A Different Grave, But a Death All the Same

by CarnivorousUsagi

Summary:

In the pivotal moment of Jason Todd’s revival, cosmic forces found a soul too damaged to survive resurrection. Not in this universe, at least. The solution? Find a similar soul already halfway dead.

Danny would like it on record that he did not sign up for this. But there’s smoke nestled against his ice core and a name of a boy he now shares a grave with—and that’s a start. He could do without the weird glowing blue system tailing him, though. Not that it’s going to stop him from doing things his way.

If he’s here to stay, then he’ll own it. Not just for himself, but in honor of Jason Todd, too.

Also, what is up with Gotham and their aggressively weird vigilantes? He already has a whole new family of assassins—he does not have time for capes on top of that!

Notes:

English is not my first language have mercy y'all

And also I love Jason Todd guys I swear-

Chapter 1: A Grave for Two

Warning: Timeline compromised. Narrative integrity at risk. Soul... damaged.

Solution: Substitute consciousness initiated.

 

---

 

It was a pretty standard day, all things considered—well, for Danny, anyway.

See, most teens don’t get handed a broom and told to sweep the lab in their basement. But hey, when your parents used to want to dissect you for science, a little cleaning duty feels downright heartwarming.

It’s… nice. Being trusted around the lab now that his parents know he’s half ghost and found it in themselves to accept him anyway. No more rants about “mindless ghosts,” no more suspicious glances—just full access to ghost-hunting gadgets and the freedom to use them on wayward ghosts. Honestly, it could pass as a family bonding activity– if one ignores the faint burn of ozone, weird green portals and the ever present sense of danger that is. 

The only problem? The wires currently sprawled around the lab’s floors. Too many than necessary in Danny’s opinion but he isn’t the scientists here. Whatever his parents were building this month had the lab looking like a spaghetti incident waiting to turn for the worse, by, say, coming to life. Even Vlad’s lab wasn’t this bad—and Vlad made a clone of Danny via his future evil ghost DNA (Don't ask, Danny does NOT want to know how the Fruit Loop did it). Jazz fixed that, somehow. Redemption by sibling therapy at its finest. Next up is probably finding Dani and making her stay longer than a day.

Alas, this is not entirely a month of miracles even if it's suspiciously lucky.

Thinking over clones and the newly renamed Dante Masters– because of course he re-branded– had, however, made Danny’s fears for sentient wired spaghetti taste far too real as his foot gets caught in one of the blasted wires. 

He stumbled forward. A crackle in the air, too faint it could be missed, follows.

And then there was a flash of light. A mechanical whisper. A hard pull on his ghost form and– 

[System Initiating Soul Retrieval— Host for Red Hood located.]

 

---

 

At first, there was silence. His core purrs for a moment. Almost like a moment it had waited for happened.

Then there was a sting that spreads to his chest. A phantom feeling of smoke enveloping ice and a whimper muffled behind a veil. Something wants to reach out. Crawl out of his ribcage. Scream for a desperate escape despite no sound being produced at all.

The silence doesn't feel peaceful anymore. Not with a storm finding its way to settle between his ribs and waiting to strike with a vengeance Danny isn't even sure is his to really grasp. Never mind the bizarreness of the situation because he distinctly remembered being in the lab. Falling from wires doesn't cause odd sensations from his core. It's not exactly a near-death experience either. So why couldn’t he open his eyes?

Then came a chill. Not the one that indicates a nearby ghost, no. It rings close the first time he transformed into his Ghost Form. This time however, it almost felt like sludge sinking to his skin before dispersing with an electrifying pulse that made his ears ring.

He opened his eyes with a raspy gasp. Only darkness greets him.

Then came pressure.

His body aches all over. Tension crushing his lungs and his heart beating hard against his ribcage as his hands blindly grab the fabric of his clothes in a desperate attempt for some relief. A rather futile attempt, but in Danny's defense his head felt like it got caved in before getting stitched back together again so pardon me, I can almost feel Dan mocking him!

The air still felt smothering. Or maybe he just doesn't have enough of it at all, which is silly because—

His head smacked into a hard surface above him. He tried to phase through it. Nothing happened.

Oh okay. So maybe panicking in this situation is justified.

He takes a breathe. Counted to seven. He's not even sure if the next one should be three. That's one breathing lesson Jazz taught him going to waste. It doesn't help his body felt foreign. Like he’d been crammed into clothes that didn’t fit and got buried in them. Or had it rebuilt but he got the wrong blueprint.

Ancients, even his core felt different! The ice was still there, but its threaded with smoke—heavy and bitter too, like something burnt refusing to fade (Sir Lancer would be proud Danny somehow made that sound vaguely poetic). From what he could tell, anyway, considering its suppressed. Like something was keeping it from fully surfacing.

But that isn’t the only thing wrong here. (And of course not. He's now running a new tab of unhelpful things he can list out for this bizarre situation caused by wire spaghetti.)

There was an unmistaken softness under his back that does not remotely feel like a bed. Wood is scraping his elbows as he tries to move around. His forehead bumped up against a polished surface above him when he tried to sit up through blurry vision. He can’t even tell if his eyes really are open with how dark it is. Barely registered the expensive suit. Everything felt smooth though–expensive even. Not just the suit but the wood he’s trapped in. Maybe mahogany? Sam’s place had a lot of furniture made out of it. Never as someone encased in it like a gift box. Or…

Is this a coffin?

Please tell Danny this isn’t what he thinks it is, because everything feels too real to be a dream. In fact, he’d appreciate a ghost-mode shortcut right about now. Can't he have those protagonist moments where his powers broke out of a seal at his greatest time of need? Please?

Of course nothing like that happened.

And then—

 

[System Booting: Host Confirmed—Jason Peter Todd]

[Soul Integration in Progress…]

[Time of Death: 03:12 AM. Cause: Blunt force trauma, explosion, and smoke inhalation. Estimated interment: 6 months.]

[Plot Priority: Unresolved]

 

A voice echoed inside his skull. Smooth and mechanical, like an AI had decided to go insane. Tucker would go nuts for something like that. 

“Wha— “ Danny croaked, or tried to. His tongue felt like lead at the moment. Worse, his lungs isn't pulling air in right anymore. Unsurprising, considering he’s currently in a coffin. Which, wow, he’s really breaking records here with how fast he moved on to acceptance.

 

[First Mission: Escape the cemetery]

 

If you hadn’t noticed, I’m still very much buried in a coffin over here! Danny wants to shout even as his body seems to move on its own. Like it knows what to do. And isn’t that a kicker, because why would anyone know what to do to get themselves out of a situation such as this one?

Just whose body is he occupying? 

 

[Failure to comply will result to mission failure] 

 

The voice droned on, completely unbothered by the fact that Danny didn’t understand a word of it. Nor can he mind it all that much right now, occupied as he is. His hands are moving on their own, clawing against wood. It brought splinters under his nails in the process which probably should've stung but it only made it apparent the numbness at the tip of his fingers. There was a growing desperation in his body's jerky movement. A totally understandable reaction considering all the oxygen Danny had wasted. It doesn’t stop the whimper torn out from his throat as soil poured into his mouth.

Unhelpful, because at the moment, he very much wants to scream.

He isn’t a legit zombie… right?

He doesn’t want to come to the surface to a zombie apocalypse. 

Despite his doubts, Danny broke the surface with a gasp that tasted like rot and storm-soaked earth brought by harsh rain. Mud clung to his face and smeared itself across it as he tried to get it off his eyes. His vision swam with it, the long line of tombstones standing tall blurring from view. It does not make anything better, but there are no wandering zombies, so he’ll take the small blessing.

He can almost hear Sam mocking him for such an impossibly low standard. 

 

[System synchronization at 46%]

[Warning: Internal contamination detected. Lazarus energy… unstable.]

 

Lazarus energy..? Danny thought faintly as he stumbled upright, legs barely remembering how to hold him. 

 

[Synchronization On Hold]

[Initializing Marionette Protocol.]

 

“W-what does that–” 

And then he was shoved under, and he couldn’t move the body any longer. Not that he could do so properly before with wobbly legs and aching fingers, but he’s now left with a bone-chilling feeling of his senses being there, but isn’t. 

Danny is getting tired of the chill. Another record really, considering his ice core and Far Frozen.

 

[User shall follow the plot under strict directive. Deviation is strictly prohibited until the Contamination Purge is Completed.]

 

The …system made an odd mechanical hum. If it were any more human, Danny would say it would have sounded contemplative.

 

[Anomaly Under Main System’s Que. This System thanks User for their Patience.]

 

I didn’t even get a choice in this? Danny wants to scream. Nothing of it even reached his tongue. He's getting tired of that too.

Still, his body continued to move. There’s no grace in it as he feels the drag of his feet and the splash of the mud as the rain shows no sign of stopping. It's far messier than he prefers, but his body is going out of the cemetery so Danny can at least consider that a win. He doesn’t have to find out what the punishment was today. He’s already being punished enough, and for being contaminated? That’s just rude. It’s not like he asked to be here.

 

[Mission: Escape the Cemetery Completed]

 

The system cuts his train of complaints. Voice as cold as ever, yet has an underlying edge than before. 

 

[50 Points had been added to User!]

 

There was fake confetti. Danny stared at it blankly. That triumph doesn't feel earned—not from the system, anyway, considering he and this body did all the work.

Speaking of, this body is still moving even as they leave the cemetery grounds. The wind tastes like smoke and wet concrete, but the body doesn’t react to it. Danny did his best to lifts his head—or rather, Jason’s—and stares up at the crooked sign as they pass under it.

Restwell Cemetery, Gotham.

Gotham. The name doesn’t ring any bells. It doesn’t sound like Amity Park, or anywhere near it. The unfamiliarity gnaws at him, though the body’s unnatural calm mutes the worst of it. Not that it helps much, even if autopilot at least gives him a direction to walk in.

Danny isn’t just out-of-state. This is... somewhere else entirely.

 

[Initializing Next Mission….]

[Mission: Escape the Hospital]

 

What hospital…? Danny questioned. He didn’t get far before he got his answer.

One second, he was stumbling along the edge of the road, soaked to the bone, leftover grime still clinging to his skin. Next, headlights were slicing through the fog. A horn was blaring loudly which made his ears ring.

His body tried to jump aside, but it wasn’t fast enough.

His body was hit by the front of a car. A wet crunch barely getting concealed by the pouring rain as the couple driving the vehicle looked at him in horror. The world went white the moment he slid down to the cold, harsh ground.

He wasn't sure how long he drifted in and out after that. Time blurred. Sometimes he was weightless, sometimes buried in pain. At times, he was lucid enough to hear beeping machines and hushed voices—none familiar. Sometimes, in the now familiar darkness, he could feel his body move without him. The system hums like the jury watching everything play out as it should be every time it does.

Every once in a while, in those irregular bouts of almost-lucidity, the smoke curled around his core would pulse, aching like a wound reopening. A name would rasp from his throat before he even realized he was thinking it, slipping out weakly like a plea.

“Bruce…”

Why did that name make his chest ache?

 

---

 

They said he was comatose.

A “John Doe,” ironically. No ID. Broken ribs, fractured arm, mild skull trauma. Whispers of being vegetative. Of Lazarus, when its Ectoplasm that’s very much in him. Because nothing could explain why his cells were regenerating too fast or why strange, green energy occasionally bled from his wounds. The hospital hadn’t noticed. But someone else clearly different from the other staffs had—and frankly, Danny didn’t have a good feeling about any of it.

So the next time his vision was greeted by the fluorescent lights and a faint buzz above his head, he knew he had to go. He’s not quite sure if the GIW still exists, but the scent of antiseptic is thick in the air and all the less comforting for his chances. 

He wants his clear head back. 

 

[Synchronization: Incomplete] 

[Memory Access: Restricted] 

[User Status: Disassociated]

 

The blinding screen blinked across his vision with a screech of digital static that only he could hear. It burned behind his eyelids even after it faded and consequently making the ache at the back of his head worse. Danny didn’t wait for it to pass as he pulled the IV from his arm, wincing as it tugged free leaving a red dot on the top of his palm. He doesn’t linger on it for too long as he stumbles to his feet. The hospital gown flapping uselessly against his legs as he grabbed a coat from a passing rack and staggered down the hallway. No one noticed.

It’s almost baffling how easy it was to get out through the door. 

 

[Mission: Escape the Hospital - Complete]

[50 points had been rewarded!]

 

The system probably wants to drone out more jargon that's worse than the ones his parents spew out, but Danny ignores it. Bold of him he knows, considering he needs it to survive. But it’s also the reason he’s here in the first place. Not really a great start for him to trust it just like that either.

Despite his reservations however, the bright line of blue continues to burn its way to his peripheral vision, and everything was a blur after that. Something to do with coping mechanism, Danny is sure Jazz would say. He won’t even fight her on it because being unable to move his body the way he wants to is not doing wonders to someone's mental health. It takes great effort to even do so, on the few times he does manage it. 

(The smokey thing now nuzzling his core would hum every time he manages to take hold of his body too. Danny likes to think he's being cheered on. He calls it Smokey now as a promotion as his new weird best friend.)

Exhaustion filled his days even now. Especially with the system's frankly ridiculous requirement of [Avoid the Bats]. Whatever that means. This body clearly knows what it's doing though, since it proved itself far more trustworthy than the system as it navigates the alleys of what he discovered to be Gotham. Or Park Row. Or Crime Alley. Danny isn’t local enough to know. What he does know is that the city earned its moniker because these alley crimes are vicious. 

It reaffirms this notion even now as a man tries to beat him up for taking his spot, like he has any actual claim to it. Who beats up a kid? Apparently this asshole! Danny doesn’t even feel bad when his body retaliated in return. With precision and power he didn’t recognize even as felt himself flip and land on broad shoulders. One hit to the head and the man went down hard. Danny staggered after, blinking. His hands were still clenched into fists.

“Cool,” he muttered, breath ragged. “That definitely was not normal. What the hell.”

He doesn’t like the way the system gives out a pleased hum. He can tell by now. That it's more sentient than what it lets on. He barely even noticed the man in the corner gaping at him if not for the faint blue highlight around his body. To that, Jason can safely say what the fuck?

 

[Chance Encounters: Meet Talia Al Ghul]

 

Who the hell is Talia Al Ghul?

Not someone that can be considered good news considering the twitch of his fingers and the heat rising up at his core. The woman meant business. Danny isn't sure its the kind he'd be all that pleased to have as company.

Besides, chance encounters? Nothing had ever been by chance with the system around. It's usual prompts are usually issued like a command. The constant [Survive the Day] and [Steal clothes from a clothing store] made that clear by now.

In what feels like an almost mutual sense of clarity on both body and core, Danny threw himself into doubling his efforts to hide his tracks. Every corner he had memorized and safe zone he mentally marked were cycled with a dedication that would probably make Sir Lancer cry in tears with a book cover muttered under his breathe. Maybe even an encouragement for him to put that energy into his studying too.

Smokey hums at the thought of it. He swore he heard a whisper of Pride and Prejudice when he passes by a rundown library nearby the new alley of the week. It felt almost nostalgic. Although sometimes the smoke pulses weirdly on certain alleys too. It makes him hear the sound of rolling tires, the clang of metal and a voice going What are you doing? in a weird voice sounding vaguely like they're trying to be this edgy creature of the night. Running a light commentary settles the smoke just as effectively.

(Some alleys have flickers of ghosts in them too, with one of them with a fancy looking couple that looked like victims of a shooting who waves at him when he passes. Danny wished he could wave back. They seem nice)

But of course, because the universe is out to get him, all this effort went down the drain. As the ever-persistent prophecy brought by the system's obvious strings, he meets Talia Al Ghul on a shady alley of the week. Because if he won’t come to her, Talia Al Ghul will. And what a sight she is to behold. Terrifying yet soft around the edges. A rather conflicting impression, surely, but that was the impression Danny got from her core.

And Oh Ancients, to think he’ll find someone with a core? Danny would probably look more surprised if his face weren’t frozen stiff. This doesn’t stop his eyes from tracking the way her core —bright and almost ancient even if its still very much mortal– burns a faint yet strong green. It almost felt like something carved from green fire that even got Smokey wanting to reach out for a second before faltering last second. Impossibly, this made her core calmer, sending a message that this one has no desire to kill him either.

Danny refuses to call it fate. 

“Oh, Jason..” she starts. “What has happened to you? How did you come back?”

He doesn’t answer. She doesn’t seem to mind it. Instead, she puts her hands on his shoulders and guides him away from the City he has come to know. Its shadows reaching out on the shadows of his feet, yet doing nothing to stop Talia Al Ghul from taking him away. 

 

[New Arc Opened: The League of Assassins]

[ERROR]

[ERROR]

[Synchronization: Frozen]

[Anomaly still Under Review Que. User is advised to continue as Normal]

 

What even is his life anymore, really?

 

---

 

If Danny had a nickel for every suspiciously rich and shady man with white streaks in his hair looking at him like meat, he’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. He prays it doesn’t happen a third time. That is not a pattern he wants in his life, thank you.

At least Ra’s al Ghul has more style and presence than Vlad ever did. Still creepy? Absolutely. But there’s a burn in his eyes and core that feels far more dangerous than Vlad’s grasping obsession. Far more commanding than the Fruit Loop, surely. And he thought Talia Al Ghul was intimidating… she at least was softer about it even with [Demon's Daughter] as her glowing blue title. (That Danny totally didn't miss on their first meeting what are you talking about?)

Ra's al Ghul also got [Demon’s Head] as his introduction of a title. Big yikes. 

Him telling his daughter—to her face—that her beloved won’t love her back, no matter how tenderly she nurses Jason Todd back to life? Double yikes.

It explains Talia’s motivations a bit better. Clears up the why, if not the how. But it still does nothing to explain why she’s been so soft with him. As soft as the daughter of the Head of an assassin cult can be, anyway. Surely it's not just because of the core thing? Nobody seems to be aware of the core thing if them not reacting with anything but weird looks every time he tries communicating with his has anything to go by.

At least it got Smokey poking at him curiously. It went back to nuzzling his core though, albeit with more force than usual. Maybe he's nervous around the Al Ghuls? Not that Danny can blame it considering they're in a literal nest of assassins.

Having said that, perhaps he also should've expected the training. If you can call those sessions that.

Danny is unashamed to admit those were a bit of a haze. Talia would put him in a room and then he’ll get attacked to prompt his body into action. And boy, did his body move. He isn’t sure what Jason’s parents were feeding him but it definitely was something. If only he had more autonomy over said body.

…Considering the damage done to Jason though, according to the clinical precision of the doctor Talia brought in if he was to be believed, Danny understands the headaches now. Whoever hurt Jason that badly wasn’t just cruel, they were practically inhuman. It made the whole revenge gig the system had been crowing about make a lot more sense. It didn’t make it any better though. Just…made it make sense. 

Did they have to say it when he was around though? Granted, they probably thought he wouldn't understand considering the state he's usually seen it but Ghost etiquette really is non-existent here! Poor smokey was practically shaking in distress its a wonder it took Talia to notice of it despite her lack of experience with cores! (Never mind Danny not expecting the distress too, but perhaps Smokey's origin is….)

Then there was the moments with Talia herself. 

She had watched over him rather diligently for a woman of many goals and responsibilities. And if the kid he saw glimpses of from time to time is any indication, Jason isn’t the only one that needs her care either. Regardless, she speaks to him softly about things he isn’t sure if he should fully believe in. The way Jason’s emotions surged in reaction to some of her words lent them weight, sure, but her angle? Her intent? That was harder to pin down.

She’s doing this for her “Beloved” who Danny had long deduced to be Jason’s father. But is that really all there is to it? Is that all the reason she needs to call him Jason with warmth in her eyes and a quirk of her lips? For her to look at him like he was someone worth saving?

 Or was it for her to become someone that even this body knew instinctively it could never harm?

Is this the care one gives a weapon? Or is he just too deep into the whole assassin cult mindset to tell the difference anymore?

Maybe there is something here she sees—something she felt compelled to salvage and nurture. 

Maybe that’s why she slapped him across the face after he beat down everyone else who so much as raised a hand against him. Why she screamed at the doctor on the verge of giving up on his “recovery”, swearing he would never fight back if she was the one hurting him.

He couldn’t correct her. Part of him thinks he wouldn’t even if he could, and how fucked up is that? He isn’t truly Jason. But if this cold, terrifying woman had seen something worth saving in him—

Part of Danny wants to see it too. 

Even if he wasn’t sure where Jason ended and he began anymore.

(Smokey shakes around his core almost like he was crying. For the first time, Danny reached out with his own core too.

 

In his grasp is fragmented smoke, but perhaps there's a way to recover more? Maybe not just for Jason but for the person who refuses to give up hope.)

 

---

 

Talia tells him things sometimes. About fathers, sons, and regrets. Of a man too deep into thinking himself rational, yet loses himself too easily to grief. She doesn’t always say it outright, but the things she mentions always stir something in his chest as usual– even if the system keeps Jason’s memories locked tight. Smokey (Jason?) fills the gaps with figures that often slip like sand if he try grasping it too long.

Jason seems to still remember his father, even with merely shadows of his name and fragments of what he used to be.

Now, Danny and Talia sat at a cliff’s edge, watching the sun make its slow descent. 

”He misses you, honestly, I can tell,” she starts softly. She didn’t have to specify who. She never found the need to. 

“Since he lost you, he’s changed. He’s becoming …unforgiving. I know that most don’t see that quality in him..but you know”

I don’t. Danny wants to scream, chest aching as feelings not even his own latch upon his lungs. I don’t because I don’t remember. I don’t because I’m not Jason. 

Smokey hums, digging itself a little deeper into ice.

”I know it too,” she continues, unaware of his plight. Stuck as he was underneath the flesh and blood the system had turned into his prison. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to move. To yell. Because Danny never did stop fighting, even as he finds himself slowly acclimating to the body he now inhabits and accommodating fragments not fully his. For even if his body moves in the battle of the training room, the souls nestled between his ribs never stopped crying for more. 

All he feels now is this deep ache, he doesn’t know if it's his own. The restlessness that comes with it. The faint smell of iron even if all he should register is the tang of earth.

He almost didn't register Talia's perfume. A rarity, but today is one of those peaceful days. The hand Talia resting gently on his shoulders giving a brief reprieve from the chaos brewing in both his mind and body. Made it easier to bear the forced stillness enforced upon him because even here, the system watches from above his head.  

“I think you, and Dick Grayson, gave him light,” she murmurs. “Gave him hope.” 

She removed that hand all too soon, even as her voice felt like a soft caress carried by the wind. 

”He feels responsible for you. Your loss is his failure. He misses you.”

He feels his hands tremble as every word leaves her lips. A shift. A pull and the rise of smoke as something surges—

“Jason..?”

And tears slip down his cheeks. 

One. 

Then two. 

And it wouldn’t stop. 

He doesn’t know whose emotions it is he’s feeling. Whose pain this grief wants to settle to even as it digs itself deeper between his ribs. Maybe it’s Jason’s. Maybe it’s Danny’s. Maybe its a hybrid of both as the line between them starts to blur after so long coexisting with smoke and ice almost intertwined the longer this charade goes on.

He can’t see the expression Talia is wearing upon such a display. If her actions for all the times she had taken care of him are any indication, though, he knew it wouldn’t be judgement. Not with this camaraderie she thinks they have standing as foundation. Not with the gentle crackle of blue flames impossibly reaching out for the first time like a shadow of an instinct he does not quite know the nature of even now. The hand that landed at the back of his head didn't exactly make it clearer. Despite his musings however, the hand stays steady. He's familiar with it by now, even down to the callus embedded into her skin. 

He leans against it without meaning to. Or is it Jason that’s chasing it?

It doesn’t feel like it matters much. Not against the warmth of the setting sun and the gentle breeze, at least. He felt in sync with this body for once. More settled. 

Or maybe its the green flames purring back? Danny isn't sure he truly wants to know just yet. But…

Just this once, he doesn’t want to feel guilty for receiving the care meant for Jason. This time, he wants to accept it for himself. For this body may be a tomb for two dead boys, but both deserve something out of it, right?

 

[Mission: The Warmth at Cliff’s Edge Completed! Congratulations! 50 points had been added to the User's account!]

 

Could you have chosen to come later? Danny thinks bitterly. 

But he lets it be. Let's all that is unspoken be buried under the sea as the sun soon gets swallowed by the horizon. Dual cores in sync as fragments that almost feels like fire cools itself to dig deeper into an ice berg.

Someday, he’ll be able to say it. Someday, the fate written by one dead robin will grow its own wings. 

 

---

 

Talia drags him down a winding staircase, embraced by shadows that leads to a secret base. Which, okay— Danny should probably be more concerned about, considering this is the League of Assassins. Rationally speaking, nothing about this screams “safe”. But he trusts Talia. Every logical impulse tells him not to trust a literal assassin, of course…but Danny trusts her. Smokey does too. He would even go as far as to say it's down to his core– for hers never truly lied to him either. It burned like a wildfire: fierce, focused, unyielding. And right now, it burns with purpose.

And when they were met with corrupted ectoplasm that made both of their cores sing? It felt inevitable that he would dip right into its water even without the system blaring it as destiny. Fate. Whatever. Does it matter when he falls into its pits? When it swirls around his form like a siren pulling him deeper into bringing him back home?

He barely even registered the system glowing blue in celebration to a mission done considering the ectoplasm glows brighter. Perhaps another point he should also be concerned about. Him going along with the missions issued by the system with less resistance than before.

Such worries didn't stay long however, as his core starts to burn. Smokey seemingly screaming as his fragments stitch itself together even in its state of being embedded into Danny's. Almost like molten lava going through a crystallization process as it met ice.

Then came the static. An almost mechanical scream that accompanies the one now escaping his throat as he feels his body and core fracture and reforms. The ectoplasm invades every inch of him. Surging through bones, his flesh, his marrows, and cleansing everything it touches as it goes. Even the system.

Holy shit. Even the system.

It fought hard against it, but Danny’s core sings louder with renewed vigor. Another joins in– Angrier. Familiar. Still Smokey, but sharper now, like a crystal piercing through rebirth

And as the song turned into a chorus, the boy knew then that the system wouldn’t win. Not here. Not in this grave. Not as the core between his ribs cools into a crystal worthy of being embedded into a throne. For a moment, Danny could even fool himself into thinking there's another voice singing with him. A distant burn of something ancient yet bold. The Lazarus Pits flaring green at the embers of an unspoken blessing. Shining brighter than it ever has as it swirls around the body of a boy. It siphoned over what appears to be a glowing crown before it sinks deep into the pit and cleanse everything in its wake. Even the other occupant of its pools that had froze at the sight of it all was embraced by the Pit, as if coaxing him to join the cycle anew.

And as Danny rose, eyes a toxifying green, he met Ra’s Al Ghul’s gaze. 

The Demon’s Head stills at the weight of it, expression twisting momentarily like a knife unsheathed. Then it cools to something worse– calculation. Like he’d just unearthed the answer to an eternal mystery. Like a miracle now balanced on his fingertips.

Behind him, Talia stood with a bag carelessly discarded on the ground. Her gaze has an equal intensity to her father’s, yet holds fascination. Triumph. A match catching fire, and the world with it in her grasp.

Even the assassins watching in silence from the shadows don’t move. Frozen stiff into uncertainty upon the a mystifying ritual caused by a boy barely at the edges of his teens. The world seems to hold its breath.

The sight of it made Danny smile. Crooked. Tired. Alive. 

It felt like Jason was smiling back. 

“So,” he rasps, licking cracked lips. “I heard you wanted to know how I came back from the dead?”

Something at the edge of his vision lit up in static blue before it disappears without so much as a blink. The Pit sings behind him at the wake of it. And before him?

The Demon smiles with all his teeth.

Chapter 2: A Ghost Edge of a Knife

Summary:

Danny, currently trying to mentally rebrand as Jay, dearly wished Talia just made him run for the hills.

Notes:

I remembered the core of this fic is crack so lemme go wild cause my outline is fighting me right now. Say goodbye to canon y'all, I don't know who that is.

I say this but this still got more serious than intended…

Danny didn't realize how much of his actual senses were missing until the world refocused to the point he can feel everything.

To say it's overwhelming feels like an understatement. Being in that state in the presence of the Demon Head of a literal assassin cult? Even more so. So what did Danny do?

Delay whatever the hell this was to the morning.

The utterly baffled look Ra's Al Ghul had on his face when Danny shared this sentiments had no rights being funny. At least Talia looks amused herself. Or was that bemusement? Maybe it doesn't matter as he reaches out a hand to ask for her help to bring him up because Ra's won't do anything.

Being unconsciously attuned to the 3 cores in the league may have benefits he's reaping now. He had used them as tethers to sanity (which, fine, is a weird choice but there isn't many in the first place!) So he can probably read the two of those present are feeling way more than before. To an extent he isn't sure he likes, admittedly, considering the sheer implications of it.

"It seems there is merit to your investment after all, daughter, " Ra's drawls. His core feels stable than it has ever been. The once near volcanic quality becoming a steady stream.

"It seemed it had also inherited your audacity to dare demand accommodations," Ra's continues. Danny doesn't even need to turn to know he was sneering, busy as he was getting off the pools of the now purified ectoplasm.

The owner of the hand steadying him however, clearly do mind as her shoulders stiffens.

"His name is Jason, Father," She starts. There was a fire in her eyes as she boldly steps forward once he reached solid ground. Jason can almost delude himself to think she's shielding him. "The feat he has done today warrants recognition for a usage of a name."

…Yeah, about that. How does one acknowledge not having Jason’s memories—or not being him at all? Sounds crazy even to him, especially since Jason seems fused with his core now after the whole debacle. And so, the eternal question continues. Where does he end and Jason begin?

Should he just call himself Jay and be done with it?

Looking over Talia and her now reassuring smile as she glances back at him.. does put into consideration that admitting he isn't fully Jason in a snake den would not be a smart idea considering it can potentially alienate the only solid ally he has. Or respectable adult for that matter.

That doesn't mean the tension in the room isn't turning suffocating fast. Who knew a more mentally stable leader of an assassin cult could make them more terrifying?

"Oh?" Ra's said. His eyes sharpen as the fiery core Danny can now trace burning in the center of ridiculously toned chest (how old is this guy again?) stills. "And who, pray tell, daughter—loudly proclaimed he was raised from the dead? By his own power, no less?"

Okay, in hindsight, that probably was not a good power move. Even if it felt cool at the time...

Talia's shoulders tensed. Her eyes glowing green for a moment as she meets her father's eyes. It's almost uncharacteristic. This boldness. Ra's himself usually bares his teeth at times like this, but this time, he simply took steps forward. There was a tightness in his eyes that mirrors his daughter's as the pool of ectoplasm seemingly parted as he makes his way to their direction. The room collectively holds its breath.

Frankly, Danny — now considering re-branding to Jay— does not like where this is going.

So in a pro-gamer move... he let out a frequency from his core and let it echo to the other two present in the room. Desperately trying to calm both agitated fire down . He does not want to be in the middle of this particular fight thank you.

That seemed to work as with the system's weird protocol gone, the vibrations comes out much stronger than before. Although, embarrassingly enough, the sound he did let out sounds like a lullaby. He'll need a better handle on his own core all over again with how raw it felt after merging with Jason's smoke as it does sting. Regardless, it's a small price to pay as it catches the two (ancient??) adults' attention. He can even go far and say they looked like startled panthers in the wake of a ringing bell. The loud crackle of flames ceased, even if it's mostly Danny (Jay? Jay.) that's aware of the hissing fight.

"It's a rather eventful night," he starts. Sweat dripping at the side of his face under twin heated gaze. "So it's better to have a discussion in the morning yeah?"

A beat.

The breathes in the room exhaled.

There was a purr of flames at the wake of it all. One far more hesitant than the other. Not that it matters much to everyone else in the room, because one less fight between the father-daughter pair means less destruction and collateral all around.

"Very well," Ra's amends even as his lips thinning. "I expect both of you to have a sufficient explanation by morning. Or else."

His eyes didn't soften, nor did his stance change all that much, but this small mercy is enough for Talia as she nods. The bar is clearly in hell here.

"Of course father," Talia smiles in a rather thin line. Equally unkind, yet almost smug. Her core almost felt like it was purring in the wake of Ra's displeased wave. "That can be arranged promptly."

And that was that.

Da— Jay. Jay finds himself walking back to the surface with multiple eyes watching his every move. Two in particular scalding at the back of his head. He got a lot to answer for in the morning, and the worse part is he isn't even getting paid for any of it. Granted, he doesn't know what the coins he earned through the system is for but its the principle of the matter!

He is so not looking forward to that.

---

The first thing he sees upon opening his eyes was a kid who bore traces of Talia and a faint core that's not quite fire. He's standing right in front of him, bright florescent light highlighting chubby cheeks and the harsh scrunch of brows. It almost feels like the kid isn't happy to see him at the teen's own room.

"You're still here," the kid finally says. Damian, if he remembers correctly from the blue title screen he saw glimpses of when he catches the kid watching him from a corner every time he trains. Demon's Heir. A rather heavy title for a grumpy looking kid if Jay has anything to say about it.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he said, noting the kid's hand twitch. "This is my room."

"I saw mother pack luggage, claiming they're yours," Damian sniffs. It would have looked snobbish if Jay didn't find it adorable. "Shame that is. I alone should suffice as the heir, there is no need for a spare."

Jay snorts.

"I'm not a spare or a heir kid," he made a move to get up. Damian was gracious enough to jump down the floor instead of continuing to stand at his chest. "Besides, aren't you usually in a corner somewhere? Not feeling shy today, huh?"

A flicker of surprise crossed toxic green. "I was not aware you were lucid."

"Not that lucid, I just notice things sometimes," Jay stretched his arms and made a satisfied sigh as his back pops. He wonders if he should be wary of an assassin-cult heir in his room, but at this point, he’s too far gone to care. Then again, said kid is the biological son of his adopted dad right? Technically makes them brothers. Sure, let’s call it that— a little less complicated, weird, whatever.

Before he could think further into it, there was a loud huff beside him. His gaze found itself back to Damian whose now crossing his arms.

"It matters not. Grandfather demands your presence promptly. In consideration of your usual record to wake, Mother has assigned me to fetch you," Damian said, turning to the door. "You must not keep them waiting, Todd."

"Don't call me Todd," he says. Rising from the bed, he can't help but follow through with, "And I didn't know Talia wants me to officially meet you. Aren't you usually training by now?"

The faint core sways in rapt attention. A glare was already in the kid's face by the time he decided to face Jason again. "The more you say the more I doubt upon your insistence in your supposed lucidity these past months."

Jay shrugs. "Whatever you say kid."

"Do not address me as such—"

In a shining example of Jay's self-preservation instinct in the face of a child assassin, he simply laughs as he ruffles the kid's spiky hair. This earned him a knife going for the kill. Normal people might have lost a finger—or worse—but Jay isn’t normal, so he dodges with the easy grace of someone who’s danced with worse. Nevermind the broken baseline in measuring normality in the face of every absurdity life throws at him. He doesn't get compensation for it anymore either with the system out of commission.

Semantics aside, he does need to face the music soon. Baby assassins can't help him stall if said said baby assassin gets impatient too. Which Damian clearly is. Alas, Jay still got no idea how to handle the coming meeting with how low his lists has become for pro-gamer moves.

That doesn't mean he can't stall a little more, right? They need him alive for answers. Answers he doesn't have at the moment. He's so cooked.

"Let me wash up and I'll be right over," he starts. He made a show of gesturing over his face. "Wouldn't wanna go over there looking like I just got straight off the bed, you know?"

Damian eyes him critically, the knife that almost cut his hands off still firmly at chubby little hands. He seemed to have found what he's looking for however, as he dutifully sheathes his knife and let it disappear into whatever void he got it from. Jay's not asking for the secrets. He concurs he won't get it anyway.

"So be it," Damian almost huffed. "Make it quick."

Jay salute before going to the bathroom door. Idly, he wonders if he should try to look his best for his third funeral.

---

Jay would like to put it on record that he dearly wished Talia just grabbed the bag Damian said was for him shoved him toward the hills. Run first, questions never. Because sitting across from Ra’s al Ghul? Yeah, he is not ready for this. Holy shit.

(Never mind the quiet chant of Jay, Jay, Jay looping in his head. A new name for a new game. Tucker would probably roast him for not picking something cooler, but Tucker isn’t here. Nor does he have anyone to drag him out to a save point.)

“Speak, boy.” The Demon Head’s voice cut through the room, framed by light like he’d staged the moment himself. “You’ve made me wait long enough.”

Jay swallows. Fully aware saying the wrong thing here can very well put a knife at his throat far more lethal than the Demon's Heir. Nevermind him not knowing the details for him to end up in Jason's body to begin with.

"Instead of telling you about it," he starts, licking his lips. "Why not show it to you instead?"

"Oh?" there was a quirk of a brow. "Just like the thing you did the night before?"

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Talia twitch. Seated as she may be on his left, she looked smaller in comparison to her father's broader frame and tighter hold in the room. Suddenly, Jay finds himself thankful they let Damian out of it, even with the kid being unhappy about it to say the least.

The sound of fingers drumming hard against hard wood brought Jay back to attention. Once more, his now toxic green eyes met identical ones. A mark of a pit as they call it. He wonders for a moment what Ra's original eye color was and if it was ever destined to be green. Not that the line of thought is appropriate for the moment, as the Demon Head is visibly getting impatient.

“I call it a core,” Jay says, voice almost wavering. At least that part felt safe. “I died. Woke up with one. And… here I am.”

"That does not explain nearly enough," Ra's says rather impatiently. "Nor does that alone suffice considering you had made me wait for morning. Surely, the son of the Detective can supply more than that?"

With a bravado he doesn't fully feel as he fights the urge to wipe his sweaty palms against the criminally soft pants the League provided him, Jay marches on. "And I asked if I can show you instead because it's easier to explain that way. You're curious too, right? I would hope so because I helped the pit heal you too."

"Heal me too?" Ra’s voice is calm, but the weight behind it makes Jay’s pulse spike. "The Pit is no mere tool. It is the earth’s marrow, a reservoir of decay and rebirth. I have bent it, yes—shaped it to my cause—but never without cost. You say it ‘heals’? No. It balances, as nature always does. What grounds have you to claim you altered such a cycle?"

"There's a pulse residing deep inside its depths. I felt it." Jay holds out his hand and smoke finds itself reaching upward, its shadow reminiscent of a crown. The sight alone made the drumming in his chest slow and bring back the phantom feeling of restraints tightening around his wrists. He half anticipated a blue screen to break through the fog. But he's not down under, and the system isn't here. So he continues.

"You did too. You feel more grounded now after I coaxed it out, am I right? So instead of doubting me, ask instead if the Lazarus Pit looks better than it had ever been after decades of use. Hell! It might even resemble the state it was in the day you found it."

A chill passes the room. Unbidden, Jay feels his core reach to burning flames. Two sparked in interest. Only one reaches back as it had always been as the other licks for cinder to the pyre. His hands fall. The fog dissipates. And for a moment, a lump stuck itself to his throat, nearly making him choke.

Was that enough? he wonders.

Not enough, something seems to echo back.

Toxic green flickered in front of him. For once, eyes mirroring the core as a spark enters the Demon's eyes calling back to a forgotten humanity. Nostalgia lingers there. Then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone. Jay couldn’t tell if that made him safer or putting him right back into the execution block.

And yet, the flames eased an inch.

"I have not seen such audacity in a long time. Bolder even, for it to be found on a boy who still stumbles like a babe, to claim he knows better than I." Ra's tilts his head to look over his daughter. "Then again, you do seem to like them that way, daughter."

"I shall neither deny or confirm, Father," Talia said. Her voice melodic despite the passive role she'd played so far for the whole duration of this meeting. Her gaze momentarily shifts to Jason before drawing back as she closes her eyes, almost pleased in its confidence despite the unreadable gaze beside her. "It is however, commendable. Such audacity is rare. Dangerous, yes—but not without merit."

Jay forces himself to keep his composure, even as his core thrums restless in his chest. Commendable or not, he has no doubt one wrong word could still see his blood on the floor. The flames may be calm now, but it does not equal to leniency. Not directed to Jason, at least. So how would that spell out to Jay?

Jay straightens as Ra’s seems satisfied with Talia’s words, turning his attention back to him.

"Answer me this then, boy," Ra's core seems to purr. A strange thing, as his face does not reflect anything back. "This..core. What does that have anything to do with the Lazarus Pit for you to push for a connection despite no prior encounters to anything similar?" That sounded less like a question and more of a warning with how heavy the air suddenly feels. There's an accusation ready to be sharpened like a knife there. Yet not a lick of flame.

For a moment, a blue light flickers at the corner of his eyes. He forced himself to keep his focus in front of him.

Whether Ra's noticed the moment of inattention or not remains unseen as he continues, his eyes narrowed like a wolf upon prey. "No lies will be tolerated here, I know how the Detective operates around his charges."

That had almost sounded bitter. Vaguely similar even— to Smokey's reaction with the mere mention of Bruce. Its deep echo vibrating in a frequency he could've mistaken to come from between his own ribs. Jay isn't sure how to feel about such a revelation.

"Well I died and came back," Jay boldly asserts instead of acknowledging whatever that was. He barely managed to stop the twitch of his fingers at the phantom feel of splinters digging under his nails. "Pretty sure your Detective can't do anything about that, can he?"

He suppressed a wince at the sharp glance Talia gave him. Still, he presses on. "And in my resurrection, energies one would associate with death formed into a core. Much like the Lazarus Pit if the things that happened last night isn't proof enough for you. It felt different dipping in it this time, didn't it?"

Ra’s hums. “And you suggest, then, that my line has imitated what nature granted you freely. That the Pits, through their contamination, became a pale shadow of the cycle your ‘core’ embodies.”

Jay shakes his head. “Not unnatural. Just…trapped. Recycling the same thing over and over until it rots. You could even say its a ventilation system with no filter.” He shrugs, feigning casual. “And last night? I was the filter.”

If he weren’t sweating buckets, he’d pat himself on the back.

But Ra’s doesn’t so much as blink. His eyes gleam like a predator finding a new angle of approach.

“And how would you know this, boy? My daughter found you addled, half-broken, and wandering the city the Detective resides in, not knowing of your return no less." The Demon Head's eyes gains a shine. Leaning in, he continues with a vigor akin to a beast showing off teeth. "My daughter's mercy kept you alive. Now you speak as though you have studied the marrow of the earth itself and glimpsed upon a cosmic truth.”

Jay feels cold sweat spreading on his back as Ra's tapped his fingers on hardwood. A harsh line in his jaw as he appraises Jay like a particularly interesting smear on the wall he's not quite sure if he wants to wipe off. Or make an example of. Preferably neither.

"Unless you've been pretending to feed off my daughter's generosity?"

The question felt coated in ice. In contrast, Ra’s eyes burned too green, too bright—like the Lazarus itself had decided to look at him through human sockets. Jay swore he could smell ash, though the air was still. Bad news, his gut practically screamed, even before he saw Talia flinch

The Master of Lazarus Pit, Jay could almost imagine the system drone out. A self-imposed Champion chosen by wolves.

"Father—" Talia tries to speak. She was cut off as her father raised a hand. Identical flames flared, crackling with a heat Jay could feel against his skin. The mere act of it instinctively made his core recoil.

Shit. He didn’t want her caught in this. Didn’t want to force her between him and her father, to make sacrifices for someone who wasn’t even her son. The mere thought made his chest seize tight as his throat clenched to—

“I needed a conduit!” The words broke out before he could smother them, jagged and too fast, his voice cracking like a kid caught in a lie. His throat burned. He almost heard a phantom beep at his ear, like the system mocking him.

The word snapped through the room like glass underfoot. Silence followed. Jay had the split-second, stomach-dropping realization that maybe he should’ve gone with literally anything else.

But no blade came for his throat. Yet.

He feels his arms shaking until he forced them to chill out. His pulse hammered so loud he couldn’t hear himself. He shoved his bullshit meter to max—Sam would’ve been proud—while praying Ra’s next words wouldn’t be his obituary. “I couldn’t regulate it,” he said, voice scraping raw. “I needed the Pits.”

Ra's let his hands fall on the table as he leans back. Talia forcibly eased down with it. Her eyes flickers between them as she settles back.

"That doesn't answer the question of you knowing far too much, boy." The warning thickened, heavy and inescapable. An underlying poison he might as well offered in a cup. It made it hard to swallow.

"There's a place where death dwells and souls turn tangible while feeding of the energy similar to the pits," he tries to reason. A ringing on the side of his ears seemingly trying to take his attention as he continues to run his mouth, but he ignores it. Not important. Probably. Ancients, he really wish he could stay in bed.

"I learned it from there," his mind flashes to Clockwork and Frost Bite. His core burns for a moment in a deep sigh of want. He ignores that too.

"They call it the Infini-"

Jay chokes. The ringing on his ear grew louder as a phantom feeling of ropes suddenly tightened around his throat rudely made itself known. For a moment, he almost deluded himself into seeing flashes of red in his periphery. But it can't be, can it?

"Jason?" Talia's voice echos, and for a moment Jay felt like he's back under the Marionette Protocol again. It made chills travel through his spine.

"Jason!" Talia's voice sounds louder now. Looking up, he can vaguely see Talia now standing up from her chair alongside Ra's, the Demon Head's hands firmly on her shoulder. Focusing more into it, it's plain to see her gaze shifting to look all over his body. Whatever she's looking for though, Jay knows she won't find it. Ra's on the other hand is unreadable in comparison. His gaze is on Jason all the same.

His vision flickered blue for a moment—even as the light on the ceiling were decidedly white.

"I'm fine," he said after a moment. "Just..give me a moment."

Perhaps he should've known everything would not be easy. It rarely is.

"Sorry, I think I hit the limit of things I can explain." Futilely, he gave Talia a crooked smile. "Comes with the package."

Talia doesn't looks all that assured. "What was that?"

"There's always a price to pay." His hand pressed to his throat, uselessly massaging it even if it can't soothe the ache pulsing under his skin. A buzz almost purring against his ears. "This is simply mine."

There was a beat. It took greater effort than Jay would like to admit to keep his stance from wavering.

After a few moments of silence, Ra's hums. He let's go of Talia's shoulder with a light squeeze before letting it fall back to his side. A line of amusement now in the crinkle of his eyes. Talia eyes it, half wary. Yet her expression made it seem like she saw a glimpse of something in her father Jay couldn't see. A light at the end of a tunnel.. or perhaps a beginning to an end?

"The Detectives calls you his greatest failure?" Ra's almost laughs out, which ouch. If smokey wasn't already fused with his core he probably would have recoiled. Yet there's something with the slope of the Demon Head's shoulders and the tick of his lips that softens the blow. The sight of it made Talia stay exactly where she is. A wonder in her eyes. A different flavor of consideration. And something Jay desperately wants to believe is a sign that he won't be getting his head chopped off in the next few minutes.

Ra's raised his hands toward him, making Jay momentarily flinch, even as the Demon Head does not make a move to draw closer. Small mercies.

"You have the same burn in his eyes, boy. Or has the Detective come to dislike it on the face of someone with not as many rules?" There was an almost manic shine in those eyes Jay is unsure he likes.

"I wouldn't know." Jay pauses before just going for it. "I don't remember any of it."

"Don't remember?" Talia exclaims as she makes a move to step closer. Ra's eyed her for a moment but allowed it as she walks to Jason, her hands already finding itself gently grasping his arms. "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

Jay hesitates for moment before replying, "It's part of my price in coming back." He had a moment to think of leaving it all in just that but the crestfallen look Talia had taken made him push forward. "But he sounds so familiar when you talk about him. I just...can't reach the memories now."

"Touching," Ra's voice cuts in. "But I suppose this much is enough for now."

Both woman and boy looked back at the Demon Head that now sports a smile that says many things yet nothing at all.

"The boy can stay, there might be use of him yet." With a wave of his hands, two figures emerged. "You've proven that you still cannot speak, but you can very well show correct?"

Jay nods mutely. Ra's looks satisfied even with just that.

"Then a demonstration would very well be in order. Alongside that, as you've already been doing before your full lucidity, you shall continue your training under our cause." His smile morphed into a sharper edge. "Do you agree to this terms?"

Like he had any choice, Jay wants to grumble. Regardless, he nods again. "I do."

With that, Ra's Al Ghul leaves with a flare of his cape. Jay couldn't help but stare. Distantly, he notes he should feel relieved. He lives for another day.

He fights down the urge to wipe his eyes as Talia fusses over him. Muttering about getting a doctor under her breathe as she brings out her phone. A sensible reaction to hearing your charge has amnesia, and another thing Jay will have to deal with to survive the League as is.

Yet, there's still one pressing thing he wants answers to. One that kept the tension pressing against his chest it almost ached to even breathe.

Why are there blue glowing titles hovering above everyone's heads in this very room?

Notes:

Can I just say writing Ra's Al Ghul is hard? Because writing Ra's Al Ghul is hard but I'll be putting that kinda-decent grandfather Ra's Al Ghul tag to use by laying foundation or so HELP ME!

Also I know I stubbornly typed Jay but I swear I keep typing in Jason instead…he isn't there yet to fully claim the name. I'm still thinking over if I should make him reclaim it before or during Gotham Arc...

Notes:

*tucks hair behind my ears* I'm probably gonna take a while to get the next chapter out even with a story outline.

Wish me luck on staying safe from the curse as I go job hunting soon guys.