5 YEARS LATER

The house felt unusually quiet that afternoon as Carla stood cleaning the dishes. The windows and doors were all wide open to encourage the relief of a breeze to flow through the space, ceiling fans whirring to combat the thickness of the hot summer air.

The quiet wasn't unusual but stillness was, and for some reason, Carla noticed the drop of the breeze when the wind chimes stopped clinking on the patio when there was almost always something or someone else causing a racket elsewhere in the house.

Harvey, Rachel and the twins had left a handful of days prior after spending a week of their European summer in Sicily at Carla's home, basking in the golden sunshine and catching up on life that was long overdue. It had become somewhat of a tradition for the Dent family to visit Sicily in the summer, now making the trip across the water six years in a row. While Carla still missed the days where she and Harvey would bicker and quarrel in the courthouse corridors and make up over happy hour cocktails in the same day, she was grateful to still have him in her life at all.

Alfred and Giulia had moved out of the beautiful mountain-top villa almost four years ago. Carla had begged them both to stay though her pleas ended up being useless in the end, the two of them insisting that it was time she had her own space, and she needed it, too.

"Mama! There's a man in the garden."

Carla frowned when her son came dashing into the kitchen, eyes wide with intrigue rather than panic as he raced to her side and began tugging on the leg of her linen trousers, water dripping from his feet and the ends of his swimming shorts.

"A man? Are you sure it's not Cisco? Or Uncle Angelo?"

"It's not them, mama," he shook his head.

She pursed her lips and put down the plate that she'd just finished drying, wiping her hands clean on a small towel before sliding on a pair of black sandals by the door.

"Stay here," she said to her son.

He nodded and stayed exactly where he was stood while Carla walked out of the house and across the patio. The gate was open and the man in question had his back to the her, though Carla didn't doubt whose face she would see when he eventually turned around.

She inhaled sharply and froze her steps at the edge of the patio, the stone garden path ahead of her leading straight to him while blooming flowerbeds either side flourished beautiful colour across a space that suddenly felt shaded by his presence.

Carmine Falcone turned around slowly, swallowing once when he locked eyes on his daughter. He looked thinner, that was her first observation, and older, too. His hair was greyer and eyes darker, skin more lined and cheeks hollow, though he still dressed suave in a grey suit with his blazer thrown over one shoulder, a garish gold watch on his left wrist and a signet ring on his little finger.

"The kid, I didn't mean to scare him."

"Nothing scares him. What are you doing here?" She said.

"Is he-"

"What are you doing here?" Carla repeated, firmer that time, arms crossed at her chest.

Carmine took a breath and moved a few brave paces down the cobbled path, though didn't go any further than that. He found hostility in his daughter's demeanour and although hadn't expected anything different, had hoped deep down that he would've been greeted with something closer to the warmth that the sun glazed him with.

"The man who did what he did to Bruce, I saw to it that he got what he deserved."

Carla stiffened in her bones though her face remained unchanged, "How do you know about that? Jim Gordon kept that under lock and key, he made sure nobody knew."

"The guy was thrown into County with two broken knees, said a girl shot him after he shot her boyfriend. He wouldn't confess who it was but I put two and two together, with the help of some friendly encouragement, of course."

For better or for worse, Carla hadn't spent a single day not regretting not putting a bullet between the eyes of the man that had shot Bruce. Whether it was morally corrupt or not, she wished she'd killed him when she'd had the chance for even daring to raise a gun at the man she loved, and so to hear that he was no longer breathing settled a small, bitter piece of her soul to rest.

"That's not an answer to my question."

"I served my time, I'm a free man."

"That's still not an answer."

He kissed his teeth and lingered over the edge of what to say next, an overwhelming sense of deja vu sending a bolt of something cool running down his spine as he recalled his daughter standing in the same spot at six years old in a blue swimsuit with a dolphin on the front and a football tucked beneath her arm.

"I've had a lot of time to think, and a lot of time to regret, too. Life is short, too short, and being locked inside that cell made me realise that I've been missing out on the things that really matter. I'm sorry for everything that I put you through, Carla. There's no excuse and I know that my apology will never be enough, but I'm hoping that it'll at least be a place to start. I want to know you again, the way I used to before I let you down."

Carla had survived almost fifteen years without a father and although she'd found pieces of the man she once looked up to in the other men in her life, it had been a void that could never be filled. She didn't need a father the same way that she'd never needed a partner or a friend, but Carla would have been lying to herself if she hadn't had a shift in perspective on her relationship with Carmine after having a child of her own.

It was a strange realisation and one that hurt a lot more than Carla would've liked. Whenever she looked at her son she couldn't imagine doing anything to put him in danger, ever saying anything to hurt his feelings or threaten him or anybody he loved. Her son was a part of her and she saw that in him, but she also saw pieces of her own father in him, too.

It made her wonder why Carmine had ever been able to hurt her in the ways that he had, how he could've looked at her and felt nothing when she looked at her son and felt everything. There was endless pride and an infinite degree of love, devotion and selflessness that she'd inhabited since the second he'd been born. Carla couldn't imagine ever losing that feeling and yet her own father had, and she was able to recall just how cold it felt to look into his eyes and see nothing behind them.

Something felt different as he looked at her then, however. It was as if some kind of veil had been lifted and his face held softness, sincerity pooling in his eyes as he offered her his words and nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps that was all he had or perhaps that was all he knew Carla would contemplate valuing after so long, but either way, she noticed.

"So what, you think you can just show up here and be a father? After everything you did to me?"

Carmine was thrilled that his daughter had turned out to be such a strong-willed woman, though it was only a matter of time before that came back to kick him in the teeth. He deserved it, he would admit to that at the very least, but he'd thought about little other than making amends with the only child he had left for the days and nights he spent inside Gotham County Jail.

"I don't expect you to welcome me back with open arms, Carla," he shook his head, "But I'm trying here. I know I can never make things right but I want to make them better. Is the boy yours?"

Carla just nodded.

"Well maybe I can do things right with him. How old is he?"

"Four," Carla swallowed.

Carmine's brow furrowed, "Four? So he's-"

"Who is it Mama?"

With his bright curiosity clearly getting the better of him, Carla's son came running out of the house barefoot with a hand shielding his hazel eyes from the sun, standing glued to his mother's side as he shared glances between her and the stranger halfway down the path.

Carla put her hands on his shoulders and held him in front of her legs, brushing her thumbs across his olive skin, beautifully tanned from being in the sunshine almost all day for the whole summer.

"Does he need to know who you are?" Carla looked at Carmine, "Or will you be somebody he'll have forgotten all about in a week's time?"

There was no part of Carla that felt particularly compelled to extend forgiveness to her father, but when she thought back to the way he'd loved her as a little girl, she refused to deprive her son of a the potential of a relationship as nurturing as theirs had once been.

Time would tell whether he would stand by his pledge or not and although she wanted to do nothing but protect her son from everything that had ever gotten to her, Carla agreed with her father on one thing: life was too short.

"I want to be clear I didn't know you had a son when I came here," Carmine spoke slowly after a deep exhale, "I came here for you, Carla, but this is the most wonderful surprise. I want to be a part of both of your lives, and I mean that honestly."

Scepticism lived inside of Carla's bones and that would never shed its weight, especially not towards Carmine Falcone, but her life had changed since five years earlier and her son had turned her world the right way around again, brought her happiness and taught her patience in a way she'd never experienced before. If nothing else, Carla hoped her own father would gain that from the little boy too.

Carla looked down at her son who was waiting for her to answer his question, his hand holding her own and swinging their arms back and forth.

"This is your nonno."

The boy's brows lifted, "Like Alfred?"

"Yes," Carla smiled and brushed his hair from his eyes, "Just like Alfred. Why don't you say hello?"

Carmine's chest tightened when the boy turned around to face him. He took it upon himself to walk over to them both, crouching down in front of the child and offering him his best attempt at a friendly smile, something the world hadn't seen from him in years.

"What's your name, kid?"

He looked back at his mother for reassurance, her gentle nod giving him exactly what he needed before he turned back around to meet the eyes of the stranger.

"Marco."

Carmine grinned, "Marco. It's nice to meet you, Marco. I'm Carmine, but you can call me nonno."

Marco placed his small hand inside his grandfather's larger one and gave it a gentle shake, pink creeping into his cheeks at the interaction as he suddenly felt overcome with a shyness that never usually affected him.

He stared at Carmine and wondered why he was wearing a suit when it was so hot outside, his eyes trailing from his face down the sleeves of his white shirt and eventually landing on the watch decorating his wrist.

"That's cool," he said, pointing to the gold timepiece.

"You think so? You can have it one day, when you're bigger," Carmine's smile widened and he felt himself relax when the child smiled back at him, "Tell you what, I do have something that I can give you now."

"What is it?" Marco asked, head tilted as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

Carmine hauled in a breath, hesitating for a moment before answering. He looked into the child's eyes for a few seconds and Carla watched as her father's face wilted into something resembling sadness, or as close as a Falcone could get to feeling it, anyway.

He reached beneath the collar of his shirt and lifted a gold chain from around his neck, dangling it in front of Marco from the ends of his fingers.

"I had two little boys, they looked just like you. This chain belonged to both of them. Your Uncle Sonny had it, and then your Uncle Dante, and then it came back to me," he swallowed and blinked away a veil of something tender from across his eyes, "I think it's only right that it goes to you next."

Carmine lifted the chain over Marco's dark hair, settling it around his neck. The boy grinned and looked down at it with happiness lighting up his eyes, his small hands tracing the gold that felt cold against his chest.

"There," Carmine said, a gentle hand on the boy's cheek, "Now you look like a real Falcone."

"It suits him, but he's still half Wayne."

"Daddy!"

Carmine's jaw dropped when Marco sprinted past him like the wind, running barefoot across the grass straight into his father's open arms. Bruce waited by the gate for his son to reach him, throwing him up into the air and catching him safely in his hands, scattering kisses across his neck and face while he howled with songbird laughter that almost brought tears to his eyes.

"Bruce," Carmine breathed in shock as he stood up straight, "I thought you were dead."

Tossing his son over his shoulder, Bruce sauntered down the garden path with silver aviators over his eyes and the sleeves of a white shirt rolled up past his elbows, maroon swim shorts reaching his mid-thigh.

"Sorry to disappoint," he shrugged, "But equally, I thought you were supposed to be in County for another two years."

"I got tired of belonging to a city full of men pretending to be gods and others turning into monsters. I might've been behind bars but I can still pull strings, Mr Wayne, you know that."

"I do," Bruce nodded as he reached the end of the path, looking Carmine directly in the eye and extending his hand towards him, "Thank you. You gave me this."

Carmine looked down at the hand and then back up at Bruce, then at Marco who had wriggled his way around to sit comfortably on his father's hip, pulling his sunglasses from his face and putting them on himself instead.

He shook his hand and felt no animosity, just understanding. Carmine had known about the secret Bruce was hiding since the day he bumped into him at the cemetery, but the innate urge to put his daughter's desires first kept his mouth sewn shut.

It stayed that way too, never uttering a word about the identity of the Batman to anybody. Carmine had seen how deeply Carla's loyalties ran for Bruce Wayne and the revelation put things into perspective when he thought about the roles being reversed, too. Both of them had been willing to die for each other and to Carmine, that was more than enough of a reason for them to deserve to live.

Carla watched from a few feet away. She and Bruce never spoke about Carmine but he'd crossed her mind often, more so as she watched Marco hit milestones in his first few years. Giulia had been there and Alfred had too, and although they were family to Carla, the little girl inside of her, deep, deep inside of her, wished that her own father was there to see it all happen as well.

She'd accepted that he couldn't be and had no plans on reaching out, the bitterness and pain of losing her mother and brothers still residing permanently within her making it easy for her to hold a grudge. Though her stubborn nature seemed to be defeated when she didn't have to make the first move, and as she watched her husband shake hands with the man that had made their life possible, she took a step towards the idea of letting go.

"Come in the pool, papa," Marco said, squirming out of his father's grasp and pulling on his hand.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming."

Bruce made a quick effort to slide a hand around Carla's waist as his son dragged him towards the swimming pool, pressing a messy kiss to her cheek before his feet were carried away from him.

Carmine watched for a moment as Bruce and Marco stood on the edge of the pool, not able to overhear their conversation but smiling as he heard the child shriek with laughter after pushing Bruce into the water.

"I didn't mean to intrude on your family life like this, but I would like to be a part of it. I'll call back around in a couple of days, maybe we can talk more then, if you'd like?"

Carla swallowed her pride, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Are you offering to cook, Carlotta?" He smirked, hiding just how warm his soul had become at her hospitality.

"No," she replied, "Do you still know your way around a kitchen?"

"I do."

"Good. Marco wants bolognese."

Carla didn't help while her father got to work in the kitchen, instead standing guard with a glass of wine in her hand that she sipped mindfully, her eyes flittering between Carmine and the boys outside.

"You're married," he nodded to the ring on her finger, "Are you happy?"

She stared at her father and felt heat from his words, a genuine interest framing his voice with a thread tied to the core of his beating heart.

"We got married in the church in the square with less than ten people there," Carla looked outside, holding back a smile as she watched Marco jump from the edge of the pool into Bruce's open arms, "And yes, I'm happy. We're happy."

Carmine just nodded. He didn't expect anything more from her response but one word was more than enough for him after he'd been tortured by the thought that Carla had suffered the loss of the only man she'd ever truly loved for the last five years.

To sit and enjoy dinner with her was a gift Carmine never thought he'd get, and to be asked by his grandson to play football while the sun went down was something he'd never even dared to dream about, the type of life that he'd always felt was never meant for him.

He left the house with a promise to return the day after. Carla watched Marco give his grandfather an excited hug goodbye and although she reserved that affection herself, she gave him her word that she'd give him a chance to prove himself to all three of them, as a family.

"Night buddy, straight to sleep. I love you."

"Night Daddy, I love you too." Marco yawned as Bruce turned out his bedroom light, leaving only a small, yellow glow coming from a lamp in the corner.

Carla pressed a kiss to her son's forehead and tucked the duvet tighter around his shoulders before walking towards the door, "Buonanotte, ti amo."

"Ti amo di più mama."

She closed his bedroom door and followed after Bruce who was halfway down the hallway, trailing after him as he grabbed their bottle of wine and wandered back outside towards the pool.

The air was still hot despite the sun having gone down, a cloudless, starry night above their heads that reflected on the stillness of the water they dipper their toes into, sitting in bathing suits on the edge of the pool.

"Are you OK? That must've been a shock," Bruce asked, wrapping a hand around her thigh.

Carla stared into the water and watched the ripples shake the image of the moon like falling sand, "It was. I don't know how I feel, but for Marco's sake I'll give him a chance. After all you were right, he did give us this."

She'd loosened her grip on the resentment that she felt towards her father once she found out what he'd done for Bruce. Carla's feelings towards Carmine would never be straightforward but too much blood had been shed for her to not find a will to care about a second chance, even if she believed he didn't deserve one.

"You don't have to let him in," Bruce's tone was quiet, "But what he did for me, it wasn't really for me. It was for you, and I think you know that."

She fell silent in thought and kept her lips sealed, sighing quietly before drinking some of her wine and sliding into the pool, her shoulders rising up higher with a shiver at the cool temperature.

Bruce smiled and followed her lead, exhaling through pursed lips as he adjusted to the water, wading across to Carla and pulling her in by the waist. She wrapped her legs around him, arms comfortable around his neck until a gentle hand traced down his chest, fingertips brushing over a six-inch scar above his heart.

"I can't imagine raising Marco without you," she whispered.

A shiver ran down Bruce's spine at the thought, useless regret at a notion that didn't and would never hold any truth. He lifted her chin with a gentle finger, holding her eyes with his own strong gaze and cupping her face with a tender hand.

"You'll never have to. I told you once that you'll never have to do anything alone and that promise turned into a vow the day I made you my wife. I'll stand by it forever. I'll stand by you, and I'll stand by our son."

She ran her hands across his broad shoulders, feeling his muscles tense beneath her palms as he pulled her in tighter and kissed her lips beneath the stars. Carla sighed happily against him, nails lightly digging into his skin as he squeezed her thighs beneath the water.

"This cycle of bad luck, this past that haunts us," she sank her teeth into her bottom lip before resting her forehead against Bruce's, hands racing along his neck and up to his jaw until she held his face in her hands, feeling the hollowness of his cheeks and sharpness of his jaw against her, "It can't win."

Bruce felt the ice of her wedding ring against his flushed cheek as he gazed into her almond eyes, seeing strength and desire looking right back at him as she clung to him like he was all she needed, like he was all she and her son would ever need.

And he would be there for them, without the weight of their dark past weighing down on his shoulders, because it was so clear to him now that darkness didn't define him, and it wouldn't define his family either.

"You don't have to follow the path. Burn the path, angel."

THE END

an;;
stop I'm actually going to bawl my eyes out I can't believe this is over!!! It really feels like such a full circle ending for me and I hope it does for you guys too. I can't believe the response I've had to this book, I say it all the time but I never think anybody will be interested in what I write and my mind is blown by the kindness of everybody that reads my work. Thank you so so much, from the very bottom of my heart.
I'd love to know if you enjoyed this story, and if you have any requests or ideas on what kind of book you'd like to see from me next!
Love you forever angels <3