Chapter Text
After the revelations on the Watchtower, the Bats had quickly moved Project Nightingale back to the top of their active case list, with only the Paris situation above it.
Dick in particular had thrown himself into the investigation with an almost manic determination; having been the only one other than Damian to actually meet Nightingale on that rooftop—to see firsthand the way she had broken in that last moment just before leaving—the thought that he had chased a grieving younger sister away from her family and out of the city had hit him hard.
It hadn’t helped that he’d apparently gone to talk to Power Girl in more depth right after the meeting and had learned that her reality’s Batman had gone missing in the timestream as well, which had led to the same sort of bonding between the twins and Dick in that world as Damian and Dick had experienced in this one. The final breaking point was when Power Girl had mentioned that Amari’s vigilante name and the blue elements of her costume had been chosen specifically to honor Dick as Nightwing, since Damian was carrying on his legacy as Robin.
After that, the first Robin was like a man possessed in his determination to find their possible sister.
A small part of Damian thought they ought to have involved Power Girl in the investigation, but his father had disagreed. Though not from the usual Bat paranoia, this time; he’d seen the depth of grief in the eyes of the alternate Kara. Telling her that Amari might have survived, giving her hope, only to potentially take it away again… the others all said it would be cruel, even if not intentionally so.
Damian wasn’t certain he agreed, but it wasn’t a fight he intended to have. Instead, he backed away from the investigation and offered to tend to Alfred as needed, fetching whatever might be needed while their almost-grandfather finished recovering from his illness. Since his father still refused to allow Alfred off of bed-rest yet.
(Damian did hope that would change soon. If for no other reason than that absolutely no one else in the house was competent in the kitchen, and everyone else seemed content to order from the same take-out place every single night.)
The other Bats seemed to think that Damian wasn’t taking as active a role in their efforts any longer because he must have conflicted feelings about another ‘blood child’—even one from an alternate universe. But in actual fact, whether they could technically be considered twins or not, Damian very much wanted to find and meet his sister.
No, he was leaving Project Nightingale to the others because he had an investigation of his own to conduct. One that he was now going to seek help with, because taking the next step without someone backing him would be needlessly careless. Doubtless he would not need the backup, but it was still better safe than sorry, as the answers to his questions might be… emotionally charged.
Which was why he found himself seeking out his immediate predecessor as Robin early one afternoon.
“Drake.” Damian moved to lean against the desk at which Tim had ensconced himself, briefly giving a disdainful look to the three empty coffee mugs. “I require your aid.”
“And hello to you, too.” Tim pushed his chair back just enough to turn and look at the younger Bat. “Dare I ask what with?”
Damian scowled. “I have certain suspicions I am not ready to share with father, so I am conducting my own investigation in parallel to Project Nightingale. I now require information, and know who I have to ask. But I am… concerned with what the reaction may be.”
“…and you want backup with whatever this is, hm?” Tim reached for one of the coffee mugs, his expression falling when he realized it was empty. “Alright, walk me through it.”
“There are… things I am beginning to piece together. Dim memories I never gave any credence to before. And with what Power Girl said about counterparts...” Damian trailed off, suddenly finding it was every bit as hard as he had feared to put into words the dark suspicion that had been growing in him ever since the Watchtower.
“You think the reason Nightingale would have been rewritten is that Amari did exist here once, even if she doesn’t now.” Tim’s voice had turned somber. “I’m right, aren’t I? Either way, that’s the conclusion I’ve come to. Maybe in this world she died in training when you two were too young for you to remember clearly, or got sick as an inf—”
“I think grandfather had her killed.” Damian cut across Tim’s words, not wanting to hear all the other potential ways he might have lost the twin he hadn’t even known—or maybe simply hadn’t remembered—that he had. “On the Watchtower, Power Girl mentioned that Nightingale had a natural talent for magic, and had once said that grandfather knowing she did was the only reason he let her live past our fourth birthday.”
“Shit.” Tim ran a hand through his already-mussed hair. “Yeah... yeah, I could see that. Ra’s being concerned that someone might take her to use against his ‘perfect heir’ or something and deciding a ‘mere girl’ was expendable, if he didn’t know she had the potential to be a useful tool as a mage.” He paused, turning to stare at Damian. “You want to ask Talia, don’t you. And the fact that you want backup means you want to do it in person.”
Damian didn’t bother to deny it.
“Fuck.” When Damian seemed about to explain, Tim waved him off. “No, I get it. Even if she tries to lie, seeing her in person... there will be little tells. But why me as backup?”
“Tt, you are the most suited for it. Father, Todd, or even Cassandra would bring too much baggage associated with her or the League in general to be clear-headed. Father especially, considering the questions I will be asking. Richard, Brown, and Thomas lack the personal experience with mother to be able to read her well. You know the League, and mother, and...” Damian shifted his weight uneasily. “I am not ready to admit my suspicion to the others yet, not without proof. But you are the best detective among us, and I assumed you would have drawn the same conclusions already.”
“Well, you were right.” Tim reached for a different one of the coffee mugs, frowning when he realized that one was empty as well. “And I finished with some satellite footage of Paris during that last attack that the Paris kids asked for. So there’s no more real prep or support I can give them from here for now. So I’d be glad to ignore whatever the hell it is the others are doing with Project Nightingale that doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere and help you with this. Do you have anything else to go on?”
“Not yet. But as Nightingale had some sort of tech or magic—likely magic, we now know—to blur her image on the footage we took that night, I’ve been trying to draw her from the memory that Power Girl shared. That way, I have a good reference image to work from. Her face could be clearly seen in that.” Damian paused, and then admitted, “Drawing her in costume was easy; the memory was… rather vivid. Unfortunately, her eyes were hidden behind her mask, and I am uncertain how to draw them in trying to sketch what her civilian persona would look like.”
“Hm. Well, we can work on that later. When were you planning to contact Talia?”
Damian paused. “I may have assumed your aid would be given, and already contacted her. She said she had other business in the area, and so will meet me near the docks tonight.”
“Tonight?” Tim groaned, clearly trying not to think too hard about what ‘other business’ the woman might have in the general Gotham area. “Fine. I hate that I’m saying this, but I’m not going to face down Talia while I’m this tired. So I’m going to go take…” He pushed himself up out of his computer chair with a grimace, as though he had tasted something sour. “…a nap.”
As Damian’s expression turned thoughtful, Tim’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you even think about setting up other last-minute things to try to force me to sleep. I’ve got too much stuff to do; this is a one-time thing.”
“Tt. As if I would bother to manipulate you in that way,” scoffed Damian, not about to admit that he had in fact been considering exactly that.
Tim gave him a skeptical look and then, with a weary sigh, made his way over to the lift back up to the mansion proper.
❖
Robin was trying his best not to fidget while he waited. It would have been undignified. But he felt more nervous than he had expected to. For all that he was almost certain in his suspicions, there was still a vast gulf between thinking and knowing.
He shifted position to spread his legs very sightly and clasp his hands together behind his back, standing in a military at-ease posture; it helped keep the fidgeting at bay. Red Robin was nearby, but giving him space. Robin appreciated that.
As keyed-up as he was, he almost jumped when he heard the soft footsteps as his mother joined them on the roof. Instead he offered her a cool nod. “Mother. I see you look well.”
“You have grown since I last saw you. And I see you have the young detective with you.” For a long moment after that, neither spoke. In the end, it was Talia who broke the silence. “With company like that, I do not expect you have asked me here to say you will be returning to my side.”
“Tt, no. I will be remaining with father. Even if I did not wish to remain with him, I would not return to the league while my aunt draws breath.” All of them were silent for a moment; none had forgiven Nyssa’s attempt to clone Damian as a puppet heir she could control the league through, to have her ‘Heretic’ kill Damian, and to try to drive Damian and his mother further apart by framing Talia for it. They all knew that with Ra’s gone the league now stood on the edge of outright civil war, everyone waiting to see which of the al Ghul daughters would blink first.
Rather than speak about Nyssa, Talia simply waited expectantly for her son to explain.
But Robin found now that his mother was right here in front of him, it was harder to put the question into words than he’d thought it would be. “There is something I have been seeking to clarify from when I was very young.”
“Oh? And what is that?” Talia regarded her son with curiosity.
He hesitated, then decided to just rip the bandage off all at once. “Amari.”
Talia flinched.
It was small, so subtle that it would be hard to spot if Robin had not already been watching for it carefully. And from the way Red Robin’s gaze sharpened, he knew that he wasn’t the only one to notice.
“I’m not certain who or what that is su—”
Talia’s choice to lie to his face sparked a dull rage somewhere inside Robin’s chest. “You taught me to be more observant than that, mother. Did you think your own reaction wouldn’t betray you? Tell me about my sister.”
For the first time he could remember, Robin watched as his mother seemed to crumble. She’d always seemed immortal and unassailable to him, but now she looked diminished. Weary.
Human.
“I did not think you remembered her.” When Talia finally spoke, it was much more quietly. “I tried so hard to make sure you would not. To erase any trace of her from our lives.”
“Why? Why wouldn’t you want me to remember her?” That dull rage was growing sharp. Hot. Like a newly-forged blade he wanted to metaphorically put into her heart. To make her hurt the way he currently was. Yes, she was his mother, and yes she was clearly in pain… but she remembered his twin sister. Something she’d chosen to deny him for some reason.
Talia said nothing in her own defense. “How much do you truly recall?”
“I have a dim childhood memory of crying because my moon had been taken from me. I thought it some foolish toddler delusion; the moon is where it has always been. But when I became aware of certain things...”
Talia closed her eyes. “Ah. Something made you realize it was not the moon, but rather a name meaning ‘my moon.’ Amari.”
“Yes.” Robin scowled, that sharp rage growing when no further explanation was forthcoming. “So tell me, mother. You owe me this much.”
“When you two were young, you were inseparable. But your grandfather never cared for her; he considered her a contingency plan at best, since he had his male heir.”
From the comm in his ear, Robin heard Red Robin curse quietly under his breath as their suspicion looked more and more likely.
“Just before the two of you would turn four, I was sent on a mission. When I returned...”
Talia’s voice caught, and a cold wave of unease washed through Robin as he realized that his mother, who never showed weakness, was fighting back tears. The shock alone dimmed the rage somewhat, though did not entirely extinguish it.
No one said anything, and after a little while Talia recovered enough to continue. “While I was away, your grandfather heard of a plot within the League, to steal away your sister to be raised away from his influence. To use her in the future to produce an al Ghul heir of their own for the next generation, a nephew for you who could eventually challenge your claim to leadership of the league. He eliminated those behind the plot, and then decided your sister was a liability. And in my absence he... proceeded as he believed necessary.”
“Do not try to paint it in a better light, mother. He murdered her.” Robin’s tone was dark. “His own granddaughter!”
“You were furious and inconsolable, and refused to follow any of your grandfather’s orders afterwards. He demanded you be taught your place, and said there would be dire consequences if you were not brought to heel. So I had everything that might remind you of her removed. I forbade anyone to speak of her existence. And… I laced your food with traces of Pit water for a short time. Just long enough to addle your memories, so that with nothing to remind you of her you would begin to question what you were mourning, and then forget your loss entirely.”
“You mean, forget her. You stole my sister from me!” Robin felt a new wave of fresh rage flare up, even stronger than before. She hadn’t just taken all traces of his twin sister from their lives, she had actively worked to erase his memories of her. Momentarily unable to find the words to let him wield the metaphorical dagger of his rage, he turned and threw a much more literal dagger at the door to the roof access. It struck hard, embedding itself nearly to the hilt.
Several moments passed before Talia spoke again. “What made you remember?”
Robin chose his words carefully now, sharpening them with intent to wound. “I had a glimpse into an alternate timeline. One where grandfather learned of Amari’s latent talent for magic.”
Talia’s breath caught. “…he learned of her magic?”
Robin dug the blade of his words a little deeper. “Yes, mother. Her magic. Her gift, like your mother had. A gift grandfather always lusted after. So now she was a mage to be trained. A potential magical weapon to be wielded by the league, and to stand at my side when I ruled. Something with value, no longer just a ‘contingency plan’ to be eliminated when she became potentially inconvenient. In that world, we grew up together. And you brought us both to father; as I became Robin, she became Nightingale.”
“You saw her, then, in this other world?” Talia’s voice was little more than a whisper.
Robin’s smile held no warmth. “I saw only one brief moment of that world, but yes. She was there. Imagine my surprise to see that my counterpart there had a twin sister at his side, when I had been raised ‘the only blood child.’ But once I thought about it, it put those faded childhood memories in a much clearer light.”
“And… is she well?”
Robin took that metaphorical blade of his rage and went for the killing blow. “Oh, she was. Until that world was destroyed, and everyone in it was lost. Father. You. Me. Amari.”
Red Robin made a small noise, but did not move to correct him.
“Though, given you did not care that she died here, I do not sup—“
The slap to his cheek left Robin reeling, and he actually had to take a step backwards to keep his balance. The utter shock of it doused the heat of his rage. So when Red Robin immediately stepped forward with his staff in a combat position, ready to give the promised backup, Robin merely raised a hand to forestall any retaliation.
“You have every right to be angry at me, and I will not try to defend myself against that anger; I did what I believed necessary, but I acknowledge it hurt you. “ Talia was virtually incandescent with fury in a way Robin was not certain he’d ever seen his mother become, a sharp contrast to the quiet crumbling of only moments earlier. “But do not dare suggest that I did not mourn your sister. Any true loyalty I had to my father died alongside her, and from then on I was merely going through the motions to shield the one child I did still have from his wrath. I grieved for Amari when I was told of her death, and I have grieved for her every moment of my life since!”
Talia inhaled slowly, and then exhaled again. When she next spoke, her tone was much more controlled. “I have done it quietly, yes. But most of all, Damian, I have done it alone. And I have done it with nothing but one single memento to remember my daughter by. No pictures, no favored toys, because you might find them and have them stir lost memories… only one lock of hair I secretly clipped from your sister’s head before they cremated her tiny body.” A bitter laugh. “Had I been a day later completing my mission, I would not even have that; she would have already been ash scattered to the winds by the time I returned. As it was, I arrived only two hours after he had her ‘eliminated.’”
“Oh.” Red Robin seemingly put something together. “That must be the difference: you arrived earlier in that other timeline. Because you didn’t seem surprised when Robin mentioned her magic.”
Both al Ghuls turned to look at him as though they’d forgotten he was even there, but it was Talia who finally spoke. “I knew, yes. I had kept her nascent gift secret from my father, fearing he would see only a tool and hand her over to Nyssa for training.” Then she closed her eyes. “But if I had arrived earlier, before he killed her… I would have revealed her gift without hesitation, if I believed doing so meant she would live.”
“Then Red Robin is likely correct. In that world, she said that knowing of her magic was the only reason her grandfather let her live past her fourth birthday. This must be what she meant.” Robin closed his eyes, his rage spent. All he felt now was a sort of aching grief for something he couldn’t truly remember. But maybe, he reflected, he’d always known that something was missing. Even if he hadn’t known what. “I envy you, mother. You can remember her.”
After a moment, Talia quietly moved to rest a hand on her son’s head. “I only took her from you because I was afraid you would continue to defy your grandfather, and he would eventually have had you killed as well. But I also envy you,” she admitted quietly. “I would give a great deal for even as brief a glimpse of your sister as you say you had.”
Robin wasn’t ready to tell his mother about the suspicion that Amari had survived the end of that world, and was quite probably now out there somewhere in this one. Not yet. But this, he could give her. He reached into his utility belt and removed a folded piece of paper, holding it out like a peace offering. “I did not see her out of costume, but…”
Talia took the paper almost hesitantly, unfolding it. As she saw the image of Nightingale laid out on the page, her breath caught. Fingertips gently traced the sketched curve of the girl’s cheek. “She grew up well. There’s so much of your father in her.”
“From what I saw, I think there’s a lot of you as well,” Robin offered, his mind drawing parallels between Talia mourning her daughter in silence and the broken-sounding promise Nightingale made that the Bats wouldn’t see her again. Mother and daughter, each quietly trying to take all the pain onto themselves simply because they believed it would protect the ones they cared about. “In a good way. Though I admit, I would not have thought so before tonight.”
Talia gazed at the sketch in silence for a moment longer, as though trying to burn the image into her memories. Finally, she sighed. “I must leave. I dare not leave things unattended too long, lest my sister make a move.” Having said this, she quietly folded the paper back up and offered it to her son almost reluctantly.
Robin shook his head. “Keep it. I can draw another, and… perhaps you should have a second thing to remember her by.”
Talia paused, then nodded once before placing the paper into a hidden pocket as gently as though it were a sacred relic.
As he watched her vanish silently into the night, Robin realized that perhaps for his mother—their mother—it might be exactly that.