Archive of Our Own

Jon cackles, his chin lifting only slightly from its perch on your shoulder just enough for you to fully hear the petty sound. You tilt your switch, sticking out your tongue in a vain attempt to avoid Damian’s blue shell. You cry out, throwing your arms up in exasperation as the shell hits you just as you were about to cross the finish line. Your outstretched prosthetic arm nearly hitting Jon in the process, not that you felt too bad about that considering…

“Yeah! Got ‘em, Dami!” Jon says, high fiving a smug-looking Damian beside you.  You glare at Jon, who was still leaning against you like you weren’t about to bite his head off. “Whose side are you on?”

“Justice!” This draws a snort out of both Tim and Jason who were both sitting in the back. 

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am!”

“He is, (l/n). You needed to be cut down to size,“ Damian declares, subtly brandishing his screen showing Rozalina doing a little victory lap in her kart as her little star guy floated around her. You pout at him, puffing your cheeks like an unruly chipmunk as you cross your arms over your chest. This only serves to make Damian all the smugger and Jon all the more gleeful at your loss. 

You turn the full force of your ire on Jon who was smiling innocently at you, big blue eyes sparkling reminding you of your husky, Yoohoo. You’re about to say something scathing but stop instead deciding to stew in your loss and sulk as you hand Jon your Switch. You’d think he would be more prepared since he was the one who insisted on coming with you to this camp. Now that you think about it, why were they here? All you remember is telling Jon that you couldn’t go visit him over the summer because your parents were sticking you in a summer camp while they go abroad for something and the next thing you know is that you’re in an SUV with Jon, Damian, Damian’s older brother’s, and their friend(?). Whatever she was to them Damiam never adequately explained like everything else. Though you suspect she was Dick’s wife judging from how little they cared whether the other invaded their space. The lack of a wedding ring made you unsure. 

You let out a little huff, melting into your oversized Gotham U hoodie, letting Jon lean on you despite your sour mood and touch aversion. You lean against him in return and watch as Yoshi zips past Rosalina in mild petty satisfaction. 

You all file out of the car, drowsy and irritable. You muss Jon’s bed head into an even more tangled mess. Neither of you tells Damian about the streak of drool on his face. Tim shuffles the three of you towards the convenience store while Jason politely explains to the mechanic that he’s wrong, Dick orders lunch at the diner and makes a call back to Gotham presumably to make sure Wayne industries isn’t burning down. 

Over your shoulder, you can see Jason’s form working hard not to look threatening. It’s not working or maybe the mechanic was shaking because Faust isn’t even trying to hide the irritation wicking off of her. 

“He wha-” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose muttering something about Mr.Wayne. He looks pained. Tim hands you a wad of one-dollar bills as his voice takes Timothy Wayne’s public speaker pitch. All of the Wayne’s seem to have three voices. Their Wayne voice, their vigilante voice, and their normal voice. Mr. Wayne has the most distinct voice. Dick’s was honestly really hard to distinguish.  

You count the wad of cash in your hand as Jon grabs a basket from the pile. You note, with amusement, that at least five of the bills had variations of ‘don’t buy cereal’ written on them in distinct handwriting. 

“Kent, are you planning to put the entire store in the basket?”

“Nah, just the good stuff.”

You marvel at the amount of food Jon managed stockpile in your basket while you were distracted. 

“Uh, Jon, we don’t need that much.” Plus, I don’t think we can eat all of that. 

“They’re right,” Damian chides, making Jon pout. 

After a healthy amount of debate, two almost food fights, a near fistfight, and your attempt at puppy dog eyes, you finally narrow the snacks down and even have enough money left for slushies. You shrug at her, adding more blue than necessary. There weren’t rules against this. Plus, it was tastier this way. 

“Dami,  what flavor do you want?” Jon shouts from the slushie machine.  Beside him, you swirl a mix of red, green, pink, and blue slushies. The lady at the counter was wrinkling her nose at you the way Dami is wrinkling his nose at Jon.

Jon’s big cup of neon blue smoothie dropped to the floor in a loud clatter. 

“You’re all doomed! He’s coming. He’s coming! That place is cursed!” The scraggly man screams as he shakes Jon. Damian’s lip tries not to curl in amusement as you both watch the scene unfold. Out of context, this was horrifying. In context, it was hilarious especially considering how badly Jon is acting. The clerk at the counter looks appropriately horrified. You look at Jon, feeling a twinge of worry. He’s not in danger. You know that but you can’t help it.

Your concoction flies into the man’s face in no time flat and Jon scrambles to your side as soon as the man drops him. You step in front of him bracing for further confrontation but the man simply walks off muttering about something you couldn’t hear over the beating of your heart. 

“Exactly, why am I in the back?” Jason whines, unfolding and refolding himself, not quite sure where to place what limb in the cramped back row of the SUV. You let out a giggle which earns you a rather harsh glare from an already irate Jason. Damian glares back at him for you, in an oddly protective gesture, and you can’t help but feel strangely smug about it. 

They glower at each other for a few minutes. Jason, probably knowing this was a stalemate, turns his attention towards the front of the vehicle, sharp green eyes narrowing at the rearview mirror. “Shouldn’t Faust’s short ass be in the back with Timbo and the Three Tiny Terrors?” 

You hear an amused huff from the front along with the loud crinkling and shuffling of the map. Faust glances over her shoulder, the bright mischief in her eyes contrasting with the rich brown of her skin. You wonder if everyone in Damian and Jon’s lives were all this pretty. An almost smile quirks on the edges of her lips as she says “You didn’t call shotgun~”

Jason hisses something colorful behind you. Tim, beside him, is chuckling either from Jason’s misery or, based on the defeated cry coming from Jon, having just nailed Yoshi with lightning. Could be both. It was likely. 

Jason, looking positively annoyed, unfolds himself and violently settles his feet on Tim’s lap. Tim yelps then says something close to a swear word. Jason grins lazily looking more like a cat as he leans back. This time Jon cries out in joy, the victory music blaring from your switch. Again, Tim hisses something edging towards a curse word. Jon wriggles out of his seat and fist bumps Jason who returns the gesture enthusiastically. In the reflection on the windshield, you can clearly see the amusement in Dick’s smile. Even to your right, Damian seems amused if not outright gleeful at seeing Tim’s misery.  You couldn’t quite tell. You weren’t a master of reading Waynes yet. You would turn to Jon but he wasn’t fluent either. Faust told you that it would take a while which just meant that you would never master it. Reading people was hard enough as it was. There was always something difficult about interpreting social signals. It was so easy to get them wrong and when you add in the complication of being a vigilante you just found yourself frustrated. You slump into the seat feeling the frustration writhing under your skin. Jon noticing your frustration eases up and gives you a little more space. 

"So, what’s with the map?” Tim asks, throwing Jason’s feet back at him and handing you his switch. Faust wrinkles her nose at the offending piece of paper. “Well, Dicktopus here insisted on the authentic road trip atmosphere complete with bad cell signal, a map, and oh right, getting lost.” Dick gives her a look which Faust just shrugs it off. 

“Like what? The Goofy movie?” Tim asks incredulously, his brows wrinkling in the rearview mirror as he gives Dick a withering look. 

Faust snorts in confirmation. Jon’s face crumples in confusion. You make a small hiccupping noise mimicking the noise that passes for Goofy’s laugh and you see as the bleary memory clicks into place. “You mean the old movie we watched last night?”

“It’s old but gold,” Dick defends fervently, earning him an indulgent smile from Faust and a withering look from Damian. Damian shrinks into his seat unwilling to expend too much effort defending his mentor’s taste in movies despite him enjoying the movie. You did too but you wanted to see how this would play out. Behind you, Jason shifts, a shark-like grin plastered across his face. “ Just because that’s the movie you modeled your life after, Big Bird, doesn’t mean it’s good.”

Dick makes this affronted noise that makes him sound a little like he’s squawking. “It’s a good movie and you know it!” Dick says earnestly, scowling at a still cocky Jason through the reflection in the windshield. You see Damian, Jason, Faust, and Tim’s eyes meet in the rearview mirror, all shining conspiratorially. You and Jon give each other a look, each looking like you’re bracing for disaster. 

“Dunno, Dick, I think the second one was soooo much better,” Tim pipes up finally. It sounds like the spark lighting a trail of gunpowder towards a powder keg. 

“I have to agree with Drake,” Damian says honestly sounding pained. 

Faust rewards him with a conspiratorial smile which makes Damian ease a little. The gesture from what you understood roughly translated to ‘it was for the greater good.’ “So much for your taste in movies, Dickens,” Faust teases, poking a finger at Dick’s shoulder. 

“You’re one to talk!” Dick says, rolling his eyes childishly. 

Faust twists her body to look at all 5 of you, winking at you and Jon as if she was about to perform a magic trick, which wasn’t off the table since she could actually pull weapons from her tattooed skin. “You guys loved Lake Placid, right?" 

Playing along, you each gave varying sounds of agreement til Dick finally threw his hands up in exasperation. "HEATHENS!” Faust looks pleased as punch at this reaction. You giggle as Dick groans into the steering wheel as you slow to a stop in front of a cross-section. 

“Traitors all of you,” Dick says, resting his arm on the back of his seat and giving all of you a halfhearted scowl. He kind of looked like Yoohoo when you refused to give him treats. 

You all bask in Dick’s misery. You even catch Jon giggling at Dick’s frown despite himself. The rest were completely unrepentant. They don’t even bother to hide the self-satisfied smiles on their faces, least of all Damian who vehemently protested to being subjected to such drivel. This is, of course, ignoring the fact that he had watched the movie with the same rapt attention as you and Jon. You all enjoyed the movie just as much as Dick did but it was much funnier to gang up on him. 

Dick continues to argue his point as all of you offer, frankly, bogus arguments that you say with as much conviction as Dick levels against you. The banter continues in a rather jaunty rhythm until a fallen tree forces the car into a rather abrupt stop. 

“Shit!” Jason hisses at full volume as his knees hit the back of Damian’s seat which draws out a soft 'oof’ from Damian which quickly reshapes into a snarl. Tim and Damian give Jason a look of mock sympathy. Jason raises his middle finger in a vaguely familiar gesture. 

“Jason!” Dick says, cutting off your train of thought much to your frustration. You contemplate hissing some colorful words yourself. 

Jason grunts, probably rubbing his shins. “They’ve heard, said, and done worse.” You hear Jon protest beside you but it’s quickly cut off by a 'not you’ from somewhere. 

Then it hits you. “Oh yeah! Dami did that hand thingy when he drop-kicked someone during lunch,” you admit conversationally. 

“Dami!" 

Damian gives you an absolutely betrayed look. You shrug at him not entirely sure what was wrong. You shrink a little and Damian pulls back a little but still glares. 

"Didn’t you hear him say the F-word?” Jon adds. You blink at him, running through your memory like a film reel and turning up nothing. “Some of us don’t have super hearing,” you supply with no real anger behind it. 

“Ope, sorry, (y/n).” You shrug at him congenially as he smiles sheepishly at you. No harm no foul. 

“Kent!”

“Oh- Uh, sorry, Dami." 

Damian doesn’t look appeased at all by this. 

“Ok, so we’re just gonna skip over the fact that he drop-kicked someone?” Tim asks, raising a brow and you find yourself thinking, “Well, yeah. He’s Robin. That’s kinda his thing.”

Jason snorts beside him, seemingly less irritable now that Dick’s attention was directed elsewhere. “He didn’t get caught soooo..”

“Jason!”

“Jason, we’re not supposed to be obvious about being terrible influences.” Faust jokes, now redirecting Dick’s ire to her. You can’t tell if that was intentional or not but either way she seems to be enjoying how Dick’s expression makes him look like a carp gasping for air.

“Why did you tell them?” Damian hisses, albeit softer than he normally does. You frown at him confused. You thought it was spectacular and you really don’t know what was wrong. You really wish they’d explain it. Maybe you should speak up but would that be rude? You stare at Damian trying your hardest to convey your confusion but you’re having trouble shaping your face into the correct one. You try to keep in mind the face Jon makes when Damian tried to explain quantum physics to both of you. 

Turning away from her argument with Dick, Faust looks at you pityingly before speaking and putting her hand up to Dick’s face lightly pushing him back. “Relax, Baby Vamp, I would’ve gotten it out of them sooner or later,” Faust says, looking at you with the same stern look Mr. Pennyworth gives you when you try to steal cookies. It kind of reminds you of the Penance Stare from Ghost Riders but with less flaming skulls and more implied disappointment. 

“Tim was the one who ate the last few pieces of the brownies Mr. Pennyworth made for Jason.” The words flow out of you like water from a cataract. Faust waves her hand theatrically as if she had just demonstrated a magic trick. Again, you’re pretty sure this was one. You wince fully expecting Tim to have the same caustic reaction as Damian. But when you turn to look at him to apologize, Tim already had his hands up in front of him defensively. On the other side, not far enough away for Tim’s liking, Jason looks livid, steam coming out of his ears. 

“Those were mine, asshole!”

“You eat them every time you’re at the Manor!”

“When I’m at the Manor! Which is what? Once every three months?”

“Two,” Tim deadpans, holding up two fingers. 

That was the wrong thing to say, you realize. From the way they’re staring at each other, you’re a little afraid they’d come to blows as Jason surges forward. 

“Tim, Jay, I will turn this car around if you two don’t stop.”

“Please, continue.” Dick shoots Damian a ‘you are not helping’ glare but Damian simply answers with a warning one. They all look ready for a brawl and all you want to do is curl up into your oversized hoodie. You play with the frayed edges of your hoodie hoping you’re radiating your discomfort.

And like an angel of mercy, Faust clears her throat. “(Y/n), Jon, help me clear the road.” The statement leaves no room for argument and you and Jon breathe a collective sigh of relief. 

Jon lifts the tree with ease. It was an oddly healthy tree, freshly cut. Something about it made your stomach turn. “Jon could have done it alone. Why bring me?” You ask, distracting yourself from the strange feeling by fiddling with the joints of your metal hand which only made you more conscious of how pointless it was to bring you along. Faust glances towards the car. The boys are still bickering. She then glances down at you with a wry smile. “Waynes bickering is really funny from a distance.” Your eyes glance at the light scar on her running down her clavicle, disappearing into the line of her shirt.  You doubt it’s from any of them. You really doubt it. The Wayne kids were chaotic, especially the girls, but they’re never- Well, they can be hurtful but not that way. Not that you’ve seen anyway.   You shake your head and glance at the car and watch them argue. Their gestures are animated and loud enough that you could almost hear the bickering going on. This liveliness settles your stomach. 

You spend a few minutes out there waiting for them to settle down. It was long enough for you and Jon to start debating the existence of Gummy Bear shaped aliens and for Faust to weigh in with her humble opinion. Dick honks at the three of you to tell you it was, relatively, safe to come back. Tim, Damian, and Jason were all sulking in their respective corners while Dick gives you and Jon an apologetic look. Jon simply shrugs as if to say it was normal for brothers to argue but you found it hard to picture Conner ever being that mean to Jon or vice versa for that matter. Faust rolls her eyes at the sulking birds, a fond smile quirking on her lips.  Dick gives her a look that was usually followed by the words ‘I miss not being the adult’ which she graciously answers with a smile that plainly says ‘me too.’

In the corner of your eye, you see something- a shadow- move in the woods as you drive off, Dick’s story about space aliens falling away into the background. You turn to Jon who looks at you confused and a little concerned. It was clear he didn’t see it, whatever it was. You turn to Damian but see he’s still stewing. You blin and the shadow is gone. A sticky feeling of dread settles in your stomach. 

There’s pressure in the car. 

The camp is, well, loud. 

Louder than you were expecting and full of rowdier children than promised. You wince slightly, ears ringing. You and Damian sigh already knowing that you were both going to be absolutely exhausted by the end of this. You turn to Jon, shoulder slumping, only to find him beaming as he watched the other kids run around. There were alot of days you envied Jon and this was one of them. Damian looks at Jon with utter disbelief. You shrug at him as he wrinkles his nose at both Jon and the hooligans running around. Your lip quirks into a scraggly smile fully understanding.

“This is going to be repulsive,” Damian hisses.  

“Lighten up, Dami.”

“Nah, he’s gotta practice being dark and brooding, so when he gets to be the big bad bat he can do the whole brooding thing all-natural,” you joke, using your finger to mimic the ears of Batman’s cowl. 

“Please, say that louder. I don’t think the supervillains heard you,” says Damian sarcastically, nose upturned.  

Jon grins at you in a challenge. You raise a brow, crossing your arms. Your brain cell takes a vacation. 

“HE’S GOTTA-” Damian clamps a hand on your mouth. You glare at him. His eye flicks to Jon who is sucking in a breath. Damian is throwing his other hand over Jon’s mouth when one of the counselors waves you over. All three of you blanch at the color of the shirt. 

You all stand in an odd misshapen circle. Damian looks incredulously at the tacky camp T-shirt he’s been forced into while Jon does not contain his laughter. You joke about how a bowtie would definitely class it up which earns you a rude gesture that just makes you laugh harder. 

“Alright kiddos, it’s time to introduce ourselves!”

Damian froze under the weight of their collective gazes, the hint of a smile on his face fading. Sometimes being around you and Jon made him forget. Well, not really forget. It was just easier not to think about it when you two were around. Damian feels himself shifting, realigning himself to 5’ 2” of cold arrogance.

It should have scared you just how easily the warm fondness on his face smoothed out giving way to this cold calculating face. It did on some level; on some level, the efficiency of Damian’s face muscles scared you. Sometimes you had to wonder if it was just him or if his brothers had the same knee-jerk reaction. 

You roll your eyes as if nothing worrying had happened and bump your shoulder against his. A smile twitches on his lip and the ramrod shape of his spine curves a bit.  Jon snickers, not trying too hard to hide it, which earns him the full force of Damian’s ire but you and Jon know all too well that Damian’s just being prickly.  You step forward, shoulders broadening, nudging a glaring Damian behind you redirecting everyone’s stares towards you. It’s uncomfortable but you don’t mind. Damian huff behind you but doesn’t protest any more than that. You smile amicably or as amicably as you can. You need to remember the correct shape.  

Introductions go off without a hitch. 

Jon, like always, has no trouble stirring the crowd. 

 You make an impression when your introduction careens into a tangent about angelfish.

Behind you, Damian scoffs and  crosses his arms over his chest. Contrary to popular belief, Damian did have a tendency to be nervous, especially around new people. This is compounded by the fact that Damian wasn’t really versed in dealing with people his own age which just put him on edge. 

Thankfully, all three of you get sorted into the same cabin. The cabin is chaotic in a familiar, childish sort of way with pillows flying everywhere and kids jumping up and down their bed. Jon immediately jumps into the fray. Damian follows soon after Jon hits him with a pillow square in the face. 

“Woman up and face me, Kent!”

You look up to the sky and smile in amusement.  This is going to be an interesting summer.

The room is solid. 

Your eyes incandescent in the darkness. The air crackles in anticipation of the storm.  

A silver streak of lightning tears down through the heavens and crashes down into the lake. 

A strange dislocation in the universe has emerged.

Your eyes shut. 

Your ears pop. 

You do not hear as something mangled rises from the water. 

You wanted to say this was a horrible idea. Though, you’re not sure how to phrase that without implying they’re idiots. You’ve been hanging out with Damian too much. He’s starting to rub off on you and you’re mildly concerned. 

You’d told them that the whole fight was your fault. Ok, not entirely. You simply told the kid off when he was making fun of Jon and you were not gonna stand for that. The kid shoved you, Damian 'accidentally’ broke his nose, and the next thing you know is that you’ve been shoved into a random group of campers.It’s been a week but you still weren’t familiar with a lot of the people in the camp. The man with kind eyes said this would be good for you.  You really would have preferred staying at the campgrounds, cleaning and doing whatever with the people in your cabin. 

“Alright, kiddos, you guys can go swim while me and Jos go check something out in the woods.”

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t!”

You sniff and bite your tongue, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

"You sure they’re gonna be ok?”

“What you think they’re gonna disappear like Cat?”

Your ears perk up at this. 

“Well, I mean-”

“She probably just ran off with one of the town boys." 

This was probably the best time to bring up child endangerment protocols or the fact that you’re not even dressed for swimming. By the time you string the correct combination of words,  they’re gone. You sigh and huddle yourself into a tree. It’s not like you’re dressed to swim anyway even if you wanted to. 

You hug your knees as you flatten yourself against the tree, making sure your prosthetic limb is tucked beneath your normal one. You watch the others as they horse around looking like they’re really enjoying themselves. They probably didn’t realize you were there or did they even notice you join the group. Doesn’t matter really. Right now you would prefer to sit under the tree than risking your arm. Mr. Fox had explained that since it was still a prototype it was delicate. 

“HEY!”

You jump. Your skin feeling very confined. You turn to the voice. Jesse, you think. 

“Sorry. Could you- can you say that again?”

She rolls her eyes at you and you suddenly doubt the politeness of your speech but no you were pretty sure that was the correct way to say it. 

“I said ‘can your arm go in the water?’.”

Oh.

“No?” You were half sure it couldn’t. You haven’t really tested it since it was easier to bathe without it. She gives you a skeptical look and yanks your arm towards her. You yelp. “Hey! What are you-” Your throat tightens when you find yourself at the dock. It’s shaky. The slightest shifting made it move. 

You turn your heel mumbling an apology but your arm is yanked back. The grip is stronger now. You look back and see two people holding on to it. “Let go!” you say, trying to wrench yourself free. “It’s- it’s not a toy,” you add but they don’t budge.

“You’re being a baby!”

“C’mon (y/n)!”

“Let’s see how well robots can swim!”

You scream as they throw you into the water. 

You thrash your limbs around, grasping for something, anything but all you can feel is the viscous emptiness deforming and reforming with every splash. 

You cry out. 

The water muffles your screams along with the distant sound of laughter and heckling. 

Your mouth is filling with water.

Your lungs. Your lungs are burning. 

Your chest aches. 

You can’t breathe. 

Help!

Help!

Please!

Someone!

It hurts. 

Your vision is pulsing. The edges are going dark. 

Your limbs are going numb and falling to pieces. 

The world is sinking. 

It’s so dark. 

It’s too cold. 

Why are you alone?

Where are they?

You don’t want to die like this. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

You feel a large hand fish you out by the scruff of your shirt. It tosses you onto the shore; the force as you hit the ground knocks the air (water?) out of your lungs. You heave, gasping like a fish. A large silhouette hangs over you, cold dread licks up your spine but you note a lack of panic. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen. 

Your vision comes back in pieces and by the time the world puzzles back together, you’re alone. You’re alone and shivering like a wet rat. You look around, brushing wet hair out of your eyes and you realize you’re not entirely sure of the way back. You curl in on yourself. It does nothing to warm you but you were desperate to feel whole and safe and ok. 

You aren’t entirely sure how long it is before Jon and Damian find you or just how they managed it but you’re thankful when someone drapes a heavy towel over your head, muffling the scattered sounds around you. Shakily, you pull the towel over your face. It hides the tears well enough. Your loose hanging limbs tighten around you. You want to shrink, small enough to smooth over the trembling in your body. You know they’ve saved people from drowning before. They’ve saved people from far worse. Heck, they’ve been through far worse. You desperately don’t want them to think of you as weak, as less but here you were trembling. You’re unable to steady your own breathing. Frustration rises in the back of your throat. It is a welcome change from the nonstop medley of panic that’s been shoved on you. 

A hand settles itself on your head, the movement stiff, light, and controlled. The pressure increases a touch when you don’t protest. Damian radiates awkwardness as he attempts to ruffle your still-damp hair. You smile up at him through damp hair. Damian simply grunts as he continues to avoid eye contact by staring out at the empty lake. 

Jon plops down next to you kicking his feet out in front of him. He gives your space but he’s just close enough for you to lean against if you wanted to. On his shoulder was your ratty oversized hoodie. You tug at his sleeve to ask for it. He hands it to you. You slip it on, not caring that you were still soggy. The familiar, loose weight of fabric against your skin made you feel whole and safe and marginally ok. 

Jon presses a hand onto your back mimicking the experimental way Damian had patted your damp hair. He listens to the steadying rhythm of your heart, his own easing back into a calmer rhythm. Damian raises a brow at him and he gives him a thumbs up. Damian’s shoulders loosen and Jon can’t help the snort that comes out of him. You look at him startled and Damian gives him the ol’ Damian glare which makes him laugh out loud. Your eyes flicker to Damian and then roll your eyes, crow’s feet wrinkling in the corners of your eyes. You twist your mouth into a weird squiggly line in an attempt to smother a laugh in fear of incurring Damian’s wrath. Jon highly doubts you’d be able to. Damian was, in fact, a big old softie. Sure, he acts grumpy all the time but spending so much time with both Dick and Faust has made him pretty mushy by bat standards but Jon wouldn’t dare say that out loud, at least, not when Damian looked this close to throwing him into the water. 

You spend a long time soaking up the quiet before heading back. Jon slings an arm around you but pulls it back when he hears your heart stutter. You pinch and tug at his sleeve and mumble an apology.  You see Damian shoot Jon his version of the Pennyworth look. 

“Sorry, (y/n).”

“‘S ok,” you rasp quietly. 

You three walk along the shore towards the cap. You feel too tired to even blanch at the odd feeling of wet socks as you pad along the path. You walk in silence which is interrupted by a bird call here and there with either you or Jon occasionally asking Damian to translate. He does but for some reason some odd reason, they keep calling you idiot or imbeciles. You watch Damian’s eyes flick here and there. You know he feels it too. The odd feeling of being watched. The rustle of leaves echoes eerily in the stillness. 

The counselors, mercifully, let you skip out on the rest of the afternoon’s activities. You curl up in your cabin, warm and very comfortable in the pool of fabric created by one of Mr. Kent’s hoodies which Jon ‘accidentally’ packed. You rolled your eyes at him but accepted it gratefully. You make a mental note to thank him with the mill house cookies you ‘accidentally’ bought at one of the rest stops. 

You flip through the yellowing pages of the book in your hand. You aren’t quite sure how to describe how inappropriate it is to give a drowning victim a book on the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft. Then again, it was better than reading Moby Dick. Plus, you’re enjoying yourself trying to find a man who is about as stealthy as a Green Lantern. You’ll have to ask Damian or Jon. Damian’s more likely to have met a Green Lantern but he’s also more likely to give you a boring and entirely inaccurate answer. 

You go back to the fish people. Do Atlanteans walk like that? Maybe.  It feels odd somehow moving around without your prosthetic limb. Lighter but infinitely more unstable.  

“Do you think they’ll find Cat?”

Your ears perk up. Your eyes flick to the window and you see two counselors leaning against another cabin. You shuffle awkwardly somehow moving the mass of cloth quietly. You squish against the wall making sure they can’t see you. 

“Cat just ran off. You know how she is.”

“That’s what Raz said.”

“Yeah, where is he?”

“Who knows he’s probably just fucking around in the woods. Doing Bear Grylls shit or something.”

“Hope he comes back soon.”

“Do you really wanna deal with that horny jackass?”

“No but he’s the only decent cook. Do you really wanna taste what awful concoction Ratty has for us?”

Your stomach curdles remembering Ratty’s terrible improvisation of Doro Wat. Ratty said it was their grandmother’s recipe but you doubted it. Unlike the one Jason made for you one time, it was bland. It wasn’t even close to spicy. The vegetables were overcooked while the chicken was somehow undercooked. In short, you had nearly died twice since you got here. 

“Nope. I’d rather starve. Isn’t their cooking like a human rights violation?”

Starvation would be a kinder death. 

“Yeah. Anyway, I tried asking Jos. Apparently, Raz and a bunch of the other Lil shits have been fucking around in town.”

“Is that where Jackie disappeared to?”

“Probably.”

Ok, so the counselors have been dropping like flies and you have yet to notice. You should probably tell Damian and Jon. Something about this seems wrong. 

“Are you ever gonna stop glaring at them?” you ask, plopping on to the log letting your empty sleeve hang loosely off to your side. 

“Depends, have they apologized?”

“Ye-”

“Sincerely?”

“Well-”

“Then no.”

“Ok, but does Jon have to pout at them?”

“I’m not pouting!”

“Wait… That’s your glare?”

“Yeah?” Jons says furrowing his brow. 

“Batcow’s given me better glares!”

“Again, (l/n) is right.”

“Thank you!”

“Dami, who’s side are you on?”

Damian’s lips curl into a cat-like smile, the kind you saw on Selina. “Justice.”

Jon throws his hands up defeated. You give Damian a low five as he settles beside you. Jon takes the seat on your other side still pouting. 

"Do you kids know the rules to surviving a horror movie?" 

The chattering dies down and you all fall silent, turning your full attention to the counselor. Your counselor lets out an absolutely delighted squeal, clapping their hands. You don’t miss the absolute dread on your other counselor’s face. 

“Ok so, rule 1: Be a virgin-”

“Ratty!” Dawes, the counselor with dread on her face, squeaks elbowing Ratty, Ratchet. “Couldn’t you have worded it differently or you know, not at all?!” Ratty, the horror enthusiast counselor, rubs their arm and sticks their tongue out at Dawes who looks like she’s going to age ten years during this conversation. 

If you thought Dawes was pale before, she nearly turns transparent with the next few words that leave your mouth. “What’s a virgin?” you blurt out. You desperately want to curl in on yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t know. It was just your mouth runs faster than your mind.  The kids around you snicker and one of the boys behind you claps you on the shoulder, laughing loudly. You lean on Damian, hiding behind him slightly. Damian shifts so he’s shielding you more.

Dawes sputters out her answer.  It’s hard to understand. You watch the others searching for clues for an appropriate reaction. 

“It’s a person who’s never had intercourse,” Damian deadpans and you nod quietly. 

Dawes’ face lights up like a Christmas tree while Ratty’s twists into pure joy. Damian rolls his eyes as the other kids laugh even louder. It takes a moment but your cheeks heat up realizing the gap in your reaction must have given them the wrong idea. You pinch the bridge of your nose and you sigh. You see Jon snort at you and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“See, Dawes, they know.”

“What about keeping them innocent?!” 

 “I’m not getting paid to do that,” Dawes drags her hand over her face as Ratty shrugs,” ’sides, this is life skills.” Dawes slaps Ratty on the shoulder again making them whine at the impact.  “Ok. Ok. Fine. Fine. Jeez, you hit like a son of a- Oh wait, have any of you heard about Camp Blood?”

This gets you all to quiet down. 

“Camp Blood? Isn’t that like a video game?”  

“It’s like a local ghost story isn’t it?”

“Wasn’t that the one with the fish-”

“It’s not the fish people.”

“Let me tell the story!”

“Ratty, you never tell the story well. You keep making weird voices and you can’t even keep a straight face.”

“SLANDER,” Ratty shouts, throwing up their hands. 

“Pffft, you also gonna tell us you can cook a 5-star meal?”

“Ok. Ok. Fine. I’ll just tell it to them straight.”

“What? As straight as Dawes?”

“Pffft, we’d go in circles.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true!”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“What’s the thing about Camp Blood?” Jon pipes, putting a hand over Damian’s mouth probably sensing the sharp remark he’s about to say. Damian licks his hand and Jon pulls away waving his hand like he’s been burned.  You snort then blanch when Jon rubs the spit on to your hoodie. 

“Gather round children-”

“Ratty, they’re in a circle get on with it.”

“I AM TRYING TO SET THE MOOD.”

“Jesus, ok. So, a looong time ago there was this kid named Jason Voorhes. When two counselors were fu- OW! Jeez, Dawes- Ow! Ok, fine. While two counselors were distracted, he drowned-”

“Sounds familiar,” snipes Damian. An apologetic look crosses Dawes’ face, a confused one on Ratty’s, and sheepish one on Jos’. You squeeze his and Jon’s shoulders. 

Ratty shakes their head. “Anyway, they never find the body so his mom comes back and hacks the new counselors into pieces as some soft of demented justice for her kid.”

“That’s a bit of an overreaction,” Jos laughs awkwardly. The glares on them do not waver. You elbow Damian and kick Jon’s foot. Damian ignores you while Jon gives you a look of mock hurt.  You roll your eyes at him and attempt to elbow Damian a second time. Again, nothing.

“The thing is one of the counselors actually manages to decapitate Mrs. Voorhees. She disappeared two months after though. Legend has it that Jason still roams the grounds of Camp Blood seeking revenge for his mother.”

The air is humming, thick with the roll of thunder and  the premonition of a storm. 

There is a dislocation in the universe. 

Your ears pop. 

You look at Jon who looks vaguely like his mother when she’s sniffed out a story. You look at Damian who is already sussing out every detail of the story. Your eyes meet and you all nod. 

“It has to be someone using the urban legend as some sort of cover. Or! Or maybe they’re using the urban legend to mythologize their killings,” you say, through a mouth full of contraband chocolate chip cookies. 

Damian snatches the package from you taking a piece.“(l/n), that’s ridiculous-”

“Yeah, we don’t even know if they’re dead yet,” Jon protests, snatching the bag from a scowling Damian. 

“What are the odds they’re still alive?” 

You all fall silent. “We assume they’re still alive until we see proof of the contrary,” Damian says firmly. You and Jon nod. The movement feels heavy.  

“But what if the Jason ghost is a real thing?”

“Possible.”

“(l/n), don’t indulge him.”

“Jon is literally part alien,” you protest

“Jason has come back from the dead and Faust literally has moving tattoos,” Jon adds.

“YOUR DAD IS LITERALLY BEST FRIENDS WITH A 5000-YEAR-OLD AMAZONIAN AND A DUDE WHO CAN LIFT BUILDINGS.”

“Ok, fine but we should eliminate the more mundane explanations first,” Damian concedes accepting another cookie. 

“I think we have. It’s too rapid and obvious to be a human trafficking operation.”

“We should find the counselors first.”

“Yeah, that’s a start.”

“Where should we start?”

“Abandoned cabins would be a good start,” you suggest trying not to perk up. 

Damian glares at you and you wither. “(l/n), you’re not coming with us.”

“You say this like (y/n)’s gonna listen,” Jon laughs. 

“ET has a point,” you say, grinning and opening another packet. You offer Jon the first cookie as thanks. 

“Can’t I at least be a cool alien?”

“Nope.”

“Will you two focus?”

“Yeah. No.”

Damian pinches his nose. You completely understand why people think Damian makes a convincing fifty year old. “(l/n)…”

“Ok, fiiiine. I’ll stay out of it.”

“Don’t even think about sneaking out.”

You frown and nod. 

You tiptoe through the brush, one metallic arm wrapped around you, the other hanging limply to your side flashlight clasped tight in your metallic hand.  Camp Blood isn’t too far. You silently survey a few cabins finding nothing particularly interesting aside from cobwebs and potentially dead animals. The air is musty and decayed. You sniff and rub your nose as you walk through the camp guided only by strips of moonlight. If you were to run into a murderer now, you would only have your flashlight to defend you. You didn’t like those odds. 

You’re a deer in headlights. 

Dry mouth. 

Skin going cold. 

A scream burbling in the back of your throat. 

The lumbering figure is coming closer. 

You know he can see you. 

Your feet are fused to the ground. 

The light of the machete winking at you from a distance. 

The world turns into a blur when your back hits the rotting wood of the abandoned cabin. 

“What did I say about sneaking out?” Damian hisses, arm pressed on your neck. You blink. A flood of relief crowds your chest. 

You sling your arms around him and he stiffens. You explain away the surprised little yelp as something animal and not something from your friend. “I didn’t sneak out. I went to the bathroom then I wandered off,” you mumble. 

“How exactly is that different?” 

“Less tiptoeing.” 

"Funny.”

“It is.”

“Have you seen Kent?”

“Sadly no.”

“Shit- Don’t tell Grayson.”

“The fact that you swore or the fact that you somehow lost Superman’s kid" 

He glares at you and you can’t help but shrug. 

"Both." 

"Fair,” you say, pausing for half a breath.”Did you find the hostages?”

Damian’s face falls then hardens then you know better than to ask him.  

“We should find Jon,” Damian says finally. You flick your eyes and shake your head pushing down the urge to make fun of his slip. You’ll tell Jon later. 

You two walk together, shoes in hand. It was easier. Maybe after this, you’ll ask Tim to teach you how to sneak around. 

The sound of crashing wood fills the still night air. You and Damian freeze. 

“JON.” Damian is the first to launch himself towards a cabin. You shamble behind him, plodding through the muddy earth as fat droplets of rain splashing down.   You would have blanched at the squishing but all you could think about was Jon.  

“Jon!”

“Dami! (y/n)!”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m in a hole. What do you think?”

You look him over as best you can in the dark. Damian seems to be having a better time. “You’re not in pain, so yeah.”

Jon huffs, shifting around in the pile of clothes. His nose wrinkles.“This jumper smells like something died in it,“ he says holding up a particularly old looking sweater. It’s blotchy with various stains around the neck. 

“Check for a pulse!” you shout, earning a sharp jab to the rib from Damian. You glare and rub your chest.

“Guys, I don’t wanna alarm you but I’m pretty sure there’s a decapitated head down here”

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Damian asks incredulously. Your skin drains of all color and warmth. 

“Do you want the good news or bad news?”

“That’s not-”

“Where in that pile of bloody clothes did you get good news?”

“Good news is he’s not here,” Jon says, eyes sweeping around.”Bad news, he’s actually real.”

“Stop messing around and get out of there, Kent!”

“Jon, come on! Fly or something!”

“My powers are going-” Jon jumps. But only manage to just fall back down. “I can’t fly.”

Damian groans. He pinches his nose and goes off to look for something to pull Jon up with.

“Why do you think your powers aren’t working?”

Jon shrugs. “Magic?” This place is cursed. 

“We are dealing with a ghost,” you shrug back. You all freeze. The sound of distant footsteps making your heart race.

“Dami!” you hiss, over your shoulder. 

“I can’t find anything!”   

“Wait,” you say, unfastening your arm and reaching down to Jon. Damian grabs hold of it with both hands and you two start pulling Jon up. 

The footsteps are getting louder, closer. 

"Hurry!” you hiss quietly. 

Your hearts are racing. 

You pull, Jon getting closer. 

He’s almost in arm’s reach. 

The man is getting closer. 

You can hear his breathing. 

You pull Jon up, feet kicking. You wrestle him into a hug with one arm, making a little happy squeal into his hair low enough that only they can hear. Damian nudges you with your arm. 

“Well that was scary,” Jon whispers into your shoulder. Damian smacks him upside the head. You laugh but cut yourself off when you see Damian stiffen. “RUN!”

You all scramble up and begin to dash away. You look back over your shoulder, machete winking at you, hockey mask visible in the dim light. 

You stumble, feet getting tangled in roots. You yelp,  bracing for impact and possibly dying.  You feel arms scoop you up. You squeak. “No one gets left behind, soldier,” Jon says grinning. 

“How are you still a goof when we’re about to die?” you laugh incredulously. 

“He clearly gets it from his father.”

“ Pfffft, probably or maybe it’s an alien thing.”

“Are you really gonna make fun of me, right now?” Jon protests, shouting over the rain. 

“You two! This way!” Damian points to a small hole in the hillside.

“I’m too tall for that!” Damian glares.

You snort. “Just duck.” Jon scowls at you then sighed. 

You all slide into a small crevice and hunched together. 

“What’s the plan?”

“Jon, are your powers working?”

“Kind of?”

“Ok, that’s one thing we have going for us,” Damian hands you a phone. “You call while we distract him." 

"Why do you have to distract him?" 

"Ask him yourself, (l/n).”

Your eyes sweep up to the tall figure. Your mouth goes completely dry. 

“Fuck." 

Jason brings his machete down in a swift arc light. You grab Damian by the scruff of his shirt. The machete embeds itself into the wall, getting caught in the process. Your moment of relief doesn’t last long when Jason lunges for you.  You scream as he catches your arm. With a soft click it detaches and you scramble away and out the hole into the pouring rain. He’s hot on your heels. You hear a loud thud. You look over your shoulder. Jon’s resting against the wall, head slumped. You see him throw Damian to the ground. You call 9-11 as you hurl your shoe at him. The dial tone is ringing. When you look up again, Jason is heading towards you. You stumble barefoot trying to get away. Predictably, you fall, foot catching on another tangle of roots.  

 “Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?”

“Please help,” you whisper as Jason raises your arm to the sky. Your life flashes through like a film reel. Your breath is caught. Lightning flashes. 

You watch the lightning cut through the heavens. The silver streak of light connecting might your arm and by extension Jason.  The arm explodes. Shrapnel flies everywhere. Jason bursts into flames. The smell of burning flesh cutting through the air. You watch in open-mouthed horror as another bolt of lightning hits. He falls body fried to a crisp. You wretch the smell still strong. 

"Kid! Kid! Are you ok?" 

"No…” you gasp, bile lining the back of your throat, “please,hurry. We’re at Camp Blood." 

You’re cold and wet and forced to huddle into one blanket since the officer who responded only had one on hand.  Damian is talking on the phone. It’s hard to make out amidst the pouring rain, so you settle in letting Jon rest his head on your shoulder as he drifts to sleep. The officer said the rest of the force is coming to collect the bodies. The camp is most likely gonna be shut down for the summer. You weren’t keen on spending the entire summer with your cousins. 

“I’ve informed father that you’re staying with us for the rest of the summer.”

“Informed?” you laugh, relieved, ”good luck telling Jon that.”

You both eye him. Jon snores into your ear and you can’t help but smile. “He’ll be fine.”

Bonus

The map in Jon’s hands crinkles loudly as he shuffles through it trying to find the correct route. You know the route. You memorized it before you even set off. You did it instead of studying for finals. It was certainly more entertaining than studying for a US history final when you already knew it was just gonna be about the American Revolution, World War II, and probably the Vietnam war. You hold back the snicker threatening to spill from your lips when, with each crinkle of the Dollar Store map, Damian’s brow twitched. Yes, this was the purpose of the map. It was most certainly doing its job well. 

“You think they’ll still have the same dumb camp activities?”

“You say this like you weren’t squealing to try all of them.”

“Was not!”

“Dunno,  Jon,  Dami has a pretty good memory.”

Your car rolls to a stop in front of a cross-section. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel before you let curiosity override your self-preservation. 

“How did you convince Dami to come along?”

Jon tilts his head at you in question. “I didn’t,” he says slowly, “I thought you did.”

Your passenger goes deadly silent. You both twist your bodies to look at him. Jon gives him a knowing smile while you give him a reassuring one that says ‘it’s ok you can tell us’. Damian avoids all eye contact like the plague, glaring at the window like there’s a particularly interesting speck of dust on it.  

His eyes narrow. And you have the odd urge to follow his gaze. 

The trees shift. 

The pressure in the car builds. 

Jon’s laughter stalls. 

A shape flickers in the distance. 

Your ears pop.