As spring arrived in Gotham, bringing a hint of warmth to the cool nights, Maggie's patience began to wear thin. The long, quiet months after the winter break had given her time to think, to feel restless. Despite the lingering trauma from Nina's obsession, she'd been training harder than ever with Bruce, Barbara and Jason, learning everything she could to hold her own. But Bruce still hadn't granted her permission to join him in the field. He'd been firm, insisting that she wasn't ready. Yet Maggie knew she was capable; she'd felt it in every sparring session, every practice drill. She couldn't keep waiting for approval—not when the city was right there, full of people who needed help, full of a world she was eager to protect.
So, one night, after everyone else in the manor had gone, Maggie made up her mind. She'd been planning this for weeks, studying the streets of Gotham in secret, memorizing maps and escape routes, observing the rhythms of the night from the rooftops whenever she had the chance. She'd even put together a makeshift costume, dark and inconspicuous, with enough pockets for the basic tools she'd taken from the Batcave's extra supplies. As she slipped out of her room and crept down the hall, heart pounding in her chest, she felt a thrill of excitement and freedom. She was finally going to prove herself.
Her first night out was a learning experience. The streets of Gotham felt both familiar and foreign under the cover of darkness. She stayed to the shadows, moving silently as she watched for trouble. She'd chosen a quieter part of the city; one she knew wouldn't have as many hardened criminals as the more dangerous neighborhoods. But even in this "safer" area, there were still people up to no good—she caught sight of a group of teenagers tagging a wall with graffiti, a few people breaking into cars, and a couple of petty arguments that nearly turned into fights.
On her third night out, Maggie had her first real encounter. She was crouched on a fire escape, listening to the sounds of the alley below, when she heard a scuffle—a man yelling, a woman's voice pleading. Peering over the edge, she saw a man roughly holding a young woman against the wall, her purse clutched in his free hand. Without hesitating, Maggie dropped down from the fire escape, landing quietly behind the man.
"Hey!" she called, her voice steady and firm. "Let her go."
The man turned, surprised, but quickly laughed, his sneer apparent even in the dim light. "And who are you supposed to be? Batman's little helper?"
Maggie felt a surge of anger but kept her voice calm. "Doesn't matter who I am. I said, let her go."
The man sized her up, clearly unimpressed, and lunged at her. But Maggie was ready. She sidestepped him, grabbing his wrist and twisting it sharply, just like Bruce had taught her. The man let out a yelp, dropping the purse. She delivered a swift kick to his knee, sending him stumbling back.
"You little—" he began, but Maggie didn't give him a chance to finish. She swept his legs out from under him, pinning him to the ground with a knee on his back.
The woman took the chance to grab her purse, murmuring a breathless "Thank you" before running off, her footsteps fading into the night. Maggie stayed focused on the man beneath her, holding him down until he stopped struggling.
"Stay out of trouble," she said, her voice cold. Then she released him, slipping back into the shadows before he could react.
The exhilaration of that night lingered with her as she returned to the manor, sneaking back in. She felt alive in a way she never had before, her mind buzzing with excitement. For the first time, she'd taken action, made a difference. She was no longer waiting for permission.
Over the next few weeks, Maggie continued her secret nightly excursions. She grew more confident, learning the rhythm of the streets, developing her own style of movement and her own approach. She started to feel like she truly belonged out there, like she was part of Gotham in a way she hadn't been before. But she was careful—never venturing too far into the city, never taking on anything she wasn't sure she could handle. She didn't want to get caught, didn't want to risk her father or Jason discovering her activities. She knew her father would be furious if he found out, and Jason… well, he'd probably be hurt that she hadn't confided in him.
One night, as she crouched on a rooftop overlooking a narrow alley, she overheard a couple of young men talking in low voices, exchanging money and small bags in a way that could only mean one thing. She tensed, debating whether or not to intervene. She wasn't naive—she knew how dangerous drug dealers could be. But the sight of them, the way they operated so brazenly, made her blood boil. Gotham didn't deserve this. Her city didn't deserve to be treated like a playground for criminals. Before she could decide, one of the men glanced up, catching sight of her.
"Hey, who's that?" he muttered, nodding toward the rooftop.
Maggie took a deep breath and stepped forward, making her presence known. "You're done here," she said, her voice steady.
The men exchanged glances, then laughed. "You lost, kid? Gotham's not safe for little girls out past curfew."
Maggie uses the grappling hook and comes down to the alley and lands in front of the two criminals.
"Crime fighters don't get curfews." Maggie said her tone firm and confident.
"Alright, you wanna play?" one of them sneered, cracking his knuckles. "This'll be fun."
One of the men lunged at her, his movements faster and more brutal than she'd expected. She dodged to the side, barely avoiding his swing, and countered with a swift jab to his side, just like she'd practiced with her father. But her punch didn't slow him down—he barely even flinched. The other man closed in behind her, grabbing her arm and twisting it painfully. She grit her teeth, refusing to cry out as she struggled against his grip, managing to break free with an elbow to his ribs. But the first man was already advancing again, his expression darkening as he reached for something in his jacket.
Maggie's heart skipped as she realized he was pulling out a knife. She tried to focus, to remember Bruce's training, but panic started to set in as the man swung the blade at her. She dodged clumsily, losing her balance in the process. Her foot slipped on the damp ground, and she fell, hitting the concrete hard. Pain shot through her shoulder, and she struggled to get back up, but the men were closing in, their shadows towering over her.
"Thought you could play hero, huh?" one of them taunted, his knife glinting in the dim light.
Maggie clenched her fists, trying to keep her breathing steady as she prepared to fight her way out, even if it meant taking a hit. But just as the man raised his knife again, a shadow dropped into the alley behind them with a soft thud.
"Now, that doesn't look fair," a familiar voice drawled from the darkness. "Two against one?"
The men spun around, and Maggie's heart leapt as she recognized the figure standing at the end of the alley, cloaked in black and red—Jason, in his Robin suit.
"Back off," Jason growled, stepping forward with a confidence that made the two men hesitate. "You don't want to mess with her. Or with me."
The men exchanged a wary glance, but one of them sneered, trying to save face. "What, you her backup or something?"
Jason didn't reply. Instead, he lunged forward with a speed and precision that left them no time to react. He disarmed the man with the knife in one fluid motion, twisting his arm until he dropped the weapon with a pained yelp. Before the other man could react, Jason delivered a powerful roundhouse kick, sending him sprawling against the alley wall. Maggie scrambled to her feet, watching as Jason dispatched the men with a practiced ease. Within seconds, they were both on the ground, groaning and clutching at their injuries as they ran away from them.
Jason turned to Maggie, his expression a mix of relief and frustration. "Are you out of your mind?" he demanded, his voice low but furious. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
Maggie's cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and defiance bubbling up. "I was handling it," she replied, trying to sound confident even as she rubbed her bruised shoulder.
Jason narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenched. "No, you weren't. You were seconds away from getting hurt. Or killed."
Maggie looked away, unable to meet his gaze. She'd wanted to prove she could handle herself, to show that she didn't need permission to be part of Gotham's fight.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Jason asked, his voice softer but still intense. "Did you really think you could do this alone?"
Maggie took a shaky breath, finally looking up at him. "I… I didn't want to wait anymore. I wanted to prove that I could help, that I didn't need my dad's approval."
Jason's expression softened slightly, but his frustration remained. "Mags, there's a reason Bruce hasn't let you out here yet. You're good, but there's a difference between training and facing criminals in the real world."
She crossed her arms, a hint of defiance returning. "You were out here. Why is it different for me?"
Before Jason could respond, a shadow detached itself from the darkness at the far end of the alley. A low, familiar voice cut through the silence, heavy with authority. "Because you're not ready."
Maggie's stomach dropped as Bruce stepped forward, his silhouette towering and imposing in the Bat-suit, the iconic cowl casting his expression in darkness. He moved with a steady, unyielding purpose, his cape trailing behind him as he approached.
Jason glanced between Maggie and Batman, his earlier frustration quickly turning to discomfort as he took a step back. Batman's gaze was fixed solely on Maggie, his face a mask of barely restrained anger.
" You're coming back with me." Batman said with stern authority.
Feeling both defiant and terrified, Maggie followed him the thrill of her nighttime escapades evaporating into a hollow sense of dread. She knew the conversation that was coming, and she knew it wasn't going to be easy.
Back at the manor, after she'd changed out of her makeshift costume, Bruce waited for her in the study. His expression was as serious as she'd ever seen it, a mix of disappointment, anger, and something deeper concern.
"What were you thinking?" he asked, his tone sharp. "Sneaking out, going into the city alone, putting yourself in danger without any backup or support. Do you have any idea how reckless that was?"
Maggie took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "I know it was dangerous. But I'm ready, Dad. I can handle myself."
Bruce's expression softened, but only slightly. "Maggie, this isn't a game. One wrong move, one mistake, and you could — There's a reason I haven't brought you out there yet."
She clenched her fists, frustration bubbling up. "But I want to help! I can't just sit around waiting forever, not when there are people out there who need someone to stand up for won't you just let me prove it?"
Bruce sighed; the weight of his own experiences clear in his eyes. "Because I don't want that life for you...Not yet. You may feel ready, but there are things you can't understand. The danger, the toll it takes on you—physically and mentally."
Maggie looked down, the fight draining from her as she absorbed his words. "I just… I just want to make a difference. Like you."
Bruce placed a hand on her shoulder, his gaze softening. "And you will in time. Right now, you need to learn patience, discipline. There's a reason I train you the way I do. When the time is right, I'll be the first to bring you with me. But you need to trust me."
Maggie nodded slowly, the realization settling in. She'd proven her abilities to herself, but she hadn't fully considered the risks or the impact of her actions on those who cared about her.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, looking up at him. "I just… I wanted to show you I could do it."
Bruce gave her a small, understanding smile. "I know. But you don't need to prove anything to me, Maggie. I already know what you're capable of. And when the time comes, I'll be there... Also, you are grounded for a month."
The heavy wooden door of Bruce's study closed behind Maggie with a soft click, leaving her alone in the dimly lit hallway. She exhaled, the tension from the lecture finally dissipating. She had known Bruce would be upset, but hearing the concern in his voice, the depth of his fear for her safety—it had given her pause.
As she made her way down the hall, Jason leaned casually against the wall near the staircase, arms crossed and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He straightened up when he saw her, the smirk widening. "So... how much trouble are you in?"
Maggie rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her own lips. "Oh, he's furious," she said, letting out a deep breath. "I'm grounded. For a month, at least. No going out, no extracurriculars, and absolutely no training outside the Batcave until further notice."
Jason whistled, raising his eyebrows. "Ouch. That's a serious grounding. I don't think even I got hit that hard when I first started sneaking out."
"Yeah, well, I guess I set a new record," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant. She paused, glancing up at Jason. "He was… really scared, Jay. I don't think I realized just how much he worries about all of us."
Jason's expression softened, and he nodded, leaning against the wall again. "He's been that way as long as I known him. The whole Bat thing—it's a risk he chose for himself. But when it comes to us, he knows what it costs, what it does to you." He hesitated, then added, "I used to think he was just being controlling. But now, I kind of of get it."
Maggie nodded. "I thought I was ready. I thought it would be like the training, like sparring sessions, but out there…" She shook her head.
Jason gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You'll get your shot."
She managed a small smile, grateful for his support. "Thanks, Jay. I… I should have told you. About everything. I just didn't want you to stop me."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Mags, you're stubborn as hell, and I get it. But next time, clue me in."