Dick, Jason, Tim, Steph, Cass and Damian must have all experienced this at least once.

The look of disappointment in his eyes is almost as gut wrenching as his attacks. I glance away when we meet eyes, clenching my fists at the strangeness of it all. 

I never thought Bruce and I would have to pretend to like each other.

We shake hands.

He is still disappointed.

I plaster a smile on my face and so does he as we take a seat with Jim in-between us. This will do for putting on a show. The mayor steps up to the podium and the waiting crowd, full of civilians and journalists, begin listening.

I catch every second word but for the most part I sit plain faced and as still as possible. The same words are swirling in my head like they might do a child's. Particularly a child doused in yellow, red and green.

Batman is disappointed in me. 

It hurts. Already feeling sick from pregnancy symptoms makes it so much worse.

Does this mean he will not want to see his grandchild very often? I hoped at least that they might want a night with him or her every week, but perhaps not.

I wonder how much he is on Jason's side? Have they talked much since then? Jason did tell me all that time ago that he rarely spoke to Bruce. I know I helped in that situation.

Kalie said Jason didn't look well. Does that mean no one is helping him? And where is Roy?

I hear myself get introduced and suddenly everyone is clapping. I quickly get to my feet with a fresh smile, waving elegantly as I take the podium. The cheers for the mayor, for everyone really, do not compare to the excited roar of the cheers for me. They love me more than the others by a land slide.

"Why hello," I begin when they quieten, only for those simple words to create even more screams. It used to be endearing, but now it is frightening.

Imagine the hate should I ever turn my back on this job.

"I think our wonderful mayor covered most of it, but I just want to re-iterate how we in particular at the District Attorney's office are so grateful for this city wide report. Over the last few years the approval rating of the work your leaders are doing has slowly risen, but to get such a jump this year as a result of all of our hard work, from the Wayne Foundation to the GCPD to my Attorneys and I, is such an honour. My number one goal when I came into this job was always to look out for the people with no voice, and to take the voice from those who have been screaming louder than anyone for their own undeserved gain. To have it acknowledged that I have achieved that is just another reminder that I owe it to this city to continue to fight for you. Because it is within my capability to defend you against the injustice that still plagues Gotham. Your strength is our strength. Your hope is our hope. Your vote in this poll has told us what we need to improve and what is actually working. We're doing it together and that's a bigger step than any we have taken this year as a city. So I'd like to thank you for your contribution, because it makes all the difference when we're one."

My team wrote it. I didn't have the time. I was dry heaving in my office to avoid morning sickness. The motivation wasn't there because these polls happen every year. Gotham takes a survey on the city's view of how their leaders are doing to improve the city. It's always improving and I have basically said the same thing every year.

The applause when I return to my seat is just as roaring as when I left it. When Jim goes up he opens with a joke about how he is supposed to follow such a speech. It wasn't even in the words, but the delivery.

As he continues to speak, I start to get the chills. My mouth begins watering and that horrible twisty feeling in my stomach returns from the morning.

I sigh out a fuck and bow my head, gritting my teeth and squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to will the pain away.

"Venus,"  I don't look at Bruce upon his call, "Are you okay?"

Am I okay? Does it look like I'm okay, you fucking idiot?

"I'm going to be sick," I snap in a whisper before lunching out of my seat as discreetly as possible, turning and jumping off the back of the stage. I dash towards the City Hall doors, the few people there murmuring as I move past them.

Inside it is deserted and the only noise is the loud clicking of my heels reverberating in my throbbing brain. They echo in the bathroom and when I get there I enter the first stall, keel over and throw up breakfast, bacon and everything in-between.

Of all the things I hate in this world, the Rose Wilsons and the Talia Al Ghuls, throwing up is one of them. I would rather get a bullet to the stomach than a bug.

So when I stumble to the basin and grip it tightly to try and steady myself, the last thing I want to hear is the door open. Someone walks in and I prepare the façade, but when I look up, the glitz falls away.

"This is the women's bathroom."

"I'm aware," Bruce responds, slipping his hands into his pockets as the door shuts, "Are you alright? During the fourth month of pregnancy nausea can be very dangerous."

He pulls a water bottle from his pocket like magic.

"Here."

I stare at the bottle with a frown, then look up at his face, then back at the bottle, then I turn away from him.

"I don't need your help. I've got through the last two just fine on my own. The first two none of you even knew. You're only here now out of guilt."

I take a step back and fix my hair, tightening the ponytail, straightening my jacket. I'm fine. I'm completely, absolutely-

I shove Bruce to the side as I step back into the stall, bend down and throw up. 

"Yeah, you're fine," I hear him say sarcastically as he moves my ponytail out of the way. I want to push him away but the emotions grip me like a vice. Know what else happens at four months? The hormones start to get out of control.

Emotional.

The warm hand on my back is an unwelcome comfort. Because I don't want it, because I want them to know I don't need their help. Or perhaps just think it.

I slam the toilet seat down and flush it. Bruce steps out of the way as I walk back toward the basins, feeling a headache coming on now.

He nudges me with the bottle and I don't argue this time, taking it with a sigh.

"I'm handling it."

"Tim says you missed your four month ultra-sound. Is that what you call handling it?"

"Tim needs to stop hacking my stuff," I snap, opening the bottle with my head bent. I don't even want to look at him. "I had that launderer right where I wanted him, you know that. The court date was set and there's no way I was going to hand it off to one of the others. I wanted it done right." 

"Your ADAs aren't you," Bruce agrees, "But they're capable." Capability doesn't always cut it.

It's true, I did miss an ultrasound for a case, but I don't have the time. It will get better after this. It will.

It will. 

"Can I ask you something?" He voices, a little bit softer. I feel like he looks at me like some woodland creature that shouldn't be spooked.

"You just did," I sigh, leaning my back on the wall beside the basin.

Bruce moves, leaning on the other side so we don't have to look at each other when he asks the inevitable.

"You're running for the next term."

"I am."

"How are you going to manage that?" 

Even though I knew the question was coming, I find the ability to answer slip away. Anything I say will sound stupid to him, because I know all my plans come with faults he will immediately point out, being himself.

"Well," I sound annoyingly raspy, breaking as I speak, "My original plan was that my baby would have a stay at home dad." My teeth grind together hard and I knock my head back into the wall to keep the tears sitting in my eyes.

Bruce doesn't interrupt.

"Instead, my sister is going to come and stay with me."

"Your sister?" He frowns immediately, "I thought nobody had seen Ginger in months."

I shake my head, "No one has, but I wasn't talking about Ginger."

His eyes snap toward me and his frowns turns bewildered, "Caelan? Venus, what-"

"Tell me my other option, Bruce," I cut in weakly, staring right back at him with the same lost face, "I'm going to be a working single mom, with no actual experience having a mother or being one. Who else am I going to ask? I stopped speaking to my normal friends a long time ago, my secretary has to continue to be that, my extended family are Bratva," He pushes off of the wall, turns, "Tell me my other options, because I-"

Bruce Wayne is Batman, not someone used to divulging emotion or providing it in any constant. So when he reaches for me I flinch like it's an attack.

Instead, his arms circle me in a warm hug.

"Your other option is that your other family steps up."

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Sorry it's short but it had to be if I wanted to post today! Sorry about the break, we'll be back on track soon <3