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fightevilandthengetblownup · 3 years

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FIC: SOMETHING BORROWED, SOMETHING BLUE III

—

PART ONE

PART TWO

“Now, you need to make your eyes really wide-” Jo’s ears perked hearing the false whisper from somewhere behind her as she worked at the stove. Biting down on the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling, the blonde continued to work on the pancakes for breakfast - using her squeeze bottle to pour the batter out into the shape of a batarang before spelling out her boy’s name inside before flooding the middle as she listened to the talk. “Nice and big like that, yeah. And then what do we say to Mommy?”

“Mommy, can we have blueberries too?”

“That’a boy.” Jack’s whisper disappeared in favor of the warmth in his tone as he smiled down at the boy. Jo glanced over her shoulder, catching the amusement in those blue eyes for a moment before looking back at her pancake. “Let’s go, huh?”

“Yes!” Billy’s voice was high and excited, and Jo schooled her face into a look of surprise as she flipped over the current pancake and then looked down at her son when he tugged on the hem of her sleep shirt. “Moooommy!”

Blinking a few times, Jo smiled down at her sweet boy before answering. “Yeah babyboy?”

“Mommy, I… Umm..” Jo fought down a laugh watching the sudden look of confusion swallowing the young boy’s face, Billy’s eyes blown wide and worried before he held a hand to his lips in thought. Glancing up, she could see Jack’s shoulders shuddering with concealed laughter, before the tug of Billy’s hand caught her attention again. “Mommy, can… can we have blueberries too?”

The way his finger tapped against his bottom lip and his green eyes were big and open and pleading, Jo knew immediately that she was absolutely screwed dealing with him going forward ever saying no. Puppy dog eyes added to that soft pleading tone was just too potent and she let out a small whine of frustration realising just how screwed she was.

“Oh darling boy, of course you can.” Kneeling down as she turned the temperature of the pan down lower in her off hand on the way, Jo leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead with a loud ‘mwah’ noise. “You get Jack to help you grab them out and wash them proper, alright?”

“Yes Mommy!”

Sending a tiny, pretend scowl over her son’s head towards the smirking man, Jo turned back to the pan and checked the base of the current pancake before sliding it out and onto the boy’s black and red plate before starting on the next pancake for the other adult. Slowly drawing out a spider followed by its web, she flooded the gaps between as she kept one ear out for any trouble from her men as she carefully made Jack’s pancake, and then a cutesy looking mallet for her own pancake design; Jo bit down on a chuckle hearing her love explaining carefully how to rinse and then dry the blueberries and pile them into a little bowl to share on the table. Looking over her shoulder as she flipped her pancake, she looked on fondly as she watched the little blond boy carry his bounty of blueberries onto the table like they were something special.

“Alrighty boys, who’s ready for pancakes?” She chirped happily as she flipped her pancake out onto her own plate and turned off the burner for now, picking up all three plates carefully before carrying them to the table herself. “I know I am.”

“Me me me!” Billy cried happily, clambering into his seat and kicking his feet joyfully, before letting out an excited squeal seeing his little batarang pancake. “Batcake! It’s a Batcake!”

“Now, is that what Batman eats for breakfast?” Jack replied curiously, pressing a kiss to the little boy’s head as he sat a sippy cup of juice in front of Billy before placing a glass of the same down for himself and another for Jo with another kiss to the crown of her head that made her tingle all over with how right this all felt. “Oh!” The surprised noise made her smile as she looked over to the look of pleased surprise on his face at seeing his own pancake design. “Jo…”

“What? Only the best for my boys!”

The chuckle she got in response was cut through by the shrill sound of a ringtone from the end of the table where their mobiles were kept in a basket, keeping technology out of family meal times at a suggestion from Jack’s that made Jo feel so special and focused on when that was first suggested. The sound cut off pretty quickly, and both adults rolled their eyes, whoever it was would be called back later. As soon as it stopped though, it started again. And then the other phone was going off as well. And then the duller sound of the singular landline from the front hall chimed in as well.

“What the fu-” Jo cut off her swear with a glance at her son, the need to cut down on her swearing around the last year really having become prominent after a few too many comments from his daycare teacher, but found it hard not to finish as all three phones quieted and then started ringing again. “Okay, rule break?”

“You help Billy with his bluebs, I’ll check what’s up.”

“Thanks, hun.”

Jo let out a soft sigh as Jack set his utensils down and stood up to fish his ringing phone out of the basket and answer it, as well as taking her distractingly ringing phone, out to the hall while she refocused on breakfast.

Billy ate not only his first batarang, but another two full pancakes and almost the whole bowl of blueberries through the meal, sipping his juice and asking with those big green puppy-eyes to go to the playground that afternoon; and Jo got through another pancake all her own as well as her juice and a cup of matcha before their missing member finally reemerged. Followed unexpectedly by Ellen and Bobby, still in their shoes and holding Billy’s overnight bag.

“Nanny! Bobby!” Billy screeched happily, flinging himself away from where Jo had been getting him to help her with unstacking the dishwasher while they’d awaited Jack’s return. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Billyboy, we thought you might like a weekend sleep over?” Ellen said happily as Bobby had bent down to scoop up the excited, wiggly boy. “We missed you so much, and you haven’t been over in ages.”

“Mom, you babysat last week-” Jo started with a frown at the unexpected arrival, glancing at the clock and fully surprised to even see her step-dad so awake and focused at such an early hour, let alone dressed and at her own house. “What’s-”

“Jobug,” her mother spoke softly, as Bobby turned towards Jack to double check on any extra toys to pack for Billy’s weekend, as she’d come up to wrap Jo up into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you didn’t mean this to happen-”

“What to happen?”

“You just talk to Jack, okay Jojo? You take the whole weekend, my darlin’ girl, you take the love you deserve okay?”

“Mom?” Jo was beyond confused, wide eyed and uncertain as she received a kiss to the forehead from both her parents in a whirlwind of quietly spoken words between the other three adults that made no sense to her before her son was whisked off to his grandparent’s place amid happy cries of adventure leaving her bewildered and confused as to what just happened. “What-”

There wasn’t even time for her to vocalise her questions - what happened, what was going on, what was wrong, was everyone okay - before she was pulled into and wrapped up in loving arms and felt a strong hand gently soothing over her hair and down her back.

“Jo, love, I’m so sorry.” Jack’s voice was rough and hoarse, and as she looked up at him she could see something swirling in his eyes that troubled her. “I’m sorry. I should’ve protected you, I should’ve known, I’m sorry.”

“Wha- what is going on, Jack?” She asked firmly that time, staring up at him and feeling her face twisting into a scowl at the sympathetic sadness flashing across his face chased along by some guilty look. “Jack fuckin’ Grey, you tell me right fuckin’ now what’s goin’ on!”

The quiet that followed on from her growled words echoed in the quiet space of their home, and Jo felt uneasy at how cautiously the other looked at her - his hand still gently rubbing at her back as the other held her steady - as he chewed his lip before saying softly. “The article came out… And I think you should read it with me.”

—

THE FUTURE MRS. GREY?

The Modern Fairy Tale Inside The Wedding Of The Year

By Chuck Shurley

Just off the main shopping district of the West Side there is a place where fairytales begin. Inside a deceptively worn building there was the start of many stories that are shaping the news of tomorrow - and I was fortunate enough to uncover the true Cinderella story that was unfolding in secret behind all the cameras and spotlights on the wedding of one French aristocrat-turned-investor Ian Essaim and socialite Shada Grey.

As all good fairy tales must start - this story started once upon a time…

Once upon a time, there was a new American Sweetheart in the form of the beautiful so called Shada Grey. She portrayed a version of herself to the cameras that was viewed as bubbly and perky, with a love for eclectic fashion. Those who knew the woman that would become this girl would say her acting skills were wanting for all she did was play herself on the silver screen - just with a wardrobe founded by and crafted by a studio and their stylists rather than the money from her brother’s pockets. The sister of famed and elusive artist, Jack Grey, who has shied away from the spot light after what was described as a ‘manic depressive episode’ by some - Shada Grey has captured the imagination of those who strive for the women of Golden Era Hollywood wrapped up in a pair of Louboutins and Prada. The Darling of America and the fairy tale princess having a fairy tale wedding.

However, there was another woman who has the capability of capturing the hearts of the country who will be standing five steps back from the princess on her wedding day.

…There was once another young woman with a wedding on the horizon. Joanna Beth Harvelle was getting married to the love of her life, an idealistic captain in the Marine’s called William Mark Reynolds. A pivotal moment in any woman’s life, and the same type of event that I have been lucky enough to be covering for the aforementioned Essaim/Grey wedding this year. But this story could not be further removed than that story - this story is of loss and love instead.

Miss Harvelle and Captain Reynolds were married from the court house, the only photo of their day a Polaroid taken by the bride’s mother on the steps outside. The bride wore a white dress from the bargain bins, and the pair spent their wedding night bidding one another farewell in preparation for the groom’s deployment two months later. In contrast, Miss Grey and Mr Essaim’s wedding is being held at an undisclosed location costing seven-figures, the bride will be wearing a custom Vera Wang and the whole wedding is being documented by not only print media such as myself but covered in depth by Miss Grey’s television show in a ten-episode special season and by most other media outlets.

But as fairy tales go - there must always be an early loss. Hansel & Gretel their abandonment, Rapunzel the pricking of a finger upon the spinning needle, and for our Cinderella was the loss of her love. Captain Reynolds was killed in action six months after his wedding, leaving a pregnant widow behind to receive his Purple Heart and put the pieces of her life back together. When speaking with Joanna, known affectionately by most as Jo, about that point in her life - the clear sorrow is still evident in her voice and the listing of her husband’s achievement. However those clouds passed quickly with the birth of their son, William Dean Harvelle who is nearly five at the moment of writing and has a love for frosting sugar cookies, and her ��other baby” as the blonde would say.

Metallicake has become an icon in the city over the four years of operation from the old warehouse building just off the beaten track. According to it’s owner, many souls have found their way to her door through word of mouth and the scent of baked goods on the air. One particular soul was, indeed, drawn there out of the rain and drawn back time and time again as anyone who has tried the baked goods from this modern day Cinderella’s kitchen would attest - coming back is inevitable. According to Ms Harvelle, her ties to the Wedding of the Year began almost three years ago when Jack Grey returned to her bakery and subsequently fell in love with the flour-coated princess.

Entering the building you will see exactly the impact of this diamond in the rough woman who carry’s a purple, bruised heart for the loss of a national hero. Ms Harvelle has drawn not only the eye but the artistry out of the most elusive and most revered artist of his time in the country to her walls among other things. Those who visit Metallicake are greeted with an ever changing mural designed, refined and painted painstakingly by the famed Mr Grey. From the photos provided by the baker herself, and a subsequent valuation by several esteemed art buyers - the walls of the bakery itself are worth more than the cost of the elaborate wedding the bakery will be producing a mammoth cake for and then some. The tattoo parlour next door, owned by a man known as the ‘Doctor Badass of Tattooing’ Ash Miles, shares equally in Ms Harvelle’s fortune with not only signed art work on display but also the unique privilege of being the only authorised tattoo artist of such artwork. This work, as well as his own, is on display not only in INKED magazine and this publication, but upon the very body of Ms Harvelle so far.

Being a muse and accomplished baker does not appear to be the extent of this Cinderella’s ambitions though. Listening to the way Ms Harvelle would speak of love and marriage - a self-proclaimed realist who expects little more from her life, supposedly - and her joy for both bride and groom to be, one cannot believe to suspects she’ll long be a widow rather than to take up the name almost as soon as American Sweetheart Shada Grey surrenders it.

When sent to the small converted warehouse to cover the baking and artistry connected to the creation of what will be an extravagance on-top of the already fantastically over designed and over quaffed wedding, the preparation was to hear about the difference between genoise and chiffon sponges, the merits of fondant and buttercream, and inevitable discussion about the endless creation of edible flowers. And that is what was covered, and yet so much more.

Ms Harvelle has a skill with words and with applying them to the work she does. She is an artist in her own right, but with shaping the perceptions of those around her. She can talk at length and display great skill with the multiple display cakes that were crafted and recorded in a special behind the scenes look hosted on Rolling Stones website at time of publication. However she can also draw others into her theology on the connection between her work and the world around her.

“People are like cakes,” Ms Harvelle said. “And everyone pairs with someone else perfectly. Take Shada for example - she’s so sunny and bright and vivacious. Full of spirit and life and carefree. She also has a little bite to her when protecting those she loves, but is simply so versatile and beloved it’s hard to remember she can be sweet and sour.” In this journalists time spent with the bride and bridal party so far, this interpretation appears to be true, though perhaps only just from the magic weaved by Ms Harvelle rather than any truth. “And Ian is so grounded and down to earth despite how he may appear, he too is versatile and always there for people. He’s a genuinely kind man, and they both work so well together. Sunshine and earthiness, but altogether sweet.” Ms Harvelle weaved her story together in her cake baking, and the slice of lemon chiffon cake with a blueberry and basil frosting that was served up as a demonstration of the couple was phenomenal not only in tasting, but in the craftsmanship of the story telling.

When asked about herself, the widow is far less vocal and considered. “Me? I’m just flour!” The lack of concern or thought evident, but the nature of her choice showing how pivotal her role in the creation of not only the physical cakes to be loved and adored, but the metaphorical cake of life and her underappreciated value is.

Watching Ms Harvelle work and seeing the creations coming out of her small kitchen, one would believe there was an army of bakers behind the scenes crafting the wide array of baked goods and speciality items which fill the counter of not only the storefront but several other establishments around the city. But instead, there is a one-woman powerhouse working diligently, day in and day out.

On the week I followed Ms Harvelle through her daily routine as she developed, trialed and presented the socialite couple with their wedding cake options, the true meaning of hard work was on display.

The days started before the sun rose three days out of five, and Ms Harvelle was always wide awake as we met at her bakery. From there I witnessed the whirlwind that was something out of a movie scene itself. Her world feels like a montage of beeping alarms, constant tray movements, and endlessly creaming butter and sugar. The tireless Cinderella toiling away that has no time for anything but baking, cleaning and yet sings as she works without a single mouse around to lend a hand, before closing shop as the sun would go down and she would head home before doing it all again.

One would be mistaken to think she had time for nothing else but the extravagant cake that would need to be presented at the end of the week, but life goes on.

A lengthy photoshoot for INKED magazine on one day, and a day’s shopping for dresses with the rest of the specifically chosen bridal party to reflect that ‘down to earth’ narrative of the wedding couple were somehow sandwiched in between the tireless work to create fondant ruffles, edible floral arrangements and all sorts in between for the discerning eye of America’s Sweetheart to dissect by week’s end.

And yet on top of these inconveniences - of which Ms Harvelle never had anything less than a smile and a warmth when speaking of completing these tasks for her friends and loved ones - she still has a life.

Her Prince Charming in the form of the aloof Mr Grey would visit the bakery each day to bid her well wishes, steal a kiss and perhaps walk her home to the brick townhouse Mr Grey bought twelve years ago and according to sources moved his soon-to-be fiancé and son into two years prior. Her role as a mother is still needing to be completed each day, and watching mother and son interact - there is no question that this Cinderella finds time to be both baker and mother to her fullest. And her role as bridesmaid and friend seems to be never ending either, with the beauty taking the bride out for lunches and always having time to fend off frenzied, worried phone calls and provide the soothing voice of reason among the socialite crowd on display regularly throughout the week.

Perhaps it is naïve to believe in fairy tales and magic in today’s age where romance is a fabricated story pumped out through television and movies, where women compete against one another for the so called Bachelor, and a woman playing herself had caught the imagination of the country.

And yet, in this story where the bride and groom met over a coffee in the small kitchen of a tiny bakery, perhaps the true Cinderella story does exist and the real Cinderella doesn’t need any saving by a prince - she’s happy with the flour, cocoa and soot on her face - but instead will bring her prince back to the fire with her.

---

Hollow. That was the word to describe how she’d felt with every word of that reading. Absolutely hollow.

What she’d expected after the confusing appearance of her parents to whisk away her boy and the unreservedly supportive hold that she’d been wrapped up in as Jack’d guided her through to the lounge and onto the couch to read the beautifully presented and laid out article on his laptop. The cover photo was beautiful - the gorgeous three layered mock up with the gentle sunlight catching the glimmering gold specks on the fondant photographed so beautifully - and as he’d brought the article up Jo hadn’t even read the title as she’d initially excitedly pointed at the embedded video at the top and focused on wanting to watch that before reading any silly words. Jack hadn’t stopped her, and had rubbed her shoulder and quietly reiterated how lovely her work looked and how amazing a baker she was and how lucky his sister was for her to work on the masterpiece for her and how well she discussed the techniques and design choices as they’d watched the video. That she had finally registered the title of the article halfway through the video below it changed the sweet taste of maple syrup still lingering in her mouth to something bitter tasting like bile as she smiled and nodded through the remaining minutes of the video before she couldn’t stop herself reading the article.

Hollow, and wide open. As if she was a pumpkin carved out and put on display. A cream puff full of air and such a flimsy shell of existence without the filling to stablise her if left in this condition. Like a meringue - fragile and likely to collapse in on herself if the oven door was opened too early.

That photo - her pregnant and haunted in the illfitting black dress shaking hands with the man who’d sent the other to war and brought him back to her in a coffin - was in there. The one she’d asked not to. Right beside a picture of her tugging on her new love’s scarf and their smiling and in love in her sacred kitchen space.

She’d felt torn open and like her skin had been peeled off and displayed for anyone and everyone with each cut into the private bubble she’d been living in broken open within the writer’s words. She hated it.

And worst of all, Jack’s hands had rubbed at her comfortingly, and he’d spoken gently that it wasn’t her fault for being trusting, and that he was sorry she had this happen to her, and that he loved her and supported her just made her feel all filled up with love and support all over again even as she was left open and empty he was there to comfort and helped to fill the void left behind by those black and white words. And she’d broken down in a way she hadn’t for years - she’d actually found herself crying at the fresh loss of that protective scab that had kept her intact all along now she had someone to let her deflate like a forgotten souffle.

Once she’d finally stopped crying - babbled words between the gasps as she’d tried to explain what she was crying over of ‘sorry’ and ‘so long ago’ and ‘not like that’ - Jo was surprised to see the love and concern pouring out of the other’s blue eyes as he watched her carefully, not at all guarded the way she’d expected at finding out about her hiding yet another big secret from him. Hiding her history yet again.

“Here,” His voice was soothing as he’d held out a tissue to her, the box moved to his knee as he continued to rub her back gently with his other hand. “It’s okay, Jo, it’s alright.”

“How can you say that?” She gasped the words out hoarsely, voice rough and tired from her crying. “I-”

“You did nothing, Jo, you didn’t do anything.”

“I lied-”

“Did I ever ask?” He asked gently as she was getting worked up again, hands fidgeting and picking at each other and brown eyes wide and panicked. Jack’s hands covered hers, holding her gently like she was something to be handled carefully. “I didn’t ask, you didn’t have to tell until you were ready. And I’m sorry that the choice was taken from you.”

“I shouldn’t’ve-”

“You’re an open heart, trusting person - it’s what’s so sweet and endearing about you and something I love so dearly, Jo. Don’t apologise for being you.”

“I...would’ve told you. Eventually.” She mumbled the words out, hands shaking even despite the comforting squeeze of his over hers. She would have. One day. Probably that mythical moment she’d thought about when they’d be curled up in bed and he’d have said something about their future and wanting life together and asking if she’d wanted to get married some day eventually, and she’d have told him the truth then and in much simpler words than the bullshit that the journalist had flourished her story with. She had felt that day approaching, but they hadn’t quite gotten to talking about the future further than plans for a vacation next year before Billy started school. “I… I can’t believe this- Oh fuck! What about Shada?!”

There was a second before Jo noticed the look on his face shift from concern into something closer to surprise for a moment, before his mouth twitched into that soft loving smile that made her stomach flip. “Shada’s okay. She was the one who was calling - she is… not happy with that asshole journalist.”

“Oh… Oh, should I step down?”

“What?”

“I’m ruinin’ the weddin’ - a distraction - should I step out-”

“Jo!” The smile she got then was practically blinding, tugging her in for a tight hug as Jack laughed gently. “Shada’s worried about you! She’s upset for you, not because of you. She’s already screaming about getting a new writer in and getting lawyers to sue or something if you want to. I mean, she’s thinking to for defamation for herself-”

“As she should!” Jo cried back, letting out an awkward giggle as she curled into the warmth of his chest. “That was so mean and wrong for what was said about her. That asshole-” Jo’s eyes blew wide as she thought about how nice and friendly the reporter had seemed, how he’d seemed to care what she had to say - that she’d been tricked and manipulated into telling her story when all she’d wanted was to make a good cake and share her love for her dark haired friend. She felt the sharp stab of betrayal in that, and shivered slightly to think that she’d have to meet with the reporter again sometime soon. He was due back to write about the flowers, and Shada’s dress, and so much more - the idea of facing him after such a humiliating manipulation made her stomach twist. “-oh I hope he’s fired! He should be! What is her manager doing? Does Bobby know? Oh, what about-”

“Jo, my love, it’s fine.” His voice was calming and soft as she’d started to work herself up again, breaths sharp and short and caught up on the edge of panic and mania filling her mind as she thought about just how much she’d misjudged and maybe ruined the whole of her dear friend’s special days. “Bobby’s already got the shows lawyers onto it, and Shada said her manager is already demanding a retraction of the article and it to be suppressed online until they can determine the legal ways forward-”

“Good!” She seethed quietly, feeling queasy and responsible and guilty all in one at how much the words written must had hurt the other woman to read. Every other sentence was a backhand compliment, a knife designed to dig and cut and hurt the poor girl, and that Jo’d been used to do that to her hurt too much to consider. She’d have to bake something as an apology as soon as her legs felt strong enough to support her weight. And something for Bobby. And the show team. And Ian and Ombre. And for Jack. The thought of her boyfriend brought her mind whirling into how nasty the reporter’s words, the focus on who Jack was and what he had been that had to have hurt too brought her into herself with a gasp; brown eyes wide and focused onto her boyfriend’s face with a distraught look. “Oh and you! You should sue too! For what he said ‘bout you-”

“Nothing written in there was wrong when it came to me, Jo.” Jack’s eyes were that darker blue, the shadowed look that always showed up when he was serious about whatever he was talking about. “I’ve got no issues with it about me.”

Jo shook her head, tucking into his chest with a sigh as she felt a shiver run down her spine. “It wasn’t- It said that we… that you were- that we’re going ta be-”

“I mean, I was hoping to ask on our anniversary next month, so if you can wait until then…”

She froze at his words - the warm, bemused tone rumbling in his chest she was pressed up against - and felt like that hollow feeling was suddenly gone as quick as it had arrived. Replaced with a stomach-flipping surge of happiness she hadn’t even felt the first time around, her whole body felt like it was on fire and her heart felt like it couldn’t be held in by her chest it was so full and light. Her head was spinning, and pulling back a little, she blinked in confusion as she looked back into the flushed but openly smiling face of the other. How could he be so open, so honest, especially to her when all she had ever done was hide things from him?

“Wh-what?”

His eyes lit up and the edges of his lips pulled up into an amused grin as his hands moved from her back to hold her cheeks, thumbs stroking over the top of her cheekbones gently. “Do you not want to wait til then?” His voice was quiet and she strained to hear him over the thudding of her heart filling her ears. Jack’s smile got softer as he shifted one hand back over her ear and into her hair gently. “Do you want me to ask now? Because I will. I’d ask in a heartbeat if you wanted me to, Jo. I’d ask it every day if that’s what you want or what it took.”

“You… Wait-” She paused a second, heart beating out of her chest and her eyes drinking him in as if she’d never really seen him before. Like she could finally see all the colors that made him whole - the blue of his eyes brighter, the pink of his lips more soft and kissable than ever, even the dark purple under his eyes from their late night movies and early morning starts - after having lived with some filter on. Living in a glass box to protect her from hurt again, and him from being cursed like all the others that had had her heart so far. Swallowing thickly, Jo blinked repeated a few times before shifting closer into his lap, prompting his other hand to drop around her waist and support her gently instead. Support her like he had ever since they’d become an us not two separate entities. There was a pause that he just looked at her, before Jo found herself leaning in closely and that thudding in her ears entirely disappearing into the background as she heard herself speak from her heart before her brain could stop her. “Will you marry me?”

That pause drew out longer - every tiny noise from the ticking of the clock on the wall to the buzz of the muted television to the muffled sound of the world moving outside without them was like thunder as they stayed in their quiet, frozen bubble - before there was a surge between them. Like a bolt of lightening sending energy into both of them had her lips smashed against his, and his hands gripping her tightly as she pulled him into her all the harsher.

That she’d asked and that he hadn’t answered didn’t matter, the fact was this was right in a way that it’d never been right for her before. This was what she’d been waiting for. This was who she’d been waiting for. She might not be a blushing bride like his sister, but she was who he’d been waiting for, and he was who she’d always meant to find. The safety and feeling of home and support she’d been missing even before she’d been left alone before, before she’d said her vows to a man she loved but more as idea than a man, before she’d thrown her roses on the coffin as a child. This was the support she’d been craving and needed - the love she’d searched everywhere for and then glassed herself off from when it didn’t show up when she wanted it. Even if it was a few years late.

---

Her hands were steady and forceful as she continued to roll the fondant thinner and thinner, to the longest roll it could before fluting it gently as she cut the thin strip in half and laid the ruffle down across the nearest baking tray with all the rest. These ruffles were the thinnest she'd ever made, and there was only six more to make before she'd have to start assembly. Or start the gentle paintwork of dusting the edges like an ancient book with gold dust. Or maybe she would do a third crumb coat on the cakes. Just to make sure.

Jo's mind was working seven steps ahead of herself and she had to pause at the trembling in her fingers. This was the most important cake she'd ever made. It had to be perfect.

Nervously working on the next set of ruffles, she felt herself having to pause and try the deep breathing exercises her therapist had taught her months ago. The exercises to calm her down from spiralling into an absolute destructive frenzy. She'd been struggling with keeping herself balanced for months now, ever since that article shook her core, and she was so thankful she had the support around her to work her way through it.

The weeks following that article had been some of the hardest of her life but nothing except for her seemed to be changed. Nobody except for her few newest friends had learned anything they didn't already know. And aside from a bone crushing hug from Shada every time they met for a month, and the gentle coaxing from Jack to remember everything was fine, nothing changed aside from her. Her whole world had tilted the wrong way but no one else seemed to notice it.

It had taken up until the week of crafting the extravagant and beautiful wedding cake for how hard she was struggling to really hit her. The only time she felt in control of herself and happy that week being the long hours she spent in the bakery - perfecting batches upon batches of buttercream and the fillings for the cake, the sheets upon sheets of cake baked and cut to an unusual and beautiful geometric diamond rather than the traditional circle, the hours after hours of sugar work in vibrant purples bad shimmering golds and silvers along with the delicate edible flowers to match the bride's overflowing bouquet. That week she'd devoted more time than ever to her work and it was the only times she felt happy and normal and like herself didn't really sink in until the night before the wedding.

Jack had been waiting up when she'd finally decided it was done and got home at two in the morning despite having to be up in three hours to start the bridal party work. He'd held her close and been all things supportive, and that she'd cried all three remaining hours and somehow functioned and floated happily beside her future sister-in-law the whole day through was probably more to do with running on fumes than her genuine excitement she had for the beautiful bride and her husband. It was probably more to do with the appointment booked for the following week for her to finally talk to someone and start working through her issues instead of hiding from them.

It was how she'd found herself reflecting on how important that cake had been for her - it had represented all of her guilt over her life becoming something new all again, her desire to please and her want to be part of something bigger than just her and her boy again - and the unexpected amount of stress that had come along with the entire process that was how she’d been convinced to speak to someone. Seeing her work splashed over news sites for weeks, and the months leading up to her sister-in-law’s wedding from that horrible article all the way through that while not always a focused part of the story, that her life was splashed across the media and her motives dissected as much as her work was had sent her spiralling in need of help. That her fiance was beside her the whole time - praising her work, encouraging her and protecting her and her son from the worst of it - helped soften the blow that she wasn’t as strong as she’d always made out to be. And that despite pouring every bit of love she had into that beautiful purple wedding cake had been enough to keep her solid until it had been delivered.

Placing the last of the delicate ruffles she’d made to the side, Jo pulled a ball of sunshine yellow fondant towards herself to work on instead. The next crumb coat could wait. Instead, she rolled that fondant out into thin strips again - however rather than rolling the edges thinner and thinner until they fluted into soft ribbons, the baker collected the delicate piece of lace she’d collected from the trimming of her dress and pressed it flush against the fondant. Rolling over the fabric and then peeling it gently off each strip of fondant, the beautiful lace design embossed into the yellow sugar confection to mimic what she would be wearing the next day, before moving each stripe of fondant onto another baking tray to be stored away until they were needed later. It was a rhythm, one she was used to, and working slowly she kept up her calming breaths as she tried to sink into the pattern. It was just any other cake, after all.

Where she’d poured so much thought and weeks of consideration into balancing the meaning of ingredients, the personalities of the bride and groom, and the early summer vibes of the wedding into the beautifully tiered cake she eventually crafted for Shada and Ian’s wedding - the creation she was making now was somehow so much less thoughtful in her mind. She didn’t spend hours testing different cake types and deciding on the main flavors before deciding on something that perfectly matched like berries and lemons - she knew it would be a chocolate cake from the moment she’d even tried to consider what to make, and she’d known that there would be a hazelnut filling based off of the brownies her love begged her to make the most. She didn’t spend her time crafting different decorations trying to balance the extravagance of the event, the importance of those getting married and to make something both timeless, classic and modern and fashion forward - she knew that it would be a simple white cake with minimal color but the buttercup yellow and gold to balance the classic, stark white elements. She didn’t worry about trying again and again to push the extremes of what she could achieve, even as that had excited and thrilled her to surprise everyone with such a decadent and beautiful creation unlike any other - she knew the small single tiered cake would be more than enough for her loved ones, and there was no one she needed to impress or thrill more.

The sound of an alarm brought her out of her thinking as she finished the last few yellow fondant decorations, turning to pull the brownies out of the oven and replace them with the waiting tray of cupcakes. The baking of all the other treats that she intended to fill the small trestle table for desserts with the next day was in itself another thing entirely - delicate tiny pastries with perfectly presented lemon tarts and tiny chocolate brownies, cream puffs and mille-feuille, chocolate eclairs and marzipan treats, treacle tarts and miniature cherry pies - each carefully selected and decided upon based on their family and friends favorite treats.

But when she pictured the table in her mind it was with the simple white cake on it’s pedestal surrounded by a bounty of treats and the tiny bouquets of baby's breath that would tie into her bridal bouquet and the flowers that Billy would throw before her and would be tucked into the lapel of her love’s jacket as they said vows she believed in again now. It was full circle and fully ready - the image of a day unfolding as she moved onto the final little dessert decorating, that she’d never had before. The day she’d dreamed about that never happened the last time, that she didn’t fantasise about before like she was now, the way she wanted every little step to be just so where before she’d never pictured herself walking down an aisle, and exchanging vows, and wearing white, and holding flowers, and staring into loving eyes, and making promises she fully intended to keep, and exchanging rings that she wouldn’t then take off, and celebrating with everyone she cared about not sharing a pepperoni pizza and counting down days on a calendar, and knowing that Sunday morning she’d wake up happy and fulfilled and the person she’d not yet become the last time, the person she hadn’t realised she was meant to be. It was her dreams coming true for once. And her being her own dream.

---

#au stories #bakery au #jopov

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smells-like-ink-and-fire · 4 years

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Innocence died screaming, honey I should know

Here’s the thing: For all his talk of Gotham being a life-sucking, happiness draining shithole, leaving it had never been truly an option on Jason’s mind. It was his shithole of a city goddammit, the grim dirt streets he would die on. It was his home, the blood on his veins. This city had its claws deep into him, and leaving, especially leaving never to return, had been simply impossible, did not compute to him.

Especially now, that Jason was getting along better with the Bats these days. He still didn’t, and never would agree with Bruce regarding his no-killing rule. But things were better, or at least he thought they were. His presence was expected and even accepted. There were some awkwardness and silent nobody knew how to fill, but there were also jokes and eating junk food together after patrol. Sure, there were a lot of snippy comments but he made those too, gave as good as he got, and Bruce still didn’t quite trust him, not to the extent he did with the other, though that was just a given, he had made peace with it, he still killed, after all, a little suspicion was an acceptable price to pay for it.

Self-righteous, holier than thou bat.

Still, there was an uneasiness on his chest whenever the pointed looks got too much when they would start questioning his actions and his plans like he hadn’t been trained by the world's greatest detective like the rest of them and League of Shadows on top of that. Forgetting that Jason had effectively taken control of the East End in less than two months, and without any of them noticing.

The good parts didn’t lessen the rage-hurt out when Barbara sneered at him, acting like he couldn’t be trusted in the field, like the fact he had issues, that he cared about the victims because he had been one made him incapable of being rational, turned him into something that was eternally compromised. Like he was a mindless raging monster, who would shoot to kill at mere provocation.

He had been, once, fresh out of those green waters, traumatized, angry, afraid, and replaced. He had been a child, too, didn’t that count for something?

Their veiled accusations of insanity, that he had a problem, that needed to be handled like he was a fucking dog, the angry gremlin claims that he was unhinged and the only reason that they kept him around was to keep an eye on him, it all made Jason feel queasy, made him feel less than human.

It made him wonder how truly welcome he was. Was he welcome or they were just trying to appease their guilt and keep a loose cannon from the streets?

But there were undoubtedly good things too. Moments that made it worth it. His relationship with Steph and Duke, and surprisingly, Replacement was getting better, even though the first two were not around as much as he would like. The nights they had spent chewing off some of the undoubtedly brilliant but assholes teachers while demolishing mountains of homework had been fun, and Replacement-Tim was quite a sass master, now only if he could convince the kid to take a step back from WE so that he wouldn’t have a heart attack before he could drink legally.

Replacement, however, was why he was here. Here being diner on the border of the Bowery and Robinsonville, The Raging Duck, a new place that Golden Boy wanted to try, make a family bonding experience out of it, Jason was sure. Replacement had twisted his way around with words in a shape that made it impossible for him not to come. His saving grace was that Jason had already made clear that he couldn’t stay long, under the pretext of having to verify that month payments collection from the Bowery.

Which was goddammed good thing because this whole outing had been a mistake. The last couple weeks had been rough, with the stress of studying and writing applications for his master degree, the couple of murders that almost led to a gang war between the Falcone and the Russians, plus a decoy staged by the Riddler, as his newest scape plan, that had taken too long to crack leading to an accident that had killed three people and would have killed a lot more if Jason hadn’t said fuck and put bullet holes on some goons heads. This in turn led to an inevitable argument because of Batman's continuous incapacity to see the necessity of his actions while on some level recognizing that was the only poss0ible decision meant that tension had been higher than usual.

Therefore, putting everybody in a room together was definitely not the best idea, Dickie! The last ten minutes certainly proved so, what had started as an easy-going conversation about their early on mishaps of the field, which included a hefty number of stories where the main theme was “And then I said Fuck Batman – With varying degrees of success” that had started as a split-second change of subject in order to avoid a fight breaking out, had turned into passive-aggressive attacking Jason. The worst part was that Jason wasn’t even sure they were doing on purpose.

Did the even realize he was sitting right next to them? Or was he just a ghost?

“… and then the fantastic Robin fell three stores down only to be needed to be saved by the incredible Spoiler! So, listen to me kids, if you’re going to say fuck Batman you should at least be sure there is something to break your fall before you jump.” - Steph finished the story with a flourish, going back to her waffles.

“That was a level of stupidity that I wasn’t aware that you were capable of Replacement. Really, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.

“Please, as if you weren’t the first one to ignore an order just to fuck with B, Jason. There’s a list. The Incident with the Falcone. Killer Crock latest scape. The entire shit show that was last week. – Tim shot back, mulish, poking at his fries

And every single of those missions was a raging success.

“Which is the one involving Babs, back when she was still BG, you know the one she always mentions, because I don’t know what you did dude but she’s still pissed at you for it.”

“Oh, I know! Bruce forced them to work together on that one, it was a drug-smuggling operation that involved kids. Jason jumped in instead of waiting for her signal. Needless to say, it did not end up well. Babs was so very pissed.”

Yeah for the assholes that thought using kids as drug mules was a good idea. BG was just made the street rat had a better plan than her

“Is that why warehouse 25F is a gory, burned-out mess?”

“Nah, that came later, during that corruption case that nearly put the Comish in the hospital. Or maybe it was the one involving that Nazi Arts dealer?”

“Is there a difference? They always end up in unnecessary explosions. Todd’s need for dramatics and overuse of force are well documented”

Because you can talk about overuse of force, demon spawn.

“Robin. Less explosions. Trying to help. Hurt.”

“Yeah, he was trying to help Cass, nobody is denying that the thing is Jason desire to be a little shit and prove Batman wrong is way stronger than his drive to help people, and even though there were far less explosions back then, both he and innocent people have gotten hurt.”

How you’d know? You weren’t around back then Dickface.

“So, we can agree that it’s basically a Pavlovian response for him at this point. Your stubbornness and desire to say Fuck Batman no matter the consequences have been able to surpass death Jason, and if that it’s not a feat, I don’t know what is. Congratulations, really!” – Steph summarized.

He had been holding up fine until that point but he just didn’t have the strength to it anymore, every word out it Tim's mouth felt like the blow of crowbar shattering his ribs, chocking on his own blood because a Batarang slashed his throat. He felt faint. He felt dangerously close to crying.

“I have to go.” – Jason got out of his chair.

“Jason…” – The pitying and yet reproachful note on Dick’s voice made his skin crawl.

“I said I couldn’t stay very long. Some of us have stuff to do. You know criminal empires to run, places to blow up, kneecaps to shoot.” – He doped a twenties bill on the table.

“Todd. Cease being childish. Just because you are unable to accept your failures, and the fact that you were incompetent and arrogant enough to be captured by an enemy does not mean you should incapable of accepting constructive criticism.”

“Not being childish gremlin. I do have a criminal empire to run. And I do take constructive criticism, preferably from people who know what the hell they are talking about. You know people that are more than the “blood sons” of people that are greater than themselves. Noise midgets, not so much. Bye.” – Jason out of the dinner before any of them can reply.

See you never again.

He doesn’t know how he gets back to his closest safe house. It’s a reasonably good one. He likes this one. He focusses on the things he likes. Hardwood floor. The light green paint. On the things, he doesn’t. The shitty heating. The fact that the cabinets doors don’t shut all the way.

Breaths. Slowly. In and Out. Counts to three hundred. Breaths again.

The tears still prickle on his eyes. His chest feels hollow. His throat is dry. He doesn’t have the strength to move from where he’s sat on the floor, his back against the door. Going a few rounds with Deathstroke had hurt less. It certainly never made him want to crawl under his bed and stay there until the world forget he existed. Of course, Slade had also never blamed for his own death.

Even though his own father had. Reckless, overly aggressive, incapable of following orders, loud-mouthed Robin that got what he deserved, Bruce had said. Maybe not to his face but he had said it. Then again it had been his fault, hadn’t it?

He takes a few more breaths, tries to push his emotions back, locking them deep, and walks to the fridge, pours himself a glass of water. Drinks it. His mind goes back to the conversation. The glass shatters in his hand.

“Oh, fuck!”

He goes to the sink, to clean his hands and throws the broken glass into the trash. Lucky there were only some minor cuts that don’t need stitches even if they hurt like a bitch.

Take that universe!

Still, he wraps them in bandages since he doesn’t fancy cleaning blood out of his sheets. Sleep, however, doesn’t come easily that night, and the time he doesn’t spend tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position to follow to try to fall back asleep in, he spends waking up from dreams that leave him feeling like he’s constantly falling, sharp terror waking him each and every time.

There is no rest for the wicked though, and so he takes off by late morning and goes to check o on the rest of the gang, makes sure Antony is running things smoothly. All in all, it’s pretty boring, with enough paperwork to make a bonfire, but it does the job of taking his mind out the things for a while. Patrol is uneventful, which is a welcome respite, and Jason doesn’t do much more than stop a few muggings and beating up some creeps.

During that time, he keeps an ear out for the bats, especially Dick since he’s not anywhere near the mood to listen to another of the boy wonder lectures about how “Damian is just a child; you shouldn’t take what he says seriously”, especially those came with the addition of being delivered in that tone that screamed, “even though he’s right”. But he must have gone back to his turf because he sees no hair nor hide of him or any of the others.

The next two nights are very much a repetition of that first one, with little sleep and little action, so much so that a paranoid and exhausted part of him gets a bit terrified and so he ends up calling Roy just to hear the genius talk about whatever crazy project he’s been working on lately. If the redhead has any idea why Jason is calling him at four in the morning, he doesn’t comment on it and simply talks until his friend's breath has even out.

This way when the sun comes up the next day, Jason drags himself out of bed and heads straight to the shower, the cold water helps ground him back into his body. Still feeling like shit but at least knowing the difference between dream and reality he eats his breakfast while checking his messages and it’s more than a little bit shocked to see a text from Bruce asking, as in there is an actual please in it if they can talk about a possible case with a few crossed wires. There’s even an invitation to stay for dinner alongside with it, which makes him wonder if Bruce hit his head a little too hard the other day, or if Alfred finally made good on his promise of finding a drug that made him less emotionally stunned.

No matter the cause, the message leaves him hopeful enough that he answers with a yeah, I’ll be there by five.

He arrives at the Manor door fifteen minutes past five, just in case, greeting Alfred with a smile that the old butler easily returns. They make some small talk as the older man demands him to at least drink a cup of tea before heading down. Still, they part at the entrance of the cave and Jason takes those final steps alone.

“Sup, old man?”

“Jason.” – Bruce answers, his back turned, typing at the bat computer, probably filling some reports.

“C’mon B, you’re the one who called me unless of course, you somehow have been possessed and that please was you asking for help, in which case, give me a second and let me call the Martian Manhunter, you gotta give a bit more of information.” – Jason kept his gaze on Bruce’s back, his breath steady, he was not rambling thank you very much!

“There been some talk about an escort service in Diamond District that works as a front from money laundering. I think you might know some of the girls.”

“Little bit out of my way. Maybe you should check with Cat.”

Bruce’s eyes were shining, and the line of his mouth meant that he was finding it funny and Jason was filed to the brim with a wave of warmth and nostalgia. It made him feel like a kid again, it made him like Robin again, like magic.

“Maybe we should.”

“Oh gross! Let’s go back to the ever-existing cases of corruption and gross old man please?”

“Isabella McGarvey”

“Know the surname. Any relation to Ophelia McGarvey?”

"Her older sister I believe, records show that she moved from the East Side two years ago but didn’t take her sister with her because she was a minor…"

Most of the afternoon passed that way. With the Batman and the Red Hood checking financial records, discussing disappearances and police reports in an amiable tone, full of teasing. It was a welcome change of pace being the one providing the answers to all-knowing Batman for once. So, he took his time explaining the inner workings and the shady dealings of the Alley, preening at the attention and the approval, something he would deny until his second dying day.

Perhaps the only dark spot in the otherwise bright day was the fact that Jason kept purposely having to avoid looking at the southeast corner of the cave, at the glass cage that seemed to hover over them.

Refusing to acknowledge that some part of Bruce would always believe he was dead

“There maybe be a loose end might be worth exploiting but I don’t know how long that window would be open: There was a shooting, a few days ago, near the Bowery and Robinsonville, no cameras, three dead, the assailant left no evidence behind.”

“Don’t know what to tell you Bats, last time I was there I was with your kids, didn’t hear anything, neither did mine. I mean, I could ask but this is Gotham, murders are pretty much the norm. Unless those guys are part of something bigger, I got you nothing.” - Jason shrugged, already calculating the possibilities of why this is relevant and coming out with nothing.

Damn all-knowing paranoid bat.

“They were. Trafficking ring. Middleman.”

“There is no trafficking ring in the Alley”.

Of that he’s certain.

“There is not. Because those men were killed before they could take anyone. But they were known for it, and they were asking the sort of questions that could ping on your radar.”

“Well, I haven’t heard anything. I’ll make sure to pay more attention, update some protocols.” – Jason answered, already planning to investigate it.

If they were acting as a middleman for someone roaming around then that someone would send more to scoop the territory out and he would be prepared when they came, regardless of what else could be there. There were no trafficking rings in Alley.

“Or maybe you did and decided to take care of it your own terms”

The abruptness of the question was so earth-shattering that he took a few steps back to regain his balance.

“Jesus Christ Bruce if are gonna accuse me of murder you could at least have the decency of start with that. No, I did not kill them. If any of mine did I haven’t heard of it. But as far as I’m concerned is no great loss.” - He succeeds at sounding nonchalant and enraged, hiding the fact that the question felt like a bucket of water, leaving his cold and shaking.

So, this is why Bruce actually called, so he could question Jason about his latest failure, his latest disappointment in Bruce’s eyes. Of course, it was, and he was a fool for ever thinking otherwise. For letting himself hope that Bruce was trying, that he wanted to rekindle the relationship they had when Jason still wore those green panties.

“Where were you at 2:30 in the morning, three nights ago?”

“What?”

Please god, everything but this. I can’t do this again

“At the time of the murder, where were you?

“In a dinner with your kids.” – Jason’s voice was nothing more than a whisper as if all the air had been pushed out of his lungs.

Why you don’t believe me? Why you don’t trust me?

“Damian said you left early, earlier than that, because he got home at 3:00. It takes at least half an hour to get here from there.

“Safehouse a few blocks away, then. Sleeping. Bruce, please”. – Jason was begging now, voice raw and full of hurt.

“Can you prove that?”

"The hell is wrong with you?!? I already told you: I. DID. NOT. KILL. THEM. When have I ever not taken credit for the people I’ve killed?"

“What’s going on?”

And of course, because his luck could not be worse, that was the Perfect Grayson coming down the stairs. He could feel the headache forming behind his eyes. He did not want to deal with this shit right now.

Was it too much to ask for the ground swallow him whole?

“Nothing! Bruce’s just spent the last five minutes pointlessly accusing of murder! Can you get the fuck out so we can continue discussing it?”

“You were near the scene of the crime, you have a motive, the means, and a history.”

“Wait you killed someone?”

“No! Keep up, Bruce is just being a dick, you know like you usually are.”

“Is a valid concern”

“Is a piece of shit that is what it is!”

“Can someone please explain?”

“Bruce thinks I killed three people after I left the dinner the other day.”

That what you did after you left? It’s that what you meant by shooting kneecaps? Jay… I know that you were angry but this…

“Jesus Fucking Christ Didn’t I just say its bullshit?”

“You said that?”

“It was a joke”

“You have motive, means, no alibi and now your brother is telling me that you left because you needed to shoot someone. What do you want me to believe?”

“THAT I WOULDN’T LIE ABOUT IT!”

“If you were planning only to main them, if your anger got the better out you, as it has before if you did it out impulse, and is trying yo hide it.”

“You know what Bruce? You’ve already made up your mind so I will do us all a favor and get myself out. You can’t trust me? Well, I can’t trust you. From now on there will be no bats at the East End. If you are seen, you will be shot. That’s how trigger happy I fucking am!”

He pushed passed Dick and Bruce, the world was tingled with pit green glow, his ears were roaring, no sound, only rage, and loss. Every step he took was calculated, his breath was short, measured. A of violence ready to blow up at the mere provocation held together only by the barest threads of sanity and humanity and the training Ducra had given him. Roy’s voice babbling at him. Kori’s booming laughter. Kyle ridiculous art. Donna’s everlasting sass and warmth.

Somehow, someway he made home without turning Gotham into a bloodbath, and the relative he felt at activating the security protocol was fastly overtaken by fear. He hadn’t had an attack like that in over three months. Hadn’t let the Pit burning so strong in his veins in so long. Hadn’t felt that disconnection to reality since his early days out of the Pit.

Just the idea of what could have happened in case he lost control made Jason grab the nearest bucket and puke. He stayed there, pressing the palm of hinds to his eyes, heaving.

It didn’t matter, because it didn’t happen.

His phone rang, and if it was anybody else calling, he let go straight to voicemail, but it was Talia’s ringtone and she didn't call jus for kicks, so he presses answer.

“If I told you I didn’t kill a man would you believe me?” – Jason blurts out before he can stop himself, red coloring his cheeks as he realizes what he just said, cursing himself for his stupidity.

“Of course. Why would…I see.” – Talia’s face goes from neutral to confusion and finally anger in a matter of seconds. – “Your father does not know you at all Habibi, and that, rest assured, is entirely his fault. He’s too caught up in the image he made of you to be able to see you as truly are.”

“Batman being a stunned idiot, who can look past his own reasoning of the world? What an earthshattering idea T! – Jason says sarcastically trying to cover up his earlier emotional outburst. - Anyway, got a reason for calling?

“Do not play coy with me, Jason, it’s unbecoming. Regardless, I do not believe Gotham has done you good. Moreover, I do not believe your father's actions towards you have been in any way helpful to your recovery and growth.”

“What are you? My therapist?”

“I would not be against for you to see one, but I would not force you either. Your choices, as always, must be your own. Besides is my understanding that to be effective therapy must also involve privacy. Another thing that its unlikely to come by if you are to remain here.

“Gotham needs me. The Alley needs me, God knows the Bat can’t handle this shit, they don’t care and even if they did the Alley would never trust them” – It wasn’t as much a rebuttal as it was an excuse

“They do, but you are of no use to them if you are constantly emotionally compromised by the rash and thoughtless actions of those who do not understand you and do not seek to. Loyalty is a gift that must be not be given lightly and they make ill use of yours while reaping the benefits of it. Perhaps it’s time for them to learn how to much you do for them. The absence does make the heart grow fonder.”

“You’re telling me to leave.”

“I’m telling take a step back. You’ve done tremendous work, but there’s more to you then violence. The petty criminals and drug dealers and the pimps are all properly terrified, your minions are capable enough that they can keep your operation running without your direct involvement. Rest. Recover. Come back when you are ready. Besides, you do have your master’s degree to consider, don’t you?” - Jason blushed, Talia wasn’t one to give compliments that she didn’t mean, and she did have a point, but…

But what? What did he truly have here? It had taken less than ten minutes for Dick convince Bruce, based on nothing more than a few throw away words Jason had said when he was angry and hurting, that Jason had killed a man and once that decision had been made no amount of evidence would make Bruce turn around in his favor. The others probably already knew what had happened and just as likely had decided to stay away from him from now on. After all, if he couldn’t take a little teasing without blasting someone’s brains out then he was certainly no better than the crazies in Arkham, to them.

What Talia was offering has the peace of taking a walk without being judged by the path he chooses to walk on, let the dust stele until bygones were bygones and he could look at Dick’s- Holier-Than-Thou face without breaking every single bone in it.

What did he have to lose that he couldn’t take back later on?

“You do realize that this will take quite a bit of work and resources, right? – Jason could almost see that pleased little smile of hers spread on Talia’s face.

“You do realize who you are speaking with don’t you Habibi? Let’s get to work.

#first chapter #Criminal Minds #Jason Todd #fanfic #Im so nervous #Go check on AO3'#Im sorry for the delay #Spoiler: Jason is a Sad Boy in this #But he'll get better #Xover #Spencer Reid shows up in the next chapter #Worry not #im very proud of myself #ive written

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sqoiler · 5 years

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spoiler: into the stephanie-verse

Lex Luthor made a multiverse machine, in order to mine Kryptonite from other dimensions. It was kinda a good idea, except the machine was faulty, and kept dragging other stuff from the multiverse into Lex’s earth as well.

The League was dispatched to deal with the alternate versions of themselves that were brought into their Earth. Before he left, Batman assigned everyone in Gotham to guard the city from the various monsters and Rogues who roamed the city.

Spoiler had just finished a fight with a female version of Oswald Cobblepot and was headed to Nightwing to help him deal with a pair of mischievous twins, when the air in front of her opened up and a dark shaped tumbled through. Spoiler grabbed her bo-staff and dropped into a crouch, wary.

The shape sat up, and Spoiler absorbed the dark cape and pointy ears, the purple flashes on the suit, and the golden curls tumbling down her back.

Spoiler met her own eyes.

“Shit,” the other girl said, and she stood, brushing off her knees. Spoiler lowered her bo-staff and straightened, looking at herself curiously. “Did you pull me here?”

“No,” Spoiler said. “Lex Luthor made a machine….”

“Say no more,” the other girl said, and Spoiler noticed a yellow bat emblazoned on her chest. Her mouth fell open.

“Batgirl?” she gasped. She vaguely recognized the suit from the images of the other timeline that she’d seen, months ago.

“Yeah,” Batgirl said. “And you’re Spoiler. I haven’t been Spoiler in years, but you make it work. I like the half-mask, it’s nice.”

“Thanks,” Spoiler said, feeling a little ridiculous. “Sorry, I’ve never met an alternate version of myself before.”

“Me neither,” Batgirl admitted. “Although you always hear about it, don’t you.”

“Yeah,” Spoiler agreed. This was seriously surreal. Seeing herself--same height, a little longer hair, but standing so confidently? Spoiler blinked and told herself not to compare. They were different, after all. “So, Batgirl, huh? How’d...how’d you land that?”

“Cass gave it to me,” Batgirl said, shrugging. “When B died. But he’s back now, don’t worry.”

“Huh,” Spoiler said, and she remembered the mentions of Cass as Batgirl, too. “So where’s Babs, then?”

“You mean Babs is still Batgirl in your universe?” Batgirl asked, eyes wide. “This universe?” She gestured around them. Spoiler nodded.

“Yeah, nobody else has ever been Batgirl,” Spoiler said.

“That’s so fucking weird,” Batgirl said. “Babs hasn’t been Batgirl since before I started out, and that was like five years ago. You mean she didn’t get shot?”

“She did, but there was an implant,” Spoiler said. “So she’s better.”

“Wow. That’s great but--how do you survive without Oracle?” Batgirl asked. “I want my universe back.”

Spoiler agreed with her, and wondered how to put her back. Should she take her to Batman? Hm. For all the multiverse shenanigans she’d heard about, she really didn’t know how to deal with them, what the protocol was.

“Let’s go find Drake,” Spoiler said. “He just got back from a multiverse adventure.”

“Drake? Like the rapper?”

“No, like Tim. My boyfriend? It’s his new code name.”

“Tim picked his own fucking last name? That’s so stupid,” Batgirl said, and although Spoiler agreed, she didn’t say that. Spoiler checked her trackers, and found that Drake was across the city. She got out her grapple, and Batgirl did the same.

“Wait,” Batgirl called a minute later, when they were already in the air. They landed on the roof of the next building and Spoiler turned to her expectantly. “Did you say that he’s your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Spoiler said. “Is he not?”

“Not since like, middle school!” Batgirl cried, and Spoiler rolled her eyes.

“We don’t live in the same universe,” she reminded her. “Our Tims are probably totally different.”

“Yeah, right,” Batgirl said, and then there was a flash of purple light and Spoiler turned to face it. Two people appeared. One of them was in a purple bodysuit with a lightning bolt emblazoned on the chest, blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail. The other was wearing fishnet tights and a leather jacket, an armored purple unitard under the jacket and a skirt over that. Her blonde hair was long, nearly to her elbows, and free-flowing. The new pair blinked at Spoiler and Batgirl.

“Holyfuckthat’susbutBats,” the girl with the lightning bolts said, her words tipping over each other, and Spoiler said, “Before today, I’d never been involved in multiverse shenanigans, and now this!”

She gestured at the duo.

“I’m Dart,” the speedster-Steph said, holding out a hand. Spoiler shook it, dumbfounded.

“I’m Canary,” the other Steph said. “Violet Canary, but generally they just call me Canary.”

“Like Red and Gold Canaries,” Dart said gleefully.

“....No,” Canary said. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Black Canary’s partners,” Dart said, rolling her eyes. “Cass and Jason.”

“Cass and Jason are Bats,” Batgirl said. “Not Canaries.”

“Not in my world,” Dart said. “What, in your universe is everyone a Bat?”

“Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Damian, Babs, Duke,” Spoiler rattled off.

“Duke?” Batgirl asked.

“Yeah, none of those people are Bats in my world,” Dart said. “Dick’s a Super, Cass and Jason are Canaries, Damian’s a Lantern, Tim’s a Martian, Duke’s a Wonder, and Babs is Aquagirl. Or, well, she used to be, before the accident.”

“See?” Batgirl demanded, gesturing at Spoiler.

“I didn’t give her the implant!” Spoiler said. “It happened before I even started crime-fighting!”

“She’s not Oracle in your universe?” Canary asked, looking wildly startled. Spoiler threw her hands up.

“Sorry that you guys landed in a garbage universe, I guess,” she said, and Dart patted her shoulder.

“So this is your place, huh? Kinda nice,” she said. “You know, I’ve never really been in Gotham before? Not since I moved away, anyway.”

“Yeah, how the fuck are you a speedster?” Canary asked. “I’m not even a meta, and my job depends on me having superpowers.”

“I was going to ask the same question,” Batgirl said.

“I mean, basically the same way everyone else did,” Dart said. “I made Wally tell me how he did it, who made Barry tell him how he did it, who made Jay tell him how he did it. And, uh, the rest is history.”

“But why were you with Wally--? Never mind,” Spoiler said. “We really need to find Drake.”

At Dart and Canary’s confused looks, Batgirl said in a loud whisper, “As in Tim. That’s his new codename. And yeah, we know it’s stupid.”

“Thank you, Batgirl,” Spoiler said loudly. “Let’s just go, yeah?”

“Won’t Batman snipe me?” Dart asked, and Canary asked Batgirl for a spare grapple.

“He’s out of town,” Spoiler said. “Just follow us.”

“Sure thing,” Dart said. “Wait, what’s your codename?”

“Spoiler,” Spoiler said. “You mean you were never…?”

“I used to be Kid Flash, but never ‘Spoiler’, whoever that is,” Dart said. “Sorry.”

“Even I was Spoiler, and I’m not even a Bat,” Canary said, and Dart said, “Okay, we get it, I’m a weirdo among Stephanies. Let’s go.”

They went, and Spoiler wondered if the other Bats were also dealing with themselves. She was leading the way, which was weird, because she never led any ways. Maybe if it was just her and Tim, or something.

Below her, Spoiler caught sight of a swarm of Clayfaces, and she had to stop. She yelled to the others to help her, and they dropped into the alley below.

Fighting with only herself as backup was weird, Spoiler thought. Batgirl threw batarangs that had stuff inside them. Dart sped around confusing the Clayfaces and Spoiler brought her bo-staff down hard on one, but it just sloshed through his arm. Oops.

“Cover your ears!” Canary yelled, and she threw a little device at a Clayface. It screamed, a loud noise that was what Spoiler assumed the Canary Cry sounded like. The Clayfaces barely reacted.

From above, a dark shape descended. Spoiler could’ve cried in relief, even though she was sure it wasn’t her own Batman.

Batman threw a device at a Clayface, which sent out some sort of signal that froze all the Clayfaces that weren’t already frozen by Batgirl’s batarangs. Icearangs? Whatever.

Quick work was made of the Clayfaces, and then Batman led the Stephs back into the air.

“You saved us!” Dart said.

“Yes,” Batman said. Spoiler inspected their new friend. This Batman was shorter than Bruce, and the bat across her chest was purple. The eyes on the cowl glowed with purple light, but it was still unmistakably Batman. She had on purple lipstick, and Spoiler spotted a scar near her mouth. She knew who this was.

“Holy shit,” Spoiler breathed, and beside her, the others seemed to come to the same conclusion. “You’re me.”

“I would argue that I’m me,” Batman said, her mouth twisting into a smirk. “But yes, I am another Stephanie Wayne.”

“Wayne?” Spoiler and Batgirl cried at the same time.

“Fuck,” Dart said. “If that isn’t a weird last name to think of me having.”

“It makes sense that circumstances would differ,” Canary said. “Although in my universe, I was never truly a Bat.”

“But Wayne?” Spoiler said, waving her hands.

“Bruce actually adopted you?” Batgirl asked.

“No,” Batman said. “He left a portion of the estate to me in his will, and after I took up the mantle I changed my last name.”

“What the fuck,” Spoiler said, and Batgirl seemed of the same mind.

“Why are you panicking? It’s not that weird,” Dart said. “And I mean, clearly you all aren’t Stephanie Allen.”

“Allen?” Batgirl repeated, her voice an octave higher.

“Sweet Jesus,” Batman said, and Spoiler pushed that image aside for examining at a later time. “The pair of you never shed ‘Brown’, didn’t you.”

“No!” Spoiler cried.

“I’ve never even thought that was an option!” Batgirl said, sounding distraught.

“I’ve just been daydreaming about the day Tim proposes so I can be anything besides a Brown,” Spoiler admitted.

“That’s disgusting,” Batman said. “You and Tim, really?”

“Why not?” Spoiler demanded. “Everyone seems to be of the same mind--what’s wrong with him?”

“I mean, besides that he’s an asshole?” Batgirl asked. “Uh, two words: Super. Girl.”

“I’ve never even met Supergirl,” Spoiler said, struggling to imagine herself dating Supergirl.

“Tim’s dead,” Batman said flatly. “But I agree with Batgirl’s assessment.”

“I think Supergirl and Babs have a thing going on?” Dart said. “Maybe? But anyway I’m more of a Wonder Girl kinda gal myself.”

“Ditto,” Canary said.

“Okay, I get it, you guys are hetero-shaming me,” Spoiler said, lifting her hands up. “For the record, I am bisexual.”

“Good,” Batman said.

“Although, speaking of my lovely boyfriend, I should probably tell him about this….Stephplosion,” Spoiler said, waving her arms at them. She put her finger to her ear to comm Drake, but then the air folded in on itself on a roof within Spoiler’s line of sight and she saw a flash of a familiar color that made her blood boil.

“Shit,” she said.

“What?” Dart asked. Spoiler pointed.

“There was some….orange over there,” she said significantly.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Batgirl said. “If I have to deal with alternate Cluemasters I’m going to slaughter someone.”

“We need to check it out,” Batman said.

“I’m only agreeing since there’s five of us,” Canary said.

“I haven’t seen Arthur since I was eleven and I’m not about to start now,” Dart said, and Spoiler pushed down a surge of jealousy. Batman led the way, grabbing Dart to carry her across the gap.

They stopped at the edge of the roof and looked down at the kid--the kid!--who was sitting on the rooftop below them.

She had on an orange skirt and shirt with blue suspenders. Her tights--also orange--were ripped and she had on orange combat boots. Her bandana was pulled down from her face to rest around her neck, and her blonde hair was in tangles.

Spoiler stared her thirteen year old self in the face and thought about fainting.

“What the fuck,” Batgirl said flatly.

“Don’t hit me!” the kid cried, scrambling to her feet. She had braces, Spoiler noted dimly. “Who are you? What happened?”

“We’re in an alternate universe,” Batman said. “Something’s wrong with the multiverse.”

“Lex Luthor,” Spoiler provided, dazed. “Mining for Kryptonite. Batman--my Batman--is taking care of it.”

“Oh,” tiny, orange Steph said. “So...who are you, then?”

Batman pulled off her cowl. Her blonde hair was short and messy and her face was--old. Spoiler pegged her to be late twenties, probably. Huh. The other Stephs were all teenagers like Spoiler.

“Stephanie,” Batman said, her real voice jarring after the modulated one was gone. “I’m you, okay?”

“In an alternate universe, I’m Batman?” the younger Steph whispered.

“Yes,” Batman said, her voice soft and kind of tender. Spoiler wondered what experience she had with kids. She realized that she could have a Robin. “And that’s Batgirl, and Dart, and Canary, and Spoiler. We’re all you.”

“Spoiler?” the younger Steph said, her eyes wide. “Holy fuck.”

“Language,” Batman said.

“I’m thirteen, not a child.” The younger Steph turned and pulled off her backpack. “Look!” She opened it and pulled out a homemade black bodysuit and hooded cape. “Here’s my Spoiler outfit.”

“I’m going to cry,” Batgirl said. Spoiler’s heart was doing something weird, looking at this tiny version of herself wearing Cluemaster orange.

“Oh, yeah, well. Being Spoiler is my biggest secret,” younger Steph said, putting her costume back away.

“Why are you dressed like that, then?” Dart asked.

“Well,” Steph said, drawing out the word. “I thought Dad might, like, kill me if I didn’t say yes when he asked, so I’m Cluekid by day and Spoiler at night. But, uh, I’m working on bringing down the empire from the inside.”

“Empire?” Spoiler repeated.

“Yeah, Dad’s criminal empire,” Cluekid said. “I’m taking it down.”

“Criminal empire?” Batgirl said, sounding shocked.

“By yourself?” Batman asked, putting her cowl back on. Cluekid pulled up her bandana.

“Yeah, it’s like...someone’s gotta do it, right?”

“Was anyone else’s Cluemaster, like, vaguely incompentent at best?” Batgirl asked, and Spoiler and Canary rose their hands. “Criminal empire, really?”

“It’s super fun that you guys weren’t Cluekid, but leave me alone about it,” Cluekid said. “My dad’s the real deal.”

“Then what’s your plan for when he finds out you betrayed him?” Batman asked. Cluekid blinked slowly.

“Well,” she said, then she stopped.

“You don’t have a plan,” Dart said knowingly. “I can relate.”

“No, she does,” Batman said, horrified.

“You’re just gonna let yourself die?” Spoiler asked. Cluekid shrugged, her arms going up past her head.

“If I have to!” she cried. “Someone’s gotta take him down and I’m the only one who can!”

“Dying’s no big D,” Batgirl said. “I do it all the time.”

Everyone turned to face her.

“I mean, once, but that’s like, more than most people do it,” she amended, and Spoiler shook her head.

“Jesus christ,” she said. “I have to get you guys out of here. I’m going to call Drake, and we’re going to find out how to return you guys. Except maybe Cluekid, cause your universe sucks.”

“Yeah, well, your universe has people leaking into it, so it can’t be all that great,” Cluekid shot back, and Spoiler had to admit she had a point.

While they grappled towards the other end of town, Batman carrying Cluekid and Dart running below them, Spoiler put in a call.

“Batman,” she said. “I have five alternate versions of myself with me.”

“Five Spoilers?” her own Batman asked, his voice gruff.

“Five Stephanies,” she corrected. “A Batgirl, a speedster, a Canary, a kid, and, well. A Batman.”

“Interesting,” Batman said. “Luthor has been apprehended and once I turn off the machine, everyone should return to normal.”

“Okay,” Spoiler said, and Batman disconnected. Spoiler stopped grappling and the group gathered around her. “According to my Batman, you guys should just...go back soon.”

“It’s been nice getting to know you,” Canary said. “Although really weird.”

“Agreed,” Dart said. “I can’t imagine being a Bat.”

“I wish that would happen to me,” Cluekid said. “But…”

“It’ll be okay, kiddo,” Batman said.

“Hey,” Spoiler said. “Batman, do you have a Robin? You’re pretty good with kids.”

“Yeah,” Batman said, smiling. “Her name is Carrie.”

“Hell yeah,” Batgirl said, raising her hand for a fistbump. Batman obliged, and from the corner of her eye Spoiler saw the universe begin folding in on itself.

“Damn, this is me,” Dart said, looking at the wrinkle in the air. It was tied to her leg, so not a difficult conclusion to make. “Well, it’s been nice knowing you ladies. I wish all of you every success--especially you, Lil Steph.”

“Thanks,” Cluekid said, and Spoiler nodded at Dart before she vanished in a puff of purple lightning.

“I’m going to turn on my earplugs,” Canary said. “Who knows what’ll happen when I get back--but anyway, I’m going to be in the dark, hearing-wise.”

“Okay,” Spoiler said, a little confused, and Canary gave everyone a smile.

“It’s been real,” she said, and then she turned on her earplugs. She signed something at them--Spoiler knew only a few signs and couldn’t keep up. Batgirl nodded thoughtfully.

“What’d she say?” Spoiler asked.

“Oh, I have no clue,” Batgirl said. “Come to think of it, the signs me and Cass use aren’t strictly ‘real’ sign language.”

“She said that she turns off her hearing so it’s not damaged by the canary cry,” Batman said. Everyone looked at her. “What? My brother was mute and he had to talk somehow.”

“Brother?” Spoiler repeated, and Batman said, “Damian.”

Damian, mute?

Damian, Steph’s brother?

“I’m leaving,” Canary said loudly, and they turned to face her. She was vanishing just like Dart, and she gave a little wave, then pointed at Batman, who was also disappearing.

“Goodbye,” Batman said, and then she and Canary were gone, leaving Spoiler with Batgirl and Cluekid.

“I’m gonna be real with you guys,” Cluekid said. “I know it’s only been like two minutes but seeing myself, older and with a place in the world….it’s pretty inspiring to think that in another universe I grow up to be Batman.”

“Maybe you still can,” Spoiler suggested, thinking that she didn’t like the idea of this tiny version of herself planning her own death.

“I don’t think so,” Cluekid said, smiling sadly.

“I’ve been through a lot of shit,” Batgirl said. “I’ve even died before. You can’t let any of that stop you, okay? You just gotta push through it.”

“Keep on coming back,” Spoiler said.

“However long it takes,” Batgirl said. Cluekid blinked, tears welling in her eyes, and then she reached for Spoiler and Batgirl, tugging them both into a hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Spoiler said, ruffling her hair, and then Cluekid was gone.

“Damn,” Batgirl said. “She says she’s inspired by us, but I’m inspired by her. She’s so brave.”

“Yeah, I know,” Spoiler said, her throat sort of rough. “Geez.”

“Well, it’s my turn next,” Batgirl said. “So, uh. Bye? I guess.”

“Have fun in your universe,” Spoiler said. “With Oracle and Supergirl.”

“Oh, I absolutely will,” Batgirl said. “Have fun with….Drake. Seriously, we give you shit, but if he’s good for you--”

“He is,” Spoiler said, trying not to think of their breakups.

“Then that’s all there is to it, isn’t it,” Batgirl said. She grinned, and the air behind her began to fold. “Oh, what timing!”

“Goodbye, Batgirl,” Spoiler said.

“Bye, Spoiler,” Batgirl said. “You know, it’s nice to see that somewhere out there, we’re still in the mantle we created.”

“And it’s nice to see that we’re in a mantle given to us,” Spoiler said, and Batgirl grinned.

“Hell yeah it is,” she said, and then she was gone, and Spoiler was left alone.

She sighed, and kept moving.

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

dart from here & here

canary from here

batman from here

cluekid from here--(don’t worry--she doesn’t actually die!)

(all are my own work!)

& then spoiler’s from rebirth and batgirl’s from preboot canon AMEN

#stephanie brown #bruce wayne #my writing #anti tim drake #this is just stephanies roasting each other (but especially the reboot version lol)#long post

268 notes · View notes

rxdshood-a · 4 years

Text

bring on the monsters // batbros discord

WHO: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd. Mentions of Barbara Gordon, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, and Ra’s al Ghul.

WORD COUNT: 3663 words.

LOCATION: Dick’s apartment.

GENERAL NOTES: Jason visits breaks into Dick’s apartment to get some answers on how to get their brother back.

WARNINGS: Brief vague mention of past death, past injuries.

JASON:

Jason was staring entirely too hard at the apartment building before him. One he couldn't even recall if he ever stepped foot in. In all honesty, he doesn't think he has. Mostly out of pure spite and deep seated anger that had been under the surface, frothing and bubbling up ever since he saw Tim donning the Robin suit. There was a lot of anger he held for Bruce, but that in turn trickled down and started to build for one Dick Grayson. The big brother he had wanted and craved in his Robin years, feeling left behind as he saved the world with his Titans. One of two people he had choked out for with blood dripping down his lips, broken fingers clawing at the locked door that was seconds away from blowing.

There was reluctance Jason always held to let anyone in, let anyone close enough to really get in close proximity to his jagged and sharp edges. He had seen too much of himself in Tim, in the other Gotham boy with something to prove. The replacement had gone from a bitter reminder to what was taken from him to someone who understood, someone to look out for. Be the big brother that he always wanted. Now he was gone, all because Ra's al Ghul.

The mere mention of the name sent that green fog striking out like a deadly viper.

Tampering down the anger, Jason rolled his shoulders back and he huffed, taking to the alleyway and to the fire escape ladder. He eased the window open, slipping into the apartment and shutting it behind him. Immediately his nose wrinkled up at the mess. Of course. Kicking a shoe out of his pathway, Jason made his way through the disarray and into the living room to take a seat and wait.

And wait until the door was unlocked and pushed open. "You and me gotta talk, big bird." Oh. That...was. That was a name from a lifetime ago. Entirely too long ago, a sour memory that was shoved to the side and eyes steeled as he stared at his older brother Dick.

DICK:

Dick wasn't the best at dealing with missing members of a team, of a family. There was something in him that Bruce never managed to snuff out: a light that never dimmed, and with that came every repressed emotion the big bad Bat himself never let out. Now, more than ever, Dick felt more like Batman than he did Nightwing, throwing himself into his jobs, rarely taking breaks to rest... Is this what Tim did? Why they both seemed to be shadows lurking in deeper shadows? It was a bad habit they all gathered, he thought, the justification settling in his brain as he fumbled with a key, unlocking his door, ready to switch uniforms and go again.

The minute the door swung open, something felt off about the room. He didn't switch on the light, scanning carefully until he found a shape on his couch. Shit, was this Wilson again?? What the hell did he want this time? Putting on his best scowl, Dick reached for the emergency 'rangs (He called them wing-dings once upon a time. Where did the fun go?) stashed in the duffel full of his police uniform and slammed the light on with an elbow.... deflating the minute he saw his younger brother instead of his adversary

Not in disappointment. Relief.

With a heaved sigh, the vigilante dropped the throwing weapon, absently kicking it to the side and fully shutting his door. "Jason," another breath, wandering over to stand in front of the other, one open hand on his hip, some weird sort of exhausted sorrow taking over his face. "This is a bit of a surprise... Always figured I'd be the one climbing through your window to get you to actually sit and talk to me again."

JASON:

Jason merely cocked an eyebrow when he was faced with a batarang aimed right at him. "Already got a fun scar from one of those, Dickhead, it wouldn't be too surprising to get another one." He gestured at the slash on the side of his neck from what seemed like years ago, but also entirely too fresh. The sting from the injury, from who gave it to him would never cease he thought. There was an eye roll when it was merely dropped to the floor, among all the other disarray.

"First of all, do you even know where I live?" Jason had made sure to not ever divulge that information for a reason, spiteful intentions and anger at keeping the family as far away from him as he could manage. Though, he wouldn't be surprised if Tim knew. He could cover his tracks, he had been good at that, but give Tim a haystack and he'd find that needle.

The thought of his little brother brought him back to the present, shaking his head and standing before Dick. It was still disconcerting from time to time to Jason to stand taller than the eldest Robin. There were times he forgot he wasn't nearly as small as he once was when he ran around donning the scaly shorts and cape. For some it was a lifetime ago, for him? Was too close to feeling like it had just been yesterday.

"I have Tim's laptop." Straight to it, no beating around the bush. "His other one, because c'mon. You guys really thought he only had one laptop? Please." Jason huffed, "and before you ask, yes, it's unlocked. He has to have something that can lead us to him and I..." This was the difficult part, the part Jason had been dreading. Asking for help. He didn't ask for help. He had always been so headstrong, determined to do things on his own after feeling burned and shunned by the people he had once considered family. Now? He knew he couldn't do this alone, as much as it pained him to admit that to himself silently.

"We...we need to get our brother back. So I need you to get your head out of your ass and help me save him." Okay, maybe not the best way to ask. The immediate urge to lash out and be scathing, keep people, especially his family, at arm's length rearing its ugly head. There was a moment of vulnerability, but he reared it back as soon as it happened.

DICK:

Everything he said just had to make Dick feel shitty, didn't it? Every word meant to twist the multiple knives he'd already thrown deeper into his chest, get a rise out of him for no particular reason outside of seeing his reaction. The smirk he'd get from a normal crack like that would usually have him snarling back, but this time they both stayed calm, neutral. This was business, they suddenly had a job to do.

One eyebrow ticked up slightly at the mention of another laptop. Sure, he knew Tim had a desktop and one laptop he used for classes, for travel... But it felt very Tim to have another one hidden away. Damn, he should've known. At least Jason was getting to the point, getting most of the information out there so there was less of a struggle, less work trying to question what they were really trying to do here. With another jab at his ego to boot. Great.

Dick let himself sigh again, sounding more gravely than before. A grunt, a hum, letting the stuffed bag fall from his shoulder. "Right. It's past time to do something about this." Surprising the World's Greatest Detective hadn't been able to find the Second to hold the title, but Tim was good at covering himself, he knew everyone's tricks. It was a wonder that this secret, and obviously not wanting to be known of, computer was in their hands.

"Well..." A vague hand gesture, his eyes flashing with just the faintest light of hope. "Let's crack that puppy open, see what we're working with." With any of that residual hope, they'd pop open a mini-Bat-Computer with all the information they'd want.

JASON:

"Entirely way too past time to do something." Jason reiterated with a huff. "I haven't actually looked at it yet. Figured I'd...well. Wait for you." The admission was one that had him grimacing out of sheer habit. It was ingrained in him to keep Dick at arm's length, the golden boy who was everyone's favorite. The man he never was able to live up to. Though, deep in the back of his mind, there was still that Robin that was leaping around to impress his older brother and laugh over shared ridiculous stories of Bruce over the best chili dogs in Gotham City.

"Right. Let's...do that." Jason shook his head, shoving away any remaining nostalgia. He grabbed the backpack he had tucked away at his feet before Dick entered his apartment and unzipped it, tugging out the laptop he had managed to snatch while visiting Steph. The reminder of her empty, sad eyes had him letting out a harsh breath, ignoring the residual sting and opening up the laptop.

"Let's see what you got for us, Timbers." Jason muttered, the now unlocked screen coming to life before them. He was eternally thankful for Babs and her getting him into Tim's laptop with no questions asked despite her obvious curiosity. He knew she likely knew what he was up to, but regardless, kept her questions to herself, trusting him. That was more he could say for some of the bats.

DICK:

Wait for him. Now why would the guy who's been avoiding his ass for months, years, be saying something like that? Dick noticed the flinch, the facial tick. Jason didn't like saying it either. That was either a lie, an admittance, or... something he didn't really know how to exactly describe. Jason was always a hard read, maybe that's because he read him so much when he was younger, knew his affinity for literal body language. Wouldn't it be something to get a true read on him someday?

The small smile that came up was genuine on his side, shoulders slightly relaxing as the other finally pulled the hopefully final piece of evidence they needed to crack this case wide open. It almost made him laugh, how many bats did you need to really dig into this smart-ass's tech? He'd known Tim since he started the Robin gig, just barely before then, met him even when he was still the youngest Flying Grayson, not the only, the last surviving.

Dick came around to the side, watching at a moderate, and hopefully safe, distance at Jason's side. Yep, suspicions confirmed. It was like he copy-pasted the entire Cave operating system into his personal work-horse. He didn't even want to know what kind of customization Tim had to do to get that to work, let alone make it look so inconspicuous. While they all got the same detective and forensic training, it was really the smaller bird that took it and ran, really got into the tech side of it all. Who knows, without him they might be stuck in the stone ages of steel 'rangs without radio tech.

Reminiscing aside, Dick squinted at the screen, the all-too-common tick most of their family kind adapted from the old man. (It starts as a joke, the "bat-squint", then you start doing it unironically.) "Alright. We have it, it's unlocked and most likely decoded... Where to start?"

JASON:

Jason eyed Dick when he came around to stand near him. He refrained from outright snarling at the close proximity and instead turned back to the laptop screen. He would have time later on to punch Dick in the throat, or dick. The thought made him smirk slightly and he focused on the task at hand. It wasn't surprising in the slightest Tim had his own version of the computer in the Cave, because of course he would. Jason had snooped in Tim's room while Steph had finally vacated Tim's room (probably at Alfred's prompting) for 'fresh air'. The moment he had found the computer he had bolted from the manor, trying to ignore the anxiety that threatened to choke him with its intensity.

"Guess the answer to that stupid question would be to see if he has any League related files." The barb was out before Jason could stop it and he grimaced internally. It was a reflex, to lash out at his former...family, if you could call it that, to take a knife and shove it in violently and twist and twist until it hit something vital. Maybe it was to see if they'd react just like he feared thought they would, say something equally as harsh and biting to make the already wide canyon between them even bigger.

Jason bit back the urge to immediately lash out again, throw out another biting remark and instead starting typing to find anything League related on the computer. His brow furrowed at the files that popped up, clicking into them and trying to find something, anything that would help. "Oh shit." He breathed out. "He's been tracking their movements. Holy shit."

DICK:

Dick didn't allow himself to flinch away. He was staying right there, right where he could double check the evidence himself, go through the regular process of sleuthing. Jason could try all he wanted to keep pushing him away, but Dick wasn't one to give up so easily. Just as much as he held harsh grudges, he held on to those past bonds he wished he could tie back up. After all, it was the younger bird that came to him. He couldn't fight this chance to at least attempt to make things right again.

The squint on his face widened as red-tinted files flashed open in front of his very eyes. Direct pattern mapping, software that was still tracking movement, lists of known members, known affiliates, known locations. "Holy info overload," he mumbled, leaning in closer with a hand fisting in his hair. "Way to get 'traught, baby bird." There was a small flicker of pride in his heart, a smile following as he absorbed as much of what he was seeing. It was a lot. Yet another thing he had no clue how Tim managed to keep complete track of, the kid was surprising him still every day.

Surprise.... "Check on last known locations of Red Robin. He had to have a tracker built into the suit, something to... to track his own data output. Tim was a walking computer in that thing, there has to be a pinpoint where his tech stopped transmitting data."

JASON:

Jason's eyes took in all the information he could. Dick was right, it was a shit ton of information. What did they expect from Tim though? There was an overload of info they were sifting through and Tim likely was able to keep it all straight. The kid surprised him more and more each day. Not that Jason would admit that. Well, with anyone else present at least.

"Got it, Big Bird." Jason muttered without much thought, typing rapidly to pull up the last location that Tim was pinged to. It took a few moments but Jason was able to pull up the coordinates of the last pinged location Tim had been to before all data had been halted. "He was pinged to some warehouse." Jason frowned after inputting the coordinates.

Looking over at his brother predecessor, Jason cocked an eyebrow. "I always hated warehouses." He huffed out a breath, ruffling the white stripe of hair. "What now? We go look at that warehouse? We follow the leads he has? He has to have their last known base on here, somewhere we can find the bastard."

DICK:

... Something clicked, wide eyes snapping a big wider as he stared. Did he hear that right? Was he saying that the entire time?? That's a nickname he hadn't heard in years, not since he went off to college, the police academy in Haven, when he'd been gone for too long. Did he ever apologize for those nights he'd forgotten about? Did Jason even remember those times? No, focus, Grayson. You have a job to do. One brother is already here, you need to get to the other one.

"Warehouses. It always has to be warehouses, doesn't it?" The crack fell flat, daring a quick look at the other's scar-riddled face was enough to remind him exactly why Jason hated them. Nevemind. A hand went to cover his mouth, thinking silently as the evidence set in front of them rattled his brain. "... Cross-reference the last date and time of Tim's transmissions with air transport of the League. See of there was any aircraft his software marked suspicious." If the program he'd made even had time to create that kind of label, if it even worked if the man wasn't manning it.

"And... Check for any influx of League mandated imports. If Ra's was planning on keeping company, he's going to want to stay there himself." Commanding the charge like this, it was a different kind of nostalgia. As far as he knew, the two birds were equals, working on the same playing field with different strategies that ultimately got the job done. Maybe he was overstepping, maybe he was asking for too much at once. "If... If we can find a hot spot, that might just be our target." It sounded unbelievable, to find a man nearly impossible to find until he showed up at your door with his own curtains to bust through, and yet here it was, all the evidence at their fingertips. It was almost terrifying.

JASON:

Jason huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. Where else would the bad guys do their illegal activities? In a Kohl's?" He muttered, "at least something a bit more grandeur would be entertaining for once. They never think of us." At Dick's prompting, Jason immediately started typing and searching for their gotcha moment. This felt entirely too familiar, Jason blinked and suddenly he was a foot shorter, donning black gloves and a cape sat at his back. The familiar flash of blue in the corner of his eye as they poured over the computer, working seamlessly together while Bruce observed from a distance away. The one time they didn't actually fight.

A sharp breath was exhaled and familiar scarred fingers replaced the gloved ones, body too big for what he was used to back once more. It was dizzying, made him long for simpler times, times where he didn't feel like he was against his family at every turn. Where they didn't hate—

Enough.

"I got it. I don't need to be ordered around. I was never your Robin, don't start acting like it now." Jason snapped, the nostalgia burning and hurting, the immediate response to lash out flaring up in an instant. His jaw clenched and he continued typing, eyes moving in a rapid fashion as he read and read trying to make it click. To find that missing puzzle piece.

"...I think I got it." Jason let out a breath and turned the laptop to face Dick, pointing at the coordinates that popped up. "Influx of League import. Air travel that left not too far from the warehouse Tim was last pinged at, sent straight for where the influx was located. We...I think we got him, Dick."

DICK:

Things were going so smoothly. It really felt like things were going to work again. Falling into place, fixing a shattered relationship with ducttape... But some things probably just weren't meant to be fixed. Maybe their relationship was too beyond repair, Dick barely even flinched at Jason's lashing. Was he really too used to it by now? The thought had sadness settling in his eyes, but a small frown just underneath them.

Venom, pure venom, meant to hurt and kill. Push him away even further. If he wasn't such a damn fool he'd think it was a lost cause.

The revelation broke his current thought process, most emotion wiping to a blank flatline state as his eyes caught the big red target they were looking for. I think we got him. It felt too good to be true. "Holy... Shit." Dick leaned in, hand over his mouth in shock, slightly as he rushed through the flood of information again. "Gee... What... Do we go? We can't charge into this head first, he's expecting us..." No, wait. No he'd be expecting Bruce. A justification crossed his mind, whipping once again to lock eyes with his younger, lost brother. "He won't expect you at all. You can lead the charge."

JASON:

"Of course he's expecting us. He's been expecting us since Steph went missing only to be dumped on the doorstep of the manor, bruised and bleeding." Jason sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. He froze the moment Dick whipped around and made eye contact with him. The shock was clear as day on his face. Him? Dick wanted him to play leader? The man who everyone always turned to take the lead? It wasn't that he didn't know how to play leader, he was just as bossy and commanding as the other Robins, but he didn't think Dick well...Believed in him, if he was going to be honest.

Wiping the surprise off his face, Jason took a few moments to debate over it. Ra's wouldn't expect him, the divide between the bats he's had for so long, to be working with them may just be unexpected. To have Jason leading it all at least would be. This might just work. They had the pieces of the puzzle put together before them, now they just had to act.

Looking at his...his brother, Jason nodded once. "Okay. Let's fuckin' do this then. We'll kick Ra's al Ghul's ass and get our little brother back."

#{{ BROTHERS!! B R O T H E R S !!! }}#int: discord #int: dick grayson #dick grayson: 005 #discord: dick grayson #death mention tw #injury mention tw #cxrcusbxrd

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 5 years

Text

Those Comics | Chapter three

Marvel/Dc crossover x reader Warnings: None, I think I’m safe for this one Word count: 2342 Summary: Now that the seriousness of the situation is clear, you’ll have to face some rather inconvenient truths Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | You’re here |

The mood in the Watchtower-meeting-room was pretty down. The universe-native heroes were standing around a holographic-table (the bat-boys who you liked much more than the big heroes stayed in Gotham after they told Bruce to take you with them to the Watchtower) looking at some scientific-graphs and occasionally looked over to you. You had serious flashbacks to the time you first became an Avenger. At the start, before you earned their trusted, they also excluded you and looked at you like you could jump up and scream "Hail, Hydra" at any given moment. The only difference was, that you didn't really care back then as much as you do now, since, y'know, YOU WERE STILL IN YOUR OWN UNIVERSE. A long Sigh escaped you and you slid down the wall of the room, where you were standing at. And so, sitting on the floor with your knees under your shin, the reality of the situation dawned on you. You were trapped in a different Universe, with people who don't trust you as far as they could throw you, which could seemingly soon collapse into nothingness, with no idea how to go back or how to at least say good-bye to your family. You felt the tears dwell up, but fought them to the best of your Abilities. You were the one who held the others when they cried or needed stability. You were the stable part, you couldn't break down. Not now, not ever. A deep breath later, you shook your head and jumped up again. "Sooo? You wanna include the scientist from another Universe who may or may not know more than you about the situation?" you asked cheekily, winking at Batman. "No," he grunted and turned the Holographic-desk off. A huff left you, you rolled your eyes and glitched over to the window, enjoying the great sight of Earth in front of you. "I understand that you don't trust me," you said, your voice deeper and not as happy as usual. "To be honest, I wouldn't trust me too. Hell," you chuckled, "I worked with Loki oft enough to have doubts on everyone." You looked at your own reflection, tracing your features and wondering just how much you've changed since you started this superhero-life. "I understand that your priority lies on your earth and your people, but you have to understand that I have my priorities too," now you looked behind over your shoulder, "And if we can't find a way to fulfill both of them, I'll have to work alone." "We can't let you stroll around on our earth, you do not belong here," Diana said, her voice was like honey and you enjoyed hearing it more than you would have expected, but you couldn't help but notice the undertone, slightly threatening. You nodded slowly and hummed. "You're right. I don't belong here. That's why I want to get back to my Earth." "We understand that, believe us, and we assure you that we'll help you to get back to your Universe, but before, we'll have to take care of ours, okay?" Superman said and, even though you didn't really believe him completely, you were still a hero and decided that you'd gladly help them to fix their universe. "Fine," you sighed and nodded to the Holo-desk. "Can I have a look?" Batman was already trying to say no, but Green Arrow ignored him and activated it. It took you a few seconds to understand how that desk worked, since Tony's were almost completely automatic, but when you did, you were quick to look through all the pieces of information given (which were not many). After five minutes, you noticed something. "Here," you said pointing to the data of the energy that was all too familiar for you, it was the same energy measured back when Loki tried to take over New York. "This Data is basically the manifestation of a type of Gamma-radiation-energy that is pretty similar to one I already know. Back in my universe, it was first seen through two of the infinity stones, some of the most powerful items we know off when said stones were used to create a portal through space to start an Alien Invasion." You looked around to check if everyone was on track, but since no one looked too confused you just continued: "Well, to make a long story short, I think that's basically what's happening, just with this universe something from out of this universe..." you trailed off when you realized what that meant. "What?" Flash asked and you groaned. "Something from out of this universe opened a portal into this one. And with something...I mean me. I did that." Bruce pointed his finger at you angrily, "Does that mean you're destroying the shell?" "NO NO NO NO NO!" you exclaimed and glitched backwards. "Well, I'm afraid I'm the cause, but I'm not really the one doing it." "I'm not really getting it. I feel like I'm only hearing half a conversation," Green Lantern sight and leant back onto the wall. "Okay, okay, okay...gimme a Second," you said, teleported away and through the whole watchtower, searching for a Window that would not destroy the whole tower when it was gone. When you finally found it you teleported it out of its frame and both of you back into the meeting room. You placed the pane onto the table and held your hand out to Batman. "What?" he gruffed. "I need something sharp and pointy and what would be better for that then a Batarang?" "No," he said, but one look from wonder woman had him rolling his eyes under his cowl and give you one. "So," you said, gesturing to the pane, "imagine this is your universe and this," you gestured to the other side, "Is mine. The glass is the barrier." "Okay, I think I can follow until now," Flash nodded, giving you enough reason to continue. "Good. Well, I am the Batarang, and when I accidentally teleported here, that happened." You took the Batarang and rammed it cautiously into the glass, enough to make it crack but not enough to make it shatter. "So the outer shell is already broken?" Diana asked concerned. "Yes," you sighed, "but I can't tell you what will happen. Maybe it stays like that, but that would mean..." you directed your gaze back to the sight of the planet that looked so much like yours, "that I can't go back. Every nudge onto the shell would immediately destroy it." Batman sighed but did something that surprised you. He asked: "What would happen if you went back none the less? What would happen to our universe?" You bit you under-lip before, nudging the glass, causing it to break into pieces. "This. The barrier would be gone. Best case, The universes convergence and we'll have two versions of every planet that exists in both of our universes, but in the worst case, they merge and...uhm...it won't be pretty. The survival rate would be in the single digits." "That means we're safe as long as you don't go back to your universe?" Superman asked with pity in his voice. "Oh...no, sorry. You just have more time. I'm not the only one who can teleport through universes as far as I know and even if no one can or would, I can't tell how stable the shell is." "That means we have to find a way to fix it, right?" Green Arrow asked. You nodded, even though you had no idea how exactly you were going to find this way.

(A bit later, in the manor)

After an hour of searching for ways to fix the shell, Bruce exclaimed that it wouldn't help to exhaust all off you and decided that you would stay in the manor with him and the bat-kids, who all decided to stay for a while in order to help with the problem. Alfred (the saint) showed you the room you'd stay in and you realized just how tired you were, 'causing you to fall into bed and immediately fall asleep.

When you opened your eyes again, you noticed that you weren't in your room, nor in the room, Bruce gave you in the manor. In fact, when you looked around you, you found yourself flowing in a space that reminded you of a van Gogh painting. Surrounding you were different shades of blue yellow and black that merged into each other and made you feel dizzy. The next thing you noticed was, that you weren't wearing your clothes anymore. Now you were wearing a long green dress, it's fabric flowing down your body like a silent river, with golden ornaments on it. The realization of what this meant was hitting you like the pleasant warmth of cocoa on a cold winter day. A small smile formed on your lips and you turned around, searching your surrounding area for the man who you'd usually curse out for intruding your dream, even though you currently just wanted to hug him. "I see you missed me," his smooth, honey-like voice reached your ears and turned around yet again to see him smirking at you. "I wouldn't say it's missing you specifically," you said sarcastically but smiled widely nonetheless, "but that doesn't mean I'm less happy to see you Loki." Said god float nearer and took one of your hands in his, swirling you around him as if you were dancing. You knew not to fall for his gentle behaviour and his attempt to seduce you into trusting him. It wasn't the first time he did something like that, but you knew that fighting against it would only make him even more mischief-y than before, so you played along to get what you wanted. "Tell me, how exactly did you manage to hide your location from even my magic? No one has managed to find you yet. Are you going rough, darling?" You jerked back slightly, still getting swirled around by Loki's arm around the small of your back and his other hand in yours, your second arm resting around his neck, or rather shoulder since you tried to keep at least some modest rate of distance. "What? Of course not," you huffed, slightly worried that Loki could even consider that you could betray your family like that, but a few seconds later your face changed into one of confusion, "does that mean that you have no idea where I am right now?" It looked like it was causing him physical pain to admit that he had, indeed, no idea, but Loki still nodded slightly, before he even went so far to say it out loud, something you wouldn't have expected. "No one does. Your little hero friends and my brother are all throwing a fit because of you, they even went so far to invite me to their home, a horrible decision really, with the hope I could find you. This is my last attempted and if I don't wake up with some results, Captain I-don't-need-anyone is going to throw me right back to Jotunheim." Realizing just how worried Carol and the others would have to be, you leant your head against Lokis chest, missing the smirk that filled his expression. "I hoped they knew..That would've made this so much easier," you mumbled, staring in the distance lost. Now it was the mischiefs turn to bring some space between the both of you, by backing away enough to look down at you with raised eyebrows. "What would've made that easier, (Y/N)?" he asked with a tone that reminded you slightly of worry. "I'm not in this universe anymore," you said, looking down at the hem of your dress. "I know I'm great, but even I can't communicate with the dead through a normal dream spell," he huffed, clearly thinking you tried to make a foul out of him. "That's...That's not what I meant," you sighed, rolling your eyes at him, "I mean I'm quite literally not in your universe anymore, I'm in a different one and..." you freed yourself from Loki's grip and let your eyes wander through your dream-landscape, "I can't come back anymore."

(Somewhere else, around the same time)

It was dark outside and the only light source illuminating the spacious, modern office was the monitor of the top-of-the-line computer, the only sound was the clicking if the keyboard and the only smell the strong coffee standing on the desk. If you'd be standing outside of the office, looking in through the glass walls and door, you'd be able to make out the wide-build shoulders peer out behind the back of the chair, since the man they belonged to was so well-built. His muscular body and visible wealth would make most women (and not few men) swoon for him, but his aura and something in his eyes made you fear him and his simple presence. He was truly the personification of intimidating. The sound of heels hitting the shiny-flawless-floor announced the arrival of another person and the man didn't need to see her, to recognize his trusted assistant simply by the sound of her shoes. The keypad at the door beeped when the woman entered her passcode and the door automatically opened for her, so smooth that no sound was made. "We've located the source," the woman's voice broke the silence and her words, even though he expected them, filled the man with satisfaction, only for his smirk to be wiped from his face by her next ones. "The Justice league has arrived there before we were able to find out anything else and when our employees arrived, there was only a crater left and they couldn't further investigate since the property it landed on belongs to Bruce Wayne." The only sign that showed that the man was angered was his clenched fist, which almost immediately relaxed again. "Find a way to get more information on it. It's priority number one. All other projects that do not need any constant surveillance will be paused until I say so."

Taglist: @panda-duuu @empirialwolf @reallysparklychaos@scarecrowsragdoll @zofty15 @jason-todd-deserved-better@vanessafabricius @probsjosh @silentwhispofhope@rockyrocket15 @uguid @sirkekselord

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violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Philtatos [10/?]

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

Blanket Disclaimer

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

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #warriors #riddle

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

The blade sticks out of Jason’s chest, gleaming unnaturally in the moonlight.

“You were saying?” Cutter purrs.

Somehow, her voice reaches Tim even where he’s pinned, sending a cold chill of dismay surging through his body. He would scream Jason’s name if it weren’t for the unyielding chokehold Dick has him in.

While Tim’s gasping for air, Jason’s attention doesn’t appear to be on the weapon that may have just killed him. From the subtle way his body is straining toward Tim whose attempts to push Dick off of him grow weaker, he seems more preoccupied with Tim than his own predicament.

“Juh…”

His attempts to speak use up valuable air and Tim curses mentally as his vision blurs. He thinks a blood vessel may have burst in his eye.

“What was that, Timmy?” Batman sneers. “Sounds like something’s caught in your throat.”

Great. Even when he’s gone dark side, he’s got to make bad jokes.

Tim tries to keep calm, to control his limited airflow, and think of a way out of this situation. Every beat of his heart feels like it’s jarring his body. And Jason, the poor idiot, keeps trying to inch toward Tim.

Jason, concentrate, she’s about to kill you, or worse!

Tim is distantly cognizant that Damian is still struggling against the way Dick has dangled him, trying to escape. He can hear the shift of leather and Kevlar as Steph struggles to get up.

“I have to say, I was impressed,” Cutter continues, spindly fingers digging into his shoulder as she twists the sword until Jason’s attention on Tim falters. His snarl of pain echoes through the voice modulator but to Tim’s relief, it doesn’t sound wet in a way that would indicate internal bleeding. “Just thinking of all the discord you could cause if those blades of yours were just…a little…corrupted…”

She punctuates each pause with a twist of the blade, and how the hell is Jason not bleeding out right now?

Maybe it’s my imagination…oxygen deprivation…come on, focus! She’s got him with a golden sword—golden arrow? So probably not trying to kill him. And he’s not poisoned with lead the way Dick was which…should be a good thing? Right?

Unless it requires a command to work like the arrow Cutter stabbed Dick with. Tim’s having a hard time coming up with scenarios for the golden diviner, but he thinks that’s more oxygen deprivation than lack of imagination.

Tim shifts beneath the anchor that is Batman, trying to worm his fingers toward the taser trigger in his suit. The way Dick is crowding against him, any charge that goes through him will hit Tim—and Damian—too, so he must be careful of the wattage. Not enough to parboil them all, but enough to allow him some give.

He hopes that because he’s expecting it, he’ll be able to withstand a second or two long enough to get free and get to Jason.

“Hey! Bat-dick!”

Looks like there’s some luck on his side, at least, as Steph, still a bit off-balance, chucks a handful of senbon-like projectiles at him. At the same time, Damian bends upward and wraps himself around Dick’s arm while jamming a knife into the part of his arm not protected by armor. “This one I am not apologizing for!”

“I think what you mean is, ‘sorry not sorry!’” Steph follows up with a swipe of her fist.

Dick snarls, jerks to one side to avoid Steph’s attack, while at the same time flinging the boy off and away from him. Steph grunts in pain as Robin lands on her.

The minute decrease in pressure gives Tim the space he needs to activate the taser. It throws Dick backward with a surge of electricity, which leaves Tim momentarily stunned and gasping against the same pulse.

There’s movement beside Tim, Steph crawling over to his side. “You okay?”

“Been better,” he replies, shaking off the dizziness as he gets to his feet.

“Aren’t you two adorable,” Dick growls, recovered now and stalking toward them. Tim tries to put himself in front of Steph, knowing that her injury will provide too tempting a target, but she snorts and stands beside him.

“Stubborn much?”

“Take a look in the mirror sometime.”

“You two are wasting time,” Damian growls and runs headlong at Dick, skidding low to take his feet out from beneath him.

Dick somersaults in the air to avoid him, lands on his feet in front of Steph, who’s already winding up a punch. Dick lifts off with one foot, twists in the air, knocking the punch off course with his feet and smacking Tim in the face before he can get close. As Steph’s body finishes the botched move, bending double, Dick continues to spin in midair, rolling over her back and flips a knife into his hand, grabs hold of Damian’s cape to wrap around his head, and then plunges the knife downward to pin him to the ground by the material.

Then he’s up and swiping at Tim with another blade, while Tim blocks and dodges out of the way of the wild blows. Seeing an opening, he bends forward and shoulders the older man, hard enough that he turns and faces Steph and her wild swing to the side of his head. Dick ducks, blocks, uses her momentum to flip her to the ground, stomps hard on her gut to leave her gasping, and turns around in time to bob from side to side to avoid Tim’s next onslaught.

Tim leaves himself open, and Dick turns his back, elbowing him in the face from behind.

“You want to know why I fired you?” Dick sneers at Tim, gripping him close. “It wasn’t because Damian needed Robin.” He pulls Tim’s arm over his shoulder and flips him over his back; without letting go, he unleashes a flurry of kicks to the small of his back. “It was because you were never meant to have the title.”

As Tim lists, Dick kicks his heel into his chest.

“Right—because I’m going to listen to anything you say right now,” Tim grunts, fumbling a moment before skidding back on his feet. He forcibly ignores the long-dormant doubts trying to surface in response to his brother’s diatribe, flings out several small explosives as Dick renews his attack, dodging nimbly between the bursts.

“You’ve always been the weakest—better suited to being behind a computer than in the field.” He throws a handful of Batarangs at Tim, who crosses his arms in front of his face to block them; two of them get embedded in his upper arm. “And you’re still mediocre at that compared to someone like Oracle.”

“Everyone’s mediocre compared to Oracle.”

“Keep telling yourself, if it makes you feel better about yourself. Not like you’ve got much else.” Dick catches hold of him, presses the metal deeper through flesh and muscle, making cry out. “Bruce never wanted you. Not as Robin.”

Tim falters a bit at that, if only because he knows that’s true. He lived that himself.

It’s enough of a pause for Dick to take advantage.

“Not as a son.” More pressure, and Tim grits his teeth. “He adopted you out of pity. Because he wanted to protect his secret.” Dick tugs one of the blades loose, turning it in his hand to set it beneath Tim’s chin. “You’ll never measure up to my legacy. Hell, you can’t even live up to the Robin that died!”

“No!” Jason croaks, trying to take another step forward, but kept frozen in place.

“For one of the All-Caste’s chosen, you appear oddly preoccupied with a mere mortal boy,” Cutter muses. “And look what that’s already cost you.”

“Lady, you have no idea,” Jason spits through gritted teeth.

“No need to fret, though. Such affection…it will soon be directed to me instead. That way, it won’t even hurt when Batman crushes his throat.” She stands on tiptoes, mouth near the side of Jason’s helmet. “Now—devote your love to me. Be useful to me and serve my needs. Kill them all as a gift to me.”

She pulls back and for an instant, it seems like the golden sword has duplicated—one is in her hand, the other still stuck in Jason’s abdomen. But the latter vanishes, flickering out of existence the same as the dart that downed Dick.

Somehow, there’s no blood spreading across Jason’s abdomen, or even a hint of a gaping wound. He claws at his gut in surprise.

Meanwhile, as Dick goes to swipe the blade across Tim’s throat, his arm is hauled back, and he is levered to the ground.

Damian stands in his place, cape gone and a furious flush in his cheeks.

“Back off,” he orders. “I won’t have Drake’s death on your conscience, however useless he is.”

“Thanks…” Tim wheezes as he tries to recover. “Really feeling the love.”

“You’re not fooling anyone with that act, little brother,” Dick tells Damian with an unkind smile. “All your talk about emotions and weakness, and all your League training—and you’re as soft as any other kid.”

“I am not a child!”

“Whatever you are, you still bleed.”

There’s a burst of gunfire, causing everyone to duck reflexively, except for Dick. Whether out of reflex, or thanks to the thickness of his mask, he avoids the rounds that skim just past his cheek, leaving red welt of burned flesh in its wake.

“Funny,” Jason growls, from behind clenched teeth it sounds like. “I was going to say the same about you.”

Cutter watches him, wide mouth curling into a cold smile.

Dick shifts his body, accommodating for a possible new enemy. “Are you going to try to kill me now, Little Wing?”

Jason takes another step forward, raising mismatched guns, and takes a shot.

“No!” Steph cries even as Dick throws himself out of the path of the shot.

A second later, Tim notices the weapon Red Hood is leveling at Dick isn’t one of his custom pistoles—it’s one of the tranquilizer guns from the cave. In the same instant, Jason’s whipped around and fired a volley at Cutter, who shrieks and dodges out of the way.

“What?” Cutter demands.

I’ll second that…

“How…?”

“Alright, babybird?” Jason calls, edging back toward Tim, still firing on Cutter who persists in evading.

“How are you still…?”

“I’m just that good.”

“That’s impossible!” Cutter snarls, recovering. “The winged brat himself is powerless against the golden—! How did you—?” She takes note of Jason’s protective stance in front of Tim, and her expression becomes sharp. “Unless…”

She doesn’t finish her thought, instead shakes her head.

“No matter. If you won’t serve me as the Bat does, you’ll die beside your beloved!”

She charges and vaults through the air, bringing down her swords upon Jason’s head—and just as before, out of nowhere, there’s a burst of golden flame that solidifies into swords in Jason’s hands, catching the diviners.

“Help Todd,” Damian orders Tim. “Otherwise the moron will become distracted and get stabbed again.”

“We’ve got this,” Steph agrees.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, bat bitch, you sure?” Dick taunts.

Tim can almost hear Steph’s knuckles crack as she forms a fist. “Oh, I’m so getting my second wind.”

“Just remember he’s not himself,” Tim reminds her.

“No promises.”

“I have alerted Pennyworth,” Damian interjects in. “Presumably he will arrive before anyone dies.”

“You hope,” Tim mutters, already hurrying to Jason’s side to take a position against Cutter. “Any chance you can lend me one of those magic swords?”

“Sorry, Red, they’re sort of soul-coded.”

“Of course they are,” Tim sighs, bringing out his spare bo-staff and clicking the button to elongate it. “You’re explaining that at some point.”

“Help me take this broad down and it’s a date.”

“Stop flirting!” Steph shouts as she holds of Dick’s incoming fists onehanded. She’s using what Tim recognizes as several modified Wing Chun techniques. They’re suited to taking down a normal thug, but right now it just barely allows her to hold her own against Batman. The only thing keeping him from targeting her injured arm is Damian, who has taken his sword back up and levies a savage assault on their older brother that Dick is forced to block.

Meanwhile, Jason and Tim dart toward Cutter, Jason in front and Tim flanking. Her blade arcs to meet him in an overhand swing, the force of it knocking Jason back even as Tim takes position behind her and strikes downward to her shoulder.

She spins and catches it with her other sword, stabbing forward with the first; Tim jerks back as Jason rallies and slices toward her; she catches that, sweeping down low to knock Tim odd his feet, and as she uncoils meets Jason’s blade with sparks, the momentum of the blow throwing him to the ground.

“I’m getting tired of eating dirt,” Jason mutters.

“There’s got to be a way we can get an opening,” Tim agrees, picking himself back up again.

Nearby, Dick grabs Steph, yanks and tosses her over his head, as Damian takes a running jump and launches himself forward. He aims a double kick, which Dick blocks with crossed arms that he uses to shove the boy backward. Damian flips in the air, lands in a lunge, sword still at the ready.

With Jason still on the ground, Tim has to defend when Cutter swings at him, ducking and whipping the staff at her. She twists out of the way in the air, regaining her hold on her swords which come down on Tim. He meets every blow, rapidly shifting his staff to catch the edges.

It works for a bit until one of her blades slices right through.

“Okay. Not just magic, also super sharp,” he grunts. “Noted.”

Mentally cursing, he adjusts his stance to fight with the remaining staff pieces, arcs them around and aims for her head.

Cutter gets out of the way of one of them, but the other hits her in the face. She falls to one knee, but it’s not because she dazed so much as she is trying to pincushion him from below.

Tim jumps back as she lunges forward with an underhanded swing, but Jason is recovered, sliding over and catching them with one of his swords.

“That’s it!” Cutter hisses. “Unleash your savage nature and stop me if you dare!”

“Oh, I dare,” Jason growls. “You killed a kid, Carrie. The only thing you deserve is savage.”

Cutter laughs. “It was a necessary sacrifice.”

“I doubt Green Arrow would think that,” Jason counters. “He’s a bit of a douche, but even he wouldn’t be impressed with a child killer.”

Cutter growls at this, but her moves slow incrementally.

Tim narrows his eyes in calculation.

Why would that affect her? Not worried about killing a kid…but worried about the Green Arrow judging her? Actually, now that I think about it, she slowed down before when Jason mentioned Green Arrow.

Far behind him, Steph launches herself at Dick, aiming a kick at the small of his back; Damian, waiting in the wings, charges forward and launches into his older brother’s chest. It’s not enough to wind him, given the body armor, but does put him off balance.

Before he can take advantage of it, though, Dick flings a bolo outward. The cables wrap around Damian, knocking him off his feet.

Steph has her nightstick out, uses it to knock Dick straight across the jaw to send him sprawling as well.

“Stay down…bat bitch,” she pants.

Jason is still running his mouth.

“I mean, it’s one thing trying to off his lady friend, but a kid? That’s one of those relationship dealbreakers, I’m thinking.”

Cutter narrows her eyes, once again faltering.

Tim decides it’s enough evidence to run with his theory.

“There will never be a chance for you two,” he speaks up, injecting a taunting note into his voice. “No matter who much power you think you have.”

“He won’t have a choice!” Cutter snarls. Her eyes flicker, red to green and back. “I’ll make him love me, in a way I never could before!”

“Will you really?” Jason asks. “Or is that just what your secret god friend told you you’d do? Because you’ve spent an awful lot of time everywhere else but tracking down the Green Arrow.”

“Yeah, Star City’s about 2500 miles that way. You could have been there a week ago, with the diviners, if you hadn’t gotten sidetracked by—who’s plan was it?”

“You…are beneath…her,” Cutter replies through gritted teeth.

“'Her?’” Tim echoes. “Well, that’s a help.” He pretends to consider it. “Although, maybe that’s it. Maybe she’s not bringing you to make Green Arrow yours because she doesn’t think you should be with him?”

“No!” Cutter yells, and her eyes are completely back to green now. The overwhelming sense of presence surrounding her fades and Tim knows that she’s suddenly just Carrie Cutter again.

Jason knows too because he’s ditched his magic swords and now brandishes a tranq gun, shooting her with it in the back.

Cutter goes rigid, and falls to the ground, only just catching herself on her elbows.

“That should have taken her down,” Tim says, dismayed.

“Guess it wasn’t enough to take down a god, huh?”

Behind them, Damian slices through the heavy cable holding him prisoner, as Steph readies her own tranquilizer gun to shoot at Dick.

Jason readies the gun to shoot again. “You’re done, Carrie. This ends now.”

Before he can shoot, though, her wrist lashes out to one side, and—shit, the black sword has reverted to its crossbow form!—trains her weapon on Tim.

“I guarantee I can shoot your boyfriend even if you pull that trigger,” she hisses. “And I have a feeling capturing me isn’t worth him hating you.”

Jason freezes.

“Shoot her!” Tim snaps.

“I…”

Jason’s hand shakes.

“No!” Steph yells from behind them, and its reflex to turn towards it.

Dick seizes hold of Steph’s bo, twisting it out of her hands and jabs upward, intent to crush her throat with its edge.

Instantly, Damian is there, grabbing hold of the staff to slow it enough that she can move; in doing so, he ends up having to grapple hand to hand with Dick. Steph stumbles and gets a grip on the gun, hesitating a moment, before shooting.

At the exact moment that Dick gets hold of Damian and moves him into the path of the projectile, Jason gives a grunt and he’s thrown to one side. When Tim turns back, it’s to see Cutter streaking off into the surrounding woods, leaving her bike behind.

“Looks like that dose is a bit too much for the brat,” Dick observes distantly.

“He’s going into respiratory distress!” Steph yells. She’s trying to get to the boy, but Dick is in her path.

Tim and Jason look at each other. They can’t risk Cutter getting away—but they can’t risk Damian dying. Even though Tim can’t read his expression behind the helmet, he knows that they’ve made the decision together.

Instantly, Tim scrambles over to Damian, while Jason throws himself in Dick’s path, his magic swords vanishing into the ether. “You don’t want to hurt that kid, Dickhead! Why not try someone your own size?”

Dick growls, teeth gritted, and darts forward, using Steph as a stepping stone to get to Jason. He stomps down hard on her already injured side, in a way that grants him momentum

Before Jason can react, Dick’s thighs are wrapped around his neck, twisting him around and using the force of it to throw him to the ground. If it weren’t for the reinforced neck hear, Tim’s sure Dick would have snapped his neck.

Can’t think about that right now.

He feels for Damian’s pulse and checks the other vitals, while Steph pulls a manual resuscitator from her utility pouch. Even as she fits it over his face and Tim keeps an eye out lest Dick somehow make it over to them, he knows Cutter’s already vanished.

“Heart’s stopping,” he grunts, tense as he tries to calculate in his head how high the tranquilizer dose was and how it’s interacting with Damian’s body weight.

“Help me get through the body armor,” Steph orders.

Tim doesn’t have a cast saw on him, or any edged tool that could get through Damian’s body armor, but he does have a modified laser he’s used to open tricky safe doors before. If he holds it the right distance away, it can get through the armor without burning Damian’s skin too badly beneath him.

As he cuts, he tries not to let his attention stray to where Jason, unable to free himself from Dick’s hold, digs tear-gas bombs from his belt and smashes them in Dick’s face. They don’t cause lasting damage considering the thickness of the cowl, but the force is enough to make Dick let up and stagger back with surprise.

Jason crouches to regain his footing, swings a leg out, which Dick avoids, and then jumps up and kicks him in the face, which he doesn’t.

Steph is already peeling the armor to the side before Tim’s stopped cutting and slaps two portable defibrillator patches on Damian.

“Clear!” she barks, activating the charge.

There’s a sizzling sound, and Damian’s body bows upward.

Steph begins CPR, while Tim monitors their patient.

Two minutes pass, rife with grunts and curses from the fight behind them. Dick’s voice echoes in the background.

“You’ve always been jealous.”

“I’d blame getting whammied by Eros’ arrows for the cliché, but you’ve always had the lame one-liners.”

“That why you spent your childhood trying to be me?” he smirks.

“Someone’s got an ego—but then, everyone already knew that.”

“Still not responding,” Tim says through gritted teeth.

“Going to try adrenaline,” Steph says. She’s got a syringe of epinephrine at the ready, and without ceremony, jams it into the part of Damian’s thigh not covered by gear.

As she starts another round of CPR, Jason and Dick continue to trade punches in the background, until Dick somehow gets a hold of Jason and hoists him upward, then twists and throws him face-first onto the ground.

“Come on, Dami!” Steph grunts.

Tim checks his pulse again and frowns. “Still don’t like this pulse.”

“Plan B then.” She’s got another syringe now, this time amiodarone. “If you die on me, you little shit…”

Jason grabs a handful of dirt and chucks it in Dicks’ face, putting him off-guard for a moment and allowing Jason the time to get to his feet. Then he’s running, sliding down to take Dick out at the knees before leaping up with a knife.

“You think it’s ego?” Dick asks, edging to one side to avoid it. “Let’s look at the evidence then.” He captures Jason’s descending arm and twists. “You jumped into my costume—” He uses the leverage to put Jason on the ground, “—into my home—” Jason knocks his head backward into Dick’s jaw, forcing him to let go, but only long enough for Jason to turn around before Dick grasps him by the throat, “—stole my father,”—He tightens his grip, “—my friends—” Jason is forced back and downward, “—my girlfriend.”

Bracing himself, Jason slides his arms upward and out to break through Dicks’ grip on him, follows up with a palm to his abdomen and staggers to his feet. He barely gives himself a pause before jumping and kicking Dick in the face with both feet, even as it propels him back to the ground.

It barely fazes Dick, who’s already stalking back over to him.

“And on top of that, you got yourself killed and turned into a martyr that could do no wrong in everyone’s memory. Even when you’ve fucked up, you get let off with everything.”

Jason spits blood on the ground. “I’ve got stints in jail and Arkham that say different.”

“And you should have stayed there,” Dick growls.

Jason flips him off, but Dick is there again, grabbing him by the front.

“Monsters like you need to be locked up.” He grasps Jason by the throat. “You’re just as bad as every piece of shit you ever locked up. Just look at what’s going on now.” He tightens his grip. “All of this is happening so we can stop you from fucking our brother.”

Tim’s stomach churns at that.

Is that what he actually thinks?

“How messed up is that?” Dick mocks, putting himself right into Jason’s face.

Jason snarls. “He’s—not—my—brother!”

There’s a violent flash, as the Red Hood suit panels explode at their highest frequency and send Dick flying several meters away.

He doesn’t get up again.

In the same instant, there’s a sudden flash of light from overhead as the Batplaneappears out of nowhere, and Damian shoots into a sitting position, gasping and cursing.

For a moment, nobody moves, trying to process everything that’s just happened.

Beneath the lenses of his mask, his eyes are wild and he whips his head around, before croaking, “Where’s Cutter? Don’t tell me you lost her.”

Tim snorts as he and Steph fall back from him.

“Typical,” he mutters.

⁂

Once Alfred has Dick loaded into the Batplane—heavily sedated lest he wakes up mid-flight—Jason and the rest of the motley Bat crew stumble back to the Batmobile.

“Well, that sucked,” Steph mutters.

“The last time we had our collective asses handed to us like that, the Joker tried to throw a dinner party,” Jason agrees.

“Ugh, so glad I missed that one.”

“Given the fact you are all in sub-optimal condition, I will be the one to drive us home,” Damian announces.

“Nice try, demon baby, but I’m driving.”

“Father would not be pleased with an outsider driving the Batmobile.”

“He’ll be less pleased if I let a twelve-year-old drive.”

“I’m fourteen!”

“You just got resuscitated. We’re not trusting your reflexes.”

Damian grumbles mutinously.

“You’re just lucky it was your left arm and not your right one Dick totaled,” Tim tells her quietly.

“Lucky?” Damian sniffs. “I tol—”

“If you say ‘I told you so’, I swear to god, I will tranq you again,” Jason growls.

“You will not,” Tim interjects, “Not after all the trouble we went through to save his life. Which we’re still waiting to hear a ‘thank you’ for, by the way.”

“Why should I thank you for letting the perpetrator escape?”

““On the bright side, at least we didn’t have to deal with Ivy on top of all that,” Steph muses. When Jason and Damian shoot her identical unimpressed looks, she shrugs her uninjured side. “What?”

Batgirl and Robin climb into the car. As the doors close, Damian warns, “Try not to get us killed, Brown. I’ve seen you drive.”

Jason rolls his eyes and follows Tim to the spot where they parked earlier. The younger man is being worryingly silent, but Jason has a feeling he knows what it’s about.

How much I screwed up, probably.

The redbird tires kick up dirt with the force Tim uses to spin them around and toward the main road. Jason reflexively grips Tim’s hand over the gear stick, not out of fear or apprehension, but just reassured at skin contact after their latest ordeal.

Tim apparently doesn’t feel the same.

“Damn it, Jay, we’re not reenacting the end of Thelma and Louise,” Tim snaps with a little more bite than usual. “I need my hand to drive.”

Jason immediately relinquishes his hold, ignores the spark of hurt and something else that leaps in his stomach as he forces himself to lean toward the passenger side door.

Tim notices and then softens. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to—”

“It’s cool,” Jason replies quickly, not wanting to seem like it actually bothered him. He pounces on the first thing he can think of to change the subject. “I can’t believe you’ve seen Thelma and Louise but not Casablanca.”

“What is your obsession with that movie?”

“It’s a classic representation of a bygone era in cinematic history.”

“And I’m supposed to be the nerd in the family…”

“The toys all over your room would confirm that.”

“You mean figurines.”

“I rest my case.”

They side-eye each other, but Jason can see the way Tim’s mouth is twitching like he’s trying hard not to smile given the circumstances.

What I wouldn’t give for him to actually smile at me.

The thought isn’t as out of left field as earlier in the week; Jason supposes he’s just acclimating to the weird stuff Eros’ blood is making him say. Tim’s pretty good about not taking any of it seriously at least.

“So, I have questions,” Tim says after a while, eyes flicking back to the road.

“Starting with who or what the hell is wearing Carrie Cutter as a costume?”

“That—and what’s the deal with those swords?”

“Eros did say they could change form into other weapons.”

“Not talking about Cupid’s swords,” Tim grunts, in that same exasperated tone Bruce always uses when he knows Jason’s being evasive. “You. Those blades you had came out of nowhere. So I’m guessing that’s not part of Eros’ infection. You’ve had access to them for a while.”

“They’re not exactly something I can whip out in the middle of any fight when things get dicey,” Jason defends. “Only works against a certain kind of foe, which don’t show up often enough for you bat-stalkers to get a good look at them.” He pauses. “Actually, I don’t think they even show up on cameras, so it might be that.”

“Not answering the question, Jason.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Tim makes a choked sound and his cheeks and neck go red in what Jason expects is frustration, so he takes pity on him.

“It’s a long story, okay? None of which I really want to repeat right now,” he scowls. Not telling him they’re powered by my soul, something tells me he’ll take issue with that. “All you need to know is they only show up in the presence of true evil.”

“True evil,” Tim muses. “So, when they disappeared while you were fighting her…?”

“Carrie was back in the driver’s seat. And crazy doesn’t always mean evil, I guess. Never tested it before.” He pauses to think for a minute. “I should really try them out on the Joker some time.”

“Magic swords…” Tim shakes his head as they speed over the Kane Memorial Bridge. “Not my area.” Then he frowns and shoots Jason a look. “Are they why it didn’t work on you?”

“Huh?”

“Her sword. She stabbed you with the gold one, which I figure is analogous to the golden-tipped arrows. It’s the same thing she did to Dick with the lead one. But you were immune.”

“Thankfully. I don’t know what that was, and I wasn’t exactly expecting it.”

“No shit,” Tim says, and suddenly he sounds harsh again. “You weren’t expecting anything because you turned around to check on me.”

“You were in trouble.”

“I had a plan! I always have a plan.”

“Yeah, I saw your plan. It involved electrocuting yourself.”

“To get Dick off of me.”

“That’s the worst plan ever.”

“Better than you getting stabbed, Jason! If she’d used a normal sword on you instead of the diviners, you could have…” Tim trails off, shakes his head and glares at Jason. “I know you’re not exactly firing on all cylinders lately, but that was a really stupid oversight.”

Jason opens his mouth to retort, and then pauses as something occurs to him.

Tim’s not angry with him, but at himself somehow. Like he thinks it's his fault.

How the hell did he end up coming to that conclusion?

“Hey, stop that,” he orders. “You can’t blame you for this. It’s like blaming a girl for being attacked because of the clothes she’s wearing.”

“This isn’t the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

Jason’s hand gravitates back to Tim’s, resting gently on top as he grips the gear-shift.

They sit in silence for a while, discomfort filling the small space. It’s not until they make the turn-off toward the hidden entrance to the Cave that Tim speaks again, taking up their conversation from before.

“Whatever kept you immune is probably down to what Eros did to you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. He’s not immune himself, remember?”

“Right. She said that, didn’t she? I could have to do with your super-secret swords.”

“Still not the time to talk about that.”

“Fine, fine…back to the fight. Clearly it’s possible to hurt her when Carrie’s in control instead of whoever’s hitched a ride in her body. So how do we keep her in that state long enough to take her down?”

“Other than mentioning Green Arrow? That did something.”

“We could ask Oliver to make a trip out here.”

“Great idea. If she kills him, it’s one less rich asshole in the world.”

“Jason!”

“Kidding, kidding…”

Except not really, because Queen’s a douche.

“Let’s just…unpack everything. Her behavior, her mannerisms, things she said…”

“The crazy and the crazier…”

“What was that thing she mumbled when she stabbed Dick?” Tim wonders. “It sounded kind of familiar.”

“It’s from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“What?”

“The play,” Jason enunciates and when Tim still looks nonplussed, he adds, “by Shakespeare?”

The younger man shifts uncomfortably. “I sort of…zoned out of most of those classes.” Jason shoots him a disgusted look and he raises his free hand in defense. “What? Half the time I was exhausted from patrol the night before, and the other half—” He makes an exasperated noise. “It was needlessly confusing. Language has evolved since then. Also, all the plots are ridiculous.”

“I’ll say it again. You’re a heathen. I don’t know why I like you.”

“Because you’re infected with the blood of the god of love?” Tim suggests, and though Jason knows he’s trying for a joke, there’s something tense in his words.

He feels like he needs to reassure him. “To be fair, you were my favorite before that.”

“I was…what?”

“As much as it’s possible to have a favorite pain in the ass,” Jason continues thoughtfully. “And next to Cass, of course. Just because I’m pretty sure she’s everyone’s favorite.”

“Of course…” Tim repeats faintly.

“But yeah, you’re definitely less annoying than the rest of the brood. And you forgave me for almost killing you those times, which is pretty cool of you.”

Silence meets his explanation, and he glances over to find Tim staring at him, mouth agape.

Way to sound like a kid with a crush, Todd. Great job.

“Hey, watch the road,” Jason snaps, ears heating up.

Tim clears his throat and gives a minute shake of his head. There’s another taut silence as they pull into the Cave garage and he puts the car in park.

Jason stays silent, letting Tim brood with his thinking face on; just watches him with what feels like a stupid look on his face until Tim shakes his head and they get out of the car.

“So a nameless mythical deity that possesses people and likes to quote Shakespeare?”

“I admit, it was kind of odd and out of the blue for her to say that,” Jason agrees. “Maybe she was trying to be dramatic. I mean, she butchered the delivery anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, in the play, that part’s about making someone fall in love, not overtly causing them to hate other people.

Tim is silent for a few moments, parsing Jason’s explanation.

“Okay, so she was trying to be clever?” he suggests. “Or, whoever’s wearing her is being clever.”

“Maybe they have an appreciation for the Bard.”

Tim ignores that. “It just seems so out of place with everything else that happened in the fight.”

“Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar,” Jason points out.

“And sometimes it’s a stick of dynamite.”

As they head to the stairs, they pause in front of the containment unit where Dick is lying unconscious, divested of cowl and tools. That’s a preventative measure since there’s no cure for the arrow that they know of, and no telling what he’ll do upon waking.

Watching over him, arms crossed and a forbidding expression on his face, is Bruce.

Shit. Daddy’s home.

When he hears them approach, the original Batman turns to face them, expression thunderous.

“This isn’t going to be good,” Tim murmurs under his breath, lips barely moving.

Jason snorts with laughter. “Well, damn, babybird, you made me miss my curfew.”

Tim groans. “Not now, Jason.”

Before they can do more than blink, Bruce is in front of Jason, fingers clenched in the material above his body armor, lifting him enough that Jason finds himself balancing on his toes.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bruce demands.

“Bruce, stop it!” Tim yells, trying to put himself between them.

“Stephanie’s injured! Dick is out of commission—Damian could have died—!”

“As if that’s different from any other night,” Damian mutters from across the way where he’s beadily watching Alfred treat Steph’s fracture.

She shushes him and elbows him with her good arm.

“This is exactly the kind of recklessness you wanted to prevent when you contacted me!” Bruce continues. “What was the point if you were just going to go out anyway?”

“Bruce, it wasn’t Jason’s idea,” Tim insists, trying to put himself between the two of them. “It was mine.”

Bruce pauses, somewhat caught off-guard. It gives Jason the opportunity to free himself and step back, arms crossed. “Way to shoot first and ask questions later, B.”

“You were told to wait,” Bruce growls at Tim.

“For what?” Tim argues with unexpected vigor. “A few more hours and you’d have been here, but what would it have changed?”

“Dick and Stephanie wouldn’t be injured, for one.”

“You don’t know that,” Jason interjects.

Tim nods in agreement. “Even you couldn’t have accounted for Cutter actually being possessed by some god. It might even have been much worse if you had been there.”

“Tim has a point,” Steph pipes up. “She could have whammied Batman—well, she did whammy Batman, but not the broody Batman. Things might have been worse than a broken arm.”

Bruce shoots Steph a look like he doesn’t know whether to be more irritated by her speaking up, or by the implication that he would have been taken out in the same fashion as Dick.

“Basically, I kind of think we got off easy. In the long run,” she concludes sagely. A beat later, she giggle-snorts. “'Got off’.”

Damian wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I honestly can’t tell if this is your base sense of humor or if Pennyworth put you on the good painkillers.”

Impaired or not, Steph’s clearly making enough sense to make Bruce think twice. He doesn’t look like he likes that, either, and Jason can see by his face he’s deciding on a different tack.

“You still should not have removed Jason from the premises. Red Hood is not cleared for fieldwork until this situation is resolved, and you put everyone in danger by allowing it.”

“Excuse me? No one ‘allows’ me to do anything,” Jason scoffs.

Bruce ignores him. “You couldn’t have known what heightened adrenaline might do to this infection.”

“It was a chance to get the diviners back, and I wasn’t going to waste it.”

“And now you’ve compromised any element of surprise that we had,” Bruce points out. “Cupid and whatever entity is backing her now knows you’re looking to get them back. This was incredibly short-sighted of you, Tim. I’m disappointed.”

Tim’s mouth thins, something flashing across his face that Jason doesn’t quite catch, before he straightens his back and does his best to loom right back.

Jason swallows, feeling a little hotter beneath his gear.

That’s hot. Why is that hot?

Bruce ignores it, continuing on.

“And it’s not just Tim who should have known better. Damian, Alfred, you do know better.”

“I am quite sure the man I raised isn’t presuming to chastise me,” Alfred replies calmly. “Just as I’m sure any and all attempts I may or may not have made to dissuade the young masters would have been as summarily ignored. Much in the same way similar attempts with their father have been rebuffed all these years.”

Bruce clenches his jaw.

Score one for the Englishman.

“What good does knowing better do me if no one listens?” Damian mutters, clenching his fists.

“Just wait ‘til you’re taller, little man,” Steph soothes.

“Shut up, Brown.”

“And you did not see the state Master Jason was descending into,” Alfred says, not as an excuse but as fact. “This was a judgment call made with the information we had at the time.”

“Information based on Tim’s analysis—Tim, who has been compromised about this from the beginning!”

Tim’s cheeks flare red and there’s something that looks almost like panic in his eyes. Jason doesn’t know the reason for it, but he knows that he’ll gladly fight the guy who put it there.

“Yeah, screw you, B,” he snaps, putting himself directly in his face. “It’s not like there’s a manual for this sort of thing. “Tim’s doing his best.”

Bruce shakes his head, mind clearly made up.

“Jason should be quarantined again—” He ignores their noises of protest, “—Tim can stay close by to offset whatever symptoms manifest, but outside. It’s safer that way if the infection progresses in such a way where he becomes dangerous.”

“No!” Tim argues. “Right now, the best place for Jason is next to me—without a bulletproof glass wall between us. We’ve already seen that the more often we’re separated, the more debilitating the symptoms become.”

“That won’t always work.”

“But for now it does.” Tim crosses his arms. “I’m staying with him.”

“Then you’re officially benched.”

“If you think either of us going to sit back and wait for you to solve a case that involves us, you’ve taken one too many blows to the head,” Jason snorts.

“Don’t you see, Bruce? Working the case—it’s helping Jason occupy himself. Otherwise, he’s literally tearing his hair out.”

Damian opens his mouth and Jason snaps a finger in his general direction. “Make one crack about my hairline, baby demon, and I swear I’ll—"

“It’s clear to me that Jason is not the only one compromised—Tim, you shouldn’t be in the field either. I don’t want to see you out there, is that clear?”

“You’re not going to stop us.”

“Tim.”

It’s one word, said with enough warning as to remind Tim exactly who he’s talking to.

“Okay, fine, you probably could stop us, physically,” Tim allows. “But we won’t make it easy. And then we’re both out of here and screw your help.”

“Just listen to yourself! You’re no longer sounding like you,” Bruce says, narrowing his eyes. “That’s enough to confirm everything I’m saying.”

“I’m not sounding like me because I’m not just going along with everything you say?” Tim counters. “Newsflash, Bruce, you don’t always know what’s best. Jason’s been saying it for years and everyone ignores him, but maybe he’s on to something!”

“Tim!” Steph protests.

He throws up his hand in disgust. “You know what? Fine. We’re benched. We won’t go out in the field anymore. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on this case, I can still investigate from a distance. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean we have to stay down here with you!”

He turns on his heel and stalks off back down the stairs, his cape flaring behind him in such a Batman-reminiscent fashion that Jason would laugh if he weren’t so stunned at what’s just transpired.

He’s not the only one having trouble processing, it seems.

Alfred sighs in a way that’s supposed to sound like exasperation, but which everyone knows masks worry. Damian and Steph are actually open-mouthed. Bruce looks like he’s trying to remain blank-faced, but there’s calculation going on in those eyes.

Jason doesn’t want to know what that calculation is coming up with.

Instead, he shakes his head and jabs his thumb in Tim’s direction.

“I’m with him,” he says, already walking away. “Because of the whole…you know. Infection. But also, you’re a douche.”

“Jason—”

“Let them go, Master Bruce,” Alfred says. “I believe we all need to take a few moments…”

Damian says something, but honestly, Jason’s no longer listening, too intent on going after Tim.

He’s feeling something strange and buoyant, something that’s edging dangerously close to validation.

It’s a novelty because he’s always the scapegoat, the family screw-up and cautionary tale. No one ever defends him—it’s almost required that everyone have a caustic comment for him by now, and normally he takes it in stride, gives as good as he gets.

But Tim, of all people, is on his side this time and that’s put a ridiculous smile on his face.

That smile vanishes when he gets down the stairs and he sees the way Tim’s expression is twisted, not with righteous anger, but with guilt and doubt.

“He’s right,” Tim murmurs, pacing back and forth. “This isn’t like me.”

“Are you kidding?” Jason asks, trying for levity. “That was amazing.”

“You’re just saying that because I told off Bruce, and you’re happy when anyone tells him off.”

“Well, yeah. But also, how many people have the balls to stand up to the Big Bat? Present company excluded.”

“He’s just so…” Tim trails off, gesturing wildly to encompass his meaning, and then throws down his hands in annoyance. “You know what? There isn’t even a word.”

“Been saying that for years.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s wrong. We should have waited. We didn’t even get anything out of this.” Tim runs his fingers through his hair, agitated. “Except for him getting pissed off at you. And you’re the one who he’s supposed to be helping.”

Jason shrugs. He’s too used to that sort of thing for it to be a surprise. He moves in closer to Tim, filled with the urge to protect him somehow.

“And I’m supposed to be helping, but I just made it worse.”

“Bullshit. This whole situation is fucked up, it’s not all on you.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you weren’t hopped up on Olympian blood.”

“Okay, then, how about I go take a swing at B? I’m always up for that.”

Tim snorts. “I don’t think one thing necessarily cancels out the other.”

But he’s smiling now, expression going clear and relaxed for a minute and for a second Jason sees the kid as he is when he’s not pretending to be red robin or Tim drake Wayne or dutiful son or terrifyingly clever master planner that goes head to head with Ra's al Ghul.

And Jason can’t help really help himself anymore.

Maybe it’s the infection, or the lingering adrenaline from the fight with Cupid, or the argument with Bruce. Or just the way Tim, fresh off standing up for Jason against everyone else, is looking at him just then.

But before he can really think better of it, he’s leaning in and covering Tim’s mouth with his.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

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squiddybeifong · 5 years

Text

A Page Turner

Fun fact: if you go to @ravensflockofrobins and search Bette’s name, there’s one (1) post at the time I’m posting this. And it’s not even a shippy thing rip this drowning paper boat

She didn’t know what compelled her to take a quick vacation, exactly.

Maybe it was the lack of crime. Maybe it was the disgustingly scorching heat that summer brought. Maybe it was that she needed a break before she accidentally zapped the TV and the horrid romance movie that Starfire was playing.

Whatever the reason, Raven made up her mind. opened her eyes and moved Silkie off her lap, teleporting to her room. She considered her options and started a particular spell, one that she’d admittedly used many times before. One of the few (very few, incredibly miniscule) perks of being Trigon’s daughter: interdimensional travel.

Sliding through the dimensions as easily as flipping pages of a book, a particular timeline called to her. It smelled of bookstores and crumpled daisies and Raven blinked as she stepped into this particular universe.

The Golden Age, she reminded herself, taking in the not-so-golden scenery around her. The world around her was the sheer definition of nostalgia: the colors muted in the most charming of ways, the whimsy of the backgrounds (she simply took the buildings fading into space at the edges as a perk), the blocked off rectangles where additions would be written.

Surely more of a comic book feel than the animated life she knew, but it felt right.

What didn’t feel right was the lack of yellow. Sure, some of the stores had signs with bold letters the color of pineapple flesh. And, yeah, the lemon paint job on some of the cars was impressive. But aside from the sprinkling of pollen from the just barely blooming flowers, Golden Age Gotham wasn’t the most golden of scenes.

Honestly, with such a heavy title this ‘golden age’ was falling flat.

Raven pulled her cloak around herself and sunk into the shadows, casually setting out to explore. She avoided the areas she already knew and delved into the thick of the city, grateful that their emotions didn’t press on her as strongly as her own dimension’s did. Food vendors, students clamoring on the sidewalks as they got the most of that wonderful time between school being let out and their parents calling them in for dinner, even some rats who scurried out from the sewers, all but sunbathing as they dragged dropped pieces of food and cigarette buds back to their hovels.

Not too different from the Gotham Raven knew, but she still stayed hidden, watching all that she could. A pout involuntarily curled her lips at the sight of her favorite pretzel food-truck, replaced with a dual newspaper and ‘shoe polishing on the go!’ stand.

There was a simultaneous groan from all the kids as a clock rang, their disappointment mingling with the adults’ sighs of relief.

Raven felt the muted mix of their emotions, her lips quirking up at how similar people were in their complaints, dimensionally different or not: “Man I can’t wait to get home,” a mustached man breathed as he observed his freshly polished loafers and tucked the afternoon paper under his arm; “What? You’re betting on the Yankees? Get outta here, ya freakin’ jag!” an incredulous teen cried at his friend, shoving his shoulder in horrified disbelief; “I swear, Debbie, all he ever says is ‘Aspic��s lookin’ good as you.’ Not tasty, or even pretty, but good! That carrot cake looks good but my aspics are gorgeous. The nerve of that man!” a big-haired woman bemoaned to her pencil skirt-clad companion.

Raven’s head tilted in confusion; what was aspic?

Before she could dwell on whatever food trends she obviously wasn’t privy to, the Bat symbol lit up the sky. At its appearance the crowd seemed to hustle home even quicker, the conversations muting to a murmur as the clouds darkened over Gotham.

The symbol was bright against the sky; one flicker, only a simple fix if this dimension was the same as her home. Raven hummed at the sight and melted even further into the inked on shadows, following the panels as she landed just beyond a bank.

An explosion sounded halfway across the city.

Half of the officers hesitated and the other half jumped into their cruisers, speeding towards the pillar of smoke. The rest glanced among themselves and followed. Raven frowned at them; it was probably a diversion.

Sure enough, she felt the giddy nerves of the bank robbers inside a few seconds later. The Titan laid her cheek in her fist and merely watched as they scrambled about, her head turning as she felt Batman’s unmistakable aura enter the page. A brow raised at the youth of his visible face, then her eyes widened to a comical size.

Oh. Oh.

The demoness froze in her spot, watching as Batman went gliding over the rooftops. But Robin wasn’t by his side. Neither was either of the Batgirls that she knew. No, this one must have been one she’d never met. Surprisingly, she didn’t display the Bat symbol on her chest at all; in fact, her crimsons and emeralds were a stark contrast to the rest of the comic, but her fit was odd.

Not quite made for being Batgirl, but inexplicably belonging in this golden age. How odd.

But her hair…

Raven swallowed the air in her throat. Well, that certainly answered why this place was the golden age.

Admonishing herself at the beginnings of a schoolyard crush that she could feel starting, Raven shifted in her spot. This wasn’t her dimension, she could potentially indulge with screwing everything up, right?

So, despite wanting to keep a low profile as she watched them fight, the empath turned into a bird and phased in just behind them, watching as this Batgirl fought. Not quite as endlessly sarcastic as Steph, not as eagerly critical as Babs, not as intense or skilled as Cass, but as excited as any Batgirl for the ability to fight alongside the Batman.

She didn’t even seemed fazed when bolded words popped up in unison with their punched and kicks. Both she and this Batman slid along the BAM!s, BIFF!s, POW!s, and WHAM!s that described their attacks without any hesitation, and within a few pages all the bank robbers were apprehended.

The blonde nodded at the police as they cuffed the men, tossing her pine cape over her shoulders. “Aw, too bad Robin missed this,” Batgirl grinned up at the cloaked vigilante, her bright smile making Raven’s heart flutter.

“We should team up more often, Batman!”

He glanced down at his sidekick for this fight, “Batwoman needs you far more than I do.”

The rejection didn’t deter her, although her grin did falter. Her hands went to her hips, “Then at least until Robin’s arm heals up. You shouldn’t have to fight alone.”

The dark knight’s head tilted in silent agreement.. “Hmmm, very well.” His masked eyes took in the groaning bodies and the sound of approaching police sirens, “Go continue patrol while I find out what these robbers know about that explosion.”

“On it!” She gave him a salute and sprinted off, a flash of blonde hair and christmas colors. She got a block away without trouble, her eyes glancing at the police as they zoomed by and her fingers curling into fists as she noted a bird following her.

Batgirl frowned. She zig-zagged through the panels but no amount of speed lines or ducking into the fading buildings stopped the little avian. So, the Gothamite dove just behind the city’s library. The secluded setting made the bird sloppy and the hero tossed two smoking batarangs, leaping and pinning the raven in place. There was a shift like one page flipping to the next and the bird’s eyes turned red. Batgirl gasped and jumped back, her fists up in a fighting stance as the bird morphed into a woman.

Blue eyes blinked, skeptical and amazed at the plum cloak and stunning lilac eyes. No, not a woman. A teenage girl, just about her own age. But Batgirl didn’t let this mystery girl’s looks perplex her for too long; she immediately sized Raven up, carefully watching how the shadows followed her every move.

This little excursion certainly wasn’t going to plan but something in the Gothamite’s face made the demoness decide to be honest, consequences be damned. A sigh escaped, then she awkwardly met the blonde’s gaze, “Uh, hello. I’m Raven.”

A stormy glare was her answer, then a terse introduction, “Bat-Girl.”

They both jumped as the Bat’s comm blared out. The empath let out a sigh, her words a bit strained, “I promise I’m not a threat.”

Bat-Girl narrowed her eyes and took out her comm. She kept the mystic out of the screen’s view as she nodded at Batman’s instructions. She noted how Raven paused as she quickly gave Batman her report, her stoic features blanching at the sound of the hero’s voice.

Raven bit back a shudder at how young the dark knight was, Certainly not quite to the point of being the gruff, sandpapery tough guy that he was in her dimension. For the first time Raven wondered if the Golden Age was on the same age basis as her reality was.

Bat-Girl signed off and tucked her comm away, muffling the one link back to the BatCave under three layers of pockets. Raven shook her head at the familiar sight, quietly musing to herself, “Figures Bruce would still be so obsessive this early on.”

She just barely dodged the kick Bat-Girl aimed her way, strands of black magic swirling around them and pinning the mortal to the bricks. Raven stayed out of arms’ reach and narrowed her eyes at the hero, trying not to spend any time taking too much stock in how defined her bare forearms were.

Refocusing, amethyst eyes searched the vigilante’s face. Raven crossed her arms over her chest, making sure that her magic didn’t squeeze the blonde to the point of discomfort. “Does Robin exist?”

A derisive snort was her answer, “You mean birds?”

“I mean Dick Grayson.”

Bat-Girl’s eyes glared behind her mask, the muscles in her arm twitching. Raven took that as an invitation to speak, “I’m a part of his team.”

“In the future?”

Raven shrugged, “Something like that.” She considered pulling back but the pulse of Bat-Girl’s emotions kept her close. The demoness raised a brow, “You don’t seem too surprised.”

“This is the golden age,” Her voice raised half a pitch as she let out an exasperated laugh, shifting under the tendril of magic pressed painfully snug to her throat. “We still get a narrator during our fights sometimes.”

She looked her animated visitor over, “Didn’t think Richie would team up with a…” She paused, taking a moment to consider just what kind of powers described Raven. “A spirit of some sort--no…” Her lips spread as she guessed, “A demon?”

“You’re perceptive.”

Blue eyes rolled but Bat-Girl didn’t stop the cocky grin from brightening her face, nonchalant to the hold she was in, “And you aren’t a threat.”

“I’m not.” The shadows that held her slunk away, “Dick and I are heroes in our dimension.”

She could feel the concern seeping out of the heroine, but still the blonde let out a sigh and rolled her fingers. If this Raven character really was a teammate of Richie’s, then perhaps she could let her guard down just a little. Although Batwoman and Batman would be disappointed in how quickly she was trusting this pretty face.

Bat-Girl rolled her jaw, “Well in this dimension I’m Bette. Bette Kane.”

Recognition lit up amethyst eyes but Raven didn’t speak and Bette didn’t question her. In fact, the not-yet retconned hero seemed to be opening up to the prospect of Raven being in her dimension, if just for a visit.

So the empath decided to test her luck. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, “Would you mind showing me around, Bette? I’m not used to having to turn the page.”

“Pfft,” Bat-Girl snorted and Raven got the impression that she realized her words weren’t a metaphor. Instead, the teen readjusted her mask and motioned for Raven to follow, “Already got one sack of feathers to look after.”

“Well this one can take care of herself just fine.”

Her sleeved shoulders straightened at Raven’s words, affronted at the mere idea of not helping someone she could, “Doesn’t mean you should.”

“Spoken like a true bird, Miss Kane.”

Bette raised a brow, the movement moving her mask. But Raven didn’t explain and she shrugged, “Anywhere you want to see?”

“Anyplace with you there is fine with me.”

Bat-Girl ran a tongue over her teeth at the demon’s shameless attempt at flirting, trying and failing to keep a straight (hah!) face. An idea came to mind and her eyes lit up, watching as Raven’s gaze flicked to her mouth.

“You’re okay with other birds, right?”

When the superpowered teen merely shrugged she continued, “There’s a bunch of nests over on the gates around Wedgwood Museum. Gotham Academy’s music class has been holding their practices out in front.”

Raven smirked at that, “Taking advantage of tourist season?”

“Hey, tubas are expensive!” The blonde chuckled as she motioned for the Titan to follow her, the two of them easily gliding past the stiff backgrounds. Bette grinned at her flying guest as a flick of magic kept her grapple hook from falling out of a crumbling rooftop.

The sound of music got louder as they neared the gated house. Violet eyes shut as she tried to place where she’d heard that jazzy tune before, her attention on Bat-Girl as she murmured, “But they’ve really been getting better. Sometimes I like to listen in, feed some birds when crime is pretty low.”

Raven clicked her tongue at that. “Well I have some free time for a picnic, if you’d want.”

She glanced at Bette from the corner of her eye and felt that urge to be honest curl in her stomach again. A breath quickly escaped her before she was reminded of Batman’s instructions, “I read ahead. Apparently the robbers bought off the Riddler for a few of his bombs. Just a classic distraction case so they could get away clean.”

Bat-Girl tilted her head as Wedgwood came into view, lengthening her grappling hook until she skipped onto the ground. The two made their way towards the house in silence as Bette mused over her words, the mage’s shadows mingling with the tree’s shade to keep them from being spotted by any civilians.

“A picnic does sound nice,” Bette aimed a lazy smile Raven’s way, fiddling with the green triangles that adorned the ends of her sleeves. A gasp escaped as a disk of black magic appeared under her feet, lifting them up and levitating up to the large tree that hung just outside of Wedgewood’s gates.

Bat-Girl leaned against the mystic’s shoulder as they got settled just beyond the tree’s branches, hidden by the tulip tree’s waxy leaves. The tuba-heavy refrain started up again and Raven let herself get comfortable, clinging to the calming nerves that washed out of Bette. Her eyes slid open at the wave of nervousness and she turned to the Gothamite, “Is something wrong?”

She started to pull away, horrified that she might have made Bette uncomfortable. Bat-Girl’s hand wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from going too far. The blonde licked her lips, her words coming out faster than normal, “No, this is okay. But do you have to go after this?”

“Yeah, it’s probably getting late back at the Tower.” The cloaked teen sighed, sliding her hand down until her palm pressed against Bette’s. She weakly smiled, a lilt in her voice, “But I can always come back.”

Bette squeezed their hands, “Just to see me?”

“Just to see you.”

“Hmm,” Bat-Girl felt her smile widen as she guessed, “Perks of being a demon?”

She felt a heat curl up her face as Raven’s eyes flicked from her eyes to her lips and back again, “Something like that.”

#betterae #bette kane #raven #all the robraes #<-- means ALL of them #my writing #at first i was like.. fluff!!! then i was like no.. it’s e x p o s i t i o n time #i just?? i dont even know anymore. i’ll admit i have never read the golden age comics and i don’t know bette’s personality that well so im #wingin it. i feel like it came out pretty good tho #despite the fact that bette is bat-girl with a hypen. like none of the others separate it but she does so /shrug/#i assume the golden age was a few decades ago?? like big hair and yankees obv exist and hopefully aspics were still in season then #anyway PSA bc that sole pic of the batgirls really shows off bette’s arms. Like WOW dc we are sapphic af u can’t expect us not to notice #they went out of their way to put some definition in so appreciate it dammit. Actually you know what?#can i assign fanfic homework? go to randys robrae blog and search bette. go to the only post that pops up and look at those forearms #like holy sappho batman!!#visible arm strength AND a v neck?? sign rae tf up for krampus’ workshop bc there’s a goth elf that she’s got her eye on

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kneesheee · 7 years

Text

Did it mean anything?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, DEPRESSION, CANON TYPICAL VIOLENCE, REFERENCES TO UNDERAGE SEX, PROSTITUTION, IMPLIED/REFERENCE TO RAPE

Lamia Marley Wayne was many things. She was a former Gotham street rat. She was Jason Todd’s best friend. She was Bruce Wayne’s first adopted daughter. She used to secretly be the second Batgirl. She was international supermodel. She was Cyan.

She was absolutely fucking done with this family of hers. -- Her story started years ago when she met a small street rat with bright teal eyes harden by the life they live trying to pickpocket the money she had just pickpocketed from Dopey Don. She didn’t barely spared him glance except for the glance at his eyes before her fist connected to his face.

Honestly, it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

They shared more punches and kicks and curses with each other than anyone else. And if you asked, they’d always say the other started it. He tried to steal from her (with a 50% chance of succeeding) and she’d catch him (with a 50% chance of failing) and then she’d beat the shit out of him while he defended himself accordingly but only with enough punches and kicks and grabs to restrain her and make her back off.

It wasn't until Pig Head Patrick tried to make a move on her did everyone realize (and this included the two of them) that the fights between them were more friendly than antagonizing. Like a street fighting version of Catwoman and Batman without all of the sexual tension.

Patrick had caught her while she had been distracted in her scheming (one of those Uptown Gothamites ventured to far away from their castle) and she was planning on making her move on that pretty diamond bracelet on the lady’s wrist when he nabbed her. She put up a good fight, but she was small, starving, and exhausted and he eventually overpowered her. She nearly gave up all hope until her golden brown eyes caught sight of incredibly familiar teal eyes. She gave a small, almost unnoticeable nod and her teal eyed friend came flying out of the shadows armed with Batty Bryan’s favorite bat and swung it right upside Patrick’s head. He went downwith a painful yelp that was followed by another as the two of them both aimed a hit at his private.

They escaped down the side street (with Lamia still managing to slip off with the diamond bracelet) and eventually came to a stop at one of her various hideouts. It was awkward for a couple seconds before she mumbled out a genuine thanks.

“Names Lamia, by the way,” she included as she placed the bracelet in the box with the other valuables that she played to go sell the next morning. She had turned her back to him a sign of clear trust breaking one of the number one rules of the streets. Don't trust anyone.

“Jason,” the boy replied after a while. She peeked over at him and noticed the way he was looking at Meghan. The only working girl besides Christina and Erica and Rocky that fought in their heels for their respect and own protection. She was also one of the only girls around that cared about the children running around. Always bringing food for them and making sure they had some place warm to stay during the winter months.

“I'm going to regret this,” she sighed mentally. She didn't say anything, but grabbed the bracelet and handed it over to Jason before pushing him over to Meghan. She watched with a small smirk as Meghan caught him before he fell and how her mouth dropped open in shock at the bracelet he presented her. Her smirk only grew wider at the embarrassed smile and blush that made its way to his face as Meghan kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his hair as he slip the bracelet on her wrist like a true gentleman.

When he came back with the blush still on his cheeks and mock-glare thrown her way at her amusement, they both really understood that it really was the start of a beautiful friendship.

After that, they played lots of schemes together and causing mayhem all across Park Row. Even to be street rats, the two of them were incredibly beautiful. But they were also pain in the asses that were hard to catch. JT and Marley were what they were called. Little shits is what they were mainly named. Bonnie and Clyde is what the working girls called them. Neither cared what they called them, so as long as they did not catch them is all that mattered.

You couldn't take on one of them without expecting the other to come out of nowhere and beat the shit out of you. It happened before plenty of times. The older kids that staked “claims” and called “dibs” on Lamia tried cornering Jason once only to get a bag full of rocks falling on their heads and faces as she stood above them on the fire escape of Grandma Perkins’ apartment building. Or the time when Jason’s female fanclub decide to mess up that pretty face of hers because she was able to used her looks to get better deals. And Jason showed up and started flirting and distracting them only for Lamia to give them all nice and pretty dates with her fists because fuck that, JT. These littles bitches have pocket knives. They were fully prepared to slice me up.

They were best friends. But they were also more than that. They were the only things they had left. His father was a deadbeat and his mother was dead. Her mother and father were both assholes that tried to sell her for drugs and end up meeting their maker when she instead hid on the fire escape under their apartment before she took off. Some nights she can still hear the gunshots ringing in her ears.

She was the one that came up with the plan to do something big to get better pay. Batman was the only logical choice. You couldn't get near any of the other big bads around Gotham that ventured into the East End without ending up in one their little games. She planned for something simple like a batarang. Jason did one better and aimed for the tires.

She had been sitting on top of the third tire calculating the worth of each one and which dealer they planned on selling them to when Jason had came back with a scowl on his face. And not too far behind was the Bat himself.

Lamia scowled herself and threw a glare over at her partner in crime, “Dude, you never suppose to lead the victim back to the hideout.”

Jason scoffed, “He followed me. He wants to me to put the tires back.”

And that just won't do.

“Alright, B-Man, the only way you're getting these tires back is if you pay for them. And I don't care how tough you are or how quick you can get these wheels back, I’ll follow you all around Gotham until I get my payment,” she sneered. She was bluffing, but no one ever called her out on her bluffs.

“Oh,” Batman stated as if he was talking to some child.

“Yeah, oh, you big boob. You gotta be rich considering that car is built like a freaking tank and from the glimpse I had at it earlier, you must of had to weapons built in it. Especially that taser skin that shocked the shit out of Pig Head Pete when he touched it. That’s dumb by the way. You set that up to have your wheels snatched.”

“Yeah, that was stupid,” Jason chimed in from where he was leaning on the stack of wheels by her legs.

“So what is the price for my ignorance then,” Batman inquired. And Jason and Lamia had to really stop for a moment because what the fuck? Batman can literally be doing anything else, but here he is discussing tire deals with two notorious street rats.

Then Lamia looked at Jason and she remembered the look on Jason’s face when he saw one of the working girls. The look on his face when she used her looks to play over males and sometimes females hormones to get what she wanted without giving up anything. Or when the look on his face when he saw how the older girls succumbed to system of the streets and took claim of their own corners. Then she remembered how Jason looked when one of the other kids mentioned being hungry and too tired to do anything but not trusting going to sleep because they didn't know if they’d wake back up. How one of their hideouts became a safe haven and Meghan and Christina and Erica and Rocky and Punzie and Noelle sometimes came over and taught them how to read and how to write and how to even spell their names. And suddenly, Lamia knew exactly what she wanted.

“Help. Real help. They are so many kids around her that need help. And hope and love. You’re not helping us by fighting all of those criminals. The real help comes in when all of us kids around here can sleep peacefully at night without having to worry about if it's our last night and who we’d have to steal from in the morning. Real help comes when Meghan can finally get enough money to pay for nursing school and Erica can stop working her corner because none of the desk jobs called her back. When Rocky and Cristina can open the daycare they wanted and Punzie and Noelle can bring in enough money to feed their own kids and pay their bills. That’s what you can pay us.”

Jason glanced up at her and a look was shared. She hopped off the tires and helped him as he put them back on the Batmobile.

“We might not be big and bad like you, old man,” Jason started.

“But if you show up around this end without trying to make a better chance, we’ll find a way to run you out and make you pay, she finished before the two of them walked away.

It came to a surprise to them and near full blown out breakdown from her when Bruce Wayne came around to adopt them. Punzie was the one to convince to give it a go. She was always encouraging the kids around to go to orphanages and foster homes anything to get them off the street. Jason accepted it and he refused to leave her behind. So she accepted only after she conned Bruce into giving away a couple hundreds to the working girls that had flaunted and fluttered around the two of them making them presentable. They gave away all the stuff they managed to steal and kept hidden away to Doc and extracted a promise that he kept the safehaven running with his crew. Lamia even gave them her book of schemes of that she written down from one of the notebooks Noelle slipped her with a list of who were the easiest to steal from, alleys to escape through, hideouts they had, who to avoid, and which working girls deserved their respect and which ones didn't (Jason hadn't liked that part, but Lamia had been damned if she showed them respect when they treated her gum under their heels because she lived on the streets). --

The two of them struggled to fit in with the Wayne name. Their years on the street making them brash and rude and downright snarly to anyone they didn't know. They eventually mellowed out, but they didn't lose the edge the streets gave them. Honestly, the two of them spent more time with Alfred than they did with their new dad though the two of the would later realize that it was because he was the Batman and he was busy. But he still managed to find time to spend with them. Just not a lot, but enough that they could see he was trying.

It didn't even take long before the two of them started training. Jason to be Robin and Lamia because she was used to fighting and running and she had all the excess energy and anger bottled up. So they trained and trained and took their anger and frustration out on each other before Jason was flying across Gotham as the new bird in town. And then Lamia joined him as Barbara eased away from Batgirl and focused more on being Barbara Gordon.

Gotham had two new kids in town. Kicking ass and taking names later all across her rooftops.

In the media and in the public, the two hated being Wayne kids but they played their roles well. Lamia more than Jason because he wanted to spend all of his time reading and she wanted to spend all of her time wondering which rich prick she could slipped something completely unnoticeable off of and how much it’d cost one of the kids on the streets if she dropped it off to them. (She didn't succeed most of the time. Bruce and Alfred frowned upon such behavior and were always watching to make sure she kept her hands away from the prudes’ belongings).

It was a joint and conscious decision to fuck their older brother’s life up whenever he came around. Dick was well a dick. He was incredibly rude to the two of them because the costumes and names they were sporting. Because he was treating them like unwanted kids caught in the middle of a nasty divorce he was having with their dad.

She ran him away from the manor more than his arguments with Bruce did. No one picked on Jason in that manor but her. And if he thought she was going to let some circus brat treat her Jace like shit, then he had another thing coming. And that's what she told Bruce and Alfred after they questioned her on why she dyed Dick’s hair bright pink with orange highlights after he called Jason street trash.

The two of them flourished at Gotham Academy after they cut down on all of the fights they had been in and after Jason gave Jeremiah Sionis a breakdown of how to respect women after Jeremiah made a comment about how Lamia had probably gave her body up while they had been staying on the streets. And they flourished even more when Lamia punched Sionis in the face and broke his nose,

“Even Daddy’s money can't fix that, Jeremy. The only thing I gave away on the streets were beatdowns for comments less than that remark. Remember that the next time you mention anything about me or any of the girls down in the East End.”

She had been suspended but Janus Cosmetics ended up under Bruce’s control, so she figured it had been a win. Even after his dad went crazy and criminal and Janus Cosmetics ended up being Jeremiah's inheritance (and the weird moment when Jeremiah decided he liked her feistiness and they’d be a beautiful couple).

It wasn't long before someone noticed how insanely beautiful the two of them were. Their looks on their own rivaling with their older brother and father. Companies all over wanted a Wayne for the face of their products, but they couldn't find Richard to make the deals. Bruce Brucie declined most of them and Jason didn't even bother to reply. But Lamia took it with favor. She quickly dominated the modeling industry and became America’s Sweetheart by giving away most of her money to the betterment and rebuilding of Park Row. And it was delightful. With the drug lords too busy trying to establish their rule in high class areas of Gotham, it kept a lot of attention off the East End which made it easier to rebuild some of the buildings in the area.

Lamia got Bruce to pull some strings and she and Jason both were the ones (with a shit ton of body guards even though they didn't need them regardless of their training) to track down Rapunzel Towers and Noelle Olaf and give them the deed to their new daycare center. And that same night, they both came back and placed their tags to let people know that the daycare was under their most noticeable protection. Lamia with the standard golden batgirl symbol and Jason with the famous Robin symbol.

One thing was certain though was that one never went too far from the other. She had a modeling gig in Metropolis… guess who was coming with her? He had test to make up for fourth period because he had been out with the flu… guess who was staying with him? She had detention or he had detention after school… guess who was finding a way to get into detention with the other. They were inseparable even the kidnappers knew that. Even Gotham’s Rogues knew that… ask Penguin what happened the one time he managed to nabbed Robin. She had him dancing like Happy Feet as he tried and failed to dodged her fist and the swings from his own umbrella she managed to grabbed before Batman called her off. Or ask Scarecrow how hard Robin punched him in the face enough to knock off his hat and break off his mask when he sprayed Batgirl with his fear gas. He had the wrong bird if thought Robin was going to be afraid of him.

They could survive without the other. They weren't codependent on each other at all. They just like being in each others presence by each other’s sides.

They were teammates. They were partners in crime justice. They were best friends. They were family. -- It was after another one of Jason’s horrible visits to the Teen Titans that they came to the decisions to start their own superhero team. Modelling gigs had been slow because Bruce made sure they understood that she was still a kid and that school did exist. The two of them were the top of their classes. Jason more so than her because he had a passion for school and learning that she didn't even see when they were running around Crime Alley.

It had been the weekend before school started back after Fall Break when he returned from his visit to their dear older brother. He had scowl that matched the one he wore the first time she caught him stealing from her and she punched him. He didn't say anything to Bruce and Alfred, but she managed to draw the story out of him. They treated him as if he was invisible even though the Robin suit was brighter than all of their futures and only paid attention to him when he did something wrong. When he did something JasonRobin and not DickRobin and Lamia can admit that she was insanely protective of Jason. Of Bruce. Of Alfred. Even Barbara (she looked at Barbara with stars in her eyes. She was so cool but the stars dimmed and exploded into black holes whenever she makes a comment about Jason never being Dick Grayson. As if anybody would want to be that asshole).

“I hate going there. And worse because you're not there because even though Dickhead doesn't say anything to me when I'm there; he makes them leave me alone when you're around for some reason,” Jason muttered bitterly.

“He’s scared of Barbara and if he insults me, then I twist his words around, make it believable and tell Barbara that he insulted Batgirl in general,” Lamia shrugged. Her words didn't even bring a small smile to his face like she hoped. “Forget the Teen Titans. Who would want to be apart of thier stupid group anyway? Seriously, who's bright idea was make their headquarters a giant T? That's not suspicious at all.”

Her words brought out something that she was not expecting. She wasn't expecting at all. Her instincts were screaming at her to abort, but before she could Jason dropped a bombshell.

“Let's start our own team,” he told her as if he didn't just state that he wanted to start a team of teen partners even though there was already a group for that and neither of them liked working with anyone that didn't wear the Bat Symbol or worked in Gotham (Nightwing not included).

No, there was no way she was agreeing to that. One of the had to be the mature one and dammit if it had to be her then--- “Okay. Let's do it. I know the perfect place to have a headquarters.”

And that's how the two of them started brainstorming their own team even getting Bruce in on it because they weren't going to be like Dick and started a team out of spite and need to prove anything. One thing Bruce taught them as heroes they had to learn how to accept help even if he couldn't seem to follow that advice himself.

While Dickhead had his team in New York in their T, Lamia came up with the idea of having their team in Happy Harbor hidden in that mountain that Bruce had once used as warehouse. He didn't look shock that she knew about the location, but he did managed to look shock when Jason pulled up the schematics on the Batcomputer and the two of began outlining what they planned for it look like. And even more shock when they pulled up potential candidates for their team.

Connor Hawke-Queen Age: Fifteen Alias: Argent

Kyle Rayner Alias: Ion (Green Lantern) Age: Fourteen

Christopher Kent Alias: Superboy Age: Thirteen

Dove Lance-Queen Alias: White Siren Age: Fourteen

Artemis of Bana-Mighdall Alias: Artemis (Wonder Woman) Age: Thirteen

Bruce only chuckled. Trust his children to already be ready to start their own team and have most of the details already worked out. He also made a mental note to tighten the security around of the files he has on the members of the League. The knowledge of their new partners hadn't even went mainstream all of them still in training.

“No speedsters?” He questioned mockingly as he moved closer to help them with everything. Both of them snorted.

“Unless Barry or Wally have an aged up kid somewhere, then no. Besides, we have a White Siren. Someone trained by Black Canary which means they also learned some moves from Wildcat. Personally, it don't get no better,” Lamia stated as she expanded the size of the training room.

It didn't take long for their secret hideout to be built. It was also one of the best kept secrets of the League on Jason and Lamia’s request because they didn't want Dick to come and throw a hissyfit about it before it even started.

It took a little convincing for the other mentors to agree to the plan, but Lamia and Jason basically told them that didn't plan on being like the Titans. Spending weeks on end in their little city and barely visiting the mentors and forgetting their roots, and to make the point even more known they agreed that the Zeta Tubes that Bruce included in the blueprints were synced to the transporters in the Watchtower and Den Mothers Black Canary and Wonder Woman.

“So what's your name, kids,” Green Arrow asked as he fussed over the stupid hat that was perched on top of Connor’s head. Jason and Lamia shared a look. Definitely getting rid of that.

“We were thinking the Outlaws,” Jason commented daring anyone to argue on the name.

“Why,” Flash had questioned.

“Being vigilantes is illegal for one. And because we didn't follow behind Nightwing and joined his little merry band of misfits and turn our backs on our mentors. Like Outlaws,” Lamia shrugged. “It's not really a good reason, but we’re not changing our minds.”

And just like that, the Outlaws were born and took on fighting crime in Happy Harbor. And it worked for everyone as if fate made the conscious decision to make sure they all spent their time there. Summer had officially started so Jason, Lamia, Dove, Connor, and Kyle had more time on their hands to spend in Happy Harbor. Especially with Lamia taking on more gigs in the area to make up for her time there and Jason never went without her.

And the friendship that between Brucie Wayne and Ollie Queen was made way for the incredible friendship between Oliver’s son and stepdaughter and Bruce’s children. In an effort to not have Artemis there by herself, Bruce paid the way for Kyle and his mother to switch to Happy Harbor which included giving Miss Rayner the job of being the live-in Den Mother of the mountain. He even paid for one Meghan Hills to be the live in nurse for their medical wing. It ended up including Chris to switch to Happy Harbor High School on a baseball scholarship which was just so Artemis still wouldn't be by herself when Kyle had to take his trips to space.

Of course, the Outlaws received a lot of backlash from the Teen Titans whenever the two teams end up meeting up in the Watchtower for diagnostics exchanges. But they all just let the insults roll off them and ignored the older kids. Though that was because the last time they gave them attention, Lamia punch Roy hard enough in the face for his comments about Connor that she dislocated his jaw.

“Argent could have caught my fist before it even got close to his face. Guess they were wrong to give you the name Speedy,” she had scoffed before she walked off and joined her teammates to go back to the Mountain.

Like the Titans, the Outlaws were a family. Unlike the Titans, the mission of being heroes and proving they were independence didn’t stop them from enjoying their lives. Outside of the hero business, they lived normal lives or as normal as they could get. Dove like her mother took on a love for flowers and she joined the gardening club at her school. Connor, despite his aloofness, took on being a playboy like his father except his relationships lasted longer. They were all good relationships but they ended whenever the girls got too comfortable and thought they had succeeded in getting a hand in Queen’s Family Fortune. Artemis ended up joining the swim team at their school. Chris did end up joining the baseball team and enjoyed it. He had more fun when practicing in the mountain with Kyle making constructs to help him with his batting and pitching.

They had scheduled movie and game nights. Sleepovers at each other houses. There was even the time when they all became each other's first time.

They were teammates. They were partners in crime justice. They were best friends. They were family. -- Lamia had been the first person that Jason told about his plan to track down his mother. She had wanted to go, but he managed to convince her to stay. She did have a big show to do that week so she stayed behind but only if he promised to let her know when he made it, when he found the woman, if he ran into any trouble, and when he was on his way back. And he made her promise to tell Bruce after three hours which gave him a better head start on him.

And three hours after he left, she told Bruce and waited patiently with Alfred for the two of them to return home. It wasn't until the fourth day of the showcase when she received the news about Jason’s death, she broke down and left in the middle of the show to rush home because she couldn't believe it.

While she was on her way home, she was desperately checking her phone for messages from Jason to say that it was some prank. Only to find out that fate decided it hated her because messages began pouring in hours late of Jason telling her how he and B had tracked down his mother. About her shady past. About how he planned to help her. About how B told him to stay behind while he chased after Harley.

That was when she could tell the messages switched from him typing on his phone to him switching to the voice command that connected with his mask that finished his messages as he put his phone back in his utility belt. And then more messages came. His mother had played on his emotions and vulnerability of wanting to know her. She had sold him out to the Joker and stood and smoke a cigarette while Joker beat him.

Lamia couldn't believe the words on the screen. Just like she couldn't believe that Jason was dead even after she was standing and crying over his body.

Jace, how could you forget the number one rule? Don't trust anybody.

Lamia lost herself. She didn't make anymore appearances. Why should she when her number one supporter was gone? Most of her time was spent huddled in Jason room or staring absently out the windows of her own room. Or she’d go to the mountain and stare at the pictures of Jason in his Robin suit that littered their walls. And damn sure putting more effort in ignoring Dick because how fucking dare he try to play big brother now!

And Batgirl? She became more frightening than Batman. And he was scaring the shit out of everyone in his anger. Her punches became harder and words became sharper and deadlier. She made more criminals run just by the cold fury in her heart. Especially when that fury got punched to an all time high when she caught word of what Joker did to Barbara.

Nothing had been more satisfying to her when she had fell off the map locked in an abandoned apartment in Old Gotham where she beat the hell out of Joker every day with a crowbar. And whenever she got tired, she remembered how pale and cold and bloody Jason had looked like on the medical table in the Batcave. How peaceful despite the way he was killed in his coffin. She remembered the despair in Barbara’s face when it became clear that she’d never walk again and she got pissed and energize all over again. And her swings only got harder every time that damned clown laughed.

Honestly, she couldn't remember much about that week but she did remember the moment when she was bringing down the crowbar for another swing and Flash… Her Uncle Barry pried the crowbar out her hands as her Uncle Hal (to Bruce’s horror) lifted the Joker away. She remembered how she broke down in her Uncle Barry’s arms as he carried her away and back to the Batcave where her dad had grabbed her and wrapped his cape around her as she cried into his arms.

Jason was her teammate. Her partner in crime justice. Her best friend. Her family.

How could she managed to live without him? -- Time passed as fickle thing to her. Days became weeks. Weeks became months. She didn't seem to notice at all.

Batgirl had retired after word got out about her beating the Joker that landed him a coma. A coma that lasted for two months before he was thrown back into Arkham. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

She didnt noticed anything outside of her little bubble. She moved only enough to eat, shower, and use the restroom. And the few things she did manage to concentrate on was the Outlaws as she lead them from the base because it was the only place besides the manor that she could bask in the presence of Jason and focus on the life around her. It was as if he was still by her side in his Robin uniform leaning against the console trying to look cool and inconspicuous as he stared at Kyle and Artemis with hearts in his eyes.

She didn't even notice when Tim came into the picture. In the deep part of her subconscious, she registered his presence as the Scrawny Stalker. But on the outside, it was as if she didn't even noticed he existed. And the same could be said when Cass was brought into the picture. She didn't even blink when Barbara asked her how she felt about letting Cass be the new Batgirl. Just let her do her thing.

She was completely bitter in the her mind as she subconsciously took note of how Dick doted on his newest siblings. How she wanted to go over to him and tear him apart limb by limb because he never treated her and Jason like that. He never looked at Jason liked he was precious jewel worth keeping locked up and safe. She hated him for it. Especially when he came forward with that stupid nickname Little Wing. The one he gave Jason after the two of them let their guards down and trusted Dick when his only time trying to be a good sibling produced a nickname only to ruthlessly throw their trust back in their faces when he got into another argument with Bruce and threw Jason into the crossfire. Lamia had never wanted to kill someone as bad as she had wanted to kill Dick that day. Now all of her murderous tendencies are for Joker, but the point still remained.

But that was her subconscious and she dutifully ignored it.

Her depression went deeper when Maura Rayner. She barely managed to keep up a brave face for Kyle, but she did. Her love and dedication to the young Lantern and her love for Maura was the another lapse in her depression. It didn’t stick and she fell deeper into the recess of her mind whenever Kyle wasn’t around for her to provide comfort.

Maybe it was a respect thing that Tim didn't try to hang out with the Outlaws. Though it was probably because Dick was stealing Tim and taking him on trips around the Titan’s Tower instead. That was fine with Lamia. No one from the Bat Family besides Alfred and Bruce were allowed in the Mountain anyway since before Jason died. It was under mutual agreement to make Nightwing’s life hell whenever he or his friends tried. With the exception of Donna though that was more of Jason and Artemis joint puppy dog eyes and because Lamia was also a fan of Wonder Girl even though Artemis was to take on the title whenever Donna ascended the name.

She remembered the day her subconscious caught up to her conscious and all hell broke loose. She had finally suck up the courage to go down to the Batcave only to see that horrifying memorial and Tim in a Robin suit. Lamia could feel that rage bubble over the surface especially after she caught sight of the engravement. A Good Soldier.

She didn't recall much of what happened after she released all of her anger, but she vaguely remembered cursing in every language she knew. She remembered attacking Nightwing and Tim as she aimed to attack her dad. She remember how she froze the second the name “Gem” tumbled from Dick’s lips. She remembered how all of her muscles tense with a burst of pure undisguised anger and hatred as it registered in her ears. The nickname that only Jason called her in reference to her middle name. One of the few precious treasures that she had left from Jason. How fucking dare he taint it? She vaguely remembered the punch to his gut that landed Dick flat on his ass. But she vividly remembered with she grabbed one of Nightwing’s escrima sticks and swung it as hard she could and the satisfaction she had when it cracked the glass case. She knew she didn't say much of anything else but she stormed back up into the manner, packed her clothes and belongings and some sentimental items out of Jason’s room and escaped to the Mountain throwing her key to the Manor behind her.

She was done with them.

-- It was after she had some therapy with Dinah and learn to meditate from Artemis did she managed to control her anger and finally grieve properly. It was after the encouragement of Dove and Kyle that she took up training again. So she traveled to the Middle East and tracked down Bruce’s exgirlfriend Talia. If she was going to train, then she was going to train for the best she had to offer. She trained under many people like Lady Shiva, Richard Dragon, Deathstroke even Talia herself. And even though Talia was against it, she went to train with the All Caste. She ended becoming a member, but ended up leaving to return to her friends.

She returned to the hero business, but this time she went by Cyan the color of her magical sword from the All Caste and the magical camouflage cloak that she wore.

It was Chris that encouraged her to make amends with her family and she did so reluctantly. It was around that time that she learned of all of the craziness that had happened while she spent time away. Tim became Robin. He became an orphan and then turned around and got adopted then he quit. And then his ex girlfriend who only had a couple lessons of martial arts from the kung fu dongo in Old Gotham that joined the hero business as Spoiler to stop her dad had became Robin, the girl wonder. Then she ended getting fired and died at the hands of Black Mask. (Lamia couldn't help but to wonder if that was how she would’ve ended up if she had dated Jeremiah) So Tim became Robin again and rumor has it that he plan on starting his own little hero group called Young Justice out in San Francisco since Dickhead and his Titans moved their base to New York and Dickhead permanently left Bludhaven behind. And apparently, Cass found out she was the daughter of Lady Shiva (huh, now I know who the assassin had reminded me of) with her mother proclaiming that her destiny is to one day kill her.

She was so done.

The reconcile was messy and sometimes downright violent especially whenever the cautionary tale of not being like Jason creeps into conversation. Which led Lamia snapping at the breakfast table that no one besides her, Alfred, sometimes Bruce, and the other Outlaws really fucking knew Jason and the next person that says anything out of line about him can't hold her responsible for her actions. Most of the time she and Dick were fighting especially when he tried to play big brother.

“Get the hell out of my way, Dickface. The only brother I have is Jason. So you should stop trying to squeeze into shoes that you could never fill,” she had snapped on more than one occasion.

Her anger and bitterness she had with the family led to her moving permanently out of the Manor and into an apartment in the City Hall District. She barely stayed there, but she had zeta tube built into the basement of building that she bought out and is “under construction”. The security of her home rivaled Barbara, Tim, and Bruce mainly because she spent years studying the security of the Batcave and Barbara’s Clocktower and she learned a good amount of things from the Shadows and a touch of magic though not much she learned from the All Caste kept her “family” out of her home. And she enjoyed the looks she got whenever she went to the Manor and she noticed the frustrations in their eyes and she couldn't help but wonder which annoying preppy song they ended up being forced to listen to whenever they hit one of her firewalls.

Her anger was still there dancing like fire under her skin, but she kept it under control. She ended forming a bond with her new sister and brother. She spent a lot of time with them outside of the suits. Cass and Tim hung onto her every word whenever she spoke about the trouble her and Jason used to get into. They could easily see that his death still affected her after all of this time and felt undeniably guilty for keeping the secret of his existence from her. But they said nothing and complied to Bruce’s orders to not telling her.

Her entrance back into the limelight was one that took the world by storm. It was as if she was preteen again as she quickly ascended back to the top pedestal in the modeling world and having more interviews than days of the year. She dropped the Wayne part of her name though she knew she couldn't escape the legacy, but whenever she was on the runway…. She wasn't Lamia Wayne. She was just Lamia. --

The Red Hood. She had heard many things about the crime lord and of course none of them were good. He stayed away from Happy Harbor and that was fine by her. She had heard of how he beat Tim within a inch of his life and the time he blew up Sionis’ headquarters with a rocket launcher. She heard about the headless drug dealers and many other things. She learned of how he had settled in Bludhaven as the kind of hero that she and Jason would have love when they were kids. She knew that the superhero community did not like him and were planning to take him out without damage to their reputation.

What she hadn't known was that he was her very much alive and not-dead best friend.

She had been visiting the Batcave to use the computer to cross reference information on a drug dealer showing up in in the Harbor when she saw it. Descending down the stairs, the first few things she noticed were her father and her siblings standing around the computer. Oracle was showing on one screen with the not actually dead Spoiler standing slightly behind her. And on a larger screen was:

Jason Todd Alias: Robin, Red Hood Status: Alive

She dropped the tray of drinks she had been bringing down for Alfred.

All eyes turned to her, but she paid no mind because all she could pay attention was the fact that Jason was alive.

“Mia,” Dick called out hesitantly as their father hurriedly closed the tab. Still she paid him no notice. Not even when Alfred, drawn from the sound of the crash, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“How long,” she heard herself ask. “How long have you known?”

No one spoke for awhile. Then her father Bruce stated, “Shortly after he arrived on the scene.”

“I'm not wrong to assume you all knew,” she asked to the room as a whole. At their sheepish nods, she felt her fists clench together. “Why wasn't I made aware of this?”

“I fail to see how it concerns you,” was what Bruce stated.

“BULLSHIT!” she screeched. “Jason is MINES! I should've been the first person you told.”

Bruce paused. And Lamia faltered when she saw the sparks from her fist as her swords fought to be free. She took a deep breath and reigned in some of her anger. Just enough keep it from happening again.

“Why didn't you tell me,” she stressed. Her voice sounded broken and lost to her own ears.

“Mia,” Dick started and nearly paused when her intense gaze focused on him. “He’s not the Jason you remember.”

A snarl made its way to her face at his words, “You don't know the Jason I remember.”

Dick winced because yeah, he sought himself up for that. “I deserve that, but Mia, this Jason kills people. He tried to kill Timmy!”

She scoffed none too gently, “Dick, I tried to kill Timmy. I tried to kill you.”

Tim winced because it was true. He remember the look of pure murder in her eyes when she first saw him in the Robin suit.

“Your connection to Jason leaves clouds your judgement and compromises your safety,” Bruce stated in his Batman voice booking no argument.

“Pot meet Kettle,” she shot back. “Or did you forget about all of the scum that you put in the hospital?”

Bruce growled and glared and if she was the same girl she was years ago… if she wasn't so fuel by her anger and grief these days then she would've flinched and submitted to his every demand. But Lamia wasn't that little girl and even that little girl was defiant. She glared back at him and pulled herself up to full height. Which actually wasn't that much. She was basically the same height as Cass.

“You will stay away from the Red Hood. Thats an order,” he stated effectively ending the conversation.

“Fucking watch me,” she hissed before spinning on her heel and walked right passed Alfred on the stairs. She’d be damned if anything was going to keep her from Jason. Death itself did not managed.

What made Bruce think he could? -- Lamia pulled into Bludhaven on her bike with her cape flying dramatically out behind her. She had a dark scowl on her face that shown even through the domino mask. She looked around the streets before driving down an alley and stashing her bike. Pulling herself onto the rooftops, she put down the box of extra and new supplies and waited. Because Jason was a Bat no matter how long he and how far he flew from the Cavern. And all bats did everything in their power to kick unwanted heroes out their turfs. She pulled out her phone as she waited and noticed the very extensive list of missed calls and text messages just waiting and screaming for her attention. Scoffing, she turned her phone off and gaze out into the city.

It wasn't much. It wasn't Gotham nor Happy Harbor. It didn't hold the same beauty she had for either of her cities. She absently traced the remembrance rune with Jason’s name tatted on around that she got on impulse with the other Outlaws during Dove’s obsession with the Mortal Instruments book series.

“Who are you,” a small voice questioned shocking Lamia out of her daze. She calmly turned her head to the size to see a small girl staring up at her clutching tightly to a phone.

That's right. Jason uses a number for the kids to contact him for help.

“I'm looking for Red Hood. Do you know where I can find him?”

“No,” the girl said immediately. “You're a cape. You're just going to hurt him.” “I'm not going to hurt him,” she denied and lied immediately. She was going to kick his fucking ass. “I need to talk to him. It's important.”

“About what,” the girl inquired.

“None of your business,” Lamia snapped irritated before she took a deep breath. It would do her no good if she pissed the little girl off and that meant she’d probably have to actively search for Jason. And then she can't even promise that she wouldn't send him back to a grave if she had to do that. “Look, doll, I need you to call up Hood so that me and him can talk. And if it makes you feel any better, then you can stay here and listen. I promise not to fight him.”

The girl stared at her phone a few moments before dialing a number on the phone and walking a little further away to speak quietly to who she was guessing was Jason. Few moments later, she hung up but she kept her distance so Lamia could only guess that Jason was on his way.

She felt nervous to what she was going to actually say to him when he showed up. She didn't really know how to feel. Relief and happiness were quite evident, but she was angry and sad and confused. And quite honestly, she was so tired of secrets.

She heard him before the acknowledgement was made. She was glad that she brought supplies because that grappling hook sound horrible.

“Izzy said you had something important to tell me, he stated after a while from behind her. She slowly turned and came domino to domino with the bestfriend she had once loss. He had ditched the red hood and the white streak in his curly hair shined brilliantly. Lazarus Pits, a voice whispered in her head that sound a lot like Talia and Ra Al Ghul. He was taller and buffer than she remembered. He had filled out nicely and it was evident that his thunder thighs he had as a child were even thicker and delicious. The stray thought of how he’d fit into the Outlaw dynamic now flittered around in her mind before she chased it away.

“Yes. First, I want to say, sorry Izzy for lying,” and before anyone could process her statement, her fist connected with his face like all of those years ago when they first met.

“How fucking dare you,” she hissed dangerously. “You left me!”

Izzy froze in her spot. Seemingly wanting to interrupt and hit her back but refraining from doing so because Jason was there and she knew he could handle himself.

“Four years and nine months, Hood. You left me for four years and nine months! Do you know how fucking lost I've been without you!”

“What the hel-”

“SHUT UP! YOU DON'T GET TO SPEAK! NOT NOW! FOUR YEARS AND NINE MONTHS I HAVE BEEN GRIEVING OVER YOU. ON THE VERGE OF LOSING MY FUCKING SANITY BECAUSE I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU BY MY SIDE! I CRIED OVER YOU! I BEAT JOKER INTO A COMA FOR YOU! I GAVE UP MY LIFE BOTH OF THEM FOR YOU! I NEARLY KILLED ‘WING AND ROBIN FOR YOU!” Her voice rose with every word until she was screaming at the top of her lungs. She forced herself to stay rooted in her spot. She wouldn't continue to attack him. Not with the little girl on the roof that could catch the brute of it if they were careful. And if it came down to it, careful was going to be out the window.

“After everything we have been through together, why didn't you tell me? Why did I have to be last person to know? Forget everyone else. You’re my brother. You're mine. I thought we were family! But all of them knew about you before I did! I swear to the gods of Olympus that I want to kill you right now.”

“G-”

“Its Cyan now,” she snapped. She glared even harsher at him, “I have so many things I want to say to you. I had a whole speech ready when I was on my way over here. But honestly, right now I don't know what to say but to wonder if all of those years together meant anything to you? Because they meant everything to me.”

Tears were gathering in her and streaming down only to be captured by her mask. She clenched her fist together. “Be honest with me.”

“Fuck,” he growled. The two of them seemingly forgot the little girl standing on the roof with them. Jason began to pace around in agitation. “You don't think they meant anything to me? Those years with you by my side mean more to me than anything else in my life. You don’t know how hard i've been beating myself and stopping myself from traveling over to Gotham and the Harbor to come see you. Tell you that I was back.”

“Then why didn't you,” she cried out.

“Because I'm not the same person you remember!” he yelled back. “I'm not the little kid form you memories. I'm a monster now. A killer.”

“I don't care what the hell you think you are,” she spazzed. “I don't care if you’re a monster. You don't think I look myself in the face and think the same thing every time i snap and black out in anger? You're my best friend, Red. You always have been and I don't care if i have to come to say every day to stick it in your head. You are mine and I am yours. And nothing can change that.”

He shook his head and took a step away from her as if he was going to leave. She shot forward and latched onto his wrist as she looked him in lenses of his mask as if she was looking into his eyes.

“I am so fucking happy that you're alive and that you came back. I don't want to ever lose you again,” she pleaded. Her voice choked up on words and she left the sob stuck in her throat out as Jason pulled her into a tight hug. “I missed you so much and I'm just so happy you're back. Please. Please. Don't leave me again.”

She could feel him shaking as he pulled her closer and she held onto him just as tightly. “Never again, Gem. I promise.”

They stayed that way for awhile longer before the sound of a camera clicking drew their attention to the little standing to side looking sheepishly at them. “The other kids wanted to know what was going on. Im posting it on the website.”

Jason groaned softly before chuckling and pulling away from her. He looked over her shoulder to the box still sitting where she had first stood before she punched him. “You brought gifts?”

She scoffed lightly. Her whole being still overcome with emotions, “A peace offering if it came to the point of us beating the mess out of each other and throwing each other off the buildings.”

“You were prepared to lose,” he teased and she let a smile dance across her lips. “If anyone was going to lose, it was going to be you.”

He smiled at her. “Wait here, let me get Izzy back home and we can catch up.”

“I’ll like that,” she smiled back. The long suffering amount of anger that burned like fire in her veins simmered down and cooled as she finally felt true happiness in her being after so long.

Because Jason was back and everything was going to be okay. She finally had her family back and that was all that mattered.

#batfam imagine #batfam x reader #batfam au #Jason todd x oc #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth #Stephanie brown #barbara gordon #kyle rayner #teen titans #red hood and the outlaws #alternate universe #my oc

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tetsuyakuu · 7 years

Text

Tarnished Hero || Jason Todd x Reader||

《 A/N: This was written to ease my mind of boredom. Don’t know if there is going to be a part two. Even if I was going to add another part what was I going to base it off of. Anyways enjoy. Also sorry for spelling mistakes and grammar.》

Gotham City the most corrupted place I have ever been or seen. It wasn’t better than Metropolis nor were the people, most of the citizens in Gotham are crooks and psychopathic villains. I fit in the category of being a crook and I work for a psychopathic villain. I should address him as a supervillain though because he is one. Black Mask, my boss, isn’t just a simple villain you come across and live. He is great with melee weapons and even better with hand-to-hand combat. Black Mask taught me to fight with firearms and had me train all sorts of fighting styles. Once my skills were perfected, Black Mask brought me into the world of corruption. By the time I was eighteen years old, I was his personal bodyguard. I was at his disposal.

“I just got word. Boss is on his way with [Name] so look sharp.” One of the mobsters adorning a black mask spoke on the comm sending the message to all the others armed with firearms. Batman pressed on his earpiece and hid in the shadows watching as the men walked around aimlessly. “It’s a shame. That bodyguard of his, you know [Name], she’s just a teenager.” The mobster closest to Batman spoke setting his gun down on a table. “So what, you got a soft spot for that twit?” Another spoke nudging the other with his gun. “No, but she can end up dead or something. I mean who can be so close to boss?” Batman listened carefully to the conversation.

If the girl was so close to Black Mask, Batman wouldn’t have to always track his men down and just find this girl to get details. “You need to focus more on this job rather than a girl who can take care of herself. She could kick Batman’s sidekick out of Gotham if they ever threatened boss.” Batman waited until Black Mask showed up at the warehouse where the drugs were supposed to be delivered. The doors to the warehouse opened and more of Black Mask’s men came in followed by Black Mask himself and the girl [Name] by his side. Unlike her boss and the men around her, [Name] didn’t bother to hide her appearance. The female had [h/c] hair and [e/c] eyes. She looked around the area to see if everything was in place. She walked to a table that had various drugs and weapons in order. Black Mask walked behind her and examined the items himself and looked back at his men. “I want everything placed in the trucks. [Name], scan the perimeter and come back when you’re finished.” She nodded her head and did as she was told.

Outside was peaceful and the silence put [Name]’s mind at ease. Not hearing Black Mask bark orders anymore relieved the headache she developed on the ride here. [Name] looked around once more and decided she should go back in the warehouse. On her way, she reacted to gun shots and yells quickly enough to notice that Black Mask was in danger. Yes, her boss was in danger and that panicked her. As she ran to the warehouse, her mind was racing with questions. Nobody in the right mind would attack Black Mask when he was armed with new weapons. But she did hear from the other guys about Batman and Robin. She also heard another name that was repeated: Red Hood. “Quick! Batman is here!” Great, just great. This was her first time that she would have to fight the Batman along with Black Mask’s men at her side. At least, she wasn’t fighting him alone. She ran in the warehouse and dodged the batarang that zoomed at her hitting the wall with a clanking sound. “That was close.” She muttered to herself and found Black Mask shooting at Batman who effortlessly dodged the bullets himself.

[Name] wondered if Batman aimed the batarang at her on purpose or was just bad at aiming. She grabbed the weapon on the floor and ran to Black Mask’s side. “Sir, we need to escape if you want the items safe. Your men and I can handle this.” She reassured, but her boss was a stubborn man. “Are you telling me to run away!” Black Mask asked rage getting worse by the second as the gunshots ringing within the warehouse never seized. “Sir, I’m trying to keep you safe. That’s my job. Now let me do it.” With a growl, Black Mask turned his back on the female some guys following after him to make sure he gets to the safehouse with all the items. “[Name]! What do we do? Batman can-” [Name] held the batarang in her hands and scanned the area listening to the mobster beside her ramble on. Her mind working fast to find a solution where she doesn’t have to confront the man who seemed to destroy every mobster in his way. “Retreat!” She yelled and watched as Batman charged her way. [Name] quickly dodged his grip and saw barrels with flammable chemicals inside on her left side. That’s it.

The men listened to her order and ran off in different directions so they won’t lead Batman to the safehouse. Her brilliant idea would have worked if Batman hadn’t tackled her to the ground. With a grunt, [Name] let go of the batarang in her hand and gazed up at Batman’s mask for the first time. His eyes glared daggers at her, but he wasn’t as intimidating as Black Mask because she knew Batman didn’t have it in him to kill someone. “Where is Black Mask heading?” His deep voice echoed in the empty warehouse. She shrugged her shoulders looking off to the left. “I don’t know. Black Mask doesn’t tell me anything.” Batman tightened his grip on her wrists and she winced in pain. “I wasn’t looking for an excuse. Tell me.” He ordered and [Name] looked up at his mask again, “I said I don’t know. Can’t you hear or are those ears of yours just for show?”

A gunshot followed by a grunt from Batman reached her ears and that was an opening for her. The bullet found its way into Batman’s shoulder and she dug her finger in that wound to put him in greater pain. With a yell, Batman was pushed off of [Name] as she made her way to the batarang, but she fell face first into the concrete when Batman grabbed her by her foot. He pulled her toward him. She let out a sigh and roundhouse kicked him. He staggered backward and [Name] grabbed a gun off the floor that was left by someone and shot at the barrels that leaked the flammable substances. Batman ran after her, but to keep some space between the masked man and her she aimed the weapon at him and began firing. Some bullets landed while others missed completely. “Hey! You got a lighter?” She asked the mobster who came back to ‘save’ her looking at Batman. Her gun stopped firing, but was still trained on him.

The mobster walked over to her his gun also aimed at Batman, “No, but I got this.” He handed her his cigarette and she took it. “This will have to do it.” She looked up from the cigarette to land on Batman and his killer glare. “It was nice meeting you. I heard so much about you from Metropolis, but I never knew you were this strong and intelligent.” She watched the liquid slowly reach her foot, yet pulled away before it got on her shoe. “It’s also nice to know someone is willing to get rid of crime, but knowing Gotham it will birth others. You’re not immortal, so why waste a talent like yours to fight for a city that will never go back to its golden days?” She awaited his answer, but he didn’t respond, “Typical. You question others wanting answers, but when others do the same you don’t answer. A hypocrite you are, Batman.” With enough said, [Name] dropped the cigarette in the liquid and watched as flames erupted. She pulled back from the heat, the flames divided Batman and herself. Batman watched as she and the mobster retreated for good. “Alfred, contact Superman.” He ran out of the burning building and got into the batmobile driving quickly to the batcave to find more about Black Maks’s personal bodyguard, [Name]. “Master Bruce, is everything alright?” Alfred asked on the other side of the earpiece. “I remember Clark mentioning a name at one of the meetings not too long ago. Her name was [Name].” Bruce responded making sharp turns down the streets of Gotham City. “Oh yes, [Name] [Last Name]. She was an intern for the newspaper Mr. Kent worked at. Although she went missing a few years ago. Is something the matter?” Bruce sighed, “I believe I met her tonight. She’s Black Mask’s personal bodyguard.”

“Thank you for helping me out back there.” [Name] said running next to the mobster that looked at her. “Black Mask would have killed everyone if he found out you were taken by Batman.” She smiled at the man and nodded her head, “Yeah, he would have.” “I don’t think this situation is a laughing matter.” A voice interrupted their conversation and on [Name]’s right she saw a man with a red mask that covered his whole head running with her. [Name] and the mobster stopped running and the other guy stopped as well with a little distance between them. “It’s Red Hood!” The mobster yelled pointing his gun at Red Hood. [Name] believed that she was cursed. In one night, she met the Batman and is now standing in front of Red Hood. Who’s next? Batgirl? Robin? Doesn’t matter, she just needed to get out of this sticky situation. “You’re useless to me, so I’ll end this quickly for you.” Red Hood shot at the mobster without a second thought. “Hey!” She yelled at Red Hood who killed her savior. “That man wasn’t useless to me.” She was on guard and stood in a defensive stance. “Where is Black Mask?” He trained his gun on her.

She was dead. Yeah, this guy wasn’t like Batman. He had no problem killing. What was her proof? The dead mobster on the floor. “If only you were with Batman, you should know that I don’t know where Black Mask is.” She watched as Red Hood walked towards her and she stood her ground. Not wanting him to know she was afraid. “Where is he?” Red Hood asked again and [Name] internally groaned. Is every vigilante in Gotham City deaf or something. [Name] reached the back of her, underneath her shirt where the batarang was. “Okay, fine. Black Mask has this hideout near the docks. It’s his safehouse.” She said and Red Hood placed his finger on the trigger. “Thanks, doll.” Before he could pull the trigger, [Name] grabbed the batarang and threw it at Red Hood. The batarang caught his brown jacket and made contact with the wall. “Cool.” She whispered and saw Red Hood trying to take the batarang out of the wall. “I see you’re in a dilemma, Red.”

[Name] watched in amazement as Red Hood still tried. “What did you do to make it this stick in deep.” She had no answer for him. “I just threw it. Is it really that strong?” She asked looking at the batarang. “Screw this.” Red Hood began to fire at [Name] and she dodged the bullets. Thank goodness that Black Mask had her train when under immense fire or else she would have died like her friend. “Well it was nice meeting you as well, Red, but there’s a bed calling out to me and I don’t want to keep it waiting.” Still dodging, [Name] hurried out of the alleyway without looking back. Red Hood stopped firing at the female and sighed, “Now what do I do?”

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #x reader #jason todd x reader

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sqoiler · 5 years

Note

THe Director's cut for into the spoilersverse please! and a star too!

ok i’m gonna copy-paste the fic and like. comment on sections. i guess.

so the idea for this fic came from me realizing i have a bunch of alternate stephs. someone had asked me about a black canary steph and i liked the idea but didn’t want to do a full fic with her, so i was kind of like “hey! what if the stephs met each other!” and here we are.

i think the “mischievous twins” thing was supposed to be a reference to the batman beyond dee dee twins.

The shape sat up, and Spoiler absorbed the dark cape and pointy ears, the purple flashes on the suit, and the golden curls tumbling down her back.

Spoiler met her own eyes.

“Shit,” the other girl said, and she stood, brushing off her knees. Spoiler lowered her bo-staff and straightened, looking at herself curiously. “Did you pull me here?”

“No,” Spoiler said. “Lex Luthor made a machine….”

“Say no more,” the other girl said, and Spoiler noticed a yellow bat emblazoned on her chest. Her mouth fell open.

“Batgirl?” she gasped. She vaguely recognized the suit from the images of the other timeline that she’d seen, months ago.

“Yeah,” Batgirl said. “And you’re Spoiler. I haven’t been Spoiler in years, but you make it work. I like the half-mask, it’s nice.”

“Thanks,” Spoiler said, feeling a little ridiculous. “Sorry, I’ve never met an alternate version of myself before.”

“Me neither,” Batgirl admitted. “Although you always hear about it, don’t you.”

“Yeah,” Spoiler agreed. This was seriously surreal. Seeing herself–same height, a little longer hair, but standing so confidently? Spoiler blinked and told herself not to compare. They were different, after all. “So, Batgirl, huh? How’d…how’d you land that?”

“Cass gave it to me,” Batgirl said, shrugging. “When B died. But he’s back now, don’t worry.”

“Huh,” Spoiler said, and she remembered the mentions of Cass as Batgirl, too. “So where’s Babs, then?”

“You mean Babs is still Batgirl in your universe?” Batgirl asked, eyes wide. “This universe?” She gestured around them. Spoiler nodded.

when i made this fic, i didn’t INTEND to slam dunk rebirth/new 52, but that’s what happened. i figured when i started that i needed the two “canon” stephs, and then i made a list of the other stephs i wanted to include (some of which were nightwing!steph & robin!steph) but i had to whittle it down so there’d be the same amount of characters as spider-verse. not because this is a spider-verse au, but because i figured that the gag was already there in the title/concept, and it seemed like a good amount of characters–not too many, or too little. speaking of that, every character ROUGHLY corresponds to a spider-verse one: rebirth steph = miles, preboot steph = peter b. parker, cluekid = peni, dart = spider-ham, canary = gwen, and batman steph = spider noir.

“Yeah, nobody else has ever been Batgirl,” Spoiler said.

“That’s so fucking weird,” Batgirl said. “Babs hasn’t been Batgirl since before I started out, and that was like five years ago. You mean she didn’t get shot?”

“She did, but there was an implant,” Spoiler said. “So she’s better.”

“Wow. That’s great but–how do you survive without Oracle?” Batgirl asked. “I want my universe back.”

“Let’s go find Drake,” Spoiler said. “He just got back from a multiverse adventure.”

“Drake? Like the rapper?”

“No, like Tim. My boyfriend? It’s his new code name.”

physically painful to put steph & tim together, but it had to be done.

“Yeah,” Spoiler said. “Is he not?”

“Not since like, middle school!” Batgirl cried, and Spoiler rolled her eyes.

“We don’t live in the same universe,” she reminded her. “Our Tims are probably totally different.”

She gestured at the duo.

“I’m Dart,” the speedster-Steph said, holding out a hand. Spoiler shook it, dumbfounded.

i felt like dart would be accepted as the most outlandish to the other stephs. she’s a meta, she has nothing to do with batman at all, she barely remembers living in gotham, etc, which is why in my head she was equivalent to spider-ham. like i feel like rebirth steph looked around at these other versions of herself like “sure, that makes sense”, but with dart she was like “what the fuck am i looking at?”

“I’m Canary,” the other Steph said. “Violet Canary, but generally they just call me Canary.”

“Like Red and Gold Canaries,” Dart said gleefully.

“….No,” Canary said. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Black Canary’s partners,” Dart said, rolling her eyes. “Cass and Jason.”

“Cass and Jason are Bats,” Batgirl said. “Not Canaries.”

“Not in my world,” Dart said. “What, in your universe is everyone a Bat?”

however weird all the other stephs found dart, though, she found them all equally weird. all these people we’re used to seeing as bats she saw as totally different things and having them all lumped together would be surreal to her. she grew up with barry as her dad, so learning that in these other universes some stephs a) stayed with arthur as their dad, or b) had some random rich guy she kinda knows as their dad was pretty weird.

“Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Damian, Babs, Duke,” Spoiler rattled off.

“Duke?” Batgirl asked.

“See?” Batgirl demanded, gesturing at Spoiler.

“I didn’t give her the implant!” Spoiler said. “It happened before I even started crime-fighting!”

“She’s not Oracle in your universe?” Canary asked, looking wildly startled. Spoiler threw her hands up.

“Sorry that you guys landed in a garbage universe, I guess,” she said, and Dart patted her shoulder.

other stephs pushing my rebirth-sucks agenda. i regret nothing.

“So this is your place, huh? Kinda nice,” she said. “You know, I’ve never really been in Gotham before? Not since I moved away, anyway.”

“Yeah, how the fuck are you a speedster?” Canary asked. “I’m not even a meta, and my job depends on me having superpowers.”

“I was going to ask the same question,” Batgirl said.

“But why were you with Wally–? Never mind,” Spoiler said. “We really need to find Drake.”

At Dart and Canary’s confused looks, Batgirl said in a loud whisper, “As in Tim. That’s his new codename. And yeah, we know it’s stupid.”

“Thank you, Batgirl,” Spoiler said loudly. “Let’s just go, yeah?”

“Won’t Batman snipe me?” Dart asked, and Canary asked Batgirl for a spare grapple.

dart in her head: what the fuckkkkkkk

other stephs: calm down lol it’s just batman

“He’s out of town,” Spoiler said. “Just follow us.”

“Sure thing,” Dart said. “Wait, what’s your codename?”

“Spoiler,” Spoiler said. “You mean you were never…?”

“I used to be Kid Flash, but never ‘Spoiler’, whoever that is,” Dart said. “Sorry.”

“Even I was Spoiler, and I’m not even a Bat,” Canary said, and Dart said, “Okay, we get it, I’m a weirdo among Stephanies. Let’s go.”

Below her, Spoiler caught sight of a swarm of Clayfaces, and she had to stop. She yelled to the others to help her, and they dropped into the alley below.

“Cover your ears!” Canary yelled, and she threw a little device at a Clayface. It screamed, a loud noise that was what Spoiler assumed the Canary Cry sounded like. The Clayfaces barely reacted.

From above, a dark shape descended. Spoiler could’ve cried in relief, even though she was sure it wasn’t her own Batman.

Batman threw a device at a Clayface, which sent out some sort of signal that froze all the Clayfaces that weren’t already frozen by Batgirl’s batarangs. Icearangs? Whatever.

Quick work was made of the Clayfaces, and then Batman led the Stephs back into the air.

“You saved us!” Dart said.

“Holy shit,” Spoiler breathed, and beside her, the others seemed to come to the same conclusion. “You’re me.”

this moment right here, where steph looks at batman and it’s herself…? that’s probably why i even bothered writing this fic.

“I would argue that I’m me,” Batman said, her mouth twisting into a smirk. “But yes, I am another Stephanie Wayne.”

“Wayne?” Spoiler and Batgirl cried at the same time.

as much as i love ignoring canon, in this fic i sort of had to go along with it, and i think this moment was kind of a good one.

“Fuck,” Dart said. “If that isn’t a weird last name to think of me having.”

“It makes sense that circumstances would differ,” Canary said. “Although in my universe, I was never truly a Bat.”

“But Wayne?” Spoiler said, waving her hands.

“Bruce actually adopted you?” Batgirl asked.

“No,” Batman said. “He left a portion of the estate to me in his will, and after I took up the mantle I changed my last name.”

“What the fuck,” Spoiler said, and Batgirl seemed of the same mind.

“Why are you panicking? It’s not that weird,” Dart said. “And I mean, clearly you all aren’t Stephanie Allen.”

“Allen?” Batgirl repeated, her voice an octave higher.

“Sweet Jesus,” Batman said, and Spoiler pushed that image aside for examining at a later time. “The pair of you never shed ‘Brown’, didn’t you.”

“No!” Spoiler cried.

“I’ve never even thought that was an option!” Batgirl said, sounding distraught.

“I’ve just been daydreaming about the day Tim proposes so I can be anything besides a Brown,” Spoiler admitted.

“That’s disgusting,” Batman said. “You and Tim, really?”

“Why not?” Spoiler demanded. “Everyone seems to be of the same mind–what’s wrong with him?”

“I mean, besides that he’s an asshole?” Batgirl asked. “Uh, two words: Super. Girl.”

“I’ve never even met Supergirl,” Spoiler said, struggling to imagine herself dating Supergirl.

“Tim’s dead,” Batman said flatly. “But I agree with Batgirl’s assessment.”

“I think Supergirl and Babs have a thing going on?” Dart said. “Maybe? But anyway I’m more of a Wonder Girl kinda gal myself.”

“Ditto,” Canary said.

“Okay, I get it, you guys are hetero-shaming me,” Spoiler said, lifting her hands up. “For the record, I am bisexual.”

the idea of every steph besides the “real” steph being gay & having a girlfriend is comedy. gold.

“Good,” Batman said.

“Shit,” she said.

“What?” Dart asked. Spoiler pointed.

“There was some….orange over there,” she said significantly.

headcanon that steph hates all orange, but the specific shade of cluemaster orange especially.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Batgirl said. “If I have to deal with alternate Cluemasters I’m going to slaughter someone.”

“We need to check it out,” Batman said.

“I’m only agreeing since there’s five of us,” Canary said.

They stopped at the edge of the roof and looked down at the kid–the kid!–who was sitting on the rooftop below them.

She had on an orange skirt and shirt with blue suspenders. Her tights–also orange–were ripped and she had on orange combat boots. Her bandana was pulled down from her face to rest around her neck, and her blonde hair was in tangles.

Spoiler stared her thirteen year old self in the face and thought about fainting.

“What the fuck,” Batgirl said flatly.

i feel like this moment sort of parallels/reflects the moment when spoiler first sees batman & recognizes it as herself. batman!steph is like a dream come true, and cluekid!spoiler her worst nightmare. both are the kind of dreams you didn’t know you even had until you encounter them, but yeah. holy shit that’s batman and that’s ME vs holy shit that’s cluekid and that’s ME

“Don’t hit me!” the kid cried, scrambling to her feet. She had braces, Spoiler noted dimly. “Who are you? What happened?”

“We’re in an alternate universe,” Batman said. “Something’s wrong with the multiverse.”

“Lex Luthor,” Spoiler provided, dazed. “Mining for Kryptonite. Batman–my Batman–is taking care of it.”

“Oh,” tiny, orange Steph said. “So…who are you, then?”

Batman pulled off her cowl. Her blonde hair was short and messy and her face was–old. Spoiler pegged her to be late twenties, probably. Huh. The other Stephs were all teenagers like Spoiler.

idk if you’ve read “touch the sky” but when steph first becomes batman and is a teenager she’s pretty fucked up, and i needed this batman steph to be cool & confident. she’s been batgirl for a while. again on batman & cluekid reflecting each other, the other stephs are all 17/18, and cluekid is younger while batman is older.

“Stephanie,” Batman said, her real voice jarring after the modulated one was gone. “I’m you, okay?”

“In an alternate universe, I’m Batman?” the younger Steph whispered.

“Spoiler?” the younger Steph said, her eyes wide. “Holy fuck.”

“Language,” Batman said.

“I’m going to cry,” Batgirl said. Spoiler’s heart was doing something weird, looking at this tiny version of herself wearing Cluemaster orange.

“Oh, yeah, well. Being Spoiler is my biggest secret,” younger Steph said, putting her costume back away.

“Why are you dressed like that, then?” Dart asked.

“Empire?” Spoiler repeated.

“Yeah, Dad’s criminal empire,” Cluekid said. “I’m taking it down.”

“Criminal empire?” Batgirl said, sounding shocked.

if all the stephs got transported to cluekid’s world instead, they’d be looking around like “THIS IS THE BAD PLACE!!!!!”

“By yourself?” Batman asked, putting her cowl back on. Cluekid pulled up her bandana.

“Yeah, it’s like…someone’s gotta do it, right?”

“Was anyone else’s Cluemaster, like, vaguely incompentent at best?” Batgirl asked, and Spoiler and Canary rose their hands. “Criminal empire, really?”

“It’s super fun that you guys weren’t Cluekid, but leave me alone about it,” Cluekid said. “My dad’s the real deal.”

“Then what’s your plan for when he finds out you betrayed him?” Batman asked. Cluekid blinked slowly.

“Well,” she said, then she stopped.

“You don’t have a plan,” Dart said knowingly. “I can relate.”

“No, she does,” Batman said, horrified.

“You’re just gonna let yourself die?” Spoiler asked. Cluekid shrugged, her arms going up past her head.

“If I have to!” she cried. “Someone’s gotta take him down and I’m the only one who can!”

cluekid is actually planning on faking her own death at this time, but she doesn’t have all the details worked out yet.

“Dying’s no big D,” Batgirl said. “I do it all the time.”

Everyone turned to face her.

“I mean, once, but that’s like, more than most people do it,” she amended, and Spoiler shook her head.

i think batman!steph comes from a mix of preboot/rebirth, so she’s probably died as well

spoiler just wants a chance to call another universe garbage, for a change.

“Yeah, well, your universe has people leaking into it, so it can’t be all that great,” Cluekid shot back, and Spoiler had to admit she had a point.

zing, now everyone’s made fun of rebirth.

While they grappled towards the other end of town, Batman carrying Cluekid and Dart running below them, Spoiler put in a call.

“Batman,” she said. “I have five alternate versions of myself with me.”

“Five Spoilers?” her own Batman asked, his voice gruff.

bruce instantly: [internal screaming]

“Five Stephanies,” she corrected. “A Batgirl, a speedster, a Canary, a kid, and, well. A Batman.”

“Interesting,” Batman said. “Luthor has been apprehended and once I turn off the machine, everyone should return to normal.”

“Okay,” Spoiler said, and Batman disconnected. Spoiler stopped grappling and the group gathered around her. “According to my Batman, you guys should just…go back soon.”

this fic was about conversations between stephanies, not action, which is why i feel like the end is sort of anti-climactic, but whatever. it needed to end, and it did

“It’s been nice getting to know you,” Canary said. “Although really weird.”

“Agreed,” Dart said. “I can’t imagine being a Bat.”

“I wish that would happen to me,” Cluekid said. “But…”

“It’ll be okay, kiddo,” Batman said.

“Hey,” Spoiler said. “Batman, do you have a Robin? You’re pretty good with kids.”

“Yeah,” Batman said, smiling. “Her name is Carrie.”

writing this fic made me think of a “touch the sky” sequel where steph works through the deaths of her siblings and takes in a new robin. we’ll see.

“Hell yeah,” Batgirl said, raising her hand for a fistbump. Batman obliged, and from the corner of her eye Spoiler saw the universe begin folding in on itself.

“Thanks,” Cluekid said, and Spoiler nodded at Dart before she vanished in a puff of purple lightning.

“I’m going to turn on my earplugs,” Canary said. “Who knows what’ll happen when I get back–but anyway, I’m going to be in the dark, hearing-wise.”

“Okay,” Spoiler said, a little confused, and Canary gave everyone a smile.

“It’s been real,” she said, and then she turned on her earplugs. She signed something at them–Spoiler knew only a few signs and couldn’t keep up. Batgirl nodded thoughtfully.

“What’d she say?” Spoiler asked.

“Oh, I have no clue,” Batgirl said. “Come to think of it, the signs me and Cass use aren’t strictly ‘real’ sign language.”

“She said that she turns off her hearing so it’s not damaged by the canary cry,” Batman said. Everyone looked at her. “What? My brother was mute and he had to talk somehow.”

tossed up on the “was” vs “is”, but i wanted damian to get better and i hoped that if any diehard “touch the sky” fans were reading this, they’d see that yeah, he does get better & talk again.

“Brother?” Spoiler repeated, and Batman said, “Damian.”

Damian, mute?

Damian, Steph’s brother?

“I’m leaving,” Canary said loudly, and they turned to face her. She was vanishing just like Dart, and she gave a little wave, then pointed at Batman, who was also disappearing.

“Goodbye,” Batman said, and then she and Canary were gone, leaving Spoiler with Batgirl and Cluekid.

“Maybe you still can,” Spoiler suggested, thinking that she didn’t like the idea of this tiny version of herself planning her own death.

“I don’t think so,” Cluekid said, smiling sadly.

“I’ve been through a lot of shit,” Batgirl said. “I’ve even died before. You can’t let any of that stop you, okay? You just gotta push through it.”

“Keep on coming back,” Spoiler said.

“However long it takes,” Batgirl said. Cluekid blinked, tears welling in her eyes, and then she reached for Spoiler and Batgirl, tugging them both into a hug.

i feel like “never give up” is kind of steph’s motto, and that’s universal among stephs.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Spoiler said, ruffling her hair, and then Cluekid was gone.

“Damn,” Batgirl said. “She says she’s inspired by us, but I’m inspired by her. She’s so brave.”

“Yeah, I know,” Spoiler said, her throat sort of rough. “Geez.”

“Well, it’s my turn next,” Batgirl said. “So, uh. Bye? I guess.”

“Have fun in your universe,” Spoiler said. “With Oracle and Supergirl.”

“Oh, I absolutely will,” Batgirl said. “Have fun with….Drake. Seriously, we give you shit, but if he’s good for you–”

“He is,” Spoiler said, trying not to think of their breakups.

“Then that’s all there is to it, isn’t it,” Batgirl said. She grinned, and the air behind her began to fold. “Oh, what timing!”

“Goodbye, Batgirl,” Spoiler said.

“Bye, Spoiler,” Batgirl said. “You know, it’s nice to see that somewhere out there, we’re still in the mantle we created.”

“And it’s nice to see that we’re in a mantle given to us,” Spoiler said, and Batgirl grinned.

“Hell yeah it is,” she said, and then she was gone, and Spoiler was left alone.

She sighed, and kept moving.

spoiler & batgirl are so similar that of course they kinda got along the best….i think canary was supposed to be kind of distant like “oh that’s kinda weird” and then dart was “oh that’s SUPER weird” and then cluekid was “oh my god is she okay” and then batman more like “wow! #afraid to ask how the mantle got passed down to YOU!”

#long post #i did not do a star. i will do some stars l8r

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