FIC: Do I Know You?
Title: Do I Know You?
Continuity: DC Comics New 52
Characters: Batman, Robin(Damian), Huntress
Summary: Bruce Wayne meets a mysterious young lady hiding a very personal secret.
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 3200
Note: References events from Earth 2 #1
Bruce Wayne casually circulated through the gala crowd at a Monte Carlo hotel. He joined in on a terrible joke here or a flirtation there, all part of connecting with the upper crust. Suddenly he heard a particular high-pitched giggle and mentally braced himself for Vanessa Stoughton, who didn't take polite brush-offs well. It was a mixed blessing that the Star City heiress had recently gotten engaged; now instead of trying to hang on his arm all night, she was pointedly introducing him to every unattached female she could lay her hands on
He glanced in the direction of the giggle and sure enough, there was her platinum head weaving through the crowd straight towards him. Bruce shifted his cocktail to his left hand and half-turned to meet Vanessa as she broke free of the pack, towing a young dark haired woman with her.
“Surprise!” Vanessa trilled, “Helena, this is Bruce Wayne! I can't believe you've never met, you being from Gotham and all! This is just kismet, a perfect moment to get to know each other!”
Vanessa was still blathering, her hand firmly on the small of the other woman's back, encouraging her forward, but Bruce wasn't listening. His hand was half extended, but his smile faltered at the look on her face. Bruce was used to women being flirtatious, obsequious, timid, nervous, predatory and even occasionally just coolly friendly, but this was new.
She was absolutely horror-stricken. Her blue eyes widened, her whole body tensed as if for flight.
For one frozen moment, Bruce frantically wondered what he could have done to make this beautiful woman panic at the sight of him. Then the expression vanished, and she stepped forward, calmly extending her hand.
“Lovely to meet you, Mr. Wayne. Helena Bertinelli.” Her voice held no trace of the emotion of a moment ago.
“The pleasure is mine. Please, call me Bruce.” He pressed his lips lightly to the back of her hand, and her hand tensed ever so slightly, as if to pull away. “Are you all right, Helena?”
She laughed. “Of course, I'm sorry, you just... reminded me of someone for a moment.” She was laughing, she was calm, why did he suspect she was still close to panic?
“I am beginning to suspect he wasn't someone you liked. Please allow me to make it up to you on his behalf.” He raised his glass to signal a roving waiter.
“Oh no, Mr. Wayne, I couldn't. I really have to-”
“Helena!” Vanessa broke in, “Don't be rude to Bruce! Let's all have a drink.” She nudged the other woman closer with her shoulder.
Vanessa nattered on about mutual friends as they sipped martinis, and Helena mostly just listened politely. She looked vaguely awkward whenever Bruce tried to pay her a flirtatious compliment, so finally he fell to studying her profile discreetly. Bertinelli... There had been a crime syndicate in Gotham run by the Bertinellis before the Falcones moved in, but this young lady was probably too young to have more than maybe an old familial tie there. Although, a child of criminals being suddenly faced with Batman could explain some of her behavior. How would she know his identity, though? She was a mystery. She looked oddly familiar, actually, but he couldn't place her.
Vanessa finally drifted off to speak with another friend, with a glance at Helena that clearly directed her to stay and attempt to charm the billionaire.
“Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry to have taken up your time,” Helena said with another politely empty smile, “Vanessa is very insistent.”
“Helena, she said you were from Gotham. Do I know you? I'm terribly sorry if we've met before and I've forgotten...” He trailed off because while her smile stayed frozen, her eyes had shifted. There was something pained there, all of a sudden.
She swallowed. “Do you know me?” she echoed lightly. “No, Mr. Wayne. We've never met. Have a nice evening.”
Bruce watched the raven-haired woman move off into the crowd.
* * *
Bruce saw Helena across a room a bit later in the evening, and she had been flirting and conversing with ease. Maybe that had been the truth, that he had only reminded her of someone else. He made a mental note to check up on her later, just to be sure.
Putting her out of his thoughts, he returned to working the crowd. He was only half here for an official social appearance. He was also listening for leads on a series of high-profile robberies in the area that he suspected were linked to a smuggling ring which was also involved with weapon sales. The art thieves were probably the weak link in the organization, so here he was, looking for clues among the idle rich.
He was beginning to think the night was a wash when his phone went off. He pulled it out, the text just read “TROUBLE WITH ROOM SERVICE.”
Bruce quickly made his excuses and went back to his suite.
* * *
He eased the door open and slipped inside. The lights were off, but a decent amount of light from the street glanced in through the windows between the blinds. The door to the balcony was half-open. Out of line of sight from the door, but in the main sitting room, Damian sat scowling in the dim light. Across from him, a woman sat on the floor, leaning against a chair. Her hands and feet were tied, she was gagged with what he hoped was a clean sock, and she was wearing a purple and black costume.
The two glared vicious daggers at each other, then two sets of piercing blue eyes looked up in unison. Bruce blinked, he was surprised to note Damian had a reddening mark along the side of his face, and held one wrist stiffly. As he came closer and sat down, Bruce became certain that the young woman was Helena, from earlier.
“Well, this is a surprise,” he managed. “Are you both alright?”
Helena looked away. Damian sputtered, “That woman was trying to break into our room!”
Bruce sighed and mildly said, “And you didn't call the police.”
“Of course not, they couldn't ask her the right questions!”
Helena snorted from the floor.
Bruce noted a pile of tools on the table, mostly in black and purple: lockpicks, various gadgets, mini-camera, smoke pellets, grapple, folding crossbow. Bruce picked this last up, looked at it. “I've heard of you. Huntress, right?”
Helena nodded, just barely.
“Alright. Well, then maybe we should ask Huntress why she's here, seeing as she didn't skewer you with this,” he lifted the crossbow again.
Damian scoffed, “Like she could hit me.”
All at once, Helena flowed up from the floor to standing, pulling out the gag. Bruce raised an eyebrow, he hadn't noticed when she'd gotten out of the knots. “Please. You couldn't dodge a softball!”
Damian leapt toward her. “You arrogant bitch! How dare you break in here-” anything else he was about to say was cut off as Huntress's foot connected with his stomach.
Bruce stepped back, but watched carefully. Helena was playing a defensive game, which was smart against Damian's barely-controlled power. She blocked several strikes in a row before seizing an opening for a quick throw.
They closed again in silence, Huntress staying on the defense once more. Damian was getting frustrated, it showed in his eyes, but Helena was... relaxing? She was almost smiling, and she certainly looked more engaged than she had at the party downstairs. Damian pressed the attack, there was a flurry of motion, and Helena sailed across the room, landing hard enough to rattle the pictures on the walls. He stood ready for another assault, but she pushed herself only to sitting, and just started to laugh.
“Oh, kid,” she gasped, “I can't even hate you. You're so lost.” She was still laughing, but her eyes glinted oddly in the indirect light, and her laughter was tinged with hysteria.
Bruce put a hand heavily on Damian's shoulder to forestall another angry outburst. “Huntress,” he asked quietly, “Who are you?”
“Nobody,” she gasped, caught between laughter and tears, “I'm nobody.”
“I somehow don't think that's true.” He paused for a moment to let her recover a bit. “Alright, why did you break into my hotel suite.”
She took a deep steadying breath. “I... just wanted to know why you were here. If you're after the arms deal, I might have some info for you. I took down part of a connected group not long ago.”
“Arms dealers.”
“Well, mine were mostly in human trafficking...”
Bruce raised an eyebrow at her. “Why would I be interested in arms dealers?”
She snorted, then sighed. “Really? After playtime with Junior there, you want to play it that way?” He was silent. “Yeah, it was stupid of me to come here. I should have tried to meet you on the job if I wanted to work with you.” She added brusquely, “Which I don't,” although Bruce thought it sounded a bit like she was arguing with someone who wasn't present.
“You think you know something,” Bruce said at last, “How did you come by this alleged information?”
She just shook her head.
“Someone told her,” Damian hissed, “Security breach.”
“I'm sorry, I can't tell you. I shouldn't even be here. I can't...” she broke off, standing up.
She moved to the table to collect her things, and Damian twitched under Bruce's steady hand. “Father!” he protested.
“Huntress,” Bruce said, “if you have information for someone, maybe you could try in three hours, on the roof of the Oceanographic Museum.”
She stowed her gear quickly, then turned toward Bruce and paused, searching his eyes for something. But without a word, she turned again, went to the balcony, and was gone.
“Why did you let her go!” Damian exclaimed.
“I wasn't just making conversation about her crossbow. She didn't shoot you, and I'm betting she didn't even try.” Bruce got his answer from Damian's scowl and downward glance. “She didn't get any information here that she didn't walk in with, but I'll learn more about her this way.”
Damian rolled his eyes, but Bruce went into the bedroom and his secreted equipment. He still had time to do that background check and maybe catch a bit more of the party before he'd have to head across the bay to meet with Huntress.
* * *
Bruce swung up onto the highest part of the Oceanographic Museum three hours later. Even if Huntress didn't show, he could get some work done. He'd been planning to come here anyway; it had a great view of the coast if you had the right equipment. Although, from the quiet scrape he heard from the shadow of the ventilation system, he probably wasn't alone.
“Huntress.”
She eased into the moonlight. “Batman.”
“I understand you might have some information on the weapons circuit that runs through here?”
She nodded shortly. “A couple addresses of storage facilities, a message drop point.” She stepped forward, looking over his equipment, her eyes tracing the edge of each piece of armor.
“You'll understand if I don't just take your word that your information is good.”
“It is.”
“Even so.”
She held herself in a sort of tense stillness, neither moving forward or back. Then she thrust out a hand with a slip of paper. “Here. You can have it. Do what you want.”
He gently took the paper, tucked it away. “Didn't you want to be part of the investigation?”
“No. I can't... can't work with you.”
“Are you working against me, Huntress?”
“No!” She actually looked shocked and stricken at that, so much that he was inclined to believe her.
New tactic, he decided. “If I checked your fingerprints against the birth records of Helena Bertinelli, what do you think I'd find?”
She smirked. “A match.”
“And would it look like those records had been tampered with?” he asked, knowing the answer was yes. She shrugged. Bruce sighed. “I don't trust you, Huntress, but I want to. Why? I feel like I've met you somewhere.”
“Damn you,” she muttered. Then she raised her voice. “Damn you for not being an utter bastard. Damn you for caring about that idiot child who can't keep his identities straight. You even give a damn about a girl you met only tonight! Damn you for being...” her voice broke. She took a breath, then glanced back up, eyes filled with fury now. “Maybe I should. Work against you. I could. God, I could. Why not. It's not like I...” With a yell, she launched herself at him.
He deflected her, automatically at first, but as she focused past her anger, they began to fight in earnest. Bruce was concerned at first how to take her down without really hurting her, but soon he realized that she was quite good, Damian wasn't just having an off day.
Her moves were odd, though. She anticipated his strikes casually, easily, almost before he'd decided to move. Her moves in turn seemed to connect naturally with his blocks, as if they'd sparred before. Neither one of them could land a hit, as if it were a planned routine, a dance. That was what was so odd about fighting her, it came to him suddenly: it was like fighting a mirror. Not absolutely, of course, some of her moves were adjusted to accentuate her lower body strength and she had to shift her weight differently, but fighting her felt more like sparring with Dick than anyone else he'd ever gone up against.
“Who trained you?” he asked aloud in that moment of surprise.
She followed through with the low sweep she'd started, he sidestepped, and then she moved away.
She didn't turn to face him, just kept walking steadily toward the edge of the roof. “Huntress, wait!” he called. When she didn't stop, he ran after her, catching her at the edge, grapple in hand. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. Her face was frozen into a blank mask, but she wouldn't look at him.
Suddenly his patience snapped, and he shook her roughly. “Who are you? Fighting you is like fighting myself. You look at me with panic. You clearly want to help, but you won't work with me. You won't tell me anything about yourself, but you know me. How do you know me?” He paused for breath and tried to tamp down his anger a little.
“Ha.” she said without humor. “World's Greatest Detective found a puzzle he can't solve.” She shook her head. “Tell you what, Batman,” she went on, loading the name with scorn, “I'll answer three questions, and tell you no lies. But no names, either. See if you can guess my secret.” She spat the last phrase with bitter vitriol, such that Bruce took a half step back and doubted again his instinct to trust her.
“Who trained you. Not names, just relationship or job description.”
“My parents. My parents trained me.”
“Where are they now?”
“They're dead, a long way away from here. One more.” She looked away from him, out over the city.
He thought for a moment, about their meeting at the party, about Damian, about blue eyes.
“I think you told me the truth earlier, that I remind you of someone. This person I remind you of, is he someone who hurt you, or someone you miss?”
She took a shaky breath. “Someone I miss.” She glanced over at him again, but the anger had drained out of her.
“But it made you uncomfortable when I flirted with you. You act like dealing with secret identities is second nature. You don't want to trust me, but you do. You fight just like me. You look like me.” He paused and really looked at her. “Helena,” he asked quietly, “Where are you from?”
“Gotham.”
“Which Gotham?”
She smiled a little then, closing her eyes. “Not the one on this world.”
He let the silence stretch for a moment. “Will you tell me what happened?”
“Darkseid happened, and catastrophe,” she said quietly. “Much worse than here. My... my father died saving the whole damn world. And,” she spun, her voice rising again, and crashed her fists against his chestplate, “I helped, helped him get there! I didn't know, you didn't trust me, didn't tell me, what the plan meant...But the end of that final battle also created a rift, and... here I am.”
Here, in a world not her own, where she didn't even exist... “What was your mother's name, Helena?”
She got a mutinous look, like she expected him to call her a liar. “Selina. Selina Wayne.”
And of course it was partially Selina he'd seen in her, trusted in her, from the beginning. It was too crazy a story, she was too proud, too prickly, too suspicious, too much a Bat, too much his own. It went without saying that he'd double check later, but in the moment Bruce had no doubt that a DNA test would confirm her claimed parentage. “Oh, Helena,” was all he said, and gently put his arms around her.
She leaned into him, and he could feel the tension melting out of her. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I know you're not, but you're so like, so like my dad, that I can't bear it.” She laughed then, adding, “And, yeah it drove me a little crazy to find out you had all these boys.”
He chuckled softly, and just held her a moment longer, until she pulled away.
She took a few deep breaths. “Sorry,” she said again.
He shook his head. “The fact that you're here, thriving, still fighting the good fight? I'd say that speaks well for you, and your training,” he smirked slightly at the end, making it a joke.
“Well, of course my dad was a little older than you, more mature, had more experience,” she retorted lightly.
He snorted. “I'll bet.” Bruce let his voice shade back to serious. “I'll listen, if you'd like to talk about your family sometime.”
Her mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Sometime,” she agreed.
“For now, would you like to go after some arms dealers?”
“Oh God, yes,” she exclaimed with theatrical relief.
Bruce stifled a laugh at that, saying only, “After you, then.”
She grinned back fiercely, then led the way off into the night.
Continuity: DC Comics New 52
Characters: Batman, Robin(Damian), Huntress
Summary: Bruce Wayne meets a mysterious young lady hiding a very personal secret.
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 3200
Note: References events from Earth 2 #1
Bruce Wayne casually circulated through the gala crowd at a Monte Carlo hotel. He joined in on a terrible joke here or a flirtation there, all part of connecting with the upper crust. Suddenly he heard a particular high-pitched giggle and mentally braced himself for Vanessa Stoughton, who didn't take polite brush-offs well. It was a mixed blessing that the Star City heiress had recently gotten engaged; now instead of trying to hang on his arm all night, she was pointedly introducing him to every unattached female she could lay her hands on
He glanced in the direction of the giggle and sure enough, there was her platinum head weaving through the crowd straight towards him. Bruce shifted his cocktail to his left hand and half-turned to meet Vanessa as she broke free of the pack, towing a young dark haired woman with her.
“Surprise!” Vanessa trilled, “Helena, this is Bruce Wayne! I can't believe you've never met, you being from Gotham and all! This is just kismet, a perfect moment to get to know each other!”
Vanessa was still blathering, her hand firmly on the small of the other woman's back, encouraging her forward, but Bruce wasn't listening. His hand was half extended, but his smile faltered at the look on her face. Bruce was used to women being flirtatious, obsequious, timid, nervous, predatory and even occasionally just coolly friendly, but this was new.
She was absolutely horror-stricken. Her blue eyes widened, her whole body tensed as if for flight.
For one frozen moment, Bruce frantically wondered what he could have done to make this beautiful woman panic at the sight of him. Then the expression vanished, and she stepped forward, calmly extending her hand.
“Lovely to meet you, Mr. Wayne. Helena Bertinelli.” Her voice held no trace of the emotion of a moment ago.
“The pleasure is mine. Please, call me Bruce.” He pressed his lips lightly to the back of her hand, and her hand tensed ever so slightly, as if to pull away. “Are you all right, Helena?”
She laughed. “Of course, I'm sorry, you just... reminded me of someone for a moment.” She was laughing, she was calm, why did he suspect she was still close to panic?
“I am beginning to suspect he wasn't someone you liked. Please allow me to make it up to you on his behalf.” He raised his glass to signal a roving waiter.
“Oh no, Mr. Wayne, I couldn't. I really have to-”
“Helena!” Vanessa broke in, “Don't be rude to Bruce! Let's all have a drink.” She nudged the other woman closer with her shoulder.
Vanessa nattered on about mutual friends as they sipped martinis, and Helena mostly just listened politely. She looked vaguely awkward whenever Bruce tried to pay her a flirtatious compliment, so finally he fell to studying her profile discreetly. Bertinelli... There had been a crime syndicate in Gotham run by the Bertinellis before the Falcones moved in, but this young lady was probably too young to have more than maybe an old familial tie there. Although, a child of criminals being suddenly faced with Batman could explain some of her behavior. How would she know his identity, though? She was a mystery. She looked oddly familiar, actually, but he couldn't place her.
Vanessa finally drifted off to speak with another friend, with a glance at Helena that clearly directed her to stay and attempt to charm the billionaire.
“Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry to have taken up your time,” Helena said with another politely empty smile, “Vanessa is very insistent.”
“Helena, she said you were from Gotham. Do I know you? I'm terribly sorry if we've met before and I've forgotten...” He trailed off because while her smile stayed frozen, her eyes had shifted. There was something pained there, all of a sudden.
She swallowed. “Do you know me?” she echoed lightly. “No, Mr. Wayne. We've never met. Have a nice evening.”
Bruce watched the raven-haired woman move off into the crowd.
* * *
Bruce saw Helena across a room a bit later in the evening, and she had been flirting and conversing with ease. Maybe that had been the truth, that he had only reminded her of someone else. He made a mental note to check up on her later, just to be sure.
Putting her out of his thoughts, he returned to working the crowd. He was only half here for an official social appearance. He was also listening for leads on a series of high-profile robberies in the area that he suspected were linked to a smuggling ring which was also involved with weapon sales. The art thieves were probably the weak link in the organization, so here he was, looking for clues among the idle rich.
He was beginning to think the night was a wash when his phone went off. He pulled it out, the text just read “TROUBLE WITH ROOM SERVICE.”
Bruce quickly made his excuses and went back to his suite.
* * *
He eased the door open and slipped inside. The lights were off, but a decent amount of light from the street glanced in through the windows between the blinds. The door to the balcony was half-open. Out of line of sight from the door, but in the main sitting room, Damian sat scowling in the dim light. Across from him, a woman sat on the floor, leaning against a chair. Her hands and feet were tied, she was gagged with what he hoped was a clean sock, and she was wearing a purple and black costume.
The two glared vicious daggers at each other, then two sets of piercing blue eyes looked up in unison. Bruce blinked, he was surprised to note Damian had a reddening mark along the side of his face, and held one wrist stiffly. As he came closer and sat down, Bruce became certain that the young woman was Helena, from earlier.
“Well, this is a surprise,” he managed. “Are you both alright?”
Helena looked away. Damian sputtered, “That woman was trying to break into our room!”
Bruce sighed and mildly said, “And you didn't call the police.”
“Of course not, they couldn't ask her the right questions!”
Helena snorted from the floor.
Bruce noted a pile of tools on the table, mostly in black and purple: lockpicks, various gadgets, mini-camera, smoke pellets, grapple, folding crossbow. Bruce picked this last up, looked at it. “I've heard of you. Huntress, right?”
Helena nodded, just barely.
“Alright. Well, then maybe we should ask Huntress why she's here, seeing as she didn't skewer you with this,” he lifted the crossbow again.
Damian scoffed, “Like she could hit me.”
All at once, Helena flowed up from the floor to standing, pulling out the gag. Bruce raised an eyebrow, he hadn't noticed when she'd gotten out of the knots. “Please. You couldn't dodge a softball!”
Damian leapt toward her. “You arrogant bitch! How dare you break in here-” anything else he was about to say was cut off as Huntress's foot connected with his stomach.
Bruce stepped back, but watched carefully. Helena was playing a defensive game, which was smart against Damian's barely-controlled power. She blocked several strikes in a row before seizing an opening for a quick throw.
They closed again in silence, Huntress staying on the defense once more. Damian was getting frustrated, it showed in his eyes, but Helena was... relaxing? She was almost smiling, and she certainly looked more engaged than she had at the party downstairs. Damian pressed the attack, there was a flurry of motion, and Helena sailed across the room, landing hard enough to rattle the pictures on the walls. He stood ready for another assault, but she pushed herself only to sitting, and just started to laugh.
“Oh, kid,” she gasped, “I can't even hate you. You're so lost.” She was still laughing, but her eyes glinted oddly in the indirect light, and her laughter was tinged with hysteria.
Bruce put a hand heavily on Damian's shoulder to forestall another angry outburst. “Huntress,” he asked quietly, “Who are you?”
“Nobody,” she gasped, caught between laughter and tears, “I'm nobody.”
“I somehow don't think that's true.” He paused for a moment to let her recover a bit. “Alright, why did you break into my hotel suite.”
She took a deep steadying breath. “I... just wanted to know why you were here. If you're after the arms deal, I might have some info for you. I took down part of a connected group not long ago.”
“Arms dealers.”
“Well, mine were mostly in human trafficking...”
Bruce raised an eyebrow at her. “Why would I be interested in arms dealers?”
She snorted, then sighed. “Really? After playtime with Junior there, you want to play it that way?” He was silent. “Yeah, it was stupid of me to come here. I should have tried to meet you on the job if I wanted to work with you.” She added brusquely, “Which I don't,” although Bruce thought it sounded a bit like she was arguing with someone who wasn't present.
“You think you know something,” Bruce said at last, “How did you come by this alleged information?”
She just shook her head.
“Someone told her,” Damian hissed, “Security breach.”
“I'm sorry, I can't tell you. I shouldn't even be here. I can't...” she broke off, standing up.
She moved to the table to collect her things, and Damian twitched under Bruce's steady hand. “Father!” he protested.
“Huntress,” Bruce said, “if you have information for someone, maybe you could try in three hours, on the roof of the Oceanographic Museum.”
She stowed her gear quickly, then turned toward Bruce and paused, searching his eyes for something. But without a word, she turned again, went to the balcony, and was gone.
“Why did you let her go!” Damian exclaimed.
“I wasn't just making conversation about her crossbow. She didn't shoot you, and I'm betting she didn't even try.” Bruce got his answer from Damian's scowl and downward glance. “She didn't get any information here that she didn't walk in with, but I'll learn more about her this way.”
Damian rolled his eyes, but Bruce went into the bedroom and his secreted equipment. He still had time to do that background check and maybe catch a bit more of the party before he'd have to head across the bay to meet with Huntress.
* * *
Bruce swung up onto the highest part of the Oceanographic Museum three hours later. Even if Huntress didn't show, he could get some work done. He'd been planning to come here anyway; it had a great view of the coast if you had the right equipment. Although, from the quiet scrape he heard from the shadow of the ventilation system, he probably wasn't alone.
“Huntress.”
She eased into the moonlight. “Batman.”
“I understand you might have some information on the weapons circuit that runs through here?”
She nodded shortly. “A couple addresses of storage facilities, a message drop point.” She stepped forward, looking over his equipment, her eyes tracing the edge of each piece of armor.
“You'll understand if I don't just take your word that your information is good.”
“It is.”
“Even so.”
She held herself in a sort of tense stillness, neither moving forward or back. Then she thrust out a hand with a slip of paper. “Here. You can have it. Do what you want.”
He gently took the paper, tucked it away. “Didn't you want to be part of the investigation?”
“No. I can't... can't work with you.”
“Are you working against me, Huntress?”
“No!” She actually looked shocked and stricken at that, so much that he was inclined to believe her.
New tactic, he decided. “If I checked your fingerprints against the birth records of Helena Bertinelli, what do you think I'd find?”
She smirked. “A match.”
“And would it look like those records had been tampered with?” he asked, knowing the answer was yes. She shrugged. Bruce sighed. “I don't trust you, Huntress, but I want to. Why? I feel like I've met you somewhere.”
“Damn you,” she muttered. Then she raised her voice. “Damn you for not being an utter bastard. Damn you for caring about that idiot child who can't keep his identities straight. You even give a damn about a girl you met only tonight! Damn you for being...” her voice broke. She took a breath, then glanced back up, eyes filled with fury now. “Maybe I should. Work against you. I could. God, I could. Why not. It's not like I...” With a yell, she launched herself at him.
He deflected her, automatically at first, but as she focused past her anger, they began to fight in earnest. Bruce was concerned at first how to take her down without really hurting her, but soon he realized that she was quite good, Damian wasn't just having an off day.
Her moves were odd, though. She anticipated his strikes casually, easily, almost before he'd decided to move. Her moves in turn seemed to connect naturally with his blocks, as if they'd sparred before. Neither one of them could land a hit, as if it were a planned routine, a dance. That was what was so odd about fighting her, it came to him suddenly: it was like fighting a mirror. Not absolutely, of course, some of her moves were adjusted to accentuate her lower body strength and she had to shift her weight differently, but fighting her felt more like sparring with Dick than anyone else he'd ever gone up against.
“Who trained you?” he asked aloud in that moment of surprise.
She followed through with the low sweep she'd started, he sidestepped, and then she moved away.
She didn't turn to face him, just kept walking steadily toward the edge of the roof. “Huntress, wait!” he called. When she didn't stop, he ran after her, catching her at the edge, grapple in hand. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. Her face was frozen into a blank mask, but she wouldn't look at him.
Suddenly his patience snapped, and he shook her roughly. “Who are you? Fighting you is like fighting myself. You look at me with panic. You clearly want to help, but you won't work with me. You won't tell me anything about yourself, but you know me. How do you know me?” He paused for breath and tried to tamp down his anger a little.
“Ha.” she said without humor. “World's Greatest Detective found a puzzle he can't solve.” She shook her head. “Tell you what, Batman,” she went on, loading the name with scorn, “I'll answer three questions, and tell you no lies. But no names, either. See if you can guess my secret.” She spat the last phrase with bitter vitriol, such that Bruce took a half step back and doubted again his instinct to trust her.
“Who trained you. Not names, just relationship or job description.”
“My parents. My parents trained me.”
“Where are they now?”
“They're dead, a long way away from here. One more.” She looked away from him, out over the city.
He thought for a moment, about their meeting at the party, about Damian, about blue eyes.
“I think you told me the truth earlier, that I remind you of someone. This person I remind you of, is he someone who hurt you, or someone you miss?”
She took a shaky breath. “Someone I miss.” She glanced over at him again, but the anger had drained out of her.
“But it made you uncomfortable when I flirted with you. You act like dealing with secret identities is second nature. You don't want to trust me, but you do. You fight just like me. You look like me.” He paused and really looked at her. “Helena,” he asked quietly, “Where are you from?”
“Gotham.”
“Which Gotham?”
She smiled a little then, closing her eyes. “Not the one on this world.”
He let the silence stretch for a moment. “Will you tell me what happened?”
“Darkseid happened, and catastrophe,” she said quietly. “Much worse than here. My... my father died saving the whole damn world. And,” she spun, her voice rising again, and crashed her fists against his chestplate, “I helped, helped him get there! I didn't know, you didn't trust me, didn't tell me, what the plan meant...But the end of that final battle also created a rift, and... here I am.”
Here, in a world not her own, where she didn't even exist... “What was your mother's name, Helena?”
She got a mutinous look, like she expected him to call her a liar. “Selina. Selina Wayne.”
And of course it was partially Selina he'd seen in her, trusted in her, from the beginning. It was too crazy a story, she was too proud, too prickly, too suspicious, too much a Bat, too much his own. It went without saying that he'd double check later, but in the moment Bruce had no doubt that a DNA test would confirm her claimed parentage. “Oh, Helena,” was all he said, and gently put his arms around her.
She leaned into him, and he could feel the tension melting out of her. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I know you're not, but you're so like, so like my dad, that I can't bear it.” She laughed then, adding, “And, yeah it drove me a little crazy to find out you had all these boys.”
He chuckled softly, and just held her a moment longer, until she pulled away.
She took a few deep breaths. “Sorry,” she said again.
He shook his head. “The fact that you're here, thriving, still fighting the good fight? I'd say that speaks well for you, and your training,” he smirked slightly at the end, making it a joke.
“Well, of course my dad was a little older than you, more mature, had more experience,” she retorted lightly.
He snorted. “I'll bet.” Bruce let his voice shade back to serious. “I'll listen, if you'd like to talk about your family sometime.”
Her mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Sometime,” she agreed.
“For now, would you like to go after some arms dealers?”
“Oh God, yes,” she exclaimed with theatrical relief.
Bruce stifled a laugh at that, saying only, “After you, then.”
She grinned back fiercely, then led the way off into the night.