Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When the mer-pup was born, he was given a name. A good, strong name, one belonging to a Great King of their great city. It was a popular name at the time, and his father had protested, wanting something more unique for his firstborn son, but his wife had insisted. Perhaps if the pup had grown up with them he’d have had his own opinion, but his name was lost to the currents a long time ago.

The first two years of the pup’s life were typical. His father was a palace guard and his mother stayed at home to look after him and his two older sisters, he would not know them long enough to learn their names—he would not know any of this long enough to remember where he came from. In future all he will know is the vague feeling of swimming free, something so impossible and immense to him that he believes he’d dreamed it.

it was no dream. For the first two years of his life, the pup was free.

And then he wasn’t.

The day the Human raiders attack is the worst day of his parents' lives. Three of their now four children had gone out to play, their eldest daughters insisting on bringing their little brother despite the fact he could barely swim on his own, swearing up and down that they’d keep him safe. Their mother had been amused, delighted that her children wanted to spend time together. She imagined how that might change as they grew, as their brother began to feel stifled by their babying. She worried for what might be said, what she might have to deal with. She shouldn’t have looked so far in the future.

The three pups are ambushed on the reefs outside the city, the first victims of what will be known as ‘the great sorrow’. Her eldest tries to fight off the attackers while the other runs with her son. According to the girls he cries so loudly it makes it impossible for her to hide, the humans find them easily. They take her son, they injure her eldest so horrifically the healers are unsure she’ll live for what feels like aeons. Her baby girl pulls through, one side of her tailfin lost, permanently disfigured, but alive.

Their mother sinks to the seabed and does not get up for days once they are all out of danger, mourning the loss of her first son. Their father takes days off to hand feed her, it’s the only way she will eat—the only way she’ll survive this, and he cannot raise their three children alone in the wake of this loss without his mate.

None of them ever recover from the loss of their son. While it is typical of their species to have at least five kids to form a proper pod, their mother cannot bear the thought of having another, not when her little one is still out there.

The patrols search, and they discover that the babies (babies, because they only took babies) are now on land. There is no hope for their return, not when their city is made of only tailed mer, and the legged mer closest to them are hostile. Their babies have been taken where they cannot possibly follow. They are Lost.

She knew that, but it still cements in her that she will never again carry, even as her mate’s family gently pushes for an heir. Her son is Lost, and there will never be another.

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The pup does not remember any of that, and never will.

His first memories are of being in the cage. It’s more of a barrel, but the other creatures call their prisons cages, so he learns to do the same. In time the memories of even this will go hazy, and he’ll forget most of the details, but they are his beginning.

He is smart for his age, he picks up their language quickly. It is not too dissimilar to the language he doesn’t remember, and there is not much else to pay attention to.

Later he will deduce he was in a ship, being illegally transported across the world to France. But then all he understands is that the legged mer took him from “his world” and are bringing him to another.

The mer goes through many worlds. The barrel on the ship is traded for a see through one in an exotic pet shop. It’s smaller than the barrel, his tail is always folded, he cannot move except to poke his head above water for inspection by the customers. It’s all very confusing, he just wants to leave, to swim, like in his dreams, even if he doesn’t really know how. He’d settle for just knowing where he is, what he is, who he is, but if he speaks they hurt him, and so he keeps quiet.

While it is a blink in his existence that he will eventually hardly remember, the time he spends trapped in that glass cage feels like forever. At one point one of the legged mer starts calling him something he learns is a name, but she is gone before he can ask her to say it while he is above water so he can hear her properly.

It’s soon after the she leaves that he is taken to another new world.

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For the four year old mermaid in the tank, the world was big enough he could touch one end with the pointed edges of his tailfins and the other with the tips of his fingers. It wasn’t much deeper either, the fact he could stretch at all was thrilling, and they didn’t punish him when he trilled his happiness. The legged mer that poked at his glass and gave him fish and an assortment of strange meats didn’t ask much of him, and he was content with that.

It was boring, and a little lonely, but they were nice to him. Back at the shop there had been others like him, and they’d learn to play games by blowing bubbles and swishing their fins. Now there is no one but the legged mers, who don’t hurt him but don’t play with him either.

He almost can’t believe his senses when he’s moved to a larger world, so big he can move around almost as freely as in his dreams. It's not all for him of course, he’s only allowed in there sometimes, and all he has to do to keep the space is learn a few tricks. It wasn’t a word he knew, but they were patient and so kind, and fed him if he did well, and eventually he could fly! Sometimes they even pet his hair, spoke to him for no reason, kept him company without hurting him. He liked his new world.

They moved around a lot. He never saw when they did but the feeling of being on a truck was the same as that of a ship for a mer in a tank. But despite the constant moving, they were always in the same place when he ‘performed’. He wondered if the legged mer ever got frustrated trying to outrun it, but they seemed happy every time he saw them.

Different legged mer would come to watch him fly when he was allowed into the bigger world. He loved the way people looked at him, smiling and laughing and clapping in the way he’d been taught meant they were pleased, that it made them happy to watch him. That made it worth all the training and the difficult tricks and harsh landings. It even softened the blow every night when he had to be returned to his smaller world. If this was what he was going to do forever and ever, he would be content with it.

But bad luck is his oldest friend, and it catches up to him eventually.

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The mer is six when everything changes.

It’s a ‘witch’ who does it to him. He sees her at his performance that night, she does not smile or clap or laugh like everyone else, and seems rather unimpressed. It makes him upset, but this is hardly the first time someone has looked at him disapprovingly, so he lets it go in favour of thinking of his next show.

She does not let herself be forgotten.

The witch shows up to his tank in the dead of night and whispers a few words that have burning pain searing through his body, until he chokes and coughs and suddenly water is stifling, and he can’t breathe. She seals away his fins and gills and gives him the skin and lungs of a normal human (not ‘legged mer’, legged mer can breathe in water, and evidently he can’t anymore). She neglects to fix his vocal cords, but that hasn’t stopped him from mimicking human speech before.

The Humans are more than suprised when they find a shivering naked boy crying on the floor outside the tank their expensive hard-working merman used to sleep in. They don’t really know what to do with a random human child, they agonise over who they should turn him over to, what magicians they could hire to fix him this impacts their profits, the merman was a significant draw, and they can’t afford another, but they rule out the possibility of curse-breaking it’s not in the budget. They debate dropping the child in the nearest orphanage, but the trapeze artists offer to make him part of their act.

The trapeze artists—John and Mary Grayson—give him a name, “Richard” and they start calling him their son. He’s upset about it at first (it’s a lie, why are they lying?), but when he sees how much it saddens them when he pulls away, he begins to lean into it.

Learning to walk is harder than swimming. Sometimes it feels like all he can do is fall because of how heavy he is. The air is so heavy, the human’s world is so oppressive and cold, why can’t he just go back in his world where it’s light and floaty and everything is as its always been—

The Graysons—Dick’s (a ‘nickname’, they tell him. Why would they give him one name just to call him another?) parents teach him lots of things about the human world, including a few different languages and of course, what they do as part of the ’circus’. When they tell him they’re called the flying Graysons his eyes light up. He didn’t think it was possible to fly in this heavy, overbearing world.

But they do it, and its incredible, and they offer to teach him too! They can’t bring back his old world, but with them guiding him, the new world isn’t all that bad.

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Over the next four years he becomes embarrassed by how ignorant he was. How could there be a whole planet out there he didn’t know about? How could he let himself be confined when there was so much out there to live for?

Dick’s mom and dad smile and hug him as he asks them why he was locked up for so long if he had a brain and feelings like them. Their answer is, “you didn’t, silly! Mer can’t think properly, they’re animals, like Zitka. Zitka can’t roam around freely, can she? That would be a bit funny!”

It makes sense at the time. He only became smart when he got legs after all. And so he lets it go.

Maybe if John and Mary Grayson had lived a little longer, Dick would’ve been able to confront them about that. Maybe they’d learn with the new research that found Mers on the intelligence levels of humans, if not significantly higher. Maybe they’d have apologised profusely and held him tight, and become activists to advocate for the new laws that came into effect when Aquaman used his influence to outlaw mer-trafficking across the Americas and eventually the whole world. Maybe they wouldn’t believe it to protect their perception of the past, and he’d have to beg and plead with them to even accept a modicum of error in their views, “If I was an animal meant to be in a cage, could you not have released me back to where I came instead of displaying me? Did Zitka deserve to be whipped and torn from her mother as a child? Did I deserve that? Did my real family deserve to lose me? Can you accept that at the very least, what happened to me was animal cruelty?”.

But he would never get that chance, as we all know. Because when Dick is nine years old, they fall.

They fall because the rope was tampered with oh my god who did that why would they do that why are they falling it's so high, and for a split second in his panic, Dick’s mind calms as he remembers there is a pool, they will fall in the water and the act will be ruined and everyone will be upset and it’ll hurt like hell like it always does, but they’ll be fine.

And then they’re not. They fall and there’s no pool, because they are not mers, and neither is he, and he hasn’t been for a long time. Dick’s family is dead, and he is alone again, in a much bigger world where his future is more uncertain than ever.

This is where Dick’s life as we know it begins.

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Being adopted by Bruce Wayne is scary.

He may have visited so many worlds with the circus, but he’s never been part of a singular world that is so large. The manor on its own is so expansive he gets lost regularly. He can’t imagine living here so long he’ll know it off by heart.

Those first few months are a limbo, trying to avenge his parent’s murder, the awkward interactions with Bruce, meeting the Batman, finding out Bruce is the Batman! Holy plot twists!, becoming Robin, bringing his parent’s killer to justice with his new guardian by his side. It feels good, it happens so fast he honest-to-god forgets that he’s hiding anything at all.

When he first comes to live with Bruce, he considers telling the man what he is, but he can’t trust him. Especially not with what he knows about the treatment of mers, particularly by rich men (not like it was any better anywhere else, but he knew what they liked to do to them. He’s heard some of them have eaten mer tails like fish meat at fancy parties). But after the whirlwind few months that ends with the beginning of his legacy as the first ‘sidekick’, he honest-to-god just…stops thinking about it all that much.

Dick is cursed human. He likely will be for the rest of his life, and of the life he remembers, he’s spent more time human than anything else. He’s never swam free, he has no culture or family to fall back on other than that of John and Mary Grayson and Haly’s Circus. For all intents and purposes, he is human, there’s no need to overcomplicate things in this new exciting life of his by burdening Bruce with the knowledge this child he’s so graciously taken in is not what he says he is.

And Dick is fine with that. He barely even thinks about his tail, or reaches up to feel where his gills used to be (a habit he never shakes, one pointed out by everyone who’s ever been close to him. It makes him panic every time), or spends a little too long at the bottom of a pool as if being there long enough will cause the burn in his lungs to stop—

But other than those moments, he genuinely forgets he had anything other than two legs, that his skin wasn’t always so neutral, that his birthplace is not the rickety caravan of Haly’s circus. Dick is human, even if he hasn’t always been.

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When Batman finally tells Robin about the other Justice League members, Dick is stuck on the existence of Aquaman for weeks.

He knew there was at least one underwater city, it was an open secret at that point, and he had to have come from somewhere, but hearing there were dozens—whole kingdoms underwater— filled him with awe.

Were his original parents down there somewhere, thinking him dead? Had they given him up, were they forced? Did they fight tooth and nail to save him? Was he gone when they woke up? As the years passed it seemed more and more likely he’d never know. There were so many mers with him at the shop, and clearly the ocean was a vast, populated place. It would be difficult to find them even if he wanted to, and he wasn’t sure he did.

But just the idea of a superhero mer, even if a legged one, is awe-inspiring to him. Bruce takes his interest as a result of his love of mermaid stories, Dick doesn’t correct him. His secret doesn’t feel as big of a deal anymore, now that Bruce has a friend who’s a mer and hasn’t spoken ill of him, but it feels almost too late to reveal himself now, so he leaves it be.

Dick signs all the petitions, and when he’s a little older—twelve—and he’s given access to social media in an official capacity, he makes his stance on the bills to prevent mer-trafficking as clear as possible, throwing his massive allowance behind charities and protestor bails and organising rallies and marketing campaigns. Bruce finds it amusing he’s so dedicated to the freedom of mers just because he loved the stories, he has a patronising smile on his face every time Dick declares Aquaman his favourite superhero, even though his room is full of Superman merchandise. (The Superman stuff is just to spite Bruce, of course. But he is Dick’s second favourite Hero by a very very close margin).

When mer trafficking is declared illegal in the Americas, Dick cries. When it’s declared illegal in Europe, he throws a celebratory Gala at Wayne Manor attended solely by charity organisations and protestors, fully catered and with an open bar. It’s the first and only one he ever asks to host, and it’s the best one he attends.

And yet through all of it, even though he reads so many personal stories of mers being returned to their families, Dick keeps quiet and continues with his life. Because it isn’t as if he’s a proper mer anyway, why would his family want him back if he can’t even remember their language, if he doesn’t even have a tail? All the people who’ve been reunited are exotic pets or aquarium mers, or legged mers who didn’t even know what they were, just that their skin dehydrated easily and they could breathe underwater. He’s cursed, he can never return.

Dick hates that the thought comforts him.

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Being on the Titans is an experience. He meets Garth and Kaldur, he works with Aquaman more than a few times, and seeing them communicate underwater and bend the ocean to their will is so mystifying, learning about their culture through the scraps they offer every so often in conversation is exhilarating.

Dick considers telling any of them, even all three of them, before he ever seriously considers telling a member of his family. Being on the Titans is the most he’s thought about the fact he’s not human in years, but next to them, he feels inadequate. What is he even meant to say? I was a mer technically until I was six, but I never lived in the ocean or swam properly or engaged in your customs or anything. I just kinda had a tail and did some flips or whatever—” What were they supposed to say to that?

He considers telling Zatanna, or even Constantine at one point. That thought is shut down almost immediately, because what outcome is he hoping for? He doesn’t want anything to change, Dick likes living life as a human, he doesn’t know anything else. He certainly wasn’t a highborn or a legged mer, so there’s every chance that if the curse is dissolved, he’ll never be able to come back on land, and he doesn’t want that.

And what would he gain from telling the Atlanteans? They’d be eager to take him on the tour, show him everything he should have grown up with and just make him more unsure and guilty about his place in the world. No, Dick is perfectly content as things are.

Once he makes that decision at the age of sixteen, things become easier. He stops lingering on the idea of visiting Atlantis, stops over-analysing every story of trafficked mers returning home, and stops staring at the Atlanteans with a hunger every time they disappear beneath the waves. Of course he keeps supporting the charities, because he wants those who’ve made a different choice than him to have it fulfilled, but he disengages from the idea he’s anything but what he’s almost always been; Dick Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne, once Robin, now Nightwing. Former sidekick of Batman, leader of the Titans, hero of Bludhaven. Tails and cages do not belong in this new world he’s carved for himself.

But the past never truly stays buried, especially when his old friend bad luck has something to say about it.

Dick lasts all of twelve years in contentment with himself and his identity before everything goes to shit.

Chapter Text

Mission preparations at Titans tower are much less serious than at the Batcave, or even the Watchtower. Turns out having a bunch of teenagers in charge of a world-saving superhero team doesn’t result in the most strict protocols.

It’s been almost sixteen years since Dick and his closest friends started the Teen Titans and the team isn’t his to lead anymore. Most of the original Titans haven’t resided here in years, even if their rooms are perpetually empty and they visit so often the younger Titans have long since lost their hero worship. It’s common for the originals to pop by to hangout with each other, or just drop by when they’re in the area. It’s not like there aren’t enough living rooms and tvs to accommodate all of them.

The reason for this visit isn’t leisure though. They’ve got a mission that apparently requires “a lot of hands and good leadership” so quite a few of them are back for the week.

No matter who’s leading the Titans at the moment, it’s generally accepted that Nightwing leads when he’s involved, especially if he was invited. (There have been incidents where he’s butted in, and he finds they’re not as excited to have him guide them when they’re not the ones who asked) So he’s been sent all the files and their barebones plan for him to build off of.

Dick loves his job.

He’s interrupted from where he’s debating how many wingdings he should bring by Bart knocking at the door, “Briefing room, now”

Bart’s gone by the time Dick emerges in full costume and mask, but he expected that, the speedsters love to rock-paper-scissors for who has to zoom around alerting everyone. There's a perfectly good PA system, but whenever there’s more than one speedster on the tower it always ends up this way, for everything from cookies being done to movie nights to mission briefings, which is where Dick will be going now.

Despite how often he continues to return to the tower he feels the nostalgia in every hallway, in the ghost of every giggle and sob and yell that’s ever graced the halls. He hopes every Titan—his or otherwise—feels the same.

The “briefing room” is just a large open space with plenty of tables lining the walls and a massive holoscreen projector. It’s an older model they’ve been meaning to get updated, but it works just fine for situations like this. For regular Titans missions, they just meet in the living room, there's no point splurging on a new projector for a room they use every so often.

When Dick enters the room is pretty much empty. He doesn’t bother heading to the back of the room just yet, he has a lot of greetings to make.

Donna is the first to arrive, he octopus tackles her and only lets go when Wally rips him off into a mutually-aggressive hug. Garth and Kaldur walk in as Wally is updating Dick on his kids’ grades and they both pause to pull them into brief hugs and ask them about how the underwater world has fared since they last talked. Raven and Garfield come through the door next and Raven offers their group a nod and a smile in response to their enthusiastic greetings, immediately heading over to Donna, while Garr jumps onto Dick’s back, lively as ever. Cyborg appears behind them out of nowhere and nearly gives Wally a heart attack, making them all burst into laughter. When Roy and Artemis walk in they give their short greetings and Donna drags Raven and Artemis into the larger group despite their protests. The last of them to arrive is Kory, who’s eyes light up as she spots Raven and Donna (she used to look at Dick that way), and she ignores Roy’s vaguely hurt joke that ‘he missed her too’ in favor of slamming into the girls and declaring that they must hang out more.

The eleven of them loudly and excitedly fill each other in on the things they’ve missed, as if the group chat doesn’t have more than three hundred messages a day..

The newer titans filter in around them as they continue to laugh and catch up, and Dick excuses himself to the head of the room to start preparing the mission briefing and setting up all the holographic projectors.

Neither Tim or Damian is present despite their teammates being here, but Dick knew that. This was a pretty last minute call and there’s a bit of a crisis happening in Gotham. Dick had been there with them helping out when the call had come, and they’d voted that only one of them should go, and it should be Dick considering they’d requested the original Titans specifically, and when they requested the original Titans they were almost expecting him to be one of the ones to show up. Damian was very openly sulking about it and Tim was trying his best to hide how annoyed he was even though he was the one who suggested it.

All Nightwing has to do is clap his hands and the room falls silent. He smiles, he’ll never get used to that, “Thank you all for taking the time out of your schedules to help us with this mission.”

His teammates (because even though they rarely worked together, they were his) give him looks ranging from proud, to amused, to bored. Ah, how nostalgic.

“Before we begin I will quickly address that neither Robin or Red Robin will be joining us, Gotham business, you know how it is. Only one of us could make it out here on time and I drew the short straw,” he jokes, earning a few polite chuckles from the group.

“Now–” he claps his hands again and the holograms flare to life on the wall behind him, the blue light illuminating the faces of all the heroes in front of him. Moments like this, with a carefully thought out plan on his tongue and dozens of heroes relying on his words and leadership, fill him with pride. Moments like this solidify for him that there is nowhere else he’d rather be than right here, in his Nightwing suit in the tower he’d designed with his best friends in order to help defend the world. “Why don’t we jump right into it?”

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Dick hates his job.

The group of heroes zeta back into Titans tower a week later than expected (a total of two weeks on just one ‘simple’ mission) covered in guts and at least six different magic-infused spores. Half of them are soaking wet and the other half are covered in a black powder that looks vaguely like soot but definitely has arcane properties.

The mission has been completed, a job well done at the very least, but it’s hard to be proud when they’re tired and have injuries to tend to after their already sore bodies have to be subjected to the unrelenting pressure of decontamination showers. At least they have the luxury of putting off the mission-debrief until tomorrow morning. The younger bats tended to be more lenient than their mentor in that regard. Dick pitied the League.

Zatanna is waiting for them as they emerge with a floating tray of glowing blue potions in small glass bottles. Dick gives her a grin, “You got my message! Thanks for coming out so late, I’d give you a hug but—” he shrugs, gesturing to his blood and dust covered body. She shakes her head fondly, “Only you Nightwing, only you.”

Dick waves for everyone’s attention, “I know we’re all tired and gross so ill make it quick. I’ve called Zatanna for a magical decontam so you won’t need to use the showers and aggravate your injuries. It won’t clean your body but it’ll combat the effects of any substances—magical or otherwise—we’ve contracted tonight. Zatanna has access to Titans files and she's made sure it’ll be alright for all your biologies, but if you feel off let someone know. Take one of these with you on your way to your rooms.”

Dick sees half the room visibly brighten as they limp over and he feels warm. It may be the most cheesy hero quality he has, but making lives easier for his friends and coworkers is his favourite thing to do.

Donna pats him on the shoulder as she passes, “We’re meeting up in the old living room after we get cleaned up.” she’s not asking, and he doesn't intend to try and get his way out of it. As exhausted as he is, this isn’t a post mission catch-up, she wants to discuss what the fuck just happened. The mission shouldn’t have ended like this, either someone has seriously messed up or their intel was wrong. If Donna hadn’t called for a private debrief with the original Titans, Dick would’ve.

He nods, she smiles approvingly at his lack of challenge before grabbing a potion and heading for the elevators. Dick grabs one for himself and does the same.

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It may have been hypocritical of him to say to “report anything that feels off” when he doesn’t do it himself, but in Dick’s defense, how was he supposed to tell his symptoms were out of the ordinary?

After he’d gotten out of the shower he’d felt winded, like no matter how deeply he breathed he couldn’t take in enough air. When he’d looked into the mirror as he’d pulled on his clothes, his skin was a shade paler, just a little off, but not enough to cause concern. Dick struggled to walk down the hall towards the living room, a sharp pain shooting up each foot as he put his weight on it.

But how was he supposed to know that that meant the curse was wearing off? It felt like any other post-mission adrenaline crash. The pain could easily be from the non-stop fighting and some injury he hadn’t yet catalogued—and even if Dick had thought the difference was strange, his first thought wouldn’t have been oh my god the curse that I got when I was six years old that has no impact on my current life whatsoever and I haven’t thought about substantially for more than ten years may be fading!. No, he would’ve thought he was under some other curse, or poison, or having an allergic reaction to the potion before he even remembered that little detail.

So, he pushes himself towards their old living room without thinking about the pain, mind firmly on the matter at hand.

Everyone is already there when Dick enters, sitting around on the couch and floor in front of the TV nursing injuries or alcoholic beverages or both, chatting in low voices and dressed in pajamas just as he is.

Donna and Roy separate to make room for him on the couch but he waves them off and plops himself down cross-legged on the coffee table, carefully avoiding the assortment of beer cans and glasses around him. None of them blink an eye at his antics, continuing to chat as if there isn’t a pressing matter they should be getting to, as if they hadn’t just almost died because of some issue that is yet to be determined. They have all the time in the world to speak, it isn’t every day they’re all in the same room, Dick doesn’t feel the need to rush them along if all of the more serious members are so wrapped up in conversation and good company that they didn’t bring it up the second he walked in the door. He’s content to bask in the glow of most of his closest friends together, alive and enjoying themselves for a little while longer.

But the clock is ticking. His breathing will only worsen, and his scales are waiting just beneath their glamour, eager to show themselves off for the first time in twenty two years.

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Garth always finds he missed the Titans more than he thought he would.

Despite his status as one of the “first five”, he was never really a pivotal member of the friend group, or even the team. Before he tapped into his potential as a sorcerer and before Atlantean scientists had found a way to combat their constant drying-out when out of water, he wasn’t around much, and he had difficulty communicating with them with the language barrier. While he, Donna and Kory didn’t really get slang and popular metaphors for a while, the other two picked it up much faster because they at least had a comprehensive understanding of the English language to fall back on, and they were also just around more.

Even Kaldur wasn’t quite as on the outs as he was, Kaldur’s first language was English, he’d grown up on land for a good few years before he’d been returned to Atlantis, even he had a better leg to stand on when it came to becoming friends with the other Titans.

But for some godsforsaken reason, Dick Grayson kept pulling him into conversations. Dick is the one who stole Batman’s credit card and funded the research to make a functioning waterproof phone so Garth could be part of the grouchat, he’s the one who took the time to teach Garth the intricacies of popular phrases and their uses, and he’s the one who invited him to every hangout before he started just showing up automatically. Garth still doesn’t think he’s as close to everyone on land as they are to each other, but they still brighten when they see him, and are disappointed when he leaves, and ask about his kid with genuine interest, and worry for him when he’s on missions.

So yeah, Garth is one of the Titans, and he tries his best to come to every hangout because Roy will give him shit if he doesn’t, Kory is always very excited to hear about his family and Raven is quietly intrigued by the Atlantean approach to dark magic. He no longer feels like an outsider on the team, even if the team doesn’t technically exist anymore.

Maybe in a world where Dick Grayson wasn’t so persistent, Garth wouldn’t be at Titans tower trying not to fall asleep after a two week mission that really shouldn’t have gone on that long. He doesn’t know if he’d prefer that reality or not, but at least then he would be asleep by now.

“Okay but are we entirely ruling out the possibility that he’s been taken over by an alien parasite?” Wally interrupts the arguing, “Because we’ve seen weirder things, do you remember that time the Light controlled, like, the entire Justice League?”

“Yes! Because the idiot would’ve done more than just give slightly wrong info if he was under control–”

“We don’t know that!

“You’re acting like that’s all he did? What happened to the thing with the—”

“That was a heat of the moment mistake!”

“Okay guys maybe we should just—”

“No! If you think—”

Garth tunes it out, taking another swig of shitty land drugs (why is it liquid? Why does it taste like shit? Why would you bother ‘pacing yourself’ and subjecting your tastebuds to something so vile?) and surveying the room. He probably should have an opinion, as one of three practitioners of magic in their group, and maybe he would be if he wasn’t about to collapse. Why Dick allowed this is beyond him, the man looks so green he’s surprised he hasn’t thrown up or passed out already.

Actually, that isn’t normal. Garth squints at the oddly silent man on the coffee table.

Garth’s colour perception isn’t strong enough usually for him to see the vaguely off-colour shade of a sick light-skinned Human. Dick is straight up turning green green. How did he not notice it before-–how is no one else realising it? He blames the general tiredness and the fact most of them are halfway drunk (and maybe the fact there’s another perfectly normal supposed-to-be-green person on the other end of the couch for their off-kilter brains to compute)

“What are you even talking about—“

“He clearly sold us out to—“

“He's just a kid! Why are we—“

“I literally can’t hear anyone—“

“EVERYONE SHUT UP”

The room goes quiet. Garth doesn't think he’s ever raised his voice at them before. .

“One, Talking over each other is not going to do anything when we’re all drunk or half asleep. Two, I’m pretty sure Dick is poisoned.”

They all whip their heads around simultaneously to see Dick blinking back at them, “What?” His eyes are changing colour, the usual deep blue darkening, iris’ wider than normal. But that isn’t nearly as noticeable as the algae-green of his skin and the suddenly black, elongated fingernails.

Wally leans forward and gently grabs Dick by the shoulders like he's talking to a trauma victim, “You’re turning green.”

He blinks, looking at his arms in befuddlement, “I didn’t even notice?”

Zatanna starts laughing so hard she nearly falls off the armrest she's perched on, Artemis joining her, “How do you not notice your literal skin being a different colour?” she cackles.

Dick doesn’t seem so amused, his breathing is laboured, eyes dilated, legs shaking. Something is wrong. All of a sudden he chokes on air, clawing (when did he get claws) at his throat desperately as incisions begin to appear on the sides of his neck.

The amused atmosphere falls from the room instantly, glasses shatter and voices turn frantic as everyone reaches for their flailing leader at the same time.

“Oh shit—“

“Did he drink anything since he got here? Is it the alcohol?”

“What the fuck do we do?!”

Zatanna jumps up, “evomer revetahw esruc ro noitcilffa si gnisuac uoy niap”

Dick gasps harder, lips going blue even as the colour of his skin seems to deepen further. He’s on the floor now, in a blink Wally is too, hands hovering over him, “What’s happening? Is this a CPR situation?”

“No! He’s asphyxiating, are you stupid?” Artemis snaps, “can one of you magic fucks make yourselves useful?!”

Zatanna grabs Dick by the collar this time, “Esruc tfil! Eruc lla! Uoy era delaeh!” she throws spell after spell but nothing seems to take effect, in fact—

“Stop it!” Kory cries, “You’re making it worse!”

And he is getting worse. Garth realises with horror that Dick’s legs are fusing together. What kind of curse is this? He snaps his senses to each of the cups in the room, focusing on the chemical components, nothing is out of the ordinary.

Garth focuses back in, “None of the drinks here are poisoned, magical or otherwise”

“Then what the fuck is wrong with him?” Vic yells.

Dick’s eyes dart around, and then snap to Garth. He’s asking something, trying to make Garth understand. Of course the bat has worked out his own curse already. Garth doesn't understand why Dick is making eye contact with him of all people, reading emotions in people’s eyes is more of Raven’s thing, or even Donna’s. Why would Dick choose him?

“He’s taking a long ass time to pass out.” Roy snorts.

Donna glares at him, “He might be dying you asshole.”

Garth tries to think. Dick’s green, legs fusing together, scales are appearing, he can’t breathe, neat incisions on either side of his neck…

“Oh my gods we’re idiots,” Garth gasps out, “We need to get him in water right now.”

It’s a testament to how frantic they are that they don’t question him, and a testament to how inebriated and exhausted they were that no one thought that the scaly man with gills could be becoming Atlantean.

Wally speeds him over to the nearest bathroom with an actual bathtub, which happens to be Donna’s. In the two seconds Dick spent out of their sight, he’s finally passed out. Whatever Bat training there is for conserving air seems to only last so long. Wally and Roy proceed to open both taps as far open as they go and Garth makes eye contact with Kaldur before they both proceed to pull water from the taps, submerging Dick in seconds.

“He's still not breathing—why isn’t he breathing?” Wally grabs at Garth’s sleeves.

“Kaldur, what is he?” The other Atlantean gives him a confused look, “You know what I mean! What water can he breathe, where is his species from?!”

Garth never found it pertinent to know how to identify every individual species of mer. There are too many and the teacher for that subject was annoying. Water he knew, it was important to know that which you could control. You cannot manipulate what you don’t first understand, is what Atlan told him. Kaldur’s a nerd, he knows things like the distinctions in fin shape and oh my gods when did Dick get a tail—

“Atlantic Ocean, pretty far south, probably a couple hundred kilometres off the coast of the Mainland, Depth of around thirty to fifty metres”

Atlan bless Kaldur and his nerdiness.

Garth flicks his wrist and the salty smell of seawater floods the room as the water begins to change colour and composition.

Dick’s chest begins to rise and fall beneath the water as his gills flutter.

Everyone lets out a breath of relief, Donna and Kory fall into each other, Wally and Roy slump over the tub where they’d been poised.

“Sooo….” Gar pops his head up as a green monkey on Vic’s shoulders, “That probably wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Chapter Text

None of them are anywhere near well-rested or sober enough to deal with whatever the fuck just happened, so after setting up several magical alarms on Dick’s unconscious Atlantean body, they promptly pass out for at least sixteen hours (Gar lasts twenty three before someone thinks they should probably wake him up).

Dick still isnt awake when Zatanna goes to check on them, but that’s not cause for concern just yet. He was just as exhausted as them on top of whatever stress his body just went through, Raven predicts it’ll at least be another six hours before he wakes up, but he will wake up, and that's all most of them care about.

Once they confirm he’s out of danger, the next logical conclusion is to start trying to figure out what caused this little ‘H20: Just Add Water’ situation.

“This one?” Roy holds up a book questioningly, Raven floats it over to her and briefly scans the page, “No, onset is too fast” she flings the book into the reject pile without a second thought. Garth winces.

They haven’t found answers yet searching through the entirety of the Titans digital and physical libraries and the watchtower database—hell even googling isn't giving them any results

(“google? Really?”

“Hey I don’t see you coming up with any unique ideas”

“You're the first person in at least fifteen years to call googling something a ’unique idea’”)

“This one seems promising,” Artemis leans over to show Zatanna what she's found. Zatanna shakes her head, “Needs to be ingested. Good find though.”

Gar groans, dramatically sprawled over the carpet as a wolf(?), “This is going to take forever. Why don’t we just call the League?”

Roy rolls his eyes, “And tell them what? That we turned the golden boy into a fish?”

Kory sighs, slamming shut another book, “We aren’t making any progress. Perhaps Batman or even…” she hesitates, glancing at Garth, “Aquaman may have some insight?”

Garth is barely paying attention to the conversation. He’s been staring at the same line for twenty minutes with the memory of Dick’s eyes from last night playing on loop in his head.

Dick didn't take anything between the potion and his transformation as far as they can tell. Dick grasped what was happening unusually quickly while conserving air, even for a Bat. Dick’s first instinct was to look at Garth for understanding. Zatanna’s healing spells had made the situation worse.

Dick had a starry-eyed interest in Atlantean culture as a teenager. Dick had done everything he could to keep Garth in his inner circle. Dick could pronounce Atlantean words particularly clearly. Dick loved the ocean.

Dick hadn’t looked surprised beyond the initial alarm at being unable to breathe. Garth doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, and he isn’t going to be the one to tell everyone what he’s thinking but…

Well. He doesn’t think any of the other Titans will be finding anything useful in the files with the search terms they’re using.

Abruptly he realises Donna is looking at him, expecting an answer, “Sorry are you talking to me?” He says sheepishly.

Donna laughs, exasperated but fond, “Aquaman, Garth. You alright if we get him and Batman in here to help?”

Garth looks to Kaldur, speaking telepathically he asks, ”Am I correct in assuming you share my theory about what happened?”

Kaldur nods, ”That the form we know as Dick Grayson is not truly what he looks like? Yes. But I do not wish to be the one who tells them”

Garth tries not to laugh, ”Let Arthur deal with it?”

Kaldur smiles slightly, ”Let Arthur deal with it.”

Garth turns back to Donna, “Go ahead. The sooner we figure out what’s happened to Dick the better.”

Vic flicks his eyes back and forth, brow furrowed, “Are we just going to ignore that they had a telepathic conversation in the middle of our group discussion? We outlawed that shit years ago people, come on—”

“aaaaaand….sent!”

They all turn to look at Wally, who is proudly displaying his phone screen with the iMessage app open to ‘Moneybags’. The latest message simply says ‘You, Arthur, Titans Tower, ASAP. It’s Dick.’

Roy barks out a laugh, “Oh he’ll definitely think Dick is either dying or dead when he reads that.”

Wally grins, “That’s the point.”

Vic fist-bumbs him, Roy, Gar, Donna and Kory follow suit in quick succession. Garth laughs, he knew he liked these land-dwellers for a reason. Making life worse for Bruce Wayne is a pastime that transcends skin and scales.

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It isn’t until the zeta announces Batman and Aquaman less than three minutes later that someone remembers there’s a JLA founders meeting scheduled for right at that moment. Oops.

“What happened to Nightwing?” Batman enters like a storm, killing the mood and setting everyone on edge instantly. Despite how much they all love to mess with him, dealing with an angry Batman without one of his brood on your side is a daunting task, especially when they have bad news to give him.

Everyone looks at Wally.

“It's probably best if we just show you.”

As they all shuffle into the hallway, Arthur makes eye contact with Garth, ”What has happened? Why was I contacted?”

Garth lets amusement flitter through the connection briefly, ”I believe the younger Flash has already said it’d be best to just show you.”

The connection breaks, and Arthur noticeably turns to the only other Atlantean in the room.

It’s obvious from Arthur’s startled expression when he peeks through Donna’s bathroom door that he doesn’t get his answer from Kaldur either.

Batman isn’t an expressive man, but the aura of gloom around him lifts when he sees the rise and fall of his son’s chest. He stares at the mer in Donna’s bathtub, no doubt taking a second to comprehend the fact that his son is currently a fish, before he turns back around to face the nine other people awkwardly standing in Donna’s room, “Explain.”

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The Teen Titans who currently live in and operate Titans Tower are very confused when nine of the original Titans (who they believed had already left) drag Batman and Aquaman into a meeting room. No one bothers to explain it to them beyond, Nightwing is incapacitated magically. Batman is here to monitor the situation. They don’t ask why Aquaman is there, probably because they know they won’t get a proper answer.

“So” Wally forces a laugh, “you’d probably like a explanation—“

“Yes” Batman growls, “I believe I asked for one four minutes ago and I’ve yet to receive one.”

Garth sees Roy roll his eyes exaggeratedly, Vic scoffs. He quietly agrees with the sentiment, ”uppity motherfucker” as Zatanna would say.

Wally visibly holds back from giving him the finger, pausing a beat before continuing, “The short version is, during an informal mission debrief in the old Titans living room approximately 23 hours ago, Dick started turning green, and then couldn’t breathe. It took him getting scales and gills for Garth to realise what was happening, we got him in the Bath, he hasn’t woken up yet. Zatanna couldn’t detect anything in his system except the cure-all she made.”

“Hn” Batman growls, “Long version.”

Zatanna takes over, launching into a detailed explanation of the night and Dick’s symptoms that Garth doesn’t hear, because Arthur is immediately in his mind, ”And what exactly did you ‘realise was happening’?”

”That Nightwing was becoming a tailed mer?”

Garth could practically feel the eye roll, even without the broadcast of annoyance through the connection, ”Obviously. But there’s more you haven’t told them, I assume”

“If you want a clear answer, you must ask a clear question” Kaldur jumps in. Garth tries not to grin.

”If you had decided to listen to Zatanna instead of pestering us, you would know all the healing spells she threw at him when he was transforming accelerated the process.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering in the back of their minds, ”And it’s really Nightwing?”

Garth shrugged, ”Can’t rule out really good cloning, but his soul and aura are the same, Zatanna and Raven also see no differences.”

Arthur frowned, “I’m sure Batman will do his own testing anyway.” amusement flared from all three of them, a ‘mental laugh’ as Tula liked to call it. “But you two have come to a conclusion?” It's phrased as a question, but he already knows the answer.

”I’m curious about what conclusions you may have drawn, with your superior expertise.” Kaldur redirects smoothly.

”Oh, don’t flatter me. You two are grown heroes, Garth, you are a seasoned sorcerer, you were here when the incident occurred. It’d be an affront to my training if you hadn’t talked it through already”

Garth groans internally, “Look. We all know what the signs point to, none of us want to take the responsibility of telling Batman his son is a different species if he didn’t already know. We have a stalemate.”

Arthur smirks, ”Ah! So your theory is that Nightwing was originally Atlantean? How peculiar!”

Kaldur laughs mentally, Garth sends betrayal down the connection, ”Oh fuck you two. Arthur, you owe me for last month in Shayeris anyway, I’m not doing this.”

Arthur begins to retort, but is interrupted by the sharp, annoyed voice of Cyborg.

“Okay. Are we seriously going to just ignore the fish having their telepathic conversation in the corner?” Vic says in disbelief.

Kory nods, “It is incredibly rude. There are rules against telepathic communication within these walls.”

Batman raises an eyebrow, “If you have a theory please feel free to share with the class.”

The bastard already suspects it, of course he does. Garth just stares at Arthur pointedly until he sighs and turns to face the group, “Don’t play coy Batman, you’ve come to the same conclusion we have.”

Batman just stares at him. Yep, definitely the man who raised Nightwing for eleven years.

Arthur sighs, “If there truly was nothing else in his system but Zatanna’s potions, and her spells just advanced the transformation, the most logical theory is that this is Nightwing’s true form and he was magically sealed or cursed to appear Human.”

The atmosphere is solemn. Everyone had at least thought of it, but no one wanted to be the one who brought it up. Except—”What the fuck?” Gar’s eyes practically pop out of his head, “Did any of you know this?” he looks at all the Titans in the room, “Did you?” Batman doesn’t even flinch, but they could all tell the confusion and surprise at the sight of his son’s Atlantean body was more than just shock at seeing the transformation. No one knows about this as far as they’re aware. Garth has no doubt Batman has already messaged every Bat that still responds to him to ask if they know anything about their older brother that he doesn’t.

“We can’t be sure,” Batman states, voice level as always, “Has anyone checked for residual curse magic on his body?” he looks to Zatanna, but it’s Raven who answers, “Nightwing has always had a powerful glamour in place.” When blank stares meet her words, she sighs, “A glamour is a magical disguise, usually used to make non-human entities appear and act human. Nightwing has always had one, a pretty powerful one too, but it was made to look inconsequential. I never thought much of it because the spellcaster didn’t want anyone to.”

Vic threw his hands us, “And you didn’t think to mention this before we spent five hours searching books?”

Raven shook her head, “I didn’t even think of it until just now. I suspect the repelling nature of the spell is wearing off.”

Zatanna seems taken aback, “I never even noticed it.” Garth hadn’t either, he can feel Arthur burning holes in the side of his head, he doesn’t turn. Raven shrugged, “It was dark magic. More my realm of expertise.”

The magician’ eyebrows furrow, “Glamours are neutral magic, for this one to be dark…” she trails off. Raven nods, Garth finds himself doing the same. Batman sighs, “Not all of us are intimately familiar with the inner-workings of the mystic arts.”

“For a glamour to be considered dark magic, it’d have to be combined with other spells, and also ill-intentions. Long-lasting spells don’t tend to stay intertwined with one another unless the spellcaster is particularly powerful.”

“Of the dark practitioners of magic I know, villain or otherwise, there’s only fourteen, maybe fifteen, I think could pull something like this off.” Raven adds. Zatanna hums in agreement.

Garth can think of only two other Atlanteans (excluding himself) who were capable of something like this, in a way he’s glad dark magic isn’t as intensely studied underwater.

Batman is definitely sending all this information for Oracle to research as they speak. (Garth wonders what Barbara is up to, he hasn’t talked to her in a long time)

“At least it’ll be easy to find whoever did this,” Kory shrugs, “Even if they’re difficult to deal with.”

“That confirms it, then?” Roy jumps in, “Nightwing is really….what word do I use here? Atlantean? A merman?”

“Either is fine” Kaldur says, “Atlantean, mer, tailed mer, merman. They all describe Nightwing’s current—” he pauses, “or rather, his original state.”

“Can we stop calling him Nightwing as if everyone here doesn’t know his identity?” Wally huffs. He is ignored. The conversation peters out.

“So…..what now?” Victor asks, after an extended period of silence. “How do we change him back?”

“What if he doesn’t want to be changed back?” everyone turns to look at Artemis, who jumps at the sudden attention, “I don’t know! Maybe he missed his tail or whatever? Maybe he didn’t think there was a way to go back and he’d like it better if he stayed like this.”

Before any of them have time to touch that with a ten foot pole, Donna knocks on the doorframe “Nightwing’s awake”

||◼️💧⬛️🐟🖤🐟⬛️💧◼️||

There is not enough room in Donna’s bathroom for this. Four of them (Him, Wally, Donna and Roy, technically five if you count Gar as a literal fly on the wall) managed to push ahead and cramp themselves in, but the doorway is (rudely) blocked by the brick wall of Batman and Arthur, while everyone else tries their best to peer over their shoulders without seeming insane (Kory and Raven are hovering, someone is standing on Donna’s bed with shoes. That person will be dead soon)

Garth hopes Dick doesn’t feel too much like a specimen. If he’s a trafficked mer….Garth shudders to think about all the cages and exhibits he’s heard and seen over the years in their efforts to crack down on the illegal and legal mer trades. There’s no telling what traumas they might be triggering right now as they stare down at him.

Dick is blinking up at them from underwater, and it’s surreal to see him so Atlantean. Now that he’s like this, Garth can’t imagine him any other way. His deep green tail would blend in so well in the waters he was meant to grow up in, he’d be a master of hide and seek. Garth can imagine the way he’d use it to reflect light at passing ships the way tailed mers loved to do around the coast. He can imagine meeting Dick in a different way, as the son of some noble from some wherever-the-fuck city he doesn’t care about. In that world they could’ve hated each other, Dick’s personality could’ve been completely different. The idea of it is disconcerting.

When the voice that comes from Dick’s mouth isn’t English, half of them scramble to calibrate their translators. Garth wonders if he’d lived with his family long enough to learn the language, or if he was one of the lucky mer species with innate language built in from birth. Considering Dick must’ve had enough of a history for Batman to not be suspicious of him as a human, the former didn’t seem likely. (he had stories of a childhood at the circus. If it wasn’t the only plausible explanation he wouldn’t believe Dick was a born mer).

“Hey B” Dick’s voice is all warped and wrong through the translator. Garth switches his off, the others don’t have that luxury. “I guess it was too much to hope they wouldn’t call you.”

Wally visibly winces.

Batman is the most disoriented Garth has ever seen him out of battle, it takes him a good minute to respond. No one says anything. Garth watches Dick’s frayed control of his happy expression falter several times. “I was not aware you were Atlantean.”

Dick’s eyes flick to Garth and then Aquaman, before landing back on his adoptive father, “You’ve already worked it out?” (the possibility of Dick being unaware of his true nature is shot out the window in an instant) he goes to prop himself up, but stops before he leaves the water, “How long was I out?”

“Just over twenty-four hours” Batman responds. Dick made an alarmed noise that definitely wasn’t human, “Do the others know?”

Batman shook his head, “They know something is happening, but I haven’t given them all the details yet. If I hadn’t revoked zeta access to the tower I assume Damian would’ve been here by now.”

The mer in the bathtub glares at him, cat-eyed, “They’ll be here by the end of the day, then.” Bruce nodded, “Which is why you should stop stalling and start explaining.”

Dick breathes, slumping down to the bottom of the tub, no longer making an effort to look up at his father, “You might as well call them all over, it saves me having to explain it ten times.”

Chapter Text

Dick may be acting a little dramatic, but this is easily one of the worst days of his life.

Lying in the bathtub of Donna’s room, he can’t even take deep breaths to stave off the panic attack he feels brewing just beneath his skin, because his lungs are taking in air from his gills.

The body he’s in isn’t his, his tail is a foreign object, his skin has been dyed the wrong colour, the scales are cracked and dry and wrong. This body does not belong to Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is a human and has always been human, not a fucking green-scaled, cat-eyed mer. He can’t see colours correctly, his tongue sits differently in his mouth, and his teeth are sharper. Dick has been body-swapped plenty of times, and this is exactly how it feels. Being inside this body is just not correct, this is not what he’s supposed to feel like, this is not what he is.

Except it is. This is what he was, before his name was Dick Grayson, before his family, before he met his parents, this is what he looked like. This is what he’s always supposed to have looked like. Maybe he should feel better about it, and maybe he will in a few hours once he’s calmed down, but Dick’s whole world is crumbling around him and this is not what he wanted to happen. It was probably naive of him to believe the curse would stay in place forever, and perhaps he should be grateful it gave out during a time of relative peace, when there aren’t any wars or apocalyptic threats to deal with and his family has a tentative understanding with each other, but he’d rather this just never happen at all.

There is every chance he’s stuck like this, unless there’s some way for Zatanna or Raven or hell even Garth to seal everything away again, or some permanent transformation that can be made, but there’s no guarantee they’ll agree to that. Dick can’t count out the fact the Atlanteans might push to reunite him with his family, they might try and convince him to stay in this fishy form and the thought of never getting to walk again terrifies him.

The ocean has nothing for him. He doesn’t remember it at all, there is no family for him to go back to, no culture to fall back on, no place to return him to, and even if they found the parents he was stolen from, Dick doesn’t think he wants to meet them.

Currently, he is at the mercy of the group of people Donna kicked out of the bathroom he’s trapped in. He can’t move around, he can’t reach any of his tools, use his phone, or even communicate to anyone that doesn’t have a translator. Dick is a caged animal—again.

The bathtub isn't big enough to contain his tail (his—it’s attached to him, it’s his, he can move it, when he touches it with his warped hands he can feel it. It’s a dream Dick really wants to wake up from). It’s uncomfortable and cramped and the water is warmer than he’d like (he’s never had anything but scalding showers but the warmth is irritating him now. His body is not his own). He’d call someone in and ask if they could move him, but even the sound of his own voice is frightening (every sound he makes is foreign and unexpected, he can’t control his own vocal chords, this is not what he’s supposed to sound like–but is is and it’s weird and he wishes he could go back to last night and do it over but he can’t and he’s stuck and—).

So Dick Grayson—or whatever his name is supposed to be—is trapped. Him and the body that isn’t supposed to be his are trapped until someone comes back to help him.

There are very few times in Dick’s life since becoming human that he’s felt this helpless. When his parents fell, when he found out Jason died (and he missed the fucking funeral), in the days following Blockbusters death, when Bludhaven was destroyed, all earth-shattering moments that changed the course of his life.

For something so enormous to have happened, it’s oddly quiet in the bathtub. The water muffles all sound except his own heartbeat—holy shit even that has changed, there’s nothing left of him anymore.

Dick takes a deep breath, his gills flutter, it does nothing to calm him down.

There’s nothing he can do. As much as the thought panics him, he doesn’t have anything to do but wait.

||◼️💧⬛️🐟🖤🐟⬛️💧◼️||

Jason is at his apartment when the text comes.

He’s about to dig into the takeout he waited forty five fucking minutes for (it was supposed to be twenty. The whole point of delivery is supposed to be convenient, he could’ve made it for himself in that time and it wouldn’t be cold and bland) when his phone lights up with a message from ‘B’

He groans.

Jason doesn't have Bruce blocked (anymore), they’ve come to a mutual understanding after one too many close calls, Bruce won’t message unless it’s an emergency.

The text simply reads, “TT, ASAP, unarmed - all bats.”

Jason’s brow furrows. Not immediately and unarmed means this isn’t a fight and no one’s actively dying, but there’s not many other (serious) reasons to get them all together. And Titans Tower…..wasn’t there some massive fuck off mission they just got back from? He’s most likely being called for some info dump about whatever went wrong, but again, there wouldn’t be any reason to call him specifically.

In any case, it’s not an emergency emergency, so Jason picks his chopsticks back up.

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||◼️💧⬛️🐟🖤🐟⬛️💧◼️||

Jason is the last to arrive at Titans Tower, in casual clothes and a domino, because Roy is right, it is too fucking hot for that shit.

Speaking of, Roy is waiting for him in the Zeta room, sitting cross-legged on the floor on his phone. He looks up when Jason approaches, “What part of ‘Just get here’ don’t you understand” Roy holds his arm out.

Jason pulls Roy to his feet. “You look like shit”

Roy just laughs, exasperated, pulling Jason into a hug, “Yeah, Yeah, just follow me man”

Jason resists the urge to say he knows Titans tower well enough to not need an escort. Roy does genuinely look like he’s been through the wringer, he doesn’t need Jason’s bullshit right now.

The elevator ride is a touch too long, and Jason glances up to realise they’re not on the living or meeting floors, but the gym floor. Roy shoots him a knowing look, “No, I haven’t made a mistake” the doors open with a ding! and the archer walks out with a purpose, “C’mon”

They walk right down to the end of the hallway, and by now Jason is really fucking confused, and so are all the newer Titans who are not-so-sneakily staring at them and turning to whisper to their friends as the two of them pass out of what should be earshot.

Bart calls after them, “Roy! Surely you don’t ignore me—“ in a blink, Bart is walking backwards in front of them, hands behind his back, “No offence Hood, but if your brother doesn’t know yet I doubt you do”

Shit, not even Bart is being clued into this?

“Seriously dude what is happening? literally all the OGs are meeting in the fucking swimming pool of all places, Aquaman is here, every Bat and their mothe—or I guess father?—is here. Wally is a tight-lipped asshole and for some reason you haven’t informed the batlets yet which is crazy—but I guess you were waiting for Hood which makes sense but Tim doesn’t know anything and is asking me and honestly I’m a little hurt I’m not considered an ‘og’ if this really is an og thing so surely someone will tell me because Tim will forget and the suspense is killing— Hey!”

The locker room door closes firmly behind them.

Bruce is standing in full cowl, blocking the entrance to the actual pools. From what Jason can see through the translucent glass, there seems to be more people moving around in the pool area, probably the ‘ogs’ Bart mentioned, because the locker room is entirely Bats.

Tim is cross-legged on the bench, anxiously fiddling with his phone in full office attire. Damian is standing in the far corner imitating his father, arms crossed and identical scowl adorning his face, still in his school uniform. Cass is sitting neatly on the floor against one of the lockers with her knees pulled to her chest, she’s got a hoodie and sweats on but she’s wearing ballet flats. Stephanie is sitting next to her, talking quietly. Even Babs is here, knee bouncing as she clicks at one of her many laptops.

Everyone looks up when the door opens.

Babs shuts her laptop. Everyone turns back to look at Bruce expectantly.

“Thank you all for responding promptly,” The whites of his mask stare directly at Jason as he says it. Roy slips behind Bruce into the pools, Stephanie jumps to try and peek inside, Bruce blocks her vision swiftly with his cape. She sticks her tongue out at him.

“Now that you’re all here we can proceed.” with what? “I know you all have questions, the answers of which I’m not at liberty to give you, so I’ll preemptively answer the ones you’ll immediately want to blurt out when we enter.”

Bruce steps to the side of the doorway, “Yes, the person in the pool is Dick,” Everyone blinks. What’s been done to Dick that makes him unrecognisable—and that requires him to be in a pool…?

Aquaman is here.

Has Dick got himself turned into a fucking Atlantean? Jason wants to laugh at the thought. But no, that wouldn’t be as big of a deal, that wouldn’t be a reason to call them all here ‘ASAP’.

“And yes. This is his original form.” Bruce swings the door open, giving them no time to process that.

Tim’s brain is clearly firing on all cylinders, but Jason doesn’t bother thinking it through when he can go find out for himself.

A gaggle of Titans is crowded around one of the freshwater pools, no one else is around. Jason none-too-gently shoves them aside, and the group parts for him and the others like the Red fucking Sea.

There is an Atlantean in the pool. A fully fish one, fully submerged and staring up at him from under an unnaturally still surface. Jason freezes.

If Bruce is to be believed, that’s Dick. His older brother.

Nobody moves or speaks for a few seconds. The fish—Dick—keeps staring up at them with his beady eyes with an almost nervous expression.

“I’m sorry,” Stephanie breaks the silence, “Did you say this was his ’original form’?”

||◼️💧⬛️🐟🖤🐟⬛️💧◼️||

Staring up at his family through the water is frustrating.

Dick wants to leap out and tell them everything, he wants to be with them, with two legs and lungs and a normal human body instead of this skin he’s been forced in. But he can’t do any of those things, least of all exit the water, or he’ll choke and die on the air he’s relying on for most of his life.

But like this he can’t. In this infuriatingly fishy body of his he’s limited to being stared at through the barrier of water and air like he’s a fucking aquarium exhibit. And they are staring, of course they are. Dick keeps his eyes locked with Jason’s, whose shock is frozen and etched into his features. He doesn’t have the strength to keep eye contact with any of his other siblings. Waiting for them had been torture, Dick’s friends trying in vain to get him to speak when he hates the sound of this voice that shouldn’t—should—be his, but having his family look at him in shock and horror is so, so much worse.

They look at him the way he feels, with fear and surprise and the barest hint of disgust and he wishes he could cry and scream and throw a tantrum about this. This is not who he is, this is not how he wants to be perceived, this is not him, but it is and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Dick doesn’t curl away from their eyes, even as they begin to shout and talk to each other like he’s not even there. Jason breaks eye contact to argue with Bruce about something, and in his peripheral vision (which is so much larger now, what the fuck. Why is nothing about him normal?) he sees Roy passing out rebreather masks, but Dick’s eyes lock on Cass’s.

His foreign fucking heartbeat skips, and it makes him aware of it all over again and his breathing increases in the panic but no air gasps in through his mouth and nose because that’s not their purpose on this body, he feels the gills flutter on his neck and oh my god he’s going to throw up, he wants out. Dick wants to be Richard Grayson again, not this. He can’t take this anymore.

Cass keeps her eyes firmly trained on him, even as she accepts a mask and fits it over her face with practiced ease. Her eyes are calculating, as always, but so warm, so sympathetic. She looks like she wants to give him a hug. Dick doesn’t even want to know what that would feel like with his skin all scaly and wrong. He wants a Cass hug, desperately, but not like this.

One by one everyone begins to plop into the water around him, the silence disturbed by the loud sounds of air being drawn in through the mechanics of the rebreathing system. Dick can feelthe ripples through his body, as if he should be intimately familiar with the movement of the currents. This is a fucking swimming pool, there are no currents except the ones created by the twenty other people around him. The water doesn’t slosh around when Dick moves, he is not like them anymore.

Garth, Kaldur and Arthur join the group, the water parts for them too. He is one of them now, he is different.

(It’s unfair, the way everyone settles to the bottom far away from him, hesitant to approach him. It is unfair that the only ones who dare to approach him are the other atlanteans. It's unfair to them that his initial reaction is a visceral hatred to being associated with them. There is nothing wrong with being an Atlantean, except for him, because he is not, even if he fundamentally is)

The others are arranged in a semi-circle, seated at the bottom of the pool, forming a ring around where he’s against the wall at the deeper end. The water is saltier than it usually is, Garth had to transform it for him to be in a space large enough for them to all hear him out.

Even down here he is boxed in, facing a council of eyes he can’t bear to look at directly. The eyes do not feel as comforting as they did when he was on the top step of the briefing room, they’re judging and piercing and he fears what he’ll find in their gazes. If anyone looks at him with the open disgust he feels, he might just have a(nother) breakdown. Not meeting their faces means he looks at their legs, which isn’t much better. He is not the only atlantean, he is not the only non-human, he is not even the only green-skinned person, but he is the only one with a massive fuck-off tail.

It is silent except for the nails-on-a-chalkboard rasp of the many many rebreathers, bubbles clouding the water around them. No one knows how to start, and while Nightwing may well be the ultimate ice-breaker, Dick is not going to be the one to speak up and draw the attention of the few people who are pointedly looking away. He doesn’t want to be perceived like this, for all he loves to be the center of attention, it isn’t as satisfying like this, when everyone is staring at a form he did not choose to reside in and judging its every feature, as if he has changed from the person they knew before.

“Dick,” Bruce’s voice cuts through the water like a knife, unpleasant and physically painful in a way Dick didn’t expect. He flinches, Bruce doesn’t acknowledge it. “Explain.”

This is where Dick should make a joke ”a man of few words, aren’t you bruce?” “where’s all your trauma victim communications training gone?” “Brucie is taking the day off, I see”, nothing fits correctly in this mouth. He can’t even speak English in this form, he wonders what the words he’d say would translate to, if his voice sounds the same through the translators, if the jokes would carry the same connotations. He wishes those questions did not apply to him.

“I–” it’s the first time he’s spoken in hours, his own voice is still jarring, “As you’ve all gathered, I’m not—” he winces, “I wasn’t originally human.”

Dick risks a glance around. Everyone’s eyes are trained on him, it hasn’t escaped them that he’s clinging onto his humanity even as it’s been so obviously stripped from him, he averts his eyes again.

“I don’t–I don’t exactly know where I came from, my first memories are in an exotic petshop. There were a few of us there. I think, well, I haven’t asked him, but it’s pretty obvious that Haly bought me from there” bought me, like an animal. As if mer are not life forms on the intelligence levels of humans.

Dick can almost see the anger ripple through the water. Both Steph and Garr open their mouths like they’re going to say something, but they’re both stopped. Steph, by Jason shooting her a glare that she returns in kind, and Garr by a smack on the head courtesy of both Raven and Vic. Garth makes a noise in the back of his throat Dick has never heard, but something about it soothes him implicitly. He relaxes slightly, and maybe that would worry him if he had the capacity to think beyond the words he’s struggling to string together.

“I did tricks for them for a while. The records of them having a mer are pretty buried, they don’t like to be associated with mer rights violations, who would’ve thought?” he wants to laugh bitterly, but laughing requires taking in air in a way he can’t at the moment, so he settles for rolling his eyes. No one else finds it funny, from what he sees. “But, yeah. I don’t know. When I was around six a magic-user came to see us perform. Female, purple cloak, I don’t remember her face that well, it’s been a long time,” A few eyes flick over to Raven. Dick knows that something in the curse prevents him from remembering the witch correctly, even if every other moment from that day is burned behind his eyelids. He doesn’t know if the purple cloak is a false memory, the dark magic of the curse feels so similar to Raven’s, perhaps his brain is colouring the witch with illogical logical conclusions.

“She found me after the performance, and—” lungs full of water, pain, pain, pain, bloody knuckles, bloody glass, screaming into open air, heavy, cold, cold, cold “Well. I stopped looking like this” he can’t keep the malice out of his voice as he gestures to his fishy body.

Garth clocks him, shooting him an alarmed look. Dick wants to feel bad, but he doesn’t. Obviously he’s never had a problem with mers, or even the fact that he is one, but being unceremoniously thrust into a form that is so different from anything he remembers or understands, and that restricts him from doing literally everything he’s ever loved and going anywhere he’s ever been…there’s nothing to be happy about in this situation. He doesn’t particularly care about being politically sensitive right now.

“John and Mary Grayson, my parents” he pauses, no one protests that, and they better not. He is a Grayson, legally and spiritually. They’re the first people who were ever kind to him, and he won’t tolerate anyone saying anything different. “Took me in. I became part of The Flying Graysons, Haly’s erased most traces of them having had a mer at all, and then,” he shrugs. “They fell, B swooped in, and you were all there for the rest. Zatanna's antitoxin from last night was apparently strong enough to remove the initial curse, and now here we are.”

It’s still quiet (not silent, the rebreathers are beginning to seriously irritate him), it’s a miracle that he isn’t being thrown questions left and right, but everyone is just. Looking. Judging his new (old) body and giving him a range of expressions between horrified sympathy and murderous rage.

These are the people he’s closest to, the people Dick has known almost all of his life as well as the family members he’s picked up more recently, the people he’s killed for, some of which have returned the favour, and yet they’re looking at him like a startled animal, like a damsel in distress, like something they’ve never seen before.

For the nth time today, Dick wishes everything could just go back to normal.

Bruce is the first one to speak up again, the only person Dick has heard speak since he woke up in this hell, “You never thought to share this with us?” with me?

Jason scoffs and rolls his eyes, Dick agrees with that sentiment, “When I first moved in I was scared you’d eat me, actually.” he says, amused. That finally gets a few laughs out. It wasn't as funny at the time.

“And then I just thought it didn’t really matter? I–” he doesn't need to explain to everyone that he doesn't really want to reunite with his birth family, “There’s nothing I would gain from telling everyone. I've been human most of my life, this pool is probably the biggest body of water I remember being in while in this form.” all three Atlanteans physically reel back at that revelation. Dick had tried his best not to think about it that hard, but Haly’s really were horrible to him as a mer. Five year old him would lose it over having this much space to roam around.

Donna, Wally and Kory are visibly teary-eyed, Kory has her hands over her mouth and Donna’s hands are clenching and unlenching in a way that on anyone else would mean they want to punch something. Dick knows she's trying not to charge across the space between them and tackle him into a hug. Jason on the other hand, is very obviously gearing up to raze the mer trafficking industry to the ground. Dick doesn't think he'd protest that very much.

(Damian is still unreadable, closed off and distant in a way he hasn't been in years, it scares the fuck out of Dick more than anything else could. Tim is silently observing, clearly in mission-mode, compartmentalizing the emotional reaction for later. Cass is still staring at him with so much understanding and affection that he's scared looking at her will make him lose it. She also has her arm on Stephanie's shoulder, who is clearly struggling not to start blurting out a thousand questions)

“You’ve never….you don't remember the ocean?” Garth says carefully, eyes wide. Dick blinks, taking a moment to process that Garth is speaking the same language he is.

“No.” he shakes his head. That is one thing he has never been able to shake the longing for. Dick has dreams sometimes of swimming free, of a series of clicks and trills that aren't his own, but he can't be sure if those are memories or dreams concocted of the stories he’s been told over the years. “I barely remember being a mer at all, Garth.”

Garth, Kaldur and Arthur turn to each other so obviously that everyone in the pool can tell they've started up a telepathic conversation.

“Okay seriously,” Vic shouts, “I get that this is a unique situation but there shouldn’t be anything that private and secretive that they can't just wait until they're alone to discuss it.”

Kory huffs (cute) in agreement, “It is incredibly rude.”

The white voids of Bruce's domino squint, “I have to agree.”

Zatanna shoots a little zap of Magic at Garth, he deflects it without turning away from or breaking whatever conversation is occurring.

Dick wonders if he could….

Well. He’s a mer now, but maybe the telepathic thing is limited to high-borns? Or it has to be previously established? It's not like details on Atlantean powers are made readily available to humans, even with the Justice League databases on his side, Dick doesn't know everything.

Still, if it's anything like Zatanna and Constantine have described mind-melding and reading…he’d just have to look at them, think really aggressively about Invading their thoughts and the link should appear in his minds eye like a thread to grab onto and–

There’s a barrage of surprise that isn't his own. All three Atlanteans have turned to him with open mouths. Kaldur is grinning.

Of course the Bat works out how to Connect without being taught, what did I expect? Arthur thinks through the connection, exasperated.

Jason cackles, drawing Dick’s attention away briefly. The connection wavers on his end, but the others keep a firm grip on his thread. “Of fucking course Goldie learns telepathy in five fucking seconds” despite his words, there's a proud edge in his tone.

Vic groans, “Are you serious? We didn't need any more of them! I can't believe we’re letti–”

Dick’s attention snaps back into the other Atlanteans.

Before your intrusion, we were discussing the merits of giving you an artefact capable of transforming you between forms at will, Arthur says.

Hope lights up in every synapse in Dick’s mind, it must be strong enough to broadcast through the connection, or perhaps it’s obvious on his face (not that he would be able to tell what emotions look like on this face), because the three of them exchange another look.

The artefact he speaks of is not a common one, Gath says gently, For the Keepers to depart with it would take a bit of convincing, it is not a guarantee.

Kaldur quickly jumps in before Dick has time to panic, Of course, there are other ways for you to permanently return human, but we would like to attempt this method first.”

So what?, Dick thinks angrily, he hopes he’s getting his message across, he’s not exactly sure how this ‘connection’ thing works, I’m supposed to stay here in the pools for an indefinite amount of time while you try to convince someone to give over an item? Are you not King of Atlantis, Arthur?

Arthur sighs, the bubbles it creates cause more sound than the actual exhale, Of course not, we are offering you a tour of your homeland, just a week, if we cannot convince the Keepers in that period, Garth will turn you permanently human again.

Dick expected it, but it doesn’t taste any less sour in his mouth (can he even taste sour candy now? Would it poison him? What food does his species eat?). They’re openly admitting Garth could change him back right now, but they want to give him a whole tour and do a song and dance to try and convince him to retain the ability to become this thing again in the future.

As much as he wants to throw a fit and insist he’s changed back right this second, something in their determined, righteous expressions stops him. There’s no harm in a week, either way he’ll be home at the end of it, he trusts Garth to understand he’d rather be human than fish (putting his fate in their hands is terrifying, even with that trust. All it would take is Garth’s refusal to stop him from ever hugging his family with his fleshy human hands ever again). Why not play along?

That doesn’t sound too bad, he shrugs.

The three of them visibly brighten, Then we are In agreement, Arthur nods, You will stay with us in the castle for the week. I will make the necessary arrangements. Garth will grant you a temporary half-human form so we can get down to the ocean, and you can talk with your family before we head out, if you so wish.

Dick blinks, he didn’t realise that was a thing Garth could do just like that with no preparation, his friend is more powerful than he thought, I do so wish, that would be great, thanks.

Arthur turns back to the larger group, the connection dissolves back into the water seamlessly and their focuses snap back to the world around them. “It has been decided. Nightwing will reside with us in Atlantis for a week while we seek an alternate method to fix this situation, if it is not resolved in that time, he will be permanently transformed to his Human form and returned to the surface.”

The tension seeps out of most of the pool instantly. Like Dick, he imagines they thought there was likely no way to fix this without some kind of blood sacrifice. “So he’ll be back by next week either way?” Tim speaks up for the first time, still not making eye contact with Dick.

Garth nods, “It is not too complicated a procedure, but there are other ways to grant Nightwing his legs without complex magic.”

Zatanna raises an eyebrow, “I assume those methods are Atlantean secrets?”

Garth grins, “Naturally.”

Kaldur heads to the edge of the pool, “I will go ahead and inform the procession” he interjects.

Steph jerks forward, wide-eyed, “Wait, you’re taking him right now?”

Arthur shakes his head, “Garth will grant him a temporary form so he can have a private conversation with the Congregation of Bats and whoever else he chooses before we head out, but yes, we will return to Atlantis as soon as possible.”

Bruce nods, “This is amenable.”

Dick feels the anxiety and dread swirl straight back up to the surface. Fuck, he didn’t really think about what that meant when he agreed to it. Of course he wants to talk to his family, but that means he has to talk to his family, to Bruce and Jason and Tim and Damian and Steph and Cass. This isn’t going to be fun.