Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Eight months earlier

August

"My life has been full of shame."

So begins what I could hail as my favourite book. If I were to change this sentence in any way to suit my reality, if I were to start a book about my life or about this chapter I am now living the title would be as follows:

"My life has been full of boredom."

I had been punished, again. The wrath of Ra's al Ghul tried to descend on me with a punishment that none of his men would bear, as if it were a divine punishment that leads you either to hell or to madness. But he, unable to punish his own creation with the techniques he used to raise it, gave me a punishment akin to what you would give a small child. 

The sunlight hit me full on as soon as I stepped out of the underground; no one would believe that Gotham could be so bright in the daytime after a night out there. The sky was mostly clear, with unruly clouds here and there; the skyscrapers stretched out to become one with the sky, reflecting the light in every window; passers-by were going at their own pace and direction, the street full of cars cruising the city. You could see people talking smiling in a café, apologising for bumping into someone while walking fast, couples with their children laughing out loud at a joke. It could be compared to the majesty of Metropolis, who would believe that this city is practically a circus at night?

Still, I had to admit the eerie comfort this city brought me during the nights I have had the misfortune to spend here as part of my never-ending punishment. The frigid air that dries my eyes and moves my hair makes me feel as if a part of me belongs in the darkness that Gotham can bring, even though I don't like being here the way I am now. 

I set off at a brisk pace, adjusting my glasses on the bridge of my nose, eager to go back to where I came from. I adjusted the rucksack on my back that held a notebook and a black pen, the starter pack for entering modern society —and my age— as Ra's would say. My punishment, not unlike the punishment of a child, was to attend school for a year and become part of society as a normal person. And disobedience is a sin for him. 

I had finished arriving at the entrance to the place where I would spend my days instead of training and killing, the Gotham Academy, the place where I would learn all the things I already know. It had an imposing façade at first glance from below, I could see the money that moved, I could tell from the railings that bordered it the structure that was in the background, with columns that seemed to be made of smooth stone, a somewhat greyish colour that had decided to take on a golden hue thanks to the light of these moments. I found the same sights as on the street, kids smiling and hugging each other, though there were some who greeted each other in more polite ways. There were others who only entered through the wide doors that appeared to be made of oak, though it would not be surprising if they were more expensive. 

I had decided not to stop any longer and just go in and do all the usual re-jigging, ask the secretary at the reception for my schedule and survive the experience. I wanted to avoid the ‘innocent’ encounter of asking for directions at all costs, so I went ahead and downloaded the original plans of the academy onto my phone.

"Ann Allen you told me?" the girl behind the counter directed her voice at me again without looking at me, focusing on her computer. "Here is your schedule and your locker key, your first class is on the third floor, last class on the left towards the corridor on the right."

She looked like a young adult, maybe new or a graduate student who had come back to work in this place to reminisce about her younger days. With her hair pulled back in a low bun and somewhat messy if you looked closely, round cheeks, thin lips, somewhat large eyes that made her look a little over-jumped - perhaps a guilty taste for coffee - and a slight lifting of the nasal septum, despite this she had a certain hardness or strictness to her face that served as a signature of identification as a native gothamite. She had stood up to look for the print she had to give me, in that I identified that she was a few centimetres taller than me and seemed to have a common body -not very voluptuous or very slender like the models- although somewhat exercised, surely she had recently started the gym, some combat sport or perhaps self-defence classes.

"It's a bit tricky, but you'll get the hang of it, you'll see, you look like a smart girl. If you need anything else don't be ashamed to come back and ask me. " he clarified with a smile, handing me the paper.

I nodded goodbye, I didn't even stop to read the nameplate, I wasn't interested in it either and I doubted I'd ever come across her again. I headed to where I was told to.

'I cannot allow you as my weapon, the sword with which we will make a better world, to impose itself before my orders because the only ones who want to impose themselves before them and before me are my enemies, and you don't wish to be my enemy’.

That was the last thing I had heard him say before I was dragged into Gotham. I knew that my arrival here was no coincidence, for sure I had something bigger ahead of me, it was unusual to be sent to the detective's city because with its cloak only dragged a wave of disturbances that could test and target the League. And that's not the most ideal option. 

I sighed heavily, tucking some of my hair behind my ear, reaching into my unbuttoned blazer. I hadn't made the slightest effort to dress up, my hair was blown back by the breeze, part of my shirt was out of my skirt, one of my socks had completely slipped from my thigh to my ankle, I'd bought the wrong size blazer and it was too big - although I didn't mind - and my unmagnified glasses were once again slipping down to the tip of my nose. I look like a total geek. And because of all these factors together I couldn't help but be noticed by the few people who were early in the morning near the hall. 

Spacious and luminous, the sun reflected on the tables and the neat ceramic floor, giving a feeling of warmth to the atmosphere that contrasted with the icy wind of the city that embraced the class. I could count around five people and two chairs occupied by backpacks with no owner in sight, who watched me making my way to the back away from the window in search of a more sober corner. The tables were shared by couples, there was room for up to 24 people. 

"Fuck, that girl looks like something out of an alley. Did you see the way she looked at us? She's probably one of those crazy girls who dresses up in costumes around town and helps the Joker keep filling up graveyards."

The unobtrusive whispers from the group of three I had just brushed past to get to my new desk came easily to my ears. Am I supposed to be annoyed by that comment or laugh? I could either respond in a rude way to scare her off, or I could avoid her and save myself trouble with wealthy families. I should not draw attention to myself. I felt the three brown-haired girls turn their heads to my back as I set my things on my table, ignoring their expectant stares for a reaction. 

I ended up sitting down, quickly straightening my shirt before doing so. I combed my short hair back with my fingers and tucked my socks in properly. As people arrived I didn't give my presence a second thought other than those three girls who seemed to have a particular interest in me, I slowly decided to push my glasses back as I raised my head and ended up looking back at the girls who turned away in fright. 

The whispers that greeted me at the beginning turned into a mixture of laughter, jokes and greetings for the reunions and introductions, silenced for moments by the arrival of the classroom teacher who explained the rules and wished a good stay to the newcomers, until he was interrupted by a timid knock on the door, which took him out of the classroom for moments until he entered again accompanied by one more student.

I couldn't say one more student to the newcomer, though. The only word that came to mind was: air. His hair was straight, fine and black, pulled back elegantly, though a long, unruly lock escaped, decorating his forehead as if it belonged there. His nose was straight, thin and a little turned up at the tip. He held a nervous smile as he conversed with the professor about his tardiness, seeming to glow in the touch of the light. His voice, his tone, seemed cordial and polite with joking touches, with a brief Romani accent that didn't come through thanks to his effort at intoning a neutral accent. He was trying to sound agitated, his uniform showing signs of a short run up here, but he didn't look tired, especially not with that confident, gleaming posture he maintained as he lied and excused himself. 

The Boy Wonder, Robin, Richard John Grayson. Such a star, a hero as they called him, shining so brazenly as if he were a sun and smiling in such a way that he could be compared to standing face to face with the star despite being yards away from it, being hidden by people in the process. The colourful companion of the bat who formed with him the famous Dynamic Duo. Being here with him could not be causality, it was a sign. 

He is the target. 

I didn't know if my mission was to follow the detective's apprentice, but I don't believe in coincidences. He was sitting at the third desk in the middle of the room on the right-hand side, and I had to turn my head to the left to look at him from my seat against the wall. For now he was alone in his place, the centre of attention amidst the murmurs and thinly disguised gossip that went on as the teacher - apparently a language teacher - gave an introduction to his class. He was listening, couldn't they see that this was his intention?

I could feel my eyesight blurring for seconds as I tried to focus my attention on my surroundings, yet my mind would not succumb to the accumulated tiredness of my body. I feel like washing my face. I wrote in my notebook without paying attention to my words just to pretend to be doing something when the teacher looked past my corner of the room. I didn't even want to imagine what it would be like all these months I have left here.

My eyes sting after the first 40 minutes inside the classroom and I can see that the attention is scattered among all the students, no one really paying attention to the man who seemed enraptured and in love with the verses he was reciting. Wonder Boy himself seemed to be nodding in his seat. Or that is until the teacher mentioned their long awaited end of year project in pairs or trios which boosted the morale of the class by an extreme amount as those who were dozing and drooling before were suddenly jumping up and down in the area to see who their group was with, the teacher seemed to have given up on wanting to speak up, so he let them be. 

Unsurprisingly, the women were focused on the apprentice. You could see their mischievous glances, looking to lure him to be invited to their mansion to start what in teenage novels would be called a dream romance with a rich guy. Shiva had made me read a lot of that crap before I came here so that I would ‘understand’ people my age better. But, just as they want to get inside Wayne Manor and get close to the detective's son, so do I want to get inside and investigate the security system that protects their safe place in case I have to go through it later.

So I got up from my seat, pulling my glasses back so that they slid down my nose again, approaching his direction and being noticed out of the corner of his eye by him. By the time I was at his back, he already felt my presence upon him, so he turned his head slowly, shaking the unruly locks that slipped through his neatly combed hair, trying to look surprised to catch me behind him.

"Ann Allen," I introduced myself, holding out my right hand and putting my glasses back in place for the tenth time that day. "Pleasure."

"Richard Grayson, you can call me Dick, a pleasure too." he smiled again, making me squint reflexively, too bright, taking my hand gently and reassuringly. "Do you already have a team?"

"No, that's why I'm here." he raised an eyebrow and his smile turned into a smirk that was just like the one he got in the reporters' photos every time Robin made their headlines. 

"This is for sure the weirdest way I've ever been asked to be partners, but I like your spirit. I hope we get along very well."

We maintained eye contact throughout the conversation, it seemed he was challenging me to see if I could endure, if I was like the others who fell apart at the incessant blinking of his sky blue eyes that were as soft as velvet and crystal clear as water in which I could see the darkness of my eyes and my horrible nature reflected. I felt the roughness of his hand, the calluses he had gained from long years of trapeze and training and the light sweat that was beginning to form from the duration of our joined hands, which made me release his grip while still looking into his eyes. I held my hands behind my back and gave a small bow with my head, turning around to return to my seat. 

It couldn't be coincidence, or chance, or luck. Such things did not exist. The first step was done, and the passage of time would force me to approach him and, likewise, the detective. When the time came for the mission to be given to me, I would already have the foundations laid to attack where it would be most convenient for him and execute my work to perfection, as I always did. I felt the stares on my back as I walked down the narrow corridor until I saw a foot that tried to trip me, which I unfeelingly stepped on, putting all my weight on my feet and, although I didn't have much to put, I was sure that my little administration of suffering was going to hurt for quite a while.

After sitting down again I could witness how he quickly gathered his things while the teacher was distracted with his back turned looking for something, taking advantage of the commotion in the room, was he planning to escape while the teacher didn't notice his presence or was he someone organised with his things? At the quickness I could see little flashes of annoyance and pain light up his eyes, lowering the strange rush. His head turned to me for a second, shaking out his dark hair and pulling other strands out of place, with that teasing smile that was more along the lines described as charming. After grabbing his belongings, he took long, nimble steps between the desks until he sprawled in the chair next to me, in perfect timing as the professor turned to draw attention for the commotion.

"This seat isn't taken, is it? Since we're going to be partners, let's take advantage of it and get to know each other better." the glint in his eyes had something deeper behind it, something that made it clear that I had already caught his attention and he was going to investigate my background to confirm every word I said, something that wasn't entirely surprising after the detective's intrepid training. "Where are you from, Ann? Your accent doesn't sound  like it's from around here."

"I daresay we're in a similar situation." I didn't turn my body or eyes in his direction as I spoke, directing my attention to catching the professor's words and trying to note the key words about what he was trying to convey.

"How did you notice? I thought I'd become an expert on the American accent, with all the time I've been living here." he asked with a chuckle, somewhat forced with a clear sense of impression on them, if it was anyone else I wouldn't have realised he was trying to get information out of me about how he knew his Romanian accent. 

"It can be said that you have a high degree of popularity in today's society." I looked at him in profile without changing my position. 2I'm sorry if I sounded prying into your personal life, Grayson, but it seems appropriate to let you know that in the media one can find out a lot of things."

"You don't have to talk so formally with me or even apologize, Ann, I'm sorry too if I sounded like I was accusing you." his voice sounded lower and he scratched the back of his head tensely, ruffling his hair in the process.

I shook my head in an attempt to make him understand that I didn't care about his apology, moving my hand slowly towards his hair without turning my face fully in his direction to fix some hair that had ended up scattered out of place and static from the amount of hair products he had decided to put on this morning. The apprentice's eyes followed my short movements close to his head with their piercing tropic sea view, trying to decipher an action without much more than an aesthetic background behind it. 

So it went on for the rest of the day, with classes ending with him at my side without so much as a word between us, every now and then I could catch him looking for something in my gaze when it wasn't even directed in his direction. When it was time to part our ways as we said our goodbyes and watched him depart out of the corner of my eye with his butler, one who was respected by Al Ghul himself, I made my way through the city with a view of the sky that was no longer the blue that glowed innocently in the Boy Wonder's eyes, but that dull grey that began to drip over my shoulders halfway through with all the acid and toxic Gotham has to offer. 

But what would acid and poison do to a weapon like me?

And the night fell quickly on the city after the greyish sky became present in the early afternoon, the drops kept touching doors, windows and walls until they reached the ground and accumulated in the streets until they disappeared. The frigid night air had not been long in making its way, leaving behind its own exhalation in the air after every sigh or desperate cry for help in some alleyway.

Gotham did not sleep, in fact, it woke up every night renewed, ready to be the same owner of the moon that appeared imposing in the sky as if it were a deity. The weariness of the heavy day and the social restrictions created by law and morality did not exist once the sun went down and the moon touched its territory. The drops covered me like a veil as I stood in the shadows, watching, with my hood on and my body being hidden by my cloak.

I watched as someone was stabbed to death on a street corner, as young people ran and laughed shouting about a revolution that would start with them, as the rich people covered themselves with their black umbrellas until they reached their luxury cars and as a duo swayed in the rain as if they had music playing in the background, also as the sky began to glow through the clouds and the light of the almost completely hidden moon with the light that brought hope, terror and doubt to the city. The symbol of how ‘morality’ and ‘justice’ made its way, that bat that was the detective's logo against the dark sky that made it look like it was painted there instead of just lights pointing at it. Darkness always made things look brighter after all.