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2022-07-13
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your face, a hall of mirrors (how could i tell the difference?)

Summary:

"The problem with the Batfam is that everyone is a narrative parallel to everyone else. They're all too busy talking to their own reflections or to the ghosts that haunt them to have a real conversation with each other."

Notes:

I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's pretty experimental but I had a lot of fun with the idea.

There's a section here where formatting is used to communicate information. I've tried my best to make it accessible, including to folks who download/use screenreaders, but please let me know if there are any issues!

I'm about to go on holiday for a bit, so there probably won't be any updates for a couple of weeks. 💖

Work Text:

The mission was basically over. The villainous scientists had all been captured, the imprisoned test subjects evacuated to safety with medical personnel on their way. The only thing left to do was to locate and secure the cache of fear toxin which the lab had been trying to replicate and refine into new forms.

That, and assign blame.

“I've warned you before to watch where you're sticking those things,” Red Hood grumbled. His signature helmet was tucked under one arm, his face bare except for a domino.

“I barely clipped you!” Nightwing replied.

“This helmet is a highly advanced piece of electronics, and you put two thousand volts through it!”

“Well excuse me for taking out the guy with his hands around your throat –”

“Focus,” Batman growled, and the bickering quieted – at least for the time being.

Things between Red Hood and Nightwing had been tense since Nightwing's tenure as Batman during Bruce's absence in the timestream. They were willing to work together for a major case such as this, but the truce between them was tenuous at best, and even the smallest thing could lead to them blowing up at each other.

“I've cleared all the offices and wiped their servers,” said Red Robin, walking through the door. “The only copy of their data remaining is waiting for us in the Batcave.”

Batman nodded in acknowledgement, but was quickly distracted by sounds of a scuffle.

“Get out of my face –”

“Would you just let me –”

Then there was the clang of a metal cannister dropping out the cupboard and onto the counter, a hiss of escaping gas, and a cloud of greenish-white began to fill the room.

Jason swore as everyone in the room scrambled for their rebreathers.

“Accidental gas leak in the main lab,” Batman reported into the comms when his own mask was secure. “We are all taking fear toxin antidotes now, but this looks to be a modified formula of some kind, so it may not be effective. Red Robin, what did you discover about the work here?”

“They were trying to create a truth serum, using the hallucinatory effects of the fear toxin to elicit confessions the subjects would otherwise be unwilling to make.” Red Robin shakes his head. “The results weren't what I'd call pleasant, but the only recent death was a subject with a pre-existing heart condition. Worst case scenario we should be able to ride it out.”

“Gather samples and retreat to the Batcave. We follow standard containment procedures while Robin works on developing a more targeted antidote. Batgirl and Spoiler can stay and finish clearing the lab.” Batman ignored Red Hood's groan. “You have all experienced fear gas before, so report immediately if you notice any symptoms.”

“No, I was just going to keep it to myself and not tell you,” Red Hood muttered under his breath.

“I feel fine so far, B,” Nightwing answered smoothly. “But I'll let you know if that changes.”

Red Hood scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Nightwing's eyes narrowed. “If you have something to say, then say it.”

“Don't you ever get tired of being the good little soldier, always coming when he calls?” Hood shook his head. “Ever since you were Robin, he's had his hooks on you, and no matter how hard you've tried, you haven't been able to wriggle away.”

There's a stunned silence.

“Your life would be so much easier if you could just let go,” Hood continues. “Walk away! Live your own life!”

Nightwing shook his head.

“You think that getting angry is going to help this?” he demanded. “That's your answer to everything. But all your anger ever does is blind you, make you hurt the people we care about!”

“So stop caring!” Red Hood snapped. “You're supposed to be the Red Hood, why are you still running around after Batman?”

“You are poison,” Nightwing snarled. “You're a time bomb. I keep trying to reign you in, but the harder you try, the more you hurt people, Dick –”

Batman and Red Robin exchanged a look.

“Robin, this strain is fast-acting. Hood and Nightwing are compromised,” Batman said over the comm. “We need the Batmobile at our co-ordinates, now.”

#

Red Robin and Batman managed to wrangle the two vigilantes into the Batmobile – Hood in the front and Nightwing in the back, with the soundproof barrier up so they couldn't set each other off any further. Red Robin joined Nightwing in the back seat, rapidly typing notes on the symptoms into his wrist computer, where they would automatically be saved to the Batcomputer file on the unknown strain of toxin.

The main symptom, apart from the apparent hallucinations, was a loss of verbal filters. Dick had barely stopped mumbling since they had left the lab – presumably that was an intentional part of the truth serum. He was slumped against the window of the car, his skin ashen and bloodless, hardly moving except for his mouth.

Tim frowned.

“Possible sedative effect,” he added to the file. That would explain how Nightwing and Red Hood had avoided coming to blows. It appeared the scientists wanted to ensure that all the agitation their concoction inflicted was directed inwards.

Tim looked up again, and was shocked to find Dick staring directly at him.

“Get away from me,” Dick said, pressing himself back against the door. “You shouldn't be around me, shouldn't want to be around me –”

Tim swallowed. Fear toxin, he reminded himself. It's not me he's seeing.

“It's okay,” he said, drily. “You're going to be okay.”

Dick shook his head, and Tim couldn't tell if he'd even heard the words.

“I'm sorry,” he choked. “I let you down. You were supposed to fly free while you still had the chance, before your wings got clipped. I didn't realise that you'd find yourself falling so soon.”

Tim felt himself go very still. They still hadn't talked much about everything that had happened – Dick taking Robin away, Tim leaving…

“Nightwing,” he said, slowly. “Who are you seeing right now?”

“Robin,” Dick said, the word almost a sob, and Tim's heart ached in spite of himself. Then: “Robin, you had so many hopes that I can't live up to… I'm so sorry. I'm not who we wanted to become.”

Tim turned his head away, biting his lip.

“Emotional distress,” he typed into his notes. “Hallucinations of past self.”

He did not look at Dick again.

#

When the Batmobile pulled into the Batcave, Robin was waiting on stand-by. The first thing he noticed was Grayson, slumped against the back window. When Damian opened the door, he practically fell out onto the floor. He caught himself in a roll, most likely by reflex alone, and came up kneeling.

Then he looked up at Damian's face. Whatever he saw there, Grayson flinched. The motion was so unfamiliar Damian hardly knew what to make of it.

“Please,” he begged, sweat beading on his brow. “I know I messed up. I've been trying so hard, I just want you to see that.”

“I do,” Damian said gently, hoping that on some level Richard could hear him. “Come with me, Richard, you need to wait somewhere safe.”

He led Richard by the elbow towards the containment cells, and his normally-unflappable brother stumbled at the doorway.

“Don't make me go,” he blurted. “I can do better, I can be better – please, B.”

Damian fought to keep his breathing steady.

“You aren't going anywhere,” he said, perhaps a little more fervently than was necessary. “You are staying here, and I am going to help you.”

The words seemed to calm Richard somewhat, and he made his way slowly to the cell's cot before sitting down. Damian closed the door and turned, only to find Father watching him. Through the flat white eyes of the cowl, his expression was unreadable.

“That was kind,” Father said, quietly. “You can be so compassionate, at times… I wish I saw that side of you more.” Then he shakes his head, his expression turning dark. “But you have so much anger at the world. The violence in your heart will consume you if you aren't careful, Jason.”

At the last word, Damian's head snapped up. He was shaking slightly, but that didn't stop him from reopening the door to the containment cell, and pushing Batman inside.

“They aren't seeing you,” Drake said, in a tone of sympathy. He had just finished leading Red Hood into the second cell – it seemed wise to keep Todd separated from both Father and Grayson while under the influence. “They're always talking to someone you can't see… and no matter what you do, you'll never be as real as the ghosts are to them.”

Damian hesitated.

“Drake…” he said. “I think you too might have been affected…”

Drake gave that thin, sharp smile of his.

“I know I am, Robin,” he said. “You should mute the cells so we aren't too distracting. Don't worry, I know you can solve this. I have every confidence in you.”

Then he walked into Todd's cell with a vacant look on his face, and closed the door behind himself.

Damian might have felt more comforted if he had believed for a moment that those words might be meant for him.

#

Jason paced back and forth. The world around him was fuzzy, fading in and out of focus, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to worry about that.

Then he turned on his heel, and there in front of him was himself. Small and skinny, wearing a cape – Robin. After a moment of hesitation, the world settled, and Jason was staring down the blank domino mask of his younger self, aged shortly before his death.

For a second he was speechless. But something inside him itched to speak, to share all the advice he should have known years ago.

“You'd have been better off if you never met Batman,” he said, urgently. “You die either way, and if you hadn't been Robin… that end would have been less painful. If you know what's good for you, you'll get out now, before it kills you.”

But he wouldn't, would he? No matter what Jason said now, it was too late to save himself.

“I know,” the other him answered, faintly. “You never wanted me here. I forced myself into your life, I swallowed poison for you, and it's been killing me slowly ever since.”

Was that right? Jason couldn't remember. He did know about the poison inside though.

“You shouldn't have to keep being so brave,” he said. “You don't have to keep being a hero for them.”

“Don't make me stop!” the kid gasped immediately. “Please, I can't – it's the only thing I know how to be.”

“I'm trying to save you,” Jason snarled, desperation edging into his voice.

“Not like that, don't turn me into someone I'm not…”

Jason's vision hazed for a moment, and when he looked again the kid was bloody and bruised – already beaten, the bomb ticking somewhere, running out of time –

“Please,” a familiar voice gasped. “Please, Batman, I know I can be good enough. I can stop being selfish, if you just let me stay a hero…”

It was so close to Jason's memory, begging for his father to come save him, and somehow different at the same time. Jason knew that Batman wasn't coming.

But this time, he wouldn't suffer alone.

“I'm here,” he said, barrelling the kid into a tight embrace. “Be selfish. Forget being a hero. Do what it takes to save yourself.”

The kid was shaking in Jason's arms. He sagged suddenly, his knees giving out, and Jason sank to the floor with him, pressing his back to the wall as he pulled his younger self into his lap.

“I'm sorry, I'll try harder, I can be better…” Robin mumbled against Jason's neck.

“I will save you,” Jason promised him. “Even if it's from yourself.”

#

Dick: Dick was sat watching Batman. He knew without asking that it was his own face, under the cowl – or perhaps it was the other way around. Perhaps Dick Grayson was another mask the Bat sometimes wore.

Bruce: Batman was standing guard. His son sat beside him, hands on his knees – Robin, it was always Robin, wasn't it?

Bruce: He looked so tired.

“You were a mistake,” Dick: Dick Bruce: Robin said. “You never should have put on the cowl.”

Batman flinched.

“It was worth it, for the number of people we helped. But I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? You consumed me! You took everything, and now look at me.”

Dick: Dick's voice shook. He had sacrificed so much for the Cause. His city. His brothers. Himself.

Dick: Now he was nothing but the paper-thin mask of a smile, pasted on over a yawning void of darkness and a pair of blank white eyes.

Bruce: Jason's voice shook. He had sacrificed so much for the Cause, and now he was nothing but a mass of blood and bruises and blank staring eyes.

Bruce: Bruce had failed to protect him. It was a betrayal he would never be able to atone for.

“I'm so, so sorry…” Bruce shook his head. “I should have been there.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Dick snapped. “But you left me all alone, and I had to keep Batman alive.”

Bruce: Jason's lifeless gaze morphed into Tim's face, his gaze always so wary and sharp.

“That was never supposed to be your responsibility.”

Dick: Dick Bruce: Tim laughed, low and bitter.

“It was always my responsibility! Since day one, I've been keeping Batman alive.”

Dick: The cowl was looming over him, always above him and he always in its shadow.

Dick: Dick jumped to his feet, his pulse pounding with the urge to escape.

Bruce: Tim jumped to his feet with a scowl, and suddenly Damian was glaring up at Bruce.

“Why am I still not enough for you?” he asked. “I try and I try, but you set such a high bar.”

“You are enough,” Bruce insisted.

Dick: Dick Bruce: Damian scoffed.

“I don't push you because you're failing, but because you could be better. We all have to keep striving, every day, to be better than the one before –”

“Even if it kills me?”

Bruce: Jason's face flickered back into view for just a moment.

“Because it will save you. If I can't… when I can't. I need you to be good enough to save yourself.”

Bruce: Bruce knelt in front of his son, and lifted the cowl from his head.

Dick: Batman faded away, dissolving into the darkness, and all that was left in front of Dick was Damian.

“I need you to be good enough to save me if you have to. That's why I push you so hard.”

“I know.” Dick: Dick stared into the eyes of his almost-son. “I am trying, every day. I will keep trying. I'm not going to give up on you. Only –”

Bruce: Bruce found himself in front of a familiar figure, a memory from a night he would never forget. An eight-year-old in a bright-coloured leotard.

“Please don't go. Stay with me. Please.”

Bruce: Bruce wrapped his arms around Dick.

“Of course,” he promised. “I'll stay as long as you need, chum.”

Dick blinked.

“Dad?”

“I've got you. It's going to be okay.”

Dick buried his face against Bruce's shoulder.

“We'll make it through this together,” Batman promised his son. “Just like we always do.”

#

By the time Damian had administered his antitoxin and let them out the cells, all of Bruce's other sons looked as wrung out and exhausted as he felt. The variant fear toxin might be cured, but it had left behind a lingering tension – a sense that there was something important that he was supposed to say, something to fix everything.

“Well, that was a blast, but I am out.” Red Hood gave them all a mock salute as he headed directly for the motorcycles. “Goldie, don't think I've forgotten that you owe me a new helmet.”

Dick chose to ignore him, instead listening to Damian describe his process to finding the solution.

“And then I realised that some correspondence between hallucination and reality would be essential for prompting the interrogee towards the desired subject of confession –”

“I'm so proud of you,” Dick told him. “All this couldn't have been easy to work out on your own. It's impressive you managed it so quickly.”

Bruce gave a distracted hum of agreement.

“B,” Dick said pointedly, elbowing him.

“It's alright, Richard,” Damian said, clearly awkward. “Father demonstrated his awareness of my competence when he entrusted this mission to me. I am not so petty as to require constant compliments –”

“Your chemistry skills have clearly progressed significantly in recent months,” Bruce broke in, and despite the boy's former protestations he was instantly silent. “I hope that seeing us all incapacitated was not too stressful for you?”

Damian tutted, shrugging off the concern.

“I am hardly distressed by taking on a leadership role,” he said. Then, far quieter: “… although Drake's suggestion to mute the cells was perhaps not entirely inane.”

“Thanks, Damian.” Tim gave him a weak smile, then glanced at Bruce. “I suppose I'd better get going too.”

There was no inflection to his words, but the air of a question hung in the air regardless.

“It might be unwise to drive after such an experience,” Bruce noted. “Perhaps it would be safer if you were to spend the night at the Manor.”

He glanced over at Jason as he said this. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought Jason hesitated for a moment.

Then his son was gunning the engine of the bike he had commandeered and tearing out of the cave at high speed.

“Anything to prevent reckless driving,” Tim said flatly. “Okay, I guess I'll turn in then.”

Dick shot Bruce a questioning look.

“You boys go ahead,” he said, waving them off. “I'll follow you when I'm done here.”

Dick shook his head a little, Tim sighed faintly, and Damian tutted under his breath. But all of them turned and made their way out the Cave.

Bruce waited until he heard the door into his study clicking closed. When he was sure he was alone, he pulled up the surveillance files on the Batcomputer. He rewound a few hours, back to their arrival at the Cave that evening.

Then he hit “play.”