Warnings, this is VERY long, Bruce is a mess, the Batfamily is going through a rough patch, Jason has low self-esteem, Danny is his own warning (?) English is not my language, it's just me and a terrible translator.
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It doesn't surprise him that Jason's family suspects him. Technically, in a way, Jason is the cause of the situation in Gotham. His existence now breaks preordained destinies. With every step, with every breath, things in that world change now that he has Hortensia.
If someone else had done that, any other god or deity, they would receive criticism from some beings. For starters, the Ancient of Time would be annoyed that someone was altering his timeline, but his mother, Clockwork, simply looked at him, shaking her head affectionately, stroking his hair, putting down one of her mirrors, and continuing on with her business. His other mother, Pandora, kissed his temple and wrapped him in a blanket embroidered with gold threads. His father, Nocturn, looked at him, realizing he had used some of the Dream Sand. The Ancient of Dreams said nothing and gave him a little more sand to replenish what he had already used, even a little more. (Although the sand he used was from his own supply.)
Some of the palace's regular visitors heard about it, didn't comment, and others hadn't noticed; it didn't matter.
Frostbite had explained it to him long ago: everything belongs to the Infinite King. Everything was already his, both what was newly born and what was dying. All dimensions were his. Attaching himself to a specific dimension? There was nothing wrong with that; he was simply paying more attention to something that was already his.
He remembers thinking then that coming to feel that everything belonged to him was dangerous, insane. All existing lives couldn't be his. He couldn't have everything; it was overwhelming. For the ancients, the fact that something belonged to them was natural in a way. That knowledge that they had something of their own, something to fight for and something to use. They didn't understand why that possessiveness was frightening. Ghosts, in general, didn't understand why they were frightening.
"It's yours because you earned it, because you fight to keep it. It wasn't given to you. You fight for it, and it's yours," the Yeti had said.
Everything belongs to the Infinite King, What could he possibly want who has everything?
Pariah apparently didn't understand. Since the crown was his, everything was his. Perhaps he felt he hadn't earned everything? Perhaps it was his need to control and humiliate others, perhaps it was simply his nature. A tyrant couldn't be content simply to decree that everything was his; he needed to conquer it even if it already was.
No one said anything about him finding something to do in his free time (at one point, it infuriated him that people thought he saw people as pets or toys. That had been his family, those were his friends, that city… but things changed, and it was better to think of those people as objects). For such an efficient king, for someone who rules with balance, a just king, the prosperity he dreamed of, why would they tell him anything when he gets distracted?
He's just a good boy who takes care of his things. The gifts he's given, and the ones he likes, are a treasure.
With the few believers he currently has, he tries not to have too many, not even 10 at a time.
He pretends not to notice the obvious pattern; no one criticizes him for his small group of believers.No one should; he's been guided to these believers.
Princess Dorothea asked him for a favor. An object had fallen into another world: "So you can breathe a little and relax from work for a while, little king."
In a world where fantasy was the norm, where people were born with powers, a lonely boy was born without a Quirk, but his heart was that of a hero. The world expected him to give up. Someone so useless couldn't be a hero. But the boy had so much kindness, so much selflessness and strength…
[It reminded me of the boy who was desperately trying to save them all. It reminded me that it wasn't really his responsibility; it was negligence. His death was caused by negligence, but I had to do something. I had to save them all. It reminded me that no one was grateful, just as that blond boy wasn't grateful for being saved. It reminded me of how the adults scolded him because he couldn't help it, for having saved others.]
This had to be the story of how that boy becomes a great hero, the number one hero. So he gave him a dangling earring: "Angel." An almost godlike power, a jewel obtained from Desiree, for the boy who desired all the quirks, and then get everything you wish for.
[Touch to copy, modify at will, keep it, or give it to him if you see fit. Touch, modify what already exists, make it more friendly. Touch and delete if it's too dangerous.]
Don't let fear infect those around you. He gave him his blessing, and the child wept with gratitude.
The following believer, at Frostbite's suggestion, found interesting books in a magical world.
The Boy Who Lived, what an atrocious epithet.
A prophecy, two possible candidates, so two children are left "orphaned": one, with his parents still alive, but mentally too damaged. The others have been betrayed and murdered in front of their baby.
[A feeling of envy briefly welled up in his chest: the true love of a mother saving her child, the love that must somehow save this child; at least someone will die for you, even if you're not special yet; at least someone loved you more than anything in this world.]
Friends become family, brothers in all but blood; even if they sometimes don't get along, even if they're totally different, the friends this boy makes will truly remain by his side.
[Silly fights escalate, boredom poisons their relationship, guilt becomes a right, a burden, he's the only one who died, he shouldn't drag them down any further... he lets them go, but they don't come back, he gave them what they wanted, but they didn't come back]
This boy who will be loved by death, upon meeting her like those before him... his home life is horrible, so he turns to her. Before starting third grade, he fixes some things, removes what taints him, the son of the prophecy, gives him a bracelet. Specifically, "Lily" he chose it because she shares his mother's name!
He doesn't pray to her often, though he hears her rant and gossip when she talks to him at the small altar she made for him. He often writes her letters, which brightens their correspondence.
Surprisingly, Undergrowth leads him to the next one. That one was more confusing. Although they get along better now, it's still a little strange, but it was to look for a spider, more specifically the corpse of a spider actually.
That's a consummate hero. It's heartbreaking because he's so unlucky it hurts. It hurts to see him. It hurts to see how he struggles, how he's loved despite everything, how he clings to his loved ones only to have them taken from him, how he doesn't give up. He's so young, he's young. Oh, ancients, this hero is so young.
[He has so much future ahead of him, so much to live for. What a clever little genius you are. You try so hard. You have so much power that you try to contain. You wish you could hug someone tightly, but it's too strong. Your senses go crazy so easily, but you smile. The friend in the chair and the activist girl. A great responsibility because this power must be used well, because bad things happen if you're mediocre. You mend your own wounds, lie to your family, lie and keep lying, but then you can tell the truth. Then they're still by your side... only death can separate you.]
It hurts so much.
So he has to help, he stops time for this boy who's fading away, suffering in the arms of his father/mentor. He gives him a ring, "Bella," to wear on his pinky finger. This boy needs more luck.
He doesn't speak to her solemnly; in fact, it seems more like a podcast that relaxes him and makes him laugh.
His newest believers are the most curious. Maybe because no one actually chose them, because he stuck with them.
He wonders if Ellie insisted so much that time because she wanted to catch little Harpy or if she just found it entertaining.
He loves his daughter, he loves her, he loves her so much that sometimes he wonders if he somehow resents her and convinces himself that he does. He loves her, he cares for her, he wishes she would stay home, that they could live together as father and daughter or whatever their relationship is.
He wishes Ellie would call more often, that she would miss him more, that she would seem to miss him.
(Sometimes the crown felt like shackles, like a cage she couldn't escape. Whether she did anything or not, it would still be there.)
Ellie gets into trouble sometimes, rarely does she just not get over it, and when it overwhelms her, that's when she calls out to him. When she feels the unease, the impending sense of calamity, her head fills with despair and she's searching for her baby, she needs to find her baby.
Sometimes she feels she's hurt but not in mortal danger, she hears her like a kitten crying softly from its hiding place for its mother. Then she drops everything she's doing to make sure her baby doesn't disappear.
Ellie likes street children. She prefers them to adults or children with families. It would be better if she understood that for those children, her living situation is hated. For Ellie, a spirit, a traveling ghost, she can't stand staying in one place for too long. The idea of belonging to something fixed isn't pleasant; she needs to get out, see more places, more people, a new adventure.So the idea of staying home, living with the same people for too long, belonging to something, not being completely free makes her core feel sick.
It's the selfish part she undoubtedly inherited from Vlad; the part of her that can only tolerate being attached to him isn't enough.
So Ellie landed in Gotham. She liked the street kid who saved her. "He reminded me of you, you know?" Knowing her little Harpy, the part that reminded her is that she's a mother hen to little kids.
Jason Wayne prays to her with a little more solemnity and mischief. he rewards him with one of the strongest because he was able to glimpse his possible future. The light of Gotham that hides his pain and will one day be killed…He gives him “Azalea,” the queen of slaughter.
[He jumps as if flying, the feeling of freedom, the feeling that he will achieve something, hasn't happened yet, it hasn't happened yet, but if this boy one day steals those tires… this boy who already buried his dreams in life, survives, longing for things to be different, for a mother who survives and a father who finds a better path, what a foolish boy, he feels too much, he is so transparent, pretending that everything will be okay but yearning for a family]
Giving Azalea away was impulsive, sentimental, a little different from the others, because he didn't expect him to grow attached to him. So he returned, told her he could pray, and Harpy listened, fearing that one day her family would discover the secret. They share a secret, and he will protect it, but it was impulsive.
And his Harpy brought him another version of himself.
Red Hood
Almost everything that could go wrong did go wrong for Jason. He's falling apart, questioning himself more than once if existing was worth it, if he mattered at all, if he was doomed in some way.
[Always failing, wants to be loved, wants his family, but it seems impossible, so close and yet so far, misunderstandings pile up, always fighting for the love that doesn't seem to reach him until he feels alone with the people around him]
Stopping his ramblings, he continues checking what he can do. He needs the perfect world so they can appreciate what they have.
He feels offended. They wanted Jason to be closer, to stay home, but now they avoid him. What more do they want? He snorts, but he seems to have found the right universe.
Fine, it's just a matter of moving things a little to the left.
_______________________________________
He feels miserable with himself; it's been three months since the Joker's death. He should be happy; he wants to be happy, but he can't.
Everything in him wants to blame Jason. His first thought is that Jason is to blame, that Jason did this, but he knows better.
Jason wasn't even there; he was in the cave, being entertained by Duke and stopped by Cass. Jason was in Bristol! It's not a 78-step plan, it isn't, not when he remembers the breakdown his son had.
The laughter that gives way to tears, Cass described as relieved, scared, disbelieving, yearning, and grateful.
After some time alone, he started coming home more, staying longer, and he should be happy. But he can't get it out of his head that Jason is to blame, that Jason killed Joker, Black Mask. How responsible for the Scarecrow, Luthor, and Bane incident must be. Jason was less than three miles from Riddler when one of his traps failed and he ended up electrocuted.
He wants to accuse him, but he has all the evidence that he didn't do it.
Her son was right; he always thinks the worst of him, he's biased, he's unfair. This is the turning point when she realizes she's being cruel to her son, that Jason is right. He's not the only one, actually; this mistrust spits in their faces. Tim keeps investigating because something is definitely going on; it has to be Jason's fault somehow, or he has something to do with it. Barbara also seems uneasy because her investigation clearly favors Jason's innocence, but she doesn't feel right about Jason being innocent. Even Cassandra seems to doubt herself, because she's always read guilt into Jason, but if not in this, then why?
Stephanie and Duke are uncomfortable.Damian seems confused that it's not Jason's fault.
And Dick has been yelling at him for never being partial to Jason, scolding them for still having doubts when Tim and Stephanie were there during black mask incident. Then Tim defended himself by saying that Dick himself had doubts too but felt too guilty to admit it.
Be that as it may, Alfred is just disappointed in all of them for this.
He wanted Jason to stop using live ammunition -> Jason had only used rubber bullets for a long time.
He wanted Jason not to kill the Joker or some other rogue -> Jason hasn't killed anyone, not the Joker. He wasn't even close; the whole town saw it!
He wanted his son to calm down -> Jason has calmed down more since the Joker's death; he doesn't start fights with any of his siblings or with him.
He wanted his son to be at home more -> Jason spends three or four days a week, has dinner with them, sometimes breakfast with everyone, bakes a lot with Alfred, and is sure he's gaining just a little weight from the pile of cookies or cakes Jason is baking. If he's not in the library reading, he's not even trying to provoke him anymore!
Alfred keeps making comments about how they should legally revive Jason because their son has been saying something about school.
He has everything he wanted and he's not happy.
The blame has always been a partner who lives and sleeps in his bed all the time. But this is a different kind of blame. He's never considered himself a good father, he's made countless mistakes, and he keeps making mistakes. This is just another one on the list.
Dick has tried to smooth things over; the movie nights he always wanted his brother to attend are uncomfortable. His son isn't stupid, but he's putting up with his nonsense more than usual.
Now it's his other children who are making excuses.
Alfred becomes a little more passive-aggressive as the days go by.
The knowledge is obvious, routine, and by-the-book. But it makes them uncomfortable, but they don't know how to deal with something so... like this?
He recognizes a family system with a scapegoat.
As if his family couldn't function if Jason stepped out of the box they've assigned him, as if they needed him to be the black sheep for everything to be okay.
It shouldn't be this way. When he thought he wasn't being biased toward Jason, he thought he was letting him get away with it, that he allowed him too much, but given the evidence, it's clear that's not the case. Jason could do anything he wants and still not be happy.
Jason never seems to win, damned if he does, damned if he doesn't, and he knows it will reach a critical point.
Damian didn't seem worried; as he had said, it was only a matter of time before his second son exploded and went back to being himself and everything would go back to normal. Even if he's innocent, he'd get fed up and go back to treating them the way he was.
That opinion seemed to guiltily reassure the others. Jason couldn't stay calm for that long; he'd get angry, yell, and push them away again.
He doesn't want to get to that point because then it'll be obvious, everyone will know, Jason will know. That he could give Bruce everything he wants and it still wouldn't be enough.
He shouldn't be relieved that his son won't be joining the patrol some days. He shouldn't allow everyone to wait for the catastrophic outcome just because the familiar is comfortable and the unknown is bad.
Tim stands his ground, using Jason's slow eye color change as a sign that something is up.
He's been looking for magical clues, though Jason wasn't around either.
The last encounter with a mage was handled by Duke. The last group of cultists was stopped by Tim, Stephanie, and Cassandra. The last cursed object was secured by Dick and Damian.
His children even plotted to have some steal the old rosary Jason obtained on his dimensional journey, and the other half entertain him. But Zatanna and Raven refused; it was just an ordinary old rosary, just old wooden beads.
Alfred scolded them for it, and also for allowing it.
"Master Wayne," he shuddered under the butler's stare and monotone.
"Tell me, Alfred."
"This old butler has decided to take a week off."
"Oh..." They were really getting on his nerves if he wanted to take a week off after his usual schedule. "Okay... may I ask what your plans are?"
"Of course I can ask, since you're my boss." He wanted to groan in sadness; his adoptive father wasn't happy at all. "I've decided to take a short trip to New York. I'll go with my grandson. He's gotten tickets to some plays we want to see on Broadway."
"That's great. They've always loved it... They can use the Jet."
"Mr. Wayne, are you implying that the salary I've earned with my hard work isn't enough to take my grandson on a short trip to New York?"
"No, of course not."
"I thought as much." He was underestimating how truly upset Alfred was.
"Then...? "
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow afternoon, sir. I expect the mansion to be intact for my return."
"Yes, Alfred..." The old man didn't even say goodbye as he left his office to get on with his business. He sighed; more difficult days lay ahead.
Blinding Sun🌞: So, Alfred is cooking a lot, but it's all the dishes we hate.
Purple Waffles💜: Glad I don't live there right now!
Blinding Sun🌞: He even bought that juice flavor you hate.
Purple Waffles💜: Damn! 😭💔
The Favorite: He's really upset :(
200% Caffeine: We're not even going to dinner tonight because he's doing that?
Blinding Sun🌞: He asked Bruce for a week's vacation and is leaving the day after tomorrow
🪽Hot Boneless 🪽: He's so upset if he asked Bruce for a week's vacation outside of his normal vacation.
The Favorite: =(
Dog Whisperer: Has Pennyworth said where he's going?
Blinding Sun🌞: I didn't find that out, Alfred said he was too busy
👑Real Brain: He's going to New York. He's booked two first-class plane tickets for Jason and him. They're going to see some Broadway shows, operas, and a ballet
Purple Waffles💜: Wait! So that's why he asked Cass and me if we had days off?
The Favorite: 💔
🪽Hot Boneless 🪽: He asked me too! I told him I couldn't! 😭😭 Because I have responsibilities?! 😭😭😭💔
200% Caffeine: Is he leaving for a week??? Who's in charge of the alley??
👑Real Brain: Kate, Selina, and Harley. In fact, from what we talked about, Tim, tried to tell you, and he was going to ask about Duke, but he's in exams.
Purple Waffles💜: This is crap. I wanted to see SIX The Musical 🙃😭
Alfred and Jason take a taxi to the airport.
The final verdict is that if they don't find anything suspicious on Jason's territory that week, they'll have to admit they're terrible people, that any suspicions that Jason is guilty or knows anything related to the strange things that have been happening in the city for months are merely their prejudices about him.
Tim and Damian bond even more surprisingly because this challenges the status quo, and they only have a few days to close the case.
Bruce tries to stay away from Crime Alley, as stipulated.
It took them almost three days to check all of Jason's safe houses, with nothing relevant, nothing to prove their suspicions. They check everything, every corner, every alias, every available electronic device, even books in case something is hidden in them, and nothing.
Tim has to admit it's just his prejudices, that he'd actually rather Jason be doing something against the family than the idea that Jason is trying to be nice to them. Even though she'd said she forgave him and knew him, well, apparently not.
The only regrettable thing was a phone with a disposable Reddit account asking for advice. In addition to more recipe books with dishes everyone might like, the safe houses also had more supplies for everyone, favorite drinks and snacks, new clothes (at least two sets of underwear), blankets, and more pillows. That was the only incriminating thing, the only out-of-place and new thing that made them feel like garbage.
(“Heck, there are even those silly chocolate bars Bruce swears he doesn't love!”
“Why does he have a waffle iron in almost every safe house?”
“Not to mention bath and sanitary products, because he knows my brand of tampons?”
“Where did he get these silly baskets? He decorates them himself?!”
“Does he have a list of all our favorite restaurants in the area and their phone numbers written down?”
“I have to admit, this product sounds… interesting…”
“Because he has a supply of my meds?”)
They were bummed out on patrol when it happened. He's the brother of the same guy who caught Jason a few months ago.
It's ridiculous, really, because he catches them all.
When they wake up, they're on the roof of an apartment building.
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When Bruce opens the library door, Jason is there, reading. He approaches him, sitting on the couch across from him. Their single couches now matched.
Jason looked at his adoptive father, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. Bruce seemed tense, serious, which made the young man grip his book tighter, preparing for an argument or a fight.
"Jason, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."
The young man simply sighed, closed the book, and set it aside. "Okay, say it," he said defensively. It was always like this. It was exhausting to keep up with this tangle of questions and accusations.
"How did you end up in that warehouse?"
The question took him by surprise. It wasn't what he expected. Seriously, what was it about? Why so suddenly? Everyone had been acting strangely since he and Alfred returned from New York.
They looked at each other in the heavy silence. "Excuse me?"
"How did you end up there, Jason?"
"Does it matter?" he replies, much more apprehensively. "You know, right? Haven't you grown tired of telling everyone?" He's accusatory, he's harsh, there's resentment in every word.
"It matters, because I never asked you... I want... I need to know."
"Of course it's always about you." There's anger and resignation in his words. He crosses his arms, and the look he gives his former mentor reflects much more now.
They no longer have that Lazarus green tint; his eyes have returned to that blue, the blue of the ocean. The stormy ocean that has always tormented Bruce in his dreams, nightmares, and hallucinations.
But Jason doesn't get up; he just sighs again, tired. "Does it matter?" he asks again. "Whatever I say, you won't even listen to me. You wouldn't believe it if you decided long ago that that's what happened." There is so much bitterness emanating from his words, from his gaze.
"I'll listen to you, I'll really listen to you," he promises, though inside he's dreading the whole situation.
Jason seems to realize that this time he's being sincere. Somehow, he shrinks a little inward, taking his time. "Sheila tricked me, sold me to the Joker because I owed her money? And she smoked in a corner of the warehouse while he beat me."
There are no words, just silence, the son looking at his father, watching and waiting for the judgment that always follows.
It's always been this way.
It always will be this way.
"At some point, I regained consciousness. The Joker had already tied her up there, left us there… so she yelled at me to help her. I wasn't tied up anymore, but my fingers were too broken to defuse the bomb, so I crawled to free her." He tries to pretend it doesn't affect him anymore, that he doesn't care anymore, but his gaze is as expressive as ever. That's why he's wearing a helmet, he remembers in a corner of his mind, so transparent it's annoying. "It wasn't fast. I tried to open the door, but it was locked from the outside. My hands were useless, and I knew it was the end, that you wouldn't make it in time. In fact, I worried about you for a moment, though you'd get over it... The truth is, I always knew I'd die young. I'm a street rat, all the kids in Crime Alley know that. We're not supposed to live long. I knew I'd die young. I knew I'd fight to live, but it would be... A stray bullet, some rouge, or the weather that would kill me. That's why I never held a grudge against you for not getting there in time," he confessed, trying not to exaggerate. "So when time was up, I tried to cover for Sheila. You know the rest. I died."
Bruce looked stunned, with no reaction other than widening his eyes. Even the tension in his shoulders disappeared. "Why?"
"Why what? Because I still tried to save Sheila? I didn't do it because she was my biological mother. I did it because she was Robin. Because that's what you taught me, and I believed that was the hill I chose to die on."
Even if Robin's magic had run out, even if for years his sacrifice, his death had been tainted with lies. He died a hero, trying to save the woman who must have loved him a little, the woman who gave birth to him, but ultimately the woman who sold him out to the most vile of beings because he was Robin, because Robin is the light in Gotham, because he would always save everyone.
"Why did you think I'd get over losing my son?" There's more emotion there; it's not accusatory as usual, just genuine confusion and pain. "Why?"
“Oh Bruce” there’s so much pity in the way it falls from Jason’s lips, so many emotions in the pained smile Bruce sees on his son, as if he were stupid. “If I had known you loved me, that you truly cared for me, if I had truly believed you, I wouldn’t have even sought out Sheila.”
That somehow breaks something, they’re not sure what, but it does.
“What?...”
“Bruce, you were everything to me, but you never understood me. You never truly looked at me. You saw my anger, but you never saw the frustration, my desperation to truly help. You could never understand,” he says, more fluently. “You never trusted me. I’ve always been your biggest mistake. Reckless, violent, stupid. The one who needed to be saved from the darkness. You failed, and despite everything, I loved you. In truth, loving you has been the biggest mistake of my life.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“When Felipe slipped, you didn’t even hesitate. You accused me. You were angry, just a street rat that you tried to save because obviously since my father was a criminal and my mother a drug addict, I would be just another criminal. Of course I should have killed him. Your attempts to save me failed, and I was a criminal, not your son.
"I... no."
"It had nothing to do with Felipe being drunk and high. Someone like that obviously has the best balance. It's not like he could slip by tripping over his own feet."
"Jason."
"We kept fighting. You never believed me. I would have sworn under the lasso of truth, but surely you'd say that since you taught me to evade him, I could get away with it. Then that would be further proof that I was a criminal, a vile murderer," he mocked, finally standing with his smile, enjoying his former mentor's expression. "Then one day you said, 'I don't need your teenage problems. You're not my son.' You finally came clean, right? The theater was over. You took Robin from me shortly after."
"I wasn't saying it, Seriously, it wasn't like that," he barely defended himself, a weak murmur.But Jason just shook his head, so calm and more confident.
"You kicked Dick out of the mansion, and he was the only one you loved, your precious Robin, the only one none of your other children could ever match. There's only one Dick Grayson, the only one you're proud enough to say it out loud and to his face. But you kicked him out of the house, so what would happen to me? The street rat who sullied your Robin's legacy? It was only a matter of time before you kicked me out onto the streets, and I couldn't bear it. I'd rather die than go back to that alley like that. I was afraid of what you'd do because I knew too much, and you've done worse things to other people for less. But I found out Catherine wasn't my mother. Then I thought someone might love me, that I wouldn't go back to the streets... and you... you weren't even there for me. I didn't even try to cover my tracks, but you didn't come after me."
“No… I didn't know, I just wanted you to take a break,” he stammered. “I love you.”
“Of course, your actions prove it so well,” he says sarcastically. “You buried me next to Sheila. You took away my name, not on hallowed Wayne grounds because I wasn't your son. You couldn't even wait for me to settle in my grave to have a new model, not a single charity or building named after me. You erased all memory of me from the mansion. You didn't even tell Dick I died. You couldn't even give me a decent funeral. You've left the memorial even though I've been alive and breathing for years. You used me as a fable, ‘You must be obedient or you'll be like Jason, my greatest failure.’ It was never really about you killing for me. I wanted you to kill him to protect me. And what did you do, Bruce? What have you been doing all this time?”
But Bruce couldn't answer, staring at the scar on his son's neck. Even though he'd done worse things, he'd hurt his son so much that he couldn't even list them all. "Why did you stay?" ask now
“The truth is, I’m a statistic. I always wondered why, when Willis got aggressive because of his drinking, when they fought, when he hit her, why wouldn’t she leave him? Why wouldn’t he leave? He went back to his drug-addicted wife when he could have left and had a better life. Because they both stayed because they loved each other… And I’m a statistic. I’m staying here even though it killed me. I don’t know any better, Bruce. I don’t know how to live” he confessed, losing her smile and her energy, letting the vulnerability show in her voice. “I’m staying because I love this family and because you’d never really let me go.”
“Jason.”
“You’ll never let me go. Even if I stop being Red Hood. If I retire, you’ll never let me go. You and your kids won’t let me be happy. If I leave this city, they’ll come after me. They’ll watch me like I’m an animal. Every step I take, with every person I talk to, they’ll put trackers, cameras, microphones on me. When I try to move on, make a friend, they’ll appear on my Door, in every place I am 'because they have to watch me'... I couldn't even kill myself in peace because they won't respect my damn corpse. Bruce, you've never been able to respect me, you trample on my memory... you'd look for a Lazarus Pit to bring me back to life and then you'd be offended when I came back even more crazy."
There were no more words between them. Only the revelations settling between them. The horror, the things that remained unsaid, that were implied but that they still heard.
Jason took a deep breath, taking a step back, picking up his book but not sitting back down, his hands shaking, but he didn't expect more from that conversation.
“It wasn’t my intention”
“It’s never your intention, it’s never your fault, you never asked me to love you, or all the effort I put into you, all the sacrifices I made for you, or how willing I always am to die for you and your children…and everyone always says ‘don’t be so hard on him Jason, your death tore him apart’ ‘Bruce suffered so much Jason’ ‘why do you always have to be so dramatic Jason?’ ‘why do you always have to make it about you?’ ‘get over it Todd, you died and came back you’re not special’ ‘you have no idea what he suffered when you died Jason’ ‘you have no idea what your reckless death did to this family Jason’ ‘because you can’t stop being impulsive and reckless you’ll get yourself killed again’ ‘it’s not your fault, you did the best you could Bruce’ ‘you came back wrong’ ‘you came back wrong’ it’s so bold of you and everyone else to assume that I would even try to come back to life, I wanted to wake up in my Coffin suddenly, I wanted this."
"Jason," he called again, although again, as throughout the conversation, Bruce wasn't able to get up or do anything more than say a few words.
"I won't continue this conversation. It's pointless. Why aren't you going to change the files about my death? You won't tell anyone you were wrong. In fact, you're taking too long to accuse me of lying or not having my memories straight. And before you do, I'm leaving. I don't want to talk to you for the rest of the day."
Bruce was left alone in the library, the few rays of mid-afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.He stood there, unable to do anything, the weight of his actions and the things he didn't do crushing his heart and resolve.
Oh Bruce, if any of your children truly believed you loved them, they wouldn't do half the reckless things they've done, desperate to prove themselves to you, desperate for your love, anguished at losing their place at your side if only any of them believed you loved them.
That person's words repeat in his head, with their cheerful smile, their tone of false pity, and obvious mockery of him.
Your parents must be turning in their graves. You used their deaths to be "Batman, the world's greatest detective" while you crush your children, children you never take responsibility for, but from whom you demand the impossible. But of course, you never asked them to love you, so it's not your fault.
All he can do is lament and refuse to let things stay this way, even though his way of loving is so obsessive and twisted.
[On the other side of the handheld mirror, the little king smiles contentedly, watching the man. Will this be enough to wake the man? Although he hopes it's too late to right his wrongs, the ghost has a better place to be, so he sets off.]
__________________________________
Despite everything, the ghost king, Danny, insisted that he doesn't need to do the same as his counterpart, Jason Wayne. He doesn't have to pray to him in a church or chapel. So, although he initially hid in the mansion's chapel to pray, he now hides in Wayne Manor's smallest library (there are actually four libraries in the entire mansion; the one normally used isn't even the largest, just the one with the most read collection of books).
The room is "smaller." There aren't as many shelves, the books are neatly kept. He's been cleaning the place like it's his true personal refuge. Alfred is the only one who knows he's been lurking around the place even though everyone thinks he's left the mansion.
So now he's there, in his corner, which allows him to see if anyone opens the door, but is hidden by it. The beanbag is the largest he could find; it was worth every penny he paid for it, worth Alfred's incredulous look, which the butler helps hide when he locks the door.It's big enough for him to hide and curl up in, so soft to the touch from the finest fleece fabric he could order, since it's as far away from the family area as it gets cold.But he doesn't mind, not when he can hide from the world, from Bruce and the others, but without leaving the mansion. He doesn't mind being there, wrapped in a blanket while hugging his knees and trying not to cry... but failing.
What was all this about? Why did Bruce ask him about what happened now? Why? Why? Now what? Surely he had a stupid idea in his head, and that's why he was acting strange; he must be planning something.
He felt Hortensia trying to swallow down his panic. The weight of the necklace around his neck felt like an anchor, a life preserver in the middle of the sea, so instinctively he reached out to hold her.
"Hey Jaysun."
The ghost king appeared, floating a little to sit in the air near him, but not enough to invade his personal space. He seemed worried. It's comforting to have a friendly face nearby. It's incredible that Danny considers him his "friend."
At this moment, that's welcome, because he hadn't lied before. Even if he managed to get away from Bruce and the others, they would never let him go. He'd never have the courage to stand up to the bat and his birds. Roy, Kori, Artemis, Bizarro, Rose, and Kyle, no matter how hard they tried to stay by his side, would always have to deal with the Waynes. Their lives could be ruined if Bruce and the others really tried to get past them to get to him.
Even if he left the planet, he knows Bruce. He's so stubborn, so controlling, he'd seek him out just because he can't stop being paranoid, because he's not his son, but a "something" that belongs to him. He won't let him go, but he won't let him live, nor will he let him die.
But Danny is the Ghost King. Bruce doesn't even know of his existence. Bruce has no influence over the Ghost King. Batman is nothing more than a grain of sand against the calamity that is Danny. And at some point, realizing that made him feel better, because neither Bruce nor his brothers can influence his friendship with the Phantom. They can't touch him, they can't hurt him, they can't do anything against him.
So he looks up to see him, tears still streaming down his cheeks. He doesn't even have to ask or think about it, and the shortest one is already hugging him.
Even if his skin is so cold, it doesn't matter. He can just exist in the thin arms of his god.
Danny tells him about his boring paperwork in the kingdoms, about the petty disputes he resolves, and asks about his short vacation in New York. He gets him talking, relaxing, and they return to their fun topic of comparing all the movies or shows they've seen to see if they're the same or not. As time goes by, he manages to send a message to Alfred telling him not to dine with the others because he doesn't want to see Bruce, and he doesn't have the energy to try to see his "siblings." He'll eat in his little hideout with the door closed, and maybe if his mood improves, he'll go out on patrol.
Nowadays, the alley is held up very well by his men. Without the black mask, he doesn't have to fight over territory. Most of the other drug lords and a few renegades are too busy surviving to coordinate drug, weapons, and human trafficking.
So now, when he's guarding his territory, he's focusing on the scum. Abusers of all kinds. He doesn't even have to kill them personally; he just beats them up a bit, insults them for a while, and they all start to hate him. And when they taunt him back because he doesn't kill anymore, doesn't even shoot them, when they keep bragging that the bat castrated him and lets them go, it won't be long before they die.
His people have noticed; they keep the secret. All the men Red Hood lets go now end badly. Some of them are still alive and wish they were dead.
Bad luck is a funny thing, Danny had told him.
From slipping on nothing to breaking a leg, the broken leg can end up causing a stomach infection, and a fever that doesn't go down causes death.
Others are suddenly run over, accidents at work, at home, at the bar. Some don't even die, but the results are random, like the guy from the other day. His fall down the stairs ended up castrating him. His hip is also broken, and his wife, who was already the breadwinner, whom he used to beat, is very happy because since her hip is broken, she can't go up to the bedroom. She sleeps on the uncomfortable couch. Her stepdaughter, whom he had been tormenting, now throws her pain medication at him. Who is he to stop a teenager from her petty revenge against her disgusting stepfather?
Other times, they're tormented by nightmares. There are so many punishments and tortures he can devise, and Hortensia will do just that. She'll bring the bad luck and pain that already exists throughout Gotham to the people who come to hate him, to the people who want to fight him, to die.
"Everything will be okay, Jay, I'm on your side," Danny assures.
"I'm happy to have met you," he says without looking at him. It's still surprising that he can be more sincere when the pit isn't in his head, when Hortensia makes his emotions less overwhelming.
"Me too." The little great king smiles at him, shaking his hand under the blanket for a few seconds before giving him his space.
"Are you coming with me on patrol?" he asks. He has to keep tormenting as many bastards as possible.
"Sure, it'll be fun."
Hortensia melts back into his skin to hide from mortal eyes.
A little later, Red Hood is almost fully suited up. Phantom invisibly rises and hides among the stalactites.
[Jason doesn't know why the others are acting so strange; he just wants to get out. The others can't help but look at him out of the corner of their eyes in concern. Danny can only smile; it seems his plan worked.]
Red Hood doesn't even comment on Batman's absence. Nightwing distributes the equipment and appoints himself Hood's partner. He doesn't get very far with it. Hood's boredom is too obvious. He wants to be alone. He doesn't want any therapy or another interrogation.
"Let's get this over with," he says before putting on his helmet and getting on his motorcycle.
Everyone looks at him: Dick like a deer in the headlights, Tim with all his crazy intensity. Cass waits, making a gesture that she's listening, that everyone is listening.
"What's happening in the city, the stupid accidents, Joker, Black Mask, and everyone else dying, is my fault," he admits.
"I knew it!" Tim says with a slightly manic expression, Timmy definitely needs to sleep “How did you do it?!”
"Whatever they came up with, I did it, that, every crazy plan, yeah, I definitely did it, they found out, blah blah blah, we didn't kill Jason, you're better than this, Jason, we can't trust you again, we'll be watching, let's get back to the same old programming, done, I've confessed to my evil crimes."
Tim stops looking happy. In reality, no one is happy or seems to be feeling better, even Cass looks uncomfortable, sad.
"It wasn't you," Tim says, now regretting having been happy.
"Does it matter?" he replies, tired of pretending.
"Jay… of course it matters." Dick looks hurt, takes two steps toward him, worried.
"Why do you feel relieved to say it's your fault when it isn't?" Cass's question is very important, it's difficult, she really wants to understand.
He's been sighing too much. It's actually his fault. He keeps giving Hortensia ideas. He keeps yearning for so many people to die. He keeps causing so many deaths, leaving a trail of corpses that others will eventually discover. It's his fault.
"Because it's always my fault, somehow. This time shouldn't be different. They just haven't figured out how I'm supposed to do it."
"Jay, it's not your fault," Dick insists.
But he just looks at him angrily. "Sure, whatever makes you sleep better." He puts on his helmet to end the conversation, starts the engine, and drives off.
The cold touch of hands on his shoulders relaxes him. He's not alone. He won't let the others return him to his bad mood.
(He can't see it because he's barely out of the cave, but the computer triggers an alarm. Barbara quickly investigates, showing an explosion at the Iceberg Lounge. The place has practically collapsed on itself, and the flames… they still don't know who was inside or who died.)
Most of them head to the Iceberg Lounge to help and investigate. The firefighters were already more or less close because they had put out a fire two blocks away, so the police are there too.
The Iceberg Lounge should be full of customers despite it being a weekday morning, but not this time. It seemed to be in the middle of a secret meeting between the Penguin and some other mafia leaders who were still left. Of course, now all of them, along with some thugs and other people, were dead. The few who survived were too burned, and the luckiest ones only had a lot of broken bones from the building falling on them.
Oswald Cobblepot is dead. His body is still easy to identify. He wasn't that close to the explosion, but closer to some highly flammable compound, but they still haven't figured out what it is. The surprise is Two-Face, Harvey Dent, because he's not supposed to be there. Last time they checked, he was still in Arkham, but now he's dead.
Red Hood showed up only to see the disaster and then leave after commenting, "Well, someone should make sure they don't rise from their graves afterward."
Of course, he ignored Batman's orders to stay nearby.
Nightwing just grimaced, grateful that at least the place hadn't been open to the civilian public that night, but still uneasy that another accident would take two rogues, along with a few others and their thugs. In general, some firefighters and police officers weren't even mourning this. Not that he can complain when most of the survivors have criminal records that will send them to prison as soon as they leave surgery or the hospital.
The news already knew what had happened: two more rogues were dead, Penguin and Two-Face.
Nightwing left the chaos to look for his younger brother. Oracle gave him the location of Hood's tracker; it was about a 20-minute motorcycle ride away, so he slipped away.
It gave him time to think about what had happened in the cave and at dinner. His brother wasn't stupid; he just kept silent this time, swallowing his emotions about it, saying he was responsible for everything going back to the way it was before. The truth was, it didn't matter, just like he said. The family had to function as long as everyone played their part. So Jason apologized for something that wasn't even his fault so they could all rest easy and nothing would break the status quo… He didn't want that. Everything had gotten out of control, and he didn't want to get to the point where he couldn't return.
Bruce had to admit what had happened under Alfred's annoyed gaze. Confirming their worst fears at the time, they had been wrong. Jason never tried to correct the narrative, never tried to clarify how he had died because it didn't matter. Bruce had already decided what happened and they were never going to believe him, so why waste time like this? Why tire himself out like this?
And in the cave it was the same, Jason taking the blame to get everything back to normal. He didn't even seem upset, just tired.
Leaving his motorcycle hidden, he climbed onto a rooftop to continue his search. It didn't take long to find his brother. He was hiding on three other rooftops farther away, apparently eating because he'd left his hamburger in the paper bag.
He just stood up, not even reaching for any of his weapons to threaten. He wasn't wearing his jacket, which made his strong, muscular arms visible as he crossed them over his chest.
"What are you doing here, idiot?" he asked, annoyed.
"Just catching up with you. I told you we'd team up," he tried to mediate. "You know, eating sounds like a good idea. I'll go get more food at Batburger. Do you want something?"
He then noticed something moving behind Hood. Blue eyes looked at him, frowning. It was a teenager who was using Hood as a shield, hiding from him.
There's the jacket, he thinks, as the thin arms tried to wrap around Red Hood's waist, but they were too short, too skinny, the pale hands were small. He could see the wrists so thin he mentally wanted to grimace.
The teenager was short next to Jason, swimming in the leather jacket, with pale black hair, dark circles under his light blue eyes, and his lips were twisted. It was clear he was annoyed at being interrupted.
"Hi, you too," he greeted, but the teenager just hugged Jason closer, still giving him the dirty look. "Can I get you more food too… it's all adoption bait, Wayne?" He couldn't help but say it.
Although Jason was now hugging the teenager. "This one has decent new parents. He doesn't need Brucie Wayne. He already has too many orphans."
"Momma will snap that guy's neck if he even tries to rob me," the teenager assured, even more annoyed. "Go away, you're in our way."
Jason simply nodded, amused. "You heard me, Wing, go."
"Do your parents know you're out so late with Hood?"
"Yes, they like Hood. He's my friend, and you're in the way," he remarked in an authoritarian tone, which I didn't expect from a teenager perhaps under 15. It's hard to gauge his age when he's standing next to Jason, a winged titan of his.
"Okay, okay. I know where they don't even want me. See you later, Hood."
"Try another day. Hood's mine for today."
Hood's laughter broke the tension, since if looks could kill, he'd already be dead from how badly the boy viewed him. It had been a long time since he'd heard his little brother laugh like that.
"Please, kidnap me tomorrow too," he asked the younger boy, who nodded. He finally smiled, a mischievous smile, nodding in all seriousness.
"Sure, God knows you need to spend time with better people."
"Of course you do." There was another chuckle, as if it were an intended joke between them.
Although he pouted, he left. It was better to leave Jason with one of his boys.
[Blue eyes sparkled, the boy smiled with amusement, both people returned to their evening lunch and shared a small giggle]
_________________________________
I finally remembered what flower Jason Wayne was: Azalea. Here they are~
This is practically a fanfic because of how long it is. I said to myself, "I'm going to split it up because it's too much," but I kept adding to the draft and ended up with this long post. Sorry (?).
There's a lot about Danny at the beginning, plus mentions of crossovers. Because why not? So Danny has Izuku (from the anime), Harry (from the movies), Peter (Tom Holland), Jason Wayne, and Jason Red Hood.
Izuku has "Angel" for Angel's Trumpet or Brugmansia.
Harry has "Lily" for Lily of the Valley or Convallaria majalis
Peter has "Bella" for Belladonna, Jason Wayne has "Azalea," and Jason Todd has "Hortensia = Hortense" for Hydrangea. So the pattern of Danny's followers is obvious: they are all "child heroes."
I have no imagination for nicknames, it shows in my attempt at a group chat and in "Jaysun," sorry.
Jason is starting to lose faith in his family; a certain king has been advising him ~
Danny has a strange relationship with Ellie. She's his daughter, but she rarely needs him. He can't help but resent her sometimes, which makes him feel guilty, so he doesn't call her as much as he'd like. Ellie doesn't even see anything odd about their relationship; everything is perfect for her, and the ancients are worried about their lonely little king.
I originally had a lot written about what happens to most of the Batfamily when they end up in another dimension, but I didn't like how it turned out, so I'm going to redo it for the next time I write more. This is almost a fic. I don't post it on AO3 because it's just me and Google Translate, so that's it.I also have a lot of notes about what each gem does and scribbles of what they're supposed to look like, but it's already a very long note, so I'm disappearing.
Ten months after Lena returns to National City, she makes good on her promise to bring her mother to justice. The arrest dominates the airwaves for weeks, and Lena is hounded for comments and confirmation of her involvement in her mother’s downfall. She says very little, and absolutely nothing outside of press releases.
Still, when the trial commences, Lena testifies for days on end. Maura watches powerlessly in Boston, as Lillian’s defense attorneys tear Lena’s life apart, looking for something, anything that could undermine her credibility. But while Lillian is cold, manipulative, and vastly intelligent, Lena is cool, collected, and lightyears ahead. She fields every accusation with a smug smile and a calm response.
When the guilty verdict is read, nearly a month after the trial began, Lena’s facade finally cracks. Her eyes close, and her head tips back as relief washes over her– revealing for a split second the anxiety and exhaustion that has plagued her for so long. Lillian is incarcerated at a maximum security prison, far away from both her children. The state remembers how easily she escaped custody the last time, and isn’t eager to repeat the experience.
That night, Maura calls Lena.
“Congratulations,” she says, her voice low in deference to the late Boston hour. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I could sleep for a year,” Lena replies. There’s a sound of the door opening and closing, and a muffled greeting. Maura hears a soft hey, and it’s Maura.
“Hey, Maura,” Kara says into the phone.
“Hello, Kara.” Maura then hears the smack of a kiss, and the scrunch of a hug and a faint I’m gonna go shower.
“Honestly, though,” Lena continues, when Kara moves on. “I feel good. Relieved. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but it’s a victory.”
Maura can’t imagine what it must feel like. To put your mother in prison and call it a victory. Lena isn’t a cruel person, and not vindictive as far as Maura knows. But she knows what Lillian has done in the last five years, and knows how far she’s fallen.
Her own parents aren’t perfect– Patty Doyle was a murderer in his own right. But even he had a code, one that protected a specific sphere of people that extended beyond himself. He was motivated by a need to protect his people, not by ideals. Lillian operates in a way that both chills Maura’s blood and breaks her heart. Lena only ever wanted to love and be loved. She deserves far better than whatever Lillian had done for her.
“Jane and I have some vacation coming,” she says. “What if we came to visit? Get the proper National City experience?”
She can hear Lena’s smile. “We would love that.”
—
Lena offers the jet again, but Maura can afford first class travel on a commercial flight, and manages to decline. Lena still sends a car to pick them up from the airport.
“Jesus, this woman is rich,” Jane says when they slide into the opulent towncar. It’s not a limo, but the casual elegance hints at the lifestyle Lena enjoys. “She doesn’t act it, but by god…”
“It can’t be a surprise at this point,” Maura says. Lena’s a Luthor, both old money and new, and even in Boston it carries a certain reverence.
“No,” Jane agrees, “but she’s the normalest rich person I know and if I didn’t like her so much I’d call it weird as hell. At least, Kara is actually normal.”
Maura, who has seen pictures of the large home on the coast in which Kara grew up, doesn’t bother to shatter the illusion. The car takes them to their hotel, and two gift baskets wait for them inside– fruit for Maura, and chocolate for Jane (with a winking note from Kara).
When they meet for dinner later, Lena and Kara are both nothing but smiles, and it comes as such a relief that Maura can barely keep her eyes off them. Lena giggles and laughs, and Kara’s eyes shine as they stare at her.
Which is why Kara’s abrupt departure merely thirty minutes in comes as a shock.
“I forgot something at the office,” Kara lies, vibrating with energy. Lena watches her rise, and the eyebrow she lifts makes Maura think she might call Kara out. But she doesn’t.
“Okay,” she says simply, tilting her chin up for a kiss. “Be careful.”
“Always,” Kara promises with a quick peck. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Maura and Jane share a look as Kara slips out the front door, but Lena smiles brightly before changing the subject. “Maura, I’ve been dying to hear more about your article– you said it was just picked up by the Cambridge Journal, right?”
Maura hesitates, itching to know more about whatever that whole exchange they just watched, but Jane pokes her thigh sharply to remind her that they are guests and also there for Lena’s benefit after a hard case.
So she talks, and provides the distraction Lena seems to need… for precisely three and half minutes before the restaurants broad front window explodes inwards to a cacophony of shrieks and shouts. Jane pulls Maura down, just as she did that day at the cafe, but Lena doesn’t have Kara.
“Stay down,” Jane growls, drawing her weapon. “I’ve got Lena–”
But Lena has already joined them behind the table, drawing her own pistol from her clutch as a gargantuan man smashes through the remaining shards of glass still clinging to the window frame. Maura gapes at the intense blue glow of one eye, and wonders whether she’s looking at an alien or a cyborg. Apparently National City has both.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Lena mutters, clicking the safety off the gun in her hand. “Jane, Maura. Whatever happens, stay down.”
“Lena–”
“This is not your fight,” Lena snaps, “and this is out of your league. Just stay down.”
Maura lunges for her, but Lena is already striding out to meet the inhuman threat head on.
“It’s time you came with me, Miss Luthor,” the man says, voice gravelly with dark intent.
“Not likely.” Lena’s fingers clench around the grip of her pistol, but doesn’t raise it. Instead, she fills her lungs with air.
“SUPERGIRL!”
Lena’s bellow acts a starting gun. Before she’s finished the cyborg pelts towards her. He’s impossibly fast, but the blur of blue and red that snatches him up and whisks back outside the restaurant is faster. Then the entire restaurant seems to pause, before rushing towards the broken windows to watch the fight unfold.
Maura is tempted to join them, but checks on Lena instead.
“Fine,” Lena says in response to her gentle inquiry, distracted. “Excuse me.”
Lena pushes through the crowd to exit the restaurant, lingering just beyond the threshold tracking the battle with worried eyes, though they moved too quickly for Maura to follow.
“Holy shit,” Jane mutters, pressing against Maura’s shoulder.
“It’s fascinating!” Maura murmurs back. And it is. Not just the extrahuman might on display outside, but the other patrons’ response to it. Maura still felt the urge to duck and hide, but these people seem to be at ease, utterly confident in Supergirl’s ability to win. When the Kryptonian scores a particularly hard hit against the cyborg, the crowd cheers, as though watching a sports match.
“These people are insane,” Jane whispers, even quieter than before. “Lena especially.”
Maura glances at her friend, who at that moment lurches forward, as though itching to join the fight with nothing but her bare hands. When the cyborg suffers a long blast of heat vision and quickly returns fire, Maura realizes why Lena never moved to fire her gun– the bullets would have simply bounced off.
The entire scene feels like a phenomenon of human culture, something powerful and heavy with meaning Maura can’t quite put into words.
The fight ends when black clad reinforcements arrive. One man– or possibly not a man, considering the figure boasted green skin and flight ability of his own– drops a heavy metal net over the cyborg’s head, and the weighted circumference of the net cinches tight around his ankles. Tripped and pinned, the man who had come for Lena tips over, and doesn’t rise.
The restaurant fills with applause, and the patrons slowly return to their tables to wait for the police. Maura and Jane remain at the window, and are granted a front row view of Lena striding confidently across the pavement. The reinforcements must have the cyborg under control, because Supergirl breaks away to meet Lena halfway.
It’s too far for Maura to hear the words being exchanged, but the warm handshake they exchange and the casual set of their shoulders as they speak and remain in each other’s spaces does enough talking. Any concern Maura might have had about what Supergirl might think about Lena (a Luthor) is put to rest in moments. Their stances remain professional, but the ease of their brief conversation hints at something that could even be friendship.
Slowly, Maura realizes that NCPD has also arrived, and cordoned off their street at the intersections on both ends. Both spectators and press have gathered, camera flashes nearly lost in the pulsing red and blue of the squad cars.
When Lena returns to them, reporters call her name, but she ignores them all.
“Let’s get out of here.”
—
They end up at Lena’s apartment, where ice cream and pajamas abound and Kara reports she’s on her way back with fresh cookies from their favorite bakery.
Jane’s phone rings. “Shit, its Korsak. He probably saw the attack on the news. I’ll be back.”
She trots up the stairs to find some privacy, leaving Maura and Lena cuddled up on the couch with bowls of ice cream tucked under their chins.
“Well, dinner was nice, before it exploded,” Maura says.
Lena smiles, crunching on a chocolate chunk. “Sorry. It’s kind of the opposite of relaxing. I kind of forget that it’s not exactly a regular occurence for most people.”
From the corner of her eye, Maura sees a flicker of darkness in Lena’s gaze. “He worked for your mother,” Maura surmises. “Didn’t he?”
“Yes. I wasn’t expecting something so brazen– my mother’s contingencies usually have more finesse than simply storming a restaurant.” She shrugs, and scoops up another mouthful of mint chip. “I keep thinking it was a distraction for something else, but… I dunno. I’m probably overthinking it. For all I know he’s got a busted motherboard.”
For several minutes, they sit in comfortable quiet. Maura’s borrowed pajamas are silken and cozy, and sitting barefoot on Lena’s couch with Lena pantsless in an oversized t-shirt beside her makes it all feel like a sleepover– the utterly mundane serving as an oasis in the chaos of Lena’s world.
“Hey, Maura?”
“Yeah?”
Lena swallows her mouthful of ice cream, and stirs her spoon through her softening bowl. “You know that found family we talked about, during my internship?”
Maura smiles. “Of course.”
“I just want to say… thanks for being part of mine.”
Kara arrives in the next moment, preventing Maura from responding. But later, when Lena leans into Maura’s shoulder as the fatigue of the day sets in, Maura realizes she doesn’t have to.
2017 Mazda CX-5 First Drive: Same Fun, More Crossover
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The Mazda CX-5 was officially our favorite compact crossover until this year when the latest Honda CR-V swooped in this year and stole our inaugural 10Best Trucks and SUVs award for the category. Even in its old age, the Mazda gave the more refined and practical Honda a run for our votes for the 10Best compact crossover, however—that’s how fun to drive it is. Now Mazda has redesigned the CX-5, adding refinement to the suspension, gifting the CUV more technology, and installing a classier, more practical interior, addressing the few areas we had noted could use improvement in the outgoing model. Game on. READ MORE ››
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via WordPress https://robertvasquez123.wordpress.com/2017/03/13/2017-mazda-cx-5-first-drive-same-fun-more-crossover/
