Many thanks to: Clacker; Justice107; Eve: DCLOVER; Pablo Agustin; Sarah; Guest: maybe because you're right? :P
Please read and enjoy !
Son
14
"Are you my father?"
The Tower Bridge did not like the impact his elbow made with its base and crumbled loudly. Bruce stared wordlessly at the destruction of the building while Hippolyte looked particularly chagrined.
"Be careful Mister Bruce!" he chided and started picking up the blocs and placing them together by shape. It took the man a few seconds to break out of his trance, still stunned by the little boy's question.
"Sorry Hip," he muttered and helped him sort the cubes apart. He kept quiet until he was certain his heartbeat had found its regular rhythm again. "Why -why do you ask?"
Hippolyte stared at him for a second, confused, before recalling his previous question.
"You are mother's special friend and you sleepover in her bed. And Madame Gisbon asked me if I was happy to see my father yesterday."
"She did?" he echoed, surprised. "When?"
"You were taking a shower and Madame Gisbon brought me my present."
"And your mom wasn't there?"
"Mother was getting magazines for Madame Gisbon. She always reads the stuff mother doesn't read anymore. She says it's good for her mind."
Mrs. Gisbon the caretaker ought to watch her words, he thought grimly, but the two other observations were true. He hadn't expected the subject to arise so soon. He hadn't expected to be asked straight ahead either and without Diana to supervise. Or perhaps her absence encouraged Hip to interrogate him. As if encouraged by his stunned silence, Hippolyte continued:
"Theo asked if you ate a lot of spinach to be so big and Julie said that if you were mother's special friend, then you will be my father. Ludo said you must be because my eyes are blue and yours are blue too. At school, Tristan says I must be a batard because mother lives alone and I don't know my father." Bruce immediately felt the spike of anger and thought he would very much like to have a word with that kid's parents.
"You never asked Diana?" he couldn't help but question. Hippolyte looked uncomfortable.
"Mother was not happy when I asked," he said hesitantly. Bruce forced himself not to feel upset: just like with James Leblanc, he suspected Hip not to have identified the appropriate feeling. Diana might have been embarrassed or annoyed, but not unhappy. He hoped so. "And Lucas has only one mother too, so I didn't ask again." The little boy met his eye again, this time thoughtful. "So, Mister Bruce, are you my father? That'd be neat."
If he weren't so nervous, Bruce would have probably laughed at the bold and innocent words. Instead, he swallowed heavily and admitted:
"Yes, I am. Your father, that is."
Hippolyte looked satisfied with the answer. He grinned and immediately reported his attention back on the construction blocs.
"Cool. Come on Mister Bruce, we need to build a new building."
And Bruce could only stare at the kid in bewilderment. That was it? Hippolyte seemed upset earlier, only to regain his spirit when a confirmation was given? Either his son had the shortest attention spam ever, or he didn't feel so strongly about the matter as Bruce thought. Disappointment took him by surprise, although he wasn't certain why. Hip had grown without a father but surrounded by many people who cared for him. From his own tales, he had plenty male figures to look up to. A 'father' was certainly just a concept to him, a means to fit in with the other children.
He remembered his own childhood, growing up with Alfred as sole parent. He remembered the callous remarks from his classmates, the stares and smirks. He had learned to grow immune to them in time, especially with the support of his guardian. Still, they had stung for a while. He couldn't blame Hippolyte for seeking something concrete to show his friends and stop the mocking.
"Hey Mister Bruce?" He glanced at the boy again. Hippolyte looked slightly nervous. "Can I call you father?"
Bruce found himself tongue-tied for the second time in ten minutes. Instead, he nodded briefly.
"Cool," Hip said, beaming. This time, Bruce could only feel very warm and grinned back.
The two resumed rebuilding the miniature Tower Bridge, but there was undisputable lightness in the air.
The good mood lasted until Diana opened the door at the very moment the last cube was set no top. The window let a draft of wind into the room and half of the construction crumbled, again.
"Mother!" Hip shouted, outraged. Diana froze in the door.
"I'm so sorry Hip," she said apologetically. Bruce tried not to laugh at their son's pout. He couldn't be cuter if he tried.
"It's alright," Bruce intervened. "We can do a better one later."
Hip, who couldn't hold a grudge against his mother for over ten seconds, bargained instead:
"I want ice cream for dessert."
"One scoop," Diana relented guiltily.
"Two! Don't forget father!"
The terminology made her blink. She glanced at him questioningly. Bruce felt himself grinning like a madman. Diana seemed to abandon the matter for a later date, namely Hippolyte's nap, and returned her attention to her son.
"One scoop, Hip. You won't steal Bruce's portion."
"I don't steal," the little boy protested. "And it's not stealing if it's given freely."
Diana raised a reprobating eyebrow. Hip gave him a pleading look.
"One scoop," Bruce intervened. "Your mom and I agree on that."
Else he'd never go to sleep. Hippolyte pouted but eventually relented.
Son
Diana ran a hand in Hip's hair as his eyelids fluttered and completely closed. His short, soft puffs made her smile again. She kissed his forehead, never tiring of the gesture. In a few years, he might rebuff her display of affection. She hoped it would not happen before a long time. Now that he sunk into unconsciousness, she left the room, closed the door and stepped down the stairs back to the living room. Bruce was checking the news on his cellphone, a visible frown on his face. She bit back a smile at recognizing the expression. She had seen it once at the lake house, but now, the resemblance was overly striking. Bruce caught her smile, raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Something amusing?" he inquired.
"I always though Hippolyte inherited that frown from my aunt. I can clearly see I was mistaken," she teased. The frown turned into a thin smile.
"He must inherit something from me," he retorted without heat. She took the seat beside him on the sofa. Now that their son was safely tucked in dreamland, she could ask the question that had been on her mind for the past few hours.
"Since when does Hippolyte call you 'father'?"
Bruce stiffened and glanced at her warily.
"Do you mind?"
"You are his father and he was bound to found out someday." Seeing him still hesitant, she added softly: "I am not criticizing, I am curious."
And she was sincere. Although the thought of officially sharing Hip still bothered her, the idea didn't seem as unpleasant as before. She knew Bruce by now, knew he would be good to Hippolyte. She didn't regret withholding her son's existence to him so far, but now that he was determined to share their life, they might as well make the best of it.
"You have to thank Mrs. Gisbon for that," he replied, somewhat dryly. "She blatantly asked if he was happy that his father was there. He merely followed up with a straight question, a little before you came home. I couldn't lie."
"I wouldn't ask it of you," Diana countered gently, though she decided to have a firm discussion with Mrs. Gisbon in the next few days.
"He caught me off guard," he went on. "One moment we were playing, the next, he just blurted it out. I thought he would –I don't know why I thought it would change his behavior. Nothing has really changed, except that he calls me 'father' now."
"Bruce," she interrupted with a hint of amusement. "Trust me, he is glad. It gives him a sense of normality."
"Even without our extra activities, this isn't a normal situation," he retorted sarcastically. Diana leaned back in the couch without breaking eye contact.
"Do you think I am not aware of it?" she replied dryly. "Remember why I was not so keen on introducing you two?"
He fell silent and Diana felt slightly guilty.
"Bruce, you must keep in mind, he is five. As he grows, he will be more aware of your role in his life. Trust me, he won't let you forget him anytime soon." The look he gave her seemed half a plea for reassurance, half accusing of making him hope for more. Diana refrained from reaching out to his face, instead squeezed his hand again. His shoulders relaxed imperceptibly. He was so insecure it genuinely pained her.
"I want to step up to meet his expectations," Bruce admitted quietly. "I want to meet your expectations too."
Diana felt genuinely happy to hear that.
"And I want us to work together. Do you think we can achieve that?"
The small smile returned. She shivered, wondering if Hip would inherit that physical feature too. Many broken hearts in view indeed, she thought warily.
"I was thinking we could, for starters, find out what we should do this afternoon to keep him busy. Unless you want to discuss what is on your mind." Bruce stared at her in confusion. "Something on that phone is troubling you. Do you want to talk about it?"
"I think I know where Hip gets his directness from," he retorted warily. For a moment, she thought he would not answer, then he handed her the phone directly. She skimmed over the article, noting that a shadow named Nightwing had made a big bust and might have been injured in the process.
"A protégé of yours?" she guessed. The only pictures available were those of the beaten up gang tied up together, but the journalist clearly hinted that the police only showed up to clean someone else's mess.
"My first adopted son," he admitted warily, eying her reaction. Diana blinked, absorbed the information. He had spoken of his sons before, Richard Grayson and Jason Todd. She knew, of course, that the latter had died rather violently. The notion of meeting the former had occurred to her; she had merely forgotten about it. "I haven't told him about Hippolyte yet."
"Why?" she asked, but suspected the answer.
His face darkened as he explained:
"I told you we had a loud…argument, since Jason's death." She nodded. It had been one enlightening and emotional evening over the phone from his part, and had helped her in understanding his character. "We haven't seen each other since." His fingers twitched as his jaw tightened briefly. "The subject will be touchy and he will do the math. He will know Hip was conceived soon after Jason…"
Diana crossed her arms, waited patiently for the rest to come. She had an idea where he was headed but wanted him to say the words.
"I don't want him to hate Hip." He met her eyes, almost pleading. "Dick is my son in all but blood. I don't know how he will react to the news."
"I suggest you find out before our coming in May," she pointed out dryly. "I can face resentment, but I won't have Hip meet his half-brother and suffer from it." She softened her tone: "Bruce, it will be better if you tell him face-to-face. It's been over five years; you have to reconcile eventually." Diana purposely touched his arm. "Hip is only an inducement. It would be a good thing for your peace of mind and everyone else's." When he stared blankly at her, she rolled her eyes and added: "Do you truly think Richard and M. Pennyworth did not suffer from the separation?"
"Of course I do!" he snapped. "It's just –we both said things we didn't think in anger and it hurt." He paused. "I hope he said them in anger."
Diana rolled her eyes.
"Call him."
Bruce stared at her in bafflement.
"What?"
"I have a feeling that if you wait until you are back to Gotham, you will never meet with him. Call him now if you must, tonight the latest." She took his hand, squeezed it. He looked torn between vehement protest and ready to bolt. "Bruce, I will be here through every step if you need me, but this is something you need to do. You had over five years to think over the words you exchanged. Not to mention, I believe it's politeness to warn him about the situation before the media do."
Perhaps pushing him was not the greatest plan, but she had a feeling this situation had to be solved quickly. Bruce snorted and glared at her without heat.
"You will see this through, won't you?" She raised an eyebrow in response. He might be a stubborn man, but she could tell he would learn quickly which battles he could take against her, especially since he didn't appear particularly eager to win it. "You seem oddly content with the situation," he pointed out.
She shrugged.
"You don't live a few thousand years without meeting struggles with other beings. Your son is a grown man, I can handle him. My only worry concerns Hippolyte. If he learns Richard is his half-brother, he will want to get to know him." She paused and smiled thinly. "If Richard can't accept Hip, I won't tell him."
"Our relationship is already strained, I doubt it can get worse," he muttered. His grip on the phone had tightened. Diana knew the matter would be tackled later, but not this afternoon. He needed more time to prepare himself and make that long overdue call, and if it did not turn well, she understood he didn't want to upset Hip.
She squeezed his shoulder again.
"Out to the park again?" she suggested. Bruce nodded and both began discussing the myriad of activities that would occupy a five year old for the remaining of his stay.
Son
Richard 'Dick' Grayson had known better days. Running after low-rated thugs had been a part of his life ever since he had hit his teenage years. Last night's gang should have been an easy feat. Unfortunately, cockiness and self-assurance got the better of him and he found himself surprised by the pointy edge of a dagger. The injury was slight, not enough to hamper his everyday life, but it did bruise his ego. He checked his bandage in the mirror, made sure it didn't show under his shirt. Work shouldn't be harassing though, as he had cleaned the streets quite hard. Worse he expected today was to fill his late paperwork and probably ask after the kid who had been lingering on the streets for a while.
He pocketed his badge, picked up his phone. Noted a voicemail had been left barely a minute ago.
His whole body tensed when he realized who exactly had called him.
Bruce fucking Wayne.
The spark of anger rose within him. Six years now, that they hadn't exchanged a word. Oh he was quite certain his adoptive father kept tabs on him; Bruce was that kind of control freak. He himself eyed the occasional article on Gotham's favorite playboy billionaire. Said articles had been fewer and fewer the past months though, as if the man had decided to act more…responsibly. A random journalist had commented his sudden shift of behavior, although the whacking theories he came up with sounded far more like guesswork than actual facts, but enough to make him slightly worry. Only slightly, mind you. Had Bruce truly been on his deathbed, he trusted Alfred to give him a head's up.
Dick sighed heavily; he missed the older men. Although his father figure had been an utter jerk during their last meeting, the day he had left was also the day he lost his brother in all but blood and abandoned his substitute grandfather. The loss of Jason still stung and Bruce's reaction even more. Work had proven to be an excellent outlet and since he actually excelled in it…
He glanced back at the voicemail notification. The red signal blinked, as if taunting him, daring him to find out what his old mentor wanted from him.
Curiosity would be his downfall, Dick thought, as he reluctantly pressed the button and listened.
"Hi, Dick, it's me." Pause. "I know it's been a while but we need to talk. Something happened recently, and I want to tell you face to face, not over the phone, and even less on a voicemail." He raised his eyebrows, puzzled. There was something in his tone that didn't bode well and he didn't like it. "Tell me whenever you're free. I'll stop by." Another pause, and Bruce added wryly: "I'm not sick or dying, if you were ever wondering. Just text when you're ready."
Charming as ever, Dick thought with a huff. Still, he felt intrigued. Both he and Bruce were proud men and he had no doubt their estrangement would have lasted over a decade. Which brought the question, what on earth did Bruce want from him? Something happened recently, according to his own words, something important enough that he would break the stalemate and call. Who knew, perhaps Bruce was finally getting hitched and wanted to warn him before the medias. Dick snorted as he left his apartment. Yeah, that would be the day.