Work Text:
It all starts with the strum of a note.
Strum of a tune, followed by the soft hum to a melody long forgotten, to a twist of calloused fingertips as they slide onto their fret.
A musician's work is never done. As music changes over the years, so does the soul.
For music is universal; an art so timeless, it was believed to heal all wounds.
A young girl takes a step onto the stage, but she doesn't make way to the center.
No, instead, she gravitates upstage; her voice ever so present in the chorus.
Her effort goes unnoticed, but without it, the harmonies wouldn't sound all complete.
As the crowd gives their standing ovation, the girl could only shake her head.
This was not the end. For she knew that all songs are always intended to be resung.
This is the song of [REDACTED], the nameless bard.
I
Keep You Safe
It was a chilly autumn in Gotham.
The manor had been littered in dead leaves much to Alfred’s dismay.
Bruce couldn’t care less though. When he got mad, he’d resort to kicking the piles of freshly raked leaves.
(“No, Alfred, I didn’t kick the leaves!”
Alfred rose a brow in the way Bruce has seen plenty of times.
“Really? Please tell me then, Master Bruce, what is that on your trousers?”
The eleventh year old looked down to find a loose leaf clipped to the pant of his trousers.
Snitched on by a damn leaf.)
But that was beside the point.
Bruce couldn’t handle staying inside that the moment.
It was a stupid argument. Alfred just doesn’t understand.
A few words were exchanged; each one charged with more hostility than the next.
He could remember the way Alfred’s face grew red; a rare sight from the usually composed father figure butler.
(No. Why would he see him as that? Alfred could never be his father because he’s dead).
It wasn’t the man’s fault. Bruce knows that. He was just too stubborn to admit it.
“Master Bruce, please tell me why I received a notice from the school stating you had started yet another fight?” Was what greeted Bruce when he entered the foyer.
“What do you think?” The boy snarked as he proceeded to take his shoes off.
“Well, I believe you need more self restraint,” Alfred replied calmly.
“Self restraint? Yeah right. If you were in my place and heard the awful things said, you would’ve done the same as me!”
“Would I?” He rose a brow. “You are better than this, Master Bruce. This is already the fifth time this month. What would people think?”
“Screw what they say! Is that all you care about? What other people think?!” Bruce couldn’t help to snap, stepping back. Alfred didn’t even want to heart his side of the story?
“Do you even care about me? Or do you just feel indebted to my parents?! Is that why you chose to stay?! For your conscience?!”
“Master Bruce!” Alfred took him by the shoulders, leveling an eye with the boy.
“The state was already reluctant with me keeping you. Rumors of your behavior spread quick. If you do not control yourself, you will be forcibly taken from me! Is that what you want?!”
..What?
“What would your parents think of this? I refuse to leave you to fend for yourself in this city.“
Bruce couldn’t listen anymore.
“Master Bruce!—“
Bruce didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t care to look back, or pay attention to where he was going.
He just let his feet take him wherever was farthest.
So here Bruce was, wandering the woods that was the rest of the estate; kicking around whatever came across his path.
Which probably wasn’t the smartest thing, considering he ran off with no shoes.
Great thinking, Bruce..
The boy sighed.
He didn’t normally wander around here.
All the night time stories his parents would tell him when he was little still stuck with him.
But he was older now.
But without his parents to hold his hand..
It’s been two years since the murder. It feels like it will never get easy.
Why did it have to happen to them? Why couldn’t he have gotten shot too?—
He wasn’t paying attention when it happened, his socked foot stepping on a rather sharp rock.
He winced, causing him to flop face first into the leaf pile below him.
“Oof!”
Bruce grunted, raising his head. He swiped away a leaf in his hair, ready to retaliate against the leaves for disrespecting his dignity when..
♪ “When I was a child.. My nerves ran wild~ When I watched my friends ride to the tops of the trees.” ♪
Strum of a note, the style of repetitive picking of strings..
♪ “With the risk of fall. I never climbed at all~ Every day I told myself, "I'm not ready..” ♪
He looked up to find a young girl perched upon the thick branches of a tree, her back pressed against the old trunk.
♪ “..No amount of waiting will make you, make you brave. No amount of fear will keep you, no amount of fear will keep you safe." ♪
She cradled the guitar in her lap, going through the motions of the rhythm as if second nature.
♪ “The older I get, the more fears I collect~ I gather them from all the people I meet.” ♪
The look of her face, that accent..
♪ “Their stories reveal regrets their smiles can't conceal~ I carry them, I carry them with me.” ♪
Bruce tilted his head up. Was this the girl his parents talked about?
“If you come across a young girl dressed in flowers,” his father explained in hushed words,”You always ask her about her songs. Always”
♪ “My daddy always says, "Nothing worth doing comes easy." Time is not your friend,
Time is not your remedy.” ♪
“Why?” Bruce asked.
“Her songs are magical, Bruce. She can bring people together just by the sound of her voice.”
♪ “…What if the steps I take, turn out to be mistakes? How can somebody like me learn to say, "Come what may.."?” ♪
♪ “Come what—“ ♪
He sneezed.
Crap.
The girl in the tree paused, sitting up as she glanced down.
Her eyes widened when they made eye contact.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out.
“What are you doing here?” she asked instead, clutching her guitar closer to her chest.
“I should be asking you that. You’re in my backyard.” Bruce finally got up, brushing away at his uniform.
“This is all yours?” she looked incredulous, glancing around.
“Yeah?”
“I forgot how.. a lot you rich people are,” she mumbled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffed, crossing his arms.
She glanced back at him for a moment, shaking her head.
“Nothing. Forget I said that.”
“Seriously, what are you doing here?” he asked. “Wait, forget that. How did you get up there?”
The bard rose a brow. “I climbed, silly.”
“You’re in a dress though! That couldn’t have been comfortable, especially if you’re carrying a guitar.”
“It wasn’t that hard,” she huffed in amusement.
“Why are you here?” she prompted.
He grimaced. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Oh," she hummed in thought. "Family problems then?”
He gaped.
“How did you know?”
A small smile graced her lips. “Just a hunch.”
Bruce sighed, his shoulders slumping as he made way to sit under the tree the girl was in.
He looked down at the ground, twirling a leaf absentmindedly in his fingers.
"..He's kind of family, but not really? If that makes sense," he started, unsure.
"His name is Alfred. He's my butler but also my caretaker. My parents are, uhm, gone. So, he's all I have," he shrugged.
"I-We got into an argument. I got into a fight at school again, and he was understandably mad.."
Bruce's jaw clenched. He didn't want to think about it..
"There's this kid at my school. He's a huge prick. All he does is talk about how great it must be to be an orphan," he spat out the word. It was practically a slur to him at this point.
"He talks crap about Alfred. Always things like calling him the help, a glorified babysitter..
"But he took it too far today. He said.." he paused, his practically crushing the leaf in his hold.
"He.. he claimed Alfred must enjoy the fact he has.. unsupervised access to me," his voice cracked. It disgusted him.
"But that's besides the point!" He brushed past that, ready to forget it. He needs to forget it asap.
"The point is that I got mad and punched him. Now Alfred's mad that I punched him.."
Bruce wrapped his arms around his knees, which were now pressed against his chest.
"I just.. I didn't know Alfred had all that pressure on him," he mumbled.
"'Cause now, I probably just made things worse for him.
"He said that if I kept acting like this, it'll reflect badly on him, then they'll take me away..
"I don't want them to do that.."
"Y'know what you can do?" the girl spoke up.
"Huh?"
"There are other ways to get back at that jerk besides punching him."
"What?"
"Yeah. Putting pepper in his things, leaving thumbtacks in his bag or chair, break into his locker, ruin his notes, his textbooks? Oh and-"
"What are you talking about right now?" he looked at her in disbelief.
"This all started because you got into a fight. If you can't settle things physically, why not find other ways to get back at him that doesn't get you in trouble?" she tilted her head at him.
“Get back at him in ways that don’t lead back to you. Be smart with it.”
“That’s not a bad idea..”
“I know, right?” she beamed. “Seriously, though. I think you should definitely talk about all this with Alfred.”
“I know,” he sighed, knowing full well he wasn’t going to escape the inevitable
“..If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?–“
He looked up to find that she was nowhere to be seen.
Huh.
II
Dick knew from the second he entered his cell that he wanted out.
"There's no more space" "Everywhere is booked" That was bullcrap and Dick knew it. The social worker was a big fat racist, and it was obvious.
The way she sneered at him, speaking over him, how she looked scared to even touch him.
He was seething by the time he sat down in his bed.
Or what was supposed to be a bed.
It was just a metal slab attached to the wall with a smelly blanket.
He sat in the corner on the bed, clutching the blanket tightly around him.
He missed the circus already. He missed Zitka; how her trunk would grab his arm to pet her.
He missed the other performers; how their voices would echo in the night, how they'd ruffle his hair, talk about how he was going to surpass his parents one day.
He missed the trailer he shared. The cozy atmosphere of draped blankets, pillows, colors, and stuffies was a stark contrast to where he was now.
Cold, silent, miserable..
His parents.. What did they do to deserve that?
They were just doing their jobs. But that bastard just couldn't take no for an answer, could he?
He hated that man. He was a terrible piece of shit. He'd do anything to kill him himself--
Dick was brought out of his stupor at the sound of..
Humming?
He glanced up, catching sight of the girl in the cell across from him.
She sat on the floor, against the wall.
She held a guitar in her hands, plucking a few strings as she hummed along to herself.
She didn't wear any uniform, the bright ruffles of her dress catching his eye. Just like Mama's..
Wait.
"How did you manage to bring a guitar here?" He blurted out, his mouth snapping shut at the realization.
She shook her head, strumming a chord.
"Go to sleep, Richard Grayson."
"My name's Dick," he couldn't help correcting, his mind slowly processing.
"Wait, how do you know my name?!"
"A lot of people know your name," she shrugged. He can make out her fighting a snicker.
"Then how?-"
She shushed him once again.
"Sleep."
He sighed, clutching the blanket closer.
"I don't think I can.."
The girl hummed in contemplation.
"Let me sing to you, then."
"Are you serious? I'm not a baby," he grumbled.
"What, your mom never sang you to sleep before?"
He paused.
"I.." Mama did sing him to sleep. "Yeah. She.. She did."
God, he missed them already. He wants them back, why did it have to be them?
♪ “Until the stars have said goodbye, darling close your eyes." ♪
She was actually trying to sing him to sleep right now..
♪ "As sleep pulls you close and we say goodnight. I'll sing to you softly this sweet lullaby.." ♪
Her voice was.. comforting? No, it was lovely.
♪ "Let the moonlight be your guide, as you drift away.." ♪
She didn't need to look down for every chord change, her clear words echoing throughout the hall.
♪ "Perhaps we'll meet again one day. In the light of the sky as the sun rises.." ♪
A performer comforting another performer..
♪ "But nothing in this cruel world has been promised to you. Only the future we're destined to lose." ♪
The cell block was silent, as if the building itself was listening.
♪ "And in the end there is nothing left but our goodbyes, lingering on the wind for all of time." ♪
Dick glanced at the other cells.
♪ "When suddenly the stars go out and everything's dark, darling, just know that I'll never be far." ♪
Awake. But they weren't complaining about the interruption. They were listening as well.
♪ "And as you lay down your head, and you take your last breath." ♪
Before Dick knew it, his eyes fluttered, a sense of calm befalling him.
♪ "Sleep well, we will meet when you awaken.." ♪
"What's your name?" Dick asked, his words slightly slurred, sleep already creeping over him.
The girl stilled.
"..My name? It's--"
He slumped against the wall, the darkness in his vision overtaking him as the comforting arms of sleep embraced him in a familiar warmth.
Years later, Dick would find himself humming that very same lullaby. Though, his memory of that night felt fainter the older he got.
“What song is that, Dick?”
The older glanced down at Tim in surprise.
“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now?”
He was just trying to fix the boy’s blanket. He didn’t realize he was awake ‘til then.
Damn, he’s getting rusty.
“Well.. I was trying to. Until you came in,” Tim drawled.
“Yeah buddy?” Dick quirked a brow. “Well, maybe you should’ve tried harder.”
“Can you.. sing for me? That song?” The boy suddenly asked.
He blinked.
“I don’t know, Timmy. I don’t remember the words well,” he admitted.
Frustratingly enough, the lyrics always felt as if they were on the tip of his tongue.
“That’s okay! I want to hear it! It sounds wonderful,” Tim reassured him.
Dick chuckled at his eagerness. “Alright buddy, just make sure you actually sleep this time.”
III
Lucy Gray Part 1 • Lucy Gray Part 2 • Nothing You Can Take From Me • The Hanging Tree
Jason was dying.
He didn't know how long that bastard left him to bleed out for. Time was a hard concept to keep track of when tortured by a fucked up clown day and night.
His head was pounding, his vision shifting, refocusing, then going blurry again.
The ropes dug into broken skin; the wounds all over his body aching and oozing with infection he knew was going to be a bitch to heal from.
..Heal? He was going to heal from this?
Jason shook his head. Of course he was. He was going to make it back.
He'll get a scolding from Alfred, a stern talking to from Dr. Leslie, and Bruce..
God, Bruce.
How could he look him in the face after this? Running away like he did?
Bruce was right. He was reckless.
Jason grunted. He wasn't sure if it was the endorphins talking or what. All he knew was that he needed to find a way out.
He slipped a few times in his attempt for balance, each one irritating his wounds more and more.
He managed to slip his hands under his legs, his tied arms now in front of him.
He threw himself to the door, slumping against it; a small trail of his blood left behind.
Bruce had to know he was gone, right?
He was about to reach for the handle when suddenly,
♪ “Oft I'd heard of Lucy Gray.. And when I crossed the wild.." ♪
A.. voice?
♪ "I chanced to see at break of day.. The solitary child." ♪
Singing. Someone was singing.
♪ "No mate, no comrade Lucy knew. She dwelt where none abide.. The sweetest thing that ever grew upon the mountainside.." ♪
Someone was here.. Someone was here.
♪ "You yet may spy the fawn at play, the hare among the green.. But the sweet face of Lucy Gray will never more be seen." ♪
The voice sounded oddly familiar. That accent..?
♪ ""Tonight will be a stormy night, you to the town must go.. And take a lantern, child, to light your mother through the snow." ♪
Jason started banging his hands against the door like his life depended on it. Because it did.
♪ "...As carefree as a mountain doe.. A fresh, new path she broke." ♪
"HELP!! WE'RE IN HERE!" He banged against the door, trying at the doorknob, slamming his body against the door as he screamed at the top of his lungs.
"DAD, I'M IN HERE! BRUCE.!"
♪ "Her feet dispersed the powdery snow. That rose up just like smoke.." ♪
"PLEASE! HELP US!" He couldn't stay here. He just couldn't. Bruce wasn't coming. He wanted-
"I WANT MY DAD! PLEASE..!" he slammed against the door again when the sound of beeping caught his attention.
His head snapped up his eyes widening when the timer struck zero.
BOOM.
Jason wasn't one to complain much.
..Oh, who was he kidding? With all the shit he's been through, he has a fucking right to complain.
Especially when it comes to doing the dirty work of the assassin cult that Bruce's assassin baby mama belongs to.
Jason was exhausted. Talia's sent him on fifty other missions for the past three months.
Training, she said. But Jason knew that was a lie.
Talia didn't trust him.
And to be honest? The feeling was mutual.
She wasn't really the epitome of a trusting adult, especially when she tried to pull that whispering in his ear about revenge type shit.
Jason sighed, glancing down at the sandwich he managed to snag from an unsuspecting vendor.
He did want revenge. But she didn't have to be a creep about it.
He observed the quiet green fields he was walking through.
Jason was a born and raised Gothamite. He's seen it all in the city; he's lived through it all too.
He's heard every single sound and word uttered into the night. To the sirens, to the yells, to the depravity.
The city never sleeps. Even when Jason lived with Bruce, the silence in the manor made him uneasy.
Quiet in the Alley meant something was wrong; something people had to hide from.
Jason followed a footpath, planning on making his way back to the abandoned cabin he claimed as temporary base. Only to be stopped by the sound of a familiar voice.
♪ "...They wept and, turning homeward, cried, "In Heaven we all shall meet!" When in the snow the mother spied the print of Lucy's feet.." ♪
He started walking faster, following the voice. That damn voice.
♪ "...And then an open field they crossed.. The marks were still the same. They tracked them on, not ever lost. And to the bridge they came." ♪
The last thing he heard before he died. Not Bruce, not Sheila, not Catherine, hell, not even that bastard of a clown!
But that fucking cursed song. Not only that but now he was listing to its continuation.
♪ "They followed from the snowy bank, those footmarks, one by one. Into the middle of the plank, and further there were none.." ♪
He came across a willow tree on the hill. Behind the stump, the figure of a person could be seen.
He started up the hill, his boots crushing the blooming flowers beneath it.
♪ "Yet some maintain that to this day she is a living child. That you may see sweet Lucy Gray upon the lonesome wild." ♪
Honestly, was this a sick joke?
Someone singing him a poem about a child's death, only for him to die right after? Was that intentional? The Joker's last bit of torment before he got blown to ash?!
Lucy Gray disappeared in the blizzard, while Jason Todd died buried in the snow.
♪ "O'er rough and smooth she trips along. And never looks behind.. And sings a solitary song that whistles in the wind.." ♪
He reached the top, twisting around the trunk to grab the wrist of the singer that haunted his dreams, the one who taunted him, the one who mocked him--
A young girl sat before him, her dark eyes wide at his sudden intrusion.
Not what he was expecting. He was expecting someone more.. ominous looking?
The colorful embroidery and patches didn't exactly scream "Haunt you in your dreams!"
Jason took in the sight, the green that he didn't even realize had taken over his vision fading quickly.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked.
The girl squawked, looking offended.
"Excuse me?!" Huh, he was right then. Appalachian accent.
"You were there, weren't you? You were the one singing before the warehouse exploded," he explained. "Did the clown put you up to that? Got a good laugh for him, huh?"
Her brows furrowed, shaking her head.
"That man didn't put me up to anything."
"So you admit to being there."
She grimaced at the slip up.
"I had no ill intention.."
"Bullshit. I was screaming for help. You had to have heard me," Jason narrowed his eyes at her. "Or was your stupid singing too loud to hear me? Is that it?"
"What? No" she snapped.
"You don't understand. I'm not allowed to intervene. You're not even supposed to be talking to me right now!"
What?
Jason let go of her arm, leaving the girl to rub at her wrist. "What do you mean by that?"
"I meant what I said."
"Yeah, no shit you did. But explain it to me."
"Why should I? Are you going to kill me if I don't?" She challenged, grabbing the guitar propped next to her, as if she wasn't testing the patience of a former vigilante turned zombie turned revenge-seeking assassin.
"At this point, maybe I should." He wasn't actually. But this kid was really starting to piss him off.
He went to grab for one of his spare knives, just to scare the kid, when he caught glimpse of the guitar strap she slipped over her head.
Embroidered birds perched on branches alongside flowering vines.
The colorful dress, the ruffles, the flowers in her hair, the singing, the guitar..
"You're that bard," he concluded, making the girl's head snap towards him.
“The ageless bard. That’s you, isn’t it?”
He remembered when he was little, aptly listening to Catherine as she told him of her encounter as a young girl.
"They called her the ageless bard because she never got any older," she explained, stirring the pasta as a young Jason watched.
"They say she's been here since the establishment of the city. But I think she's much older than that.
"I remember when I was around your age when I met her. I was walking home late when I heard her singing in an alleyway. What a party that was," she chuckled.
"That was the most fun anybody in the alley had in a while. We were laughing, dancing, causing a ruckus. Neighbors came out ready to complain, only to find we were onto something! Some even helping along by banging up trashcans, bringing out their own instruments.
"In that moment, we felt like normal people. We enjoyed ourselves that night. With no regrets."
Catherine had talked about the bard as if she was an old friend, and to her, maybe she was.
He remembers the nights she was lucid, when her body wasn't fighting against itself. He remembers how she'd tuck him into bed, humming a small tune, mumbling the words,
♪ "Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping. No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping.." ♪
"Well, yes. I guess I am," the girl in front of him admitted, checking to make sure the strings were in tune.
"What are you doing here then? Aren't you supposed to be in Gotham?"
"Are you?" she shot back, the strange look she had earlier now fading, with annoyance taking its place instead.
"I'm supposed to be dead."
"But you're not. If you were, I wouldn't have to be dealing with your questions, now would I?"
"Ouch. Kicking a dead man while he's down? Are you usually this mean?"
"No. But considering how you approached me earlier, I have perfect reason to be," she huffed.
“Fair.”
He plopped down in the grass next to her. Not like he was in a rush now.
They sat in silence for a moment, with only the sound of strumming and the leaves swaying overhead filling between them.
“..I’m sorry you died,” she finally said.
Jason glanced over at her.
“You’re sorry?”
“Yes. I’m sorry that had to happen to you, in the way that it did. I understand why you would be mad. I dangled the possibility of you being saved, when I knew you wouldn’t.”
There were so much questions he wanted to ask.
“So you knew. Why were you singing then?”
“You dying was.. inevitable.”
Jason felt his fists subconsciously form into a grip.
She didn’t look at him, staring out into the fields before them.
“Like I said, I couldn’t intervene. So I thought I’d.. calm you and your mother down. Before you died.
“But I realize now that wasn’t the move. That probably terrified you.”
“It did,” he admitted. He wasn’t going to sugarcoat it.
“Again, I’m sorry.”
“..I don’t forgive you.”
“And that’s fine,” she said earnestly.
The two sat in silence.
Jason wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting there for. But before he knew it, the sun was already starting to set.
“Aren’t you going to sing?” he found himself asking.
The bard frowned.
“..Would you like me to sing?”
“You’re a bard. A famous one at that. C’mon, show me what makes you so special.”
She hesitated for a moment, strumming a few chords before she took a breath and began,
♪ “Are you, are you coming to the tree? Where they strung up a man they say murdered three?” ♪
Jason felt his brain stall for a moment. Was she seriously?—
♪ “Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be. If we met up at midnight, in the hanging tree..” ♪
Jason never heard of this iteration of the song before. Not in the way she played.
♪ “Are you, are you coming to the tree? Where the dead man called out for his love to flee?” ♪
She sang it as if it were an old tale, a performance.
The chords sounded as if she were singing a folktale, as if this song had been something passed down instead of it being from a middle grade novel.
♪ “…Are you, are you coming to the tree? Where I told you to run so we'd both be free?” ♪
It was.. nice. Different. Her version of it.
But that begs the question, how does she know it? If she’s been singing in Gotham for centuries?
♪ “…Are you, are you coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me?” ♪
Where has she been between the years she’s not in Gotham? What has she been doing?
♪”Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be.” ♪
A bard that goes by many epithets.
The ageless bard, the wandering bard, the nameless bard..
♪ “If we met up at midnight, in the hanging tree..” ♪
Jason turned towards her, opening his mouth to ask.
Only to find no one there.
All that was left?
A single flower, laid in the green, under the willow tree, where she once was.
IV
Tim didn’t know what he was thinking.
Out of all the things he’s done, this was probably the most anxious he’s been in a while.
It was supposed to be a simple plan:
Go to Blüdhaven and knock on Dick’s door and get him to be Robin again!
It’s supposed to be easy. He’s done crazier things before!
So why was he so nervous? All he has to do is talk to Dick, and he’s spoken to Dick plenty of times!!
Batman needed to be stopped, he needed Robin!
This was for the greater good, Tim. C’mon, man up!
Though, the farther Tim walked down the street, towards the bus stop, the more his resolve started to dwindle.
What if it doesn’t work? What if Dick gets mad at him and kicks him out? What if Bruce doesn’t go back to normal?—
He was about to turn right back around.
♪ “—knows I've tried to be who you look to. When all the light burns out my pyre.” ♪
Tim stopped in his tracks.
♪ ”Through every inch of these bones, I need you to know. I've felt the warmth, your passion, your fire.” ♪
Looking over his shoulder, sat against the wall, was a girl playing the guitar.
♪ “The movements you chose has kept me inspired..” ♪
She hummed along to the instrumental.
Tim swore he saw green sparks leave her fingers.
♪ ”When I looked in your eyes, I said I know you'll be fine. It's not for me to decide what you do with your life.” ♪
He took a step forward, then another.
♪ “See, I've made mistakes, and it was never a waste.” ♪
Was this a sign?
♪ “Because you are right here. And you'll persevere.” ♪
He stopped in front of her.
♪ ”Through the mud and the storms, this is why you were born! Trust yourself and live it your way.” ♪
“Hello,” she greeted.
“Hi,” he greeted back softly.
She patted the ground beside her. “Sit?”
The boy nodded, settling down.
“What’s a small thing like you doing out here so late?”
“Umm..” He panicked,”I’m going to see my brother!”
“..Wow, really?” she mused. “That’s nice. I was worried for a second that you might’ve been lost.”
“Well, if you don’t mind,” she started. “Can I walk with you? You’re so tiny, it’d be so easy for someone to snatch you up.”
“Hey, I’m not that small!” Tim squawked indignantly.
“So you admit it?”
“Admit what.”
“That you’re small,” she replied, obviously trying to hide a smile.
Tim huffed, definitely not pouting, as he stood up.
“Whatever! Do what you want! But I’m not waiting for you!”
The bard snorted, following his lead.
“Don’t worry buddy, I wasn’t expecting it.”
Halfway through their walk, Tim couldn’t help his curiosity kick in.
“What’s your name?”
She shook her head, not looking at him.
“You won’t remember it.”
”Why?”
She gave him a blank look.
”Because that’s what always happens.”
Tim left Gotham that night, in a bus bound for Blüdhaven.
Hold on, Batman, Robin is coming.
V
Damian al-Ghul was at the ripe age of five when he was tasked with his first ‘mission’.
Dropped off in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by endless miles of tree and wildlife, he was tasked with surviving off of the land for five days.
It was a struggle at first, for the boy was used to the controlled setting of the training compounds back home.
But he managed to adapt. He had to.
On day one, he prioritized shelter.
He ended up settled in a cave after hours of scouting. He started a fire.
And despite the emptiness starting to settle in his stomach, he reserved his energy. He’s trained for this; he can handle the hunger. Just for a while.
On day two, he memorized the route to the closest river. He stored the amount he deemed necessary before trekking back to base.
By day three, he’s managed to bring back small game.
“Only take what is necessary,” was what Grandfather would always tell him. “The land will always provide. We are above greed.”
Yet despite how well he’s done so far, it didn’t last long.
He was hit with food poisoning on day four. He assumed he cooked the food correctly. That was his mistake.
Majority of the day was spent with him lying down in the dirt by the fire, filtering in and out of sleep.
By the time he woke up, it had been well into the evening.
And he wasn’t alone.
Sitting across from him sat a girl, playing a guitar.
♪ “…Hold to me, you’ve nothing to fear. For your dreams are not far away..” ♪
He sat up quickly, being hit with the sense of vertigo as he did.
♪ ”As you lay your head unto rest, may your dreams take over my love..” ♪
“Who are you?” he demanded.
The girl paused, glancing at him.
She grinned,”Would you believe me if I said nobody?”
He growled, slipping out a knife.
“Do not test me! I will end you!” He snapped, his voice echoing in the dark.
In the firelight, with a weapon on hand, the boy believed he succeeded in coming off as intimidating. Akhi would be so proud—
“Put that thing down! Is that how you treat strangers?!,” she ordered. She ordered him.
The audacity of this girl!
“I will not hurt you,” she stated firmly.
“Why are you here? How did you get here?” He will not be easily fooled.
“I go where I am needed the most,” she cryptically replied.
His brows furrowed.
“That is not an answer.”
“You should’ve been specific then,” she answered cheekily.
“I can kill you,” he said instead.
“But you won’t.”
“How do you know that?”
She fixed him a strange look.
“They haven’t tainted you. At least, not yet.”
That stunned him. What did she mean by that?
“But that’s besides the point,” she clapped her hands, snapping him out before the boy could spiral.
“Now, would you like the listen?”
He looked at her blankly.
“Again, I’m not here to hurt you,” she repeated.
“And how can I trust that?” he challenged.
“Because I’m cursed.”
”Cursed with what.”
“To be away from home,” she shrugged.
“So killing you won’t benefit me in anyway. If anything, it would probably prolong my curse.”
. . .
“..Fine. Sing for me then.”
She huffed in amusement. “Bossy.”
Her fingers slid back to their previous spots.
♪ “…Listen close, my son of the west. For your destiny lives above..” ♪
He hadn’t clearly heard the words she sung at the start of the song, the part he woke up to.
♪ ”Though the world is cruel, there’s a light that still shines. In the darkest days of our lives..” ♪
But now that he was actually focused, he could hear the words clearly.
♪ ”When all hope seems lost and you can’t find your way, think of me as you look to the sky..” ♪
“Are all of your songs sad?”
“No, not all of them,” she continued playing. “Why? Does this one make you sad?”
“It feels that way..”
She paused her picking, opening her mouth to apologize.
“Why did you stop?” he interrupted her.
She froze.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t stop.”
“But you just said it makes you sad?”
“It does,” he agreed humbly. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t listen.”
“..Are you sure? I don’t want to make you sad just ‘cause–“
“Is that not what music does? Bring out strong emotions?” he pondered.
“I haven’t felt like this.. in a while,” he whispered, more to himself.
He looked down at his lap, fiddling with one of his spare knives absentmindedly.
A bad habit his mother would usually scold him for. Though, her eyes held a sort of fondness despite her reprimands.
("You look just like your father, have I told you that, Habibi?" His mother whispered, her hands gently brushing away his hair, subconsciously tracing at the curve of his brow.
Too much to count, Damian wanted to say. He wished to finally meet the man one day. The only man that somehow managed to make his mother go soft.)
“..You may continue. I want to listen.”
She looked hesitant.
“Please,” he firmly stated, "Continue.”
She sighed, opening her mouth as the words flowed.
♪ “Child of mine, your future is bright. For your father’s blood is in your veins..” ♪
Damian's eyes closed momentarily.
♪ “In dark times, I pray you will fight. For the world will soon know your name..” ♪
When Damian awoke the next morning, he found himself wrapped in his mother's arms, scolding him for leaving himself open like that.
Yet all Damian could think about, was the gentle melody of that guitar, that warmth he felt.
He wished to feel it again.
VI
For the Dancing and the Dreaming
On rare nights like these, when Gotham’s nameless bard wasn’t singing in alleys, she would often find herself residing in abandoned buildings.
She sat perched on a table, singing to herself.
Even on her days off, she still felt the need to play something.
♪ “..,To love and kiss to sweetly hold. For the dancing and the dreaming.” ♪
She almost giggled to herself. Had this song been released by now? She didn’t know.
Years of travel blended seamlessly. Sometimes she’d forget what this was all for.
♪ ”Through all life's sorrows and delights, I'll keep your laugh inside me—” ♪
She flinched when the sound of broken glass rang out.
She ducked her head to find a certain Robin landing before her.
“—Negative. It seems there is no one here,” he paused when they locked eyes.
“…You’re that bard I met,” Damian realized.
Said bard gave him a warm smile, a wave of recognition overcoming her.
It’s been how long since she saw him? The boy used to be so tiny!
“I knew I was right about you.”
“What do you mean?”
Her smile widened.
“The song i sang to you that night. I was singing about you, Damian al-Ghul.”
“Wayne,” he corrected automatically. He will not allow his father’s name to be disregarded like that.
She tilted her head, her eyes observing him for a moment.
“Ah.. No wonder. You bats grow up too fast,” she chuckled, a hint of mirth present in her voice.
“Am I interrupting your very important mission? Please don’t mind me—“
“Please, come with me.”
Her smile immediately fell.
“..I can’t. That’s not how this works.”
“We can figure this out. Are you not exhausted from traveling for so long?”
“Of course I am,” she frowned.
“Then let us help you. We will get in touch with the Flash and Constantine. They will know how to help you.”
“And what if they don’t?”
“We will find a way. I assure you.”
“No! You don’t get it do you?” she panicked. Why was he so insistent?
“You don’t know how much of an impact this could have! Do you understand that? A paradox! Then I’d have to do this all over again, and that means starting from the very beginning!
“I’ve done so well up to this point. I can’t do this again! Do you understand?–“
The robin suddenly grabbed her hands in a firm grip.
“Breathe, Hiraya.”
Apparently, his words got lost in translation because she choked instead.
“How do you know that?”
“We’ve been searching for you for a while, kid.”
She tensed, looking up to find Jason, who had just entered through the broken window.
“You–huh?” But that would mean..
“You are home, Hiraya.”
An incomplete song, its lyrics now rewritten.
The birds all sang that day, with the flowers blooming brighter.
For the song of Hiraya Manawari, Gotham's wandering bard, has finally reached its end.
Hiraya was finally home.