Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She hasn’t gone to school in three days. Three days she’s been rolling around in agony, her Grammy checking up on her every hour, and if she wasn't her caretaker, Julianna, was.

Her fever had finally broken that morning, from a once 101.2 degrees to a now normal 99.3. But she didn’t feel any better.

Not in the slightest.

Maeve knew she had to get up at one point, knew that she couldn’t spend the rest of her days in her cramped room and on her twin bed. But she couldn’t.

She was so scared.

The thought of leaving the safety of her apartment was enough to send her over the edge, and when her Grammy suggested she go on a walk she had broken down into tears and wailed, “but what if I don’t return, Grammy?!” and her Grammy had relented and brought her chocolate milk and pet her head and apologized.

Because, well, she was in Gotham now. The most dangerous city in the DC universe, with horrifying villains (like the Joker) and vigilantes that rule the night. The type of mess Maeve wants nothing to do with, or even wants to touch with a ten foot pole.

In Maeve’s opinion, it’s her own personal hell. And to top it all off, if now being in Gotham wasn’t the worst case scenario, she was in America. Her home, London, thousands of miles away and with no way to get back because she had, unfortunately, body snatched a prepubescent child in an alternate reality. Who shared both name and face with, creepily, and even the same background with.

But to make matters even worse? She was fifteen again. No longer is she the freshly turned nineteen year old who went clubbing after classes, and drank her nights away with her girl friends. No, now she is fifteen years old again and stuck in school, and having to deal with bad cafeteria food all over again.

She wanted to grab whoever’s done this to her by the shoulders and shake them and ask why would you do this to me?! Maeve doesn’t know who she pissed off for this to happen to her, but she’s willing to apologize, goddamnit!

If it was anywhere else, Maeve would be happy— well, not happy, happy, but at least more comfortable with accepting the fact she was somehow isekaied into the fucking DCU. But she isn’t, because it’s fucking Gotham.

She rolled to her other side and curled up tighter. Her blinds were pulled down, no natural light getting in, so it was just her and the dark. It felt safe, being in the dark where no one could see or find her. She was hidden in her sheets, and it was the safest she’s felt since she came here.

Safe enough, in fact, that she really wouldn’t mind being melted into her bed and never leaving her room. She can imagine it now — graduating, getting a job, getting married… All on this bed.

“I’m so pathetic.” She mumbled to herself, a fresh set of tears making its way down her cheeks. 

Maeve wasn’t a hero, she knew that for certain. She’d save herself first before saving anybody else, and that just makes her situation even more crueler. She wasn’t the isekai protagonist of mangas, where they are brave and have these amazing powers and save the world.

Maeve wasn’t like that at all. She is just… Human. So, very human. Breakable, weak, and scared.

A knock at her door was her only warning before her Grammy came in, all wrinkly and old and hunched over, but she was beautiful all the same. She clung to her walking stick like it was a part of her body, and she made her way to Maeve. The light coming from the hallway creeped in, and she was forced to squint her eyes.

“Hi, sweetie,” her Grammy said, smiling and sitting down heavily on her bed with a grunt. “Julianna just left. Thought I’d check up on you.”

Maeve sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m okay.”

“I know things are difficult,” she started, her knobbly hand coming up to pet Maeve’s greasy curls. “But you can always come to me, okay? I’m worried about you, Julianna is too. And I got an email from that Wayne gentleman, that his kids are also worried and were wondering when you’re coming back.”

“I know, Grammy,” the mention of the Wayne family almost made her want to puke up her lunch, but she was able to keep it down. “I know, I’m just… going through a rough time.”

“Are you being bullied? Did someone push you? Is that how you fell?” Grammy asked slowly, like the thought of her precious granddaughter being bullied was enough for her to keel over.

“No, no,” Maeve said quickly, sniffling all the same. If only it was that. But she couldn’t tell her Grammy just what happened, as she would just be deemed as crazy. And even though this wasn’t her Grammy, the other Maeve clearly loved her. She could feel the past emotions of the Old Maeve through her, of her chest squeezing tightly of the sight of her poor Grammy being sad for her.

But, she couldn’t. Because what happened was that Old Maeve slipped in the hallway at school, and she hit her head. Hard. And the next thing that happened was that she was gone, and it was the New Maeve who opened her eyes, having a panic attack in the nurses office surrounded by unfamiliar faces, and then passed out and ended up back in her bed, with her Grammy and Juliana standing over her worriedly.

That first day was hard, she was in and out of consciousness from both her fever and of the piercing headache she got from remembering the Old Maeve, and stealing her memories as her own.

She didn’t know where the Old Maeve started and where she ended, and Maeve refused to think any further on that.

She was confused, disoriented, and just wanted to go home. Her Grammy hadn’t left her side the entire day, fretting over her nervously and putting damp rags on her forehead, which worsened her feelings. Because she wasn’t the Old Maeve, she was the New Maeve. The Body Snatcher.

Maeve wanted to tell her to stop, that she wasn’t her granddaughter, but the Old Maeve didn’t let the words spill out and disallowed her to harm her Grammy any more than she did.

“Then what is it?” Her Grammy asked softly, her eyebrows scrunching together.

“I’m scared,” Maeve forced out, her fingers clenching her sheets.

“Of Gotham, right? Of where we live?” Grammy said, her mouth downturning in a sad frown. “But why? We’ve lived here all of our lives, did something happen?”

Maeve shook her head, “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try for me, Mae.”

“I don’t wanna die,” Maeve said quietly, her eyes clenching shut. “I’m scared of the Joker. I’m scared of the Riddler. I’m scared of the Penguin. Of them all. I’m scared of everything, Grammy. I don’t wanna get hurt, I don’t wanna die just going down to the bus stop by some Rogues or something. I’m scared.” 

Her Grammy stayed silent for just a few seconds, her hand still petting her hair in soft, loving strokes. It reminded her of her own Grammy back at home, and that just made the tears go down harder.

“Would it make you feel safer if you took self defense classes?” She asked. “I still get some extra money left over from the state, we can put it towards martial art classes or judo or, or, whatever you want, Mae. Whatever you want to do, I’ll do it.”

Maeve unclenched her eyes, and stared into the soft green of her Grammys. They looked down at her with so much love that it made her choke up. She felt bad for putting this much stress on her Grammy, but the thought of having a means to defend herself… Maeve can’t bring herself to say no. She really, really, can’t. Anything that can give her an upper hand, she will take.

Even back in her world, she was always prepared for the worst. Maeve was that friend that had everything in her purse. She had everything for every situation; a breath mint if there was a cute guy her friend wanted to charm, or ibuprofen for a bad headache, or a pair of socks if her friend's heels started to hurt. You ask, she probably had it.

Whenever she left her house she double checked all of the stoves were off, all of the windows were shut and locked, and made sure to fiddle with the door when she did finally leave to make sure it’s locked and no one can get it. London was known for its plethora of thieves, and by God will she become a victim of one of them.

So, with the offer of being trained to defend herself… Well, it’s like bait to a very starved fish. She just couldn’t help herself.

“How about defense lessons?” Maeve asked hesitantly, her voice cracked and desperate, “I can also get a job to cover—“

“Hush, you. Of course not,” her Grammy shushed, “I have enough in savings and get enough from the government. I’ll pay for the classes, okay? Don’t worry, Mae. You just worry about getting better, and I’ll do the hard things.”

Maeve’s heart ached at the sweetness that radiated off her Grammy, and she soaked it all up like a sponge. Her Grammy died when she was still a teenager, and the Old Maeve’s Grammy was so similar to her own, it made her heart clench uncomfortably. It was like looking into one of those funhouse mirrors, where you look the same but wrong at the same time. 

The mole beneath her eye was on the wrong cheek, she was missing a dimple, and her Grammy’s hair was more gray. But it was her, and she missed her Grammy so much that she selfishly didn’t want her to ever find out that she wasn’t the Old Maeve.

Maeve swallowed uncomfortablely, but nodded. Her Grammy, oblivious to her thoughts, smiled and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, your Grammy will take care of this, got it? Now, get some rest. I’ll let the school and the Wayne family know you’ll be back next week.”

Long after her Grammy left, and after Maeve had finally managed to get herself up to shower — her first one since coming here — she made her decision. It’s either she crumbles from the weight of Gotham, or she builds herself up so that she can stand with it.

She decides, resolutely, to stop cowering. She spent the last three days rolling around, making herself sick from fear. If this was how she’s gonna spend this new life, then she might as well have never been given a second chance.

She grabbed a notebook that sat discarded on her bedside table, and a pink and fluffy pen that sat next to it. It was her diary — or, well, the Old Maeve’s diary.

She hesitated at the thought of using the Old Maeve’s diary, but she’s technically her now, so what’s the harm, right? It’s not like she’s gonna read her past entries. Maeve just needs a spot to write down her plans. She flipped past the old entries, and to a new page. She doesn’t write down a date, and instead uncaps the pen, and presses it down to the paper.

She only made it this far when she remembered, hysterically, that she had no idea what to plan for. She groaned and threw both the diary and the pen across her room and onto her floor. She’s basically a side character, so there really isn’t anything to plan for. And she had no idea what comic or show or movie or anything she was in, who the main character was, nothing.

For all she knew, she was in the Superman movie and there was nothing to worry about.

But, from her extensive knowledge of DC (it was on her for you page on TikTok forever ago, and she got weirdly into it. She hyperfixated on the Bats, and so became very involved in subreddits and discourse surrounding the characters) there was no mention of a Maeve Hughes that lived in Park Row with her Grammy. No vigilante that even remotely looks like her, and no connections to the main cast, at all. So, it is safe to assume she is just a normal side character with no plot relevance at all.

And by everything, she will remain that way. The unimportant side character.

“I guess I can plan for that,” Maeve murmured to herself, and left the warmth of her bed and picked back up her diary and obnoxiously pink pen, and chose this time to sit at her overly cluttered desk desk. She had to swipe some things onto the floor to make room, and promised she’d clean it up before her Grammy saw.

Rule Number 1 — do NOT get involved with the Bat Family. They are a clusterfuck of a family that goes out of their way for trouble, which, mind you, you do NOT want. 

Rule Number 2 — keep your head down. Can’t get targeted if no one knows you, right?

Rule Number 3 — you are Maeve Hughes. No matter who you were before, that doesn’t matter. There is only one Maeve, and that is you. 

Rule Number 4 — don’t die a premature death.

Chapter Text

Maeve started Monday late to school. Because, obviously, she had to wait until Julianna came to make sure her Grammy wouldn’t be left alone, had to make conversation with her, and made sure her Grammy would be okay with her gone. Her Grammy had tried to get her to leave, but Maeve stood firm.

And no, it wasn’t because she was scared to leave her apartment. Obviously not. It was definitely because she was nervous about leaving her Grammy alone.

And no, it did not take both her Grammy and Julianna to shove her out the door and lock her out. Because Maeve is an adult woman, and she is not scared of the outside world, because what adult woman would be?

Never in her life had Maeve walked as fast as she did to the bus stop, all the while looking over her shoulder as she did so.

She had to wait a few minutes for Bus 134 to pull up, as she had to get on the one going to the Upper East Side. From there, she’d have to get off on the stop closest to the school, which was a five to ten minute walk, and then she would be there.

The bus pulled up just as she was about to start stressing, and she got on and tapped her metro card. She found an empty spot on the bus near the back and sat down.

For the next twenty minutes, Maeve couldn’t help herself and took in the sights. She lived on the poorer side of the city, so she wasn’t surprised when she saw the houses riddled with gun holes and homeless people laying on sidewalks. It was depressing to see, but having lived in London, it had become almost normal.

The Bowery wasn’t much better, but compared to Park Row, it was day and night. There weren't as many homeless people on the sidewalks, and there were more business men and women walking to their jobs. The buildings also looked a little bit nicer, with some even looking considerably new.

But, what really caught Maeve’s attention was the loyalty to the gothic architecture. Everywhere she turned, there were towering gargoyles protecting a fancy building, imposing and bold, daring anyone to mess with it. The buildings were created sprawling columns and marble, like straight out of Dracula .

Maeve could only imagine what the Wayne Manor looks like, if it were to look like anything from the recent Battinson movie. She’s almost giddy with the chance of even catching a glimpse of the inside, of the eerie marble floors and ceilings that look like the inside of an old Victorian house. With grand staircases and vintage furniture, and sprawling hallways that never end; a labyrinth in of itself.

The only thing rich people can do good is decorating, and by God did Wayne Manor do it well.

She got off at Bond Street, and made the ten minute walk to school. Lucky her, it was just a straight line to Gotham Academy so she didn’t need to remember any turns. The sidewalk was filled with other kids wearing the same uniform as her, and so she followed the crowd, slipping and disappearing.

The Old Maeve didn’t have any close friends, just an acquaintance here and there in some classes, so Maeve didn’t need to worry about making sure she is acting the same way. It was almost sad, actually, how the first half of the day no one asked if she was alright.

No one seemed to even remember she was absent for an entire week, which, ouch.

But, that all changed during lunch, making a beeline to where they were serving lunch. The food actually looked edible, surprisingly, and Maeve ordered the chicken caeser salad with garlic bread, and then picked up an apple juice that sat in the fridge next to the register.

The lunches were free, which Maeve happily took note of and sauntered her way to an abandoned table when—

“Hey, Maeve! Sit with us!” A feminine voice coming from her right said, and Maeve looked over and saw a blonde haired girl waving at her, with a boy at her side with deep eyebags that he looked almost like a panda, a dark skin boy that smiled softly at her, and then a bronzed skin boy, who looked to be a few years younger than them all sat with them with a scowl on his lips.

Maeve almost pretended not to know them, but she already looked over and made eye contact with the enthusiastic blonde that still was excitedly waving at her.

She would feel bad if she didn’t at least entertain them for a little bit, and this would probably just be a one time thing. They weren’t friends — barely knew each other, actually — and they had only helped her out that one time when she passed out.

And, knowing their night time personas, she knew that it was their “duty” to check up on someone who got hurt in their presence.

She made her way over and sat at the open seat next to the boy that was scowling at her. If she remembered correctly, his name is Damian. The current Robin.

“I’m not sure if you remember us,” the blonde, Stephanie, she thinks, started, “but we helped you in the hallway when you hit your head. We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah,” Duke said, nodding along, “you weren’t back for a week, so we were worried.”

Maeve, slightly taken aback at the level of concern radiating off those two, briefly glanced to look at Tim, who seemed to be eyeing her like a very expensive piece of jewelry. Or, maybe as a rare specimen underneath a microscope. Yeah, that sounds more accurate.

She smiled awkwardly at them, “yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, by the way, for the help. I don’t think I would’ve made it to the nurses office without you guys.”

“Of course!” Stephanie chirped, stabbing her fork into a piece of salad, “we’re just glad you’re okay.”

“I appreciate it, really,” Maeve said. She didn’t pick up her fork, and the boy next to her was still glaring at her like she had personally offended him, and Tim was still eyeing her up.

All of this was so weird. She understands their duty to be heroes, but she’s a nobody. Maeve Hughes is nothing to the main characters of this world, she should’ve just been a passing thought to them, or another nameless civilian that needed saving.

“Well, if that’s all…” Maeve hurriedly got up, and all of their eyebrows raised — well, except for Damian’s. He seemed almost glad for her to be leaving.

“Where are you going?” Tim asked, and— God, if Maeve didn’t know better, she would’ve thought of him as creepy as hell. With how his eyes track every and all movements she made, just watching her to slip up.

To slip up with what? She doesn’t know, but from what she knows about Tim, it can’t be anything good.

Maeve shuffled in place awkwardly, ready to flee at a moment's notice. “Well, I assumed you just wanted to ask me if I was okay and all of that, so now I’m going?” Maeve answered back hesitantly. Duke and Stephanie made eye contact, seemingly having a silent conversation with just their eyes, and Tim still hadn’t looked away.

The bastard had a bad staring problem. 

Damian scoffed, but said nothing and continued his lunch. His lunch was from home, and Maeve distantly remembered that was because he was vegetarian, or vegan. She forgot which one, but she knew he didn’t eat meat.

“No, not at all,” Stephanie reassured, finally finishing up her silent conversation with Duke, “we actually wanted to talk to you. Get to know you, you know?”

She seemed genuine, genuine enough, and so Maeve sat back down against her own wishes, her plate clattering back onto the table. She didn’t want to get on their bad side, who knew what kind of retribution would come down on her. The thought of the Bat himself showing up on her fire escape was enough for Maeve to hold her tongue.

“Alright, so it’s safe to assume this isn’t because you guys feel bad for me, right?”

“No, we were actually just quite curious about you,” Duke replied before Tim could, who had opened his mouth like he was going to but was shut down by both Duke and Stephanie.

“Yeah, and feel bad for you? Girl, we wouldn’t go out of our way to ask you to sit with us just because we feel bad for you,” Stephanie shook her head and took another dramatic bite of her salad, like what she said was ridiculous.

“Oh, okay,” Maeve said, unsure of what else to say.

“By the way, what class do you have after this?” Duke asked conversationally.

Maeve took a bite out of a slice of bread and hummed. Surprisingly, the food here wasn’t all that bad. “I have Algebra II, and then art.”

“Oh! Damian also has art as his last class, right?” Duke said, looking towards said boy.

Damian rolled his eyes, “yes. But it is a beginner art class, so it is very below my skill level.”

“Oh, you like art?” Maeve asked, “I’m not very good at it. I’m more into history and writing than drawing.”

“Then why take art class?” Damian countered, “art class is for those who aspire to be artists one day, and for those who want to get better at the craft. You are a waste of a seat—“

“That’s enough, Damian.” Tim sighed, the first time his eyes left Maeve to glare at Damian.

“Don’t listen to the Demon Spawn,” Stephanie murmured, leaning up towards Maeve and bringing up a hand to cover the side of her mouth, like she was about to tell her a big secret, “he may act like a brat, but he’s actually a huge softy. You’ll get used to it.”

Maeve nodded her head slowly, scooting just a little bit away from the prickly teen, who was still scowling at her.

“I can hear you, Brown.”

Stephanie didn’t even blink, and instead started to play her own game of 20 Questions with Maeve. Tim and Duke butted in sometimes, but it was mostly them two talking. 

“So, where do you live?”

“Park Row.”

“Oh my god, really?! Me too! Where do you live? I live on the outskirts with my mom, in Oak Apartments.”

“That’s cool, I live more in the middle. My Grammy and I get assistance from the government, so we just live in one of those accommodations.”

“That’s cool, what’s your favorite cafe around you? Mine is—!”

And that’s how she spent her lunch period, Steph (she told her to call her that, said her full name is too proper and Maeve agreed) excitedly chatting her ear off, the boys at the table making small talk between themselves. Well, except for Damian, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Whenever they did try he’d scoff and go back to whatever the hell he was doing on his phone.

Steph ended up walking her to her class after that, after the boys had separated from them. She told her that her class is just a few doors down from hers, so it makes sense for them to walk together.

It was weird, to have someone be so chatty and so insistent on being your friend. Usually, it’s Maeve that makes the first move and is the one to cling to the other person, talking their ears off and not having a single silent moment between them. 

It wasn’t not a welcome change, actually, as Steph was really nice and also funny, but… Maeve wants nothing to do with the Wayne's, and their nightly personas. Notoriously, everyone involved with them either ends up dead, tortured, or tortured and then dead and Maeve does not want to be a part of that statistic.

“Hey, before I go, can I get your number? Maybe we can take the bus together one day,” Steph asked, snapping her out of her musings.

Maeve smiled hesitantly, clutching her phone a little tighter, and reasoned Steph isn’t technically a Wayne. She’s a close friend of theirs, of course, and she also works with them, but she is more on the outskirts than with them. A family friend, is all. “Yeah, of course.”

“Great! It’s so rare to find other Crime Alley kids that go here, you know? And Tim and Duke, I love them I do, but they just don’t get it like you and I,” Steph said, handing over her phone, “with them being rich and all.”

Maeve nodded distractedly, plugging her phone in and naming her contact “Maeve H. :)” before trading phones. “I thought so. Living up on their hill looking down on us poor people, I’m surprised Damian even allowed me to sit next to him.”

Steph laughed at that, a full belly thing that made Maeve also laugh with her, and grinned. “I think you’re my new best friend, Maeve.”

Maeve matched her grin, and they both waved goodbye when the bell rang, Stephanie rushing to her class.

Math was uneventful, obviously, and as the rest of her classes no one mentioned her extended absence. It stopped hurting after the third class went by and no one made any comments towards her asking where she had been.

She felt kind of bad for the Old Maeve. The constant glares she got and the “accidental” kicks to her chair were anything to go by, and if the whispers around her that all included “Crime Alley” and some very interesting choice of words that followed, then it made sense as to why she had no close friends, and why no one even cared.

Rich people hate poor people. Even in different worlds that stayed true. It all made sense as to why no one cared to check in on her, and once again Maeve is reminded of just how cruel teenagers can be to those they look down upon.

But, since she was the adult in this situation (even though no one but her knew that) she decided to take the high road and not turn around in her seat and give them a piece of her mind. No, all that’s going on in her mind is puppies and kittens and rainbows, no plots on how to get away with murdering some rich teenagers and how to get away with it.

After math ended, and a brief talk with the teacher that handed her worksheets that she missed from last week, she was on her way to art. With Damian.

Damian wasn’t there yet, and so Maeve chose the safe decision to sit in the back of the classroom. The art classroom was like any other art room, with large black tables and stools instead of the regular chairs, and paintings and art littered the room, some made out of clay, obviously done by some student and gifted to the teacher.

It was homey, and all of the kids in the class seemed relatively nice. She even got a smile from one of the girls she passed on the way to her seat! The first one today!

She settled her backpack down on the floor and took out a pencil, and waited for the bell to ring. The art teacher wasn’t there yet, so Maeve decided to play on her phone, going on some random brainrot game that both satisfied her and also made her use her two brain cells. When, in the middle of the level, she got a notification.

Steph

Hey! This is Steph! :)

Maeve tapped on the notification and she felt a small smile make its way to her face, unbeknownst to her. She quickly texted back.

Me

Hey!

She wasn’t sure what else to say. Would it be normal to ask her how her last class was? Or, what class she’s in right now? Or, what is she doing after school? What is she thinking of eating for dinner?! Argh! Maeve does not miss being a teenager anymore.

“Tch, you’re in my spot.” A very familiar, very bratty voice came in front of her.

Maeve sighed and put her phone down, looking up and making eye contact with Damian. “There’s another seat here, if you wanna sit down. I don’t mind.”

“This is my table,” he insisted.

“Do you seriously want me to move?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Maeve asked again, moving her hair away from her ear and cupping it like it could make her hear better.

“ Yes , Hughes. I would like you to move.” Damian bit out, looking all but five seconds away from moving her himself.

But, Maeve is stubborn. And this child, no matter how much she loves Robin and would argue against his antis in comment sections, is still being a little brat. And Maeve has had enough experience with dealing with snotty cousins to know how to deal with them.

Even though she should really just avoid the Wayne's in general… Well, what’s the harm in teasing the little Robin, anyways? It’s not like she’s a main character, just a side character in their decades long plot. She doesn’t even exist, technically, so there really can’t be any consequences.

Maeve shrugged, “sorry, my stuff is already all laid out. And class starts soon. I don’t wanna get on Ms. Greene’s bad side.”

“You—“

“Hello, class!” The woman of the hour walked in, her curly hair up in a bun and wearing colorful clothes, all clashing together to create something both ugly and beautiful. “Sorry for my tardiness, the boys decided to flood the toilets again. They needed a teacher to guard the door while the janitors worked.”

Damian scowled, and all but threw himself down onto the chair across from Maeve. He gave her a look, silently telling her this isn’t over. Maeve just smiled at him, and went back to listening to Ms. Greene talked to the class.

It was only afterwards, after a very tough period of Damian glaring daggers into her soul, that she fled from the scene. She did not want to give the stabby Robin a chance to go after her, and even though he seemed to be around fourteen or fifteen now, she still would not put it past him to go charging at her.

It was only when she had left the gates of the Academy did she look back and saw the scowling face of Damian directed her way, but Steph’s arm was around his shoulders and she smiled and waved at Maeve. Maeve waved back, hesitantly, and she smiled brighter.

Of course, at that moment their car had to pull up, subsequently blocking her view of them. Maeve took it as her queue to get a move on, if she wanted to make the 3:16 bus.

Maeve got there just in time, waiting in the small line of a few other Academy kids and adults, and when she got to her seat, she allowed herself to breathe a bit easier. She made her first friend from this world, bullied a child, and is now gonna come home to her Grammy and Julianna.

Maybe, Gotham isn’t so bad.

Okay, so she took it all back.

Gotham was, in fact, as bad as she thought. Even worse so, actually, with the fact that she is now cowering behind the seat in front of her while on the bus ride back home. The other passengers on the bus didn’t look nearly as frightened as she did, but when the bus swerved and was forced to pull over, and then the driver manhandled out of his seat, and then a group of clowns came in…

Well, Maeve was rightfully freaking the fuck out. They weren’t even in Crime Alley yet, and the first day she chooses to put on her big girl pants the bus is fucking held hostage by some Joker wannabes!

“Alright, ladies and gents of Gotham! Empty yur bags!” One of the clowns, a girl with twin pigtails and a gnarly mask to match, said loudly, shaking the bag out in front of her. “Don’t wanna lose fingers now, do ya?!”

The old woman that sat in the disabled chair fumbled with her bag, but otherwise was calm. Like this was any other day.  She gave her wallet over and huffed, then turned back to looking outside her window.

“Nice of ya! Yur donation will be appreciated!” Pigtails said cheerfully, moving onto the next row of people.

The other two members of her group held a bat and a hammer, both dramatically huge and painted in bright colors. In any situation Maeve would’ve maybe found comical. 

Too bad Maeve couldn’t appreciate the travesty, as Pigtails was making her way down the aisle, holding up a bag and demanding wallets and jewelry to go in, and everyone just did.

“Signal should’ve started patrol, right?” One of the women in front of her asked her friend, keeping her voice at a murmur.

“Yeah, I think so,” her friend shrugged. “I hope he comes soon.”

Like they were talking over coffee and not being held hostage… Maeve was seconds away from having a panic attack and the people around her were acting like this was just a mild inconvenience.

Suddenly, the emergency door was pulled over, and in all of his glory stood Signal with his hands on his hips. He shook his head in mock disappointment, “what did I say about holding people hostage?”

Pigtails groaned and stomped her foot, “no fair! I wasn’t even half way down the aisle!”

“Come on, let's get you back in custody,” Signal sighed, motioning for them to come with him.

Pigtails groaned even louder, but she still complied. She dropped the bag of stolen goods and walked out with the arms crossed, her two buddies behind her followed.

The bus driver stood outside with his arms crossed until they were off and handcuffed by Signal, then flashed him a thumbs up. He walked back inside and sat down in the driver's seat.

“Sorry about that folks. We will be a little late to the next stop, but don’t you worry I’ll try to keep the bus on time.” His voice came over the loud speaker, tinged with the exhaustion of only a man that deals with the Gotham chaos daily can have. “And please collect your stolen items with precaution. We do not need any more incidents to happen.”

And from there, it was smooth sailing.

Maeve had hesitantly sat back down, holding her backpack to her chest like a shield. At some point, someone had asked her if she was new to Gotham after seeing her cowering, and she had to cowardly explain that she’s lived here her entire life.

That got a few snorts from the surrounding passengers, and Maeve wanted to die of embarrassment.

She missed her, albeit sometimes scary moments, home in London. There, all she had to worry about was pickpockets and school children thinking they’re tough shit. But Gotham was a hell of another story, with crazy people having access to guns and a corrupt police force that didn’t give a shit.

It was maddening that there wasn’t a single police car outside, and there was rather a teenaged vigilante acting as the enforcer of the law. And with how casual he was about the whole situation, this must be a common experience.

Maeve knew, deep in her heart, that this wouldn’t be the last time their bus is held hostage by those three hooligans.

B’s Favorites

Steph

I don’t think she remembers.

Tim

So strange.

Steph

Don’t you dare Tim.

Duke

Don’t, Tim.

Tim

What? I’m not gonna do anything. It’s just weird, is all.

Tim

She comes back and acts like nothing has happened. And that scar on her forehead? Completely healed, even though it was gushing blood just last Tuesday.

Steph

Maybe she’s a fast healer.

Duke

Yeah, and face wounds tend to heal faster. We would’ve noticed if something was off, if there was anything.

Tim

Fine.

Steph

I’m serious, Tim. Leave her be.

Tim

I won’t look into her. Happy now?

Steph

Very.

Duke

You promise?

Tim

For now.

Tim

But if anything else weird happens, you can’t expect me to not investigate.

Duke

That's the best we’re gonna get, Steph.

Steph

Fine, deal. Just don’t scare her away, okay? I really was serious when I said I wanted to get to know her better for her , and not just for “the case”.

Tim

I understand.

Duke

Now that that’s done, can someone give me the answers to the math hw pls pls pls.

Steph

I haven't done it yet.

Duke

Tim?

Read by Tim and Steph.

Duke

I’m hiding your energy drinks.

Tim

You’ll never find them.

Steph

Ooooo the girls are fighting!

Chapter Text

Her first week went by in a whirlwind. She sat with the Waynes at lunch, tormented Damian in art, and was only held hostage once more on the bus ride back.

Overall, Maeve would call it a very successful first week of school.

But now, as she sat in her room with her head in her hands, dressed in athletic wear and her hair up in a ponytail, on a Friday evening… She was having second thoughts.

When her Grammy told her she had found an instructor, and that said instructor hosts free self defense lessons at a gym just around the corner from them, Maeve was ecstatic. Happy, even.

She even gushed about it towards her new friends, excitedly retelling them what her Grammy told her, and how they found someplace in Park Row and for free! Hitting two birds with one stone!

Of course, it was during that time that her spirits were crushed, when Steph offhandedly told her that Red Hood was the one that teaches the self defense classes.

“Oh, the classes Red Hood teaches to the Crime Alley kids?”

Of fucking course he does!

Maeve almost banged her head right there on the lunch room table, and she should’ve as all of them laughed in her face — shit, even Damian cracked a smile!

Steph had tried to reassure her that it wasn’t just for kids (Maeve was glad she took it that way, and not the I-Want-Nothing-To-Do-With-Vigilantes way) and that it was for everyone that wanted to learn a thing or two. Tim then tacked on that it was Red Hood's way of making sure his people are protected, even when he isn’t there.

“Crime Alley is like his baby. He doesn’t like anyone messing around on his turf without his knowledge, and having his kids know how to defend themselves is his way of making sure they will be alright when he isn’t there.”

She still groaned at the thought of having to interact with the Red Hood. Obviously, her Grammy went through this much trouble to get her enrolled, so she would obviously attend. How did she do it? She had no idea, but Julianna had been acting oddly pleased with herself the past week.

Maeve groaned again into her hands, wishing that Red Hood got sick or something and canceled the weekly class. But, of course, that call never came, and as it slowly ticked towards five, she may as well start getting out her casket outfit.

“Mae, come on! I wanna see you off before I go,” came Julianna’s excited voice from behind her door.

Maeve sighed, and decided to just get it over with. She put in a lot of work to find something that’s both free and easily accessible, going above and beyond for her. And also very much above her pay grade.

Maeve opened the door, and Julianna smiled at her and grabbed her arm in a soft but steady grip. Her skin is bronzed with black, curly hair that is up in two buns. She was in her fifties, and had been helping her Grammy for two years now. Her eyes crinkled when she saw the younger girl, and she threw her arm over her shoulders.

“Look at you,” Julianna gushed, leading her away.

She allowed herself to be pulled into the living room, where her Grammy sat on the only couch they had. It was quite ratty, but was very much loved, with quilts made from when her Grammy was in better health pulled over the scratched and worn down leather.

The television was on, playing Judge Judy of all things, and she too turned and smiled at her.

“You’re gonna do great, Mae,” her Grammy said, attempting to push herself up. Both Julianna and Maeve came to help her, and she smiled appreciatingly at them. “And let me know if that Red Hood fella is single, alright?”

Both of the women giggled, and Maeve rolled her eyes.

“Grammy…”

“Now, now,” Julianna chimed in, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, “I think we deserve to know, no? All of the other ladies are always gossiping about him, saying how strong and buff he is, what he must be hiding underneath--“

Maeve’s cheeks darkened, “enough! I don’t wanna hear about this!”

“—My daughter must be around his age, do you think you can sneak in a few good words about her?” Julianna asked, blinking her eyelashes at her. “I would love to have him as a son-in-law.”

Maeve groaned, and once they reached the table and helped her Grammy sit down, who was still laughing cheerily, she took a few steps away from them and cross her arm sover her chest. 

“I am not setting your daughter up with a crime lord!”

Julianna sighed and leaned down to her Grammy, and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I tried.”

“Don’t worry, what must happen will happen,” her Grammy said, picking up her cup of tea. “If I see him I’ll put in a few good words.”

“I always knew you had my back.”

Maeve grabbed her water bottle from the kitchen – Julianna already filled it with water – and made for the door, where she bent down and put on her shoes.

“Please, don’t put any ideas into her head,” Maeve asked, shaking her head, “she’ll actually track him down and force him to have tea with her.”

Julianna laughed, and shooed her away with her hand, before she herself also took a seat across from her Grammy, mirroring her actions. “Get going, don’t wanna get on Red Hood's bad side, hm?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maeve muttered, standing back up and grabbing her keys off the wall.

“Tell me all about it when you come back, Mae,” her Grammy said, turning around to face her, “and please come home, okay?”

“I will, Grammy. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mae.”

Once the door was shut behind her, she took deep a breath, squared her shoulders and made her way to the stairs. All she had to do was blend in, that’s all.

No standing out, no catching Red Hood's attention. Sounded easy; sounded perfect.

She arrived just as it hit five, the gym doors open. Inside, she could hear the multiple voices of children all whining about something, and Maeve had to collect herself before she went in. She peaked inside before heading in, hiding herself behind the wall.

She saw three children and Red Hood himself standing before them, arms crossed and imposing. She was never the best with small children, and if what Steph said was true that the classes Red Hood teaches are mostly filled with children, then there is little hope there will be anyone her age around any time soon. 

Immediately, as she stepped in, everyone turned to her and Maeve’s cheeks darkened. Red Hood stood on the middle of the mat in sweats and a muscle shirt, his helmet still on and gleaming dangerously in the flickering fluorescent lighting.

However, his menacing aura was quickly diminished as she noticed he had a child hanging off his toned arms, swinging back and forth with a big, toothless smile.

“You are Maeve, right?” Came his gruff, modulated voice.

“Yes,” Maeve said, before quickly catching herself, “yes, sir.”

“No need for formalities, Pipsqueak,” the three children laughed at that, and Maeve just got even more embarrassed, “here, we’re all on the same level. Got it? So just because you're older, don’t mean shit.”

“Hood said a bad word!” One of the girls squealed, pointing her finger at him.

“Bad boy, Hood!” Another kid tacked on, and the class erupted back into chaos.

Maeve hesitantly walked forward, and like a shark to blood in the water, they lunged in. She was slightly overwhelmed by the sheer excitement radiating off of them, one even going as far as to tug on her arm.

“How old are you?”

“Are you the same age as Hood?”

“What school do you go to?!”

“What part of the Alley are you from?”

Their questions were said with the intensity of a machine gun, going off again and again. It almost made Maeve feel overwhelmed, but the kids were just curious about her, and so she hesitantly relaxed.

A curiosity that she had never seen in any Crime Alley kid. It warmed her heart, and reminded her of the primary school kids that she would see toddling home after school was done, with their mothers and fathers at their side.

“You can ask your questions later, right now is time for class,” Red Hood barked, resting his hands on his hips. “Now, into position!”

The kids all groaned, but did as was told. The kid tugging on her arm pulled her over and they all sat in a circle. Red Hood joined them, settling in the middle of the other two girls.

“Before we start our stretches, why don’t we all introduce ourselves?” Red Hood said, clapping his hands together.

“Me me me! I want to go first!” One of the girl's hands shot up, and Red Hood nodded and she grinned. “I’m Libby and I’m in third grade and… uhh, my favorite move is kicking a guy in the balls!”

“Good. I am Red Hood, obviously, and I teach Defense Lessons for Dummies 101. It’s the only class I offer, and I teach every Friday, unless stated otherwise.” 

“I’m Rosemary, I’m also in third grade and I like all of the moves equally!”

They all looked at Maeve, and she hesitantly spoke up. “I’m Maeve, I’m in tenth grade—“

“Woah! You’re old, Miss Maeve! You may be older than my mom!”

“—and, I’m taking this class so that I can learn to defend myself.” Maeve finished, deciding to pretend she didn’t just hear one of the kids call her old.

Red Hood nodded his head at her, “you new to Crime Alley?”

Maeve shook her head, and fiddled with a loose string on her shirt. It was always embarrassing to have to tell others that she had lived here her entire life , and not that she just recently moved here. “No, I’ve lived here my whole life. I just want to learn how to defend myself.”

Red Hood nodded his head, but Maeve was unsure if he believed her or not. Hopefully, he just finds her ditzy and that’s that.

“My turn? Okay! I’m Charlie, I’m in the fifth grade, and my favorite move is the one where you sneak up behind someone, jump on their back, and choke them out!” He said excitedly, vibrating in place.

“Ooh, that’s a good one!” Libby said, nodding along, her matching blonde pigtails moving with the movement. 

Before they could start up again, Red Hood spoke up. “Alright, introductions over. Now, legs apart, reach in.” He said, demonstrating the position. It was kind of funny seeing such a big, buff guy doing stretches surrounded by a bunch of weak-noodled kids.

Maeve followed along, feeling the stretch in her upper thighs and arms. The burn felt good, and she pushed herself a little harder to reach as far in the center for as much as she could.

“Hold for thirty seconds.”

It was only after a few seconds Libby started to whine. “How much longer?”

“Thirty more seconds.”

“What?!”

“Noooo!”

“Please have mercy, Mr. Red Hood!”

Maeve snorted at their antics as the kids continued to pester him, and Red Hood finally seemed to reach his limit and released the stretch.

“One arm over the other,” and like the other stretch, he demonstrated and they all followed along, with only a minimum amount of whining from Libby and Charlie.

The first ten minutes of class consisted of similar stretches, warming their bodies up and getting used to what parts of the body they will be using. Maeve didn’t struggle as much as she thought she would, but she had always been very flexible compared to others.

She watched Red Hood lead, and Maeve was suddenly very grateful that her Grammy found him, and not someone else. He was rough around the edges, yes, and didn’t like to entertain childish whims, but he was understanding, and he had a way of teaching that made it easy to follow.

The way the kids also seemed to latch onto him and follow him shows that he is a good teacher, and very well respected. If Maeve walked away with no defense tactics, she would be very ashamed of herself.

“Libby and Charlie, you guys start sparing. Put on the gloves. And Rosemary when one loses you step in to fight the winner. Understood?”

“Yes, Hood!” They chorused in unison, and they all waddled their way over to where the gloves were kept, helping one another put them on.

“And you,” he spun around and pointed at Maeve, who immediately stood at attention. “We will be going over the groundworks. They have been with me for a few weeks already, so they know what to do. Right now, they could probably put you on your ass.”

Maeve nodded seriously, and decided that he was probably right in that assumption. An easy wind can knock her over right now, which paints her as an easy target in Crime Alley.

“Show me how you’d throw a punch,” Red Hood asked, standing across from her with his arms crossed.

Maeve got into position; which is to say, she brought up her fists like she’s seen on television, and aimed a hit. Red Hood snorted, and she turned red.

“I’m trying, okay!” Maeve said indignantly.

“First lesson: everything that they do in the movies is bullshit,” Red Hood held up one finger, “second lesson: if you fold your fingers like that, you’ll end up with a broken finger,” he held up a second, “and lastly: you are way too stiff, and unconfident. The people out there will take that as a weakness. Remember that.”

“Got it,” Maeve nodded, rolling back her shoulders and fixing her fists.

“Good. Now, widen your stance.”

She hesitantly spread her legs a further apart to where she was also crouching, and she looked up and Red Hood nodded in approval. “Now, if you tuck your thumb in like that you’ll dislocate it. Rest your thumb over the curl of your fingers instead, like this.”

She did as was told, curling her fingers and then resting her thumb on them.

“Elbows in. Got it. Like that.”

“Swing.”

She did, and this time it felt different. Rather than the first time where she was hit weakly batting something away. This time, there was some power behind it, and she actually heard the wind whip as her fist darted out.

She had never thrown a hit that fast before. Maybe technique was everything.

Red Hood didn’t show any outward reaction other than a slight nod, “better. We’ll work on it, but for now it’s fine. I’ll show you how to block, next.”

And from then on, the class went on with Red Hood personally training her. At one point, the kids had gotten bored and started doing what kids do; doing random flips on the mats and running around. Red Hood would sometimes yell at them to stop, but mostly he let them be.

They were like eight, after all. Practically toddlers. It would be weird if they didn’t run around. 

Anyways, Maeve left the lesson tired and sweaty, but now at least knowing how to block a hit and how to dodge. Of course, everytime Red Hood would go for her he would purposefully go slower than he usually is, and give her enough time to either block with an arm out or to dodge out of the way.

Maeve learned pretty quickly that dodging is more than just weaving out of the way, and involved sometimes rolling on the ground to make distance and side stepping. The first time she was forced to do more than sidestep to avoid a hit from Red Hood, she ended up falling on her ass in a chaotic display of avoiding a sweep from him.

He had sighed and looked up at the ceiling in a way that can only be interpreted as him asking for strength, and then forced an impromptu lesson on her.

“Right now, you do not have the experience or the strength to really be much of a threat. Doing flashy moves comes later, because all that’ll do is leave you in a vulnerable position.” Red Hood explained, putting out a hand for her to grab. “I’m here to teach you how to defend yourself, not how to get yourself killed. Understand?”

Maeve had hesitantly nodded, still a bit embarrassed, and took the hand offered. “Okay… but what if I want to learn flashy moves like you do?”

“You wanna be a vigilante on the side or something, Pipsqueak?” He asked, snorting. “Look, no offense, but you ain’t cut out for it.”

“Of course not!” Maeve denied, “it's just, the moves you guys do, it looks cool. That's all.”

Red Hood sighed, “alright, fine. I can teach you some tougher moves that I haven’t taught the younger kids, but that’s it. Okay?”

“Yes!”

“If you ever try to put a leotard on and start running around like a chicken with its head cut off, I’ll be the one to kill ya before any rogues can get their hands on you.”

“Don’t gotta worry about that, Red Hood.” Maeve promised, hefting herself off the ground with his help. “I have no interest in becoming like you.”

“Good,” he clapped her on the shoulder. “Now, again.”

From there, the lesson was smooth sailing. Or, at least smooth sailing enough that she didn’t end up dead. Of course, Maeve would’ve preferred that as she went home with more bruises than she walked in with, and with a slight limp in her step.

It was a quarter past seven, and by God did Maeve just want a shower and then to collapse into bed. Maybe let her Grammy make her something, something filling like canned soup or a grilled cheese. Or, even better, tomato soup with a grilled cheese. And then, she’ll put croutons in the soup and she’ll scoop her sandwich in and take a big, delicious bite that she’d ascend to heaven and then back to earth.

This time, she’ll even maybe watch that new show she’s been meaning to watch for, like, ever. She’ll even make herself a bowl of chocolate ice cream, drizzle it with some chocolate syrup and some whipped cream on top.

Maeve could feel her mouth watering with anticipation, and a goofy smile spread across her cheeks, enough for it to hurt. 

And of course that was when her night had to go south.

Suddenly, she was shoved against the wall, and a man with the bottom of his face covered was in front of her, waving around a knife. She hit her head harshly against the crippling brick behind her, and she had to hold back a gasp. It had happened too quickly, too quickly for her to even fully process.

“Give me everything you have!” He shouted at her, shoving her more up against the wall.

“Okay! Okay,” she said, digging into her jacket pockets to fumble around with her wallet. “Here! Okay? That's all I have!”

He snatched the wallet and took a few steps backwards, already digging through it, “no runnin’! You hear me?! You go when I tell you to go!”

Maeve nodded quickly, her heart beating so loud she swore he could hear it. He fiddled around in her wallet, taking out her measly amount of cash — just five dollars that she had found on the floor a few weeks ago, and completely skipping right past her Gotham Academy ID and everything else.

“This is all you have?!” He shouted, throwing the wallet on the ground and pocketing the rest of the cash. “Take off your jacket!”

She did as he asked, taking it off and giving it to him and he grabbed it harshly. Maeve just hoped for this whole thing to be over .

She knew taking a back alleyway was a bad idea. But she wasn’t thinking with her head, she was thinking with her stomach. She just wanted to eat, cozy up in her bed, and play on her phone. Maybe text Steph about how her lesson had gone,

“Goddamnit! You’re dirt poor!” He groaned, throwing the jacket on the ground once he was done grabbing her phone and pocketing that as well.

Well, no more phone in bed time for her.

Maeve wanted to feel more heartbroken about it, but she was both angry and scared. He took her last remaining cash and pocketed her phone, a phone that she won’t be able to replace for a long time.

And she kind of wanted it back.

He was still busy complaining to himself, pointing his knife at her from a more safe distance and shouting threats that Maeve didn’t care to really listen to. She was angry, so fucking angry.

How dare he think he can just take her shit?! And call her broke when he’s the one robbing her!

If she could just get the knife out of his hand, somehow reach into his pockets to grab her phone, and make a run for it she’d be golden.

But Red Hood didn’t really teach her how to be on the offensive yet, just how to dodge.

And to throw a punch…

Of course! She just had to wait until his back was turned, until he was distracted and then she could land an attack. Red Hood said to not try any moves done in movies, but what could be the harm of at least doing one?

She needed to stall time, somehow catch him off guard enough that she can stun him (with what? She hasn’t thought that far yet) and then steal her belongings back. Easy. Practically a baby could do this.

She cleared her throat to catch his attention, and his eyes snapped towards her with a sharp glare, his knife at least this time pointing downwards.

“So… uh…” Maeve tried to speak, she really did try, but the words couldn’t come out. It was like her tongue was in a twist, and she distantly noticed her hands starting to quiver. “Uh…”

“What?” He scoffed, the knife coming closer. The broken street lamp nearby flickered and she caught the dried blood that coated the edge. “Gonna beg? I can make you beg real nice for me, sweetheart.”

Maeve stood there frozen in time. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. All she could do was watch as he got closer, and his mouth spewing disgusting and vile things all along the way.

“Uh…” She tried again, if she were able to scream someone would come— someone would have to come. “…Hu..”

But she couldn’t.

Her heartbeat rose dangerously, sweat coming down her temple and her hands shook the whole while. And if she weren’t currently leaning against the wall, she knew her legs would’ve failed her. Maeve had forgotten just how powerless she really was, and no matter how much she wished she could move, to do something! Anything!

Her body always betrayed her in the end.

He flicked his knife around and pulled down the scarf that was covering the bottom half of his face, his cracked lips pulled back to reveal a yellowed, cruel smirk. The look in his eyes was frightening, and Maeve knew what was going to happen next without him even having to say anything.

Maeve knew what it was to live as a woman in a male dominated world. She knew the feeling of unwanted hands on her body, and was forced to give herself everything until there was nothing left but a pile of meat and bones on the ground.

“You’ll take me nicely, right?” He goaded, his hands going to his belt and fiddling with the buckle. He had slipped his knife into his pocket at some point. “You’ll be a good girl for me?”

But, God, did she really wish she were different. That she was a hero and able to defend herself, to knock him on his ass and to stand victorious. But, she wasn’t. She’ll never be.

Maeve felt herself slipping, her mind taking a backseat as his hands inched towards her leggings — the same leggings she had put on earlier, excited but so nervous to meet Red Hood.

If only she had known what was to happen afterwards, maybe she would’ve worn jeans.

Just a few more feet and he would be on her, his tongue flicking out like a snake to glide across his thin lips, his pants almost down to his— 

And he was on the… ground? His hands, just inches from her bottoms, were gone. Instead, a very familiar, and a very toned back was in front of her. The figure had two escrima sticks crisscrossed on his back, glinting wickedly in the light, and if she could speak, she would’ve said his name.

Nightwing.

She couldn’t see what happened next, all that suddenly her assaulter on the ground was moaning in pain and then. Silence. Not dead, because Nightwing’s moral compass was as steady as Batman’s, but passed out.

Still, Maeve couldn’t stop herself from shaking. And when Nightwing turned around and kneeled in front of her, it was only when she actually saw his face did she feel the tears come down.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked gently. Although she would detest it if she weren’t as shaken up as she was, kneeling and not looming over her made her feel slightly safer. Like she was in control of the situation, and not as his mercy.

Still, she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. All Maeve could do was shake, and hope that her body wouldn't topple over.

She saw him frown lightly, and he tilted his head. “Hey, I think you're in shock. Is it okay if I put this over your shoulders? I think it’s yours, anyways.”

Her jacket. Yes, she would love her jacket right now. It was a cold night in October, and maybe she’d stop shaking if she felt warm. Maeve hoped he knew that, since she couldn’t say it verbally.

He did. He smiled lightly at her, a little strained at the edges, and he picked up the jacket, gently shaking it out, and rested it on her shoulders, careful to avoid touching her anymore than necessary. Maeve felt herself relax slightly, but her hands still shook and she still felt like she was going to throw up.

God, she hated this. Being treated like a victim. Even though nothing really did happen, all that happened was her shit was stolen and he almost… You know, but still.

“Okay, now that that’s settled, I’ll hold onto your stuff until you feel better, okay?” Nightwing said, still kneeling right in front of her, still very worried about her.

“You know,” he said conversationally, “I know a really good burger place. Right around the corner from here, actually, if you need any recommendations. I usually get the smash burger with everything on it, and then also a vanilla shake. It’s really good, and if you get it with the fries, dipping it in the milkshake makes it ten times better.”

He babbled about everything and anything, and slowly, Maeve felt herself come back into her body. Her hands had stopped shaking, and the tears going down her face also did, as well.

She hadn’t realized that she had sat down, her knees pressed up against her chest until Nightwing sat across from her, his position open and inviting.

“—And then, you would never believe it, as Red Robin and Robin were arguing, they didn’t notice Condiment Man coming up from behind and spraying them with mayonnaise,” Nightwing said, gesticulating wildly. “They had to end their patrol short and Batman forbade them from patrolling for the whole week because of it. You should’ve seen their faces!”

Nightwings smile was infectious, and she found her lips twisting upwards in a small smile. The story wasn’t that funny, honestly, but he was trying to make her feel better. And she really did appreciate it.

Maeve opened her mouth, like she was going to say something, but all that came out was garbled nonsense. She felt her cheeks tingle with embarrassment, and she really hoped the floor would just open up and swallow her whole right about now.

“Sorry? What was that?”

Maeve managed to shake her head, and feeling slightly more in her body, she shakily reached a hand out to grip his shoulders, in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. From the furrow of his brows, it was anything but.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice cracking. “Thank you.”

Nightwing smiled, and reached up to grip her hand back. “I’m glad you’re back. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Maeve,” she whispered. 

“Maeve… that’s a nice name,” Nightwing nodded to himself, “oh, and here’s your phone and wallet back. I don’t know if he stole any money from you, but he had fifty dollars in his pocket so I just put it in there.”

Maeve nodded her head in thanks, and decided to not tell him that he only stole five dollars from her. He deserved it, anyways. She let go of his shoulder to grab her things, and put them back into her pocket. She looked up and realized Nightwing had stood up, and he stuck a hand out for her to grab on.

She was reminded earlier of Red Hood helping her up after falling on her ass, but rather than on the mat in a gym surrounded by children and Red Hood, she was in an alleyway with Nightwing and the guy that almost assaulted her passed out.

“You ready?” He asked, and she nodded. She took his hand, and his hand was considerably bigger and warmer than her own. He pulled her up, but her legs had fallen asleep and she stumbled forward. “Woah, careful there. I don’t think you’ll want a mouthful of dirt and blood.”

Maeve snorted, and allowed him to stabilize her until her legs stopped feeling like she was walking on pins and needles. “Yeah, probably not…”

“So, where were you coming from?” He asked, letting go when he saw she was fine.

“Red Hood's Defense Lesson for Dummies 101,” she repeated.

“Red Hood teaches defense lessons?!” He asked, bewildered, before saying in a quieter voice. “Huh, I gotta check in on him more…”

“It’s just for us Crime Alley kids,” Maeve said, before turning to ask him, “why are you here, though? Aren’t you supposed to be in Blüdhaven?”

“That is a good question,” he hummed. “Monthly visit. Gotta check in on the old Bat.”

Maeve nodded, and the two walked in comfortable silence back to her apartment. Nightwing didn’t ask anything more, and neither did Maeve. It was nice to have him at her side, though. Knowing a big, strong vigilante was there to ward away any bad guys that tried again with her.

Her heart gripped a little at the reminder of before, but she stood strong and didn’t let her steps waver.

The walk was short, because again, Maeve only lived a block away from the gym. And it was due to her laziness that she was even in that situation before, that she just had to take a shortcut. She’s never going through that alleyway again. Never. Nope. Even if she’s paid a million dollars she’d take the longest, most arduous way possible.

She stopped before her building, and turned to Nightwing.

“Thank you, again.” Maeve said, twisting her fingers together.

“It’s no problem, kid,” Nightwing said, smiling softly at her. He patted her on the head, messing up her hair as he did so. She gently swatted him away but he took no offense to it. “Have a nice night, Maeve.”

“You too, Nightwing.” She said back, and she watched him finger salute at her, took a step back, and then fired his grappling hook to a nearby rooftop. She followed him with her eyes until he was gone and…

Maeve practically ran into her building, to the elevator, and then squealed once the doors shut.

She just met Nightwing! The first Robin! The Richard Grayson! Her favorite character and favorite vigilante! It was like a dream come true!

Maeve never thought she’d meet him in this world, as his main place of work was in Blüdhaven, but here he is. In Park Row. Saving her. She giggled happily, her fingers coming back up to twist themselves around the strings of her jacket.

“No way,” she murmured happily to herself, pacing back and forth in the small space. “ No way!”

Once the doors opened again, she practically skipped to her apartment, unlocked it, and made a beeline to her Grammy who sat on the couch with Steve Harvey playing on the television, some family game show or whatever. Her Grammy was obsessed with him.

“Grammy! You’re never gonna believe who I just met!”

Chapter Text

“Your presence is being requested at the Batcave, Nightwing.” Came Oracle's modulated voice, and Nightwing sighed as he finished up zip tying the mugger.

“Alright. I’ll be there in twenty,” Nightwing said, “and also, let the police know I have someone tied up here in Crime Alley in front of the Batburger.”

“On it.” Came Oracle's reply, and then a few seconds of silence, “they’ll be there in five.”

Nightwing threw his grappling hook, and he was off the ground and running on rooftops in seconds. “So, O, what does the old Bat want from me?”

“He didn’t say,” came her reply, and then she sighed. “But if I were to guess, it’d have to do with the recent missing persons cases.”

“Oh?” Nightwing huffed, doing a flip in the air and landing on his feet on the opposite roof, “and he needs my help with it?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you much because I really don’t know much more than that, but there has been an uptick in missing persons in the last month,” Oracle said wearily, like she was in her eighties and not her late twenties, “all children. And we now have a reason to suspect they are all related. But right now, that is the only connection we have.”

Nightwings eyes narrowed, his pulse spiking. He always hated it when children were involved. He saw his bike in the distance and sped up. The faster he gets to the Cave, the more information Batman would have for him. “What are the age ranges?”

“Infancy to teenagers.”

“And B still hasn’t figured it out?!” Nightwing's voice raised despite himself, swinging onto his bike and roaring it back to life. He felt the familiar anger that plagued him creep up his throat, and he tried his best to quell it because it wasn’t O’s fault. Not really. “There are literal babies missing and I’m just now learning about this?”

“Calm down, Nightwing,” O said, but her voice was also tense with underlined stress. The case was getting to her, and that is never good. “We didn’t want to alert you yet because before we didn’t have any reason to suspect they are linked in any way, but Red Robin found something.”

Nightwing huffed as he swerved through another car, making his way back to the Cave. Lucky for him, it was almost three in the morning so there was no one out on the roads, so it was an easy ride.

“And what do you need my help with, exactly? Is it just in Gotham, or also Blüdhaven?” Nightwing asked, gripping the handles a little bit more viciously. If it did leak into Blüdhaven, then he hadn't noticed.

He had been too busy with Wally lately, and also trying to spend more time with his family, and also going to work, and also being on call for the Titans. Nightwing has been busy, and he really wouldn’t put it past him to overlook a missing persons case.

But, damnit, these were kids . His heart will always have a soft place for them, and if there was a case going on that involved the kidnapping of children? He would never be able to live with it, knowing that he had failed to protect his people.

He was just… So busy, and Wally couldn’t help him much recently as ever since he had taken up the Flash mantle, so he was really on his own. Of course, he’d have Oracle help him here and there, but it was mainly just Nightwing. Bludhavens sole Protector.

“For right now, it’s just in Gotham,” O said, and despite himself, Nightwing felt himself relax slightly, “but we need your help. Look, I can’t talk much more on it until B tells you more. He’s keeping this very under wraps, and I just know the barebones of it. He wants us all to find out at the same time, that dramatic bastard.”

“Okay,” Nightwing said, “thank you, Babs.”

“No real names in the field, N.”

Nightwing chuckled, and the tension he was feeling subsided, just for a little bit. He turned his bike down a familiar road, and just up ahead he could see the Cave.

“I’m almost there.”

“Okay, I’ll let them know. Red Hood should be just behind you as well."

“They didn’t tell Hood yet?” Nightwing asked, speeding down the windy path and through the entrance of the Cave. “He isn’t going to like that.”

“No, he isn’t,” Oracle agreed, “I just do what the Bat tells me to do.”

“I know, O,” he stopped his bike next to the Batmobile, kicking up the stand and turning it off. He left the keys inside the ignition, as he found no need to take it with him. “Alright, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Try not to kill anybody, alright?”

Nightwing snorted before he could stop himself, “don’t need to tell me that.” And then he cut out, turning off his comm.

Just as he did, he heard Red Hood pull up inside, and then parked right next to him. 

“You got the call too?” Red Hood asked, taking off his helmet and resting it under his arm. Nightwing couldn’t see his eyes, as he still had his red domino mask on, but he could see his sweaty hair, sticking to the sides of his face.

Nightwing nodded, leaning against his bike. “Yeah, you know what it’s about?”

“No,” Red Hood sighed, shaking out his hair before taking the lead and going to where the others were already, “O was oddly secretive.”

“Hm,” Nightwing hummed, following after him. “Well, besides that, I actually heard something interesting.”

“From O?”

“No, from another little birdie.” Nightwing grinned, and if could see through his lens, he would probably be rolling his eyes. “You teach defense lessons to Crime Alley children?”

Red Hood stopped in his steps and turned around to glare at him, “how do you know that?”

“I helped a girl, earlier tonight,” Nightwing started, “couldn’t have been older than fourteen, maybe Dami’s age. A mugger tried to steal her things, I got there before anything else could happen. I walked her home when she felt better, and that’s when she told me she was coming back from your defense lessons.”

Red Hood stood frozen, his fists tightening. “Maeve? Is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s okay. I didn’t leave until she walked into her apartment building,” Nightwing said seriously. “Just a little startled, if anything.”

“You beat the bastard up good, right?” Red Hood asked tensely. “I don’t gotta go back and teach him a lesson?”

“No, I took care of him,” Nightwing said seriously, “after I made sure she was inside, I went back and knocked him around a few more times. I don’t think he’ll try again in this lifetime.”

“Good,” Red Hood nodded, and then cracked a small, sarcastic smile. “Don’t let Batsy hear about that. He’d think you're turning out like me.”

“Don’t say that, Jason,” Nightwing shoved his shoulder. “I thought things were getting better.”

Jason snorted, turning around to continue walking. Nightwing followed. “You’re barely here, Dick.”

“I know,” Dick said, hesitantly. “And I’m sorry. It’s just—“

“Things are busy, it's alright,” he said, “no harm, no foul. You’re, what, almost thirty now? And engaged to Wally, and helping out with shit here and off world. Shit’s been busy. I get it.”

Dick blushed at the mention of his fiancée, “stop it. I know I’ve been distant, I’m gonna try to visit more, okay?”

Jason didn’t say anything more regarding that, instead he groaned, like he had just realized something. “Shit, today was her first lesson too.”

“Poor thing,” Dick said, deciding to not mention the harsh subject change, and then a cheshire grin started to rise upon his face. “As long as she’s training with you, I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

“I’m hearing a but .”

“ But , I would also like to see the lessons you are teaching,” Dick grinned. “It would be fun! Teaching the children of the younger generation to defend themselves, help them not turn to villainy when they're older.”

Jason groaned, “if I say no you’re just gonna do it anyways, aren’t you?”

“Yep!” Dick popped the ‘p’. “Also, wouldn’t it be fun to teach alongside each other? You do defense techniques, I do the more fun and lighter things.”

“Fine,” he said, rolling his shoulders back. “Maeve did say she wanted to learn some flashy moves. That’ll be your job, then. If she even comes back.”

“I haven’t taught gymnastics in a while,” Dick said conversationally. “I’ll have to create lesson plans, go over foundations…”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Big Bird,” Jason grumbled, seemingly unhappy with their new arrangements. But, Dick knew better. He knew his little brother like the back of his hand, nothing from Jason can be kept from him for long, not even his prickly exterior is enough to deter him. “Who knows, maybe she’ll like me better.”

“We’ll just have to see, huh?” Dick said, and their conversation was cut short by the tense faces of their family hovering around the Batcomputer when they finally came upon it. Even Duke was awake and down there, in his pajamas and red eyed.

Dick’s mask slipped back on, and his shoulders rolled back, like a soldier standing at attention. He stepped up and passed Red Hood, who had also tensed up, “what’s wrong?”

“Just waiting for you two to show up,” Red Robin said, the one sitting in the massive chair before the computer. He took a sip of his energy drink, swatting away Duke’s hand mindlessly that came down to grab at it.

“Nightwing, Red Hood,” Batman greeted from behind Red Robin, his arms crossed and his muscles tensed. After years of being by his side, Nightwing could tell when something was up. And obviously, Batman was upset. “Red Robin, is Oracle on the other side?”

Red Robin's hands glided across the keyboard for a few seconds before he nodded, “yes, she can hear us and is ready.”

Batman nodded, and the tense atmosphere returned tenfold. Spoiler and Black Bat stood back, their whispering cut off to listen to Batman. Robin also leaned against the wall, alert and ready, his hands subconsciously resting over his katana.

Red Hood came closer and took a seat in an open chair, crossing his legs. Nightwing decided to rest upon the ledge of the Batcomputer, glancing down at the screen and giving a little wave to Oracle.

“Let’s begin.”