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“It is not that difficult to meet in the park.”
No one answered at first. Aconite was fine with that. Any excuse to leave these rotten-smelling streets. If his contact didn’t show in the next five seconds…
“Tsk.” A lone shadow finally moved, detaching itself from the back of the neon bar sign above. “The park is too muddy for my taste.”
Aconite crossed his arms with a scowl. “Deathwish.”
“Wolfsbane.” The agent landed in a puddle, making absolutely no noise. His face wasn’t visible beyond the black half-mask, and even one of his eyes was covered with a glowing orange sight, but his voice was filled with glee. “Oh, I’m sorry… Aconite.”
“Is there a reason you wanted to annoy me tonight, Grayson?” Aconite seethed impatiently, clenching one hand. He could sense sleeping roots deep beneath the sidewalk’s surface. They wriggled in anticipation, but bringing them up through so many layers of dirt, rebar, and concrete would take a lot of strength. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
Deathwish slid into the shitty light, allowing Aconite to see more than his glowing orange goggle. His visible eye was dangerously narrowed. “I can’t find Whisper.”
Aconite began to pace, grinding shattered glass to dust under his bare feet. After several long minutes of silence, during which Deathwish kept his peace, Aconite finally managed real words around the anger in his throat. “He’s not returning my messages. I knew something was up. When did you last hear from him?”
Deathwish shifted his weight from side to side. “Tuesday.”
“That was three days ago.”
“I can count, thank you.”
Aconite lunged at him, but Deathwish had expected that. He danced out of reach, bouncing off of a wall, a dumpster, and then a fire escape. There he stayed, laughing coldly. “Why the aggression?”
“Maybe I’m still grumpy over Ivy’s most recent stint in Arkham.” Aconite turned on his heel, pacing again. His touch was poisonous; Deathwish knew that. They’d known each other for six years--- Ever since the night Jason Todd had dug his way from his grave. One of Poison Ivy’s more lonely moments had lead her to seek “a life taken too soon” in the private graveyards just outside of Gotham. She’d never brought someone back to life before. She’d never tried. (Jason could still remember the green pulsing through him, the promise of new life growing through his stomach and twining around his heart and pushing out the worms…)
Anyway, the fresh-out-of-training teenage mercenary, overcome with curiosity (and probably a healthy dose of audacity,) had fought off the Batman so that Ivy could escape, zombie in hand. They’d been best frienamies ever since.
“I don’t trust you,” Aconite ground out, glaring at the orange gleam in the shadows above. “How do I know this isn’t a trap? Your old man’s still mad at me over last month’s misunderstanding.”
“Deathstroke doesn’t know I’m here.” Deathwish splashed back down, making noise this time. “Look, this isn’t my territory. I don’t know Gotham; that’s why I hired a guy in the chair for when I am here. Why would I use him like this? Deathstroke couldn’t care less about my… my friends.”
Aconite swallowed thickly. Yeah… like Whisper. The scrappy evil genius of a kid that, somehow, had built an entire network of almost-allies and not-quite-enemies in Gotham’s underworld. Ivy was quite fond, and Aconite… Jason… liked having a buddy to talk to on the quieter nights. A bird in his ear. A presence he didn’t have to worry about killing. “Fine. I know you didn’t kill him because you don’t do that shit; sue me for being suspicious.”
“I only make ‘em wish they were---”
“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” Aconite flexed his green-tinged fists, aching to feel something under his feet besides dead dirt. He was next to powerless here. “Why haven’t you asked anyone else?”
“I have. Penguin has his ear to the ground, Cheshire is keeping an eye on the black market, and Catwoman is already combing Bristol; she thinks that’s where he sets up shop. I don’t know anyone else.” Deathwish crossed his arms huffily. “Like I said… not my territory.”
“And you think I know where he is?”
“He spends all his time jabbering in your com.”
“He ‘jabbers’ in yours, too.”
“What are you, jealous? Stop trying to turn me into an even bigger asshole here; I’m trying to help him.” Deathwish mirrored Aconite’s wide stance. “C’mon, you listen more than I do. Think. Has he told you about anything or anyone new? Any fancy base or social activity or… hell, is he sick? He always calls in tonight. Always.”
“I’ve never seen him face to face.” Aconite ran a hand through his hair, pushing the white back into the dull green. “Okay… okay. He’s been really excited about some new experiments he’s running. Something about the missing link between… Batman… and his biggest fear? I don’t know; he was talking gibberish. It sounded like he wanted to run some tests on Batman.”
Deathwish snorted shortly. “It sounds like he’s got a---”
“If you repeat that stupid catch phrase one more time I swear to God---” Aconite took a deeeeep breath. All good things. His new greenhouse. The family of ducks in the park. Ivy’s most recent plan to restore Gotham to the state nature intended. Anything but the thought of their idiot genius all trussed up and tortured and screaming--- “He’d need somewhere to set up his stuff. Y’know, mad scientist shit. His house wouldn’t work; he has parents sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Put up or shut up, Dickhead.”
“There’s an old high school on the edge of Old Gotham. It’s condemned.”
“Most buildings are out there; it’s the perfect place to grow seed bombs without anyone noticing.”
“Yeah? It’s also the perfect place to hide a sussy lab you don’t want found.”
Aconite looked up, blinking. “Did you just say ‘sussy’?”
Deathwish’s visible eyelid wrinkled. “It’s a start.”
Aconite knew as soon as he stepped past the rusted door that something was amiss. The building around them was dead. Like… dead-dead. There was no light, no noise, and as far as he could tell, only one route of running water. Plants had started to grow up the walls, taking back what was theirs, but they hadn’t stretched far enough to make any difference in the level of abandonment. Nature’s grasp was slow-moving that way. “You see anything?”
Deathwish slunk in behind him, glancing around. “There’s a heat signature on the third floor.”
“He likes it up high.” Aconite padded softly across the broken tiles, hopping up the first staircase on the left. “Is he injured?”
“How the fuck would I know?” Deathwish thumped after him, unbothered about stealth. After a stiff silence, he finally admitted, “The signature is… off.”
“Off?”
“You seem to---”
Aconite stopped in his tracks on the landing of the third floor. “Shhh.”
Deathwish cursed lowly as he bumped into Aconite’s back. “What?”
“Shhh!!!” Aconite held his hand out, straining to catch it over his thundering heartbeat. “You hear that?”
The air hung heavy for exactly two seconds before a hair-raising shriek echoed off the ceiling.
“Yeah, I hear it,” Deathwish snapped sardonically, ducking past Aconite’s guard with his rifle already raised. “HANDS--- Whisper?”
Aconite skidded in behind him, scanning quickly. A low-ceilinged floor, tables upon tables of lab equipment, broken glass, bubbling vials--- and a dark shadow in the corner.
Deathwish lowered his gun into the ready position. “Holy SHIT.”
“Oh my God.” Aconite moved very carefully between rows of experiments, trying not to touch anything. “Whisper? Tim?”
“Glass.” Deathwish gestured with his gun to a mess on one of the tables. “It looks like something overheated or exploded. He must have cut himself; he got the formula in his blood.”
The creature in the corner snarled as Aconite approached, baring his teeth. Beneath the flared wings, the kid was achingly small. His yellow eyes tracked Aconite’s every move.
“Hey.” Aconite crouched down, tone softening. Years of Robin training, skills he’d considered long buried, gently surfaced in his victim-comforting voice. “Hey, Timbo; it’s me. It’s Wolfsbane. You remember Wolfie, right?”
The wings lowered enough for Tim’s pointy-eared head to peek out. His wide mouth struggled to form the word. “Woooooolf.”
“Yeah.” Aconite grinned with the force of his relief. Tim was still in there. “Yeah, it’s Wolfie. Y’know I hate that name, you little shit.”
Tim’s wings relaxed by fractions, but as soon as his gaze snapped to Deathwish, he bristled again. That garbled shriek rang out, next, and wow, it was deafening this close. Aconite plopped back onto his ass, winded.
“Yeah, fuck you too,” Deathwish answered tersely.
Aconite rubbed his ear, scowling, and crept away before standing. “Now is not the time to be emotionally constipated, asshole.”
“I’m emotionally constipated?”
“Take the mask off; you’re scaring him.”
“I like my facial features to not look like these walls, thanks.”
“Look.” Aconite reached out to grab the idiot’s neck, but missed. “He’s not wild, he’s scared. Wouldn’t you be if your body was forced through… through that? I’ve seen this once before; you lose advanced cognitive functions the longer it lasts, and he’s already been turned for who knows how long, so drop your damn tough-guy act for half a second to comfort the literal only person who puts up with us on a nightly basis, okay?!”
Deathwish unlatched his mask with a hiss, sighing. A large white gash ran across his mouth. Aconite had never seen that before. “Fine. What are you gonna do?”
Aconite turned towards the door, swallowing his fear. “I’m gonna get help.”
The front door looked exactly the same.
Aconite didn’t muster up the courage for the front door. He traveled to the back. The grass writhed nervously in the footprints he left through the yard, like even the ground could sense his fear. The what-ifs of this situation were getting louder, and Aconite wasn’t confident in his ability to follow through at this point. What if he got sucker-punched? That would be the best case scenario. What if he got turned away? What if he got a disappointed look from his old man? What if he got a disappointed look from Alfred?
Three deep breaths preceded trying the servant’s entrance. It was unlocked.
Jason crept inside with his heart in his throat. It was unnerving how soothed the smells made him; the cleaner Alfred still liked to use, the lingering scent of Earl Gray tea, the gently wafting aroma of the orchid blooming in the windowsill. Jason had never been able to smell it before, but now he could sense every part of the plant, even its roots. He could see the veins under the petals’ surface, gently glowing with life. He reached out, brushing one of the flowers with his fingertips. The struggling plant visibly eased, brightening, and stretched to meet his hand.
“You always did have a green thumb,” a quiet voice murmured.
Jason swallowed thickly before turning around. “Alfie.”
“Lad.” Alfred moved into the room with a soft smile. He was wearing a bathrobe instead of a suit, and his mustache was uncombed. He sported a pair of bunny slippers on his feet; the pair Jason had given him as a joke eight years ago. (Geez… He KEPT those?) “How may I be of service tonight?”
“Don’t touch me.” Jason moved around the island to stay away. “Poisonous. A friend of mine ran into some trouble. I need an antidote.”
Alfred’s eyebrows raised. “Is this… friend of yours… involved with the wrong sort of people?”
“He’s just a kid,” Jason pleaded softly. “He got ahold of the Manbat formula, Alfie. He’s into some pretty dangerous stuff, but it bit him in the ass this time; it was an accident. He needs help. Please.”
Alfred’s shoulders softened. “Come along then, lad. You’ll need to talk with the resident chemist in this house.”
Jason padded after Alfred’s retreating footsteps, taking deep breaths. He was so focused on the task of staying calm that he almost didn’t notice stepping into the library until Bruce shot to his feet, book in hand. “Aconite.”
Jason crossed his arms defensively, glancing at the roaring fire first, then the small kid in the armchair. The kid stayed where he was, tensely coiled, and sneered. Jason sneered back. “Hey, old man. Brat.”
“Alfred?” Bruce carefully set his book down. He looked ready to pounce, but his expression was… fractured. Jason had never seen that look before. Not on that face. “What is this?”
“Master Jason has come to me with a matter that requires your urgent attention,” Alfred said smoothly, unruffled by the bathrobe or the slippers. “I expect this exchange to be amiable seeing as the servant’s entrance has been used.”
Wait, was that code? Bruce’s eyes relaxed, combing every detail of Jason’s green-skinned face. “I see. Thank you Alfred.”
Jason scowled harder. “I need the Manbat antidote. A friend of mine got into a little accident.”
Bruce moved very slowly past, taking care to give Jason plenty of personal space on his way to the Batcave. “I see. How long has he been turned?”
“I don’t know.” Jason’s throat threatened to close up. “He… He stopped communicating with us a few days ago. Three, maybe three.”
“Us?”
“Us, his friends.” Jason chuckled darkly. He tried to ignore the cold chill as they descended into the ground. This place was even more dead than the house upstairs--- All he could feel was the moss growing undisturbed in the deeper corners of the cave. “The only family he has, really.”
Bruce hummed quietly as he pulled on a pair of gloves, moving through the walk-in fridge where the antidotes on file were all stored. “I know a kid like that. He comes over for tea on Fridays. Sometimes crepes on Sundays. He likes Alfred.”
Jason’s throat did the thing again. Was that what the kid got up to during his “time off”? “Sounds like a nice time.”
“It’s… not the same.” Bruce kept his back turned, clearing his throat. “Nothing will ever… replace…”
Jason wanted desperately to be somewhere else, anywhere else, but his feet wouldn’t move. It was like he’d grown roots to the cold Batcave floor. “Yeah?”
Bruce finally came back out, eyes shining with emotion, and moved closer with a vial in hand. “I… I missed…”
Jason jerked away, horrified, as pale fingers brushed his cheek. “What are you doing?! My skin is toxic; I’ll poison you!!!” (Batman knew this; they’d battled before; what the hell was he---)
Bruce’s forehead softened. “Jaylad… no. I’m immune.”
Jason stared at him wide-eyed, trying to compute. “I… what?”
“Immune.” Bruce reached out much slower this time, cupping Jason’s face. His hand was so warm--- “After our first… encounter… I… exposed myself regularly. It takes time to build an immunity, but it’s possible.”
Jason scoffed derisively, but he couldn’t force himself to pull away. “You repeatedly poisoned yourself with wolfsbane? Figures. You wanna land a punch without having to worry about your health, right?”
Bruce laughed bitterly, stepping closer. “Does this feel like a punch, Jaylad?”
Jason melted into the hug with pitiful ease, trembling head to toe. He hadn’t felt… When was the last time someone had…? Besides Ivy… “I don’t…”
“I’m sorry.” Bruce cupped the back of Jason’s head, rubbed circles into his back, and held him. “I don’t know… how else to say it.”
Jason slowly brought his arms up, wrapping them around Bruce’s back. “You… You built an immunity… for a stupid hug?”
“I hoped… that is… I assumed…”
“Dad?”
Bruce’s grip spasmed. “Yes?”
Jason buried his face against the warm skin of Bruce’s neck, effectively hiding his tears from exactly no one. “Shuddup.”
“Finally!!!”
Jason glanced wildly around the room, vial in hand. He could see the Manbat-shaped shadow in the corner, now hunched over a skimpy pile of old clothes, but no Deathwish. “Uh… Dick?”
“Here.” A hand stuck out from behind leathery wings, waving. Tim-Bat grumpily stuffed the hand back underneath him, chirring.
Jason crouched a few feet away, peering under the tented wings with a huge smirk on his face. “You… uh… You alright there, partner?”
Dick yanked an old sock from his hair, glowering. “He’s sitting on me.”
“I can see that.”
“He’s nested with old clothes to self-soothe.”
“I can see that, too.”
“He thinks I’m his baby or something.”
“No… really?”
“Oh my God, what do you want me to say? PLEASE?”
“Manners go a long way.” Jason held up the vial, smirking. “Are you ready, Tim?”
At the sight of the antidote, Tim shrieked like a banshee, launching himself off of Dick to careen across the room. His wingspan did not fit the nine-foot space; ceiling tiles crashed down, carefully arranged equipment slid off tables, and glass broke everywhere. Jason ducked away from the action, cursing, and raised his fist. The tree outside bent at his command--- He’d touched it on his way into the building; it was ready for him--- and broke through the windows with its long limbs. Tim-Bat made a dive for open air, but the branches caught him, tangling him up in creaking wood. He kept shrieking as he struggled. The soft membrane of his wings tore on the bark.
“Shit---” Dick scrambled up from the pile of abandoned clothes, gun in hand. “You’re hurting him!!!”
“Would you rather he get away?!” Jason ducked one of the clawed legs. “I can’t get close; calm him down.”
“Calm him down?!”
“Yes!!! You’re the baby chick, right?! Do the cuddle thing!!!”
Dick slid into an opening while Tim’s attention was on Jason, climbing hand over hand up the swaying branches until he reached the creature’s head. Tim snapped at him fearfully, but Dick, in one genius move, flipped under his guard--- and tucked himself under Tim’s chin, out of snapping range. “Hey, buddy, hey… I’ve got you… I know it’s scary right now, but you’re safe; we won’t hurt’cha…”
Jason crouched in the shadows of a table, silently marveling. Tim’s furry chest heaved with the remnants of his fear, but his struggles slowed. Dick stroked the hair on his nape, murmuring sweet nothings under his breath, and a quiet hesitant chirr issued from Tim-Bat’s mouth.
Now or never.
Jason crept forward, vial behind his back, and held his other hand out. “I know you’re in there, Timbo. It’s just me. It’s just Wolfie, remember?”
Tim’s wide yellow eyes zoned in, but he didn’t try to escape this time. (How could he? His wings were ruthlessly snagged on tree branches. There was nowhere to go.)
“There he is,” Jason murmured encouragingly. He could see a spark of intelligence in those eyes. Tim wasn’t gone--- just trapped. “We’ve got you, buddy. We care about you, okay? We wanna help.”
Dick nodded emphatically, clinging to Tim’s body with all four limbs. After a long minute of hesitation, Tim shuddered, going limp. Jason didn’t waste time leaping up the branches, leaning as far as he could from as far a distance, and shooting the vial into Tim’s neck.
The transformation looked… painful. Dick dropped away just in time to avoid an eardrum-splitting scream, and Jason tumbled to the ground, waving his hand. The tree branches untangled, retreating. By the time their captive had dropped to the floor, only his pointy ears remained. Then… just as quickly as it had started… it was over. Tim sprawled on the broken floor, shirtless, cut up, and bleeding. The first sound that broke the ringing silence was a soft little sob.
Dick slid over on his knees, gently scooping the kid into his arms. “Hey, hey, shhhhhhh… It’s alright. We’ve got you, Tim. You’re okay now; you’re safe.”
“You… you… came,” Tim gasped into Dick’s shoulder, curling into the older boy’s hold like he could fuse himself to the comfort.
Jason crouched nearby, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry it took us so long. We’re not used to… uh…”
“Successful rescue missions,” Dick finished solemnly. He tried to smile at Jason. It looked wrong with the scar stretching across his face.
“Clumsy,” Tim mumbled tearfully, shaking.
“This would have been easier if we were…” Jason trailed off. How the hell was he supposed to finish that sentence? “Family”? “Brothers”? “Friends”?
“Responsible,” Dick filled in. He shucked his kevlar jacket, pulling it very gently over Tim’s shivering shoulders. “We’re… older. We should be keeping an eye on you. It’s sort of our job.”
“Why?” Tim slowly relaxed as Dick rocked him from side to side, turning big blue eyes on Jason. “Y’re… c-c-criminals. I’m… I’m nobody.”
Jason smiled crookedly. “You’re not just any nobody, kid. You’re our nobody.”
Hesitant, Tim pulled the jacket sleeve over his hand before reaching out. Jason reached back, pressing their fingertips together over the fabric, and tried not to cry.
“Okay,” Tim finally whispered. “Yours.”