Bittersweet

by sevenofakind

Summary:

Talia Al Ghul returns to Gotham to ask for a favour, hoping Bruce Wayne is still the man he once was.

“What are you doing in my city?” Bruce asked, eyes narrowed in the bright light. There was a light, healing bruise near one eye. 

Talia was struck by how much the power stayed. Echoes of the man in the cape and cowl, even in the delicate planes of his exposed face. “It’s a short visit, nothing to do with the Shadows.” 

He didn’t look at her, brow creasing in a way that told her that didn’t cut it. “Why are you here?” He asked again, simmering eyes turned to the sea. 

The mistrust hurt more than she’d planned, but she understood it. Or tried to, despite the centuries weighing heavy on her mind. Things mattered less when you lived as long as she did, grievances faded in the face of falling empires and became inconsequential amongst the hundreds of terrible things Talia had done. 

She'd learned the hard way with Ra's. Ra's didn't even know she liked Bruce, or maybe he did. He just made her use him, use his trust. 

 

Turn a celebratory drink into a trap. 

Talia breathed out slowly. She was a decade late but had to try.  “I am sorry, I never-” 

“Stop.” Bruce’s voice was low and she did, listening to the seagulls crying in the distance. He still wasn't meeting her eyes. That’s right, Batman couldn’t be like that. 

She knew him, knew he worked hard to forget, shoved away his feelings. In fact, she'd taught him many of those tricks herself.  It would be cruel to drag them out. 

In a way, it was another favour to her, one she clung to selfishly. How did one even begin to apologize for the kind of filth they had? 

Her apology wouldn’t be complete anyway. She didn’t have choices, between the Pit and her father, she was poisoned, corrupted, evil in the truest sense of the word. 

Unfit to care for anything, unless she wanted it wanted it to be twisted and broken like her. 

“It’s just-” Talia cut herself off, an unusual quaver in her voice. The weakness made a swell of self-loathing slam into her. 

Bruce was looking at her now, face still rigid, eyes dark and cold. Talia could see him starting to melt now, worry seeping in for her. 

Bruce had always been weak like that. Nothing like her and Ra’s, and being with him had nearly convinced her she could be normal, but she'd learned now. It was too late for her. 

Talia wasn't worthy of that sympathy, so she summoned her old confidence. “How have you been?” She knew all about the losses, about his struggles to keep this city alive. 

Bruce scoffed, taking it the wrong way. “I’m too busy for your games.” He tried brushing past her, but she grabbed his arm. 

He tugged it back in a moment, eyes narrowed. Both of them stared at the other, knowing exactly where the knives were, what weaknesses they could exploit. 

It used to be a game before Talia ruined everything. 

"I'm returning two of your sons," Talia said softly, and Bruce frowned, tense like a cornered animal. 

Talia slowly stepped toward her car and got Damian out in her arms. He’s still asleep, miraculously, so he could’t wince at her touch, go rigid at the sight of her.

It was so rare that she got to just… hold him. 

Bruce’s mouth parted, eyes widening only by a fraction. She’s caught him by surprise again and she hated herself for this newest betrayal. 

"A son?" Bruce asked, his breaths sounding pained, small. He stared at Damian, the shock still echoing across his handsome features. 

She could see parts of what she used to love about him. What some barely-alive part of her still loved about him. 

"He's impressive," Talia chose to say. She worried for a moment that she'd have to explain or prove something. "Like you." 

But she knew Bruce. Knew he’d done the maths from the moment she’d brought the boy out of the car, catalogued Damian’s sharp features to find what was his. 

Talia wondered how long he’d make her stand there, holding an impossible burden. 

Then Damian shivered in the cold sea air and Bruce was taking him from her immediately, wrapping the boy in his coat. 

Damian barely stirred and some part of Talia was furious at the lack of awareness. Her hands twitched in the air, suddenly too empty. 

Bruce couldn’t seem to find his words. He had been a father thrice over, and he was still stunned by this. Talia could only pray her actions haven’t tainted Damian in his eyes. 

She wanted to apologize again, but that wouldn’t help him, just her. 

“He’s been trained by the highest levels of the League.” Talia jutted her chin out, let arrogance shine in her eyes. “I thought he should be trained under the Bat too, reach his greatest potential.” 

“As a killer?” Bruce demanded, voice low. Talia thought about the brash boy she’d only seen glimpses of, and wondered how much she’d been complicit in burying him. 

Damian was like that sometimes. 

“Yes,” Talia said, matching his pitch, folding her hands behind her back. She dug in a nail at the disgust on Bruce’s face. 

“No.” Bruce snarled, quiet enough not to disturb Damian. “The boy-”

“Damian.” Talia interjected, voice too raw. 

Bruce’s face threatened to crumple again. He’d always been so easy to read. “Damian, will never be like Ra’s.” 

Like me. Talia could feel blood sliding down her wrist. She gave nothing away, the centuries, and Lazarus Pit had taken that too. 

It was hard enough some days summoning any kind of feeling aside from bloodlust. 

“He’ll always be one of the assassins,” Talia told him, warned him. 

“He’s mine,” Bruce replied, grip on the boy tightening. Irrationally, Talia wanted to argue that point, but she held her tongue. 

Bruce's eyes flashed, rare anger on full display. “I'll never let that happen. He’ll be a protector, not an assassin.” 

Talia closed her eyes a second too long. She knew how much it broke Bruce’s heart, to send his children to fight. But it was the only way he knew how to live. 

And out of the two of them, Talia knew whose way of living was better for Damian. 

When she opened them, Bruce was tilting his head, considering her. 

“Why now?” He asked hoarsely. 

Because Ra’s asked me to kill him and bring him back. Her father had seen how well it worked with Jason.

“A boy needs a father,” Talia said curtly. “And I imagined you wanted to see the outcome of our experiment.” 

There was too much that bled across Bruce’s face. Talia could pick out pain, trained in the art of detecting it since she was a child. 

“We’re done,” Bruce said finally. “You came what you needed to do, now leave.” 

She smiled, inclining her head slightly. “Until the next time, my love.” Talia turned, fighting to keep her face in order. 

“You said two.” Bruce reminded her suddenly, giving her a reason to see Damian one last time. “Two sons.” 

Two sons he was taking away from her. 

She wasn’t supposed to say that yet, she’d promised Jason. But Talia wanted Bruce to save them both, and she couldn't leave without saying something. It would live in that impeccable memory of his, and maybe mean something. 

You sentimental idiot. Talia scolded herself. Maybe it was better she was ridding herself of Damian. He made her too weak, and she'd given up too much surviving to be weak. 

“You’ll understand later.” Talia breathed in the sea air deeply, the salt against her tongue making her think of the Pit. It was high time she returned to it. “Take care of yourself, Bruce.” 

Her eyes panned over the bruises on his knuckles, the way he favoured his left leg. He said nothing, all the conflict in him carefully out of sight.

He looked like he was going to say something, but he didn’t, casting his eyes downward. 

Talia nodded once and turned. She cried silently as she walked away from them, the loss acute and devastating. 

Blindly she climbed into the back of her car, refusing to look back. What was the point? 

Even if he let her, she could never be a part of their lives. There’s too much darkness in her for Damian, and she would just disappoint them over and over. 

“What are you waiting for? Drive,” Talia ordered sharply, failing to keep the sob from her voice. The driver ignored it, simply starting the car and leaving the pier. 

Talia stared out into the city, knowing her sons would wreak havoc on it soon. She closed her eyes, knowing the day wasn’t long before they had to protect it from her.

Notes:

Don't really know what this is, aside from a writing exercise born of boredom and literally setting. I saw a pier and my brain went, hey wait a second...