Chapter Text
Percy hadn't spoken since he was scooped up by Superman right before the bridge had collapsed. He said nothing as cops flooded the scene. He simply existed as a blanket was wrapped around his shoulders.
He didn't feel real, even as he was loaded into a car, taken to the police station. When the lady with an overly sweet voice tries to pry words from Percy, she's met with cold silence and a blank stare.
“Well, Perseus… We've contacted your stepfather. He should be here any minute.” The lady tells him. Percy doesn't react.
When Gabe does ultimately arrive, Percy cringes away, the first flicker of feeling cracking through apathy.
A cop, as well as the lady with the overly sweet demeanor, explain what happened in a hushed voice.
Smelly Gabe glances at Percy, loathing and vindictive.
“Keep him. I don't want anything to do with that little sociopath in the making. He's not even crying after his own mother died.”
Percy says nothing the entire car ride, letting himself sink into apathy so deep he's not sure he'll ever feel again.
Good. He doesn't want to ever feel ever again anyways.
His first impression of Gotham, was that it was dreary and smog ridden. The second, was that the sunrise, with its golden hues and pretty colors hidden by thick pollution, washed away the worst of the horrors, and illuminating new ones all the same.
They make it to an apartment in an old street where the buildings are crumbling and the air smells of rot.
When the lady knocks on the door, a dark haired man answers. He doesn't process much of what's said next, too busy staring at the man who had small little similarities with his momma.
“... Mother died.”
“... So what're you doing here?”
“... Last living relatives.”
And then suddenly the lady is gone, and the man is dragging Percy inside.
The apartment is just as shabby on the inside as it is on the outside. There's another kid inside, older than Percy.
He has curly black hair and true blue eyes. The older boy sizes Percy up with suspicious eyes and tensed shoulders.
Percy doesn't speak even in the slightest after his momma’s death. Can't even conceive of using his voice, when all that he can think of is the fact that his momma can never speak again.
Percy reaches for his cup on the counter, and in the process knocks over a half decent looking vase.
It shatters on impact. Jason startles, looking up from where he'd been curled up, reading.
Willis comes storming out of his room right after Percy hastily backs up.
“Who did this? Was it you, brat?” Willis demands of Percy. Percy shrinks, still silent.
Jason speaks up. “It was me, old man.” Percy stares at Jason, his eyes widening.
True blue meets sea green. Jason's eyes are steady, if closed off. Then he looks back at Willis.
“You're not lying just to protect the little brat, are you?” Willis interrogates. Jason never spoke to Percy, rarely even acknowledged Percy existed, despite the fact that they shared a room. Now, he was taking the blame for Percy’s mistake?
Percy had woken from another nightmare, as rain and thunder shuddered outside their windows. The smell of car exhaust and ozone lingers in his nose.
Breathing hard, he attempts to suppress his sobs, as Willis hated it when he cried. He's unsuccessful, crying harder and harder still.
Before long, Percy has a piercing headache. Normally, Momma would be here to soothe his cries. But she would never be there to soothe his cries again.
Suddenly, he's pulled into a firm hug. Still, Percy cries and cries, inconsolably. Because it is not his momma's arms that pull him close.
“C’mon. I know- Storms can be scary, right?” A voice murmurs quietly, attempting to soothe him.
“Very scary, right. But the noise is good, yeah? Much easier to find the scary stuff- shit, please just stop crying!” The voice rambles, sounding close to tears now too. Percy was starting to recognize the voice too.
“Damnit, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.” Jason's voice softened. “C’mon, please. Would a story help? I could read you a book?”
Percy feels Jason's arms leave him, and begins to panic harder. There's a quiet shuffling, and Jason's arms return.
He pulls Percy into his side, and starts awkwardly reading. Percy doesn't really comprehend what the older boy is saying, but the longer he reads, the calmer Percy’s racing heart becomes.
It's only after Percy falls asleep that Jason realizes that Percy has stopped crying.
“Jason, Jason, guess what!” Percy cries out, jumping onto what passed as Jason's bed, where Jason had fallen asleep with a book in hand.
Jason groans. “What-?”
“I drew us!” Percy exclaims, buzzing with energy. He shoves the yellowed, slightly crackly paper in Jason's face.
Jason sits up, and takes the picture from Percy’s hands. Theres a little red stick figure with a black squiggle on its head labeled ‘Jsan’, a blue stick figure with a black squiggle on its head labeled ‘me’, and a taller pink stick figure with a yellow squiggle aptly labeled ‘moma’.
Jason smiles. “That me?” He asks, pointing at the red stick figure, and Percy cheers.
“Yeah, I even have you wearing your favorite color!”
Jason gingerly places it on his wall, careful not to ruin the drawing.
“Right, let's go see what we can get you for breakfast.”
Only, when Jason and Percy exit the room, they find their mom in the kitchen, making food. Some of the weight on Jason's shoulders loosen.
“Jason.” Percy peers at his brother from his own bed.
“Whaat?” Jason groans, lifting his head up from his pillow.
“I'm cold.”
Jason tosses his blanket at Percy. Several minutes pass in silence, quiet and dark.
“Jason.” Percy breaks the quiet.
“What?”
“I'm tired.” Percy complains.
“Then go to sleep.” Jason grumbles.
“I don't wanna.” Percy whines. Jason throws his pillow at Percy.
“Then stop bothering me about it.” Percy gently tosses Jason's pillow back so he could sleep. Another moment of silence passes.
“Can you read me a story?”
“No.”
Jason had left like he usually did on Sundays. Willis was home tonight, and momma was on the couch. Her pupils were small as pinpricks as she stared up at the ceiling.
Percy had gone to his usual habit of going into his head and letting his expression go pleasant. This was obviously a horrible idea, the five year old learns in retrospect.
Willis broke Percy's daydream by shouting in his face. Willis grabs Percy by the wrist, his grip bruising as he tugs him up.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing boy, ignoring me?!” Willis screams. Percy glances to his momma. She doesn't seem to even register what's happening.
“No, you look at me when I'm talking to you, freak!” Willis grabs him by the jaw, forcing Percy to look at the man who resembled his first momma.
Percy squeezes his eyes shut. And then there's the feeling of hands around his throat. Percy’s eyes shoot wide open.
He claws desperately, uselessly at the hands blocking airflow. Pipes burst, and the apartment starts to flood as Percy's vision darkens, swimming to nothing.
Then, Percy can breathe again. Jason heaves, bloodied wrench clutched in hand, standing in front of Percy, who's crumpled on the floor.
His brother is silhouetted by light, his dark hair almost haloed, like an angel.
Later that night, as Percy slips into Jason's bed, Jason hands him a Batman figurine. “This, is my promise to you. No matter what, I will always be there to save you. Even if I'm not physically there, I'll find whatever ass hurt you, and I'll fucking beat them. I promise.”
“We should play superheroes again,” Percy declares from where he's boredly fidgeting on the floor by Jason's bed.
“Would I have to be your sidekick again?” Jason asks, looking down at Percy from where he's sat on his bed.
Percy considers the question. “Mmmm… No. You can be the main hero, and I'll be the villain!”
“Why do you want to be the villain?” Jason asks.
“So I can steal puppies.” Percy tells him, like it's a sacred truth of life. Jason nods.
“What's your villain name?”
“Sharkman!” Percy chirps. Jason looks at the younger with sheer incredulity.
“Aren't you already sharkman when you're a hero?” His older brother prompts.
“Why change an already perfect name?” Is the only explanation Percy will give.
“What are you doing out here!?” Jason yelps when he realizes Percy had followed him out.
“I wanted to help.” Percy chirps cheerfully. Jason glances towards their apartment building.
“Fine. But you have to promise to listen, and follow these rules.” Jason holds out his pinky. Percy accepts.
“Keep your chin up. Any sign of weakness, and you'll be screwed.” Jason warns.
“If you seem like an easy target you'll be taken right off the street. That said, stick to my side, and if we get separated- fucking book it, and find me.” Jason instructs.
Jason's birthday this year came with the bonus of going to Batburger. It was a rare treat, but Willis had decided that turning ten was enough of an achievement to visit the fast food establishment.
Percy is a ball of energy as Willis orders them the infamous Batburger and Joker Fries. When Percy opens his own toy, he gets Robin.
Percy has never seen Robin up close, but the figurine displays him with a playful air. Catherine catches Percy by his hood, and Percy goes still. The faint memory of hands around his throat triggered by the breif lack of air make him suddenly mellow.
“Percy, dear. Please calm down, or you'll have us thrown out.” His momma murmurs. Percy obediently slides into a seat next to Jason.
“Jaaaason. Happy birthday.” Percy says for the millionth time.
“Thank you.” Jason replies for the millionth and one time.
“Did you know that whales molt?” Percy prompts the table. Willis pointedly ignores Percy, while Catherine gives him an indulgent, distracted smile.
“How’d you know that?” Jason asks.
“A trout told me. They’re huge gossips. Very sick around here though.” Percy responds brightly.
Jason stares at Percy like he's grown a second head.
“Trout can't speak.”
“Yes they can!”
Jason lightly shoves Percy, and Percy shoves Jason back.
Willis was arrested on the night of Percy’s sixth birthday. The day after, the same lady that brought Percy to live with the Todd's comes to do a surprise check in.
She inspects every inch, quizzes their momma in a private room, before moving on to Percy and Jason alone respectively.
Percy wails when she suggests taking him away, begging her to let him stay. It takes Jason hours to soothe Percy even after she leaves.
The only thing more miserable than a Gotham winter, is a Gotham summer. The sweltering heat is unbearable, and it makes the rot spread faster.
Desperation breeds more violently as food goes bad faster, and thirst becomes more prevalent. Percy watches on in silent misery as their momma grows sicker, and Jason thinner.
Sweat clings to their skin to their clothes. There is no escape, and the ache in their stomachs is paramount to doom.
So as Jason goes to steal more, scavenge more, Percy begins to learn the streets more intimately.
He's small, and quick, so no one ever expects his sticky fingers as he digs through pockets and purses. He's careful to avoid gang territory.
It was never enough, every dollar thieved, every coin stolen, was never enough. Their momma grew sicker, Jason skinnier and more worn.
Jason sits in front of Percy, patiently showing Percy how to trace his own name. It hardly works, the letters scrambling in his brain.
“That's ok. Writing is hard sometimes.” Jason tells him simply. It hardly does anything to console Percy.
“But I'm stupid! I can't even trace my name!”
“You're not stupid.” Jason disagrees.
“I am! I am I am I am!”
Jason taps Percy on the nose with his red crayon.
“You're not stupid if I say you're not stupid. You trust me not to lie to you, right?”
Percy deflates. “Of course I trust you!”
“Then trust that you're not stupid."
As the weather grows colder, Percy starts wearing his own coat. It's not a very great coat, but it shields him from the worst of the wind.
He wasn't having much success finding easy targets. He does find a rather shady looking kid with a purple t-shirt on. He was holding a takeout bag of Batburger.
Seeing it made Percy's stomach growl.
“Why aren't you wearing a coat?” Percy asks the shady looking kid. The brunette blinks at him.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because Gotham only does weather in extreme. You'll fucking perish when the sun sets.”
The older kid's eyes go wide in surprise after Percy swears.
“You got a mouth on you, kid.”
“Can I have your fries?” Percy asks.
“Can I have your coat?” The boy responds. Percy considers the trade. On the one hand, he'd be cold if traded it. On the other hand, joker fries.
“Deal.” Percy hands over his dusty blue jacket. The boy hands over the fries. They're cold. Figures…
“Are you an angel?” Percy asks Jason out of the blue one night, as he leans on his brother's side. Jason snorts.
“No.”
Percy frowns. He had been pretty sure Jason must be, because how else could his brother be so good, and take on so much, if he wasn't an angel?
After several more minutes of silence, comfortable despite what quiet usually leads to, Percy breaks the illusion of calm.
“Is it bad that I can't remember what my momma looked like? Or what she sounded like? Am I a bad son?”
Jason pulls Percy closer.
“I don't think so. I think you're pretty great, actually. Even if you can't remember what she looks like, or how she sounds, you still remember how she made you feel. You still love her. I like to think that means something.”
Percy looks up at his older brother, still ever steady, but no longer as distant as he was when they first met.
“You're the smartest person I know.”
Jason smiles, looking down at Percy. “You calling me a nerd?”
“Yes.” Percy responds simply.
It was mid November now. Momma lay sprawled on the couch. Percy had a steaming mug of cocoa in his hand, there was a mug of cocoa for momma and Jason too, but theirs were both untouched.
He sat enraptured, perfectly still as Jason sat in front of him, his legs criss cross, the book in his lap. Jason's voice is hoarse from reading.
“... Athena said in outrage, ‘This is monstrous! You need Odysseus to come back home and lay his hands on all those shameless suitors!’...”
Percy adored the voices Jason made for everyone that spoke, from Telemachus to Athena.
Jason was going to be so pissed. He'd explicitly told Percy to stay home after the latest Arkham breakout. But then he'd heard the screams, and looked outside and saw the warm glow of flames.
Percy doesn't really think. His body just sort of moves. Percy dashes out the door and out into the freezing night.
But he's too late. By the time he gets there, the sound of wood creaking and groaning echoes through the street. The air is scorching hot that chases away the bitter cold, smoke billowing. The building collapses moments later.
Percy spots Batman pulling one of the working ladies who lived there free moments before the building collapses.
It's the first time he ever sees Batman save someone from the Alley.
Percy has come to the conclusion that the only way they can pull themselves out of this constant hunger and cold, is through an idiot rich family.
So he carefully picks an outfit, and sets out into the cold December night. His momma doesn't react as he leaves, still staring blankly at the ceiling.