"I uphold honesty, as something very important in my campaign. So I won't lie and say that I know what it's like to be an orphan. But the people who built this wonderful place were the right people to choose, because they do. I say wonderful not because of the things that will bring its occupants here, but because of the wonderful things that will happen when they are. This facility, this home, Gotham Nurture, will offer the care that every child deserves. I said at the start that this was a goal of mine; to change things. Gotham has never had an orphanage with such heart and focus on the children as we'll be seeing. There's so much change happening and being a part of it is such an honour, and I'd like to thank the Wayne Foundation and Gothamites Unite for their assistance in building this dream of Gotham's oppressed."

She was never the most emotional. Passionate, but he understood that missing from Venus' campaign was something deep and personal. Background history of her purpose.

The DA spends a few seconds staring at the crowd, thinking the same thing by his guess. She dons a solemn smile and speaks in softer tones.

"As I said, I don't know about being an orphan. I had a very loving father," she smiles at the thought of her dad, likely to be watching. "I did not grow up with a mother. I've never seen it as a great loss, personally. I mean look at how far I've got without one. I credit a lot of my values and my abilities to how I was raised."

The crowd, reporter and cameramen reactions are instantaneous.

Sunlight glistens against the white stage Venus is standing on, her red outfit stark behind the podium. In the background is the large building she had helped create.

"I want this home behind me to not only be a place for warm hugs and good ears. I want it to be a place where life lessons are learned. Where wisdom is provided at a young age so it sticks. Following Gotham Nurture will be my new project, Gotham Generation. This will be a program for children who reach the age of 18 to move into. It will provide jobs and options for education. Children will have people to talk to about the things they want to do. The process starts earlier so they are prepared. This is how we improve. We start with the future, which is our children."

The crowd claps in response to her. He's never been so proud.

"I'm glad you came," a rough, familiar voice says behind from behind him. It occurs to Jason to run away, but in the broad daylight of the morning it wasn't the best idea.

Besides, was there a point in hiding?

"Just wanted to see how the orphanage was going to turn out. Spent some time in a couple' shitty ones, you know that."

Bruce nods, "I know that."

They watch as Venus poses for a photo with the members of Gothamites Unite, before the crowd applaud and even stand as she exits the stage.

Teeth grind together when he watches her descend the steps, where she meets with a timid ADA, her campaign manager and Kalie.

Venus' hand comes up to rest at the small of her secretary's back, leading her to the white and glass building of Gotham Nurture.

Something alike to jealousy floods his veins, but he pretends he's ignoring it.

If Jason still had a say in anything, he'd tell Venus to change the design. The building looks very clinical and cold from the outside, but he has a feeling that it will change when the gardens grow and popular opinion floods in.

Behind him, there is no noise, but rather a presence.

"Shouldn't you be down there?" He asks Bruce, getting to his feet. They may be on a building on the other side of the road, but they can still see the event clearly.

"There would be too many questions for me, such as 'Bruce, where is Jason?' and 'Is Venus Meadow still a part of your family?'.

The only response Bruce gets is a scoff, Jason unfolding his arms and turning around, heading for the staircase of the roof.

"Jason."

"No."

"Listen. Can't you do that, for one second? You were so much easier to talk to when you-"

"Were dating my mom's killer? Yeah, you're right Bruce. I guess you're going to ask me to pretend I still am, right? For her, right? So the public thinks she's stable, right?" Jason snaps.

Bruce spends a few moments with cold eyes on Jason. It's hard for the younger not to flinch under such a terrifying gaze. Bruce's eyes were never warm, even when they were welcoming. There was too much pain, too much loss.

"You wouldn't be doing it for her. Think of it as a service to the city. Gotham needs Venus Meadow. Someone as loving as they are stern. Once the public find out that the two of you are not together anymore the media will drown her in it and Eli could take a lead. Do you really want that?"

Jason keeps his eyes on the paved roof. Of course he doesn't want that. Hell, he was ready to kill Eli Delaney to get Venus the win.

"The hold she has on the city isn't that weak. A break-up won't tip anything. Nice try," Jason snaps, arms still folded in a tight wind.

"Perhaps not, but does Venus really deserve the media outcome? She has done all of this for the city and will continue to do more when she wins. Do you really want them to be talking about her love life instead?"

Jason wants to make a bitey comeback at Bruce. To tell him that he sounds like a campaign ad. A rehearsed speech like he is a sponsor.

"She doesn't deserve it," he tries, "to win," knowing he's lying to himself now.

"Doesn't deserve it? Like it's a privilege, or a sentence? Because there are no privileges in her job and you know that. There are a number of taxing efforts and consequences though. You're right, she doesn't deserve that," Bruce snaps, making Jason flinch.

He told himself she didn't need that kind of help, from him. And whilst that is true, she needs him for this.

Sighing, he finally looks up at his adoptive father, "What do I need to do?"

~

"It's fine."

"I can help," she argues, but with a smile, staring up at me.

"It's okay, really," I tell Kalie, patting her hand, "I think I know where it is."

Whilst touring the orphanage with her has been fun, the last thing I want to do now is bring her home. That alone may send the wrong idea.

As a result, the limo drops her home first. She looks dejected as she gets out of the car, but it's something I can ignore. I wave with a smile and the door closes.

Immediately I slump back into the seat, exhausted. I had woken up, vomiting this morning and all I want is a damn glass of wine but I can't.

It wasn't even my current condition that had me throwing up. It was the undeniable craving for bacon that put my stomach in shock once I downed a sandwich full of the stuff.

My vegan body could not handle it.

I'm going home to eat an entire pot of rice, but not until I find it. 

Talking about my non-existent mother during my speech was uncomfortable. I don't talk about my mother; hell, I don't talk about my family, to the public.

It was a silent agreement between myself, Ginger and Caelan to never speak about the woman who is happy to not know us. Every time we talk about her I end up having to get over it again.

I do that, by first observing the one photo I have of her.

The others would be angry and jealous if they knew I had it. I was the one who asked about my mother the most, and eventually my father had slid the photograph to me on the sly.

My only issue is, I can't remember where I put it when I moved.

As soon as the limo pulls up to my apartment I get out and speed walk to the front door, eager to get this over and done with.

If it goes on any longer I might end up giving in to my alcoholism again.

Impatiently I tap my bag as the elevator goes up. When it reaches the top my new security system requires a thumb and eye print.

When that's over with I dash into my apartment, throw away my heels and my hand bag and slip off my blazer before I make it to the wardrobe. 

"Now, where are you?" I murmur to myself. What is it that people say? Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness?

I allow myself a second to breathe. The photo is in a frayed peacock box, alongside a few other important things, like my name change certificate and memorabilia. 

I pull my summer shoe box out and step up onto it, so I can see the top shelf. It would be easier if I had someone talle-...It would be easier if I were taller.

My fingers run along the spines of books and plastic boxes, looking for that one box in particular. All of these hold paperwork and old cases and some legal stuff after my transit.

There is no way it would fit on the shelf I'm looking at; it's not deep enough. I'm looking for something longer and shiny.

I shift to the next shelf, pushing apart two cube cabinets when I see something blue glistening in the light. Blindly, I reach for it, turning my head to the side to grab at it.

Beneath me I feel the chest stars to strain a bit, so I jump down, throwing the grey piece of clothing on the floor before climbing back up again.

This time I manage to pull the box out, gently taking it into my arms as I step back down to the carpet floor.

"There you are," I murmur, placing the box on the chest and kneeling down.

I lift the lid off, coming to face things I'm trying to forget or hoping to remember. I gently take out a drawing done by Drew when he was a toddler and place it beside me.

Following that is an image of myself and an old friend from the Warriors of Red days, my confirmation paper as DA, a picture of Simon, a picture of Caelan and a picture of Hiroshi and I.

At the bottom of the papery box corner is the image. Taking a deep breathe, I gently pluck it out. It is unclear and not nearly distinctive enough, but it's more than nothing.

The image is black and white. There is a motorbike in the middle of a garden. My father, young and handsome, it sitting on it with his arms around my mother.

Her head is sort of down, because they are both laughing. She is wearing a white top and pants, with a flower in her manicured blonde hair.

Caelan, Menolly and Simon all ended up with her hair. Ginger, myself and Drew all have dad's mahogany. 

I'm staring at the way I can just see her eyes, full of light, when something red catches my attention behind my hand.

It is the piece of material I had pulled out before, crumpled up in a pile a metre away. The way it is laying has a bit of red shining under the yellow light.

The photo lay back in the box as I reach for the shirt, already remembering what it is.

I hold it by the collar and it falls open to reveal the Red Hood symbol and a rush of memory and emotion. 

"Don't you like it?" I ask, smiling a little.

If I had blinked I would have missed it. Him suddenly surging across the room, slipping his hands underneath my ass and hoisting me up onto him.

"Like it?" I hear him say, biting into my neck before he throws me onto the bed. Things get perfectly rough at that point. He leans down. "I love it."

Grinning possessively, I reach up and flip us, putting me on top where I belong. I begin unbuttoning his shirt, primary goal being remove all clothing.

"Prove it," I practically sing.

I settle back into the carpet, folding my legs. The material is soft against my palms, even softer against my face when I press it there.

Jason. 

To think I had forgotten about this, donning my favourite symbol of all time. Representing one of the largest events in our relationhship; the sex.

Not to be thought as despicable or risqué. I'm talking about the genuine bonding that happened in those time. The joining that meant more than any public image.

We were perfect.

Until it was all torn down. 

Until the past came back to haunt. 

Until fate decided that one of my thousand victims and the woman who gave birth to him happened to be the same people.

Until he couldn't understand that it doesn't mean enough to break us down.

Until our bond proved so weak that it was recreated with that silver-haired bitch.

Until even our child couldn't save what we had.

Until every fucking piece of my heart and soul was completely shattered, rendering my an empty shell alone and confused.

Until we were both dust to each other.

The shirt is in two pieces when I look back down, tears dripping down to match the singed material in my hands.

"What have you done to me?" I whisper to the shadows in my wardrobe.