An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types
Relationship: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Talon (DCU)
Additional Tags: Talon!Dick, priest!jason, Slow Burn, Memory Loss, Slice of Life, Anxiety
There are two Gothams. There is the Gotham City established by the Wayne, the Cobblepot, and the Elliot families and known for its high population density with an even higher crime rate. There is also the Gotham City conceived by the Court of Owls and continuously governed from the shadows by the mysterious parliament. Which one is the real Gotham?
Is the common or fantastical city real? For most cities, the truth exists somewhere between fact and myth. The line is blurred in Gotham City by its history with caped crusaders and capricious criminals. Making the distinction between misconception and truth is an arduous task.
When Jason Todd discovers that one of the city’s urban legends is more fact than myth, the local priest toes the line between worlds. Taking in the wounded Talon, the two begin an unusual living arrangement. Balancing a normal life with nursing an urban legend, Jason tries to maintain his normal life - whatever counts for normal in Gotham anyway.
Groping along the wall, Jason flicked on the fluorescent lights. Stacks of donations welcomed him from the cramped and weary corner of the church that they occupied. The sight of it all spread a fuzzy emotion through his sluggish veins. Jason made a note to thank yesterday’s volunteers. Stretching his arms above his head, Jason pushed the lingering drowsiness from his body. He had work to do. Scanning the space, he mentally compiled a to-do list. The yard sale extended through the first half of the week and one of the church’s widely enjoyed events. He didn’t have time to spare even if he literally hid a nursery rhyme in his bedroom. At that thought, Jason glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the church annex he called home.
Knock, knock. Two sharp taps at the door called for Jason. His shouldered jerked up. His mind conjured faceless men and knives then turned to more common masked men and guns. Inhaling, Jason swallowed his unease. Starting with his shoulders, Jason ordered his body to relax. He edged forward toward the door, passing the clock positioned on the left wall. His eyebrows crumbled together. He read, 5:30. Is the clock off? It’s too early for me to be here, much less anyone else.
Gunman, Rogue, or Court, Jason ran through his worst options.
Jason stilled at the door. His fingers touched his cross. Closing his eyes, he almost could imagine another comforting and protective hand on his. Opening them, he arranged his expression, wiping away his tiredness. He unlocked the door and pulled it out ajar. He grinned.
