends in the League whereas things at school only made things difficult for him (even if he'd be the last one to admit it). Dick called them the "adrenaline junkie" and the "run-a-holic" but with a note of fondness.


Amara was struggling, but she would be the last one to admit it. Her arms were sore and her legs were shaking, but she was determined to walk the length of the Cave's monitor womb –from which a pair of bars had been brought up from the floor, the bars ending where her wheelchair was and her phone– and she was only halfway across and exhausted.

Dinah thought it was a good idea to push herself a little more every day.

"Don't go overboard, though," she'd warned, "I know you want to get back on your feet, but there's a right way to do this and we want to make your healing gradual, not push it back, all right?"

And Amara had grudgingly agreed.

So here she was, using her arms to balance her legs above the ground while she recovered a little (she could use her powers, of course, but that would defeat the point of the exercise).

Then she took a deep breath and lowered her feet to the floor once more, which was fine until she had to put her weight on her feet, and then she almost fell to the floor again, and only remained standing by her vice-like grip on the bars.

"I don't think so!" Amara snarled to herself, swinging a leg forward forcefully, even though it didn't move nearly as far as she'd been going for.

One foot and then the other.

Amara had thrown out her fear of failure weeks ago when she had consented to allow Pamela to help her with her first steps; Barry and Iris had been ecstatic that she could stand on her own and take even one step, so it had been worth it.

One foot and then the other.

One foot and then the other.

She was three-quarters through now.

"I am never taking Roy's patrol ever again," Amara proclaimed fervently into the silence. Re-training was hellish and she blamed the atrophied muscles in her legs and groaned loudly; it was going to take her forever to get back into shape once she could fully use her legs.

Of course, she'd cut off her leg to be on patrol with Roy right now, but here she was.

She gave a despondent sigh, the melancholic atmosphere broken by the sharp ring of her phone, the screen lighting up blue.

And Amara said a word she never would in Barry or Iris' presence. "Fuck!"

It could have been Barry or Iris calling to check in, or the Star City Heroes needing a run-down on something or it could have been Wally or Dick calling just to talk, but Amara wasn't even sure which of those it was, but she was going to reach it before the last ring.

Ring!

Step.

Ring!

Step. Step.

Ri—

Amara grabbed the phone before she crumpled to the ground, her head whacking against the footplate as she hit answer on the phone without so much as glancing to see who had called her in the first place, though, if she had, she wouldn't have recognized the number.

"Yeah?" she said, rubbing at the sore spot on her head from the fall.

"Miss Amara Allen?" came an unfamiliar voice on the other end –older, posh, British.

"Um, yes?" She said, it coming out more like a question as she winced with the throbs of her bump.

"My name is Alfred Pennyworth," the man said and Amara sat up so suddenly that her head banged into the bar.

"Alf–ah, shit!"

Amara clapped a hand over her forehead, where she was sure a bruise would be forming sooner rather than later.

"Um, you're Richard's butler, right? You work for the Waynes, right?" Amara questioned, deciding that remaining on the ground was probably better for her health in her current situation.

"Yes, I am," he replied easily.

"Is something wrong with Richard?" Amara asked in surprise. "I don't usually get these kind of calls…"

"Master Richard is feeling a bit under the weather—"

"He's feeling a bit under the weather?" Amara repeated doubtfully. She could count on one hand the number of times Dick had felt under the weather and still have fingers left over, and that kind of 'under the weather' usually resulted from cold rain and not getting out of his wet uniform fast enough, giving him a cold (Amara had suffered the same fate before, since using her powers to keep rain off her was draining at worst).

"He could use some company," Alfred acquiesced and Amara's brow wrinkled in confusion, but she didn't question it.

"Mint chocolate chip is still his favorite ice cream, right?" she asked and she received a small, answering chuckle.

"It is."

"I'll see if Wally wants to come along," Amara assured him before ending the call and hitting the speed dial to her dad.

"Hey, sweetheart, still at the Cave?"

"For now," Amara said, glaring at the bars above her briefly before grinning in spite of herself. "Hey, I managed to walk the length of the bars today!"

"That's great!" the excitement in her father's voice couldn't have been faked and it made her grin widen.

"And I'm thinking of kidnapping Wally and going to Gotham," she added.

"Gotham?" Barry said in surprise.

"Alfred called and thought it might be a good idea if we kept Robin company…do you mind if I go see him?"

There was silence on the other end and Amara could just imagine her father mulling over the idea. She knew he had nothing against Robin, he'd certainly seen him enough to like him, and he'd ate dinner at her house a few times when he stayed over late to help her with coding. The only boys Barry actually trusted to leave her alone with were Roy, Wally, and Robin.

"You'll call me when you get there?"

"Yes, Dad," Amara said with a loud sigh, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

"All right," he said, sounding a little reluctant (Amara got the feeling he didn't like his partially disabled daughter wheeling around in a place she didn't know all too well). "Have fun."


"Looks like you won't be going on patrol with me today," Barry commented, turning to Wally who was leaning against the desk of Barry's in his office at the CCPD.

"Aw, what?" complained Wally, who had been waiting the better part of fifteen minutes for his uncle to tell him if he could go on patrol or not, and Wally had all the time in the world, seeing as he didn't have any school that day. "Come on, Uncle B!"

"Your cousin is going to Gotham City to see Robin," Barry said, arching an eyebrow at how his nephew perked up at the mention of the best friend he hadn't seen in a few weeks. "She wants to know if you're coming with."

Wally scoffed, waving a hand carelessly. "Of course I'm coming with, why is that even a question?" Then he'd shot off before Barry could offer a reply, the younger speedster careful so as not to use his super-speed on his way out, leaving his uncle blinking in surprise.

Then he smiled, shaking his head slightly before returning to his work.


"You're going to see Rob?"

Amara didn't even bother looking surprised at her cousin came to a stop in front of her, skidding just slightly before stopping an inch from hitting her wheelchair, which was greatly appreciated.

"Alfred called and said he was 'feeling under the weather'," Amara said, taking the swinging plastic bag from him and inspecting the tub of ice cream that she had texted Wally to go grab.

"Rob doesn't feel under the weather," Wally said suspiciously, sharing a significant look with his cousin.

"Exactly," Amara agreed. "So are you coming or not?"

"Of course I'm coming!" Wally said, slightly insulted that she'd say anything different, grabbing the handles of Amara's wheelchair and wheeling her towards the door. "Come on, I'll run us over!"

It took Barry considerably less time to run to Gotham City than it did Wally, for obvious reasons, and those reasons being Wally was considerably slower than his uncle (and Barry didn't mind lapping him with his speed, even if it annoyed Wally more than a little). And Amara generally didn't mind, but she actually liked the wheels on her wheelchair to function.

"Maybe we should just take the zeta-tube, Wally?" Amara sniggered and Wally looked down at her in surprise.

"Or we could do that," he muttered sheepishly before rushing out of the door with Amara at a disconcerting speed.


"Recognize: Oracle –B00, Kid Flash –A06."

The Gotham City zeta-tube was much smaller in size than the one in Central City, which meant Wally had to maneuver a bit in order to pull himself out of the cramped back alley phone booth that had long since been pasted with an out of order sign on the outside of it to deter others from using it.

"Um…maybe we should pull you out first and then the wheelchair," Wally decided after a moment of contemplation and watching Amara struggle turning the wheelchair.

"Probably," she grumbled under her breath, reaching out for Wally to assist her and locking her arms around his neck as he pulled her out through the dingy door. Amara propped herself against the wall, still clutching the bag that held Dick's ice cream.

A moment later Wally had managed to pull the wheelchair free, giving it a regal gesture, "My queen!"

Amara rolled her eyes at her cousin's antics, but she pulled herself into the chair once more as the clouds darkened overhead to open up into a downpour.

Wally gave her a look.

"Hey!" she complained. "It wasn't me this time!"

She supposed she deserved that look, though, Keystone and Central City had certainly gotten a number of showers this year, courtesy of one temperamental atmo-kinetic meta-human. Honestly, Amara didn't know her own strength, which was part of the problem.

"Do we even know the way to Wayne Manor?" Wally asked, looking up at the sky as the rain pattered down on them.

Amara leaned over to pull out a sheet of paper with directions. "I don't think it's very far, think you can make it before we get soaked?"

Wally's answering grin was impossibly wide. "Oh, come on, Amy, this is me we're talking about! I can get us there in no time!"

And Amara barely had the chance to yelp in surprise as he gave a sudden burst of speed, wheeling her out of the alley and onto the street, careful so as not to hit anyone at his super-speed.

Amara really hated when he did that without any warning.


Alfred Pennyworth answered the door swiftly and found staring at the two figures beyond it.

Amara Allen was green in the face, a hand pressed to her forehead and looking quite ill, but Wally West was grinning brightly at Alfred, not seeming to notice how the wheels on Amara's wheelchair were slightly smoking.

"Hi, Alfred!" Wally said brightly and Amara gave a tired wave.

"Mr. West, Miss Allen," Alfred said politely, "please come in."

He moved back, opening the door wider to allow Amara to be pushed in by her cousin.

"I am never letting you push me around again," Amara swore as the sickly green color of her cheeks faded. "Next time I'm flying us."

"You're joking, right?" Wally gave a small gag. "And not have anything under my feet, no thanks."

They squabbled like siblings, Alfred was amused to note, something Dick had mentioned as well.

Meanwhile, Dick had begun to come down the main staircase at the sound of voices, only to pause when he saw his friends in the foyer with Alfred.

"Hey, Dick!" Wally waved and Amara arched an eyebrow, taking note of the lack of color on his face.

Dick turned right around and headed back up the stairs.

"Hey!" Wally complained.

"Richard John Grayson!"

Amara's use of his full name stopped him cold. Had he even told her his middle name? He couldn't remember.

He turned back slightly as Amara rolled towards the foot of the stairs, a dark scowl on her lips. "I will climb these stairs if I have to!"

Alfred blinked, Dick froze, and Wally positively gawped.

Dick had heard, of course, that Amara had started walking again, since Amara had called him right after she had told Roy and Wally, but he also knew that it was slow work and he wasn't entirely sure that Amara would be able to make it up to where he was, but that didn't stop Amara from rolling up the staircase's edge, pulling herself upright and dragging her feet up to the first step.

It looked like she was moving with lead strapped to her feet and it was clear that it caused her a great discomfort, but she didn't stop.

"H-Hey! Don't—" he forced the words out of the throat that was croaky, taking a few steps down as Amara stumbled up them until she could grasp his shirt, breathless from the exertion.

The green of her eyes was the precise color of leaves, a few shades off from Wally's, and they were intent on his own.

"You, Wally, and me," she managed before sucking in a breath, "you're going to tell us what's wrong. Then we're going to eat ice cream and watch Harry Potter and Wally promises not to interrupt with science-y things."

Dick's lips drew into a thin line and he ground his teeth together, looking from one cousin to the other. Wally was resolute with his arms crossed and a look in his eyes that said it was best not to argue.

And Dick couldn't help but cave, and a split second later, Amara's legs crumpled under her, sending her falling back, but before Dick could reach out a hand, Wally had caught her and returned her to the wheelchair.

Dick looked to Alfred wordlessly.

"The multimedia room is yours, Master Richard," he said simply and Dick sighed, leading them in the direction of the room with the large television.


"Richard Grayson is just the adoptive son of Bruce Wayne."

"Uh, yeah, dude, we kind of got that back when you told us who you were," Wally said, a bit befuddled with his words as Amara cocked her head to the side in confusion.

"No," Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair, making it wilder than usual, "you don't understand—"

"Are people at your school bullying you because you're adopted?" Amara asked, sounding startled and Wally's head whipped with speed, looking from his best friend to his cousin.

"What?"

Dick chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I'm not Bruce's real kid—"

"Does he look real to you, Wally?" Amara asked the red-haired speedster.

Wally cupped his chin thoughtfully. "He does look like he's flesh and blood, but let's be sure." And he reached forward to poke Dick harshly on the forehead.

"Ow!" Dick complained, rubbing at the spot on his head. "What was that for?"

"You are real, Rob," Wally insisted, "just because Bruce adopted you doesn't change the fact that you're his kid, 'cause you know who else is adopted, this girl!"

He jabbed a thumb in his cousin's direction and Amara snorted, knocking the thumb away.

"And Uncle B and Aunt I treat her like she's their flesh and blood!"

"And you have no idea how many times I've had to point out that I don't look like Barry because I'm adopted," Amara added, rolling her eyes for good measure. It was easy to argue that she looked a little like Iris because they both had green eyes, but Amara wasn't blonde like Barry.

"You could easily be mistaken as Bruce's kid," she added, "besides, Bruce chose to adopt you. You know his opinion of you, what those bullies think doesn't matter."

It was easier for her, Dick thought to himself, Amy didn't have to go out to official functions as Bruce Wayne's ward. She was just the adoptive daughter of a reporter and forensic scientist. But she was also homeschooled, a complete science nerd, and had been confined to a wheelchair for almost half a year, and that was more than enough ammunition for bullies.

"We actually like Dick Grayson," Wally added, before grinning widely, "even if he's a little crazy!"

Dick shoved a pillow in his best friend's face amidst laughter from Amara.

He hated his friends.

(He loved them.)


Amara fell asleep barely half an hour into the Philosopher's Stone and Dick and Wally didn't bother to remove her arms from where she'd looped them through theirs.


"It's okay to admit that you need me, Speedy," was the first sound Bruce Wayne was greeted with as he entered the multimedia room of his home, as that was where Alfred said Dick and his guests were.

Dick was curled up at the edge of the couch, while Wally was sprawled, his limbs haphazard as he slept on, the pair oblivious of their quietly speaking friend at the opposite end of the couch.

Her laptop was open on her lap and Bruce could hear the tell-tale sound of a comlink's buzzing from her ear.

Amara snorted. "Yeah, that'll be the day, you let me know how that goes…goodbye, Roy, try not to kill Ollie, would you? I actually like him."

She lifted a hand to her ear, shutting off the feed with a small smile at his answering snippy reply that she cut off swiftly.

"Amara."

Amara jolted in surprise, twisting to see Bruce Wayne –the Batman himself!– stepping into the half-light of the room.

"Um," she swallowed, "Mr. Wayne, hi, uh, Richard's sleeping and Wally's totally out of it."

He found it faintly amusing that she called Dick 'Richard' when most people called him 'Dick', but if it annoyed Dick, he didn't show it.

"Yes, I can see that," Bruce commented lightly, moving to sit in the armchair close to her. "Is he feeling better?"

"Nothing some ice cream and a few meta-humans can't cure," Amara assured him with a smile.

Bruce could see so much of Poison Ivy in her daughter, in the way she smiled and in the shape and precise shade of green that her eyes were.

"Richard's tough," she added, "we just had to remind him that he is your son, biological or not."

Bruce started in surprise, glancing over to where Dick was still curled. He hadn't thought that Dick still had those insecurities about being the son of Bruce Wayne.

He breathed out slowly. "Thank you and Wally for coming and keeping him company."

"It's no problem," Amara promised, "today was my day off anyways." She glanced back to her laptop, scowling at the results the popped up.

"Sorry," she added, when she noticed she'd kind of cut him off, "Robin and I are trying to develop a new facial recognition software for the League and it's not really going the way we hoped…"

She'd put aside her studies on genetics briefly since Robin had come to her, his blue eyes gleaming.

"I have an idea," he had said, "wanna help upgrade the League's facial recognition software?"

"Hell yeah," Amara had said, grinning brightly.

Bruce gave her a prompting glance and Amara elaborated.

"Well, the current facial recognition software requires a full face for an ID," Amara explained, glancing to where her cousin and friend were still slumbering, "we're trying to come up with one that requires less but can make…" She screwed up her face. What had Robin called it? "…facial approximations. That way less villains slip through the cracks."

It was an idea of merit, that much Bruce was sure.

"Of course," she muttered under her breath, "I need a skull to compare against to see if it really will work and what points of the face are required to make the best approximation…"


A week later Amara got a polished skull in the mail, clearly fake, but also clearly modeled in the likeness of a human.

"Do I want to know why you got a skull in the mail?" Iris asked her daughter ominously.

"Maybe," Amara said cheerfully drawing out the word as she examined the skull. "Don't worry, Mom, it's for the League."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Batman approves," Amara said in a manner that made it clear she thought that should have cleared up everything.

"Amara!"

"What? It's not like I'm involved in any illegal activities!" Amara complained loudly, making her father –in the kitchen, reading the paper– chuckle.

"Don't worry, babe," he said in that soothing voice of his, "it's just a little project she and Robin are working on, facial recognition, and what kind of trouble do you think Amy can get up to with that?"

Iris had to concede to that; the amount of trouble Amara got into with her laptop was negligible.

Amara sniggered quietly to herself.