A/N- It's a little later than normal, but it's uh...a lot longer than normal too. It's so long that it made a liar out of me. Damian hasn't made it in just yet. His mother sure did though. It's working that way, I swear. And yes! Drake will be present in the story, however, I'm taking some liberty with the time lines, so he'll be showing up after Damian.


In the years that followed, the naïve little thing that stole towels from the linen closet for makeshift capes began to realize that her hero was anything but invincible. Batman often came home beaten, battered and broken. This wasn't a game between good and evil. It was a war, a war that my father often chose to fight alone.

"I'll be eleven soon."

Dad looked up from his cut, but Alfred only held out his hand for the anesthetic that I was holding; he didn't even bother to look up. He knew. I think he was holding his breath.

"Eleven already?" Dad tilted his head back, staring at the bats as they conspired above our heads.

"Wasn't Dick Ten?"

"Del..."

"Dad." At that I had his eyes on me. Stern…and exhausted.

"We've discussed this."

"No. You told me. We didn't discuss anything." I snipped, aware that Alfred was bristling between us.

"Dick said-"

"I don't care what Dick said. I'm telling you no!"

I slid off the stool, letting it roll back under the table beside me. "You need help." I protested, taking advantage of the small silence that worked its way between us. Dad hung his head back, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"You're not ready."

"At this pace, I won't ever be."

"There you are, Sir."

At that Dad swung out of the chair. "Thank you, Alfred." When he finally faced me, I crossed my arms in front of me.

"This isn't some game, Delilah."

I then said something I know I shouldn't have. "When are you going to see that I'm not Jason?" It had been years since Jason's death, and yet for Dad it was still as raw as it was the day it happened. Batman never took on another Robin. It changed us. Dad always kept me close and somehow I always felt so far away.

"I made a promise to your mother, and I'm going to keep it!" He snapped, closing the distance between us. "The answer is no!"

"But-"

"You do have limitations; you're going to have to come to terms with them."

I was on the losing side of this from the minute it began. Most people who have the same heart defects as I do, tend to lead normal, healthy—active lives. But let's face it…for me normal went out the window. Dizzy spells, shortness of breath, high blood pressure, I've even fainted a time or two. But let's not take the chance of sudden heart attack off the table. I think those things were always circling Dad's mind.

"Says who?"

Dad paused, letting my short breathes fill our silence. Even amongst the bat chatter, they seemed so loud. "You're just afraid."

"Del, you can't even catch your breath right now." Damn it. My health always sought to make his point.

"I can control it!" I cried, forcing myself to take a deeper breath, but it was already too late.

"Not to break in, but I suspect the guests should be arriving shortly."

With that he pushed me to the stairs. "This discussion is over."

I never brought it up again.


My father did his damndest to shield me from the world. After all, his world was different than the one I knew with my mother. Once I waded into it, there would be no going back to a normal life. When the tabloids began to leak pictures of me, Dad had no choice but to introduce me into society.

Blackmail. Publicity Stunt. Black Market Baby. Child of the street. Lovechild. Only the last one was close, but they surmised that my mother must have been a young socialite, who was too ashamed to admit she had been caught in the web of the billionaire playboy.

Most of the employees at Wayne Enterprises, assumed that Dad had simply adopted me, seeing as my mother worked so closely with him and there was nowhere else for me to go. After all, it wasn't the first time Wayne had opened his home to a wayward child. Everyone had their own conspiracy theories.

"What are you doing?"

Dad's whisper pulled me from my crouch. "Spying."

"Obviously." He murmured, looking down into the crowd that had gathered just beyond the reach of the stairs. It was a sea of elegant clothing, jewelry and cigars. At times the sound of their voices was broken by a vivacious laugh or smug chuckle.

I dug my fingers into the banister to keep myself from picking off the nail polish. Dad's eyes flicked to my hands.

"Nervous?" Of course he knew my tells. Batman noticed everything.

"Yeah…"

"Me too."

"Feeling rusty, huh?" Dad was spending so much time in the bat suit, a bowtie was starting to feel foreign to him. All I can say to that is, thank God for Alfred. When he offered a nod and his hand, I was relived. At least I wasn't in this alone…and neither was he.

"So what do we do?"

"Divide and conquer."

Dad patted my hand when I hesitated. "Just smile and kill them with kindness."

"Now you sound like Mom."

Dad's wide shoulders shrugged beneath his tux. "It works."

I remember wanting so badly to prove to the world that I existed, but at that moment, standing at the top of the stairs amongst a battle of camera flashes and the flood of questions, I suddenly wanted it all to go away. "Smile. It's okay."

Dad's whisper barley reached my ear over the din of chatter and clicking. I was holding his hand tighter and tighter with every step we took, but I did as he said and smiled. It's a strange thing, forcing yourself to smile when you're descending into chaos.

"Bruce! Who is this charming little creature you've been hiding?"

"Is she adopted?"

"Look at those eyes you, Dope."

"How old are you, Sweetheart?"

"Where's her mother?"

With all the small flashes, and the faces peering in, I didn't know where to look or what to do. But when Dad held his hand up, the waves of questions quieted, leaving camera clicks in their wake.

"One at a time please. You guys know how bad I am at remembering questions." And just like that Dad was falling right back into that person he had forgotten, he had the room chuckling at his expense. It was right where he wanted them.

"This is Delilah."

I waved, and let my hand fall to my side.

"She's ten."

"Ten and a half." I corrected him, taking the moment to look up at him.

"Excuse me, ten and a half."

"Someone's gotta keep you on your toes." The room was laughing again.

"Bruce! Why all the secrecy?" Dad looked at the reporter, his smile fell from his face. "We've been experiencing some health issues, so it was thought best to keep the excitement down to a minimum."

"This must put a damper on your usual activities."

I was ten, but I wasn't dumb. My dad was something of a playboy, or so he portrayed himself that way. When I fell into his life he finally had a decent excuse not to be plastered on Gotham Noir. Dad was more discreet with that part of his life than the public gave him credit for.

"It's a change, for the better I think."

"So serious! Who knew you had that kind of side. Looks like Gotham's most eligible bachelor is now a package deal."

I watched as a dark haired reporter bent down, letting her blue eyes meet mine. "So Miss Delilah. We know what your dad here does for fun, but what do you like to do?"

I felt Dad's eyes on me, his fingers squeezed gently around my hand. It's okay. I squeezed back. "I read quite a bit."

"Bookworm." Dad teased.

"Proud of it." I said giving him the elbow. "But I like playing the piano. And I have gymnastics classes on my good days."

The reporter smiled. "I saw a piano in here, do you think you could play something for us?" When Dad nodded to me, I let my fingers slide from his. "Sure." Slipping through the crowd of curious onlookers, I found Alfred at the piano; he had already pulled the bench back for me.

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore that so many people were watching me. It occurred to me then, that this would be normal for the daughter of Bruce Wayne.

"I hope no one will mind if I play something a bit more modern than classical music."

I closed my eyes and set my fingers on the keys, glad they felt familiar to the pads of my fingertips. And so I played, letting the notes out gently as I kept time in my head.

I had never sung in front of anyone, except Alfred. But once the words from a favorite song began to tumble out, there was no turning back, despite how vulnerable I felt. But sitting there, gently swaying into the rhythm as I played, I realized how singing about a human- one who bleeds when they fall but can still manage to hold the weight of the world – it made me think of Dad. I carried my crescendos, stayed on key and kept my time. When the last note faded from the room, it erupted. As I stood to take my bow, shooting my stunned father the biggest grin I could muster.

As I made my way from the piano, I nodded and accepted the praise as graciously as I could, trying not to flinch when random people would pat me on the back or squeeze my shoulder.

"First birds. Now you sing. Pipsqueak, I think you're turning into Snow White."

Jason. I froze, when I turned, there wasn't a familiar face around. But there in the distance a dark haired head seemed to be moving through the crowd. When Dad touched my shoulder, I know I jumped and he definitely felt it. "What's wrong?" He whispered. I tried to smile, tried to pretend that he was whispering something encouraging.

"A little overwhelmed."

"Step into the parlor, and take a second." With that he pressed his lips to my temple and worked his way back into the throng. I made my way to the parlor in a bit of a haze. Only four other people knew about the robin. Dad. Alfred. Jason. Dick. Dick was out on patrol and Jason was dead… right? I watched them lower the casket into the ground myself. Or Dick was here somewhere and he was screwing with me.

I slid into darkness of the parlor, and leaned myself against the first available wall I could claim. For a moment I just closed my eyes and listened to the voices carry throughout the house.

"Chaos out there isn't it?"

I almost mistook the woman for my mother. Her hair was a dark auburn like my mother's. In the faint light that made it through the window I could tell her eyes were green too. But the voice was wrong and so was the shape of her body.

"You are Delilah." She said, bring herself to stand, letting her long elegant gown fall gently as she rose.

"Delilah means delicate. Weak."

I opened my mouth to protest, but she tilted her head at me. "But strange enough for you, variants of your name also means night. In some languages your name would fit a femme fatale." Her smile spread across her face. But it wasn't the kind of smile that made me feel comfortable.

"I believe your mother picked your name very well. She must have known your father's secret."

I didn't balk, even though I wanted to. I simply raised my chin at her.

"You know an awful lot about my name, but you never told me yours." My words came out evenly to my relief. But the nameless woman laughed at me. It was deep melodic kind of sound. "A bold little flower, aren't you?"

"I am Talia." She said, moving too far into my personal space.

I felt her fingernails dig into my chin, when she lifted it. "You have my Beloved's eyes."

I moved to smack her hand away, but she dropped it faster than I could move. "The rumors are true I see." With that she turned away from me.

"In that case, I have left you a gift. Perhaps one day you will be able to use it." At that moment I wasn't processing her words; I was too busy thinking about how I would exit the room.

"Delilah and Damian. A pity I never met your mother." She said, looking down at her nails, but her eyes fell back to me.

"But for you, perhaps that was for the best. Do tell my Beloved that I said hello." I turned to hear the door opening, thankful that the light was spilling across the darkness.

"You alright?"

Dad. I turned back, and there was nothing, just an open window. I took another breath and nodded. "Yeah, just trying to get some air."

When the house finally quieted, Dad eased himself on the steps beside me. "Well, we survived."

I was pulling the pearls out of my hair. "Dad…who is Talia?" I looked down at the pearl pile I had made and when I looked up, Dad had his 'Bat face' going.

"Where did you hear that name?" he asked. I was pulling the last pearl from my hair, when he grabbed my arm. "Delilah. Where?"

"Here. She was here. When I went to the parlor, she was there."

"What did she say to you?"

I shrugged. "She talked about the meaning of my name, and that Mom must have known your secret." Dad was rubbing his face with his hands. "And tell my Beloved I said hello" I mimicked.

"I wanted to heave on her overpriced shoes."

"She's over the top." He muttered.

"Old fling gone wrong?" I asked

"You could say that."

"Dad. You need to start teaching me something."

"Del…not again. Not tonight."

I shook my head. "No. It's not about that. She got too close to me. I don't want anyone getting that close to me again."

At this Dad just looked at me, for a long moment he didn't say anything, he just slid his arm around me.

"Now that we can work on."

I didn't tell him about the sword I found on my bed, nor did I tell him about my Jason encounter. I just didn't know how. Instead I had him explain to me just who Talia was.


Like most mornings, Del was up before the light began to break. The asphalt was waiting in its usual place, stretched out and winding way through the large homes that dotted the coastal road. It was just a simple 3 mile round trip run. It was the kind of morning that made the breath leave the body in wispy clouds, but Del was damp with sweat. Beside her, Jax, the Doberman panted, his tags jingling together as he loped. For once it was quiet. There hadn't been a single reporter or squirrel all morning.

Dick was sprawled on the porch steps as Delilah began to walk the driveway. She let Jax go, who promptly went to stick a cold nose in his face. "Zesti cola? Can't you drink coffee or tea like normal people?" As soon as he had Jax in a whimpering pile of 'pet me' he looked up.

"What's this normal you speak of?" He asked, rubbing dog's belly as he rose from the stairs. But Dick's lopsided smile faltered, as Del, bent down and put her hands on her knees.

"Feeling dizzy?" When she nodded, he gave her an arm to steady herself on. "Pushed yourself a little too hard this morning, huh?"

When the world was still again, she let him go. "It's no big deal."

"Right…"

"It's already gone." She insisted, popping up the stairs, Jax immediately in her wake. "So you're coming to the next meet, right?"

"Only if the hot moms are there."

"You're so gross."

Delilah wasn't sure what she would do without Dick. He was her bit of normal in a not-so-normal life. When she was six, he got her started in gymnastics, sneaking her to classes himself. Though it wouldn't be stretching to the truth to say he liked the attention he got. After all, he was the only young man sitting in the parents section.

When she needed someone to talk to when her dad was being a royal jerk, she went to Dick. When she just needed to sit around and eat Chinese and watch terrible movies…Dick was the guy.

"So…"

"I hate it when you start out your sentences like that."

"Why?"

"Because it means you have a really stupid idea, and you're going to try palm it off on me." He held up his hand as they crossed into the foyer. "But go ahead."

"Apparently, you can get your motorcycle license at fourteen." Delilah started, her lips breaking into a smile when he began to catch on to her master plan.

"Oh no."

"I've never ridden one."

"No, no. I know where this is going. No. No way."

Del cut in front of him, keeping herself moving backwards so he wouldn't plow her over to get away.

"Oh, come on. What about a dirt bike? Just a little 125? That's harmless."

"If I teach you how to ride something that leads to you having the ability to take off on one of your dad's motorcycles…he would kill me." Of course he would know about stealing Bruce's motorcycles. He did it himself how many times?

"Who else am I going to ask? You're the closest thing to a brother that I've got." Del made her best 'I'm begging you' face.

"Don't make that face."

"C'mon. Please? Please? Please?"

Dick's shoulders slumped. "You are nothing but trouble." He grumbled.

Delilah took that as a yes, and skipped the rest of the way into the kitchen.

"Morning, Alfred." The old man, pushed her pills toward her. "Good Morning, Miss Wayne, Master Dick."

Delilah made short work of the pills. "Something smells good." But of course, bacon always did. Working her way into the kitchen, she found the tea pot. "You'll drink some tea with me won't you?" She asked, rifling through the cabinet for the tea canister, then a cup.

"Of course, that would be lovely."

"Where's Dad?"

"Still getting dressed."

Dick found the remote to the TV in the kitchen and plopped himself in a chair.

"The bizarre deaths that were once alleged to be linked to Zesti Cola, have begun to resurface. It's been eleven years since the company faced this kind of scrutiny."

The cup in Delilah's hands fell to the ground, scattering shards of porcelain across the kitchen floor. Her eyes didn't leave the TV.

"DAD!"

Delilah quickly turned snatching the bottle of cola from Dick. His lips were still opening and closing like a fish in shock when Bruce wandered into the kitchen, his tie still hanging limp around his neck. "What?"

Delilah pointed at the TV as she rinsed the sink

"That was a perfectly good bottle, you crazy person."

"Dick. Do yourself a favor; don't drink Zesti Cola for a while."

"It's happening again…" Delilah shook her head, bending down to help Alfred clean up the broken cup. "Alfred, I'm sorry I-"

"It's quite all right. Finish getting ready for school, breakfast will be ready when you're done."

Dick turned the TV off and shook his head. "Care to explain?" he asked, when Del finally vacated the room. Bruce remembered his tie and set about making it right. "Paige had spotted something strange going on with our Santa Prisca accounts."

"Santa Prisca? Isn't that where Zesti Cola originates?"

"Zesti Cola is made there, and sent here to be bottled." Bruce amended. "Paige bled out like all of the other cases that allege Zesti Cola was the cause."

"Wasn't she shot to death?"

The man paused, closed his eyes and took a breath. "I think they shot her just to torture her." He shook his head. "It's not what killed her."

"A senseless thing." Alfred said, taking the teapot off the burner as it screeched. "Miss Larson was a good woman."

"Yes, yes she was." Bruce turned to leave the kitchen. "I'm going to check on Del, and then I'm off. I'm sure the office will be a mess." Spying a plate on the counter, he snagged the bacon.

"It always is on a Monday, Sir."

Dick leaned on his elbows, when he was sure Bruce was out of ear shot, he spoke.

"He really liked her didn't he?"

Alfred scoffed. "I dare say Master Bruce was in love with her. I'm afraid he didn't realize how much he cared for her until she was gone."

"Dad. Don't forget I have talent show tryouts tonight." Bruce paused on the stairs. "And how late will that be?"

"Should be done by 8 p.m. I'll keep Alfred posted."

Bruce nodded. "Good luck." He called, trying to make his way out the door before anything else popped up. "No stops. Come straight home." His day was going to be full, and now, so was his evening.

Del plopped herself into the chair next to Dick, happy to see a plate full of food, and a fresh cup of tea.

"What's this business about a talent show?"

"School thing. I'm only doing it because Sam asked me to."

"Sam? Who's this Sam? When do we meet him?"

"Sam is a girl, you dork. She's a friend from school."

Delilah looked down at her plate and frowned.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Batman stole my bacon again."


Delilah learned quickly that with a last name like hers, people were often intimidated. That didn't exclude her classmates. Sam all but spilled into her life. It was a simple mishap that ignited a friendship, and all it took was for Del to stop, bend down and help pick up the girl's books.

"Someone is going to trip on that." Delilah muttered, eyeing a piece that had fallen off of someone's prop. Beside her, Sam's number wrinkled as she moved. "Are smoke bombs too much?"

Del raised an eyebrow as she looked to the girl. "Smoke bombs? You are going all out for this aren't you?"

Sam's dark eyes seemed to twinkle, and it sure as hell wasn't in a good way. "All an illusionist does is put on a good show."

Sam was good with her illusions. But Sam had a mischievous streak a mile wide. It's wasn't something people would expect from the quiet, shy, brainy, Samantha Cleary. But they also didn't know that she had the kind of mouth could make a sailor blush. Her filter just operated a lot better than Delilah's.

"Are you just after setting off the fire alarms?"

The girl snorted. "Maybe."

"You make your own smoke bombs?" Del asked, resting her head against the wall.

"Yeah, why?"

"Think you could make me a batch?" Sure, Del could lift a few from her Dad, but he noticed everything. He'd definitely notice if some of his own stock was missing. Sam's face lit up. "Just what are you plotting?"

At that moment Pike Pitman, the captain of the lacrosse team stumbled. Unable to catch himself in time, he met the floor face first.

"Told you someone would trip on that."

Red faced, he righted himself, his eyes landing directly on them. "You put this here?"

"Why would I do that?" Delilah asked, crossing her arms in front of her as she slid all the way to the floor. She watched as the principal popped her head out of the office. "Mr. Pitman, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, I think Wayne and Cleary are leaving things in the hall though." He said, dabbing the blood off his face. Hmm. He did nail the floor pretty hard. Mrs. Bruner's eyes fell on the girls.

"Now why would I do that? I don't even have props."

"You just want to make me look stupid." He sneered. "Besides, Cleary has props. "

Delilah smirked. "Pitman, you don't need my help to look stupid. I think you've got it handled."

"Miss Wayne!"

Delilah covered her mouth. "Sorry, Mrs. Bruner."

"Miss Cleary, please go put your props in your home room until your number is called."

Del worked to her feet, helping Sam gather her things.

"See you losers later." Pike quipped, as soon as Bruner went back in her office.

"We're not the ones who met the floor with our faces."

Delilah never looked back. She simply held her hand up for a high-five.

"He's still pissed off that you turned him down for the formal." Sam noted, squeezing her way into the empty classroom.

"Ya think? It wasn't my fault that he asked me in front of the entire school."

"Wayne-Badger don't care. Wayne-Badger don't give a shit."

Sam always made hard not to laugh.


For a while Del listened to the numbers as they were called, watching kids slip into the gym.

"Only three to go." Sam cheered.

"Lucky you. I'm near the bottom of the list." In other words, she was going to be here a while. Sam worked herself away from the wall. "Be right back. Gotta get my stuff." But when Sam returned, her face was pale, and her hands were empty.

"Number 46!"

Delilah made her way to her instantly. "So the loser, apparently got a hold of my props." She grumbled.

"Can you fix them?"

"Yeah but I don't have enough time."

The girl sighed when Delilah began to unclasp her number from her leotard. "What are you doing?"

"Buying you time. I'm near the bottom of the list remember? Give me your number."

"You sure?" Sam's fingers hesitated, but Del was already shoving her number at her.

"No sweat. I'm just doing a little floor routine."

"47"

Samantha's face relaxed, allowing a little color to creep back in. Relief. "You are awesome."

"No. I'm just a nerd. And we nerds need to stick together." She said, unsnapping her track pants, and trying to step out of her sneakers all at once. She piled them against the wall with Sam's things.

"Number 48 is a scratch. Number 49!"

"Go get 'em Wayne-Badger."


By the time Alfred arrived, the hall was dim. The throngs of kids that milled about before had dropped to a mere handful. Delilah was sitting with her legs crossed on the floor, next to a couple backpacks.

"Have I missed it?" Alfred asked, settling along the wall beside her.

"Yeah. Sorry Alfred. I ended up swapping numbers with Sam. Some idiot broke her props just before her act. We swapped numbers so she had time to fix them. I did my routine early. So Sam is in there now."

"Master Bruce would be glad for you if you made it. But I'm sure he'd be proud of what you've done. I know I am."

Delilah opened her mouth just as a scream cut through the quiet hall. Smoke began to billow from under the double doors sending the fire alarm in a whaling panic. Delilah shook her head. "She set off the fire alarm. I knew that's what she was after."

But as the door opened and Samantha's body wobbled from the plume, the knowing smile on Delilah's face fell. The hall was filled with screams as Delilah jumped to her feet. "Something-Somethings.." Blood. It was running from Samantha's eyes and with every sound she tried to make, more would just seep from her mouth.

"Sam!"

Alfred, kept the girl from collapsing to the floor while Delilah called 911.

I gave her my number. They thought she was me. The though brought Del to her knees.