Damian Al Ghul stopped seeing his twin sister when they turned seven, and she left. When he became Damian Wayne, he stopped thinking about her altogether.

Except that wasn't true at all. He didn't want to think about her, but the thought of her came unwillingly. Sometimes at the sight of other twins who were close, familial. Sometimes at the sight of daggers like the one that cut the skin of his throat that night. Usually at the thought of his brothers who he now admits are family despite not boasting any sort of blood connection.

He remembers that fateful day. He remembers the moment when the realization that she was not an invalid, as his Grandfather often implied, struck him. He remembers the rage, he remembers the righteous fury.

He remembers the feeling of betrayal of having someone so small and so weak, someone who has never once bested him, draw his blood in their first ever serious fight, and win .

She was sharp, as sharp as the blades she was beholden to holding. She was so, so fast. He felt like he could barely keep up when he knew now that he was the one with all of the genetic enhancements. He wondered how much taller he would be compared to her own height, if he would still tower over her if she were still alive.

Which she was not. And will never be again, that she was killed by his Grandfather's assassins and she was not considered to be worth enough to revive in the pits. She had been seven, and they had been seasoned, so much older, faster, more experienced. There was no chance that she survived that chase. He had never even seen the body. They didn't hold a funeral. It really was as if she never existed.

If only he could forget her existence. It has been seven years. He had barely even known her.

Never once did anyone tell him that she had done missions too, tens of them, that she was a formidable assassin in her own right. That she was competent, that she was smart. She knew twenty more languages than he did at that age, that her studies were so advanced. They never told him that she wasn't just another subordinate in the League he could snub.

That she was his sister.

Nobody told him what that had meant, what that was supposed to mean. Especially between twins.

He had only learned once he was out as well, and now that she was dead.

Did he regret it? He didn't know. He was young, a child. Now he was fourteen, and a lifetime older than he had been back then.

Did he resent her? Maybe. The answer to that question was even more shrouded in darkness. After she had won and she had left and died, his training regiment was essentially doubled. It was as if he had to pick up his sister's training for his own, in addition to the ghost of her presence that haunted his daily life.

He had not seen her often.

But he had still seen her, in passing. In their mother's chamber. During spars.

That day.

When he never saw her again, it was as if a hole in his heart had been carved out. It was a space he'd never even realized he'd lent to her, his only twin.

They shared a womb together. And yet the people he now calls his family are a ragtag group of adopted children and their Father who she will never meet, and who will never know of her existence.

Tim was running on two hours of sleep and fifteen shots of espresso. Why? Insomnia. And also, he had paperwork to do. He had a company to run, cases to crack. When the hell did he have time to sleep? When did anyone have time to go to sleep?

People sleep? Sounds fake.

He was red-eyed and heavily caffeinated when his phone rang. It was Barbara, AKA the Oracle.

"Hey, O. What's up?" He answered, a lot more normally than he reasonably should be able to act like, having been awake for the third day in a row.

"...Have you slept at all?"

Damnit. She could tell immediately.

"I don't know, sounds fake."

Barabara sighed. "I'll ignore it for now. But I'm forcing you to sleep later."

"Psh."

"You know I can revoke your tech privileges. I will find a way."

"Fine," Tim let out a dramatic sigh. "Why'd you call, anyways?"

"There's a situation in France," Barbara's tone turned grave.

"We have European heroes in the League," he responded, surprised at the turn.

"It's a... special situation. You'll see," she says as he received a ping on the Batcomputer, and he opened it to find what looks to be live feed from somebody's phone. The video was somewhat blurred, a limitation of the phone he supposes, but it was clear enough to see what was happening.

It was the aftermath of a hero fight inside a massive cathedral, probably Notre Dame if they're in Paris, with a singular figure visible in frame.

"Zoom into that girl."

He squinted, leaning closer into the screen as he digitally zoomed in until her face was somewhat clear. "She sort of looks like Damian."

Another ping came as he opened the message to what looked to be information on the girl, documentation, clear photos. 'Marinette Dupain-Cheng' , the doc read.

She was born female, thirteen, adopted. The photo available in the document looked to be fairly recent, an olive face with red cheeks and a hesitant smile. She wasn't alone in the picture. She was with three other people, presumably her classmates or her friends. One he recognized as a teen model and the son of a fashion mogul he'd met in a gala at some point. He stared at the picture quizzically—maybe it was just the sleep deprivation.

He furrowed his brows. "...She has Bruce's eyes."

"Yeah, she does." She bobbed her head.

His eyes widened at the realization as his brain caught up to the statement. "Oh, hell no."

"Oh, hell yes," Barbara rebutted.

"No fucking way."

"Rewind the feed to seven minutes earlier," she sighed.

He watched as two heroes, a mouse heroine, and a black cat hero (should- should he be worried Damian will find a black cat themed person as well? Was it genetic!? ) were brutally battered in a fight between a ghoulish looking villain.

In another tab, he pulled up the blog the feed was from. The Ladyblog. The girl who ran it was the same as one of the people in the picture from earlier.

He winced as he watched the mouse hero get slammed into a pillar, and buried under the rubble. "Are they League?"

"No, but there have been attempts made to recruit them. They have Diana's vouch, but they're not officially part of it."

He nodded, humming. They seemed somewhat young, but he felt the telltale fuzz in his head that signified magic. They likely had some sort of magic protecting their identities.

He gasped as the mouse hero suddenly burst into a bright white light, and the fuzz disappeared.

"What type of magic are we looking at?"

"Miraculous. It's very, very classified apparently. Diana's guarding the info."

Out of the bright light, emerged a familiar face. Damian's female look alike with Bruce's eyes. "Ah. So that's the situation."

Barbara audibly sighed in the affirmative.

"Her civilian identity wasn't known before this, was it?"

"Nope."

"Do we have DNA samples?"

He took a sip of his coffee at the exact wrong moment, as 'Marinette' suddenly launched herself in an extremely familiar way. The stance, the walk, the attack style. It had the League of Assassins written all over it, he thought egregiously.

The girl, unmasked, unarmored, but not unarmed, slit the villain's throat almost quicker than the camera could pick up.

"Do we even need DNA samples?!" He said after a spit take. "This has Talia written all over it."

"It does, but we still need them," she responded with a tired lilt in her voice. "That, and we need to tell Bruce."

"He doesn't know?"

"Not yet."

He was suddenly launched into a deeper thought. "Do you think Damian knows?"

"No clue."

"If he doesn't then I think we should be a little worried about his reaction."

"A little?" Barbara chuckled.

"If he does, then that's a whole 'nother can of worms."

He was already standing up to make his way into the Manor, having already pinged the rest of his family. He even messaged Jason and Dick despite them not being currently in-house. He considered this important enough for a full on family meeting. No, this was definitely enough to warrant a family meeting. There was a very high likelihood that this girl was going to soon join it.

"Family meeting?" Barbara inquired, already knowing the answer.

"Family meeting." He answered tiredly.

"See you there." She ended the call.