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xysidhequeen · 5 months

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(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 2)

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Tw: canon-typical violence (Batman), emetophobia at one point

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

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Danny sat in the back of one of the transport trucks currently on the way to Arkham, his hands in his lap.

So far, everything was going to plan.

About a quarter of the team had gotten themselves admitted into Arkham in the days leading up to the raid, carefully sneaking in supplies and weapons for both themselves and the rogues they were going to free.

Half of the team was on trucks, ready to storm the building with their fancy new tech. A couple others were keeping an eye out for the Bats, and the last one was holed up in a recently condemned building, ecto-modified sniper rifle in hand, ready to fire.

Danny’s hands were cold.

He hadn’t always run cold, from what he remembered. Even after he died—hell, even after he started developing his ice powers—he had always been warm.

Now, though, his body was freezing.

Maybe it was because of the ecto siphoning he and Derringer had done the day before.

He couldn’t make the ecto guns work without fueling them, after all, and the only ectoplasm he had access to was the stuff inside his body. So, he had Derringer hook him up to a GiW machine and filter the ecto out of his blood.

The process was excruciating.

Not only did he get light-headed from the loss of fluids, the machine also chilled his blood considerably during the filtering process, and when it was pumped back into his body, it was freezing. Derringer had to cover him with heating pads and thick blankets to get him to stop shaking.

Still, that had been a little over eighteen hours ago, so that probably wasn’t it.

Maybe it was just another side affect of his time with the GiW.

Overuse of his ghostly wail, he had realized earlier, was the reason that he had lost his voice permanently. Maybe he had accidentally used his ice too many times the same way, and now his body was irrevocably changed. Maybe warmth was just another tiny privilege he had taken for granted, that had now been lost forever.

Danny stared down at his hands.

Maybe his body had just given up entirely on keeping him warm, on pretending to be human.

“Kid, you alright? We’re almost there.”

Derringer’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Danny signed, “just tired. And cold.”

“We’ve got to get you a jacket, kid,” Derringer said, “it’s not even winter and I already have to worry about you freezing to death.”

“I died a long time ago, it’s fine.”

“No,” one of the other men in the truck drawled, “it means you’ve got to be extra careful. You’ve got a second chance at living, so you better not screw it up.”

“What did he say?”

“Danny thinks that because he’s died before, he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death.”

The truck went quiet for a few moments. Most of the guys in there didn’t know he had died before. He didn’t exactly like to advertise the fact.

“I have a cousin who had a heart attack, and it only made his heart worse,” one of the guys near the front of the truck offered.

“See, kid?” Derringer said, “I’m right. As soon as this is over, you’re getting a jacket.”

Danny crossed his arms, slumping over in his seat with a huff.

A few moments later, a loud clang echoed through the truck. Danny jolted, almost falling out of his seat.

The door opened, the driver looking at them with boredom written all over his face.

“Alright, up and at em. It’s go time,” he mumbled, smacking the door loudly for emphasis. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”

They all stood, hopping out of the truck and making their way to the fence line.

Danny moved his hand to the bandolier on his chest, fingers brushing against the small ecto-bombs he had attached to it.

There were five of them, their bodies made of tempered glass and black steel, and they glowed a sickly green in the night. They were designed mainly for combat; he had a few larger ones meant to blow a hole in a wall in his backpack, which was securely zipped shut.

His hand then drifted to the holster on his left side, and the ecto-gun nestled securely within it.

Most of his parents’ inventions were far too big and bulky to be practical in any real combat setting, so he had downsized them considerably. The weapon he had was modeled after a standard glock pistol, matte black paint covering the GiW white of the gun’s body.

The gun should be able to fire around fifty shots a minute without overheating, which was more than enough for Danny. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fire a single round tonight. However, for whatever reason, the words should and hopefully didn’t inspire much confidence in him.

Danny followed the group as they snuck up to the facility, Derringer by his side.

Originally, neither of them were going to go on the raid, but someone on the patient list had caught Danny’s eye, so he decided he would investigate in person. Derringer was just along for the ride because Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t willing to lose an asset as valuable as Danny.

Danny would make it up to the bodyguard later, he decided.

Entering Arkham was, all things considered, pretty easy. Mr. Cobblepot had connections to a few of the orderlies, and it was all too easy to convince them to “forget” a few steps in setting up the security system for the night.

However, since nothing can ever just be simple, they ran into an unexpected patrol of nightshift guards just a few minutes after all splitting up to find the rogues.

Danny and Derringer were able to take them down pretty quickly, but not before they sounded the alarms. And, according to a few guys on the comms, they weren’t the only ones to run into guards where they shouldn’t be.

“They must have changed their patrols,” Derringer huffed, spinning the pistol in his hands, “c’mon, let’s go see about freeing our good friend Victor Fries.”

Danny nodded, scampering after the man as he sprinted through the halls.

The inmates, who had woken up from the loud alarm’s continuous blaring, shouted at them from their cells. Danny’s pulse was loud in his ears, drowning everything out.

Distantly, he wondered if those guards were going to die. Maybe they were dead already.

He supposed that it didn’t really change much if they were.

Soon, they were at the cell. It was custom-built to hold Mr. Freeze, constantly kept at subzero temperatures to avoid killing him.

Derringer hefted his bag off of his back, pulling out the suit and freeze gun that Mr. Cobblepot had procured. As he did so, Danny took a few of the larger ecto-bombs and placed them on the joints of the door.

They carefully moved away, putting some distance between themselves and the door, and Danny detonated it.

The explosion was loud. It shook the entire building, the shockwave knocking Danny to the floor.

Danny brought his hand up to his safety goggles, yanking a small piece of metal shrapnel out of them and dropping it on the floor. He was dimly aware of more pieces sticking out of his kevlar suit. Derringer was similarly peppered with metal, luckily uninjured as well.

They had come from the body and mechanism of the bomb, he realized. He’d have to fix that later.

Mr. Freeze emerged from the cell a few moments later, a scowl on his face. Derringer quickly shoved the suit and freeze gun into his hands and he retreated back into the cell for a few moments, getting dressed.

“I could have died from that, you know,” he hissed. “Killed by some amateurs with shoddy explosives.”

“The Penguin sent us,” Derringer said, ignoring the man’s clear annoyance, “our getaway car is outside. If you’d come with us…”

Mr. Freeze nodded sternly.

“Hurry up, then.”

Derringer and Danny hurried out, Mr. Freeze right behind them. Then, at a certain hallway, Danny paused.

He had to check.

“Kid,” Derringer barked, “we have to go.”

Danny shook his head.

“You go,” he signed, hands trembling, “I have to check.”

“Oh, what’s the problem now?” Mr. Freeze asked, his frown more pronounced by the minute.

“Danny…” Derringer sighed, “Danny thinks his sister might be in here. He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s the whole reason he was a part of the Arkham raid, actually.”

Mr. Freeze paused for a moment.

“Well, lead the way, then,” he said, clearly regretting his words as soon as he said them. Danny just nodded, scurrying forward, the other two men close behind him.

They came to the right cell quickly. Danny looked in through the glass, and he felt a piece of himself shatter.

That was Jazz, his sister, sitting in a padded wall wearing a straightjacket and a muzzle.

She didn’t bother looking up at them as they arrived, not stirring even when Danny slammed his hands on the door to get her attention.

Shakily, he attached an ecto-bomb to the door, hoping with all his might that she wouldn’t get hurt.

The door blew open, and Danny rushed in.

Jazz’s head swiveled to look up at him, her eyes narrowed.

He slipped the goggles up and his bandanna down, exposing his face as he came to kneel beside her.

Slowly, her expression shifted to shock.

“Jazz,” he creaked, his broken vocal chords cracking painfully as he spoke, “it’s me.”

She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Danny?”

He nodded, pulling her into a hug, careful not to let the shrapnel dig into her skin.

“I thought you were…”

“Very heartwarming,” Mr. Freeze snapped, “but now isn’t the time. We’ve got to go, now.”

Jazz nodded, leaping to her feet. Danny stood as well, slipping his mask and bandanna back on, and grabbing onto one of her arms for support.

They left the cell, Danny doing a double-take as he saw the frozen-over pathway that they had just come from. He looked to Mr. Freeze, tilting his head questioningly.

“There were guards,” he said flatly. “Now hurry up, we need to get out of here.”

Derringer grabbed the two of them, dragging them along as he sprinted through the hallways. They had to take a bit of a detour, coming out of the main entrance instead of the side one they had entered.

Unfortunately, there was an active gunfight going down.

Danny was roughly pulled behind a desk, just barely dodging a few rounds.

His hands shook as he pulled a small ecto-bomb from his bandolier, priming it and throwing it at a small grouping of night guards. They cried out as the pure ectoplasm collided with them, covering their bodies in burns.

The smell, while familiar to Danny, was still horrific.

They took a few shots off at the night guards, trying to take them down. Their group was efficient, but with the rate they were going at, it wasn’t going to be enough. Only adding to that, the gun Mr. Cobblepot had prepared for Mr. Freeze had broken after just a few uses, leaving them unable to create an ice wall.

Then, Danny heard the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off behind them, and his vision went white.

He grabbed onto Jazz and Derringer, making them intangible right as the night guard opened fire.

Waves of nausea hit him all at once and he doubled over, his vision swimming. Danny was only dimly aware of Jazz taking the guard down with a high kick right to the head, and Derringer pulling him into a protective hold.

Ignoring everything, he pulled the last of the large bombs from his bag, throwing it into the air, pulling everyone behind the desk.

The entire room went white.

Danny’s ears rung as he scrambled out from behind the reception desk, dragging Jazz with him.

Luckily, none of the hired hands on his team had gotten injured, but the guards…

Danny looked away, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.

It was fine. He was fine. Everything would be okay.

The next few minutes were a blur. He knew that he had puked only a few seconds after they had left the building, and that Derringer had picked him up afterwards, carrying him to the truck with Mr. Freeze and Jazz in tow.

Danny’s entire body was wracked with tremors, an unbearable phantom pain passing through the still-healing surgical wounds in his head and torso like lightning. He dry-heaved, shivering uncontrollably.

They drove off soon after. Luckily, no one had been left behind. Someone, probably Derringer, helped Danny rinse out his mouth and got him a bottle of water to drink, wrapping him in his jacket.

As soon as the truck doors were opened within one of Mr. Cobblepot’s safehouses, Danny became aware of the sound of wailing.

Hopping out of the truck, most of his mind still far away, he saw a man being rolled out of the room on a stretcher. He was one of the people who had been on the other truck, Danny realized.

Beside him was a teenager, probably only a few years younger than Danny, who was screaming and crying uncontrollably. They wailed at Mr. Cobblepot, who only stood there with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Oh shit,” Derringer breathed. Danny pulled on his sleeve, tilting his head at him questioningly.

“The guy on the stretcher, that’s his sibling.”

Danny just stared, a hollow feeling deep in his chest.

Jazz, her arms now freed from the straightjacket, pulled him away from the scene. Danny let her.

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xysidhequeen · 5 months

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AND NOW: Part Two! One might think I would look at the fic at some point and check what chapter we’re on, but I will not! Mostly for “but that takes effort” reasons but also because by the time I get back here I WILL have forgotten!

Part One of this chapter:

First Chapter:

———————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 2)

Tucker, Conner, and Tim had actually gotten through another round of Spiderheck in between the rabid buzzing of Tim and Tucker’s phones.

Conner had the good sense to mute his and toss it behind the couch… after sharing the “good news” of Timblr with the Young Justice chat. Without which his phone probably wouldn’t have been buzzing at all.

He regretted nothing, despite Tim’s alternate pouting and threats. Tucker was pretty impressed, and pretty sure that it wasn’t just for the guy’s good looks this time.

Finally, after the fourth time Tim’s ringtone changed itself and blasted at full volume (making Tucker completely drop his controller), the Black tech gave up, sighing heartily and dropping his head into his hands.

Not least to hide the sudden wicked grin on his face as an idea struck. Because yeah, sure, he could help Tim try and unhack fucking Oracle on the sly, or… they could remove the distraction another way.

(Tucker wasn’t a thousand percent ungrateful for the distraction; he was pretty sure even without the merry buzzing of his social life burning down around him he’d have had a hard time concentrating on the game.

It just plain wasn’t fair; Conner was too fucking hot, and so earnest, and excited when he was doing well! All the little shouts and exclamations, the broad grins, Tucker was really beginning to doubt his own demisexual nature.

Although, to be fair, it wasn’t like he actually wanted to… interact while Conner was being cuter than Cujo with a rubber bone. Just. It was hard to think about anything else when he could be appreciating all… that instead.

At least while Tim’s ass was being blown off by at least three separate group chats, Tucker’s floundering was less embarrassing.)

Tim gave him a consoling pat on the back while Conner whooped in victory, probably trying to comfort Tucker in the loss. Tucker let him for a moment, running a couple quick calculations in his head.

Because yeah, he’d never got around to asking Danny to ecto infuse any of the Waynes’ tech; not the batcomputer nor the gaming consoles, but. Well. They’d played for hours the last two nights, and it wasn’t like Tucker had never gotten his hands through a console’s innards.

It had to count as knowing the device, right?

And it wasn’t like it was that hard, doing it for just three people. For just one game.

Looking up at the other two, he gave them both a slightly shyer grin.

“So, like… I know we’re having a good time and all,” he began, and Tim groaned theatrically as he was interrupted yet again by his ringtone.

“I’m about to ask Superboy to toss this thing into space,” he grumbled, glowering at his phone.

Conner reached innocently towards it and Tim snatched it back up immediately. Tucker settled back once it was safe too, grinning sheepishly even if it wasn’t his bluff Conner called.

Conner tipped him a wink and Tucker had to clear his throat and give his head a quick shake to clear his blush.

“Right… yeah, uh, anyway. What if I had a better way to get us away from distractions?” He asked as innocently as he could, staring at the screen instead of that far too attractive face.

He could still see the other two sit up from the corner of his eye, both looking interested.

“We’re not allowed to game in the Bat Cave,” Tim said quickly, with a resigned air that said the question had come up before… and enough disappointment that they’d probably done it and been caught.

Which, yeah, thinking of the size of the screen in the cave, Tucker suddenly really wanted to try that too.

Already banned though. And he and Danny were already on thin enough ice with Batman as it was.

Reluctantly dismissing the thought, he returned his attention to the present moment, grin spreading as he turned to face Tim directly.

(Tim was safe. Tim was, objectively, a very handsome young man and Tucker could appreciate that in a distant way, but being pretty was just so much less interesting that almost anything else about Tim.

Tucker could worship him through a distant computer screen, so the pretty blue eyes weren’t much of a distraction. Looking at Tim face to face was really cool, but Tucker would be more tongue tied watching him code.)

“Sure, but you remember I told you about my technopathy? I can interface with machines I know really well,” he added for Conner’s benefit, accidentally looking over in time to preen as his face lit up with interest.

Tim, for some reason, stifled a snicker.

“Yeah, you mentioned. And that it was a little more complicated, but go on,” he prodded, and Conner shot him a look that Tucker was gonna have to ask questions about.

Later. Once he was done showing off a little. And, probably, getting his ass kicked at Spiderheck.

Tucker Foley was a master of video game controls, sure, and that sorta helped, as did “knowing you’ve been thrust into a video game”. He just didn’t delude himself into thinking it’d be enough to counter the actual literal battle training of superheroes.

But hey, maybe having all those extra legs would fuck them both up for long enough that he’d win a few rounds.

“Well I think you might’ve already noticed, but I know this game really well.”

Danny was doing his best to keep a cheerful face on things, especially the weird shit.

It had been a while since he’d had a nasty new halfa surprise of his own crop up (although he didn’t dare hope he’d had his last; that would surely bring something on), but he still remembered how it felt.

How overwhelming, how hollow and intimidating the world could be when you were learning that you really knew almost nothing about yourself. That at any time, your body could do something totally out of your control.

Something you might not be able to handle.

He’d felt the fear in Jason, deep and bright and smothered a second later, but not before Danny felt it.

At least he could be here for the other guy; he wasn’t going to be going into the whole mess alone. Danny would make sure of that. Understandable as his reservations about reliving his death were, they would face it together, and he had to hope that might help.

Possibly with Jazz too, when it was actually time for that first transformation. Danny hadn’t even really started coping with dying when he’d first changed, and he’d been dead less than a minute; it had almost been part of the rebirth process. By the time he’d had to do it for a fight, he already knew what would happen.

For Jason… well, it had been a while, and even Danny could see he’d not done much more than paper over the cracks with bad ecto induced rage and carry on.

He was trying not to let Jason see how much he worried, but had a feeling it didn’t matter. Jason was plenty worried already.

Good news was… well, there wasn’t much good news. It was going to suck, no matter what, and if they didn’t do it in controlled conditions it’d be fucking awful.

But they did have some controlled conditions, and better yet? Probably wouldn’t be a problem for at least a couple more days.

As little as Danny wanted to talk about the whole… mess that was Jason’s death, Jason himself was all about the detailed planning. Back ups of back ups and all that.

It probably came with the Batman training.

(The mad compartmentalising totally did. Danny had spent enough time with Bruce in one single car ride to be sure about that.)

For the moment, he gave Jason as much support he could; contact, a reassuring aura, and a smile whenever he could, and absolutely no oogling of his mostly naked body while they were doing the checkup.

(Jason had mentioned a pit-related growth spurt last time, and this close Danny could see that the scars all over him were interspersed with stretch marks. Now that he actually looked the difference was super obvious; the different colour, the creasing where they indented the skin.

Danny definitely wasn’t thinking of licking them to see if he could feel the texture.

Or running his fingers over bared skin, which was admittedly less intimate than the licking thoughts he totally wasn’t having, but also seemed kinda more a betrayal. Because Jason wouldn’t question Danny touching him, but Danny would have Nefarious Motives.

Of. Textures.

But it was totally fine because he wasn’t having any of those thoughts at all.)

He just wished he knew what had caused that sudden panic attack Jason had earlier; it had come almost from nowhere, a wave of black and crushing dread that froze Danny’s already-iced core. It filled the room, filled his lungs, and would have cost him everything to not respond.

Part of him had wanted to shove Jason fully inside himself, store the much larger man in the hollow of his chest so that nothing could hurt him.

(And Danny could, technically, kinda do that. Jason didn’t have to be that much bigger than him, at least while Danny was in ghost form. Ghost form was all about self perception and, well, raw power.

Looking like his twink ass self was a deliberate choice, and one he’d never regretted until it meant not curling Jason into the infinite curls of his tail and protecting himself from the universe as a whole.)

Danny was super great at boundaries. Yup. One thousand percent completely normal about them.

But he’d been able to wrap his aura around Jason anyway, because that wasn’t a freakishly massive monster form that would freak him out further. They’d helped him calm down, helped him breathe, and Jason seemed…

Way too fine, frankly, even his aura had cleared, and Danny trusted that about as far as Sam could throw him. Bat-level compartmentalizing, for sure.

That was gonna get real weird when the more emotionally regulated ghost powers kicked in, but Danny was gonna cross his fingers and hope that it made Jason’s transition easier, not infinitely more fucked up. Jazz would be intolerable, for one thing.

Most of the rest of the appointment went well anyway; bar the surprise “Congratulations On Your Soul Bond” news (which he would not be thinking about too hard until he couldn’t possibly avoid it), it was pretty much what they’d expected.

Jason was doing good, Danny was gonna need to work around classes tomorrow maybe for another trip, and there was just the teeniest chance Jason’s fully formed core would manifest like, physically.

Shockwaves had been mentioned. Danny now had questions about how much of his original death light show had been the portal itself opening. Ones that could never be answered, but hey.

If/when Clockwork showed up, Danny was gonna prioritise Jason’s soul contract over his own curiosity for purely friend related reasons.

Danny didn’t like soul contracts of any sort at the best of times, unwritten ones that put a friend into his service? Yeah, maybe he was feeling just a little vindicated that Jason could see what he’d been freaking out about now.

Now that it was too late, but Danny was technically the Ghost King and Clockwork’s boss, so even if he couldn’t fix the whole mess until his coronation, it wasn’t gonna be a problem-problem.

If Clockwork tried to use the contract to push Danny into accepting his coronation more quickly, well, Danny had a real good win streak of fighting ancients in his pocket. And he’d double never get coronated if they spent the rest of eternity playing cat and mouse for Danny to beat Clockwork’s ass, so.

Not that Danny believed Clockwork would, really. The Observants? Abso-fucking-lutely, he’d be swinging before they finished a sentence, but Clockwork genuinely seemed to care.

He pruned the timelines with the ruthless efficiency of a gardener, but always to make the best outcome. The one where the least people got fucked over.

He’d absolutely fuck Danny over in the service of getting that best outcome, but Danny was also pretty sure he’d feel bad about it if he did, and that Clockwork would and had chosen to believe in him over his predicted outcomes more than once.

Danny trusted Clockwork.

Of course, now that he wasn’t trying to hide and actually wanted to see his mentor and regent, the bastard was nowhere to be found.

All jokes about the “Ever-Moving Now” aside, they weren’t directly making for Clockwork’s tower; the only way to find it was with Clockwork’s permission, so Danny didn’t usually bother. As a kid they’d thought they could stumble across it and surprise him, but these days?

Danny knew better. And Clockwork wasn’t exactly subtle; his lair had showed up around the very first metaphorical corner when he wanted Danny to come in once too often. And hadn’t been anywhere to be found when Danny searched, only to show up beside his fucking portal home.

Where it definitely hadn’t been on his way in.

It went where Clockwork wanted it, when he wanted it there. Danny totally wasn’t jealous.

It had been a while since he’d bothered hiding from Danny though; these past couple months, just being in the Zone had netted him an unwanted visit from his regent. Danny was beginning to suspect Clockwork wasn’t actually all that keen on ruling the realms, and was just planning to fob the job off on him.

Which, y’know, fair. Danny wasn’t exactly thrilled with it either. But it was his job as Danny’s mentor to protect him from this shit, right?

Now that Danny actually wanted to see him though, of course he wasn’t around. Which probably wasn’t actually a bad sign, or that he’d done something he didn’t want them to know about.

Clockwork was just a cryptic asshole, and apparently Jason had used up all of his “getting clear answers” cards in their first meeting. If only Danny had ever gotten a single damn one.

There was one other detour Danny wanted to make while in the Realms, but… today didn’t feel like quite the right time. Jason had already had a fucking day of it, and Danny didn’t wanna dump any more on him. Even if Ghost Writer’s library would be a nice trip for Jason, it was something they should talk about first.

And… probably ask Ghost Writer about first too.

If Danny ever remembered to do that.

So they’d thanked Frostbite, gotten Jason a bag of ecto ice chips (Danny wasn’t allowed any, it was totally unfair because he needed an energy boost too! But noooo, his core was “stabilised” and “complete” and he needed to “sleep” and “eat” for energy like a pleb. Unfair!), and agreed to come back as soon as Jason’s core stabilised.

Danny figured he could always come back on his own for a visit to Nocturn. That was gonna be a whole ass emotional mess; Dan was technically in the database Tucker had handed over, but Jason hadn’t mentioned it yet. Danny didn’t know if that meant he didn’t know, or was just being actually tactful.

He wasn’t even sure what he actually wanted to say yet, how to ask for what he wanted, and he should probably do this right. Nocturn hadn’t challenged him again since he’d become king, and had actually been super helpful so far, but… well, the spirit of dreams was proud, powerful, and Danny was pretty sure he helped specifically to have something on Danny. He’d already decided that his main job tonight was to help Jason relax, feel better, and work out if he needed to sicc the Sam-Tucker combo on Bruce Wayne’s social media.

…

Who was he kidding. Of course they’d be setting Sam and Tucker on the guy, as soon as Jason gave the green light.

Jason had never exactly gotten all the way through the explicit details of how Bruce had fucked up this afternoon, beyond just siccing Constantine on Jason, but honestly?

He didn’t have to. Jason had been almost tangibly frustrated from the minute he rolled up to Danny’s dorms, though he was gonna shoot Tucker a thank you for his little “revenge”, since it had cheered the guy up right away.

Danny was totally not considering a little spectral revenge for himself too. Mostly because Batman would probably know all about ghosts by now, and probably had Constantine doing his spectral condom act all over the cave.

But it wasn’t like Bruce liked Danny anyway, so really, what did he have to lose? Not like Jason hadn’t already shown whose side he came out on on this one.

Danny didn’t exactly know what having over protective parents was like, but Jason could not be more clear that he didn’t appreciate Bruce’s interference. There was clearly a lot going on with those two, and while they’d already talked about Jason’s death and technically he had permission…

Well, Danny didn’t wanna push. Ask literally any ghost, dying could leave you with a whole stack of issues. Jason wasn’t even close to the most homicidal Danny had met.

That poisonous rage, though… Danny pushed it from his mind. It didn’t matter, wouldn’t matter, Frostbite said Jason was doing well and Pitty would be out of him soon.

…

Maybe, just maybe Danny was also starting to worry what that might mean, since it sent Jason into a full panic attack and he’d seen what the rage was like when fully under control.

Maybe they’d bump up the schedule on taking care of those Lazarus pits. Get that Obsession dealt with, see if it calmed things down.

Yet another thing Danny would have to talk to Clockwork about, and was his irritatingly omnipresent mentor anywhere to be found? Of course not.

Which probably meant this wasn’t a timeline threatening problem. Yet.

What a comfort.

Which left them flying home through the Zone, and Danny totally wasn’t overthinking literally everything. He was being considerate, quiet, giving Jason time to process everything they’d seen that day.

Maybe himself too. Just a little. But it wasn’t like Jason was hurrying to start a conversation, and they both had a lot on their minds. It was a good, comfortable silence.

They had nearly reached his preferred portal spot too, so today’s quick trip to the Ghost Zone was nearly over, unless Danny actually wanted to go Clockwork-hunting… which, while probably less emotionally fraught, wasn’t likely to go great.

(Realms geography could be more than just hinky; they were infinite after all, so he tended to open portals back out in the same place he’d previously opened a portal from the living world in. It seemed to help, and he didn’t usually wind up in the wrong dimension that way.

Especially if there was a nearby, powerful anchor.

Going searching up and down the whole ass Zone for the Ever Moving Now? Yeah, that’d fuck his portal plans right up.)

Danny could feel a steady building trepidation rising in Jason like the tide, but he had no idea what the hell to do about it. Back there in the world were Bruce and Constantine, and all the problems that kept Jason balanced precariously on a knife edge.

Here in the Realms, all the problems were new and interesting and could almost all be solved by punching, which really suited both of them. Danny would have been tempted to suggest that sidebar to see Ghost Writer, but it was late, he had school in the morning, and his super handy time manipulating mentor was being a dick and wasn’t here.

A couple years ago, he’d have said fuck it and gone on the sidebar anyway, and probably not slept all night to help his friend. And had Jazz harping in his ear about “developing bodies”, “needing his sleep”, and “this is why you haven’t had a growth spurt since you were fourteen”.

Which totally wasn’t a valid argument or at all what had made him start taking care of himself. He just… well, he just actually really fucking liked his classes these days.

Against all the odds, Danny Fenton had gotten into a prestigious college, into an engineering program that actually let him stretch his talents. And take apart old or broken lab equipment from the other buildings for fun and profit.

And if he hadn’t slept the night before, they didn’t let him use the welding torch. Danny was pretty sure Clockwork might be behind that, since they somehow always knew.

Maybe that was how Nocturn was already betraying him… conspiring with Clockwork to make Danny sleep more and absorb his power?

Danny considered that seriously for about half a second before discarding it. Sure, Nocturn was the King of Sleep and an ancient, but he was also a canny motherfucker and not likely to mess up badly enough to accidentally become King of the Infinite Realms too.

For all that he wanted power, fucking no one wanted to deal with the Observants. Danny had practically begged.

It wasn’t like they had to go back to Gotham and then immediately straight to bed though. Just, y’know, something that wouldn’t take hours and hours. There had to be something they could do in the city that wouldn’t keep them up all night, but would keep Bruce Wayne off their asses.

Unless Jason had shit to do. Danny… kinda hadn’t asked. The only plans he’d known about for the day was busting out Waylon, and then the potential trip to Frostbite.

Maybe he hadn’t meant for it to go so late? Maybe Danny should ask?

Maybe Jason was getting sick of him.

Maybe Jason was getting a little too good at reading auras, since that thought barely settled in before he broke the silence.

“What the fuck?”

And alright, that might also have been a coincidence Danny decided, brows furrowing as he looked for what had caught Jason’s attention.

It all looked normal up ahead to him. Bright green zone, a couple purple islands (was that the ghost of a Bat Burger? Maybe they should check this place out more), the haze of black smog that always surrounded…

Ah.

Yeah, they hadn’t really had that conversation yet, though Danny had meant to bring it up on the way home. Riiiight up until all that overthinking started.

Guess that made this introduction time. Sort of put a stop to wondering how to cheer Jason up… although depending on how Jason felt, it might just be a distraction.

Danny pulled to a stop, Jason coming in close before stopping alongside him, just in front like he might need to protect Danny from something.

Or like he overshot the stopping. Could be either, really. But Danny had a feeling it was at least a combo. He and Jason were just too alike, but it looked almost automatic. Vigilante training, and Danny’d bust his ass later about treating him like a civilian.

Jason was the civilian here, and his citizen.

He cleared his throat, wondering how exactly to go about this, since ghosts didn’t have an introduction protocol that wasn’t “throw down”. And spent about half a second wondering if that was actually on the table before deciding against it.

Sure, most ghost introductions involved a friendly punch up, but Lady Gotham had always been a little different. And this wasn’t exactly your standard “new ghost who dis”.

“Right, yeah… we didn’t see her last time we were in the Zone. Jason, this is-”

“You think my own boy wouldn’t know me, Phantom?”

The voice came from all around them, low and dark and smokey sweet like molten chocolate with just a hint of whiskey. Jason stiffened and glared around harder, conscious caution battling with the sudden wave of relief from his core.

She spun herself from the smog of the city, like she always had. A tall, curvaceous woman built to Jack Fenton proportions, easily seven feet tall with dark mahogany skin and pitch black lipstick, perfect black hair coiled tight into an afro about her head. Smoky black makeup lined her eyes and caressed high, generous cheekbones in a line of clouds.

Long black gloves covered her hands and arms, one of which was held across her body, hand cupping the elbow of her other arm while the other held what probably was a full sized orange traffic cone like it was a cigarette holder. It looked wrong clasped in her hand, scale thrown off by her size. A thin plume of white smoke even spiralled from the wider end.

She wore a short flapper dress covered in layers of tassels, each of which flashed with beads of jet all along the length except for the last bead on a scattering of the strands, which were large, blood flecked pearls. Below the end of the skirt, her legs were lost in the spills of black smog surrounding her, though occasionally more flashes of pearl could be seen shifting through the murk.

It was her eyes that captured all of the attention though as she caught and held Jason’s gaze, a sly smile on those black lips. They glowed yellow from lid to lid, each pupil shaped like a bat.

The fight dropped out of Jason instantly, jaw dropping.

And yeah, maybe Danny should have expected that he’d… sort of recognize her? Jason was a Gothamite to the core, had been one of her true defenders since pixie boots were in style… right up until his own death.

And if Danny read that twitch right, it was costing him an effort not to automatically drop to one knee. So apparently that was just wired into him, and not just a Clockwork-thing. Good to know.

Her smile spread, showing sharp white teeth dripping with tar.

“My son,” she purred, her voice filling the air around them and sending almost visible ripples through the ectoplasm of the realms, “it is so good to finally meet you in person.”

In front of Danny, Jason tensed again. Whatever he’d recognized didn’t quite cut through bat-paranoia, apparently.

“Danny, who is this?” He asked cautiously, his voice low and not taking his eyes off the twin bat signals pointed at him.

Lady Gotham sighed heavily, taking a deep pull on her traffic cone and blowing out a billowing plume of smog. She gestured to Danny, who nodded quickly.

Totally not gonna “I told you so” the city spirit for the city he was living in. King or not, he had some manners.

“Jason, Lady Gotham. She’s…” he hesitated, not sure how exactly to phrase it.

Had they talked about city spirits? It felt like they had? But it had been so little time, he wasn’t sure.

Lady Gotham stepped back in smoothly, shooting Jason a laconic smile and spreading her arms.

“I am exactly what it sounds like. The beating heart of the city, born from the well of souls and desperate hopes of those who call it home. Every shadow in the alley, every gargoyle you shelter under, every parapet that caught your grapple and let you fly…”

Jason had stopped breathing, which was alright as long as they were in the Zone but might not be later, his eyes tracking desperately over the ghost before them. Her smile softened, becoming fond, tender, her free hand now reaching out towards him.

“… and you have been mine since the day you were born, Jason Todd.”

Jason was…

Jason was. He didn’t know what he was.

He hadn’t realised just how much noise his heart made thumping until the first time it stopped. Until he’d slammed back to life, heard its drumbeat thudding in his head, every second of every day.

This felt a little like that.

Like a sound he’d been hearing all of his life had gone quiet, and then come roaring back in full swing. It was too much, and not enough, and everything he’d missed in Nanda Parbat and around the world when he’d been training, left with only the thudding of his heart.

The sounds of Gotham. Normal city noises, most of them; the honks and occasional screeches of cars, the buzz of people. And then the screams, gunshots, mad cackling laughter that most cities usually only saw in designated areas.

And underneath it all, a low, throbbing pulse, a hum in the back of his head that meant he was home. That told him where he was, every street corner or shady alleyway.

He could navigate the city blindfolded, knew every gargoyle, every running gutter and rusty grate, listening to that beat. That beat that told him it was his place, the one thing that nothing and no one could ever take away from him, not even all the bullshit with the League of Assassins.

He hadn’t really noticed it going quiet in the Ghost Zone before. Which, y’know, they’d been busy. He’d had a lot on his mind, and… well, it happened any time he left the city.

Going away with the Outsiders, it didn’t matter if they crossed the bay to Metropolis or went to space, Jason knew when he wasn’t in Gotham. Knew when he woke up in a hospital bed whether or not he was home just from that beat.

He’d started thinking it might be the city’s ectoplasm, since Danny was so sure that was why he’d risen before. Might have explained why the Zone was a little different; it was all ectoplasm.

And then he’d looked at this woman made of smog and shadows and smoking a fucking traffic cone, and the beat almost brought him to his knees.

How could he not know her? They danced every night, her hand in his, guiding his guns, his grapple, cupped gently around the back of his neck and showing him where to look. Hiding him from Oracle’s cameras, pointing him at those who attacked the weak like he was the gun himself.

Familiar as his own shadow. Constant as gravity.

And it was that familiarity that pulled at every ounce of Bat training, that unconscious recognition and trust that forced him to doubt.

Hypnotists were the fucking worst. Magic users were all annoying, but Jason would tangle with any of the rest before dealing with a hypnotist. They were worse than Condiment King and Kite Man combined into some ketchup splattered hell kite.

And the more something deeper than the Pit whispered that this wasn’t hypnotism, wasn’t an outside influence, was just the deepest part of himself recognising the deepest part of his home, the harder he fought that feeling.

Until her hand reached for his, and she said his name, and his hand was in hers before he could stop himself.

Contact was… it was a lot.

A barrage of sounds, smells, the backs of every alley flashing through his mind as he was bombarded with memories. Memories? Or was that what was happening now?

Flashes of rooftops, bodies tensed in the shadows, goons working below in blissful ignorance that was about to be shattered. Breaking windows, sprays of bullets or gas or worse, moving and punching and taking down without killing.

He caught sight of Cass for a brief moment, her shape outlined in glowing shadows that definitely weren’t visible to the men running past her hiding place. But of course they weren’t; that was the point.

Cass was the perfect shadow anywhere on Earth, her stealth unparalleled by anything but actual magic, but in Gotham? In Gotham the darkness wrapped her in loving arms, held her close, made sure she was never found.

His baby sister, Gotham’s child even if she’d never been to the city until she was nearly an adult.

More flashes, Dick flying across an alley in Bludhaven (thankfully in his current suit, not the Discowing, which might mean this was the present? Or just that Jason had been seeing him so much more lately that there were just more memories of him like this?), and that made Jason pause.

Bludhaven wasn’t Gotham. That was literally the point. That was why Dick lived there.

And he heard her low chuckle, smoky and soft in his ear.

*Just across the bay, my dear? No, he would have to go so much farther to be free of me, to stop being mine.*

The voice was warm and fond, soft like crushed velvet and so full of affection and pride it tugged at something in Jason’s core.

Something from the little boy who’d watched Robin fly through the air and could barely believe he’d touched the same dream.

Lady Gotham hadn’t moved, her hand still in his in the exact same position, and while he couldn’t see her past the images to know if she’d spoken with mouth or mind he had a feeling he knew. She was in his head, in his heart, and he’d not spoken aloud.

Before Jason would work out how to reply, if he even wanted to reply, his attention was caught by something else in the cascade of images.

A dark spot, not in every scene (at least not that he noticed), but often enough. Something that looked like a shadow, but just a fraction deeper than the rest, a fraction darker, that moved when all the shadows around it were still.

Now that he looked for it he could see it everywhere, the sight of it sending a shiver up his spine that made his hair stand on end. It wasn’t fear; Jason was well acquainted with fear, as little as it bothered him.

This was… tension, anticipation, recognition, the same thing he’d felt when there hadn’t been an Outsiders mission in a while and Roy had decided to hunt him for sport. Something, someone so familiar, with such a strong place in his life, someone he knew was damn capable, setting their sights on him.

(It was always play when Roy did it, a game to keep them both on their toes and get a different kind of training in. Jason didn’t know if Roy ever hunted the others; asking felt like cheating somehow.)

And then suddenly the shadow turned in a different way, its attention locking on to Jason in return and adrenaline shot through him like a bolt of lighting.

It had to be live. Or the shadow knew when someone saw its image. But it had looked back, raising the hair on the back of his neck until it felt like he’d become a Studio Ghibli character, and it was still looking at him.

His hands itched for his guns, the All-Blades, the Fright Gun, and he felt the large, hot hand still holding his tighten for just a second, felt Lady Gotham’s chuckle through his whole body like he was a speaker, and then he was looking at her face again, fond and smiling and larger than life.

“Now now, my sons,” she purred softly, definitely speaking with her mouth this time even if it was just as warm as when he’d heard her in his head, “play nicely.”

Had she been that tall before? She’d been taller than him, certainly, her hand completely enfolding his the way Bruce’s had when Jason had first come off the streets, but now she loomed almost twice as large.

Still holding his hand in hers, only now his was positively dainty, a doll’s hand held by the child who adored it. Her thumb was almost the size of his whole hand, brushing gently over the back.

She could probably snap him in half in an instant.

He’d probably let her.

Her smile spread, reacting to the thought, and her other huge hand came up to gently cup his face, all the pride and love he’d only ever seen from Catherine Todd before.

“My brave little knight…” her eyes closed for a moment and she sucked in a deep breath, her whole body gently expanding as she savoured… something. Then those signal eyes opened and fixed on him, full of lazy satisfaction. “Your belief is so sweet.”

The effect was somewhat spoiled by the traffic cone now pinched effortlessly between two fingers. It hadn’t changed size, which Jason supposed had to be his answer.

She totally wasn’t that big before. And apparently it was his fault? His… belief?

Danny was hovering in the more figurative, mother hen way now (literal not being optional at the moment), and Jason could feel his tension now that he was focused. He’d gotten closer, his aura putting him just behind Jason’s shoulder, but hadn’t gone further.

Not moving between them, which he already had the feeling would have been Danny’s preference after the gala. Jason would tease him about that if he hadn’t already put himself between the stranger and Danny without thinking. At least Danny hadn’t actually done it.

Whether that was because they weren’t in any danger or Danny was waiting for his go ahead didn’t actually matter; Jason couldn’t quite believe either of them would walk away from a fight with Lady Gotham no matter that Danny was the king.

A part of him deeper than the pit knew that she would never fight him. That it was his job to fight for her, to make sure she never dirtied her hands more than the streets already did.

Forcing himself to suck in a breath - and wondering why his lungs ached - Jason gave her hand a hesitant squeeze. Tried not to think about how ludicrously small his hand was tucked into the curl of her fingers.

“Uh… I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but…” he paused, words failing him, and wondered how the actual fuck you were supposed to talk to a whole ass city’s soul all at once.

Lady Gotham laughed softly, giving his cheek (and consequently whole damn head) a gentle pat before pulling away, leaning back to sit as if in an invisible chair and regard him.

“But we’ve known each other from the day you were born,” she agreed gently, her voice still heartbreakingly warm.

No one had ever been so open in their love for him. It all but coloured the air in a rosy pink.

And alright, that was probably at least 90% because his family were in constant contest for Most Emotionally Constipated Soul On Earth and Alfred was British, but Jason still had no idea how to handle it. He had her full, undivided attention, which part of him knew he’d never had in the physical city.

She had so many protectors watching over her, even the crankiest parts of Jason couldn’t begrudge her that. He wasn’t exactly sure he was enjoying it now.

“Ask,” she said softly, gently, the word still echoing around them but in a way that suddenly seemed more enclosed. More private. The echo of a bathroom instead of a grand cavern.

Sucking in another deep breath, Jason realized he had about a thousand questions. But he had to start with the most pressing.

“That shadow, what was it? It was… following the others, all of them. And you called it your son?”

She’d called him her son too, and for the first time since he’d died the word didn’t rankle. But that could be the next question.

The smile she gave him was blatantly approving and she waved a hand gently, a patch of smog in her surrounding cloud suddenly taking on a darker, more solid shape. It wasn’t the shadow itself, there was none of the buzzing adrenaline or life in its movements. Just a facsimile.

He still kind of wanted the All-Blades. Just, y’know, for evil testing.

“Yes, your… brother,” Lady Gotham said slowly, rolling the word over her lips as if tasting it. “That is the Curse of Gotham. Older than the city itself, technically, but before more people came it was simply a malevolence on a patch of land.”

She waved a hand, dispelling the temporarily solidified smog easily.

“It was only once the city was founded, then filled with souls and then despair and superstition and belief that he became a true Curse. As you are mine, the rogues are his. Bearing his mark, flying his flag, putting fear and doubt into every soul as they huddle against the chaos and swear to each other that there is a darkness here like no other.”

Somehow, this did not endear Jason to his “brother”. It didn’t please Danny either, who leaned just a little into Jason’s shoulder, a sudden wariness pinging through his aura.

“Wait, so the curse is older than you? Then why are you…” he trailed off, cheeks flushing suddenly as he asked what Jason was pretty sure was the least important question.

Gotham bestowed him with a gentle, somewhat less fond smile too. Favouritism where he was the favourite kinda make Jason’s skin buzz.

“As I said, it was the city which gave him form. Land can hold a myriad of curses, and any city built here would certainly have felt his affects. But belief…” she paused for a moment, lips pursing as she considered her next words.

Yellow eyes flicked back towards Jason, measuring him, and her smile spread into something distinctly self satisfied.

“Belief matters, for the Neverborn. It’s food and drink, our lifeblood, a source of power. And people believed in Gotham long before they made more than jokes about the curse. No one says that Gotham is on cursed land; they speak of Gotham’s Curse. And so he is mine.”

Jason got the distinct impression that while everything was well established now, it had been more touch and go at one point… close enough that having won was still a point of pride. He didn’t even realize he was smiling back.

It was also probably what she’d meant before… when she’d grown. His belief fed her. Which… kinda meant that him thinking they couldn’t possibly win a fight was a self fulfilling prophecy.

Not quite sure if that was funny or worrying, Jason dismissed the thought and refocused. Some curse was still stalking his family after all, and probably him when he went back to the living world.

“So if this Curse owns all the rogues… is he going to try and hurt the others?” He asked cautiously. Because if none of this was new, the Curse had been stalking them all since they put on the cowls.

How many close calls…

No. Jason hadn’t been in Gotham when Joker got him. He’d thought it was the arrogance of youth that had made him feel invulnerable in Gotham as a Robin, but now he knew there really had been hands hovering over him.

Hands that hadn’t dropped him until he’d left the city. Half the world away and all alone, still sure he was invulnerable… right up until he wasn’t.

He only realized his attention had been drifting when he snapped back, a large and achingly gentle thumb brushing his cheek. Now bigger than his head, still smelling of the smog of the city.

Lady Gotham smiled gently, the dark bats in her eyes crinkling.

“He is no danger to you,” she told him softly, focusing on the question that was asked. Not his wandering thoughts, though he got the feeling she knew anyway.

Drawing back, she looked thoughtfully from him to Danny, taking another drag on her traffic cone, apparently thinking. Held the smogs in for a long moment, until she seemed to come to a conclusion and blew out a long stream.

“The Curse makes the rogues; takes those already on the edge of something bad, and pushes them over. Turns the stagnation of despair into frantic, violent action. It is what he is, what he does… a lingering rot land deep, which feeds on the darkness and breeds more in the souls of Gotham’s inhabitants.”

That definitely sounded like something dangerous to Jason, but who was he to interrupt Gotham herself? A sidelong glance made him wonder if she’d caught that thought too; just how well could she read him?

She waved the smouldering traffic cone in his general direction, blanketing him in a wave of almost comforting black smog.

“And yet, you notice, so few of the rogues seek to permanently remove any of your heroes from the board?”

Danny sucked in a sharp breath beside him, Jason’s heart clenched, but before either could protest, Lady Gotham gave a heavy sigh and inclined her head, smile slipping entirely for the first time.

“The Joker is an unfortunate exception. There is… something worse there, deeper, darker, but I will explain later. For now, consider the others. So many who could, so many chances that they could have taken to kill each of you. I would not allow it, of course, yet even those who wish to see Batman permanently defeated rarely even try to end his life. It is not for no reason.”

There was a true solemnity, almost pain in her face as she spoke of the Joker, eyes fixed on Jason and full of sorrow. Yet nothing in her aura, no push of regret-sadness or anything similar. Nothing to affect his own emotions, and Jason had the feeling that that was deliberate.

As if she knew how much he hated being controlled, pushed around. Or she just… didn’t want to do that to him. It was tough to say, but he was also self aware enough to know he was puzzling that out rather than thinking much about her words.

Of course the Joker was something worse than the fucking Curse of Gotham. Naturally. And y’know what else he was?

Not Jason’s fucking problem right now.

Lady Gotham had paused with him, waiting for his acknowledgment apparently, and Jason gave a stiff nod for her to continue. He’d asked the damn question. He needed to focus on the answer.

A gentle incline of her head the only sign she’d seen anything at all, Lady Gotham continued.

“The Curse will not harm your family, and nor do most of the rogues seek to actually remove you, because your family’s activities are integral to powering the Curse,” she said simply, and that snapped any fragments of Jason’s attention firmly back into place as he stiffened.

Danny tensed beside him as well, still hanging back, but it was Jason who spoke. He didn’t need help on this one.

“Wait, what? How the hell are we helping the Curse?!” He demanded, brows furrowing.

If the Curse made the rogues by taking people on the edge and throwing them off, sure, that kinda made sense. Gotham had always been a cesspit of crime, but it used to be at least 85% less brightly spandex coloured before the Bat came along.

Much as Jason didn’t think Bruce took his mission far enough, he could admit that at least the “normal” gang violence had died down significantly. For one thing, most of the old gangs had been driven out by the rogues, or absorbed by converts like Penguin and Black Mask. There wasn’t much space in Gotham these days for just run-of-the-mill crime.

And Jason himself had gouged a chunk out of what was left, which he used to find extremely satisfying… but how would that help the Curse? Unless… the Curse had pushed that darkness in him…

Lady Gotham shook her head, that fond smile curling sadly at her lips as she reached down to gently tip his chin up with a massive finger.

“No, my dear… you are not helping the Curse. He could no longer exist without you,” she explained softly, the dark and dusty smogs building heavily around them. Just seeing them made Jason’s throat itch…

He clenched his jaw shut, focusing on her face instead. Waiting for that to make some fucking sense.

Lady Gotham hummed thoughtfully, holding his chin a moment longer before releasing him, waving a hand vaguely through the smoggy air.

“It is… contrast. There are no shadows without the light, no sweet without bitterness, no… no hope without despair. And no despair without hope.” She seemed pleased with the metaphor, bat signal eyes bright in suddenly building gloom. Which then fixed on him.

“When people lose hope… when they give up on Gotham, accept the awfulness in their lives as mundane, it drains them of their will, their power to believe. If nothing fights the Curse, pushes back on the tides of corruption, then who’s to say there is a curse at all? Just mundane bad governance. Certainly nothing unique about that, in this world.”

A hand cut through thick black clouds and Jason realized abruptly that he’d lost sight of everything but her eyes, shining in the darkness. And then the shadows spiralled in front of him, whipped by her fingers into a familiar black silhouette.

“But the Bats… the birds, all of Gotham’s caped defenders? No other city in the world could fail to be safe under your constant attentions. No other city could take the stream of wealth and charity Bruce Wayne pours into it and be less than utopian. And yet Gotham remains, a far better city than the one you were born in, but still one of the most dangerous places to live in this country.”

The shadowy bat began to glow, lined in a bright golden light, yet somehow it only made the surrounding shadows all the darker. It swished its cape, striking at invisible foes, and the clouds curled in around it.

“What else but a curse could cause this? And what a powerful curse it must be, with a new vigilante showing every month, and still not a dent?”

The blackness around them grew darker still, the bat’s glow suddenly seeming weak and fragile. Jason’s chest lurched, his heart screaming to reach out and catch the faltering figure, pull it close and keep it safe, but he stamped it down.

It wasn’t Bruce in danger. It was just a light-show, a visual demonstration. And it sure as hell didn’t need his protection.

And then a skewer of pure blackness plunged through its heart and the golden glow winked out, leaving them in pitch darkness.

Jason’s heart clenched, a dread chill running down his spine and he spun around, searching for Lady Gotham and her searchlight eyes, but he couldn’t see anything. Not even Danny, who always glowed faintly in his ghost form.

Still, her voice continued, completely calm and unshakeable.

“If the symbol falls… if the Bat is broken, the Curse will gain a great deal of power for a day. Perhaps a generation. And then people will forget, and forget that they believed, and it will wane once again. A much worse loss, now that he knows the power he can have.”

The billowing clouds of darkness pulled back and the glowing green of the Ghost Zone almost made Jason shield his eyes. They hadn’t moved, of course they hadn’t; Danny was still right beside him, his aura a heavy throb of new understanding-exasperated-mildly amuse.

Which… well, yeah, now that he could breathe again Jason could admit it had all been pretty dramatic. If she was his first ghost, he’d have assumed it was just a Gotham thing, but Danny was also a dramatic little shit, so.

Sucking in a deep breath, Jason blew it out slowly, calming the beating of his heart. Lady Gotham looked quite pleased with herself, still sat reclined a little ways away.

It was one hell of a powerpoint, and he was pretty sure he’d got the gist of things. Not that it made any of this make sense, but it was pretty much what he’d expect from magic.

“So… the Curse makes the rogues, to make people think the city is cursed, but it also wants to keep the vigilantes safe…” a phrase from an old book tugged at his mind, and Jason couldn’t resist a slight smile, “because you gain status by the quality of your enemies?”

It startled a short laugh from Danny, quickly stifled as Lady Gotham beamed her approval.

“In essence, yes. The struggle will be unending, because it must be, but we have come to… an understanding of late. Despair and death feed my Curse in the immediate sense, but when both are only to be expected… it’s a paltry meal. There is inevitability, even boredom, when it’s all despair all the time. So now the city has hope, and I prosper.”

Lady Gotham preened, plumping up her perfectly round curls, the same self satisfied smile she’d had when mentioning how she had become the dominant spirit. Maybe the Curse hadn’t quite worked out just how much she got out of their little understanding too. Then she shrugged.

“And the rogues have their little obsessions, their tricks and games, and sometimes there is despair and sometimes there is death. But what matters is that you are there to fight against it, to nobly win the battle…”

“Even if we’ll never win the war,” Jason finished grimly, his mood souring.

Wasn’t that what he’d always told Bruce? That his damn rules, his “No Killing” standard meant that everything else he did was pointless? That just locking people up in the bloody sieve that was Arkham was never going to change anything?

Lady Gotham’s smile softened to something bittersweet and sad, and she nodded gently.

“Gotham city will never know peace, Jason,” she told him gently, and suddenly she was smaller again, scant feet taller than him, and holding out a hand he’d be able to close his own around. “It will never be like any other city. But the only reason I stand at all is because people like you will look at this city, with its soot and its smuts and its people who have nowhere else to go, and decide that it is worth fighting for.”

Those eyes were fixed on him again, black bats on yellow lights, and then suddenly… suddenly the irises were black, and the bats a familiar deep red. It might have been a blink; it might just have been that sharp moment of change.

“There is one way that the war will end,” she told him softly, stepping closer through the void until he could have counted the pearls skittering across her dress, and every jet bead around them, if he could have looked away from her face.

“On the day that those heroes turn away, that all else give up on Gotham and turn their backs. When no one stands against the tide of night and it is dragged down and away into the dark heart of the Cursed land beneath. It is only hope that stands in the way of that end, my Jason Todd… my Robin.”

His brow furrowed and a fleeting smirk dashed across her lips, the faintest flicker of her gaze to Danny beside him, and Jason understood. It wasn’t Robin’s colours in her eyes, no matter what Damian had done to the suit.

Her Red Hood.

But she wouldn’t out him to Danny, not even now.

His gaze fell to her hand again, suddenly bare and dark and open and nails that were a rich, bloody red. His blood, and Bruce’s, and every vigilante, and every citizen, and every rogue that stood, and fought, and died for her. Every life that was ruined or ended, all in this fight that could never be won, only lost.

He met her gaze again, felt the red bat he’d emblazoned across his chest once more pierce his soul.

Because… this was what it really meant, to wear the bat. Not just that he had forgiven Bruce, that they’d reconciled, that he’d rejoined the family. That he wasn’t going to kill unless he had to, and there was no other choice.

No.

He wore the bat because he wasn’t just the Red Hood, a name he’d stolen from the damn clown and carved across the city in blood until people only thought of him when they said it. He wasn’t the crime lord who’d filled a bag with the heads of his rivals’ best lieutenants, took Crime Alley in a bloody fist, and was just another gang leader. Just a bigger, scarier, nastier guy than the people who’d wanted that alley before to strip mine its people and poison its kids.

And sure, being that guy had worked. It kept the worse gangs out. Kept his street kids fed and occupied, and mostly out of jail. Did what all of Bruce’s crusade had never managed to do; he’d cleaned up Crime Alley.

And it hadn’t been enough.

Hadn’t made anyone feel safe; not when all they had was Red Hood’s whim that kept them from going right back to the mess they’d been left in.

The Alley was different too, this last year. He’d always tried, as Hood and Jason. Wanted people to come together, build a community, to feel safe in their home and protect it.

To feel like someone finally, actually cared about them. That someone cared about Crime Alley for its people, not what they could take from them. That they would be defended.

And people had played along, back before he took the bat. They’d come out, cleaned up the street, fixed up some store fronts and made careful conversation, because that was what you did when the man with the big guns said he wanted you to play nice.

And they’d been wary, cautious, watching the Hood like he’d snap at any second no matter what Jay told them. And he’d known they were just… humouring him. Didn’t believe in it. And he’d thought the only way to get them to see was to keep going, keep giving back until they realized he really meant it all.

He’d patrolled since the first day he’d come back, but it had been the day he’d gone out in his modified uniform, the red bat on his chest, that things finally changed.

His working girls and boys didn’t straighten up when he approached. The street kids didn’t run when his shadow passed overhead. People looked up into the night and they smiled, thanked him, reached out to the gang and left little red bat signs in their windows.

With the red helmet and black body armour, he’d been just another thug to fear. And oh, he’d fucking hated it at first, turned his vision to sickly green that all this acceptance only came with B’s goddamn bat on his chest.

When the kids tagged it on walls, dumpsters, taunting threats at the edge of their territory to every other gang in Gotham, they finally had a bat-approved protector.

Never enough that he’d taken the bat off, though, and now he could see what all those little signs really said.

“We have a protector too.”

“Someone will find justice for us.”

And, his personal favourite (love those little Alley bastards), “Our bat’s bigger than yours.”

Bruce had put the shape on the symbol when he became the night and wanted to drive fear into the hearts of criminals instead of the ordinary citizens, but it wasn’t really his. It was Superman’s S, the symbol of the House of El, the symbol of Lady Gotham turned to something humans could see.

The symbol of a protector, a guardian, and uniquely Gotham’s own.

It was all there, in those red on black eyes, in that soft, knowing smile.

“Have you ever backed down from a fight just because you knew you couldn’t win, Jason Todd?” She asked softly, so softly, and he had to smile back.

She’d known him since the day he was born, and there was only one thing he could say to that.

He took her hand.

“Never.”

——————

LISTEN Y’ALL I HAVE BEEN HOLDING THIS LADY GOTHAM REVEAL SO CLOSE TO THE CHEST.

HER DRESS. HER HAIR. HER GODDAMN TRAFFIC CONE! Anyway she’s wonderful and she’s perfect and she will be back next chapter too, but fuck knows when that will be, so! Hopefully a little less time than this last one, but We Shall See.

This chappy will go up on AO3 tomorrow, I usually try and do same day but I gotta be up early Yet Again and I still…. Haven’t done replies on the last one, so 😅

Wish me luck for the next chapter, I have SO MANY things planned and the outline is just sizzling and we are finally out of introductions territory and it’ll be time for the Plot! Ah, my beloved plot, which will hopefully pick up and speed things along a little more in-fic timewise…

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xysidhequeen · 5 months

Text

So I made it 4 years without being struck down by AO3 Author Curse! But here we are. I’ll spare y’all the details but let’s just say “fuck this year” and leave it there. We’ve had the requisite Third Bad Thing and I will burn the universe down if it goes for a fourth

What this means for y’all, of course, is that there’s been a long ass break between last chapter and this one! Aaaaand this one is being broken in half because it is Longer Than Tumblr Allows

(And they’ve lessened how many paragraph breaks you get cuz this one is only about 9.5k and it made me add it in thirds, woe is me)

So, as usual, links to the first chapter, last chapter, and the link to the AO3 version is I think in BOTH, so if you can’t find it from there I can’t help you 😁

First Chapter:

Last Chapter:

And just a little recap where last we left off:

Bruce has gone to the Watchtower to debrief the Justice League about Amity Park and the Anti Ecto Acts, and been told that Jason has left the land of the living! But like, on purpose

Jason and Danny have gone to visit Frostbite and learned that they are ghost-bonded, which you should take seriously like being ghost-married, and that Jason is gonna pop out Pitty in a couple more days/weeks and have to emotionally raise a ghost-baby

Tucker, Tim, and Conner are all playing video games and hiding out from the Amity Parker/Bat Chat for Tim and Tucker’s mutual stalking ways, which Sam blew wide open by sharing Timblr, as punishment for Tucker not telling her they were all alive

(Danny’s off the hook cuz Tucker was haunting his phone with soundtracks for half the day)

And Damian’s off being Sketchy And Mysterious

————————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 1)

The evening was beginning to draw in, the sun getting low over Gotham city. Between her patrol the night before, helping Signal out with a case, and then that brief group heart attack about Jason, it had already been a really long day.

Spoiler cracked her neck a couple times and sighed, then sunk into the shadow behind a gargoyle.

It was smaller than usual… and occupied. Robin glowered up at her, leaping up to sit on the gargoyle’s head instead. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hiss at her like a cranky cat, which diffused all of Spoiler’s tension (but would only make his worse if she mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow).

Sighing philosophically she settled back against the base of the gargoyle, tipping her head back to see him.

“Hey… what are you doing out so early? Usually you lot wait until sundown to swing from the shadows,” she pointed out (rather fairly, she thought). Totally ignoring that she was 1000% usually one of “you lot”.

Robin just scowled disdainfully down at her, then twisted his head away to glare at the city instead.

“As if I needed any more reason to be out than you do,” he sniffed archly.

Spoiler grinned, puffing herself up. She did have an answer for this one, and, being generous or not, winding Robin up was always a treat.

“Hey, I was actually requested today. Signal needed a second pair of eyes on the back door of a bust. Didn’t see you there,” she added innocently, a brow rising.

It was technically possible that Robin could have suited up and left the manor in between Bruce’s message and Tim’s response. Spoiler wouldn’t put money on it though.

He’d have had to be on his way down already, and while they could all change quickly, there were no rushed or sloppy patches to her experienced eye.

His hair was even neatly slicked back into the traditional Robin spikes, one every Robin but her and Duke had used during their time as the baby bird.

Nah, he’d not rushed out in a panic, even if he was still more tense than he should have been. Every line of the kid was tight with… Spoiler cocked her head thoughtfully.

Frustration?

Definitely not unusual, Damian didn’t have Dick’s temper but he’d spent pretty much all of his first few years in Gotham unbearably frustrated with them all. It had just been a while since she’d seen it so… visibly.

And for all Steph was a gleeful little shit and loved poking at trouble, she wasn’t cruel. There was no point in pushing Robin if he was already on edge.

So she shrugged nonchalantly and looked forward instead, reaching back over her head to pat him gently on the foot. He didn’t dodge, which only cemented her decision.

“‘Course, no rule against taking a daylight run if you’re in the mood. See anything interesting?” She asked innocently.

Kid wouldn’t admit it if he had been worrying.

Silence reigned for another long moment, and then Robin huffed and dropped down to the rooftop beside her, folding himself back into the sharper shadow the waning daylight provided.

“No.” Short and sweet, unlike the kid himself.

But he also hadn’t left, and Spoiler was gonna call that a win.

“Will you be out tonight too?” She asked instead of pushing, reminding herself yet again; he’d open up in his own time.

Hypothetically.

Robin made a soft, disgusted noise, glowering at the smog filled sky. Probably even in the right direction for the Watchtower.

“I intend to be. Someone must keep an eye on things,” he grumbled, and Spoiler made an effort not to take it personally.

B had been majorly distracted with all this Amity Park business, not even breathing down their necks about the usual nightly reports. The rogues hadn’t exactly noticed yet, but the goons had.

The big Bat himself not making an appearance for a couple of nights usually attracted some comment, and an up-til-now entirely Bat-free new year?

The guys she’d helped Signal grab today had been muttering about it right until they ran into her arms. Fists.

They’d mentioned not seeing Stabby Robin either though.

Which she might as well also mention.

“Weren’t you out last night too? I saw your gear missing when I dropped by at the end of the night,” she added when he tensed again, hands wedged in her utility belt. “Didn’t hear you on comms though.”

And that was more than just rude; it was bad protocol, and Robin, for all his other faults, respected the strictness of protocol. Not being chatty was one thing, but if you were out on the town you had to call in.

He stayed silent, not looking at her. Spoiler decided he could use just a little nudge. Totally not because she was getting impatient. And nosy.

“Y’know unless you went out tech free I can just ask Oracle,” she pointed out gently, giving his shoulder a gentle bump.

It got him to glower up at her anyway.

“I was not on patrol,” he grumbled, whites of his mask narrowed before returning his glare to the city at large, “like I am not today.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Spoiler flipped a mental coin. Figured why not; they were already doing well.

Kid must be on the verge of having to, dread the thought, ask for help.

“And what would you be doing out and about if not patrolling…” she began, then stopped when a piece clicked suddenly into place.

Robin, Damian, was about as social as a feral cat. And about as friendly with anyone who got close to those he considered his.

Right now, Danny Fenton and his friends had more than half the family utterly wound up. All except Bruce in a good way, Spoiler was the first to admit, but Robin wouldn’t see it like that.

The only trick was, how to word the question.

Spoiler liked blunt. It made her stand out from the bats, who all played way too much mental and emotional chicken to be healthy. She’d always been more of a bird that way.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Hood’s little disappearance today, would it?” She asked instead, grinning broadly when Robin twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

From the scowl he shot her he knew it too, and looked away quickly enough that he knew there was no taking it back. He folded his arms across his chest and sulked and fuck he was just adorable.

She’d bet anything Dick used to pout exactly like that.

Still, she tempered the grin down to a slight smile. Dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and letting go when he pulled away.

“Worried me too. Were you close enough to see anything?” Because yeah, if Robin was already at least on his way into uniform before the message arrived?

Spoiler would put easy, easy money on him having been already tailing Jason and Danny around. Last night too, probably. She and Cass had left early to take the night shift, leaving Tim and Damian with the Amity Parkers.

Damian had one hell of a dose of his father’s paranoia, and Steph considered it a solemn duty to teach him about personal boundaries to keep him from turning out just like the old bat.

Just a little friendly stalking from the rooftops didn’t really count though. Not between family.

Robin had tensed right up again too, but when she didn’t push the contact or needle at him he slowly relaxed back down. Scowled at her feet instead of his own.

“No,” he admitted bitterly, both at definitely having been busted and probably at having nothing to report, “Todd… Hood spoke to the magician. They argued, he went back inside Freeze’s place and did not reappear when his tracker went through the roof and into the sky.”

Spoiler blinked, mildly surprised.

“Hood was wearing a tracker? Didn’t think he was in the mood.”

“He wasn’t,” Robin corrected with a derisive sniff.

And… yeah, they were gonna have to do a little more work on that whole “boundaries” thing. Although the odds of Hood not noticing that he’d been tagged were lower than Robin probably thought. Keeping a tag on him that he didn’t want there?

Nah. She may not exactly trust Jason, but that was how she knew how good he was at finding and disabling rogue trackers. And sure, Damian was better than her at some things, but if Cass couldn’t sneak a tracker onto Red Hood no one could.

Kinda cute that Jason let the little guy think he’d successfully bugged him.

At least the constant mild stalking was just standard for the family.

Shaking her head, she gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

“That’s rough. Flying’s cheating,” she commiserated with a sly look to the sky.

She’d heard a super cross Oracle’s radar. Conner, almost certainly if Robin was still out alone.

Too bad he’d not thought to call his own Superboy, though taking flight himself wouldn’t have helped if dimensional travel followed.

Robin made another disgusted little tut, then pushed off the gargoyle and stormed away. Spoiler watched him go for a moment, then shrugged.

“Hey, go get some sleep if you’re coming back out tonight,” she called after him. Grinned when he flipped her off without turning.

If he’d been off stalking Jason and Danny two days in a row, he’d need some rest.

“And don’t forget your report,” she teased and actually laughed when he raised his other hand to flip her off with both before leaping off the edge of the roof, swinging back towards the bat cave.

Stephanie Brown had never been prouder in her life than the first day Damian had said “fuck” in front of his dad. Far be it from her to demand anyone transform into a social butterfly, but she personally was pretty damn sure that nothing was gonna help Damian out of his “raised by assassins” shell than learning some good old fashioned swearwords.

And a little teenaged rebellion. The proudest day was totally gonna be when he finally told his grandfather to fuck off (or any suitable equivalent; Steph wasn’t choosy).

Leaning back into the gargoyle’s shadow, Spoiler surveyed the city below. Technically, she’d been out as long as Damian had; if she wanted to be out tonight she’d need a quick nap too.

Or, more fun, she could nip back to the manor, kidnap Cass, and they could find and bully Tim and Tucker in person. Yeah, that was gonna be it.

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep. (Not that he knew much about how that actually felt, at least not when not recovering from serious injury.)

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

Even after three separate courses of Bruce’s bullshit, both directly and through the medium of John fucking Constantine. Not so long ago, Bruce would never even dare call him, much less try and set up a bat cave ambush. That… was probably technically a good sign?

Didn’t feel like one at the moment, but Jason actually felt almost good enough to be charitable with the old bat. A little emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

Jason was self aware enough to admit he’d probably had more than one breakdown owed to him. Maybe not a “take to the bed”, “trip to the sea” full Victorian lady meltdown, but he’d had a whole baby dropped on him. Except somehow worse.

He damn well deserved that freak out, and now that it was over and he’d been given what kinda felt like the ghost equivalent of speed… He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. Which… he should have been doing anyway. At least this part wasn’t solely for his benefit though.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. In this way, even if the Great One is not beside you, all ghosts will know that you are the chosen protector of their King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

“And all the other ghosts can just… see this?” He asked, not really sure what he was hoping to be told.

Frostbite switched from giving Danny a fond smile back to Jason, nodding brightly.

“Oh yes. Ectoplasm is very easily influenced by emotion, and bonds can form quite quickly. I presume you took an oath?” He asked, eyes sparkling in a way that made Jason pretty damn sure he’d met Clockwork.

Which, now that he thought about it…

Jason huffed out another deep breath, running a hand through his hair. As much as John Fucking Constantine specifically could ride a cactus straight to Hell… the guy mighta had the faintest inkling of a point about one thing.

“Yeah… about that.” He pulled a face, gaze tracking away from the others and down to the floor.

Would they think he was a dumbass too? Danny had been there when Clockwork made the offer and he’d been pretty against it, but Jason had thought he understood why.

It hadn’t sounded anything like Constantine’s claims of what he’d signed up for.

In the end, it was easier to address the question to Frostbite’s large hairy toes.

“I, uh… I made an oath to Clockwork, but do I have… a contract or something? The asshole magician I mentioned earlier was going on and on about eternal fucking servitude bullshit but it’d be nice to have something to shove in his face,” he added quickly, arm slipping back and almost around Danny (but with his hand still firmly on the table).

He didn’t need to wait to feel the guilt in Danny’s aura to head it off.

Jason wasn’t having second thoughts. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d signed up for, and when it came right down to it…

He didn’t think people could lie through their auras. Even when he was trying to project something like “I’m fine” and he wasn’t, he was pretty sure Danny could tell.

He could sure as hell tell when Danny was bluffing through his, which had happened maybe once total.

He trusted Danny. He trusted Frostbite. He even mostly trusted Clockwork, because for all the guy had been a little sketchy, Jason had felt his sincerity. How deeply he cared for Danny.

Keeping Danny safe forever didn’t sound like eternal servitude. Eternal babysitting, maybe, if Danny was being a pain in the ass, but he’d never top Damian at his most bratty.

Jason woulda been trying to protect Danny anyway. As far as he knew, knighthood just made that easier.

Which was another reason he’d like a look at his contract. You didn’t make it onto the streets as Robin without learning to read for loopholes, hidden clauses, and fine print. He may have already signed on the dotted line, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some wiggle room.

Danny, about to say something either apologetic or self deprecating, huffed out a breath as Jason’s arm slipped around him. Winded up giving him a half smile instead.

“Yeah… that’s a good point. I still need to find out if I can fire your ass.”

“Still didn’t hire me,” Jason pointed out archly, bumping his arm to knock Danny forwards a little.

The other halfa huffed a laugh this time and bumped him back.

“Yeah, and I gotta work out how to hire you so I can then immediately fire you,” he shot back.

Frostbite cut them both off with a raised hand, though he still looked fondly amused. Like they were cute little kids or something stupid.

“You will have to discuss this with Clockwork directly, young knight, but I do not believe a knighthood typically comes with a contract. It is a duty one is granted, and one that may be rescinded if you fail, but it is not a deal,” he explained patiently.

Jason’s brows furrowed a little, but at least he could feel Danny’s confusion-puzzled-not sure beside him too. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

Maybe he shoulda looked a little more into magic shit while he was with the League of Assassins. That would have been the time, especially if the Lazarus Pits were the just grunged ectoplasm.

“It kinda sounded like a deal when he offered it,” he said almost as a question, glancing back at Danny for confirmation.

Danny nodded. So it wasn’t just Jason.

“He gave me a cool magic gun in exchange for keeping Danny hale and hearty. Protecting him in the living and Infinite realms,” Jason added in case the wording counted, more sure as he remembered some of the reasons.

Fuck, had that only been a week ago? It felt like it’d been a whole year.

Frostbite gave them a neutral shrug, inclining his head.

“As I said, you will need to ask Clockwork directly. All I can tell you is that it is not innate to the position; a knighthood is not usually something bought and sold,” he explained patiently.

Danny hummed an agreement, cheek resting on Jason’s shoulder again.

“It’s normally all ghost-to-ghost too, so is there a way we can check if the halfa thing has changed it?” He asked Frostbite, leaning against the table too and totally not actually putting his arm around Jason back.

Jason felt a little more tension leech back out of him. Which raised another good point, actually.

“And not related or anything, but if you gave me a buncha those ice crystals could I just chew them to get the ecto for…” he hesitated, waving his free hand at his general chest area again.

Honestly, given half a chance he’d love to get a bowl full and try and pop the pit out in one go… it’d probably be easier to train from outside his body where it wouldn’t immediately know he was so full of shit… his own aura notwithstanding.

Yeah, he was still a little worried about being anyone’s emotional guide, but if he could just get the damn thing out in the world… maybe it could have other guides too.

“To answer the simpler question first, young knight, unfortunately the energized ectoplasm is only a short term boost and will not affect either of your cores. I will provide you with a small supply to assist your emotional control whilst you stabilize, if you wish?” Frostbite offered gently, a slight smile on his face.

Jason hesitated, considering things for a moment, then nodded. Sure, it wasn’t a solid “yes here is the answer to all your problems Jason just smack it in”, but it was a concrete solution to what had actually been worrying him.

Having another one of those weird “episodes”. He’d still be waiting to get Pitty all the way out, but at least he had a backup plan until then. He could pop an ecto-crystal each morning, get some energy, and worry less about night patrols.

Shit, he’d have more energy than he’d had since he died. The others were gonna be jealous as hell, but it wasn’t like they could steal and take his ghost meds. Probably.

Jason… wasn’t quite ready to think about the panic attack itself. He felt fine now, way better, and it wasn’t like it was the first he’d had.

Just…

Just the first that he remembered. That his heart started racing, his head rushing, ears filled with rushing static and the world hadn’t just melted into a green haze of blood and violence.

His early training with the League of Assassins had involved a lot of losing himself to the Pit. He’d wake up days later, body aching with exertions he couldn’t remember, and be told how many he’d killed.

Good news: no fear of that either, apparently. Pitty wasn’t pulling for control anymore, so the green haze was all Jason’s own.

Joy.

He had a nasty feeling that Danny would notice him spiralling from anywhere in Gotham. And probably ditch class to come check on him.

Like Hell. Jason’d fucking call Harley first, put himself through some breathing exercises or whatever, he did not need an emotional support Ghost King.

He gave Frostbite a quick nod, a small smile forming almost without thinking about it. The yeti was just… so caring and helpful. Not exactly something Jason had a wealth of experience with. He’d probably be a great example for Pitty.

Frostbite returned the smile, making a quick note on his tablet.

“And of course, your ghostly parent or a mentor should also be able to assist you. Spending time with those who are important to you, especially a comforting figure will help both your control and your core formation,” the yeti added in a slightly pointed way, like he’d read Jason’s mind, and Jason had to stifle a laugh.

Frostbite might be an eight foot tall hairy yeti, but he’d get along with Alfred like a house on fire… he was even as stubborn about not using their names as Alfred was about nicknames.

And when Jason thought about someone comforting, the beacon of emotional maturity and constraint… it could only be Alfred. He was more grandparent than parent, but certainly the only mentor Jason still looked up to. And a paragon of control besides.

Alfred could help him with Pitty. Model a little actual emotional restraint and control for the both of them. The only question was if Jason could just be up front and ask him, possibly revealing the secret early, or if he’d have to come up with an excuse for them to hang out.

Stupid thought. Jason knew damn well he could just walk into the kitchen and Alfred would be more than happy to spend time together. He wouldn’t need a ruse; he wouldn’t even need an excuse.

The knowledge settled warm and soft and happy inside him, until his brain caught up with his ears and stopped him short.

Wait.

“Ghost parent?” He asked cautiously, looking from Frostbite to Danny again. Danny pulled a face but Frostbite beat him to the punch.

“Ah, yes. We did not discuss that last time either. Your ghost parent, young knight, is the second strongest bond a young ghost can have. They are the ghost who welcomes you into the Infinite Realms, who will guide your steps and protect you until your own haunt has formed.”

Brows furrowing, Jason twisted to frown more directly at Danny, not quite sure if he was looking for confirmation or asking a question of his own.

Cuz, y’know, other than the whole “protecting until his haunt formed” (and Jason certainly didn’t need protecting), that sounded a lot like what Danny had been doing. Which would totally make it weird if Jason was a knight to his own ghost-dad.

Clearly following the same lines, Danny raised both hands and shook his head, almost but not quite stepping out of reach.

“Oh no, it’s not me. You’ve had a ghost parent long before I came along,” he said emphatically, the sudden panic on his face making Jason feel better about his own response to surprise parenthood.

He magnanimously decided not to tease Danny about it, turning instead to give Frostbite a questioning look.

“Should I know who my ghost parent is? Who gets to decide?” He asked cautiously. He’d never met another ghost before Danny, but he had this awful sinking feeling that Ra’s al Ghul might have more to do with the realms than just the pits, and he was the closest proxy. Even Tallia would be better. Maybe even Bruce.

Reading his tension, Frostbite clapped a massive furry hand on Jason’s shoulder, smile and aura both full of comfort-reassurance-calm.

“Normally yes young knight, though yours is a special case. Usually when a young ghost first finds its way to the realms, one of the first ghosts they encounter will take them under their wing. It is an honour to care for a young ghost, and a halfa even more so,” he explained gently.

Beside Jason, Danny snorted loudly.

“Oh, yeah, they totally come running to play happy families. Super wholesome,” he grumbled, arms folded as he leaned back into Jason’s weight.

Honestly, Jason could kinda spot common threads between what Frostbite just said and what Danny had told him about Fight Club; the play fighting was supposed to be about sharing powers, right? Just, y’know, between people with shit verbal communication to actually check in that everyone was on the same page.

The yeti sighed fondly, his hand moving from Jason’s shoulder to rest proudly on Danny’s. Given the width of Danny’s shoulders respective to the hand, the last two fingers were back on Jason’s other shoulder.

“Again, Great One, your circumstances were also exceptional. You did not explore the Ghost Zone until after you had established yourself to many as a competent fighter and protector of your haunt, which along with certain… adventures led most to believe you were far older than you are,” Frostbite explained patiently, with just the faintest hint that they’d been through this before.

Danny rolled his eyes and shot Jason double finger guns.

“Yyyyup, which is why I don’t have to deal with any of this “ghost parent” business,” he agreed brightly, tipping Jason a smirk, “get good.”

Jason flipped him off, but there was something… not in his aura, Frostbite’s was still very carefully toned back all calm medical professional, but in the creasing of the yeti’s eyes. Now, ghost yetis were definitely a new species and Batman drilled them all on the dangers of extrapolating body language on new species, but Jason had done his time on alien planets.

Something in the change, something in the shift, a little quirk of the brow Jason had noted when the yeti was amused. There was something funny here, and it wasn’t Danny’s quip.

Putting his suspicions aside for now, Jason settled on the more pressing matter.

“So who is my ghost parent? When do I get to meet them?” He asked cautiously, still not entirely convinced he hadn’t accidentally imprinted on Ra’s or Tallia. Cuz he hadn’t been in the Zone before Danny either.

Danny himself, much less concerned, waved a hand vaguely.

“Oh, we’ll deal with that on the way home. Go do a proper meet and greet, that sort of thing,” he said nonchalantly, and Jason’s shoulders settled a little.

“They’re in the Zone then?” He prodded a little further, not fully willing to let the matter just drop. If he had to ghost-emancipate himself, he’d rather be ready sooner than later.

Danny grinned toothily at him.

“Usually. We’ll see if she’s around, but it might have to be another day. Gotta deal with our other list first, like if our whole halfa deal is gonna do anything to the knight thing, or your core coming in,” he added, looking expectantly at Frostbite.

Jason almost missed what he said next as his heart skipped a beat, a possibility he’d never even considered slamming home.

She.

Someone dead, if they were in the Ghost Zone.

Someone who’d claimed him as her son long ago, guided him as best she could. Someone he’d never expected to see again, not even having died and returned to life himself.

No chance, he told himself quickly, hurriedly refocusing on the conversation at hand. About his bond with Danny, about their shared fucked biology, about his whole undead future.

There was no point dredging up the past until he actually knew.

Frostbite was back in his familiar role of teacher, that same proud/warm/fond smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked at Danny.

“For your bond, Great One, I am not sure what I would even test for. The young knight presently has no ghost form, yet the bond is present exactly as if he had. I am afraid we have no records of former halfas, so any problems which occurred before are long lost.”

The yeti gave the tablet another few careful claw strokes, pulling up lines and lines of scrolling numbers and data beside each of their silhouettes on the wall screen. Forcing himself to the present, Jason scanned them quickly.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t actually make heads or tails of it; ghost vitals couldn’t really include things like heartbeat, blood oxygenation, or anything they’d test for in the med bay.

Not until Bruce found out about all this crap anyway - Jason wouldn’t put it past him to try and buy out everything the Far Frozen had in his latest snit of paranoia. The second he got over his “oh no Jason is going somewhere I can’t supervise him”, obviously.

Frostbite clearly knew what it all meant though, highlighting a couple of different areas where Danny’s numbers were very different from Jason’s and giving him that reassuring smile.

“After your first transformation I would expect some of these to change, and it is likely that any differences in your particular bond would show then as well. Your ghost form will of course be entirely ectoplasmic, so the bond will be more present than it is even now.”

That snapped Jason from his internal flailing, and he grimaced at the reminder.

Because… yeah. They’d talked a lot about his first transformation, he and Danny. But the only thing Danny hadn’t really known was when to expect it.

“Yeah… about that. I know the basics, inversion of my moment of death crap, I’ll be able to change it eventually, yadda yadda,” and that was its own sword of Damacles hanging with the mistletoe, “but… when will it happen? Like, will it just… happen? Or will I… yeah.”

Even wording the question made him feel like the whole thing was just too complicated. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask; what to look for? Would there be symptoms? Would he just un-die again in the street?

Luckily Frostbite seemed much more comfortable, hitting a few buttons on his tablet. Jason’s scan took over the full screen once more, zoomed in on the two orbs in his chest.

They were pulsing too, growing brighter and dimmer along with the more defined throb of the ectoplasm. Which was actually when he noticed that both cores were throbbing, so… was Pitty also a knight?

That was going on the list of questions for Clockwork like, yesterday. If he could get it its own little fear gun…

“As you can see, your core is still fuzzy around the edges and incompletely formed; once these edges have smoothed out, you will hypothetically be able to transform at any time,” Frostbite explained, blissfully aware of Jason’s new train of thought.

Probably for the best. Jason reluctantly refocused on the screen, tabling the idea of Sir Pitty for now. Nice to have something actually positive to look forward to.

He didn’t really remember seeing much of the screen during his last appointment, but he had seen the perfect sphere of Danny’s core, and his looked… well, like Frostbite said, smaller and kinda fuzzy. Like a ball of dough after it started sticking to your hands and losing its shape.

He frowned and nodded, looking back to Frostbite and then glancing around at Danny.

“So not until the next appointment, probably? Will it just… happen out of nowhere? Or will I need to trigger it?” It kinda helped, narrowing the scope. Dealing with it one step at a time.

Danny gave a helpless shrug.

“My powers started activating randomly, but I didn’t actually transform until I was in danger. Not like, life threatening danger,” he added with a roll of his eyes, like he’d heard Pitty’s growl… or maybe Jason had echoed it. “It was just Lunch Lady, she was never gonna really hurt us. She just made a mess and tried to feed everyone meat.”

Jason privately added Lunch Lady to his “asses to kick” list. On principle.

Frostbite gave a thoughtful nod, a large hand clapping down on Jason’s shoulder a lot harder than he’d probably intended. He didn’t flinch, but before his pit-growth-spurt it might have knocked him over.

“We can experiment more once your core is complete here in the Zone, and I would recommend waiting until Pitty has been expelled, if possible. Of course, any other changes in your knighthood bond will likely make themselves known with your first change as well,” the yeti mused, quite pleased with the idea.

Jason hesitated before agreeing, worry twisting through him again before he tamped it back down.

He wasn’t that scared little boy anymore; not inside. Besides, the bond was already firmly in place.

His soul was resonating a pace behind Danny’s.

It wasn’t like that little trip back to the moment of his death was gonna make Danny suddenly reject him.

The poor guy was probably stuck with Jason for life anyway at this point, which for a pair of halfas meant pretty much forever.

There was not a single thing on Earth or the Watchtower that he wanted less than to stop and talk to John Fucking Constantine and Diana after the meeting.

To be completely fair, Constantine clearly didn’t want to have that conversation any more either; Bruce had not been wrong about how well the magician would take the news that the United States had declared war on an entire dimension.

He was visibly green, had actually ground an unlit cigarette into a grainy mess against the table in lieu of lighting up, and looked about ready to lick up the tobacco.

Diana did not look happy either, but she never had. Her face was as stony and grave as Bruce had ever seen it, concern writ large even as she caught his eye.

The sure knowledge that her lasso would follow if he tried to leave was the only thing that kept him from ignoring her.

But since the only thing he wanted in the world at this moment was to have his son in his arms, and there was no chance of that happening until they were in the same dimension once more…

Bruce shot a quick, questioning look at Clark as the traitor made his way to the exit along with the rest of the Justice League. The Kryptonian at least had the grace to look a little guilty as he shook his head, stepping quickly out the door.

Wonder Woman hadn’t specifically told everyone else to get the fuck out. She had simply molded herself into an immovable force, concluded the meeting, and instructed Bruce alone to remain and discuss these… complications.

Bruce considered making an argument for Superman’s inclusion. They were the original three, and they’d probably need at least his and Aquaman’s help to handle the diplomatic situation.

Possibly the Oa, and Bruce was quite sure Green Lantern wasn’t looking forward to that possibility any more than he was. Hal Jordan talked a good game, always far too flippant, but he’d been pale enough by the end of the lecture that his suit made him look frankly unwell.

Unpleasant times would be in all of their futures it seemed. It was no real comfort as he slipped into a seat across from Wonder Woman and the slumped form of John Constantine.

The magician didn’t even look up, but clearly noticed.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think anyone’d fuck this up worse’n you, Bats,” he groaned, face still pressed into the table.

Bruce grunted, uninterested in his judgement.

“There are new complications we should focus on.” A vain hope, and one Diana instantly crushed.

“One that makes the contents of our discussion all the more vital,” she corrected sharply, piercing blue eyes narrowed as she watched his face. “It seems we have already caused unintentional offence.”

Which was an extremely light way to phrase the declared genocide, but Bruce didn’t bother arguing that position. Not when Constantine would do it for him.

But the mage just let out a long, hearty groan.

“Offence. Yeah. Maybe if we saw off the United States and toss it through a portal the rest of us will be fine,” he snarked, raising his head just enough to bang it off the table. Repeatedly.

By the third bang Diana gripped the back of his head, holding him in place against the table.

“Whatever the situation,” she growled, her tone daring either of them to comment, “we must deal with it as it is. You believe we would have noticed any countermeasures from the former Ghost King?”

She released her grip a moment later, and Constantine rolled his head just enough to glare at her through one eye.

“Pariah Dark? Sister, it wouldn’ta been a single town bein’ pulled off the map. We’d have lost the continent, and probably the world. You wouldn’t miss it,” he added with a bitter laugh, clearly considering banging his head off the table again.

Diana placed a hand on the table. Constantine set his head back down gently.

“And the new king?” She prodded, all icy control.

Bruce had to admit, even he felt calmer watching her.

He knew all the follies and foibles of gods, had no delusions about the limits of her power. He also knew her strengths. Her wisdom. Her ability to cut through complex issues with sword or words.

Whatever he missed, she was removed enough from this mess to catch.

Constantine shrugged, still not rising.

“No fuckin’ clue. All I know is they’re better’n Pariah, which is the lowest damn bar I ever saw. They call them Balance, and we’re not gonna fuckin’ like when the scales come due.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. What could be a sufficient counterweight for demanding a whole people be hunted and experimented on until extinction?

The dead always vastly outnumbered the living.

Diana cut across his thoughts, her tone as sharp as her blade.

“So you believe we’d notice.”

Constantine sighed heavily and flopped back in his seat hard enough that he nearly toppled over. Diana steadied the chair with one hand, eyebrow rising archly.

Constantine stopped flailing, went to fold his arms, and instead stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Probably’d be pretty hard to miss too,” he agreed gruffly. Diana nodded, having received the answer she wanted, and interlaced her fingers.

“Then we have time to rectify matters before word reaches his ears.” She paused, brow furrowing as she recounted John’s words. “Do we not know if the King is a man?”

Constantine shrugged again, pulling something unidentifiable from his pocket before hastily shoving it back in, coming out again with a lighter. He spun it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the metal lid.

“Nah. “King” is just a loose translation to living tongues, for what yer used to. Easier to say than “Supreme High Ruler, Core of the Realms”. Not even likely that they were ever human; not even the Ancients could take Pariah solo to take the crown, so a human ghost wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Huffing out a mighty breath, Constantine looked from the lighter to Bruce, his gaze somehow immeasurably more tired. Bruce had imagined that talking about Amity Park made the man look ancient.

He looked haggard enough to be an ancient ghost himself now.

Raising his other hand, he began counting off points on his fingers.

“We know they’re young. Everything agrees on that. Could be any time in the past few centuries, but it’s still a timeline. We know they’re tougher’n Hell and all its demons put together, cuz they put Pariah down single handed. Had to to get the throne. Might not have Ended him, the Casket of Eternal Slumber’s not turned up looking for a new occupant.”

The magician stared at his two fingers for a moment, then sighed and raised a third.

“And we know ghosts like them. They’re less scared, though most of ‘em never knew shit about Pariah. Didn’t even react to him waking, which had to happen for the change in power. That or it all went down too fast for the shockwaves to reach us here; not bloody likely. Wouldn’t take more than a day, and ghosts fight for decades on a whim.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering that last finger. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“Can’t rule it out though. Pariah waking up’d be as much an emergency for them as it’d be for us, putting his ass back down is an all hands on deck situation on either side of the veil. If this new king is Balance, Pariah’d be their opposite,” he finished gruffly, glaring at all three digits before stuffing both hands into his pockets.

Bruce nodded, drawing a deep, calming breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. Even this much discussion had something itching in the back of his mind, a building tension that he had to Get Away.

He was in control of it though. Could tell the difference between his own unease and the burning ember of the oath.

Turn and run right away his ass. Magic could never hold out against cool, calm logic.

“And this new king, Balance, has stamped a damn mark on Jason.”

And his breath hitched.

Sharp, white hot panic flared behind his eyes, every muscle clenching with the effort of not leaping straight from the table. The only reason he didn’t was because he had no idea where to go.

What would he even do? Run to Jason’s side? The boy was in another dimension, far beyond Bruce’s reach.

Again.

He was losing Jason again. Losing him to this Ghost King, this Balance, this-

Diana’s hand clamped firmly over his, the amazon’s grip immovable steel. Bruce felt his bones grinding together before he even noticed he’d stopped breathing, before he managed to look up enough to meet her eyes.

Stern, determined, brilliant blue locked with his. Her grip tightened a little further, the ribbing on his gloves creaking with the pressure.

She wouldn’t break them… probably. They were designed to hold up against any of the supers the League dealt with. Prolonged contact was another thing entirely though.

His attention now locked on her face, Bruce managed a deep breath in along with her. Held it when she did. Let it out.

She didn’t release him for another few repetitions, until he was breathing mostly on his own again. Then she returned her attention to Constantine.

“What.” It wasn’t aggressive. Just a completely flat, completely toneless statement.

Constantine gave her an entirely hopeless smile, pulling his hands from his pockets to give her jazz hands.

“And that’s what he’s not ready to hear yet. Your boy, Jason, Red Hood, has gotten himself personally warded by the Ghost King. He’s the next thing to invulnerable right now,” he added bitterly, as if that made any of it better.

An icy hand clenched in Bruce’s chest again, but he forced himself to still. To breathe through it. To not turn and run, run until he found his child and tore him away from whatever influence had him.

The Ghost King had a hold of Jason. Jason who’d all but ordered Bruce to let him go.

“And Jason must have been in direct contact with the King to receive these wards?” Diana asked sharply, and Bruce’s head snapped back to her.

It was a good question. Important, obvious, there was a connection there that he should be making, but he couldn’t think. His head was spinning, heart pounding, and every shadow seemed black as pitch.

Constantine grunted an agreement, shooting Bruce an almost sympathetic look.

Could. Could this be the oath? Not his own instinctive, natural panic?

Bruce couldn’t tell, he’d been so afraid for so long, ever since he held Jason’s broken body in his arms. Ever since he buried his son.

It felt the same. But he had mastered that fear long ago, so this would not control him now. He had to be better.

Frowning at Diana, he leaned forward.

“Explain.” She’d probably assumed that he’d made the same connection. He probably should have.

There was just a brief flash of surprise on her face before her expression softened, her hand gentling over his.

“Jason was the one who told you of these Anti Ecto Acts, was he not?” She asked pointedly, a dark brow arching delicately.

Bruce about managed a grunt of agreement, his jaw clenched too tightly to speak. She waited a moment longer, watching his face, and then sighed.

“Then is it not likely that either he has told Balance of these Acts, or that Balance was the one that told him?”

Constantine jerked and got halfway through a bellowed curse before she cut him off with a glare. Her tone brooked no argument as she continued with a firm, frosted patience.

“Jason is a principled young man, even if not of the exact principles you prefer. Either he has warned you because he believes we have time to fix this, or because the King would prefer we handle it,” she said bluntly.

It sounded so simple, put like that. Far too simple. Bruce shook his head, leaning in.

“We can’t know for sure-”

“Batman.” There was nothing harsh in her tone. Nothing so overtly aggressive as the glare she kept giving Constantine. Just a calm, cool statement that sucked the air from his lungs.

The weight of her own mantle, the Amazon princess who would one day be Queen. Not his friend Diana; Wonder Woman.

Once she was sure he wouldn’t continue, she fixed him with a sapphire stare.

“Do you believe Jason Todd would condone the end of the world?” She asked simply, and that at least was that plain.

“No.” It didn’t even require thought; whatever he feared ever since his son took his first life, Bruce knew that.

Jason was fundamentally a good boy. So kind, so giving, ironically he had been the most well adjusted boy Bruce had ever given the mantle to.

Which was what made what he’d become so painful. It was everything he never should have been.

Wonder Woman nodded as if that solved all the rest.

“And yet you called the meeting, not him. He has known for several days already and did nothing to alert any of us. Therefore, he does not believe this is an urgent threat.”

It sounded good, and Bruce almost believed it before Constantine snorted.

“Yeah, great, except the kid has no fuckin’ clue what he’s dealing with. Didn’t even know he’d been fuckin’ marked or that sellin’ his fuckin’ service was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he coulda done,” he grumbled and Bruce’s heart fell.

Wonder Woman was not so easily swayed. She raised an eyebrow slowly at the magician.

“And could those protective marks have been placed on Jason against his will?” She asked pointedly, like she knew the first thing about magic.

Constantine hesitated. Frowned a little, thinking hard. Finally he threw both hands in the air and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing them down his face.

“Technically, yes, alright? But I can’t think of a damn reason why they’d bother. Like I told the old Bat, it’s technically a good thing; I couldn’t even get a basic diagnostic spell off, he’s completely fuckin’ magic proof an’ anythin’ that can read that ward will run like fuck.”

Something in Bruce’s chest flickered hopefully. Wonder Woman nodded firmly, then redirected her stare to him.

“Then until we have reason not to, we assume that Jason Todd has control of this situation. He has assigned us to deal with these Acts, either before his king discovers them or on their behalf. You, Batman, will defer to his experience along with that of our experts,” she declared with all the ringing command she was capable of.

It chafed. And yet… he could hear the echo of Harley’s words in her voice.

What if Jason was wrong? It was the kind of thing he always thought about, the kind of thing he couldn’t stop thinking about. The kind of thing that had the Batman able to stand and go toe to toe with gods.

But what if Jason was right? What if Harley, Diana, Constantine were right, and his usual measures would spell disaster?

He had a dozen contingency plans that any member of the League could use to take him down. He was painfully aware that the first one, the one he’d already shown to Superman and Wonder Woman, only had two words in it.

Diana’s Judgement.

She hadn’t technically invoked it yet. Had never bothered asking exactly what he meant by it; she wasn’t one to back down from hard subjects, which meant she’d also never bothered hiding how little she thought of his contingency plans.

His League-specific ones, anyway. She liked the ones he had for the rogues and various end of the world crises.

It meant moments like this, where she would give him her honest, simple judgement and reign him in.

(Technically it also meant that he trusted her to decide when she needed to snap his neck, but Martian Manhunter always looked at him with disappointment when he thought about that side too much.)

Looking back to her face, he managed to meet her eyes and nod once. It went against every instinct he had, every year of experience and loss, but…

If he couldn’t do things he didn’t like, he’d never have become Batman.

Head spinning with a plethora of new information, bag of ecto candies in hand, Jason deliberately slowed down to let Danny precede him out of Frostbite’s office.

That little suspicion had been growing, kindling the more they discussed halfa anatomy and bonds, and honestly? Yes, he had been using it as an excuse to think about something other than his own problems.

Danny seemed not to notice, disappearing past the doorway as Jason looked up at Frostbite. Figured fuck it; he didn’t know how much time he had. Best be blunt.

“You’re Danny’s ghost parent, aren’t you?” He asked, knowing from the yeti’s face as he did that he was right.

The way it froze for just a moment, eyes flicking to the door Danny had just left through. Then the smile that spread, knowing and secretive as he bent down for the first time to put his face on Jason’s level.

“He takes such pleasure in believing he does not have one; the Great One values his independence highly, and his history with parental figures is… complex. It can be our secret, yes?” The yeti winked.

Jason hesitated for a moment, thinking back to all he knew about Danny’s home life. It wasn’t actually all that much; Danny probably actually knew more about Jason’s, after the last week.

That wasn’t just a rarity, it was practically unheard of for any of the former Robins, and Jason knew exactly how Dick and Harley would react to that information.

They’d accuse him of growth. Gross. They couldn’t be told.

And yeah, maybe Jason had a bit of a personal understanding of why Danny wouldn’t want an overabundance of parental figures around. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, not really, but Jason knew enough verses of the song.

All teen heroes tended to have certain things in common, the biggest of which was whatever parental figure they had failing to protect them. Failing to keep them from the darkness, forcing a kid to take on a mantle and burdens that they never should have.

He’d wanted to pound Bruce’s bones to pulp for putting another kid in his cape. Wound up nearly pounding Tim’s instead, however the pit and Tallia had twisted things to make that seem like the same thing.

And Danny hadn’t just picked up the mantle of Teen Hero. He’d picked up a crown, a whole realm of responsibilities and rulership over the dead.

Personally, Jason thought Danny was missing out on an easy dodge of king duties by not finding his ghost parent; Clockwork was his regent but still apparently bothered him for work.

A parent ruling until the child was of age was behind most of the most brutal regicides in any monarchic system; the dead had to know about it.

But that’d mean Clockwork bothering Frostbite at all hours, possibly. Or Clockwork finding new excuses to keep checking on a crown prince Jason had already seen was a handful.

Yeah, he could see why no one really challenged Danny’s assertion that he didn’t have a ghost parent.

Jason spared a moment wondering about his own again.

He knew better than to hope, he really did. Catherine Todd deserved much better than an afterlife of watching over his many mistakes. If there was any justice to death, she’d moved straight past the realms and into the most perfect of paradises.

He liked to think she’d be proud of him. Of the work he’d done, the good he’d spread through the Alley even if it was on the end of a gun.

So long as it wasn’t any form of al Ghul whatsoever, Jason was pretty sure he could handle any other ghost parent the multiverse could throw at him.

Danny’s head poked back around the corner, grinning in a very worried way between the two of them.

“Everything okay back here?” He asked with some of the worst overhyped cheer Jason had ever heard.

Alright, maybe Danny would actually also have been a problem for ghost parent. Because Jason thought he was hot. Because he was an awful mother hen even as a friend.

Jason raised his bag of ecto candies.

“Just checking how many of these I can safely have in a day,” he said innocently, and kinda hoped Danny didn’t actually feel the wash of Frostbite’s approval as the yeti straightened.

That would give the game away.

“They are not a substitute for sleep or nutrition for your human form,” Frostbite told him, as if that was what they’d been talking about.

Jason sighed heavily, doing his best impression of Tim being handed decaf.

“Listen, a guy can hope?”

“Oh you’re not gonna win that one,” Danny snickered, brightening with the distraction and all but skipping in to take Jason’s arm, “let’s scram before he gets the powerpoints.”

Frostbite gave them a cheerful wave on the way out the door, and Jason managed a mostly sincere smile as Danny began regaling him on some of his teenaged attempts to persuade Frostbite to let him give up sleep for finals week.

Yeah, he might add the Fenton parents to the butt-kicking list. Below the ghosts, obviously, for whom butt-kicking was a social courtesy.

But, y’know. If he ever got the chance to have a quiet word about taking care of your damn kids.

———————

And here we have Part 1! Imma just yeet it up so you can all get started while I edit Part 2, because again, this is a Girthy One without an easier breakpoint 👀

I’ll still try and get Part 2 done tonight, but I’ve kept y’all waiting long enough

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Part Two:

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