Chapter 6
Leslie could say she had a very long, very hard, very fulfilling life.
She had once been friends with the late Thomas Wayne and had been one of the first to learn of his and Martha’s deaths. She was a close friend to Alfred, had helped the poor butler to raise Bruce into the man he is, helped that poor scared boy become the determined, sometimes bullheaded, man he is today. She opened her clinic in the heart of criminal activity, right near Crime Alley, so she could help those in need, regardless of background, so long as they kept to her ‘No Violence’ policy.
She didn’t need any stupid powers or batorangs to make sure her clinic remained peaceful.
Leslie never agreed with Bruce’s decision to turn to vigilantism; she VERY much protested the children’s involvement, upset when his children-adopted or otherwise-had turned to it. The only relief from the situation was knowing they had an adult with them, to guide them, to patch them up, to berate or praise them.
Bruce Wayne was certainly not perfect, the boy couldn’t even brew instant hot chocolate, but he tried.
Or…
He had until he met his challenge to his ideals.
She was less than enthused at the treatment of Damien Wayne-Al Ghul. The boy was corrupted from birth, ignorant of the world, and made to be honed into the dark prince of society.
And Bruce treated him as such.
He would tell her and Alfred and Richard of his dislike for the boys’ past, most likely blaming him for the crime his mother committed, but he did not get to know the boy.
No one in that stuffy old manor did.
Oh, he had certainly been a little shit when she first met him, nothing but piss and vinegar and shined over with the poshness of a classic Bond villain with twice as much pride.Jason certainly would’ve clashed with him before they realized their pasts were too coincidentally horrible.
But as time flowed, as the boy was denied the title of Robin, as he learned, he had grown.
Yes, he still had a certain irksome way about him, but as she had found his pup scent blending into her clinic, as she found him in the comfort of little Asian markets and less than known Middle Eastern cuisine shops, as she found him easing as the comfort of familiarity with a far-off language rolled off his tongue.
Comforts of home would certainly ease tension in anyone, so long as efforts to help were there.
(And Bruce had not…for all his speak of injustice, the man was equally blind. It was the humanity in him.)
So, when she found her helper missing; had heard word-of-mouth spread that Zaghtour, their little one, was not seen since the start of December; had found little communication from Bruce, that she had known something was wrong.
And now, thousands of miles away, on an impulse vacation, she found out from some news outlet that Damien was missing.
Missing for a month.
In all her years, she hadn’t felt fury like this in years, fury that clashed with devastation. Where was he? Was he okay? Why hadn’t Bruce approached her? Why not any of his boys or girls?
It was in this swirl of emotions, that Dr. Leslie Thompkins felt something land on her glasses, her body trembling with unbridled fury.
“Search Party, I am Hawkmoth. A missing boy, so much like a nephew, practically a grandson to you, lost by those you thought you could trust. Lost, out there in the world, waiting for family to find him that told no one of his missing status. If those you trusted do not wish to seek him out, it is only right that you do so. In return, all I ask is for Ladybug’s earrings and Chat Noir’s ring.”
In all her time in Crime Alley, she had never been tempted by the allure some of the villains could offer, but with the festering fury and need to findhimneedtofindhim bubbling inside, she whispered, “Yes Hawkmoth.”
~
“Tikki…look at him…,” Marinette worriedly implores her friend, fingers brushing over his noir colored hair, his fever pitching up, “he’s getting so warm now…” maybe she should skip classes for the day, her little tigre was getting the fevers and body aches of his presentation.
Tikki settles on the boy’s chest, the pup breathing quick and raspy, “Marinette, this is what happened to you and so many others before. It’s a change and a challenge, but he’ll be just fine.” She reassures her charge, gazing fondly at her chosen.
She doesn’t tell her chosen that she could feel Destruction’s presence flaring under his skin, each passing moment nearer to his presentation allowing the kwami’s of the world to know who was best suited for them. Humans did not sense the energies typically, but Marinette held an ability similar enough to see which miraculous suited a holder best.
“He’s just so warm,” a whine crawled out of her, tucking another blanket around the nest. Need to protect, need scent all over him, need to protect pup. My pup, mine.
“He’ll be just fine. Tell your mama and papa, though. Presentations need the whole pack’s presence.” She reminds her little charge.
Just as she went to reply, a loud screech shattered through her ears, Damien bolting up from the bed with a loud groan, before the computer in her room flared on. On it, a woman with silver white hair braided down her back, pale blue skin, and four pairs of eyes, with only one of the pair being covered by glasses, donning a hunting outfit, glared through the screen.
“I am Search Party,” came the American voice, the English edged with fury, “I will not stop in my search for Damien Wayne! All of Paris will join me in my search! WE WILL FIND YOU, DAMIEN!” She roars, the technology cutting out before Marinette could stammer out something.
“Dr. Thompkins?” Damien rumbles, looking entirely confused in his hazed state of mind. “What…what she doing here, su-surely the clinic….” the rest of his words were lost, his fever obscuring his ability to speak.
Marinette worries her lip between her teeth, gently pushing the presenting pup back into the nest, “Damien, you need to rest. Lie back down.” He nods, even as he growls in a hint of frustration.
“Know her…why she here? Can’t be. No one knows, can’t go back.”
He lies back down, tossing about as he falls into a fitful sleep. Marinette only hoped she returned before the fever could worsen at the height of presentation.
~
Kent was watching him, azure eyes tracking the paperwork strewn about, “Bruce…Bruce, why didn’t you call for us? Hell, why didn’t you talk to Diana? To me?”
Knowing damn well he wasn’t going to be able to look through the case file on his son’s vanishing act, the dark knight set aside the papers to look into Clark’s eyes, exhaustion creeping back up his spine, “We…Clark, we didn’t notice until he’d been gone a week.” Shame floods through him at the admission, furious at his own failure again, “And it was Tim who noticed him gone too. Timothy.”
At the wince from boy wonder, Bruce couldn’t help but agree. The fact that Tim was the one who had discovered his absence spoke a lot about their neglect of the youngest Wayne family member.
“And as much as it pleases Ra’s and Talia enjoy tormenting us, they’re even angrier with me for losing their heir.”
To that, Clark had nothing to add, because Bruce knew he had well and gone into fucking up territory that no amount of working could fix. Oh sure, the media might be able to adjust the whole thing into a sad public figure disappearance, but every super and person in the know would know the damning truth.
Bruce Wayne had lost another son, another Robin.
~
“You understand your orders?” Spoke the voice from the shadows, only the haunting green visible through the smoke. “We will grant you the freedom you crave, whatever weapons you wish, once you complete this.”
“Yes, Master.” The boy answers, kneeled before the other.
“Complete this for us, find my grandson, and you will ensure your vengeance on those who never cared for you at all.” The voice promised, fanning the flames of the other.
With another agreement, Jason Todd was released back into the world, his once fully blue eyes now a menacing green as they glared out at the setting sun. He would find Damien Wayne-Al Ghul, he will find his ticket to vengeance.
~
“Tikki how could…” Marinette tears up, gazing down at the ring in her palm, memories of the earlier fight she had with Chat following Search Party’s defeat replying in her head, “tell me he didn’t just give us up?”
But the Kwami couldn’t comfort her chosen, not when her cheesehead’s ring lay on Marinette’s palm.