Batsis Stories, Imagines, & One-Shots

Forging Paths PT. 2

Wayne Manor was no doubt a symbol of Gotham City. Ask anyone who lived in Gotham, "What are the most important pieces in Gotham City?" The response usually involved: Wayne Enterprises, Arkham Asylum, anything and everything dedicated to Thomas and Martha Wayne, and Wayne Manor. Old didn't even begin to describe the mansion, the thing was ancient. Located just on the outskirts of Gotham City, it stood tall and proud, despite the melancholy air that surrounded it. (Y/N) stood in front of the door wrestling with her desire to flee, and her promise to stay for Jason. Reluctantly, she slipped the key into the lock, turned it, pushed open the massive wooden door, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. Dark. She thought. Why is it always so damn dark in this place? I know he has electricity. Why can't he use it? Her eyes strained to see in the darkness but eventually fitted to it. She tried to force her feet to move forward, but the feelings inside her tied her in place. Anger, sadness, frustration, hope, shame, pity, contempt, rage. They all swirled inside her as she began to remember why she never came ho-... no, this was not home. This hadn't been home for almost a decade; home was wherever the hell she could get away from the name 'Wayne'.
Memories played in her mind on a loop, starting with the earliest she could remember. Three, and being carried off to bed waiting for daddy to come home and read to her.

 Five, and trying to show daddy a picture she drew, but being told that he was in the middle of a 'very important conversation, daddy will look later'.

 Seven, and finally daddy is spending some time with her; they're going to the circus! 

Ten, and she stands beside her brother as they are berated for putting themselves in danger while on patrol. 

Thirteen, and standing outside the dance hall in the brand new dress she bought, waiting for dad to come to the Father/ Daughter Dance; he never showed.

 Fourteen and has already learned how to put a face on for the socialites; "Yes, my daddy is the best there is, I love him so much!" 

Sixteen, and beginning to resent the uniform she put on each night; it only symbolized how dad cared more about a vow made at eight years old, than his own children.

 Eighteen, and laughing her ass off at this thirteen year old kid who's hauling ass away from her dad after stealing the wheels off the batmobile; she likes this kid, he's going to fit right in. 

Twenty-one, and blood-curdling screams and heart-wrenching sobs fill the cave as she holds onto her dead brother for dear life; this is his fault, his mission caused this. 

Twenty-Three, and standing outside L.A.; this is the first time she's been on her own. 

Twenty-Four, and she's already made a name for herself; The Sentinel, taking out criminals her way, not his.

 Twenty-Five, and hearing reports of a new vigilante in Gotham, The Red Hood; sneaking back into the city and meeting her baby brother all over again.

 Twenty-Six, and taking a break from hunting for a night to watch movies with Jason, telling all about the falling out between her and him, and letting him in to all she's been storing; if you look hard enough, it's almost like he never died. 

Twenty-Seven, and you'd think with all the time she spent away she'd be over it, but she isn't. She still hates this God-forsaken house and the man who owns it; she hates her inability to let go of everything that ties her here, but years of neglect and despondence are not so easily forgotten.

Inhaling sharply, (Y/N) willed her feet to move and she stepped carefully through foyer towards the study. The door was nudged open and she could hear china clinking. Alfred's making tea then. She thought. Slipping through, she propped herself against the bookshelf and spoke quietly.

"If you're making tea, mind pouring me a cup Alfred?" Alfred dropped the cup he'd been holding in alarm and raised up quickly, turning to face her.

"Ms. (Y/N)! Good Heavens, y-you're actually here! When Master Jason mentioned he was going to try and get you, I confess I hadn't believed you'd actually come!" The corner of (Y/N)'s mouth raised ever so slightly as she responded.

"Yes, I'm here." Her face dropped as she mumbled, "Not that I really want to be here." She shook her head and walked over, kneeling to pick up the broken china that lie scattered around Alfred's feet.

"No, no, Ms. (Y/N), let me." (Y/N) waved him off and gathered the pieces in her hand, placing them back on the tray. She stood back up and they stared at each other for a moment before Alfred pulled her in to a tight hug. "I have missed you Ms. (Y/N)." His voice laced with unshed tears, as her arms wound themselves around Alfred's back. They stayed for a few seconds before pulling away, Alfred taking her face between his hands and observing her. "You have grown in the last four years." She smiled at him.

"How much have I grown, Alfie?" He released her face and stepped back.

"Quite a lot in fact. You've certainly grown taller dear, but that's not what I mean. You look so mature for your age: your eyes look bright, but they're tired and cautious, and your shoulders held back with pride, look like they're being crushed under the weight of worlds." She lowered her head; face morphing into a look of apprehension, Jason could only get so much out of (Y/N). But Alfred? Alfred could get everything. Quickly as it came, it was gone. She raised her head back up and squared her shoulders.

"Yeah well, life changes people. Speaking of people, what's the gangling quartet of Bat-brats up to?" She turned her head towards the direction of the kitchen, as sounds of clanging occurred, followed by sounds of shouts and thrown hands and feet. Alfred slid a hand down his face and sighed deeply, (Y/N) snorting at the mental image.

"If you will follow me Ms. (Y.N), we will find out exactly what the 'gangling quartet of Bat-brats' are 'up to'." Picking up the tray he hurried towards the kitchen; (Y/N) stayed for a moment and listened as Alfred began berating the rowdy boys in the kitchen. Inhaling, she moved towards the door, but stopped and turned towards the fireplace. Her eyes trained themselves on the portrait resting high above her. The entire 'new' family, Jason and she excluded. She stared at him for a few seconds, matching steel blue eyes locked in a silent fight. She huffed a mirthless laugh and left the study, heart heavy and bitter taste in her mouth. She reached the kitchen in a matter of seconds and paused before opening the door. Carefully, she placed all the feelings back into the box and slapped a smirk on her face. Opening the door, she strode in; three faces expectant, two completely surprised. She stood in front of them and crossed her arms, becoming the very image of the HBIC (Head-Bitch-In-Charge).

"How's it hanging Bat-freaks? Got room for one more?"