#the beginning of bat mom

This is not a romantic fic, and it is gender neutral! Yay Me!

People who are always asking me for a part 2, don’t worry this one will have one. I hope you all enjoy!

TW: Cannon typical injuries, mentions of blood

You found him lying on the street. If you had been anyone else you would have probably kept moving, averted your eyes and pushed the image from your mind. But you were new to Gotham, and you still had that bleeding heart; so you walked over to the boy who lay in the grimy alley way in a too expensive suit and a bloody head.

“Hey kid.” You said, shaking his shoulder lightly, hoping the child would wake up.

The kid did, his eyes shot open, dark hazel orbs meeting your own. He looked scared and disoriented. You weren’t the most parental figure, but you suddenly wanted to wrap the child up in your arms and hold him close, tell him it would all be okay.

“Kid.” You tried again, “We need to get you to a hospital, or the cops, or something.”

This seemed to wake the kid up immediately, he looked at you with wide eyes, “No. No hospitals.”

Probably a street kid then, you nodded to yourself, because street kids never wanted to be put back into the foster system, and that broke your heart slightly. But you didn’t say that out loud.

“Listen kid,” You tried again, softly this time, “You’re bleeding from a head wound. It’s probably not good. I’m no doctor, you should really get checked out.”

The kid whipped at his forehead as if he was just noticing the blood. He didn’t say a word, just stared down at his bloodied hand.

“Come on. I’ll take you to urgent care. They don’t ask too many questions there.” You said finally, standing up and then offering him a hand up as well. The kid took it, sluggishly and you smiled at him.

He was small, but he was deceptively heavy, probably all muscles. But his weight meant you couldn’t carry him, you would just have to help support his weight. The two of you made it to the free clinic in good time, and in almost complete silence, aside from a few groans of pain.

While the two of you sat in the waiting room the boy attached himself to you, it was like he imprinted on you. You were filling out paperwork fo the kid, in preparation for him to see the doctor.

“What’s your name kid?” You asked not looking up from the file, you expected a quick answer, and after a moment of silence you looked at the child sitting next to you. He looked horrified, he didn’t even know his own name, he must of hit his head really hard.

“Shit kid,” You whispered, “You’ve got to–”

Fear and panic swam into the kid’s eyes, “No please, I can’t go…” He trailed off.

This kid was terrified of something, and he didn’t even know what it was. You felt pity for him, you couldn’t throw him back to the wolves that was the foster system. You wanted to protect him, which was odd, because you had never felt an urge like this before.

“Fine, fine. For now you are going to say you are Ian L/N.” You whispered pulling a name out of your ass, “and you are my baby brother. Got it?”

The kid nodded, “Ian.” He said in confirmation.

The nurse didn’t say anything when you gave her the paperwork, but she did look between you and the little boy. She didn’t seem to believe you were related. But this was the bad part of Gotham, and the boy was still clinging to you as if his life depended on it, so she didn’t say a word.

A few hours later Ian returned to you, his head was sewn shut with three stitches, and the tired nurse explained that he had a concussion and that probably caused his memory loss. The memories would return in their own time, and that you shouldn’t force them. She said that with a concussion he shouldn’t do anything that provided too much brain power, and absolutely no electronics. Then she sent the two of you home.

You didn’t know what to do with the kid, Ian now, but you couldn’t just leave him on the street again. So you took him to your home, it was a small studio apartment with barley enough to take care of yourself, let alone a child. But you heated him up some canned soup, and then put him to bed in your bed, while you took the scratchy couch.

That night you dreamed of nothing.

It was a week after you had found Ian, and you were gladly getting into the routine of him being in your house. You would leave early in the morning for work, always giving him a kiss on the forehead and making him promise to take it easy with his concussion. You would come home after your shift with new foods, those that an eight year old (you were assuming he was eight, he looked young) might like. Then together you would take a short walk around the block, and Ian’s face would light up everytime he saw an animal. You loved it when he smiled, for a small kid he was too serious, except when he saw a dog or cat. He would always ask the owner if he could pet the animal.

It was a normal night for the two of you, he was reading one of your old books, and you were cooking dinner for the two of you. You heard the book fall to the ground. You turned around scared, because Ian was surprisingly agile, and you had never seen him drop anything. He was staring at you, his hazel eyes wide and scared.

“Y/N.” He whispered it, it was a terrified whisper, and you ran to him, abandoning the dinner. “Y/N, I remember my name. It’s Damian. I’m Damian – I am Damian something.”

Ian–Damian, was crying now, and you didn’t know what to do. This kid didn’t show his range of emotions a lot, so you just reached around him and gave him a hug.

“Why can’t I remember who I am?” Damian asked softly.

“You will. I know you will soon.” You whispered.

The dinner was forgotten and went cold, but you kept holding Damian as he cried. And you were okay with that.

Damian’s concussion had faded away, and you were worried about him being in your apartment all day, it might look like kidnapping or something, so you enrolled him in school, under the name Damian L/N.

After his first day of school you treated him to a night out, you couldn’t afford a fancy dinner, but you went to a small greasy diner and ordered him an ice cream. You asked him how his day was, and Damian told you that everyone at his school was an imbecile, and you laughed.

You don’t know exactly when it happened, but Damian had somehow wormed his way into your heart, and now you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

You couldn’t imagine walks without him stopping every dog owner to ask if he could pet them.

You couldn’t imagine going to the park without him playing with a stick, acting like it was a sword. (You had noticed he was all too good with it.)

And you definitely couldn’t imagine Friday nights when you two would curl up in your chair and watch movies, Damian likes action movies, and you indulged him.

You worried about the fact that Damian still hadn’t regained any of his memories from before he was with you. You tried to get him to go to the clinic, but every time he would conveniently disappear and not come back until you sighed that you wouldn’t take him. From his fears of the police and the hospitals, you figured it was a life he didn’t really want to remember so you tried not to push it too hard.

The two of you had been together for six months when everything changed, and you were so happy about it. Damian was home from school, his homework spread out on your table and you were happily reading a new book from the library.

Damian without looking up from his home work said, “Hey mother, I need you to sign a permission slip for me.”

Damian didn’t even notice that he called you mother, but you certainly did. You stared dumbfounded at the boy at the table, you heart soaring. You had never felt so good, so accomplished, in your entire life. Damian saw you as a mother, and you (God help you) saw him as a son as well.

“Y/N” Damian said again, this time looking up, “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah Dami. I’ll sign it.” You were still smiling like a fool and Damian noticed, but he said nothing.

The field trip was on Monday and you and Damian were on your daily walk to the park. It was growing colder, and the sun was going down earlier. Damian had insisted he didn’t need a jacket, and his teeth were now chattering, but he was too stubborn to admit he was cold, and you were laughing silently at the ordeal.

“We better get going.” You told Damian, looking at the fast darkening sky, “It’s getting dark, so no petting any dogs okay.”

You loved Gotham, but it was not the type of place that you wanted to be at night, even if Batman would protect you.

“TT. I’m not afraid of the dark.” Damian huffed.

“Well I am Dami. So we better get going.” You replied automatically.

“I will protect you if anything happens Umi.” Damian boasted, he had started calling you Umi about three months ago, and after your initial confusion you googled it to learn that Umi was Mom in arabic. Which was at least one clue into his past.

“I know you will kid.”

They two of you were about two blocks from your apartment, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, when none other than the Batman jumped in front of the two of you. You pulled Damian behind you, putting yourself between your kid and a grown man with a weird fursona.

“You.” The Batman seethed, his voice was gravelly and dark. He sounded like he was going to kill you, and you knew the Batman didn’t kill so you were terrified. “Stole him away from me.”

Him?

Did Batman know your Damian? Was that his life before you, as the Robin? No wonder the kid was bloody and bruised when you met him.

“No,” Damian said, trying to get out from behind you, but you wouldn’t let him. Because you be damned if you kid got hurt by a costumed vigilante. “No father, she didn’t steal me. She saved me.”

While you couldn’t see the Batman’s face, you could feel his palpable shock at Damian’s words. They mirrored your own shock, because Father?

“Young man,” You said, not looking at Damian, because you still were keeping yourself between him and the Batman (who apparently is his father), “You told me you didn’t remember your past. You lied to me?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.” Damian huffed, stepping around you so he could see the Batman fully.

Damian sighed and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards your apartment, “Come on.”

The Batman followed behind you silently, and it was awkward to say the least, for a vigilante to be walking behind you and your kid, him towering over your shoulder. You could feel the Batman’s eyes on you, as if this were all your fault, and not his for leaving his son to bleed out in a dirty alley way.

As soon as you three all entered your apartment, Batman rounded on Damian.

“You left. You were gone for almost a year, do you know how worried I was. I thought you had died!”

“I didn’t die, I was completely safe. Y/N was taking care of me.” Damian replied shortly, one hand was curled into a ball, and the other was still holding your own. It reminded you of the first day you had him, when he wouldn’t let go of you, as if you were his life line.

“But I didn’t know that!” Batman countered, raising his voice so that you flinched. Damian squeezes your hand tighter, stepping a little in front of you, as if he was protecting you. The movement didn’t escape Batman’s knowledge, and he took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Damian.” You spoke softly, and the boy turned to look up at you, his big hazel eyes wide and full of terror. You never raised your voice at the boy, and you wouldn’t start now, “You should have told him where you were. You should have told me you remembered you past. Why didn’t you?”

And you could see the tears gathering in Damian’s eyes. He acted so strong and mature, sometimes you forgot that he was still just a child. You kneeled down and pulled him into a tight hug, “He would have taken me away from you. And I didn’t want to leave Umi. I wanted to stay with you.”

You looked at the Batman, who was watching the display carefully, and you wondered if he would take your son away.

Finally Batman sighed, and he pulled down his mask, revealing the face of the billionaire Bruce Wayne. You wanted to be shocked that you knew who Batman was, but right now you could only focus on the child in your arms. You stared at Bruce Wayne, and pleaded with your eyes, you couldn’t let your boy go.

“We’ll figure this out Damian.” Bruce Wayne finally whispered. “I won’t take her away from you.”