Title: elseworlds

A/N: Written for the Talia zine! Considering the changes her character went through throughout the years, I wanted to explore those changes a bit and the possibilities she could have had.

Summary: In another world, Damian could have grown up with both his parents, his grandfather, and his aunt. In another world, Nyssa and Talia could have changed the world for the better. It's unfortunate that in this world she is alone.

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1. Nyssa

Talia stared at the absurd tableau in front of her. Her long-lost sister Nyssa. Her somewhat controlling, twisted father Ra's. A sharp knife connecting the two, the blade plunged into her father's chest. His hand gripped the handle, blood dripping down his mouth as he tried to pull it out but Nyssa held it fast, pushing it even deeper into his flesh. As dimly lit as the cave was, it couldn't hide what was happening before her: the death of Ra's Al Ghul.

"This. Is. For. My. Family." Nyssa grunted with each word, twisting the knife deeper and deeper. Her hand was slick with blood. Whatever droplets had splattered on her chest were absorbed by her black shirt.

Ra's mouth fell open, gaping soundlessly. His eyes darted from the dagger to his estranged daughter, as though he couldn't believe his eyes either. The strength leaving his body, he fell to his knees and Nyssa let go of the blade. "Nyssa…" he gurgled, his hand weakly tugging at the blade.

"Father!" Despite her part to play in this, Talia instinctively ran to his side. Helping him was engraved in her by now, as much a part of her as her flesh and bones. "I…"

"Talia…" His head rolled to the side, his dark eyes searching for her.

"I'm here." She cradled him against her chest. His body was so small, so frail. Nothing at all like the man who had travelled the world for eons, whose life spanned centuries. Talia had almost thought him invincible. Yet it had only taken an ordinary knife to take him down. "I'm here."

"Talia…" he croaked, his eyes still searching for her. Too late, she realized he couldn't see anymore. His hand left the dagger, groping blindly in front of him. "My daughter…"

"I'm here," she repeated, clutching his hand. His grip was weak, too weak, and this hurt more than she thought it would. Despite what he'd done, despite her reasons, he was still her father in the end. Their bond would always be more complicated than she'd like.

With a soft gasp, his arm went limp. His eyes stared blankly ahead. Noticing the change, Nyssa crouched before them, her expression flat as she studied him. The sticky blood was still dripping down her hand, landing on the dirt floor with a loud splotch. "Is he?"

"He is," Talia confirmed, gently closing his eyes. If killing him had felt absurd, cradling his dead body felt downright unnatural. Even in her wildest dreams, her father's death was a moment of great import. Surrounded by dignitaries, by top subordinates, with the pomp of a king. Nothing as simple as passing away in a run-down cave, alone with his killers.

"So it is done." Nyssa sighed with relief, sitting on the ground, her legs bent in front of her. Crossing her arms on her knees, she rested her chin on them. "The demon is dead."

"The demon is dead," Talia repeated, the words sounding less real with each passing second. She half expected him to walk out of the Lazarus pit behind her, despite his cooling body still in her hands. "And with him his plans."

"Good riddance." Nyssa wearily closed her eyes, looking unguarded for once. She looked softer, gentler, like the woman she might have been once. The woman she still could have been, had her family lived. Had Ra's helped. Had fate taken a different route than the one that had led them here.

Talia said nothing. Carefully, she set his body on the ground. Down the tunnels, she could hear metal clashing, a sharp sound that echoed in the cave. Batman, perhaps. While her father was dead, his men didn't know that. There was an organization to dismantle, people to remove, and Talia felt a headache forming already. The demon might be dead but he certainly wasn't disposed of. With a sigh, she got up and dusted her pants. "There is work yet to be done."

Nyssa cracked an eye open. Glancing down the tunnel, she shrugged carelessly. "Remnants. Easily disposed with. Your boyfriend is already doing it."

"No, they still remain." Talia grimaced. A failing of Bruce's, really. The inability to kill. She both loved and hated him for it. "Besides, my beloved can't reach the heart of it all, not like we can."

"True." Nyssa lay on her back, stretching her limbs languidly. She looked far too relaxed for what they'd just done. "But my point still stands. Between the two of us, we can tear it all down. Or even repurpose it."

"Repurpose?" Talia raised a brow. "How do you propose we repurpose a gang of killers?"

"Mmm…" Nyssa closed her eyes, mulling it over. "Community service."

"What?" Talia arched a brow, holding back an inelegant snort. "You can't possibly be serious."

"No. A joke." Nyssa chuckled, getting up now. "These killers aren't good for anything else. It would have been nice to build something for once. To create instead of destroying."

Talia stared at her father's corpse, thinking of the bloodshed he'd promised. The bloodshed she'd stopped. It was sentiment she could understand. Something completely unlike her father's teachings. Reaching out, she squeezed her sister's hand, staining her own red. "Perhaps we still can."

2. Bruce

"Beloved…" Talia places a flat hand on her belly, on the slight, fragile bump. It was strange to think there was another life in her, to look in the mirror and spot the changes in her body. Some part of her still didn't believe it was real.

Sitting on her bed, Bruce looked up from the book he was reading. "Is something wrong?"

Yes, she wanted to answer. Many things. Her father was out there, fighting Qayin. Alone. Yet the only person who could catch him, who could beat him, was sitting on her bed looking more and more like a domestic husband with each passing day. "What are you reading?"

Bruce flushed lightly, closing the book. When she looked at his questioningly, clearly not going to drop the subject, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Different baby names."

"Baby names?" She snickered, walking over to his side of the bed. Sitting down, she plucked it out of his hands. Already he was on the letter 'F', and she could spot several Arabic names in the list. An international book of names, it seemed. "A little eager, are we?"

"Just want to be prepared," he muttered, avoiding her gaze. Bruce's ears were still red and if there was one thing he couldn't handle well, it was teasing.

"Your motto in life." It was amusing how excited he was for this baby. She could barely make it through the day without him worrying about her health, food intake, habits, even her sleep. If she were completely honest, it was even sweet how overprotective he was. If a little tiring.

"It doesn't hurt. You never know what could happen." His eyes darkened slightly, and she wondered if he would ever be free of that moment, of those gunshots that ended and started everything.

"I think we are fairly well covered in that regard." She closed the book softly, setting it aside.

Bruce leaned forward, his hand gently caressing the bump. His eyes softened. "I just want the best for him."

Her breath caught. "Or her."

"Or them." Bruce smirked at her confused expression. "Twins or triplets are a possibility."

"I hope not." Talia shuddered. Even with the best doctors money could buy, she did not look forward to the delivery.

His hand still splayed on her belly, Bruce peered up at her. "So what is the matter?"

Observant as usual. Far more observant than she desired. Outside, her father was waiting impatiently for Bruce to join him in his crusade. The only thing stopping her beloved was his overprotective tendencies, his fear to leave her side for longer than a minute. A part of her agreed with Ra's: this could get Bruce killed. And that was something she couldn't allow to happen.

Her hand covered his, pressing it against the bump. While he tried to maintain a serious expression, he couldn't completely hide the joy in his face. If she carried out her plan, if she pretended she miscarried, that smile would be gone. Forever, possibly.

Her father was worth that, she knew. A risk she could take. A risk she should take.

"Talia?" Bruce asks softly, concern colouring his voice.

Their relationship would never be the same after that. When he found out the truth, that she'd used him, he would never open himself like this again to her. Her child might never know their father. Just like she never knew her mother, like Bruce never got to know his parents.

"It's nothing." She leaned forward and kissed him softly. Her father was more than worth the risk but she did not lose this. Ra's would find another way. He always did.

3. Damian

"Mother." Sitting on one end of a long dining table, Damian crossed his arms. Despite the well-prepared breakfast spread in front of him, he pointedly ignored the food and stared at Talia. "We have to do something."

"Something?" Talia asked, delicately picking up her glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Breakfast was usually a quiet matter between them and this change, while not unwelcome, was certainly unexpected. Perhaps she should shorten the table's length. It certainly made it hard to carry a conversation and there was something ridiculous about how it made her short son appear even shorter.

"About father." Damian scowled, his fingers digging into his arms. He bit out the next words. "He has been prancing around with that harlot Selina."

Talia resisted the urge to chuckle. What would Selina's reaction be, to hear her son utter such words? Unamused, most likely. "Your father is often found with other woman."

"True." Damian's frown grew deeper, if possible. If she had doubted he was Bruce's son before, that expression cleared up any uncertainties. "However, this time appears serious."

Well, that much she had to agree on. Then again, Bruce had only ever been serious with a handful of women and this thing with Selina was years in the making. Spreading cream on her bagel, Talia replied lightly, "Then I suppose congratulations are in order."

Damian shot her a blistering glare. "Mother, you are not taking this seriously."

"I am taking this seriously enough." Talia laced her hands together, elbows on the table, and rested her chin on them. "What do you propose I do?"

"Stop him." Damian bluntly stated, looking at her as though she were an idiot. "I do not want to call that woman 'Mother'."

Talia tapped her chin. "I don't know, I find the idea amusing." Selina's face would twist, she was certain of it. A strained smile, gritted teeth, and a chill down the spine as she heard the word. Oh, it would definitely be worth it.

"Mother!" Damian rebuked sharply, grumpily puffing his cheeks. A completely childlike expression, one that she was unused to seeing on her child. The influence could only be from Dick Grayson and the rest of Batman's entourage. Perhaps there was some good from their association.

She could not recall a time when she had acted like a child. Her father had raised her to be perfect, whether it was in competition or leadership. For Damian, Talia wanted it to be different. For there to be love in her methods, a love unlike her father's stern hands. An allowance for failures, room to learn, and perhaps a chance at companionship.

"Very well. I suppose I owe your father a short visit." Talia bit into her bagel. "Though I do not imagine that will change much."

4. Ra's

"You're frail." Damian's lips curled into a haughty smirk, a sneer most impressive for a boy who was just five.

Talia sighed softly. Just how did her son get to be so overly precocious? Bruce claimed Damian's aristocratic tendencies came from her. Whether that was true or not, her son's arrogance was certainly from his father. "Damain," she warned sharply.

"What?" Standing in front of his grandfather, Damian glanced over his shoulder to look at her. His immaculate appearance fit in perfectly with the manicured lawn and carefully crafted hedges of Bruce's manor. Even his little bowtie was perfectly straight.

"Respect your grandfather." Talia set a hand on her hip, shaking her head when he tried to protest. Bruce had coddled the boy too much, leaving it to her to be stern. "Now."

"I thought you wanted the truth," Damian muttered, his chubby cheeks forming a pout. A rare childish display from him and she was relieved that he hadn't entirely grown up yet.

"It's fine." Ra's chuckled, crouching down next to Damian. He ruffled his grandson's hair. "The boy already knows his mind."

"The boy has a name." Damian scowled, swatting away his hands.

"See? A true Al Ghul, ready to take on the world." More amused than offended, Ra watched Damian fondly. It was an expression she had never thought she'd see on her father. Perhaps miracles did exist in this world.

"Don't encourage him," Bruce admonished, holding a tray full of tea cups as he joined them. At Talia's questioning look, he shrugged. "Alfred deserves a break—he had his hands full with Damian as is."

"Is that not why he's the help?" In all honesty, her husband was far too soft.

"He's also family." Bruce shook his head. If there was one thing he refused to budge on, it was Alfred's status. Considering what the butler had done for her beloved, she was willing to let it slide. "Let him rest. Dick's back; I'm sure he's up for babysitting"

"I suppose there is some good to your endless adoptions, beloved." Talia leaned into his side, closing her eyes. Ignoring the occasional fights that broke out with Tim, Damian had more or less slipped in with the rest of Bruce's children seamlessly. Or rather, he was forced to fit in; there were far too many busybodies in the house and Dick and Stephanie never seemed to understand the word 'No'.

"I think Damian likes them more than he lets on." Bruce kissed the top of her head. "Besides, it's nice to have siblings."

"What would you know about that?" Nyssa appeared on his other side, picking up a cup of tea. She smirked at her sister. "You have him completely housebroken."

"Almost," Talia corrected, pulling back to flick her husband on the nose. "A certain someone does not remember his age and continues to galivant in the night."

Setting down the tray on a nearby table, Bruce raised a brow. "There's a lot to do. I can't just stop."

"Yet that is exactly what I expect, beloved. Is that not why you have those other children?" Talia admonished. It was an age-old argument, one that would not be solved until he either died or finally accepted her words. And she would not wait for the former.

Around her was perfection: her father with his grandchild, her sister and her husband competing to spoil her son rotten, a family that was whole and complete. Come what may, she would make sure it stayed that way.

5. Talia

"Are you sure about this?" A servant asked, his knee bent as he stared at the dirt floor.

Talia scuffed her foot on the dirt cave a last time. Like her father, the cave was old, outdated. A mark of times long gone, when technology didn't rule the world. "No, it's time we left this cave. You can't conquer a world from here, let alone save it."

"Yes, but…" The servant swallowed before bravely forging on. "Forgive me, but I was talking about your son."

"Ah. Damian." The word stung a little as she uttered it and for a moment, she understood her father's pain when she had killed him all those years ago. Betrayal of blood hurt the most. "What about him?"

"Leviathan," the servant forced out. "Your son…he might die."

Talia lowered her eyes, staring at the floor. In the hollow cave, her servant's words echoed, each reverberation weaker than the last. How strange it was, to plan her own son's death. That after all of her fights against her father, she was doing the very thing she had hated him for. How much of her family's blood lay on her hands?

Yet somehow that thought wasn't enough to stop her. Coldly, she dismissed her servant's concern. "I had already considered that."

And perhaps the worst part was that she felt nothing about it. She was more like her father than she realized: ruthless, harsh, cruel. A killer to the core. There might have been a time long ago, a time when she could have taken a different path. Reached a different ending. One that was full of joy, one that was surrounded by family.

That was neither here nor there. Now there was an inferno in her, a desire that no water could quench. A goal that she would achieve, no matter the stakes. Talia smirked, leaving behind the cave and those what-ifs.

"You get me wrong. I intend for his death."