Lukyan

Hice esta cuenta hace años pero solo ahora la estoy usando de verdad, publicando cosas que rondan en mi cabeza pero que no tengo con quien compartir, si me hubiera esforzado más en las clases de inglés esto sería más fácil pero ya estamos aquí ✨

[lukyan-chan]

DC X DP Master List

So, I've finally learned how to organize all my posts this way! (I took advantage of the fact that work called to say they weren't opening and I could stay home, yay!)

There are titles, the number of parts, and when I finish one I'll write that it's complete (LOL) but at least you'll have an idea of ​​how long the Prompt will be.

Prompt:

Your children will die young.

Bruce thinks he's cursed, actually he's not, although he might as well be.

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3

Pray to the right God

He who is willing to kill must be willing to die, if you wish me hatred you will receive my fury, until the pile of corpses rises beyond the sky, singing with joy, take my pain and put it to rest in your coffin cradle, Hortensia

Part 1 —Part 2 —Part 3

Soulmates

Apparently, when Clockwork told him he had to find himself, for the first time he meant it literally.

Part 1 — Extra (coming soon)

Dead Soulmates

Clockwork said that in this world he would be safe, learn a lot and be happy, that it wouldn't take him long to find his happiness but he just appeared in an alley that doesn't bode well for him.

Part 1 — Part 2 — Extra (coming soon)

It's not really what you think

The moonlight reached him even in his precarious hiding place, as if he were inside a small birdcage, his consciousness fading… I had the feeling someone was calling me

Part 1 — Part 2

What have we done?

The dead have thousands of eternities, and they, above all, had time…Because everything is as it should be.

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4

What are you?

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

I haven't put the number of parts in this last one because I don't know yet. I mean, we've barely reached Nightwing, Jaybin hasn't even appeared yet, but the idea is that all the Batkids will appear and Danny continues to haunt the narrative. I have it written up to Timbin but already planned up to Dami so it's a long series with "short" chapters so I'll keep updating this.

In another life

I guess my life was miserable, but meeting you was my greatest luck. My only wish is that you can be happy.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Extra - Epilogue

One-shot

That section is pretty obvious...

Happy Family

The destroyer

For the crown of the infinite realms, one day I will win.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend

To achieve peace, two kings decide to overthrow a hero.

I decided to write the title of the next one-shots in the draft. so it should be available soon.

Stardust

I wouldn't mind being its dust, if it means I can become a star one day...am I shining?

Well, that's all for now. I have to take advantage of having the day off to keep writing or editing.

The funniest thing is that I have even more stuff saved, but I either discard it, get overwhelmed with editing, or come up with another idea (for example, I have about three different versions of "Jason Todd is Danny Fenton's father" that are still almost finished or unedited and untranslated, because sometimes the translation part is the most time-consuming, and I don't even do it well! But the attempt is there).

See you later~ ✨

[lukyan-chan]

In Another life extras

So, taking advantage of the fact that I've gotten sick (again) from staying home during the free time when the amount of medication didn't make me fall asleep, I decided to try drawing (I haven't drawn in years, seriously, I had a problem related to the medication; it frustrated me a lot, so I decided to stop). So these are just sketches because I'm taking it too seriously (for some reason).

Nightingale Hall/House!

I wanted it to resemble Wayne Manor, but that's too much space for one person to keep an eye on. Jason, the paranoid one, with a baby wouldn't be at ease in a house as big as a mansion, even if it were much smaller than Wayne Manor. Besides, the only one who knew that house would be more populated in the future was Clockwork. Giving him so much space would have been suspicious because, "Why is this dead god of time giving me such a big house if there are only two of us?"

The Nightingales usually see it as their home, nothing fancy, but they commonly refer to it as "Nightingale House." However, when introducing it to other people, civilians, they mainly call it "Nightingale Hall," although by custom it would be "House."

Apparently (remember, this is based on mediocre Google research and my own limited knowledge), a residence with "House" in the name is more common in the UK, discreet, elegant, and old-money. "Hall," on the other hand, is more aristocratic, something with much more history and legacy.

They say "Hall" only because Jason is petty towards school parents associated ; wealthy mothers are his biggest enemies!

Random fact : There's a phone with an answering machine that says something like this, in a voice similar to Alfred's:

"Good day. You have reached Nightingale Hall.

I regret the household is unable to take your call at present.

If you would be so kind as to leave your name, your contact details, and the nature of your enquiry after the tone, your message will be duly recorded.The household will respond in due course."

Even so, the idea is that Nightingale Hall will have at least 9 bedrooms, 7 full bathrooms, 3 half bathrooms (I didn't know where to put the third one, but it would have to be in the backyard because I realized it's a big mistake to only have one bathroom on the ground floor, but it was too late to see where to put it), an attic, a basement, a garage for two cars and space on the street for two more, a small front garden but a larger back garden.

Gardeners are hired occasionally, then more regularly as Jason has less free time.

Anyway. Then I started thinking, "But which Wayne Manor?" So I looked around to see what seemed most realistic for a neighborhood with closer neighbors, mainly because Nightingale House is theoretically smaller.

So I ended up choosing the Wayne Manor from the 1966 live-action Batman series as inspiration because all the others are just too big, simply too big, and a smaller version of it seems more plausible for the area where Jason lives.

Nightingale Hall could be in either Childwall or Mossley Hill, which from what I could research are upper-class areas with many more neighbors (I mean, the houses aren't attached but have more spacious areas, not necessarily in a row, but apparently sometimes they are) than in Calderstones (where the really big houses would be with much more land, more similar to Wayne Manor where you can't reach your neighbors without a car).

In theory it would be something like this, this is more of an inspiration I found when searching for similar images, it doesn't scream "my son is the crown prince of the afterlife" but it does make you wonder "how does a 15-year-old with a baby in the care of his highly suspicious uncle have this house?"

Jason never introduces it as "his Uncle John's" house; he would never imply it that way. He always says, "My Uncle John lives with me to take care of me," making it clear to everyone that the house is his, in his name. Danny would say, "Uncle John and my Uncle Billy live with us."

It has a "small" front garden but the backyard is much larger

The furniture and the overall decorative style of the house are functional and minimalist, with a few objects or pieces of furniture in a striking color. But it's a house that's always kept clean and tidy (because the few times we see Jason's apartment as Red Hood, everything is perfectly clean and tidy, although sometimes I don't know if I prefer to believe it's a way of leaving his childhood apartment behind so he doesn't remember what it's like to live like that, or if it's because he has to be so meticulous as a assassin crime boss out of sheer habit, hahaha).

Ground floor

(I repeat, let's ignore the quality of the drawing, I'm doing this obsessively, for the love of art because I took it very seriously)

A) Hall (B) Guest bathroom next to C) a closet. You can see the staircase. (I didn't even remember to translate it, well, it's the staircase - Escalera)

D) Living Room. In the living room there is a large television next to video game consoles (mainly Billy and Danny's) but the house is mainly full of books (Jason). It's a very large area because it can also be used as a lounge for social gatherings (which Jason hates doing). There is also a wall for many photographs or trophies and ribbons (from school or Jason's cooking competitions).

E) The dining room has a table that seats 6 because Jason felt that a 4-person table wouldn't look right, and in case Danny brought friends over in the future, so the table is extendable.There is a marble island both for eating on, with 6 chairs on one side, and for kneading dough. As a visual divider between the dining room and the large kitchen

F) The kitchen is large with many appliances on display (large refrigerator, microwave, industrial microwave, built-in industrial oven, small electric oven, air fryer, high-powered blender, electric stovetop (8 burners with oven, if it has three ovens), dishwasher, garbage disposal, water dispenser separate from the refrigerator, a regular coffee maker and a capsule coffee maker, and a toaster). It would have more specialized appliances stored away (popcorn machine, juicer, ice cream maker, electric rice cooker, waffle maker, dough sheeter, small pasta maker, industrial mixer, small electric mixer, food processor, and a cocktail maker that I'm giving to Constantine).

The door to G) the greenhouse would be there. Also H) a pantry next to I) the laundry room would be a semi-open space. J) a room next to where Jason keeps tools (counts as a bedroom even though it is not used as such) all connected to a hallway to the garage (K) where there are two cars and the motorcycle.

Jason owns four cars, occasionally hires a driver, and has a motorcycle. The first car is less flashy, for outings where they don't want to appear too wealthy. The second is a high-end family car. The third is for impressing, for more "social" outings (mainly for school events at Danny's private schools); it's the car Jason hires a driver for. The fourth car is a classic, almost a showpiece, that Jason bought on a whim. He rarely drives it, but he simply likes it because it's one of the many cars Bruce owned that he wanted to drive.

First floor

(Let's ignore that my lines aren't straight, okay? And that the proportions between each floor get worse)

The staircase (escalera) barely creates a separation. From left to right: L) Jason's master bedroom with its M) larger full bathroom, which he shares with everyone, mainly if they want to use the bathtub. N) is a walk-in closet for everyone (they don't have that much clothing because they usually donate it and aren't fond of buying much). O) guest room with its P) smaller full bathroom. Q) Billy's room. R) another slightly larger full bathroom that he shares with Conner. S) Conner's room, which is a little above the garage; he can get out through the window facing the street or the one on the side. He just happened to get the letter S, hahaha, I didn't plan it that way. T) Constantine's room is smaller because he has his own house and doesn't always sleep there, and he does have his U) own small full bathroom. V) is Danny's room. W) Danny's full bathroom. Generally, the full bathrooms are connected to their respective rooms; in Danny's case, Constantine's, and the guest room. Billy and Conner's full bathroom is almost as big as Jason's, but it has a smaller tub. Jason only shares a bathroom because his has a bathtub.

Remember that this house has 7 full bathrooms and 3 half bathrooms. (Is this realistic? It doesn't really matter; this house can be as big as imagination and magic require.)

Second floor

The proportions between each floor worsen compared to the previous one, but this is an approximation.

X) Library, obviously very large because Jason only spends money on himself for books with a fireplace. Is it plausible to have the fireplace on the second floor? I don't know, the house won't burn down.

Y) The study, which serves as everyone's office: Jason, Danny, Billy, and Conner. Each has their own desk, filing cabinet, or bookcase, whatever they need. That also applies to Danny, so there's a large desk for Jason and right next to it a small desk for Danny (eventually, each desk will be in a corner of the room). Constantine doesn't have his own because he has his own house.

Z) Another guest room that isn't used as such but is a craft workshop where there would be a sewing machine, knitting supplies, and other things Jason has learned in workshops.

Damn, I ran out of letters, so now it's lowercase!

a) Shared full bathroom. b) Another guest room that also isn't used as such, but just in case or only when someone needs to sleep further away from everyone. c) Playroom for all ages. d) Sand/Salt Room, because nothing screams louder, I'm overly concerned about my son's development, and I have money to spend on a Montessori salt/sand room—not a sand/salt box inside the house, but a whole room! I have a video! Which I'll leave until the end. This room changes over time, but it's mainly all in the Montessori style, just in one room. e) for another small closet.

Attic This is barely drawn because it's supposed to be the ceiling(techo) ; the space is the ceiling. Sorry, I didn't include the translation in the drawing either.

In this one, I barely did more than my miserable attempt at a floor plan, but f) the attic is a large space that serves as a storage room. It has a corner marked (Drama Queen) where a balcony-type window should go, where Jason usually smokes. I christened it in my head "the window for the drama and melancholy of the Nightingale family." g) is that square where the hatch-type staircase to the attic opens. h) is Danny's observatory where there's another larger window that has i) another half-bathroom.

Oh my God, and I'm almost done!

Basement I didn't draw it, nor did I even try.

In the basement, there's another full bathroom as well as a gym. The idea is for it to be a very large gym, big enough for a team of gymnasts or something similar to a ninja warrior-type arena with all the equipment for hanging and moving. Everything needed for bat training, but for very few people. This is where the weapons are stored (pistols, smoke bombs, knives, swords, razors, bows and arrows, magical weaponry, etc.).

Backyard I won't draw this either, maybe another day (why am I taking this so seriously???) The yard is large enough for a play area; you can see part of the greenhouse. On the other side, there must be a space for an outdoor dining area with a table for six and a gondola-style roof with flowers. I suppose the last half-bathroom, a grill and pizza oven, and a large tree with a treehouse that looks like a rocket would also be around here. All of this is enclosed by bushes that hide a metal fence where there would be sensors for the security system.

A history for civilians about the Nightingale family.

John Constantine is the third cousin of Jason's mother, Catherine Nightingale. He's Jason's "uncle" and Nanny/guardian. Co-tutor of Sky Nightingale. His job is dubious and unknown; he's flirtatious and seems like a bad influence. He doesn't show up to many school events or is seen around the house much.

Jason Nightingale Todd civilian appearance/disguise: 170 cm tall, acrobat's physique (slender with muscles), blond-brown hair, blue eyes, Caucasian, no scars. Son of Willis Todd and Catherine Nightingale (who's died very young). "Grandpa Alfred," "Alfie," and "Grandma" (Clockwork) are mentioned as Jason's new parents/real guardians. A single father, he never married, graduated from high school online, but worked very hard to get into Oxford on his own. A lawyer by training, he then earned a master's degree in early childhood education at Oxford and dreams of a doctorate in literature at Cambridge. Regarding his work as a lawyer, he says something like, "I do it for fun," "if an interesting case comes along," "I don't have a firm because I'm focused on being present for my son and my family." (He can back up the fact that he has a lot of money, hence the many rumors.) He attended many workshops to pass the time. He has no friends, although he has a group of mothers who are almost like friends. He's not usually very involved in their private lives to avoid problems with rumors or with their husbands. They're generally mothers who dislike another group of mothers and are less prejudiced regarding age or the little Jason tells them about himself. He also doesn't consider himself a friend of some other parents. Many older people, in their 40s or beyond, consider him a "friend" or more than just an acquaintance; some even have genuine affection for him, but Jason is either an outsider or the relationship is undefined (Alfred and Dick would be very sadness by this). Due to his height, age, handsome young face, and lack of any real knowledge about his ancestry, he isn't taken seriously. He always ends up making enemies of some of Danny's classmates' mothers or the Parents' Association in general.

Sky Nightingale, Jason's cousin through Catherine, was orphaned. Jason is his guardian (by necessity and legal designation according to the will), and his co-guardian is John. He studies journalism (he never says where), has a job at a radio station (he never specifies where or what he does, but he's an announcer), and makes friends at university but lies to them about his identity.

Danny Nightingale, son of Jason Nightingale and Sheila, gets his last name directly from Jason because "she's not talked about at home," presumably dead. There isn't even a picture of her nearby.

Conner Kent (later known as Nightingale), Jason's half-brother (on his father's side; there was infidelity/abandonment), from the United States, Metropolis. Jason plans to give him the Nightingale surname. He is integrating into the family.

The supposed family situation, speculated about by the mothers, members of the school committees, teachers, some workers (gardeners), and neighbors, is as follows:

Jason Nightingale is the illegitimate son of some member of royalty. He had his son, Daniel Nightingale, with a poor, troubled, delinquent, or disreputable girl who died in childbirth (or abandoned them) at the age of 15. People notice that when they ask about Danny's mother, Jason can't help but show his hostility, aversion, and repulsion towards her, usually referring to her as "that woman" or "we don't mention her at home."I imagine some woman commenting with feigned innocence something like, “Oh, she looks like a tart.” And Jason wouldn't deny it. (I'll explain this further below.)

His “Uncle John” (on his mother's side) is some other rebellious or exiled member (denied the Nightingale surname) of the family, perhaps from an even more distant branch, who agreed to take care of the boy. John never clarifies what kind of work he does; he simply leaves home dressed the same, takes a taxi, or is simply seen entering but not seen in what car he arrives in.

Billy is introduced as Sky Nightingale, Jason's maternal cousin who was orphaned. He begins living at Nightingale Hall, though he continues to introduce himself as "Billy" as a family nickname, so people assume his name is William Sky Nightingale or Sky William Nightingale, but he's embarrassed to be called Sky.

Being Jason's cousin, it's technically acceptable for Danny to call him "Uncle Billy," "Uncle Sky," or simply by his name, given the age difference.

Constantine's nickname is "Connie" "tinny" or "Uncle Connie." There was a time when he was "Uncle Cookie."

Unfortunately (and with great sorrow) for Jason, he can't introduce Conner as his son to the civilians because of their ages, so they'll integrate him as Jason's half-brother.

Now imagine Danny's school assignment about a family tree, which his teachers were very curious about; it would look something like this. (I did this on a loose sheet of paper I finally found, so let's overlook my terrible handwriting and how mediocre it is.)

I had "Elysia" saved as one of the names for Clockwork (because sometimes I look up several just in case). he's Alfred's fake wife.

C.C. and Marilyn are Billy's parents. In this case, I made Marilyn and Catherine sisters.

Constantine isn't on Danny's family tree because when I made this, I didn't know what kind of fake relationship he would have, given that DJL and JL are supposedly told that Constantine was tasked with looking after Jason. They never state that they are blood relatives, but since Jason pretends to be blond, it's something that gets overlooked.

Jason still believed Bruce had rejected him, and he never mentioned Danny to him until he was older (which is where the epilogue takes place), so he always said his father was Willis and his mother was Catherine.

Danny also never uses Sheila's name, only her initials, even on official documents. Danny says he has more than enough with his grandmother and all his great-aunts and aunts.

Tim's Theories

I never found a good time or way to really explain Tim's theories, so I'll put it here.

This Jason feels more hostility/hatred towards Sheila not only because of her intention to sell him and Danny to the Joker without remorse. Technically, Sheila tells him that Danny is his half-brother, and before Tim decided to come up with his crazy theories, Danny was Sheila and Jason's son (hence the repulsion/hatred). But Clockwork would also imply that Sheila made her own choices, that she had other ways to reach Danny, yet Sheila chose much more evil paths and ended up being Danny's new "biological mother."

After Tim developed his theories, which Clockwork then brought to fruition, Sheila's reputation only worsened.

Tim's theory is that Jason was a failed clone of Bruce, intended to replace him. They tried to obtain all traces of Thomas and Martha's DNA, but there wasn't enough, so they used Bruce's DNA. The problem was that there wasn't any DNA for the mother (they didn't want to risk it with Kate or Beth Kane). So Sheila is Jason's biological mother, and Willis Todd ended up being injected, apparently without his knowledge, with nanotechnology to replace his DNA with Bruce's. (You know, the origin of Terry McGinnis.)

The Batfamily thinks with (justified) horror that Sheila not only decided to be part of the cloning plan, but also decided that Jason was a failed experiment and abandoned him with Willis, apparently to have him as a backup in case she needed him in the future for future evil experiments. Then, with even more horror, they discover that the baby (Danny) is Sheila's son, but using Jason's DNA, having a child with her own son (a disturbingly incestuous situation, because what could be worse than that?) whom Sheila planned to give to the Joker to deceive him and get rid of him, as well as her debt.

Before he died, he implied that his plan to scam and murder failed because Jason escaped and his backup didn't arrive. The information Steph obtains from Sheila's associate is that he was only there to secure "the shipment," which she discovers was the baby Sheila appeared with. He simply had to ensure Sheila and the baby were delivered to another intermediary. They only needed the baby alive, but if Jason died, it didn't matter to them because Jason was a bonus, something they assured him would get him more money.

They never find the organization responsible for the cloning plan that gave rise to Jason or the new job that created Danny; they only know that most of them are dead or missing.

The reality is that Sheila was Danny's biological mother for a very short time, but Jason is still abhorred by it because there were other ways Danny could have come into his life, but Sheila's decisions led her to become his new mother. Jason doesn't blame Tim for this, given that it's his theory, because Clockwork left room for Sheila's decisions. Even so, he still doesn't understand how she came up with this.

The biological father is Clockwork, and the mother is Jason in Danny's case.

Although Clockwork rarely lets anyone call him that, Danny sometimes calls him his other dad, and rarely calls Jason "Mom," even though he knows he's technically his mother.

Regarding Conner, Sheila worked as a consultant for Cadmus, primarily to help stabilize the Superman clone because there are DNA gaps that can't be filled. The final order was to use Lex Luthor's DNA, but it's not viable, and nobody, really nobody, wants to tell Lex that. So, more secretly, to succeed, they use Jason's DNA, which, according to this theory, Sheila would have many samples of on hand. Jason's DNA, for some unknown reason, is adaptable for use with other difficult samples. Clark is the father, and Jason is the mother. (Something Bruce hates simply because “it’s not fair, this is my best friend and this is my son”)

Ages

I literally wrote this on the back of a Post-it note at work because I was suddenly losing track of the numbers. At that point, I didn’t know whether or not to include Duke. I also forgot to include Barbara, but she would be a year older than Dick.

The count starts on April 27th, the day Jason was supposed to die, and by then he is 15 years old.

Conner’s count at the end has two sets of numbers, since one would be his real age and the other the age to which he was artificially aged. In theory, he is Jason’s youngest son, but he is a year younger, so it’s easy to lie about them being half-brothers.

Names

The Nightingale family has two or more names. John Constantine - Solas Nightingale. Jason Todd-Wayne. - Jason Nightingale-Todd. -Jason Corvus Nightingale. -Red Star/Red Hood. William (Billy) Joseph Batson. - Billy Sky Nightingale. - Sky Nightingale. - Captain Marvel. Conner Kent - Conner Altair Nightingale. - Kaile-All. -Supernova. Daniel Fenton. - Daniel (Danny) Nightingale. -Polaris Nightingale. -Phantom Nightingale.

Clothing

So the Nightingales always wear trench coats or overcoats. It started as a way to keep people thinking John and Jason were related, but it ended up being a defining characteristic. Besides the multiple names.

I didn't bother looking for Constantine's clothes; he's iconic enough on his own.

Jason, as a civilian, wears a black trench coat. This can change in length, fabric, or style (to look like a blazer, for example). When he goes out, he dresses quite casually: turtlenecks, white shirts with knitted vests, a hoodie underneath, t-shirts with punk, rock, or skull designs, or polo shirts. Sweatpants, jeans, or regular pants.

On formal occasions, he always wears shirts in shades of red, emerald green, or sapphire blue. Ties, dress pants, shoes, the whole set.

And then there's this, which, as you can see, is battered, folded, and was what I had lost.

I wanted Jason's cape to be more dramatic; it's long, with the edges torn from battle wear, and a bit burned or ripped. The two black blocks are supposedly black belts with buckles (I know, I didn't even try). The hood part had a black and gray plush that started out neat but ended up torn and damaged. Curiously, there are two parts that stick up, making them look like ears.

That's why they call him Red Hood, both for the obvious reason and because that part of the hood looks like wolf ears.

Underneath that is the normally long black trench coat. A black Kevlar plate. Cargo pants with many pockets, combat boots with metal toes and claws.

Billy… Since Marvel doesn't need his trench coat or cape. But his civilian trench coat is dove gray; he usually wears it to work as a coat, jacket, or blazer if necessary. Underneath, he wears red hoodies, either with his own logo or ones he stole from Jason.

Danny He has a navy blue coat, which he changes in style and length for different occasions. It keeps him cool, actually, because he hardly ever feels the cold. Much later on, he'll get a cape with space depicted on it, covered in white plush to make it look like a king's cape.

Conner He has his two jackets, as I mentioned in Part 2, his classic leather jackets.

And I think that's finally all.

I think I'll upload the epilogue Friday night!

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[lukyan-chan]

DC X DP Prompt Fairy tale? Happy ever after?

English isn't my native language; it's me and the translator against the world. This is just an idea that I'll probably end up using later, but until then...

Jason dies (as always). His ghost ends up in Amity Park, where he meets Team Phantom and they have many adventures, spend time together, become family, and are happy (not for long). Jay is pulled back into life, forgetting much of the time he spent as a ghost, and plots his revenge.

Team Phantom panics because Jason has disappeared, so they search for him (they've been through a lot, they've grown, even Dan has been redeemed alongside Vlad). Clockwork tells them he's found their Jason and shows them everything that's happened, everything that's changed.He's no longer the heroic little ghost, he's no longer sweet, nerdy, he doesn't even seem like the same Jason they knew. But Clockwork lets them see everything, not a summary, but everything that has happened, everything he has survived. The moments when they glimpse something of that boy they loved, they see how the corrupted ectoplasm alters his mind, amplifying every negative emotion and trauma. Clockwork shows them the future, how that confrontation will end, and the possible bad outcomes for Jason.

Because for his entire "family," things will be alright, they'll be happy, the world is safe, but they don't even notice their supposed brother.

They can go before the confrontation or after it; they can try to stop it or they can join him.

They decide to join him.

[Because Robin has magic, even in the worst moments, Robin kept them together when they felt they were losing them, because Robin is theirs]

They go to his world, they ambush him, mainly to forcibly remove that rotten ectoplasm.

When the Lazarus Water leaves his system, after he falls unconscious, the memories return.

These people aren't the enemy, they are his friends, his family, his…

None of them judge him for what happened, they just seem hurt that he suffered so much alone; he doesn't have to be alone anymore.

He has a team, he has to train them even more than before because Gotham is a cursed land, his world is cruel.

They come up with aliases based on fairy tales, just for fun. If Jason is Red Hood (Jazz made him a hood, even though it didn't match his usual style, but Jason simply couldn't refuse.)

Jazz is Siren. There's power in her words because she's liminal.; she's discovered she can compel people to tell the truth, persuasive. It's not mind control, but she can alter people's emotions. She's the group's spy.

Sam is simply "Witch." She harnesses her powers over plants, even donning green body paint like the Wicked Witch of the West. Of course, she has to go and stalk Poison Ivy. But she also incorporates details from various fairytale witches.

Tucker is "Mirror." Everything computer-related—hacking, tracking, controlling technology—is his forte. He'll put Oracle in a tight spot because he has her own power over technology. (When the others leave, they call him "Mirror, mirror on the wall, can you get me this information?" It amuses them and the children in the alley too.)

Dan decided to be "Beast" because he felt the character suited him—someone arrogant who has finally found his heart again and become human once more. He's much more terrifying to watch. He's the one who helps enforce the rules because he looks terrifying in his costume, but he's kind and a little clumsy with the children.

Ellie is the "Puss in Boots"—her chaotic manner and smooth talk distract everyone or lead them into traps and trouble (they considered Cheshire, but remembered the Mad Hatter and didn't want anyone to associate them together; Ellie is happy because she can wear ridiculous hats and more extravagant boots whenever she wants). She's the closest thing to "Robin" that Jason's heart could bear.

Vlad is the "Uncle Drosselmeyer," the only "real adult" who decided to buffer the group's madness. Besides infiltrating high society as if he'd always been there, what he actually does is deceive the rich with corrupt positions to steal from them and give back to the people.

Clockwork decided that although he can't appear there (and play alongside them), he can help them because he has no restrictions in Jason's world, so they call him their benefactor, "Mr. Grimm," who sends them information that can change the course of events.

(This is Dead on Main, but any other ship could work, just pick the Fenton you want to pair with Jason, hahaha)

Danny is "Hunter," Red Hood's partner, who supports him unconditionally even if their morals differ. Danny is there to back Jason up because when they became friends, Jason was the only ghost who helped Danny, so they know how to work as a team, they truly trusted each other; their feelings progressed from camaraderie to a deep friendship and finally to romance (it seemed like it had been a long time ago).

(If you decided to swap Jazz for Danny, Danny would be "Hamelin" or "Peter Pan," so Jazz has to be "Wolf" because there's already a Huntress. If it were Dan, he'd stay the same and say Jason is his "Belle"—in fact, he'd call him that all the time.)

Suddenly, the Bats will discover that Red Hood has more mysterious allies because every time they're about to capture him, a new vigilante appears.

These people don't seem to be as highly trained as Red Hood, but they have too many tricks that Red Hood can't outsmart. But as time goes on they will become more trained, they move as one and they are here to stay.

The revelation happens, not as Jason originally planned, but with each passing day he wonders if it's necessary, if he really wants to go back or know the answer, even though he already knows it. But he still gives it a chance.

It's him or me.

[A or B?]

[Because he took me away from you]

[Because you taught me that our lives mean something, our deaths mean something, so what do my life and my death mean? Why can't you choose me?]

[You never chose me]

Before the skin of his neck is damaged, there's a sudden movement. Red Hood, Jason, is no longer there, but the Joker's head rolls. The "hunter's" scythe was so fast, the Joker didn't even realize he was dead. There was no more laughter, no more crying. A smoke bomb filled the place, then there was an explosion.

When Bruce came out, he saw Red Hood. Jason, his son, looked at him with pain and betrayal.

"So you've made your decision, Bruce. Live with it now."

Jason put on the Red Hood helmet. Beside him, Hunter holds his blood-soaked scythe. In his other hand, he holds the Joker's head by the hair. He can make out the other strangers on the rooftops farther away: Siren, Beast, Witch, and the youngest of the group, Puss in Boots. They are in formation, waiting to see if they should protect their leader, if they should attack, if he will move. Red Hood moves toward his own territory. Puss in Boots moves to his possible hiding place. Red Hood passes Beast, and when he reaches Siren, she goes with him. Hunter and Beast stay behind.

“You turned your back on him,” Hunter said. “You were going to cut his throat, because of this.” He shook his head. “Even when we told him you’d never want him enough, he gave you a chance. We told him you’d do this. He’s that kind. But now he’s ours. We don’t plan on giving him back.” His voice was strange; he couldn’t see his face through the black helmet that matched Jason’s. The robotic voice, chosen to frighten, said, “I hope you’re satisfied with your decision.”

That was all he said before another explosion took him by surprise. The hunter and the beast were gone.

_____________

Of course, although Bruce wants to keep Red Hood's identity a secret, he only gets so far. The Batfamily discovers it through Mirror (as a small attack to sow discord within the group).

Jason's criminal group would also adopt fairytale character names because no one told them they couldn't name themselves after fairytale characters. Jason would arrive to discover that there are squads named after the seven dwarfs from Snow White (this is how they differentiate between those who agree with killing, those who don't want to, those who help with children, etc.). Some of the "working girls" are "fairy godmothers." The more trust there is between Red Hood and his lieutenants, the more likely it is that those people decided on a nickname, or someone gave them a nickname and it wasn't worth correcting them.

Jason left them alone with Team Phantom, and now they all have a bit of a fairytale about them.

Of course, this could lead to jealousy from the Batfamily.

Bruce also wants to blame these strangers for Jason's change because it's easier to shift that blame onto them.

They don't know the whole story, so they only have theories, the words of these "vigilantes" who aren't always trustworthy.

There would be many misunderstandings because every time they spy on Jason and his team, they'll only discover that there are two other people behind the scenes.

First, they'll discover "Uncle Drosselmeyer," thinking he's the true mastermind of the organization, the one who must be manipulating all these young people, until, through another misunderstanding, they'll discover the puppet master.

Mr. Grimm, as the one who brought them all together, their secret benefactor, "the one pulling the strings," who seems to be having a great time with all the chaos they create in the city.

Bruce might become desperate about Mr. Grimm, believing he's the one who brainwashed his son, someone worse than Ra's al Ghul. In fact, he doesn't even think Ra's had anything to do with it because, by the time of the reveal, Jason would have his blue eyes back since the Lazarus problem would have been fixed. So Bruce is silently going crazy trying to discover the identity of this "Mr. Grimm" who seems to control or know a lot about the world. Bruce won't discover until much, much later that it was Talia who threw Jason into the Lazarus Pit, but he'll still believe that Mr. Grimm is the one who brought Jason back to life.

By the time Damian arrives, it could happen in two ways: Damian might arrive at the mansion, or Jason might decide to bring Damian to his side.

If Damian stays with Jason, he would become the new Puss in Boots, and Ellie would be Cinderella. (I mean, one of Damian's Robin costumes already has the boots, plus what would help him loosen up more?)

Batman has Robin. Red Hood has Puss in Boots.

Selina would be involved with Ellie in some way because of the cat theme.(because there's another vigilante out there with the cat thing, and she has to be there).

(Also, I can imagine Damian and Selina agreeing on caring for cats and other animals).

Damian would have this group of people he can't kill (because some are already dead, you're a little late, kid). They're so chaotic but healthy; they see this kid raised in a cult and say, "He's ours now."

Actually, see Tucker and Sam's arguments about eating meat or not as something similar to Batman's no-kill rule and the League of Assassins' ideology, before he changes to his own criteria. He'll come to the conclusion that neither is right nor wrong, and you can't force others to follow your moral rules.

In Dan, he'll find someone who, despite causing so much harm, was given a second chance because everyone deserves a second chance. He chose to change, to be kind, and to know when he can be cruel.

(Jaybin used what Bruce taught him—that everyone can change and be good—that's how he helped Dan not to hate himself, that he could still be good. So, in a way, this lesson would still reach Damian.)

Jazz is that almost maternal figure. It's not that Talia was bad, but she couldn't be gentle. Damian knows his mother loves him, but having an older sister is different, yet similar. Jazz doesn't use her powers on anyone in her family, not even Damian; she uses them to help people.

For some reason, Vlad's rigidity relaxes him; his food is good, they can talk, and even plot petty revenge against the rich together.

Ellie helps him become more like a child, because at first she tricks him into thinking it's part of the "Puss in Boots" charm—conniving, chaotic, but helpful to people. Then they become a pair causing chaos, and Damian enjoys it.

The difference between Robin and Puss in Boots is that Puss in Boots can kill if necessary to save his own life.

No more dead Robins.

Jason would end up allying himself with other "villains" through connections: Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Catwoman, Riddler, and Killer Croc. Their relationships range from being on his side to being merely neutral.

And that's all I have.

That Bruce is still searching for whoever stole Jason.

Jason has this whole team of vigilantes and his own alley crew who decided to give themselves names related to children's stories (they incapacitated the Mad Hatter so he couldn't ruin the idea).

He has his friends, family, and partner back, and they love him unconditionally.

The Bat-family is jealous, confused, indignant, and annoyed.

Clockwork would really bother Bruce and Tim.

Vlad would have a night out drinking with Harley, Pamela, and Selina because, although he loves his group of kids, they're a mess, and he doesn't know why he loves them and keeps taking care of them.

Bye!

[lukyan-chan]

Well, I'm home now. I feel like my brother's going to notice because I'm putting the laundry in the washing machine at midnight. (I can do that because the surrounding houses are abandoned or unoccupied right now, so I can't bother anyone.) But my brother will finally show up to complain that I'm doing laundry because it's so late.

Let's see what happens.

[lukyan-chan]

I was going through my documents, because I lost some, and I found one where Constantine and Jason are Danny's wives.

I don't even know why it ended up like that, because at first it seemed like it was about Jason traveling back in time to have a better life. I don't know why he ended up being the second wife (even though he's the reigning queen) or how John Constantine ended up being the first wife (but without political power and just a sugar baby).

I don't know why it deviated so much from the story when it seemed like Jason traveled to the past before he died and decided to have a better life. It didn't even seem like Danny had anything to do with it. I want to ask my past self how it ended up like that and what happened next, because it's obviously not finished.

There's also a part where they threaten Clark, telling him that if he doesn't treat Kon well, Jason will make him his third wife because he knows his husband's (Danny's) preferences.

There's also Damian, who accepts Jason's future marriage. He's pleased that his brother found a worthy partner and is queen Regent.

Dick was horrified because by the time they found out, Jason was almost 17 years old. He was like, "No supernatural king would marry my little wing! He's too young for marriage!"

They also didn't know at first who the Ghost King's first wife was, so they only knew that the future Jason was the second wife, the reigning queen who made decisions in the kingdom and that while the king was away, everyone had to obey her.

They only knew that the first wife decided not to do any royal duties or assume any responsibilities.

Ellie and Dan are Danny's children. The Batfamily thinks that Ellie is the daughter of the first wife (John) and Dan is the son of the second wife (Jason). At some point, they discover that Ellie and Dan are the stepchildren and that Dan treated Jason badly (was disrespectful), but they discover that he was in love with Jason (that is, his "stepmother").All of this happens when Ellie and Dan are supposed to be dead; their souls no longer exist.It's a mess of past, present, and future, and the Batfamily is way too confused.I want to know what happens next or why all this happened.

I have way too much nonsense written here. All of this makes me cringe, so I'm not going to post it.

(What would the ship formed by Danny, Jason, and John be called? Because the age differences are problematic, but for Jason and John, it would be their fantasy romance, so it doesn't matter. But then, what should it be called if it were Danny, Jason, John, and Kon?)

[lukyan-chan]

On Tuesday night, I discovered that my brother hasn't realized I haven't been home since I left Sunday at noon. In fact, I won't be home until Thursday night.

I'm so tempted to tell our family (grandma and aunts) because they've always insisted we live together to take care of each other, that he, being the man of the house, should look after me. This same guy didn't even notice I left on Sunday, even though our rooms are next to each other.

And I only realized he hadn't noticed because he texted me saying that when I got home, I should put his clothes in the dryer.

The funniest thing is that I was originally going to come home on Tuesday, but when I got his text, I decided, "No, I'll go get more clothes, drop off some things, and won't be back until Thursday."

My friends found this hilarious, so we went over to my place, I put his clothes in the dryer, left him the money to pay the electricity bill, and said goodbye! And I went back to my friends' house.

I'm really tempted to go back home on Saturday. Just to see if he says anything or finally realizes I haven't come home.

I'm seriously considering going back on Saturday, just for fun.

[lukyan-chan]

I know it's a weird view, mainly because I didn't even know how to take a good picture (later I realized Jason can't see anything under his breasts).

Anyway, I wanted to get something Jason-related. It's either too expensive or I can't find it anywhere, so I said, "I'll make it myself, nothing a little paint can't fix." So I bought a t-shirt in the men's section of a regular department store and then finally painted the symbol on it. Easy, no mistakes. I didn't count on my brother's cat jumping on the table and doing what cats do: knocking things over for the sheer pleasure of it. It's not noticeable, I think, but then she did something with her claws, so there are slight punctures that aren't visible from a distance. No matter, I have another craft project in mind, even if I cheat a little, but who's going to judge me?

So now I have a t-shirt!

[lukyan-chan]

I'm going to blurt something out that has nothing to do with what I usually post, but there's no one to talk to seriously about it, and it'll be a way to vent until I decide what to do tomorrow.

Today, somehow, the hair dye ended up partially returning me to my original hair color.

I have some bleached areas in my hair; I got an angel halo two years ago. Obviously, hair grows, and the bleached part is now much lower down, along with my bangs and some front strands that I usually dye purple, blue, or red—fantasy colors (I keep doing it to disguise my gray hairs, since when the dye fades, you can't tell what's bleached and what's gray; it's my foolproof plan). My intention was to use a red dye, not a fantasy color, but still eye-catching. Just look at that.

It didn't turn out even remotely similar. I looked at myself in the mirror, saw the color, and thought: "Damn, where have I seen this hair color before? I've seen someone with this color… wait a minute, damn it! It's my mom's original hair color! It's my original color! Damn it!"

Then I texted my friends, lamenting that my hair color had reverted to its original shade. I sent them pictures, thinking about how to fix this.

At some point in the voice message (which I didn't send) where I was lamenting, I realized that the main argument was: "I've gone back to my original hair color, my mom's hair (I inherited my hair color and straightness from my mom). I need to dye it another color or dye it black (my dad's hair color)." And it was like, "Oh, the trauma."

Since I was 14 or 15, I managed to get permission to dye my hair, since I didn't want anything extravagant, not blonde, not red, not orange, or anything that would get me in trouble at school.

At first, they only let me go with dark brown, chocolate, and darker shades because everyone said, "Black can't be removed, you might regret it," even though I wanted black hair. I finally managed to get the stylist on my side, I dyed my hair black and she was like, "Oh honey, that color really suits you! It looks natural on you!"

My father's side of the family has black hair (not that intense black, just a normal black that even in the sun you could tell wasn't dark brown, but black) and curly.

Other members of that side of the family still have dark brown hair.

However, if you put my cousins, my brother, and me together, you'll notice the difference.

My dad had this black hair and this thick black beard (which my brother didn't inherit, but his hair color… ugh, he has it, and it's so unfair).

As you can guess, my relationship with my mother isn't the best. The idea of ​​dyeing my hair was to stop having her hair, to stop looking like her.

Black looked so normal and fit in with the family photo. I literally spent years dyeing it black, so many years that no one remembered it wasn't naturally black. To the point that my friends' mother (we've been friends for 18 years) were taken aback when I blurted out one day that the black was fading and I needed to dye it soon. "You dye your hair?! Isn't it naturally black?! Have you been deceiving me my whole life? But you have the same color as your dad and your brother!"

(It's a funny anecdote because she was so betrayed and disappointed that black wasn't my original color, although it also became a running joke.)

Black was so me because I liked how it looked, and sometimes when I styled it with fantasy colors, it looked even more impressive. It's so me that I'd forgotten why I wanted it this way. The sky is blue, my hair is black because I look amazing with it. It took me so long to remember that it was supposed to be like this, and now I see it and think, "Actually…it's not ugly. I just didn't want to look like her. It's not ugly…I'd forgotten that I actually liked this color."

So here I am making waffles and chocolate pudding at 2 a.m., realizing that the color isn't ugly and that I've been hating it for almost 20 years because it reminded me of my mother. Maybe I'll dye it tomorrow because it feels so strange to see this color on me, and my mother is completely unaware that all this started because I didn't want to look like her. When she decides to show up, she'll see the color and say something like, "You couldn't dye your hair properly even though you've been doing it for years?" or "What color was that supposed to be?"

So I'm just having this moment in the kitchen while I make waffles and pudding, I thought that going back to the original color wouldn't make me look bad, but I don't know if I can look in the mirror, see the color and how straight it is, remembering my mother's version from years ago that gives me the creeps.

(That is, I inherited premature gray hair from both sides of the family. My mother has aged and her hair color isn't this color anymore, but it's the color she had when she was young, the version of her that makes me uncomfortable.) and I'll just drown my little crisis with pudding, waffles, and peanut butter.

[lukyan-chan]

In Another Life Part 2

Jaybin is a magical girl, Bruce and Jason are very similar in ways they don't even realize, Jason is still his father's son. I can't write battle scenes or anything that dynamic, so sorry. Jason Todd is an unreliable narrator; no member of the Batfamily is a reliable narrator. Danny makes things up. It's me and the translator against the world.

_______

The worst part about his malnutrition was that he looked much younger than he was. At first, people thought Danny was his little brother and left him alone; it was almost endearing. But eventually, people noticed that they always saw only Danny and him. Some people started asking questions, and John had to encourage them to be seen more often.

The more questions and stares he received, the less he wanted to leave the house. At first, it was easy to avoid going out; Danny was a baby, and everything he needed was inside. The house gradually filled up with toys, especially those advertised to aid growth or development—anything that seemed useful or that Danny actually wanted.

The house had many rooms, so the first renovation was a playroom, all soft and comfortable. At some point, he realized that Danny didn't need so many toys and started donating them.

When Danny slept, he felt very restless. Reading had helped, but the nervous energy remained beneath his skin. He was used to being alone, used to taking care of someone, but since Bruce adopted him, that loneliness faded. He spent a lot of time in the kitchen with Alfred, a lot of time talking or joking with Bruce, and he still didn't fully trust John.

John was there like an imposed bodyguard. He smelled of alcohol and tobacco, reminding him too much of Willis in the end. The smell of cigarettes made him anxious because he had promised himself he would quit, since smoking near a baby isn't healthy. Although sometimes, when Danny slept, he would smoke in the attic because he needed to. Talking to his baby only went so far. Silence was something new. In Crime Alley, or rather, in Gotham, there is never silence. Even in the mansion, there was the noise of the house itself, the clock, the cave, or the noise made by the three people who lived there.

Online school could only fill his time to a certain extent. Presentations were the only days he spoke to so many people, and he honestly didn't know what to talk about.

But it was better than going out, being watched by everyone, and the whispers.

So he started looking for any online workshops he could take to occupy his time. He was tempted to look for a workshop he could attend in person, but people would ask if he was bringing Danny, and he wasn't hiring a babysitter.

So he kept looking for ways not to go crazy. Technology was advancing; cell phones and social media were becoming more popular, but he didn't need a cell phone. I mean, there was no one to call and no one to call him. The home phone was fine for the few calls he made.

John told him he should go out more, more for Danny than for himself, something about him needing to learn to socialize. He also said he couldn't avoid therapy any longer, that he should visit on a more regular schedule, and that he could take care of Danny. That seemed suspicious to him because, although John visited almost every day, he would just walk through the door, say hello, and vanish as if by magic. He would appear early in the morning, walk out the door, and leave. Then he would just open the front door but enter the house of mystery without even seeing Danny or him, but people were left with the impression that he had some strange schedule, yet they saw him.

Going out without Danny felt bad. Maybe he really did have an attachment issue. How would Danny survive if he had to go out? What about when he grew up and had to go to school? Therapy continued to be difficult. He didn't feel like he was getting anywhere. He could barely talk about himself. He was sure that Tiana knew so much about Danny that she almost knew him, although it was somewhat involuntary to end up talking about Danny. Perhaps the loneliness was affecting him.

Tiana suggested he should go out; perhaps he could take Danny to daycare, not only because he needed to live his own life but also so Danny could socialize properly.

Making friends was still complicated. People his age didn't have kids, people his age weren't vigilantes or street kids—what the hell was he supposed to talk to them about?

So he ends up in a book club. Of course, he's the youngest and only man among other ladies or women in their thirties. They wouldn't even serve him wine.

After five books, he simply gives up and doesn't go back. Not that anyone cares.

Danny turns three. He enrolls him in daycare more permanently, goes to the gym where at least the men don't ask why he's there instead of school, and joins a woodworking, an electrical, and a plumbing workshop at the same center.

So he drops Danny off at daycare at 8, goes to the gym, then to carpentry at 10, plumbing at 11, finds something to eat around midday, and finally takes electrician's class. He leaves there, picks up Danny, they go to the park, and then home.

That only works until the workshops are over. He graduates, feels an emptiness he doesn't want to explain, his older classmates coo at him or look at him with a mixture of tenderness and pity, and he hates it more and more. His peers ignore him.

So he turns to magic because at least he knows it's something he can never truly learn. John is a terrible teacher, too.

But at least Danny makes friends, and he does a lot of his schoolwork because, really, do Teachers expect a three-year-old to do all his homework? Danny might be his son, and he might be incredibly biased, but his son sees school glue and wants to smear it all over the table instead of sticking little balls of colored paper on letter drawings without going outside the lines.

Teaching him to write is…oh my god, a nightmare. The only good thing is that Danny is actually quite advanced in reading, as evidenced by the way he speaks. When the teachers stop judging him for being a teenage father, they talk about how charming and talkative Danny is, how he pronounces words that are complicated for such a young child, and that fills him with pride.

He learns to sew and make clothes during the first six months Danny is in daycare, all because he's stingy. He wants Danny to be the best-dressed at every event where Danny needs to wear a nice outfit.

After his third charity event, as he finishes baking the muffins and the cookies are cooling, he realizes that despite everything—Danny goes to a private daycare, attends charity events, wears expensive clothes—his son is a rich kid destined for expensive schools. His son will never need a damn scholarship, he won't be like him, he won't know hunger or the slums. His son is literally a prince, he doesn't need street smarts because he doesn't even go outside! His baby will go to private schools, he'll join private school clubs, a privileged child who will never have to worry about money because he's a literal prince who will never be able to run out of wealth, nor could he make a dent in his own fortune in a thousand years.

My God, he was raising a Bruce 2.0, a rich kid oblivious to reality who will never understand a damn thing about what it's like to live with the worst possible hand. He'll grow up and he won't be able to grasp everything he went through either.

He ended up on the floor staring at the oven, the cookies, a mix of hysteria, pride, happiness, and terror.

Happy because he'd broken the cycle, but also feeling like a fraud because it wasn't something he'd earn, it wasn't his effort, he wasn't working! It was literally his trust fund that he'd stolen from Bruce, then stolen from other rich people like Selina taught him, and had stashed away on a tax haven island where the wealthy usually stash their money. Aside from receiving a ridiculous pension from Danny's personal funds, he was the richest young man in the entire solar system, and his baby was the richest kid in the whole damn dimension.

There's such relief in knowing his son can have a comfortable life, that he'll never have to fear food shortages, he'll never end up on the streets, he'll never be like Jason Todd, the street rat, prostitution will never be an option that crosses his mind when his stomach grows ravenous after days of scraping food from the garbage, he'll never have to steal, he'll grow up not like Jason, who will stay small because malnutrition ruined him forever.

But he's also terrified because they'll only be safe for 15 years and he's so unlucky. But risking Danny isn't an option.

John gets him a real magic teacher, Clockwork sends him the ghost of a martial arts master.

He knows there are rumors about him, because rich women have nothing better to do. Unfortunately for them, Alfred Pennyworth is a strict and rigorous etiquette master, and he was his father's "only" son.

High society can't touch him; he knows how to behave, he can talk about ridiculous topics that the rich always find amusing. The thing is, he doesn't need a personality like Brucie's. He maintains a perfect and distant demeanor, never revealing much about himself but keeping every little secret and piece of gossip to use.

There's an even crazier rumor that he's actually the illegitimate son of some very important member of royalty, that he had a child because of his free-spirited lifestyle, and that now he still has the money but not the potential status—he doesn't even care.

He learns more, trains more, continues taking online classes, trains by every means possible because time is passing.

He graduates, has another child he wishes he could have close by, and undertakes even longer training far from home.

Sometimes, when he has to go to the Infinite Realms for Danny's medical checkups, he spends more time there, trains more, learns more, relies more on the ghosts to take care of Danny, and seeks out every available teacher.

Until he eventually somehow returns to the life of a vigilante.

He crosses paths with Billy Batson—that's really his name—Captain Marvel, the goofy Captain Marvel, and decides to drag the kid home.

He knew it was inevitable, so he started getting more involved with Constantine's business. He's stopped suspecting the guy because his existence depends on Constantine protecting him and Danny, and he's improved a lot after his world tour.

At 23, he's introduced to Zatanna, who wants to know where he came from.

"I'm his nephew" he replies calmly. "One can't run from family business," although they never actually claimed to be blood relatives.

"How do you have a nephew if you don't have any siblings?" She complains

“They put me in charge of the brat and I could never get rid of him, Zee, he’s good at this.”

A giant red man appeared, as cheerful as the clumsy golden retriever he was. “Want to join?! It’ll be great having you out there!” Billy was very happy to have him; heaven knows Billy needs more support.

“Do you know him, Marvel?” Zatanna is less suspicious now, trusting the teenager with an adult body who doesn’t know what’s in front of her.

“Yes, it’s true. What name are you going by?”

“Red Star. Starfire was already taken, you know. And Red Hood has a bad reputation, even though everyone calls me that.” He lifts one end of the red hood he wears over his fake civilian clothes.

Although on the magical side of the world, “Red Hood” has no connection to the Joker, he’s still not at ease because of the reminder.

He just needs to get close to the clown and eliminate him.

They run more tests on him, of course, to welcome him to the group, which luckily doesn't have to report to Bruce. His English accent is good enough that no one suspects his identity, aside from his light brown hair.

The name, however… Nightingale, because he can't think of anything complicated enough, and it's the surname he's been living by.

Zatanna raises a questioning eyebrow. “Do you know what a disaster it would be if I went around with the surname Constantine? It's my real surname, so it's not that big of a deal.”

“I suppose you're right.”

“John already knows how I work and what I can help you with, so call me whenever you need me… one question, do you have any kind of insurance?”

“Not exactly, but yes, why?”

“There’s someone I need to protect.” Why settle for just Constantine’s magic? Billy was already working on his protection; having barriers from every magical being he could muster isn’t being overly cautious.

The invisibility will be lost; he’ll be left with only his own methods, and time is running out—15 years are ending.

__________

The thing about adults and children is that adults forget they were once children; they think children are stupid and never understand what’s going on.

Danny might say his dad is a strange combination of understanding that no child is stupid and that children don’t notice things. But that works for him.

His dad has always told him that children are their own brand of cruelty, a different kind of cruelty because they don't really understand the consequences or because they never face them, especially rich kids. His dad teaches him to be mean, in clever ways, because brute force is stupid; intelligence and agility, on the other hand, are a different path.

Adults are another kind of cruelty that bothers him more than children, because of the way they look at his dad, because of what he hears and whispers when he's too close.

They call his dad an irresponsible kid who was kicked out of the house and ended up with him, a baby raising a baby. Danny hates them.

His dad is stronger, he's incredible!

But he can't hide his fear. He looks at the calendar with strange feelings. He grows up, and his father becomes a little more worried, more fearful, more paranoid.

He asks Billy one day, his cousin remains silent for a while, wondering whether he should say something or not, but in the end he decided to tell him something.

“Maybe I’m overreacting, but I know Jay is trying too hard,” he began, a little uneasy. “Remember Sleeping Beauty?”

“Yeah, though I don’t really like it” he nodded.

“Well, Danny, you’re like Sleeping Beauty.”

“…Does that mean Dad isn’t my dad?!” he shouted in a panic.

“What?! No! Why did you think that?!”

“The princess is looked after by three fairies. Dad, Uncle Connie, and you all have magic, so you’re the three fairies!” he exclaimed, on the verge of tears.

“I promise you Jason is your biological father, your real dad” he said, hugging him. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean, Billy?!” He asked, growing more impatient, but Billy just sat him back down on the floor and sat down across from him.

“Look, the princess was cursed to die, but they managed to change that so she would sleep.” He nodded, waiting for Billy to continue. “Technically, you’re not cursed, but, um, you know how things always happen to me because I’m the champion of magic, or how many things happen to John too?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When you were a baby, the gods offered Jay and you a gift,” he said, using that mystical wizard tone. “You will be invisible to evil, bad luck, and calamity.”

“That’s not bad” he pouted.

“Only for a while” he punctuated. “This gift will end when you turn 15.”

“a like princesses?” he murmured, surprised.

“a like princesses” he repeated with a sad smile. “Jay knows that once you turn 15, many things could happen to you, so he’s been training, learning a lot, and working hard so that when that moment comes, you’ll be ready.” He can protect you. He doesn't want you to suffer, so he'll protect you because you're his greatest treasure, his baby, and he loves you very, very much.”

“But…who protects Dad?” I asked fearfully.

“Jay is amazing, Danny. Give me some credit too! I'll protect your dad, and your Uncle Connie as well. We're a family, and we protect each other, and we protect you.”

“Can I learn and help?”

“Oh, you will learn, but it's not time yet. Your magic will come in its own time, Danny. You'll be the best of all of us, and you'll be free.”

Maybe he is a bit of a fool, he was so used to strange things that he didn't question it much, but he really is a literal prince. Dad calls him Little Prince, Uncle Connie sometimes calls him "Little Majesty," and many ghosts call him by fancy titles.

It would actually be very strange if he weren't a little cursed, but he wants to learn, he wants to help, he wants to protect his family.

As he grows up, he notices Dad's nervous energy, as if he's afraid he'll lose him forever, so he tries not to leave his side.

Uncle Roy takes care of him when Dad has to train longer and away from home. Uncle Roy is much more laid-back than Dad; he calms him down in a way that Lian can't quite put into words. Lian is a few years older than him, but she's also funny.

"Damn it!" Uncle Roy exclaimed, picking him up, searching for something until he put one of his ugly caps on his hair, one of Lian's hoodies, and then dragged Lian to his room.

"Dad! What's wrong?"

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m scaring you kids,” he apologizes and puts him down. “I just need you to stay in here for a little while, okay?”

“But why?” Lian asks, annoyed.

“One of your many uncles is coming by unexpectedly and they can’t see Danny, okay? So, Lian, we’ll say Danny is the neighbor’s shy son and you can stay here for a while, okay? I’ll buy you ice cream.”

“Which of all my uncles?”

“Uh… Your Uncle Dickie.”

“But Uncle Dickie is the best! Why can’t Danny meet Uncle Dickie?” She asked, even more confused, while he was more nervous than he cared to admit.

“Your Uncle Jayjay would kill me, honey, so Danny is Linda’s son. His dad’s name is Roberto, and your dad’s name is Roberto now,” he told him, and he nodded.

Uncle Roy left them there, his stomach churning with anticipation.

“All my uncles are crazy,” he complained, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry, Danny, Uncle Dickie is great, but maybe he’s a bit too extreme for your dad.”

“Okay.”

“Uncle Dickie” still stops by to say hello to Lian, and he hides behind the first stuffed animal he finds so he can't see his face. After that, almost everything goes back to normal, although he can hear his dad on the phone, upset about how he shouldn't be near Dick. What a guy, his dad must hate that fellow.

When Dad returns and they can go home, his dad tells him about some things and people, perhaps because he knew something might happen if he didn't say anything. He has the impression it has something to do with Uncle Roy.

“I think you're old enough for me to tell you this, little prince.” Yes, his dad doesn't want to tell him any of this. “You have a brother.”

Well, Danny wasn't expecting that. “Are you going to have a baby?”

“I'm not going to have a baby. Why do you think that?”

“You've always said you gave birth to me,” as a joke that Billy, Uncle Connie, and Uncle Roy also make. “So, are you going to have a baby?”

“I already said I’m not having a baby,” he grumbled. “It’s…it’s all one of my brothers’ fault.”

“You actually have brothers? Do I have uncles?”

“Sort of…anyway, this is your brother.” He handed him a newspaper clipping.

“Dad, that’s Supernova.”

“Yes, that’s your half-brother.”

“Dad, Supernova is an alien!”

“It’s all your Uncle Tim’s fault!” he defended himself again.

“Dad, he’s too old!” He exclaimed, now he knows that 15 is too young to have a child, and Supernova was too old even to be his brother.

"It's Tim's fault!"

"Who the heck is Tim, Dad?!"

_____________A few years later.____

The situation has gone completely insane, more so than usual or expected in Gotham, which is saying something.

The Joker is dead, which should bring joy to the city and everyone involved, but it seems he's possessing the bodies of different people? He was a magical creature, who would have thought?

"I'm going to have to call for backup. It seems the Joker has transformed into something else," Zatanna said, seeing the body of the last victim they had in the cave.

"Who will you call?" Bruce asked, covering the body of the last man they had found.

"I don't think you know him because he's always in Europe or other parts of the world. He's related to Constantine, but believe me, they don't look alike," she reassured him, taking out her cell phone, sending a few messages, and soon there was a response, the last being a thumbs-up.

"Who is he?" Dick asked, explaining that while they knew all the members of the Justice League, there were some members of their magical counterpart who eluded them, much to his paranoia.

"Red Star, some call him Red Hood because of his clothes," she clarified "looks younger than he is, but he knows what he's doing. He's intelligent, sometimes a bit of a loudmouth, but he gets the job done."

A person appeared.

They understood why they called him Red Hood.

He wore a cape like Spoiler's, in a wine red with a black interior, combat boots that resembled claws at the toes, black cargo pants with many pockets, a utility belt like his own, the top part of which looked like a black Kevlar plate, a black leather trench coat, fingerless gloves, and curiously, his nails were painted in shades of blue. His face was covered with a kind of mask that only left part of his forehead visible. His light brown hair was a little long, and he had a slender build, more muscular than Dick, but shorter. He had a very small waist and larger thighs, even though his pants weren't tight.

"What's with that new clothing and that mask?" Zatanna questioned the man.

"Reinforced clothing and a gas mask. This is Gotham," was his reply. At least he was completely covered and seemed somewhat aware of Gotham. "What's the problem?" He glanced at them for barely a second. Yes, he really didn't look like Constantine.

"The Joker is dead" Steph announced.

"Congratulations?" he said, a little confused by the awful atmosphere.

“Somehow, he’s been possessing other people’s bodies, but he leaves them like this. We have a body here” Zatanna explained. Bruce, as serious as ever, analyzed the young man.

The young man allowed himself to be led by the sorceress and Batman to the body they had, muttering a curse upon seeing it.

“Your Joker is turning into a curse,” he announced with concern, her voice even filtering through the mechanical one.

“Can it stop?” Dick asked.

“What does that mean? And how?” Bruce demanded.

“It can be stopped. It will be difficult because it’s elusive. Its soul is too rotten and deformed. It was too much even for its own body. That’s strange” he began to explain, lowering the cloth again to cover the body. “It’s evil incarnate. It’s looking for a new body. When did it die?”

“August 16th,” Tim replied, looking at it, also analyzing, searching for information without taking his eyes off it.

He clicked her tongue, the mask returning the sound somewhat distorted. “It hasn’t fully transformed into a curse yet. We must stop it now before its transformation is complete, eliminate its soul, and purify everything nearby, urgently.”

“Whoa, eliminate its soul? That serious?” Steph commented.

“If its transformation is complete, it will be a curse. The Joker will never die. It will be like a parasite that takes over the body of an innocent person. If that new Joker dies, it will simply jump to another person. It will be worse with each new body. You won’t be able to separate the victim from it. It could be random or take the nearest body when it dies. The only thing human it will have is the body, but it is a curse, worse than a demon because it was created in life” he explained seriously. “It’s still too corrosive, that’s why the body looks like this. It burned the soul too quickly. It will keep jumping from body to body until it settles.”

“Can people be saved at this point?” Bruce questioned, not liking the idea.

"Maybe in the first three hours, but after that they'd just be empty shells, soulless, even if we removed them from the body."

"How do we destroy it?" Damian asked, happy that at least they could finally get rid of that clown.

"Zatanna and I will make you protective gear so he can't try to use you and other important people. How good are you with weapons and swords?" he asked, though he looked at Damian, specifically at his sword. "Do you have a sword you don't value that much? It could be destroyed" he warned him.

"Of course."

Red Star was efficient, very different from the elusive Constantine. He considered all possibilities, making more individual protective gear than anticipated. He asked for more weapons, gave them nets from his own stock, and suggested attracting the Joker's attention and guiding him as far away from people as possible, but not to an area with many animals, as it would be harder to capture. He asked them how skilled they were with the bow; the arrows wouldn't harm people, but would force the Joker to leave his host's body before he could damage their soul.

A sword was apparently more suitable for eliminating the Joker.

He explained what the protective gear was made of and what he would use to coat all his ammunition.

He removed part of his mask, leaving something resembling a domino mask at some point, at Alfred's insistence.

He greatly appreciate the tea and snacks.

"Why wear a cape and a trench coat?" Steph and Cass didn't waste any time, asking questions and pointing things out with innocent curiosity, like the use of the long red cape and the black trench coat.

"They're protections, you can never have too many when your uncle is Constantine," he replied easily. "The red cape makes me almost undetectable to demons or anything evil. If I take it off, the Joker will know I'm here."

"Wouldn't that help us more than looking for a decoy?" Damian questioned.

"It won't give us enough time. It'll just agitate him more. The Joker was unpredictable as a 'human' Joker. We don't need him even more agitated while he transforms into a curse," he answered, focused on his work.

"Do you happen to know how to time travel?" Tim's question confused everyone, even Red Star.

"I'd like to learn, just in case, but no, sorry. Maybe in 10 years? Although I don't recommend it, it's very complicated," he replied, puzzled. "I want to ask why?"

“Nothing, just curious.”

“Okay…” he nodded slowly and went back to what he was doing.

The others looked at Tim, but he kept an eye on the brunette.

They distributed all the protective gear, ensuring that those who received it couldn't remove it. They were armed, and an alert had been issued, even if it didn't offer much help.

The decoy was Jason's Robin cape. The Joker was frustrated, obsessed with not having managed to capture him. His fury only grew over the years because everyone knew Batman was more focused on finding his lost bird. He had tried to take the others at some point, but he knew it wouldn't be the same without the second Robin. He had searched for him on his own, had all of Gotham's villains looking for him because they now knew he was the biological son, along with the baby he had taken.

No one had succeeded.

So they would use the cape on a drone to deceive him, lure him into the trap, and ensure no one was in danger.

The Joker didn't disappoint. He gave chase until Nightwing shot an arrow into his leg, knocking him out of the person. Zatanna, who was with him, used a spell to prevent the person from hitting the asphalt. The Joker was too focused on what he thought was the second Robin. He jumped to the next body he could find. Red Star guided them to where he "sensed" the evil presence was going.

They kept firing arrows to knock him out of each new person.

At one point, the clown had tried a child, but Red Star didn't hesitate.

"Damn, dude! You didn't even hesitate!" Steph complained over the comms. Cass had stayed behind to check on her personally.

“They’re children, their souls burn more easily, more quickly. If I hesitate, it’s over for them,” he explained without apology. “If you hesitate, you’ll only leave empty bodies, and that’s worse.”

It was a powerful argument that silenced them so they could continue the pursuit.

But they were keeping an eye on that guy. He moved with ease across the rooftops, without a grappling hook. Platforms appeared beneath his feet when he needed them. There was incredible agility in his movements; neither the cape nor the trench coat hindered him.

The bow formed in his hands, just like the arrow when he fired.

Effective.

Dangerous, without a doubt.

They had to investigate him.

Everything was going well, perhaps too well, when Red Star stopped abruptly. Conner managed to prevent him from falling into the void. They rolled a little, but he caught him.

“What happened?! Why did you stop like that?!” Conner blurted out, but Red was looking away, just as the Joker lost interest in the cape.

“Why is he changing direction?!” Dick yelled.

“Why did it have to be now?!” Red blurted out. “Zatanna, Polaris!” he shouted, his voice filled with desperation. “Supernova, that way, quick! As fast as you can!” He pointed east.

Conner nodded, taking the magician.

“What’s going on?!” Dick yelled.

“Red has a son. His powers are starting to awaken” Zatanna said urgently. “We didn’t know he was going to manifest, but he appeared here from the other side of the planet.”

“Why is the Joker looking for him?” Tim asked, only noticing that Conner was changing direction, first one way, then the other, with no apparent purpose.

“He’s a kid with magic powers, a perfect body, he won’t burn, he’ll adapt, and being a kid, he won’t be able to fight him!” she said urgently, worried, pulling out her phone to call for backup.

Captain Marvel had appeared before she could even finish the call, flying quickly to try and find the boy.

Conner could feel Red’s desperation; he was getting so agitated because her son was appearing in so many different places.

A neon green note suddenly appeared on the back of the magician’s hand.

He was able to read it. “I can’t see where he’s going, he’s getting agitated, he’s looking for you.”

Red made a sound that must have been a gasp, murmuring “no, no, no, no” quickly.

Captain Marvel appeared flying beside her. “He disappeared!”

“What the hell happened?! What made him so agitated?!” He demanded to know.

“He had a nightmare. I tried to calm him down, I told him you were okay, but he remained restless, then he disappeared!”

“What did he dream? What did he say?”

“Something about a bomb and that they were hurting your neck.”

The man remained silent, still. “He saw me die.”

“You think he developed clairvoyance?!”

“Something like that,” he said seriously. “I’ll stop time. You’ll be able to move, you can catch him, and you can put him to sleep.”

“That’s going to kill you. We can still catch him first.” He refused.

“I can’t let him die too,” he said in pain, pressing herself closer to him. He felt he shouldn’t hear that.

“Can’t you do something to get his attention?” he asked, drawing the attention of the other two. “Maybe if he knows where you are, he’ll try to reach you, and his powers will try to bring him here.”

It was a powerful sound, an amplified whistle, with a specific tune, a ball of energy forming, almost like the sun.

A 10-year-old boy appeared closer; Barbara could see him on the cameras. He appeared and disappeared, running, stumbling, vanishing and reappearing to continue his run.

The Joker was also close; Damian had managed to catch him with a net, but it was burning.

The boy finally appeared as close as Red Star had calculated, trapping him.

"Ancient, don't do that again," he said, forgetting about communications.

"Dad, Daddy, Daddy, it's here, you die here," he said through tears, the voice of a desperate child, "you die here."

"I promise you won't, I promise you, not here, not now" he tried to calm the boy, who then collapsed into his arms. "Marvel, take him away," he removed his cape, wrapping it tightly around the boy.

“I’ll do it, farther away.”

“The Joker’s loose, guys!” Dick exclaimed over the comms. “He’s moving to the opposite side of the city.”

Marvel vanished quickly, not wanting anything else to happen to the boy.

“Does everyone still have their protective gear?” Zatanna asked.

“Shit!” Conner exclaimed. “I’m leaving town!”

“You can’t leave, Supernova!” Zatanna exclaimed.

Bruce was so close to Conner, he could have given him his, but he didn’t get a chance to say it. Red Star had appeared in the sky, and Conner caught him.

Red Star was without his trench coat, using it to cover Conner. He had removed part of his mask, just the domino.

Then Conner disappeared with the trench coat, and Red Star crashed into the street. He ran toward him and noticed that his brown hair was turning black, changing shape.

“Fuck” he groaned in pain. “Damn Gotham with its stupid curses” he complained, trying to get up. “I don’t belong to you.”

“Finally! I found you! You’ve been such a slippery little bird! You have no idea how long Uncle J has been looking for you.” The words came from the alley, a man, his skin turning white, his gaze crazed. “Robin!”

“You’re a disgusting pervert.”

The Crime Alley accent, the black hair with those unruly curls, standing there, he opened his arms.

He knew that malnutrition would prevent him from growing too tall, no matter how much food Alfred had given him, never so tall, nor so muscular.

“Come here. Do you want a body? Mine can handle hot stuff.”

He knew the Joker would get there before him; he saw him emerge from the body of some man he found, almost a mist of that toxic green that impacted his son’s chest. Although there was no movement to indicate that the Joker was dominating Jason's (adult!) body for a few seconds.

His movements were mechanical, as if it were a struggle for him to move.

"Disappear forever." A flaming sword appeared, he stabbed himself, the fire from the sword surrounding Jason.

The city trembled beneath his feet, the Joker's scream was heard, turning into a shriek, but the fire only intensified as the sword pierced deeper into his body.

Jason screamed and then…it was over. The sword disappeared, the fire extinguished so easily.

He was going to be furious if the magician had changed his appearance on purpose to use himself as a decoy.

There was silence, no more changes in appearance, only him breathing deeply, so close, he was there, finally there.

Conner appeared flying, that worried look on his face, staring at them, uncomprehending.

"Is it over?" he asked.

He realized he couldn't hear anything through the comms.

"Yes, eliminated for good," he nodded. Jason?looking at Conner "It barely fits you anymore" he commented, referring to the trench coat.

"Too long for me," he replied simply.

“Yeah, I guess so, I needed to get you a new jacket.”

“I have mine, thanks.”

“Just get down here,” he asked in that exasperated tone.

Conner still didn’t understand, but he did as he was told, and Jason hugged him. This confused Conner even more, and he gave Jason a nervous look, moving his lips as if to ask if he was okay.

No, he still hoped it was a lie. It couldn’t be that easy. That convenient.

“You’re really impressive for being 8 years old.”

“I’m not 8 years old.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t take it too. You had to grow up away from us.”

“Excuse me?” he blurted out, frowning, just as he saw Jason take off his dominoes. Having been exposed, his reaction was just as surprising and incredulous. “You are…”

“You really went with the Supernova theme. Your style is great. You even remembered the constellation” he said, stepping back again but taking in the entire suit.

“What? When did we meet before? How do you know about the constellation?” he asked nervously, perhaps shy because of the attention and his pride.

“It’s normal that you don’t remember, even though we talked a lot. Maybe I’ll show you later” he smiled. “For a moment I was worried that my genes might harm you because of Kryptonians’ weakness to magic, but it seems you have a bit more resistance.”

“I have genes with magic?”

“Yes, it just seems to skip generations and it’s random, but once one is present, it stays for a few more generations. B has a little of it, I have too much, your brother has a lot too, and you have a little as well, but the Kryptonian genes make it complicated” he explained easily, giving him another sudden hug, which Conner returned.

After a moment, they separated again.

“I’ll fight for custody. For now, I have to go.”

“You can’t leave!”

“Jason” he called to his son, who finally looked at him, his face always so expressive, though now he didn’t know how to interpret how he was being observed. It wasn’t annoyance; it seemed like pity and sorrow, or resignation.

“Don’t look for me” he said, disappearing.

Red Star was Jason, that was surprising; he had been there and then left. Zatanna was equally surprised by that revelation.

The response they received was that they hadn't seen Red Star pwithout the domino mask or something covering his face. His intentions had been confirmed, and his wish not to show his face was respected; the precedent was there, set by Bruce himself.

Batman knew everyone's identity, but it took years for them to learn who he was beneath the mask. Even today, Bruce had set the precedent that his identity wasn't revealed to just anyone. Some others had used that precedent to their advantage and revealed their identities in less time than Batman.

No one questioned Red Star, not when they had his real last name to use.

The change in hair color, his English accent, his gentle mannerisms weren't linked to Robin, especially since few people knew that the second Robin had disappeared or even existed.

For the vast majority of heroes, Tim was the Robin who followed Dick.

Even if they saw him, they didn't recognize him, and so no one warned him. Zatanna hadn't seen him without something covering his face, but she had seen Jason's son. She didn't make the connection either, because Nightingale was blond-brown and she thought he'd inherited his black hair from his mother.

The Dark Justice League knew "Polaris," the code name, an affectionate nickname for the little boy. Red Star was efficient and fast because everyone knew the man wanted to get back to his son quickly. A young father devoted to his son, worried about his education, his health, and his happiness, always seeking any protection, always blaming Constantine's fame and his own magic.

He was a reliable member, cared about people, was fierce when children were involved, could handle civilians very well, knew how to fight, and always had several tricks up his sleeve, not just magic. The Dark Justice League considered him the closest thing they had to a Batman without him being a jerk (for starters, the guy could communicate, joke around, but also get serious, and Batman made his own reputation). They could overlook the mask, easily forgiving some eccentricities because he always had healthy and tasty snacks, made delicious food, excellent tea, quietly cared for several members, and had a better personality than John Constantine. In fact, they deeply regretted being related, because, how unfortunate to be related to John Constantine.

The truth was that most tried not to call him too much because he seemed so young and had a son he loved; they didn't want to risk him.

They also kept him away from the Batman "paranoia."

He wanted privacy, and that's what he got from most of them.

His overprotectiveness of his son became self-evident when they realized Polaris was going to develop even more magic than his father. They all did their own things bordering on divination or prediction, and Polaris Nightingale was going to be a magical calamity.

But they could be angry with John Constantine for hiding it. The man knew and only helped to keep his distance.

Of course, he didn't answer anyone's calls.

Conner, on the other hand, didn't know how felt. He had heard more, been there, and Jason (his father!) had spoken to him.

"I can't let him die too." That's what he had said. He had clung to him. He thought it was vulnerability, cutting off something bad, but it was that he had died…

They had spoken before, but he didn't remember. All the ideas of "Supernova" had been in his mind after coming back to life, but Jason Todd knew them; the implication was obvious. So, did Jason Todd know he was his son and had brought him back to life? How?

Tim had a problem because he couldn't say exactly how they had met now that he knew "Magno" was Jason. He couldn't say anything because that was the price he had paid to save Bruce, and he didn't want to know how the Ghost of Time might punish him if he said anything. Jason had lied to avoid being so obvious, claiming a daughter instead of a son, but he had seen Jason's scarred body. Those must have been the scars that baby had. He didn't like realizing that.

He also didn't like that they had heard the child say that it was in Gotham where Jason died, and Jason seemed to know it.

A bomb and a wound to the neck, in Gotham.

Although he really wanted to know how Jason ended up learning magic and discovering that he had it. How did he end up by Constantine's side? Why had that guy agreed to keep up the lie? Jason had wanted to take Conner with him; he regretted not doing so.

But he was also worried because now he knew Jason owed his debts to time. How much time did he have left? What was he paying for? Was he even the Jason of that time, or the Jason of the future?

But now they had to wait for Jason to appear on his own, and that was worse.

______________

Jason Todd was the presence that haunted his father, his firstborn, the first child he adopted, his most beloved son.

Argued for a crime he didn't commit, fleeing to save an innocent person, he was gone.

After Morocco, there were no more leads on him.

His father's obsession, the case he refused to let go of, always searching for more clues, searching more and more, spending resources without a second thought, wanted his son back.

He had someone to focus his attention on, almost a substitute, Conner Kent, his grandson.

When he arrived at the mansion, he thought it would be easy. He would eliminate his father's stray dogs and take his place as his only biological son, his only heir…

The first thing he noticed upon arriving was the large portrait of another stray; the family portrait beside it didn't seem to stand out.

He also didn't understand why the alien clone of Superman was always in the mansion, or worse, how in the family wing it was in the family portrait next to his father.

Drake and Kent had revealed the truth to mock him.

He wasn't the firstborn, not even the heir to anything. Jason Todd was a Wayne, his father's son, his firstborn, his most beloved son, and Conner Kent was his father's grandson, Jason's son.

Bruce Wayne took Richard Grayson as his ward, not his adopted son, not until after he was an adult. His firstborn was Jason Todd; there were even rumors about how much they looked alike when they wore matching outfits to galas. Brucie adopted his own son to cover up the scandal. There was no information about the mother, and they looked so much alike; some even said Jason resembled Thomas or Martha Wayne.

He had to inform his mother of this discovery. Neither his grandfather nor his mother could find Jason Todd, but his mother confirmed that Conner Kent carried Wayne blood.

Drake had felt a condescending pity for him. Bruce would always care more about Jason, Damian. You won't win.

He had been furious about it…but Drake was right.

He had done his own research; many of the images of Jason came from Drake, and the discovery that Conner Kent was connected to Jason was Drake's.

Drake had that strange expression on his face when he caught him looking at the information.

You know, I discovered Batman and Robin's identities when Dick was still Robin. I followed them at night, wanting to take more pictures.

Then Jason became Robin, the Robin of Gotham. Dick was the original, but he wasn't as attached to Gotham. For Jason, it was personal, unlike Bruce and Dick, who started this for revenge and justice. Jason started because he grew up in Crime Alley. Gotham was his people; there was no other reason.

I spent years taking pictures of Jason and Bruce. Jason had this gift of making him laugh so easily… I would recognize that smile, and Conner had it.

You shouldn't waste your time trying to be Bruce's favorite. No one can be Jason. Save yourself the pain.

But he wasn't going to give up easily.

Then Drake's parents died.

Then Conner Kent died.

He should have been happy about it; his competition was dead. But he hadn't considered how Kent's death would affect his father or the others.

Brown had once told him that his father was a possessive person.

His father had to fight with the Kents to get Conner buried in Wayne Cemetery.

It was incredible how father and son could haunt the mansion with their absence.

It was striking to realize that Drake was too much like his father in his possessiveness and obsessiveness.

Richard was so worried about Drake when they lost his father, but Drake was gone.

Even without Drake around, he realized that grandfather, father, and son all had an innate talent for tormenting so many people.

A short time later, his grandfather and mother had been murdered; his entire legacy, his whole family, everything he had known before arriving at Wayne Manor was gone without much explanation.

He wondered if it was a lesson from Karma, somehow mocking Drake's instability for losing his neglectful parents, Kent and Impulse, and finally his father.

Then he lost his father, his mother, his grandfather, and his entire past life forever.

Richard, despite being a great support to him, couldn't hide his relief that his mother was dead. His own mother hated Richard and had told him it was mutual.

He lost everything.

So for a few months things worked without his father, and with Drake mourning Jason and Conner, there was a glimmer of hope. Richard was less obsessed…

And then Drake returned with his father alive, that look of “I was right.”

Then Kent had risen from his own grave. Supernova was barely close to Superman, but now closer to the birds of Gotham, with that constellation and that Eagle eyepatch.

He realized he regretted that his father was alive. That he would have preferred his mother to come back to life. He really was an Al Ghul. A demon.

His family took a little longer to return to a “normal” rhythm… The Joker died, and Red Star appeared.

He was dangerous, he was competent, and he was Jason Todd.

Perhaps that was what he hated most, that in the end he had been alive all this time, for 10 years, oblivious to how his existence forever marked the Wayne family. A son who looked at his father with something akin to disgust. A son with powerful magic whose own son would be a calamity.

He inherited the best of the Wayne blood.

His father confessed that he once tried to learn magic; it might have been good, but his own personality, his inner demons, would attract more darkness. For the safety of the world, Bruce Wayne didn't formally learn magic, although he knew several tricks. He knew there was magic in the Wayne blood.

He was proud of his beloved son.

Now they knew that his father's first grandson had gained clairvoyance and the ability to teleport. Jason Wayne died in Gotham and didn't seem surprised, as if he already knew.

Jason Wayne had somehow brought Conner back from the dead, whom he didn't reject as his son.

And now he was there, at the door with Wonder Woman, Superman, and Constantine.

He looked small among them.

He stood out because of his long black coat. They looked at him from outside, undoubtedly analyzing him.

Pennyworth grips the door tightly.

“My boy” the butler’s strangely vulnerable voice softens Todd’s annoyed expression; in fact, it becomes much gentler.

“I’m so sorry I worried you so much, Alfi.” He easily stepped forward to embrace Pennyworth.

They shared that embrace, which seemed so intimate.

“Oh, master Jason, I’ve missed you so much, my boy. No one appreciates the theater as much as you do.”

“I’ve missed it so much when we used to spend time together, Alfi.”

“Are you staying?” he asked.

He made an awkward face. “I’m sorry, Alfi, I can’t stay in Gotham, but I can explain why. I need to have a conversation with B, Dick, Conner, and you.”

“That explains why you’re so well accompanied, boy.”

“Yes.”

Dick still can’t believe Jason is there, across the room between Constantine and Clark. He also can’t believe that Jason actually seems to not want Bruce around, even though this is obviously breaking Bruce, who is busy glaring at John, who, to his credit, doesn’t even seem to care. In fact, he avoided the hug Bruce wanted to give him.

Conner, beside him, was more nervous about being there. It seemed Jason was serious about fighting for Conner's custody, which was the only reason he could think of for Clark being there. He also looked very lost, in the sense that he hadn't expected to be there.

Diana was the only one who seemed ready for battle. The room they were in had been soundproofed, the door closed, leaving their other siblings outside, unable to hear what he knew was upsetting them greatly.

"I asked Aunt Diana to help mediate the situation, and also to use her Lasso of Truth. There's a lot to talk about," Jason began, looking as if he didn't want to be there. He shifted uncomfortably. "Before that… there are some things I wanted to hand over."

Bruce didn't seem able to speak; he just nodded. Jason did the same, making some things appear because, of course, magic. The most obvious was a large box with a red ribbon and two black folders underneath.

First, he handed the box to Conner, and finally, he gave the folders to Bruce and Alfred.

Bruce didn't waste any time, staring blankly at whatever was inside. He looked at Alfred's folder and opened it more slowly. His eyes widened. A diploma, from Oxford, a Master's in Early Childhood Education from Oxford! And Jason used to say he was the golden boy. My God, Jason came back and brought two Oxford diplomas! The only thing missing is for me to mention some high-born wife too!

"You're a lawyer" Bruce murmured with such feeling.

"Yes, although I still want a PhD in literature, but maybe I'll do it at Cambridge later," he replied as if it were nothing. Damn it, Jason!

Alfred practically snatched the black folder from Bruce and handed him his own. “This one should interest you more, Master Bruce” he said.

Bruce looked like a kicked dog when Alfred took Jason's law degree from him, but now he seemed to be crying as he stared at the early childhood education diploma. He even let out a small “oh.”

He looked at Conner instead. He couldn't imagine any other degree in that box.

There were two leather jackets. Although one had star details that seemed shinier, it was almost identical to the one Conner already wore, which confused him a little.

“They have protective sigils behind the lining, they’re sewn with special threads, I’ve had them blessed by every god I’ve come across. You literally can’t die while wearing them; you’re still somewhat vulnerable to magic, and this will protect you. The blessings are blood-bound because that’s the special nature of magic.”

The second was a shorter jacket, though it had studs that formed more constellations, some of which didn’t make sense. It looked like Braille, which confused them.

“What does it say?” asked his nephew/brother.

“I heard that guy didn’t give you a Kryptonian name,” he pointed at Clark, who almost choked on his breath. “I don’t know if you want it, so I put it in Braille.”

“What is it?” he asked, staring intently at Jason, making that little anxious lip-biting tic.

“Kaile-All doesn’t have an exact tradition since it’s like part of a poem or something similar to a Kryptonian poem, but it refers to a diamond or crystal bird, about how light refracts in each of its feathers, a bird that brings happiness. And the surname is your great-grandmother’s maiden name. She was the only ghost I found who was a direct relative, so in a way, your great-grandmother also approved of the name.”

Conner blinked, trying to hold back tears, looking at the tacks, smiling nervously. “I like it, I really do. Thank you.”

“Everyone deserves a name, Conner, and I’d like to see someone try to argue that with your dead great-grandmother.”

Conner laughed nervously, and Jason returned to his place next to Clark, who looked uncomfortable.

“Why didn’t you come home?” Bruce asked.

Jason extended his hand to Diana, who untangled her lasso, taking one end.

“I figured out how I die. I die in Gotham. It’s always in Gotham. My life is in danger if I stay. But it was also difficult to come back. At first, I didn’t know if you wanted me back.”

“I’ve been looking for you. I never stopped. This is your home. It always has been your home.”

“You kicked Dick out. You told me I wasn’t your son. You literally said, ‘I don’t have time for your teenage drama. You’re not my son,’” he blurted, looking critically at Bruce. “You didn’t take back your words. In fact, you just kept saying how a father was willing to avenge his son like José Garzonas did. You didn’t even believe me. You thought I was a murderer. You were in Ethiopia, but not because of me. You weren’t looking for me. You were after the Joker. If Sheila hadn’t been in cahoots with the Joker at that time, if she had been in another country, you wouldn’t have found me. You weren’t there for me, even though I left a note and even flew there on a commercial plane. My trail was so obvious I didn’t bother to hide it, and honestly, I was surprised you didn’t find me the first year,” he said, as if all of that didn’t bother him at all, when it was obvious it did.

But now he’s looking indignantly at Bruce. Of course it bothers him! He told the codependent, abandonment-prone kid he wasn’t his son—he abandoned him first! He’s had the nerve to play the victim for ten years! My God, that’s why Jason didn’t try to come back! Although he wants to know how Bruce found out he was dying, first he’ll glare indignantly at Bruce.

“I… I didn’t mean it, I was just upset.”

“So you said the most hurtful thing you knew you could say to me, hitting me where it hurts most, and then you never did anything to apologize. You never called me ‘son’ again. You avoided me because you were depressed thinking about how you supposedly failed me, because I became a murderous criminal like Willis, when you thought you could save me.”

“What the hell, Bruce?” he blurted out, even more indignant.

“I could actually cast a spell so we all see your best moments as a father, the ones I remember, and then yours,” he snorted.

Bruce remained silent. Alfred didn’t defend Bruce, which was also surprising.

“You were my whole world, but the moment I was ‘too’ emotional, I was a problem. ‘Too emotional,’ ‘too aggressive,’ ‘too reckless,’ ‘too resentful,’ ‘too troublesome.’ That’s rich coming from the man who dresses like a flying rat who beats up criminals because 'I am the night, I am vengeance.' What a mess he makes of all the messed-up people he can find, with an adoption problem, possessiveness, pride, a hypocrite, half puritan and half slut.”

“Master Jason!”

“Talia, Selina, Pamela, Harley, Harvey, the Riddler, Ghostmaker, Clark, Lois, Oliver, Dinah, Hal, the commissioner, some other women you kissed on different cases, the undercover missions as a stripper, Vicky Vale, Vicky Vale Bruce! I still remember her leaving in the morning with marks.” He trembled at the thought. “Those are the ones I remember. I don’t want to know about the ones that came after.”

“Why do you remember all those people?” Bruce asked, mortified.

“Because some people wanted to be my stepmothers or stepfathers, but none of them were Aunt Diana. But then I realized that Aunt Diana could only be Aunt Diana because she deserves someone better. She wouldn't date someone like you.”

“Actually, we did try it once,” Diana commented, amused, much to Bruce's mortification.

“I don't blame you for not staying. You once dumped me to hook up with Selina in the Batmobile, and I had to walk back to the mansion myself.”

“Why do you remember that?” he asked again, visibly distressed.

“Because you didn't even give me money for a taxi! My communicator was left inside the Batmobile, so I couldn't call Alfred, and you didn't call him either! It's a long walk from the Diamond District to Bristol! I had an exam the next day, and I almost got a B because of you!”

“I’m sure you apologized for that.”

“Yes, because I complained and asked you for my own motorcycle so you wouldn’t leave me stranded again, and you did!”

“I didn’t need to know all that,” Conner muttered, equally red-faced and embarrassed.

“Actually, I’ve always been surprised you don’t have more biological children out there, but I guess fertility problems run in families, too.”

“Master Jason, please.” Alfred seemed scandalized, but now he didn't know if it was because of the topic, the insinuation to Bruce, or something else.

Jason just shrugged. The little bastard was getting away with it. Perhaps he was more surprised that Bruce was allowing all of this, a mixture of mortification and joy, because somehow, he seemed to be crying tears of happiness at being the target of this whole embarrassing situation, because he was Jason.

Clark was trying not to react. Constantine wasn't even trying to pretend he wasn't enjoying himself, just like Diana. That eased the tension.

“Do you know you're my son?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, I found out years later, through office gossip at the Watchtower.” His expression was one of distress.

“But you haven’t been to the Watchtower” Diana commented.

“But John has, and Marvel too, but he didn’t want to tell me anything because he didn’t want to spread the rumor to someone who didn’t even know anyone involved. But it seemed like he was about to explode. Then John came to my house and told me, ‘You have a child with Superman.’ Besides, the Watchtower is still easy to hack when you know something about the system, so I was able to access the information and freak out because of this whole situation with Willis.”

“Did it bother you?” The question came from Conner.

“I can’t lie to you,” he literally said, still holding the Lasso of Truth. “It was a shock to find out I had a kid with my adoptive father’s weird friend. That bothered me the most.”

“I’m not weird,” Clark defended himself weakly.

“You’re Bruce’s ‘friend,’ you slept with him, then you and your wife slept with him, you’re like his work wife, which is still a pretty weird concept, he’s technically the grandfather of the kid we share, and when you try to explain it, it sounds like you’re a bully, because I’m sure few people know I’m a cis man, so it’s Superman got a 15-year-old girl pregnant who’s Batman’s son, so I bet there are some pretty crazy rumors going around about that.”

“So…it just bothers you that the rumors are about you being a pregnant teenager who was dumped…?” Conner seemed more confused. “Not the part about finding out they used your genetic material without permission to create me as a weapon? Being a clone?”

“They can ‘clone’ a body but not a soul. Even if you were all Clark or all me, your soul and my soul aren’t the same. You are you. You’ll never be Clark. You’ll never be me because you’re Conner. You are you. Even another ‘you’ from another dimension wouldn’t be this ‘you.’ If another you made a deal with a fairy, it couldn’t take you. Every soul is different. Your soul is different. If you were in another body, you’d still be you. Genes don’t matter much,” he replied casually.

“Oh.”

“The only thing I regret is finding out too late and not being able to take you.”

“You wanted to take me? Just like that?” he asked, moved.

“Yes, I was planning it, but there were many more people who loved you: Jonathan and Martha Kent, Lois Lane, your Young Justice team, everyone here, especially my Successor. You weren't alone. There were at least four decent adults” he explained.

“Only four?”

“Jonathan, Martha Kent, Lois Lane, and Alfred. Of course, I heard Clark didn't step forward, so I stopped counting,” he said calmly. “I was on a long mission, so when you died, I didn't find out until later.”

“How did you bring me back? Was it you? You had something to do with it. How?”

Jason was silent for a moment, looking at the lasso. It wasn't as if he was trying not to say it, which is why he hadn't reacted. “I have connections. It wasn't certain you'd come back, but I had to try,” he replied.

“You didn't sell your soul, did you?” Bruce asked, worried.

“No, my soul is mine. In my line of work, rarely does anyone want a soul. I fought for it, and that’s why I got those clothes,” was his entire explanation.

He bit his lip. There was something he wanted to know personally, even if he thought he wouldn’t like the answer. “Did you ever think of calling me for help?”

Jason looked at him. “Yes, I thought about it several times. I memorized your number. I wanted to call you a few times, but I didn’t.”

“Why? It would have helped.”

“When you went to Bludhaven, you did it without Bruce’s money. I was going to do the same. I understood, but pride won’t feed a baby. Pride doesn’t pay for a roof over your head, clothes, or food for a baby. And honestly, I didn’t know if you were even on the planet, if you’d answer, if you’d be willing to help me with a baby I didn’t want to be separated from.”

“Oh…”

“You were different back then,” he said gently. “I thought about going back in the first few days, because of Polaris, but I knew what it would look like. At first, I didn’t know he was my son. I thought he was my brother. Can you imagine? If I had gone back when we did the tests and they showed I was his biological father, it would have been worse. Bruce would have been worse, everything. When I found out he was my son, I knew I couldn’t go back. I didn’t know how to explain it. I wanted to know, but the risk wasn’t worth it.”

“You know, I find it incredible that you would have left everything for a baby that was put in front of you,” Conner commented. That had always surprised him.

Jason didn’t seem to give it much importance. “Even if it hadn’t been my child, I would have done it.”

“How did you end up with Constantine?” Bruce had taken his time asking that question; his tone and gaze made it clear he hated the man.

“He was working on something, and we ended up getting involved. It turned out he had a talent for magic, and the thing he was hunting was looking for bodies to possess. We're too ‘valuable.’ In Gotham, I didn't have any problems because it's a different level, but I always took risks when I went out. Now it's…problematic. This is where I die. I know at whose hands.”

“We could look for solutions for that, measures, plans,” Bruce began.

“The only solution is for that person to die, Bruce,” he replied with a sad expression. “But that won't happen. I don't wish for their death either. The thing about prophecies is that they always find a way to fulfill themselves. Polaris, Sky, and Conner are still too young. I can't die.”

“Who is Sky?” Bruce asked, unsure what to say in the face of the truth that lay before him.

“I guess I found my own orphan who didn’t need a father, but did need a family. We’re like cousins or brothers ” was all he could explain.

“You know the person who will kill you, but you don’t hate them. Is it an accident? They cause an accident, and you die?” Conner questioned.

But Jason shook his head, smiling for some reason. “They cut my throat” he said, as if amused, as if it were normal to know that. “Although now that the Joker is gone, things have changed, but I still die at their hands. I know the reason, too. I can come back, but it’ll be a few years.”

“Don’t ask him who they are,” John said for the first time in all that time. “It’ll ruin things, and there are a lot of things to explain.”

“How do you know that killing that person will keep you safe? There are other things we can do,” Bruce insisted.

“Because I came back to Gotham when that person wasn’t on the planet. There are other things to take care of before we talk about that.”

Jason had loosened the lasso every time he sensed that Bruce or one of them would ask to know the identity of that person.

He wanted to spend time with Conner, visit him in Smallville, in Metropolis, even in San Francisco. If he needed help with magic, he could call him. He'd also have a way to get to Jason's house and meet his other brother and "cousin."

He would only go to Gotham if it was safe. They didn't need to receive him at the mansion; he didn't want to cause any more disturbance than he already was. He was interested in a relationship with Tim, curious about him specifically and about some of the other children.

He agreed to visit him in Bludhaven.

Although he was very strict with the schedule because he was so involved in his son's school life, and Polaris would only come if he wanted to, though he hinted that it might not be soon due to the clairvoyance she had awakened, and it was best not to expose him to Gotham.

He also didn't want to be Jason Todd again; it was better that he not be seen again, that he remain out of the public eye for at least another 30 years.

It was a back-and-forth between Clark, Jason, Bruce, and Conner, whom Jason always asked if he agreed to the arrangements. When they reached a conclusion, Constantine had produced the contract, which almost everyone read. There was no binding magic involved, and it wasn't even legally binding since it wasn't public knowledge that Conner wasn't with Lex and that Jason wouldn't return to his old identity. It was just a clandestine agreement between all parties to ensure there was no doubt about what had been agreed upon, with Diana, Constantine, Alfred, and himself as witnesses: Diana as Clark's witness, Alfred as Bruce's, Constantine as Jason's, and himself as Conner's.

It seemed like a bad idea because Jason was a lawyer, but they carried on for what seemed like an eternity.

Then Jason asked Clark, Alfred, and Conner to leave the room, but told him to call Tim.

He had no idea why Jason wanted to see Tim. He was getting nervous. When the doors opened, he saw all his brothers, some more annoyed at not being able to spy, and others more worried.

Tim had that look on his face as if he were entering an important W.E. meeting, or a war room, which was practically the same thing to him.

The room was sealed again. A new tension filled the place.

"What's the situation?" he asked seriously.

"Hey, Successor," Jason greeted wearily. He had noticed it: when Jason spoke of Tim, he called him that. He didn't know if it was really some affectionate nickname or just a more distant way of referring to him.

But it had an impact on Tim, confusing him for a fraction of a minute, just long enough for Jason to notice and smile.

“I can’t stay in Gotham because I’ll be killed here by the same person. The only way I can return is if that person dies, or if at least 30 more years pass before I’m safe” he explained, conjuring a cliché crystal ball. “Previously, my death was triggered because the Joker was involved, but even now that his soul has been eliminated, I’ll still be killed by the same person.”

“Okay, so why am I here?” The question wasn’t asked because Tim was puzzled, but because he was wondering why it was relevant, what the real reason was for him being there instead of Alfred. He hoped Jason wouldn’t be offended by it.

“Connie’s here for my moral support, Diana’s here as insurance, Dick’s for the protection of the others, and you’re here because you’re a better detective than Bruce, plus you’re more practical. It’s best if the two of you have this information.”

“Is that all?”

“You have a little more information” he replied without looking at the crystal ball, sighing. “I found out about Conner’s and Bruce’s deaths very late. I was on a long mission because that year I was eliminating a type of demon that only I could handle” he began his explanation. “So I started pulling strings to remedy the situation. You met a man who owed me a favor. He helped you get to Bruce. There was a price.”

“That I could never speak of it while I lived.”

He was as surprised as Bruce by this information.

“I took it upon myself to try to bring Conner back. I think you realized it, but you couldn’t talk about it or investigate.”

“I even noticed it in Impulse.”

“Ah, he was a little more difficult, actually, but I just had to guide him in the right direction. Yes.”

“There was a price. That’s what worried me. Does what you have in that crystal ball have anything to do with that?” he question.

Jason took the lasso again. “No, the price is different, but I think you already know what it is.”

“Yes, I can imagine, though I wonder if it’s really enough.”

“I got two ‘blessings,’ one of them from that person, the one you met.”

“I didn’t get that impression.” Now Tim seemed a little annoyed.

“Oh, he’s a real rascal who likes to have fun, but we’re stuck with each other,” he laughed, though that didn’t seem to amuse Tim. “I received a blessing from space, which included a name. I was granted the surname ‘Nightingale’ for my children and me. Because much of magic uses a bloodline, I can only use it on a few people, hence why almost everything I do has to do with space.”

“Supernova would fit into that” he commented, surprised.

“Yes, Polaris, my son inherited more of it, the boy I adopted as a cousin has a protection I call Sky, and I got Nightingale.”

“But the blessing won’t save you from your killer.”

“No.”

“You can come back in 30 years. That means this person might die in 30 years, or they might no longer be capable of harming you, so it can’t be someone young.”

Jason nodded at Tim’s words. “I don’t hate this person, nor do I wish them dead. I can never really understand why. No matter what I do, the prediction doesn’t change their ending. In other lives, I can almost understand why they do it, but things change so much, and I don’t want to understand it. Sometimes death would have been a better option. I don’t know if I hate the things they can do to me even if I live, or if it would be better to just die.”

“What kind of person is this?”

Jason pondered his words for a minute. “I know his lineage. I’ve seen his mother fill cemeteries when her mind breaks. I’ve seen her bitter, using her brilliant mind to manipulate Gotham as her stress-relief toy. I’ve seen his father shatter with grief and rage. I’ve seen him lose everything, yet still love, even killing the woman he loved. I’ve seen him bend and orchestrate deaths because he considers his son weak… I’ve seen them live, die, even in a world where none suffer, yet still ruling through crime, a different kind of monster. I’ve seen my killer in a world where I died before, yet he still becomes a different monster. Even if he doesn’t take anyone’s life, he becomes a monster. I’ve seen him die of old age amidst the ruins of his life… I’ve seen him kill me, and it’s not my murder that makes him a monster… His problem is always me, perhaps because I know him too well.”

They pieced it together easily, all of them in the room, though disbelief lingered on their faces.

“It can’t be me.”

“It’s always you, Bruce” he says sadly. “Sometimes I thought, ‘Fine, let him do it,’ but I have children who need me. I hate that it’s always you.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would Bruce do that? He couldn’t hurt you!” he exclaims, unable to understand.

“Bruce doesn’t kill because he knows the kind of monster he is. He could never stop. It’s not really because he believes everyone can be redeemed; the truth is, he knows that if he does, he won’t be able to stop. He’s a danger. His code is because he knows what he’s capable of and he fears it. But even without killing, he becomes a monster,” he declared confidently. “He can be very kind to other people, always helping, always defending. He can give every ounce of hope he has to strangers. That’s why people rarely notice, because he’s still Batman, fighting for justice and managing to make children smile, keeping them safe. But”

He wanted to keep defending Bruce, but Jason wasn't wrong.

“He can become so insensitive in Gotham, he can never understand it, and then he stops being Bruce and becomes more and more Batman every day. You stop being a father and just focus on the mission. Your children will die, and you'll keep going. You won't stop until you die or are old enough to fight, and you'll be bitter about it. You risk every child you have. You say you love them, but never enough. The moment your code is on the scales, everyone else ceases to matter.”

“You're very sure of that,” Tim said, “even though you haven't been there for 10 years.”

“But I wasn't wrong,” he defended himself with that smile, looking at Bruce, who had remained silent. “Hey, Bruce, I have some questions.”

The atmosphere was still so tense, but Bruce moved stiffly to take the other end of the lasso, determined to prove Jason wrong.

“When was the last time you told any of your children you loved them? What, you love them? You were proud of them? When was the last time you spent time with any of them that wasn't related to Batman?"

His stomach sank. He hadn't really thought Jason would ask that. Bruce was speechless. The lasso didn't react because it wasn't as if he was avoiding saying it, but it still glowed.

"When Conner came back to life, I told him I loved him."

"That's your grandson, Bruce. I asked about your children."

"I don't remember, but I love them."

"You love them, but I don't think they know it. Didn't you tell my Successor that you were proud of him? He was the only one who was convinced you were alive. If it weren't for him, you'd still be in the past. He looked for a way to bring you back, even though everyone called him crazy. You owe him your life, and did you even thank him?"

“I’m sure I thanked him for saving me.”

“Maybe you were too subtle” he commented.

“You said you found out late about Bruce and Conner’s deaths, but you pulled some strings so I could bring Bruce back. I imagine that while I was trying to save him, you went back to Gotham. But also, if you know Bruce is the person who always kills you, bringing him back is counterproductive. You helped me bring him back when you could have gone back to Gotham.”

“That person told me too, I could go back to Gotham. Alfred and Dick needed help here. That was the option: to leave Bruce behind in time and then bring him back when he was old enough.”

“But you didn’t. We wouldn’t have known how you could have helped that way. You would never have been judged for leaving him behind. You would have come back like the prodigal son, using an excuse for years that you were trying to bring him back, and then you would bring him back. You would have been the hero. But you didn’t,” Tim pointed out precisely.

“He’s Dickie’s father, Alfred’s son…is also my father” was his entire reply.

“Even though he’s the one who’s killing you.”

“As long as I’m the only person he kills, I guess it’s okay.” He dismissed it as if he’d made peace with that knowledge.

“Honey” John seemed to hate that response, as if he’d heard it many times before, an old argument.

“Why is he killing you?” Tim continued questioning, more composed than the rest of them, practical as always.

“Because of his code, because even if he’s unconscious, he sees us as an extension of himself. He’ll say it’s because he doesn’t want us to have to make that decision, but even if they did it to save themselves, something inside his head would still break. The funny thing is, he can let you kill without major consequences, but if I do it, it makes me his biggest failure. I don’t even hesitate with Felipe.”

“You wanted him dead” Bruce pointed out.

“Yes, I actually regretted not doing it. Then all the contempt, everything between us, would have been worth it. Even if I hated that it didn’t separate us, but I didn’t actually kill him. I wanted to kill him, and it’s something you never understand—not the motive, it wasn’t out of rage, it was frustration.”

The admission left Bruce paralyzed, Tim less so, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Justice in Gotham is a joke. If it existed, things could have been different. Dick’s parents died, but they didn’t let him go off with the circus, with those people. The ones he grew up with, but they sent him to reform school because there was no order in the system. Batman handed children over to the system for years without knowing it was a child sex trafficking ring. Even though many children said they didn't want to enter the system, even despite the efforts, it's still a problem. Because the Waynes were murdered in Crime Alley, Batman never goes there. He abandoned thousands of people for years. Even I, when I was Robin, didn't like me going there."

"We're not—"

"Judge, jury, and executioner. If you did that, the police would have to go after you too. Batman can't kill, but Batman won't save the city. All these crooks appeared after Batman. I don't know how to completely save the city, but the system has to change or improve. There's no right answer. Even if you killed all the criminals, it wouldn't be right."

"Have you killed anyone?"

"I kill demons, Bruce, just as you can kill vampires, magical creatures, and aliens without a problem, even though many of them have sentience, consciousness, and intelligence. But I know that one day I will have to cross the line. I am a different kind of monster than you. I prefer to be a monster that hunts others. Magical matters are different from yours. If I can save people, then any trick is valid."

“Even if Bruce kills you, you should have a way to defend yourself. You could just kill Bruce, curse him, keep him away” Tim argues.

“I’d like to avoid the trauma of digging my own grave with my bare hands. It’s bad enough that Conner had to go through that, though a lot of those things are lost.”

“Lost what?”

“For example, the Lazarus Pits are gone, but that was Ra’s al Ghul’s own stupidity.”

“What do you know about that?” Bruce asked with interest. Dick personally wasn’t losing any sleep over it, and he almost didn’t want to know.

“An acquaintance of mine told me that a demon made a deal and stole something in exchange. I should try to recover the object, though it was almost certain it had already been used,” he replied easily. “It even seems he handed over a way to create more, which led to all the pits being affected and everything being lost.”

“What object?” Bruce questioned

“There’s a magical substance that escapes from dimensional rifts that occasionally open naturally. It looks a lot like Lazarus Water, but after a process, it transforms into something else. In theory, with a lot of effort, you can use Lazarus Pits to create them, but they aren’t the same; they only seem to be. Fool’s gold and gold aren’t the same,” he said ironically. “Actually, they react with each other. In the right proportion, they don’t do much, but the potion is stronger. It beats Lazarus Water. It reacts by devouring the Lazarus Water, altering it, and it explodes. From what I could see, all the bases had orders to throw the potion into the pit without knowing that this caused the main base to explode.”

“What did Ra’s originally want the potion for?” Diana decided to ask this time, even though she had remained on the sidelines throughout the whole affair.

“After hitting that demon, he said that Ra’s wanted immortality, as always, but he unknowingly offended the demon. The potion could actually grant him immortality or something similar. The trick was that they told Ra’s he had to pour the potion into the well, and then—boom!”

“Only that way,” Constantine confirmed, bored with the topic.

“Only that way. Ra’s must have tested the potion in small quantities, which worked. Then he must have used it all in his largest well and on himself. Then the reaction affected everything and everyone. The sites have traces of magic, but it’s so volatile that wandering around there is like walking through a minefield. I left that report with Aunt Diana, but I asked her not to tell you because I wanted to tell you personally.”

“I see” was all Tim said.

“Now, don’t panic. Nothing you see will be real, but someday it could be.” He left no room for further questions as he simply dropped the crystal ball.

______________________

When he finished watching each version of the murder, he was left with a blank space, Jason right in front of me.

“You could have lied even though you were holding the Lasso of Truth” he reproached.

“I didn’t lie completely. I only kill demons. The League of Assassins used to be servants of the devil and were ruled by the al Ghul,” was Jason’s only reply, a technically true statement, just as Bruce had taught them to circumvent Wonder Woman’s lasso.

“Technically demons,” he snorted. “And what was that explanation for?”

“Something I did in another timeline actually happened, so I wasn’t lying. That’s where I got the lapis lazuli. That’s what happened too. The lapis lazuli reacted with the well and washed everything away. Nobody asked if there was a confrontation.” He shrugged. “That way, suspicion stays off us.”

“The Time Ghost gave you all these visions of Bruce killing you.”

“It’s his way of saving me, because he insists that being near Bruce hurts me, and also to prevent something worse.”

“What could be worse?” Tim asked. Many of those visions were truly awful.

“Your nephew could destroy the world so easily. Grief consumes him. At first, he doesn't realize who's killing me. He breaks down when he discovers it was Bruce, when he suspects you all know, or when he learns you did nothing to stop Bruce. He loses his humanity.”

Everything around him changed. Only dry land, nothing but destroyed buildings in the distance, gray skies, only the sound of the wind and silence.

“Gotham?”

“San Francisco, really.”

He was surprised. There was no trace of anything. The terrain was flat, unlike San Francisco, with no lake nearby, nothing at all. Jason walked around until he saw a tall boy lying on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” the young man said to nothingness.

“It’s not your fault,” a voice replied, a small, glowing orb. “There are still people hidden around the world. Maybe this time humanity has a chance to change. Let’s go home.”

“Gotham doesn’t exist anymore, Dad.”

“No, there’s no curse anymore either. Evil is gone too, but I wasn’t talking about Gotham. There’s still a home.”

“Okay,” he replied, getting up and hugging the small orb of light, just walking away.

“He’ll regret it later, he’ll suffer for it, he’ll pay for it… but why would I let him go through all that? Even though it’s no longer necessary, clairvoyance. Now he knows that Bruce is the one who’s killing me.”

“You don’t need to kill Bruce.”

“No, actually, that’s why it’s easier to just wait for the years to pass.”

“And you’re showing me this? Why?”

“Because if he needs Bruce to have a minor accident that doesn’t attract attention, you’re the one who can stop him. Dick has a lot of anger; he’ll see this. It will hurt him, but he’ll turn everyone and the world against Bruce. If you stop Bruce, Dick will look the other way, knowing you did it for everyone’s sake. It will hurt him; he’ll feel guilty because you had to do it.”

“How manipulative” he snorts, but he understands.

“You have to be manipulative to avoid selling your soul, to survive even if I don’t have a future, a different kind of monster.”

“And what about me?”

“You’re a different kind of monster. You tried to clone Conner 99 times. You’re not normal, Tim, but you’re practical. You love, and you’re obsessive. You’re actually a lot like us. Dick holds back, but he’d kill for you and me. He cares more about his family than the mission. For a while, he’ll say he feels guilty, but only he’ll know he’s at peace.”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“I don’t know much about Cassandra, Stephanie, or Damian, but I know you could do it.”

“And Barbara? You’re underestimating her.”

“Barbara could tell Dick we took care of Bruce, and Dick will tell him all this. We just have to plant some things, distract her. She loves the commissioner more, you know. And I know a ghost who’s a tech whiz. I don’t even have to use magic. She can have all the suspicions she wants.” He makes his excuses, slumping at the white landscape that now surrounds them.

“Cass will notice from our body language.”

“The earring I gave you is for that purpose; you just need to wear it. It will project something different when you lie or tell the truth, but it won't work with the Lasso."

“Why me?”

“I always wanted a little brother,” he admitted. “I didn’t come back because I had a little brother who I later found out was my son, but I thought, ‘This is my little brother now.’ Dick was a jerk.”

“We realized,” he laughed. Dick hadn’t wanted him at first.

“Besides, you have the survival instinct of a wet paper bag. In my head, I’ve already adopted you. You’re stuck with me, Timmy.”

“So that’s why you call me Successor?”

“Dick wasn’t happy that I was Robin. Nobody was. To me, Robin was magic. It wasn’t easy for you either, or for Stephanie, and then Damian took it from you. Nobody seems to pass on the mantle in a way that doesn’t hurt. But you’re good. You’re not a substitute or a replacement. You’re my Successor, and nobody else has that.”

“How do you know they’re not manipulating you?” That was a bigger worry, especially with the Time Ghost watching.

"There's a certain degree of manipulation, I won't deny it, but he likes us."

"Us? Me?" he asked incredulously. Why did the Time Ghost feel something friendly toward Tim Drake?

"You have no idea, Timtam," Jason sighed, closing the distance to give him a hug—a little clumsy, but at least it didn't suffocate him like Dick's hugs.

_________________

My long notes!

Isn't it funny how I always say I wrote something that's really long, but the next thing I write is even longer? It's funny I found that because originally this was all going to be a one-shot, but I felt it was too much.

It's funny how Jaybin tries to escape "Red Hood" because he doesn't want to be Red Hood, but because that version of him is so overpowered it scares him. Jaybin can be just as brutal in battle as his Red Hood persona, maybe even a little worse because he's even more trained and has better mental health; he just enjoys being underestimated.

How does Jason have time to finish a degree, then a master's, keep an eye on his son, and fight the forces of evil? He's a single father, and he makes it work.

I wanted to portray how lonely and isolated Jason can be because he never gives himself the chance to make friends or seems unaware that he has them. Adding to the fact that he's a teenage single father makes him even more isolated because people ask questions. It doesn't help that he's 4'3", a baby having his own baby, sometimes joking that he gave birth to Danny. If Bruce has Alfred, Jason has John Constantine, which isn't exactly comforting.

He struggles with loneliness but fails; he doesn't fit in. He doesn't join social media groups because there's no one to call and no one to call him, so it takes him a long time to get a cell phone. Even then, you can bet it's full of pictures of his baby. Jason is a caregiver.

He could easily have never left his house for years until he had to take Danny to school, but he starts a little before it's mandatory.

The thing is, children notice when their parents or caregivers are "nervous." Jay, although a good father, is overly vigilant, looking around for danger, tense and nervous. Danny, who can sense emotions much more easily, ends up just as anxious.

Danny grows up hearing what people say about Jason. Children can be cruel, but his dad teaches him to be mean, to get revenge by being smarter, even though he makes friends.

Danny knows he's not a normal kid, that he doesn't have a normal family, that magic exists, and knowing all that also isolates him a bit because he can't talk about it with just anyone. Luckily, the age difference between Billy and Danny isn't much.

Jason's breakdown because his son will never have a life like his, yet he's worried he might be "weak" but lacks the willpower to train him because he doesn't want to make him "strong," yet is too afraid to train and learn any way to protect his son from harm. This is a different kind of breakdown, but one Bruce could easily experience.

The way he isolates his son is an unconscious reflection of how Bruce isolated him without realizing it. Jason doesn't even realize how much he resembles Bruce. He still considers Willis his father because he knows any changes are the work of Tim and Clockwork, but it's also curious how Willis called him "prince," and Jason calls his children that.

Now imagine Bruce's breakdown when he realizes that no matter what he does, he will be the one to kill his son, not by accident, but because he is condemned by a cursed prophecy.

Jaybin, who doesn't want to call Tim a Substitute, wants to change the way Robin passes the torch to the next person, so he calls him "successor" also because he knows he was originally going to treat him like dirt, and this is his way of making amends. The brotherhood between Jason and Tim that I longed for.

Dick complains about Jason calling him "golden child" in the past, but Jason comes home with a university degree, a master's, aspiring to a doctorate, being the closest thing to a Batman that the Dark Justice League has, a present father, and a prodigy of magic—the same vibe as Mulan returning home, handing the Sword of Shan Yu and the Emperor's Crest to her father. Certainly, if he had confessed to being married to a high-born woman, it would have been the ultimate blow for Dick.

Especially since he gave his diplomas to Alfred and Bruce. Even worse, with good grades, being a lawyer graduated from Oxford. It's hilarious to me that Jason is berating Bruce for all the people he's flirted with or been involved with in the past. It would be so mortifying for Bruce, and it's even funnier because it doesn't help his case. It makes him seem more like a spoiled brat, complaining that because of Bruce's flirting, Jason almost got a B on a test, as if that B could actually have affected his perfect grades.

Jaybin, the secretly jealous son, who didn't want a stepmother or stepfather, who would only accept Diana but doesn't wish for Diana to end up with someone as disastrous as Bruce.

I made up the Kryptonian name; it sounded good in my head, along with the explanation of the surname, which isn't really relevant.

Bruce is suffering, everyone is suffering, and only 10 of the 15 years have passed. Like a fairytale princess, Danny was blessed by every magic user for his protection; I want to write that scene.

There's an extra that's actually the closest thing to an epilogue. Goodbye ~

[lukyan-chan]

DC X DP Prompt - In Another Life

I guess my life was miserable, but meeting you was my greatest luck. My only wish is that you can be happy.

That magical Jaybin! Clockwork is having fun at everyone's expense with Tim's unwitting help. Constantine, unfortunately, is paid enough for this. Bruce, as always, is having a meltdown. The Kents are very confused. Canon is a choice I never consciously made. The translator and I against the world.

______________

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Nothing should be this way.

But there he is, in a van full of other people, with a baby in his arms, crossing an unfamiliar country, far from the last option he had. He doesn't really know what to do once he gets to wherever that beat-up van is supposed to go. He just wanted to leave, to get away from everything.

Danny isn't even crying. It reminds him of the babies in Crime Alley who learn to stop, and that hurts him more than he can explain.

For a moment, he understands why Dick won't take Bruce's money—his pride makes him not want anything from him. He would have, for a moment at first, but he knows hunger; pride won't keep his stomach full, and although he'd rather die penniless and with his head held high, Danny is innocent. Danny didn't ask for this, so to hell with pride.

He'll empty his entire trust fund and run away forever. He'd leave the planet if he could.

He needs a place that won't ask questions about why a 15-year-old boy has a baby.

He needs a new identity. He needs food. He needs many things.

Part of him wants to go back to Bruce, but Bruce doesn't trust him. He probably thinks Danny is his. No, he doesn't really want to see Bruce.

He can't trust Bruce.

When he reaches a safe place, he buys a few basic necessities and stays in a motel where no one asks questions.

He hasn't changed a diaper in a long time, but he's not too bad at it. That's how he finds things on his little brother's body, his son. He looks at the scars, and his mind fills in the rest.

A rage rises along with horror in his throat, bubbles in his stomach, and his eyes sting.

"No one will hurt you, Danny," he promises, gently hugging the baby, who seems surprised to be held. This only makes him hold him more carefully, but for much longer.

The baby won't stop crying, no matter what he does. The few hours he slept were from exhaustion, and those were the only two hours he was able to sleep at all. He can't take him to the doctor. How will he explain Danny's scars? When they ask? How can he trust just anyone?

"Come on, sleep a little! Just a little!" he begs, almost crying himself, still cradling the baby.

The door to the pathetic room is kicked open, putting him on alert. What he doesn't expect is the woman who looks at him with annoyance, hugging Danny tighter.

"Where's your mother?" she asks, her English more fluent than one would expect in a motel in Morocco.

"That bitch can rot in hell for what she did," he replies with his full crime alley accent.

The woman looks at him. Good, he'll have to fight this lady.

He's has lost the battle against this lady. Her name is Mila.

Mrs. Mila asks few questions. Father? A jerk he at least stole money from. Mother? She ran away. He found her with his little brother, whom she was going to let die, and who hurt the baby. Was she planning to keep the baby?

Ma'am, take all the stuff. I left the country, and if I could, I'd go back and yell at our mother, asking her what the hell was wrong with her, using Danny like a damn lab rat.

Mrs. Mila just looked at him, then at his other supplies, and approved. "At least you know how to change diapers and make milk." He just rolled his eyes but accepted the help.

Danny beat them both. It's unbelievable! He laughed at Mrs. Mila's indignant and panicked expression. Maybe it was mean of him, but he felt vindicated.

So he walked over to Mrs. Mila's house, which was near the motel. She called her neighbors and all the women in her family, apparently. He had perfected his cover story, so when someone asked why the baby had autopsy scars, he answered truthfully: it was their mother's fault. They asked about his family, and well, he wasn't completely lying, so it didn't matter.

Luckily, someone's nephew there is a doctor. Yes, he asks the same questions, answers the same, and finds two implants under the skin, which he carefully removes.

His stomach churns when he looks at it, but he knows what a tracker is when he sees it. Someone is tracking them, someone will look for Danny, and the other is administering some substance, so everyone in that house falls silent. The tracker ends up in a truck that was in the motel parking lot. The other is carefully destroyed.

He ends up on a boat, with used clothes from one of Mrs. Mila's grandchildren, a better backpack for his meager belongings. Danny got a stuffed animal and a blanket.

He left some money on the table, a note with a hastily written thank you.

Without the implants, Danny manages to sleep, though it still feels uneasy. He's itching to know what Sheila got herself into, what they were doing to Danny, but he can't figure it out. He's wasted time without knowing; he has to disappear. His Russian isn't very good, but he can practice while he travels to some part of Siberia. He thanks Selina for teaching him how to keep secret accounts abroad, so he's been able to withdraw a lot of money from his trust fund. It was money for college, for his future, so it's fine. When he can get a job, he'll stop using it, but for now, he'll use it. Pride won't keep Danny going.

He arrives in Scotland. It's a better option than going to Russia because the temperature is still very low, even though spring is approaching, and he can't expose Danny to such a change; it would be stupid.

It's still awful because it's cold, a different kind of cold than in Gotham. Danny seems to enjoy it; he's been able to sleep, so he can sleep too.

This Scottish village, whose name he can barely pronounce, isn't so bad. The cabin he rented with cash is the most secluded, and the owner doesn't ask questions. He threw his phone away somewhere when he left Sheila. He still knows Dick's number. He could call him, but will he answer? Will he tell him to go back to Bruce? Would he accept Danny?

He's not sure, maybe he won't even answer. Oh wait, maybe he's not even on the planet. He tells himself that's for the best.

He bleaches his hair, uses some tanning lotion, puts a little on Danny too. They still have many similar features, so no one is surprised.

Danny gets used to a routine, which seems surprising; he manages to sleep almost through the night now.

He buys him more toys, gets him a storybook he can recite from memory.

He has to leave the cabin eventually; he plans his next steps.

He doesn't even have time to think about Bruce, Robin, or what he left behind.

Maybe Bruce never really cared.

“Playing” outside feels almost idyllic, although he can’t let Danny wander around. Danny seems perfectly happy watching the clouds and chewing on his toys. He can read a little to find some peace and quiet, some time for himself. Just find a suitable spot, a blanket on the ground, and settle Danny down so he can sit looking at the cloudy sky, his toys, and the sounds of nature. Sometimes he reads to him, even though it makes his throat tight.

He was once this small, and Catherine used to read to him too, finding ways to keep him entertained. She always said he was a calm baby.

When things were still going well, without the two-faced nature of Willis, with him being a good, present father, healthy, pain-free, even in a place like Crime Alley where people just survive, there was a glimmer of hope.

Danny has him, Robin, even if he's no longer Robin—the suit is buried at the bottom of his backpack—with enough money for both of them, plus more tricks up his sleeve. It's ironic that he was trained to stop crime but now knows how to create a new, legitimate identity, how to conceal weapons, fight, manners, ways to deceive, ways to avoid detection, and how to evade anyone. The methods of stealing and hiding accounts are all Selina's doing, but it's Bruce's fault. If he wanted his girlfriend/not-girlfriend to get along with his son, he should have supervised them.

He didn't even cover his tracks at first, but Bruce never came looking for him. That was all the answer he needed. He didn't go to Ethiopia looking for him; he must think he went back to Gotham or went with his mother. They're not looking for him, neither Alfred nor Dick, and certainly not Barbara, but she doesn't expect him to; she only wishes him the best. Gotham and the people of Crime Alley weigh heavily on him, but he can't do it. He can't go back to Crime Alley with a baby, at the mercy of all the villains, the criminals, the drugs, and misfortune.

When he's in a better place, he'll investigate what he can about Danny, take charge or move things around, find a city to settle in, create an identity, and… have a different life.

The cold is different; Danny thrives in it, babbling with his baby smile. It feels like the right decision.

It's the smell of tobacco that makes him look at the blond man in the trench coat. He wasn't there a minute ago, but he's looking at them both strangely. He tenses, ready to unleash the smoke bomb and the dagger.

___________________

John hadn't expected to find the little boy so close to home. It saves him a lot of trouble, but at the same time, there's a skinny teenager who seems more ferocious than he should be.

The teenager listens cautiously, easily believing what's suspicious.

"Not that I'm complaining, but do you believe me?" he said, looking at the boy who makes excellent tea.

"I know a few things," he replies evasively, but he seems ready to kill him right there. The worst part is that he has a feeling he's capable of it.

He sighs. "Okay, whatever you say."

"So what now?"

"Find the child's mother." The boy seems to hate the idea but says nothing.

The summoning circle reveals the ancient time, with that smile that sends shivers down John's spine.

The boy puts on a poker face, holding the baby.

“I see you have the mother and you’ve got Daniel back” he said.

He frowned, looked at the teenager—same blue eyes, freckles. He saw the dark roots in the brown hair, so the hair must be darker. His eyes widened. “He’s barely a teenager,” he murmured incredulously. “He’s a child!”

“He’s perfect,” the ghost said with his smile.

“Excuse me?” the boy blurted out for the first time.

“I moved things around so little Daniel would come to where you were,” he commented.

“Why?”

“You’re the most suitable one. You’ll watch over that baby even if there’s no blood involved. You’ll fight because your heart is in the right place.”

“What do you mean, even if there’s no blood involved?”

_________

The house reminds him a little of the mansion, but perhaps that’s because he can see Alfred in that kind of house—not Bruce, but Alfred.

Danny takes his bottle; he’s almost asleep in his arms.

This is his son.

Even if it's by the whim of the dead gods, Danny is his son.

The Ghost of Time gave him everything he needs: a house, money, a name, school records, medical records, so that no one can find him no matter what they do. John Constantine had already taken care of the people who hurt Danny; no trace of them remained, no one was after them.

He just has to be Danny's father.

He just has to raise him… Hidden from the sight of evil until he was 15.

He showed him what was going to happen: Sheila selling him to the Joker, him dying, and then…it would have been better if he had stayed dead. He doesn't want to believe that Bruce would be capable of so much, even if he cries for him his whole life. If it all comes from pain, he never understands, he never believes him, just a story to scare the children who will come after him, just a calamity rising from his own grave.

There is no world where he has the family he desires. Too wounded, too much pain, too much despair.

He doesn't want to become that Red Hood. Why can't he have something good? Jason Todd's death is a mistake, but a constant. Daniel Fenton always dies. In other lives, in other worlds, but not this time. He won't die, he won't become Batman's mistake, not a cautionary tale, not a false martyr, not a crime boss who, though he helps people, barely stays afloat. He hates the idea, he hates thinking that under Red Hood's care, Catherine would have lived.

It makes everything easier. In this life, he'll be Jason Nightingale. He has a son, Daniel Nightingale. His "uncle" is John Constantine, a supposed friend of his deceased parents. There's no mother, no other family. He's nobody's son, an orphan.

He'll need more training. After 15 years, there will be threats of all kinds. He needs to practice magic.

Try not to think about Bruce.

It's better not to think about him. His home is lost, but the Ghost of Time is right. Even if he didn't have his blood, he would try to do everything possible for him.

John Constantine is now his pseudo-uncle, with whom he lives. He has a dubious job, but he pays the bills, even though it's all a lie. John will only visit to check on them. There's enough money for the baby, enough money for college, for Danny's college.

He should be happy that everything is resolved quickly, but he supposes he's mourning what he thought would be his life.

Danny won't have to get involved in any of the Infinite Realms' business until he dies of old age. He can live his life. He'll develop powers as he grows up, but he's not obligated to be a hero.

Perhaps he's also crying for both of them, for Danny Fenton.

The Time Ghost even suggested some therapists to him—absolute audacity, but he sold it to him in the best way possible: if he works on his emotions, he'll be a better father. He'll be different from Bruce, no doubt! He'll be a better father than all the ones he's had.

He still doesn't want to be separated from his little one, so he'll finish school online, and then… he'll decide later.

__________________

There's no trace of his son.

Jason is nowhere to be found.

Clark can't find his heartbeat.

He refuses to believe his son is dead.

He feels himself going insane.

His sanity crumbles with each passing day he can't find him.

Sheila's last words echo in his head, in the horror of realizing he's arrived too late.

"He was supposed to be here. If he had stayed here, I wouldn't owe the Joker anything anymore."

That woman was going to sell her own son to the Joker without remorse, without regret.

"He was going to solve all my problems."

As if Jason wasn't just a child who wanted to be loved.

The clues he has have led him to a dead end.

He discovers that Sheila had a baby. Everyone says she left, and then she reappeared with a baby. The security cameras in the few locations he managed to access show Jason being presented with a baby, Sheila flattering him with lies. Jason returns to the hotel, changes into his Robin costume, takes the baby, and heads to where Sheila planned to ambush him and sell him to the Joker.

He doesn't care about Jason or the baby.

His son is nowhere to be found.

__________________

He finds out late, as always before; Bruce doesn't warn him about anything.

Jason has disappeared.

Clark can't hear his heartbeat. Jason only left a message for him.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Bruce is a wreck, sleepless, searching for clues, but there's no trace after seeing Jason leave with a baby.

He tries to conduct his own search, but there are no answers.

He's facing something different; he actually knows almost nothing about Jason. He was always too annoyed with Bruce to spend real time with Jason, and it took him a long time to accept him. They were just starting to improve their relationship; he was barely getting to know him.

What does he know about Jason? Not much, so he starts piecing together each fragment of his life from a perspective different from Bruce's.

Jason loves school. There are college brochures everywhere, always checking if they're still a good option that year.

There are many books with little marks showing Jason has read them—not just classics, but also romance and science fiction. There are even some on the history of fashion. He has a new handmade bookmark, some more elaborate than others, and some have notes in them. Jason's handwriting is changing under Alfred's tutelage, as he can see in the notes.

There are notebooks for practicing calligraphy.

Jason has no friends—not when he lived with his mother, not when he was on the streets, not at the academy.

His language teacher calls him bright and enthusiastic; her only concern is that he spends a lot of time alone.

Another teacher wrote, "A good student, but awkward at socializing."

Jason has no friends. This realization hits him in a way he hadn't expected.

He had been jealous of how Jason absorbed all of Bruce's attention and how Bruce gave it to him without question.

But Jason had no friends. Jason lived for Bruce and Alfred's attention because there was no one else who gave him that attention, no one who wanted to be his friend, no one besides Bruce and Alfred.

It wasn't like Jason was rubbing it in his face how he and Bruce went to all those baseball games. What else could he tell Dick if his life was just Bruce and Robin? Jason wasn't being an idiot by bragging about all of Bruce's attention. Jason wanted his attention too, and until recently, he was getting it.

There was no one else to ask for help.

A part of him feels something strange, he doesn't know how to name it, it feels a bit like disgust, like discomfort, disgust, and relief because he managed to escape this level of control.

Seeing Bruce lose his mind because he can't find Jason almost gives him a sense of satisfaction somehow. Bruce allowed Jason to reach this level of isolation, because of his own ego, his own need to possess someone, and he still can't understand. What an easy kid, and Bruce still ruined it.

Jason managed to keep secrets, which is even more surprising considering how much control Bruce had over him.

He would still admire everything if he weren't worried about the situation, if the idea of ​​Jason being dead or suffering somewhere… did he expect them to come to the rescue? Or had he given up long ago?

He didn't know whether to call it betrayal or madness when he saw another boy wearing the Robin suit. For a moment, he thought it was Jason, and Bruce hadn't told him he'd found him again. Perhaps he would have let it go more easily, but no, it was another boy. It was. Another. Boy.

He was a new Robin.

_______________

It takes Dick longer to stop being cold towards him; he doesn't blame him.

But Batman is out of control, and no one has done anything about it; the city is feeling the effects.

Having him there makes Bruce take care of himself, sleep a little more, even if he doesn't seem to accept it.

Jason Todd is like a ghost in the mansion, even if he isn't dead. He haunts the corners, a locked room, and a library that's cleaned, but all the books remain.

He's there in the family portrait, smiling, tormenting Bruce, who initially removed all traces of him until Dick noticed, starting another fight.

Have you given up and considered him dead?! Or did you never care about him, so you erase his existence so easily?!

Is this what you do to your son?! You were the one who pushed Jason away, and you erase him as if he were nothing! Then I'll take everything if you don't want it anymore.

Dick only managed to grab a few things before Bruce pounced on him, saying he couldn't take them.

So everything went back in its place. He doesn't know if it's really a good thing if he torments everyone in the mansion.

He knows how Jason disappeared, trying to save a baby. He's watched the video so many times, he feels it burning behind his eyelids.

Robin holds a baby naturally, then disappears.

He's almost the image of a saint or a martyr, the perfect child, Bruce's pride, his only son.

To make the holidays better, he made photo albums with all the good pictures he'd taken over the years.

That made Dick hug him longer.

Barbara becomes Oracle, searching for her own clues, and teaches him a few things.

He wonders if in another life they would have been friends, if they could have been brothers, if Jason would be happy.

The months pass, searching for every possible clue.

Months turn into two years.

While searching through all the Cadmus information, he finds a clue he wasn't looking for. Sheila's name is there.

It seems he has to look for another evil organization belonging to another millionaire, but it's a lead he's grateful for.

He looks at Conner's samples; perhaps they need a different analysis.

Eleven hours later, a quick trip with Bart to look at the area where a town once stood.

Nature has grown too quickly; only a road crosses the land, but the trees shouldn't be as tall as they are, not in the short time that has passed.

But even on the old maps, there's no trace of the town that was supposed to be there.

It's another dead end, but not entirely useless. The results show something promising. He doesn't know if Superman will appreciate Conner; he hopes so, but if not, it doesn't matter. Bruce hoards everything related to Jason.

A live clue: blood that points a possible way to Robin. That means Conner can stay with him.

Alfred always wanted a great-grandson anyway.

He quickly regained control when he saw Superman's expression; the papers in his arms felt like they were burning.

"I don't think Superboy is really a clone of Lex Luthor. I think he was tricked by his own team," he explained, looking at everyone. Superman's expression changed slightly; that was enough for him.

"Explain yourself," Bruce demanded.

"Before the scientists destroyed everything, I was able to recover many things. The idea was to use Lex's genes to stabilize Conner, but Luthor's genes weren't viable. Everyone created from Lex died, so the scientists did something else," he told them, still staring intently at Bruce, who barely nodded.

"So whose…?" Conner asked, equally confused.

“It seems someone on the team worked elsewhere on something similar. I recognized a name, so I looked into it further.” He took a deep breath. “He’s your grandson, Batman.”

The impact was almost physical for everyone. Bruce’s expression was priceless; he almost enjoyed it, almost. The thing is, everyone knows Batman doesn’t have children, not blood children at least. To have a grandchild, you need a son.

“Cardinal, Batman.”

Bruce stumbles, but recovers enough to walk over to Conner, who seems a little intimidated. Bruce almost tears off his glove, but very carefully places his hand on Conner's hair, which looks very lost.

Conner is every bit Clark Kent, almost identical, but the shade of blue in his eyes isn't the same, the black of his hair is more human, not as pure black as Clark's, the curls and texture are wrong. So are the almost invisible freckles and the crooked way he smiles.

He's taken too many pictures of that smile not to recognize it.

Conner may have the dominant Kryptonian genes, but he's half-human. Obtaining the necessary genes for that must have been fresh, a clue Bruce can exploit.

If Clark doesn't want his clone, it doesn't matter.

He sees the recognition, in the freckles, in the blue, the large doe-like eyes that Clark doesn't have, then he finds the small freckle peeking out from Conner's clothes.

“Dr. Sheila was hiding in the archives,” he says, sealing Conner’s fate. “I have all the information I’ve found so far, and here’s a summary.”

Bruce glances at him, almost feeling his desperate desire to know more, but he controls himself, turns back to Conner, and smiles.

“You’re coming home with me and Robin,” is the gentlest tone Bruce has ever used in public.

Conner nods, very confused.

“His name is Conner,” he reminds him with a small, victorious smile.

“That’s a good name.”

Conner smiles too. He still doesn’t know what’s happening about not being Lex’s, but he’s very happy.

He’s already called Dick to tell him he’ll arrive with a lead on Cardinal, the code for Jason, he’ll go to the cave, and Alfred has already prepared a room.

There was little discussion about taking Conner to the mansion, so he whispers that he’ll explain everything when they’re somewhere else.

When they finally arrived at the cave, Conner's expression was priceless.

"Holy shit, they live in a cave? I thought it was a joke," he muttered, looking around. "Why is there a dinosaur? And the giant penny?"

He let Conner look around and started his presentation on the large computer.

"While searching through the Cadmus files, I came across the name Sheila Hardwood. I checked if she was our Sheila, and she is."

“That’s all. Any questions?”

“You figured all that out in just 12 hours?” asked Conner, who at some point had sat down eating a sandwich Alfred had given him.

“How long have you been awake?” asked Dick, no longer knowing how to react to everything he had heard.

“That last part is irrelevant. What’s important is the information we now have.”

“Is this normal?” Conner leaned slightly toward Dick, worried about how crazy his friend seemed.

"In him? Unfortunately, yes," he sighed.

"In conclusion, there was some group that tried to clone Batman, they failed. It's possible there are more kids out there who are Batman's children, but we know Conner's other father, who is the second Robin. I also found Willis Todd's personal phone book; for some reason, it has the number of another terrorist and Lady Shiva."

"I really want to know how a two-faced thug ends up with Lady Shiva's personal number. I really need to know," Dick said, with more questions than answers.

"To test my hypothesis, we have to dig up Willis Todd and do some analysis."

"Good Lord, we're going to have to dig up a corpse," Dick muttered, looking at Tim, who seemed a little too enthusiastic.

"I'll get you enough shovels ready," Alfred said, of course, thinking about the logistics.

"My grandfather is Batman, my uncles are Nightwing and my friend is Robin, my biological parents are a missing 15-year-old and Superman—I don't know if this can get any crazier" Conner blurted out, overwhelmed.

“Batman and I are billionaires. We’re in Batman’s basement,” Tim commented, enjoying Conner’s expression.

“This is a basement?!” he exclaimed.

“Hey B, how are you?” Dick asked, looking at Bruce, who seemed lost.

“I have more children in danger around the world… I have a grandson.”

Surprisingly, Bruce fainted right then.

“I thought he’d faint after I told him that the baby Robin left with might be his other grandson, not before.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” Conner muttered, looking at Batman’s collapsed figure. Nightwing seemed unsure whether to laugh or cry.

__________________

John finds out by mistake; he wasn't even supposed to know, even though he's arriving very late to the news. But surely, until now, he was in the right place at the right time, meeting the Time Ancient.

What twisted story did the Time Ancient concoct?

He found out thanks to Billy, his new honorary nephew. Billy has bonded with Jason, seeing him as an older brother. Although Billy isn't the best at gathering information, he's improving thanks to Jason. He's surprised they didn't find out sooner.

The problem is that now he has to avoid the bats. He's not even 15 yet, but they're eventually figuring it out.

But it wasn't supposed to be like this!

Instead of appearing at the house of mystery, he appears at his "nephew's" house.

"Uncle Connie!" Little Danny greets him joyfully, pretending he doesn't enjoy something as domestic as this.

"Hey darling, how are you?" He asks, to pick him up, the little majesty is almost 5 years old, all smiles and joy.

He walks around the house listening to everything Danny has to tell him about his day, he heads to the laundry room where he finds Jason bullying Billy a little.

“This brat doesn’t want to tell me what he found out but it’s obvious he wants to,” Jason gives him an indignant look as if to say, “Can you believe it?”

“It’s complicated, Jay!” he defends himself while folding another t-shirt. “John can tell you better.”

“Better to stab me, instead of throwing me under the bus,” he protests.

“We don’t stab in the house, Uncle Connie,” Danny reminds him with all the innocence in the world.

“Let’s go play in your room, Danny!” Billy exclaims to steal the little ray of sunshine and escape from there.

He can’t even complain because he gets paid too well for this crap.

Jason just crosses his arms waiting; he has no right to feel capable of scolding him. He wants to take out a cigarette and smoke, but he knows he won't be able to, so instead he takes out his flask and takes a swig.

"According to the bats, you're the result of some evil infiltration plan gone wrong, so your mother abandoned you with your father, who didn't know he'd been injected with something that actually gave you Bruce Wayne's genes. So you're Bruce Wayne's biological son. They think some member of this evil organization is holding you captive or killed you, but used part of you for some other crazy evil person. You have a son with Superman, who's a kind of clone, but he has your DNA as his other father, and they've discovered that you're the only biological child of this evil plan."

"I have a what with whom?" he blurted out in shock.

"A son with Superman, Superboy, the one in the leather jacket," he blurted out.

"What the hell, Clockwork?!"

A green note appeared, a single smiley face drawn on it.

He read the research Bruce and the birds had put together, and he wanted to scream and tear his hair out.

Did they go for the craziest idea?

No, actually, this is Clockwork's fault. He'd left the clues, and in a display of stupidity, they'd all decided the crazy theory was correct.

It was Tim Drake's fault too. The kid had gone mad, and Clockwork went along with it.

In a display of "I can do whatever I want now," the Ancient of Time said "yes" to his former family's delusions.

How did he go from being just Danny's father to having a child with Superman? Had he been under the influence of some drug or toxic gas?

Now he has another child, with the Superman of all people.

He's Bruce's biological son now, for God's sake!

As if that weren't enough, now there's a ninja cult that wants to kill him because they're offended by his existence.

"You're having a lot of fun, aren't you?" I ask the air, the note with the happy face was his entire answer: “Of course, yes.”

Although that doesn't change the truth, what he knows now: Willis Todd is still his father because he would have at least killed the Joker for him.

Catherine is still his mother.

Danny is still his son.

Bruce… doesn't know what to think of him.

A future that no longer exists, an opportunity that was only given to him.

There is no world where Bruce trusts him, no world where Bruce believes he is innocent, no world where Bruce keeps his promises.

Bruce would cut his own throat… And nobody would care.

He's better off this way, far from them, from Bruce's madness and Gotham, even though it hurts him not to be able to save the city.

Perhaps he can do it when Bruce is no longer Batman, when he's too old and the others are far away.

By then, Danny will already be an independent and free man.

He has stayed off the radar; the only ones who know about him are Constantine and Billy. Time is running out for him.

He'll have to get out, make a name for himself that his former family can't find. He's learned magic, he needs more, and he can't do it alone anymore.

Dick's number is still saved on his phone, but as always, he doesn't dare dial it.

Another phone number appears on the green note: Roy Harper. Why Roy Harper? Clockwork might enjoy making the Waynes' delusions a reality, but he never plays with Danny's safety. He doesn't lead him astray when he points the way out so directly.

Fine, Roy Harper it is.

___________________

Being Batman's grandson is… I would have preferred just having the Kents, there's less… Drama?

At least they don't have a baby ninja running loose.

Sigh

Damian didn't know why he was there; it was never revealed to anyone else that he wasn't Luthor's (although he's been tempted to yell that he's not even his, but he holds back).

Damian arrived claiming to be the only biological son, the only one entitled to everything.

They really tried to be nice to him, they really did, but the kid tried to kill Tim, and Tim is his favorite uncle/brother (it's still so weird that he's his uncle!).

So, in a display of his poor emotional control (which Bruce always mutters he inherited from Clark), he blurted out that he was actually the second biological son.

Damian, being the spoiled brat he was, got offended and demanded to know what he was talking about.

Jason Todd is actually his biological son.

As if that weren't enough, he just pointed to the large portrait of Jason, as if it were necessary to point out the obvious favoritism.

Tim, like the idiot he is, blurted out "All the information about him was false, so he'd be safe. Jason is Bruce's firstborn."

Damian was shocked by this, but he didn't waste any time in stating what everyone already knew.

Jason had disappeared years ago.

"Do you think Bruce cares about that? Besides, he has Jason's son. He doesn't need another heir when he has one here."

Had they been idiots? Yes. Did they regret it? Tim didn't, he did a little, but not too much.

It was better for Damian to realize that Bruce was only interested in getting his son back. Everyone else had sensed Bruce's mishandling of the situation. Bruce was looking for Jason in everyone around him.

He was a ghost haunting the mansion, the boy who was unjustly framed and disappeared trying to save an innocent baby.

Time passes, the leads run out, but it has become a tradition that each new member is informed, each searching in their own way, like a ritual, to understand the family tragedy.

Steph, for example, discovered a man who was an associate of Sheila's, a living accomplice. That's how they learned Jason's last real location.

The original plan for that April 27th in Ethiopia.

The nameless baby, P-01, would be handed over to another former member of a group. Jason was a surprise, the best one, in fact. They had been pleased by his "timely" arrival, but the woman had other plans.

Sheila owed the Joker too much money; she would hand over the baby and Jason, revealed as the children of the Bat.

Jason would be handed over to the Joker. What the Joker did with Jason didn't matter to them as long as they got his body, as long as they could have the baby alive and Jason's body was enough. Sheila wanted to give the clown a false sense of triumph and would kill him once she was finished with Jason. Robin was supposed to reach another warehouse with the baby, but Jason had taken the baby and changed course before reaching the trap.

The Joker arrived; there was no Robin, no Batman's baby. Sheila and others paid the price.

The baby had a tracker and a device that delivered some substance. Without the countermeasure, the child would suffer until he died. One of the accomplices had escaped the Joker to follow the kids. Jason moved, getting further and further away, until he finally stopped at the Moroccan border, where he stayed for several days in a motel. It was there that he noticed the tracker and the device.

The tracker was attached to a truck, which served to mislead the last accomplice until he discovered the deception. Stephanie found an old janitor who remembered a teenager with a baby who never stopped crying. The boy had fled the motel; she heard someone else say that the boy had left on a boat.

It was the last known location.

Bruce had said how proud he was of Steph, how intelligent she was.

Steph reminded him so much of Jason that he was more overprotective than expected, a little suffocating at times, according to the blonde.

Cass wasn't initially looking for anything, but she became interested in the Garzonas case. She wanted to understand why it had divided them, why Jason would have been willing to kill Felipe Garzonas.

Rumors and clues led Cass to the Dominican Republic. Felipe Garzonas was alive; he had faked his death, not caring that his own father had died.

Cass understood Jason's frustration a little better. Felipe had tormented many girls, and even if Cass had helped lock him up, the surviving girls had barely felt any relief.

Was this fair?

If Jason had killed Felipe Garzonas, many girls wouldn't have suffered, wouldn't have died. Was that fair?

But Jason didn't kill Felipe. In reality, he only improved his plans to fake his death. José Garzonas died, and Felipe was able to get his hands on his money under another name. Jason was just a happy surprise that saved Felipe from having to kill his father.

Felipe Garzonas was in prison, penniless, limping, and miserable, but alive, unlike all the lives he had ruined.

Was this justice? Was it enough for all those who died? Would Gloria find peace with this?

The case was closed; the truth had come to light. A lesson in humility. Any criminal could deceive them with the right bait.

Bruce had been so distracted blaming Jason that Jason hadn't even noticed because he was angry that he was being doubted.

Bruce hadn't taken it well, realizing that if he had trusted Jason, they would have seen through Garzonas's deception and caught him sooner.

Jason wasn't lying. He was innocent.

Living in Wayne Manor is strange; the memory of someone who may not be dead haunts them.

Jason is there, in the paintings, in the memories of days gone by, in cases, in people of Gotham, some of whom they still frequent. He's there in the story of a boy who was framed and fled trying to save an innocent person.

He's the mythical figure that even Dick didn't really know; what they know comes from his belongings, his books, the few stories Bruce and Alfred tell, and their lost gazes.

He's there in small finds; he chose to leave but refused to be forgotten.

A boy who had the mansion to himself, so sometimes there's something, an object that belonged to him and that he left there, perhaps to be found and thus be remembered.

Sometimes, when he's anxious, Dick returns to the mansion to wander, wanting to find something he doesn't know what it could be, just traces of Jason. Some objects, mementos, photographs, movie tickets or baseball game tickets. The worst are the letters, diary pages filled with forgotten thoughts, all ending with "I'll burn this later."

Those are the worst because they torment Bruce the most.

Tim is always bitter about it, because the Jason who wrote that could never have imagined that his disappearance would forever change the Wayne family.

It's disheartening, really.

There was one he'd written for the next Wayne child:

I know I'll never mean anything to Bruce, a alley rat, too much trouble, too much, I'm too much. I hope Bruce loves you. He's emotionally stunted, he cares about Dick, I hope he loves you like he never loved me.

Tim had hated that one, too.

He's too Clark, too Kryptonian, not a Gotham bird, but still so Jason in his mannerisms that Bruce can't let him go for so long. Custody is difficult because Bruce can't bear having him away for so many days, even though he cares deeply for the Kents. Bruce hates not being able to publicly claim him as his grandson or as something of his own. Not being able to give him his name.

Alfred appreciates Ma Kent teaching him more recipes. The second bat who can successfully navigate a kitchen. Although he's not a fan of traditional tea.

It's strange because he can't think of Jason Todd as his father, but he wonders if he'll react the same way Clark did if he found out. He wonders if he's really like they say he is, if he's so kind that even if confused, he wouldn't despise him.

It's a childish thought to wish that Jason Todd would be happy about his existence.

Imagine a life where that Robin treats him as his own, under the care of a father who sees him and not the ghost of a crime or someone else.

He sighs.

Damian won't be able to accept Jason's ghost; that will end badly.

__________________

It's the longest he's ever been away from Danny. It hurts to be separated from his baby like this. He knows Billy and Roy will take good care of him. He'll keep himself busy with Lian, though he writes notes he knows will get through.

What he doesn't expect is to find Timothy Drake, to see him in person, trying somehow to infiltrate Ra's al Ghul's home. It's strange because he knows he shouldn't look like this, and he's been so out of touch with the news because of his world tour that he hasn't checked what's been happening in Gotham.

He feels bad. His successor looks like he's been through hell. His face, his eyes—he doesn't like it.

"Why are you here?" he asks.

"That's none of your business."

"I have a mission. I have to eliminate the Lazarus Pits," he tells him. The boy makes a face of disbelief because it's like kicking a hornet's nest. "What do you need from them?"

“You won’t be able to do that.”

“It’s not a question of if I can or not, but when. I have magic, the magic necessary to finish them off, and Ra’s.”

“He’ll come back to life,” he tells him.

“Not if you destroy his soul. His body will be able to breathe again, but without a soul there is no consciousness, only an empty body,” he says. That seems to make Timothy Drake think.

“Are you doing this for the good of the world, or is it personal?” he asks instead.

He takes a few seconds. “They’ll go after someone I love. I’ve managed to hide him, but it’s only a matter of time. It’s just me. Even if I die here, I want him to be free.”

“Have you killed before?”

“Demons, similar creatures… But I knew that one day I would have to do it.”

“I need Ra’s to find a way to search for someone in time.”

“That sounds like a magic problem.”

“Even I know it’s complicated,” he complains.

He hums, “Well, if we’re getting rid of all these people, that should be enough for a few time spells.”

It takes him longer to convince Tim to take a chance on him. They work well as a team.

It’s difficult not to reveal his face, but he manages to tell Tim that his face is disfigured and that he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his helmet or any of the things he uses to cover it.

He doesn’t care about the rest; he asks about the scars he has when the opportunity arises.

The most striking one is the one that looks like it’s from an autopsy.

“It’s not mine,” he replies as they spend the cold night in the desert. “I used magic to put it on me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Love, if you could take away the scars of someone you love, wouldn’t you?” he replies.

That leaves Tim thinking, “Yeah, I think so. Your girl is lucky.”

“My daughter, actually,” he corrects, though he’s lying.

“Aren’t you very young?”

He lets a few seconds pass, because he’s not going to lie and he knows how bad it sounds. “I didn’t consent to anything.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“I got something good out of it, so I don’t mind,” he reassures him. Silence again. It’s because of words, so all the madness started.

“Can I ask something, but try not to judge me?” he asks. That sounds like he’s going to judge a lot, but his instinct is telling him to take care of this kid. What the hell is Bruce doing with this family?

He can't even fully forgive him; he's lost in time, but everyone believes him dead. It's just something that could happen to Bruce. "I'll do what I can," he promises.

"There are always consequences when you try to bring someone back to life, right? There's never a way it works."

"Sometimes it's not the ritual, which is usually the most problematic part—a huge price to pay and sacrifices, all of that," he replies. "Sometimes it's the side effects."

"What do you mean?" Tim looks at him, though his face is barely visible in the darkness.

“Some people go to heaven. When you bring them back, you're tearing them away from heaven. Even if they don't remember being in heaven, you leave them traumatized. They'll become psychotic or suicidal… The worst part is that they don't understand why they feel this way, why they want to die when they're happy to be back on their feet, why they hurt themselves, why they hurt the people around them. They go off the rails,” he explains. “They die again, and they don't always return to heaven. It's cruel.”

“Oh…”

“Other times, the spell shatters the person's soul. They return just enough, but when they die, you'll have eliminated their soul. It depends a lot on how you bring the person back—one of yours for one of ours. But sometimes what returns doesn't come back alone. Many demons end up like that. Someone manages to revive someone and leaves the veil torn.”

“There's no way to beat death,” he concludes with a sigh.

“There are ways, but the side effects can be…” "It's too much…death somehow wins even if it can no longer take your soul, Ra's is stupid for that."

"He has lived 600 years."

“600 years is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Death is patient, Red. What are 600 years to death?”

“How philosophical,” he replies, his tone of voice sounding more relaxed.

“If you want to bring someone back, at least ask them if they want to come back, Red… Who do you want to bring back? Your parents, your mentor…?”

“No, I know he’s alive, so I just want to bring him back, but no, not him. You must think I’m a bad son.”

“He’d hit my daughter if he brought me back. I’d feel like I’d never be worthy of the price. Besides, there are fathers who don’t hit you but make you feel miserable, like you’re never enough, never satisfied, like everything is just a formality… a father who would slit your throat for breaking his rules. I don’t need a father like that.”

“I don’t hate him, he’s just tired,” he confesses. “My brother… I’ve lost so many in such a short time. They think I’m crazy, but I know he’s there.”

Dick was dead?! No, Roy would have told him. The world would stop if Nightwing had died. He was sure Tim and Talia’s son wouldn’t be that close… someone close to Tim. The blonde girl was his girlfriend, so no. Lady Shiva’s daughter was a woman… Conner?!

He's grateful for the darkness because he wants to ask more questions. How could her other son be dead?! He calms his body, his voice, and his breathing.

"I've never personally traveled through time, Red, but I know the right person for it. I'll try to get you as close as possible to achieving your goal."

He'll go to that damned ghost, hit him with his ridiculous staff for letting his other son die. He has to find a way to get close to that boy, or at least put some protection on him, because who killed his son?

"I don't usually trust people; it's almost a trademark, but you're strange."

"I don't need to lie to you. Maybe that's it. Sleep well, Red." He calms his breathing. It's uncomfortable being like this, but he'll make it work. "We have very busy days."

His sword pierces Ra's chest; he realizes it for a fraction of a second, absolute terror as he recognizes power. Tim somehow manages to get a motorcycle, pulls him along, throws the grenade into the pit, and it reacts instantly. They escape with two explosions hot on their heels. There are enough labyrinths in the base for the pit's explosion to blow them up, taking many people with it. He raises a shield around them as they flee. The explosion also reaches them, but they keep going thanks to the shield, though the motorcycle melts first. Sometimes his bat-like brain forgets he has damn magic, so another little spell makes them appear farther from the complex. The shield is still active, which helps.

"Shit! What was in that grenade?!" Tim yelled.

"It's called lapis lazuli. It took me a year to make it," he laughed, a little hysterically. "We didn't die!"

“I just realized I just killed the mother and grandfather of that little demon brat.”

“A little late,” he laughed, which made Tim laugh too.

“Could you have made us appear instead of wasting time on the motorcycle?” he complained, laughing.

“Sometimes I forget I can do that.”

“You’re so stupid,” he continued laughing.

_________________

The League of Assassins is history now. He just killed Damian's mother, a mess he won't touch right now, but at the same time, he's satisfied with the result. Ra's is definitely dead.

They stop in the first village they find. The helmet is replaced with cloth, and he also sees bandages among Magnus's attempt at a turban.

They eat and sleep better, even though the inn's beds are awful, but the adrenaline kicks in.

They sleep longer than they expected, eat, and Magnus decides to gather more supplies for their next journey.

At night, they travel further into the desert. Magnus uses black sand to draw a circle, producing more things that he makes appear out of thin air, until the circle ignites and a dimensional rift opens.

"Where does it lead?"

“Something different from the afterlife, the space in between, where the dead are solid and the living aren't. Don't touch the clocks. The guy can be… infuriating at best, but if he doesn't give us an answer, I can at least get you a time-traveling trip with some other guy who owes me a favor.”

“Why are you doing this for me? It's too much.” He needed to know why. Magno was a stranger. He hadn't told him his identity. He didn't know what this guy looked like, but he trusted him. He was sincere, but he didn't know why.

Magno seemed to consider his words, but he took his hand gently—rough, large hands.

“I'm running out of time. I got a favor, and time is running out.”

“This isn't an attempt to get me to take your daughter if something happens to you, is it? I can't even remember when to eat.”

“I don't need you to raise her. I have someone who would if something happened to me. I just want to… I want to help you. I really want to. You're a good kid.” Red

He opens his mouth to say something but can't find the words, so he lets Magno pull him toward the portal.

It feels strange as he passes through; the ticking sound is very obvious, there are clocks and gears everywhere. They walk toward what seems like another room, a living room with furniture and a blue-skinned man with red eyes. One of them has a scar, but instantly he transforms into an old man, hunched over, with a wrinkled face, a white beard and hair, dressed in purple. There's a clock on his chest. Then he's a child.

"Just in time," he greets. Magno squeezes his hand slightly, standing in front of him.

"You knew it," he accuses in a way.

The being doesn't have legs but a kind of tail, but he keeps smiling. Magno just sighs.

"Can you help Red?" he asks.

"I can."

"What's the trick?"

“Only he can go, you can’t,” he says.

“…there are still Lazarus Pits I have to destroy.” He seemed sad at the memory; it was another thing that surprised him about Magno, so sincere in his reactions, his voice, his body language.

“Is that all?”

“And his silence?”

“Okay.” Magno turns to look at him, still holding his hand. “I’ll give you my things so you have enough supplies. You have to be on time; you can’t miss the deadline, okay? You could stay in the past forever. Stay safe, eat, wash your hands as much as you can, but don’t let people see you too clean. Really, don’t get sick with anything.”

“Just like that? I promise not to say anything about this, and that’s it? Who is he?” He asked, barely lowering his voice, his voice filled with urgency.

“He’s the Time Ghost. He can’t touch what happens to the living, but he always finds someone to do it for him.”

“You owe the Time Ghost.”

“It’s more complicated than that, actually,” he replied, arranging all his things inside, then pushed him forward.

“You know you shouldn’t make a mess when you’re there,” said the… ghost? Floating toward them, a clock appeared, transforming into a portal. “To return, you must be at the following coordinates at this time and date. If you miss the portal, the next one won’t open for 10 years. I recommend you don’t miss it.” He handed him a piece of paper with coordinates written on it. “Good luck, Timothy.”

“Wait, I have more questions,” he complained.

“You go get Bruce. I’ll take care of Conner. We’ll see each other, Tim… someday in the future.” Magno pushed him toward the portal, seeing him with that sad smile.

“Wait!” he shouted, but ended up falling to Earth.

The clock-shaped portal closed.

"…Who are you really?…"

He returns to Bruce after what feels like an eternity, unable to say anything about how he got to Bruce, nor about what he did before.

Everyone is happy that Bruce is back; Dick apologizes to him, crying.

Conner and Bart are still dead…

There's always a price, isn't there?

More Lazarus Pits have disappeared. Bruce is shocked to discover that the League of Assassins has been eliminated, that Talia is dead. Damien is different too; he no longer seems like a spoiled brat, not really, he seems more lost.

He can't confess what he did.

It's the worst part of his personality; he doesn't really regret it, and neither does Dick. He always hated Talia; he only seems to regret feeling happy about it.

He feels so lost that he resembles Damian. Or does Damian resemble him? He no longer knows.

Conner is still dead. Bruce hadn't handled it well either; he began to regret being Conner and not an extension of Jason.

It's as if Bruce never learned his lesson; he doesn't appreciate them until they're dead.

The mystery gnaws at him, but he has no way of getting that information. He wonders what kind of favor Magno received for helping the Time Ghost, if it was worth it, if when they meet again it will be many years in the future.

It seemed that he actually knew him, perhaps from his own time.

He has dodged all the questions on the subject; in fact, he defends himself with a "I was saving Bruce, why are you asking me?" with that tired expression.

He already knew he wouldn't feel guilty for all the lives he took; he follows the code because it's a "job requirement," not because he truly believes in it, not like Cass.

Cass doesn't ask him, not when he says he doesn't want to talk about it.

Someone is inside his house. He doesn't even have time to prepare himself before the door is ripped off its hinges, and he sees Conner. The clothes he was buried in are a mess, covered in dirt and tears.

"Tim?" His voice is hoarse, but there's so much there.

Maybe it's just a dream.

Actually, it's not a dream. When he wakes up again, he's still entangled with Conner.

There's no explanation for why Conner returned out of nowhere, emerging from his grave. He almost doesn't care; stranger things have happened.

Bruce is also happy to have Conner back.

They won't let him go for anything in the world.

He doesn't go far. He's real. He's there.

"Do you remember anything?" Steph asked, a little morbidly curious.

"I'm not sure, it's all weird. I feel like something happened, but I don't know what it was," he replied.

Although he already knew that, her next concern was that someone might examine the state of Conner's soul.

"Although you know what I've been thinking? Superboy is a ridiculous name."

Superboy is a ridiculous name.

He paused for only a few seconds but returned to it, the same words. He'd heard that before.

"Supernova is better, more original."

Supernova is better, more original.

"Although I kept the jacket, it's my personal brand," he laughed. "But the name?"

Although the jacket has style, it's his personal brand, but the name?

“I’m thinking of changing the suit, some studs like stars or something.”

The suit would look better with some studs like stars or something, I don’t know about the Red style but, Supernova is definitely a better name.

“Supernova is definitely a better name.”

I’ll take care of Conner.

“Hey, I was also going to ask, whose was this?” He took an earring out of his pocket. “I had it when I left.”

“Are those for your daughter?”

“Not exactly.” He laughed, handing one to her. “Keep one for me, Red.”

“Friendship bracelets? Really? You flatter me.” He had laughed, but secretly that simple, silly gesture had made him happy.

“You have to give meaningful things to the people you care about. Red is my color.”

He had to make up an excuse to leave. Pretending that everything was fine, he went to his room, grabbed a fake camera he uses to store small things, and took out the other earring.

When he was thrown into the past, he thought the earring was for when he returned, for the future. If the day came when Magnus's daughter appeared before him, it would be with that earring—easy, classic. So he kept it.

But Conner had it. It was a different sign, proof that Magnus had somehow managed to bring Conner back. But why? Who was he? Was he really from the future? At what price?

Perhaps the League of Assassins had created that girl. Maybe he had already taken his daughter and was only going to get rid of Ra's al Ghul to avoid a worse future.

He wanted to know what had happened.

For Conner to have the earring, he would have had to have been buried with it or have used magic to make it appear alongside him, but it didn't seem as new as his own.

"What did you do?" he asked the void.

When Conner returns, he goes by the name Supernova. He wears an embroidered patch on his leather jacket that closely resembles his own symbol, but Conner insists it's an eagle because the embroidered stars form the constellation Aquila. There's a stronger space theme; the "S" is stylized differently. Bruce somehow likes it better, perhaps because of its possessive nature.

But he's the same; he also likes the new changes, which are more inspired by his Red Robin costume.

Zatanna assures him that Conner's soul is intact, safe.

Conner's new earrings resemble a pair Magnus had kept.

There are small things that seem out of the ordinary, but there are no explanations, none he can find.

Conner confesses that although he doesn't remember much, he has this feeling that he was safe, as if someone was by his side protecting him. It makes him feel nothing for Clark anymore; he feels lighter, even with Bruce.

He doesn't even know if he can tell her the truth, but he appreciates it.

Shortly afterwards Bart also returns with a melody stuck in his head that whistles and makes his hair stand on end. It's a whistling sound, like a bird, in the form of a song he'd heard before.

___________________

For just the first part, so much has happened! All of this stemmed from imagining Jaybin running away with a baby, her cape billowing in the wind as she disappears into the night. So Jason didn't die! He's just a teenage mother with a baby. Since he never died, there is no Lazarus Pit, so Jaybin barely grows, even if I generously imagine him to be 5'7", he is slender, looks very young and all his strength comes from being liminal.

Clockwork left vague clues about Jason and Danny's situation so that anyone could draw their own conclusions, but when Tim had gone almost four days without sleep, fueled by energy drinks and with resentment coursing through his veins, he came up with crazy theories about what was going on: "I've figured it out!" (He hasn't figured out a damn thing). Clockwork saw the theory, found it amusing, and said, "I can make it happen."

It's basically almost Terry McGinnis's backstory, but applied to Jason with extra and confusing steps, including Danny. Jason blames Tim and Clockwork, but mostly Tim, because it was his theory, and now he has a son with Superman! Even though Jason hugged Conner, he still blames Tim.

With Jason missing instead of dead, Bruce is always on the verge of collapse, trying to possess everything that belongs to Jason, who he later discovers is his biological son! Don't overthink how Sheila has Danny; it just happened. Mysteriously, there are security cameras nearby.

I imagine Dick would feel much worse when he starts his own investigation. They were just improving their relationship, and he feels a great deal of resentment towards Bruce for how he isolated Jason and is also annoyed that he never realized. He gets very angry when he sees Tim as Robin, but he softens.

Tim is buzzing with excitement over all the mystery. When conner is rescued, he really wished Conner could be his, in his crazy theory. Tim and Conner have a strange relationship because Tim is technically his uncle, but he also feels like a brother/younger friend, but also something more; they're simply codependent.

Poor Conner doesn't know what's going on. Clark despised him for just a few seconds. The good thing is that Lex isn't his other dad anymore; now he has Batman as a grandfather (who fails miserably because he also can't handle the fact that he's Jason's son), but at least he has Tim. Tim is his anchor. His custody is complicated because Bruce can't stand having him so far away, but Gotham isn't good for Conner. He doesn't feel accepted for who he is.

Steph is still having a hard time, but for the opposite reason. Bruce is overprotective of her, but at least she doesn't die.

Damian isn't having an easy time. He's not the only biological son; he can't compete against Jaybin, nor against Conner (if he's the heir of the demon because he's Ra's al Ghul's grandson, then the same logic applies to Conner because he's Batman's grandson). Bruce is lost in time; his grandfather, mother, and old home have disappeared forever. Conner is dead, Tim is gone, and Dick is barely hanging on.

Even when Bruce, Tim, and Conner return, everything has been forever warped.

Constantine can now have a small family that won't die, or something close to it, so he takes care of them. Billy joins the family by chance, like a little brother or cousin.

"Interestingly," the fact that they'll be hidden from evil for 15 years seems like a fairy-tale curse about to come true.

See you later ~

[lukyan-chan]

DCXDP One-shot The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

To achieve peace, two kings decide to overthrow a hero.

Warning: Lots of angst, characters presumed dead, Jason has suicidal and homicidal tendencies but makes a friend, Danny is tired but makes a friend. Death/suicide of unnamed background characters. Jason doesn't have a criminal organization, he has an Battalion! The villain Jason Todd. I wrote this on a bad day, so it's more sentimental and a bit off-topic, the dysfunctional Bat-family going crazy in the background, the Justice League missed a lot, John Constantine commits many crimes to maintain the planet he lives on. It's me and the English translator against the world, and canon is a joke. It's a very long one-shot

_________________

The Gotham City is worse than he imagined, the ecto ambiental is horrendous, now he understands why the place is so cursed, he wants to leave but he has something to do first.

Jazz says he's being petty, though she herself seems to be trying to let it go, but she can't. The situation in Amity Park finally collapsed. It's incredible how the Justice League ignored everything, as if it were so difficult to notice Vortex in Venice, not to mention everything else.

The one who appeared was John Constantine, just as demented because no one had noticed him.

The thing is simple, really: John Constantine is a cunning bastard who will do whatever it takes to save himself, keep his head above water, and prevent someone from taking his soul. He'll do anything.

When he learned that someone had awakened Pariah, that someone had defeated him and was the new king, he had to investigate whether he should abandon the dimension or find a way to survive. So when he arrived in Amity Park, he saw him and said he'd help if he kept him safe, and Danny was tired, okay?

Tired of the men in white, tired of Vlad, tired of his parents, tired of the ghosts that kept attacking, tired of sorting things out.

I have several rights to your soul; I'll give them back to you as long as you fix this shit.

Some demons thought it would be fun to get rid of their rights to Constantine's soul, and he could actually go after the others.

Sam had negotiated more on his behalf, but that made things easier.

Vlad was more trouble, but John was motivated. Vlad thought he knew everything, that he was so clever, but John didn't fool Lucifer by being stupid. He didn't even want the details. The blond guy just showed him a red lava lamp where Vlad was trapped like a genie in a bottle. He was going to be in a safe place where they would never see his face again.

Amity Park was history now. Everyone had been relocated once they learned how John had done it. They erased the town; Sam's residual powers helped conceal what remained with vegetation.

Aunt Alicia didn't ask why her sister seemed so disconnected from reality, as if she'd forgotten who she'd really been. She just looked at Jazz and him. Maddy, who believed had an accident, that the doctor had said life in the country would be best. Maddy, who believed she'd divorced her husband because she'd gone through a midlife crisis and left them behind years ago. Maddie, who was happy to be Alicia's sister again, didn't ask any questions about Jack.

Jack had been dumped with a distant cousin, who turned out to be a good cook. Jack, who believed Maddie had left him to run off with Vlad (that hologram of Maddie Vlad had kept was actually quite useful), remembered nothing about ghosts. They said it was the trauma, and the cousin was more than happy not to mention ghosts, Maddie, or the "breakdown."

Perhaps the worst part was realizing that without their obsession with ghosts, they were the version of their parents they used to love, but neither of them could forget, nor did they want to. This was the greatest mercy they could offer their parents, even if they didn't deserve it.

Tucker committed tax fraud using Vlad's company, as well as money laundering to use crown funds, which served to pay for everything they needed.

Mr. Lancer was retired and sent to a nice, quiet place where he could spend his days without financial worries.

They did the same for Valerie's father, and she went to live with him in another country.

Grandma Ida was the other adult who knew everything. She actually commented on whether they could make her daughter less…stuck-up, but she managed to find her a hobby.

The Foleys went to Canada, their lives settled, understanding everything they had been through, and they were given time.

Jazz decided she wanted to go to Cambridge, not to be a psychiatrist, not anymore. She actually wanted to be a lawyer now.

That left Sam, Tucker, and Danny back where they started. Constantine asked them what they wanted to do now. There was no more portal, no more agents, no more Vlad, no more ghosts, and no more Fentons.

Sam wanted to know why the Justice League ignored them. What made them go unnoticed?

That took John longer, but he had some ideas about why they had gone unnoticed. A combination of incidents, the Flash family's stubborn refusal to believe in the supernatural, some Green Lanterns not believing their words, the Watchtower system blocking all their calls after numerous attempts, the discovery that Captain Marvel had actually been a child all along, thus limiting his ability to act, and Batman's disdain for the Fentons and Vlad stemming from an incident many years prior when the Fentons sought funding.

Danny searched for the clock to find out what had happened there. He discovered that Batman was Bruce Wayne, that many years ago Jack and Maddie had sought funding, and that Bruce, disgusted by his parents' way of thinking, rejected them, confiscating some of their plans just in case. Ultimately, he sent them away, and Batman destroyed all the other documents. This was before Jazz was born.

Apparently, Batman was involved in the Fentons' eventual exodus to Amity, unaware that it was Batman's doing.

John didn't help with Batman.

That guy never knows when to stop. If he finds you, he'll take everything. His paranoia won't stop. He'll search for every blood flower, every amulet, everything to fight the ghosts. He'll find a way to eliminate you. And he has too many equally intense children.

Danny was already terrified of Batman. Knowing that he was somehow involved with his parents and that they lived in Amity didn't help either. Sam had been more vocal about hating the guy.

Clockwork also gave him a warning about Bruce Wayne. He could be an ally or an obstacle. The Bats possessed a curiosity, paranoia, and a need to know everything. Like opening Pandora's box, they wouldn't rest until they found out—a curse.

Not everyone was like that; some might understand that they shouldn't keep digging, but if Batman found out the wrong way, it would be the end of the peace they had achieved.

Danny was tired of being good, tired, so tired of fighting, and asked his mentor, "What do you suggest?" Clockwork showed him Red Hood.

"Do you want to distract him? He's the key. You can help him or not, but whatever you do will push Batman away from you."

The ghosts in Gotham were gossipy; they wanted to cozy up to the Ghost King, even Lady Gotham, to whom he hadn't said why he was there—he was just wandering, thinking.

The truth was, he needed some blood from the entire "Batfamily" for a spell Constantine was casting, to keep them away. Eventually, Lady Gotham would realize he wanted something from them, but he would simply either hit her or put her in the thermos. If Vortex, Undergrowth, and Nocturne could all fit in the thermos, Lady Gotham could too.

The ghosts whispered about Red Hood; he had been Robin, the Joker had killed Robin, and Batman chose the clown.

Another reason to distrust him!

What I noticed was that Red Hood was sick. Clockwork said he could help him or not.

___________________

He sensed something, not evil, but something.

The boy appeared before him without fear, seemingly weary of the world, with a look that suggested he'd seen terrible things and knew he wasn't from Gotham.

"What do you want?" he asked cautiously.

"They told me to come see you," the boy said, no older than Tim.

"Who?"

"The ghosts. There's a girl near you, Gloria." His words made him even more alert.

"She says 'thank you and I'm sorry.' Thank you because you really wanted to kill her abuser. Garzonas? And she's sorry that caused all this, but she still seems worried about you, like everyone else."

"The dead talk to you, kid?" he questioned, still suspicious.

“They’re gossips, but nobody listens to them, so when someone does, they say a lot. They’re worried about you, Mr. Todd.”

“I guess the dead don’t respect secret identities” he complained. “So you came because they asked you to?”

“I’m hungry” he blurted out. “Shall we get hamburgers?”

“So you’re just going to eat hamburgers with a crime lord? Do you even have a survival instinct?”

“I’m already dead, Mr. Todd. Your guns aren’t going to kill me any more than I already am” he said calmly, walking toward him at a leisurely pace.

“You look very much alive, and you want food.”

“I like to eat, even if technically I don’t need it anymore, like breathing. You look very much alive too, Mr. Todd, but you’re dead.”

“Don’t call me Mr. Todd,” he complained. “Call me Red Hood or whatever.” The boy radiated cold even though he was only a meter away. Up close, he looked paler, as if he’d been through hell. “I can still kill you.”

“Your swords aren’t going to do anything to me. It’ll burn a little, which will be very annoying because I prefer the cold, but you’ll feel worse” he warned. “You must know some good burger places.”

“And your name?”

“Danny”

I took the kid to a Batburger that was still open just outside Crime Alley. The kid seemed hungry, but I noticed his chest wasn't moving, his blinking was more sporadic, and he was so pale. The dark circles under his eyes made him look even more gaunt and tired.

His clothes were simple too: a worn purple hoodie, old jeans, a NASA logo t-shirt, and sneakers that had seen better days. To top it all off, his messy black hair, which fell slightly over his face, and his blue eyes made him look like a Wayne adoption bait, even though the blue of his eyes was so light.

“What’s your plan?”

“Have you heard the saying, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?” he blurted out, taking a sip of his soda.

“We have the same enemy?” he asked, incredulous.

“Do you want the full context or the short version?”

"The whole story is fine, but don't push yourself, kid" he sighed.

"Here" he handed him his phone, an old thing but with a pre-made interface, while stealing his fries.

How bad can it be?

It turns out it's really bad, truly horrible. The strange thing is, he didn't feel the slightest pull from the pit; in fact, he hadn't felt it since Danny showed up.

The ectoplasm looked very similar to the Lazarus Pit.

The kid needs help; he can do that.

"You need help with this? Is that why you came to Gotham?"

“No, we already sorted all that out, but I’m tired, Hood. I want to disappear and exist in peace.”

“What are you looking for here? Peace is the last thing you’ll find here.”

“I was warned about Batman. I don’t want him near me, don’t want him to find out. There are things the living don’t need to know. They won’t stop. If I make my move first, he won’t find me.”

“Are you telling me that, kid?”

“I have good things to offer.”

“I’m listening.” He smiled, crossing his arms.

“The contaminated green substance that’s causing you problems, I can remove it. I’ll get it out for you.”

“The Lazarus Pit has no cure, Danny.”

“You haven’t felt it since we met, have you?” He smiled, so the boy knew. “I can give you the Joker, and Batman won't be able to stop you. You'll get justice for everyone else and for yourself. Say what you want, and I'll give it to you.”

“In exchange for what? Preventing Batman and his gang from ever finding out about you? Covering your tracks?”

“I need his blood to cast this spell.” He pulled a book from somewhere, a grimoire, and opened it to the marked page. “To keep them away from me, you can be there when we do it. I want peace and quiet.”

He read the spell. The boy was serious; he didn't want the Bats on his tail, not even by accident.

The idea of ​​no longer having to suffer in the pit was so tempting. Eliminating the Joker without anyone stopping him was too, but he was risking too much. If Bruce didn't realize what was happening, Alfred, Barbara, Cass, and Tim would.

“Anything?” he asked carefully.

“Anything” he assured me. “I can even change the past, though only a little. My dad is helping too.”

______________

Things were moving at a slow pace, even for Gotham. No one wanted to think about whether the patrol could keep up that slow pace.

Then an explosion shook everything, thousands of colorful fireworks lighting up the night sky.

“It’s Fun Village, the Joker!” Barbara warned. “He’s… he’s not in Arkham!”

“Where’s Red Hood?” Bruce asked anxiously.

“Holy shit, he’s here!” Steph exclaimed. “What the hell, Hood?!” Soon the line was cut short by the sound of gunfire.

“I think something’s controlling Hood,” Barbara said as half of them searched for the Joker and the other half for Jason.

“What makes you think that?” Dick questioned

“The parts of his arms that I can see and how he moves. The veins in his arms look black, he moves as if his body is rigid, his helmet is broken, he just knocked Spoiler unconscious, he's taken out Black Mask from what I could see, Black Mask did something to him, be careful, he's not holding back.”

“Just Black Mask?” Tim asked

“And his men, all of them, I don't know where he's going but he just stole a car.”

“Hood said Black Mask was working on a new drug, he must have drugged him and it backfired” Tim commented, away from Jason.

Red Hood's next stop seemed to be the Penguin's club. He drove straight in and then plowed into everyone inside, starting a fire.

He moved fast, his body more fluid.

Dick was the first to arrive, grimacing at the mess. His brother seemed to be looking for another car to escape in. He was no longer wearing his helmet; Dick could see the black veins of his exposed skin from afar, along with the blood.

“Hood!” He yelled to get their attention.

When Hood turned to look at him, he had blood on his face, a huge grin on his face, and the dominoes couldn't hide the green glow in his eyes.

"Big Bird."

Dick wasn't reassured by his nickname, but the next second he started shooting. "Whatever Masc hit him with reacted to the pit; his eyes are glowing too brightly," he warned.

_____________

He watched from a distance, taking advantage of Hood beating his 'family.' There were many things there he didn't want to touch, but this was apparently serving as a great release for the crime lord.

Hood had already given him the blood of Red Robin and Black Bat. Oracle would be much more difficult, so he would have to stop time for a few seconds to get her blood. Hood also wanted a similar spell, something to keep people away from his territory. Among them were several dangerous individuals and a strange fellow who bathed in corrupted ecto, but it was something easy to do.

John agreed to perform the spell for a large sum of money, which Hood himself readily paid. Gotham's magic would be twisted in such a way that no one would be able to discover that it was John who did it.

It helped that purifying Hood awakened his powers; he had understood this quickly, actually. But the crime lord wanted something physical to blame to conceal his own abilities, so that when the time was right, Hood would use the virus that Tucker and Tecnus had created to destroy any possibility that Oracle or any bat could find information.

Red Hood turned out to be quite capable of cooking very well. They were staying in one of his safe houses, so they could enjoy good food while things unfolded.

Danny finds it very curious that Red Hood is okay with the idea of ​​hitting Nightwing, Spoiler, Black Bat, Batman, and Robin, but had no intention of going after Red Robin, and that what he actually wanted erased was having hurt Red Robin when he was Robin.

Although he was much gentler with Spoiler and had no plans to hit Signal either.

He had already dealt with Lady Gotham. In the end, it turned out that even if he tried not to hit her so hard, she still died. She was already very fragile due to the state Gotham was in, so the vigilantes lost that touch of theirs. This was noticeable in the way the shadows no longer sheltered them, except for Hood, who had his own.

______________

The tranquilizers didn't work on Red Hood, who was being ruthless, unrestrained, barely recognizing them. Nightwing had fallen; his leg was badly fractured, and the concussion was going to be severe.

He had already fled in another car. It took Barbara about 10 minutes to realize, through a security camera, that Jason had a phone and then threw it out the car window.

Reports of other incidents were coming in. The other mafia families had problems, and now they had another problem: Jason still had people under his command.

Barbara knew that there were people truly loyal to Jason, faithful enough to follow specific orders. She had discovered this long ago in a series of diaries that Cass managed to photograph because, for plans like this, Jason wouldn't put them in something she could trace; he would have put them on easily burnable paper.

Jason had a nuclear plan: an order to certain people, and he would initiate a massacre. All the rogues, mafia families, anyone Jason had ever wanted dead had to die. Once the targets were dead, most of the enforcers would commit suicide. A few others would remain hidden to ensure the final part: Jason also had to die. If Bruce, along with all of them, captured Jason, the few remaining enforcers had different ways to achieve the objective of freeing or killing Jason and then themselves.

She didn't know how, but Jason assured her that he could get his people to steal his body for cremation. He had no plans to return under any circumstances.

She never told anyone about the plan; telling Bruce wasn't an option. She knew the man would only make things worse.

Bruce underestimates how loyal people can be to their children. The true extent of that loyalty and faith, the different faith people feel for Jason compared to the faith they have for Dick.

Years ago, he had said that Jason would never be like Dick. That was true, it still was. Dick wouldn't exploit the faith people had in him; he didn't want to touch that influence. But Jason was aware of how his people were; he was like them, he had always been a part of them.

Jason was implementing this plan for some reason, as if he had lost his will to live. They had to stop him by any means necessary.

"Things are going to get worse," she said, checking every person he could think of that Jason might want dead, which, frankly, was a lot of people.

Then, as he expected, she started losing cameras everywhere, especially in Arkham.

"What's going on?" Cass asked,

“I think Hood is suicidal right now.” Admitting it out loud was awful. There were small sounds of surprise over the communications. “He’s going to kill everyone and then himself.”

______________

Fighting Cass is much harder, but he has dealt with two faces sides at least. The only good thing about facing Cass is that he can bring out all his feelings, every pain, every sadness and frustration, every "save me" that no one heard. Sometimes he intentionally falters, although he has help there, he holds his head at opportune moments, tries to stop a movement, and cries.

Then he manages to land a good blow on Cass that sends her flying, and hopes that it will at least knock her unconscious so that he can escape.

He gasps for air out of habit, because he's supposed to be breathing, it's supposed to be normal, and then he gives Barbs some images through the cameras of how he brings the gun to his head, but his arm stays there for a few seconds before he lowers it, puts the gun away with trembling hands, and moves on.

He's surprised that Barbs hasn't told the others about one of her final plans until now, but that works in her favor.

A car stops nearby, he walks towards it and gets in.

Inside, one of his men gives him something to drink. The nearby cameras must already be broken. As they pass through a busy street, he activates intangibility and invisibility, enough for the car to change direction until they reach the second car they'll get into.

This whole being more dead than alive thing is actually pretty cool. There had to be some good in dying.

The next phases of the plan are underway. Most of the mafias should be history, obviously, and the rest will take a little time, but that's okay.

Danny said he wanted to handle the Court of Owls a bit, something about protecting the Talons and making sure there aren't any more in the future, also some theft and money laundering. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to teach those three how to launder money quickly using other rich people? But these guys deserve a quiet life, so he lets it go.

The Court should pay out somehow, quietly, as much as they like being in the shadows.

He's having a manic psychotic episode to fake, caused by some drug overdose.

Why hadn't he carried out that plan?

Oh, right, the Joker. There's a good chance they'll throw him in Arkham, but since the Joker is already dead, he doesn't have to worry about that. If only he could eliminate Bane faster without raising suspicion, it would be almost perfect.

Although he's going through a psychotic episode, so he could go kill the guy himself right now…

_____________

The three of them are surprised! Actually, the plan to fake madness really works for Red Hood!

That gave them time to deal with the court case. A curse is easier to pin on Gotham.

So they just watch the drama unfold, making sure Red Hood achieves his goals.

"It's over," Tucker announced. "Enough money in our pockets to do whatever we want and donate to all the organizations Sam wants."

"Excellent," she celebrated. "Do you think they'll call for help for Hood?"

“No,” was all he said, still watching all the action from afar. “Don’t meta's with Gotham, not for Hood,” he replied to Sam. “That road trip we never did the way we wanted…we should do it.”

“Once everything’s done, we can travel the world. I’ve always wanted to go to this botanical garden in London,” Sam said softly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

None of them had felt hopeful for a long time. The school could wait until they felt more like people than survivors, until they could be at peace in a classroom again.

This time they had time; hope no longer felt like a joke.

“I want to go to a beach, with one of those drinks with little colorful umbrellas, lobster, a jacuzzi,” Tucker blurted out, also in a low voice, like a secret.

“The biggest gothic festival in the world in Germany.”

“All those street food stalls in China.”

“Real matcha tea, not the Starbucks kind, real matcha.”

“I want to go skiing,” he blurted out, holding his breath even more than he already does, but Sam and Tucker looked at him, more hope, a small smile. “I want to go steal from NASA, a real astronaut suit.”

“So, can we steal Michael Jackson’s red jacket?” Tucker asked.

“Why not?” He smiled at his friends, thinking, "I want to try as many burgers as I can."

"I'll take the barbecue! Shall we go to New Orleans?" Tucker suggested.

"To Mardi Gras," Sam chimed in.

Hope felt good. "I want to go to Venice and enjoy it."

"Carnival!" Sam blurted out.

"I'm getting to the trap!" Tucker showed them the screen; Batman was already in position.

Time to move for the show.

_______________

Tim wants to make it clear that once this is over, he's going to punch Jason.

What kind of suicide plan is this?

So Jason has a select group of men who:

Are highly trained in weapons, infiltration, and stealth.

Have enough spite, intelligence, and a willingness to die for a cause, but are calm enough to wait as sleeper agents.

Have a twisted loyalty to Jason that they're willing to commit suicide for him. Suicide! Not to die in some gang war from a stray bullet, not to die on some highly dangerous mission as a risk everyone assumes, something that comes with the job—no, these people have orders to commit suicide! Once their targets are reached, with enough bullets in their bodies or some other method, they would then calmly go to a pre-planned location to commit suicide ON JASON'S ORDERS. THESE PEOPLE WERE GOING TO COMMIT SUICIDE! All so they would never have to pay for their crimes!

PEOPLE WHO HAD ORDERS TO KILL JASON HIMSELF!

Barbara was mobilizing the entire police force in Gotham because—and this is what you need to know about Jason—he's organized, very organized. He has lists of people he wants dead, ordered by who he wants dead as soon as possible. The most urgent.

It's a long list, many names. Number 1 is the Joker, and number 2 is every possible rogue. From number 3 down were rapists, pedophiles, and other criminals.

Jason kept these death lists as a way to relax, like people who plan their suicide for the distant future and then go through with it…looking back, that was a huge red flag they ignored.

Had Jason always been suicidal? Like this? Clever enough to have recruited his executioners and for none of them to back out.

What you need to know about these lists is that they're always changing. Urgency shifts the names, or when Jason talks to a victim, they decide they don't want their attacker dead. But these are long lists that he doesn't share.

Sometimes he's grateful that something like the Death Note doesn't exist in his world because Jason would undoubtedly fill those pages.

There are two riots happening, one in Arkham and the other in Blackgate. Unfortunately, any evidence of the drug Black Mask used on Jason had been lost because there was a fire in the basement of the building, which of course later exploded. He was just checking and found Steph was only knocked out with some bruises and a bullet in her leg.

"Forget the Joker, he must be dead by now. We need to stop Hood."

Jason had already taken down Cass, gotten into a car, and disappeared. Jason might even be dead already.

"Nightwing has arrived at the cave," Alfred reported. "I'll need Dr. Leslie."

"Black Bat is on her way," Damian reported. "I'll go get her."

"Batman?" he asked, confused. Bruce has been silent. “Batman ” he called.

Jason harbors a lot of resentment toward Bruce. If he's deranged enough, he might be looking for him.

“I see Batman moving. His vital signs are a mess, like it's the fear toxin. He's unresponsive, but he's moving,” Barbara reported. “The images of the cowl aren't responding.”

Cass, Steph, and Dick are incapacitated. Only Robin and he remain. What if something happened to Batman, along with a deranged Red Hood?

“We need backup.”

“I have images. Oh my God! We have to call Superman now!”

Barbara is horrified by what she sees.

Batman seems to be just as agitated as Hood, because he started attacking him brutally.

Batman is covered in blood. Hood makes a sound, a signal. Shooters are nearby, not only targeting Batman, but most of the bullets are hitting Hood.

The sound of gunfire freezes Bruce in place once he's locked his seat, but more shots follow. He can only watch as a van pulls up next to Jason's body and drives away.

"Stop that van!"

______________

Jason has too much work to do, that's the reality.

With all the important members of Gotham's crime families dead, along with other drug lords also dead, it leaves a gang war where no one knows where to turn, not with all the potential bosses more than dead.

Luckily for Jason, he had planned this for a long time, fantasizing about this in those early days when he debuted as Red Hood, something this big, this powerful.

His alias and new suit are also ready; he had been killed in a very public way, his heart rate had changed, his eyes had turned blue again. By the time Bruce wakes up, everything will be ready, no one to blame!

First, he'll have a breakdown because he'll believe he's killed "innocent" people, not just the Joker. His memories will be hazy enough, and the security camera footage will be there soon enough to make it impossible to stop him. He broke Dick's leg, shot Steph in the leg too, though without seriously damaging anything vital, and knocked Cass unconscious with a less severe leg fracture. Overall, all three have severe concussions that will keep them bedridden.

Only Red Robin, Signal, and Robin are available to deal with a gang war, two riots, and the mess he left behind.

Long live faking a manic episode!

It also served him well to release all that pent-up resentment. Dick took it worse in that regard, but at least all the other villains he took down also got something that makes him feel much better.

It would have been more cathartic to yell at Bruce, but he's not complaining. He released a lot of that fury with Bane. The others will take a while to discover his body; it's no big deal.

For now, he has to take down all organized crime in the city, and honor the men and women who died for him.

Is it hypocritical of him to have a small Battalion? No, because they are all adult men and women who chose this path, without any illusion of glory. None of them wanted glory for this plan; they wanted peace, to end it all, and to rest. They are not people deceived by an idea of ​​glory and heroism; they are not children! The youngest of them was 47 years old.

They were people who sometimes made him uncomfortable because they had this faith and loyalty toward him that he felt he didn't deserve, that he couldn't give them more. He wanted to live up to their expectations, for them, and he always felt he was failing, but they wanted this; they wanted him too. They believed in him and in what he could achieve.

He felt that the more he tried to win back his family, the more he failed them, the more he betrayed their feelings, but they understood.

They still saw him as a child, a teenager really, who had been robbed of everything, like all of them, and who was trapped in this limbo.

He cared about his people, his alley, his town. Now he knows that some of those feelings stemmed from the fact that he was actually thinking like a dead man. Crime Alley was his refuge, the place that haunted and protected him. All the people in it were his.

His to protect, his to see them happy, his so they could be free.

And Jason only wanted that for his children, his hardworking girls, and his merry men.

He wants them to have opportunities, to eat, to have a home, and to be safe.

He is a guardian spirit, he always has been a protector, both in life and in death.

He also knows what it's like to lose everything, even purpose, waiting for the end. Some of those people no longer had the will to live. They wanted this, they believe in this, and they want peace. I always give them the opportunity to repent, to show them they didn't have to do it. I could fake their deaths, give them enough money for a comfortable retirement somewhere, with the peace they sought. Some took it. They decided they wanted to be different people, to leave everything in Gotham and, when the time came, to leave.

He will hold funerals that are truly beautiful for them, for his men, for his group. They will be buried with all the honor and dignity they deserve, or their bodies will be cremated as they wished.

These are names he will not forget. They are important to him. They are not nameless soldiers who can be sacrificed without a second thought.

His people will not die in vain. They will not be forgotten. They will not be an example or a cautionary tale for those who come after.

These are people with tragic lives who chose to leave in the way they chose, ridding the city of various evils; real people with real lives, with real suffering and real hope; people who fought, who endured, and who chose to say, “I’m tired, I deserve to rest and do it my way.”

So, in reality, their tears are real, not an act; they are not fake; their pain is not fake. These are their people, their men and women who understood what it is to be born into the misery that is Gotham, born from its depths, forged by all the cruelty and turmoil, surviving it all, without surrendering. Not truly. Choosing death can be a relief; the pain never goes away. Sometimes hope dies forever. Sometimes stopping is being kind to yourself instead of hurting yourself more.

He will fight every war for his people, for Gotham. He will weep for them while he fights; he will weep for them when he returns to say goodbye to the others, to those who remain alive.

A different helmet, still red.

There's no bat symbol this time, even if they reconcile (which he highly doubts), he doesn't need it anymore.

Just as planned, Roy arrives first, startled by the voicemail he received.

"You're alive!"

"Not really," he replies to the archer, not bothering to wipe away his tears. "It'll be a long few days."

"What the hell, Jaybird?"

______________

The town is a disaster, that's a fact. It seems like chaos, but there's control within this chaos, created by Red Hood.

His tracks have been erased. Red Hood even says that in a few days, the Oracle system and the cave will be affected, completing the plan.

Red Hood also invites them to the funerals, which they attend with all due respect.

Danny understands. Even if the people of Amity Park didn't want him there, Amity Park was his, its people were his too. Letting them go, getting them out of there, even though a part of him wanted to keep them there because they belonged there, and he screamed every time he took each family, each person, away.

The people of Amity Park were his. He set them free, safe, even if it tore him apart inside because he wanted to see them safe.

Erasing all traces of his existence felt like losing something precious, something Sam and Tucker might not fully understand.

So Danny understands Red Hood differently for allowing his people, his men and women, to make this decision, for setting them free in this way.

They are protectors spirits.

Red Hood will mourn the people he set free who chose peace for themselves.

He will mourn the residents of Amity Park who are far from where they belonged but are safe now; he will mourn the town that no longer exists.

Someday, after his journey, perhaps someday when he feels at home somewhere else and makes it his own, he won't be replacing the first one. One child doesn't replace another; they aren't organs that can be transplanted and easily accepted. People aren't truly replaceable.

His only solace is knowing that all his people are safe, that he can visit some or say goodbye to others.

Mr. Lancer, for example, won't be able to rest easy if he doesn't hear from them soon.

So Danny is also forgiving, giving simple orders and making sure Hood's people are safe on the other side.

Danny can almost see it, Robin, he means. Dead children will always be dead children. Red Hood doesn't even bother to hide his identity, his tears, his weeping. He's not ashamed to show himself like this in front of all his people. He looks like a child who has lost his entire family. Moving among the coffins and urns, with small sobs, moans of pain, crying, his fists clenched, and a red-haired man beside him holding him.

He can almost see Robin more than Red Hood, the imposing crime boss and vigilante. The second Robin, the one who cared more about the people, his people, his fight.

Danny wonders if the other people can see it too.

Danny wonders if Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie were looking at him like that too. People had died in Amity Park, ghosts had been erased from Amity Park, and Danny feels their pain even if he never speaks to them in life or death.

So he makes small ice flowers that look like crystal, different for each coffin and urn, leaves them there, and then makes a bouquet for Red Hood, with an extra flower.

Red Hood is dead too. His funeral, which his brothers and others who might have wanted to attend weren't allowed to attend, was a tragedy. Red Hood was buried under the wrong name, next to the woman who betrayed him to his killer, in the wrong cemetery, only to receive a memorial that reads "a good soldier," not a statue alongside other fallen heroes. A defiled memory.

Robin deserved more than that, not because he was Robin, but because he was a brutally murdered child who never received justice.

Danny almost prefers not having a grave because it would be more painful to receive something that Red Hood received.

So he delivers a bouquet with an extra flower and assures Hood that his people will be safe on the other side.

Red Hood then makes him a symbolic grave, a headstone with his name and stars carved into the slab. The grave is between the Todd family, Willis, Catherine and Jason Todd, and a woman named Natalia Knight. Hood and Arsenal stay there while Sam and Tucker weep, embracing him. There's something akin to peace, something that settles in his chest, and he allows himself to cry as well.

He will leave his hazmat suit down there in the ground later. He thinks Jazz should be there too, but he knows she's not ready yet. He will tell Jazz, give her the address and the means to come.

Danny Fenton is dead. Danny Phantom is gone too, along with his hazmat suit. They rest in a grave without a coffin. All of history, the life before them, has finally returned to the ground.

Jason Todd was killed while he was Robin. Jay Peters, as Red Hood, has also died in a hail of bullets. The mantle of a hero, the light of Gotham that died and returned as something different with a different name, stolen from his own nightmare, is also gone, returned to the ashes that scatter in the wind to be free, never held back, never contained, and never again under the yoke of his former family.

Danyal Nightingale may be Jason Nightingale's friend and cousin. They say goodbye without anyone else noticing. Sam drives out of Gotham with less tension on his shoulders. Tucker sleeps motionless in the back seat, and Sam watches the figure in the rearview mirror shrink until it disappears from sight.

Danny hopes Jason will be alright in the days to come.

Danny also looks at his driver's license, the one Clockwork had given him. He hadn't understood why Danyal instead of Daniel, so now he realizes that Clockwork hoped he would become friends with Jason Todd, close enough for them to exchange names. It had come to him as a suggestion: Nightingale, as he wanted to be, more like a cousin than a brother, because brother is still too soon, but cousin is fine.

Jason had told him that Danyal is a variant of his name.

Because Red Hood had been Talia al Ghul's son in everything but blood or name, but he was once also her son.

As a symbol of their friendship and family bond, written only on paper, where no bat or bird could discover it.

____________

Roy arrives at the mansion suddenly days later; perhaps it's his face that makes Alfred not ask him any questions.

Dick goes up to the mansion, not letting anyone follow him. He has to talk to Roy first, so he moves as quickly as possible to see him. His broken leg doesn't stop him, because if Roy is there, then he's bad and serious. It could be Roy, furious and yelling at them about Jason, but Dick knows that's not the case when he enters the living room and sees his friend.

“No,” he says, because he still holds onto hope, because he can’t go through this again, “Roy.”

“I came for a few things and… I can only give you this.” He pulls out a small box, almost like a ring box, barely 10 x 10 centimeters, made of polished black wood. Roy hands her the box very gently, his expression somber.

“What? What is this?” He asks, on the verge of hysteria

“He wanted you to have it, to see.”

“Roy, please,” his voice cracks, “please.”

Roy looks like he’s about to cry right there, but he holds him tightly by the shoulders, dragging him to the nearest armchair. “Listen to me carefully, listen to me.”

“Roy, Roy, no, no, I can’t, it can’t be, please, Roy,” he begs, though he doesn’t quite know what to ask, but Roy seems devastated.

“It’s yours, yours, it belongs only to you. You can’t let anyone take it from you, tell you that you can’t keep it. It’s yours, only yours, so you’re going to keep it and protect it, hide it, but they must never take it from you. This is what he wanted.”

“No, no, no, no, no, why! Why is it like this?!” he shouts. He knows what it is, but it doesn’t make sense. No, Jason was so big, so tall, his body couldn’t have been reduced to this! This little box! It's not enough! No!

The redhead looks even more devastated. “He never felt like he belonged, that everything was conditional, you know…you know how he is, proud, hurt, wounded, a big ‘if I don't belong then they can't have me, I don't belong to them’ kind of thing, so they scattered a good portion of his ashes,” he explained. Dick doesn't know if he's the only one trembling; they're both trembling. Roy's grip is almost painful on his shoulders. “He arranged this, left instructions, took a message with me,” he says. “So this is yours, only yours, only if you want it. So you'll keep it, you won't give it to anyone else, not that bastard Bruce, not Alfred, not Talia, not anyone else, just you.”

He nods through tears. Roy looks at him for a moment, not knowing what Roy is thinking. He can't think. Roy's grip loosens; he's not interested. He can't do this again. It shouldn't be like this again. It shouldn't be just this little box. This tiny box—too tiny!

Little wing.

His little brother, who's back, who's grown up, shouldn't be little again. He can't even hug him properly. Such a small box, barely fitting in his hands.

Something enters his field of vision: a book, a very small hardcover edition, Pride and Prejudice. He looks up.

"I grabbed this loose copy," he confesses softly, murmuring, "just in case."

"Just in case?" he stammers, his voice automatically lowering as well.

"I really don't want anyone but you to have this." He looks at the small box, serious. "As friends… if they ask you what Jay left you, you have this book. Jay left you this book, just this book, understand?"

He opens his eyes. Because of their friendship, an excuse, a kind gesture, perhaps the last, one more secret to keep between them. He nods, gripping the book tightly. Roy gets up to leave the room as he stares at the small box, polished black wood.

He wants to faint, wants to die, wants to wake up. Everything is spinning, but if he loses consciousness, it will be stolen.

If Jason wanted only him to have a portion of his ashes, then so be it. He won't let go, he won't give it to anyone else. His alone, so Bruce can't reach him.

Roy Harper hands a letter to Alfred, who is nearby, shaken, and continues on his way.

When he arrives at the cave, he sees that Bruce Wayne is still in confinement, looking unhinged inside.

He approaches the first vigilante he sees, who turns out to be Spoiler. He takes some keys from his jacket pocket, keys with tags; Spoiler's are easy to spot when the tag is purple.

“Here, safe deposit box, his shelter near the Thai place in Navarow.” He places the key in Steph’s bewildered hand. “Just yours. The nurse asked me to pass this message on her behalf. He’s sorry about the mess in her leg.”

“What?” is all she says.

“Where is he?” Cass asks.

“He’s gone,” is all she replies.

Cass knows Roy Harper isn’t lying. The pain is real, the anger is real, the despair and sadness, even the urge to give up, to collapse. This pain and sadness isn’t fake, it’s not a trick. The redhead approaches her, places a key in her hand, which she clutches tightly.

“Shelter in the Diamond District, near the tea shop.”

Steph collapses beside him, staring at her own key.

“The pit?” Tim asks from the computer.

“The pit needs a body. His ashes are gone too,” he says, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Tim doesn't know if it's Steph or Cass making that ragged, gasping sound. He just looks at Arsenal. Tim doesn't need any more confirmation than Cass, who's clinging to Steph. Roy isn't lying; his pain is real.

Jason is gone again, this time for good. He's very grateful they soundproofed Bruce's cell, even if they already knew this was Jason's crazy plan. He lets the air out of his lungs and sits down in the chair.

"This is Duke's, Bowery's hideout on 6th," he tells her.

Duke is outside with the Birds of Prey. Things have calmed down considerably after almost a week of chaos.

Tim can admit he shouldn't have forgotten that Red Hood took over Gotham's underworld in his debut with alarming precision and efficiency, practically with just a few thugs under his command who weren't even loyal to him; they just wanted the job.

So now, with many more people willing to fight for his cause, in his name, and die for him, Jason was a formidable force.

Much of the guerrilla warfare and skirmishing was in Jason's territory; his people were already there, taking steps further to gain firm control under the command of Jason's lieutenants. Other disputes in different sectors kept them occupied, while also monitoring the problems in Arkham and Blackgate.

At first, it was obvious that no one knew they had been attacked until the Red Hood forces arrived to take control.

Arkham was almost easy, straightforward. The group that had gone to Arkham had enough cash and could transfer more to anyone they encountered. The few who refused were blackmailed and shot in the legs. Many guards and staff stepped aside when it became clear that the Red Hood group was after the rogues; they even delayed the police and gave them another way out. When the police arrived, many also had those expressions of ‘well, what can we do?’ with feigned anger and words like ‘oh, that damn Red Hood criminal and his people!’ ‘we’ll catch them, no doubt! When we finish checking, make sure they’re not still around here,’ ‘what a shame, we were so slow’—they weren’t even being subtle.

Blackgate was more like a massacre and chaos. The extermination squad entered in prison guard uniforms; much of the staff was bribed, extorted, and locked in administrative rooms. Tim is actually more surprised that the Warden was on Jason’s side all this damn time. He made things so easy.

If they’d had time, it would have been simpler to go little by little, only looking for certain criminals in their cells and not causing a commotion, but Jason knew he didn’t have time. There were many criminals who needed to be eliminated, and things would be chaotic, so they simply went to the most important cells to move on to the other criminals.

To avoid mistakes, they had photos of each person and which section they were in.

Very few sex offenders survived, but many were castrated, lame, or maimed. It was more difficult for the group to escape.

Jason had too many people on his payroll, enough to go door to door. At this point, Tim truly believed that every adult in Crime Alley was part of Red Hood's group.

Oh, and they found Bane's body.

It was a perfectly coordinated siege, one that Jason had meticulously prepared, even without being directly involved.

Not everyone was killed; there were so many castrations and injuries that the hospitals were overwhelmed.

Some even had acid thrown on their private parts! Jason didn't discriminate; man or woman, if they were on the list, they were either dead or on their way to the hospital.

Jason was always the distraction. The attacks had started before Barbara saw him on the security cameras with her phone, so from the moment he was free and wearing a black mask, she should have raised the alarm.

Perhaps the worst part was that many people had let it happen. They had seen Red Hood's men and let them carry out their mission. For a moment, when things calmed down, the police officers, whose corruption had been the least of their crimes, continued their pursuit.

Barbara's mistake hadn't been hiding what she knew about this plan, because she understood it would have been a disaster if Bruce or Dick had found out; the mistake came from underestimating how many people Jason had.

That was the mistake Barbara and he made: underestimating how many people were involved in Jason's nuclear plan.

He's tired.

He can't even blame Jason; it had been a trap set by the Joker, not the other way around. Only, of course, the Joker didn't know this ending.

Tim doesn't even know if he'll get anything. Roy only gave him the key to Duke, and he's hurt by that. He raises his head when he hears the sound of the monument's glass opening. Roy is taking the suit; he had grabbed a duffel bag and is just carrying it out.

"What are you doing?" he asked harshly.

“Doing what he wanted,” he says firmly, harshly, with tears welling up. “He wants me to bury this stupid suit in his grave, so that’s what I’ll do.”

Part of Tim knows there will only be more problems if he lets Roy do this—take the suit, put it in Jason's grave. He knows it's wrong. But he doesn't even have hope that Bruce will ever be functional again; losing the suit or not won't make a difference to the damage. Jason always hated that thing; it bothered them all to varying degrees. Robin should have been buried when Red Hood returned to the family, should have been taken away when Jason was so alive by his side.

Roy just hands him the dominoes and a phone. "I wanted you to keep these, Robin's dominoes. Don't give them to anyone."

"His phone?" he asked, confused.

He nodded. "And Damian?" he questioned.

"He was outside feeding Batcow."

"Okay." He walked toward the only motorcycle Jason had left, putting more things in the compartment, pressed the button, and they watched the motorcycle drive away.

"Why are you taking everything?" Cass asked.

“I don’t even know if I want to know what happened to make… to make Jay so depressed. He’d improved so much. I don’t know if you had another damn fight or what was the final straw” he sounded tired, running a hand through his hair. “I just know he must have been in a bad way to do all this. This is him saying, ‘You can’t have me, I don’t belong to you!’ So I’m going to fulfill his last wishes!”

“There wasn’t a fight,” Tim told him.

“Don’t lie to me! It’s always a fight with you guys and that sick bastard! He’s never good enough for you!” he exclaimed, tears finally flowing.

“Damn, you don’t know?” he muttered incredulously, more tired, more fed up. “The Joker set him up.”

“Of course!” he snorted furiously.

“You know how Jason provoked Black Mask into bringing out the Joker and all that?” He told him, Roy just nodded, roughly wiping away his tears. “The Joker wanted to do something similar. Jason was investigating Black Mask for a new drug. They manufactured a drug, used it on Jason, and it reacted with the Lazarus Pit. Jason was drugged under the influence of the Joker and Black Mask's experiment; he wasn't thinking.”

“Tim, what the hell are you saying?…”

“The Joker's plan was to have Batman and Red Hood under this drug in their hideout so he could play with them, but the drug and the pit reacted,” he explained, looking at the perplexed redhead. “The substance altered them more than expected… Bruce killed the Joker and everyone else in that hideout, not just the thugs.”

“What?” That was all he said, even taking a step back.

“That’s why we have Bruce in the cell, not just because he was there when Jason…” He sighed. “There wasn’t any big fight, just the Joker.”

“Shit, fuck, fuck! That explains everything!” He stepped back, agitated. “He called me, sounded bad, nervous. He said he’d messed up, really messed up, but he just wanted to hear my voice and Lian’s! That he already had the solution, he just wanted to calm down, he just wanted to calm down!” He sobbed, devastated. “He said not to come, just that he’d messed up with you guys, he just needed to hear us out! He said we’d see each other soon! He promised Lian! He said he’d sort it out, that it wouldn’t be for nothing, and he’d leave Gotham for a while!” He screamed, crying, devastated, still denying it, “He promised Lian, he promised him, and then I got a message to come alone. I got there and he was already dead. I got there and they’d already cremated him. He was already dead! He was dead, he was gone! All this mess, this whole plan, he was already dead! And all because the Joker sent him to be drugged with some crap?! Did he have a reaction to the pit?! Is that what killed him?!”

Tim just nodded, looking at Damian who had already gone downstairs. Dick was probably upstairs having a breakdown, since he was the one who had first encountered Roy.

The truth was clearer now.

The Lazarus Pit had affected the toxin, making it more volatile and powerful. The security camera footage showed the veins in Jason's arms less black, lighter, but he was still erratic.

The effect wore off much faster because Jason's constantly battling body had burned it out of his system. He had faced Bane and killed him.

When he got into that car, he must have had more control, not enough, but more control. Then he reappeared to face Bruce and was riddled with bullets right there. Jason shouldn't have believed that Bruce would lose control like that, or that the Joker would manage to administer the toxin. Jason had initiated his nuclear plan; there was no turning back. There would be no forgiveness for him, even if they knew he was under the influence of an unknown substance. Perhaps at first he should have had hope, since he had promised Lian something: to escape Gotham, them, Bruce. And then he decided that all the people who had died for him hadn't done so in vain. He followed his plan to the end because there was no hope that anything would improve; he wasn't going to let everyone else die in vain.

Roy just screamed in frustration, in pain, only to go to the containment cell, pounding on the walls of a Bruce who couldn't hear them. “It's your fault, you fucking bastard, you son of a bitch! If only you had chosen Jason the first time! You're the only sick monster who chose the fucking Joker and slit his son's throat! It should have been you! It should have been you! If only the Joker had died! If only you had left him dead! And now Jason is gone forever! There won't be a next time! There's no coffin to dig up! There's nothing! Nothing!”

“He can’t hear you,” Tim warned her.

“But he can read my lips! Jason is dead! His ashes are gone! If you had let Jason kill the Joker, he’d be here! How am I supposed to tell Lian?! Huh?! Huh?! How am I supposed to tell Kori?! I’m glad he didn’t leave you anything! You have nothing but his ghost! You can’t have him! You never will! You chose wrong! He doesn’t belong to you! He never did!” she sobbed again, ceasing to pound on the cell wall.

Walking away, sniffling, vigorously wiping his face with his jacket sleeve.

“Harper,” Damian’s voice filled the void.

“I’m not going to apologize for that. He’s a damn bastard who hurt him,” he blurted out.

“I didn’t expect that.”

Roy looked older, more wounded. He walked over to Damian and handed him an envelope and a key. “You know where it is. Many of his swords are yours, and whatever’s in that box,” he said, pulling out another envelope. “Give this to Barbara. I was going to go, but I just want to get out of here. I want to be done with this.”

“Okay,” was all Damian said.

“God, I still have to go find Talia and two ex-girlfriends,” he complained.

“Do you want help?” Steph asked.

“No, no,” was his reply. “He asked me to. I’ll handle it. I just want to leave this city.”

“Roy,” Tim called one last time, though the man didn’t turn around. “Do you know who’s in charge?”

“Crime Alley was already functioning without Jay before; Jay was always the distraction,” he confessed. “Everything is organized, divided among his trusted people. Crime Alley will be safe…don’t get too close; they never liked you much.”

(Roy returns to Crime Alley, to the safe house, and Jason is there. The spell is broken, and he remembers everything. He still yells at Jason while hugging him. He won’t do that shit again, but he understands why it was necessary. Luckily, Roy is spared having to lie to Talia because someone else already did it for him.)

________________

Bruce wonders if death would be kinder, or if he deserves it. His memories are hazy, but they're there—in the hatred, in the ease with which he strikes the Joker's body. The most surreal thing is when he can only see unfamiliar bodies beneath him, blood everywhere.

The image of Jason being shot is there in his retinas, forever tattooed on his soul.

Everything else is honestly blurry; even in unconsciousness, everything is dark and silent.

At first, the containment cell wasn't soundproof, so he heard what was happening.

He hates the part of his brain that's annoyed at not having better countermeasures against Jason.

Tim had already hidden a Batmobile from him before. Why did he think Jason wasn't hiding things? The truth was, he'd gotten used to Jason doing things dramatically—shouting, demanding, saying everything he felt. He'd forgotten that this was the same kid who'd planted a bomb under the Batmobile, who could have killed him, who wanted to kill him but didn't want him to get away so easily, without even knowing who Red Hood was.

He'd also started believing his own lies. Dick was so furious, he was uncontrolled energy, power and freedom. Sometimes the criminals were more terrified of Robin because they could hear him laugh but couldn't see him. Other times he wasn't even laughing, but the colors were enough to send adults running in the opposite direction.

Dick had also been kind—smiles, an act to lower their guard, to help, to not scare the children.

Jason had his alley accent; all of Gotham, even where he failed, people trusted Robin. Jason had carried many small children and babies as Robin with a naturalness that surprised him. He had defended women fervently and criticized many people for their opinions, with the same stance as Alfred. Jason had been Gotham, laughter, even tears, but people felt so safe by his side. They had loved him, and Jason loved them. He felt for them, suffered, got angry, and was moved by them.

Crime Alley was his people. They gave him information, Jason protected them, and sometimes the Batmobile was loaded with supplies, clothing, and hygiene items.

He remembered the first time Dick, curious, had looked in Jason's utility belt and found many condoms and other contraceptives. He had been mortified, not knowing what to say, until he saw Jason hand them out to some girls, along with sanitary napkins and tampons. Anyway, she had gone to his office not knowing how to start the conversation until she managed to say a few words and he had to explain.

He was sure that only Alfred and Dick knew about contraceptives and condoms; Barbara had found out about sanitary napkins on her own at some point, and he knew that nobody else knew about them either.

Not even Tim knew.

He hadn't wanted to admit that Red Hood actually helped Crime Alley in his violent way, even though it worked. He ignored that part of the city again, the one his son forbade him from entering.

He had forgotten that people loved Jason. He didn't follow Red Hood's operations and his people very closely because Jason was suspicious of them. They too were possessive of their son; Jason's "merry men" always looked at him badly, they feared him but hated him; they were somewhat kind to others but never to him.

He can't even call his son a hypocrite. On the subject of "child soldiers, crusade, the mission," there weren't any children involved. They were all adults who chose their path, not for some illusion of glory, but because they believed in Jason's vision and in Jason himself.

The children feel safe with Red Hood, even those who don't belong in Crime Alley. Jason will take shots, jump off buildings, hold up buildings, go to the other side of the world for the children of Gotham, for his children of Crime Alley.

He had preferred to see all of that as signs that the Jason he remembered was indeed him, the protector. He closed his eyes thinking of Robin and opened them seeing Red Hood. He couldn't stand it, so he just closed his eyes and listened.

He wants to scream at Barbara for not telling him this, for hiding it. He really wants to. Why didn't she say anything?

Even if he knows why he didn't say anything.

He wants to get out of there, find Jason, his plan doesn't make sense, he doesn't understand why his people would kill him, why? Why? he loves her son, he needs her son.

It's Clark who tells him, when his children have gone up to the mansion, that there's nothing but sadness, that face Clark makes when he has to say things he hates.

He knows the drug reacted with the Lazarus Pit.

He knows Black Mask used on Jason.

He knows the Joker administered it to him.

Jason's plan was his only option if he lost hope: to go out with a bang, take as many people as possible with him, and then die so he'd never have to pay for his crimes—the ultimate way to escape the law and Bruce. That's what it had been: the ultimate escape plan where Bruce could never reach him.

Jason had many people willing to die for him in battle, but he also had people willing to kill themselves at his command. (Bruce wondered where he had learned that from. Were his people fanatics for Red Hood?) An armed group entered Arkham, with money, blackmail, and weapons. The asylum staff stood aside and let the armed group gun down their targets before leaving the island.

Another armed group was at Blackgate. The Warden had been on Jason's side the whole time, waiting for the right moment and the order. He himself had checked on the Warden, spoken with him, surprised that he had lasted so long. Perhaps that was it—that he knew how to survive.

It took them more difficulty to escape, but they did. They left behind a prison full of corpses and inmates going mad with the chaos.

There were others who ended up in the hospital, savagely castrated, shot with a shotgun, stabbed, and covered in acid. There were also those wounded, whether in the legs or losing a hand. Bruce thought it was almost like branding them. The hospitals were still full.

Somehow, he feels they are letting something slide. Things calmed down a bit, so the corrupt cops continued their pursuit.

But Jason was already dead, from day one of this coordinated attack.

Jason's order was to kill him, steal his body, and cremate it.

Not buried, just ashes, so he wouldn't return a second time, so he couldn't mourn over a grave. His children were trying to find him before that happened, to recover his body.

He wasn't going to leave that cell either. His children were too preoccupied, too paranoid about what he would do if they were given the chance.

Jason's people were definitely waiting for him, perhaps even disappointed that they couldn't shoot him.

He had been hitting Jason as soon as he saw him; he would have killed him too, with his own blows. Jason was waiting for him. One signal, and he covered himself with his cape, trying to get away.

I beat you, Batman.

He had said that, he had smiled, his eyes shining, the blood covering him, that crooked smile, and then…

He had called him ‘Batman,’ not even ‘old man’ or anything like he always called him, Batman.

Jason had won the moment he had formed, instead of a criminal organization or a mafia, a faithful and loyal company, perhaps almost a cult.

It still seemed incredible because he was sure that these people loved Jason, they cared for him, they had feelings for him, but they were willing to kill him, kill his son, their leader, the center of everything, kill him, burn his body, and then carry on with the mission. He doesn't understand it. They shouldn't want to do it, they shouldn't follow the order, but they had followed it, and then those same people had taken their own lives. He doesn't understand it.

All this level of coordination, of manipulation, hidden in plain sight—not even that, they just never thought Jason was capable of leading. He wasn't charismatic like when he was Robin, he wasn't like Dick, a born leader who made people want to follow him. Jason wasn't like that.

Jason was growls, sarcasm, jokes about death, condescending, cruel, aggressive.

Even Ra's is charismatic, captivating, he convinces people of what he does, ceremonious.

Jason is none of that.

…Not with them. He wasn't gentle with them.

But he knows that children see the Red Hood and adore him.

Jason was so sweet when he was a child. He made him laugh, he cooked for Alfred when he woke up early to surprise him, polite, a loudmouth, but always smiling.

Tim had said that the best photographs of Batman's smile were with Robin, with Jason. He had seen one of those photographs and it had felt like another life.

Jason was never that sweet, that kind again… but sometimes a little of it would seep through in his demeanor, small glimpses…

Jason wouldn't give them his kindness again, his concern, his caring gestures. Why did Jason do that? He chose the Joker. Dick had gone from a distant brother to one who bullied him. He had scared Tim. Steph suspected him because of the fright he had given Tim. Cassandra kept an eye on him. Damian insulted him. And Duke… Duke didn't really have any prejudice against Jason. They were friendly, and Jason never bothered him.

Red Hood never bothered Signal, only playful little taps on the shoulders or ruffling his hair.

Jason had no reason to be the way he was with Duke.

Jason…remained that sweet, smiling boy to others, even shy, so easy to love, and they were all willing to go along with this madness because they also knew they couldn't fight him. Together, yes, but perhaps Jason didn't want them to suffer because of him at the hands of 'Batman'.

Perhaps it was helplessness, the rage of helplessness that he saw in many of them when they looked at him.

He felt indignant, jealous, angry. This was his son, he was his, his baby, his firstborn, the one who was only his. Willis Todd had barely been in the picture, so easy to forget and leave behind. Catherine Todd was Jason's mother; he didn't need to compete with her. They weren't the Graysons, they weren't John and Mary Grayson who had been good, attentive, loving parents, parents who would always be perfect because they would never have the chance to fail.

Murdered so cruelly, their lives cut short in an instant, Dick loved them so much. He felt that Dick could never be his, could never call him his son, could never be better than John Grayson.

Dick wasn't used to staying in one place. Dick didn't belong to Gotham. Dick had always been of the world, like Clark, who, though he protects Metropolis, Superman belongs to the world. Dick became Nightwing. He felt so proud because he was better than Batman. He belonged to the world, he even belonged to space, to other planets. He was always proud of him.

Jason had been his. Jason would always be of Gotham. He would never leave Gotham, never leave the mansion. He was his.

He had looked at him with hope, with joy, as if he couldn't believe that Bruce wanted to adopt him, wanted to make him his own, and then called him "Dad." He had monopolized him, only his, and Alfred's too.

I remained silent when Alfred gave Jason the room that had once been his as a child, his childhood room, the heir's room. Alfred had given it to Jason, and he never said a word.

The idea never crossed Dick's mind; he never thought of giving him his childhood room. Dick had chosen it for its light, and also because it was available, not cluttered with old things. Jason initially slept in Dick's room, then Alfred removed his childhood belongings and put Jason there.

Damian had realized it. He'd asked for Jason's room when he arrived at the mansion because it was different from the others, and they'd told him no. They'd said Jason had chosen it and it would always be Jason's; he couldn't have it, he couldn't go in there, it wasn't his.

Even if it had been a lie, Jason had never chosen it; Alfred had put him there. He hadn't thought much about it until it dawned on him that Jason was being adopted as his son.

Willis Todd wasn't competition.

Then, when the others arrived, they chose their rooms without a second thought. They never asked which room had been their childhood room. Only Damian had noticed, but he let it go when it became obvious that no one had chosen rooms for their siblings. No one found out about the lie, and Jason never said a word.

Tim had his parents. As negligent as they'd been, Tim loved them. Tim didn't even want to be adopted by him.

Cass was his daughter, just as Jason was his son. David Cain was pure cruelty, and Lady Shiva hadn't even tried. Cass called him Dad.

Steph has her mother; she doesn't even see him as a father. She's like Barbara, who stayed for Dick and then never left, even though their relationship would change. Steph was there for Tim.

Steph was so much like Jason. He had been unfair to her. He couldn't let it be like that; he ruined it. She didn't deserve any of his attitude.

She was there for Tim, then for Cass. She would stay in the family like Barbara.

Damian… Damian was his, but he no longer knew how to relate to him. He didn't know what to do, how to treat him. He tried, he really did, but it didn't feel right. He couldn't fit in. He was making mistakes. Then he lost track of time. When he came back, Damian was attached to Dick. He was annoyed, but he also felt relieved because if he failed, Dick could do better. He felt such resentment toward Talia for hiding Damian from him. She had stolen so many years, so many milestones, moments he could never get back. He couldn't hold baby Damian, little Damian taking his first steps, Damian, who had been so proper… Damian, who was less cold now, who had learned to love more, but that achievement wasn't his.

Duke had living parents who had loved him all his life. Duke was so grown up now. He wanted him, but he knew he could never be his.

Dick had Bludhaven and the world.

Barbara had the Birds of Prey and owed him nothing. Tim had Young Justice, which was leaving, not really tied to Gotham, but to him. Cassandra was going to the other side of the world or with Barbara. Steph, who also didn't owe him any explanations, or who was going off with Barbara and Cass, not tied to him. Damian, who had Jon, or who was really just learning to truly love the city. Duke, whose life was practically set.

Jason was supposed to be only his, the cheerful son who helped Alfred bake cookies together, who went to baseball games with him, who liked cars and rock music, who didn't destroy chandeliers, who liked to read in the library and watch movies with him, the one who would go to university because he wanted to, who didn't even think about leaving the mansion or becoming independent, who wouldn't leave Gotham unless he decided to go to a university somewhere else in the world, but it would surely be in the United Kingdom.

Jason would always stay in Gotham.

It was supposed to be that way, and then… …

Even now, Jason belonged to Gotham. He always returned to Gotham, always longed to go home, but he couldn't accept it as it was, not like this, not deciding he could kill, not seeing that despite everything, he could be both kind and cruel. It didn't make sense, he couldn't.

Jason couldn't be… not this man for whom people were willing to go to war, not this man who would order them to commit suicide and they would do it. He couldn't be his baby, cheerful, funny, loudmouthed, passionate about literature, and dramatic. He couldn't be this captain who planned this assault on the entire criminal underworld, left his orders, died, and yet his people still won because they followed the orders he left behind. He couldn't be this man who ordered executions with such ease. He couldn't be that man who smiled at him with bright eyes and then died in front of him.

They couldn't be the same person.

He'd had a minor breakdown, the first of many. They'd soundproofed the cell so he couldn't hear what was happening in Gotham, even fogging up two of the cell walls so he couldn't see the computer. Then Roy Harper came in. He couldn't hear him, but he could read his lips, as he later said.

If he had chosen correctly that night… would anything really have changed? He wouldn't even have had to kill him himself. If he had let Jason kill the Joker, if he had chosen differently, he always regretted acting the way he did. It seemed the right answer was always not to have acted, and he wouldn't have broken his code, killed those people with his own hands, and Jason wouldn't have built this army.

Years ago, he had said the worst words in the moment. Jason had heard him, absorbed those words, testing him, always testing him.

He had been so proud of all his other children. Nightwing would always be more indispensable than Batman. Batman had to aspire to be like Nightwing.

Barbara moved forward, transforming into Oracle, so capable that most didn't even believe she wasn't a perfect machine, an AI that even surpassed programming. Tim was a much better detective than him, so intelligent, unpredictable. Cass was already impressive, so kind too. Steph was her own person, independent, free. Damian had changed, gentler, kinder, discovering who he wanted to become. Duke, my God, he trusted that kid so much. They all entrusted Gotham to him during the day. Duke had Gotham to himself during the day and barely broke a sweat, the Gotham sun.

Jason was always his biggest mistake, Batman's failure. He'd told him so to his face, had said it in front of everyone, had made it so it would always be that way…

Part of him refused to admit defeat. Without Jason at the helm, things were bound to go wrong… but he knew they wouldn't, just like the first time Red Hood arrived in Gotham. Crime rates in Crime Alley dropped, and now he knew they would drop even further. There wasn't enough police force; the country's army would never enter Gotham. Jason had won, taking all the rogues and criminals he hated with him. Dead, never to be caught, immortalized by the people as their protector, the great Red Hood who cleaned up the city, incapacitated his vigilantes, and left his company in charge.

He wouldn't even have a grave, a coffin, a body to hold. He couldn't have it, he could never have it again. He couldn't defile his memory, twist it like he did the first time. He broke Dick and Cass's legs, shot Steph in the leg too. Destroyed much of Barbara's cameras. He left the city with only Red Robin, Robin, and Signal.

Steph would recover the fastest, but Dick and Cass would have to spend more time on the sidelines. Gotham no longer had Batman. He wondered if Jason had learned of the Joker's plan and let it slide to remove Batman from the equation forever.

When things calmed down, there would be no more fighting. It would be like in the beginning: crimes to solve. All his children were detectives, but there would no longer be different mafia families. Jason had always been good at cleaning up his streets; his people would know what to do.

Jason had won, being the perfect distraction, without even lying to them. Everything was there, and they—he—had dismissed it, underestimated it. He underestimated emotions and feelings, underestimated Jason's love for his people, for Gotham, underestimated the love Jason felt for them, and believed that he would always come before Crime Alley. He underestimated the power of the people, underestimated those who for centuries had united for causes and leaders who fought for them. Jason's greatest gift had always been that: his way with civilians, the transparent way he felt for them. Jason hadn't changed at all, he realizes now; he was still the same, only the focus of his mission had shifted. People rarely question their morals so much; they are wronged, they feel. Some don't know they can do anything, others are resigned to the fact that the system in Gotham is corrupt. They hold onto that pain and resentment. Even justice doesn't alleviate the pain, nor does revenge, but it leaves a void; it can bring peace.

Jason understood that: the helplessness, the pain, the rage, and the longing for something better. Being Robin wasn't enough. Red Hood made it possible, and he couldn't understand it, couldn't accept it. How could someone be so cruel and kind? How could someone see a corpse and then laugh with children? How could Jason cry for people he didn't know and then act differently?

This shouldn't have happened.

Jason won. Even though Barbara knew the plan, he still won because they hadn't expected a company.

Jason crushed everything and left cleanly. His ashes were… gone? Scattered, perhaps? His son died having heard that he wasn't his. His son died accepting that he would never be loved unconditionally, and he had returned the situation with indifference. He left him nothing: not a note, not an object, nothing, not even a grave to mourn at. Nothing. There would be no more miracles, no more chances to use a Lazarus Pit. He would never return.

Ashes that had been carried away by the wind, shot in front of him, because that's how he chose it, so the image would be etched in his mind forever, so he would see him die as he saw his parents die helplessly, and then far away, with the classic Jason drama.

Like the Jason of Jauhar, twisted and dramatic…

His people easily following him into death.

Self-immolation was too much work, an explosion was ineffective, a hail of bullets was easier and more impactful.

He couldn't arrest them, because if Jason had already installed the Warden that Bruce, Barbara, and Tim approved, what guarantees he didn't have him ready again? He couldn't imprison the other men of Jason who had stayed behind; they would get out. No one would pay for their crimes…except Bruce himself.

Bruce would be locked up because he repeated so many times to all his allies, friends, and his children that he would lose control and that he had to be locked up forever because he would lose his mind, and now he was in that containment cell, if he didn't choose to die.

He lost everything a long time ago.

He lost the moment he stopped truly looking at his son, he lost from the moment he didn't trust him, from the moment he was afraid of what he could become because he didn't understand him. Perhaps this had always been the end, no matter what; Jason loved the city and its people more.

He would rather die than let himself be thrown into Arkham or any high-security prison, he would rather die than deny that the massacre was necessary, he would rather die than give Bruce the opportunity to tarnish his memory and tell the story, he would rather die than belong again because he chose this.

The rest of the country won't care; they don't know how things are in Gotham. The other heroes will find out because he doubts Roy Harper will stay quiet this time. Everyone will find out because Batman will remain locked up since Red Hood beat him. Talia will know, and… she doesn't know what she'll do, but perhaps she'll even keep an eye on Crime Alley for Jason, making sure her other children don't go in there or take control, just watching. He lost her son a long time ago and didn't even realize how much he had failed him until now.

_____________

The days have been filled with work, white-collar crimes, acquiring many buildings, forming construction crews, more jobs, even a new school in addition to improving the ones already in the alley.

Honestly, he hasn't even had to use Constantine's spell to keep his siblings away.

He went to check on the mansion and found Bruce in a containment cell, disturbed by the belief that he had killed someone, docile, very sad. He even feels a little bad for him, but Batman is out of the way, and with all the chaos he's creating out there distracting everyone, he's been able to improve many things.

Susan even says he seems like a very happy and cheerful young man, which is strange because it's a very radical change in his personality, but Danny wrote to her that it could be because he's happy and satisfied that his refuge is so safe, that the happiness of his people makes him happy, and he's much less stressed than before. That must also explain why he can sleep like a baby.

He looked less tired, even a little younger, if you will. Talia asked him if he'd used a Lazarus Pit because he had some baby oil on his face and looked better.

Children were playing safely in the streets. Many of his girls had resumed their studies because they had better incomes. Families had more income, more food, they had hope! No more supervillains escaping from prison or Arkham. He was actually very surprised that Melissa and Roger hadn't blown up Arkham as they said they wanted to.

For now, he had Arkham in his pocket. Without the Court of Owls paying attention, he was refurbishing the site. He was going to demolish it! Build a real psychiatric hospital! Suji and his team of civil engineers were overly enthusiastic about the project.

He would wait a while before rebuilding Blackgate now that the birds knew he'd put the Warden there. Although he didn't want to delay his miraculous third resurrection because his family was falling apart, maybe, just maybe, he'd gone a little too far, just a little. He would return; maybe this time they would want him and wouldn't make such a fuss about his people. There was nothing else to do; he wasn't going to disband a group that worked well. The people were happy, safe, fed, they had a future—why risk it?

Even if Tim finds out, he won't do anything. The difference between Bruce and Tim was that Tim was more practical. He didn't follow the code because he believed in it like Cass. Tim had killed many people too, without it bothering him. Tim didn't kill because it was part of the company's regulations, so to speak. Tim was also the Batman who used weapons or was more flexible in his morals.

Without Bruce at the helm, many things could change.

He had actually gone to visit Bruce without consequences. Perhaps it didn't help his father's fragile mental state, but it allowed him to talk to him. He only appeared in his cell, somewhat translucent, if you will.

Sometimes with fake blood, just to talk.

He sighed. Perhaps the most difficult part was his plan to fake his resurrection. The ashes Dick had were part of the plan.

When Danny explained which parts of him could be reconstructed, he was interested, but he didn't have time to learn how to do that, so he just used someone else's ashes. Then he spent the first month cutting off one limb and letting another grow in its place. He started with part of a finger, then a finger, then two, then his hand, then part of his arm, and so on until he was sure of it. He cut off his arm, had it cremated, replaced the ashes with those of his arm, and that was it!

If his siblings decide to hate him, then he has the spell—easy.

_____________

If he was honest, Tim was only annoyed at first because Jason had managed to conceal his suicide plan and how well-prepared he'd left his criminal group? Cult, Cavalry? for after his death and the changes in the city.

Two months later, he truly cursed him because his systems, programs, files, reports, and information—his entire network, the Batcave's and Barbara's—were destroyed by a virus that wiped everything out. Tim barely paid attention to the Watchtower system.

But everything else was gone, gone forever as the final part of Jason's master plan, the end of the story.

He didn't take it well, nor did Barbara. It was a blow to many other systems: hospital records, police, schools, civil registry—everything.

The city's cameras had exploded, but there wasn't much panic.

Lucius was also annoyed because even his systems were compromised, but he couldn't tell if there had been any modifications.

Barbara had backup hard drives only to discover that if she tried to connect them to any new computer, they would become corrupted. He himself had to ask Bart to get him a new computer without any components from other companies, but his own hard drives were too large for incompatible technology. He was hit by the analog bug because he had often mocked Jason for being so out of touch with pop culture and technology.

So he had to build his new computer from scratch with components from other companies, he had to program and create new programs that would surpass the previous ones, AND HE CAN DO IT.

The problem was never whether he could or couldn't do it; the problem was that it was an inconvenience, that he didn't want to have to do it, and now he did.

The city's security cameras weren't even a priority for the city, given the authorities' usual disdain.

The biggest problem now was having to use some protocol to remove Bruce from the public eye. He didn't trust Bruce, no matter how calm he seemed in the cell. Sometimes he talked to his hallucination, like most people did. Honestly, it's very worrying that everyone in this family suffers from hallucinations.

The truth was, they had five protocols on Bruce: the one Bruce created for himself, Barbara's, Diana's, surprisingly, Constantine's, and his own.

All to prevent Bruce from being a danger to others and to himself.

Bruce himself hadn't wanted to leave his cell, even though Alfred had asked him to.

Almost four months since the incident, the city was quiet. He had watched, like Alvin, what was happening in Crime Alley. It didn't even feel like Crime Alley. It was…well, less heavy with that oppressive atmosphere and something he couldn't quite explain.

Perhaps the only overwhelming thing was that many people wore red accessories or clothing, like a mark, like an amulet, like something that demonstrated something. It had intention, meaning, not just a pretty accessory, a little frightening when you saw how many people wore it in other parts of Gotham.

"Are you tired, Timbo?"—the voice of his hallucination was low, with that mocking undertone.

He looked up. Jason was there, almost real but without a shadow, still, waiting for something, a reaction. He didn't answer the hallucination.

"And what if you don't fix it?"

He suggested it as if it were a crazy idea, a whisper, a secret, but was there anything left to fix? They wouldn't get Bruce out of that cell, even if Alfred convinced him. Batman could no longer exist. Not when so many already knew, not when they had already restricted him.

He didn't know if he was grateful that Jason had broken Dick and Cass's legs. Steph was already walking more normally, but with Dick's leg so badly fractured, he couldn't leave the mansion. So, his breakdown was happening there. He couldn't self-destruct as much as the first time when Damian was watching him, but that broken leg prevented him from going out as Batman. Cass couldn't use the suit either and was just as confined to the mansion. Honestly, he preferred it this way. Cass would have left by now, and what he needed was as much help as possible to solve everything in the city. Cass will heal before Dick, so she can take charge of the city while he continues repairing all the systems.

His problem now is disbanding a well-structured faction whose leader (and martyr?) died, but morale is stronger than ever. Disbanding it will be difficult because he'd have to break up the organization piece by piece, but he couldn't just hand them over to the police if they'd all end up in prison, realize they'd been manipulated, and leave angry.

For now, he'll go eat at the mansion.

__________________

Can you see me?

Duke really wants to know if it was necessary to whisper the question when it's obvious he can see him.

Jason's ghost seems amused, his bright Lazarus-green eyes, floating upside down as if he needs to walk on the ceiling.

"Can you get that cobweb off over there?" he decided to ask, pointing to a particular corner. Jason laughs but actually tries, running his foot over the cobweb, but it's unaffected; it's still there. Jason just makes a little 'tch' sound. Now indignant that he couldn't help Alfred remove that kind of thing.

"Too bad, I really didn't want to use the ladder," he sighs.

You're not funny —he says with a pout, the great Red Hood pouting because he's not scared.

"Did you expect to become a ghost?" he ignores the situation.

Honestly, I was surprised I didn't end up in Hell. I was in Heaven, and alone. Did someone say I could come here? I don’t remember that part very well —he confessed, now lying on the ceiling, trying to run his hand through the cobweb several times. —I think it was like that the first time.”

“I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Little shit. Jason seemed to become more engrossed in the cobweb; it reminded him of a cat lying down using its paw to hit something. Ha!

“Wow, you actually managed it! Thanks!” He laughed at the absurdity of the situation, at the ghost of Red Hood looking like a proud cat for removing a simple cobweb.

"I think this is Gotham."

“What?”

“What has me here. I feel the city, the people. She’s alive but dead, healthier. She breathes. I hear her.”

“That’s terrifying,” he murmured.

“Maybe she brought me here the first time.”

“But now that you don’t have a body, she can’t bring you back, so you’re here as a ghost.” That’s a big inconvenience “Do you regret it?”

Ask to be cremated? Hell no. The last time, my funeral had five people, and one of them was the officiant. Bruce didn't even tell Dick. I had to find out later that the academy held a memorial service, which no one here attended. I wasn't popular, I didn't have any friends, but some teachers were genuinely saddened. There was a girl there too; she was affected. My old neighbor mourned me as well. And don't even get me started on my grave. Did you know I was the first child Bruce adopted? His son? Not his ward like Dick. I was his son. My name was Wayne, and he buried me next to Sheila! Sheila! If he wasn't going to bury me like his son in his cemetery, he should have left me next to Willis and Catherine!

“I didn’t know that. Wait, didn’t she adopt Dick?”

He adopted it much later because everyone else found out.

“What a load of crap,” he sighed, crossing his arms.

Not even a decent funeral, not even the name, all the crap that went on afterward—I really wasn’t going to let them ruin it a second time. The only part I regret is that they didn’t come to my very short funeral.

“You had a funeral?!” Duke blurted out, staring at the ghost.

We all had funerals. I didn’t want to be treated differently, but there were funerals. I didn’t give anyone the chance to change what I wanted, what I felt. I’m satisfied with that.

“…Why did you have that plan?” It was something I wanted to know, to understand why.

The ghost just snorted, letting himself fall, though he landed on his feet. —When I lost hope, when I got tired of everything and of myself, if I ruined things with you all so badly that there wouldn't be another chance, if I was going to leave, at least I'd protect my territory. I wanted to leave Crime Alley and everything else safe… I was originally going to kill the Joker myself, but I didn't know if I'd find him, so I went ahead with the rest."

"You destabilized the whole city."

"But it's over" he said more calmly, even the gleam in his eyes dimmed. "No more Joker, no more fear toxin, no more Venom, no more Black Mask or Two-Face. There won't be any more escapes from Arkham or Blackgate, no more mobs or other crime bosses. I've taken them all off the map. Everything is controlled by my people. Have you seen them, Duke? There are kids laughing in Crime Alley."

"I don't know if I'm okay with it having to be this way," he confessed.

I think both answers are correct, and also that both were wrong but valid.

"What do you mean?"

We don't have the right to decide, but that would only work in a city other than Gotham. If criminals actually stayed in jail, I wouldn't kill. But we're a war zone. There are oxygen masks for babies. Nowhere is safe. I've eliminated all that. Now do it their way.

"…I understand."

It's not an excuse; it's just how I think. Bruce's way would only work if justice were real. I value people's feelings more, their safety. None of mine will have to fear that the people who hurt them can do it again. I'm giving them what no one gave me… I don't regret that. I did what I thought was best, what will keep them safe.

"Good… even though Barbara and Tim hate you for the computers."

Yeah, I forgot to tell you not to do that part, but I was high and having a panic and manic attack at the same time. Honestly, it wasn't worse. In fact, this is a good time to tell you that there's actually another part to the plan.

“Man, seriously? More?!”

After the police, other corrupt people are next, like prosecutors and businessmen, only there won't be gunfire. I tried telling the others, but they all think I'm hallucinating! Maybe they'll believe you, even though they won't be able to stop him, but now it really is the final phase, I promise.

________

“Are you still avoiding coming back to life?” Danny asked.

“Just a little bit,” Jason admitted via video call. “Actually, this is much more comfortable, although now I can’t even use the new suit,” he sighed.

“How much longer can you stretch it out?” he asked curiously, relaxed while eating potato chips.

“Maybe another month or two. Now that everything has settled down, it’s like a mini-vacation. None of my brothers are trying to show up at my apartment to steal my food, no one is pressuring me, the crime rate has dropped a lot, all my people are happy, my construction and remodeling crews are progressing well without anyone blowing up buildings,” he sighed dreamily. “Oh, by the way, Signal can see me. He realized I was a ghost, so if you show up, he’ll be able to see you.”

“Damn, so he can see you? I thought everyone ‘could’ see you,” he questioned, pouting.

“Of course everyone can see me because I let them see me, but I was trying to blend in just so they would know I was a ghost and not a…” “Hallucination”

“That your whole family hallucinated you, again? I don’t know if it’s weird or sad. Why would RR hallucinate you the first time? He didn’t even know you,” he blurted out, dismayed.

“I’m just as perplexed as you are, dude. The worst part is that this is where they draw the line. Signal already told them I’m a ghost, but apparently their hallucination can’t be a ghost. These are the same people who know about aliens, wizards, demons, vampires, but for me to be a ghost and not a product of their disturbed minds is unheard of. This is ridiculous,” Jason roared, offended and incredulous.

“It works for me, but it’s annoying. I’ve been there,” he nodded, letting out a sigh.

“Anyway, I have everything ready for when I magically and dramatically rise from my ashes. What I don’t know yet is whether I should pretend I don’t remember being a ghost or if I remember everything.”

“Sam is still amazed that faking your madness actually worked for you, even when it seemed like you were enjoying it a little too much” he told him.

“What can I say? I got everything I wanted to scream out at them, and they always think the worst of me.”

"You're not supposed to remember things that happen when you're dead. It's much weirder when you do, so it would be normal for you to forget everything that happened, if that helps."

"Maybe it's for the best, that way no one can use everything I've said against me." He seemed more convinced now. "All the programs are new, so they won't be able to notice anything new in the analyses, although Arsenal says I should have returned by now. Nightwing is having a hard time, but don't they say 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'? Or something like that?" he commented, stretching to relax a little more. "Anyway, Batman won't be a problem for us anymore. Even if the Justice League summons you, Basty won't be there, RR isn't usually around in moments like that, and Nightwing won't be after you," he said, watching the other boy become more cheerful. "You know what you should do? Some trick so that when they summon you…" "People see you as someone else, so, for example, in the very unlikely event that the League summons you, Nightwing would only see my version of Robin while Superman sees one of his Kryptonian parents or something like that; they shouldn't be able to see you until you want them to. It's good emotional blackmail."

“That’s a good idea! I don’t know if I can do it, but I’ll see if it’s possible to do something similar.” He looked for somewhere to jot things down, writing:

“We have to throw them off, even if you’re wearing a full astronaut suit now,” he said, looking at the clock on the screen. “Hey Danny, I have to go now, we’ll talk later.”

“Okay Jay, see you later, thanks for that idea!”

The screen showed that the video call had ended. He was happy for Danny, who seemed much more alive in these few months, less tired, and certainly better fed.

Those boys deserved a peaceful life.

Now he had to return to the mansion, comfort Dick, Damian, Alfred—whom he also noticed was a ghost—and, of course, torment Bruce.

He was very pleased with this outcome. Even when he “comes back to life,” Bruce wouldn’t be able to touch him or lock him up in Arkham or any other prison. In fact, he liked how Bruce was now; it was easier to talk to him like this. It did him a lot of good not to be Batman anymore.

He put away his laptop, redressed, tidied himself up to look like before, grabbed his things, and left.

It's so much fun to have beaten Bruce at something, even Talia is surprised by it. Bruce won't leave his containment cell, even if he finally decides to go out, the other four methods for monitoring and containing him will keep him safe. Even if the world needs Batman, they'll figure it out; Danny's mysterious father said they were safe.

Tim is also taking advantage of the situation. Without Bruce around, Tim has been making some moves. He's really trying to kill Ra's al Ghul, and he'll succeed soon. Danny said that was going to be resolved; Ra's won't make it to the new year! He's also working on something against Lex Luthor, white-collar crimes, and maybe some mercenaries. He could offer his help, but it's more fun this way.

Dick's fracture is almost healed. Unlike Cass, whose break was clean and easy to heal, Dick's was more problematic. It broke the bone so badly that Leslie had to reinsert some pins that had already been removed. Now, Dick just needs to heal with the cast. Someone should really appreciate that; he had to be very careful not to cause permanent damage, but also not one as easily healed as Cass's. Removing Nightwing from the equation meant Dick couldn't wear the Batman suit. At this point, Cass was Batman, but only until Ra's al Ghul was alive, according to Tim's plan.

For now, "Bruce Wayne" was bedridden because he fell down the stairs, and his back and hip needed a lot of time to recover. Age, Tim had argued at the press conference, has Brucie out of the public eye. Richie Wayne also blamed the mansion's treacherous stairs. The cover story is that Brucie fell, and Richie then tried to help him. He couldn't help but laugh.

Even with Cass being Batman in Gotham, it's only temporary; Batman will disappear because the city was fine and no longer needed its Dark Knight. It's not how any of his siblings thought it would happen, but it works.

Jason has been practicing a lot; duplication is difficult when you want your replica to look like your 15-year-old dead self, but Jason makes it work.

"Is it really that hard to accept, Bruce?" he asks from the cell floor.

"You were already a monster; you didn't need to kill to be one," his slightly deformed double whispers behind Bruce. Robin, with his arm at the wrong angle, was perfect; the more imperfect he was, the more he tormented Bruce.

Even if Martian Manhunter looked into Bruce's mind, he would see hallucinations because Bruce always hallucinated. He wouldn't be able to tell which one was the ghost of Red Hood. Of course, Bruce would always realize that the Joker's death was staged, but for everyone else, it was a sign that his mind was confusing or blocking out memories to protect itself.

"You should have chosen me" he says bitterly, because it's true.

"You chose wrong, old man" Robin says.

The truth is, Batman was his enemy, he always has been. He hates Batman, he wants him dead, he hates what he represents, or what he claims to represent. Revenge? Justice? Hope? What a joke!

He hates him!

He hates Batman, he hates the influence he has on other heroes and vigilantes, he hates his reputation, he hates his hypocrisy, he hates his attitude, he hates that Batman will replace his father, he hates how he gets in his way, he hates his sanctimonious way of dealing with injustice, as if he knew anything about it.

As if Batman knew what it's like to have nothing to eat, what it's like to have no options, what it's like to be trafficked, abused, enslaved, and murdered. As if Batman understood that people are afraid, that they struggle to cope with the tragedies that befall them, as if Batman understood that many people commit crimes because they have no other option in Gotham, that sometimes they don't know how to do anything better, they've run out of hope, hope hurts, they resent it, they grieve, they accept it.

Even after getting an honest job, the feeling of calamity doesn't go away.

What good is an honest job when Scarecrow gasses your building? When Two-Face takes you hostage and your visa depends on a coin? What good is it when the Joker gets out of Arkham? When the mob knocks on your door demanding protection money? When the Mad Hatter uses you?

When your boss harasses you and no one stops him? When the police take you to an alley?

When everything falls apart?

Batman doesn't understand. He doesn't understand that people break and have to deal with it, with the trauma, with the fear. Even when they try to ignore it, it always ends up hurting them. Sometimes the pain is too much, and some drug makes it seem lighter. Sometimes alcohol, sex, or bad temper become a bad coping mechanism.

Batman has never had to experience it. He's never wanted to understand that sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to give people a little peace because the monsters that hurt them can't hurt them anymore. Only in their nightmares can they, but when they wake up, there's no danger.

It was never about revenge, not really, but about showing that he mattered, about keeping him safe. Batman never keeps his children safe. Batman took control and made Bruce the mask.

Jason loves his father, he loves Bruce, the Bruce who is clumsy in his attempts to communicate, which is almost endearing, the Bruce who is interested in any silly thing his sons are interested in, even if he doesn't understand it, the Bruce who spent time with Dick, the Bruce who could be a bit of a nerd about dinosaurs and the gray ghost, the Bruce who, when his sons are sick, forgets about the police and stays home.

That is Jason's father, the one who also died with him, although that's incorrect, actually annoying. He didn't "die," he was murdered, like the Waynes, the Graysons, the Drakes, like Willis.

Everyone always says "Jason Todd died," rarely does anyone say "Jason Todd was murdered." It might seem like the same thing, but it isn't.

To die is to suffer an accident, to contract an illness; it's that your lifespan has come to an end.

To die is not to be hit so that a bomb then explodes and the smoke and debris crush you; that is to be murdered. Jason Todd was killed, and nothing changed as he had been taught it should.

So Bruce was also killed and replaced by Batman.

Jason needed Batman to stop being the person and become the mask again. Jason wanted his father, who was somewhere inside the man he barely recognized. Batman was always the enemy, and now he had won.

Batman is dead, deceived, believing he had broken his code. The truth is, the Joker was already dead. The thugs and the hostages were people who had to die. Batman was only drugged, witnessing the scene his men and the trio had orchestrated. It was just Danny controlling his body with a drugged, compromised mind who hit the people and the fake Joker, but it was his Merry Men who did all the killing.

The recordings were damaged enough because the suit's technology wasn't capable of withstanding the Phantom King.

Added to the trauma of seeing him being executed.

Bruce couldn't bear the confusing memories, his knuckles bruised, his body weary. How could it not have been him? Batman has been defeated. Bruce can be a person again, be real.

They can't even blame him for it. After all, he's too reckless, too emotional, too stupid to be responsible for something like this.

As if any of them had ever truly known him, as if any of them knew him now.

Perhaps the only real change he underwent in the Lazarus Pit is something akin to sociopathy with some psychopathic traits. It's not as if he's an expert on the subject, but he feels too much and sometimes feels nothing at all.

All those people he had executed? The ones he killed himself? He doesn't even regret it. It doesn't ruin his dream. He feels nothing but disgust for them. He doesn't care, nor does he care.

Although he now has another possible explanation with the ghostly traits, as the undead creature he is, he doesn't pay much attention to it.

He feels nothing for what he's done, even if Roy says Dick won't be able to tolerate it much longer. Perhaps just a little guilt or discomfort, but his "family" should show him love while he's alive, not after he's dead.

Of course, when he rises again like a phoenix, with his newfound good spirits, everyone will think the Lazarus Pit was to blame for his bad personality—not that the trauma he suffered wasn't the obvious answer!

For now, he'll continue tormenting Batman in his cell until Bruce has to stay.

______________

The fire alarm goes off in one part of the mansion, breaking Tim's concentration.

Damian stops practicing his katas; he's been training too much, but it's better than going out recklessly like Bruce used to.

They go upstairs to the mansion. Dick's shouts calling for Jason make Tim shudder. For a second, he glances at Damian, who also looks bad. Dick was getting better.

They run up the stairs even faster. Dick is inside his room, the sprinklers soaking everything, but that doesn't make them believe what they're seeing.

Jason is there in the fire, a spontaneous, colorful fire in Dick's room. Tim pulls Dick away from the fire; he's in shock, just like all of them.

Someone turns off the water; the fire goes out. Jason is there, he's really there, sitting on the floor. The fire was dying down; it was coming from Jason's body.

"Jason?" Dick blurted out in disbelief.

Jason looked up at them, golden eyes staring intently. His black hair stopped moving like fire, his white streak growing slightly larger, just a little.

Many of the scars on Jason's naked body were gone or almost completely erased. Other scars remained perfectly intact, like the autopsy scar, a few scratches, and the scar on his neck was gone.

The unsettling golden eyes turned Lazarus green, which put them on alert, but then they changed to blue. The entire feeling, the oppressive atmosphere, vanished.

Blinking. Jason was breathing… Then he started coughing, alarmingly, and then vomited a dark green liquid that turned gray.

Everything was a bit chaotic afterward: someone covering Jason, Alfred bringing water, Tim taking a sample of the vomit, Damian moving Dick to sit on the edge of his bed. Duke moved Jason to the edge of the bed. Cass had brought the trash can so Jason could continue vomiting. Dick was hugging his brother, stroking his back in comfort.

When there was nothing left to vomit, Jason looked exhausted. He was crying and hiccuping. Dick handed him a tissue to help him sniffle.

"Is what's happening really happening?" Steph asked. "Or have we all lost it?"

"Why am I here? Why is everything wet? Why am I naked? What the hell?" Jason asked, his voice cracking, staring at them, completely bewildered. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You were dead!" Steph blurted out.

Dick started laughing. "You're alive! You're alive again, Little Wing! You're alive!"

"How? If the wind carried your ashes away, how did you manage to come back to life? You said you didn't have a body to return to, that you were a ghost!" Duke exclaimed,

“What the hell is this about me being dead?”

They called Zatanna, but she wasn't available. Constantine, for some reason, was, so he appeared and looked at Jason as if he didn't know what he was looking at.

The tests proved what Jason was: a Jason who didn't remember what had happened. He remembered the day before the disaster and part of the morning of the day of the disaster, but everything else was a blank.

Now that they were calm, they took a good look at their brother. Jason even looked a little younger. There was less hardness in his face, fewer calluses on his hands. If Tim's tests were correct, Jason had rejuvenated at least three years, from 24 to 21. There were no traces of Lazarus, or at least the level was low, lower than Cass's or Damian's.

The vomit had turned to such fine ash that it was difficult to keep the sample.

“I don't know what you want me to say, he's alive” John replied.

“But how?”

“Gotham” was all he replied. “The city feels less heavy, less dead, though I should tell you that usually comes with some detail, a trace, so Hood might become more supernatural or more in keeping with Gotham.”

“More in keeping?” Dick asked.

“You’ll notice when it happens, but he’s alive.”

“He was a ghost. Why doesn’t he remember being a ghost?” Duke commented.

“When you come back, you’re not supposed to remember leaving. Your memories can’t come back to this side” Jason blurted out, his gaze a little lost, his voice flat. Then he blinked, puzzled, coming back to himself.

The others stared at him, uneasy about the change.

“I mean things like that,” the blond one pointed out.

“When we talked, Hood said he felt like maybe Gotham had brought him here the first time, that maybe he was a ghost too, what he felt the city, the people, that Gotham is alive but dead, healthier, that she breathed, you could hear her—almost his exact words,” Duke said.

“I can’t believe it was true that Jason was around here as a ghost,” Steph said. “Sorry for not believing you,” she apologized.

“What else did Jason tell you?” Dick questioned, still holding his brother.

“Uh…” he tensely expressed himself, as if unsure how to say it. “What, he ended up in heaven again? He was very surprised he didn’t end up in hell or purgatory? But then he was here, but he couldn’t remember who told him he could be here.”

“Purgatory is so boring and a drag,” John remarked. “You bats are touched by the spirit of the city; maybe it was a favor.” He dismissed it as unimportant.

“I’m surprised I went to heaven a second time, though I still don’t know how I died.” Jason seemed pleased by this discovery.

“Gotham is both alive and dead, that’s true. The city has a spirit. It feels better now, overall. Hood will be more connected to it, but he brought it back. Who knows if there will be a next time, so stay alive.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jason replied petulantly, “but I’m not promising anything.”

They were all gathered in the kitchen, all except Jason, who was under the dining room table.

“Okay, I’m not the only one terrified of Jason, am I?” Tim asked.

“His personality changed drastically,” Damian agreed. “He offered to take me to a baseball game.”

“He took Alfred to the opera, he even wore a full opera suit,” Steph murmured, unable to believe it. “Who goes to the opera?”

“He’s watching a Turkish drama with Bruce! A Turkish drama! With Bruce!” Duke exclaimed quietly, alarmed.

“He’s happy, we went dancing,” Cass shared.

“Yeah, he dances a little awkwardly, but we actually went dancing,” Steph seconded.

“This can’t be Jason,” Tim declared. “Under a TV, next to Bruce’s cell, he’s spending free time with Bruce of his own free will!” I looked at Dick, who was just sitting there silently. “Dick, say something.”

“Jason was like that” he revealed.

“No, Jason was always the angry, reckless, sarcastic one,” Steph denied. “Bruce said it, Alfred said it, Tim said it too and you said it ”

“Even my mother said it,” Damian said. “The failed Batman, she’s called him that.”

Dick looked like he was about to cry. “Jason was never like that, Bruce… Bruce started saying that to everyone, too angry, too aggressive, out of control. I thought that’s how he was, but… Bruce erased all of Jason.”

“Are you telling me that all the crap he told me about not being like Jason, he made it up?” Steph asked indignantly. “Don’t be like Jason, don’t disobey, don’t be too forceful, don’t go it alone, take this seriously, don’t be reckless, and more crap. He made all that up?”

Dick nodded

“Okay, I know Jason was more cheerful before, I know he made Bruce laugh, but this is over the top,” Tim said, ignoring the way the blonde looked at him.

“Jason wouldn’t go on patrol if he didn’t finish his homework,” Dick said, pulling his knees to his chest, even though it was a little uncomfortable with the cast.

“Like everyone else, even if it’s a pointless rule,” Tim dismissed it.

“I can agree with that. It doesn’t make sense and it’s a waste of time. Dad should have realized how inefficient it is,” Damian seconded.

“Jason started it: not going out without finishing his homework, not going out for long hours on school days. Alfred told me Jason practically dragged Bruce into the Batmobile so he could go on patrol without him because Bruce couldn’t believe Jason wasn’t going to be Robin,” the older man recounted, clearly uncomfortable. “Jason called Bruce ‘Dad.’ He said the happiest moment of his life was when he went out as Robin for the first time because Robin gave him magic.”

“Oh" Cass murmured.

“Jason was like that.” Even with his aggressive attitude when he was bothered, he was a very happy child when he felt safe. I thought I had more time, that I could make up for how distant I was at first because he was small.”

“Small? Jason? Although the suit in the cave was small,” Duke commented.

Dick looked at Duke with that devastated expression. “Jason was 4’6 tall at 15 years old. Malnutrition affected him a lot. Jason was so small.”

“4’6?! Shit” Steph muttered.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop hiding under the table,” Alfred’s voice interrupted their meeting.

Embarrassed, they emerged from under the table, looking at the butler.

“It’s just…Jason has changed a lot,” Tim admitted to the butler’s gaze. “Even this is too much.”

“Master Jason has always been the same,” the butler said without missing a beat. “Before, he didn’t feel safe. Master Bruce wasn’t able to give him peace of mind, and now he…” "He feels safe, after everything that's happened, that's the only thing that's changed."

The butler left them there to go about his business, apparently starting to prepare dinner.

They still didn't know how to feel about the change; it felt like a trap set to hurt them, to deceive them. But Alfred's words also made them uneasy, because they already knew it wasn't really the Joker.

It was unsettling to see Jason willingly spending time with Bruce, lowering a couch from the set of things next to a television and settling in to watch something with Bruce, talk about it, make casual conversation, and Bruce himself seemed disturbed at first until he simply let himself go.

It was strange because they weren't talking about Jason's suicide plan or that he had managed to carry it out. It unnerved them when Jason stared at them, his blue eyes darkening and then returning to normal.

They were on alert, and they would remain alert and close.

________________

Another episode ends, how annoying and poor Mahidevran! He shakes her head as he settles onto the sofa, out of the corner of her eye he sees Bruce roll his eyes.

Originally, if Bruce had protested about why they were watching ‘Magnificent Century’ or ‘Muhteşem Yüzyıl’, he would have agreed to watch something else, but Bruce didn't even complain, so there they were.

Even so, when he himself felt overwhelmed, he switched to 'A Vida da Gente', a Brazilian telenovela that has Bruce more hooked than he lets on; he doesn't blame him, he's the same way, Layla, one of his many accountants, recommended it to him.

Bruce remains docile, still not entirely believing he's alive. When he looks at him directly, he searches for the small scar left by one of the many bullets that struck him. It's on the side of his forehead, partially covered by his hair, but it's there, almost vanished yet perfectly formed. He also has another scar on his arm, near his collarbone, where sometimes his clothing doesn't cover it, and sometimes it does.

His two replicas: one version of himself as Robin emerges from the side of the cell, and another version of himself as Red Hood stands upside down on the ceiling. Both are always in Bruce's sight, but the cameras can't see them—an advantage, no doubt, of the Batcave team not being sensitized to the ghosts of the infinite realms.

“You know, Bruce,” he turned on the couch to momentarily face his father figure, “the original plan was to kill you, dramatically as always, dramatically but quickly so you wouldn’t have a chance to do anything. However, this option is the best.”

“Jason, this is wrong,” he said hoarsely.

“You’re just a sore loser, Batman, you always have been” said his Red Hood double.

“You’re not invincible, you let me die!” echoed his Robin counterpart.

“Now that you can no longer be Batman, you can go back to being Bruce. You always complained that ‘I’ wasn’t ‘me’ anymore. It’s called trauma. You wanted your son back, but you weren’t my dad. Now you can be my dad again. Isn’t that better?”

“I beat you, Batman” Red Hood laughs. “I beat you, Batman! I killed Batman!” Drops of ectoplasm fall like blood.

“Don’t you love me? We’ll be a family again!” Robin cries.

“Now you can only be ‘Bruce,’ my dad, everyone’s dad. I think it’s good for our family.”

“Aren’t you proud of me?” they whisper before disappearing.

Bruce frowns, tense because the pool of ectoplasm disappears the longer he looks at it.

“I think being ‘your biggest mistake’ ‘your failure’ like Batman now has a different meaning, by the way, you’re an idiot for telling me that. How did you expect me to believe you love me if you tell me that shit?” He sighed in exasperation.

“That’s not what I meant. Letting you die was my biggest mistake, not you, not choosing you” he defended himself, his voice more broken than usual because he hadn’t really spoken in days.

“Although you must think I am now, but that’s fine. Your biggest mistake was underestimating me, deceiving yourself with your own lies about me. You said so many times that I was reckless and impulsive that you forgot I chose to be reckless. You trained me, didn’t you? At least at the beginning.”

“Yes, I trained you. You liked to learn,” he replied with a touch of bitterness.

He waved a dismissive hand gesture, turning back on the couch to watch TV, ready for the next episode. “I think this is a good time to legally return to life. Jason Todd-Wayne is back from the dead, literally. I’ll do some interviews, say we’re spending time together, maybe we could even post a picture on Brucie’s Twitter. We’ll put you in your bed, all recovered, I’ll sit next to you, and let the world see that we like watching dramas and soap operas together. Isn’t that a good idea? Father and son spending time together, just like before.”

There was no response for a moment. Oh my God, she's been kidnapped again! He thinks agonizingly, trying to keep watching.

“It's not called Twitter anymore,” was Bruce's only reply.

“You should buy Twitter and call it Twitter again,” he commented playfully.

“Maybe.”

The show continued. He reaches for more popcorn; it's incredible how time flies.

“The mother Sultana will be furious when she finds out Suleiman and Hurrem have married.”

“Jason.”

“What? Do you think she'll faint?” he asks, barely giving him a quick glance.

“Jason.”

“Shh! They're getting married!” He silenced him; the chapter was almost over, the minutes ticked away. He made a frustrated noise. "Forget the Mother Sultana, imagine how Mahidevran will take it. They always leave him hanging at the best part."

"I know you hate me."

“What? Oh my God, no, what the hell, Bruce?” He turned to look at him. “I hate Batman. You’re Bruce.”

“We’re the same person.”

“Of course not. Batman is this bastard who only thinks about the mission, who’s never been able to connect with his other children, a hypocrite, disconnected from reality, who slit my throat, but at least he killed the Joker, like he should have the first time.” He smiled with delight at the way the other shuddered. “Batman is out of the game forever, like the Joker, like Red Hood. All three of them are dead.”

“Will you just be my son now? Will you stop?” It was a valid question, so as far as Bruce knew, he hadn't returned to Crime Alley.

"Don't be an idiot. I have the perfect alias, some ideas for a new suit. I'll be Phoenix, literally rising from the ashes. Obviously, I'm going for red, but I can take a few days off. I've prepared everything so Crime Alley can move forward without me."

"You've died twice, Jason."

"I'll stop there," he pointed out. "The correct word is 'murdered.' I've been 'murdered' twice," he corrected with that cruel smile, "like your parents." A deliberate low blow. "We must call things by their names and for what they are. Alfred has told you this, even though you refuse to learn. Lying to yourself and blaming the victim is wrong. It's very rude of you, old man." He snorted, throwing some popcorn behind him, though it would hit the cell wall. "I don't hate you, Bruce. I rose from my grave screaming your name. You're just too caught up in being Batman, but now that I've beaten you and Batman is gone, I’m so happy, this is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to come home. You’ve paid the price. You’re not Batman anymore, and I’m back. Why are you so difficult?” he complained.

“And now that you won’t be Red Hood anymore, will you change your ways?” The question was more rigid, the same annoyed tone as always. “You won’t kill anyone else, will you?”

“Bruce, I think no matter how many times I explain it to you, you never understand. I’ll tell you again, this time differently, even more clearly,” he emphasized, turning around on the couch again, facing him seriously. “Unlike you, Robin, Red Hood, and Phoenix never were and never are a mask. I’ve always been me, the person I need to be to survive in Gotham. I’m not like you, who needs, what, four personalities? Brucie, Malone, Bruce, and Batman. I’ve always been Jason. The helmet is only for protection and to protect your identities. I’ll do what I think is right.”

“You can’t go on like this. You have to stop. You’ll lose control.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m not a dictator, nor am I Ra’s al Ghul. You offend me. You’ve always said you wanted your children to be better than you. Dickie is better than Batman, a hero, but a hero doesn’t decide who lives and who dies. But you know, Bruce, you’re also a prince, the Prince of Gotham, and in that I can be better than you. You’re ‘the Knight of Gotham.’ Bruce Wayne is the Prince of Gotham. The others can continue being Knights of Gotham, but I keep the crown. I rule with an iron fist, but I’m very kind and loving to my people. I have a crown on my head, and you’ve fallen out of favor with Lady Gotham,” he gloated. “It’s your trust issues that brought us here, Dad. Can we keep watching? I want to see the faces of Mother Sultan, Mahidevran, and all the others when they find out Suleiman has married Hurrem.”

Bruce was taken aback, perhaps because he had just admitted something about Lady Gotham or how he viewed the city. He continued to wait for a response. Bruce sat back down in the chair Jason had given him; he wasn't some barbarian who should be watching all those programs standing up or on the floor when the couch was already taking up too much space for him to watch comfortably.

"I don't think she'll faint," was all he replied.

Finally, he was able to settle back down, ready to watch the next episode with more excitement. The mother Sultana hadn't completely fainted, and Jason could accept a draw in that respect because he'd already won in what mattered most.

_____________

He looked at the news that Tucker had shoved in his face on his phone: Jason Todd-Wayne was back from the dead. His friend looked so happy to be legally alive again, even if he was deader than before.

He planned to visit Arsenal next week and then catch up with them at the Canadian border. There was a vegan restaurant there that he was sure Sam would love.

Sometimes he sent pictures of his Turkish drama. He didn't know exactly what it was about. Tucker, for some reason, knew, and Jason had blocked him because he didn't want any spoilers. He'd even resisted looking into the real story, just to enjoy the show.

It was really fun to see Jason with his dazzling smile next to his siblings. Clockwork had told him that Gotham was going to be much better, even if Jason argued with his siblings at some point.

When he told him to befriend other members of the royal, he thought she meant Princess Dorothea. He didn't know Red Hood counted as royalty. Well, since Clockwork didn't tell him when he jokingly named Jason "King of Gotham," he didn't realize he'd actually just done it! But it's a funny little incident, so he lets it go.

Things are going well now, and that's enough.

__________________

Here are my long notes and a bonus scene:

In case you're wondering, Bruce and Jason are watching episodes 41 through 43 of 'Magnificent Century.' Why are they watching it? Why not? I imagine the other Batkids are very confused every time they approach because they don't know what's going on. The Brazilian telenovela is really good!

This time, Jason and Danny become best friends, because Jason wouldn't date a 17-year-old when he's 24, but they have time, so they can sigh over each other for a few more years. They bond over being guardian spirits of their cities; they can understand what it's like to want to protect what's yours at all costs or the fear of losing it, even if Danny lost Amity Park. They bond over being childhood heroes and dying, coming back changed and feeling different because nothing will ever be the same. They talk on the phone, video chat at least 2-3 times a week, and have a group chat where Sam, Tucker, Danny, and Jason write silly things, usually suggestions for places to eat.

Jason saved the spell for when he needed it because he knew he would need it sooner or later, but he'd have the excuse that it was Lady Gotham's fault.

The Jauhar was a practice of mass self-immolation by Rajput Kshatriya women and girls in the Indian subcontinent to avoid capture, sexual slavery, enslavement, and rape when facing certain defeat during a war. Bruce's unbalanced mind lends itself to this comparison, since Jason's plan would only work if he lost all hope in Bruce and the Bat-family, so Jason went to his death along with many of his men to never face justice.

Jason just calls it a mass “murder-suicide,” the biggest “fuck you! I’ll take you all with me to hell” I imagined more in the style of Anck-Su-Namun committing suicide from The Mummy with “my body will no longer be your temple” (which is a very epic line).

Jason the villain, let him be evil, manipulative, murderous, with dangerous ideas, and give him a battalion; The number of soldiers varies from 300 to 1500, but Red Hood's group originally consisted of 442 men and women. After the nuclear plan, the number dropped to 315. Of those, 106 chose murder-suicide (or faked their deaths by fleeing Gotham), with Jason being the 107th. Bruce and Tim believe Jason has a company or cavalry of 100 to 250 soldiers, but they still think he has a maximum of 150 'soldiers'. Bruce doesn't believe Jason is capable, but this is my fantasy, so I say he could have almost 1500 men and women or more if he were less strict with recruitment (he doesn't even call them or think of them as soldiers; Jason cares about his people). When I read about Jason's thugs in fanfiction, I never really imagine how many people there could be. 442 is a lot of people under one person, but also a small number for Gotham. The Batfamily still thinks badly of Jason, even though Jason beat them.

Constantine did many things to secure his soul. Danny being the Ghost King is a reward for him, but it's not going to bother him either. For each objective achieved, he regained a contract on his soul, so he's winning.

The Justice League never found out!

Bruce truly believes he killed those people and the Joker, because all he saw was the staged scene, plus the state of his knuckles. The images of his cowl also show it, and of course, when he tells everyone that he's going to lose control of himself and that they should distrust him and his mind, everyone heard him. And even though he doubts himself, everyone will think it's his mind in denial because there's no one else to blame but the Joker. He's having a breakdown because his thoughts are spiraling out of control. There's also the fact that Jason was his first child he could call his own because he could never put himself above Dick's parents, since he respects them, but there's also this feeling that he could never compete with them.

The more children he has, the more disconnected he feels from them, even though he tries very hard.

Jason hates Batman but loves Bruce, which hurts him the most, so he's eliminated Batman. Eventually, the others might suspect something, but they still don't know "how" he did it. His rise from the ashes is dramatic. Not inviting them to the funeral is petty. He's very cruel to the Bat-family because he has the opportunity to unleash all the pent-up anger and return a cleaner version of himself. He continues to torment Bruce with hallucinations to ensure he can never be Batman again.

Danny was very kind to his parents, even if he technically lobotomized them magically. Jazz no longer wanting to study psychology seems right because maybe she was always trying to heal her family, but there's nothing left to heal, so she switches to studying law.

When they offer a name as a symbol of their friendship, I feel like it would have a great magical/supernatural meaning, even if they don't realize it, which would be the funniest thing for me.

I had a bad week last week; maybe it shows a lot because the original idea was for Jason and Danny to pull a bunch of pranks so the Batfamily would never find out what happened in Amity Park. It was going to be dead on its own, but it ended up being friendship. Everything is very changeable: anger, anguish, funny? cynical? "They all lived happily ever after," especially since neither Jason nor Danny face consequences for their actions. The Batfamily is too happy, too overwhelmed by the miracle to even think about complaining, and nobody's going to tell Danny to complain about his decision, which went against the wishes of everyone in Amity Park, his parents, and Vlad.

A bonus 10 years later! (Jason is 34, though he doesn't look it, Danny is 27)

John knew that sooner or later he would have to call Danny, because the world was in danger, and he knew the little king would wait for someone to call him to sort things out.

So there he was, in Gotham of all places, because it was the only place with a protective barrier. This barrier was caused by the city's guardian spirit, Phoenix, or Red Phoenix—it was just Red Hood with another name, another costume. His favorite excuse was that he could maintain the barrier because it was Lady Gotham's doing, and everyone believed that nonsense. Anyway, the summoning of the Ghost King to save humanity.

Danny had grown a lot, to be honest. Every time he went to check on him, he seemed to grow even more. What did this guy eat? Tall, strong, in an old-fashioned black and white astronaut suit.

"Why?" someone asked, maybe Superman. "What does this mean?"

Danny laughs, the sound distorted by the helmet, he just floats there, the star-studded crown burning in blue flames. “I am the Ghost King. The way you look at me makes no sense, does it? I am king of all that is dead. All of infinity is mine to rule. You are all my people, you are all my faces, you are all my sons and daughters to protect. You are still alive, so you can’t see me as I truly am if that’s what you’re worried about, Kal-El.”

Okay, maybe Red and this kid getting close has had more repercussions than he expected.

“How do you know my name, Your Majesty?”

“You’re already dead, you’re already one of mine even if you came back to life, you died, and all who die are my people” he explained calmly.

Before anyone else could do or say anything, Red stepped forward, bowing in a way that seemed more like mockery.

“Greetings, Ghost King, I welcome you to my sanctuary and the planet I inhabit” he said, now without his helmet, his eyes glowing, which his stupid domino mask couldn’t hide, like a cheap trick that most would obviously fall for. John could only roll his eyes at the sheer audacity.

Danny, the Bratt King, bowed in an equally ridiculous fashion, taking the crown in his hands as if he were removing a hat. “Thank you for your hospitality, Phoenix, King of Gotham, protector spirit of this sanctuary and inhabitant of this planet.”

He was sure that everyone else present couldn’t detect the lack of mockery or sarcasm in the other voices, especially because of the soft, otherworldly echo of both.

“I ask you on behalf of everyone if you could save our planet. Unfortunately, we can't handle this ourselves, and that's why we've called you. I hope I've interrupted your boring work.”

He can't help it and laughs. The others around him are alarmed. The illusion has shattered for them. Just watching this 6'6" astronaut float above the circle to open his helmet visor, the absolute darkness and silence would make anyone nervous.

The abyss that makes everyone look and see only two swirling green orbs far in the distance. Danny laughs, that snotty teenage laugh.

“If you ask like that, how could I refuse one of my children? A protector spirit, one of the rarest to see because you're alive, though not quite alive enough, one of mine” he says in his normal voice with its faint ghostly echo—pure charlatanism!

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he resumed his confident stance. “What does Your Majesty desire in return?”

“You, to eat you.” Using a creepy voice with that dramatic line is so cliché, but the world will be safe.

“Phoenix,” one of Red’s many siblings called.

“I can prepare a proper feast if you give me five hours. Would 8 o’clock work for dinner?”

Danny laughed again. “Of course, though you should get more delicacies. It’s a deal.”

He extended his hand, and Red did the same, sealing the deal. Then they watched Danny fly off at top speed into the sky to deal with the alien invasion single-handedly. There was really no need to lose your temper so much. "Fine, I'm outta here."

"Constantine, you can't do this alone," Nightwing interrupted whatever he was about to say.

"Everything's fine. The Ghost King isn't going to eat your brother along with the appetizers. Maybe your brother will be dessert in bed, though the king isn't that kind. He's just looking for food. I have a lot to do."

Jason had shouted orders about bringing good food from different parts of the world, many different styles. He also said he had to tidy up his apartment.

When Duke asked him why his apartment and not the mansion, Jason said he couldn't invite a king to someone else's house when he had his own place—something about the culture of the dead, which Captain Marvel defended. He didn't seem worried at all.

Tim was much more direct: why had the Ghost King called him "the King of Gotham"? Jason dismissed his suspicion.

"Because I am. I've told you. You're the ones who thought power was going to my head. Lady Gotham said so. It's your fault for not believing me."

The Ghost King, meanwhile, seemed very relaxed, fighting in space, destroying the enemy as if it were a walk in the park. He was taking his time.

“You’re not going to sleep with him” Dick declared.

“I’m not John Constantine, you’re offending me” he growled as he put the cookies in the oven. “Nothing bad is going to happen to me.”

“You’re too familiar with all this, Jason” Tim said, arms crossed, clearly unhappy with what was happening.

“I’ve been listening to the city whispering the secrets of the dead to me for 10 years, and they know it. I don’t know where this attitude is coming from. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be looking for your husband” he argued, glaring at his brothers. “Learn from Damian. He’s too busy to worry about this.”

“Damian will be busy until September, but if he were here, he’d complain too,” Dick grumbled. He missed his little brother, but Damian was too busy with Doctors Without Borders.

“You should be out there with the Justice League. I don’t know what you’re doing in my kitchen” he told his older brother as he started chopping some vegetables. “Tim, go take care of your pregnant husband.”

Stop saying that, Kon isn't pregnant,” he grumbled. “He's just very empathetic and sensitive.”

“That won’t make his nausea go away. Go take care of your husband. I know there are men who experience all the symptoms of their wife’s pregnancy; it’s just rare that he’s suffering because of his surrogate mother,” he explained, pointing his knife at his brothers. “Dick, get lost with the garter belt. Tim, go take care of your husband, don’t be useless.”

“But you can’t stay alone with the king of the dead!” protested the eldest of the three, refusing to leave.

“We’re not going to fuck! And in the highly unlikely event that we do, let me fuck in peace! I’m 34 years old, Dick!”

“But you look like a kid! Does the king like you because you look underage?” he protested, worried.

“Don’t exaggerate. I don’t look that young” he grumbled, downplaying it and continuing with the preparations, changing cutting boards and knives to start slicing the meat.

Tim rolled his eyes, a little exasperated. “Jason, the press keeps publishing stories about whether your return to life years ago is because you’re a vampire, because you’ve barely aged.”

“There have to be advantages to dying, because I was already having existential crises before I died” he scoffed. “Now, I’m letting you both go. Don’t make me throw you out of here.”

Threatened with something they knew his brothers would carry out, they finally left his “apartment,” which was a very simple way of referring to his four-story building that he had converted into a home.

The five hours gave him enough time to cook, check that his people were alright, and that the whole city was safe. He knew that Dick had left the city to continue with the Justice League. Things had changed a lot in Gotham. It was less polluted, safer, even if technically that was because he had many of his own people in vacant jobs. A large part of the police force was loyal to him, as were the prosecutors and judges.

Once the absence of the Court of Owls became obvious, many things were able to improve. There were people who tried to emulate the old rogues, but there were too many vigilantes by then, and much more experienced, to leave them any room to maneuver. Eventually, his siblings remembered what had upset them about him, but it was too late.

Bruce has improved a lot, although everyone avoids talking about certain topics. He's mostly busy taking care of Alfred or looking after Cass and Steph's daughters. Soon, when the new grandchild is born, he'll be even busier. They slowly moved many things to Tim's nest so that the Batcave could be a cave again, even if Tim isn't always there these days. Now that he's preparing for a baby, he's decided to return to the mansion.

The food kept arriving. The burger orders drew skeptical looks, but many knew it was one of his favorite meals.

Right on time, Danny knocked on the door and stepped inside, taking off his astronaut helmet. “It really smells delicious. Does the League think I’m going to eat you like a cannibal, or that we’re going to fuck?”

“Fuck, blame Constantine,” he excused himself. The ring light was already a familiar sight to him; Danny had even surpassed him in height a few years ago. Now he was just the same old Danny Nightingale, sitting down, eager for the food.

“Does that mean I can bite your neck and they’ll get the wrong idea?” he asked curiously.

He bit the inside of her cheek, sitting down too, taking one of the sodas from the burger order. “How about you bite my hip? That’ll give them more to talk about,” he suggested, seeing Danny get a little nervous. “Although I’m open to suggestions if you have one.”

Maybe they’ve been hanging around for the last two years and this is just the most obvious excuse.

“Actually, I do have some ideas, but I always want to eat your food.”

Well, maybe they really will eat dessert in his bed. It’s good that he tidied his room.

The end!

[lukyan-chan]

What are you? Part 3

Supernatural Batfamily, I don't follow any specific canon and the timeline doesn't follow any canon or order either, it's just me and the English translator against the world. Warning: child death, poor coping mechanisms (suicide? I'll leave it implied). Dick has traumas.

_______________________

Superman — Nightwing

At first, Clark didn't think much of it, just a coincidence. Look at him, he goes around calling himself 'Superman.' Actually, thinking about it, it's not like many superheroes or vigilantes can be called creative.

Anyway, 'Nightwing' could be a clever name for a new hero. So he decided to take a look.

Nightwing was young, charismatic, his suit was eye-catching with…that neckline, the tight-fitting suit, but what he lacked in youth he made up for in skill. Every jump, every punch, every silly and sometimes mean joke distracted everyone in Bludhaven.

Something else he noticed was that Nightwing could actually fly. He did the same thing Clark did when walking: hover just close enough to the ground to make it look like he was walking when he wanted to be quiet, but he wasn't actually touching the ground.

But hovering and flying were different. Nightwing didn't fly like Wonder Woman; instead, he seemed to pretend he didn't know how to fly. His acrobatics told a different story; he stayed in the air longer than usual, or perhaps he'd actually seen him flying once when the young man thought he was alone.

He moved as if gravity were a choice. When he was most relaxed, he could see his black hair moving in an air that didn't exist; he also seemed to have a bit more strength and incredible flexibility.

So he began to suspect something.

So he just asked.

Nightwing was bubbly, captivating, but he wasn't really telling him anything. That was fine; the boy was smart. It took him a few months to ask his question.

"How did you choose your name?"

Nightwing was surprised and laughed a little. "I had this uncle, a strange guy, you know? But he told me a lot of stories when I was little. There was this hero 'Nightwing.' I liked him a lot, and well, here we are."

He blinked because that was a very suspicious coincidence. "Nightwing and Flamebird?"

“Yes! I even had this very strange storybook that I still have.”

“Those are heroes of Krypton,” he blurted out, his emotions a jumble. Could it be that he isn’t the last one? How could that be possible?

Nightwing's expression shifted from amusement to bewilderment, then to something akin to realization. "You know, that explains a few things," he blurted out.

"Yeah, he was your uncle, maybe you guys…"

"He wasn't my blood uncle," he interrupted, now a little uncomfortable. "My parents died when I was a kid. I ended up with a family here in the States. I was never really sure where I was born, but in the family that took me in, there was this guy, a third cousin? Everyone just called him 'uncle.' He didn't actually live with us. He was… ummm," he seemed to search for the right words.

"I never really understood what his job was, or where he actually lived, but he'd come to visit and then leave. Anything about his job? But he brought all sorts of things. The book I told you about—he said a friend of his had given it to him a while ago."

"Do you think you could ask him?" The wait was slowly drawing to a close, and Nightwing gave him a sadder smile.

"I'm sorry, Supers, Uncle died a while ago, but I can bring you the book tomorrow."

"Sure, I'm sorry about your uncle," he apologized, though Nightwing shook his head.

"I thought it was a coincidence."

"No, I'm a meta, and besides, I've secured a shipment of kryptonite. Sorry."

"No, it's okay."

The following night didn't arrive as quickly as he'd hoped; he had a few issues to resolve, but finding Nightwing wasn't difficult.

He was carrying a messenger bag from which he pulled out the book. It looked somewhat old, which was surprising, actually, because the letters of his language were printed on it.

He picked it up carefully. It was an authentic storybook, written in Kryptonian, with detailed illustrations. The most worn pages were those with images of Nightwing. It was strange because things like this weren't apparently common on Krypton, something made of paper. He continued reading until he reached the end, where he saw a handwritten note:

A gift for my good friend.

"So all this time it was written in Kryptonian," Nightwing remarked.

"You understand it?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes, Uncle taught me, though I thought it was an ancient dialect."

"Why did you think that?"

“Bat can read it too. One day I was speaking it for fun so he wouldn’t know what I was talking about, and he corrected me! Something about me sounding like I have a Midwestern accent! If that makes any sense, since it’s so old, I thought it was an ancient language. It seems like someone made this book by hand, so all this time I thought a friend of my uncle had made it based on some ancient dialect or civilization.”

“Actually, I did know Batman could know some Kryptonian, but I didn’t imagine how much…” he muttered, more to himself.

“My uncle was funny and kind. He liked to take care of me. I didn't exactly start out flying, but he always supported me.”

“Thanks for showing it to me.”

“Does it bother you or make you uncomfortable that I use the name?”

“No, not at all. I think it suits you perfectly,” he assured him, smiling. Somehow, another part of Krypton's legacy had appeared, alive in an improbable but natural way, like a small miracle. “That name is yours, son.”

“Thanks.”

__________________

Dick —Death No. 1

Sometimes he really wanted to eat to ward off the bad feelings he couldn't face, other times he was just a glutton, and well, why not take advantage?

When a billionaire takes you in, there have to be perks, like being able to buy and try all kinds of sweets and desserts.

So he got these new candies (imported, of course, he was at a school for super-rich kids) that were starting to become popular at the academy. Something about how fizzy and sweet they were made him want to try them!

He bought one of each available flavor, put them in his backpack, and hid them when he arrived because Alfred wanted him to have a good diet, but honestly, sugar isn't as worrisome as the butler makes it out to be.

Just look at Bruce, eating a hamburger with cutlery! It's embarrassing; he won't go down that road.

Once everyone was alone, he took out his entire new stash of sweets for his other hiding places.

He opened one, took a bite, and the 'fizzy' sensation was actually really fun! Like little explosions of flavor inside her mouth, it reminded her a lot of other, much more common and cheaper candies she'd eaten at the circus. This must be the rich people's version!

He continued with another flavor, then another flavor, while he started the task and put on music.

He hummed, opening another package. The wrapper was different, but he didn't think much of it.

He almost spit it out! Spicy! Why was her candy spicy? Yuck!

The little bursts of flavor were just bitter, horrible. The flavor was super concentrated. He looked at the packaging. "With natural extracts?" Yuck!

He took a sip of water that was nearby.

It didn't get better.

In reality, he only felt his throat itch more; he drank more water, but the burning sensation in his mouth did not improve. He wasn't going to cry about this.

He throat felt strange. He wasn't going to cry.

He was crying, his throat hurt, breathing hurt, why does it hurt?

He can't breathe, God, why can't he breathe? He needs to breathe, he needs to calm down, he needs to breathe, he needs to calm down.

He needs to breathe.

He couldn't get up, he felt like he couldn't get up, like getting up from the chair and knowing he was going to fall. He looked around, knocked over his backpack, Bruce gave him a button, Bruce said he needed a panic button.

The mansion and the grounds were so big.

Alfred even said that Bruce had had accidents when he was a child.

He needed the button. He was getting dizzy, he needed air, he needed Bruce, he needed Alfred.

Why was he on the floor?

It was all that stupid candy's fault, natural extracts! Anything healthy was just trouble!

He really wanted Mom and Dad.

______________________

Clark already knew Batman would refuse to let Nightwing join the Justice League; Nightwing himself had warned him. What he didn't understand was that they seemed close, judging by the way Nightwing spoke about Batman.

"He still sees me as a kid, as if he doesn't see most people as kids!" he'd said with a big snort. "The truth is, I've been in this business a long time, Supers. I was just more hidden and used a different name. Of course, you can barely be a vigilante when you're trying to juggle rent, a job, and all I can do is fly. Now I have a little more capital, some smart investments here and there, and I can dedicate more time to this, but Super, I was already out there when you were just starting out. I just have good genes."

He'd protested about it, but when he introduced Wonder Woman to Nightwing, she remarked that the "kid" really did have that "experience" about him and made a lot of evasive answers about his age. He didn't know whether to worry.

In any case, things continued as normal. Nightwing proved to be reliable, experienced, and even diplomatic. Very popular.

Although in a childish way he had seen Nightwing stick his tongue out at Batman when his back was turned. He could say that he sometimes found it amusing.

His shift was just beginning when he heard… an altercation?

"Hey, that was rude, not at all like you," Flash's voice sounded somewhere between indignant and surprised.

"No" was all Batman said, without apologizing.

Nightwing just stared at his broken glass on the floor.

"Is everything alright?" he asked quickly.

Cyborg had an annoyed expression, looking at the mess, like Flash. "Can you believe it?"

"Oh" Nightwing's small sound caught everyone's attention. Chuckling a little, he approached Batman in a quick hug that left Batman a little paralyzed but then comfortable with a grunt, "Thanks for that, B!"

“Be careful, don’t accept drinks from strangers, you know that” he scolded, though not with the harshness he used with everyone else; in fact, he seemed a little worried.

He had that nervous energy that Clark had learned to recognize, the same one that made him feel tenderness toward the creature of Gotham. That eagerness to comfort or reassure a child, as if he didn’t know if he could touch someone but wanted to, to give little caresses to their hair or face.

Nightwing simply leaned forward, letting Batman run his claws through Nightwing’s hair and face, touching his cheeks and shoulders.

“You’re always so soft, B.”

Batman just grunted, perhaps to be melancholic elsewhere, embarrassed?

“What just happened?” Flash asked, very confused to see the bat-nightmare, who was usually tough and severe with them, but had just been so kind and affectionate with Nightwing.

Clark also wanted to know what had just happened.

Nightwing laughed, happy, perhaps touched? “Hey Flash, what was in that?”

“It’s a Japanese drink with blueberry, peach, and lychee” he replied, confused.

“I’m allergic to lychee,” he revealed.

“A lychee allergy? Oh… I’m sorry!” he apologized. “Damn, is it serious?”

“It’s a rare allergy in some parts of the world, but I carry an EpiPen because you never know.”

“So I was just trying to stop Flash from accidentally killing you” Cyborg said sympathetically. “Although the whole thing afterward is still weird…”

There was something strange about the expression Nightwing was making. It was only a few seconds, but… there was something there that unsettled him.

After a while, he couldn't shake the feeling. He went back to find Nightwing, to make sure he was okay. It was strange, but seeing him so close to Batman didn't bother him as much as he thought it would.

Nightwing was doing whatever task he had to do. He didn't think much about it, but he had a small box of cereal nearby, eating from it. He actually rolled his eyes because, well, he knew the Justice League was popular, there was merchandise out there, but most people didn't even believe Batman was real or that he was part of them, so he was surprised there was Batman-themed cereal.

"Hey," was Nightwing's greeting, catching his eye at the box and holding it out. "Want to try some? Can Kryptonians be allergic to anything?"

“Apart from a green rock? No, not really here,” he replied, accepting it somewhat. Curiously, they were very sweet and sugary. “You know, I wasn’t expecting that flavor.”

“You’d think that with Batman’s image on it, it would taste boring, but kids don’t like ‘healthy’ flavors or ‘natural extracts’! Yuck! Someone started this in Gotham as a joke.”

“Has Batman tried them?” he asked curiously.

“Oh, he likes these chocolate bars. They even have little bats on them! But he swears he doesn’t like them, plus a strawberry and raspberry soda.”

“A red soda because they think he’s a vampire?” he asked, amused.

“Yes!”

“I get these cotton candy fries, I have no idea whose idea that was,” he confessed.

“Oh yeah, I’ve tried them, they’re better with caramel,” he advised. “Superhero merchandise has the craziest flavors you can imagine, but as long as you’re not completely green or red, it’s a great experience.”

“Why?”

“It’s always apple, watermelon, lemon, cucumber, and if you’re lucky, strawberry, cucumber-lemon, although strawberry-watermelon and strawberry-lemon have their exceptions.”

He chuckled. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“What brings you here? Do you need help?”

“No, just checking if you were okay, about the allergy,” he confessed, though the dark-haired man waved his hand dismissively.

“I’m fine, Batman’s just like that, though I totally understand, isn’t he cute?”

“He’s worried, yes,” he affirmed.

“Batman always carries EpiPens. You never know what you might be allergic to until it happens. I just bought one candy when I was a kid, and it got really bad really fast.”

“It’s good that they treated you in time.”

“Yes, I was lucky they got there in time,” he smiled, taking a bite of more cereal.

___________________

Robin

The sensation of flying is addictive; each jump feels lighter, as if gravity were a choice.

The feathers of the cape almost feel like his own, like a part of him. Now he understands why Bruce never really takes off his cape.

He loves his cape; he never wants to let it go!

It's the best gift ever! Even if he obtained it after he died.

The suit feels like a second skin, even if it's not the design he chose first. Who would have thought Uncle Danny could be such a prude?

Bruce couldn't fly the way he did; it wasn't his thing. Bruce disappeared into the shadows, entered them, and flowed, though not for great distances. It was a strange sensation when you were moved that way by Bruce.

To further promote the bird theme, he decided to make bird sounds and laughter, because scaring bad guys is fun!

Perhaps the hardest part is keeping his feet on the ground. Uncle Danny says he understands. Moving as if the laws of physics were a choice they didn't make is what makes one feel so free.

Sometimes he looks at 'Uncle' Danny. It's incredible how he actually doesn't want him to be in danger like this. He asked him to wait longer, to grow more, but he couldn't stay still. The condition for letting him go out was that he stay in Gotham, not leave the city, nothing out of the ordinary.

A little more strength, much more flexibility, and the lack of gravity is all he needs.

But the feeling of dying sometimes wakes him up.

"Robin."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he answers Bruce's call.

Batman and Robin fly, following their patrol. The air in the feathers of his cape feels like part of him; he gurgles happily.

One day the gurgling sound didn't come from his throat, it came from his chest. Uncle Danny looked at him sadly.

"You really like lychees, Dickie." Shame rose in his throat, but he said nothing. The feeling of his throat closing up was so familiar.

"I'm sorry… don't tell Bruce, please…" he begged.

"Dick, I know you like these powers, how free they make you feel, but" his uncle was silent for a moment, thinking, "you don't need to punish yourself like this."

"What?" Those words left him confused. "Not me."

"This time I won't tell Bruce, just this once."

He nodded, not knowing what to say. What was there to say?

“It’s okay to miss your parents, to be happy again, to heal, to have fun.”

He doesn’t know why those words hit so hard, why he feels like he’s suddenly collapsing like falling like his parents did.

Uncle Danny just closes the distance to pick him up, to comfort him, tears falling.

“I don’t understand,” he says.

Uncle Danny just hums, “Sometimes birds pluck out their feathers when they’re stressed, did you know that? Even if it hurts them a lot and prevents them from flying anymore.”

Uncle Danny walks slowly; he always knows where they all are, in the mansion or in Gotham.

“You need to stay human, Dickie, to see them again, but when you’re a little older, I’ll take you to see them.”

“Why do I have to wait?”

“There are many kinds of dead people and ghosts, Dick. Not all of them are like me, although in a way, none of them are destined for great changes. If I take you now, they'll think you're dead, they'll try to send you back. You're not supposed to be there; they'll be left with that anguish for quite a while.”

“Oh.”

“Have I told you why your cape is so special?”

“It's magic.”

“It has a little bit of your parents' soul in it, like a piece of their heart. Part of the ‘magic’ comes from their emotions and feelings for you. I know you miss them, and it wasn't fair. I know you're so upset, but you're not alone, and you don't have to sabotage yourself like this. So, let's go see Bruce. You'll give him a big hug because, believe me, Dick, that man needs more hugs. We'll eat ice cream, and the three of us will go flying.”

“Okay.” He nodded, a little calmer. “Can you throw them?”

“Yes.” There was a purring sound that calmed him a little.

“I really hate that taste” he muttered.

Bruce gets him a therapist, Alfred gives Uncle Danny more cookies, although Uncle Danny never tells Bruce what happened, he just intimidated him enough to convince him he needed that therapist. He doesn't know what to think about the therapist, or that he has to have these sessions away from Gotham.

It's…weird.

It's not what he expected, he feels tired every time he leaves there even if things don't seem to be going anywhere. He doesn't think they help, he's still annoyed, he still feels that discomfort under his skin and the urge to scream.

Uncle Danny insists, Alfred lets him have double dessert at dinner on the days of his session, Bruce is nervous.

His therapist is a woman who looks like a stereotypical grandmother, like a sweet, fragile, petite woman with a soft gaze, she doesn't force him to talk and lets him do stretches or just lie on his head on the sofa. At some point something clicks, although he doesn't understand what, but he starts to talk more.

She says he's not supposed to "get over" what happened, he doesn't have to forget it, anger is normal, he can scream if he wants as long as he doesn't hurt anyone else or himself, the emotion is bottled up in his small body and it has to come out somehow.

He needs a hobby that will help him, something that will change his emotions and that doesn't involve hitting a punching bag.

Among many sports or hobbies that aren't "too aggressive," he somehow ends up with ice skating and horseback riding.

Bruce was very willing to build him an ice rink when Uncle Danny beat him to it and built one. So Bruce went ahead and bought a horse without Alfred's permission.

His trainers say he has talent, although both of them almost quit because both on the ice and with Sugar he tried to do dangerous tricks.

The same thing happened when he hung from the chandeliers in the mansion.

It's strange because he could dedicate himself to both of his hobbies and be really successful at them, but he doesn't want to. Sometimes he has a bad day and feels better if he brushes Sugar. He doesn't even do that many tricks when he needs space; just brushing or lying down with the mare is enough.

But he's still Robin.

Robin is something else that no one can take away from him: he makes a difference, he acts, where Batman is classic terror, Robin is freedom, he's righteous fury, he's changing things.

He likes being Robin, even though Bruce can be an idiot sometimes, even though Uncle Danny isn't always around, and even though Alfred is constant in his elegant affection.

No one can take that away from him.

________________

Danny, the "prude," saw the costume Dick wore as Robin and said, "No, you're not wearing that," so he went back to the Infinite Realms to have someone make him a full-body suit. Following this idea, he returned and threw Dick the suit made of "magic fabric" that doesn't feel "restrictive," so Dick wears it. Alfred, Bruce, and Commissioner Gordon are grateful that the kid who had been going out for a few days in the scaly knickers costume finally has pants.

I killed Dick. I gave Dick a "rare" allergy, which is to lychee, although you can take that with a grain of salt. Anaphylactic shock can be faster and much worse than how I wrote it, but I wanted it to be Dick trying to fool himself into thinking it wasn't that serious.

Dick went from “I’ll kill Tony Zuko” to “I was taken in by a billionaire, I live in a huge mansion, I’m Robin now, I have a magical uncle, and now I can fly and fight crime, so I’m happy” too quickly; he’s not processing things properly. Danny keeps his promise; he never tells Bruce or Alfred about Lichi’s sweets or what Dick was doing, but he was very insistent about the therapy, so Dick received a lot more help. Figure skating and Sugar, his mare, help a lot.

Clark briefly hoped that Dick was Kryptonian, and Dick has almost convinced him that he’s older than he is, simply because he’s not technically lying about being in the business for a long time.

That’s all for now, bye~

[lukyan-chan]

What are you? Part 2

Sobrenatural Batfamily, I don't follow any canon, The timeline is unclear because canon is an option I discarded a long time ago. it's just the fun idea that the Justice League doesn't know what's really going on in Gotham or about Batman. It's me and the English translator against the world.

Dialogues in italics are for flashbacks or other special dialogues

______________

Bruce - Death No. 12

“Stop being so desperate, Bruce” the voice says, tinged with anguish or sadness. “You’re setting a bad example for your son.”

“He doesn’t have to know” he replies, taking a moment for his body to return.

“He’ll find out when he sees your abilities improving” the young man beside him scolds. To anyone else, he’s just a young adult, but his face seems disappointed. “You’re not like me, Bruce. You’re mortal. You’ll teach the boy that dying doesn’t matter. He’ll feel so guilty when the people around him die and he has the power to change it but can’t. He doesn’t need so many secrets like this. Don’t be irresponsible.”

His mind dwells on it, on the guilt of returning, of not being able to use this miracle on everyone around him.

“What will you do if one day he refuses to wear it anymore? If that’s what he feels is right?” The question hangs in the air, but he doesn’t answer. “You can’t die from a fall, Bruce. It hurts them.”

“I’m sorry” he apologizes.

“Let’s go home, B.”

When he opens his eyes again, he’s inside the Batmobile. The autopilot is on. Someone is playing with his hair, so they’ve taken off his hood. The humming is soft. The cold of the other person’s body, though bad for his muscles, is a pleasant presence.

____________________

Although the space base is the most striking idea of ​​all the alternatives, details remain about how to get there and back for those who can't simply exist in space.

He offers a bit of his technology, but it will still take time.

Some are betting that he's Batman, which is a rude question, although he's also curious and respects his privacy.

Other things intrigue him. Batman insists he's not a vampire, but Flash still bets he is.

He's noticed that Batman never truly leaves Gotham; perhaps he really can't leave it, Flash had said. Wonder Woman had commented on this.

It seemed to be true; entities like that can't stray far from the places they guard.

That leaves him wondering, if Batman can't leave Gotham, how could he get to the base? That's much farther away.

Wonder Woman told him that since the base itself is being built in Gotham, with Gotham materials, even though it will later be taken to Star City and its fortress for completion, it could still be considered a piece of Gotham—a technicality. She suspects that this technicality is how Batman manages to leave the city.

When the base reaches his hands it is almost finished, it's impressive. Go inside and take a look; it's much more comfortable than any space base, no doubt. The lounge and kitchen are really very good, and even the bedrooms, although empty, have good space.

Mysterious Item Found

The voice of one of his androids catches his attention, so he heads to where it is located in the innermost part of the satellite.

It takes him a few minutes to get there; the internal machinery makes him dizzy with its complexity, but the green glow he fears paralyzes him.

But he doesn't feel weak, he moves a little closer, he doesn't actually feel bad at all, he looks at the small carved stone, it looks like a domino piece.

“Isn’t that kryptonite?” he asks, confused.

“No, while it looks almost identical, this unidentified element provides clean energy, but its composition is unknown. We have no record of such an element existing on this planet, but there was a note,” Phil explains. The android hands him the note; the handwriting is neat.

“Do not touch without proper safety equipment, do not remove roughly, and do not steal,” it reads aloud.

A foolish part of him actually wants to touch the piece, but if the element isn’t from this planet, perhaps he shouldn’t touch it either. This makes him wonder how Batman got it.

Could Batman come from another planet like him?

A question for later.

“If you find anything else non-standard, let me know,” he asks, continuing their search.

It takes them a few more days to find something strange. It’s behind a control panel on a part of the structure. It’s an inscription made by something sharp, a claw, if you will. Although it’s written on the metal. It's less neat than Batman's handwriting, but writing with a quill pen on a claw could also explain it.

"What does it say?" I asked Carl.

"It seems to be a dialect similar to the ancient Greek records of this planet. It appears to be a message of 'luck,' but that wouldn't be the most accurate translation," the android explained. "The closest is 'may we be blessed with luck on our journey.' There are other messages like that, sir."

"Others?"

He was taken to where the other messages were. Some were no longer visible directly, buried deep within the machine's structure, but the scanners allowed him to see them. They were all messages wishing luck or well-being, which he found curious.

He decided to fly off in search of Wonder Woman. He had noted the phrase and what he found next: two inscriptions. One looked almost like a scribble, but he was sure it was a language he didn't recognize. The other seemed to have only a few characters. He would have been startled if he had seen a message in Kryptonian.

“I think he likes us more than he lets on,” he told her with a smile.

“Is that so?” she asked.

“Look, there are things like this written on part of the structure.” He showed her his notes, humming to himself. He knew the Amazon would stare at the Greek inscription with even more confusion, perhaps not expecting to find something like this. “I have a translation for one, but I don’t know what the other two say.”

“How curious,” she said. “It’s not something I haven’t seen in older records.”

“Huh?”

“Perhaps our friend is much older than we expected.”

The Watchtower was already in orbit; it was impressive, although Batman's popularity within the group declined due to his tyrannical nature regarding logistics, administration, and the many documents no one had imagined would be necessary.

He just sighed; he couldn't shirk reports or this kind of work. Batman was finishing his batch of tasks; he didn't really know what he was doing, but they were alone at that moment. He had some questions he wanted to ask, but he figured the Dark Knight wouldn't answer the one he most wanted to ask, so he moved on to the next:

"Batman, there's something I wanted to ask you," he said, receiving a growl, a sign that he was being heard. "Why did you leave messages written on part of the Watchtower's structure?"

Clark still found it curious because he knew Batman's ears weren't entirely real, but sometimes they reacted. When Batman relaxed, he stopped looking so human, as if he were becoming more relaxed around him.

The bat tenses up, but only for a few seconds, seemingly considering whether to speak or not.

"Is it like a superstition or something? It gave me that idea," he says.

Silence is his only response, so he gives up on the topic.

"You can see it that way, a superstition or tradition," he replies, which pleases him because Batman is actually softer than he seems.

"I didn't know the people of Gotham did that, but it's nice."

"It's not from Gotham," he clarifies.

What caught his attention was that he watched him, expecting anything, but Batman seemed lost in thought.

“We write good wishes on what we build so that a part of our heart and hope always accompanies our creations.” The words didn't sound like an explanation, but rather as if Batman had heard those words many times and was repeating them. “And to remember those who built it.”

He was speechless. It was a beautiful thought that made him smile. “I like it, it's beautiful,” he said.

He saw a small smile on Batman's face; the corners of his mouth had lifted slightly. “Thank you.”

Clark wouldn't discover this until later, when the Watchtower was in orbit, some space debris had hit a panel, and he would offer to repair it from the outside.

When the sunlight hit the panel and he could see further inside the machine, the same claw-like scratch that he only mentioned to Diana was the combination of light on the circuits. In perfect Kryptonian, the phrase he reads is:

“Just as the sun shines, may hope always illuminate our hearts.”

Clark is stunned and deeply moved by these words, even though he really wants to know how Batman learned his language…but for now, he'll leave that question for later.

__________

When he returns to the cave, he takes off his suit with methodical movements, the same order as the previous days and the days to come.

Dick is having fun with the flying rings; Alfred must be up above. His uncle is there, watching Dick, his ever-captivated audience, laughing at whatever they're talking about or playing.

"Hey B!" Dick greeted cheerfully.

"Hey buddy, Uncle."

"Hey B," was his uncle's relaxed greeting.

"How many messages did you write on the watchtower?" he asked.

"One for each team member, plus a little stamp of mine," he admitted.

"What does mine say?"

"Aren't you a great detective, Brunie Boo?"

Dick laughed from above; he always found it very funny when his Uncle Danny called him by such childish nicknames. "Hey Brunie Boo, Uncle Danny gave me two names!"

He raised an eyebrow curiously, not knowing what the teenager had called him, but he would have to find out.

He walks through the hospital for his routine check to make sure the entire budget is being used where it should be. He doesn't always do these rounds, but sometimes he wants to.

With Brucie Wayne's famous clumsiness, he "gets lost" in the building—a rather inelegant way of saying he's going to sneak around his own building—until he reaches one of the filing and cleaning supply rooms. As expected, no one is there in this somewhat hidden room. In a corner, he looks for markings on a wooden shelf, running his fingers along the underside of one of the shelves.

The mark of several letters was there; he bent down. Someone had carved "good fortune to you." There were many initials around the phrase, but he focused on two: T.W. & B.W.

"We write good wishes on what we build so that a part of our heart and hope always accompanies our creations," his father said as he took a small knife from his pocket.

"What are you doing, Dad?" he asked curiously, seeing his father lying on the floor.

"It's a game too, Bru, crouch down." He lay down beside him, looking at the other markings. "You found this one, so let's put our initials on it."

"Everyone found one too!" he exclaimed in surprise, looking at the many initials.

"When you build something, you write your own hidden message in something that will always be there. Maybe your children or grandchildren will find it. There are lots of these around the mansion."

"I'm going to find all the ones I can!" He watched his father put his initials next to his own.

"How about tomorrow, when Alf drops you off at the hospital, we look for more messages together?"

"Yes!"

Him smiled at the memory. Maybe his should build another building so Dick could leave his mark.

________________________

This is a short clip, but it captures moments; Dick and Danny make a brief appearance in the background.

Danny wrote many messages on the Watchtower, one for each member, but that's ambiguous.

The message in Greek is in an even older version because Danny learned that from Pandora, so we'll understand that when we see it from Diana's point of view.

Another message is written in Martian, and the message I wrote thinking of Bruce is missing.

The timeline is unclear because canon is an option I discarded a long time ago. But Batman (and Robin) have been vigilantes for much longer.

Next up is Dickie's chapter!

[lukyan-chan]

DC X DP Prompt What are you?

Sobrenatural Batfamily, I'm not following any canon, it's just the fun idea that the Justice League doesn't know what's really going on in Gotham or about Batman (because it's funny!). It's me and the English translator against the world.

__________________

Clark looks at Batman, the creature of Gotham. He looks like a man, a human in a special suit, black Kevlar with a bat on his chest. The clawed gloves look natural, as if they were really his hands, even though he sees the reinforced details. The white lenses make him feel uneasy. He might have thought he was human if it weren't for the fact that he couldn't hear his heartbeat, nor the blood rushing through his veins, nor the sound of his lungs breathing. His chest didn't rise or fall. Wonder Woman leads the one-sided conversation because the "man" doesn't respond except with a few grunts.

He hears a low scream; it could be a child. He notices one of the pointed ears twitch toward the noise.

Batman moves, backing away to drop from the building. He moves quickly to be with Wonder Woman. They see him glide. The cape looks like black bat wings. He clings to the side of the building across the way. The claws could be real. He moves and fades into the darkness.

“It didn’t go as planned,” the woman beside him admitted.

“He needed to leave, did you hear? He seemed like a child,” he excused himself. His companion nodded, though of the two, he had better hearing.

He concentrated, but never heard Batman land. He was silent, even though he appeared to be a heavyset adult man. The armor and the muscles it protected shouldn’t be so quiet, but they were.

“It’s like he takes the noise with him,” he commented. He had noticed this; when Batman was there, the surrounding noise had diminished. He knew he was close, but there was no sound. It was terrifying. “But he’s not an evil entity.”

“Do you know what he is?” he asked, though she shook her head.

“He’s not evil, but he has…a deathly quality, like he comes from the underworld, but not Hades. He’s not inherently evil. Do you think he’ll come back?”

“Green Lantern said he doesn’t like outsiders, maybe we’ll just have to wait.” The man had spoken of how terrifying Batman had been but had told him to leave his city. “What do you think of Gotham?”

“It has…ancient, cursed magic, it’s oppressive, it doesn’t like us being here.”

How reassuring, he thinks. He’s been to Gotham before, for work. It’s too bleak for him. Perhaps it’s fitting that the vigilante here is the same.

The sound of a child’s voice, familiar to him for some reason, grows louder. Silence falls around him. Batman returns from the other side of the roof, right through the door, and…does he look sad?

There’s a boy. He knows this boy, 12-year-old Richard Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s ward. His clothes are worn, he has bandages on his fingers and one on his cheek that belongs to Superman. The boy is tugging at Batman’s hand, his large hand gently holding the preteen’s.

He's very confused about why Richard Grayson is here, dragging Batman along.

"Did you bring a kid…?" Wonder Woman asked, just as confused as he was.

"Oh no, I was being kidnapped, like always," Richard said calmly. "They were going to bring me back, but he was acting weirder than usual and said there were strangers. But then I found out it was Superman, and I had him bring me here."

"Do you get kidnapped often?" he asked, worried. Batman seemed to sigh, though not breathlessly, just a movement. "Are you okay?"

"Shouldn't you be taken home?" Wonder Woman questioned.

"Batman already told Commissioner Gordon he rescued me," he said dismissively.

"Focus," Batman's voice was low and husky. Perhaps he wasn't used to speaking?

"I'm curious! What if they come to take you or something? They can't take you. Who's going to stop us from being kidnapped?"

“We didn’t come to take you away, you can relax,” his partner assured him.

“Here,” Batman made a slight movement, taking a small notepad and pen from his utility belt and handing it to Richard.

The boy now seemed shy but excited, looking at him with the same excitement many children have, though he was curious that he hadn’t approached him more at first. He took Batman’s hand again, who led him closer.

“Can I have your autograph?” Richard asked.

“Sure, kid,” he laughed, taking the notepad. It was a new one, which was odd.

“On behalf of Richard,” the boy said, even though he already knew his name.

He looked up slightly, and Batman seemed even more terrifying. Why? Jealousy? Richard didn’t seem to find it strange or frightening.

“Here you go,” he said, handing him the notepad, which the boy then passed to Wonder Woman, whose signature was much nicer—no, I’m not kidding.

It was curious, but with her, Batman didn’t seem so murderous. Was it because she was a woman…?

“Okay,” she says.

“Look, I’ve got them!” she exclaims, looking at Batman, who nods. “Don’t be so grumpy, it’s Superman and Wonder Woman!”

“It’s late, you should go to sleep,” he says, ignoring the comment.

“Can we go for the rooftops?”

“No.”

“Someday I’m going to get you to say yes!” he protests, but is easily led away by the bat. “Are you going to leave them there?”

Another growl

“You know, I know someone who would think that’s a little rude.”

“Mr. Pennyworth doesn’t need to know about that.”

Ah, the Wayne family butler. Yes, he seems like a normal old man, but somehow he’s kind of terrifying. It wouldn’t be surprising if Batman knew the man somehow, considering how often he rescues Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson.

“Goodbye, Superman, Wonder Woman!”

“Goodbye, Richard.”

“Get home safely.”

“You have to say goodbye, you know. Or are you going back to the secret talk?”

“I’m not coming back.”

“We’re lucky Bruce doesn’t want to go out with you. Alf might scold you for those manners too. Don’t go out with Bruce.”That last comment sounded a bit more serious.

“He’s not my type,” he replied, pulling he cape over the preteen and vanishing back into the darkness.

“Green Arrow said he was good with kids. Seems like that’s true.”

“Do you think he hates me? I don’t look at you that badly,” he asked, confused. He didn’t need another person with his influence to hate him.

“No, maybe it’s just a bias. Black Canary told me she had that impression. Perhaps he sees all men who are near children as dangerous and relaxes a bit with women, but it could also be that he thinks you’re more dangerous.”

“But he didn’t say he refused,” he sighed.

They’d have to go.

_______________

Death No. 1

Bruce Wayne dies, not in that alley with his parents, but on the grounds of his own mansion, falling through a hole into what appears to be a cave crevice, two years after his parents' murder. There's something instinctive about not wanting death. Everything is dark; his body aches, but it burns more with helplessness.

He was filled with pain and rage. He couldn't die like this, here. Alfred might never find him and would spend his whole life thinking someone kidnapped him or that he had run away. Alfred would die without ever knowing about him.

He refused to die like this. He moved in agony, screamed, sobbed, and darkness swallowed him.

When he opened one eye, another boy was there, running his cold hand through his hair. He was confused.

"Who are you?" he asked. Speaking was difficult, wet, with the taste of blood.

"What do you want?" He responds with a question, but the pain makes him delirious. This had to happen, so he answers:

“I have to get out of here. I just figured it out, I know what I want, what goal to achieve. It can’t end like this,” he says, the words coming out less slurred. There’s still pain, but breathing doesn’t feel so bad anymore.

“What goal?”

Then he tells him, crying for his parents, for the injustice, the rage, the pain, the sadness, his hope.

The other boy hums at the end, glowing. His snow-white hair moves even though he doesn’t feel the breeze. His suit is black and white, his eyes bright green. Is he hallucinating, or could this be his guardian angel?

“A hero, huh?”

“No, an avenger, a vigilante.”

“An avenger kills, a vigilante could too, but you have hope, so a hero,” he says. “It’s a difficult path ahead of you. You seem like a good person… But this family has always been like this, so I’ll help you. Rest, Bruce, everything will be alright.”

“Who are you?”

————he was going to ask again, but he didn’t hear well. He smiled at him. He looked like someone…

For some reason, he was left with the image of a boy who looked a lot like him: black hair and blue eyes.

When he opens his eyes, Alfred is beside him, with that worried look, but everything sounds distant. He’s there. It’s already night, and the stars shine brighter.

So beautiful, he thinks.

(Alfred will tell him years later that he was covered in blood, his clothes torn in so many places, and that he suffered from a concussion for days, but he could never explain what had happened.)

_______________

His second encounter with Batman is on another rooftop. This time, it seems to be after the vigilante had taken care of something, judging by the sound of police cars below and ambulances a block away.

He notices the cape; it moves slightly, and the edge appears to be black smoke. The claws leave a mark on the building's edge, larger than usual. The white lenses look annoyed, and the ears are static.

"Okay," is all he replies, though he hasn't delivered his prepared speech.

"Thanks."

"But only part-time," he clarifies.

"Part-time…?" he asks curiously. Half a day? Half a night?

"Like a part-time job. I can't leave Gotham unprotected for too long."

"Sure, whatever works for you. How do you want to manage it?" he asks encouragingly.

"Do you have any billionaires who don't hate you?"

Was he teasing him? "Um… do we have Oliver Queen from Star City?"

“Fine, I’ll fix it. He went to boarding school with Bruce.”

“You rescue him pretty often, don’t you?” he smiled, amused.

“He’s not my type,” was the automatic response. “You should leave now.” Like last time, he walked toward a wall in the darkness and disappeared.

Green Arrow arrived at the next meeting saying that they had Bruce Wayne parting with a lot of his money. Batman had also sent some blueprint ideas for a secret base of operations.

Bruce Wayne was even willing to finance a space base for them just because “Batman politely asked him” when he rescued him last weekend, which was crazy because how much money does a man have to finance a secret space base just to give it to the guy who rescues him?

The power of money is terrifying. Although Lex already causes a lot of trouble, so it shouldn’t surprise him.

The next meetings are at night. Flash still doesn't believe Batman is real; unfortunately, the guy only seems to scare Flash more…

“You give me a weird vibe. I don't mean to be mean, I just don't know, I doubt it. Sorry.”

Batman looked at Flash and said, “You look malnourished.”

“Does that mean you wouldn't eat me?” the speedster asked hopefully.

“I don't think eating you would be healthy.”

“Why am I malnourished?”

“Because you radiate some radiation. Therefore, if there were a scenario where we had to eat each other, the first person ideally suited to be eaten would be Green Lantern.”

“Why me?!” Green Lantern complained indignantly.

“Because you're human. Your power comes from the ring. Even though you move through space, the ring's power should protect you from the hostile environment of space. So, in theory, your flesh would be the safest for us to consume in a survival scenario.”

“And what about you?” questioned indignantly

"There's a 25% chance that eating me might actually satisfy your hunger with a small amount of meat, but the remaining 75% is the possibility that it will cause you a slow death due to poisoning," he replied in a monotone voice.

"How do you know that?" Flash asked in a worried murmur.

"Some people, when they try to escape me, try to bite me so I'll release them from my grip. So far, only a small group of those people haven't required me to take them to the hospital for poisoning."

"What the hell…?" Green Arrow muttered in the background.

"It's okay, I have an antidote for that," he reassured them, though it seemed more like a casual remark to Clark, not a reassurance of the group, who were going crazy while Batman seemed oblivious to the horror. "Do you have any allergies?"

"No, not that I know of” he said, still trying not to think about the previous conversation.

Batman simply pulled an energy bar from his utility belt and tossed it to Flash, who honestly wanted one too.

“Wow, thanks,” that was curious. He opened the bar to take a bite. “Hey, this is good.”

“Good,” was all he replied before disappearing into the shadows.

He's not much of a talker, but it gave Clark the impression that if they were a group of kids, he'd stay put.

“Okay, that was scary, but he brings good snacks. It's not so bad.”

“You're not even worried he's poisoned or something?” Green Lantern complained.

“He didn't say he doesn't eat humans either, did you notice?” Green Arrow added with concern.

______________

Clark will be a frequent narrator in this!

The good thing about this idea is that I have like three documents with a lot of stuff written, two of which are things I edit into the third document. Which is good because since these are short chapters, I'll be able to do this quickly.

Batman looks normal at first! Like a man in a special suit, but little by little it will become obvious that things are happening that the Justice League wants to wonder about or doesn't want to know.

That little, sad Bruce "dies" when he falls back into the mansion grounds is hilarious to me, so Lil Bruce falls again, only now there are no bats, just pain, cold, and absolute darkness.

Bye ~

[lukyan-chan]

DCXDP One-shot - The destroyer

For the crown of the infinite realms, one day I will win.

Today on "Everything Goes Wrong" we have: 'character death'. Everything could have gone well if this were another one-shot about a rejuvenated Jason. This starts as one thing and ends as something completely different. Unreliable narrator. This is the third time I've said that Jason and Danny are the same person. A long final note because I don't know how to shut up. I don't speak English; it's me and the translator against the world.

_________________

It began with a spell. The fearsome Red Hood ended up as a small, thin, seven-year-old boy, looking as if he could be carried away by the slightest breeze.

He looked even smaller and more fragile on the stretcher in the cave.

When Zatanna arrived, she waited for the little boy to wake up, but she had already said that it was best to let the spell run its course, so they would have to wait to see if Jason remembered who he was or if they had to tell him.

The sorceress explained that little Jason would grow little by little; it would take days, because he had to remain at one age for at least three days. Bruce's concern was obviously about what would happen when Jason reached fifteen or sixteen.

In a show of intelligence, Duke recruited Steph, Cass, and Tim to rearrange things at the mansion "just in case," because Jason would definitely end up sneaking into the cave and asking questions.

So the family portrait was taken down, the Robin memorial was also slated for removal so the costume could be displayed alongside the others, they searched for every photo they could find of Jason, Cass even got Damian to retrieve some from his time in the League—all "just in case."

Dick was nervous, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, also keeping an eye on Bruce because he obviously wouldn't know how to handle him well.

When the little boy finally woke up, he was filled with fear, crying, holding back the scream he obviously wanted to let out, looking at everyone in terror.

It took them almost two hours to explain and reassure him, although it was obvious that he didn't fully believe them. He didn't remember them; he only had the memories of that age. It was clear he knew what had happened to his parents, so he just stayed silent, clenching his fists in the sheets, still crying and refusing comfort from anyone.

It was torture at first because all they wanted was to hug him and tell him everything would be alright. Even though that wasn't true.

They spent the first night watching their every move, trying not to disturb the little one who also didn't sleep much.

The only good thing, if you can call it that, was that he would remember the following days, so they wouldn't have to go through the same explanation with each age change.

There wasn't much difference between ages 7 and 9 in terms of height or weight; in fact, at 9 years old he seemed much thinner and fiercer, which broke all their hearts. But they had made much more progress, such as believing them about magic, and seeing the photos around the mansion (at least in the rooms they had taken him to; he still didn't trust wandering around on his own and hadn't gone down to the cave) showed all traces of the adult Jason.

On the second day, at age 9, he changed almost completely, much more relaxed with all of them, although he still kept an eye on Bruce since he was the oldest.

Twelve days after the incident, the 10-year-old Jason Todd became all laughter and sarcasm, enjoying the hugs from Dick, Cass, Steph, and Alfred.

He also asked Duke many questions about school. Tim determined that it was his accent, in addition to his personality, that made him trust Duke more.

He seemed curious about Damian and was trying to get Tim to sleep.

At 11 years old, he became less distrustful of Bruce, read to Cass, played pranks on Tim along with Steph and Duke, and even dared to ask Damian if they could spend time together while walking Titus around the mansion. He showed more skill in the kitchen and started having tea with Alfred. He insisted Dick take him for a ride on his motorcycle and called him stupid for having been a policeman.

At 12 years old, he stood for a moment in silence, looking at his room. He was just as tidy: bigger clothes, his books, his leather jacket. When he went down to the dining room, there were photographs. The space where the family portrait should have been was empty. He had asked about it before because it was obvious something was missing. Tim told him the newest one wasn't ready yet, so the space remained empty. When he got to the dining room, he saw everyone. He lingered a little longer on Dick, but mostly he looked at Bruce.

That made everyone nervous, and before Bruce could say anything, Jason ran towards him, calling him Dad.

Jason's slender body was no match for Bruce's massive frame when he leaped towards him and was caught mid-air.

"You did it!" he exclaimed, still in Bruce's arms, who looked confused.

"I've done a lot of things, Jayland. What did I do this time?" he asked with a gentler expression, enjoying holding his son.

The boy looked at the others. "You got us a big family. I'm sure I told you I always wanted lots of brothers. Now I have so many, even sisters and a little you!" he said, more excited than ever, oblivious to the pain that pierced several of them. "You even got that idiot Dick back. I told you you could!"

"Okay, I won't take it too hard because I was a fool," Dick admitted. "I want a hug too, Little Wing!"

With an ease he hadn't shown before, he simply stretched out his arms, certain that Bruce wouldn't let go until he was in Dick's arms, who practically crashed down beside him to take his little brother.

Twelve-year-old Jason was closer to Bruce than he was to him; he let him hold him, talked to him, and called him "Dad." He also wanted to follow Damian, to watch him train.

Tim, in a fit of jealousy because this was the Robin he had followed when he was young, decided to pull out a large number of his old photos of Jason's Robin.

That clearly made him the favorite brother of the day.

Thirteen years old. Jason had finally stopped looking so thin; his muscles were finally more defined, and he'd gained some height too, although his face still had all that baby fat.

Much more confident. He wanted to go out, but Steph had managed to convince him to stay because Jason wasn't Robin anymore; Robin was Damian, and his current costume didn't fit him at all.

Damian, determined to be the favorite brother again, pulled out his own baby photos, where the older Jason was holding him.

Too distracted by his apparent time training with ninjas like Bruce once was, taking care of Bruce's son.

Damian made the small mistake of mentioning that Talia saw him as a son, so the 13-year-old crisis was calling Talia, her answering (even though they hoped she wouldn't), and seeing little Jason enamored with the idea of ​​sharing a mother with Damian.

They pestered Bruce about it at dinner.

“Look, obviously it didn’t work out with Catwoman because Damian exists, Superman is married with kids, so you missed that boat too, which, wow, I still thought you’d get him, but it’s okay. Superman wouldn’t survive Gotham, and as always, Wonder Woman didn’t even give you the time of day. But Talia called you ‘beloved,’ she still feels something, and don’t screw it up, Bruce.”

“She chose her father, Jayland.”

“Of course she would. What idiot would give up being an Arabian princess for a billionaire Yankee? You made a huge deal when Dickie wanted to choose Starfire, it’s the same thing.”

“It’s not like it’s the same thing, we have a code, Jason.”

“Cultural differences, Bruce. Don’t be intolerant. That’s why Superman didn’t marry you, although I still don’t know how you messed things up with Selina. But Talia’s there, Bruce. What’s the visitation arrangement?”

“We don’t have a visitation schedule, she just shows up.”

“Bruce, I hope you’re not keeping my little brother away from his mother.”

It was so hilarious because Dick could have sworn he knew Jason knew about Talia at that age, but maybe they didn’t take him seriously because he was always in a bad mood about her.

14 years old. The cracks were showing. It wasn’t that they hadn’t started, but they were more obvious this time. They couldn’t just dodge the questions by distracting the boy anymore. The charm was wearing off, it was coming to an end.

The nervousness, the tension, the fear, because even though the lies and deflections were working, the questions were still there, the cracks.

15 years old. Almost a full month since Jason had been turned back into a child. The atmosphere was tense, the questions were different.

It got better, right? I did the same thing as Dick and was an idiot with his teenage angst, right?

Tim… I was mean to you… wasn't I? I… I'm sorry.

Something's not right.

On the 27th, they called Zatanna because they didn't know what would happen when she turned 16. The atmosphere was still tense. Jason was upset because he knew something had gone wrong, something very wrong, and no one wanted to tell him what it was. He couldn't even access the files. He hadn't been able to figure it out in the previous days, but it had to be important to worry everyone about her reaching that age.

It was like a calling from something. He was lingering around the cave because he wanted to know, even though he had to hide because Bruce called Zatanna.

It was just an accident

He headed to the dining room, already a little late. It still hurt, but he didn't want to think about it.

It was just an accident.

It was as if he wasn't there. He just wanted to eat breakfast and go back to sleep, even though he knew he shouldn't.

Was it just an accident?

He stared at his plate… when…?

“Why do I have turkey ham sandwiches and toast?” he asked, confused, not quite catching everyone's attention because his arm was shaking so badly. “I hate them.”

“Uh… Jason, you don't hate sandwiches,” Dick commented.

“No, I'm talking about the toast. I hate it. We stopped eating toast because I hated the idea of ​​buying a new toaster,” he complained, completely oblivious.

“Jason, are you okay?… What happened to your arm?” Bruce asked, worried.

There was a second when Jason looked at his arm and hand, which were trembling.

It was just an accident. I shouldn't have been there. Just like in the warehouse.

He looked up. Everyone at the table was worried, some more obviously than others. The larger man at the head of the table had already stood up.

"Who are you?" he asked, completely confused. His arm had made a noise, as if it had broken, but the boy didn't even seem to notice. The trembling had stopped. "Who are all of you?"

He looked back at the table, the food, the toast, and his mind shattered.

__________________

They had tried to hide the truth, fearing that Jason would reach 15, that he would remember his death the moment he woke up, that something would go wrong. They had been walking on eggshells, and breakfast didn't seem so good when they saw Jason arrive. He was strangely pale, then his arm and hand began to tremble. He seemed confused; something was definitely wrong.

They clearly heard his arm snap, though he didn't seem to notice, to feel it.

Then he didn't recognize any of them at all.

He fell.

He collapsed screaming, his body breaking in front of them, the other bones of his body, the bruises appearing.

A golden glow was surrounding him, the magic reacting.

It was distressing. Bruce carried him as best he could because he was still writhing even though his body was breaking apart, toward the cave with all of them running after him, though giving Alfred space.

Zatanna should have arrived by now!

Limbs broke, healed, Tim could only watch as things went wrong.

He was calling for Zatanna, for whoever answered.

Cass slipped into the room where Jason was being held, everyone following Alfred's orders as he tried to figure out what was happening. Bruce yelled for someone to bring Leslie, Alfred said they might need the Watchtower.

It was chaos. Zatanna had finally appeared, running towards Jason, when some kind of explosion knocked them back and blinded them with its brilliance.

It stunned them all.

The heart monitor showed no heartbeat.

There was a scream, Tim couldn't even think of it as a real scream, it was a sound of anguish. Then a sob that he knew was Dick's. Of the others around, he was the second to move, along with Damian. Instinctively, he pulled him into a hug to shield him from the sight.

Jason's body was still there, his chest ripped open, blood, organs, and flesh covering Alfred, Bruce, Cass, Dick, and Zatanna. It was like that scene from Alien, only there wasn't a xenomorph bursting from Jason's chest, just his open chest as if it had exploded from the inside. Those seconds felt like an eternity.

Something impossible happened. He saw Jason inhale, though he was sure his lungs were there because of the lamp and Alfred's face. He could see there were no lungs taking in air, that he was still bleeding. But then came the Lazarus Water, his blood turning green and spilling out, forming organs, forming lungs in real time, to their utter horror and contemplation.

Jason seemed to react, his expression of pain clearing. He was conscious, looking at them and screaming, though it shouldn't have been humanly possible.

The scream startled them, snapping them out of their stupor, and someone yelled that they had to close the wound. There was no time for anesthesia. He threw Damian out of the room and closed the door.

It takes them a while to close the wound on his chest, with Jason becoming restless, begging them not to do this to him again, saying it hurts, uttering words he's sure will haunt them forever and give them nightmares, until he finally lost consciousness and they were able to finish stitching the wound together—Alfred, Bruce, Dick, and him.

Zatanna summons them to the Watchtower for better medical equipment.

Nothing makes sense.

_________________________

When he opens his eyes, he's in a room that looks like a hospital room. He feels panic rising in his throat, but the window shows him planet Earth. He's in the Watchtower.

He knows he's in the Watchtower, in a private room that must belong to Bruce, even though he knows it's rarely used.

He's in space, and all happiness dies because horror fills his heart.

He knows what happened; it's clear to him now, but he doesn't care. He wants to go crazy right there, to scream, just scream until he can go home. But there's no home anymore. It doesn't exist. Not his old home, not his former life. He's no longer Danny; he's Jason, but he's Danny and Jason at the same time.

The memories of his life as 24-year-old Jason and those of Danny Phantom exist in his head. He's no longer a Halfa; he doesn't have his powers. He's alive, and that doesn't even make it better.

His life as Jason is torture, a cruel joke… he just wanted a family.

All he wanted was a family that would love him.

Although he is surprised that he did not destroy the world, there was a timeline where he destroyed everything because everyone he loved was blown to bits; grief had changed him.

Although taking over crime in Gotham as a crime lord by murdering people was not something he could overlook.

He tried to move, but his arm hurt.

It had been an accident.

Perhaps it hadn't been an accident.

A green note appeared next to a USB drive; a sense of calm washed over him. His father couldn't be happy about this, but he had a chance.

He looked out the window, trying to use his powers. He could feel them, so he tried, though he hoped he wouldn't become intangible… he could very well die and come back, but he wanted to preserve his life.

His arm had no scars; it was somewhat numb, but he touched the window with both hands, gazing at the vastness of space. Maybe it was just seconds, maybe hours, I don't matter to him.

That's when the door opened, revealing part of the medical team and Bruce.

Bruce, his adoptive father in this life, Bruce who wouldn't do anything to save him, Bruce who doesn't trust magic and doesn't know what privacy is… Bruce who slit his throat to save the Joker.

Bruce… who will never be able to protect him.

The paper note and the USB drive feel heavy in his hand. He looks back at space.

Jason Todd has no impediment to reaching space; Jason Todd has been in space on his own, many times, which is not even news, just something more even if he did not go to university.

Jason Todd is legally dead.

But Danny can legally stay alive with a few phone calls while he decides whether to go back to being Danny Phantom or Red Hood, whether to be someone else or stick with what he's comfortable with of Danny and Jason.

He doesn't need Bruce, not a father like him who, even though he loves him, can't save him in the ways that matter.

"Jason"

He has no right, he thinks, Bruce has no right to be like this, to call him that one day as if he were fragile, a frightened animal, and the next day call him as if he were a monster.

His body reacts without his permission, wanting to move away from him, he shudders.

“No” he says softly.

Bruce puts on that pained, desolate expression. It’s not fair. “I just want to help.”

He looks at the doctors and nurses; he knows they won’t hurt him. He knows that.

“You… you never help me in the ways that matter. You’ll never really be there for me… you’ll never save me.”

If he could trust that Bruce would believe him, that he would help him fix things, that he would set him free, that he would accept him, things would be so easy, everything would be alright… but Bruce will never be like that with him. If it were Dick, if it were one of his other brothers, he would help so easily, he would at least respect him, he would at least trust him a little.

But Bruce never trusts him, never Jason, and he won’t trust Danny either.

“Jayland” he calls him with that wounded tone, as if just approaching him and hugging him would make everything alright.

But Jack had hugged him, told him he loved him, supported his dreams, gone out with him, had loved him, and yet… He had still hurt him so much in ways that could never be repaired, swearing he was saving him because he loved him, raging because Phantom had stolen his son, grieving his death even though it hurt him, a grieving father who loved him.

Bruce won't open him up like a frog, but he'll lock him in an invisible cage. He'll never be able to escape his control, not without dying at least, and he doesn't want to die. He's tired of dying. For once, he wants to die on his own terms, choosing his own cause to die for, the hill on which he chooses to die.

Bruce has contingency plans for him: to beat him, lock him up, hurt him, all under the guise of a code, saying he does it because he loves him, that they're still family, that he'll always be welcome back home, but he'll never stop pointing a gun at him when he steps out of line.

He's fed up with billionaires with secret basements who wear capes and insist on calling him son.

He glances behind the crowd and sees Dick anxiously wanting to get in, maybe drag Bruce out of there and try it himself. Well, Dick is actually better than Bruce.

"Dickie!" He let go.

Dick didn't disappoint, making his way into the room, leaving Bruce behind, and hugged him.

"I've got you, little wing, I've got you."

Jazz also had big sister syndrome, almost like a mother to her. Dick had already been that for others, maybe not for him, but he could always start now.

"I don't want him here, I don't want him, I don't want to see him."

"B, you should get out of here."

At least Dick was able to get Bruce out of there just by asking him to.

_______________

The Dark League was very confused about Jason. The spell had somehow broken itself, but he hadn't returned to his normal age. His memories were jumbled, and he was very quiet. He refused to see Bruce, which didn't surprise most of them.

Things around him were malfunctioning, which was why he couldn't stay at the Watchtower any longer.

All the test results were positive. His organs were intact, there was no trace of Lazarus in his blood, and his eyes had returned to their original blue color, though a different shade.

His arm was fine. He seemed to remember them and didn't understand why he had reacted that way.

He didn't want to see Bruce or Alfred.

He preferred to be locked in Dick's room rather than his own, even if he spent his time looking out the window. Of course, he removed anything that could be used to monitor him, opting instead for a baby monitor and a walkie-talkie.

They weren't talking about the possibility of him staying like this, that he would have to grow up again because they didn't want to use magic again.

"Hey Jay," Dick entered his room, carrying food on a tray. His brother was curled up in a ball, covered by one of the blankets, by the window, his reflection gazing at the mansion grounds. "I brought something to eat."

Jason barely moved, but continued staring out the window, unsure what to say.

“Why did you give me all those chances? I’d never be the same, I changed, I didn’t even think I’d make it to 24,” I ask, looking at him in the window’s reflection, just hugging my knees to my chest.

“Because we’re a family, because we love you,” he replies, unsure whether to move closer or not.

“This isn’t a family, we shouldn’t be a family, it hurts us, we don’t trust anyone.”

“We trust what matters, I trust you with my life, we fight back to back… don’t you trust me?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it trust,” he admitted, shrinking back slightly. “I know you’ll do the right thing, you’ll save everyone even if they don’t deserve it, but you can never beat time, Dickie… I’ve never hated Bruce for not arriving on time, even if you didn’t arrive on time I wouldn’t even blame you… but now I don’t even know if they’d be looking for me or if I wanted them to,” he confessed.

“I’m sorry, I really want to show you that you believe we love you.”

“You don’t trust us either,” he said, not accusingly, but almost sadly. “You entrust your life to us out there, but you don’t trust us to hold you when something hurts you. Nobody trusts anyone, not in the way that matters.”

“I know you’re scared, I know everything looks bad, but we’ll be here, we won’t leave you alone,” he promised.

Jason turned to look at him. He didn’t have that annoyed expression; he actually seemed devastated in such a sincere way, without hiding it. His brother was so expressive, that’s why he wore a helmet. “And when Bruce kills me again…?”

“What?” The question caught him off guard.

“I didn’t survive, Dick. When he cut my throat, I… I couldn’t do anything. I bled out before I could even get to the first aid kit. I died. He killed me.”

“Jason…” He didn’t even try to say anything in Bruce’s defense. He’d just been denying it, grateful that Jason had survived because sometimes he didn’t know what to do with Bruce.

“I don’t want to stay anymore,” he admitted.

“Why did you stay?” It was his turn to ask. His brother looked more agitated, trying not to cry.

“Because I wanted a family,” he admitted. “Because you cared about us, because you killed the Joker for what he did to me.”

“How did you know that?” He had never told Jason, he didn't really think Tim would tell him, and he hadn't said anything before.

"I heard it from Tim. I don't remember who he was telling at that moment, but I remember I started answering your messages. I… I know Tim has a plan, but Bruce is in his way."

It wasn't that Dick didn't know about this plan with Barbara; he sometimes thought about it when he allowed himself to.

"I don't want to try to make people choose anymore, so I stayed, but it feels like torture," he confessed, his lip trembling. He bit it, trying to resist.

He approached more carefully, his heart breaking. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. We'll leave. You don't have to be near Bruce, near this. I shouldn't have dragged you here." This time he hugged him.

They hugged like that, without speaking of the tears between them.

Leaving had been more difficult, but not impossible, not when it was clear there was no more trace of Lazarus Water in Jason, there wouldn't be another miracle, there wasn't another chance.

They would stay in Tim's place for now.

"I don't think I'll ever deserve you, Tim," he blurted out suddenly, placing a plate of food in front of his brother.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, still sleepy.

"It's okay if you hate us or want to keep your distance. I think we've hurt each other too much," he said with an odd calm that made Tim look at him. "I'm glad we could never kill you. You didn't deserve it. You're great, Tim."

"What was that?" he asked, confused and suspicious, but Jason brushed him off, going back to the kitchen.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Timmy."

It was easier to escape from Tim's place, not only because Tim was sleeping longer than he seemed to, but also because it happened just as Dick had left. He had enough cash, but he needed to move to some precarious hiding place near the Lazarus Pit beneath the city.

That was the only difficult part.

He wrote a note, saying he just needed time.

Although no one could have imagined how literal that was.

Meanwhile, he had started stealing technology, not the obvious stuff, but gathering everything, assembling what he needed day by day, one more piece, even though it was difficult being alone.

In the end, he admitted he couldn't do it alone and had to leave the city to find at least one ally.

Roy was the obvious choice; he knew they would look for him first, which is why he didn't call him. In fact, he hoped he wouldn't have to call him and ruin things.

Roy wasn't Tucker, and Tucker wasn't Roy.

That was good, a consolation. There was no comparison between them, and he liked that more than he wanted to admit.

Besides, Roy knew about the All-blades, he knew he couldn't be mind-controlled, he knew few spells could be used against him, and he suspected that was what ruined the spell.

"Jaybird?" he asked, confused more by his appearance because he had that smug look on his face. It was only a matter of time before he showed up at his door.

"Can you help me with something?"

"You know, it's really rare to hear you be so clear when asking for help, so it must be even more serious than I thought."

"How about eliminating a bunch of dimensional Karens for the throne of a magical kingdom?"

"I'll call Kori," he smiled, letting him into the apartment.

One phone call, four hours later, some pizza boxes, help with math homework for Lian, and the secret was out.

Somehow, Kori seemed enthusiastic. Roy didn't know if this was the craziest thing he'd ever heard or if Jason could actually bring them something even crazier.

“That explains why you’re acting different from your usual nervous self,” Kori said. “What do you need?”

“How do we beat those all-seeing eyes?” Roy asked.

“They can never really see me properly. Nothing is clear. Every touch I make, every breath I take, I’m ‘ruining’ what should happen. But they’ve been using the people around me to find out. I have a simpler idea about it.”

___________________

It was the 47th day since Jason had been bewitched. They hadn't seen him until now; he hadn't grown at all.

He didn't even seem bothered.

"Jason!" Dick blurted out, going over to his brother, a little surprised that he accepted the hug and sought that contact when he leaned towards him.

"I needed to think," was all he replied, letting out a big sigh.

"I know, but could you answer some messages?" he asked, enjoying the moment.

"Hey," was Tim's short greeting, landing nearby and walking towards them.

"Timantha."

"What a horrible name," he complained, a little more relaxed seeing his brother.

"It's better than Timotha," he laughed.

Things had gone well that night. Jason had even suggested going to the mansion, which was already a little suspicious, but he seemed so calm about it.

Cass looked at him as they were going to bed after patrols.

“Are you planning something?”

“I want to save someone,” he replied. “That’s why I came, to ask for help. I want to tell you, although I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

“Who do you want to help? Is it urgent?” she asked, much more interested, glad that he wanted to ask for help and curious about what Jason had gotten himself into.

“It can wait until everyone is asleep, at least tonight. I have to think about how to say it. Sleep well, Cass.”

“Rest,” she smiled, a little calmer, looking at her now little brother.

They realized later at lunch that Jason wasn’t there. Again, a note on his nightstand and a promise that even if he died, he would still return.

He had taken the plane, along with many other things. The control panel was smashed in a way that made no sense; it didn't even raise any alarms.

"He said he had to go save someone and would tell us soon," Cass said angrily. "He said he'd ask us for help."

"Maybe he was going to," Steph consoled him, "but when he got here and thought about it, he must have changed his mind."

"The question is, who did he want to save?" Bruce asked.

"I don't know, but I don't understand what he did with the computer. It's ruined, but I don't know how he did it," Tim complained. "I can't track him. I don't know where he went."

"This doesn't make any sense," Duke complained.

"It's Jason. It doesn't really make sense until he wants to give you the clue so you can have it," Dick sighed.

They were all confused about what had happened, taking stock of the things he had taken. Curiously, he hadn't even taken his old equipment, nothing. Their shelters were still the same.

_________________________

With his treasure successfully stolen, he knew he was confusing his family.

He really was going to trust them, he really was going to, but thinking about it more… he didn't want to risk them, nor did he want to risk Roy and Kori, so he had set rules that they readily accepted.

The truth is, when he's with his family, he feels useless; next to them, he's just reckless, violent, sometimes stupid.

He gathers a bunch of geniuses and prodigies, and they'll always find a way to make one of them look stupid.

He was a prodigy, not only a master of weapons but also a gymnast; with his muscle mass, it shouldn't be possible—just look at Bruce.

He was a detective.

He had more heart than people gave him credit for.

Next to Nightwing, Red Robin, and Black Bat, he wasn't much, just a trigger-happy cop.

Against the attitude of Dick, Steph, Duke, and Damian, he couldn't do anything. In his family of geniuses and prodigies, he was flawed.

On any other team, with anyone else, he was incredibly competent.

It wasn't even ego; it was that he wanted to prove he could do it, that it would work out, that he wasn't the weak link.

His emotions weren't a mistake, his personality wasn't a mistake, there was nothing wrong with how he fought for what mattered to him, with how willing he was to do things.

Two lives like that, willing to fight even without a plan to guarantee victory.

Two lives being a hero and then surviving.

Danny Fenton will always die.

Jason Todd's death was a cosmic mistake, but also a constant.

Phantom is an anomaly, a prophesied hero, the one who defeated the tyrant.

A future king.

Born to protect and die to reign.

Not balance; he couldn't reign that way, but he doesn't need to, not if he plays his cards right.

When he arrived at his makeshift hideout, Roy and Kori had already left what they'd found, and now, in an old Lex Luthor lab, he was going to put his own plan into action.

To keep his family from finding him, he planned an escape from Arkham Asylum, putting the Joker on a plane and making everyone think he was returning to Ethiopia. The Joker wouldn't be able to resist and would have to be looking for him there.

The perfect bait.

He had only a few days before the date the spell was originally supposed to be broken and a lot of work ahead of him.

Amanda Waller was crazy, but she was more useful than she realized.

“Well, this is going to be awful,” he complained with a smile.

____________

The Arkham escape distracts them not only because the computer is still useless, of course, but also because it takes them longer to find the Joker until one of Tim's overseas contacts tells him that the Joker is in Africa, specifically Ethiopia.

"What is he doing?" was the question they all asked themselves after almost three days of chasing down the escapees. With the new information about the Joker, it seemed obvious: recreate Ethiopia. One more test, but for whom?

Dick looked at Tim's conspiracy board. A lot of things about this didn't feel right. Cass's words kept echoing in his mind. Jason wanted to save someone. He wanted everyone's help to save someone. He hadn't even taken any of his weapons, his suit, anything. He steals the Batplane, causes a breakout from Arkham, the Joker is in Ethiopia.

It was such an obvious distraction that his brothers were seeing it too, but Bruce wasn't; they couldn't afford to doubt this.

Was Jason lying about saving someone, or was he telling the truth?

Jason had told him he didn't want to make people choose anymore. He wanted to save someone. He tried to trust them to save someone, but when he got to the mansion, being there made him doubt himself, and he preferred to do it alone.

Tim had confessed that Jason had apologized before escaping the first time; it sounded like a goodbye.

Damian had found a book of poems as a gift, Duke a graduation cap for when he graduated. Steph had a small lifetime voucher for instant mashed potato packets. He had been honest with Cass and with him. It seemed he'd been preparing to say goodbye; his note said that if he died, he'd come back to life, as if he were talking about a haircut rather than being resurrected.

Bruce wouldn't listen to them because 15-year-old Jason, missing in Ethiopia where the Joker was, was the best distraction he could muster.

Jason was distracting them from something.

But what?

He'd been keeping an eye on Roy because he knew Jason would look for him eventually. He was right; Roy had disappeared with Kori a few times, and now he was in Bludhaven, apparently.

But they couldn't take any chances, so they split up to search Ethiopia while the rest stayed in Gotham investigating.

Tim pulled another Batplane out of thin air—because of course he had one; his own Batmobile hadn't been enough. Bruce didn't even complain about it.

“Okay, listen, when Jason ruined the computer, he didn't just ruin that, he also ruined part of the Z-tube system and the communications. You never answer your damn phone.”

A terrible habit, he can say that despite the trauma, but it doesn't stop Tim. “Sorry, I didn't actually hear it.”

“Well, there was an alert. They've been trying to call Bruce from the Watchtower. They're really busy with the problem. Anyway, someone stole treasure on Themyscira. Somehow, someone got onto the island, broke into a vault, and took an object. They didn't realize it was missing until a day later. They took longer to raise the alarm, but with what Jason did, they haven't been able to call Bruce. Cassie came by to ask if they needed help.”

“Okay, what are you thinking?”

“The Batplane has a shield that makes it undetectable as an enemy if it approaches the island. At a certain distance, it could submerge. You could swim in, although you'd need to know where the object is, but in theory, you could get in with the Batplane.”

“The question is, why would Jason do that? What does the object do?” he asked, confused.

“It can be used for rituals. One of those rituals could be bringing a god to this plane.”

“That doesn't explain why Jason would use it. If it could be used to return him to normal, they would have told us. And it doesn't explain how Jason would know about it or where it was.”

“That's the part I haven't gotten to yet, but I have a record of some purchases made with one of Bruce's credit cards in Star City. Cameras and everything. It's Roy, Lian, and Kori.”

“Okay, what's so strange about that?”

“Among the clothes, shoes, a whole wardrobe, there are clothes that don't match, clothes that don't seem like Jason's. They're more like something a grandfather would wear, the kind of clothes you'd think a grandfather would wear. Other clothes are clearly for adult Jason; he has more variety than before. There are clothes that don't make sense. It's already a little strange that Roy has one of Bruce's cards, but he would use it if Jason had asked him to.”

“Everything is very strange. We haven't had any luck on this side,” he explained, having given up on catching Bruce.

“Look, I'm fed up with the Joker, so I'm going to solve this. Just give me 30 more minutes.”

“Okay, be careful.” Tim didn't say anything else, and their communications were cut off.

Sometimes Tim's hunches about something were right, even if they didn't make sense; they were missing pieces of the puzzle.

He knew that until Tim knew if his hunch was correct, he wouldn't tell Bruce, because they didn't need that mindset right now.

Twenty-five minutes later, Tim had caught a furious Joker who hadn't found Jason and was also chasing him, trying to find him before Batman.

Now that he was locked up, they had to figure out if there was a clue or anything that would tell them where Jason was or why he had done this.

________________

Things were ready. It was a pain that one had to wait for things like this, but he bet Clockwork didn't suspect his plan, at least not his part of it.

No one would expect him to be under Arkham; his family would never look for him here! The best/worst hiding place in the world. Any anomaly would be mistaken for the work of some rogue; the place was so cursed that no one would detect it until it was too late.

Amanda Waller didn't disappoint him with her Batman clone, even if it was more of a Thomas Wayne clone than a Bruce Wayne clone. He really wanted to have a word with Clockwork for choosing this body.

His body was now in the circle, the treasure activated, the items gathered, and he uttered his own prayer—one Clockwork had given him long ago, like a speed dial—his blood, and he begged that it would truly work.

Roy and Kori were waiting a few floors above. For a moment, he panicked because Tim had brought the Joker here with Superboy's help, but he still hadn't figured out what was right there.

Well, when everything went to hell, the Joker could finally die.

His body ached, it changed; 54 days had finally passed. The magic of time surrounded the room. It was good to have clothes, just in case this worked.

When he opened his eyes again, not only had the ritual worked, but he no longer felt so much pain, although he must have fainted for a few moments.

Clockwork was looking at him from his new mortal body. Both his eyes were fine; nothing suggested he had power. He wasn't a god yet.

He didn't need a god.

The circle went dark; he didn't have much time, which was so ironic.

"Daniel," he called, with such longing and happiness that he felt a knot loosen inside him.

"Hello, Clockwork, I'm so glad to see you," he said, helping him out of the circle. Although he too felt a little weak moving, he didn't let that stop him.

They shared a hug that he wished would last longer.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you more, Daniel."

"Do you trust me?" he asked, because he could do this by force. He hoped not.

"Yes," Clockwork hadn't assembled it yet.

The observers and a few others will always be watching Clockwork, because they too could see what Clockwork saw.

Danny Phantom ruins it simply by existing, free from fate.

To free the ancient being from time, it was necessary to destroy him, break him. They had mocked this. Clockwork was willing to cease to exist if it ensured his safety; some other ancient being would be born and take his place.

There was another way to break and destroy time.

"Roy, now," he called into a walkie-talkie.

Of course, the portal didn't work, but he had power now.

"Fine, time to die, for the sixth time, shit."

So he ran, with Clockwork on his back. What time and observers witnessed were variations of Danny re-entering the portal. In some versions, he carries Clockwork and sets him down before entering; in most, he simply leaves him there in the circle so that the energy released when the portal activates will provide him with enough power. In other visions, the portal isn't even beneath Arkham.

Jason ran with Clockwork on his back, not letting him go. He went straight in, almost throwing them both inside, grabbing his hand so they could both touch the power button.

Clockwork's incredulous look when he realized what he was doing elicited a hysterical laugh that quickly turned into a scream.

He was grateful he'd worn the clothes he wanted and had chosen something similar to what Clockwork wore.

____________________

The power went out across almost half the city, and then, a few minutes later, Arkham Island suddenly imploded upon itself, causing a tremor—or perhaps the tremor came first, as it was once again the epicenter of an earthquake.

By the time they arrived, there was no building left to save or person to rescue. The earth had collapsed, the water churned, there was nothing to be done.

However, the immense magical power that shot out like a shockwave let them know it wasn't an earthquake.

The Justice League arrived soon after.

"The artifact was used, but there's no god," said Wonder Woman.

"I see the bodies, but there's no one alive. There's a lot of rubble, but I can pull some bodies out," reported Superman using his X-ray vision.

"Bruce, are you alright?" Diana asked when she saw him. He was silent, staring at where the island should have been. He must have felt like a defeat. It couldn't even be Jason's fault because it didn't make sense. He couldn't think of anything that would have caused Jason to steal the artifact to use it. He shouldn't be here, even though his paternal instincts told him it was all Jason's doing.

Her phone vibrated. She pulled it out to look at it because she wanted to think about something else.

It was a message from Jason: coordinates and a smiley face that felt intimidating for some reason.

He looked again at where the island should be; it wasn't even disappointment or helplessness, it didn't feel like a failure, just something strange.

He decided to just sit on the edge of the roof, looking at the mess he was trying to coordinate.

"My children will be my downfall."

____________________

It takes them a whole damn week to follow all the clues. They go back to damn Ethiopia, then to Gotham, then they end up through a secret passage descending directly down a curve until they reach another, larger cave where the remains of the Batplane are located, along with the structure of some machine. The water surrounding it must be where the city gets its water from.

“I want to know how the hell he managed to get the Batplane here?!” Tim exclaimed. “And what the hell did he do to it?!”

“I really want to know how and why it was here,” Dick said, still quite lost in the situation, looking around where Bruce had noticed a suitcase.

The suitcase was a protective case. Inside, there was an old laptop, blueprints, notes, and a USB drive with a smiley face drawn on it.

When he turned on the laptop, the desktop displayed a black background with a stylized letter “D” and the Red Hood symbol.

He clicked on the first folder that said “clock tower.” Although it didn't show him Barbara's tower, it looked like a code and sigils; there was a note at the beginning of the document: “Run the program on the ship… Batship? Activate the shield, leave the autopilot on.Arrive, don't touch any damn clocks, seriously, don't touch any clocks, go up the tower, second room on the right.Don't touch anything except these, don't lose them, don't give them to anyone, hide them.”There was an image of a drawing of something that looked like a gear.

He left that folder and opened another one that said “fortress.” “Don't touch the sword, don't take the sword out of the pumpkin. And nobody touch that stupid coffin! We don't need a universe-collapse situation!”

Another folder contained what appeared to be photographs of some creatures, along with files about them.

There was one called “Far Frozen.” If things didn't go as planned, I'll do everything I can to get here. It's very likely the situation will be a disaster because, come on, how am I going to win?

It doesn't matter, this time I'll do it right. Things will turn out alright, even if I get hurt, as long as there's something left of me.

Don't arrive hostile. They are allies, they are more than allies.

At first, they will see the Batship and think they are invaders, but when you lower the shield, you must activate the speakers and say the following code. They will know you come from me, that you are not enemies, and I hope no one reacts badly to them because I'll kick someone if they hurt their feelings!

Look for Chief Frostbite.

If for any reason you are injured, you can trust them. They will help. Frostbite can explain, but you should only go if there is no one in the clock tower.

Tim had picked up the blueprints and was looking at them.

“This looks like a portal, but I don’t understand why they’re building it here,” he complained. “He printed them, but made some notes over them.”

“Look” Steph pointed to a section of the blueprints. “Save Danny.”

“Who’s Danny? Couldn’t Jason have made it clearer?” Tim was very exasperated by all the back and forth.

Bruce took the flash drive, plugged it in, and found the original blueprints. There was also a folder with a video.

The camera showed a red-haired teenager who looked tired; there were some scratches on her face, and her eyes appeared red from crying.

"Okay, I can't postpone it any longer. There's no time. You'd think that when you know time, you'd have time, but it seems we don't have any of that."

Her children approached to watch the video.

"We're going to save you, okay, little brother?" We have so many plans, it will work out. I'm so sorry, Danny. I know you don't want to hear it anymore. I know you say it's not my fault, but I'm your older sister. I shouldn't have fooled myself like that. I wanted to believe that they wouldn't hurt you, that when they saw the truth they would stop because they loved us. I think it would have been easier if they had hated us. - She tried in vain to hold back her tears - No matter how much our parents loved us, they couldn't understand. They were so blind, so stupid. They're so intelligent, but even more stupid, proud. They couldn't see the truth even though it was right there in front of them. They're crazy. No, saying they're crazy is giving them an excuse. They knew what they were doing. They hurt you because they chose to, saying they loved you, that they were doing it for your own good. And I knew we had lost them, and I didn't take you out of there because they loved us. It's pointless now, isn't it? But I still wanted to say it because you deserve an apology.” He took a deep breath. “We’re going to save you. We’ll get you out of there. You won’t even have to see this, but… just in case, just in case.”

The words were heavy. He wiped away his tears and tried to smile. “I want you to know that I love you, little brother. I love you. I’m so glad you were my brother. Despite all the problems you went through, you’re a hero. Always. You’re good no matter what. No matter what happens, remember that you’re loved. All of us are coming for you. Even if we never see each other again, help will come. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. We didn’t ask for this. One of us will stay behind to gather more help. We’re on our way. I love you, little brother. Remember that. You’ll always be loved, the most loved.”

“What the hell did you get yourself into, Jason?” Steph murmured.

They remained silent for a few seconds. Bruce opened another file, a shorter video. A young African American wearing a red beret also appeared. He looked very tired.

"Okay, I don't know who's watching this because there aren't many of us, and only Estrella and Paulina are staying. It's surprising Sam agreed to let Paulina keep this, but Mr. Lancer wasn't going to let us go on our own." He snorted. "Fine, whoever you are, I hope you know shit about mechanics, programming, and engineering because this is crazy. I left Danny's improved plans for the portal and the ship because we're obviously taking the original, but the one you build will be better—well, that's assuming you get better materials. What you need to know about the portal is this: don't turn it on with anyone inside. No, I know you're looking at me like I'm crazy for stating the obvious, but we wouldn't be in this situation if the first portal hadn't had the power button inside. When you turn it on, you'll have to move away so the radiation can't mess you up. The improved plans are Danny's, although I hope no one has to follow us around and put all this together. Okay, calm down, Tucker. We'll have to destroy the portal once we're done. Let's go, it's best if no portal is left open. I hope the explosion isn't too big. Once they open the portal, they should have a way out. Anyway, there's a biometric lock to keep it closed until someone returns."

“Well, we possibly have the ones responsible for the explosion, but that doesn't explain why we should build the portal here if we have to destroy it,” Dick commented. “It wouldn't give us time to get out.”

“There's a note about it,” Damian commented. “It will fix the problem, that's what it says.”

“Well, we'll have to finish building and rescue Jason and those kids,” Steph sighed.

The construction of the portal and the ship doesn't take them too long, not all of them. There are some setbacks, such as not being able to use more modern materials. Then one day, the water in the cave's pond glows like Lazarus water. They see a crack open underwater for a few minutes, which contaminates all the water, and then they see the crack close. Some of the water goes to the city… the city's bottled water.

Although the water never heats up or becomes like the Lazarus Pits on Nanda Parbat, after a week the water is clean again, and two days later another crack opens. This led them to conclude that Jason had chosen the cave because the rift opened there, and the dimensional or supernatural veil was thinner.

The batplane, or what remains of it (since many parts have been taken, possibly for the first portal), is ready, although they still don't know how 15-year-old Jason managed to get it there. They have many doubts because Jason wouldn't let the children go with him. If the information reached Jason, it's even more confusing because how and why?

In the end, they build everything. The stolen object from Themyscira is returned anonymously, with a small apology note for taking it without asking, which only makes everything more confusing.

Normally Bruce would have had someone check what they were building, but with the premise that Jason could be in some other dimension without help at 15 years old, he doesn't even bother to call anyone; he's been building like a madman.

Following the instructions, Jason had built a fort because the cave, however extensive, had a small passage to follow. The battery was of Tamaranean origin; Dick connected it normally.

They would turn it on, secure it, and then call other people and go look for their lost bird.

From the shelter, with a device Jason had already built as a shield, the green glow made them suspicious, but if Jason was sure it would work, then so were they.

When they activated the controls, they felt the same energy wave as when Arkham sank.

The cave trembled. The smell of ozone, electricity, even magic hit them; the green light shone.

Lowering the shield and re-entering the cave, they saw the portal in all its supernatural and profane glory.

A green vortex; the Tamaranean battery didn't explode; the machine creaked. The green of the water reached the portal, purifying it. They waited, but no crack opened again underwater.

It was horrible to think that someone had once been inside a portal; a horrible way to die, without a doubt.

Communication was restored. Barbara reported there was no blackout; the tremor was slight, and everything was fine on the surface.

The green portal looked like a gateway to hell, although Bruce might say that gates to hell actually look different; the feeling was the same. Something deep inside them felt wrong, as if they had done something terrible.

Before they could move to close the portal to another world, something approached. Bruce barked the order to enter the ship, which had weapons and shields—the safe side.

They were ready to fight.

The ship that came out was white, or rather it used to be, it looked like a small submarine? old, he had many scratches, signs that he had gone through a lot.

It landed softly to the side, through the glass they could see Roy Harper and Kori driving.

Roy had a somewhat long beard, easily a few months old, neater than expected, winter clothes.

Starfire was just a little pale, also wearing a big winter sweater, and waved when she saw them.

The side of the ship had the black letter D, the same one they had seen on several things.

The hatch opened, Roy almost kissed the ground beneath his feet.

“solid land at last!” he exclaimed alone lying on the ground like a star with his belly to the ground of the cave

“It wasn't that bad” said Kori, peeking out from the door.

"It's solid! Firm! I won't fall through this earth!" He exclaimed, turning around so he could see her, although he was still lying like a starfish.

“No, I guess not” he nodded, he directed his gaze at them who were coming out of nowhere cautiously “I thought it would take them longer.”

“Kori, where is my brother?” Dick asked at the edge of his sanity.

“Oh, leave me awake.” He went back into the small ship. Seriously, it couldn't be so big that he needed to go in to look for someone. In any case, they could hear the Tamaranian princess. “Jason, we're here, let's wake up.”

"uh...are we there yet? Really?" That was Jason's voice, 24-year-old Jason, his voice sleepy and grumpy.

“Your family is outside, so yeah, I think Dick is about to faint.”

“Well, leave him on the floor, he probably needs to sleep too.”

“Batman is out there too,” she clarified.

“Ugh, well, I'm up, I didn't remember these damn uncomfortable bunk beds, I swear, they break my back, they make me want to take out my spine.”

“Please don't do it where I can see you.”

Finally there was Jason, peeking out from the door of the ship, his face still sleepy, bleary eyes, sweatpants and sweatshirt with gray slippers.

He was there, as if he hadn't scared them, 24 years old, back to normal although without white hair or green eyes. He got off the ship lazily.

Damian was the first of them all to move, hugging Jason who was surprised.

“you are stupid”

Seconds later he had all his siblings on top of him, knocked down on the ground, with complaints, the teary eyes of more than one that no one was mentioning.

Cass nudged him on the nose with her fingers, which shook him and made him grimace and pout.

“You should have taken us” he scolded softly, although now he could see the ship which illogically looked bigger inside, there was no one “did you save Danny?” I ask carefully

Roy and Kori had strange expressions, Kori moved allowing him to see a small box that was on a small table inside the ship.

Everyone moved to get back up, an awkward silence forming, Jason looked at the box.

“Actually I think it was a bit the other way around,” Roy said with a sad smile. “That brat saved us all a little in the universe and in any dimension.”

“And he Time broke, I want everyone to know that” Jason laughed as if he were proud of that particular achievement.

A green note appeared on Jason's face, out of nowhere, Jason didn't miss a beat looking at the paper, laughing, looking at the ceiling "come on, not even you expected that, it's a clean victory" a second note appeared "we all win"

The third note appeared right in front of him, he took it looking at it "yes, being alive sucks, but now you can eat, I think it's a good deal"

“what is happening?” Tim asked, fearing that everyone was going crazy.

“Ah, he's fighting with Thomas Wayne, it's better to leave it like that,” Roy reassured.

“I'm sorry?” Bruce exclaimed.

“Let's not talk about that, I want to see my daughter,” the red-haired man excused himself.

_______________

Getting the truth out of Jason was, as always, harder than pulling a tooth.

They had closed the portal, leaving the ships down there.

They let a few days pass, watching Jason who let himself be by his brothers.

He made obvious moves.

That made them end up in the same cemetery where Jason had been buried, just in a different section.

It was a mausoleum, the spaces were underground, no one prevented their passage but they saw Jason put small urns in the spaces of the niches.

They saw the engraved names and dates, they had not reached 20 years old, Valerie Gray, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, there were more people, all 17 or 18 years old. Jasmine Nightingale was the closest to 20 at 19 years old.

Until they saw the niche, the last one to be sealed, without an urn, there was an old toy rocket, Danny, 14 years old.

Jason Todd-Wayne, 15, a jar of marbles.

Our most beloved son, brother, great friend and hero.

Jason took the niche cover and put it in place, letting out a big sigh.

“I'm sorry you couldn't be saved in time,” Dick said carefully.

“At least he finally has a grave,” said Jason.

There was a silence between them, when another neon green note appeared, the small message said "you can tell them." Jason huffed taking the note.

“Come on, look at all the shit I went through for telling the truth, I thought you said I could never tell them” he complained to the air.

The next green note appeared

'You may never tell Bruce and Alfred, but they will stay'

“I don't want to make anyone else elected,” he replied tiredly, taking the note.

'it will be fun to keep the secret together, you can still have a family :)

“I don't know how you make a happy face look threatening, but you're just in a bad mood because you lost,” he complained.

'I don't know what you're talking about, dear' :)

“Okay, but if something goes wrong I'm going to remind everyone that you lost and you're a bad loser.”

'be good to your brothers, Daniel'

Jason just huffed again, they stood guard, prepared.

“I can explain it” he excused himself.

“Who are you and what did you do to our brother?” Dick asked.

"See? Now they think badly of me, how am I going to make them listen to me?" he complained on air “they never listen”

No new notes appeared.

Cass looked at Jason, how tired he seemed at the idea of starting another fight to get out of there, she left her posture, stood in front of everyone, "we'll listen to you first."

“Cass!” exclaimed Tim and Steph.

Cass looked at them all and they gave up although they still looked suspiciously at Jason who was surprised, now he seemed nervous.

“It's okay,” he scratched the back of his neck, thinking about how to say it. “The spell went wrong because I died in the cave, it made me remember before… I… I used to be Danny, reincarnating sucks.”

“How did you die in the cave?” dick protested

"You were reincarnated? Couldn't you have chosen something better than this?" Damian didn't seem impressed.

___________________

He noticed that his sons were taking more care of Jason, making jokes with each other, Jason to his credit took it all in by pouting or protesting that they were being mean to him.

Of course they didn't let Jason tell him what had happened, although he had done the necessary tests to make sure it was his son.

Dick told him that they already knew what had happened and that was enough, the trip had changed Jason, it had helped him be more at peace with himself.

Later they would tell him that it had happened but there was no risk, that he should let it be like this, even if Jason didn't return to the mansion, he wouldn't return to him, he was safe and he was closer to his other children.

"We take care of Jason, okay? That's what matters" is what Dick had said.

Yes, actually that's what matters, if your child was calmer, more at peace with himself and without isolating himself it was fine, it was fine that way as long as he could know that he was safe and happier.

So he decided to leave it at that, although he really wanted to know what had happened.

He only reached the mausoleum, the many niches with names unknown to him, young people.

The youngest was Danny, someone had drawn stars on the slab top.

Although I was really curious why he said “the destroyer of time” as an epithet.

He could wait for that mystery to be solved in a few years, if his other children knew it was fine.

He was glad that Arkham no longer existed, although he didn't say it out loud.

There was no reason to fight with his son anymore.

There was no longer any joker that would cause him suffering.

In reality, that gave him the power to open a new psychiatric center that he could fully finance, to give real help and prevent those who were placed there from never leaving.

A few months had already passed, the dark league was talking about a peace treaty and diplomatic relations between a new race, they were nervous but very happy that everything was going well.

They would have the monarch on a social visit, which allowed him to be present.

A portal opened, Zatanna and Captain Marvel came out, that nervousness in Marvel who smiled a lot trying to be serious.

A man came out, with the face of his father, Thomas Wayne, dressed in formal clothes, a scepter with a clock and a crown that seemed to be made of clock hands, one eye was red but the other was blue. Her long hair was styled in a ponytail and the strands in the front were a little gelled the way Alfred did.

Everyone could see him and the king looked specifically at him with a smile that for some reason made him feel like he was in trouble.

“uh…am I seeing right or is that Thomas Wayne?” Cyborg asked, who was also looking at him.

Thomas Wayne only smiled wider, giving him that look that Alfred also gave him, walking towards him, hugging him by the shoulders.

“You and I need to have a conversation about childcare, I want you to know that your mother also wants to have a little talk with you but that will be for later.”

He just nodded, that feeling of being in trouble paralyzed him, he looked at the others for silent help, he looked at Dick who was trying not to laugh, he waved, approaching

“I guess you know that Little Wing comes in a package” he commented with a smile.

"I wouldn't have thought it any other way, Richard, where is my son? He promised me good food."

“I called him, have fun with B in the meantime” he walked away happily leaving everyone even more confused.

“Nightwing…”

“Come on, Bruce,” Thomas insisted, guiding him through the watchtower as if he knew it.

“There are no names in the field,” he murmured, praying that someone would save him.

_______

“Well, everything is resolved,” said Roy after a good bath.

They were in the fortress, Jason's castle, who actually seemed very happy.

“It looks like you're happy to be 24 years old again,” Kori told him.

“Absolutely, going through damn adolescence once was enough, thank you,” he said.

“I'll catch up with you later Daniel” clockwork was still not adapting to being half human, he was even a little offended, he could have gone back to being a god but he can't deny that he would have seen that movement

“Actually there is one last thing” the horror knight appeared, he carried the crown and the ring in a display case

Without much ceremony Jason placed it on her head.

“You will be a good king, in a while” Clockwork looked proud, his voice was very different like the clone of Thomas Wayne and his ghost version

Kori, Roy and some ghosts who were there applauded, the horror knight seemed tired of Halfa.

Jason's smile was one of pure delight, which was a little strange in itself.

"Actually" he took the crown on his head "I, the ghost king Phantom accept my defeat in our single combat for the crown" he said confusing everyone in the room, the horror knight had given up, even Clockwork seemed confused

With pure joy he walked up to Clockwork and placed the crown on top of him "congratulations Dad! You're the new ghost king! Long live the king and the king is dead, whatever!"

Clockwork would have found that cute but to his horror the crown stayed on his head, changing from his son's crown of ice and stars to some kind of crown with clock hands and thorns.

Jason proceeded to laugh “I told you I would make you laugh like crazy at my nonsense!”

"I don't understand what just happened," the knight of terror admitted, but at this point he didn't care, "but the crown has accepted the change so I bow before you, your majesty, infinite and ancient king of time."

The other ghosts bowed, Roy and Kori didn't understand what had happened either but they imitated the gesture and Jason too in a more mocking way.

“what?” was the only thing he could ask

The fortress changed instantly, he knew that his lair had merged with the place, all the decoration changed, his clocks were on the walls

"We bet on the crown, remember? What wouldn't make you laugh like a lunatic?" Jason explained, admiring the place and then crossing his arms to look at it. "We won and lost the bet, you said it was totally valid as long as I said the words."

"...you beat me...losing? I lost and... I won?" He questioned, there was no logic, he was actually having a hard time remembering exactly when he said that, his human brain Halfa couldn't catch up with his extensive phantom memory.

“yep” the younger Halfa nodded “you are the new infinite king, since you are much older and wiser when new observers are formed you will be able to face them and since you are a halfa they will not be able to see everything you see, they cannot catch you again” he nodded satisfied

“But you, you are supposed to be King.”

“You know, all those prophecies said that the great period of prosperity was when a Halfa had the crown.”

Clockwork was stunned, watching his son downplay how things were supposed to be.

“from now on I will be the destroyer of time, or something like that, I like it, a little cheesy but very clear” he laughed harder at the totally offended expression of his half-ghost father

“You're a damn brat, why did I adopt you?” stammered in horror that the crown was still on his head

“It's a shame, you can't make me old again” Jason was having a lot of fun, it was funnier because being in Thomas Wayne's body he looked a lot like Bruce so in some way he was seeing Bruce's offended and distraught face, he was a winner no matter what.

____________________

Look, this is a self-contained one, it's the second one!

This is the third time I say that Danny and Jason are the same person but now as a reincarnation! How many modes can I use that are the same person? We'll find out as things occur to me.

Bruce is not told which Clockwork is not Thomas Wayne until Bruce retires as an old man, by which time he is too intimidated and is his fourth father. Alfred finds out on his own after a few more years because Clockwork knows things and likes to play pranks on the butler, he never tells Bruce because someone has to see his foolish son's face at least once in his life without it endangering his life.

The Justice League has the idea that Red Hood came up with a complicated and crazy plan to 1st get back to normal 2nd get adopted by Thomas Wayne to be mean to Bruce 3rd made him infinite king because why not? 4° he “destroyed” time, which they understand actually killed “chronos” and gave power to Thomas because “they were already there” all this to annoy Bruce.

Said king actually likes to be called your majesty, just to annoy and embarrass Bruce.

Everyone feels sorry for Bruce because he has been/and will be threatened many times with “your mother is watching you, you don't want me to bring her here, so behave.”

In reality, everyone fears/respects him, especially his little notes with smiley faces. Once someone got an angry face, it didn't go well.

Clockwork has a lot of fun scaring the Justice League

In fact they never tell the justice league the truth, it's the inside joke of all the Batkids, Roy, Kori and Clockwork.

So Clockwork spends a few years tormenting Bruce, which greatly improves Bruce's relationship with his children. Jason and Bruce are no longer father and son but there is no longer any bad blood between them, a lot has to do with the fact that there is no longer Arkham.

The Batkids get up to a lot of mischief having an ancient grandfather of time and infinite king.

Jason/Danny stays with the title of “the destroyer of time” it is the only title he likes, because he beat his ghost father, he will never let him forget it, Clockwork is a bad loser, Danny/Jason is not letting himself be fooled by Clockwork, he is very happy without being the ghost king, enjoying being the son of the ghost king, very happy with his freedom.

Clockwork and Roy are the only ones who can use the name “Daniel/Danny” with Jason, Roy edits Jason's name on his phone from Jaybird to “Janny” Why? Because that makes sense in my head, are they a couple? Not really, Danny/Jason love Roy platonically.

Originally the second portal was going to be made by Roy and Kori, but Jason changed his mind and took them with him, not that he left it for the Batfamily to help him, he planned to use the crack in the cave but never reveals it to the Batfamily. Imagine that even though the Batfamily are more people still had trouble building things because the instructions weren't as clear, it was because it wasn't meant for them to do so.

Since Jason's message still directed them elsewhere, he didn't think Tim was going to get fed up and cut the game, that's very villainous of him, to believe that he will have the heroes following his game when said heroes are his brothers and one of them gets annoyed with his nonsense.

It's something I wanted to say because Danny/Jason was tortured and dissected by his parents, parents that he loved and they loved him, the most tragic part of the matter is that he suffered all that because his parents loved him, they believed that they could save him, that they did it for his good and then in his name to avenge him. Then he recovered his memories while he was Jason seeing the same pattern, Bruce who tries to "save" him because he "loves" him, brothers who let everything go or normalize that it is his fault, that he has to be "saved"

This Danny/Jason believes that being reincarnated as Jason was a punishment, a form of torture, and how the half-dead, twice-revived teenager made him everyone's problem.

(actually he is being unfair because Clockwork has defects, he loves the ghost but said ghost has also forgotten that his son was half alive, he was a child and of course he would never want to be king, his greatest checkmate was making Clockwork infinite king, he beat the observers, his world, his brothers, Bruce and Clockwork)

Watch extra scene!

Danny had a hard time, it was easy to see, his studies were overwhelming him but he finally gave up, collapsing onto his pile of books after a small cry of exasperation.

"How am I supposed to be king? Really, there must be a way for me not to be," he complains again.

“Precisely because you don't want that power is why you will be good, Daniel,” he repeats, looking at his son with tenderness.

"That's ridiculous, what kind of cliché is that? Uhg! I can't even pass the lancer exams! How am I supposed to reign something infinite? That's crazy!"

“trust me, you will do fine, now relax a little”

“It's impossible,” he mutters with his face glued to his textbook, he even kicks under the big table.

He rarely allows himself to act like that now, not like a teenager anymore, a child maybe but it's not a tantrum, he just sighs.

The sounds of the various clocks downstairs relax him, ticking that seems uncoordinated at first but with the good humor of his protector there is a melody hidden there

So he turns to his new favorite hobby (he laughs at his own thinking) trying to make the old man laugh in the most scandalous way.

As frustrating and difficult as it is, he knows that one day he will achieve it.

“No matter how tender you are, Daniel, you know you won't be able to beat me, you keep losing,” he says, patting little Halfa's head with amused condescension.

“No, listen to me, let's make a bet Clockwork” he says with a big smile, he even extends his hand to close the deal “for the crown of infinite realms, one day I will win”

He denies, moved, but accepts, shakes the hand of his living son, “for the crown of the infinite realms one day I will win” he repeats.

Knowing that no matter how many crazy things, silly puns or situations Danny won't be able to make him lose his composure enough to make him laugh maniacally. Not so spontaneously.

Clockwork looks back, it was a damn clean victory, Daniel never said he would make him laugh with some joke. The joke was on him.

He lost and won because his son also remembered, remembered that 'day'

That quiet day, almost unimportant on the other days but he had kept his little star.

Something completely human.

It was a great play.

Well, at least his son learned to cook very well because having a human body is being quite an experience.

The end!

[lukyan-chan]

Jason:

All the father/ mother figures he has unconsciously collected:

Almost everyone under his command:

Gotham's "magical" clans under he's care:

Are we a joke to you?

Are we painted on the wall or something?

Do we exist for you?

________________________

I've been rewriting the third part of "What Have We Done?". Since I haven't finished it yet and I have no one to share the little things that amuse me with, Jason is always "nobody's son," even though many already consider him, in a way, their son.

In "What Have We Done?" we have Bruce, Alfred, Talia, Vlad, Clockwork, Pandora, Frostbite, the Infinite Realms, Lady Gotham, Ducra, the criminal organization under his command, a magical group whose name will always be a work in progress because we're not good at naming things, not to mention Willis and Catherine.

We always talk about Bruce's adoption problems, but we don't realize Jason's problem, although, in his defense, much of it is fannon with some cannon, and he doesn't even actively try to adopt every father/mother figure he meets.

Jason simply exists, sees, or is seen by some "adult" or "elderly" person who treats him well and takes him in.

Jason is an orange stray cat that half of DC had the bad idea of ​​feeding, and now everyone wants to claim him, but he won't let anyone take care of him anymore.

You let him into your house, but he doesn't understand that he can stay safely inside because some stupid human terrified him (yes, I'm talking to you, Bruce, you could have kept Lil Jay, but you didn't know how to take care of him, and now he's the distrustful, sad-faced cat). So he never feels completely comfortable; he's always running away, coming back, looking sad, but he bites at the slightest provocation.

[lukyan-chan]

What have we done? Part 2

The dysfunctional Batfamily, mention of non-consensual touching, Infinite Realms a little bit aware, that's my ridiculous attempt at supernatural horror, Danny considered the total destruction of the world for two minutes, DC means ignoring canon, so why am I starting this like it's AO3 tags? Again, this is very long, longer than the last one, much longer, not counting my notes. I don't speak English; it's me and the translator against the world.

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

He would have to distrust a stranger who is clearly manipulating me in some magical way or God knows how, especially when the stranger's eyes shine with that Lazarus green that torments me.

He should also be breathing, but something in his body has decided that function isn't urgent at the moment.

"What did you say your name was?"

“Danny, but they usually call me Phantom. There are a lot of things I should explain to you, but honestly, I just want to keep kissing you,” he admitted with a small smile, still staring at his fangs.

He bit his lip. “I’m heavily armed. If you try anything weird,” he tried to threaten, at least to maintain some semblance of appearances.

“Oh yeah,” Danny shifted, rubbing against him. They were both hard. He avoided gasping but looked at the mischievous, triumphant expression. “You’re very well armed.” He made another hip thrust, leaving him defenseless, but still refused to make a sound. “I’ll never do anything you don’t want. We should just talk.”

He remained silent for five embarrassing seconds. What he had rubbed against him was no small thing. “Yeah, we should talk…but…fuck it, just kiss me.”

He wasn’t thinking, and that was dangerous, but…but Danny smiled, and they kissed again.

They were both in another cafeteria; it was a given that he wouldn't go into the rest of he classes. Also, out of pride, he wasn't going to think about what they did in that broom closet other than kiss and bite each other… he felt like they sucked he soul and rationality dry, but he wasn't going to think about Danny's skillful mouth.

“I don’t know who the hell you really are,” he said, crossing her arms. He was betting on some magic from past lives.

“I know. If you had remembered me, you would have hit me for taking so long. I’m sorry.”

Yes, past lives. He knew it could happen, but honestly, it’s such a strange thing, even in the whole supernatural world. “So, past lives?”

"Not exactly." He stirred his coffee, suddenly feeling that he looked tired.

"How long…? When was the last time we saw each other?" He asked carefully. Danny looked at him, unsure of the feeling behind his gaze, whether it was pity or longing.

“262,941 days ago,” he replied.

“What?” Danny was even more surprised because Danny seemed genuinely serious about the number, and what a number it was!

“That’s 720 years, 4 months, and 19 days. For the first 50 years, I counted the hours, but they told me that was just torture, so sometimes I count the years, and when it’s a bad day, I count the days.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” Almost a thousand years, but what Danny was implying was what Danny thought it was.

“I’ve been waiting for you since you disappeared. You were there, and then you weren’t… you were nowhere to be seen.”

“Haven’t you aged, or is it just a disguise?” He asked, feeling uneasy, something twisting inside him.

“I’ve aged a bit, but overall I look like this,” he admitted. “You’ve grown up. The old you were adorable, shorter. I thought you couldn’t get any cuter, but you’re so attractive and handsome, you’re so beautiful.”

He knew he was blushing, he wanted to deny it, but again it seemed the other was holding back tears, his eyes were moist. “You really waited that long for me, did you even know I’d come back?”

“Existence has no meaning if you don’t exist. I would have preferred to cease to exist than to go on for one more second without you. I would have destroyed everything in my path… but they said you were somewhere, I just had to wait.”

“They? Who are they?”

There was a strange feeling, as if something had touched his soul, a caress, something, a sensation that made him jump out of his chair, something, something bigger than he could comprehend, something, not someone.

A touch that made everything around him feel unreal, as if suddenly everything lost dimension, depth, meaning, as if his eyes could see colors that didn't exist.

An imminent feeling of doom and at the same time like life itself.

He could almost feel himself starting to scream, that it was too much, he writhed, like his flesh rotting, his organs liquefying in his own stomach acid and his bones breaking to dust, his body wasn't real, he felt everything and nothing, infinity upon infinity.

Then everything returned to normal, in a second, in less than a blink, he wasn't screaming, he was still sitting, his body was his again, his skin, hair, flesh, his organs and his bones were still whole, the light, the colors, everything made sense.

That was hello.

A feeling of approval, a taste of the iron of blood and then something sweet on his tongue.

He understood that "they" were too vast, too complex for his mortal human brain to grasp… But they were familiar, like a fine veil that blended seamlessly with his existence.

"I missed you," he thinks, even if he doesn't understand it now.

Danny seems touched, like a distorted image in an old video, too static, but the eyes of the abyss are… they are Danny's eyes, like swirling greens, purples, blues, colors he can't name, beyond the universe, beyond life and death.

They are his husband's eyes.

They are the eyes that once stared back at him in the crystal of a watch.

His questions subside a little. Danny pushes a bit of cake into the abyss, a piece he doesn't know where it came from or when he ordered it, but he feels he needs something to eat, so he eats.

"This is good."

The pomegranate seeds taste sweet. He's sure it's a joke; they make him snort with amusement. So he carefully eats all 12 seeds, looking at the being sitting opposite him, not impulsively. but because his instinct told him it was the right thing to do, that it was fun.

Danny also ate 12 seeds. He realizes there were only 24, on a plate of cake that he's sure doesn't have that ingredient as decoration. The red velvet cake looks normal, and he's also sure they don't sell slices of cake at that café.

They finish it in silence, with a complicity that feels like home.

"Did I disappear, or did someone kidnap me?" he asks appropriately after eating pomegranate seeds from a plate that appeared out of nowhere.

"I'll say they wanted to get rid of you, using an excuse for when I discovered them—a test, which is ridiculous, but it seems that in the end, more than a test, it can be seen as an opportunity," he explains, not entirely satisfied but not angry.

"An opportunity for what? To prove what?"

“Their excuse is they wanted you to prove your worth, but they had no right to do that. They approved you. No one doubted you. Those idiots just wanted to take you away because you wouldn't let them get away with it.”

“Entitled people.”

“Yeah, Karen's.” He rolled his eyes.

“What kind of opportunity is this? Honestly, I haven't had a good time.” He would have preferred to stay dead, but maybe it wasn't wise to say that to the guy who'd been waiting for him for almost a thousand years.

“I don't know either. Character development? More trauma? Some lesson no one needs? You died and came back. Unfinished business, I guess?” He scoffed. “So what now? You're not going to tell me everything?”

“I think you can remember things on your own, so I’ll just tell you technical things. Telling you everything, even if it were the best, you wouldn’t accept it. It would be too easy, and you don’t like things being handed to you just like that—a little mystery for a reader,” he hummed. “I wouldn’t spoil it for you.”

“You bastard,” he laughed.

“I choose to take something good from this: that I can court you again, make you fall in love with me again.”

“I don’t think I’ll be the same person.”

“Your essence won’t change. You’re still you. No matter how many times you’re born, no matter who gives birth to you, you’re still you. You’re still my husband. Things have happened to you, and I’m not the same either. 720 years have passed for both of us, but I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll wait as long as it takes until you fall in love with me again.”

He was speechless. Such devotion, so readily given, so easily it seemed unreal, but he knew it: Danny was serious.

720 years have passed for both of them.

“Nothing guarantees that…I remember everything."

"I don't expect you to remember everything. You're alive. Your brain couldn't possibly catch up, but it's enough for me if you remember a little of us. I don't need everything, just what you can give me. I'll always treasure anything you want to give me."

"...Don't you love my old self?"

"The old you is in the past, it's smoke through my fingers. You're here now. The you of before won't return. I love you every day. I want to always get to know the you of today and tomorrow because we have time."

...

...Damn! This guy was serious!

Holy shit, this guy was real!

"...just one small question, Romeo." Danny just nodded, the image of a cute boy. "Do you have a job...rank...god?"

"King, High King."

"...Like the ruler of a magical kingdom, like fairies or something?"

"...I am the leader of all gods, past, present, and future, ancient beings, and any king.”

“Doesn’t that make you a god?” he asked, still confused.

“No, I wasn’t born a god. I was born human. I’m half-human.”

“How did you end up becoming the leader of everyone?” he questioned. Gods were one thing, but ancient beings, arcane, primordial gods, wouldn’t yield to a half-breed, a mortal. Danny smiled.

“Right of conquest. The previous king was a jerk no one could defeat. In fact, they had to seal him in a coffin for millennia until he finally broke free and I defeated him.” He excused himself as if it were nothing, but I had the impression it was much more than that.

“So if you’re defeated, you cease to be king?”

“Yes, but, ummm, I had a bit of a meltdown when I found out what happened to you. I don’t think anyone would even want to try a serious fight with me.”

Damn… (This is the perfect moment to hate the stupid impulse he had years ago regarding that sudden wave of supposedly dark fantasy books. He wanted period drama, a decent romance, or a good tragedy…unfortunately, he didn't find much of that, though he did find something else. No one had to know what kind of things he read; he read physical copies so he could hide the evidence. He couldn't live if Barbara or Bruce stumbled upon his guilty pleasure.)

“So you always look like this…?”

“I died at 14. I was somewhat malnourished, skinny, but I can change my appearance. The cultists won't take you seriously if you look like a child, but a little supernatural horror does the trick.”

Suddenly, he remembered the very long tongue that had surprised him in that broom closet.

Fuck, by all of Alfred's cookies, he was a monster fucker! Danny still looked like a cute young man, but just to provoke him, he opened his mouth—a small black abyss, though his fangs peeked out. That long tongue flicked a little, and then he closed his mouth again.

Holy shit!

He took his coffee, trying to drink it normally, but Danny just winked at him.

Suddenly, he felt like he was in one of those stupid novels where, apparently, in his past life, he was married to some supernatural creature—a vampire?—who had been waiting for him to be together again! And damn, he has a skilled mouth…he also has an impressive 'weapon' …He wants to make him fall in love with him again, right in his shitty life!

When did he sign up for this?

Ah, maybe it is dark fantasy because some kind of arcane entity said hello to him a while ago. Good.

Yeah, he's signing up for this right now. Hell, there was Easter eggs to the myth of Hades and Persephone with that stupid grenade.

But he has a feeling he won't regret this, that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

He ends up accepting a date in two days. Danny agrees not to exchange numbers because he doesn't want anyone to find out about this. Danny just seemed much more pleased for some reason.

What the hell is he doing?

But when he returns to his safe house, staring at the ceiling, he feels something whispering nearby, that whatever "they" is, is having fun, is happy.

He feels as if the abyss were a single eye, and it's behind him, but the worst part is that it doesn't terrify him as it should, as if being watched by this something were comforting.

He dreams of a skinny teenager, black hair, blue eyes, an ordinary high school student, but one who smiles at him while pointing to the sky.

He dreams of wearing a veil, of laughter and nonsense he hasn't experienced.

He dreams of death bowing before him.

He dreams of everything, and nothing makes sense when he wakes up and feels it slipping away from him again.

He tries to attend his few classes, but a classmate ends up delivering a photo and letter, and later Duke seems very happy delivering another envelope.

The handwriting is beautiful. The first letter is longing for him, words about long days of waiting, surviving on echoes of his love. The second asks about his day, as if it were a normal letter, and he ends up writing a reply, making an improvised envelope with another sheet of paper.

Duke seems to be taking his sudden new job as a messenger very seriously and generally doesn't know what he's doing. But he is…happy.

The memories come in fragments. Now the world seems more…colorful? The memories are almost always about Danny, mundane details, quiet days? Sometimes he just looks at something and a memory comes back, the sounds and the smells.

Hiding his identity as Red Hood is useless after two weeks. He never really tried; deep down, he knew it was pointless.

He stood there wanting to shoot the damn bastard, hating rubber bullets, suddenly feeling leashed, just as others had mocked him, emasculated by his family.

Danny appears, curious or indifferent, but he feels exposed… Danny hates guns… Danny didn't kill.

Suddenly he remembers that's what he liked about him, because there was something familiar about it, a Freudian load of crap!

"Why are you hesitating?" he asks.

Because my family doesn't kill, because I love my family, because I don't want to disappoint you too—he thinks.

The gun is gently taken from his hands; he feels his heart clench, that he's failed, that it will be the same as with his family. Danny doesn't kill.

The gun disappears in Danny's hand.

He wants to collapse right there. He's grateful he has his helmet on; the guy smiles, biting his tongue to keep from mocking him out loud, but his face says everything he feels.

“Here, this is better, darling.”

He blinks in confusion, looking at the gun Danny places in his hands, the same gun he himself fired right between the legs of the screaming man. He should be worried everyone will hear over the comms, but he's more surprised by what just happened.

“Not killing is a luxury I can afford because I'm rarely in a hurry for anyone to reach the realms, but I'm not a prude. It doesn't scare me. Death is rarely fair.”

The gun fires again, right near the heart, causing the man to gasp in pain. The gun is platinum-colored with red details and a stylized gold “R.” It feels light in his hand.

“The only ones who can judge you are the kingdoms and me. I’m terribly biased. You’re my favorite, cupcake,” he says, as if he feels tenderness for him. He floats until he can kiss his helmet where her lips should be, then pulls away, returning to the ground. “Come on, you still have to keep patrolling.”

“They’ll find me,” he stammers, lost, putting the safety on his weapon.

“They’re ice bullets. They’ll melt in five minutes. No one will know it was you.”

“Are you really okay with this?”

“Jason, you’re Red Hood. You turned the alias of a vile creature into a name that people can feel safe and hopeful about. You protect your people. You’re their protector, so you’re free to choose how you do it.”

“…What does the ‘R’ stand for?”

“Here’s the other one,” he says, pulling out another gun out of nowhere, just like it, only this time the details are gold and the letter 'H' is red, opposite the one he’s already holding. “I worked on different types of bullets.”

“You don’t do hero work anymore,” Danny hums, not knowing why he’s so sure.

“No, not anymore, but I’m just taking a walk with the man I like, although I know someone who might want to join you for a bit.”

No one finds out who he killed. The two guns don’t feel physically heavy in his hands, but for some reason, it feels like freedom.

He knows who they are just by looking at them, now that he’s remembered more things, more fragments that are starting to make sense.

They look the same as they did back then.

Sam, above all, looks so alive that for a moment it surprises him (she had been the first to die after Danny, it was in the middle of a protest that got out of control, an officer fired, he remembers the funeral, he remembers Sam being outraged that there was a fuss about her death but not about another girl's, just because of her skin color, just because Sam was Caucasian and wealthy, he remembers Sam's mother who stopped wearing pastel dresses and wore purple and black in Sam's honor…he remembers hugging her because now she was dead, dead at 20).

Before, he was the shortest of the group except for Ellie. Tucker had grown, died of cancer at 48; the ectoplasm didn't alter his second gender, but it did affect his health.

Now he's taller than them.

He's alive.

They aren't.

"Dude, you're so tall!" Tucker blurted out in surprise

“What the hell are they feeding you here?! Danny, his thighs are bigger than your head!” Sam pointed.

“He can smash my head in whenever he wants, Sam, but you can keep coming after me.”

He felt herself blush and Sam laughed even though she was touching him.Tucker pokes his arm with his finger.

“Bro, you’re so muscular!” Tucker does the same as Sam, poking his arm with less embarrassment.

“I can carry all three of you,” he blurts out suddenly. For some reason, he’s nervous, he’s happy, it’s…it’s very strange because he feels like he knows them, that his comment isn’t weird. These used to be his friends, too.

Tucker studies business, Sam environmental science. He should keep her away from Poison Ivy, but actually, he wants to introduce them, he wants to hang out with them, he wants to see Valerie, Jazz, and Ellie.

His people have already seen him without his helmet. That little detail is something the Bats don’t know. No, they know they’ve seen him without his helmet, but they don’t know they’ve seen his face, without his dominoes, without his helmet, without his suit. His closest friends have seen him bleed, get angry, collapse. They’re loyal, so loyal that sometimes he doesn’t know why they stay.

In reality, many people know who Batman is because of him, but none of them have ever said a word. It's something his family will never understand, something Bruce and his brothers' paranoia will never truly allow them to believe.

Sam, Tucker, and Danny introduced themselves—not on the same night, not Danny, at least. They were also honest, something unusual that would make any Gotham resident nervous and suspicious.

Although honesty isn't a precise term, they told the truth, but left it up to each person to interpret it as they wished.

"We're ghosts," Sam blurted out without much fanfare. "Never ask a dead person how they died," he quickly warned.

"Boss, how did you drag two poor souls along?" Marlon, his accountant, didn't seem entirely surprised, as if this wasn't the craziest thing he'd ever dealt with.

"We're following him," Tucker clarified. "He was lost, and now we're not going to leave him alone because we're not going to lose sight of him."

“Like, haunted? Did you get lost…?” Jim doesn’t usually talk much, he really doesn’t, but now he seems overly curious.

“He was lost 720 years ago, now he’s alive, now we’re hunting him.” Sam isn’t fazed by the suspicion; they’ve stopped seeing each other as just college students. His demeanor is much friendlier than usual (it’s strange to think that way).

“Do dead people eat?” Kat, as always, worries about food and money, but she’s able to feed so many people with so little money, which is why she manages the budgets for the community kitchens they protect.

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“I’ll curse you if you give me a salad. Give me a steak.”

“At this rate, they’re going to think you’re Ivy’s long-lost daughter,” she complained, then remembered that Sam and Ivy’s mother’s name is ‘Pamela.’ That was a little awkward, but Kat had already filed that information away.

“Is this something like past lives?” Conrad seemed incredulous, as if this didn't excite him much, the damn gossip.

"Something like that," both ghosts said, amused.

Danny keeps appearing, walking beside him or in his office. Sam and Tucker greet him as if nothing's wrong. Only one of them asks if he's also bewitching him, to which Tucker blurts out something that makes everyone around him look at him strangely, but they no longer ask about Danny.

"Isn't there a secret identity to protect?" he asks, not even hiding his face, though he's sure it's not visible on camera.

"I aspire to be the boss's wife, what do you say?" he smiles, though he's blushing a greenish hue.

"Right now I really hate my helmet."

He now-boyfriend doesn't seem to mind. He floats up to give he a kiss where his mouth should be, a chaste kiss, and it just seems fun. He likes doing this, he realizes.

Not everything is good.

Sometimes it feels so unreal, as if his body is crumbling and crumpling like paper. These are the moments when he knows they are most attentive to him, as if they slowly want him to get used to them again.

They last for small eternities, very long seconds, leaving him exhausted, with a headache that then disappears in a few minutes.

Dreams of small fragments of memories bring more things.

There is a ghost that looks like Danny, in front of him, looking at him confused and smiling. He doesn't remember what he's talking about, but then he screams, he laments, he feels like dying, like going back to the Joker, to the explosion. He has no organs; he was dead, but he feels his lungs being crushed, his eardrums rupturing, and his bones fracturing. He feels like dying again with the smoke burning his throat.

He wakes up gasping, sweating cold, on the verge of screaming, he feels like he is dying.

That was Danny…he used to be Danny, he once was. But he wasn't anymore. He no longer exists.

They called him “Dan.” He was so big and tall, he seemed somewhere between offended and overly curious about him, he seemed to hate and desire him in equal measure.

He had appeared suddenly, attacked him, and he was locked in a small cage.

He remembers the oversized hands touching him with curiosity, almost shyly, something unexpected, a kiss that only hurt his lips… eyes that looked at him as if he were something to devour. (It brought back more memories than he wanted to admit, it made him hate the stupid Robin suit, the feeling of being exposed, too exposed)

He burned with rage, he preferred to burn alive than have some version of Danny look at him like that as if he were just a body to possess, even though he didn't even have a body, but the feeling of fear was there.

He can't stand it.

Danny looks at him as if he knows, even his sad face is nostalgic.

Remembering Dan is bad at first until more memories of wars surface, of battles with beings that make his head ache. He remembers the fear, he remembers looking at Danny, thinking that he's still somewhat alive and doesn't want him to die the rest of the way.

Dying completely will bring Dan back. That's not her boyfriend, that's not her husband. His scent is lost in the stale air of an explosion.

He wakes up feeling numb to death, patrolling, watching the children and his people. He has held small bodies, failing to protect them, gently taking the tiny souls, asking for forgiveness.

Being a vigilante was easy, being king was hard.

He used to hate the crown because it made Danny feel caged, like shackles, but they were together.

They had danced, sung, laughed, and were still laughing as they collapsed onto the large bed.

They had loved each other in that bed, slowly, because they had time. The scent of his alpha intoxicates him, drunk as the mark on his neck continues to bleed green, he sighs, his entire sensitive body touching the very soul of his now-husband, making him tremble easily, continuing to kiss without needing to breathe, continuing to fuck without rest.

They lost track of time, no one bothered them, no one said anything about that first “night” because her husband was still alive.

But there were rituals to follow.

There was no need for any special attire, but Clockwork and Pandora gifted each of them a cloak.

The dark blue cloak with the starry sky, from Time, for the Infinite King.

A red hood, threads treated with ambrosia and the blood of the gods, from Chaos.

The Abyss looked at them, judged them, and found them both worthy.

…

……

Now he realizes it makes sense, that being revived was an opportunity, not a test, but an opportunity.

He collapsed, laughing, crying, choking, breathing; his dreams would never come true.

It's undoubtedly the worst panic attack he's ever had. When he comes to, the hall is empty. Duke looks at him, worried but relieved that he's conscious again.

“There, have some water.”

He grunted, accepting the water bottle. He felt so exhausted. Danny came over, opening a small sandwich and handing him some tissues.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault. Emotions are like that,” his boyfriend reassured him. “Your well-being comes first, Starlight.”

“Danny’s right, it sucks, but it’s not your fault, Jason.” Duke also tried to calm him down, but for some reason, that made him want to cry more.

“Do you want us both to stay with you? Should we take you to your apartment? We can also stay here as long as you want.”

“I… I just need a moment longer. I can walk to my apartment.”

“I can take you.”

“You don’t have a car, Danny?” he said, but his boyfriend just smiled. Suddenly, he was being carried like a bride.

“I can take you,” he insisted.

“You can’t carry me like this all the way to my apartment!” He exclaimed, blushing, unsure how to position his arms because they were too big, but his boyfriend just looked satisfied.

"I can, you're light for me, I'm a meta by the way."

"As if it wasn't clear?! I'm heavy! What's wrong with you?!"

"Actually, it would be a really weird thing to see, but they'd be cute." Duke tried not to laugh; he was already thinking of him as his favorite brother, but not anymore! Forget it! Duke can go with the others too!

"I can walk by myself!"

He ends up in another apartment, not his, not Danny's, which he shares with Sam and Tucker. It's on the edge of Crime Alley. It's somewhat empty, but at least there's a couch that looks comfortable.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I could have walked away when we first saw each other. I should have been stronger and not started anything. I'd be sparing you from this," he admits. "It's too much."

"And you'd just watch silently until I die?" He frowns. It's not that he thinks he's going to get old; in his line of work, living is a luxury. He died because he was involved in this.

While he's started to remember a lot in this short time, they've also been talking a lot, not just about nonsense, but getting to know each other again. To be honest, he went from barely speaking to someone to being by their side, talking, connected for many hours a day during these three months. Now he's rarely alone for a few hours a day; even when he sleeps, he knows Danny is nearby.

At first, he thought Danny just didn't want to be a vigilante anymore because he had truly retired, but he realized that now it was because he couldn't stay put. He stayed on the sidelines, watching, letting him do his thing, but the tension always dropped when he got hurt.

The way Danny helped him was by making bullets or knocking people unconscious, hiding the bodies he left in his wake, and treating any wounds or bruises he got. He held back not only because he could kill effortlessly, but because he didn't want to take away his freedom, his choice.

Meeting Danny has been the best thing that's ever happened to him, but it also takes its toll. His brain can't keep up with so many memories, connect to the infinite realms, because he's just a Revenant. He's a little dead, but much more alive.

"But you would live."

"I've only been surviving. I don't know how to live... I'm learning to live because you're with me," he admits.

Before meeting him, it took him a long time to decide to go back to school because he thought it was pointless, selfish, a waste of time. While giving himself that chance made him feel better, it left him wondering if it was worth it.

Now it feels like a dream: being able to take a class together, have lunch together, go out together like normal people.

He talks to more people around him, he feels more... validated? Less useless, more alive, less of a monster. He doesn't feel like an imposter, a lie.

This is what he desired, the opportunity the infinite realms granted him… Even if it led to chaos.

He wanted to go to college, graduate, help out in the alley, he wanted to one day meet someone, for his family to love him, to be a hero… But he died.

He died after being beaten by the Joker while his mother smoked in a corner. He died, met Danny, and forgot his dreams, the hopes for the future he once had, the family he left behind and didn't want to look for because he didn't want to face… He resigned himself to the possibility that it was all a lie.

He made friends who became family, found a husband, a responsibility they shared… they had time, the dead have time.

He returned to life only to have his hopes shattered. There was another Robin, the Joker was still alive, and he was broken, a mistake.

He has made mistakes, hurt people he loved, burned bridges, saved lives, started to make a difference, and decided to be selfish, so he went back to school to graduate and go to university.

He draws his boyfriend, his former husband, to kiss him. It's slow, it's with the care and tenderness he thought he no longer possessed.

"I don't think I learned enough despite Desiree," he tells him. "Be careful what you wish for and all that." He kisses him again, pulls him close.

"Why do you say that?"

“Dying made all my dreams die with me. Dying brought me to you, gave me someone who would love me forever and ever, friends, a family… but I once wished for this.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wishing you could live again to fulfill your dreams,” he replied. He felt the cool touch of fingers stroking the hair near the nape of his neck, relaxing him.

“I dreamed of going to college, and now I’m doing it. I wanted to find someone to love. I wanted to be a hero and protect the people of Crime Alley.”

“Why do you seem so unhappy? You’re living your dreams, Jay.”

“Because I wanted my family, the ones I thought loved me. Sometimes I wished they could have met you, could have seen us, but I was too afraid of facing another outcome, so that’s why I never let anyone, not even you, find them… I wanted them with me too, like Jazz, Vlad, and Ellie. I wanted them to stay with us even after we died. Sometimes I thought about how well you and Dick would get along with your silly puns. I thought about Bruce enjoying Ellie’s nonsense, Alfred and Vlad sharing recipes, everyone, yours and mine…”

“Oh, Jason…”

“I got what I wanted, but that wish won’t survive because of my family, because they were never really mine.” We're not family. They didn't love me enough before, and they don't now. I don't want them to find you. I don't want them trying to become your friends and steal you away from me, even though I know you wouldn't leave me for them. I'm obsessed with them. I can't leave them behind despite everything we've done.

Bruce will never accept their methods. He won't accept Danny simply because he has power. Bruce never chose him.

No one ever does…

Only the dead choose.

All his siblings are so paranoid and distrustful. They're barely contaminated, but they'll die, and they won't be like Sam, Tucker, and Valerie.

At some point, he won't be able to hide Danny anymore. Then the harassment will begin. They'll think Danny is a civilian and try to keep them apart. They'll never let them be together because they don't trust him. Because to them, he's a monster, something that came back with the face and body of the boy they buried.

Because he's a disaster, and he ruins everything. He had everything and yet he kept wanting, dreaming, and it ended like this; he did this to himself.

“Do you want to live here with me?” The question pulled him from his spiral of thoughts, making him look back at his boyfriend.

“What?”

“To live together here, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

“Only if you don’t blame yourself for everything I’m remembering.”

“Okay.”

They needed each other more than they were admitting at that moment.

“What about the well? Has being with you ever really fixed the problem?” Another thing he pretended not to notice was that Danny’s closeness eased his problems with his ecto-contamination, which they didn’t talk about.

There are still things they don’t talk about, like the well, like the Joker, or the strange instincts he feels are there but controls… there are things he pretends not to see because it’s like an inside joke between them.

"It helps that you're close, but I wanted to do this faster."

"Okay." They fall silent. The apartment is empty; it needs decorating, to feel like home. It's soundproofed because you can barely hear anything from outside. He breathes calmly. "We'll sort it out later. Right now, I just want to hug you."

He didn't know what was in the small vials, one a day, preferably at the same time every day, but he knew they did more than just cure the well. In fact, there was a faster, somewhat extreme method to cure it, but where would the fun be in that?

As if he didn't notice, he took the first vial, feeling the relief over him…

Just like Danny pretended not to notice what he did in the castle to maintain order. Just like they didn't talk about his hands covered in the blood of the living and the remains of the dead… Because it was a game, a joke, like the pomegranates he fed him back then.

Like when they pretended to be careful having sex where someone might watch, but really wanted to be seen, to make them uncomfortable, to mark their territory in a way that was unnecessary. Danny always bit where his teeth mark should have been.

So he pretended he didn't know what the small vials were doing to his system. He continues eating 12 pomegranate seeds, staring directly at Danny, as if it were an inside joke between them.

They start living together, and he's grateful the apartment is soundproofed because the neighbors would complain a lot.

He makes a nest in the large bed that takes up almost the entire room, not even allowing himself to feel embarrassed; quite the opposite, in fact, now that he knows he's not being watched. Clockwork had said that once; if only he were alive, he would adapt if he lived in Danny's world, but just having him near was enough. Part of him wonders if it would truly be possible to give birth even in his world… (the idea excites him more than he's willing to admit; he loves them, he loves Danny's children. He's really going to defy the natural order of his world and give birth to his husband's children; it's just a matter of time, but first they'll finish college).

He won't let anyone stand in his way. He leaves the bad memories behind. The medication, the poison, helps him recover better from exhaustion, makes him feel better. He starts being stricter in the alley. His people accept the change. Sam and Tucker smile.

Almost seven months of their relationship feel so short, yet so much because of all the time they spend together. He doesn't need Bruce and his children. He spends as little time as possible with them, barely patrols with them, and they don't seem to notice, not if he stays in touch at night. He ignores them during the day, and everything works out fine.

The raids he participates in with some of them don't tire him; he doesn't even get angry anymore, not when their cold presence surrounds him, invisible yet beside him, calming him when they test his patience. They don't give Bruce a chance at anything; they finish the job, talk a little with their brothers, and leave, sometimes pretending they need something in their territory, other times genuinely having something to take care of.

School is going well.

Living the daytime life of a college student with friends and a partner is also going well. Duke covers for him; they talk, connect more, and try to help him more during the day with information he needs, supplies, and with his essays.

He goes on dates, laughs, smiles more, lives more (even when he knows that potion is simultaneously healing and killing him, bringing him closer to death). The bite marks heal faster; his eyes remain green, but sometimes in the right light they appear blue. He doesn't care.

Danny kills the Joker, and he really, really needs to have his children; he needs them yesterday.

The games officially begin.

This time, he's going to make the first move.

Early in the morning, taking advantage of the assembled press, he lets loose with everything he had prepared. He'll let it simmer for a while because he has to sleep with his husband for at least two whole days.

Their marriage certificate is in a beautiful frame, highly carved and decorated with gold leaf, very Gothic in style, courtesy of Sam.

Daniel P. Masters and Jason R. Masters.

He's very glad he put so much effort into regaining the beautiful handwriting that Alfred imposed on him when he arrived at the mansion. He's glad that Princess Dorothea insisted so much that Danny should improve his.

The certificate looks beautiful.

Their other papers are also ready. He has his birth certificate, with Sheila, two adoption certificates—the old one from when Bruce adopted him, the current one recognizing him as Talia Head's son, using Miller, which was Catherine's maiden name—even his death certificate. But now all his papers are in order; he's alive again, legally existing once more as Jason R. Masters.

His Gotham University diploma will say Jason R. Masters, his social security card, driver's license, even his library card—everything says Jason R. Masters.

He knows his siblings will complain when they find out the R stands for Robin.

Jason Robin Masters

Robin, prince and consort of His Majesty the High King Infinity, Phantom.

Robin.

He has been Robin for many years; he lived as Robin.

And he died being Robin. He is Robin.

It's his name, just as Phantom is Danny's name. He made it his own, unlike his brothers; he stole it from Dick (a part of him rejoices in having taken something from Bruce's golden boy. To own the name).

Dick may die tomorrow, but he will be remembered as Nightwing, the first Boy Wonder, the original, but one who left the name Robin behind. He will be Nightwing, not Robin, not again.

Damian will grow up; he will be Batman or use another name. Tim might change his name or keep it. Steph will be Spoiler or Batgirl.

But for everyone in the Infinite Realms, he is Robin, Prince Robin, not Jason. He is Robin.

He realized that he was the light of Gotham. Dick became Robin for the same reason Bruce became Batman: anger and vengeance. He was the true Robin, demented and angry.

Tim became Robin to keep Bruce sane. Damien is Robin, but he's Batman's son.

He doesn't know who Steph was, but she was a spark, she was a bit of what he was, she was emotion, she was almost magic.

He was Robin to help people; he was different from Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damien. Bruce, Damien, and Tim were born with privilege, money, and legacies. Robin gave him magic; magic didn't keep him alive, but it brought him luck in death.

He doesn't really feel like being nice to his family. He has a whole story prepared and is avoiding them. He's going to protect his marriage.

So he sends them a clear message about what they'll find if they dare come to his house.

"If any of you are thinking of coming to complain or bother me, you'll have to put up with me having sex with my husband. We're not going to stop. If you're so desperate to talk to me, then you'll have to put up with what I'm doing. That includes over the phone. Bruce already had to leave with his tail between his legs because I'm busy."

He bursts out laughing when a vomit emoji appears after Tim's message.

He wants to annoy them. He's wanted to annoy them more for a while now. Maybe it really is time to let loose, to move things in all his brothers' safe houses two inches to the left, ruin shampoo and conditioner, spill paint on their things—little pranks he's been wanting to pull for a while. He'll think about it later.

__________

Jason's message, what they found when they saw the images of Bruce's hood, left them…yes, they're not going anywhere, got it.

The problem arises when an interview is aired amidst the celebrations that the Joker is dead.

Jason is there, smiling, with some obvious hickeys deliberately poorly hidden on his neck, Danny by his side holding his hand in support. The questions are obviously scandalous because it's Vicki Vale.

The spotlight, the clothes, the cheerful expression make Jason look so young it surprises them, his Crime Alley accent undisguised.

"So Jason, what happened? Was it all a dramatic fake-out of your death?"

“No, actually, they did think I was dead, they just hadn't found my body.”

“But there's a death certificate, there was even an autopsy, and lots of rumors about the funeral.” Vicki seemed impatient and beaming with anticipation.

“I was there looking for my biological mother because my relationship with Bruce wasn't at its best. I didn't know Catherine wasn't really my mother, but with the adoption papers, Bruce did know. He knew my biological mother was alive and never told me. I felt betrayed,” he admits. “Some of what was said was true.”

“So, whose death certificate is it? Who had an autopsy?”

Jason took a few seconds to catch his breath, looked at Danny, who nodded, and then looked back at Vicky and then at the camera. “Robin. The boy who died that day was Robin.”

There was a moment of silence, everyone's expression one of genuine surprise.

“Robin? Why Robin? How?”

“Batman and Robin were looking for the Joker. Bruce left me with Sheila, and she had something to do with the Joker. We didn't know it. Batman ordered Robin to stay with us to protect us, then he left… Sheila tricked us both, insisting we had to move because there was something Robin needed to see. She owed the Joker money, and she had Bruce Wayne's adopted son and Robin. It was a trap.”

“My God…”

“I've felt guilty about it, even though my therapist has made me see that it wasn't my fault. It was all the Joker's fault. What happened inside that warehouse will always haunt me. Robin died a hero. He was a hero who followed the order to protect two people. He resisted and was so brave. He died a hero, but he was also a victim of the Joker. Sometimes I still hear his bones breaking. I hear the Joker laughing… Batman didn't arrive in time. There was a bomb there, and Sheila was the only one of the two who was unharmed. The only thing Robin regretted was that We were trapped there. Dying was something I knew could happen. I knew there was a chance Batman or someone else wouldn't get there in time for him, but I felt sorry for us.”

“So the explosion and everything that was said about the incident was to cover up what really happened, that the Joker was involved, and that Robin had died.”

“As far as I know, they didn't know if it was him or me that was a body there. They thought it was mine. I don't know what really happened. The only one who could answer that is Batman, and obviously he doesn't like us. I think he resents me for surviving, so he's not exactly friendly.” (annoyed joke)

“...Do you have regular contact with Batman…?” It was a question asked with genuine curiosity.

“Bruce and he have an on-again, off-again relationship, not that the press is wrong about that,” he gestured with his free hand, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t say Batman and his brood go to the mansion for dinner, but if we run into each other, we chat like acquaintances whose parents sometimes go out together and are a mess, but they avoid it so as not to make us a target. We’re just a group that people kidnap more often and have to see, but I think they’d prefer not to have to see any Wayne children.”

“...I knew it,” he smiled triumphantly. “So this is the reason for the small funeral and the confusion.”

“Grief doesn’t make people make good decisions. The truth is, Bruce didn’t take my death very well. Richard was traveling at the time, doing some kind of work. Richie wasn’t there because Bruce didn’t tell him I was dead, didn’t call him for the funeral. He found out through the press and it took him a couple of days to come back. He wasn’t happy. They had a big fight about it, from what I understand,” he clarified further firm

“We thought he intentionally didn’t go to the funeral because he was traveling.”

“No, B didn’t tell him I was dead. At first, he didn’t believe the news of my death because he obviously thought that if any of us ended up in the hospital or died, they would notify him. It wasn’t until he saw the news in other media outlets that he took it seriously and came back. They had a fight about it.”

“Wow…” He nodded, leaving a brief silence as if processing it. “So Robin is buried in the grave that has your name on it?”

“No, the grave is empty. At some point, they discovered it was Robin who died, so they exhumed his body. They thought my remains were lost, and there was no explanation until Talia found me.”

“Talia Head, Damian’s mother, and she also worked for Lex Luthor for a while. She’s a very successful businesswoman.”

“Yes, she took me in. I was in very bad shape, but she paid for the best doctors. At first, I was afraid I’d have to call Bruce to tell him I’d found his son, but he died. So I waited until I was better. I actually have pictures of Damian when he was a little boy.”

“When did Bruce and the others find out you were alive? Why wasn’t anything known about you until now?”

Jason seemed to gather strength again, breathing deeply. “There’s a year of memories I don’t clearly remember, right after the explosion and waking up under Talia’s care. But according to the investigation, the explosion threw me and I ended up under the rubble in a way that prevented me from being seriously injured. I had more injuries from the beating the Joker gave me after he got into it with Robin, but the explosion didn’t do much damage. I was taken from another refugee hospital, there was another attack, and I ended up under a criminal organization… They don’t give you options about whether you want to follow their orders or not; they just force you to take up arms and do their job. We didn’t have many choices. I couldn’t stand that. I didn’t even really know who I was because of the blow to my head, but I knew I wasn’t there. When Talia found me, I went into witness protection. I did things I didn’t want to do. That’s why my relationship with Bruce isn’t the same.”

“A lot has happened to you, Jason. It’s incredible that you decided to come back to Gotham.”

“It’s my home.” He seemed more relaxed. “When I came back, all of this was explained to Bruce and the…” Besides, he wasn't the same anymore. He could never be the same after all the trauma. They've always wanted that boy back, but people change when things happen to them.

"It certainly couldn't have been easy coming back. You only had one brother back then."

"No, I was definitely bitter. I resented Tim. We fought and argued. It wasn't fair to him either. We get along better now, but I always regret how I reacted to him. I made things much harder because I couldn't accept things. I'm no saint. I wasn't good. Neither of us was kind to each other, and I really don't have much patience for Batman. I really don't. That's why I live in Crime Alley."

"Won't coming out publicly now cause you problems?"

"Isn't that why I live in Crime Alley?" “No, the criminal organization was disbanded and they’re in prison. I could have actually gone back sooner, but Bruce didn’t think it was a good idea. He’s doing it out of protectiveness and trauma, but I wanted my life back. I got a new identity, and Talia officially adopted me, which is what I’ve kept out of reach of until now.”

“That’s great!” he applauds, wanting to lighten the mood.

“I wasn’t going to let the man who accidentally killed the Joker go to save me. That’s the best part of it all.”

“I didn’t want to force any conversations about painful topics. If Jay wanted to tell me something, he’d do it in his own time, but you can get an idea from the small things. At that moment, I just wanted to knock the Joker unconscious, get him away from him. I wasn’t going to stand there and watch that thing kill my boyfriend!”

“I think that’s the best joke of all. Dead from a blunt force trauma, without any theatrics or on his terms. Did he deserve to suffer more?” Of course, but I think we can all agree that he's burning in hell.”

The interview had moved on to their relationship, talking more about Danny and who he was, how they decided to get married, and how they managed to do it so unexpectedly. Much more engaging and worthy of celebrity gossip… Until the very last question.

“Anything to say? Any statement anyone wants to make?”

“Actually, I’m glad you asked.” Jason’s smile gave them a bad feeling as he pulled out a marriage certificate. “Vicki, what do you notice besides the beautiful frame our friend gave us?”

“Your names, both Master’s, but what about your middle names?”

“Mine is Polaris. I’ve had it for years. I liked the space theme back then, and Dad let me use it.”

“What about you?”

“I used to be Peter, but I intended to change it. Now I can really show it. Robin. It’s for Robin. I knew I was gay. I’m unlucky in love, and well, I didn’t think I could name a son after myself, but I wanted to. I wanted to bear his name because he saved me, because he was a hero and deserved more. He deserved to live, and now his killer is dead.”

“They call it divine justice,” Danny blurted out.

“Wow! Congratulations!”

“I also have a few words for Batman. You see, Vicky, when you’re waiting for your dad weird boyfriend to show up in another country with his kid, you end up talking.” He passed the certificate frame to Danny, who was still showing off, and then Jason pulled out something else. It looked like a poster with some newspaper clippings. “So I came here too to clear that kid’s name.”

“What’s this?” she asked, very curious.

“Batman and Robin were having relationship problems because Batman blamed a 15-year-old boy for this murder, specifically Felipe Garzonas, his death was ruled an accident because he was high and intoxicated when he fell from the balcony, and both Felipe's father, José Garzonas, and Batman blamed Robin," he clarified. "Well, that seemed like garbage to me, to put it mildly."

"And how can you prove Robin's innocence if Batman couldn't?"

“Because Felipe Garzonas faked his death, he was arrested three months ago by the police in his country and he’s in prison, alive. It was proven to be him.” He looked directly at the camera. “I know you’re watching this, Batman. From your stupid Bat-chair, you accused a boy who considered you his father, not just his mentor, of murder, simply because he was a kid you took in off the street. Because of your damn prejudice, because you thought he’d always be a criminal because of his street status, you didn’t avenge his death. You let the Joker live. You got another Robin. You couldn’t even wait for the previous one’s body to be eaten by worms. God knows what you did with his body. Why the hell did we let you have a kid in your care? Nightwing killed the Joker for his brothers, and you, you sick bastard, gave him first aid. Yes, I heard. So I’m here to tell the whole city that the Joker killed your son. You did nothing. Nightwing killed the Joker, and you brought him back to keep his hands on him.” "You cleaned things up, you prevented Red Hood from killing him too, and you framed him for the murder of a rapist who's actually still alive in a Colombian prison. If you don't care about your Robins, Gotham does, but I do, so you can rot, I'm not afraid of you."

Right then, the videos Danny had, according to an alert, also surfaced.

"What the hell did he just do?!" Tim blurted out, not panicked, but almost furious, indignant.

"He can't do this!" Damian shouted indignantly, offended by what they had just seen.

“Oh my God, did he really do this?” Steph was also in shock. She looked at Dick, who hadn't said anything; in fact, he was silent, staring at the screen, not really seeing it. She was worried.

“There's no way to deny this without looking bad. Actually, even not saying anything is problematic. Even bringing up that Red Hood is the second Robin isn't going to make it better,” Tim continued to mutter the words in annoyance, watching social media explode. “I can't download these stupid videos!”

“Dick” Cass called to her brother, who was furious, truly furious.

“Felipe Garzonas was alive this whole time,” he said, trying to calm down. “I’m going to punch Bruce. Yes, I knew. Yes, I knew that guy was alive.” His phone rang. He answered, knowing who was on the other end. “Barb.”

“I’m leaving the Danny video thing to Tim, but I’m looking through the files. If Bruce knew Garzonas was alive, I’ll know. He’s not going to hide this from me.”

“Thanks.”

“Perhaps the worst part is that he used part of the version we already had prepared for when he legally came back to life. We prepared that evidence a while ago. If he disappears now, he’ll be suspicious, especially since he has all the judges on his side. They’ve given him a lot of official certificates just because Danny Master asked for them, not to mention Talia’s help.” Barbara sounded angry too.

“He stole my name.”

“That…yes, it’s official. All his papers have been updated to that name.” He'll change it now. It seems like he was intimidated, given the reason he gave on television. Even worse, they have more interviews scheduled, even with Lois, which is where we might have some leverage, but we can't do anything about it.”

Dick just tried to take a deep breath, to calm down. “I don't understand why he's doing this,” he admitted.

“He's afraid of Bruce,” Cass said with a sad expression. “When he talked about Tim and regretting things, he was being sincere. He is sincere about regretting things, but he's getting ahead of Bruce.” She ran her hand in circles down her older brother's back to calm him. “He's protecting Danny and himself.”

“Taking the name Robin?” It's Damian's incredulous question that grows more and more muttering.

"Seen this way... they seem like direct blows to B, although he'll drag us down with him too." Tim pauses for a moment, thinking. "He didn't need to explain why Dick wasn't at the funeral, or that our identities have no relation to our civilian identities. He made it seem like none of us want a relationship with anyone. It's reinforced by the fact that Tim Drake and Red Robin 'hate' each other. When Dick was Robin, he always said he preferred Superman to be his other father. Since neither of them has been seen beyond being saved by some other member of the gang, it seems like the Waynes and the Batkids can't stand each other..."

"It's against Bruce, not us. Ruining his image without lying too much," Cass agreed. "Stealing Robin to provoke him... and he might still be mad at you."

"Dick," Barbara called his name, but everyone already knew what she was going to say.

“Since when?” That was a crucial truth, something that could make them distance themselves from Bruce or not.

“He knew before Ethiopia.”

__________

“Divide and conquer, it’s a classic.” Daniel Masters stood before him, unperturbed, sipping from his mug. He was alone in the apartment; the dog wasn’t home but being walked by Jason.

“You pulled this trick,” he accused furiously. He had arrived at the mansion after his secretary yelled at him about Vicky’s interview with Jason and Daniel. Dick was waiting for him, truly furious, starting a fight that barely ended before he shouted to take the children away. The others had stood on the sidelines, watching.

“I only planted the information, but Felipe Garzonas is really him, alive. You just didn’t try.” He shrugged, dismissing it as unimportant.

“Where’s Talia?”

“She’s alive. I just gave her something to keep her occupied, so she’s busy with her own affairs.”

Something she hates is that she knows Daniel doesn’t lie, just like Ra’s al Ghul and Talia don’t either. His honesty is worse, but she doesn’t let her guard down.

“Now you have technopath powers.”

“No, but you don’t have a record of everyone in the world with that ability. Neither do I, but I knew where to ask. Your ‘don’t meddle’ rule doesn’t make you popular, even if I know it was with good intentions.”

“You’ll make a mistake.”

“Probably.” He nodded. “But I’ll do my best to make sure it’s too late.”

He tries to move forward, but her body feels heavy. Nothing has changed. Daniel doesn’t even flinch.

“You should back off. I still have cameras, and you won’t look good if you come a third time.” Again, with a gesture, he was out of the apartment.

_______________

The city is more lively since the Joker died. Danny is now the most popular guy in school, and Jason struts around when they walk hand-in-hand.

Patrolling has become difficult for everyone else, but for him, on the day shift, things haven't really changed that much. Even so, he has to ask why they played dirty, and he knows it's only going to make things worse.

"Here's the information you asked for," Red Hood says, tossing him a USB drive. His posture is relaxed; he still finds it hilarious that Jason called him that night to ask him to bring his suit and agree to be his best man.

What was more surprising was that Danny had actually already arranged things, like the rings, Sam had secured a judge, decorated the room at the police station under the commissioner's incredulous gaze, and Tucker had obtained the necessary paperwork. Talia arrived alone, dressed for the occasion as Jason's other witness, with a better bottle of champagne to celebrate and invite them all to dinner at an exclusive restaurant she booked at the last minute.

He would have said this was moving too fast…but…he noticed the way Danny and Jason were looking at each other. Right then, he realized this was truly love. It reminded him of his parents, when he was young and they would make pancakes together on Saturday mornings, making him laugh.

Maybe Jason had finally gotten lucky and found the right man. This made him happy, so he stopped thinking they were moving too fast.

After dinner, they had to go back to the station for paperwork, but they were free to leave.

Talia al Ghul looked at him, analyzing him as she always does with anyone around her, and said nothing. In fact, she seemed amused.

“Was it necessary to say all that in the interview?” she asked, looking at her brother, who had taken off his helmet. He was right there, without fail.

“I barely lied,” he said.

“Yes, but was it necessary?”

“Bruce will never accept Danny. He didn’t accept him at first because he was a meta and a civilian, and he’ll never accept him now, all because he saved me.”

Deep down, he knows it’s true. Bruce… he has something strange with the Joker. Danny is a good guy, but he chose to save Jason, even if it was in self-defense. He’s acting strangely.

“I realized that the others avoid talking about Danny being a meta because of me,” he confesses. “They won’t give up.”

“Give up? Ha! They’re still determined to annul my marriage to save Danny from me!”

He looked at Jason again. There’s no better time than the present. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Why do you sound so serious all of a sudden?” he complains.

“I found something out. I’ve tried to tell you, but it’s never a good time. Now is actually the worst time to tell you, but I’m fed up with you thinking that way about yourself. I like you a lot, you know?”

“Okay, you’re scaring me a little, but it’s not like I don’t know they’re just pretending to like me.”

“No.” I looked at him straight in the eye, standing tall and serious. “All your past relationships, they sabotaged them.”

“Excuse me?”

“All the civilians who tried to date you were intimidated by Oracle and Red Robin. They were scared. Rose Wilson? That was Black Bat. Everyone you’ve tried to date was intimidated and scared off so they’d leave you. It was never your fault. It was them because they thought they were protecting you.”

“…Are you telling me that From Roy until now, they’ve been…sabotaging me?”

“I just know they have.” I looked at the other guy, who seemed unable to process it. I’d already said it, so I was going to ask something I wanted to know. “Don’t take this personally, but didn’t you ever notice that Slade was flirting with you…?”

“Everyone’s stupid if they think Slade does anything ‘subtle.’ Of course I knew he was interested in me! I just told him to fuck off.”

“Wow…he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who takes no for an answer…”

“He just wanted to sleep with me.”

“I have to ask because it’s the other guy I agreed with who shouldn’t be around you.”

“You mean Roman?”

“Oh my god, did something really happen? He has pictures of you!”

“I was really stressed and bored. I didn’t really think he’d fall for it. I just wanted to have some fun at his expense, but he liked it,” he admitted. At least he didn’t seem so upset anymore, as if he wanted to change the subject, too, to avoid thinking, “We sometimes had dinner together.”

“Ew.”

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

“The photos tell a different story.”

“No, I only took them when he caught me. I tried to delete them, but he has too many.”

“…Now he knows who you really are. Aren’t you worried?”

“No, he’s a bastard, but if any of the crooks decided to use our identities, they would have found us out sooner. I just have to silence him permanently.”

“You say that like everyone knows.”

“Duke, of course they know. Harley went to college with B, Harvey is one of B’s exes, most of them know. They just don’t say anything because it would spoil the fun. Even the commissioner and Montoya know; they’re just in denial for the sake of their sanity.”

“Jesus” he groaned.

“RR discovered our identities because N pulled the only trick that would get him recognized on any given night. It wasn't even subtle” he explains, having heard that story before.

“You're still in danger. I'm worried, that's all,” he admits, and that seems to make Jason less furious.

They remained silent for a while, though the city noise was still there, somehow quieter.

“All this time they…”

“Yes.”

“…you helped me, you covered for me” he adds. In fact, he helped with great enthusiasm, “all this time, so I could be with Danny.”

“You're a gray area. There are things I can respect about you, others we won't agree on, but what they did, I think, crossed a line. It's…too much. It didn't help you.”

“I expected this kind of thing from B, from RR, but somehow I think it's worse because I didn't expect it from Spoiler or BB…Agent A…?”

“Everyone, Hood, didn’t stop them. Everyone in Gotham, from the Birds of Prey to Batwoman, they were all in on it, even if they weren’t involved.”

“They can conspire to ruin everything I do, any spark of happiness. They’re unbelievable.”

“What will you do now?”

“I don’t want to see them. I don’t know what to think, but I really just want to scream. I’m sure they’ll say they did me a favor because no one else decided to stay despite them… the problem remains the same.”

“Do you think Talia will test him? The others seem worried that people will be after him now.”

“Talia won’t do anything. He did what Bruce couldn’t, and he didn’t even pay attention to her. He only looked at me, though now she’ll want to train him.”

“Okay.”

“…Now I’m glad about the interviews. Take care, Signal. I have too many things to think about and do.”

“Okay?” This had worked out better. I’d managed to tell him, and he didn’t seem so upset.

“Yes, his family is coming now, even his ex.”

“…His ex…?” he asked, confused.

"Yes, apparently they ended things amicably and remained friends." He didn't seem worried, but considering they were already married, it wasn't like he should be. "Thanks."

The thanks caught him a little off guard, but he nodded. "They're being stupid."

"Sometimes I think you're the only sane one because you're normal... as normal as you can be growing up in Gotham, but you're not ruined by Bruce like everyone else. I'm glad... if they bother you, you can come to our apartment."

"We'll see what happens."

He watched him put his helmet back on to head back to his territory across the rooftops. He turned to continue with what he was doing; it had gone better than expected.

The next day, messages start appearing from different people claiming they had tried to go out with Jason and were threatened. He looks at them, surprised and relieved that he'd told Jason, even if it was a day earlier, because it would have been terrible if he'd found out.

"It's just the consequences of other people's actions," he tells himself, looking at each post with disapproval. He knows that more will eventually appear than are real because that's how people are; they'll make up anything, but Jason would know.

When he returns to the cave, he finds Tim trying to mitigate the damage. The others are looking nervously at each new post, perhaps trying to remember if it was real or not. He denies it again. Dick was coming downstairs with the phone to his ear, but he could hear Jason yelling at him on the other end.

“I was going to apologize about the name thing, but since you've been such a jerk, I'm taking it back! I told you how I felt, and it was your fault! Do you love making fun of me?! Laughing at pathetic Jason?! Break your legs! If I see you anywhere near my territory, I'm going to shoot you!” He grimaced; he really sounded annoyed, and then the call ended abruptly.

The next thing that happened was the sound of Cass's phone, apparently messages, and then a voicemail. It wasn't pretty to see everyone reacting to the voicemails because they all ended with something like, “If I see you, I'm going to shoot you!”

Damian, like him, was exempt from these messages.

“Why didn't I call you?” Tim asked, looking at his phone anxiously, then at him suspiciously.

“I do have a good relationship with him, and he knows I wouldn’t do that to him.” It wasn’t a lie, so he must be okay. “Also, because I’m the last to know about these things; everyone knows.”

“He’s really upset,” Steph murmured, running her hand down Cass’s back in comfort.

“And why didn’t he call you?” Tim turned to Damian, who didn’t seem really worried.

“He’s always known I sabotage anyone since we met in Nanda Parbat with my mother.”

That made sense to all of them for some reason.

30 minutes later, all the security cameras in Crime Alley and the surrounding area were destroyed.

A few posts followed from Jason and Danny’s new official account, which only stirred up more trouble on social media.

*It’s one thing to scare off annoying people who insist on harassing you. Asking your brother out on a date and hiring someone to scare and threaten anyone who even tries to buy him a coffee*

*Toxic family, get the hell out of here, honey*

*I'm this close to moving out of the country with my husband*

*One more stupid thing and I'm outta here*

They say California is really beautiful this time of year

No, New Orleans, let's go for the food

You know what? We should finish college and take a year-long honeymoon.

My husband has the best ideas. But in the meantime, during the next break, we'll travel the country for a meal.

Everyone continued watching the conversation thread. Meanwhile, Tim's drone camera was focused on the living room of their apartment, where the two of them were sprawled on the sofa, writing all sorts of nonsense, looking at each other, and laughing.

"They're so sweet it's stupid," Steph complained.

"You haven't been sitting at the same table as them, you can't complain." Duke was proud of the couple he'd put together, but sometimes they were a bit much to watch. "Since they're obviously not going to be harassed, I'll tell them Danny's family is coming over with his ex-girlfriend for some reason, but Jason didn't seem nervous about it. I know Jason has video-called Vlad."

"Jason can't go on vacation for a whole year!" Dick bellowed.

"He once told me he was really toying with the idea of ​​quitting Hood, finishing college, and staying with Danny,” he said casually, observing the reactions of everyone staring at him.

“What about him?” Tim asked Duke,

“Yeah, I know, I told him maybe it was a little fast, but he insisted because he always ruins things, and I really didn’t want it to end.” He said it with a hint of obvious reproach. “Who would have thought that giving the guy with such low self-esteem even more confidence issues by ruining all his relationships and isolating him would make him hook up with the first person who treated him with more than just basic respect and love?”

“We already know we messed up, Duke!” Steph shouted.

“The worst part is that this guy isn’t a bad person at all, and he killed the Joker for him.” Tim wasn’t lamenting the Joker’s death; he was lamenting the situation because he couldn’t shake the feeling that Danny was too perfect. Something bad had to be going on, and he needed to know what it was so he could contain it.

“Yeah, we were really lucky Danny is decent,” he nodded calmly. “You should have seen it when they first met. It was so obvious. I had to introduce them.”

“You…? You introduced they?!” Dick exclaimed.

“Yep,” he was very proud of that. “Danny’s in some of my classes, Jason looked for me about something we forgot, I introduced them and they just stared at each other like idiots, not knowing what to say, and that’s why I’m going to be the best man again. I’m going to give that speech.”

“It’s weird when I want to punch you, but I really want to punch you right now.” Tim could only glare at him angrily.

The daytime vigilante just smiled, calm as he continued on his way to take off his suit and go up to the mansion.

“Since when are you so close to Jason?” Dick’s question stopped the other man in his tracks.

“Dude, he’s the only one of you guys who also works during the day and helps me by checking my essays,” he replied. “He doesn’t patrol, but he’s out there doing stuff, so sometimes I ask him for information or help. Sometimes we eat when I’m near his territory.”

“Doing what kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know, sometimes it’s better not to ask. There are things I can respect about him and other things I don’t support or think are right, but nobody’s perfect. I’ll call him an idiot when he deserves it, and we’ll eat burgers together.”

“…And he doesn’t threaten you, isn’t he too rough…?”

Dick’s next question made Duke turn to look at him, fall silent, and stare at them with even more disappointment, as if he’d just realized something.

“Have you ever tried treating him like a real person…? Aware of his traumas…at least some trauma? Getting to know him again? Because, you know, sometimes I notice things and then I think, ‘Now it all makes sense.’ Never mind, I have homework to do.”

________

The thing about their little game of pretending they don’t see evil, don’t hear evil, and don’t speak of evil is that sometimes they wanted to react strongly. He's seriously considering destroying everything and then rebuilding a world as if nothing happened.

So when Jay arrived distraught, saying that everyone in the damn city had sabotaged all his past relationships, he called Roy first until he got the archer to admit the truth. Kori's situation had been handled differently, but the result was the same: she couldn't locate Kyle because he was in space. It was more difficult to get Rose to answer his call, but she only said that having to deal with Cass to be with him was very complicated because he kept defeating her.

Roy also told him that, in general, the other heroes or vigilantes didn't want to get close because of Bruce, Dick, and others. Tim and Bruce were the ones who insisted he wasn't "stable."

Too dangerous.

Too emotional.

Too reckless.

Tim's team didn't need motivation to see him down; they knew it. They resented him for that, which is why they liked it, because at least they were still angry about what he did to Tim.

There were things he couldn't prevent because of his actions, but Bruce and Tim didn't stop. Dick tried a different approach.

The original Titans—not just Kori and him, but also Donna, Wally, Rachel, and Garfield—weren't hurting his image. It wasn't pity; it was that they had realized Dick was handling it badly, unintentionally isolating him in his attempt to protect him. They didn't agree, but there wasn't much they could do.

Not against the smear campaign that had been going on for years, even before his death.

He husband was so hurt; anger had gone beyond him. It was more pain, a feeling of betrayal.

What happens with the dead is that they also go through stages very similar to grief. The ghosts of the infinite realms, those left out of any heaven, purgatory, or hell—the Realms—had to face these stages several times upon their formation and afterward. It was a cauldron of feelings that cooled and reheated along with their consciousness and soul, the will and stubbornness that made them exist and kept them existing, literally out of pure resentment, many times.

Her husband, who didn't remember much at the beginning of his life, both wanted to and feared remembering.

He knew that "Robin" was a hero, that he had died like one, and when the memories fully returned, so did the pain and rage.

He received help to rationalize what happened because, since he was already dead, there was no going back, but it helped a lot to put in order the things that could have been done and the things that couldn't be controlled.

He couldn't control other people's actions.

He couldn't control Sheila's decision to use him as a bargaining chip for the Joker.

He couldn't control the Joker.

He couldn't control the explosion.

Could he have done things differently? Yes, actually, yes.

The next question was, why had he made those decisions?

He had been desperate, so he wasn't aware of all the dangers.

Why had he been desperate?

Because he believed that by taking Robin away from him, by telling him he wasn't his son, Bruce would leave him on the street again. He had been a teenager, traumatized by his difficult childhood and early adolescence.

Becoming Robin was a mistake, a mistake he was bound to make because he was a kid who, of course, wanted to be Robin now that the position was vacant.

He didn't have the necessary tools to cope with the things he had seen, the things he had lived through, the things he had done.

Was it all Bruce's fault? Not really, it wasn't entirely his fault. Many people had failed: Alfred had failed, Lucius had failed, Leslie had failed, Clark had failed, Diana had failed, his teachers had failed, the system around him in general had failed.

Bruce shouldn't have become Robin, and Alfred and the other adults shouldn't have allowed Bruce to do what he was doing.

A kid like him, who had survived Crime Alley, the most dangerous neighborhood on the continent, shouldn't have become Robin. It had hurt Jason deeply to realize that. A boy like him needed help processing what he'd experienced, finding another way to release the pain, anger, and energy, to distance himself from danger, from more cruelty and evil in the world. He needed a father, a family, a support system.

The isolation might have been intentional. Bruce might have wanted his new Robin to be away from others so he wouldn't withdraw like the previous one had, making things more difficult, starting more questions, and causing more fights.

Jason had spent a lot of time analyzing his death, the things he couldn't control, the decisions he could have made, and the decisions he would have made anyway.

A trigger had been the death of Felipe Garzonas. Should Bruce have trusted him? Yes. Should Bruce have thought that a guy who was a little drugged and drunk could trip over the balcony on his own? Yes. Could Bruce have cleared up his doubts if he had called Diana to use her Lasso of Truth? YES

When Tucker had brought up that point, that question of why not use the Lasso of Truth to prove his innocence or guilt? Jason had gone blank.

It would have been as easy as picking up the phone or sending a text message.

Would it have bridged the gap between them? No, not really. Trust had been broken, the wound was already inflicted, and perhaps it would have made things worse.

If he had had someone else to run to, someone else to turn to for help, would he have sought out Sheila? Yes, but there would have been two people to defend themselves against the Joker; it would have been harder for Sheila to betray him.

Jason's death had been a major headache, a contradiction in Clockwork's words.

Jason Todd's death had been a cosmic mistake; he shouldn't have died.

Yet Jason Todd's death was a constant.

His husband then posed a question to time itself.

What would happen if Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd never met?

Jason Todd lives.

He becomes a father, becomes a father who still dies, comes back to life, is an exorcist, and is something of a vigilante, in He becomes a Formula 1 race car driver, a teacher, a pediatrician, a paramedic, gets married, is adopted and dies, becomes a thief, becomes an actor.

Jason Todd dies, doesn't always come back to life, rarely does, but when he does, he takes different paths. He stays with Talia al Ghul, leaves the League and becomes a mercenary, stays in every caste, dies in every caste, wins against the untitled and stays there with Ducra and Essence, dies at Bruce's hands.

Many things could have been done, things he couldn't control because he was a child; it was the responsibility of the adults in his life.

I never blame Bruce Wayne for his death, even when he was a ghost. He maintained that decision even when he came back to life; I never blame him for not arriving in time.

But I could hold him responsible for making his support network so small. For dooming him to failure from the very beginning.

Bruce Wayne could have called Dick to tell him he now had a little brother.

Bruce could have gotten him real help, even if he didn't believe in it because it hadn't worked for him.

Alfred could have called Dick when he saw that Bruce hadn't.

Alfred should have insisted on getting him help when Bruce said it wasn't necessary because it didn't work, even though he knew why it hadn't worked for Bruce.

Dick should have let go of his issues with Bruce.

Jason should have been more honest.

He had been there every night Jason was processing his death, trying to cope with it. He hugged him when he cried, got angry on his behalf, encouraged him, and held him until Jason had said enough.

He didn't ask Clockwork any more questions.

He didn't blame Bruce, or even Sheila, for his death.

He didn't blame anyone but the Joker and didn't allow himself to ask questions about what would have happened if the Joker had died first.

It felt like a cruel mockery, Jason had once told him, because he himself had stopped Bruce from killing the Joker.

Jason Todd's death is both a cosmic mistake and a constant.

They didn't speak of it again; her husband didn't bring up his past, didn't lament it, he buried it deep in his mind and moved on.

His love had suffered so much; he deserved better, he deserved to have everything he wanted, everything he needed.

Perhaps what hit him hardest personally was that Jason had been denied that help, had been so isolated.

He had a severe problem with isolation; Jazz wasn't even surprised that it had stuck with him for so long.

Again, he listened to everything "his family" was doing for his "good," supporting his love.

Jason was easily angered. In reality, he could forgive easily many times, almost to the point of easily forgetting the harm done to him. But when the pain surpassed that corrosive, burning anger, that's when he showed how much it had hurt him.

So he held her husband, her kind, very noble husband, and comforted him when he cried about how his dreams would never come true, about how alone he had felt, about the nights he spent berating himself, saying it was a mistake, his fault, for allowing everything because he didn't want to be alone, the self-loathing.

The Danny of 720 years ago wouldn't have considered destroying that universe as his first option. His past self, who limited himself to hating from afar and even trying to empathize with his husband's family, ignoring them, not seeking them out, would try to be impartial, at least out of politeness, because he had manners.

The Danny he is now, however…

It begins when he's made sure his Robin is asleep and safe in his arms, still relieved that his Jason still allows himself to be so vulnerable and honest with him about the things that hurt him, that he allows himself to be comforted like this, to be held like this by him to feel safe. He sends a simple message to Tucker, then to Sam, Valerie, and finally to Jazz.

It turns out that the ghosts of the infinite realms can feed on emotions much better, more efficiently, than the ghosts that form in the living realms. Spectra wasn't a rare type of entity; it was just the easiest way to survive in places or worlds where ectoplasm was scarce.

There's a reason why ghosts are a type of "monster."

What a bad idea to recognize bats and birds worldwide as "paranoid," telling too many lies, seeing being "too emotional" as a weakness, as a mistake.

How awful that there were cracks that people could see.

How unfortunate for the older brother that some people knew he had hallucinated too much in the past.

How unfortunate that it became known that Red Robin was one step away from villainy for being so intense and refusing to let go.

What a shame for the woman who sat atop her tower watching everything, believing she was infallible.

How sad for the girls who were so close and yet so far away.

What will become of the younger brother who still clings to the legacies of his birth, who still has something to hold onto? What will happen when he loses one and the other is too ruined? Perhaps he will be grateful later.

What a great tragedy for the man with a strong moral code, so guilty, so clinging, that he seems to have forgotten he is human, that he could make mistakes, that he could ask for help and ask for forgiveness, that he could change but chose not to. How unfortunate it is that everyone seems to forget they are mortal, that death can be permanent, that a man who kept to himself his whole life could remain on the sidelines in his death as well.

How fortunate for Duke and so many others that Jazz has so many doctorates and years of experience helping people heal.

How fortunate for Gotham that Sam and Tucker can work so well together to create things that help the planet.

How fortunate for the city that Valerie has such ingenuity for security, for building and making things work.

How fortunate for Jason to have a father-in-law and sister-in-law who are so endearing, with a knack for attracting people, who can change perspectives with a few simple words.

How fortunate for Lady Gotham that one of her birds married him, and yet how unfortunate because he had wanted Jason to have a title before the marriage, so he wouldn't just be recognized as her consort. How unfortunate for the city's spirit that his bird, his heart bleeding for his people, was so easily loved by the ancient of chaos, and that her claim would weigh more heavily on him than his own.

So he sent a message, just the first crack.

They had caused his Robin so much pain before and after because it was "for his own good," because they were worried he was "too emotional," "too reckless," "too stupid"... too human. They made him feel inadequate, a mistake, they pressured him, they sullied his name Man, they chose others over him, they complain, they treat him like a monster, they can't see him for who he is, they choose to see the worst in him.

Fine.

Then, for the sake of them all, things will improve so much that they'll feel so inadequate and imperfect that they'll wonder why they even tried.

How could they complain? When the city is so much better, when its people are happy and safe. Be careful what you wish for, malicious compliance and all that. Does that count as Cassandra's curse? (It's a tentative alternative, really.)

So tomorrow all those people who were harassed by the bats will come out of the shadows for more scandal, and the day after tomorrow Tim Drake will be dumped by his boyfriend for lying too much. Bernard deserves someone better, honestly. Someone who won't lie to him after so long and can commit to not putting him down.

________

They watch the plane, the first-class passengers disembarking as they arrive in the city. Vlad Masters is tall, much broader in the upper body, with gray hair tied in a low ponytail, blue eyes, and a stern face—the classic look of a villain who is laughable.

He carries a white carrier, decorated in pink, where a white Angora cat sits almost petulantly, as its name suggests.

The red-haired woman beside him is tall, fit but not muscular, with greenish-blue eyes. She dresses casually in comfortable black pants and a long-sleeved cotton blouse with small floral details, carrying a medium-sized handbag. Her most obvious feature is that she is taller than average. She seems demure.

The other woman, who is Black, is the complete opposite. Her hair is styled simply, and her clothes are much more formal: black with a burgundy satin shirt. She is of average height, and her face is stern and perpetually annoyed, though she smiles.

Apparently, Danny had a type.

The youngest of the group is a girl who looks a lot like Danny but mysteriously has the same eyes as Vlad Master. He's the most lively of the group, her backpack filled with small souvenirs from past trips.

Vlad seems happy to leave the three girls to their conversation without interfering, reacting to what they say to himself and sometimes talking to his cat, who gives punctual meows as if in response.

They stayed in the first-class waiting area, enjoying the space and amenities.

It wasn't long before they saw Jason and Danny arrive, walking by as if nothing was amiss. Danny's popularity made people part before him as if he were Moses at the Red Sea; it was almost ridiculous how the whole city decided Danny was some kind of royalty, admiring him and respecting his space if he asked.

Instead of hugging her brother, the girl runs excitedly to hug Jason, who catches her with a big smile. She speaks quickly, very excited.

Jasmine approaches Danny to give him a hug.

Vlad also approaches, hugging and gently smoothing Danny's hair, and Danny even greets the cat.

The ex-girlfriend, Valerie Gray, pulls Jason's younger sister, Ellie, away from him. She looks at him for a second, and her annoyed expression transforms into joy, nodding and almost cooing at him. Vlad actually puts his arm around Jason's shoulders, very happy to meet him, and Jasmine is the most composed of the group.

They walk through the break room to the food buffet, where they sit down to eat. Even the cat gets a chair and his own plate with his name on it, and the conversation is generally going very well.

To everyone's surprise, Duke arrives, looking a little shy. Jason introduces him, and everything seems fine.

It's… strange because everything seems to be going well. They spend almost two hours at the table, chatting after the meal, and then they leave. Vlad and Valerie remain close to Jason, while Ellie monopolizes Duke, and Danny and Jasmine engage in a more relaxed conversation.

The car definitely belongs to Talia because it includes a driver who takes them to the best hotel in the city.

They stay at the hotel, going up to their rooms.

The conversation they overhear is normal, really normal. The girls take Duke and Jason with them to buy something. So Vlad and Danny are left together, silent, so they emphasize it even more. It's a good thing Cass planted microphones there while they followed them to the airport.

"Daniel," there's a slight accent.

"Yes?"

"Oh, don't play innocent with me," he says, but Danny laughs and the man sighs, "Silly puppy."

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Not turn you in to the police? Seriously? I saw the video. You could have run away, and I would have hidden you.”

“Is that your complaint?” He laughs a little more. “We keep talking about what to do after graduation. We toyed with the idea of ​​a year-long honeymoon.”

“Make it two. You have a year and a half left before graduation. Can you come over for the holidays?”

“We’re having problems with his family.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t disowned him already.”

“Vlad!”

“He’s the best, little badger. Yes, the Waynes have a reputation, but so does his father. Brucie Wayne may be a Wayne, but his mother is Talia Head, who is a sensible woman. I don’t know what she saw in Brucie.”

“Vlad,” came a reproachful call. “Stop sitting like that with Princess. You look like a parody of a villain.”

“That’s very racist of you.”

“Vlad, that would hurt Jason.”

“Yes, maybe it would, but if his family doesn’t appreciate him, if they don’t accept your marriage, sometimes distance is better, Daniel.” His tone softened at the end. “He looks at you with love, and you at him.”

“Yes, we’re a little obvious.”

“Daniel, I saw a man on a corner selling T-shirts that said ‘If your boyfriend doesn’t kill the Joker, then he’s not there, queen,’ like it wasn’t weird, with a picture of you two on them.”

“You should have told me. I would have bought one.”

“Daniel! Be serious, please.”

“What Is it more serious than accidental murder in self-defense?"

"Was it accidental, Daniel?"

"Of course it was. If I'd known what happened, I would have punched him more than once. He got away too easily, if you ask me," he snorted.

"I'm surprised no one's done this before."

"Vigilantes," was his reply.

"Have they tried to come after you? Besides the video?" There was a silence. "Daniel."

"Tryed is the right word," he confessed.

Ugh, yeah, Bruce's attempt and finding them on the kitchen floor—yeah, that can be called an attempt.

"Valerie's been working on something. It'll be ready soon, but they'd have to move to make the adjustments."

"We're staying in Crime Alley."

"Why? Because it's the most dangerous place in the city?" He asked, his voice thick with pain, “Your sister wants to come to Arkham. The next thing I know, your other sister is moving here too. You guys are going to give me a heart attack.”

“We all knew Jazz was going to come to Arkham since she was 13. I’d say we’ve done a lot of good keeping her away from there all this time.”

“Well, at least she’ll be safer now that the Joker’s dead.” He sounded exasperated. “Why there?”

“Furries don’t go near the vigilante’s territory in the alley. We’re safer there. They’re more likely to get shot if they’re seen nearby.”

“I swear I get lost in this vigilante thing. That’s why I always moved somewhere without one, so you only have to worry about the local mob.” He let out another exasperated sigh. “Are you really sure?”

“I’ve received like 10 letters saying we’re safe. I have a letter from the Penguin, the Maronis, the Falconis, and Two-Face saying that if we need to hide from Batman, they’ll have our backs. I even have a Poison Ivy plant with a note from Harley Quinn saying we can run into her garden; her plants and hyenas have our backs. Our neighbor, Mrs. Norris, said she’d use her shotgun if she saw us coming in.”

“Jesus Christ.”

They all looked at each other, a little panicked. It sounded like something everyone would do, but it only made things worse.

“Yeah, I just talked to the mayor. He wants to give me the keys to the city. I admit, sometimes this is more worrying, but at least I don’t have any stalkers. We’re safe in Crime Alley. Those people really hate Batman.”

“Shortbread!”

“Yeah, anyway, someone in the police made me appointments to see a few psychiatrists.”

“I’m afraid to ask because this gives me a feeling it’s worrying.”

“In their words, this way there will be a record that I’m mentally healthy, and that way none of the vigilantes can throw me in Arkham. They also suggested I have a copy on my phone that somehow all the judges in the state signed, stating that they can’t throw me in Blackgate either.”

“By all the holy sweets.”

“Harley Quinn said I should get something similar but from the Justice League, that she had connections.”

“You don’t look even a little worried.”

“Attacking me isn’t good for their reputation. Gotham hates that clown more than they love their bat.”

“I’m sure Valerie will rush with her project. I don’t want to risk you too much yet. Okay, but I’d still prefer to secure one or two places. Jasmine at least agreed to live in a better area.”

“Jazz is going to kill it with this city”

“May God protect this city”

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?”

“You’re a brat, you got married and I wasn’t there”

“I can get married as many times as I want as long as it’s to the same boyfriend. Jason’s mom also said something about several proper weddings.” (hums) “Cujo and Princess will be the ring bearers. You’ll look very dignified, Princess.”

“Of course yes, indeed."

The atmosphere had seemingly relaxed.

"Aren't you worried that Valerie will make your husband uncomfortable?"

"Actually, I'm afraid they'll gang up on me. Are you still waiting to see if he goes out with Jazz or Ellie?"

"She'll be part of this family one way or another."

"As long as you don't make her my stepmother, I don't care how you do it."

"Of course not. I'm a decent man."

"Are you still trying to make Uncle jealous with your assistant?"

"Is this really the case? It’s working for me, so shut up.”

“Well, the guy congratulated me too.”

“Of course he did. I was having a meltdown and he was laughing,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Again, tell me how we went from ‘I’m possibly being prosecuted for murder’ to ‘this is a good time to marry my boyfriend.’ I still don’t get it.”

Danny laughed again, calming down after a few seconds. “Besides the excitement, I also wanted Jay to feel safe. If something happened to me, he could make decisions as my husband. No one could keep him out of it, so no one could erase what we had… He was really scared. For a moment, I saw all the relief and happiness he felt because the Joker was finally dead, and in seconds he was afraid of what Batman might do to me. He’s terrified, Dad.” He sounded worried for the first time, distressed. “He’s really terrified that man will do something to us. Batman terrifies him. I think he’s afraid he’ll take me because of him, as if it were his fault. As if he’d asked to be put in that situation, I told him we should stop at that store because I wanted to buy some bags of chips,” he explained. This was new information.

Although they felt uncomfortable hearing how terrified his brother was of Bruce,

“It was my idea to stop there. I insisted because it was on our way. I can’t let him blame himself just because I wanted a stupid bag of chips. I won’t let him blame himself for living his life. No, it’s not our fault. If that jerk wants to blame someone, he can start with himself. How could he not notice his whore ran away?”

“Daniel!”

“Please,” he pleaded. “Was I supposed to let them die?” I didn't even want to kill him, I just wanted to protect him and that little girl… I loved him, it's like I knew it the moment I saw him. I thought, 'I have to go out with him, I have to meet him.' We talked all the time, we really talked, and we're still like that. We have time, I want all the time in the world, but I don't want to wait. It can't be anyone else, it can only be him. I won't love anyone else but him.”

Again, there was silence in the room. They hated not being able to see what was happening in the room because the curtains had been closed and the few cameras were covered by the suitcases Jason had arranged. They knew this would cause them more problems, but what could possibly get worse?

“You've grown so much. I wonder when that happened… just don't make a suicide pact, please.”

“You didn't keep yours.” It wasn't a reproach, but he said it quietly.

“I had you guys, little badger. You didn't keep yours either.”

“Uncle loves you. You should stop dancing around and just talk.”

“Yeah, I guess so… Does he know how to cook?” Right?”

“That sounds misogynistic coming from you,” he mocked.

“I have reasons to be worried.”

“Yes, Dad, he really knows how to cook. He enjoys it, it relaxes he, he’s teaching me too, and he’s succeeding.”

“As long as phe makes you happy and is faithful to you, that’s enough for me.”

“Come on, I have to stop them from destroying the city. Sam and Tucker are coming too.”

“I had my doubts about letting you come here, but you’ve made friends and a husband. I hope the city survives Jasmine.”

“Can you imagine if Jasmine manages to get Batman into therapy? I’d pay to see it.”

“You’re very relaxed about this,” he said again, still with a hint of concern.

“Did you know that the LGBT community, the rights organization Meta, are actually on the verge of labeling Batman a danger?” We also called the Russian consulate—your lawyer's idea, by the way—so I'm just one call away from what could cause an international problem, which, of course, the city, the governor of New Jersey, and the president don't want.”

He admitted it with glee, an almost petty, triumphant joy. They didn't know that; they hadn't obtained that information. Why didn't they have that information?

“And yet we're staying at a Wayne family hotel. You're terrible, little badger. I'm proud of my baby.”

“They can plant as many bugs and microphones wherever they want. It's not like I'm lying about the facts, and you know, Vlad, the truth is still the truth. It's not good or bad, just a fact. I have nothing to hide, and, well, I wouldn't want to call the consulate and tell them that Gotham vigilantes violated our family's privacy. I'd show them pictures of every microphone and camera my husband covered for privacy because a minor is staying in this suite. It would be terribly inconvenient.”

Vlad Masters He laughed.

“So, since there are obviously no hidden microphones or cameras planted by vigilantes, I won’t have to make that call. We’ll be gone for two hours, and maybe I’ll have imagined it was there.”

They all looked at each other, feeling deeply indignant but knowing they had lost the battle.

“Two hours out of the suite, no microphones or cameras, and that tin of English blend tea leaves that my husband loves, the one he buys at that expensive shop in the Diamond District where his grandfather Alfred buys it—they put those things in the room service, don’t they?”

“You can pay for that.”

“But this is the most expensive hotel in the city, owned by the Wayne family. Of course, I’d have something like that available, along with a caramel macchiato frappuccino, lactose-free milk, a vanilla shot, caramel in the glass, chocolate whipped cream, chocolate chips, and a hot chocolate with whipped cream, marshmallows, and more whipped cream and sprinkles on top. That way, maybe I could calm my husband down, who suddenly got a little serious because of the cameras we imagined we saw.”

The audacity was incredible.

“Or I could just realize I didn’t think I saw things and make that call with the footage from my cameras of the times Batman entered our apartment and the evidence from the room. Some people forget that I have an aerospace engineering degree excellent grades. I’m not just a pretty face or stupid.”

“After all, you’re not the heir to the company simply because it wasn’t your dream.”

The bedroom door closed without further conversation.

“I hate him,” Tim muttered under his breath.

“I’ll get that tea,” Steph murmured, “and I guess I’ll wait for your drinks.” She sighed.

“I hate him. He thinks he’s a know-it-all.”

“You’re upset about Bernard, Red,” Dick said again, glancing at his brother, who was still upset. It seemed the breakup was serious.

Damien remained silent, going behind Cass to remove the microphones that had been placed in the room. It was incredible that Damian seemed to accept Danny for this move; now all that was left was for him to challenge him to a sword duel.

Barbara confirmed the appointments; she had already been to two. It seemed Jasmine was indeed terribly competent. It was worrying that she had been interested in Arkham since she was 13.

It was her mistake to underestimate Danny; they would accept that.

But they were going to warn Bruce about the potential international fallout.

__________

Talia al Ghul doesn't consider herself a gentle mother, but despite all her flaws and personality, she considers herself a mother who loves her children.

Damian would always be the brute of love, of hope, of the ephemeral, but it was real. Once, a more mundane future was real, even if that spark didn't last because of the loyalties between her and her beloved.

She loves him.

It wasn't her intention to love the boy; she supposes he was just a tool. But she protected Damian even when he didn't even know his own name. She would kill for her son, and on one occasion, she realized he had learned the song she used to sing to Damian in private. She imitated it, comforting him. She was strangely maternal, if she could say so.

In fact, there are a couple of things she always wanted to know the reason for. Looking around the main room, she remembers the peculiar habits Jason used to have when he wasn't in control of his mind.

The enormous bed, which takes up almost the entire room, has what he calls a nest on top: the edges of many pillows, clothes like shirts, a trench coat, jackets. There are more of his son-in-law's clothes than his son's, but he also recognizes some of Damian's because of their size. Grayson's, Drake's, Cain's, Brown's, and Bruce's are scattered in the opposite corner. He can even recognize one of his own clothes that he had pretended not to be missing a while ago, next to Damian's.

Then there's a huge blanket that looks like it's made of fur, with other, warmer blankets on top.

He always wondered why his son did this. Once he threw him down the well, he had given up the habit, but sometimes he still stole clothes, which he hid in the pillowcases. Was it some way he found comfort? There are shelves with many books and a small floating shelf that serves as a nightstand next to the bed. The window faces the street, directly across from the building's facade, making it a terrible entry point for any vigilante, precisely so that no other vigilante would enter.

Otherwise, the apartment is maintained in good condition; Red Hood's spare equipment is stored under the bed.

Many things are stored under the floorboards, but they're no longer hidden; in fact, he doubts they were ever truly hidden.

What caught his attention was a suitcase that looked like glass with a red cushion, decorated with gold leaf, where he could see two weapons.

They were also decorated, functional weapons; there was something about them that was obviously not normal. They had an 'R' and an 'H' engraved on them. The suitcase had a biometric lock, but he could clearly see a card, as if the case and weapons were a gift.

It seemed to be written in some variant of Greek, but it was clearly a gift from his son-in-law.

The entire apartment seems tailored to her son's tastes: the wall colors, very little of Daniel's presence here—just small gifts alongside his son's books—but the air inside feels much more breathable than outside, even though there's no air filter visible. There's almost a sweet quality to the place.

Curious.

Now, she has to admit that the man her son chose as his husband isn't just an ordinary man. He clearly possesses magical abilities if he's been able to control it somewhat without even touching it. From the moment he set foot in the city, his mind wasn't his own, and it was difficult for him to break free from that control; it was only the distance that took over.

This second time, there hasn't been such control. She just wants to be sure she isn't controlling her son.

She senses something, turns around, and sees Daniel calmly walk through the apartment door, almost languidly, with a Frappuccino. He sees her.

"Would you have a cup of tea?" he asks.

"Will you poison me?"

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it a long time ago,” he said calmly. “But Jay loves you, and you’re being honest with him.”

“Then you can make me some tea, son-in-law.”

Daniel smiled and went to the kitchen to begin.

“Are you mind-controlling my son with your magic?”

“No, it’s just that his soul and mine are intertwined.”

“Are they?”

“I’ve been waiting for him for 720 years,” he admitted, looking her straight in the eye as the kettle sat on the stove.

She raised an eyebrow at that information. “You don’t look it.”

“I’ve aged a bit, actually. 720 years ago, I looked 16.”

“Reincarnation?”

“It’s not the craziest thing we’ve ever seen.”

“Certainly not. So you found each other again. Who was he to you?”

“My husband, my prince, my soulmate.”

“Having a husband in those days must have been difficult.”

“Everyone who complained died on my orders, and those who tried to take him away from me were also eliminated. Maybe I just had a minor meltdown and wiped out everything in my path,” he admitted, not boastfully, but almost a little embarrassed. He continued, taking out the tea tin and cup.

“Did magic keep you like this?”

“No, this did.”

He saw Lazarus Water forming in his hand, but it looked brighter, not burning hot. It seemed somehow cleaner, and something in it reacted. The mass didn’t It flowed like water, it seemed like something Daniel shaped and then absorbed.

“The blood and flesh of our people, the Lazarus Pits are the corrupted, contaminated version. This can even make processed sausages come back to life and form a small tribe to attack you. I know from experience. It makes them so hard to kill, and they scream. It's annoying.”

“Interesting.”

“The Lazarus Pits you have are made by cracks that didn't fully close. A large amount remained, which mixed with spring water from some caves and didn't dissipate as it usually does. But until someone found them, many animals or people fell in and died there, contaminating them. That's where their madness comes from. Although not just anyone can come into contact with it, some develop illnesses because the pure version has high radiation. My advisor died at 45 from it; he contracted cancer. It made some people infertile. Madness is still an option because it further intensifies feelings and emotions.”

“So now you bleed Lazarus"

"Something like that, it's a bit capricious, that's the control I exerted over you. You have Lazarus's water in your body because of your proximity to him; you're contaminated by him. I can suggest and control those in that condition, but I can also cure Lazarus's madness. That's what I did with Jason; I can expel him from the system."

"And he knows it."

"He remembers it; he always had magic."

I turned off the kettle seconds before it screeched, starting to prepare the tea without asking, even though I saw the tin of loose-leaf tea. I know my son has one of his favorite teas. The sugar bowl floated to the table, as did the jar of honey. The refrigerator opened, and the milk came out—all at my disposal on the faux-marble island, a complete demonstration of my powers.

“My biological parents… loved their experiments and research more than anything. I had an accident with a fissure they wanted to open. They thought they knew everything. Humans are so egocentric, believing they know everything and have everything under control. The accident made me different, very different. I had too much power. Jason was something like that too. I was too gentle; I didn't like killing, but I could rule because Jason knew how to fight.”

“So you sought him out?”

“An… oracle told me I would see him again. I just had to wait. I don't always surface, but sometimes I do. The last time was a few years ago during the witch hunt. I came to Gotham just for tourism, really, and I found him.”

“You could have killed the Joker in a better way.” That clown had certainly gone too easily.

“Yes, actually, I could have killed him the way he deserved, but doing it the way I did gave me every advantage to mess with Batman. Whatever he does, he loses. Besides…”

He handed the cup to the one… She removed the tea leaves with a small saucer and spoon, then tore at reality, if you could call it that—a portal that shone brighter than Lazarus. She could see what she could only describe as hell: formless beings tearing the Joker apart again and again. The Joker would heal, only for the beings to tear him apart once more in a carnage that seemed to have no end.

"I think that's better."

She nodded, taking the cup and finishing the brewing. The taste, the shrieks of pain and pleading, the small crack closed as if it had never been there. Daniel then stared at her.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’m listening, Daniel.”

“Lazarus Pits only grant a false, flawed immortality, as I suppose Ra’s al Ghul has noticed. Seeing as Batman is a pathetic excuse for a father to my husband, I clearly wouldn’t offer him that. You’re not your typical mother, but you couldn’t be, given who your father is and the environment you were born into and have lived in your whole life. But you love your children, you’re sincere. Have you done questionable things? Yes, but at least you haven’t betrayed my husband. You even told him you wouldn’t allow him to have just any unworthy partner. Did you relish it? Yes, but at least you told him, and he knew you would. You did it by telling him he deserved someone better, not what others did.”

“What they did was an insult, but they’ve always had that ability to make my son feel inadequate.”

“I would gladly offer you immortality, but I’m a little caught out. I have, let’s call them, responsibilities to him.” Balance. When you die, you won't go to heaven, not even purgatory. You'll go to hell. I could bend the rules a little if you were just an ordinary sinner, but you've killed many people at your own hand, on your orders. You've done things on Ra's orders. You need to improve your karma, so to speak. Appease the dead. Not that you have to be a hero, but improve things enough so I can bend some rules."

"Oh? Is that so?" Daniel nodded, taking a sip of his drink. A small glass bottle appeared between them, filled with a bright blue liquid. Something inside her reacted, instinctively urging her to take it.

If only she knew it would heal her.

“There are some shortcuts to turning karma in your favor,” she remarked, pulling a list from the drawer and sliding it toward her. “The dead love to be avenged, to get justice. You can hunt others and offer their deaths to the souls of their victims. That includes your father, Ra’s.”

“I’ve tried it. He puts my children in danger.”

“I heard that,” he hummed. “I can easily remove him from the path, but if you choose the shortcut, all these people have to die by your hand.”

“What about Damian?”

“Damian is young, believe me, you don't want to be stuck in time at 16. He can improve his relationship with Jason. He can choose when he's an adult. He already has better karma, it's not a problem, just let him grow up.”

“You'll kill my father.”

“Yes.”

“You'll help me because of my relationship with my son.”

“As long as you choose him, don't hurt him, stay true to yourself, know how to apologize when you're wrong, and try to be better, be his mother, not the excuse for a father he already has.”

“I see. And what if I don't?”

Her son-in-law smiled. “Then I can let you rot in hell. I won't even extend a hand to save you. I'll kill you and hasten your punishment. That's up to you.”

“Are you sure your elixir will work?”

“Eternity can’t just be bottled like that; there’s still a risk your body will reject it. You have to survive it, but even if you die, I can bring you back, give you something similar in better conditions than the Lazarus waters.”

“Who are the people who are your supposed family?”

“They are. I dragged them with me. My advisor may have died at 48, but I brought him back. My sisters, members of my council,” he explained.

“I understand.” He took the list. Some wouldn’t be a problem, but others would. He put the sheet away.

“And if you could continue ignoring Bruce’s calls as a personal favor, I’d appreciate it. I’m just playing a joke on him.”

He winked at him with a smile. Each sipped their drink in silence until he finished his tea. It was just right, perfect.

It didn’t surprise him that his eldest son was a reincarnation. He was aware of the “magic” he possessed. The way he awoke on his own from his tomb is just the starting point, the most obvious symptom. Perhaps that explains the small, meaningless details, remnants of a past life. He had been the only human to pass the tests of all the castes, to wield their swords. His son held back a great deal, letting his beloved's other children and his beloved himself hurt him so as never to reveal information about himself.

He was more competent than anyone thought, even if his son seemed to belittle and forget him.

"How long were they together?" I questioned. Someone who is immortal doesn't cling to a single person without a reason, not after 720 years for the promise of a maybe.

Daniel still seemed so serene, but his smile appeared a little weaker. He let out the slow sigh he seemed to be holding back. “550 years old. I was 16 back then. He was 15. He was a very handsome prince, but he could slice an opponent in minutes. We were introduced because we shared the same condition, if you can put it that way.” He took another sip of his drink, almost finishing it.

“I suspected he couldn’t die now.”

“No, actually, it takes certain things that I took care to destroy years ago. Even if that man had simply cut his throat, he would have come back. That way, I would never lose him again.”

“Even if he ever turned against you and decided to be your enemy?” Daniel wasn’t lying to her. He was sincere, in a truly strange way that she wasn’t used to. He was telling her the truth because he didn’t seem interested in manipulating her. The smile, the way he seemed so enthusiastic, a tiny glimmer of emotion

“He can kill me if he wants, my existence would be meaningless without him. I will betray everything for him, I will stand by his side and protect him, I will love him because we are soulmates.”

Her declaration is calm, but she feels the weight of determination. She nods contentedly, approving of her son's husband.

“You can call me Mother too.”

“Thank you, Mother, it will be a pleasure.”

Things were changing in the world without anyone seeming to notice.

“Next time you can call Mother. There's no need to barge in like that if we can open the door for you. We wouldn't want you to find us busy, but this time I let you in.”

“You let me in?” I asked playfully.

A dog appeared, large, with completely green eyes, even its fur looked green. It wagged its tail. Daniel pulled a huge bone out of thin air, which the dog happily snatched.

"Cujo has managed to keep the place safe, he's kept everyone out. It would be suspicious if I had a security system they couldn't figure out how to open. It would look like I was hiding something, and it's worse for them when they find nothing."

That would undoubtedly annoy Bruce and Drake, especially the latter.

"Thanks for visiting." He led her toward the exit, and as they both left the apartment, he He left the small bottle and disappeared. No ceremony, nothing, he was simply gone.

She had plans.

When he left the city, he received a series of emails with suggestions and questions about how he wanted his father to die.

His son had married someone exceptional, someone worthy who loved him.

It seemed he had nothing to worry about.

_______

He felt a little drunk, that happy, bubbling sensation fluttering in his stomach, the scents of his family filling his nostrils.

Even Vlad's scent, which was much more subtle than all the others, was there; the place smelled of happiness, this was true happiness.

After being cured of the Lazarus Pit, things slowly came back. Suddenly, Danny's Alpha scent hit him, and he almost went crazy. It smelled of sadness, loneliness, calm, relief at having him by his side. He wanted to erase all that loneliness and wanted to rub his nose to get more of him.

He perceived his own scent; it had changed. It was incredible how he could perceive more now that he was alive, perceiving vanilla cake, jasmine tea combined with strawberry, along with s'mores. My god, why did he smell like desserts? When he got annoyed, the scent that reminded him of marshmallows on a campfire grew stronger. In fact, he joked that he was a marshmallow roasted and squashed by the warehouse, and Danny laughed.

Jasmine tea, strawberry, vanilla cake, marshmallow—why was it dessert?!

Danny's scent had also changed, matured. The chocolate blended with the mint. There was something subtle that reminded him more of a thunderstorm, if that made sense, but when he closed his eyes and tried to focus on it, that's what came to mind, and finally, something he thought was crazy: bloodflowers. Now he could smell it almost everywhere in the city. It was as if it was the only thing above all the pollution and toxic fumes, Danny's scent, always close by.

It made him feel so safe, so happy, when he managed to erase the traces of pain and loneliness with too many passionate hours in his apartment. Not that it was a problem for him; he usually liked Danny to be the active one, but switching wasn't an issue either. Sometimes he just wanted to fuck him, jump on him, see that silly smile on his face when he filled him up, and other times he enjoyed being that silly until he collapsed, exhausted.

Life had improved so much, even if some bad memories resurfaced, and now he finally had his pack in one place without having to pretend.

Ellie remained clinging to his arm. Beta, he had introduced himself as Beta and had a scent of the sea, the salty breeze, and barely a hint of floral notes.

He let himself be marked by Vlad and Ellie's scents.

They've been planning where to have a nest. Vlad keeps insisting on a bigger house in Bristol to have the forest as a backup, but he doesn't want to be near the mansion. Tucker insists on an underground mansion.

Valerie has the idea of ​​finding a place that belongs to the court and stealing it. He barely pays attention because he's surrounded by his pack. He was always strange; he could still pick up on the scents and names of others even when they were dead. Now that he's alive, he feels everything.

Sam is planning his lab accident, Tucker is already looking at which buildings to buy for his company, Valerie wants a gym, Jazz keeps running his fingers through his hair, almost putting him to sleep, while suggesting policies for a good work environment. Ellie wants good food, even though everyone knows she'll continue wandering the world, and Vlad is pouting because he also wants to stay in the city with them all to play. He seems about to ask Pandora to take care of him so he can come with them.

Although he thinks his supernatural department—official name still pending—will get nervous if the city suddenly finds itself full of ghosts from the Infinite Realms.

The company name, at least, is decided: Nightingale. So when the press asks, they'll say that since the company belongs to all of them, they wanted something to match the city, so what better than a bird? They'll have the support of Vladco and some of Talia's Head companies.

She'll be able to legally pay for school for almost all the children in Crime Alley! She needs to build a new school, repair the existing ones, hire teachers—so much capital will come in that no one needs to know she's laundering money to inject even more into the projects.

They need a decent hospital; Leslie can only help to a certain extent.

Black Mask has to be killed.

Then he feels Danny arrive, settling down next to Jazz and running her fingers through he hair, tangling them.

This is paradise.

The smell of slightly burnt coffee, then sandalwood, rain, salt, anise, and sour lemon—what's angering her family? Who dares disturb their peace by bothering their pack?

Burnt meat and the smell of a lightning strike nearby, ozone in the storm-laden air.

Oh, even Danny got angry; he opens his eyes.

Tucker is the first to speak: “I found something buried in that computer.”

What could be so bad? He'd already warned them that Bruce had too many contingencies. He knew there were things against him, even though he hated them. He picks up the PDA, still surprised that that thing still exists.

He reads the contingency, not knowing despite this, he doesn't even feel like his heart is breaking. He can't feel any more disappointment in Bruce, but this—this is a new level, one he doesn't even know how to truly feel.

It's not sadness, it's almost indignation. It's excessive, sacrilege, and he's so tempted to use it against Bruce, to do this to him so he sees it's not funny. Maybe he should, but everyone would turn against him.

The anger doesn't subside in his chest, but it doesn't change.

"Modify this a little, make it so it says I was going to use it if he killed again."

"Is that all?" Tucker asked, almost offended that that was all he was being asked for.

“The interview with Lois Lane is tomorrow mid-morning. Clark will be here, so I can use this.” He closed his eyes, thinking about who should pay for this. “You can take care of it, beloved, but keep him alive. There’s still Joker gas somewhere. It would be a shame if his equipment failed him on a mission with the Justice League. You could do almost anything with that. He can’t let me down any further.”

“Keep him alive,” Jazz agreed. He was definitely starting to get ideas.

“Cassandra’s curse would suit him,” he said. He wasn’t going to think about it anymore. See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil. He has his pack. He’s safe. None of Bruce’s contingencies can touch him. “Slade could use something like that.”

His real family nodded. The bloodthirsty glow still lingered on them, but Jazz’s hand returned to him, running her cold fingers through his hair.

He didn’t need to worry because… He has to face this alone; he doesn't need to think about it because he has a pack on his side, burning with rage in his name, wanting to protect him, loving him.

Vlad hums something that feels nostalgic, something that helps him calm down. He tries to resolve the most bitter atmosphere; he doesn't need to open his eyes to see that his gaze foretells bad things for Bruce.

That's how it's always been. Bruce always sees him as a monster, as something that took the face and body of his precious dead son, a mistake, even before.

Why did he think that man ever loved him?

Probably because he was the first adult who gave him stability, gave him the opportunity to dream in such a way that it seemed like a given. He had been a father he could remember better, better days, happier days at the beginning. He had isolated him, pretending it was for his own good so he couldn't escape like Dick.

No, in reality, the truth is that Bruce had loved him. Perhaps even now he loves him in a twisted, corrupt way, one that could only hurt him. He could feel it more easily the last few times he patrolled nearby and went to the cave; it was the worst part of all this.

Bruce loved him, very much, as he loved his other children, but that love was useless.

Bruce loves him, but he hit him harder than he ever hit the Joker.

Bruce loves him because he even tried to invite him to baseball games last year. Bruce loves him when they manage to eat Batburgers on the rooftops; he's always there when he has a spare moment with that ridiculous bag of food, as if that erases everything else.

Bruce loves him, but after a shootout he got involved in to save a man, he decided he was too reckless because he chose to hide his injury and decided against being legally revived again.

Bruce loves him, but he still almost slit his throat.

Bruce loves him, but he treats him like a rabid dog, a danger to everyone and himself.

Bruce loves him, but he never trusted him.

Bruce loves him, but that doesn't really help; it seems to bring him more trouble. Maybe it would be easier if he truly hated him and considered him just another scoundrel.

Between Bruce and him, his brothers will choose Bruce, although sometimes he understands that, he really does, but they don't even trust him to have a relationship.

Talia always said that her brothers and Bruce had the ability to make him feel inferior, which was insulting, as if Talia al Ghul, who could ever have a child—one she herself chose to call her own—would be worthless.

Talia also often complains that Damian has preferred her so much over Bruce that she can't even maintain a shred of respect for him.

Always saying that he shouldn't hold back.

Ducra would call him stupid for letting them make him feel that way.

The truth is, he can't stand being alone. He sabotages himself because he can't trust that he's doing things right. He tries to protect himself; all he's done this whole time. Too cowardly to let his guard down, attacking, begging—he hates it.

He always chose them.

They will never return the favor.

Is that love? Was that the only kind of love they could give him?

He doesn't need that mediocre, conditional love anymore. He will no longer be deceived. He will remain in this temporary nest, but surrounded by those who choose him, those who waited with her husband, who had hope, who longed to see him again and would wait for him.

His pack, his family who took him in when he was lost and dead, with nothing but a few memories, not even his name. They loved him without having anything, they never used him, only to live, to exist, seeking a little happiness each day, to have fun.

He will stay with those who choose him.

He will build a larger nest for his whole family, he will learn to let go of the others.

He will let them decide what they want to do. He will not speak of it, he will not listen, and he will not see anything because he no longer has to fight alone.

The morning arrives without incident, documentation ready, no script prepared, since the interview was given to Lois simply because she is who she is. It's not "official," but if she decides not to publish the interview, that's fine too. It's more of a "just in case" arrangement; what do others know that they can't manipulate? That's what happens with Lois Lane. She's married to Clark Kent, who just happens to be Superman, but she doesn't owe anything to anyone. She'll write about whatever she believes in and will be much more objective.

She's self-made. The awards she's won are due to her own determination, and Clark has never interfered in his wife's affairs or beliefs. That's why they gave her the opportunity, because she decides what to ask and whether what they gather will be made public or not. It could benefit the Bat-Sympathizers, or it could just add another layer to the problem. Bruce can't touch what Lois does, even if she's helped in the past. There's a reason why Bruce always chooses Clark and not Lois, even though he respects her.

He also carries everything because Clark is always on Bruce's side, but he's not someone without opinions. He can disagree with him, and above all, he's too good at his job not to know how to find things. If he wants to gain ground, he just has to point the way.

He's also the first to realize that Bruce is too unstable. Madness was never unlikely for Bruce, and above all, Bruce is too closed off. He couldn't ask his supposed best friend for help.

Tucker felt a little cocky about something, but he wasn't going to ask why. He would simply answer as honestly as possible and let his pack handle things.

The meeting place was a small event hall, the smallest room in the building. The only decorations were the chairs and the single table with various snacks and bottles of water. Piano music played softly in the background. The walls were cream-colored, and there was a vanilla air freshener. They arrived five minutes after the other couple had already arrived.

He felt Danny give his hand a light squeeze. He looked at him and relaxed. Nothing could touch him. Everyone else was also nearby, invisible, just waiting to intervene if anything went wrong with Superman.

He didn't need anything else.

_____________

I had to delete some parts because I got way off track. I deleted parts, but it's still very long. The worst part is that at first I thought I was going to finish it here, but I kept writing and writing and writing, and part three is already about 10,000 words. I feel like it's not over. Suddenly I decided to expand everything, and now I'm afraid to write a fourth part… I don't know how to write a confrontation… I need to write it.

I realized the timeline is a bit confusing, so here it is: Dead on main (dead or alive) they get married for the first time when Danny turns 50. By then, Danny and Jason had already been dating for 34 years!

They reign together for 516 years.

Danny waited for 262,941 days, which is 720 years, 4 months, and 19 days.

Danny is 1286 years old!

I have an extra with loose scenes from this, and I don't know what to do with it.

Jason (23 years old) and Danny reunite in March. They officially start dating on May 6th.

The Batfamily finds out about Dead on Main at the end of August. They begin spying on them on September 9th and finish on September 23rd.

The Joker is finally killed on the afternoon of September 30th.

In Dead on Main, they get married after midnight, so it's officially October 1st! They spend a few days holed up in their apartment.

Bruce breaks in on the afternoon of the 4th, and on the 6th, he has Zatanna analyze Jason from a distance so no one notices. He also goes to the apartment.

Vicki's interview airs at noon on October 8th, where the videos that ruin Dick and Tim's reputations are also released. Bruce goes back without the others knowing and asks about Talia.

Jason and Duke talk.

The posts from the people who tried to date Jason are released, and he argues with the other Batkids.

11 Bernard leaves Tim

12 The Masters arrive! Talia secretly returns and secretly leaves.

13 Interview between the Kents and dead in main. October is busy for everyone, but then Part 3 happens between now and mid-November.

Part Three is a lot of world-building; I got excited. Spoiler alert: Red Hood's thugs are much more competent, and the magical city of Gotham, along with the very magical Jason Todd, is a must-see.

Anyway, I haven't even been able to write anywhere that Ellie isn't a clone, or at least not entirely, of Danny. Actually, I initially wrote Ellie out of habit, but I was left with the idea that she didn't exist, and then when I reread it, there she was. It was like, "Damn, I'm too sleepy to edit this." So, originally, Ellie wasn't supposed to sneak in here, but now she is, and we love her.

Sam died in the middle of a protest; it makes more sense in that context. Tucker died at 48 from cancer, and ecto-contamination left Jazz infertile. Valerie doesn't even speak in this, but she's here in spirit *wink*

Dan was locked in the thermos before Jason appeared, so he had no idea who he was when he escaped, caught Jason, Danny saves him because there's another fight, and then Dan ceases to exist.

Dan would be annoyed that he didn't get his soulmate and Danny did, but he's also curious because if they're the same person, then Jason should be his too, but he isn't.

Anyway, I'm realizing that this is the only time I'm writing from Jason's perspective because part three is full of everyone but Jason's side. Maybe part four will be Jason's narration? I don't know yet.

I actually got distracted because I thought of something else that didn't save completely the first time, and I'm going to edit it because I went back to the old method. My long notes, oh my god, I deleted things and according to Word the document is almost 24,000 words.

Okay, goodbye.