A/N: Damian finally made it in, I'm just going to admit that it's not much, but it does place him in the same house as his sister. Everything has it's own layer and time. As for how old the characters are, Dick is 29. Del is currently 15. (This changes as you've noticed.) In my head Damian is 10. Tim is 15. And Jason...is tricky. He was 14 when he died. (I know, much older in the comics. Again, liberties.) And roughly about 25 when he returns but the lazurus pit has made him physically and yes mentally younger.
As for Damian and Delilah, I think you'll get a feel for how they regard each other in the next chapter for sure.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
An opaque reflection of myself stared back at me from the window, a face I wasn't sure I recognized. It certainly didn't feel like me. My hand reached up and gently touched the pearls around my neck. She did the same, her terrified face looking back at me wordlessly.
Just outside the car, journalists grouped in droves, tagging the car with their cameras and questions. From here their words were garbled. They were only out for a good story. What did they care? I felt Dad's hand touch mine, forcing me to finally break away from the chaos just outside.
"I have to." The words left me so even, so determined that I was almost afraid that I wasn't the one that said them. I looked up, feeling something inside me shudder as we passed through the gates of Arkham Asylum. The closer we got, the larger the eerie gray building became, blending into the fog that rolled off the water from the bay.
"Is the car shaking?"
"No, Sweetheart, it's you."
Ten years before that moment, two men ripped my mother from my life without remorse or explanation. And now one of them was up for parole. Nick St. James. Until this point I never really put the name with the face that tortured my thoughts. I just knew he was the man who shot my mother. Whoever he was connected with had enough cash to keep him from going to a prison. He was sent to Arkham for his so called "mental illness." A mental illness he has come to control. I called bullshit. I was definitely going to call his bluff that day.
I didn't answer. Dad's mouth was moving, but I was shoving the door of the car open and sliding out of the car before I could let him finish. If I didn't force myself out of the car right then and there, I might never have found the strength. I had to do this. My heels sank into the spongy earth, bringing a curse to my mouth, but I bit my lip to keep it from sliding out. The mob swarmed.
"Do you think St. James could be paroled?"
"Not if I have any say in it." The words were coming out all on their own. I could hear Dad sliding out of the car. Knowing he was right behind me, I marched up the stairs, splitting the paparazzi in two, trying to pay no mind to the flicker of flash bulbs.
The lobby was empty, and as sterile as a hospital. Of course most hospitals didn't come with large glass partitions, heavy bolted doors, or guards who could have passed as S.W.A.T. My eyes immediately fell to a group in suits, including a face I knew. Lois Lane smiled at me from the corner of her mouth.
"You grip that folder any tighter, you might rip it in half." She whispered, bringing my eyes down to my white knuckles. "Mind if I ask what that is?" I know this was Dad's way of controlling how the media was going to spin this. "You'll see." My words were soft, barely audible. It was nothing I would ever want to see printed. I wasn't about to let her touch it.
"This way, Miss Wayne." I followed the gentlemen through the iron doors, trying not to let the buzzing sound it made ring in my ears. "I'm sorry but with the renovations, We'll have to cut through the medical ward." When I simply stared at Jerimiah Arkham, he continued. "We'll have an escort of course. Not to worry, the ward is set up differently than you might think."
"What are the renovations for?" Dad would want to be updating his schematics for the place of course. Arkham's eyes widened ever so slightly before he pushed his round rim glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "We're running out of room." He said simply, turning away to lead us to more heavy doors. "With the Batman bringing so many people in… We have to add more room to shelter the patients while we rehabilitate them."
"So you want to release them?" I asked, stepping through the threshold, not even giving the medical staff a second glance. My eyes were too busy scanning the long corridor of cells. Cells that were anything but unoccupied. I kept my eyes on Dr. Arkham's back, trying my damndest to ignore the noise. If it wasn't screaming that curdled my blood, it was the cat calls.
Jerimiah peered behind his shoulder at me. "Only some of them." He amended. I felt my skin crawl as a maniacal laugh pierced the din of the noise. Dad didn't even falter. "Like St. James?"
I felt my father flick me on the shoulder. A subtle reminder to watch what I said, but Dr. Arkham sighed, as he lead us into the next lobby, freeing us of the noise. "In my opinion, he doesn't belong here."
"He doesn't belong out there either." His lips tightened, but he said nothing as he paused a set of oak doors. "That, Miss Wayne, is not for either of us to decide." He said at last, opening the doors for me.
"Do you want me to go with you?"
A part of me wanted to say yes. But somehow my head was shaking. "No." I answered. "He can't get to me now." Dad's hand was warm on my cheek, his mouth opened, but then whatever words he had planned, never came out. He just nodded. "I'll be right here, then." He managed.
My heels we're loud on the hardwood floor. The three individuals at the table, all looked at me. St. James didn't budge, he didn't even turn to look at me I just stared at his back.
"Miss Wayne, you have something to say?"
His spine went rigid. The chains rattled and scuffed on the floor as he turned to look at me. My breath caught in my lungs. Age had not been too kind, it had left deep grooves in his face. In the last 10 years his blond hair had dulled. I reminded myself that I was the one who gave him the reason to wear that eye patch.
"I'm so sorry, Delilah. Please forgive me."
"I'm not Jesus; I don't have to forgive you." The words flew out of my mouth as I circled around to face him. "And don't call me by name, like you know me." The adults in the room seemed a tad surprised. But to be honest, I was a little surprised by it too.
"You're right. You're right. I've wronged you, I know. But I'm a changed man! I don't hear the voices anymore."
He looked up at me, pleading. "We've hurt one another, the cycle has to stop somewhere." He added, lifting his hands to remove the eye patch, revealing the scared lump of flesh where his eye had once been. I don't think I even flinched.
"Wronged me…you've wronged me…." I opened the folder, sliding one photo at a time onto the table in front of him. I didn't want to look down; I didn't want to see my mother bleeding out on the living room floor. I saw that enough when I slept. "Wronged me? You ripped my world apart!" Dad always said, think like the enemy. I knew one thing. The man in front of me was a sadist. His eyes flickered down at the photos.
"You look so much like her." I felt something inside me squirm when the corner of his mouth up turned and he picked up one of the pictures.
"Tell me, Nick, what are you really sorry for?"
He set the photo down and looked at me. "I took your mother from you."
I started to take the photos back up. "You're sorry that you took my mother from me." I could see Lois watching me as she leaned against the wall by the door. "But you're not sorry that you killed her." I amended, picking up the photos at a faster pace.
"No. Wait!" He grasped for the pictures but I yanked them away and took a step back.
"You enjoyed killing her, didn't you?" When he reached for me the guards moved closer. "Didn't you!?"
"Yes. Yes! You little bitch! Now give them back!" When he pushed the table over I jumped back, and was quickly pushed out of the way when guards went to restrain him. His body went slack as realization began to sink in. "You tricked me!" He screamed, pulling against the guards.
"Ever come at me again, I'll take the other eye." I whispered to him. "You took my mother from me. I'm going to take your freedom from you."
I caught Lois by the door, her eyes were wide as saucers. "I'll see you next time, Nick." He was still screaming when we left the room, leaving a horrified parole board on their feet. Dad furrowed his brow as I made my way to his side. Appearently the large doors didn't keep the noise from slipping out. "I don't think He'll be leaving here, Dr. Arkham." I felt Dad's arm around my shoulder, as he squeezed me to his side.
"You alright?"
"Yeah. I'm relieved."
Dr. Arkham simply sniffed. "This will be a major setback in his rehabilitation program."
"Some people, Doctor, you just can't rehabilitate. No matter how hard you try."
He had nothing to say to that, even as we began to trail back through the medical ward. Like before I kept my eyes on the good doctor's back, trying to pay no mind to the noise of the inmates.
"I remember those!"
I felt my fingers curl around the pearls on my neck, as I came eye to eye with the Joker himself. "Though the last time I saw them, they were bouncing up and down the sidewalk. Hmm..I think I liked them that red sort of color." I felt Dad stiffen. I on the other hand simply reacted. I suppose the hands of an adult wouldn't fit through the bars that separated us. The balled fist of a fourteen year old, however, is another matter. According to Dick, I had some bony knuckles. I would have to take his word for it, or otherwise ask the Joker. Dad didn't say two words. He just handed me a handkerchief so I could wipe the blood off my hand. "I could say the same about your face." That's for Dad. That's for Jason. He thought I was funny I suppose, since his laughter followed us the rest of the way through the ward.
"How did you get St. James to snap?" Dad asked me later. The pearls felt heavy and warm in my hands. "You always told me to think like the enemy." I said, laying them gently back in their box. I can't imagine what it must have been like for Dad to have to have to collect each pearl off the sidewalk.
When I looked up, I realized he was waiting on an explanation. "St. James is a sadist." I said softly, setting the box on his desk. "I knew that he'd..." My teeth dug into my lip as I tried to choose my words. "That if he saw the pictures of mom…" He'd enjoy it so much he wouldn't have wanted it to stop. Dad rose from his chair, when my eyes fell to my hands.
"I can't say I don't want that man to feel pain. I do. I want him to suffer the way he made her suffer. I want him to die slowly, and know that he's dying. I want him to know there's not a God Damn thing he can do about it!" Dad's arms felt like vice grips around me. I don't even remember him coming around the desk. I just knew he was there. "It makes me just like… him."
It would not the first time I would have to face Nick St. James, or even Gregory Gillespie, the second man in the equation. It was however the first time I began to realize what I was made of, and just what kind of things I had buried in the darkest parts of my soul.
"Alfred. Prepare a room. It looks like we have a guest."
"I can't at the moment, Sir. But I shall when I return to the manor."
The street lights washed over the windshield of the bat-mobile, filling the cabin with flickers of light to pierce the darkness. The boy in the passenger seat, had his head tilted, watching the buildings rise and fall.
"Alfred? Where are you?"
"On the way home from Gotham Memorial, Sir."
The kick of the booster's forced the dark haired child to look toward the Dark Knight. "In a hurry now, Father?"
"This is smaller than I imagined."
Bruce didn't stop to offer the boy a response, as he stalked for the foyer. "ALFRED!"
The gray haired Pennyworth paused on the stairs, taken aback by the black haired boy that followed in Bruce's trail.
"Where?" it was the only question he gave, pulling the cowl away from his face as he marched up the stairs.
"The usual place, Sir."
At that Bruce finally paused. "Alfred this is Damian." He said at last, sliding a glance at the boy, trying to ignore the droll look he wore. "Where are the rest of the servants?"
"He's it. And he's not a servant."
Damian just stared, as if the idea miffed him somehow. But as Alfred looked at the boy, all he could see was a young Bruce Wayne. "Alfred will show you to your room."
For a moment they stood on the stairs, watching as Bruce paused at a code locked door. Alfred finally cleared his throat and started in the other direction. "This way, Master Damian."
"Pennyworth, what's beyond there?"
Hearing his name fall out of the boy's mouth the butler bristled, but recovered himself. "I suppose you'll learn that soon enough, but not tonight."
He could hear the sound of gloves smacking against a heavy bag. The second he poked his head into her small gym, Jax lifted his head and grumbled a greeting. Del, didn't so much as look his way. She already knew he was there. Her leotard was covered with blood.
Delilah's eyes burned with the threat of tears, forcing the girl to choke the sob down as she swung at the bag, causing it's chain to rattle when it swung back from the force of her blow. Blood. It was all she could smell. Sam's blood. The bag wasn't swaying anymore. She went to swing, when her father caught her glove. "Delilah."
The girl's chest heaved, sweat was beading down her brow and yet, her pale blue eyes weren't even looking at him. She simply sank to the mat. "Tell me what happened." He told her, crouching down before her.
Jax crawled on his stomach, inching his way across the mats until his was pressed against the girl's side. "It's my fault Dad. It's my fault." She looked down at her leo and back at him, shaking her head. "It's not my blood." She croaked. "It's Sam's."
"It was just like Mom." The words left her louder than she anticipated, forcing the teenager to realize just how alarmed she really was. She mopped her face with her sleeve when he started to blur. He had no choice but to sit silently as she closed her eyes and stilled herself. No doubt counting to ten in her head. When she opened her eyes she forced herself to her feet. Once she ripped off her gloves, she immediately went for her backpack.
Bruce followed, looking over her shoulder as she began to scroll through pictures that she had taken with her phone. An arm with what appeared to be an injection site and a rancid looking rash. "They injected Sam with the same chemical that killed Mom." She said evenly, as she swiped through the catalog. "If it wasn't for Alfred…she would have died."
"And how do you know it's the same chemical?"
Delilah let him take the phone from her. "She came out of the gym bleeding from her eyes, ears, nose and mouth…she almost bled out right there in the hallway. I took those when I was allowed to see her."
Del went back to riffling through the bag, producing a small jar with a couple cotton swabs. "I swabbed the injection site, just before the paramedics arrived."
Bruce plucked the small jar from her hand, looking at it then back to her. "You did good, Delilah." But the girl shook her head. "No. I didn't do enough." She snapped, turning away from him. She wandered to the balance beam, digging her hands into it as if it would keep her rooted. "Her kidneys are trashed, and her liver…" Delilah shook her head. "She'll be on dialysis for the rest of her life if she doesn't find donors."
Watching his daughter hang her head, swallow her sobs and beat herself up, it was enough to make a father feel as if he had been kicked in the gut. She lifted her head when he finally approached, but her eyes were staring out the window. There was nothing but darkness on a calm sea. "It's my fault." She whispered. "I gave her my number, Dad. I had her number, she had mine. I was just trying to do the right thing." She continued her voice cracking. "She needed more time to work on her act. I was at the end of the list. We swapped." Her shoulders slumped forward. "She's the only friend I've got…and I almost got her killed."
"It's not something you caused, Del."
"But it was meant for me!" She cried. And if it had been her, he would have been arranging a funeral for his daughter. "I've been racking my brain trying to figure out why. I thought maybe it was something to do with St. James and Gillespie, but St. James doesn't come up for parole for another few years, and Gillespie is still working on his appeal. And neither one of them strikes me as big enough, or bright enough to cause something so…gruesome. Let alone orchestrate it from prison."
"Someone else's pawns."
She slammed her hands on the beam. "I want to know who, I want to know why, and I want it to stop."
"I'll scan this into the computer."
"I already did it. The test is still running it won't be done until tomorrow. I scanned the photos too. I even wrote comparison notes from all the cases. I'd still be down there…but I just can't look at the pictures anymore." She said softly. "There's something we're missing." Delilah hoisted herself onto the beam and sat, her hands idly in her lap. "It probably has something to do with Mom doesn't it?"
She felt something inside her fall, when her father nodded. "It's possible."
Delilah's brows furrowed. "She was pretty open with you wasn't she? I mean you were awfully open with her." She said gesturing to his suit. Her father's lips twitched into a smirk. "Actually…she figured that out on her own."
"How?"
"That's a story for later." He said. "Right now there's something else you need to know."
At this Delilah raised a brow. "Oh? Spill it, Bats."
"I ran into Talia tonight. She had a boy with her, claims he's my son."
Uh oh. Delilah put her face into her palm. "Not Talia."
"He's here, Del."
At that she peeked through her fingers at him. "You serious?" she grumbled. When he nodded, she rolled her eyes. "And what do you think?"
"I'm not sure what I think right now. It's possible, but it could also be a ploy."
"Sounds like something Talia would pull. Hide a kid from you. Or throw one in just to screw with your head - or both." Delilah shook her head. "Why do you always fall for devious bitches?"
"That I'm not discussing with you. And watch your mouth." With that he plopped a kiss on her forehead. "Sam is still alive, and she's safe. I'll have Dick keep an eye on her. We'll take another look at this tomorrow when the tests have finished."
"Yes, Sir."
She waited for him to make it to the door. "Dad?" Wayne paused. "Did you love her? My mother, I mean. Alfred seems to think you did."
Delilah watched her father's face soften. "Alfred's very intuitive." It was as close to a yes as she would get. Her parents were riddled with secrets it seemed. Some were small and innocent. Others, however, were just plain deadly.
