Gonna try and sneakily post after dnd let’s see how fast I can yeet this up 👀 new chapter!!
(I was kinda considering pushing out the porn parody to push me over one million words on AO3, but I have to be in the mood to write good smut, whereas I’m damn near always in the mood for crack, so here we are
The porn parody has been started though, and the first chapter is edging its way to completion. I will be starting an entirely new taglist for the porn parody though, so do say in the comments here if you would like to be tagged in the first chapter of that!)
I got to use a little of my actual real life work knowledge for once in my life, instead of my unending stash of random knowledge 👀 it’s a bold new world and I bet you ANYTHING Bruce never documents his code
Eleven million backup plans for if marshmallows take over the world, but someone else sits to debug the batcomputer? Zip. Nothing. Fuck them if they can’t read Bruce they aren’t authorised to touch it
As may be rather obvious… We’re right up in the bats again this chapter, and Bruce is going to make some Inadvisable Decisions 😈
I’m sure this will have absolutely no consequences whatsoever! This chapter also came in a little short, since there’s not quiiiiite enough space left to squeeze in our next scene, Danny Attempts To Make Jason Kill Him In A Motorcycle Accident
This means we should not brick ANYONES’ tumblr! (Like that’ll happen, my poor mobile using fellows)
Note: there is a reason why I’m choosing when to use our various vigi’s human names while they’re masked, I didn’t miss one on the “edit” that is formatting this mess for Tumblr 😁
First Chapter and AO3 link:
Previous Chapter:
——————
One Fine Day In The Middle Of The Night
About twenty minutes after dropping Danny off at his dorm, Jason was suited up and ready to go.
Well, he’d stayed outside until he’d seen Danny shut the door behind him first. Jason had some fucking manners, though if pressed he couldn’t name who’d taught him them.
It was a habit older than the streets, watching to be sure his friends got to safety.
Danny’s dorm was about fifteen minutes from one of Jason’s better safe houses, as it happened. Jason had never been to a dorm, but from Danny’s stories?
A step below Teen Titans’ bunks, and those had sucked. Less privacy, smaller rooms, and more people? Who weren’t even part of the same team?
Maybe next semester Jason could offer to let Danny move in. He didn’t need need the safe house.
Red Hood could always buy the building. There were other apartments and while they weren’t luxurious, they beat half his other spots. The neighbourhood wasn’t bad either.
It’d be nice to pay Danny back a bit. Not have him closer. Just. Repay some of the debt by giving him a place to stay, rent free.
And maybe, just a little bit, the part of Jason that enjoyed the romanticism of his period novels kinda liked the idea. An estate for the king on your lands was a big deal back then.
A slightly more modern part of him thought being a landlord for his ruler would also be pretty funny. He figured Danny would enjoy that side too.
And it wasn’t like the guy could complain, since he’d literally given Jason back himself. Yeah, Jason was gonna pull that one out if Danny tried any familiar “oh I can’t accept this” on him.
Fixing his core was pretty damn god level on the favours spectrum. Jason could do whatever the hell he liked and Danny would just have to deal with it.
It cheered him up a little more, kept him in a good mood on the ride back to his safe house. It was more time where he couldn’t help Cass, but seriously?
Danny could change in a matter of seconds and be at her side not much slower. Walls, cars, goons, Jason had this feeling that none of it would slow Danny down.
And yeah, knowing that helped, but there was still a piece of him that only unknotted as he slid his helmet on and headed to the window.
“Hey, Black Bat. Busy?” He asked as the comms switched from earpiece to helmet display.
Of course he wore both. People kept trying to steal his damn helmet. That was also what the internal explosives were for.
The others all piped up when they heard him, Harper and Steph calling cheerful greetings around an ongoing conversation.
“Shit, Hood’s in, this mean I can go back to bed?” Bluebird teased. Spoiler cut her off immediately.
“Hell no, it can’t be a school night, Robin’s here! Great timing though Hood, we’re planning Red Robin’s eulogy and you have some experience there,” Spoiler chirped brightly, and Jason hesitated.
Sucked in a breath. He wasn’t gonna judge anyone else’s coping mechanisms until they got past “heads in a bag” levels.
Best to ignore it, since she wasn’t actually trying to set him off.
What the hell had Tim done since they’d left the manor?
Shaking his head, Jason settled into Red Hood and hopped onto the fire escape, scaling easily to the roof.
“Black Bat?” He repeated instead of answering, and half smiled when Spoiler groaned dramatically.
Black Bat answered in the considerate group pause.
“Not busy. Why?” She sounded amused, not even particularly tired, and Jason relaxed enough to slip all the way in.
“Thinking of going a little out of my way tonight. Wondered if you’d mind a tagalong?” Red Hood asked, hoping he sounded casual.
It wasn’t like he’d been planning to patrol the Alley anyway; his guys had already been told to handle it. He’d have to run around tomorrow night to keep the creepers scared, but he could have a couple off.
The tiny pause before her answer didn’t quite feel like judgement, but Jason muted before blowing out the sigh as she did. It wasn’t like the others needed to know he’d been stressing.
“Sure. Meet at library?” She’d had his tracker up. Hood nodded, turning and running for the edge of the roof.
“Sounds good.” And they’d probably wound Spoiler up enough, she’d start plotting vengeance for being ignored soon. “So what the hell did Little Red do?”
“Brought Too Fine to the Bat Cave,” Spoiler told him with relish, not noticeably put out by the delay.
Not necessarily a good sign, since she was also this enthusiastic while actively plotting against him.
Wait.
Too Fine was Tucker’s hacker name.
“But he doesn’t know about us,” Red Hood said with a frown, catching an outcropping and swinging on.
“Oh, now you tell me,” Tim groused while the others snickered, “what a shame you didn’t think to when it’d have actually been helpful!”
News to Hood that he was on, probably still in the cave.
“He knows now,” Nightwing chimed in brightly, probably also travelling from the slight strain in his voice.
Hood paused for a moment, letting that sink in before attempting the next jump.
“Is he on comm?” He asked warily, because if Tim brought Tucker to the bat cave, it was entirely possible that they were all outed.
And that Tucker might tell Danny he was Red Hood.
Shit, he still had to text Harley. Resolving to do it once he hit the library, he set back to running, throwing himself across another street.
Black Bat would probably take a little longer to get there.
“He’ll be back, he’s in the bathroom,” Tim explained with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “It’s not all bad, he’s given me the full story on what happened in Amity Park. Witness account and all.”
“From a witness you let down to the bat cave~” Spoiler sang sweetly across the air.
Red Hood could hear Oracle rolling her eyes as she cut in.
“Tone it down, Batgirl. Bluebird, if you’re still thinking of heading in, could you swing past one last site on your way?” She said firmly, then lightening her tone for their current guest.
“Batgirl who? I’m Spoiler,” Spoiler grumbled, but didn’t push beyond that. None of them did when Oracle invoked the name she’d had before any of them masked up.
Bluebird snickered at her before answering the question, a hint of exertion suggesting she was on the move too.
“I’m not actually in a rush to go home, O, I got all dressed up so I might as well enjoy one last hurrah.”
Right, because she’d be going back to school probably when Danny did.
Harper had always been a damn good hero in Jason’s books, but she valued her retirement and none of them really wanted to ruin it. Unless, apparently, seven bats just had to stalk Jason’s new friends.
Hood would have apologized, but frankly if she’d said no, some of the others couldn’t have come to the gala to be a pain in his ass.
And then he couldn’t have had so much fun fucking with them.
Fine. One cool fruit basket for the Row household, and some rainbow cupcakes for Cullen. He needed practice on frosting roses anyway.
Although that also reminded him.
“Hey Bluebird, have the others filled you in on Phantom?” He asked, cutting off some more background chatter from Spoiler and Tim.
Nightwing and the girls had had hours by now.
“What, your new boyfriend?” Bluebird asked sweetly, and Hood rolled his eyes.
Probably hit the important shit then.
“Sent you a picture?” He asked instead, decidedly not entertaining that question.
Nightwing and Spoiler snickered. Hood flipped off their general directions, settling himself comfortably on the roof of the library to wait for Black Bat.
There was a short pause, the others now wondering what he was getting at. Good.
“In and out of suit,” Bluebird agreed, curiosity tinging with mild suspicion. Being out of retirement clearly wasn’t good for her.
Hood nodded, pulling out his phone and shooting Harley a quick text. It might be moot now, asking her not to mention Red Hood shit in front of Danny, but he might as well.
He still had to ask if Waylon knew. Might as well ask. And see if Tucker knew when he got back.
“I know you’re outta the game, but keep the light show to a minimum if you see him around, okay?” He asked, scanning quickly over the list Danny’d cleared for public discussion.
He didn’t know if Tucker would have mentioned it, but he might as well. Cause of death was good, but Jason personally would veto “and the effects it may have now”.
Because fuck Bruce and his need for everyone to show him their weaknesses.
Bluebird definitely sounded curious now, and possibly like she was punching someone.
“Oh? He not big on the electricity?” She wondered aloud, and Hood grimaced.
Because if they were both at Gotham U in engineering… there was actually a chance Harper and Danny would run into each other.
Danny was older, but Harper skipped a couple years and he had no idea what year Danny was in. Fuck, they might be in the same classes. He couldn’t believe he’d never thought of that.
“Not exactly. You mighta seen him around actually, he’s an engineer too. But he’s not a fan of the electricity flying around,” he explained, Nightwing making background noises that told Hood he hadn’t put the pieces together either.
Good. At least he wasn’t alone.
Bluebird made an interested hum, and probably a finishing blow considering the satisfaction when she spoke next.
“I thought he looked familiar. But then, he’s total Wayne-bait. Yeah, I can keep the good stuff under wraps if I see him around. Gonna guess he’s had some bad shocks in the line of work?”
Hood hesitated and in exactly the same instant Black Bat landed on the roof. Sam had given them all the warning about talking about a ghost’s death, so he could leave it at that.
But…
The way Danny had looked when he explained about Vlad. Yeah, he’d rather they took this seriously. He didn’t want any of his family to hurt Danny, even by accident.
“It’s how he died. He won’t spontaneously combust or anything, but it’s a bad memory.”
Silence reigned while the others absorbed that particular detail, Black Bat crossing to crouch on the roof beside him. Hood leaned over enough to bump their shoulders together.
He could almost feel concern radiating off her, which was an extra weird experience after literally feeling all of Danny’s emotions half the day.
Guess that was where Cass’s liminality was going. It made sense, kind of; despite her occasional trouble speaking, she was pretty much the clearest communicator in the family.
Having another back up way to make herself heard would only fit.
On a whim, he tried projecting comfort back to her. Black Bat didn’t seem to notice, though whether that meant more on her part or his was the question.
She leaned in and bumped him back, her expression unreadable between the full face mask and the shadows.
“Heard and understood, Hood,” Bluebird agreed after a minute, her tone unusually solemn. Hopefully Dickie would take it to heart too.
The odds of Danny running into Nightwing weren’t great if he stuck to Blüdhaven, but Dick was a nosy bastard and there was always one “emergency” or another.
Better than the odds of running into Bluebird, although Harper would almost definitely look him up at school.
Maybe Jason should warn him.
“Maybe you could build him a faraday suit,” Spoiler mused, and Red Hood snickered.
“Handy, but then we couldn’t contact him,” he reminded her and she groaned loudly.
“Hey, if we’re both techies he’ll probably have his own idea. I’ll look him up out of costume, it’s my turn to say hi,” Bluebird decided, and Hood shot Danny a quick text.
Just a heads up.
A picture of Harper, captioned “beware of sibling. May be looking you up in class”. Black Bat giggled beside him, head cocked to watch the screen.
Harper wasn’t technically one of the Waynes, but if Waylon counted she definitely had to, and it wasn’t like Bruce picked his family. Asshole.
A few minutes later he got a message back from Danny.
‘DannyP: !!!!! I know her! 😳😳🤯 She does the cool nanobots! Half our year is betting if she’s a rogue or a vigi 👀 inside info??’
Which was fair, since just knowing Jason wouldn’t be much of a hint either way.
“He knows you,” Black Bat reported to the others, Bluebird immediately bitching that she’d been ratted out.
Red Hood mostly ignored her, texting Danny back.
‘JTodd: Neither anymore. She was a vigi, but she’s retired and getting her degree. No idea if she’ll come back after.’
“Odds you’ll change sides and go rogue, Bluebird?” He asked into a pause, and very much enjoyed the momentary stumped silence. “Apparently there’s a hefty bet.”
Momentary, because everyone had an opinion on that and had to share it. Everyone except Bluebird herself, who seemed to be thinking it over.
“What’re the odds for rogue?” She asked thoughtfully, immediately defending herself as the group booed. “What! I have student loans!”
“You are my villain arc, Red Hood,” Spoiler declared as solemnly as she could through laughter.
“I’m my own villain arc thank you so much, go find your own,” he refuted with a half grin.
“Ask Phantom,” Black Bat advised Bluebird in the meantime, which was probably fair. They weren’t good at staying on topic.
She then gave Hood another gentle nudge, probably for the same reason. Flicked off her comm for a moment.
“Wanted to talk?” She asked, and yeah, they probably should get back to it.
He gave a shrug, hauling himself up and holding a hand back down to her. Definitely not feeling guilty.
They’d tell her before anything became relevant. It just.
Well.
They were a family of fucking detectives, who could never leave well enough alone, and Jason really didn’t want them questioning his humanity.
Just once, he’d like to know something about himself before anyone else did. To have time to understand and come to terms with what he was before Twenty Questions.
Cass was very good at not asking questions though. And Black Bat turned off her comm first. Tim was distracted, probably with Tucker coming back because he’d been quiet.
No better opportunity was likely to come up.
And really, she deserved the same courtesy. Knowing about herself before the others did.
Maybe she’d have some ideas on how to tell them.
Making up his mind, Hood tapped his comms and hauled Black Bat up with his other hand.
“Hey O, gonna be offline for a minute. Text if you need me or BB, we gotta be radio silent.” There were enough possible reasons for that, he didn’t bother giving one.
Just so long as they knew.
Usually he’d just turn the comm off and swear at her if she turned him back on if he wanted peace and quiet, but… well, it was nice to hear the background chatter.
Nicer when the big Bat himself wasn’t in the field to tell them to focus.
“I always need you, baby!” Nightwing called just before he clicked off, and Red Hood rolled his eyes under the helmet.
Dramatic bitch.
He looked back to Black Bat, wondering where would be the best place for this talk. She was watching him patiently, not moving.
It had been her patrol.
“Is there anywhere on your route we can talk privately?” He asked softly, a little surprised at himself. He’d been the one who wanted to wait.
But that just made it his call who he decided to tell what, and when. And Cass… he trusted Cass.
Besides, it wasn’t like he was liminal. It’d give them something to think until he was ready.
Black Bat regarded him for a moment longer, then nodded and made her way to the edge of the roof.
“Follow.”
**
The night was wearing on, but Bruce was darkly satisfied that they were finally making progress.
Constantine’s pacing (replacing his smoking; Bruce may not have bothered arguing in the cave, but even Constantine knew better than to light a cigarette in space) had finally slowed.
Something terrible had happened in Amity Park, but even the magician was grudgingly admitting it was probably over. Left permanent scars, but getting no worse.
Unless it was on a cosmic level and would be a slow seeping problem for millennia, but Alfred had Opinions about Bruce concerning himself with issues on that time scale.
There was only so much they could do in the moment.
Another survey of the city was required, and in person since even the League’s best couldn’t take clear pictures of Amity Park.
A fact which didn’t seem to have stopped the Amity Parkers from photographing and sharing pictures of each other, according to his children. Constantine hadn’t actually argued when Bruce compared it to background radiation, so it must be close enough.
He also hadn’t done more than grimace when Bruce asked if he wanted to undertake the survey personally. That was as good as an enthusiastic agreement.
First, though? First they needed to call a meeting of the Justice League, primarily the heroes located in North America.
They had been horribly uninformed of what was going on right under their noses, and if Constantine was right… Amity Park’s problems had begun to spread.
To Gotham.
To his children.
Constantine’s grumbling that it was the miasma of death that hung over the city drawing them in had not inspired confidence, and Bruce resolved to have Zatanna over at her soonest convenience to explain.
Helping Constantine put together a report on Amity Park itself had more than convinced Bruce not to ask Constantine, even if he could have done it today. The man was…
Well. Bruce wasn’t looking forward to having to run him through the JL’s classification system again. Maybe one of his children would want to go and handle the technical side.
All he had to do was finish preparing the presentation, call the League, and he could rest. It would likely take a day or two to put a full meeting together, but he could at least fill Clark and Diana in tonight.
He could sleep in between. Just for a little while.
Right after he showed Constantine how to configure the alerts from Amity Park to direct to the Justice League Dark, not the spam folder. They hadn’t sent one in years, but he was determined not to miss any changes.
That should have been the easiest part of this whole mess. It was just a simple form, with a basic test button to ensure it worked.
Nothing too complicated even for a man who’d decided “no reply needed” meant the same thing as “too dangerous for anyone but JL Dark”.
Fine. It was fine.
Bruce loved making training videos to highlight the most basic functions of a system and ensure that people actually understood what the various controls meant. Wonderful.
It meant that they could work in parallel for a while, Bruce on the presentation for the League, Constantine to fix his mistake. In a blissful silence, even.
It couldn’t last.
“It’s not working, Bats,” the magician declared, pushing back and away from his computer. Probably to pace again.
Bruce closed his eyes, breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, and made his way across to frown at the monitor.
“Did you save your changes?” He growled, doing his best not to let the irritation show. It was getting harder every time.
Constantine rolled his eyes, definitely not helping, and pointed at the screen.
“See for yerself. Look, JLD Top Priority, like ya said. And then ya hit the top button to save, and the red button to test it, and nothing happens.”
He waited impatiently while Bruce clicked through the buttons, seeing it for himself.
Constantine wasn’t wrong. That was unexpected.
Brows furrowing under his cowl, Bruce checked the deleted requests. Three test messages from “Amity Park”.
“Hn.”
“Someone’s fucked ya system,” Constantine commented dryly, sounding unduly pleased that it wasn’t his fault.
Something other than his haphazard filing had apparently been causing some of their problems. Bruce… just didn’t have the time tonight.
He nodded over to his screen instead, pulling up his wrist computer to send a private message to Tim in the cave. How long could a tour take?
Tim could find what was going wrong long before he’d have the time.
“I’ve compiled most of the presentation on creatures of the Realms. Is there anything important I should add?” He asked gruffly and Constantine sighed dramatically and flounced over.
Bruce firmly ignored Steph’s voice in his ear.
Not because he didn’t agree, whatever a “woobie” was.
He just needed Constantine’s once over to confirm he had all the pertinent information, and then he could call Clark and Diana.
Head home.
Get to bed.
“Looks fine. I should check yer damn revenant some time soon too though.”
Bruce froze, finger just above the send button on that tech request to Tim.
His fucking what.
**
Black Bat led them easily across the city, along what was probably her normal patrol route. Taking her cue from Red Hood, she didn’t rush, but soon indicated that they turn off into a small alley between two warehouses.
Hell, not even a proper alley. A gap where the buildings hadn’t quite smushed together.
Red Hood recognized the area from Nightwing’s bitching; there’d been a bust here last week, and something had cloaked the whole block from surveillance.
These days, he was almost tempted to check what Danny knew about it. Ghosts fucked with technology in ways none of the bats would find.
Black Bat stopped them half way down the gap, feet braced against one wall and her back to the other, leaving her “sitting” about twenty feet off the ground.
Hood matched her a little further down, grumbling a little at the crush. Almost a foot taller, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable position for him, but he’d held worse.
They were stable, and damn near impossible to observe. This was as good as they’d get.
“So,” he began, and immediately realized he had no fucking clue what to say.
Black Bat’s flat, expressionless mask was not helpful.
Hood wished he could pull his helmet off, just to run his hands through his hair. But they were on patrol.
Black Bat just waited, silent and patient while he wrestled with himself. Finally he decided to just spit it out.
“Danny died, and came back,” he said in a rush, glancing over to her.
Black Bat nodded.
“Like you.”
“Like us,” Hood corrected, groaned, and switched off the voice modulator. Actually, fuck it, he had his domino on.
He pulled the helmet off, balancing it in his lap. He could shove it back on if it came time to go.
Black Bat was beside him now, almost close enough to touch. Close enough to lean in and bump their shoulders together.
“One main difference,” she noted thoughtfully, then tapped her chest, “no skin change.”
Which, yeah, Jason had been hoping to emphasize before any of the family got too far down the right track.
“Right,” he agreed, leaning back to stare blankly into the smog of Gotham above them.
Fuck. How do you even say it? How do you tell someone they’re not fully human anymore?
Someone like Cass, who’d been raised to believe she’d never been human, by force. Just a weapon.
Her hand was in his now, and he couldn’t be sure if he’d reached out or she had. He stared down at their laced fingers instead.
“You know how people get when they spend too long around the pit water,” he began slowly, trying a different path.
Cass had been raised around the League of Assassins. She knew.
And took the change of topic fully in stride, nodding and giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
“Erratic,” she mused softly, her face tilted to the wall across, “unpredictable, especially if they went in.”
No one was going to say Ra’s Al Ghul was an unstable mess of a man, but no one had to. Still, how controlled he was was impressive, especially after you saw what mere exposure to the fumes did to other people.
Red Hood nodded, sighing softly.
“Danny’s parents kept it in the fridge. He was… exposed long before he died,” he explained quietly.
If he was talking about himself, he’d say “contaminated”. Hell, it was the word Danny used when explaining it to the bats.
Jason just couldn’t use it about Danny. It just wasn’t right.
Black Bat stilled, almost enough to be mistaken for a statue instead of a living being. Was that her liminality too? Or just her training?
Red Hood couldn’t stand it either way, giving her hand a gentle tug.
“He told me… being around it too long can change a person, even if they never get dunked,” he said slowly, trailing off again.
“We got dunked,” Black Bat said quietly, her hand curling more tightly around his. There was no hint of emotion in her voice, and Jason hated it.
Pulled her closer, doing all he could to project comfort-sorry-concerned-love you. Wishing he’d asked Danny to teach him to do that first.
Neither of them had really considered he’d need it, since Danny was so good at reading him. But he needed her to know she wasn’t alone.
Her shoulders hunched suddenly, body tensed to spring until her head snapped round to focus on him.
He could… he could feel surprise from her. Maybe it was working.
He gave a graceless half shrug, grinding his shoulders against filthy bricks.
Tried to project yeah it’s weird for me too, but wasn’t sure how well it came across. Anything beyond pure feelings was a little tricky for him to push, though he could usually work out what Danny was saying.
“We got dunked,” he agreed quietly, resolving instead to wrap her in love-protect-safe-safe-safe, “and sometimes… that changes you even without a flashy transformation.”
It was an awful explanation and he knew it, could practically feel her eyes darting all over his face, his posture, reading things he probably wasn’t aware he was showing.
Then she relaxed all at once, settling in and leaning part of her weight on him as well as the wall. He braced automatically to take it. He wouldn’t let her fall.
“He called it being “liminal”,” he explained softly, working an arm around her shoulders above the wall to coax more of her weight onto him. “I don’t know what it means for you yet, BB. But nothing bad. He was sure it wouldn’t be bad.”
Black Bat made a soft humming sound, obediently shuffling so he could wrap his arm around her. Looking down at their still twined hands.
“Can feel you,” she said softly, hand rising to tap gently against the red bat on his chest. “Big brother.”
It startled a bark of laughter out of him, because… well, yeah. A good way to sum up everything he’d wanted to tell her without words.
Felt a quick rush of satisfaction from Black Bat, and tried to answer it with relief-agree-protect.
“Yeah, that’s the fuckin’ weirdest part,” he agreed dryly, almost felt the rush of her giggle more than he heard it. “Apparently some liminals get this… aura around them. Sharing what they feel. I didn’t know if you would…”
What? If she’d notice? If she’d be able to feel the same things?
Black Bat nodded, head tipping up to meet his gaze once again.
“Robin? Batman?” She asked, and Jason hesitated.
He couldn’t talk to either of them about it. Not yet. Bruce would fucking push, he always did, and wouldn’t stop until he tore the secrets out of him. Damian would just run to Bruce.
But it was a valid question. And they did sort of deserve to know just as much.
For now he took refuge in what he knew, shrugging it off.
“Danny thinks they’re liminal, but… not as far along as we are.”
Not as close to death. Not as close to not being human, although technically they were both legally non-sentient, so that was fun.
“D’you really think either of them have the emotional bandwidth to share?” He tried to joke, covering the moment.
Black Bat just stared at him until he fell silent. Then nodded.
“Should tell them. No rush,” she added almost before Jason could tense, leaning back in and resting her head on his shoulder, “have been for a while, yes?”
Jason paused a moment longer, shook his head, and snickered.
“Cannot believe I ever doubted you’d be able to do the whole “emotional telepathy” thing,” he grumbled good naturedly, and Black Bat glowed with gentle amused.
“Better than you,” she told him archly, sounding for a moment like Steph when she was teasing Tim. Jason gave her a squeeze.
“Don’t I know it. But yeah, it’s not a new thing, and won’t mean anything to anyone unless one of us dies again.” Which he wasn’t going to think about.
Shit, someone said Robin was out tonight.
Nope. Not thinking about it. Robin had been patrolling for years, and as much as he whined about his solo patrol route, he never deviated.
Not after Oracle had highlighted his route on his wrist computer for him and proved she could see every footstep. She wouldn’t necessarily tell Bruce, but she’d always know.
Black Bat nodded, resting against him for a moment longer before sitting up again.
“You want to wait.” It wasn’t a question, but he felt compelled to answer.
Picked up his helmet, turning it over slowly in his hands. But of course she’d understand. She always did.
“I want to know what this means to me before I have B poking and prying into every part of my life,” he said quietly, staring into the eye slits of the helmet.
Black Bat ruffled his hair.
“Can wait,” she agreed gently, switching her position to have a hand and foot on either wall. Ready to move on. “No rush.”
Red Hood pulled his helmet back on and matched her, the pair climbing quickly out of the crack between the warehouses. It almost wasn’t worth saying, but…
“You can tell the others if they ask. I just…”
“Don’t want questions,” Black Bat agreed lightly, flipping up onto the roof. “Can ask Danny when the time comes.”
“Yeah,” Red Hood agreed, crouching beside her. “Mind if I stick with you on patrol tonight?”
He sort of hoped she’d think it was unrelated, but another moment of stillness passed across her as she regarded him.
“Until we die again,” she repeated his own words, and Hood was pretty happy she couldn’t see his face anymore as he grimaced.
Not that it mattered, another shot of amused shooting between them, followed by a much softer appreciated.
At least she wasn’t judging him for being a mother hen.
“Understand.”
**
Tim and Tucker had made quick work of the interview, and Tim was pretty much running out of questions when the batcomputer pinged with an incoming message.
Tucker gave it a longing look and Tim chuckled softly, wheeling himself over.
“Hang on. Might be one of the others out on patrol,” he explained, right clicking to pull up the monitor that tracked the bats’ various dominos out and about.
Tucker stared up at it politely, diverting his attention from what Tim was doing on the other screen, no matter how curious he was. Showing trust and all that.
It was actually really cool too; he’d not really seen a map of Gotham, and having one superimposed with little glowing lights of the various heroes on patrol was really cool.
It wasn’t really zoomed in enough to tell if Bluebird was actually in a fight, but the little blue dot seemed to be the only one standing still, so Tucker assumed she was.
How cool would that be? Watching just normal human vigilantes fight and take down bad guys?
Although off the top of his head, he could already think of a couple of things to add to the monitoring program. They might already be there, he hadn’t clicked around, but like.
Vitals were all well and good, down in the corner next to each hero’s name and the colour of their dot, but just the heartbeats? That wouldn’t tell you enough.
Tucker preferred brainwaves, because then you could tell if they’d been hit with something or overshadowed.
Although maybe it was because he’d spent his time keeping track of a guy who pretty regularly did not have a heartbeat. And it also gave him more data points for some of his cooler side projects.
Understanding the different brainwave patterns an individual made in different situations was a key part of neural mapping, and adding it to the bat’s routine would get him a ton of data.
And then they could really play Mariokart.
He’d have to ask Tim if they tracked any of that later. Not all the bats wore helmets or cowls that would support the electrodes, apparently. Although if Danny could get his hands on a domino…
Tucker was snapped back to the here and now as Tim pushed back from the batcomputer, a wry grin on his lips.
“Actually, I think this might be something you could help with, Tucker. If you don’t mind a little work on your night off?” He teased, back to Tucker’s complaints about a night of fun and tech.
Like getting to play on the batcomputer did not absolutely count as fun and tech.
Tucker beamed, excitement welling up in him and cracking his knuckles. It’d be pretty cool to assist a human vigilante too. And on a tech problem!
Gotham was fucking great. If Tim really meant it about getting him an internship, Tucker might have to see about switching schools.
MIT was great, but it wasn’t Wayne Enterprises, personal meetings, or personal tech demonstrations with Tim Drake Wayne!
“Sure! What’s going on?” He asked, shuffling over to look at the other screens now that he had permission. Making sure it was obvious he hadn’t been looking.
Resisting temptation had been hard. He deserved credit.
Tim nodded to the screen, and that? That was a message from Batman. Bruce Wayne. Batman.
Tucker scanned the message, eyes widening even as Tim spoke.
“Wanna help debug the Watchtower?” Tim asked, and Tucker clutched at the back of his chair as his heart leapt, swooning just a little.
The Watchtower. The actual Watchtower. In space. Oh he was shoving that in Danny’s face for not telling him he was friends with the Bats!
There was only one real question left.
“Will Oracle be here?” He asked eagerly, looking around the rest of the screen.
A soft chuckle played from a speaker in the bottom corner, and Tucker jumped half a mile as a masked voice spoke.
“You boys have fun with this one, I’ll keep an eye on the city. If you finish early you could walk me through that server of yours?”
Oracle.
The Oracle.
They were real, they talked to him, they wanted to talk about his locked down servers! Tim lunged to catch him as Tucker collapsed, knees giving out under the swell of emotion.
All of his dreams were coming true, all at once.
He’d never been happier.
**
Danny was having a pretty quiet night in. That didn’t used to be unusual while he was in Gotham; having time to himself was still pretty much a novelty, and he wasn’t exactly a party boy.
Of course, it was a night in with some of his parents’ inventions and recently one or two of his own, so the actual “quiet” part was negotiable.
Quiet enough not to piss off his dorm mates, but luckily most of them were engineers too. They may not always know what he was doing, but they were usually interested.
Tonight, he was alone, most of the floor still being home for the holiday. That had been one of the things he’d looked forward to most about staying behind, but…
Well, after his noisy and action packed few days… he was lonely.
He wished he’d asked Jason to stay. Just because he’d said he was going to bed didn’t mean he had to do anything of the sort.
It was just that Jason had been… tense. He’d not even gotten off the bike when they arrived, just pulling over and chatting for a minute before heading out.
Like he wasn’t fully comfortable going into Danny’s place, which was kinda fair. Unlike Jason’s apartments, Danny’s dorm was a communal space.
Even if most of his dorm mates weren’t home, there was still a chance one of them might turn up. And then Danny would have someone else bugging him about his “boyfriend”.
Nope.
Besides, he’d see Jason again at 11am (he had this horrible feeling Jason might be a morning person), so it wasn’t even all that long. He should probably just go to bed.
He should check his class schedule, actually. Work out what days he’d have free, work out when he and Jason could skip to the Zone for fight club.
Wait.
Would Jason be free.
What the hell did Jason do for a living? He’d have to ask at some point, Danny mused, logging in and taking a screenshot of his class schedule for the new year.
For now, it was probably best just to send Jason the picture so he’d know when Danny was free, and then Jason could work out a good time for them to go and it wouldn’t be Danny’s problem.
Excellent. Sheer genius.
Humming happily to himself, Danny pulled up Jason’s number and sent the picture of his schedule, with the caption:
‘Let me know when ur free for field trips 👊🏻💥👻’
Eyes closing for a moment, Danny let his awareness drift out across the city. It wasn’t something he’d done a lot; Gotham wasn’t his haunt and he didn’t want to step on any toes.
Usually he’d just expand his conscious aura if he was looking for someone, but knowing how much Jason didn’t like it… well, his passive aura covered most of the state, so reaching through the same city couldn’t be all that hard.
Right?
Frostbite could find anyone, anywhere in the Far Frozen with little more than a thought. And was convinced Danny would be able to do that with the entire Zone, some day.
Danny was a little less convinced. Past the background awareness that he was no longer in Amity Park that had taken months to fade, he’d never really paid attention to his passive aura.
It’d be too tempting to feel out the rogues, or at least react to the sudden surges of aggression and danger. But he hadn’t had anyone to protect before, and he knew Jason would feel better knowing Danny could.
That was kinda why Danny hadn’t mentioned how theoretical this particular ability was, although he had no doubt he’d recognize Cass’s energy if she came close to death.
Which meant he should totally recognize it while she was alive, well, and had more energy, right?
He had no idea where she was, which parts of Gotham fell on her patrol route, but that kinda helped. It meant he couldn’t trick himself by focusing on a particular area.
Surprising precisely no one though, he found Jason first. The other halfa almost glowed when Danny was focusing on his energy, a bubbling little ball of yellow and red.
He… was maybe with Cass? Danny’s brows furrowed, nose scrunching as he tried to focus without changing his aura.
He was definitely with one of the liminals. And that quiet little light, almost blue, felt sort of like Cass. When he forced himself not to be distracted by Jason’s brighter glow.
Eyes snapping open, Danny’s concentration broke and he frowned up at the ceiling.
Well, that explained why Jason was in a hurry to get going. He was no expert in Gotham herself yet and had no idea where the two of them were, but if he tried again he could probably work it out.
Did Jason still have a suit? Or did he call Cass in, find something he could do as a civilian to have her help?
Shrugging to himself, Danny dismissed the question and hauled himself up. Might as well get to bed; they’d be back together in the morning and he could always ask.
**
Tim was scrolling through the code for the alert messaging system itself while Tucker went through the sections that pertained to Amity Park specifically on his PDA when the other boy made a sudden, startled squeak.
Tim considered pretending he hadn’t heard, but there was a chance he’d found the answer. So he glanced over.
“Any luck?” He asked, noting Tucker’s sudden strained expression. Maybe the guy needed the bathroom actually. They’d been down here a while.
Tucker laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“So… uh… what exactly does the bug we’re looking for do?” He asked in a small voice, looking more embarrassed than Tim had ever seen.
Which… was not a proportionate response for that noise. And a question that they both probably should have thought of sooner.
He’d meant to mention it, since they’d have to explain it to the Amity Parkers at some point.
“So… remember how the Justice League never responded to an alert from Amity Park?” Tim asked not a little sheepishly himself.
Tucker nodded, not actually looking any less embarrassed himself either. That was definitely a great sign.
Tim sucked in a deep breath and forged ahead.
“So, it turns out there’s a bug in the Watchtower’s systems, where anything coming in from Amity Park gets marked as spam and funnelled straight into trash. We fixed the marking as spam thing, which I guess was user error, but it’s still-”
“All going to trash,” Tucker finished with a sigh, grimacing and shaking his head, “aaaaand I think I know why. But the timeline doesn’t make sense?”
That… that wasn’t even on the same continent as what Tim’d expected he’d say.
“The timeline?” He asked, brows furrowing, sliding over to peek at Tucker’s screen.
Tucker shook his head again, angling it so that Tim could see… a section of code that shuddered faintly in and out, almost disappearing entirely every few seconds.
That.
That was not a thing that should be happening.
Tim would have loved for it to be a simple screen glitch, but it was only that one small section of code. The lines above and below were fine, and Tucker could move the flickering chunk up and down.
“Yeah, this is your problem,” the Black man sighed, wiggling the section demonstratively, clearly aware of Tim’s shattered hopes.
Heartless man. Genius man.
“You’ve had ghosts in your back end. Probably wouldn’t even show up on an uncontaminated device. Which, by the way…” he trailed off, and Tim shook his head immediately.
“Not tonight. No changes to the batcomputer without Bruce’s say so,” Tim said firmly, since he’d already fucked up once. Might as well limit the damage.
Tucker shrugged and nodded back to the section of code.
“Okay. But this… this was definitely Technus. And that makes no sense? He’s a spirit of technology, we’ve fought him a bunch of times, but if he got into the Watchtower’s code he wouldn’t just… hide,” he tried to explain, adjusting his beret fussily.
It totally wasn’t adorable.
Tim did his best to keep up though, nodding along and thinking back over everything they’d been told about ghosts so far.
“You think we’d have noticed?” He asked, and Tucker snorted.
“He likes making giant robot bodies out of toasters, you’d definitely have noticed him on your space station,” he agreed dryly, then sighed.
Frowned down at the tablet again.
“I mean, Danny could make him do it and behave himself now, but if these changes were active during the whole Pariah Dark thing… I dunno, Technus should have been a way bigger problem. He’s not subtle.”
Tim frowned, thinking about what Tucker had said and then pausing.
“Danny could make him behave now?” He asked and Tucker pulled another face. Like he hadn’t meant to say that.
“Well, yeah, Danny’s miles out of Technus’ league now,” he tried to brush it off with a laugh, “the guy knows he’ll lose any fight so he’s really not a problem anymore. We have hackathons,” he added and Tim really wanted to know more about that.
There was just. Something off about Tucker’s answer. Not the content itself, just the way Tucker clearly wasn’t saying something.
That was a problem for future Tim though. Present Tim had a job to do.
“So can you fix what he did?” He asked the important question, and Tucker made another face.
“Dude… whoever or whatever made Technus do this, will probably notice if we fuck with it,” he said warily, and Tim shrugged.
“Whoever or whatever made Technus do it couldn’t do it themselves. How would they know?” He shot back, and Tucker chewed his lip.
Shook his head.
“Lemme text Danny. He’s the ghost expert, he’ll know how much we should worry about this,” he explained quickly, pulling out his phone and shooting off a short message.
Tim gave him his very best deadpan expression.
“How much we should worry about technology ghosts getting into space and fucking with Justice League HQ. I have the feeling the answer is “a lot”?” He offered sweetly, and Tucker snickered.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see. Might actually be alright, if this is all he touched. And, since you won’t let me juice the big computer, we’d have to scan the whole thing through my PDA. Every line of code,” he added, like Tim wasn’t already dreading it.
Tim sucked in a slow breath, weighing his options.
Touching the batcomputer? Ultimate no-no. But Tim’s personal laptop… it had access to the Watchtower’s systems, and was under Tim’s personal control.
And would let Tim go through the sensitive data himself, which the core code of the Watchtower was full of. The question was, did he trust Tucker not to install anything dangerous?
That question had been answered the second he asked Tucker to help him debug though. Clearly the guy could already put what he wanted, where he wanted, and with their current tech?
None of the bats would ever know. At least if Tim’s computer got the update, he’d have a chance at spotting ecto-infused code.
There were other computers they could use of course, old or unnetworked computers that Bruce would probably insist they start with.
Which wouldn’t be able to access the Watchtower’s servers, and couldn’t hold the whole thing to be able to run a useful check.
The answer really was kinda obvious.
Tim looked to Tucker, who’d been texting away while he thought things through.
“We can’t do the batcomputer, but is there anything you could do for my laptop tonight, or do we have to wait on Danny still?” He asked, deeply regretting that they’d gone to video games instead of the tech upgrade.
At the time he’d been planning on having a burner laptop done though, so it probably wouldn’t have been as useful.
Tucker shrugged cheerfully and slid his phone into his pocket, cracking his knuckles.
“Well, I can’t give you the full infusion to let you open Amity’s encrypted data, but I can write you a little something that should expose Technus’s code even without it,” he offered, and Tim brightened up.
“How long?” He asked eagerly, wondering if Tucker would let him watch. It’d be fair if he didn’t, Tuck had been cool about not looking when Tim played on the batcomputer, but…
Tucker smirked, flicking open a new screen on his PDA.
“How long will it take you to get the laptop down here?” He asked smugly.
Tim booked shit to the elevator.
**
Private Chat: DannyP & TooFine
2:15am
‘TooFine: Danny when tf did u have Technus hack the JL’
‘DannyP: ……. 👀 u cannot prove i did that 🚫🚫’
‘TooFine: I’m helping Tim debug the Watchtower’
‘TooFine: double fuck u for not telling me about Batman btw’
‘TooFine: someone sent all the Amity alerts to trash’
‘TooFine: if we keep talking about this I might accidentally send something to the group chat 🤨’
‘DannyP: FUCK FINE DONT TELL SAM 🏳️🏳️🏳️’
‘DannyP: after the pd thing’
‘DannyP: cw called’
‘DannyP: they hadnt been reading the messages anyway i just’
‘DannyP: shitty people track the jl y’know? and i didnt want em knowing about us’
‘DannyP: let em all think its a joke and then no one else comes an tries to use our portal to harness the realms and blow up superman or whatever’
‘TooFine: dude u fucking told me to tell them what actually happened??’
‘TooFine: pretty sure anyone tracking the jl will work that out now’
‘DannyP is typing’
‘DannyP is typing’
‘DannyP is typing’
‘DannyP: ok so maybe i didnt think that through 😔😔😔’
‘TooFine: no shit. I’m fixing the code in case any new alerts come through but it’s not like they’ll bother to call’
‘DannyP: not like they need to, frighty’s got em covered 🗡️🗡️🎃’
‘TooFine: yeah yeah. I’ll set it to ping u too’
‘DannyP: ur the best tuck 🙇🏻♂️🙇🏻♂️🙇🏻♂️’
‘TooFine: better than u deserve’
**
Across the city, Red Hood and Black Bat had stopped for smoothies. Patrol was quiet, and word on the street was that Bluebird was mostly to blame.
Nobody wanted to know why she was back and taking no prisoners, so even the docks were almost deserted.
Then again, with Riddler and Waylon snapped back off the streets, Penguin lying low in fear of Harley, and Batwoman making Two Face’s life a personal hell?
Yeah, no wonder the smaller players were lying low.
Hood had pulled his phone out to check in on the Alley in case they’d be more useful there when he noticed a message from Tucker’s private chat app.
It was from Danny.
Danny had sent him his class schedule. Told Jason to let Danny know when he was free. Like class was the only thing that’d stop Danny from wanting to see him.
Jason was so lost in staring at his phone, utterly swamped in the implications, that he didn’t even notice Black Bat finish her smoothie and swap out her empty cup for his.
Danny wanted to see him again.
He’d have to work out a proper schedule of his own.
**
Bruce was having a Bad Day. An extended bad day, one that was fast approaching 48 hours long.
As if everything with Amity Park wasn’t already bad enough, both in the past and the present, now Constantine believed there was something wrong with Jason.
That his son wasn’t fully human anymore.
Now, Bruce’s best friends weren’t even a quarter human between them, and no matter what everyone seemed to think he was perfectly happy with meta humans.
So long as they kept themselves safe.
Preferably where they wouldn’t be mind controlled, kidnapped, or held hostage every few days. Frankly being a meta was probably stressful enough even in a normal city.
But he’d keep Gotham’s metas as safe as he could, just like Duke.
But Jason… Jason had been born human. Had lived as a human, died as a human, and Constantine seemed so sure he’d come back as something else.
“Revenant” the man had called him. An animated corpse that haunted the living, powered by rage.
Bruce might even have believed it two years ago, when Jason first returned. Jason had been so angry, intent on destroying Tim when the other was just a child.
When Jason was little more than a child.
But… that wasn’t all he was. He was himself, truly Jason Todd in ways Bruce hadn’t wanted to believe. He’d fought his rage and won every day.
Most days.
And being around Amity Park, being around Daniel James Fenton, might be enough to push him back over. To drag Jason closer back to death.
Halfas could act as psychopomps, bringing lost souls safely to the other side.
Jason had only just become himself again. They had only just begun healing the rift between them.
Bruce couldn’t lose him again.
They had to keep him away from Amity Park. It was as simple as that really; something in Jason’s resurrection had gone wrong and they all knew it.
Even Jason himself wouldn’t argue with that. Something about his death clung to him, poisoned him with that violent green rage.
His children’s reports told him that Danny was claiming to help with the pit rage because he had also been exposed. But what if he was just helping the pit?
Even if he didn’t mean to, exposing Jason to that much power that closely tied to death couldn’t be good. Constantine hadn’t exactly said as much, but Bruce could read between the lines.
Death magic was contagious between those who’d been infected. Who’d died and come back.
That wasn’t fun to know. Not with how many of his children, his friends had all died before.
Even he himself had. He’d have to investigate Amity Park personally. Take the risk himself, to keep it from the others.
Tim and Duke could help, but they were both so busy with their own lives. He would have to wait and see.
His meeting with Clark and Diana hadn’t gone well either. They’d both been gratifyingly concerned with what he’d learned and had recognized the threat.
Clark had promised to keep an ear out for Jason, to listen in on his heartbeat and make sure he was okay. Bruce would have been grateful, if Clark hadn’t also told him that Jason’s heart was noticeably slow.
Easy to pick out, even if they hadn’t spent much time together.
Just how close was his boy to dying again?
Diana had advised caution. Wanted to speak to Danny herself, see the hero who had shouldered the burden of this small town. See if he had turned under the pressure.
Pressure that should never have been his. Pressure they should all have shared, protecting the child and the town together.
It would be his fault if Danny had broken. Had given in to whatever in the Infinite Realms had stolen a whole town away.
Bruce knew that with a leaden certainty, felt the weight of it settle in his chest. The same way he knew he was responsible for most of his rogues.
He could see the wisdom in letting Diana talk to the man first. She was wiser than most of the League, and a good judge of character. Even without her lasso, it was hard to lie to her.
But if what Constantine said was true, he didn’t want to tip their hand. Zatanna and Shazam had both agreed to attend tomorrow and give their own opinions.
They could afford to wait one night. Perhaps two, if Danny couldn’t be found tomorrow.
Just about the only thing Bruce wasn’t worried about was Danny running. If he had ill intentions, he wasn’t the sort to give in and disappear so easily.
He’d threatened Bruce to stay out of things between him and Jason. And certainly wasn’t afraid of a fight.
Bruce was also quite sure that he and Diana could take the boy if it came to it, even with the abilities Constantine ascribed to the realms. He would find a way.
But not tonight, he reminded himself firmly as he strode into the zeta tube. Tonight he would go home, update his children, and get some sleep.
Maybe waiting a day or two to speak to Danny directly would help. This concussion had passed frustrating and was beginning to affect his decision making.
Shaking his head to clear it, Bruce hit the button to send him home. Soon he could rest. At least for a little while.
**
A gentle buzzer went off in the cave and Tim yelped like he’d been stung, clutching at Tucker’s arm in an entirely unmanly way.
“SHIT he’s back hide the candy canes!”
Tucker stared at him wide eyed, but to his credit the other man didn’t hesitate to sweep the pile of different flavoured canes off the desk and into the front of his shirt.
“Where?!” He asked, and Tim hesitated for half an instant.
The zeta tube was down by the cars. Bruce would be up in less than a minute. Spinning Tucker by the shoulders, he shoved him towards the infirmary.
“Get in there! Don’t come out til I say!” He hissed, already hearing the zeta tube’s door whoosh open.
Tucker obediently scurried away, and thank fuck he was quick on the uptake enough to drop his voice below a whisper.
“What?! Tim, what?! Am I not supposed to fucking be here?!” He hissed, and Tim pulled the infirmary door almost shut before darting back to the table.
He’d cleared it with Bruce, had texted about giving their guests a tour, but since it turned out that Tucker hadn’t already been in the know… well, he wanted to prime Bruce with the good news first.
The tube only pinged once though, so Constantine hadn’t come back with him. That was probably good. Bruce would be less cranky.
Tim wasn’t exactly back in his seat by the time Bruce reached the batcomputer, but he was close enough to watch him note the second chair.
Tim didn’t let him ask.
“I have a first hand witness account of what happened in Amity Park.” That was the important thing, right? That they had answers.
Bruce stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed and the whiteouts narrowing with them. Tim stared him down, refusing to look away.
He’d fucked up just like, a tiny bit. But he’d gotten results. Better results than anyone else. So was it really a fuck up?
He watched Bruce’s eyes widen as he realized, and was a little surprised when the man’s shoulders slumped. He dropped gracelessly into the swivel chair, elbows propped on the table and his head cradled in his hands.
Tim was growing a little alarmed now, hurrying forward to Bruce’s side. Was he injured? Had something happened?
His hand was just reaching out to touch when Bruce sighed and sat back up.
“Tim. Who did you bring to tour the cave?” He asked in a tired, heavy voice, and Tim’s brows furrowed.
What? He’d said, hadn’t he?
“Tucker Foley?” He said cautiously, wondering if he should call Alfred. Maybe switch out Bruce and Tucker and get the big guy into the infirmary.
Bruce was very still. Tim forged ahead, hoping to get to the good news.
“He was a vigilante back in Amity Park, part of the support team. I have his statement going back to the beginning of the ghost attacks, and he’s already answered most of our questions.”
Leaning past Bruce, he hit a couple of keys and brought up the sound file of Tucker’s interview.
Bruce was still a little slow as he turned to look, but it seemed to hearten him. Which was when Tim realized.
“Wait. Who did you think I was bringing?” He asked, brows furrowing in confusion.
Bruce shot him a sidelong frown, pulling off his cowl.
“Not a stranger,” he growled, though his heart clearly wasn’t in it. He just sounded tired.
Tim carefully patted him on the shoulder, still thoroughly confused.
“What? But I said…” he paused, pulling out his phone and staring at the texts.
Nope. No he didn’t.
Oops.
Groaning, Tim let his head drop.
“Ah fuck, and I thought we were doing so well!” He sighed heavily and Bruce made a grunt that might have been a laugh. “Alfred’s going to be unbearable.”
That shut Bruce right up, as it should, and then Bruce sighed again. They were moving past it then. Probably for the best, since Alfred would lecture them both on the importance of communication later.
At least it wasn’t only Tim’s fault. The only person who wasn’t a stranger or a bat had been Harley, and he wasn’t actually sure if Harley had cave privileges.
Well. She did now. Since that was what Bruce must have thought he was asking.
Then Bruce straightened, eyes determined and steely.
“I have new information from Constantine. The risks of the Infinite Realms.” It definitely heartened him to talk about, skipping straight to the debrief part of the day.
Maybe they could just skip right over the Tim-fucked-up-and-brought-a-stranger-to-the-cave.
“I need you all to keep away from the Amity Parkers until I know more.”
Ah.
No then. Nope, not skipping over it, because Tucker was actively still fucking in the cave. It was for the best that they’d hidden him then.
Tim shook his head firmly, hoping that if he seemed certain that would help.
“That’s not gonna work, Bruce. I couldn’t have fixed our Watchtower problem without Tucker, and we can’t look at any of the Amity Park data without an Amity Park device.” It was the theory they’d been running with, but they’d had it confirmed now.
Never mind that Tucker had already downloaded most of what was publicly available for them. Bruce would always want a primary source anyway.
Tim pretended it didn’t affect him when Bruce’s head jerked, eyes narrowed as he scowled at Tim.
“You let him into the code for the Watchtower?!” He exclaimed in a hiss. Which was interesting, since Tim had kinda figured the bat cave thing would be more personal.
Then again, the Watchtower could compromise more than that.
“Bruce, read the report on Tucker. We literally couldn’t stop him if he wanted to hack in, because his tech runs on levels that slide right past ours. Tech he’s already sharing,” he added sharply, reaching behind him without looking to hook his laptop forwards.
Bruce, mouth already open to argue, quieted at once. Yeah, new toys always helped. Tim nodded to the batcomputer.
“The update’s ready to go live, but I waited because you need to see this. Open the third window,” he nodded over, pulling up the corresponding section of code on the laptop.
Bruce’s expression pinched but he did as requested, clearly not willing to put another step between himself and the answer. A quick glance up to confirm, and Tim nodded to himself.
Fuck, he needed a laser pointer.
“So it all looks good up there, right?” He pushed and Bruce frowned, but nodded, eyes scanning quickly across the screen.
“Is this your update?” He asked but Tim was already shaking his head, pushing his own laptop towards the man.
Bruce’s eyes widened at the glitching sections of code. Tim nodded, satisfied he’d gotten Tim’s point.
“Tucker Foley wrote me a program so that I could access this ghost code. In half an hour. From scratch,” he added for emphasis, and yeah, he could already hear the lecture about “compromised tech”.
He tried to shut that one off too, pointing up at the screens.
“That? That’s apparently the work of a ghost. One called Technus, who likes to possess technology, and now Tucker and I are going through every line of the Watchtower’s code looking for changes.”
Bruce’s lips thinned to a tense line and he gave a short, harsh nod. He very obviously didn’t like it, but the presence of a bigger threat did wonders for calming him down.
Tim patted his laptop.
“We’re waiting on you to upgrade the batcomputer, but we’re gonna need to check every program on that too. Everything, Bruce. These ghosts could have been rewriting everything. And we’d never know if I hadn’t asked Tuck to help me with the Watchtower.”
Honestly, Tim was just hoping none of their rogues had made any ghostly connections. The implications made his head spin, but he stubbornly kept himself on track.
They needed Tucker’s help. Never mind that the ghosts themselves were reportedly allergic to subtlety and would always go big over going home; that was a tendency, not a guarantee.
Hell, if Tim had a say, he’d get Tucker’s upgrades for the ghost code, improved firewalls, and Danny’s ectoplasm into all his own gear by tomorrow.
He wasn’t going to, Bruce’s paranoia being what it was, but he was already uploading Tucker’s program to his suit’s wrist computer. It wasn’t like there’d be any hidden malware.
Tim had watched over his shoulder as Tucker wrote it, direct on the PDA. And watching him work had been… it was just…
He so rarely got to talk to anyone that was actually on his level. Rarer still that they weren’t a direct member of the family.
And Tucker, for all he currently had a tech advantage? He’d invented that advantage himself. All on his own, he was incredible. Maybe even better with some aspects of software than Tim himself.
The things they could do together… even the internship was pretty much a formality at this point. Just get Tuck through college and see if he’d accept a job at WE.
Hell, if he wanted to found his own company Tim would invest. That kind of brilliance deserved everything it needed to grow.
He had to wrench himself back to the present moment, the “introduce new genius to Batman” step still looming large, but honestly? Tim wasn’t worried. Bruce would see the potential.
Here and now Bruce’s gaze had gone distant, and Tim could easily have kept going, but he stayed quiet. Let the man absorb new information, stop and think.
And if he still wanted to make dumbass decisions, well, Tim could argue with him literally all night. They’d all picked up Bruce’s stubbornness too.
**
It was hard to focus on the screen through the throbbing of his head, the lights too bright even at their lowest setting. He’d checked.
Luckily, it was an issue he’d been dealing with for years, and Bruce pushed it aside with the resigned acceptance of long practice.
He’d pay for it later. That night of sleep was probably going to be a day of sleep at this rate, but he’d get at least six hours. More if Alfred caught him.
For now… Tim felt very strongly about this. Had good reason to, if he was even half right about the scope of the problem, or Tucker’s uses as a solution.
After hearing from one member of the Justice League Dark, Bruce was desperately hoping Tim was right. They sorely needed an ally, one they could trust to guide them through these dangerous waters.
Of course, Fenton and Foley were close. That may skew his judgement, but it could be accounted for. Wasn’t worth more than an ally whose skillset Bruce understood, and could trust.
Tucker Foley was a tech expert, which put him above any occult master in Bruce’s book. Magic had no rules, not that could be relied on, and Bruce wouldn’t touch it if he didn’t have to.
And Tucker’s tech would work with his own.
There’d be a review period of course. He’d have to meet Tucker himself, speak to him a little, get a sense of the man. See how far his opinions would be based in fact, not feeling.
Tim’s vouch was a good first step. As little as Bruce liked that Tim had brought an outsider down to the lab. And then let him use Tim’s computer.
And honestly, it certainly wasn’t Tim’s fault that Bruce hadn’t asked. He’d been lax, not checked properly, and it was that damned concussion slowing him down.
He needed sleep. His thinking was dangerously clouded. But one thing was always true: he trusted Tim’s judgement. Probably more than he trusted his own at the moment.
They could review the situation in the morning, come up with some suitable punishment and protocol to introduce new vigilantes to the cave (which they’d never needed, because other heroes usually came through the League and were already vetted).
A thought struck and Bruce almost smiled. It would be a fitting solution on three separate sides. Maybe the punishment would be easy after all.
“Alright. I’ll need to speak to Foley first. And you will be writing out fresh protocols to address when a new hero but not a league member can be introduced to the cave,” he added, and Tim groaned loudly.
Bruce ignored him. That was just the start of his troubles.
“You will also be responsible for running John Constantine through the full reporting system, and updating the training materials so this doesn’t happen again.” It was a weight off his shoulders, really.
And a fitting punishment, because Tim would definitely think twice before pulling this stunt again. The man himself threw both his hands into the air.
“What?! Bruce! You said you fixed it!” He whined, and Bruce resisted the urge to smile.
“And I fixed Amity Park. But I highly doubt this was his only error, so the two of you will have to review every case he’s reported on before you go back on patrol.”
It was probably several hundred since they’d had the new system alone. Tim groaned like Bruce was sucking the soul from his body.
Bruce levelled him with a stern look.
“I take the secrecy of the cave seriously, Red Robin. This will not happen again.”
“Because I’m gonna die of old age sitting at a desk with Constantine,” Tim grumbled, folding his arms and scowling.
It wasn’t even something he could write a program to fudge for him; every case would need Constantine’s personal input to be sure it was filed correctly.
Bruce was quite pleased with this solution. But he made sure to hide the smile from Tim, who wouldn’t appreciate it right now.
“Tucker Foley may end up working out for us all, but that’s no guarantee a future mistake won’t be fatal. And Tim…” even if it was a formality at this point, he had to ask. “Do you trust him?”
The answer was obvious, this was Tim’s personal laptop, this was the Bat Cave, and as expected Tim nodded immediately, the sulk from his punishment vanishing.
“He’s a good guy. He’s even made a clean set of Amity Park data you can look through until Danny fixes the batcomputer.”
Ah. And there was the problem. With a solution wrapped around it though, so Bruce focused on the cleaned set of data.
If Tucker was anything like Tim, it’d be extensive enough to keep him busy until the Justice League came to a decision.
Until he could speak to Danny. Speak to Jason.
He was so tired.
Bruce nodded, leaning back in his seat.
“Alright. Tucker Foley is exempted, but I need you and the others to stay away from the rest, and particularly Danny Fenton until the League has made a decision.”
It was just a little heart breaking watching Tim’s face fall from hope and happiness straight back into worry.
“But Bruce… he’s helping Jason with the pit, he might need to see him,” he argued, arms folding again.
Bruce shook his head. That was exactly what he was afraid of.
“I know… and I know how Jason feels about following orders. I’ll tell him myself, tonight.” Luckily he was still in the batsuit, if not the cowl.
Raising his wrist to his face, Bruce activated his secondary comm on the group channel. He’d turned both off when his children headed out, fully aware Oracle would override it if they needed him.
He didn’t need to be distracted by the noises of a normal night.
“Everyone, return to the cave before heading in please. There have been developments I need to update you on.” Nothing to worry them, but hopefully interesting enough that Jason would still drop in.
No talk of protocols or anything. No, that was Tim’s future.
Tim, who was looking at him oddly.
“Who told you Jason went out tonight?” He asked, and Bruce frowned. Looked up at the batcomputer, and realized that the tracker screen wasn’t open.
That could be a problem.
“Didn’t he?” He asked, really not looking forward to asking Dick to ask Jason to drop by tonight. If Jason was actually home, actually sleeping…
But Tim shook his head, that odd expression still on his face.
“He never said he would, but he called in after taking Danny home. He’s out with Black Bat,” Tim added, and Bruce frowned.
Why even bring it up if Jason was out? What did it matter?
Tim, clearly seeing and understanding his confusion, groaned and tugged at his hair.
“Bruce. Please, just… listen to me. Danny isn’t the threat here. He’s been nothing but helpful. He’s the one who picked up the ball when the League dropped it, who dealt with all the ghosts we can’t. He saved that town-”
“We don’t know that, Tim,” Bruce cut him off, shaking his head sharply. “We can’t take that risk.”
He could see Tim getting frustrated, temper flaring, and in an odd way, it made him feel better. Calm. In control.
“Bruce, you stubborn… so what? We just tell Jason to keep away from the only person who makes him feel better?” Tim asked sarcastically, and Bruce could see exactly how he’d missed the point.
This was what he’d have to watch for with Tucker Foley. But the technical advantages would be worth it.
“We don’t know that he’s making the pits better,” Bruce said darkly, and fuck it felt good to even voice the thought aloud.
Made it feel real, less like paranoia.
Tim gaped at him, but didn’t argue.
Bruce raised a hand, counting the points off on his fingers.
One.
“None of us heard anything about him a week ago. Not even a few days. Fenton has been here over a year and only just ran into Jason?” It wasn’t possible.
It didn’t make sense. Gotham was a large city, sure, but for two people apparently so closely linked? No.
A second finger rose.
“Danny himself claims that he is helping with the pits.”
“Jason agrees,” Tim cut in, clearly looking to break his train of thought. Bruce silenced him with a stern glare.
“Danny claims he is helping with the pits. Jason claims to have noticed the same thing, but we already know the pits affect his mind. He may not understand what’s being done to him.”
That? That made perfect sense. The pits had driven Jason into those uncontrollable rages, made him do things he’d never have wanted to.
Who was to say they couldn’t have a more subtle influence? More dangerous? More like Ra’s himself.
Even Tim couldn’t argue with that, and Bruce nodded his satisfaction at the boy’s silence, raising a third finger. This… he wasn’t looking forward to this one.
But its weight had been sitting in his chest since the possibility came up, and he didn’t want to hide anything from his boys. They deserved to know the risks.
No matter how much he’d rather protect them from it.
“The little f… Constantine believes there is a chance that even being close to Danny may have dangerous side effects for Jason, purely accidentally.”
Tim’s eyebrow rose at the aborted description, and Bruce was glad he’d clamped down on it. Couldn’t quite meet the boy’s eye as he continued to explain.
“Danny’s connection to… his death,” the words were hard to even speak, another child lost, “is what gives him his power. It’s strong, and may have radiating effects Danny doesn’t even know about.”
Because that was kind of the worst part. There was a chance that Danny truly meant everything he’d said in earnest. That he was Jason’s friend, wanted to protect him.
Wanted to help Jason come back to himself and be free of the pit rage. That they did truly care for each other, and wanted to make each other better.
And none of those good intentions would matter if Danny’s mere presence risked Jason’s soul.
He could see Tim realizing it too, eyes widening and the aggression slumping from his shoulders. But he’d decided to be honest.
Clear, open communication. They could try.
“The way Jason came back… we still don’t know how it happened, or why. But anything half living and half dead can have side effects on the world around them, especially for those who have already died.”
Danny might be here to take Jason away. Back to the dead.
He’d meant to say the words, to lay it bare, but in the end he choked on them. Couldn’t even face the thought.
Tomorrow. After he slept. If they still needed convincing, he’d try again tomorrow. Which did neatly bring them to point number four.
Steeling himself, Bruce shifted his gaze back to Tim, raising his pinky finger.
“And if you are right, if Danny really is helping… it’ll only be for a few days. I meet with the League tomorrow. Zatanna and Shazam will both be there to give their opinions.”
Suddenly Bruce just felt tired. Tired of arguing, trying to make people see things his way. All he wanted was a couple of days. Just to be sure. Just to be safe.
Tim raised an eyebrow again, shifting slowly to lean against the other chair.
“Then why will it be a few days? Why not tomorrow?” He asked cautiously and Bruce chuckled.
Of course Tim knew him well enough to know there would be something else.
“I’d like to talk to him myself first. Perhaps have them meet him directly. Just to be sure what his intentions are in the city.”
“And with Jason,” Tim put in flatly. Bruce just nodded. The boy was right.
“With the city and with Jason,” he agreed, looking back up at the large screens of the batcomputer.
Pulled up the location tracker for his bats and birds, watching their little trails of light run across the city. He wouldn’t let any of those lights wink out.
Tim sighed and shook his head, coming to lean against the back of Bruce’s chair instead. Not quite tall enough to rest his chin on the top of Bruce’s head, and not likely to grow much more at nineteen.
“I still think it’s a bad idea,” he said bluntly, eyes tracking the Red Hood dot in particular. “You’ll only push Jason further away by trying to control who he sees.”
Bruce shook his head, leaning back just a little more into the presence of his son.
“I don’t care if Jason hates me for the rest of his life, so long as it’s a long and healthy one,” he said softly, and Tim snorted.
Pushed away from the chair, and for a moment the distance ached.
“Yeah, well. When it blows up in your face, I told you so. Did you wanna see Tucker tonight or tomorrow?” He asked, and Bruce’s head snapped suddenly around, scanning the cave.
“He’s still here?”
**
Shaking his head, Tim made his way across the cave to the infirmary, pulling out his phone where Bruce couldn’t see it. He shot off a quick text, not looking down.
‘J. Don’t come back to cave. B has mega bitch face just let him cool down’
**
Across the city, the message flashed in the corner of Red Hood’s helmet visor. Groaning to himself, Hood kicked a goon’s gun into Gotham bay and waved to Black Bat.
“You good? I gotta send a text.” He called, deeply offending the eight goons still standing, armed with knives and fucking pipes, and tussling with Black Bat.
Which only got worse when she shot him a quick thumbs up, sat on a particularly tall goon’s shoulders before throwing herself back so far the guy toppled, twisting them in the air so she still somehow wound up on top.
Hood nodded, pulling out his phone one handed.
“Hey! You can’t just text! We’re not done!” A goon protested, rushing in at Red Hood.
Who pulled his gun and shot him in both kneecaps, sending him sprawling to the slick planks of the dock.
This was why he always took out their shooters first. Batman could preach hand to hand all he liked, it was way safer when the bad guys had holes in their hands and no guns.
“Anyone else?” Hood asked rhetorically, pointing the last gun on the dock at the remaining goons in turn. In unison, all six focused their attention solely on Black Bat.
Not because they thought they’d win, but well. She didn’t have a fucking gun.
“Yeah, thought so,” Hood grumbled, sending a quick message back to Tim.
Paused to take a picture when Black Bat actually got three heads at once into a leg lock, because that had to be a record.
‘Is it to do with your big fuck up?’ Cuz honestly, what else could B be pissed about?
The answer came back though, fast and weird.
‘As hard as I also find it to believe this, no. Magician’s got him all twisted around about Phantom. Wants to forbid us all from seeing him.’
The phone creaked in Jason’s grip as he read the last words, a low rumbling growl spilling from low in his chest.
The remaining standing goons whipped around and exchanged startled looks.
That. That definitely wasn’t fucking good. No way.
Black Bat took another to floor as they paused, and the last three fled. Didn’t quite make it to the door.
Jason didn’t notice until her hand landed gently on his shoulder, concern radiating off her. His head whipped round, and he was suddenly glad the full helmet covered his face.
Couldn’t see the way he fucking snarled at her.
Black Bat didn’t move, her head cocked to one side as she regarded him.
“Eyes. Glowing,” she told him carefully, reaching up to touch the side of his helmet.
Jason jerked back in shock, but he could already feel the green rushing away. Receding until his vision purely his own again.
He hadn’t even noticed the green haze.
Black Bat inspected him again, then nodded, going on tiptoes to pat him on top of the head.
“What’s wrong?”
Red Hood sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to recenter. He’d never felt the rage come on that fast, from nothing to all consuming before he even felt it.
Even thinking of the messages made angry green tides again.
We will not be kept from the King!
And it was talking to him again. Lovely. Why couldn’t that part have been his imagination?
Shaking his head, he focused on Black Bat’s question instead.
“Just B bein’ an asshole again. I’m gonna pass on the cave tonight, tell him I went to bed.” It was about as much as he thought he could talk about it without screaming.
Almost forgot that Black Bat could read him too, her aura still soothing and open to him as she nodded. Rested a hand gently on his shoulder.
“Go now. Rest,” she told him firmly, turning back to the downed and groaning goons.
Red Hood hesitated, looking around the dock. It was getting early, nearly time to turn in anyway, and they were done here. Just a routine drug shipment.
The last lot too dense to be cowed by the mood on the streets, or counting on the hour to mean the bats went to bed. Cuz that went so well for them.
He nodded and moved to help her, flipping the biggest goon over and zip tying his wrists to his elbows, and then his ankles.
“After I help you wrap your presents,” he agreed, heard Black Bat let out a soft huff of laughter.
One of the still conscious goons shot him a glare.
“Y’could at least pretend to take us seriously,” she grumbled, then yelped as one of her fellow goons kicked her in the shins.
Clear message: do not push the crazy bat.
Red Hood snorted.
“I’ll take you seriously when you’ve fuckin’ earned it,” he told her, going for the next biggest body.
Black Bat could take every one of them out of the fight, but bagging and tagging a dead weight was much less fun for her. He could handle that part before turning in.
He had a big day tomorrow.
**
Private Chat: DannyP & TooFine
4:30am
‘TooFine: dude Tim just shoved me in a closet I don’t think Batman knows I’m here?????’
‘TooFine: dude’
‘TooFine: dude wake tf up I might need emergency evac 🚨🚨’
4:35am
‘TooFine: that fucking Constantine guy’s put a bug in Batman’s ass’
‘TooFine: told u we shoulda hunted him down 😤’
‘TooFine: and after all I did to help!! Ungrateful bat!!’
4:46am
‘TooFine: okay Batman fucking hates u specifically ur screwed 😳’
‘TooFine: I’m good tho 😇’
‘TooFine: I think he likes me now 😏’
‘TooFine: he wants all my sweet tech upgrades’
‘TooFine: they’re gonna let me play on the batcomputer!!! 😳😳😳’
5am
‘TooFine: u are missing vital updates bitch’
‘TooFine: he’s gonna fucking ground Jason from hanging out with u’
‘TooFine: AH SHIT HE KNOWS IM HERE ABORT ABORT ABORT’
8am
‘TooFine: u may have been right going to bed early man this shit sucks’
‘TooFine: didn’t even get to see what happened’
‘TooFine: they sent me to bed like a naughty child! 😤’
‘TooFine: I’m changing all his ring tones to Funky Town’
10:59am
‘DannyP: okay miette’
11:02am
‘HalfBitch: OKAY IM SORRY TUCKER AT LEAST TAKE THE MAGIC MIKE THEME OFF’
——————————
Next Chapter:
Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778
250 notes
·
View notes
A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #31)
Chapter #31. ... Something Wicked this way comes... Or so Alexander thinks. Who is at Nat's door?
So this is by far my longest chapter yet! I guess that makes up for how long it took me to write and edit it? Maybe? Anyway thanks for continuing to read!! I love and appreciate you all!
Previous: Chapter #30
Next: Chapter #32
Word Count: 10,045
Read Time: Approx. 60+ mins
CW: adult language
Tag list: @gatlily @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien @thegodmother007 @honey-olive @bittykimmy13 @aceouttatime @imvenusasaboy @liminaldaze @windshield-patent @joxter-coded @rosella35 @narrans @rubeau-art @littlescaryinternetguy @jae-from-discord @kitn-underfoot @secretly-small @writing-forever @iinogongju @itsgothgirlthyme @make-me-giant @reborrowing @whatthisfemsheplikes @soapysoap69 @tinystrawberryshifter @thetinylittlespider @bigboicol-theflamingcol @certainwizardlady
Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!
___________________________________
A Fraction of Justice
Chapter #31: The Pricking of Thumbs... and Eyes
[Alexander’s POV]
I strained to listen through the bedroom door, thicker than I measured shoulder to shoulder, through walls of drywall and insulation, through distance. While it was only a few dozen steps for the human who’d just told me to hide, it may as well have been the better part of a mile for me.
Damn my little frame!
My throat tightened as my spinal column was washed with adrenaline. What was happening out there? Was she okay? What was my best course of action? On the desktop I had the advantage of some height, sure, but I was also a sitting duck, with no chance to outrun a pair of malicious human hands if it were to come down to that. Did I risk clamoring to the floor? Or did that just guarantee my doom, underfoot? Down there, I’d have more places to hide out of sight before springing into action with this makeshift weapon I currently hefted under my arm. If push came to shove, would I be able to get to her in time to make any difference at all? Even if I crashed my way into the room with two absolutely massive beings before me, was there anything I could do to help?
My few milliseconds for strategizing were abruptly cut short as the creak of the door opening far off in the distance hit my ears. My blood froze in my veins and I admit, I held my breath as I ground my heels into the wood of the desk, waiting to discover what was taking place far beyond where I stood.
The door opened. I strained, wincing and wishing I wasn’t banished to this far off room, like some weak little coveted prize to be stashed away when danger called. I couldn’t be certain, but I swore I heard a gasp.
Her gasp.
My heart thundered ever more feverishly. That was it. I had to do something. Anything. Even if it got me killed. I would not lie down and cower in fear like some weak little waste of oxygen. If she needed my help, I’d try my damndest to give it.
Without a second thought, I hobbled over to the edge of her desk, contemplating the cables I’d shimmied down once before. I now had the much more logistically challenging job of navigating this vertical drop with a letter opener towering a whole 3 inches above my head and mobility aid tucked under my arm. I heard a shuffling of feet as I swung my own over the cliff’s edge that was the desk’s ledge. I tried not to think about how a drop from this height could kill me as I heard her exclaim, “What the fuck? What’re you doing here?” Was this someone she knew? To my ears, it didn’t sound good.
I needed to move, and quickly. I heard a male voice, deep and wholly unfamiliar ring in response, but I hardly had the bandwidth to pick up on his exact words. I managed to hear “Worried… Own good… Don’t freak out…” I launched myself over the edge, both hands gripping the cord as I swung precariously, trying not to drop the two objects carefully hooked under my right shoulder joint and pressed to my side with the crook of my elbow. I had to make sure to apply adequate pressure to keep them from slipping.
Hand under fist, I began to slowly lower myself down the length of the cord. The progress was abysmally slow. I bared my teeth, sweat forming on my brow, as a muscular burning began to blossom in my shoulders and arms. No! Not now, I’ve only just begun my descent.
I pictured Natalie’s face in my mind. I’d no doubt she could hold her own quite well. The incident with the driver in her alley and her unapologetic shouting match with the impatient man came immediately to the forefront of my thoughts. She did not hesitate to come to her own defense, and I knew that. What she’d failed to remember when she’d commanded me to hide myself away, is that I would not hesitate to do the same.
I was ripped back to reality by two concurrent events that occupied my full attention. First, I could feel my crutch slipping dangerously from my hold on it, threatening to fall out of my grip entirely, as my arms shook with the effort to hold myself aloft. I could hardly afford to risk letting go with one arm to catch it, let alone be able to twist around in time to stop its fall. I doubted I’d be able to support my full weight with just one fist gripping tightly to the slippery rubber casing of a wire. Yet, if it tumbled to the ground, and out of reach, I’d be royally screwed in trying to hobble even a few paces.
As I hung in place, tightening the pressure between my elbow and ribs to try to keep the objects from falling, the second event tore me away from my current disaster unto another. There were footsteps, loud and unmistakable, thundering toward the door. This human, whoever he was, would be bursting through the threshold in only a few seconds’ time, judging by the cacophony of shoes on wood flooring.
I was much too high off the ground to risk jumping, but too far down to have enough time to clamor back up again. This was a huge mistake. I was stuck, midair, probably about level with the average human’s thigh, swinging uselessly, and utterly exposed. Like ripe fruit ready to be plucked from its vine, I was at high risk of being snatched up.
Steel yourself, Alexander, now’s not the time for succumbing to fear. I had a weapon after all, and a sharp one at that.
The gigantic footfalls continued with ever growing intensity in my direction. The stranger’s voice seemed far too casual and familiar for my liking, “Aww, come on, I gotta see what’s been goin’ on… what’re you trying to hide?” Who was this man? Why was she not stopping him and what gave him any right to invade her home on such unexpected notice, no less?
What was she trying to hide? Me. You unwelcome invader of privacy. She’s trying to hide me. So much for keeping out of plain sight and giving her peace of mind.
“No, you really don’t! N-no I’m not hiding– I just… now’s not a good time and–” Her voice was softer than his, quieter and more distant. He was charging ahead and she was scrambling after him. What was wrong with this human? Did he not know how to listen?
The footfalls were so close now, I could feel them as they ricocheted through the hardwood floor of the hall, and shook my makeshift climbing rope ever so slightly.
How embarrassing. Just their steps were enough to rock me to and fro like a fragile leaf on the breeze. I swallowed hard. This was it. In the next millisecond I’d be face to face… well… make that face to body with an unknown enemy.
I gripped tighter, tucking the cable between the sole of one shoe and the toe of the other, so that I didn’t have to bear all my weight with just my arms. This muscular effort tweaked my injured leg, as my trembling hands gained some small relief. With my crutch still barely able to balance, I readied myself to use my weapon if needed. I was almost certain it would be needed.
That’s when he crashed through the door.
He towered over me, of course. The gusts of wind generated from his massive form erupting into the room threw my hair about my face and made me grit my teeth. Why did humans have to be so big?!
He stopped just inside the doorway, his left thigh upsettingly close, yet maybe just an inch or so shy of being within stabbing range. Damn. Still, he was much too near for my liking. I could practically smell him. Was that fresh soap and a hint of cinnamon? I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
He hadn’t noticed me yet: of course not, I was far below his eye line, why would he? He stood comfortably, as if he owned the place. He looked a few years older than Natalie, perhaps about my age, though it was impossible to know for sure. His bespectacled visage was bright, excitable. He seemed amused, as he cast his gaze around. His beard, dark in color, just like his neat, tightly curled hair, was cut close to his jawline. The wide-necked cable-knit sweater he wore sported a geometric pattern in black, royal blue and crisp white. His left hand relaxed inside the pocket of his corduroy slacks, as he took in the room before him.
I hated him at first glance.
He played the part of a perfect Nantucket dandy, clearly hailing from wealth, and with the added benefit of an Ivy League university education, he seemed out of place in Natalie’s humble living conditions. Everything about him oozed with pretension and privilege. And yet, the two of them seemed well acquainted, so there must’ve been some common ground.
While this strange and wholly unwelcome intruder delighted in the view, my muscles were screaming for relief. Sweat poured from my brow and down the back of my neck. My arms, in spite of my best efforts, were starting to tremble and that damned cane was ever closer to tipping out of my grasp and down to the floor, a deadly distance away. I couldn’t hold on for much longer, but I’d be damned if I’d let this supercilious interloper’s first encounter with me be one of pitying condescension because I required any form of assistance.
A moment after he’d paused in the doorway, the third party in this equation, and second human, my human, practically crashed into him in her hurried attempt to stop him in his tracks. Great job, on that front, Natalie. She managed to stop just short of colliding directly into his back by gripping to the threshold of the door and halting her momentum. Much to my surprise, I noticed she was significantly shorter than him. Was Natalie short? That seemed impossible, given just how towering she was to me. Or was this unannounced visitor just abnormally tall? From my vantage point they both may as well have been city buildings, so the difference hardly mattered.
I watched as her eyes flitted feverishly over the desk’s surface, no doubt searching for me. She was red faced and breathless. I couldn’t tell if she was more relieved or panicked by not knowing where I was. Maybe luck was on my side and I’d go unnoticed by them both, left to gasp and tend to my sore muscles in the sanctity and peace of a humanless space. She sucked in air as if about to speak, no doubt to usher him out of the room, when he, oblivious, his back to both of us, cut her off.
“Damn Nat, since when did you start picking up? This place always looked like a tornado blew through here but now it should be on the cover of a home decor magazine or something… What’s changed?” Me. I’m the change that made her clean up her pigsty of a home. You’re welcome. If I hadn’t been convinced already, it was painfully clear now that these two knew each other. He had this smug, easy going familiarity about him that made the bile rise in my throat. Who did this man think he was, waltzing into Natalie’s home uninvited and entirely unexpected and then parading around as if he owned the place? Was he expecting to stay for dinner? Spend the weekend on her couch? How dare he interrupt her work, our work, as if we had nothing better to do with our day than entertain him!
I glanced over at Natalie, she didn’t seem the least bit offended or wary of his presence. So he’d been an unplanned but not altogether shocking visitor? How often did this stranger make himself comfortable in her home? They must’ve been quite close if he had unfettered access to her space and had been here frequently enough to note her change in personal organization. Why hadn't she mentioned him before?
As he spoke, he took another step into the space and went so far as to sweep a finger tip across the surface of her dresser to check for dust, his expression one of impressed intrigue (as he should be, that was my meticulous and thorough dusting he was observing).
While he remained occupied, I suddenly felt the invasion of her gaze alighting on me. She finally spotted me, dangling there like some marionette in the world’s most boring puppet show.
Her eyes bulged from her skull, as she set her jaw and her nostrils flared in that capricious way she always did when she was upset with me, which was infuriatingly often.
Her gaze flitted with anxious intensity from my dangling form to the back of this other human, and then returned to me. With a frantic, utterly confounded gesture she mouthed at me with a serpent’s intensity “What the fuck are you doing?!”
I hissed back, the heat in my face beginning to rise, “What am I doing? Why is he–” I jutted my chin in the stanger’s direction, which I immediately regretted as the force of my gesture forced me to swing in counterbalance, making the challenge of keeping my grip steady and the objects in my arms from falling all the more difficult, “--even here?” I cast my eyes down to the letter opener, and then back to her, “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m protecting you!”
Somehow, her eyes managed to widen even farther as her gaze followed mine toward the letter opener in my grip, its blade as long as I was tall, sharp and menacing, “Don’t you dare! Alexander! No! Do NOT.”
While she spat through gritted teeth, she made all kinds of emphatic gestures: shaking her head, swiping her hand in one fell motion across her throat, and staring daggers at me. If she hadn’t learned by now that telling me what to do would get her absolutely nowhere, then there really was no hope for her. If the man deserved to be stabbed, a stabbing he would get. Simple as that.
She seemed to read my mind, “Alexander–” She was about to continue, her eyes narrowed to slits, even taking half a step in my direction, no doubt on the verge of expressing more disapproval for my very reasonable reaction to an invader in her home, or perhaps to simply snatch me up and disarm me, which I was prepared to fight tooth and nail over. Just as she drew another breath, however, the seemingly spatially unaware invader himself, clearly having no idea of this fiercely whispered conversation behind his back, uttered a noise of delight and intrigue which made both our heads whip in his direction.
“Oh! This is adorable!” During the length of our heated exchange, our interloper had graduated from the dresser to the bedside table, where he was now leaning, hands on knees, marveling at the miniature wonder that was my neatly made bed, my dresser, and a few other furniture items, all to my scale: my open air bedroom of sorts. Oh give me a break! Have you never seen a bed before? What’s wrong with you?
Defensively, Natalie stepped in his direction, still trying to keep my presence a secret; a smart move if his fascination with just my furniture was any indication of how he’d react to seeing me. A few beads of sweat traced down my spine as I grit my teeth, struggling to hold on. He continued to stare, adjusting his glasses for a better look, “What’s all this for? It’s so cute!” Come back over here and I’ll show you cute.
Realizing with simultaneous intuition that we had about half a second before he’d turn over his shoulder to look back in her direction, we exchanged a swift, knowing glance before she turned on her heel, and planted herself firmly between him and my hiding spot, obscuring me from view.
“Oh! All that? It’s… nothing… I thought my niece might like them, I just haven’t wrapped them up for her yet…” Ah yes, thank you Natalie, for reminding me that I and your niece’s playthings could do a furniture swap if we wanted. Excellent. At least she was giving me a chance to escape my predicament. She got points for that.
I wasted no time in re-engaging my muscles for the upward climb. As my shoulder joints buckled, I felt my stomach drop. Did I have the strength to pull myself up?
Now was not the time for doubt. I had to try.
She continued to cover for me, speaking louder than was normal, as I made laughably little progress towards the lip of the desk, “Anyway, look, I really appreciate you coming to check on me. You have literally been saving my ass with the lectures and stuff, I owe you, big time…” My whole body was trembling, my breath escaping my lungs in ragged gasps, my hands, now slick with sweat, were struggling to maintain traction, as my hurt leg burned from the far too great strain I was putting on it just to keep from slipping. As I struggled against gravity, Natalie crossed the room to the other human, trying her damndest to usher him toward the door.
I was only a bit too preoccupied at the moment to clock whether her encouragement was proving successful. Hand over fist, feet wrapped tightly around the thick, rubber casing, I was getting ever closer to sweet relief. Only about two inches of distance left. I could do this.
No sooner had I encouraged myself, than my next handhold gave way and I was left to cling fast by one arm, as I instinctively hugged the letter opener and cane to my chest with my now free hand, both objects swaying wildly along the same pendulum trajectory of my own form. My heart rate spiked and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to make a sound as I happened to peer down at the floor, seemingly a million miles below me. That was close. Taking advantage of the gravitational force that bandied me about, I managed to grab back on with my right hand.
Okay, crisis averted, I could do this.
“...But, you did your check-up on me and as you can see I’m totally fine, so…”
Nevermind. I could not do this.
No sooner had I steeled myself for the homestretch, my grip gave way again and this time I had much less luck in righting myself. My favored hand, my left, failed me, as did my foothold. I was now dangling, precariously, by one arm, legs flailing, as I swung with a violent rhythm. But that wasn’t the end of my troubles. In my scramble to right myself, my movement was enough to finally knock the crutch from my grasp.. and down, down, down it fell.
"...Thanks for stopping by. Like I said I do have a bunch of shit to do today–” CLANG!!!
The aluminum cane collided with the metal rim of the trash can below. My shoulders flew up to my ears as I cringed and grit my teeth.
So much for keeping a low profile.
The gasp of pure delight that came from the man across the room made my stomach churn, as I hung, wrapped tightly around the cable, my one line of defense still pressed between my chest and arm. The speed with which he turned on his heel, alerted by the sound I’d accidentally made, only to almost instantaneously break into a, frankly, disturbingly joyful smile made my countenance twist into a snarl. He practically bounded over to me, with so much enthusiasm that his footfalls shook me from head to toe.
Why, oh why, did I ever delude myself into thinking the company of humans was ever worthwhile?
Much to my utter frustration and embarrassment, all my swinging and thrashing about for a steady hold left the wire above me twisted, and, therefore, I found myself being turned so that his rapidly approaching gigantic face was greeted with only my back.
This was all much too humiliating. I kicked and writhed in a minimally successful attempt to right myself. What I was greeted with made me regret the effort.
His bespectacled gaze was a mere few inches from my body, his dark eyes, widened and glowed with patronizing fascination.
“Awwwww…” His voice was booming, the intensity of his stare far too all-encompassing, he was close enough that I could smell him, that hint of soap and cinnamon striking my nostrils like a biochemical warning signal. He smiled, his massive eyes staring directly down into mine, “You need help, there, little buddy?” I could practically feel the steam erupting from my ears. Before I even had a chance to snap back, the pad of a finger, huge, rough and jarring, pressed into my ribs to turn me fully about.
I writhed away from his touch, swinging to and fro and snarling, “DO NOT TOUCH ME.” Even a rattlesnake gives one fair warning before he strikes, this is mine and you’d do well to adhere to its call.
Simultaneously with my outburst Natalie stepped forward, clearly forecasting what was to come. She knew me well enough by now to know just how I would take such condescension. As she came forward, I felt myself tensing, Don’t you dare swoop in and rob me of my moment. I don’t need your help here, I’m well armed and perfectly capable. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, hungering for the now inevitable moment of confrontation with a being twelve times larger than myself.
She continued to close the distance between us, and I couldn’t help noticing how her hand rested on his trapezius muscle with easy familiarity. She glared at him, an eyebrow raised “Yeah. Don’t, dude. Don’t do that…” Her eyes darted from him to me, her right hand poised to reach forward and tear me away. As much as I relished the idea of not having to hang here any longer, I craved the opportunity to give this dimwit a piece of my mind with far greater fervor.
But it seemed unnecessary for me to advocate on my own behalf, because he immediately laid the groundwork of his own demise, “Aw, come on, Nat. Don’t stress. I’ve got this. Just watch, we’re gonna be the best of friends after today, aren’t we? Aren’t we little fella?” How perfect. Keeping digging your own grave, you cable-knit clown.
He stared expectantly, awaiting a response. His brows furrowed when he received nothing but an unrelenting glare from me, “He’s not much of a talker, huh?” His eyes darted uncomfortably away from my stone cold stare, as he looked to Natalie for an explanation.
“Quite the opposite, actually. That’s why I’m worried…”
“Aww, don’t be! I’m not gonna hurt him!”
“… for you, jackass. You’ve pissed him off into silent rage, that’s a level farther than even I’ve gotten.”
The bespectacled man burst into laughter. Not only did the volume at this distance threaten to blow out my eardrums, but the boiling of my blood quickened my heart rate and I couldn’t help but snarl. The ignoramus wiped a tear from his eye and managed to speak between bouts of belly laughter, “You’re joking, right? That’s adorable! Uh oh, somebody’s grumpy! We all better be very afraid!” He threw his hands up in mock terror. His voice cascaded and echoed in a sing-songy voice reserved for the condescension of human babies or cute animals. Come just a little closer, you ignorant bastard, I dare you.
“I’m gonna say this one more time, you’re gonna regret saying shit like that, I promise. So either move and let me disarm him, or you’ll see what happens when you piss him off!”
Another round of incredulous laughter. Could he manage to be any louder and more obnoxious? I highly doubted it. He continued, unphased by Natalie’s apt warning, “Look at him! He’s harmless! What’s he gonna do? That letter opener is bigger than he is. I’m actually surprised he’s even able to hold it!” You’ll be even more surprised how much force I can put behind it when its razor edge sinks into your flesh, “Yeah, you’re not gonna hurt me, are ya? I bet you’re just a sweet little guy, deep down. I just frightened you, is all. Don’t be scared…” Scared?! Who did he think he was dealing with? “Did you drop something? Here lemme help you….”
He sank all the way to his knees now, searching the carpet fibers for my long lost cane. I waited, practically salivating in anticipation. He rose back to a neutral spine, his knees still planted in the carpet, as he held the walking aide triumphantly between finger and thumb, it looking no more durable than a twig in his massive grip. He grinned brightly, clearly pleased with himself. Alright, just a little closer…
He waved it wildly in front of my face, like teasing a dog with a stick before playing fetch. Needless to say I was less than amused. He leaned forward, to place it on the surface of the desk behind me. Yes, you’re doing great, A+ for hitting your mark. You’re almost exactly where I want you to be. Just a tiny bit closer… His massive face was mere inches from mine, I could see every pore, every eyelash, every detail I’m sure most humans would prefer to be left to the imagination. He was so near I could feel the cascading tide of his breath stirring tendrils of my hair. He looked down at me, his dark brown eyes bright with bubbly self satisfaction, “There ya go. See? We can be friends. I’m not out to getcha…” As soon as the object clattered to the wooden surface, his hand descended from over my head, careening down, closer and closer until his fingers were right on top of me, aiming for my hair. Was this man about to try and pet me?!
Without a second’s hesitation, I wrapped my right arm firmly around the chord, hefted the letter opener over my head, tucked it securely on my left side, and then shoved it forward with all my might.
The trajectory of the weapon was suddenly halted when its point hit home, jarring my shoulder as it absorbed the ricochet of force.
This four-eyed Polyphemus roared in shock and surprise, his hand flying up to the origin of sudden pain. The letter opener had glanced off the rim of his glasses, and the blade hit its mark just an inch or so shy of his right ocular organ. He whipped away, batting the letter opener as he went with such force that he very nearly pulled the weapon and me right along with him, but, somehow, in spite of our significant disparity in strength, I managed to hold fast.
His initial exclamation, loud enough to deafen me, was not one of articulate words, but rather garbled shouting. He’d flung himself backwards, crumpled in a heap on the floor.
And thus, Saint George slayed the dragon.
Did I feel a swell of pride enlarge my chest? You bet I did.
Raising my voice over the din, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ME, YOU INSUFFERABLE WRETCH!” I couldn’t help but laugh as I swung on the wire, all muscular exhaustion temporarily forgotten in the wake of this newfound excitement.
“ALEXANDER!!!” Uh oh.
Here came Natalie, her shadow casting a pall, literally and figuratively, over my gleeful celebration. She was pissed. I didn’t care.
Meanwhile, her friend had scrambled across the carpet until his head crashed into the dresser behind him, “WHAT THE FUCK?!?! HE ALMOST STABBED ME IN THE EYE!” The timbre of his voice had gone from saccharinely sweet baby talk to one of whiny disdain and flustered disbelief. He pointed at me emphatically with his free hand, looking to Natalie for some sort of recompense.
I beat her to the punch.
“WHAT DID I SAY? HM? WHAT DID I TELL YOU? I WARNED YOU!!!” I shouted across the cavern between myself and him, until my throat was raw. By this time, Natalie had fully crossed the few feet between her dresser and desk, settling before me on her knees, her brow furrowed and her jaw clenched.
“Alexander! Hush! You’ve done enough damage already…” Her fingers descended around me, her thumbs pressing into my sternum and across my abdomen, her coinciding index fingers reaching under my arms and just above my hips to support my weight. Her grip was a bit harder and swifter than I’d become used to. She was trying to pluck me up quickly, and I sensed it wasn’t simply due to a desire to relieve me of holding myself up.
Nevertheless, I was grateful for the relief, letting out a breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding. Carefully, she untangled me from the wire and shifted me to a seated position in her right palm. As she gathered me in her hand, she paused just long enough to cast a glance over her shoulder, “He did warn you though, like, in a multitude of ways…”
“Ha! See??” I burst with pride, unable to keep a wide grin from painting my features.
She whipped around immediately, “Oh shut up, Alexander,” She pointed her index finger at my chest, “You’re in as much trouble as he is! He was being a fucking ass, yes, but you didn’t have to shank him! Give me that!!” Her finger and thumb dove for the plastic handle of my weapon, still dutifully tucked under my arm.
I resisted, jerking my shoulder in the opposite direction, “Me? What did I do except protect myself… and you?”
She looked utterly incredulous, motioning with a sweeping, exaggerated gesture at the injured party, who had now managed to scramble to his feet, examining his battle wound in the vanity mirror, “You STABBED my fucking friend! That’s the TA!”
I was baffled by this newfound information.
“THAT’S the TA? Who’s been sending the taped lectures and keeping your attendance afloat? That pretentious imbecile? Well, he shouldn’t have been so condescending to me! And… besides, you could’ve led with that, you know! Maybe then I’d have gone for his hands instead!” I found myself escalating in volume as I spoke, getting increasingly more emphatic, until I was practically shouting.
“You didn’t give me a chance before you went all Zorro on his ass!!!!!”
“What’s Zorro?!?!?”
“Oh my god! Give me the sharp object Alexander, do not make me pry it out of your tiny little hands!” My face flushed hot. I knew she was keenly aware I resented that completely unnecessary addition of ‘tiny’ and ‘little’ into her request. Nothing about me was little, everything and everyone else was just huge. End of story.
She held out her free hand, flat, just below my chest, raising one eyebrow expectantly. I held off for a second, then another, “ALEXANDER!” Fine!
I trusted our intruder understood his limits now and would not be making the same mistake twice. I relented, laying the slightly bloodied object across her fingers. She pursed her lips as if to say “That’s what I thought.” I had a feeling she had a few choice words for me after this unexpected visit. No matter. I regretted nothing.
“Uh, Nat?” It’s bleeding… like a lot…” His voice from across the room drew our attention once more. He turned over his shoulder as he spoke, revealing a rivulet of blood springing from his cheek, down the fingers he’d pressed against it to staunch the flow, and down farther still, staining his pristine, white, woolen collar.
“Fuck!” Natalie practically groaned, before flashing me an extremely dirty look, “Here, lemme… uh, here…” she half rose, seeming to suddenly remember she was holding me. With a grimace, she set me down somewhat roughly on the desktop. She wasted no time in quickly swiping the letter opener up and away from my grasp, before securing it in the back pocket of her jeans. Taking a quick glance around, she decided to pluck up the entire metal cup of pens and other writing utensils, “Please, just stay right here.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. When she realized that was all she was going to get from me, she rolled her eyes and sighed.
With that she rushed over to her friend who was cupping his other hand beneath the first to catch drops of crimson as they fell. She threw the pencil holder down on the vanity and ushered him hurriedly to the bathroom, turning over her shoulder and pointing both fingers at her eyes, before reversing the gesture to be aimed at me. I held my hands up, what could I possibly do now? I was unarmed, and stranded. The object of my disdain far away from my radius for harm.
As they retreated, I heard the wounded man grumble, “Fuck! He’s a little… demon!!” I had the sense that a different word had come to mind first, but he’d chosen the latter.
“… Yeah, believe me, I know…” Hey! Natalie, you’re supposed to be on my side!
“Why in the hell do you keep him around, then?”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but, believe it or not, he actually kinda grows on you after a while.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Should I be offended or flattered?
“I can’t believe he actually stabbed me…” And I’d do it again without hesitation.
After that, their voices became so muffled beyond the partially closed bathroom door that it was hardly worth straining to listen.
I sat alone, isolated and small, feeling a burning sensation in all my exhausted muscle groups, as my heart and lungs worked to steady themselves to a more even tempo. The gift of solitude meant that I no longer had to maintain my composure. I collapsed back onto an elbow, breath coming in ragged fits and starts, no longer having to maintain a defensive stance. Air couldn’t come fast enough as I choked and sweat dripped in my eyes and down my back and neck. My arms and legs were spasming as I tried my best to come down from the excitement of all that had just transpired. Damn, my leg hurt. Everything hurt. I focused on my breathing for a few moments, eyes craned to the ceiling so far above where I lay. I was utterly exhausted. A long rest in my bed which had been the object of such condescension and ridicule just a while ago sounded utterly delightful. But what could I do? I had no means of crossing the vast room in any practical way. I was much too pathetically little for such luxuries of inhabiting two different corners of a room with ease. As if I needed any more reminders today of how small I was. What was a man in my situation to do but sit and ponder? I had no other recourse, after all.
So, this was her friend who’d helped make all this time working from home possible? I was beginning to think Natalie had very poor taste in friends. I wrinkled my nose in disgust remembering how his eyes had lit up in fascination like I was some shiny, new, coveted object. What was wrong with humans? What was so delightfully fascinating about me anyway? In any case, he got exactly what was coming to him.
The muffled sound of voices honed into sharp focus as, suddenly, a voice with a male timbre could be heard whining, “Fuck! OWWW!!!”
A female voice followed with zero hesitation, “Oh don’t be such a fucking baby!”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. You got what you deserved, you overly enthused idiot. Of course, in fairness to him, I knew firsthand how dangerous Natalie could be when armed with a cotton swab soaked in hydrogen peroxide.
*********
If I was in the mood to be generous, which I wasn’t, all I could say is that the tension in the air between myself, leaning over the kitchen counter prepping two whiskey cokes, my friend, nursing his wounds at my kitchen table, and the positively tiny man, petulantly sulking on the opposite side of the table and somehow, even from this distance, palpably radiating with vitriol, was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The only sound was the groan of the living room heater, as ice clattered in the glass while I poured.
We’d shuffled from bedroom to kitchen without so much as a word between us. And now here we were, all avoiding eye contact like put out children. This was fucking stupid. They were both being wildly immature about this. Build a bridge guys. Don’t condscend and don’t be a fucking dick, it’s not that complicated. Did this whole crazy day say something about me? Was I like a drama magnet or something?
Tired of the exhaustive pity party, I swept my hair from my eyes, and swirling them for a final time, I set the drinks down by a wool sweater covered elbow. Neither of them bothered to respond.
I stood there for a moment before breaking the ice myself, “Alright then… Alexander? Meet Charles. He’s a teaching assistant in most of my main lectures this semester. He was just coming over to check on me since I’d kinda gone AWOL these last few weeks. That’s all. He’s not a threat to either of us, okay? He’s a good guy and he means well. He just… had a pretty major… lapse in judgment. One of the smartest people I know… Oh, don’t glare at me like that! Besides you, of course. Okay, Charles, meet Alexander. I found him in my pantry… well, actually, my roses… well, I technically found him in the trash, I just didn’t know it yet… anyway, he’s incredibly intelligent, fiercely independent, and he’s been through some fucking major shit, yet, he still manages to come back swinging every time. To be super clear, he’s here only as long as he wants to be, he’s his own man and he has my utmost respect, even though he pisses me off every five minutes for doing gremlin shit like stabbing my friends in the fucking face. Oh, and he’s almost as big a nerd as you, so I’d like to think you two can find some common ground. So, with that said, it’s time to kiss and make up.” They each bore holes into the surface of the table. I refused to take no for an answer, “Apologize to each other, now.”
Both their heads whipped up, brows furrowed, incredulous sputters erupting from both mouths, big and small. Then, upon realizing I was serious, and almost as if on cue, both shouted, “Me?! What did I do?!”
“Jesus Christ, do I have to do all the heavy lifting around here?” I couldn’t help but massage my temples, a stress headache no doubt on the near horizon, “Charles? Gimme your eyes…” My friend’s lips flattened into a line as he raised one eyebrow as if to say, ‘Really, Nat?’ My bad. Wrong turn of phrase, given that one of his seeing organs was nearly lost just a few minutes ago.
I sighed, settling into the chair between the two uneasy parties, each glaring over his shoulder at the other, “Sorry, well, your one good one, then… Look…” Fuck, bad phrasing again, what was wrong with me? “…I haven’t even had a chance to properly thank you for braving this shit weather to come check on me. I know I haven’t been super responsive and you’re a good friend…”
The tiny scoff in the vicinity of my right elbow made me, albeit briefly, change course, “Zip it, Alexander!” Instead of acquiescing quietly, he, of course, had to make a big show of his dislike of being told what to do. He threw his small weight dramatically against the ugly, chipped, ceramic salt shaker my grandma gifted me years ago.
The object hardly even rocked as he pressed against it, rolling over his shoulder to turn away from me and obscure himself from view behind the white and blue patterned flowers, “…Anyway, where was I?” I turned my attention back to Charles, “Yes, you’re awesome, thank you for always watering my plants when I go home on break and for making the hellscape that is lawschool slightly more bearable. However… As you can see, there’s something significantly different from last time we really talked and there’s some important things you need to know: He may look like the cutest little blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel that you’ve ever seen, he may be so adorably small that he can fit in just the palm of your hand and, yes, in theory, if you were really determined to pick him up you could do so without too much resistance, but when I tell you it is against your own self interest to fuck with this little man I am speaking from extensive experience. He deserves as much respect as anyone else, big or small. He’s fought for that all his life and at least in the confines of this apartment, he’ll get what he’s worked so hard for. Believe me, he had to train me too, in the beginning. Listen to him and everyone will be much better off for it, I promise. Do not condescend to him, do not touch him without his permission and do not, under any circumstances, treat him as anything less than the hyper intelligent, wonderful little nightmare he is.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught tiny movements on the table’s surface below, a pair of blue eyes staring up at me through blonde, curtained bangs as he listened intently. I didn’t dare flash my gaze in that direction, knowing full well once he’d been caught in the act, he’d turn away again.
Charles was quick to respond, applying pressure with a few fingers around the banadage on his cheek, as if spot checking for blood, “Little nightmare is fuckin’ right. What did I do? I was kind. I helped him. I tried to be as gentle as I could. Look at him, he’s adorable… er, was… Can I really be blamed for that?” He shrugged defensively, “I mean, c’mon, they’re tiny, they’re cute, isn’t that, like, the whole point?”
I was going to strangle him, “Dude, did you listen to a single thing I just said?”
“What?! I thought they liked it!”
“You thought I… what?” No longer satisfied with lingering behind the salt shaker, Alexander rose to standing. Without his cane, which, in all the fuss, I’d stupidly left in the bedroom, he steadied himself with one hand on the painted ceramic, his chest puffed out, a defiant gleam in his eye. Oh boy, here we go. I knew better than to get in his way, but I couldn’t help taking a long swig from my glass in preparation for the tirade that was about to transpire, “Please, repeat yourself, you thought I… what was that again?”
Charles stuttered, flashing glances at me. His face was drawn, he instinctively leaned back, away from the little man before him who was unflinchingly glaring up in his direction. He knew he’d been caught, “W-well, I just… you know what I meant…”
“You thought I liked being talked down to and treated with disregard? Interesting. What part of my reaction gave you that impression?” Even from this distance (perhaps a foot or so across the surface of the table) I could see his blue eyes were burning. Charles failed to respond, simply sputtering instead. I knew Alexander was just loving every second of this… smart little bastard, “No, I’m curious. You’re an aspiring attorney, aren’t you? Go on, then. Defend your case.”
Charles looked at me and I offered no solace, instead, I simply raised an eyebrow and downed another substantial fraction of my drink. As the little man spoke, goading the much larger recipient into a debate, he stepped away from the shaker, crossing toward Charles’ end of the table. I immediately bit my lip as he left the support behind and bore weight on his still weak leg. I did my best not to intervene, holding my breath as he made a few steps forward, a painful limp evident in his gait. Despite the pain, no doubt shooting through his body, his voice never waivered. Goddamn, I was proud of him, even if he was insulting my friend left and right. He tucked a hand into his side pocket, the other resting on his chest with a poised ease, his fingers spread from his solar plexus down the length of his sternum. This little nightmare knew precisely what he was doing, and I couldn’t help but watch, “Charles, wasn’t it? Tell me, Charles, how would you like it, if–” Just then, as he took another step forward, his knee failed to bear his weight, and he buckled.
Gasping, my hand flew toward him, offering him support with a few fingers. He fell forward into my grasp, a snarl curling his mouth as his hands spread on my fingertips. He leaned against me until he regained his balance, gripping onto the segments of my fingers to pull himself back up. My heart was in my throat, as I searched his little face for signs of pain, noticing the rhythm of his own tiny heartbeats, though they spiked for a moment, didn’t seem to be going into overdrive. Setting his shoulders, he pushed forward, against my hand, attempting to continue on his path. I hesitated, providing the slightest resistance. His brow knit and those burning irises locked with mine again, “Natalie, I’m fine. Let go.”
He wasn’t scared. His face was flushed and his bangs were disheveled, but his eyes were steeled and determined. I pulled my hand away without hesitation, wincing internally at each furious little limping stride he took, his fists balled at his sides.
He regarded the man before him, whose eyeline may as well have been the summit of a sizable cliff face in their proportion to each other. The little man stood fearlessly beside a tumbler full of alcohol that he could have bathed in, sucked in a clean breath and laid into the larger man, “What you fail to understand is that there is not a single cell in my body that likes my current predicament,” As he spoke, his left pointer finger sawed and jabbed the air like some sort of rhetorical blade intent on wounding his target, “I did not ask for you to loom over me, to touch me, to condescend or pacify me. I am not your friend, I don’t know you in any familiar way, yet you see someone like me, adorable and tiny, as I believe you put it, and you immediately assume that makes me somehow less valuable as a sentient being. You think that just because you can overpower me you have every right to do so. And I concede, in the current political landscape, you are legally allowed, no… not allowed, you are, in fact, encouraged to do so. And why shouldn’t you? I exist explicitly for your entertainment, don’t I? And, in any case, what am I going to do about it, even if I don’t like it? I couldn’t possibly, out of a desire for self-preservation, consider the idea of fighting back, could I? No! No, of course not. Because, as you put it, I’m just a ‘sweet little guy’, who ‘likes it’ when you treat me like an object. Indeed, it feels about as wonderful as a letter opener lodged in your face!”
There was a pregnant pause between all three of us, as the gravity of his words pervaded the room. Both Charles and I couldn’t help but stare ashamedly into the inky depths of our drinks. I knew I was no saint, myself, when it came to the little man. He stood now with a rod straight spine, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his lungs heaved with the task of receiving oxygen again, his unflinching gaze trained on the avoidant eyes of his opposite. I knew I’d fucked up hundreds of times: pissed him off, disspointed him, failed him. He was so right, and it was important we shut up and listen.
The only sound was the heater rattling away, once again.
“... Fuck…” Charles sighed, leaning all the way back in his chair now, his head in his hands. He was full of remorse “I’m… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t… You’re right, I just jumped to… I’m sorry, Alexander.” I watched the little man who wore his every thought on his sleeve, as he took this in. He was shocked. His head cocked to the side, his brow furrowed, his lips parting just slightly from their usual tight, pensive tension. He hadn’t expected this. Not at all. He blinked rapidly, his rigid posture softening ever so slightly as he was taken off-guard.
Charles, taking precautions not to move too suddenly, pushed his chair out and leaned on the lip of the table, his chin resting on his forearm. As he moved, Alexander took a half step back, wary and uncertain about the whole situation, still, he never cowered and his eyes showed no fear. As the larger man settled himself, he was still a good distance from the baffled little man with whom he was now almost eye level. Slowly, he offered his index finger, “I’m sorry I insulted you. Can you forgive me?” Alexander regarded the man with suspicion, his brows knitted and his lips turned down into a sort of puzzled caution.
Still, to my utter surprise, instead of using this moment of genuine vulnerability against his opponent, the little man stepped forward in all his five and a half inches and, albeit not all that enthusiastically, took the offered digit in the palm of his hand and shook it tersely before quickly breaking away.
Charles didn’t linger in his space for long and soon returned to an upright position, as Alexander rubbed the center of his palm with the ball of his opposite thumb. It was clear we all needed some air.
“Hey,” Charles met my gaze as I got his attention, “Could you do us a favor and go get his cane?” He and I exchanged a knowing glance. It was clear he understood what I was really asking for, “Just… just in case…” With a terse nod, the man in the wool sweater rose and disappeared down the hall.
As the sound of his steps faded, I turned my full attention to the five and a half inches of a little life before me. It was just us again, after what’d felt like an eternity of drama. For the first time since that knock on the door, the air seemed to come a little more freely into my lungs. I propped my head on an elbow and looked him over. I watched his little body release pent up tension, his defensive spine melting into the everyday rigidity of his usual posture. Poor thing. Did he ever really allow himself to relax? He thrust his hands into his pockets, leaning his weight on his left side. I wondered how his leg was holding up. He hadn’t strained it this much since his surgery. I wanted desperately to offer him a hand to lean on but didn’t want to patronize. I bit my lip.
Seeming to read my mind like a book, his keen eyes flitted in my direction, “I’m fine.” Are you, though? Or are you putting on a brave face? “I can tell you want to touch me as some form of physical comfort. So, go ahead, get it over with…” he lowered his head and spread his arms, as if surrendering.
A pang of guilt shot through me, “No, I don’t want to make you endure it. If you want me to leave you alone, I will.”
“You’re going to pout if I don’t allow for some form of contact. So, go on, just do what you’d like, within reason…” his head had stayed lowered to the ground until his very last few words, when his icy irises flashed up at me, and I caught a glimpse of a very different kind of glow in his eyes, one that was much softer, more vulnerable. I’d opened my mouth to rebuff him again when those eyes changed everything.
Oh.
This was his way of asking for it. His pride would never allow him to directly request what he wanted at this moment, especially not after chastising us both for our sins of condescension. I didn’t blame him. He’d been threatened, humiliated, laughed at, and stressed out. Maybe a minute or two to rest would do a world of good for him but, of course, he couldn’t admit to wanting something from me, that would be far too weak. We couldn’t acknowledge the reality of that truth for the sake of his ego, so I played along instead, “Just for a minute, please? You tell me when you’ve had enough torture for one day and I’ll let you go.” He nodded, eyes still fixed to the ground. Although it was almost impossible to see his face, I swear I saw more color in his cheek.
“Yes, yes, let’s get this over with.”
I slid my hand over to him, very gently wrapping my fingers around his legs and back, pressing the ball of my thumb into his chest and torso. Even though his face stayed neutral and he hardly moved at all, I couldn’t help but notice a release of his strained muscles as he was finally able to release all the pressure off of his injury. It’s okay to get help when you’re hurting. I couldn’t keep my brows from knitting together in concern. It pained me that he tried so very hard to be strong and independent. I completely understood where the impulse came from but I hated that he was in pain and toughing it out when I was happy to help. I sat with my hand propping him up for a few moments, wanting nothing more than a closer look, “May I pick you up?”
“Yes, fine.” His face was a little pinker than it had been, I was sure of it. Gently, I settled him across the platform of my fingers, his right leg placed carefully along the length of my palm with his heel balanced on my wrist. The ball of my thumb remained in his lap with a looser grip as I drew him up to the level of my eyes.
He sat there stiffly, not allowing himself the luxury of relaxing fully into my hand. I wished he’d stop being so uptight but now was not the time to fight him on it. Still, as I looked him over, I felt an immediate swell of pride expand my chest and warm my face. I didn’t realize he’d been watching me with equal attention to detail, until he spoke, “What is it, Natalie?” His voice lacked its usual defensive edge. He was genuinely asking.
“I just think you’re absolutely incredible. You are literally the bravest, most unhinged person I know.” Did his face get a little redder? All he could manage as a response was to roll his eyes, “No, I mean it! You looked at someone over ten times your size and without hesitation were just like, ‘Yeah I can take him’. Who does that?!” The tiniest ghost of a twinge of a smirk uplifted the corner of his crooked little smile. There you are, Alexander, the real you underneath it all. “When I really think about it, I can’t even be mad at you. You are one badass little motherfucker. Don’t ever change. Okay?” I rubbed my thumb across his chest, as he begrudgingly nodded, the smirk cracking into a half smile, while he rested a hand over the bed of my thumb nail. I admit, I felt the blood in my veins pump a little faster, “We can all stand to learn a thing or two from you on how not to take other people’s bullshit.”
“I hope you plan to take copious notes after all this.”
“Oh, it’s a must!”
He cleared his throat and shifted in my hand, sitting himself up a bit straighter, his gaze took a moment to land as he settled, clearly preparing to speak in greater earnest, “I suppose… I feel at least a modicum of remorse… for staining his otherwise high quality sweater.”
I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from cackling out loud, “You’re such a bastard! Of course all you care about is his fashion sense!”
Alexander was smiling too, as he pressed against my thumb, emphatically gesturing to the bedroom far off to his right, “What?! It’s the only redeemable quality about him! Did you expect me to lie for the purpose of overt flattery? Have you met me?”
Just then we heard the opening of a door down the hall, as the man in question began to re-emerge. I stroked the side of the little man’s head with my thumb, as I cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to say “Do you want to be put down?” He nodded brusquely, and I did as I was asked, gently lowering him and tipping my hand so he could find his feet before letting go entirely.
As the footsteps approached ever nearer, I leaned down and whispered so only Alexander could hear, “You know, if you wanted a sweater like that all you had to do was ask, you didn’t have to destroy his!”
“Says the woman who still hasn’t made good on her promise to fulfill my modest suit requests.”
“Three piece Italian suits and silk ties are not modest. Even for someone of your size! I’m saving up, alright? Get off my back!” I prodded him playfully in the chest as he batted at my fingertip.
In a moment, Charles would be standing before us, and there would begin a new matter as we all awkwardly tried to reset and start over, each much more aware of the others’ feelings on the whole situation. But for now, it was just the little blonde devil and me and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Was it weird that I was kinda excited to watch him lose his shit at us again? Not that I had any intention of provoking him, but it wasn’t far from feasible that we’d inevitably do something to offend him. It just made me proud to watch him unapologetically stand up for himself, even if I got caught in the crossfire. Looking down at him now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Had his opinions towards me shifted in that direction at all? Or was I a target for spite and disdain like my friend approaching the table? I didn’t think so. At least, not to the same degree. The way his eyes had softened when we were finally alone, the way he’d asked me to hold him in the most passive aggressive roundabout way possible… I thought deep down in that little stone heart of his was a warm spot for me, even if it was microscopic in size at this point.
Maybe, just maybe, with a lot of effort I could fan that ember into something bigger. But who knew? There was only so much room in a chest the size of my finger tip.
81 notes
·
View notes