hanahaki-disease

[hanahaki-disease]

"people who stay up at night are either insomniac or In love" people who stay up at night read gay fanfiction on AO3 what are you on about?

[hanahaki-disease]

you can’t tell me DCeased Jondami weren’t married (which makes what happened to Damian all the more devastating)

[hanahaki-disease]

We Balance Fire in the Earth We Walk

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“And Jason knew what being Robin entailed when he was offered the position at the age of eleven. He thought that if he did that, then Percy would never have to. And yet, somehow, Percy managed to find a way.”

*****************************************

Jason hated that he couldn’t drown.

He hated that as he sat at the bottom of the pool, he could breathe just as good, if not better than he could above water. Hated that his hair and clothes were dry despite being on the floor. Hated how pretty the sunlight filtered in and the quiet of it all. Hated that since his sudden recollection of his memories almost two years ago, his mind has been silent.

There was no pit in the back of his head, whispering and stoking the flames of his ever present anger. No festering rage that sat right next to his heart in his chest or the faint neon green in the corners of his vision. It was all gone. Nulled by whatever magic the water had over him.

He looked up to the surface. The water distorting their image before whoever it was jumped in.

Just like him, Percy couldn’t drown nor wet his clothes. The orange of his shirt was brighter, neon and bright beneath the chlorine waves, as were his eyes. It was more of a bio-luminescent glow that the absurdly brightness of the shirt—the shirt that was written in Greek and that he could read.

“How you doing?” Percy asked, crossing his legs as he sunk to the pool floor like Jason.

Truthfully? He wasn’t doing so hot.

First, he learned that his little brother was at the center of a war that, if lost, the world would revert back to the stone age. The gods would die and the titan of time and his buddies would take over and there would be nothing they could do to stop it. Then, he learned that not only was his brother the son of Poseidon, but that Jason himself was one too. Which would make a lot of sense considering all that’s happened to him since he’s retained his memories. And, oh! Not to mention that high probability that his little brother might just die in the fight to save the world.

Yeah. Jason wasn’t doing that good.

His head was swimming (no pun intended) with all that Percy had done since his death and whatever the future hold for them as two sons of the sea god. Of memories from when they were kids that, now in retrospect, made perfect sense.

For example, Jason’s first birthday with Bruce, he had asked to go to the Gotham Aquarium. They had been seeing ads plastered on billboards and on the sides of the public buses in the months leading up to august and how they had ‘renovated the tanks to include more fish and aquatic life.’ The two of them had been so enthralled with every aspect of the aquarium. Running up to each and every exhibit, asking all kinds of questions, despite them inherently knowing the answer and correcting the guide.

The most damnest thing about that visit, and every visit after, was that all the sea life was just as fascinated with them as they had been. Schools of fish would swim to the window, manta rays huddling up to their side of the shallow pool, jelly fish bouncing against the glass of their enclosure. Each creature desperately trying to get their attention, but it makes sense now that he thinks about it. They were technically princes of the sea, so they were tying to impress them to get on their father’s good graces.

“I don’t understand, Perce,” Jason confessed. “Our dad, our real dad, is one of the Olympian gods? More specifically, Poseidon? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t, huh,” Percy said. “But that’s the truth. I didn’t believe it at first either, but, at least you already know who your parent was. I didn’t have that luxury.”

“Why’s that?”

Percy willed the water to move him next to Jason, the current gentle as it plopped him down on the ground. It was strange. Jason could see the flow of the water in front of him. The shape of it, the direction it was going—it was so convincingly tangible in his head that he almost forgot that it was water.

“When I first got to camp, I had no idea that Poseidon was our father,” he tugged the necklace out from beneath the collar of his shirt, “I was just one of the many undetermined children of the gods. They made me try everything to help figure out who I belonged to that when nothing worked, I was ready to accept the fact that I just would never know.”

“Never know? What do you mean?” Jason asked.

“Sometimes the gods forget their children and when they get to camp the kids don’t get claimed.” Percy took off the necklace. “I was one of the lucky ones who did, but if Poseidon hadn’t, I’d still be clueless. This first bead—” He separated it from the others, handing it over to Jason to look at. “Was from my first summer, when I got claimed. A hellhound nearly got me my first time playing capture the flag, but thankfully Chiron killed it before I got hurt. The camp figured out I could heal myself with water—which is a very neat trick—and from there a glowing trident appeared.”

He began to explain what each bead had meant. The quests in their entirety and the days of camp leading up to it and after. Each one sounding more fantastical than the last, as if Percy was the hero of his own book series. The people he’s meet, the monsters he’s fought—all of it sounded like something Jason would have loved to read back when he was a kid. But it wasn’t a story, this was real. His brother has the scars and the trauma to prove that this was something that Jason had to be careful with too. Another monster to watch his back against.

But with every monster Percy said he fought, Jason couldn’t seem to remember a time when he saw anything like that. He’s never seen a hellhound or a gorgon or a hydra. Never once seen a cyclops or a satyr or nymph.

“I think that’s because you’ve died, your scent is all jacked up or something, but there’s no way to confirm that,” Percy said. “Nico might know, or maybe Hades. But I think if he catches you in the underworld, he might not let you back out since you technically supposed to be dead.”

“Hm, yeah, I don’t wanna test that,” Jason chuckled and held up the sand dollar. “Where’d you get this?”

“Oh.” He wrapped his arms around his knees. “Father gave that to me for my birthday. Said I’d know when to use it before he left.”

“He���gave this to you?”

“Yeah, but I can tell you wanna ask if I talk to him often; No, I don’t.” Okay, so their father wasn’t playing favorites. He can’t tell if he’s happy about that.

“I’ve only interacted with him only three times. The first was after my first quest, the second was after the quest to save the goddess of the hunt. The gods tried to kill me because I was ‘getting too powerful,’ but father as well as the twin archers protested against it. Last time I saw him was the morning of my birthday, that’s when he gave me the sand dollar and told me that it’d know to use it, but I have no fuckin’ clue. Other than that, he stays in Atlantis and doesn’t really acknowledge me much.”

“If he’s a god, shouldn’t he be, I dunno, a better father?”

“You’d think, but not really. And that’s why Luke is going against the gods. He wants them to do better and to pay attention to their kids, but he’s too angry at them to try and make actual change. Kronos took advantage of his anger and now here we are.” Percy leaned his head back against the pool wall. “A war on the horizon and children training to be soldiers.”

Jason looked towards the other end of the pool, where the water was shallower and the light danced brighter in the lazy waves. He knew what they were getting into back when Bruce first took them in, when Batman decided to keep them as his sons. Jason knew at the age of ten that they were going to be more than just children, that they were going to be aware and conscious of the world in a way normal children aren’t.

Even if they had experience with that side of Gotham more intimately than they should have, growing up on the streets and homeless. Living in wooden crates and digging through trash for a meal. Listening from hushed whispers of gang members and goons about Batman and Robin.

And Jason knew what being Robin entailed when he was offered the position at the age of eleven. He knew that he was going to have to hurt people, bad people, mind you, but still hurt people nonetheless. He was going to be shot at, thrown about, punched, kicked, and tied up. Jason knew that’d he’d be going home with broken bones, sprained wrists, and cut up from the rogues.

He thought that if he did that, then Percy would never have to.

That maybe if he went out as Robin, helped Batman clean up the city, his little brother and every other kid wouldn’t have to worry about the rogues anymore. That they’d be able to play in the parks and streets without worry of Ivy taking control or Black Masks’ troopers speeding through. Percy wouldn’t have to take up a mask like him and Dick and Bruce, he’d be safe at home where the only way for him to get hurt was by his own actions.

And yet, somehow, Percy managed to find a way. He was out there, saving people—saving the world because his brother was too loyal. He didn’t have to go back to camp every year. Didn’t have to take up the responsibility of the prophecy and carry the weight of the world on his shoulders (literally in this case.) But he took the burden upon himself, wore every scar with pride and never took peace for granted, knowing what he does now about the prophecy that he’s never even read in its entirety.

“‘Cause I get where’s he’s coming from, sometimes I wish that father and the gods payed a little more attention to their kids,” Percy confessed. “But helping Kronos over throw them? That seems a little too much, a little over board.”

Jason chuckled dryly. He wanted to make a joke about that, how Percy himself went overboard when he tried to prove blue food existed. But his head just couldn’t seem to move past the fact that their father visited Percy on his birthday, that Percy knows what the man looks like and how he sounds. His brother told him that they look just like him, from the curls of their hair to the green of their eyes, but how was he supposed to believe it? How was he supposed to know if his brother was lying about it to him?

“You said father visited you on your birthday,” Percy looked at him, “why didn’t he—why hasn’t he visited me? Does he not like me or something?”

Percy opened his mouth and closed it, as if he didn’t know how to answer. “I-…” he started. “I asked father why he didn’t want to see you, he said…he said he felt guilty.” Guilty? Why would a god feel guilty? They were divine; mortal emotions and their concepts of right and wrong do not, and should not, apply to them since they were far more powerful and older than them.

“Why?”

“He couldn’t save you.”

Oh.

“He said that if he could, he would have. That he would have taken us to Atlantis or to camp where we would be safe, but since he broke his oath on the Styx, and because he’s a god who could not be punished, the consequences were for us to have a terrible fate.” Percy brought his knees up to his chest.

“So my death was because I was born?” He asked.

“Basically,” Percy said, “He couldn’t interfere, the ancient laws forbid him from interacting with us as long as we are mortal. But he said he was scared of how you’ll react if you were to see him, he didn’t know if you’d be mad or upset with him, which I’m not surprised if you are. I’m a little mad at him for making me the prophecy child, but, I dunno.”

There was a silence that fell over them. They sat against the wall of the pool, watching the small currents lazily move about the pool, the refractions of the sunlight against the surface of the water. Jason remembers doing the same thing back when he was in the league with Damian, spending hours in the spring, wondering how and why he could breathe underwater. Wondering why he could think clearly and why his clothes were also dry.

Now that he knows what he was and why, what does it mean now? Is he supposed to go with Percy to camp, help train the other demigods, join the war? If he does, would the prophecy shift from Percy to him? That won’t make sense if it did, Jason was older than sixteen, and when he was sixteen, the whole year was spent mostly catatonic at the league. But is he obligated to fight with Percy? Shock the Greek world by appearing to help out of nowhere, alert the other gods that Poseidon had not one, but two full-blooded demigod children?

“So what now?” Jason asked, his brother’s necklace still in his hand.

“I dunno, Jay,” Percy answered. “I dunno.”

*****************************************

Sorry for the late upload! I was traveling yesterday and was too tired to post when I got back to my home. I hope you liked Jason and Percy’s talk, I tried to get Jason’s thought process down correctly and I hope it doesn’t come out too OOC.

Thank you for reading!!

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[hanahaki-disease]

Paralyzed by My Own Will

Hell or High Water- Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“For a moment, for a heart aching second, it was just like that first night Bruce found them.

For a moment, Percy could believe that everything would be alright.

But it’s not alright, Percy has to tell him. His dad has to know.”

Please go read “To Stand by Idly” before you read this. You don’t have to, but it’s helpful.

*******************************************

It was quiet at the top of Wayne Tower. Cold, too.

The wind cut through the protective gear he wore, making the hair on his arms stand and shivers run up his back. Autumn was on the horizon. It showed itself in the breeze once the sun went down, in the slowly, but surely, browning leaves in the trees. It was in the clearer nights that made the stars shine brighter the closer it got to winter.

The bow and arrow charm on his necklace felt colder against his skin at the thought. He undid the clasp in the back, the gloves making it a little difficult, but he managed. Green eyes inspected each and every single one of the additions. He thumbed them through the glove, letting his mind wander. Three beads, he counted, one charm cold to the touch, a singular sand dollar, and the fate of the world will be decided exactly one year from today. Three hundred and sixty five days to prepare his mind and skills for the war of the century. The war he might not survive.

In eight months, Percy would be the same age Jason had died. In eight months, Percy would be older than Jason had been in his first life. In eight months, Percy would live to see April twenty-eighth at the age of fifteen. Something Jason never had the chance of doing, his life cut short the day before and that haunted him since.

Two days ago, Jason turned eighteen. The prophecy never once influencing his actions and it’s dreams had never plagued his mind, keeping him awake. He’s never had to worry about what Percy has to; of red eyes following him in the shadows, of ancient names cursing him and wishing for his downfall, of the survival of his friends and peers against a force they never thought they’d go against.

A part of him is jealous that Jason never had to be the prophecy child. He didn’t have to worry about the fall of Olympus or the rise of Kronos as the Titans took over. He was even sure that Jason never had to worry about monsters going after him. He cant remember Jason interacting with one or even mentioning it back when he had been alive. Because Percy can remember all the crazy that’s happened to him. The cyclops stalking him his first year in Brentwood academy, the shadow of a winged horse on a rooftop in the distance, even the uneasy feelings of being watched he would get before and after Bruce had taken them in. But, had Jason ever felt like that? Did he ever see it?

Maybe he hadn’t, after all the prophecy was clear to point out that it wouldn’t be him. Jason had never been a candidate to save the world, much like Thalia wasn’t since they both died before they even reached sixteen. And here he was, not even a day into fifteen and his future hanging in the balance.

There was also another part of him still that believed that he wouldn’t see the age of sixteen, like Jason had. That something would happen to him on the cusp of his birthday and he’d join the fallen campers and his mother in the underworld bellow. Maybe, if he joins them, by his own volition or by accident, either one works, he could finally get to know her. He could know what her voice sounds like and how she smiles. And they’d be dead yeah, but then he’d be able to know what her hugs felt like.

That was also something Percy envied his big brother for: he knew what their mom looked like. He had been old enough to develop memories and, while they not be totally accurate since he was six the last time he saw her, they were memories nonetheless. Jason knew what her voice sounded like, how her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and everything else Percy didn’t know.

He looked down at the street below him. Late night city-goers went about their activities; a girls night, a college party, a heist or robbery. It was pretty far. A good hundred stories maybe, a little under a hundred? He should probably know this, he’s been allowed inside the building for years and Bruce let him wander arou—

Percy’s heart tightened at the thought of his adoptive father, at the strained relationship they had now.

It wasn’t even that long ago that Percy was clinging to him like a koala all because Bruce was strong enough to hold him without trouble. Wasn’t that long ago that Bruce would tuck him into bed as he did every night before he went patrolling. When Bruce would rough house with him and Jason on the training mats all because he could, because he wanted to.

Percy can’t remember his mother’s laughter, but he knows Bruce’s. It was loud. It boomed and kicked up the pitch of his voice just a tad. His lips would curl back into a wide smile, the corners of his eyes would crinkle, and for a second the weight of Gotham would vanish off his shoulders. Percy remembers the rumble of his chest when he laughed. When Bruce would snatch him up with a hug, squeeze him tight till Percy—and Jason if he was fast enough to catch the teen—squealed with delight.

Gods, what he wouldn’t give for a hug from his dad right now.

With everything that’s happened, and everything that’s going to happen, Percy felt like he had no control of his own life anymore. He had no choice but to become the prophecy child since the other two died before it, he couldn’t give it to the younger two candidates since one of them is dead (his fault) and the other ran away (also his fault) and isn’t even twelve yet. He can’t help out with the vigilante part of his life since he himself isn’t one of them, and even then, he hasn’t really helped with any cases or investigations since his first summer at camp.

He’s helped Alfred patch them up, yes, but actively partake in the cases? He hasn’t done that in a while. Percy wouldn’t even know where to start. Not to mention whatever it was that Dick was doing in Blüdhaven or Jason down in Crime Alley. So it’s not like he could just pack a bag and help them. He doesn’t want them to be caught in the crossfire of a monster fight.

Percy hasn��t even told Jason he was a demigod yet! He has not even hinted at it once! He could’ve told Jason when they had talked a few weeks ago, but the thought completely slipped his mind in the jumbled mix of emotions because his brother was alive again. And once that jumbled mix had straightened itself again, once Jason had hugged him goodbye and headed back to Crime Alley to avoid Bruce, Percy had come to the realization that he also had to tell Bruce about him being a demigod too.

If he tells Bruce,then he has to tell Jason and Dick and Babs and Alfred as well. And of course Stephanie and Cassandra will have to know, too. Maybe Aunt Kate will want to be informed as well, same thing with Mr Fox and Luke, since they work on their weapons and gadgets. They’d need to know what Percy can use and what attracts monsters to most. Oh, and then Tim knows, wouldn’t he get in trouble with Bruce? Bruce would be upset that Tim knows what Percy, and subsequently Jason, is. He’d be upset that Tim knew before he did. He’d be mad at Percy for not telling him sooner, for keeping it a secret for this long. Bruce would take Robin away from Tim because of this wouldn’t he? Bruce would strip the one thing Tim had busted his ass for all because Percy trusted him before Bruce. Would Bruce be mad that Percy didn’t trust him with this? Would he—

Percy snapped up to a defense stance when he heard the shuffling of feet behind him. Fists raised to guard his head, body lowered and knees bent to attack if needed, and his chest heaving from his racing thoughts.

Though he lowered his hands and stood like normal, Percy didn’t let his guard down at the sight of Batman. His cape draped over him and hid his body, the lights of the city was enough to help Percy make out his chin and the whites of his cowl. He didn’t speak to Percy when he walked out of the shadows, nor did he acknowledge him when he made his way to the edge of the rooftop and sat himself down.

But then he pulled down his cowl, black hair lighting up in a reflection of the city from the sweat he builds up, turned his head to Percy, and patted the concrete next to him.

There was a struggle within him. The seven year old that loved his dad and the twelve year old who hated him. One side wanted to run up and join him, wrap himself up in the warmth of the cape, lean his head on his shoulder like he’s done before, and just be. But the other was urging him to turn his back to the man, slip into the shadows he had sprung from, forsake the affection being offered, and leave.

Gods, why was this so hard?! Why did he have to care about him so much! He shouldn’t! Percy shouldn’t care about whatever Bruce was going to talk to him about, shouldn’t care about the olive branch being offered! Percy should take a page out of Jason’s book. Become an anti-hero, terrorize the bad guys of Gotham, gain Bruce’s perpetual annoyance at his methods, and then the man would leave him alone. But, now that he thought about it does Bruce really leave Jason alone?

How many times has Percy seen Bruce’s tracker at the edge of the Narrows, the red dot stagnant for a good few minuets before moving back towards the rest of Gotham. No doubt he was talking to Jason, or just watching over him from a far, close enough to show concern but far enough to not seem over bearing. The invisible barrier Bruce was willing to stand up to but not cross, the one he’s willing to wait at forever long it takes.

Was this Percy’s line? The line he didn’t know he drew, the one Bruce was standing on the other side of. Like camp and the barrier, Bruce could see but never enter.

He glanced down at the sand dollar on his camp necklace, the only gift he’s ever received from his father for his birthday in all his fifteen years of life. The father who doomed him and his brother’s life from the start. Who didn’t care about him till he needed his name cleared and to do his bidding. When he first got claimed by Poseidon, he wondered if the absent god for a father would step up a little, he never did though. And like humans who worshiped them, the gods of Olympus were flawed as well.

They made mistakes, regrets. They wished and hoped, they—though rarely—admitted their wrongs. And here was a man who could go up against most minor gods and win. A man who knew this city like the back of his hand, who can defeat the justice league in a heartbeat, who could kill if he so wished but chose not to …And here he was, admitting his faults and his regrets to Percy.

“I…” Bruce began when Percy lowered himself onto he concrete, his necklace still in his hand and his domino in the other. If Bruce wanted to be unmasked for this, then Percy would return the same courtesy.

“After my parent’s death, I’d never thought I’d have children,” he said. “I didn’t want to put them in harms way or risk them loosing me the same way I lost my parents.”

“But then I had Dick,” Bruce smiled, “And he was angry and little and—I couldn’t not take him in when I knew how he felt. I knew that if I hadn’t taken him in, he’d be another rogue on the street or a Talon in the Court.” There was a lightness to him as he spoke of his eldest, recalling the memories of when their family of six had only been three. “At first he was just my ward, a child of the state I took in to make sure he didn’t go down the right path. Then he became my son and he’s been my son ever since.”

“Eight years ago when I found you and your brother,” Bruce looked out at the city. Percy could see the words swimming in his head, looking for the proper order to put them in. “I knew from the first moment that Jason was my son, no doubt about that.” Oh, ouch. Percy tried not to wince when his heart did the weird stab thing when he gets sad.

“But you, Percy?” He looked up at the sound of his name. Carefully, as if Bruce was trying to not spook a bird, he reached out his gauntlet and brushed back the long bangs Percy was too lazy to cut. “You are my baby, and I have loved you as if you were my son since you made me promise to never hurt you.”

Percy could feel his vision blur as tears began to well up. “And I broke that promise, many times, without even realizing I did because I was trying to keep you safe, and I am sorry.”

“Losing Jason was one of the worst days of my life, but to loose you? If I had lost you, Percy, I could never recover,” Bruce admitted. “I pushed you away because I thought that if I kept you close you would get hurt too. That something would rip you away from me and I’d be helpless to stop it.”

Guilt was beginning to build Percy’s stomach. There was something that could rip him away, though. Something that Percy has been fighting against for the past three years, in a war that would end a year from today. How was he supposed to tell Bruce about the monsters now? That every time he leaves the manor or camp, he’s hunted down and attacked almost twice a month all because of his father. All because he wasn’t supposed to exist.

He could feel the corners of his mouth twitching downwards, the tears he’s been trying to hold back had won the fight and rolled down his cheeks. And his lungs, that had finally returned to a normal breathing rhythm after his little attack earlier, began to sputter and refuse to work properly as he cried.

Bruce wrapped his arms around him, tugging the cape over Percy as he held him close. One hand held black fabric closed, entrapping the warmth inside and kept the cold out. The other cradled the back of his head, patting down the windswept hair.

For a moment, for a heart aching second, it was just like that first night Bruce found them. When he lifted Percy into his arms, guided Jason by his hand, and drove them to their new home. The days where Percy’s feet didn’t touch the ground when he got scared and the nightmares could be brushed away with a kiss on the forehead and a cup of cocoa.

For a moment, Percy could believe that everything would be alright.

But it’s not alright, Percy has to tell him. His dad has to know. Because what if he needs Batman’s help in the fight on the mortal front. To wrangle and help civilians, to keep rogues and villains away from the real fight. In case something were to go wrong and Percy would need his dad.

“Dad, I,” Percy leaned back from the hug, the cold of the oncoming autumn made his wet cheeks freeze. “I…There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Anything, son,” Bruce said.

“It’s—It’s about my father,” Percy looked down at the necklace, the sand dollar unassuming and innocent despite it’s origins and it’s intention. “Mine and Jason’s father, actually.”

*******************************************

So??? How we feeling?? Was it as angsty as I promised? Was not angsty enough??

This was a long time coming, I know, and I really hope you’re all satisfied while reading this. I had to rewrite their conversation a few times because it never really felt quite right, and I still think that it could be better or maybe Bruce could’ve said more, but, it is what it is.

And I hope it doesn’t make it look like Bruce is/was just making up an excuse for his past actions. Because keep in mind, since Percy came back to Gotham after TLT, Bruce has been and still is making up his past actions to Percy. And progress isn’t linear, people can and will make mistakes (*cough* Jason’s return *cough*)

But, I digress.

Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you all like it!!

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When tumblr lets me link stuff again, I’ll link everything

[hanahaki-disease]

Driven by a Holy Force

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“Percy took a deep breath. This was it. No going back now. He can’t manipulate the mist to change their minds, he can’t make them forget—this was the real deal.”

This is it!! The reveal!!

*********************************************

You: Come to the cave 2:26 am

You: Important meeting 2:26 am

Edge Lord: no 2:29 am

Edge Lord: why 2:29 am

You: it’s important 2:31 am

You: please 2:32 am

Edge Lord: fine 2:35 am

Percy slid his phone back into his pocket, hoping the signal didn’t alert any monsters nearby. He doubts they’d be able to find him though. At the speed they were going, as well as all the unnecessary turns and short cuts Bruce was making, he’d be surprised if any monster in general was able to follow. Hell hounds were fast, and their noses were just as good as a normal dog, but the overwhelming scent of mortal that encompassed Gotham helped hide Percy’s demigod scent well. It was one of the main reasons he didn’t get attacked so much, which he was so thankful for.

He told Bruce that he was going to tell him about his father, but he also was going to tell everyone everything because both his father and his life go hand in hand. Percy can’t tell Bruce about his father without telling him about the war, and he can’t tell him about the war without telling him about the prophecy. And because him and Jason have the same father, then he has to explain why Jason died. Everything had layers, it was all connected in a complicated mess that would be easier to explain all at once with everyone there.

Which means having Jason, Bruce, and Dick in the same room for a minimum of at least thirty minuets while he talks. Gods, he hopes no one starts shit.

“Who were you texting?” Bruce asks. They were on one of the back roads that led to one of the cave entrances, dark forest brush and canopies covering the road. How Bruce can see through it, even with his mega-bright headlights, Percy will never understand.

“Jason,” Percy answered, “If I’m going to talk about my father, Jason should be there too. And, I also asked for everyone else to be there too.”

“Why?” Bruce activated the entrance to open, revealing the tunnel that led to the cave.

He paused for a moment, watching the wall lights of the tunnel flash by before it opened into the cave proper. His domino was still in his hands, the glue that kept it secure was drying a cracking on his face and he wanted to scratch and peel it off. “I wanna tell you guys about some stuff other than my father, and I don’t wanna repeat myself five more times than I have to.”

Bruce nodded his head as he parked, their presence catching the attention of the others waiting for them. Stephanie and Tim had just returned from their own patrols, it seemed. All their gear was still attached to them, and they were still wearing their uniforms as well. Their hair a mess of knots and frizz from the wind, various bruises and scraps littered Tim’s arms and Steph was limping as she hobbled to the dressing rooms to change.

Cassandra and Dick were pouring over a case at the meeting table. There were a couple folders open, the documents inside spread out along one end of the surface while a cardboard box filled with other folders took residence on a nearby chair. Both of them wore comfortable civvies, sweatpants and t-shirts (with a ‘borrowed’ hoodie Cass ‘acquired’ from Percy’s closet,) and their dominoes to hide their identities. Because even though they weren’t scheduled for patrol, they still had to follow the ‘masks while in the cave’ rule. (But Percy and Alfred did not follow it since they didn’t leave the property anyways.)

“Woah, where did you go dressed like that?” Dick had done a double take when they pulled up, catching the other’s attention. They all had various levels of surprise, save for Alfred, at the sight of Percy in an all-black version of Tim’s Robin suit. To them, the idea of Percy being like them was a far-fetched and impossible thought. He had always been adamant about not joining them and preferring to stay in the cave, deciding to being Alfred’s assistant when patching them up.

“Needed some fresh air,” he said, taking one of the seats at the table.

Tim slid into one of the chairs beside him, mask removed and cape-less, and in a hushed voice, he asked “Are you?” Percy nodded. “You sure? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“I have to, Tim,” Percy said. “You know what’s coming and I can’t leave in the dark if something happens.”

“Is Jason…?”

“I asked him to come, and it sounded like he was, but everyone’s here,” Percy sighed, “So, I dunno. I hope he does, I don’t wanna repeat myself more than I have to.”

Tim nodded his head, undoing the bracers on his arms. “Okay, well, if you need me to tap in, I can, alright? Imma go change before you start.”

Percy twirled his pen in his hand as he waited for everyone to get situated. For them to shed the armor they wore and to give Jason a chance to arrive before he began. But Percy knows that his brother would rather stay as far away from Bruce as he could, their estranged relationship already on thin ice for reasons Percy didn’t want to know. He probably should know, but he decided to keep Bruce and his brother’s problems to themselves.

Slowly, the others began to fall in, sitting themselves into their unassigned assigned seats. Bruce at the head of the table with Dick and Cassandra on either side of him. Stephanie sat next to Cass, her leg propped up on the empty chair with an ice pack resting on her ankle. Percy was sitting at the opposite head with Tim next to him on his right, watching as Percy twirled riptide in his hands.

Percy took a deep breath. This was it. No going back now. He can’t manipulate the mist to change their minds, he can’t make them forget—this was the real deal.

The flash of a headlight against the cave wall caught their attention before the roar of the motor hit their ears. It startled the bats above them and Percy swore the ground rumbled as well, but maybe he did that by accident. He’s done that before at camp, in the restrooms and in the big house kitchen.

The group all seemed to tense at Jason’s arrival, his recent switch to anti-heroism instead of drug lord did little to calm the other’s nerves. They were glad that Jason was more amenable to working with them after he and Bruce warred it out for a bit. He lingered at the edges of his part of town and didn’t turn the others away immediately, so that was a step in the right direction. Though his status as a crime lord didn’t really bother Dick, Cass, or Percy. They still waltzed into that side of town like they owned it alongside the second Wayne son.

Jason did not want to be here but will endure for Percy.

Heavy boots marched up to the table and a loud scrape of the chair closest to Percy rang in the cave. It seemed like he, too, had just gotten off of his own patrol. He tossed his helmet on the table, echoing in the silence that had fallen on them when Jason arrived. But Jason didn’t pay any attention to Bruce or Dick, their stares boring hole into his back as Jason made his chair face Percy. “Alright. I’m here, what was so important that I had to abandon my after-patrol tacos?”

Percy sat straighter in his chair. “Okay, okay,” he ran his hand over his face, pushing back his fringe, “Okay, so, you know the stories and legends of the Greek gods, right? The deities the ancient Greeks worshiped to explain natural phenomenon and all that. And…you know how the gods in the stories came down to earth and had kids? Heracles, Achilles, Theseus. Well, the gods are real. They are real and they’re still having kids, they’ve never stopped, not really, and I…”

Percy looked at Jason. At his older brother whose mother was the same as his, whose father sired two powerful children.

“My biological father—Jason and I’s biological father—is Poseidon, god of the sea.” They sat there quiet, uncomfortably so, staring at Percy as if he was spewing nonsense. But Percy could tell that Cass believed him. She could tell by the heaviness on his shoulders as he spoke, the tiredness that rolled off him in small waves. Percy also knows that Jason knows he wasn’t lying, some kind of inherit knowledge and acceptance that he was also the son of a god. “And every summer, with the exception of this past Christmas, I have been going to a camp that is designed for demigods to train and learn how to survive.”

“When I was twelve, I didn’t get kidnapped—” This caught Bruce and Dick’s attention. “I had become a fugitive of the state because I was given a quest to find and retrieve the king of the gods’ missing lightning bolt to prevent a war between him and my father. I left the summer after that because I had to find the Golden fleece to save the magic border that was keeping the camp safe after it had been poisoned.

“Last Christmas, I had to rescue two demigods and find the goddess of the hunt who had gone missing while also putting Atlas back in his prison,” Percy kept going, waiting for their reaction when he finished. “This past summer, the summer that Jason came back, I was on a quest with one of my best friends in the Labyrinth to stop Kronos’s forces and to find the lost god of the wild.”

“Percy, wha—” Dick tried but there was no stopping Percy now that he started.

“And, should I have told you all this years ago? Yes, I probably should have considering how close I’ve gotten to dying in the past three years, but,” that left the room feeling heavier than it should, “Next year—on my sixteenth birthday, there is a prophecy that a child of the eldest gods will be the deciding factor of whether Olympus will survive the war against Kronos. I-…I am the prophecy child, and there is a chance that I might…not survive.”

Percy’s voice was near a whisper towards the end, a little shaky as wobbly as he spoke to keep the tears at bay. He doesn’t know why he was acting like this. Percy had come to terms with the fact that he was the child of the prophecy almost a year ago on Olympus when Thalia swore herself to the hunt. He knew that it was up to him, that he would be the one to lead the camp, assemble their meager forces, and train child soldiers against a titan in a year.

He accepted his fate, so why was he close to tears telling his family?

“The fuck to you mean ‘might not survive?’ What do you mean that our father is Poseidon?” Jason was the first to speak, leaning forwards on to the table. “You can’t be serious.”

“You asked me where I had gotten my white streak from, remember? And I told you it was ‘a long story?’” Percy looked at his brother. “I held up the sky for twenty minutes, I kept the sky from falling onto earth and destroying it, and it was the heaviest thing in the entire world. Stephanie once asked where I gotten this scar on my thumb was, I had gotten stung by a scorpion from the pits for Tartarus, whose venom can kill in sixty seconds. This scar on my stomach is from I fought the minotaur on my way to camp for the first time, I have one on my leg from where I got stung by the Chimera. This one if from a pack of hell hounds, this is from some empusai last summer—”

Percy lifted his shirt, exposing the burn scars that ran across his back and his left arm. It was nasty looking, but healed without any lasting damage. Though sometimes in the summer when the days are scorching hot, it felt like his back was on fire once again. Burning from the incomprehensively hot steam that erupted from the volcano. “This is from when St Helens blew up—when I blew up St Helens. If I was lying, Jason,” he looked at his brother a little coldly, offended that he was making this all up when he was marred by the ‘glory’ he had earned. “Then why do I have the scars to prove it.”

“Percy,” Bruce called his name. “What war?”

He sat down in his chair again, “For the past few years, the titan lord Kronos has been rising. He’s growing an army of monsters, minor gods, and other demigods to overthrow Olympus and set everything back to the stone age.”

“Why haven’t we heard anything about this?” Dick asked him. “Why haven’t you told us about this sooner, we could’ve helped.”

“We can’t help,” Tim answered. “Trust me, I’ve tried, but we can’t. We aren’t like Percy or Jason, we can’t see past the mist, we can’t enter camp, were just mortals.”

“You knew! How long have you known?” Stephanie pointed at Tim, who nodded unapologetically, “I’ve known for a year, since Percy came back last Christmas. But I’ve tried everything to see past the mist but I can’t.”

“Mist? What mist?” Cassandra looked to him.

Percy popped open riptide, the bronze sword expanding and folding over itself till it reached it’s full size. He saw Jason’s eyes widen at the sight. Standing in alarm when the Riptides’ point nearly poked him. What the fuck, he mouthed. “The mist is the magical veil that hides and protects the mortals from the mythological mess that is my life. To you, and Tim can confirm, this looks like a bat. A classic, wooden baseball bat—”

“What fuckin’ bat? That’s a goddamn sword!” Jason exclaimed. “Wait, you can’t see it? What the fuck, why can I see it?”

“Because you’re also a son of Poseidon, you’re a demigod like me,” Percy said.

“So why didn’t I go to that camp if I was like you? Why didn’t I train to fight monsters ‘n shit?”

“You weren’t meant to.”

Whatever Jason was feeling stopped, his whole body stopped, as if Percy had just pushed pause on the remote. “What?”

“The fates made it so you didn’t go, it-…your, y’know, was the price father paid.” Percy said, his head resting on his wrist as he said it. Tears once again welling up in his eyes. “Me getting the prophecy was the price father paid for breaking the oath, twice. We aren’t supposed to exist and this is the consequence.”

When Percy looked at Jason again, all the color drained from his face. His words a revelation that shook Jason’s whole worldview to its core. Eyes blown wide, hands in his hair pulling at the roots, as whatever thoughts he was having took over. “Jay,” Someone called but Percy was more worried at the sight of his brother, crumbling apart after realizing not only was his death was intentional but the gods themselves made it happen.

He stumbled backwards, his balance swaying for a second before Jason made eye contact with Percy. And there was a kind of betrayal that Percy could see in his brother’s eyes, the kind that ran hand-in-hand with jealousy. Percy remembers seeing it on the faces of other kids in camp when they learn that Percy has had more contact with their parent than they did, when the gods chose him over their own children.

Jason stumbled his way towards him back, ignoring the concerned calls from Dick and Cassandra. And in a few seconds Jason was speeding away, his helmet still facing Percy on the table.

He wanted to chase after Jason, to tell him everything their father told him this morning. That Poseidon does care for him, that he wanted to step in and save him. But Percy knows that telling him would only make it worse, that telling him that not only does Percy know who they were and who their father was, but that said father preferred Percy over him. That Percy was the child he was willing to speak with (even though that was far from the truth.)

“How do we stop Kronos?” Bruce finally asked, pulling off the cowl, and Percy could see the restrain that kept him rooted to his seat. Bruce wanted to go after Jason too, but he couldn’t, he had to focus on one thing at a time. Batman can multitask and can do many things all at once. But he wasn’t Batman right now. His words might’ve been the bat’s, but the unmasked, worried and pained look he held was his dad’s. It that of a father worried about sending his son, potentially sons head first into a war. One he didn’t even know existed till it might’ve been too late.

“If I knew how, I would tell you, but you guys can’t be a part of this.” Percy tore his eyes away from Jason’s retreating form. “I have already explained this to Tim, but this is a war you can’t fight. The monsters that are a part of that army, as well as the weapons and places they reside, are hidden from mortal minds.”

“So what, we just sit on the sidelines while you go and become a martyr? I’m not letting you do that, Percy,” Dick said.

“You can’t—help—Dick, none of you can, point blank. That’s final.” Percy spoke with a finality of a general. “I’m not telling you guys this to make you feel helpless or to give me pity or any dumb bullshit like that, I’m telling you so that if something happens next year, you won’t be caught off guard. So that if the news around New York is all fucked up, or if aunt Diana disappears for a bit, you’ll know why.”

“Diana knows?” Stephanie asked.

“She’s a daughter of Zeus, technically my cousin,” Percy says. “But the point is: I didn’t want to hide this from you guys anymore. I wanted to keep you guys out of this for as long as I could because monsters follow me everywhere, I’m not safe anywhere but camp, and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you guys got hurt because of something from my world.”

“We can defend ourselves, we’re not helpless,” Cassandra protested.

“I know that, but you don’t—you can’t even comprehend all that I’m going up against.” He capped Riptide and in a blink it was back into a pen. “Just, please, trust me. I know what I’m doing and I don’t want you guys in anymore of a risk than you already are, but—” Percy looked at Bruce. “If I need help, be that mortal evac or medics for the wounded or even for collateral clean up, would you come?”

“Of course,” Dick answered for Bruce who seemed to be staring a hole into the table in front of him.

Alfred (where had he been this whole time?) cleared his throat and handed Stephanie a pair of crutches, who grumbled and groaned as she stood up from the chair. “I believe that is all we’ll be able to handle for today as it is getting late, even for you all. Now, all of you, upstairs, time to rest and we’ll further discuss this in the morning.”

One by one they left the cave, Tim hesitant to leave Percy’s side, especially after revealing everything, but Alfred’s pointed stare from the elevators made his feet move of their own accord. By the time the commotion died down again, only Percy and Bruce were left at the table. They faced each other, but neither’s gaze meet the other and neither of them spoke for a bit. He had hands clasped together and help up to his mouth. He did that when he was deep in thought, when he was trying to plan a head to keep them all safe.

Percy knows about the contingencies he was in place for the Justice League and all its members. Knows how to take them down and has access to the lead vault that held their collection of kryptonite for when Superman decided to try and become God. There were even plans on how to take each member of their family down, what steps that needed to be followed and who to get to help. And Percy knows he wasn’t special, he wasn’t excluded from those plans either, but he knows that they were made with the mental image of a regular human Percy. Of the kid who didn’t have powers and only bat-level training.

Now he was a threat, or, an even bigger one than before. Percy had the blood of a god running through his veins and that meant that he was far stronger that most of his family. He could blow up a mountain, summon hurricanes, move the earth. Percy could lift the cave water and manipulate it to his will whenever he wanted. He was a threat level Bruce had never encountered before and now…now he was scared to know how far he’d go to subdue Percy.

He glanced up when Bruce stood from his chair. It was hard to decipher what it was Bruce was thinking, the furrowed eyebrows and hardened stare was that same one he wore all the time. And while Percy was pretty good in understanding the man’s various looks and grunts, he didn’t know how to react when Bruce sat down in the chair Jason had once been in.

“I won’t lie,” Bruce said. “I do not like you leading a war, nor do I like that you kept a threat like this a secret for this long.” Percy deflated under his words. “And I understand that this was not your choice and you have to do whatever you need to do to stop them, but I need to know why it chose you of all the other demigods? Were there no one else this could have been given to?”

Percy shook his head. “At the same time a prophecy was given, the big three swore an oath on the Styx to not have any more kids. Mostly because of how powerful they were, it was why World War 2 happened after all.” He fidgeted with his fingers. “But Zeus and Poseidon didn’t keep to their promise, and because the Styx can’t punish gods, their kids took the penalty.”

Bruce had an arm resting on the table, his hand covering his mouth as he absorbed the information. “Jason was the first, and the oath influenced the events that took his life. Thalia was after him, a daughter of Zeus, and she died right before she entered the camp to save one of my friends and my enemy, but we didn’t know that he’d betray us all at the time.”

“So then by default, you were tasked with the prophecy?” Percy nodded.

“There are two other children of the big three,” He said. “Both children of Hades, but the older of the two died on a quest last Christmas and the other is barely eleven. I don’t want this to fall on him, he’s too little and he’s already been through so much.”

“I can’t lose you, son” Bruce stood and pulled Percy up to stand before him. “I’ve already lost your brother and I am grateful he was able to make it back home, despite all the hiccups that happened to get him here.”

He hadn’t noticed how tall he was in comparison to Bruce now, his dad always seemed to tower over him like used to when he was a kid, but there wasn’t much of a difference between them. A few inches separated them from seeing eye to eye and Percy didn’t want the day to come where they were the same height to come. He still wanted to be able to bury his face into his dad’s chest when he hugged him, he be able to be picked up and carried like a child, to be told that everything was going to be okay.

And while now, Percy could rest his chin on Bruce’s shoulders when they hugged, the arms around him were still warm and strong like they always had been. “Just…be careful,” Bruce held him tight.

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise that.”

“I know,” he said, brushing down the hairs at the back of his head. “Of all people, I know.”

*********************************************

I had to write this, like, twice because the first draft didn’t fit right in the flow of the story anymore.

The only qualm I have with this is Percy’s rant about his injuries, idk it both does and doesn’t feel like something he would do. Like he’d do it to prove that what he’s gone through exists but he hates talking about himself 🤷‍♀️

Hope you liked it!!!

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[hanahaki-disease]

Beyond the Farthest Reaches

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

To Stand by Idly

There is always a reason why things are the way they are.

Set the morning of “Paralyzed by My Own Will”

*************************************

Early morning in the aquarium was Percy favorite time to go. There were no crowds, no screaming children, or pissed off parents. The animals were all super chill and waking up alongside the mortals that took care of them. Some, like the octopi and the tiger fish, were awake already. Swimming about in their tanks and coming as close as they dare to the glass to see him. And like every year before, the fishes and aquatic sea life wished him a ‘happy birthday,’ performed a small display of gratitude before going about their day.

He’s been coming to the aquarium for his birthday every year since he found out about being a demigod. Spending the quiet morning alone with his father’s subjects, the only clean saltwater around Gotham for miles, and letting the world fall away for just a moment. Just a short moment.

Because sitting alone in the middle of the walkway, the glass that separated him from the water bending above him, with the lights dotted along the bottom, Percy could believe he was sitting in his spot beneath the waves at camp. His little reef shelf that was far out enough to not be spotted by camp, but not so far out that it was alert any sea monsters or his father. (Though the moment he steps into the water his father knows, he’s just glad he doesn’t visit him while he’s there.)

Percy can pretend he was sitting amidst the tall sea grass and seaweed, the bits of coral and barnacle that were too stubborn to travel farther south where it was warmer. If he were to lay back on the bench he was on, watching the invisible man-made currents above him, looking at the soft blue, purple, and green lights that made the tank seem other worldly, he could believe he was watching the sun dance across the waves above. Bending and refracting in ways Percy could never replicate himself.

He wondered if he was like that—like the sun against the sea. Folding over its self, contorting it’s rays against the harsh and unforgiving water. Trying desperately to stay together in one piece, only for the currents to change it against its will. Becoming something new and different to accommodate others.

He took a breath and the scent of salt and abalone washed over him. Beside him, Poseidon sat on the metal bench, eyes watching the sea life before him swarm and flock to the glass. The Hawaiian shirt he wore today wasn’t as loud, and the shaggy sailor look he usually had was trimmed and a bit more proper. But the god still had the same crows feet in the corners of his eyes, the smile lines on the sides of his mouth, and the sunspots and freckles both his sons inherited.

“Father,” Percy said carefully. He was always a bit confused on how he should feel towards the god. On one hand, he was his father. His ichor flowed through his veins and gave him powers and life he has. But, he gave him this life. One full of pain and sorrow, lost friends and family, cursed the moment he drew first breath. What was the meaning of all his magical strengths if he could not use it to save the ones he loves most?

The god didn’t say anything at first, simply pulled a little gift out of his many pockets and handed it over. It was a sand dollar. White and a little lopsided, and a hole where he could string it along his camp necklace. “I wanted to give you this for your birthday.”

“Thank you,” he said, “But why?”

“You will need it next year. It is better to be overly prepared than not at all,” Poseidon answered. Percy understood that. After living with Bruce for years, it was drilled in him to make sure he was prepared for anything and everything that could go wrong. But why then was his father here? Now? After everything that’s happened in the past few years, why did he choose to wait until the morning of Percy’s birthday to visit?

Seeing him when he was twelve was different, as was last Christmas break when they went to stop Atlas and find Artemis and Annabeth. He had gone to Olympus because it was part of the quest, he had seen his father there because he was on the council, but not once has Percy seen him just to see him.

Poseidon shifted his gaze from the school of fish to him. “You have something on your mind, what is it?”

“Jason’s birthday was two days ago.” He saw his father’s eyes closed as if the reminder hurt him. “Why don’t you see him? Why just me?”

“If I could go see him, Percy, I would. If I could see you more than I do now, I would, but the fates and the ancient laws forbid it,” The god straightened his posture. “If I could have saved your brother from his death, whisked him and you away to camp or to Atlantis with me, we would not be here having this conversation.”

“Why didn’t you save Jason?”

“You understand that we gods cannot be punished by the Styx for breaking the oath, correct?” Percy nodded. “Well, Styx still wanted me to understand the severity of it, to inflict whatever kind of punishment she could place against me, and that was to see my son die. To see you bear the fate of the world, to threaten you with the prophecy.”

“When he returned, I was…lost, which is difficult for a god to become,” He said. “I was elated that he was alive again, what father wouldn’t be? And it didn’t matter to me what he had done, what he is doing now, I care not for that. But I was worried that Hades would come and take him back, that he would be enraged at me for not saving me, for putting you in danger every summer.

“I was terrified of the guilt I would feel by seeing Jason in person.”

Percy stayed quiet. He felt like he was caught in the crossfire between his brother and father. The messenger between them like Hermes. He wanted to yell and get mad at his father for not visiting or helping Jason, helping him. But he knows that when it comes to them, their father is just as helpless as they are. He is forced to watch and rarely intervene, sitting upon his throne with his hand tied, as him and Jason and all his other children are put under duress.

“If I tell Jason who he is,” Percy began, “Will he get attacked? Would he…?”

“No.” Poseidon answered. “The waters that revived him made it so that he is both apart but separated from our world. He is still my son, the sea in still within him, but his scent has disappeared. He no longer attracts monsters.” He looked at Percy again. “And that means he is, and has never been, the child of the prophecy. The Moirai destined your brother for this fate, and have placed this fate upon you.”

“So if I tell him, tell them all, nothing would change?”

“It will be as it should.” Poseidon faced Percy. His father’s hand was warm on his cheek, calloused from centuries wielding his trident, but soft as he ran his thumb over his cheekbone. “Happy birthday, Perseus. And remember, I am proud to call you and your brother, my son. Never forget that.”

In a blink, his father was gone. Lingering in the air was the salt and abalone and in his hands was the birthday present he gave him.

*************************************

They talked!!!

Did you like it? I hope you did. Oh, and you might want to brace yourself for the next upload on Saturday. Quite a bit of light angst/MAJOR comfort between Percy and Bruce

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(If I could link these, I would but tumblr is being a bitch about links. If anyone has a solution, let. Me. Know!!)

[hanahaki-disease]

Beyond the Farthest Reaches

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

“Power Up Unlocked!”

Opportunities always arrive at the most inconvenient time. Annoying, isn’t it?

Set shortly before “Eternity will bring You near”

Note: I figured you all needed something lighthearted, so here’s Nico

************************************

“Woah.” Percy’s head snapped to the voice behind him, eyes wide and panicked. It wasn’t that he didn’t know who they were, no, but it was that that voice shouldn’t be heard here.

“Nico?” He looked the batcomputer and nearly sprinted to the son of Hades trying to face him away from the cave. “What are you doing here? How did you find here?!”

“Where is here? This place is so cool!” Nico slipped out of his grasp, stumbled at little because he had just shadowed traveled, before running amok in the cave. It made Percy’s heart squeeze watching him gasp in awe and question everything, bringing back the memories of a younger version of him. He wondered if Nico would have stayed that awe-struck and wide-eyed had Bianca survived?

He might’ve become a little bitter towards the hunters, his sister especially, but Percy knows he would’ve followed him like a puppy ever since. He most likely would have wanted to go with Percy at the end of the summers, follow him all the way to Gotham. And knowing Bruce, he would’ve taken Nico in, since he can’t help himself when it comes to an orphan in need. He would be confused and concerned why he doesn’t legally exist, but Bruce has recourses to change that.

“Nico! Get down from the dinosaur!” Percy climbed up to the trophy area, hands on his hips like an angered parent. A part of him wondered if this was how Bruce sounded when he first brought Dick into the cave. Did they have the dinosaur at that time? Because it was here when Jason and Percy got here, so maybe it was brought in while Dick was still Robin.

Carefully, Nico slid down the spine of the statue, eyes still taking everything in. But Percy was quick to grab his attention, “Why are you here?”

“Huh? Oh, right,” Nico snapped back into the broody, more serious persona he adopted this past year. “I know how you can go against Kronos without dying.”

“What? How?” Percy said. “No, no, y’know what. We’re takin’ this conversation upstairs.”

“Upstairs? There’s an upstairs?” Nico followed him out the cave, and once again, just like last year, his mouth never stopped asking questions. Thought this time, it was aimed more towards Percy himself and not at the demigod world in general. “Where are we, Percy? Who exactly are you? You’ve told the whole camp that you live in New York with your mom, that you didn’t have anyone else, that—”

“Ah, Master Percy.” He felt Nico bump into his back at the sudden stop. “I wasn’t aware you were having a guest over. This late at night as well.”

“Sorry, Alfred,” he said. “It was a…surprise visit.” Nico’s cheeks dusted with pink at the call out and under Percy’s stare.

“I see.” Percy couldn’t stay mad at Nico, and he was entitled to the questions he has about him. Afterall, he has been lying to nearly the whole camp, except for Annabeth, for years. And Annabeth didn’t even know about the other side to his life. “Well, I shall prepare some tea while the two of you converse. The sitting room is free, and I expect you be sharing whatever information the young lad has with Master Bruce.”

“Yes, I will,” Percy said. “And thank you.”

They stood in the hall for a few seconds longer, watching Alfred disappear down the stairs. Nico tuned to him, “Who was that?”

“My butler.”

“You have a butler?!”

************************

11-year old Nico, though emo and edgy, would still absolutely love the batcave

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[hanahaki-disease]

Will Never Stop Me Reaching Forth (to see you again)

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“And it felt like forgiveness. Like maybe perhaps Percy could forgive him for what he’s done to Tim, for what he’s done to Gotham, to all those poor souls he’s reaped—for what he’s done to him.”

*******************************************

“Time has not been kind to you has it, my dear?” Jason sucked in a staggered breath as he looked up to the man he considered his grandfather.

He didn’t think going back to the manor was going to be this hard. He hasn’t even actually stepped into the building itself, and here he is, tearing up at the sight of Alfred on the front steps.

The butler hasn’t changed much since the last time he saw him. His hair had more gray and a few more wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, but his suit was still pressed perfectly and his mustache trimmed to perfection. Pristine white gloves at his side, clean of any dirt or dust from his meticulous cleaning, and a smile in his eyes as he looked at Jason.

“Hi, Alfie.” If Jason didn’t know the man as well as he does, he wouldn’t have been able to see the way Alfred’s eyes glossed over or the way the man desperately wanted to reach out and give his grandson a hug. But Jason couldn’t help himself, he wanted to be a little selfish in this short visit to see his brother and engulfed the butler in a tight embrace.

God, it felt great to know that not everyone had given up on him.

When the butler pulled away, he led Jason into the foyer. “My, you have grown since I last saw you, dear boy.” Alfred said. “But I can’t imagine you’re hear to simply catch up with me after all these years, have you?”

Jason shook his head. “I need to talk to Percy. I…I hurt him, Alfred.” His hands were suddenly very interesting. “I don’t know what came over me or why I did it, but I need to see him, even if he doesn’t want to see me.”

“You brother was devastated after your death, master Jason,” Alfred let his shoulders drop. “He was inconsolable for weeks and blamed Master Bruce just as you have, but make no mistake, the boy will always want you near. You are his elder brother, he has and continues to look up to you and the legacy you’ve made. Even if you don’t believe he should.”

There was a lump that had gotten stuck in his throat at the words. Percy…blamed Bruce for his death? The words didn’t make sense at first, feeling like a lie than the truth, but the way Alfred looked couldn’t refute the statement.

Since their arrival at the manor, Percy has had Bruce wrapped around his finger. Jason knew Bruce loved them all equally, yes, even Dick when he was broody and combative towards the guy. But there was a different kind of attentiveness and adoration Bruce had for the youngest of them. Bruce never hesitated when Percy wanted affection, never shied away from holding his hand or granting a hug. He made sure there was time to help Percy and Jason with their homework and that they always had the ocean themed band-aids in the first aid kits.

Before he died, Jason could count on Bruce. Jason had considered him his dad by default because he never knew his biological father and Willis wasn’t always the best when he was around, but that doesn’t mean the Jason trusted him immediately. It took him a while to let down his walls and actually let himself be cared for. Percy, though, he clung to Bruce as if he was their real dad. As if Wayne blood ran through their veins and they had always been part of the family—Bruce made it seem like it though.

So to hear that Percy was so distraught with Bruce to blame him (even if he was only slightly correct) just didn’t sit right with Jason.

“Where is he?” Jason asked, not wanting to stall long enough to let regret settle in his mind.

“He often spends his days in the library when he is not at school or where ever he disappears off too in the summers,” Alfred answered.

“What do you mean by that? Where does he go?”

“If I had the answer, master Jason, I would have told you,” the butler sighed. “But the boy refuses to tell us where he goes and I cannot help but grow more and more concerned every time he leaves.” Jason furrowed his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side. “He’s left four times in the past three years, and each time he returns, scars and injuries he’s never had before appear on him. Sadness has taken hold of him, and yet he refuses to acknowledge or reveal the cause.”

“I am afraid he’s developed that habit from master Bruce,” Alfred said. “Perhaps he will tell you, and we can put and end to whatever it is that plagues him.”

“That’s if he wants to tell me,” Jason ran a hand though his hair. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he says he hates me after I see him, but I’ll try.”

“That is all I ask, master Jason.” With that, Alfred turned to leave towards the sitting room down the hall. Hands clasped behind his back and a solemn air around him as he walked, leaving Jason even more confused and guilt-ridden than before.

What had Alfred meant when he said that? Why has Percy been leaving, and by ‘leaving’ does he mean the manor or Gotham entirely? Because if it’s the latter then there must be another reason besides teenage rebellion. Jason knows that Percy was a smart kid, he wouldn’t take unnecessary risks unless he was absolutely certain he had the upper hand. Someone must he forcing his hand, something has to be important to have his little brother go MIA every few months and it be kept a secret from both Bruce and Alfred…Well, he could understand keeping it from Bruce, but Alfred?

The halls were quiet as he made his way to the library, the path easy to recall with each step. He knew which boards in the floor would creak under his weight and how many strides it would take once he got to the second floor (twenty if he was starting at the stairs, thirty-two from his old room.) Jason memorized the feel of the curtains on the windows and the polished wood of the walls. The familiar sights of the antique paintings besides gilded sconces and the soft linen of the lampshades.

He knew which doors led to room and which ones were closets. Knew which wall sections had secret tunnels behind them or hidden compartments. Jason could point out what floorboards held Batarangs and masks beneath them, which ones held hidden, priceless heirlooms, and which ones had extra Nerf darts for their standoffs.

Jason could paint the sight of the library from memory from how long he had holed himself up in there. Weekends spent curled up in his chaise with a stack of books picked from both the manor’s selection and the public library. School nights of rest traded for lamp-lit evenings and tepid tea as he read book after book in the quiet of the manor.

He remembers the times where Bruce had to carry him out of the library because he refused to leave, preferring to remain content in his bubble than socialize at the boring gala they hosted. A fond smile stretched across his lips remembering the few times when Percy had cuddled up next to him on the nights neither of them could sleep. Restless limbs and racing minds keeping them awake but exhausted as Jason read a loud his current novel.

The library was exactly the same as it was years ago. The same old oak shelves and leather bound books, hand made rugs on the carpet and artisan furniture clustered in the expansive room. Jason never had the chance to finish reading through it all, hadn’t even completed the shelf he started in his corner.

His corner.

Jason hadn’t even made it to his secluded little area of the room in his bittersweet remembrance. There were times when Jason preferred to sleep and live in that little corner. He wonders if Percy’s claimed it for himself while he was gone. Did he bring his own blankets and pillows or just kept using his? Did he do his homework there, did he try and read all the books Jason had around it, did he fall asleep on the nights he couldn’t in his own bed?

Seeing Percy under the thick knitted blanket on the chaise was a surreal experience. It was like he was looking at himself almost five years ago, curled up with a book and the natural light of the rare Gotham sun illuminating the old papyrus pages of a well loved book. Black textured hair and colored eyes tracing the words, oblivious to the world outside the hardcover pages.

Time seemed to favor his little brother. He had grown nearly to Jason’s height, his lanky arms were beginning to fill out and the baby fat on his cheeks were slowly being chiseled away to show off a strong jaw and a sculpted nose. But the kid still had a ways to grow. Gangly legs spilled lazily under the blanket and onto the floor, elbows digging into the cushion beneath him and awkwardly pressed into his chest, as if he was trying to make himself smaller.

When he got closer, it was then Jason recognized the book Percy was reading. Pride and Prejudice. His favorite book, and not just any copy, Jason’s copy. The one filled with messy handwriting in the margins and doodles in the corners. The one with highlighter accentuating his favorite paragraphs and lines. The one with sticky notes upon sticky notes of his thoughts and predictions and comments from every time he’s read the book.

The one with their mother’s name scrawled on the title page. Her loopy cursive claiming the book as hers and her son’s, their names in blue ink and fish stickers with hearts and stars covering the entirety of the page.

“You know that’s my spot.” Percy jolted at the sound of his voice, looking a bit displeased about being interrupted before realizing who it was that spoke.

“Finders keepers.” He closed the book and shifted to sit up in his seat. He tossed the blanket to the other side of the chaise and gingerly placed the book on the side table next to him.

When Percy looked at him, Jason was taken a back for a second. He knew that Percy and him looked similar; the shape of their eyes, the ridge in their nose and the point in their eyebrows. Their mirrored widows peak and cleft chin, lopsided grins and full lips—even the speckle of freckles across the bridge of their cheeks that were a bit more hidden in Percy’s tanned skin than on Jason’s. Percy’s hair had gentler waves than Jason’s near coils, but both boys had the same black color they got from their biological father. And Percy’s eyes had been greener than Jason’s blue, though that didn’t matter now since the Lazarus pits tinted them to a teal instead of the aquamarine they used to be.

They were near identical to the untrained eye. Even down to the shock of white in their—wait.

White? In Percy’s hair?

Jason took a breath, deciding to focus his eyes on the peeling dry skin on his hands. “I’m sorry.” When he looked up to his brother, he couldn’t make head or tails of what he was thinking. His expression stoic and unchanging. “Looking for you should have been the first thing I did when I cam back to Gotham, you’re right, and I cannot apologize enough that it wasn’t.

“And I’m not trying to justify my actions or excuse them, but these past few months I have been blinded by pit-rage,” Jason confessed. “I wake up with a plan to get revenge and I go to sleep another step closer to it. I get so—so tunnel visioned trying to stop the Joker and getting Bruce to understand that looking for you and seeing if you were okay was never a thought that crossed my mind.”

Jason could see the hurt building up in Percy as he spoke. His eyebrows twitching to furrow but he was trying to keep himself expressionless, trying to keep Jason from knowing his feelings. “And I understand if after this you don’t want to talk to me anymore. I-I’m dangerous Percy, I’ve killed people. Bad people, yeah, but when the green takes over I…it’s hard to tell whose the good guy and whose not.”

“I just…I don’t want to hurt you,” Jason said. “I don’t want to do anything I’ll regret because I can’t control myself.”

Percy didn’t speak for a few seconds, he just sat there, eyes downcast towards the floor. “You did hurt me though. You hand me in a choke hold against the wall because you thought I was Robin.”

“I know, and I am so sorry about that. If I’d known it was you, I’d never have done it.”

“So then it’s okay to do that Tim? You know he’s my best friend, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then why? You could’ve killed him!’

“Because I was angry Percy!” Jason shouted, rising to his feet.

He could feel the beginning heat in his finger tips from the pits, egging him on to leave and fight something. To feel warm blood run cold, avenge his younger self, to draw Bruce’s attention and make him realize the consequences of his own undone actions. “I was angry at Bruce because he replaced me months after my death. I was angry that Bruce let my killer run free! That he’s enabling him to hurt and kill other people! I thought I’d be the last one he’d let hurt, that I would be the line in the sand and that my death would finally put the Joker in the ground where he belongs.”

Jason sighed, falling back down in his chair, head in his hands, defeated. He knows that it wasn’t much of an excuse. Jason wanted to hurt Tim in the Robin suit because he was angry at the kid whose not even a month older that Percy for putting on the suit. Angry that Tim replaced him when his body hadn’t even gotten cold in the casket yet.

“I was, and still am, angry that Bruce couldn’t stop the Joker.” Jason dug the heels of his palm into his eyes. “Because if he let the Joker live, then you could get hurt. And I…I can’t let you get hurt by him, Perce, I can’t loose you to him. I just can’t.”

Jason could feel the tears in the corners of his eyes, spilling out in the gaps his hands could not cover. There was a tightness in his chest, like a boulder in between his lungs and rib cage that wouldn’t let him take a full breath of air. It was constricting. Debilitating. He can’t break down like this in front of Percy, he’s supposed to be the big brother. Supposed to be strong and confident so that Percy could learn in his footsteps.

But how can he do that when he’s been gone for almost half of his life, when he’s been buried under ground, resurrected halfway across the world, and out for blood in the streets of their home? When he never spent a moment of his second life wondering where Percy had been but trying his damnest to keep him safe.

That’s all he’s ever done, kept his brother safe. And yet, he was the one who hurt him. He had put his hands around his throat and sliced his cheek prying off that stupid domino. He had kicked and punched and jabbed at him, leaving behind welts and purple skin.

God, he was a shit brother.

He heard Percy shuffle in the chaise across from him, his bare feet nearly silent on the hardwood floors, before the cushion beside him dipped further from the second body. Tentative arms wrapped around him, landing softly over his back and threaded through the gap between his chest arms. The weight of Percy’s head against his shoulder almost brought another round of tears from him. It was a familiar feeling, all those nights he’d fall asleep against him, either in the old wooden crate from their childhood or the chaise sitting unassuming before them.

The weight of his brother against him was reminiscent of a bygone era. Where the worst thing that could happen was broken ankle and detention. A time when Jason could laugh and smile freely without the sound of the Joker haunting him from his memories, when green and purple were just colors and loud booms were for fireworks and not bombs. When Jason could trust the safety of cape and cowl to protect him and his brother.

Could he trust it now? After all he’s done, all he’s said, all he will do in future—is he still allowed that safety? The peace of mind that comes with a parent’s unwavering love and patience, is that still something he can rely on?

“You won’t lose me Jay,” Percy said, placing his full weight onto him, his arms tightening in their hold. And it felt like forgiveness. Like maybe perhaps Percy could forgive him for what he’s done to Tim, for what he’s done to Gotham, to all those poor souls he’s reaped—for what he’s done to him.

For what it’s worth, Jason was glad he wasn’t the only one crying once he wrapped his own arms around Percy. As soon as he wrapped him up tight, leaning his chin on his him, Jason could feel Percy’s hold tighten. The boy buried his face into his shoulder and let the barely contained sobs loose, making him shake like a wet chihuahua as he cried. It only made Jason hug Percy tighter, as if he was assuring him that yes, he was real, and yes, he was alive.

He can’t imagine what it must have felt like for Percy these past few years. Estranged from Bruce (which was still a weird notion) and dealing with his own problems. Problems that left him scarred and scabbed and with the weight of the world on his shoulders, like a soldier in a war.

Jason pulled back from the hug, his hands coming to cup Percy’s face. Red eyed, flushed cheeks, and a disbelieving smile when he looked at him. Carefully, Jason tilted Percy’s head to the side, wanting to examine the streak of white in his hair. “How’d you get this?” Jason thumbed the strand, the wave straightening out before bouncing back into place.

“How’d you get yours?” Percy wiped his tears on the back of his hand when Jason let him go.

“The Lazarus Pits decided to redo my hair as an extra little gift besides the insurmountable rage,” Jason fluffed out his hair. “Now spill.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I got it from holding up the sky?” Percy chuckled, only to laugh a little harder at the look of confused disbelief on Jason’s face.

*******************************************

The boys are back!!! RAHH🎊🎉‼️

Hope you liked it, and keep an eye out for two BtFR updates this upcoming week. They’re semi-important for the lore

Thank you for reading!!!!

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[hanahaki-disease]

You Can’t Recall My Name

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“I’m not talking about Dick, or Cassandra, or even Stephanie—I’m talking about Jason! I saw him. When I was in the Labrynth with Grover. I saw him.”

“I thought you said he was dead?” She asked.

“That’s why I need to go back,” Percy unlatched the door to Blackjack’s stall, the hinges creaking as he led the pegasus through. “I cant—I can’t stay here knowing that Jason might be alive.”

The title of this one is from the same song used for arc 2, “Descending,” but this is the beginning of arc 3. Hope you like it!

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Logically, he should not be in his cabin packing. He should be out in the camp, checking in on the other campers and those in the infirmary. He should be with the other cabin counselors, planning and preparing for the next attack or theorizing about what Luke and Kronos were up to. He should be preparing the shrouds with the others, painting and weaving the tapestries to send their fallen campers into the underworld.

Percy should not be running away when the camp needed him here.

His body was screaming at him to stop what he was doing. Being hunched over the trunk that held his clothes, knees touching the ground and straining his already sprained ankle. His shoulder burning as he dug through the miscellaneous clothes he’s gathered over the years. An old camp shirt from his first summer, the hoodie that was now too small from this past winter break—even the old Meriweather prep gym shirt was still in the trunk. How had that survived?

Maybe he should have gone to the Apollo cabin before he started to do this. Stolen a shot of nectar or just swallowed an ambrosia square whole like a seagull. It wouldn’t heal his injuries completely, but it would be enough to make him not clench his teeth so hard as he lifted his Gotham bag out of the storage. Or perhaps he should just jump into the ocean for a quick minute, let the saltwater close his wounds, heal his torn ligaments till he was left healthier than when he jumped in. He’d need it if he was to survive the trip back home.

“Percy?” Annabeth knocked on the cabin door. For a second, he was reminded of last summer where this had happened before. Annabeth, hesitant at the threshold of his cabin as he dug through the stuff that came from home. But in the span of a year, so much has changed. Grey streaked their hair, scars littered their skin, and they weren’t as unsure of themselves as they once had been.

They were stronger now. Soldiers in an army. Generals in a war.

“Where are you going?” She asked eyeing the black bag on the floor. She hadn’t seen it before, no one really had. Percy had brought it with him at the beginning of the summer and quickly stashed it in the false bottom of the trunk. It had everything Percy needed to make a bat-level emergency leave. Dominoes in case he needed to hide his identity (one made specifically for him) and Batarangs for quick and easy weapons. Bat approved rations and water treatment drops in case he was in the wilderness. Even the bag itself could be worn as a chest plate if strapped the right way, it was made of Kevlar and other lightweight, but still sturdy, material.

He didn’t think he would need to use it this quickly. Maybe in a few years or something, pickup a distress call in the area for some reason, grab the bag, and leave. Or it could’ve just sat at the bottom of the trunk waiting to be used but never needed to. He would have cleaned out the storage case, chuckled at the outdated tech, and continued on with his life since he didn’t need to stay at camp anymore. That he was grown and strong enough to survive outside the magical barrier that kept camp safe.

“I gotta go,” He hissed as he stood up from his crouched position. The straightening of his back made his ribs ache and he didn’t think he could put weight on his bad ankle if he tried.

“Go? Where? To Gotham?” Annabeth walked further into the cabin, worry and confusion on her features as she tried to stop him. “It’s not the end of the summer yet, and we just finished fighting Luke’s attack. It’d be suicide to go out there right now!”

Percy wasn’t paying much attention to her, which was rude, he knows. Alfred would be very upset he ignored a lady like that. But he can’t get that scene out of his head. Can’t get the clear as day image of those two, blurred by the rain on the dirty window pane, face to face, with a gun pointed at the other and the Joker tied on the floor.

Was it the labyrinth playing tricks with his head? Was it the adrenaline making him see things that weren’t real? If it was the labyrinth, why hadn’t Annabeth or Grover been affected, or had they just kept their hallucinations to themselves? It wasn’t making sense!

Annabeth ripped the shirt from his hand, jerking his bad shoulder and made pain jolt through him. “Perseus Jackson, you better tell me right now what is going on!”

“I have to go to Gotham, Wise girl, I need to know,” He strained his arm for the shirt. “Gimme back my shirt. I need to go.”

“No, I’m not letting you go until you tell me what is going on!” Annabeth dove for the bag, almost falling over because she wasn’t expecting the weight of it. Percy could seed her eyes widen when she glanced at the objects inside. The masks and Batarang, the grapple guns with its extra hook and rope, one of Tim’s collapsible staffs.

“I have to see my brother, Annabeth!” He was frantic now. Desperate to get the bag back, to leave and see if what he saw was right. Because it couldn’t be right. There was no-fucking-way that what he saw was real.

Percy was on coms the day Jason died. He could hear the wind and the engine from Bruce’s com, he could see the white of the snow in the valley. Hear Joker’s voice tease and taunt the bat. And for a split second in that chair, Percy could feel the heat of the blast. The fire on his skin, the smoke in his lungs. Alfred didn’t want him to go down there that day, the butler having a bad suspicion of what was to come. But Percy wasn’t really known for listening to orders. He had snuck downstairs, placed on the headset, and watched his brother get blown up.

“Give me my bag, Annabeth” Percy hissed when he stood, but he needed to get that bag and get home. How he doesn’t know, but he was going to figure it out, though Annabeth withholding his bag wasn’t helping. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you to get it, but I will if I have to.”

Her hands tightened around the strap, eyebrows furrowed and gray eyes hardened in their stare. She was really not helping. He didn’t want to use the training Bruce had drilled into him, the disarming techniques meant to confuse and leave the opponent unharmed. Didn’t want her to know that he was far better in hand-to-hand combat than he let on for the past few years. He may trust Annabeth with information about his life in Gotham and his status as a Wayne—but he doesn’t know if he can trust her with the knowledge of Batman. That secret had layers to it, it wasn’t just Bruce who’d be exposed. It be his whole family.

He knows how much she was willing to go for information, their journey through sirens’ bay last summer was the first that came to mind. And he trusts her with his life, obviously, he’d be dead if he didn’t. But this was a big part of Percy’s life, almost, if not, bigger than his life as a demigod. How many supers did he know simply because his adoptive father is Batman? How many of his friends in Gotham did he know because his brothers were Robin and Nightwing?

That was a whole other world that he doesn’t know if he ready to bring to camp. Worlds he’s tried to keep separated for the safety of both sides.

Annabeth didn’t budge in her stance, and while his ankle was very upset with him, as was the rest of his body, Percy dropped and swung her legs out from under her. Reaching for the bag with his good arm and twisting it out of her grasp with the ease that came from being trained by a bat.

“What the—” She said as she hit the floor. “Wait! Percy!” He didn’t stop though. He continued his way to the stables where he knows Blackjack will take him to the edge of Long Island so Percy can go the rest of the way home. The bay between New York and New Jersey wouldn’t take long to swim, a few hours maybe. And the salt water will heal him on the way too, so that helps.

Percy felt Annabeth’s arm grab hold of his uninjured arm, pulling him back enough to stop. “Listen, please.” She said, worried and a bit upset that he yanked his appendage out of her grasp. “Can you just explain what going on? You’re hurt and panicked after the fight and I wont let you leave unless you tell me. Your muttering something about your brother and it doesn’t make sense. Tim’s fine, you spoke with him right after you showed up for your funeral.”

“That’s the thing, Annabeth! It’s not Tim I’m talking about,” he pulled her towards the back of Blackjacks’ stable, telling him to keep an eye out. “I’m not talking about Dick, or Cassandra, or even Stephanie—I’m talking about Jason! I saw him. When I was in the Labyrinth with Grover. I saw him.”

“I thought you said he was dead?” She asked.

“That’s why I need to go back,” Percy unlatched the door to Blackjack’s stall, the hinges creaking as he led the Pegasus through. “I cant—I can’t stay here knowing that Jason might be alive. If he’s out there in Gotham looking for me and I’m not there.” He climbed on, wincing from the weight of the bag on his shoulder and the way his back had to curl forwards while riding.

“Wha—” She trailed after him. “What am I going to tell the others, to Chiron?”

“I don’t know and I could fucking care less, wise girl,” Percy tightened the straps. “You’re smart, you can figure it out.” With a silent command, Blackjack took off, leaving behind the battle worn camp.

——

Percy rose from the Gotham harbor with his injuries left behind on the shore of Long Island and his Bat go-bag draped across his torso. The ‘water’ clinging to his now ruined camp shirt and splashing onto the dock in a way water shouldn’t. There was still a debate on weather or not the water in the harbor was still water. The amount of toxins and waste spilled into it was beginning to show in the deepest part of it, the bed of it looking much like the Mississippi. Filled with trash and mud that made him sink up to his thigh. But there was still a bit of the original saltwater in there. The last remnants from when the water was still water.

To a native Gothamite, it was easy to tell when something was going to happen. The city would hold it’s breath. Anxiously awaiting to the snap of a gun or the crack of a bomb somewhere within its borders. Those not involved with the looming attack would take shelter in the dilapidated buildings that made up the city.

And if Percy wasn’t a native Gothamite, he might’ve thought twice about stealing some random guy’s bike. But Percy was from Gotham and he’s learned to not really give a shit about it. That guy probably stole it from someone else anyway, so he was doing a justice by stealing it from him. Karma and all that.

The drive to the manor let him rethink what he saw the other day. With dirty, and ancient walls surrounding him in the labyrinth, just barely taller than he was and scrapping the top of his head if he stood on his toes. Dried and dead vines would crawl up the walls and disappear into the cracks along the floor or down corridors that gave Percy a bad vibe by just looking at it, like still water in Crocs’ territory or silence in the halls of Arkham.

He had been following Grover as they tried to find Pan, the fresh breeze and the smell of cut grass leading them through twists and turns that would surely leave them lost had it not been for the satyrs’ nose. They had stopped at a t-shaped junction. The trail to pan Pan was straight ahead and Percy could see bright green tufts of plants beginning to dot the floors, but the sound of a gunshot halted Percy in his step. The exit of the maze was barely ten feet from where he stood at the entrance of the side corridor. The plastic of an old, worn tarp billowing in a cold and rainy breeze from the other side.

Percy recognized the smell of the rain from the other side, the all too familiar twinge of wet, rusted metal and smog. Of lingering toxins and various other poisons that never seemed to disappear. Percy knew where the exit lead to, he recognized the chipped and crumbling brick of the building on the other side. The hastily drawn graffiti on the wall and the shattered light bulb of the singular lamp at the end of that alleyway.

Grover tried to keep him going down the right corridor. Persistent on having his best friend return to the quest at hand, but it was as if Percy had been hypnotized by the scent of the rain and the sound of the gun. He knew that Percy had to know what was on the other side.

There, in the window of the building across from him, stood two people. The first he knew was Bruce. The pointed ears and rubber of the cowl, still with beads of rain dripping down the back of his head and onto his shoulders and cape. He was tense as he stared down the other person. Shoulders square and feet an equal distance apart, ready to spring into action should he need to fight or defend. Bruce was blocking his view of the other man, but Percy could see the very edge of what he looked like. An armored compression shirt, dark gray and tucked into (probably) armored cargo pants. Pockets filled with gadgets and weapons surely. A holster empty of its weapon that was clearly in the guys’ hand.

The other guy was talking, his voice growing louder with each word, to the point where Percy could hear him from where he stood. Something about him dying, about letting someone go free. And even with the sound of the rain and two brick walls, Percy could hear the gun cock and load another round.

Bruce moved to his right, letting Percy see who it was he was talking to.

Had it not been for Grover beside him, Percy’s ass would’ve hit the floor. Had it not been for Grover, Percy would have stepped out of the labyrinth and confronted them. Had it not been for the seeker and former protector, Percy would have gotten hurt in the blast of the bomb that shattered the windows and made the walls crumble as the exit closed.

Because there, with a loaded gun towards their father in one hand and other holding the captive Joker at his feet, was Jason.

The chittering of the bats in the cave overhead and the bright fluorescent lights shook him out of his thoughts. Percy could see Dick tinkering away at something in the vehicle bay, a pair of crutches leaning on a chair and his foot propped on pillow. Tim was at the computer beside Bruce, an arm in a sling and the Robin cape still clasped around his shoulders. And Bruce—well, he simply kept his eyes glued to the screen. No doubt analyzing some kind of footage for a case or something.

“When were you going to tell me?” Percy demanded as he let the bike clatter to the floor. To his left he could see Dick scrambling to get his crutches and Tim backing away from Bruce, wanting to stray away from Percy’s angered glare. He was angry at Tim too, obviously, but he can wait till they weren’t in the cave. Percy’s dramatic enough to cause a scene in the cave against Bruce, but not enough to drag Tim down with him. “Huh? When were you going to tell me Jason was alive?

“When were you going to tell me my brother was back from the fucking dead?!” He spun Bruce around in the chair, forcing the older man to look at him. “Or were you just never going to tell me?”

“How do you expect me to tell you when you disappear every few months,” Bruce stood. “If you want me to trust you with this kind of information, I need you to be present when it happens.”

“This kind of infor—That’s my brother!” Percy yelled. “You were going to to keep this from me? You have no right!”

“I have every right to keep his well being in mind,” Bruce commanded. “He is my son.”

“And I’m not?”

There was a silence that hushed the four of them. Dick was speechless where he stood, a mix of anger to his mentor and confusion to his brother swirled through his head, because surely Percy didn’t mean that. He was Bruce’s son just as much as Tim and Jason and he himself were. Tim could only watch as his best friend stood eye to eye against the older Wayne, a reoccurring argument that never seemed to end. Only put on hold till they can revisit the rageful words and hurt hearts once again. Tim knew how both of them felt towards the other, having become the designated listener to their rants.

Because he knows how hurt Percy is towards the man, he knows about the blatant disregard he once had for the younger of the two Todds had been bordering on the same kind of neglect Tim’s own parents had done to him. Tim had been told time and time again, every time Percy and Bruce butted heads, how Percy believes Bruce’s affection towards him was only because of his relationship to Jason. How he was totally convinced that Bruce would never have taken Percy in had Jason not been his brother.

But Tim also knew that Bruce cared for Percy just the same—if not more—than he had for Jason in the years after his death. The man had doubled down on making the Robin suit as safe and guarded as he could in the possibility that Percy had ever wanted to continue Jason’s legacy. He always made sure that the tracker they all had was kept up to date in terms of software and models, every communicator would be able to connect to the main bat-computer from all around the globe. All because Bruce doesn’t want to loose Percy the same way he had lost Jason.

And the fourteen year-old knows just how badly Percy wants to be told that Bruce still wants him as his son. Tim knows that Bruce would do anything to keep Percy alive and by his side.

If only the two of them could actually tell each other that, then this needless argument wouldn’t have happened.

Bruce didn’t speak for almost a minute after the statement and he didn’t seem too keen on backing down in the argument either. Percy didn’t want to take the high ground this time, he didn’t even want to continue this stupid fight. He just wanted to know if Jason was alive or not and arguing with Bruce wasn’t going to give him the answers he needed.

He stood back from Bruce, irritation and anger still coursing through him, but he had more important things than this. “You know what?” Percy dug into the bag he carried, pulling out the comm device and one of the dominoes, tossing the bag carelessly to the side, before walking back to the bike he brought. “Fuck this. I’m gonna go see him myself.”

——

Two weeks had passed since Percy’s return home. Two weeks since he stormed out of the cave. The dirty clothes on his back, a domino hastily placed across his eyes, and a stolen bike as his only possessions.

He would be fine on his own while he looks for his brother, Percy knows this. They had a bunch of different safe houses dotted around the city and a few on the edges of Bludhäven and Metropolis in case of emergencies. The one he was currently at was one Jason had set up in his last year as Robin. One he picked and planned and stocked himself, with only himself and Percy who knew of it’s location.

The grubby attic space hadn’t been touched since it’s debut as a safe house. Dust and dirt covered the smuggled pillows and blankets, moths had taken to consuming the very old Robin suit and civvies stored in the trunks. Half a decade old MREs and various other expired rations in a rusted metal box, he didn’t really need those though. He had enough mortal money to last him and he could always guilt Dick or Tim into bringing him food. But if he does that then they might follow him and find out where he was and Percy doesn’t want that.

Percy stared at the map in front of him, a red marker entwined in his fingers as he lined the ruler against the other marks he had made. To the unassuming eye, one might think Percy was just drawing random lines on the map. A dotted line from one street to another, a circle around a few sporadic blocks in the Crime Alley area, a random arrow at a random section. And the people who could figure out that he was trying to locate something, they would accuse Percy of thinking that he didn’t know what he was doing or wasn’t smart enough to figure it out. But they were so very wrong.

Yes, it’s true, Percy may not be at the top of the class and his grades may not be the best, but he was taught by the Bat. That had to account for something right? Both of his best friends were geniuses, a daughter of Athena and a kid with eidetic memory, and his older brother was the best when it came to literature. Not to mention the mandated Robin training he had gone through with Jason—not because he wanted to be Robin, no, but because it was good knowledge to have.

Which was how he was here, map of Gotham and a red stained ruler, trying to triangulate all the possible places he could try to find Jason.

Some days he wouldn’t show, other days he would. On the days he did, he was all over this poverty stricken and drug filled side of town. Jumping from the Narrows one day, then down to the harbor, and up again to the Bowery. Jason wouldn’t stay still and it was making Percy the tiniest bit frustrated.

He looked up to the shabby excuse for a pin board in front of him. He had assembled every newspaper article of Red Hood sightings that he could find. Bits and pieces of what happened between him and Batman that last week he was in the labyrinth. The duffle bag of heads, the explosion of ACE chemicals and the midtown bridge—even the op-ed about him and his control over the drug trade by Vicki Vale.

A part of Percy didn’t want to believe that Jason was the one who had done all of that. That his brother’s name was just attached like a footnote, a scapegoat to release the true criminal of the blame. But Percy knew what Jason was capable of, what he himself was capable of as well, outside the sphere of the demigod world. Jason was trained personally by the Batman to be a lethal fighter with enough mental discipline to knock-out an enemy instead of kill, which was harder to do when you know exactly the strength of your own punches. Jason was clever, a natural-born trickster that would have him fit in great with the Hermes cabin. Smarts like that could be the deciding factor in a fight.

“I thought I told the bat to keep his little birds in their cages.” Percy sprang into action, the domino already adhered to his skin from his attempt to track down his brother earlier that night and two Batarangs in hand as he kept a good distance between him, and the other person.

It was one thing to see his brother through the glass of the window earlier, when he was able to believe that it was just the magic of the labyrinth messing with his head and trying to trick him into believing it was real. It was one thing to see the pictures of him in the newspapers and on TV screens, with an announcer talking about his latest chase through Gotham or a spotting in an area he didn’t frequent much. But to see him this close—to he see his chest moving with each breath and his hands tighten, ready for a fight—was something Percy didn’t think he was ready for.

His hesitation seemed to be Percy’s downfall in their stand-off. A thirty second head-start that made him drop his defenses and let Jason spring forwards at him, a fist pulling back to try and knock him out. But Percy has taken enough hand-to-hand combat at both camp and the cave to not be able to dodge as a reflex. And he does have to commend himself a little, just a wee pat on the back, but he was very skilled when it came to his type of fighting. He was able to go against a fair few of the Ares and Hephaestus kids who preferred the close range style, but it seemed as if his brother as on another level. One to stand a chance against Bruce.

Back and forth they swiped at each other, kicks aiming to sprain ankles and push the other back. Gods, when did Jason get so big?! When Jason had been alive, when he was Percy’s age right now (and wasn’t that a sad thought?) he wasn’t exactly cut out for the wrestling team. They were made of lean muscles. Toned lats and wide shoulders, a swimmers physique since the water was their domain. Made to cut through the waves and ride the currents with ease. Jason, however, was big and bulky.

He was taller than Percy by a good few inches, and Percy was no small kid either hitting the five-foot-ten mark with ease and room to grow still. His shoulders were broader than they used to be and his chest was wider, no doubt a strong man type body. Large arms loaded each punch with power, and thick thighs channeled strength in every kick. And despite being quite huge, Jason was quick on his feet. Side stepping his own attacks with ease and redirecting them to disarm Percy or knock him down.

Jason swung his leg out, the heel of his boot digging into his stomach and sent him crashing into the wall behind him. He wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, the Batarangs falling from his grasp.

Percy didn’t have time to catch his breath it seemed, as only seconds after he was sent back, Jason’s hand found it’s way around his throat. He had to admit—Percy was a little scared of his brother right now. How could he not be? Jason was six-foot-something, had almost a hundred extra pounds of raw muscle and strength against him, and had Percy in a choke hold with one hand. The red helmet he wore gave him no impression what he was thinking and the guns he had strapped to his body made it so Percy could only do so much before his brother deiced to forgo the close combat and switch to firearms.

“How many birds its gonna take to make him realize that kids shouldn’t be out in the streets,” Jason spoke, his grip tightening as Percy clawed at his brother’s arm. “How many birds will I have to hurt to get it through his thick-fucking-skull?”

“J-Jay,” Percy gasped. “St-op!”

“Just because you’re not wearing a robin suit, doesn’t mean you’re exempt.” There was a glint of silver in the corner of Percy’s eyes. The fucker pulled out a knife against him. A knife. “I need him to understand, and this is the only language he speaks.”

Black dots were beginning to flood his vision and he didn’t know if Percy was going to last any longer in Jason’s grasp. He felt the sharp edge of the knife. It stung his flesh as Jason dragged it over his cheek bone when he pried the mask off of him, the adhesive tearing at his skin and leaving behind residue and irritated skin in it’s place.

“I knew who the other little Robin was,” Jason said. “The pretender in a dead kids’ uniform. But who are—”

Jason’s words stopped abruptly when Percy’s mask was fully off. The whites of the helmet widened, the grip around his throat was gone and Percy collapsed to the ground with ragged breaths and coughing spurts. He didn’t see him, but Percy could hear Jason step away from him. The knife he pulled clattering to the ground, his boots tearing and crumpling the map still in its spot.

The helmet distorted his voice, making the stuttered breaths of realization sound choppy in the speaker. “Percy?” He looked up at his brother when he heard the red helmet drop to the floor with a loud thud. Jason stared at him with a wide-eyed look of horror. Green but once blue eyes shifting from Percy to his hands and the knife he had used. His eyebrows furrowed together, as if he was in disbelief of what he’s done. “What—?”

“I came—looking—you,” Percy managed, his lungs slowly regaining oxygen but his throat ached with every word.

“No, you-you shouldn’t,” Jason said. “You can’t—” He looked at the discarded mask. “You shouldn’t be looking for me, Perce.”

Percy shook his head. “I don’t care.”

“You shouldn’t be out in a mask looking for me,” He rose his voice. “I’ve done bad shit, Percy, you know this.”

“I don’t care!”

“You should. Go—Go back to the manor.”

“No!” Percy stood on shaky legs, one hand on the wall. “I have spent the last two fucking weeks chasing after you only for you to tell me to go back to the manor? Two weeks wondering if it was really you under that stupid helmet.” Percy faced him, anger coursing through his veins and bring tears to his eyes. Was it truly anger? Grief? “Two weeks wondering why you didn’t even bother looking for me!”

“I did the math, I counted the days,” Percy pointed to the pin board. “You’ve been back in Gotham for four-fucking-months and not once did you bother to look for me. You chose to put your stupid ass revenge on the Joker and stupid vendetta against Tim—Tim!—before me! What the fuck!”

“I didn’t go looking for you because I didn’t want you to get hurt!” Jason defended. “I care about you too much to be the reason something bad happens to you. You’re my little brother!”

“Bullshit! If you really cared, you wouldn’t have cared about that and still looked for me! You would have confronted Bruce!” Percy yelled. “I watched the feed, I saw you, and Bruce, and the Joker on the video, and not once, once did you ask about me! If I was safe! If I was okay!”

“Perce—”

“Stop! Just…Just stop,” He ran his hand through his hair, the adrenaline fueled anger was wearing off. His limbs were shaking either from exhaustion or residual rage. His throat burned from his yelling.

There was a silence between them. Heightened emotions, regrets, grief and anger all mixing to create a thick atmosphere in the confined space of the safe house attic. He could tell Jason was trying to justify his actions in his head, trying to string together words to make Percy understand why he did what he did. And truly, Percy understands. He knows that Jason would have wanted the Joker dead after his death because he wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt or killed like he did—he didn’t want Percy to get hurt like he did. But nothing could have hurt him more than knowing he wasn’t even a priority on his brother’s Return to Gotham checklist.

“I don’t want to hear any bullshit excuses or half assed lies,” Percy picked up his domino from off the floor and the grapple gun he’d been using to get around. With a shoulder check on Jason, he made his way to the window. “If you wanna pull your head outta your ass and actually give me the real reason, you know where to find me.”

The sharp bite of the late night air pricked his skin as he swung out of the safe house, leaving behind his grief and his stunned brother. The last thing Percy wanted to do was go back to the manor. He didn’t want to see Bruce and start up that argument. Didn’t want to face Tim and his silence on Jason’s return (but he was willing to hear his defense.) Didn’t want to be bombarded with Dick’s worried questioning of his recent disappearance.

But it was a test for Jason. To see if in his second chance of life, if Percy was someone Jason cared enough to push aside his current hatred for Bruce and prioritize his brother.

And if he doesn’t, then Percy can still believe he was dead.

*****************************

So? What’d ya think? I think Percy’s reaction was justified, I’d be the same way. I also need to figure out how to being his Gotham side out more. Maybe in a BtFR (beyond the farthest reaches) ficlet or something.

And!! This is the beginning of arc 3 so be prepared for dynamic shifts and fun stuffs!

Thank you for reading!!

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[hanahaki-disease]

im so much more interested in a hoo that lets Percy keep the status and power he'd left off with in the Last Olympian and explores how he grapples with that instead of immediately forcing him back into the role of the underdog at the expanse of his prior development. Let the fact that he alone has the title the "Savior of Olympus" mean something. Let the fact that he is the sole survivor of the great prophecy mean something. Let the Curse of Achilles mean something. Let us see how it's a curse and how it could warp his sense of self. Let Percy be on a completely different playing field than the rest of the seven (or even the other children of the big three at this point) and show us how it alienates him.

[hanahaki-disease]

Till I Let You Fall

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC Crossover

Summary:

“Jason Todd. The second Robin, Tim and Percy’s Robin. Percy’s big brother was alive and had beat the shit out of him the night before in Titans tower.”

❤️✨HE HAS RISEN BABY GIRL‼️✨❤️🤪🦀

**************************************

“Summer’s next week, huh?” Tim said from the door way. Sleep still had its grip on him, it tugged his eyelids down and made his movements a bit more lethargic than usual. But last nights’ patrol had been rough and Percy thinks Tim deserves to be a bit lazy on a Wednesday morning.

Croc had decided to start the night with a bang, crawling out of his lair that was the sewers to terrorize and obtain whatever it was he wanted in the docks. They had yet to figure out what it was, but Percy knows that Tim or Bruce will have that info by the time he gets back from the orientation. Tim also had the misfortune of running into Polka Dot Man right before his patrol ended. The corrosive circles made his cape look like Swiss cheese and he had lost a shoe some how in that battle.

Percy fought really hard to contain his laughter when he came back to the cave like that. Hair sticking up and disheveled, one sock wet from the constant puddles of rain water and cave moisture, his belt in one hand and his other hand holding up his pants. Tim was a mess and Percy had the right as his brother and best friend to laugh at him.

“Actually, summer started on Monday,” Percy reread the itinerary for the orientation before shoving it into his backpack. “But yes, I go back to camp next week.”

Tim nodded his head, scratching at his belly as he did so. “What kinda shenanigans do you think you’ll get up to this time?”

“With my track history in mind,” he said. “Probably another cross country adventure. Higher chances of death this time, I know that for sure.”

“Why’s that?” Percy watched as Tim laid across his bed, across his clothes that Alfred had just finished pressing. “Did you have another prophetic dream or something?”

The younger of the two rolled the other off his clothes before grabbing his pillow and hit Tim with it. Percy chuckled at Tim’s groan when he threw it at his face. “Or something.” Tim did not look amused. “It’s…a vibe that I have, not so much as a dream. I just have this feeling that something is gonna happen this summer, not just camp, but here as well.”

“Like an invasion or takeover?” Percy shook his head. “Oh, one of us gets like, uber sick and we’re out for like a month? No, Bruce gets food poisoning when he goes on that date with Selina on Friday?”

“No, but that would be funny,” Percy leaned against his desk. “It’s more like, something happens to you specifically. Something happens and you get really hurt.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” Tim says.

“I know, which is why I’m leaving you these.” Percy pulls out a small drawstring bag from the desk drawer and tossed to him. It wasn’t any bigger than the palm of his hand and jingled when it landed. Inside was a good little pile of gold coins, roughly the size of a dollar coin and embossed on both sides.

One side had the empire state building on it, beams of light reaching out to the border making the picture seem holier than it was in real life. Circling the Empire state building on both side were Greek characters, probably a phrase of some kind. He could recognize a few letters, one was the popular ‘omega’ and another was ‘delta.’ There was also ‘psi’ but he couldn’t be quiet sure since it was a little different than the current version in the modern Greek alphabet, so Tim deduced that this was written in some kind of older version of the language.

On the other side of the coin was a small Pegasus encircled by a laurel wreath and the same Greek phrase on the edge of the coin. There was maybe, twenty of these coins in the bag. Each one having as different symbol in the laurel and the Empire State building on the other side. “What are these?”

“Gold drachmas,” Percy answered. “Currency of the gods, you can use them to call me when I’m gone.”

“You have a phone, though, can’t I just use that?”

He shook his head. “Have you ever seen me use my phone? If I try to use it, it’s basically a beacon to any and all monsters in Gotham, they’ll know I’m here and come after me. And I kinda don’t want to fight any more than I have to.”

“That’s fair. How does it work?” Tim sat up.

Percy moved to the window. The morning sunlight was bright and warm and so very different than how it usually is, but Tim didn’t mind it when he was inside. Like a cat, he could lay on the ground with a pillow and a blanket and take a nap in it’s warmth. He wouldn’t dare do it outside, though. Summer in Gotham was a humid hell and he didn’t want to be basting in his seat while he got roasted by the sun. At least inside he had the luxury of air conditioning.

Tim watched Percy’s gaze focused on the bottle of water on his nightstand. He watched as it’s contents began to spin in it’s plastic confines, swirling around in a vortex, making the bottle move as it did so. With an outstretched hand, Percy commanded it to burst from the bottle, pieces of plastic launched across the room—and in his hair—as the water floated it’s way to him.

Logically, Tim knows Percy can do this, he’s seen it before when Percy saved a baby bat that fell into the cave lake below. But he’s awestruck each time. Like his brain forgets that Percy has water powers and then remembers it all at once when he does it again. It was quite annoying.

He saw him make the water encircle his arm like a bracelet, a constant stream that so many fashion designers and celebrities alike would have killed to have. Carefully he made bits of the water stream off the main one, turning it into a fine mist that shakily made a rainbow in the sunlight. “Bring one of the drachmas and watch this.”

Sliding off the bed, Tim stood beside Percy as he took the drachma from him. “If, for whatever reason, you need to get a hold of me, this is how you do it. You make a rainbow, grab one of these, and say: O Iris, accept my offering!” He tossed the coin into the rainbow and Tim half expected to hear it clatter against the ground on the other side. But it didn’t. It wasn’t on the floor. It had simply vanished. “Then you ask her to show you who you need to talk to, for example: Show me, Grover Underwood, Camp Half-blood!”

A fuzzy image came into view and Tim audibly gasped at the sight. Grover looked exactly as he remembered him from sixth grade, from the curly hair, wispy beard on his chin and the slightly goat-like eyes. But while it was nice to see him again, Tim couldn’t help but take in the sights of the background.

Looming over the other buildings in the area, was a Colosseum. Old stone, withered by age but still kept up and cared for, it was the largest building Tim could see, with an amphitheater not too far from it either. A semi-circle of stone seats faced an unlit bonfire pit and a wooden stage. Pillars of white marble and lit braziers stood further behind the amphitheater, that was probably the pavilion Percy talked about. Where they eat their meals or have cabin meetings since there’s enough for all of them.

It wasn’t hard to spot the other campers Percy talks about, they all wore the same bright orange shirts he had and some were decked out in armor. Chest plates and shin straps, cauldrons and helmets, leather and shiny bronze that glinted in the sunlight. Each of them had a weapon on them. A sword on their hips, an ax in their hand or a spear. Though he knew they were kids like him, no older than eighteen, they held themselves like soldiers. Trained and dangerous kids who could hold their own for a good while in combat against the Amazonians. They fought like the Amazonians, Tim thought as he watched a group spar on the right side. Sand and dirt got kicked up as they moved, the plumes of their helmets shaved as they ducked, and the clash of blades and shields a constant background noise in Percy and Grover’s conversation.

“Alright, see ya G-man,” Percy swiped his hand though the image, ruining the rainbow and ending the magic video call. “You understand how it works now?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Percy said sending the last bit of water on him towards the sink in his restroom, fist bumping the air when it landed in the porcelain bowl. “If anything happens, anything at all, let me know. I’ll drop everything and come home.”

“Yeah, no, I wont do that,” Tim said and collect the bag of coins. “You’re going to be fifteen at the end of the summer Percy, and you said it yourself that you’re basically a general in this war of yours. I won’t rip you away from that for something you don’t need to worry about. We can handle it here, you just make sure you don’t die when you’re in camp and that you come home for your birthday.”

“No promises,” Percy says and grabbed his stuff, knowing Alfred was going to call for him soon to head to orientation for his new high school. Tim followed him out to the hall, waiting beside Cassandra who paused to waive goodbye to her new little brother, “Oh! And don’t even think about looking for your birthday present in my room. I already gave it to Alfred to keep your grubby hands away from it.”

“Shucks,” Tim placed his hand on his hips and waived Percy goodbye as he left with Alfred.

Tim knows that Percy has magic dreams, he’s been told all about them after his initial introduction into Percy’s second life. Knows that they sometimes leave him shaking with a sheen of sweat, other times he looks haunted. As if the ghost of someone he once knew visited him, leaving him sullen during breakfast the next morning. Sometimes his dreams are pretty useful, a few times he’s woken up with a premonition, a fuzzy kind of gut feeling about a building or a profile on a certain case. Other times, he warns Tim not to go with Bruce on a case, to go another way on patrol, to stop or distract Stephanie from something. It isn’t clear why sometimes, since nothing happens after that, but Tim can just assume that whatever it was he saw didn’t happen.

But this time, Percy didn’t have any concrete feelings or visions. He didn’t have an inkling of where or when, of who was there and who wasn’t. Just a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that kept Tim wary of whats to come later on.

—

Well shit.

So that’s what Percy meant when he said that Tim was going to be getting hurt.

Tim hissed in pain as he tried to reach for the handle of the drawer in the stand besides him. His right leg was in a cast, his shin was fractured and his knee was broken, as was his left wrist. The bruised ribs hurt to breath, move—exist in general, and the many cuts and bruises he got did not make anything any better.

He didn’t know what to expect in the days following Percy’s departure and the feeling of a serious injury towards him. Every day and every patrol he had spent on edge waiting for it to happen. Jumping at every person or movement in the shadow. (he felt bad every time it happened with Cass.) It got to the point that Bruce suggested that Tim takes some time away from Gotham and to head to Jump City to hang with the Titans for a bit.

Bruce.

Bruce Wayne, paranoia extraordinaire. The man who has plans for every little thing that could go wrong, told Tim that he needed some time away from Gotham. Because of Tim’s paranoia.

If Tim could laugh, he would, but his aching ribs prevented him from doing so. It also didn’t help that he was making it worse by trying to get the bag of drachmas he kept in the drawer. Normally he had them on top the stand, ready to grab in an emergency if he needed to reach out to Percy. But for some reason, he decided to tuck them into the drawer yesterday morning.

Why? He doesn’t know, he just did it, and here he was. Biting his lip in pain as he strained his good arm trying to even reach the handle. Either way, Tim has to get to those drachmas. He has to find a way to conjure a rainbow and call Percy from whatever quest he was on. This wasn’t something to put off any longer than it has been already—Jason was alive.

Jason Todd. The second Robin, Tim and Percy’s Robin. Percy’s big brother was alive and had beat the shit out of him the night before in Titans tower.

How did he come back? How long has be been alive and where has he been? So many questions had run through his head after Jason left him with an inch of his life last night. All of them needed answers, ones he doesn’t have and has no way of finding out because he was on bed rest. Which was stupid, he doesn’t need it. He’s fine.

Tim also needed to figure out where Jason was going next. He had gone on about how Batman had let another kid put on his suit, how Tim was just playing pretend in a dead kids uniform. And wow, Tim had déjà vu between the attacks from those insults since Percy had yelled them at him almost three years ago. So it was plausible for Tim to assume that Jason was heading to Gotham. He was probably going to confront Bruce or something.

And while Tim should warn Bruce of whats to come, let him know that his dead son has risen from the dead and is on a war path his way with a bullet that has his name on it. But Tim has found that he could care a little less than he should about Bruce right now. His main priority was to call his best friend to let him know that his brother was alive. After that, then maybe he’ll call Bruce.

His middle finger had just barely hooked onto the handle when the air in front of him shimmered into existence. The edges were colorful, a rainbow made of water vapor and magic, and in the middle there was a girl about his age. She had a healthy tan, much like Percy’s, and the tops of her cheeks were a bit more sun burnt than then rest of her face. Gold curls were pulled back into a ponytail letting Tim see the full intensity of her eyes.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen some one with gray eyes like hers, storm cloud gray and a piercing stare despite the red in her sclera. Tim knows that his eyes are pretty pale compared to the darker and brighter blues and green of his family, and he has been told that his own owlish, lead-paint stare was unnerving from time to time. But Tim found himself shrinking back into his pillow under hers.

“Who are you?” He said finally before mentally cursing himself that he didn’t have a domino on.

“Are you Tim Drake?” She answered.

“Answer my question first,” Tim hardened his glare, noticing how she didn’t seem fazed at it.

“My name’s Annabeth, I’m a…” Her next words caught in her throat a little. Her gaze fluttering to her surroundings as she collected her thoughts. “I was a friend of Percy.”

Percy was never one to share personal facts about himself to those he doesn’t know or doesn’t trust. He’s seen multiple times the way Percy shuts himself off to the other kids in school, the paparazzi, or anyone he deems unsafe. When they were kids, there was no hesitation for Percy to spill his life’s story to Tim. Somehow knowing that Tim was going to be his best friend at the age of eight on that rooftop years ago. He can imagine he was the same way over there at camp.

So whoever this Annabeth was, how ever she was connected to Percy, Tim could trust her too.

“Is he okay?” Tim tried to sit up.

She gave out a shaky breath and her gray eyes welt up with tears again, he tried to not let the dread in his stomach grow. “Have you, um, have you seen the news recently?” He shook his head. “Mount St Helens erupted a week ago, we were there when it did.” The dread was growing.

“I had left to deal with another monster, and Percy stayed there as a distraction.”

No. No…This can’t—

“Percy…” She wiped a tear away. “Percy blew up the mountain. We can’t find him. We think—we believe he died, no one could survive that. There’s gonna be…” she paused for a moment. “There’s gonna be a shroud burning next Friday, I can let you into the camp if you want to come.”

Tim’s throat was dry when he tried to respond. “I thought I couldn’t go since I’m mortal?”

“A demigod can let a mortal enter with explicit permission,” she nodded her head. “If you decide to come, I can meet you at the farmers road and lead you up. You were the only one who knew about this part of Percy’s life, I think he’d want you to be here to help light the pyre.”

With that, she swiped through the rainbow screen and the magic that held the water up fell into droplets on his bed. All at once, they left a wet mark on his sheets. So then why was he still hearing water hitting the bed? It was quiet, and faint, but there nonetheless. With a hand, Tim lifted it to his cheeks and discovered they were wet.

He was crying. When did he start crying? When had Percy left on a quest, why did he go? Tim wasn’t too far away, he could’ve flown a jet or have Superboy fly him there. Tim could have helped Percy, even if he could’ve seen anything. Tim could have had Kon fly in the rumble and the surrounding area, searching though the rocks with his X-ray vision looking for him and all the other people who had been hurt by the explosion. Tim couldn’t have done anything to stop him.

This—This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Tim was supposed to have called Percy. Wheezing from extortion, grimacing at his aching limbs and strained muscles with a smile on his face as he told Percy the news. He would seen his eyes widen, mouth drop, and maybe shed a few tears at the news. Percy would have said that he was on his way home, that he was going to pack his bag and head straight back to Gotham, but now…now…

Oh my god. Tim covered his mouth, he was going to have to tell the others.

He was going to have to be the one to tell Bruce that he lost another son to an explosion. He was going to have to tell Dick that all the bonding and reconciliation they’ve done these past two years were all for naught.

Tim was going to have to figure out a way to tell the recently revived Jason Todd that his little brother had died before he had come back to their world.

**************************************

Jason back in Gotham now >:) things are-a changing Percy’s reaction is gonna be in the next update, so stick around for that. And the dynamic between Percy and the rest of the batfam is gonna shift, quite a bit in the next arc—brace for that.

Also, this update marks the end of the second arc, I hoped you all liked it ❤️

All titles from this arc came from the song “Descending” by Sleep Token, go check them out, they’re an awesome band. Absolutely love them.

Thank you so much for reading‼️❤️

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[hanahaki-disease]

Beyond the Farthest Reaches

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC Crossover

“Robin? Yes, but also No”

Summary:

Being Robin was big shoes to fill, it’s a good thing he has his own pair and that its temporary.

Set after “And You Wonder What I Believe”

**********************************

Tim is sick. Point blank. No sugar coating it. Tim was sick with the flu and pneumonia and looked like Thanatos himself farted on him.

Percy grimaced when another round of coughs racked through Tim’s weak body, trying to keep his lunch from running back up. Honestly he wanted to help Tim get better. He wanted to play nurse like he was used to and make sure he got the fluids he needed, but he kind of forgot that with the flu came nausea and vomiting. Percy can handle a lot of gross things, he kinda has to if he wanted to be Alfred’s medical assistant. But removing bullets from bodies and resetting limbs and snapping broken feet back into place was a whole different ball park.

“Perce,” Tim croaked. His voice rough and scratchy from the abuse his bile did against his vocal chords. If he could heal illnesses with his power, Percy would have done it yesterday, but it seems even his powers have limits. “You haf’ta be—” he paused, gaged, and steadied his breathing. “be Robin for patrol.”

“B can go without Robin for a few nights, ducky,” Percy adjusted the tightness of his mask around his face. He was not getting sick. No thank you. Demigods and sickness do not mesh well together. “He’s a big boy, he can play pretend by himself.”

He didn’t know if it was because of Tim’s stubbornness or the delirium, but the kid shook his head. “Plan needs Bobin…haf’ta go.” His hazy eyes fluttered shut. “Use…use my suit.” Aaand he was out. Mouth open, drool already beginning to build up and his nose wheezing with each congested breath.

Yeeahh, no. Percy not going to use the sick-kids suit when he already has a suit himself. But as Percy closed the door behind him, discarding the mask and gloves in the disposal bin by the door, he wondered if Bruce actually needed a Robin for patrol tonight. Did he need the extra set of hands by his side and fighting along side him? Did he need another set of eyes to analyze and decipher whatever mystery that he and Tim had been working on?

A part of him was excited to be Robin, if only for a night. Yes, he’s told himself that he didn’t want to be Robin. That it was only for Jason and Dick and Tim, he found his excitement in the life of a demigod and was content to play the role of backup and medic. So then why had he designed his own suit? Better yet, why did Bruce agree to make it for him?

“B!” Percy jumped off the side of the stairs, skipping five steps, and scanning the cave for his dad. They were getting better, he liked to think. Some days were easier than others and some were like how it had been before Jason’s death. Percy felt like today was a good day (except for the fact that Tim was upstairs inches from deaths’ door.)

“Yes, pearl?” Bruce answered and he had to hold back a sigh. Diana had called him that when he was little, claiming Percy was too precious and that he should be protected like a pearl. It didn’t take long for Bruce to agree and soon both of them had called him by the nickname, though Diana had stopped shortly after he turned twelve and he didn’t quite know why.

“Ducky said you needed a Robin for patrol tonight,” he said, walking over to the garage where his dad was.

“I do,” Bruce wiped away his sweat. “I needed him to crawl through an air vent to try and get the plans Dent has against Sionis.”

“Dent? As in, your ex-boyfriend Dent? The one from high sch—” Bruce tossed his dirty rag and hit Percy in the face, cutting him off. “Ew! That’s gross, dad! Yuck!”

“But, yes, that Dent,” Bruce chuckled. “Tim was supposed to get it while I created a diversion. I’d do it another time, but Harvey leaves town tomorrow with those plans.”

Percy kicked his feet from where he sat on the tool table beside Bruce. “What if…” he scratched at his neck, “What if I was Robin for tonight? Since Tim is sick and everything.”

Bruce turned to look at him, concern laced his features because he, too, knew that Percy never had an interest being Robin before. His dad seemed to think about it for a bit before answering. Percy knew that if he put on the suit, any variation of it, he’d look a little too much like Jason. The mask would sit over his eyes the same way and the cape would hang over his shoulders just like Jason’s suit had done for him.

And maybe Bruce thought he was ready to see Percy in the suit, if only for a night. He had gotten over the drinking (which Percy didn’t even know he had done) and allowed Tim to be Robin, to bear the same name as Jason. But was he ready for Percy? For his youngest?

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to, son,” Bruce said setting down his tools. Percy only nodded his head. No turning back now. “Alright. Suit up. We leave in thirty.”

Percy didn’t need to be told twice. He leapt off the table, making a few tools crash to the floor, a made a beeline for his locker. Did he need a locker? Not really, he didn’t have a suit nor did he go out on patrol—at least that’s what Bruce knew.

There were a few times since his return that first summer that his restlessness had gotten worse. He couldn’t sit still in the cave anymore, and no amount of going through Dick’s high bars or going against the hologram training was going to settle his bones. He needed to run. To sprint and dodge and maybe stop a mugging or two while Bruce and Tim were out doing Bruce and Tim things. So with Alfred’s help, Percy had his own “uniform” to wear while he went out. Armored, camouflaged, and with at least three trackers sewn into it to make sure he was safe, Percy was ready to go out and kick ass.

He didn’t have to wear that suit tonight, thankfully, it was getting a little tight. But the Robin version of that suit fit perfectly, and Percy couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his lips when he saw it. Compared to the three previous Robins, his suit was different. He stole the idea of green pants from Tim, as well as the two sided cape so he’ll have to thank him for that when he’s not actively dying.

He slipped on the green gauntlets as he ran to catch up with Bruce, mask being the first thing he had put on. Percy smiled as he skirted to a stop, “Ready.”

After living with Bruce for most of his life, he’s gotten pretty good at noticing the small twitches and silent body language the man shows off. A tightened jaw mean he was angry or frustrated, a slight movement of his jaw was him trying not to smile or laugh. A twitch of the eyebrow was him trying to not let his frown, be that of grief or of disappointment, show. Percy had money that it was the former, but he knew why he had that reaction because Percy had the same one in the mirror.

Bruce didn’t let the frown show, he simply slipped on the cowl, letting the Batman take over, and nodded. “Let’s go.”

**********************************

I am a firm believer that Bruce and Harvey dated their junior year, broke up, but were a little too close for comfort with each other after wards that it was hard to tell if they were or weren’t together

Also—I may or may not have my own Robin!Percy design floating around some note books and sticky notes on my desk. Let me know if you’re interested at all in those, but I’ll warn you now that I am Not The Best™

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

[hanahaki-disease]

Damian calls Percy "Baba" it happens completely by accident and unexpectedly. It's just that Percy comes to Wayne Manor for the weekend and cooks breakfast with Alfred in the morning - these are blue pancakes with honey and berries. He puts a plate in front of Damian and bends down to kiss the top of his head, and Damian, sleepy and distracted, purrs in response and says softly, "Thank you Baba." Alfred almost drops the jar of honey, and Percy just smiles gently and says: "Sure, My little Agapi". Since then, Damian calls Percy "Baba" and no one acts like it's something wrong.

One day Damian gets seriously injured, which causes him to be given serious painkillers and Bruce, to his displeasure, cannot be with him, because the Scarecrow gang seriously raged that night. But Percy is there, Percy with warm hands and a gentle voice, Percy who smells soothing of soft jasmine and sea salt, Percy who looks like Talia. Damian, in a haze, is clouded by reason, shrinks and is afraid, behaves like the child he is and calls his parents. Percy is lying next to him, hugging him tightly and lovingly stroking his hair. And Damian snuggles up to him, quietly whimpering "Umi" or "Baba" at different intervals and Percy quietly sings to him "Under the Sea" from The Little Mermaid, with his quiet and soft voice it sounds like a sweet lullaby. And Damian allows himself to relax by falling asleep in his father's arms and listening to his gentle singing.

Percy is called by Greek nicknames - "Agapoula Mou" my little love, "Louloudi Mou" my flower, "Moro mou" My baby. Damian liked Greek and decided to learn it. Percy actually shed tears when Damian began to wear a Greek patronymic derived from the full name of Percy - Perseides, the child of Perseus.

Damian has two sets of parents: his biological parents and his “adoptive” parents, though one technically also counted as biological as well.

With Bruce and Talia, Damian knows he is safe and protected. Never once does he have to worry about being hurt or targeted (and being Robin doesn’t count.) He knows that the two of them would go through hell to make sure he is safe (not that the others wouldn’t either.) With Bruce and Talia, he doesn’t have to worry about money. Doesn’t have to worry about food or clothes or anything else his heart desires for his parents are royalty in their own right.

Damian knows he is safe and protected by his mother and father.

With Percy and Annabeth, Damian knows he is loved. Never once does he have to question the affection they give (and he knows his other parents love him as well.) But there was no need to compete for attention, no sibling to compare to, no legacy to uphold. Damian can be his touch-starved, parental-affection-seeking, slightly selfish, child self.

Damian knows he is loved and wanted by his baba and ummi. Even if they are just barely a decade older than him, even if the scars on their bodies are the same as his own, Damian knows he is loved.

Damian was used to nightmares. He was used to waking up with a fast heart and dry throat. To adrenaline and panic making his eyes shoot open to a dark room and quiet night.

At father’s, he wasn’t the only one who experienced them, but rarely was he aware of the reactions the others had. The others would stay in their own space, silent and wallowing in the memory of what they saw.

At baba’s, it was different.

Maybe it was because he was the only child in the small two bedroom apartment (Estelle spends her days with jidda Sally, but some nights she does sleep over.) Maybe because he can hear Percy and Annabeth have their own nightmares on the other side of the wall, voices muffled by drywall and hushed by the other.

But Damian knows that should he wake up scared and frightened, baba and ummi would never push him away. They’ll welcome him into their bed and tell him stories of their adventures when they were younger. Ummi will rub his back in circles, interjecting to correct the tale, and baba will use his powers over water to make it come alive.

And when sleep takes over, the weight of his eyelids heavy and the warmth that came from being held safe in their arm, Damian doesn’t have to worry about another nightmare.

Percy becomes the dad he wanted to have as a kid to Damian. And it’s not a hard bar to jump over even if the competition is Batman.

[hanahaki-disease]

Talia caught the recorder with an elegant and quick movement, it was modest and simple, small, light gray and its only bright feature was a bright blue bird drawn with a felt-tip pen. Neatly and meanderingly, Dick Grayson couldn't draw to save his life.

Richard grinned at her: "Percy said that he likes his birth name, even if it's a little pretentious and he especially likes the middle name, Bulbul, the one you gave him."

Talia had already understood everything, the recorder was firmly and lovingly clutched in her hand. When she was returning to her yacht on the roofs of Gotham, from the dictaphone that was securely attached to her belt, she could hear singing - the beautiful voice of a young man singing "Sleepsong". Her so... brother really had the voice of a nightingale.

For a while, I’d think, Talia would replay the recorded over and over again, if only to already have the song committed to memory.

It’s go like this I think:

And some days she aches to meet him, to reach out to her Beloved or one of his many children, and have them set up a meeting for between them. Even if it is only for a short while. But she knows that her father was watching her, carefully observing her and her squadron’s every move. Wondering where and why she has spent so much time away, trying to solve the mystery of her current separation from the House of al Ghul.

It’s because of her father, who she loves dearly but knows isn’t kind and chooses mercy when it benefits him or his plans, that keeps herself away from Bulbul. It’s why she lays in the bed she’s made, holding tight to the heavy pillow, pressing rewind and play over and over again. Letting her head and heart live in the delusions that the weight in her arms was him (or her young habibi who she aches to hold one more time in her arms.)

For if this is the price to pay to keep him safe, to keep the toxicity of the pits out of his veins and keep his head clear of the insanity that it brings, then she would pay it tenfold.

Just don’t take away the sound of his voice. It is the only thing keeping her afloat.

Hope you liked it!!

[hanahaki-disease]

Beyond the Farthest Reaches

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC Crossover

“You? You!”

Summary:

Chance meetings don’t exist, not in this world.

Set during “And You Wonder What I Believe”

***************************************

He hopes he lost the skeletons somewhere behind him. The maze of solid concrete hallways and tubes lining the walls the further into the dam were making him lost as well, but he couldn’t afford to get lost. If he gets lost, he won’t be able to make it back to Thalia, Grover, Bianca, and Zoe—who were most likely unaware of the skeletons that had found them once again.

The footsteps of the skeletons matched that of the regular mortals in the underground tunnels. Shuffling feet, heavy boots. It was hard to distinguish who was who, but he kept his back to the wall, Riptide in hand as he made his way down the hall.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a figure pop up out of nowhere and he swung on instinct. If it was a skeleton that would buy him some time to book it further down the hall to the elevators. If it was a mortal, he’d have to come up with an excuse real quick. His sword ran clean through the body he recklessly swung at, feeling no hesitation of any sort of flesh or reanimated bone.

Percy, for a split second, wondered why nothing happened, but the head of familiar firey red hair caught his attention. “Dare?”

“Wayne?” She stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Is that—why do you have a sword?”

“No time, I need to hide.” Behind him, Percy could hear the rattling of the skeleton monsters. They were closing in on him and he wouldn’t be able to make it all the way to the elevators if they spotted him. Rachel pushed him into the girls bathroom before he could say anything. Her voice, though shaky and uncertain, commanded the monsters to keep searching for him. Leading them away from the only exit he had.

“Start talking, Wayne.” He stumbled out when the door opened. “What the hell were those things? And why do you have a sword?” His eyebrows furrowed when he looked down to riptide in his hands.

“Wait, you—you can see this?”

“Yes! Now, explain, before I call your dad and ask him why you tried to slice me in half.”

He capped the sword, eyes wide as he wrestled Rachel for her phone. They had spoken a few times when she went with her father to a gala, looking bored as hell with a bag full of travel sized art supplies and contraband in the form of single-patty cheeseburgers from a local Big Belly Burger. Being the only kids in the venue, her, him, and Tim had stuck close together till Rachel had begun voicing her opinions on the vigilantes.

Percy had no issue with it, often agreeing and building upon her thoughts, but Tim didn’t like it. Which would then escalate into them disliking each other and often antagonizing the other. And because Tim was his best friend and brother, he had to side with him when going against Rachel.

“Don’t call him!” He yanked her phone from, holding out his arm to keep her from grabbing it. “Look, I’ll explain later, I don’t have time right now. I’ll tell you next time you’re in Gotham or I’m in New York, but I have to go and you can’t tell anyone what you saw or that you saw me.”

“What?! Your brother—”

“I know! I know he’s looking for me, but he can’t find me, okay? Trust me.”

She looked like she wanted to argue more, to press further and get the answers she wanted now. But a flash of green lit up her irises for a split second, faster than Percy could register, and she seceded. Sighing as her arm fell to her side. “Fine. But if I don’t hear an explanation by the next gala I’m going to tell your dad. Give me my phone now.”

He handed it back and jogged down the hallway to the elevator. He didn’t want to leave her so suddenly with no explanation at all, but he was on a quest, a very time sensitive quest. But something in him told Percy that it wasn’t going to be the last time he saw the Dare heiress.

***************************************

Rich kids recognize rich kids.

Mseterlist | Series Masterlist

[hanahaki-disease]

Beyond the Farthest Reaches

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

“Sing Sweet, Nightingale”

Summary:

Late night lullabies bring more than just sleep.

Set after “And You Wonder What I Believe”

Continue on with “Robin? Yes, but also No”

A/N: I read on a website (I forgot the name) that Nightingales represent transformation, resilience, and the power to heal. Not to mention that they’re nocturnal birds so…the fic basically wrote itself

***********************************

Nights in the league were the only time Jason felt like he could think. There was no need to keep himself on such a high alert for Damian’s or his protection, didn’t need to train and keep himself in perfect condition. Or even keep up the act to Talia that he regained his memories, that he knew who she was and what she wanted from him.

But he can’t deny how nice it feels when she shows him affection on the days where they could stay in Damian’s quarters. Damian would practice his art on the table, the sound of his brushes scrapping over the parchment and the crinkle it made as the ink dried. Jason would sit beside him, staring off into space as Talia sat behind him on the couch, her hands running through his hair. Oils and perfumes massaged into his scalp and her voice just barely loud enough for him to hear, would hum melodies Jason never heard before. Sometimes Damian would hum along with her, matching her voice with scary accuracy before he remembers that the kid could mimic voices with ease.

Those moments were too domestic for where they were. Too calm. It sent him on edge because it shouldn’t be something that Jason should be experiencing there, in a compound full of highly trained assassins who would not hesitate to kill.

Or maybe it was because Jason was missing the moments where instead of Talia it was Bruce and instead of Damian it was Percy. The nights they refused to sleep in their own beds for reasons Jason can’t remember and they would invade Bruce’s. When Percy’s laugh filled the quiet room when Bruce poked him in he side and Jason would steal Bruce’s pillow. He remembers the repetitive ‘whirr’-ing of the ceiling fan slowly putting him to sleep, knowing he was safe next to his dad.

And in those moments, the lullaby his mom would sing to him would come back. Her voice soft and slightly muffled but there nonetheless. He hummed the melody, what little he remembers, as he stared out the windows of Damian’s room.

He wonders if he’s ever sang it to Percy, let him know what it sounded like so that he could know a little bit about their mother. To give him more than the succinct information Bruce was able to dig up. But, will he ever see Percy again? Will he be even able to sing it to him? If he stays here, sure he’ll be treated like a prince and wont be in need of anything, but then he’ll have to listen to Ra’s and Talia. He’d have to leave behind Damian when he goes on missions and who know who he’ll run into when he’s out. If Dick or Wally or Roy or anyone he knew when he was Robin.

His eyebrows furrowed. Robin. Talia told him that a new kid took over, a younger, better kid claimed his suit months after his death. Who was it again? Percy’s friend, Tim, wasn’t it? The little boy who trailed after him in the galas, never too far from Percy’s side. The kid who badgered him with questions that never seemed to end and looked at him like he was his hero. That kid was Robin now.

“Ahki…?” Damian mumbled when he felt Jason’s hand fist his sleep tunic. He had forgotten that Damian was lying on top of him, the weight of the child unnoticeable, but the kid was warm in the cold night air. He rubbed his eyes as he woke up, looking every bit the age of six as he did so.

“Sorry, habibi, didn’t mean to wake you,” Jason whispered, not wanting to disrupt the peace that came only this late at night. “Go back to sleep.”

“I cannot. I have been trained to stay awake once I rise,” Damian said as he pressed himself higher on Jason’s chest.

Jason smirked as he ran his hand up and down Damian’s back, humming that same melody as before, knowing Damian wouldn’t stay awake for long. The steady motion, the vibration of Jason’s chest, and the undeniable security that came with him watching over Damian. He wasn’t surprised three minutes later when the kid grew heavier against him and his cheek pressed further, slumping comfortably knowing he was protected.

He needs to go back to Gotham, he decides. He can’t stay in Nanda Parbat forever, pretending to be mindless when this entire time he’s been planning ways to take down the Joker. Ways to prove to Bruce the consequences of what happens when he’s not put under. Of what happens to kids who pretend to be someone they’re not.

“Sing sweet…” He hummed, his attention returning to the slow moving stars outside. Had there always been that new constellation by Orion? It looks like a hunter of some sort. “Hi~gh above me.”

***********************************

HE’S COMING‼️ARE YOU EXCITED‼️

I hope you’re excited >:]

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

[hanahaki-disease]

And You Wonder What I Believe

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“When Tim looked over to his best friend, now adoptive brother, whose made of lean muscle and gangly limbs of a growing fourteen year old boy much like him, he wonders if he would have done the same. Would he have kept it all a secret from everyone if he knew it would save them? Would he try and keep the two worlds separate because only disaster can come from them meeting?”

To further enhance your reading experience, go and read “You? You!” and “Sing Sweet, Nightingale”

A/N: this installment is like 8,000 words…I did not plan for it to be that long

*******************************************

When it comes to Percy, Tim tries not to pry. Not even after their argument when Percy returned the first time.

The first time Percy disappeared, Tim had no control and no way to help. He hadn’t even begun to train as Robin, hadn’t confronted Bruce about him being Batman, and had been in the middle of a gala when he heard the news.

Percy’s first disappearance was the one of the many reasons that made Tim push harder to become Robin, especially when he had called Dick to let him know about the news. Because Robin was able to help the justice league look for the missing Wayne child. Robin had access to information Tim Drake couldn’t see. He knew that the New York police department didn’t even follow proper protocols when it came to the search, he knew that a gang messed with the footage of the gas station explosion because one of their members had been spotted as part of the passengers.

The second time Percy disappeared, Tim was watching Percy escape the school with the weird tall kid and a girl he had never seen before from the other side of the gym doors. The entrance blocked by some kind of debris and the gym was absolutely wrecked when the first responders had been able to get in.

Tim wanted to follow him, he wanted to make sure Percy was going to be okay and not vanish off the face of the earth for months on end again. He wanted to drag him to one of the many emergency cave and interrogate him, keep him there till Bruce joined them, and continue to question him. Tim wanted to know what had happened to his best friend, and he hates that it felt like they weren’t anymore.

Percy had been his first friend, his first real friend since the younger of the two got adopted by the Batman. Their sarcastic personalities clicking together like link-n-logs, becoming brothers the moment Percy suck up on him on that rooftop. They used to be able to tell each other anything. Nonsense about their current shared brain rot, secret crushes about the girls and boys in the middle and high schools. They would laugh at the gaudily dressed women in the galas, banter with Jason and Alfred for hours on end—Percy knew Tim better than Tim knew himself, and he knew Percy better than anyone in the world.

So why did it seem like the Percy stuffing his duffle was someone Tim had never known before?

Why was he so okay to drop everything he was doing the moment that random girl showed up at the manor? How did she show up at the manor, how did she get past the security triggers and over the seven foot tall gate? None of this was making sense and Tim had been growing worried for Percy ever since he came back two years ago.

He had come back home a bit more reserved than before, a bit more angrier like how Dick had been when he found out Jason died. New scars littered his body, ones that were never reported in his files about how he had gotten them. There was an air of knowledge around him, one with matching chains of secrecy that dragged his limbs down and pulled him away from getting too close with Dick or Tim again.

Something happened to Percy on the first summer away, and it happened again this past summer and now—not even four months later—Tim was watching Percy change before his eyes.

“You—You can’t go! What about Dick? What about Bruce and Alfred?” Tim eyes followed Percy as he ran around his room, grabbing what seemed to be the most random things to put in his bag.

“Dick is said he’d be back in January, he’s on a mission with the Titans to find clone Roy,” Percy said. “And Bruce could give less of a shit if I disappeared and came back.” He zipped up one side of the bag. They must’ve fought recently for him to say that, about what? Tim doesn’t know, but it couldn’t have been good. “I will feel bad about Alfred though.”

“And I’m going whether you like it or not, Tim,” he slung duffle on his shoulder walking out the room. “Nothing you say or do will not make me go. I have to do this.”

“If you go, I’m following,” Tim said.

“No, you’re not coming with me.”

“Then you’re not leaving Percy!” Tim said. “I’m tired of you disappearing every summer. Do you know how worried we all get when you do that?! No, you don’t, cause you’re not here!” He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the roots. “God, just tell me what’s going on! I can help you, B can help you!”

“I can’t tell you, I wish I could, but I can’t.” Percy pushed past Tim towards the main stairs.

“Why not? Why can’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” Percy dropped his duffle on the edge of the stairs. He made eye contact with the girl downstairs before Percy turned his attention back to Tim. “I’m doing this to protect you, to protect all of you. This is something Batman has no chance with and even if he did, it’s not his fight. I need to do this to make sure you guys are safe.”

“And what do you think the rest of us are doing every night, huh? Playing hopscotch with Penguin and having tea parties with Scarecrow?” Tim said. “We get hurt already, hell, you’re there to help Alfred patch us up! I just…” Tim sighed. So many words were bubbling up in his chest to the point where he was beginning to feel overwhelmed by all the emotions in him.

He wanted Percy to understand that he didn’t need to do whatever it is that he’s doing by himself. Percy had so many people that could help him with the ‘fight’ he has been doing the past two years. And if he didn’t want Bruce, then Dick would do anything for him. He didn’t want Dick? No worries there’s the entirety of the justice league and their associates. Percy could literally have his pick of the litter for help and yet he’s choosing to go solo?

God.

For someone who doesn’t like Bruce much nowadays, he’s acting an awful lot like him.

“I just want my best friend back, Perce,” Tim felt his shoulders drop. The heat of his worry and anger fading and leaving him exhausted. “I want to know how to help you.”

It was quiet between them for a bit, neither of them wanting to break the fragile silence that settled in the hall. Tim could feel his heart pounding in his chest and tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t often he cried. The emotion was too overpowering and draining, not cathartic like most people say it is. He cried at his mother’s funeral, he cried when he and Percy had their first real argument, and before that? He couldn’t remember, each time he wanted to curl up under the covers of his bed and follow Percy’s lead and disappear for a while.

He couldn’t stop them from falling when Percy carefully wrapped him up in his arms. “I want my best friend back too, but I have to go.” Tim nodded against Percy’s shoulder before the younger separated, the soft shuffling of feet made their way back down the hall to where the duffle sat at the edge of the stairs.

Tim didn’t stop Percy as he made his way down the stairs. Didn’t stop him when he zipped up his winter coat and slung the duffle over his shoulders. He didn’t move from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, one hand holding onto the rail as he grabbed one set of the keys to the front door, shoving them and his favorite gold Bic pen in his pocket.

“When I get back,” Percy held down the latch to the door handle. The cold Gotham air wafting into the foyer and chilling Tim to the bone. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Ten words and the sound of the door closing left Tim frozen in his place. He wanted to shove his boots on and his coat and trail after him down the drive way. He wanted to join him in whatever he had to do, whatever was so important that he had to miss the next few weeks or months or however long.

But Percy promised him that he would tell him, Tim had his word. Percy never broke his promises.

—

A week later, looking as if he had just went against Bane in nothing but the clothes on his back, Percy stumbled into Tim’s room. The duffle he had was gone and the clothes he wore were not the same, except for his Reebok, though they had seen better days. Dark circles lined his eyes and he looked paler than he did when he left. Even during the winter months, Percy retained this sun-kissed, beach side tan. It was a warm glow that, alongside the permanent sea salt waves, made it looked like he had been raised on the shores of the Caribbean his whole life. He did not look like that when he walked in.

A bright shock of white was the first thing Tim noticed about Percy when he collapsed at the side of his bed. It still had his signature wave to it, starting at his temple and curving around and through the curls already there. For as well has he knew Percy, he knows that he wasn’t really into dying his hair. Percy liked keeping it the same length and not really doing much to it, aside from styling it for the occasional gala or press release. So then why the white streak?

“Percy?” He watched as his friend ran his hands through his hair, interlocking his fingers behind him and tucked his head in between his knees. There was a tenseness to him, one that—even if he was in one of the most secure places in the world—wouldn’t relax.

When he turned his head toward him, there was a different kind of tiredness in his eyes. A kind of defeated but accepted kind of tiredness. His green eyes were duller than they had been before he left and he sported new scars once again. Faded white lines on his hands and one that down across his jaw from the end of his ear. Percy sucked in a deep breath when he placed his head back where it had been, unclasped his hand and leaned back against the bed.

Tucked under the new gray hoodie and rumbled orange shirt was the leather necklace Percy had started wearing after that initial summer. It had only one bead then, a solid black charm and a glowing blue trident in the center. It was cool at first. The little symbol and the faint light it emitted in the dark, Tim really wanted to inspect it. But then another was added onto the string the following summer. Just like the other, it was a simple sandy-beige colored bead with a pine tree and something gold hanging off the branch. The gold glowed like the tridents, if not brighter in the dark of Tim’s room and it let him see the most recent addition to the necklace.

It wasn’t a bead like the other two, a metal bow and arrow charm with accentuated star shaped corners rested on the neckline of the shirt. Silver and shiny and brand-new, unlike the worn and handmade beads he head. Did they mean something to him? Where had he gotten them? Percy never took it off, wanting the necklace to stay on his persona at all times. Which wasn’t that strange to be honest. Bruce had a particular watch he was fond of when he wasn’t Batman, Dick had his favorite blue studded earrings he never took off, and Tim had his mother’s wedding band hung around his neck too. But, just like his hair, Percy was never one to wear jewelry. He never like having anything around his wrists or around his neck because he would get overwhelmed by the constant rubbing against his skin and neck.

So then why the necklace all of a sudden?

“Where should I start?” Percy said, picking at the skin on his fingers in front of him.

“The beginning, I guess,” Tim closed his laptop, wanting to give Percy his full attention.

“Can you promise not to tell anyone unless I say so? What I’m going to tell you is gonna change how you see everything, even the Amazonians,” Percy turned his head.

“I promise,” Tim slid down to the floor beside him.

Percy nodded his head and sighed, the words heavy in his chest before he even began, “It started with mine and Jason’s dad. Our actual dad.” He locked his fingers together again. “He met our mom seventeen years ago on the beach in Montauk, New York. A summer fling that left my mom pregnant with Jason, and he said that they would go back to the beach for the summers before I was born.

“Jason said that he’s only seen our dad twice before I was born,” He held up two fingers. “The first he said was a fuzzy memory when he was three, and then during the summer the year I was born. After that, he never saw the guy again. We kept going to Montauk till I was three, our mom died in November that year when we were passing through Gotham and Jason and I never left. That’s when Catherine and Willis found us and picked us up.” Percy gave him a quick glance at that. “You already know what happened after that.”

Tim nodded his head quietly. Percy had told him about his years living with Catherine and on the streets. The days in a ratty old apartment, smelling like cigarette smoke, burning crack and moldy walls. Where water leaked from the ceiling and his and Jason’s shared mattress was the same one Catherine shot up heroine. It wasn’t all to different from their years on the streets, they still had to forage for their own meals and take care of themselves when Catherine was too high to even remember her name and Willis was in prison. But at least with them, they had a roof over their head and place to hide from the winter.

He hadn’t known about his birth mother though.

Percy and Jason never talked about her or how they ended up in Gotham. They didn’t even tell Bruce either. All the information they had about her was whatever Bruce dug up when he took them in. Her name was Sally Jackson, a single mother of two boys living in a somewhat bad part of New York, working at a candy shop a few bus stops away from her apartment. She didn’t have a college degree since she had to drop out after her uncle got cancer, and she didn’t have her parents since they did in a plane crash when she was still in middle school.

It was the bare bones information that Bruce could get and it was the only information he had about their biological family. After Percy disappeared, Bruce had tried to dig up his birth father, wondering if maybe he had taken Percy when he had gone to the Met. Maybe the man had seen his son, wanted him back, and took him while he was with his school. But no matter how much Bruce dug, there was nothing. No name, no description, no age. It was as if the guy never existed. He had to, though, otherwise his two sons wouldn’t exist.

“Two years ago, during the field trip to the Met, I had been isolated from the group by the substitute algebra teacher Mrs. Dodds,” Percy said and Tim looked at his with a confused stare.

“There was no Mrs. Dodds in middle school, though,” Tim countered. “I would know, I have an eidetic memory.”

“No you wouldn’t have and let me tell you why,” Percy turned to face him, his hands outstretched before him. “This is the mortal world—” He gestured with on hand. “This is where you and ninety-nine percent of the earth’s population reside. You see things how they are in your head pretty straight forwards. A dog is a dog, a person is a person—unless they’re an alien—and so on and so forth, right?” Tim nodded. “This is…this is my world.” He lifted the other hand. “In my world, I see things that you cant. Dogs aren’t always dogs, people aren’t always people, and natural phenomenon is not caused by science, but by magic. The barrier between these two is what we call the ‘mist.”

“Missed?”

“M-I-S-T. Mist. It’s a magical barrier that blind the mortals from the mythical and magical monsters and people. The Amazonians are a part of my world, they can see what I can see, they can fight what I can fight, but since they’ve been so isolated to the world of man, they’re unable to see past the mist now that it’s gotten stronger since ancient times,” Percy said. “The point is—The gods are real.”

“Like, like Jesus?”

“No, not Jesus,” Percy clarified. “The Greek gods. Zeus, Artemis, Hades—they’re all real.” Distant thunder made Tim’s head turn towards the window.

“But they’re just stories, myths!” Tim leaned back on his hands. “They can’t be real and you’re just making this up.”

“If they’re not real, how is Diana the daughter of Zeus? How are the Amazonians able to live on an isolated island in the middle of the Mediterranean sea, protected by magic? How is Shazam able to channel the ‘Speed of Hermes’ and the ‘Strength of Zeus?” Percy questioned.

Tim stayed quiet. “I don’t know!”

“They can do that because the gods are real. My dad, Jason’s dad, is Poseidon, god of the sea,” Percy said. “I didn’t know that until that summer two years ago.”

He turned around to lay back against the bed again, and eyes trained on the old skateboard mounted on Tim’s wall. The words were hesitant at first, tongue stumbling and stuttering as he recall that first summer. He told him of how the cab they paid had gotten stuck by lightning, flipped and burst into flames on an abandoned back-road. How the glass dug into his skin, the heat of the fire singing the hair on his forearms, and the cold rain digging into his bones and blinding him.

There was a smirk on his face as he spoke about the first monster he defeated. The Minotaur from the legends. He was big, apparently, seven feet tall, four feet wide at his shoulders, and just a mass of coarse bull hair and bright, white fruit of the loom underwear. Tim couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips at the mental image. The monster of the labyrinth? With tidy-whities?

His smile remained as Percy spoke about camp. The automatic camaraderie from the campers who just simply understood everything he had gone through and will experience. The children of the Hermes cabin, those claimed and unclaimed, welcomed him with open arms, teaching him all that he needed to know about life at camp. And while the nights were lonely and filled with nightmares, they’d fade away the moment the morning conch woke them up and started their day.

“The Friday of my first week was when I got claimed by my dad in the most show-offy way, I swear,” Percy chuckled as he threw his pen towards the cup on the other end of the room. They had been getting restless as they talked, Percy especially. He had taken to messing with anything he could get his hands on, a spare wheel for Tim’s current skateboard, the aglets of Percy’s laces, the gold Bic pen Percy always had.

“Claimed? What’s that?” Tim asked and launched his pink highlighter at the cup. “Is that like when a hospital does a paternity test for the baby or something?”

“Kinda,” Percy threw a pencil. “It’s when a god acknowledges their kids. It tells the camp and the other gods and monsters that you are their kid and, thus, have their powers or are a threat.” Percy fist bumped the air when his pencil landed in the cup, he was able to go again. “Sometimes the gods don’t claim their kids, they arrive at camp and they just stay in the Hermes cabin waiting for the day. Other kids get claimed shortly after arriving, but from what I heard that’s pretty rare.”

“Why the Hermes cabin, I though you said only kids of that god could stay in the cabin?”

“Hermes is the god of travelers, so he protects wanderers and stuff,” Percy dropped his arms against his lap. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked more annoyed than angry, if his tight voice was anything to go by. “The camp abuses that fact and shoves all the unclaimed kids in there and that’s not fair to the actual kids of Hermes and the unclaimed kids.” He throws another pencil towards the cup, watching it bounce way as it missed it’s target. “And you’d think the gods would be better with stuff like that, right? They’re gods, all mighty and all knowing, but they don’t even do the bare minimum of claiming their kids? It’s stupid.”

Tim stayed quiet as Percy continued his tale, offering comments and questions as it wore on. It felt unreal, what he had gone through at the age of twelve. (As if Tim was doing any better back then either, he was packing his bags to go a train in Paris to be Robin, so he really wasn’t one to judge.) It made the manhunt and new reports make sense too. The bus explosion was because a fury, the St Louis arch was a Chimera, and Percy was the reason zoo animals had been released in Las Vegas.

It all seemed like an impossible story, a modern Greek myth. Right down to the stages of “the hero’s journey” literature lesson. Tim had been told that there was magic that keep him blind to Percy’s world, the awesomeness of it all too much for him to comprehend. But he can imagine it pretty well. He can picture a younger Percy in his head surrounded by kids in the same bright orange shirts he was wearing, going ham on straw dummies in a Colosseum like the one in Rome. He can imagine the stone statues of the innocent lives Medusa captures, the souls in the fields of asphodel and the gems that sparkled on the food of the underworld.

He might not have been blessed with sight, but he does have a pretty good imagination.

Percy’s trip out the Bermuda triangle last years was even more impossible than the year before. First, the big kids in the gym class were Laistrygonians and Tyson was a baby cyclops and Percy’s half-brother. Which, what? How does that make sense?

“Cyclops are mainly children of Poseidon and some kind of nymph or naiad,” Percy had switched from throwing writing utensils at Tim’s empty tea mug, to trying to perfecting his batarang throw with the spares Tim had in his room. And, yes, Tim knows he shouldn’t have them outside the cave. Though people didn’t come over unless it was a gala, Bruce and Alfred did not want it to become a habit to have anything cape related in the manor. But Tim was always careful when it came to stuff like that, Percy can vouch for him.

“Why? I don’t know, but I have a feeling it has to do with his title of ‘father of monsters,” Percy shrugged before landing one bullseye. For claiming he was a terrible shot with a bow at camp, Percy had good aim. He hit whatever targets they set up with pretty good accuracy and speed, only missing the dart board on Tim’s door once. Alfred will not be happy about that when he sees the edge sticking out in the hall. “Oh, and Polyphemus, the cyclops guarding the golden fleece, is my half-brother too. I stabbed him in the eye.”

“That’s gonna make thanksgiving dinners awkward,” Tim joked.

“They’re already awkward now,” Percy pointed out. “I really don’t want to know how that’d go. Jeez. I think they’d trade me for the turkey.”

Percy continued to talk about what he did besides stab his brother. And despite being told that he was the son of Poseidon, Tim didn’t really believe him. Like, yeah, sure, Percy told him that he had perfect nautical bearings while at sea and that he could control any sea vessel while it was on water. And in theory, Percy can control water. (which, what was the limit to that? Was it just water or was it anything that contained water? Could he move poisons and toxins? Can…Can Percy bend blood?) But there is no proof of Percy doing that anywhere near Tim and the manor, therefore: Pics or it didn’t happen.

But back to Percy’s story—the fleece had done what to the magic tree? It brought the dead girl back? A part of Tim wanted to call bullshit on that, because how did that work? It went against all laws of nature to bring people back from the dead after so many years of them being in the ground. Even if the reason was magical in nature, one does not simply bring the dead back to life. Surely there was consequences for doing that right? Would it attract the wrath of Hades or Thanatos or something?

“So if you only go on quests in the summer, why’d you leave last week?” Tim pried the batarang out of the targets, small pieces of his bookshelf being pried out with each one. Alfred was going to given them so many chores for destroying the furniture.

Tim watched as the light heartedness Percy had vanished as he sat on the ground once more, the widow in front of him, the bed at his back. His knees came up and his arms were laid over them like it had been when they had first started the conversation. One hand reached to fidget with the bow and arrow charm and the streak of white in his hair seemed to glow in the dark, catching Tim’s eye.

“Last Friday, Thalia came to get me because she heard from Grover that there were two demigods that needed to be taken to camp. He said their scents were strong, like mine and hers, and it was an all hands on deck situation,” Percy said, dropping the charm before he began to spin his pen as an alternative fidget. “Me, Thalia, and our friend Annabeth went to upstate New York where we met Nico and Bianca, later we find out that they’re children of Hades.”

“We tried to save them, but there was a problem.” Tim placed the weapons in their case, his focus mainly on Percy. “There was a manticore and so many monsters that the three of us were getting out numbered. Thankfully the hunters of Artemis were able to come in, but, we lost Annabeth.”

“What do you mean?”

“She tackled a monster down into a trench and went missing for the week, eventually we found her, but I had to go on the quest given to the leader of the hunters, Zoe.” He had that dull look in his eyes again. No doubt the memory replaying in his head. “Her quest was to save Artemis, who had also been missing the for the past month, and it lead her to Mt Tamalpais where Artemis and Annabeth had been held hostage by Atlas.”

Incredulously, Tim cocked his head as he made his way to sit next to Percy. “Atlas? The guy who hold up the sky?”

Percy nodded. “He was set free by Luke because Kronos told him to. He really wants his general to lead his army or something. Anyway, Luke took over the weight of the sky and Annabeth was placed under it to save Luke.”

“Why though? The guy sounds like a total asshole, no offense ,” Tim commented.

“Oh, no, he is an asshole,” Percy agreed. “Luke is like her big brother, them and Thalia had come to camp together and she looks up to him the way we do to Dick. But, Luke is angry at the gods. He hates that they don’t care about us and wants them to fall so Kronos can take over, he doesn’t realize though that once Kronos gets his way, Luke’ll be thrown away like yesterday’s trash, ya’know?”

Tim nodded. He understood where Luke was coming from, after all, his own parents didn’t really care for him that much anyway. He knew they loved him, he knew they cared…in their own…special way. But he can’t imagine wanting his parents’ downfall because they weren’t there for Christmas every year. It was as if he summoned Trigon to smite them because they didn’t go to his third grade recital.

“Back to the story,” Percy said. “Once they got Annabeth to mt Tamalpais, He used the affection that she still had for him to have her take the weight instead. I think she was there for almost a whole day before they brought in Artemis. Eventually Artemis switched with Annabeth because she could last longer than a demigod, and also because she’s a maiden goddess of women. She’s gonna want to protect her as best as she can.

“Luke also knew that I would go where ever Annabeth was because, besides you, she’s my other best friend.” Percy rubbed the back of his neck and Tim smirked. Even in the dark of the night, with only the light of his singular lamp to light the room, Tim could see the tips of his ears turn a bit pink

He liked her, he just doesn’t want to admit it yet. Tim will file that information away for black mail for later.

“So by having her and Artemis there, Luke was using them as bait?” Percy nodded.

“Kronos wants me to be his meat suit,” he admitted. “Since I’m a child of his strongest children, I’ll be able to withstand the sheer amount of power that comes with hosting a titan. Especially since with my powers I basically control seventy percent of the earth, I can cause hurricanes that devastate the ground, and earthquakes to strong I could sink the Philippines.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting.” Tim nodded his head. Okay, maybe he didn’t want Percy to prove it. Like, it’d be cool for him to make the ground move a little, or raise the entirety of the pool water in the back gardens. But if he uses too much power? If he looses control? Tim doesn’t want to be the reason the docks get over flooded and the bridges collapse, even if it wasn’t him who did it. “How’d you guys get to there anyway? It took you a while to get across country on your first…quest, so wouldn’t it have taken you the same amount of time this time around?”

“You’d think but, we had more help this time,” Percy began explain how he made it across the county in a week. First he flew on Pegasus horseback, then boarded a magic train that took him to Colorado. While there he rode a magic boar that took him to Death Valley.

Percy paused once he got there though, the flow of words coming to an abrupt halt and an apprehensive bob of his Adam’s apple. It was clear that something shifted in Percy after that night. A realization of some kind, an acceptance to a truth and a guilt chaining him where he sat. Still, Percy continued on. His hands holding tight to his arms as they crossed atop his knees, the pen long forgotten somewhere on the floor.

First he described the sky, how the stars were so bright and every constellation made their appearance. He was able to trace Gemini and Corvus, point to where the little dipper ended at Polaris. Tim had never known a clear night sky like that, be he can imagine it. All the stars glittering without the smog and lights of the city to dim them.

“We got stuck in the desert for a bit though, in one of Hephaestus’s junkyards,” He held tighter to himself. “It would have taken longer to go around and we didn’t have the time for that, so we went through it. It was cool at first. All the machines and weapons and trinkets, you would’ve had a blast. But we didn’t know there was a giant mech made to protect the stuff.

“One of us had grabbed something and it woke. We tried everything, no one took anything, or at least we didn’t think anyone took anything” Percy rested his cheek against his arms and Tim could see his eyes grow glossy. Tears springing up and threatening to spill as he spoke.

“We lost Bianca, Nico’s sister,” Percy whispered as a tear made its way down his cheek into the sleeves of his jacket. Just like Tim, Percy wasn’t one to cry much. Preferring to express himself in solitude of his room or one of the various hideouts he had in the manor. Last Time he saw Percy really let his emotions go was when Jason died. Tim heard his voice grow hoarse with his cries, his face red and eyes puffy from crying.

Now that he’s thinking about it, Tim remembers the weather being all weird during Jason’s funeral. Small earthquakes rippled through Gotham for a while, rattling the glass of every window and nearly collapsing a few old buildings. The water in the harbor rose higher, the boats in the bay nearly capsizing. Not to mention the hurricanes that devastated a few cities in the south, the record high waves in the ocean.

Was that Percy doing that? Was it him and his father grieving the loss of a brother and son?

“And I…I promised Nico that I’d keep her safe—” He dropped his head, arms reach over his head to pull at his hair. Tim could hear his sniffles, the stuttering breaths that kept him from pulling in a full breath. “I told him that I would bring her back to camp, but she—she sacrificed herself to make sure the rest of us didn’t die there.”

Percy lifted his head and wiped at his tears, trying to could himself together. “Gods, he was so angry with me.” Percy said. “He hates me now, ran off and we can’t find him now. But I promised him that I’d keep her safe. I promised that she would come back!”

“You did what you could, Perce,” Tim sat closer to Percy, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He’ll be honest, he wasn’t the best when it came to comforting someone under emotional distress. The most he can do is a stiff pat on the shoulder and a robotic “there, there.” But he has to do something to help the guy, he can’t just leave him to wallow in guilt and anger like Bruce tends to do six days out of the week. “You protected her until she had to protect you, that’s how it goes sometimes. Especially in our lives.”

“I know, but I just wished Nico hadn’t run away,” he sniffled, wiping the tears off his cheeks. “He’s a son of Hades, monsters are going to be after him and he’s only ten. He can’t fight. He wasn’t in camp long enough to know how to defend himself. I just—“ he cleared his throat. “I just don’t want to be the reason something bad happens to him. He left the one place that safe for kids like us because I got his sister killed.”

There was a lull of silence between them and Tim could feel the guilt weight down heavy on Percy. He didn’t like that all of this has happened to him, hates that they’re only fourteen and already they have lost so much. Tim understands what Percy’s going through, he knows how the chains of guilt and regret feel around his limbs. Because how many lives could have been saved if Tim was just that much faster? If he was that much smarter? How many parents could have lived to see their children get married, graduate college, or even celebrate the next Christmas with them? How many kids will never go to school again, never see their friends or family, never age? All because Tim couldn’t save them in time.

Dick explained the guilt that come attached to this life, of knowing that they had the power to save them, but they couldn’t. He told him that every person they couldn’t save was another link on the chain. Dick also told him that, while they should be upset they couldn’t help them, their death shouldn’t hold them back. Yes, it was tragic. Yes, it’s good to feel guilty and sad and angry that they couldn’t do more. But he couldn’t let it consume him, Tim can’t let their deaths keep him from saving every one else.

A few more moments passed, and Percy’s breaths were even again. His voice still had that post-cry warble to them, no doubt the lump in his throat the cause for that, and his eyes were red and puffy from the cry. “When we got to the mountain, we found out that Zoe is one of Atlas’s daughters. She lost her place as one of the Pleiades because she helped Heracles in the ancient times and got banished, joined the hunters to avoid men and protect women since she couldn’t go back.

“There was a big fight between us and Atlas and Luke,” Percy said. “Zoe needed Artemis’s help to stop Atlas, Annabeth and Thalia were preoccupied with Luke and his minions, but she was still holding up the sky. If she dropped it, it would crash against the earth and kill us all.”

“Did you hold it for her?” Percy nodded. “Is that how you got the…?”

“Demigods who hold up the sky are given the streak of white as a trophy, that they were strong enough to not be crushed by its weight and understand the prison in which Atlas is chained to,” Percy said turning his head so that Tim could see it. Like some kind of magic anime girl, the streak of white seemed to glow in the moonlight. A silvery tint highlighted the black curls around it, as if Artemis was helping him show off this feat of strength. “Luke and Annabeth have more in their hair than I do since they held it for longer, but eventually we got Atlas back under the sky, not without consequence though.”

“What happened?” Tim furrowed his eyebrows.

“We lost Zoe. Atlas stabbed her in the fight when she was protecting Artemis. We tried to save her on our flight back to camp in Artemis’s chariot, but she didn’t want to be saved.” Percy got up from his spot and motioned for Tim to follow him to the window.

It was a clear night for once. The gray clouds didn’t cover the ark blue of the night sky and, most importantly for this demonstration, the stars. Bright twinkling lights of various sizes and brightness, some strung together by the human mind over the centuries. He tilted his head around, scanning the skies for a second before he stood back and pointed in the direction he was looking. There in the sky, near to Orion, was a new constellation. A set of stars Tim had never seen before. “Artemis turned Zoe into a constellation, she loved the stars and told me she didn’t like how in modern times we couldn’t see it anymore. It’s called ‘The Huntress.”

“Wow.” Tim gaped at it and he could see her figure in the sky. Her arm outstretched, and arrow notched in the bow ready to fire. It was beautiful.

“Yeah.” Percy sat on the bed, shoulders slumped and his body language timid. “That’s all that happened but it’s not what I’m most worried about.”

Tim took one last look at the constellation before joining him on the bed. “There is this prophecy that says a child of the oldest gods is going to fight Kronos when they reach sixteen,” Percy says. “It’s said that they’re either the catalyst for the fall or the survival of Olympus.”

“At first we didn’t know who is was going to be about, the prophecy was spat out a few decades ago. But then I showed up and everyone thought it was me,” He said. “We thought it would have been Thalia since she got revived by the fleece and she’s fifteen, but she joined the hunters and is now immortal. Bianca and Nico could be chosen, but Nico’s ten, and Bianca’s…”

“So that leaves you again.”

“Yeah.” He nods and takes a breath. “I don’t want this to fall on Nico, he’s already lost his sister and he’s so young.”

“But if you’re going against Kronos, the Kronos, you’re gonna need all the help you can get Percy.” Tim says.

“I know, and no I don’t want Bruce to know.”

“But—”

“No! This isn’t league business, it’s not Batman business. This is demigod stuff,” Percy stood up. “You guys can’t even see the monsters I fight, how are you going to protect yourself if you don’t know what you’re fighting? Mortals can’t see through the mist, they can’t get blessed with sight, unless they’re born able to see it.”

“And how do you know I can’t?” Tim crossed his arms.

Percy dug into his pocket and pulled out his pen and uncapped it. “What do you see me holding?”

“A baseball bat.”

“Wrong. It’s a sword.”

“No, you’re lying.”

“No I’m not, you just can’t see it. You can’t even feel it when I hit you with it, it goes right through you because you’re mortal. Bruce is mortal. Alfred and Dick and Barbara are mortal.” The bat changed back into a pen. “You guys could die trying to fight in my war and I won’t let you.”

“If you don’t want us to fight, then why are you telling me?” Tim said.

“Because you’re my best friend and my brother and I miss you!” Percy yelled. Whatever anger that was growing dissipated with the confession and he just looked defeated and tired again. “I missed just hanging out with you like we used to. And I can’t do that if you’re wondering where I disappear off to in the middle of the day cause I’m fighting a hell hound during fifth period.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want anything to do with me anyway when you said I wasn’t mean to be Robin! You’re the one who instigated it.”

“Because if I didn’t then you wouldn’t stop questioning me about what happened! You would try and tell Bruce, and then Bruce would try and take over and be a general to a child army of the gods. I don’t want that! You guys save the world all the time,” Percy said. “Can’t I save it just once without him?”

“You could’ve been Robin thought, I don’t see why you have to fight the titan of freakin’ time!”

“I don’t have a choice Tim!” Percy yelled. “Do you think I want to fight him? That I want to be the deciding factor of if Olympus falls and the world gets overruled by the titans and sent back to the stone age?!” Tim stayed quiet, watching Percy’s arms flail to accentuate his words. “No! I don’t, but I don’t have a choice. The sisters of fate have already said that I have to do it, and bad things happen to those who go against fate. And it’s bad enough that kids of the big three are essential cursed from birth now, I don’t want to tempt fate any more than I should.”

“What do you mean ‘already cursed?’ did something happen?”

“Yeah. World War Two. One side had the children of Zeus and Poseidon, the other the children of Hades, and they decided that—for the safety of the world—to not have kids since. They swore of the river Styx, which is the strongest bind of all kinds, and if you break it, bad things happen.” Percy answered. “Zeus broke his oath and Thalia died, Poseidon broke his oath and Jason died and I get stuck with eternal bad luck.”

“But what about those other kids you mention, Bianca and Nico, aren’t they cursed too?”

“Technically no, they were born back in the forties before the oath—” Tim opened his mouth to question. “Time magic and a casino in Vegas, I told you about it earlier.” Tim closed his mouth. “The point is Tim, I don’t want to be the center of the biggest prophecy of the century, but I have no choice. And it puts my mind at ease knowing you all can’t get hurt because you don’t know anything. Yeah, you guys can handle your own, obviously, but you can’t handle this.”

“You guys protect Gotham and the world and me from everything else,” Percy sat down next to Tim again. “Let me protect you guys from this.”

Tim let the words circle his head for a moment. The moon was way over head now, the stars outside the window shifted to the other half of the manor and he was kinda upset that he wouldn’t get to see Zoe’s constellation from his window. Logically he know that new stars didn’t just appear out of nowhere, they were already there in the sky, but to think that they had been just assembled into the constellation all of sudden was mind boggling.

Maybe Percy was right. Maybe the gods were real and that’s why strange things happen, it surely would explain Diana’s immortality and the other Amazonian’s abilities. It does explain where Percy’s been and the scars he has, why he’s good at sword fighting in the cave and why he acts like he knows more than anyone else.

Well, it’s because he does, Tim thinks. His brain had to process both normal mortal customs and that of the demigod world. He has to remember all the mythological monsters and gods, the heroes of old and how their stories help or hurt him now. He has to train all year around because the monsters won’t stop going after him because it’s a school day. No wonder some nights Percy’s wide awake, tired and sleepy, but adamant about not going back to sleep. He probably has nightmares that keep him up the same way it does for him and Bruce and Dick.

When Tim looked over to his best friend, now adoptive brother, whose made of lean muscle and gangly limbs of a growing fourteen year old boy much like him, he wonders if he would have done the same. Would he have kept it all a secret from everyone if he knew it would save them? Would he try and keep the two worlds separate because only disaster can come from them meeting?

“Okay.” Tim breathes. He would. Tim would be doing exactly what Percy is doing now because, ultimately, Tim can’t do anything to help. He can study the old myths all he wants, he can read the Odyssey and every variant of every myth ever, but he’ll never be able to cross the line that separates Percy’s world from his.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” He confirms. “You do what you have to Percy. I’ll try and help as much as I can with my puny mortal mind and body—” Percy breaks into a smile and snorts, pulling a smile of Tim’s own on his lips. God, how long has it been since he’s seen Percy smile like that, like when they were kids. When the duty of didn’t Gotham bind him to a mask and place the weight of the sky in his hands. “And I’ll try my best to keep B off your back. But can you promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“Promise me when you’re out on quests, saving the world, doing your thing as the son of Poseidon,” Tim says, holding out his pinkie. “That if you need help, of any kind, you won’t hesitate to call?”

Percy stared at his finger for a second, no doubt running through the possibilities in his head, but instead he wrapped his own little finger around Tim’s. “I promise.”

*******************************************

I love the relationship I’ve built for Tim and Percy, their characters (both canon and in this au) are just *chef’s kiss*

Also, I hope the rants they have are in character. They’re both those type of characters that it’s easy to accidentally write as their fanon-self and not their canon.

Thank you for reading!!!!

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