I don't really know where this came from or why the title is the title. But oh well. Make sure to let me know what you guys think!

Talia al Ghul made a mistake. She assumed her father wanted an heir, but she was wrong. And she never would have found out had she not happened to walk in on her father talking to the still growing fetus that would become her son.

He was talking about days when his body refused the Lazarus Pit. When he was too old to continue his mission. And he was talking about how he would rip her son's body away from him and use it as his own.

That was the day Talia resolved to do something she would never have expected of herself. She was going to get her son away from this life. She would protect him, damn it, no matter what it took.

Her son was born and she almost wanted to keep him. Almost. But if she wanted him to survive, she couldn't. And if she was being honest with herself, she didn't want him to be raised the way she was. She didn't want to take the same path as her father and torture him for the sake of 'training'.

He came out of the artificial womb right on time, screaming and red-faced. She presented him to her father and told him what she named him. ibn al xu'ffasch. She did not tell her father what her son's English name was.

One week after Damian met her father, his grandfather, she left with him in tow. No one dared ask where she was taking him, and the few who did stopped upon receiving a glare.

She trekked into the desert until she was miles from the base. And when she was sure no one was following her, she created a fire with the green palm fronds she'd brought with. Up into the air floated thick and smelly grey smoke.

She sat calmly and waited. The lights of a small village became more and more noticeable as the night darkened. She was far enough away where if she hadn't known of the town, she would have assumed the lights were fireflies or trick of the light. Eventually, just a few moments after the sun had fully set, dust started to travel closer and closer to her from the town. No doubt a truck from the village.

She left the fire going and set Damian down on the ground, sleeping. Then she forced herself to turn away and walk back into the desert.

When the truck arrived at the site of the now dying fire, the man inside it only found a baby on the ground, with no sight of anyone or anything else. Sewn onto the babies swaddling blanket was a name written in English. The man picked the child up and drove away, thankful he'd noticed the smoke.

Bruce Wayne was used to seeing unusual things, both in his nightlife and his day life. He was also used to being approached with unusual questions, a side effect of what he said his nightlife was like. What he was not used to, however, was being approached with an unusual question and seeing something unusual at the same time.

Standing in front of him was a little boy, no older than ten. And behind the little boy were two men. Both were looking at him with apology and at the boy with exasperation simultaneously.

"We are so sorry," the taller man said. "He sometimes gets a little carried away."

The boy looked up at the men and scowled. "But it's Bruce Wayne. He funds Batman incorporated!"

"Damian," the shorter man said. "That doesn't mean you can just run up to him and ask him if he knows who Batman is."

"But I want to know who Batman is," he whined. Ah, he had an accent. That was what was different about his voice.

The taller man shook his head in a way that could only be described as fond. "I know, kiddo," he said, ruffling the boy, Damian's, hair. "But people don't really like being ran up to and bugged. Again, we're really sorry."

Bruce shook his head and plastered a smile on his face. "It's fine. Kids will be kids."

They pulled the boy away, who went quite willingly, although he did turn back to look at Bruce longingly.

Something about that boy was off. He could have sworn he'd seen the kid before, but he knew for a fact he hadn't. Still, the features were familiar. It was almost like the answer was on the tip of his tongue. Bruce shook his head and put the encounter from his mind. He was probably just being paranoid.

When he got home, he realized why the features were so familiar. They were the same ones he saw in the mirror every day. With a few changes. Emerald green eyes weren't exactly a Wayne trait.

"Talia," he said, barely restraining himself from yelling at the top of his lungs. "You've been keeping a secret from me."

Talia scoffed, but her eyes darted to the side slightly. She was nervous.

"And what have I been keeping a secret from you?" she asked.

Bruce growled. "We have a child."

Talia actually shook her head sadly.

"No, beloved, we don't."

"I know what I saw, Talia."

"He's not ours. Both of us gave up that chance."

Bruce pulled his cowl down and looked at Talia reproachfully.

"I never did."

"You did by being the Batman," she snarled. "He's happier wherever he is. He's safer."

"And since when did you care about safety?" Bruce asked.

"Since the day I found out what my father's plans for him were," Talia shouted. Then she slumped and fell to the ground. "He wanted our son's body to replace his own, beloved. I couldn't allow that. So I did what I had to."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "You could have brought him to me, Talia."

Talia laughed bitterly. "Really? Could I have? You would want him to grow up with a father who could die any day? Who has been thought dead before? He's happy where he is. He's normal. Something neither of us ever had. Isn't that better for him?"

And no matter what Bruce wanted to say, no matter what argument he had ready for her, he hadn't been expecting that. And Talia was right. Their son, Damian, was better off where he was. Bruce couldn't even bear to imagine what his son might have been like growing up with them. Definitely not a carefree child with that huge smile.

Bruce turned away from Talia and joined her on the floor.

"You saw him? That's how you know about him, correct?" Talia asked.

Bruce nodded absently. The stars were bright out tonight.

"And… how is he? Is he happy," Talia asked hesitantly.

"I think he really is. He has a very large smile. And he talks quite a bit."

"What does he look like?"

Bruce smiled. "He has your eyes and nose. My hair and mouth. He's not very tall though. Though I was short until about fifteen, so he'll probably grow then. And his…"

Bruce continued to talk, and he and Talia took turns answering questions for the rest of the night. They may not have him right there, and Bruce grieved that, he did, but he was still there as a connection. And they would always have that.