#i was gonna throw in some damian angst but this is supposed to be a crack au

[oocdc-tweets]

its an assortment

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[ethelphantom]

How to Become a Part of Your Target's Family as Told by Damian al Ghul (or should he say, Damian Dupain-Cheng)

You should be happy and very thankful. I would have given you angst, but then I came up with this and instead you're getting humour with little to no angst.

Ao3

This is Maribat -- Don’t like; Don’t read

___________________________

It was supposed to be easy.

He’d had her in his sights, she wasn’t moving at all, there were no obstacles between them, and she was just a girl. He knew how to aim a moving target even when he was moving as well, this should’ve been easier than ‘snatching candy from a baby’. He was rather certain that was the expression anyway.

But then…

Then why…

Why was she able to sneak up on him, now in front of him, and completely unharmed?

The girl — Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the Ladybug, he’d been told — was standing in front of her, looking like she was just disappointed. For some reason, the chance that was the case stung. She had his crossbow in her hands, as well as the arrow he had shot at her which she snapped in half, and with a sigh, she crossed her hands over her chest.

“Are they serious? A child? Do they really think I’m that easy to get rid of?” she asked, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. “Go home, kid, and please tell Ra’s that just because I said no to his offers doesn’t mean I should be underestimated. If he’s heard about all of his missions around here having gone wrong, he should have already realised it was me and that a kid isn’t going to be what takes me down.”

“I— what? What are you talking about?”

“Oh my god, I was just joking about the kid part, you’re just so short, but you’re actually a child? What are you, ten? Goodness, he’s getting even worse at this.”

Damian, for a moment forgetting all his training and the fact this girl was holding his weapon and that she could see him and was far too close to him for comfort, just stared at her. She was young as well, a little bit shorter than him, and dressed in a red skirt and satin shirt and there was no good reasoning or logic behind how she somehow had managed to approach him without him noticing.

The girl looked at him up and down as though she were sizing him up. Which, now that he thought about it, was most likely the case. “Well, aren’t you gonna try again? Why are you just standing there like an idiot? Surely Ra’s had you trained better.”

The words hit him a little too late, and his eyes just widened. Did this girl actually ask him if he was going to attempt assassinating her again? Just who was she? Was she to be killed because she had refused the league, had she said she was not going to join them? Or was it because she’d been ruining Grandfather’s missions? Was she even telling him the truth?

Still looking at him, she cocked her hips and tilted her head. “Kid, please. You’re the only one in a long time that has made even a mediocre attempt on my life, it’s offensive if you don’t try again. Not trying again would be rude. And you wouldn’t want to offend your target when you’ve also managed to fail at killing them? Like, please choose to either succeed and offend me or fail and at least try once more,” she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. Then she booped his nose. Which, excuse her? Who did this girl think she was? He was Damian of the House of al Ghul, the heir of Ra’s al Ghul and his League of Assassins, and he was not to be disrespected like this, by his target nonetheless.

This was so confusing. “You actually want me to kill you?” slipped from his lips.

The girl shrugged. “I mean, not really, I don’t think I would enjoy dying, but I do want you to try again. If you manage to kill me while you’re at it, that’s fine with me. It’s not like I didn’t ask you to do it.” The girl flipped her hair from her front to her back, pushing it away from her eyes. “Besides, I’m bored. You, kid, are the most interesting thing that has happened to me in weeks.”

Then she flipped out her yoyo — a yoyo? What even… — and made a ‘come here’ gesture with her hand. The crossbow she abandoned on the side, though not without taking it apart first.

Damian huffed out of irritation and unsheathed his sword, brows still furrowed because he was confused and rather offended for getting sassed by his own target for missing. It was humiliating.

He didn’t think enough much, and instead just went for her. That was… definitely a mistake on his part as she simply stepped aside, giggling. Giggling. That had him realise this was not a fight to be won without plans and she was not an opponent to be defeated all that easily, so he jumped and grabbed a tree branch above him, bringing himself to the safety of the shadows of the leaves. The shadows were familiar, they were home — they were the best place to hide.

He knew them and they knew him, and he could use that.

The girl was left yawning on the ground, and her eyes seemed to search where exactly he went. While she was doing that, he studied her and her movements, trying to find a weak spot. There was a limp in her walk, clearly. Maybe she’d injured her knee while they were at it because she hadn’t had that a moment ago?

Well, he had not been trained to fight fairly, he’d been trained to fight to win. He could also use her injury to his advantage.

So that was what he did.

As soon as he moved though, there appeared a slight smirk on her face and she turned to look at him, her eyes locking with his even though she wasn’t supposed to be able to see him. It was disturbing. After all, he had tried to hide from her.

Regardless, he dropped down from the tree right at her, almost managing to pin her under him. The problem was, she threw him off of her, and that was lost.

That continued for a while. He attacked, she dodged. Every single time. She didn’t even try to attack him, which on its own was insulting as well. Did she think he was too young to be attacked? That he couldn’t handle it? He was eleven already. He wasn’t that young anymore. Surely Grandfather and Mother had known how well trained this girl was and decided that Damian was the best suited to take her down.

Aside from dodging and the occasional remark (“Is that the best you got?”, “In order to kill me, you must first be able to actually get the sword to touch me, but nice try”, “Rule number one of assassinating: don’t let the target find you, and especially don’t let them start a game — chances are, they’re better than you and you haven’t got even a chance at winning”, “It’s okay, don’t worry about not succeeding, worry about why I’m winning”, “Actually, you know what, if you’re indeed Ra’s’, maybe you should worry about not succeeding”), the girl did nothing. It was infuriating, and at this point, Damian wanted to slap her before actually killing her.

It took him until the latest remark to actually snap, though.

“Please tell me Ra’s didn’t think he was sending his best because this? This is not the best,” she sighed at some point and shook her head, jumping to the side, away from his blade.

“Silence yourself!” he snapped, clutching at the handle of his sword desperately. His voice wavered a little. “I am one of the best Grandfather has! Mother made sure of it!”

That had the girl stop. She threw her yoyo at his sword and snatched it from him before throwing it away and placing her yoyo back at her hip where it seemed to belong. Then she approached him cautiously, her hands open in front of her so he could see she had no weapon in her hands. When she got close enough, she placed her hands on his shoulders and looked at him with a serious expression, brows furrowed and mouth a thin line.

“Your grandfather? You are the perfect vessel and weapon Ra’s mentioned in passing? You must still be like, ten.”

“I’m eleven!”

“You just proved my point, kid, and that doesn’t make it any better. Okay, yeah, the game’s off, I’m coming with you to the league. Nope, you don’t have a say in that.”

“You’re what?”

“Coming with you to the league. You’re too young for this, and I’m gonna make sure nothing happens to you for failing to kill me. It’s not like you’re gonna succeed anyway, and neither is your grandfather — or mother — if I have any say in it. They’re not the only people in this world with training too excellent. Especially not when one’s been trained by a lot of people, including someone from the league. Besides, if I willingly come there with a changed mind, I doubt Ra’s would kill me until he found out why. So. Let’s go.”

Still, not completely sure about what was happening, Damian let himself be dragged along towards his transportation, and he couldn’t understand how she knew where it was until she showed the little tracker she’d taken from his pocket. This day was proving out to be the most embarrassing and humiliating he had ever had the dishonour to face.

When they got back to where Mother and Grandfather were waiting for him, even they couldn’t hide their surprise at the girl that had forced herself to come along, completely unharmed (had she faked the limp earlier?), smiling. Damian was sure the smile wasn’t happy or gentle though — he’d seen it before so many times, and it reminded him more of Mother’s smiles when she saw someone she loathed or someone she was furious at. It was sharp and dripping with something that could only be called wrath and superiority. Like she somehow had power over Mother and Grandfather.

Judging by how Mother sighed and told Grandfather she was leaving him to deal with this, and how Grandfather just told her that yes, sure, she can stay if she does what the league tells her to do like his offer months ago had been, there was a chance she actually did have power over them. Some, at the very least.

It was confusing.

Years later, the girl — he’d eventually taken to mostly calling her by Ladybug or Akhtaa (my sister) — who had proclaimed herself Damian’s big sister but said that if Ra’s somehow got the idea of making her an heiress or something because she was older, she was going to ruin any and all plans Ra’s had, and then gift that right straight back to Damian as long as it didn’t bring him any harm, and who had become one of the best assassins the league had ever had, told him to stay quiet as she took him to a plane she’d insisted on learning how to fly a year back. He could now see why she had wanted to learn. It was smart of her not to try anything until now. At some point, she stopped, took out a paper and a pen from her pocket, scribbled something on it and slammed it on the wall closest to her. It seemed to be a post-it note as it stuck.

When he questioned her actions, she replied with “They’re abusing you, and you’re still a child, which also means, you still have a chance at a better life and I’m going to make sure you get it before they fucking destroy any chance at the life you might’ve been able to get” before the plane took off.

They ended up in Paris, of all places. If Ladybug was planning on having them hide somewhere, the capital city of France wasn’t probably the best of places. At least she’d left the plane in another country.

The bakery, instead, might have been. It was small, even if popular judging by the number of people waiting in line, but Ladybug — maybe Akhtaa when they were near civilians who certainly didn’t know of her other life — just cut in line (apologising, of course, she was always so very polite to most people despite usually also being superior to them on all fronts), and told them she needed to see the bakers, and no, she was not going to buy anything, she’s not cutting in line that way. It was unlikely Grandfather or Mother would look into a bakery, of all places.

“Maman! I’m back,” she yelled when she got inside, dragged Damian to what looked like a living room and seated him on the sofa. In full assassin regalia. Accompanied by what was at least three different weapons, few kinds of knives and daggers and a sword. How was she going to explain this to anyone, let alone her… mother?

A woman came in, wiping her hands on her trousers. She did indeed look like Ladybug did — and yeah, he should maybe learn to call her Marinette now, shouldn’t he? Unless she was still content with him calling her Akhtaa because that was more comfortable to him —, just older. She also looked way too much like the infamous Nocturne in the league. She couldn’t, right— “Ah, it’s good to see you, baby. My, you’ve grown. Ra’s didn’t treat you badly, now did he? I don’t need to go kick his ass?” the short woman with a pixie cut asked Marinette, pulling her into a hug. Marinette hugged her back and smiled before untangling herself from the embrace and leading her to Damian.

“Maman, this is Damian. I saved him and he’s now my little brother, which, actually, I should probably inform Papa of. Also, I’m not sure he actually listened to me when I taught him how to bake, so that might be in order.”

The woman looked at him up and down, as though she were sizing him up, and didn’t being looked at like that feel just a bit too familiar? At least now he knew where Marinette — no, she’d called him her little brother in front of her mother, Akhtaa was probably still alright — had gotten her ability to do so from.

“You look a lot like Talia. And maybe a bit like— Baby, please tell me this isn’t who I think it is.”

“It’s exactly who you think it is, Maman. Talia’s only son, Ra’s heir and the perfect vessel, but also the son of the Detective Ra’s originally was so obsessed with years ago. I would’ve taken him to his Father but that’s no less safe than staying with the league since he’s an emotionally constipated idiot who fights crime dressed as a Bat instead of getting therapy and would have taken him along, so I took him here. I thought we could keep him until I trust he’s either old enough to actually say no to his father if the need be or at least old enough for the fighting part not to be that bad. It’s not like I could’ve left him now. Oh, and you remember how I left for the league for a few years?”

“Yes, how could I forget?”

“Well, it’s because this kid was only eleven at the time, was told to assassinate me, failed, and you know how Ra’s would have taken that. So.”

A beat. Then a groan, which then turned into a growl.

“I am going to kill Ra’s.”

The exchange between Akhtaa and her mother was, the least to say, strange. They were talking about the league like both knew it like the backs of their hands, and there was a chance they did.

The woman Akhtaa called her mother was the Nocturne, wasn’t she.

It would explain why Akhtaa had said she’d been trained by a League soldier years and years ago. Why she knew exactly how he would move. Why she knew how to handle Grandfather and Mother because there was only a handful of League soldiers who could leave the League and stay alive — she must have learnt it from Nocturne.

Nocturne turned her eyes to Damian and smiled. It was sharp, but not in the same way as Akhtaa’s had been when she’d smiled at his Mother and Grandfather a long time ago. This smile was also soft, like she wanted to make sure Damian knew he was safe here with them.

“Hello, Damian. I’m Sabine, Marinette’s mother, though you might know me better as Nocturne since you’re from the League. And, as she claims you to be her new little brother, I suppose I’m your new mother as well. You can call me Sabine or any version of ‘mother’, whichever you prefer. House rules are as stands: No smoking, no drugs, no underage drinking, no weapons at the dinner table, at least one meal with the family a day is a must unless the rest of the family has been informed of absence at least three hours before, and absolutely no killing within the city bounds. Also, no scaring away the customers.”

Damian just found himself nodding as Sabine continued speaking.

“Marinette can show you to your new room. If you need anything, just tell me or Marinette. Dinner is at 8 pm sharp. Being late is not an option today. You can choose between getting homeschooled and an actual school, but we’ll discuss that later. Have fun, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

And that was how Damian found himself inserted into the Dupain-Cheng family. How he’d gotten here from trying to kill their only daughter, he wasn’t too sure, but honestly? He wasn’t complaining.

Five years later, Akhtaa took him to Gotham and introduced him to his Father and adopted siblings (which, how in the world had Father adopted so many kids? There was at least Cassandra and Jason whom he’d met at some point in the league, Richard, the first of his children and on par with Akhtaa when it came to hugging people, Timothy, the second youngest of the children, and Duke, who was only a few years older than Damian.) They were confused but welcomed him after they’d confirmed he was indeed Father’s blood son, and Damian was relieved about it. He’d come to appreciate found family with the Dupain-Chengs and Akhtaa over the years, so it wasn’t too hard to adapt into this family either — though that was probably because Akhtaa and he had insisted on having her as a family as well. After all, she was more of a big sibling to him than any of the others together.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know how meeting them would have gone if Mother and Grandfather were the ones to send him to his Father, especially if that had happened when he was still younger.

Good thing he didn’t need to know.

He would never need to know.

____________________

Basically, Marinette is hurt and offended because the only one who has made a proper attempt on her life is a child, and Damian is confused and offended that his target is sassing him for missing. You were supposed to get someone actually, physically hurt and instead you're getting this. Be happy.

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip

[peppersonironi]

Batfam Whumptober Day Five

{Read on Ao3}

No.5: On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

Summary: Damian is sent to rescue Red Robin from a sting-gone-wrong, but finds Tim more than a little roughed up. Damian panics at the sight of his heavily wounded brother, and strains to keep him alive long enough for help to arrive.

A/N: I think this might be my favorite work this month! It took way longer than expected, and I'm sorry for that, but I hope it's worth it. It actually has angst this time!

Tw: Light blood and injury (not graphic) and some torture (not graphic I think?)

Damian blinked down seriously at the Gotham warehouse. It was highly guarded, with twenty-seven security cameras in, on, and around the premises. There were also over a dozen guards with heavy machine guns patrolling the perimeter. Whatever they were protecting was important. Unfortunately, Damian knew what it was.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Drake?” He muttered to himself.

The assignment that Red Robin had taken upon himself for the week was supposed to be simple: an out of town drug trafficking ring. The criminals were newcomers, so they’d be easy to take care of. In theory.

Instead, the cave had received a distress call from Tim twenty minutes ago. Batman was off-world with the League, Grayson was in Bludhaven, Cain was in Hong Kong, Todd was off doing whatever the h*** he did with the outlaws. The only ones on patrol that night besides Drake and Damian was Brown and Aunt Kate. But they were handling a robbery in progress across the city.

And so, Robin being the only vigilante in the near vicinity, Damian found himself causing the origin of Red Robin’s signal.

He was not having fun.

But Damian was determined to save his idiot of a brother by himself. Otherwise Thomas would have to be awakened from his ‘normal’ sleep schedule and sent out. Damian didn’t need help.

“Robin, how’s it looking?”

Damian startled at the sound of Gordon in his ear. “Fine, Oracle. The adversaries are heavily armed and have high security for foreigners, but nothing I am unable to handle.”

“Alright, Robin,” she answered cautiously, “but alert me immediately if that changes. The Signal can be up and out at a moment's notice.”

Damian scoffed as he pulled out his grappling hook and made his way to the roof of the warehouse. “Signal is not needed. And I hardly think he’d appreciate being awoken.”

“He’s well aware that he’s on standby for emergencies,” Oracle replied, “especially when Bats is out of town.”

Damian grunted as he took out a few guards standing by the entrance to the roof. “Can’t talk,” he replied, “I’m going in.”

*****

Damian crept around the warehouse silently, starting with the upstairs offices. He found countless damaging contracts, and paper files. Pictures, and evidence. He recorded it all and sent it to Oracle, but there was still no sign of Red Robin.

That is, until he reached the stairs leading down to the main warehouse.

When Damian reached the door at the bottom of the stairs, he paused. There was something off, but he couldn’t quite place it. He strained his ears, searching for some out of place sound. He found it.

A moment later, a scream cut through the air, causing the boy to stiffen. He knew that Scream.

Drake.

He slowly eased the door open, heart pounding, Damian slunk in the shadows, approaching the source of the moans, grunts, and sounds of pain. He made his way atop the ctreates, and flew up into the rafters. Then ran along the beam towards the center of the building.

What Damian saw next rooted him in his place.

“I’ll ask you one more time, brat!” Bronte Jones, the Boston drug king in charge of the Gotham branch, yelled straight at Drake.

Oh, Drake.

Damian gagged at the state of his brother. Timothy Drake was tied down to a metal chair, his cape ripped off and tossed to the side. The rest of his uniform was in equal disorder, ripped, burned, and bloody. The exposed parts of his skin were bruised, cut, or in some other way harmed.His mask was mostly left alone, probably due to the anti-tampering measures built into every mask and cowl.

Tim coughed, and spit blood to the side. “Nope.”

Bronte growled, before launching forward and punching Red Robin in the jaw. Hard. So hard that the chair rocked backwards, and one of the goons needed to hold it steady.

“You will tell me the identities of yourself, and the other Gotham vigilantes. You will tell me the best drug parts in this town. Or else you will die in this warehouse. Wouldn’t want your little clan dealing with that, now would you?”

Tim grinned. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Damian scowled. No, no, no! Don’t antagonize the kidnapper! It’s protocol!

But Drake didn’t hear Damian’s silent pleading. He only laughed.

Bronte didn’t seem to know what was so funny, so he continued on with his beating. A few punches later, and Damian found himself gripping the rafters. He should do something, he knew that, but he just. Couldn’t. Move. All he did was watch on in horror.

Bronte paused with his punches, taking a breath. “This clearly isn’t working,” he stated, “let’s kick it up a notch.

Jones walked over to a crate, atop which an array of tools lay on it. The man passed over newly quenched cigarettes - oh god, he’d use those on Drake, hadn’t he? The burns matched up - wrenches, knives, and garrotes. His hand landed on a batton that Damian recognised immediately.

“Oh no,” he whispered, his face going white.

Jones turned back to Red Robin, and shoved the baton into his ribs. Tim let out a scream at the sudden crackle of electricity that even Damian could hear from high up.

“How about we wait for the other bats to show up?” Bronte asked conversationally, still torturing Tim. “What do you think they’ll give to get one of their birds back?”

Tim laughed, though the sound came out more like a hacking cough. Blood leaked down his chin. “No one’s coming for me,” he said, “they’re all too busy. Or they hate me.”

Damian startled. What? No, that wasn’t true. He and Drake were past their hatred, weren’t they? Hadn’t he proven himself? Hadn’t he showed he cared?

Bronte growled, before signalling to his goons. “Fine, I guess there’s no reason to keep you alive then.”

Damian gasped. No, no this couldn’t happen! He glanced around, searching for something to aid his rescue attempt, there were too many men to handle on his own.

“Oracle, send Signal.” Damian muttered, knowing the microphone would pick his words up. He didn’t have time to listen for an answer though, it was time to act.

Robin leapt down from the heights of the warehouse, drawing his katana mid flip. He landed efficiently in front of Bronte Jones, glaring at the man who had dared to hurt his brother.

“Step away from Red Robin,” he said slowly, rising to his full height of five feet, two inches.

The man laughed. “You little brat. You’re outnumbered and outgunned.”

Damian tilted his head, radiating confidence that most definitely did not feel. “Very well,” he stated stiffly. “It is your funeral, as Nightwing says.”

A moment later, and he attacked. It was not as clean as he usually would, he was still fighting down panic, it was wild and desperate. But he still fought.

He downed four goons before he realised his current tactic wasn't working. He dodged a volley of bullets, he eyes falling upon Drake. The young man had slouched down in the chair, his eyes closed. Damian let out a curse in arabic. That idiot! He needed to stay awake!

Damian leapt forward, past the goons and Jones, past the table with horrid tools, past the downed bodies, and towards his brother. He threw down a smoke pellet to disguise his movements, and continued on his way. Once the area was completely covered, he attacked one more thug, intent on keeping up an illusion of his constant attacks.

Quickly, he made his way towards the out of commission vigilante, efficiently removing the rope bonds, and pulling him gently close. Damian could recognize broken ribs when he saw them.Once he was certain that Red Robin was secure at his side, he lifted up his grapple, and they rose swiftly out of the smoke. A moment later, along with a few more grapples, they were on an opposite roof.

Damian set his brother down, glancing behind for followers. The coast was clear.

“Red Robin?” Damian asked, leaning close. “Are you alright?” he cursed himself. Of course Drake wasn’t alright! Of all the times to act like Grayson, this was hardly it.

There was no response to his query, causing Damian to throw aside his self-flagellation.

“Drake?” Damian demanded more harshly. “Wake up! You are needed! You can’t die, that’s an order!” More silence. “Did you hear that? An order! From me! You hate me commanding you, so stick up for yourself!”

Damian breathed heavily, silently shaking. No, no no no! Drake couldn’t die!

“I…” Damian blinked, trying to figure out a course of action, but he couldn’t. He was frozen in place. mHe closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose, trying to calm himself.

“Dami?”

Damian gasped ever so slightly and looked down at the beaten and battered form of his brother. “Timothy? You’re alright?”

Timothy let out a light cough. “Seen better. Thanks for coming to get me.”

Damian couldn’t bring himself to make a sharp comeback. He just blinked down at his brother. He was awake. He was alive. He would be fine.

“Kay,” Drake said, “good talk. I’m gonna go to sleep now…”

Damian stiffened. “What? No! Timothy, you can’t!”

But the young man didn’t listen. Damian scrambled forward, grabbing his brother’s shoulders in an attempt to wake him as hard as he dared.

“Timothy?” Damian asked again, unable to strain the worry from his voice, “You can’t die. Father will be mad, and Grayson will stop functioning, and Todd will go on a rampage, and Brown will hide away, and Cain will strain herself to help everyone else while still falling apart, and Pennyworth won’t be able to live much longer with another heartbreak, he’s ancient as is. And Thomas won’t be able to handle it all either. And I…”

Damian paused, taking a shaky breath, before letting out a sentence that brought him both anguish and relief.

“Ahki, I don’t want you to die either!”

There were shouts from the surrounding buildings, feet hitting pavement, and Damian knew it was only a matter of time before they found them.

He reached over towards Timothy’s throat, searching for a heartbeat like he should have done from the beginning. He almost cried from relief when he felt the thrum. But it was weak. Too weak. He needed medical attention immediately, and not the kind at the cave. They needed Dr. Thompkins.

Damian stood up and searched the roof for something that could help them out of this situation. The tiniest part of him, who still thought like a league member, told him to run. To leave Timothy behind and run.

“No,” he told himself, “Timothy is stuck with me. We’re both getting out of this, or neither.”

The sounds of footsteps increased, thundering and shaking. They were closer, most likely from the stairwell leading to the roof both Robins now inhabited.

Damian drew his katana immediately and ran back to Red Robin, standing guard over his limp body. He would go down fighting, there was no other way he knew.

The tousling limbs and marching feet seemed to be all around him now - a part of him knew they weren’t really, that it was just his mind playing tricks. He took a breath, steadying himself.

“You and me, Timothy,” Damian spoke strongly, more to calm his own fear than anything else.

Just then the door to the roof slammed open, and in rushed three hulking thugs. Damian inhaled sharply - in fear, not that he’d ever admit it - and steadied his shaking hands.

But something was wrong. Instead of the goons rushing the pair of birds, they slumped to the ground. Behind them, standing in all his bright yellow glory, was The Signal. He had both escrima sticks drawn, and a grim smile on his face.

“Hey Robin,” he said, stepping over the bodies, “you called?”

*****

They made their way down to the street, able to carry between the two of them, and into the awaiting Batmobile. Thomas took the driver’s seat, Damian for once quiet about his ability to captain any moving vehicle, while the younger boy stayed with Timothy in the back.

The ride had been quiet, Duke not knowing what to say beyond the usual “what happened?” Damian shook when the question was asked, so Duke let it drop. An official report could be made later.

They made their way to Dr. Thompkins clinic, and came in the back way. She was already waiting - most likely due to Oracle calling ahead - and quickly ushered them into an awaiting room. Timothy, however, was brought someplace else.

Damian had resisted at first, panicking at the thought of his brother going anywhere out of sight, but Duke had pulled him back, easily disarming him and settling both of them on a bench. Damian had struggled and pulled and scratched and screamed in indignation, but Thomas hadn’t stopped holding on. Eventually, Damian’s anger gave way to huge, choking sobs. He hiccuped and curled his way into Duke’s chest, holding on for dear life. Duke just hummed and wrapped his arms around the terrified bird.

After a long, slow hour, Damian finally settled down into quiet whimpers. Duke continued to rub his back soothingly, but Damian couldn’t seem to fully calm down.

“He thought we wouldn’t come,” Damian choked out suddenly, and felt Duke steffen in surprise. “He said no one cared enough to save him. But I was right there, I watched them …”

Damian bit his lip to hold back another whimper, and Duke softened. “He was probably just saying that to get his captors to let him go,” Duke reasoned.

Damian hiccuped and shook his head, still tucked into Duke’s armored chest. “No, no he was right!”

Duke rubbed a little harder on his back. “No, he was-”

“I just stood there and watched!” Damian cried, “I came in and I saw what was happening, but I Could. Not. Move. I just … I  just watched.”

“Sounds to me like you froze,” Duke replied. “You’ve been doing this longer than I have Damian, you should know that everyone freezes at one point or another.”

Damian shook his head fervently, but didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply.

They remained silent for some time, every so often Duke offering soft reasurences that went unnoticed by Damian. Eventually, Leslie  came into the room.

“He’s stable,” she said when Duke looked over. Damian didn't have the energy to raise his head. “With some bed rest, he’ll be alright. You’re lucky you got to him when you did.”

Damian shuttered at the last word. No, he hadn’t been lucky. He’d been stupid, and weak. He shouldn’t have roze. He shouldn’t have-

Damian was jostled from his bout of self loathing when Duke stood up.

“Can we see him,” he asked.

Leslie nodded. “Follow me.”

*****

They settled down in the private room where Leslie had placed Timothy, but Damian couldn’t calm himself. He kept looking at his brother, bandaged, yes, but broken. He should have acted quicker.

Duke sat on the chair beside Tim’s bed, still carrying Damian. At another point, the boy would have profusely protested at such babying, but now he had no strength. Now, the most he could manage was tuck himself into Duke’s arms.

After a while, Duke rose, leaving Damian in the chair. He promised to return soon, just leaving long enough to call Babs and Steph & Kate, as well as grab something to eat. Maybe get some clothes as well.

“There’s that tea place near here you like, right?” Duke asked, and Damian mumbled his assent. “You’ll be alright?” he added right before leaving. “I won’t be gone forever. Try not to beat yourself up too much, okay?”

Damian straightened, trying to summon courage. “I …” he sank down, nodding tiredly.

Duke sighed softly and went out the door.

Damian sat staring at Drake for a long time. His brother didn’t move.

“Just wake up, ahki,” he sniffled.

*****

Tim was warm and comfortable. He felt the light fluffiness of pain meds blanket his senses, along with an actual blanket pulled all the way up to his shoulders. It felt warm and safe.

Wait - pain meds?

Tim blinked his eyes open, and briefly surveyed the room. It was one of the private ones in Leslie’s clinic, where they went when someone was seriously injured. Why was he here?

Oh.

The warehouse.

Tim mentally cringed at the flashes of memory that came with the realization. He’s delt with torture before, and honestly this time wasn’t the worst - fun fact: Ra’s Al Ghul lives up to the title “Demon’s Head - but he’d still gotten hurt. Thank goodness he’d sent out his distress signal and had gotten out. But he’d left Damian all alone to deal with the -

Damian.

Tim briefly panicked. Where was his brother? They’d gotten out, right? Maybe Duke had been woken up and provided back up, or Steph and Kate had-

A soft sniffle came from beside him.

Tim blinked and turned his head to find Damian tucked into a chair. He looked small, curled up like that. His hands gripped tightly at his Robin uniform. His eyes were unmasked and red, staring down at the floor. He sniffled again and rubbed at an eye.

“Just wake up, ahki.”

Oh.

It must have been bad.

Damian rarely cried.

But crying was good, in a way. He was alive, at least.

“Dami?” Tim croaked, finding his voice dry.

Damian jerked his face up, staring at Tim. His eyes were wide, and filled with relief. But also fear and … regret? Oh no, what had gone wrong?

“Dami,” he said again, a relieved smile on his face. “I knew you’d come.”

This had the opposite effect than expected. Damian’s eyes widened even more, and he scrambled backwards in his chair. “What?! No! You said-”

Tim sighed, “That was kind of stupid of me,” Tim cut in, “I thought if Bronte thought no one cared about me, then he’d just leave me behind long enough for one of you to grab me.”

Damian frowned. “But I still didn’t come fast enough. You were right. And when I got there I froze, Father would be so disappointed, I didn’t keep my head, and i-”

“Damian.” Tim interjected. “Come here.”

Damian pursed his lips, glancing at Tim’s injuries. But a moment later he complied, gingerly easing off of the chair and coming over towards the bed.

Tim held out his hand, and after a moment, Damian put his hand in his. Tim then pulled him closer, and rested the young boy's hand on his own chest. Right over the heart.

“Feel that?” he asked, and Damian nodded slightly. “I’m alive because of you okay? You came. I knew you would.”

Damian blinked back tears, and Tim was struck by just how young and vulnerable Damian looked. It wasn’t often the twelve year old let his walls down, and Tim felt guilty for bringing this on him. He seemed drained and exposed. Tim made a split second decision.

“Come on,” he said, scooching over as much as he could and patting the bed beside him.

“But-” Damian began, but Tim shushed him.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, Dami.”

Damian sighed and came back onto the bed. Tim pulled him closer, and the boy automatically curled into his side. Tim wrapped his arms around his brother and sighed into his hair.

“I’m alright, okay? And so are you. It’s alright now, Dami.”

Damian sighed, “Thank you, ahki.”

Tim smiled at the arabic word for brother. He liked it when they got along, no matter the circumstances. Tim bent down slightly and pressed a kiss to Damian’s head. The small boy let out a breath, and eased into soft snores. Good, he needed sleep.

Tim settled in and relaxed. A few minutes later Duke walked in in his Signal armor carrying a tray of drinks, the logo showing they were from a middleeastern tea place that Damian loved. He was followed by Kate and Steph, both in their respective uniforms.

“You guys alright?” Kate asked, walking past Duke and sitting on the chair.

Tim smiled softly. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Great,” Steph replied. “Then get some sleep.”

Tim laughed lightly, but he was warm and tired - which may have something to do with the pain killers Duke was not so subtly putting in - and had his little brother willingly snuggling him. He smiled again as the darkness washed over him.

They were alright.

Tagging: @starrystories2

[elareine]

Deaged Jaybird anyone?

Well, judging from ao3 and tumblr, I think the answer to that question is ‘everyone and amazingly so,’ but I might as well throw my hat into the ring, thank you <3

I thought this was gonna be sweet and funny. It didn’t exactly turn out that way.

rewind, fast forward, stop Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply - Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Temporary Character Death, Angst Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Age Regression/De-Aging, De-Aged Jason Todd, Family Issues, Family Feels, Loss of Trust, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt with Temporary Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, The Batfamily Needs Therapy, Bittersweet, Unreliable Narrator

“If he says the words unstable molecules one more time, I’m going to hit something,” Dick muttered.

“Jason’s been gone for two hours, and you’re already trying to replace him?” Tim asked. It was a weak joke, and Dick didn’t laugh.

Nygma and Crane were still arguing at metaphorical gunpoint (i.e., genuine sword end), bent over the makeshift crib.

“I didn’t expect this to happen, either! What’s the point of posing riddles if he’s a baby?”

“Well you still fucked up and now we’re here, basically hostages—”

Bruce held up a hand. Everyone fell silent.

“So. His age will change several times?”

“Yes.”

“You cannot predict the intervals.”

“No.”

“What does he remember?”

“I don’t know. We should ask him…”

“…when he reaches an age where he can speak, yes. Will this stop once he reaches the age he’s supposed to be?”

“I don’t—”

“Then we will find out. Nygma, you have 24 hours to fix this.” He turned and looked at Dick. “Call reinforcements and start the lab work.”

Dick nodded, but whatever he was going to ask wasn’t going to be heard because Jason chose that moment to start wailing.

Everyone froze. Despite all the arguing, the fact that they know had to care for a baby hadn’t seemed real until that moment.

Bruce, though, just lifted Jason up and to his chest with the same natural competence with which he handled explosives and batarangs. “There, there, Jaylad. You’re hungry, hmm? I bet Alfred has already prepared a bottle. Let’s go find him, shall we?”

——

Dick volunteered to stay home and watch the baby that evening. Except when he returned to the crib with a freshly prepared bottle, it was a toddler staring back at him.

“Hey there, little man,” Dick greeted him.

Silence.

Dick tried again. “Jason, are you in there?”

The kid stared back at him, clearly wondering what the strange man was talking about. His eyes were so blue. “Me.”

“Yes, you’re Jason,” Dick agreed. “Do you remember me?”

Jason’s brow furrowed as if he was concentrating really hard. “No?”

“That’s okay. I’m Dick. I’m—” your brother. But how did you explain that to a toddler who didn’t remember any siblings? “A friend.”

After a minute of stern evaluation, Jason’s expression melted into a smile, and he held up his short chubby arms. “Up?”

“Of course.” Dick bent down and scooped Jason up with one swift motion, bouncing him up and down for a few seconds, to Jason’s great delight and giggles. Then he settled him onto his hip. “How about some food, buddy?”

“Hungry!” Jason declared. It sounded like ‘angry.’ Dick wanted to record that and use it as Jason’s ringtone forever.

He couldn’t very well give him the baby formula now, so: “Let’s go to the kitchen, then, huh? I like midnight snacks, too.”

“Snack,” Jason repeated. He seemed to like that word. “Snack, snack, snack!”

“Yes, snack. Hey B,” he called softly through the non-emergency line as they walked through the corridor, “listen to who woke up.”

“Baba?” Jason asked. Dick had no idea whether he meant Bruce or was asking for his own father. Either way, it was devastating.

“Jaylad,” Bruce murmured back. Dick didn’t call him out on the use of real names. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“No.”

Dick tried not to laugh at the sleepy pout. “To be fair, I don’t know how ‘slept like a baby for hours,’ literally, affects his sleep schedule.”

“How old is he?”

“About… two? Maybe?” Dick was not an expert in estimating the age of children, so sue him. “Maybe younger. He’s real small, and he doesn’t remember me.”

Silence. “N, we’re coming home.”

The bats had barely been out for an hour. “Sure. See you soon.”

——

It was Tim who discovered the next transformation. He’d taken over the early morning shift by virtue of not sleeping anyway. Jason’s room had been quiet; Tim had just wanted to make sure he was doing okay when he was greeted with a much larger shape in the bed than he’d expected.

Which, fuck, that couldn’t be good, right? Last time Jason had only skipped a couple of years, but now he was at least six.

The figure was also too still to be asleep. Tim switched on the nightlight they’d installed by the door and looked at Jason. Yeah, his eyes were definitely open. It was eerie, the way he held himself still as if he was trying to disappear into the darkness. Don’t notice me, his position screamed. I’m not here, go away.

It was so familiar. Tim couldn’t breathe for a second for the way it was a perfect reversal of the way he himself had spent his childhood. Notice me, look at me, don’t leave.

“Hey,” Tim called out softly, unconsciously imitating Dick’s voice. “Can’t sleep?”

“Who are you.” His voice was clear and hard, a far cry from the sweet toddler who had played with Tim’s cape when they’d come home from patrol at midnight.

That had been four hours ago. It was going to be a long day, wasn’t it?

“I’m Tim,” he said. “You don’t remember me right now because you’re… sick, but we know each other.”

The distrust did not wane. “Where am I?”

“At my father’s house. Wayne Manor.” Tim smiled. “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“Who else is here?”

“Your family.”

That did not have the expected effect, at all. Jason shrank back, hands gripping the blanket tight even as his expression remained blank.

Tim’s hand moved to his bracelet and pressed a button. He’d promised Bruce to wake him up if there was a development. Besides, he was in over his head here, and he knew it.

“I’m going to call them, okay?” There was no answer.

It took less than two minutes for the doorway to be filled with people. Bruce was first, of course, closely followed by Dick, with Damian, Duke, and Cass lingering just behind them in the hallway.

“You’re going to crowd him,” Tim pointed out. “We’re all strangers.”

“Tim is right.” Bruce stepped forward. “Stay back.”

They watched as he crouched down in front of the bed. “Hi, Jason. You don’t remember me, and I know that’s scary.”

“I’m not scared.”

Tim couldn’t see his face, but he would bet good money that Bruce smiled at that. “No, you aren’t because you’re brave, aren’t you.”

“Hmm. Where’s mom?” Jason asked.

“She’s not here. I’m sorry. You’re staying with our family and me for now.”

“Where’s dad?”

“He’s not here, either, but—”

Jason’s shoulders deflated.

Oh. Oh.

Tim could feel the tension rack up in the room as every single family member was simultaneously filled with rage.

Bruce, however, looked calm. “As long as we are here,” he said, quietly but with the kind of conviction that could move mountains, “no one is going to hurt you. Your mother is fine, and so are you.”

And Jason looked up and believed him. Tim could see it in the way he relaxed, how he slumped down against Bruce’s bulk as if it was the only thing holding him up. He didn’t say anything.

Tim felt a gentle tug on his elbow. He followed the others outside, quietly, leaving Bruce to keep vigil. It was touching, but something about the scene bothered Tim.

“Do you think,” he quietly asked Dick as the group dispersed, “that we should call someone else? His friends? You have Roy’s number.”

“It will help, being here, when he reaches Robin age. They’re strangers until he’s an adult.”

That wasn’t the point. Tim frowned. “I know you think he should be with family when he’s like this. But Dick—we haven’t been his family for a long time. We shouldn’t see this stuff.”

Dick swallowed, but he didn’t argue with that. “B already knows.”

“Not all of it. Not what will happen when—”

“Yeah.” Dick’s shoulders slumped. “But do you think you can convince B of that?”

“No.” Tim sighed. “No, I don’t.”

——

“Master Jason, what are you doing in the kitchen?”

It was eight a.m., and even Master Tim was asleep by now. Alfred had kept an ear out for the sound of a preschooler waking up, but Master Jason must’ve aged again. He looked to be about nine now.

The kid frowned. “I don’t know who you are, but I need to make breakfast, or mom won’t eat.”

Alfred took a moment to fix his apron, blinking discreetly. “Of course, Master Jason. Your mother, however, isn’t here at the moment. Would you like to help me prepare some pancakes?”

——

There was a sound like something heavy falling, then a curse. “Where the fuck am I?”

Dick and Tim exchanged a glance. They’d installed Jason in front of the tv, at first, but he’d been more interested in the few children’s books Bruce kept around for guests.

Tim had tagged along—at this point, he had somehow wound up one of Jason’s primary caretakers, and wasn’t that a sentence he hadn’t expected himself to ever think? Looked like the time for children’s books had run out.

When they walked over to the armchair Jason had buried himself in, they found a pile of limbs in front of it, scrambling to get up and look at them. The family had taken to dressing Jason in the largest clothes they could get him in without them falling off, just to spare his modesty at the next change. Not that Jason had really grown much over the last few episodes…

At least he was dressed as he woke up in an unfamiliar living room because he couldn’t remember the previous episode or his adult life, Tim thought. Honestly, this curse/science mishap/whatever seemed hellbent on making their lives as miserable as possible.

Dick advanced cautiously. “Jason—”

“And you would be?” the boy asked, his voice suddenly much lighter.

“My name’s Dick Grayson, and you’re safe here.”

“Hmm, am I?” There was something wrong with the way Jason looked at Dick. His weight was shifted to the side, pushing his hip to the front, his long lashes almost fluttering, and there was something challenging in his gaze as if he was daring Dick—as if he was—

The idea was so incongruous—so impossible—that it took Tim too long to connect the dots. It was the exact pose he saw the working girls and boys adopt, night after night when they approached a car.

The thing with Tim was: He could be thrown off a building, and his brain would still keep on working all the way down. (No, seriously, that happened several times.) It was just how it was. So he could be shocked at what was happening, at what he’d just learned about Jason, and still notice that Dick wasn’t.

Perhaps he was making a mountain of a molehill, then. Perhaps Jason had just seen too much on the streets and was trying to play along, to give Dick what Jason thought he wanted, and then he’d punch him when he got too close and get out of here.

Perhaps.

“Let’s just—wait it out, okay?” Dick sighed. “You got temporary amnesia. It’ll all be clear tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Jason looked like he didn’t believe him, but was willing to run with it. “You got some food?”

——

“Oh, hey Dick! You look different!”

Dick thought he was about to cry with relief. Finally, a Jason that knew them, that wouldn’t have to be reassured about their intentions every few hours. “Hey, Jason.”

“Is it for a case?”

“Something like that,” he said. “You’re in the future, sort of. We have to wait a few hours before you can go back.”

Jason’s eyes went wide. “Really? That’s so cool! Can I talk to myself? Where am I? What year is it? What am I doing?”

“We can’t tell you that,” Tim said suddenly. “You know. Time travel code. Gotta follow the rules.”

“Ah.” Jason nodded as if that made any sense. “But you can tell me about other things, right? What about the cave? Can I see how it changed?”

“No, not the cave—” not while that damn memorial was still there, “—but Alfred has a collection of photos in one room if you want to see.”

That would be fine. Jason wasn’t in any of those, anyway.

“Whoa,” Jason commented when he saw how many pictures there were. “This family sure has grown. Wait, who is that?”

“That’s me,” Tim said.

Jason frowned. “That’s a Robin outfit. Are you Robin after me?”

And Dick—he could see how Tim tensed up. Understandably so, they had all heard what Jason called him. “Yeah, I—I didn’t mean to repl—you were—”

“It’s okay,” Jason shrugged. “Robin is more than one person, right? Dickie here said that. You don’t stop being Robin. You just share it.”

Tim blinked once. Then again.

Dick watched in some concern, because—surely that’s what he said to him back when he gave Robin to Damian, too? Right? It was all such a blur, but he must have.

Jason was already moving on to the next picture. “Wow, are these your wings?!”

“Yeah.”

“Did you make them? That’s so cool, I wanna fly too!”

Dick watched in amusement as a blush spread across Tim’s face. “I could show you the plans?”

“That would be fun! It could be a project.” Then he whirled around. “Do you go to school?”

“Uh, not really.”

Jason frowned. “You should. Grades are important. You can’t go superheroing forever if you don’t have money.”

“That’s true.” Tim looked suitably chastised. Dick bit down on a laugh as he watched Jason walk along Alfred’s little gallery, commenting on everything he saw and pulling Tim along.

God, thinking about the kid they saw yesterday, this Jason was a miracle. Dick knew what it meant to pull yourself up after darkness crashed down on you, how to find a way to smile after you lost everything.

And he knew, too, what a single person who cared for you—who believed in you could do.

(Maybe Dick should’ve remembered that when Jason became a miracle for the second time.)

Bruce had been that for both of them. Even now, Dick could see him at the doorway, watching Jason with such pride and unbearable longing on his face. Then a shadow fell over his expression, and he turned away.

“Dick!” Jason called over. “Tim has never heard the train story! C’mon, you’re the best at telling it.”

“He hasn’t heard it because it’s embarrassing,” Dick whined, but he walked over and joined them. Might as well make the most of this, right?”

——

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Zatanna said. “There’s nothing I can do.”

She was magic, Cass knew, and Bruce didn’t like magic. So if he was asking her for help… Duke, next to her, looked worried, as well.

They weren’t letting the two of them see Jason, and that was okay. Neither of them had ever been close to Jason. Not that Dick or Tim had been, exactly, but they cared in a way Cass and Duke admittedly didn’t.

“Is there anything that could slow down his aging process, at least?”

“Nothing but putting him into stasis, and he would not thank you for that, Bruce.”

Duke dared to ask: “But Nygma said the effect of the gas should stop once he’s reached his proper age, right? So that should be… alright?”

“And what,” Bruce ground out, “if the next time he phases forward, he’s dead?”

“Bruce.” Zatanna put a hand on his shoulder, empathy in every line of her body.

Bruce shook her off as if he couldn’t bear the touch. “We don’t know if he’ll wake up this time.”

For a second, Cass wanted to hurt everyone who made Bruce sound like that. But she knew there was nothing she could do. Love, she knew, cut like that sometimes.

——

Damian was well aware that they would prefer to keep him far away from Todd. To a certain extent, he understood. He would not wish more people than necessary to watch him relive his own childhood, either.

However, no one in this family was prepared for what was coming next. Damian knew.

The minute the screaming began, Damian walked into the room.

Jason was convulsing on the bed. Dick was frantically checking him for injuries, and Damian clicked his tongue. “That won’t help. He is not bleeding.”

Bruce turned to him. “Damian, what—”

“He’s in pain. His body is half-alive, half-dead,” Damian told them calmly. His voice wasn’t shaking. It wasn’t. “It won’t stop until he swims in a Lazarus Pit.”

His father should not look like this. Helpless. Pitiful. Damian resented him for it, just a little bit. Father had not been there the first time. This would only last for hours, and all he had to do was wait. The crushing weight of how to fix this was not on him as it had been on Mother.

“I’m going to get a tranquilizer,” Dick murmured.

——

Duke wondered what they would do if Jason woke up in full rage mode. He had seen the files, had read everything he could the minute this started happening. Cass had told him the rest, pieced together from hints her brothers had dropped over the years. There was no way they could deal with that if they were unprepared and Jason was in their home. No way.

So he was… nervous. Just a bit. Enough so that he was camping out in front of the bedroom that they were keeping Jason for now. Sure, Jason had been medicated, but Duke had seen Bruce trying that on Red Hood before. Red Hood had barely slowed down. Whatever the Lazarus Pits were, exactly, they sure did a number on a person’s metabolism.

Duke got his answer when Bruce sent everyone out of the room. Batman would wait alone, then. Dick and Tim obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

Tim, however, returned a minute later with Bruce’s utility belt, shock full of batarangs and other weapons. The older man, however, hesitated to take it.

“Bruce,” Tim said, and he very gently touched a scar on his neck.

Bruce took the belt.

——

The next morning, Jason left.

Minutes before, Bruce watched him as he woke up.

He had known as soon as he had seen Jason as a toddler that his son would not forgive him for this. The others, maybe. They had only tried to help. Bruce was the one too selfish to let Jason keep his secrets, bring him to people he trusted.

Because that sure as hell wasn’t him anymore. Deservedly so or not, Bruce had had to face that reality a long time ago.

Still, when Jason opened his eyes and there was only a tinge of green in them, nothing like the rage of the pit, just like they had been the last time Bruce had seen him without the mask—for that one moment, Bruce allowed himself to hope.

Maybe, just maybe, Jason wouldn’t remember. Then he could use the whole thing as a learning experience—see it as bonding, even—something that would allow them to finally move on; that would help Bruce to find the right trigger to get Jason to give up his mad crusade and come home.

Then Jason blinked, and his eyes were empty even of hate.

“My phone?” was all he asked.

“In the cave.” Bruce kept his voice even because what else could he do?

Jason nodded. Then he left, and he did not come back.

[batfamily-trash]

A Little O.D.D

I was wondering if you could write an imagine with batsis!reader based off of O.D.D. by Hey Violet? Extra angsty pretty please? Like the reader has trouble in school and no one really likes her? 

Warning: Deals with death, angst, language, nightmares, mentions dying

Part 1 of 2

You usually had nice and peaceful dreams, dreams where your life was perfect. Like tonight, it was just you and your mom eating ice cream while taking a walk in the park. Enjoying the scenery. Then it changed. Your mom was under a car while you were on the side of the road trying to crawl towards her. You tried to shout but you couldn’t. No sound would come out of your mouth. The closer you got the further away she moved. Just when you thought you could reach her, the car exploded.

“L/N WAKE UP WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”

You woke up in a start. You were gasping for air as tears rained down your face. You glanced at the door then at your alarm clock which was playing your favorite song. You turned it off and got off your bed wiping off your tears.

“L/N!”

“GODDAMMIT DAMIAN I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!” you shouted at the closed door. You couldn’t deal with Damian’s personality, and he couldn’t deal with your whole existence. He hated you with a burning passion. He thought you were just a person trying to get in the way of his family. He didn’t like you at all.  And he was going to use every single minute of his life to let you know.

You stomped to your closet and pulled out your uniform and shoes and stomped to the bathroom to take a quick shower. After getting changed and fixing your hair you glared at your reflection. You had bags under eyes from not properly sleeping and your scars from the car accident were still visible.

You dreaded waking up every morning just to go to a school where they make fun of you for no reason other than the fact that you were the product of a one night stand and that you were a charity chase. You ran out of the bathroom and quickly grabbed your phone, headphones, and backpack. You put your headphones in and put on the first song that came up on your playlist.

I was raised by a mom

who told me I should never listen to another voice But my own

You hummed along to the lyrics as you pushed Damian out of your doorway and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

“Tt, why do you always take so long?” Damian complained. Now I’ve grown up, now I know That when I’m tryna be myself it isn’t so simple Anymore

“Well, I didn’t want to see your ugly ass face this early in the morning,” you retorted.

You saw Damian clench his fist from the corner of your so you took off running before he could throw the punch.

Some days I wake up I just wanna hide under the covers

If only that were possible you thought… ‘Cause no matter what I do I’ll never be like all the other

You grabbed an apple from the counter and sprinted the driveway before anyone could strike a conversation with you.

“What’s up with her?” you heard someone ask. You sighed and opened up the front door. Life wasn’t going to get any easier, was it?

I’m a little O.D.D Most people really don’t get me

All the way to school Damian wouldn’t stop glaring or complaining about you. Honestly, you were too tired to care. Once you were in school you made a beeline for your first class. You really didn’t hang out with anyone. All your friends were back home in Keystone. Once in your class, you walked to your sit in the back far corner of the room, your head hanging down.

I’m the girl in the back of the class

Blank stare, don’t care, don’t ask

Your classmates were annoying as hell. If they weren’t bugging you they were talking about you, and if they weren’t talking about you then you get the gist.

I’m a little O.D.D

And I see the way they look at me

This is your third month in this putrid school and you haven’t gotten used to the stares or whispers.

I can hear it when they talk that trash

Saying “Any minute she gon’ crack”

“So Wayne, is it? How’s life? I heard about the fight with Xavier,” April the school star said.

“April,” you started, “what do you need?”

“Can’t I try and make friends with you?”

“No, you insulted my mom and my friends. You ruined the one thing I still had of her,” you said.

“Ok, who’s gonna want to be friends with this sell out anyway,” she said walking back to her desk. You glared at everyone who was staring at you before laying your head down on the desk. Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse someone dumped water on you.

“Oops, sorry.”

Oh

My sister, bless her heart

She was the only one who had my back when everyone

Else did not

Cass was the only person who would check up on you at all. If she saw you in distress she would help you. If Damian was being a prick she would stop him. She was an angel among idiots.

Looking back, it’s crazy

I almost turned into the person people told me I

I should be

Your mother taught you to be humble, be nice to everyone. If it weren’t for Cass you would probably be in even more trouble than you were now.

“You’re failing the majority of your classes,” your ‘dad’ told you.

“I’m sorry but how am I supposed to deal with school if I’m still grieving and the idiots I call ‘classmates’ won’t stop talking about me.”

“Ignore them.”

“As if it were that simple! They’re on my ass all day! y/n this, y/n that! y/n you should just go kill yourself. y/n are sure you’re even Bruce Waynes daughter?” you shouted, “I’m done! I can’t do this anymore!”

You ran out of the study bumping into your adoptive brothers.

Some days I wake up I just wanna hide under the covers

Another day, more problems. This time though you did hide under the covers. Same dream, same nightmare, different outcome.

'Cause no matter what I do I’ll never be like all the others

Because—

You stayed in bed not wanting to get up. But your brother’s had other plans.

“Get up lazy we’re going out,” Jason said barging in your room.

You groaned in annoyance and kicked at them. “Can’t I be alone with my thoughts for one second?!?!”

“No.”

I’m a little O.D.D

Most people really don’t get me

I’m the girl in the back of the class

Pink hair but I’m wearing all black

What your brothers didn’t tell you was that they were all going to a press conference.

can hear it when they talk that trash

Saying “Any minute she gon’ crack”

“Miss Wayne! What can you tell us about your mother!”

“Is it true what they say?”

“Was the accident staged?!?”

All of the press were on you like bees swarming a beehive. The audacity. Bruce gently pushed you forward and told you to not answer any questions. So many personas for one man. You could barely keep the one you had up.

I’m a little O.D.D

And I see the way they look at me

You glanced at your brother as Bruce answered questions. Dick, Jason, and Cass looked at you with pity. Damian had a smirk on his lips. And Tim looked distracted. What was going on?

I can hear it when they talk that trash

You listened as Bruce answered a question directed towards you. Apparently, while you suffered in silence something had happened. You saw Jason whisper something to Dick who quickly looked out into the crowd, you followed his gaze. You stiffened in your place. You caught a glimpse of the person Jason was talking about. Tears formed in your tears.

“Mom?”

Saying “Any minute she gon’ crack”

[teen-titans-imagines]

East of Eden pt 9

Jason Todd & Daughter! Teenager! Reader

A/n: ANOTHER INTENSE PART. LET’S GOOOOOOO. BTW, this part was heavily influenced by the song Duet, which you can find on the playlist!! Thanks!

Comments are appreciated, and are key. Please comment. It helps with motivation and efficiency. Thank you!

—

Part One / Part Two  / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine [Here] / Part Ten / Part Eleven [Final]

—

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Drama, Action, Fluff Rated: Mature Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood and Gore, Swearing, Graphic Depictions of Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Graphic Injuries, Nightmares, PTSD, Trauma, Just read with caution please

—

Author: Teen-Titans-Imagines

—

Jason couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten this much exercise. His legs were burning, his sides were aching, and he was sure his stomach was churning. His breaths were coming out in small puffs, and Dick, the clear example of what it meant to not be apparently human, chuckled. 

“Come on, Jason. Don’t tell me you’re tired!” 

Damian scoffed in agreement. 

“I’ve climbed mountains without stairs and higher than this at four years old, Todd.” 

Jason snapped, glaring at the two. 

“I’m old, I’m hungry, and stressed. What more do you two want from me? A fucking gymnastics routine going up?”

Dick grinned, and Jason rolled his eyes. They should have just taken the jet up, and had Hasan drop them off. Tim didn’t seem to be doing any better than him, his sweat running down the side of his face in waves. Bruce, who was ahead of them all, gave them a stern look. 

“Stop bickering, you three. This isn’t going to be easy for any of us.” 

Damian rolled his eyes, and Jason huffed. Tim slipped slightly, and Jasons’ hand shot out to grab one of the red wings of the suit. 

“Are you alright, Tim?” 

Tim panted, and he mumbled. 

“I haven’t worked out this much since training...I guess I’m a little out of shape.” 

Jason hooked his arm between Tim’s legs while grabbing his arm, Tim gasping and protesting, before throwing the man over his shoulders in a firefighter hold. While the weight was a bit much for Jason, he wasn’t going to leave his own brother behind. Tim, though embarrassed, murmured as he relaxed. 

“Thanks, Jay.” 

Jason hummed as he looked on up at the stairs. 

“I got you, Tim.” 

Dick, who had fell behind after pausing for a bit, smiled softly at the sight. Damian, who had fallen in step with Dick, whispered softly. 

“(Y/n) made him soft.” 

Dick shook his head, patting Damian’s back. 

“No...she made him happy.” 

Dick began walking again, and Damian, shocked by Dick’s words, shook his head before rushing to catch up. 

-WITH READER-READERS POV-

A gentle shaking awoke you from your slumber, and upon opening your eyes, you spied the beautiful gaze of Na’ila, her comforting gaze upon you soft. 

“Wake up, my dear, it is time.”

Stretching, you noticed the water was still a bit warm. Slipping out, you found that your knees were weak, almost slipping to the ground hadn’t it been for Na’ila holding you. She chuckled and soothed as she sat you on the ledge of the tub. 

“Coming out of a spiritual bath is always weak on a person. Do not worry.” 

You nodded tiredly, rubbing the back of your neck as Na’ila instructed, holding up a long, white piece of cloth. 

“Arms up. I am going to be wrapping your chest.” 

“Why?”

You asked, voice hoarse and laced with sleep. Na’ila raised her eyebrow, smiling slightly as you raised your arms anyway. 

“This is for when your journey begins. You are not supposed to wear anything that might hold residual energy, for it could disrupt the purification process. Men would usually do this with nothing, but Nazeem didn’t want to go down that road, if you understand. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible. These cloths have been blessed, so they shouldn’t harm your journey.” 

As she finished wrapping your chest, the cloth covering your whole torso and belly, she slipped your legs through a skirt, fastening the leather cord tightly in the back so it would stay up. The skirt was long, a pristine white that was almost blinding, and covered your feet when you stood. With an arm within yours, Na’ila began to guide you. 

The door with the strange glow behind it came up to you, and Nazeem was waiting for you beside the door. He smiled and patted your shoulder gently. 

“Are you ready to begin your journey?” 

You shrugged, looking at the man tiredly. He chuckled and turned to Na’ila, saying while bowing his head. 

“Thank you for caring for her.”

Na’ila smiled and nodded. Nazeem announced, his hand waving before the door. 

“Behold, my dear, the road to your salvation.”

The door opened, and your eyes widened as light blinded you.

-WITH HASAN-

Hasan was freaking out. The batfamily was already halfway up the mountain, and he didn’t want to risk trying to climb up. What was he going to do? He couldn’t warn Nazeem at all, and if the batboys disrupted the process, it could very well mean the end of (Y/n)’s soul.

Pacing, Hasan ran a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath. Looking up at the sky, he called. 

“If you even think about smiting me, I’ll come up there and fight every last one of you! You hear me? I’m too old for any of this.”

Hasan raised his foot, his heart dropping, before placing it on the step. His breath left his lungs in a relieved puff, and Hasan lifted his other foot to place it on the next step. However, a shock went through him, and he yelped, falling backward.

“Oh, come on! Haven’t I done my part?”

Lightning shot down beside him and Hasan screamed in surprise, jumping back before stomping the ground. 

“By the Light, why the fuck not?! Why do they get to go but I can’t? This is bullshit!”

Thunder rolled, and Hasan pouted, crossing his arms as he stared at the staircase. 

“Fine. I didn’t even want to go anyway.”

As he turned to leave, a gust of wind pushed him back to the stairs, and a crack of thunder hit the sky, making Hasan widen his eyes as he was pushed to the stairs. Getting the memo, Hasan muttered before bounding up the stairs.

“You all need therapy. I didn’t sign up for old people fighting over who gets to go up the stairs and who doesn’t.”

-WITH JASON-

Jason panted as he placed Tim down, hands on his knees as he hunched over. Dick was rubbing his sore legs, and Damian was checking his weapons, making sure none had fallen off on their ascent to the top. Bruce turned to the boys, saying. 

“We’re at the top. Be quick about the break, I’m doing scans of the temple, and I’m not getting much.”

Jason asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are you saying that we came here for fucking nothing?”

Bruce shook his head, taking his cowl off with a deep frown. 

“No, I’m saying my equipment is malfunctioning. There seems to be something here preventing any of my thermal imaging to work.” 

Tim muttered, pressing buttons on his arm. 

“Same here. I guess we gotta search the old fashion way.”

Jason frowned deeply before they began to enter the courtyard. Followers of the Elder Temple were nowhere to be found, and Damian announced. 

“It’s quiet...I don’t like this.”

Jason nodded in agreement, before a voice caught their attention. Hasan, showing up on the staircase on the left, hunched over, panting. 

“Oh...my god. I am never...ever doing that again.”

He ran over and put his hands in front of the family, warning.

“You guys cannot go in there. (Y/n) has begun her journey to salvation. If you disrupt that, you could possibly destroy her soul. You cannot be in there. Not right now.”

Jason snapped, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt, yanking him up to Jason’s level. 

“Listen, you fucking prick, and listen good. My daughter is in there, the daughter that you took from me. I’m not gonna let some god-kissing man thwart me from seeing my daughter. You’re going to stay out of my way, or I’m gonna put a fucking bullet in your head, you understand me?”

Hasan frowned and retaliated, holding Jason’s wrist. 

“Jason, I know she is your daughter, and I’m sorry that it came to this. If I could have healed her myself, I would have, but I do not have that capability. High Priest Nazeem has sensed a darkness within her that could mean the destruction of the world.”

Jason slowly lowered Hasan, his frown softening. 

“If you go in there and disrupt the process, any error could set that darkness off. Her soul will break, succumb to the darkness, and she will not be the same (Y/n) you once knew. I’m not trying to stop you because I don’t want you to see your daughter. I’m trying to stop you from being the ones to kill her.”

Jason felt anger roll through him, but he knew that Hasan was right. Why would Hasan lie to him? He had been truthful with him during their whole arrival, and he seemed to genuinely care about (Y/n). Stepping back, Jason shook his head. 

“I’m not leaving. I need to see her, Hasan. I can’t just fucking stay out here when I know my daughter is within reach.”

Hasan’s eyes saddened, and he held Jason by the shoulders. 

“Jason, I understand. If there was a way I could change the rules, I would. I am but a man, and cannot change the celestial rules.” 

“No, but I can.”

They all turned to spy Nazeem, his blind eyes soft. Hasan widened his eyes and whispered. 

“High Priest Nazeem...”

“My apprentice, it is lovely to see you again.”

They bowed at each other before Nazeem approached Jason.

“The heart of a man is strong, but the heart of a father has the strength of 10,000 gods and suns, my son. The gods know of your true intent, and have allowed you to come here. I cannot fight their judgement. You being here upon this ancient stone is for reason, not mistake.”

Nazeem then frowned. 

“But, that does not mean that what Hasan says is false. If you disrupt the process in anyway, there will be no telling what will happen. If you are to witness the trial, you must learn to keep your tongues still. All of you. Do you understand?”

Bruce immediately replied, nodding his head. 

“You have our word.”

Nazeem nodded before gesturing for them to follow. 

“Come. The journey has already begun, but it will be a lengthy process.”

Jason followed Nazeem, following him through the long corridor to a door with a strange glow beneath it. Nazeem turned to Jason, his blind eyes stern.

“Your tongue will be still from here on out. Do I have your word, Jason Todd?”

Jason widened his eyes, wondering how he knew his name, before nodding. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Opening the door, Jason’s eyes widened as his breath left him.

-NO ONES POV-

The room was filled with the Followers of the Elder Temple, surrounding a large lagoon-like pool, the waters glowing as the followers chanted. Behind the pool, it opened up into huge archways, showing the cloudy skies as the sun shone through the windowless archways, almost seeming celestial in its own way. The light from the sun reflected off of the water, casting glows of gold across the room. 

In the middle of the pool floated a pod-like cocoon, (Y/n)’s form within the pod. Her eyes were closed, and her knees were brought to her chest, her arms holding them to her chest. Her hair floated around her, as if in water, and Jason briefly wondered if the cocoon was just water. As the boys piled into the room, Jason couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter. 

She looked peaceful, as if nothing had happened to her, and Jason wondered what Nazeem meant when he said she was going through a journey. Jason bit his lip, tears stinging his eyes. She was so close, literally just about thirty feet from him, and he couldn’t go over to hold her.

The girl twitched, her head shaking slightly, and Jason noticed her veins were glowing a soft gold, the water-like cocoon rippling. Hasan’s breath was lost to him, his eyes wide as he stared on, and Jason couldn’t help but inwardly chuckle. Glancing back at (Y/n), he wondered what was going on with her.

-READERS POV-

There was a brief moment of darkness, nothing feeling different, before a light shot through the dark, blinding you once more. When you uncovered your eyes, You widened them when you noticed you were at a table. Specifically, the dinner table at the apartment. 

Your father sat at one end, digging into his food as he read something on his phone. A voice caught your attention, and you felt tears prick your eyes.

“Jason, you know the rules! No phones at the table while dinner is in session!”

Your mother walked into the room, her beautiful (e/c) eyes amused. Jason perked up and awkwardly coughed, slipping his phone from the table. 

“Phone? What phone? I don’t see a phone here.”

She giggled before teasing.

“Right, so that’s why I just saw yours?”

Jason blushed and shook his head. 

“You didn’t see anything.”

You noticed that your arms were reaching for more food, and realized that this was a memory. Jason looked over at you, smiling brightly.

“I think she’s enjoying your turkey, Momma.”

Mom chuckled before sitting beside you, causing you to look at her. Her eyes were bright, amused by your five-year-old you’s antics.

“You like the food, babygirl?”

You nodded, your actions completely uncontrolled, and Mom laughed, nuzzling her nose with yours. 

“You’re so sweet.”

The scene rippled and changed, now changing to when you first went to school. Your mother was holding your hand as you sobbed, and your father knelt before you, his blue eyes soft. 

“It’s ok, baby girl. It’s only going to be for a couple hours!”

“I’m scared!”

 Mom chuckled before kneeling beside Jason, encouraging. 

“Your father is right. Plus, this is a great opportunity to make friends, baby girl!”

Looking between the two, you shook your head. 

“I don’t want to go. I wanna stay with you and Daddy.”

Your mother chuckled before running her hands through your hair. 

“It will be alright, sweetie. How about Daddy and I walk you in. Would you like that?”

You nodded, and your parents took their places on either side of you, holding your hands and swinging you back and forth to make you happy once again.

As the scene rippled, you could feel your heart twist slightly in yearn. The scene changed, and you noticed it was a memory from when you were much older. You were sitting against the door, listening to your parents fighting with a hollow heart.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just stay home and be a father!”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here, (M/n)? I’m fighting crime to keep her safe, not because I don’t want to be here!”

“Jason, she constantly wonders why you’re never home! What the fuck am I supposed to tell her? That her father is a vigilante of Gotham and doesn’t have time for her?”

“You know that’s not fucking true.”

Your mother’s voice raised, something shattering as she screamed.

“Yes it is! Jason, you missed the god-damn Father-Daughter dance! I had to be there for that! Do you know how many looks she got when parents noticed that it was just her and I the whole fucking night?!”

“That wasn’t my fucking fault, (M/n)! I was on a mission that I couldn’t get out of!”

“Exactly! Jason, you are choosing being Red Hood over being her god damn father!”

Your father screamed. 

“Stop making it seem like I don’t want to be with her, (M/n)! You know that I can’t give up being Red Hood! I’m doing this to keep her safe!”

“No you’re not. You’re doing it because you like the thrill of it.”

“Yeah, maybe I fucking do.”

It was quiet for a moment before your mother snapped.

“You have a week to start acting like a man and a father! If you don’t...if you don’t improve, then you are done. You are getting out of this house.”

“You can’t do that! I enjoy being both! You can’t take away the things that I love from me. That’s unfair!”

“Then find a way to do both! Because if you don’t, you’re fucking done and out of this house!”

Their voices faded as the scene did, and it jumped to when your mother had gotten sick.

Your mother coughed as she searched for a cup, her skin pale and eyes ringed in a sickening red. You were concerned as you sat at the table, munching on cereal as she swayed slightly.

“Mom, is everything ok?”

She sighed slightly, her head resting on her bicep as she grasped the ledge of the cupboard.

“Yes, dear. I’m fine. Just a bit tired, I suppose.”

Sweat ran down the side of her face, and her eyes fluttered before she collapsed, causing you to gasp and shoot out of your chair.

“Daddy! Mom just fainted! Dad!”

Your father ran in, his blue eyes searching and widening when they spied your mother on the floor. Quickly, he knelt beside her and tried to get her to wake up.

“Baby, can you hear me? Sweetheart, wake up!”

When she didn’t respond, your father turned to you.

“Call an ambulance. Make sure to do everything they say and answer their questions as quick as you can, alright?”

Crying, you nodded before grabbing the phone.

The scene faded, and you sighed. That was probably the hardest moment in your life, something that you hated reliving. Every single time you dreamed of that, you never failed to wake up in tears and wishing that your father had noticed her sickness sooner. That you had noticed it sooner.

You held your mother’s hand, sobbing as she smiled softly at you, her sunken face sweaty and paler than before.

“Don’t cry, baby girl. We’ll be alright.”

“No, mom...Mom please don’t go. I need you here with me. I can’t do anything without you.”

You mother chuckled as she caressed your face.

“My dear, you can do anything the world asks of you to do. You’re so strong...and you’re so kind. You can do this, my lovely girl. You can fight through this. I’ve seen you do it...and I know you.”

“But I can’t...I can’t do it without you, mom!”

Your mother smiled

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be with you...I’ll be the wind that blows in your ear...the trees you pass...the road you walk upon. I’ll be the rain...the sky...the sun that shines upon you and the moon that illuminates the night for you. I’ll be the stars in the night sky that twinkle down at you.”

You sobbed hard as she coughed, straining to stay awake for just a while longer.

“You...you have so much power and talent, baby girl. You are going to change the world one day, maybe even save it...and I promise I’ll be watching the whole time. I’m proud of you, baby.”

You cried into her chest, screaming in agony as she gently pet your hair.

“I love you, and I am so, so proud of the woman you are becoming...and the woman you will be.”

With that, her hand paused, and you knew. Within an instant, you knew. You didn’t even need to hear the monotone frequency of the heart monitor to know she was gone. Your father leaned over you, holding you to him as you sobbed.

Why.

Why were you being shown these memories? Why were you being shown all the things you had tried so hard to forget about? What was the purpose of this?

The pain was the only thing you could really feel. Punch after punch, taunt after taunt, it just seemed to never end.

“You’ve gotten quiet. You finally realizing that Daddy Dearest isn’t coming to save you?”

You growled and glared at the man, snarling out.

“I…still have..my faith.”

Black Mask grinned.

“You know, your determination to keep believing is quite admirable, if not amusing. Holding onto just that one little thread of hope, just hoping that your father will come and save you from your imminent death. It’s cute.”

You muttered.

“You want cute-”

You spat blood and saliva in his face, leaning back afterwards.

“-how’s that for cute, jackass?”

He growled and backhanded you, your face snapping to the side, a grunt leaving your lips as more blood rushed from your nose and busted lips.

“Insolent girl!”

You were trembling as you remembered; wishing it would end. What was the purpose of this?

“Why? Why are you showing me this? Stop. Stop!”

“I was…I was…scared…”

Jason squeezed your hand.

“…At one…point…I even…I even gave…in. I didn’t….I didn’t think you…were coming.”

You turned your head to him slowly, despite the pain, and smiled softly, Jason’s blue eyes filled with hot, fat tears.

“…but you…did. You saved…me…and I…love you. My hero.”

You chuckled a bit, but Jason was crying hard at your heartfelt words, holding your hand to his forehead as he sobbed. Jason whispered to you, holding your hand in a tight yet gentle grip.

“I love you so much, so, so much. I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve…more than…this.”

You ran a hand through your hair as you watched, screaming in emotional agony. What was going wrong?

“Wow. I’ve…never flown before…and never been on a private jet before. Are you sure this is ok? I’m not that important.”

Hasan looked at you sadly throught he sunglasses, though you couldn’t see it.

“You have more worth than all the stars in the sky, Ms. Todd.”

You huffed before sinking down into your seat. Looking at him, you noticed he was wearing an earpiece and heard a voice counting down, presumably to when the cameras on the streets would turn back on.

“So, do you have people you know in high places that just give you these expensive things or are you really that rich?”

“I guess you could say I have friends in higher places.”

You nodded before sighing, crossing your arms. As your eyes turned to the streets, your mind began to wander again. Were you making the right choice?

You paused. Where was this going? What were they trying to show you? What was he trying to tell you?

His knife dragged across the skin of your rib cage, pressing in deep with a harsh bite like a vicious animal that hadn’t eaten for weeks. You whined out, biting your lip so hard that you could taste blood, and Black Mask cackled.

“And now here I am with his little bitch of a daughter. A fighting spirit reduced to nothing but a pile of shaking bones. Look at you. So pathetic and weak, quivering at my touch like a rabbit before the fox.”

He leaned down, hissing into your ear as he dragged his fingers down the length of your spine.

“Can you feel it? The sharp pain of knowing that no one else will believe you if you tell them of my presence? To you, I am real, but to them? The people outside? They can’t see a thing. They can’t help you, and that must be more painful than anything in the world.”

It was. The fact that nobody else could help you from this conscious nightmare was a killing factor to your mental health. While your body was starting to take its toll from the wounds Black Mask had inflicted on you, your mind was in another world. A darkened reality that you were beginning to think that you could never escape from.

Another memory ran through your mind, and you began to understand.

The lights disappeared, and the room became dim, save for the torches that seemed to never stop burning. Nazeem turned to you, and asked.

“Are you satisfied, or do you wish that you never knew?”

You shook your head.

“I am glad that I know. Now that I know what’s wrong, now I will be prepared for what is ahead of me.”

You were confident, and Nazeem smiled, resting his hands upon your shoulders.

“Your strong will and determination to persevere never fails to amaze me, my dear. I have a feeling that one day, when you perish, you will have a place among the gods. Come, we must start the preparations.”

You weren’t being shown these memories as punishment. No...these were reminders. Reminders of why you were here. Why you kept fighting. It wasn’t about salvation to you. It had never been about that. 

It had been about healing. About the want for everything to be better. It had been about your parents, specifically your father. This fight you were fighting...it wasn’t because you were stubborn and didn’t like to go down without a fight. It was about the fact that you were continuing on, no matter what happened. That you always braved the challenges you were put through. 

This wasn’t about salvation. This was about knowing who you were and why you were. This was about growth, about healing, about remembering why you were even here in the first place. 

And with that, you opened your eyes.

-

[PART TEN]

Permanent Tagging List/East Of Eden Tag List (these have honestly just turned into the permanent tag list laksdf;alksdf whoever was tagged for JUST east of eden, please tell me so I don’t mistakenly tag you in anything else I post): 

@amnahs9695 @cuddlysteven @voltaiire @shuris-wakanda @@euphoricgukk @prancingdestiel @frida-marie (it’s not letting me tag you) @rcbinwcrld @thatawesomenerdygirl @hi-this-is-my-blog (It’s not letting me tag you) @addicted-to-dc @crazyfreckledginger @jasonsredhoody @conspiracy-teen @an-all-write-life @maroongoon

[unavenged-robin]

Possible angst prompt: Red Hood finding Talon!Dick on the streets?? Or just Talon!Dick in general? Congrats on 2K followers that amazing!!! 💕💕

*meant to put that with my first ask so sorry about that!* “What happened to you?” -Jason Todd to Talon!Dick

Definitive angst prompt XD And thank you! ♥ This turned out to be much longer and more complicated than I had imagined at first but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway. 

Moving back to the Manor had not been an easy decision for him, and there were days - but mostly nights - when the very idea of staying even one more minute in that big, silent house, was unbearable and infuriating, and every instinct in his body would start screaming for him to run, and hide, and forget about everything and everyone. Voices inside his head would remind him that he didn’t owe anybody shit, that he wasn’t the one to blame for how the things had gone wrong, that this time he wasn’t the one who let the family down, that the silence in the house was not his fault.

But Jason has a trick for nights like those (nights like this one).

“Hey, brat!”, he calls out to the kid perched on the couch as he enters the living room. “Let’s go out.”

Damian doesn’t even raise his gaze from his phone. He does, however, raise his middle finger at him.

“Try that again and I’ll break every bone in your hand”, Jason warns amiably and then, before Damian decides to take him up to the challenge, he approaches the boy and, with a quick movement, snatches the phone away from his hands.

“Hey!”, Damian protests, immediately trying (and failing) to grab it back. Jason raises his hand over his head, way out of Damian’s reach, and smiles down at the kid.

“Come on, put on some shoes and let’s go grocery shopping”, he prompts him. “Alfred said he needed a few things for tomorrow’s lunch.”

Damian glares at him.

“I believe that Pennyworth is more than capable of getting groceries on his own, Todd”, he answers with his best snotty tone, the one that suggests he’s already doing Jason a great favor by acknowledging his presence on this Earth.

Jason snorts.

“And good thing he is. Otherwise this family would have gone extinct for some time now.”

Damian, having clearly reached the limit of his patience with Jason’s teasing - and most likely with Jason in general - stands up on the couch armrest and reaches out his hand again to recover the stolen phone, only realizing his mistake when he sees Jason grinning like the Cheshire cat. To give credit to the kid, he only groans in defeat when Jason wraps an arm around his waist and lifts him up to throw him over his shoulder, a gesture that has now become almost a habit for both of them (although with different degrees of appreciation).

“Put me down, you big oaf!”, Damian yells as usual, struggling in Jason’s hold despite the fact that he knows it will not help him one bit. Jason only laughs, readjusts his grip on the boy, and starts walking, not paying any attention to the indignant cries and insults spitted out at him.

As per script now, little fists promptly begin to storm down on every inch of his back that the kid manages to reach, but they’re not as violent as they could be, and fists are not even the best weapon Damian could use against him in the position he’s in. There are unprotected nerves that he could reach and hit if he really wanted, and a little pressure on one of those points would damage Jason in a much more serious way than a few punches, and Damian knows it as well as Jason does, since the first times he found himself flipped over his shoulder he went directly for those.

In a way, Jason supposes that it’s kind of sweet on Damian’s part to now accept the (sometimes not so) gentle bullying as if he had finally - albeit reluctantly, and definitely not without a fight - submitted to his role of younger brother.

He still tries to kick Jason in the groin, though. The little shit.

Jason half-heartedly swats the kid’s bottom in retaliation, then he peeks his head into the kitchen.

“Hey Alf, do you have a list of things to pick up for us? We’re heading out anyway.”

“No, we’re not!”, Damian yells, still kicking his feet over Jason’s shoulder. “Pennyworth, Todd took me hostage!”

Alfred stops stirring for the time needed to cast a glance at the unlikely duo standing in the doorframe of his kitchen, then raises an eyebrow at them.

“I can write down a list for you, Master Jason”, he answers after a moment. “And Master Damian, you should know that my policy in cases of kidnapping of your person by family members is of non-intervention. Unless there is evidence of ill or deadly intentions, of course.”

Damian groans and for a moment it looks as if he has accepted the inevitable defeat, then he gives a sudden jerk and goes again for Jason’s testicles, which only earns him another swat.

“Ow! You’re a bully”, the kid growls, slumping in frustration against him.

“I’m doing my job of older brother in teaching you the injustices of the world”, Jason replies, patting him in mock comfort.

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep”, Damian declares, then he huffs and lifts himself up as much as he can, making a point of sinking his elbows into Jason’s back. “Can I have my phone back at least?”

“Nope. And if you try to kick me again I’m gonna drop you on your head.”

Obviously Damian kicks him again. Obviously Jason doesn’t drop him. (But only because Alfred was watching.)

-

Supermarkets at night always have a surreal touch. Perhaps it’s because of all those bright neon lights buzzing and shining on every surfaces they find, and the crowded lanes that seem to become empty in the blink of an eye. Perhaps it’s the sound of the cart wheels that gets louder and louder as you move away from the front door, while the music in the background quietly disappears into white noise. Perhaps it’s the idea of the hidden cameras in the corners of the shop spying on him, recording his every move.

Damian doesn’t seem bothered by any of this, Jason notices. Although it could be because he’s again too much focussed on the phone that he’s just regained.

“Don’t you have the impression of being watched?”, Jason asks, and the question takes a few seconds too long to overcome for interest the colorful game that seems to absorb all of his little brother’s attention.

Once the words sink, though, Damian stops beside him and looks up, first at Jason, then at their surroundings. He maintains a pretty believable expression of teenage boredom, but his eyes are serious and attentive now, as he considers the possible implications of Jason’s remark.

It takes him all of thirty second to click his tongue at his older brother and dismiss him as a paranoid idiot.

“I mean it”, Jason insists, but Damian rolls his eyes at him and moves to grab a box of cereals from the lowest shelf.

“Is this okay?”, he asks. “Pennyworth’s note only says ‘cereals’, with no other specifications.”

Jason scratches his head and throws a few more glances all around.

“Yeah, sure”, he agrees distractedly, taking the box from the kid’s hand and throwing it into the cart. They turn the corner of another empty lane, reaching the frozen food section and the large windows facing the street outside.

The only lights out there are the familiar tall, black, and vaguely gothic - like everything else in that city - Gotham’s street lamps. All Jason can see is black asphalt, deserted sidewalks and puddles of dirty water. Nothing weird. Nothing out of place.

And yet there is this feeling in the back of his mind that makes his skin crawl. It’s been tormenting him since they stepped out of the car and he can’t shake it off. The feeling of being observed, cautiously studied by cold eyes, as if he were a prey. And not any prey either. He feels like a mouse hidden in the grass that senses the presence of an owl behind him. It’s a feeling Jason doesn’t like but one he knows.

Besides, there’s something else to it now. Something painful, something that’s mostly wishful thinking on his part, but that keeps tugging at his strings. Jason needs to know if he’s right. He needs to try, and he needs to do it alone. So he grabs Damian’s hand, pushing him forward and closer to the cashier, where a small group of people is waiting for their turn to pay.

“What are you doing?”, the boy complains, indignant.

“Here”, Jason retorts, handing the grocery list and the cart to the boy. “Pick up the milk, the eggs, and whatever junk food you think Alfred doesn’t know you keep hidden in your room, then wait for me here, okay?”

“What? No!”, Damian protests. “It was your idea to come here in the first place, you’re not going to burden me with-”

“Yes, I am”, Jason cuts him off. “It’s only gonna take five minutes, stop being a baby about it.”

An old woman in the checkout line turns around to look at them. She gives Damian an encouraging smile that succeeds in both making the boy blush and in interrupting the tantrum before it could escalate into a full fight, but also, Jason suspects, in cementing Damian’s intention to kill him in his sleep. He will have to make sure to bar the door of his bedroom tonight.

“Five minutes”, Jason promises to the kid.

“I will cut you into pieces and feed your remains to Quinn’s hyenas”, Damian promises back, still red in the face.

Jason pats him on the head and moves towards the exit, trying not to run.

-

Here’s a fact: owls are one of nature’s best killing machines. They’re created to be so. Every detail of their body is designed to make it easier for them to hunt, to better surprise their victims and to never let them escape once they’ve been captured. Owls are ruthless killers, and yet it’s quite easy to forget this little detail about them. Nowadays when people thinks of owls, they think about Harry Potter. Not here in Gotham, though. Here in Gotham people remember the murderers more than they remember movies and books. That’s evolution for you.

Jason’s not an owl, but he’s a pretty decent hunter (and killer, when needed) too. Not that his prey is making such a great effort to hide. The footsteps over his head are careful and feather-lighted, but still very detectable in the silence of the streets. And Jason can’t be sure that it’s him but at the same time he is. Because it wouldn’t make sense otherwise. And because if it isn’t him, then Jason has committed a terrible mistake in leaving Damian behind.

The sound of footsteps stops just above him. Jason looks up but the darkness mixes shapes and shadows and he can’t distinguish almost anything in it, except the profile of a fire escape staircase crawling up the side of a building. There could not be a clearer invitation, Jason thinks. So he grits his teeth and climbs the steps carefully, one hand over his gun, the deafening sound of his own heartbeat in his ears, waiting for an attack that he hopes will never come. (Because it’s him. Of course it’s him.)

He reaches the roof of the building undisturbed, and still finds only shadows waiting for him. But one of those shadows is familiar enough for Jason to breath a sigh that is both relief and something uncomfortably close to fear.

“Dick?”

A mask of black and gold slowly emerges from the darkness and it’s not his brother’s face, but it’s the closest thing to it that Jason has seen in months.

“Dick”, he breathes again, and the names almost sounds like a prayer on his lips.

He can see the Talon better now. The slim but solid body wrapped in black armor, the daggers lined up on his chest, the twitching blades in his hands. Jason swallows and takes a step forward.

“Hey.”

Silence. He doesn’t even hear the sound of a breathe coming from him (from it?). He had a conversation about this with Bruce once. Are Talons even alive?, he had asked him. It had been a sterile debate, an exercise in ethics and syntax that had ended with nothing but the usual resentment. Then Dick had gone and become one of them, and there had been no more space for any moral debate.

“What happened to you?”, Jason asks now, slowly, like he were talking to a feral animal instead of his older brother. “I mean… I know what you did. Why you did it. But why not come back? Why not let us help you after-”

He stops, licks his lips. The Talon in front of him hasn’t moved one inch, there’s no way to tell if he’s even listening to his rambling. There’s no way to tell if he is Dick either, and it kills Jason that as much as he wishes he could, he’s not capable of recognizing his own brother among all the Court of Owls’ soldiers.

“Do you remember when I first came back?”, Jason goes on, even though deep down he believes that his efforts are useless at this point. But he needs to at least try to connect with the creature in front of him, with what remains of his brother. And something of him must have remained, otherwise why would the Talon being spying on them in the first place? “Do you remember what you told me then? That I could come home? That whatever war I was fighting, we could fight it together?”

He is paraphrasing a bit, but a little white lie is not going to hurt anybody, right? No more than they already are, at least.

“I didn’t trust you. I didn’t know if you really meant it, if it was true or not. Not back then. But you should know that it’s true now”, because Jason’s ready to make sure it is. “Come home, Dick. Bruce needs you. The kids need you. They even called a truce for you, that’s how bad it is. Tim’s going crazy trying to find you, and Damian… well.”

The Talon shifts at the mention of the names, the motion almost invisible, but Jason is too focused on him not to notice it. He has no idea on what it means, though.

“You saw Damian down there, didn’t you?”, Jason insists. “The kid is heartbroken, Dick. And he’s angry. Angrier than he was when Talia dropped him here the first time, which it says something, if I can add my two cents. And you still care about him, right? So if not for the rest of us- for the rest of them, I mean, then at least do it for him, Dick. Do it for Damian?”

It comes out like begging, and Jason hates it. But if it works then whatever. He can always deny everything later.

“Dick…”

He realizes in a quick moment that it had not been the mention of the kids’ names that had bothered the Talon, but his very own. And apparently he had just reached the limit of his patience with it.

The Talon’s speed is inhumane. Jason has barely the time to see him move, let alone try to react or to defend himself. If this was a lethal attack, then his life would’ve ended in the space of a heartbeat, with a flash of red and gold. It is almost funny, the idea of dying on an anonymous rooftop, by the hand of someone that once claimed to love him. Someone he loves. Times like this, Jason feels like he can almost understand Bruce, all the things he did and still does, the burden he drags along every step Batman takes and that sometimes threatens to pull all of them down with him.

The hand that land on his chest seems to be made of stone and steel and knocks the wind out of him. He’s pushed backwards, his back collides with one of the chimneys behind him and Jason wheezes, tries to reach out a hand to stop him, to shield himself. He manages to grab the Talon’s wrist, fingers wrapping around the rough gauntlet of his uniform, but he’s not strong enough to move it, and the Talon’s other hand is crushing him, making his vision falter and waver, black spots blooming in front of him where the Talon’s face should be. He doesn’t even know where his gun is, and even if he did, he’s not sure that he would be able to use it.

One thing he still can see - that he can only see now, from this close - is that there are eyes behind the red lens. Blue eyes. His brother’s eyes. But there’s no sign of recognition in them, no familiar spark. Dick is a Talon, and the Talon is Dick, and for some reason, until a moment ago, Jason thought those were two very different things. It’s weird to only realize it now, because he’s never been one for denial when it came to things like this. People change, he supposes.

He blacks out while watching the owl mask in front of his face moving oh so slightly, as if the Talon were trying to speak (trying to ask for help), but no sound escapes Dick’s lips, and whatever the Talon is trying to tell to him, Jason doesn’t understand it.

The last thing he feels is a light brush of something cold and hard against his forehead, and then everything goes black.

-

He wakes up maybe thirty seconds, definitely less than a minute later, which is still enough time for the Talon to disappear into the night. Jason wasn’t expecting anything less. He doesn’t even bother with looking around for him.

His chest hurt, and so does his back as he carefully stands up and retrieves his gun from the floor. Getting down the stairs and dragging himself back to the supermarket is no fun, and it’s even less funnier when he has to straighten himself and pretend that nothing happened for the sake of the kid standing angrily in the street with two grocery bags at his feet and another into his arms.

The old woman from the checkout line is standing next to Damian, a grocery bag of her own in her arms, and from what Jason can see she’s smiling down at Damian and talking his ear off about something that Jason can’t grasp. Her presence is probably the only reason Jason’s greeted with a glare and a laconic “you are late”, instead of a punch and a colorful series of insults.

“Sorry, kiddo”, Jason concedes, then politely nods at the woman. “Thank you, Miss…”

The old woman gives him a smile that lacks in teeth but not in kindness.

“Only Ettie, dear.”

Jason smiles back at her, feeling a little surreal.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on my little brother, Ettie.”

“Oh, don’t mention it, dear”, the woman says. “Gotham is not a safe place for children to be left alone in the streets, you know? Especially at night.”

Jason’s shaken enough by the night’s events to actually feel guilty at her words.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Sorry”, he repeats.

They talk for a few more minutes. About what, Jason really can’t say. He forgets the words as soon as they leave his lips, but at least he has the time to get back in control of both his body and his mental faculties, and by the time the old woman waves them goodbye he feels okay again. As okay as he’s ever gonna be, at least. Damian, on his part, only grumbles under his breath for the entire time, narrowing his eyes in a glare that promises a painful revenge for every second of this torture he’s forced to endure.

“You said five minutes”, the kid remembers him through gritted teeth once Ettie is distant enough. “What were you doing? Where did you go? If you dare again to-“

“Yeah, yeah, okay”, Jason repeats. “How many times do I have to apologize to you? I just had a little setback, that’s all. It’s all good now. You got everything?”

Another furious glare.

“Of course I did.”

“Good.”

Jason sighs and rubs one hand over his face. Damian takes a break from his rightful indignation to observe him with an almost worried sulk.

“Todd? Are you okay?”, the kid asks, losing the attitude for a moment.

I think I have two broken ribs, Jason wants to answer. He doesn’t. Partly because there’s no reason to tell Damian about tonight’s encounter, and partly because there’s that feeling again. Inhuman eyes looking down at him. Silent lips mouthing off words with no sound. A trapped bird, Jason realizes. That’s what Dick looked like.

He shivers. He knows the Talon’s back. And a part of him wants to look up, but if he does then Damian would follow his gaze and see Dick too. And that’s at least one nightmare that Jason can spare to the kid.

“Todd?”, Damian asks again.

Jason only shakes his head.

“Let’s go home.”

He leans down to pick up the grocery bags from the sidewalk and has to stop midway to not let out a moan. Yeah, definitely two broken ribs. Maybe three. Damian’s hand grips his arm and the kid tilts his head to the side, studying him.

Jason opens up his mouth to reassure him, but before he can speak the distinct sound of footsteps starts again above their heads, and Damian’s training kicks in place.

“What-”

He’s going to look up, Jason realizes. And if he sees Dick he’s going to go after him, and Jason is in no condition to follow either of them or to face the Talon again. And maybe that’s what the Talon wants. (Not what Dick wants, though). So Jason does the first thing he can think of: he grabs Damian by his shirt to pull him close and, going with the momentum, he kisses him on the forehead. (Like Dick had done on the rooftop, he realizes. Or tried to do as far as the Talon had let him, at least.)

It’s a quick, rough gesture, and the kid’s so surprised by it (almost more surprised than Jason is), that he doesn’t even punch him in the face. He only takes one step back to stare at him with wide eyes.

“What the hell was that for?”, he sputters, rubbing an arm over his forehead as if to delete the shameful gesture.

Jason stands up carefully and not without pain, listening for the Talon to move again. But the footsteps are gone now, and Damian seems to have already forgotten them.

“Just a reminder”, he answers then, his voice as casual as he can manage, while he adjusts the bags into his arms.

But Damian’s not having any of it and stomps after him when Jason moves towards the car.

“A reminder of what?”, he insists, still more confused than angry. “Todd, are you on drugs? Is this why you left? Father won’t be happy to know that you’re also a junkie, in addition to everything else.”

In spite of everything, even his hurting ribs, Jason finds himself barking out a laugh at those words. He pops the trunk open and puts down the bags.

“I don’t do drugs and you should know that, you little shit.”

The kid comes up in front of him, arms crossed on his chest and thunderstorms in his eyes.

“Then what the hell was that?”, he repeats. “And I want an answer that makes sense this time.”

Jason pauses. He too wants answers that make sense. He wants to know if Dick is a Talon or if there’s a Talon that used to be Dick. He wants to know which one of the two he faced tonight and what was the meaning of that encounter in the first place. He wants for this shitty situation to be solved. He wants his brother back.

“That was a reminder of the fact that you have an older brother who loves you a lot”, he decides then, and whatever answer Damian was expecting, this was not it. To be fair, Jason wasn’t expecting it either. And he still doesn’t know if he wants to believe it. “Now get in the car. You heard what your friend Ettie said: Gotham is a dangerous place at night.”

[cas-backwards-tie]

Save Me Only To Kill Me Ch. 3

Jason Todd x Reader

Series Summary: Reader was Jason’s girlfriend before he died (she knew he was Robin), how does she react to finding out that he’s back in Gotham (a dick) and very much alive?

Chapter Summary: Seeking Damian’s help to find Jason and not RedHood, you end up in a compromising situation. Finding Jason, you try to oblige to his terms and still get what you came for. The question is... does Jason want it to?

Warnings: Tantrums, Guns, Violence, Arguing, Yelling, Threats, Stalking, Angst.

Catch Up Here: Chapter Two | Series Masterlist

A/N: *Flashbacks are in Italics, as well as thoughts* which means you’ll need to pay extra attention to the time-shifts. Writing this, it was a little rushed but I hope it’s still good... in fact detail wise, I think it’s pretty spectacular but honestly my writing and anyone’s can always be improved. I feel like I made Jason and the Reader make up too quickly but who knows... maybe there’s a reason for that.

“Look… Damian I’m not asking for you to take out Black Mask. I just need your help to find my friend, okay? He’s changed his name and address and just, everything. So I have almost no idea where to start looking and I need your help. But we need to do this during the daytime.”

“Why in the daytime?”

“Because if we go at night then Bruce will get suspicious of our whereabouts and also, then my friend will be expecting us.” Damian seemed to approve as he nodded.

“Let me get my stuff and we’ll talk over plans for tomorrow!” 

Rushing back to the entrance to the roof you slam the door open, practically jumping down the stairs as fast as you can to get down to the floor Damian had last told you he was on. I’m coming Damian, just hang on you think to yourself, hoping that Damian won’t spew out any information regarding his purpose of being in the room. Reaching Damian’s supposed location you trying banging on the door rapidly, hoping the owner will open the door. No response, you contemplate your options until you hear Damian’s voice from beyond the door. Without thinking only one rational approach comes to mind as you firehouse kick the door open. 

“Did you just fire-fight kick, my door down?” He turns around, gun in hand, ready to shoot but hesitates a second too long.

“Jason!”

“Y/N?” 

Damian glared at you in contempt from across the patio table. Crossing his arms, Damian attempted to give you a look that could kill, but much to his misfortune it didn’t seem ‘looks that can kill’ was a power he’d acquired.

“Will that be all?” The waitress asked before I gave her a nod, throwing in a quick ‘thank you’ before she’d left. 

“Okay yes, not my best idea but you look cute if that helps any.” You shrug your shoulders with your palms up as you reach down to take a sip from your lemonade.

Damian seethes in silence before whisper-yelling, thankfully trying not to blow our undercover gig. “I don’t want to look cute, I should look deadly!” Damian bared his teeth and hit the table lightly with his clenched fists, truthfully looking like a child throwing a tantrum... which could also be an accurate assessment if we’re being real here. Damian’s fists meeting the table caused a few stares, but noticing the attention Damian switches his persona into business mode and keeps it together.

“Yeah... but deadly doesn’t get the ladies, my friend... unless you’re talking about deadly handsome, now that’s a whole nother level.” Searching the premise across the street I try to keep an eye out for our target. Watching the entrance as I sip my lemonade, waiting for our appetizers to appear.

“So... are you gonna give me a picture so I can see what the guy looks like?” Damian asks  , sipping his water as you shift your gaze back to him.

“No.... it’s not important that you know what he looks like. That’s not your job in this. Your job is to help me track down his apartment and check inside for any clues... got it?” After the words came out of my mouth I almost regretted them, as they sounded very demanding and authoritative, and yet... I wouldn’t take them back. 

“Alright... geez.” Damian mumbles as he follows my gaze to the building across the street.

About an hour passes before the man comes out of the building... Having already paid for our appetizers and drinks we slip out of the restaurant and follow him.

Hiding among the crowds of people rushing about since work just got out, I pull my hat further down my head and Damian tugs his coat tighter around his body.  Damian doesn’t know what Jason looks like so that leaves Damian to follow me.

As we continue to walk, Jason seems to shift uncomfortably, almost as if he knows we’re here. Looking over his shoulder you quickly look down at Damian and pretend to make conversation as you walk, grabbing his hand “pretend to be my son.” Damian nods, understanding.

“It’s not necessary that you hold my hand.”

“But it makes it more believable.” Damian tilts his head side to side and then nods.

“I suppose so”

Keeping a longer distance between Jason, we follow him until he reaches building and walks in. “Did you bring it?”

Damian reaches into his backpack and pulls out a pair of what looks to be normal binoculars. “Of course, Y/L/N, I said I would... do you not trust my words?”

“I mean, yeah, but you never know... sometimes people just forget.” You shrug before giving Damian more direction. “Pretend you’re crying and then look over my shoulder, okay?”

Damian pretends to cry, making you crouch down to his height, covering him as he peers over your shoulder at the building with his binoculars. After a few moments of searching Damian puts them down. “Come on, let’s go.”

“It would seem as though this is his apartment building, as well as I saw which one he went into.”

“Fantastic!” You cheer. “Now let’s get you back to school and hopefully study hall just ended.”

“Tomorrow? Same time?” Damian questions, as I reaffirm his answer with a nod.

The next day we went back to Jason’s apartment, knowing what time he’d be back in, what time his job ended and how long it took for him to get home.

It was around two thirty when we arrived, giving us a copious amount of time to search and gather clues. “I’ll keep a look out, you just check for any clues, alright?” 

“Clues regarding what, exactly?” Shit. I knew I’d gotten to close to revealing the truth.

“That he’s working for Black Mask... weapons, ammo, even just a leather jacket or a helmet of some sort. Alright?”

“Okay... but honestly any citizen in this part of town would most likely own a weapon Y/N... are you sure?”

“Just please.... do it for me. I know him and I’m telling you that there will be obvious signs if it’s true.”

“Fine.... tt.” Damian huffs as he walks off, scaling the side of the building to arrive at the correct window.

Walking out of the alley, I turn into the building, arriving at the front desk. “I haven’t seen you here before... what’s your business here?”

“I’m visiting a friend,” you say cheerfully as you hope your answer will pass.

The lady seems skeptical, “do you know which apartment he lives in?”

“He told me what floor and just said to text him once I got here.”

“Alright...” The lady backed off, allowing you to further enter the building, yet still seeming skeptical of your presence and truthfulness.

Not letting her demeanor deter you from your goal you reach the stairwell, looking up you just now realize how many flights of stairs you’ll have to climb. “Goddammit!” stomping your foot you take a deep breath before starting the awaiting journey.

By the fifth floor you hear your walkie-talkie go off, signaling that Damian was trying to communicate with you. “Are you there yet?” You could’ve sworn that the little Demon Spawn was watching and laughing at you from some hidden vent if you hadn’t known where his location was. Rolling your eyes you reach for the walkie-talkie in your coat pocket and drag it out, resting at the platform you’d just gotten to the top of. Catching your breath, you press down on the comm button and begin speaking in a hushed tone in case anyone were to be following you- the one who was supposed to be following, not being followed... but precautions are always a good thing. 

“I’m... almost there...” you manage to sputter out as you take your finger off the comm button and drop the walkie back into your coat pocket, bracing yourself mentally for the next... looking up.... six flights of stairs. Damn! Why’d Jason have to live in such a tall building? 

Once you reach the top you think you really should have used the elevator... but at the same time, damn that was good exercise... sure as hell gonna have nice calves tomorrow.... well, maybe not considering they’ll probably be sore. Damian talked your ear off on the walkie as he talked through everything he was seeing.

Opening the door at the top of the stairwell you are taken aback by a zenith, which only seemed more powerful because of the height which the building was at. “So far, no sight of the target.” I interrupt him on the walkie, making him go back to being silent, which was good in this case.

Watching the pedestrians below I check my watch. How has it already been two hours? We just got here! Damian hasn’t contacted me for a while which can only mean either things are well... or they’re not. 

Suddenly I hear my walkie burst to life with crackles and sounds you would hear when your phone loses connection. “C-code red! Code red!” I hear Damian yell over the crashing. Shit! I knew it was getting late but I still didn’t see any sign of Jason... he probably used the back entrance, fuck!

Rushing to the stairwell’s entrance to the roof I slam the door open, practically jumping down the stairs as fast as you can to get down to the floor Damian had last told you he was on. I’m coming Damian, just hang on you think to yourself, hoping that Damian won’t spew out any information regarding his purpose of being in the room. Reaching Damian’s supposed location you trying banging on the door rapidly, hoping the owner will open the door. No response, you contemplate your options until you hear Damian’s voice from beyond the door. Without thinking only one rational approach comes to mind as you firehouse kick the door open.

“Did you just fire-fight kick, my door down?” He turns around, gun in hand, ready to shoot but hesitates a second too long.

“Jason!”

“Y/N?”

Stepping in front of Damian I guard him, hoping for my life that Jason won’t shoot me. Putting my hands up I stare at him in wonder and curiosity. It’s been five years... five whole years. He’s so much taller, granted he was already tall when we’d been together his eyes seem to hold so much more pain, his whole demeanor seems off but that’s to be expected when they’d told me he changed.

“H-how did you find me?” Jason quickly speaks, looking down at Damian instead of me.

“It doesn’t matter... All that matters is-”

“Is what? That you found me? Well, tough news Sweetheart but you didn’t... You need to go.”

“What do you mean? I found you fair and square, Jason Todd.”

“Y/N, this is not what you said you would be discussing.” Damian whispers to you, finally breaking the rope that bound his wrists to a chair, letting him stand up free, rubbing his gloved wrists.

“What’s he talking about? What did you tell him?” Jason starts to inch forward, practically growling at me. I want to shrink and run away but I know if I never confront him then this will be it.

“I just got him to help me find you Jason, that’s all.”

Jason puts his hand up, “Does Bruce know about this? Is that why you’re here? Did he put you up to-”

“No! I’m not one of them, Jason! They said you were alive and I overheard- Damian is the best detective I know and I had to see you. You could’ve killed me, you know that right?” The hurt and pain from having to grieve over him all those years ago comes back... you’re supposed to be dead...

“I saw The Replacement on the next building, they wouldn’t have let you die.” Jason’s voice calms down as he almost sighs with his words.

“The Replacement? Y/N....” Damian tries to speak but is interrupted. 

“He doesn’t know... huh?” Jason gives no room for an answer, “Figures... wouldn’t want anyone to know about his greatest failure now, would he?” Jason  huffs, laughing a bit to myself.

“You are NOT a failure, Jason... you never were and you aren’t now.” I step closer to him, making him whip around to face me.

“Yeah? Well maybe not to you because you were too blind to see it.” Jason spits out harshly, making me shove him.

“MAYBE I WAS! Maybe I gave up everything for you Jason Todd and now I want answers! You didn’t come back... you didn’t even say anything! You dissed me then knocked me out of a window, telling me to have a ‘nice flight’! Fuck you!” 

“Wait- no- he’s-” Damian speaks to himself

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you’d want... wouldn’t you?”

“You’re so fucking immature!”

“He’s the RedHood- you LIED to me Y/N!”

“Damian, not now!” I cry, looking towards him pleading to him with my eyes, hoping he won’t tell Bruce.

“Damian I swear to god if you tell Bruce!”

“But he’s looking for him, Y/N! He’s the bad guy!”

“He’s not! Just...” I sigh, dragging a hand down my face, “give me like two hours! I’ll tell Bruce.”

“Fine... tt.”

“Says you and everybody else!” Closing my eyes, desperately trying not to give into the rage I feel threatening to burst from behind my eyes I try to calm down. Letting out a big breath I compose myself.

“I love you, Jason...” my voice comes out weak, quiet and on the verge of tears “I always have and I always will... please let me in. Talk to me... don’t leave me like this please.”

Running a hand through his hair, something that Jason would always do when he was trying to keep himself together he clenches his jaw and teeth, finally responding “Don’t you get it Y/N? I already have left you. You don’t love me... you love him... and I’m not him anymore... You need to leave now, before Bruce starts to get curious of both of your whereabouts.” Jason walks over to the door which hangs awkwardly on the hinges due to my kick from earlier. Opening the door he holds a hand out, gesturing for us to get the hell out.

“Damian you’re free to go. Thank you for your help.” I put my hand on Damian’s back, pushing him forward. 

“I cannot leave you in his presence Y/N... he’s the RedHood. He’s not to be trusted.” Damian stands his ground, crossing his arms.

“Well I trust him, so go!” I shoo Damian away, making him look at me with sorrow in his eyes. “Damian I really need you to trust me here...”

“Nooo...” Damian furrows his brows.

“GO!” I push him out the door.  Shoving the door closed with Jason standing surprised. “Look at me! I don’t know what the hell is going on with you but I’m here for you Jason... I went through all the effort of finding you, please don’t shut me out.”

“You’ll only get in the way.”

“Of you and Bruce? Yeah, have fun with that sausage party.”

“Ew! What the fuck, Y/N? That’s disgusting... are you kidding me?” by the time Jason’s ending his sentence he’s laughing.

I smile and shrug my shoulders with my palms facing up, “Look... I get that you and Bruce don’t exactly get along, but Jay I missed you... a lot. A hell of a lot and if you don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore... I know it’s been some years and maybe you have other people now and maybe you even have a girlfriend but Jason please be my friend...” I look up at him, not knowing when I shifted my gaze to the floor. His eyes are a much brighter blue than when we’d first met but they seem heavy in the sense that you can visibly see how much pain and grief he’s carrying within him if you really pay attention.

“Oh Doll... I don’t think we could ever be ‘just friends.’” Jason smirks as he moves his arms to be crossed. I outstretch my arms for a hug, hoping he’ll oblige me this once.

“Is that a yes? Are we back together, then?” a hopeful smirk displays itself across my face as I step forward, leaning into Jason’s crossed arms, wrapping my own around his much larger body. Jason finally moves his arms to reciprocate for only a moment before he pushes me out, holding me at a distance with his arms outstretched.

“No.” My smile turns into a frown, “I mean yes... it’s just... Y/N, I’m not him anymore... I’m not that boy, I’m not him... and I never will be, Sweetcheeks... as much as I want to, for you... I can’t.”

“Then don’t.” I give him a sad smiling, trying my best to show my understanding. “All I’m asking is you give ‘us’, a chance. We’ll start over. The new, Jason Todd and Y/N Y/L/N... a fresh start.... isn’t that what you wanted?”

“So you’ve been paying attention to my campaigning, have you?”

“Well Bruce is hot on your tail, or case anyways... so I’ve been half-assedly paying attention until I overheard them say it was you. Then I read the whole thing and tried to think of what to do next, but you know... Bruce banned me from looking for you.” My arm is wrapped around his forearm, slowing rubbing back and forth in a soothing motion.

“And you still tried to find me? You even hired someone to help you? Damn... that’s hot.” Jason winks at me before continuing, “Or that just shows how desperate you are for my affection and therefore I should be worried about you possibly having attachment issues...” Jason taps his index finger on his chin for emphasis and the look that he’s in thought. 

My eyebrows furrow and I give him a look... “Really?”

“Nah, I’m just kidding.” Jason ruffles my hair before letting go of me completely and stepping back.

“Okay good.” I smile with my mouth closed, happy that he’s not lost his sense of humor... if anything it’s actually gotten much more heavy in his personality, which it’s bad that I can tell from only having talked with him for about fifteen minutes.

“Y/N... I don’t know how we’re going to make this work out... I still have plans and big plans they are, but I don’t want you to be seen with me... not now. I have too many big-wigs after me right now and there’s no way Bruce or I will let you get hurt.”

“Says the man who pushed me out of a window that was at least four stories up.” I say teasingly.

“I’d say it was three stories if we’re being real... and you’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“nope.”

“That’s what I thought... good ol’ Y/N hasn’t changed a bit.”

“I think you’re wrong about that.” I smirk up at him, playfully pushing on his chest.

“Well I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” He winks before leading me by the small of my back to the door.

“Here... I’ll put my number in your phone and you can call me so I’ll have yours. How bout’ that?” He says, reaching into my pocket and grabbing my phone already knowing what my answer would be.

“Sure” I say softly, wishing I didn’t have to leave him alone like this. I know that they said he was bad now but I honestly don’t see it... Jason Todd never was or will be evil... he’s just misguided, mislead and misfortuned as he’s alone and depressed and obviously vengeful. Jason is obviously deeply hurt and it’s not that I think I can’t help, but I also know that if I’m the only one helping then he’ll get nowhere. I know I need to talk to Bruce.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jason grabs my hand, facing it towards him as he opens my palm. “Because Y/N I’m not the same person I used to be... I’ve done things and seen things that would haunt you forever... You’re not safe with me and I don’t deserve you by any means.” Jason takes over a much more serious tone as he’s talking.

Placing the phone in my palm I close my hand around it, bringing it down to my level and call him. His phone rings in his pocket before he takes it out and answers, only to hang up. “I’m sure...” Jason looks as if he’s about to speak, but I interrupt him as I grab his hand, “please don’t make me question it. You deserve love just as much as anyone else does in this world Jason and perhaps you don’t believe it but I do.... and for now, that’s all that matters. Please, call me whenever. For any reason, I don’t mind. Please promise me you’ll call... or at least text.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that...” Jason trails off.

“Then we’ll work up to it, alright?” I move my hand up to pat his shoulder lightly.

“Okay.”

“I don’t want to go but I know you’ll make me so please... try to stay safe for me, because otherwise we can’t go out on our first date! And text me the details and we’ll go on a date soon.”

“How bout’ Friday? Does that work for you?”

“Yeah... Friday night it is, then.”

“Alright. Y/N, I’m sorry for everything but you really shouldn’t have come looking for me. There’s a reason I didn’t come back to you, or Bruce or Dick... there’s a reason I was acting that way and it’s because-”

“You didn’t want me to find you... I get it.”

“But you don’t... and we’ll talk about it another time. Goodnight, stay safe...”

“I’ll try but it’s honestly really late already.”

“I don’t think you’ll have too much to worry about.” Jason winks.

“What do you mean? Did you-”

“I saw that kid outside the window facing the street- he’s waiting for you... what a loser.” Jason scoffs.

I laugh, “Oh my gosh... well, now you know that he doesn’t trust you.”

“Seems so.”

“I just wanna say this last thing... Jason, I never stopped loving you and I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry every day... I thought about you every single goddamn day, including that night where you saved me... only to try and kill me-”

“I was not trying to kill you, pfft.”

“-and I want you to know that. I love you Jason Peter Todd, no matter what’s changed and I’m so happy and glad and thankful that you’re alive and back and we can start over.” I kiss the back of his hand, “Please remember me when you’re having tough times, please remember that I’m here for you and if anything happens, anything at all- feel free to call me or show up at my window. I’ll be here for you always-”

“and forever... just like old times.”

“just like old times... Goodnight, sleep well.” I take one last glance over my shoulder at him before exiting and watching as he closes the door.

Exiting the building I see the same old lady watching me with a suspicious eye as I get to the door, “you were up there a long time... must have been a good visit.” I mumble an ‘Mmmhhmmm’ as I exit, not really caring what she thinks of me or who she thinks I might be.

“Did you really have to stay and watch like a hawk the whole time?” I give Damian a side-glance as we walk down the street. Damian was no longer in his Robin costume, having stowed it in his backpack if needed, but not necessary at the moment.

“I had to be ready for action any moment, in case something went awry. He cannot be trusted Y/N.”

“We’ll see...” I mumble to myself as it begins to rain. We settle ourselves under the cover of the bus-stop shelter, protected from the seemingly endless heaps of rain that seemed to want to drench us in it’s onslaught of heaviness.

“We have to talk to Bruce.”

“We must speak to Bruce.”

Damian and I spoke at the same time as we both sat on the bench, staring ahead as the sound of rain slamming the pavement filled our ears.

[camsthisky]

“No. Don’t you dare shut me out!” with jason and dick?

Anonymous asked: For the angst prompts, #5 “your everything going to me, yet I’m nothing to you” for jason and dick

I can’t sleep because this kept taunting me, so I had to write it. I really, really tried with Jason, but he’s always been one of the hardest characters for me to nail down, and I hope I did him justice. Thanks for the prompts!

Jason bangs on the wood door infront of him. “Open up, Dick!” he yells, and he waits. But like the last twotimes he was here, the door remains closed, no noise or movement behind it.“Dammit, Dick! If you don’t open the door right now I’m going to break in!”

He’s sure there are neighborslistening to his every word, but right now, Jason’s too angry to care. This isthe third time that Jason’s been to Dick’s apartment in the last week, andevery single time nobody’s answered. He knowsDick’s in there. Tim had just visited Dick this morning. So that begged thequestion, why isn’t Dick answering his door when it’s Jason?

“Dick!” Jason yells again. “I knowyou’re in there! Just let me in already!”

The door stays shut. God, Jasondoesn’t even know why he’s here other than the fact that Alfred had asked himto check up on Dick, who has a slight cold. Jason swears the guy becomes agoddamn baby when he’s sick.

Finally, Jason’s had enough withthe waiting, and he bends down to unlock the door with a lock pick—except, it’salready unlocked. The door wings open easily, and Jason gets a bad feeling inhis stomach at the implications.

“Dick?” he calls, walking into theapartment and shutting—and locking­—thedoor behind him. “Dick, where are you?”

Dick’s not in the kitchen, not inthe living room, or the bedroom. Then, when Jason peeks into the bathroomconnected to Dick’s room, his blood runs cold. There, lying on the bathroomtiles face up, is Dick. He’s unconscious and extremely pale.

“Shit,” Jason says, sliding to hisknees next to Dick’s body. He taps Dick’s cheek experimentally with one hand,the other probing the back of Dick’s head for any injuries. “Dick, wake up.Come on, Dickface.”

But Dick doesn’t respond, and Jasonfinds a sizable bump on the back of Dick’s head. He blows out a sigh andfumbles with his phone, dialing the number of the only person he can handleright now and putting it on speaker.

“Hello?”Tim asks, sounding confused.

“What are you doing right now?”Jason wonders, tapping Dick’s cheek again. No response, but he doesn’t want toshake Dick in case there’s another injury he doesn’t know about. “And how fastcan you get to Dick’s apartment?”

“Uh,pretty fast, I guess,” Tim says. “I’mright around the corner. Is there a reason I’m going to Dick’s apartment? Is heokay?”

“He’s—Hey, Dickface. Welcome to theland of the living,” Jason says, half-relieved, half-mocking as Dick’s babyblues crack open. They flutter weakly and just when it looks like Dick’s aboutto pass out again, Jason grabs Dick’s chin and just holds it. “No! Dick, lookat me. You need to stay awake until I can figure out how bad your concussionis.”

“Concussion?”Tim asks, but Jason ignores that in lieu of Dick’s croaked, “Jason?”

“Yeah, Goldie,” Jason says, hisvoice going all gentle and soft of its own accord. “It’s me. Can you stay awakefor me?”

Dick blinks lethargically, and ittakes him a few seconds before he says an uncertain, “Yeah.”

Jason’s stomach sinks, because he’spretty sure that Dick’s not all that aware of what’s happening around him. He’sprobably severely concussed, and Jason thinks he should probably call Dr.Thompkins.

“Askhim what he remembers,” Tim all but orders.

“I know how to check for aconcussion,” Jason snaps, and Dick barely even responds. His pupils are allwonky, and there’s a confused look to his face that seals the deal. Concussion.Bad one. He takes it slow, asking Dick questions, giving Dick a word tomemorize and then asking more questions before asking for that word again. Dickis barely coherent throughout the entire thing. Tim pitches in every once in awhile, too.

Finally, Tim says, “I’m outside Dick’s building. I’ll be up ina second.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jason says, and hangsup, not sure why he’d called theReplacement of all people. He’s exhausted and he hasn’t even been here halfan hour yet. Not how he’d thought he’d start his afternoon, but he should haveknown. Dick has never been able to do things the normal way. Not even a cold. Hasto add a concussion to the list, too.

“Jason?” Dick asks, cloudy eyessearching his own. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m supposed to be checking up onyou, you moron,” Jason says, feeling some thread of anger run through himagain. “I was gonna feed you soup and force you to lie down for a few hours,but instead you had to brain yourself on the floor of your own bathroom. Whofucking does that?”

“I…what?”

Jason forces himself to let go ofhis anger. Dick probably can’t even hold onto Jason’s words right now, and itwon’t do any good to rant and rave like he wants to.

“No, Jason,” Dick says, even thoughit’s weak. But there’s this glint in his eyes that pushes past the confusion.Figures. Even concussed Dick can’t let go of that big brother instinct thatdrives him. “Don’t you dare shut me out.”

“Now’s not the best time to bediscussing this,” Jason says. He doesn’t even know why he’s just sitting here right now. He should begetting ice packs, making sure Dick can move his legs and toes and everythingelse in his body. But yet, he can’t make himself move. He stays where he is,right next to Dick. “You can barely stay awake.”

“I can….” But Dick trails off,blinks rapidly, and then he looks up after Jason. “What—What were we talkingabout?”

“You know,” Jason says, becausehe’s sure that Dick will probably remember exactly none of this, “Sometimes I think that you’re everything to me,Dick. You and Bruce. Even the rest of this messed up dysfunctional family. But,even though I think that, it feels like I’m nothing to any of you.”

“You’re not,” Dick says, but he’sstill blinking. He has a clumsy grip on Jason’s sleeve, though, and Jason can’thelp but sigh.

“I said sometimes, idiot,” Jasonhuffs.

“But that last part,” Dick says,opening and closing his mouth like a fish, and after a few minutes of searchingfor words, Dick closes his eyes in frustration. “I’m tired.”

“Stay awake,” Jason repeats.

“I know.” Dick doesn’t seem to haveenough energy to open his eyes back up again. Still, Dick’s brow creases, andhe’s gained some semblance of realityback, because he doesn’t seem to be so out of sorts anymore. “Tim…. I’mpretty sure Tim was here, right?”

“He’s—”

“Dick!” Tim yells from the frontroom, the door slamming shut behind him. Jason watches with a raised eyebrow ashe sprints to the bathroom doorway. He catches sight of Dick on the floor andsends Jason a glare. “Did you not move him to his bed?”

“Hell no,” Jason says. “He’sfucking heavy.”

“‘M not heavy,” Dick murmurs. “Bruce can carry me. I think.”

“When you were twelve,” Jason shoots back before he turns to Tim again. “Besides,there was a better chance of keeping him awake of he’s lying on the tiles. Andit’s closer to the toilet if he throws up or something.”

Tim glares at him. “You just madeup those reasons off the top of your head. Just now.”

“Doesn’t mean they aren’t true.”

“You’re such a—”

“No,” Dick moans, clutching Jason’ssleeve just a bit harder. “You two aren’t allowed to fight when my head hurts.”

Jason and Tim both deflate, and Timmurmurs a small, “Sorry.”

Jason rolls his eyes, though. Nowthat Tim is here, even though he’s younger and probably a little lessexperienced, he feels just a bit more relaxed. He heaves a big sigh and tellsDick, “You know, if you’d just let Alfred take care of you, this wouldn’t havehappened.”

Dick’s eyebrows crumple. “I can’t rememberwhy, but I can’t go to the manor.”

“Damian,” Tim tells Jason. “Hedoesn’t want Damian to get sick, so he basically banished himself from themanor. Damian’s not allowed to visit, either.”

“And we are?” Jason asksincredulously.

Tim shrugs. “Damian’s…somethingelse to Dick.”

Yeah, something that Jason and Timaren’t, it seems like. Jason pretends that doesn’t hurt him as much as itactually does to think that way, and he squares his shoulders. “Are you goingto take care of him now?” he asks Tim. “I’ve got better things to do thanmonitor him all night long.”

Tim blinks in alarm. “Wait what? You aren’t seriously leaving mealone with him while he’s concussed, are you? Because that’s shitty. Even foryou, Jason.”

Jason tries to shrug off the guiltof that, but he can’t quite manage it. “Call Bruce or something.”

“No,”Dick hisses, latching even tighter toJason’s sleeve like it’ll be enough to keep Jason from leaving. Honestly,though, it might just be. “No one call…Bruce. Just—I’ll be fine on my own. I’llsleep it off.”

Jason snorts. “You can’t sleep offa concussion, Dick.”

“Watch me,” Dick snarls, pulling onJason’s sleeve and getting himself about an inch off the floor before his facegoes pale white, and he drops down to the tile again, heaving for breath. “Bad…badidea. That was a bad idea.”

“Just stay on the floor,” Tim says,coming down to kneel next to Jason.

“Jesus,” Jason sighs. “You’re sopathetic that even I feel bad aboutleaving you.”

“You’re staying?” Tim asks, lookinghopeful and skeptical, and Jason can’t help but sigh, because Dick looks tooout of it again to notice the conversation happening not even three feet abovehim. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Jason gazes down at Dick. “I’llstay. But just because even the Riddler would take one look at Dick and escorthim to the hospital.”

If Jason’s being honest, though, it’sbecause even if he feels like absolutely nothing in Dick’s eyes, Dick seems tomean something to him. And he can’t—he can’t really abandon him, no matter whathe’d said before. Dick’s his brother, after all, even if it seems to go moreone way than the other. That’s fine, though. It just seems to be a pattern inhis life he’s doomed to repeat.

His mother. Bruce. And now Dick.

Well, Jason can take it. If hecould take death and come back kicking, then he can take this, too.