Chapter Text
She knew this was coming.
How could she not know it was coming? It was imprinted into her bones and ectoplasm, in her core, in the very makeup of her being. It was a day all ghosts knew the moment their hearts stopped beating and their lungs stopped drawing in oxygen and in the next moment ectoplasmic power flooded their bodies and their cores hummed and Obsessions and unfinished businesses burned in their beings. It was a day that all deceased ghosts experienced and relived over the years of their existence no matter if they were spectres or apparitions, and not even half-ghosts like her were exempt to this day.
A death day. Her death day.
And she had to be in the worst place to have it.
Dani sucked in a pained breath, one hand gripping her chest over where her core was, the other braced against the grimy alley wall as her body trembled, pain rushing through her in waves. Sweat dripped down her face as her eyes screwed shut from the pain, lips clamped together so tight her fangs were digging into her bottom lip, so much pain shaking through her, knowing it was just the beginning, her body bracing itself for the moment the full force of her death and all the agony she experienced hit her, that while she was hoping for a few minutes, with her luck it would be hours of excruciating pain and fear.
Dani’s eyes burned green with anger. Ancients, she hated death days, hated how fucking unpredictable they were, that the only predictable thing about them was that they happened on the day a ghost died every year since their death and experiencing your death again exactly how it happened with all the pain and fear that came with it, hated that she wouldn’t know how long her death day would last this year, hated the city she was in, hated that her death day relived everything about her death and she had to check after it was over that she wasn’t dying again, that she was still here and still stabilised, had to make sure she wasn’t melting into ectoplasm again.
But most of all, she hated how horribly she misjudged the timing, that she hadn’t gotten out before it struck, and now she was here, miles away from where Dani wanted to be and the people she wanted to ride this out with, that of all the terrible places she had to be stuck in on her death day, the pain of her death making flight and portals an agonising thought, it had to be this place.
Gotham City.
Yeah, Dani couldn’t have picked a worse place to be stuck in.
Letting her head thump against the wall, Dani hissed as her core gave a painful squeeze, clenching itself into a tight ball in her chest as another wave of pain shook her body. Puddles shuddered around Dani, her power reaching out to the nearest bodies of water as she clutched her chest, a pain-filled whine scraping past her throat, edged with a scream. She wanted nothing more than to curl up into a tight ball and stay in this grimy little alley to ride out her death day, but Dani knew that was a stupid idea in Gotham, when reliving her death would leave her defenceless and unable to use her powers, that her vulnerability would be taken advantage of and she could be hurt or killed or something worse that happened to nameless and homeless girls in Gotham. She couldn’t even count on Gotham’s vigilantes to save her if the worst case scenario happened, that whatever bad thing she was thinking of would happen to her too quickly before they could arrive.
She had no choice but to leave and find somewhere else in Gotham, somewhere that was safe, to hole up in and ride out her death day, before the full force of it hit her. Now.
Dani let herself rest a moment longer against the alley wall before pushing herself off of it, stars pinwheeling in her vision as she staggered out of the alley and onto Gotham’s darkening streets as night fell over the city, head lowered and one hand in the pocket of her worn jeans while the other had a death grip on her hoodie, where her core was. Pain trembled through her limbs but Dani ignored it, eyes scanning the buildings around her for potential safe spaces even as every inch of her being screamed in agony.
She was stubborn, after all. Most of that was her own, but some of it was inherited from Danny. It was both a sibling and a clone trait.
At the thought of her brother, an arrow of pain stabbed Dani’s heart and core before she mentally grabbed it and shoved it to the back of her brain. She couldn’t think of Danny, think of any of her fraid. Not now. She could get through this without them. She did it before, on her first death day. Thinking about them would only hurt more, and right now Dani needed to remain focused.
Find a safe place. Hole up in there, and hope her screams didn’t attract any of Gotham’s criminals or Rogues to her location until it was over.
Dani repeated that like a mantra as she half-walked, half-staggered down the street, blinking rapidly to keep the dark spots from blotting out her vision, hunched in on herself and body shaking. She could feel eyes on her, both the living and the dead, Gotham’s ghosts understanding what was she going through while the humans viewed her with judgement and scorn at her trembling body and sweaty face, that Dani could guess at what they would be whispering about her even if she didn’t have enhanced hearing—homeless, street rat, Crime Alley trash, another teenage addict, not worth our time or sympathy—but that was okay.
Better them thinking she was a piece of rubbish on the street than think she was a target to mug or get knifed in the ribs.
Not that Dani wasn’t getting those vibes too. A pair of shady characters eyed her more hungrily than others, making Dani’s skin crawl. And despite the pain, Dani turned to them, baring her fangs and eyes glinting a dangerous shade of green, an inhuman growl slipping out of her throat as she projected as much of her aura and power as possible, that they should back off or they would be the ones to end up dead in a filthy alley or empty ditch or some other forgotten place in Gotham.
The would-be muggers or rapists got the message, a look of fear glazing their faces before they turned tail and retreated. Dani’s aura faded and she doubled over, gasping as jagged breaths sliced her lungs, her core protesting at the use of her powers, even if it was one of her more milder powers. Clenching her jaw, Dani straightened as much as she could and kept walking down Gotham’s streets, still looking for a place to stay.
She could do this. She could find somewhere. She went through a death day alone before. She could do it again.
(Her first death day, she’d been alone. She could hardly remember where she was on her first death day, only the pain and terror it had brought. Her second death day, she hadn’t been alone, had been in Amity Park with Danny and the rest of their fraid. Sam had pierced her ears and dyed her bangs and parts of her hair blue and taught her how to do graffiti art and tags, Jazz had baked cookies with her and they’d come out only half-burnt, Tucker played video games with her, Valerie showed her how to shoot a gun and how to break someone’s hold on her and judo flip someone and Danny had held her, the only one Dani let touch her during the worst of the pain, knowing just how terrible death days were, and when the full force hit they watched movies in Sam’s home theatre and eating the half-burnt cookies while Dani was snuggled up in blankets, ears sore from her piercings and foils in her hair as the dye settled in, Danny’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, her core purring with contentment and love and safety, that she wasn’t alone.
She didn’t think she’d be alone today.)
Dani ground her teeth, beating back those memories away and locking them in a chest, ignoring the painful clench of her core at the thought of her fraid, the distressed call it made for them, as she forced herself to keep moving. Another shudder of pain rocked through Dani and her foot snagged on a broken piece of pavement. Her hand snatched out, landing on a wall, steadying her as Dani panted, breathing in and out. As she did, the shadows and ambient ectoplasm in Gotham shifted, Lady Gotham’s attention turned to the halfa experiencing her death day in her city. She could feel the city-spirit’s pity, the comfort resonating through the ambient ectoplasm and the bricks toward her. Dani smiled and sent a small pulse of energy into the wall, feeling Lady Gotham accept it and turn away, settling into the bones of her city as Dani herself moved away from the wall and kept walking—but not before the city-spirit whispered an offer of safety, that she would open up a place Dani could hide in and direct her there if she needed it, that she would be safe there for the rest of her death day.
Dani didn’t take it up. She appreciated it, that it was more than any city-spirit could offer to a visiting ghost like her, but Dani wanted to try and find a safe place herself. If she was even more desperate, if she hadn’t had time, then she would take it up.
She had learned a long time ago that those types of offers from powerful beings like city-spirits didn’t come without a catch.
One stumbling foot in front of the other, Dani navigated Gotham’s streets, vision blurred out except for the sidewalk under her feet and the strands of black and faded blue hair (she wanted Sam to redo her streaks again next time she ghosted through Amity), stumbling deeper into its heart but she hardly noticed, the world blotted out except for the pain rippling through her and her stubborn determination to find a place to hide in.
Until her instincts screamed at Dani to stop and she froze in place inches away from stepping into Crime Alley.
Every part of Dani that wasn’t consumed with pain tensed. She knew about Crime Alley, from what she overheard from the living and from talking with the ghosts, that it was the most crime-ridden part of Gotham and the turf of the Red Hood, who protected it with the viciousness of a ghost protecting their Haunt—and that was saying something, since Dani had instantly gotten “Back off or be eviscerated” vibes from the ghost who claimed it as theirs the first time she walked too close. That more than the crime and red helmeted, gun-toting vigilante had Dani give Crime Alley a wide berth if she could help it.
And now, she was at the mouth of it, as Crime Alley’s nightlife woke up, joining the apparitions and blob ghosts ghosting its streets and alleys.
The ectoplasm in Dani’s system shuddered, her core curling into itself as she kept staring at Crime Alley, the aggressively defensive aura of the Haunt snapping at her to back off. She should listen and leave, make her way to the Narrows instead, that it would be stupid of her to enter and risk getting attacked and piss off the ghost. And yet…
There could be somewhere in Crime Alley that Dani could hide in, some crack in a building or abandoned apartment that she could squat in. Somewhere she would be safe.
Pain speared through her core and radiated out throughout her system, Dani biting back a scream as stars whirled in her vision, her stomach churning with nausea, the feeling of electricity burning her cells as she slowly dissolved ghosting through her. Panting, Dani looked at Crime Alley, decision made. She didn’t have the time to keep navigating Gotham, especially as it had now grown fully dark. Haunt or not, it had to be Crime Alley. And besides, she asked permission from Lady Gotham before she entered her city, it should hold in Crime Alley. Right?
If it didn’t, entering a Haunt without permission and all the consequences that came with it could be a problem for Future Dani. Right now, Present Dani didn’t fucking care.
Taking a breath to brace herself and pushing down every instinct to turn around and walk in the opposite direction as quickly as possible, Dani stepped foot into Crime Alley—and doubled over gagging.
The ambient ectoplasm in Crime Alley was putrid, permeating every crack and crevice in the Haunt, sticking to the living and the dead alike like a slimy shadow of foulness. Dani was choking on it, her core and ectoplasm revolting against the ambient ecto, her nausea worsening at the taste and smell, and she could feel it reacting to her presence, the ectoplasm spiking up in alarm like the tripwires in a spider’s web—and alerting the ghost who claimed it as their Haunt.
Now Dani really hoped she never crossed paths with the ghost, that she could vacate this Haunt after her death day was over before they found her. If their Haunt’s ambient ectoplasm was this bad, then Dani did not want to meet the ghost who claimed it. And that she felt really sorry for the poor blob ghosts doing their best to filter this vileness from the ambient ectoplasm.
Swallowing down her revulsion, Dani straightened and headed deeper into Crime Alley’s warren of streets and titular alleys, head down and arms wrapped tight around her middle, the rank ambient ecto clinging to her, eyes scanning for a place she could hide in. Like before, she felt the eyes of living and dead alike on her—potential muggers and attackers eyeing her up as an easy target, groups of homeless people eyeing her warily, street kids glaring at her intruding their turf, working girls in trench coats and leather jackets over mini skirts, fishnets and boots and high heels giving her warning looks before they softened into looks of concern. And the dead…
The apparitions did a double take at noticing her, at sensing her core and her status as someone both alive and dead, before it melted into familiar sympathy, concern and understanding, the blobs bobbing closer to Dani, chirping in worry before they returned to their endless task of filtering the taint from the ambient ecto.
One of the ghosts peeled away from the main group, a young man who couldn’t be any older than Jazz with dark hair and bullet holes riddling his body, a look of concern on his face as he called out, “Kid. Hey, kid.”
Dani glanced at him before looking away, wholly focused on finding somewhere safe and ignoring the pain blazing through her.
The ghost came closer to her, before his eyes widened. “Holy shit. You’re Phantom’s sister.”
“What gave it away?” Dani mumbled, staggering forward another step. She could feel more eyes on her, but they weren’t judging—they’d seen weirder things than a shaking kid talking to seemingly thin air.
The ghost frowned, the concern coming back as he stretched out a hand, resting it on her shoulder. “Hey, kid, you’re not looking so hot. Are ya okay?”
“I… I…” Dani started before it was swallowed by a noise torn between sob and scream, her knees wobbling as the feeling of her body burning and liquefying ripped through her, bile searing her throat as Dani bent over and vomited, the nausea still churning in her stomach as her body trembled from the pain. Dani’s eyes widened, panic tearing through her like the electricity had.
No, not now. Please not now.
The ghost’s eyes widened, realisation slamming into him as he hissed, “Shit. Today’s your death day, ain’t it? What are ya doin’ here, kid? Why aren’t ya with Phantom and the rest of your fraid?”
“I didn’t… I got the timing…” Dani answered, until pain tore apart her nerves and it was all she could do to keep from screaming, biting down on her tongue until she tasted the coppery-citrusy taste of her ectoplasm-infused blood.
If anything, her answer had the ghost more panicked. “Okay. Shit, okay. I’m gonna get ya some help, ‘kay? I’m gonna get ya somewhere safe. I promise I’ll get ya help. Just stay here, kid.”
Then he was gone, the apparition blinking away to find this help he promised Dani. A part of her wanted to listen and stay here in this alley, to wait for whatever help he could find, but another part knew she couldn’t stay, not when the pain was getting worse and she still hadn’t found somewhere safe.
But what was safe in Gotham?
(Danny was safe. He always made her feel safe, just like her brothers once had, that even when she was against him and was slowly dying Dani had known in her core she would always be safe with him, that he would protect and save her even from death itself, that she would always feel safe with Valerie and Jazz and Sam and Tucker, with all her fraid, but Danny was the one she felt safe with the most. That she would always feel safe and protected with her big brother.
(And he wasn’t here. None of them were.)
Dani made herself move, getting deeper into Crime Alley, losing herself in its twists and turns, pain a constant reminder, pumping through her bloodstream along with her ectoplasm. She stumbled over her own feet and her hand snapped out, grabbing a wall and for a moment it was smaller and covered in a black glove and edged with bubbling green ectoplasm, until before her horrified eyes her hand was ectoplasm, fingers and palm melting away, her hand gone as her arm joined it. She blinked and her hand was normal, covered in her usual fingerless gloves, solid and real, she wasn’t melting again, she was stable, she wasn’t about to become a liquified pool of ectoplasm for a second time, she wasn’t dying again.
But seeing that had panic spike through Dani and she ripped her hand away, her pace hurried now, looking around more frantically for a safe place and finding nothing. A voice whispered in her head about Lady Gotham’s offer, but Dani pushed it away, she still had time, she could find something, she wasn’t that desperate yet, come on Dani just keep moving and find something!
Her feet dragged on the ground, her legs so weak and shaky they could barely keep her upright, the tremors never leaving her as the burning, acidic pain swarmed Dani, sizzling in her blood and ectoplasm and squeezing her heart and core, her very soul. Visions of green flooded her vision and she didn’t know if it was just the memories of her limbs melting away or her eyes burning green, just keep moving Dani, keep going, you can rest when you find a safe place, just keep going.
Until Dani collapsed to her knees next to a dumpster in an alley, tight and filthy and way too open for her liking. Every part of her screamed to get up and get moving again, but Dani couldn’t, her body paralysed with pain and she knew that this was it, her death was coming for her, looming over her like a wave, and there was no ignoring or stopping it now, that it would crash down on her and she would be here, vulnerable to attack, Gotham’s vigilantes coming too late to her screams.
Dani curled into a tight ball, her body protesting as it exacerbated her pain, but she didn’t care, tears burning her eyes and streaking her face, the sweat hiding them as her body trembled and her core gave another distressed call for her fraid who wouldn’t hear it. She hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t wanted to curl up in an alley miles away from all the people she cared about, hadn’t wanted any of this.
She just wanted to be safe.
(She wanted her fraid, wanted Valerie and Tucker and Sam and Jazz, wanted cookies and movies and lessons in self-defence and pierced ears and dyed hair and video games. She wanted Danny, wanted him to hold her through the worst of the pain, to assure her that he was there, that he would always be there, to protect her even though Dani could usually fend for herself, to know that she would always be safe with Danny, could always count on him, she just wanted her brother.
She hadn’t wanted to be alone.
Dani squeezed her eyes shut, the pain of not being with her fraid, that she was alone and vulnerable, slicing her apart as the wave crested over her before it crashed into her with the full force of her death.
A moment of stillness, of no pain, then—
Dani screamed as the pain of a thousand volts of electricity tore through her dissolving body.
***
Jason was in the middle of patrol when he felt it.
He’d been mid-swing between rooftops when his body lurched and the Pit roared in his brain, knocking him off-kilter and making him nearly miss his landing. On instinct, Jason’s foot snapped out, catching the ledge as the grapple line went taut and he tumbled forward onto the roof, barely tucking into a roll to cushion the impact, but it was still a rough landing that he would be feeling tomorrow—but better bruises than falling to his second death. Jason laid there, dazed as the Pit snapped in him, waves of rage flooding his bloodstream, hazing his vision with green as something in his chest throbbed with anger, stifled and yet exacerbated by the Pit Rage, joining in its screams, and it didn’t help that Jason still felt off-kilter, that there was something wrong in Crime Alley, there was something dangerous in the Alley.
“What the fuck?” he muttered as he got to his feet, hand to his head, the Pit still snarling inside him, fury coiling tight around his bones and organs, that muffled other rage still pulsing, a cacophony of anger beating through Jason, shrieking at the wrongness in Crime Alley, at the danger, the intruder, that dared to enter what was his, and when he found them he was going to fucking tear them apart—
“Hood? Red Hood, are you there? Hood?”
Wrestling the Pit Rage back, Jason turned his comms on and replied, “Yeah. I’m here, ‘Wing.”
“Are you okay? O caught you almost missing the roof.”
“I’m fine. I misjudged the distance,” Jason lied, jaw clenched as the Pit hissed in his head, rage still burning in him, growing hotter with each second.
“Hood—”
”I’m fine, Dickhead,” Jason snapped, a growl edging his words, vision flaring green as the Pit snarled and howled, the quieter rage making itself heard, so much fury it almost made it hard to breathe
Fuck, he hadn’t had an episode like this since he first came back to life, since he first returned to Gotham and painted the streets red, when he was nothing but fury and vengeance.
Silence crackled over the comms as Jason forced himself to breathe, to strangle the Pit Rage and lock it up like he’d been doing every time he had a flare up before he spoke again in a tightly controlled voice. “Something came up in the Alley. I’m going to check it out.”
It wasn’t a lie—if there was a threat, an intruder, in Crime Alley, then Jason needed to know what it was, to let his guys know and get boots on the ground, to let everyone else know there was something dangerous in the Alley and keep eyes open and doors locked and hands on hidden weapons. He needed to find whoever or whatever it was that had entered his turf and get it to leave, to protect his community and everything he had built with blood and bullets, that it wasn’t welcome and would have a bullet between its eyes if it didn’t get out of the Alley.
”Okay. You need any backup or want one of us to carry out your patrol?” Dick offered.
“No, this is something I have to do on my own,” Jason shot down, biting back the snarl that this was his business and he didn’t want any of the other Bats in his territory—especially with the Pits as furious as they were right now, he didn’t trust himself to be around his family.
A crackle of static through the comms, then Dick sighed. “O and I will cover for you. Try not to do anything too reckless or kill anyone, Little Wing, okay?”
Jason smirked underneath the helmet. “No promises, Dickiebird.”
Another sigh full of big brotherly exasperation, then the comm line went silent. Jason’s smirk disappeared, the Pit raging louder as he straightened and headed toward the edge of the roof, ready to make his way to his main base of operations and let his men know what was going on, to let everyone know there was a dangerous force in Crime Alley, one that Jason was going to personally deal with, to get his Alley back in order and make sure it never came back.
He was about to fire the grapple gun when a scream split the night apart.
Jason froze, twisting toward the scream. Another scream joined it, as agonised as the first, piercing through Jason as the rage trembled under the force of the pure pain in those screams. It sounded like someone was being tortured.
It sounded like a kid.
That had something kick in Jason, resonating throughout his chest as he stood there, the kid’s screams ringing in his head—the screams of them being hurt, being fucking tortured—as his hand moved to one of his guns, the Pit still hissing about the intruder in his turf, but it was banked by those agonised screams and he could still hear them.
When a third scream sounded, Jason was already moving, pivoting towards the direction of the screams as he fired off his grappling gun, heading right to the screams, to the kid in trouble.
As Jason made his way across the rooftops and patchwork of tight streets and narrow alleys that made up Crime Alley, he soon realised how impossible it should have been for him to hear the screams from where he had been previously, and yet he had. But after his death and resurrection, Jason had noticed he hadn’t exactly come back without a few side effects—glowing eyes and the Pit Rage that refused to fade away aside, he’d noticed he was stronger and faster than he had been before, he healed quicker and he could take hits that should have left him benched for months without much damage and his reflexes were better, that he ran cold now, could move more silently than he could before and people had trouble noticing him sometimes despite that he was built like a fucking tank and that occasionally tech and lights would fritz out around him and cameras had trouble picking him up. Fuck, he hadn’t needed to install night vision in his helmet or mask since Jason realised he could fucking see in the dark now. Enhanced hearing just seemed to be another sign of how fucked up he was now after dying and being brought back to life in a bubbling green cesspool.
Right now, that didn’t matter. Not when there was a kid that needed help.
Landing on a roof with a tumbling roll and running toward the edge, Jason raised the grappling gun, but this time aimed the hook at the ledge as he grappled down the side of the building, something in him telling him he was close to the kid, pulling him toward where they were. He didn’t know how he knew the kid was close, only that they were—and given that they had stopped screaming, Jason was banking on that instinct being right.
The moment his boots met the ground, Jason grew tense, body taut like a wire, scanning the area around him for any sign of the kid or their attackers, prowling forward. His hand grazed one of his guns holstered at his thigh, ready to use and shoot some lead into the pieces of shit that wanted to torture a fucking kid, that thought they could do it and get away with it on his turf, to cross his line, and he fucking hoped he could shoot someone tonight, to make those assholes pay for what they had done.
A shiver ghosted the back of his neck and a prickle scratched his lungs as something shifted in the shadows to the left of him. Jason turned, sharp vision picking out a hunched over figure in a side alley, crouched near a dumpster. His hand lifted from the gun as he moved towards the shape, that instinct somehow telling him it was the kid.
As he got closer, Jason saw the kid was curled up in a tight ball, bangs with faded blue tips covering the kid’s face while the rest of their blue-streaked dark hair was in a messy ponytail, wearing a ratty blue hoodie and ripped jeans and worn sneakers, fingerless gloves covering their hands and multiple piercings in their ears, a beanie shoved firmly on top of their head. They were shaking, whimpers slipping out of their mouth, full of pain.
And they were alone, with no sign anyone else had been there.
Jason frowned, but decided to focus on the kid at the moment, crouching down in front of them as he softened his voice as much as he could with the modulator and asked, “Kid. Hey, can you hear me, kid?”
The kid twitched, head jerking up, before they screamed.
If the screams before had twisted something in Jason, hearing one up close and personal was a kick to his system, something buzzing in his chest as static and the Pit screeched in his ears. The kid’s bangs shifted to reveal icy blue eyes staring at him, wide and full of fear and pain, freckles standing out starkly on a pallid face, blood trickling from the kid’s nose, sweat slicking the kid’s forehead, as their—her—body trembled violently, the scream cutting off as a series of sharp gasps and pained whimpers replaced it, the kid clutching at her chest with one hand, a distressed noise escaping the kid though it didn’t seem like it had come from her mouth.
For one second, Jason swore the kid’s eyes burned an unnervingly familiar shade of toxic green before fading into glazed blue.
“Hey! Hey, kid, I’m here to help you. Can you understand me? Kid,” Jason said, grabbing the kid’s shoulder—except his hand seemed to slide through her shoulder as the kid’s already large eyes widened further and she scrambled back, pure panic and fear on her face.
“N-no, stay back! Stay back… No, please, don’t do it, please, it hurts, it hurts so much, I don’t want to di— please, make it stop, make it STOP!”
Tears streamed down the kid’s face as a noise between scream and sob clawed out of her throat, her body shuddering with the force of it and whatever pain she was feeling right now, that distressed noise vibrating louder from her.
Jason immediately backed away from the kid, trying not to spook her further. The kid who was obviously in pain, who would be a target to anyone looking for easy prey. The kid that had everything in Jason scream at him to grab and hold close, to answer her cry of distress, that he couldn’t leave her alone on the streets, that he shouldn’t leave her alone, not today. Not when he had made it clear that kids were off limits, and he’d be a fucking hypocrite if he couldn’t protect this kid when she needed it.
”Hey, kid, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to help you and take you somewhere safe, okay?” Jason assured as he took his helmet off—he knew it scared children, that it might have also been the cause for her reaction along with him getting too close to her. He rested it on the ground, still keeping his space from the kid. “Can you give me a nod that you’ll let me help you, kid?”
The kid’s eyes had squeezed shut, gasps of breath whistling from her mouth, but she gave a tiny nod.
”Okay. Kid, I’m going to move closer now, okay?” Jason warned, standing up. She didn’t nod or say anything, but didn’t move back from him either.
Taking that as a yes from the kid, Jason moved closer to the kid so now he was standing in front of her and told her, “I’m going to pick you up now, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you, but let me know if that’s okay.”
A jagged breath whistled out of the kid, but the distressed noise had quieted a fraction.
”I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Jason muttered as he crouched and reached for the kid before hesitating—what if the kid had injuries she was hiding underneath that hoodie? He didn’t want to worsen them or put her through more pain than she was already feeling.
Until the kid suddenly screamed, curling up into herself as the trembles wracking her body grew more violent, and Jason’s decision was made.
He scooped up the surprisingly light kid into his arms in a bridal carry, making sure he had a secure hold on the kid before he adjusted it so he could pick up his helmet. A closer look at the kid had Jason see she couldn’t be any older than Duke, that a kid the same age as his newest brother was on the streets and suffering from indescribable pain only she felt.
That she couldn’t be any older than Jason had been when he died.
Jason held the kid tighter at that, a surge of protectiveness flooding through him as she whimpered, twitching in his arms, face contorted. She didn’t look to be injured, so it was either in her head… or she had taken something.
That had the Pit rearing up again after it had grown silent since finding the kid, green rage bubbling in him as Jason bit back a growl at the thought of the kid being sold something that caused her so much pain it sounded like she was being fucking tortured, that she could have taken too much, that someone was selling whatever this shit was to kids when he had made it clear that kids were off-limits, that someone had the audacity to cross his line.
Whoever it was, they had better start fucking praying.
“Danny?”
The raspy croak of a voice snapped Jason out of the rage and his plans of brutality on the piece of shit who was dealing to kids and to counter whatever the hell this drug was hitting his streets as he looked at the kid, who was staring at him, blue eyes glazed over, new blood drying underneath her nose.
”Kid?” he said.
The kid blinked blearily at him before her arms latched around Jason’s neck, almost strangling him—fuck, the kid was strong.
”You’re here,” the kid rasped. “You’re really here. You… you found me. You’re here.”
Confusion pulsed through Jason, but he ignored it as he assured, “Don’t worry, kid. I’m bringing you somewhere safe. I’ve got you, kid. I got you.”
The kid smiled, open trust on her face as she whispered, “Always safe with you, Danny. Always safe with… with my big brother.”
Then the smile disappeared as the kid’s face screwed up with pain and an agonised sound wrenched out of the kid’s mouth, her body giving a violent shudder. She buried her face against his chest, wheezing and gasping with jagged breaths, body still trembling.
That reaction had Jason hold the kid more securely and push away his confusion about the kid’s brother and where the fuck he was, to focus on the kid in his arms as he murmured, “Hold on, kid. I’m going to make sure you’re safe, and I will help you. I promise. Just hold on.”
The kid didn’t say anything, only let out more of those pained whimpers, not relinquishing her grip on him. Jason took that as a cue to get moving as he readjusted his own grip on the kid so he could put his helmet back on and walked toward the mouth of the alley, intending to head to his main safe house, where the kid could be safe at as she got through whatever was wreaking havoc on her body and he could help her survive the night. As he did, Jason pressed a button on his helmet, activating his bike’s autopilot and its GPS as it drove to his current location. He could have grappled to the safe house, but he couldn’t do that and keep hold of the kid at the same time. At least the autopilot on his motorcycle could ensure he didn’t need to worry about dropping the kid on the way to his safe house.
As he walked up to the alley’s mouth, Jason pulled his burner phone he used to contact his men out of a hidden pocket in his jacket and dialled the number of his top man, checking to make sure the kid hadn’t gotten worse as his call was answered.
”Heya boss. Whad’ya want?””
”Phil,” Jason said, his voice a growl, the robotic modulator adding a touch of static. “I need you to contact every single dealer on my payroll. I want their addresses, their suppliers, their fucking names. Someone’s been dealing to kids, and I want to know who that fucker is that thought they could get away with it now.”
”em>On it, boss,” Phil replied, voice serious—he knew how seriously Jason took with his one rule, the repercussions that happened when you broke it, as he heard his top man mutter, “That fucker better start runnin’ now with the boss on the warpath.”
That had a smirk twitch on Jason’s face, before it disappeared as he continued, “I also want you to contact Jones and Max, and make a call to Lottie while you’re at it. There’s something here in the Alley, and I want boots on the ground to find it, make sure our people know what’s going on and keep their doors locked and weapons handy. When you do find it, let me know. I’ll handle it.”
”em>On it, boss. I’ll make the calls,” Phil affirmed. A rustle of paper, then, “Ya want me to let Jason know ‘bout this too?”
”No. Only contact the people I mentioned. If he’s smart, he’d know about it already,” Jason shot down, holding back another smirk.
”A’ight, boss.”
The call disconnected and Jason walked out of the alley. Most of the time, it was a bad idea to stroll about in Crime Alley, but Jason was the Red Hood, and he had grown up in these streets, knew every inch of them like the lines in his palms, like the scars on his body. He was the Alley and the Alley was his, and while he wasn’t killing anyone anymore—well, most of the time, and only the ones who truly deserved it—the lowlifes knew when the Red Hood was prowling about, that it was better to stay out of his way than to get into it, especially when he was seething with barely contained anger like he was right now.
He was banking on that, on his reputation, as he now stood in the mouth of the alley and waited for his motorbike, right as the kid cried out in pain, her grip tightening around his neck, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty and wan face, body convulsing, breaths coming out short and sharp, the distressed noise returning and much louder. Jason held the kid closer to him as she buried her face in his chest, half-strangled sobs slipping out, tangled with slurred words and pleas and “Danny”, her brother’s name repeated over and over before it was cut off as she let out a stifled scream.
Whatever shit the kid had taken, it was serious, and doing a lot of damage. Jason’s anger burned hotter, the Pit seething in his veins, all but drowning his brain in fury. The only thing keeping him from tracking down and obliterating the worthless piece of shit that was selling drugs to kids was the one in his arms, that he needed to keep safe and help, something in him whispering sameechoprotectkeepsafeprotectprotectPROTECT, that he was going to damn make sure the kid didn’t slip away during the night.
Something chilled the air behind him as a prickle scraped Jason’s throat and lungs, a shiver grazing his neck like the bony hands of the Reaper.
Jason tensed, instincts on high alert as the shadows seemed to shift and twist and the cold grew deeper, more tangible, a presence filling the alley, watching him and the kid.
That left Jason more on edge, something deep in his gut telling him that wasn’t attention he wanted on him, like a predator watching him as if he were prey. On the vulnerable kid in his arms.
Something moved behind him, a brush of cold, voices whispering in the air, near-silent and full of echoing static. Jason turned his head slightly, peripheral vision picking out three half-burred, hazy forms in the shadows, the tallest more shadow than corporeal body, and he could have sworn he saw a flash of a white cape, staff and top hat, that if he kept listening Jason could make out words in the static...
The roar of a motorcycle engine silenced the static as his bike sped into sight and automatically stopped in front of him, dragging Jason’s attention away from whatever was lurking in the alley behind him and refocusing his attention on the kid in his arms.
Jason swung onto the bike, placing the kid into a seated, upright position while not letting go of her, making sure she was as secure as possible. As he did, Jason looked down the alley, but the hazy forms had disappeared, the chill leaving the air as the shadows seemed to still, that presence leaving, but Jason could almost tell that it was amused—just like he almost thought he’d seen a Rogue that hadn’t been active since Dick was Robin.
Jason turned away from the alley. That was something he could handle later. Right now, he had to focus on the kid.
One hand on the handlebars and the other still looped around the kid, Jason’s bike sped to his main safe house, eating up the distance with a blistering roar of sound and speed, muffling the kid’s cries and whimpers though he still felt the kid tremble against him. Jason held her tighter, trying to assure through the hold that she was going to be okay, that they were almost at his safe house, that he would keep her safe.
Especially since she only seemed to be getting worse.
When he finally arrived at his safe house, Jason barely remembered to park his bike and all but jumped off the bike, still holding the kid with one arm as he hurried into the dingy apartment building and up the stairs to his apartment flat, barely remembering to check to make sure no one had followed him, especially the paranoid bastards that were the Bats, or to set off the defences before he unlocked the multiple locks on his door and entered his safe house.
Inside, Jason made a beeline to the couch and put the kid down before he grabbed the medical kit out from the closet in his hallway. The med kit which had all the supplies and antidotes inside to help reverse the effects of substances when he or one of his siblings got injected with a drug or exposed to Fear Toxin or some other form of chemical weapon while on the job, that would give the kid a fighting chance, because while the symptoms she showed could be the symptoms of the drug she took, they could also be symptoms she was overdosing, especially since she just kept getting worse, and Jason wasn’t taking any chances if she was, he was going to help the kid and make sure she survived the night—until the kid screamed, pure agony ripping through the cry.
Jason rushed to the kid’s side, dropping the med kit by his feet. The kid was writhing on the couch as glowing green, rippling marks appeared on her face and forearms, looking almost like a mix between acid and burn marks, covering every inch of her bare skin, noises of distress vibrating off of her, tears pouring down her face and the kid was still screaming.
“KID!” Jason yelled, grabbing the kid’s shoulders as she thrashed under him, her skin burning cold through his gloves and her hoodie. “Hey, kid, stay awake! Fuck, if you can hear me, just try and stay awake and stay with me, okay? Just stay with me, kid! Kid!”
If the kid heard him, she didn’t give any sign, still convulsing wildly under Jason’s grip as those marks on her glowed brighter. Something in Jason’s chest lurched at seeing the burn marks glowing as green as the Lazarus Pits as he tried to keep the kid’s attention on him, tried to make sure she stayed awake as she screamed and screamed. Tried to ignore how this felt like the last time he saw his mother, eyes blank and a needle dropped from a limp hand and how he’d fruitlessly tried to wake her up then.
Tried to ignore how her scream… that scream…
It sounded exactly like the scream Jason let out in that warehouse, when all his bones had been broken, when he watched the timer slowly tick down to zero, when he realised Bruce would be too late, when he realised he wouldn’t get to see sixteen, when the warehouse had exploded.
It sounded like the same scream Jason had made before he died.
Jason wrestled the memories, the echoes of pain and fear, back. This wasn’t like what happened with Catherine, this wasn’t like what happened to him. He could help this kid, could save her before it was too late. Jason wouldn’t let this kid slip away.
He wouldn’t let her die like he had.
The kid’s glazed-over eyes slid to him as her screams ended, raw terror on her face as she reached a trembling hand out, rasping, “D… Danny, hel—“
The words were cut off by a strangled noise of pain as the kid’s body gave a violent shake, distress emanating from her.
Still holding the kid, Jason squeezed her shoulders gently as he assured, “I will, kid. I promised I would help you. And I’m not gonna let you die, kid. I’m gonna give you something that will get you through this. Just stay awake, okay kid? Just try and stay awake.”
The kid didn’t say anything, sharp breaths escaping her mouth as her body shuddered. Jason turned her on her side, making sure her airways were clear before he let the kid go and opened up the med kit, grabbing the vial of naxolene and a syringe needle out. When he had filled the syringe up, Jason turned back to the kid and jabbed the needle into her arm, injecting the naxolene into her system, that it would now give the kid a fighting chance, the kid wasn’t going to die tonight, not if Jason could help it, she wasn’t fucking dying.
He had just pulled the needle out of her arm when a tortured scream split Jason’s head.
Jason hurriedly put the needle down as the kid’s face contorted and her body locked up, the scream long and drawn out and he could have sworn he saw bands of green in the scream, until it petered off in favour of stilted gasps as the kid’s convulsions eased. Jason held the kid’s shoulder again, his grip gentle but firm.
“Hey. Hey, you still with me, kid?” Jason questioned, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
The kid didn’t say anything, a pained noise escaping her as her body gave one final shudder and those green marks faded away like they never existed. Her breathing was still sharp and stilted as her body relaxed a fraction, eyes fluttering closed.
”Kid?” Jason tried again, giving her shoulder another squeeze. “Kid, come on, wake up.”
The kid didn’t reply, just kept breathing those jagged breaths until they slowly evened into a natural rhythm. Her body seemed to melt into the couch, losing all of the tension from earlier and her face slackened, eyes remaining closed, like she had fallen asleep.
That didn’t assure Jason as he shook the kid’s shoulder. “Hey! Hey, kid, you have to wake up! You have to stay awake!”
The kid shifted under his hold as her eyes half-opened, still glazed over but holding a fraction more lucidity as she turned away from him, grumbling, “Danny, ‘m fine. Not my… my first time. Lemme get some sleep, you worrywart…”
Her eyes slipped close, but Jason shook her shoulder again to wake her up. “Afraid not, kid. C’mon, just humour me and stay awake for a few minutes.”
The kid whined but opened her eyes, turning to face him. “Fine, worrywart. But ‘m fine.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jason said dryly. He frowned as he gave the kid a concerned look. “How are you feeling right now, kid?”
Despite being half-asleep and still out of it, the kid rolled her eyes. “Still feelin’ terrible, but not dyin’ either.”
”Not dying’s always a good sign,” Jason snarked, used from hearing similar things from his siblings, from him saying things like that. The sarcasm softened as he questioned, “You sure you’re really okay, kid?”
Something in the kid’s expression softened, too. “‘M fine. Honest. Hurts a little still but ‘m okay. Survived ‘nother one.”
Silence filled the room as Jason processed what the kid had said, as she slumped against the couch and asked, “Can I sleep now? ‘M okay, really. Just need to… sleep it off.”
Jason gave her a sharp look, but the kid was pouting and looked seconds from falling asleep, her airways sounded clear and he’d given her the naxolene, and with what she said she seemed to trust she would wake up again after sleeping off whatever was in her system. If he kept a watch over her, then she should be fine getting some sleep for a few minutes.
“Yeah, kid. You had a rough night. Get some sleep,” Jason murmured, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
Almost instantly the kid’s eyes closed and her body relaxed, slumping into the couch. In seconds, the kid was asleep, almost astounding Jason how she had just fallen asleep so quickly like that, when moments ago it looked like she was going to die.
But instead, she was alive.
Still, Jason pressed his fingers against her neck to check for her pulse, just to make sure. His shoulders loosened a fraction as he felt the rapid beating and he dropped his hand away from her neck, a relieved breath escaping him.
He hadn’t lost the kid. She was still alive. Somehow, she had gotten through the worst of whatever she took and was now sleeping it off, the naxolene working through her system to counter it. And it sounded like this wasn’t the first time she went through this, that she had survived this before—that the kid sounded nearly as stubborn as him and his family.
But she was alive, and Jason would make sure she would stay alive.
Jason set the med kit aside and stood up, putting the used needle into the trash and going to the closet in the hallway and grabbing a blanket out, returning to the couch and gently putting it on the kid. The kid’s brow wrinkled and she let out a sharp noise, curling into herself under the blanket before she relaxed, a faint tremor shaking through her. Jason listened for any snoring or gurgling, but aside from that noise, the kid’s breathing was even and slow with sleep. She was still fine. Still alive.
Now that he was looking at the kid in the aftermath of what had happened, Jason knew that without a shadow of a doubt he had made the right call in bringing the kid to his safe house. Whatever she had taken, it was some serious shit. If she had gone through that while still on the streets…
Jason didn’t even want to know what would have happened if he hadn’t found the kid in time. If he hadn’t heard her screams.
Buzzing sounded in the silent apartment and Jason pulled out his phones—one his phone he used with his family, the group chat going insane, the second his burner phone, Phil’s number lighting up the screen. Jason answered his burner, ignoring the group chat as he growled, “Tell me you found that piece of scum.”
”em>Yeah, uh, that may be a bit of a problem, boss.”
”How is it a problem?” Jason demanded, a snarl edging his voice.
“I talked to all the dealers on your payroll—none of ‘em have been dealin’ to kids. All swore till they were blue in the face they were keepin’ to your rules, boss.”
Jason ground his teeth. Great. That was just what he fucking needed. “One of them is lying. Keep at it. Put the pressure on them if they keep refusing to admit to anything.”
“A’ight, boss,” Phil affirmed. He paused, before he continued, “No one’s found any sign of a threat or anythin’ up in the Alley either, but everyone’s on the alert. Should we call it off and say it was a false alarm?”
Jason wanted to say no, it wasn’t a false alarm—even now, Jason could feel that wrongness, that threat in his turf, that it hadn’t left. He wanted nothing more than to find it and make it go. But there was the kid on his couch, and if it had gone to ground and wasn’t directly threatening Crime Alley and his people…
“Call it off for now, but keep an ear out for it. Focus on getting that information out of the dealers,” Jason ordered. He paused, then added, “And question them if a new drug has been hitting the streets or they’ve been dealing anything new recently.”
”What kind of drug we lookin’ at, boss?”
”Don’t know what kind or its name yet, but side effects include hallucinations of pain that feel severe enough to scream, body convulsions and green marks on the skin in the shape of burn and acid scars,” Jason listed off. He looked again at the kid, now sleeping peacefully and showing no sign of what she’d been through. “I saw one of the victims tonight. It’s looking to be some strong shit, and I’m not letting it run rampant in the Alley.”
”em>Understood, boss,” Phil said, voice as serious as the grave. “I’ll let the rest of the boys know. Night, boss”
The phone clicked off.
Jason put the burner phone down onto the coffee table, taking off his helmet. He ran a hand down his face as he tilted his head back, a scowl twisting his face. He knew some of the dealers would have clammed up about being caught selling to kids, but he hadn’t expected all of them to keep their mouths shut, even though he should have. Coupled with this new drug that he had no idea had hit the streets until he stumbled onto one of its victims that who knows how many had taken it or died from it while he hadn’t known about it, the damage it could cause if it continued to run rampant, and the danger he knew was still lurking about in Crime Alley, and all the questions he had for the kid about who the fuck sold her this drug, how many times had that fucker sold it to her that she was confident she could sleep off even a potential overdose, and what the hell it was after he was certain she was going to be okay…
But that could wait for tomorrow. The kid needed sleep, and while he’d saved the kid’s life with the naxolene and she seemed fine after it was over, Jason was still keeping an eye on her. In case something happened to her while she asleep.
But first, he needed a fucking shower.
Taking a quick shower and changing out of his suit into more comfortable clothes while still keeping the domino mask on, Jason headed back into the living room and sat in the armchair, getting to work on cleaning his guns and putting them away in the hidden compartment in his wall along with his helmet and suit, before he answered the group chat with a quick message that he was fine and didn’t need a welfare check and then muted the group chat. After, he periodically checked on the kid, trying to wake her up twice and gaining a grumble and glare for his troubles before he decided to let her be and instead read the book he’d started on before going on patrol as the kid shifted and mumbled occasionally in her sleep, her breathing even and regular, the med kit at his side and phone ready for him to dial Leslie Thompkins’ number if he needed to bring the kid to her.
Just in case.
Until, at some point between midnight and dawn, Jason fell asleep, the last thing he remembered being the kid’s sleeping, pain-free face, and a quiet, peaceful humming, coming vaguely from the couch and the kid curled up on it.
(And not noticing as something in his chest tried to respond back like it had been trying to ever since finding the kid before it was silenced.)