For once, the Wayne family had managed to get out all together. Bruce had insisted on a "normal" day—a word that usually made his children collectively squint in suspicion—but to everyone’s shock, it was happening. No capes, no comms, no crises. Just sunglasses, casual wear, and Alfred’s firm reminder to wear sunscreen.

They moved through the Gotham Zoo like a loose tide. Bruce—wearing aviators and the kind of calm usually reserved for crime-free weeks—walked near the front, hands in his pockets, while Alfred kept a dignified pace beside him, politely declining hot dogs from vendors. Dick and Jason were already in a mock debate about which animal was more them: lion or wolf. Cass and Steph had commandeered the map, arguing gleefully over the quickest route to the big cat exhibit. Tim looked half-asleep but content, headphones around his neck, sipping from a zoo-themed souvenir cup. Duke trailed behind, camera in hand, trying to catch candid shots of the family in rare form. Damian stalked alongside a penguin display, dramatically unimpressed.

Terry, meanwhile, was playing it cool—or trying to.

He’d only agreed to the outing after much bribery and the promise of churros, and for most of the day, he was fine. Laughing, even. Tossing popcorn at Damian to provoke a snarl. Sharing dumb animal facts with Tim. But then it happened.

Near the butterfly garden, just past the reptile house, Terry caught a glimpse of something—or rather, someone—that made him freeze.

It was her.

You stood a few paces away with a friend, your laugh brighter than the sun hitting the koi pond beside you. You looked radiant in the light, wearing a soft, weather-appropriate outfit that somehow made the chaotic zoo background blur around you like it was part of a painting. You hadn't noticed him yet, your attention focused on pointing out something in the enclosure.

Terry’s heart did that weird flip it only did when you were around. His stomach tightened, panic kicking in as his brain screamed one singular, cohesive thought:

Abort. Abort. You’re in a group with your entire family and she doesn’t know any of them are vigilantes. Look normal, McGinnis. Act like you weren’t raised in shadows and sarcasm.

“Why’d you stop?” Duke asked, noticing the sudden halt in Terry’s stride.

“Uh—uh, just, I…” Terry awkwardly adjusted his jacket, suddenly hyperaware of his too-casual T-shirt, his hair, his everything. “I think I dropped something?”

Cass, ever the bloodhound for lies, narrowed her eyes. Jason, on the other hand, followed his gaze—and grinned.

“Ooooooh.”

Terry shoved him with just enough force to say stop it without starting a sibling war. “Shut up.”

Bruce had turned around by now, watching the interaction with that subtle, unreadable curiosity he reserved for emotionally combustible situations. “Everything alright?”

“Yes. Yep. Totally. Everything’s great. The zoo is great. I love flamingos,” Terry replied a little too loudly, even though there were no flamingos in sight.

Tim raised an eyebrow. “You hate flamingos.”

“Do I?” Terry coughed. “I’ve grown as a person.”

Barbara smirked. “Okay, McGinnis. Who is she?”

That earned a round of wolfish looks from the older siblings and an outright laugh from Steph, who almost dropped her ice cream.

Terry groaned. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is when you look like someone just hit you with Cupid’s Batarang,” Dick said.

By now, a few heads in the group had turned discreetly toward you, tracking your movement. You still hadn’t noticed the gaggle of Waynes nearby, but the odds were shrinking fast.

“Do not dare say anything,” Terry hissed at Jason and Duke, who were clearly plotting something.

“Too late,” Steph sang.