Chapter Text
When Peter awoke, he felt strange. His body felt light and tingly, like he was floating on a cloud and made of static. Not to mention his head. It was so light, his thoughts so far away and hard to grasp, like grabbing onto mist.
It took a while to realize that his eyes were open. White walls and light grey ceilings greeted him, along with the beeping of a machine. Peter let out a long groan, eyes rolling lazily to the side. There, he spotted his phone. His arm moved sluggishly and awkwardly, causing him to knock his knuckles against the table before he could grab his phone.
“Hello?” Jason says. He blinks in surprise. He didn’t remember calling anyone yet. “Peter, what’s up?”
“Jason…” He whined. “M’ head’s all foggy, an’ I think I’m made of rocks.”
“Oh, yeah, I got them to get you on that good shit.” Jason laughed. “Shit, that won’t be burnt up by your metabolism so quickly.”
“Oh…” Peter mumbled. “I haven’t been able t’ use painkillers in…” He loses his thought. “I’m hungry.” He whined.
“Call Alfred, he’ll bring you everything you want.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at the apartment, getting your shit.”
“Oh… Why? Are you kicking me out?”
“What? No.”
“When I was in foster care, my uh… ‘foster mom’ threatened to abandon me in this wheat field near the house if I forgot my chores or left somethin’ somewhere or uh…” His thoughts drift away. “I like our apartment. Do I have to go?”
“No, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Jason’s voice was deliberately steady. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Whoa, how’d you know?” Peter asked, in awe that he knew that Peter was hungry without Peter telling him!
Jason let out a breath. Was it a sigh? Was it a laugh? Peter couldn’t tell. “Just call Alfred.”
“How do I do that?”
“You see that big blue button on the table?”
Peter’s head rolls. There was indeed a remote with a big blue button. “Whoa, how’d you know that was there?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re absolutely zooted.” Jason sighed affectionately. “Just hit the button, ask for food, and tell Alfred to lower your dose just a bit while he’s at it. I’m kind of scared you’re gonna OD.”
“I can’t OD on anything, my metabolism is too high.”
“... Right. So, hit the button, ask for food, and tell him to take you down a few milligrams."
“Mkay. Love you, Jason.” Peter said. He heard a choking noise on the other line. “You’re like… It’s like someone went into my head and took what I imagined the bestest older brother to be, and then BOOP! Made you.”
“Um… Yeah, I don’t know how to respond to that, so, uh…”
“Sorry, respond to what?”
“Have- Have you hit the button yet?”
“Oh, right.”
He reaches over sluggishly, missing the button twice before he hits it and watches the button blink. Peter groaned as his stomach rumbled angrily. “My stomach hurts…”
“Like… From hunger?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, tell Alfred.”
“Where is Alfred?”
“Oh my god, I feel my will to live draining.” Jason groaned unseriously.
“No, that’s not-”
“Master Peter.” A voice said.
He looked over. “Alfred! Hey, uh, I’m sorry to uh… But, uh, ‘m so hungry I’m gonna eat my own hand.”
“How about some rigatoni instead, sir?”
“Oh my god, I love rigatoni,” Peter said.
“Tell him to lower your dose a bit.”
“Jason says to lower my dose a bit.” Peter nearly dropped his phone on his face trying to move it to a better position. “M’ head is full of cotton balls. I dunno if I like how the painkillers…” His thoughts drift away. “Have you ever thought about, like, how… It’s so cool that seeds know to… grow?”
Alfred stared at him for a moment. “I see now why Master Jason is concerned about your dosage.” He moves over to the IV that Peter hadn’t realized was in his arm. “Let's get that sorted out before you eat, yes?”
“Mkay,” Peter said.
“Pete, I gotta go. Eat good and then sleep, ok? You need more rest.”
“Alright, bye, Jason. Goodnigh’.”
“Night.”
He drops the phone next to his head, groaning a little. Peter rests his hand over his stomach. “I like Jason. Do you like ‘im?”
“Yes, indeed. Master Jason has grown into a fine young man despite how he’d protest that sentiment.” Alfred said.
“He reminds me of m’ friends back home… Wade an’ Matt… an’ Tony,” Peter mumbled. “Wade, he… he pretends like he doesn’t care ‘bout anything, but when his friends are in trouble, he’ll gladly give his life for ‘em. Matt, he’s-... they’re pretty different in a lot of ways, but Jason and Matt both really, REALLY care about right and wrong. And Tony and Jason…” He trails off. Peter’s mind drifts to Tony. “Tony is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father. Cares too much ‘bout me…”
“All lovely traits to have and a great observation you’ve made.” Peter hummed vaguely. Alfred steps away from the IV. “You should start feeling better soon, sir. More clear-headed.”
Click.
“I’m fine, I’m not even that ‘zooted’.” Then, Peter laughs. “That’s such a funny word. Zooooot-ed. Hehe…” Then he grunts. “Ugh… My stomach hurts.”
“Probably from hunger, which has an easy solution,” Alfred said. “I’ll get your food, sir.”
“Mkay. Thank you.”
He watched Alfred leave the room. By the time Alfred came back with food, his head was a little clearer. Just a bit, though. He was sober enough to finally wonder where he was. The Batcave is what Alfred called it. That information was enough to pacify him.
He shoveled food down his throat at an alarming rate, then promptly passed out before he could do any more embarrassing things.
-
Jason felt like he had spent a significant portion of his life crying. When he was a kid, the older boys would bully him for being a crybaby. Getting scolded by a teacher, losing something, tripping or otherwise getting mildly hurt, basically any mild inconvenience would make him burst into tears. And they were pretty ruthless in their teasing.
When Mom died, he just… stopped. Not crying, no. He’d spend nights lying on the couch or on the bathroom floor, sobbing until his eyes were red and puffy. But he stopped caring about shit like that. Even his rudest and most irrational teachers couldn’t shake him. Even his most violent tormentors couldn’t bring him to tears. At least, not in the middle of the altercation. He wished he could say it was some kind of badass thing; some kind of promise to never let anyone see him cry again, but no. It wasn’t a conscious choice. He figured it was because something inside him was broken. Wrong.
Now, when he was alone and let his mind wander, he found himself crying more than he’d like to admit. He never broke down in front of other people, and he’d fucking gut anyone who caught him sobbing, but he had to admit to himself that he cried a lot more than the average crime lord. Probably. When the memories of the warehouse got to be too much, when he couldn’t sleep for days at a time because the nightmares were too bad, and when he found himself worrying about what people really think about him.
But this might be the first time he could ever remember crying because he was happy.
Honestly, he thought that was something Hollywood made up for tearful kissing scenes and other soppy shit. And yet here he was, on the floor of the living room, hiding his face in his hands, sobbing like a baby. All because Peter and Alfred had said some nice things. Just a few inconsequential words.
“Master Jason has grown into a fine young man.”
“I like Jason. Do you like Jason?”
“All lovely traits to have.”
“Love you, Jason.”
Peter said Jason reminded him of his friends. Said he was loyal, very conscious of morality, and compassionate. The closest thing he had to a father. Alfred hadn’t argued; maybe he even subtly agreed.
“He pretends like he doesn’t care about anything, but when his friends are in trouble, he’ll gladly give his life for ‘em.”
Jason sniffled, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He should feel embarrassed. And he would if anyone caught him. But right now? In the safety of his apartment?
He allowed himself to cry from joy. Just this once.
-
When Peter woke up again, he felt immensely better. He sits up, feeling his muscles scream in protest. Then, he looked around. There were twelve beds, but only two were full; his and…
“Damian?” He said.
Peter slides to the edge of the bed, feeling the ache from his stomach muscles wail. Then, he slowly stepped down onto the cold floor. His legs didn’t like that, but he easily ignored it. Dragging his IV with him, he made his way to Damian’s bed.
“Hey. Damian?” He set his hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy didn’t react in the slightest. Peter’s face wrinkled up. “Damian, hey, wa-”
“He’s medically sedated.” A voice said.
He whirls around and promptly loses his balance, falling into the bedside table. Clinging to it like a baby deer on ice, he looked up. Stephanie stood there, half in her Spoiler costume.
“Steph!” Peter said. He crossed the room surprisingly fast and hugged her. She hugged him back, patting between his shoulders. “Oh my god, it feels like I haven’t seen you in years.”
“Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people.” She laughed. She pulled away, eyes assessing him. “You need a shower.”
“Ouch.”
“Come on, let’s get you clean.” She lightly dragged him towards the door.
“Wait, how am I gonna shower with an IV in my arm?”
“Oh, right. I’ll pull it out, just sit down.”
Peter obeys. He sits on the bed, watching Steph walk around the room. His eyes slid over to Damian.
“Why is he sedated?”
“Boy Genius over there was told to stay in bed and pretty much immediately tried to sneak out. He got dizzy, you know, since he’s missing, like, 35% of his blood, and fell down the stairs. Bruce wasn’t having that, so…” She trails off.
Peter sighed. He understood why Bruce decided to put Damian in a medical coma. But really, Peter probably would’ve done the same thing himself.
Steph comes over. He held out her hand to her, and she gently took his wrist. She peels the bandage from his wrist and pulls out the IV. Immediately, Steph swipes a cotton ball covered in antiseptic across the tiny spot of blood and then puts a bandage over it. Peter cringed, running his finger over the bandage.
“Ready to go?”
“Yup.” He stood to follow her. “I don’t have any clothes.”
“Jason brought your stuff over. I’ll bring it to you when you’re showering.”
“Mkay, thank you.”
Steph led him through the dark hallway and into a big room with an even bigger computer. He paused, staring at the massive device for a moment before he had to hurry after the girl. There would be time to mess around with that later.
They head to a room labeled ‘Decontamination Showers’. The showers were actually pretty nice. It was a large room with benches and lockers, then six doors that led to individual showers.
“Here we are. Technically, these should only be used if you’re covered in chemicals or sickness or something like that, but I don’t care about what you’re technically supposed to do.”
“Fair enough,” Peter said.
He made his way to the first door and pulled it open. It was a small room with a slightly sloped floor, a drain in the middle, and a showerhead. Peter stepped in and turned around, watching Stephanie leave the room.
It was nice to get clean. Someone had clearly made an effort to clear some of the dust and debris from his body, but that didn’t stop the first few waves of water rolling off him from being muddy-looking. Peter had to sit down after a minute or two because his legs were wobbling, and he really didn’t want to face-plant while his body felt so achy. Scrubbing shampoo into his hair and covering his body in slightly floral-smelling soap, he let his mind drift.
“Hey.” Steph knocks on the door. Peter jolts. “I got clothes for you here.”
“Thank you!”
There was a noise at the door. Steph opened up the compartment on her side to put the clothes in, then he opened it on his side to get them. That was incredibly cool and very efficient.
Once he is cleaned and dressed, he steps out into the locker room. Stephanie was sitting on her phone, but she looked up at him when he walked out. Her eyes scan him for a moment before she nods decisively.
“Better.”
“Thanks.” He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“You’re welcome.” She grabs his arm. “Come on. I want to show you around the mansion before the pain meds wear off.”
“They’re already starting to.”
“Then we should hurry.”
The mansion upstairs was lovely. It was a lot more opulent, more… historic? Like something you’d see in a historical recreation of the manor of a French aristocrat. But also not so opulent that it was tacky or impractical. In fact, it felt rather homely.
As Stephanie showed him the kitchen, the bathrooms, the bedrooms, the study, all of that, he started to feel worse and worse. His legs began to wobble, began to ache. His whole body started screaming in agony, but he didn’t say anything.
“And that’s about it,” Steph said. “You’ll probably need a guide for the first couple of weeks, and even then, you might continue getting lost.”
“Yeah, I bet.” His voice wobbles a little.
Stephanie tips her head to look at him. “Are you comfortable in the Batcave? I could just as easily get you set up in a room up here.”
“Uh, I wouldn’t want Damian waking up alone.” He shrugged, instantly regretting it. He winces, raising a hand to rub his shoulder. “Wait, why was Damian down there with me? I assume he has a room up here.”
The girl shrugs. “Said he wanted to be down there.” She says. “If I had to guess, he didn’t want you waking up alone. But don’t bother asking, he’d deny it.”
“I really don’t think Damian is that sentimental…”
“You’d be surprised.” She said. “So… Downstairs?”
“Yup.”
The girl takes him to an elevator. At some point, she grew close enough to take his weight. It happened subtly, at first with her just walking closer and closer, and then he somehow ended up pressed against her to keep himself from face-planting.
She takes them to an elevator and then back through the hidden door to the cave. Peter nearly cries in relief when he is able to lie down. He sat there for a moment, face pressed into the bed.
“I know you’re not going to like this, Pete, but there’s really only one way to give you an IV.”
It took a second for Stephanie’s words to catch up to him. Immediately, dread flooded his common sense. He turned over, his wide-eyed fear matching her awkward sympathy.
“You’re not going to throw me across the room or anything, right?” Stephanie asked. Peter shook his head stiffly. “Ok, if you’re sure.”
Holding out his arm and letting her clean the area with an alcohol wipe was already almost too much. Every sense in his body was screaming that he shouldn’t let this hand, that he should, in fact, throw Steph across the room and make a break for the door. But a larger part of his mind urged him to be careful and to hold still. He was painfully aware that he could very easily snap Stephanie’s wrist if he wanted to, and he profoundly did not want to. The fear he would hurt her was rivaling his sudden trypanophobia.
“I don’t know where it came from.” He said, very quickly.
“Where wha-?’”
“This- This fear. I mean, I-I never liked needles before, but now it’s-” He forced himself to look away, body so tensed up.
“You mean you don’t know why y-”
“No, no, I- I mean, I don’t think I remember, but I don’t know anymore. I just don’t remember or- or I don’t think I do. Everything’s so- Everything- I don’t know if-” His words completely falter when the needle breaks through his skin and veins. And just like that, it’s over. Stephanie tapes it down and steps away from him so he has breathing room. “Oh, thank god.” He falls back against the bed, covering his face with his hands. “Keep getting these flashes of memory, but I don’t even know if they’re real. Feels pretty real, but I don’t… They’re too surreal, too unbelievable.”
“Oh.” She says, as if she wanted to say more, but didn’t. “Um, you’ll start to feel better soon. Plenty of time for whatever the hell this is later.”
“Would you stay down here with me for a bit? Maybe we could watch a movie or something.”
“Yeah, of course, I’ll go get my laptop.”
“Cool. Oh, and I’m sorry in advance if I start saying embarrassing things again.”
“Don’t worry, I promise to only laugh an appropriate amount.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Thank you. So generous.”
“I get that a lot.” She said impishly. “Now, don’t move, I’ll be back.”
“You say that like I have somewhere to be.” He called, watching her leave.
It wasn’t long before Steph returned. He curled up on his side to watch the movie on Stephanie’s laptop. Miraculously, he fell asleep before he could do anything too embarrassing, although he did have a big, awed, drug-hazed reaction to Tiana getting transformed into a frog (as if he hadn’t seen it a hundred times).
-
When he woke up next, he felt a lot better. He could tell that most of the damage had healed because the prickling feeling in his blood simmered down to a very faint hum. So he rolled over and grabbed the leg of his pants, pulling it up. The burns on his legs were almost entirely gone, leaving only faint pink patches.
He stood up from his bed, pulling the IV along with him. Peter stopped near Damian’s bed. The other’s face was wrinkled in fear, his hands were twitching, and his breathing was unsteady, bordering on whimpers with some exhales.
Peter spotted a stuffed animal nearby, a little stuffed elephant that looked like it had rolled away. He grabbed it, tucking it into Damian’s arms and pulling the blanket higher over him. By some blessing, he watched the tension ease away from Damian’s body, and his breathing became steady and deep once again.
With that done, he continued on his way. Out in the hallway, he could hear quiet chatter. Peter turned towards it and made his way to the room.
In that big room with the crazy computer, he saw Tim sitting at the desk with a cup of coffee in his hands. He was stirring the coffee seemingly absentmindedly as he stared blankly at the files displayed on the screen. In a smaller window, a video was playing on loop.
“That’s a lot of words.” He said. Tim looks over.
A tired laugh leaves his mouth. “Yeah. Lots and lots, but none solve my problem.”
“What problem would that be?” Peter asked, moving closer. “Maybe I could help.”
Tim was quiet for a long time, then he clicked a few buttons, and the files and video went away. “You’re still recovering.”
“But, I-“
“Peter.” Tim sounded stressed. He sighs, rubs his eyes, then clasps his hands in his lap. “I will ask for your help when you’re fully recovered. Really, I don’t think there is anyone better suited than you and me, but not now.”
“I am fully recovered!” Peter said. “Look.” He pulled up his pant leg again to show off the healed burns. “See? All good.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” Peter stares at him blankly, truly not understanding. Tim huffs. “Dude… When was the last time you had a break?”
“Uh, Monday,” Peter said. Tim raises an eyebrow incredulously. “I didn’t patrol that day.” He said defensively.
“No, but you went to school and then worked at the library until closing,” Tim said. “Last I checked, school and work don’t count as a break.” Peter opened his mouth. “A day without any other stressors. Including poverty, villains, being held captive, or being in the hospital or otherwise too injured or sick to stand.”
“Oh. Then… Years. I guess.” He genuinely had to think about that. When was the last time he felt completely relaxed? “But how long do I need to take a break?”
“A few days at least.”
“A few days?!” He shouts.
“That is not a lot of time. Go play Minecraft or something for once.”
“I’m gonna go insane.”
“I doubt that.”
Peter sighed. He really hadn’t gotten a break in years. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he just relaxed for a day or two. The only issue was that he wasn’t entirely sure how to do that.
“Hey, Pete,” Duke called. The other boy came over, a big grin on his face. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling better, but Tim is still saying I gotta rest.”
“Dude, you were almost crushed to death by a building.”
“Not for the first time.” Peter shrugged. “I’m just glad that we got out of there. I only wish I could have helped more-”
“I don’t think working yourself up into a guilt spiral counts as relaxing,” Duke said. Peter huffed a laugh. “You did what you could; we all did. And before you ask, the relief effort is going surprisingly well. We even have government funding now.” He hummed in acknowledgement.
“So… How am I supposed to…?”
Duke laughed. “Come on.” He took Peter’s arm. “Let’s play video games. Have you ever played Hollow Knight?”
“Uh, no. What’s it about?”
“Ooo, I think you’re really gonna like it!”
He was swiftly scooped up (metaphorically) and shuffled into Duke’s room. He had a pretty nice room. It was bigger than any bedroom Peter had ever had, and it smelled nice, like fresh laundry and some ocean-themed air freshener. There was a small couch and a wall-mounted TV with a cabinet underneath full of video games, movies, and board games.
Peter sat down, squirming a bit when he was nearly sucked into the plush seat, and watched Duke get the game set up. He was handed the controller as Duke sat down. He grabbed his blanket from the corner of his bed and threw it over both of their laps.
“So, what's this about?” Peter asked.
“A bug guy exploring his bug-kingdom.”
“Oh, I see how it is.” He said, playful fire in his voice. “Get the bug guy to play a bug game.”
“Well, if 1 + 1 = 2…” Duke said. Peter scoffed in mock offense. “But really, it’s just a good game! The music, the art, the story, I absolutely LOVE this game.”
“Ok, ok, blatant speciesism aside, I’ll give it a chance.” He joked.
Peter ended up really liking the game. The music was actually really good, and the art was beautiful. They didn’t really have a system in place for who had the controller; they just passed it back and forth when they felt like it. Except for when Peter felt stuck or lost, then he’d hand the controller to Duke.
At some point, Peter ended up lying against Duke’s shoulder, watching him play. He kept insisting he was fine when Duke asked, but it was getting harder and harder to remain awake. He thought he blinked, but suddenly he was lying down in Duke’s lap, completely covered by the blanket.
He thought about sitting up, shaking off his exhaustion to keep playing. But instead, he let the music and the warmth from Duke’s body soothe him back to sleep. Maybe relaxing wouldn’t be so terrible.
-
Peter had never been the biggest fan of popcorn, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a staple of movie night. According to Duke, this was a family tradition. They get together every other Wednesday to watch a movie together. All day, they’d been debating and arguing about what movie they’d watch, slowly narrowing down the list. And, after much deliberation, they decided to watch The Thing. (Peter had a feeling they only agreed to it because it was the movie he suggested, and it was his first movie night with them.)
He stood in the lounge, watching everyone get ready. They all had a better sense of what to do than he did. Peter watched them gather blankets and pillows, moving the couch and seats closer and nearer to the TV. He watched them play rock, paper, scissors for who’d get which sitting space, and he watched Duke and Dick roughhouse over a supposedly cheated game. All playfulness and belonging. Everyone had their roles and spots here.
“Pick one,” Steph said, coming over to him. She held out two boxes of candies to him. If he remembered correctly, Dick had bribed Jason to go to the store for a ‘candy run,’ and the other begrudgingly agreed.
One of the boxes was Skittles, and the other was Nerds. “You trying to tell me something?” Peter accused playfully, taking the box of Nerds.
“What? Pfft, no, of course not.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
“Anyway, wild accusations aside, you’re sitting with Cass and me.”
He followed the girl to a seat on the left side of the couch. Stephanie was on the couch near him, and Cassie had a spot on the floor in front of him. Peter sat down, curling up into the seat and squirming a bit to get really cozy.
And then, the world goes dark. It startled him a bit when the blanket covered his head. He made an undignified noise as he scrambled to get it off his head.
When he managed to get the blanket off his head, he was greeted by the sight of Dick, nearly doubled over because he was laughing so hard. “You-” He gasped for breath between laughs. “You squeaked like a bird!”
Embarrassment made Peter’s face warm, but a smile bloomed on his face regardless. “I’ll show you who squeaks like a bird, Mr. Nightwing!”
The two of them started roughhousing. Peter was trying to smother Dick with the blanket, which somehow got both of them on the ground, rolling around in a heap of giggles and blankets. He had to be very, very careful of his super strength, which got harder when his excitement built up, but he had lots of experience with not hurting people with his powers.
“Grayson, Parker, get a hold of yourselves.” Damian snapped when they ended up too close to the boy’s sitting spot.
“Sorry, Dami,” Dick said, going slack under Peter to let him know their mini-sparing session was done. Peter rolled off of him, taking his blanket with him. “You’re way stronger than you look, Pete. It’s a little scary.”
“He lifted a whole building,” Damian said, deadpan.
“Yeah, but he’s still recovering and yet trying to beat this kid is like trying to wrangle an alligator,” Dick said.
“I’m really not. I’m already completely healed.” Peter said.
“Dude, you passed out on my couch for a good 16 hours,” Duke said behind them.
“You also fell asleep at breakfast this morning,” Cassie said.
“That’s got nothing to do with me, ‘still healing’. I was just tired.” Peter said defensively. Nobody believed him. “Sleeping a lot isn’t normal for me.” He admitted quietly. “My healing factor burns calories, not energy. I really don’t know why I’ve been so sleepy.”
“Well, maybe it’s all that sleep you lost over the years catching up to you,” Jason suggested.
“Yeah, maybe.” Peter shrugged. He looks around. “Hey, where’s Tim?”
“Still in the Bat Cave.” Steph rolls her eyes.
“Is he not joining us?”
“Oh, he will. Hold on, I’ll go drag his ass-” Steph starts.
“I’ll get him.” Cassie stands up. “Start the movie.”
She makes her way to the secret passageway. Peter went back to his spot and curled up with his blanket again. Now that all the spots have been picked, they settle in easily.
The movie starts up as someone flicks off the lights. Peter paid attention for a while, but then sleepiness started creeping in. It got worse when Cassie and Tim came up from the cave and took their spots. As soon as they’re settled in, sleep becomes impossible to fight, his eyes refuse to stay open, and his consciousness pulls away from him like a dog fighting a leash. He was asleep within the first twenty-five minutes.
-
<< Cassandra Cain >>
As the movie starts behind her, she descends the steps into the darkness. Tim hardly leaves the cave these days. He’d go to school, but then come right back to the cave to work. Some days, he was working on finding The Joker, but other days, he was hunting for The Changeling. Today, it seemed like a Changeling hunting day.
She stops behind him, watching the screen for a moment. Every filmed encounter involving The Changeling or the group that worked for it was on the screen. Every last known recording of a victim who’d gone missing, every fight they had with The Changeling’s men, every recorded interview with a victim or their family.
With a sigh, she moved closer and set a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Movie is starting.”
“Do you know what a changeling is in European folklore?” Tim asked. Cassie shook her head with a shrug. She knew a bit, but she was far from an expert. “A changeling is a type of fairy that’s said to steal children away to become slaves and replaces the human baby with their own. Any kid who was disabled, deformed, or just odd could be accused of being a changeling. Lots of historians think that the story of the changeling was used as an excuse to dispose of unwanted children since the method of ‘exposing a changeling’ often involved torturing the kid until they made a false confession.”
Cassie squeezed her eyes closed, wincing at the very thought. “Do you think that’s relevant to our Changeling?”
Tim stared at the screen, watching one recording until it looped. Then, he sighed, slumping into his seat. “I don’t know. I just don’t know…” He rubs his face with his hands. “Did The Changeling name itself that, or was it truly the victims' families? Does that even matter? If it did choose to call itself that because of the legend, what does that tell us about it? That’s it’s a folklore nerd? Cool, that doesn’t help at all.” He groans in annoyance. Tim’s eyes flick to a recording that’s open in the biggest window. “I’ve watched that one so many times that I’ve started having nightmares about it.”
The video was unsettling given the context, but not more than the others. There’s a boy in a soccer field, playing with his friends. The ball rolls, the boy follows. He doesn’t come back.
“I keep dreaming about being that kid, about-... about being right there. Playing with my friends one minute and then-...” He trailed off.
Cassie moved closer to her friend’s side so he could read her hand signs. [You’re going to drive yourself insane.]
“Probably.” He mumbled.
[Take a break.]
Tim huffs a humorless laugh. “Is that an order?” She nods.
He leaned over, closing all the windows and turning off the computer. Bruce was very insistent on them properly shutting down the computer when they were done with it. And when the computer shut down and left them in an even thicker darkness, he stood up with a sigh.
“What’s the movie?”
“The Thing.”
He laughed. “Let me guess, Peter wanted to watch that?” Cassie hummed a ‘yes’. “Knew it. That kid just screams sci-fi nerd.”
They made their way up the stairs and up into the lounge. Everyone was settled in and watching the screen with various levels of engagement. He watched Dick scoot over to make room for Tim, who took it gratefully. The older boy tossed the edge of the blanket over Tim’s lap, and Cassandra watched the tension bleed out of his shoulders.
She walks over to the chair that Peter was settled in. Despite his earlier denial, he was already half asleep in his spot, looking cozy and content. Cassie couldn’t help but smile. She settled into her own spot and was offered some popcorn by Stephanie. Just like that, things went back to normal. As if the conversation with Tim never happened.
There was an infinite amount of time to worry about The Changeling later. These nights, though? Nights where her whole family could settle around the TV and enjoy each other’s company were few and far between. And so, she forced herself to relax and enjoy the night for what it was.
-
He writhed in pain, clutching at his stomach. His hands were bound, making them hard to move independently. The pain was a horrible ache that only seemed to get worse and worse as seconds ticked by.
Below him, the sand was ice-cold and unpleasant. It clings to his hair and his clothes. The sand was clawing and invasive, getting into his shirt, mouth, and ears. The sand was drowning him slowly, terribly slowly. The pain was so bad that Peter wished for hands to rise from the sand and drag him down to suffocate him. At least then, it would be quicker than this.
A groan of pain escaped his mouth as he rolled onto his side. It was all dark, like he was trapped in a void. And yet in the darkness, very near to him, was a dead person. Their face was violently pale, their face slack, and blood leaked from their gaping wounds.
He rolled onto his stomach, clawing his way towards the dead person. He didn’t know why he was trying to get to them; he couldn’t save what was already dead, but he dragged himself anyway. Grabbing fistfuls of black sand, he felt it get under his nails and slide against the skin of his stomach uncomfortably. He had to fight to get forward by even an inch, but he was indeed making progress.
When the dead person was within arm's reach, he tried to sit up. Peter looked away for only a moment, but when he looked back, they were gone. Instead, a different dead person was lying further ahead. He could only see the arm of the person, but it was enough to motivate him to keep crawling.
Each time he made it to one of the bodies, they’d disappear. It was a different person every time, a different killing wound, but the result was always the same. His efforts were all for nothing as the people remained dead, and he wasn’t even able to reach their bodies in time. He wished he could be faster, stronger, and bear the pain better, but he couldn’t.
In the distance was a body propped against the rock. At that point, his body was so tense and worn down, yet he crawled anyway, legs scrambling uselessly against the black sand. Black dust had been kicked up into the air and was now hanging around like fog, making it even harder to see.
And yet when he got to the body, he saw it with painful clarity. It was his own body propped up against the rock. Eyes rolled, a thick purple bruise around his neck, and the ghostly palor of death on his face.
“-ter!”
The face began morphing. He watched the skin liquidate, the features of the face drifting like ice cubes in a vast pool. Panic built up in Peter’s chest, but he couldn’t scream.
“Peter, wake up!”
He gasped, jolting up. Tears spilled down his face as he took in rapid breaths. Warm arms wrapped around him, and someone rested their chin on his head.
“Shhh, it’s ok, you’re ok.” They said. He didn’t look away from the thick darkness that surrounded them, but he knew it was Dick. He could smell the other, feel his presence. And it was the only thing keeping him from slipping into a panic. “It was just a bad dream.”
A hand made its way to his hair. Peter closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. He could feel Dick’s heart beating against his cheek. He tried to count the beats and tried to copy Dick’s calm breathing.
“We’re in the living room. Everyone’s asleep.” Dick informed him. “I heard you sobbing in your sleep.”
“Very bad dream.” He croaked. “They-... They were all dead, and I was so- s-so helpless.”
He could feel Dick’s fingers burrow into his hair. It didn’t hurt; in fact, it was very comforting. “You’re ok. It was just a dream.”
Peter shakily grabs Dick’s arm, holding on. Exhaustion was starting to creep in again. He was still so tired despite the fear trying to claw into him.
“Can you… Can you stay with me? ‘M so tired, but…”
“Yeah, of course. Scoot over a bit.”
He did. Peter pulled away and slid as far as he could to make room on the seat. Dick sits down on the seat with him, and for a moment, they squirm to get comfortable. And then, Peter lays his head on Dick’s chest, staring into the darkness.
“Thank you…” He muttered, eyelids getting heavier and heavier.
“It’s no problem, kid. Anytime.”
Comfort and warmth curled up in his chest. Peter fell asleep again way too quickly, but his body was demanding more rest, and he couldn’t do much about it. Luckily, Dick was there to ward off the nightmares until morning.
-
There was a strange amount of tension in the air, especially around breakfast. Peter didn’t know why that was, but he got the feeling that asking wouldn’t get him any answers. He did notice how Dick kept glancing at him and anxiously fixing his hair, and he got the sinking suspicion that it had something to do with whatever the other wasn’t telling him.
“Are you doing anything tonight?” Steph asked.
“Nope. Still under house arrest because of Tim.” Peter said.
“Good, ‘cause we’re gonna kidnap you,” Stephanie said. “We’re having a girls’ night at Bab’s house, and you’re coming with us.”
“Uh, but I’m not-” He was cut off by Stephanie slapping a sticker onto him. He grabbed his shirt to look at the sticker. It was pink and glittery with a fairy holding a wand, and on it were three words: Honorary Hot Girl. “Do you just have those on hand?”
“Yup. Always in my purse.” She said.
“Well, I’m honored to be an honorary hot girl.”
“Just for tonight.”
“Cool.”
“If you wanna be a permanent honorary hot girl, you gotta earn a hot girl card.” She said, completely deadpan. Peter couldn’t help but laugh, not doubting for a second that she had actual cards to pass out as well. “We’ll get you tonight at 6 pm. For now…” She sighs. “I got homework.”
“Oh, right, homework! Steph, I’m probably SO behind on my classes!”
“You have an excused absence until Monday, don’t worry.” She said. “Me, on the other hand? I gotta get my work done, or Mr. Yemen will bite my head off.”
“Mkay. See ya later.”
“See ya.”
He watched her leave before he turned to go as well. This place was massive and easy to get lost in, but he thought he could make his way to the library from here. There wasn’t a whole lot to do when the others weren’t around.
It turns out, it’s less like they live here and more like this was a home base of sorts. Only Damian and Duke lived here full-time; everyone else had houses of their own and other responsibilities that prevented them from being around all the time. So when he was bored and had nothing else to do, he’d go to the library and laze around reading and napping. So much napping. It was actually starting to concern him a bit.
Peter sat down in the comfy lounge chair with one of the poetry books that Duke had recommended. There was a certain quality about these poetry books that he could enjoy, but sometimes he found himself confused while reading them. Duke had recommended a wide variety of poems, from happy ones to romantic ones to scary ones to sad ones, likely because he didn’t know which Peter would prefer. And honestly, Peter didn’t know either; certain ones just stuck out to him, and he wasn’t entirely sure what the reason was.
At some point while reading this one, he dozed off. He only woke up when someone knocked on the doorframe. Peter blinked his eyes open, rolling onto his side. There, Dick stood, a tense smile on his face.
“Hey, kid. You got time to talk?”
Oh shit. This was happening now? Peter sat up straighter, swallowing thickly. Was he ready for this? He didn’t know what to expect, so he didn’t know what to prepare for.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
He put the bookmark in his page and closed it, setting it aside. Dick sat in the chair beside him, anxiously staring anywhere but at Peter. Peter also refused to make eye contact.
“Uh, so…” He laughed anxiously. “I really didn’t mean to keep this from you. I just didn’t know how else to bring it up.” Peter nodded stiffly to let Dick know he was listening. “After, uh, after The Changeling attacked you, we did a DNA analysis on your blood.”
“What?” Peter asked, genuinely upset. That felt like a huge violation of privacy. “Why would you do that? Without even asking me! I just- what the fuck?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. We really shouldn’t have done that, but we were just concerned about you! It seemed like whoever your guardian is has completely let you down, and we couldn’t let that slide. And since we couldn’t find anything about you on record… uh… well, we didn’t have a lot of options.”
Peter slowly shook his head with a sigh. Bitterness was rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down. Was he wrong for feeling so upset? It felt like someone had just gone through his phone or read his diary or something, except this was his DNA! What made him Peter Parker was taken and analyzed without so much as a warning.
“But that’s not all I wanted to say,” Dick said. Peter turned his disapproving and unhappy stare to Dick, who was now staring at his hands. “That DNA analysis didn’t bring up any foster parents or current legal guardians, but it did-” He stumbled for a second. “It did say that your DNA was a close match to mine. Meaning I’m-...”
Peter froze as the whole world spun around him. Pieces began sliding into place. Richard Parker. Richard Grayson. Dick Grayson. Half-remembered details about his family and about the way Dick had been acting, and all this weirdness began to stitch together in his mind.
And suddenly, it hit him. He was staring at his father. His dad, the man Uncle Ben spoke highly of, but he never got to know. Or at least, this universe's equivalent of Richard Parker. His father.
He stood up and left the room without a word. There was nothing to say, nothing that could penetrate the thick fog that had settled into his mind. Peter didn’t know why, but about halfway to the medical wing, he started crying.
-
Stepping out of the shower, he reaches for the towel he’d laid out before. He had taken a shower because Barbara said she wanted to do his hair, and Stephanie seemed to really like that idea as well. Barbara had a nice place, very well kept and well decorated. Her bed was big enough for all of them to sleep in it, although Peter still elected to take the couch.
When he was dry enough and dressed, he stepped out into Barbara’s bedroom. The girls were set up in the bed, and a movie was playing on the TV. They had debated on a movie the entire drive over here, and from what he could tell, they must’ve only started the movie a few minutes ago.
“Wow, that was quick,” Stephanie said, gesturing for Peter to come over and sit.
“You’re only saying that because your showers last an hour at least.” Barbara huffs.
“Yeah, I like taking my time.” She said as though it was obvious.
[You take all the hot water.] Cassie signs.
Peter sat with his back facing Barbara. The woman grabbed the hairbrush from the nightstand and started brushing his hair out. She was remarkably gentle when it came to getting the knots out.
“Are you growing your hair out?” Barbara asked.
“Uh, not intentionally,” Peter said.
“I think you’d look great with longer hair,” Stephanie said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Maybe you should grow it out to shoulder length and see how you like it.” Steph suggests. “I think it looks great.”
“Hm, maybe I will.”
He turned his attention towards the movie as Barbara fussed with his hair. It felt nice to have some time away from the mansion after what happened that morning. Every time his mind drifted to it, he’d frown, and his mood would plummet.
“Look at that!” Barbara said. She grabbed a hand-held mirror from her drawer and showed him. “Your hair looks nice, all brushed out like that.”
He stared at his reflection. His hair did look a lot better. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been showering, of course, he had, but he hadn’t really fussed with his hair much at all. Aunt May always did. He’d brush it how Aunt May liked, then forget about it because looking in the mirror too long always reminded him of how much time had passed since he last saw his family.
“Did you guys know?” He asked suddenly, setting the mirror on the bed.
The others stiffened. That already told him what he needed to know. Peter sighed, staring blankly at the TV. The fact that he didn’t have to clarify also told him that Dick probably warned them he was going to break the news today. Is that why he was invited to girls’ night?
“Yeah.” Barbara admitted. “We knew since your DNA was analyzed.”
“Wasn’t our place to tell you.” Cassie said.
He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know how to feel about this.”
“That’s fair. You don’t have to figure everything out all at once, you have time.” Stephanie said.
“It’s just so weird to know I’ve been chatting with my dad like he was just another dude for so long.” He said. Then, he laughed as a thought came to him. “I had an acrobatic competition with my dad and got absolutely schooled. I might’ve got their first, but Dick won because he’s a total fucking showoff.”
“Yup, that’s Dick for you.” Barbara laughed.
“My father-daughter bonding time included him trying to get me to play chicken with passing cars so he could sue the drivers, so getting your ass handed to you in an acrobatic contest seems pretty nice in comparison.” Stephanie said.
“Jesus, who was your father?” Peter asked.
Steph shrugs casually. “A villain named Cluemaster.”
Peter groaned. “God, again with the stupid names.” He said. “I mean, seriously, you’re making a whole other identity for yourself, another persona for your criminality, and you chose the name ‘Cluemaster’? Dear god.”
“Abusive and uncreative.” Cassie deadpanned.
“Was that abuse? I just thought that was shitty parenting.” Stephanie said.
“Shitty parenting is when your guardian says fuck in front of you or accidentally buys you an M rated game, not trying to get you hit by cars.” Peter said.
“Fair.”
“You ever seen that trend where people have a bowl, they say their name and some trauma from their life, and then pour in candies?” Barbara asked.
“Oh! Trauma candy salad? We should totally do that!” Steph said.
“Four vigilantes who deal with traumatic situations regularly doing a trend about trauma dumping? What could possibly go wrong?” Peter said sarcastically, a grin appearing on his face.
“Sounds like fun.” Cass said.
“We should order food first.” Stephanie said. “That way we don’t fill up on trauma candy.”
“Good idea. I’ll order Chinese.” Barbara said, grabbing her phone.
Peter laid down, focusing on the movie again. He didn’t know what to feel about Dick, what he had learned today. But for now, he’d just enjoy being an honorary hot girl. It was for only one night after all.