They're arguing again, Dad and Grandpa. They do that a lot, but this time it's really bad. They'd sent her to her room, not that that had really done any good, since they're shouting, and she has a glass pressed to the door, but they both sound angry.
"If you won't come back to the mansion, at least let Marty-"
"You Promised, you old bastard, you said you wouldn't take her away from me!"
"Jason I'm not taking her away from you! But you're running out of money, I know-"
"You don't know jack shit, old man! We're doing just fine on our own, I don't need your money."
"If not for you then for Marty. She's starting kindergarten soon, at least let me pay for that. A Wayne foundation scholarship if you don't want ties-"
"So now what? Public schools not good enough for your granddaughter? Huh? And you said it she's starting school soon, I'll have time to get back on the streets. Cash flow 'ill pick up real good then."
"Absolutely not I forbid it. You will not go back to killing people!"
"You forbid it, do you?" Marty's father laughs, it's not a nice sound, "Guess what old man, you don't get to forbid me to do anything. Don't you remember, I'm a criminal, a murderer, we all knew I was going to go back some day."
"If you do that, I'll hunt you down and put you right back in Arkham, and then what will happen to Marty? She'll be right back with me, or maybe I won't get to her in time, and she'll end up in the system. Is that how I get to find my granddaughter, the same way I found you?"
"YOU BASTARD-" there is a crashing sound, and then the sound of something breaking. Marty scurries back from the door, ducking under her bed. There is another crash, and Marty darts out a hand to grab her teddy bear, before ducking completely under the bed. Then all is silent.
With a cautious peak, Marty heads back to the door. Cautiously she unlocks it and peaks out. Just enough so that her eyes can peer through the slit.
Her Dad is on the floor, on his knees, his face away from her, but she can tell he's crying, his shoulders are shaking. She's never seen him cry before. Grandpa is on the floor too, at her Dad's back, pinning her Dad's arms to his sides, whispering in his ear so quiet she can't hear. One of the kitchen chairs is broken.
"Daddy?"
Grandpa steps back, dropping his arms from around her Dad, who throws his arms open for her. She practically shoots into them, and he wraps her up tight.
"Sorry, baby girl, sorry, sorry, we didn't mean to scare you." He's silent for a moment, just holding her. "Never ever meant to do that, meant to be better, sorry, sorry." He takes another shuddering deep breath. "I think you're going to need to stay with Grandpa Bruce for a while okay?"
"Jason-"
"What, why?" Marty protest.
Her Dad ignores her, face still buried in her fluffy hair, and speaks to her grandpa.
"I-, you were right Bruce. I am a murderer, a criminal. I don't, I can't do this to her. I never should have tried. I just keep hurting everyone."
"Jason, no, Jason look at me." She can feel her Grandpa sit down behind her, in front of her Dad, and her Dad look up at him, shifting his weight so she settles better in his lap. "You are a good Dad Jason. Better then I ever was, never doubt that, and I promised I would never take her away from you." A brush against her hair makes Marty realize her Grandpa has cupped her Dad's face in his hand. "If you won't let me pay for Marty's school then at least let me pay for yours. That's not charity, all right? All parents pay for their kids' school. At least let me support you while you do that. You were so smart Jay-lad; you loved school. Always brought home those A's, always telling me about this book and that. Please at least let me do that. College Jay, for Marty?" She's never heard her Grandpa plead before. It's almost as bad sounding as her Dad crying.
Her Dad nods, and she hears her Grandpa let out a breath.
"Sorry, Marty, sorry." Her Dad mutters again, "I always just get so angry. Never at you though Munchkin, never. Come on lets go pack a bag, we'll go stay at the manor tonight." And he shifts to his feet, tucking her against his chest.
They do go stay at the manor that night, and they just never seem to leave.
Marty gets used to it. It's nice having Alfred there in the mornings to wake her up, and not just on Christmas like usual. Grandpa always helps her read the newspaper in the mornings too. But its not their apartment, everything's all sparkly and shiny, and big, and Marty's not allowed to touch anything. She's also not allowed in the cave. Grandpa was happy to let her in; he'd even let her play on the huge computer before her Dad had come storming in yelling. Something about brainwashing, and get her killed even younger, and absolutely not, and now Marty wasn't allowed in. That's all right though. Marty doesn't particularly like bats and besides Damian's always down there too.
Marty hates Damian. Everything else at the manor is all right, except for Damian. Marty hates him with the passion of a thousand fiery suns. Uncle Dick had said that. Uncle Dick likes Damian, she really doesn't understand. Well technically Damian is her Uncle too, but she'd never call him that.
Damian is old, fifteen, he always likes to point out, ooooh, so old; and he always calls her brat, and he never lets her play with his dog, and his cat is mean. The cat bit her, so she bit back like Daddy always said to do during training, and then Damian had yelled at her.
Finally September comes around and then Marty has to go to school. Marty is not happy about this. Daddy's gone all the time now, and when he's home he's always studying. He was always around before to play with her, and now he's never here, ever. If she goes to school she'll never see him.
"But why do I have to go to school?" She whines at her Dad.
"How are you supposed to learn if you don't?"
"You and grandpa and Alfred could teach me. You already taught me all that science stuff, and how to read, and grandpa is teaching me all those martial arts, and Alfred is teaching me how to cook."
"She has a point, you know." Her grandpa comments from behind his newspaper at the other end of the table.
"NOT helping B. Then you have to go so you can make new friends." She opens her mouth, to protest that she has lots of friends, but her Dad cuts her off "Friends your own age, it's good for you socially."
"Then why doesn't Damian have to go?"
"She also has a point there." Her grandpa comments again, "Damian!" he reaches over and yanks the ear bud out of Damian's ear.
"What!" Damian snarls, yanking it back.
"You'll be starting school next week."
"What?!" Damian yells, jumping up from the table, "Father that's outrageous. I refuse to go sit all day with those pretensions saps, while I'm bored out of my mind. What could those plebeians they call teachers possibly have to teach me?"
"I didn't say you'd be going back to Gotham Academy." Damian just gaps at him. "As you so calmly elucidated there is very little Gotham Academy could teach you, and since Timothy deals with Wayne Enterprises networking is out of the question. Also after the last incident I highly doubt they'll take you back. As our little dove pointed out public school will teach you social skills."
"C'mon little D." Marty's Dad chortles "Think of it as under cover work."
"Stay out of this Todd, and you-" Damian rounds on Marty, "you little Brat, you started this. I'm going to-"
Alfred smooth as always picks that time to intervene.
"Perhaps, Master Damian, you could inquire as to which school your friend Mr. Wilkes, Colin was it? Attends, and enroll there.
That draws Damian up short.
"That would not be altogether unpleasant. In fact in terms of mission availability that would be most optimal."
"Then I will make arrangements tomorrow." Alfred nods, and that's the final word on the subject.
School's not so bad. Some of the kids are nice, and she likes the singing. Dad's pretty bad at singing. Except next month Damian comes to pick her up from school, and there's a red headed boy behind him, looking just as chipper as Damian looks sullen.
"What are you doing here?" She hisses at him from where she's getting her backpack from her cubby. He looks weird. He's wearing jeans, a beanie, and a t-shirt and leather jacket, which she knows he hates. He always dresses like Grandpa, all fancy, or in the super traditional Gis to practice, which even Grandpa doesn't wear. His weird red headed friend is dressed even sloppier, in beat up jeans, and a really old plaid hunting jacket. He's not wearing a hat, and his ears are all pink from the fall air.
"I'm here to pick you up Brat. Father requested it, since your Father has class, and Pennyworth's on holiday, or something."
"I'm not going home with you." Marty declares standing her ground.
"Then I'll leave you here. I have better things to do." Damian declares, but he doesn't back down either, widening his stance, and crossing his arms, and staring down at her.
"Damian, could we hurry it up? People are looking at us weird." The redheaded boy remarks, looking around nervously at glaring parents.
"Fine." Damian replies, and then reaches down and plucks her off the ground.
"Let go of me you meanie!" Marty yells, pounding on him with her fists, and going dead weight. She doesn't scratch him though, or go for the eyes or the groin, that's only for real fights.
"Put her down right now!" Uh-oh that's Mrs. Monroe, the teacher. She's nice, except when she's not.
"Damian!" The redheaded boy hisses. Damian drops her. She lands hard.
"I'm gonna tell Alfred!" Marty growls from the floor, until Mrs. Monroe grabs her, and shoves Marty behind her back.
"Who are you and what do you want with my student?"
Damian opens his mouth, but Colin steps on his foot, and pushes his way forward.
"Sorry Ma'am, but I think there's been a misunderstanding. Mr. Wayne says that Marty's Dad phoned the office and said one of her Uncle's would be picking her up today?"
"I got that note, you don't look like Uncles. You look like high school students."
"Well we are Ma'am. But we're Uncles too. Well I'm not, I'm just a friend who needed a ride home, but Damian is, an Uncle I mean. He's the youngest of five. Marty's Dad is one of his older brothers."
"I don't know what's going on here, but I'm calling security, and you're going to sit right there." She points to some of the ridiculously tiny chairs. "Until I can figure this out."
Half an hour later Marty's Dad comes storming in.
"Marty you're okay." He calls, swooping her up into a bear hug. "They called and said someone tried to kidnap you."
"Yeah Stupid-face."
"Stupid-face? Why would Damian try to-" Then he spots Damian, hunched over in one of the little chairs, and starts yelling at him in Arabic. It's a trick he discovered ages ago, Damian actually listens to what you say if you order him in Arabic.
"You! Damian what did you do, and what did you drag Colin into?"
"I didn't do anything Todd! You're stupid daughter refused to-"
"Shut up, Little-Demon. I was in a meeting with a Professor. We'll talk about this at home. When B said he'd send someone to pick Marty up I thought he meant Dick, not you. You don't even have your license yet, or a car seat." Then he turns to Mrs. Monroe and switches to English.
"I'm so sorry about this Mrs. Monroe. This has been a huge mix up. Damian is in fact my little brother, and totally authorized to pick Marty up. When my father said he'd send one of my brothers I assumed he'd be logical and pick one that my daughter actually likes, and has at least a modicum of social skills. Of course he didn't. I'd also like to thank you for taking our kidnapping warnings seriously. You did an excellent job."
"Not a problem Mr. Todd. I would have done it for any student, and to be fair none of you really look alike."
"Oh, both Marty and I are adopted, and Damian's mom was Middle Eastern. Easy mistake to make. Still thank you all the same." Then he turned back to Damian and Colin, speaking in English for Colin's benefit. "As for you two. Colin I am so sorry, we'll drive you straight home, and next time call me for a ride. Little-Demon, I hope Dad clips your wings for a month. Now march."
"I'm not a child Todd. You can't tell me-"
"March." This time Marty's Dad practically hisses it in Arabic, and they trail after him like ducklings.
Marty sticks her tongue out at Damian behind her Dad's back. He might be a little Demon but she's a little devil.
The war between Damian and Marty escalates all the way until Christmas, although they manage to keep it fairly silent and just between the two of them. Damian also picked her up from school several more times as well, although from then on he waited outside, by either the car or his motorcycle. Marty often marched by his lounging figure, head held high like a queen until he opened the car door like Alfred. She could see it make his fingers twitch like he wanted to strangle her. She liked Colin though, Colin was nice.
Their great war finally came to a head at Christmas. The manor was as usual, crowded. Which meant it was just starting to feel full, instead of cavernous. Uncle Dick, Auntie Barbie (only Marty and her Dad called her Barbie) and Uncle Tim were both home, and Auntie Cass was arriving tomorrow. Auntie Steph was celebrating with her Mom but she promised to stay for dinner at least one night, and Marty was going to meet Uncle Tim's girlfriend Tamara.
Everything was great except Damian wouldn't stop watching her. Marty hadn't meant to touch his stupid bow. If he didn't want her practicing with it, he shouldn't have left it in the upstairs gym. She'd show him. If he wouldn't stop looking at her suspiciously, she'd give him a reason so he wouldn't sleep with his eyes closed for a month after this.
It was all as carefully planned as a five year old could make it.
She gathered up every dull arrow she could find in the house and snuck some heat-activated glue from Uncle Tim's old bedroom. Then she carefully attached some of the glue and cat hair to the end of each arrow. If he liked his stupid cat so much he could just be one.
After Marty was finished she retreated to an alcove in the entrance hall and waited. She waited all day, no dice, so she climbed back up the next morning.
Finally her patience paid off. The doorbell rang and Damian came skidding forward to answer it, breezing past Alfred.
Just as Damian answered the door she took careful aim and fired.
"Death to Demons!" she shrieked only to have the arrows go whizzing by Damian and smack Auntie Cass, who had been on the other side of the door, in the face. Cass managed to avoid most of them, but at least two whacked her, the arrows sliding off, leaving behind two blobs of cat hair. One on Cass's face.
Marty was a smart girl; she knew the advantages of a tactical retreat. She took off running. Being a baby bat, even against the scariest bats of them all, it took them a good five minutes to catch her. In which case she was hauled up to her grandfather's office, Marty's dad was called from somewhere nebulous and possibly nefarious, probably the kitchen and they were all arranged in grandfather's study. Grandfather in his chair, with Marty's Dad behind it lounging in that specific way all Wayne men affected, Cass with a tight grip on Marty's shoulder and Damian glowering off to the side.
"Explain." Cass barked, scarier then she had any right to be with cat hair on her face.
"Father that little, that little Devil," Damian broke in, "has been trying to ambush me for days she-"
"Lying lying liar!" Marty shrieked. "You keep getting in my way, and moving all my stuff, and trying to push me off things, I'm only getting back, you stupid-face."
"Enough." Bruce spoke calmly but harshly. "Damian I thought you'd grown out of this. You are ten years her senior. Jason-" the tiniest bit of glee slid into his voice, he didn't have to deal with this one, "-she's your daughter, you decide. What is the solution to this problem?"
Jason peeled himself off the wall with a ripple, and moved forward to swing Marty up into his arms, where a smirk settled onto her face. Dad would get her out of this.
"I think," here Jason paused, before continuing slowly, "Alfred deserves a break. It's the holidays, he has all these Christmas parties to handle, including the one tomorrow night at the museum. I believe two extra helpers, it that's all right with you B, would be much appreciated, and we can just let him know to cancel the cleaning crew."
"What!" Two young voices shrieked in tandem.
"Father! This is ridiculous, Todd has no right to order me around, tell him-"
"Daddy! I didn't do nothing-"
Bruce spoke over the cacophony, "I think that is an excellent idea Jason."
The next day they're woken up bright and early by Alfred, Damian shoved into a servers uniform, and Marty into an old dress, and Damian is forced to carry a belligerent Marty to the car.
"Behave." Jason warns Marty with a stern look as she's carried out the front door. "Be good for Alfred or else." Marty releases a put upon sigh, and they head to the museum where things are already being unloaded from trucks.
Most of the morning is completely normal. Alfred puts Marty to work in a corner where she can't get into trouble, setting her repetitive mindless tasks that a five year old can do, folding place cards, sorting silverware, and the classic peeling of vegetables, which along with repetitions of katas and pushups all Wayne children have done as punishment at one point or another. Damian joins her for the peeling of vegetables but is other wise ordered into a coverall and made to lift heavy things at the point of Alfred's gloved hand. Dragging tables between sculptures, and setting up stands in front of paintings to display items for the silent auction later.
The afternoon is much of the same but slightly more torturous for Damian as various members of the Batfamily arrive and smirk as they watch him fold napkins and arrange flowers and look sympathetically at Marty. Sometimes Damian's reputation does him more harm then good, and Bruce quietly evaluates the fact that the rest of the family is all too ready to believe that his son would torture a five year old.
For the actual party they stay locked in a quiet room off the backstage catering area. With the complicated dance of service going on they've been ordered to stay out of the way. At nine, Marty who normally has an eight o'clock bedtime has curled up on a pile of tablecloths dozing, while Damian packs up dirty dishes to be shipped out by the catering company, all of whom have found it hilarious that the Wayne children have been ordered to help and were only too happy to boss them around all night.
That's when the shooting starts.
Marty lets out a tiny noise of surprise as she's pulled up into Damian's arms, but reflexes take over as she's launched toward an upper cabinet, tiny fingers grip quickly enough and she wiggles back as Damian follows, not a moment too soon as armed gunmen dressed in holiday masks sweep the room quickly.
"Is it the Joker?" She hisses at Damian as soon as they're gone.
"Ak-47's and Christmas masks at Christmas, it could be anyone. Stay there."
"But-"
"Now is not the time to argue with me Marty." It's a rare occurrence when Damian uses first names. "You have to promise to do everything I say."
"But-"
"Promise or I lock you in here."
"I promise."
"Good. I'll let you out as soon as I check the room. Everything I say. Understand?"
"Yes Damian." And then he's gone.
He comes back in a few minutes, the door of the cabinet swinging open, and Marty jumps down into his open arms and then onto the floor.
"What's the plan stan." Marty says, trying to imitate Auntie Steph's proud stance and cheerful sound. Damian looks a little disturbed.
"Do not ever say that to me again. Go sneak under the tables blow the fuse box and find cover. I will get father and the others out." He hands her a steak knife. "For trouble."
Marty nods solemnly and goes to do as asked.
Ducking low in the doorway, she slides into the kitchen, crawling behind the stainless steel tables, knife gripped tightly in her hand. With a quick burst she's from the kitchen into the main party area and under a tablecloth. The room she's in is empty at least; they've herded everyone into the room with the silent auction. She can hear shouting and bullets from there. Damian must be doing his job then. Shimmying along the ground she pops out completely on the other side of the room. With another quick dash she's under the temporary stage and has her fingers on the fuse box.
Everything goes dark, and Marty curls up and waits. Grandpa will be there soon.
Slowly the noises from the other room go quiet, and then loud when the sirens come, and then noisy but not really loud. Marty waits. Damian told her to find cover and she did, and now she will wait.
Then instead of the familiar pointed ears or red mask, Damian's unmasked face pokes under the awning.
"I found her!" he yells to someone behind him, and then reaches in and scopes her up.
Suddenly there are a million flashlights in her face and Marty ducks, burying her face in Damian's black button up, and now very rumpled polyester tie. The uniform of the kitchen staff. Earlier that evening he had tied the polyester tie like he was tying a dead rat's tail around his neck.
"Back off." Damian hisses at the police officers. Towing her through the crowd back towards the main room.
"You did well Habibi." Damian whispers in her hair. "Everyone is alright because of you. A credit to our house."
"Stupid-face." Marty sniffles, but hugs him tighter.
On Monday when Damian picks her up from school he isn't waiting by the car but by the school gate and when she appears he holds out a hand. Marty takes it, and they walk back to the car, Marty chattering about her day.