PRESENT DAY

Dick trailed through the halls of Wayne Manor before reaching his youngest brother's door. It was perfectly polished red oak— freshly re-stained after Jason smashed a bicycle into its frame a few years back— because the "blood son" had wanted the room closest to Bruce's, and wouldn't accept anything less than excellence. Dick wrapped his knuckles on the hard surface, impatiently tapping his foot as he crossed his arms. After a few moments, the door opened and Damian stood there in a black turtleneck and pants.

"What is it this time, Grayson?" The child sounded cold and bored, hands clasped behind his back, staring at Dick in a way that said he wanted to be anywhere else but talking to him. "Did Koriand'r hurt your feelings again?"

Dick scowled. "First, Kori and I work things out like adults— I don't get my feelings hurt."

"Right." He obviously didn't believe him.

"Second, I need your help."

"Don't you always?"

Dick took in a deep breath. "You just need to come with me."

"You want to find the photo albums I referenced the other night."

"Wha— no!" Curse Bruce for having a kid with the woman who ran the League of Assassins. Sometimes, dealing with a younger brother who could practically smell when you're lying got irritating.

Damian hummed in disinterest. "If you're only here to lie to my face, then stop wasting my time."

"What are you even doing? Wait, isn't it..." Dick looked down at the phone in his hand. "Monday? Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"I don't require socialization with classless, ill-tempered simpletons."

"W— okay? Then what are you doing right now that makes you so busy?"

"I've almost completed my study on biochemical pharmacology. I started the book yesterday afternoon. I figured it was a better use of my time than 'physical education.'"

Dick stared at him for a long moment. After four kids, Bruce had really just given up, hadn't he? He'd woken Dick up every day Monday through Friday without fail. Did he even bother to check if Damian went to school or not?

"Just help me find the damn albums."

Damian smirked, striding past him and down the hall. "All you had to do was tell me I was right, Grayson. Was that so hard?"

Dick rolled his eyes. He had to get back to Bludhaven soon— he didn't need to deal with Damian's attitude.

"I looked through every shelf, but I couldn't find them," Dick explained as he watched the smaller boy walk down the stairs with an air of royalty, gliding over each one like it was choreographed. Knowing Damian, it most likely was. Dick had always preferred the banister when he was younger.

Damian let out a dignified humph. "It reassures me to know that I'm the only one who knows father around here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" They rounded the corner into another hallway.

"Obviously, after I brought my awareness of the photo albums to father's attention, he moved them. Not that I can blame him, of course, I would do the same if I had you as a child."

Dick choked out a disbelieving laugh. "Bruce did not come home and hide them from me like I'm some nosy third-grader."

"I believe the more appropriate term would be first-grader." Damian pushed the door open to the study. "And, evidently, he was rightfully so. You are looking for them now, are you not?"

Dick scowled. Okay, so maybe he was nosy. But isn't that what Bruce trained him to do? Be a good detective? Besides, he was intrigued by this mysterious "other life" Bruce lived, the one that involved the Elias family... somehow. The life that every single one of his brothers seemed to have at least some inkling about but him.

Maybe this was what it was like for other people to learn that Bruce was Batman. Dick nearly scoffed. Just when he thought he had Bruce all figured out, after fifteen years with the man, there was apparently still more to learn.

"So what?" Dick finally said. "Aren't you the least bit interested in this whole Bruce and Meredith Elias thing?"

"Hardly. From what I've gathered, they seemed to have been... acquaintances at some point. Personally, I think it's rather comical that father gets unsettled by her presence."

Dick chuckled. "That's an easy way to put it. The guy nearly blew a gasket when he found out that Tim was working with her."

"Drake's a pillock who can't follow direction." His youngest brother walked over to the large desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of black gloves. "If he can not learn the trades of big business without the help of Elias, he has no place running Wayne Enterprises. Father ordered that we stay away from her."

"But that's the weird part!" Dick exclaimed, following Damian past large shelves filled with books. "Has anyone ever questioned why we can't talk to Meredith? She's one of the most powerful people in Gotham, wouldn't Bruce want us to be friendly with her?"

"Perhaps he just wants to keep her at arm's length, considering her aptitude. I'd rather trust father's word than your pathetic, deluded fantasies, Grayson."

"It's not— ugh. Fine! Fine. I'll shut up about it if you can answer this question: what did Bruce like to do when he was your age?"

They reached the end of the long line of shelves, where a small reading nook was nestled in the back of the study. It had two plush, red chairs and a table in the middle with a small lamp on top. Dick had spent a few nights reading in there when he was younger, but he knew that Damian was probably much more familiar with it, considering the way that the child tore through every book in the library.

Damian paused in his strides, tilting his head ever so slightly. He didn't respond for a moment. "What does that matter?"

"Think about it— he started the whole Batman thing at twenty, right? So... what did he do before then? He didn't just magically appear at nineteen to become a hero. That's almost two decades of unaccounted time."

"He attended the Academy."

"For twenty years? And even then, who did he hang out with? Did he play any sports? What was his favorite subject? We don't know any of the answers— at least, I don't know, and I've been here the longest."

"All of that information is irrelevant to his position as Batman."

"And what about his position as your father? Doesn't it bother you that this... Devin guy, knows more about Bruce than we do? I just learned yesterday that he was actually the one who taught Bruce how to drive, not Alfred."

Damian furrowed his brows in the way he did when he was in deep thought. He straightened his shoulders, stepping forward to one of the red armchairs and removing the cushion, setting it on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked as he watched Damian slip the pair of black gloves onto his hands. The child reached down, digging his fingers into the crevice of the chair and pulling what Dick thought was just the fabric, up. The tan cloth was wrapped around some sort of panel, disguised to apparently replicate the lining of a regular chair. Damian set the panel aside, revealing a wide, black safe.

Dick was nothing short of shocked. "How long has this been here?"

"Since I first arrived," Damian answered plainly, twirling around the knob of the safe and pressing a few of the buttons on the keypad. "I did some research on the manufacturer— I believe it was originally used for guns— most likely the doing of Thomas Wayne. Obviously, father would've disposed of those. It was empty the last time I checked, but it seems like an optimal spot for hiding books."

Dick was now convinced, he seriously knew nothing about this house or his father.

The lock clicked and his brother pulled open the door to the safe. To no one's surprise, Damian was right on the money. Inside laid a few plain, black albums.

Damian plucked one out, sitting back on the discarded chair cushion. Dick greedily snatched the other two and copied his brother as he fell into the second seat.

"I didn't see this particular one last time," Damian noted as he studied the album.

Dick opened the cover of the one in his lap. He was greeted by pictures of a young Bruce, probably around the age of seven and looking exactly like Damian with blue eyes. Dick had seen Bruce like that before, mostly on the painted portrait of him and his parents in the master bedroom.

He flipped the page. Now images of a blond boy started to appear, with a wide, toothy grin, and his arms around Bruce in every picture. Dick furrowed his brow. There was another boy, older and taller, with brown hair and a big smile. Dick came to the conclusion that it was the man he had met yesterday in the kitchen— Devin Elias.

But who was the little blond kid?

In other pictures, there was a girl, and this time Bruce was the one who had his arms wrapped around her. She had brown hair and pretty blue eyes, always in a dress of some pastel color. He flipped the page and found an image of her kissing Bruce's cheek, who was beaming from ear-to-ear in a fashion that Dick didn't think the man was capable of anymore.

It was Meredith.

The album was filled with photos of them doing various things, and it looked so... normal that it wasn't distinguishable from any other photos of regular kids, which was slightly terrifying. The final picture in the album was the four children, Bruce in the center with a cheap party hat and a black cape. Dick almost busted out laughing. How ironic.

Dick looked back up at Damian, who had surprise written all over his features. He must've noticed Dick's staring.

"I didn't realize father was so..." Damian didn't take his eyes away from the pictures. "Well-acquainted with Green Arrow."

Green Arrow. Oliver Queen. The blond kid. That was him, and the realization of that fact made these photos all the more wild and borderline utterly impossible to believe. That couldn't be real. Dick had very few interactions with the Star City vigilante outside of the capes and cowls, which was mostly due to the fact that Bruce couldn't stand the guy. Dick remembered when the rest of the League founders had to convince Bruce to let Oliver sit in on the meetings— the Bat wasn't very happy that week.

Dick picked up the next album. Bruce was a little older in this one, with a smile that only showed up every few pictures, but even then, it was just a turn of his lips. He seemed dark. This was probably after his parents had died. Oliver was only in one or two of these.

Meredith had started to get pretty, growing into what she looked like now. Her hair was dyed a few shades darker. She was usually at a distance from Bruce, with maybe a few of them standing next to each other or with an arm around the other's shoulder. Bruce seemed uncomfortable and Dick chuckled. He'd never thought that his father went through an "awkward phase."

Devin occasionally showed up, now obviously a teenager, much taller than Bruce but still looking ridiculous. Some pictures were obviously not forced— some were just random shots of Bruce sitting at the kitchen table or Meredith walking down a sidewalk.

Who was taking all of these? And why did Bruce keep them and compile them in chronological order?

Dick closed the second book and set it down on top of the other. "When the hell did Bruce get sentimental?"

"It was Pennyworth."

"How do you know?"

'Well—" Damian paused, looking somewhat angry or jealous or a mix of both. "Well, it wasn't actually Father. This was all part of some plan. He would never willingly do... this."

"It kinda looks like he did."

Damian scoffed, tossing the album at him. "That's absolutely preposterous. Look at that and tell me that's the same man who goes out every night as Batman."

Dick opened the last album. They were now all teenagers, probably around Tim's age. He had never really seen pictures of Bruce as a young adult— it was weird to imagine him like that, and even weirder to see it in faded photos through plastic screens. He looked like Bruce, but at the same time, not at all. He was leaner, with messy hair and teasing eyes and a boyish smile. Most pictures featured Oliver— who was once again occupying almost all of the pages— and Bruce in Gotham Academy uniforms.

"Oliver went to the Academy?" Dick questioned out loud.

"Keep looking."

Meredith was absolutely stunning— she had her hair dyed closer to black and cut shorter, with thin brows and lip gloss in every picture. If she was this age now, Dick wouldn't have hesitated to ask her out. Damian was right, she did look even more attractive with darker hair.

There was a picture with her in a green dress and Bruce smiling next to her in a matching tie. It looked like a... like a prom. This was so unreal. Batman didn't go to school dances.

Dick's mouth kept dropping as he flipped the page. Bruce and Oliver on a yacht in the middle of a teal blue sea, with open shirts and board shorts and what looked like martinis. The rest of the images were in a similar fashion: Oliver passed out on a kitchen counter, photographs taken by paparazzi with the two boys in tuxes as they entered a club.

There was one that stood out: Bruce in a red shirt with some crappy-looking Devil ears, Oliver sporting a crooked halo on his head and an arm slung over Bruce's shoulder. Bruce was mid-popping a bottle of champagne, with a grin on his face that matched Oliver's for the first time in the entire album.

They looked like stupid boys, flaunting their money with big smiles and nice cars and hot women that were probably way too old for them. Not like men who beat up criminals and worked on a team of elite heroes but couldn't spare each other more than a few words at a time.

There were some more of Meredith by herself, usually candid and taken when she wasn't looking. Dick imagined Bruce sneaking random pictures of the Gotham businesswoman in the Manor kitchen. Okay, that was too much. That was so weird.

He slammed the cover shut, staring at Damian who looked back at him with a disturbed face.

"Believe me now?" Dick asked, tossing the boy the album.

"This is... this is a setup!" Damian jeered, snatching all three books and shoving them back into the safe.

"A setup?" Dick repeated. "By who?"

The younger boy arranged the albums, probably in the way that they were originally placed by Bruce so the man wouldn't suspect anything. "By Pennyworth. Or perhaps father himself."

"I'm not sure what all this is, but I don't think it's that."

"Or Queen," Damian whirled around and squared his jaw. "This is his doing— it has to be. That ineffectual Bruce Wayne rip-off. Probably drugging father the entire time!"

Dick pursed his lips. "Wasn't your mother the one to do that?"

"Shut up!" The top of the safe snapped shut. "This is all a rouge."

"Maybe Bruce just had some wild teenage years?"

Damian was now visibly peeved. "He did not. Father doesn't get involved in nonsensical and outlandish behavior like you or like... like Todd."

The way he spat the last name told Dick that his youngest brother was now pissed. Damian— who prided himself on being "the blood son" and always ridiculed Dick and Jason for partying or liking girls or drinking— probably wasn't too thrilled to realize his father wasn't above acting like that out of his own free will.

"Denial isn't a good look on you, Little D."

"Don't call me that." Damian snapped the panel and the chair cushion back into place. He turned to Dick with a hard glare. "Perhaps we should pay Queen a visit— give him what he deserves for enslaving father into his schemes."

Dick scrunched his face up as he followed a marching Damian back through the bookshelves. "Uh, I don't think Bruce got enslaved by Oliver Queen."

"Then we go find father and demand answers." Damian spun around to face him, stopping near the door of the study. He ripped the black gloves off and shoved them in the pocket of his pants.

"Because that always works so well," Dick doubtfully hummed. "Why don't we go to Tim first? The one who actually knew Meredith existed? If he doesn't know anything, maybe he can dig something up online."

Damian seemed to somewhat calm down by being given a plan of action. He straightened his posture. "I say we interrogate Pennyworth."

Dick shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. Whenever Meredith is brought up, he always shuts it down. Whatever happened with her and Bruce, Alfred was most likely a part of it."

Damian snorted emotionlessly. "Never thought I'd see the day when Pennyworth works against us."

"Yeah, well, never thought I'd see the day when Bruce willingly drinks shirtless martinis on a yacht with Oliver Queen, but here we are." They exited the study, heading back to the main living area of the manor. "I have to get back to Bludhaven— I've already been gone for two days— but I'll be here next week for that Incan gallery opening at the museum. In the meantime, corner Tim and see what he knows."

For probably the first time in his life, Damian nodded in agreement at the directions from Dick.

Dick stopped. "I don't mean that physically."

Damian frowned.

"And whatever you do, do not let Bruce know we're looking into this."

"Do I look like a moron to you, Grayson?"

"You look like a kid that should be in school. If you physically threaten Tim, I'm telling Bruce you've been skipping."

A low growl rose in the young boy's throat. "Very well. I'll just have to make do with verbal abuse instead."

Dick rolled his eyes, making his way back up the stairs to go and pack the few things he had brought with him. "Just don't let Bruce find out."

* * *

Oliver stepped out of the elevator with swift strides, turning a bright smile to the Elias Incorporated secretary sitting behind a gray desk. "Jan! Looking gorgeous as always."

He balanced the bags of food he was carrying on one arm, extending a cup of coffee to the redhead with the other. She gave him a warm smile, which was unusual from the typically stoic woman. "Mr. Queen, you didn't have to."

"I know, but I like to." He flashed her a wink. "Also, I'm hoping you could clear Meredith's schedule for me. I don't want the food to get cold."

The woman immediately frowned, setting the drink on her desk. There was the Janette he knew and occasionally loved. He gave her his best "puppy dog" look, tilting his head slightly, and after a moment, she rolled her eyes.

"You're lucky you're cute, Mr. Queen." She turned her attention to her computer screen, shifting the mouse to click on something. "I suppose I can move her five o'clock, but I can't promise she'll be happy about it."

"Eh, don't worry. I'll take care of the angry bear. You know I love you, Jannie!" he called over his shoulder as he walked down the hall to her office. As he neared the door that was cracked halfway open, he heard Meredith's voice drifting from inside.

"Janette, why does it say my five o'clock call just got—"

Oliver pushed open the door, grinning widely at the brunette and holding up the bags of food proudly. Meredith's face fell into a scowl, turning back to the phone on her desk.

"Nevermind."

The businesswoman sat back in her chair, clasping her hands. She gave him a half-hearted glare. "You can't just show up and cancel my calls whenever you feel like it."

"I brought Meditteranean," he explained, slipping his brown dress shoes off and setting the food down on the table in her sitting area. "It's from this new place a few blocks over. Thought you might like it."

He watched her sigh as he sat down on one of the green couches, pulling a takeout box from the plastic bag. She eventually stood up, sliding her heels off and walking over to sit across from him. She picked up the second bag and tucked one leg under the other.

"Gyros," she noted as she opened the white box. "Interesting."

"Hey, hey, don't forget the fries. I paid extra for those." He shoved a few into his mouth.

"Because God knows you can't afford them."

He chuckled, propping his feet up on the coffee table, ignoring her dirty look. "I was in the area, had some business to take care of uptown. Figured I'd stop by and see how you were doing."

She shrugged, using her fingers to pick up some fries, which moderately shocked Oliver. Meredith rarely ever ate food with her hands. "Busy. Had to take care of an HR nightmare with a Kord Industries representative this weekend."

"Oh, don't tell me it's that Patrick Jonas loser."

"That's the one."

He groaned. "He's such a douche. Mega asshole."

"No kidding," she snickered. "I got him fired, finally."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Well about time! Good on Ted."

"Yeah, only took me and his entire board of directors to convince him to do it."

He chuckled, sinking back into the plush cushion as he dug into his food. It was good to finally get a moment with Meredith outside of business— that didn't happen too much anymore with both of their schedules. He tilted his gaze up, studying her briefly. He was hesitant to ask her what he really came here for. Oliver considered himself a good liar, he did have an entire city fooled into thinking he was nothing more than a party boy, but this was Meredith.

He decided just to go for it. "So, how're your adventures with the Justice League going?"

Meredith made one of her rare faces that said don't even get me started. "Interesting. They're all surprisingly more... personable than I anticipated."

He furrowed his brows. Personable? Sure, maybe Hal and Barry came off as their usual comedic selves at the meeting, but Oliver wouldn't consider any of the League founders particularly personable. "What does that mean?"

"I just—" She caught herself, glancing up from her food. She looked decisive, biting the inside of her cheek before scoffing. "I'm sort of... ugh. Friendly... with Superman, I guess. If that's what you'd consider it."

He narrowed his eyes. Wasn't Clark just mentioning how he didn't like Meredith?"

She read his unspoken question. "I'm going out with him and some other people tomorrow night. It's just drinks, nothing serious."

Oliver froze, not being able to stop himself from expressing his disbelief. "Drinks? What, do you know him outside of Superman, or something?"

He prayed she didn't give him the answer he thought she was going to say. Meredith had only been involved with the League for, what? Like, a week? Not even. There's no way Clark already exposed his identity to her. Didn't the League founders just have a long discussion last week about how none of them would get close to Meredith?

"Sort of."

God damnit, Clark.

He played it off as pleasant surprise. "Really? Do you know everyone, then?"

He shoved his nervousness aside by pushing more fries into his mouth. She didn't seem accusatory, or remotely in a bad mood. She probably didn't know anything about him, right? But then again... it was Meredith, and maybe she was just playing cool and secretly knew everything.

"Wonder Woman introduced herself to me. I met Flash the other day."

He nodded slowly. Diana liked to blatantly make it known that she was Wonder Woman, so that didn't matter. Barry might've been a little trouble, but he didn't really have anything to do with Bruce Wayne or Oliver Queen, so he supposed that was okay-ish.

She chuckled, looking back down at her food. "Batman's also just... strange."

His heart nearly stopped and his blood ran cold and his entire body tensed up at the mention of the Bat. But she didn't look pissed like Oliver suspected she would've if she knew who Bruce was.

"You know Batman?" He had to will his legs to fall lazily again. "What happened to you thinking he was a creep?"

"No, I don't know who he is. And he's still a creep— he just likes to show up randomly in my office and lecture me about what I'm doing wrong."

Oliver nodded, forcing out a short laugh. "Weird."

Anger simmered through his body as he continued to eat his food, tearing off a piece of pita bread with slightly too much aggression. What the actual fuck was wrong with Bruce? (Well, there were a lot of things wrong with Bruce, but only this one mattered at the moment). All the Bat did was bitch and complain and yell about how this was "Oliver's fault" and how the entire team needed to get it together because they couldn't risk Meredith finding out who they were, yet he shows up in her office on the daily for a chat? Typical Bruce— the rules always apply to everyone but himself. What a bastard.

"Yeah," she agreed. "He acts like he's so furious that I'm working with him, but I'm still going to the next meeting on Wednesday, so he apparently isn't that mad."

Oliver painted a smile on his face. Time to change the subject before he erupted into anger. "Anyway, uh, I'm seeing this new chick! It's going pretty well so far."

"Really?" Meredith raised an eyebrow. "She's not just a one-night stand?"

"Nah." He shook his head. "She'd probably beat my ass if I did that."

She laughed. "What's her name?"

He swallowed another bite of food. "Dinah. She's blonde, smokin' hot, and drives a motorcycle."

"A motorcycle?" Meredith repeated with a grin on her face. "Doesn't sound like a high society kinda girl. Where'd you meet her?"

Oliver smirked, telling some fake story that didn't involve Black Canary totally drop-kicking him in the Watchtower training room, going on a mission together, and then somehow agreeing to a date. After another ten minutes of catching up with Meredith, Oliver finally stood, cracking his back with a groan.

"Well, I've gotta go. I have a call in ten." He walked over and put his shoes back on.

She furrowed her brow. "So when I have a call, you can just interrupt it as you please, but you immediately need to run off when you have one?"

"That's 'cause my call's important, Mare-a-licious." He grinned cheekily as he made his way to the door.

"And who's supposed to clean all of this up?" She gestured to the open boxes of food left on the table.

He paused in the doorway, glancing back momentarily. "You have arms, don't you?"

"Oliver Jonas—"

"Bye, Mare!"

He rounded the corner back down the hall, hearing her cursing him out from behind. He picked up his pace as he strode around the corner and fixed the collar on his blue shirt. Waving goodbye to Janette, he stepped back into the elevator and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, knitting his brow in irritation, finally stumbling upon the number he hadn't called in years.

As the elevator began to descend, he held the phone up to his ear impatiently. The muffled ringing filled the small space. After about five rings, a man answered the phone.

"Wayne Manor, this is Alfred Pennyworth speaking."

Oliver huffed at the all-too-familiar British voice.

"Hey, Alfred. It's Oliver Queen. I need to talk to Bruce."

* * *

Hi everyone! Feeling a little down today because I have a busy week ahead of me, and I've received a few PMs recently containing hate comments, which always slightly discourages me. Hopefully this book is living up to everyone's expectations, and hopefully I can make it through the week haha. Thank you for all of the supportive comments so far, I really appreciate them! Thanks for 4k+ :)

xo Alexa