Work Text:
Twenty years of pure silence could drive anyone crazy, especially living in Gotham, a city where crime created an unique cacophony over the decades.
Jason was never truly alone in the sepulchral silence. Even before the Joker's last great prank, his ears had been trained to pick up the faintest whisper in such a bustling city. Now? It seemed as if he had ears all over the city.
But he didn't need to sharpen his senses when a lightning bolt flashes across the sky just a few meters from the tallest buildings.
He watched as a figure fell from the sky and crashed onto one of the rooftops; whoever it was was lucky not to have fallen into the city's toxic gas.
Although unfazed, Jason flew closer with his grappling hook as his insides twisted with anticipation.
He vaguely wondered what other version of Batman had been sent to torment his peace, to give him false hope that the universe was finally on his side. Only to be awakened with a setback on his face after locking them up in Arkham and discovering the next morning that they were no longer there.
They made him feel crazy, and he probably was; to be Batman, you had to have a few screws loose, after all. He told himself that having elaborate conversations with the voices of his brothers, Bruce or Alfred in his head every day wasn't a sign of schizophrenia. He just couldn't forget them; he refused to forget them.
A few meters from the roof, Jason mentally prepared himself for another blow to his spirit.
He could not allow the Gods to see him crumble under their cruel trials.
To his unpleasant surprise, the new visitor to Gotham was not another Batman from an alternate universe, it was a damn Superman.
Or Superboy in this case, because of how young he looked, Jason couldn't decide which of the two options was worse.
It was no better when he tried to immobilize him with kryptonite handcuffs that Bruce had created long ago, only to discover that the stranger was immune to kryptonite when he awoke and tore them apart like twigs.
A fight was pointless; he was smarter than that, so he simply watched the stranger survey his surroundings with a strange expression before… throwing a tantrum?
"Damn it! I ended up in a side story instead of the main tournament!"
The boy kept babbling nonsense for a while, talking about having to go to a tournament, until Jason finally got fed up and told him to get lost. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to let a young 'Superman' wander around, but Jason didn't really have a contingency plan for a Kryptonian who wasn't affected by kryptonite. Better he be out there than here in his town.
He stared for a long time at the only opening at the very top of the dome through which the man had left, like a bird escaping from a cage.
Jason had once been a bird; but his wings were torn off long ago.
After an hour the boy returned.
Jason watched him with exasperation through his helmet, ignoring the feeling in his guts.
"Didn't you say you were leaving? Or what, don't they want you in Metropolis?"
The boy watched him with an unreadable expression before adopting a relaxed posture; he was pretending to be calm, Jason observed.
Avoiding his question, he replied, "...Yeah, I think I'll stay here for a while if you don't mind."
Jason, in fact, did mind.
The boy's name was apparently Clark Kent (how original). He came from another universe that had been destroyed, went insane for a while, killed a bunch of people, found redemption, and now lived in the "main" universe, as he called it. Oh, and apparently he was Superboy, Superboy Prime to be exact. Jason didn't ask him any of this; he just babbled nonstop.
He also asked too many questions, saying they were to "delve deeper into the plot." Whatever that means.
"Why do you spend all your time in Arkham?"
"It's located in a strategic point of the city; from here I have a panoramic view."
"...And your Batcave is in...?"
"Over there." He pointed to a long-abandoned skyscraper. It had taken Jason two years to build and install all the technology and furnishings the old Batcave had once had.
"Okay, and I suppose it would be very stupid if I asked why you don't use the old Batcave."
"Does the toxic gas in the city's soil and subsoil give you any clues?"
Prime ignored his sarcastic tone. "And what about the mansion?"
Ah, there it was, the million-dollar question.
Wayne Manor was one of the few properties in the city that hadn't been significantly affected, thanks to being situated on higher ground. Clark had obviously noticed this during one of his flights over the city when he was bored.
"...It's very risky to get there, besides, why on earth would I live in a spacious, dusty, empty mansion?"
He turned his back on him, ending the interrogatory. Prime could do whatever he wanted; he had a city to watch over.
Jason discovers that time felt like a strange concept ever since the city was contaminated. The gas affected the city's climate, making the air thick even where it hasn't touched. The sky is always tinged with red, and the black clouds add a grim touch. There is no sunrise or sunset; he can only tell it's truly night when the red of the sky deepens.
Time could cloud your mind until you were unable to distinguish days from weeks. Jason wondered when he stopped fighting against time.
When did his brothers' voices joking in his head were replaced by Primes anecdotes about comics he used to read as a child.
When did Alfred's gentle voice was replaced by mundane conversations with Prime.
When did the memory of arguments he used to have with Bruce were replaced by the arguments he had with Prime every time he took him for a flying ride around the city without asking him first.
They were getting used to each other's presence, becoming familiar with each other's habits.
Jason didn't like it.
This... routine they had created. He knew that sooner or later it would end; Clark wasn't from this universe, one day he would leave.
Even so, he did nothing about it.
It was an autumn morning when Jason woke up startled. The room inside the skyscraper was so cold that his breath steamed as he inhaled, but that wasn't what woke him. It was the sound of rain hitting his window.
It was October, it wasn't supposed to be that cold yet, and even less likely that rain would reach their location; the opening at the top of the dome was so small that the rain and snow always fell in the same place.
He didn't even bother to put on his full armor; he ran toward the rooftop while fastening his utility belt. When he arrived, his helmet slipped from his hands and hit the rooftop floor with a hollow sound.
Despite the rain pounding his face, Jason believed he was still asleep; he had to be. The sight before him was too surreal. The sky was gray instead of red, the air felt cool instead of sticking to his skin, and…
The toxic gas had dissipated from the city.
Not only that; the dome's roof was gone, only the non-cylindrical sides remained, as if the entire city were protected by glass walls instead of being trapped.
This could only have been the work of one person.
For the first time in a long time, Jason leaped into the void without worrying about using respiratory protection. For the first time in a long time, he clung to the rooftops closest to the streets, where he could see the streetlights that had never gone out despite having no one to illuminate.
When he glimpsed the red of Clark's cape a few feet away under a lamppost, he'd already been watching him. Jason approached.
Prime had a smile that lit up his features and eyes, reminding him of a dog sitting in front of its owner waiting for a treat after having hunted a hare.
"Surprise! I almost said belated happy birthday, but that would be, uhhh, like two months late? Hehe." Jason remained motionless. He couldn't tell what expression was on his face, but Clark continued his explanation in a more nervous tone. "A-anyway! A few days ago, I tested the waters to see if that stupid gas would affect me, and no, it didn't! I waited until you finally realized that a normal human needs sleep, then I inhaled all the gas into my super-lungs!" He puffed out his lungs and thumped his chest proudly for emphasis. "-And I released it into outer space! I cleared away any possible traces of toxins with my icy breath, maybe that's why the environment feels a little chilly, in case you were wondering, and- Oh! The hardest part was getting the cylindrical part of the dome out. One can feel quite claustrophobic if they have the ability to fly-Hmph-!"
His body reacted before either of them could register it. Jason lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the Kryptonian's shoulders. He could feel Clark's body stiffen, and after a few seconds, he wrapped his arms around Jason's torso.
"Thank you, Clark"
Prime, finally relaxing, squeezed his torso tighter. Jason couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged someone voluntarily.
They remained like that for seconds that felt like an eternity, under the rain purifying a city that was never given a second chance, and instead had to forge its own path to redemption, just like them.
The end of Gotham's quarantine felt like a chapter of his life he thought he wouldn't live long enough to see. Twenty years ago, Gotham had a population of over six million; now, just half a million people have returned from exile in less than two months. Jason saw it coming; many gothamites had put down roots and moved on with their lives. It probably wasn't easy, but Jason theorized that more people would return after the holidays.
Speaking of festivities...
Prime had finally lured him to confront his old home, using the excuse that spending Christmas and New Year's in a luxurious mansion was one of his childhood dreams. Jason didn't believe him, but it was hard not to when he saw Prime cleaning and decorating the mansion with such enthusiasm.
He remembered Alfred, who had always taken more than three days to clean the entire mansion on his own, and wondered if he would have liked Clark, or if he would have been envious to see him clean the residence in less than a few hours.
"Didn't the old bat have any whiskey?"
"Of course he had, even though I only ever saw him drink on rare occasions."
"They're probably really aged now... like, really really aged and with an exquisite flavor."
He snorted involuntarily. "And what do you know about whiskey? Are you even old enough to drink, Super-Boy?"
Prime pouted like a child. "For your information, I'm twenty-two years old! And yes! I drank alcohol... when I was underage."
They were in the Waynes' old study, sitting on the sofa wearing ridiculous Christmas sweaters even though it was New Year's Eve. The room felt cold even with the fireplace lit as the only source of light.
Perhaps the cold was the perfect excuse for their legs rubbing together as they sat on such a large sofa, even though one of them was incapable of feeling cold, and the other was already feeling the whiskey's alcohol warming his body. Neither of them moved away.
The two continued arguing when they were suddenly interrupted by the bell of the old pendulum clock at the entrance to the mansion, striking twelve o'clock. A new year had just begun.
Before he could register it, Prime moved at light speed and filled two champagne glasses, handing one to the vigilant before raising his own with a cheeky grin.
"Happy New Year, Angry Robin"
Jason clinked his glasses without giving Prime the satisfaction of a reaction before answering.
"Happy New Year, Superfraud"
Prime's gasp and offended expression made it worth the brain cells he lost researching internet slangs.