Bird in the Nest

by scesketch

Samantha Meyers, Alfred Pennyworth's grand niece, has been hired to work at Wayne Manor as a maid. Little does she realize that living in the same house as billionaire Bruce Wayne and his four sons will come with its own difficulties.

9. Chapter 8: Angry Masks

Chapter 8 - Angry Masks

I spent the entire day in my room. My excuse was that I hadn't cleaned it since I arrived; I doubt Alfred really bought it, but he only checked in once, so I assume he understood what I was really doing, which was sulking. I am a champion sulker when I desire to be.

All I wanted to do was help. I should be allowed that much, after practically living in the Batcave for over a week. I knew the ins and outs of how the Batfamily worked; heck, I could already manage the computer. But no, Alfred wanted me far away from anything Bat-related, and why? Because he thought I was fragile. That word in particular hurt like a sting; it's the last word I want associated with me. So what if I've got a terminal disease? It doesn't turn me into porcelain. I can have an idea just fine without it killing me.

I got a call from Bruce around noon. He told me he had been to the police station to talk to Jim Gordon about my plan. This got me excited again; maybe the fight in the hallway hadn't been for nothing.

"What did he say?" I asked.

Bruce sighed, the sound gargling through the phone speaker. "He said it would be a great plan… if the shop owners agreed to it, not to mention about fifty business executives."

My face fell. "Okay, well… did you talk to them?"

"There's only so much I can do in a day. If one person of influence doesn't give their consent, Wayne Enterprises could face a lawsuit."

"You can handle one lawsuit, you're a billionaire!"

"Well, try twenty lawsuits."

"But-"

"I'm sorry, Sam. It's not going to work."

I blew out my breath and rubbed my eyes. "Okay, well… what about as Batman?"

"If he tried, I think there would be even worse pushback. Batman's a symbol of fear, not security."

"People respect him."

"They respect a man who wears a two-piece and knows his way around an office, like they do. It's just not going to work; we have to accept that."

"What's plan b?"

"I'll work on it."

"I can help-"

"Alfred's made himself clear on that point."

I growled into the speaker. "I'm not fragile. I can come up with a plan."

"Your plan was a good one, but like I said, it's time to accept that it won't work. On a different note, Alfred and I have been talking, and we think it's time we finished up our research."

I blinked. "Okay. Why the rush?"

"We just think you should spend more time up in the Manor, where you belong, instead of hooked to a monitor in a drafty cave."

"I don't mind it so much."

"I hired you to help clean my house, not to spend every available hour—"

"Wait, wait." I frowned, my fingers tightening around the phone. "Is this because you don't want me involved with Batman?"

Bruce hesitated, which was proof enough. I didn't give him a chance to answer.

"You know what, I will stay out of your cave, and out of your business. But you let Alfred know, I'm not doing it because you asked; I'm doing it because you're both jerks."

Beep.

I yelled and threw the phone onto my pillows.

My plan had failed, and now Bruce didn't want me to help. Even after Barbara called me part of the family, I still wasn't family enough to contribute. Top that with a heaping helping of distrust and babying, and it was enough to put me in a bad mood for days. I was going to be banished from the Batcave; what could possibly be worse?

Knock knock.

"Samantha, darling. I have lunch."

I squared my jaw. He could be worse. I wouldn't open the door, not for Alfred. If he thought he could just make everything better with a sandwich, he was wrong. I flopped face-first into my pillows and stayed silent.

He knocked again. "Samantha, I know you're in there. Don't make me open this door."

He wouldn't. He was too much of a gentleman.

"Samantha, please?"

I smooshed the pillows over my ears. I waited for several minutes, and when he didn't speak again, I dared to get up and go to the door. He was gone, but he left a tray of food. Sure enough, sandwiches. I was tempted to flip the entire tray and spill his nicely de-crusted ham-and-cheeses onto the carpet.

I didn't do it, but I could barely taste them anyway for the enormous lump in my throat.

/

By sunset, I was starting to feel lonely. Avoiding Alfred, and now Bruce, by staying in my room all day meant I didn't get any social interaction. As I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, I wondered how much motivation and energy it would take to get up and search out the boys. As far as I knew, they didn't know about the argument, and hadn't been banned from speaking to me. But it would take so much to sit up, and slide off the bed, and leave the room… couldn't they just come to me?

That was when I heard a knock-a knock on the balcony door.

I turned my head and saw Damian standing outside, his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing his Robin costume. He tapped on the doors again. "Are you going to let me in?"

I walked hesitantly to the doors and opened them. "What exactly are you doing on my balcony? And wearing that?"

Damian strode into my room. "You need my help."

"With what?"

"Your plan." Damian chucked a small, black object to me. I caught it in my hands; it felt sturdy, but soft. "You'll need this," Damian said. "I also suggest you put on something a shade darker."

I blinked at him. "Wait, wait. How do you know about…?"

Damian glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. My heart sank.

"You know about the whole thing, don't you? The argument?"

"I do. I thought you had a reasonably good plan. My father is a fool for denying you your potential, as is Pennyworth."

"Um… thanks. Did the others hear about it?"

"I assume they know by now."

Shoot.

Damian paused, his hand on the closet door. "I know that your plan failed, at least the way father was carrying it out. So we need to approach it differently."

He opened my closet and started pulling out the darkest items he could find. "I've calculated the timing and route of the mission, so we get everything to the docks on time; and I grabbed this." He held up a cinch-top sack big enough to be a mailbag.

Something clicked into place in my brain. "Wait, we're stealing? No, no, no, Damian, that's the worst, worst plan possible!"

"Do you have a better one?"

I finally looked at the sturdy, soft thing he had thrown to me. It was a mask-one of the traditional Bat-masks the boys wore. It looked so out of place in my room. It would look even more out of place on my face.

"Stealing is against Batman's code," I ventured. "Doesn't this go against everything you stand for-you know, justice and honor and all that?"

Damian snorted. "My father does his fair share of stealing, especially from those halfwit detectives at the GCPD. He does what has to be done, and so do I."

"Yeah, but I don't! I have never, ever gone against the law in my life, and if we got caught…"

"We would not get caught," Damian said, sounding slightly offended. "You'd be with me."

"Okay, but… even if I did come, why would you pick me to help? I'd just slow you down."

"It's your plan. You should have the chance to execute it."

Well… that was what I wanted, wasn't it? I slowly bent down and picked up the dark clothing Damian had pulled out of my closet. "I don't know. I don't like it."

"Sometimes, for the greater good, we have to do things we don't like."

We locked eyes and stood in silence for the longest time, my brain rushing from scenario to scenario. I could get caught, by the police, or worse, by Batman. What would Alfred think then? What would Bruce think? They might kick me out.

But if I didn't get caught… this could be my chance, both to help Bruce, and to prove to him and Alfred that I wasn't fragile. Damian was used to this kind of work; if I followed him, maybe, just maybe, we could pull it off.

"If we do this," I said, "you have to promise me we won't get caught."

"You have my word," Damian said.

That would have to do. I nodded.

"Let's do it."

Damian pulled a black hoodie out of the closet and tossed it to me. "We'll arrive at our first location at twilight-late enough for the stores to be closed and early enough that my father won't have started patrolling yet. It will only take a moment to disarm security and collect our charges; then we do the same with each of the jewelry stores and take the final load to the docks. We'll be finished before my father has his cowl on. The sun is still about five minutes from setting. Get dressed; I'll wait outside."

Damian walked back out onto the balcony, leaving me in peace to change. I dressed in black jeans and the hoodie, with a pair of soft leather boots and some black gloves Damian found. Then I went to put on the mask. But as my hand reached for it, I hesitated.

"Do I have to wear this?"

"Yes," Damian called from the balcony. "Keeping your identity safe is mandatory. Put it on, and let's go."

I took a deep breath and placed the mask over my eyes. To my surprise, it fit perfectly, as if it were made for me. I had always wondered how it stayed in place; I would have to wonder on, because what was stopping this thing from falling right off was way beyond me. It didn't feel like adhesive, and it didn't have any kind of strap. It was like putting on another layer of skin.

I took a moment to glance in the bathroom mirror. The dark caverns of the mask cast deep shadows over my eyes, so the brown looked more like black. My cheekbones looked sharper, and my brows were hidden behind a permanent scowl. I looked angry and fierce.

"This is so strange."

"Are you ready?"

I shook myself. "Yes."

I walked out to the beginnings of a sunset, a mask on my face and a plan in my head. I felt so… different. I wasn't myself anymore. I could do anything, and no one would know it was me. I didn't have to be sick or scared. I understood at last why Batman didn't need superpowers: the mask was a superpower all on its own.

Samantha was a thing of the past. What I was now, I didn't know; but I liked it.

"Lead the way, Robin."

/

Robin had to carry me as he swung from the rooftops. I had imagined swinging around Gotham would be a little more… well, romantic. This was just awkward, and Damian didn't mind complaining about my lack of ability. But no matter how uncomfortable it was to cling to a thirteen-year-old's bony shoulders for dear life, taking that first dive off the top of a building and feeling the tug of the line as we arced toward the sky was still exhilarating. And once I'd gotten a little more used to the sudden plunge, I started to enjoy the sting of the wind that whipped my hair around my face, the feeling of slicing through the air feet first.

We arrived at our destination right on schedule. It was the first time I had been in Gotham since I got to Wayne Manor, and it felt like a completely different place. The setting sun threw long, deep shadows over the city, broken only by bright, glinting glares off high windows. The heart of the city had already begun to beat faster, people turning on lights and turning up late evening music, as we snuck out of an alleyway and up to the door of our first stop.

Robin picked the lock, slipped through the door, and disabled security in a matter of seconds. As he let me in, I whispered, "I have to learn how to do all this stuff for myself."

"I'd be willing to teach you. Of course, my father and Alfred have both banned me from doing exactly that, so it would have to be a secret."

"Fine by me. What now?"

"The cabinets can be opened now. Since we have to be quick, I'll do all the lockpicking. You can carry the bag."

I frowned as he tossed me a burlap sack. "That's why you brought me. I'm the pack horse."

"Sidekick, if that would make you feel better."

I let the matter go. Damian was just that kind of kid you didn't argue with unless you wanted to carry the same conversation for hours. I held open the bag as Robin carefully collected the pins and dumped them in.

"Just before we finish this," I said, "are you absolutely, one-hundred percent certain this is the right thing to do?"

"I'm certain. If you need reassurance, as soon as the trap is sprung, and we have Oddjob, we'll give everything back. In that sense, we're not even stealing; we're borrowing."

"What if Oddjob gets past us? What if he manages to get this stuff even with us guarding it?"

"He won't. Now be silent and hold the bag."

"Yes, sir."

We finished in silence, then slipped back outside, reactivated security, and locked the door. This same process took us through the remaining five stores in a matter of minutes, thanks to Robin's ability to hook-and-line through the city at lightning speed, even with me on his back. He really is an amazing kid. Scary, but amazing.

We arrived at the docks at around nine o'clock at night, when the sun had fully set. We dropped down between a couple of crates to wait for our prey.

"Do you think he'll show up?" I asked, shifting the heavy sack off my shoulder. "Would he even know we brought these here?"

"Your plan," Robin said, peering around the corner of the crate. "You tell me."

I thought. "If he's capable of telling which stores have these specific items in stock, he must have some way of doing that… which means he can probably tell that we've removed all of them. He would probably also be aware of the shipment coming in, since it's carrying what he's looking for. And if he can put two and two together, he'll be able to figure out where we've taken it."

"Elementary logic."

"Only," I continued, frowning, "if he knows we moved them, he would know this is a trap."

"He's a thrill criminal; he steals to show off. If he underestimates me, like most criminals do, he'll assume tonight will be an easy win and walk right in."

"Still," I said, holding out the sack full of charms. "You should find a good hiding place for this. We don't want him to get his hands on it."

Damian ignored me. "We'll wait here until the ship docks; I'll keep a lookout for Oddjob. We see him, we catch him, we bring him in; you get to brag in front of my father and Alfred, and nobody worries about you being part of the team ever again."

"And then of course you'll put in that you actually did all the work…"

"Tt. No, I won't. This is your mission."

I glanced at him. "You're not getting anything out of this? If it doesn't benefit you, why did you come?"

"Because nobody else was going to help you." He was quiet for a moment. "And… I suppose I can relate to you on a certain level. I wasn't always very welcome on the team. I understand the need to prove yourself." Robin cleared his throat. "Plus, once this is over, maybe Pennyworth will be able to get his head on straight again. He's been an absolute wreck since you came."

"Hey, be nice; he's my uncle." I glanced up at the sliver of sky overhead. "Are you sure we can convince him that this was a good idea?"

"You could convince him of anything. You are a girl, after all, and everybody likes girls who have pleasing features and a fair disposition."

"It won't be fair much longer if you keep-"

"Hush. I can hear someone coming."

We sank down against the side of the crate. "Do you think Oddjob found us already?" I whispered.

"Not likely. No one can track me."

"Then who's…"

"FREEZE."

I jumped out of my skin at the loud blast from the megaphone. In an instant, either side of the alley between the crates was closed off by a police car, with lights flashing and sirens wailing.

"Follow me," Damian hissed in my ear.

"What?" I looked around. "Where…?"

He was gone. Where did he even…? My heart sank. He'd left me alone with a bag full of stolen goods, and there were cop cars and policemen blocking every exit.

Great. I always wanted to get arrested.

A man stepped out of one of the cars and started walking toward me. "Hands where I can see 'em!" he yelled, aiming a gun at my head.

My heart was racing, and my head was churning so fast that I only got two reasonable thoughts out of it. I am in so much trouble; I can't let this be traced back to the others. I ripped off the mask and stuffed it up my shirt, where hopefully they wouldn't find it before I could move it to a more secure location. As soon as I did, I felt vulnerable and scared. I couldn't hide anymore; whatever happened next would be my fault and mine alone.

The man walking toward me lowered his gun. "Great. Another kid. I'm guessing you're not trying to pay school bills."

Shoot. I knew him. The red hair, the mustache, the glasses, the trench coat-all the easily recognizable signs.

Commissioner Jim Gordon-a.k.a. no way Barbara doesn't hear about this.

Jim Gordon pointed to the sack with his gun. "What's in the bag?"

"Here," I said, tossing it to him. "Take them. I was going to give them back anyway; my partner was trying to set a trap for someone, but he promised he was going to return everything afterward. That is, before he ditched me."

Jim eyed me suspiciously. "You seem oddly calm for someone caught stealing from six different jewelry stores."

"Caught?" I cried. "Are you serious? I thought we turned off all the cameras!"

"You can't turn off human eyes," Jim said, opening the sack. "Huh. Batman pins. You know, it's funny-Bruce Wayne was in my office just this morning asking for an escort to move these exact pins to a secure location."

My mind was stuck on "caught." Damian had promised. He had given his word that we wouldn't get caught. And then we did get caught. And he bailed.

Jim got me on the ground and cuffed my hands. He gave me my rights and shoved me into a police car. I didn't hear any of it. Damian had abandoned me; all I could hear was the garbled rush of doubt through my mind.

Had he ever wanted me to succeed? Or did his betrayal run deeper than a broken promise?

We drove to the police station, where I was quizzed on what my name was and where I lived. I played dumb-told them I was called Sam, that I didn't know my address. Jim didn't seem to buy it, but for some reason, he left me alone. Then he led me down a long hallway of jail cells to the very last one, furthest from all the nuts in temporary housing.

"You might be here a while, Sam," Jim said. "Just don't do anything stupid, and you'll be fine. Get some sleep. I'll come see you in the morning."

I just nodded and curled up on the cot. I wanted to sleep. Maybe then, my brain and all its stupid doubts would shut up.

/

I did manage to get some sleep, though it was disturbed by dreams and the late-night activity of the precinct. I was relieved to wake up and see sunlight streaming through the barred windows. I was even happier when Jim Gordon showed up outside my cell, just like he said he would. At least someone could keep a promise.

"So, kid. Do you want to tell me anything?"

I sat on the cot and played with the fringed edges of my blanket. I had to fight the temptation to pull out the mask again and shove it on. Something about that anonymity felt so enticing. But it wouldn't do anything for me now.

I folded my hands in my lap and met Jim's eyes.

"I'm sorry I did it. It was foolish. I listened to my friend-my stupid, lying friend-when I knew in my gut I shouldn't. And if I've ever promised anything before, it's nothing compared to the promise I'm making now to never, ever listen to him again."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit of a hasty promise. Sure you can keep it?"

I bit my lip. Could I keep it? Damian had failed, and the space of speculation had helped me see why. You can't promise the future; you don't know what's in it.

"You're right," I sighed and hugged my knees to my chest. "Can I stay here? I can't do anything stupid in here."

"Unfortunately, that's not guaranteed, either."

We were silent for a while. Jim stayed where he was, arms across his chest, as if waiting for something from me. I finally got tired of the silence.

"You work with Batman?"

Jim's mustache twitched. "Unofficially."

"What is he like, when he's out here? Out on the streets, working a case. What's he like when he talks to you?"

Jim chuckled. "Uh, a pain. He asks complicated questions and only sticks around for half the answer. And never tells me what he's doing."

"But he trusts you. Right?"

"I don't know. I sure haven't trusted him all the time. I don't know what he thinks about me. Probably thinks I'm old. Foolish. Slow."

"That's not true." I looked up. "He should trust you. You've done more for this city than the mayor. You're like a plainclothes Batman yourself."

The glare on Jim's glasses hid his eyes. "You seem to know a lot about me."

I looked at my hands. "Just the usual lore."

Jim bowed his head. "Well… thanks. Not many people in Gotham would agree with you. Most of 'em think I'm not needed now that we've got a masked vigilante keeping us safe."

"We need cops, too. I mean, Batman didn't catch me, did he? You did."

"Yeah, I did. Speaking of which, I'd like to clear you out nice and quick, so I need some info."

"Yeah, anything."

"You have folks I could call?"

I heaved a sigh. "No."

Jim shook his head. "Too many orphans in this city."

"Tell me about it."

Jim smiled at me. "I like you, kid; you're something else." His eyes crinkled like Alfred's. "I bet I could work something out, once you're released. Maybe I can set you up with a family. A good family, away from Gotham."

"Thanks, but I don't want new parents. My old ones were just fine."

I fingered my locket. I had forgotten to take it off last night, and frankly, I hadn't noticed it. But now, I couldn't leave it alone. It was both a comfort and a torture. My parents would have been so mad at me.

"I get it," Jim said. "Who are you staying with, then?"

"Excuse me."

My head whipped around to see none other than Bruce Wayne walking toward my cell. His face was all sunshine and business as he held out his hand toward Jim and shook.

"Mr. Wayne," Jim said. "What brings you to the station?"

"Charity," Bruce said. "I'd like to sponsor a rehabilitation case. Give someone a second chance. You understand."

Jim looked at me, a twinkle in his eye. "I think I may have just the kid."

I met Bruce's eyes. I couldn't read them at all. Was he mad? Disappointed?

"Sam, I'd like you to meet Mr. Bruce Wayne," Jim said. "He's a good friend of mine. I think he can give you what you need."

Yeah, a good spanking.

/

Bruce paid the bail money and got me released. He stayed pleasant the whole time, shook hands with everyone, and exchanged small talk with Jim. I just stayed silent and kept my head down. Sooner or later, the dam would break, and I'd get the talking-to of a lifetime.

Twenty minutes later, Bruce and I climbed into one of his fancy sports cars and drove away from the police station. His face changed as soon as the tinted windows hid him from sight. The sunny smile vanished, to be replaced with a terrifyingly blank mask. I gulped and fixed my eyes on the floor.

"Bruce, I'm going to come right out and say that I'm sorry. That was probably about the dumbest thing I've ever done."

"Yes, it was."

I blushed and sank deeper into my seat. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help, and Damian said it was the only way."

"So it's Damian's fault?"

"No, no! My fault, all my fault. I was the one who thought up the plan to move the jewels to the docks, and I was the one who agreed to do it the wrong way. I let Damian take me with, I let myself be arrested. It was stupid, and I'll never do it again, I promise. And if you want me to leave, I will. I'll get a job somewhere else, and you never have to see me again-"

"Sam."

I snapped my mouth shut.

Bruce glanced over from the driver's seat and sighed. "I'm disappointed in you. I'm disappointed that you would agree to follow a half-formed plan, especially one that involved breaking the law."

"I'm really sorry," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut against a wave of tears.

"I'm disappointed. But I'm not kicking you out."

My eyes fluttered open.

"I probably couldn't kick you out if I tried. Alfred would quit. But more than that, after hearing Damian's side of the story, I think he's the real culprit here."

"Really?"

Bruce nodded. "My son… doesn't trust new people easily. And last night-I have from his own mouth-he was testing you."

I blinked at the road. "He was what?"

"He tested you. He… does that. You have to understand, this boy almost killed Tim the first time he met him, because he thought he had to establish dominance. On a different occasion, he fought both Jason and Tim to see if they were worthy of working alongside him. I'm at the point where I don't even know if he's still testing me."

"He got me arrested to see if I was worthy."

"Yes. So you can see why I put a lot of this on Damian. However, Damian aside, I do wish you had had a little more common sense."

"I know, and I swear, it's never going to happen again."

"I respect that. But can you tell me why it happened this time? Why you did it?"

I leaned my arm against the window and rested my head on my hand. "I wanted to help. I wanted to be part of the family, actively, the way everyone else is. But Alfred basically told me he thought I wasn't strong enough to do anything, and after you called, I thought you might think that I was… incapable. I wanted to prove that I could really do something. I wanted to prove that I'm not fragile."

"You're not fragile, Sam," Bruce said gently. "Alfred's just afraid of breaking you, which makes him see you as something to be handled with care-something to be protected. But you're not fragile. You're not very wise sometimes, but you're not fragile."

"Am I stupid? Was my plan bad?"

"No; it was a good plan. It was just poorly executed. And if I could have found a way to make it work, I would have."

I bowed my head. "So I'm not a bad helper?"

Bruce glanced my way. "Not a bad helper, no."

"Can I keep trying to help?"

"Do you understand how foolish you were?"

I stared out the window, my face burning. "Yes."

"And you understand that Damian's behavior isn't an excuse for your own?"

My throat felt tight as I tried to keep back tears. "Yes."

"Then I'll give you grace. I'll let you help, the right way."

"Thank you," I sighed. "I promise to do it right next time."

"I know you will."

We pulled into the garage and stopped the car. I quickly wiped the tears from my face. I didn't want to look like I was crying in front of the boys. I still couldn't believe I had cried in front of my boss.

Bruce paused, his door halfway open. "Sam."

"Hm?"

He hesitated. Then, without warning, he leaned across the seats and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I froze stiff.

Bruce Wayne was… hugging me.

After a moment, I relaxed. He didn't move. I waited another minute, then let myself reach up and return the hug. He stayed still.

"You're welcome here, Sam," Bruce said softly. "Don't be afraid of us."

We got out of the car and walked into the house. Alfred was waiting for us. He glanced at Bruce, as if for a signal. Bruce gave him a nod.

Alfred didn't smile. He didn't frown, either. He held out his arms, let me run to him, and held me close.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice muffled in Alfred's shirt.

Alfred's voice hummed in his chest.

"My dear Samantha. You are always forgiven."