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Chapter Text

“Jason has been reckless lately.” I turn towards Alfred with a searching gaze. “Do you have any thoughts as to why?” Alfred turns away from where he is repairing a bit of costume. “I cannot be sure Master Bruce,” pursing his lips “but perhaps your inquiries might be better suited for Master Jason himself.”

Sighing I walk back over to the chair at the computer and sit. “Alfred, there isn't any guarantee that he would even speak to me. I believe that he is still frustrated over how our last mission went. I don't..” I pinch my nose, “I don't want to be overbearing.”

“Overbearing?” Alfred's face stays perfectly the same but I know that he is just humoring me. “That is most certainly preposterous! No one here would claim that about you.” He turns back to his work.

Rolling my eyes I avert my gaze to the computer. “I am not completely blind to my faults.” Typing comes easy, the clues and logic slowly sliding together to form a narrative. I love putting the puzzle pieces together, turning simple clues into something I can use. The Joker has broken out of Arkham recently, it is my job to find out what he is planning.

“I know that I have made some mistakes in the past, in my choices regarding Dick’s upbringing, but I would prefer not to make the same ones with Jason.” 8 dead faces show up on the screen, each being a victim of joker gas. Nothing is special about any of them, no commonalities. Unfortunately it seems they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Dick has made it known to me about my… tendencies.”

Paranoid, obsessive, overbearing, these are just a few of the things that Dick has complained about. Maybe on some level he is right, but is it really paranoia if they are actually out to get you?

Regardless, I'm in a better place with Dick now. It was difficult when he started to become an adult and started to make his own choices, but I have tried to let him do things for himself. Let go of my grip so to speak. I may not always agree with the calls that he makes, but he is a fine hero in his own right, and leader of his own team. Relaxing about certain matters actually improved our relationship a lot.

Stopping for a moment, I think about what to say next. “They are…” a deep breath “important to me.” My gaze catches Alfred. “I want to be better for them. If I have to wait for them to come to me with their problems then I will.” Resolutely I refocus on the computer. Tracking some of the Jokers' associates will turn up some leads. There is a man named Gasper that I am hoping to find.

“Does Master Jason know that he can come to you to get help with his problems? Does he know that you want to listen to him?”

Freezing I spin toward Alfred, he stands behind me stiff and proper. His eyes bear into my soul, leaving me feeling vulnerable. I flinch ruminating on his words.

“I…I did not consider that.” Softly the words leave my mouth. “I had assumed? That he knew that.” Have I been doing enough to reassure him? To make sure that he knows that I want him? I never had to tell Dick that I loved him. It always felt like something that was understood.

As if reading my thoughts Alfred cuts in, “Jason is not Dick, Master Bruce. It would do you well to remember that. Perhaps you might reassure Master Jason of your thoughts.”

“I think I need to be excused.” Standing up sharply, I begin to make my way out of the cave. Pausing before the stairs “Would you happen to be aware of where Jay-lad might be?”

“I believe he might be in the library in his usual spot.”

“Thank you Alfred.” I make my way up the stairs out to the manor.

“Indeed Master Bruce.”

Working my way to the library with the sound of my footsteps echoing in the hallways, I pause to examine the photos on the wall. Pictures that contain Alfred and I, my parents. Jason, Dick, and Barbara are also frequent in these frames. It feels like my entire life is here. One of my favorites is a picture of me holding Dick. He had launched himself off the chandelier in the foyer moments prior to this being taken. He looks like he is having fun with a bright bubbling grin on his face. Arms spread wide to grab me in a hug, almost as if he is mid flight. My face, on the other hand, looks like I have swallowed some prunes. It reminds me of a time when things seemed less complicated. Not perfect. Just easier.

I move on knowing still that I wouldn't trade any of it. I would not trade my sons for anything. My relationship with them might be complicated with its ups and downs and issues galore, but I will still try. I will choose to be better for them. I may have my purpose, my mission, but they make it worth living. That his mission is worth doing. I might get broken in numerous ways, push myself to the very brink and back, gaze into endless abysses, but I do it for them. For the future I hope for them to have. One where people like me are not needed.

Long open hallways stretch into smaller corridors. Then mahogany doors. I'm at the library and whatever lies beyond it. Hopefully Jason is here. Steeling myself for a tough conversation I walk in.

The Wayne library is actually split into several different ones in the manor. There is the main one and several smaller ones scattered throughout the manor. The smaller ones contain books on reference, family history, and other such topics. I'm not even sure what is contained in all of them. Perhaps Jason would know. He is remarkably fond of the libraries.

Jason's chosen library to haunt is one of the smallest in the family wing. This particular library is aimed towards the children in the family. It has bright large windows with a view of the garden, vibrant colors, age appropriate books, and toys scattered about. Beautiful plush rugs make every step feel soft. Lots of comfortable seating is placed around the room, couches, beanbags, hammocks, but Jason's favorite is a sofa in the back of the room. Its big round plush cushions are perfect for sitting, spins for optimal views, plenty of window light, and has a full view of the room. He has it decked out with plush pillows and blankets. Stuffed animals cover the sofa as well. A small table with a lamp for nighttime reading is placed next to it.

This is where I found him. Legs tucked under a blanket, and a pillow in his lap to prop up his book. A cup of tea sits on the table next to him. I don't want to ruin this moment of peace. Carefully I slide out my phone to snap a quick photo. Having got my photo I quietly celebrated.

This moment of peace was hard fought for the both of us. A struggle to convince Jason that he was safe here. That he was welcome and that nothing would be taken from him. Long nights of worrying and pacing the hallways. Rejected gifts and presents. Food hidden in go bags hidden all over the manor. Even now he still can't accept things that I want to give him things he likes. I have had success getting him to accept copies of books he wants. Jane Austin, Virginia Woolf, Shakespeare, Hemingway, Twain, all have been added to his private collection. It also serves as a wonderful motivator for him. It gives him a goal to accomplish.

“Jason.” His eyes lock onto mine. He seems nervous? His eyes flicker around the library and his grip on his book tightens. “May I sit next to you?”

Chapter Text

“May I sit next to you?” The words almost seem rushed out of Da-Bruce’s mouth. Most people wouldn't be able to tell but I can. I can tell how his inflection has changed ever so slightly, his eyes widen in hope, and his mouth turns down in worry.

I don't know what to tell him for a moment, unsure and as strange as it feels. He never seeks me out like this, and doesn't typically sit next to me either. Lately all he seems to be doing is either being Batman or arguing with someone about what he thinks is right.

“Sure, I guess.” Shuffling over I can't help but stiffen. Where is this going? “What's up Bruce? Is it a mission?” I grimace thinking about how our last mission went.

We were in the warehouse district tracking some sick people dealing in kiddie tapes. Supposedly we had to wait for police backup to deal with these scum. According to his royal battyness, I jumped the gun. I was just doing what I was trained to do. What he trained me to do. Take out the bad guys, it's simple. He should know that I can handle these small thugs.

I snap out of my thoughts when Bruce sits next to me. He carefully, with telegraphed movements, places his arm behind me over the back of the sofa. His body slowly moves in, settling next to mine, cuddling me. His hand reaches up to my hair gently playing with it. It feels nice, safe in fact.

Maybe he is here to hangout with me. No arguing or tough discussions. It feels like comfort. I can’t believe that I'm relaxing into this, allowing myself to be unguarded. It's been complicated, rough with Bruce lately. It's like he says all the wrong things but it's a coin toss as to whether or not he means any of it. In those moments it feels like there is something cold and dead where Bruce's heart should of been. Then he turns around and does things like this. Where my heart is soft and alive where it beats in my chest. It feels like he cares and loves me. I am at peace in my home. But I don’t know the truth.

I often feel like I'm the problem. Ever since I walked into Bruce's life I fucked it up. I'm just a sewer rat, a street kid. Why am I here when there are plenty of kids that need a home like this? He could have chosen any other kid? He could choose someone more obedient, someone who will listen and wouldn't fly off the handle. Shit, I can't even compare to Dick, Bruce's golden kid. Where Dick is shiney and witty and kind, I'm rough and dirty and unskilled. I can't do anything right, I put civilians in danger. I'm going to get myself killed out there. I'm not fit to be Batman's partner. I should just give up on being someone like Dick. I try everyday to prove myself worthy. I learn everything I can, push myself to my physical limits, and shine stronger, more opulent. The best partner I can be for Bruce. Someone that can stand by his side and be something of worthy. Not just a sidekick but a hero too. That I deserve all of the nice things that he gets me, the love and the concern he does show, every scrap of it there is. That the education he affords me is well spent. I have to do it for him.

“What are you reading chum?” his voice feels soft, caring. Nothing like the stern, disappointed voice of Batman.

“Oh, nothing much, just Wuthering Heights.” I mumbled. I realize that I had been staring off in the distance for a while. “I like the romance between Cathrine & Heathcliff.”

“I don't believe that it is a book I have read before,” he smiles at me, “you will have to tell me if I should read it after you finish it.”

“I'm not that deep into the book yet B,” glancing at him, “I can read it to you. If you want to read it with me.”

Bruce's expression shifts to one of surprise. More open than I thought it would be.

“No,” he says, shifting his body “not this time, but thank you.’ Silence descends on us for a minute, both of us unsure of what to say.

Finally Bruce opens his mouth “Jason, I have been…” he cuts himself off, licking his lip with his eyes averted. “I have been concerned about you.” Here his eyes finally meet mine. “I don't want this to turn into an argument or for you to think that this is,” frustration echoes across his face, “me trying to control you.”

“Bruce, that ship sailed a long time ago.” Is this about our last mission? You already reamed me out for that one. “If this is a lecture then please excuse me.” Sitting up I start to escape this conversation.

“Wait. Please?” His hand is gently placed on my arm. “ I just. I want you to know.” He removes his hand hoping for me to settle back down into him.

“Know what B?” Sighing I turn my head towards him, making sure not to meet his gaze. “That I need to follow the procedure better? That if I don't shape my act up you’re going to kick me out?”

“What?! No!” denial leaves his lips, he shakes his head frantically. “I want you to know I am here for you. You can trust me with anything and tell me anything you want. I am and always will be on your side. I want to be your family forever.”

“Oh, sure Bruce,” I roll my eyes as spit leaves my mouth. My eyes lock on his, a stubborn expression on my face. “Just like how you were on my side during our last mission. Just because you come to me saying things that you think will please me doesn't mean I'm going to forgive your actions. I didn't do anything wrong!”

“I don't regret what I said. You were too reckless, if you continue with that type of prideful attitude you will end up getting civilians killed or yourself.”

“You were the one who trained me like this!”

“Look, Jason,” he sighs frustrated, pinching his nose. “I don't want this to be another argument. It's just, you seem like you have some problems lately. I think that you've got a lot of pain and anger inside of you, and that it resembles something that I've felt. I can help you learn techniques to manage these sorts of feelings. Let me help you please.”

“You think this is about my feelings Bruce?! It's not! Even if it was?!” pausing I take a deep breath, hands shaking at my side. “I wouldn't want to talk about my feelings with you! You would just use them to further manipulate me! What are you going to do anyway if I don't? Bench me? You've already done that.” Bitterness lines every breath I take, disappointment sinks my body into the sofa.

“This conversation is over you old man! Fuck you too Bruce!” The thud from slamming my book shut echoes in the room, the bookmark tucked inside, and I stand up. Slamming my feet on the floor, I take off out the door.

His parting words fell like a death sentence. “ I'm sorry Jason. I love you.”

Chapter Text

Stalking down the street, I step on every crack I can find. There's a lot of cracks in Gotham. Kicking rocks, my thoughts begin to spiral. What a manipulative ass Bruce is. How dare he try to use my feelings like that. All I ever wanted to be was good enough for dad! No, I shouldn't call him that, he doesn't love me like that anyway. Why would he? I can't even have a conversation with him without it dissolving into an argument!

Buildings begin to blur around me as I speed up, faces pass more and more. My mother, Catherine, couldn't stick around for me. Taken by some stupid disease! All I can remember of her is wasting away in that sterile white hospital room. I stayed at our apartment alone while it falled apart. I loved her anyway. She was everything at that time and every moment was worth the pain. She truly did love me. Every ragged breath she would take made me heavy with grief. By the end of her life I was begging for her to let go. I could take care of myself at that point, I can survive without her. I couldn't be the reason for her to continue suffering. Willis, that bastard, let himself go into a life of crime and got offed. I was an orphan.

Sometimes I can't help but wonder. One day will the manor be my tomb? Where else would I go other than the manor? There is nothing else for me. No one else for me.

Eyes wide, I skitter to a stop. Someone bumps into me from behind. “Sorry.” “Watch what you're doing buddy.” It's the apartment building. The one I shared with my parents before Bruce took me in. It's an apartment building that's deep within Crime Alley. My eyes fill with tears slightly as I gaze upon the worn brick facade. The windows are covered in grime, curtains more often than not closed tight. It's an old familiar sight. A mix of sadness and anger wells up inside me.

Then a window opens up above me. “You! There boy!” A voice calls out. “You're Jason Todd aren't you?” An older lady is sticking her head out a window, looking at me.

“Yes.”

“Then get up here! I have something for you!” With that she exits the window.

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“Come in! Come in now young man!” The lady quickly ushers me in. There is a brown cardboard box that she goes to retrieve from the sofa.

“You're Ms.Walker aren't you? A friend of my mother's.” I glance to the box hoping the longing on my face doesn't show.

“Yes, I was Jason. That's what I called you up here for,” she gestures with the box to me, “ it has personal papers and photos. I kept it in case you ever came back. You did disappear after your mother died.”

She presses the box into my hands, a kind smile on her face. “ Thought it might be something you would like.”

“This is amazing Ms.Walker! How can I ever thank you?”

“Ain't nothing son. Now shoo! Mama’s got some shopping to do.” She starts to push me out the door reminding me to “take care of yourself son.” Then shuts the door. I run off excited for the first time in a while.

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Hurrying back to the manor I ruminate on what I will find into the box. Personally I'm hoping for photos of me and my mom. It would be nice to reminisce. Remember the good times and not just the bad. Arriving at the gates to the manor I turn the alarm system off for a minute. I make sure not to leave evidence of doing such. Then making sure I don't run into Alfred I go through the garden to get to my window.

Sliding into my bedroom, the thought of opening the box has taken over my mind. I really hope Alfred doesn't know that I'm here, I don't want to be disturbed. Setting the box down on my bed, I walk over to the desk to grab my chair. Time to figure out what is inside the box. Hope bubbles in my chest.

I open the box with shaking hands. Reaching inside I first find some photos. Some have my face on them, others contain Willis and Catherine. I spot one that is bittersweet, my mom is holding me in her lap, softly. I'm talking about something that seemed important to me at that age. My hands flying about and my mouth running at full speed. Willis stands behind Mom's chair listening intently. We look happy in this photo, it was taken in a time before everything went to shit.

Other items slowly emerge from the box as I carefully examine each one. Deeds, insurance cards, medical records, and school reports all line my bed. As the box becomes empty one particular paper catches my eye. My birth certificate, a little water damaged and torn sits in front of me. The slight gloss of the paper catches the light. Looking it over my eyes open wide! “What… what is this?”

Running my fingertip over the paper I find a section of my mother's name scribbled out in messy black ink. The only discernible letter is the letter S up at the front. That's not… “that's not Catherine's name. Catherine Todd… is not my mother.”

Who is my mother then?

Using the skills that Batman taught me is going to be easy. First I check what I have to make sure I have all of the information. Ah! An address book, I can cross reference the names! Searching the address book I find three names that match the criteria. “Sharmin Rosen, Shiva Wooden, or Sheila Haywood huh?” I need to know where to find them. I doubt any of them would still be in Gotham given the amount of time it's been.

Where to look? I have to use the tools available to me… I know! The bat computer should have an idea!

I get to use all of the stealth training I went through! It's going to be a little bit more difficult to get by Alfred but it must be done. I have to know who my mother is. Without Bruce's interference.

The first step in getting to the cave is getting to an entrance. There is the main one in the office as well as the main car entrance. Using the main entrance would be beneficial in that it is quick and easy to get to. It also requires the least amount of security to get through. The downside is that everyone uses that entrance so the likelihood of running into someone is high. The other downside is that it would be predictable to go through there.

The other secret entrance is hidden somewhere in the manor. I only know of its existence, Dick briefly mentioned it and Bruce never said anything. That's the biggest downside to this one. I don't know where it is, I would have to search for it. But presumably it would be a quieter way to get into the cave, less used. I might have to deal with additional security though.

After thinking it through I decide on the main entrance due to quickness and ease. Sneaking my way through the hallway I listen to every creak and groan of the manor. An afternoon sun shines through the windows creating long shadows. Endless amounts of wall and space are before me. Sometimes I feel at peace here. In these walls something makes me feel at home. Like this is my place. Other times the screaming need to get away nearly consumes me.

Luckily I never seem to run into Alfred. Maybe he is away from the manor currently. Either way I make it to the cave without incident. Typing the names into the computer I hope to find a location.

“Let's see here…” muttering under my breath as files pull up on the screen. Thank God Batman keeps such organized data. Finding anyone or anything without such well formatted notes would be difficult. I guess there is a point to all of the reports Bruce makes us do. It appears all three ladies are out of the country like I suspected. The three of them show recent activities in the Middle East and Africa.

I guess I need to decide where to go first. “Who is the most likely candidate to be my mother? I should start there.” Ok Robin, treat this like another mission. You got this. “You can prove to Batman and Nightwing that you are a competent detective. That they did well to choose you to help them.”

I should tell Agent A or Nightwing. If I did though, one of them might tell Batman. I can't let that happen. My face screws up as I think about what Batman would say if he found out. “ You are in no shape to be leading this kind of investigation. Your emotions have been controlling you lately. You've been benched for a reason.” He wouldn't care about finding my mother even. He would want to keep me all for himself. They wouldn't even understand why I would want to find her. I have to keep this secret.

Stalking out of the cave I resolved to do this by myself. Whatever the cost may be.

Chapter Text

I have been chasing after Joker, looking into leads. Out of all the thoughts in my mind the main one is my son Jason. After starting another argument I feel bad for it. I could have handled that better, instead of getting frustrated I should have shown my concern better. “It's too late to do that anyway.” My worry for Jason has caused me to be sloppy while out on patrol. I try to focus back on what I'm doing. Crashing in through the window of Gasper's apartment I demand “Leaving so soon? Why don't you tell me where the Joker is?” glass sprays everywhere and I hear his gasp of fright. “Why would I tell you anything?” He sneers. Not even waiting for an invitation I started to beat Gasper up for information. I overcompensate, leading me to knock Gasper out and I lose the information. All of Joker's goons have fled as well so that is a dead end. It appears that there is a passport in the suitcase that he was packing. It tells me a location. Lebanon. “Let's see what the Joker is hiding.”

Just after dawn I discovered a warehouse that the Joker was using. Well, the Joker sure did leave this place in a hurry. Various items are left everywhere on workbenches. A set of skid marks belonging to a military vehicle leave the warehouse. Everything is in disarray. Looking closer at the tools on one of the benches I spot a Geiger counter. The tool that is used to measure radiation, quite a helpful device. “I don't like the look of this.”

Turning the machine on, numbers begin to light up in the display. I can't but hope for the best, yet still expect the worst. The counter shows a large amount of radiation, more than there should be. There are very few things that should have this kind of radiation in conjunction with military vehicles. I hate to say it but “The Joker has a nuclear weapon.”

How could I let him get his hands on such a deadly weapon? Who knows what he is planning with this? Does he have a desire to use it? No. Being fresh out of Arkham like this he likely has a need for funds. He could be selling it. The passport gives me a hint. “He's selling the weapon in the middle east, likely screwing over whoever he sells it to.” The stakes just got higher than before.

It would be nice to have some extra pairs of hands for this. However, Nightwing is off planet and Robin is currently benched. This might not be a terrible opportunity for learning for Robin. On the other hand I have no desire for him to fly off the handle again. Can I trust that Robin will listen? No. I don't think I can . I want to trust Robin with every breath that I take, but he isn't even listening to me as a civilian. I cannot take that risk when civilians are in danger.

Rushing back to the cave as fast as the batmobile will take me, I hope to run into Alfred. Luckily he is already waiting for me in the cave. Jumping out of the batmobile, I stride over to the computer. “Agent A, we must act decisively!” I set the route that the bat plane will take. Ensure that contingencies will be left in case I do not return. Update my notes to ensure a record remains. “The Joker has obtained a nuclear weapon. I have reason to believe that he will sell it in the Middle East. One of his associates has a passport to Lebanon. I will start my search there.”

“Splendid, Master Bruce, but I would like to inquire- how did your conversation with Master Jason proceed?” Walking over to the gadget stash, he begins to help me prepare for departure.

“Hmm.” The grunt comes out of my mouth unthinkingly. My eyes shy away from Alfred's knowing ones.

I don't know how to fix what I did wrong during our conversation but I truly don't have the time to ruminate on it. I have to deal with this threat.

“Not that well then?” His question doesn't need an answer, both of us know already. “I trust that instead of addressing the issue between you and Master Jason, that you will choose to brood in silence instead? That you will choose to use this “pressing threat ” to distract yourself instead?”

Alfred’s words hit deep. That is exactly what I am going to do. I can't ruin my relationship with Jason if I avoid talking about it.

“I need to focus, Alfred.” My eyes turn to him as I finish my preparations. “I will try to talk to Jason when I return. However I believe that both Jason and I need time to calm down. I'm not being avoidant, just practical.” I am totally trying to put off this conversation. I have no intentions on putting my foot further in my mouth than I already did.

I see Alfred's eyebrow rise and he hums knowingly. “ Well then Master Bruce, I hope you don't mind if I hold you to that promise. Remember, Jason is not a mind reader. You have to tell him honestly or he is not going to understand your intentions. Now then,” he clears his throat, professionalism sliding into place. “I wish you luck on your travels.”

Alfred turns toward the stairs leading out of the cave. “I will watch over Master Jason, as well as the other responsibilities here. Please, come back safe.” With that he walks away, leaving me feeling cold.

Chapter Text

I end up chasing the Joker through Lebanon into Beirut. One of the lower ranks spills the beans after a little… persuasion. “There is a man at the Hotel Blu offering the object you seek!” He desperately confesses everything he knows.

Heading over to that area I pass countless faces. Vibrant stalls and loud noise fills my ears. The market is a very busy place with plenty of business. Across from the hotel I busy myself at a random stall and wait for my target to show up. Peter Brando is the name of the man I am seeking. He is the one that is trading with the Joker, funds for the nuclear warhead.

“ Isn't it just a lovely day Sharmin? Don't you just think so?” A beautiful young woman hangs off Peter’s arm as they walk from the hotel. I follow them to a terrorist camp near Israel.

As I trade blows with the men in the camp, the Joker runs off from the deal that he was making. I growl internally. I want to pursue him, however the nuclear warhead takes precedent over the mad clown. Additionally, taking out the idiots who are going to use the warhead is a priority.

It's unfortunate but the Joker escapes, for now.

In a interesting move, Sharmin joins the fray of battle. She is an Israeli Agent and her fighting style reflects that. She seems to rely on weapons to do her fighting, something that the other combatants reflect. It does her a disservice.

“Look out!” The words accompany a truly powerful explosion as the nuclear warhead blows up. Shockwaves emanate from the site of the explosion and I am thrown into the air. Smoke and rubble settle around us. It appears that for now the danger is over.

Wrapping things up here, I try to obtain as much information from Peter and Sharmin as I can. They hint that Beirut's criminal elements would know more about the Joker's plans. Specifically a mercenary named Shiva Woosan.

Tracking down Shiva Woosan requires talking to the locals around Beirut. Perhaps the man at the front desk of Hotel Blu would know something?

Heading into the luxury hotel, I stalk up to the front counter and put on my most charming self. "Excuse me, would you happen to know where I could find a lady named Shiva Woosan?"

"Ah, I'm sorry sir, but I'm not allowed to give out information about our guests." He responds rather politely, instead of calling me an idiot like I'm sure he wants to.

Guess I'm going to have to drop the act. I reach across the counter and grab him by his fancy necktie. Pulling him over and then slamming him on the counter causes him to start shaking.

"Why don't you try that again?" I turn my voice into a rough approximation of Batman. Staring deep into his eyes I demand "Where. Is. Shiva. Woosan?"

“Sir,” the desk clerk waved his hands back and forth, “the only thing I saw was her being dragged into a car that drove off. I don't know anything more than that.”

I let the clerk go. "Thank you."

Tracking down the car that took Shiva is easy when there are plenty of cameras that line the street, but once it gets out into open road then things become different. Catching up to the car takes some skill but I pull it off.

I follow the car that takes her all the way to Beckaa Valley. The thugs that took her go down easy between the two of us, not that she truly needs my help. Now for the more difficult part, obtaining information from her.

“Lady Shiva.”

“Batman.”

We stare at each other hoping to glean information from body language.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your…esteemed company?” The words purr out of her mouth, a hand cocked on her hip. Her body language is loose and easy. Either she thinks that I'm going to be a easy fight or she wants something. I'm not going to make it easy for her to get anything from me.

“Hmm.” My eyes meet hers. Watching. Waiting for her to spill.

“Not in a talkative mood are we? Well if that's all, then I suppose I should be on my way.” Turning she takes a step away.

“I want information.” I give her a small concession, just enough to keep her interested. To keep her dancing along with me.

“Oh? Information huh? And what kind of information does the big black bat want?” She walks over to me fingertips lightly placed on my chest, her hand splayed out.

Then her hands wander up to my face stroking my jaw. “I'm sure we can come to…and arrangement that both of us will enjoy.” She smiles coyly. “Perhaps one of an intimate kind?”

Tch. “Thank you for the… generous offer but..I have other matters to attend to.” I push her hand off my face.

“The Joker. Know anything?”

“Know what?”

“Tell me what you know about the Joker.” This is going nowhere. I may have to leave without getting anything from her.

“ And what if I say no?” Smirking she backs up readying her body.

“Then I guess I will have to make you.”

With that we begin to fight, her blades flashing in the light. Back and forth we trade blows, She can take the hits as well as serve them. I'm going to have to resort to just being stronger than her.

Pushing hard, I work my way into gaining an opening on her defense. Then with one solid Thump! I finally knocked her out.

Tying her up, I get ready to interrogate her. A vial of handy truth serum should do the trick.

A slight tensing of her muscle alerts me to her waking. She is trying to feign being knocked out. That will not work on me.

I shove the serum down her throat. Covering her nose and mouth forces her to swallow it.

“What do you know about the Joker's plans?”

“No…” she struggles in her bonds.

Then, “I don't know much, but I've heard that he is heading to Ethiopia to gain more funds. There is a refugee camp out there, where supposedly he plans on swindling them out of their supplies. A woman named Sheila Haywood is in charge of the camp.”

Finally. I can end this wild goose chase. I turn around and walk away.

“Surely you aren't going to just leave me like this?” She calls out behind me.

“I'm sure that you will be perfectly fine with your skill set.” Is my dry response. I walk away off into the desert.

Chapter Text

Finding my way to Ethiopia is shockingly easy. Some plastic gold (generously supplied by Bruce) and we are on our way! I didn't even need Bruce's or Alfred's help to get here! I chose to pursue Sheila Haywood first. Based on the admittedly small amount of evidence that I had access to, she was the candidate that seemed the most likely. It could be none of the three ladies, but I have a strong suspicion that at least one of them is my bio mother. Sheila spent a considerable amount of time in Gotham compared to the other two. She also spent the majority of that time in, you guessed it, Crime Alley.

Doing further research in that line of thought I was able to dig up old newspaper articles about the humanitarian efforts that she did in the Alley. She was a med student doing her best when a botched operation ruined her career. After that I was unable to find anything else about her time in Gotham. That must have been when she left Gotham, leaving me behind. Or at least, that's my running theory.

I find my way to the refugee camp that Dr. Sheila is located at. The drive over was long but uneventful thankfully. Inside the camp dirty faces huddle around tents. Food is being passed out by haggard workers. There is an earthy smell that cannot be described. Walking around the camp makes me feel quite grim. Talking to some of the workers, I find out that “Ms.Harwood is in the dark green tent toward the center of the camp. It is quite recognizable, so you should be able to find it rather easily.”

There are many thoughts that are running through my mind now. The most prominent one is whether or not she will want me. Provided that Sheila Harwood even is my mother. I already know that Bruce doesn't want Jason Todd, he only cares about Batman. Well I'm going to prove that Jason Todd is someone that should be cared about. I’m going to use my superior detective skills to make sure that I will be needed. I’m sure that there are lots of helpful things I can do for Ms.Harwood. She wouldn’t ever want to let me go.

Rounding the corner between some tan tents I spot a dark green one. Well, that was easy. Nice to know. Approaching the tent I hear a voice in the tent. “Am I sure about this? I know how that monster is. But do I have any other choice?” Her voice sounds exhausted and stressed out. Carefully sliding the flap to the tent open, I peer inside the tent making sure not to be noticed. Wow. Look at her. She has beautiful blond hair, and the most stunning blue eyes. Her eyes, they look like mine. She has to be my mother then.

“Are you ready boys?” That voice. I know that voice. Quickly I hide behind some crates conveniently next to the tent. Instinct and training causes me to go completely silent. A man with a certain long face approaches the tent and slides inside. Two big burly men remain outside guarding the tent. “Dr. Sheila. How nice to see you again. Is everything prepared?”

“Of course.”

It’s the Joker. And she is working with him. I have to do something.

“All of the supplies are at the warehouse my dear? I would hate to have to do something…unfortunate should you renegade on our deal.”

“Yes, everything is there.”

“Good, lets be on our way then hmm? Wouldn't want to miss the show now would we?”

With that the Joker exits the tent with my mom behind him. Her face is smiling but I know for a fact that it is fake. They set off to a Jeep that is parked in the distance. I have to follow them but how? I wouldn't be able to keep up with them on foot. Looking around reveals a tan colored bike. Perfect. Let's get this show on the road.

Flying down the road on the bike surprisingly gives me a similar feeling to being Robin. The almost effortless way that going at top speed gives is freeing. I feel like this is the eye of the storm, my storm, and I’m about to make waves that can be felt across every universe. Something very impactful is about to happen. For better or worse I have to push on. I cannot leave a civilian with the Joker, especially not my mother.

The crest of the hill shows a warehouse with a bunch of goons outside it. My mother and the Joker are speaking next to a truck but I’m too far away to hear them. Only having my Robin costume is going to make this a difficult endeavor. I should have brought more gear. Robin should always be prepared. I'm just going to have to make this work. Changing into my costume with lightning speed I settle in.

Ok. Focus. What would Batman Do? Well, probably not let me go into a warehouse with a bunch of goons all by myself. He would most likely demand that I get backup. That is a luxury I don't have. That's not the point though. Reconnaissance. That is what I need to do first. Get the lay of the land, find spots that put me into the advantage. Eliminate as many variables that I can. Figure out ways to deal with spots that are disadvantageous. Ok so, there is a skylight on the top of the warehouse, a potential entrance? The goons seem to be done packing the trucks. The engines roar to life as they leave with the trucks, ok one less issue to deal with. I can deal with the Joker by myself anyway.

Thinking of him, where did the Joker go? Shit, rookie mistake. I should have kept a closer eye on him. Nightwing would have never made this kind of mistake. A flash of blond hair shines through the windows of the warehouse. Oh! I realise the Joker and mother are inside the warehouse.

They are inside the warehouse. Without me.

Ok new plan! I have to save her. I have to go inside the warehouse. There is no other option.

Chapter Text

I hear a shrill ringing sound come out of my pocket, it's Alfred calling me on my cell phone. “Agent A, what’s the situation?” I try to speak as calmly as I can, but I still sound rough and commanding.

“Our little bird is nowhere to be found in Gotham or near it. Nightwing’s apartment also turns up no leads.” His voice is tense and uneasy, nothing like it normally is. “However, I did find one lead. There is a charge on your credit card for one flight to the Middle East. From there the charge’s locations shift towards the country of Ethiopia.” I know that he is worried about Jason. I am as well. It was bad timing for Jason to leave when he did, but it is what it is. “I will send you coordinates now to the approximate location of our little bird.”

“Read you loud and clear Agent A. I have a lead to follow that leads to Ethiopia as well. After reconvening with our lost bird I will continue with my mission.” I turn the helicopter towards the coordinates that Agent A sends me. “Signing out now Agent A.”

Spotting a dust cloud in the distance catches my attention. A convoy of vehicles makes its way across the land. They seem to be carrying cargo of some kind.

As we pass each other the men guarding the convoy mistake me for a hijacker. Bullets ricochet off the helicopter. Trying to dodge, my luck doesn't hold out. I hear a bang and the strain of the engine whirring. A bullet hits a vital part of the helicopter and it starts to go down.

I bail out of the helicopter, throwing myself down towards the ground. A trigger happy soldier makes for a softer landing. He lets out a groan and then passes out. Various fighters and weapons try to take me down. Flashes of a muzzle as bullets whip by, fists try to land as many punches as they can. They all go down the same, without hesitation or mercy.

“You're Batman aren't you?” One of the men steps out of the truck. He has a wary look in his eye. His posture doesn't make me think that he wants to fight, but will if he needs to.

“Where is this convoy heading?” I demand.

He snorts with disdain. “Where we were told to go.”

“On whose orders?” I look over the men on the ground, hoping to find a hint as to their employer. A suspicious purple and green color catches my eye.

“ I don't believe you have any authority here Batman. I don't have to answer your questions.” Arms crossed. Tight expression. He knows who I am. This paints a narrative, one that I am not thrilled about.

“You're working for the Joker.” We both know this is the truth. Launching myself at the goon, I don't give him time to respond and knock him out.

I turn towards the rest of the men who are wearily watching the encounter. “Unless you want to join him, start unloading the cargo.” I tie up the goon in front of me tightly. “ The army will be coming by shortly. I suggest not making a run for it unless you want to be gunned down by them.”

With that, I take an empty truck and start to hurry to the coordinates. I can only hope that I am not too late for whatever mad schemes the Joker has planned.

Racing down the dirt road, my heart begins to pound. A terrible consuming sense of dread fills my lungs. A shivering sensation makes its way down my back. Just what am I getting into?

It is in these sorts of moments that I have to recenter myself. Become an eye in the middle of the storm. Where even though death and destruction surround me, I still remain calm and composed. I'm finding it harder and harder to accomplish this mindset the longer I worry about Jason. Instead I choose to remind myself of why I still do this. I do it for the family and friends that I have made. I want to see Jason in his favorite spot in the library reading a book, to see Alfred's warm smiles and soft touches. I want Dick’s warm hugs and to watch him soar like I know he can. I Can't live without my family anymore, they have become a part of my heart and soul. I have to train everyday to become stronger to better protect the things I care about. I work on myself mentally to keep myself sharp so nothing escapes my notice. I learn new skills to improve myself and further ensure that in any situation I am prepared. Unfortunately I don't think any number of skills can prepare me for this. Still, with my nerves soothed some and my resolve strengthened I push on.

The warehouse looms in the distance. I approach at top speed. Closer and closer still I get.

Then.

KA-THOOOOOOM!!!!!!

The warehouse blows up in a massive fury. Bright scolding hot fire rains down from above the warehouse destruction. Concrete blasts in every direction, and huge pieces crash into the surrounding scenery. Where the warehouse was is nothing more than concrete rubble.

I hear an engine roaring in the distance. I watch as a truck with a very familiar face drives away from the explosion. The Joker was here. I start to go after him but then, I stop.

Jason was in Ethiopia. According to Alfred's previous reports he was on the hunt for his mother. One of the potential bio mothers was Sheila Haywood who resides in a camp near here. I don't want to think about it but…

He couldn't be here right?

There’s no way that… that our paths would cross as such right?

Though I know that fate is not that kind to me.

Hopefully he is safe and sound somewhere else.

My gut sinks more and more the closer I get to the warehouse. I want to vomit already.

I reach the singed remains of the warehouse. Singed, dirty, and destroyed bricks line my path in. Shattered glass crushed beneath my feet. Smoke and the scent of death fills my nose and lungs.

I pause at the entrance of the ruins. The warehouse. I don't want to face whatever fate lies beyond this moment. I have to do it anyway.

Shifting through the destruction, a narrative forms in my head. There are remains of a burnt rope, a bloody crowbar, and a pool of blood on the floor. Someone was hit multiple times by this crow bar then left on the floor. The rope though is odd. Where is the person that was in the rope? Did they get themselves untied? Or did someone else do it for them? The pool of blood on the floor suggests that they might have a difficult time untying themselves. Regardless, there is still someone other than me in this warehouse, I should find them.

Thinking more about the scene that I saw a secondary narrative forms in my head. A confrontation seems likely. A confrontation between who though? It has to be the Joker and Jason. The only one with the opportunity would be Sheila Harwood or one of her associates.

A small piece of blond hair catches my eye. Rushing over I find a woman with blond hair, a bloody white shirt, and green pants. She’s alive! Blearily her eyes open. Her features, but especially those eyes… they… they remind me of Jason!

“Help me… Help me please…” her voice is barely a whisper. Examining her, the prognosis isn't good. Lacerations, burn marks, and blood cover her skin. One of her legs is broken, the white of her bone sticking outside of her leg. “Shelia… what happened here?”

“The… Joker… he tied us up…set a bomb to explode…” Her lungs contract harshly as she coughs up blood trying to speak.

“...wanted to dispose of the evidence… he tried to rescue me… we almost made it out…” Her eyes are getting less focused, we are running out of time.

“... he threw himself in front of me… he took the brunt of the blast…” Her head begins to lull, turning her face away from me.

“...He’s such a good boy… loved his… mother… please… help my son… Jason.” Her eyes closed for the last time.

She’s gone. The pain is behind her now. There isn't much else I can do for her now. Gently I place her down. May she rest in peace. Moving on, I hope to find Jason, I hope… please don’t let it be my Jason, the other person she mentioned.

Somewhere between hope and despair, I walk through the rubble. Passing through steel beams, I don't see much but concrete, rebar, fire, and smoke. Maybe Jason made it out, maybe he isn't here…

A figure with red, yellow, and green catches my eye. Oh My God. “Oh my god… NO!”

JASON. Not my son. Please. One look at him and I know. I check for a pulse and signs of breathing, finding none. Muscle memory takes over as I start cpr. 30 chest compressions, 2 breaths, and repeat. 30 chest compressions, 2 breaths, and repeat. 30 chest compressions, 2 breaths, and repeat. 30 chest compressions, 2 breaths, and repeat. 30 chest compressions, 2 breaths, and check for signs of life. I take his pulse and look for signs of breathing. None.

He’s Gone.

I pull my son into my lap. I can’t help but stroke his hair as tears begin to fall down my face. The last time I saw him… we argued… and now I can’t ever make up with him. He’s too young. This bright spitfire kid was snuffed out way too early. It’s my fault. How could I have been so stupid? So ignorant? He died in this suit as robin and not old and grey like he should have. Why couldn’t I see that he was too young for this kind of work?

I was so lonely without Dick by my side. Jason helped fill that void. Every time we would go out I would feel such joy at having him by my side, he was amazing. Jason made everything feel magical, like he would put his own special spin on everything. He was perceptive, sarcastic, and witty. I felt like Batman had to have a partner, a Robin. I thought that being Robin would help him grow like it did for Dick. I still think about how I found him. He was stealing the tires to the Batmobile, he had already removed three of them and was getting the fourth when I caught him. He hit me with the tire iron to try and get away. At first I wasn’t sure what to do, but then I decided to offer the kid a burger instead, and the rest was history.

I saw something in him that resembled me. Strong unwavering conviction. A sense for justice and compassion. The grits to survive whatever life threw at him. I couldn’t help but think that with some solid support he would shine brighter than any star in the sky. He was so much more than I could have ever hoped for. He was a brilliant soul with a thirst for knowledge. He has so much kindness and compassion it astounds me, he just didn’t have the means to use it on the streets. He was rebellious and proud, but he was Jason Peter Todd, my son. His presence in my life brought sunshine, hope, laughter, and more books than I could imagine. His smiles were so cute, too tiny and small, but there. It was an honor and a joy to watch him grow.

I will never see him alive again.

Chapter Text

Ugh. Another long boring counsel meeting. My eyes slowly wander around the throne room hoping for something interesting to come up. Or for someone to come save me from my suffering.

“It should be a respectable ghost!” I reluctantly tune back into the conversation around me.

“One who can ensure the well being of the realms!” Another observant nods its giant eyeball along to the discussion.

They continue to argue and bicker amongst themselves. Apparently I have to get married “for the good of the realms” or some sort of nonsense.

“Are you implying that my rule is unfit?” I cut through the bickering, my eyes sharpening at the now cowering observants.

“No my king.” They quietly murmured, their giant eyes bowed to the floor.

A rather bold observant steps forward, “My king, we only make these suggestions for the betterment of the realm, we do not mean any offense.” Another cuts in, “It is clear to the observants that the burden you carry far exceeds the capabilities of one ghost, even one as mighty as you are. A partner would serve you well.” The first observant quickly adds “There are many who would love to stand at your side.” The others start to join in, creating a huge clamor.

“Enough.” Cutting through the noise again, the room falls silent. “Have I not been a fair and just king?”

“You are the most fair and just, my king.” They reply in unison.

“Have I not done everything that has been asked of me and more?”

“You have, my king.” They reply in unison.

“Then you must understand that this is one of the few matters I will choose for myself. It is not that I do not appreciate your counsel, but I have given much for the sake of the realms. This is something I do not believe should be your choice. It is my right as king to decide who should stand by my side.” I don’t even really want to get married truthfully. I already have enough on my plate as is, going on an unscheduled hunt for a bride would put a serious wrench in the plans I have already made. I don’t even have any idea who I would marry.

An observant separates themselves from the crowd and steps forward bravely. They float to the front of my throne and kneel before me, eye pointed at the floor. “My king,” their head bows even further, “you must understand, some things are written in stone, the realm will see a partner at your side ruling with you. You have until the end of this month to find a suitable partner or we will find one for you.” Their eye locks onto mine. “We apologise, but it must be done.” I cannot argue with them further at the moment. I am exhausted with this discussion as is, but I also have other duties to attend to. The frustration for my situation overwhelms me. It feels like arguing with a brick wall at times. I only have myself to rely on in these sorts of meetings, only when my personal counsel has the time to join in are things more productive.

I close my eyes and hope that they will disappear. I wait a moment. “My king?” calls out a hopeful voice. Nope. Still there. Ok.

Sighing, I stand up from my throne, and the observant in front of me quickly moves out of the way. “I have other duties to attend to. This meeting has already gone over schedule. We will discuss this matter further at another point. Dismissed.” Without waiting for another word, I walk out of the throne room, my cape swishing behind me.

I can’t help but be reminded about when I first became king, they were just as pushy then as they are now. They had opinions about everything, from how I conducted myself, to what the castle looked like, to the decorations of the throne room. It was truly ridiculous how they tried to insert themselves into every decision that I made. The decoration of the throne room is one of the best decisions I have made. I really believe that I did a great job at making it look not only royal, but stylish too. I made it somewhere that can be used for more than just holding court, parties and other celebrations have also been held here. It got a complete makeover from when I first saw it while fighting Pariah Dark. Where it had been dark, drab, and frankly ghoulish, it is now much more…lively.

I picked a dark green carpet with black accents to lead up to the throne, black and white tapestries with my emblem line the walls of the room, and my favorite part, two giant stained glass windows reside behind the throne. I personally wanted a collage of green, clear and black stained glass, but thanks to some certain influences (Cough cough Frostbite), It now depicts some of the various accomplishments my allies and I have over the years. I actually think that Frostbite might have been right with that choice, it does look nicer than what I wanted. Torches with bright green fire light the room in a warm glow. Several elaborate wrought iron chandeliers hang from vaulted ceilings. The ceiling is painted to reflect different areas of the infinite realms. Above my throne is a stunning depiction of the milky way. I spend time when I have it, looking at those stars above my throne in quieter moments. When I first walked in after my coronation, I was blown away. I’m sure my mouth was gaping wide open and my eyes bugged out.

Hah, I really wasn’t ready then, I’m not even sure if I’m ready now. Walking down that plush green carpet, dressed to the nines, it really did feel like something out of a fever dream. Every single eye in the room was on me, I did get used to it, but for a while it was a very intense feeling.

I knelt in front of Clockwork who had agreed to conduct the ceremony for me. His voice, at the time I couldn’t really appreciate it as full of nerves as I was, but thinking about it now, it was almost somber. It had a heavy weight to it. Not necessarily sad, but it wasn't happy either.

“Daniel James Fenton also known as Danny Phantom. You have been summoned here today to take the crown, sword, and throne. By right of conquest you alone are fated to be king. You kneel here in front of all your future subjects, who will witness your vows.” I can feel the weight of all the eyes in the room. Clockwork’s stare makes me feel heavy. “First I bequeath you the crown.” He raises the crown high to the crowd then gently places it on my head. The crown is a ring of Ice shards, in varying fractals, inlaid with gems that gleam like stars, an aurora borealis glows above me. “The crown is a symbol of power and authority. It is a powerful emblem representing your sovereignty. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, make sure to use your power and authority wisely.”

He turns to pick up the sword next. Taking it out of its black and silver sheath, he examines the silver steel. The handle is encased in black leather, it is a masterful work of art. It is also functional. He raises it high, then places the tip on one shoulder then the other. He turns the blade flat and places the tip on my head. “The sword is a tool that can be used to maim and destroy. Its sharp tip cuts through both enemies and allies alike. It can also be used to protect and defend. Such is your duty to protect and defend the realms. Ensure that you know who you are pointing it towards before swinging.” He then sheaths the blade before handing it to me.

“Now for your vows before you take your rightful place on the throne.” I raise my head up and look at Clockwork, he nods at me. I take a big breath and nod back. I have to be ready.

“Do you solemnly swear to work for the betterment of the realms?” “I do.”
“Do you swear to uphold the laws of this realm?” “I do.”
“Will you care for the well being of the citizens of these realms and do your best to guide them towards a peaceful and prosperous future?” “I will.”
“Will you be fair and considerate in all of your rulings?” “I will”
“Will you protect and defend the realms till your very core gives out?” “I will”

Clockwork looks at the citizens of the realms before us and calls “Citizens of the realms, you have heard your future king’s vows, do you accept him as your king?” The crowd answers “We do.”
“Will you help him guide the realms towards peace and prosperity?” “We will.”
“Will you advise and counsel him in all matters so that he may make sound and fair judgments?” “We will.”

He nods satisfied, then announces “Then, I pronounce thee King Daniel James Fenton, henceforth to be known as King Danny Phantom! Please, take your throne.” He steps aside as I stand. Then sitting on the throne, I look at the crowd stunned. The roar of the crowd can be heard across the realm. “Long reign the King!”

Time in the Infinite Realms is not quite like what you would expect. I was crowned 5 years ago, or at least if you asked my human friends and family. To the outside world that is how long it has been. In the Infinite Realms, it has been 10 years. Physically I still look like any other 23 year old, I still do have a mortal body after all, but the ghost realm has… enhanced my ghost form. I certainly have a more mature look in this form. It both bothers and comforts me.

I was 18 when I was crowned. It isn't a secret that I was… young and dumb at the time. Most people are when they have just become an adult. I was like every other kid at my school. We all talked about all the big things that we would do once we graduated. All the crazy shit we would get up to. Go to college, get a stupid minimum wage job, throw massive parties, change girlfriends weekly, all of it. Move out of Amity Park. Normal things you know? Leave all of this crazy stuff behind us. Become normal.

I was naive. I never had a shot at any of that. Even if I didn’t become King, I still would have Danny Phantom stuff to deal with. I will admit though, at least I could have pretended to have a shot if it wasn’t for this crown. My human life was over the moment I turned 18. Forced into a crown and position I never thought I would be taking. How was I supposed to know that defeating Pariah Dark would lead to this? I didn’t want to be king at 18, and have all of these heavy responsibilities thrust upon me. The pressure is just as intense now as it was then. Unfortunately Clockwork would not let me have any other fate. Between him and the observants, there was never going to be any other option. Clockwork will say to your face that there is always a choice, but he would never bend when it comes to the good of the realms or the timeline. He pointed out how by doing this I would be protecting everyone, and from there it just spirald into a very convincing argument that did lead to me becoming king.

Every day feels like it has been dragging on lately. I wake up, drag myself out of bed, do paperwork, meet the observants for “important matters”, meet my personal counsel for actually important things when we have the time, hold court, and repeat. Over and over again. This is going to be the rest of my afterlife isn’t it?

I know that Pariah Dark was not the best ruler, that much was obvious, but the sheer amount of not only backlog to get through but also the amount of issues that are being pushed onto my plate is… overwhelming. Gigantic. Massive, in fact. I have tried on numerous occasions to get Clockwork or the observants to help but… “It’s for the eyes of the king only.” “We the observants only observe.” “ I apologise, King Danny, but I have my own duties to attend to.” On and on they go, pouring out excuse after excuse. I was denied help from my friends as well, apparently it’s only for the eyes of the dead. They are not dead yet so it’s a no go. They can help after they are dead according to Clockwork. The observants are right about one thing, I really do need help.

Chapter Text

I walk down the corridors of the castle, making my way to the garden. If I am going to sort through more of the backlog of papers then I’m at least going to do it in a nice environment. The gardens are across the castle from the throne room, I had no say in this particular masterpiece. Sam, as well as several ghosts who are dedicated to the work of conserving plant species across the infinite realms, are in charge of the gardens. I’m sure that Undergrowth also had a hand in this creation. A large twisting tree that I was told the name of but forgot, sits in the very middle of the garden. I can’t tell Sam that I forgot what it is called, she would never let me hear the end of it. Large stones lie around the tree, making for wonderful seating. Different plants fill the flower beds along the walls of the garden. The plants shine with an unearthly glow, looking radioactive. A big arch with crawling vines draped over it lines the paths of the garden. They have flowers that look like lilies glowing amongst the vines. A soft breeze is flowing through the garden, ruffling both leaves and flowers alike. The babbling of a fountain hidden behind the large tree causes me to relax. I take a deep breath appreciating the beauty of the garden. I head down the path that is to the left of the tree to where the greenhouse and patio lie. The cobbled path I follow takes me through some of my favorite flowers, the yellow evening primrose. According to Sam they are a symbol of new beginnings, as well as youth and beauty. I don’t really care about all of that, I just think that they are pretty. I would see them all over the backyard in the spring. I would wait for them to bloom in the evening then I would pluck them from the ground and give them to Jazz, or I would make a flower crown from them and pretend to be king and that they were my crown. It’s not as funny now, but they still mean alot to me. I search for one to join me at the patio, plenty of these lovely blossoms would make for a fine guest. I find one so perfect and pretty with its petals open wide toward the sky. I take it without another thought to spare. Holding it up to my eyes I examine it more closely. Its yellow is soft and sweet, the curves of the petals all match each other nicely. I’m quite Satisfied with my pick. Walking over to the circular pavilion, I take a seat on one of the tan couches and get ready for way too many papers. A clear vase pop’s up in front of me on the table, water already in it. “Thank you.” I say to the servant who I know brought it to me. I place the flower within it, grateful for its company. Snapping my finger, a pile of, ugh, paperwork now lies before me on the table. I quill and inkpot also appear within reach.

There are several different types of paperwork I have to deal with on a daily basis. The first kind is new stuff, the papers from my reign. Things like new laws, ghosts that have to go through the justice system, correspondence, all the things that make this place run as is. Then there is the second type, which is old stuff. This is the paperwork from when Pariah Dark was in charge. This is where most of the problems come from. Not only is there a lot of it, but the various damage reports, executions, laws that do more harm than good have to be dealt with, various political prisoners that have to go through due process, the fact there are not just a couple of reports but thousands of the truly horrifying amount of torture that a staggering amount of ghosts went through is exhausting to deal with on a daily basis. I have to deal with it too. I can’t pawn them off on someone else to deal with because Pariah Dark decreed these papers as “For royal eyes only.” and now that I am king, I am the one who has to deal with all of it. I would have to get Pariah to decree that these papers can be seen by someone else to get help. That is never going to happen. The third type of papers that I care about are reports, from all over the realms. These are the kinds of papers that I can get help with, but I want to know, so I end up reading and using them anyway. I can also look at the other papers that are delegated to my counsel and the observants, but I already have enough to do anyway.

“My king.” A ghost dressed like a medieval servant approaches me. Her brown and red dress sways in the breeze, and her white shirt has her sleeves pushed up above her elbows. A white apron is wrapped around her waist. A red wimple covers the majority of her head only leaving her tight bun sticking out along with a few curls that frame her face. She floats toward me with a silver tea set in hand. Biscuits and sandwiches also line the tray. “Cassandra.” I turn and greet her. She bows low before me before speaking. “I thought that you might appreciate a quick bite to eat my lord, and that some refreshing tea might not be amiss as well.” She places the tray on the table next to the stack of paper work and flower. Did.. did the pile of paperwork get larger when I wasn't looking? I could have sworn that it wasn’t that big when I was looking at it before? Sigh. Oh well. “Please join me Cassandra.” I wave toward the chair that sits on the other side of the table. “Oh, no, my lord I possibly couldn’t, it wouldn’t be right.” She shuffles nervously, trying not to offend me. “Please Cassandra, you would be taking a weight off my mind.” I smile charmingly at her hoping to wear her down. Cassandra has been my personal servant ever since my coronation. I also have been trying for years now, to make her my friend, but she stubbornly insists that it wouldn’t be proper. She was a servant in a castle while she was alive, and even after death, still wanted to continue serving. She is one of the few blessings that came with this crown.

“Oh, blast you, my lord, fine.” With a huff she sits down in front of me caving into my wishes for once. “But only and I do mean only to serve you alright?” She quickly assembles me a tea cup and small plate of food. She snatches the papers I had been working on out of my hands and replaces it with the dishes. “You should eat something my lord, you are entirely too skinny.” She mutters under her breath about annoying counsel members and something about me working too hard. “ I’m not skinny!” I protest, “These are grade A muscles don’t you know?” I flex my biceps, making sure to wiggle my eyebrows as well. She looks at me dryly, not taking my bs even for a single second. Sighing I change the subject, “Do you think that the observants might be right? Even my own counsel is making hints about how I should get hitched.” She hmms, thinking for a second, taking in my question. “Well, do you want to be married?” She looks at me seriously, face flat in a neutral expression. “No.” I respond with as much seriousness as I can inject into my voice. “There is no one currently that I would marry, I will still ask those who I can, but, I have no interest in anyone at the moment. Maybe If there was the right person I would.” I look off thoughtfully. “Who would be the right person?” Her voice is lined with so much curiosity that it is practically bursting at the seams. If she was capable of producing puppy dog eyes, she would be doing them now.

“I… I don’t know?” my voice feels shaky, uncertain. “I mean, I have been accused of having a type in the past.” Basically anyone who could dominate me. “Though, maybe that is the problem? I need someone to be my partner more than someone that would attempt to… control me, I guess. I have always dated the type of woman who is independent and has a backbone of steel. I really do love them still but, it never really felt like they were my partner you know? They wanted to make all of the decisions for us and not together. With some of them It was closer to someone that I was working with but also just happened to be my friend that I loved if you get it. They also had a strong idea of what they wanted out of me more than they wanted me.” I think back on how with Valerie and Sam they both ended up being better friends than girlfriends. Paulina wanted what I could do for her, rather than actually liking me. I really know how to pick em huh?

“I guess I would want someone who is independent but also works really well with a partner. Someone who needs me as much as I need them. Someone who has both the mental fortitude and patience to deal with a whole fuck ton of bullshit. Someone who is kind and compassionate, but still has a steel spine. They need to be competent but not overly prideful. Someone who will listen and figure out what I need and be able to do with it without needing a bunch of guidance. Someone with power and authority but uses it wisely.” I blink, taking a deep breath. “I want someone who prioritizes the same things that I do, family, friends, and the responsibility that we will hold together. It also wouldn't hurt if they were attractive. Oh and they have to have died or be dead or something in between because the observants will not accept anything less, am I missing anything?” My rant slowly peters off until there is nothing but silence between us. I take a sip of my now cold tea.
“That… is quite the list my king…” She looks at me stunned. “It is also rather… oddly specific.” She wipes her hands on her apron. “I do not know if there is anyone out there with such specific criteria. I would have to look around and talk to a few ghosts.”

“Oh, please, Cassandra, don’t go through such efforts on my behalf, I know that who I described to you would never be found. I appreciate the effort but, there is no need, truly.”

She shakes her finger at me like I'm a naughty dog. “Now, my king, never say never. Besides my king,” She reaches over the table to grasp my hand gently “have some hope. Sometimes fate works in mysterious ways.”

Chapter Text

I have had a lack of control in my life ever since I was born. I could never control the things that happened to me, my childhood was defined by never having a safe spot in my home. From the serious lack of safety protocols in the lab, to food constantly coming back to life, and the domination of ghost related matters constantly taking priority over me, the only thing that I could control was me. My reaction, my body, my health, I belonged to me. Then, I didn’t even belong to me. I died, and my own body became something foreign to me. I got it back for a minute, but then, well, things happened and I was dead again. New instincts and impulses took over my brain. My body betrayed me by turning me intangible and invisible constantly. A need, no, obsession to protect driving me crazy. I didn’t understand why I was only half dead, half alive. I learned to deal with it. To gain control over my own self once again. To take this need… this.. Obsession, and turn it into something that I could use. I became a protector, a defender, someone important. Someone who was in control. 

I then lost control, my own future self taking over Amity. Taking my life to make sure that I became like him. That I would lose control permanently, over my obsession, my morals, my sense of self. That I would turn out just as twisted as he was, so consumed by his need to control others he forgot to control himself. He didn’t care who or what he hurt, he was going to kill our family just so he could control me. Make me dance along like I was his puppet. Luckily, Clockwork helped me prevent that future.

I never want to be like him. I want to continue to care. I want to maintain control over myself, what am I without control? I may not be able to control everything that happens to me in life or death, but I will control not only how I react to it, but also how I deal with the things that happen to me. There are certain lines in life that I never want to cross, and being a murder is one of them. That is the kind of person Dan was trying to turn me into. I have actually since talked to Dan about the things that happened during that particular incident, but I don’t know If I feel comforted by the things that he said.

“Dan.” I greet as neutrally as I can manage. We are at Clockworks tower, where Dan is now forced to reside. The observants wanted to destroy Dan’s core, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree with them.

“Dan?” my older self asks, mouth pursing with derision. “Why am I “Dan” when you could be “Dan”? If you didn’t want to share a name, all you had to do was change yours.” He smirks at me knowing that I want to punch his face off already. 

“I am the rightful Danny Phantom of this universe, first of all, so you can’t have the name Danny, and secondly, it’s a mix of Vlad and Danny, just like you are.” I smile back as sweetly as I can, hoping that I got under his skin. It’s not that I hate him, it’s just… he’s not my favorite person obviously.

He sneers, “Dan is not a mix of Vlad and Danny, and even if it was, what makes you think I would want to be named in such a manner?”

“Did I say anything about caring about how you want to be named? It’s not as if you cared about what I thought when you were trying to take over my life. Besides, you are just like Vlad anyway, creepy and controlling. A fruitloop.”

“My dear,” Here he purrs like the creepy person he is, “ you are creepy and controlling too.”

“Yeah… I am not going to be like you .” I state this with as much emphasis as I can possibly fit into my words. “In fact, I am here so that I can learn how not to be like you.” I look him up and down slowly, ensuring he knows just how much I am judging him with that single look of mine. One that practically screams just how much better I am than him.

“Oh?” he laughs uproariously, “you are trying to learn how not to be me by,” He snorts  “by talking to me ?” He completely loses it after this, laughing so loudly it echoes across the tower. Birds fly off toward the distance disturbed by what they heard. Tears appear in his eyes as he wipes them away. “ I can’t! This is too funny! You don’t know that you are doomed anyway!”

“Shut up.”

“You are me!” He sits up from where he was laughing on the floor. “You have to understand Danny, I am made from the person that you are now. Every action you take, every thought in your brain, all of them are what makes me. ” He stands up and walks over to one of the mirrors that show varying realties. “What do you see Danny?” he gestures to the mirror.

“ Shut up. ”

“I will tell you what I see. I see a universe that doesn't understand the truth.” The mirror shows my Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie chatting and eating at the theater watching a movie. I had invited them to hang out but… I went to confront Dan instead. “One, that doesn’t understand or maybe…accept just how much you need to control everything. You need to control your friends, your family, all in an effort to keep them safe. That's why you arranged for them to hangout, but then told them that you were busy . All so that you would know exactly where they were while you went to take care of little old me.” He smiles knowingly. “And the reason that I know that is what you did? Well, It’s because you are me.”

“ SHUT UP!!!” My ghostly wail shoots him across the room and he flies into the wall. Cracks form as his head slams into the wall. He is knocked out cold. When he slumps into the ground I get the strong urge to beat him into a pulp. Until he no longer exists. Holding back the urge, I sigh instead.

“Danny.” Clockwork calls from behind me. He slowly floats to me, his form rotating between his baby, adult, and old forms. He settles into his old form. “You know as well as he does that it is our choices that matter the most.” He waits patiently for a reply but I give him none. I stay silent knowing that he allowed this encounter to occur by showing my friends at the movies in his mirror. He knows what he did.

The sigh that comes from Clockwork’s mouth is long and full of suffering. “ Daniel,” I grimace making sure he knows how I feel about this, “If you don’t want to end up like him, then perhaps you should think about what I’ve said during our previous conversations.” His eyes are knowing. And the thing is, he knows that I know.

“I have thought about it.” I am fully irritated now. “My answer Clockwork is still NO.” I turn away from him, done with his attempts at making me king.

“Danny, if you want to avoid a fate like his,” he nods to the still passed out Dan, “Then you need to make different choices than what he would make. He would never become king, not like you could, or even would. He is entirely too selfish. He only cares about himself. You… on the other hand, care about everyone.” He switches to his baby form. “Think about it, you could protect everyone not just with your fighting skills, but you would also be protecting them from yourself.” His adult form finishes his thought.

“If I really wanted to protect everyone from myself, I would destroy my core.” I toss my head to the side gesturing at Dan. “I can’t ruin everything if I don’t exist.”

“That is not the only solution that lies before you. You cannot convince me that it is truly the best solution for your concerns. Additionally, if you were truly intent on that solution I would have seen it. I have not seen you take this path. My solution offers you everything that you want, I do not see why you are so resistant to taking it.”

“Clockwork,” exhaustion lines my voice, countless different arguments want to fly out of my mouth. The denisons of the infinite realms would not accept me as king. I am not ready to be king. I would not be a good king, all of these arguments battle to fly out of my mouth. “I cannot be king.” is instead what comes out.

“Why is that?” he asks softly, nicely, like he wants to hear why. I know that he doesn't. He just wants me to agree to be king. “You know why Clockwork, please stop nagging me.” I sit down on the floor. I don’t want to do this with him again. It feels like every time we meet he is nagging me to take the crown. I can’t lie, I'm close to giving in to him.

I do want to be in control of the realms, I could make my life easier if I could just order all of the ghosts to stop attacking Amity, but, I don’t want the responsibilities that come with it though. Settling arguments, dealing with laws, dealing with the, ugh, observants all of the time, I want none of that. Not to mention paperwork. I mean like, I could make jokes like “How does a mouse deal with stress at the office?  By clicking the “escape” button!” but honestly I think I’m even beyond jokes now. This really is serious. Clockwork is serious. He wouldn't put as much effort into convincing me if he wasn’t serious.

“Come on Danny, it really is just as easy as agreeing. You wouldn’t even be alone in dealing with all of that paperwork.” The word eventually is muttered under his breath. He shifts again, the bright eyes of his baby form seem piercing. “You have fallen as the being that you know as Dan, you can pick Danny up by becoming king. Then, Dan’s fate would never be yours. You would be a new being completely separate from his choices. He could never be you.” The baby softness of his voice compels me to listen to him rather than wailing him into the ground like I would rather do to him. He seems so sincere I could cry. I want to cry and rage at the injustice being done to me. Clockwork knows that I want to agree. I would have power, I want power, I want it so badly because I could do so much good with it. I just worry about how bad I would be if I did have it. “If you are worried about you becoming like him, I would never let that happen to you.” His voice sounds like a promise, his adult form looking like it could solve everything for me. A stable adult that I can trust. I can’t trust him, I know what he wants. “Please, Danny, if not for yourself, then do it to protect your friends and family.” The ancient eyes of his old form seem all knowing, as if telling me what would happen if I didn’t take him up on his offer. He is acting like an old grandpa, like he is my family, like he knows me. He isn’t my family. Tears roll down my face as I hunch over, taken by the emotions rolling in me. Gasping breaths leave my lungs. Is this a panic attack? Am I having a panic attack? “Dan is a controlling, single minded villain, he doesn't know you like I do, you don’t want to be like him do you?” I can’t be like Dan. I wouldn't be like Dan. “Dan was never king Danny, you could be King Danny,and set your path apart from his . Just say yes.” He comes and floats above me, I’m still on my knees, close to passing out. “What do you say Danny?” He floats to where his head is eye level with mine, back to his baby form. 

“ Please ?”

Chapter Text

I lay in bed. The sun is punishing my eyes with its bright light as it seeps in through the windows, past the thick curtains. The sheets tangled my legs to the point where I couldn't tell where my legs began and the sheets ended. The pillows are disorderly and ruined with tears. Food sits on the nightstand untouched. Its smell makes me nauseous. I don't know how long it has been. Days and nights seem to pass by in one massive large blur. I don't remember when I got up last. I think that Alfred has been checking up on me regularly but I can't remember the last time he did. All I hear is the sound of my heart beating in my chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. My breathing is slow and labored. Crust has formed around my red, bloodshot eyes.

Grief has taken me. I mourn the life that he should have had. He should have graduated. I would have watched him put on his cap, hair styled perfectly by Alfred. His cute bangs hanging in front of his face. A gown would have been over a nice crisp suit that made him look dignified and respectable. A nice color, maybe in black with red accents. Gold buttons and jewelry. He would have sat amongst his classmates smirking and confidently strutted to get his diploma. He would have been so proud to have graduated. I would have cried for sure. Would he have been valedictorian? He certainly was smart enough that he could have. I can see him starting a book club at school, making friends outside of the suit. He would have gotten in so much trouble with a solid group of friends. Snorting I think of how much trouble he was without the extra chaos. I wish he still was causing chaos.

He should have gone to college too. What would he have gotten a degree in? He would at least finish so he could hold his degree over Dick’s head. Brag about how he would be the only one with a degree in the family. He would make for a great literacy professor. He certainly has the passion for literature that would be needed. I bet he would have so much fun living it up on campus, he wouldn't want to come home with how much fun he would be having. I would have to bribe him with Alfred’s cookies. I would have to go to him to visit and help him decorate his dorm and make sure that he signs up for all of his classes.

I bet he would meet someone nice at college. A sweet girl perhaps? Maybe he would be more interested in a sarcastic witty type of guy. Certainly not the red haired lovers that Dick seems to pick up. Whoever he would end up with doesn't matter. It would be important that they loved each other. That they cared and wanted to be with each other. That they shared some common interests, that their values aligned. He would definitely try to keep whoever he was dating private. He wouldn't want me or Dick poking our nose in it. He would claim that “your overbearing ass is going to scare them off!” How much bad love advice would Dick give him? 

God. I would have gotten to see him get married. He would have a little ceremony I think. Only friends and family. I think he would want lots of flowers, very soft and romantic. A large chapel with stained glass windows. A vaulted ceiling with lots of white drapery. Dick might be his best man, depending on whether or not they had argued about something. I can see him in a classic tux except, if he was marrying a guy, he would wear white. He would write his own vows. I never had a talent for words like Jason did.

Huffing softly I roll over, trying to get comfortable. The bed has lost its comfort a long time ago. An ache has set into my bones. It doesn't matter though.

He is gone.

I never expected this. I… don't have any sort of plan. Any contingencies. I… I don't know.

 How do I cope with the loss of my son?

I know most people would have a funeral. Mourn. Grieve for the loss of their loved one. Choose to remember them in ways that feel tangible. Maybe have a picture or a vase of ashes or an altar. I don't have any of that, only the memories in my head that seem to fade the more and more I try to desperately remember them. I try to think about what his hair smells like, or the little tapping thing he would do with his finger when he was thinking. The way when he would smile he would raise his right side of his mouth then the left. At first his smiles were never really noticeable unless you paid close attention, but as he grew and thrived he smiled more freely. Even these memories, though, grow dull and heavy with grief. I didn't know how important they were to me until I only had them. I am slowly losing them. Losing him.

I can't do it anymore. I can't do it!

I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING. ANYTHING.

I…cannot accept his death. What can I do though? It's not like I can just … walk to wherever people go after they die and just… take him …

Or… maybe? Maybe I can? In a world where Gods and aliens and superheroes exist… Why wouldn't I be able to?

I shouldn't. I am not a god. There could be severe consequences for such actions…

But. Jason. He…

He died so young. I want to give him his life back if I can. He deserves to be able to live again. I want him to live again. I want to see him live and graduate highschool and get a girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever he wants! I want to buy him every single thing he could ever want, all of the rare copies of classic books. I want to see him happy. That is my truest wish. He can't do that if he is dead.

I am going to do whatever it takes.

Sitting up causes a rush of blood to my head. My vision flickers in and out of existence. Black spots enter my view. I ignore all of it and try to stand up.

Thump!

My body hits the floor, unable to stand up after everything I have been putting it through. Grabbing the edge of the bed I pull myself up with gritted teeth.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred’s worried voice calls through the bedroom door. “May I come in?” I mean to respond properly to him but, all that comes out of my voice is a horse, choked sound. A new wave of hatred hits me. The sound of the door opening registers in my brain. I made Alfred worry when he is grieving too. I don't deserve him. A gentle hand on my cheek interrupts my thoughts. “Bruce.” I look at him, I can't help but search his gaze, what I am looking for I don't entirely understand, but I need something. “My boy,” Alfred’s voice is calm and steady like always. “It's good to see you up.” His hand slides down off my face, and I realize that there is stubble on my face. How long have I been here?

His arms wrap around me gently. His hands are rubbing my back and my head sits in the crook of his neck. Sobs are torn from my already abused throat. Hugging him back strongly, tears run down my cheeks and I am left holding onto Alfred like he is a life raft in a storm. I can hear him crying too. It's not loud, it feels quiet, muted. It is a small comfort to know that he is still here with me. That he hasn't left me alone.

He lets go and takes a step back as my sobs quiet. His prim and proper mask slides back on. I take a moment to breathe hoping that I can recompose myself. “Master Bruce, it is time for a shower or bath since you are up. Take some time to…” here his nose wrinkles, “freshen up shall we say?” He looks at the bathroom meaningfully. “I shall … tidy the bed in the meantime.” He eyes the bed disdainfully.  I know that he is not trying to make me feel worse, but having the state that I am in and the conditions that I have been laying in pointed out so plainly… It doesn't feel good. I know that I am not really looking the best right now, and that the conditions that I had been in recently were not ideal, but I would appreciate a little leeway.  Regardless, it is not a bad suggestion. Nodding to Alfred, I muster up the will to walk to the bathroom. 

Each step feels heavy and slow. The walk to the bathroom feels like it takes forever. The cold of the wood hitting my bare feet. Sliding my feet along more than actually walking, I do finally make it to the bathroom. The chill of the room makes its way into my body.  I avoid the mirror. I don't want to know what I look like. Stepping over to the large claw foot tub, I turn on the gold tap. Uncaring of the temperature of the water, I efficiently strip myself of the clothes that I had been wearing and throw myself in. The shock of the cold water hits first, then the pain that shoots through my muscles. Groaning, the stiffness that has been present for so long finally starts to ease as the water warms up slowly. Grabbing the soap from the side of the tub I begin to lather my body and hair. The water turns greyer the more I wash myself off. The squeaky clean feeling of skin emerges more and more. When the last of the dirtiness is gone, I pull the plug to let the water drain. I watch the now dirty water spin around and around in a small vortex pulling everything under into the drain. I can't help but wonder what it would be like to be pulled under. To wash away with the rest of the dirtiness. Lost in a maze of pipes, never to be seen again.

Getting up from the tub I find toothpaste and a toothbrush lying beside a set of fresh comfortable clothes on the counter. Deodorant and a razor also make an appearance. I ignore the razor for the moment and reach for the toothbrush. Brushing my teeth after all of… this feels incredibly strange. I just had one of the worst mental breakdowns I have ever had in my life, but I am standing here just, brushing my teeth. Like having a breakdown is perfectly normal or like today is any other day. Like everything is the same ever since Jason died. I catch myself frowning in the mirror. I look away. Distracting myself I reach for the deodorant and then get dressed in the black shirt and pants that Alfred provided. I now have to look in the mirror if I want to shave. I want to shave but, I don't think I can bear to look at the person I will see in the mirror. Deciding to look up, I see myself properly for the first time in days. I don't recognize myself. A thick layer of stubble has taken over my jaw and around my mouth. My skin looks pale and sunken in. Eye bags that could be called black seem to have taken a permanent residence under my eyes. My eyes are wide, watery and bloodshot. My pupils are so blown out that they are gigantic black voids. Big red splotchy marks stretch across my face. Shiney tear tracks are etched into my skin. My hair is wild and untamed, flying out in every direction, and sopping wet. I have clearly lost weight. To sum it up, I look terrible. 

I quickly reach for the razor hoping that I will look a little better without the stubble. Efficiently I swipe the blade along my face getting rid of the horrible beard. As the blade creeps closer to my neck I resist the urge to swipe a little harder. A little more deep. I redirect my brain to look for any stray hairs that I have missed instead. Finding none, I place the razor back down carefully like it is a loaded gun.

Though… I do have a point. I can't miss Jason if I just .. meet him sooner than intended. My hand slowly reaches for the razor, a simple thought starting to consume my mind.

Knock knock. “Have you finished Master Bruce?” Alfred's timely arrival stops any further thoughts. I go to open the door rather than respond to him. The door slides open revealing Alfred’s neutral expression, but his eyes are full of worry and concern. He looks me over carefully, eyes picking apart every detail, ensuring that I am still as well as I can be. “Well, that certainly is an improvement isn't it sir? May I suggest some light lunch?” Well that is clearly not a suggestion. The thought of eating makes me nauseous but if I am going to do something, I have to get my energy back. Instead of denying the food I nod my head in agreement and head off to the door of the bedroom, pushing past Alfred. He looks at me incredulous, his gaze flickering between me and the door. “Ah, I see, you wish to eat in the kitchen. Very well, a change in scenery might do you some good.” He offers me a smile as he goes over to the nightstand to retrieve the tray that he brought in. He must have done that while he was changing the sheets. The tray appears to have some kind of soup and a slice of white bread next to it, toasted to a golden brown. A cup of tea sits on the tray, catching a whiff of it, it appears to be my favorite, mint with honey.

I hold the door open for him politely. “Thank you sir.” He walks into the hallway slowly waiting for me to catch up. I hurry along to walk beside him. We don't talk as we walk towards the kitchen on the ground floor. Instead I watch the light and shadows in the hallway as we walk past them, each one slightly different from the other. A beam of light from the window hits a photo. A very familiar one. It's the one I was looking at the day I argued with Jason before he died. Next to it though, is a picture of Jason.  He is holding a certificate for most improvement from when he was younger. Back when he first started school he struggled in a lot of regards, but with diligent support and a whole lot of hard work from him, he became one of the top students in his year academically. We were all so proud of him.

I turn away looking out the window, and a bright green figure with purple catches my eye. Blinking the figure disappears. What?

What was that?

There is no way that…

I must be seeing things. It can't be the Joker… I…

Shuddering I push past every instinctual reaction that I want to have to think logically. The height of the figure was too tall to be him. Additionally if it was him I doubt he would want to cover his face with a hood. None of the alarms went off as well, so that helps disprove my theory. It happened so quickly and quietly which the Joker never does.

So who was that then? I don't have any answers. I want to know but, tipping Alfred off that something was amiss might cause him more concern. Besides I am not even truly sure of what I saw. I will simply have to investigate after I eat.

Stepping down the stairs in the foyer, I contemplate how to achieve my goal. The first thought that comes to mind is old mythology. Hades and Persephone, Orpheus and Euridecyes, Izanami and Izanagi, Inanna and Ereshkigal. All involve someone going to the underworld or dying and coming back irrevocably changed. There must be some grain, some kernel of truth in them.

In the mythology about Hades and Persephone, there are a few different versions. In some versions Hades kidnapped Persephone after seeing her in her mother's fields. Various paintings over the years have depicted this version of the myth including The Abduction of Proserpina which has largely been attributed to Rembrandt, and The Rape of Proserpine by Peter Paul Rubens. Other versions include a more willing Persephone who ventures into the underworld of her own accord, or willingly eats the pomegranate of the underworld. The pomegranate causes her to spend half of her time in the underworld and half of her time in the world above. In a few versions, that decision is made by Zeus who decrees that she spends half of her time with her husband and the other half of her time with her mother. Her mother Demeter always goes on a long journey looking for her daughter, refusing to grow crops, causing death and famine wherever she goes. Deep unyielding winter. If I were to draw parallels to my own situation, am I Demeter or perhaps a curious Persepone? Either way, once I go down that rabbit hole, there will be no going back. I will be irrevocably changed in some form or fashion.

Then, there is Orpheus and Euridecyes. Their story plays out a little more constantly. They always meet and get married. Orpheus is always blessed by the gods, and holds an extraordinary musical talent. Euridecyes always dies, usually to a snake bite. How she gets bitten does change, in some versions she is being chased and in others she is dancing with the nymphs. In one version, she is lured under by Hades himself. Either way she is separated from her lover. Then, Orpheus has to make a long arduous journey through the underworld to meet his love to save her. He has to go through various trials including meeting Cerberus. He meets the King and Queen of the underworld, and begs for the life of his love. Only through the power of song does he convince Persephone to allow him a chance to get her back. She asks Hades to give him a chance. The tale plays out the same every time. He has to get out of the underworld with her following him. He cannot look back at her, if he does then she stays there forever. He always looks back plagued by worry and doubt. The end of Orpheus’s life changes from tale to tale, but rarely is it a happy ending. I do not want my tale to end like his.

In the kitchen Alfred sets down the tray he has been carrying, it makes an audible clattering sound as it gets put in front of a chair at the bar. I sit. The soup is likely cold by now but I am not sure if I care, it should be fine. Reaching for the spoon I catch empty air instead. “I will warm this up for you sir, warmth always pairs well with a good meal, perhaps you should indulge yourself with the tea instead for the moment.” He hands me the still warm cup of tea. 

Sipping the warm mint tea soothes my throat. “Thank you Alfred.” My voice sounds hoarse. “Of course Master Bruce.” He walks over to the stove to warm the soup. “Master Bruce, I do not wish to cause you further distress, but have you considered what you will do next?”

Do next? I know what I will do next but I can't tell him that, he would disapprove of such an ill thought out plan. It's not like he could stop me though regardless. “What do you mean by that Alfred?”

“With Master Jason.” The breath leaves my lungs. I stare at Alfred who is starting to show his nerves. His eyes are tightened around the corners and his mouth is slightly pursed. His shoulders are held tight, waiting for an inevitable blow up. “You haven't made any arrangements for Master Jason.” He turns to look at me. “I thought… that perhaps…” He turns to the stove and removes the soup to serve. “Perhaps you would rather I make the necessary arrangements? If only so I may remove that…weight from your shoulders. I do not want you to feel like you have to do this by yourself. Master Jason was important to me too, I would like to help you with this.” He places the now hot soup in front of me.

I stare at him uncomprehendingly. “Alfred…” my voice trails off uneasy. It is not that I don't want Alfred’s help but, I need Jason unburied. If I get his soul back then I need a body for him. “I’m not ready…” my voice is barely a whisper. “Can… can we wait a little longer please? Would you mind arranging it so that he would be preserved for a little longer?” I am pleading now. “Dick isn’t back. He has to get back. I don't want to do this without him. Alfred please.”  Hopefully I have bought myself a little time. “Master Bruce there is only so long we can put these sorts of things off. What if the tabloids find out?” “Alfred!” My hands slam on the counter of the bar. “Dick doesn't even know that Jason is dead! You want to bury him without Dick even knowing?!” The words hiss in anger. “I will not do that to him! Do you understand me?” Alfred swallows before in a soft whisper “I… understand. Perhaps that is for the best.” He clears his throat and stands straight. “As you wish Master Bruce, I will have it arranged, but the consequences shall be yours to bear should the papers find out.”

“I understand Alfred.” I look at the soup. Sighing I resign myself to eating when it has never sounded so unappetizing before. Instead of furthering this distressing conversation, I reach for the bowl of soup and get to eating. At the very least it will pacify Alfred a little. 

The soup was gone quickly, I was more hungry than I thought. “Done already sir? Would you like another serving perhaps?” He looks at me hopefully. “No thank you Alfred.”

Instead I choose to leave the kitchen, I have to do more research. The required information certainly wouldn't be on the bat computer as unfortunate as that is, however there is a secondary option. Books. There must be some kernel of truth in the mythology. How do these people get into the underworld? That is the question I need answers to. First though, I should check out where I saw that figure in the window.

Chapter Text

Backtracking to where I saw the purple and green figure, I exited to the gardens. The gardens were Alfred's masterpiece, he kept my mother's roses alive with a deliberate diligence.  The white rose bushes were the main feature of this part of the garden. Alfred would let me hire outside help to maintain the large gardens, but he would never let me offer help with this particular part. The stone pavers wind between the beds of roses, and a simple patio swing sits in between a set of rose bushes. Two twin small stone tables sit on both sides of the swing.

“Time out.” A commanding voice calls. Everything around me freezes. It is eerily quiet. No bird song, no leaves rustling, there is nothing. It's frozen. A bird is stopped mid flight, and the world is still. A snapshot of a moment in time. I turn to face the green and purple figure from earlier. This is not the Joker, but still an unknown.

“Who are you?” I demand, shoulders tense and my hands clenched into fists. A new rogue? Something worse?

The figure is wearing a purple cloak, with an ancient grandfather clock in their chest, their skin is a bluish green, intense red eyes, and they hold a staff with a stopwatch on the top. Various watches and clocks adorn his outfit, a single purple gear pins his cloak together. A faint ticking noise can be heard emanating from the figure. A green hue seems to surround the figure. A strong sense of authority and power can be felt radiating off him. His posture is tall and straight, regal. He moves to sit on the patio swing next to the tables, he floats above the cushions unexpectedly.

“Hello Bruce Wayne, or should I call you Batman? Either way, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He floats with an ethereal sort of grace, the kind that I have observed in those who are not human. His voice, it reminds me of something that is almost… timeless. It is as though he speaks from everything and everywhere all at once. It is a disconcerting feeling, even for me. “I am Clockwork, the Master of Time.” I feel overwhelmed by the sheer presence of this being. I do not yield however. I stand even taller and look this being in the eyes.

Bruce Wayne may pretend to cower before such beings but Batman would never falter.  “What is your purpose here?” My voice is harsh, this “master of time” can't be here for any good reason. Usually time based shenanigans are the worst sort of problems to deal with. God I hope this has nothing to do with the Flash. I appreciate Barry, I really do, but with all of the problems I already have I do not need to deal with those types of issues on top of what is already going on. Besides if there were Barry related problems, I would rather Clockwork go to Barry himself, or at least, go to the watchtower.

“I know what you are going to do Mr. Wayne.” His gaze is intense on my face.  Almost like he can see into my soul. “You seek a way to bring your son back. You are thinking about traveling to the realm of the dead are you not?” He pauses and waits for a response. I am not going to give him anything. “Hmm.” “ No need to answer, I already know. I wish to help you with that endeavor. You see, your actions here could greatly benefit me. That is my purpose here.” My actions benefit him? What exactly does that mean? What could the master of time want from me that helps him? Is it something that I do? I stare at him and I wait. He can tell me more of what he wants. “I would like to offer you some information that I believe would be beneficial. Namely where to find answers on how to get to the underworld.” He smiles like he just told me a really important secret. I don’t know how to react. It sounds insane frankly. Though, weider things have happened to me. It's time related shenanigans isn't it? I want to sigh but I hold back.

“Hmm.” What he offers is interesting but I have no idea if what he is saying is actually the truth. He could be lying for any number of reasons, or plain delusional. I certainly have enough rouges that fit that particular criteria. My gut says that there is more to this than that. I suppose I could ask Zantanna or Constantine, but I don't know if they would know anything about this either. Constantine tends to deal more with demons and other such matters, while Zantanna focuses on more purely magical problems, still it cannot hurt to ask. I will make sure to contact them after this.

“You should seek out a certain gothic spirit. She may take a particular delight in your company.”  He reaches into his cloak and pulls out an object that is etched with a strange language. A faint ticking noise can be heard from the device. It looks like a mixture of a clock and a compass, but with only one hand on the face. There are numbers around the device like a clock but only in the four directions. “This will guide your way. You merely need to let it take your hand.” He sets the strange object on the table near him. “Good luck Mr.Wayne, you might need it. Time in.” With those last cryptic words, the being disappears.

Do I grab the weird clock? Do I take this odd opportunity that has been offered to me? A chance to have what I want if I trust this being… this stranger whose motivations I have doubts about? I have never been the kind of person to trust easily, the kind of person to put the things I care about in the hands of others. There are only a few people that I would say that I completely trust, chief amongst them are the people that are in my family. I would not be the person that I am without them, and that is the truth of it. The question I have to pose for myself is what would I do for my family?

The answer?

Anything.

I reach over to the table and grab the device. I can feel its presence, it's a heavy weight in my hand for such a small object, I feel like my hand is attached to it. A strong pulling sensation makes me want to step in the direction that it is indicating. It’s an odd feeling. I place the device down and the pull stops. So I can control the pulling sensation. It appears to merely be a guide like Clockwork claimed. I do trust Clockwork a little more however, I would still like to verify with my own sources before completely trusting an unknown entity. I pick up the clock and place it in my pocket.

It’s time to call in backup.

I head to my office to get to the cave, where I have communications with the watchtower. The walk to the cave is thankfully quiet. I believe that the Justice League Dark has a meeting tonight, how convenient… if that being is the master of time like he claimed does that mean that.. he planned this? Caused a situation in which a meeting might be called, lead me with enough hints to make me want to call them, and everything that I am doing now is a part of his plan? Do… do I not contact the JLD? But then is that what he intends for me? To do this by myself? Stopping, I hesitate. On one hand, it feels really suspicious that what I want is getting handed to me on a silver platter with nothing being asked in return, but on the other hand, my son. Jason. He is offering me a way to have Jason. I just need to follow along… as reluctant as I am. However, I get the feeling that no matter what I do, I would be dancing along to Clockwork’s plans regardless of what I do. By doing it this way I am at least getting something out of this.

Giving up on playing 4d chess with an interdimensional being with no information, for now, I arrive at the entrance to the cave. Walking down the steps gives me a chance to calm my thoughts, the mask of Batman slowly sliding into place. I suit up sans the cowl, instead opting for a domino. I approach the computer and sit at the swivel chair.The Batcomputer™ silently whirrs into action with a push of a button. I quickly enter my passcode and send a request to the watchtower. “Batman to Watchtower. Comms open?”

“Watchtower to Batman, this is Manhunter. Comms open.” J’onn appears on screen in front of me, calm and steady as always. “What can I do for you Batman?” He looks at me concerned, eyes checking me for injury. It has been a while since I have contacted the league about anything, he has the right to be concerned. I… don’t really want to hide from my friend. J’onn understands loss, he feels grief. I should talk to him. “Open the zeta please Manhunter? I have business to conduct on the watchtower. I would also appreciate the opportunity to talk to you privately about something…important to me.” The zetas are not always open, to limit the amount of traffic coming through the tower. Requiring someone on the other side to open it also acts as extra security for the watchtower, helping to prevent certain… incidents we have had in the past. (Aka Barry coming to the watchtower just to eat all the food then leave.) “Of course Batman, opening zeta now.” His eyes flicker away to the button next to the monitor that opens the zetas. Hearing the zeta roar to life in the background, I sigh in relief. “Zetas open Batman, closing in five minutes.” His attention focuses on me, concern becoming even more apparent. I’m sure that if I was next to him, our feelings would be mixing and resonating. I often allow a mental connection between J’onn and me, it is quite beneficial for us both. It allows me to communicate with another being in a manner that doesn't fail me like words do. For him it allows a connection to another mind, like the kind he had back on Mars, to be fully integrated into someone else.It feels nice to be seen and understood by J’onn. We have a mental connection that I can not fully encompass in words. “Batman…” his voice trails off uncertainty, “I… will see you on the watchtower. We will speak when you have the opportunity. Privately.” He turns to glare at someone next to him, when “Hi Batman!!!” The Flash enters the frame moving fast enough to where the video looks like it is lagging. “It’s nice to see you!” Barry’s grin lights up and a crinkle forms next to his eye. His helmet is off in his hands. He begins to bounce enthusiastically. “Wow! It’s been a while since anyone has seen you! Can we talk at some point while you are here? It would be nice to catch up.” He gives me the biggest puppy eyes that no grown man should be able to make. Unfortunately for him the only puppy eyes I have ever succumbed to have been.. My sons. Son. “Batman?” Flash asks cautiously. Concern now rests on his features too. “Are… you ok? If you need something, I’m here for you!” In his enthusiasm he pushes J'onn out of the frame in an attempt to get closer to the monitor. J’onn pushes Barry back so he is now back in the frame with him. “It is as he says, if you are in need of anything, we will be happy to help.” J’onn nods decisively, imploring me to seek them out. It is rather sweet of them. He redirects the conversation, “Please enter the zeta before it closes, it would be unwise to wait much longer.” I nod back at them, showing I understand their words. “Very well. Batman to watchtower, signing out.”

“Watchtower to Batman, received. Signing out.” “See you soon Batman!” Barry waves with more force than could possibly be needed. The video closes and turns to black. I sigh with more force than I thought I would. I feel tired already. I have to get up though. I unenthusiastically walk over to the zeta that is in the corner of the cave then stepping in. The zeta activates with a click and then a whoosh. I arrive at the watchtower with little fanfare. A sleek silver futuristic room greets me. No one is around. I close my eyes, thankful. I was so sure that- a whistle sound announces Barry’s presence- that Barry would be here waiting for me. “Batman!” He jumps up and wraps his arms around me in a hug. He squeezes me tight. Then realising who he is hugging his face falls, he steps away nervously and he scratches the back of his head looking sheepish. “Sorry.” I roll my eyes (not that he can see that) and instead of pushing him away or scolding him, I just open my arms and wait. One hug is not going to kill me, and like he said, it has been a while. I’m pretty sure that he needs this. His face lit up and then I knew that this was the right move. I might be exhausted, but I do try to take care of my teammates, they would do the same for me in return. He crashes back into me hugging me with all of his strength. “I was worried.” his voice is barely a whisper. “Everyone was. No one had heard anything from you and you just went completely dark.” I’m pretty sure he is crying now, his voice is chock full of emotions that I can’t even begin to place. “We began to think that something really bad had happened to you. That… the worst had happened.” he looks up at me, eyes full of tears and his face blotchy and red. “No one wanted to think that, but you know, you don’t exactly leavethingsaloneandyouweren’tthereandIdidn’tknowwhattothink” his words begin to run together as he speeds up. “Stop. Slow down please.” It is an old problem, and one that I have tried to get Barry to fix, but I have long since accepted that it is not going to change at this point. I just remind him to slow down now. He takes a deep breath and starts again. “Sorry it’s just that, you don’t exactly leave things alone and you weren’t  there and I didn't know what to think. It had been so long without communication.” he makes a very peculiar face, “No offense, but you don’t really look like your best right now.” He pulls away from me looking at the floor. He was right, something terrible did happen to me. I am going to fix it however. He doesn't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself. “I appreciate your concern, Flash, but please do not worry. I have a problem that I am taking steps to rectify. That is the reason I am at the watchtower to begin with.” I pause thinking, hesitating. I should apologise for worrying him but, if I do so now, it might come across weird and make him worry more. I do occasionally  have a problem with people misunderstanding my meaning. “I… apologise for causing everyone concern, I will endeavor to communicate better in the future. I was busy with Gotham matters.” Barry’s face turns sceptical, and he looks me over from head to toe. He is so going to call bullshit isn’t he? “Yeah sure Batman, Gotham matters.” We stare at each other, neither of us giving ground.

I give him a vague grunt sound and turn away walking away from him, unable to continue with the pretense that everything is ok. I just have to keep it together long enough to get what I need, besides I do have to get going before the JLD convenes for the evening. “I have other matters to attend to please excuse me.”

“Bat-” before I can hear anything else I walk out of the zeta room with the airlock shutting behind me cutting him off. Stalking down the hallways of the watchtower I ensure that my footsteps are light and soft. I have no desire to be caught by any other enthusiastic teammates. Whenever I hear voices or footsteps, I dodge into a room to let them pass before continuing on my way. I arrive at the JLD meeting room, its door colorfully decorated by Zatanna. Why? I grimace at the silver sparkly JLD letters hung on the door and the black, white, and grey checkered pattern on the door. Two red curtains frame the doorway. A bright red knob replaces the silver one that had been there previously. Where did she even get that? It looks like something that would be in a magic show, which I am sure is the point. She decorated the room too didn't she? I guess I should have expected this. I open the door to a room that is… Indescribable. Whatever you are thinking it looks like, lets just go with that, and then just add even more on top. “Batman.” Constantine nods his head in my direction, expression gruff and unimpressed. He pulls out a cigar and places it in his mouth. I roll my eyes at him knowing that he is just doing it to piss me off.  “Batman!” Zatanna greets me much more happily, smiling. She offers me a chair next to her.  “Where is the rest of the JLD?” I take a seat at the table with them. “They left.” Constantine dryly states, gesturing to the door. “Meetin’s over Bats, speaking of, I should be on my way myself. Blimey, I’m bloody knackered ya know?” He lets out the fakest yawn with his hand covering his mouth and makes to get up. “Oh?” I question, “So you don’t want to know about the supposed “master of time” that I met?” I wave my hand at him, dismissing him, and turn to Zatanna. “Would you be willing to help me, old friend?”

“Rubbish!” Constantine slams a hand on the table staring me down, willing me to tell him that what I just claimed was false. “There innit no such thing! What kind of daft bloke claims such a thing? Sounds like you've lost the plot mate.” His eyes are wide and his cigar is hanging out of his mouth, he plops back down in his chair and sets his feet onto the table, crossing his ankles. He weaves his fingers together and places them behind his head to lean into them. “Well, may as well hear the bloke out, right Zatanna? Have ta make sure that things stay spick and span hmm?” He waves a hand at me to continue, then goes for a lighter. “Don’t.” I pour authority into my voice. “Unless you want to pay for all of the expensive equipment that doing such a thing would ruin.” “John.” Zatanna scolds, snatching the cigar out of his mouth. Constantine looks mournfully at the stolen cigar knowing that Zatanna isn’t going to give it back. I look exhaustedly at Constantine, knowing that this isn’t the end of this. He turns to me with a loud sigh. “So?”

I clear my throat and begin. “A strange being that called himself Clockwork appeared at my personal place of residence today. He claimed to be the master of time. He also gave me this strange device.” I place the clock on the table in front of them. “The odder thing about it is that everything around me stopped when he appeared saying “Time out.” There was no sound, no movement, like everything was a picture. A moment captured in time. A bird that had been taking off in the background has stopped mid-flight. When he said “Time in.” everything resumed.”

Stares. They both are staring at me. Saying nothing. Their mouths popped wide open, incredulous. “Well mate,” Constantine begins “Looks like you’ve fucked it.”

“Fucked it?” I really wish he would explain things better.

“Yeah, you’ve stumbled arse over tit into a right mess you have. That,” he wags his finger at me, sitting up from the reclined position he was in, “actually was the bloody master of time.”

“Bruce,” Zatanna says softly like she is about to scare me away, leaning forward, “Did something happen to make Clockwork interested in you? He is not the type of being to meddle in things carelessly, much less to this particular extent. Very few people know of him, much less have met him.” 

“Wait, why did you tell me there “innit no such thing” if there is, and imply that I took leave of my senses?” I look at Constantine offended. 

“Because you bloody wanker, he isn’t supposed to exist in this universe!” he yells at me. “I’ve only heard rumours, about him,” Constantine looks around nervously, “but he innt the type of being we want crawling around here! He’s supposed to be in his own universe worrying about his own bloody shite! So, What. Did. YOU. DO?!” He ends his statement with a finger pointed into my chest, heaving big gulps of air. He looks frightened.

Silence descends upon us again. I don’t want to admit to my plan. I try not to look guilty, but honestly? I don’t think I succeeded. Zatanna knows me too well.

“ Bruce Thomas Wayne, you better tell me what you did right now .” Zatanna demands of me. I flinch, knowing that her wrath isn’t something to mess with. The last time I did something that made her angry, she did some… very unpleasant things that made my night time activities… difficult.

“I made an executive decision to find out more about the underworld and where souls go. It is for an investigation I am conducting in Gotham. Clockwork took notice and decided to help me with my endeavor by gifting me this device. He seems very insistent that I take this particular course of action.” 

“Is he fucking stupid?! He’s off his rocker, lost the fucking plot!” he swings his hand wildly at me looking at Zatanna.  Turning back toward me he continues,“You absolute plonker, you've made a dog's dinner out of it all! You cock-up! There is no amount of words for what you’ve done now!” He slumps into his chair looking like it's the end of the world. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a silver flask, then tilts it into his mouth gulping down the contents.

Zatanna looks like she swallowed a lemon, she sighs, stands up, and grabs Constantines flask. “What's in it?” She questions. “Vodka.” He mutters. “Good.” She takes a swig, then wipes her mouth clean and hands the now empty flask back. She then picks up the clock, and takes it over to a random shelf that appears. That shelf was not there before. She looks over each spine of the books carefully, trying to match the strange lettering on the clock to the spines of the books. “Ahh, here we go.” She brings the book back to the table and sets both the book and the clock down.

“So, the first thing that you should know,” She opens the book and starts to flip through the pages, reading intently. “Is that now that Clockwork knows that you exist, that this universe exists, there is no going back. There will be no before state where he doesn't know. He sees everything, so that’s that.”

“Wait.” We turn to look at Constantine together. “He knows about us. ” His voice is filled with horror. “Crap, I didn’t want ta be on this bloke's radar, I’ve enough problems without gettin him involved.” His voice turns into a whiney complaint. He sighs, world weary, “Alright enough whinin outta me, let’s get ta work.”  He leans forward to look at the book Zatanna pulled out.

“The second thing that you should know is that you now have very little choice but to go down this path now.” She looks up and locks onto my eyes, impressing the importance of this. “Since he is insisting on this path, chances are he will do what it takes to ensure that you remain on this path. Regardless of whatever cost may come to you. He may force you down this path if you resist enough.” Zatanna’s words send a shutter through my body. “It is more than likely for the best if you play along with minimal resistance on your part. That means..” Here she turns to Constantine.

“Oh Fuck No! You have to be taking the piss outta me! I’m not going to go to Gotham! The bloody lady hates me!”

“You're the only one who can, I know for a fact that you aren't doing anything, and I’ve got other commitments to deal with. Everyone else has left.” She crosses her arms and looks sternly at Constantine. He isn’t going to win this one, and that means I’m losing this one too. Great, more time with Constantine, yay.

“Aww, bloody well. Fine. But I’m ditching him as soon as I can.”

“The third thing is… I have no idea what this,” She picks up the clock, “is going to do. It seems to do something involving time I would guess. It matches these symbols here in this book, which has the language of the dead.” She shows me the symbols that match in the book. “However, I cannot read this, and Deadman, well, he is off doing other activities for the JLD, and I will not disturb him. You would have to go in blind, which is why John is going with you.” She shuts the book, and places the clock next to me.

“Clockwork said that it would take my hand and guide me where I need to be.”

“Well,” Zatana says, “I would do just that then.” She nods at me decisively. “Good luck boys, I have to go, I have other commitments to attend to.” She puts the book back on the shelf, which disappears, then leaves.

“Well,” Constantine claps his hands together standing up, “That was fun, I will be gathering some stuff, doing a spot of research. I’ll let you know when I'm ready ta go.” He leaves, leaving me alone. 

Leaving the JLD room behind, I step out into the corridor. I began to look for J’onn, hoping to have that conversation I wanted. God I hope everything turns out ok.

Chapter Text

Walking around the watchtower, I feel some level of peace. I know that even should this plan of mine fail, at least there are those who would continue to fight in my stead. That there are those who care about the fate of this world and would continue every effort to make sure that this world, the one that my son fought, bled, and died for would continue. That a world in which people like me are given second chances. That if I do succeed, that my son would have a world to return to. Friends, family, people who care for him. People that would ensure that he lives on without me should I die.

I find J’onn looking out into space. He is sitting in the private rec room for the core league, near the cafeteria. It is a rather large room with plenty of tables and chairs and couches that match the futuristic aesthetic that is present throughout the watchtower. An air hockey table is set up in the corner, Oliver's fault no doubt. A small kitchenette is off to the side with a stove, microwave and refrigerator. On the table closest to it, a large apple pie rests, its delicious scent wafting in the air, hopefully from Mama Kent and not Clark himself. It might be worth trying. Large windows peer out into endless space. I find myself rather glad he chose to meet me here, with it being so private. Then again, it is no secret just how private of a person I am.  Approaching him, I make sure that my footsteps are audible, not that he really needs help detecting my presence. Both of us were so used to the other, we could probably find each other with our senses cut off. “J’onn.” I nod at him, greeting him. “Bruce.” He nods back, finishing the greeting. He smiles softly at me, a warm feeling coming from him. I try to smile back, but it comes out pained and closer to a grimace. My exhaustion pulls at me, leaking into our mental connection. “What is the matter Bruce? You are not normally wound up in this manner. You don’t allow yourself to get this exhausted, much less let it into our connection. Is there a problem I can assist you with? You have no need to hold back with me, I would be glad to assist as much as I am able.” A tidal wave of grief shatters into both of our minds, the emotions that I have been holding back make their way to the forefront of our minds. The wave nearly takes me under, but J’onn holds fast, sending me comfort and reassurance. “Oh, I see, this is the reason you wished to seek me out isn’t it? I cannot fix whatever has caused you such anguish, as much as I wish I could, but I will stand by you. You may seek whatever refuge I may offer to you. You are not alone Bruce.”  His voice is soft and kind. He pulls me onto a nearby couch, and sits next to me, warm and steady. He places an arm on my shoulders in a sort of hug. “When I lost my daughter K’yhm, there were no words for the amount of grief that I felt. I was isolated and alone. It truly felt like I had lost my life with her, that there was no point to continuing on without her. Without my people. The only thing that I could offer her was funeral rites, and that was not enough, not for her or me. It admittedly brought me no peace. I can only hope that it brought her some.” A sense of solumness was shared between us. “For a very long time, I had no idea what to do with myself, all I knew was that I somehow had to continue living on with this…” A sharp pain replaces where words failed him. The understanding that nothing would be the same. “I drifted aimlessly, a lack of purpose, nothing to guide me. Until something changed.” Hope. Pure hope lifts us both, like lightening the grief that was still consuming me. “I found this.” He waves his hand at the watchtower. Family, friends, a sense of purpose. The motivation to keep going. “All of a sudden, you all crashed into my life, changing me. For the better of course. I began to want to live, to experience new things, the desire to fight, to live to see the next sunrise.” He looks out to space, the sun beginning to creep around the watchtower, lighting the edge of the windows. “It’s beautiful isn’t it? I may not have gotten my old life back, but I did find something new. Something worth getting up for. Despite the trials and tribulations that have surrounded me, and still do, I now know that I have people that care, people like you.” His smile takes on new meaning. It’s one that feels like a promise. “I cannot replace whoever it is that you lost, but I will support you, till you feel like you can get up again. Until there is new meaning in your life, and I will not be the only one. We all care for you.” Dianna, Clark, Barry, Hal, and other faces flash through our connection, memories that we have shared together, and a strong friendship choke me. A dying noise wheeses out of my mouth. “We all would be glad to assist you in whatever manner you deem necessary. Even if it is just to be a shoulder to cry on.”

“I lost my son.” The words come unbidden out. I lean my head to rest on his shoulder, letting him take my weight for a moment. “Nightwing?” His voice is horrified. “I was unaware that their mission had gone so poorly!” He quickly clamps down on the panic I know that he was feeling, trying not to make me feel worse. I shake my head, “No,”  A deep breath, “I lost Robin. I lost Jason.”  J’onn swallows, turning to look at me more fully, dislodging me off his shoulder. He understands now, fully, why I chose to seek him out. He places his hand on my cheek, and rests his forehead against mine. He shares my grief, my loss and breathes. His calm acts as a soothing balm to my overworked emotions. “I am so sorry.” He sits with me, allowing me to fully express the depths of my pain. No judgment, no offers to fix my pain, or remove it. Just two people who have lost more than words could ever express. The understanding of someone who had to bury their child. 

“I have a…plan.” I sit back, removing myself from his embrace. I showed him my thought process, Clockwork, and the conversation I had with Constintine and Zatanna. “I will admit to my own foolishness in this matter, but… I have to. I have to try.” I honestly expected him to tell me off, to let me know how much of a stupid idea this is but he doesn't. He just offers me his understanding, and a promise. “I understand your pain, I too would do anything in my power to bring my daughter back if I had the chance. You have a once in a lifetime opportunity in front of you, I think that it would be more foolish not to take it." He radiates sincerity. “I wish I could give you the same opportunity.”  I can't hide the longing in my own voice. If anyone deserves such an opportunity it would be J’onn. He has been through such struggle, so much strife. I genuinely wish he could have his own opportunity to get his family back. “It is alright Bruce, I do not need you to do that for me. I have made my peace with the loss of my people. I will admit to some jealousy over the matter, but even still I am glad that you of all people are blessed to have the opportunity to have someone so precious to you returned. Even if there might be an unknown price attached to it.” I feel discontent from the bond, he is clearly hesitant about this unknown. I agree with him. We share a mutual unease over this. “I really want to know how this particular action benefits Clockwork, I am rather concerned about this. It does not bode well that someone like him wants something out of me. Even worse, I don’t know what it is that he wants.” J’onn humms out loud. “There is no other path than forward, as Zatanna mentioned. Would you like my help in this matter? I would not mind backing you up if you want it.” Thinking about it, I would not mind his assistance, but I find myself unsure of how he could help. I also would like to keep this particular party smaller, the less people involved in this…endeavor the better. I hesitate going back and forth. “I think that, for now, I am ok with the current state of things. I will call upon you if I need further assistance from you, If you don’t mind, J’onn.” J’onn’s face turns serious, and he sits straighter on the couch. “Of course I do not mind. You are a dear friend to me.”

“Are you two doing the thing again?” Hal sighs from where he has walked into the room. “Come on guys, quit leaving everyone out of the conversation! You both know how irritating that is.” Hal walks over to the couch where we are and plops down next to J’onn. “Well maybe, you were left out because it was not meant for your ears.” I state as calmly as I can manage. Irritation quickly rises up in me, but I try to instead focus more on my inner sense of peace. “I apologise Hal, but this conversation was private between the two of us.” J’onn looks at Hal politely, and moves over towards me to make room. “Come on man! It's always like this with you two! Don’t you two know that there are other people in the league? I always catch you two talking privately like this!” He throws his hands up in the air, a pinched look on his face.

“Hal-” I begin to tell Hal off when, “Are you complaining about J’onn and Bruce again?” Clark walks into the room. “You know perfectly well why they do it, Hal. You just don’t like being left out.” He walks over to the pie still sitting on the table. “Gossips the lot of you.” He mutters under his breath. I snort, he is the biggest gossip in the league and everyone knows it. He doesn't try to be, but when you have super hearing, it is really easy to be nosey, especially when all he wants to do supposedly, is help everyone with their problems. Or so Clark claims. I personally think that is a part of it, but I also am 100% sure that it is that reporter's curiosity in him. Clark cuts himself a piece of the pie and puts it on a plate. “Wait,” I call, “Who made the pie?” Clark turns and looks at me like I am the weird one. “Ma? The same person as always?” Immediately everyone begs for a slice, including me, I am not ashamed to admit. There is something entirely too comforting about a homemade pie. I would never admit it to Alfred, but Mama Kent’s apple pie is better than his. Clark looks at us fondly, and delivers the required pie.  He sits at a nearby arm chair, and for a moment, everyone is silent while we all enjoy the taste of a crisp apple pie.

“Sooo…” Clark starts, “Just to make sure, whatever you two were talking about, is it by perchance, something that I might be able to help with?” and before I can glare him into submission, he continues, “Not that is really any of my business, but,” Clark holds his hands up in the air, trying to avoid my wrath, “I would like to help if I can. You are my friend, and I want you to know I care.” He looks at me imploringly, not that is going to save him. I glare and open my mouth, ready to call him out on his hypocrisy. J’onn, however, doesn't let me get that far. “Clark.” J’onn looks at Clark and we all fall silent. “You just heard me say that it is private. Just because you can overhear conversations, amongst other things, it does not give you the right to push for information that is not yours. In fact, it should make you even more conscientious when such matters occur. Before you claim that you were just trying to be a good friend, does this behavior sound like something that a good friend would engage in?” Clark looks at both of us sheepish. Thank god for J’onn. “I understand you want to help,” I try to use my nicest voice, “but I came to J’onn for help. Not you. Not Hal. If I wanted to talk with either of you about this, I would have come to you. Thank you both for your concern and care, but I do not want either of your help with this matter. If that changes, then I will seek you out.” Silence descends on us, Hal and Clark digesting both of our words.

“Spooky, I don’t want to sound…” Hal cuts himself off, words failing him. “I- just-, would you come to me if you did need help?” he shifts so he can catch my eyes around J’onn. “ I know that a lot of our relationship is deliberately antagonize each other and pushing each other's buttons, but I don't want that to be the reason that you do not come to me if there is a problem that I can help with. I want us to still have a good relationship both on and off the field. I want you to trust me the way I trust you. Wholeheartedly and with our lives. I know that there are a lot of things that you don’t tell anyone, or honestly, very select people,” He looks at J’onn meaningfully “But we have known each other for years now. Fought with each other for years, and frankly,” he turns away from both of us out to space. “Done even more stupid shit together than I can name. Despite what it seems like, I do consider you a friend.” I am blown away at the honesty that Hal is showing. Where did this come from? But even still, I want to reassure him, I reach across J’onn to place my hand on his shoulder. “I know.” I let those two simple words tell him what he needs to know. “Come on Spooky,” He complains, placing his hand on mine, “I gave you a whole entire speech about how much I care about you, and you give me two measly words?” He might be complaining but he is smiling. I smirk back at him and reply “Hmm.” He stands and looks at me amusement in his eye, even if he is now pretending to be mad, “Fuck you too Spooks! This is what I get for being honest!” He storms off muttering jokingly about overbearing, annoying bats.  Clark busts out into laughter, his joy radiating out from him. I can’t help but feel somber though, knowing how my own plan may end. Knowing that, at least for a while, this will be the last time I hear it. J’onn’s own chuckles slowly fade, sensing my own mood. I am glad though, that Hal did bring up the mood between all of us, I know that is partially why he does it, makes himself the butt of the joke. He thinks no one notices, but I do. Not all of our bickering and arguing is real. When the last of Clark’s laughter ends, I stand up myself. I have a magician to find.

Chapter Text

Finding Constantine is really easy actually, he was waiting by the zeta. We give silent nods. It’s an acknowledgement that things are about to go down. We are both as prepared as it is going to get when dealing with the unknown.

Turning on the zeta, I set the coordinates to a safehouse, instead of the cave. Very few people have seen the inside of the cave, and I would prefer to keep it that way. We enter the zeta with no issues and it closes behind us.

“Well Bats, what now?” Constantine turned towards me with his eyebrow raised. “Now, we follow the trail.” I pull out the clock, and the pulling sensation returns. This time it is more insistent that I follow. Its pull is hard enough to start to hurt. I follow the pull out of the safe house, to a part of New Gotham. It is a richer part of the city, and most of the architecture reflects that. Towering skyscrapers, security cameras present in every square inch of New Gotham. New Gotham was built after a large part of Gotham was flooded back during my first year of being Batman. It isn’t as shiny and new now that a few years have passed by. “Wow, fancy digs you’ve got here, Bats.” Constantine eyes the city around him, a certain gleam in his eye. “You are not spending any more time here than you have to. No, I will not be letting you use this safe house.” He rolls his eyes, not even trying to hide it from me. “Yeah, Yeah.” nodding his head. “Stingy bastard.” he mutters. I don’t dignify that with a response, instead taking off, leaving him in the dust.

“Hey! Wait up!” Constantine quickly catches up, falling into place beside me. “So, do ya have any other plan than to follow this clock? Any backup plans? Contingencies?” The pull leads me in the direction of Old Gotham. “Hm.” “Oh? So that’s a no then? Wow, I should record this moment on camera! Batman doesn't have a plan! Someone stop Clark!” I stop and turn to stare at him, that was a particularly egregious joke. “What? Can’t a man try ta lighten the mood round here?” The pull gets stronger, nearly knocking me off my feet. I suppose that it is getting tired of waiting. I follow it walking down the street. Turning right I find a large alleyway with grime and smelly dumpsters that leads into Old Gotham. Walking down it, flickering lights and groaning metal accompany our footsteps. “Sure is spooky down here isn't it Bats? Is this what it’s always like for you? Innit it a bit on the nose here?” Constantine leans forward to stick himself in my face. “Hmm.” “Awww, come on now mate! The jokes practically write themselves here!” He grins obnoxiously, still clearly trying to get on my nerves. I looked at him unimpressed. “Alright, alright.” He places his hands into the air, surrendering. “Let's get this over with.” Exiting the alley, large granite gargoyles greet us as we walk onto the dimly lit streets. Constantine shudders, “Well that sure is a warm welcome from the Lady,” he eyes the gargoyles like they will jump out at us at any second “knew she'd be right thrilled with my existence…” The last of his sentence drops into a mutter that is clearly nothing but complaints and curses.

We walk through the endless maze of Old Gotham, alley ways, streets, roofs all twisting together in a way that feels unnatural, controlled to lead us to a specific spot, not how the city was originally laid out. Places and buildings that were in other areas of Old Gotham insert themselves along our route, a bridge that originally went over a river now connects two rooftops. “I don't mean to make us seem like I'm doubtin ya, but are you sure your Lady wants us here? She seems to be deliberately mixin things up to mess with us.” Constantine turns to eye a light pole that is upside down, stuck down into an open manhole cover. “My Lady?” What… what is Constantine talking about? I don't have a “Lady” or a girlfriend or wife? It's not the first time he has mentioned this either, but not once has he ever made an explanation about it. I had always assumed he was making fun of me for being so protective over Gotham. Jason… he liked to joke that I was married to Gotham, and that Gotham was a needy wife. I assumed that he was making the same joke. “Yeah?” Constantine looks worried now, eyes peering down the open manhole, and grimaces. “You know, your old ball and chain, your Lady Gotham? The one that you spend all of your time, energy, and money into saving every night?” He turns toward me away from the manhole, “Do you think we will have to go down there?” He points down to the sewer, nose wrinkling and his mouth grimaces even harder if possible. “I just got my coat all spick and spam, hate to mess it all up ya know?” He wipes imaginary dust off his coat, never mind all of the rips and tears, patchwork scraps of fabric and sloppy seam work that holds the coat together. He leaves grimy hand prints and streaks where he wipes his hands on the coat. I sigh, wondering why I even put up with the man in the first place. “I don't understand Constantine. I don't have a “Lady Gotham”. Gotham is just a city, I'm not actually married to Gotham thank you. I know that there have been jokes in the past, but that is all they were. There is no basis in reality.”

Loud groans, creaking metal, and screams start up in an overwhelming cacophony. “Ooh, don't think she likes that much mate.” He rocks back and forth on his heels pleased that he knew something I didn't. A stone gargoyles drops down next to Constantine, landing with a loud crash covering the manhole he was standing next to. He jumps away, eyes wide. “Ok! Ok, I’m sorry! I promise I'll quit making fun! Just don't squish me will ya!” He eyes the remaining Gargoyles on the rooftops, his hand placed together like a prayer. He sighs in relief when nothing else happens. “At least we don't have to go into the sewer.” I take a deep breath, and say “I’m sorry, My Lady.” The street goes quiet and the lights all flicker on in a warm steady light. A pleased sort of aura seems to radiate from the street. A new alleyway appears to my left covered in shadows, and the street settles back to normal. “Well would you look at that? The big bad bat does know how to apologize.” He walks up to me and gestures to the alleyway with an open hand, bowing slightly. “Well? After you my prince.” Mischief lighting up in his eyes. We descend into the shadowed alley.

The darkness wraps around me in a comforting manner, familiar and safe. I plunge myself into the shadows taking solace in the familiar motion, hoping that this will not be the last time I do it. “Bloody hell Bats, you really do look creepy doin that, I can see why criminals are right terrified of ya.” The shadows seem to pull away from the magician, refusing his presence. He pulls out another god forsaken cigar and lights it up, pushing the shadows further away from him.

The two of us make a striking image I'm sure, a man with a lit red cigar radiant with light, and me a black void with dark plumes of shadows swirling around him, consuming the little light the bright man puts out. The dark and dingy alley is consumed by the black and little bits of rusted metal reflect the red light of the cigar. A puddle in the middle of us gently ripples and reflects a cloudy grey sky, the highlights of the ripples stained a harsh red from the light of the cigar.

“That's the point.” I harshly respond, breaking the moment.

Turning to the end of the alley I rush off, hoping to escape the tide of emotions that threaten me. Constantine leisurely follows after me, unbothered by the little moment we just had. Rushing to the end of the alley I can't help but start to get overwhelmed, Gotham is a real person (being?), there is a “Master of Time” who personally wants something out of me, and my son is dead. “Woah! Wait for me.” I stop dead at the end of the alley, back out onto the open street. What lays in front of me sends chills down my spine. Constantine crashes hard into my back, but I ignore him. The theater that is in front of me is more important. It's the theater. Monarch theater where I last saw my parents alive. And the ally next to it. Next to it is. I'm taken back to pearls scattering everywhere, loud gunshots, heavy footsteps and the sound of sirens. Blood splattered on to my face and the heavy metallic scent of blood that I swear fills my mouth. A sharp sting on my cheek pulls me out of my head. Constantine slapped me, he holds my face in his hands, eyes locked on mine in concern. “I've been callin your name for a while..” he pulls away from me the stench of his cigar lessening now that he is not directly in my face. “This place… it's important to you innit?” He turns to the theater, a contemplative look on his face, brows almost pinched together, worrying at his cigar that is placed between his lips. “I'm gonna ask one more time. I think it is important.” He faces me, with one of the most serious looks on his face that I have ever seen. There is no joking, or relaxed look on his face. “Are you sure about this? A lot of people who go to these sort of lengths don't come back the same. If they come back at all… not to mention there will be a price to pay, are you sure that you will want to pay it? Or even can?” He sighs, blowing a puff of smoke, “ I have paid a lot of prices…some less willingly than others. I know what it's like to be so stuck on a path it feels like there is no other way forward. I will not make your decisions for you but, if you want, I can…” he shuffles under the weight of my stare “I can… aw fuck it, Bats, I want to help. I can check in with a few contacts and see if I can get something set up. You don't have to do it like this.” The tone of his voice turns almost desperate.

Silence descends upon us. I can't ignore the magician's words. Not easily at least, this is why I keep him around. But, “I don't think I have a choice.” The admission is whisper quiet. Fragile, hoping not to break some unspoken boundary. The lights of the theater glow brightly on our faces. The sign adorning the entrance crooked and swayed in the breeze. A lone receipt blows past us, and off into the street. The pull of the device is the strongest it has ever been. “As much as I want to walk away, to heed your words. I can't. It's like Zantanna said. The best path forward is the one of least resistance. I want this, I want what the clockwork devil will give me and he knows it.”

“What is it you want?”

“I can't tell you.”

“I…Ok, Bats. Let's do this then.” He stands beside me, ready. “Let's go.” I respond in kind, feet already leading me to where I know I need to go. The devices pull, finally ending as I step into the alley where my parents were murdered. Where Batman truly began.

The moment my foot lands on the alleyway floor the device lights up and an ominous green portal appears. It pulls me in faster than I can react and the last thing I hear is “Batman!”

Chapter Text

The portal leads to the same alleyway, but there in front of me is the scene that haunts my sleep and consumes my waking thoughts. I’m paralyzed as the gun points towards my parents, the finger wrapped around the trigger pulls it, and I blink as the shot lands on my father who has pushed himself in front of his wife and little Bruce. I realize I am screaming with him, with the little Bruce in front of me who as his father’s blood splattered across his face, another bang comes from that dreaded weapon. My mom falls to the ground red beginning to stain her white dress. Our screams ring out louder as little Bruce kneels down to shake his mother, tears stream down his face. My own ragged breath gets louder as I struggle with the ongoing scene. My own emotions begin to take over my head and I can feel myself being pushed to a breaking point. “Move kid.” The sound of the gunman breaks into my thoughts, I can only watch as the gunman shoves little Bruce away from mom. He rips the pearls off her neck, and the pearls scatter around the alley, little balls of white glinting in the moonlight. A desperate noise rips from my throat and I try to move, but can't. Some sort of invisible presence is holding me in place. I struggle desperately, trying to do anything. I scream louder and push and pull as hard as I can. I have to break free, I can’t stand to watch as another little boy (Just like me, just like Dick, just like Jason) watches his parents die in front of him. I freeze when a third gunshot rings out in the night. I never hear a third gunshot in my memories. I look at the grizzly scene that is playing out. A bullet ripping right through little Bruce’s head when he attacked the gunman. He had swung his little fist right at the gunman, a sad parody of my fighting now. It is a swing full of desperation and hope. A struggle to fight against the cruel reality set before him. His body slumps down to the pavement, and a pool of red blood lays beneath him. The gaping wound in his head was leaking, dripping. The gunman’s steps are heavy as he walks away, the sound echoing in my head. Shaking, I can finally move again. The invisible presence holding me hostage lets go. One step after another I slowly move toward me. My cold dead body on the ground. I kneel down at my side, my blood drenching my knees. I check my pulse. There isn’t one. My own tears begin to slip down my face mirroring the ones from when I was shaking my mothers body earlier. I can’t help but try to shake myself awake, hoping that I will somehow get up, despite the bullet that ripped through me.

"M̷̳̗̘̈́y̸͇̝͇͕̺̪̙͊͑͘͝ ̸̨̱̞͚̖̭̫̎̓p̸̩̣̠̼̔̽͌͜͝ȑ̷̛͎̙̮͇͌̍͆į̷̡͈̺̍̿̉̈́͐̍͆n̴̥̦̝̔̕c̶̛̛̣̼͙̈́̐̊̕e̶̙̩͎͇̜͂̍.̷̩̗̞͖̊̄͌̌̃͝ ̸̨̪̬̓̓͘M̸̡̰͔̮̫̽́̒̍ỹ̶̬̪̗̖͎̅̏͘͠ ̵̣̙͇̰͉͋̓̉͑̀͘̚K̶͕̖̬̘̠̘̉̓ͅn̴̡͈͉̰̍ȉ̴͓̻̓g̴̻̈́̎͆͝ḣ̷͈̫͇̙̻̯̔͋͝t̴̡̖̬̤̮̽̅͒̂.̴̰̩̄̈́̐̅ ̷̬̲͈͊̓̈́̽͛͝F̵̫͉͔̼͎͚̘̾̌̄͐i̸̜̺̱̅̀͆̂͊͘͜͝n̶̳͙̦̥̆͠a̵̡̛̲̜̩̹̺̓͘͝͠l̷̩̞̿͊l̶̞͎͚͍͕̣̱̈́ÿ̴̢̦̻͙̹̬̇̌́̄,̵̦̑̈̽̌̃͑̔ ̵͎̣̙͝ỹ̷̧̳̯̼͙͂ó̵̡̤̫̹͜u̶̙̱̣̰͙̾̆̅̐́̕ ̷͖̙̰̞̞̭̗̈́̑̐̔̂͛͝h̷̫̰̖̗̖̀͂̐̿͊̉ͅa̴̪̘̭̠̥̤̗̾̓v̵̨̛̜̫̔̏͂̚͘e̷̜̜̩͛̚͜ ̸͈͙̖̠̹̹̊̽̅͂͌̉c̶̖̆͋̉͆͘ǭ̴̞̠̼͊͋̇̂̉͘͜ͅm̷̘̲͋̈͌͒̇̈͑ȅ̵͕̪̗͑̆ ̶̢͔͓̊̑̐͋̂̕ţ̷̣̩̥̪̩̟̓̌̈̃̃͛́o̶̫͔͂͜ ̵̨̘̘̦̂͂̀͝m̵̧͕͕͖̪̝̝̿̓͐̈͋ȇ̶̪́́͘.̸͇̟͙͔̤̗͊͆̿̐.̸͇̳̟̦̉̅̓̈͗"

I give up on shaking the warm body lying on the pavement, and I turn to face a woman who is as pale as a white sheet. Her face looks drained of blood, and cracks run across her skin like a porcelain doll. The cracks drip a viscous black tar that drips onto the pavement. Her eyes concealed by a short black veil, the same black fluid runs down from under the veil where her eyes would be. It makes her look like she is crying. The veil also runs down the backside of her head and frames her face, it flows onto the concrete turning into shadows. Her lips look ruby red, like fresh blood has been painted on. Her hair falls straight down her back, black and inky, flowing in a way that resembles a river of water, like it's flowing down a drain. The rats squeak and run out of the torn bottom of her dress, bare pale feet covered in grime and bone thin walk up to my body. She kneels next to me and places his little head carefully in her lap. The lace on her dress crinkles under the weight of his head, the lady strokes his hair. The lace veil upon her head shields her face as she looks down at me, him. The corset around her waist does nothing to hide how bone thin she is, with starvation clearly having taken its toll. Her breath is labored and wheezy like she has been breathing in gas and smog for a long time. She makes for a terrifying figure.

I hazard a guess and question, “Lady Gotham?” Confusion lines my voice. I don’t remember dying, and I don't remember her either. This moment never happened in my memories, the extra gunshot, the pain and blood dripping down me, hitting the cold floor. The truth settles into me. I died that night didn’t I? But then… How am I here then? Alive? Was I dead this whole time? Was I merely imagining living? No, I don’t think so. Things begin to click into place, wounds I should have never healed from, broken bones that should have taken longer to heal, times where things that should have hurt me didn’t. Moments where the shadows almost seem to conform to me, hide me, protect me. When things and evidence that I need conveniently appear before me, or are somehow not disposed of. How in moments where I leap from the rooftops, I almost can fly. It’s her. Lady Gotham, she is doing this to me. Or maybe it's closer to say that she did this to me.

Lady Gotham takes my cold body and kisses my forehead over where the bullet has taken my life, the black substance leaking out of her cracks and eyes sits on my now cold skin. I watch as the fluid disappears into my cold body seamlessly, almost like it was never there. Her lips leave a bloody lip print on my forehead and the bullet hole closes, leaving only lipstick in its wake. Little Bruce’s body shudders then with a quick snap, starts to breathe again. The sigh of relief that exits my body is so full of emotion it is heavy. I want to reach out to check his pulse again but am unsure how Lady Gotham would take it. I refrain from my impulse and instead leave my hands in my lap where I put them after she picked Little Bruce up.

“Y̸͇̿̍͌̋̈͋̑̈́o̸̘̦͇̭͉̞̮̤̟̬͔͚̤̣̙̿̎u̷̬͍̲̰͋̒̽̑̀͆̿͑͜ ̴̘̹͈̙̽͑̒̃̀̂͋̎̾͗͐̍̾͆͘͜͜͝a̴̡̩̹̥̲̞̫̥̰̙͇̳̒̒͐̅͆̅͊͌̄̀̂̈̀̑͘͠ṟ̴̼͎͊̑̀̃͒̃́̑̍̔́̕͠ͅe̵̢̪̠̦͓̼̻͕̟̺̿͐͑̓͐̿ ̷̢̢̼̖̬̰̹̙̠̤̼̲̌̈́̃́͠m̵̧͈̰̮͚̲̦͇̙͑̅͒̈̔̈́̐̓̂͘̕͝͝ͅỉ̸͈̻̠͕͎͎͔̟̘͍̰̿͛͂̔͛͐̊͌͑͘͜n̵͍̯̳̗͊͋̈́͛̓̀́͑ě̸̢̛̗̟̻̘͔͖̘͐̈̿̒̉͋̄̂͌ͅ.̴̨̡̢̙̥̯͎̠͓̰͖͓̏͐̋̆̅͘͘͜͝ͅͅ ̷̧̧̛͙̝̎̓̇̾͋̅̋̇̓͋̚̕M̶̧̢͚͙͚͍̬̗̜̹̠̘̲̭͕̞͒͑͐͐̓́̈́̌̉̂̚͘͠͠͠͠y̷̛͍͓̽̒̉̊̓̅̌̌͝ ̸̨̡̨̲͕͍̘͚̳̜͍̞͇̰̠̋̆́̀͝ͅp̸̨̢̡̛̝̠͇̳̗̟͔̥̩̦̭̪͇̞̏͌̒̒̒͋r̴͙̄͊͝ḯ̷̟̹͇̦͕̦̬̞̭̊̂̍͊͑̔ń̵̮̒̅͋̎̋̍̈̏͌c̷̡͖͉̹̲̼̘̠̥̤̲̻̟̜̍̆̋̓͋͛̔͆̓͂̌͆͋̕ͅe̸̺̩̣̊̅̔̈́̈́͐̀̎͋̚͝͠͝.̶̣̹͕͍̦͇͙̙͒̉̊́̎̾͑͘͝͝ ̵̡̫̤̰̝͈̭̃̀̀̊̀̐͠M̵̧̻̥̲̮̰̝̱͎͕͍̬͕̗̏͗́̾̽̔͝ͅỵ̶͕̺̠͚͍̥̐̓͗͗̿̄̓̏͘͜͝ ̸̨̼͉͍͔̭̝̟͖̲̘̟̼̏̓̈́̀̈͊̂ͅķ̴̡̮̹̜͉͍̲̼͍̦͚͓͚͙̒̔̍̐͐̐̿͋̚̕ͅͅn̸̢̜͉͈̗̝̪̖̦͉͊̑̌̾̑i̴̧̧͚̯͓͙̲̤͎̦̇̚̚ͅg̵̖̰͉̗̹͓͎̙̃̓̃́͋̀́̔̾̚͠h̴̭̙͖̀t̴̢̡͚̭͚̖̖̘̤̘̺͇̞͉̑̕͝.̶̧̢̛̹̘̹̠̹̘̮̲͙̞̗̥̾͂̀̃͒͐͊̎͊͆͋͘ ̸͇̟̋͌̍̒͘̚͝Y̷̢͚͇̙͔̗̲̳̦̮̯̫͉̤̓̓̅̌͌̏̓̀͘ó̶̧̟̲͕̺̳̤̦̦͎̞̯̲̫̑̌̄͂̀̾̐͘ǔ̶̢̠̰̯̫̯͈͈̖̝͎̀̏̓̓̊̀͊̀ ̶̢̢̗̬͖̲̌̏̉̎̎̈́̆̐̂͑ͅḩ̶̡̛͔̲͓̫̬̹̫̬̟ą̶̘̫͕̏̋̎̎͗̌̉̈̑̂̓̎̓͘̚ͅv̵̨̘̇̍̏̓̓̿̉̔̈́̔̏͠ȅ̸̱̰́̽̆͘ ̴͚̘̍̔͐̂̇̿̏d̸̛̹͈̉͂͑͛͐̈́̆̂̇̽̅͌i̵̡͍̰̩̩̲̩͂͆̏͑̑̾̽̕e̷̢̨̗͓̮̗͙̱͑͐͂̒ͅd̴̨̛̺̪͉̱͉̰̰͍̲͍̦̙̗̻̈́̽̄͊͐̀ ̷̻͙̹̙̻̼̇ͅb̵̢͕̬͈̳̟̠̤̮̗̏̈́̑̄̈́̓̈̎̑͌̑̈́̏͠͝ë̵̢̢͇͇̜͎̙͚́̾͜ͅl̵̢̮͔̯̤̗͎͓̦̾̈͂̾̆̈́̔̈̈̄͋̍͑͘͘͝o̶̢̻̬̙̱̻̅͌̽̍̈̎̈́̄͐̚͘͜͠͠ͅn̷͎̝̲͍͙͙̘̣̪͕͎̗̭̟̹̘̺̈́̇̌́̾̒̏̆͌͐͌̄̽̚g̸̢̱̭͈̠̾̈́́̇͛͛͋͑̀̓ḯ̸̠̜̥̞͓̘͕͗͐̀n̷͙̜͖̐͌̀͌͒g̷͕̲͚̳̠̩̘̪͔͈̭̈͗̈̈́̃̑̑͂ ̷̛͕̻̬̙̣̺͚̬̟̭̰̔̈͗̈́̈́͒͐̓̉̋̑̈́̐̕͝t̷͚̻̙̙̟͈̝̪̜̫̤̎̑̇͗͆͂̊́̒͑̕͠o̶̭̟̣̳͕̒̓̿̀̚ ̶̡̣̣͔̗̱̓̍̔̉̊̀̔͗̑͛̊̀̑͑͝ͅm̴̨̖͇̱̙̺̘͙͂̇͝e̶̮͍͔͖̮̪̹̠̜̊̈́ ̵̢̡͖̣͚͚̩̗̥̘̜͙̪̲͇̐̄̏͌͐͋̓͒͆ą̵̘͎̣͈͉̞̩̫̓͊͐̏̆̓̐̕n̶̨͙͍̙̳̰̙̬͕̫̖̮̞̘̩̏͗̿̌̈͊̕͜͝d̵̨̺̦̮͔͇̼̰̫̺̑͜͜ ̸̣̹̜̭́͆͘̚n̴̛͓̜̗̞̟̞͈̎̔̌̂̍̆̀̆̏̓̚͘͝͠ő̷̼̌̇͘ẅ̶̛͙̯̯̰̤͕̰̫͈́̀̏͗̎̌́̀̑̔̎̽́̉ ̷̪͙͓̩͇̅y̶̨͕͙̹̠͇̼͔̬͙͎̱̮͖̜̮͊͆̉ͅȍ̴̜̜̮̖̆́̋̍̈́͗̿͊̇̒̍̎͂͆̚̕ȗ̷͕͖̱̎̀̑̓̕͜ ̷̢͓̫͎̼͔̩̬̟̂̇͋̌́͑͝s̶̬̘͙̑͆͌͊̈̉̽̇͌͒̈͝h̷̨̢̻̥̼̳̓͛̏̿̋̓̒̀̑̆͊̐ͅa̷̧̢̤͎̞̦̭̮̰̼̹͐̋͑͐͊̄̓̆͑̈̆̌̚̚̚͝l̴̢̙͍̦͇̥͚͙̥͚̦̲̘̳̉̀̽̐̈́̈́̃̾́̀̇͝͝͝ͅļ̴̛̟̜̠͈͎̮̥̟̹̲̤͖̿̀̋̏͂̌̇̈̅͋͜͝ ̶̡͙̥͙̞͖̪̗̤̺̤̖͓̹͇͈̓́̽̆̚r̸͍̺̔̀̄ę̷͔̬͇̝̍͗͑͊͊͂̽͆̏̍̈́́̄̕͘̚͝t̵̨̫̯͓͚͑̾ư̷͔̌̂̀͂ͅr̸̛̛̫͍̹̻̝̪̦̓̂̉̈́͂͆̌̀̋̄͛͜͜͝ͅņ̸̢̛͇̗̩̱͎̦̳̭͖͈͔̗̱͐̊̂͑͜͜ ̷̞͔̭̽t̴͕̯̬̟͉̩̯͔͉̤̱̉̑̂̉̅̉͒̓̕͠͝ô̷̧̨̧͖̘̫͙̭̰͕̦̮͈͇̈́́̇̔̚ ̷̠̥̪͕̜͇̬̖͈̖͔͈̅̀͑̇̒̓̓̾̐͛m̷̰̥̲̗̲̮͎͔̪͈̻̼͚̗̎̌̽͝ͅe̴̡̧͍̩̖̪̳̯̼̘͇̙̻̺͊͂͜͜ ̸̝̤͚̥̝̻̖̝͎̘͍̯͖̝͂̀̅͆ä̸̻͚́̀́ļ̶̗̩͎͓͙̯͇͓͉̠̫͛͒̒͛̇̀̄́̊̃͑̀̾̆̒͐͝i̵̙͐͗̌̈v̵̪̳͔̭͇̩̱̀̿͋̅̎́ẽ̵̡̡̨̥̼̬͔̪͈̰̗̓ ̶̯̫̙̦̙͚͍̠͑̍̈́͋͜ͅa̸̟̬̦̯̥̞̼͔̹̹̓͒̊͐͒͜͝͠ŝ̴̨̪́̓̽̿̂͌̀́̑̽̾̚͝͝͝ ̷̧̩̝̭̺͔͇̫͚̝̩̻̟̤̤̱̀͆̀̃́͒͑̓͋̓͋͊͝ẁ̸͎̣̗̱̲̹̪̄̋̑͑̎͐̽͠e̸̜̙͍̼̹̣͚͈͒̋͠͠l̵͙̘̼̳̪̎͆́̀̅͒̃͆́͊̿͝l̶̼͔̣̯̫͇͙̔͒̍̀̑͆̈́͐̔̕.”

She speaks to the small body still laying in her lap, her voice a combination of screams, groans, and the sound of shattering glass. Hearing her voice, I feel the urge to bow before her, to take her skeletal hand in mine and kiss it. To please and serve her in whatever manner she desires. A shudder runs through my body as I understand her words. My Lady means this literally, I belong to her. I am her sword and shield, a filter through which she is using to cleanse herself. She reaches out her hand and places it on my face, her thumb stroking my cheek. I can’t help but lean into it, my own soul purring at her touch, her presence. She turns to me, looking, searching.

“D̴̫̠͚̘̻̪͍̟̎̄̒̔̀̆̎͗̍͆̎̄͗̚͝͝o̸̢͕͓̦̖̱̜̰̪̯̫̜̊͊͛͊͘͜ ̸̢̛̼̻̜̣͚̣̖̘͖́͐̅͠ͅy̶̠̘̠̺̅͌͒̍̄̿̏̍̎̏͌͌̚͝͠͝ǫ̷̩͎̯̑̄̋̊̃ȕ̴̢͎̝̙͈̗̺̤̠̝͚͚̬̻̊̀̑͊̇̂̓̓͝͠ͅ ̵̦͈̝̦̣̞̃̈́̀́̎͑̿̑̽̚͠ͅs̶̢̢̡̹̦̥͕̗͕̞͓͗̊͒̔͊́͐̔̇̽͆̿͒̚͜͝͠e̶͎̞̗̥̦̫̟͇͌̉͐́̄̈͆̚ȩ̸̱̯̬̺̦͈̻̻̣̽̀̌̑̂̈́̇͆͐̈͑͗̉͐͂̇͘ ̸̧̧̨̘̩̬̣̻̻̎̽͘͠ņ̸̙͍͔̬͇̈́̒͒̆̅̐̽̈͛͛̅̚͝ờ̵͉̘̏̄̂̇͊́̏ẁ̴̺̥̳̎̊͋̔̿̾́͂͗̓͝ ̴̛͚̝͙̭̖̥̏̓̆̍͑̓̇̒̈́͗̀̿̆͋m̷̫̏̆̃̓̉̑͂̌̂̅̉̂͛̐̌͘͠ÿ̵͕̥̞̤͖̙͉̬̞͇͓̘̳̤́̔̒͜͜ ̸̡̦̹̹̘̥̰̞̪̲̩͖̖̳̪̦͛̃̋̂́k̸̨̨̨̝̗͎͎͇͉̼͎͍̀́͜͝ņ̵̱̮͖̜̀͊̃͆̌̈́̂͜į̴̤̘͔̻͇͕͕̮̜̓͝g̸̛͕̿̋̈̿̆̈̈́͆̒̚͠h̵̥̑̅̈́̎̆͗̀͂̈͐̇̉̚͠͠t̸͉̀͗̂” Her voice echoes in the alleyway. I nod respectfully. “G̶̢̡̦̟̤̭͈̲̩̟͓̻̬̀̓͊̇̉͆̎̀̄͘̕͜͝ͅo̵̬̝͎͎͉̮̱̬̜̥̦̯͔̟̎͂ͅő̵̺͍͈̻d̷̰̞̗̰̳̩̞̯̮̭͙͍̦͎̉̎̅̋͛͌̎̿̍́̈́̚͝͝.”

I hesitate before asking, “How may I help you, my lady?” I bow my head in respect, avoiding her gaze. “M̷̧̛͐̐y̸̨̱͆͋ ̶̣̬̏̅͠p̴̡̘͆̒̊ṛ̶̍̀̓o̴̺͛ư̴̦̟̯͋d̴̞́ ̴̫̜͋͊͑ș̷͎̽t̶̨̯͖͌̊r̴̮̊ò̶̯̍n̶̮̲͌͠ǵ̵̭͕̓̕ ̶̺̀́̀k̸͍̠̏́̌n̸͕̜͊ï̷̜g̸̛̜̍͝h̷͕̀̊͠t̴̺̰̑̔́,̶͉̟̻̓̾ ̴̦̏̍̇į̶̠̓t̵͍̱̰͂̕͘ ̸̮̮͙̿̈́į̷̲͔̊̋͝ṡ̵̹̞͜ ̵̛̭̒̚n̵̢̥͙͊͝o̶̡͝ṭ̵̼̾̌ ̸̛̙w̶͉̹̓͝ḩ̷̹̩̑̽͠à̸͖̳̓͒ẗ̸̻̥́͛̇ ̶̟̈̓ͅy̶̬̞̤͑ŏ̶̻͙̞͂̿u̵͙̝̅ ̴̠̈́ͅc̷̭̹̠͌̚ạ̷̲͉͗n̴̨̹̆ ̶̛͕̽̓ͅd̴̪̒ơ̷̼̺̽͊ ̶̳͓̆̅f̵̗́͊̒ȯ̷̧̜̕r̷̜̕ ̸̨̜͇͒̐͗m̶̦͙͌̆͊͜ë̷͂́ͅ,̶̠̝̹̒ ̷̝̫̠̊̊̄ỳ̸͍̌͜o̷̦̥͆͠ụ̴͎̙͊̊̀ ̶̗͍̔̐̅ĥ̷͍̔á̵̡̙͇͘v̵͍̩̔͑͜ḛ̵̞̰̾ ̴̨̯̓̋̔d̷̨͌̚o̸͇͂̍̚n̷̤̎̓͝e̵͔͐͊ ̴̲̋͑ë̷̡́n̸̖̼͗ơ̵̪̦͚̌̂u̵̘̽͝g̶̩̩͆͑͆h̶͓͐ͅ.̶̜̖̙̒͠ ̸͎̯͖̒I̶͈̝̾̚ͅ ̸̙̑̂ȟ̵͎͉̤̽ȧ̶̢̱͂͝v̶̻͒͗ȇ̶̤̘͘͝ ̶̡̐s̷̺̰̮͗e̶̙̹̠͗̒͝ę̶̫̟̋̑ñ̶͚̹͎̔͝ ̶̞̹̖̌h̵̼̯́͠͝o̵͍̯̝̓̆͂ẁ̸̘̌ ̷̥̺͙̎͊y̶̥̖̓ǫ̶͐͊͝u̷͈̅̋ ̴͚̹̔ḩ̸̝̿̔á̷̗͍̫v̴̜̗̌̕̕ͅe̵̟̦̿͗ ̴̨̖̇̈́̕l̷̛̯̓̈ͅä̶̬̫́́ḇ̵̄o̷̦̚̚ṟ̶̥͔͐͒̕e̶̡̺̓͝d̶͇̍̽,̴̤̝͓̈́ ̴̬̜̐͠ͅh̴̥͑o̴̳̊w̷̗̩̖͆̚ ̴̟̣͇̀̂y̸̱̎ǫ̸͕̩̅́u̶̟̤̙̇̏ ̵͇̫͎͋̈́h̶͔̳̓a̸̳͔̘͌̇̓v̶͇̭̖̀̎e̶̢̳̯͘̚ ̸̠̤̼̂̑̓t̴̠̖̜̒͂ö̵̝̜́̃i̷̞̳͖̒̌l̷̛̫͊e̴̛̥̯̐d̴͖̈́́̿ ̵͓̬͝o̵̮͔͗̓ṿ̶̜̱͐e̸͚̊̕r̵͇̾̋̒ ̷̞͕̓̒h̵̹̭͗̿o̷͉͑ẇ̷̦̤̱̍̈́ ̶͙̄b̷̻̠̅ĕ̵̦̟ś̵͙̣ẗ̵͇̤́̂ ̷̭̾̏̄t̸̢͚͇̀̽o̷̗͚̍̏̍ͅ ̷͙̙͒̒͠h̸̢̨̹̐͐̂e̵̮͒̍ĺ̶͍̣͊p̸͉̖̫͊̓́.̶̰͖̀͒ ̵̛̝̝̜͐H̶̙̾o̸̾̕͜w̵̲̐ ̷̧͎̼̂̋͠ÿ̸́̍͋͜ỏ̷̭͈u̸̠̓͐ ̴̦̌h̸̛̙ä̶̟́̃̒v̸̯̙̐ę̷̳̭̐ ̸̫̤̍ḩ̸͗̍̚ē̷̩̻̦l̵͕̬͋́ͅp̴̮̲͘e̷̡̠͇͆̈́ḍ̴̿ ̸̮̖͓̿̈͋m̸̝̀͘ͅẽ̶̬ ̷̜̣̉̈́͝ä̸̝́̈́͠s̷̼̠̈̚͝ ̴̫̗̋w̷̟̣̗̉ȩ̸̭͔̕l̵͖͍͆̄l̷̪̆͝ ̵̬̅͐̀à̵̛͔͛s̵̛͙̰͂͝ ̶̘̀̀̚t̷̪́h̵̢͘o̶̜̿́ș̶͕̞͑e̵̛̝ͅ ̴̨͙͇̚ạ̷̟̝̾̈͝r̵̡͑̉̔͜ō̶̟͚͂u̴͇͙̗͑n̴̨̈d̸͙͒ ̷̪́́y̴̖̆ȍ̶͙̞̬ù̸̳̭̹̓̈.̵̪̣̣̏̑͘ ̶̛̣́Ÿ̷͙́͌ò̷̢̘̠ú̵̺͌r̶̩͉̱̍̏̕ ̵͗͝ͅp̶̫̝͋r̸̻͈̳̈e̸̢̠̅̀̔s̸̻̮̰̋́e̷̘̻̠͋̈́n̷̥̙̓ͅc̷̗͍͓͝é̶̹̩ ̴̖̮̦̽͝h̵̦̫̏a̵̟͖͒̈́s̴̖̃̚ ̷͉͆̿b̵̛̺͗̽ȅ̴͙̘̹́ę̷̖̟̚n̵̡̜̉͋̚ ̸̭̻̄͑̄ǎ̴̪̭̲́ ̸̳͓̋̅b̶̭͊͒l̴͔̍e̷̹̱̱͌s̵͎͇͍̾͐ş̷͉̑i̸̳̣͂̒̚n̴̫͝ĝ̸͍̇ ̴̺̜̄̀̉o̶͍̓͑f̴̯̝̐͘̚ ̸̻̆ţ̸̙̌̋ḧ̴̞̼̿̕e̵̓͜ ̴̰̂̍̍h̸͉̤͇̀i̴̢̱̾̋̓g̵̛̰͔̘̀h̴̬̞̀́́e̵̙̝̊s̸̥̦͛̚t̴͉̲͇͐ ̸̠̈́́͊k̸̩͈̦̔̔i̷̢͊n̸̳̲̣͝ḑ̶̬͔̊ ̴̰̩̉ť̷͔͘ő̶͔ ̵̖̍͘m̸̙͕̩̍͗́e̸̼̟̓̽.̸̪̟̹̕͠ ̷̝̾̈́́I̸̽̚͜t̷̲͔̹̾͌̚ ̴̭̣̃͜w̷̥̏ͅȁ̴̼̑ś̸̺̭͖ ̵̠̤̋́̕w̵̯͂̉̆ẽ̴͈l̶̞̤̓̋ļ̸̥̹͂͗ ̴̜̀̔w̷̦͛͛̑ố̵͚̖̹̈́r̶̬̟͓͑̓̕ţ̷͍̙̾̽͘h̸̦͇̊ ̵͈̟̊̃̊ĕ̷͚̈́̒x̵̠̪̯̌̾͑p̷̠͉̯̑̉ė̶̬n̸̺͙͒̀ḓ̷̋͜ì̷̛̯̻͝ǹ̴͔͐g̶̗͌̉͝ ̷̝́t̵̼͙̊h̶͈̰̝̀e̷̮͛̋ ̶͕́̉e̶̺͂̍͐͜n̷̩̽͂͘e̶̩̰̿ͅr̶̹͗͝g̵͕͍̪̏͝ẙ̴͈̔͝ ̸̺̣͝t̴̯̋͝o̴̥̾̐ ̴̣̟̽̍b̴͉̩͕͝r̶̠͕͙̃i̴̪̤̫̇n̶͔͈̭͋ğ̷̬ ̵̤̣̏̈́̆y̵͕̞̌̌͒o̷̢͙͍̒ȕ̵̖ ̵̞́b̴̲̐̏̏a̶̛͎͜ͅc̵̨̭͐̀͝k̴̖͎̀͌.” She turns back to the small body that is now sleeping peacefully in her lap. She smiles and a beam of light lands gently on the scene in front of me. My breath is taken away. The light shines through her veil casting its playful shadows onto the little body before us. Her skin seems to gain a little warmth as it glows in the light of the moon. The black of her dress becomes more intense under the moon, highlighting the pale nature of her skin. The red on her lips, shimmers in the moonlight and the kiss on his forehead melts into his skin. She wipes the blood off his skin using her sleeve, showing my own pale skin that compliments hers. She looks tender and soft in the moonlight, like a mother cradling her child. I remove my domino and look at her in a new way. At first she scared me a little, I was unsure of her presence but, knowing what I know now, how could I have ever doubted her? Doubted her love? I can only hope that she loves my little Robins as much as she loves me, as much as I love them. I believe that Clockwork sent me here to speak with her, in the moment where her presence is the strongest so that she may help me on my way. “A certain gothic spirit" huh? It seems he meant that literally, not figuratively. Does that then mean that what the rest of what he was saying is the truth then? Can I trust Clockwork? I don’t want to trust him, but I do want to trust her, my Lady Gotham. I choose to believe that she would want to help me get Robin back, help me get my son Jason back.

“I̷͙͖͛̀͋ ̷̲́h̶̭͕̒̀͠ä̸̧̗͈́̏̓v̷͈͍̏̇͝e̴̓͛̕ͅ ̷̳͊a̸͔̝̓͝ ̴̠͑͐̍f̸̰͋̈̃a̸̯̪̽͝v̸̨̚͝o̸̝̓̇̂ŕ̸̛͈ ̴̳̰͓̏̽͛t̴̛͎͎̄͜͝ǫ̴̤̐̈́ ̸̫̰̬̀̈́͝a̸̢̦͌̌ș̵̳̄͠k̵̘̮̈ ̵̯̔o̷̦̫̱̎f̷̦̾͌͝ ̶͚͈͔̈́̆̚y̶̢̳͋͗ͅô̵̫̱u̸̮̥̓̈́͒,̷̖͎̈́ ̸̫̹͕̈ṁ̷̠y̵̡̺̋ ̵̻̤̫̽̓͠k̶̜͈̝̈́͂͊n̵͓̐͌͝ͅͅĩ̸̱̑̋͜g̴͓͔͗̋̊h̴̺͕̃t̵̬̓̎.̴̮̮̀̑̕ ̵̬͛́Ǐ̶̞͙̠͋ ̵͚̳̄̕ḱ̷͙͎̞͆͝ņ̶̦͙̏ȏ̶̼w̶̪̔̈́ ̵̝̑̆ť̶̙̬͗ĥ̶̦̖͖̚͠ȧ̵̪t̶̖͚̿ ̸͈͖̗̎̓ÿ̷̡̺̱́͘o̶͔͇͓͑u̷̬̟̻̐̑͗ ̵͓̖̥̃͘s̸͙̭͗͋͘ę̴͓̈̄͝ê̶̥͉̠͆̋k̸̺͈͇̅͊̀ ̵̼̥̟̾a̵̲͇̹̓ ̸̰̄͝w̸̹͗̚à̸̫̀͘ỷ̷͎ ̸̩̀t̵͉̔͆͘o̶̥͂̈́͛ ̷̧̗̍͌f̷̬̬̐i̶̪͎̹̅n̸̙̣̓̓d̶̹̲͛ ̵͙͙̣͊͗o̵͕͐̀̍ṳ̷͎͆͠r̵̨̫̹̓͋̈ ̵̧̭͎̓̐͛l̵̠̫͎̐̾i̶̞͔̓ẗ̷̠̪̝͆̾t̸̝̍̾͝l̶͚̠͑e̷̘̬̋̃ ̸̘̘̩̃̉̀R̵͖̎o̴̗͎̅̈́b̴̟̪̋ị̵͍͗n̴̯̞̎̈́ͅ.̸͎͌̚̕ ̷̧̟͕͌̚̕I̷̼͙̓͐̕ ̴̺̈́͜͝a̸̰̘̚̕m̶̞̓̽ ̷̹̚̕w̴̢̳͋̎̈i̸̼̎̋̕ļ̷̙̭̉̀͌l̴͕̼͐͝i̶͈̓̐͜n̷̠̙͈̾̄g̵͙̰̯͋͝ ̸̨̐̇͝ţ̴̮͉͆͝o̸̠̼̍̎ ̷̱̣̑͠t̶̺̺̋a̶̤͒̆̑k̵͓̣̄̑e̴̙̮͂̉̚ͅ ̷̢̡̯̓ý̵̡͓̱o̷̹̍ͅù̴͔̂͒ ̶̠̼̤̿̓t̵̛͔̊̑ͅo̷͉̮͈͊ ̸̼̀̊͘ģ̸͉̖̋̽̑e̴̖̳̾̾t̸̯̤̔̾̃ ̶̙̦̹̈̓͌h̸͕̊̀ḯ̸̜̔͜m̴̤͘ ̷͉͖̳͋b̶̛̫͛̔ą̷̡̧̊c̶̹͕̭̅̓k̶͉̀.̵̯͋ ̶̛̼̂I̵͓̾̀ ̴̖̏̑͠w̷̱̅̇i̵̡̛̯̓l̸͉̂̀l̵̜͋̈́ ̵̟͓̑͑ͅe̶͎̅͜ǹ̵̟͜s̵̖̍̿ǘ̸͎̘̏̾r̸̛̃̓ͅė̴̞̙̲ ̴̡͎̤̀̌t̶͔͕̳͌̀̂ḣ̶̘͑́a̸̢̜͌ț̴̓̀ ̵̝̮̟̍y̵̩̗̠̐o̵̪͖͂̾̀ú̴͚̭̓ ̶̙̑͐g̶̞̣͚̈́e̸̬̲̓t̶̘̬͇̑̊̈ ̴̡̱͈͂̓̓ä̷̻̳́̕n̴̫̝̣͊ ̸̻̗̐̌̾ạ̶̒̈͠ư̸̗̻͗͠d̷̛̫͍̎͐i̸̡̯̍e̵͙̲̺͐n̴̨̪̓͝c̷̟̾͝ḙ̷͑͜͝ ̶̠̔̒w̵̝͗i̴̱̬͊̚ͅṱ̶̉͂h̶̨̢͕͆ ̵͎͗t̸̞̞̪̐͗͠h̴̩͔̙̑e̸͚̪͓͐̈͝ ̴͚̑̕G̷̪̜̐h̴͔͈̉ǫ̶̟͖̅̀s̵̻̿̚t̸̥͊̚ ̵̩͋K̸͙͠i̸̢̝̭̓̚͠n̵̘͖̿̚͜ğ̷̳͑.̵͇̏͝ͅ ̷̢̘̯͗͝Ĭ̴̭̏ ̵̗̈́̈́́a̴̫̋s̴̟̳̄̆k̷̫͚͈͋ ̸̦̖̩̆͆t̷̠̅́͘h̶̖͇̩́͘a̷̟̥͖͠ṫ̷̲͘ ̶̱̒̾ẙ̷͚̖͜ȯ̶̢̹͕̈ü̶̡̜̔̓ ̶̧̪͛͌a̸̦̪̹̅̅͠c̷̜͔̬̿̂͝c̸̞̯͖̑͠e̸̟͊͠p̷̥͂ṯ̵̝̀ ̷͍̄w̶͔̣͑h̷̺̉ạ̶͚̓̀̀t̵̛͖e̸̹̺̟̔̀͛v̷̨̈́e̸͖̲̓̄r̵͎̖̀ ̸̪͓͠t̷̙̤̎h̶͈̖̄e̴̻̻̅ ̸̥̃͊ͅK̵͎̼͚̆i̶̢͙̔̕n̶̰͌́g̵̡̪̏̍ ̵̯̆̀ͅǡ̶̤͕̭͐s̷͕̱̽k̵̰̬͆̚s̷̹̊͝ ̷̗̊́o̴̩̽̔͝f̵̨̞͋ ̴̨̦̄̋̈y̸̨̫̗̎o̶͚̖̬͗u̷͙͊,̵̢͙͉͆́͘ ̷͇̐͝t̶͈̦̲͌h̴̨̢̐̊͆à̷̜̊t̶͖̀̆̆ ̴̼͐̂̒ỳ̸̨̮͜o̴̼̟͗ü̸̱̘̮̈́̎ ̸͕̗̃̃͑d̵̪̅͠͝ō̷̦̹̖͠ ̵̻̿̆̆ḩ̴̪͍͐͑́ȋ̸̼͎̲ş̷̪̤̊̒ ̶̹̭̹͌̅͠b̸͖͓̀͑į̵̲͌̾̔d̴̪̅́d̵͓͎̬̄̃͋ī̷͇̀͝n̸̪̯͂͐͘g̸̬͘ ̶̬̃̉l̷̨̹̈́̀i̴̩̪̪̓k̷̦̽̈́ẽ̸̬͔̈ ̴̞̿̓y̵̛͎͝o̴̹͉̍̄ͅu̸͙͉͛̎̉ ̵͔͇͈̍͆d̶̢̛̦̣o̴͎̔́ ̷̘̪͛m̷͚̩̓̒͜į̵͔̳͂͆̚n̷̘͗e̵̡̜͉̎.”

“I will My Lady, I will do whatever necessary to bring Robin back.” The resolution in my voice is strong and unwavering.

“G̶̣̋ỏ̸̙͜ò̵̮̰͒̂d̷̘̉̂͋͜.̷̦͗̆ ̶̮̊͝S̶͉̯̜̎̎t̴̹͈̯͛͊̈́e̶̡̜̹͝ṕ̷͓͓͑ ̷̧̣͋̀͘i̶̥͛ņ̸̯͐̃t̶͎̤̱̑o̶̖̟͉̐̍ ̴̬̥̺̀̿̇t̴͉́̊h̸̘̫̾͂e̷̞͈͛ ̸͖̯̠̎̏͒t̵̰̞̺͋h̶͔͘ê̴̝a̵̡͇͍͋t̸̻̣̟̀̽ė̸͓̍r̴̛̭͇̤͒,̶̧̛̣̹̍͛ ̶͕̿͠ ̴̟̖͋ͅt̷̩͖̓̊͑h̶͖͉͌̒e̵̮͑͒͠r̷̪͒͂ē̸̝̓ ̸̦̎y̶̡̰͑͒͑o̴̧̖͗͑̈́ų̵̜͚̈̑̓ ̶̡̼̈́̅͠ŵ̸̢̟̖̋̃i̵̥̗͌̀l̷̢̇̂͐l̶̫͖̲̄̾ ̴͖͐f̵̛̩͍̏̚í̵͉̿͑ṇ̸̜̋́d̵̢̾̔̎ ̵̗̩̓̆̽ỵ̶̛͔̣̾͝õ̶̢͈͆ͅṵ̶̡̗̿̽r̶̻̈́ ̷͔͂̕m̸̬̖͖͐͌͘ó̴̜̘͍̆d̸̙̓̿é̸̛̪͎ ̷͕͘o̸͚̯͎̒͠f̸̯͝ ̵̨͉̽͜t̷̤͌̚r̵̩̭̼͂̿̈́â̶̖̖̕ͅn̶̨͎̓̀̕s̶̟̟͖͛̆̏p̴̢̄ő̴̢͉͎r̸̼͗t̷̛̰͛ȧ̵̡̙t̴̤͔̯̽͗i̷̠̝̇̽ͅò̶̡̟n̸̨̝̋́ ̸̼̏̎i̷͈̤̅ͅñ̵̗t̷̪̗͋̀ọ̵̘͈̀ ̴̨̜̋̋͜t̴͍̯͓̅h̷̥̕è̸̦̮ ̶̩̓̕u̴̙̣͇̾ṇ̷̣͓͛̀̅d̸̤̓ȩ̶̱́r̴̝͚̘̃͂́w̴̫͉͖̃o̷̫̫̓͊͝r̸̠̩͊l̴͎̫͂̑ͅḋ̴̩̼͎̆̅.̵̣͐͘ͅ ̶̨̻̈́͂ͅP̵͘͜͜l̸̡̘̑͑͝ę̴͛a̷͉͈͗͜s̸̹̎̏̋ȩ̵̮̃̎̄ ̵͖͆́d̴̻̩̘̆o̸͈͗ ̷͙̣̑̃͑b̶̞͖̫̊̑ḙ̶͑ ̵̦̇̽̑ẃ̸̜̣a̵̳̮̘͛̊͌r̶̡̼̩̎ň̵̢͓̺e̴̳͉̮̕d̸̢̛̑ ̶̨̎t̵̰͗ĥ̶̟̞̊̾a̸͉̬͊͗̅t̶̡̊̈́͜͝ ̵͎̃I̴̞͌ ̸̹̉m̵̱̬̂̏ä̷͈̞̫͆̈ÿ̸͈̺̔̂ ̵͕̘̼̿̅n̵͈̎̀ö̶͍̈ẗ̸̝̩́͗͋ ̵̨̿b̴̛͓̐e̸̡̛̤͑ ̷̹͎͎͐́a̶̫̦̭͑͆b̸̻͋̚ļ̷̨͍̇̓e̴̜̼̅̄͝ ̵̘͋̽t̷̼̽o̵̬̗̊͝ ̷̯̦̦̅a̴̭̱̠̓̇ṡ̶̺͚̚̕s̸̗̺̾i̷̤̪͠ṡ̷̖ͅt̴̡̲̘͑̿͗ ̸̼̀͋̉y̷͔͆̆̃o̵̱͊̔͠ṳ̷͓͗ͅ ̸̨͖͗̈́ț̵͚̘̀̆͋ḫ̶̱͗͆̌e̸̛͉̽ṛ̵̓͘͝e̷͎̻̦̾̓͂,̷̧̯̌ ̴͖̻̆̀I̵̳͝ ̷͍̪̹̅ą̵͈̩͑̑̈́m̸̢̘̉͋̈́ ̴̞̈́̈́͝ȯ̵̤n̷̡̥͈͂͂͘e̶͉͌̈́ ̵̟̏͜ŏ̵̡̓f̸̙͆̇͛ ̶͚̟͊ͅm̶͙͖͊͒͜ȧ̴̻͇n̷̨̻̟̉y̷̘͛͗̽ ̴̳̜͔͋t̶̙͖̩̋̕ẖ̸͓͙̀e̷͇̤͈̋̈́r̶̛̙̲̈́̾e̸̻͗.̸̱̍͆͝ ̶̥͛M̵̬̎̊͝ỵ̵̏ ̴̩̻̒͌̓h̵̙̝̆͆̈́ͅa̸̪͊̂̓u̷͕̳̍̂͑n̸̤̚̕t̴̨̯̽ ̵̢̜̀͠r̶̹̲̆͋é̴̳s̸̛͈̳̀͜t̶̼̩̤̐ṣ̸̘̼̄̌ ̷̙̤̰͆ḧ̴̢̞̱́e̸̡̅r̶̤͚̀ě̴͉͚ ̶̭̀a̴̡̹̗̓̕͠n̴͓͎͔͂͒͗d̶͈̯̊̓ ̷͙͚̖̃́n̵͎̾͐͌ȯ̸̟ţ̶̆͘ ̸̲͚̀͑̿ỉ̵̝̱̇͠ͅṇ̵̨̎ ̶̜̘͓́̋͠ẗ̸̹̳̝́h̴͚͍̺͑e̷̖̗͈͒ ̵͉̟͘͝r̴͍̉͊̅ę̸̛̠̬a̵̧͕͋͘͠ļ̷͕̤̅m̵̖̍s̴̛͍͈,̶̙̳́͛̚ ̶̙̺́͝s̵̥̻̓͠ǫ̷̗͖̈̅ ̸̡̓́m̴̜̹̦̎́ỷ̵̡̼̪͗͊ ̴͕͚̀͐̌p̷̻̹̭͊̓̃o̸̭͎̗̾w̶̯͛̂e̸͚̥͓̓̍r̷̗͕̞̈́s̵̠̈̕ͅ ̸͕͔͆̌̾à̶͖̌r̵͙̦̱̔͝e̷̻͙̲͊̔̚ ̵͖̘͙̓l̸̥̊̾̋i̷̫͓̓͘m̶͇̀ĩ̷͚͊t̴̯̾̽ẹ̴͌͌͊d̴̘͊̍.̷͙͉̽ ̴͓̂͠P̶͖̓̔l̶̛̠͆ë̶͎͋̕a̷͖̗̅s̸͎̹̤̄͗͠ȅ̷͔͇͎ ̵̖̣͠g̷̬̽i̸̭͆v̸̻̊͜e̴̦͝͝ ̷̜̹̯͒̎̽t̴̪̥̫͗h̵͖́̄͘i̵̙̪͂s̶̰̻͆̐ ̸̧̖̯̄͌t̴͍͔̜̅͑o̴͚̖̹͐̆̔ ̸̞̱̋ṱ̵͝h̷͉͙͐̎ë̵̲̲́ ̵̗̘̻̑̂k̶̢̠͍̀͒ï̴̞̤n̶̦͈̏̀̉g̷̨̈́ ̸̮͉̎ẇ̸̯͇͌̅ḣ̶̬̱̆͠e̸̅̀̿͜ͅn̶͇̿̍ ̵̗̓̌y̵͍͓̟̌̾o̵̹͔̽̄͐ǘ̷͓̮̽̅ ̸̙͚̏͆s̷̥͓͎̀̈́͝ě̸͎̦͙́e̴̙͔͆ ̸̰̰͍̍͠h̵͇̠̦͘i̵̤̋͂͋m̸̜̃́.̵͗͆͜͝ She hands me a letter with an official looking seal. I tuck the letter away into a pouch on my belt for safekeeping. Then she pulls out an ornate looking silver pin with a pair of wings that look like a bat. She pins it onto my cape. “Th̸̠͙̒̔͘a̶͙̼͔̿͌t̶̡̓̈́͘ ̶̙̓ẃ̶̨͔̻̌̉i̴̩͍̹̚l̴̘̽̐͗l̸̩̦̦̉͂̕ ̴̞̓ḷ̵͇͆͘e̶̥̊t̶̗̿̐͝ ̸̲́́͘t̴̫͋̇͝h̵͍̄͝ő̷̢̺̉̌s̶̛͔̃e̸̻͆͝ ̸̢͛ĩ̸͈̇n̸͇͓̜̾̔ ̴͍̞̖͌̑t̷̗̠̖̋̃̚ḧ̵̭́̇ẻ̵̫̥̏̃ ̵̺̍̆͝r̵̮͈̀e̴̥̖̝͌̒à̵͙̼̹l̸̡̻̺̉͆͠m̸̤̲̾ ̴͚̩̀̏̐ǩ̶̮n̷̥̥̏̋o̶̤͇̅͠w̴͔̘͚̔͐͆ ̵̣̜̻́t̶̘̟̂ĥ̵̥a̷̹̹͂͝ẗ̸̲́̚ ̶͉̏̊ÿ̵͉͐o̵͍͎̙͂̀ú̸̟̘̔̕ ̴̬̬͆͐a̸̛̦̿̑ŗ̶͈̥̅̒͝e̵̤̫̓ ̷̹͊͒͆m̵̧͙̯̓i̷̧͝n̷͔̠̠͗͝ȇ̸͓͚̥̅̅.̵̭̺̜̂͛ ̶̫͊͘T̵͈̔h̷̝͍̊̈́̕͜è̵̘͝ ̴̩̩̤̽̎͠p̸̡͎̂̎̕ǐ̴̤̜͛ṉ̶̩͌̎̿ ̸̲̞͗̈́̀ͅi̸̖̔s̴͓̹͇̾́ ̸͉́̓̀i̷̻͛͂n̶͖̠̺̈̅̚f̵̹̿͌͂ͅu̶̒͜s̴̘̣͈̕e̷̡͙͙͠d̵̛̮̙̜̑ ̵̨͕̂͝ŵ̶̞̊̆ĩ̴̱̖̈̉ṭ̶͍̾̀͂h̵͉͍̓̚͠ ̶̟͓̏͜m̶̯̅̓̑y̶̟͐̉̚ ̵̦̳̋͆̿o̵̜͊̒w̷̥̐̄̿n̵͕̅ ̷̯̹̞̀̃ȩ̴̧͙́͊͠n̷͇̺̈ę̸̨͑̏r̷̰̻̽g̵̫̊̈ÿ̶͚̠̞͌͊,̶̮̲̋́̈ ̶̝̦͍̏̈́̂d̴͙̙̒́̄ǒ̶̙͚̫̇ ̸̭̽n̸͚͐̅̈ơ̵̟͙̱͆̃ẗ̴̢͈͇ ̵̛̠̣͍̇l̷̘̅̐͗o̴̱͝s̸̳̩̫͒ę̵̬̌̽ ̴̺͔͙̈́̈́̎i̵̬̿t̴͓̞̆̋.̶͉͕̟̑̂̓ ̸̡̏͒K̴̠͓͊̅ȩ̴̢̦͑e̶̹̓͘ͅp̸̨̮̺̂̎ ̵͈̪̒͌̓í̷̲͍̌̃t̴͈͇̊ ̶͔̼͆w̵̩͖̳̽í̴̺͈t̵̯̓͜h̴̭́͑͛ ̸͍̳̤͒y̵̠̅̉̈́ó̶̙̻̰ṳ̷̦̍ ̷̤̏̓͝a̶̱̿͗͘ļ̵̲̲̃̕w̷̧͎͂͊a̷͙̓̈́ÿ̴̘̼͒͐š̸̖͑̕.̸̭͆͜ ̵̙̬̾͂̈Ȉ̵̡͔̂t̴͇̀ ̶̠̰̎w̴͍̰̾͌̊i̴̼̲̦͛͂͊ĺ̸̹̽ḻ̵̢̛̕ ̸̣̩̳̅̌a̵̼̰͊̐l̵̡͇̇s̶̢͎̈́͠ͅo̴̬̅ ̴̩̓̕g̷̺̿r̶͈͙̍̈́ǎ̸̬̼͎͐n̸̤̐t̶͚̙̣̽̑͠ ̷̰̐̌̓y̷͚̱͋̑̈́o̶͇͌u̴̱̹̺͝͝ ̸̦̙̣̎a̵̗̱̞͐͛͠n̵̛̞̓ ̶͜͝a̵͖͙̺̓u̸̜̎͑͜͝d̸̠̖̈́ì̴͕͔͖̓̉e̷̛̜̖͍ń̸̘͘͠c̵̰̰̿ȩ̸̦̩̽ ̶̗̱́̏̀ẉ̷̭̬̿̋̒ī̸̭̐̕͜t̵̥̺̑̎ḣ̴̎̍͜ ̶̦͉̊̆͐t̷̥̃̈́ḫ̸̺͊̍͑ȅ̷͉͖̱͆͝ ̵̣̌͗̎K̴͎̾̎̚i̷̻͗̽͘n̶̘̻̹͆̐͘g̸͓͒.”

Sirens begin to blare interrupting us. I hear the pounding of footsteps and I know that our time together has run out. I make a hasty escape to the theatre, before I enter I stop, turn around and bow as low as I can to the still kneeling Lady Gotham. She places little Bruce gently onto the concrete and stands up. She gives me one final nod and with that, disappears into the awaiting shadows. I stand up straight, to confront a bittersweet memory, and walk into the last place I saw my parents alive.

Chapter Text

I need to find someone to marry me. I need a plan. How do I do that? I groan and roll over on my bed, burying my face into the pillow. I have 50,000 other things I could be doing that are more important but no. I have to get married because I am being told to. This is bullshit and I know it. I don’t even know where to start? Well, lying here whining about it isn’t helping me any. I sit up and groan again, just because I can. I get up, meandering my way over to the desk. I don’t really want to even begin to try to figure this out but I have to at least try. Sitting in the plush black desk chair, I pull a pen and paper closer to me to write on. Ok, maybe I should make a list of eligible suitors?

Ideally, they would at least be somewhat in my age range. Wait… should I count my age range as 23 or 28? That isn’t that big of a difference in terms of age, but in terms of mentality it is. Someone who is 23, probably isn’t going to act like a 28 year old. I think… I think I feel more like I am 28 than 23. So someone with a more mature mindset would match mine better, they also would have goals that align closer to mine too. I think that takes Kitty and Johnny off the list of potential suitors, which now that I think about it, probably would be a bad idea anyway. Ok so maybe I should look for someone who is passionate about their job, who loves what they do, it could give us something to talk about. I may not love being the Ghost King, but I do take my job seriously, and put a lot of effort into it. Ember? No. She would tell me to “Fuck off”, she also would be more likely to try to take down the government than rule it. I wish I could consider Sam, but I think that we are better friends than lovers or anything like that. Also I can recall all of the times that she had power in her hands… I still can’t get over her changing the lunch menu to be ultra cyclo vegan or whatever. I would feel bad for dragging Val into all of my bullshit, so she is off the list. Sam and Val are also alive, which, you know I would prefer to keep them that way, so I doubly strike them off the list. Paulina… She actually wouldn’t be a terrible choice, but also is tragically alive. I should pick someone who is already dead then. I sigh, thinking of all the female ghosts that I have fought that would be just such great matches…NOT! Like Desiree? That is a horrible idea, giving her that much power? I shudder to think what she would do with it. She already tries to bend reality enough with her own powers, never mind what making her a ruler of the ghost realm would do. I need someone who is responsible with power like…Pandora? Ok, wait, could she be a viable option? I go ahead and write her name on the piece of paper. I don’t think she would be willing to accept my proposal though, she is an Amazon, and famously, they do not marry, but still. I could also consider Princess Dorthea? Again, it could work but… I really don’t want a wife that when pissed off turns into a dragon. I add her name anyway. Wait. Would the bro code dictate Tucker could marry me? If I genuinely asked him? For my own good? I pause and consider the implications of having Tucker as my husband. I immediately strike him out as a candidate, he would not be the best husband, no offense to Tucker, it’s just…. No. It would never work between us, additionally, he is also coincidentally alive. I do not even begin to consider Dani, she is like a little sister to me. Uhhhh, who else is there? I wrack my brain desperately trying to think of other options. Frostbite? No that is just cursed, the dude is a good mentor figure and that is it! Wulf? No. Let's not go there. Definitely not Spectra, I would sooner permanently die for good than let Spectra near me like that.

Vlad?

I let the silence in my mind speak for itself. Just how desperate am I?

I can’t think of a single person dead or alive who would be a perfect match. What else is there to do? I look at my measly list of two names, who I don’t really want to marry anyway. This is just depressing. I scrunch up my little list into a ball and throw it into the fire warming the room in the hearth. It burns into ashes immediately to my immense satisfaction.

What other options do I have? Maybe there is something that kings in the past did to find a suitable spouse that I can do? Some kind of courting ritual? Maybe a ball of some sort. Like a fancy party where I could scout someone to potentially be with. Then I remember that I was given a deadline. That deadline was a month… but I may have spent a week or two…. deliberately avoiding thinking about such a thing. So realistically I only have like two ish weeks left… 16 days… which is not enough to hold a ball of such caliber, additionally, there is no guarantee that such a plan would work. I would also have to plan a whole entire ball if I did, which I don’t have the time for.

Ok, so…. Maybe I need to go somewhere where ghosts naturally meet? Like a bar, or party or… where do ghosts meet? Graveyards? No, that doesn’t seem right. Could I go to a coffee shop in the ghost realm? That has to exist right? Some kind of meet cute like it came straight out of one of Jazz’s romance novels. Real life isn’t like a romance novel though…I don’t know! Would some stranger I just met even want to marry me anyway? I wouldn’t want to marry someone who came out of nowhere begging me to marry them! Who would agree to that? They would have to be desperate or insane.

I need another option, any option. But with time marching forward, I am slowly running out of it, and with it, my options. I feel the panic welling up within me. My grip on my emotions is loosening. My breath comes out harder in my panicked state and the grip on my pen causes it to snap. It’s going to be ok I remind myself, I still have time (for now) and I haven’t lost control of the situation. I can still talk to Pandora or Dorthy and see if maybe one of them will accept my proposal. I take deep breaths and try to return to a sense of calm. Even with my emotions getting harder to control and my mental state fraying, I can keep things under control. I have to.

I force myself to think. What happens if I don’t find someone to marry in time? Well the obvious answer is that the observants would pick someone to marry me. They explicitly told me that. Who would the observants pick? I have no idea. Again, it would have to someone who is some level of dead (duh), someone of significant renown (I am king afterall), and probably someone that they can push around. The observants already spend too much of my time trying to push me around, there is no need to give them another way to do so…

It takes me back. Back to the very first meeting I had with the observants as king.

Sitting on my new throne I can't help but pick at my finger nails. Watching as the skin around the nail comes off and regrows thanks to my powers. The low murmur of the crowd slowly begins to boil as an argument breaks out. I had been watching the events in front of me play out. More specifically, they were currently deciding the fate of Fright Knight. I had just been crowned a week ago, and now, they are trying to take Fright Knight away and lock him into Walker’s prison. They claim that he helped Pariah with his tyrannical rule, and that his actions during that time directly contributed to the detriment of the realms.

I can’t necessarily disagree with that notion, but…

His current role in my administration is too crucial.

Right now, he is one of the few ghosts that I truly believe that is loyal to me and not only that, but is one of the few that will do whatever necessary to ensure the prosperous future of the realms. He has sworn his unending allegiance to me and my rule. He has vowed on his core. That sort of loyalty should be rewarded not punished.

Those that are on Fright Knight's side argue that he has been faithfully serving the realms for years, and not only that, but his presence in the realms is necessary. Crucial to the survival of the realms due to his embodiment as the spirit of halloween.

Again, they have a valid point, and it is not one that the other side is particularly fond of. It is also the side that I ultimately agree with.

But… what if I favor one side too heavily? Will I alienate those who do not agree with my view point? Will it look biased? I can’t help the severe frown that covers my face.

The headache that has slowly begun to build up reaches a crescendo when the crowd begins to shout at me instead of each other. All I can hear is the screaming cacophony of voices that beg me to agree with them. “He is too dangerous!” “He has protected all of us!” “Fright Knight is necessary for the realms to continue!” “HIs presence puts all of us in danger!” “My king! See sense-” “MY KING!” “KING PHANTOM PLEASE-”

“Be quiet.”

The cacophony continues despite my demand.

“SILENCE!”

The force of my ghostly wail causes everyone in the room to shudder.Finally. Blessedly. The hall falls quiet. I can think again.

“That is enough. I can see that this debate is going nowhere. Here is what we will do.” I look each ghost in the eye, not backing down. A few try to glare back, but ultimately crumble under the weight of my stare. I can't let this go. I have to ensure that they listen to me or I will never gain control. When all eyes in the hall are on me, quietly listening, I continue. “Those that believe that Fright Knight should be punished for his actions please go to the right side of the throne room. Those who believe that Fright Knight should be pardoned please go to the left.”

I watch as they slowly sort themselves out. There is a significant difference in the two sides. The side that defends Fright Knight is far smaller than those that are against him. A few stragglers remain in the middle. “Those of you who remain in the middle, why do you linger there?” I can’t help but ask, wondering if they have a problem with me, or if they are undecided.

“We… are undecided my king…” An observant steps up, evidently unsure of my reaction.

“Hmm.. you may remain there, until you do decide.” Silently implying that they better come to a conclusion. I then turn my gaze to the two warring sides. “Pick a representative and send them forward in front of me. Whoever can best persuade me will decide the fate of Fright Knight. The others will have to accept my decree. Are we all in agreement?” The tone of my voice, despite the question, implies that they do not have a choice in the matter, steely and unwavering.

Mummers break out as the two sides debate as to who has the best chance of convincing me to their side. Eventually, once the mummers cease, two very ornately dressed observants kneel before my throne. “My king.” Their voices carry two very different tones. One has an aura of respect to me, and the other seems more like they would rather call me anything but their king.

At first I can’t help but want to react to the disrespect. To immediately snarl and refuse the presence of someone who would spit in my face given the chance, but with this…. Asshole… representing a majority of the room, perhaps I would be better served reining in my temper.

I instead address the other representative, “Do you have a name that I may address you by?” I ignore the disrespectful ass who is now gritting their proverbial teeth.

Silence. I can see that they are trying to figure out how to respond, not without causing disrespect. “If you do not have something that I may call you by, perhaps I can offer you some manner of address?”

They shift forward and back, and then, “None of us have names.. So to speak we all are just… observants. That is… just our manner of address. Please do not refer to us as anything other than that, for that is our assigned role. We do not desire anything else outside of our role, including other manners of address.”

“Very well then,” I say as diplomatically as I can manage “let us move on then.” I eye the rest of the room, sensing that I barely avoided a land mine there. “Would you like to give your arguments in this debate first?”

“Yes King Phantom.” The observant’s voice is full of relief. “ Fright Knight has been a pillar of our community for millennia. His continued and unwavering service has been a backbone for all of us.” The observant stands and diplomatically addresses the room. “How many of you in recent years have truly been afraid of his presence? That his presence has caused you to worry that Pariah Dark would come to continue his age of tyranny?” The room is silent, thinking on their words. “Additonally, he is the spirit of Halloween, which I think all of you know how important that particular role of his is. That is the one of the few times of year in which the barrier between realms is thinned enough to allow us a chance to reside alongside those still in the mortal realm. Without him, this opportunity would be wasted.” I can see the room warming to their words when…

“Hold it right there!” The other representative cuts in, done with waiting their turn. “That is simply not the truth!” I glare at the interrupter, but they continue on, unfazed. “Do you not remember what they did under Pariah Dark’s rule?! I remember! We all remember!" They stand and turn abruptly to the crowd, clearly trying to provoke a reaction. They give them one. The room breaks out into shouts and arguments again, with both sides looking increasingly hostile. The group in the middle of the warring factions makes up their minds. They turn and join those who would lock up one of my best supporters. It infuriates me. “Fright Knight is nothing but a traitor! A traitor to all of us, and should be locked away for the atrocities that he has committed in Pariah Dark’s name!” Those who were defending Fright Knight began to look nervously at one another.

A mob is forming.

What should I do?

Then, like an angel from heaven, sent to save me, Clockwork walks in.

Slowly his steps begin to echo in the hall, silence descending as everyone registers his presence.

“Clockwork,” I greet, trying not to react one way or another, knowing that there is something else going on here. “Perhaps, you might have something to contribute to this… discussion?” I end that sentence diplomatically knowing that discussion was the furthest thing that this was.

Clockwork smiles at me politely. “Yes, King Phantom. I believe that I have an adequate solution to this discussion.” He turns to the crowd and opens a mirror. Gaps ring out across the room.

Clockwork has opened a mirror to the future.

It shows Fright Knight who is… decidedly not in prison. In fact it seems that he is defending me? From something? It is rather unclear, with the future not entirely decided yet, but it seems that Fright Knight still has an important role in future events. If I already hadn’t made up my mind about this, that certainly would do it.

I stand. I can feel everyone's expectations for me, all of their eyes on me. Taking a deep breath, I prepare to give my answer.

“In the case of Fright Knight, and as to whether or not his actions during Pariah Dark’s rule deserve punishment or a pardon, I decree..”

Snapping out of my haze, I refocus. I still don’t have an answer to my current dilemma. I need outside help. Like how Clockwork helped me back then.

Maybe… Maybe it’s time to talk to Dani. Or to Jazz. I haven’t seen either of them in a while. How long has it been? To my immense dissatisfaction, I can’t remember the last time I saw either of them. I have been so caught up in all of my duties that I have neglected my own personal bonds. It hits me just how isolated I have been for these last couple of years. All I have done I run this massive kingdom, and meet with people who would rather manipulate me for their own gain than help. It is more than time to fix that.