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It was a Saturday when the residents of Crime Alley dressed in black began the long walk to Wayne Manor.
Jason Todd, their personal hero, was dead, and he had left behind three young children.
His eldest, an 11-year-old girl named Catherine, known as Kitty by her friends and family walked in front of the crowd, head lowered in mourning. She carried the youngest, Jacob, barely a year old. Behind her, clutching the skirt of her dress was the final member of the trio, 6-and-a-half-year-old Fitzwilliam, or Fitz for short.
The entire parade, consisting of over a hundred people, old and young, male and female, walked with a purpose. They were to fulfill Jason's will and take his children to their estranged family.
The people of Bristol, upper-class Gotham folk gathered out on their front gardens and lawns to watch. Some threw rocks and rotten food, and one even called the police, but nothing would deter the marching crowd.
Alfred Pennyworth, the butler of Wayne Manor was the first of the household to notice the disturbance. He stared out the kitchen window, and for once, his unmoving expression was replaced with open-mouthed shock.
"Master Bruce!" He called, not daring to raise his voice further than a medium shout. "Master Bruce, children!" he repeated, with more urgency. There was a crash from upstairs, and the remaining members of the Batfamily gathered haphazardly in the kitchen, shirts rumpled and hair ruffled. Bruce was last.
"uhm-hgn-Alfred?" He mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Whag-What's going on?" Alfred simply gestured with his head to the mass of people closing in on the house.
The family stood stock still, captivated by the masses outside. They only unfroze when the crowd reached the door, and one of the working girls rang the doorbell.
They raced to the door, weapons at the ready(or in Duke's case, ready to cut the lights or make them blinding at any moment). After all, it wasn't every day that the entirety of Crime Alley gathered at somebody's doorstep.
There was a heavy unease settled upon the family, for what if they had discovered the identities of Gotham's vigilantes? Many had lost friends or family at the hands of the Bats, and would likely want revenge.
Dick opened the door cautiously, and the family was greeted by a tall woman in a revealing baby blue dress with eight-inch stilettos.
"Hello," she said, eyes red and puffy, throat hoarse."I am here about Jason Todd."
Chapter Text
The Waynes were worried. Actually, that is an understatement. They were absolutely terrified about what was going to happen.
Nobody was supposed to know Jason was alive, so if these people were here to talk about him, something must have happened.
The woman, who introduced herself as Bubblegum, told them how Jason had re-entered the lives of the Gothamites, and how he cared for everyone, regardless of their ideologies or social standing (she conveniently left out the fact that he still killed people).
She spoke about Jason's life in Crime Alley, and how he got his children. Most heartbreaking of all, she spoke about his death. Not his first one, but a new death, one that would last.
Bubblegum told them stories they had never heard, and it warmed all of their hearts to learn about Jason. They only wished it was under better circumstances.
“Now as to why we’re here,” concluded Bubblegum, “Jason may be gone, but he has left behind children, and as they are your family, you must be the ones to care for them.”
To say the family was heartbroken was an understatement. Dick had already excused himself to have some privacy, and even Damian's normally stoic facade was cracking.
If he hadn't been Batman, Bruce would have broken down and sobbed right there and then.
“Right then,” said Alfred, subtly blinking away tears. “I don’t know about you, but I think we could all use a nice cup of hot chocolate. Bring the children in Miss Bubblegum, they should have some as well.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “God knows they need it after what they’ve been through.
The woman smiled, albeit shakily, and stood, tottering dangerously on her heels. It was only muscle memory that stopped her from falling down. She took quite a few tries to open the large front doors, but the family were too overwhelmed with grief to notice and help.