NOW,

IT WAS IN the same bedroom the next morning Remiel and Dick found her and Damian. Odile was still sitting on the same chair, a book on her lap. Damian sat up on his bed, eyes narrowed at something flashing across his screen. Security footage from yesterday's fight, actually.

Odile always despised looking at footage of her own battles. It was insanely awkward, and it always made her a bit embarrassed. She wasn't sure why. Of course, sometimes she knew she had to watch it to look for clues, see if there was anything she'd missed, but she tried to avoid that whenever possible.

Which was why she was doing her best to focus on her book.

"Jesus," Dick's voice was light and humorous. "Look at you, Damian."

Damian raised his head, eyes narrowed. "Shut it, Grayson."

"How bad?"

Odile placed down her book, noting the page she was on. Her feet landed on the ground and she stood. "His arm's a bit fractured. Not too bad, but enough for it to be affecting him fighting. Got stabbed in one thigh as well. That's a bit more serious."

"Won't cause permanent issues, I hope?"

"Alfred doesn't seem to think so. Thank god." Odile turned her head, sending him a glare. "Took a long time convincing him to stay in bed."

Remiel's brow arched. "Damian, I hope you realise how important it is for this wound to clean nicely."

"I'm in bed now, aren't I?" He'd already paused the video on his laptop, and now he slammed it shut. "I'll be fine. I've survived worse."

"Just because you've had worse doesn't mean this isn't serious," Remiel pointed out. "Dick, fetch me that chair, won't you?"

And so Dick headed over to pull over two chairs as Remiel moved over, giving Odile a one-over. "You good? Your cheek alright?"

"Just a cut. Not too bad, it'll go away."

"Will it scar?"

"If it does, I'll just cover it with makeup and figure out a way to get rid of it."

Remiel sighed. "Fine. Sit down, you. I'll talk to you later. Have to check up on the injured boy first."

Damian looked bemused. "I'm twenty-one."

"Still a child to me. I'm thirty now, for fuck's sake."

"What's wrong with thirty?" Dick asked with a laugh, placing a chair behind her before sitting down on another one. "Thirty's great, honestly."

"Nothing's wrong with thirty," Remiel said hastily, "I'm just making a point to Damian. Stop being annoying. I heard it was Talia?"

"You heard right." Now Damian sounded glum. "Anything from Seraphina?"

Remiel shook her head. "Nothing. You alright, kid?"

"I'm always alright."

"He's not alright." Odile shot him a glare. "No one is alright. Talia wants Damian back with the League, willingly or not. And clearly, she's willing to injure him for it."

"She realises she's the one who sent you here, right?" Remiel asked, leaning back and kicking her feet out. Today, she was dressed in fairly casual clothes. A dark red t-shirt, dark blue jean shorts, her dark hair tied up in a high ponytail. Her face was bare. "My god, it's been nine years since she sent you to Gotham the first time."

"You know what my mother is like." Damian placed his laptop aside. "She's not going to just stop anytime soon."

"I'll see what I can do." Remiel was pensive. Odile knew that look. And at this point, Remiel probably had a better relationship with the League of Assassins than Damian himself. She was, technically, still on good terms with Talia, and she'd always been close to Seraphina.

Until three years ago, Sera used to visit whenever she could.

"You're not going out there any time soon," Dick commented. "Can you walk?"

"Haven't tried yet. I don't think so. I'll definitely need a crutch for a couple weeks."

"Probably a couple months," Odile scowled. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he stays in place and lets the wound heal."

"Add her fingerprint to your door," Remiel commanded, turning her head back to Damian. "I'm not expecting you to willingly stay in Wayne Manor for more than a week. Odile will keep an eye on you."

"Her fingerprint's already saved." Damian rolled his eyes. "Way ahead of you."

Odile blinked, turning to him. "Wait, when? You didn't tell me that."

"Before you arrived." He shrugged. "Seemed right."

"Wait, you're telling me I could have just walked into your penthouse all this time? Hold up, your fingerprint isn't saved in my door, is it?"

Damian instinctively put up both hands in mock surrender, but winced and lowered one arm. "I deleted mine from yours the day you moved in. Don't worry, I'm not a creep."

Dick looked pleased with that. "Very chivalrous of you, Damian."

He scoffed. "I'm just worried I'll drop dead in my penthouse one day. Someone has to have a way in, and I'm hoping it's not going to be Jon smashing all my windows."

"I'm happy to smash your windows too," Dick offered. "Just takes a while to climb up. I can always get out from Odile's side of the penthouse, though."

"You are so annoying, Grayson."

"So you've been telling me for nine years." He sighed. "They grow up so fast, don't they, Remiel?"

"Was Damian ever young?" Remiel asked genuinely.

"Don't ask me," Dick replied with a shrug. "You're the one who's known him since he was an infant."

A lopsided grin appeared on Remiel's face. "I remember the days I used to hold you when you were a baby."

"You were nine then." Damian sounded absolutely exasperated, tilting his head skywards. "Can we stop chitchatting and get to some serious topics?"

"Remiel, can I talk to you? In private?" Odile hopped back onto her feet. Remiel glanced up at her, a bit taken aback, and then nodded.

"Yeah, sure. Damian, don't kill Dick in the meantime, please? Dick, please make sure Damian stays in bed and doesn't injure himself."

"Don't need you to tell me twice." Dick gave a mock salute. "So, Dami, how's life been, hmm? Injuries aside?"

Odile pulled Remiel out of the door, shutting it behind her. "Not here," she mumbled. "I'm sure we'll find a nice empty room somewhere."

"What do you want to discuss?"

"Quite frankly? Not much. I just wanted to give Dick and Damian some space. He needs to talk to someone eventually."

"He's not doing well mentally either, then?"

Odile gave her mentor a knowing glance. "He camped at mine a few nights ago. The day after he got back. Slept on my sofa. Said he didn't want to be alone. Damian Wayne not wanting to be alone, do you realise how ridiculous that sounds?"

"I do, very much." Remiel tilted her head. "But if it's you keeping him company, I'm not all that surprised. You two, well, you three, I suppose, alongside Jon, you've always been thick as thieves."

"When we were younger, sure, not these days."

"You know, I've always tried very hard not to pry, but..." Remiel opened the door of the last bedroom down the corridor. Clean, with chairs against one wall. They both sat down, shutting the door behind them. "I've still put together some type of timeline in my head. You two fell out after the summer when you were sixteen. You avoided Gotham until now because of it."

"Yeah, pretty much."

Remiel shook her head. "I was wondering about that. Didn't make sense why you were avoiding Gotham for dear life. But at the same time... that year was also when you'd stopped going off in search of the culprit behind your sect's massacre." She paused. "So I assume you completed it that year. Or you made peace with it, somehow."

"Good observation." But she didn't like where this was going.

"And that was the same time when Seraphina stopped visiting. She'd call me sometimes, but she'd never visit. Except for that one time when I told her you weren't there, and wouldn't be there for a couple weeks."

Odile sucked in a quiet breath. "How long have you known?"

"Let me finish. I'm still deducing. The Eyu Sect's destruction... it had something to do with the League of Assassins?"

"That's the simple way around it, yes."

Remiel's eyes shut. "Directly responsible?"

"Ra's and Talia led the assault."

"Oh, fucking hell. No wonder you wouldn't come to Gotham. Did Seraphina...?"

"She wasn't there. She didn't know at the time it happened, but she knew afterwards. That's why she was always so kind to me." Odile's shoulders slumped. "She hid it from me. Watched me search in vain for year after year and never said a word."

Remiel swore under her breath. "So... is it over now? Or do you still want to do something about it?"

"It's over now," Odile said, shaking her head. "I'm not about to tear down the entire League of Assassins. Ra's al Ghul is dead. Talia is alive, but she wasn't the one who ordered it. And she's Damian's mum."

"Is that why you're not going after her? Because she's Damian's mum?"

"Partially." Odile shrugged. "And what's the point? I'm not going to kill her. Bruce would never talk to me again. He might have me arrested, really. Maybe not. But he won't be happy, you won't be happy, Damian won't be happy, no one will be happy."

"Are you okay?"

"I think so." Odile placed her hands on her knees. "I think I'm fine. It's been a few years. I'm looking ahead, living in the moment. I'm happy."

"Are you sure?"

Odile nodded. "I'm pretty happy here, honestly. I'm doing what I like. Like, yeah, I'll never be completely fine, I have way too much trauma for that... we all do, really. But I'm as fine as I could be."

Remiel sighed. "I am really glad to hear that. Sometimes, I wonder if I was a little too... hands-off with raising you."

"No. You did the right thing. I wouldn't have reacted well if you'd pushed too far into my situation. You saw what happened when I was fourteen."

"I guess." Remiel tilted her head. "Sometimes I felt like I was too engrossed in my own issues to give proper attention to you."

"No, you did perfectly." Odile reached over, clasping her hand over Remiel's. "Really. I wouldn't be here without you."

Remiel sighed. "I doubt that. You're a smart girl. I couldn't have done what you did at nine. Or fourteen. Or sixteen, apparently. Have you talked to Bruce about the charity stuff?"

"I have." She tilted her head. "I think I'll just focus on working with the Martha Wayne Foundation for now. Too early for me to start my own charity initiative."

"That's fine. You have so much time. Slow and steady wins the race. Living in the penthouse fine? Nothing to worry about there?"

"Nothing," Odile assured. "I'm used to living by myself, don't worry. And Damian and I can help each other out."

"That's good." She sighed. "Nice to have you two looking out for each other. What do you think he's talking about with Dick right now?"

"He'll be reluctant, and then he'll give in and talk about how he feels towards his mum and Bruce and everything else in between." Odile could imagine it happening. "He'll open up to Dick. He usually does. Bruce is right about one thing. You, me, Dick. We're the ones Damian genuinely talks to. Along with Jon."

"Very small group of people. But hey, at least he has someone to talk to. Better than nothing."

"Isn't that a sad way to think of life?"

Remiel shot her a glare. "We're crime-fighting vigilantes who dress up in black and kick the living crap out of criminals from all paths of life. We're not okay, Odile."

"We're okay as we can be, and that's good enough." Odile leant back. "I kind of want to go check on them. But I'm scared I'll be interrupting something important."

"Give it a few more minutes," Remiel said with a yawn. "Your text scared the living hell out of me yesterday, really. Dick was a bit more composed about it. I wanted to drive over immediately—it's not even that long of a drive, especially on our motorcycles."

"It's fine." Odile shrugged. "We'd have been too tired to talk to you yesterday anyways. I was busy talking to Bruce, Damian was busy getting stitched up by Alfred."

"Who else was on duty?"

"Jason. But he only got a few scratches, like me. Left pretty early in the night. Honestly, I'm fine. Just a few cuts here and there. It'll all be fine in a couple days."

"I can tell. But still. Seeing you in action might make Damian feel worse."

"I know. I'm taking a break for like, at least a week. Also, I'm busy. Still have artists to hunt down and persuade into joining my initiative."

Remiel shook her head, amused. "Bruce must be overjoyed to have you here. Someone to attend galas with him. Finally."

"I'm sure he's used to them. And he just doesn't go to the ones he doesn't want to go to. He's Bruce Wayne, he can do that."

"Yeah, but he doesn't want to go to them alone so he drags one of us along." Remiel grinned. "None of us want to go along. It usually ends up being Damian. Biological son and all."

"I'm sure he's good at those events."

"Just because he's good at it doesn't mean he wants to be there." Remiel stretched. "You realise you'll never be able to escape now. If you're representing the Martha Wayne Foundation, Bruce might just have you go by yourself."

"Yeah, no. Not doing that by myself. At least not immediately. I need to spend some time forging connections and making friendships first. You can't just throw me off the deep end. It's not very ethical, Remiel."

"What, you can go off at sixteen and take revenge for your entire sect, but you can't face a ballroom of rich people at nineteen?"

"Very different concepts, Remiel."

"I'm just saying." Remiel stood up from her chair, strolling towards the window. "Nice view here, by the way. Has Bruce said anything about throwing a gala here? I'd love to see that. Though it's a lot of work for Alfred."

"Bruce will hire people. It won't all be on poor Alfred."

"And the people hired will have to be organised by Alfred, thus adding workload onto him anyways."

"Fair." Odile tilted her head. "Maybe I'll help if that ever happens. It might. I don't think Bruce is opposed to the idea."

"Tons of people creeping around Wayne Manor? I'm not sure how safe that is, I'm not going to lie."

"We can take turns patrolling," Odile snorted. "There's enough of us to make sure people are where they belong."

"Seems extremely complicated for something meant to be enjoyable." Remiel sighed. "I still remember when I lived here. When I first got here. My god, time passes so fast. Enjoy where you are in life right now, you'll want to go back one day."

"You want to go back to when you were nineteen?"

"Not nineteen." Remiel hummed. "Sixteen, maybe. And I'd make some very different decisions. Leave the League earlier, for starters. Do you ever want to go back in time?"

"No. And that's how I know I'm happy right now. There's no time or place I'd rather be."

slight chance i'm missing tomorrow's update! unfortunately updates will be getting more sparse since i'm going back to school soon. i'll try my best to do at least once or twice a week, which shouldn't be too much to ask for. but i'm not sure what my workload is when i'll get back, so...