Chapter Text
Barbara knew that every member of the extended Wayne family had an “off-period” at some point during the year.
For most of them, it was the anniversary of a family member or friend's death, or a harrowing attack/event in their past that resulted in them shutting the others out or acting recklessly.
Even she found it a little difficult to be the all seeing Oracle on the anniversary of the attack that made her hang up the mantle of Batgirl, no matter that she was happy with her current role.
Damian’s was his birthday. In each of the 5 years that he’d been living at the manor, he would appear in the dining room for meals, but otherwise lock himself in his room and avoid conversation.
He never explained, and any speculation as to why the kid hated his birthday being celebrated was blamed on his upbringing and swiftly tabled.
Although the family often had difficulties in communicating, they all tried to work with each other to allow whoever it was to take a break from the grind that was crime fighting in Gotham.
She’d already received a message from Bruce about Damian’s absence from patrol tonight, something that had been set in motion after an incident during Damian’s 2nd birthday with the family caused them to realize that there was an off-period for the rather intense ex-assassin.
(They probably should’ve realized that his birthday might’ve been an issue for him sooner. Damian refused to mention his birthday and had nearly attacked Dick for trying to plan a party.)
The two of them had quickly mapped out a patrol schedule that would account for the team being a Robin down. Afterward, Barbara sat behind the front desk of the library, scrolling through the list of currently checked out books. She would look at it every so often, making sure that the system hadn’t skipped out on informing her about any books past their due-date.
So, imagine her confusion when Damian Wayne walked into the library.
A quick glance at the date reaffirmed that it was, in fact, his 15th birthday.
The teen in question barely looked in her direction as he walked towards his usual, defensible table nearest to the far wall, placing a plain black backpack on top of it before sitting.
That was strike 1. Damian, even in his foulest moods, always stopped to say hello. Normal table or not, she looked closer.
Damian was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a long sleeved shirt bearing an unfamiliar logo under an oversized dark grey zip up hoodie. His hair was messy and damp.
Strike 2. Damian prided himself on looking incredibly put together, even when in the privacy of the manor. Barbara wasn’t sure he even owned a graphic tee shirt. The backpack was unfamiliar, too.
Strike 3 came when Damian, leg bouncing under the table, winced in pain after turning to open his backpack. There were no injuries reported in the last few days, other than a sprained wrist that Stephanie refused to explain and the usual bruises that came from fighting.
How much of this could be explained by it being his birthday? Why, after 4 years of locking himself in his room, would Damian be publicly seen wearing something so different to his normal clothing? When did he get hurt?
Was this one of the League’s clones? If it was, she had to admit it wasn’t trained to imitate the actual Damian very well.
Pulling her phone out, Barbara mentally ran through her options.
Bruce, while he would respond quickly, would likely call in the proverbial cavalry and overreact. If it was actually Damian, that would end poorly.
The best bet was probably to message the non-emergency thread (the one they had without Bruce that he pretended not to know about), and go talk to the kid while waiting on a response.
If it ended up with her getting attacked by a League clone…
Eh, Signal was nearby.
—
Don’t Tell B (unless someone’s dying again)
breaking news: Is Damian in the manor?
breaking news: Possible situation if he is.
just do drugs: simply gotta give us more than that
breaking news: One second.
—
Ignoring the vibrations from her phone, Barbara left the desk, wheeling over to Damian’s table.
He glanced up as she approached, but didn’t say anything, re-focusing on writing in the notebook he had on the table.
“Hey, you ok?” Barbara stopped at the side of the table. Her eyes swept over the unfamiliar backpack, noticing that it looked brand new, and frowned. Placing her attention back on the youngest Wayne had her pause.
Blue eyes narrowed at her.
Not Damian.
The teen relaxed, shoulders dropping and eyes widening slightly, during the time it took her to pause. Barbara had seen the Bats do that on occasion, when they didn’t want to show discomfort.
“Uh, yeah. Thank you for checking, miss.”
His voice was a little clearer than Damian’s was, and had none of the formal characteristics that Damian spoke with. And there was zero recognition in his face or tone.
Definitely not Damian.
“I’m Barbara, the head librarian here. If you need anything, please feel free to ask!” She switched tactics, now trying to narrow down the few options remaining. “Can I ask what you’re working on?”
Her phone buzzed again, this time in a rhythm that told her someone was calling. She ignored it.
The look-alike paused, glancing over at the pocket Barbara had her phone in. “Just a personal project, nothing serious.”
Barbara looked down at it. It was a bullet point list, written in two different sets of handwriting. Not wanting to scare the kid off, she looked at him again, thanking the fact that she had a photographic memory to check the list out later.
She smiled, nodding at what he said. “That’s great! Well anyways, I just wanted to check in because I didn’t recognize you. It was nice to meet you…”
The pause tactic usually worked for her, so she had zero qualms in trying it out.
“Yeah, it was nice to meet you too! I’ll come up if I need anything.”
Damnit.
After a second, Barbara wheeled herself back to the desk, frowning. He hadn’t acted like any of the previous clones sent by the League, even the ones who were sent to fully infiltrate before they struck.
The way he spoke was odd. Slightly accented, but in a manner that she couldn’t tell where from.
She pulled out her phone, declining a call from Tim and opening back to the chat without even looking at the mass amount of notifications.
—
Don’t Tell B (unless someone’s dying again)
just do drugs: babs wtf
just do drugs: yes he was just at lunch
just do drugs: @breaking news
just do drugs: @breaking news
just do drugs: @breaking news
just do drugs: @breaking news
prideprejudice&zombies: Oh my god shut the fuck up
just do drugs: @breaking news
just do drugs: @breaking news
thisisathreat: tim what is wrong with you
thisisathreat: wait wdym a situation
just do drugs: shes not answeirng
just do drugs: obviously i dont know
prideprejudice&zombies: Why are you tagging her as if she would respond.
prideprejudice&zombies: Call her.
prideprejudice&zombies: Dumbass.
boy blunder: situation?????? I’m at work still, not due there until after dinner probs
boy blunder: who’s closest to the library other than the dayshift
pitviper core: I am, in fact on the Opposite Side of the city
pitviper core: It’d be a minute before I could get there
boy blunder: Jay can you go
boy blunder: or Steph or Cass or someone
thisisathreat: cass is out of state, im in class
boy blunder: @prideprejudice&zombies
prideprejudice&zombies: I can be there in 5 minutes
prideprejudice&zombies: Planned on stopping by anyway
just do drugs: she is not answering my calls
pitviper core: I can make my way there asap, but the Horrors persist
pitviper core: (some idiot tried to shut down the traffic lights on the bridge again)
boy blunder: Do you uh. Need help with that ?
pitviper core: Nah all good they’re back on
pitviper core: Just telling the police what to do if it happens again
breaking news: Ok! More information:
breaking news: Not Damian, but if he’s a clone he is the weirdest one they’ve ever sent.
breaking news: Looks just like him, but off.
breaking news: Blue eyes, paler skin, kid has a lot more freckles, and he’s working on a “personal project” that he refused to elaborate on.
breaking news: Also refused to tell me his name!
just do drugs: did you see what the project was?
breaking news: Yeah, a list of items. Most of them were written in a different handwriting than his and checked off.
breaking news: He was writing about learning more about Gotham.
boy blunder: Library is a good place to do that, I guess
boy blunder: Any odd behaviors ?
breaking news: He’s hurt, something wrong with his chest. Maybe a cracked rib or something. He also has a strange accent, can't place it.
boy blunder: Jay will be there in a few
just do drugs: yo whats wrong with the cameras in that section babs
just do drugs: theyre all glitchy
breaking news: Huh. I’ll reset them.
—
Gotham had felt off. Stretched too far, in a way.
It left Jason feeling on edge and up earlier than he wanted to be. When this had happened in the past, he’d just go back out on patrol.
But he knew that it was Damian’s birthday, and that there was a solid chance that he’d end up with a visitor. Jason would never hear the end of it if he wasn’t at the apartment when Damian showed up.
Grumbling, he got out of bed and busied himself with making coffee. A look at his phone told him that it was seven in the morning.
Three whole hours of sleep.
Neither Jason or Red Hood were expected anywhere until tonight, when he had to actually figure out the modified patrol route he was being expected to follow. So he had time to kill.
His apartment door opened a few hours later, a little after lunchtime. Jason walked out of his office, where he’d been doing maintenance on his preferred patrol weapons, to see a familiar teenager filling up the electric kettle.
“Make me one too.” He said as he walked over to the island and took a seat.
Damian didn’t respond verbally, but he grabbed another mug from the cabinet.
Jason didn’t have company often (invited company, anyway), but he made sure to keep a few things stocked for when one of his siblings or friends inevitably stopped by.
Because it meant they wouldn’t steal his shit. Duh. Why else would he do that?
He knew it was a good idea to grab more of the spiced tea blend that Damian had found. It wasn’t the same by any means, but he had to admit that it was one of the closest blends to the tea they’d had in the League they’d been able to find. And that was some damn good tea.
It seemed the League of Assassins wasn't in the habit of selling their tea leaves to American retailers. Shocking.
Damian placed the mug in front of him when the water was done boiling, tea infuser already filled and floating in the cup. He took post across the island, leaning on his elbows with hands wrapped around his own steeping drink.
Jason glanced up at his brother’s face, trying to gauge whether today was a silence, listening, or distraction kind of day. Damian’s brows were furrowed, clearly gathering his thoughts. Listening, apparently.
The two sat for a few minutes as their drinks finished steeping, watching the water darken. Once it was done, Damian took the infusers out and placed them in the sink to clean out later.
“It has been ten years, and I still am not used to him being gone.” Damian finally spoke, still facing the sink. “I know I should tell Father about him, or at least Richard, but…”
Jason hummed, trying to get him to continue.
The teen turned around, grabbing his mug and leaning against the counter behind him. He pointedly did not make eye contact as he continued. “I do not want them to feel entitled to my memories of him. It is selfish, I am sure.”
“I don’t think it is.” Damian looked up as Jason spoke. “Does Bruce have a right to know? Probably. But it’s completely understandable for you to want to protect him from them.”
“I do not think I am protecting him.”
“Aren’t you? You’re not tellin’ them because you know he’ll be all paranoid about it.” Jason took a sip of tea to let Damian digest that. “You’re kinda protectin’ yourself, too. You’d be forced to relive being in the League, in a way.”
The conversation stilled, Damian clearly thinking over his reasoning for not telling the family.
Jason was tempted to keep speaking, but he was interrupted by his phone buzzing repeatedly where he had placed it on the counter. A look at the screen showed a short conversation followed by Tim repeatedly mentioning Barbara. When it was clear Tim was not going to stop, he opened the chat and promptly told him to shut the fuck up.
As he deserved.
Steph quickly joined in, and Jason pointed out that it would probably be better to call Barbie rather than text everyone.
He looked back towards Damian, who had almost finished his tea. His brother hadn’t moved to look at the notifications he was also surely getting.
“You have your phone?” Jason asked.
“No. I did not wish to have Drake or Father following me. Richard will be overbearing enough about me not patrolling tonight. There was no reason to give him more ammunition.”
Jason looked back down at his phone as it buzzed, seeing a mention from Dick. He responded in the affirmative and finished his tea.
“I have to stop by the library quick for a few things. If you’re stayin’ for dinner you can order from that place in the Bowery. I’ll probably be back in an hour or so.”
Damian nodded, moving away from the sink so Jason could place his mug there.
Grabbing his keys and civilian weapon (because what kind of dumbass would travel through Gotham weaponless if they had an option to take one), he stopped to put on his boots before leaving.
His bike sat exactly where he had left it, and unlocked his helmet from where he had it looped around the handlebar and put it on.
The drive to the library was as short as he expected it to be, weaving through any traffic and driving as fast as he tended to.
The closer he got, the more he felt the pit stirring. It’d been pretty quiet all day, as it tended to be when he was around Damian, but something had apparently woken it up.
Standing on the curb by his bike, Jason checked the messages sent while he’d been occupied.
“Just like Damian, but off.” Barbara had said. “Blue eyes, freckles, strange accent.”
He decided to blame his gut instinct on the fact that Damian had just been talking about him.
The pit came to a head as he opened the door, helmet off and tucked into his elbow in case he needed a way to hide glowing eyes. His attention snapped immediately to the far wall, locking eyes with a teenager who did look scarily like Damian.
The teen’s eyes flashed green, visible even from the distance he was, and Jason felt the pit rush forward in response. He braced for the familiar anger, ready to put his helmet on and head to a nearby alley to calm down, but nothing came. It settled slightly, but continued to bubble at the back of his mind.
Damian-lite tilted his head, but made no move to get up.
A soft slam of the doors behind him pulled Jason back to the present. He finally broke eye contact and headed toward the front desk, where Barbara had clearly seen the interaction.
“No I don’t know what that was.” He said before she could even ask, placing his helmet on the desk and leaning in close. “I’m fine though, no need to call the cavalry.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. Think you’re supposed to be the cavalry right now anyway.”
“Yeah that tracks. Whad’ya need from me, Barbie?”
“Right now? Stand there and look like you don’t need me. He’s coming up here.” Jason busied himself with leafing through the (admittedly) many pamphlets strewn across the desk.
Sure enough, the kid parked himself in front of the desk, holding the straps of his backpack away from his chest, and tried to hide that he was looking at Jason.
“Hi again! Need something?” Barbara greeted him in a gentle voice. She was one of the bats who knew exactly how to talk to children, and could somehow make them think being helped was their idea.
The kid glanced over at Jason again, something like recognition flashing within the pit and Damian-lite’s eyes. And then it stopped.
Jason was too distracted by the pit going completely silent to hear the kid talking. A pamphlet on Gotham’s subway system bent as his hand clenched.
“Oh yeah! Feel free to browse the books, we have a lot about the paranormal. If you want to check them out, you do need a library card though.” Barbara pulled up something on her laptop, before turning it around to show the kid. “Are you interested in stuff like that? I could set up a card for you really quick here.”
Humming in response, the teen glanced at Jason one more time before he spoke. “Anything on ghosts? Or ectoplasm?”
“There’s books on famous hauntings, but nothing particularly comes to mind.”
“Okay, thanks.” He seemed less on edge now, but Jason couldn’t tell exactly why.
“Wanna set up a card? It’ll make it really fast if you find a book you’d like to check out. It also will give you a login to the computers and an extended use time.”
Man, Barbie was fishing hard to get this kid’s name.
“What do you need to sign up for one?”
“Just your name, birthdate, and a photo ID.”
The kid frowned. But he set the backpack down and went digging through it.
Jason’s eyes caught on a scar on the kid’s neck, stretching from the front and across the right side. Depending on how deep it was (pretty deep based on the thickness of the scar tissue), he wasn’t sure how the kid had survived it. It should’ve severed one of his carotid arteries.
“Hey, kid, how’d you get that scar? It’s a pretty big one.” Jason asked, mouth forming the words before he could stop himself. Barbara glared at him, and he felt something in the back of his mind scold him for asking.
But the scar was eerily similar to the wound he’d heard described by servants in the League.
Damian-lite’s eyes flashed green again, and he bared his teeth a little before pausing with a confused look on his face. Almost like he didn’t know why that had happened either.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve had it since I was younger and my uh, parents never told me what happened.” He shrugged, but continued digging and eventually pulled out a thin wallet. Jason didn’t miss the clinking of metal against metal as he did.
Barbara went through the process of making a new library card, and Jason committed the information to memory.
Name? “Danny Nightingale.”
Is that short for anything? “Daniel, technically. But that feels weird.”
Birthdate? “April 3rd, 1998”
Jason hummed quietly at that, thrown off.
Danny, not Damian, handed Barbara his photo ID to check against the verbal information. Jason watched her eyes dart toward the address section before handing it back to the kid.
“Awesome! I’ll print out a paper version for now, but you are now a proud owner of a Gotham Public Library library card! Come back in a few days and I’ll have a hard copy for you.”
Danny nodded, putting his ID back into the backpack. Both Jason and Barbara’s phones buzzed, and the kid looked over at the pocket Jason’s phone was in.
Sharp hearing.
Barbara handed over the paper copy, and the kid turned to head towards the section with paranormal books.
Jason felt a pull to follow along. Sue him, but he was curious and wanted to know if his theory was right.
“Be right back with more information, Barbie.” He ignored Barbara’s disapproval as he turned and started along the same path.
The shelves stretched before him, and Jason felt the pull leading him to where the kid was pretending to look at a book about Arkham Asylum’s haunted history.
“So, wanna explain what that was?” The book snapped closed. Danny looked over at Jason, a much harder look in his eye than he had when he was speaking to Barbara.
“I was wondering whether you’d get that message. Seems like you’re more liminal than the few people I’ve tried that with.” He said, glancing at Jason’s torso. “But I haven’t seen anyone like you in the Zone, so maybe you’re in a different category?”
“The hell are you talking about?”
“You feel more like me than my sister, but your ecto feels gross, man.”
Barbara was right, he had a really unique accent. Almost like he wasn’t a native english speaker and was taught by someone who had an accent.
“You said that earlier. What’s ecto?”
“Do you really not know?” Danny tilted his head, and Jason felt like he was across from a predator sizing him up. “Or did CW send you here to watch me?”
“All I know is that you aren’t settin’ off the Pit even though you’re annoyin’ as hell, kid.” Was it a bad idea to name drop the Pit to this random kid? Probably, yeah. But Jason had a theory to confirm and he needed to know whether he was right.
“Pit…” With narrowed eyes, Danny’s brows furrowed in an incredibly familiar expression. “Sounds familiar, and I guess it would explain the rancid stench coming off of you.”
“You sayin’ I smell?” Jason frowned, insulted for a second before deciding to switch tactics, and languages. “Anyway, where did you hear about the Lazarus Pits?”
Danny jerked back, his eyes flashing green again and staying narrowed.
That was not the reaction Jason was expecting. Was he wrong? He’d thought that using the League’s dialect of Arabic would be able to confirm or deny his theory quickly.
“I do not, uh, remember. My memory leaves much to be desired.” The kid was clearly rusty, but he still spoke the language as if he was a native speaker.
“You are 15, yes? Any notable events around your 5th birthday?”
“Who the hell are you?” The green came back, this time brighter and angrier. The Pit stirred, and Jason could feel something scolding him again for asking. “Are you so uncivilized you cannot follow the 1st rule of being dead?”
Jason looked over the kid again, watching as the green faded and the confusion from earlier came back. Almost like he couldn’t remember why he was offended.
But the Pit wasn’t reacting to the accusation. Whenever anyone spoke about him being dead, the Pit would rumble and threaten to overflow. Not here, though.
“Jason, and I think you should look into those memory issues. They can hide a lot more than you think.” He was speaking from experience. It had taken a few months for him to even remember he had been with the League, and even longer to connect Damian to the grieving child ordering him around in his memories.
This kid had clearly taken a dip in a Lazarus Pit, but he didn’t show any outward signs of it other than the glowing eyes. But then again, neither did Cass or Damian, and they had also been revived. Maybe it was because Jason’s experience had been so long after his death?
Man, he had a long conversation with Damian coming.
“Hey, kid.” Jason held his hand out, causing Danny to look up at him. “I’m gonna give you a way to contact me. Use it when you figure out the memory thing and we can chat more about the Pit and whatever the hell ecto is.”
“Yeah, uh. Ok.” He pulled out a phone that was unfamiliar, not any name brand Jason knew was popular. “I’m pretty sure I could just use Corespeak, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a more human way to talk.”
“I’m gonna pretend you said something normal and move on with my day, Danny.”
Danny just grinned at him, a few too many teeth and sharp canines showing. He had stopped feeling like he was being hunted, so it seemed like the kid was just being a little shit.
Numbers exchanged (and a tracker placed in the kid’s phone speaker), Jason went back up to the front desk.
“What the hell, Jason?” Barbara said behind her teeth. “Why would you follow an unknown and possibly dangerous person? I get he’s just a kid but what if he was a clone?”
“I prolly would’ve shot him, Barbie.” He patted the area of his waistband where he kept his gun in civilian clothing. “Besides, I got the kid’s number and more information. Gotta run though, dinner awaits.”
“Jason Todd-Wayne you cannot leave without sharing that information.”
“Not my info to share, Barbara Gordon. You’ll get it through the grapevine like normal.” Once again ignoring her disapproval, Jason left.
His safehouse turned apartment smelled like the takeout Damian had clearly ordered.
“Need me to tell Alfred you won’t be there for dinner?” He called out as he closed the door behind him.
Damian clicked his tongue against his teeth, frowning. “I suspect Pennyworth already knows.”
“Yeah, prolly.” Jason took a seat at the island again, this time next to his brother. “Hey, I might have some news for you.”
Ignoring Damian as he paused to receive information, Jason reached for the container that had his usual order in it. He opened it and shoved a fork-full in his mouth.
“Spit it out, Todd.”
Damian surely didn’t learn the patience that most assassins in the League needed for missions. Careful of the audio feature of the cameras outside, Jason switched languages again.
“I think Danyal might still be alive.”
His brother’s fork hit the island with a clatter.
“Explain. Now.”