#Bruce's fatal flaw is that he cares just. So much. Maybe too much. And he has no idea how to express it. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellana-ravenwood · 4 years

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In a world where Bruce Wayne raised Damian since birth - Ficlets part 2/3

And here we are. So. Yeah. I got extremely carried away again so I guess I’m cutting this “last part” in two ^^'. The last part (so the third one) is therefor already written and will be posted soon after a few other stories I got to update ! Thanks for reading, hope you’ll like this and boom :

PART 1

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

TW : mentions of blood in the “The day he learned what death meant” part ! Also, loss of a close family member... + drowning in “The Pond incident”.

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******

"No more Robins.”

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to explain to Damian what happened to Jason.

Of course, he knew that one day, he would have to. And that the sooner the better. Especially since the boy was asking more and more when his brother would come back.

Bruce was pretty sure his boy thought that Jason went to form his own “Teen Titans”, like Dick did years ago.

Damian kept asking to video conference Jason, when he’d call, why didn't he kiss him goodbye, or when he’d come back to have dinner with them…Yes. Yes the boy most likely thought his older brother did what his oldest brother did.

Went away for a little while, definitely not forever.

Bruce wondered how long he would be able to wisthand his son’s questions.

Every time the little one would ask « When is Zayson calling/coming back ? », Bruce felt his heart shrivel more and more, and flashes of Jason’s body in his arms kept coming back and-

He couldn’t. Bruce couldn’t. How the hell could he say anything ?

How could he explain to his baby son that his beloved brother would never come home again ? Would never call ?And that everything was his own father’s fault…He couldn’t break his son’s heart like that. He couldn’t bear to..

But he would have to. One day or another.

“The sooner the better”, Dick said. And Bruce knew he was right. But it was too hard.

And then suddenly, as if summoned by his thought, there he was.

Little Damian.

Except this was clearly not the right time to tell him what truly happened to Jason, as the boy seemed mildly annoyed and was…Wearing his coat and shoes ? Where was he going ? And who was that other kid with him ?

The newcomer seemed to be around twelve, and was smiling widely, clearly excited to be here. Before he could speak though :

“Daddy, he knows you’re Batman.”

Damian said, very matter of factly, as if it wasn’t really a surprise. And maybe to a six years old growing up knowing his dad was Batman, it wasn’t ?

Although in this case, it was more the fact that Damian’s mind was monopolized by where Jason went, than him not being surprised someone guessed who Batman was. In other circumstances, and if he was older than barely six, maybe he would’ve been very impressed...Later on in his life, Tim would genuinely impress him many times with his intellect.

Damian never told anyone, because since he was very young, Bruce, Alfred, Dick and Jason told him not to. Because it was a secret. And it became natural for him, to not talk about this to anyone. He was basically conditioned to never even mention the Dark Knight.

“Batman” was part of the boy’s life since birth, to him, he was nothing special except for the fact it was his beloved dad. He was always more of a “Robin” fan anyway, as he regarded both his brothers in awe...

Which made him think, where was Jason ?!

The thought of him brought Damian back to his initial idea, which was to go to Jason’s school (wherever that was) and look for him. As he thought about it, he realized there was a big flaw in his plan for sure. Where was his brother’s school ? And also, it was Winter’s vacation ? Why would he be there ?

Then...Where was he ?

Now, Damian was even more annoyed at this dude who knocked on their door. Not only did he wrecked his plans to go to Jason’s school (before he could truly think about it), but now he was monopolizing his dad’s attention so Damian, who was taught basic politeness by Alfred, couldn’t even cut him off to ask where Jason was !

This had slowly become Damian’s obsession, to know where his brother was. He’s never been so focus on only one thing in his entire short life.

“...and that’s how I found out you were most definitely him, The Batman !”

Damian didn’t really listen to what “Tim” said. He didn’t care that much how he found out that his dad was Batman, all he wanted was...Oh, but wait a minute.

Tim discovered who Batman really was.

All on his own. While everyone in Gotham seemed oblivious to that fact. This must mean...

“Hey ! You must know where Jason went ?”

Damian was maybe young, but he was smarter than a lot of adults would give children credits for. He often easily put two and two together anyway (thanks to the many puzzles his father turned into games and made him solve, along with his brothers), and if that Tim could find out who Batman really was when everyone else was in the dark (even Superman, and he met both Batman AND Bruce Wayne rather often), he could probably find Jace !

Tim turned to Damian, and looked at him with a sorry look in his eyes and...Why ? But the boy never had time to ask that question as his father said :

“Damian, go to your room please. Timothy and I have to talk.”

“But I want to-”

“No buts. I’ll come by your room when I’m done. Please, do as I say, Damian.”

There was something in his father’s tone, that made Damian sort-of forget about asking where Jason was. Something grave, as if the man he admired the most on this Earth would suddenly shatter.

There was something in his father’s tone that made him not want to argue, and to just listen. Something that just sounded quiet and heavy. And so without trying to argue further, Damian went to his room, and waited.

Waited for what seemed hours, for his father to come tell him whatever he wanted to tell him.

But Bruce never came to explain anything. Or to tell what happened between him and Tim. He couldn’t. He just didn’t have the strength yet. Especially not after he told Tim off, and told him to forget about Batman and go on on his own ways.

Not after he told Tim that there was : “no more Robins”.

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

The Pond Incident.

It didn’t seem his dad wanted to explain to him much about what happened with Tim, or talk about Jason at all.

In fact, since yesterday and Tim’s impromptu arrival, Damian hadn’t seen his father at all. Nor did he see Dick (later, he’d learn than both men were together, working a case and trying to focus on it to take their pain away...Later, the boy would learn his father just couldn’t face him just yet).

When Damian asked “Fafred” (Alfred), the butler told him they were both busy. The boy didn’t even bother, this time, to ask where Jason was. He knew he’d get no satisfying answers. So he decided, just like the day before before he got interrupted by Tim and then spend the entire day waiting for his dad in his room, well he decided to take things in his own hands.

Now, there was only one solution to this “Where is Jason ?” problem.

Well, this was the last solution.

The most logical and obvious one, to Damian’s little six years old eyes.

Nobody seemed to want to tell him where Jason went, even after two full weeks now ! And Damian looked EVERYWHERE for his brother.

Now, Jason has always been the best at “hide and seek”.

It was easy to find Dick, he always used his acrobat background to find the least likely places to hid in...Which made it the most obvious of places to look in, all you had to do, is look in places normal people couldn’t access, and you’d find Dick ! But Jason...Jason was a true master of the art. He always managed to find the best hidden places !

But he never stayed hidden for that long ! The most he went on was about two hours, and then he got tired of waiting and went to eat some cookies in the kitchen, which is where Damian finally found him !

So if Jason wasn’t in school, if he didn’t have his own Titans, if he wasn’t playing hide and seek...Then there was only one place left where he could be !

The infamous and scary “Pond”.

Both Jason and Dick warned Damian multiple time to not go near it, telling him a monster lived in it so he would keep away.

Of course, the monster story was a lie. A white one. So they’d keep their baby brother safe. Because that pond was rather treacherous. Even if you were a good swimmer, falling in it, with all the water weed at the bottom, could become fatal rather quickly.

And so the “Pond Monster” was born. Damian was truly terrified of it, which sometimes made his brothers feel guilty that they invented such a terrifying cryptid. But at the same time, anything to keep him out of danger.

But today, as the boy thought this was the last place his brother could be, and that maybe the Pond Monster had him, Damian didn’t feel fear.

On the contrary, he felt rather resolved. And here he was, six years old Damian, slipping away discreetly in the garden, as everyone in the house was too busy and weighted down by their pain to notice...

He approached the water slowly, carefully. He wasn’t about to get snatch easily like that by the monster. Picking a stick from the floor, Damian walked to the pond with wary steps, ready to fight.

Only the thought that maybe Jason was there kept him going.

Hey, maybe that’s why nobody was really telling him where Jason was ? Because the Pond Monster was holding him prisoner and they were all afraid it’d take Damian too ?

“M’not ‘fraid !”

Damian yelled at the pond, letting the monster know he was, indeed, not afraid. Or maybe, trying to convince himself.

And here he was, near the murky water. He looked at it, and waited for a few minutes. Waited for the monster. But it never came, so he said :

“If you have my brother, you have to let him go now.”

Silence.

“Please ?”

Silence. Damian hits the water with his stick.

“We can trade, you take me and you let Zayson go ?”

Damian knew that Jason would never let the monster take him, and intended to trick it so he would let Jason free enough so they could both escape !

But the pond desperately stayed silent. And the boy now found himself wishing that monster was real. He approached the water even more, and bend above it.

He couldn’t see anything, and so he walked closer still, and then...

There was a reason, both Dick and Jason made sure that their little brother would never come near that pond. In fact, Bruce planned to take it out years ago but never quite got to it...

The sides were directly quite deep, for a pond. Deep enough for a small six years old boy to...

“Woaaaah !”

Damian slipped, and fell right in the water.

First, before he could even struggle to stay above the water, he felt the cold of it. New Jersey, that time of the year, was cold and unforgiving...

And as Damian’s adrenaline kicked in, making him unaware of the cold, he started to struggle. But the long grass filling the pond were already tangling around him, dragging him down and down, as if they had a mind of their own.

Damian knew how to swim, he learned fast, as his father was truly terrified anything would happen to his kids...But the panic made the boy get tangled even more in those thick grass, and his little six years old body couldn’t win.

He couldn’t win.

His head was beneath the water now, and everything was dark and cold. He cold feel the bottom of the pond, and he could see he wasn’t that much shorter than the depth of it...But the thick water grass wouldn’t let go of him, and he couldn’t reach the surface that was oh so close. It felt that the more he struggled, the more he got tangled.

And it was cold. So cold.

“Damian...”

Jason ? Was that Jason ? Damian could recognize his brother’s voice anywhere.

“Damian what are you doing here ?”

It was cold, and he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Damian, you’re not supposed to be here. You have to go Damian, you have to go, you hear me ?”

The boy wasn’t quite sure anymore, but he thought he saw the silhouette of a man next to him, helping him out of the water and...Jason ! This was really Jason’s voice ! Jason was saving him !

Probably because of the water, Damian felt like there were two people with him. One that was trying to lift him up above water, and a sort of brighter one, who was slowly fading now...Doesn’t matter.

Jason was saving him.

He knew it, Damian knew Jason would never leave him alone.

Everything was cold and dark, but he felt warm arms get a hold of him, drag him out of the water.

“Good. Good. Go Damian, go. And I don’t want to see you up until you’re very, very, very old...”

The boy did not understand those last few words. Wasn’t even sure he heard them. All of a sudden, he was out of the water, coughing and trembling. And someone was wrapping a warm hoodie around him, trying to get him warm.

“You have to be careful buddy, you have to be careful !”

This wasn’t Jason’s voice.

The water slowly clearing out of his vision, Damian looked at whoever saved him and...

It was the one from yesterday.

Tim.

He was wearing a t-shirt, and was soaked, his hair sticking on his forehead. And he was desperately trying to keep the little boy warm, enveloping him carefully in his own hoodie and coat, that he must’ve taken off before jumping in the pond to rescue Damian. Tim’s own lips were blue, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Are you ok ? Are you ok ? We have to get back you back to the manor, to where it’s warm ok ? I’m going to carry you ok ? Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you I just want to-”

“What happened here ?!”

Damian was still not really sure what was happening, still a bit numbed from the cold water and the fear and...Was it really Jason he heard ?

His little six years old mind couldn’t understand everything, right now. Except that the one who asked what was happening was his dad.

And indeed, as Damian turned to the voice...

“Oh my God what happened ?!”

“I’m sorry sir, I know you told me you didn’t want any help or another Robin or anything but I was um...In your forrest by accident- yes that’s it, by accident-, when I saw your son going straight to that pond and then he fell and-”

A large hand on his shoulder is what stopped Tim’s anxious rant. And Bruce’s kind and understanding eyes what made him feel safe.

“It’s alright boy, come on in tell me all about it around a cup of hot cocoa.”

It didn’t take a genius to gather that Tim had just saved Damian. Taking his own coat off, Bruce put it around Tim’s shoulders, and picked up his youngest son his arms.

“You’re okay to walk ?”

“Yes sir, yes I am.”

“Tough little one.”

Bruce smiled at Tim, trying to reassure him. It was clear the boy had adrenaline rushing through his veins and his heart was still beating fast, unable to quite catch whatever happened there...

Bruce knew. Bruce knew what happened. And it chilled him to the bones.

He couldn’t send Tim away again, not after what the boy just did.

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

Some fresh warm clothes and a cup of hot cocoa later...

What Damian said that day, and what Tim told Bruce, froze the Batman’s blood in his veins.

What if Tim hadn’t been so stubborn, not wanting to give up helping Batman, and Damian would’ve...he would’ve...

It was time now.

Not knowing where his brother went almost cost him his life, that’s how the little one desperately wanted to find Jason back.

It was time now.

Bruce had to tell him. He had to...

The day he understood what “Death” meant.

"Damian, buddy, I have to...I have to show you something.”

Comfortably wrapped in a blanket, little Burrito Damian turned to his father and...was shocked by how serious, tired, sad and old he looked.

Sure, his dad haven’t been the same much lately. Since Jason left. But he also was a little quieter when he let Dick go join the Titans, so Damian didn’t worry too much !

Except right now, it’s as if he truly didn’t recognized his dad. Like it was another man in front of him, who was broken.

When Bruce would look at Damian, at any of his children really, there was always a spark in his eyes. A spark, that was nowhere to be seen right now.

Which worried the little boy.

Bruce turned to Tim, and said :

“Chum, would you mind waiting for us here ? I have to...To...”

“It’s ok Mr. Wayne, I know. I will go home and-”

“Please no. Wait here, there is...There is probably some old clothes that belonged to Dick or...Or Jason, somewhere in the house. Dry clothes. Alfred will take care of things. Finish your cocoa, I will be back and we can...We can talk about Robin. If you’d like.”

Tim’s eyes brightened and opened wide, he excitedly shook his head and said :

“I’d love that sir !”

The pure joy radiating from the boy made Bruce’s heart feel a little warmer, and gave him the last push of bravery he needed to take his youngest son...There.

To take Damian to Jason’s grave.

After asking Alfred to take care of Tim, Bruce took Damian outside again, in the back garden. So deep in the estate, Damian actually realized he never went there.

Holding his father’s hand, the boy stayed silent as he walked along side his dad, walked...Somewhere.

Damian had a bad feeling about this, he didn’t like how wet his father’s eyes were, and how serious he looked. He asked :

“Where are we going daddy ?”

“I have things to explain to you.”

“What things ?”

“Where...Where Jason went.”

“It’s ok, it’s ok, we can wait tomorrow ?”

All of a sudden, Damian didn’t want to know where Jason was. A scary and uneasy feeling he couldn’t quite pinpoint as he never felt it before was creeping his way in his heart, and he was suddenly taken over by a fear of what was waiting for them beyond the woods at the back of Wayne’s garden.

Damian didn’t even know their backyard was so big. He always assumed the forrest was the end of it, but no. No. The forrest was part of it. And beyond the woods laid...

Two weirdly carved stones ?

Damian didn’t like this place. He didn’t like it at all.

“Where is Zayson ?”

He asked, worried, wishing very hard his older brother would pop out from behind one of the stone and everything was just a prank.

“He’s...He’s there.”

Bruce pointed at one of the stone, and Damian didn’t understand.

“Where ?”

“Under.”

“Under ? Why ?”

Bruce realized this was a mistake. How the hell will he explain what happened ? Why didn’t he do it sooner ? Why ? Why why why ? He wished Dick and Alfred would be here. But deep down, Bruce knew this was something he had to do on his own.

That he owned that much to his son.

“Why is he under there, daddy ?”

“He’s..He’s sleeping.”

No. No this was wrong. Don’t give the boy false hope. Tell him right away why his brother is buried three feet under...

“Well, when will he wake up then ? Is it weally safe for him to sleep under the gwound ?”

“He won’t wake up Damian. He...He’s...”

Say it Bruce. Say it. You have to. Don’t beat around the bushes. Tell him. Don’t let him think there’s a chance for him to ever see his beloved brother again.

Say it. Say it. Say it.

Bruce had to gather all his will, courage and strength to finally say it :

“He’s dead, son. Jason is dead.”

It took a little bit for Damian to start to understand what this meant.

A little bit for the boy to have sudden flashbacks of Simba’s dad, in “The Lion King”, whom Dick said was “sleeping”. Of why Nemo’s mom wasn’t around after that scary fish attacked. Or why Little Feet had to cross the Land Before Time all alone, without his mama. Why Bing Bong, in “Inside Out”, disappeared. What happened to the Iron Giant...

For him to remember Harry Potter’s parents, who were “killed” by Voldemort. For the first time, he slowly understood what it truly meant. Harry Potter never saw his parents, except when they were...ghosts ? But they were gone.

Harry Potter’s parents were gone. He couldn’t see them. Ever. They were in a place no one alive could go.

And all of a sudden, he realizes that both his brother’s real parents were “gone”. Somewhere no one could follow them. Somewhere they would never see them again. Somewhere that would sometimes make Dick and Jason sad, because they couldn’t see them ever again.

For the boy to realize his dad’s parents too, left and were...Dead.

Which is why he never met his grandparents. And why his dad was Batman. And why-

“No.”

Damian heard himself say. His little six years old brain refusing to accept that his brother was like Simba’s dad, like Bing Bong, or like...like...

“Damian, yo-”

“No !”

Damian walked to where his dad said Jason was buried, and although he couldn’t quite read yet, he recognized the name “Jason” being written on the stone. His brother taught him how to write it, because the boy drew a lot of things for him and he wanted to address it to him properly...

“Lies ! LIES !!”

Damian screamed, trying to scratch away the name carved deep in the stone.

“Zayson is not dead, he’s not dead ! He would never leave me ! He said so !”

“Damian-”

“Lies daddy, lies ! You’re lying, it’s not nice to lie !!”

Damian kept screaming, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. His little finger tips where starting to get bloody, as he tried to erase his brother’s name off of this damn “grave”...

“Damian, son, ca-”

“ZAYSON IS NOT UNDER THERE ! HE’S NOT ! HE’S NOT ! HE’S NOT !! He’ll come back Daddy, he will ! We have to take the stone away daddy, or he’ll think we forgot him !”

Blood was tinting the cold marble of the tomb now. And Bruce quickly grabbed a hold of his boy but...

Kids were so squirmy.

That’s one of the first lesson Bruce ever learned, when Damian was still a baby and it was such a struggle to put his clothes on, or to change a diaper, as he would squirm all around joyfully.

Except now, far were the times when Dick and/or Jason would mock him because Damian caught a tuff of his hair and wouldn’t let go, far were the funny moments and laughters as baby Damian literally peed on him more than once, making his older sons laugh too much...

Now, Damian was squirming away from his grasp, crying, screaming...

Heart broken.

“No daddy, no !!”

There was a time too, when Damian would say that. Whenever Bruce would scold Dick, for example. Damian would hug his brother tightly, and, barely speaking a few words, would yell at Bruce : “No dadda, no !”, scolding him in turn because no one was allowed to “yell” at his big brother.

But now, now Damian wasn’t hugging Dick. Wasn’t clinging cutely to his brother. Instead, he had latched his arms and legs around Jason’s grave as best he could, and was now screaming :

“We can’t leave him here daddy, we can’t leave him alone ! He’s so far fwom us daddy, he doesn’t like it when he’s alone ! You know it, you know it. Zayson hates to be alone, pwease daddy pwease ! We have to bwing him back with us ! He’s ok, he’s ok he’s waiting for us to take him home ! Pwease daddy ! Pwease !”

Tears were running down the boy’s face now. Down Bruce’s face, too, as he tried to unlatch his son from around the tomb...

“Noooooo ! Noooo ! No no no !! Let go ! Let go ! Zayson !! Zayson !! JASSSONNNNNNNNNNN !!!!!!”

Damian kicked and screamed and cried all the way back to the manor. Kicked Bruce for taking him away from Jason. Screamed that they couldn’t leave him. Cried because he finally understood...

He finally understood what death meant.

Robin’s Training.

From that day, and although he never cared for it, Damian demanded to be trained like his brothers were.

Stubborn as ever, he would literally harass his father

And in many ways, the resolution of his little six years old boy, is what made Bruce open his eyes about young Timothy Drake.

Both of them wanted to be Robin. One to help, the other because of his brother’s death...

Damian decided “Robins again”, and Bruce complied.

Although, he started to train Damian making it clear that the boy was under no circumstances going to leave as Robin before he reached the age of 10/11 at least.

Damian agreed, and that’s how him and Tim started to train under the tutelage of The batman...

“You’re my brother now.”

Tim wasn’t like Dick, who wanted to make sense of his parents’ death.

Or like Jason, who never had anyone to care for him and who had to make sense of his own life.

Or even like Damian, destined to become a “Robin” because of who his father is, but also because of who his mother is.

Tim didn’t have any personal motive.

He still had his parents, he was from a rather wealthy family, he...He was just a kid, who was a huge Batman fan, and who wanted to help.

That’s what Tim was to the core, a highly intelligent child who just wanted to help. And that’s what he did.

He listened to Bruce, became good at fighting, an expert in tactics, and took a completely renewed Robin mantel...

He would go every night back to his parents’ house, where they’d barely acknowledge his existence. How ? How can such a lack of care and love create such a selfless boy ? Bruce didn’t know, but he was proud. And was it bad, that he started to see little Timothy as his own son ?

The boy would spend most days with him anyway now. With him, and with Damian.

Which was important. Tim had become the only one who managed to make Damian laugh, at this time. As expected, the boy and his discovery of what death truly was changed him...But Tim. Tim, he could bring back the Damian Bruce and Dick knew.

Additionally, them being rather competitive, they would bicker often, which would take Damian’s mind off of his pain.

Damian never bickered with Dick nor Jason. But he bickered a lot with Tim. Closer in age, maybe. They came to quickly care for each others, and were acting like brothers before becoming officially ones.

Some could think that the shock of losing his older Brother Jason would make Damian not want a new brother, not want a “replacement”...But Tim and Jason were so different, Tim was definitely not a replacement. And it didn’t feel right to Damian anymore, to not have two older brothers..

Tim became part of the family before he was adopted. Before his parents died.

And when a tragedy occurred, as it often happened in Gotham. When Tim lost his parents...Bruce and his family were ready to welcome him.

Bruce knew he’d never replace Tim’s real parents, no matter how bad and careless they were, and such. Yet...Yet when Tim stepped foot in the Manor, and had his own bedroom in it, and saw the official adoption papers...

Tim became Robin because he wanted to help.

He became part of the family because he was always here to help, to care, to love.

“You’re my brother now.”

Damian simply stated, but with a lot of emotions in his voice, hugging him as a way of giving him his condolences, and officially invite him in the house...

“You’re my brother now.”

A simple sentence, a heartfelt one full of promises of never letting one another down.

Yes. Yes. Tim Drake went from “only child” to brother of two.

The Mastermind behind the Cookie’ rapt.

Lighter days occurred, after this. Jason’s disappearance would forever leave a hole in their heart, of course, but they were all ready to

“Ok agent Damdam, are everything in order ?”

“Yes agent Tim, it is !”

“Codename agent Damdam !”

“Oh, sorry. Yes agent TOm, it is !”

“Good. Now, it’s time to put everything in action.”

Tim became a permanent member of the Wayne family very easily. He fitted right in.

He LOVED Dick and was a huge fan of his Robin, and as a child, of the “Flying Graysons”. And now, he got to be his little brother and they would get along very well. Dick was living in Bludhäven now, but would often come by.

And with Damian ? Well, he didn’t have that many years of difference with his brother, and although they bickered often, they also got along very easily.

Especially when it was about organizing stealth mission to steal cookies after dinner...

Alfred pretended he didn’t notice, and would always refill the cookie jar to make sure those little secret agent “DamDam” and “TOm” had a way to bond further, and something to steal.

Is a sister different than a brother ?

Cass came in soon after Tim did. About six months after. Bruce knew of her prior to her being adopted of course, or rather, he knew about her parents.

He knew what kind of life she lead. He knew how lonely, painful and...Of course, Bruce couldn’t leave her alone. Couldn’t leave her at her father’s mercy. Couldn’t let her stay a weapon.

They knew each other for a while, when Bruce asked her if she wanted to change, to get better, to break free of the chains her parents forged for her.

In Cass, Bruce saw a lot what Damian could’ve become. And there was no way he wouldn’t try to save her, if she was willing to be saved.

And she was. She was.

And in due time, after many adventures on her own and as a spy for Bruce...She was officially adopted. Just like all his other kids,

By that point, Damian was used to have new siblings, but he was a little worried...

Is a sister different than a Brother ?

No. Damian came to that conclusion very quickly. He loved Cass the same way he loved his brothers. She was important to him, and he wanted to be around her when he felt sad.

In fact, Cass became his shield against “Jason Blues”. That’s how he would come to call it one day. The very specific sadness little Damian felt when he was enjoying something, and wanted to go to Jason because he’d be sure he would enjoy it too...

Jason was always the fun, and funny brother. The one that would let Damian do anything to him, including the times Damian was being a little rough or obnoxious. Jason never said “no” to playing with Damian, like Dick would sometimes do (see previous chapter for more details about all this).

And even if Jason didn’t have any interest in whatever Damian wanted to do, he’d say “sure buddy”, and would play with him nonetheless. Tim wouldn’t do that either, they were close of course, and had a lot of common interest, but neither Tim nor Dick would just let Damian do whatever he wanted. At least, not all the time. Of course, they would often let him chose...

And so when something happened that Damian really wanted to share with Jason, only to realize that his brother was gone (he’d forget sometimes, that’s how surreal this felt), he would go to Cass.

Because Cass had a knack to be soothing. To find the right words, to...Maybe it was because she didn’t speak much ? Because she never had to and was taught to never feel ? Maybe that’s why, she always found the exact right short few words to cheer her little brother up again.

Wether it was a simple “love you”, or “believe in you”, or even “will always be in your heart” (the longest sentence she ever pronounced at the time), she just knew what to say. What to do.

Cass was extremely touched starved. Her father, of course, wanting an emotionless perfect weapon, would never touch her for anything else than to hurt her. And when Bruce gave her his first hug, she realized...She needed it.

It made her feel better, made her feel safe and warm.

And so she wouldn’t shy away from hugging her little brother, wether in public or not, when she felt he was sad.

Sometimes, he wouldn’t even had anything to say. She’d just know.

She’d tell him what he needed to hear, hug him, and be there as much as she could, trying to fill the void Jason left behind.

« I’m learning how to read Cass ! »

« Hello Cass ! Cass ! Cass ! Caaaass ! »

Damian was six. And the school year just started. And clearly, something very exciting happened at school, today.

And that exciting thing was...

“Cass, I’m learning how to read Cass, I’m learning how to read ! I can read you bed time stories now if you want ?”

Tim was the one in charged of bed time stories, as Dick lived in Bludhäven now. And neither Damian nor Cass knew how to read.

Cass being heavily dyslexic, she was slower in learning it, and would often become frustrated...Only with Bruce, would she make progress, as he was patient, forgiving, and wasn’t about to give up on her. Ever.

It touched Cass, that the first thought Damian had, as he was about to learn how to read, was that now, he too would be able to read her bed time stories.

Cass loved bed time stories. Many would say she was too old for them now, but she missed out on an entire childhood. She never had anyone tell her stories. So now, she had to catch up.

“Look, I brought my first book from the school’s library.”

Damian showed her, excitement overwhelming him a bit as he wasn’t able to stand still, and kept jumping from one foot to the other. Cass took the book, and opened it.

It was one of those stories that had very few words, and big images. Perfect to begin. Struggling, she managed to read the three first words, and when she turned to Damian...There were stars in his eyes.

“Wooow you read so well already ! Hey, what if we learn together ? It’s funner right ? Right ? Right ? I bet dad would say yes, what about you Cass, you wanna learn with me ? Uh ?”

It was adorable, how excited Damian was. Cass couldn’t help but think about what Bruce told her once, how his life could’ve been completely different, if he had stayed with the Al Ghuls...

Would he be as excited to learn how to read ? As impressed she managed to read three words ? Would he be that happy over those small things ?

Knowing her own experience, and how similar it was to what Ras had in mind for the boy...she knew that no, no he’d probably be an entire different child.

But hey, right now, her little brother’s excitement was quickly spreading to her. Proof that even children with broken childhood such as her, had a chance to change. To have a redemption arc.

And so here they sat, the both of them, trying to read this new book Damian brought, congratulating and praising each others, and being happy about small things they could’ve never noticed if Bruce hadn’t taken them away from a certain way of life...

Not that everything was perfect with Bruce. He had many flaws. But at least, he never did anything to stop them from having fun, or enjoying childish things. He never forced them to do anything they did not want to do. He never...

Bruce had many flaws, but they would never want any other father.

The Red Hood.

Two years after Cass was adopted, Damian was eight now and things were good. Well. Except for...

Bruce didn’t want to believe it, but now, faced with him, he had to admit it.

There was no doubt in his mind, that this was...this was...

Unfocused, unable to fight properly against him, he took a bad right hook to the face, which broke one of his mask’s lens.

Jason.

The way he moved, the way he fought.

This was Jason.

He was sure.

He’d have his suspicion for a while now, seeing videos of the infamous “Red Hood”, and encountering him a few times.

The man seemed to have a personal vendetta against The Batman, and now, Bruce knew why.

Jason. It was Jason.

And Bruce found himself unable to fight him properly. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t hurt his own son...Especially since he himself, thought he deserved all the punches and kick Jason was giving him.

After all, it was his fault if the boy died..

Years of guilt weighted Bruce down. And he let Jason give him the beating of his life...

“Defend yourself old man ! Don’t humiliate me by doing nothing, come on, defend yourself or I’ll-”

“ZAYSON !!”

Jason froze, as he was about to punch Bruce, and turned around. What...What was he doing here ?!

“Zayson Zayson !!”

The little boy, down there, kept yelling his name, and suddenly, Jason felt his heart beat faster. Felt his heart start again. All the memories...All the memories...

Bruce looked at his son, in Dick’s arms, and understood immediately what happened.

Dick knew his brother. He knew him very well. And he knew that seeing their youngest sibling would awaken something in him. It seemed like it worked, as Jason’s eyes filled with tears, and he let go of Bruce.

“Damian...”

Jason fell to his knees, and Dick put Damian on the floor. The little boy didn’t waste a second, he ran to his big brother, screaming excitedly “Zayson !!” along the way. He jumped into his brother’s opened arms, and started to cry-giggle uncontrollably.

“Zayson, I knew you wou’d come back ! I knew I said to Dad but he said you wou’dn’t but you did Zayson ! You did ! You’re back !”

Tears were running down the face of the little boy, tears of joy. And that giggle Jason sometimes heard, in his darkest moment, reminding him he was still human, still there...Jason’s hold on his little brother tightened, as the boy couldn’t stop his rambling about how he always knew he’d come back.

The Memories that saved him.

He could feel the warm tears of happiness from his little brother warming his cheek, as the boy held onto him.

He was taller than last time he saw him. Of course.

Not much taller, but still, he had a little growth spur, in those two years.

He was eight now. eight…Just a little younger than Jason was when Bruce adopted him…

And suddenly, a surge of memory came back to him. From that first day he met little 3 years old Damian, to his death…

“Hewwo Zayson”, the boy would say every morning, jumping on his bed to wake him up, bright smile and giggles. When he was three, he always struggled to climb onto the bed, and it would take him a hot minute to do so. Jason would pretend he was still asleep, as the boy would finally jump up and say “Hewwo Zayson !”. Over the years, Damian learned how to properly pronounced “Jason”, but just like “Fafred” those cute childish mispronunciation just stuck...And so, the boy was maybe able to talk properly and climb his brother’s bed more easily, he’d still say “Zayson” each times.

“I drew you Zayson !”, he’d say excitedly, already showing incredible skills and talent at art, regularly giving drawings as gifts to Jay. Jason’s bedroom’s walls could be a “Damian Wayne’s art gallery”.

“Catch me Zayson, catch me !”, he’d say, running around the manor or the Batcave, and Jason would pretend that he was too fast for him.

“Zayson, it hurts !”, he’d cry after a fall, and Jason would give him a magic kiss that’d make everything feel better, and a hug. Then he’d make him laugh, and Damian would forget all about his pain.

Flashes of memories, one after another. Birthdays in his family, finally loved and home. Making the pain of feeling betrayed by Bruce who did not avenge him even stronger...Yet this hurt couldn’t taint everything.

It couldn’t taint Damian’s smiles. It couldn’t taint how the boy absolutely adored his big brother Jason. It couldn’t taint being woken up every day by giggles and a mischievous smile. It couldn’t taint years of trying to be the best older brother, to such a sweet boy as Damian.

It couldn’t taint Dick’s teasing. It couldn’t taint how much his older brother worried for him, and told him to be careful when Jason didn’t take things too seriously. It couldn’t taint the nights of fear, being comforted by his older brother, just like Jason would comfort Damian...It couldn’t taint those nights feeling safe and warm, home, knowing his brothers were there.

And it couldn’t taint Bruce’s pride and love for him. It couldn't taint all the moments the man praised him, took care of him when he was hurt (both mentally and physically), gave him this new home and clearly tried to...tried to...

It couldn’t taint how Bruce truly cared...But if he did, why didn’t he kill the Joker ? Why didn’t he do it ? For him ? Just for him ? Maybe...Maybe there was a valid reason ? Maybe...

And it’s those precious untainted memories that made him hug his little brother back. That made him

Talia did it for them.

“I know you did it.”

He says, as if talking to no one in particular.

But then, out of the shadow, a figure appears.

The figure of a woman.

Talia.

Bruce turns to her, but she doesn’t look at him. Instead, she says :

“I did it for him. For Damian. And for you, too. But...”

“But it didn’t go as you planned.”

“No. It didn’t. He stood up from that pit lost and confused, and with no memories of who he was. And when he finally got them back...”

“Is that why you did not tell me what you did ?”

“Yes.”

“How long ?”

“Right after you buried him. We took him with us, to a Lazarus pit.”

“Was it his idea ?”

“Ras ?”

“Yes.”

“No. It was mine. I did it for Damian. And for you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me anything ? For two years ?”

“He lost his memory. I was afraid the shock...He didn’t know who he was. He was not your son anymore.”

“What did you do to him, then ?”

Silence.

“Talia, what did you do to my son ?”

“What would’ve happened to Damian if you didn’t take him...”

“What did you do ?”

“Ras turned him into his personal weapon. Jason was trained already, his brain remembered fighting, but his heart couldn’t remember his life.”

“For two years ?”

“A little less. He-he got hurt on a mission. Hurt pretty bad. And he-”

“He remembered.”

“Yes.”

“Four months ago ? When Red Hood appeared in Gotham ?”

“Yes.”

There’s a long silence, as Bruce tries to process those new informations.

So, Talia was the one to bring his son back. And she did it for Damian, for him. But things didn’t go as planned. Jason couldn’t remember, and Ras got a hold of him...Up until...

Up until a few months ago, when a shock brought back the trauma. The memories. And Jason came back to Gotham.

Jason came back home, only to realize the Joker was still alive. That Bruce didn’t kill him. Not even for him...And so Red Hood was born.

Bruce’s jaw clenches, as he feels a surge of pain. How much more was this boy going to endure ? Once again, the Batman was reminded of how important his children were in his life. Of how Damian changed his all world.

And changed Jason’s. How long would’ve Jason fight ? Would he have hit Bruce, that night ? If Damian didn’t arrive, what would’ve happened ? More and more anger, hate, frustration, pain and sadness ?

Bruce knew Jason didn’t forgive him yet, and only calmed down because of Damian (and Dick). And the Batman was determined to make amend. Amend that would start with a...

“Thank you.”

Bruce could not be mad at Talia. He could see that her intentions were good. That she really did this for Damian and for him. That she cared. That she loved them. But unfortunately, what kept them separated all those years ago was still the reason they couldn’t be together now.

Talia couldn’t break free from her father’s grasp. At least, not yet. But at the same time, didn’t she let Bruce take Damian and give him a better life ? Didn’t she use her father’s precious Lazarus pit to bring Jason back ? And wasn’t she here, right now, telling him the truth ?

There was still some good in Talia, and Bruce would never give up on it. But for now...For now, just like 9 years ago, she wasn’t ready to let go of her father’s legacy. Of her upbringing.

And so Bruce, without a look back, jumped away in the night, disappearing in the darkness.

“Thank you.”

Were the last words he said that night, and Talia watched him go, her heart heavy and wishing things...Wishing she had Damian’s chance when she was a baby, and that someone would’ve taken her away from Ras Al’Ghul.

Home Again.

Jason wasn’t ready.

No. He wasn’t ready to forgive Bruce yet. He wasn’t ready to call him “dad” again. He wasn’t ready to come back to the Manor.

He wasn’t ready.

The pain and anger was too fresh.

“You started to train him ? Him, Bruce ?! And you took a new Robin ?!”

“Before you get mad at me for this too, please listen to me. Your brother...After you died, and after he understood what happened to you, there was no way of keeping him away from this. You saw how I tried to have him have as little to do with Batman affairs as possible. I never trained him, I never...The only reason he hung out in the cave was because we were there, and it was better than a nanny. Clearly. You know how he hated being away from us. But I never, I can assure you Jason, I never intended for him to want to be Robin. It’s just...You died, and there was no trying to convince him to not want to be. As for Tim, it just happened. He’s a wonderful little boy who just wanted to help and...I’m not gonna let what happened to you happen again. I didn’t let them go out there right away, I trained them for years first. I told Cass. I told her.”

There’s a silence, where Jason looks around to his siblings (he somehow gained two, in his absence). He wanted to talk more about how wrong it was to have another Robin, to train Damian to...Instead he said :

“I still haven’t forgiven you. You have a lot to answer for.”

“I know.”

“I’m just here for Damian.”

“I know.”

“And for Dick.”

“I know.”

“I’m just here because I couldn’t beat your ass in front of them.”

“I know.”

“Don’t push your luck though.”

“I won’t.”

“Right. Well then. I’m off for now, I have things to do and-”

Damian grabbed Jason’s sleeves, panicked.

“You’re not leaving now, are you ??”

The boy didn’t care at all, wether Jason was “Red Hood” or not, wether he killed many criminels, wether...

“We’re watching Harry Potter, yes ?”

They used to watch Harry Potter a lot, when he was still alive. When he...

“You’re staying right ? And meet Tim and Cass more ? They’re your brother and sister, too.”

Brother ? Sister ? New ones ?

Jason wanted to leave. He didn’t want Damian to know how much he still loathed their father. But...But deep down, he knew he didn’t hate Bruce. He was just...So hurt. Hurt it didn’t seem he mattered enough to...

“Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix ? Your favorite ? Yes ? And with cookies from Alfred !”

Jason had never been able to resist his little brother. Today wasn’t an exception...And so he stayed.

He ended up staying all night, marathoning Harry Potter movies. He ended up picking Damian up, and going to put him in his bed, tucking him in, as he did often years ago.

He didn’t talk to Bruce, but he stayed. He stayed, and met his new brother and sister. He stayed because of Dick. Because of Damian. Because of Alfred. Definitely not because of Bruce...

He stayed. And ended up crashing in his old bedroom, which didn’t change one bit. And for the first time in those two frightening, scary and painful years...

He felt home.

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

When Damian woke up, he was suddenly overcame with the fear that his brother might not be here anymore ! That him not being dead was just a beautiful, beautiful dream.

So, just like he did 3 years ago now, he jumped out of his bed, and the first thing he did was to run to Jason’s room.

The way was longer now. After Jay’s death, they all decided to move in the East Wing, and the West wing became sort of abandoned. In the end, only Alfred would go there to keep the place up. Sometimes, Bruce would silently go to Jason’s room, left untouched since he died, and it would be so painful...

The West Wing was pretty much abandoned. Jason’s absence resonated too much, in it.

And so, as Damian jumped out of his bed, he had to cross the entire manor to go to Jason’s bedroom, who kept the one he used to have.

But last night was nice. It felt nice, to be with his brothers (and sister too, now !). It felt...it felt...It felt like home.

This time also allowed him to get more acquainted with both Tim and Cass, and it was clear from that point on, the three of them would become just as close as Jason was with Dick and Damian.

Jason’s “big brother instincts” had always been rather developed.

But anyway, Damian was finally reaching his room and...He stopped in front of it. What if, just like it happened three years ago, he’d open the door to find the room empty.

The bed still made.

As if Jason never came back. As if Jason would never come back.

What if indeed, them being reunited and all this Red Hood business was just a dream ?

What if...

The bedroom’s door open, letting some light in the dark corridor, and a silhouette appears in its frame.

“Oh hey little bugger, thought I heard your footsteps closing in. What’re you doing up so early ? And what are you standing there without-”

Before Jason could finish his sentence, Damian had jumped in his arms.

This wasn’t a dream ! This wasn’t a dream !

Jason was really back !

He was taller, had an odd white streak in his hair, and was more of a man now, than the teen Damian remembered, but his brother was back !

He truly was !

Now, now his family was full again. There wasn’t a huge gap in their lives. A taboo subject no one ever talked about in fear of hurting their family.

Jason’s name was rarely uttered, in the Wayne’s household. For Bruce, Alfred, Dick and Damian, it was too painful. For Tim and Cass, it was the constant fear of bringing up too many bad memories.

But it was fine now, he could say his name, they could joke about how he had trouble pronouncing it and “Zayson” seemed to have stuck even now. They could try to mend the pieces of their heart now, they could really try.

The family was bigger than when Jason left, but it only made his return stronger ! Or at least, that’s how Damian viewed it.

And so here he was, clinging to him.

**********

A little while later, Jason walked down to the kitchen to have breakfast, holding Damian in his arms, who just refused to let go.

The kitchen was empty, but for Bruce, who was eating ice cream straight out of the tub. Talk about a breakfast...

“Are you pregnant ?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, but took two more spoons to give to his sons. Jason sat Damian on the counter, and sat a seat away from his dad, stealing the ice scream tub from him.

The road would be long, before Jason could even begin to forgive his dad...But Bruce was hopeful. He was hopeful that Jason would understand.

His son had always been understanding, forgiving and empathic. Always.

Maybe that’s why the pain of thinking Bruce didn’t care was so grand ? Probably. But Bruce was determined to fix things. He was.

The road would be long, but as Bruce looked at his sons smiling and talking about things as if Jason was never gone, Bruce was hopeful.

Even if his boy would never forgive him, at least...At least his kids were reunited.

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

Final Crisis.

Jason was back.

The family was full again.

The siblings were as close as ever. It wasn’t always easy, and there were fights and misunderstanding and bickering...But even if just like any other family, they had their little differences, things were good. Really good.

Bruce was a proud father, and trusted them enough that he left Dick in charge of taking care of Gotham, as important matters called him elsewhere and...

That’s when it happened.

They received a call from the Justice League Watchtower. From Superman. And what he had to say

“I-...I don’t know how to say this guys. I-Your father he-I...Your father is gone.”

To be continued..

__________________________________________________

I hope you liked it, see you soon with the final part, and don’t hesitate to leave some feedback and to reblog, it’s always beyond appreciated <3.Ok phew, it’s 2 am, off to bed. Sorry for any horrible typo or if it’s not great.

Before I get any question about this, YES, of course Steph and Duke will appear too ! Oh and Babs DUH ! (She was actually supposed to appear earlier but I ended up scratching the idea as it felt out of place in this chapter). They will all appear in the final part, as this took way longer than I initially thought ^^' and I wanna write all of them right (and not just write two paragraph because I fear it’s getting too long and wanna cut to the chase, know what I mean ?). For both Babs and Steph I’ll use flashbacks to talk about how they’ve been in the Bats family for a while, I just really didn’t know how to fit them there right now, it didn’t fit the mood, and for Duke, well he does appear quite late in the Bats stories as he’s a fairly new character so it fits there). By the way, if you have any questions about ages and such in this fic, the explanation is at the end of chapter 1, I went into details about everything.

PS : for people not really reading comics very quickly : in Final Crisis Bruce is rumored dead (he obviously comes back later...with a new costume hahahaha). It’s personally not one of my favorite run, but I do like Dick as Batman and his relationship to Damian is interesting. Now obviously here there’s a MASSIVE change, since Damian normally comes in Bruce’s life not long before his “death”. So I’ll talk about this in the next chapter hehe. More Talia too. Anyway I was saying, Final Crisis and whatever happens in New 52 afterward and all = really not my fav. However, that’s when Duke appears and co (fairly new character, 2014 eh) so if we want him in, we have to go through some events from New 52 and co I guess....ANYWAY HERE WE ARE. Finally coming to an age we first truly discovered Damian hehe, when he was around 10 :). That’s when the true differences begin.

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currentfandomkick · 4 years

Text

Why Marinette Hates Tim

Marinette blames Tim next summer for all that happened. Why? He cursed her with a vague theory. And Max and her Both know give her a clue and she has to follow it to solve the puzzle—a fatal flaw for her, Puzzler, Hero Stalker (Tim), Riddler and her father, Professor Strange (even if he is using an alias and supposedly dead as far as legal documents go).

Hero Staker Tim swore he’d become Robin if the current one left. It was a joke between them, she thought. Then he vanished the next summer, the first one where there wasnt any Robin mentioned anywhere. It was eery.

Then, then Timothy Drake, heir to some company-who looks a lot like her Hero Stalker—is a Wayne. And there’s a new Robin. This... deeply bothers Marinette. Why? New Robin seeks her out and talks a lot like Hero Stalker. And has a too similar movement pattern and tells.

And wasnt Hero Stalker Tim from a rich but high on neglient at best family? Didnt that happen to Timothy Drake before ending up as a Wayne?

Her that puzzle peice was central to figuring this out and goddamnit. Frost, who hates gossip, told her to just look up the rich families with kids Hero Stalker’s age and see who looked like him and to leave from to his lab and antidotes already.

Frost accidently gave her the vital method to see if Hero Stalker was that dumb to be become Robin after Robin the Second (Jason) was brutally murdered. The answer was yes.

And now Marinette had a crisis. She knew Batman’s identity was Bruce Wayne. How? Tim calls Bruce his dad. New Robin slipped and called him dad. And Tim is New Robin since Tim is Hero Stalker and no one else came close to looking like Hero Stalker from the data pool which involved more hacking than she ever thought she would do.

Marinette, a child, figured out who Batman was by age 9 becuase his new Robin/former Stalker was too obviously himself. She is embarrassed on his behalf, and honestly debates asking Riddler to separate him and Bats in a non-lethal puzzle trap just to lecture him. Becuase what the fuck Hero Stalker! If she can figure it out, then everyone else can too! Probably(?) likely. Either way its bad!

She doesnt though... Riddler puts together she’s concerned for the new Robin, traps Bats in a different puzzle maze from Robin, who is stuck with a grounded Marinette. Why was she grounded, easy. She got caught returning stolen jewlry on camera. It was punishment for failing basic stealth—always take out any witness.

And instead of pointing out she knows who Bats is, she tells him to work on a different persona since ‘i made you weeks ago. Its pretending to be someone you’re not completely is all. I have to do that around Maman and Papa all the time, and whenever i go out with anyone really. Up your secret identity game already!’

Riddler is busy with Bats and didnt do cameras. Why? “Im not redesiging a perfectly good grounding maze every time. They take time and i dint always have it. Its time economics Batman. I dont know what our lovely Princess said or did to your Robin. He’s fine though, see? No major injuries.”

Tim relized Marinette knew Hero Stalker was batman’s new Robin. This meant one thing—he could still help her and the RKC now! Why? He knew even if they made him out, they want to help people and never be like their parents, duh. And if they added to his budding information network with incredibly accurate information so long as he didnt rat them out to Batman, its fine.

Afterall, Pixie Pop wants to help poeple and is working the rouges into vigilantes to help more than hurt, and is doing a great job of it for the most part. So if Pixie Pop is Princess who’s the maybe kryptonian and her powers align with that theory, so what? Superman has an heir already and a bio!son too, apparently. Lois didnt tell him since they werent together then and yeah. So really, Superman didnt need another kid, and Pixie Pop didnt want another dad—“i have Papa and Father and now four of my friends’ dads in Paris called dibs on partial custody. I have more dads than i need for a quartet. That is far too many dads and i refuse to get another one!”

Then Marinette is talking to Alix and finds out about an old director at the Lourve her dad knew, Diana Prince. Marinette was working on a Wonder Woman inspired outfit, and knew her history of Wonder Woman thank you. Its just...

Wonder Woman appeared just after Miss Prince Left. And from the videos Alix sent of her new hero, she was terrifyingly similar to Wonder Woman. Not only did they look alike and have the same hair style preference, it was the same face if she did facial recognition with Markov, her robot son with Max. Then there was gait, generao stances and how she interacted with men and women so differently as both people and damnit. Same person.

She curses Hero Staker Tim for this. She now has to hide two hero identities. Why her?

The third was debatably Ivy and Harley’s fault, but defiantely still Tim’s. Why? He was the one that got her hooked on Barry Allen’s cases, and pointing out that he didnt see meta as bad or evil but as people who can be good or be civilians peacefully. That, she needed that with how much vitrol she had to swallow about her powers indirectly from everywhere but her school and some parts of Gotham.

In her defense, she is a nerd here. A nerd. So realizing the The Flash is also the forensics guy from Central City that she kinda follows on all her social medias, watches the cases of unfold, and knows has a reputation for being late a lot like her but is still well liked. So she may fangirl about his cases with Hero Stalker erm. Tim now, still.

And if one day she managed to pout at her father enough to get him to agree to let her go with Harley and Ivy to Central City for a few days to see the meta museum they just opened up (technically the Flash Museum, but Marinette didn’t care. It was focused on metas not being horrible and that meant a lot to her scared, meta closeted butt).

And then her favorite forensic investigator, The Barry Allen, shows up? Best day ever. He’s nice! And concerned about how much of his cases she knows. Its not her fault this time though! Hero Stalker—Tim—sent her a case of his that went cold and she liked his science and yeah. New hero added to her listpersonal heroes list.

Harley isn’t even mad, just amused as Marinette fangirls over someone that isnt her and Barry has no clue how to respond as a tiny child know him as Barry Allen and thinks he’s awesome? Why?? He is happy but so confused and Iris is dying until Marinette cites cases that she shouldnt know about and tiny child why, how, when and where did you get that information!

The only answer is a friend likes cold cases and has no qualms hacking to find interesting ones, if he’s stumped then Marinette (Jill Smith mr. allen sir!) gets to try. And she is good at it since she can ask an officer in France (officer Raincomprix) about logistical things, common error margins and then puzzle it all out herself from there.

Somewhere she mentions absently that her mom doesnt like her science-y side since her dad was a bad person and liked science but she still likes learning and helping, even if the family buisness is food and service and they want her to either take over or become a designer. She’s thinking maybe for people woth disabilites so she can do more mental work and toy with hiw things bend and move and such.

Iris and Barry are ConcernedTM and debating how to get custody, or get her away from her mom or both. Probably both—no science allowed for a clear science obssessed kid is a red flag for bith of them that somethinf is very wrong. Harley and Ivy wave it off as “trust us, her mom aint budging.”

then the Flash is needed because of some gorilla—Marinette was more focused on an outfit on display and muttering over aerodynamics and friction. Barry is Concerned (smart kid, likes helping, potentially a league ally?) before he bolts, determined to get more on her when he returns and possibly see if he can get cps involved.

Marinette only notices that her hero moving so fast and oh god she did it again damnit! That was superspeed. And only one speedster had similiar measurements, the Flash.

She cant even tell Hero Stalker now because he’s Robin and the Justice League would Flip if they knew she knew 3 of their hero’s identities. She just hit her head and said “i did it again!” Harley pats her head while Marinette burrows into her because why is she a danger to the Justice League and secret identities! She doesnt want to be or to know damnit!

Tim sneezes in the distance and wonders who’s talking about him behind his back this time. He messages batgirl about this bad feeling he has and she laughs it off as the boy developing Batman’s paranoia.

Her Fourth solve was Green Arrow. It was an accident! She swears. She just saw oliver queen with a bow and arrow in a video shooting. and noticed he had a very distinct and familiar style to someone but not who. Then compared it to various archers as her brain was nagging. Then saw a green arrow video and cursed herself again then Tim five more times.

She sent a message to Rose asking why she’s a danger to all secret identities. Rose tells her it is her curse for being too damn smart and not leaving things alone.

Marinette tries reallly hard not to figure out the next one. But really, it should have been an earlier solve and she’s mad at herself for missing it for so long, even if it was more aviodance than denial.

Admittedly this one should have been an earlier solve, but she was very little when she found out about the surgery and everything and it was uncomfortable damnit! So she did what any reasonable child would. Ignore it. Then she went over the file to see if maybe she could possibly target parts of the kyptonian DNA in her to weaken it. And saw who the intended donor was, Clark Kent, a reporter that has impossible luck with big hero scoops, is never injured or rescued, and never been sick. He also looks like... one quick photoshop of his glasses onto superman with a clothing change and she sees her usual disguise technique on goddamn superman. She is overwhelmed with this as ‘oh god superman will kidnap me if he finds out!’ And hides from him whenever he’s in the region—be it France or Gotham.

Her friends think its hilarious, Marinette feels sick from it. She doesnt like this and is genuinely scared for her life and family’s safety now. And we all know how nervous marinettes are.

If at one point batman tried to talk to her on patrol and somewhat suceeded. As in, she spoke beofre bolting.

“I didnt figure out who boyscout and amazon and boltbrain and arrowhead are! Or you and the batfam! Bye!!!!” Yes, clearly Marinette can lie very well.

Batman sees through it and feels sick. He forces a league meeting asap and fills them in.

“this kid put five of our identities together and cant even lie. We need to recruit them.”

“Batman, is this that kid KF mentioned to me?”

Batman nodded. Flash sighed. “Okay. We are on a manhunt for a kid kyptonian that is terrified of all of us, very smart, and may have an active gotham villain as a parent. And somehow knows me and—wait. bats, do you have any pics of your rogues in civilian clothing? I need to test a theory...”

A few minutes later and “oh my god that little kid i met as a civilian figured me out!”

A few days later Flash finds her by acccident as a civilian kid in broad daylight on her own in Central. He doesnt show he knows she knows, And finds out she’s waiting for her babysitter to finish a class.

Flash just asks about a case he put together as Barry Allen that she might know about and...

“Uh, mr. Flash? Why are you asking me? The lead florensics was Barry Allen.”

He tries insulting Barry Allen—he’s late and sloppy and—

only for Marinette to defend him to the death. “He’s late because he stays up late working on other cases. Appearances and organizational skills arent what matters with his expertise mr. flash! He even foghts for metas to have their circumstances and powers impact on them considered dueing sentencing!”

Flash is very touched and shocked. only then he manages to get out of her that where she lives (france) being meta is a life sentence to “a living zombie And jail-time for being born a lot, even if it is t in normal prisons. And you know what? Mr. Allen stated so many times that you need to contextualize powers and abilities and intent in his testimonies for meta cases. Back home youre put in prison for defending yourself...” she tugs at her sleeve here.

“Maman screamed at me when she found out a few kids were getting stalked and i helped out and someone got it on tape. Not becuase my powers showed or anything—father made a treatment so they dont, well, they stay off when i use them and follow all the behavior and environmental rules so they cant put me in one of the centers. But she, she’s stills cared someone will try to check me for abilities back in France, and that she’ll lose me. She doesnt always realize i have them until things like that happen...”

Flash is desperately trying not to adopt her. Wally would love a little sister, and Superman has enoguh kids, Bats does too. he is oreventing arrow form having another one as she’s powered and that isnt a good when working with Green Arrow unless the meta is his girlfriend. And the girl loves science—come on!

batman, Green Arrow, Wonder Woman and Superman heard the Feance bit over comms and suddenly it hit them that the kid could be in danger for existing and that an entire country villified being meta to an extreme. That the girl is in hiding and probably using an alias constantly. Batman mentally adopted her ages ago and is now in Worried Dad mode like Flash and apparently Superman was falling into it too. Wonder Woman is in righteous rage mode and ready to fight france herself if she has to—no imprisoning metas for being metas!

Flash decided to be direct since he knew she trusted him as Mr. Allen and knows he’s Flash.“So, am i allowed to know which powers you have?”

Marinette shook her head, visbily distressed and floating skightly. “If, if they ever find out i cant. I cant risk Maman and Papa and Father. I dont know everything but Father only started being a good person after the, the incident where he had to go into witness protection. Maman is dead as far as a lot of people are concerned, or she never existed. Papa doesnt know about any of it. I cant. I cant risk what they worked for by being outted.”

Flash is very concerned. “Thats a lot of pressure to put in yourself, especially at your age.”

marinette didnt make eye contact then. “I have to. If i dont people can connect dots and dashes and blips. Father says its easy for him too and that possibilities are just what we’re both hardwired for but. But i shouldn’t catch as many as i do—my teachers keep saying i need to dial it back and stop catching on so fast and blurting it all out but, i just...” marientte is visibly drowning under the pressure to act not-meta and keep her family safe.

“Sounds like youre a real smart kid.”

“Smart kids dont get caught.” She meant herself with her jewlry returns, Flash thought she meant the JL, and tried to redirect the conversation.

If the JL was out then...

“If you cant tell me, can you at least tell me you have someone to talk to about these things?”

“Auntie Quinn and Rose. Rose doesnt like you guys though.”

Flash laughed a little at that. “Alright, fair enough. Who made her mad? Was it arrow?”

“Batman.” Marinette frowning as she said the enxt bit. “Something about her being given to someone that should never be allowed bear children? She rants a lot so i cant always keep up.”

Batman internally bangs his head against a table. Outwardly, he says “Ivy’s daughter, rose. That girl, she’s the Princess.”

The assemebled winced. They all pushed for Rose to be sent toback to her mother, Ivy, since they didnt trust her with any available mentor and Ivy was usually a low ranking Gotham eco-terrorist pacified by wayne gardens and green initiatives. Apprently Rose has a lot of sway over the Princess too.

Marinette changes the conversation while. Waiting for her babysitter, Ghoul, to leave class. She needs a distraction from her situation that the Flash was willing to give her.

“Can i look at the case again? Something doesnt add up... there! See? Its close to the Speedsters that leave marks at those angles but only if they really mess with the speed force and the spacetime continuum! But theres no evidence of that, its a lightning meta, Possibly using it to teleport since no one came in or out on camera. Its a slight angle and all but...”

Flash decides Marinette will join the Justice League one day or so help him! He also decides to target france’s anti-meta policies and possibly kidnap Marinette.

The League isnt letting him. But he has a fan of Barry Allen who is handling Gotham’s criminals and beign given slack by them... albeit also raised by in-part. But the girl has a strong moral compass that is a lot like most of League’s so.

He’s fighting Bats for custody on principle. His fangirl, he has dibs!

Dont know why it ended up with Flash becoming a ‘Marinette is my daughter now’ person but why not? Wally would like her as a sister, probably.

Marinette blames all of this and the future consequences on Tim. She hates her vanishing freind for this.

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad strange #marinette strange dupain cheng #accidental secret identity solves #my au #my ideas #justice league is trying to get mari and there will be a custody battle #not just between heroes and rogues #but each other becuase yep. too many claims #wait until she gets tikki and diana throws her hat into the mentor ring

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violetsmoak · 4 years

Text

Philtatos [13/?]

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: #fatal flaw #secrets #riddle #fate #revenge #oracle #betrayal #prophecy #jealousy

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Tim feels a little bad about using Jason’s skin hunger against him but only for a moment. Any concern about that vanishes when he peeks back at Jason as they walk, and observes the color returning to the other man’s cheeks. The hand clasped in his own stops shaking the longer they touch.

Tim has never been one to enjoy holding hands—often he’s felt uncomfortable or self-conscious, worrying about sweaty fingers or whether the other person might consider it lame—but this doesn’t feel like that.

This feels right.

It’s actually concerning how right it feels, especially in light of his recent discussion with Steph.

Stop it. This isn’t about you. It’s about putting Jason at ease.

They return to the containment unit to find Barbara facing down Eros—an impressive feat considering she’s in a wheelchair and he’s the one looking down on her. Her face is drawn in irritation, and he’s gratified to see that Eros seems put-out about something.

“Took you long enough. Cherry here says she’s got a bonafide prophecy from the Oracle of Delphi and wouldn’t share it until you got back.” He eyes their entwined hands and leers. “I take it the domestics are going well?”

“Get bent,” Tim snaps in irritation as Jason tugs his hand back so fast he might as well have been burned.

“Only if you do the honors, pretty boy.”

Jason growls and makes a move for his gun, but Tim reaches out to stop him.

“Can you not tease him?” he demands of Eros. “Especially when the only reason he’s like this is because of you.”

“Oh, if only you knew…”

Before Tim can comment on that, Jason interrupts.

“What’s the feathered freak talkin’ about?” he snaps, radiating tension. “What prophecy?”

“The one Signal was able to recover from the girl that was killed,” Barbara says coolly. “He transcribed it and sent it along. Do you want to hear it, or do you want to keep acting like a child?”

This she directs at Eros, who actually does look chastised a beat, before gracing her with a cool smile.

“I guess it is apropos if you do the honors, darlin’,” Eros says with a cool smile. “Is it ironic or coincidental if someone who stole the title of oracle interprets a prophecy from the actual Oracle of Delphi?”

“Who cares? This whole situation is making me hate both irony and coincidence,” Tim says.

“It’s making me wonder if there are any coincidences,” Jason mutters, eyes fixed on Eros in intense dislike.

Barbara offers him an identical look, before thumbing the screen of her phone and opening her incoming messages.

Then she begins to read:

“The Unseen darkness cannot keep its captive thrice for mortal masks the divine that seeks its reward in the city where dark nights conceal the greatest of secrets.

“Crossed beneath the stars when the Rager’s Moon is full, eternal freedom is neigh upon the eleventh moment of the small hour.The sacrifice of the virgin gifts triumph to the prisoner and that which drowned in Lethe’s tears is reborn.

“But take heed, for the winged scion of Cythera, willingly blinded by the veil of vengeance revealed by Discord’s most cursed boon, awakens the warrior guided by the Physicians heir.

“Fury dooms the fair, heralding the return of magnificent Alexandros and one whose name is painted in blood and stone.

“Greatest of loves, damned by the gleam of a golden barb, torn asunder by jealousy and parted by cruel death, they will stand against Strife.

“Titans will rise and one who Death names hero, betrayed yet shielded by love, will sunder the chains of Aidoneus and avenge the victim of grievance. One will be born anew, the other bound eternally to Stygian Darkness.”

There is silence as she puts the phone down, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“What?” Tim says.

“I see your ‘what’ and raise you a ‘the fuck’,” Jason adds. “Does any of that make sense to anyone else? Because it don't make sense to me.”

“Blame my uncle,” Eros says, apparently annoyed.

“What? Why?” Tim wants to know. “Which one’s he?”

“Apollo,” Barbara says, still considering the puzzling words on the screen. “Aside from being a sun god, he was also the god of prophecy.”

“Talking in riddles is his favorite pastime,” Eros agrees. “It’s a pain in the ass.”

“I’ll bet,” Tim agrees. “We’ve got someone like that here in Gotham.”

“Yeah, and he’s a frequent guest of Arkham, so what’s that tell you?” Jason grumbles.

“That people who come up with riddles have too much time on their hands.”

“There’s a reason the Oracles of Delphi didn’t put their predictions into simple words,” Barbara points out. ”If you give people information about what’s coming, how do you know you’re not ensuring it will or won’t come to pass? It was important for them to be seen as the medium of the message and not an agent.

“By keeping information vague, it would seem like they were allowing a querant the chance to defy fate, while at the same time allowing fate to take its natural course, whatever that might be,” Eros agrees. “Ans it was good insurance. Even Oracles needed to cover their asses. You were less likely to get your head lopped off by a visiting king that received news he didn’t want to hear. And whatever the outcome, they could still say, ‘we told you so’.” He considers Barbara. “You know, I don’t usually find brainy sexy, but you might just turn me.”

“I’m thrilled,” she deadpans.

“So what’s all this supposed to mean, anyway?” Tim asks, trying to bring the discussion back to the matter at hand.

“It could mean anything. Though to start with, that bit about ‘unseen darkness’, that’s an epithet for the Underworld in old Hellenic documents.”

“We called it that in the old days,” Eros confirms.

“And then there’s the part about someone captive in Hades.”

“I thought Hades was a person?” Tim says.

“It is. But it’s also a place.” Jason tells him.

“It depends on what story and what source you��re drawing from,” Barbara elaborates. “And what translation.”

“What about the next bit? About mortal maskin' the divine?”

“Could that mean whoever’s possessing Carrie Cutter?” Tim suggests. “We’ve already established she’s got help from a god, and if they’re inhabiting her body even for short amounts of time, it’s a pretty effective mask.”

“No doubt,” Eros agrees. “Not so sure about that part with dark nights, but I guess it’s referring to this cesspool you people call a city.”

Tim, Jason and Barbara exchange glances, knowing exactly how dark nights and secrets relate to their city.

Maybe Duke misheard. It might not be dark ‘nights’ so much as dark ‘knights’. Which makes sense, considering Bruce and Dick both have that title depending on the day.

“Safe to say it’s Gotham,” Tim confirms. “So all that begs the question, do you have any idea who’s locked in the Underworld trying to get out?”

Eros snorts. “The better question is who isn’t locked in the Underworld.”

Jason is glaring furiously at Eros, clearly growing tired of his evasive and snarky answers. The way his fists clench, Tim suspects he’s close to throwing a punch at the glass in frustration. Not something Tim wants to see, especially given Jason’s injuries from their altercation with Carrie Cutter and Dick haven’t even been seen to yet.

God, it feels like it was days ago but it was only hours. He probably came right here to confront Eros without even looking after himself.

He has to put that out of his mind for now. Deciphering any clues in the prophecy takes momentary precedence.

“…. A lot of myths end with someone displeasing a god and getting sent to Tartarus, so he has a point,” Barbara is saying, her thumbs busily texting something on her phone.

“So that’s not going to tell us anything,” Tim decides. “What about the ‘crossed beneath the stars’ part?”

“More of the same in terms of pinpointing when everything is supposed to happen,” Eros says.

“Which is when?”

“November twenty-third,” Barbara says, frowning at the small screen in her hand.

Jason looks askance. “How d’you know?”

“'Moon’ equates to month, and another name for Zeus was the Rager,” she replies. “So, Zeus’s month. According to the Athenian calendars we still have access to, Zeus’s month was Maimakterion—which in modern times would fall somewhere between November and December. And the next full moon—” She holds up her phone, showing a lunar calendar for the month, “—falls on November twenty-third. It’s the only full moon that falls during Maimakterion.”

Eros nods along in approval. “What she said.”

“And the small hour?”

“Midnight.”

“So, whatever’s supposed to happen is going to happen eleven minutes after midnight…assuming that’s what moment means,” Tim muses, glancing at his own phone calendar. “That’s this Friday.”

“Five days from now,” Jason agrees, and side-eyes Tim. “We’ve all had shorter deadlines.”

“That’s not necessarily referring to your deadline, sweet cheeks,” Eros reminds him. “I figure you have about half that.”

“No thanks to you.”

“You know, the last Jason I knew wasn’t this whiny.”

“Children,” Barbara says sharply. “Let’s stay focused, shall we? I’m concerned about this virgin sacrifice part—specifically the part where it ensures success for someone we probably don’t want to succeed.”

“Cutter did kill that girl,” Tim reminds them. “Maybe it was some kind of offering, so she’d be successful at whatever she’s trying to do.”

“It’s a good an explanation as anything else,” Eros agrees, examining his nails. “We always did love our human sacrifices. And a virgin does increase the likelihood of something working out to your advantage.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Jason growls. “That’s a kid you’re talking about!”

“And as an Oracle of Delphi she’s entitled to an eternity of bliss once she enters the Underworld,” Eros dismisses. “It’s a better end than some people are entitled to.”

Jason’s eyes blaze as if that’s a personal insult. Tim can certainly empathize.

“What about the second part?” he prompts. “What’s Lethe?”

“The Lethe was the river the souls drank from to forget their previous lives before being reincarnated,” Barbara explains.

“The Ancient Greeks believed in reincarnation? But I thought that was something from the Far East?”

“Many ancient cultures had a concept of reincarnation beyond the Hindu and Buddhist mythos,” Barbara explains. “Just look at the belief systems of the indigenous peoples of North America and you’ll see countless examples. And they didn’t have any contact with the civilizations of Asia during the time when those faiths were evolving.”

Beside Tim, Jason is as stiff as a board and appears to be having trouble breathing. Automatically, Tim edges closer to him, and though he doesn’t outright take his hand—he leans into him, nudging him with his shoulder.

Jason’s eyes dart to him for a moment, and he relaxes incrementally.

“How does that relate here though?” Barbara wants to know.

“Maybe the prisoner forgot something,” Eros suggests, not sounding very interested.

“Or maybe whoever’s tryin' to escape Hades as made to forget something,” Jason counters darkly.

“Only mortals can be made to forget by drinking from the Lethe,” Barbara says. “The prisoner could have been human. Salmoneus or Tantalus or one of the Dainads.”

Tim doesn’t even get a chance to question who they are before Eros interrupts. “Actually, it’s a little broader than just mortals. More like mortals, demigods that haven’t consumed ambrosia, giants, hybrids—”

“So again, we’re back to a broad spectrum of people it could be talkin' about,” Jason complains. “Great. Is there anyone or anything in this stupid prophecy that isn’t doublespeak?”

“Well, the next verse is pretty self-explanatory. Obviously, we’re talking about yours truly,” Eros says, pointing at himself. “What other 'winged son' do you know from mythology?”

“A case could be made for Pegasus.”

“No, it’s Eros,” Tim says. “Cythera’s another name for Aphrodite.” Everyone looks at him in surprise.

“How do you know that?” Jason asks, but where the emphasis ought to suggest incredulity, he sounds impressed.

Tim tries not to bask in that.

“My parents used to visit the island of Cythera a lot when they weren’t on business trips, especially before I was born. It was their favorite vacation destination. Full of history, not touristy—they didn’t like having to socialize with people when they were on vacation.”

Tim falls silent then, remembering sitting in his living room with his parents, pouring over their vacation photos of the Mediterranean island while they told stories. They’d always promised to take him one day…

He glances up and notices the others are watching him now—Eros with a sharp, calculating gaze while Jason appears concerned. As for Barbara, she seems to sense his discomfort, because she navigates them past the lull. “Okay, so if it’s Eros, what are you wanting revenge for? It’s not exactly your M-O.”

“I can think of a few people who have it coming,” Eros answers. “Starting with my mother.”

“What’d she do?” Tim asks.

“Do you have a few centuries worth of couch time?”

“Isn’t she the reason your wife died?” Barbara wants to know. “In the myth, she survived, but Tim told me that's not what happened in reality.”

Eros expression goes cold.

“That’s right,” Tim remembers; he and Eros had this conversation a few days ago, didn’t they? “Aphrodite is the one who sent Psyche to the underworld.”

Eros bares his teeth. “One of her many sins, but not the only one.”

“Then couldn’t the prophecy maybe be referring to her? Psyche, I mean? Maybe she’s the prisoner.”

“Are you implying my wife is the one behind your Cupid’s actions?” Eros growls. “Because that’s impossible.”

“How would you know? It could be—”

“Because she died a mortal! Her soul is mortal and wouldn’t have the power to escape the Underworld in any capacity! Furthermore, Psyche would never kill or arrange the death of anyone! She was good and pure of soul and that’s why I fell in love with her.”

“That’s not what I read,” Barbra says. “Didn’t you prick yourself on one of your golden arrows while watching her?”

“I pricked myself because I fell in love with her,” he snaps. “I’ve already told Jason here that the arrows only work to magnify emotions that are already there.”

“That makes no sense. You liked her before you made yourself fall in love with her?”

“Look, you know the story: Psyche was beautiful. So much so, that the idiots in her kingdom started treating her like a living goddess, bringing the gifts meant for my mother to this human princess. You can guess how well that went over.”

“Right. She sent you to make her fall in love with a horrible beast.”

“Yeah, one of Diomedes mares. Gorgeous animals—people would stop and stare at them for hours. Also, vicious, flesh-eating beasts. Just getting to close to one of those and it would have ripped her to shreds—and she would have stood there and let it.” Eros’ expression becomes soft, eyes faraway at the memory. “If she had been some arrogant, selfish royal I would have let it happen. But I watched her for days while I tried to put her in the path of that thing. And everything she did was just good and kind. I had never seen as pure a soul like hers.” He shakes his head. “The idea of a girl like that being sent to her death just because a bunch of idiot humans had the audacity to praise her alongside my mother didn’t seem fair.”

“And you’re all about fair, aren’t you?” Jason sneers.

Tim has to agree; if Eros cared about fair, he would have been a lot more helpful about curing Jason and wouldn’t have demanded they find his diviners beforehand.

“I was young and stupid, and I didn’t realize the world didn’t work that way,” Eros dismisses. “Even for gods. I thought my mother would never want to harm me—and so if I put Psyche under my protection, she couldn’t hurt her. And if I could show my mother what a good wife Psyche was, even if she was unable to see me, it would prove the point.” He snorts. “It didn’t exactly go my way.”

“And there’s no way her soul could have somehow been corrupted when she died?”

“The Underworld is stagnant. There’s no such thing as change or time there. Everything occurs both in one moment and in all moments there.”

“So you’re saying a soul going in would remain in the same state as it was when it died,” Barbara posits.

“Exactly. How else do you expect the judges to judge souls if they kept changing after death? It’d be a headache.

“Then if it’s not Psyche, who else can you think of that it might be?”

“It might be more than one person,” Tim suggests. “That line about 'greatest of loves'—what if that’s why Carrie’s been targeting couples? She hears the prophecy—or whoever’s riding along inside her hears the prophecy—and thinks there’s a couple out there that’s going to stand against her. She could be trying to eliminate potential threats to her end goal.”

“If so, we need to decipher her criteria for choosing her victims. You already said it didn’t seem like they had anything in common.”

“We’ll have to check again. Maybe now that we’ve got this prophecy, something new will jump out.”

“We skipped a whole verse,” Jason points out. “The ‘warrior guided by the physician’s heir’. Any ideas?”

Eros shrugs. “Since the rest of the prophecy involves me, I’d say it’s me.”

“How do you figure?”

“The Physician is another name for Apollo.”

“So?”

“So, who do you think taught me archery? Next to him, I’m the greatest archer among the Olympians.”

“Or it could be Jason,” Tim ponders.

Jason seems to go pale, almost panicked. “What?”

“I mean, assuming you’re interpreting ‘awaken’ by activating the way you do with a sleeper agent. You infected him with your blood however accidentally and then pressed him into doing your dirty work.”

“I resent your tone, boy,” Eros grumbles, but Jason interjects, “And the other bit?”

“The other bit is just really literal,” Barbara catches on. “Jason, you were trained by Batman. Who was the heir to an actual physician. The M.D. kind.”

Thomas Wayne.

Jason looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information. “Shit.”

Eros watches Jason, inscrutable eyes considering; Jason glares back at him as if waiting for him to make a comment.

“But if it’s Jason, the next bit wouldn’t make sense,” Barbara says after a moment. “‘Magnificent Alexandros’. The only Alexandros I can think of off the top of my head if Alexander of Macedon. But that doesn’t really track with the rest of the verse. He was a historical figure, not mythological.”

“That’s offensive, you know,” Eros drawls. “All those stories you call mythology actually happened.”

“Then why don’t we have an archaeological record for them?”

“Because screw you, that’s why.”

“If it is talking about Alexander the Great, Robin will be happy,” Tim says with a rueful smirk.

Jason is perplexed. “Why?”

“Apparently he was on the list of the kid’s League-approved childhood heroes. Mother-son bonding time seems to have included traveling in his footsteps as preparation for world domination.”

Jason looks surprised and amused. “Really?”

“Is it that surprising?”

“No, it’s just…” Jason shakes his head. “Never mind.” He clears his throat. “So, back to the prophecy. It talks about the Titans—are we talkin' the creatures the Olympian gods overthrew?”

“Well, whenever one of us mention the Titans, it is usually those bottom feeders rotting in Tartarus, yes,” Eros says dryly, inscrutable focussed on Jason. “Them going free is never a good thing. Don’t believe me, read the Titanomachy. Hesiod got it pretty close to right.”

“Could be the goal, could be the result,” Tim suggests.

“Which brings us back to possibly being on the lookout for more than one prisoner escaping Hades,” Barbara says.

“And all of that leads us to the typical ‘one shall live and one shall die’ device,” Eros concludes.

“Only we don’t know who either of those is.”

“I can tell you now if it’s a prophecy involving me, I have no intention of dying."

“If it’s even about you. It’s not really an exact science, interpreting this sort of thing,” Barbara warns. “Even an Olympian like you can misunderstand—there’s evidence of that in the myths. In fact, I’m sure we’re missing more than is good for us. It will take some time to decipher it and we need more information.”

“At least we have something,” Tim maintains. “The exact date when it’s going to happen and where. We can begin preparing for that.”

“It’s a whole hell of a lot to think about,” Jason agrees.

“Which you can do back at the Cave. We only came here to see if Eros could shed some light on the prophecy or see the arrows.”

“What arrows?”

“Wonder Girl told us that to reverse what’s been done to Nightwing is to remove the arrow that Carrie stabbed him with.”

“Uh, there is no arrow,” Jason says. “Cupid took it with her, remember?”

“I guess that answers that question,” Barbara sighs. “You can’t see them.”

“Of course he can’t,” Eros says. “I’m the only one that can see the wounds caused by my arrows. Even this pseudo-Cupid wouldn’t be able to see them.”

“After she stabbed Jason she seemed to be looking for something, so I’m not sure about that,” Tim argues.

“She can’t see them. Though it may be possible her divine passenger might. I don't know. Never had another god take my diviners before."

“Speaking of being stabbed,” Tim goes on, nodding at the bruises coming out on his face. There are likely more hidden by the leather jacket and gear. “You should get those looked at.”

“I didn’t physically get stabbed, you know. Magic wounds don’t need to be looked at.”

“You went toe-to-toe with an enhanced fighter and Batman. You could have internal bleeding for all we know.”

“If you think a little tussle with that dick is going to do lastin' damage—”

Tim cuts off his indignation. “I don’t, but you haven’t been eating or sleeping properly, and your system is already compromised, so how do you know what damage was or wasn’t done? You didn’t stay to get treated at the Cave.”

Their eyes meet, remembering exactly why that is, and Tim’s cheeks darken. Jason is the first to look away, though.

“It’s nothin'. I can patch myself up whenever.”

“I can help—”

“I’m good.”

“Jason—”

“I’m an adult and I’ve been treatin' myself without help for years now,” Jason interrupts tensely. When Tim can’t stop himself from flinching, Jason’s eyes flash with dismay. “I mean…” He flounders like he’s trying to take it back, and instead changes the subject. “Didn’t you say somethin' about a list? Maybe get started on that and I’ll do an injury check myself.”

It’s a clear cop-out, and if they were alone, Tim would be calling him on it.

“I’ll ask for help if I need any,” he adds, awkwardly, like it’s been a long time since anyone actually cared about his injuries being treated.

Barbara glances between the two of them, obviously sensing the undertone, but not commenting on it. Instead, she says, “I don’t mind helping Jason. Besides, Red Robin needs to contact the Family and let them know what we know.”

“And I need food,” Eros says. “I haven’t eaten since before you went on your little reconnaissance mission. Can’t you see? I’m wasting away.”

“If only,” Jason mutters.

Tim is torn, wanting to argue that he can help Jason, but at the same time trying to respect the other man’s obvious need for distance.

At last, he nods.

“Okay,” he says, feeling a little defeated. “Let’s take a break. I’ll make a food run…you get yourself fixed up.”

“Whatever you say, babybird.”

⁂

Once Tim vanishes, Barbie indicates with a jerk of her head that Jason should follow her upstairs to the Nest medbay. He knows better than to think it’s just her wanting to take a look at his injuries—like him, she’s probably looking for some privacy.

They take the elevator up in silence, and Jason wonders vaguely when the last time was, he was this close to Barbara Gordon.

I don’t think I have been, actually. We both avoid the manor unless there’s no choice. And we both have good reasons for it. And when we are there together, there’s usually about six to ten feet of distance between us.

They were never what he would call close before she was paralyzed and he died. Barbie was Dick’s girl and Jason’s occasional babysitter until the Joker ruined her life. And then she wasn’t around at all. Jason wasn’t alive to watch her painstakingly drag herself up and pull it together again, so he never got the chance to interact with the Barbara Gordon that became Oracle.

Since returning to Gotham he’s kept her at a distance as much as he did the rest of the Family, so it’s somewhat surprising to him that she’s here now and working to help him.

Probably it’s on account of Tim.

Still silent, they enter the surgically pristine room of the Nest’s medical wing—and Jason is a little jealous of the supplies here. It makes the kits he has in his safehouses about as sophisticated as a needle and threat.

Barbie watches him, framed in the doorway.

“Well? Spit it out,” he grunts, deciding to get whatever reprimands are forthcoming out of the way.

Her look turns sharp before she reaches into her jacket pocket for something; Jason can’t help tensing up, even though she knows the likelihood of her pulling a weapon on him are slim to none.

That suspicion is confirmed when she instead draws out a device and turns it on; there’s a high-pitched background whir that Jason recognizes as a listening device scrambler.

Clearly we’re both aware of what a paranoid freak Timbers can be.

“Okay, Jason, what’s going on?” she asks without preamble. “You know Tim only wants to help you.”

“Yeah, at his own expense,” he retorts sourly.

Barbies raises an eyebrow as if waiting for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, she presses, “You’re being cagey. And it’s more than just worrying about losing control around Tim, I can tell.”

“Oh you can, can you?” he challenges.

“I’ve known you since you were still desperately trying to live up to Dick while pretending like you didn’t care. I know when you’re hiding something,” she folds her arms. “Believe it or not, Jason, you’re a terrible liar when it comes to things that matter.”

It’s reflex to want to say something caustic to that, but he stops himself in time. He needs Barbara’s help and pissing her off isn’t going to make his life any easier.

“I need a favor,” he admits after a beat.

“Another one?” she repeats, sounding like she doesn’t believe him. “You’re going to owe me a lot.”

“Yeah, well, now would be the time to collect on those debts while I still can.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means everyone else is tiptoein' around the subject, but at some point, I’m gonna need to be put under,” he says, erring on the side of just enough truth to keep her from questioning him further. “We both know what I’m talkin' about here.”

As expected, Barbara only just keeps herself from visibly recoiling; she’s already ready with an argument. “You don’t know we won’t find something before that happens.”

“I’m already feelin' like I’m livin' in someone else’s skin—” Literally, in a way. “—I’m not gonna get any better than I am right now. We’ve already seen what it looks like when I dip toward worse. So while I’m still lucid, let me make my decisions. And my decision is, I’d rather go under while I’m still me instead of violent, mindless…reaver.”

Barbara does a minor double-take. “Did you just make a Firefly reference?”

“It’s the last series I was watching before I died,” Jason says, a little defensive.

“I’m not judging, just surprised. Dick and Tim are usually the ones making pop-culture references to deflect. I’m not used to it from you.”

“And I’m not used to you stallin',” he counters. “You’re different from the other Bats, O. You know how to cut your losses, and you know how to make decisions when no one else wants to think about it. You get makin' the hard calls. So, I’m gonna ask you: when it comes down to a choice between me and Tim—and I mean when, not if—who do you save?”

Something like pain passes over her face, and then resolve hardens her face. “Tim.”

“Exactly,” he approves. “Because unlike me, he’s good. And smart.”

“You’re both of those things, even if you pretend like you’re not,” she protests.

“And he hasn’t committed multiple murders,” Jason continues, acting like he didn’t hear her. “Not that what I’ve done wasn’t justified. It wasn’t good, but I don’t regret it because I will go to my grave believin' sometimes that line needs to be crossed. Again. But it’s still a line Tim’s been lucky enough not to have to cross.”

She doesn’t argue with him, instead inclines her head.

“More people will miss him if he were gone then they would me,” Jason concludes. “I’m not supposed to be here anyway.”

There’s a long beat of measuring silence. Then, Barbara sighs. “What is it you need, Jason?”

He tilts his chin in gratitude.

“I didn’t just come here to yell at Eros,” he admits. “If Wonder Woman doesn’t show up, he’s the only one I know who has access to the stuff I need.”

“The Stygian Sleep.”

“Yeah. But it’s probably in GCPD lock-up.” He gives her a quick run-down of events, minus anything about Eros’ intentional plan to infect him. Babs listens, jaw set and eyes narrowed; given what she just said about him, she likely knows he’s not being completely truthful, but his explanation clearly holds enough water that she doesn’t call him on it.

“I’ll get someone to look into it,” she decides at last.

Which, even though he’s relieved about, he’s also suspicious.

“And by ‘look into’ you mean grab hold of and perform a million tests on it before handin' it over,” he posits.

“Just because you’re hellbent on using something that’s effectively going to kill you doesn’t mean I don’t want to know everything about it first,” she says, unapologetic. “Like the prophecy, it might have clues about how to circumvent it.”

“Yeah, because we’re having so much luck with that.”

“Also, when Bruce comes to me later in a righteous fury for letting his son die a second time, I’ll be able to assure him we knew everything we did about it before making an informed decision.”

Jason doesn’t pretend to believe that’s the end of it. Barbara might be willing to humor Jason a little more than Bruce, or even Dick when he’s not compromised—she might even be a little more objective in considering things, but she’s not going to trust Jason’s plan to be the only plan. She’ll have her own contingencies, the same as any Bat.

The only difference with Babs is that once it’s over and done with, and it becomes clear there’s no saving him, she’ll have an easier time getting over it than Bruce will. And she won’t let it compromise her work.

Tim’s told Jason what Bruce and Dick were like after he died the first time, and if it happens again, Gotham needs someone competent in keeping things in check.

And Tim…

Jason’s heart thuds with guilt.

This time, Tim won’t just be sweeping in to pick up the broken pieces of Batman and Nightwing as he did as a kid. He won’t be watching it from the sidelines.

The memory hits him then. To his surprise, it’s not from Achilleus or Alexandros.

Jason hates Wayne Charity galas.

People are always staring at him, murmuring through pasted-on smiles that even if he couldn’t read lips, he would be able to hear the judgment dripping from their words. These people are so achingly dry and genteel, their teeth don’t even unclench around their vowels.

Bruce doesn’t make him come to all that many of these shindigs, thankfully; only the ones involving children’s advocacy and the like. Jason doesn’t mind those too much, considering their purpose. He just hates that even at those—like the one tonight—he’s the only kid that has to parade around in the straitjacket Alfred calls a tux.

He gets it, of course; he’s the poster-boy, the success story, a means of showing the rich snobs how well a dirty Crime Alley orphan can clean up so that they’ll open their checkbooks.

It doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Except for tonight, for the first time, he noticed another kid that’s been dragged along. A tiny boy whose meticulously fitted tux still manages to look too big for him.

A man and woman who must be his parents are chatting with another couple, seemingly oblivious to the way their son is staring into the distance, a neutrally polite expression fixed on his face. He might as well be sleeping standing up, and Jason has the odd suspicion that’s by design.

That makes his mouth twitch; maybe rich kids get bored with this kind of thing too.

Jason keeps staring across the manor ballroom until the strange kid senses his gaze and looks up. He grins when the boy’s eyes widen—their color is startling, even from across the room, and they take up practically his whole face—and wonders at the sudden flood of color in his cheeks.

He’s about to motion the boy over to the edge of the reception area—hanging out with another kid, even a little one, will definitely break up the monotony of the evening—when Bruce’s hand falls hard on his shoulder.

“Time to make an exit, son,” he says, voice quiet and intense and incongruent with the false smile he’s still beaming at everyone within a ten-foot radius. From the distracted note in his words, Jason doesn’t even need to look out the window to see the signal lighting up the sky.

They meet Felipe Garzonas that night, and he doesn’t think of the boy again.

Jason shudders as the technicolor recollection fades out, his stomach twisting angrily.

He’s never made the connection between Tim and the boy at the fundraiser before. It occurs to him how stupid that was—at the same time it occurs to him that if not for that case that night, he might not have been on the outs with Bruce. He might have endured more Wayne event galas instead of limiting whatever time he was with Bruce to being Robin by night. He might have gotten to know Tim in this life, instead of dying.

He might not be in this damned predicament right now.

“Jason?”

He looks up, realizes that Barbie is watching him with concern. He is quick to revisit their conversation and mutters, “Yeah, fine. Just make sure the stuff actually makes it to me before my brain dribbles out of my head, okay?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” she replies, reaching out to turn off the scrambler device, though she continues to exude suspicion.

“All Bats are dramatic, or have you forgotten?” he quips back, offering an irreverent smirk to cover up.

“Hard to forget something you live with every day,” she returns dryly. “Now get over here and let me check you over.”

“You don’t need to,” he points out. “I’ve had worse than this, you know.”

“Yes, yes, we’re all aware you’ve died and come back, who hasn’t these days?” she returns. “Now, shirt off, or I’m telling Tim you didn’t do what you said you would.”

Jason glares. “This is going to become a thing, isn’t it? You people using Tim to make me do things.”

“Things that are for your own good, yes. Now strip, Todd.”

“Yes, mother…”

“You wish your mother was as cool as me.”

Which Jason can’t argue with, because she’s right; he’s had a total of three mother figures in his life (two of which he’s not sure even qualify because of how messed up they were), and none of them have been as capable or decent as Barbara Gordon.

Once he’s shrugged his top half out of the body armor and leather, she reaches for him.

Jason experiences a nauseous swoop in his stomach at the idea of anyone but Tim putting hands on him. Instantly, his hand snaps up and knocks hers back.

“Don’t touch me!” he snarls.

Barbara pulls away, watching him with a raised eyebrow and instantly Jason is overwhelmed with shame.

“Sorry,” he bites out. “I didn’t mean…”

“We can wait for Tim to get back,” she suggests, instantly understanding.

Alarms blare in his head at the thought; he shakes his head. “No. No, I’m…I’m good. Now that I’m expectin' it.”

She considers him several beats longer and then makes the next attempt to check his injuries. This time he concentrates on forcing the sick feeling away and tries to ignore how it feels like someone is rubbing sandpaper across his skin.

That’s a new symptom. Great. Because it wasn’t enough that I’ve been trying to claw my skin of myself, now other people get to do it too…

Barbara checks him over with quiet efficiency, evaluating the shallow slash between his arm and shoulder which his armor didn’t cover, as well the bruising along his hips, elbows and lower back.

“It could be worse,” she decides eventually, considering the mottled purpling across his chest. “Ribs are bruised, not broken.”

“I could've told you that…”

“And were you going to tell me about that?” she points at his shoulder and the spiderweb of gold leeching out around the long-healed-over bullet wound. From the way he’s been itching at it this past day, he doesn’t need a mirror to know it’s beginning to creep up his neck as well. “How long has it been growing like that?”

“Pretty much since I got it,” he replies.

She reaches up, brow furrowed and reaches toward one of the raised lines winding toward his chest. Again, he braces himself for the pain of the touch his body doesn’t want.

Thankfully, she barely grazes that. “You haven’t been keeping better track, have you? It might give us a more specific idea of how much time you have.”

“How so?”

“The same as any poison, I would guess. The closer it gets to your heart, the less time you have.”

He frowns. “At this point, I don’t think it even matters.”

Movement outside of the med bay window draws his attention, and he across the floor to see Tim climbing the stairs from the ground floor.

Jason is quick to grab his shirt and tug it on; it’s not something he wants to discuss with Tim just yet.

Barbara watches him, lips pursed in worry and disapproval, but he could care less about the latter. She knows his thoughts on this, and she’ll respect them.

Tim strides in and then slows like he’s wondering if he’s supposed to knock or not.

“How are you doing?” he asks, hesitant like he’s afraid expressing concern will set Jason off like a bomb.

Guilt hits him at that, but he forces himself to remain calm and blank-faced. “Fine.”

“I have to go,” Barbie announces, maneuvering her chair toward the door. “I need to go back to the Cave and check on Dick’s condition. I don’t know how long it will be before he tries to escape or pull something to keep from going nuts.”

“Also, it’d be nice if this month was one of the ones where Alfred doesn’t get knocked out,” Tim suggests with false levity.

“Or lose a hand,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Exactly. And whether he knows it or not, Feathers downstairs gave me some ideas about how to remove the arrow,” Barbie says as they leave the med bay.

“I should come with you.”

“No.” Both Barbara and Tim speak at the same time, but she’s the one that keeps talking. “You should stay here.”

“Not sure that’s the best idea.”

“I think it is,” Tim counters. “It will keep us out of everyone’s hair and they’ll know where we are.” His tone is reasonable—too reasonable; clearly Timmy has some ulterior motives.

Whether those motives are to circumvent Bruce or Jason’s plans, he doesn’t care. But one thing is for sure. “They can know where we are if we’re at the manor.”

And isn’t that a reversal—Jason being the one to insist on that?

I need to have people around because I don’t trust myself right now.

The mutinous expression is back on Tim’s face, before he visibly switches tactics.

“Okay, how about this,” he suggests, tone only a shade off exasperated. “Why don’t you go lie down somewhere and try to catch a few hours' sleep? If you’re sleeping, you’re not doing anything else, right? And then we’ll either go back to the Cave or see if anyone can be spared to chaperone here.”

“There’s no need for that,” a voice says, and they all look up to see Damian stride in still in full Robin-gear.

Tim scowls. “How did you get in here?”

“It was fairly simple,” the kid snorts. “A fish tank, Drake? Really?”

Tim looks like he wants to protest, but Jason chuckles. “It was kind of obvious, babybird.”

“You can barely take care of yourself, and you expect someone with a brain to believe you have the patience to care for fish?” the boy continues. “Exactly who do you think has been feeding them when you forget?”

Tim gapes. “You…break into my apartment…to feed my fish?”

Jason can’t help the loud guffaw that escapes at that, earning two equally unimpressed glares in return. He doesn’t care—that might be the funniest thing he’s heard in days.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Barbara says and wheels out of the room. “Try not to kill each other, boys. Alfred would be unhappy about it.”

“Luckily, we are standing in a well-stocked room with several methods for resuscitating a dead body,” Damian replies easily.

“Don’t you have school?” Tim grumbles.

“It’s Sunday, Drake.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I have been sent to babysit you two and put Todd down with extreme prejudice should he try anything.

Which Tim gapes and, while Jason is…kind of relieved about.

“Aw, Dami, I knew you cared,” he teases.

“Don’t address me with that infantile drivel!”

Tim sighs.

“Just don’t set anything on fire while you’re here…”

⁂⁂⁂

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

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

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bluebeetle · 4 years

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15 for the superhero ask just DO IT

ok rant about a fave where do I BEGIN. actually i have a bunch of onions sorry.

ok 1) wanda maximoff deserves so much better than all the BS she’s been put through with all the trauma and acting like mental illness makes you a villain and then trying to erase her jewishness like UGH. also white washing her in the movies AND barely having her interact with her kids (especially poor tommy)

2) wally west. HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT WALLY HAS BEEN THROUGH?????? ok first, barry allen comes back in the 00s even when no one wanted that white bread boring ass who died in the 80s. he shoulda stayed dead. and basically barry replaces wally as the flash and wally gets screwed over for awhile (and is even mean to hartley during countdown which is sooo OOC). then wally dies in flashpoint bc barry allen wanted his mommy.

then the reset happens and… wally doesn’t show up for THREE. YEARS. Three Full Years. and when he comes back he’s black, which is chill except they then pull a vaguely racist white saviour story with barry and wally as the angry black kid, and completely erase wally’s personality while also giving him a bad costume. and then kinda ignore him for awhile

after that rebirth happens and they decided yknow what, wally HAS suffered too much. lets bring him back! and make him kid flash–oh wait sorry, thats two different wallys. yeah bc apparently appeasing racists is more important than giving the current wally west an actual good personality (Tho they do sort eventually do that, and a better costume) so they bring pre52 White Wally back and its annoying and dumb that thers two flash characters named Wally West with the exact same powers BUT THEN

they decide that fucking over wally fans isnt done yet because White Wally becomes a murderer for no reason except ableism against the mentally ill and having lost his family, tries to cover it up, and then gets like fucking??? doctor manhanttens powers??? for no reason like STOPPPPP also he hasnt talked to hartley, his bff, in like a decade now. thanks. anyways kienyan is Best Wally

3) ok dami’s been having a character assassination as well between that weird illegal prison he had (which??? is so ooc???? for him now??? maybe 2009 dami woulda done it but not 2019 dami???????) and then being blamed for alfreds death just. UGH.

4) when will the real dick grayson return from the war. also can writers stop implying his adoptive family isnt his real family lol

5) writers stop making bruce wayne an abusive dad challenge. hes a flawed father but he CARES. He LOVES JASON!! HE LOVES ALL HIS KIDS!! stop

6) speaking of bat fam, talia’s whole character assassination by taking her from a troubled femme fatale who was not overly cruel and did care about people and really truly loved bruce to a r*pist who is fine with killing her own ELEVEN YEAR OLD CHILD ???? yeah. fuck off. also racism

7) hey speaking of movies with wanda, i dont hate movie loki but i am so so sos so fucking mad that we will probably never get the genderfluid bisexual loki from the comics. UGH.

8) the fact that babs can walk again is BS and she shoulda been in bop esp since they erased cass’s disability. also cass has rly been screwed lately AND steph god

9) DUKE IS A ROBIN YALL GET IT TOGETHER

i could go on but there you go

#apojiiislands #dc #marvel #ask

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tepkunset · 5 years

Text

So here’s my extremely belated thoughts on Avengers: Infinity War asjdhadg basically a summary can be I am way too much of a gay X-Men comic stan for this bullshit

Everyone except Thor, Gamora, Rocket and Nebula really drank a full vat of dumb bitch juice for this one huh.

Like, it is really hard to be invested in the deaths of all the Wakandans treated like canon fodder in order to maybe save the life of one (1) robot man. I don’t care how sentient he is, I don’t care if he was a real person, no one in their right mind would actually risk the lives of not just a whole nation, the whole universe, for one person. The T’Challa I know certainly would never. He’d tell the Avengers to get their shit together and make the hard but necessary choice for the greater good of, you know, the universe. But no, he’s apparently super cool with letting all his people die because MCU’s version of Scarlet Witch thinks her robot boyfriend is more important.

And don’t even get me started on Iron Man, Dr. Strange, Spider-Man and the Guardians up in space. Here’s an idea, why doesn’t Strange just do the exact same thing Wong did in the beginning of the movie and use a portal to just cut off the glove? Or better yet, the head? Why would you show that as an option and then not do it with the big bad guy??? And then. Oh my god. And then Star-Lord what, starts slapping him around for... what reason, exactly? Because he killed Gamora? He was willing to suck it up and do what MCU’s Scarlet Witch wouldn’t and kill her himself because he trusted her, earlier. Don’t get me wrong, he should absolutely be furious and devastated, but I don’t see Nebula pulling that shit!

And yes, all these things are valid questions to ask, and I reject the notion that you’re supposed to ‘turn off your brain’ when watching a movie. It doesn’t work like that. Hell, even Deadpool 2 does a better job at explaining why obvious questions the audience will ask won’t work, even if it is for a joke about lazy writing, it’s better than no writing at all.

Speaking of Gamora’s death, I just about lost it over that. The way Thanos starts to cry and the music swells, and later the scene after he snaps and sees her as a girl... Do NOT tell me we are actually supposed to feel sorry for this ultimate moron. Then later in the film you have that scene with Okoye, MCU’s Black Widow and MCU’s Scarlet Witch teaming up as a ‘girl power’ moment I guess, but sorry dudes, you don’t get to do that after what you pulled with Gamora. Making her death all about the angst of the male villain. The villain, mind you. The villain who kidnapped her and abused her.

Maybe instead of trying to make Thanos sympathetic when you can’t--there is nothing sympathetic about a guy who’s so fucking stupid he thinks over-population is the cause of all problems and so he’s gonna kill everyone as a solution, when a basic fucking understanding of how society works is all it takes to know otherwise and that over-population is a myth--you just let him be horny for death like in the comics? Thanos is not that complicated a villain. I mean sure, you can have your villain’s big Fatal Flaw be that he’s the dumbest bitch in the galaxy. But for fuck sake, the fact that no one, no one at all ever points out that he’s wrong, but instead we have to listen to retcons about Gamora’s planet prospering because of his mass murder, tells me they actually thought he was being logical. Dumb bitch juice. You tried to make him complicated and ended up just making the entire movie nonsensical.

The only plot among the hundred different plots that made sense and I was actually invested in was Thor’s. Every time the movie went back to him, it was one giant relief. And even still, I hate that they basically quickly scrubbed their hands with all events of Ragnarok because they had other ideas. The movie opens up with everyone dead/dying. Valkyrie isn’t even mentioned. His lost eye full of symbolism? Who cares here’s a new robot one Rocket just happens to have.

I am honestly convinced the only reason Hulk didn’t come out is because 1) they blew their CGI budget already and 2) they knew better than to try and live up to the Hulk finally being competently written in Ragnarok.

But there were a few things I have to admit I had enjoyment from:

The full context makes this video even funnier.

Thor saying that Kevin Bacon might be an Avenger, he isn’t sure.

The scene where Bruce is like “do I bow” when meeting T’Challa, and Rhodey is like yeah he’s a king of course you bow.

“I am Groot.” “I am Steve Rogers.”

Like in general, I will cut this short and say most of the humour did make me laugh.

Thor’s badass entrance to the battlefield and Bruce is like “you’re all so fucked now.” Additionally, Thor actually doing damage to Thanos.

Bucky picking up Rocket and swinging him around and making a surprisingly good team up.

Rhodey finally being treated more like a real Avenger and allowed to interact with characters other than Tony.

Nebula continuing her tradition of flying ships into people.

Shuri demonstrating her intellect is higher than Bruce’s--this is a scene I was hoping for and was glad to get.

The battle scenes looked okay and were at least capable of following.

I’ll say it wasn’t as convoluted a mess as I was preparing myself for. But that’s not really a compliment considering I was basically coming in with the bar buried underground.

And are those few moments of levity enough to say I overall enjoyed the film? Honestly, not really. It’s not a film I never plan on watching again, but it’s not one I’m immediately eager to see again either. It’s the kind of film that if I had to give a number score, I’d give it a 5/10. Which hey, is better than the 1/10 that was Age of Ultron!

#avengers #infinity war #mcu #movie thoughts #fit for a queue

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jason-todd-deserved-better · 6 years

Text

Bite Me - Tim Drake x Reader

Requested by @astressedwriter : “For the sexual tension thing, ""bite me." With Tim drake ?? Love you! ❤” (ILY2, thank you for the request!)

A/N: Hello my dudes! I am here with another Tim story. (You have only done two, you dumb ass.) I’m kinda annoyed with how long this took but I’m happy on how this played out even though I wrote way more than I was expecting to for this. (Though this did come out more angsty rather than sexual tension-y, so sorry about that, but I tried 😅.) Anyway, hope you guys enjoy and be sure to let me know what you guys think! Love Y'all. Also, I hope all my fellow Floridians up in Panhandle are safe and sound because it looks extremely ugly up there and I know hurricanes are no fun at all. Good luck my dudes, please stay safe and be careful!

Now to say that you didn’t get along with Red Robin was a major understatement. From the minute you guys were introduced, to this very second, you guys hated each other. The two of you just butted heads constantly, it wasn’t as apparent in the beginning but things slowly escalated as the months passed and it just got to the point the two of you couldn’t even be in the same room as the other.

You both were the smartest people on the team, but other than that you were polar opposites. He was more reserved and intensive, so focused on his work that he wouldn't stop for anything to make sure a case is solved. While you, on the other hand, were more energetic but laid back and was generally the type of person who would make sure all your friends were happy and healthy.

The final nail on the coffin though was your quick friendship with the devil himself, Damian. Oh, man were the two of you annoying, your guy’s friendship was literally a giant hate on Tim Drake club, and it seriously pissed him off. Plus, what kind of maniac could befriend Satan as fast as you did? Like what kind of crazy person are you?

But it was so damn hard to get you out of his mind, it was nearly impossible. You were there in the back of his mind, you were there at the forefront of his brain and you were there in the Cave way too much for his liking. Then on the other hand, you were no better, what thoughts went through his mind also went through yours and none of you had an absolute clue about it. Like it got to the point where you just don’t want to care anymore but here you were, going back to thinking he looked kinda cute with his focused gaze on the screen.

At this point, the two of you were obsessed with each other but neither of you wanted to admit to themselves, let alone with each other.

But the rest of the team, they just knew that something was going on between the two of you. While a couple ignored it to the best of their ability, others may or may not have made bets about whether or not they would either punch each other then kiss, or kiss then punch each other. Damian was a part of the ignore it at all costs and it might go away group. Then on the opposite side of the spectrum was Dick who was just praying at this point for you two to just kiss and make up already. Of course, there is also the Chaotic Neutral, Jason who really loved watching you guys go at each other’s throats, but also wants you guys to see that you both like each other. Everyone else was just scattered throughout the spectrum.

Either way, you guys were a frequent topic of conversation. This would also triple when Dick would pair the two of you for missions. To you, it felt like a punishment because don’t you see that me and him just can’t stand each other?! Was the main thought process that had gone through your mind. The same thought process was going through his. Today was one of those days.

This operation though was on an increase of gang activity around an abandoned elementary school on the edge of Gotham from some of Black Mask’s men. Everyone knew that there was something not right there so you guys were sent to go investigate to go see what was going down and to put a stop to it.

So sucking up your pride you guys go on your mission, but the entire time it was silent between the two of you. At this point, it was just unsettling to you, as the noiselessness of anything had always put you on edge. The entire ride to the mission’s destination there was completely soundless, not even the radio was on to help distract you from him.

Basically, your entire thought process was focused on him. So you observed him as he drove. You notice his jaw clenching after a while, but his focus never left the road. Was it weird that you wanted a little of that attention on you? Yeah probably, you thought.

What you didn’t know was that he was barely focused on the road, he might have been driving the car but his brain was studying the body language the body language off yours in the passenger side of the car that he saw at the corner of his eye. He knew that you were staring at him, he could feel your gaze piercing his face as he drove. Tim for a moment felt slightly giddy but he pushed those feelings down as he thought you were making a million insults about him and his imperfections. That gave a very bitter taste in his mouth.

“What.” He says, annoyance and a slight venom burning through his words.

With the silence broken by him, it left you a little clueless. “Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re staring holes into my head, what unpleasant thought is going through your pretty little-deranged head right now?” At this you scoff at his pettiness, eyes scrunching in displeasure.

You let out a harsh groan. “Who the hell said I was even thinking about you?”

“You’re undivided attention,” His eyes never left the road as you neared the abandoned school where the case led you to. “You have that face whenever you and the demon spawn start talking trash.”

“Woah, you’re completely full of yourself, Drake.” You state, annoyance and sarcasm filling your voice.

“(L/N), that's all you do when I’m around.” His glare maybe on the road but it is directed towards you. “You guys are the literal hate on me club.” Well, that threw you back a bit.

“My dude, you do that to me all the time.” You were feeling pretty vulnerable now “Complaining about me to Bruce behind my back. Picking my insecurities one by one when you want to make me squirm. Hell, you did this the first time I ever went out on patrol with you guys.”

That made him pause. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t complain-”

“Okay fine, you bitched your heart out of your pretty mouth.” You interrupt as he pulled into the school, crossing your arms across your chest, moving your gaze in front of you.

“No, I didn’t!” He exclaims as he parks the car.

“Yeah, you did!” With that, he turns to you with furry in his eyes only to meet to yours with as much anger.

“Why do you always have to always tell me I’m wrong?!”

“Why do you always have to contradict me?!”

“Why do you always have to make me feel like I’m doing something wrong?!”

“Why do you hate me so much?!” You both yelled at each other, and for a moment everything was still, both yours and Tim’s eyes opening to each other for the first time.

Tim opens his mouth to say something but nothing escapes his lips.

Having enough of this game, you look away sliding your mask down your face and unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing over your costume. You let your eyes wander back to him, seeing him do the same after a couple seconds. You even caught him glancing over at you too, but there wasn’t any malice there anymore.

Before you left the car, you whisper, “I don’t hate you.” Then before Tim could say anything you exit the car, leaving the conversation behind, your heart feeling lighter but at the same time being dragged back to him.

Yet you put it to the back of your head, getting your game face on, with the now dressed Red Robin following behind you.

Fast forward an hour or two later you and Tim after finding the base inside and putting a stop to the weapons operation there take down the operation. It was an extremely hard fight. Harder than any of you honestly expected but you guys took it down.

When it was finally over though, the two of you were out of breath. On the way back to the car you were extremely quiet and were lagging a good bit behind him. It was definitely out of character for you, and given the “conversation” you had with Tim before the mission, he felt something was off.

“(S/N)?” He questions, turning around and expecting to see your tired self walking behind him.

He saw you on the ground on your knees, grasping your side with one hand and trying to keep yourself up with the other.

Now your fatal flaw was making sure that you were a help instead of a burden. You felt the agony of the bullet puncturing into your body, embedding itself into your side. But you couldn’t stop fighting, you might die but so could Tim if you stopped so you kept going, the battle ending a few moments later. But you were having trouble as you tried to stay standing as long as you could, putting a hand to the slowly spreading stain of blood on your uniform, trying to steady your breathing so you could follow without letting Tim know.

Tim ran right for you, removing your hand to see the damage then cursing under his breath as he sees it, then immediately picking you up and dashing towards the car. Opening the door putting you inside, running around the car to get in and dashing back towards the cave.

“I’m sorry,” You mutter as he speeds across Gotham to Wayne Manor, fear shaking your voice across the car. “For everything.”

He could barely hear you, and it really scared him in a way he didn’t think possible. “Don’t say that like you’re dying (Y/N), that’s not going to happen.”

You chuckle, but there was no humor behind it, just pain. “Bite me, Drake.”

You could barely hear him at this point, your senses fading as you neared the Cave.

You were completely unconscious by the time Tim got you there.

It was a miracle that you even made it there alive. An even bigger one that you made it through the night in the infirmary. Hell, you shouldn’t really be breathing right now.

But you were and even though you were alive, it took a couple of days to wake up, then about a week until you were able to stand up and walk around. The healing process was a long one, but it was much better than being dead was your thought process throughout.

A couple months after the incident and you were back to fighting crime, and it was like coming home for the first time in years. God, you missed the freedom it gave you, the wind in your hair and the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

One thing that put you slightly off was that you now had a shadow in the shape of Red Robin trailing a couple rooftops behind you.

Now throughout the time that you were unconscious, he was with you almost the whole day according to Damian. (Who wasn’t happy about it, like at all.) But when you woke up, he faded into the background, trying to distance himself from you as much as possible. It wasn’t about hate anymore, no it was about guilt. Yet, he was never too far away from you, and this put you on edge, and maybe even a little remorseful on how you handled the situation back then.

With a sigh leaving your lips, you turn around just staring at him across the roofs in between the two of you. “I didn’t realize that I ordered a stalker by mistake.” It wasn’t said with annoyance but with a witty twist to it.

“You know, you do realize that you don’t order stalkers right?” He says with a dry chuckle as he jumps across to the rooftop your standing on.

“I know, but given the situation, it kinda feels like it.” You state, watching him walk across to you.

“Why do you say that?” He had a feeling he knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it.

“Because it was my fault that I got shot and didn’t tell you about it until it was almost too late.” Okay, he got what you were saying but he didn’t like it.

“No it’s more on me than anything,” He says, resting his arms on the side of the building and facing the city lights. “I was the one who started the fight in the car beforehand and threw us both off our game.”

“I sure as hell didn’t help that, I was about ready to chew your head off.” You state, turning to face the view.

“Yeah, but nothing new there.” It wasn’t cruel when he said it if anything it was a joke and the growing smile on his face showed it.

You laugh, oh two can play at that game, you thought. “And you looked like you were ready to shoot lasers from your eyes.”

“While you were staring holes in the side of my head,” He says mid-laugh. “I thought you were planning on figuring out a way to help Damian shave my head in my sleep or something.”

You scoff, giggling soon after. “I plead the fifth on the involvement of that one.”

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t involved.”

“Bite me, Red. I didn’t say that I did and I didn’t say that I didn’t.” Your eyes travel to him as you speak, catching his eyes staring into yours.

It was quiet for once as if the world had held its breath for the second time in the past couple of months just to see what would transpire between the two of you. Then when the moment passed with both of your eyes locked together, ever so slowly you both lean in and when your lips finally meet, it felt like the universe shifted. Not in the bad cataclysmic way, but in a way to let the light shine through on the both of you.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake headcanon #tim drake imagine #tim drake imagines #Tim Drake #red robin x reader #Red Robin #red robin imagine #red robin headcanon #dc #DC comics #dc comics imagine

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dontfeedthebabytigers · 6 years

Text

You’ve Got So Much Heart: Chapter 6

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The warm scent of blueberries and butter drifted through the silent halls of Wayne Manor, and in the epicenter stood Alfred. He worked in the kitchen, a clean apron around his neck, and perfectly round pancakes on the griddle before him. To his left, a stack of pancakes stood in a tall tower along with strawberries, bananas, and bacon. When he spoke, he seemed to talk to the room.

“You can come down from there now, Master Dick.” A smirk played at his lips when his grandson dropped from the vent and sat deflated at the round table in the corner of the room. Even before, Dick always seemed more inclined to eat when he wasn’t in the gold encrusted dining room.

“How long?” Dick asked in the same quiet tone he always used on the days he felt up to speaking. He still wore his cotton pajamas; the softest thread counts that money could buy.

“I’ve been aware of your prying eyes for last ten minutes. How long have you been waiting in the ventilation, might I ask?”

Dick smiled, a glorious sight. “Fifteen.”

“Alas, you have deceived this old man once again.”

“Don’t lie, Alfred.“ Bruce said as he entered the kitchen wearing slacks, a button-up, and a blue sweater. He took his place next to Dick and the table, and had to stop himself from running a hand through his ward’s hair. The morning felt like one pulled from his memories, warm and ideal. “You haven’t been an old man once in your life.”

Back when Bruce was Dick’s age and Alfred had been in his forties, they would play catch together when his parents were at work and the chores had been done. They could play for hours without Alfred tiring. Even when Alfred was in his seventies, he did the same for Dick. Bruce would watch them from his bedroom window. Alfred would chase Dick around as the boy laughed his head off, and he would catch him with ease when Dick launched himself on Alfred’s frail shoulders. His health would always stay at the forefront of Bruce’s mind. He didn’t think that any of them were ready to lose Alfred anytime soon.

“I know you think me young, Master Bruce. However, I believe my knees would care to disagree with you.”

Dick’s eyes widened by a fraction and he pulled out the chair on his other side. He pointed at Alfred and then the seat.

“How kind of you, Master Dick. Ut, I must get a head start on cleaning the East Wing.”

The boy patted the seat of the chair, urgency brewing in his eyes. “Please,” he whispered, slightly louder than before.

Few things were rarer than Dick asking for something. When he had asked his first question, Dick had hidden from them for three days. Damian had been the one to find him, shaking and clasping his neck as he begged for kindness. He had told them about being fitted with a shocker collar at first like a disobedient dog. Bruce had to excuse himself from the conversation and went to the forest just outside of the grounds to kick a tree. Had he gone on the streets in such a rage he might have broken his one rule. Even though he had been covered in splinters and cuts, Bruce knew that a tree could take his hits.

There was no denying Dick unless necessary because of the lengths the Court had gone to make him a drone that would operate without question. To deny him would cause more harm then a late start on dusting the unused rooms would ever bring Alfred.

“I don’t suppose there is any harm in a late start.” He sat down next to Dick with graceful ease. “Now, how many pancakes would you like, Master Dick?”

Two fingers resulted in two large blueberry pancakes being plopped down on his plea and drowned in maple syrup. Dick went to work on his breakfast while his father drank the coffee Alfred had provided. After a few bites, Dick stopped eating which made Bruce’s stomach drop. Dick hadn’t eaten much yesterday, and he couldn’t afford to get any skinnier. But Bruce soon found that his worries were misplaced. Dick grabbed two pancakes and set them on Bruce’s empty plate, and he did the same for Alfred’s.

Bruce hadn’t even thought about getting himself food, but Dick noticed everything. Now, if only Bruce could get Dick’s excellent observation skills aimed towards his own needs. That would be fantastic, but they were a long way from Dick noticing his own hunger. Last month he hadn’t even noticed he had been stabbed, or he had and he never told anyone. Bruce still didn’t know which was the bigger issue.

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint.” He took his fork and started cutting up his pancakes. When he got a bite in his mouth he looked at Dick for approval. Dick smiled at him in a way that told Bruce that his ward thought that he was being ridiculous. Bruce could tease all he wanted, but there was no denying the relief he felt knowing that Dick was feeling well enough to speak and act even slightly like a child.

There also wasn’t too much complaining he could make about being forced to eat his breakfast like a child. The pancakes were delicious.

"How are preparations for the Gala, Alfred?” Bruce asked.

“As planned, sir. Master Dick, will you still be in attendance, or should I contact Mister Kent if you would rather spend the night there?”

Dick stared forward and a small wrinkle above his nose portrayed his hesitance in joining the family for their Spring Gala. The event landed near his birthday, and, as Dick was learning to handle himself better around crowds, Bruce broached the idea of announcing Dick’s place in the family as Bruce’s newest ward. The fact that the Gala’s main goal was to proclaim Dick as the Wayne Family’s new ward had been withheld from the guests and press for when Dick need to pull out at the last-minute. But they all knew that Dick wanted this, and he need to feel like he was part of something. Maybe then he would stop being so afraid that Bruce would kick him out after he made any mistake.

“I want to go.” Dick said, his voice a bit stronger. “I need to. It’s time.”

Bruce looked down at his ward, strong in the face of well-deserved fear, and he felt proud. “Then it’s time.”

“They lapsed into familiar silence that was a normal guest at meal times, the only sound being the clink of silver on china. At the end of their meal, Alfred gathered their plates and cleaned them off.

As Alfred got to work, Bruce settled deeper into his chair. He nursed a near empty cup of coffee. Today was looking out to be a good day if he felt awake after only one cup, usually he needed three before he felt like a human. He looked at his son who inspected the strawberry in the palm of his hand. At this point, Dick had probably known how many seeds were on the berry, how much it weighed, and how to use it as a weapon. Maybe one day he would get to the point where he ate berries before he could think how to hurt someone with one.

“It’s your day, Dick.” Bruce said to distract him from the strawberry in his hand. “What do you want to do?”

Dick shook his head. “No, our day.”

“I see. How about a compromise?” Bruce proposed. “A movie? Anything as long as you choose.”

Dick thought hard, and he still phrased his choice like a question. “Scooby Doo?”

“Deal.” He held up his hand and grinned when Dick high-fived him with a smile. “You should go get dressed, then we can work on your assignments.”

Dick’s expression turned sour at the thought of the reading assignments Alfred had given him.

When Dick came to live with them after his parent’s deaths he had been in the beginnings of his education. Bruce and the boys helped Dick, once an eager young learner, further the work that his parents had begun. But the Court didn’t need Dick to read, they needed him to kill, and his studies were abandoned.

“You skipped them yesterday, and if we do them today Alfred might make us cinnamon rolls tomorrow for breakfast instead of cereal.”

“I like cereal.” Dick said, indignant.

“More than you like cinnamon rolls?”

He sighed. Dick knew he had fought a losing battle once cinnamon rolls were brought up. “No.”

“Then we better get started. Go ahead, I’ll meet you in the study.

After Dick made a show of sulking away, Alfred gave Bruce a glance. “He’s doing well today.”

“He is for now.” Bruce ran a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair. “Be ready to catch any signs that he’s getting worse. The last thing we need is for this weekend to become a disaster.”

“I’m sure Master Damian would agree if he were here.”

Bruce nodded. “Before he left, Damian told me that Dick noticed Cobb’s been more daring with his surveillance this year. That’s why Dick was so spooked yesterday.”

“I see.” An unmistakable strain pulled at Alfred’s tone as he scrubbed the plates harder than necessary. “Could it be that the Court is reforming?”

“Anything is possible with the Court.” Bruce stood and began helping Alfred with the drying. “It could be entirely possible that Cobb has gone solo, or that he just has more free time to stalk a child. There are too many unknowable factors.”

“Yes, they have done a remarkable job of covering their tracks over the years.”

“Don’t remind me, I’m still going over that compound that Dick led us to.”

Alfred hummed. “Still no luck on that front, I assume.”

“They covered their tracks well, but an organization as large as the Court would be bound to overlook one detail. I’m getting close to finding their fatal flaw too.”

Alfred yanked the glass Bruce was drying out of his hands, along with the dish towel. “You’re leaving streaks.”

Bruce watched the man who raised him drying the crystal in a meticulous fashion. His eyes drifted to the age spots that littered Alfred’s wrinkled hands.

“I should have taught you better.” Alfred said as he handed Bruce the now clear glass.

“You did the best you could.” Bruce had been far from an easy child to raise, and Alfred probably never thought he would have to raise him in place of his parents. He did all that he could, and nothing more. Bruce would have never asked him too, because the one thing Alfred couldn’t do for him was bring them back.

“Bruce,” Alfred said. “When you get to my age you will realize you could have always done better. You just have to get there to see that.”

Where is this coming from?”

Alfred pulled the plug out from the sink. “I don’t believe that I have to tell you, Master Bruce.”

He didn’t. Bruce knew the longer he researched the Court and continued pushing them around that they would strike against him. Losing Bruce wasn’t something that Dick could handle--- not to mention if his brothers were killed. Neither of them could make it through that.

“If you could do it all differently, what would you do?” Bruce asked.

“I can’t answer that question.” Alfred said, pulling his apron off. “Do I wish you had never picked up the cowl and saved yourself from the destiny of an early death, of course. But your life is no longer your own. Without the Batman, Damian wouldn’t exist, Tim would have grown up neglected, Jason would likely be dead, and young Dick would have had all the humanity stripped from his heart. Those boys wouldn’t have lives without you. I couldn’t be prouder.”

“But?” There was always a condition to everything.

Alfred felt his chest rattle as he sighed. “You have always put your body, heart, and mind on the line to protect others from the world. I simple worry that one day the world will ask for too much, and I don’t think that I am ready to see your funeral quite yet.”

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #fanfic #you've got so much heart #miranda writes

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violetsmoak · 5 years

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Philtatos [7/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47630773

Blanket Disclaimer

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #fate #fatal flaw #oracle #reincarnation #secrets #undying love

First Chapter

Author's Note(s): Sorry for the delay guys. Between trying to find a place to live, and dealing with a family member with Alzheimers, the past day or so has kind of sucked. But I did finally get some time to myself to finish this chapter, so I hope you enjoy!

Much of the dialog and imagery of Jason’s flashback is based on actual lines from The Iliad and Madeline Miller's novel The Song of Achilles. If you're looking to cry, read the latter to the end.

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Tim stares at the screen of his tablet, reading the information but none of it registering. He’s been at this too long.

Crime scene photos from the GCPD’s system and coroners reports from half a dozen murder-suicides that took place throughout the city in the past week, each one more brutal than the last. One guy took a meat pounder to his girlfriend’s head; another a fire poker to his husband’s face.

I wish I could get out there and investigate the scenes myself.

He’s been effectively benched and it’s starting to give him cabin fever, even though he knows it’s important to stay with Jason right now.

Bruce took off to Amsterdam about an hour again; like Tim, he prefers to retrace crimes from their origin. It’s how they find clues the cops miss. Dick’s doing the same right now in Gotham, revisiting all the crime scenes with Duke by his side in case his retrocognition can help them any. He has no idea where Steph is tonight, but if Barbara’s radio silence is any indicator, they’re probably working something big together.

Jason’s been sitting beside him on the couch in the study, three separate books open on his lap and a notepad where he’s jotting down various comparisons of the information.

(Because “I’m not defacing a first edition version of Les Métamorphoses, especially not one with etchings by Picasso, Tim. It’s just not done.”)

The first hour he managed to keep absorbed in his task, but Tim’s noticed him stopping more often between annotations, rubbing at a spot on his neck or over the spot in his shoulder where he was shot.

Whenever he notices Tim looking, they both immediately look away and go back to work; but after another period of research—getting shorter and shorter after each pause—Jason’s back to twitching and looking guilty.

He’s going to have his neck rubbed raw in another hour.

Despite the fact the whole thing was Tim’s idea, it’s harder to remain unaffected about the need for physical contact than he thought. And Jason notices pretty fast that Tim isn’t as at ease with the ‘treatment’ plan as he’s been insinuating.

He thought Jason putting his arm around his shoulders earlier was mostly to bother Dick, whose attempts at protectiveness had just made the situation more awkward. But when Jason does it again later, unthinkingly draping himself around Tim’s shoulder, Tim can’t help going stiff as a board.

Jason pulls away immediately, as if he’s been burned. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s…fine.”

“Stop lying, obviously you’re not,” Jason answers, shifting to the other edge of the couch to put at least three feet between them. “You don’t have to force yourself to do this. I can get through it without you.”

Tim sets aside his tablet. “Because that worked out so well the first time you tried it.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. I’m more than capable of figuring out how to get through this without using your skin as a security blanket.” He pauses. “That came out so much disturbing than I intended.”

“How was it ever not going to sound disturbing?” Tim wonders, and then sighs. “Look, I don’t mind. The longer you stay in a healthy headspace, the more time we have to find a cure.”

“Yeah, but if you’re so friggen uncomfortable with it—”

“I’m not!”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really, it’s fine. It’s my choice.”

“Yeah, say that without flinching and maybe I’ll believe you,” Jason mutters, shoulders slumping. “If you’re going to freeze up every time I go near your personal bubble, screw it. Like I don’t feel like enough of a creep…”

Tim can see how much he hates this, the fact that he’s making Tim uncomfortable—the fact that making Tim uncomfortable upsets him at all. He’s never cared before; it’s always been a kind of unofficial hobby.

But now that his brain and hormones are becoming compromised, it’s more important to him than ever not to cross boundaries. Or at least what he perceives as boundaries.

Tim bows his head.

He’s been managing his feelings about all this by remaining clinical, dividing him from the particulars of the situation the way he’s always done. It’s the sort of thing that works on hard cases, the kind involving little kids or serial murders. He forgot that it doesn’t work so well when dealing with people.

Communication, he remembers Steph chiding him during one argument. Honesty.

Nodding to himself, Tim forces himself to appear relaxed.

“It’s not like that. I just—I’ve never been really good at all the…” He waves his hand, searching for the words, “…physical intimacy stuff.”

Jason blinks, not having expected that. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Tim shifts. “I know it’s hard to tell when I’m next to Dick or Steph or someone who…”

“Who has personal space issues?”

“Yeah. But with them I’ve gotten used to it. But with you, you’ve never exactly…”

“Put hands on you except to lay you out flat on the floor?” Jason suggests, and then turns red. “I mean beating the crap out of you! Not the other thing that…! Fuck, he wasn’t kidding about the innuendo thing, was he?”

“Oh, I don’t know. If not for everything going on, I’m pretty sure you’d still be making jokes to make everyone uncomfortable,” Tim muses, his own ears warm at the accidental image Jason’s words provided.

Jason tilts his head to one side, and then nods. “Fair.”

They smirk at each other for a moment. Then something thoughtful passes across Jason’s face.

“What?”

“When you say physical intimacy,” Jason starts slowly, “d’you mean just occupying someone else’s personal space, or…?”

He trails off, and it takes a few seconds before Tim interprets the meaning. His cheeks may actually be on fire right now. “Uh…”

“You’re kidding.”

“Well, the first one’s always kind of an issue,” Tim mumbles, looking away, “so I don’t really—like I said, I’m not used to anyone wanting to get close to me, let alone actually trying it. Which always made everything kind of awkward.”

“And the second thing?”

“…that made it awkward, too.”

“So, you haven’t—? Like, not even with Blondie?”

There’s incredulity there, but no judgment, which is somewhat of a relief; he’s too used to other guys looking like he should have his man card revoked for not pouncing on a gorgeous girl like Steph.

As if anyone would ever get away with pouncing without getting a brick to the face.

But Jason seems genuinely curious, which makes Tim want to try to answer.

“No?” Tim winces at the uncertainty in the word and glances up to make sure there’s still no judgment on Jason’s face. “Not because—not because I didn’t—or she wasn’t—we fooled around, but never—she’d already done the whole unwanted pregnancy thing. We wanted to be careful and wait until we were both sure we wanted to. And then she died, then came back because she wasn’t really dead, and we broke up. But it was a long time ago, and then we never got another opportunity because—well, there was Bruce dying and not dying, and other people dying, and then losing Robin, and just…” He lets his words trail as he realizes he’s been babbling. “Sorry. Babbling.”

Jason makes a dismissive gesture. “Nah, it’s cute.”

There’s a moment where they both process his words, and then Jason’s rubbing at his neck and Tim’s coughing because he thinks he might have choked on his tongue.

“I’m going to…” Jason stands, starts rummaging through his pockets, and then jerks his head toward the balcony, “Smoke break.”

“Right,” Tim answers, carefully neutral.

Tim doesn’t complain about the smoking, even though he hates it. Jason’s under enough stress right now, if the nicotine helps calm him even a little a bit, Tim can put up with it for the short-term.

Not like he’s going to be around once we fix all this.

He lets Jason make his escape and for the first time since the conversation began, takes a full breath.

It’s just Eros’ blood. He doesn’t actually think that.

The truth doesn’t make his heart stop fluttering.

“Fuck,” he mutters, letting his face fall into his hand; he rubs at his face in frustration.

“Wallowing in your failure as usual, Drake?”

He jumps and then shoots a glare across the room at the pint-sized bane of his existence.

“Why aren’t you out terrorizing the streets of Gotham?”

“I’m here to ensure the present status quo endures and neither you nor Todd end up compromised,” Damian retorts. Then Tim blinks, the kid smirks at him. “I’m babysitting you two morons.”

“Well my life just hit another low…”

“I have also been doing research of my own to pass the time, since my talents are being ignored in favor of mundane surveillance tasks,” the boy continues. “I was intrigued at Todd’s apparent symptoms of xenoglossia and decided to peruse the security footage to see what might have precipitated it.”

“…And?”

“It wasn’t until you arrived that it started. He called you philtatos. It means ‘most beloved’.”

Tim tries not to choke. “How do you know that?”

“Anyone who has read the Iliad in the original Greek could tell you that,” Damian drawls.

“Well, excuse me, I had an education meant for this millennium.” Tim tries not to croak, running his hands through his hair in frustrations. The strands are stringy today and he tries to remember when he washed it last was; probably before Jason was brought to the manor.

“Odd that he’d call you that, though,” Damian continues. “He has that habit of assigning the most absurd monikers to anyone within a ten-foot radius. It’s not exactly the type of thing he would say. And to you of all people.”

Tim frowns, ignoring the insult. “You think it’s a symptom of the infection?”

“Perhaps. The term itself, or the tongue in question. In case you were curious, which I doubt since unless it involves a computer your interest becomes depressingly cursory, the language Todd was mumbling in while drooling on your shoulder was Archaia Makedonike.”

“English, brat.”

“Ancient Macedonian, you classless twit. The language itself was prevalent in the Hellenistic period before giving way to its superior successor, Koine, when it was brought by the military forces of Alexander the Great.”

“Conqueror of the known world at the time—why am I not surprised you’re so well-versed.”

“Tt. Of course I am. As a child, Mother brought me on a journey to follow in his footsteps along what was once his Empire.”

You’re still a child, Tim doesn’t say, because he just doesn’t have the energy for the inevitable resulting fight. “Sounds like quality family bonding time.”

“It was meant to show me all that could be achieved in a short lifetime,” Damian sniffs. “And what could be lost just as easily.”

“Because he died young?”

“Not only that, but because of his rather questionable decisions. Like pouring a considerable amount of his treasury into a funeral monument for one of his generals. He was so besotted with the man he died less than a year later. It’s disgraceful.”

“Right, because caring about someone is a bad thing.”

“It is possible to care without being ruled by one’s emotions.”

“Yeah, you’re such an excellent example of that,” Tim deadpans. At Damian’s glare, he makes a defensive gesture with his hand. “What do you want me to say? People do weird stuff for the people they care about.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “Evidently.”

He continues to watch Tim in a way he’s not entirely sure he likes. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“It sounds like you’ve got something to say.”

Jason chooses that moment to return, although he halts in the door when he notices the way Tim and Damian are glaring at one another. “Am I walking in on something here?”

“I was simply demonstrating Drake’s continued ignorance in several arenas,” Damian replies, and pushes past Jason. “I’ve wasted enough of my day pandering to your nonsense. Shout if you need help.” His gaze lingers on Jason with disgust. “Or possibly a firehose.”

“Was that demon-speak for ‘make good choices’?” Tim calls after him and noticing Jason’s bemused expression offers a half shrug. “He will do great things.”

“See, I knew all that getting on his case was just your way of showing you like him,” Jason teases and settles back on the couch. Much closer to Tim this time, body angled toward him; he can smell leather and the acrid smell of cigarettes.

He forces a grin, “Tell no one.”

“Lips are sealed,” Jason replies, abruptly stretching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

The gesture would normally make Tim want to melt, to bend closer to Jason as well; at first it does, but the reason for it remains starkly in his mind, and instead his skin crawls.

The study suddenly seems too small, too close, magnified by Jason’s focus on him.

Need a distraction.

“There’s a lot of CCTV footage to go through,” he says, clearing his throat and standing quickly. He ambles over to the desk to grab Bruce’s laptop, holding up to Jason. “Feel like going through half?”

“Not particularly, but only because that’s the most boring job ever.”

“And reading scholarly articles dissecting the exact syntax of some ancient play isn’t?”

“Don’t act like if it was Klingon or something you wouldn’t have a field day.”

But Jason accepts the computer, putting his books and notes to one side. Tim exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

They sit in silence again for a while, one that’s somehow more tense than earlier. Tim’s stomach keeps leaping, waiting for the next time Jason needs to reach out to him, simultaneously craving and dreading it.

So it’s no surprise that he physically jolts when Jason suddenly announces, “I think I’ve got something.”

“What?” he asks quickly, hoping his reaction wasn’t that noticeable. He moves to peek over Jason’s shoulder, considering a timestamped video of an Upper East Side apartment. There’s a crowd gathered outside as paramedics load two covered stretchers into an ambulance.

“Right there.” Jason points at a grainy image in the upper left corner, almost obscured by the lighting. “See this woman?”

Tim studies the image of the woman in a leather jacket and skin-tight pants. “Yeah?”

“That’s Carrie Cutter.”

“Carrie…” Tim consults his mental rolodex. “Carrie Cutter as in Cupid?”

“Yep.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. I’m pretty familiar with anyone Roy might have had beef with down in his corner of the world. You know, just in case.”

Which is a smart thing to do, really, considering old enemies always have a tendency to return when they’re least expected.

And just…great. Because Carrie Cutter, along with being crazy to the point of earning honorary Arkham status, also happens to be a genetically enhanced special-ops soldier that knows how not to be found. If she’s got her hands on divine weapons somehow, it’s going to make apprehending her much more of a challenge.

Especially those weapons. If any of us get tagged with those, we’re done. I’ve been around when the Family gets turned against each other, and it’s never pretty.

The memory of Joker’s macabre dinner party still makes him gag reflexively.

Tim leans forward, balancing his weight on the desk with his palms, and studies the image again. “Could be a coincidence.”

“Has anything about all this felt coincidental to you?”

“Touché.” Tim shakes his head. “Damn. So, Cupid stole Cupid’s bow and arrows?”

What even is my life anymore?

“And the MO makes sense now, if you think about it,” Jason points out; he absently starts to rub the back of Tim’s hand with his thumb. Tim swallows and fights the conflicting urge to jerk his hand away or lean further into Jason’s space. “She has that whole crazed ‘if-I-can’t-be-happy-no-one-can’ thing going on. If she’s got Eros’ diviners, she could accomplish whatever she wants pretty easily.”

“Does she still have that obsession with Green Arrow?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Maybe we should let Oliver know she’s heading his way.”

“Or not.”

“Jason!”

“No, seriously, hear me out, this isn’t me hating on Queen.”

“Sure…”

“Look at the pattern of robberies and deaths—if she’s headed out west, she’s taking the long way and at a slow stroll. There are tons of direct flights from Amsterdam to Star City. She could be there in like a day if that’s her goal, but she’s moving so slowly—based on the places she’s hit, and how long it takes her to get there, I’d say she’s driving.” He traces a line from Europe to the East Coast. “And possibly taking a boat. Not the Carnival way, either. I know people like to go incognito sometimes, but even that’s Bruce levels of paranoid.”

“And he once rode a goat truck across the border of Qurac…”

“Also, there are more direct routes from here to the West Coast.”

“So why come to Gotham at all,” Tim says, and steeples his fingers. “Either she’s taking her time for a reason, or she was never heading for Star City.”

“Then what does she want?”

“And how has she dropped so completely off the radar since she got here?”

Jason shrugs and leans back, stretching his arms and yawning; his arm brushes against Tim’s shoulder on its way down.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Tim asks quickly, wishing his voice didn’t sound like it was squeaking.

“Like sleep or power naps? Because I’ve had a lot of those.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “If you don’t get some rest we’ll have more to worry about than accidental innuendos. You should get some sleep.”

“The irony of you telling anyone that…”

“I’ve never had to fight off an Olympian bloodborne disease.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly comfortable falling asleep right now. I keep seeing weird shit.”

“Like what?”

“I…can’t even remember. The whole thing just gives me a bad feeling.”

“You want to stay in my room?” This time it’s Jason who jumps and shoots Tim a panicked look. “Not like that! I just figured; it’s got all my stuff there. People sometimes take comfort in objects, and I just figured maybe being surrounded by my stuff would help. And I somehow don’t see you as the teddy bear type.”

Jason barks out a surprised laugh. “Hey, leave Paddington out of this!”

“You didn’t actually have a stuffed toy named Paddington!”

“Not just a stuffed toy, I’ll have you know, it was actually a Paddington Bear,” Jason retorts. “My mother used to read the stories to me, and she found him in a second-hand shop the Christmas before she…” Jason trails off, the levity in his face smoothing into careful blankness. “Anyway. I pretended like I was too old for stuff like that, but I was just happy she was lucid enough to even do Christmas that year.”

Tim can’t help the way his eyes soften at the story. He’s never heard Jason say anything about his life before Bruce, at least nothing personal.

Jason seems to notice the scrutiny, because he looks away. “Anyway. Not important. But we can try that whole…staying in your room thing. It would be nice to catch some Zs.”

They pack up their things and head down the hall to Tim’s room; all the while, Tim is trying to figure out what possessed him to suggest this. It’s true, comfort objects are a thing, but he could just as easily have brought a whole bunch of his stuff to Jason’s room for the same effect.

Except Jason doesn’t go near his room unless he’s unconscious and Bruce puts him there to recover.

He flicks on the light as Jason brushes past. “I haven’t been here in a while, so Alfred’s probably changed the sheets and everything. Good to go if you want to sleep.”

“And, uh…you’ll stay, right?”

“Yeah,” Tim replies softly. “At least until you fall asleep, then I have to take care of a few things. Alfred will probably nag me to eat and shower and changes clothes or something.”

And I need to make a trip home to have a conversation with my unwanted houseguest.

“Oh, the horror,” Jason says neutrally, though he starts rubbing at the back of his neck again, irritating the already red skin there.

Tim reaches over automatically and moves his hand away. A week ago, doing that would have probably gotten him punched; now Jason simply lets him, his body unconsciously leaning toward him.

“Listen, if you wake up and I’m not in here, don’t freak out. I’m probably in the kitchen being force-fed grits or something. And if I’m not, just call me and I’ll find you. We can even FaceTime while you wait.”

“Whatever,” Jason says, trying to sound nonchalant. He plops himself down on Tim’s bed, then frowns down at the bedsheet. “Holy shit this is soft.”

“It should be, it’s got a thread count of a thousand.”

“Spoiled ass rich boy,” Jason mutters, lying back on the bed. A surprised and pleased expression appears on his face. “Okay you know what? Forget obsessing over you, I want your bedroom set.”

This time it’s Tim who gives a surprised laugh.

⁂

“I will not be humiliated before my army.”

The lord marshal’s face resembles a misshapen beat, fury twisting his features; the skin beneath his nose is raw from the scented oils he’s been using to block the acrid scent of the funeral pyres. Jason has mostly become familiar with the odor by now—smoke and burning flesh and blood.

“What humiliation is there in appeasing the gods?” he counters and is surprised his voice remains so calm and measured; Tim is a reassuring presence at his back.

“Returning Chryses’ daughter is tantamount to the theft of my rightly taken trophy,” the king of men snarls. “Find me a replacement and I may consider it, but I will not be the only man among us without a prize.”

The quiet among the men is pointed, saturated with disagreement; even the obstinate man’s brother does not stand with him on the dais where kings and their liegemen have gathered. But Jason knows no one will step forward to say anything.

Only me, as usual.

“Son of Atreus, you know as well as anyone that we take our prizes from lawful combat. There’s ample opportunity to replace the girl, or even her worth in gold, three and four times over. All of us who stand here are kings and the vassals of kings, and we don’t owe you compensation when it was you who angered the gods in the first place.”

By taking the girl whose life I was trying to save just to screw me over, I would add.

A few of the men nod at his words; in the background, the moaning cries of the dying fill the air, a cacophony that has haunted the shore for ten days since the plague hit.

“Show your men that you’re as humble in nature as you are proficient in battle, and make amends.” He doubts the pig will notice the insult there. “End this plague before more die.”

Fury contracts the other man’s pupils to fine dots. “You will learn your place, boy. Just because divine blood runs through your veins and your mother raised you to believe you are special does not mean you might speak to me as an equal.” Jason bristles but is immediately cut off again. “Silence! I have no interest in whatever clever words your puppet master would have you speak.”

The blunt insult instead of flowery political doublespeak is surprising enough to still the words on his lips. He senses when Tim stiffens; they both know that last was directed at him.

“If I hear further suggestions that I give up my property without receiving something of like value in exchange, then I will sacrifice the man who suggests it, along with Chryses’ bitch daughter to appease the gods. Perhaps you might volunteer, Peliades,” the lord marshal concludes.

“I’m not afraid of speaking up when it’s needed,” Jason growls, “and we all know you can’t afford to sacrifice me.”

“Listen to the arrogance! It is the same you have displayed from the moment you arrived here. I believe it to be high time you face consequence for your heedless words.”

“Consequence,” Jason echoes, calm; Tim shifts closer, knowing that his outward composure is a sign of danger. The men around them shift as well, some of them whispering; more than one man’s fingers twitch toward their sword. “It’s you who should think of consequence.”

“Careful,” Tim cautions in his ear, breath hot across his neck as he comes to step beside him. He has to keep from rubbing at the area with his thumb.

“Is that a threat?” the king of men demands.

“An observation. How much longer do you think these men will last, without me to lead them into battle? How many times have I been the one who turned the tides of defeat to victory, while you remained in the back ranks?”

Now the whispering is louder, angrier; voices of dissent and outrage.

“I am High King!” the older lord roars. “Every man here knelt before me when we came to these shores or swore oaths to the gods to follow my command. Even your beloved Menoitiades whom you shield as if he is your wife.” Tim clenches his fists but carefully doesn’t meet Jason’s eyes; acknowledgement of one another now will only prove the argument. “You are the only one that always considered yourself above such things.”

Jason is furious. Green like the cold sea edges around his vision, and it would be so easy to leap across the three-foot gap and snap the bastard’s neck. He could do it before anyone else might react, and he’s fast enough to get away before anyone retaliates.

But Tim isn’t.

Tim who remains tense, shoulders set and whose fingers make a minute twitching motion against his side, silently beseeching Jason to keep his calm.

It doesn’t work.

“I have nothing to prove to you, or any who swore oaths to you,” Jason snarls through gritted teeth. “The horse-tamers have never threatened my home, have never stolen our stock or torched our fields. I chose to be here, to sail to this wretched city and help your half-wit brother regain a woman who likely doesn’t wish to be reclaimed.”

More murmuring; it’s a sentiment no one has wanted to voice.

“Have a care with your words, boy; not all gods who listen are favorable to you.”

“And what would you know of the gods? I’m closer to their ilk than you ever will be, without the scandal that troubles your bloodline. If anyone should have these men’s fealty, it’s not you. Perhaps you should be the one who bends knee in appeasement.”

The crowd is outright clamoring now, supporters and enemies alike shouting over one another. The older man’s eyes widen in triumph. “You think yourself better than me? Or than the men I command?”

“No, they are my equals. You’re the dog-faced son of a bitch that isn’t fit to clean the boots of the men you profess to lead into battle.”

Exclamations of disbelief.

“That’s enough!” Tim hisses, jabbing him with an elbow.

“Yes, listen to your keeper, Peliades. He seeks to save you from being named a traitor to this army, and suffering punishment for it. Though I think we are beyond the point of playing this off as country bumpkin ignorance to custom. Your war prizes are forfeit; I will take them under tutorship until you come to your senses and offer submission to me.”

Jason’s muscles pull taut in incandescent anger. “You have no right to do that!”

“I have every right, especially since you are so keen to take mine. In fact, I demand the first woman you took as spoil at Ilion—fetch me Briseis’ daughter. She will replace the woman the gods wish me to return.”

“If you touch her, you forgo your victory in this war. I will take my ships and return to my land.”

“Flee, then, if your heart urges you! I have no fear of you—of all the kings the son of Kronos nurtures, you are the one I hate the most. Go with your ships, run with your tail between your legs. But I will have the woman before you go.”

Jason’s hand goes to his sword, but Tim’s hand is on his then.

“Leave it,” he whispers, frantic. “There are greater punishments than death. Let’s regroup and find a solution to this away from prying eyes.”

Jason knows he’s right. The men around them are filled with shock and disapproval, but none of the cowards will support him if he strikes down the king of men.

And so instead of slicing the ignorant prick’s kneecaps out from under him, Jason simply spits at his feet.

“You’re a coward with the face of a dog but the heart of a deer. You’ve never had the courage to arm for battle along with the men you boast to lead because you fear death. You’re faithless, taking the property of those who speak contrary to you, preferring to rule over a kingdom of nobodies. Your words today doom you and your men to disgraceful ends.” He glares at all the men gathered there simply watching. “I won’t fight alongside this army any longer, and without me, you’ll all fall, ground beneath the feet of the man-killing prince. The day will come when you send your toadies to me to beg, and you’ll kneel before me crying for forgiveness, but I’ll give you nothing but laughter as you bleed in the dust before me. You will all die in ignominy for what the son of Atreus does today.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and stalks away.

Tim follows, as do the rest of the men sworn to him.

“I’ll kill him,” Jason fumes under his breath when they are far enough away not to be heard. “I would have if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“I know. And then you would have been struck down, which I couldn’t allow,” Tim soothes. “Be patient. I’ll think of a plan, you know I always do.”

“And in the meantime, that sack of pig shit will take Hippodamea and vent his frustrations toward me on her,” Jason growls.

“If he rapes her, he violates the life of one who is under your gods given protection. His men and the gods will turn on him if he does. After that display, he’s not going to court anymore of their disapproval. She will be safe until you bend knee to him.”

“Which won’t happen.”

“There are more important things than your pride,” Tim reminds him, a bit of reprimand in his tone. “Don’t lower yourself to his level, to the level of men, when you are as a god.”

Jason blinks, and turns to Tim. “That’s it.”

“What?”

“I’ll go to my mother.”

Tim’s face pales. “No!”

“Why not? And it better not be because you think she hates you.”

“She does hate me, but that’s besides the point. I just…have a bad feeling. The silver-footed are like the sea—unmerciful and uncaring who they harm in their storm. That path leads to death, I think.”

“Yes. His.”

Tim is silent and continues to look worried.

“I don’t need your permission to do this,” Jason tells him, a little sour that he doesn’t have his support on this matter.

Something like hurt flickers across his face, but then Tim’s expression goes carefully blank. “I would never presume to tell you what to do.”

“That’s not what everyone on this gods forsaken beach thinks!”

“Since when have you ever cared what people think?”

“You can’t stop me doing this,” Jason snaps.

Tim looks sad now. “I know.”

He turns to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to prepare Hippodamea for what’s to come. Somehow I doubt you will be able to feign sympathy long enough to shoulder that burden,” he replies coldly, and stalks away.

Jason watches him go, his righteous anger continuing to simmer, until it occurs to him that Tim is actually quite angry with him. Some of the bite goes out of his rage, and worry creeps through his body.

“No, wait,” he starts, hurrying after him. “Don’t go—”

“—Tim!”

Jason sits upright in bed, arm outstretched as if to make a grab for a hand or arm, only to grasp air.

A maelstrom of different emotions cloud his mind, blocking his awareness of the room around him for several long seconds while he fights for his bearings. Anger and hurt and guilt and fear, all tied up with longing, playing on repeat in his head.

He has the strangest compulsion to make amends for something and he doesn’t remember what.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back close to his body, elbow to chest, hand pressing against his shoulder. The skin radiates heat through the cotton of his t-shirt, warmer than his normal body temperature; probably from the wound.

He is alone, surrounded by pillows and a comforter that should smell like Tim but don’t (because Alfred washed them, so they’re new), in a room that feels somehow too big (which it shouldn’t, it’s the same size as the other rooms, as his room that he never goes into if he can help it. It’s bigger than the holding cell was).

A glance at the digital clock reads two in the morning. Prime patrol time, and more importantly, four hours since he put his head down. He’s pretty sure that’s the most sleep he’s had in a week, even if it was cut short by another of those maddening dream sequences that vanish from his memory in direct relation to how awake he becomes.

Where’s Tim?

He swings his feet over the edge of the bed, ready to go looking for him in the house, before remembering what he said before he fell asleep.

Don’t freak out.

Right. No problem. Tim’s just off somewhere having a human moment, which is just as well. He probably needs a break from Jason. Jason knows he needs a break from Tim—from everyone really. He can’t remember the last time he was in someone’s constant presence.

This is a good thing, he tells himself as he glances around the room, absently picking at the dry skin on the side of his thumb. He didn’t really look around when he first walked in. His brain was still trying to process the concept of Tim being the one to suggest his room as being the best place for Jason to relax.

And the surprise that he was actually right.

Tim is everywhere in these walls—video game posters and obscure pop culture refences—and furniture. There are candid photographs of him and his friends—Jason scowls at one of him and the Super Clone standing way too close together—and half-finished projects of wire and circuit. Clothes and books are strewn across the floor and—

“Christ, kid, you’re a goddamned slob.”

He never really took note of that quirk of Tim’s before, probably because they never really hung out. His knowledge of the kid’s lifestyle was limited to his own notions of what spoiled rich boys were like, and the general observation that his replacement ran on coffee and energy drinks.

His thumb is bleeding now from his continued picking, and he wipes it angrily on his pants, standing up. He needs a distraction. Otherwise, he’s going to go looking for Tim, or blow up his phone with calls until he picks up. He needs to prove to himself that he still has some control—test how long he can manage on his own, or at least test how long it takes between Tim leaving him alone and the anxious thoughts to set in.

He’s coming back. He wanted me to be here, or he wouldn’t have suggested it.

Jason just has to be patient.

Which…yeah, that was an issue even before this fixation crap.

“Screw this, I’m not just sitting here,” he grumbles, and starts wandering around the room, sorting clothes and tools and whatever other detritus has gathered on the floor. Cleaning is both mindless and immersive, something to do with his hands instead of scratch bloody welts into his skin.

And yet, he still drops everything when his phone vibrates.

“Tim?” he asks in the same breath that he unlocks the phone.

“Sorry.” Barbara actually sounds apologetic. “Just me.”

Disappointment hits him like a punch to the face. “No, yeah, it’s fine.”

“How are you holding up?”

Of course she knows what’s going on, too.

“Spectacular,” he says dryly, running a hand through his hair. “Can we maybe can the sympathy? I’m getting enough of that over here as it is. And you never call just to check in.”

There’s a beat, and then Barbara speaks again, still in her own voice, but more businesslike. “I may have found something.”

He likes that about her. She doesn’t get upset when called out on something, nor does she spend time on bullshit.

How the hell she dated Dick so long will forever be a mystery.

“What?” he asks, studying a strip of picture booth photos of Steph and Tim; the typical assortment of funny faces, pressed close together. Jason frowns, tugging absently at his hair.

“I’m not sure it’s anything, yet,” Barbara cautions, “but it’s almost certainly related to your situation.”

“And how’s that?”

“Because it involves Carrie Cutter.”

Jason straightens up. “What?”

“As soon as you and Tim established that Cupid was involved—both Cupids, I guess—I set up a search algorithm to track her whereabouts for the past month or so.” Of course she’s been monitoring everything from her little command center; this goddamn family and their surveillance… “It’s a bit too neat, someone with her modus operandi just bumping into the real Cupid.”

“And we don’t do coincidence.”

“Exactly.”

“So, she had to be sent there by someone or something. Specifically, to steal from Eros.”

“Yeah. Still working on who, though,” Barbara agrees. “That’s not the most interesting part, though.”

Jason’s scalp is beginning to burn from the distracted tugging, but he doesn’t stop. The pain is punishing, keeps him focussed on Barbara’s voice, and not the urge to hang up on her to call Tim. “Lay it on me.”

“I’ve got newspaper reports from the village of Delphi in Greece with a woman of her description killed a blind twelve-year-old two weeks ago. Sliced her throat with one of her arrowheads and walked away, took out anyone that tried to stop her.”

“Fuck.” Jason almost bites his tongue.

Carrie Cutter’s always been a murderer, but from what he knows of her from Roy, she never hurt a kid. His fingers itch with the need to punch something; he yanks his fingers out of his hair, several strands coming away with it, and slams his fist down on Tim’s desk. It creaks at the force.

“You okay?”

“Better than she’s going to be,” he replies tightly. “What else?”

“You heard me say Delphi, right?”

There’s a pause, like she’s letting him process, which he’s glad for; he did miss that the first time. Jason thinks the news over again, remembering bits and pieces memorized from National Geographic when he was a kid.

“Delphi,” he repeats. “Like the Oracle of Delphi Delphi?”

“Exactly.”

His back goes even more rigid. “Isn’t it common in a lot of myths that people who can see the future tend to be blind?”

“Good memory.”

“So we’re thinking the kid was a seer.”

“I’m thinking the kid was the actual Oracle of Delphi.”

Jason whistles. “But there hasn’t been one of those in hundreds of years, right?”

“Not since Theodosius I closed the temple when the Pythia gave him some bad news. Five years later, he was dead, and the Visigoths had captured Rome, and after that it wasn’t safe to be an oracle. But secret societies have been started over less.”

“Still, how would someone like Carrie Cutter know or even be interested in looking up some secret oracle? Even for Queen, she’s small-time.”

“Still working on that part.”

“And if she did talk to the oracle beforehand, what did the kid tell her that made her kill her?”

“Unfortunately, there was no tech anywhere around to pick up on that. Not even tourists taking cellphone videos.”

“Fuck.”

“But lucky for us, we have someone that can sort of see ghosts.”

Jason’s eyes widen. “Duke.”

“Exactly,” Barbara says, and sounds smug, like she’s just managed a checkmate against fate or circumstance or something. “As soon as he’s done with Dick, I’m sending him on quick trip to Greece. He’ll get a kick out of the plane, I think.”

Jason winces.

It won’t be easy for the newest member of the family to watch a kid being murdered, all for Jason. Worse is the fact he’s a hundred percent sure Duke’s seen worse.

Instead of voicing that thought, however, he says, “Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

There’s a heavy silence.

“Do you want me to stay on the line?” Barbara asks after a moment. “Until Tim gets back.”

Jason’s first instinct is a snappish retort, a denial that he needs her pity.

But his hand has found its way back into his hair, tearing at the strands as he anxiously waits for the younger man to return and for all he knows, it could be anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours before he sees him again.

He shivers at the thought.

That…would be bad.

And so he clears his throat and tells Barbara in a gruff voice, “Yeah. Okay."

⁂⁂⁂

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