I'll be good

Road To Recovery

It had been two weeks since the invasion, and Gotham was recovering slowly.

The ones who had been infected were healing bit by bit, but the scars remained. They served as a reminder of what had happened. Of what they had survived.

Jason sat in his bedroom, in his safe house on the outskirts of Gotham City. For once, it wasn't raining, and the sun shone beautifully in the sky. But Jason didn't feel like venturing outside to enjoy the warm weather.

He lifted his sleeve, revealing the Ivory skin underneath. He did this almost every hour of every day, checking for any signs of blackness in his veins. He never did find any, but he still looked.

Jason peered out of his window once more, watching as the GCPD cleaned up the wreckage throughout the city. It was getting better every day and soon enough everything would be back to the way it was, at least, that's what they said.

The blinds shut with a snap, encasing the room in darkness, which Jason was grateful for. His on-going migraine eased at the lack of light.

He let out a heavy sigh as he lay down on his bed; It wasn't as cozy as the bed he had back in Wayne manor, but for now, it was comfortable enough. He let his eyes close, willing to forget about past events and let sleep overcome him.

***

Tim didn't wake up for three days. Alfred had said it was most likely due to over-exhaustion and sleep deprivation. On the bright side, Tim recovered much faster, and he was finally getting some well-deserved rest.

It was around four-thirty in the afternoon when his eyes finally fluttered open on the fourth day. That was the day Jason left, and he hadn't been back since.

Bruce thought it would be a good idea if they all stopped patrolling for a while, and focused on recovering. However, Bruce would still don his cape and cowl every once in a while, only to check up on Gotham. Surprisingly, all was quiet.

With the help of the Justice League, Batman may have been able to defeat an Apokoliptic invasion and save his city, but Bruce, by no means, had time to relax.

He still had one problem currently residing in his city, a problem named Talia Al Ghul.

Bruce spent the majority of his time in the Batcave, surveying Gotham through the hidden cameras he'd set up. He watched her traipse around his city, dressed in rich green, pretending to be a generic citizen.

She was a very good actress, the best at pretending to be kind and chivalrous. But Bruce knew better.

He knew why she was here and it looked like she wouldn't be leaving any time soon. Bruce sat for hours at a time watching her, waiting for her to slip up her act so he would have a reason to throw her out. But Talia was good at playing pretend.

It was the sound of someone entering the Batcave that forced him to look away.

It was his eldest son, Dick Grayson, who had disturbed his recent isolation. But Bruce didn't mind the sudden interruption, and with Dick only recently returning from Blüdhaven, he was a sight for sore eyes.

Dick noticed the familiar streets of Gotham displaying clearly on the Batcomputer's screen and edged closer towards it, throwing a quizzical glance at Bruce.

"You know... You don't have to keep checking up on the city, Bruce," Dick said, turning to face his adoptive father.

Bruce sighed and stood from his chair, "it's not that, Dick." He paused, unsure whether or not he should tell his son. "There's something I've been keeping to myself."