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“You’re what?”
Evan can’t meet Bruce’s eye, his duffel bag already packed and his foot halfway out of the door. “I can’t stay, Bruce.”
“What are you talking about?” Bruce says. “You have a life here. The Jason Todd Initiative—”
“Has a board and committees and people who are qualified and capable of taking over.” Evan swallows. “It’s not forever. At least, I don’t plan on it. I just… I can’t stay here. Where I’m just, just haunted by him. Doing what I’ve done, everything I’ve done these last few years, it was a dream. It really was. But you always have to wake up. And I think I finally am. And I realized that even when I wake up, I’m still stuck in this nightmare where he’s gone and I’m alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Dick says. “You have us.”
Evan turns away, biting the inside of his lip. “You know that’s not what I mean.” His eyes sting with tears. “Jason inspired me to do something great. And I did. But I still don’t know who I am without him. And I… I need to figure that out for myself.”
“So you’re leaving,” Bruce says.
“I’ve been stuck here in Gotham my entire life. I want to see the world. I want to know who I am when I’m not anchored to this city. I need to make my own memories in places he’s never been because I… I just need to learn how to live without him. Because I think that deep down, no matter the good intention, it was always about him.”
“I understand,” Bruce says.
“Call,” Dick says with a soft smile. “And send us the stupidest postcards you can find.”
“And you better bring me a souvenir,” Tim says.
“I will,” Evan says with a smile.
And so Evan starts his journey.
Evan has gotten to the point in his life where he has accepted that he is a person with wealth.
Before, it had been Bruce’s money. Money that he didn’t earn and would be stealing from Bruce.
But now he’s an accomplished businessman and philanthropist. His efforts have gotten him more money than he knows what to do with and though most of it will continue to go to charity and absurdly large tips, he is finally going to spend it on himself
He starts with a roadtrip around America, stopping by every state and exploring the iconic tourist spots but also going to the places less cared about. Cities like Crime Alley had been that he can spend a few weeks volunteering at local underfunded schools, food distribution centers, and homeless shelters, never revealing enough about himself to tip off the press because he isn’t doing this for publicity, he just wants to give back, and then giving a generous donation before he leaves.
The press picks up on it because of course they do. But Evan’s efforts for anonymity has only seemed to win over the public more and luckily, people recognize what he’s doing and also respect his privacy and intention.
After he’s been to every state, he heads down to South America.
There’s different people with different causes in South America and he educates himself before he does anything.
He isn’t qualified to and doesn’t have the right to butt into any of the socioeconomic struggles of their country, so Evan puts his focus elsewhere.
He plants trees.
It’s repetitive and just monotonous enough that his mind can go blank for a while. And, well, it’s good for the environment.
Jason cared about many things, but deforestation wasn’t really high on his list.
This is something just for Evan.
Evan loves trees. Loves nature in general. Has always found a beauty in ecosystems and the diversity of the flora and fauna.
So many times, Jason found Evan nose deep in a book about a different species or corner of the world that they could only dream of seeing in person. Jason never got it, but he humored Evan.
And now Evan is seeing it all, up close and real.
He helps rehabilitate wild animals that were abused and trafficked because he sees too much of himself in them and is overwhelmed with pride every time he saves one of them.
Save. A concept that Evan has had such a complicated relationship with, and he’s realizing that he likes it a lot.
He gets into conservation, gets hands on experience with things he’s been reading about for years.
And then, he just travels.
No destination. No purpose. Just getting to connect with the forest and his own heart.
And he does.
He isn’t anyone when he’s in the forest. It’s just himself and his mind.
And it’s a little dangerous, being alone with his mind, because when there is no buffer, no one to appease or pretend for, Evan gets to process his thoughts by himself for himself.
He lets himself get consumed by his grief. Lets himself feel because he knows that grief is nonlinear and recovery is a process.
But maybe there’s something to be said about surrounding yourself with loved ones when you’re mourning.
Maybe there’s a reason he hasn’t been left alone with his mind.
He’s in a rainforest east of the Andes, staring with astonishment by colorful frogs that cling to the trees, when a horned marsupial frog (Gastrotheca cornuta, his mind supplies, a nocturnal species with a call like a champagne cork being drawn) falls from the top of the canopy.
Evan feels his heart stutter.
The frog is long dead, the damage from impact completely disfiguring it, and Evan can’t help but mourn the frog that he had only just met, too late, always too late.
He cradles the frog in his palms, running his trembling thumbs over the back of its head.
You can save him.
Evan startles, looking around him. “Hello? Who’s there?”
You can save him.
Evan looks down at the frog in his hand and watches in horror and awe as its wounds begin to stitch themselves together. The grass around him starts to wilt, the radius growing as green turns brown then charred black.
Evan looks around with confusion but his head snaps back to his hands when he feels a wiggle in his palms.
The frog blinks at Evan, its tiny mouth letting out a squeaky chirp.
The frog that was just dead.
The frog jumps out of his palm and he watches as it makes its way back up the tree that it had just fallen to its death from.
Evan stares at his hands and the disembodied words echo in his mind.
You can save him. You can save him. You can save him.
Evan’s shaking, full bodied and uncontrollable. He steadies himself on the tree beside him and feels power surge through him.
The tree decays beneath his touch and for the first time since he could remember, Evan feels powerful.
There’s no quantifiable evidence of it, no way he could prove it without a test, but something in him knows, like a toxin burnt out of his blood and evaporated away.
He knows that he’s cured.
The years of treatment, the years of suffering, the years of a body that would always betray him, all leading to this moment of pure relief.
The wonder is quickly replaced by dread.
You can’t just… cure yourself of HIV. You can’t just bring dead things back to life. You can’t steal the life from something to give it to something else.
But Evan can. Evan can and the power courses through him and it’s exhilarating, addicting.
And Evan is nothing if not a man of curiosity. He needs to understand everything about his power, and with his mind clouded by the buzz of ferocious want, his body all craving the electric rush again.
Evan had never been an addict, never had the means to do it, and would never dream of getting hooked on something that would take him away from Jason. He had seen how it sunk its claws into Catherine Todd, deteriorating her slowly and drawing her back in over and over again.
He didn’t understand it. Didn’t know how it could be strong enough to destroy yourself for it. Didn’t understand how you couldn’t just stop.
But now he knows. He knows he doesn’t want to ever lose this feeling. Knows that without it, he would be an empty husk now that he knows what it’s like to feel full.
He stays in the forest, secluded away from civilization, free to experiment and a miles of plantlife to experiment on.
He can manipulate the lifeforce of a plant, making its grow until it’s unruly and untamed or wilt it until it’s nothing but decay. He can shift a being through the stages of its life. He can turn the corpse of a butterfly into a little caterpillar. He can turn a seed into a tree.
He revives.
He heals.
He kills.
It shouldn’t feel this good to kill. To pull the lifeforce from a living soul and feel it settle inside of him, thrumming like carbonation beneath his skin, ready to be released.
He plays with life and death, killing to revive, harming to heal.
And with every sweet taste of lifeforce that burns through him, his mind becomes more and more muffled.
It’s like a neverending starvation, ravenous and desperate for another fill.
When trees and bugs don’t satiate the hunger, he knows he needs more.
You need more. More. MORE. M̶̱͚͛͗O̶͔͑̃R̴̠̠͕̂E̴̼̹̔͝͠.
He does. But there are no worthy targets to feed from here. No. An innocent creature does not deserve to be drained of its lifeforce just to feed him.
Lifeforce is a privilege. And he knows exactly of the people who have lost their right to keep it.
It’s a week’s journey to the maximum security prison that holds the once rogues.
Getting past the guards is easy. A quick tug at their lifeforce and they’re down for the count. They should be out for an hour. He only needs a few minutes.
He runs his fingers against the walls, the rapacious want insistent, pulsing through him as if it impatiently waits in anticipation.
There is mold hidden in the wall and Evan pulls at its lifeforce, sighs as it settles deep within him.
They’re lined up, cell next to cell, a buffet of lifeforce just waiting to be consumed.
They all look at him with disdain. The man that put them there suddenly here for a visit.
Some rage at the impenetrable barriers, wanting to get their hands on him.
They all have eyes for him, but he is only looking for the inhabitant that should be occupying the empty cell.
The Joker has escaped.
Alright. If Joker wants a chase, then he will hunt him down himself.
He chuckles lowly.
He holds his hand to the ground and it rumbles beneath his touch.
Decay spreads through the concrete, roots pushing through the cracks and latching themselves around the ankles of his feast.
He sucks the lifeforce of Ivy first, knowing that she can manipulate the plants as well as he can.
It’s then that the rogues realize that this isn’t a friendly visit and that they are in danger. That Evan is a danger.
They scream in vain. No one will hear their pleads.
He feels like a glutton, the overwhelming influx of lifeforce building inside of him, utterly intoxicating. He feels high on it.
He stalks through Gotham, barely recognizable with the way his veins run gold, the glow of lifeforce surrounding him like a forcefield, his eyes manic and vengeant.
But when he goes to Jason’s grave, there is no lifeforce to revive.
There is nothing at all.
Jason’s body is nowhere to be seen.
Evan claws at the ground with his bare hands and his heart catches in his throat as he sees the coffin, broken and empty.
Evan feels his knees give out, kneeling in Jason’s empty grave, and he screams.
All of the pent up lifeforce explodes out of him, leaving him feeling empty and numb.
He prys himself away from the grave, feeling nothing but a cavity where his heart should be.
And as he walks away from the cemetery, he doesn’t see the bodies begin to dig themselves out from beneath the soil.
.-~*~-.
They get the message when they’re already too late.
They had just gotten off a long patrol, and they’re in high spirits.
Damian, an unexpected though not unwelcome addition to the family, has started to find his place now that he has stopped antagonizing Tim and learning to trust them, as well as them learning to trust him.
They’ve tried to tell Evan about Damian, but Evan has been AFK as he backpacks through the Amazons, so they haven’t been able to reach him.
They can’t imagine that he won’t welcome Damian in with open arms, though. Evan has never been one to turn away kids that need support.
They’ve all changed into sweats, freshly showered with the exhaustion settling in from their patrol, when the notification comes in.
A break in at the prison holding the rogues.
Bruce immediately pulls up the security footage and his breath hitches when he sees the perpetrator.
They’ve got an otherworldly, ethereal glow to them, making their skin and features imperceptible on the grainy prison camera.
“I don’t recognize them,” Dick says.
“A new player?” Tim says, narrowing his eyes at the footage. “Do you think they’re breaking them out?”
They kneel and hold their hand to the concrete and it begins to crack, plants gripping around the rogues.
And then…
And then.
It’s like their bodies are being drained of life, aging accelerator and making them turn from healthy and alive to rotting corpses, charred and decaying as what’s left of them clings to their bones.
It’s horrifying. It’s revolting. And it’s clearly dark magic.
Every one of the rogues held there are unequivocally dead. Beyond dead.
They’re all stunned into silence, staring as the faceless killer leaves as if they had never been there.
“Holy shit,” Tim breathes.
Bruce purses his lips.
Dick nods, mouth agape. “Yeah. Holy shit.”
Dick can tell that Bruce wants to investigate immediately, to loop the footage until he gets some semblance of answers, so he places a grounding hand on his shoulder.
“Not tonight,” Dick murmurs and Bruce goes lax under his touch.
“I know,” Bruce says.
“You don’t have to like it,” Dick says. “But it’s for the best.”
Bruce huffs. He turns to the rest of his sons and smiles. “I think I need a cup of tea. Would you like to join me?”
And so they sit together, sipping on chamomile lavender tea and doing their best to clear their minds of the horrific, gorey sight that they just witnessed.
Bruce mulls over what they had seen, and when he wakes the next morning, the investigation starts.
There isn’t much that the video can tell. There’s multiple angles, cameras in every cell and lining the hall, but each video is inconclusive.
There is no way of telling the motive of this new killer. No sign of them before this first slaughter, no sign of them after. No way to tell if they are as indistinguishable in person as they are from a camera lens.
Their face is obstructed by their glow, their build is tall but not broad so they obviously don’t rely on brute force, instead focusing their power in their dark magic. It’s uncertain if they have a personal grudge against the rogues, if this was a message, or if they were just coincidental victims of their power.
Bruce rewatches the footage over and over again but the only pattern he can see is the rate of decay, the way their bodies seem to wither as if they are being pushed through time. And with every person killed, the killer glowed brighter.
He’s nose deep in this case when Alfred comes rushing down the stairs, eyes shell shocked.
“Master Bruce,” Alfred says. “You must come upstairs at once.”
Bruce follows Alfred, confused by his evasion of any clear explanation, but when he enters the drawing room, his breath gets stuck in his throat.
Sitting in the loveseat, caked in dirt but still so painfully recognizable, sits Martha and Thomas Wayne.
“Alfred,” Bruce says, voice tight with apprehension, disbelief thick because having hope will crush him. “What is this?”
“It’s them, sir,” Alfred says. “All morning there have been reports of those resting in Gotham Cemetery being revived back to life.”
Bruce looks at their hands and sees their gnarly, bloody fists. He shudders.
Suddenly his heart stutters. “Is Jason—”
“His grave appears to be broken from the inside.”
A broken sob escapes Bruce’s throat, drawing the attention of his parents.
“Alfred?” Martha says. “Who’s this?” She pauses and studies Bruce who is consumed by hiccuping sobs and hysterical tears. She stands, holding his face in her hands. She tilts him down to meet her eye. “Bruce?” she whispers.
“Mother,” Bruce manages to choke out.
“Oh, Bruce,” Martha says. “You’re all grown up.” She pulls him into a hug and it’s wrong. He’s too big, she’s too small, and it doesn’t feel familiar, but it feels safe. He falls apart in her arms, letting himself hold onto his mother that he had resigned himself long ago to never seeing again.
A large pair of arms wraps around him from behind and he sobs harder, leaning back into his father’s embrace.
They all dissolve into tears, just clinging onto each other, a boy who lost his parents and parents who never got to see their little boy grow up.
.-~*~-.
The investigation of the glowing killer is put to the side as Bruce has to help his parents acclimate with the present day. But really, Bruce is just taking any opportunity to spend time with his parents.
It’s definitely disorienting being just a decade younger than his parents. It’s disorienting having them there at all. But Bruce is not going to look this gift horse in the mouth and cherish whatever time he has with them.
He introduces his kids to their grandparents and is overjoyed to see how much his parents love them and how much they love his parents. He wishes Evan was home to meet them, but he knows that he’ll be home eventually, hopefully soon.
He also learns way too much about his parents and pseudo-parental figure and sees too much.
(He will never unsee Alfred in ropes with his mother between his legs and his father behind him. It will haunt his thoughts every time he meets the man’s eye. That’s what he gets for fetching them for family supper.)
He gets to know his parents in a way he never got the chance to when he was a child and they get to know the man that he had become.
They tell him they’re proud of him and Bruce will not be quick to admit how much he blubbered after hearing those words from them.
But Bruce knows that the euphoria can only last so long. Because he needs to figure out who resurrected the cemetery. And he has an inkling that their glowing killer has something to do with it.
Bruce also fruitlessly searches for Jason. Knows that his boy is wandering out there somewhere and hasn’t come home to him. He just doesn’t know why.
There’s so many questions unanswered. So many holes in this plot and he can’t find the threads to connect them.
And then all Hell breaks loose.
The Joker had escaped prison. Bruce knew this, saw his empty cell, and had been waiting with morbid anticipation on what the man planned to do.
And with Jason unreturned home, Bruce’s imagination runs wild of what could have possibly happened to his son.
.-~*~-.
Jason doesn’t remember digging himself out of his grave.
Doesn’t remember wandering around Gotham, catatonic and mindless, surviving through muscle memory. Just knows that one day he woke up, drowning and clouded with rage, gasping for air and forever changed.
Talia al Ghul tells him that he died. That she saved him. She doesn’t tell him how.
She shows him what Crime Alley is becoming because of the Jason Todd Initiative, led by Evan Todd. Shows him the replacement Robin which stings more than it should. Show him Joker who is still alive and kicking.
And Jason can see nothing but green.
He formulates the perfect revenge plot. Take Crime Alley as his. Force Bruce to choose between him and Joker.
But then… then Evan changes the plot.
Crime Alley is no longer a cesspool of crime and suffering. It’s… nice. It’s everything Jason could’ve dreamed of for his city and more. They even shed the name, returning back to Park Row.
Arkham Asylum is no longer a makeshift prison that barely kept its prisoners behind its doors and those prisoners were moved to an actual prison.
And as Jason sees his plans fall apart because Evan is just so good, he realizes he can’t go home. Not when he’s as broken as he is. He can’t ruin this.
Evan would probably describe it as second cryptogamic life-forms grouping together with lichens to rebuild in secondary succession, a decimated environment revived despite the odds.
Jason sees it like a wound healing. Their grief a dark, thick scab, but then fading away into a tough scar. And Evan is a phoenix erupting from the flames, so much better than he ever was with Jason.
And so Jason stays.
He stays in the League of Assassins because he no longer has a place in Gotham. His family moved on and they’re all better without him.
He starts to get a grip on the green and trains because that’s all he can do, all he’s good for.
He kills for them. He kills for him. And it feeds the green but it doesn’t fill the hole in his heart.
Jason gets to know Talia’s weird kid and Damian grows on him. Jason has never been the big brother before but he finds that he likes it.
He finds out that Damian is Bruce’s kid and the green takes over.
When he comes to, he starts to think about it, and he realizes that this changes nothing. Jason was more Bruce’s kid than Damian in every way that matters, he knows that. But still. Knowing Damian is connected to him by blood, guaranteed his love even if it’s obligation, he’s jealous.
Because he doesn’t know if Bruce would accept him anymore. His hands are soaked in blood and that last fight over Garzonas echoes in his mind.
So he stays because he’s scared and stays because he’s a coward and he stays because he’s ashamed of himself.
But then Damian wants to meet his father. And Talia sends Jason to watch over Damian.
So Jason goes to the place he’s avoided, filled with rose tinted memories and green tinted feelings, to protect his little brother.
He watches from afar and it kills him. He wants to run into Bruce’s arms and beg for his forgiveness. Wants everything to go back to the way it was before but stay the way it is now because this Bruce looks so content with himself and his life in a way he never quite was with Jason.
And Jason waits to see Evan, knows that he can’t be hermit enough that he’s nowhere to be found, but he doesn’t see even the slightest hint of him.
Everything is pretty boring to be honest. Damian isn’t the most exciting kid, even when he takes up the Robin colors.
Damian sneaks away to see Jason and he appreciates getting to have time with him, to not be constantly alone.
Jason gets comfortable with the calm.
But then Joker announces his return.
Jason knows that he needs to trail Damian, that he needs to protect him from the monster that took his life, but Jason feels paralyzed in the petrification.
When Jaosn catches sight of the Joker, every muscle in his body goes tense, freezing in the middle of a random rooftop, left there to do nothing but stare.
The bats haven’t arrived yet and Jason waits with bated breath.
But it’s not the bats who arrive.
A figure glowing so bright that it hurts to look at them approaches Joker from behind and wraps their hands around his neck.
The figure is silent. No anguished monologue. No shouts of anger. Just silent, seething fury.
And Jason watches speechlessly as Joker begins to decompose.
Jason doesn’t know how to feel. Relieved or revolted. Maybe both. Maybe nothing at all.
And then what is left of Joker drops to the ground and the figure that glows brighter and brighter falls to their knees and lets out a guttural scream.
Around them, every plant is reduced to ash and they glow brighter.
Jason realizes that their power is consuming them. That it’s building inside them and will burst if they keep leaching from everything around them.
Jason should run. Should protect himself from the inevitable explosion.
But something in him is magnetized to them and has him running across the rooftops to get to them.
The glowing figure, more light than person, trembles and sobs.
They look up at Jason and somehow Jason can see past the light and all he sees are the familiar sad blue eyes that have been seared into his mind since before he could remember.
“Evan?” Jason whispers.
“Jason?” Evan says, his voice shaking. “Jason. Jason!”
And then he’s pulled into his embrace, his power blazing against him and he feels a tingling warmth rush throughout him.
He doesn’t know how he knows, didn’t even know the feeling could be perceptible, but he feels Evan’s power leach away at the Lazarus Pit’s influence that has clouded his every thought clears away, leaving nothing but clarity and crushing grief.
The glowing dims until there’s nothing more, leaving just Evan who slumps into Jason’s hold.
Tears soak into Jason’s shoulder and he just clutches onto Evan tighter. Evan babbles muffled apologies, clinging to Jason as if he’ll disappear.
“I’m here,” Jason repeats.
“I’m sorry,” Evan replies.