Chapter Text
The first universe he stumbles into is nothing short of a wasteland.
Every other building is in shambles, and those that remain functional are boarded up and graffitied with threats. Jason had passed what looked almost like an attempt at a shelter, only to be overwhelmed by the stench of rot upon stepping inside. A gun had been pointed at him by the singular looter there, and he’d left before words or bullets could fly. There’s no point in killing someone who’s barely surviving anyway.
The amount of corpses he walks by and has to carefully step over—it’s upsetting for even someone like him to see. Many are gory messes. Others look as though they died simply of illness or starvation. He double-checks that his filters are working, just as he kneels down to inspect one in particular.
There’s trails of blood stained down their cheeks and chin, sourced from the eyes and mouth. Their body is a contorted mess, resembling something not quite human, and he finds the next several corpses in similar states.
Something like fear curdles in his gut. But—
Just a coincidence. This universe is over a decade behind. It can’t be.
He’s distracted by a scream of rage.
“Put him down!”
A kid.
He isn’t quite as careful about the bodies, then, and only feels a little bit of guilt when bones give beneath his boots here and there—he’s moving too fast, acting too fast to even think about it for more than a split second.
He skids to a halt in front of an alley, hand hovering over his holstered gun. There, he sees a man looming over a kid who looks like he’s barely restraining himself from launching his whole little body at the thug.
The man is holding what looks to be an eerily calm toddler up in the air, a knife to the poor little boy’s throat. “Listen, kiddo, you just gotta—”
Jason doesn’t let him finish. “Hey!”
The knife is pulled a safe distance away, and the man looks over at him. “Wh—”
Perfect.
Jason shoots the fucker between the eyes.
The little boy drops, but, as he had been banking on, the other kid—maybe his brother?—catches him and holds him close, which is when he finally starts crying.
Jason tucks his gun away and raises his hands in a gesture of peace as the older boy stares him down, suspicion sharpening his blue glare. There’s no mistaking the relief, though.
“What if I hadn’t caught him?” the kid asks, instead of anything else.
“You care too much to let him fall.” It’s the best he can come up with other than just I knew you would.
The kid rolls his eyes, giving a few gentle bounces to the boy in his arms, calming him significantly. Then he walks up to Jason and meets his gaze with an undaunted mask. It nags at him, the familiarity.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Jason blinks. “What?” Not even a fuss?
The unamused expression he receives in response is honestly hilarious on a kid that can be no older than ten. “I can take a man with a knife,” he says simply, “not a gun. If I kick or hit you, you won’t feel a thing with all that padding and I can’t reach anywhere that it matters. If I run, you might shoot me in the back, and then Tim’s alone with you. I’ll take my chances that you mean well, but we’re out the moment you ain’t payin’ attention.”
Tim.
A picture is forming in his head.
“How’d you know I was gonna take you anywhere?”
This time, the kid just fully snorts. “If you weren’t, you’d be gone already. Ain’t adults meant to be smart?”
Okay. Yeah. He likes this kid.
“You got a name?” he asks, holding out a hand.
The boy eyes it warily as he shifts his brother(?) to his hip. “Just call me Jace,” he says, and takes it.
Jason might be fucked.
—
“You can ask questions in a sec,” Mystery Man (who may or may not be about to kill them) says as he fiddles with a funny-looking contraption on his wrist.
Jace is about to be a ‘little shit,’ as Willis used to call him, and ask something probably not very appropriate, when there’s a weird sort of whooshing sound and a flash of bright light. And then—
They’re standing in front of what looks a whole lot like the portals in different books and movies.
Jace, still hugging his baby brother as close as possible, closes his eyes and braces himself as he’s pulled through.
He keeps them closed for a while after that, feeling a little nauseous, and when he opens them, Mystery Man has put his guns on a table not too far away and is starting to unlatch his helmet.
Securing Tim in his arms, Jace runs.
—
Shit. Shit!
Jason tugs his helmet the rest of the way off when he hears the door slam open, tiny feet pattering down the stairs. Casting it aside, he hurries to follow. “Jace!”
Of course, his younger self doesn’t respond—in fact, the footsteps sound faster. Another door opens, and then they stop very abruptly.
Panicking, Jason hurries down the steps and sprints until he has to catch himself so as not to bowl over the two boys.
Jace has gone completely still, staring out at the buildings around them in utter disbelief.
—
This is—this is Gotham.
But it’s not his Gotham. So it can’t—it can’t be. This isn’t Gotham, this—
Everything is still together. There are no bodies on the ground, or, or—
Jace blinks wetness from his eyes. It doesn’t make sense!
He turns around, then, and stills again when faced with the funhouse mirror that’s standing behind him.
“What the fuck?”
Then he bursts into tears.