Doors Wide Open

Rory got home in the early hours of the morning.

She shuffled to the kitchen and opened the cupboard. She grabbed a cup and filled it with water from the tap. Jemma had told her that she had installed the best filter there was so there were no nasties in it, regular or Gotham special alike.

She gulped the water down in three mouthfuls. She slammed the cup back down on the counter, the glass almost cracking.

Tonight was a headache. Those stupid Bats are a menace.

Rory did all she could to answer Red Robin’s questions as vaguely as possible. Robin kept trying to butt in but was shut down by Red Robin each time. Rory got the feeling that Red Robin was trying to stop Robin from insulting her.

Robin was a feisty little guy, but Rory would never say that to his face. Their small fight, (if you could call it that), felt like a training session. Neither side wanted to actually hurt the other but rather see what they could do. Robin wasn’t trying his best. His best would easily overpower Rory. He was too well-trained, and Rory had only had basic combat training. Just enough so that if was ever caught, she wouldn’t be an easy target.

She filled the glass again and walked to the spare bedroom she was currently calling home. She reached up to tap the pod behind her ear, the suit retracting. She peeled it off and put it in her bedside table drawer. She put the glass down, much lighter than before, and slithered into bed.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she was asleep in a matter of seconds.

Jemma was true to her word and walked into the apartment at 6:03. She clicked the door shut behind her, careful to not wake Rory up. She put her keys in the bowl as she walked past towards the kitchen. When she passed Rory’s room the door was ajar. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she pushed it open until she could see the rest of the room.

It was bland. It was the spare room after all. Fast asleep on the bed, Rory was starfished. Her head facing the door instead of on the pillow.

Jemma snorted and then closed the door.

Rory was a bit strange. For someone who was thrown into another universe, she was quite chipper. Jemma thought so anyway.

Jemma was once again struck with how lucky she was. Her wildest dreams just put out on a platter for her.

What are the chances!?

“A gala?”

Rory had just woken up and walked into the living room to find Jemma sitting on the couch, a grin on her face.

“Yes, a gala. We just got a massive grant from Wayne Enterprises and we’re celebrating,” Jemma said with an even bigger grin.

“Right,” Rory said, drawing out the word. “And you’re telling me this why?”

“Because I want you to come,” Jemma said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“A gala?” Rory asked again. Jemma groaned and put her coffee cup down on the table.

“Yes. A gala. Do you want to come or not?”

Not all that much, no. Hanging out with a bunch of scientists and rich people was not her idea of fun.

Rory had been undercover once at something like this. The sheer amount of small talk and mansplaining she had to listen to almost made her give up her cover just so she could leave.

But…then again. The rich had a tendency to gossip and what better way to find out more about the universe she found herself in?

And Jemma was looking at her with puppy eyes that would rival Puss in Boots.

“Fine,” Rory admitted defeat. Jemma’s grin came back, splitting her face. “What am I gonna wear though?”

“I was thinking we could do some shopping today. Get yourself some casual clothes as well. You can’t keep wearing my stuff. If you go back to your universe wearing my favourite shirt, I’ll drag you back myself,” Jemma warned, a teasing glint in her eye.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Rory had insisted on going to a thrift store.

She didn’t want to spend Jemma’s money on nice clothes if she was going to go home and leave them there anyway. She would take them with her if she had the option, but chances are that she won’t choose when she’ll go home. Plus, in the store she picked, all proceeds go to charity.

She bought enough clothes for a week. Then they moved on to an actual mall where she bought some more underwear and socks. Buying used underwear was just nasty and Rory wasn’t quite that desperate.

When the time came to get a more fancy outfit for the gala, Rory let Jemma take the reigns. Rory didn’t do fancy. The fanciest thing she had worn was given to her by Ellie and she only wore it once, to Ellie’s birthday. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy it. There’s just not enough time to dress up when you’re running from murderers.

Rory sat on the bench in front of a rack filled with dresses. Jemma sifted through it like clockwork, taking one off the rack, assessing it, then putting it back for a reason Rory could only guess at. Eventually, she picked a sleek, sage green cocktail dress. She held it up against Rory, nodding approvingly at her own work.

Jemma pressed the dress into Rory’s hands and then motioned toward the changerooms. Rory got up obediently and walked over.

Once changed into the dress, she looked over it in the mirror. It fit like a glove, the V-neck not going too far down.

“Are you done? Come show me,” Jemma called out. She sounded like a little kid on Halloween. Rory came out of the changerooms, doing a little spin to show Jemma every angle. Jemma clapped her hands together, her eyes lighting up.

“It’s a little casual for a gala, don’t you think?” Rory asked. While the dress did look nice, it wasn’t exactly gala material. Jemma waved her off.

“When I say gala, I really mean nice party. That’s how it was described to us anyway,” Jemma explains. “You like this one?”

Rory looked down and examined it one last time.

She did look nice. She felt good as well. Who knows when she’ll get another chance like this? To live this life? To have this kind of freedom?

Her life back home was simple, well, it was for a time. She worked for a small café, went home, checked what was happening with the others on the run, did some light stalking (she might have kept tabs on some people, shhh), went to sleep, and did it all again the next day. It hardly ever changed. The only people she spoke to were her coworkers.

When you say it like that, it sounds so sad.

She liked it regardless, what other option did she have. But now that she gets to break that routine and be free? The possibilities are endless.

She nodded wholeheartedly. “I like it.”

Jemma had that night off so they had a movie night. They had decided on one that Rory was sure she had seen before but couldn’t pick where. Jemma had gone to bed early, Rory getting up to go get her suit. Jemma stopped her before she could grab it though.

“Nuh-uh,” she said, waggling her finger. “I want you to get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow. And if you get a massive bruise or something, how are you going to explain it?”

Unfortunately, she had a good point.

Rory reluctantly got ready for bed and had one of the longest sleeps she can recall.

She slept well past midday, waking up to Jemma singing in the kitchen. Sluggishly, she got out of bed and greeted Jemma.

“Did you hear those cats fighting?” Rory asked, trying ever so hard to keep a straight face. Jemma looked puzzled for a moment.

“No?”

“Must’ve been something else,” Rory said, letting a smirk play on her lips. Jemma caught on and put a hand to her chest in faux offense.

“My singing wasn’t that bad.” Jemma flicked her on the arm with the dish towel. She tucked the towel onto the hook, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Almost time to get ready.”

“What? We’ve got plenty of time,” Rory said.

“Yeah, but I wanted to show you the progress we’ve made at work, remember? We won’t have time to do that after the party,” Jemma replied. Rory made a noise of agreement before going off to shower.

Rory was in and out of the shower in about ten minutes. She tried not to use too much of Jemma’s products. Staying in her house for free was bad enough.

Rory was on the fence about going to see Jemma’s work. While she was excited to see how much progress they had made, she wasn’t too keen on getting her dreams crushed. Based on what Jemma had told her, they weren’t exactly on the edge of some breakthrough.

But it was her only option. Like hell she was going to come up with the technology to jump universes.

(She could hardly work the microwave. Rory insists that it’s because of the differences in the universes, but Jemma sees right through that.)

Jemma’s work better be getting more efficient from this grant. Rory would rob a bank if it meant donating the money to more resources to send her back.

Okay, maybe she wouldn’t rob a bank just yet, but she was pretty damn close.

Now that she was thinking about it, robbing Bruce Wayne would be much more effective. He most likely had more money, being the Tony of this world. She wouldn’t even have to steal it. She could make her way into his finances and donate it. That doesn’t count as theft, does it? Again, she would have to find someone to do that for her since the microwave felt like rocket science.

It’s a weird microwave, alright?

As Rory stepped into her room, she found a small jewelry box sitting on her bed. A small card was left on top. Rory picked it up and opened it.

A little something to remember me by xx

She tossed the card on the bed and picked up the box. Once flicking it open, a silver necklace shimmered in the light. The pendant had an opaque green gem that was about the size of her pinky nail.

She ran her hands over the chain, the metal cool on her skin. A chill went down her spine that warmed the small of her back. Jemma must have gotten this for her.

She stepped away from the bed over to the dress on the hanger. She slipped it on, fitting just as perfectly as it had in the store.

She took one last look in the mirror, picking up the necklace on the way out.

She found Jemma in her room putting the final touches on her makeup. Rory knocked lightly and Jemma spun around, brush in hand. She took in Rory, a smile lighting up her face.

“You look nice,” Jemma said. She turned back to the mirror, swiping the brush over her eyelid. “Did you find the necklace?”

Rory nodded before, “Yep. It’s really nice, you didn’t have to.”

Jemma waved it off, placing the brush down. She looked over Rory again.

“Do you want me to do your hair? I’ve still got to do mine and we’ve got a little while before we’ve gotta head off,” Jemma offered. Rory had never been big on doing her hair. The most extravagant thing she had done was plaits. Once again, not something you worry about trying to survive.

She could’ve gotten into it in the past two years, but whenever she did it felt wrong. She had gone so long not caring about it that when she tried to embrace that side of life, it felt too far out of her comfort zone. It was the same thing with makeup; lipstick on a pig. Something she would never get the hang of, so why try?

“I think it’d look good straightened,” Jemma commented. “It won’t take too long.”

But now that she gets to break that routine and be free?

Rory nodded, if a little hesitantly. Jemma got up and dragged a stool across the room then patted it. As Rory made her way over, Jemma untangled the cord and plugged it in. They sat in silence for a few beats before Jemma took the necklace out of her hand. She clasped it on, fingertips skimming her nape. Jemma tested the heat on her own hair.

“Yep, that’s good,” Jemma said, moving closer to Rory. Rory furrowed her brow.

“Doesn’t it take longer than that?” She might not have used straighteners a whole lot, but she’d seen others.

“No? It only takes a few seconds.”

“Right,” was all Rory could say.

This was definitely the universe messing with her. She had noticed a few more differences in her time here. Celebrities having different names or not existing full stop. Whole new countries. A bunch of historical events that have changed slightly, didn’t happen, or something else happening entirely.

The list could go on and on. Friday had said she was fairly close to connecting to the local satellites and internet, that it was only taking so long because of the way it was configured here.

Jemma passed the straightener over a few more pieces of hair, a slight burning scent tickling her nose.

“And this is the results from the last experiment.” Jemma motioned toward a screen displaying graphs. “Like I said, it’s pretty early days but we’re making good progress.”

Rory looked over the results, not knowing what most of it meant, taking Jemma’s word for it.

Rory walked around the office, long coat (borrowed from Jemma) swishing on the impossibly clean floor. There were screens showing data for a whole range of things that were a mystery to Rory. Jemma flew around the office, typing and clicking to show Rory a new set of findings. Rory nodded along, understanding most of what she was saying.

Every once in a while, Rory could’ve sworn Jemma’s eyes literally flashed with enthusiasm.

They might not have been very close to a working model, but Jemma certainly wanted it. That fact made Rory’s heart lift just a tad. Jemma would go above and beyond to help Rory go home.

Jemma spent the next half-hour giving Rory a TED talk on all the processes and how it all worked. About a quarter of it actually stuck in Rory’s mind, but she appreciated the sentiment.

An alarm went off, bouncing off the walls and echoing back. Jemma checked the time and swore under her breath.

“We better get going otherwise we’ll be late,” Jemma said, picking up her own coat she set down on the back of her desk chair. Rory rolled her eyes.

“Oh no, what a pity. We’ll have to find other times to make small talk,” Rory said sarcastically. “It’s fine. We’ll get there after all the boring stuff.”

Jemma laughed dryly then hurried Rory out of the office.

“You’ve obviously never seen the traffic at this time. It will be a miracle if we make it all.”

Both of them speed walked down the hallways, passing locked doors and late workers. They reached the basement in record time, hopping into Jemma’s car. They drove out onto the street, a light rain coming down.

The roads weren’t nearly as bad as Jemma was making it out to be. Sure they were a little late, but not so much that someone would comment.

Jemma parked the car around the corner, assuring Rory it would be fine in this area of town. They walked to the venue, using their coats to stay dry.

When the door swung open, the warm inside enveloped them. Their coats were taken from them by a bored looking attendant. Rory probably shouldn’t have given it to him. Leaving her suit in the pocket was definitely not her best idea.

Another set of doors muffled chatter, or it would for a normal person. Rory could hear every word clearly. Those doors were opened for them and the people closest to the door turned to look. At first, they had mild looks of disgust, then they recognized Jemma and they burst into polite greetings.

Jemma took the lead, going over to them, shaking hands and kissing on the cheek. Once the initial pleasantries were taken care of people began to look over at Rory.

“Oh, and this is…um…” Jemma left the sentence open, letting Rory take over. Rory plastered a winning smile on.

“Her niece. Rory, her niece.” Thank you spy work.

A cacophony of ‘nice to meet you’ and ‘I didn’t know you had a niece’ then the conversation turned back to Jemma.

Rory took the opportunity to slip away before they could start to ask more questions about her relation to Jemma. Jemma could make things up about Rory, but Rory couldn’t do the same for her. She already had a life here.

Rory picked her way through the crowd. A few people asking who she was here with, and Rory directing them over to Jemma. One older man decided that the conversation didn’t need to end there. He kept prattling on about the stock market or some such. Rory nodded and yes’d, hoping to come up with a good excuse.

“I’m sorry sir, but I need to go to the bathroom,” was the best she could come up with. “Maybe we could continue later.”

Bullshit.

She turned away with the man mumbling to himself. She walked in the complete opposite direction to the toilets, toward the food spread.

They had platters of all kinds, ranging from cheese to fruit, to sandwiches and rolled meats. Plates were stacked at the end and Rory took one, aiming to pile her food as high as it would go. She walked along the tables, taking one of everything. She could always come back for more if she wanted.

Once she’d reached the end of the table, there were jugs full of various beverages. Rory decided to play it safe and get some water. She’d probably need it after her ‘plate’ (it was more of a pile).

She balanced the pile as she lowered it onto the table, bending at her knees to make sure nothing would fall. She filled a cup to the brim and she brought it up to her lips. She slurped a few mouthfuls so it wouldn’t be too much trouble to carry around.

She’ll have to find Jemma soon to find out where they’re sitting. She slowly spun around, searching the crowd, taking a long sip in the process.

Her instinct was whispering at her to listen.

I am listening.

But she wasn’t, not really. If she were, she would be able to hear everyone’s heartbeat perfectly, every rustle of clothing, the electricity buzzing, so she tries to block as much of the superhearing out so she seems normal. When she’s Redback, it’s a different story. She needs to hear everything when she’s in the field. But now? She has to act like a normal person.

Rory listens to her instincts and listens more attentively. That would help her find Jemma. She takes another sip.

There was a light clack of footsteps behind her, someone she hadn’t heard before she listened. Rory turned around to face them and was met with the teenage CEO of Wayne Enterprises and the kid of Bruce Wayne: Tim Drake.

Rory was still listening, his heartbeat cutting through the mess of noise.

The water caught in her throat. She slapped a hand to her mouth, stopping herself from spitting water all over him. Because, wow, wouldn’t that have been embarrassing? Good thing she stopped it, making the water come out her nose instead.

Rory spluttered, coughing into her hand. Tim took a step back, reaching to the table and grabbing a napkin. Tim held it out and Rory took it, still struggling.

She wiped her face, hands, and the front part of her dress where the water had dripped down.

“Holy shit,” Rory croaked. “Sorry about that. It’s just that you’re…you.”

Which…wasn’t a lie. That would be a normal reaction for a teenage girl in this universe, right? Running into the nepo baby of the century at the buffet wasn’t something that happened everyday.

She’d done some reading about him on her first day and had since seen some reports of him around. She wouldn’t have had that kind of reaction to meeting this guy in any other place, but the fact that his heartbeat matched Red Robin perfectly and he snuck up on her? Not to mention he was at an event that Rory was sure no one under the age of twenty would attend.

“It’s okay,” Tim said in an all too familiar voice. “I get that sometimes.”

Rory scrunched up her face and the napkin.

“Mhmm.” She turned back to pick up her plate suddenly wanting to go find Jemma again.

“What are you doing here? I’ve never seen you at one of these things before,” he asked, voice smoother than his interrogation a few nights ago.

“I’m with Jemma, the scientist,” Rory said. Tim cocked his head and opened his mouth. “Niece.”

“Ah.” Tim nods like he expected that. Rory also nods, more condescending. She picks up her plate and takes a step in the direction she last saw Jemma when her spy curiosity takes over.

“What are you doing here? I thought that the CEO of Wayne Enterprises would have better things to do.” Like fighting crime in a cape.

“I wanted to make sure the money that we donated here was going to a good cause. Of course, it’s not like we can take it back now, but still,” Tim explains. He looks over the crowd still milling about and Rory does the same. Fewer people were standing now and Rory could spot Jemma taking a seat at a table in the back corner of the room.

Rory decided to leave her cup at the buffet, not in the mood for another incident. She took one small pastry from the top of the pile and stuffed it in her mouth, just a little too big for one bite.

The lights cut out, one spotlight remaining on, drawing everyone to look at the stage. A man walked onto the stage wearing a very nice suit. He held a wireless microphone that he brought up to his mouth when he reached the middle.

“Welcome everyone, thanks for coming. The reason for tonight’s celebrations is to commemorate the grant been given to us by Bruce Wayne. We also have a few special guests here tonight who, with some convincing, will hopefully make a donation as well. Now, I don’t want to be up here all night so, without further ado, our guest of honor: Bruce Wayne!”

A man waltzed out of the curtain, waving as the crowd applauded. The man handed the microphone over.

There he was. The man himself: Bruce Wayne.

Up on the stage, he had quite an imposing figure. For one he was tall and the few extra inches of the stage only added to that. Another thing to factor in was the obvious bulk about him. It was the same thing Rory would see in the security team at SHIELD. Although Bruce hid it well under the suit, there was no denying the fact that he was a big man and could probably fight quite well.

There was also an air about him, power radiating off of him. A few of the richer people in the room had the same. Being rich and having money was great and all, but at a certain point, it’s not about the money anymore. It’s about the influence and power over others. From what Rory had learned, Bruce had well and truly reached that point.

“Jesus, he likes to make an entrance,” Tim said behind her. She finally finished chewing and turned to look at him. His eyes were glued on the man up front and it gave Rory the time to study his face. It gave very little away and his eyes flicked to Rory as soon as he noticed she was looking.

Rory glanced back to Bruce on stage, not really caring about what he was saying. He was walking across the stage, muscles peeking through his suit. Rory looked back to Tim who already looking at her.

Tim, Red Robin, is Bruce’s son.

Rory looked back to Bruce again. Logically, and from what she’d heard, the Waynes lived in a mansion. This mansion wasn’t in the heart of the city or Rory would have seen it by now. Rory imagines it would be pretty hard to sneak out of a mansion on a daily basis, and also manage a company.

There are only two explanations that Rory can come up with: Bruce knows about Tim’s escapades and permits him to continue, or Bruce is Batman.

Admittedly, both are pretty far-fetched but they both make sense. Now she had to figure out which one was closer to the truth.

Rory turned on her heel and headed directly for Jemma. She left Tim without so much as a goodbye.

She got to Jemma and sat down next to her, setting her plate down. She leaned over to Jemma, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“What do you know about the Waynes?”

“What about them?” Jemma asked, not quite getting the memo to whisper. Rory gave her a look, and Jemma muttered an apology.

“What are they like?” It would be poor taste to ask something like ‘do you know if they masquerade in bird costumes every night?’

“Fairly secretive, to be honest. Bruce has ‘wards’,” Jemma says with finger quotations. “But everyone knows he adopts them. He’s had a few.”

Rory hums and nods. She looks over to watch Tim. He’s still watching Bruce on stage, seemingly listening intently.

What Jemma had told her lines up with her ‘Bruce is Batman’ theory. If he’s had more than one ‘ward’, then that makes sense for all of the different Bats.

“Who are his kids?” She needed to figure out who was who.

“Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, but he’s dead, Tim, over there.” Jemma pointed. “Uhmm…oh, his actual son Damian anddd, I’m sure there’s probably more but I can’t think right now.”

“Was that in age order?”

“Yeah,” Jemma says suspiciously. She gives Rory a long, hard look, then shakes her head, picking up her drink.

As long as Jemma’s memory is right, Dick would be Nightwing and Damian would be Robin. She would have to research any rumors of Bruce adopting kids to figure out who the others were.

Maybe they won’t be his kids…

Maybe, but it was the most likely. It would be slightly concerning if Batman was just taking random kids off the street. Because it’s so much better to use kids you’ve adopted to fight crime.

“Anyway, have fun tonight,” Bruce says, bringing a hand up to wave.

Bruce steps off of the stage and the curtain draws back to reveal a band. They were dressed in creamy whites, their instruments polished until you could see your reflection. The lights on the stage dimmed and the rest of the room was lit, making it even. The quiet hum of conversation started up again, while the band created background noise.

It took Rory a few seconds to recognize it, but the band was playing Mamma Mia in a classical style.

The change in genre wasn’t the only reason Rory didn’t pick up on it immediately. The song itself was wrong. It was something at the back of her mind, the same feeling you get looking at an AI-generated image. You could tell what it was supposed to be, but it was wrong.

A whine split the air making Rory wince. She scanned the table, nobody noticing the noise. Her hearing had still not gone back to that of a normal person.

She gave a quick look around to try and locate where it had come from. Everyone in the room was acting normally, not a soul bothered.

A crack from the front of the room was smothered by the band. Rory’s head jerked to the sound. She stood up, her chair screeching in protest. A few people turned to look at her.

Jemma laid a hand on her arm, a questioning look in her eye. Rory dragged her eyes away to stare at Jemma.

“Let’s go to the toilet,” Rory said with a tight smile, praying that Jemma could read her eyes. Jemma pursed her lips before half getting up, half dragged up. Jemma went to go in the direction of the toilets but was dragged toward the doors.

“The toilets are that way,” Jemma says quietly. Rory shook her head, looking back over her shoulder, once again hoping that Jemma could see the panic rising.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end the longer it took to get to the exit. Rory pushed the doors open, hitting the wall with a bang. She spun Jemma around, coming face to face with her.

“Get in the car,” Rory commanded, not taking no for an answer. “Drive home, don’t worry about me.”

Jemma stood completely still for a moment before stumbling back. She knocked the doors open and turned toward her car.

Rory ran full-speed at the door she’d seen the attendant go through earlier. The room was chock full of coats, some thrown on the floor. She spotted her coat piled up on a rack to the left. She pulled it out, not caring that a few fell with it.

The hairs on her arms rose and a shot ran up her spine, crackling and splitting at the base of her skull like a firework.

She dug around in the pockets, finding the one with her suit. She ripped it out, taking a deep breath.

The cold metal clung to the back of her ear and she tapped it once. Her arm stretched out and took hold of the doorknob. The door creaked open but was overwhelmed by a deafening crash on the other side of the double doors.