The Changing Mirror • View topic (2025)

The Changing Mirror • View topic (1)

Gotham City was no stranger to the bizarre, but even by its standards, this was unprecedented. Batman, the brooding Dark Knight, was pacing in the Batcave, his cape billowing dramatically as he tried to process the impossible. Across from him stood Zatanna, the Mistress of Magic, looking equally flustered but trying her best to maintain composure.

"This is your fault," Batman growled, his voice low and intense.

"My fault?" Zatanna countered, her arms crossed defensively. "You're the one who said, 'Do whatever it takes to stop Klarion!'"

Batman stopped pacing. "I didn't mean this," he said, gesturing toward his midsection, which was undeniably, impossibly, showing signs of pregnancy.

Zatanna sighed, rubbing her temples. "Look, Bruce, we'll figure this out. But right now, we need to prepare for what's coming."

"By prepare, you mean what, exactly?" Batman's tone was sharp. "A gender reveal at the Bat-Signal? A registry at Wayne Enterprises?"

Zatanna smirked despite herself. "No, I was thinking something more traditional---a baby shower."

Batman stared at her as if she'd suggested he hang up the cowl and join the circus. "Absolutely not."

"You're having a baby shower, Bruce. You're having mine and your baby," Zatanna declared, tapping her foot impatiently against the cold concrete. "It is non-negotiable."

Batman's gaze remained steady, but his mind was racing. A cocktail of disbelief and surprise was mixed with the raw determination that came naturally to him. "I don't need a baby shower," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "This isn't about celebration."

"It should be! This is a blessing!" Zatanna's frustration spilled over. "You can't just pretend it doesn't exist because it's not what you're used to. You're about to be a father, er, mother!"

"What I'm used to is keeping my life---and my family---hidden from those who might want to harm them. A party draws attention, Zatanna. You know that."

"For the love of magic, Bruce! This baby needs love, community, and joy! Not just a fortress of solitude!" Zatanna argued, her tone firm yet laced with a hint of vulnerability. "You need to show that you can embrace this, not shut it out."

Batman folded his arms, dishing out his signature glare. "And I'm telling you that celebration is not the way. This baby isn't a trophy to be shown off."

"A trophy? Is that how you see it?" Zatanna scoffed, her hands flaring with magical energy---a habit she couldn't quite suppress when her emotions surged. "This baby is our future! Our legacy! You think it's just me who wants to celebrate? It's your child too! You are going to give birth. You'll be a parent!"

Batman's jaw clenched, internalizing the overwhelming mix of feelings threatening to surface. He knew she was right, but he felt the shadow of his past loom larger whenever the thought of attention crossed his mind.

"Fine," he finally conceded, his voice heavy. "We'll have the baby shower. But..." He hesitated, the weight of his next words palpable. "You won't attend."

"What?" Zatanna couldn't believe her ears. "Bruce, that defeats the purpose! You want to throw a party without the one person who is excited about it? I'm the mother!"

"Exactly, father's don't go to baby showers. No men are allowed."

"I'm not a man."

"I know, but if I am the mother, then you are the father, you can't come."

Zatanna frowned, trying to balance the needs of the child and her own desire for celebration. "You're really going to do this alone?" The bitter taste of disappointment lingered on her tongue. "That's not fair to either of us."

"Nothing about this situation is fair. But it's how it has to be. You can still plan it; just... stay away from it. I'll handle the rest."

With a heavy sigh and a resigned shake of her head, Zatanna stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. "If we're doing this, we need a list of people to invite. A baby shower needs guests, you know that."

Batman narrowed his eyes; Zatanna's determination was infectious, even if he didn't want to admit it. "Fine. But... only women," he added with an air of finality. "A baby shower is no place for men."

The two sat down at the Batcomputer, an awkward silence settling over them as they began to brainstorm names.

"Barbara?" Zatanna suggested.

"Obviously." Batman typed the name into the list. "Selina?"

"Do you want to risk the baby being born surrounded by stolen jewels?"

Batman frowned but didn't argue.

"Diana?"

"She'll try to make it a warrior's initiation," Batman muttered.

Zatanna smirked. "That's still better than Harley Quinn, who I'm assuming is not making this list."

"Harley is not making this list."

They continued for another hour, the tension easing as they worked together. By the end, the guest list was an eclectic mix of Gotham's finest heroines and a few trusted allies.

As Batman saved the list, Zatanna leaned back in her chair. "You know, Bruce, this is going to be good for you. A little positivity in your life."

Batman didn't respond, his focus on the computer screen. But for a brief moment, a small, almost imperceptible smile flickered across his face.

After Zatanna left the Batcave in a puff of magical mist, Batman was left alone, save for the soft hum of the Batcomputer and the occasional flutter of a bat in the rafters. He leaned back in his chair, his cape draped over the armrest, and allowed himself a rare moment of stillness.

Being a mother. The very thought was surreal, almost laughable, but the steady ache in his abdomen was a constant reminder that this was no illusion. The greatest detective in the world was about to face a challenge unlike anything he had ever prepared for.

He glanced at the guest list still open on the monitor. Names like Barbara, Diana, and Lois stared back at him, a reminder of the network of strong, capable women he had fought beside and trusted over the years. Would they see him differently after this? Would they pity him?

Pity wasn't something he could afford. Gotham's criminals would seize any perceived weakness. Yet, the idea of bringing life into the world stirred something deep within him---a feeling he wasn't ready to name.

His mind wandered to his parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne. What would they say if they could see him now? His father's steady wisdom, his mother's gentle compassion---traits he had spent his life trying to emulate. Would he be able to pass those on?

And then, there was Alfred. The loyal butler had raised him, taught him, comforted him through his darkest days. Alfred had been both father and mother to him, and the thought made Bruce's throat tighten. Could he measure up to the example Alfred had set?

The child. A child born of magic, chaos, and a momentary lapse in clarity. What would they be like? Would they inherit his stubbornness, his drive, his need for justice? Or perhaps they would carry some of Zatanna's spark, her charm, her ability to see beauty in the world despite its darkness.

A sudden thought struck him---what if the child didn't want to be a part of his world? What if they rejected the mission, the legacy, the mantle of the Bat? Could he let them go, allow them to carve their own path, even if it meant leaving Gotham behind?

Batman's hand rested instinctively on his midsection, where the faintest flutter of movement seemed to respond to his touch. For all his strength, his intellect, his preparation, this was the one battle he would have to face unarmed.

But perhaps, he thought, that was the point. This wasn't a fight to win. It was a journey to embark on---a journey he would face with the same unwavering determination that had guided him through every other challenge in his life.

For the first time, the cave didn't feel quite as cold, the shadows not quite as oppressive. In the stillness, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, allowed himself a rare and tentative hope.

In the days that followed their bittersweet discussion in the Batcave, Batman resumed his nightly patrols across Gotham. The familiar thrill of the chase and the weight of justice coursed through him as he navigated the rooftops under the pale glow of the moon. The city was ever restless, and crime never took a pause, even with the promise of new life looming on the horizon.

Yet, in the back of his mind, a troubling whisper lingered. As he grappled with the duality of his existence---father to be and tireless protector of Gotham---the implications of a chilling rumor began to take root. Whispers echoed in the underbelly of Gotham, gossip carried by the wind and flitting from one criminal element to another: it wasn't Zatanna who had gotten him pregnant but the Joker.

The thought gnawed at him, a festering wound of uncertainty cutting deeper than any physical injury he had sustained in battle. The implications of such a revelation were staggering. What did it mean for the child? What impact would it have on Zatanna? And could he truly leave her in the dark about this?

As Batman spotted a familiar flicker of red and green in an alleyway below, he swooped down silently, landing with grace as he confronted the pair of thugs trying to shake down a vendor. The heaviness in his heart made him fight with a fierceness that bordered on reckless. He dispatched the goons with precise strikes---left hook here, right kick there---driving them back and putting an end to their petty crime.

But even as he subdued them, his mind raced; apprehension consumed him. He couldn't let this linger. If there was any truth to what he had heard, Zatanna deserved to know. Even if it shattered everything they had built together, it was her right to make that choice.

That night, after he returned to his cave, he found himself staring at the community board---the names of guests for the baby shower hastily scrawled beside images of heroes and friends. The flickering lights of the Batcave cast a somber glow as he thought of how Zatanna would react.

Before he could second-guess himself, he activated the communication link to Zatanna. The image of her vibrant face filled the screen. She looked beautiful, her dark hair cascading perfectly, but tiredness lingered in her eyes.

"Bruce," she greeted warmly, her expression shifting when she saw the tension on his face. "What's the matter?"

"I... I need to talk to you," he said, his voice low and heavy.

"Okay, what's wrong?" She sensed the weight of seriousness in his tone, and her heart raced.

"I heard something," he began, struggling to find the words. "Rumors are spreading... rumors about the baby." He forced himself to meet her gaze. "They're saying it wasn't you who got me pregnant... it was the Joker."

The silence that followed felt like a lead weight pressing down on them both. Zatanna's eyes widened, a mixture of disbelief and sorrow flashing across her face. "What? Bruce, are you serious? That's... that's insane."

"I know it sounds absurd, but you know how the Joker works. He thrives on chaos, and this could be his way to unhinge me. I wouldn't put it past him." His voice was edged with frustration as he paced in the cave.

"But... how would that even be possible?" She leaned closer to the screen, her brow furrowed in concern. "You were the one who... we were together!"

"I don't know how it happened. I just---" Batman paused, wrestling with the confusion and anger swirling inside him. "I can't ignore the possibility. And if there's even a shred of truth in this, you need to know."

Zatanna searched his expressive eyes, gauging the sincerity behind his words. "Bruce, if this is true, it changes everything. What we have---"

"I know," he interrupted, desperation spilling into his tone. "I can't let this come between us. I want you in this child's life, and I don't want you to feel deceived."

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. "We'll find the truth, together. But you need to understand something, Bruce. Whether this child is biologically yours or not doesn't matter to me. Being a father is about so much more than blood."

Batman nodded, feeling both relieved and burdened by the enormity of her declaration. "Then let's figure this out. We'll investigate the rumor and look for proof. If the Joker is involved, we need to be vigilant."

That night, they discussed plans, already devising strategies to confront the madness that was the Joker. Zatanna would gather intel from her connections in the mystical realm, while Batman would dig deeper into the criminal underworld, using his network of informants to uncover the truth.

The day of the baby shower dawned bright and clear, an unusual occurrence for Gotham, which often draped itself in gloom. Wayne Manner had transformed from its usual sanctuary of solitude and shadow into a colorful gathering space, adorned with decorations that shimmered and sparkled, echoing Zatanna's magical flair. A large banner hung from the ceiling: "Welcome Little Bat!"

Yet, despite the festive decorations and the sweet aroma of baked goods wafting through the cave, an underlying tension coursed through the atmosphere. Each invited guest had heard the whispers---the rumors that questioned the paternity of Batman's unborn child. But instead of dwelling in uncertainty, they united in a show of support for Bruce.

As guests began to arrive, the mood shifted. Barbara Gordon was the first to arrive, her arms laden with bags wrapped in cheerful paper. She wore a vibrant green t-shirt adorned with cartoon bats. "Hey, Bruce! Look what I brought!" She beamed, setting the gifts down on a nearby table. But her smile faltered when she noticed the shadows behind Batman's eyes.

"Thanks, Barbara," Batman replied, attempting to muster a smile. "It's good to see you."

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "You look like you haven't slept in days."

"I'm fine," he insisted, though they both knew it was a half-truth. "Just a bit busy."

Soon, Dinah Lance walked in, her infectious laughter cutting through the lingering unease. "Alright, party people! Where's the cake?" she exclaimed, tossing her blonde hair back triumphantly, seemingly unfazed by the looming whispers. She carried a massive cake decorated with intricate icing representing the Gotham skyline. "I've got the dessert covered."

As the guests settled in, the conversation flowed around them, and the gifts began to pile up. Each attendee expressed their heartfelt sentiments through gifts and camaraderie. Wonder Woman arrived next, bringing a hand-knit blanket, soft as a cloud, and graced with intricate patterns of nested bats. "It symbolizes family, Bruce," she declared firmly, her strong presence providing an anchor to the swirling emotions of the gathering.

Gradually, the chatter turned toward Batman's situation. While gifts of baby clothes and toys were presented amidst laughter, the concern among the guests could not be wholly shelved. "Just know that no matter what happens, we're all here for you," Dinah said earnestly, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "You're not alone in this."

He appreciated their gestures, but the lingering rumor weighed heavily on his mind. As the festivities continued, he felt the eyes of his friends upon him, laden with unspoken questions. Zatanna had chosen not to attend, respecting his wish for a quieter gathering, but he felt her absence keenly.

Barbara cleared her throat, breaking his contemplations. "So, I've heard some things. About the rumors---"

"It's all speculation," he interrupted firmly, his voice a touch sharper than intended. "We'd be better off focusing on the celebration."

The guests exchanged glances, each of them understood the unwritten rule of engagement. They wouldn't pry, but they wouldn't shy away either. After a moment of silence, Wonder Woman glanced around the room, her gaze intentional. "We're not here to gossip, Bruce. We're here to celebrate the life that's coming into the world. A life that will need love and support. And we want to offer you that."

"I know. I appreciate that," he replied, his tone softened. "It's just difficult."

As gifts were opened, laughter filled the manor, though the undercurrents of anxiety lingered. Zatanna hadn't been present to see the joy in the room, but she had left behind magic---a lingering charm of optimism and hope. Each guest took to heart the idea that no matter the circumstances surrounding the child, they would wrap it in a blanket of support.

"Let's play some games!" Dinah suggested, her eyes shining with mischief. "We can see who can guess who the baby will look like more accurately."

Reluctantly, Batman allowed himself to smile, swept up by the enthusiasm of his friends. He knew that being surrounded by them would help him combat the doubts clouding his mind. As the games commenced, lighthearted banter replaced the tension, if only temporarily. Laughter echoed off the cave walls, a reminder that even in darkness, joy could find its way.

As the party wore on, the topic of gossip faded, replaced by cherished moments and memories. When it came time for the final gift, Barbara presented a handmade scrapbook filled with messages of love and encouragement from all the attendees. "This way, no matter what happens, you can always look back and remember that your friends are standing by you."

Batman felt a warmth swell in his chest, a sense of belonging that had become increasingly difficult to embrace. He breathed deeply, letting their camaraderie envelop him like a protective cloak.

"Thank you, everyone," he spoke, fighting against the tide of emotions stepping up to the surface by the feminine hormones that were pumping in his veins. "This means more to me than I can say. I want you all to know that whatever happens, I will fight for this child. You don't have to worry."

And with that, the guests cheered, happy to see Batman soften amidst the swirling uncertainties of his life.

The baby shower had been a surprisingly heartfelt event. Despite Bruce's initial reluctance, the gathering of Gotham's heroines, allies, and trusted friends had been a moment of warmth and celebration. But as the laughter and camaraderie faded into the quiet of the Batcave that evening, Batman confirmed what he had been afraid of.

He had been reviewing recent files on Joker's latest escapades when he came across something alarming: traces of a rare chemical compound linked to Joker's signature "laughing bombs." Cross-referencing it with the timeline of his inexplicable condition, everything suddenly clicked.

"It was a joke," he muttered darkly, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. The pregnancy wasn't Zatanna's doing---it was the Joker's twisted sense of humor, a biological prank meant to leave him reeling.

When Zatanna returned later that evening, Batman wasted no time sharing his discovery.

"Joker," she said, incredulous. "Only he would think of something this... deranged."

Batman's jaw tightened. "He won't get the last laugh."

Zatanna placed a hand on his shoulder. "Bruce, this doesn't change anything. I promised I'd support you, and I meant it. Whatever you need, I'll be here."

Batman turned to her, his expression unusually vulnerable. "Then help me."

"Of course," Zatanna said softly.

"I want you to transform me into a woman."

Zatanna blinked, unsure if she'd heard correctly. "Bruce, why would you---"

"The baby needs a mother," Batman interrupted, his tone firm. "I've thought about this. Gotham can survive without me for a time. But this child? They deserve a mother more than a father."

Zatanna frowned, hesitant. "But a baby needs both, Bruce. You can be a father and still give them all the love and care they need."

"No," Batman said, shaking his head. "A mother's role is unique. I won't let this child grow up missing what only a mother can provide. And you said you'd help me. Are you going back on your promise?"

The weight of her earlier words hung heavily in the air. Zatanna sighed, her hands tightening into fists. "You're sure about this?"

"I'm sure," Batman replied without hesitation.

Reluctantly, Zatanna began to chant, "ekam namtab otni a gnikcuf namow" her voice tinged with a mixture of resolve and sadness. The air shimmered with magic, swirling around Bruce as her spell took effect. His body began to shift, his form softening and reshaping as Zatanna's magic transformed him.

When the spell ended, Bruce Wayne was gone. In his place stood a short, pregnant woman with the same piercing blue eyes but a gentler, more maternal aura.

Zatanna hesitated, unsure of what to say. "How... how do you feel?"

Bruce---now in a woman's voice---responded with quiet determination. "Prepared."

Zatanna sighed, placing a hand on Bruce's---no, *her*---shoulder. "I still think this was unnecessary, but I'll support you, just like I promised."

Bruce nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Thank you, Zatanna. For everything."

As the two stood in the Batcave, a quiet understanding passed between them. They would face whatever challenges came next together. The Joker might have thought this was his ultimate joke, but Batman would ensure the punchline was one of hope, strength, and unconditional love.

Life off the streets of Gotham was a challenge in itself for Bruce Wayne, now living as a short, visibly pregnant woman. Every instinct screamed at him to don the cowl, to protect the city he had spent his life defending, but the tiny fluttering movements in his belly reminded him why he couldn't.

His new form, courtesy of Zatanna's reluctant magic, came with more changes than just a shorter stature and softer features. The hormonal shifts were unexpected, overwhelming, and, at times, downright infuriating.

Bruce found himself crying at the oddest things. One evening, Alfred caught him in the middle of the kitchen, sobbing uncontrollably over a loaf of bread he'd burnt.

"It's just... it's so wasteful, Alfred!" Bruce exclaimed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he held the charred loaf.

"Indeed, Master---ah, Mistress Wayne," Alfred said delicately, handing over a tissue. "Though I suspect this is less about the bread and more about... other circumstances."

Bruce sniffled and nodded, dabbing at his eyes. "I don't even know why I'm crying. This is ridiculous."

"Not at all," Alfred said, his tone gentle. "You're doing something extraordinary. It's only natural for it to take a toll."

Other times, Bruce's temper flared unpredictably. During one of his nightly check-ins with the Bat-Family, he nearly threw a plate of cookies at Dick Grayson for calling him "Mom."

"I'm not your mom, Grayson!" he snapped, slamming the plate on the table.

Dick raised his hands in surrender, a bemused grin on his face. "Sorry, sorry! Hormones, I get it."

Bruce glared but couldn't stay angry. "...Just eat the cookies."

As much as he missed the streets, Bruce began to embrace his temporary life in the manor. He read parenting books, researched baby care, and meticulously prepared a nursery that doubled as a fortress, complete with reinforced walls and emergency escape routes.

Despite his hesitance to involve others, his allies rallied around him. Barbara helped him design the nursery; Diana sent handwoven blankets from Themyscira; even Selina dropped by with an array of cat-themed onesies that Bruce pretended to disapprove of.

And then there was Zatanna. She checked in frequently, offering magical solutions to Bruce's discomforts---though he refused most of them, determined to do this the "normal" way.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" Zatanna said one afternoon, watching as Bruce struggled to tie his shoes around his burgeoning belly.

"I've been told," Bruce grumbled, finally giving up and accepting her help.

One evening, Bruce sat in the nursery, his hand resting on his stomach as the baby shifted inside him. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to simply *be*. No strategies, no contingencies, no plans---just a quiet moment with the life growing within him.

He thought about his parents, about the love they had shown him in their short time together. Would he be able to give that same love to his child? Would they understand the sacrifices he made for them?

As if in response, the baby kicked, a firm yet gentle reminder that he were there, waiting, relying on him---or rather, *her*---to lead the way.

Bruce smiled faintly, the weight of the city's burdens momentarily lifted. For once, the world could wait. For now, it was just a mother and her child, embarking on a new kind of adventure together.

Bruce Wayne---or Brucie, as she had gradually started to think of herself---sat nervously in Dr. Leslie Thompkins' office. Leslie had been a trusted confidante for years, but this visit felt profoundly different. This wasn't about trauma or guilt or the weight of Gotham pressing on his shoulders.

This was about becoming a mother.

"You've been through a lot of changes, Bruce," Leslie said gently, her eyes kind but probing. "And while I know you've embraced the physical aspects of your new reality, emotionally and mentally, it's a huge shift. You're still approaching this like a soldier preparing for battle, not a mother preparing for a child."

Brucie sighed, her hands resting protectively over her rounded belly. "I've trained myself to think that way. It's who I've been for years---always analyzing, planning, preparing. But I don't want to just *survive* motherhood, Leslie. I want to... I want to *be* a mother. Fully."

Leslie nodded thoughtfully. "I think I can help with that. Have you ever considered hypnosis? It could help you tap into feelings and instincts you've buried or haven't yet developed. It's not about changing who you are---it's about expanding your perspective."

Brucie hesitated but then nodded. "I trust you, Leslie. Let's do it."

The room was dim and serene as Leslie guided Brucie into a relaxed state. Her voice was calm and soothing, leading Brucie deeper into herself, past the layers of vigilance and logic, into the quiet core of her being.

"You're safe here," Leslie intoned. "Let yourself imagine the life you want with your child. The love, the nurturing, the joy. Let yourself feel what it means to care, to protect---not as a warrior, but as a parent. A mother."

Brucie's mind swirled with images: holding her baby for the first time, singing lullabies, kissing scraped knees, cheering at school plays. A warmth spread through her, softening the edges of her ever-analytical mind.

"You are strong, Brucie," Leslie continued. "But strength can be gentle. Strength can be tender. You already have everything you need to be a wonderful mother."

When the session ended, Brucie opened her eyes, and something had shifted. The tension that always lingered in her jaw and shoulders had melted away, replaced by a sense of calm and anticipation.

In the weeks that followed, Brucie threw herself into preparing for her baby---not as the Dark Knight, but as a mother. She found joy in the little things: decorating the nursery, folding tiny clothes, reading parenting books with Alfred over tea.

Her emotional swings became less turbulent as she learned to lean into her new identity. She even caught herself humming while she worked, something she hadn't done in years.

One day, Zatanna stopped by, bringing homemade soup and a smile. She found Brucie knitting a baby blanket, a skill she'd picked up from Alfred.

"You're glowing," Zatanna said, genuinely impressed.

Brucie smiled warmly. "I've never felt more... at peace. I'm looking forward to this, Zatanna. All of it. The sleepless nights, the messy diapers, the chaos. It's a new mission, but one that feels... right."

Zatanna sat beside her, watching her work. "I've seen you face a lot of challenges, Bruce. But this? You're going to be incredible."

Brucie's smile widened. "I hope so. This baby deserves the best, and I'm going to do everything I can to give him that."

As the days turned into weeks and her due date approached, Brucie felt a sense of completeness she hadn't known she was missing. She wasn't just Gotham's protector anymore---she was a mother. And for the first time, she was ready to embrace every moment of it.

In the last weeks before the birth of her baby, Brucie fully embraced her new life. She wasn't just a new mother-to-be---she was a new person. Every decision, every action, was guided by the softer, more empathetic instincts that had gradually become second nature.

The nursery became her sanctuary, a space she poured her heart into. Once stark and functional, it now blossomed with warmth and charm. Soft pastel walls were adorned with whimsical stencils of woodland creatures. A rocking chair sat in the corner, draped with a hand-knit blanket she'd made with Alfred's help.

She carefully selected furniture with an eye for both safety and style: a crib painted in soft cream tones, a changing table stocked with tiny diapers and baby wipes, and shelves filled with books she looked forward to reading aloud.

"This isn't just a room," Brucie thought, running her fingers over the edge of the crib. "This is the baby's first safe place. A place where they'll feel loved."

Brucie stood in front of a full-length mirror, admiring her reflection. She'd never been one for fashion before, but her new feminine sensibilities made her see things differently. The bulky maternity clothes she'd relied on were soon to be replaced by a wardrobe that reflected her softer, gentler self.

She chose outfits that were practical yet elegant: flowing skirts, blouses with delicate embroidery, and dresses that hugged her new form in a way that felt both beautiful and modest.

Shopping for shoes, she found herself drawn to sensible flats and low heels---practical for a mother, but with a touch of sophistication. Even her accessories became more thoughtful: pearl earrings, delicate necklaces, and scarves that added pops of color.

"I feel... more myself than I ever have," she admitted to Alfred one day as they sorted through her new purchases.

Brucie didn't just change her wardrobe and surroundings; she redefined her entire lifestyle. The heavy workouts and strict regimens of her old life were replaced with yoga and long, calming walks around the Wayne estate. Her diet shifted, too---she now focused on nourishing her body for the baby, enjoying fresh fruits, hearty soups, and the occasional indulgent dessert.

She even revisited her hobbies, rediscovering joy in activities she'd long neglected: painting, journaling, and baking with Alfred.

One day, she caught herself giggling as she tried to frost a cake that ended up looking more like a Jackson Pollock painting. "It's not perfect," she said, laughing as Alfred chuckled beside her. "But I'm learning not to worry about perfection anymore."

Perhaps the most significant change was her decision to excise the remnants of her former male persona. She boxed up the suits and ties, the gadgets and tools that once defined her life as Bruce Wayne and the Batman.

"I can't hold onto the past," she told Zatanna during one of their visits. "If I'm going to be the best mother I can be, I need to be fully present---and fully Brucie."

Zatanna nodded, her expression one of pride and admiration. "You've come so far. I hope you know how incredible you are."

Brucie smiled softly. "I feel... lighter. Happier. It's not what I expected, but it feels right."

With each passing day, Brucie grew more excited about meeting her baby. She often sat in the nursery, humming lullabies and imagining the life they would share.

For the first time in years, she wasn't thinking about Gotham's villains or the weight of her responsibilities. She was thinking about love, about family, and about the future she was building---not as Batman, but as Brucie, a mother ready to embrace her new role.

Brucie Wayne's life had settled into a rhythm that was both extraordinary and wonderfully mundane. By day, she was a doting mother to her infant son, Benjamin Zatara Wayne. Her mornings were filled with feeding, burping, and playing peek-a-boo. Alfred was a constant support, offering guidance and care, but Brucie insisted on handling as much of Benjamin's needs as possible.

Her afternoons were spent in the garden or the nursery, humming lullabies and marveling at her son's every coo and giggle. The nursery was often visited by close friends who brought gifts, advice, and endless admiration for the billionaire single mother.

Despite her unique resources and connections, Brucie had chosen to live as any mother would, dedicating herself wholly to her child. The world of superheroes continued without her, though her former allies occasionally checked in, always greeted with warmth but a clear boundary: she was no longer the Dark Knight. She was Benjamin's mother, and that was enough.

Zatanna, still immersed in her life as a superhero, had not forgotten the unusual circumstances of Benjamin's conception. During a recent battle with Klarion, she uncovered an ancient grimoire he had used during their earlier confrontation. In its pages, she found the truth: the spell she had cast to neutralize Klarion's chaos had accidentally rebounded, intertwining with Bruce's physiology and creating new life.

The Joker's involvement had been nothing more than a cruel trick. His confession had been an elaborate joke to sow confusion and chaos in Batman's mind. It had worked.

Zatanna held the truth in her hands and felt the weight of it. She thought of Brucie---how she glowed with happiness as a mother, how fully she had embraced this new chapter of her life. Would telling her the truth undo that joy?

Zatanna sought counsel from her closest allies but kept the specifics vague. "If you knew the truth about something that could change someone's life, but they're happy without knowing, would you tell them?"

Most advised caution, suggesting that some truths were better left unsaid. But the decision was hers to make.

One evening, Zatanna visited Wayne Manor, bringing a basket of enchanted toys for Benjamin. She found Brucie sitting in the garden, cradling her son. The sight was almost too perfect---the way Brucie's face lit up as she kissed Benjamin's forehead, the gentle way she rocked him as he began to drift off to sleep.

"Zatanna," Brucie said softly, looking up. "You've been such a good friend through all of this. I don't think I've ever thanked you properly for helping me navigate... well, everything."

Zatanna smiled, though her heart felt heavy. "You've done all the hard work, Brucie. And look at you now. You're a wonderful mother."

Brucie beamed, her eyes misting with emotion. "He's my world. I can't imagine life without him."

Zatanna hesitated, the truth on the tip of her tongue. But as she looked at the joy and peace radiating from Brucie, she made her decision.

"You've created something beautiful, Brucie," Zatanna said finally. "And I'll always be here for you and Benjamin, no matter what."

Brucie smiled, her attention returning to her son. "I know you will. Thank you, Zatanna. For everything."

Zatanna left that evening with a lighter heart. She knew the truth would remain her burden to bear, but it was a small price to pay for the happiness of her friend.

As the days turned into weeks, Brucie continued to thrive in her role as a mother. Benjamin grew stronger, his laughter filling the halls of Wayne Manor. Brucie found a peace she'd never known, her focus no longer on saving Gotham but on raising her son.

And in the quiet moments, when Benjamin's tiny hand curled around hers, Brucie felt no need to question the past. She was exactly where she was meant to be.

End

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