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electrasev5nwrites · 11 months

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Jason/Tim soulmate au. Part 1/? AO3 is still down and I wanted to work on the update for this so I figured it might make sense to post here. We are all waiting for the site to come back up so maybe someone wants to read. This is multiple chapters condensed into one post, it didn't let me add the whole document but the fic stands at about 15,000 words rn.

Tim woke up in a cold sweat, panting and disoriented. He stared at the shadows moving on his wall for a moment to acclimate.

There had been nothing that night. No dreams. Tim had just laid down at night and woke up in the morning with a blank space stretching in between.

That was, he figured, a pretty good metaphor for his life in general.

That was the weirdest Sunday of his life. He wandered around his house in a daze. It felt like the color had been ironed out of his life. But at that point, he thought that something was wrong with him.

He didn't actually worry about his soulmate until the second night it had happened. His dreams were often hard to get a handle on. When he'd been little it had been hunger and pain and a demented carnival of ugly adult faces, dirty alleys and a brown sofa that meant safety. For a golden year, the dreams had been of free fall and neon lights, bleeding knuckles and French food and a library.

Tim splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. His stomach twisted with a fear that he wouldn't think about. Dreams, he thought, were not the most practical soulmate connection. He wondered what he gave his soulmate back. He didn't think he was enough of an open book asking to be loved to be a name on a wrist, but he probably wasn't emotionally rich enough to be passing on dreams.

"Not that this life isn't worth seeing at night," Tim scoffed wryly. He slung his backpack over a shoulder and drank juice out of the container. He shoved a poptart in his pocket and stumbled out the door to catch his bus.

He ate the poptart on the bus, hunched over so that the driver wouldn't yell at him for leaving crumbs. They landed on his pants.

With a sigh he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The rocking of the bus lulled him back to sleep. Tim welcomed it. Maybe this would fix whatever had gone wrong in the connection, like turning a computer off and on again.

He woke up again without seeing anything.

By the time he got to school, he had worked himself into a panic. He chose to be late to first period in order to go to the library to find a reference about soulmate troubles. The teacher gave him a disapproving look when he slipped in, but let it pass without comment.

He was sneakily looking at the header "signs your unmet soulmate has died" when the morning loudspeaker announcement started.

"I have some sad news for you today," said the Principal.

Tim closed his book and looked up. The homeroom teacher was frowning slightly, looking around the classroom. He didn't seem to know where this was going.

"Over the weekend we've had a loss."

He felt his back tense.

"It is with the heaviest of regrets that I must inform you that 3rd year student Jason Todd-Wayne has passed away. The school counselors welcome anyone who would like to talk about this. I understand that…"

It became white noise to Tim. Students around him were reacting with gasps and whispers. He leaned forward and put his face into his hands, reeling.

This was a bad way to find out that Robin had been his soulmate. Too late to do anything about it, and with no way to prove it.

The next months were manic. Batman went off the rails. Tim did, too. He traveled to Bludhaven and begged the first Robin to come back. He stayed up for days on end and then he crashed and lost 20 hour stretches of time to the void of dreamless sleep. He was late to school and sleeping on the bus. He was confronting Batman and stealing a Robin costume and taking his soulmate's old role as the guiding light to Batman's self imposed darkness.

He didn't tell anyone about his connection to Jason. It felt like a lie even if it was true. It felt like something he would be saying to ingratiate himself and make them love the cuckoo in the nest.

Tim regretted that when the dreams came back 6 months later.

"Maybe they were in a coma?" Dick suggested, not without sympathy. He reached out to ruffle Tim's hair. Tim ducked unsuccessfully. "I would have thought they were dead, too, but the dead don't come back."

Tim fidgeted. There was a heaviness in Dick's voice that probably meant Jason.

That was awkward, since Tim had been sure that Jason had been his soulmate.

'I should have said that months ago.' Tim was kicking himself for that. 'It sounds so messed up now. I'll give Dick nightmares if I tell him I think Jason crawled out of his grave and then didn't even come here.'

Well. It was worth saying even if it wasn't about Jason.

"I hope this isn't too much information," Tim said, "but last week I dreamt about digging my way out of the ground. With a belt buckle."

Dick looked a little ill.

"That sounds like…" he trailed off, because it felt crazy to say. It sounded like his soulmate was a zombie? A zombie whose dreams had been of the suffocating dirt and bleeding fingers, and then beeping. Endless beeping and the harsh likes of fluorescent lights overhead.

It sounded like his soulmate was in the hospital, Tim had to admit. The grave thing was probably some kind of vivid nightmare.

"It sounds like a terrible dream," Dick sympathized. Tim let Dick pull him into a hug. "Have you tried reaching out? Maybe your mark on your soulmate is one of the more literal kinds."

"I can write on myself in marker and see what happens," Tim said. "But I don't think that's it."

Dick huffed against Tim's hair. "You're not that easily read, no," he agreed wryly. "And I guess it won't help you reach out if marks on you echo onto your soulmate."

Tim thought about it. "Not unless we can bruise me in a coherent message," he decided. "Technically it could work? Cutting a note would be easier but if it scarred that would be embarrassing. So, bruising. It would have to be something simple, though, and they might get mad about it-"

"We aren't bruising or cutting a message into you," Dick cut him off. He shook Tim lightly. "Precious baby bird. Delicate cargo."

"Bruises like banana," Tim offered practically. He was thirteen now, he was definitely old enough for the soulmate connection to go both ways.

Dick extended his arms to frown at Tim from a distance, tilted his head, and then picked Tim up to whole body toss him on the sofa and roll him into a protesting blanket burrito.

"Police brutality!" Tim hollered.

Someone opened a door. "Alfred, stop him!" Tim shouted. "Help." He wiggled and nearly fell off the couch. Dick caught him.

"Hey, Bruce," Dick said stiffly.

The door closed. Tim was a burrito until time for dinner.

Dick was gone on a doubtlessly tense patrol with Bruce and Tim was ready for bed by the time he realized he'd been deliberately distracted. He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Maybe he's right. It's probably… It's not a dead boy that came back."

He tried to sleep. He really did. The sick thought that maybe he was hallucinating the dreams because he wanted Jason to be back wouldn't leave him alone.

"I wouldn't want that for him." Tim tossed and turned to mumble directly into his pillow. "That would be terrifying. Waking up in his grave, alone. I don't want that for him," he insisted.

He felt guilty and generally bad. He got up, left Drake manor, and went to the Batcave to wait.

He didn't end up sleeping, so he should have just gone on patrol anyway, Tim groused internally. Bruce and Dick didn't agree when they got back, but he thought they were secretly relieved he was there to yell at instead of working out their irritation with each other.

He moved like a zombie through his morning routine and dredged up the smallest amount of energy for his semester finals.

Life stretched out that way. Tim avoided sleep as much as he could. When he did sleep, he never liked the dreams. The hospital turned to a nightmarish litany of blood and death and crying in the dark.

He eventually gaslit himself into believing he'd imagined his soulmate dying. Tim felt vaguely ashamed when he thought about it. He was a creep. He'd fixated on Robin so hard that he'd convinced himself his soulmate was the dead Robin.

'I hope I never meet my soulmate,' Tim thought on his 14th birthday. 'They deserve someone better.'

The dreams turned to busy urban streets, ticking bombs, guns, and a green haze. Tim was optimistic that this was better than the crying, but he was still concerned. He'd do a welfare check if he knew who they were.

'Maybe that's why I'm Robin,' he thought wistfully. 'Maybe I need to save them.'

Eventually, there was a new criminal in town, and he had Bruce and Dick at odds. At first they fought viciously over whether or not Red Hood's methods were effective. Later they fought over the same thing they always did: who was in control.

"I'm not saying I'm fine with the murder!" Dick threw his hands up in disgust. "I'm just saying that crime rates are down, the city is safer right now."

"Crime rates are down, except for all the people who've been murdered." Bruce didn't even look at Dick. "Murder remains a crime."

Tim did his level best to become smaller. Maybe if he didn't move at all, they would forget he was there.

"You know what I meant," Dick shot back. "It's not that black and white, Bruce. He's trying to get the crime under control. I think we should seriously consider whether or not the situation is more stable with him in it or not."

"He's a mass murderer," Bruce said. "I want both of you to stay away from him." It was an order.

Dick made a sound of disgust and stomped up the stairs. "Why would I seek him out?" He shouted over his shoulder. "I don't live here. I'm going home."

Batman looked at Robin.

Tim put his hands up. "I'll leave him alone," he agreed. It was easy. He didn't want to get near the Red Hood. He thought both of them were right: the city was safer now, and the Red Hood was a mass murderer. That was out of Robin's league.

Bruce grunted and turned back to the computer, apparently satisfied that at least someone was listening to him.

JASON I

"Cover that shit up." Dad looked at him with disgust. "You're being dramatic."

"I'm not." Jason muttered it, but Dad still heard and gave him a dangerous look. He put his hands up.

"Don't show your mother." The door slammed.

Jason was left alone to poke at the bruise.

It looked bad. It spread all over his left knee and mottled down his shin. It should hurt. It didn't, because it wasn't his bruise.

He smoothed a hand over it.

"I wonder what kind of person you are."

It probably didn't mean anything healthy if you were the type who only left your hurts on your soulmate, Jason decided. Probably meant you couldn't communicate your needs. It seemed like a particularly plaintive soulmark. Like it was silently asking for help.

He stripped off his shorts and tossed them on the chair. He dragged out a pair of jeans and pulled them on even though it was hot as hell out. It was easier to pretend they were his bruises. He didn't want to share anything from his soulmate with his Dad.

Over the years, he didn't actually get that many secondhand bruises. The first time he saw the gaping impression of a cut without any blood around it he felt vaguely ill, but it was only a scrape.

"Maybe she's a skater," Jason thought aloud. "It's always knees and elbows."

He liked that thought. He liked the simple, innocent marks he got. He hoped that he didn't leave the same type of soulmark. If he did, he'd be passing on black eyes and hangnails and blisters that popped and got infected on his feet from shoes that didn't fit. It made him feel dirty, diseased, like he'd taint his soulmate.

When he looked at the needle marks on his Mom, he had to push down a thought that was much uglier than even the shame.

Years later, his soulmate may as well have been a ghost. Jason poked at his arm in class with a mechanical pencil as if that could prompt his soulmate to give a sign of life.

'Probably quit skating,' Jason thought. He flicked his pencil back and forth.

Of course he wanted to know who it was. But it would happen eventually, right? And now that he was Robin he had something else to live for. He stopped checking for bruises and scrapes.

One day after peeling off the costume, he was surprised that the dirt he tried to scrub away from his upper arm was actually a soulmate bruise.

He'd actually forgotten. Jason stopped for a moment. He'd forgotten about his soulmate. What kind of person did that make him? Something strange churned in his gut.

Bruce eyed him. "What happened there?" He pointed.

"Nothing." Jason said too quickly and covered the bruise with his hand. It was private.

Bruce looked massively unimpressed. "Show me, Jason," he sighed. He loomed closer like the great honking bat he was.

Jason scowled at him. "It's nothing," He complained.

"Then why are you trying to hide it?" Bruce grabbed his arm and lifted it, squinting at the bruise. He paused. His expression and tone went painfully neutral. "This looks like a hand."

Jason blinked. "Huh." He twisted to look at it. "It does," he agreed, honestly surprised. It took a moment for the penny to drop. "It looks like an adult's hand." He reeled at that. His soulmate couldn't be much older than him, right? Who was dragging them around hard enough to bruise?

They were silent for a moment. He knew Bruce was thinking back through recent patrols, trying to figure out when Jason could have been manhandled.

"It's not my bruise," Jason said suddenly. This was private, but- he wanted his adult to know this. He felt- he didn't know how he felt, but it was a lot.

Bruce paused. "Ah."

The air felt heavy.

"Do you get a lot of those?" He was still using that careful tone. Jason hated it. It was too cautious, it was like he thought Jason needed special handling.

"I haven't noticed bruises for years." Jason yanked his arm away and huffed. He straightened his back and reported like a Robin ought to. "I don't remember anything that raises red flags. Scrapes and bruises on elbows and knees. I assumed they skate or something."

Bruce made a sound of acknowledgement. He let Jason pull back. Slowly he raised a hand and ruffled Jason's sweaty hair.

"Gross." He complained without any heat in it.

He made a note of it. He harbored the quiet ambition that he wanted to save his soulmate. He was Robin for a brief shining moment, and then he was choking on hot blood while a clock ticked and a clown laughed and it hurt, it all hurt-

Fin.

He woke up in oppressive silence after the end. He screamed and banged until his fingers bruised to the bone. He begged with gods he didn't believe in. He tore his belt buckle off, broke through the coffin (oh god, he was in a coffin, oh god, why had they left him here?) and he used the buckle to dig through dirt and he was suffocating on it, it was in his lungs and it hurt so bad, he was sobbing and praying and he burst out into the rain slimy and newborn, filthy and alone. Alone.

He lost time. He lost a lot of time.

He woke up again. He was bigger now, and he fought for every inch of freedom under Talia's fist. His body was alien to him now. It was huge and muscular, powerfully framed in a way that a boy who grew up hungry shouldn't end up. He felt like a hulking monster. He'd died a boy of 15 and he woke up somehow 18. Frankenstein's monster was cheated out of childhood.

The shadow injuries did not help with the way he felt about his body. The paint job on his ribs and limbs changed daily with ugly bruises and scrapes and gashes that didn't hurt him at all.

He learned to ignore them. He didn't think about them. He was too feral to remember what they meant, and when he did remember, he was too wild to care. His soulmate was having a worse time than he remembered but it wasn't his concern now. He'd never find them. He'd died. Surely they'd given up. Surely they were meant for the boy who had died and not the thing that had crawled out of his grave. He didn't get a soulmate.

Jason didn't take that part too hard.

He didn't get a lot of things. He didn't get to graduate high school. He didn't get to grow up. He didn't get to be loved.

But Batman didn't get to replace him. He didn't get to put someone else in the costume Jason died in, like none of it really mattered, like he wasn't Bruce's son once.

He went back to Gotham, the shithole that birthed him and spat him into the jaws of a monster, and he became honest in his own monstrosity. He put heads in a bag and bullets in faces and an ultimatum to Bruce and eventually, he put old pass codes into Titan Tower.

Part 2

JASON 2

Titan Tower was worse than he'd ever guessed. Cyborg and Beast Boy and Raven were easy to take out for the count. It was all kinds of fucked up that they were still there. He'd died and nothing had changed for them. He felt even further away from his body than usual.

A sick curiosity led him to the Hall of Heroes. He wished it hadn't. He wished he could burn out the knowledge that they really hadn't cared at all.

"There's no statue of the last Robin." His voice echoed. It sounded hollow to his own ears, but the voice modification in his helmet smoothed out the hurt.

The replacement blinked at him without comprehension. He snatched up his weapon. There was fear and confusion on his face, but not nearly enough. He didn't even know how unprepared he was.

'Isn't that how it fuckin goes,' he thought, not very sympathetic.

"They'll probably put one up for you." It was more bitter than Jason meant it to be.

The replacement's eyes widened at the threat.

God, it hurt. It was so unfair. He'd died and no one cared. He'd died Robin and they'd disliked him so much that they didn't even add him to the creepy hall where they honored dead kids in suits. And this little fucker in his uniform didn't even know that the real owner had come knocking.

Jason leaned into the sharp comfort of the Pit. It lapped up to wash away the rough edges of his emotions. It was the only way he got through with his plan. Without the Pit, he would have given up, gone home, and either drank himself to sleep or shot someone in the head. Possibly himself. But the green light kept him on track. He didn't hurt anymore.

He gave the replacement his chance. The little fucker ran, and tried to reason and weasel his way out of things. And then he screamed. Jason was too far away to hear his begging and feel pity. The green wrapped him in an icy blanket of clarity. It felt good, even.

He let the Replacement try to fight him and countered his attacks until the cuckoo got tired out. Jason was indomitable. He was tireless.

Couldn't say the same for spoiled little Timothy Drake.

When Replacement Robin got tired enough for the despair and hopelessness to set in, Jason ripped away the bo and bashed him in the face with it. The replacement tried to duck away and block. He only succeeded in catching part of the blow on a hand as well. Bones cracked.

Replacement Robin hit the floor with an agonized howl. He spat out blood but he got up fast.

Jason kicked him in the ribs. He fell down again. Jason grinned behind his helmet and brought the bo down in a savage line onto the ribcage again. Replacement didn't get up fast that time.

"You're not doing very well," Jason said, faux sympathetic, and stomped on Drake's shin. That netted him an agonized convulsion. Drake banged his own head into the wall.

Jason laughed and took a few steps backwards, checking the angle of the closest camera to see if Bruce would be able to see all of that.

He noted movement on the floor. He looked down idly to see the Replacement pulling himself along on one elbow and a hand.

"Why are you doing this?" It was barely a gasp. The replacement looked pitiful, dragging his broken leg behind him on the floor. Jason followed at a leisurely pace. The replacement was trying to get to an alarm system. Jason would let him get close enough for hope.

This was going to hurt Bruce so much more than the batmobile explosion would have, Jason mused. This was the correct choice. Bruce was going to watch this security footage on repeat and hope against hope that this time, little Timmy made it to the emergency alarm. And he never would.

Belatedly, he answered the doomed little bird. "Why does anyone do anything?" He asked rhetorically. Then he huffed out a dry laugh. "You're not as smart as you're supposed to be, replacement," he crooned. His tone went sickly sweet. He was copying Talia unconsciously.

"Why are you calling me that?" Not-Robin twisted to confront Jason dead on, face screwed up in pain and stubbornness.

'Come on. It's obvious. Haven't you ever heard of context clues before?'

He lost his patience. "Who am I?" He demanded. He itched with the impulse to unload a bullet in the little nitwit. One hand twitched towards his gun and settled on a knife instead.

"I don't know." The replacement was staring at Jason's empty hand like it was a revelation. A disbelieving smile crept across his face.

Aww. He'd cracked.

Jason kicked the little fucker in the ribs. The bastard curled up into a pathetic ball and choked.

"You should know," Jason seethed. "You stole everything from me. You should take off that suit right now."

The younger boy was writhing, but he was clearly trying to uncurl and look at Jason. He managed to look just as Jason unsnapped his helmet and pulled it off.

"Who am I?" Jason demanded, wild with impatience.

"Oh." It was small and wavered.

For a moment he luxuriated in how shaky and broken the other boy's voice was. Then he saw the way the replacement's eyes were tearing up. "Don't cry," Jason said, disgusted. He casually lashed out and broke the other boy's nose with his boot. Blood spurted out and there was a crunch as the nose went sideways. "Robins don't get to cry, Robins just get to die. Don't you know anything?"

The replacement didn't even react. He was still staring like he'd finally realized he was seeing a ghost. Jason blinked, a little discomfited. He had to fight to keep the comfortable green haze in place.

"It's you," Drake said. He sounded relieved somehow, which was a fucking head trip.

Something in Jason's brain stirred to life, trying to direct his attention away from his mission. He felt uneasy. He pressed it back down.

He followed the Replacement's line of eyesight from Jason's face to his hand. Again? This time, Jason tried to see what the fuss was about. Huh. It had a nasty shadow bruise on it, and the impression of a violent break around the index finger.

"That's not your business." He knelt in front of the downed bird and grabbed him by his hair. He ignored whatever the Robin was trying to say and the broken fingers pawing weakly at his hand and chest. "It's time to wrap this up," Jason decided. "Night night, baby bird."

The replacement flinched, eyes big and wounded.

Jason took his knife and gouged a slice into the replacement's throat. The replacement convulsed and keened through wet bubbles. "Shush," he scolded. He wrapped his hand around the wound to gather up enough blood to fingerprint his message on the walls. It only took a moment. He cracked his neck as he stood and caught sight of his own reflection in a window.

He died a second time in the moments that passed. His vision whited out. He knew the replacement was gasping for life on the floor, futilely trying to stopper what would be a slow death, but he didn't hear any of it.

"No." He denied. His voice cracked.

The replacement's panting was getting weaker.

The monster in the reflection had ghost bruises on his left eye. Blood from his nose. Along his jaw, he had an abrasion from a boot. And on his throat there was the exact slice that Jason had just opened up in Tim Drake's delicate neck. If he took off his shirt he'd probably be black and blue with wounds he'd personally inflicted.

'I was supposed to save you.'

He stared, struck immobile with horror.

This, he realized, was the worst moment of his lives. He felt violently human. He wasn't a monster after all. It would have been safer to be a monster. A monster would feel nothing when confronted with what it had done.

Tim had known. Jason realized that belatedly. Tim had known who his soulmate was and that was why he'd been happy to see the bruise on his hand. He'd been happy.

And he'd been- he'd been sharing Robin's injuries with Jason, Jason had never been separated from Robin, Drake had included the pathetic dead boy and this was how Jason had repaid him.

Robins, Robins, the soulmate phenomenon had connected Robins.

He didn't remember the details of giving first aid, after. He just knew that he'd done it. Drake wasn't out of the woods. He'd need fluids and actual medical attention.

Jason fully came back to himself in his third best safehouse as he finished up a phone call to a nurse practitioner he could trust. She'd be over within ten minutes. He let the phone fall to the table and paced near the limp body he'd brought back.

He'd fucked up. Jason knew that now. He'd fucked up.

It didn't occur to him just how much it would freak Bruce out to see that beating on video and then watch him carry Drake out of the tower. He wouldn't have appreciated it even if he had thought of it.

TIM 2

"I feel shit," Tim croaked, as soon as he was conscious. It was as good as a cry for help, coming from him.

He didn't know where he was, but he was tucked into a bed. Constriction from bandages pressed into pretty much every part of his body he was aware of. His left foot was heavy with a brace, which was going to suck.

He tried to raise a hand to rub sleep out of his eyes. He managed a garbled shriek instead. His hand was mangled. It fell back to the bed and that hurt too.

The sound must have summoned someone. A shadow fell over his face. Tim looked up, expecting Alfred or Bruce or Doctor Thomas or even another Teen Titan.

Jason Todd stood in the doorway with a pale face and wide eyes. He looked like he was seeing a ghost. He also looked like he'd gotten his ass handed to him, with a massive black eye among other injuries.

Tim stared. His heart jumped in his chest.

'Those are my injuries. He did that to me. Those are my injuries on him, he's my soulmate and he's alive!'

Jason swallowed. Tim could see his throat move. Because he was alive.

"Yes!" Tim shouted. Then he had to cough. "I was right," he tried to say. It was incomprehensible. He needed to tell Dick immediately.

Jason hovered, hands stretched out but not brave enough to touch. "Easy."

"You're alive!" He did his best to sit up. It wasn't good. He found that one of his arms was okay, but lifting it tugged on something horrible in his ribcage.

"Stop that!" Jason panicked. "Lie down!"

Tim flopped down, grinning. "You're alive," he garbled out, and then had to pause and wheeze. He wanted to say, "And you saved me, why did you save me?"

He was cut off long before he had the oxygen to try saying that.

"Your ribs." Jason swallowed again. He squeezed his hands into fists. "You've got three breaks. I'll just- do you need anything?"

'I'm going to stay as long as he lets me,' Tim decided wildly. He'd just finally got his soulmate back. He was going to hang on as well as he could with four (?) broken fingers. 'I just need to get comfortable and tell Bruce where I am so he doesn't worry. And I'm thirsty, actually.'

Tim eyed his host and opened his mouth slightly. Jason leaned in to hear. "Iced coffee and a computer," he rasped. It was barely audible even to Tim.

Jason's expression went flat.

"I'm gonna be here for a while," Tim said practically. He tried to sit up again to get a better look at Jason Todd, at Robin. Again, it did not go well.

Then there was a warm hand on his chest keeping him down. "Stop bashing your stupid bird brains against the window." The frustration in the voice was muffled. He heard it like it was underwater.

Tim stared at the hand. It was big, with broad, flat nails. It had scars on the knuckles and a ghost bruise along the back.

He remembered that hand, curled around his own bo.

Tim didn't say anything. He couldn't.

The hand pulled back. He couldn't stop looking at it.

'Does he have the boots on?' He suddenly needed to know. It was suddenly very important to know.

"...kid?" Jason's voice was raspy.

It felt like there was a massive weight on his chest. He couldn't breathe.

Oh. It was a panic attack. Tim tried to put a hand on his chest and convulsed with the resultant pain because fuck, his dominant hand was ruined. The combination of broken ribs and a panic attack was bad. His breathing was ragged and ugly. His eyes teared over until the room was a blur.

When he managed to escape the cycle of wheezing because of pain and being in pain because of wheezing, the room was empty.

That was probably for the best.

Tim laid there, still and cold. He was too tired to think straight. He welcomed the lack of thought and feeling.

He still wasn't feeling much when Jason knocked on his door and cracked it open. His face was red from crying, Tim noticed, and then wondered if it actually was. Those weren't his tears, were they? He blinked slowly. He'd raise a hand to check his face, but he was capable of learning.

"Got an IV in you, but you need to eat." Jason avoided eye contact. "If I hold a straw up for you, can you drink broth?"

It took a while to process that he needed to answer. "Yeah," Tim croaked out. His voice was so reedy. He grimaced at the way it sounded high and childish.

He drank until he had to cough. Jason pulled it away and hovered for a moment until he remembered himself and took a step back. "That ok?" He asked, gruff.

Tim winced and nodded. "Yeah," he rasped. "Just hate that stuff."

Jason looked at the broth. He looked a little offended.

Oh.

"...Did you actually cook that?" Tim wondered.

"It's fine." Jason took the broth back. "Not beef broth, then. How do you want your liquid calories?"

"Coffee."

The disbelieving look he got back was more humanizing than anything else he'd seen yet. Tim's hindbrain relaxed a bit. No one who would hurt him would give him the "how are you still alive" look.

"I can do a smoothie." Jason offered. It sounded a little sullen.

"I don't really like fruits. Or vegetables," Tim said, just to see how far he could push this.

Jason's face was twisted in confused outrage now. Then he noticed that Tim was smiling. "Ha ha," he said darkly. "Last chance. Any allergies that your school doesn't know about?"

Tim eyed him judgmentally.

"Of course I did recon," Jason said. It was defensive.

Tim said nothing.

"Shut up." Jason slammed the bedroom door on his way out.

'Oh. A bedroom.' Tim looked around, curious. 'Is this where he sleeps?' It was maybe 10 ft by 12 ft, with off white walls and no decorations. There was a bed and a table. That was it. Tim frowned. 'Does he not know about paint?'

Jason was back in a few minutes with a green smoothie. It was delicious.

"It's alright," Tim said in an unconvincing tone, because petty revenge was all he had at this point. Now that he was thinking again he was pent up with aggression that needed a safe outlet.

Jason wasn't going to hurt him anymore. He was pretty sure. Otherwise, there wouldn't be any point in giving him medical care. But Tim wasn't confident enough in that assessment to outright try to fight Jason again.

'When I can move again, I'm going to kick his enormous ass,' Tim thought, grim and serious. 'He won't even fit in the uniform anymore. Why'd he ask me to take mine off? Batman is going to have to make him a new uniform.'

"I'm glad it's fine," Jason said, and it seemed genuine enough that Tim almost felt bad. He put the empty glass on the bedside table when Tim was done. "I need to check your bandages. Do you want the bathroom first?"

Tim did need to pee. And there was no possibility that he was going to sit up and walk on his own.

"If you pick me up, I'm going to scream and throw up," he said, because it was true.

Jason took a step backwards.

"But I also need to go to the bathroom," he allowed. Jason was just gonna have to deal with whatever that meant.

Jason looked a little green. "Awesome," he muttered. "That's just fucking fine, isn't it." He ran a hand through the weird white patch in his hair.

Oh. Lazarus pit. Tim put that together extremely late. But that was not supposed to be able to bring the dead back, it was kind of a misnomer, really, so how was Jason here?

He had a sudden realization. He did his best to keep it off of his face.

'I already know that's not what happened. He woke up in the grave, alone. No one helped him.'

Tim really did feel nauseous now. Actually knowing it was a fact and not a horrible nightmare- the phantom sensation of dirt underneath his nails and worms against his hands, muscles burning and lungs on fire-

Okay, so that was panic attack number two. That was kind of embarrassing. He thought he'd make it longer. He dissolved into another round of panting hysteria.

It must have been shorter this time. Tim managed to focus on the world again and found that Jason was there with a white knuckled grip on the nightstand. His other hand was pressing down on Tim's head, stroking his hair. He sounded utterly broken but he was repeating the kind of soothing nonsense that everyone used- "it's alright, shush, just breathe-"

Tim leaned into the sensation like a cat. It was something to ground him that didn't hurt at all.

He felt comfortably foggy again. Maybe the panic attacks were the best way to get through this, he thought. If he could only keep them coming at a steady rate, he could spend time around his soulmate. He cleared his throat.

Jason stopped talking immediately.

"Hey, Jason?"

He could hear the older boy swallow. "Yeah?"

"Can you help me to the bathroom now?"

Once that was done, he was grateful to lie back down. "How bad is it?" Tim rasped. He had to know. He had seen dark purple bruising on his hip when he'd pulled his pants down.

"How bad," Jason echoed. He took in a controlled breath. "Three broken ribs, like I said. Lotta bruising. Your right hand is fucked- 3 breaks and a sprain. Minor concussion, we think. And uh." He looked at Tim's neck. He stopped talking.

Tim wanted to see it. He wanted to take off the bandage and see how bad it was. His pulse jumped. "Show me," he demanded.

Jason looked at him with wide eyes. "What?" He spluttered. "Are you- if we take off the bandages, you're gonna start to bleed out again."

Tim rolled his eyes. "It'll have clotted by now," he said. "But fine. Show me on you."

Jason looked ill.

Tim didn't back down.

Jason let out a long, shuddering breath, and then tugged his hoodie down. The fabric moved enough that Tim could see a smooth line. No, he realized, fascinated and horrified. If he looked closely enough he could see the slight indentations where stitches were pulling at it. That was his cut.

He was shaking. "How deep is it?" His head was spinning.

"Not deep," came the answer quickly. "I hadn't intended…"

The answer trailed off. Tim filled in "to let you die quickly." He felt sick again.

"Any more questions?" Jason was making a really good stab at a calm, level tone. Haha, a stab.

"The plan wasn't to take me here." Tim said it like a statement because he was pretty sure he was supposed to die in Teen Tower.

Jason confirmed anyway. "No, it wasn't."

Tim nodded as briskly as he could. "And you changed your mind because…" he trailed off. He couldn't say it. He couldn't choke out the words "you're my soulmate."

"Because you're my soulmate, and I'm sorry." Jason broke eye contact. He swallowed. "That… that was a mistake."

Tim eyed him judgmentally. A mistake was getting salt free butter. Breaking into someone's private space and kicking them to bits was a bit more than a mistake.

Jason must have read that off his face. He huffed out a laugh without any amusement in it at all. He abruptly turned to face the door and ran his hand through his hair again, pulling at it. "What a nightmare," he said. It was meant to be to himself but Tim felt he was uniquely qualified to insert himself on that topic and he also felt like being a massive bitch after his brutal murder was described as "a mistake."

"That'll be a treat for me," Tim said snidely. "Maybe take sleeping pills tonight."

Jason swung to look at him with a new, horrified comprehension.

Tim almost felt bad about it. But he was the one who was probably going to rehash his own murder attempt from the murderer's perspective and deal with whatever that fucked up in his brain, so he glared back.

"Fuck," Jason said, strangled, and then he fled.

Chapter 3

Whatever Jason did, it didn't result in the anticipated nightmare for Tim. He woke up in a better mood than he could have expected. The blinking clock on the bedside said it was 7:14. Morning or PM? Tim didn't know.

It was funny that he'd started a lifelong habit of avoiding sleep because of an aversion to dreamless nights, but now he was relieved for one. Daylight with his soulmate was bad enough. He didn't think he could handle the dreams.

"I still feel like roadkill," Tim announced to his empty room. He flexed his fingers speculatively. No? Still not good? He'd try again in a few hours.

Something clattered in the next room. It sounded like a mug hitting a wooden table in haste.

'What even is this place?' Tim wondered. 'Can I make him take me to the living room? He's gotta have a TV, right?'

There was a knock.

"Come in," Tim called, because Jason was gonna either way and this way he could pretend it was his call.

The door opened and Tim got his answer as to why he didn't have a nightmare.

Jason just hadn't slept. Tim opened his mouth to say "you look like shit." He stopped himself at the last moment and shut his mouth with a clack.

Jason eyed him like he knew what Tim had been thinking. He had his hood up again. It hid the ghoulish colors on his throat and most of his messy hair, but it couldn't do anything for the hollows under his eyes or the massive bruising on his face.

'It's the massive bruising on my face,' Tim corrected internally, working hard not to feel sympathetic to his intended murderer. He tried very hard not to wonder what would have happened with the colors on Jason's face if he had died. He had two theories that inspired different flavors of existential horror.

"Good morning." Jason took just a step into the room. The part of Tim that was always waiting for the next fight noted that his balance was off. He swayed too much. "Breakfast first or bathroom?"

"Bathroom," Tim said, "but could I get a crutch? Eventually?"

Jason nodded without comment. "You can use it by tomorrow, maybe." He stepped to Tim's side as meekly as possible. It still sent his heartrate up.

'I hate this.' Tim gritted his teeth and pretended to be unaffected as Jason helped him sit up. 'I'm so pathetic right now. I haven't even contacted anyone yet. The Tower is trashed… People are probably wondering what happened.'

The bathroom experience was better not thought about too much. It's hard to have your dick out in front of another human being who you need to keep you from falling over. It was a new low, which really said something considering the hysterical depths Tim was familiar with.

Tim tried to mentally be anywhere but at the sink with Jason pressed up against him from behind, holding him up with one arm looped around his chest and using the other to carefully soap up his hands. His breathing was harsh enough to hear over the running water. Tim tried not to notice the weirdly nice sensation of fingers carefully massaging his hands. He was close enough that when he breathed in he was hyper aware that Jason saved way too much money on his body soap. His nose crinkled.

In the mirror, he saw Jason glance from his hands to his face and then back just as quickly.

Unfortunately, that brought Tim's attention to the thing he'd been trying the most to avoid: confronting his own reflection.

The bruises looked even worse on him than they did on Jason. Tim stopped breathing for a moment and swallowed hard.

He wouldn't have recognized himself if he saw a picture of this. He looked pathetic. The fact that Jason's t-shirt hung off his shoulder didn't help matters. He looked like an absolute urchin.

'When Bruce sees this, it's gonna speed the transition back to the real Robin. He'd never want me in the field after seeing this.'

It- Robin wasn't his, not if Jason was here, but it still hurt.

"Let's go," Tim barked. He knocked his shoulder back against Jason's chest and ignored the confusing combination of stimuli. His shuddering hindbrain liked the weight of Jason's muscles behind him. It didn't know that strength was the reason for the pain in every inch of his body.

Jason turned off the tap without a word. He pulled open a drawer to yank out a soft towel, patted Tim's hands dry, and then steered him out.

"I want to leave the bedroom," Tim demanded before he could be put back in bed.

That got a moment's pause. "Sofa's fine," Jason said, and then took him out of the bedroom.

The rest of the apartment was a small open plan. There was a two seat couch facing a mostly empty bookshelf, a partially open closet with a black gym bag visible inside, and a bizarrely well-stocked kitchen.

He didn't expect much. But this was still disappointing.

"You have a cookie jar and a stand mixer but you don't have a TV?" Tim complained. His hero worship for his Robin took a critical hit.

Jason deposited him on the sofa without complaint and pulled out a leg rest. "Any more interior decorating advice for my safehouse?"

"Paint it," Tim said instantly. "This room is white, too."

Jason rolled his eyes. "You're such a little shit," he muttered, and pulled a pillow out of a storage unit to prop behind Tim.

"You slept out here?" Tim said, incredulous and forgetting that he was pretty sure Jason had stayed up all night. "No way you fit."

Jason flinched.

Tim blinked. He deliberately didn't narrow his eyes or otherwise react. That comment had hurt Jason. Why?

"I curled up like a pill bug," Jason snarked. "Let my knees hang off. That ok with you?"

He wanted to snark back but he refrained. If he hurt Jason, he wanted it to be on purpose. Accidental damage wasn't his style. "Sorry," Tim said, looking away to disengage. God, Jason looked fucked up. "You said breakfast was next?"

"Even though it's nearly noon." Jason seemed happier to kvetch as he moved into his kitchen space. "Think you can handle scrambled eggs?"

"You have cheddar cheese for them?" Tim asked, hopeful.

Jason nodded. "And vegetables."

Tim sighed.

"Alfred must have a ball with you," Jason muttered to himself. "Pick at least two: white mushrooms, onion, scallions, bell peppers."

Tim picked out onion and bell peppers and tried to get comfortable while Jason scrambled eggs. He fidgeted, looking at his own knees. They weren't engaging enough to keep him from looking over at the back of Jason's head.

He was just so… big. Tim curled his toes in his socks and frowned.

'He wasn't like that before. He was one of the smaller guys in his year. Now he's bigger than Dick.' Tim frowned at him. 'Way bigger than Dick. He's stupid buff.' he shifted uncomfortably. 'I feel like a shrimp.'

Jason ducked his head down further, like he knew he was being glared at. Tim hastily redirected his attention to the tabletop. It was wood, like Tim had guessed from the sound of Jason putting down a mug. He craned his neck to look inside the mostly-empty mug, idly curious about what Jason had been drinking. It was dark- "Coffee?" Tim asked hopefully.

The sounds of chopping stopped and then picked back up at a furious pace. "Jesus Christ," Jason muttered. A few seconds later, the sounds of vegetable mauling stopped. Plastic crinkled.

Tim lifted his head like a dog. He couldn't see what Jason had gotten down from the cupboard, but he could smell coffee beans.

"Unbelievable," Jason muttered, shaking the bag. There was a click and then the whirring of a coffee grinder started up.

Tim could have cried. "I get coffee?" He demanded, over the sounds of beans grinding.

Jason swung around to give him a disbelieving look. He shook his head. "Yes." He rolled the bag back up and put it back in the cupboard. Tim absently marked where exactly coffee beans lived in the kitchen. He definitely couldn't reach that and he wasn't exactly in optimal condition to be climbing on counters, but surely he'd manage.

"No," Jason said sharply, wheeling around to point the onion in his hand at Tim. "No, you will not climb on my counters."

Tim eyed him levelly. He didn't say anything. He tried to look like a person who wouldn't dig around in a murderer's cupboards to steal coffee.

"You're a biohazard," Jason said. He narrowed his eyes.

Tim pursed his lips. "...Not as long as you did a good job bandaging me up."

Jason closed his eyes. He very audibly counted to ten in Spanish, then Korean.

Tim rolled his eyes and leaned his head back to ignore Jason by looking for shapes in the shitty popcorn ceiling. He ignored Jason that way so well that he actually dozed off. He woke up to the soft clink of a plate being sat down in front of him.

There was a huff.

He didn't really register it. Tim smacked his lips and opened his eyes slowly. It took a moment to remember where he was.

Jason was back in the kitchen, facing away. He leaned forward to grab something from the back of the counter. The motion pulled his sweatpants flat against his stupidly juicy butt. That was not a standard Robin butt.

In his sleepy haze, Tim had to be forgiven for checking his soulmate assailant out. He froze as soon as he realized what he'd done.

'That's normal,' he tried to convince himself. 'It's nature. It would be weirder if I wasn't into him at all.' His heart thudded in his chest. 'He's never going to hurt me again. He knows who I am now. And honestly I think he needs help. His life has obviously been really bad.'

Oblivious, Jason bustled over brandishing a napkin and a glass of iced water. "Food with water, and then the coffee. Do you want sugar or … well, there's no cream."

"Black coffee, thank you," Tim said primly, and gingerly started to eat with his non-dominant hand. He wasn't particularly dextrous. A bit of egg fell off his fork and bounced down off the sofa.

Wow. He was really doing all his training proud.

"Don't worry about it."

Tim glanced down at the mess. He tensed his jaw. He didn't say anything. When he was almost done with his food, Jason went off to the kitchen to pour the coffee. He set it down in front of Tim just as Tim put the fork down.

Tim snatched up the cup of coffee and cradled it like it was holy. He breathed in the steam. The first sip was heaven. He drank way too much on the second go. He felt a spark of fear that Jason would limit him to one cup. He needed another one. He knew that it was in his head but he felt better already, like his thoughts were clearer and he was more awake.

"We need to talk." Jason fiddled with his empty mug.

'Oh no, are you breaking up with me?' Tim mentally snarked. He wasn't quite bold enough to say it out loud. He shot Jason a suspicious glance over the rim of his cup.

Jason didn't look up. "Have you thought about where to go? I- I don't want you going back to Batman." The words came out strained. "I don't trust him, there isn't-"

"Where to go?" Tim echoed, not thinking about the batman comment at all. "I'm staying here, aren't I?"

That finally got his full attention. "You can't stay here forever," Jason said blankly.

Tim frowned at him. "Are you putting me out on the street injured?"

A muscle twitched visibly on his neck. He looked away. "That's the problem, isn't it?" Jason managed a level tone. "You can't possibly feel safe here."

Tim blinked.

Jason furrowed his brow. He appeared to be done talking.

"I don't think it'll be better anywhere else," Tim pointed out delicately. "And it's not like we have many places in common. Where else are we going to spend time together?"

Jason choked on nothing. "Spend time-" He knocked his knee into the table. "What are you talking about?"

Tim realized, in one mortifying moment, that Jason didn't care that they had a soulmate bond. At least, he didn't think it was reason enough to stick around.

Tim bit his lip. "Are… I see." He cleared his throat. "You don't want to?" He channeled Janet Drake and made his tone brisk and businesslike.

Horribly, the expression on the other boy's face turned to a kind of gentle pity. Jason looked him over. "Timothy," he said slowly, "I broke three of your ribs, your leg, and your face. No one is going to recommend that we try to make some kind of relationship."

"That's not your opinion, though," Tim pushed, desperate. "Do you want to never see me again?"

He didn't get an answer. Jason looked totally lost and incongruously young. Tim's heart twisted with sympathy. He wanted to reach out and touch. Just for Jason's sake, of course, not his. He curled his unhurt hand into a fist to keep it from moving.

'He's not that much older than me. He- he was less than 3 years older, and then he lost half a year, and I don't think he's exactly had normal development since then. The things I've seen in his dreams are depressing. '

Tim tried to keep the gentleness he felt off his face. But he was mentally reclassifying Jason as a lot closer to 15 than 18.

"Give me a phone," Tim bargained. "If you don't want me to call Bruce, then let's talk to Dick. He knows me and he knows you."

Jason cursed under his breath and grabbed at his hair with a fist. He didn't seem to notice that he'd knocked his hood down. "They're going to put me in jail," he said flatly. "You know that, right? And I'm not going to let them. So that's going to be ugly."

"Dick thought that Bruce's stance on the Red Hood was too inflexible." Tim had already thought this through. "At worst, we go to Bludhaven until Bruce cools down and you can be Robin again."

The look that garnered him implied Jason thought he'd lost his damn mind.

Tim waited patiently.

"There's a lot to unpack there!" Jason's eyes were wide and his tone went a little high. He didn't seem to notice he started pacing. "First off, I'm not going to be Robin again. You get that, right? That was my whole beef with Bruce? No more Robins. Not that I'm a good child soldier anymore." He made a sweeping gesture at his body. "But also- they're not going to be pissed at me because I shot some mobsters," he stressed. "They're going to smack me down hard to keep you safe."

Tim furrowed his brow. "It's not that bad. You're not going to do it again. Anyway, we don't have to tell them everything."

The certainty in his voice took Jason's breath away. Tim pretended not to notice the controlled breathing he had to do. "Timothy," Jason said carefully. "They saw me hunt you down. Kick you. Slash your throat." His voice broke. "They're not going to want me back. And you deserve better than that. They'll agree."

Tim shot to a sitting position and ignored what that did to his protesting ribs. "They can't!" He disagreed. "You belong there, Jason. And-" he stopped mid phrase. "...You disabled all the security but you left the cameras running?" The realization knocked the breath out of his lungs.

That hadn't been just a sadistic assault. It had been a performance, and it hadn't been for Tim's benefit.

'What happened at the tower wasn't really about me.' There was something really depressing about that, but there was also relief. 'He wanted Bruce to suffer. Not me.'

Jason couldn't even look at him. "I wasn't in my right mind," he said. "But we can't know- Tim, I'm not a safe person. Not in general, and not for yo-"

"We definitely have to keep you away from Bruce for a while," Tim thought aloud. "That's - difficult, but okay." He ruffled his hair unconsciously. "The answer is still Dick."

"Why are you so fixated on Dickhead?" Jason buried his face in his hands.

Tim paused. "He's your brother. He loves you. He misses you so much. He'll help us."

"He's more your brother, I think." The words were muffled.

Tim snorted. "No, I'm not family," he denied. "I'm a neighbor, that's all."

Jason lifted his face just enough to side-eye. He gave Tim a weird look.

He shrugged. It was true.

He could see the moment that Jason gave up. "Whatever. We can come back to it, I gyess. I'm going out. I'll get your crutches, at least. Some groceries."

Tim nodded.

Jason edged past the sofa without getting too close. Tim wasn't sure he was doing it on purpose. "I'm gonna take a shower. If you think of something you need, let me know before I go."

Tim watched him go. "Don't you think Bruce is going to be looking for you out there?" He only had curiosity in his voice. "Since they don't know what you did with me. They're probably wondering."

"Wondering," Jason repeated, incredulous. He slammed the door shut.

It wasn't a very substantive answer to Tim's reasonable concern.

"Rude." Tim settled back into the sofa. He felt better now that he had some caffeine and fuel. He itched to move, but even he had to acknowledge that the less he stressed his injuries, the sooner he'd be back on his feet.

"I really need something to do," he said to himself. "I can't just trigger panic attacks to pass the time."

Shower water started in the next room.

"I need body wash, too," Tim thought aloud. He sniffed his underarm and grimaced. "I'd use his drugstore shit at this point."

Well. He wasn't in good condition, no. But if Jason was going to be gone for hours, surely Tim could manage to clean himself up. It would be a good project.

"He keeps dodging the topic when I mention technology. At the very least he needs to get me something to write with so I don't lose my mind." Tim sighed. "I don't know if I'm hoping Dick will find him when he goes out or not," he lamented. "I don't think either one of them is going to be- calm or logical about things." He huffed, blowing his bangs off of his face.

He had a pretty good list of demands by the time Jason came back, toweling off his hair. Tim glanced over the new outfit just because it was there and not because he had an opinion about what Jason looked like in a tight t-shirt and jeans versus in oversized sweats.

'I think that's the size of my head.'

He unconsciously put a hand to his head, looking at the bicep that wasn't a mottled mess of Tim's bruises. A muscle flexed as Jason scrubbed at his hair.

"That's so bad for your hair," Tim said, and instantly regretted opening his mouth.

Jason only snorted and tossed the towel in a laundry basket just inside the bedroom door. "Only one of us can have nice hair, I guess."

Tim didn't say, 'You could switch to a better conditioner.' But it was a close thing. "Can I get a pot of coffee before you go?" He asked instead. "Just leave it on the table." Before Jason could finish opening his mouth, "Come on, I think you owe me this one," Tim wheedled.

The look he got back was sheer incredulity. "That's what you're wasting that on?" Jason clarified. "I kicked you around like a soccer ball and you're using the incurred guilt for a single pot of coffee?"

Wow, okay, that was not true. Tim hadn't done well but he'd done better than a soccer ball. He'd gotten hits in, even, at the beginning.

Grandiose liar or not, Jason was moving to the kitchen even as he said it, so Tim didn't give a damn. "I think I get more than one use," he said happily. He watched Jason open up an overhead cupboard and fish out the glass coffee pot. He'd already washed and put it away? "My next demand is two notebooks and writing utensils, at least three colors."

"Done," Jason agreed easily. "You like pizza alright?"

"Pizza is good. Can you get textbooks from my room?"

"I think Bruce will notice if I go into the manor for your homework."

"I don't live there," Tim said, puzzled. "I meant my house."

Jason turned to blink at him, bag of coffee beans hanging from one hand. "That's not deserted?" He frowned slightly. "Your parents are in Nicaragua."

Tim rolled his eyes. "What's that have to do with my homework?"

Jason sighed and turned back to the coffee. "I'm not going there," he said, tone final. "It's too close to B."

"Boo, you whore." Tim continued while Jason spluttered and dropped something that clattered. "Okay, can you go to the bookstore for me?"

He had to wait a few impatient seconds for Jason to answer, "I guess?" He sounded confused that this was where his life was.

"Good." Tim settled further into the couch. "I'll write titles if you get me something to write with."

Jason tossed his phone over. "Make it in a note."

Tim tried and failed to catch it. It landed on his legs. "Thanks." He eyed the back of Jason's head, wondering if the older boy had lost his mind. Why give Tim a phone if he didn't want to contact Dick? Tim should just dial him up now.

He opened up the notes app and typed up his demands quickly. He stole a glance to check that Jason was still preoccupied. Then he opened up contacts and added Dick's new number under "Biggest Bird". Then he paused and looked at Jason's back. Jason was the biggest one now, huh.

He didn't change it. Dick deserved to be the big bird. He hesitated for a moment, guilty, before typing up "Hey Dick, I lived. 👍 Pretty sure I'm in Gotham now. Don't reply pls, it'll be pretty uncomfortable for me. Will contact when I can. -Tim."

He sent the message and deleted the record instantly. He exited all windows except the note app before he put the phone on the table.

"Reading for fun?" Jason asked. He was totally oblivious as to what Tim had just done.

Tim scoffed, heart racing with guilt he really shouldn't feel. "More like keeping up. There's a new book on systems tech that I need, and a journal from the National Microbiology-"

"I'm sorry I asked," Jason snarked, because he was a bitch too. But he was smiling when he opened up the coffee grinder and tipped the powder into a pour over cup. "Nerd."

Tim rolled his eyes. He tried to be subtle about keeping an eye on Jason's phone.

He had a trickle of doubt that he tried to press down.

Dick wouldn't message, right? Of course he'd be tempted to. He was Dick. Tim wondered if he should have told him that it was Jason. It didn't seem like information for a text message.

The phone didn't light up with any alerts. Jason brought over a whole pot of coffee and a plate of grapes that he seemed a little embarrassed to mention was past their optimal date.

Tim, a garbage-eating raccoon person who had subsisted on microwavable meals for more than a week at a time and would do it again, shrugged.

Jason pulled on a leather jacket, tucked guns and other equipment onto his body, and went out the door.

A few minutes later he had a thought that hit him like Jason's boot to the face. Tim fumbled a grape in his shock and let it roll off under the table.

'...Is Dick going to ask Barbara to find the phone I messaged from?'

"Whoops," Tim said, voice hoarse. "...Maybe they won't talk much?"

Chapter 4

It was a long, tense night. Jason put a pillow on the sofa and wondered why he even bothered. He made himself a cup of chamomile tea and then accidentally let it get cold staring at the sleeping lump on his bed, feeling like an absolute freak but needing to know that Timothy was still breathing.

He drank the cold tea. He put the pillow back away. He splashed his face with water from the kitchen sink. He killed some time doing equipment maintenance as quietly as possible. A dog barked outside and he held his breath, paranoid that it would wake his soulmate up.

It didn't. Timothy was fine.

Well. He wasn't fine. But he wasn't any worse.

Jason paced a line between the table and the kitchen counter until he was too irritated to keep going. He checked the time: not even 2 am yet.

"It's going to be a long fuckin night," he said to himself. Then he held his breath and looked at the cracked bedroom door, as if he might be able to hear Timothy's breathing.

He couldn't.

"Of course I don't. I'm too far away." He sat down. He jiggled his leg up and down, trying to think of anything else. Think about his work, his passion project to control organized crime and save lives. Don't think about Bruce and his revenge. Don't think about being sick with anger and lonely grief. Don't think about what he'd done to a teenager half his size-

Jason gave up and crept into the room again to be sure that Timothy was still breathing.

He was.

Jason did silent calisthenics, situps and pushups, and he held a plank until his body shuddered.

What had Timothy been seeing in his dreams for years? He must have been terrified when he realized the violent beast from his dreams was the man beating him down.

He took a moment to imagine that, imagine being in Timothy's shoes. He must have realized it there in the Tower. Which injuries had it been? Had he seen his broken fingers on Jason first? Was it a ghost bruise blooming over Jason's face as Jason loomed over him? Kicked him?

Jason collapsed to the floor and rolled over to his back. He clutched at his hair with one hand, a nervous tic he'd never managed to get rid of.

He went back to obsessively trying to remember dreams that he usually wanted to forget. What nightmares had he had?

Nanda Parbat would fuck anyone up. The things that Jason had been doing for years- some kid had been seeing that? Had seen all that violence?

'Makes me feel like Talia.'

Jason full-body shuddered, confused. Morals he had never recontextualized were creeping up to the surface. As a kid he'd been extremely protective of other children. That had been the best part of being Robin.

And now he was an adult. He was a grown man and he'd been sending visions of fuckin- of shooting men in the face and of stabbing people and watching the light die from their eyes, of all the blood in the sand and the shit and tears of death and he'd been doing that to some kid-

He had to stand up. He poured himself a glass of water just to have something to do, and that meant half an hour later he guiltily crept through the bedroom again to get to the bathroom.

He wanted a shower. He felt disgusting. Water wouldn't fix the shame but it would get the itch of dried sweat off of his skin.

It'd wake up the kid.

'I need to stock something in these places for entertainment.'

His phone was dying. He fished out the charger and played a word game for a full hour, trying to use the white glare and puzzles to keep him awake and too busy to think about how thoroughly he'd fucked over his soulmate. That kid was never going to be normal, never going to be safe. Jason did that to him.

It felt like morning was never going to come. He made himself breakfast at a decent hour and then waited. And waited.

Christ, Drake could sleep.

'Or maybe he needs to recover because someone smashed him into the floorboards. Just a thought.'

He was staring dully into a mostly empty cup of tea when he finally heard a sleepy voice from the bedroom. Jason put it down a little too fast and hurried to the door. He paused, hand on the knob.

'Don't be a creep. He's going to have another panic attack if you go in there like it's a goddamn drug bust.'

He knocked.

"Come in."

Jason pushed open the door and took a hesitant step inside. It was his room but he felt like an intruder.

Timothy was mostly propped up in bed. His eyes widened when he saw Jason and his mouth dropped open. He looked like he was looking at something dirty

Jason braced for it.

Timothy closed his mouth.

Jason's mouth was almost too dry to speak despite having just finished a drink. "Good morning," he managed. He was surprised by how level his voice was. God, he felt like shit. "Breakfast first or bathroom?"

"Bathroom," Tim said, "but could I get a crutch? Eventually?"

Jason nodded without comment. "You can use it by tomorrow, maybe." He stepped to Tim's side as meekly as possible. He wished he didn't see that the boy got paler.

Timothy had a pretty good poker face, but Jason had to touch to help him up. He could feel that heart racing like a rabbit's.

'I'm disgusting. I made this child afraid of me.'

He kept his body language as unthreatening as possible and his grip gentle as he helped Timothy through his morning needs.

It was hard to stand in front of the mirror. Jason stole a glance at their reflection, gut twisting with self loathing. The difference between them was more obvious from an outside perspective. Tim was a good 6 inches shorter, obviously still lean with youth rather than packing on the muscle he might manage as an adult.

Just a kid. He'd never had a chance against Jason.

Tim was obviously overwhelmed by frustration at his helplessness. Jason could feel him shaking. He pretended not to see how red Timothy's eyes were.

And then Timothy leaned back, digging his shoulder into Jason's stomach. He- he sort of melted.

Jason's mind raced. His hands moved on autopilot, gently cleaning Tim's hands. It felt like- no, he couldn't possibly have been seeking comfort from Jason. Could he?

'You never know with a soulmate bond. Lots of people stay in fucked up soulmate relationships. It might- shit, what if it's fucking with him? Making him look at me to feel safe?'

He felt like throwing up.

He glanced up at just the right time to see Timothy's face go even whiter. Jason's nerves frayed even further. He braced for another panic attack-

Timothy jabbed him with his shoulder. "Let's go."

That was fine by him.

Jason turned off the tap without a word. He pulled open a drawer to yank out a soft towel, patted Tim's hands dry, and then steered him out. He was looking forward to retreating when Timothy spoke out.

"I want to leave the bedroom," Tim demanded.

Jason paused.

'I wouldn't want to be helpless in someone else's bed either. He'll probably feel safer if he can at least sit up.'

He wished he hadn't been so cheap with the bed. If it had a headboard Timothy could have sat up there. "Sofa's fine," Jason said, and then took him out of the bedroom.

Making Timothy breakfast felt blessedly normal. Jason leaned into it, playing up irritation at how picky the kid was and playfully judging him for deploying the big cow eyes for coffee.

'Are you even supposed to drink coffee when you're that young?'

He didn't know, but he made a cup anyway.

When he finished cooking he found that Tim had dozed off again. Jason felt frozen at the sight.

'How? How does he feel safe enough to fall asleep with me right here?'

Conversely, Timothy's casual attitude made Jason's stress ratchet further up. That reached new levels when he actually talked with the little fucker.

'This is bad. This is so fucking bad. He doesn't get it. He wants to stay with me?'

The shower was a retreat. Jason wasn't too proud to admit that to himself. He pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of the bare bones supply in the closet to armor up before going back near his… well, god, he might technically be a prisoner? Patient sounded better.

He scrubbed the emotion off his face when he came back into the room. He was still drying his hair. Timothy craned his head over the back of the sofa to watch him.

Wait.

Jason lifted his arm a little higher and tracked the way Timothy's pupils followed the movement.

'He's staring at my arms?' Jason wondered. 'Making sure I don't attack him?'

God, he wished that was the case. It would have been much better for his nerves if Drake had that sense. But Jason suspected that the teenager was more innocently fascinated with a muscular arm.

Christ. He blundered his way through a conversation and just did whatever he needed to do to make Timothy happy. He made him a whole pot of coffee, health be damned, and promised to bring him the world. Books, notebook, whatever- he'd promise anything to get out of this interaction.

He was more relieved than he'd admit to put some space between him and his- Tim. Not his anything, just Timothy Drake.

Jason stuck his hands in his pockets aggressively and shouldered his way out onto the street.

Gotham at noon was a glaring nightmare. He ducked his head against the light and regretted leaving his sunglasses. No way was he going back in there now, not with the baleful little puppy dog huddled on his sofa waiting to judge him with those big sad eyes. God, the way he'd looked when he asked if Jason didn't want to be with him-

Jason shook off the cacophony of the confusing emotions that Tim inspired and focused on his task. He'd get the books and paper supplies first, they were furthest, then pick up the crutches from a different safehouse - no, maybe the groceries and then the crutches. The mobility aids would be unwieldy in a grocery store.

He ended up buying an overpriced backpack at the student wear shop next to the bookstore. Timothy's purchases went in the bottom. He didn't spend much time flipping through them with a furrow in his brow, feeling inadequate and undereducated. He was officially a middle school dropout and a high school dropout now. That couldn't be attractive.

Jason berated himself for the thought as soon as he recognized it. It didn't matter if Timothy would be attracted to him or not, it would be beyond fucked up to get involved regardless.

He wasn't as clueless about that as Timothy seemed to think. The thought of stolen glances and the way Tim unconsciously leaned against him at the sink had something twisting painfully in Jason's chest. It made him feel human, reliable, needed and wanted.

Timothy was cute. When Jason looked at him he wanted to keep him safe and that was all kinds of fucked up, wasn't it, when he was the biggest threat the boy had ever faced?

#jason todd/tim drake #red hood #ao3 is still down so why not #shadow bruises #soulmate fic #ao3

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gale-gentlepenguin · 2 years

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 39

The penultimate chapter is here!

And just before the end of the new year.

There were some hiccups, technical difficulties and other things that delayed this part more than I anticipated.

Shout out to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for having such incredible patience with me.

Check her writing out on AO3 as Ramblingwren

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3) (Currently up to date)

If you do like the story, Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

But before all that.

Thank you.

This story has been going on for over 2 years now and yet so many of you have been sticking by and reading it. Seeing all of the comments, fan art, and tags has really made making this Fic worth it. Its also the reason that I want to make sure this ending pays off and delivers the joy to all of you that your support and kindness has given me. So be aware that the next update will be the big finale.

Alright enough Camembert,

Enjoy the dish in front of you.

_____________________________________________________________________

Fu started to stumble but quickly caught himself.

“Master, are you alright?”

Fu held up his hand.

“I am fine, Wayzz. It was nothing more than a dark shiver in my spine that threw me off balance. I just need to not let myself get rattled,” Fu assured

The turtle Kwami did not like the sound of that one bit.

“I don’t think we should be out in the open like this. Even if you can transform,” Wayzz insisted.

Fu’s expression turned stern.

“Sadly, I don’t believe that is an option anymore. Right now, we are in the thick of it. So until we meet up with Ladybug and Chat Noir, we must push forward”

Wayzz sighed.

“I understand the situation is dire, and communication with Ladybug is next to impossible, but you can't forget that you are the guardian. If something happens to you…”

The old man saw the worry on his small companion’s face. He took the kwami into his hand.

“I know you are concerned, but the reason I can be so sure is because I have you as my partner,” Fu said reassuringly.

Wayzz smiled at the comment.

“Very well, Master, then let us proceed on…”

Fu paused as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind him.

“Seems we have company.”

“Master, remember you said you only had 10 minutes while transformed.”

“Not to worry Wayzz, I won't need to transform.”

The elderly man prepared himself with a calming breath.

He turned to the direction of the sound, where he saw what appeared to be an owl themed akuma, armed with multiple gadgets approaching.

Fu started to stretch his arms and legs, preparing for the threat as it rushed towards him.

“It has been well over 50 years since I've used this in a fight. Lets see how my Mirakung Fu holds up.”

The owl akuma went to his belt and grabbed an owl shaped projectile. Throwing several of the razor sharp weapons.

Fu dodged the first two with side steps and rolled underneath the 3rd with a somersault.

“I believe Marinette mentioned this akuma, the one with gadgets and traps that nearly bested them. Dark Owl,” Fu commented.

Dark Owl didn’t say a word, and the white theater mask over his face hid any expression he might have had. The akuma, noticing that Fu was now in close range, decided to go for fisticuffs.

“You know, I think I read the comic you were based off of,” Fu continued as he effortlessly blocked the punches of the much larger foe.

Though he wasn’t sure how he would take down this opponent without focus. He needed to remember his training

Fu closed his eyes and he could picture his strict mentor. He could see those piercing eyes and forked eyebrows that were always in a scowl. He'd always wondered if that man had ever smiled once in his life.

“Mirakung fu is about overpowering your foe, taking their momentum, their strength, and using it as your own,” the old master stated as clearly as Fu remembered from that day.

Fu could hear the words of the celestial guardian echo in his mind. He waited for his foe to try another sloppy attack.

“You must flow like a river.” Fu took hold of Dark Owl’s arm and turned his back to the akuma.

“Be sturdy like the mountain,” Fu grounded his feet with a broad stance.

"Be swift as the wind, and powerful as a lightning strike.” Quickly as he could, Fu tucked his shoulders and flipped the akuma onto its back with a powerful thud.

“Then be as deadly as the night.” Fu took advantage of the akuma's prone position and executed a series of precise strikes against its pressure points. When he was done, the akuma was paralyzed.

Fu watched closely for a moment to ensure that he had properly neutralized the threat. Once he was certain, he got off of the akuma and bowed.

“We may not have seen eye-to-eye, but your training was very useful. Thank you, Master Su Han.”

Now that he was finished, Fu let out a sigh of relief.

“It is good to know that this fighting style is as good against akuma as it is against other miraculous wielders,” he commented as he tried to recuperate from the strenuous activity. Though he was in great shape for a 189 year old man, he still needed to catch his breath.

“Well executed, Master,” Wayzz praised. “That should keep this akuma from bothering us again.”

Fu nodded.

“Thank you, Unfortunately, We don’t have enough time to ensure that this is a permanent fix. We must hurry and find the heroes.”

Wayzz nodded and the two began heading down the hallway with a quickened pace.

______________________________________________________________________________

Mayura powered through her pain and dashed towards the door, but stopped when she realized the monstrous Horrificator was blocking her path, ensuring that there was no way to get past her.

The Reflekta servants moved in to attack her from behind, but the peacock villainess was not going to let herself go down easily.

She knocked them down with a swift sweeping kick at their legs.

The door is not an option. Looks like I'm going to have to go out the window.

Mayura started for the nearest window only to stop just short of a large purple cloud.

The original Reflekta and Princess Fragrance were standing side by side. Their white masks obscured their faces, but Mayura could tell they seemed smug.

“Cute.” Mayura opened her fan and used all of her strength to send the perfume onto the original Reflekta.

Using that as a distraction she moved forward to Princess Fragrance and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick, knocking her into the perfume cloud and into the confused Reflekta.

Mayura didn’t waste any time moving past them, but found her way blocked by an annoying red robot.

“Out of the way!” Mayura exclaimed as she jumped on top of him to get through the window, only to notice that Simularé had been waiting for her. Disguised as Lady Wifi, the sentimonster flung a pause symbol right where she was heading.

Mayura had hardly any time to react. Without missing a beat, she managed to swing her arm with enough force to change her course and dodge the projectile pause button, but ended up colliding with the wall, missing the window.

“Well that was amusing,” Simularé chuckled. “But you're not going to escape me. So just be calm and hand over the miraculous. There is no need to make this more difficult than it has to be.”

Mayura’s vision was blurry from both her illness acting up and her nasty face plant against the wall, but she could hear Simularé’s not so subtle threat. She knew she wasn't going to be able to keep this up. She needed to think.

Simularé readied another pause to fling at Mayura as she watched the blue villainess use the wall to stand up.

“You really think you can use the miraculous?” Mayura challenged.

The akuma started to move to surround her but Simularé raised her hand, silently commanding them to wait.

“What do you mean?”

“You know nothing about it. You don’t even know how to activate it, let alone use it for yourself. A sentimonster could never hope to utilize the miraculous.”

Simularé pondered that for a moment.

Mayura knew that the shapeshifter’s knowledge was on par with Lila’s, and Lila didn’t know much about the miraculous. She only knew as much as a standard viewer of the Ladyblog. They didn’t know about Kwami, or activation phrases. They didn’t know anything other than the fact that the miraculous Mayura was in possession of was responsible for their existence and that their existence could be taken away with a snap once the amok was within range. Mayura was counting on this. Though in truth, she had no idea if a sentimonster could use a miraculous, she knew that this would be enough to put doubts in the sentimonster’s mind.

“I admit it, I don’t know anything about the magical jewelry. My knowledge is lacking.” Simularé looked down, as if ashamed of their lack of expertise. “You are clearly the expert in the room.”

Mayura felt confident, her head was starting to clear up. She just needed a chance to escape.

“Well, I am glad we can agree on that,” Mayura said, now able to steady herself.

“But that’s why you are going to tell me everything that you know.” Simularé raised her head, staring at her with a malicious grin.

Mayura suddenly noticed that the foes she'd knocked down had recovered and were staring at her.

Mayura tried to take a step back but realized her back was both figuratively and literally up against a wall.

“Now, why don’t we make her one of us. Princess Fragrance? If you would be so kind?”

The perfume akuma moved forward, pointing its gun right at Mayura.

Mayura saw the akuma pull the trigger and jumped up with her super agility, just narrowly avoiding the perfume cloud. At her maximum height, she pushed her feet against the wall to kick off over the perfume cloud and her foes.

She managed to surprise the drone-minded akuma, but as she thought she had finally gotten free… she realized she was heading straight for another perfume cloud!

“What, but how did…” Mayura exclaimed in shock.

Mayura caught a glimpse from the bottom of her eye, and saw Simularé had shifted forms and transformed into Princess Fragrance. She had been played. Was there anything she could do?

Mayura went through the perfume cloud and landed in the center of the room. All the akuma faced her, waiting to see her reaction. She had looked at the ground for a moment, as if frozen. But then she looked up and turned to face Simularé.

“How can I serve you?” Mayura sing-songed, her eyes indicating that she was in a hypnotic trance.

Simularé shifted back to look like Masquerade. Now with a sinister grin.

“Tell me everything you know about the miraculous.”

________________________________________________________________

“Are you sure this plan will work?” Queen Bee inquired.

“When have my plans ever not worked?” Ladybug asked with confidence.

The blonde bee had to concede on that. Ladybug’s plans did always work out.

“If you two could start on that plan I would FUR REAL appreciate it.” Chat Noir called, trying to hide that he was starting to get overwhelmed by the stone golem's attacks.

The other two nodded at one another and went to put their plan into action.

Ladybug used her yo-yo to pick up a discarded backpack. She emptied the bag of its contents and looked to the bee heroine, who had grabbed the fire extinguisher from the case.

Chat Noir realized he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer and backed away from Stoneheart's boulder-like fists.

“Chat Noir, grab that rubber band and pass it to Queen Bee.” Ladybug called as she moved carefully out of view of the akuma.

Chat Noir looked and saw a rubber band on the floor. He swiftly dove and snagged it, then used his fingers to launch it right at the bee heroine.

Queen Bee caught the rubber band out of the air. She had already tied her weapon to the fire extinguisher. She then pulled the pin and used the rubber band to hold down the release lever. Now active, she swung out her contraption right at the akuma, using the release as momentum to increase the striking force of the extinguisher. The quick-moving projectile caused the akuma to stop attacking and block the canister with his hands. The force of the impact caused the pressurized canister to explode, and thanks to the amount of pressure already released, it was enough to only affect the akuma, which now found itself covered in the white foam and dazed by the explosion.

Ladybug jumped on the akuma’s back and put the opened backpack over its head, zipping it as much as possible to make it difficult for the akuma to remove.

“Chat Noir, if you would please.” Ladybug asked with a smile. “Queen bee, his legs”

“With pleasure Bugaboo.”

Chat Noir charged with his staff and made a leaping strike at the akuma right as Queen bee used her weapon to tie his legs together.

Ladybug jumped from the akuma’s back right as Chat Noir made contact.

The large akuma couldn’t maintain his balance and fell back into the door it was guarding. Breaking it down along with a massive section of the wall and creating a massive dust cloud. And it seemed that the golem was down for the count.

“Strike!” Chat Noir exclaimed with joy,

Queen Bee and Ladybug moved to where Chat Noir was standing.

“Nice set-up, ladies.” Chat Noir congratulated.

“I'm sorry I ever doubted Ladybug. That was awesome.”

Ladybug smiled. “You both did great, but now we need to be ready for the final boss.”

They would need to be ready to face whatever was beyond this busted down door.

__________________________________________________________________________

It was dark and cramped in the place she had been taken to.

Ms. Rossi wasn’t entirely sure where she was. All she could say for sure is that she did not like it. She tried to move but quickly realized her legs were bound.

She had no idea how long she had been out and she had no idea what was going on outside of her little cramped area.

She tried to move her upper body but noticed that her arms were tied behind her back. Someone had tied her up and tossed her in this small cramped area. As she tried to focus on what happened, she felt her mind flash to what she last remembered.

She had been in utter disbelief. The school principal had been showing her all the misdeeds of her daughter. It just didn’t make any sense. There was no way Lila, her little Stellina, would be capable of such things. But, the evidence was right in front of her and it was undeniable. She could remember the pit in her stomach, how she'd wanted all of this to be some sort of sick joke or a nightmare that she could wake up from. The thought of her little angel being anything but a kind-hearted girl seemed impossible up until this rather horrific revelation.

The next thing she knew, her daughter had busted in and confessed it was all true, and then turned the principal into a super villain! It was such a shock, she tried to ask her daughter what was going on and the next thing she knew, everything went black.

Ms. Rossi paused for a moment and thought about it. She felt she had found the reasoning behind her innocent girl’s evil behavior.

‘You act like you actually knew me. You know how much I love masks, yet you failed to realize I was always wearing one around you.’

Her daughter’s words echoed in her mind. Was that really her? Were those her daughter’s true feelings? Had she been playing a role this entire time?

The doubts of what she understood about her own daughter flooded the diplomat's mind. She tried to think about all the times she had spoken with her, all the times they laughed, all the birthdays, all of the vacations, the little girl that was kind and caring was in there. What had happened to her?

“I need to get to her,” Ms. Rossi stated with conviction.

She began struggling with all her might. One way or another, she would get to her daughter. She may not understand what's going on, she may not know how this whole Akuma thing works, she may not even really know who her daughter is right now, but she was certain of one thing.

She finally managed to rotate her legs and hit the door in front of her.

“Mama is coming.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Ryuuko and Viperion stopped in their tracks as the sound of a wall coming down echoed in the halls.

Ryuuko smiled at the sound.

“Well, now we know for sure where the real fight is,” she said as she drew her weapon.

Viperion touched the ground.

“Hmmm… Based on the vibrations… We take a right at this hallway and it should lead us to a staircase that will bring us right to the sound.” Viperion explained.

Ryuuko blinked, caught off guard by his confidence.

“Guess you still have your unique connection with sound.”

Viperion looked at her with a bit of confusion.

“What was I like before I lost my memory?”

Viperion seemed genuinely curious, but the questions were starting to get personal, and Ryuuko was realizing that this boy had a tendency to throw her off her game. She didn’t want to leave him in the dark, though, especially after how he saved her from experiencing what he was currently going through.

“I'll tell you if we walk and talk.” Ryuuko proposed.

Viperion smiled at that.

“Deal.”

The two heroes began making their way down the halls again.

“To put it simply, we only became friends recently. We have met a few times, but we were both more focused on other people. I might not be able to paint you a complete picture of what you were like. I can only tell you my perception. So, go ahead and ask any questions”

“Okay, but why would I be focused on someone that isn’t you? I feel like you are someone that is impossible to get out of my head. The me with his memories probably would agree.”

Ryuuko did her best to conceal her blush.

“We… we haven't really gotten to know each other, and like I said. We were both focused on other people. For me, it was Adrien, for you it was Marinette,” Ryuuko continued. “But that went out the window as those two have grown a lot closer.”

Viperion processed what Ryuuko was telling him.

“Well, good for Marinette and Adrien. Sounds like they figured themselves out.”

“I guess it’s easier to say that when you don’t remember them.”

“Probably, but I don’t see how two people finding happiness should make anyone upset.”

“What about if you liked one of them?”

“Even more of a reason to be happy for them. If you like someone, you should be happy that they found someone special.”

“What if you wanted to be that someone special?” Ryuuko asked with more hurt than she realized. “What if you thought you found someone that understood you for who you are, someone that you could talk to about things that no one else could relate to, but now you see that they have someone more special to them, and now you have to accept that you lost.”

Ryuuko had realized she had never really let herself vent, and it was in that moment that she noticed why it had made her so sad. She'd treated losing Adrien like it was some sort of fight. She didn’t hate Marinette, she was friends with her. She and Marinette had just happened to fall for the same guy, it didn’t need to be some sort of duel for honor. But here she was treating Adrien more like a prize to be won than a person.

Viperion put a hand on her shoulder, causing them both to slow to a stop.

“Well, isn’t that kind of beautiful? You were able to find someone that made you feel so much that you felt sad about it.”

Ryuuko had to admit, as crazy as it sounded, that the snake hero made a very interesting point. Sure, it hurt, and she realized that maybe her approach towards it wasn’t the best, but it was nice while it lasted. She couldn’t really say it was a negative experience.

“And… just so you know, you are someone special. And the next guy you fall for will be really lucky,” Viperion added softly.

Ryuuko felt her face heat up at that comment.

“Now let’s keep going. We should be close to the commotion,” the snake hero said, changing the subject.

Viperion let go of Ryuuko’s shoulder and was ready to head forward, but she caught his hand in hers, holding him back.

“Wait. You wanted to know what you were like.”

“Yea but that can…”

“You are patient.”

Viperion stopped and listened to Ryuuko speak.

“You are constantly making music references when you explain things. You were always thinking about Marinette, and you never let things bother you for too long. You can be strategic but incredibly soft-hearted. You are too self-sacrificing for your own good, which led you into this mess.” Ryuuko’s voice shook with emotion. Viperion felt his heart beating faster as he listened.

“You… are someone I am glad that I started to get to know. And I am sorry I didn’t start sooner.”

Viperion wanted to say something but before he could, Ryuuko summoned her courage and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“That was a thank you… for the you with memories. Now let's go!”

Ryuuko sprinted off towards their initial goal internally questioning why she did that and leaving Viperion to touch his cheek.

“Oh… I may not remember her, but my heart does.”

He ran to catch up with his speedy partner.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Fascinating. So that is everything?” Simularé asked, sitting back on Masquerade's throne and utilizing their master’s form. They had just listened to Mayura tell her everything she knew about the miraculous.

“That is all I know.” Mayura sang. “Hawkmoth would be the only one to know more than I, except for the guardian.”

“And since you created me, you can’t make anymore sentimonsters.”

“That is correct.”

Simularé stroked its chin.

“So, then how can we utilize this…”

The door collapsed, cutting off whatever they'd been about to say.

Stoneheart fell in after it, almost hitting Horrificator who just barely managed to get out of the way.

A massive cloud of debris concealed the ones responsible.

“Who dares break down my door!?” Simularé roared, impersonating Masquerade perfectly. “Reflekta, Princess Fragrance! Handle it. Horrificator, guard me!”

Horrificator jumped back and moved in front of the throne. Reflekta and Princess Fragrance moved near the debris cloud with their guard up.

A yellow top whizzed out of the cloud and tied the two akuma together before pulling them through the doorway and out of sight.

“What the… Gamer! Robostus! Deal with that!”

The small robot and super-powered gamer were about to act but a metal staff shot out and nailed the robot right in the center of its mask, like a cue stick hitting a pool ball. It was sent flying into the wall, causing the poor akuma to glitch from the damages. Gamer tried to step back, but a yo-yo reached out and circled his legs before it pulled him into the debris cloud. He tried to resist but failed.

“What is going on!?” The Faux Masquerade screamed in frustration.

Just then the debris cloud cleared and revealed three heroes standing with her akuma servants tied up by Queen Bee’s weapon.

“All right, Masquerade, it’s time for the last dance!” Ladybug exclaimed as she stared right at the villain she believed to be Masquerade.

“A purrfect line as always Ladybug,” Chat Noir praised.

The Masquerading Sentimonster stood up from its throne.

“Oh, is it now? You handle a few of my servants, and you think that makes you ready to face me? Don’t make me laugh! You are nothing compared to me!”

Queen Bee rolled her eyes at the arrogant statement.

“Is that what she looks like? I would never be caught dead looking so tacky! Hawkmoth really went low-effort with your costume.”

Masquerade growled at that snide comment.

“Horrificator, stick her to a wall.”

The monster roared before shooting a blast of sticky slime at the Queen Bee.

Thankfully Ladybug thought fast and pushed the tied up akuma in front of the attack just as Queen Bee moved away, causing them to get slimed to the wall in her stead.

Queen Bee pulled back her weapon now that the akuma servants that she had been restraining now had another means of being held down.

“Horrificator, stop being useless and take them down!”

“I got this,” Ladybug stated with confidence. She walked in with one hand behind her back.

Horrificator charged at the three heroes like a rabid beast.

Ladybug moved forward, holding something behind her back, waiting for the akuma to approach. Just as it was about to strike, she revealed Princess Fragrance's perfume gun.

With a spray, the akuma stopped in its tracks.

“Go attack Masquerade,” Ladybug commanded.

The akuma stood frozen, like a statue.

Ladybug looked at the akuma, confused by its lack of movement.

“Well that’s strange,” Chat Noir commented as he poked the monstrous akuma with his staff.

Masquerade was even more perplexed.

“What is going on?!”

Ladybug pondered for a moment, trying to figure out this conundrum.

“Oh, I get it!”

“Oh? Do tell.” Masquerade said with annoyance.

“Your power takes control of people and makes them into akuma servants. Princess Fragrance's power takes control of people and forces them to follow orders. Since both were used on Horrificator, it caused her to freeze in place, as neither power could overpower the other. The conflicting orders cancel each other out,” Ladybug explained.

Queen Bee was still trying to wrap her mind around that. “Wait what the heck does that even mean?”

Chat Noir pondered for a second. How could he explain this to Chloé?

“It's like wearing a gold dress with orange accessories,” Chat Noir tried to explain.

“Oh gross, that clashes so bad that it doesn’t work!”

“That is kind of correct.” Ladybug stated confused.

Chat Noir delicately moved Horrificator to the side as the team looked towards Mayura and Masquerade.

“You are out of servants. Now its just us against you two.” Ladybug stated with confidence. “This is your last chance Lila. Surrender your akuma or we will take you down.

“Is that right?”

Ladybug was about to approach when Chat Noir suddenly yanked her to the side.

“Chaton what are you…”

Ladybug realized she had almost been turned into energy, as Timebreaker had dashed past them, barely missing her.

“Timebreaker?”

The skating akuma turned around and ended up in front of the heroes, standing in between them and the villains.

Moments later, an artist akuma with a jetpack flew through the front entrance, landing right next to Timebreaker.

“Evillstrator,” Chat Noir growled with a fierce gaze. He still remembered how tough this akuma had been.

“Evillustrator, give us some breathing room. Timebreaker, save us the trouble and take them down.”

The artist akuma drew a large barrier that separated the throne room in two, allowing for Mayura and the faux Masquerade to have a layer of protection.

“Mayura, go ahead and find Masquerade. These heroes are starting to become quite irritating.”

“As you wish,” Mayura responded before running to one of the windows and jumping through it.

“Damn it! Feather bitch is getting away. And now we have more pests to deal with? This is getting old!” Queen Bee shrieked.

“We can deal with Mayura later,” Ladybug placated. “And it doesn’t matter how many there are, these akumatized servants are still a threat."

“You gotta admit, Bugaboo, this whole ‘akumatized servants’ bit is getting kind of old. Maybe Hawkmoth is starting to run out of ideas.”

Timebreaker decided to break up their little conversation by going to tag Queen Bee, but just before she was tagged, a lyre flew in and smacked the akuma in the foot, knocking her off balance and sending her crashing to the floor in a gnarly wipe out. The lyre bounced back out of view and likely to the hand of its owner.

“What was that?”

Evillustrator, having finished his barrier, drew a giant pair of scissors to attack the group. The large scissors opened and prepared to snip but were blocked by the blade of a certain dragon heroine.

“Ryuuko?” Ladybug exclaimed in surprise.

“Looks like we made it just in time,” a voice called out before walking into view, revealing the snake hero.

“Viperion?” Chat Noir questioned in a manner similar to that of Ladybug.

Ryuuko used her blade to fling the scissors upward into the ceiling. “It's about time we found you. This school is like a maze!”

“But right now, we are here to help,” Viperion said as he strummed his lyre.

Simularé saw the two new heroes and felt a rush of dread. Things were not going according to plan. She hoped Mayura would be able to get to their master in time. They weren’t sure how much time they had left before the heroes busted through, and before they were discovered as an imposter.

_____________________________________________________________________

Mayura landed on a rooftop neighboring the school and took a deep breath. She felt incredibly relieved that her ruse worked.

Right before she fell into the cloud, she held her breath and didn’t breathe in the perfume. It had been a massive gamble and she had almost failed. But, she managed to pull it off and pretend that she was a helpful servant.

“That sentimonster is far too dangerous.”

Mayura did have to divulge some information regarding the miraculous to the Sentimonster, as she wasn’t sure how convincing her lie would be if she withheld information. As long as it didn’t try to take her miraculous, then it wouldn't be a big deal. It didn’t matter what she told it, because as soon as she sensed the amok, she was ending that monster’s existence.

The Peacock was making her way across the rooftops when she felt her vision start to blur.

“S***! not now,” she cursed as she just missed landing on a roof and ended up falling in the crevice between rooftops. She thought fast and caught herself, landing on her feet.

She could feel her head pounding from the intense pain. She'd thought she had overcome this earlier, but now it seemed that it was back with a vengeance.

“Need… a rest. Duusu…”

Without finishing she noticed her transformation drop. The sudden release of the transformation had the woman feel a bit of relief.

Unfortunately it was only a brief reprieve and before pain came flooding back. Nathalie felt herself begin to fall, but caught herself by putting her hand against the wall.

“Come on Nathalie, you need to get a hold of yourself,” she muttered to herself. The last thing she needed was for this to happen.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Gabriel. It went to voicemail, which was strange. Gabriel usually picked up when she tried to contact him. She sighed and figured she would leave a message. Even he needed bathroom breaks.

“Gabriel. Things are not going as intended. I will try and locate Lila. She seems to be out of the school. I will report back once things are stable.”

Nathalie managed to force herself to stand up straight. She started to walk cautiously out of the small alley.

“Okay, I just need to find Lila.”

“Looking for me?” a voice called out from above her. “Now why would Gabriel’s assistant be doing that?

Nathalie looked up to see Masquerade, flying in the air with Dark cupid’s angel wings. Gabriel’s partner in crime felt a chill go down her spine. She was supposed to be transformed before meeting Masquerade.

“I… I wanted to discuss with you the details of the Photoshoot you were going to be a part of. The one we rescheduled,” Nathalie lied.

Masquerade descended and the wings vanished as she touched her charm bracelet.

“Oh right, that whole thing. Yea, I decided I'm not interested in that anymore,” Masquerade commented casually.

Nathalie was shocked.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, let’s see. I just went through the worst day of my life, my classmates hate me, Adrien is dating that klutzy bitch who caused all of my plans to fall apart, and even my own mother knows about all of the lies I have told for the last two years. I doubt Gabriel would see much use in a pawn that can't even be liked.”

Nathalie felt a chill go down her spine.

“I see… that is unfortunate. I am sure if I talked with Gabriel he would still…”

“Don’t worry about that, I actually talked with him earlier.”

“What?!”

Masquerade revealed a devilish grin.

“Oh yes, and he was really something. Found out quite a lot of secrets from him. We really bonded.”

Nathalie took a step back, only to bump into someone. A tall figure with pale purple skin wearing a bluish-black pointed shouldered dress suit with white lapels and black and red downward-bent stripes on the front. Each lower sleeve had a white stripe. The figure’s hands were gloved and it wore darker black high-heeled boots connected to its black suit pants. But his face was covered by a white theater face mask.

Nathalie turned around and realized who the figure was — the akuma form of Gabriel, The Collector.

“Gabriel!?”

Nathalie tried to jump away, but the Collector held her in a bear hug. She admitted if this was any other situation this would not be a bad thing. But right now, it was one of the worst feelings. Nathalie tried to struggle out, but she could feel the dizzy spell coming back and the akuma’s enhanced abilities made him easily overpower her.

“Such a strong will, Nathalie. But the bracelet tells me you are hiding a lot of baggage.”

Masquerade raised her hand, revealing the glowing charm bracelet. Which was now dangling with countless charms.

“Release me! Release him. Stop this foolishness Lila!” Nathalie ordered. She knew that Hawkmoth couldn’t stop her now, and while she was like this, she couldn’t remove the amok. So Masquerade and Simularé were going to be running around without a leash.

Masquerade looked at the struggling woman and laughed.

“He will never love you.”

The sentence came out like a punch to the nose.

Nathalie stopped struggling.

“What did you just say?”

“I said he will never love you. Oh, sure he sees you as a valuable asset, a great assistant, but tell me, what happens if Gabriel finds a way to see his wife again?” Masquerade’s words were steeped in poison.

“You think you understand…”

“You want him to fail, don’t you?”

“What? What are you saying?”

“You want to hold him close as his last hope of ever seeing his wife again fades into dust. You want to be his muse, his inspiration, his beloved. But deep down you know he will never ever come close to feeling even a fraction as much love for you as he did and still does for her.”

Nathalie could feel the words cutting at her, but she was not planning on giving this akuma any sort of satisfaction.

‘You are trying to get a rise out of me. It won't work. I won't be your puppet,’ Nathalie thought to herself.

“Oh, you are trying to go strong and silent. Well, then why don’t we hear it from the man himself? Collector. Why don’t you tell us what you think of Nathalie.”

Nathalie felt her heart stop as the akuma restraining her started to speak.

“I will never love you like I love my beloved Emilie. Not even close. You are a great asset, but to say I have any feelings of romantic interest towards you would be deception. I owe you a great deal for everything you have done, and in the end, once I get what I want, I will be sure to reward you, but if it is my heart you are after, then you are sadly mistaken.”

Nathalie felt her heart break as the words beat her over the head. She knew it was true, she had always known. But hearing it, hearing him say it, it was soul shattering.

Masquerade took a mask from her dress.

“Oh, what a shame, but at least you will be useful to me, Nathalie.”

She flung it onto Nathalie’s face.

“You will be the Catalyst for the last part of my plan.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“And that should keep them from misbehaving,” Ladybug said as she finished spraying Evillustrator and Timebreaker with Princess Fragrance’s Perfume.

The two akumas remained frozen in place, now unable to move with conflicting orders in their heads.

“And that incapacitates all your akuma soldiers. You are fresh out of minions, Masquerade.”

Ryuuko picked up Evillustrator’s stylist and tablet, using it to erase the clear barrier that separated them from the masked villain.

The Masquerade mimic turned towards the window that Mayura had jumped through. They quickly began making a mad dash to the hole, only to smack into a new clear barrier, causing the illusion to break and the sentimonster to look like Volpina.

“You know, I happen to be an artist in my free time.” Ryuuko exclaimed. “But I think that is enough art for today.”

Ryuuko broke the stylist and kicked Evillustrator into Timebreaker, knocking them both into the wall.

Queen Bee laughed at that.

“Look at 'em fly like ragdolls.”

“I used a bit too much force on that.” Ryuuko lowered her head.

“Now's not the time for this.” Ladybug interjected. “I know you aren’t the real Lila. So where is she?”

The other heroes except Chat Noir were confused.

“Wait, that isn’t Lila? But that’s her akuma form.”

“Not exactly. That thing isn’t Lila, it’s a shapeshifting sentimonster,” Chat Noir explained.

The sentimonster looked at the group and sighed. It transformed into its more phantom-like form.

“Congratulations on your discovery. Yes, I am Simularé. My master is the True Masquerade. But it matters not. Mayura will be bringing her here soon. And by then it will be all over for you. You will soon fall to the power we have acquired.”

Viperion blinked.

“I'm lost, whose Lila? And who is Mayura?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at the snake hero, confused.

“He lost his memory when a weird akuma attacked us. He… forgot a few things,” Ryuuko explained.

“Hold on, You ran into Oblivio?” Ladybug asked.

“They called themselves, Dead Zone.” Ryuuko answered.

“Really? That’s weird. We never fought an akuma with that name. Sounds metal,” Chat Noir commented.

“It was not, it actually used bubbles and pause symbols.”

“Hmm, well Oblivio was made from Alya and Nino. Could it be that the akuma was some sort of fusion between Oblivio, Bubbler and Lady Wifi?”

“That is my assumption,” Ryuuko answered.

“Wait, they got to fight an amalgamation of akuma? Why did they get to fight something original and we had to fight repeats?” Chat Noir questioned, clearly a bit jealous.

Simularé realized they were being ignored.

“HEY! I AM TALKING OVER HERE!” Simularé screeched in anger.

“Oh cram it mask ghost. You aren’t even a real threat at this point,” Queen Bee snapped. “We just spray you with that perfume and you will be another conflicted ragdoll.”

“Oh please, even if it did impact me, that thing is empty.”

Ladybug sighed as she tossed it.

“Well, there goes plan A.”

“No one answered who Mayura was?” Viperion interjected.

“The blue lady with the feather fan,” Chat Noir said.

“Okay thanks.”

“No problem.”

Simularé felt someone trying to contact them.

“Master? What is it?”

“Simularé, status report?”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir are in the throne room. As well as three other heroes. Queen Bee, Viperion, and Ryuuko.”

“Oh? Well that is fine. Did you find Mayura?”

“I sent her out to find you. Is she not there yet?”

“How unfortunate, it seems she abandoned you.”

“But how? I thought…”

“It doesn’t matter. We need to focus on crushing the heroes.”

“But Master, what about Mayura? What if she…”

“No buts, Simularé. Forget all about Mayura. We will deal with her later. I have gotten a LOT of new akuma under my sway. Why don’t you try utilizing their powers? Wipe the floor with those heroes.”

“…Yes Master.” Simularé obeyed, unable to ignore a direct order from her master.

“Seems Mayura abandoned you. She must have known you will be getting your butt kicked.” Chat Noir commented.

The sentimonster’s mask-like face showed a look of anger.

“Oh, this form will do.”

The five heroes were stunned as they watched the sentimonster grow in size, becoming as large as a building and taking the form of a gorilla.

“Looks like they mean Monkey Business,” Ryuuko and Chat Noir said at the same time.

They both looked at each other.

“I didn’t know you liked word play!” Chat Noir exclaimed with delight.

“It is quite fun to make a witty remark,” Ryuuko admitted. “A friend of mine has been rubbing off on me.”

“Well you are both driving me bananas. We need to focus,” Ladybug interrupted, but with an amused smile on her face.

“Nice of you to…” Chat Noir began before being interrupted again.

“Next person that makes a monkey joke is getting my weapon shoved up their…” Queen bee threatened as she drew her weapon.

“Guys, giant gorilla attack?” Viperion chimed in.

“Right!”

The five got into position, knowing this was going to be a fight they would need to take very seriously.

“Do I have your attention now?” The giant sentimonster asked sarcastically.

“So, any ideas Ladybug?” Chat Noir asked.

“Actually, I might have one.”

_____________________________________________________________

How will our heroes fight the new threat?

Will our heroes be able to best Masquerade and her Sentimonster?

Will I be able to actually get that part out before season 4 ends?

Will Masquerade end up taking over Paris?

How will this all end?

Please let me know your thoughts on the chapter and the story as a whole.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #soulmate survey #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ladybug #chat noir #ryuuko #lukagami #ladynoir #queen bee #viperion #ml au #fan akuma #Lila rossi #fan akum #drama #romance #masquerade akuma

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