#the first time damian tried to stab someone he was surprised that they laughed and pulled out their own sword from a bookshelf to spar

[puppetmaster13u]

Batman Au where the Waynes are a Gotham-based branch of the Addams family

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

The Crown Found in Rose Thorns (Part 2) - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Timothy Drake, bits of Steph, Jason and Dick Summary: Jonathan and Damian go on their first date. A/N: I just think about royal princes jon and damian a lot, mmkay. also, those flowers don’t ever wilt, Damian will find out. maybe it’ll be important later, if I remember that detail.

Ao3

~~

There was a giddy energy around the castle this morning. He felt it as he walked through the halls. The servants were all chattering amongst themselves, smiling in his direction whenever he passed by.

The prince has a date! They were all saying. The prince has chosen a suitor!

Damian could only roll his eyes. Hardly.

He found his hand had drifted to the hilt of the sword on his hip as he entered the courtyard. Perhaps he could challenge that infuriating Jonathan to a duel? It was only appropriate – he tried to mock Damian in front of his court.

But he ended up shaking his head. Knowing what little he did of this prince of Krypton, the simpleton might enjoy that.

As he neared the gates, he felt himself give an involuntary sigh. It must have been loud, as the one waiting there turned and grinned.

Almost as annoying as Jonathan of Krypton – his brother, Timothy.

“Don’t tell me you’re my chaperone for this…event.” Damian called.

Timothy kept his smirk. “Well, since you sound so enthused by the prospect, I can ask to be.”

“Don’t.” Damian scolded as he reached him. “I don’t need protection. Especially against the knight.”

“While I don’t doubt your skills, we don’t know that.” Timothy reminded. “He could be working for Ra’s.”

“He claimed to be the child of Father’s ally. Or did Richard not tell you that?” Damian hummed, staring out into the bustling streets. A small child waved towards them. He smiled and waved back. “Or do you just not believe him?”

“You do?” Timothy raised an eyebrow. “Prince Damian of Gotham, believing people at their word? Surely Father has taught you better than that.”

Damian felt heat in his face. “Of course I don’t. But I also know he doesn’t fit Grandfather’s brand of agent. He’d use someone we wouldn’t expect. A fortune teller or shop keep. An old cook or cleaning woman. A young, strong-looking knight who draws so much attention? Seems…implausible.”

“Strong-looking, hm? And here, Richard told me you only agreed to meet with him today as a barbaric game.” Timothy questioned mischievously. Damian pursed his lips and punched Timothy’s arm. “Ow! Hey!”

“Frankly I trust Sir Jonathan to not be an agent more than I trust the likes of…of Cassandra’s suitor.” Damian mumbled. “Why don’t you spend more time investigating that bard woman? How can you be so sure she’s not an agent? That’s exactly the type of person Grandfather would use. No direct ties to me, and could harm someone else in our family in the process. Exactly what Ra’s al Ghul would want.”

“Stephanie has been vetted. She was vetted long before she and Cassandra were romantically involved.” Timothy explained. He laughed then. “Speaking of her – back to your original question. No, I am not your chaperone today. I’m here waiting for Stephanie.”

“Why?” Damian demanded. “Does Cassandra know?”

“Yes, she does. She’ll be joining us.” Timothy nodded. “Stephanie is a bard, like you said. So she hears the stories. She knows things.” He looked towards Damian. “We’re hoping she knows things about the Kingdom of Krypton and a certain prince.”

Damian crossed his arms. “So…who is my chaperone, then? Surely there is one.”

“Not directly. You and Jonathan will still be alone in general. He’ll just follow in the distance.” Timothy shrugged. “And it’s Jason, I believe.”

Jason, the raunchy brother. He had almost as little manners as Jonathan himself. Always yelling and cussing. No filter, no politeness. A rough man who drank too much.

He’d almost prefer Timothy.

“And I believe Richard will be joining him later in the day, or switching. But I cannot remember.” Timothy suddenly stepped forward. Damian looked into the crowd and saw a blonde woman in a purple travelling cloak gliding towards them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The woman came forward, and bowed when she was close enough. Damian gave her a head nod in return as Timothy turned to guide her into the courtyard. They were halfway to the castle when Timothy turned back.

“And Damian, don’t forget!” He called. “If Sir Jonathan does anything untoward,” He pulled his own blade out of its sheath halfway. “You stab to kill.”

Stephanie laughed. Damian grinned in response, and turned towards the town, making his way towards the forest.

~~

He caught sight of Jason a few times on his walk. Riding his gray horse lazily fifty or so yards away. The one time, Jason saw him watching, and gave him a cheeky wink.

Damian had scowled and tried to walk faster, almost hoping to get lost in the crowd. Just because he had to have a chaperone, didn’t mean he couldn’t make the job worth their while.

As he entered the clearing on the edge of the forest – the agreed meeting place – he slowed. Jonathan was already there.

He wasn’t in his armor today, but rather a simple tunic and pants, similar to Damian’s own outfit, just minus the tied vest. He was sitting on a fallen log, fiddling with the flowers popping up around his boots.

Damian did not see a weapon on him.

Along with the change of outfit, his demeanor seemed different from the day before as well. His face was no longer sharp confidence and sunny mischievousness. Now, his eyes were half-lidded as he relaxed, face thoughtful as his head tilted and he examined the flowers.

Damian ignored the sudden feeling in his chest. Because it wasn’t annoyance or haughtiness or even suspiciousness like he expected.

Without warning, a bird swooped down from overhead, cawing as it brushed along Damian’s hair. The noise made Jonathan look up, and once he recognized Damian, he smiled.

“…She sure seems to like you.” Jonathan laughed as he stood. “Hello, Your Highness.”

“Hello.” Damian mumbled, holding his arm out. The bird fluttered down to land on his elbow. “Waiting long?”

“No, not long.” Jonathan scratched awkwardly at his hair. “…I tend to arrive places early when I’m nervous.”

Damian snorted. “You? Nervous? Your showing yesterday implied you didn’t know the meaning of the word.”

Jonathan let out a gentle laugh. “Well…I had to get your attention somehow.” When Damian glanced up at him, he found himself unable to hold the gaze, so looked to the bird. “Is she yours?”

“No, she’s wild.” Damian assured, even as he pet gently at the bird’s head. “I…spend a lot of time out here. Feed them on occasion.” He looked towards the bird and smiled. “She must remember me.”

“Well, you are hard to forget.” Jonathan mumbled. Damian had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to hear it, so didn’t push the issue…yet. Instead, he let Jonathan admire the bird for a moment, then shook his elbow and pushed the bird back into the sky. She flew off with another caw. “…Lead the way?”

Damian nodded and moved down the path. Jonathan stayed behind him for a few moments, before jogging to catch up.

“I…um.” He let out a small cough. “I don’t mean to alarm you.”

Damian glanced at him.

“There’s a man on a horse following us.” Jonathan whispered. “…Would you like me to deal with him?”

Damian stopped walking and turned. In the expanse of trees, he could see the shadow of Jason, chaperoning as promised.

Damian smirked.

“I should.” He called loudly. “I should absolutely let you dispatch of our stalker.” He heard Jason’s horse snort as Jason turned her away.

Jonathan glanced between him and the trees. “I…think I am missing something.”

Damian laughed. “My family is overprotective.” He explained. “With this��situation with my grandfather, they are chaperoning my every movement, including with potential suitors. That’s merely my brother, Jason.”

Jonathan hummed. “I’d heard about that.” He sighed. “I’m…sorry.”

Damian shrugged. “My grandfather has always been ruthless. Apparently tried to kill my father when he and mother agreed to marry. Why anyone is surprised he’s come after me is beyond me.”

Jonathan didn’t respond. They walked in silence for a few moments. Damian’s bird friend let out another cry as she flew above them once more.

“That was why you came, though, isn’t it? For all that glory?” Damian asked. “You know, to be the one to succeed in protecting the youngest prince of Gotham?”

“No.” Jonathan said simply. “I came for you.” When Damian looked at him, he was uncupping his hands, revealing a small flower. He twisted the stem into his fingers and held it out. “Just for you.”

Damian stared between the flower and Jon’s face, then back again.

“…You weren’t holding that before.” Damian whispered. He looked up again. “I know you weren’t.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Jonathan smiled and held the flower out. Damian took it without thinking, cataloguing that the mischievousness was back in Jonathan’s brilliant purple eyes.

Curious.

“I will admit, though, that hearing about your mother’s call for a suitor did spur my action.” Jonathan admitted wistfully. “Gave me a reason to return to Gotham and try my luck.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Many times. My family travelled often when I was younger. We were in and out of kingdoms all the time.” Jonathan chuckled. “How my father met and befriended your father, I still don’t know. It’s a story he won’t tell.”

“Old men love their secrets.” Damian agreed. He stared down at the flower as they walked, stroked at its pink petals.

Those feelings Damian expected, the pride and suspicion, they weren’t manifesting. In fact, he was finding that it was…surprisingly nice, walking with Sir Jonathan. It didn’t feel awkward or forced. Their conversation was flowing naturally. There was no hint of the bordering animosity from yesterday, or the challenge. And, loathe as he was to admit it, even just to himself, he was easy on the eyes.

He still couldn’t trust him, though. Couldn’t stop assuming there was going to be another shoe to drop. A catch to this seemingly simple situation.

“So…” Damian sighed after a few minutes of silence. “I am to believe you are sincere, then?”

“Hm?”

“You aren’t here for the glory of protecting the prince?” Damian repeated, putting the flower behind his ear so he could clasp his hands behind his back. Jonathan shook his head. “Or for the riches that come with joining a highly respected royal family?” Jonathan smirked and shook his head. “You are here for love and all it entails, truly?”

“Yes.” Jonathan said easily. “At least I hope so.” He looked up into the sky, watching the clouds between the reaching tree branches. “I believe love could happen, but I also know that’s no guarantee. I mean,” Another laugh, this one nervous. “I know you’re not happy with me so far, but I will admit I am fond of you already. But I know that could change.”

He gave out a dreamy sigh.

“I could end up hating you.” He mumbled. “Or I could end up so deeply in love with you I don’t know what I’d do.”

Damian stared at him, specifically at his sparkling purple eyes. “…The former is more likely.”

Jonathan blinked and the sparkle disappeared from his eye as he looked back at Damian. He gave another smile, but it was sadder. “Surely you think better of yourself than that, Your Highness.”

Damian shrugged. “It…has happened before. An occurrence I’m used to. Friends, family…look at my grandfather, after all. Why do you think my mother feels the need to beg for someone to love me?”

“Well then, I will just have to hope to fall even deeper in love with you myself, then. Show them all what they are missing.” Jonathan decided.

But the answer made Damian stop. Jonathan took a few steps further before stopping and turning back himself. Damian watched as he glanced over Damian’s shoulder, no doubt at Jason’s lurking form. “Why?”

Jonathan looked back. “Why what?”

“Why are you so keen?” Damian demanded. “You know nothing about me.”

Jonathan blinked, and that shine in his eye was back. “Of course I do.” Jonathan said simply. “I know a lot about you.”

“How?” Damian asked. “Your father?”

“No. By our own interactions.” Jonathan shook his head. “You don’t remember, and that’s fine. It’s not important, really. Maybe one day you will.”

“When did we interact?” Damian snapped. “When did we meet?”

“As children.” Now Jonathan frowned, glanced at the ground. “But if you don’t mind, I don’t wish to talk about that now. That’s not what today is about.”

Damian crossed his arms. “What is today about then, if not to get to know each other?”

“Get to know each other, yes!” Jonathan agreed. “But as we are now, not as we were.” He took a step towards Damian. “Maybe another day, when you trust me more?”

He almost sounded like he was pleading, and Damian couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. “Who says I ever will?”

Jonathan laughed again, bowing his head in admittance.

“Like I said, who knows how this will turn out. I’m hopeful, but have been wrong before.” He smiled. “But that is neither here nor there, and I won’t bring it up again. The future doesn’t matter, only today does. So let’s get back to it, shall we?”

Damian pursed his lips in thought, vaguely sensed the flower tucked behind his ear.

“Fine. Let’s.” Damian nodded, stepping off. Jonathan’s face lit up as Damian returned to his side and they continued their quiet stroll through the woods.

Jonathan kept his promise, he kept his romantics to himself the rest of the day. Instead, they talked about typical things. Not love and coups and kingdoms, but food, books, battles. Jonathan, it turned out, enjoyed cooking. He spent much of his time in Krypton attempting to recreate the recipes he was taught when they travelled to share with his court. He also loved competing, and learning a skill when it bested him.

Damian asked about the bloody armor he had from the day before. Jonathan admitted is was from an attack on Krypton right after his father had retaken the throne. He didn’t like war, or the constant fighting around the lands, but recognized the need to take part when he had to, especially when it came to protecting the innocent.

Jonathan asked about his own skills, especially by being the son of the notorious Talia al Ghul. Damian explained that was what was so silly about this suitor business – he could protect himself. Always has been able to. Just like his siblings.

He then talked about his family. How his siblings were all adopted, but it’s not like you could tell, since they all looked so alike anyway. Richard was adopted by his father, Jason by his mother, and Timothy and Cassandra after the two were married. Damian had been an accident.

Their rendezvous was supposed to finish by midday, but they were so distracted by their winding conversation that they did another two laps around the forest path, before making their way back into town in the late afternoon. Absently, Damian noticed when Richard joined Jason, but otherwise continued to ignore them.

He could also see the townsfolk all whispering already. Gleefully talking about how handsome Jonathan was, how close the two were walking. He even heard a few talk about how warm his own smile was, and how relaxed he looked.

He ignored them too.

As the sun went down over the hills in the west, he found them nearing one of the castle’s gates and decided to end their meet for the day.

“Shall we see each other again?” Jonathan asked after Damian said so. “Have I proven myself to be worth even a second of your time?”

Damian let himself have a small smile as he crossed the gate threshold and turned back. “I suppose we can. How long are you staying in town?”

Jonathan shrugged. “As long as I need. Unless I get a letter from Krypton or something, I have nothing urgent to return to presently.”

“Alright. Where are you staying, then?”

“The tavern a few streets away.”

“Okay.” Damian smirked. While the day had been pleasant, and Jonathan an interesting companion, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to have his fun. “I’ll come find you when I wish to see you again.”

Jonathan gaped for a moment. “And when might that be?!”

Damian just kept his grin. “Whenever I feel like it. So, if you’re actually serious about this. I suppose…well, don’t leave town.”

Jonathan stared for a moment more, then let out a bark of a laugh. “You’re cruel, Your Highness.”

“So I’ve been told.” Damian agreed cheekily. He turned to walk away, but:

“Damian.”

He hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. Jonathan was still there, looking down at his hands as he clasped them together.

“I…would like to apologize, for yesterday.” Jonathan muttered. “I didn’t mean to potentially embarrass you in front of your court. I only wanted to get your attention, by any means necessary, which was selfish of me.” He bowed his head. “That…is not me. Not really. Today, though, that was me. I promise.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Damian countered. Jonathan looked up, confused. “You never explained how you made the flower, how you know me, or why your eyes sparkle – and yes, I noticed that. You’re still hiding something of yourself.”

Jonathan lowered his head once more.

“But we all have secrets, I suppose. Masks we wear on occasion.” Damian relaxed his shoulders, and touched at the flower still behind his ear, still as fresh as the moment Jonathan gave it to him that morning. “So…all is forgiven, Sir Jonathan.”

Jonathan perked at his words. After a moment of silence, he stepped forward again.

“Damian?” He asked softly. Damian hummed in response. Without warning, Jonathan took hold of Damian’s hand and leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. He lingered there for a moment, breath brushing Damian’s skin as he whispered, “Thank you for a lovely day.”

As quickly as he approached, he retreated, backing up until he was almost in the street.

“Until next time, Your Highness!” He called as he raised his hand. And in a flash, he was instantly lost to the evening crowd.

Damian was left blinking owlishly at the gate threshold. As he heard Richard and Jason approach on their horses behind him, obviously coming into the courtyard from another entrance, he looked down at his hand, the one Jonathan had held.

A purple rose sat against his fingers.

He looked back into the crowd, looking for even a glimpse of that black hair and violet eyes. There was nothing.

He swallowed thickly. This was supposed to be a game. Damian wanted it to be a game. He wanted to break Jonathan down and send him back to Krypton weeping.

He’d wanted that.

Now…so quickly…he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t so sure what he wanted. Wasn’t so sure if it was a game. And if it still was, who was winning.

“…Until next time.”

[writer-room]

Siblings: Chapter One

AO3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Summary: The Bats reflect on how their thoughts about siblings have changed over the years. Some opinions stayed, others didn't.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick always wondered what it’d be like to have a little brother or sister.

He recalled asking his parents why he didn’t have one. Not accusatory, just curious.

His mother had smiled and said that they had their hands full plenty with Dick, and he was all they needed. His father, while still kind, said that they didn’t really have the time or resources in the circus at the moment to add another child to the family.

Dick was disappointed, but he understood the reasons.

Even still, he’d find himself staring at the kids that watched the acts with awe. Older kids lighty taunted their younger siblings, ruffling their hair and pretending they were too good for it all, and that they were doing their siblings a favor by being there. Kids who nudged their brother or sister to distract and steal the snacks from concession stands, later whispering words that’d make the other gape or giggle. Young children holding their sibling who was of toddler age or younger, pointing towards parts of the acts, their glee growing upon seeing the excitement of their sibling.

Dick hadn’t been lonely growing up in Haly’s Circus, he had his parents and the other people who worked there, from the handlers to the clowns to the tricksters. 

And yet, he still found himself watching the kids who’d come in with one, or even two or three, brothers and sisters, taunting and laughing and sharing their wonder.

A sibling would’ve been nice, he thinks mournfully. It might’ve even been fun.

Ah, well. At least he had the circus.

,

“Hey, hey Dick. Dick. Dick, lookit.”

“If I turn around and I see you about to push Damian off the roof, I’m breaking your helmet.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Dick sighed, turning back from where he was keeping an eye on the streets below. Jason, who’d only been a few feet away, immediately took this moment to seize Tim, who had been too busy looking through his binoculars to care about whatever the two had been doing, and proceed to chuck him off the roof.

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan as Tim’s undignified shriek was cut off by him catching himself on a fire escape below, scrambling to get a good hold on so he didn’t fall the rest of the way.

“What?” Jason huffed. “You said not to push Damian, and I didn’t push Damian.”

“Of course,” Dick replied sarcastically. “My mistake, I’ll be sure to rephrase it as don’t push anyone off the roof.”

“Now that’s just unreasonable,” Jason huffed, hand on his hip as Steph and Cass snickered from the nearby chimney they were perched on. “I can think of plenty of people who deserve to be pushed off roofs. Like Scarow, for example. Bastard made me break my good hand last month and I still need to shoot a bullet in his back for that one.”

“Then don’t push your family off roofs, is that enough for you?” Dick sighed, standing up and peering over the edge of the roof. “You alright down there, Tim?”

“Names,” Damian finally chastised, not once having glanced over to the others from where he was on the corner of the roof, farthest as he could get from them.

“Oh, sure, now you worry.” Tim grumbled from the fire escape, finally pulling himself to his feet and brushing himself off. “Dick, please tell me I have permission to stab out Jason’s eye.”

“You do not.”

“He’d be fine!” Tim complained, snagging a hand on the stairs and instead pulling himself up along the outside of the fire escape instead of walking up the steps like a normal human being. “Harper could probably make him a new functional one in two days if she's in a good mood.”

“I’m not making him a new eye in two days. Maybe two weeks.” Harper informed from the other side of the roof, also ignoring the others as she tinkered with some gadget.

“Get anywhere near me and I’ll cough on you,” Jason threatened, also peering down off the roof. “You have basically no immune system, you’d die in a week. A long, painful death. Poetic cinema, really.”

“If you say it's poetic because you were beaten with a crowbar for two hours, I’m dropkicking you.” Steph warned, eyes narrowed.

“You’re so mean to me,” Jason gasped, placing a hand on his chest as he turned. “What did I ever do to deserve this? I’m nice to you!”

“No, you’re not.” Chorused Dick, Tim, Damian, Steph, and an extra voice through their earpieces.

“Wow, thanks, Babs.” Jason grumbled. “Showing up just to bully me, typical.”

“Names,” Damian warned a second time.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Babs crackled through their earpieces. “You’re not the only one I bully.”

“Everyone please stop harassing Jay,” Dick pleaded, though it came out more as an exhausted sigh.

“Names,” Damian growled a third time, losing his patience.

“I know it's fun,” Dick continued, ignoring him. “But this is supposed to be a scouting mission, and I’d rather he didn’t start taking out petty revenge during patrol.”

“I have no idea why he’s so surprised we get bored when scouting,” Steph mumbled quietly, to which Cass simply shrugged.

“You have no faith in me,” Jason snorted, and Dick could tell he was rolling his eyes under his helmet.

“I have plenty of faith in you,” Dick soothed. “I also, however, know how you are.”

“Don’t worry,” Steph raised a hand. “I already lost faith in you when you tried to kill Tim.”

“Which time?”

“Steph, don’t taunt him. Do it back at the Manor.” Dick lightly scolded.

“How many times do I have to repeat this?” Damian snapped, whirling from his post to glare at the others. “We do not use names on patrol!”

“Doesn’t Jon call you D on patrol?” Harper raised a brow, glancing towards him.

“That is different! He does not use my actual name!”

“Hypocrite,” Jason coughed under his breath.

Tim finally swung back onto the roof, skillfully rolling and dodging when Jason attempted to immediately kick him off again. Tim rolled close to the chimney, quickly pulling out his bo staff and crouching, glaring at Jason. It was reminiscent of two cats in a standoff, arched backs but neither of them making the first strike yet.

“Do not fight,” Cass said calmly. 

“Thank you, C--” Dick hesitated, glancing at Damian for a brief moment. “--Orphan.”

“Fight in Cave,” Cass continued cheerfully. “We have sparring mats for reasons.”

“And I take that back.”

“You wanna hang with the cool kids?” Steph asked, leaning off the chimney to offer her hand.

“Yes. Have I mentioned you’re my favorite person?” Tim grinned, putting his staff away as he took the offered hand and was pulled onto the chimney beside Steph and Cass.

“You could stand to say it more often,” Steph teased.

“Cheaters,” Jason grumbled, relenting that fighting both Steph and Cass to get Tim was a losing battle.

The three were rather squished on the chimney, but none of them seemed to mind. Harper only rolled her eyes and went back to tinkering.

“We really need to bring D--Signal on one of these things.” Dick muttered, shaking his head.

“Because he’s sensible, or because you want him to suffer like the rest of us?” Tim raised a brow.

“Because he deserves the same family bonding time.” Dick said simply.

“Duke and Cullen are next to me listening in on this,” Barbara said through the communicators. “I am here to inform you that Duke is both touched and terrified.”

“The bumblebee was awake and didn’t even bother to join us?” Harper snorted. “Rude.”

“Cullen agrees with you.”

“He better,”

“I’m taking a ten hour nap after this,” Dick complained, sitting back on the edge of the roof, legs dangling in the open air as he leaned back dramatically on his hands. “I deserve it. Self-care and all that.”

“That is the length of a normal amount of sleep.” Damian raised a brow.

“Not in this family, it’s not.”

“Preach!” Tim pumped a fist.

“You don’t count, Tim.” Dick chastised, leaning his head back to look at Tim upside down. “Everyone here remembers to sleep at the latest once every two days. You don’t sleep for five.”

“I’m being harassed,”

“You’re being bullied into a proper sleep schedule.” 

Damian suddenly whacked Dick over the head, startling him with a yelp as Jason hid a snicker. Harper and Cass looked over for a moment before continuing with whatever they had previously been doing.

“Names!” Damian hissed. “Do you all want your identities revealed?”

“Literally nobody is here,” Harper pointed out.

“If Gotham hasn’t found out our identities by now, they never will.” Steph snorted.

“Especially finger-stripes over here.” Tim added, a smug expression on his face.

“A nine-year-old finds out your identity one time and you never hear the end of it.” Dick muttered under his breath before sitting up and proceeding to snatch Damian, who had been previously stalking towards the others, by wrapping an arm around his chest and tugging him closer as the boy squawked.

“You were using a Flying Grayson move, dude.” Tim deadpanned. “You gotta pay the price for being flashy for no other reason than because you can.”

“That’s his entire personality.”

“Why do you all hate me?” Dick whined, holding a squirming Damian close as he gave the boy a noogie. “What did I do to gain such torment?”

“You want the list?” Harper looked up, finally putting away whatever she was tinkering with.

“We alphabetized,” Cass added.

“Wrote on the front and back,” Steph nodded sagely.

“I’m adding three more to the list when we get back,” Damian growled, looking ready to bite Dick if he didn’t stop soon.

“You better be joking about that list,” Dick warned, releasing Damian for his own safety. “Because if I ever find a list of reasons to be mean to me, I will not show mercy.”

“Do you mean you’re gonna attack us physically or emotionally?” Jason inquired.

“Emotionally,”

“You sick bastard.” Steph whispered in horror. “I can’t believe you would use your powers for evil.”

“Does it make it any better if I tell you the list, if it does exist, would probably only exist so that when we notice someone looks like they’re gonna do something stupid, we use the list to remind them of something you did so they take it out on you and not, say, turn all of Gotham into a gang war zone.” Harper said slowly.

“I hate you,�� Steph glared. “You mess up one time--”

“You died, Steph!” Tim exclaimed, before getting a batarang chucked at his head that Damian somehow snuck into his utility belt.

“She didn’t even die,” Jason snorted, crossing his arms. “Both of you two had lame fake-out deaths.”

“Why am I the one who’s become the punching bag?” Dick complained, holding Damian back again when he tried to grab the batarang Tim had dodged and threw it again.

“Because you’re actually good at feelings and everyone else is emotionally constipated.” Harper deadpanned.

“And the Ric incident.” Damian added right after, giving up in his thrashing. A shutter passed over the Bats at the mention of the name.

“Aw,” Dick’s face softened, ignoring the Ric comment. “You guys care about my advice?”

“Congrats,” Barbara chuckled slightly. “You’re the therapist brother.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Jason groaned, flopping backwards on the roof. “Now he’s going to be mushy and clingy all week.”

“Lord knows you idiots need it,” Harper huffed as Dick practically glowed.

“I’m sicing him on you later.”

“Jokes on you, he hasn’t found my apartment yet.”

“Yes I have,” Dick raised a hand, turning towards her. “Well, Robin found it, but I still know it.”

Harper stared at him for a few moments, momentarily turning her head to Damian for a moment before going back to Dick, and then turning to Jason.

“You’re a monster,” She whispered, a look of true horror on her face.

“I know,” Jason cackled gleefully.

“None of you are leaving the Manor when we get back.” Dick said matter-of-factly, pointing a finger to his siblings. “We’re gonna bond, and you’re going to like it.”

“We’re already bonding right now!” Damian protested.

“You’ll have to kill me first.” Steph hissed, shying behind Cass.

“Bold of you to assume you can keep me confined to the Manor.” Tim huffed in offence. “Orphan, I’ll stash you in one of my safe houses if you promise to be my bodyguard.”

“Deal,”

“You guys are so dramatic--”

“Hey, guys? Crazed pyromaniac with flamethrowers to the north.”

The group immediately dropped whatever they had been doing, heads snapping up towards the direction Barbara had tiredly informed them of the attack.

It was only a few moments before the sight of flames peaked over one of the buildings, dying out almost immediately. Shouts and rumbles were steadily growing in volume, especially the cackling of Firefly, likely revving up whatever weapon he’d acquired this time.

“Fantastic, can’t even keep watch with you morons.” Damian growled.

“Oh you are not the only one trying to work here!” Tim snapped. “Orphan, for example, is doing a wonderful--where’d she go?”

He and Steph looked around rapidly, their sister suddenly missing from the chimney. How they hadn’t noticed she’d left their crowded space was a mystery that’d likely never be solved.

“Over there,” Jason said boredly, upholstering a gun and pointing across the rooftops.

The outline of Cass’s body could be seen sprinting across the roofs towards where the fire had been spotted, leaping with reckless abandon.

“Life lesson for the rest of you,” Harper hummed, getting to her feet. “Be like Cass.”

“Stop using real names!” Damian barked.

“Last one there is on cleanup duty!” Steph hollered, shoving Tim and taking off in the same movement.

“Asshole!” Tim yelled as Jason, Harper and Damian all bolted after her without a moment's hesitation. 

Dick laughed, just getting to his feet as Tim stumbled up and after the others, swearing obscenities.

He quickly ran after his siblings, though he strayed a little further back, nobody paid attention to who showed up last anyway, his eyes darting from each of his siblings. Someone had to make sure they didn’t face-plant off a roof.

They shouted over each other as they descended down to take out Firefly. The guy had really picked a bad night to start causing trouble. It’d be over in no-time.

Even still, Dick paused on the roofs, scanning the streets below as the others ran to and fro, yelling over each other as Barbara switched between the coms to talk to them. It was a chaotic mess and Dick found himself grinning at it all.

His siblings were a hot mess, and it was amazing.

[cdelphiki]

She couldn’t do this.

Damian. Her precious little Damian. The baby with a beautiful smile. Infectious laugh. Adorable babble. Who so sweetly, so gently, pet any stray cat that sat still long enough for him to ‘catch.’ Who hugged anyone that cared for him, and even the random servants who lingered long enough.

That baby. Her baby.

Watching him, at 18-months-old, be taught how to wield a sword. Watching as the trainer smacked his hands, his side, his face, every time he wobbled, or lost interest, or got confused.

Hearing his cry, and seeing his pleading eyes, whenever it happened.

Seeing him look at her, and call for her, then get distraught because she did nothing.

She just stood there.

Next to her father.

And watched.

There was nothing more she could do. Going against her father would only bring more harm on her son. It would only risk Father taking Damian from her entirely.

But she couldn’t do this.

It felt like her heart was being ripped out of her body.

Someone was inside her, with red hot claws, scratching away. Destroying everything. Killing her.

Her stomach was filling with vile acid, and just one move, one word, and it might come up.

Weakness, her father would say.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Perhaps that is why he ordered her presence, for this training session.

She’d hardly been allowed time with her son. Not in nearly a year had she been granted daily visits with him.

Her father had been disappointed in how attached she’d been becoming.

‘He is to be a warrior,’ Father had said, ‘worthy of his station. He cannot become the Demon’s head if he is soft.’

Perhaps it was then she should have done something.

Said something.

But instead, she just bowed her head and followed orders.

Like a good daughter would do.

What use was that now?

Damian whimpered again, as his trainer smacked him on the back with the flat of his blade. He’d started slouching. They were working on form.

Talia resisted closing her eyes. She knew, she knew if she did, she would not be able to stop the tears that followed.

She had to remain strong. Stable. Unaffected….

Unaffected in her father’s eyes, at least.

When she’d lied to Bruce, when she’d told him she’d miscarried…. What was she thinking?

She- she hadn’t wanted to betray her father. Hadn’t wanted to betray the League. This was her life. She’d been raised in this, she owed everything she had. Her training. Her wealth. Her skills. Everything to her father.

But-

But what did that matter?

Was it worth it? Was her son worth it?

“All done,” Damian pleaded, when he fell over and scraped his hands on the hard cement, “all done all done all done.”

The trainer just stood him back up and handed him the sword again, ignoring his cries.

When Damian looked at her and cried, “Mama,” again, Talia could taste the bile.

How could she have just handed her son over to Ra’s like this? What kind of monster was she?

Her son was crying for her, and she was standing by, watching him be hurt.

All because her father told her to.

The fact that he knew to call her ‘Mama’ was all because she snuck in to see him. Ordered his nursemaids to leave the room. Swore them to secrecy.

Had killed, a few of them…

She’s more than sure Ra’s had noticed, now.

As Talia stood there, watching her son struggle to stop crying and listen to his trainer, Talia made a decision.

Because nearly two years ago, when she’d told Bruce about her ‘miscarriage,’ she’d made a huge mistake.

Her father’s influence was toxic.

This training?

It was hell.

Talia loved what it’d turned her into, she loved her skills and abilities.

But if this was the cost?

This?

Her child?

There was only one place on earth where she’d be safe, where he’d be safe. One person able to offer that protection.

And once Talia told him, she knew he’d move heaven and earth to get them away.

- - -

To say Bruce was suspicious would be an understatement.

Talia had broken ties with him two years prior.

On not-so-friendly terms, at that.

She’d betrayed him. Joined her father, and all but stabbed him in the back in doing so.

He’d loved her.

He really had.

She had been- he thought she was-

They were going to spend their lives together. Raise a child. He thought she was-

But that was over. In the past.

And yet, there she was, staring back at him through a webcam, asking for his help.

Asking for help, after hacking into his computer, in the cave, where his son could enter at any moment.

How on earth was he supposed to explain his past fling with Talia al Ghul to Jason?

“Why should I trust you?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Because how would he be able to deny her request?

Once upon a time, he would have died for this opportunity. Would have cried, from utter relief, to get her away from the League. To bring her home. Keep her safe.

Yes. She could keep herself safe. Defend herself. Hold her own, against even him, but he could offer his protection of the entire Justice League. If it came down to it.

He’d loved her.

But she’d chosen her father. Chosen a life as an assassin. Rejected him. And it was hard for him to forget that.

“I lied to you,” she said, pulling his attention back to the present, “I lied.”

She said it with such finality, Bruce narrowed his eyes. And just stared.

He was sure she’d lied about many things. Why was this the ‘reason?’ And why would lying be a reason to trust her now?

To give her a chance, now?

“About?” he pressed, ignoring the thought in the back of his head asking whether this was all a distraction so the League could move in on Gotham.

Alarms would be going off, if that were the case. Literal alarms, in the cave.

Besides, the League hadn’t been doing anything in the United States for many months.

They were too busy building up their forces in the Alps. Bruce still had no idea why, but they’d been beefing up their presence there for over a year and a half.

“You know about what,” Talia said, gently. Almost apologetically.

His heart fluttered, a little.

There was one thing. One thing, that had she been lying about, he’s not sure he’d be angry about.

Not right now, at least.

“Bruce,” she pled, “I- I’ve made a mistake.” Her voice cracked, and she rested a hand against the side of her face as she looked off to the side, away from her camera. “Father is so cruel to him, Bruce. I need your help.”

No.

Anger was definitely not the emotion he was feeling. It- it was down there. It was deep, deep down there, and later that night. Or, perhaps, in a few days, he knew he would hit a punching bag until his knuckles were bloody.

But on top? Right now?

On top was hope.

Hope, excitement, and… and utter devastation.

“Him?” Bruce whispered, resisting the urge to rip his mask off and rub at his face. He was on camera, he had to remind himself. He had no idea how many people were watching.

And this could all be one magnificent lie. A trick to get him off balance. So they could strike, while he had his guard down.

While he was yearning for something he’d thought he’d lost, two years prior.

“He’s beautiful, Bruce,” she whispered, her voice catching on the next sentence, “He looks just like you, and I can tell he gets his empathy from you. But,” she paused, a ferocious determination taking over her face. A trait of her’s that had caused Bruce to fall in the first place.

“Father will destroy him if we don’t get him away.”

There would be no ‘ifs.’

If Bruce had ever had a mission that had no option for failure, it was this one.

He didn’t care if Talia changed her mind, ten minutes later. This mission was happening, and he was bringing home what he thought he’d lost.

Bruce has no idea how he got through the following ten minutes, planning out with Talia exactly how and when the pickup would go. Nightwing, Robin and himself would all approach the compound in the batwing, in stealth mode. He’d pulled Clark in on the call, and Superman agreed he would be on standby, watching from afar for anything to go wrong.

If they were spotted, or if the League tried anything, the entire Justice League would respond, if necessary.

Clark promised he’d keep the mission itself classified. No one but the core team would know the details of what they were picking up. The core team being himself, the Flash, and the Bats.

His ears were ringing the entire time, and he felt like an outsider, looking in.

‘He looks just like you,’ Talia had said.

That’s all he could think about.

Bruce had a son.

There-

Was there anything more to say?

He had a son.

“Talia,” he rasped, just before she cut the call with him. After a deep breath, he looked deep into the camera, doing his best to convey his seriousness. His promise, should it be necessary. “If this is a trick.”

With sadness in her eyes, Talia smiled and said, “We will see you tomorrow, Beloved,” and with that, ended the call.

It came as no surprise when, not even a quarter of a second later, the papers on his desk flew up into the air. Each one wafting back down, before Bruce even had the chance to close his eyes and take a breath.

Bringing Clark in on this was necessary.

As much as he hated bringing personal missions to those outside the family, there was no way he could risk this one.

If Talia was telling the truth, and he wasn’t successful on his own. Wasn’t able to take on the entire League while protecting a helpless infant.

Well.

He’d never forgive himself.

Ever.

But none of that meant he had to be happy his best friend was there to witness this.

“Bruce, this is,” Clark started, setting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, but Bruce cut him off.

“Clark, just,” he said, pulling his mask off so he could finally wipe his eyes. He wasn’t even mortified at the crack in his voice, because there was far too many other things swirling through his head. “Give me a minute.”

He had… so much to do. He hadn’t time for this.

And yet…

It was the only thing he could do.

Closing his eyes, Bruce took a second to recenter himself. Find his strength and embrace his duties. Right now, he needed to be Batman.

But before he was able to complete a single deep breath, he heard from the top of the stairs, “B?”

And everything just became much more complicated.

“Bruce?” Jason asked again, a little hesitantly, as he made his way down the stairs, “Superman? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, reeling it all in and trying his best to blink back the wetness in his eyes. So maybe he wouldn’t have to wipe his face in front of his son.

His… middle son.

Because, Bruce actually had three…

“Is Dick okay?” Jason asked a little more frantically, because despite his best efforts, Bruce sniffed.

“He’s fine,” Clark soothed, squeezing Bruce’s shoulder a little tighter as Jason hurried his way down the stairs, “Nothing is wrong, Jase.”

“Then why is…” Jason said, trailing off when he finally made it to where Bruce was sitting.

They had so much to do. Bruce hadn’t the time for this.

It was time for Batman.

“Suit up,” he told his son, shrugging Clark’s hand off and squaring his shoulders. They had just under three hours before take off, and there was so much to do. “We have a mission.”

- - -

By ‘a mission,’ Bruce meant they were infiltrating the freaking League of Assassins.

Like.

In the middle of the day. Completely randomly.

Well, they were set to leave in three hours, with a 5 hour flight time. And considering the time difference, it would actually be about 4am when they arrived at Nanda Parbat.

So.

Middle of the night, kind of.

Jason was both super excited, and kind of freaked out.

Especially when Bruce called in Dick.

Those two worked together, sure. Sometimes. But it was always so fucking tense, and Jason kind of hated it.

Bruce also always refused to call in Dick for anything. Dick always just kind of, forced himself in on the mission.

But for this?

Whatever the fuck this was?

It had Bruce calling in not only Dick Grayson, but Superman, too.

Because that’s why Superman had been there. He’d already called the guy in.

Whatever was going on, it was huge.

And whatever it was, Jason actually started feeling very nervous. Because Bruce said he had news to share. And he called Alfred down first, before he shared it.

Bruce paced. Back and forth, back and forth. In front of the conference table for two full minutes while the four of them sat there, waiting for him to fucking say something.

“Do you want me?” Clark asked, and was immediately shot down by a glare from Bruce.

Was Bruce dying?

Were they going to the League to steal some pit water??

Because he said he was okay.

Clark said he was okay, and Clark wouldn’t lie about something like that. Right? Jason wouldn’t put it past Bruce at all to be a freaking hypocrite and lie to him so not to make him worry, but not Clark.

He was way too much a boy scout.

Yet, there Bruce was. Pacing back and forth. Freaking out about something.

“B, you’re freaking the kid out,” Dick said, leaning back in his chair, like he was fucking relaxed during this.

Their freaking dad could be dying and he was chill about it.

No wonder his name was Dick.

“I am not,” he protested, but Bruce quit his pacing and sighed, anyway.

“Honestly, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, from where he sat next to Jason, “Whatever it is, I am confident we can handle it.”

“A couple years ago,” Bruce started, pausing to sigh again before he turned his back to them, but continued, “I got… involved… with Talia al Ghul.”

“Gross. I knew it,” Dick said, pulling a face for Jason to see.

“From the League of Assassins,” Jason said, just to clarify.

So… were they staging this mission so Bruce could go…

Ew.

Gross.

Disgusting.

Jason hated his mind for putting that picture in his head.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed, apparently uncaring that he’d just put horrible awful pictures in Jason’s head.

He was thirteen. This was probably child abuse.

“It was serious,” he continued, “We had been… discussing marriage.”

“Oh my,” Alfred said, in as close to a gasp as Jason had ever heard from Alfred.

Jason didn’t blame him. Bruce had never really struck Jason as a ‘serious’ kinda guy.

Not with the ladies, at least.

Mostly because he had a different chick hanging off of him at every party.

“She had been with child,” Bruce finally said, nearly stumbling over his words as he spit the sentence out.

The air in the room seemed to still, and they all stared at Bruce.

Well, all of them, except Clark. Since apparently Clark already knew.

“Why… why,” Dick stammered, then stopped.

Jason didn’t really know what to ask first, either.

But apparently Bruce knew what to answer first.

“She told me she miscarried. She, she told me. I thought-“ with another sigh, Bruce turned back around, finally allowing them to see the exhaustion on his face, as he rubbed at it and sat down at the head of the table.

“I thought she’d miscarried. She dumped me, after that. Refused to leave her father and the League, and sent me home. I- I should have checked up on it. Verified her story, but… I was just so-”

Bruce put his face in his hands, and just sat there, for a very long minute.

Dick, to Jason’s surprise, was the one to break the silence, because neither he nor Alfred seemed to be able to find any words. Jason had never heard Bruce so close to tears, before.

He was kind of scared of getting Bruce to talk more.

And if Bruce was saying what he was saying, well…

Jason really had no words for it.

Batman apparently had a baby.

And they were going to rescue it from the League of Assassins.

That was just…

Wow.

Holy.

Shit.

“So,” Dick said, a small smile tugging on his lips as he did, “is it a boy or a girl?”

- - -

Everything was going smoothly.

They had agreed on a meet-up time eight hours from the end of their call, which meant Talia had most the night to figure out her plan for getting Damian out of his nursery.

In the end, she’d decided on using simple tranquilizer darts.

It was dirty, a completely dishonorable way to fight, but Talia couldn’t find it in herself to care.

The very last thing she needed was for one of the nursemaids to notice her break-in and alert the guards.

She’d packed her bag before heading to Damian’s room, so all she had left to do was grab him before Bruce arrived.

Sneaking into his room was painfully easy, and she only had to sedate one nursemaid, who had already been asleep, anyway.

Honestly. It couldn’t have been easier, and it was putting Talia on edge.

Damian stirred, when she lifted him from the crib, so Talia shoved the pacifier into his mouth she knew he’d been deprived of for eight months at that point.

He’d taken to sucking his thumb, in its stead, and Talia had always hated that about her father’s rules.

Why was it so difficult to indulge her son in one simple comfort.

The pacifier worked like a charm, and Damian latched onto it with one hand as he sucked away, curling into Talia’s hold as she wrapped the cloth around them both, creating a make-shift carrier.

Out of everything, the hardest part was getting him tied to her securely. Because with the pacifier, he was as quiet as a lamb, not making a single peep of protest. She wasn’t even sure if he’d woken enough to see who had been holding him.

After the day he’d had, Talia was grateful he could still find peace in his sleep.

Climbing up to the roofs was a little more difficult. Damian did whine, a little, when she had to press herself up against the wall of the third floor, to hide from a patrolling guard below.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, begging every deity she could think of to keep Damian silent as the guard paused and looked around. After adjusting her grip, so she could hold them both with one hand, she placed her newly free hand on his head and tried to soothe him.

Damian shifted against her, even though he was pinned rather tightly between her and the wall, then stilled. His little pacifier bobbing in and out as he grasped tightly to her blouse.

The guard looked around, up and down the narrow courtyard below where she was climbing, but after a long minute, turned around and continued on with his patrol.

Talia didn’t allow herself a sigh of relief.

With three more moves, Talia reached the edge of the roof and pulled herself up, without scraping Damian against the edge. He didn’t notice in his sleep.

Soon, he’d be able to pass all his nights in such peace.

His days, too.

She had no doubt in her mind that Bruce would offer them the sanctuary they needed, to allow Damian to grow up without fears.

But, if he didn’t, she’d find it anyway.

This child. Her child, would never know the pain he’d experienced that day again.

As silently as she’d been trained, Talia raced across the rooftops to the pickup location. Bruce was promised to be there in two minutes, and she needed to be three buildings over.

“Shh,” she whispered, hugging Damian tightly as she ran. The movement was, apparently, disrupting his sleep, and he’d started to stir, “sleep, my prince.”

“Mama,” he mumbled, snuggling against her.

“Yes,” she choked, preparing to make the last jump to the roof where Bruce was to meet them, “Mama is here, baby.”

She’d given Bruce the coordinates of the highest roof in the complex, in hopes that he could simply swoop in and grab them, not needing to stop or interact with anyone.

He was bringing his team, though. He was bringing Superman.

Talia had never had any sort of admiration for the alien. His technique was abysmal, tending to toss around his unearthly strength, rather than exhibit any skill during his fights.

But knowing that, if it came down to it, she could likely just shout ‘Superman,’ and in an instant he’d be there, ready and able to take Damian to safety… It helped keep her calm.

Father would not be expecting the help of a Kryptonian. Bruce had never been one to ask for help, so it was unlikely Father would have his kryptonite within reach.

The final jump was a little longer than comfortable, and Talia had to land in a roll to avoid injuring herself or falling off completely. She rolled on her back, using her arms to keep Damian from making contact with the roof at all.

Her heart was hammering when she finished the roll on her feet. She had thirty more yards to go, and she’d been at the exact coordinates she’d given Bruce.

Thirty more yards, and one more minute.

Talia shook, as she stood in the exact spot. Damian was fully awake now, and wriggling against the cloth wrapped around him.

“Be still, my dear,” she whispered, hugging him a little tighter as she searched the night sky for any sign of their rescue, “Just a few more moments.”

“Out,” Damian cried, not quite at a normal level, but much louder than Talia felt comfortable with, as he started struggling against her arms, “Down.”

“In a moment,” she whispered desperately. Her arms felt like rubber, as the adrenaline that had kept her running started to ebb.

It was a minute past pickup, and Batman was no where in sight.

If he didn’t show…

Damian whined out again, this time loudly.

“Be patient, my love,” she whispered, now fighting back tears, “Your father is coming for us.”

He had to be.

“Mama,” Damian cried, pulling his pacifier out of his mouth completely to whine at her more efficiently.

She looked around frantically, making sure no guards were near enough to have heard him.

When she didn’t see anyone coming at them, she bounced Damian some and tried to force the pacifier back into his mouth. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she repeated, over and over, really unsure, at this point, if it was for Damian or herself.

Because if Bruce weren’t coming, was any of his team?

Was she just standing on a roof, risking the life of her son for nothing?

Father would not take lightly an attempted defection.

What would he do to Damian?

Probably take him away from her forever. She’d never see him again. Never know the pain he was in. Never be able to hold him, after a hard day, and comfort him. Remind him of her love.

She’d lose him forever, and-

Talia’s knees nearly buckled when, without warning, a jet materialized out of nowhere not ten feet above her.

His technology was amazing. She hadn’t even felt it coming, much less heard it.

And before she even realized it, tears were streaming down her face.

A hatch opened, right on the underside of the jet, and Batman himself leaned out, reaching a hand down to her.

“Talia,” he breathed, shaking his hand, as if desperately begging her to grab it.

She’d never accepted an offered hand so fast in her life.

As he pulled her up into the jet, swiftly and effortlessly, as if it were nothing, Talia felt herself relax. All the adrenaline leave her body entirely as she collapsed right onto the ground of Bruce’s jet.

She didn’t even care who all was there to see.

Because for the first time in her life, Talia felt like she could breathe.

- - -

She hadn’t been lying.

That was the only thing circling through Bruce’s head as he pulled Talia up into the jet, them stopping barely long enough for him to do that before Dick was turning around and racing away.

As far as they could tell, they hadn’t been spotted until they turned off the craft’s cloaking system.

If all went to plan, the League would not be able to respond quickly enough to catch them. Nightwing was supposed to take them on an indirect route back to Gotham, completely in stealth mode.

Ra’s al Ghul could search the skies all night and never find them.

He hoped.

But all that was for Nightwing to worry about. That had been the plan. If Talia was telling the truth, he’d agreed, Bruce could focus on that, while Dick handled keeping them hidden and taking them to safety. Jason could give him backup, if necessary.

Bruce trusted Dick with his life.

And he was so thankful for that, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do much beyond what he was currently doing.

Which was watching as Talia collapsed onto the floor, clumsily freeing a baby from a carrier as she cried into his hair.

“Tal-“ he started, reaching an hand out to her, really unsure about what he was going to do. But he froze, when the baby squirmed and twisted out of the cloth holding him.

Because Talia was right.

He was beautiful.

His bright green eyes were mesmerizing, and Bruce felt his heart seize as the baby looked at him, ever so briefly.

It wasn’t until that very instant did Bruce realize his life had been incomplete.

There had been a piece of him missing, and he hadn’t even realized it.

The baby turned back to his mother and said, “Mama,” reaching up for her face.

“Yes,” Talia sobbed, grabbing his hand and holding it to her cheek, before she wrapped him up into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said, squeezing him tight, “I’m so sorry.”

Bruce watched helplessly as Talia devolved further and further into incoherence, as she whispered her apologies and proclaimed her love for the very confused looking baby in her arms.

The baby didn’t protest, though. He leaned into her hug and stayed there, like he understood his mother needed a hug back.

How old was he?

If he’d been born on time, by Bruce’s estimations, he’d be about…

Seventeen months old?

Eighteen?

He didn’t know much about baby development, but he did know that it was during the first year they turned from basically babies to tiny, outspoken little people.

How developed was his son? How much had Bruce missed?

Bruce knelt down in front of Talia and sat there, waiting for her to recover.

What she had been through, he had no idea.

It had to have been a lot, for her to reach out and actually ask for help.

She was stubborn, like that. Never asking for help. Never even expecting it.

And her reaction to being pulled into safety, well.

He was afraid to learn what she’d been through.

Jason caught his eye, lingering just on the outskirts of his vision. He looked up and tried to offer a reassuring face, but probably fell flat, because Jason frowned at him. But Jason held a thumbs up at him, both letting him know they’d flown into the clear and Superman had been informed of the successful mission, and asking if Bruce was good.

With a single nod, Bruce thanked him, and turned his attention back to Talia.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking at him, now, but still hugging the baby tightly to her.

“What happened?” he asked, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the baby.

Touch his son.

Bruce had never been one to want to hold babies, usually perfectly content to just observe them, but his arms yearned for the weight of this baby in his arms.

He didn’t even know his name.

“Father,” she said, her voice almost squeaking with the effort.

Bruce hadn’t seen her in two years, and he still wanted to pull her to his side.

Never had he seen her like this.

But he kept his distance. Let her recover on her own. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her, in that moment.

At all.

“Father,” she said again, this time much more confidently, one hand absently combing through the baby’s hair.

The beautiful baby who had twisted in her hold, just enough, to stare at him.

“Started his training.” There was so much pain in her voice, Bruce could only imagine what kind of horrors that meant.

Who trained a baby?

“Bruce,” she choked out, squeezing the baby again, “it was so bad. I- I just stood there and watched. I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything else. He would have harmed him more. Or taken him from me.”

“What happened,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible.

Any anger he had about whatever ‘training’ implied was being pushed down. Buried deep into the recesses of his brain.

No one needed his anger right now.

When the baby continued to stare at him, Bruce realized he still had his cowl on.

What kind of introduction was this? Being presented to his son as Batman, first.

Hopefully he hadn’t scared the kid too much to want to be held.

Talia started crying again, and shifted so she was sitting criss-cross, the baby still cradled in her arms as she blubbered out, “They hit him so many times, Bruce. I’m so sorry,” and before Bruce could even respond. Could even think of how to respond, she turned her face down to the baby and repeated, “I’m so sorry, Damian. I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll never let- I’ll never-”

But she didn’t complete the sentence, because she’d lost it again, and the baby… Damian?

Damian.

That was the most beautiful name he’d ever heard.

Damian looked very confused and concerned for his mother’s mood.

“He’s safe now,” Bruce tried, scooting over to her side to set a hand on her back, “He’s safe.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, curling further onto Damian.

“Mama,” Damian said again, this time pointing at Bruce when Talia opened her eyes and gave him her attention.

“Yes,” she said, smiling for the first time as she wiped her tears away, “Yes, dear. This is-“ she paused, looking up at Bruce, then said again, “This is Daddy.”

Bruce could cry.

He was not going to cry.

“Do you want to hold him?” Talia asked, apparently seeing the intense desire plastered all over his face.

All Bruce wanted to do was hold him. There was nothing on earth he wanted more.

“May I?” he asked, almost afraid to even try.

What if Damian didn’t like him?

What if he started crying, when Bruce took him?

“He’s your son, Bruce,” Talia said, lifting Damian from her lap and offering him over.

After hesitating for only a second, Bruce reached out and held his hands out to Damian, who looked at him appraisingly, like he were judging Bruce and determining if he was worth his attention.

But then, before Bruce could even hold his breath, Damian leaned toward him, and Bruce could definitely cry.

Because then Damian was in his arms, looking straight into his eyes as he let Bruce hold him close.

And-

And.

Bruce had no thoughts.

“Hi, Damian,” he choked out, trying his hardest not to cry, “I’m- I’m your-“ but he couldn’t get the word out.

Couldn’t get anything else out.

Damian didn’t seem to care, because he smiled at Bruce and said, “Hi,” back.

And Bruce was definitely crying, now.

Just a little.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because he had the son he thought he’d lost two years ago cradled in his arms, and nothing could ruin the moment.

- - -

Jason was thankful that the jet was large enough he didn’t have to hear Bruce talking to his new baby son.

He honestly had no idea how to feel about all of this.

Bruce had apparently done it with the daughter of one of their most dangerous villains, and he was now probably definitely crying tears of joy while he held the son of said villainous daughter.

But Jason wasn’t jealous.

How could he be?

The baby was just a baby. It’s not like the posed any sort of threat to Jason.

Except.

By… stealing away Bruce’s attention.

Jason was not being jealous of a baby. The baby deserved his dad’s attention. Especially since he had a dad as great as Bruce. Jason would know. He’d been playing the role of dad for him for a year.

Now, though… now he had a real son.

He was not jealous.

“Stop worrying,” Dick said, from where he was flying the jet, sitting in the seat next to Jason.

Jason had taken the spot of co-pilot just because it was the farthest away from Bruce he could be. He wasn’t really helping Nightwing fly.

Mostly because Nightwing didn’t need help flying. He actually had the auto-pilot engaged.

“I’m not worrying.”

“You’re right,” Dick said, laughing a little as he leaned back in his chair, “You’re freaking out.”

Crossing his arms, Jason tried his best to look completely and totally unaffected by everything ever as he said, “Am not.”

Apparently he was unconvincing, because Dick gave him a shit eating grin and ruffled his hair.

Like the asshole he was.

“You’re right. You’re the epitome of calm and collected.”

“Fuck you,” Jason snapped. Dick should mind his own fucking business.

They still weren’t, like, friends or anything, either. Dick had been clear about how happy he was Jason existed. Sure, they’d kind of made up some in recent months. And Dick even offered his blessing for Jason to be Robin, but that didn’t mean they were friends.

Apparently Dick didn’t agree, because he kept being an asshole and talking to him by saying, “Look, this isn’t going to change anything between you and Bruce, okay?”

Through a pout, Jason mumbled, “How would you know?” Bruce getting a son was going to change everything.

“Because this happened to me, remember?”

Jason rolled his eyes. Just because Bruce adopted him didn’t mean Dick knew what it was like to have his adopted dad get a biological child and not need him anymore. If anything, Dick should be freaking out, too, because they were both the adopted kids and the baby was the real son.

Except Dick didn’t live with them, so he wasn’t at risk of being homeless again if Bruce kicked him out. Since, well, Bruce couldn’t kick him out.

Maybe Dick should fuck off and leave him alone.

“Did Bruce adopting you change how he felt about me?” Dick asked, nudging Jason’s arm as he did.

Asshole.

“Fuck you, it’s different,” he snapped. In fact, they all knew Dick was the favorite child between the two of them, so it was completely and totally different.

Maybe Dick should be worrying more. He wasn’t going to be the favorite anymore.

Bruce was so happy about having a biological son he was crying about it.

Bruce had never been that happy about Jason.

“Not really,” Dick said, sighing some, “I thought he was writing me off completely when he adopted you.”

“Bruce never shuts up about you, it’s always ‘Dick this’ and ‘Dick that’ whenever I do anything, so shut up. But we’re both adopted, and that baby over there ain’t.”

Dick cocked a head at him and then let out a huff of a laugh. “Bruce never even told you. Wow.”

“Told me what?” Jason demanded, crossing his arms harder, because he didn’t want to storm off. Mostly because that would mean facing Bruce with his stupid new baby.

“I knew he was terrible with communication, but geez.”

“What, Dickface, just tell me.”

“Jase,” Dick said, offering a softer smile than before, “I’m not adopted. Bruce never adopted me. He was simply my ‘guardian’ until I aged out of the system. He has no legal obligation to me at all, now.”

“He-“ Jason started, because there was no way that was true.

No. Fucking. Way.

Bruce cared about Dick way too much for that to be true.

And why would Bruce adopt him, but not Dick? That also made no sense.

Dick was the favorite.

“You’re lying. He calls you his son all the time.”

“I know,” Dick said softly, still smiling like an asshole, “Because even if he’s never said it, and probably never will say it, he loves me. Just like he loves you.”

“Shut up,” he said, because he couldn’t figure out anything else to say. Obviously he knew Bruce, like, loved him and shit. But they didn’t have to talk about it.

But… Dick was kind of right about one point. He was adopted.

It’s not like Bruce could go back on that.

So kicked out probably wasn’t on the table.

“I promise, Jason, this isn’t going to change anything between you two. So don’t worry too much.”

Jason was stuck trying to come up with something to respond with that was more witty than 'fuck you' when he was startled by Bruce’s footsteps approaching the cockpit.

If Bruce saw him pouting, there was no doubt he’d be able to read Jason as easily as Dick Fucking Grayson had read him, and that would not be good.

He wasn’t ready for that.

“Jason,” Bruce said, sounding like he was smiling wider than Jason had ever seen him smile.

Except.

Maybe.

On his adoption day. When Bruce hugged him and said ,“Welcome to the family, Jaylad,” with his stupid dopey smile…

And… and…

“Dick,” Bruce continued, now inside the cockpit, with the little baby in his arms, “I want you boys to meet your little brother, Damian.”

And maybe…

Maybe Dick was right.

Jason had nothing to worry about.

He’d always wanted a little brother, too.

[bisexualsforprompto]

Cat Fight

Based on this art by @gajer-1226

TW: major character death and suicide, please read at your own risk

“...Marinette?”

Cried a panicked and pained voice from far away. So far away it seemed, as Marinette felt herself slip in and out of consciousness. Letting out a hum, all she could muster to say in greeting to the strange shadow who whispered her name, Marinette let her eyes close slightly. Her pillows were soft beneath her head and her sheets were a comforting warmth. She felt weak laying down, but couldn’t even remember when she had done it.

She suddenly felt warm hands on her. One on her cheek and the other intertwined in her limp hand. Willing her eyes to open, Marinette let out a small whimper that sent pain straight to her side.

“Don’t move,” said the figure, who Marinette belatedly realized was her boyfriend, Damian. He inhaled sharply.

“What happened?” He muttered, squeezing Marinette’s hand.

Her eyes looked dull and almost a pale grey rather than the joyous bluebell he’d known so well. The last bit of life he felt in her hand started to seep out slowly as her eyes began to close.

“No!” Damian yelled, taking his hand out of hers and placing both on her cheeks, “Don’t close your eyes, beloved.”

“Hmmm...hurts...Dami.”

“I know,” he said, pulling out his phone he forced himself to stay calm. He began to dial, “Just stay strong for a while. Help is on the way.”

Marinette’s hand was quickly on the arm hold up his phone. She whispered something unintelligible and nodded her head slightly. Prying his hand off his phone, Marinette instead moved Damian’s palm to her heart.

“Chat Blanc.” Was all she said.

“The akuma?” Damian asked, slowly rising in anger. Did he do this to her? ‘I’m going to skin him alive,’ he thought.

With a small smile, Marinette pointed weakly to her shelf. On it was a normal looking silver ring.

“Please,” was all she said.

Then her body went limp before him and her eyes glazed over.

“No.” Damian said, he began to shake her, “No, no, no.”

He squeezed her hand, hard. Almost enough to bruise.

“Wake up. Wake up right now Dupain-Chang, or I’ll...I’ll...”

He looked away and to the ring she had pointed to.

What was so special about it? Did she want him to have it, or did she want it herself?

Damian felt possessed as he walked over to the shelf and slowly picked the ring up. In a flare of magic a small creature appeared before him.

“Ugh finally! I was beginning to think I’d never get fed again!” The black cat bug thing? said before taking a double take at the boy in front of him, “You’re not pigtails...”

“Who are you?” Damian demanded, crossing his arms, “If you can fix this, you’d better do it right now.”

“What?” The creature asked, “fix wha...”

The green eyes of the cat fell on the pale body laying in Marinette’s bed.

“Pigtails...” He whispered. He then hardened and trained his eyes on the boy, “What happened to her?”

“Answer my questions first.”

“Huh?” The creature asked before nodding, “Right...My name is Plagg, I’m a kwami, basically, I’m the god of destruction. And as for fixing her...”

Plagg shifted his gaze from Damian’s, “I’m sorry kid...”

Damian narrowed his eyes, “Why exactly are you here then?!”

Plagg sighed, “Pigtails...your girl...she was involved in some things...”

Damian raised his brow. Coldly, he spat, “Talk.”

~~~~~~~~~

Running on the rooftops was nothing new for Damian, but running on the roofs of Paris was something completely new for him.

Somehow the atmosphere was different from Gotham’s. Cleaner air, more beauty and lights, but somehow there was more despair in his heart...

Damian had to be strong. He’d seen death before, this one shouldnt phase him. He remembered his training from the League, block out all distractions.

Marinette was a distraction. Logically, he knew that, but it didn’t stop the stabbing in his heart, as if thinking that was wrong. Guilt.

Why was he feeling guilt?

He wished he could tear out every emotion from his body...why did it have to be like this? He felt like guilt, regret and sadness were tearing his body apart.

But at the forefront of them all...

Revenge.

~~~~~~~~

“Little kitty on a roof, all alone without his lady~”

Chat swung his legs as he sat on a roof overlooking Paris. His eyes were trained on his love’s room.

It all happened so fast.

He didn’t want to hurt her.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her.

She was supposed to be indestructible as Ladybug...why did she detransform?

Why would his lady detransform?

Was it an act of revenge?

She hated him so much she’d rather die than be with him?

Chat hummed to himself and thought, no that wasn’t it.

Did she do it because she wanted the destruction of everything? Just like him?

Was her act of destroying herself a way of telling him she was on his side? After all, he was the destruction to her creation...

Yes, that had to be it...

She wanted everything destroyed just like him because she believed in him. She believed in Chat Blanc.

If only he had the cat miraculous as well as the ladybug earrings that he’d taken off his love.

Then he could bring her back...

After all, what would his destruction matter if he didn’t have someone to share it with?

She must’ve trusted him to bring her back.

He was touched, really he was. And thinking of bringing her back to be his queen in a completely destructed world made him smile.

And laugh.

“How can you be laughing?” Hissed a voice from behind him.

Chat whipped his head around. His eyes unfeeling as he gazed upon a man in a cat costume.

He felt anger boil inside him as he realized this fake cat had stolen what was rightfully his.

“Give me that ring.”

The cat shoved his hand that had the ring into his side.

“No.”

Chat grit his teeth, “Give it to me now. She wanted me to have it. Me not you!” He snarled as he lunged for it.

“How dare you...” the cat whispered, as he drew his blade, “You don’t know what she wanted, you killed her...

“You bastard cat...” continued the poser as he brought his blade into a fighting position.

Chat brought up his finger without emotion. He would take back that ring and get his lady back no matter what.

He felt the destructive energy well up inside of him until he let it all go, unleashing a deadly beam of energy to his opponent.

The cat dodged, flipping agilely and effortlessly as he sidestepped the destruction.

Chat huffed, “Just who are you?!”

“I’m Kharaab, but you know me as Damian, don’t you...Adrien?”

“I am Chat Blanc.” He said as he aimed again.

Of course it was Damian...that nuisance had always been in the way of him and his lady. He dated her, made it impossible for Adrien to even get near her...

“I’m surprised you don’t want her alive Damian,” Chat said, “Although, you never did love her like I did...”

Damian lunged for him, his claws almost scratching Chat’s face.

Chat grabbed Damian’s hand and quickly pulled him inwards. He hissed into his ear, “You didn’t deserve her...”

Damian grit his teeth. He kneed Chat in the groin, “And you did?”

Sweeping his legs out from under him, Damian continued speaking, “You think you were entitled to her, but you never cared about her feelings. You’re the reason she’s de-“

“And I’m the reason she’ll be alive after this!” Chat screamed as he quickly aimed his fingers toward’s Damian’s face.

Damian grabbed Chat’s fingers, applying more pressure than necessary and practically breaking them.

Chat held in his pain.

“SHE’S NOT COMING BACK!” Damian hollered, “How deranged are you that you can’t see that.”

He kicked Chat in the face, still holding onto his fingers.

“I could’ve saved her,” Damian muttered to himself, “Put her into a Lazarus pit...but because of you, I had to leave her. Who knows if she’ll even be there once I’m finished with you!”

He punched Chat in the face with his other hand, taking a small amount of pleasure from the blood he saw trickle down.

“You can’t save her,” Chat grinned wildly, his bloody face making his smile all the more gruesome, “No matter how hard you try, I’m her prince, her white knight, not you. Once I take my ring back my lady and I will be reunited.”

“What nonsense are you spouting now?!” Damian growled, pushing Chat down into the concrete.

He placed his steel shoe onto Chat’s face and listened for the ever-satisfying crack.

But instead he heard Chat chuckle in a pained voice.

“So Plagg didn’t tell you...figures.” He winced as he tried pushing Damian’s shoe away, “With both the Ladybug and cat miraculous...the earrings I have and that little ring on your finger...I can bring her back.”

Chat smiled softly as he watched Damian’s bewildered expression, “With both miraculouses the user is granted one wish, why do you think Hawkmoth wanted them?”

Damian teetered between shock and anger, “Y-you’re lying.”

“Am I?” Chat whispered, “Fine then. Kill me and spend the rest of your life without her...At least I’ll be reunited with her at last.”

Damian pressed toe a bit harder onto Chat’s skull, hearing the white clad boy groan. With a sigh, Damian moved his foot off. He flipped Chat over to grab his arms.

“Where’s your akuma?”

Chat was silent. All he did was simply laugh. A laugh that turned into a loud and long cackle.

“I see you’ve bested me. Ohhhhh well!” He said in a mock sing song. Snickering, he finally looked back at Damian.

“Do me a favor would you?”

Damian cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes.

“Take the earrings in my back pocket.” Chat instructed, “Then Break my bell, the akuma is in there.

“Once you cleanse the akuma...” Chat have him a deadly grin, “Bring her back, will you?”

Wordlessly, Damian took the earrings out, if nothing else but to keep them away from Chat.

He grabbed the bell next. Just as he broke it, Chat broke out of his grasp.

“Well our time together is almost at its end. Put on those earrings, say the magic words and cleanse the akuma.” Chat’s expression went into a Cheshire grin, “And don’t forget what I told you...bring her back.”

Damian placed the earrings on himself, feeling a new transformation bond with Plagg.

He’d never felt so much power...

Chat slowly backed away, towards the edge of the roof as Damian fidgeted with his new yo-yo.

Grabbing the akuma in his new yo-yo, Damian watched as it began to re-emerge as a white butterfly.

“I can feel that this is coming to an end...” Chat said as he started swirling in black bubbles, “Well...” he whispered as he backed onto the ledge of the roof.

“Adieu.” He winked as he let himself fall off.

After hearing the crack on concrete and shrill screams from below, Damian knew...

He lowered his eyes and hung his head.

He couldn’t say he was unhappy with the cat’s death, but he couldn’t get the words out of his head. ‘Bring her back.’

He knew...he knew Chat hadn’t meant the Lazarus.

And somehow, he remembered something Chat has said earlier...about a wish.

It was possible he was lying, but...

With a shaky breath Damian called upon his power.

“I wish—“

[zayray030]

Do you even care?

Summary: Damian gets stabbed and beaten up by a few bullies at school and is left to die at a back alleyway. While he's bleeding out he thinks of his 'family', his 'friends' and his 'team'

Damian gritted his teeth against the pain in his rib and closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing steady.

He wonders if his brothers would care if they found him. Found him lying in a puddle of his own blood, bones broken and looking like death had come.

He wonders if any of them would show up at his funeral. He wonders if they would cry. Would they even care to show up? Probably not. They would probably celebrate him going away.

Maybe his father would care. It was after all his idea. His idea for Damian not to fight those bullies. To just let them be. And look where that had landed him.

Broken and bleeding to death in some back alleyway. This really wasn't how he had thought he would die. A second time anyway. He had thought he would die by some huge foe. Or maybe of age. Or another natural cause.

Not because some bully had overpowered him and his friends had taken turns beating the shit out of him. He had wanted to fight back so badly but he hadn't wanted his father to shoot him a disappointed look. He hadn't wanted his brothers or sister to look at him in disgust for hurting the ‘innocent’.

Tt. Says so much about them.

While Damian was bleeding out from a knife wound the bully had given using a rusty pocket knife, he began thinking. About his ‘family’, his ‘friends’ and his ‘team’.

To be fair he didn't even think his family was his… family. They barely even functioned together on a good day. Hell, half of them  if not all, hated him. Drake barely gives him the time of day and he continues to think of him as an assassin even after he changed. Even after he proved himself time and time again that he wasn't an assassin.

Todd. Well Todd barely speaks to him as it is. Only to insult him or to ask where the others are. Had he even apologised for shooting him? Probably. Or probably not. Damian couldn't remember with how much blood he was losing. He let out a small humourless laugh.

His father barely even gave him the time of day as it was. He hadn't even remembered his 13th birthday. He hadn't even bothered to ask him normal questions a father asks his son. But Damian couldn't blame his father. He had been the unexpected one. The unplanned one. The unwanted one.

Grayson was another story. He would probably actually care. If he wasn't focusing on someone else. Maybe he was still comforting Wallace after Damian had almost killed him. He couldn't blame Grayson, though. Grayson was very well liked and he attracted people to him like how the planets were attracted to the sun. But Damian was selfish. He just wanted someone to love him. Was that so bad? Probably coming from an assassin like him.

Pennyworth. Now this man Damian knew loved him, no matter his flaws. He would miss their talks and those times they had tea together. Those were the most pleasant moments ever. He would definitely miss those over anything.

Kyle. He would miss her. She had been nice, even though her and his mother hadn't gotten along and he was his father's bastard child. Those two had shared some secrets that they would never tell the others and he had thought that maybe they could get close enough for him to call her mother. Guess it was too late for that.

He then thought of his actual mother. She would think him weak just like grandfather will think. She would probably be disappointed that she hadn't had the honour of killing him again.

He let out a sharp gasp as he tried to shift his body to a more comfortable position but that just agitated the wound worse and Damian couldn't help but feel like crying.

He thought back longer and couldn't help but think about Jonathan. The boy-man-  whatever the hell he was now, hated his guts. Well that's what he assumed. People who like you don't normally call you baby Hitler, but who knows? Maybe that's just another thing that's different here and Damian is just a freak for not knowing it.

He thought about the first time they met and the last time they saw each other. Neither had been good. It went, like how Todd would normally say, shit.

He wasn't even surprised though. He couldn't blame anyone for not wanting anything to do with him. If anything Jon was lucky that he got away as quick as he had. He saved himself a shit ton of time being wasted on an assassin.

He thought of his other friends. Colin had been adopted earlier and even though those two had been keeping contact Damian could tell that Colin was happier in his new, normal life away from his. So he cut him off. That's probably the nicest thing he had ever done to someone. Colin’s probably grateful for Damian doing this.

Maps parents have banned her from hanging out with him, not wanting their daughter to be associated with Damian Wayne. He couldn't blame them, really. He honestly thought it was the best decision they made for her and he keeps telling himself that when he sees Maps in the hallways of Gotham Academy and sees her talking to those who make his life a living hell.

Surren was focusing on the magical world and he had barely been giving Damian the time of day. At least when Damian dies then he wouldn't feel hurt. He would probably not even remember him.

Maya had travelled to Africa over a year ago and her and Damian hadn't spoken since after they had had a nasty argument before she had left. Damian felt guilt, knowing for a fact that even though he was a monster, Maya would still feel so bad. Why couldn't he do anything right?

Damian’s train of thought quickly turned to his team and by that time his vision had begun to become glazed and wobbly and he could barely even concentrate on anything without a huge headache. He let out a humourless chuckle and ignored the intense pain the vibrations had sent.

His team was a joke. Him being their leader was a joke. They barely even tolerate him as it was. They hate his guts and Damian could understand that. He would hate him too. They would probably be glad that they could have someone else be their leader instead of him being their leader. Probably be overjoyed at the fact that he had died in the most undignified way possible. Old and New would probably make it an anniversary party.

He thought of Wallace and couldn't help the tears. He had thought what he was doing was the right thing but instead it had done the complete opposite. He wished he could go back in time like the speedster could and apologies for being a nuisance. For being a pain. For being the worst person alive.

His old team had abandoned him the first moment they got, happier with his older brothers, far away away from him. And no matter how badly he wanted to blame them he knew they had every right to want to leave him. He just wished it didn't hurt so much.

Black spots began invading his vision every time he tried to focus on something and it truly was starting to grate on Damian’s nerves.

Suddenly he felt a rush of air next to him and heard a couple of thuds and horrified gasps.

“What the fuck happened!!?!” that voice sounded oddly like Todd and it sounded… worried.

“Todd?”

“And us baby bat.” said Grayson somewhere near him but Damian was too out of it to notice where.

“Don't forget us.” that sounded oddly like Wallace.

“What-what are you doing here?” he asked between gritted teeth as he tried his hardest not to scream in pain.

“Rescuing you, of course! What else!” that sounded like…Jonathan.

“I thought a baby Hitler wasn't worth saving.” he snarled as much as he could considering his circumstances. Shit why the fuck did he suddenly feel cold.

“I’ll deal with you later Kent! For now Damian is my priority.” snapped someone but he couldn't pinpoint who they were.

“Shouldn't all of you be glad?” He was genuinely confused. Why weren't they congratulating Jon.

“Why would we be glad?”

“Cause I'll be dead soon. You all hate me and now that I'm finally gone you won't have to deal with me anymore. It'll be like how all of you wanted.” he didn't know if it was the blood loss making him out of it that he would say that but he knew he didn't have much blood left to blush.

“We don't hate you!”

“Could have fooled me.” another sharp pain shot through him. “Oh shit, that's not good.”

“West, take him to the med bay at the watchtower.”

“Ye sir. How did this even happen?”

“Cause you all told me to let it happen.” when he heard his brothers confused noises he elaborated. “You all told me I should let the bullies do whatever. That I shouldn't use my strength against the ‘innocent’.”

“Fuck we-”

“Not now. Wally watchtower now. Oracle, find the footage. We have brats to hurt.”

And suddenly he was being woodshed away.

Damian couldn't help but think that maybe they did care. Maybe they do love him. Maybe they don't hate him. Maybe Jon still wants to be his best friend. Maybe his teammates don't hate him.

But probably not.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

[gacuseni]

The last three hours had been not interesting. Batman and Robin were during their daily, or nightly patrol. There was nothing special about it, it had been pretty old fashioned. There had been two attempts of robbery, a minor gangster fight, and one attempt of kidnapping. It wasn't exactly too calm to put Batman or Robin nervous, but it was calm enough for a normal patrol in Gotham.

Batman had never liked the quiet though. And Robin had learnt from his father, he had a bad feeling about it, a feeling he couldn't quite name, but he had a feeling as if someone had could happen at any moment if they lowered their guard.

And they were right. As Robin was talking to the owner of the store they had just saved from a couple of armed guys, Batman heard a noice coming from the back alley, something had fell, at first he thought it could be a stray cat messing around, but he still got closer just to check.

"You better hurry! We don't have all day!"

Batman opened his eyes, he knew that voice, Harley had escaped a couple of months ago from Arkham, but she had gone quiet ever since. What was she doing there?

Robin looked at his father, he said something else to the owner of the shop and quietly followed him to the alley, he was about to ask, but his father make him a sign to keep quiet.

Aside from Harley, there were also some men on the alley. Each one of them was carrying a box and placing them inside a truck, Harley was looking at them impatiently. When the last one man arrived, he almost dropped the box as he placed it.

"Careful!!! We don't want to break it, don't we?" Harley said. And then she kicked the man in the chest making him fall.

The man tried to protect himself as he fell to the ground and covered himself with his arms.

For some reason Harley was apparently not in the mood to punch people, or she was really on a rush to arrive to wherever she was taking the boxes on the truck.

She looked around to check if someone else was following, she didn't notice the couple of bats that were looking at her from the other side of the alley.

Harley looked at the man on the floor. "That's what I thought, now get on the truck!!" The man, who was apparently also the driver followed her orders quickly and got to the driver's seat before the rest got inside and they departed to some place in Gotham.

Batman and Robin hid themselves as the truck exited the alley.

They looked at each other, as is for a fraction of second they had a mental conversation, they already knew what the other was going to do, both nodded before they started following the truck through Gotham's rooftops.

Batman informed to Oracle over the comms that they were following Harley, who was more likely working with the Joker, and that the rest of the bats on patrol should be alert in case they needed backup.

***

After following the truck through half of Gotham they arrived to the decks, more specifically to an abandoned warehouse. Damian was not surprised, the Joker and the rest of criminals should really get another creepy location to do their evil plans. But again, this was Gotham, there were more warehouses than McDonald's in the city.

There was a small window on the ceiling that Batman and Robin used to see what was going on. Joker was already in the warehouse, waiting for the truck.

He smiled with that creepy smile he always had on his face as Harley got out of the truck.

There was too much noice inside and outside to hear clearly what was going on, but Robin knew the couple was talking about the boxes, while they were watching from the hidden window in the corner of the roof.

Robin was ready to jump in the moment it was needed, his father on the other side was observing, analyzing the boxes that the men were opening.

"Hm" he made that noice he used so much as both Batman and Bruce. "They look like materials for his gas. There is also some new stuff, he might be changing the formula." He said through the comms. He then looked at his son, who was not really paying attention to him, but instead was about to jump through the window. "Robin, no. It can be dangerous, you will have to wait here until I say so."

Robin looked at his father, who was back at looking at the boxes, he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, just waiting for some orders. The night had been boring for him, and now that it started to get interesting, he was ordered to wait in there.

Batman was about to go inside when Joker and Harley stopped talking after one of the men had approached the Joker and said something to his ear. Joker nodded and then looked at Harley.

"Bring her here." The Joker ordered to Harley.

Harley nodded with a smile, she left and returned a couple of minutes later with a woman around her mid or late thirties, who was cried on the floor after Harley pushed her.

"No! Please! No! Let me go home!! Please! I have a family!" She was shaking her head as she trembled, tears falling down her face. Robin felt anger through his body as the woman continued pleading for her life and safety. Talking about her family and her home. She was just an innocent woman.

Batman noticed how tense his partner was, he was also not happy about this, but he covered it better than his son.

The Joker's smile was getting bigger and bigger as the woman cried and pleaded. At some point Robin was sure it couldn't get any bigger.

As Harley approached the woman ready to beat her with her bat, Robin decided it was finally time to do something. Orders be damned, so he started moving toward the window.

Batman glared at him, but Robin ignored his father, while he kept approaching to the window. Hiding in the shadows without anyone noticing him.

And finally, he jumped to fight the men.

"Robin, no!" He could hear his father yelling at him, but he ignored him, again. He could hear the exasperated sigh his father gave, he didn't looked back, but he could perfectly visualize his father's frown under the cowl, pinching his nose.

He landed along the shattered glass, making a noisy entrance that directed the attention to him and not the woman. Good, he thought.

"Oh look the little bird is here." Harley spoke, she glared at the men behind her. "What are you waiting for? Go get him!"

Robin took the first two men down, leaving them unconscious in the floor. They were sloppy and useless, he wasn't surprised.

Robin smirked at Harley as another couple of men attacked him and he took them down easily.

"Ugh!! Why can't nobody do something right?!" She screamed, then she looked at other four men "What are you people looking at?! Do something! Or are you waiting for a lollipop?! You are absolutely useless!"

The four men quickly ran towards Robin.

He dodged the first two men easily, but as he was about to punish one of the men, he looked at his left where he saw the Joker about to hit the woman with a crowbar, and Robin got distracted.

He had let his guard down, and never noticed that one of the men had a knife. A knife he used to stab him on his right leg, as the other man hit him on the face.

He was about to get another hit when a dark shadow landed in front of him, taking down the man who had stabbed him.

"Robin!" Batman yelled to his son, as he continued to take down the men. Robin had to admit they were at least brave, or very stupid, as they continued to get up and keep fighting them. "What the hell we're you thinking?! I told you to wait!"

Robin punched one of the men on his stomach as he looked at the woman being hit by the Joker, who had started laughing. Ugh, he really hated that laugh, it always got on his nerves.

"Less talking more acting, you can scold me later father."

Robin quickly ran towards the Joker, who was about to hit the woman once again, she was half reacting by now, Robin wasn't sure if it was because of her injuries or some sort of shock.

He took some speed before he make a flip and he kicked the creepy clown on the face, as he yelled to the woman to move, giving her time to react and get away from the clown. Batman helped her get out of the warehouse quickly.

Robin was supposed to follow Batman and the woman to the outside, but when he was halfway there, Harley grabbed his cape and tossed him to the men who restrained his arms.

He looked at the door, Batman was probably outside by now and would soon realize Robin hadn't got out yet.

Robin tried to kick one of the men grabbing him, but he kicked him first on his stab wound, making him hiss in pain.

Joker looked at him, and finally proved Robin wrong.

His smile could get bigger. And let me tell you, it was not a pleasant image. Damian wished he could forget it.

"Oh look, the little birdie wants to take someone's place."

"Shut the fuck up" Robin was able to kick the Joker on the stomach, but when he was about to punish him again, was hit on his use and fell to the ground.

He turned around to look what was going on, Harley had a grin on her face as she got in position to hit him again. With the crowbar Joker had been using.

"I think the little kid wants more! So fun he could join us in our play date! Don't you think pudding?" She exclaimed as she hit Robin repeatedly, her voice getting angrier as her hits were getting harder.

Robin grunted in pain as he tried to stand up, just as the Joker kicked him to the floor. He used the moment Joker started laughing to kick him on his legs, taking his to the ground and standing up.

He didn't noticed when Harley had got behind his back and was about to hit him with the crowbar until he heard a noise similar to a punch. When he turned back he saw his father was back, and was fighting with Harley, taking her away from him and starting their own fight.

And here is the thing. Robin might be a trained soldier. Damian may have trained his entire life ever since he was born and was able walk and grab a sword.

But the Joker was a hard opponent in a one vs one fight, even to Batman. So it was even harder for Robin, specially with him being injured.

That didn't stopped him, Robin continued to fight the Joker, but he was getting tired, his leg was hurting a lot, the stab wound felt like fire on his leg, he was sure a part of the knife was still in there, and he also probably had a broken nose because it wouldn't stop bleeding, and a small concussion aside with some broken ribs.

The point is, odds weren't good for him, is his father didn't take Harley down soon and helped him, he wasn't sure how long he could keep going.

And the Joker didn't looked like he was getting tired, or as if he was going to get tired at some point soon, or at least soon enough for Robin to get away from him.

Robin tried to jump to avoid a low hit, but when he did his leg starting hurting a lot, causing him to loose balance.

The Joker used this to grab his arm and twisted it in an unnatural way, making Robin to hear the crack of his bone, breaking in two or maybe more parts.

Robin cried in pain. This made the Joker laugh, he was finally getting what he wanted.

The joker grabbed the crowbar that had fell a few inches away from them, and hit Robin on his head. Hard.

He may had hit him more than once, that was very possible. But after that first hit everything had become blurry for Robin, he couldn't focus well and he couldn't keep his balance. He shook his head as he tried to focus and keep fighting. Every time it was getting harder, but he needed to, he needed to-

"ROBIN!"

Robin looked around, someone had called him right? But they had said Robin...Damian knew that a Robin was a bird, his name was Damian wasn't it? Why would someone call him as a bird?

He lost his train of thought, tried to focus on what he was doing, he was on the floor? He didn't really knew, but everything was too dizzy, and he was getting too tired to think, his head hurt, his leg hurt, his arm hurt, everything pretty much hurt and he couldn't remember why.

There was this laughing he could hear distantly, Damian didn't liked it, he wanted it to stop, but he could also hear another voice, and he knew that voice, that voice knew him too right?

While Robin had been fighting against the Joker, Batman had tried his best to get rid of Harley, and get as fast as possible to his son, he knew he was tough, but Jason had also been though and wasn't able to get away from the Joker.

He had already called Oracle and contacted the rest, he just hoped they could arrive soon.

Batman looked at his left, Robin was struggling, he knew it. Joker was hitting him and laughing, and Batman just saw red.

He was finally able to finish the fight, punching Harley so hard she fell unconscious to the floor.

As he turned again to his left, Robin was barely conscious, laying on the ground. Joker had seen how he knocked out Harley, and probably left him there.

"Robin!" He called his son, trying to make him stay awake. "Hang on, hang on." He said as he grabbed his son.

He looked to the place where he had left Harley, she was not there anymore. Batman didn't cared about her, Robin was hurt, and badly.

"Ba bye Batsy! See ya!!" The Joker said through a speaker that had been left in the warehouse. But Bruce was too busy and too worried to get away with Damian, and then get him help as fast as possible.

"Batman to Agent A, I need the batmobile ASAP, Robin injured, what's the ETA?"

Alfred had said something about less than ten minutes and asked Robin's state. Batman was about to answer when Damian talked.

"F-Father?"

"Yes Damian?"

"I-I'm tired..."

"I know you are, but can you please, just stay awake? Can you do that? Just until we get to the med bay and Agent A checks on you, you will rest then." Bruce told his son.

Damian lightly nodded his head, but still his eyes were closing and were not focusing anymore, that was not a good sign, and Damian shouldn't sleep with a concussion before he gets checked.

Bruce had to take him out of there now. Damian was loosing blood, and he was loosing him.

He looked around for the exit, Joker had blocked the main entrance and Bruce wasn't sure he couldn't get them both out through the window with his hook.

Then he heard it.

A bomb.

There was a fucking bomb in the warehouse.

Bruce quickly searched for it with the look.

'Oh shit...please no' He thought.

There were just a few seconds left.

He knew he couldn't get Damian away that fast in his condition. But he needed to try, he took out his grappling hook and started taking them both out, they could make it out, they still had time to at least get to the roof.

Bruce then made the mistake to look back at the bomb.

Three seconds left.

There was no way they could make it out.

Two seconds left.

Bruce hugged Damian in a way to protect his son from the explosion and the impact. Damian curled himself and grabbed his cowl.

One second left.

He was just hopping that he could take most of the impact, as he wasn't sure if Damian would survive it. He closed his eyes and grabbed his son as hard as he could.

BOOOOM

They both were sent away flying, Bruce couldn't protect Damian from more than some rocks and things that were sent flying away.

At some point he momentarily lost consciousness on the air, everything was going in slow motion, and when he gained again he realized his grip on Damian wasn't as hard as he thought, and his son's body slipped away through his fingers.

Bruce remembers how they were both smashed into a wall. Damian hit the wall with his head, loosing completely conscience.

And then Bruce got lost in the darkness as well.

Continue reading in Ao3

[pricetagofficial]

Ghost -Part Fourteen

Warnings: Language, angst, Rory and Roy being good siblings

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.7K

Tag List: @kishony-the-geek​ @idkmanicantenglish​ @unknowntoanyone​ @subtleappreciation​ @catxsnow​ @spxder-mxns​ @screennamealreadyused​ @river-bottom-nightmare​ @woahjaybird​ @bikoncon​ 

A/N: Is this an actual part where no one is fighting and Rory has some actual development? 

Rory sat on the bench in the cave as her foot tapped against the rock floor, the sounds echoing across the floor. She was waiting for Oliver to arrive, Dinah had stayed behind in Star City to watch over it while he came to see her.

She didn't regret calling them and telling them, but Rory knew what she was in for it when Oliver arrived. Roy had gotten there the day before and the first words out of his mouth were "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Roy was currently the only other one in the cave with her, Bruce and Tim were at WE for the day with Jason off doing who knows what while Damian was at school and Duke was upstairs with Dick, Steph, and Cass. Barbara was with her dad for the afternoon and that left Rory and Roy alone to welcome Oliver.

Just one look at her and Roy could see that she was nervous as hell. Kneeling in front of her, Roy placed a hand on her knee to make her stop bouncing. "You need to calm down Twinkle-Toes, everything will be alright."

Rory looked at him, she could see the dark circles under his eyes, and he looked worse for wear since she had seen him last in Bludhaven. His hair was longer, and he looked thinner. Rory secretly hoped that he didn't fall back into those bad habits again, it was something she was going to have to ask about later.

"What if he decides to disown me, Roy? I broke every rule he had set, along with his trust. I don't blame him if he even fires me from the vigilante life because I deserve it." she muttered.

Roy made her look at him and gave her a look. "After everything that has happened, Oliver would not disown you. If that was on his agenda, he would have done it years ago Rory. He wouldn't leave you, not when you need him."

She let out a sigh and looked at her hands. "I guess you're right. I just... I just don't want to disappoint him."

"You could never do that even if you tried."

Both Rory and Roy turned and saw Oliver at the bottom of the stairs, his beard was longer than she had seen it last and his blonde hair was slowly going gray with age. Before she could even say another word, Rory got to her feet and ran full speed at Oliver who pulled her into a hug.

She held onto him so tight that Oliver was scared she was going to suffocate him, but that didn't stop him from holding his daughter close to him refusing to let go. Looking at her, Oliver almost didn't recognize her. Rory's hair was still the dark ebony color and thought that it was someone else before he heard her speak.

"You could never disappoint me, sweetheart," he muttered into her hair as Rory tried to hold back the tears.

It didn't occur to her just how much she missed him, it had been over a year since she had seen him. The last time she saw Oliver was the Christmas before she left and that was six months before.

"I'm so sorry Oli, I messed up big time." she whimpered, gripping the back of his shirt tightly.

Picking her up into his arms, Oliver carried her over to where Roy was still sitting and held her tightly as he took a seat next to Roy. "Tell me everything Kiddo, I'm not going anywhere."

Rory curled up, wiping the tears from her cheeks, and stayed still. "I pissed off the League of Assassins, and now they want me dead."

"How did you manage to piss off the entire League?"

Roy huffed a laugh. "Oliver, did you forget who you are talking to? Rory can piss off anyone if she tried hard enough."

"Not helping Roy," Oliver said looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

Rory chuckled softly, "But he has a point, if I was a meta that would be my power. Pissing people off."

Oliver rolled his eyes and looked down at her, Rory was calmer than she was a few minutes ago but she still looked upset. "Talk to me, what's on your mind?" he asked.

"It's everything, I messed up everything good I had because I wanted to keep everyone safe from the League. If I refused and stayed around, they would have gone after one of you and I couldn't let that happen. So I disappeared, the world thought Aurora Queen was dead and the League did too for a while until about two months ago. They sent Merlyn, Slade, I have yet to see Lady Shiva, and Cheshire." Rory explained and looked over at Roy. "She said hi, by the way, you know after she stabbed me with her sword."

Roy's face flushed as he glared at her, his relationship with Cheshire had been a shifty one. They trusted each other, but then they didn't at the same time. How could he be with someone who cared, but didn't care?

"I never thought you were dead and neither did Dinah, we knew what you were doing the entire time," Oliver said, making both of his adopted kids look at him. "We knew you were Ghost from the moment we saw the footage from Bruce, and we aren't mad," he explained.

Rory's breath caught in her throat at his words, getting up and running a hand through her hair. What did that mean? How long has he known it was her, and why the hell didn't he stop her? She had managed to fool the whole world except Malcolm, Oliver, and Dinah. They were the people who trained her into what she had become of course they would recognize her. Malcolm turned her into a weapon and Oliver and Dinah helped her come back from it, maybe this time they could help her come back from it this time.

Turning to look at Oliver, she took a deep breath. "If you knew, why didn't you stop me?" she asked. "You saw what I had become, so why didn't you come and stop me from going down that path?" Her voice had turned into a whisper as she talked, scared of what his response would be.

"I couldn't stop you any more than I could stop Roy from making decisions. If there is one thing I raised you both to be, it's to be independent. I wanted the two of you to be able to make your own choices and act on what you thought was best." Oliver looked at Roy before he looked at Rory, "Even if I wanted to stop you, I knew that you wouldn't listen to me no matter how hard I tried. I could be blue in the face and you would refuse to listen to me."

Hearing what he said, Rory knew he was right. She had convinced herself that she was right, that it was the only way to stop the League and keep everyone she loved safe, but what if there was another way? Could she leave the life of an assassin behind, and go back to who she was before all of this started? Could she even get Tim back, and keep the promises they made to each other?

"I know there is more on your mind, what's really got you down?" Oliver asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Rory knew what he was getting at, it was obvious that something had been on her mind since Tim said those words to her the other day. Without even knowing it, Tim had broken her heart but she deserved it for all that she did to him. Tim was the most important person in the world to her, but there was a slim chance that they could ever be what they were again.

"Just because you two and Dinah forgave me, it doesn't mean that others will as well," she said softly.

"You mean Tim?" Oliver asked.

Rory's silence answered the question for him of course it was Tim that was on her mind. Ever since they came back into each other's lives three years ago, he had been the only thing that was ever on her mind. When Oliver visited on her birthday her first year in Gotham, he could see then how they felt about each other and was not surprised to hear that they had started dating.

Watching them over the next few years, Oliver saw them fall more and more in love to the point he thought that they were going to take that next step in their relationship. But then Rory disappeared without a trace. Feelings like that don't just go away, no matter how hard you tried.

"Have you asked him to forgive you yet?" Oliver asked.

"He refuses to even stand in the same room as me, you really think he will forgive me Oli? What I did was unforgivable, I said awful things to him because I knew he would follow me. Tim is so much more important than I am, he has WE and his life here in Gotham. If I gave him the chance, he would have packed everything up and followed me across the world and abandon everything here." she explained.

"But that doesn't mean he still doesn't care for you." Roy tried.

"He'd be an idiot for doing so, Tim is better off without me." she answered quickly, "and I am nothing more than a cold-hearted assassin to them. I am not worthy of their forgiveness."

Roy crossed his arms and huffed a laugh. "You really are an idiot Twinkle-Toes, some of them already have forgiven you."

Turning to look at him, Rory narrowed her eyes. "You didn't see their face when I came back to town, Jason said he wanted me out of this city the first chance I got. The second the coast is clear, I'm gone. Dick only tolerates me because he is too nice to throw me out on the street only to be killed by a group of assassins."

"That's funny because all I've heard is the good things you've done since you've gotten here." Roy countered.

"I have not done anything good, Roy! What aren't you understanding about this!?" she cried.

Roy got to his feet and looked down at the girl he considered a sister. "You are the one who isn't understanding Aurora! If none of them trusted you, or even forgave you why are you here and not in Belle Reve? Bruce has had every chance to throw you in prison, as have the others. So why haven't they?" he asked, his voice rising in volume with each sentence.

Rory stared up at him in silence at a loss for words, he was right. They had every right and opportunity to throw her in prison so why was she still in the cave?

"Because just like with us you're family and Bruce and I protect our family," Oliver said getting to his feet.

Rory could no longer fight the tears, everything they had said made sense. Ever since she arrived back in Gotham, Rory had been holding onto that fear that they hated her because it was easier than accepting the fact that they could still care for her even after all she did to them. If she was in their place, Rory would have forgiven any of them in a heartbeat because they were safe and alive.

Oliver and Roy pulled her into another hug, keeping her close to their chests. "No matter what you do, you're family and we take care of our family."

After Rory calmed down from their talk and washed any trace of tears off her face Bruce appeared in the cave once more and sat with the three of them talking about what the best course of action to take was. There were currently four assassins in Gotham after Rory and they all knew that they would stop at nothing to accomplish their mission.

A popular theory was to have Rory come back into the spotlight through Queen Consolidated, but Rory shot that down quickly. Even if she led the high profile life again, they would still come after her. Roy thought of possibly fighting them off to make them concede and leave on their own accord, but even he knew that was a far fetched idea.

Rory thought about what Tim had been trying to tell her the other day during the last time they spoke. She regretted snapping at him, and not letting him speak but she was in a bad mood and only made the situation worse. With a deep breath, she voiced her thoughts.

"Tim was trying to tell me something the other day, about smuggling me out of the city. I never let him finish and we are currently not talking to each other, but he might have been onto something there," she explained.

Bruce looked over at her and nodded, "He did mention a place you could go and hide until we find a way to take care of this."

"There's not many places four assassins can't get into. I mean, I highly doubt they would all work together to get to her. Where exactly could she go?" Oliver asked.

"Tim's idea was taking her with him to Jump City. There's enough of them there that it would cause a deterrent on attacking her and possibly give us enough time to get things taken care of here." Bruce explained.

Roy and Rory both looked at each other, years ago he was part of the Titans based in Jump City along with Dick, Wally, Donna, and several other of their friends. It was because of this, Rory had actually met Donna and Wally. But now it was run by Tim and the team consists of him, Conner, Cassandra Sandsmark, Bart Allen, and Althea Einar.

Rory and Conner were great friends before she broke Tim's heart at least, and she had met Bart and Cassie officially last year when they popped in for a visit. The only one she had not met was Althea, who was Zatanna's cousin and her protege.

"That's not exactly a bad idea," Rory started. "Tim and I, when we aren't screaming at each other, are a good team in itself and can keep them at bay but adding them and their skills could keep them off my ass for a little while."

"And since it's in the same state anyway, Dinah and I can pop in every so often and check on them and assist if they need it," Oliver mentioned, looking at Roy. "And I know he wouldn't mind visiting every so often either."

Rory looked between the three of them, trying to see if anyone was going to object. It didn't take long to notice that they were all on board with the plan, but that only left one more thing to do. "Someone's gotta tell Tim and the others that I'm coming," Rory said, crossing her arms.

"I can take care of that, you focus on packing. We'll figure a way to get you out of town soon." Bruce said.

"Better you than me old man, now if you'll excuse me I have one bag total to pack and an escape from Gotham to plan." she grinned and walked off towards the cell that held her bag.

[adragonhoardingstories]

Daminette AU (Part 9)

Marinette just hung back with Chloe and watched The Trainwreck happen. 

At first Lila had turned on her, tried to ask her about what they were talking about but she simply told her that it was none of their business. 

It seemed like some of the more sensible people in their class was having their turn with the shared braincell because they rose up against Rossi and started questioning her on her lies. 

That is, until someone interrupted them. "Alright punks, everyone from Paris can shut the hell up, you can solve your issues later. I'm Jason Todd, taking over your tour group and I will not tolerate any lies and slander about my family."

Marinatte blinked at the man she saw and pinched herself. Yep, not a dream. 

He was tall and obviously very bulit, was wearing a leather jacket and rocked a while streak in her hair but most importantly, he was very familiar.

How could she have missed this? 

The Waynes, of which Tim and Jason were part of was not unfamiliar to her. She had switched with Damain several times when he was with his family.

Though, she reasoned, it was mostly when he was in mask that they switched. When they switched outside of masks, Marinette tended to make the swiftest exist so that they didn't see her eyes. That caused that she had barely seen the other family members of Damian. 

Which was also apparently why she hadn't known until then that Jason Todd, Damian's older brother was also her Gotham childhood best friend. 

"Jay-jay?" She couldn't help but ask. 

Jason's head snapped to her, his hand going to his head and wincing. 

He shook his head. 

"Do I know you? I feel - I feel like I know you but I can't remember...from where."

It wasn't strange that he didn't recognize her, she had changed a lot since those days but holding his head and that wince certainly was concerning, notwithstanding of the fact that her magic could see death surrounding him. 

...so much death...he shouldn't even be alive…

She suddenly felt an inexplicable need to cataclysm a clown.

"It's Marinette." She said hesitantly. "You might remember me better as Netta."

He stared at her for a moment before he broke into a grin and the next thing she knew, she was swept up in a bear hug, her feet not even touching the ground. 

"Sunshine! I thought you were dead. You just disappeared one day. Do you know how worried I was? What happened?"

He put her back on the ground and ran a hand through her hair - she had never been so thankful for her new pixie cut. 

"Look at you. You're still so tiny, oh my God, I feel the protective instincts kicking in, I need to find the bubble wrap."

Marinette jokingly punched his stomach, both of them completely oblivious to their bewildered audience. 

"I could kick your ass back then and I can still kick your ass now. Don't try me."

"I don't doubt it." He put his hands up in surrender. "But seriously, what happened all those years ago?" 

"Well 'bout a week before I went missing, there was a murder in Crime Alley, the Stevensons."

"The one who got stabbed like 38 times of something."

"No-no, the one who got shot in the balls."

"Oooh yeah, I remember. That was hilarious." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Well somehow they found out that I was present there around the time of the crimes scene and they picked me. Had to give a statement and all that, except they didn't let me go back. Child services made me end up in Paris. "

"But wait - I was with you that night, how come they didn't come after me?"

"Well they did try to get me to tell them where they could find you but I wasn't gonna rat out my best friend." 

"Aww Sunshine." He hugged her again and she laughed. "Enough about me, how did you end up with the Waynes?"

"Well since I didn't have you spotting me, I ended up getting caught by Bruce trying to steal the tires of his car. It was like a week after I last saw you."

She slowly grinned. "You couldn't even last one week without me." 

He laughed before picking her up and putting her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Yes, so don't you dare leave me again. Actually just to be sure, I'm going to kidnap you."

She laughed, not having felt this happy for years, and easily slid out of his grip by vaulting over his shoulders. 

He grinned, turning to look at her, most probably having expected her actions since she never had liked being manhandled. 

"You two know each other?" A very amused voice cut in. She knew that voice. She turned to see one very gleeful Dick Grayson looking at them. 

"Know each other?" Jason laughed while she was just there thinking how pissed Damian was going to be that she met everyone all of his brothers before she did him. "Big Wing, we lived on the streets together, she's literally my partner in crime."

She had almost forgotten that the rest of her class was there but apparently Lila had enough of the attention not being on her. They didn't all know English but all of them could at least understand the basics. 

"I'm not surprised that a thing like her comes from the streets, after everything that she's done to me, it make sense that she's a criminal."

She saw Jason tense up and reach inside his jacket. Both he and Dick reached out to him. She put a hand on his arm and shook his hand. 

"Jason no."

"I won't hurt her, just put the fear of God in her." He hissed. 

"Are you out of your mind?" Dick hissed. "B won't let this pass."

She chose another approach. "Come on Jay-jay, we both know you don't need a gun to put the fear of God in her." Marinette whispered.

His eyes were narrowed. "But it's more effective this way." 

She smiled teasingly, willing her own aura to seek his and calm him down. "Maybe later, there's too many witnesses right now." 

She felt his muscles relax and he gave her a smile. "How did I survive without you?"

"You tell me." She stepped back. 

He sent Dick a look. "I'm still going to tell her a few things but I won't take it out." 

He looked unsure so she pushed. "He won't." It was a warning to Jason as well and both of the boys nodded. 

Dick stepped back to stand next to her while Jason stalked towards the class. 

"You two seem close. He wouldn't just listen to anyone like this after all these years."

"Jason's basically my brother." She said. "I thought he'd be one of my soulmates too but our ways parted before it could form."

"Oh." He said, because how else could you respond to something like this?

"But enough about this," she looked around and saw that they were far enough from everyone. Still she lowered her voice before speaking out the next part. "How have you been Nightwing? It's been a while since we talked."

He startled, turning to look at her, and she could tell that he was prepared for a fight but she was the personification of calmness as she met his eyes. 

He startled in recognition before he relaxed almost immediately. 

"Marinette?" He grinned when she nodded. "Oh Mari, Little D is going to be so happy to see you." 

Jason was not shouting yet but it was a near thing. Dick looked at him then back at her. "Oh this is great, now you only have to meet Tim."

She giggled. "Done that too actually. I bumped into him this morning, he was very very sleep deprived. I gave him my coffee and bought him back here."

He snorted. "You've already won over everyone huh? Bruce's gonna love you. Oooh, Bruce and Damian are coming over. They heard about the liar and wanted to come here personally. This is going to be great." 

But she had zoned out on the last part. There was something wrong here. Her eyes zeroed on a woman, seemingly an employee as they walked towards the group, more specifically towards Jason. 

She had a creepy smile on.

"Jay duck." Marinette screamed, letting her instincts take over. Thankfully, Jason was fast enough. The...needle? The needle stabbed the air instead of his neck and before the woman could do anything else, Marinette was already there and had swiped her off her feet. Jason kneed her unconscious before she reached the ground. 

"How did you-? I didn't even see her?" Dick rushed over. "Little Wing are you alright?"

"Stop your mothering." Jason batted his hands away. "Sunshine saved me, didn't she?" He reached out to ruffle her hair again and at that moment a silver string appeared, linking them. 

Everyone around them fell quiet...that is, until she hissed an I knew it!. Jason laughed, pulling her in a hug while Dick and Chloe congratulated them. 

[redhoodieone]

Star-Crossed Universe

A/N: Yes!!! I’M BACK!!! This project has been on the back burner for so long and its finally time to upload it on here. I’m not sure what you all will think but hey...it’s fan fiction and everything and anything goes.

Warnings: Language, Humor (bad and good jokes), Sexual Conversations, and an ultimate Team-Up.

Plot: When Y/N is thrown into a mission way out of her league, she, and magician best friend Zatanna must stop strong demonic forces from entering earth through an unknown portal that John Constantine may have opened. With the assistance from the Dark Knight himself, a mysterious 1967 black Impala arrives in Gotham just when things start to go to hell. But who called the Winchesters? Why is there a clairvoyant bond between Y/N and Dean Winchester? And why does Castiel, an angel of the Lord, believe John Constantine isn’t who he says he is? And will Dean wear the Batsuit?

Move over Scooby-Natural because it’s Batman’s turn! The Winchesters join Batman and Y/N (You!) in taking down a villain who isn’t an everyday monster for Supernatural!

Please enjoy and comment! If you want a Part 2, please let me know.

  Part 1

 I don’t remember a time where tears felt like my own. Of course, it doesn’t help that I’m standing on the ledge when Gotham is down pouring like it always does at night. It shouldn’t be a surprise, really. Gotham is the only city in the US of A that is dark, depressing, manic, and suicidal.

 Even Superman refuses to stay here for more than a day.

 I’m not any better. The only reason why I’m literally dangling my feet over the edge is because I’m numb.

 Numb to feelings.

Numb to pain.

Numb to life.

 Bottom line is breakups fucking suck period. Especially if your ex-boyfriend is Bruce Wayne.

 And Batman.

 I don’t know why I put myself through this. The bitter pain of having to work with someone you love but to know they’ll never love you as much. Maybe this is why I should have never worked with Bruce.

 Dick left first and has successfully made a name for himself, Nightwing, in Bludhaven.

 Jason comes and goes throughout the months and has his own team of misfits who do good but cause chaos as well.

 Even Tim and Damian are working together. They’re training and leading the Titans. The last I heard from them is that they’re doing just fine.

 Except me.

 Who am I kidding? I can’t compare myself to Bruce’s kids even though I’m closer to Dick’s age than Bruce’s.

 Maybe that’s why it didn’t work out between us. Bruce is almost my father’s age, late forties early fifties. And he’s still sexy as fuck; stronger than ever.

 And here I am in my early thirties, expecting more than just a wordless promise of something more than casual sex and the uncertainty of the future.

 After three months ago, I’m trying desperately hard to not care anymore. The only constant thing in my life is being Night Bat, and I’ll die with only that part of me.

 Death.

 The one place where everything and nothing hurts anymore.

 “Y/N.”

 My head jerks to the right side where Zatanna is standing. With her hands on her hips, I can see her blue eyes blinking sadness and guilt. For a beautiful woman like Z, her broken expression is almost tragic enough to make me cry like her.

 If my own tears were my own. Maybe my tears are Gotham’s.

 “It’s Etrigan. He’s...” Zatanna chokes on her words. She literally holds her neck and tries to stop sobbing. “He’s dead.”

 I can feel my eyebrows raise as confusion and disbelief crash over me.

 “Dead?” I repeat. I can’t even believe that word is coming from my mouth. Etrigan is tough. Etrigan is a shithead. Etrigan cannot be dead. “How?”

 Zatanna shrugs her shoulders as her lips quiver. Seeing her broken up makes me feel like an asshole for not comforting her. So, I stand up and go over to her. Taking her by surprise, I hug her tightly.

 She’s my best friend. My sister. My partner in crime whenever we get into bad shit. (Sometimes...maybe).

 After Zatanna hugs me, she takes a step back and wipes her tears with her gloved hand.

 “He-he was stabbed. I... I don’t know by what but he bled and he was never one to really bleed, you know? I checked everything out and he’s dead. He’s really gone. But it was...a very fucking strange thing. Really,” Zatanna rambles on anxiously. Whenever she cusses, I know she’s angry and stressed out. “Whatever killed him, it’s not from around here. What I sensed near him, it’s not human. It’s not magical. It’s not even Kryptonian or extraterrestrial.”

 I swallow hard. “What do you think it is then?”

 “Demonic.”

_________________________________________________

 “Have you contacted John?” I ask. My voice is rough and breathless. I’m busy shoving as much weapons as I can in my backpack, along with a few clothes and a book from Alfred about demonology. He said it was a gift from Constantine himself.

 I stare down at my long, silver triple-edged dagger that I found on one of my solo missions in Kansas when Bruce was fighting

 “Not in... six months.”

 The guilt in her voice makes me turn to glance at her. “Seriously?”

 I glance down at my black pants and boots to make sure I’m appropriately and comfortably dressed for tonight. I slip on a red and black checkered flannel over my form fitting black tank top.  After rolling up the sleeves to my elbows, I put on my black leather jacket and turn to face Zatanna.

 “What, am I supposed to keep in touch with my ex-boyfriend? I thought ex-boyfriends were meant to stay ex-boyfriends, not friends. And besides, you keep in touch with Bruce,” Zatanna responds smugly.

 “He’s...a co-worker...that’s-thats different.”

 “Bullshit,” Z laughs.

 I roll my eyes. “Whatever. I need a drink before we start...” I say, waving my hand up dramatically. “Whatever this is. I think a stop at Lucky’s is what we need.”

 “A trip to the bar is what YOU need,” Zatanna replies.

 She follows me out of my apartment until we stop in the parking lot where my motorcycle is parked. I don’t see her standing behind me with her arms crossed and eyebrow raised, as I take a seat on my bike and set myself up to ride.

 “What?” I ask, genuinely confused.

 “I could just you know...poof is there.”

 “Yeah, you could like you always do, but I need to ride my baby right now. It’s like, therapy for the low self-esteem, loner, rebels,” I say.

 To my surprise, Zatanna nods her head and gives me a small smile. I’m grateful she understands how much riding my motorcycle makes me happy. Makes me breathe. Makes me feel alive.

 “I’ll see you there, Y/N/N.”

 “See ya, Z.”

 And with that, Zatanna poofs for real. Her magic still surprises me. Whenever I see her perform her spells and tricks, I feel like I’m reliving magic shows I saw as a kid that I used to believe were real and powerful.

 But to know what Zatanna does is real is still unbelievable sometimes.

 And to think we have been best friends for five years now...amazing how time flies by I’m between laughs and heartbreaks.

 Revving my bike, I waste no time speeding out of the parking garage and into the streets of Gotham. The rain and wind in my hair sends me chills, as the lights and buildings pass me by so fast that I feel like everything I see is a blur; almost like in a dream-like state.

 Lucky’s is just a small country rustic bar outside of Gotham. City people usually don’t go there as the place is purely meant for drifters and stranded loners. I happen to love the bar. If I’m ever feeling down or angry, I always drop by to get drunk or frisky if I’m ever in the mood. Bruce was always disappointed in me for that. He always used to say I’m better than that and I shouldn’t put myself down.

 I sometimes think he’d want to say I’m easy, but Bruce is just so complicated sometimes. He can either be a total asshole or be the gentle sweetheart he is. You never know which side you’d see sometimes.

 Almost like Two-Face.

 Swerving into the mud to park alongside trucks and other bikes, I climb off my motorcycle and glance around the dirt lot. I recognize a few vehicles parked already. A new black Escalade parked closer to the bar is different and catches my attention rather quickly.  

 I pull my hair back into a ponytail and start my way over to the expensive ass vehicle when suddenly a black car speeds right pass me and parks right next to my bike, sending mud flying to my pants and on my bike! Rage suddenly takes over me. I can feel my blood boil and my jaw clench as several curse words come to mind. I twist around and instead make my way to that motherfucker’s car.

 A black 1967 Impala? What a fucking joke.

 As if this motherfucker owns this American classic. This self-righteous, prick probably stole it from some old fool or maybe his own old man.

 I’m ready to break this douchebag’s face. Knock all his teeth out and break his cock into two…maybe three pieces.

 I finally reach the driver’s door and quickly open it; door swinging back. This must piss off the man a lot, but I don’t care right now.

“Look, you motherfucker! You think you can just drive like a bat out of hell and get fucking mud on MY baby?!  Get out of this fucking car so I can break you apart with my bare hands!” I yell angrily and loudly.

The man climbs out of his car, but my anger suddenly vanishes. What the hell?

Holy fucking shit…this man is…hot.

Standing at 6’1, this man is almost intimidating. With short brown hair, tan skin, hypnotizing green eyes, and freckles splattered over his nose and cheeks, he’s fucking adorable…and sexy. I can’t help but stare up at him.

He smirks down at me. Underneath his dark jacket, he’s wearing a flannel shirt and black Henley, where I can already see his strong chest, muscled arms, and soft tummy.

“Looks like sweetheart likes what she sees, Sammy. I’d say we made the right choice for coming out to Gotham,” the man speaks smugly. His voice is deep and husky, more addicting than any liquor inside the bar.

Another man comes over to us from around from the car. This man, I’m assuming his Sammy, is FUCKING TALLER than the hot one in front of me!

Sammy chuckles lightly at me. Pushing his longer brown hair from his face, he quickly reaches out to shake my hand.

“Hi, I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean.”

The second those words leave his mouth; we hear someone quickly approaching us. Zatanna. And from the looks of theirs, they’re shocked and surprised to see my friend in her usual, sexy magician number.

Zatanna smiles, nonetheless. “Well, if it isn’t the Winchesters. We’ve been expecting you.”

[we-want-mini-mini]

I’m currently listening to like, old FNAF songs because nostalgia and they’re fuckin’ bops y’all don’t @ me.

Anyways, because of this, I new prompt/oneshot came to mind. The Batfam somehow end up being kidnapped and they enter a version (of the version) of the first (or whichever game) FNAF game.

Like, say that the creator of the game was a Robotics engineer who had hopes of creating a game. So, they create this horror game, and get hella into it, so much so they wrote books, created a sort of real life version of it (miniature tho) and etc etc. Then the Dev presents the game to another branch of the company they work at and it gets shut down. They get laughed at and everything being told that the game would never succeed and etc etc. And adding onto the Developer’s tragic backstory is that they got back stabbed and got their designs stolen by a coworker and got fired for whatever reason.

Anyways, the Developer not only got humiliated, got their work stolen but they even got fired from their dream job. Resentment breeds and then they cronstructe a real life version of the game(s) they created. They went so far as to stay as close to their games lore (in FNAF the animatronics were possessed by kids, same thing applies here). So, this Creator got jilted, back stabbed and humiliated and went a bit crazy and killed a couple kids who “possessed” the animatronics (the kids could actually possess the animatronics or not, up to y’all, but let’s say in this prompt/oneshot, that they did).

Anyways, let’s say Red Hood heard about five kids from Crime Alley that went missing in the exact same location at different dates. This catches his eye and he researches it some more. The more he researches the more he finds out. For one, more then ten kids went missing at this one location (which is this kids pizzeria party hall). Jason, whose known to protect kids, especially if they’re from Crime Alley or are street kids. But, he finds these series of suspected kidnappings/disappearance of these kids really particular. Something is off and he wants to investigate it.

Switch to Red Robin’s POV were he’s out on patrol and finds crates full of various mechanical/robotic parts. He’s, rightfully so, confused as all hell and tries to investigate were the fuck these robotic parts are being shipped and who shipped them. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find anything of substance as whoever ordered these hid their tracks very well. He takes a couple of the parts to analyze back at the Batcave/the Nest. He opens a couple more crates but finds other shit, like painting equipment, marble titles, plaster and other shit that is usually used when someone is renovating a place. They all have the same markings and the like and RR is confused but starts to suspect that one of the Rogues might be up to something. He also has a theory that this might be the work of a new, and upcoming Rogue as the stuff he found doesn’t fit any of their current Rogues MO but he doesn’t ignore the possibility this might be one of their other Rogues work.

Then we switch to Batman’s POV where he was working a different case but then notices something. He notices that someone is skimming money (a fuck load of money) off of this one companies branch and no ones noticed as its covered up pretty well (but Batman caught some minor, but significant inconsistencies). He tried to track the money transcations as he’s worried one of the Rogues might be planning something or something akin to that. The more he digs, the less he can find because everything leads back to shell companies and to stuff that doesn’t exist. The trail is covered up pretty well but this is Batman, he’s the worlds greatest Detective so he manages to find out that the money is being used to buy... paint, titles, chairs, and various other household renovating items? He’s a bit confused but then thinks that this might be Mad Hatter but when he looks into all the stuff that’s being bought, it doesn’t fit Mad Hatters Wonderland Aesthetic/MO. Still, he keeps on eye on the transactions.

Cut to Nightwing & Robin out in Blüdhaven. They’re out on biweekly patrol together. It’s a rather slow night but Robin and Nightwing are having fun (and bonding ofc!). Then, at one point, when the duo stop a mugging, the lady that they saved made an offhand comment about some kids going missing. Robin’s instinct goes off and he asks the woman whats she’s talking about. The woman explains that some street kids she knew from her job at a youth center just stopped coming. She chalks it’s up to her paranoia but she thinks they might have been nabbed. Nightwing cuts in and offers to walk the woman home which they do. Robin is thinking back on the woman’s comment about a few “missing” street kids. He tries to rationalize it as these kids probably just leaving or ending up in a Dention Center but he can’t help but think about it. He remembers something RH said about street kids going missing at this one specific place. He can’t stop thinking about throughout the rest of his and Nightwings patrol. Nightwing notices that Robin isn’t very focused so he asks what wrong. Robin dances around the topic but eventually does tell Nightwing what’s on his mind.

“That woman we saved earlier said something that stuck with me.”

Nightwing raises his eyebrow. “What did she say that stuck with you?” Nightwing knew that trusting ones gut instinct is important. There’s a reason why something’s that might send alarms off. He just hoped Damian could trust those instincts.

“She offhandedly remarked about missing kids. She told us that some kids she knew from the youth center she worked at haven’t showed up in three months. I remembered, earlier something that Red Hood said about streets kids going missing from a specific location, all at varying times.”

Nightwing is a bit surprised, but he’s heard Jason talk about the case. He makes a note to investigate the missing kids in here and compare notes with Jason afterwards. He has a feeling that the missing kids in ‘Haven might be related to the one in Gotham (considering street kids are the ones going missing. That stuck out to him). He reassures Robin that he’ll investigate it, and Robin replies that he wants in. Dick sighs but let’s him (it’s be a great bonding experience! No matter how morbid in retrospect...).

Batgirl (Stephanie!) is out on patrol with Red Robin when they talk about any recent activity they’ve seen. Red Robin makes an offhand comment about how he found crates filled with house renovating shit but he couldn’t trace them back to anyone. Batgirl stops, as she remembered when two weeks back she was at the Harbor and found crates filled with tech and... house renovating stuff. Batgirl then asks Red Robin for the serial number that the crates had, he’s but confused but tells her. Batgirl then realizes, those weird ass crates she found and she couldn’t trace back were the same one Red Robin were investigating. She tells him this, and tells him that she found were one of the crates were being hauled off to. They both decide to cut patrol short (it was almost finished either way, but tonight was uncharacteristically quiet). They both head off to Red Robin’s Nest. They both exchange info about the weird ass crates and theories. Batgirl thinks that this might be the work of a new up and coming Rogue as everything she found in the crates doesn’t suit any of their current Rogues MO. Tim agrees with her, but can’t find anyone that could be their new Rogue.

Now with everyone having different cases, which are all interlocked together let’s get into...

Five Nights At Genni’s

Ft. The Batfam, the Developer, FNAF Case Fic AU, fuck canon because everyone is on pretty good terms, Lots of Dead Kids (👀), And Scary Ass Probably Possessed Animatronics!

COMING SOON!

because I’m to lazy to continue on with the prompt/oneshot but I’ll finish it don’t worry lol

Now, if anyone wants to write a whole ass AU case fix stemming from this prompt/oneshot, go ahead! I’d honestly love to read the Batfam try and piece together the FNAF lore, while within the game itself, while trying to figure who tf is doing all this shit. It’s perfect for like, writing a great case fic, an exploration of the Batfam’s relationship and the Batfam themselves. But, it doesn’t have to be serious! Like, if y’all don’t want to write the part about several dead kids and want to write a semi crack fic centered around the Batfam being within the FNAF games then go for it!

Anyone who sees this, tag your fav Batfam writer! Because I haven’t found when fics where the Batfam ever interact with the FNAF games (whether them as actual games or something like what I wrote above). I’d love to see their takes on this prompt!

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Shadows of the Neon Lights - fic

Characters: Jason Todd, Damian Wayne Summary: He didn’t know what was more surprising - that someone else had come after him, or that it was Jason Todd, of all people, trying to stop him from killing. A/N: For Patreon supporter Leydy! Happy birthday sweet human, and thank you for all your support and kindness! You’re amazing! This is obviously some time after the Teen Titans Annual 2 confrontation/after Ric and Alfred’s death.

~~

He had the man right where he wanted. A wannabe serial killer who hadn’t found his stride yet, but already killed three sex workers. Each in a different way, so no one had found the connection yet.

But Damian had.

He’d followed him for days, and now he had him next to the dumpster behind the strip joint he was casing for his next victim.

The man was sniveling and crying. Begging for his life as Damian pressed the dagger against his throat.

Damian didn’t care. This bastard deserved it.

So he smiled, and pulled the knife back. Then spun it to grasp it in his fist, aimed it to plunge right into the man’s chest.

One less scumbag in the world.

But right as he began to drop his hand, a gunshot rang out, and the blade shattered in his fingers.

The man shrieked, and Damian jumped back with a curse. He glanced over as the Red Hood strolled out of the alleyway, dramatically blowing the smoke from his gun’s barrel.

“What’d he do?” Jason asked carefully, removing his helmet.

“Killed three women. Staking out a fourth.” Damian snapped. “But that doesn’t matter to you, he’s my ki-”

Jason’s gun went off again. The man jerked once, then collapsed to the ground, a hole between his eyebrows.

“Not your kill.” Jason hummed. “Robin doesn’t have kills.”

“In case you haven’t heard.” Damian drawled, kicking at the now-dead man’s leg as he stepped over him. “I’m not Robin anymore.”

“Yeah, B told me.” Jason shrugged, and that seemed to just make Damian more annoyed. “What’s up with that?”

Damian scoffed, crossed his arms and turned to look down the alley behind him. “Like you care.”

“I do, actually. You’re my kid brother, whether either of us like it or not.” Jason countered. “And even I’m not so stubborn as to ignore the fact that we’ve all been through a lot lately. It takes a toll.” Jason glanced down at him. “And no one’s checked in with you about it all, have they?”

Damian refused to look at him. “You said Father told you.”

“He did. But I don’t take his word for anything.” Jason smirked. “…I do believe him on the you not being Robin anymore, and also going on a killing spree thing, though.”

“It’s not a spree.” Damian hissed. “It’s what needs to be done.”

“But not by you.” Jason argued. “I thought Dickie got you off that path.”

Damian turned away from him completely now.

“…Ah. So Bruce was telling the truth.” Jason murmured. “This really is about what happened to Dick and Alfred.”

Damian didn’t answer. Stared down at the dead body.

“What happened wasn’t your fault.” Jason promised. Then he lowered his voice. “Especially not to Alfred.”

“I was there. I should have done something.” Damian whispered.

“You were tied up and unconscious.” Jason tried, stepping forward. “What were you supposed to do?”

“Fight back. Literally, anything.” Damian returned. “But what I didn’t do then, I’m doing now.”

“Killing them before they hurt too many, or anyone else.” Jason nodded. “In their honor, right?”

“I suppose.”

“You weren’t there for Dick’s situation.” Jason crossed his arms now too. Thoughtfully. “How were you supposed to stop that one?”

“Killed KGBeast when he became a known player.” Damian decided. “He would have been dead years ago, so unavailable to take the mission.”

“Sure, then someone else would have been asked to do it.” Jason sniffed. “And then they might have been a better shot.”

Damian didn’t respond to that. Didn’t move. Jason glanced him over, checked for any injuries or illness. Kid seemed fine at a glance. Just dirty, clothes starting to wear out. A few new holes that probably weren’t there when he started this little crusade.

Jason sighed.

“They wouldn’t want this for you, Damian.” Jason whispered. “Alfred or Dick.”

“Well, they’re not here to stop me, are they?” Damian snapped. His arms were still crossed, but now he seemed to bend in on himself. Hug himself.

“No, they’re not.” Jason agreed. “But I am.”

That made Damian turn around in surprise.

“And yes, before you whine about it, I’m fully aware it makes me a hypocrite.” Jason raised his hands in defense. “But we’ve lost enough this year. Excuse me if I’m not keen on adding you and your morality to that damn list.”

“…It’s what needs to be done.” Damian murmured sadly. “And Batman refuses to do it. That’s why, after all these years he’s been active, Gotham is still a hellhole. That’s why he loses those he claims to love time after time after damn time.”

Jason nodded. “Then I’ll do it. Not you.”

“I’m the most equipped to handle it!” Damian shouted now, stomping back at him. “I’ve been trained to do just this for my entire life!”

“And you shouldn’t have been!” Jason yelled back. “Talia should have protected you. Dick should have protected you better. Bruce should have talked to you about all this before he realized you’d already reached your fucking breaking point!”

“So then what else do you want me to do?!” Damian almost begged, tears welling up in his eyes. “Sit at home with the rest of you and grieve? Keep doing everything I was, like the only two people who ever cared about me weren’t ripped out of my life for no reason?!”

“I want you to slow down.” Jason said, tone instantly softer as he took hold of Damian’s shoulders. “I want you to let us take care of you.”

“Well I want to make sure no one goes through what we have.” Damian mumbled in return, the fight instantly leaving his system. “…What I have.”

“And I get that. I do.” He smiled and gestured to himself. “I mean, hello? I totally understand.” He let his smile drop. “But before we take care of everyone else, why don’t we try taking care of you first?” He paused for a second, squeezed Damian’s arms. “Why don’t we do it together?”

Damian just stared at him. “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure. Totally. So can I.” Jason winked. “But humour me. Just this once.”

Damian glanced down at Jason’s hands on his arms. “…You’re not going to let me go until I agree, will you?”

“You were taught better than to let your enemies get too close, remember?” Jason smiled.

Damian sighed and rolled his eyes. “Why do you care so much, Todd? What does it matter to you what I do?”

“Because as surprising as it may be, I don’t want you to end up like me.” Jason said honestly. A little too honestly for Damian’s taste. “You deserve better than… this.”

Damian looked him up and down. “…No I don’t.”

“A debate we can have later.” Jason laughed. “So, what do you say? Will you come home with me?”

Damian immediately jerked back in his hold, almost tripping over the dead body that Jason practically forgot was there. “No. No way.” He said immediately. “I am not going back to the manor.”

“Slow your roll, kiddo, you didn’t let me finish!” Jason called, reeling him back in. “You know I don’t live at the manor. When I say home, I mean come back to my home. A safehouse outside the city.”

Damian hesitated at that, eyeing Jason warily.

“I won’t even tell B that I found you, or that you’re with me.” Jason promised. “And I know you’re already itching to run. So at the very least, let me take you back to my place, get you a hot meal, a shower, and one decent night’s sleep. Then we’ll talk for real after that. Okay?”

Damian tilted his head, glancing up at the strip club in thought.

And it was a 50-50 chance that it would work. It could make the kid collapse in tears, or convince him to pull out that second knife Jason knew he had hidden on him and stab it into Jason’s throat. But he had to try. He had to.

“…It’s what Dick and Alfie would want you to do.”

To his surprise, Damian didn’t react immediately. Still kept his eyes upwards as he thought. Then, finally, he lowered his gaze to Jason. He blinked slowly, and Jason only now realized how tired the kid looked. Sad.

Lonely.

“Fine.” Damian said quietly after a moment. “I will take your food.”

Jason hadn’t realized his heart was tight with tension until it loosened at his words. He smiled and ruffled the kid’s hair as he stood, sliding his other hand down Damian’s arm until their fingers tangled together.

Damian didn’t even try to let go.

Jason glanced back at the dead man – who did deserve it, Damian wasn’t wrong about that – and made sure there was nothing around the body that would implicate Damian at least. When he saw nothing, he nodded and tugged the kid along behind him in the alleyway.

“Have any preference for dinner?”

“…Anything edible, I suppose.” Damian muttered  thoughtfully. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled lightly. Jason smiled sympathetically.

“Well, that rules out anything I know how to cook.” Jason joked. He heard Damian snort a laugh behind him. That was as good a start as any. “So how about we find some nice, greasy takeout instead?”

Damian squeezed his hand, and Jason took that as silent gratitude. A thanks he was too embarrassed to admit. “That sounds perfect.”

[mischiefandspirits]

Colony of Gotham (4/7)

The Colony of Gotham is an urban legend that is whispered about in the dangerous city. It’s said the Colony is a family of demons and spirits that stalk the night, hunting for the souls of the guilty.

When Bruce became Batman, he’d never intended to be mistaken for a demon. He was happy to lean into it, though, and as he gained his partners – as his family grew – they all followed suit.

First Part ~ Previous Part ~ Next Part

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the record: the Flash and Aquaman in the story are Wally West and Kaldur'ahm, which is why they're referred to as second-generation JL. Kon has also passed on the Superboy title to Jon and taken on his own name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Selina found Carrie Kelley when the girl was attacked on her way home from her gymnastics class by a group of older boys. The woman ran them off then checked the girl over. She asked why the girl was walking alone and was annoyed to discover the girl’s parents had forgotten to pick her up from class, and not for the first time. Apparently, she usually would have gotten a ride from her teacher after pretending her parents called to ask, but he had left early because of an emergency and the assistant teacher took the train.

As Selina escorted her home, she tried not to think about how much Carrie reminded her of herself.

She still found herself waiting outside the gym two days later when the girl’s class ended. She watched Carrie wait for nearly half an hour before Selina moved to talk to her. She was surprised when Dick appeared moments later. She’d known the gym was the one he worked at, but it hadn’t occurred to her Dick might be the girl’s teacher.

The two swapped notes after Dick drove the girl home and began an investigation. Selina was half-tempted to just spirit the girl away, but kept things to the legal side of the tracks in the end. Mostly thanks to Dick.

Soon enough, she was the proud adoptive mother of Carrie Kyle. She hadn’t planned on taking in the girl permanently when going into it, but she knew she trusted the system even less with the girl thanks to her own experiences with it. Besides, even if she didn’t know how to parent, she had a wonderful fiancé who had all kinds of kids. One was already even attached to the girl. It’d be a piece of cake.

That confidence lasted a week, at which point she heard a news report about some heiress getting kidnapped while Carrie was at school and the anxiety kicked in. She probably should have called Bruce to talk about it. Instead, she panicked and took Carrie aside when she got home to tell her about vampirism. She then asked if Carrie wanted to be turned.

Carrie, thrilled to have this in common with her new mother, agreed immediately.

Once the girl was sleeping through the transformation, Selina calmed down enough to realize she maybe overreacted and called Dick. Unfortunately, Jason had answered the phone for his brother and put it on speaker without letting her know, which meant he heard everything she said and proceeded to spill her sins to the entire Colony like the little hellion he was.

All of the Colony eagerly accepted the girl into her new life, except Damian.

Something had been gnawing at the boy, and Carrie’s turning brought it to the surface.

Damian was his father’s only child by blood. By right, he should be a vampire. But as his mother was human, he was born human. He knew that vampirism was no more important to being considered family than it was to being a competent vigilante, but it still felt as if it were one more reason he fell short compared to his brothers. He was not chosen as they were. They had had years with his father before he had even met the man, before he had even been born in Dick’s case. And they had all been claimed into his vampiric clan. True, neither Tim nor Duke had been turned by his father just like most of their non-sibling family, but they were still related through vampiric magic.

Damian was not.

Gathering himself up, Damian met his father in his study to request to be turned.

Bruce said no. He wanted Damian to be older before he made a decision like that. When Damian pointed out he and Carrie were the same age and Cass was younger while Tim had been the same age as him when he was turned, Bruce reminded him that none of them had been turned by Bruce. If he had had the choice, he would have made them all wait as well. Damian’s anger grew as his father refused to budge even under his arguments about the life experience he already had and the fact he should have been born a vampire to begin with.

Damian ended up marching off in a fury.

The next time someone saw him was that night when Wally, Artemis, and Dick got back to their shared Blüdhaven apartment from dinner to find the boy sharpening a dagger on their couch. Wally gave the boy a cheerful hello and ruffled his hair, not noticing when the boy was only held back from stabbing his hand by a look from Dick. He did hear Damian’s threat to eviscerate him, but laughed it off as he usually did. Artemis gave the boy a wider birth as she followed Wally into their bedroom.

Dick sat down next to him, but before he could ask him what was wrong, Damian demanded to be turned. While Dick would have been happy to help his baby brother, he had a feeling there was more to it. After a bit of digging, Damian admitted that Bruce wouldn’t turn him so Dick had to. Trying to play mediator, Dick told him he would talk to Bruce and if that didn’t work they could come back to the conversation.

The boy thankfully agreed as Dick knew he would -- he knew his brother really wanted Bruce to be the one to do it -- so Dick went to change while Artemis turned on a movie and Wally slipped into the kitchen to make Damian something to eat. Dick sent Bruce a quick message to tell him where Damian was and that they needed to talk. Afterward, once his brother was fed and Wally finished off the leftovers, they played a few card games until it was time to put Damian to bed in the guest room.

The next morning, Dick and Bruce went back and forth over the phone for an hour before Dick’s voice began to grow loud enough for Wally, Artemis, and Damian to hear him out in the living room. Wally stepped in at that point to help Dick calm down. Cuddled up to his boyfriend, he managed to stay calm enough to get his point across.

He understood that Bruce wanted Damian to be older when he made the choice, but there really wasn’t a choice for Damian at the end of the day. He was a child who wanted nothing more than to feel like he was accepted by his family and that family was made of vampires.

So Dick gave Bruce a choice: either Bruce turned him or Dick would. He gave his father until the end of the week before hanging up.

He then proceeded to spend the following fifteen minutes with his face buried in Wally’s neck.

“Bruce is going to kill me!”

All Wally could do was pat him on the back because honestly, Bruce could be really scary when he tried. Especially when it came to his kids.

Damian stayed with the trio during the week. Meanwhile, Jason was giving Bruce the cold shoulder and hiding out at Artemis Grace’s empty flat. Tim and Duke had made it clear they were siding with Damian, but otherwise kept their opinions to themselves. Barbara, Kate, the Kyles, and the Rows had elected to stay out of the argument altogether.

Stephanie and Bette had teamed up to leave a bunch of pamphlets and essays about the importance of teaching body autonomy on the desk of Bruce’s study, under his pillows, in the pockets of his suit jackets, on the desk in his office at work, and in the cowl of his suit.

Only Damian and Dick were at the apartment when Bruce showed up at the end of the week since Wally had work and Artemis had monitor duty. Both sons were anxious when their father first entered, but relaxed when he set his hand on Dick’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. He admitted that he still thought Damian should wait, but if it was what he wanted, Bruce would support them both. Despite a bit of disappointment still lingering, Damian gave him a small smile before Dick pulled them into a group hug.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearly eight months after Dick turned Damian that Robin finally got his secret twin back.

People had whispered for years about a relationship between Gotham’s demon and the infamous cat burglar that pilfered its high-rises. Some said Catwoman had been trying to gain the Bat’s favor for years in a bid for immortality. Others said it was Batman who chased the Cat, looking to steal her away as his bride. No one could say for sure who was right in the end, nor was anyone sure when the hunter had finally caught their prey, but either way the result was the same.

It started with tales of criminals facing off with Robin, only to turn to find a cat waiting to step in instead of a bat. These tales led many to look back and realize the thief hadn’t been seen for months.

Some mourned her lost humanity.

The only sign of her descent was the way her eyes glowed in the dark behind her goggles, her irises and pupils large like a cat’s. She still had her claws and fangs, and she still knew how to use them. She hunted for blood now instead of jewels and watched over the demon child like he was her own.

And perhaps he was. Robin had come to develop a grace not unlike her own with the balance and reflexes she was known for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first day of winter break did not go well for Thirteen. First, she had gotten woken up by her dad ranting about something or other. Next, they were out of Lucky Charms so she had to eat plain oatmeal. After that, she found out the Teen Titans were on a mission so she couldn’t go hang out with them to get away from her dad’s rants about… ghosts? She was pretty sure she heard something about ghosts. Then, when she finally decided to just do something on her own and took a zeta tube to Denver to go skiing, she ended up stumbling upon some wackjob sorcerer trying to summon a demon or monster or something from… Okay, maybe the day wasn’t a good day for Traci’s attention span.

The point was that the day sucked.

She watched the guy shuffle about the cave rambling to himself -- or maybe her, she wasn’t paying attention -- as she channeled power towards the summoning circle he was using in hopes of stopping his spell from doing whatever it was supposed to do. Apparently, it worked because when the guy raised his hands and started chanting in Sumerian, the resulting bright flash left a girl within the circle instead of some hell beast.

Carrie was confused when she went from watching a movie with her mother one moment to standing in the middle of a cave the next. She took in the shocked face of the guy in the puke green cloak and the nervous expression on the tied up girl and said, “I’m guessing I wasn’t the one you were expecting?”

When puke cloak turned towards his book, huffing and puffing about magic and teenagers, Carrie decked him. He was knocked out instantly so Carrie called him a wimp and went over to free the other girl using the butterfly knife she always kept on her since it was a rare gift from Damian. The two alerted the police then took off, collectively deciding they didn’t want to explain why they were there.

Since Carrie didn’t have her phone and hadn’t bothered memorizing any of her family’s numbers (something she knew would be corrected as soon as she got home), she couldn’t call someone to pick her up. What she did have was her wallet, which included Tim’s debit card (because he needed to keep a better watch on his wallet) and a fake Id claiming she was seventeen (instead of her actual fourteen, because she and Damian bonded by going to the movies). She used the card to buy herself and the other girl, who she learned was named Traci Thurston, tickets on a Greyhound. Traci, not wanting to leave the girl on her own, had pretended she had been taken the same way Carrie was and revealed she was from Metropolis. She tried to object to Carrie buying her ticket, but the other girl waved her off. Her brother wouldn’t miss a couple hundred dollars. And if he did, Bruce would probably pay him back.

The two’s serendipitous two-day road trip turned out fun. They played games and watched videos on Traci’s phone. Carrie bought a pack of cards for them to play with so Traci showed her some card tricks Zatanna had taught her. In return, Carrie showed her some knife tricks Jason and Damian had taught her during rest stops. Traci told her a few stories she’d learned during her magical education and Carrie told her some Gotham myths.

Myths like ones about the demonic bat-man who had slaughtered a child and stolen the soul of a woman so he could create a family for himself, the succubus queen that slit the throat of any man who laid eyes on her and fed them to her undead minion, and the false angels that stalked the daylight.

In Carrie’s defense, Dick was the one who taught her those stories and he’d been telling them to Wally for years. How was she to know that Traci would immediately call Zatanna after Carrie climbed into her cab to make sure demonic monsters had not, in fact, taken over Gotham? Wally just thought Dick was making stuff up! Besides, she didn’t even know Traci was involved with anyone from the Justice League until she reached home and -- after explaining where she’d been to her worried family -- was brought down to the cave by Dick to find out which hero her new friend was.

None of her siblings believed Traci could be a civilian due to their own experience, which turned out to be justified.

It wouldn’t have been a problem if Zatanna waved it off like she’d wanted to do, but instead, the woman had to promise to look into it to get the girl to calm down. She assumed it would just be a monster in the closet scenario.

She was not at all prepared to discover Batman existed, let alone his legion of demons.

Normally demons would be a situation she handled on her own, but the sheer scale of the situation combined with the lack of information on basically anything Gotham had her bringing the rest of the League in on the situation.

Wonder Woman, Superman, and Cyborg were there to represent the founders. Flash, Tigress, Troia, and Aquaman arrived together, representing the second-generation members. The five main Young Justice members came, Nightwing bringing Power Girl and Supergirl along with him since the two had been visiting the former Superboy when he got the call. Last were Green Arrow and Arsenal, who had both been on the Watchtower when the meeting was called and as such ended up joining in despite not being called.

Wonder Woman started the meeting, but quickly handed it over to Zatanna.

When Batman was brought up, Tigress went stiff and Flash frowned. When the magician started to list her findings, few as they were, he leaped to his feet. “Wait, Batman’s real?”

“Yes, and we need to find him.”

Tigress immediately stood and left. Flash was about to follow, but Cyborg saw it coming and caught his wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Far away from here. I thought all those stories were just that. Stories. I’d like to be able to sleep tonight without worrying I’ll wake up to find a bloody kid hanging from my ceiling.”

At the series of exclamations that came from that, Flash and Zatanna explained that Batman didn’t work alone and actually had a large group of spirits or demons that followed him. When Flash was asked how he knew about the Colony, he admitted that he and Tigress lived in the area and both she and their civilian partner had grown up in Gotham. He said their partner had been telling him tons of stories about the Colony since he was a kid, but he’d always assumed they were just urban legends.

The Young Justice members all shared a look, wondering why Tim had never said anything. Wonder Girl glanced at Supergirl, who shook her head. Stephanie and Bette hadn’t said anything either.

Arsenal spoke up, saying Artemis of Bana-Mighdall had never mentioned seeing any demons in Gotham when she stayed there to visit friends and Power Girl added that Hawk and Dove had a friend in Gotham and they’d never mentioned trouble there.

The rest of the members considered this until Aquaman asked Flash for more information. Reluctantly, he started talking. He told them about each of them in turn, putting off a certain bird until the very end and then skipping over giving his name when he did reach him. He tried to move the conversation on from there, but Troia cut him off to ask if the last spirit had a name.

Despite himself, Flash glanced at the former Superboy before he answered yes. Nightwing noticed and crossed his arms with a frown as he asked what the spirit’s name was.

Flash’s voice was barely a whisper when he answered, but that was plenty loud enough for the Kryptonians in the room. Superman went stiff, Power Girl glanced at Nightwing, Supergirl gasped, and Nightwing slammed a fist into the table just light enough not to dent it as he demanded Flash repeat himself. When he did, he did it loud enough for everyone to hear so sounds of confusion and shock filled the room.

“Now you know how we felt when Kon-El here decided to go by that name! I’d been hearing stories about the guy for years by that point!”

Nightwing began to explain that the name came from a Kryptonian myth, before cutting off and glancing at Superman and Power Girl. The latter reluctantly finished it by saying that the original Nightwing was a spirit sent by the sun god Rao to destroy the evils that hid in the darkness. He was a creature of shadows, which left him separate from the gods until he and a fire spirit named Flamebird met and fell in love.

A silence fell over the group until Hex pointed out the obvious. “So a shadow creature looking to wipe out evil has the same name as a shadow creature looking to wipe out evil? Are we entirely sure we’re talking about two different monsters?”

The group fell into an argument. The Kryptonians denied that their myth could be the violent spirit in Gotham (aside from Supergirl, who started panicking about Batman corrupting the original Nightwing) while everyone else was split between agreeing with the Kryptonians or arguing against them.

Flash considered sneaking out, but hadn’t made up his mind before Wonder Woman decided they needed more information and her eyes landed on him. Despite his arguments against it, he was assigned to get information about the myth. Arsenal and Power Girl were also asked to speak to their Gotham contacts, but everyone knew Artemis of Bana-Mighdall didn’t like Wonder Woman while Hawk and Dove were wary of the Justice League so they weren’t expecting much on that front. Flash sent a quick look Young Justice’s way, well aware all of them were friends with his partner’s little brother. None of them met his eye and they all kept quiet.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his nephew by the back of his suit and the two left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TFW I realize since no one realizes the Colony exists, no one realizes Nightwing's already technically taken so Kon can go the Chris route and call himself Nightwing :) Dick was very amused when he found out.

Vampires’ animal forms:

Carrie: Eurasian lynx

Damian: Azure-winged magpie

[vikingpoteto]

the curse of cousin Chad

Read on AO3

______________________

Relationships:  GEN. Tim Drake & Jason Todd & Stephanie Brown

Summary: Tim Drake's only wish is for people to stop talking about Red Robin on the news (and a monkey's paw finger curls somewhere as Chad Wayne shows up in their lives.)

________________________

Red Robin had been better, but he had been worse too.

After Batgirl helps him sit down, he stops for a second and decides that he probably doesn’t have any broken bones, just more than a few bruises forming. Batgirl all but falls by his side, exhausted, and judging by the groan she lets out she must be just as sore. Still, she extends her fist for a bump and he grins as he obliges.

“Well, no one got shot or stabbed, so that’s a win on my book,” Red Robin says.

“That and we put away a dangerous gang that had been terrorizing the locals for months,” she reminds him.

“Yeah, that too.”

He glances around and decides the building they chose is tall enough that they can relax for a bit. He pulls down his cowl. Tim lets out a long relieved sigh when the cold night air touches his face. Batgirl follows his cue, even if she struggles with her hair for a bit to do so. The two of them let their legs dangle from the edge of the rooftop, unbothered by the height, their gazes on the sky.

Heavy footsteps approach the young vigilantes from behind, but neither Tim nor Steph worries, because they’re familiar with the sound. As expected, a third vigilante soon enough takes the spot by Steph’s other side, his helmet already under his arm and his face mask free.

“You two look really beaten considering you weren’t fighting alone tonight,” Jason says.

Steph flips him off.

Tim rolls his eyes. “There were a lot of weaklings, okay? Sometimes that’s more annoying than one strong guy.”

“If you say so.”

“How about your night?” Steph asks casually.

“Kicked some ass, shot the kneecaps of the most stubborn ones. All in a night’s work.”

They nod and resume watching the sky for a brief peaceful moment. So high above they can barely hear the sounds of sirens and late night traffic on the streets.

Then Steph sits up so fast she almost slips down the edge. Tim and Jason grab her shoulders by reflex and pull her back at the same time.

Ignoring the fact that she almost died, Steph shouts: “What time is it?”

“Hm... about 2am?” Tim checks his wrist pad. “Yeah, 2:35.”

“Oh my God!” She groans, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “We missed the countdown by, like, a lot! How did we not hear the fireworks?”

“Gunshots?” Jason suggests.

“Fireworks and gunshots don’t sound the same, we all know the difference.”

Tim rolls his eyes, because this is so them. Of course they’d miss the start of the new year because they were busy fighting crime. Steph and Tim were even planning on going to WE’s New Year’s party together after what was supposed to be a super quick patrol, just to stop a few muggers, really . Tim is glad they did, even if Lucius is going to scold him on Monday. He hates those parties.

“Well, I have a little something here to celebrate,” Jason says with a crooked grin.

He turns his helmet upside down, revealing a bottle of booze. Of course the dramatic bitch had it hidden, just waiting for the right moment to reveal it. Steph whoops excitedly.

“Jason, you’re my hero! I mean… B is gonna kill us if he finds we were drinking in uniform, but it’s not like he’ll find out, right?”

Jason hands the bottle to Tim first, his smile positively wicked. Having been given this sort of gift from Jason before, Tim rolls his eyes and takes a generous chug without hesitation. His eyes tear up a bit at the taste when he passes the bottle to Steph.

She happily drinks straight from the bottle like Tim had… Then she freezes.

"Jason?"

“Yeah, Steph?”

“What the heck is this?”

“Spinach and lettuce juice. Timmy needs those antibodies."

"Jason, why are you like this?

"You didn’t think I was giving you guys alcohol, did you? You two are minors.”

Tim grins. He can tell Steph is trying to decide whether to throw the bottle overboard or at Jason’s head.

Before she decides, he turns his gaze back to the sky and asks: “You guys made any New Year’s wishes?”

“Resolutions,” Steph corrects. “Wishes are for birthdays.”

Jason makes a high-pitched voice, “wow, look at me, I’m Stephanie Brown, my mom loves me so much she celebrated my birthday!”

Tim laughs. “Geez, I’ll drink to that.”

There are no words to describe the horror in Steph’s face when he takes back the bottle and drinks a little more of the green juice.

He simply shrugs. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Deciding it’s not worth the trouble, Steph shakes her head and says, “I’m keeping it simple this year. My only resolution is to pass all my classes for once in my life. What about you, Jay?”

“I don’t do that corny shit.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I know you guys like corny shit.”

“We’ve seen you cry over Jane Austen, your edgelord bullcrap doesn’t work on us,” Steph says. When Jason tries to protest that his eyes were just tearing up from yawning, she turns to Tim: “What about you? Any New Year wishes?”

“Just one, too,” Tim says. “I wanna make sure every non-criminal forgets Red Robin ever existed.”

Jason and Steph snort.

“I’m serious. No more shipping me with my family, no more stalkers. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure no reporter writes the words ‘Red Robin’ ever again.”

“Good luck with that, Timbers.”

Tim drinks his lettuce juice in silence. He hands the bottle back to Jason. Steph pretends to gag when he also takes a long sip. Despite their incredulity, Tim is feeling positive about his goal. He feels like after the Red Twins craze died down, people lost interest in him. He thinks he can pull it off.

If only he knew.

Tim almost never visits the manor anymore. He’s been to the Batcave once or twice on the past few months, but the house itself… he doesn’t even remember the last time. He decides to stop by on a rare free afternoon, hoping Duke and Cass will be around. If not, seeing Alfred outside the cave and having a cup of tea with him was more than enough.

He lets himself in, because he knows it makes Alfred begrudgingly happy when any of the kids acts as though they still live there rather than politely ringing the bell. It also makes Damian mad, which is always a plus.

Hearing voices from the living room, Tim heads straight there, excited that there’s someone home. His smile freezes on his face. Whatever he was expecting to see, it wasn’t… that.

Bruce is sitting near the fireplace pinching the bridge of his nose as he does when his children are fighting among themselves. On the opposite couch is none other than Jason being embraced by a complete stranger that is currently sobbing into his shoulder.

Jason’s gaze meet Tim’s in what is clearly a plea for help. All Tim can do is mouth who the hell is that? to which Jason mouths back I have no fucking idea.

“Would you look at that, Tim’s here,” Bruce says. Tim has the feeling he’s trying to save Jason.

The sniffling stranger pulls back and turns around. “Oh god. You’re a man now, Timmy! Last time I saw you, you were just a tiny kid!”

To Tim’s complete horror, the man stands and comes hug him tightly.

“Uh… ”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” the man gives a watery chuckle “of course you don’t remember me. You were a basically a toddler and I was also a kid when I last saw you. I’m Chad, your father’s cousin.”

“Oh. You’re…”

“I mean, Bruce's cousin. I knew Jack, though. He was good people.”

“Bruce’s cousin. Hm. So your name is Chad Wayne, huh?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing,” Tim pretends not to see Jason hide a snicker into his hand. “Sounds… cool.”

“Chad is visiting Gotham for a couple of weeks,” Bruce tells him. “He just graduated from college in Central City and decided it was a good idea to visit old relatives. It was such a great surprise when he arrived.”

“Right,” Chad wipes the tears from his face, “and I happened to run right into Jason here and oof. Saying I was surprised doesn’t cover it.”

His jovial laughter is so genuine that it’s almost unsettling.

“Oh. You… You know Jason."

“Yeah, man. My family was in a year long trip to Africa, so we didn’t hear about his death until a long time had passed. My parents were crushed that they couldn’t be there for Brucie then. Bruce was telling me about how you guys got him back. Nothing short of a miracle, huh?”

“A miracle,” Jason echoes.

Chad scratches his own nape, finally looking appropriately embarrassed. “Sorry I got so emotional, Jason. I almost didn’t recognize you, you got so jacked , man. I guess I have a good memory for faces.”

He speaks so fast. Steph always complains that Tim speaks too fast whenever he is in the zone and caffeinated, but that was nothing compared to Chad’s rambling.

“Oh well. C'mere, Tim, sit with us, let me get to know you guys. Even if I’m your father’s cousin, I guess I’m closer in age to you two ahaha...”

Tim is known for being a quick thinker, but something about Chad’s khaki shorts and how out of place they look in Gotham stuns him into inaction. He lets Chad drag him to the couch and doesn’t say anything else on pure fear that the guy is about to do it to ‘em.

“Actually,” Jason stands, “Tim is here to pick me up. We have this, hm, doctor’s appointment. To check my… eyes. Yeah, my eyes. Tim’s gonna drive me.”

“Oh, that’s alright, we can talk more when you two come back.”

“Back?” Tim parrots.

“Actually, Chad, Jason and Tim don’t live in the manor,” Bruce says. “They share an apartment around downtown.”

For the first time, Chad drops his too-blessed-to-be-stressed smile and frowns. “What? Why? I thought you guys just got Jason back. Shouldn’t he stay with you, Bruce?”

“Actually, that’s a funny story,” Jason says, taking Tim by the arm. “I’m sure Bruce will love to tell you all about it. I can’t be late for my appointment, isn’t that right, lil' bro?”

“Uh… Yeah. Being dead made his insurance skyrocket and the cancelation fees are a nightmare.”

“Hm-hum, all that. See you around and stuff.” Jason is holding Tim’s arm with such force that it’ll bruise for sure. They’re still on the way to the door when he hisses: “ Get me out of here right now.”

“But I didn’t even see Alfred,” he whispers back.

“ Now, Timothy ! ”

They don’t stop powerwalking until they’re in the car. Jason doesn’t bother going back for his bike and Tim makes a mental note to ask Cass to bring it back to their place later.

For a second, they just breathe Gotham’s polluted air to remind themselves they’re still home and not in a Disney sitcom.

That’s when Jason starts ranting. Apparently he was on the way to the kitchen to get just a bowl of cereal when he walked into Alfred getting the door open for cousin Chad. Alfred had said "Master Jason, I didn’t know you were here" and cousin Chad recognized him and started losing it. Bruce didn’t let Jason kill him, unfortunately, but managed to pull a story out of his ass about Jason coming back from the dead after someone from the Justice League messed up the timeline or something like that. The official story is that they found Jason just a couple of weeks ago and are still working out the kinks of having a family member return from the grave. Except Jason’s speech was a lot more convoluted and involved a lot of curse words and shakespearean insults.

“...and I didn’t even get my freaking cereal!” he finishes, just as Tim parks in front of their home.

“Well. That was an afternoon you just had,” Tim says. Jason huffs and gruffs on the way to the elevator. Tim waits until the doors close to say: “Bruce didn’t pull that story out of his ass, by the way.”

Jason frowns. “What?”

“Your cover story,” Tim clarifies. “He had it for years. I know everything about it if you want the details. He asked me for feedback when he was figuring how to make it believable and whatnot.”

“What? When? Why?”

“As soon as we found out you were alive. He wanted to be ready in case you decided to officially join the family again. It took a few days of work, but the plan exists and is ready to go whenever.”

Jason doesn’t say anything. Tim had expected that, so he allows him to mull over the newfound knowledge. He also expects Jason to head straight for the kitchen, which he does, and Tim follows his brother closely, not commenting on the tension of his shoulders or the way his jaw is set tight enough to crack a few teeth.

When his brother just stands near the sink apparently unsure of what to do with himself, Tim gets milk from the fridge and starts preparing a bowl of cereal.

“What were you doing there, anyway?”

“I went to see Alfred,” Jason mumbles. “But he was busy, so I was… I was talking to Bruce for a bit.”

“Oh?”

Jason grabs the bowl Tim is offering him. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up.” And Jason stomps his way to his room, slamming the door after him.

When Steph shows up after class, Tim tells her not to bother him.

WAYNE FAMILY

Tim: @Bruce so wats his deal

Bruce: Dear Tim, what do you mean by that? sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Tim: chad

Tim: whats his night persona

Tim: his masked name

Bruce: Tim, Chad is not a vigilante. sincerely, Bruce Wayne

Dick: shoot

Dick: he’s a villain???

Bruce: Dear Dick, Chad is not a villain either. He’s just a civillian. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Duke: dont he want to avenge his parents?

Bruce: Dear Duke, His parents are alive and well. They’re international activists currently on a mission to feed the poor somewhere in South America. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Damian: That means he’s must be a sleeper agent of sorts. I’ll collect some of his DNA for examination. Drake, I trust you’ll do a thorough check on his background, official and otherwise.

Tim: on it

Bruce: Damian, if you get your second-cousin’s DNA to run tests, your weekend at the Kent farm is permanently cancelled.

Jason: so b you admit you text like it’s a business email just to fuck with us, huh?

Bruce: Dear Jason, Mind your language in front of your little brothers. Sometimes I’ll sacrifice the format for the sake of speed. Regardless, this is the ideal way of writing a text message. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce: @everyone Chad will be staying with us for a few weeks. He’s just a regular civilian with no tragic backstory, no metapowers and no secret identity. I expect all of you to behave like Alfred taught you and hide your secret identities like I trained you to. No one will investigate him or do anything to compromise our identities. Is that clear? Awaiting confirmation, Bruce Wayne

Cass: weird

Bruce: Dearest Cass, It’s not weird. Civilians exist. Sincerely, Bruce Wayne

Tim: not in our family they dnt!!!

Tim: cmon b you cant tell me s not suspicious!!!!!

Bruce: It is not.

Alfred: Master Bruce already checked his DNA for metagenes and ran a thorough background check with the help of miss Barbara. Unfortunately, Master Chad is clear.

Cass: weeeeeiiiiird

Tim decides to avoid Wayne manor for the foreseeable future. Instead, he buys Alfred’s favorite brand of tea and wonders if he can convince the butler to come over to stay with them for an afternoon or perhaps the whole weekend. Tim is more than willing to share the couch with Steph and let Alfred have his bed. He puts the tea away with a passive aggressive note letting Jason and Steph know that tea is to be saved for Alfred.

Jason is in the living room cleaning one of his guns while Steph does her homework on the carpet by his feet, meaning is just an afternoon like any other for them.

Tim has to remind himself of her resolution before he gives in the temptation of asking her to go patrolling with him. The thing is that his resolution is a lot easier to pursue when Batgirl is around, because she can deal with the civilians after the fact while Red Robin vanishes as soon as the criminals are in cuffs.

Alas. Working alone can be fun, too, he tells himself.

Before he heads out to get his suit, however, the buzzer sounds. He hears Steph cheering and saying something about pizza.

Then a voice that makes Tim freeze in horror.

“Oh, hey. I must have the wrong apartment. Is this Tim and Jason Wayne’s place?”

“Uhhhh…”

He runs so fast Bart would be proud, hoping he can sign at Steph to send him away before he sees them, but it’s too late. Tim rushes only to find out that, in all the glory of his khaki shorts and boat shoes, Chad Wayne is already inside his apartment.

Tim is very aware that Jason is frozen on the couch right behind him, still holding a gun.

“Chad! What a surprise!”

“Hey, Timbo!” Chad grins, looking genuinely happy to see him. “Damian told me you wouldn’t be working tonight and then he gave me your address!”

Why, god? Why hadn’t Tim killed Damian when he had the chance?

“And who is this lovely young woman?” He asks. “If she isn’t spoken for, I might want to steal her for me.”

“I’m his ex, actually, and I sort of live here.” Steph offers her hand. “I speak for myself.”

Instead of shaking her hand, Chad brings her fingers to his lips and gives them an excuse of a kiss. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma damme .”

Steph’s smile is too wide to be natural and her eyes look like they’re about to jump out of the sockets. Like the rest of the family, she seems to struggle to believe this guy is real. Tim can’t save her, he just wishes Jason would put away his things while cousin Chad is busy with Steph.

“So, Chad, it’s so nice to see you, but uhhh... What are you doing here?”

“Well, since you guys never go over I had to come see you! And trust me, I get it , when I let my folks’ place to go to college, I wanted to spend even the breaks at my frat house. Anyway, I thought I’d come here, we can order some take out and…”

His eyes finally find Jason and he freezes. “...is that a gun?”

Crap, poop, turd, crap,  crapcrapcrapcrap-

“Uhhh… yeah?”

In the same way when he heard that Jason doesn’t live with Bruce, Chad’s positive vibes vanish and he looks distraught.

“Guys… does Bruce know about that?”

Before anyone can stop him, Chad walks in like he owns the place and takes the seat by Jason’s side. Tim and Steph exchange a panicked look, both praying that the gun isn’t easy to assemble or at least that Jason doesn’t have any ammo within arms reach. The two hurry to join them, Steph dropping on the couch and casually leaning against Jason in a position that allows her to hold his arm should he decide to throw Chad out. Tim takes the arm of the couch closer to Chad, ready to pick him up and throw him away himself if he says something stupid.

“We keep it here for safety,” Jason says simply.

“Okay. Oof.” Chad reaches for Jason’s shoulder. “Look, I get it. Gotham is dangerous. But having a gun at home is more of a hazard than anything else, Jace. Can I call you Jace?”

“No.”

“Look, I’m an only son, but if I had a little brother like Tim, I’d want to show him a good example, you know? And guns are not the solution. Do you genuinely think you could shoot someone? I don’t think so. I served the army and there we learn that shooting a person is harder than you can imagine."

Tim can see Steph discreetly pinching Jason’s thigh to keep him in check. Jason looks like he’s asking himself if he’s in the Twilight zone.

There is a beat of silence and Jason opens his mouth. Tim braces himself. Before disaster hits, Steph blurts:

“Actually, that’s why Jason’s here.”

Fortunately, Chad doesn’t notice Jason’s and Tim’s perplexed faces because he’s focused on Steph again.

“Of course Bruce hates guns with his parents and all that,” she frowns sympathetically. “But… Chad, Jason died. Of course he’s getting therapy, but he still needs something to feel safe at least at home. Isn’t that right, Jay?”

She gently rubs his arm. Jason knows Steph enough to recognize the play along or you’re dead in her falsely upset expression.

“Uh… Right. That. I moved in with Tim because, uh, I know Bruce is weird with guns." Another pinch to his thigh. Clearly in a begrudging voice, he adds: "And I super agree with him. I mean, what if Damian found it?”

“God, no,” Tim deadpans. “I don’t want to even imagine Damian with a gun.”

“But Tim and he knows he's not to mess with it,” Jason adds.

“Bruce told me you’re here you and him are a bit at odds, but he didn’t tell me you fought over you having a gun.”

“Bruce doesn’t know and you can’t tell him,” Tim cuts in. Batman is definitely going to forget his no-killing rule if he finds out they let cousin Chad see Red Hood’s gun. “Please, Chad. I promise you we’re careful. We’re just trying to make the best out of a difficult situation.”

Tim hopes the mention that this is a touchy subject will deter Chad. He forgets to take in consideration that Chad thinks they’re his family despite him knowing literally nothing about them. He is under the very wrong impression that he's allowed to talk to them about personal shit. Which is great. This is just great.

“If it makes you feel better, this is temporary,” Jason says. “I talked to my, uh, my therapist about it and he cleared me to have the gun. When I start, you know, getting over the death trauma, I’ll get rid of it.”

“Right,” Steph nods eagerly. “We’re planning on throwing a party when we reach that point and everything.”

The three of them wait with baited breath as Chad considers their excuses, his expression somber. Then Chad opens his arms and pulls Tim and Jason into a triple hug.

“I get it,” he says in a hoarse voice he probably finds cool. “You do what you have to do to cope, man. Bruce told me you’re brave and I can see that’s true. And you, ” he squeezes Tim, “I heard from Dickie that you’re a little prodigy, but I’m so proud of you for being there for your brother!”

God, he has so many feelings. Tim promises himself he’ll never complain about Dick being clingy again. Dick has a Batman level of emotional constipation if compared to this guy.

“Right,” Jason pulls himself free from the hug. “I’m gonna put this away, alright?”

He gathers his cleaning supplies and the spare parts spread across the coffee table and takes it to his room. His expression says he's still trying to figure out what that was.

“But, Timbo…”

“Just Tim is fine.”

“I thought you didn’t know Jason before his death? Bruce adopted you kind of recently, didn’t he?”

“Uhhh… I don’t know what to tell you. Jason and I hit it off and became friends fast,” Tim says. “I mean, at first he hated me enough to want to slit my throat…”

“Wow, alright,” Jason interrupts as he returns, a pout on his lips. “I see we’re very comfortable joking about my early… grumpiness. It’s not something I feel guilt or still have nightmares about at all”

Tim almost snorts at that. “Like I was saying, we got better.”

Chad nods thoughtfully and leans back to be more comfortable, nothing about his body language suggesting he might be getting ready to leave.

“So!” Steph claps her hands together. “Thank you for understanding, Chad. Now maybe let's talk about something lighter, shall we?”

And that’s what they do, with some sttrugle. At first, Chad seems too upset to talk about anything and Steph has to use all of her charm to get him to forget about the fantastic start of his visit. Jason helps by making sarcastic remarks that almost sound genuine and Tim… Tim can’t do much.

He texts Cass and she agrees to take his patrol duty for the night. Tim considered making up an emergency at WE and going out anyway, but in the end he decided that was unfair to the others.

He also sends a message chewing on Damian for sending Chad his way without a warning. No one ever visits Tim’s apartment other than his family and his hero friends, so they could have been in full uniform in the middle of the living room. Damian responds with a dismissive text filled with words that Tim doesn’t know. Tim threatens to break all of his crayons and puts his phone away

By this point, Chad is a bit more like himself again and Tim almost wishes he stayed distressed, because the rest of the night is painfully weird. To avoid more awkward conversation, Jason puts on a random horror movie for them. Chad comments on how impressive it is that none of them seems to mind the gore. He squeals and groans and gives Steph a horrified look when she simply keeps eating her pepperoni pizza as though nothing of note is happening on the screen.

The thing is that the movie’s gore is decidedly inaccurate to the point that they barely recognize it for what it's supposed to be. Besides it’s nothing worse than some wounds they’d either suffered or seen as vigilantes.

Maybe it’s because Tim didn’t get the adrenaline he expected from patrol, but he ends up falling asleep on Jason’s shoulder during the climax of the second movie.

He wakes up alone on the couch with a blanket half-thrown over his legs. It's still the middle of the night and he has half a mind to go to his room before he hears muffled voices from the kitchen. Rubbing his eyes, he follows the sound without thinking much.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Steph greets him.

She and Jason apparently are building a castle of Uno cards in the middle of the kitchen table.

Tim joins them. “It’s 3am.”

“Witching hour,” Jason mumbles.

Steph gestures at the castle and offers Tim a card. He takes it.

“It was a dirty trick to fall asleep like that,” she tells him. “You missed the selfie party to celebrate the first time he visited Jace and Timbo.”

Tim groans. “He stayed long?”

“Too long.” Jason adds another pair of cards to the castle. “I think I have a headache and the Lazarus pit is supposed to make you immune to headaches.”

“That's what I was telling Jason before you got here, Tim. We’re socially capable, right?”

“Hmmm… Right, I guess.”

“How come we couldn’t get rid of him? Why were we so lost while we were, like, just hanging out with him? Is everyone outside of Gotham like that?”

Part of Tim is relieved that Steph hates Chad too. He thought he and Jason had finally caught Batman’s moodiness, but Steph is one of the most cheerful people he knows and her dry sense of humor and quick quips are a lot more bearable than cousin Chad’s peppy attitude.

The other part of him…

“I think it’s less about him not being from Gotham and more about him being a civilian,” Jason says.

The castle falls. None of them reacts.

“That can’t be right,” Steph says. “We have civilian friends and they’re not like that.”

“Do we?”

“Yeah! Jason-- Hm. Tim has Tam… Oh, forget it, she’s not talking to him again. I have Francisco and- I just remembered he’s the son of a gangster.” Steph pauses. “Huh. Do we seriously not know any civilians?”

They don’t. Not on a friendly level, at least.

Tim had considered that before, but he didn't want to think about it. It was weird he was so distant from a normal life that he felt unsettled by it. Not bad. Just weird. If he hadn’t found out Batman’s and Robin’s identities, would he grow up to be a Chad? Finishing high school, living in a frat house in college, and all that? Would he still be a Drake, neighbor to the Waynes?

He loves all of his siblings and Bruce and Alfred and he doesn’t want to consider a life without them.

However.

In a world without Batman. Bruce would still be a good man. He still wouldn’t hesitate in adopting an orphaned circus boy. He would probably also adopt the little shit that tried to steal his not-batmobile tires. If by a miracle he also adopted the boy next door that tragically lost his parents and a girl from a very broken family and a young boy whose parents couldn’t be there for him anymore. His gremlin of a biological son would have grown up beloved and incapable of harming anyone, let alone assassinating a person.

He remembers the plan to bring Jason back to the world of the living and how easy it had been for him and Bruce to put it together and make it seem believable, because in their world it was believable and it could have been the truth.

If Jason Wayne, a regular boy, son of a regular man, had been killed in a freak criminal act and brought back to life thanks to superhero shenanigans, all of them would have been there for him. Jason wouldn’t resent his father for not killing his murderers, because that wasn’t a possibility, and they’d find a way to get him to overcome the effects of the trauma. Bruce certainly wouldn’t spare effort or money to get his son back to full health.

If Stephanie’s father hadn’t been a super criminal, Tim’s first girlfriend wouldn’t hit him in the face with a brick on their first meeting. She would have been a normal girl with a normal life and she could even run into him at school. There is no doubt in his mind that he would have found and made Steph his friend no matter the universe, except… would he?

In that reality, he didn’t know what gore looked like. He would get too upset to function for half an hour at the mere sight of a gun. He’d visit relatives unannounced and the worst thing that could happen was to find them heading out as he arrives. He draws the line at the khakis and boat shoes, because he doesn’t think he’d wear those in any universe, but still.

That would not be Timothy Drake-Wayne. Tim had seen his own internal organs before. Tim’s not only unfazed by fire guns but also built some for his older brother. Tim is fully aware that visiting any of his siblings might mean walking into a ninja fight at worst and finding them pretending to drive the batmobile at best.

Steph and Jason don’t say anything for a while and Tim could easily blame it on the fact that it’s almost 4am and they have yet to sleep, but he knows it’s because they’re reaching the same conclusion he did: they’re not normal people. They always knew that, but knowing something and seeing evidence are two different things.

And again… it’s not bad. It’s not that Tim wouldn’t change anything about the past, it’s just that he doesn’t regret the life he lead up until this point.

It’s still weird. Too weird.

BABS

Babs: The red dynamic duo ship is back with a vengeance, huh?

Babs sent you a link.

Tim had never had a panic attack. Considering the life he leads, that’s a pretty surprising thing. However, that text from a woman he considers part of his family kicks his fight-or-flight instinct like nothing in the world could. He clicks on it. He reads the article.

He screams into a pillow for about ten minutes.

Jason and Steph find him lying face down on the floor trying to get his phone’s AI to buy him a ticket to Smallville. He's sure Conner will take him in. He’ll work at the farm. He’ll stop being Red Robin. He doesn’t care.

It’s an article from a teen magazine.

TIM WAYNE AND MYSTERY MAN?

Ah, the Wayne Family. Our favorite and most iconic family of Gotham. Timothy Drake-Wayne (18), or Tim, how he prefers to be called, has been under our radar for quite a while and not just because of his cute face. The young CEO of Wayne Enterprises and heir to Drake Industries is smart, rich and incredibly charming if the rumors are true. That being said, the question we’re all asking is: how is this boy still single?

Little to nothing is known about Tim Wayne’s love life and we were all crazy to know if he is in the market for a girlfriend.

Well, ladies, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Tim Wayne might have a special someone. Nothing is confirmed yet, but Chad Wayne (26), Tim’s adoptive father’s cousin, shared a rather interesting picture on his snapchat.

[IMAGE]

Once we got over how freaking hot Chad is looking, we noticed something in the background. Right behind Chad, we can barely see someone that looks exactly like Tim Wayne fast asleep on the shoulder of a real heartthrob. Our suspicions were confirmed by Chad’s caption that said “visiting the little cousins”!

It’s a well-known fact that Tim Wayne is openly bisexual, so could this be his boyfriend? Or are they just dudes being bros, unbothered by toxic masculinity? Only time will tell.

THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert sent a screenshot.

spoiler alert: lmao

WonderWing: … ok first I thought it was funny but now I’m concerned

WonderWing: do I need to talk to them?

WonderWing: do I need to talk our dad???

In the hood: WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO US?

In the hood: WHY IS ANYONE SEEN NEAR THIS DAMN KID AUTOMATICALLY HIS SIGNIFICANT OTHER??

send me a Signal: scratch that what is this openly bisexual business?

send me a Signal: I mean we know hes bi but hes not that vocal bout it?

spoiler alert: lmao tell em dick

WonderWing: lololol when he was like 12 there were rumors that Jack Drake’s son was gay right?

WonderWing: high society trashy gossip

WonderWing: around the same time his mom thought it was a good idea to let him be interviewed for this random magazine

WonderWing: they mentioned the rumors prolly because they wanted him to like say something motivational about bullying or wtv

send me a Signal: i think i know where this is going

send me a Signal: what did he say?

spoiler alert: i like my men how i like my women

send me a Signal: of course he did

spoiler alert: yeah and he wasnt out to his parnts yet so that part is less fun

send me a Signal: oof

In the hood: are you kidding me? Tim came out to the whole world because he couldn’t stop himself from making a dumb bi joke? Why can’t he stay in the closet like the rest of us?

Boss A$$ Bat: Bi rights

WonderWing: steph did you change cass nickname again

spoiler alert: ye

Boss A$$ Bat: I like it (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

send me a Signal: wait tims too quiet where is he

in the Hood: Steph took away his phone because he kept trying to book a flight to Smallville to become a farmer.

send me a Signal: of course. why wouldnt he.

Chad apologizes profusely for not noticing Tim and Jason were on that shot, but thankfully he does it over the phone so Tim can hang up halfway through his heartfelt apology.

The kids that still live in the manor aren't so lucky.

Tim gets a stream of facetimes from Duke, Cass and even Damian. Apparently Chad won't stop asking Cass to speak up, because she can, why bother with this weird sign stuff? (Cass stops Duke from hitting him.) He insists on asking Damian to play football with him until Damian knocked him out with a ball to the face. Bruce forced Damian to pretend he dislocated his shoulder on the stunt to prevent further invitations. Even though Duke is, by all means, perfect, Chad keeps stalking him and asking about his opinions on his siblings and if he thinks Bruce is doing the best job on raising them. The answers never satisfy him and he keeps asking as though he thinks the boy will change his mind if caught by surprise. Duke starts using his powers to jump out of the window whenever Chad is about to walk into the room until he lands on Alfred's roses. The fact that the butler isn't mad, just disappointed causes Duke to stop his daring escapes.

Bruce, despite his cool facade, isn't much better. He now has to keep his public persona at home too and, when it isn't driving him insane, he is being annoyed by his children exchanging weird looks and holding back giggles while he plays the himbo part.

Long story short, Chad is making a few days feel like torturing years.

The breaking point is the day Tim walks into his living room only to find Steph and Damian sitting on the couch facing each other while she dutifully paints his nails black.

“What is happening?” Tim asks. “Did I fall into a parallel Earth?”

“Tt, do not concern yourself with us, Drake. I’m here for Brown, not for you.”

Steph smirks at him.

“What the- Okay, first of all this apartment is mine and Jason’s. Steph doesn’t live here. Sometimes. Second… Since when do you get along with Steph?”

“I tolerate her.”

“What the hell? That’s like I love you in Gremlin language! Since when did you get Damian?”

Her smirk widens and Tim more or less expects her to do a little victory dance. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. I’m just irresistible.”

“Hm.” Tim turns to Damian. “Chad drove you out of the house and Bruce didn’t let you go to Dick's place in Bludhaven, right?”

“Father says I cannot miss school.”

“Great. If you’re going to become our second unofficial roommate, please stay away from Jason’s pots. He says he has a system and he's a nightmare when we mess with them.”

“I would never spend more time than necessary in your disgusting nest.”

“You’re literally on my couch! Letting my best friend paint your nails! You freaking pest!”

And Damian isn’t the only one.

Cass used to come over regularly, but the frequency of her visits increases dramatically now that Chad is staying at the manor. She isn’t bad to be around, though, as she mostly keeps training in the basement or napping on the couch that Steph is more than happy to share with her. When Tim asks why she doesn’t simply stay in the Batcave, Cass tells him Bruce is keeping their time at the cave to a minimum because Chad noticed sometimes they vanish even if all cars were in the garage.

Chad is also painfully public. He’s constantly tweeting and updating his Instagram and making sure everyone and their mother knows what he’s doing, who’s with him and where they are. That makes it difficult to kick him out without drawing attention. Gotham's elite is a nest of gossip and intrigue and people ought to ask uncomfortable questions if a rich guy sends a rich relative away for seemingly no reason. Bruce might be the most private person in the world, but Brucie Wayne is supposed to be a fun-loving man.

Cass convinces Tim not to make much fun of Bruce, because apparently, after Chad posted a picture of him and Bruce trying to bake and Brucie is wearing an apron that says “Kiss the Bat!”, Superman himself called him only to laugh for ten minutes. Tim Supposes that’s punishment enough.

When Duke is the one seeking shelter, it isn’t as fun. As much as Tim likes the guy, he’s a chronic worrier in a completely different way of Tim. He wants to make sure they're all living healthy lives and eating properly and, for some reason, whether Steph and Jason are bullying Tim. He question things such as the fact that Steph is ruining her back on the couch, Tim’s habit of leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight and the lack of the right brands of food, whatever that means. Tim gets tired of it pretty fast, but he also finds that being unnecessarilly dark is a efficient way to get Duke to shut up.

“So Steph basically moved in, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you guys share the rent or…?”

“I own the building, Duke.”

“Right. So she doesn’t pay any bills.”

“She kills bugs for us sometimes. She buys candy, too.”

"Does Jason pay bills?"

"He does. We split it evenly between the two of us."

"Huh. Where does he get any money?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

"Is Bruce okay with that?"

"If Bruce wanted to have a say in my life he shouldn't have died and forced me to get emancipated."

"... Tim, I love you so much, man, but sometimes it's hard to be your brother."

"I know, Duke. I love you too, Duke."

One night, he comes back from patrol and he finds all of his siblings literally camping in the living room. Someone even built a pillow fort by tying a preposterous amount of blankets to the porch door and the TV stand. Too tired to care, Tim turns to his room.

“Good night, Jay. Good night, Steph. Good night, parasites that do not live here.”

“You take back those words on this instant, Drake,” Damian hisses, but fortunately someone (Steph) tucked him too tightly into his sleeping bag, so there’s nothing he can do but wiggle around like an angry worm.

“Why are we parasites?” Duke asks from his air mattress. “I’ve done the dishes. That’s more than what Steph does.”

“Good night, Tim,” Cass says from… somewhere. They know she found a place to sleep. They don’t know where it is.

DAD

Tim: brus pls get rid of him

Dad: I can’t, Tim, it’d be suspicious to kick out a relative for no reason.

Tim: every1 is living at my place bc of him

Tim: even damian

Tim: do u kno how insuferable a man has to be that damian would rather spend time with jason and i

Dad: If everyone being at your place is bothering you so much, why don’t you invite Chad?

Tim: … no. ur not pushing him to me.

Dad: Chad and you are close in age, aren’t you? You could get along if you tried.

Tim: i 19! he 26!

Dad: Jason is 22 and he’s your best friend.

Tim: conner is my best friend

Tim: jason is a partner in crime at best

Dad: If you’re able to think of something to shorten Chad’s visit, I’m all ears. I admit it’s inconvenient to have him here. Otherwise, I think spending time with your siblings will do you some good.

Tim: i hate you

Dad: Alright, Tim.

Tim: … ok that was a lie and im sorry i love u bruss

Dad: I love you too, Tim.

One day, Tim goes to the kitchen for a mug of coffee and finds Barbara comfortably working on her laptop.

“...you don’t even live at the manor.”

“Hm? Oh, I’m not avoiding cousin Chad, Steph just invited me over for waffles.”

Tim just takes his coffee and leaves without saying anything else.

And then shit finally hits the fan.

Because Tim isn’t an idiot like Bruce, he didn’t make his public persona something that would be painful for him to play. As far as Gotham’s society knows, Tim Drake-Wayne is a calm and collected young man, work-driven and not too ill-mannered for a rich boy, which isn’t as different from the real Tim. Real Tim is an overworked ball of anxiety that appears to be a calm and collected young man, so no one is surprised when he doesn’t acknowledge the rumors about him and the mysterious man.

At least not until a son of a bitch with too much free time decides to ruin his brother’s life on twitter.

@earthnotflatffs101 yo don’t this dude with tim drake low key look like jason todd?

And the motherfucker even dared to repost Chad’s selfie and an old picture of a 13 year-old Jason walking alongside Bruce.

Of course the tweet goes viral.

Everyone starts talking about the eerie resemblance between Tim’s buddy and his deceased brother that he supposedly never met. Some find it tasteless that everyone is making a conspiracy theory out of an allegedly dead child, but they are quickly overpowered by the wave of old gossip being revisited. It takes one Sunday afternoon for everyone to start pointing out how weird it is that Tim Drake left the Wayne manor seemingly out of the blue and started living by himself at such a young age and how my sense it’d make for him to share a place with a brother. They notice Chad captioned the picture as "visiting the cousins" plural even if it's public knowledge that Tim Drake- Wayne lives alone. People start demanding to know who is the mystery man lending his shoulder to Tim, tagging the few Waynes with known social media in their posts and even WE corporate account.

It’s the very definition of a shit show, in Tim’s humble opinion.

Red Robin and Batgirl skip their Sunday patrol to brainstorm ideas of damage control. Damian is pacing around the kitchen as the two of them desperately try to apply an algorithm Oracle made to make sure less people will see posts about Jason Todd. There’s not a lot they can do about the fact that #IsJasonToddAlive? is trending. They’re so distressed that Damian forgets to be unpleasant.

“I see no other option,” Damian says at some point. “We should kill that man before he ruins our family any further.”

“How would killing him solve anything?” Tim groans.

“It would make me feel better.”

“No.”

“His death would cause people to forget about Todd.”

“... Go on.”

“Tim, you’re not going to let Dami kill Chad.”

“Why not!”

“Because with our track record he’s going to come back with radioactive powers or some shit.”

“That would be good! He’d finally fit in with the family! As it is now, we’re becoming the freaking Kardashians with a hint conspiracy theory, Steph!”

That’s not the biggest problem, though.

The problem is that Jason doesn’t come home on that night.

Tim and Steph wait for hours after Damian finally calms down in his sleeping bag, but the sun rises and Jason’s room remains empty.

He isn’t freaking out, by any means. Jason is an adult man and he can handle himself. He used to go missing by months at a time before moving in with Tim. He must be busy doing Red Hood stuff. He could let them know he’s okay, just for shits and giggles, but it’s alright. He doesn’t owe them anything.

On the third day after #isJasonToddAlive went viral, Tim and Steph go on patrol even if it’s not their turn. It’s a spur of the moment thing, because they’re home and bored. They agree to split up and just ride around town aimlessly, see what happens and meet at the end of the night to grab waffles at that 24 hour diner Steph likes so much.  One that Jason first took her to after one particular bad night in which she failed to stop a mugger from shooting their victim.

He is just riding his bike, not paying attention to where the wheels take him. It’s just a coincidence that he ends up in Red Hood’s old territory. He hears from some loiterers that Batgirl had been seen roaming around just south from where he is. He keeps his patrol focused on the north side.

A beeping sound informs him that someone is trying to contact him. He accepts it almost right away.

“ Jason ?”

“Nope, it’s me, Timmy,” Dick’s voice answers.

He sighs. And cringes when he realizes he broke the no-real-names-when-in-uniform rule. He’s lucky it isn’t Batman calling him. “Sorry, Nightwing, I thought… Never mind. You need something?”

“No, it’s just that I just got here at the manor. I thought I’d let you know.”

“Oh. Is everything okay? I didn’t even know you were coming back.”

“Well, with this whole Jason is alive thing blowing up I thought I’d come home, help in any way I can. Reporters are driving B insane.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. Also… Do you know Jason’s here?”

There is a beat. Tim presses the breaks with too much force and it’s a miracle that his bike doesn’t simply throw him away with how fast he stops.

“ What? ”

Dick chuckles over the comm. “I figured he didn’t tell you. Do what you want with this information. I’m gonna help Alfred now.”

Tim doesn’t bother saying goodbye, but he’s sure Dick will forgive him. He’s already pressing the buttons on his wrist pad to contact someone else. “Batgirl? Meet me at the cave. Now.”

It takes a lot of effort to stop Steph from storming into the manor through the main entrance in full Batgirl gear. And it’s a good thing Tim managed it, because there is a literal swarm of reporters in front of the gates and Tim wonders if anything happened in the short two hours he was out patrolling.

Once they’re in the cave, they’re careful enough to change into civies. Unlike Tim, Steph doesn’t have clothes stashed there so she simply steals a sweater from Damian’s locker while Tim checks the news.

“Someone saw the mystery man that looks like Jason Todd getting into Bruce Wayne’s car two days ago, ” he tells her when she comes out of the changing room. “How did we miss that?”

“I don’t know, you’re the tech dude,” she groans. “Maybe we hid so much crap the computer started hiding it from us too.”

It’s an explanation as good as any other and the truth is unimportant now. They climb out of the cave with unusual care, checking twice to make sure no one is around to see them emerge from the secret passage. As soon as the cave entrance is hidden, they hear altered voices.

Steph reaches for Tim’s hand when they walk towards the commotion and intertwines their fingers. One could think the gesture was a request for comfort. Tim had been friends with her long enough that it was a silent plea to hold her back if she needs to fight the urge to dropkick someone.

“... can’t simply hide him forever, Brucie!” They hear Chad saying.

Then, in a deep voice that isn’t quite Bruce or quite Batman, but that is still firm and definitive:

“If you can’t agree with me, feel free to leave. But stay aware that if you do anything to expose my son to unnecessary attention, I will not take it lightly.”

They walk into the room to find a Chad that looks somewhere between mildly horrified and extremely angry. Bruce is standing against the fireplace and he is definitely using the shadow he’s casting to appear bigger and more threatening, a trick he usually only uses when he’s wearing a cowl.

“What’s going on?” Tim asks.

“Tim!” Chad turns to him. “Get your father to see reason. I’ve been telling him that this is the perfect time to tell everyone Jason is alive. He wants to… to hide him like he’s a dirty secret.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “What does Jason think?”

“Jason doesn’t know what’s best, Tim, he’s not okay! He has a gun in your house, for crying out loud!”

For the sake of the intensity of the argument, Tim pretends not to notice the batglare he’s getting from his father and focuses on giving Chad a batglare of his own:

“So? You have a problem with my brother?”

Steph is squeezing his hand enough to hurt. He isn’t sure who’s holding who back now.

Chad takes a step back. “You people are insane. Mom was right. Trying to help you guys is useless.”

“ That’s what you’ve been trying to do?” Steph blurts.

Chad shakes his head and storms out of the room… And just like that, Chad’s gone. Gone from their lives, hopefully forever, and if not... Tim knows last year Duke learned a lot about restraining orders.

“I was wondering when you two would come pick him up,” Bruce says. “I hoped it’d take a little longer, it’s nice having him home.”

“Where is he?”

“First… what is this about a gun?”

“First of all, it was Damian’s fault for giving him our address.” Steph shrugs. “Second of all, the gun is the least dangerous thing in Jason’s room and right now I’m more dangerous than any weapon you have, so where is he ?”

“Library.”

They bolt out of the room and straight upstairs. Tim is so caught in the relief of the biggest source of problem being gone that he gets careless. Jason always said Tim is too quick to forgive, even if he doesn’t forget, and he guesses that is true. When he enters the library and he finds himself facing a startled Jason, he’s not angry. Mildly annoyed, for sure. Relieved that his worst paranoiac fears rooted in PTSD are proven to be untrue. Concerned by the fact that Jason looks almost small, younger, maybe because he’s wearing one of Bruce’s shirts or because his expression is so off guard.

But, most importantly, Tim isn’t holding Steph’s hand anymore.

“Jason Todd, you mOTHERFUCKER!”

“No, don’t- ”

But it’s too late. She leaps and dropkicks him and Jason screams in pain and soon the two of them are literally rolling on the floor yelling insults at each other and knocking an entire table sideways. Tim sighs.

“Say uncle! Say uncle right now, you musky bitch!”

“ It’s musty, dumbass!!”

“You’re that, too!”

He sits down in one of the comfy reading chairs and waits for them to get it all out of their system. At some point, Steph is straddling Jason’s back pulling him backwards by the nostrils and he somehow is reaching back to tickle her sides and both of their gazes meet Tim’s unimpressed glower. They stop.

“You two done?”

“She started it!”

“ Bitch- ”

“Enough already,” Tim groans. He waits until both look appropriately ashamed and get off of each other. “Steph is right, though, what the fuck, Jason?”

Jason cringes, but still tries to play it cool, as though nothing unusual happened. “The news had my face, I decided to lay low.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Steph snaps. “It took us three whole days to find you without actively looking. Bruce found you even before.”

“Also lay low hiding from what? Us?”

Grumbling something impossible to understand, he stands and crosses his arms in a clear attempt to look tough. In the absence of his leather jacket and the presence of all of Tim’s annoyance he only looks stupid.

“Look, I freaked out, alright? Me being found out was my fault.”

“How the heck is Chad’s stupid selfie your fault?”

“Because I knew it was a bad idea, okay?” Jason snaps. “I shouldn’t have sat there and made dumb excuses, I should have told him to fuck off the moment he saw my gun. I noticed him taking the stupid pictures, but I didn’t even care that I could be in one of them, I thought it wasn’t worth waking Tim up. All these months playing house and messing around with you guys made me reckless and soft. ”

Steph retreats a step as if he had slapped her.

“Okay, Jason, I’m willing to put up with a lot of angsty bullshit from you, but… Is that really what you think of us? That we’re, we’re what, bringing you down?”

“That’s not what I said!” He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“No,” Tim interrupts. “He's right.” When Steph makes to argue, he raises a hand asking her to listen. “You did grow reckless. That’s what you’re supposed to do, Jason. You’re supposed to relax and have down time and mess around with us. And if shit happens… We have each others' backs. You’d known that if you had come home, because you’d know Steph and I spent the past three days trying to cover for your stupid butt, since we knew you’d want that.”

Jason doesn’t say anything for a minute. When Steph doesn’t either, Tim continues:

“You don’t have to just survive anymore, you know? I thought you knew that when you agreed to live with us. You’re family.”

“You sound like Dick.”

“I mean, Dick was the first person that treated me like family. Maybe that’s why I was so... Hm. Never mind.”

“You’re still upset he fired you, huh?”

“No. I mean, I have been. But I know now it wasn’t personal. He was doing the best he could, even if he didn’t really understand what I needed back then. I know Dick always loved me.”

“Hm. Did you talk to him so he could apologize or did you work all that on your own and forgave him by yourself?”

“Nice try, but right now we’re talking about your issues, not mine.”

Because Steph had been awful quiet for a while - which is something highly unusual - they turn to her in question. They find her wearing her furious expression, the one that puts fear for their lives in criminals hearts, but the effect is ruined by the fact that her big eyes are pooled with tears.

“Oh shit. That’s new. I didn’t know she did that. I thought she destroyed her tear ducts when she was a kid or something. What do I do?”

She simply shakes her head. “I get you, Jay,” she says, her voice a bit wobbly. “Admitting you have something means knowing you can lose it. But is the fear of losing it worth throwing it away altogether?”

Jason pulls her into a hug. She sniffles and rubs her face on his chest, purposefully wiping her runny nose there before she hugs him back.

“I hate you so much, Jason.”

“I hate you too, Steph,” he says softly. “And, from the bottom of my heart, my bad.”

She sniffles again. “Tim, get your gay ass over here. This is a triple hug situation.”

Tim snorts and mumbles something about the fact that Dick can never find out about this or he’ll never forgive them for not including him.

He joins the triple hug nonetheless.

The trio ends up sitting on the floor, their backs resting against the table Steph and Jason knocked over. They learn that Jason had escaped to one of his old hideouts when he heard the news. He was both annoyed and creeped out to find Bruce already there waiting for him and the fucker had the gall to bring Alfred along to make sure Jason wouldn’t say no.

In exchange, they tell him Damian was offering to kill Chad on Jason’s behalf, which makes him bit moved.

“Bruce had already said everything you said, by the way,” he tells Tim. “It’s scary how you’re more like him than his own biological son.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “We said the same thing because we’re right.”

“It almost sounds like you do want me to go out and tell everyone I’m alive.”

“I mean, yeah, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Wait, what?” Steph frowns. “You want people to know Jason’s alive? Then why did you make me spend hours sitting in front of a computer hunting tweets about this glorified zombie?”

“Because if Jason’s secret goes out, it’s for us, not for him,” Tim says. “It’s a pain to be part of a public family. We’d get to go out in public without worrying about being seen and to, I don’t know, post stupid pictures online, mock old people together in Bruce’s galas, but it also means that he would have to avoid reporters and have a double life like the rest of us do.”

After Tim finishes speaking, Steph nods as if that makes sense. Jason finds himself frowning at his feet.

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m gonna come out as a living person. I’ll maybe even pepper in the fact I’m also queer, just to spice things up.”

“Jay, you don’t have to…”

“No, I don’t. When it was Chad’s bullshit about me having to live my best life, I wasn’t going to, but if it’s for you guys, I can do it. Steph’s right. I can’t live a half live." His smile twists into something wicked. "And I know exactly how to do it.”

Congratulations, @JasonToddWayne! Your twitter account has been successfully created.

The first and only post is a picture of a man in a leather jacket and sunglasses in the middle of a fancy lobby. Hanging upside down from the chandelier above him is no one other than Dick Grayson-Wayne holding a flashlight right behind the man’s head to simulate a bright aura. Around him, some kneeling, some standing, but all holding out their arms towards him are all of the Wayne kids, Tim, Cassandra, Duke and even Damian. If you look closely, you can see a smiling butler on the background and, further, a shadow that looks very much like Bruce Wayne facepalming.

The caption of the picture simply says: I lived, bitch.

@dgraysonman retweeted that.

@stephssss retweeted that.

@thomascommaduke retweeted that

@babsgeez retweeted that

@BruceWayne retweeted that

The thing about being part of a scandal you purposefully caused is that you get to kick back and watch the world burn around you while you wear an evil little grin on your face whenever people ask what the hell you were thinking. Tim used to get annoyed by interview requests that had nothing to do with WE and everything to do with his personal life, but for once he enjoys watching the messages piling up and eventually saying no to all of them.

Bruce makes a brief and vague declaration about his son being back from the dead, no big deal, and he expects everyone can respect his family's privacy in this delicate moment. He gives the press just enough and refuses to elaborate. Only liars give too many details and they’re not lying. Not entirely, at least.

Of course, Jason doesn’t help by posting the weirdest freaking memes to his twitter account and, whenever someone tries to get answers from his, his retorts vary widely from “I returned from the grave to wash Damian’s mouth with soap” to “I was captured by a group of murderous ninja that dipped my corpse in a cursed pool that brought me back to life”. Unfortunately, he gets verified and no man should hold so much power.

They return to their lives, Tim in his room, Jason in his and Steph on her couch. Sometimes they even meet in the kitchen to play Uno and prank call Dick - it never works, because Dick always says he’s flattered that they wanted to hear his voice, but it’s the thought behind it that counts.

They go on patrol sometimes. By this time, the public seems to have caught on that Batgirl and Red Robin are basically a duo. Sometimes the Red Hood is included in the mix. For once, Tim doesn’t mind that they know as much.

He thinks they’re heading towards more peaceful days.

DUCK DUCK BRUISE

Duck Robin: hey stephanie what the hell

Duck Hood: Do I even want to know

Bruise: we need our own groupchat

Duck Hood: Why is it named that?

Bruise: bc we red red and purple

Bruise: u never played duck duck bruise?

Duck Robin: its duck duck goose steph

Bruise: u and i led v different childhoods

Duck Hood left the chat

Bruise added Jason Todd to the chat

Bruise changed Jason Todd’s name to Duck Hood

Bruise: u cant escape us jay

Drake Robin: one of us! one of us! one of us!

Duck Hood: Next time either of you complain about not getting laid I’ll show you a screenshot of this conversation.

Jason, Tim and Steph are walking home. It’s still day and, even if the sun isn’t quite shining because this is still Gotham, it’s nice and warm outside. The reason they went to get groceries together is because Jason had been horrified to find out that neither Tim nor Steph knew how to pick fruit and they spent a good part of their afternoon arguing over which apple was the ripest. Tim refused to get out of the shopping cart until their groceries were paid.

It had been fun.

Steph forced them to carry all the bags, arguing that she is but a frail young woman even if Tim is pretty sure she can bench press him. The real reason is because she wants to play Pokemon Go on the walk home and that’s valid, so they carry the bags. She is one of the few people of Gotham that isn’t afraid of getting mugged, so she might as well use that privilege.

A text stops her from catching a bulbasaur right before it stops her entirely.

“Steph?” Tim calls, his brow furrowing in worry.

“It’s happening again,” she whispers.

The brothers approach her to look at her phone. They’re already familiar with this at this point, so none of them is surprised to see a headline and a picture.

MYSTERIOUS BOMBSHELL SEEN LEAVING JASON WAYNE’S APARTMENT

Tim recognizes the outfits they wore two days ago on the day he snapped and forced them to take out the trash together, which ended a week long battle of wills. It’s also the day the biggest bag ripped open and an obscene amount of RedBull cans rolled down the curb. The picture is them watching the disaster. Steph is a pretty girl, but that picture is not doing her any favors. Her face is all scrunched up, as Gothamites tend to be on the rare occasions they see the sun, part of the ripped trash bag still in her hand. Jason has his hands on his hips looking like every bit of the mother hen he is and he is wearing crocs over socks (Tim has sworn to kill Roy Harper for corrupting his brother like that, making him think that’s an okay thing to do and say disgusting things like just try it, you annoying hipster, it’s comfy. )

“You know what? They called me a bombshell, I’m not even mad.”

“How come it’s Jason’s apartment? I’m literally the only person in this household with a dayjob!”

“First of all I'm an university student. Second, you only do actual work because you’re a sucker, you’re all trust fund babies. And that includes you, mr. Crime Lord.”

“Thank you, miss Eats All my Fucking Food.”

They resume their walk without reading the rest of the article. Tim thinks to himself that this is not too bad. Then it gets worse.

“Hey. Are those reporters?” Steph asks. “In front of our house?”

It only takes a glance to find out that she’s right. There is a small group of people hanging out near their apartment complex even though there’s no apparent reason to be there. Any decent Gothamite knows you don’t loiter for no reason, because you never know when the freaking Killer Croc is going to randomly pop out of the sewer or some crap. Those people are there with a purpose and that purpose involves a lot of them holding cameras.

“Yeah, I’m out,” Tim says.

“What?”

“This is the first time I’m not involved in the news. I’m going to enjoy my immunity. You two are on your own for this one.”

He turns his back to them. Enough is enough. Sometimes you just have to draw a line in the sand, let the universe know what you’re willing to put up with on that day. Tim is not willing to deal with this. He gestures at Steph and Jason not to follow him as he stalks into the adjacent empty alley. He takes a long, deep breath and shouts at the top of his lungs:

“COOONNEEEEEEEEEEER!”

Tim had never been better, or at least that’s what he tells himself 50 times in a row. He chose to be in denial and deny he will. He sits on the floor of his best friend’s room and takes a deep calming breath of the fresh air coming through the window. It doesn’t smell like gritty cities or nosey reporters at all.

Conner finally comes back and hands him a bowl of popcorn before taking a seat by his side. He turns on the old television in his room. Tim smiles.

“Hey, your siblings are on the news,” Conner says.

Tim glances at the phone Conner is holding. It’s a picture of Steph walking into their building carrying Jason in her arms as one would carry a toddler, one arm supporting his bottom and the other pointing threateningly at the camera. There is no doubt in Tim's mind that they’re mimicking the meme on purpose. He doesn’t bother reading the headline. He doesn’t want to know. He simply puts the phone aside and hugs Conner.

“I don’t want to go back to Gotham ever again. Let me live here, please.”

Conner laughs. “Sure, Ma’s been trying to get me to kidnap you for a while now.”

“Good. I’m going to learn farm work. I’ll bring honor to us all.”

“Sure," Conner pets his hair. "It’s been a whole day now. You already miss Jason and Stephanie, don’t you?”

“...yeah.”

“I’ll fly you back home tonight.”

“Thanks, Conner, you’re the best.”

Despite everything, there’s no place like home.

[miss-choco-chips]

Soul shards part 2

This isn’t edited in the slightest folks. Wrote this in a LONG car ride and I’m beat. Tumblr was being difficult and wouldn’t let me copy an paste so I had to copy every individual paragraph, so there might be some mistakes.

Shoutout to @sideeffectsofwriting who suggested damitim and kicked the muse into motion and @the-quiet-carrotcake who let me cry about this on chat.

.-.-.-

He needed to do what not even the Batman could achieve.  

He would bring Drake back.

-.-.-.-

11  - 16

Damian’s first gifted soulshard came from his mother, when he turned five. It was a beautiful orange-red dagger, with flecks of gold here and there, and he wanted to hold it more than anything in the world.

Then his mother put it in his hand, closed his fingers around it and held a kitten by the scruff and hind legs in front of him, as an offering. An order. A mission. And, once it was carried, the slightest hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

Those were the feelings the dagger was imbued with; expectation, and pride. Not for who he was, but for what he did. A heavy weight, and a cold one, right until the moment the mission was complete; after that, a short-lived warmth crept up his arm, the starting point the dagger in his hand.

Or maybe it was the kitten’s blood what chased the cold (and his sleep) away. It should have been comforting.

It wasn’t.

When Grayson chose him as his Robin, he sealed the deal by giving Damian an R shaped soul shard in the form of a brooch. It should have been an ecstatic moment for him, his second ever soul shard being gifted to him by his Batman.

It wasn’t. 

While warmer and lighter than his dagger, it felt… off. Their bond was just growing then, no trust nor love giving shape to the soul given away. Instead, Damian was presented with Grayson’s feelings of responsibility (to the city), despair (because they both have just lost their father) and reluctant resignation (because even when Grayson choose him, it was obviously not what he wanted, it couldn’t be, not when there was already a Robin fully indoctrinated in The Mission perfectly available and… more loved), as well as the barest hint of hopeful fondness.

He doesn’t hold it against him; that was just their beginning, and it was the gesture what was important, a gift from the soul that Damian hadn’t yet earned, a trust at giving himself away to the child he had just decided to take under his wing. Were Grayson to give him a new soul shard, he was sure the feelings wouldn’t be so harsh now that they had formed and nurtured this bond between them. Still, he treasured his brooch for what it was: a chance to prove himself, a chance at a home.

Drake’s soul (not a shard, not a piece, but the remainings of his actual soul; his core) was an entirely new phenomenon. The moment he received it, clenched it in his hands for the first time, it was imbued with a rage and contempt that didn’t surprise him, as those were the grounds of their relationship. But, with every passing minute, the feeling just… calmed down, like… forgiveness? Acceptance? It was like a pat on the back after a hard patrol with Grayson, after he made a mistake and the man would just sigh and tell him ‘do better next time, but let’s just put this behind us’. But… from Drake?

It- that was- there weren’t actual words to explain it. Damian had never heard of it, of a change on the emotions inside the soul, but, he supposes, this wasn’t something Drake had sharded with an idea in mind, this wasn’t a love confession or a methaporical friendly hug. Drake had just… given himself away, entirely.

Damian wasn’t sure what it meant, but the mystery of that pushed him relentlessly to the batcave, to the monitors where he would watch and rewatch old footage of Drake’s training, read old reports, dig as deep as he could in search of information that might clear things up for him.

That might explain the clench in his heart when he held the tiny soul.

.-.-.-.

He is missing.

Bruce can’t process it at first. He has every camera, every metahuman, every genius hero at his disposal… and nothing.  No one could find Tim, and he’s been gone for over a week. Seven days and twelve hours, if he was counting. Which he was, because seeing the pretty ice blue watch on his wrist, warm with admiration, respect and adoration, slowly turning cold and red and black was high on the list of the scariest moments of his life. 

He was holding his son’s soul, soon it wouldn’t feel any different than the Rolex he might wear for a charity.

It terrified him.

The only piece of Tim’s soul he could find (and it had taken him a while, to track down everyone Tim ever gave a shard to, even going so far as to dig Janet and Jack’s graves, because there were so many pieces; too many, although his Titans friends had flat out rejected his request to give them to him) to remain icy blue was Damian’s. Which would be fantastic for testing, for figuring out what was wrong, maybe even for tracking Tim down…  If Damian weren’t so dead set on keeping it in his direct line of sight, on the little leather pouch by his hip or dangling from his neck.

The twelve year old had proven willing to stab any hand that tried to take his soul shard away, accepting only those tests that were safe and could be made in front of his eyes.

-We could try to, like… mesh my piece of soul with Damian’s? -had suggested Dick, once, earlier on the week.

-And how, pray tell, would you do it? Drake himself is the one that shaped your necklace. This are his soul shards, no one but him can bend them to their will. 

-I mean… Cass’s father, Cain, he made dents and bumps in her soul, so it’s not like its impossible…

-…after years of abuse, from which her soul has yet to recover! Of all the stupid/!

Dick, on very little sleep and with worry and guilt battling it out inside his heart, rolled his eyes at Damian’s objections.

-We won’t hurt him for the hell of it, but he could be in danger, or lost, or who knows what! There’s little to no precedent about soulless people. Since when do you care so much about Tim’s wellbeing, anyway?

-And since when do you *not*?

That had ended the argument quickly. Guilt had won in Dick. Damian’s gifted little piece of soul remained at it’s pouch.  And Tim was still missing.

Bruce wanted to pull at his hair, yell and throw fists. He did none of these. Damian needed him. He had already failed one son.

.-.-.-.

12  - 17 

Life goes on, after a tragedy. And this tragedy in particular was a silent one; there was no blood, no screaming, no tears. Just someone that left it all behind and disappeared on the wind. And, as much as the Bats wanted to find him, Tim going on a solo trip wasn’t alarming enough for them to ignore the day to day dangers of Gotham, the multiverse threats, the alien invasions. As concerning as multiple soul shards changing color and losing emotion had been, the fact remained that it… just wasn’t priority.

Timothy could look after himself; the civilians of Gotham and the world at large couldn’t.   At least, that was what father said.

Damian was of a different mind.

He noticed it at first during a Justice League meeting. He had taken to playing around with the little ice blue ball when lost in thought, or was nervous, a habit developed after hours, days and months sitting by the cave’s monitors studying his predecessor.

So there he was, idly rolling it between his fingers, careful to not drop it, when he catches sight of Superboy…

(The Titans were a mess, Wonder Girl, SB and Impulse running around like headless chickens, dropping everything, no matter how mission-important, at the slightest mention of anything Red Robin related, recruiting the help of old fiends from their Young Justice days, hurting so much not even him, usually indifferent to his peers’ drama, could remain untouched by their pain) 

…being scolded by Superman. Which, would normally not even phase Damian, impartial about the clone outside of his relationship with Drake as he was.

But. But. When Superman layed a condescending hand on Kon El’s shoulder, something spiked inside Damian, a sudden and strong desire to slap that hand away, to growl at the man, to protect his/ 

…his best friend?  

That thought it’s what gives him pause, stops him mid step, where he was unthinkingly approaching the aliens. 

Those weren’t his feelings, but Drake’s.

At the realization, the little soul in his hand glowed and warmed and almost jumped right out of it.  It seemed to say ‘finally’.

Damian couldn’t breath.

.-.-.-.

He kept quiet about this new knowledge, but it nagged at him. He had to test this out. 

He held the small soul while watching Grayson train by the Cave’s trapeze. Rolled it between fingers with little to no trouble while covertly listening to Cain and Brown tease each other. Made a protective fist around it when he stumbled across Red Hood during patrol, catching the -now reformed- antiheroe mid flight. 

Admiration and yearning (teach me, choose me, love me).

Fondness and familiarity (bond with me, laugh with me, stand by me).

Trepidation and want (please look at me, please stop hating me, please let me watchadmirelove you). 

Those weren’t his feelings, so. Confirmed then. Holding Drake’s soul, he apparently had an open door to the man’s feelings. An insight to the deepest parts of him. 

Weeks into his discovery, he learned a few things. For example, how annoyingly emotional the young man was. Did Drake always feel everything this intensely? It was exhausting, and Damian at least had the option to put the soul away at it’s pouch, stopping the flow of emotions. Drake… well, he did leave it behind, after all. 

Which made him wonder, if he had Drake’s emotions at hand, what did it leave his predecessor with?

.-.-.-.-.-.

13  - 18

It pained Damian to admit this, but Drake was… good. Too good. Unbelievable so, for someone that started his formal training way later in life than Damian.  

The footage in front of him was one he had viewed already dozens of times, and he still couldn’t believe his eyes. A gift requested to his mother, footage from the Cradle, about two years before.  

At first, Damian had just wanted to uncover the mystery of Drake’s time away during Father’s absence. What happened during those months, to drive one like his Gradfather from mild admiration to almost obsessive, possessive desire? What elevated the, by the time, teenager to a spot previously occupied by none other than The Batman, and even beyond? 

His in into the League allowed him access to the answer. And he understood.  The mixture of recklessly brave plans, creatively executed acrobatics, heart-stopping genius and iron clad morals. Fighting against the Spiders, protecting the innocent at his back, all the while under tight schedule on his plan to land an unprecedented hard blow to the League.  

It was breathtaking. The young detective, that unmasked the man many believed was no more than a myth, the novice hero that when told ‘no’ started his own team of fighters, that while no one else thought it possible defied Death itself for the life of his adoptive father. Barely older than Damian himself, with half his years of training, and still so far away. Leagues ahead of him. 

Out of his reach… 

A grimace,  an unfamiliar tightness in his chest and then Damian was cracking his knuckles and typing away at the computer.  If his Grandfather viewed Drake above Father, then maybe Damian was going about this the wrong way, in his quest to surpass every Robin before him. He needed to succeed where even Father had failed, reaching to a step below Drake instead of the entire flight of stairs he had ahead of him.

  …but not for long.  

He needed to do what not even the Batman could achieve.  

He would bring Drake back.

.-.-.-.-.

It takes some time. He studies for weeks under Gordon, shadows Cyborg’s steps for a while, even declines patrol once or twice claiming a stomachache when he feels he’s close to a clue. Has the Titans permanently hacked (props of connecting from the Batcave’s computer, no one questioned the backdoor on their system, assumed it was Batman checking on them) and an alert programmed on his phone for every time some reporter catches sight of the Drake-Wayne heir (none so far, but, like a voice that sounded like Grayson singsonged, cover all your bases).  

And even after all of that, it was still Drake himself that pointed him in the right direction.  

Damian was idly scrolling down some online headlines, mind numb with tiredness barely paying attention to the titles, when the little soul between his forefinger and thumb gave him a spark, so sudden it was like an electric shock, sapping him out of it and forcing his attention to the article on screen. 

Serial killer known as The Gardener found tied in the front lawn of his supposed next victims, after seven months evading the Parisian police force. Family claims they never saw nor heard anything until the morning, when the father was about to head for work and stumbled across the handcuffed man, hand clutching his signature weapon, unconscious and still bleeding from, what the police assumes, was a short lived fight… 

The soul pulsed again. Disgust, rage, adrenaline… pride, vindictive pride. The same emotions that soared through him when a would be rapist fell to his sword during patrol. 

Quick eyes scanning through the article, nothing pointing towards a vigilante, no pattern that he could see pointing to his missing predecessor. And still, Damian knew.

Energy renewed, he scanned through older news, titles. Nothing sparked the soul, until a thwarted robbery on Scotland gave him pause. Again, the article itself was generic, no common points except the mystery of whoever stopped the crime from happening, but… his gut, and Drake’s gut, they were both screaming at him.  

This was him. What was he doing on Paris? Was he still there? Two articles, separated by a few weeks, was more of a clue than anyone had found this far, but it was still nothing. And the last one, with the Serial Killer, was from two days ago. Even if he told Father and he dispatched a velocist or super, it’d still be too  late. Drake wouldn’t have been able to evade them this long if he iddled long somewhere. Sighing tiredly he fell back into the chair, raising the little soul so it was eye level.

After all this time, after all his training, after all of father’s efforts to track his wayward son, it was proved only Drake could find Drake. A little, sleep deprived smile broke his scowl.  

He was too tired to feel frustration.

Not too much for admiration, though.

.-.-.-.-.

That same night, oceans away, a slim figure dealt the finishing blow to some wannabe gangsters on a upper class Venetian neighbour. They had been armed, but only the slightest of scratches decorated his arm. The other guys… weren’t so lucky. They’d be lucky if their broken ribs didn’t pierce a lung.  

The scared girls that he saved from being jumped (or worse) rushed forward once their attackers hit the ground, sobbing between their heartfelt thanks and praises. Trembling hands reaching for his cap-less back, the slippery material of his dark shirt slipping from their fingers. Still, he carefully moved out of range and tonelessly told them to call for the police, letting them comfort each other and waiting only until he could hear the sirens approaching. Then, he was gone, lost to the night that had spited him out to fight the treath minutes before.  

On the back of his mind, something told him he should be annoyed. He had been good to keep himself out of the media’s attention, dealing with crimes where no one would be able to pinpoint exactly who had been their saviour, or how had they been spared from the danger. Like the Parisian family. Now that was a clean work. Found the killer, guessed his next target and caught him just before the crime. In, fight, out. Easy, untraceable.

Two scared girls might not have the clearest memories of their traumatic attack, but ‘young, black clothed man fights off gangsters with a staff’ would surely make the headlines, which meant hailing ass as far from here as possible before anyone could trace this back to him.  

People tracking him raised in his gut… the closest thing to emotions he had nowadays (something he hadn’t been bothered with for years now), namely annoyance. He had a goal in mind, rules he played by, things to avoid. Having all that endangered was troublesome, and even worse was how inevitable it was. He couldn’t exactly ignore the crying girls, not because he cared, but his body always moved on its own on situations like this, personal preferences overrode by muscle memory.

How inconvenient.

And speaking of…

He barely nodded in acknowledgement when a shadowed figure fell into step besides him, keeping up on his sprint from rooftop to rooftop.

-My Master wishes to extend an invitation to dinner. He demands your company.  

Not Pru then, but not so different from what he expected.

He hummed, for show more than anything else, eyeing the leather pouch by the man’s hip. A Soul Carrier, nothing flashy but firmly attached. Classic League.

The shadow flinched. They all did. Something in his lack of soul scared them shitless when he payed attention to theirs, as if he would snatch them and steal away with it.

Ha. Please. He didn’t even want his own soul back, why in hell would he take theirs? He’d never feel lighter before.

And even if sometimes the emptiness inside made him eye with attention the knife he carried on his boot as a last resort, those moments were few and easily forgotten.

-Depends. Is he ready to pay for the pleasure of it? It’s been a while, I’m on need of cash and resources, so my fee has gone up.  

A moment of silence while the shadow listened on his earpiece for his answer. Then, a nod.

-Okay then. Tell him to send me directions to the place once I’m out of this country. And that if he wants me to wear something pretty, he better chose a nice, camera-less place. Also, if he doesn’t keep his hands to himself, he’ll need one of those shiny green pools of his to regrow a few fingers.

.-.-.-.-.

14  - 19

Todd’s emergency beacon called from Tokyo, interrupting their post patrol debrief. Father had programmed all their distress signals so they would always come through, no matter what else was doing on or what Do not Disturb protocols he might have. Nothing would get in the way to saving his sons ever again.  

When they answered, tense and (in Damian’s case, reluctantly) worried, it was to the sounds of heavy breathing and clang of metal against metal. A fight.

-/ing hell! Fuck! Goddamned little/ anyone copy me?!

Father, cowless but every bit the Batman, pressed a finger against the keyboard and dropped his voice am octave. 

-Red Hood, here cave, we copy you. What’s the situation?

The sounds of fighting never stopped, and whatever could keep Hood on his toes like this and forced him to call for help was enough to have Damian reaching for his Soul Carrier, where two different (in size and colorthen) spheres guarded each other. It was a habit he needed to train himself out of, but for now, a needed comfort. 

-I /shit shit SHIT, YOU LITTLE FUCKER/ I found the bastard! Tim!

A needle dropping could be heard in the following silence. Cain steps as she approached the batconputer could be heard  and that was something.

The smallest of the souls in his carrier pulsed at the sight of Brown’s distress as she clutched Black Bat’s hand, her other going to the almost completely red locket hanging from her neck. If it followed the pattern of both Grayson and Father, it would soon turn dark.  

(Unlike the clone and velocist, those two’s soul shards still retained the icy blue color, and Damian couldn’t help but think it had something to do with the fact that the people that had betrayed Drake the worst were the ones that were losing their connection to him first; Cain’s own compass was still mostly blue) 

Damian’s own soul basically jumped to his hand at the implication of what Todd was saying (he ignored the flash of disappointment that he wasn’t the one to find Drake, the little spark of something on the icy blue little ball that still reacted to that idiotic Todd…).  

Grayson was the one that basically pushed father out of the way, so he could lean over the keyboard, as if that would make him be heard clearer, hand fondling with the chain around his neck that was Drake ’s first shard, both to be created and to lose it’s warmth. 

-A-are you sure? Our Timmy?

-You have eyes on him? -demanded father as he typed away, faster than Damian ever remembered seeing, probably sending some kind of message to the Justice League for assistance.

-Damn right I’m sure, stumbled across him during my mission here, don’t know anyone as annoying/ FUCK can’t you see I’m on the phone ya lil shit?! I can do you one better than eyes on the bastard, B, I’ll put my hands around his weasly lil neck/! 

A window popped on the Cave monitor (of course Gordon was eavesdropping) as Oracle traced the call and hacked the street camera closest to Todd’s location. 

The figure was all in black, taller and leaner than Damian remembered. Or was that because he spent so much time watching footage of his time as Robin?

Drake was smaller then, baby faced and bird-boned. A child. Somewhere along the line, lost in studying his formative years, Damian had forgot the fact that he was a man, now.

He certainly looked the part, now. Graceful as fought Hood off, tough a lot more brutal, if Hood’s grunts of pain everyone the shiny staff made contact could be believed. He seemed in a hurry, too, judging by his almost too fast to be seen movements. 

The fight moved a little (likely Hood’s doing), and they shifted just enough for them to see, in the grainy quality of the camera, a second of Drake’s face before before he seemed to sense that he was being watched.

Something was thrown the camera’s way, a little gadget, and everything turned black. The only connection the Cave had to Drake now was the still going sounds of fighting. 

-Hood, tell him to stop! We don’t mean him any harm/

-I do, the little fucker broke my left wrist! Imma gonna show him!

-Hood! -now not only Grayson, but Brown too, chided. 

-Just stall him -commanded Father- Clark is on his way.

-Easy for you to say! Whatever he’s being doing this last few years, it gave him a hell of a boost. I can barely/ 

Silence. Not just Hood shutting up, but no more breaths, no more metallic clang. The line had been cut, something that shouldn’t been possible after all the upgrades father made to their comms. 

By the time Superman arrived to Gotham, an hour had passed, and not even Gordon could re install the connection to either the street camera nor the comm. Not that it would do any good: Hood was unconscious and brutally beated up, and not even a full scan of the city by various metas gave them any hint of Drake ’s location.  

The icy blue soul pulsed with guilt at hood’s state, but also an undeniable pride at the fact that Drake got away.

Damian felt like throwing it against a wall. Instead, he cradled it in his hands, against his chest, as he went to sleep that night.

He dreamed of grainy camera footage, the face in the recording handsome and lethal, the coldness on pretty eyes replaced by the emotional icy blue of his soul.

.-.-.-.-.

He woke up in the morning and laid on bed for a while. 

Ignorant on the emotional side of things as Grayson might believe him, Damian wasn’t about to lie to himself. 

There was no denying the clenching on his gut when the camera displayed the video of the dark figure fighting, the disappointment  when Hood failed to bring Drake home, the spark of annoyance at the fact that the tiny soul still reacted to the second Robin, the flash of white warmth that crept up him when he saw the results of Drake’s power on Hood’s battle wounds.  

The craving pumping his heart was like nothing he ever felt before.

It was kinda like seeing his mother holding her soul shard his way, like Grayson hands fastening the R brooch on his cape for the first time, like giving Father a ring and Nightwing a bracelet, nervous in a way that was unbecoming to someone of the Al Ghul’s household.   

It was wanting to receive and to be accepted.

It was even more than that.

It was holding Drake’s entire soul in his hand, small and battered as it was, and thinking ’I’ll fix this’. It was masterfully twirling it in his hand, easy from practice, letting Drake's  emotions wash over him, his fierce protectiveness over his friends, his honest fondness over the family, the growing approval every time Damian cracked a case or figured out a mystery on his own.

It wasn’t Drake himself, but at the same time it was.  

Damian dropped his head back into the pillow and raised the hand holding the tiny soul, his own gold, green and blue one laying on the mattress by his hip. It had tiny specs of ice blue on it, influenced against his will by the soul that shared the soul carrier with for so long now, not too different from the way his mother’s orange red soul had some dark blue hues dancing near it’s core, or how Pennyworth’s silver one had the barest hints of yellow, which the butler once told him were remnants of his first love.  

He never would admit to be emulating Todd, but in that moment, he couldn’t help it.

-Fuck.

[cdelphiki]

Hello! Could you do "I'm not leaving you here!" with Tim and Damian? Can't wait to see what all you do!

There was no time.  

Normally, Tim could form half a dozen plans, and then five more for every outcome of the first six whenever anything happened to them.  But this time—there wasn’t time.  

They had really gotten themselves into quite a pickle.

Well…

Damian had gotten them into said pickle.  

He was too brash sometimes.

Maybe if he stoped to think more often, Tim would have more time to think now.  

But instead, he found himself collapsed on the floor, trying his best to hold all his insides in where they belonged, while Damian subtly panicked by his side, similarly applying pressure to the massive gash in Tim’s abdomen.  

It’d been a lucky hit, honestly.  Tim had been distracted by trying to disarm the moron with the gun and wrongfully assumed Damian was handling the idiot with the knife.  He hadn’t been.  And that guy managed to slash out at Tim and get him, right in the side.  

At least Damian took him out immediately after.  What he’d been doing before Tim nearly lost more of his organs, he isn’t sure.  But at least he pulled through in the end…

Now, though.  Now they were royally screwed.  

They were in a room, deep inside the compound they’d infiltrated, essentially trapped.  There were two unconscious guys handcuffed to the radiator pipes, and about three hundred more outside.  

Looking for them.  

Tim could hear gunfire down the hall.  The periodic bang bang of a trained gunman, walking through rooms, and shooting at whatever he saw.  It was setting Tim on edge, because he knew they were looking for them. 

And Tim couldn’t walk.

He could do nothing to defend Robin.  To defend himself.  He’d just be a passive observer to Robin’s death.

“Robin,” he wheezed, causing Damian to look up from his wound, the whites of his lenses not revealing anything the boy was feeling, “Go.”  

There was nothing Tim could do.  He wouldn’t be able to follow Damian.  Wouldn’t be able to even make it out of this room, much less follow the complicated path they’d taken to get in this far.  And Damian most certainly couldn’t carry him.  Sure, he was strong, but Tim weighed more than him, and at this point he’d be pretty much dead weight.

“What?” he demanded, “and what, you’ll just cartwheel your way out behind me?  Don’t be ridiculous.”  

After pushing himself into a sitting position, Tim tried to shove Damian away from him, but all he succeeded in doing was groaning as his side protested at the movement.

“Drake,” Damian snapped, “do not be stupid.  You are in danger of bleeding out if we don’t staunch the blood.”  

“You,” Tim said, his breathing labored as he tried to get his body to obey him, tried to keep his strength in check, “need to leave.” 

Instead of respond, Damian pushed Tim back down into a laying position and started rifling through his pockets.  He pulled out an emergency suture kit, and Tim just reached out and grabbed his hand.  

The gunshots were getting closer, and each double tap filled Tim with more dread.  Because if they entered this room, there was absolutely nothing he could do.  He’d be helpless, just laying here.  As he calculated, he only had a few more minutes of consciousness before the blood loss got him, and then not much longer beyond of actual…. Aliveness.  And Damian would likely get himself shot trying to defend Tim, and he did not want his last minutes on this earth to be crying over the death of Robin.  

No thank you.

He’d much rather Robin leave and get away.  Go find help, maybe. It didn’t really matter what he did, as long as he had a chance.  

“No.  There isn’t time.  You have to get out of here.”  

Damian scowled and pushed Tim’s hand away from the wound, after he’d threaded the needle and stuck a flashlight in his own mouth, to point directly at the wound.  

Tim grimaced as the needle went into his skin, then clenched his teeth so hard he thought he might crack the crown in there when Damian pulled it through.  

“Damian,” he plead, between stitches, “Please.  You have to go.”

“No,” Damian snapped, pausing just long enough to hold the flashlight so he could talk, “I am not leaving you.  So shut up.” 

The gunfire paused for a moment, and Damian took it as an opportunity to get three more stitches in, each one making Tim suppress a groan.  Because, damn, Damian was not being gentle. 

“Sorry,” Damian mumbled, around the flashlight, “we’ll have to redo…”

“If you don’t get leave,” Tim whispered, just as the gunfire started up again, now more constant than before, “they’re gonna catch us.  The sutures won’t matter.”  

Scowling harder, Damian picked up the speed and put four more stitches in before finally cutting the thread.  He spat the flashlight off onto the ground and snapped, “Do you want to die?”

“I want you to not die,” Tim replied, echoing Damian’s tone.  

“Right,” he said, aggressively ripping open a clean pack of gauze before he placed it over the fresh stitches and started wrapping Tim’s entire abdomen, “Great.  I live, you die.  Just how everyone would want it, right?  Is that what you think?”

The next gunshot happened not even 30 feet away, outside the locked door they were hiding behind.  It made Damian jump, just slightly, before his scowl deepened. 

Tim closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. “You bought us time,” he mumbled, trying to think through the haze that had started to set in, “You can get away and go get help. Then come back for me.”  

“I’m not leaving you,” he whispered harshly.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” he shot back, succeeded this time at sitting himself up, Damian now done wrapping the wound.  It was still bleeding, ever so slightly, but it wasn’t a danger of bleeding out anytime soon.  

Kill him with infection? Sure. But that required he lived long enough for it to get infected. Either he’d be shot in about 64 seconds, or they’d escape and Alfred would fix it.  

He was kind of counting on the getting shot option.  

Damian looked around frantically and locked eyes on a pipe, laying on the ground among a pile of random repair pieces.  He grabbed it, then tip toed to the door, positioning himself just beside it, waiting for their hunter to bust in the door. 

“Damian,” Tim pleaded, whispering as loudly as he dared with someone just outside. 

“Shut up, Tim,” Damian whispered back.  

Just a second later, the door knob jiggled, and Tim sucked in a breath.  Damian gripped the pipe tighter and lifted it high, ready to bring it down on the head of whoever broke in.  

A gunshot went off, blasting the lock into a dozen tiny pieces, and then the door was kicked open, faster than a strike of lightning.  

Tim was unable to suppress the pained cry he made when he jumped, possibly tearing one of the already shitty stitches.  

At the same time, Damian swung the pipe and connected solidly with the helmet of their hunter, causing a crack to form right at the crown of it.  

“The fuck,” Jason cursed, snatching the pipe from a stunned Damian and throwing it across the room, away from both Tim and the unconscious thugs, “Watch where you’re swinging shit, brat.  You’re lucky I wear a helmet, unlike you dumbasses.”

“Hood,” Damian sighed, the relief in his voice so palpable, it made even Jason freeze.  

“Yeah, kid,” he said, awkwardly patting Damian on the head, “I’m here.”

“Was that you shooting?” Tim asked, pausing in the middle to take a breath.  His side was hurting about fifty times more, now.  With the definitely popped stitch.  

“Uh huh.”  Jason crossed the room in three long strides and knelt beside Tim.  Damian retrieved his pipe and took up position by the door, but considering how relaxed Jason was acting, Tim doubted there were anymore men outside to post threats to them.

He just hoped Jason hadn’t killed everyone in the building…

“Heard you two were infiltrating this place tonight.  You should have talked to me first, I’ve been watching this operation for months.  You were woefully unprepared.”

“Yeah,” Tim laughed, moving his hands so Jason could look at the quickly bleeding through bandages, “Figured that out.”  

“Seriously, you brats taking on an entire gang’s main operation?  By yourself?  Idiots.”  

“Tt,” Damian huffed, “We were fine until Red got himself stabbed.”

“It was your guy,” Tim protested, “Your guy stabbed me.”  

“And then he wanted me to abandon him to die,” Damian continued, completely ignoring Tim. 

Jason added another layer of gauze to the wrap, then pat Tim on the shoulder.  “I know teaming up with the demon is difficult,” he said, slipping one arm behind Tim’s back and the other under his knees, “but really, there are much better ways to be rid of him than dying. Trust me.  Been there.  Done that.  0/10 would not do again.”  

“Shut up,” Tim whined, trying his best not to cry a little as Jason jostled him.  He wrapped one arm around Jason’s neck and closed his eyes tight.  “I didn’t know you were the idiot shooting everyone.”  

“Yes,” Damian drawled, falling in step just before Jason as they began making their way out of the compound, “I was not aware you were in Gotham tonight.”  

“This idiot just saved your hide, you ungrateful little brats.  And I lied about going on a mission.  I wanted a break.  But nooooooo, you morons had to go on a suicide mission instead.”  

“Tt.  It was not-”

“Red is actively dying,” Jason interrupted, “So zip it.”  

Surprisingly, Damian did zip it.  And he kept it zipped, at least as long as Tim could remember.  Because he did eventually fall asleep, lulled there by the gentle swaying motion caused by Jason’s gait.  If Jay tried to wake him, it didn’t work, and in retrospect, Tim was glad for that.

Because the next thing he knew, he was waking up in the Batcave, his torso properly cleaned and sewn up, an IV in his hand, delivering what Tim was sure to be heavy antibiotics to stave off whatever infection the crappy field suturing probably caused.  

When he looked around, he was mildly surprised to find no Bruce sitting at his side.  Usually Bruce was all over these sorts of things.  His guilt complex awesome at making him be comforting after nearly dying.  

Honestly, there was nothing like a ‘I’m glad you didn’t die, Tim,’ hug from Bruce.  

But Bruce wasn’t there. Instead, Damian was sitting in the chair, his legs thrown up over the side as he watched something on his tablet, completely oblivious to the world.  

“Where’s Bruce?” Tim croaked, then paused to clear his throat, because wow.  He hadn’t used his voice in a while, had he?  “How long was I out?”

Damian looked at his watch and said, almost uninterested, “About 17 hours.  Pennyworth made Father go to bed a couple hours ago.”

Tim wanted to ask Damian why he was there, then, but he had the feeling doing so would just make Damian leave. And Tim didn’t really want to be alone.  He always hated being alone, trapped in the medbay in the cave.  It was dark and spooky down there, honestly.  When alone and unable to work on anything.  The screeching of the bats was just creepy.  Sometimes.  

So instead, he asked, “What are you watching?” as he sat his bed up some.  

“A documentary series I found on youtube.  It’s about royal families in Europe and how they’re all related.”  

“Uh,” Tim said, scrunching his eyebrows, “That’s interesting.”  

“Hardly,” Damian dismissed, waving a hand at Tim, as if asking him to stop talking.  

And maybe being alone down here wouldn’t be so bad, after all.  “What are you doing down here?” 

Annoyance flickered on Damian’s face before he clicked the tablet off and stood.  “If you ever,” he said darkly, taking the few steps to Tim’s bedside to point a finger at him, “ever ask me to leave you to die again, I’ll…” 

Damian paused, and narrowed his eyes.  Tim couldn’t help it, he had to ask, “You’ll what?  Kill me?”

“Tt,” Damian huffed, scowling now, “Obviously not.  That would be counterproductive.”

“Then what?”

“I’ll tell on you,” Damian decided, nodding to himself.  

“You’ll tell on me? What are we, five?” 

“Yes. I’ll tell Father and Grayson about your recklessness and—”

“I wasn’t being reckless,” Tim said, “Your guy stabbed me. Not! Reckless!”  

“Whatever,” Damian said, rolling his eyes, “Just don’t do it again.” 

Tim wanted to keep arguing. He wanted to tell Damian there was nothing he could threaten Tim with to make him value his own life above that of a literal child’s, especially when that child was kind of technically his little brother. But instead he could see the underlying anxiety forcing this entire encounter, so he couldn’t help himself saying, “Aww, you were worried about me.”  

And instead of snap back and deny it, as Tim was expecting, Damian just scowled harder and said, “Of course I was. You were trying make me let you die.”  

“Damian,” he sighed, rubbing at his face with his free hand. He was honestly so exhausted.  Which was weird, sleeping 17 hours and all. “I was just trying to save you.”  

“We’re family,” Damian said slowly, looking away from Tim as he did and crossing his arms, “I can’t….”

“Damian,” Tim interrupted, reaching out and latching onto Damian’s sleeve.

“Tim.  Don’t ask me to do that again.”  

All Tim could do was nod.  Because he was afraid if he tried to say anything, he might just cry.  Or say something stupid and ruin the entire moment.  

But Damian spoke up, holding his tablet up for Tim to see. “I have movies on this.”  

With a smile, Tim scooted over the best he could and let Damian climb up next to him. About an hour into The Incredibles, when Damian’s eyes keep drooping more and more with ever blink, and Tim was just about as close to falling back asleep, Tim whispered, “Sorry.”  

And when Damian just nodded and leaned his head against Tim’s shoulder to fully fall asleep, he took it as forgiveness.