Title: Bat Son

Notes: AU written for the YJ anon meme prompt: Billy Batson is actually Batman's son. In this AU Billy is an only child and Batman does not know Captain Marvel's secret identity (no one in the League does).

Dear Bruce,

If you are reading this letter – and, more than anything, I hope you never will– it means that something has happened to both me and my husband. It means that we are both dead. Even as I'm writing this now, I tell myself how unlikely an outcome that is, that it'll never happen, that it simply can't happen. But even someone as – how did you put it? – almost painfully optimistic as me knows that unexpected things, bad things can happen to anyone, anytime, no matter how young, healthy, happy and invulnerable one might be feeling because no one is invulnerable; no one is ever completely safe – those were your words, of course.

There is something I have to tell you – I have to tell you, but the truth is that I don't plan on doing it, not as long as I live, and that is selfish although I tell myself that it isn't only for my sake, that it's for the sake of my family, for Billy's sake.

Billy is your son, Bruce.

I don't know if you even remember me and the night we spent together, just two lonely Americans running into each other in Tibet. It doesn't really matter; it didn't mean anything. Except that I got pregnant and, nine months later, gave birth to my – and your – son. At that time, however, I was already engaged to my then fiancé and now husband, the love of my life, who not only accepted Billy but loves him like his own child.

At this point, you may not believe me, who knows? Maybe you've heard this kind of story before – I know you're very wealthy, I looked up your name and, well, I was stunned by what I found: Bruce Wayne, multimillionaire. I really hadn't heard of you before, I'm from Fawcett City, remember? You made fun of me for that when we first met; you said it explained a lot about me. And to this day I haven't been to Gotham; I travel frequently, of course, it comes with the job, but I still never visited your city. I may have been avoiding it, avoiding you.

I felt – feel – guilty about this Bruce, about keeping your son a secret from you. I know I've robbed you of something invaluable, and the worst part is that I don't even regret it. We were happy, Bruce. My husband, Charles Batson, Billy, who is already two years old and growing so incredibly fast, and I, we were a happy family. I didn't want to risk losing this.

But, if you're reading this letter, then that means Billy has lost us, his parents. It means that he is alone in this world, and that he needs you now. You may hate me for what I did to you; you've got every right to, but, please, don't blame Billy. I don't plan on telling him anything, so he never knew about you. None of this is his fault and the last thing I want is for him to be punished for something I did.

Please understand that this isn't about money, I don't care how rich you are, and neither will your son – all I want, all he needs, is for you to be there for him.

I'm sorry, Bruce, I really am.


Fawcett City, 08/09/2002

Fawcett City, 04/02/2010

Finding the letter, that had been a spot of luck in the long string of unpleasant developments following the more or less tragic demise of his annoying little half-brother and his insipid wife who had left him burdened with their spoiled little brat.

Ebenezer'd gotten rid of that kid soon enough. There had been the small gift of the brat's inheritance, hardly compensation, really.

But now this, this was on a completely different level. Bruce Wayne, billionaire, Bruce Wayne. If only he'd found the letter sooner, if only he'd really looked at it before putting it aside back then! Well, it was lucky that he hadn't tossed it out like most of the other sentimental garbage Billy's parents had left behind!

Oh, it didn't matter now, he'd just have to get the kid back from that foster home – dim-witted as the boy was, he'd probably believe whatever lie Ebenezer would come up with and come along happily and then, then, he'd just have to contact Wayne. There'd be a paternity test, probably. Wayne wasn't an idiot, after all – billionaires rarely were (at least not the ones that stayed billionaires). But Ebenezer wasn't all that worried about it; his late sister-in-law had been a lot of things – a naïve, annoying goody two shoes to name only one – but she hadn't been a liar.

And then, well, little Billy Batson would finally be worth something.