#Jason though… I’m a bit irritated at him for making me think Batman’s hot (even though it’s just his version)

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Tim describing Jason:

Tim to Jason:

Jason describing Tim:

Jason to Tim:

Batman: Battle for the Cowl #1-2 (2009)

[preciousthingsareprecious]

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra's Al Ghuls Entire Empire Part 1

So. I wrote something very silly. The title says it all, except it doesn't because this bad boy spiraled out to being over 10k and deserving of 2 chapters. Anyway, here is the first chapter featuring all the times Ra's kidnapped Tim because he wanted to recruit him.

Summary:

"Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.” Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

AO3 Link

~

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. No really. One moment he’d been in Gotham, crouched behind an old BMW that had been in the same spot for a month, waiting on Batman’s signal, the next he’d woken up in some lavishly decorated room. Was that silk? Or maybe velvet? He had no idea what was hanging around the bed he was laying in, but Tim really didn’t care.

What he was concerned about was his own personal state. He raised his arms --that alone was a good sign-- and confirmed that his mask was in place. He pushed himself up on the ridiculously plush bed, -which was unreasonably plush by the standards of a kid who'd grown up rich, and then gone to live with a guy who had both more money and even better beds.

The point was, the bed was so soft Tim actually had a bit of trouble sitting up.

When he did manage to right himself, he finished taking stock of his own situation and his surroundings. His Robin uniform was intact aside from his belt, but he saw that set on a trunk that looked at least as old as Bruce, a few feet away. The room was, as he already determined, lavishly decorated.

Tim pushed himself out of the bed and onto a carpet so thick he kind of wanted to pull off his shoes and curl his toes in it, but seeing as he still had no idea where he was, who took him, or why, he figured that was probably out of the question. He did make a mental note to ask Bruce for some better carpet when he got home. As a kind of gift for surviving a very weird kidnapping.

Instead, he moved to walk carefully around the room. He found no obvious traps, no cameras or speakers or microphones that were either hidden or out in the open, and both doors were unlocked.

The first he opened revealed a bathroom. The second he cracked open to peer out of. His eyes locked on that of an honest to goodness ninja standing guard outside the door. The man locked eyes with him and Tim snapped the door shut with a click.

Welp, that answered the who and maybe even the where of Tim’s abduction. Ra’s Al Ghul. He was pretty sure if he gave the ninja ten minutes to go find Mr. al Ghul himself, he’d have the why too.

While he waited, Tim snapped his belt back around his waist, comfortable to have its weight back, even if being in a League stronghold meant all the tricks in his pockets were basically useless on his own. Still, it was nice to feel fully like Robin again.

After that it was a matter of waiting.

Tim paced an actual trench into the thick carpet as he waited. Batman was of course looking for him. That was a given, he just had to wait for the man to find him. Or for Ra’s to send him home? He really wasn’t sure why the Eco-terrorist would have taken him in the first place beyond a really weird obsession with Batman's various sidekicks.

How come all of Bruce’s baddies seemed to have a strange fixation on Robins? It was weird how many went out of their way to kidnap and attempt to recruit him, Dick, and if the stories were to be believed, Jason too.

Just as Tim was starting to turn that particular thought over in his head, the door to his room opened and Ra’s himself strolled in.

“Timothy.” the man drawled.

“Ra’s.” Tim replied, suddenly totally and completely unsure what to do with his hands, voice, feet, and general self. This wasn’t a fight after all.

He settled for crossing his arms and being terribly glad his domino hid his eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” Ra’s said.

Tim shrugged, “It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to guess that.”

The man frowned at him, and Tim started to wonder if maybe he should be watching his words a bit. He wasn’t in Gotham with Batman at his back after all. But then again, Ra’s must need something from him right? So a little sass was okay, what was Robin without a smart mouth after all?

“I mean--” Tim started, unable to stop himself now that he was thinking about it, “I can probably start to guess. You didn’t kill me and I’m not in a dungeon so you’ve got to want something from me right? I bet this is some blend of trying to win me over and also hold me above Batman because you--” he paused for a moment trying to remember if Bruce had been on Ra’s’ trail at all lately.

He dropped his arms and clapped, remembering, “You’ve been trying to break into energy and you want Wayne Enterprise to back you and legitimize your business. So you’re holding Tim over Bruce, but you probably want Robin because you and like half of Batman’s rogues have this weird obsession with teen heroes for some reason."

At some point he’d stopped looking at Ra’s and actually started pacing again. When he stopped talking his feet stilled and he looked back up at Ra's and grinned, ""So, am I hot or freezing cold?”

He expected Ra's to looked angry or irritated, instead he looked amused.

“You are quite warm. Though I would contend the assertion that I have a weird obsession with teen heroes. I am only interested in the exceptional, and you Timothy, are exceptional indeed.”

Tim gulped, “I mean--not really? But thanks.”

Ra’s waved him off, “We will speak more later. You are correct, I do intend to use you as a bargaining chip against your guardian--”

“Dad.” Tim interjected.

The man raised an eyebrow but continued, “However you are not a prisoner in the traditional sense. You may wander the compound with one of my men by your side to ensure you do not get into trouble. If all goes well you will be returned to Batman within a reasonable amount of time. Unless, of course, you do decide you would like to stay and learn from me.”

“I don’t really see that happening.” Tim said, “But I'll be sure and let you know if I make a sudden turn towards world domination.”

Again, Tim expected some kind of retaliation, but he was thankfully ignored. Ra’s left him with a warning not to cause undue trouble and soon Tim was alone in the room again.

He spent the next couple days wandering the compound somewhat aimlessly. He had a phone call with Bruce where he promised his dad that he was totally fine if a little bored, and spent the rest of his time trying to avoid Ra’s. The man was kind of relentless in his attempts at winning Tim over to his side and sought him out at meals, when Tim was trying to train a bit at one of the many gyms, and even once while Tim was wandering a rather fantastic garden. Each time, Tim did his best to wiggle out of the man's suggestions and just get back to wiling away the time between then and getting home.

Thankfully, it was all over in four days when Batman came crashing in with Nightwing and Batwoman to rescue him, and soon Tim was home and settling back into normal life.

He’d actually almost forgotten about the whole Ra’s kidnapping him until it happened again. Once had been a surprise, two times was starting to look deliberate.

This one lasted a week with Ra’s claiming it was because he still really wanted that energy deal and he just couldn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t willing to trade that for his ward (son Tim had ground out in irritation).

Tim almost believed him, until he woke one morning to find a pamphlet had been slipped under his door, it was literally a flyer promoting hiring in the League. Tim looked over it and had to laugh out loud. The text was done in a mix of papyrus and other fonts and whoever made it had used clip art. It looked like someone had typed it up in Microsoft word in like half an hour.

He spent the rest of his time there re-designing the flyer, with a ninja hanging over his shoulder as he used one of the League computers. The new one wasn’t the best flyer in the world, but Tim was pretty proud of it, and it was much better than the first draft.

When he was done, he pocketed the original, then pinned a note to the new one that said: Ha! Not until you get better designers.

Batman rescued him again, and Tim pushed the double kidnapping and Ra’s’ weird obsession to the back of his mind until the next time he was with Steph.

They were in the manor watching a Chopped marathon and Tim was telling her about both kidnappings.

“So he’s super into energy? How come he didn’t nab Dick? We all know he’s Bruce’s favorite.” Steph teased, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Setting aside that obvious lie, that’s the thing,” Tim continued, digging out the flyer he’d kept, “It has nothing to do with energy or Dick. I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to recruit me.”

He showed her the paper and Steph snorted, spraying chips out as she laughed, “No. Freaking. Way. I have to tell Cass. Let me show her this, please I’m begging you.”

Tim groaned, “Yeah, sure, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

She shrugged, taking the flyer to look it over, “Of course, but the B-man attracts weird like ice cream dropped on the ground attracts ants. Give him six months, and Ra’s will move onto a different way of trying to piss off Batman.”

“I hope so.” Tim said.

The third time Tim woke up in the elaborate room he was getting really sick of the decor and the headache that came with being knocked out and dragged halfway across the world.

“You know.” Tim started, the moment Ra's walked into his room (and it was actually Tim’s room he’d learned from one of the ninja guards), “You could have waited a month this time, to at least pretend this wasn’t all about your super weird plan to try and convince me into letting you adopt me.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to respond, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Which, by the way, I’m taken already. B did the whole adopting thing, so you missed that window. Though, I guess that probably doesn't really matter to you in the grand scheme of things since you keep kidnapping me. You are aware that kidnapping isn’t the best way to convince someone that your way is the right one, right?”

“Also, would it kill you to pick up some --I don’t know-- books on recruitment or something? I don’t understand how you’ve managed to get so many guys on your side it’s--” Tim started, but Ra’s had caught on to Tim’s mood at this point, conceded temporary defeat, and made a hasty retreat.

Tim didn't see him the whole rest of the day, and by the next morning Batman showed up, swinging in for another rescue and all was fine and good and normal for a while.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

It was the fourth kidnapping that really set Tim off.

He woke up back in that stupid room with it’s stupid decor and those stupid posters ready to burn the place to the ground. But something stopped him, a premonition. Like if he was patient for just a little longer he’d find a good and proper form of revenge to take on Ra’s for his total inability to take a hint.

At some point two ninja came by to take Tim to meet with Ra’s. As they walked Tim couldn’t help but notice the posters literally lining the hallways they walked through.

They were of two wildly different styles, but both struck a thought of familiarity in his mind. One was obviously a play on the classic “I want you in the army” poster. The other ripped off old “pin up” recruitment posters. Both made him laugh, and Tim pulled a couple of each down to save to show the Titans. He had a feeling Bart and Kon would lose their minds over these.

He had just folded them up and shoved them in his back pocket when they reached an office. Inside, Ra’s sat in a chair and motioned Tim to sit in one across from him.

“Thank you for joining me, Timothy.”

Tim sat and shrugged, “Not like I had much of a choice.”

Ra’s waved him off. As he did, a different ninja from either of the ones who’d escorted Tim to the office came in with a tray of tea. He handed Ra’s a cup, then gave one to Tim, and left the set on a table between them.

The whole vibe was kind of awkward and strange. Tim felt very much like he had one time a year ago when he’d realized halfway through a date that things were not going to work out. He hadn’t been able to end the date then and there, and had spent another two hours awkwardly making small talk and trying to avoid promising a second date.

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”

Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

Tim took a sip of his tea in an attempt at avoiding having his mouth drop open in shock. Ra’s sounded like something out of a “Executive success seminar” that was just a veiled multilevel marketing scheme.

“To put it plainly, Timothy, I want you to become my apprentice. I know you and assume you might be hesitant to accept this lifestyle so I’ve prepared for you something of a presentation on what that might entail.”

Tim couldn’t stop a laugh from bursting out of him, but he did manage to turn it into a kind of cough.

“Wait--wait.” he said, almost choking on his tea, “Are you about to show me a powerpoint?”

Ra’s looked a bit put out at that suggestion, almost like he wanted to sigh, “Of course not, it’s more interactive than that.”

Tim held up his free hand, incredulous, “Is this--a job interview Ra’s? I thought you were pitching this to me.”

“No, no. It’s an interactive presentation designed to show you just what you have to gain from joining me.” Ra’s explained, as he did so Tim took another sip of his tea.

He lifted his cup and waved it lightly, “Oh yeah, so I’m just in one of those fairy tales then where you make me do three impossible tasks and at the end I get the happily ever after dip in the lazarus pit?”

“It’s only one trial--”

“So it is a task!” Tim declared, almost standing.

“Timothy.” Ra’s snapped, sounding a bit like Bruce whenever Tim and Steph’s antics pushed him a bit too far.

Tim crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Irritating the man was a bad idea, Tim knew that, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t going to be sent on a wild quest that might end up with him dunked in a Lazarus Pit or whatever else Ra’s had in mind that would supposedly prove how great it would be to work for him.

“If you are not going to take this seriously, then there are other ways of showing you why joining me is a good idea that are not nearly as pleasant.” Ra’s growled.

Tim held up his free hand, “I’d rather not find out, give me your pitch or send me off with your best ninja or whatever you were planning.”

He figured playing along would work for now. He could put off giving Ra’s an answer until Bruce came in for a third rescue. When he was home, they were going to have a serious conversation about ninja proofing the manor. Ra’s could not keep kidnapping him like this, they had to have some kind of security measures in place.

“Wonderful. I’m sure after your tour you’ll have a better understanding of what I have to offer you.”

Tim ended up following someone Ra’s called his “best general” around the compound for an hour. The guy showed Tim the training rooms, the medical suite, sparring rings, a variety of ninja’s actually practicing, and at one point they even ended up in the library. The general had been given instructions to pause anywhere Tim wanted him to, and so they lingered in the library for a bit.

He had to admit, Ra’s had a fantastic library.

The general didn’t seem worried about Tim getting lost, or escaping, and waited by the door while he wandered the massive room.

And boy was it huge. It was bigger than the main floor of the cave, with stacks and stacks of books on two floors. Some of the volumes looked ancient, and there were even scrolls shelved on the second floor.

He gingerly pulled one out to examine.

“That is worth more than you could ever imagine.” a sharp, young voice, declared, behind him.

Startled, Tim dropped it back onto the shelf and spun. Before him stood a kid, probably 8 years old, with tousled dark hair, dark skin, and a face that almost echoed some of Bruce’s school photos. It was startling.

“Hi.” Tim said, dumbly, “I know, it’s Ancient Sumarian right?”

“Tt.” the boy crossed his arms, “You are not an idiot then.”

Tim shook his head, “Nah, apparently I’m smart enough to be selected for recruitment.”

The kid nodded, “So you are Grandfather’s young detective. He speaks highly of you.”

Grandfather? Tim’s brain spun. This kid was Ra’s al Ghul’s grandkid? He ran the numbers, the kid’s mom was either Talia or Nyssa. If he had to put money on it, Tim figured the boy before him looked more like Talia than her sister. And his other features--like Bruce’s?

No.

No.

No. Freaking. Way.

“That is hardly language to use here.” The boy said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Tim hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but apparently his surprise had been so great he had. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just never expected Ra’s to have a grandkid.”

“It is not surprising to me, I am his heir. Born to inherit the League and rule the world one day.”

Okay, that was a lot to unpack. Just a totally wild amount, but Tim wasn’t super focused on the world domination thing just yet (maybe later when he had a chance to process all of--well, all of it), “Sorry to keep pressing but, doesn’t having an heir kind of--I don’t know, put his whole Eternal Ruler of the League thing in jeopardy?”

“Tt. It is not my place to question my Grandfather’s plans. I simply know what I have been told, that I will inherit the League one day in his stead.”

“Well,” Tim rocked back on his heels casually and grinned, “That might be a long loooong time.”

The kid’s brows furrowed as if he had not really considered that idea before. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to decide against it, dropping his arms to his sides to shrug, “If that is his wish then so be it.”

“True.” Tim said, not really knowing what to say. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “You know, if your grandfather gets his way I’ll be spending more time here, so I guess introductions are in order. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne, but most people just call me Tim.”

He held his hand out to the kid, smiling at him. If he really was Bruce’s then they’d be getting to know each other for sure. Just not here. Tim had zero intentions on letting Bruce’s child stay with the League. Did B he even know he had a kid? Tim thought he’d better figure that out first before kidnapping his little brother.

Little brother. Just that idea made something flutter in Tim’s chest. He’d always wanted a little brother.

The boy scowled at his hand, and did not take it, “You may be correct, even if I do not see what Grandfather seems to. I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Tim bit back a grin at just how serious this kid was. He sounded like a little prince, all imperious and haughty. Damian, even his name fit him. He wondered how Damian would do around Dick? Or Stephanie. They’d figure out how to bring a smile out of him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian.” Tim said, “I know we’ve really only just met, but I’m sure you’ll see what Ra’s does in time.”

Damian looked him over again, then gave a sharp nod, “I am interested in seeing what you have to offer.”

“Damian, I found it, where’d you go?” A voice sounded from deeper within the stacks.

Tim started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Knew it from nights spent chasing shadows, from recording’s Bruce had watched a hundred times when he didn’t think Tim was watching. From Tim’s own desire to know and learn more about his predecessor. It was Jason Todd’s voice.

But that couldn’t be. Jason was dead.

“I am coming.” Damian returned, his tone more childlike than Tim had heard in their whole conversation. He turned back to Tim, “Do not ruin that scroll, I will see you later.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Tim stepped forward, reaching out for the kid, “Wai--”

“Master Tim, we really must be going.” Tim’s guide was back, stepping into his view as if from nowhere, and stopping Tim’s chase as short as it had been.

“Can we wait just one more second?” he asked, “I wanted to ask Damian something else.”

The man’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I do not have clearance to let you speak with Master Damian. Come, we have more to see.”

Frustration bubbled up in Tim, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Damian right then. The kid had promised to see him later, so maybe he’d seek Tim out. If not, Tim would find a way.

As he followed the man out of the library, he kept searching the stacks of books for a sign of the others. It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Tim caught sight of Damian again, his small form waving animated at a taller, broader one. One that, while older, was unmistakably Jason.

Before Tim could say screw everything, the two turned around a corner, and someone else was clearing their throat. His guide seemed eager to move on, and so they did.

Tim tuned out most of the rest of the tour, and eventually found himself back in the office from before, once again seated across from Ra’s.

“Timothy, I hear you have met my grandson on your tour.” Ra’s started.

“I did.” Tim said, a bit hesitant to go into detail, his guide had seemed like talking to Damian was a pretty serious thing, and suddenly Tim was afraid he’d gotten the kid in trouble.

Ra’s smiled, “He is magnificent is he not? Already he is a skilled warrior, and well trained in his studies.”

“He said he was your heir?” Tim ventured.

The man waved a hand dismissively, “Of course he is, he is my grandson, but that does not mean he will inherit. The boy is valuable to me, for many reasons. He is an excellent tool to wield against my enemies already, and will only become more so as he grows.”

Anger bubbled up in Tim. There was something in Ra’s’ tone that made Tim sick, to call a kid a tool. To plan to just use him his whole life?

“And what, do you want to do that with me too? You said you wanted me to be your apprentice, but if your Heir is just a tool then--”

“No, as I said I want you to take over a branch of the League. You have talents and skills Damian will not. The boy is--” Ra’s shrugged, “Let us call him a vessel. A shell for me to wield in one way or another.”

Well, that just made Tim even more angry. Damian was his grandkid. What Tim wouldn't have given to still have his grandparents, and for Ra’s to just--If Tim wasn’t already dead set on getting Damian home, he would be after this conversation.

“You know what, Ra’s. Let me think on it a while. I’ll get back to you on my answer. I kind of want to see Damian in action a bit, learn what this training looks like in someone closer to my age.”

The man considered this for a moment before nodding, “I will let you watch his sparring session tomorrow. For now, I think we’re done. Have a good evening, Timothy.”

Tim nodded, and left. His mind was racing, he wanted another look at Jason. Wanted to tell Damian about his dad. Wanted to make sure both his brothers were okay.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed the black and blue clad arm that reached out from behind a curtain and yanked him back. Nightwing put a hand over Tim’s mouth to quiet him, and then pulled him out the window the curtain had been hiding. They dropped, into nothing--except it was solid?

Tim found himself inside the invisible jet. Inside, and flying away from his newly discovered siblings before he could even argue they needed to be rescued too.

One flight with Wonder Woman and Nightwing later, and Tim was home again, being told in stern tones by both Batman and Nightwing that he really needed to stop allowing himself to be kidnapped by ninjas (like he didn’t know that).

Then he was in his room, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirring. He had learned two things on this trip. Two impossible things. Two things he was going to leverage as soon as he could.

It was late, and he should be sleeping, but instead he texted Steph and Cass in their little group chat.

Tim: Want to cause some chaos?

Immediately he received a response:

Steph: Always

Cass: Who are we going after?

Tim smiled, his fingers dancing over his phone:

Tim: Ra’s.

Cass: Time to teach him a lesson?

Steph: I've been waiting for this, I’ll get the kerosene

Tim: There’s more.

Cass: Tell.

The light flashed on out in the hallway, Tim could see it flicker to life under his door.

Tim: Tomorrow, lunch at that place with the sweet potato fries. Come ready to plan a kidnapping or two.

The next day Tim found both Steph and Cass waiting eagerly for him at the restaurant, a heaping plate of sweet potato fries between them.

“Spill, Bird Brain.” Stephanie said, as he sat down, pushing some fries towards him, “I want to hear everything about this crusade against Ra’s.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and snagged a fry, dipping it in one of the sauces they’d gotten to accompany it.

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I had another visit to the League compound yesterday.” Tim started, “It was more of a day trip this time, but Ra’s did his very best to sell me on signing up.”

“More posters?” Cass guessed, then shook her head seeing Tim’s expression, “What did he do?”

Tim snagged another fry, “Yes more posters, but more than that he gave me a speech right out of a How to Recruit for Dummies book, then sent me on a tour of the building.”

Steph snorted, “Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did not, but you will never believe what I found on my tour, or to be precise who.”

Both girls paused their snacking, waiting on him to continue.

Tim dropped the first bomb, “Jason Todd, alive and breathing.”

“What, no way.” Steph said, “How’d he even get there? I thought He was buried here?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any of the details, but they’ve got a Lazarus pit, and Ra’s is weirdly obsessed with recruiting Robin’s, so I’d say his resurrection tracks.”

“Who else was there?” Cass asked, brow furrowed.

Now this he knew neither of them would be expecting. Tim hadn’t expected it. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, Damian.” Tim said, watched both girls look even more confused, then added, “The son of Bruce and Talia. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s their kid.”

The fry Stephanie was holding dropped out of her hand.

Tim watched Cass processing the information, saw her realization that there was another child being raised in the League, then saw the determination cross her face at her own personal decision.

“We are taking them both, correct?” Cass asked.

“We’re taking them both, and burning the place down.” Tim confirmed, “That should properly pay him back for all the time’s he’s kidnapped me this year.”

Steph’s lips turned up into a sharp grin, “The law of equivalent exchange.”

Tim laughed, “You’ve been watching too much tv.”

“It’s prepped me for this very moment.” she shot back, voice falsely grave.

“Batman prepared you for this very moment.” Cass elbowed her.

“No.” Tim said, “I’m going to prep you. And then we’re going to put everything in action.”

They talked, and planned, and debated the pros and cons of letting Tim get nabbed again over just going himself, and eventually after many many sweet potato fries and sodas they were ready.

It was to be infiltration first, fire and kerosene second. Obviously the place was going to go up, but only after they set the stage for rebellion and convinced Damian and Jason to go home with them. Tim didn’t think it’d be a hard sell for Jason, but the kid was another matter altogether. If Tim couldn’t convince him to come along, they may actually end up having to kidnap Damian.

A key to the plan was that only Tim, Steph, and Cass were in on it. There was no way Bruce was giving the green light for such a thing. Besides, Tim wanted to see his face when they presented him with not one, but two, rescued sons from the League.

Over the next week Tim made himself the most kidnappable he’d ever been. He wandered outside, kept to himself, and tried to look as wide eyed as possible. He lingered in parking lots, and took shortcuts down empty alleyways. Basically, he did everything he could to signal he was alone and vulnerable besides hanging a sign around his neck that said “Take me to your (ninja) leader”.

At one point he even stopped, dead center in the middle of an alley and declared, “Wow this sure is a dangerous place to be! I hope I don’t get attacked and kidnapped by ninjas!”

The only response he got that time was from an older woman who stopped at the edge of the alley and very seriously called out, “Careful, young man. Don’t you know there are killer clowns out? You best be on your way before you get hurt.”

Then, at long last, Tim caught sight of one of the League members ducking behind a shadow. He paused his walk, and leaned over as if fascinated by something on the sidewalk in front of him. By the time he’d stood, the ninja was in front of him.

Tim held up his hands in surrender, doing his best not to actually look excited. Then, he was successfully kidnapped for the fifth --and if Tim’s plan worked successfully-- final time.

[thefightingbull]

Puppy Love Part 4 Debriefing Dinner

Jason was sitting at the diner with his head pressed against the table. His dad and oldest brother Grant were across from him. “It couldn’t have gone that badly,” Grant tried.

“It went much worse,” Jason spoke directly into the table.

“Son, get your face off the table, you’ll get syrup in your hair.” Dad threw in. He did as he was told, mostly because he really didn’t want sticky shit from the previous diner getting in his hair. “What happened?”

“Lucky knocked over a vase full of flowers and a portrait of Bruce Wayne’s parents,” Jason moped as he ran hands down his face. When he saw the irritable look his father was giving him, he quickly added; “This fucking beast of a dog frightened Lucky, it wasn’t his fault.”

Grant grinned and took a sip of his coffee. “Your kids will have no discipline whatsoever. It will always be everyone else’s fault.”

Jason rolled his eyes and threw up a middle finger.  

“What happened after?” Dad asked.

Jason scowled at his father. He knew damned well that Dad just wanted to know what discomfort he’d caused Bruce Wayne, aka Batman. His old man lived to rile up the caped “superheroes”. The sheer amount of pleasure he got from it was almost perverse.

“So, Bruce Wayne starts in on his interrogation once we’re all seated. Where are you from, what do you do for a living, easy questions, right?” His dad and brother nod. “Well they weren’t! Despite having prepared answers all my fucking life, I just blurt the first thing that comes to mind since I know me and Dad are heading out of the country soon.”

“What’d you tell them you do for a living?” Grant asked.

��Flight attendant.” Jason sighed.

Grant and Dad both laughed. “Dude,” Grant recovered first. “You know how to fly. Billy and I taught you! Why didn’t you just tell them you were a pilot?”

Jason blushed. “I told you, my mind just kind of… blanked.”

“Oh, Son,” Dad shook his head. “At least there is no way Bruce Wayne thinks you’re Nemesis.”

“Deadly mercenary by night, peppy flight attendant by day!” Grant laughed again. “Oh wow, Kid, you really went with flight attendant?” Jason leaned back against the back of his booth and crossed his arms. “Oh Joey’s gonna love this,” Grant continued. “I can just picture it now, big-bad Jace Wilson offering out little packets of pretzels and a cookie.”

“Go fuck yourself, Grant,” Jason sneered.

“Hey, now, that’s no way for a flight attendant to talk,” Dad threw in before the two idiots both busted out in raucous laughter.

Jason waited for them to settle down again. He just knew that by the end of the night Rose, Billy and Joey would all know about his lapse in judgement.

“Well, it worked though, right?” Grant asked a few minutes later as he wiped a stray tear from his blue eyes. “I mean, they bought it.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s what made it so much worse.”

“Oh?” Dad grinned. “What happened.”

“His little brother… Damian.” Jason snorted. “That little shit got all haughty and superior. ‘You mean to tell me you have an FBI agent for one brother, a successful composer for another, and a sister in college and all you attained to be was a stewardess? Once again, Dick, your taste in men has proven lackluster.’

“God I just wanted to knock him out of his chair. But then, the middle brother beat me to it,” Jason smiled. “That part actually went okay.”

“Sounds like the three of us,” Grant grinned. “Remember that time Billy brought that one lady over?”

Jason nodded and laughed. “Oh yeah! Audrey Curtis. You dumped pepper in Joey’s hot cocoa, but he thought it was me, so he flung mashed potatoes when I wasn’t looking!”

“It was a great food fight, one of our best yet,” Grant beamed proudly.  

Dad shook his head as he scratched as his goatee. “Yeah, but Billy got back at all three of you little brats for ruining his date.”

Jason snorted as he laughed at the memory. “Itching powder in our underwear. Man… that was awesome.”

Grant nodded in agreement.

“You’d think the three of you little terrors would have learned,” Dad shook his head and took a drink of his own coffee.

“We’re Wilsons,” Grant reminded. “We’re too stubborn to learn our lesson.”

Jason couldn’t help but feel much better. Even if his own family had teased him a bit, it was nice to be around Grant, even nicer that he’d taken such a long drive to do it. Of everyone in the family, Grant hated road trips the most. Even a four hour one like the one he’d taken to get to Gotham was normally three hours and thirty minutes too long.

He felt his phone vibrate and pulled it out. It was just a text from Dick confirming their next date and where to meet.

“Oh, I know that smile,” Dad teased. “the current piece of ass is texting him.”

“Hey, what does this one do again?” Grant asked.

“He’s a vet,” Dad answered for Jason while he typed a quick reply. “He’s why your brother has a dog.”

Grant grimaced. “You aren’t going to keep it, are you Jace? I mean, you and Dad travel so much as it is, and dogs needs discipline and stability. You know, like a real relationship requires.”

Jason set his phone down and glared up at his brother. “I can handle it. Lucky’s very smart, he’s been super easy to train. Barely an inconvenience. As for Dick, he’s fine with the travel. We’re taking this slow to begin with anyhow.”

Grant rolled his eyes. “As if you’ve ever taken anything slow in your life.”

“He’s gotta point, Jace,” Dad smirked. “You go from flirting, to dinner, to sex within the same interaction most of the time. You want this guy to last and not be just another notch on that belt of yours, you need to think things through.”

Grant took a deep breath. “Maybe you should consider college.”

Jason cringed at how quickly Dad turned on Grant, but his brother clearly expected it as he faced their father. “Look, Dad. Joey and I took the news of Jace working with you pretty well I think,” Grant began. “But, it’s not a safe job and he’s risking a hell of a lot more than you are.

“And you,” Grant turned his eyes on Jason. “maybe adopting a dog and trying to make a real relationship with this vet guy is a sign that you’re not as happy working with Dad as you thought you were? Maybe sub-consciously you’re tired of this type of work. Maybe you want something more stable and structured.”

Jason immediately shook his head. “No, no. You don’t get to put this on Dad, Grant. I like what I do. I enjoy it. It’s challenging and fun and needed. What we do is crucial,” Jason stated firmly. “And I’m warning you right now, both of you,” he looked to each of them. “You convince Dad to stop working with me, it won’t change a thing. I’ll just work solo.”

Both men were silent for several moments before Dad sighed. “Jace’s right. How do you think he started in the first place? I couldn’t keep him from following me no matter what I tried. Even Billy couldn’t keep him home.”

Grant frowned. “You could do what I do, Jace. We’re crucial, too.”

“Too much red tape.” Jason answered honestly.

“Sound just like Dad,” Grant grumbled before taking a drink of his coffee. He seemed to have finished it off as he pushed it to the side and checked his watch. His eyes widened a touch. “I need to get on the road. I still want you both to knock this shit off, but it was really good catching up again.”

They all three stood up and got out of their seats before exchanging hugs.

Grant gave Jason a kiss on the cheek. “You ever change your mind, you’d make a great field agent, Jace.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you should be a military recruiter?” Jason teased.

“Better than a flight attendant,” Grant retorted.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Under your wings

Summary: Jason didn’t have black wings as massive as the ones attached to his back. They kind of looked like the wings he’d always wanted to have, but most certainly wouldn’t get.  When Jason got resurrected, his wings weren't red anymore.

AN: For the batfam discord’s @thursday-batfam-prompts Wings

When Jason woke up again, the first thing that disturbed him was the weight on his back. His wings weren’t that heavy. Of course, they had gained some weight with them slowly reaching maturity and their full wingspan. Alfred had said to give it another year before-

Before-

What-

Where was he? What had happened? Where was Bruce, he wanted to go home, he wanted his Dad, why didn’t the laughing stop!?

“Breathe, child.”

Jason could hardly see anything through the haze. Vague figures. A hand.

He couldn’t hear and he was choking on his own thoughts.

“Sleep a little longer, child.”

X

The next time Jason woke up, he didn’t freak out. There was no point to panicking about confusing dreams, was there?

Instead, Jason settled on inspecting his surroundings. To his right, Jason could see a lot of medical equipment. Tubes and measuring of all kinds seemed to take up most of the space. On his left, curtains covered a window. The sound of birds and people running around shouting in Arabic reached his ears. Bruce had gotten him started on lessons and that language came to him much easier than the Russian had learned before it.

Jason had a lot of dreams that were just filled with him waking up somewhere he didn’t know. According to Barbara, they were a sign of wanderlust. It fitted that a kid from Crime Alley wanted to go out and see the world. It was rare though that his dreams were as lucid as they were now.

Curious, he threw off the blanket. Jason wanted out and explore the world around himself. Of all the things to hold him back, from terrifying monsters to whatever weirdness he could dream up, Jason didn’t expect bandaged wings.

His wings were enormous for his size, making him look ridiculous. He knew he’d grow into his wingspan, but a kid that was on the short end of the spectrum with bright red wings? Yeah, needless to say, he had heard the whispers (or shouts) at school and hadn’t been impressed. In between all the rich kids with their perfectly regular and average browns, grays and blacks, red wings stood out like nothing else. His wings weren’t any help on patrol either. Coloring them dark took ages. Bruce never had to color his already pitch-black wings, but Jason hadn’t been as fortunate. And trying to get the dye out again? Even worse. It took hours with water if Jason didn’t have the actual dye remover on hand.

As annoyed as Jason was with his wings though, he took good care of them, which was why the bandages were the first surprise.

Their size the second, and their color the third.

Jason didn’t have black wings as massive as the ones attached to his back. They kind of looked like the wings he’d always wanted to have, but most certainly wouldn’t get.

The door to his room opened. The person he saw step into it wasn’t someone he expected his subconsciousness to dream up.

“Talia?” Jason asked. “Huh, alright.”

Talia mustered him, her dark green wings pressed to her back like she expected someone to leap for them. Bruce did that too when he got too wary, or when he was dosed with Fear Gas. Jason had spent most of his childhood before he had been adopted with his wings close to his body.

You could tell a lot about people from the way they held them.

Then, Talia frowned and her expression shifted to worry and pity.

“Oh, Jason,” she said. She sounded kind. Motherly. “Don’t you remember?”

The Joker laughed. Time froze.

The world kept spinning.

Jason had died and the world had kept moving.

X

Training took ages. First, Jason had to regain muscle mass, then he had to learn how to adjust to his new wings.

And new wings they were indeed. Jason’s own had been too damaged and couldn’t be saved, so Talia had ensured Jason would receive a different pair. Wing transplantations had been done successfully only a handful of times, but access to a Lazarus Pit apparently made it a lot more manageable.

“Whose wings are they?” Jason asked only once.

“Yours,” Talia replied.

Jason stopped with his training exercises to observe her. “I meant before.”

She didn’t even bother to look away from her paperwork. The sheets were strange, covered in colors and neat lines.

“They belong to a strong man, and if not broken, they will always keep you in the sky. They’re yours.”

Jason didn’t speak up again.

X

Above him, the stars of the night sky were hidden away behind clouds while below him, the streets were mostly desolate. Jason adjusted his lenses, focused on his target. Then he jumped down from the building, unfurling his wings completely.

I look like him, Jason would think later when watching and deleting the security tapes. Crashing down on the disgusting excuse of a human being, Jason appeared as a vengeful terror of massive black wings.

Good.

X

“I need one of your feathers,” Talia said. “Preferably the biggest you have.”

Jason stopped polishing his guns to face her. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to, so?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just take whatever.”

He returned to his previous task, but sat op straight for better access, as Talia made her way around him. She mustered the feathers, softly moved her hands over them, before coming to a stop.

“This one,” she said and pulled at it so that Jason could feel which one she would take. “Brace yourself.”

Jason barely felt the pain. Truthfully speaking, he hardly got any kind of feedback from the wings. He could control them just fine, but the connection felt dulled.

“Thank you, Jason.”

“No problem,” he replied. “I’ll be leaving for Gotham tomorrow.”

“I know. I hope you’ll find what you seek there.”

Jason didn’t.

X

The new Robin was small and his wingspan frankly speaking pathetic. Barbara’s wings had been broken and her title had been taken by a small predator. There was another girl with bright wings she would have been better off with covering and Dick’s wings, of course, were obsessively clean and cared for as they had always been.

Bruce’s wings were smaller than he remembered. But then again, Jason wasn’t as short, young and naïve as he had been. Naturally, Batman wasn’t as grand as Jason had recalled.

As he had never been.

X

Talia asked him to come back and Jason refused. It would be too much like admitting defeat. Instead, he carved out his own territory, stayed away from the Bats. This was still his city and nothing short of death could make him leave, and even that hadn’t really stuck the last time.

X

It started with a call. One foolish, irritating call Jason hadn’t wanted to answer. He didn’t particularly hate the rest of the Bats anymore, and if they needed back up, he was there. Gotham wouldn’t suffer because of him or their incompetence.

Besides, it was Tim who had called.

Usually, Robin didn’t interact with him. Whether that was because Dick had told him off or because of their history, Jason didn’t know. He didn’t care either. He most certainly wasn’t curious why Tim had such a problem with Jason’s wings especially. Whenever he saw Jason, his eyes kept flickering to his wings and it didn’t annoy Jason at all.

Whatsoever.

Okay, maybe it did.

Jason had grown fond of his dark feathers. It wasn’t terribly hard when they were precisely what he had always wanted to have.

Either way, Tim calling, sounding seconds away from a panic attack and asking Jason to come to the Cave ASAP wasn’t something he was going to ignore out of anger.

What Jason expected to find was a crisis that would throw all of Gotham into disarrange.

Not a child with Talia’s green eyes and Bruce’s frown, waving a familiar feather in Bruce’s face while Tim sat at the other end of the Cave with Alfred by his side.

“What the hell?”

Bruce stood up straight, his cape concealing his wings.

“Jason,” Bruce said. If Bruce was surprised to see him, he didn’t show. “Did you know?”

Jason bit down on his rage. “Know what?”

“About Damian. Talia’s son.”

“And yours,” the child, Damian, added rather hot-headedly. His black wings twitched. “I have your feather as proof. Mother gave it to me.”

“This is not proof,” Tim hissed. “That’s just a stupid feather and Talia couldn’t have given you any of Bruce’s either way.”

“Stop talking to me, Drake. This is a conversation between father and son-“

“My name is Wayne, you damned brat-“

“Enough.”

Jason was getting a headache and if not for the fact that there was Talia’s son standing just a few meters away from him, he would have turned around on his heels and walked away again.

“Don’t antagonize each other.”

“But-“ Damian protested, only to stop talking when Bruce shot him a look.

“I don’t doubt that you are my son, but Tim is right. This feather isn’t mine.”

“But it looks like yours! I saw the photos of your wings. It’s the right color and shape, it even has the dark gray markings at the end. Mother said your wings were completely gray as a child and that’s the only leftover from it. Don’t call me a liar.”

Fighting crime was exhausting. You didn’t get much sleep, your body ached all over (except those times you were so full of pain killers, you couldn’t even tell when you got a new wound or if you were Jason and in general didn’t feel much of anything anymore) and every time you tried to fall asleep, either your nightmares or another gruesome murder would wake you up.

They all got tired, but Jason couldn’t think of a time Bruce had ever emitted such an aura of defeat.

“I’m not calling you liar, Damian. But the fact is that the feather can’t be mine. It cannot have been plucked from them.”

Damian’s face flushed in anger and desperation, perhaps. Your parents’ feathers, the ones they gave you willingly once you lost your last baby downs were something special. Jason had treasured Catherine’s, his real mother who had loved him until she couldn’t anymore, and Bruce’s like nothing else.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have wings anymore, Damian. I lost them a while ago when Bane took over Gotham.”

Jason felt like throwing up.

“Mother said Bane broke your spine and Lady Shiva trained you afterward to take back the city.”

They belong to a strong man, and if not broken, they will always keep you in the sky.

“That he did too.”

“But I saw your wings!”

“Fake. It would have been too suspicious if Bruce Wayne lost his wings at the same time as Batman.”

Jason liked to flare his wings when he left, make himself look bigger than he actually was, but right now he didn’t dare to move his no, no they weren’t they never them even an inch away from his body as he turned around and stormed outside.

Nobody would follow him.

They had bigger problems.

X

It wasn’t Bruce that tracked him down months later (because Bruce was dead, killed by a monster too big for grounded humans. Maybe, if he had been able to fly-) or Tim, who had disappeared with a bang to go on a never-ending search.

He had expected the little brat, coming to him for answers maybe, or Dick once he realized he wasn’t cut out for this Gotham anymore. Jason hardly knew the new Batgirl and he had never even spoken a word to Cassandra.

Somehow, despite her Big Brother-like presence, Jason had never accounted for Barbara.

“Your safe house isn’t very accessible,” she said and moved inside his apartment.

Of course, it wasn’t accessible. It was a cheap shithole in Crime Alley – what did she expect.

“What do you want?”

Jason used to adore Barbara. When he had first met her, she had been energetic and funny, told Batman off and thought Dick was an idiot. She had been bright and every ‘no’ was a challenge.

He couldn’t claim that he knew this version of her. She had calmed down, or maybe just grown as world-weary as the rest of them.

“We tried to find Bruce’s wings after Bane cut them off,” she said, going straight to business and delving right into Jason’s nightmares.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Barbara pushed up her glasses. “I think you need to.”

He could stop her if he wanted to. He doubted that any regular thugs could provide a challenge, her wheelchair didn’t look like standard either and he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she had hidden all kinds of small gadgets in there. The edges of Barbara’s wings were covered in light steel like those of many police officers. A hit from those hurt immensely.

However, Jason had trained to take down the Batman (lifetimes ago it felt like) and Oracle, while undoubtedly smarter, couldn’t fight like him.

“He took them as a trophy and while Tim and Alfred rushed to Bruce’s aid, I kept my eyes on them. I lost them while they were in Gotham still. We assumed that Bane had hidden them, but perhaps had lost them as well instead.”

“I didn’t know.”

His defense sounded weak in his own ears. He had known that the wings sewn to his back hadn’t been the wings of the closest dead body Talia could find. Every action had meaning for her, every cruel gift well-meant wasn’t just efficient but a puzzle to solve.

He should have insisted. He should have kept asking.

“When I woke up, really as myself and not full of rage or catatonic, they were already there. Talia meant well, she only wanted to help.”

Barbara kept silent for a while, let her gaze drift to the blood on the ground, the guns on the table and the take-out food on the mattress. Jason hadn’t been handling things well in the last weeks.

“In winter,” she spoke up suddenly, “when Dick and I were young, Bruce used to cover us with his wings on observation missions because we, young and stupid, refused to put on the ugly winter uniforms. The two of us could fit right beneath one wing with still so much space left over.”

Jason remembered that. Bruce always covered Jason with his wings every time he felt like he had an excuse for it. There was no word to describe the warmth Jason had felt then.

“What do you want, Oracle?”

Barbara crossed her arms, still the perfect picture of resistance.

“I need you to come home and work with us. We’re missing three of our heavy hitters and Dick’s busy trying to reign in Damian half the time they’re on patrol. You feel ashamed of these wings? Then do something worthwhile with them. I need to be able to count on you and I need you to actually cover us. This city’s never been alright when even one of us is gone.”

Alright. Okay.

Jason could understand desperation. You didn’t claw your way out of your coffin simply because you felt like it. He could do this.

He had to.

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [9/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #cemetery #haunting

First Chapter

Author’s Note: More dialogue from Under the Red Hood, just moved around a bit and tweaked to suit the situation. 

________________________________________________________________

Bruce stares at him in silence for a long while and then seems to shake himself.

“No,” he says at last. “It…can't be.”

But his tone is less certain.

“Can be and is. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth’ and all that jazz,” Jason quips. “But I know you. I can’t just talk about collecting first editions with Alfred or going to races with you or Dick teaching me to train surf. Someone could be using telepathy to lift that from your mind, right? Nah, you’ll be wantin’ proof, so here—”

“Here.” Jason crouches and takes off his gloves, picking up the discarded Batarang from earlier and whips it expertly at Bruce, who catches it without anything changing in the exposed part of his face. “My blood’s already on that. Fingerprints, too. Maybe even some skin-cells if you cut me deep enough.”

“It won’t make me believe.”

But there’s doubt in his voice, and he pockets the blade anyhow.

“Yeah, it will,” Jason replies. “You’re Mr. Logic and Science. It’ll tell you exactly who I am—or rather, it’ll confirm exactly who you know I am.”

Bruce’s jaw works furiously.

“How…how did this happen to you?” he asks softly, cautious. “Were you—was there a Lazarus Pit involved?”

“Not as far as I know. If there was, don’t you think your baby mama would have taunted you with it by now? She always liked to fuck with your head.”

Bruce tenses.

“Oh, yeah, I got the full 411 on what’s been happening since I 'ran down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible',” Jason says irreverently. “Mazel tov, but the way. Is it too late to send an arrangement of blue balloons?”

No response.

“What’s that bring the total up to now, anyway? Three? Four? When exactly did collecting orphans become a compulsion for you, chum?”

Jason sneers that last word, and yet something about it seems to physically jar both man and Bat. The cowl is off then as if somehow, Bruce can no longer trust the lenses of the cowl and needs his own eyes.

Jason’s irritation wavers for a moment, replaced with a lump in his throat as his own gaze roves over the man’s face with a hunger of their own, tempered by disbelief.

Bruce looks older. He could still pass for at least a decade younger than his actual age, but the look in his eyes speaks of a lifetime of fighting. There are wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, grey flecks around his temples and a few more scars than Jason remembers. Skin stretches just a little bit thinner over his cheekbones and jaw.

His eyes are sharp as ever, cataloging every detail of Jason, no doubt comparing it to his last memories of the boy he was.

The boy that’s dead.

Bruce tentatively moves forward, and Jason’s instinct is to take a step backward, to avoid letting the other man into his personal space. He has no interest in Round Two or the prick of a needle leading to him waking up in a cell in the cave hours from now.

But then his eye catches on two figures watching the proceedings from several feet away, and he’s so surprised he forgets about Bruce for a minute.

Martha Wayne is polished and put-together, the only indication of anything amiss being the broken string of pearls hanging from her neck and the blossoming red stain at her breast. Thomas Wayne looks exactly like every picture Jason’s ever seen of him, Bruce’s spitting image but somehow…lighter. The wound that killed him is hidden beneath a thick overcoat, but trails of blood dripping down to stain his white gloves is telling.

For a moment they are a perfect portrait, and then in another blink, they flicker, clutching at their wounds. In another, they lie on the ground gasping and reaching for each other, trapped in their death echo. And then they’re back to standing, watching Bruce with pained expressions on their faces.

Guess the family plot’s a bit closer than I thought it was.

Any further ruminations on their semi-invisible audience vanish when arms encircle Jason, and it should be a reflex to pull away, to knock the grasp away. Self-preservation and all.

And yet, he knows these arms, knows the smell of cologne and the specific brand of Kevlar in a way that bypasses every bit of training he’s ever had, which causes him to remain perfectly still as Batman—Bruce, Dad—holds him tightly to him.

For whatever reason—an impossibly rare break from his usual paranoia, perhaps—Bruce doesn’t dose him with any kind of sedative or go for a nerve-strike.

He just…

Holds him.

Jason’s back is beginning to ache from how straight he’s trying to keep it, and at last, he can’t take it anymore and pulls back. Puts several steps between them so that he can regain his equilibrium.

Bruce takes a step back as well as if remembering himself. He lapses back into his tense but alert stance, but his eyes are suspiciously bright in the moonlight.

“When?” he asks eventually.

“By all accounts about six months after I died.” Bruce’s expression becomes calculating, even as he continues to study Jason. “Wouldn’t happen to have any idea how that could’ve happened, could you? John and I never figured it out, and you have all those fun League resources.”

Bruce recoils almost imperceptibly.  

“John?” he repeats, eyes flicking over Jason again. His nose twitches and then his brows draw together. “Constantine.”

It should not surprise Jason that Bruce makes the connection so fast.

“Got it in one.”

“He would have said. He’d have contacted me—”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Jason interrupts. “Because he didn’t know. Not until weeks after he found me. And by the time I remembered everything, I didn’t want him to. Say what you want about his morals, he stays out of other people’s personal business.”

Bruce ignores the dig.

“Why?” Bruce croaks instead. “Why didn’t you come home?”

“Didn’t think there was anything for me to come back to. Figured you’d be happier with me gone. I mean, you hauled a new kid into the thick of it within like three months, so obviously I wasn’t that hard to replace.”

“It didn’t happen that way.”

“I owe you a broken jaw for that, by the way. After I died, no one else should’ve worn that cape.”

“And now?” Bruce challenges. “All this time, you’ve been alive. You’ve avoided Gotham. But you choose to return now. And do things like this.” He gestures at the graveyard. “This crime—violating others’ final resting places—human remains, for god’s sake, Jason! If you wanted to get my attention, there are easier ways!”

Jason’s jaw drops a bit, and he feels his hackles rise.

And there it is.

“Are you serious right now?” he snaps. “You think this is about you?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow as if to say it’s exactly what he thinks, and Jason bursts out laughing. There’s a bitter edge to it, and the older man flinches for some reason.

“Damn, I knew you were conceited, but this just takes the cake,” Jason snorts. “Contrary to popular belief, not everything that goes on in Gotham is about Bruce Wayne. Or Batman.”

“You’re evading the question.”

“Bullshit! This is my fucking job,” Jason snaps.

“Desecrating graves.”

“Helping people move on. Stopping people from getting hurt. Put that thinking cap of yours on, ‘detective’. Why the hell do you think Constantine took me in in the first place?”

The way his eyes narrow at the challenge, considering their surroundings and the gear Jason is wearing, the tools and the specifics of what he was doing and what he’s just said. And then understanding flashes across his face.

“You’re an occultist.

“Ding-ding-ding! Right again. Guess dying and coming back from the dead leaves a guy predisposed to certain, huh? Unless I’ve always been this way and just never knew. I doubt it, though. You’ve analyzed my blood a hundred times and you never mentioned any metahuman or magic genes. And I never saw dead people before I was, you know, dead.”

That causes a wince.

“You know I was in Arkham, for a while?” Jason asks conversationally. “For like half a year. Bet you visited the place a lot, considering the revolving door of nutcases. You were probably standing on the same floor as me a dozen times and didn’t even know it.”

Bruce tries to disguise the pain that flashes across his face at that direct hit, but Jason sees it nonetheless.

“The mentally ill are of no interest to Batman, though, right? Not unless they’re criminally insane.”

“I know…I know I failed you, Jason…I tried to save you. Whatever it is that’s happening to you now—I’ll keep trying to save you, and if I had had even an inkling that you were still alive—”

“Is that what you think I’m pissed off about?” Jason demands. “You letting me die? I don’t know what clouds your judgment worse, your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality. I forgave you for not saving me, Bruce—forgave you years before I forgave my own flesh and blood. But why…why…” His voice breaks a little here, “the hell is that pasty-faced pile of human excrement still alive?”

Bruce’s expression becomes like stone. “Joker.”

“The Joker. Yeah, B, him. If you’d just killed the fucker years ago—whether anything happened to me or not—you know what hell you would have saved the world?” Jason snaps. “But no. Punching that piece of shit’s ticket’s just one of a long list of sane acts you still refuse to commit.”

“I can’t cross that line,” Bruce says tightly.

“But I can,” Jason says. “And I will. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last five years, death comes to those who deserve death, B. It’s probably why I clocked out early. I wasn’t exactly the golden boy like Dickiebird, was I?”

“Jason, no—”

“But that’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it. Someone somewhere must have even decided I deserved a chance to make up for it because here I am.” Jason spreads his arms wide. “And I’m going to make up for it. Lot of dead people out there that need to be avenged. And a lot of monsters out there, standing in the way.”

“Monsters like Felipe Garzonas?” Bruce challenges.

The name hastens memories of a woman’s lifeless body hanging from a ceiling and a man’s sneering, triumphant smile.

Jason clenches his fists.

“If they get in my way, sure,” he replies. “In another life, maybe I’d even make it my mission. To take out the scum you refuse to. But these days, I’m on a different playing field, and the stakes a higher than some rapist that fell out a window.”

“If you’re saying you intend to go after the Joker—I can’t let you.”

Jason almost chokes in rage and disbelief. “Why the hell not?!”

“Because I won’t have my son become a murderer for him.”

“Didn’t you hear, old man? Your son died a long time ago. I’m a completely different person now, and you’re a few years too late. I’ve killed a lot of people and slept like a baby right after because those fuckers deserved it.” Jason clenches his fists, recalling the torn and mutilated bodies murderers that would never be caught by traditional means—legal or vigilante. Capping monsters like that was a civic duty. “Lot of people don’t get any kind of justice once they’re gone, and I’m it.”

“Jason, that’s not your call to make.”

“Says the man who dresses up as a bat and fights crime,” Jason shoots back. “All of your adult life, you’ve fought to save Gotham. Save her from herself, but you never ever understood her. You’ve never seen what I see now.” He casts his eyes around the graveyard, at the torn remnants of humanity in their various stages of self-torture. “She’s evil. Poisoned by the dead that clog her foundations—that have been piling up here since the first nutjob spilled blood in her earth. You have to fight her where she lives, B, and it’s not just the rooftops at night.”

“That might be so,” Bruce allows. “But it’s one thing to seek justice on behalf of the dead…if that’s what you intend to do. But going after a human being, even one as depraved as the Joker—"

“How can you still call him a human being?! Even ignoring what he’s done in the past—blindly, stupidly disregarding the entire graveyards he’s filled—” He points toward the various specters in the distance, who Bruce can’t see but who scream and cry and laugh hysterically through the smiling rictus that is the Joker’s signature, to the dying echoes of Thomas and Martha Wayne, “—the thousands who have suffered, the friends he’s crippled—” He remembers Tim’s expression and makes an educated guess, “—the family he’s tortured.”

Bruce’s wince is the confirmation he needs.

“I thought that him killing me, that I’d be the last person you ever let him hurt,” Jason admits in a soft voice, his rage quieting behind pain and sadness. “If it had been you he beat to a bloody mess...if it had been you that he left in agony...if he had taken you—I would have done nothing but search the planet for the pathetic pile of evil, death-worshipping garbage and sent him off to hell!"

“You don’t understand…I don’t think you’ve ever understood…”

“What? Your moral code just won’t allow for it? It’s too hard to cross that line?”

“It’d be too damned easy!” Bruce snaps.

There would be a ringing silence between them if not for the ghostly moans in the night.

“All I have ever wanted to do is kill him,” Bruce continues, eyes blazing. “For years, a day hasn’t gone by where I haven’t imagined taking him and spending an entire month putting him through the most horrendous, mind-boggling forms of torture. All of it building to an end with him broken, butchered and maimed…pleading—screaming—in the worse kind of agony as he careens into a monstrous death.” He grows quieter here. “I want him dead—maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But if I do that, if I allow myself to go down into that place, I’ll never come back.”

Jason takes several seconds to parse all of that, examining the reasons and justifications that are so different than what he expected, before registering the problem with that.

“Why?”

Bruce blinks. “What?”

“You wouldn’t feel guilty killing a cockroach, or wiping out a bacterium that could destroy millions,” Jason points out. “And that’s what he is. All he exists to do is destroy. It’s not like Cobblepot or Crane or Dent or Nygma. Much as I always thought they all deserve the death penalty, there’s something in them that at least resembles having been human at some point. The Joker has never—will never—be human. You can’t judge filth like that by human standards.”

But he can already see by the obstinate set of Bruce’s jaw that he is unmoved by this argument.

“I can’t, Jason,” he says. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

“Then don’t. Just don’t get in the way when someone else tries to do it.”

“Someone being you? I can’t let that happen either. I won’t let you sully yourself over the likes of him—”

“He killed me!” Jason roars. “I was sullied the second he brought out the crowbar. If anyone on this planet has a right—has a duty—to be the chlorine in that maniac’s gene pool, it’s me!”

“Jason—!”

“He took me away from you!”

The words echo, not as sharp or reprimanding as Jason meant, but laced with a vulnerability he hasn’t allowed himself to show since before he died.

He needs to take a few moments to breathe, to gulp down the sob that’s threatening the back of his throat, hysterical and pained and scared the way he hasn’t been in years.

“He took everything,” Jason concludes. “He took my life. He took my future. But worst of all, he took me from the first person I ever really believed gave a shit about me. And that…that’s just me. How many other kids got to die gasping for breath, waiting for their fathers to rescue them?”

And for a split second, Bruce’s entire façade shatters and he looks—lost. Frightened. Agonized.

“Jason…” he says after a beat, more broken than Batman has any right to sound. “Just…come home. We’ll figure this out—all of it. Together.”

And Jason…he’s tempted.

But he came back to Gotham for a reason, and it wasn’t to mend relations with anyone.

“And when the Joker breaks out again?” Jason asks quietly. “When he hunts you and everyone you care about down and puts you through another round of mental and physical torture? When you have to bury another kid? Or two? Or Alfred? Will 'figure this out together' mean you’ll step aside and do what needs to be done? Or are you just going to cart him back to Arkham?”

There is nothing but silence at this, but Jason already has his answer.

He exhales, shoulders slumping a bit.

As tempting as it would be to fall back into what he lost—as tempting as it would be to be Jason Todd-Wayne again in some way—this is something he can’t compromise on.

And he learned from the best that the only way to keep from compromising is to establish clear, immovable boundaries. And if that’s impossible, then burn down whatever bridges might traverse them.

“The manor was never my home, any more than it was yours,” Jason says dully at last. “Those streets you patrol every night, the people on them—people the Joker’s going to keep killing—that’s home. And if you’re not going to defend it, I am.”

Bruce appears to hear what he isn’t saying, and that seems to take the fight out of him. As if he understands that no amount of arguing is going to change either of their stances today, if ever. Instead, he straightens his back and looms into his most imposing Batman stance and pulls the cowl back on.

“I won’t tolerate criminal conspiracy in Gotham. Occult or otherwise.”

“Tough shit,” Jason shoots back. “This is my town. Probably more than it’s yours since I actually came up on these streets.”

“If that’s how you want it to be, that’s your choice. But if you cause any disturbances of that nature—if I catch you desecrating any more graves—if you go anywhere near the Joker—I will bring you in.”

“That threat would be more effective if I couldn’t rattle off the names of every cape in town, and you know it.”

“I never said you’d be going to jail.”

And Jason knows that this will lead to another fight, one he’ll no doubt lose—

Except there’s an explosion in the distance.

They both look up reflexively, watching Gotham’s skyline illuminate with electric blue light.

“Looks like the office is calling,” Jason points out. “My money’s on Freeze. He never did like the summertime.”

Bruce’s jaw clenches, eyes flitting from Jason to the city.

“Can’t let the bad guys get away, old man. Mission before family, right? The way it’s always been?” He turns, keeping Bruce in his periphery. “I’m going home. I’d give you the address, but I’m pretty sure you’ll find it on your own anyway. Wouldn’t want to give you the impression that you’re welcome there.”

“Jason…”

“Maybe we can do this again sometime like normal human beings,” he continues. “But I swear to everything hellish and holy, if you drag me back to the cave for interrogation or lock me up, I will get out. And I will make the rest of your life a living hell. Until then, fuck off. You don’t get to talk to me unless you decide to do something about the clown.”

He turns away, casting a frown at Thomas and Martha Wayne’s shades, wondering if he should say anything to Bruce about them just now.

He decides against it.

It’s a whole other rabbit hole to get pulled down.

Instead, he tips a salute as he walks away. “Say hello to the pretty bird for me. Kid keeps his word. Didn’t think that was possible for anyone in the Family.”

⁂⁂⁂

To Be Continued

________________________________________________________________

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn't something you're comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel! 

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled �� = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels

Reblogging is also majorly appreciated! 

[ellana-ravenwood]

The World is an asshole - Superboy x Batsis (reader)

So I wanted to write a Clark Kent story but have kind of a writer’s block on it right now so...What’s the next best thing ? CONNER Kent. Yup. Totally. So here’s a story with Conner dating Batsis and blahblahblah. This is somewhat of a continuation of my stories “You’re kind of an asshole” and “they’re kind of asshole”. ...This is too long, sorry for the super long story, hope you’ll still like it: 

PART 1, PART 2

My master list blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_________________________________________________

The World was kind of an asshole. 

It’s the only thought you have as everything happens. 

The World was kind of an asshole. 

Oh  you had enough. 

This was just too much. You couldn’t handle it. 

Why could nothing go your way ?! Why everything had to always be so damn difficult ? You were so close from a nervous breakdown. 

THIS WAS ALL TOO MUCH ! 

And no one could help you. You were all alone in this.

No one could cheer you up. 

Not even Conner’s reassuring arms and kisses, your brothers’ soothing words and hugs or your dad’s smile could make things better. If this thing wasn’t working, your life would just be ruined...

In a last, and full of spite, action, you...punch the AC with all your might.

And, thanks all the Gods that ever existed, it turns on again. With a sigh of contentment you stay in front of the cool air and life comes back to you again. 

It was summer time and the heat was killing you. 

You were a creature of the cool and refreshing air of the night. 

From Gotham City at that, a place where, for over two third of the year, it was rain, thunderstorms and snow. 

Hot weather always got to you. Making you grumpy (grumpier than usually, you were a Wayne after all) and irritable. 

And of course, the AC at the Young Justice’s headquarters was broken, and no one seemed to know how to fix it...Well, that was until you punched the main panel that was in the room you all hung in the most, making it work again somehow. And damn it felt good.

Relishing in the cold wind brushing you, you closed your eyes and sigh once more. After a few minutes of standing there, finally refreshed and in a giddy mood once more, you open your eyes and join your friends back on the couches everyone was sitting on. 

They didn’t even register what you just did, used to you and your antics but...Wally can’t help but say : 

-Do you really have to punch all your problems away ? 

You smile and chuckle lowly, as you sit next to Conner and his arms automatically wrap around your shoulders. 

-Hey, I’ve been raised by the Punch Master, dude. So, the answer is : yes. Yes I do. Besides, AC’s working again so...you know. 

Wally can’t help the smile creeping on his face, though he tries to act completely exasperated for good measure. You’re about to say something else but are distracted by Conner kissing your cheek tenderly...he can never resist. Whenever you’re being even just a tiny bit sassy, he just feels the need to kiss you, because oh damn he loves that part of your personality. 

That’s when he and your brothers come in. 

Your dad. The Batman. He tries to ignore as best as possible your dazed smile as Conner peppers kiss down your jaw, he tries to ignore your girly giggle and looks away, saying : 

-Are you talking about me ? 

And oh he knows the grin on your face is full of smugness. He knows that you’re very happy that he’s finally trying to accept that Conner is your boyfriend but...he also knows that you’re your mother’s daughter, and mischievously teasing him is one of your favorite past time. You turn your head to him, pulling away from Conner and says : 

-And yet again my beloved dad, you surprise me at how great of a detective you are. The best in the World in fact. 

He smirks at you and antics, and his expression ALMOST doesn’t change when his eyes meet Conner’s. There’s ALMOST no suspicion at all in his gaze when he looks upon your boyfriend. 

Conner is still not used to your family (except for Dick that always supported you two) to be nice to him...Like, yesterday morning, when Damian gave him cookies he was pretty sure they were poisoned with Kryptonite but...no. They were just normal cookies. 

It seemed like the threat of never talking to them again worked wonder. But still, it was a bit weird that they were so damn nice. 

You were about so say something when your father turns to Conner and says :

-May I speak to you, Superboy ? 

You roll your eyes at the formal “Superboy” and lay back in the couch, resisting the urge to make-out with Conner just to spite your dad and brothers, and watch as your boyfriend goes to your father. You give the mighty Batman a look that means : “Careful, I’ll fight ya” and he nods, rolling his eyes at you but...he knows you’re not kidding. If he does anything that you think is rude to your boyfriend, then you will fight him...You’ll never hit your dad though (only ACs), but oh your words were sharper than swords. 

You observe your dad as he speaks to Conner, and try to look for any change in Conner’s body..You know your boyfriend can get mad easily, and is always kind of on the defensive and...He’s smiling. And your father lays a fatherly hand on his shoulder. Wow. Ok. That was unexpected. 

When your dad called you to excuse himself from wanting to break you and Conner up, you never expected him to be so into making amend. And yet, every day he surprised you, he even let Conner sleep at the Manor with you ! Though you could totally hear him pace the corridors, trying to listen in to any suspicious noises...Needless to say you did NOT make love that night. You were totally up for it but...The Batman kinda freaked Conner out really. 

You smiled at the memory (it really was hilarious to witness your boyfriend, the super-strengthed super-powerful dude, sleeping like a plank at the opposite side of you, afraid to even brush his toes against your feet because he was scared of a human he could probably break in half if he wanted...well, not like your dad would let him really), and barely register that Conner is back and is sitting next to you again, a stupid smile on his face. 

You quickly glance at your dad who shyly smiles back to you and...What’s happening ? You’re about to ask Conner but he answers before you can say anything : 

-Your dad just told me I could be your official date for tonight’s gala. I mean...if you want to. 

Oh. OH ! This meant a lot. A LOT ! Coming with an “official date” at any social events meant that you were basically announcing that your relationship was a serious one and...were you ready for such a commitment ? Yes. Yes you totally were. You turn to your boyfriend and smile, kissing him on the lips. You pull away to say : 

-Of course I want to Conner, I love you. 

But before he can say “I love you” back, your youngest brother, Damian, comes and sits right between you two, an upset expression on his face and...you can’t help but chuckle. 

Out of all the members of your family, your little brother was the one struggling the most with this all “accepting that his beloved sister is dating a man” thing, and though he’d do some effort, if he was present, he’d always make sure to stand between the two of you...Which spurred him being in very awkward situation as you just didn’t care for his presence and kissed each other above him (you were taller than him). 

Oh, how cute was this little munchkin...

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

You could clearly see he wasn’t comfortable. It was so obvious it was almost painful. It was also totally adorable, the way he’d awkwardly walk with your hand in his, wearing one of Jason’s tuxedo...

When you arrived at the gala event, and got out of the car, you could almost hear people gasped. What ? Bruce Wayne��s precious daughter was...dating ? In the public mind, you were still a little girl even though you were actually an adult now. They saw you grow up, they followed your every step (well, almost every step) and to see that now...you were officially dating someone ? It was something. 

It would make every headline of every newspaper in the area the next day. 

You tried to prep Conner a bit, explaining to him how things would unfold and...he just seemed so sure of himself, saying : “I know, I saw you guys on TV multiple times”, that you ended up not worrying for him and...oh damn he actually had no idea what was awaiting him. 

Flashes of a hundred cameras blinded him, thousands of questions about you and his relationship with you thrown at him in a matter of minutes, all the attention on him and just so many people completely obsessed with you and every single move your family made ! 

You, Bruce and your brothers were used to it. You didn’t particularly like it but...you grew up with it. But Conner ? Or poor man...

You tried to make him feel better by holding his hand tight and smiling a lot at him and you even gave to the public what they wanted...You kissed him. You didn’t think about it too much though, you didn’t think about the articles that would be written with pictures of you two kissing...you just wanted him to feel better. 

And it worked. A bit. As the night went on, he felt more and more relaxed and you...angrier and angrier. 

You know it’s stupid but..you can’t help it. All those girls flirting with YOUR Conner ? Goddammit. Yes, he’s very hot, but he’s also very taken, go away bitches thank you very much. You were getting more and more annoyed when your oldest brother, Dick, taking advantage of a bathroom break Conner had to take and the fact that you were alone right now, came close to you and, throwing an arm around your shoulders said : 

-You know, jealousy makes you look ugly. 

-Wow damn, thanks bro’. 

-You know what I mean. 

-In fact, I have no idea. Except that you just call me ugly, and that you’re a terrible brother. 

He chuckles and you smile at him, as he continues : 

-Oh who am I kidding ? Even when you’re jealous and frowning you’re cute. And there’s really no reason to be jealous. 

-Oh really ? Have you seen all those damn models lurking around him ? Using every moment I’m not looking to wink at him ? Touching his damn muscles RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME ?! 

-Yes I’ve seen them. But I also saw how Conner didn’t even look at any of them. Not one second. He had eyes only for you, quite literally. He kept his arm around you, and didn’t even notice their touch at all, to focus on your damn lips and please, tell him to stop because, even though you know I support 100% this relationship, it’s kinda gross to see one of your best friend lusting after your sister so...

-Oh my god Dick, do you have to make it weird ? 

-Of course I do, that’s what big brothers are for ! 

You roll your eye and your brother leaves as Conner comes back. 

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

The rest of the evening is going perfectly well, except for that small little thing...An ex of yours, son of a billionaire who owns a pharmaceutical enterprise, comes to talk to you and...Thanks god your brothers are here to stop Conner before he punch “the jerk”. 

It’s true though, that this particular ex, Antoine Gregory, always been kind of a jerk, and might have stalked you a little bit after you broke up with him (nothing everyone serious between the two of you...well, you were your father’s daughter you know), until your dad took care of it (to this day, you still have no idea what happened). 

**********

Months go by, and you bring Conner to more and more social event, with no accident noticeable. He blends right in, though he still finds it difficult and weird to stand for photos so much...All around town, no one seem to be able to talk about something else but your relationship ! 

You’re at an important charity when someone, for the first time, ask if marriage is in the question and...The look on Conner’s face. He turns to you, hopeful, waiting for an answer and...oh my God, he totally wants to marry you and you don’t know how to feel about that ! Do you wanna get married ? You love him but...are you ready for THAT kind of commitment ? 

A damn wasp stings you, cutting all of your thoughts and saving you from an uncomfortable and awkward conversation as you go to the bathroom to pour some water on the sting

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

The idea that Conner wants to marry doesn’t seem to want to leave your mind and...You know now. You know what you’d say if he asks you : 

“No.”

Because you’re not ready for this. You’re not ready for that kind of big jump and...The more you think about it, the more it makes you question your feelings toward your boyfriend. 

Do you...actually really love him ? 

After all, you always kind of had a crush on him, because he was so mysterious and handsome..;and the fact that M’Gann was dating him made you jealous and all, which spurred even more feelings but...

Was it really more than a crush ? Because if it was, after almost three quarter of a year of dating, you should kinda think about marriage right ? It should be in the question, and even if you weren’t ready for it, it shouldn’t stir so much conflicted feelings in you ! 

As you lay in your bed, wide awake, you cannot stop thinking about it. 

Do you really love Conner Kent ? 

And as you receive a text from him saying “Good night my princess, I love you” you realize that...maybe it was just some sort of teenage infatuation. 

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

You know you have to tell him. You know it’s not right to keep going as if nothing is happening, as if your feelings towards him start to drastically change, as you realize that;..you were probably never in love with him. 

It was just a crush. That returned your feelings and you were happy but...you didn’t love him. You’re sure of it. Because as you realized this, whenever he kissed you, your heart didn’t beat wildly now. Whenever he held you, you didn’t feel as happy as you used to and...You wished you never realized that you weren’t in love, because things were just so easy before. 

Now, you have to tell him, and you have no idea how he’ll react. But you have to tell him. 

You ask him to follow you in a room far from everyone, and...you tell him. 

The look he gives you as you’re explaining what’s on your heart is shattering. You feel so guilty, and so sad for him but...pretending isn’t the right thing to do either. You couldn’t wait for him to one day propose to you and say “no, I don’t love you” could you now ? 

It had to be said. Fast. Ripped like a band-aid. 

He’s stunned at first and, not quite understanding, he says : 

-But...but I love you...

-I know Conner but...I don’t. Not anymore. I...I just...I’m sorry. 

-What changed ? What did I do ? 

-You didn’t do anything Kon ! It’s not you, I just...I just think I might take a bit too much after my father and be emotionally retarded you know ? Like I thought I loved you but...

-No ? 

You shake your head negatively. 

-So...So you never loved me ? 

His voice is so broken that you’re almost tempted to lie to him and say that you did but...that would give him hope. That would make him think he could win you back and you know it’s just not possible so you agree. 

Yes. You never actually loved him. 

-All those things you said, you didn't mean them then ? 

-I thought I did Conner but...

-No, stop. Shut up. That’s enough. I...I heard enough. And...As you wish. 

-I’m so sorry Conner, we can still be friend, I still love you as a friend and that I know and..

-Yes yes. Sure. I...I just need to go. 

He leaves the room so fast you barely see him, and when you go outside and Tim comes to you to ask what is going on, you shake your head sadly and say : 

-We broke up. 

What ? You and Conner broke up ? But you were so in love ! When he asked what happened you just tell him you don’t love him anymore and your brother seems...confused. Shocked. Stunned. You don’t love Conner anymore ? That’s new...But he already knew you were the one that broke up, as he saw tears in his friend’s eyes when he left the YJ headquarters...

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

“Heartbreak” doesn’t even begin to describe what Conner is. 

Devastated, destroyed, shattered would be closer...He’s so angry at himself to be so touched by you breaking up with him, it was just a stupid relationship, it wasn’t the end of the world, he’d find love again but...he can’t help it ! 

He doesn’t wanna find love again. He wants you. 

He doesn’t want to move on. He wants you. 

In fact, it’s more than that. He knows he will never be able to love again, or to move on...You would forever hold a part of his heart. The biggest part. 

He refused to speak to anyone, especially not you and...even more so since every single person he spoke to just seemed more confused about the break up than anything else. 

It didn’t make sense that you’d break up with him, you were always annoying everyone with him and it was so obvious you were in love but...Maybe not. Maybe they misread you. Reading a Wayne’s emotions properly was tough after all..

But even your own dad who was against the all relationship to start with didn’t understand. When he talked about it with you you just repeated what you told your brothers : you were just not in love anymore. 

Everyone’s pity made him angry, and Conner just...had to go away. He just had to leave. He couldn’t even bear the thought to be in the same building than you without being able to touch you, smell you, kiss you, embrace you...it was too difficult. 

Every time he even had a small glance of you, his heart would be torn away once more, and he’d just want to tear up and GOD HE HATED THIS ! Why couldn’t he be strong ? Why ? 

-Are you ok kid ? 

Conner, startles, makes a huge jump in the air and turns around and...it’s Superman. The man he admires and wants to be close to, but that keeps ignoring him. Yet another one that he loves, but that don't seem to reciprocate, to care at all...Clark keeps a distance with him. 

-How’d you find me ? 

Conner asks, and Clark smiles. 

-I also had a place I liked to go to be alone. My fortress of solitude. And it was similar to this place. 

-You followed me. 

-I followed you. 

-WHy ? 

-To see if you were ok. 

-You don’t even care. What’s the real reason ? 

-I do care. And...I know how tough a break up can be. I know how...

-YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ! The love of your life is Lois ! And you’re with her ! You married her ! You had Jon with her ! I know what you’re going to tell me, that I’ll find someone too one day and blahblahblah but that’s wrong. I won’t find anyone, she was...She was my everything ! My all world ! And I thought...I thought she cared. I thought she really cared, and I guess I was a fool for that. The thing is, I wanted to marry her, to have children with her ! Not now of course, but I wanted all of that. She was my Lois...She...She...and now...She never even loved me Clark...She never even loved me...

Conner falls to his knees or rather...almost does. Because Clark is there. He catches him. And when he starts to sob, to cry and wet Clark’s costume...the man lets him. Because the boy need him. And this time, he can’t ignore it. 

He knows. He sees. He understands. 

Clark knows how you never even loving him for one second, at least not like he wished you’d love him, was destroying him. 

Clark sees how it affects him, not just mentally, but also physically, as if without you he’s just weaker. As if your absence is his actual kryptonite. 

Clark understands, but not quite...because Conner’s right. He never experienced the “true love” heartbreak. He was with the love of his life. And...He had to admit that the way Conner looked at and talked about you...yes, yes you were his true love. And oh terrible it was that this was only a one sided one...

Clark would have never come to see the boy if he didn’t know how important it was, how broken Conner was...His Ma’ told him. She saw him for a few seconds and..Yes. 

Conner was forever broken. He could never be whole anymore. Not without you. 

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

Conner started to avoid the YJ headquarters when M’Gann kept wanting to talk to him. What decided him was this conversation he had with her : 

-How are you holding up Conner ? 

-Fine. 

-Are you sure ? You know you can tell me anything ? 

-I also know that if you want to know anything you’ll just read my mind, as you always do.

-True. And...I don’t understand. 

-What don’t you understand ? 

-She clearly doesn’t love you. I saw it in her mind. She used to but...something changed. I don’t know what. But she doesn’t love you anymore. I checked. And I promise I’m not lying. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t going all “Batman” on you with his “I can’t have a relationship” thing and all and...no. She really doesn’t love you and...

-Why are you telling me this ? 

The pain in Conner’s voice broke M’Gann’s heart.

-Because I do love you, and I’m here, I care. More than her. And you used to love me and I’m sure you can find in yourself...

-I’m sorry. 

-Uh ? 

-If I hurt you just half as much as I’m hurting right now, then I’m sorry. But I...I don’t love you. I love her. With every fiber of my being. And...I’m sorry M’Gann I can’t be talking about this right now. 

He leaves, with the intent of not coming back. 

And his pain is so vivid, that M’Gann can feel it in her brain. It’s nothing compare to what she felt when he broke up with her. Nothing. And she realizes that...Conner’s love for you is way WAY stronger than anything he ever felt for ANYONE. She wished she could talk to you but you haven’t come to the headquarters for so long...

Come to think of it, it’s a bit weird really...

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

You don’t see Conner for month, and surprisingly...it’s alright. What ? You can’t feel guilty forever. It’s not your fault you’re not loving him ! 

Your ex, Antoine, the one that used to stalk you, resurface all of a sudden and...you turn him down. Of course you do. Like, there’s a reason you broke up with him. He seems more confused than angry as to why you’re still refusing him but, whatever right ? 

Dick and Tim try to talk to you about Conner, but you don't want to. You know what they’re going to say and you’re not ready to be guilt tripped. It’s not your fault you’re not in love anymore...Besides, Conner is their best friend, of course they’ll say something defending him. 

No, you don’t wanna fight with them, so you avoid them. 

Come to think of it, you avoid most people really. Even your father, while you always loved his presence. Hell, even your mother. And it almost scares you how you don’t really care, how you don’t mind not seeing any of them. 

It almost scares you how you start to feel nothing for them, just a mild friendship. How your family becomes...secondary. Hell, even tertiary. 

All that’s important right now, is to have fun, and each night, instead of going to patrol, you go out. You haven’t come home to the manor in days and...Bruce knows there’s something wrong with you. 

He doens’t recognize his little girl and he just knows. Something is wrong. 

***********

Seeing you flirting with those guys on the TV is awful. 

Conner doesn’t even know why he’s watching those stupid celebrity news show...Actually, he does know. 

It hurts him like hell whenever he sees you with a different guy (or even girl) each night but...at least he sees you. He sees your smile and he can almost remember how good it felt to hold you in his arms, your smell and...

It’s torture. Pure torture. 

He’s hurting himself by watching those stupid celebrity news, seeing you in someone else’s arms each time...And your smile, it’s not the smile he loves so much...it’s almost..wicked...

One night, as he watches you once more on the TV, something happens. 

But of course it’d happen someday. You were the famous (Y/N) Wayne. Of course they’d target you in such an easy place to access ! 

The camera cuts just as a few heavily armed men enters the vicinity. One shot. One shot and the camera cuts. The last image being your face as the gun turns to you...

He doesn’t even think about it, before he knows it, he’s out. 

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

He arrives even before your father. Actually, maybe your father doesn’t even know what’s going on yet...And Conner isn’t about to wait for him. 

Those guys have guns. Pointed at you. He has to save you...

The nightclub is now empty, expect for you and them. 

You don't even seem scared and...what is going on with you ? He doesn’t recognize you, it’s as if you don’t feel ANYTHING anymore...

He quickly makes up a plan to save you but of course..nothing goes like he wanted it to go. Nothing. 

He enters the place discreetly, and a terrible silence surrounds him. 

Those men, they don’t utter a word, they just point their guns at you. 

He has to do something about it and...Maybe distracting them? But it doesn’t go as planned. Not at all. 

He does distract them. And knocks them all out. But as he turns to you to see if your alright, and as he can see not even an ounce of thankfulness in your eyes...a voice resonates in the club. 

-I knew you would come. 

Conner turns around and...Lex Luthor. His “father” (he was created with a mix of Clark’s and Lex’s DNA). Conner asks, as he unties you :

-What do you want ?! 

-You. And your girl there, gave me the perfect way to reach for you. Especially since your little...break up. I need you Conner, by my side, for a little...project of mine. And now that you weren’t always with her, or that her damn dad...yes I know who he is...isn’t....It was fairly easy to kidnap her. She didn’t even fight. 

Conner turned around to look at you and...no reaction. You have absolutely no reaction, as you’re standing besides him. And it just doesn't look like you at all, normally, you’d be fuming, and those armed guys ? You’d have kicked at least three of their asses before being submitted down ! What was happening to you ? He’s about to touch you, for the first time in agonizing months, he’s about to finally touch you, feel your skin again, as he aims for your bared shoulder (sexy dress by the way) but...he suddenly feels weak. Oh so weak. 

Kryptonite. It’s kryptonite. And as he falls on the floor, he looks at you and...you’re looking back at him with absolutely no feelings in your eyes. Nothing. As if you were empty...He barely hears Lex’s voice as he says :

-I lied, I don’t actually need you. Just...pieces of you. I understood long ago that I couldn’t control you, but creating a new being with parts of you ? Yes, that I can do. 

Conner doesn’t feel fear as he sees, from the corner of his eyes, Lex Luthor coming closer and closer no...all his focus is on you. And it hurts. More than the kryptonite. 

It hurts to see you like that, to see you looking at him with such little feelings...did you say that you still felt friendship ? Yet, there is nothing in your wonderful (E/C) eyes right now...Or...is there really nothing ? 

As the light of the kryptonite illuminates your face and Lex crouches next to Conner, your brow furrows. And when he says : 

-I have no idea what’s wrong with you kid, but thank you for not doing anything right now haha. I know the bat, and I know the cat, I was assuming their daughter would be a pain in the ass but I guess not and...

Yes. This makes you react. A kick. A nice kick to the chin gets him just fine. 

Lex falls backward, and he’s pretty sure you broke his jaw. Damn good, powerful and well placed kicked. Definitely Batman’s daughter. 

But something is wrong with you. It’s like you acted out of automatism rather than because you really wanted to defend Conner. And if there’s one thing that Lex is good at is...taking opportunities. 

You have fast reflexes, but you feel like your mind is clouded and...Lex’s kryptonite sharp knife is coming fast toward you and...it never hits you. 

Conner. 

He stood up, he somehow fought the kryptonite and stood up and...the knife is deep in his stomach. And...

Your fists move on their on. 

One punch. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight...you loose count. 

You’re beating Lex Luthor to a pulp, that’s all you know. At some point, someone is taking you away and...

-Dad...

-Yes, yes I’m here my little one...

-Conner...

What happened ? Why do you feel like you missed a lot ? Those past few months are such a blur...And Conner. 

-CONNER !! 

-It’s ok, it’s ok he’s...

-CONNER !! CONNER !! 

It seems like it’s the only thing you can scream, and as you see him on the floor, bleeding out, Tim next to him already trying to fix him...Your heart breaks. 

Were you going to loose him ? What happened ? Why was he stabbed ? And by what ? By who ? 

Why did you feel like you already lost him ? No. No you couldn’t loose him. No ! 

He wanted to marry you, and you wanted that too, not now, but you wanted and...No, you couldn’t loose him ! 

-CONNER !! 

You’re almost sure you heard him whisper, his voice way too weak, “(Y/N)” but nothing is certain anymore and...black. Everything is black.

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

You wake up in a hospital room, and you’re pretty sure it’s on the League’s Watchtower. It just doesn’t seem like any hospital room and...Your dad is there, asleep next to you. Your brothers too. And Conner. But...why is he so far in the corner of the room ? 

-Conner...

You whisper. Your voice is hoarse and your throat hurts but...he ears you. Of course he does. 

He opens his eyes and looks at you and...he looks so awful. 

And he doesn’t approach you...At least, not until you raise a hand weakly, and he finally dares to come. Slowly. It’s so unlike him...

-What...happened...?

You barely remembers and...He explains. 

And you understand. Oh you understand. 

Months of being heartbroken and lost made him...afraid of you almost. Afraid that you’d hurt him further. He explains the all breakup, and how you slowly drifted further away each days from your family...but you don’t remember any of this ? You love Conner. You know it. No one ever made you feel like this. And your family ? It’s everything to you. 

You don’t remember any of that. The last thing you remember is...

-The Wasp sting. It’s what...changed you. Your ex, that...jerk. His father has a shady pharmaceutical enterprise where they did tests and...they have a “feeling inhibitor”. Suppose to be used on humans to make fearless soldiers. But the idiot thought it only worked on love. thought you’d stop loving me and he would have a chance again. Your dad gave you an antidote and I...i...

His voice breaks and your hand running in his hair is the best thing he ever felt. This nightmare was over. You were back...

As Conner explains, things start to make a bit more sense. Antoine released the wasp right next to you and you killed it as it stung you were the only one touched. And oh...that’s why it seemed like you just got out of a bad dream...

But you don’t care about yourself. You only care about him. And the more he talks about those past few months, the more he leans in your touch, and the more you feel awful. 

-I’m so sorry Conner...I’m so sorry...

-It wasn’t you...

-I’m still sorry...I love you...I love you I didn’t lie, I love you. I love you so much...

Conner’s heart flutters and..yes. You love him. So much that you outmatched an incredibly powerful drug that killed all your feelings as Lex stabbed him. You loved him so much that your mind ignored the CHEMICAL drugs and saved him. Because his life was in danger, you overcome the impossible...

You loved him. You cared. And that’s really all he wanted in life. 

You were back... 

You went to grab him but accidentally touch the area where he got stabbed, that wasn’t healed properly yet and...he winces. You pull your hand away but he grabs it. He’s not about to let you go again. And as he wraps your arms around his shoulders, sits on the bed and bend down to kiss you...He feels alive once again. You’re here. And you love him. You truly love him. His feelings are returned. Well...not exactly : 

It is impossible that you love him as much as he loves you. 

But still. You do love him. And as he deepens the kiss he cannot help but think about...

-LET GO OFF MY SISTER FOR GOD’S SAKE !! 

Damian somehow managed to jump on your boyfriend’s back (yes, your boyfriend, he’s yours, you’re his) and woke everyone up and...you gotta admit, Conner trying to untie your brother from his back, Damian trying to bite him, and your dad and other brothers waking up with a start and automatically going on a fighting stance ? Perfect. Perfectly hilarious. 

___________________

It’s so long I’m so sorry. It’s also very “meh”, worst than “meh” really...I feel like it’s rushed as usual, and does it make sense ? Thanks a lot if you read the entire fucking thing ! and...yeah. Meh.

[annoyedfanfiction]

Batman x oc (7)

I didn't know when I'd fallen asleep, but it only felt like minutes before I shot up again, cold sweat trilling down my back. Bane forgave me, every time, but Bruce didn't. He couldn't. Even if he didn't hate me when I'd revealed myself, he must hate me now that I'd broken his golden rule. "I didn't mean to," I sobbed, clutching my legs to my chest. "I didn't have time to think, and then he wouldn't let me help him!" I was talking to an empty room, even as I stood, one of Martha's old night gowns slinking around my aching body, and crept to the doorway. The hallways were empty, and the house quiet, as I tiptoed down the stairs towards the kitchen in search of water to quench my parched mouth and quell the racing of my heart. "What are you doing?" Damian's voice from the corner of the room startled me, and I dropped the glass in my hand. "Oh my word, Damian, you scared me," I whispered, immediately, biting my lip to imprison the sob that tried to escape. "Here, I'll–" He shuffled closer, and I squinted to see through the darkness. "No, it's alright Master Wayne," I smiled, warmly, as he flicked on the light. "You can go back to bed. I'll just clean this up and then I'll go as well, alright. We don't want anyone else stepping in this glass." He peered at me, his eyes narrowed, and opened his mouth to say something, before he shut it again. "...alright. The dustpan and brush are just behind you. Be careful not to get cut," he said, yawning behind his hand, "Goodnight...Mama B." He slunk off into the darkness, his footsteps silent. I sank down, pulling out the dustpan and brush, and beginning to sweep up the glittering shards of glass, ignoring the tears that blurred around my eyes.

"Alfred! Alfred!" Damian's voice followed the knocking on his door, and Alfred leapt to his feet, pulling open the door. While the others had often sought out his help after bad dreams, it had never been a tendency of Damian's. "Are you alright, Master Wayne?" he asked, gently. "Is something wrong?" "Mm...Mama B is in the kitchen," he said, blankly, but, almost worriedly. "She's been crying. She dropped her glass when I spoke to her." "Thank you for letting me know, Damian," Alfred answered, sincerely, pulling on a dressing gown. "I'll go and check on her. You head back up to bed."

Just as I finished sweeping up the glass, the familiar click of Alfred's steps moved towards the kitchen. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking down at me crouched on the floor. "Oh, yes, Damian just startled me and I dropped a glass," I apologised, quickly standing and tipping the remnants of the innocent glass into the bin. "Damian does have a tendency to lurk," Alfred acknowledged. "I must admit, I could go for a midnight snack. Would you like a hot chocolate?" "Only if you're making it," I answered, remembering the heavenly taste. "You do make the best." "One Pennyworth special coming up," he laughed, pulling out the milk.

It was almost dawn, the sky beginning to gather the hopeful grey which welcomed the sun into the world, when I woke the next time, already heaving sobs from my chest, my throat scratching harsh against the acid that bit up through it. I crawled from the bed, nausea stirring in the pits of my stomach as I pulled myself urgently into the ensuite, retching. I fell back, having emptied my guts, and fumbled for the flush. I rinsed my mouth, then stared at myself in the mirror. Shadowed eyes stared back, and I could almost have laughed at myself. Losing sleep over what Bruce bloody Wayne thinks of me. A knock sounded at the door, and I murmured back a reply. "...Mama B? Are you...alright?" Damian's gruff little voice echoed from the other side, and I pulled the door open. "I'm fine, thank you, Damian," I smiled, warmly, looking down on the frowning boy. "Why do you keep saying that when I can see you're crying?" he asked, frowning deeper. "Is this about Bane? You only killed him in self defence. I've killed more people than that." "It's not that, Damian," I offered, smiling weakly, "It's silly, really." "It's not silly if you're making yourself sick about it," the boy answered, slipping past me into the room. "We can't help why you're sad if you won't tell us." "I'm just... scared," I admitted, sitting down on the bed, and letting him join me. "Is someone threatening you?" he asked, immediately. "You know we'll fight them off, right?" "No one's threatening me, Damian," I soothed him, immediately, "No one's scaring me except myself. I'm scared that I'm not going to be able to see you, and the other kids – well, you're not really kids anymore, and Alfred, and...your father again really." "Why would you be scared of that? You're living here!" he pointed out, confusedly. I sighed, taking his hand, and making him look up at me in surprise. "I'm scared because once I'm better, Bruce isn't going to want me here anymore," I told him, calmly. "I was willing to lie to him about my identity, and I broke his golden rule." "Father knows that it wasn't your fault about Bane," Damian pointed out, scrunching up his nose, "And he was lying to you about being Batman." "Yes, but..." I trailed off, unable to come back with a response to the flatline logic. "You don't believe me," he commented, extricating his hand. "It's not that I don't believe you're not telling me what you think is the truth," I said, slowly, "I just... I guess I'm being irrational. I have no reasoning for not believing what you said, I just... can't?" Damian stared up at me for a moment, brow furrowed and eyes squinted. "I'll show you," he said, instantly standing and scampering from the room. He reappeared moments later. "Don't move." I nodded, holding my hands up in surrender, and watching him disappear again, worriedly.

"Father!" Damian's voice roused Bruce from his sleep, the boy appearing crouched over him. "I demand you get up." "What? Dami, why?" he asked, wiping sleep from his eyes, "Is something wrong?" "Yes," he said, matter-of-factly. "Mama B thinks you hate her and are going to send her away and stop her from seeing us." Bruce stared at him, blearily, the words floating uselessly around his head. "She what?" Damian sighed, climbing back off the bed, and throwing his father's dressing gown at him. "She's scared," he said, gesturing exasperatedly. "That you hate her. Is that getting through to your pre-coffee brain? Yes? Good, now go STOP HER FROM BEING SCARED."

I could hear muffled shouting from down the hallway, but I couldn't really make out what was being said. It was definitely Damian's voice though. Worryingly. I eyed the open door suspiciously, before the yelling stopped and two doors closed in quick succession. A figure shrouded the doorway, and I recognised him immediately. "Fuck." I groaned backwards, burying my face in the duvet. "I'm sorry if Damian woke you up on my account. I didn't know–" "I'm glad he did," Bruce interrupted, and I heard the door click shut behind him. "I'm sorry for scaring you over the last few days. I'm just–" "Incapable of expressing basic emotion? That's what Dick and Jason both said," I suggested, my voice still muffled by the duvet. Bruce chuckled. "I'd like to say they were exaggerating," he offered, sheepishly. "But I can't." I felt his weight shift the bed as he sat down, then his hand landed gently on my shoulder. "Billie, I could never hate you. And I'm sorry if I made you think I could." "You don't have to lie, it's alright if you want me to go," I answered, burying myself deeper in the duvet. "I don't want you to go," he exclaimed, immediately. "I want the exact opposite of that, Billie. I'm sorry I scared you but you need to listen to me right now. I love you. And I making you think I could feel any other way about you was the stupidest thing I could've done." I couldn't move as the weight on the bed shifted again, and he stood up. "I'm sorry." The door opened and closed before I could register anything, then I leapt up, ripping the old wooden door open and sprinting after him, until I ran directly into his broad back, pillowed by the dressing gown he wore. "Was that true?" I almost didn't dare ask it as he stiffened against my sudden attack. "Of course it was," he answered, softly, shuffling around in my tight embrace. "I may be incapable of expressing basic emotion but I don't lie when I try to." A bang from the nearby room followed, then immediate, muffled shouting. I opened the door, and peered in to find Jason rubbing the back of his head and wincing, as the others all crouched on his bottom bunk bed. "Did you hit your head trying to spy on us, Jay-bird?" I asked, helping the tall boy to his feet. He stuck his tongue out at me, then frowned as he saw the dark circles under my eyes. "Have you been stressing about this all night?" he demanded, instantly, staring up at Bruce. "B, look what you did! Take her to bed." He paused, as the others snickered behind him. "Wait no! NO!" He spun around to face his siblings. "Shut up! I meant take her to go and sleep and you know it!" "Go back to bed, Jay-bird, you're functioning almost worse than I am this morning," I teased, stepping back into the hallway. "The rest of you should get some more sleep as well."

Six sets of footsteps and one of wheels tiptoed around the room moments after we'd gone to bed. "I told you they'd be asleep!" Damian hissed. "Hurry up and take the photo, Drake!" "I've taken them, shush Dami," Tim whispered back, irritably. "Alright, you kids are too old for this," I mumbled, sleepily, as Bruce sat up behind me. "Come on, if you're going to behave like kids you're going to be treated like kids." I hoisted up the covers. "In. All of you – yes you Babs." "We're not gonna fit," Damian warned, as Dick gleefully threw himself between Bruce and I, letting Jason pass Babs over from her wheelchair to sit on his lap. "A family that squishes together into one bed on a Sunday morning together stays together," Steph answered, climbing onto the bed as Cass curled up on the pillows like a cat. "Why did you bring this upon us?" Bruce chuckled, long-sufferingly, into my ear, as Damian and Jason squabbled at the foot of the bed. "You're the one who decided to raise seven children," I retorted.

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [5/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #secrets

First Chapter

Author’s Note: Someone mentioned in the comments about the characters ages. As I mentioned at the beginning of the fic, this story mostly follows the New Earth canon. I disregarded anything in the New 52 that directly contradicts that. So the ages of the characters are about as follows: Bruce: 44 Dick: 25 Cass: 20/21ish Jason: 20 Tim: 17 Damian: 13 Ages have been approximated based on clues from the comics. I may eventually tag this as Underage, but it depends on whether I decide to write a certain scene or not.

________________________________________________________________

Tim’s first instinct is to go after Jason, which is why his irritation is entirely justified when a caped shadow detaches from above and lands in front of him in a crouch, blocking his path.

“Father says to check to the condition of Hood’s victims, then wait for medical units,” Robin informs him.

Tim frowns. “Good for him. You don’t need two people to do that.”

He begins to head off again, only for Damian to bar his way again. “Obviously. But he was adamant about it.”

“And since when do you listen to everything he says?”

Damian’s mouth thins, nose wrinkling as it does when Tim does something irritating to him, like exist. It takes him a moment to catch up.

“Wait—he meant me?”

“He meant both of us, for whatever reason is beyond my comprehension.” His permanent scowl slides more to the side of a pout, suggesting he isn’t pleased with the directive. “He was determined to reach Todd on his own when he requested help.”

The kid sounds like he is confused and disapproving all at the same time, which Tim can kind of agree on.

Reaching out to Bruce for help is not something he saw coming. Though, maybe he should have, since Jason always did have a unique ability to act outside the parameters of his own established patterns. It’s why it was so hard to pin him down when he first returned to Gotham.

It’s practical, too, I guess.

Jason’s the sort of no-frill logic kind of guy. He knows out of everyone in the family, the person best suited to take him down if he needs taking down is Bruce—and much as he cares about him, Bruce will do it, too.

He really must be rattled to go with that option.

Tim’s heart thuds a little in sympathy at that, understanding exactly what Jason’s afraid of.

Before he died, he acted rash and could be violent, and was already justifying why certain kinds of people should be forfeit their lives. That conviction magnified when he came back to life. Killing another person, that might not have been something outside the realm of possibility—in a purely utilitarian way. But this—the idea that he might lose control of himself to an extent where he has anything in common with the creeps he’s killed?

Tim wants nothing more than to go after Jason himself, to assure him that he’s nothing like those criminals. But he also recognizes why it’s not a good idea right now.

Besides, B has him. Just have to hope their…usual issues don’t get in the way.

“I’m going to find the kid that was here,” Tim tells Damian. “Got to make sure he’s okay, maybe explain what happened.”

“Whatever,” Damian replies, toeing at the faintly stirring bodies.

Nice working with you, too…

Tim finds the teenager three blocks away, ducked into a corner to avoid the wind, sucking down a cigarette from shaking hands. When Tim rappels down in front of him, he gives a curse and jumps backward, nearly upsetting a trashcan.

“What the hell, man?” he demands.

“Sorry,” Tim replies. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t go anywhere.”

“Why, so you can have a go at me to?”

“I need to know what happened back there.”

“Twenty bucks.”

If this were a gangster or some rogue’s henchman, Tim would probably just beat the answers out of him. But he recognizes that this is a scared kid, who needs to feel safe right now, and who needs to feel like he’s in control. Given the background Tim suspects, it’s not something he gets very often, and will determine how helpful he could be in the future.

So, he counters, “Thirty, and you also give me your name.”

The kid snorts, but nods; as soon as he pockets the cash, he says, “Matt. Smith.”

“Nice to meet you, Doctor,” Tim deadpans, and the kid smirks, but he lets it go. It gives him something to call him, helps ground himself in the fact this case is now involving actual people.

“Okay, Matt. Tell me what went down.”

“Usual thing. Some guy wanted to, uh, show me somethin’ in the alley. Turned out he had a bunch of buddies waitin’. Pretty sure I’d’ve gotten worked over if it weren’t for the guy in the helmet showing up.” Matt hesitates here, his eyes flickering with vulnerability in a way that tells Tim he hasn’t been on the street very long. “After he wiped the floor with ‘em, he went weird. Got real quiet, and he started lookin’ at me like…” He shrugs. “Like, I couldn’t see his face, but it felt like the way some of the junkies look when they think you’re easy pickings. And…”

The kid actually shivers here.

“Man, I thought he was supposed to be cool?” he snaps. “That’s what the girls all say. But if he’s a creep too, why d’you Bats let him go around like he does?”

“He was exposed to a mind-altering substance some time ago, and it’s messing with him,” Tim replies. “He’s not entirely himself right now, but I’m sure he’ll be fine after a bit of detox.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Matt continues to look distrustful. “We done here?”

“Yeah, we’re done.” Tim digs into his belt and passes him a card for the Neon Knights foundation. “Take this, too. It’s not just for younger kids, you know. There’s a program set up for teens and young adults that have aged out of the system.”

“So?”

“I’m not saying you have to go there or even asking you to trust them. But for tonight, at least, a bed and a hot meal are probably a safer bet than working a corner.”

Matt’s shoulder slump a little in defeat, and he looks away. “Whatever.”

“Second person that’s said that to me tonight. I might develop a complex being brushed off so easy.”

The teen’s mouth twitches.

Good sign. If you can still smile so easily, it’s not to late for you.

There’s buzz in his ear and Tim’s comm crackles to life. “B is bringing Red Hood back to the Cave.”

“Without a fight?” Tim asks, pressing the speaker to his ear.

“Hood asked him to sedate him.”

Shit.

If that’s not an indicator of how dire he thinks the situation is! Something like this only happens in life or death situations involving the whole Family, or the Joker. Or both.

“I’m on my way.” He turns back to Matt. “You going to be alright?”

“I’m always alright.”

That startles a chuckle out of Tim; he makes a mental note to track the kid down at as soon as he’s got a better idea of what’s going on

Hurrying back to Damian, Tim finds him watching with folded arms as an ambulance loads the last of the injured and unconscious men through their doors.

“Father, the clean up is finished. I am returning.”

Batman’s voice echoes in both their comms. “No. Continue with your patrol. Red Robin, he’ll stay with you for now.”

“Excuse me?!”

“What?!”

“Rendezvous at the Nest afterward and stay there until you receive further instruction.”

He signs off.

Damian and Tim exchange looks that are easily interpreted even behind their dominos.

“He knows that’s not happening, right?” Tim says. “You’d probably set my place on fire.”

“And I’m sure it would be an improvement. But no, it’s not happening.”

“Good. Glad we established that. How are you getting back to the mano? B brought Hood back in the car, so…”

“Obviously, with your bike.”

“Oh, obviously.”

“You would take issue if I stole a car. And you intend to return to the Cave anyhow.” Tim glares but doesn’t correct him. “I’m driving.”

“Fine.”

“Tt, you people and your antiquated—wait.” Damian sounds like his brain has to reboot. “Really?”

“You have an obsession with sharp objects, you’ve tried to kill me more times than Hood has, and you hate me. You really think I’m letting you sit behind me?”

Damian snorts. “That’s the first intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“That is, of course, assuming you can reach the gears.”

He’s kind of surprised he doesn’t get punched for that one.

It’s an awkward right back, made even more so when Tim insists they duck into a treelined cove on the way to the manor and hide the bike to change into their civvies.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“B’s probably keeping Jason in a holding cell,” Tim explains, “which is on the same level as the garage. We’ll be seen.”

“So?”

“So, you want to get sent off to bed like a naughty kid before you even step foot in the door, or do you want to go down the stairs and find out what’s going on before B can stop you?”

Damian thinks it over, and nods. “This is tedious, but very well. We’ll do it your way.”

Tim exhales a bit at that. Though none of that was entirely a lie, he’s more concerned that if Jason’s woken up, he might see Tim coming in through the parking area and get upset.

“Look at us getting along,” he murmurs as he struggles out of his boots.

“This truce is temporary at best. If you continue to patronize me, I will have Titus defecate in your shoes.”

They arrive in the manor, slipping in through the family entrance, where they are greeted by Alfred.

How does he do that?

It’s a question Tim is pretty sure will never be properly answered.

“Master Timothy, Master Damian—what a novelty, you two entering the house together.”

“We didn’t enter together, Pennyworth, he followed in my wake. As usual.”

Alfred and Tim watch him head toward the main study.

“He’s in a good mood tonight,” Tim remarks.

“Indeed. He spent the afternoon following his studies playing Cheese Viking with Master Colin.”

“Oh, well, the world will be forever grateful.”

“I am considering a gift basket.”

“Can we get some coffee downstairs, Alfred? I have a feeling tonight’s going to be a long night.”

Actually, I have a feeling it’s going to be a long week…

“Of course, Master Timothy.”

“Thanks.”

When they get down to the Cave, it’s both a relief and not to see that Bruce isn’t waiting. Mostly because it’s Dick sitting in the big chair at the meeting table.

Crap. Crap crap crap, what is he doing here?

“Richard,” Damian says, a frown in his voice. “I was under the impression you were on your way back to New York.”

“O caught me on the way, said there was a Family emergency and I might need to hang around for a bit. Here I was hoping she meant something else by that, but…”

Tim’s brain stumbles to come up with a reason why Dick shouldn’t be here. Either this will become the stuff of teasing material for years to come, or Dick will be disgusted at the possibility of Jason entertaining any kind of feelings for Tim.

He has no idea which option is worse.

“B’s handling it,” Tim says. “Maybe you should do a quick patrol, though, since we’re all back here right now.”

“It’s covered. O said Batgirl and Signal are covering any gaps in our routes tonight.”

And Cass is in Hong Kong, which is at least a bit of good news.

He has a hard enough time hiding his feelings for Jason on a good day; if she were here while all of this is going on, there’s not a prayer he gets out of it without someone knowing.

“So, who’s going to fill me in on what’s actually going on?”

“I will.” By now they’re all conditioned to ignore Bruce’s sudden appearances. He’s still in the suit, but the cowl’s off, granting Tim a good view of the glare he’s levelling at his younger sons. “You two aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Sorry. I didn’t care,” Tim replies, his discomfort starting to crack his usual composed mask.

“And I am your partner,” Damian adds. “I will not be kept out of matters because of some misguided attempt to pander to my age. I had thought we came to an understanding on this, Father.”

“This isn’t about that.”

“Then what is it about?” Dick demands; he’s getting impatient.

“Jason’s been infected by a toxin that manifests itself by triggering obsessive behaviour.”

Dick processes that, then furrows his brow. “Are we talking Sheldon Cooper obsession or Alex Forrest obsession?”

“At this point it could be either,” Tim answers, and gives a quick rundown of everything Cassie told him.

“And who exactly is the poor fool Todd’s supposed to be fixated on?” Damian asks, looking repelled at the very thought.

Tim battles down his own embarrassment, reasoning that everyone needs to be on the same page if they’re going to help Jason, and gestures wearily at himself. “That would be me.”

Silence rings.

Damian tilts his head to one side. “Are we positive we shouldn’t just allow this to play itself out?”

“Damian!” Dick snaps, scandalized.

“Well, the outcome benefits everyone. Todd gets to drag the object of his interests somewhere that’s elsewhere, and we get rid of Drake.”

“It’s getting really old, Gremlin,” Tim sighs, rubbing his temples.

“No one’s getting rid of Tim! And Jason’s not…doing that!” Dick snaps. “We’re going to fix this. Don’t worry, Tim, he’s not going to get a chance to do anything to you this time.”

Tim shoots him a sharp look. “You know it’s not his fault, right? It’s like being dosed by Ivy, only stronger.”

“If what Wonder Girl told you is true, though, the infection may capitalize on feelings that are already there,” Bruce says. “And the fact is—”

“Jason’s tried to kill me before? Yeah. I was there. But it’s been years, and things have been getting better.” Everyone looks skeptical at that, and he scowls. “They were.”

“Be that as it may, you shouldn’t be here. Damian either.”

“Todd’s not obsessing over me, thank god for small miracles.”

Bruce ignores the byplay.

“Since you are here,” he says, turning to Tim. “I want Eros transported to the Cave. We can better interrogate him here and find out if he’s holding anything back. I don’t trust that he isn’t manipulating you both.”

“Oh, I know he’s manipulating us,” Tim replies. “I also know you won’t be able to interrogate him the way you want to, not with his powers slowly growing more out of control—and yes, they are doing that, don’t make me explain how I know that.”

“How do you—?”

“Nair, Dick. In your shampoo,” Tim snaps, jabbing a finger in his brother’s direction without looking away from Bruce. “Also, there’s no guarantee he won’t try to escape and give us the sleep because we underestimate him. And since I can’t be around Jason, I can at least keep working on that angle of the case back in the Nest.”

Because no way in hell are you benching me from this completely.

He can work from his place, and if there’s anything important, he can send it over. And he cam patch into the comms to follow along with the investigation from afar.

Whatever Bruce wants to say to that is interrupted by a tweeting noise from the computer. A beat later, a holographic projection of Wonder Woman appears in the front of them.

“You got my message.”

“Yes,” she replies. “And I can only corroborate what you already know. Nothing mortal can be done about the boy’s condition. Only an arrow from Eros’ bow will be able to temper the infection.”

Bruce’s expression doesn’t change, but Tim can sense his disappointment.

“I must also warn you that the further his condition progresses, the less conventional sedatives will work. I am surprised they even worked this time.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Modern pharmaceuticals might be able to render him unconscious, but it will not stop his brain function. The fixation will continue, thoughts unrestrained, and could overstimulate his brain to a fatal degree.”

They are all silent, digesting this.

“You said ‘nothing mortal’,” Bruce says after a moment. “There’s another option, isn’t there.”

Diana sighs. “Yes. I do have access to a method of pausing a gradual descent into madness, or rather I can locate it.”

“Great!” Dick says. “Let’s do that.”

“What’s the catch?” Tim wants to know.

“The only means I know of stopping the progression is Stygian Sleep.”

“No,” Bruce says immediately.

“What’s Stygian Sleep?” Dick asks.

“It’s in the myth,” Tim says, his research brain kicking in. “In the story of Cupid and Psyche—or, Eros and Psyche, I guess—Eros wife was put into a cursed sleep. But I thought that was just a poetic way of saying ‘really deep sleep’.”

“No. It’s a philtre created using the waters of the River Styx. Extremely powerful,” Diana explains.

“What happened to Psyche?” Dick asks.

“From what I read, she got woken up by her husband.”

“Well, that’s good, right?”

“In the story,” Diana agrees. “In actuality, he was unable to wake her. Her body wasted away and her soul was trapped in one of the darkest parts of Hades, bound to the Styx itself.”

And…that’s less good. Explains why Eros didn’t want to talk about it.

“None of this matters, because it isn’t an option,” Bruce declares.

“Don’t be closed-minded about this, Bruce, it isn’t a magic potion in the sense you think it is. The Sleep functions as a means of preserving his brain function without allowing the same deterioration that would be caused by mortal medicine. It will freeze him in the moment, keeping him safe and preserved while you seek out the means of his recovery. But if you don’t act quickly, his condition will worsen, and even if you employ the Sleep, it will be far from peaceful for him.”

“And if we don’t find that cure, he’ll be effectively braindead. No. We will find another way.”

Diana makes an impatient noise. “While I know you have every right to be confident in your abilities, you’re talking about a life. Your son’s life. Hubris is not a condition that was lost to the ancients.” The translucent body of her hologram turns as if to leave the room. “I will procure some of the philtre in case you change your minds,” Diana says, not sounding pleased. “I would hope you choose to think of the boy and not your own feelings on the matter.”

And she leaves them alone to stare at each other, the choice hanging over them more tangibly than the bats.

⁂

Next Chapter