Becoming Nightshade

Wayne Enterprises – Bruce's Office

Bruce sat at his desk, his gaze scanning the security reports when the soft buzz of his phone disrupted the quiet hum of the room. He glanced down, and his brow furrowed as an alert flashed across the screen.

GCPD ALERT: Possible Harley Quinn Sighting – Gotham Prep.

His jaw tightened. Without hesitation, he pressed a secure line. "Oracle."

Barbara Gordon's familiar voice crackled through the comms, light and curious. "Gotham Prep?"

"Possible Harley Quinn sighting," Bruce said evenly, though the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

There was a pause before Barbara chuckled, her amusement barely contained. "Wait—you think Harley would show up at a high school? Did she decide to relive her glory days or something?"

"Check the security cameras. Now."

The soft clatter of keys echoed through the comms. "Alright, pulling them up." A brief silence followed, interrupted only by her typing. Then— "Uh, B? You'll want to see this."

The feed from Gotham Prep flickered onto his screen. Bruce's eyes sharpened, taking in the chaos unfolding in real time. The halls were decorated for Halloween—streamers, fake cobwebs, and costumed students—but all that faded into the background when he saw Maggie.

Dressed in her Harley Quinn costume, she was backed against the lockers, her hands raised in an attempt to reason with the officers surrounding her. Her friends, Stephanie and Emily, hovered nearby, their anxious expressions growing more panicked with each passing second.

One officer was already speaking into his radio, likely reporting a positive identification. The others had their hands hovering near their weapons, their eyes darting between Maggie's red and black ensemble and her calm but increasingly desperate attempts to explain.

"She's handling it, but they're not listening," Barbara said, her previous humor replaced by concern. "This could turn bad fast."

Bruce's fingers tightened around the edge of his desk. "Inform Robin. I'm on my way."

At Gotham Prep, Jason Todd leaned casually against a row of lockers, chatting with a few classmates when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He stepped away, already knowing who it was.

"Oracle?" His voice was low but alert.

"Maggie's in trouble," Barbara replied quickly. "GCPD cornered her—seems her costume was a little too convincing. They think she's Harley."

Jason's eyes widened, his blood running cold. "Where is she?"

"East wing, near the science labs."

"I'm on it."

Jason weaved through the crowded hallways, adrenaline surging through him. He had to act fast and de-escalate the situation before things spiraled out of control. As he rounded the corner, his stomach dropped.

Maggie was being pressed against the lockers, her wrists cuffed behind her back. She was trying to stay calm, but Jason could see the slight tremble in her shoulders. Stephanie and Emily hovered nearby, their protests falling on deaf ears.

"Hey!" Jason's voice cut through the noise as he approached the cluster of officers. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

One of the officers, a tall man with a stern expression, turned toward him. "Step back, kid. This doesn't concern you."

Jason's gaze flicked to Maggie, who met his eyes with a mix of fear and frustration. "You've got it all wrong," Jason said, forcing himself to stay calm. "She's not Harley Quinn. It's a school costume contest."

The officer holding Maggie shook his head. "We got an anonymous tip, and she fits the description."

Jason clenched his fists, struggling to contain his anger. "Look closer. That's Maggie Wayne, daughter of Bruce Wayne. Does that sound like Harley Quinn to you?"

The officer hesitated, exchanging a look with his partner, but the sergeant in charge stepped forward, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "How do we know you're not working with her, covering her tracks?"

Jason grit his teeth, trying to stay composed. "I'm telling you the truth. She's a student. Call Bruce Wayne if you don't believe me."

But the sergeant wasn't having it. "Take her to the patrol car. We'll sort it out downtown."

Jason moved to block them, but another officer stepped in his way. "Back off, or you're coming with us for obstruction."

Jason's pulse pounded in his ears as he watched them drag Maggie toward the exit. She looked back at him, her emerald eyes silently pleading for help. His jaw clenched—he wasn't about to let this happen.

Then, the air shifted.

A dark figure descended from the rooftop, landing silently behind the officers. The officers barely had time to react before the unmistakable voice of Gotham's protector cut through the air.

"Let her go."

The officers froze. The sergeant stiffened, his earlier confidence fading as Batman stepped forward, his cape flowing behind him.

"She's not Harley Quinn," Batman said, his voice deadly calm. "Release her."

The sergeant opened his mouth to argue, but Batman's glare silenced him. "Do you really think Harley Quinn would be wandering around a prep school, unarmed, during a costume contest?"

The younger officers exchanged uneasy glances. One of them finally muttered, "He's got a point, Sarge."

The sergeant sighed, motioning for the officer holding Maggie to release her. The cuffs clicked open, and Maggie rubbed her sore wrists, exhaling a shaky breath of relief.

Jason stepped forward, catching her in a protective hug. "You okay?"

Maggie nodded, burying her face in his shoulder for a brief moment. "I am now."

The sergeant muttered something under his breath and signaled for his team to leave. As the patrol cars pulled away, Batman turned to Maggie, his voice softer but no less authoritative. "We'll talk about this later."

Maggie winced. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen—"

"Later," Bruce repeated, his cape swirling around him as he disappeared into the shadows.

Jason shook his head with a small chuckle. "Told you Harley wasn't the best choice."

Maggie huffed but managed a small smile. "Yeah, yeah. Lesson learned."

---

Inside the school, the intercom crackled to life. "Alexis Monroe, please report to the principal's office immediately."

The classroom collectively went silent as students exchanged curious looks. Alexis stood, her Cleopatra costume shimmering under the fluorescent lights, and strutted toward the door with her usual confidence. But by the time she reached the principal's office and saw the stern faces of Principal Carson and the officer waiting for her, that confidence faltered.

"Miss Monroe," the principal began, "you've caused quite the disruption today."

The evidence against her was overwhelming—phone records, location data, and the transcript of the false tip to the GCPD. Despite her attempts to talk her way out of it, the principal remained unmoved.

"You're suspended for two weeks, disqualified from homecoming court, and banned from the dance," he said firmly. "Further incidents will result in criminal charges."

Alexis's protests fell on deaf ears as she was escorted out of the building. Down the hall, Maggie and Jason watched her leave, Stephanie practically vibrating with excitement. "Karma's wearing designer heels today."

Maggie let out a breath, finally feeling the tension leave her. Jason slid his hand into hers, squeezing gently. "You good?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling softly.

The sound of the front door closing echoed through the grand entryway as Maggie and Jason entered Wayne Manor. The atmosphere inside was unusually quiet, but Maggie knew better than to think it was peaceful. Quiet often meant Bruce was waiting.

Jason tossed his bag onto a nearby chair, running a hand through his hair. "We made it through the day without further disasters. That's gotta count for something."

Maggie gave a small chuckle, though the tension in her shoulders hadn't fully eased. "Yeah, tell that to my wrists," she muttered, rubbing the sore spots where the cuffs had dug in earlier.

As they made their way toward the kitchen, the familiar, steady voice of Bruce Wayne called out from behind them. "Maggie."

They both froze mid-step, turning to see Bruce standing in the archway leading to the study. He was dressed in his usual sharp black suit, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable—but that was what made it more intimidating. His gaze was focused, a mixture of disappointment and concern clouding his eyes.

Maggie sighed, glancing at Jason, who offered a small, supportive nod. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," Jason murmured before giving her hand a gentle squeeze and heading off, leaving her alone with Bruce.

"Come into the study," Bruce said, stepping aside to let her pass.

Maggie followed him inside, the door closing behind them with a soft click. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows along the bookshelves. Bruce walked to his desk but didn't sit. Instead, he leaned against the edge, arms still crossed as he studied her.

"You know why we're having this conversation," he began, his voice calm but firm.

Maggie nodded, shifting on her feet. "Because I dressed up like Harley Quinn for a group costume in school."

"Yes," Bruce replied, his gaze unwavering. "And because you ended up nearly getting arrested. GCPD thought you were her, Maggie. Do you understand how dangerous that was?"

Maggie's fingers fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. "I didn't think it would be that big of a deal. Everyone was wearing costumes. It's not my fault I looked so convincing and Alexis used the GCPD to bully me."

Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly at her words. "No, it's not your fault Alexis made a dangerous and reckless decision," he agreed, his voice calm but firm. "But you're missing the bigger picture, Maggie. Gotham isn't like other cities. Here, the line between fun and danger is razor-thin. It doesn't matter if you were just another student participating in a school event. The moment you put on that costume, you became a potential threat in their eyes."

Maggie's shoulders tensed, and she crossed her arms defensively. "I didn't expect anyone to mistake me for the real thing. I thought the worst thing that could happen was losing the costume contest."

Bruce exhaled, stepping away from the desk and pacing slowly. "You're young. You should be able to go to school and have fun without worrying about the world seeing you as anything other than who you are. But that's not reality for you. Being a Wayne means there's always a spotlight on you, and in Gotham, that spotlight can turn into a target."

Maggie's jaw tightened. "So, what—you want me to stop being myself? To overthink every decision because someone might twist it into something dangerous?"

Bruce stopped pacing and faced her, his expression softening slightly. "No, Maggie. I don't want you to lose who you are. But I do want you to think before you act. Not because I don't trust you, but because Gotham won't give you the benefit of the doubt. Today proved that."

Maggie's gaze dropped to the floor, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do I look so much like her? It's more than just the costume. The way they reacted, the way I moved... It's like Harley is part of me somehow."

Bruce's expression softened, and he crouched slightly so they were eye level. "Maggie, listen to me," he said gently, but with purpose. "You are not Harley Quinn. You're my daughter."

Maggie swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing. "When I saw my reflection today, I didn't see me, Dad. I saw her."

Bruce exhaled, his hand resting on her shoulder. "What you saw was the power of suggestion. The makeup, the costume—it's easy to fall into that image."

Maggie's shoulders tensed as she pulled away slightly, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, Dad," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the Batcave. "It's not just the costume. It's me. My face, the way I carry myself—it's like I was made for that role, and you're acting like it's some coincidence."

Bruce's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "Maggie—"

"I'm serious!" Her voice rose, echoing off the cold, stone walls. "Why do I look like her? My facial structure, the shape of my mouth—everything except the eyes and hair. Why?"

Bruce opened his mouth but hesitated. His stoic exterior cracked for a brief moment, a flicker of something—guilt? Worry?—flashing through his eyes.

Maggie's lips trembled as she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a shaky whisper. "Is she my mother?"

Bruce's composure hardened like steel, his expression becoming unreadable once more. "No," he said firmly, the weight of the word sinking into the silence.

Maggie searched his face, her green eyes brimming with confusion and doubt. "Then why does it feel like you're hiding something? Why do you always change the subject when I ask about her?"

Bruce exhaled, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. "I'm not hiding anything, Maggie. Your mother—"

"Then who is she?" Maggie cut him off, her voice cracking. "Because this doesn't add up! If she's not Harley, then why do I feel like I'm staring at someone who should've been a stranger, but isn't?"

Bruce's throat worked as he swallowed hard. For the briefest second, he considered telling her everything—the secrets he had locked away, the truth that weighed on him more than she could ever know. But he couldn't. Not yet. Not without risking her safety. His grip tightened on the truth, holding it like a dangerous weapon he wasn't ready to unleash.

"Maggie," he said softly, the gentleness in his tone almost enough to break her. "Your mother wasn't Harley Quinn. I know you're struggling right now, but you're overthinking this."

Maggie's eyes burned with unshed tears as she looked away, her fists clenching at her sides. "I'm not overthinking it, Dad. I've been wondering about this my entire life, and now it's staring me right in the face."

"Maggie," Bruce tried again, stepping closer, but she shook her head.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible now. "I'm done asking, Dad. Because I know I won't get the answer I'm looking for."

Maggie stormed out of the study, her footsteps echoing through the grand hallways of Wayne Manor. Her breathing was heavy, her fists clenched tightly at her sides as she fought to keep her emotions from spiraling out of control. Her vision blurred for a moment, but she blinked the tears away, refusing to let them fall. Her father's words rang in her head like a relentless drumbeat: I'm not hiding anything, Maggie.

She knew he was lying. He had to be. There was something buried beneath his silence, and she was done playing the waiting game.

The warmth of the kitchen was a stark contrast to the cold tension she'd just left behind in the study. Jason was sitting at the kitchen island, leaning back in his chair with an open bag of chips. He was scrolling through his phone lazily. He glanced up when he heard her enter, immediately noticing her flushed face and the storm swirling behind her eyes. "Whoa, Mags," he said, setting down his phone. "What happened?"

Maggie didn't answer right away. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filled it with water, and leaned against the counter, taking a few slow sips as she tried to compose herself. But Jason wasn't the type to let things slide.

He stood, closing the distance between them and gently cupping her elbow. "Hey," he said, his voice soft, yet firm enough to command her attention. "Talk to me."

Maggie exhaled sharply and set the glass down with a clink, avoiding his gaze. "I'm fine, Jason."

"You're not," he replied, tilting his head slightly to try and catch her eyes. "You're upset. What happened? Did Bruce say something?"

"He just—he won't tell me anything. Every time I bring up my mom, he shuts down. I asked him if Harley could be my mother, and he didn't even try to give me a real answer. He just... denied it like it was the easiest thing in the world." Her voice cracked, and she shook her head. "I'm tired of being kept in the dark."

"He's still doing that? After everything? You deserve answers, Mags."

"I know." Her voice trembled, and she rubbed her hands over her face, frustration pouring out of her like a dam had finally broken. "I just—I don't know why I look so much like her. Everyone says it. They think it's funny or weird, but it's not."

Jason pulled her into a hug without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her as he rested his chin on top of her head. "Hey, you're not her," he murmured. "You're Maggie. You're brilliant, stubborn, and way too good for all the crap Gotham throws at you."

She let herself melt into him for a moment, her arms wrapping around his torso as she tried to find some sense of stability. His warmth and steady breathing helped ease the pounding of her heart, even if only slightly.

"Thanks, Jay," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt. She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes soft but still carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I needed this."

Jason brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smiled gently. "Always, Mags. You know I'm your human comfort blanket."

She laughed lightly, the sound a little shaky but genuine. "You're better than a blanket."

"Obviously," Jason teased, squeezing her waist playfully. "And just so you know, there's no way Harley Quinn's your mom."

Maggie tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

Jason grinned mischievously, leaning closer like he was about to let her in on a secret. "Because Bruce Wayne isn't Harley's type. Trust me. Can you see her dating Mr. Broody and Serious?"

Maggie burst into a laugh, her earlier sadness beginning to lift. "You've got a point."