Chapter Text
Alicia stretched her arms upward, trying to reach the colorful ball resting on one of the boxes in the back. It was her favorite toy—the one that used to roll between the feet of Zika, the best elephant in the world.
Zika always greeted her with a gentle trumpet and waved her trunk as if inviting her to play, but that morning her giant companion was at the far end of the camp, being washed by the caretakers.
“Just a little more…” Alicia murmured, standing on her tiptoes.
She knew she shouldn’t be doing it. Mom always told her to call Dad or Dickie whenever she needed to reach something high. But the three of them were rehearsing for the big show that night, and she didn’t want to interrupt.
“I’ll just climb up quickly and get down just as fast,” she thought with a determined smile.
She placed one box on top of another, testing their stability with her small hands. The wood creaked slightly, but Alicia ignored the sound. Carefully, she climbed up to the second box, stretching her arm toward the shiny ball that seemed so close.
“Almost… almost got it…”
The edge of the bottom box gave way with a sharp crack.Alicia barely had time to let out a small cry before her whole world spun. The thud against the ground echoed hollowly, and pain shot through her head like a wave.
The ball rolled slowly until it stopped beside her motionless hand.
The sounds of the circus went on as if nothing had happened: animals huffing, ropes tightening, the murmur of performers filling the air. But Alicia no longer heard it.
Silence wrapped around her.
The bus rattled with the city’s vibration.
Lili held onto one of the metal bars, her bag hanging from her shoulder and her phone secure in her other hand. The notification email had arrived less than five minutes ago: “InkpotSprite has updated You Can Swear in My Hoard.”
A Batfamily fanfic. Her weakness.
Lili’s heart skipped a little beat.
Between work, grad school, and house chores, reading fanfics was her refuge—her moment of calm. At twenty-seven, she had learned that happiness didn’t always come from big things, but from small rituals: an afternoon coffee, a good story, and an unexpected update.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and opened the new chapter. The story was funny and sweet, just how she liked it—Tim being an adorable kid, Dick rocking his little brothers to sleep, Damian the proud little bat, Bruce trying to stay composed amid the chaos. Lili let out a quiet laugh, not caring about the curious looks from other passengers.
Sometimes, in the middle of traffic noise and endless to-do lists, those characters reminded her she could still laugh.
The bus screeched to a stop, and she got off, adjusting her bag strap. She only had to walk a few blocks to the office. The morning sun glinted gold off the shop windows, and Lili kept smiling, still immersed in the fanfic’s dialogue.
Then she saw him.
A little boy, no older than four, running after a red ball that rolled toward the street. The light had just turned green. A car was speeding up.
Instinct moved faster than thought.
She didn’t think. She acted.
Lili ran.
The hit to her head was the last thing she felt.
When Lili woke up, her head throbbed as if it would split in two. She tried to sit up and mumbled something about the boy, but her voice sounded strange. Looking around in confusion, she realized she wasn’t in a hospital, but inside a small tent lit by daylight filtering through the draped entrance and tiny windows.
And her hands… were tiny.
Panic set in. She stumbled out of bed and realized the world had either grown larger—or she had shrunk. She looked around until her gaze landed on a full-length mirror, and what she saw made her scream.
The reflection staring back wasn’t hers. It was a little girl—no older than six—with black hair and blue eyes.
The curtain flew open, and a young man and woman rushed in, followed by a boy about ten.
“Ali!” the woman exclaimed, hugging her tightly. “Sweetheart, you scared us!”
“Dick, go get Doctor Miller,” the man ordered firmly.
The world kept spinning even as Alicia—or Lili, or whoever she was now—couldn’t process what was happening.
The doctor, a man with a neat mustache and a chalk-dusted white coat, checked her reflexes while her parents whispered nearby—not quietly enough for her not to hear.
“It was just a small bump,” the woman said, a mix of relief and nerves in her tone. “She fell trying to reach a ball.”
“Mary, I already told you we’re putting those boxes lower,” the man replied, arms crossed. “I don’t want this happening again.”
“John, not now, please…”
The doctor cleared his throat gently, interrupting.
“Alicia just needs rest. No signs of serious concussion. But if she becomes disoriented again, call me immediately.”
Alicia blinked.
Mary? John?
Alicia?
The name echoed in her mind over and over.
Then she heard small footsteps—the boy returning, the one who had run out before. He was about ten, maybe older, with dark hair and bright blue eyes—just like hers, and like the man’s, John.
“Is Ali okay?” he asked, his tone filled with genuine worry.
“Yes, Dick, your little sister will be fine,” Mary said softly, stroking his hair. “Just a scare.”
Dick.
The name hit her like a bucket of ice water.
Her breathing quickened.
John. Mary. Dick. Circus.
The words snapped together like the pieces of a grim puzzle.
The doctor left, followed by Haly—the circus owner, according to what she overheard—who came by after Doctor Miller to check that “little Ali” was okay. But she wasn’t listening anymore. Her mind was racing.
John and Mary Grayson.
Dick Grayson.
Haly’s Circus.
It couldn’t be.
It couldn’t be happening.
“This isn’t real, this can’t be real,” she repeated silently, again and again, until the lump in her throat turned into a nervous laugh.
And before anyone could react, she slapped herself as hard as she could.
“Alicia!” Mary cried, startled.
The doctor dropped his bag, and Haly nearly choked on his pipe.
Alicia felt the sting on her cheek and the pounding in her ears.
She didn’t wake up.
The world of tents, fabrics, and distant circus laughter didn’t vanish.
“Shit…” she whispered, in the trembling voice of a six-year-old girl—but with the soul of a twenty-seven-year-old woman who had just realized she was inside the damn Batman universe.
Everyone stared at her, horrified. Dick especially, wide-eyed.
“Ali…” he murmured, confused. “Mom, Dad… she said a bad word.”
Mary covered her mouth. John looked at her, torn between worry and disbelief.
But Alicia didn’t see any of that.