Real/Safe Deleted Scenes

Is It Necessary

A/n: Is this necessary? Maybe not, but then again what is this book for anyway? Also Damian is built to be a Girl-dad fight me-

Cora~

I peer into the room, hearing giggles and my husband's grumbling voice, always a troubling noise in this house.

Beyond the doorway I see Damian Wayne, one of the richest men in the world, a fierce protector of the innocent, in a sparkly pink tutu that is in his size.

"What are we playing guys?" I ask, a smile splitting my face so far my skin hurts.

Our daughter looks up at me with the brightest smile. I am thankful every day I see that adorable little smile.

"Look look!" Lillian points to an empty plastic chair that must have come from her art station, judging by the paint splatters. "We saved you a seat Mommy!"

I glance to Damian, who is sipping air out of a princess themed tea cup. He has a pleasant expression on his face, and I can't tell how much of it is actually for Lillian's sake.

"That's so nice of you Lily. I was just getting thirsty." I declare, sitting down happily. She squeals, clapping her hands and getting up so she can grab a plastic tiara from her shelf of costumes.

As she shoves it into my scalp I am suddenly also grateful I talked Dami out of buying the real metal ones. She's 3, she'd probably poke her eyes out as well as mine. However, the paint on this chair is the highest quality non-toxic paint money can buy.

"Here's some for youuu." Lillian stands on her tippy toes to pour imaginary tea into my cup. I take a very dramatic fake sip, smacking my lips for good measure.

"Deeeliscious Lady Lillian." I hum happily. She sighs, her whole body sagging with obvious disappointment and annoyance.

"Nuh uh mommy, it's princess Lillian." She insists. I make a very sorry face.

"I extend a million apologies, princess. I should mind my manners." I state, taking a sip of my 'tea' with a pinky out.

"That's better. Your applegees are accepted lady momma." She sniffs, nose up in the air. I cast a look to Damian at her attitude. He has pride shining in his eyes.

"A gracious host as always, Princess Lillian." Damian bows his head lightly. The previous head of the League of Assassins, a man born to be the perfect killing machine and nothing else, is playing Tea Party with his 3 year old daughter and having the time of his life.

Later, as we tuck her into bed after the nightly battle to get teeth brushed and pj's on, I see nothing but love in Damian's eyes. And I pretend not to see him blink harder when we close the door and say goodnight.

My legs are folded over his as we settle in for the night, a book in my hand and the news on the TV.

With the Joker out of the game for over a decade, Bruce decided that Gotham didn't need 'The Batman' any more. Nightwing, RedHood, Red Robin, Spoiler, Blackbat, and Oracle have the city running smoothly. New villains do pop up, every once in awhile, but many of the major players haven't been active in years.

Harvey and Ivy got married, and the Wayne Enterprises nature reserves bloomed with black and red roses for a whole year. The gardeners were very excited to see the strangely natural pigments.

Some of the rogue gallery got rehabilitated, and while they don't live completely ordinary lives, the post cards they send tell me they're living retirement happily.

Others simply retired. The vigilantes are a force to be reckoned with, and after Bruce retired, it wasn't the same. Their grudges never quite got settled but they certainly aren't as young as the people they were fighting. You can only break so many bones in your 50s before you decide to stop robbing banks I guess.

Without a mantle to take up, Damian has poured all of his focus into taking on the role of Father and Husband. Him and Lillian are thick as thieves most days.

We've talked a lot about the way we want to raise our daughter. How do you tell a person so young that the world is a scary place, and her family is full of people who put their lives on the line every night? So we've decided to wait. At least until she can pronounce 'vigilantism'.

I know in my bones, if Damian got the call that he needed to put on the cowl, he would be suited into kevlar within an hour and ready to raze a path back home even sooner. He never could quite relax that part of him.

Lillian loves learning from him. It's no manor but our house does have a gym for him to train in. And ever since she could crawl Damian has been in there with her.

He is teaching her balance, and proper centering right now. The right way to plant her feet so she can handle anything. It will be years before she's learning to fight, because we both know that a toddler who can throw a perfect punch is not going to make many friends in the sandbox.

I know Damian didn't learn the way he's teaching. I know he never had a childhood where he was treated gently. I watched him sit with hundreds of books and articles about gentle parenting, and he was so angry about so much of it.

Because it's so simple, so effective, and yet so utterly backwards to how he was trained. Let alone raised. And when he got over it in 10 minutes, I kept being angry.

I held Lillian in my arms that first time, and I couldn't imagine her ever being more than 2 feet away from me. I almost but the poor nurses arm off when she tried to change her. Damian was even worse.

Every time I think of the lonely nights I spent, cooking dinner for myself, putting myself to bed, and getting my own cough medicine when I was sick, I think of how close my daughter is.

She is so loved, and I could never be more grateful for that. Even if I will never stop being angry that we were not given that same love. Even if I'm worried we might repeat history somehow.

"Beloved, your thoughts are written louder than your book." Damian says, running a hand along my leg. I sigh, he always knows when I'm getting reflective.

"Can't hide anything from you, can I?" I ask, sarcasm and a smile dripping from my lips.

"You never could." He says to me. "Tell me where your mind went." His hand tucks a stray hair behind my ear. Despite the years, and the fact we have a child together, I blush at the contact.

"I'm just, happy for Lillian, I guess." I admit. "She's got an amazing dad who loves her beyond words, and well, she's right there. She'll never have a night alone unless she wants to." I look at her purple coloured door. Me and Damian painted it together.

"Of course she won't. She has the both of us, and the world's most overbearing uncle's and aunt's to be there when she needs. And let us not discuss Father and Selina being practically suffocating whenever they get the chance." Damian drawls. I smile.

"You love them just as much as Lillian does Dami." I poke a finger at his shoulder. He scoffs, but a smile graces his features.

"I will admit nothing." He tells me. I roll my eyes.

"Oh god, that's where she got it from." I groan. He raises a brow. "No question she's your daughter Dami. She said almost the exact same thing earlier when I was right about her socks being on the wrong foot."

"Then she has an excellent understanding of when to admit fault." Damian says with a little too much drama to his voice, just so I know he's joking.

"She's going to get to kindergarten and rule it with an iron fist I swear." I roll my eyes with a smile.

"Any daughter of mine is a leader by blood, she will conquer kindergarten and have the first graders shining her shoes, wrong feet or not." Damian flashes me a trademark smirk.

"You're so ambitious. Just let her get through the first day before we start encouraging the dictatorship of her classroom." I scoff. He nods primly.

"Very well, but she will be a queen one day. Mark my words Cora Wayne." He grins.

"She'll be whoever she wants to be. We just gotta stay out of her way." I smile.

She'll be amazing, and we both know it. Because he was right. Lillian Wayne has an army of people to support her, love her, and guide her.

And maybe, when she's older, we'll have another Robin in the Cave again.