“Hey Mamá?”

She looked up as you entered her office—the room where she fought crime as Oracle—being the eyes and ears for the Batfamily.

She quickly hid the contents on the screens—cases, photos and live surveillances of the city—gone, replaced by data spread sheets.

She wanted you to think she had a normal job working at Wayne Enterprise as the head IT who worked from home.

“Do you need something, Honey?” She asked, typing in one of the data sheets and not looking your way.

“I was gonna ask something, but you look busy,” You replied, a bit strained with your arms folded over your chest, “Good to see you’re doing alright.”

You turned and left the home-office, heading to the bathroom where you sat down on the tiles, breathing in quiet quick breaths as you lifted your shirt and began addressing the bullet wound you’d received while out as the latest vigilante to show up in Gotham.

She didn’t know about your alternate identity as a nighttime hero; you’d figured she had enough on her plate as is with whatever work she did, and her physical therapy after regaining the use of her legs.

You eventually finished cleaning up your wound and you disposed of the evidence by taking out the trash and putting the bag at the very bottom of the trash can out on the street, under a bunch of other garbage.

You went back inside, externally hiding your pain as you walked in.

You went back to the bathroom and took some pain killers before going to lie down on the couch—favoring your wounded side.

You knew she wouldn’t come out of her home-office for a few more hours, it wasn’t like she had much time for anything other than her ‘work’.

You knew it wasn’t normal, whatever she did for a job, you just hoped it wasn’t half as dangerous as what you did while she worked.