[2] Batman & Black Widow Forever Allies [2]

No Place Like Home

2026 Update!: This FanFiction is going through a huge rewrite! It's been years since I wrote this series, my writing style has improved so much in that time- so don't be confused if the tone/style changes half way through- the rewrite is a work in progress (will update here when complete)

The border sign was worse than I remembered.
Once upon a time it read WELCOME TO GOTHAM CITY. Now, under layers of spray‑paint and spite, it screamed WELCOME TO HELL.

Charming.

I swung my leg over my bike, snapped my helmet into place, and gunned the engine. The sun was bleeding out across the horizon — Gotham's version of a warning siren. I wasn't afraid of the dark; I'd lived in it long enough. But I needed to see him before the city swallowed the night whole.

Ten months. Ten months since everything shattered.

Barbara Gordon — my best friend, my sister in all but blood — had been brutalized by the Joker. The attack left her paralyzed from the waist down. The doctors said she was lucky to be alive. I disagreed. There was nothing lucky about what happened.

I'd stormed Arkham in a rage so blinding I barely remembered the beating I gave the Clown Prince. He survived. Barely. Last I heard, he was still in a coma.
Better than he deserved.

But the worst part wasn't Joker. It was what I said to Batman afterward — words sharp enough to cut through Kevlar. Words I regretted every day since.

Leaving Gotham had broken something in me. Leaving him had shattered the rest. Bruce meant more to me than I could articulate, and I'd never been good at positive emotions anyway. But I missed them all — Dick's reckless humor, Tim's relentless optimism, Barbara's warmth, Alfred's quiet kindness... and Bruce. Even the brooding. Even the temper.

My fuel gauge dipped into the red. Perfect. Every station I'd passed was shuttered, like the city was bracing for impact.

I'd spent the last few months running solo ops, occasionally taking ARGUS contracts, mostly working under my own rules. But no matter how far I went, Gotham's misfits stayed lodged under my skin.
Especially Bruce.

---

Gotham City – Gas Station

I finally found a station still lit, its flickering neon fighting a losing battle against the December gloom. From here, Wayne Tower stabbed upward into the sky — a dark sentinel watching over a dying city.

Was he up there now?

Inside, the station was too quiet. Gotham in December should've been buzzing with shoppers and tourists. Instead, it felt like a mausoleum. I grabbed a newspaper; the headline screamed GOTHAM GANG WAR ESCALATES.

Great. I leave for ten months and the city decides to reenact The Purge.

The attendant barely looked at me — good. The blonde wig did its job. No one recognized the infamous Black Widow buying crisps and cheap beer.

He rang up my total. "Thirty‑four dollars, ma'am."

Ugh. Ma'am.

I paid cash. Cards were too traceable.

"You staying long?" he asked, voice tight with worry.

"Just got back," I said.

"If you've got air miles left, keep traveling. This gang war's getting worse. I'd leave myself, but... my little sister."

Gotham's citizens were always the ones trapped in the crossfire — jobs, families, commitments. They couldn't just run.

I slid a fifty across the counter. "Buy her something nice."