Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

After working for the Wayne family for longer than its patriarch had been alive, Alfred was more than just experienced with insanity. His employers get tragically killed and there is no one to take in their young son? Alfred will raise the boy as if he was his own son. His charge decides to dress up as a bat and strike fear into the city’s criminal underbelly? Alfred will make sure no one discovers that secret. Time after time, child after child, Alfred had kept Wayne Manor - as well as the family inside it - as close to intact as it could be.

Which was precisely how he knew that something was going to happen that day. From the moment the sun rose, Alfred could sense that today was not going to be like any ordinary day. Granted, ordinary was a subjective term, and one that held little value in a family of vigilantes, but Alfred digressed.

When the manor’s phone rang, he realized that that was exactly what was making the air taste like trouble that morning. Alfred paused from where he was stirring a boiling pot of pasta for that day’s dinner and went to pick it up.

“Wayne Manor,” Alfred greeted, like always.

“Hey, Alfred,” the voice on the other end said.

He felt himself freeze. He knew that voice. It had a New York accent that Alfred was nearly unfamiliar with after spending so long in New Jersey, and had a slight rasp to the deeper and more tired words, but he knew that voice.

“Master Percy,” Alfred said after a moment, swallowing his shock.

“In the flesh,” Percy replied. “Well, not really, since this is a phone call, but you get what I’m saying.”

“I’m surprised to hear you calling, Master Percy. I have not heard from you since last spring, if I recall correctly,” Alfred said.

“Yeah, well, I’m not really here to chat. This is more of a courtesy call. I’m going to be in Gotham for almost a year since I’ve got a work thing, and I don’t want Bruce to get all pissed that I’m in his city without his permission,” Percy explained.

Alfred held back a sigh, keeping himself professional. “I shall let Master Bruce know. I expect that while you are in town, you will be staying at the Manor?”

“After everything that happened before I left? Yeah, right,” Percy said, snorting inelegantly. “I’ve got an apartment set up - don’t worry, it’s not anywhere dangerous. And you know I could handle myself if it was."

“Of course, Master Percy. Is there anything else you would like for me to tell Master Bruce?” Alfred asked.

“Oh, I guess just tell him that I’m sorry for missing our…annual tradition. I got into some hot water and wasn’t able to visit Jason’s grave last year,” Percy said, sounding genuinely regretful.

Oh, that poor boy. Alfred could only imagine how much Percy had beaten himself up over missing it. The only thing young Percy adored more than his older brother was his late mother.

“There is no need to trouble yourself, young sir. In fact, Jason has been inquiring about your presence recently. I’m sure he would like to spend some time with you while you are staying,” Alfred said.

It was far from a lie. Jason’s time spent at the Manor was sporadic and frequently ended in an argument, but over the past few months he had been calming down and learning to manage the anger that the Lazarus Pits gave him. On more than one occasion, he asked where Percy was. Bruce would give his typically vague responses, which always sparked Jason’s anger once again and led to another dispute.

Percy went silent, the lack of noise palpable for the several seconds it lasted.

“That’s not funny, Alfred,” Percy whispered, before hanging up with a sharp click.

Alfred stared at the phone for a few seconds before the realization hit him. Then, he was filled with a thick and burning rage, so strong it nearly made him clench his fists right where he stood.

Bruce did not tell Percy that Jason was alive. Percy was still under the impression that Jason was dead.

It was unsuitable for a butler to yell at his master. To combat this, Alfred developed many ways to show his fury over the years. He headed back into the kitchen, finishing the pasta and the rest of the dinner preparations, before getting started on the dessert of the evening.

Instead of the custard profiteroles he had been planning on, Alfred used the cheesecake recipe that Bruce favoured to make a batch of miniature cheesecakes with a twist: a slightly tart blueberry sauce swirled throughout each cake, making each one a vibrant purple-blue. He pulled out the blue party napkins from the back of the cupboard, grabbing a stack of blue napkins and silverware just in time to hear the front door creak open.

Tray of desserts in hand, he walked towards the front entrance with a cordial expression.

“Master Tim, Master Damian, Master Duke, and Miss Cassandra,” Alfred said pleasantly, greeting each of the children in turn. “How was school today?”

“It was alright. We had gym class, though, so we spent a full hour and a half toning down our skills again,” Tim replied.

“How was your day, Alfred?” Duke asked.

“It was quite interesting. Would you care for a miniature blueberry cheesecake?” Alfred asked, raising the tray.

Duke and Damian took their desserts with polite thankfulness, not-quite hiding their suspicious glances at the fact that Alfred was serving dessert so early, while Cassandra shook her head softly.

“Interesting time to give us dessert,” Tim remarked, scrutinizing the cakes.

“Today is a special occasion,” Alfred said.

“Aren’t these Father’s favourites?” Damian asked, already halfway through his own cake.

“Bruce doesn’t have them with blueberries. And I didn’t know we owned blue napkins,” Tim said, quickly slipping the conversation into an interrogation.

“Today is a special occasion,” Alfred repeated simply, used to the boy’s tactics. “If you do not want the cakes, it is no offence on my part."

“I’ll take yours if you don’t want it,” Duke offered.

“No, no, I’ll eat it,” Tim said quickly, snatching a plate and taking a bite.

“Tch. Have some civility, you uncultured heathen,” Damian said, nose wrinkled.

“You’re one to talk about civility, Demon Spawn,” Tim retorted.

“How about each of you enjoy your cheesecake while you do your homework at the dining table? Master Bruce will be here shortly,” Alfred cut in smoothly before they could descend into an argument.

“I don’t have any homework,” Tim said, taking a bite of his cheesecake.

“I am certain that you have another project you could work on while you sit with your siblings, Master Tim,” Alfred said.

“Mad,” Cassandra commented, just as Tim opened his mouth to reply.

Tim turned to her, eyebrow raised. When Cassandra nodded, he faced Alfred again, a mischievous smile on his face. “You made his favourite dessert and are giving it to us before dinner, at the risk of spoiling our appetites. And you want us to eat it in the dining room, where he’ll definitely see us. B screwed up, didn’t he? He screwed up bad.”

“What did Father do?” Damian asked, a combination of suspicious, worried, and amused.

“Master Bruce did nothing of the sort,” Alfred lied rather obviously, and each child gave him a mildly incredulous look but did not say anything.

“Stephanie’s going to be pissed that she’s missing this,” Duke said.

“No one tell her, I want to use this to bribe her later,” Tim said.

“Pictures,” Cassandra said, gesturing to Tim’s pocket.

“Naturally. I wish I had time to go to my room and get my nicer camera, but Bruce will be here in a few minutes,” Tim lamented as they walked off, carrying their backpacks and desserts with them as they chatted. “Save that extra slice for once you hear the car pulling in, I want to see the look on B’s face when he sees you eating the last one.”

When Bruce finally did return from Wayne Enterprises, the children exchanged amused glances before pulling on perfectly composed masks and acting as though they had been doing their homework the whole time as they scribbled down notes and perused their laptops.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted. It was the same routine he had with the children, only more familiar after so long. He kept his body language congenial as he took Bruce’s coat, despite the way the thought of Percy still believing in his older brother’s death made the butler want to shout.

“Alfred,” Bruce replied, a small yet genuine smile on his face.

“I take it you had a good day at Wayne Enterprises, sir?” Alfred asked.

“The board actually cooperated with me, for once,” Bruce said.

“The children are in the dining room doing homework together, should you wish to visit them,” Alfred stated.

Bruce raised a brow at the seemingly random break in their ordinary routine, going to investigate. Alfred remained in the hall, lingering just close enough to be able to overhear their conversation.

“Father,” Damian said first, likely inclining his head the way he usually did.

Hey, B,” Tim said, using his most innocent voice. “You got here just too late - we almost finished up the mini cheesecakes.”

“Alfred let you have cheesecake before dinner?” Bruce asked, mind already creating and discarding dozens of theories before he finished his sentence, no doubt.

“He offered us, actually,” Tim corrected.

“Oh?” Bruce pressed.

“Yeah. Alfred had a tray ready right when we got back from school,” Duke elaborated.

“But enough about us, Bruce. How was your day? Anything worth noting happen recently?” Tim asked, hardly bothering to make his questioning subtle.

“Chew with your mouth closed, Drake. And wipe the crumbs off your face, you look revolting,” Damian said.

Alfred leaned towards the crack in the door just in time to see Damian toss a blue napkin in Tim’s face. He caught it before the napkin could hit him, but chose to ready his phone camera instead of making a counterattack. He held his phone up, recording as Bruce suddenly stormed towards the door and threw it open. Alfred didn’t flinch at Bruce’s abrupt anger, merely raising a questioning brow.

“I haven’t spoken to him since last spring. Why are you mad?” Bruce demanded.

“Master Percy called the Manor earlier today, stating that he would be in Gotham City for business and wished to let you know in advance. Upon me suggesting that he live in the Manor and spend some time with Master Jason, he disconnected the call,” Alfred explained. He let his composure marginally slip, some of his anger showing on his face.

Bruce’s eyes widened slightly before hardening. “He made it very clear that he did not want to be contacted outside of what he initiated.”

“And you did not think that Master Jason being alive is something he would want to know about?” Alfred asked, making Bruce wince slightly. They both knew that Percy would have thrown himself on the sword if it meant Jason would have lived.

“He went off the grid for most of that year. He buried himself deep enough to make the message clear,” Bruce snapped back.

Alfred gave Bruce a stern look, and he lowered his head slightly in apology for his tone.

“I expect both Master Jason and Master Percy to become aware of what has occurred and for them to see each other shortly,” Alfred said curtly. He looked at Bruce seriously, making sure that Bruce nodded, before turning on his heel and putting the remaining blueberry cheesecakes in containers to store in the refrigerator.

He also made a mental note to buy more blue food colouring. He would be using quite a lot of it in the future.

—

Manhattan
New York City, New York
2003

Percy had come home from his most recent boarding school due to his latest expulsion. He walked through the smelly apartment’s door, suitcase in hand and a regretful lump in his gut as he prepared to explain to his mom why it was that he decided smashing the vice principal’s window was a good response to being called a bastard to his face, when he saw the blood.

It was red all over the floor, seeping into the stained carpets and floorboards like a new set of crusty, sticky paint. Gabe’s body was the one he saw first. His face was blank, eyes glassy, with his can of beer sitting in his hand as the drink spilled on top of his corpse. There were a series of gashes, deep and thick, dragging across his stomach and through his neck.

Percy screamed. His suitcase fell out of his hand as he stumbled out of the living room and into the kitchen, looking for Mom.

Then he saw her body.

His heartbeat felt like it was rattling him from the inside out. Bile rose up in his throat, but Percy didn’t puke. His whole world began to spin as he fell to his knees and pressed his hand to Mom’s face. Her skin was cold to the touch. Her eyes were closed. There were tearlines down her face, and her mouth was still open in a silent scream.

“Mom?” Percy asked.

The realization crashed into Percy like a truck.

Percy couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. He couldn’t tell if he was screaming or not. Everything in the world went fuzzy, too loud and too quiet at once. No matter how many breaths Percy took, it was as though he was suffocating.

He leaned down, pressing his ear to her chest, hoping to find the faint flutter of a heartbeat. If there was one, he couldn't hear it over the pounding in his ears.

Percy sat there, kneeling in the blood (Mom’s blood, it was Mom’s blood, oh my god) for seconds or minutes or hours, shaking with cold and numbness.

“Hello, little half-blood,” a voice, melodic and haunting, said, breaking Percy from his stupor.

He looked up, seeing a woman standing over him. She was dressed in jeans and a Coca-Cola t-shirt, her hair in a braid that fell down her back. She looked normal. She looked safe.

“Help,” Percy whispered. His throat made speaking hurt.

“I’m sorry. My name is Erin. I can help you,” the woman said, kneeling down to look Percy in the eyes.

“Call an ambulance,” was all Percy could reply. His voice was shaky and sounded distant to his own ears.

Erin shook her head remorsefully, and Percy got the distinct feeling that he had to run. “I’m afraid it won’t do any good. Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”

She outstretched her hand, palm up and inviting.

But Percy saw it right before he could think about taking her hand and going with her.

There was blood under her nails. Her skin was slightly pink and raw, as if she scrubbed her hands recently. Her fingernails were just a tad too sharp to be normal.

Percy’s heart would have raced even faster if it could. He looked up at her face, warm and sympathetically smiling, and noticed how even Erin’s teeth seemed too pointed for how normal the rest of her looked. There was a tinge of red in her smile.

The world began to shake all over again. But then, after only a moment, it steadied and sharpened into something understandable.

He could not go with Erin.

“Can I pack my things first?” Percy heard himself asking.

“Of course,” Erin purred gently, looking satisfied.

Percy picked up his suitcase from school first, ignoring the way Gabe’s corpse looked at him lifelessly, and felt the hair on the back of his neck stick up as Erin watched his every move. When he went to fill a backpack with his things, Erin followed him the whole time, watching with a smile that leaned on the wrong side of wide.

Lastly, Percy went into Mom and Gabe’s room. The place smelled extra strongly of Gabe’s general stink, but there was a hint of Mom’s perfume on some of her belongings. Tears stung at Percy’s eyes, but his skin still prickled from where Erin was watching him, so he quickly grabbed her favorite bracelets and then began to search inside the closet.

One of Mom’s boots had a bunch of thick rolls of cash inside, hidden away from Gabe, and another held a bronze knife with the blade the size of Percy’s hand. There was a Swiss army knife in the pocket of her green jacket too. Percy grabbed all three things and shoved them in his pockets before Erin could see.

A few years earlier, during summer break, Gabe went on a guys trip so Percy and Mom had the apartment to themselves for a whole week. Instead of spending it at Montauk, however, they were finally able to relax in the place they called home. During that week, Mom had sat Percy down and explained what Percy was supposed to do if anything ever happened to her.

Mom’s plan had been very simple, and easy for Percy to memorize.

Percy wasn’t supposed to stay with Gabe, even if CPS put Percy with him. If they didn’t, then he would end up in the foster system, which was worse, according to Mom. Anyone could go after him if Gabe wasn’t there, but Gabe would be way worse to Percy than he already was if Mom wasn’t there to hold him accountable.

That meant that Percy had to go on the run. He was supposed to get the money and both knives, and go to the train station. He had to take the soonest train to Long Island, then go to Delphi Strawberry Services. At this place would be a man named Charles Brunner, and Percy would go stay with him.

When Percy had asked why he would go live with a strawberry farmer if he ever became an orphan, Mom just said that Charles Brunner was a friend of hers. That they didn’t talk much, but he would take care of Percy if he had to.

Now, Percy was wishing he had pushed for more answers

“Are you ready to go?” Erin asked.

Percy suppressed a shudder. “Yeah. Where are we going?”

“Nearby,” Erin said.

She gestured for Percy to follow her, practically skipping over Gabe’s body to get to the front door. Percy walked alongside her, always watching her out of the corner of his eye. They left the apartment, and no one had looked twice at the way Percy’s pants and hands and face were covered in blood. No one saw the way that Percy was stiff as a board next to Erin.

Adrenaline sparked in Percy’s veins, making him feel like he could run a marathon. His ADHD was at full blast, drawing attention to a million things at once, but for the first time it only made him deeply aware of his surroundings instead of overwhelmed.

Percy shoved his hand in his pocket, wrapping it around the hilt of the bronze knife. The motion felt comforting, even though the thought of using it on someone made him nauseous. When Erin and Percy approached a thick crowd on the sidewalk, he decided that there was no time like the present.

Without hesitation, Percy threw his suitcase at Erin’s knees, not bothering to see where it went before booking it across the street. The sound of cars honking and brakes screeching grew around him, and he dodged dozens of cars that were about to run over him, but he kept on moving.

He could hear Erin shouting and chasing after him from behind but didn’t dare look back. He ran until he was inside the train station, pushing past the crowds of people to hide himself.

“I need a ticket,” Percy panted.

“How old are you, kid?” the worker asked, looking down at Percy with a frown.

“Thirteen,” Percy lied. He was nine years old, but thirteen meant you were a teenager, and that was plenty old enough to take a train without a guardian, he was sure.

The worker looked unimpressed. “Try again, shortstack.”

“Get back here!” he heard Erin shout from across the train station. She was only a short distance away, and Percy’s heart lurched with fear.

“I need to go, now!” Percy said urgently. He threw two of the rolls of money on the counter and hoped it would be enough for him to get on a train; he had no idea how much money was in those things.

“I - okay, just point to where you want to go on the board,” the worker said. They gestured to the list of train lines, stations, and cities on the display above them.

Percy stared at the board for a few seconds, panicking. He was dyslexic. He couldn’t read any of it. The words swam in front of his eyes like they were in just as much of a hurry to escape as he was.

“That one,” Percy said, pointing at what he was certain was Long Island. He was confident that he had the vowels right, at least.

“Uh, you sure, kid - ”

“Just give me my ticket!” Percy demanded.

He got his ticket.

Percy could see the numbers, and was able to find the train he needed to get to Long Island. Luckily, the train was close by and leaving in a few minutes, so he jumped on it just before the doors shut.

Through the glass windows in the door, he could see Erin as she grew smaller and smaller as the train sped away. Her fingers had elongated into claws, and her face twisted into a snarl around her fangs.

Percy started shaking again, his body temperature dropping and eyelids going heavy as his adrenaline plummeted.

“Are you alright there, son?” a gruff-looking, old man asked from his seat. He smelled like saltwater, and had thick, grey eyebrows that almost completely covered his eyes.

Percy realized he must have looked terrible. Mom’s blood was all over him, and he was sweaty from running so much. His face felt wet from tears, and he was heaving with each breath.

“I’m okay,” Percy said weakly.

It was true and it wasn’t. He was alive. Erin couldn’t get him. He was safe, technically. But mom was dead.

That thought kept on spinning in Percy’s head, over and over like it would become any less true if he kept on thinking about it. Instead, all that happened was that the thought hurt more and more, like punching a fresh bruise. It felt like he was the one with massive cuts splitting his organs apart instead of her.

Mom was dead. Mom was dead. Mom was dead.

“You look like you could use some rest,” the old man suggested.

Percy shook his head. “Why should I trust you?”

“I won’t touch you or your things. I promise,” the man said.

“Nice try, asshole. Kid like me all alone? You’ll send me to some child labour factory, I bet,” Percy scoffed, rolling his eyes. It wasn’t very intimidating since he was nine years old, 4 '2 (he was still growing, okay?), and his voice was pretty damn close to sounding like Alvin the Chipmunk’s.

“What are you doing on this train without your mother, then?” the old man asked.

“My mom just died,” Percy blurted. Then, it crashed over him like the current in a storm. Suddenly saying the words out loud made them so much more real.

Mom died. Mom died. Mom died.

“I’m sorry,” the old man said. He looked like he was truly mourning.

“That’s why I have to get to Long Island, to escape the foster system,” Percy said. Every other breath was overtaken with a sob. He wiped the tears from his eyes.

The old man’s eyes widened, and he gasped softly. “You’re on the train to Gotham City.”

“What?” Percy asked.

“Gotham City,” the man repeated. “You got on the wrong train.”

“No,” Percy denied, because there was no way that was true. Gotham City was in the opposite direction from where he was supposed to go, south in New Jersey. He fished his ticket out of his pocket and parsed through the moving letters to find out that, yes, he was on the wrong train.

“You just need to buy another ticket. You have some money, don’t you?” the old man asked.

Percy pulled out the remainder of his money and counted it. He only had fourteen dollars. It wouldn’t be enough for a ticket back to New York, and even if it was, he still wouldn’t be able to find Charles Brunner on Long Island with it.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Percy said. “I took our entire stash of emergency money.”

Then Percy remembered throwing two of the rolls of cash at the ticket seller in his rush to get away from Erin, and felt his stomach drop. He had wasted so much money on a ticket in the wrong direction, and now he was about to be stranded in one of the most dangerous cities in America.

“I’m sorry, son. You’ll have to stay in Gotham until you can afford another ticket,” the old man said. He looked at Percy with deep sorrow in his eyes, like he was already looking at his ghost.

A scared whine left Percy’s throat.

Gotham was best known for being every criminal’s go-to spot. The city also had a guy in a bat costume that tried to stop the whole crime thing. Percy wouldn’t be able to make it there. He’d get kidnapped after two seconds.

“It’s okay. Gotham can be scary, but I’ve been before. I know some ways you can last there,” the man said.

“Please,” Percy begged. He wasn’t even sure what he was pleading for. The information on how to survive a famously dangerous city? Money for another ticket?

“They don’t check the docks that often. If you stick near the harbour, you won’t get trafficked, and no one should find you. The water’s your friend,” the man explained, looking at Percy very seriously, like there was something else he was supposed to get out of the words.

“Okay,” Percy said, nodding.

“The cops in Gotham are almost always dirty. Don’t trust any of them. You’ve got a weapon on you, don’t you? Keep it on you all the time. Don’t be afraid to use it. Street kids are always in danger in Gotham, but there are a handful of people charitable enough to give you some things in exchange for some odd jobs. Just make sure they aren’t trying to trick you first,” he added.

“Thank you,” Percy said. “I don’t have anything to give you in exchange.”

“No need for that. I just wish I could do more for you. I wish I could keep you safe,” the old man said regretfully. He looked out the window just a second before thunder boomed loud enough to make Percy startle again, even though it wasn’t stormy outside. “Rest. I’ll look after you and wake you once the train gets there, okay?

This time, Percy nodded. He sat down on one of the seats and was out cold in half an hour. The man was nice enough to let Percy lean on his shoulder while he slept, even running his hand through Percy’s hair. From up close, Percy could see how his eyes shifted and swirled between blue and green in the different lighting, kind of like how his own did.

His dreams were a mess of Mom and Gabe’s corpses, Erin’s bloody fingernails, and, for some reason, a man crouched in a row of gargoyles. Percy startled awake, jumping away from the old man and reaching for the knife in his pocket.

“Easy, son,” the old man said, hands raised and pacifying. “You’re safe. You only slept for about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Percy said.

“Come here. You can sleep if you want to, or you can just sit beside me,” the man said, patting the spot Percy just leapt out of.

“Okay,” Percy mumbled tiredly, sitting beside him again.

A little while later, the train pulled to a stop in Gotham City. Percy tried to stand up, he really did, but his muscles were like bricks. If he stepped off of that train, he would be leaving his home for who knows how long, scraping together enough to survive until he could manage to get enough money for another ticket.

“You’ll be alright,” the old man said. “You are so incredibly strong, child. One day you will make those who cross you whimper at your feet. This may be terrifying, but you have the ability to persevere.”

He helped Percy onto his feet and squeezed him in a tight hug. Percy felt himself go limp, wrapped in warmth and the scent of seawater as he hugged the man back.

“Thank you,” Percy whispered.

The man pulled away, looking Percy in the eyes. Percy was surprised to see that he was crying. “Be safe, son. Remember to head to the docks. You will always have a home when water is near you.”

He then put his hands on Percy’s shoulders and walked him towards the train doors.

The first thing Percy did when he left the train station in Gotham was follow the old man’s instructions and go towards the docks. He wasn’t sure how to get there, but there was this feeling in his gut telling him where to step, pulling him towards the harbour. By the time he got there, it was late at night, and he had run away from three separate muggers on his walk.

It was dark and cold at night, the bite of the wind keeping Percy awake as he broke into a window of one of the warehouses near the harbour. He settled himself in the rafters, pulling out some of his clothes and turning his backpack into a pillow, creating a makeshift bed.

Percy lay awake for hours, not wanting to have nightmares once he closed his eyes. He could already feel her blood dried to his clothes, and didn’t want to remember the sight. He was too hungry to sleep anyway, not having eaten since breakfast. Mom and him were supposed to have dinner when he came home from boarding school today.

Mom.

Percy cried until he fell asleep that night. And the night after that. And the night after that one too. Crying eventually became normal for him, but only when he was in the warehouse after dark. It was the closest place to safety he could be.

After a week or so, Percy had begun to get used to living in Gotham. He learned how to hide from any adults, and how to steal food from the grocery stores. He learned how to clean himself and his clothes off in the harbour when no one was looking, which was especially easy when the water dried off him really fast now.

He learned about which spots to avoid, and how while Crime Alley was generally more dangerous than the rest of Gotham, there were certain spots where Percy could pick up scraps of food that some of the kind people living in the apartments left on their balconies. He was more physically fit and agile then most of the alley kids, as they were called, which meant that he was able to beat them to the more prized goods.

He learned how most of the alley kids were hostile to outsiders, but some were willing to share what they stole with Percy when he offered something in return. Every few days, Percy would end up playing distraction while the older kids shoved food and medicine into plastic bags in exchange for his fair cut of the goods.

During the daytime, Percy learned to steer clear of the warehouse he slept in, since there were a bunch of armed men going in and out all the time who wouldn’t hesitate to turn him into a splat on the pavement. One time, he peeked inside of the large shipping containers and saw stacks on stacks of small bundles of something wrapped in plastic. Percy was pretty sure they were all drugs of some sort.

Living in Gotham wasn’t nice. It wasn’t fun. But Percy was alive, even though now he only had ten dollars to his name after spending some money on a box of plastic water bottles so he didn’t have to resort to drinking harbour water.

Little by little, Percy began to get his bearings and become familiar with the city.

Then the vigilante guy in the bat costume and his neon sidekick broke into the warehouse Percy was staying in.

Chapter Text

Crime Alley
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

Batman was on Jason’s territory, and Jason couldn’t think of why that was.

Jason had been part of the Bats’ network for a few months now, trying to fit himself back into the family he died out of like a puzzle piece from the wrong set. He knew that none of Batman’s cases involved being in Crime Alley. And Jason had made it plenty clear that Batman was far from welcome on his streets.

It had been Jason’s off day too. He was in his favourite safehouse, the one he used as an actual apartment, making himself dinner and thinking over one of his cases, when he glanced out his window and saw a familiar shadow across the street.

Jason’s jaw tensed, fists clenching. He debated turning off the stove and going to chase him off of his turf. But that would have been too easy. Batman wouldn’t have lurked around Jason’s apartment unless he knew how Jason would react.

He felt the green behind his eyes simmering, whispering for him to run outside and let bullets fall like raindrops, but he reigned the Pit in. He finished adding the broccoli to the pan, stirring it a few times before lowering the stove’s temperature. Then, he slapped a domino mask over his eyes and threw his coat on, grabbing a pack of smokes and heading up to the building’s roof.

See, Bruce? I can play nice.

The Dark Knight was already waiting for Jason when he got here, but Jason didn’t address him. Instead, he lit his cigarette and took a lazy inhale. He carefully, deliberately, took his gaze off of Batman, turning to admire the way Crime Alley looked.

There was broken glass and needles littering the floor, and every building was marked with graffiti underneath layers of grime to show who owned what and where. There was shouting and pain and cries but it was also a familiarity that had been a part of Jason from the moment he first opened his eyes - both the first and second times.

Crime Alley wasn’t pretty, but it was beautiful.

“You left the stove on,” Batman growled out at last.

Jason barked out a bitter laugh. Of course the first thing out of his mouth was criticism. He didn’t even have the decency to say hello.

“Then I guess you better make this quick,” Jason replied.

“You’re coming back to the cave tomorrow after patrol,” Batman stated.

Typical Bruce, making everything an order and forcing the world to bend to his will. He never even considered if Jason had his own plans for that day. Jason felt the Lazarus Pits begin to hiss inside his head, but he ignored it.

“Oh, yeah? And why should I go?” Jason demanded, turning back to face the man who he once looked up to. They were the same height now, which gave Jason a vicious sense of vindication.

“Agent A needs to see you,” Batman said.

That gave Jason pause.

“What happened?”

“There’s been a new development that he wants to make you aware of,” Batman said.

How helpful. Jesus Christ, Jason was already sick of this conversation. He felt tempted to flip Batman off and go back to his stir fry, but it was Alfred that asked for him.

“I’ll see if I can make it,” Jason said after a moment. He took another drag of his cigarette.

Batman disappeared into the night without another word, and Jason went back inside to finish making his dinner.

All this on his fucking off day too.

The next morning, after patrol, Jason was extraordinarily disappointed to find that he had no immediate activities preventing him from going to see Alfred.

Don’t get him wrong, Alfred was amazing, but seeing him meant going into the Batcave, which meant having to deal with the rest of Bruce’s menagerie of violent birds and bats. It also meant having to put up with Bruce, which was enough to make Jason ponder the merits of killing the first child abuser he came across just so that Bruce wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. But that would eventually turn into another lecture from Bruce, which wasn’t worth it.

So at five in the morning, once his patrol was over, Jason pulled his bike into the Batcave with all the joy of a man walking towards his execution.

“Oh hey, Jason,” Tim said, eyes flicking towards him calculatingly as he typed at the Batcomputer.

“Sup, Replacement,” Jason replied casually. He knew that look in Tim’s eye. Something was up, and Jason was confident it had something to do with whatever it was that Alfred wanted to talk about.

Jason and Cass smiled at each other in silent greeting, before Jason turned back to Tim.

“Where are the other fuckers?” he asked.

“Upstairs. Cass and I are just hanging back a bit late,” Tim said.

“Why do I have to be here, then?” Jason asked, frowning. He had assumed that the reason why he was being called in was because there was something that they all needed to know.

Tim shrugged. “Who knows?”

Tim did. Tim knew exactly why Jason had to waste his time being in Bruce’s vicinity, and he was just hiding it for shits and giggles.

“Ah, Master Jason, you’ve arrived,” Alfred said, stepping out of the elevator and entering the cave.

“Hey, Alfie. What’s up?” Jason said, smiling for the first time all day.

“Nothing too worrying, I assure you. Master Tim, I believe you should be retiring for the night to ensure you receive some rest for tomorrow,” Alfred said.

“Tomorrow’s a Saturday, I can sleep in. Just let me finish this up and I’ll head to bed,” Tim said.

“If you decide to remain awake much longer, then I’m afraid you will not be allowed out for patrol tomorrow night,” Alfred said.

Tim gaped at Alfred, before huffing and powering down the Batcomputer, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he went to the Manor.

“Now, Master Jason, I apologize for having you here with such little notice, but I felt this was a conversation best held in person,” Alfred started, words worryingly ominous. “I also wanted to have Master Dick here for this, but I am afraid that he is absent at the moment,” Alfred continued, giving Bruce a solid glare just as he got off the elevator.

“He refused to leave Bludhaven on short notice,” Bruce said, borderline whining in the way that only Alfred could make him do.

“I am certain that Master Dick would have decided to make the short road trip from one city over if he had the slightest idea of what it was we would be discussing,” Alfred said.

Why the hell would Dick and Jason but no one else be needed for this? Jason ran through all the events that happened in the last few days, and none of them lined up with Alfred’s response. Jason hadn’t even spoken to Dick since three weeks ago, despite Dick’s many calls and strings of text messages.

“What’s going on?” Jason asked.

Alfred turned to Jason, with something gentle in his eyes. “Master Percy will be back in Gotham for a year.”

Jason’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help the way he gasped softly with a thick cocktail of emotions. Percy was coming back.

There was joy fluttering somewhere beside his heart, excitement growing at the thought of finally being able to see his brother for the first time since he died. Then, almost immediately, it was crushed by a wave of dread. Jason had been dunked into the Lazarus Pits and was brought back not-quite-human. He became a killer, and he didn’t even regret it.

The Jason that Percy knew was the sweet little kid that took care of him when his mom died. The Jason that Percy knew was the one who would read The Outsiders to him in the Manor’s library. The Jason that Percy knew wasn’t the Red Hood.

“Master Percy won’t begrudge you for your newer habits, Master Jason,” Alfred said knowingly. Jason was still confident in his childhood theory that Alfred was secretly an omnipotent eldritch being that decided to become a British butler one day.

“No. That’s just saved for everyone else here,” Jason retorted, just barely stopping his eyes from flicking to Bruce.

“I know you’ve had your struggles with some of the family, but I can guarantee that Master Percy will do no such thing. He has changed too, over these past few years,” Alfred said.

Oh, Jason knew that Percy changed. When he first came back to Gotham, eyes Lazarus green and finger resting on the trigger, he had done his research.

Percy and his vigilante alter ego stopped being spotted a few months after Jason’s death. The next time he surfaced, it was because he was on the news for blowing up a bus and attacking three old women. Then, he reached national fame, because it turned out that billionaire playboy Brucie Wayne’s twelve-year-old son was subject to a national manhunt and charged with domestic terrorism for blowing up the St. Louis Arch.

When Jason first saw the headlines, a few years after the event occurred, he burst out laughing. Only Percy could manage something that catastrophic and somehow be innocent.

The rest of Percy’s known appearances followed much of the same pattern. He would appear somewhere across the United States for a few minutes at most before leaving, often with a trail of explosions and destruction behind him. Most recently, he had been sighted in Alaska and California, before going off to the Mediterranean. Jason already had tons of theories as to what the hell happened with his little brother while he was gone, and each was more elaborate and bizarre than the last.

The fact that the minor destruction of multiple ancient Greek and Roman monuments happened during the same timespan as when Percy was confirmed to be in the area didn’t escape Jason’s notice either, even though they were some of the strangest parts of Percy’s updated file.

Maybe it wasn’t that Jason was too violent now. Maybe they were both too aggressive, and two people like that in the same room almost always ended with a hospital trip.

“Is that why you wanted Dick to be here?” Jason asked.

“I believe that you both deserve to learn about this in person. If Master Dick would prefer to wait, then that is his own fault,” Alfred said, subtly irritated that Dick didn’t show.

“You really won’t call him, huh?” Jason asked rhetorically, sparing a moment to pity Dick. Welp. Moment’s over. Jason was back to being annoyed.

“I imagine you would be rather miffed if you had been informed of such a development through a phone call,” Alfred said simply.

And, well, Jason couldn’t exactly disagree. In fact, he would have just ignored the call in the first place. On second thought, he almost wanted to call Dick just to drop this bombshell on him.

“What day is Percy coming?” Jason asked.

“He failed to specify,” Alfred said.

“This Sunday,” Bruce said immediately after.

“He bought a plane ticket or something?” Jason asked, an eyebrow raised skeptically. Percy was clever enough to be more subtle than that. If he didn’t tell Alfred, then he didn’t want it to be known, and he had the skills to cover up his tracks.

“An apartment in the Narrows was leased under the name ‘Pierre Johannsen’ and is due to be moved in on that day. All paperwork associated with this alias was proven to be faked, though convincing to the untrained eye,” Bruce explained.

Jason snorted. “Pierre Johannsen? Really? Maybe he wanted you to find him.”

“After he arrives, we will monitor him from a distance. No engagement,” Bruce stated, unamused.

“Who’s to say that I won’t go talk to him right away?” Jason snapped.

“Will you?” Bruce asked, already knowing the answer.

Jason didn’t have to say no. Bruce was plenty aware of how much he used to take pride in being a good big brother back then. Bruce knew that Jason was too fucked up now, and that Jason going to see Percy would just ruin everything.

Jason just scoffed and walked away, revving up his bike and driving out.

The whole ride home, Jason couldn’t stop thinking of how Percy looked when he saw him last. Percy was twelve, hesitantly nodding when Jason made him promise not to tell Bruce that he was going to Ethiopia to save his mother. Percy looked nervously at him with those sea green eyes of his, and Jason had hugged him before he left.

Percy’s eyes were blue and green in a way that was cool. They swirled like the ocean currents in different lighting, and almost looked the same shade of the Gotham Harbour when it was nighttime. Jason’s eyes were blue and green because he was poisoned back to life.

—

Gotham Harbour
Gotham City, New Jersey
2003

The night had started out not too far from Percy’s new normal. Steal dinner. Use half a plastic water bottle to shower with. Change into the sweatpants and hoodie Percy was using as pajamas. Curl up on the rafters of the warehouse and cry, quiet enough that the nightwatch wouldn’t hear him. The familiarity was starting to solidify itself.

Percy was drifting halfway to sleep, sinuses hurting from his cries, when he heard it. The noise was faint enough that if Percy wasn’t as close to the roof as he was, then he wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

Thwip. Clink. Zhrrr.

Percy tensed. He grabbed the bronze and the Swiss army knives, all tiredness gone. His heart started to pound. It must have been Erin, coming after him with vengeance. Or someone just like her, someone who looked like a person but was anything other than that.

Percy sat up, removing the jacket-blanket and setting it aside. His eyes raced back and forth across the entire warehouse, searching and ready.

The moonlight pouring in from the few windows suddenly darkened. One of the windows across from Percy was covered by a large, man-shaped shadow. Percy bit his lip to hold back a scared whimper.

The shadow pulled out some sort of device that silently cut a hole through the window, slipping inside. He poked his head back out, making some sort of signal with his hand, before the sound rang out again.

Thwip. Clink. Zhrrr.

Another figure popped up beside him, only this one was dressed like a traffic light and was way tinier. If the shadow was a grown man, then the traffic light looked a little older than Percy.

The two people - were they people? Were they robbers? Or were they like Erin? - crouched on the rafters opposite of Percy for a moment, before their completely white eyes settled on him.

Percy felt his heart stop in his chest. He’d been spotted.

The shadow and traffic light started to crawl across the rafters towards Percy, somehow not making a sound. Percy moved to run away, before realizing that he couldn’t afford to lose what little he had, and began quickly shoving his things in his backpack as they got closer and closer.

“It’s okay. We won’t hurt you,” the large shadow whispered. In the quiet of the warehouse, his gravelly voice seemed to almost echo.

Percy just held the bronze knife up. It wouldn’t do anything against the armour the shadow wore, he could see, but it was better than nothing.

“What’s your name?” the traffic light asked.

“I’m Jackson.”

It wasn’t a lie, really. They just thought that it was his first name.

“Hi, Jackson. I’m Robin, and this is Batman,” said the traffic light. “We aren’t here to do anything bad, I promise. We protect people from getting hurt.”

Percy’s eyes widened. “You’re those furries that run around and punch criminals.”

Robin barked out a laugh, startled. Batman gave him a look, but didn’t say anything.

“Do we count as furries if there’s no fur on our suits?” Robin asked.

“You’re a furry, then, because bats have fur,” Percy said, pointing to Batman. He then pointed to Robin. “Robins are birds, and birds have feathers. That makes you a feathery.”

“Are featheries a thing?” Robin asked, tilting his head to the side a little.

“You’re one, so they have to be,” Percy said, using the ironclad logic of a nine-year-old.

“Huh. I should make a club with Nightwing. I wonder if he’d be down for that,” Robin said.

“You should get out of the warehouse before the Penguin shows up,” Batman said, putting an efficient stop to Robin and Percy’s conversation.

“Oh, you mean Pointy Nose Dude?” Percy asked. He had given that man the (extremely creative) nickname when he first saw him a day or two prior.

“Have you met him?” Robin asked, suddenly sounding worried. Percy thought he looked worried too, but it was hard to tell with the mask over his eyes.

“What? No way. There are always a bunch of guys with guns with him. Besides, he would just send me to the cops,” Percy said, nose wrinkling at the thought of even nearing him. Then, his eyes widened as his fear poured back into his veins. “You guys aren't going to send me to the cops, are you?”

“Of course not. We’re vigilantes. Our whole thing is that cops are stupid and corrupt. Except for Commissioner Gordon, he’s cool,” Robin said.

“After we apprehend the Penguin tonight, I’ll take you to the Martha Wayne Foundation Centre. They have a program designed to help children in need, such as yourself,” Batman said.

Percy frantically shook his head, remembering the old man from the train’s words about Gotham. “What if they’re dirty too? I’d just be handing myself over.”

Batman opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the sound of a car engine was heard through the metal walls of the warehouse. Lights could be seen underneath the doors.

Percy sucked in a nervous breath, pulling a jacket out of his bag and throwing it over his head. He pressed his body as low down as it could go against the beam he was living on, hoping it would be enough to hide him. No one usually came to the warehouse at night.

Batman and Robin seemed to melt into the shadows, disappearing from sight almost completely. Percy figured the only reason why he could see them at all was because he already knew they were there. Batman placed himself closer to Percy, an arm raised protectively, which Percy couldn’t decide whether it was a compliment or an insult.

The doors opened, and Pointy Nose Dude - or Penguin, as Batman called him - entered the warehouse. He was dressed in a black and white suit, using an umbrella like some sort of walking stick. A bunch of men also dressed in black and white trailed behind him.

“Move the shipment out. I want this whole place cleared by sunrise,” Penguin ordered. A bunch of burly-looking guys started to move around, getting trucks ready while the Penguin watched.

“Stay here,” Batman ordered, before he and Robin silently leapt down and landed on the shipping containers closest to them.

Percy watched, intrigued and awestruck, as Batman and Robin started chucking these boomerang-thingies around, hitting the henchmen in the wrists and ankles. They jumped and punched and dodged, taking down the men with speed and practice. Percy couldn’t help but look at them with stars twinkling in his eyes. It was the closest he felt to excitement or happiness since Mom died - it wasn’t quite gone, but the crushing grief that had plagued his every step in Gotham was dulled for just that moment.

The Penguin, looking extremely annoyed, thumped his umbrella on the ground as a signal to one of his men. The man pulled out a gun way bigger than the simpler hand guns Percy had seen around Gotham before. It made a clicking noise, then bullets started to spray everywhere as Batman and Robin took cover behind shipping containers.

A machine gun, Percy realized, eyes growing round as plates.

After shooting for a brief moment, the Penguin let out a frustrated sigh and signalled to the man with the gun again, and he stopped firing.

“Flush the Bat and his Bird out. I want them to look like they were put through a hole puncher,” Penguin ordered.

The machine gun guy and the rest of the henchmen started to stalk in the aisles between containers searchingly, each of them with a weapon at the ready. From up above, Percy could see how Batman and Robin sunk into the shadows again, hiding and ambushing each of the goons they came across as they worked their way towards Penguin.

Robin got to one of the guys with machine guns, moving quick enough to land a strong punch on his jaw that sent him staggering back. The criminal lifted his gun to fire at Robin, but Robin grabbed the gun from underneath and shoved it upwards before the bullets could touch him.

One of the bullets ricocheted off of the metal walls and hit the beam Percy was on. The wood splintered and cracked, and then he was falling through the air. Percy screamed, feeling his stomach swoop as he screwed his eyes shut, bracing for the crash.

Suddenly, Percy stopped falling. There was a pair of arms holding him, catching him, and when Percy opened his eyes, he saw Batman looking him over for injuries.

Percy remembered Robin’s words from just before Penguin got there. We protect people from getting hurt.

Then, Percy saw where exactly he landed. Penguin was a little bit to the side of where the rafters broke, only a few steps away from where Batman caught Percy’s fall.

“Who’s this? An ugly little street rat living under a roof I own?” Penguin asked, looking at Percy with disgust.

“Bold words for a man who looks like Pinocchio’s and the Monopoly Man’s love child,” Percy snapped back reflexively.

Penguin seethed, looking at Percy with a rage so strong it made the veins in his forehead visible. “Handle the kid. Make sure the rest of the city’s scum learns not to walk around on my property.”

Batman suddenly launched into the fight with newfound viciousness, punching Penguin in the temple and knocking him out with a single hit. Penguin hit the floor with a heavy thud, his umbrella rolling out of his hands. Every man that approached him and Percy were dealt with ruthless efficiency, each one sent crumbling to the ground before they could so much as raise their weapons to try and hurt Batman.

Percy scrambled away from the fight, moving backwards until he felt his back hit something. He looked up and saw the barrel of a hand gun pointed straight at him.

“Sorry, kid. Boss’ orders,” the man with the gun said, shrugging apologetically.

Percy moved on instinct.

His leg swung up and hit the criminal with the gun right between his legs. The man howled with pain, clutching his legs together as he fell to his knees, dropping his gun to the floor. Before he could retaliate, Percy dove for Penguin’s umbrella and swung it at his head like a baseball bat, knocking him over.

“Ow! What the fuck?” the man demanded.

Percy just hit him in the face with the umbrella again. His nose broke with a sickeningly satisfying crunching noise.

Another man ran towards him with a knife in his hands. Percy swung the umbrella at the guy’s knees, sending him tumbling. Some other guy tried to dive on top of him, hands out and aiming to wrap around Percy’s neck, but Percy was able to get the umbrella between them in time. He pushed down on the umbrella, trying to crush Percy’s throat with it, but Robin, finished with his own fight, tackled Penguin’s man off of Percy and punched him in the eyes.

“Are you alright?” Batman asked, standing over Percy.

Percy nodded.

“You’re pretty good at fighting for an amateur, Jackson,” Robin commented as he pulled zip ties out of his belt and started tying up all the criminals.

“Thank you,” Percy said quietly.

He had gotten into fights before. Nothing so bad as this, obviously, but he had gotten used to the other kids at school picking on him for not being able to read or write. Some of the older kids made comments about how his mom was a whore for having Percy before she got married, and not marrying Percy’s dad. Those kids always got sent to the nurse’s office, while Percy got sent to the principal’s.

Mom is dead. Mom is dead. Mom is dead.

“Do you have anywhere else to stay?” Batman asked.

“Yeah, totally,” Percy lied after a second of hesitation. That was convincing, right? Yeah, they definitely bought it.

Robin snorted, making Batman give him another look.

“I can take you to another home, if you’d like,” Batman offered.

“That foundation you mentioned, right?” Percy asked.

“The Martha Wayne Foundation is an option. But I can also get you in contact with Bruce Wayne, if you’d like,” Batman said.

Percy frowned, confused. “The billionaire guy? Why?”

“B, are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Robin gasped, looking positively delighted.

“Bruce Wayne has adopted two children before, both of whom faced similar circumstances to yours. He would be willing to take you in, even temporarily,” Batman explained, not bothering to react to Robin’s question.

“Oh my god, it’s happening,” Robin whispered, ecstatic.

“So, what, would I just crash at this rich dude’s place until he gets sick of me and kicks me out?” Percy asked.

“He won’t get sick of you, I can guarantee that much,” Batman promised.

“Do you know him or something?” Percy asked.

“Or something,” Batman said.

Robin started cackling, putting a gloved hand over his mouth to smother his giggles.

“What about Mom?” Percy blurted out. If he moved in with Wayne, he would basically be abandoning her. Then, his eyes began to burn with tears.

Mom is dead. Mom is dead. Mom is dead.

“If you are living alone in a warehouse owned by a gang, then I don’t believe your mother is providing sufficient care,” Batman said.

“Don’t talk about her that way!” Percy snapped. “She did her best! But then I came home from school and - ”

And she was dead on the floor, with blood everywhere. Erin was there, with her too-sharp teeth hidden behind her too-perfect smile.

Percy wiped at his eyes before the tears could fall. It might have been nighttime, but the only time he let himself cry was just before he slept.

“I’m sorry,” Robin said, all his laughter gone. “Bruce Wayne’s a good person. You don’t have to get adopted by him if you don’t want to. You can just be his ward, and he’ll look after you until you turn eighteen.”

“Can’t I stay with you guys instead?” Percy asked, looking at Batman and Robin with pleading eyes.

Robin’s face twitched, like he was trying to stop himself from smiling. He stared up at Batman, and they seemed to have some kind of telepathic conversation before Batman let out a tired sigh.

“Take him to the Batmobile. I called the police to take these criminals to prison when we broke in, and I don’t want them seeing Jackson,” Batman said.

Robin let out a cheer, pumping his fists in the air, before turning to Percy. “C’mon, we’re going up.”

“Aren’t the rafters a little bit, uh, destroyed?” Percy asked, pointing up to all the bullet holes that dotted the rafters above. Honestly, Percy was surprised that the roof was still up with them broken like that.

“Not those, I meant we’re going out the window. Get all your things and I’ll take you,” Robin explained.

“Oh. Okay,” Percy said, mentally shrugging. He grabbed his dust-covered backpack, shoving his equally dirty clothes inside before putting the bag on and facing Robin.

“Great. Now, wrap one arm over my shoulder - yeah, like that. Now put the other one around my waist, and then grab your own wrist so that I don’t accidentally drop you. Good. I’m going to use my grappling hook to take us to the window there, and then I’ll take us down to the ground. The Batmobile is parked nearby,” Robin explained.

Percy squeezed close to Robin, almost like he was hugging him, as the vigilante took what Percy figured was his grappling hook off his utility belt and pointed it to the window.

Thwip. Clink.

The grappling hook was connected to the windowsill, and Robin tugged it twice to make sure the wire was taut.

“Hold on tight,” Robin said, before pushing a button that sent them both flying into the air, the rope making a zhrrr-ing sound as they landed at the window.

“That was so cool! Can we do that again?” Percy asked.

“We gotta get down first,” Robin said, amused.

Percy unwrapped his arms from Robin and began to climb down the side of the warehouse. Robin seemed to stare at him for a few seconds before laughing and climbing down with him.

“Something wrong?” Percy asked.

“It’s nothing. I guess I should’ve expected you knew how to climb, considering you kicked one of Penguin’s goons in the nuts and started bonking the rest with his own umbrella,” Robin said.

“Not to change the subject, but I’m gonna do that. What’s a ‘Batmobile’?” Percy asked.

“You don’t know what the Batmobile is?” Robin asked, shocked.

“No, I just asked for fun,” Percy quipped, just as his feet hit the ground.

“You really aren’t from Gotham, huh?” Robin mused.

“I’m from Manhattan. And you still haven’t answered my question,” Percy said.

“The Batmobile is the car Batman uses. He made it himself, and it can do basically anything,” Robin explained. He started walking away from the warehouse, and Percy followed. “Now will you answer a few questions of my own?”

“Okay,” Percy said.

“How’d you end up in Gotham?” Robin started with.

Percy felt his mood drop, but decided to be honest. “Mom said that if anything bad ever happened to her, I was supposed to take the train to Long Island and live with a friend of hers instead of staying with my stepdad or going into the system. I tried to do that, but then I got on the wrong train.”

“So you decided to stay in a warehouse owned by the Penguin?”

“I didn’t know it was his, dummy.”

“Right, of course,” Robin said, suddenly stopping in front of a random dumpster.

“Uh, Robin? Why’d we stop?” Percy asked.

“Because of this,” Robin said, smirking as he pulled a device from his belt and pushed a button on it.

The dumpster folded and disappeared underground (how did that work? Was the ground beneath Gotham hollow?), leaving behind an armoured black car that Percy could only assume was the batmobile.

“Woah,” Percy said.

“Pretty sweet, right? I stole the tires right off of it once,” Robin bragged.

Percy looked at him, dragged his gaze back to the tires that were very much still on the Batmobile, and then looked back at Robin. He narrowed his eyes at Robin.

Robin huffed and crossed his arms, but he was smiling. “Batman caught me, obviously. And then he offered to make me Robin, so it all worked out. Now let’s get in before someone catches us here.”

They both entered the car, Robin taking shotgun while he sent Percy into the backseat. The inside was just as black and expensive-looking as the outside, and from the back, Percy could see a million buttons and switches on the console and dashboard. Robin pressed a button on the same device from earlier, making the dumpster rise up again

“Do you ever just…ride it around?” Percy asked.

“Batman says it’s only for patrol. He keeps sensors on it too. Apparently Nightwing took it for a joyride when he was younger, so I’m not allowed to drive it at all unless there’s an emergency,” Robin said.

“Does it have a radio?” Percy asked.

“No. Batman says music is too distracting during patrol,” Robin said. Percy was pretty sure he was pouting.

Percy wrinkled his nose. “Well, that’s boring. What if you want to play boss music before you go and fight someone?”

“That’s…not really why I want music in the Batmobile, but that would be so cool,” Robin said.

“The Penguin and his men have been sorted by Commissioner Gordon and will be tried and sent to Gotham Penitentiary,” Batman said as he shut the door and started the Batmobile. He began to drive the car through the city, seemingly without even looking where he was going. Percy couldn’t decide if he was being reckless or just knew the streets that well, but considering what little he knew of Batman so far, he was leaning more towards the latter.

“So…?” Robin asked, looking at Batman expectantly.

“So what?” Percy asked, confused.

The vigilantes just seemed to have another telepathic conversation, this one ending with Batman nodding at Robin, who beamed in response.

“How do you feel about becoming a ward of Bruce Wayne’s, Jackson?” Batman asked, glancing at Percy through the rearview mirror.

Percy blinked at the sudden change in topic. “Why? It’s not like he’ll ever offer.”

“Would you accept it if he did?” Batman asked, hands flexing around the steering wheel.

“He’s not my family, so I don’t see why he’d bother with me. But if he randomly walked up to me and offered to let me live in his mansion and nothing else, then I’d be stupid to turn something like that down,” Percy said after a moment of deliberation.

“And you said you would rather stay with Batman and I, right?” Robin said, grinning like he was watching the funniest stuff in the world.

“I mean, I guess? You don’t have to look after me if you don’t want to, and I can handle myself just fine, it’s just that - ”

“You would rather live with someone who you already know and trust, compared to a public figure you’ve never met,” Batman finished.

“Uh, yeah. That,” Percy said lamely.

“Well, what if I told you you could do both?” Robin asked.

“Robin,” Batman reprimanded softly.

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?” Robin said, defensive.

“Are you friends with Bruce Wayne? Is that why you want me to go live with him?” Percy asked, glancing out the window as they entered an underground tunnel.

“Bruce Wayne and I are not quite friends,” Batman said.

“Are you dating? Because it’s cool if you are, I’m not homophobic or anything like that,” Percy said.

Robin laughed so hard he started coughing and choking.

“He and I aren’t dating either,” Batman said flatly, parking the car in some sort of dark cave.

“Then why are you so big on me staying with him?” Percy asked.

Batman sighed deeply, staring into the distance as if the stone walls of wherever they were would give him the answers he was looking for. Then, he pulled off his cowl.

“Because I’m Bruce Wayne,” Batman - Bruce Wayne?! - said. The growl in his voice was gone, making him sound much more normal to match his now-normal face. The normal face of a billionaire, apparently.

Percy stared.

Robin took off his domino mask and smiled at Percy through the rearview mirror.

“Sup. I’m Jason Todd,” the older boy said, flashing a peace sign at him as his blue eyes glittered with amusement.

“Percy,” he said slowly. “I’m Percy Jackson.”

“Well, Percy, how would you feel about staying with us after all?” Jason asked.

Percy smiled slightly. Bruce and Jason certainly weren’t Mom, but they were also pretty cool. Maybe staying with them wouldn’t be the most terrible thing in the world.

“I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

“local coffee cryptid” & “purple 💟”

local coffee cryptid : guess who’s got vids and pics of B’s face 3 days ago after he saw that Alfred passive aggressively gave everyone his favourite food except for him

purple 💟 : GIVE

local coffee cryptid : not so fast
local coffee cryptid : I want you to get back at Damian for me

purple 💟 : are you fucking kidding me right now

local coffee cryptid : not even a little
local coffee cryptid : he called me a “limp-dicked wannabe Dick” in Arabic last week and thought I wouldn’t notice
local coffee cryptid : I want you to enact revenge for me

purple 💟 : no then hell just perform counter revenge on ME

local coffee cryptid : then I guess you don’t want to see those photos of Bruce ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

purple 💟 : UGH FINE
purple 💟 : ill do your revenge for you
purple 💟 : give me a week and damian will find glitter on every surface of his room and orange hair dye in his shampoo

local coffee cryptid : wonderful
local coffee cryptid : [video and photos attached]

purple 💟 : djsfoabgasdkfh
purple 💟 : oh my god he looks so grumpy about not getting cheesecake im crying

local coffee cryptid : to be fair, the cheesecake was a 10/10. B getting in trouble with Alfred was just a bonus

purple 💟 : what was alfred even mad about lmao

local coffee cryptid : funny you should ask that
local coffee cryptid : would you like the one sentence summary or the slideshow I prepared :)

purple 💟 : wtf did i just walk into
purple 💟 : neither
purple 💟 : im texting duke

local coffee cryptid : oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Duke has been gathering information on this exact subject since he first met Bruce

purple 💟 : …
purple 💟 : how long is the slideshow

local coffee cryptid : I narrowed it down to a 90 minute presentation >:D

purple 💟 : narrowed it down????
purple 💟 : fuck it now im curious
purple 💟 : meet you in the manors theatre in half an hour

local coffee cryptid : hell yes, I’ve waited two years for this
local coffee cryptid : I’m getting cass and duke they need to be here

Steph arrived at the Manor twelve minutes late, receiving a blueberry mini cheesecake from Alfred upon entering before she and Tim stepped into the home theatre, where Cass and Duke were already there waiting for them. Tim connected his laptop to the massive screen, and went through his entire presentation about Perseus “Percy” Odysseus Jackson-Wayne. It covered everything about him, from his childhood of repeatedly getting expelled and the likelihood that his murdered stepfather was abusive and an alcoholic, to his time living with Bruce as a vigilante and Wayne, to all the information Tim could scrape together about what happened after he left Gotham.

The only piece of information that Tim couldn’t access was Percy’s file on the Batcomputer. For whatever reason, Bruce kept it sealed, meaning that there was definitely something worth hiding in there, and Tim intended to find out.

Even before becoming Robin or Red Robin, Tim had been mildly fascinated by Percy Jackson. They were the same age, and went to Gotham Elementary School together for a short time despite never being close. Percy had always gotten in trouble in class, a habit that remained consistent over the course of his life. Besides being in the same school year, Tim had only ever seen Percy face-to-face one time after the other boy ran away, and it was unlikely that Percy saw him positively after that.

“I’m shocked this man isn’t more famous. How has he not been sent to prison yet?” Steph asked, laughing once the presentation finished.

“Not due to a lack of trying on the police’s part,” Tim said.

“He was accused of terrorism,” Steph said.

“Was one of the sources you used Buzzfeed Unsolved?” Duke asked, squinting at the works cited on the final slide.

“Bernard and I both can recite that entire video from memory,” Tim said, nodding.

“Hiding something,” Cass said, looking at Tim curiously.

Tim scowled. “It’s more fun when you’re using your insane body language abilities to help me, you know.”

Cass just shrugged.

“Are you gonna spill, or are we going to have to make you?” Steph asked.

“Fine, whatever,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. “I’m showing you this because I want all four of us to work together and make first contact with Percy.”

“I love how you say ‘make first contact’ like he’s some sort of distant planet that we’ve never been to before,” Steph remarked.

“Eh. Same idea in principle, except this distant planet was trained by Bruce,” Tim said.

“Why bother with going to meet Percy when we all know that Alfred’s going to force him into a family dinner sooner or later?” Duke asked.

“We need to begin a positive precedent in order to get any level of information out of him - I mean, you saw how strange his known appearances were. If we meet him today, then we’ll have already established a relationship that can lead towards even more benefits at said family dinner. That way, if he feels uncomfortable with questions around Bruce, we can go after him individually without it seeming too suspicious,” Tim explained.

“You don’t need us for that, though,” Steph said. “You could absolutely go find him yourself, instead of bothering us with a presentation and having us go meet him. Hell, you’ve done things like this before. Why are you telling us about all this?”

“I may have already met Percy. He may have slightly hated me that one time we met. Therefore if I were to approach him, and he were to recognize me, he would not be very forthcoming with any information whatsoever. But if there are three other people, then statistically he’s bound to like one of you more than the rest, and will open up at least a little,” Tim explained.

“So we’re meeting him today?” Duke asked.

“Yup,” Tim said. He then pulled up security camera footage onto the screen. “He’s currently leaving his new apartment and heading south. If I had to guess, since he just moved in, he’s heading towards the closest supermarket. We’ll bump into him there.”

“Sure, yeah, just three of Bruce Wayne’s kids and the kid that is usually seen hanging out with them in a random grocery store in the Narrows. That’s not suspicious,” Steph said dryly.

“Wealthy teenage eccentricity. As long as we play it right, he’ll buy it,” Tim said, waving a hand dismissively as he walked out of the theatre to go to the supermarket.

“You guys are actually doing this?” Duke asked Cass and Steph.

“And miss a chance to stir shit up? I think the fuck not,” Steph replied.

Cass nodded, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“This feels unnecessary,” Duke said, but followed the rest of them out the door anyway.

“But it will become a funny story somewhere between five minutes and five years after it happens,” Steph argued.

“Precisely,” Tim said, smiling that one smile that leaned on the wrong side of uncanny and usually made people just agree with what he said so that he’d stop.

They got into Tim’s car and drove all the way from Bristol to the Narrows, stopping a block away from the supermarket. Tim checked the security cameras on his laptop, confirming that Percy was in the store at that time, before they entered. Tim got a shopping cart to make it look like they intended to buy stuff, to which Steph replied by jumping inside it and started using it as a lounge chair, so whatever.

The four of them split into two groups, with Steph immediately calling dibs on Cass (that traitorous blonde witch), so Tim and Duke took off towards the produce section. On the way there, they managed to spot Percy, who was throwing various containers of spices into his half-filled shopping cart.

Tim and Duke exchanged looks before going down that same aisle.

Percy had headphones on, with one ear left uncovered to remain appropriately vigilant. His nails were painted a simple blue, though it was partly chipped away, and he had hoop earrings in - they were either breakaways since those were better for combat, or regular hoops if he had somehow quit fighting in recent years (highly unlikely). Those along with the drawstring hoodie, ripped jeans, and worn sneakers all gave him a very skater-meets-punk look. Tim got the vague impression that Percy and Kon would probably share edgy Pinterest boards if they ever met.

“Hey, do you think we should get some nutmeg? I saw this thing online that said it was a good exfoliant for the skin,” Tim remarked, picking up the nearest nutmeg jar and examining it carefully.

“Are you sure that’s true? I’m pretty sure it’s mostly used for pumpkin pie,” Duke said.

“Maybe. Oh, hey, there’s some chili powder over there, what about that?” Tim asked. The chili powder happened to be the same thing that Percy was looking at, giving them a way to get even closer without seeming suspicious.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Percy said, eyes lazily flicking to Tim and Duke. “You can just interrogate me. I already figured one of you guys would approach me sooner or later. Actually, I thought you would approach me sooner. You’re late.”

Tim stared, furrowing his brows with practiced confusion. “I’m…sorry? Do I know you?”

“Oh, are we pretending that you didn’t stalk me here? Okay, I’ll get back to shopping,” Percy said, grabbing the chili powder and pushing his cart forwards.

“Stalk? I’m sorry, I’ve never even seen you before. Are you from around here?” Duke asked, giving a perfectly hesitant glance between Tim and Percy.

“Of course not. Even if you didn’t do any research - which I doubt, by the way, you probably know my entire life story - you should at least be able to tell that my accent is from New York. I’m only here for work,” Percy asked.

“What kind of work brings a New Yorker around our age to Gotham?” Tim asked.

Percy looked at them, unimpressed. “That wasn’t even a remotely subtle dig. If you’re going to stalk me here, you could at least try to be discreet. You probably went through the security cams or just assumed that I would be in the closest supermarket to my apartment, right? Why go through the effort if your actual interrogation is going to have all the subtlety of a hippo on rollerblades?”

His green eyes met Tim’s, piercingly sharp. Tim quickly adjusted his plan to account for the fact that Percy didn’t seem to care for social faux pas that was announcing that you anticipated being stalked by a billionaire’s kids in public and had no issues practically admitting that he was trained by Bruce too.

“Caught me,” Tim admitted, giving a sheepish smile. “I really just wanted to meet you.”

“Well, now you have,” Percy said simply. He pulled his cart into the next aisle, not bothering to look at Tim and Duke as they followed him.

“You seem friendly,” Tim commented.

“I am to my friends,” Percy said.

“Since I came all this way, would you mind if I asked a question or two?” Tim asked.

“Yeah, I actually would mind,” Percy replied. He made no effort to move away from Tim and Duke, simply comparing the prices of different tomato sauce brands.

Tim felt his eye twitch minutely. From the way that Percy smirked for a split second, he saw it too.

A sudden crashing noise rang out in the whole store, and Tim knew the second he heard it that it just had to be the girls. Sure enough, Steph and Cass came bolting into the same aisle as Tim, Duke, and Percy just a few seconds after.

“Hey, so, you might not want to go to the produce section unless you plan on playing dodgeball with the melons,” Steph mentioned offhandedly.

“Sea,” Cass added.

“Or go to the seafood section unless you want to see what lobster guts look like on the floor,” Steph continued.

“Did you almost break the grocery store?” Duke demanded.

“No, we just broke the produce and seafood sections,” Steph corrected.

“What happened to the shopping cart you had?” Tim asked.

Cass just shrugged innocently.

Percy snorted. “Oh, you four are definitely B's,” he said.

“Who are you?” Steph asked, glancing at him like that was the first time she saw him.

“You guys really don’t have to bother with the ignorance thing. It’s more exhausting than effective, honestly,” Percy said.

“Mad,” Cass said, looking at Percy thoughtfully. She seemed intrigued, but not defensive, which Tim took as a good sign.

“Who, me?” Percy asked. Cass nodded. “I suppose I am. But I think it’s more interesting that you knew that just at a glance. I like to think I’m better at hiding my emotions than that.”

“No, you are. At least, I couldn’t tell. Cass is just really good at reading people,” Duke explained.

“Cass? Is that short something?” Percy asked.

“Cassandra,” Cass said.

“I guess we’re Greek mythology name twins, then. I was named Perseus, with my middle name being Odysseus, to invoke famous Greek heroes, while Cassandra was the last princess of Troy and a seeress,” Percy said, smiling at Cass.

Tim felt victory come within arm’s reach. His plan worked; having four of them meet Percy at once proved to connect him with one of them. Going forwards, it would be beneficial to have Cass in the room whenever they tried to get information out of Percy.

“What do you mean when you say you were named ‘to invoke’ Greek heroes?” Tim asked.

Percy looked at Tim, hesitant, before seeming to come to his decision. “How about this? I’ll explain the reasoning behind my name, and even some significance behind Cass’, in exchange for you not interrogating me further and you have to pay for my groceries.”

“That’s a shit deal,” Tim argued immediately.

“Then I guess you don’t get any answers out of me about my name,” Percy said, shrugging.

Tim scoffed. He had better questions to ask than about his namesake.

“How about we get to ask you one other question afterwards?” Duke bartered.

“So long as your question isn’t invasive beyond reason, then sure. Maybe you won’t even need it. But I want to reserve the right to reject any questions that I think are too personal,” Percy agreed. He grabbed a few cans of tomato sauce and moved down the aisle, with the rest of them matching him step for step.

“Deal,” Tim said.

“The most important thing to note is that names have power. Perseus was a son of Zeus, most famous for using winged shoes from Hermes and a reflective shield from Athena to slay Medusa. Odysseus, while not a demigod, was a brilliant strategist and general in the Trojan War. He faced ten years of war, then another ten years of travels while fighting many monsters. The most crucial parts of both of their stories, at least according to my mom, was the fact that they both got to have happily ever afters. Perseus got to live the rest of his life married to Andromeda. Odysseus was finally reunited with his wife, Penelope, and son, Telemachus,” Percy explained.

“So to invoke Perseus and Odysseus in your name would be to invoke a long and happy life with your loved ones,” Tim surmised.

“Exactly. And as for Cassandra,” Percy continued, turning to Cass again. “She’s more of a tragic tale. The god of the sun and of prophecy, Apollo, fell in love with her, and he gifted her the gift of prophecy. But when Cassandra dumped him, he cursed her to always accurately tell the future, but no one would ever believe her. As princess of Troy, she knew that Paris was her long-lost brother, and that Helen would lead to the fall of her city. She foresaw the Acheans - the Greeks, that is - being inside the Trojan Horse, the wanderings of Odysseus, hers and Agemmemnon’s deaths, and a bunch of other things.”

“What does this have to do with Cass?” Steph asked.

“Nothing in particular. But I do think it’s fascinating that Cassandra was a seeress, whereas Cass can, at least from what I’ve noticed, read nonverbal signals and body language extremely well. No one believed Cassandra, but you all seem to believe Cass,” Percy said.

“She’s our sister. Of course we believe her,” Duke said, edging towards getting protective.

“Hector and Paris were the original Cassandra’s brothers, and they didn’t trust her. But it’s probably better to believe her than to not, considering she was right about me being a little pissed off right now. I don’t know anything about you or your life, Cass, but given what I know, I can imagine that your parents named you this way because they wanted to invoke Cassandra’s truth in sight,” Percy said.

Tim had a million things he wanted to say in response, but he made a deal, so he bit his tongue and chose his single permitted question carefully.

“Now it’s your turn, isn’t it? Ask me any question that isn’t too intrusive, and I’ll answer truthfully,” Percy said.

They pondered for a moment, meeting each other’s eyes before coming to the unspoken agreement that Tim would be the one to ask.

“When we first met two years ago, you were with three other individuals. Camera footage of that time is unnaturally distorted, indicating that you either went and messed with them, or you had meta or magical involvement. The only person of your group who was recognizable because of this was you. Who were your companions that night?” Tim asked.

“Nice try. I’m not telling you shit about anyone else’s business,” Percy said.

“Fine. That same day, you seemed to hate my guts. Why was that?” Tim asked.

Percy’s face shuttered, an old bitterness growing in his eyes before he let out a humourless chuckle. “You were wearing Jason’s old uniform, remember? After he died, no one should have touched those colours again.”

Tim sucked in a breath through his teeth.

When he met Percy for the first time, Tim had been Robin. It was just as the Red Hood was beginning to surface in the Gotham criminal world, and everyone thought that Jason was dead. When Percy saw Tim that night, he must have seen it as incredibly disrespectful to Jason’s memory.

Not only that, but according to Alfred, Percy still thought that Jason was dead.

“I wore that uniform to do my part for this city, and to keep Jason’s legacy alive. Me, and everyone who wore that after I did, do it in honour of those who came before us,” Tim said. “And Jason became okay with it - ”

“You could have honoured him without wearing his shit,” Percy snapped, teeth bared. He took a deep breath and calmed himself down. “But that was two years ago, and I’m not in the mood for holding a grudge. Well, I’m not in the mood for holding a grudge against you.”

Tim could tell that Percy meant to imply that his only grudge was against Bruce.

“Jason eventually accepted that I was wearing his uniform, and that I passed it down,” Tim tried to explain. “Jason is aliv - ”

Percy, quicker than Tim anticipated, grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the stacks of cans. Steph, Duke, and Cass tensed, ready for a fight, but Tim waved them off.

“Did you pull out a fucking Ouija board and ask him? I tried. I tried everything I could to get him back, to talk to him, or to even see him again. I went to see necromancers and people who could get me in contact with the spirits of the dead. None of it worked. If there was a way to talk to Jason, I would have found it a long time ago,” Percy hissed. He didn’t cry, but there was an old pain in his eyes.

“Fine,” Tim acquiesced. “I won’t mention it again. Now, I think we agreed I’d pay for your groceries?”

Percy let go of Tim, and everyone relaxed. “Sorry about that. Most of my friends know better than to mention…any of that with me. I should have warned you about my temper,” Percy said, head lowered and looking truly apologetic.

“No worries,” Tim said, grabbing his phone.

“replacement” & “zombie”

replacement : just met percy
replacement : I tried to tell him that you were alive
replacement : he almost attacked me for it lol
lreplacement : now I’m paying for his groceries and I got a lecture in greek mythology
replacement : he still thinks your dead btw

zombie : What the fuck
zombie : What is wrong with you
zombie : Why the hell would you go find him

replacement : curious

zombie : Sleep with one eye open fucker

replacement : already do <3

—

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, New Jersey
2003

After taking in two - now three - children, Bruce had learned a lot. He learned that chandeliers must be reinforced to insure the safety of anyone doing gymnastics on them, for instance. He also became very good at negotiating hours of vigilantism in exchange for participating in galas and public events.

One of the most crucial things that Bruce learned after becoming a parent was that there were three spheres of life that a child had to adapt to after they became Bruce’s ward or son: the social sphere, the vigilante sphere, and the personal sphere.

The social sphere was fairly simple for all three of his boys so far. It consisted of Bruce teaching them things such as how to handle Bruce when he was in his Brucie persona, how to manage small talk with Gotham’s upper crust during galas, and how to conduct themselves during planned and spontaneous interviews.

The vigilante sphere was the second most laborious. Once Percy was mostly settled in the Manor, Bruce began to train him for vigilantism. After seeing how Percy was naturally able to face the Penguin and his henchmen, even while panicking, Bruce predicted it would be the easiest of the spheres for him. Percy first learned the same basics that Bruce taught Dick and Jason - first aid, how to handle the equipment, detective training, strength and stamina practice, lying, and other simple skills that Percy would need to master before Bruce could even consider letting him into the field.

Only once he perfected those did Bruce finally begin to teach him combat. As it turned out, Percy was something of a fighting prodigy. With Dick, it had been all about teaching him to utilize the acrobatic skills and muscles he already had in a fight. With Jason, Bruce focussed on teaching him how to channel his rage towards taking down an opponent.

Percy, almost instinctively, moved his feet towards the proper fighting stances. His hands naturally came up to protect his face, and he had a knack for dodging quick and striking fast.

“Have you trained before?” Bruce asked.

They were in the Batcave, dressed in sweatpants and tank tops as they went through beginner sparring moves that Percy was rapidly advancing beyond.

“No,” Percy replied, visibly confused at the question. “I’m just sort of guessing and hoping for the best.”

“You have no experience with fighting at all?” Bruce pressed, skeptical.

“I mean, I’ve gotten into fights at school before, but the thing with Penguin was the closest I’ve been to an actual fight,” Percy said.

Within two weeks, Percy was capable of handling his own against Jason in a hand-to-hand match. Percy still lost more often than not, but that was mostly due to the fact that Jason was older and bigger, with far more experience. The fact that Percy occasionally managed to pin Jason at all was a wonder.

It was this fact combined with how Percy’s blood results seemed…off that prompted Bruce to believe that Percy was potentially meta. Normally, Bruce would be very strict about making sure there were no metas in Gotham because of the security risk they posed, but it was abundantly clear that Percy had no idea of if this was the case.

The most likely scenario that Bruce could imagine was that Percy’s biological father was meta, thus making Percy half-meta. Given that the man was never listed on any birth certificate, and Percy stated he had never met his father in his life, it would make sense. A meta man sleeps with a non-meta woman, the woman never learns a detail about him despite ending up pregnant, and the child never meets his father. Bruce decided to keep an eye on any indication of high risk with Percy beyond having an unnatural talent for fighting and strange blood test results.

Despite Percy’s gift for combat, he was still very much new to it, so Bruce only sketched any potential vigilante suits.

Not to mention how Percy struggled with the detective side of what Bruce did. It wasn’t because he was unintelligent, but it was predominantly due to his ADHD and dyslexia. The dyslexia made it challenging for Percy to review files and for him to take notes of any sort. The ADHD meant that Percy often missed key aspects of the mock cases Bruce gave him, and Percy would sometimes get distracted from the more tedious parts of doing detective work. Bruce could only imagine how a stakeout would go.

Whenever Bruce tried to give advice for how to improve, Percy would get frustrated with himself and start snapping at everyone around him. It was becoming more and more clear to Bruce that Percy believed that he was less capable than his non-disabled peers, and a lot of his anger stemmed from feeling that he was weaker, when that was far from the case. Percy was a child, for one thing, and Dick and Jason alike both struggled with boredom when they were younger.

Since he didn't know how to tackle Percy's issues with self-worth, Bruce decided to find ways to work around Percy's struggle to read. Bruce added an auditory function to the Batcomputer and the rest of the technology in the Manor, not just for cases but for school work and pleasure reading. After the new function was added, Percy was able to work through cases much more effectively. The main issue with that was that each word had to be spoken in its robotic entirety, so it was difficult for Percy to get through a passage with any level of efficiency.

One thing that became significantly easier once Percy could listen instead of struggling to read was that he could learn languages much faster. While he still had to work twice as hard for the reading and writing aspects of each language, Percy’s listening and speaking improved, especially in the romance languages.

The last sphere was the most challenging for everyone involved - the personal sphere. It was all of the aspects of daily life that Percy became incorporated in. Considering Percy was the third child Bruce had taken in, one could make the assumption that Bruce had some level of technical know-how when it came to handling traumatized and grieving children.

Those who made such an assumption would be very wrong.

Bruce was one of such people.

He assumed that he mostly understood how to deal with children. In fact, plenty of things remained the same. Bruce helped Percy buy a new wardrobe and furnish his room, showed him around the Manor, and made sure that Percy knew the most imminent emergency protocols.

He learned that Percy had an affinity for anything and everything blue, and Alfred soon discovered that the best way to get him to eat when his appetite was low was to add a few drops of blue food dye. Since that was unhealthy and Percy was competent in the kitchen (unlike Dick and Bruce, much to Jason’s amusement), Percy and Alfred were working on ways to add hints of blue to more meals in natural ways, like through blueberries.

There was also the fact that Percy was recently orphaned and in a new city. This was naturally a very emotionally stressful time for him, and he threw fits as a result. Percy often screamed and broke the nearest object during his lower emotional points, but was fairly calm during his better moments. Of course, Bruce didn’t begrudge him for this; he reacted similarly when he lost his parents. After Percy’s more intense fits, Bruce would help calm him down and take him to the cave to help him channel his emotions towards justice, like Bruce did with Dick and Jason before him.

Jason and Alfred were both more when it came to dealing with Percy’s outbursts than Bruce was. Alfred would usually give Percy a soothing cup of the blue tea Bruce ordered specifically for Percy, and would hold him as he cried. Jason was good at distracting Percy from his grief for short periods at a time, often through cracking jokes and telling Percy stories.

One night, Jason didn’t arrive in the Batcave to get ready for patrol, which was unusual enough to be worrying.

Bruce had gone looking through the Manor for him, eventually finding him and Percy in the library. The only source of light was the nearest lamp, and Jason’s voice was soft as he read S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders to a sleepy Percy. They were both bundled in blankets, and after a few minutes, Percy eventually closed his eyes as he slumped against his older brother. Jason then made eye contact with Bruce, making a shushing motion before smiling apologetically.

Bruce went on patrol alone that night, but he didn’t particularly mind it. When he came back in the morning, both of his boys were asleep in the library.

While Alfred used conversation and tea to help Percy adjust, and Jason used the vast expanse of the library, there were instances where it was up to Bruce. Fortunately for him, Percy’s preferred form comforting himself and showing affection was through being tactile. Once Percy became comfortable in the Manor, he began to greet everyone with a hug.

One night, after a lengthy patrol without Jason since he had a test the next morning and needed to rest, Bruce walked aimlessly around the Manor, unable to rest but forbidden by Alfred to work anymore until the next day. He happened to glance out the window and see Percy sitting cross-legged next to the small lake in the Manor’s gardens.

Bruce went outside only to see that Percy was sitting in the grass in his pajamas (which was bound to upset Alfred once he found out) staring at the fish with tears silently trickling down his face.

“Percy?” Bruce asked softly from a few paces away, hoping not to startle the boy.

Percy glanced up at him, wiping his eyes and sniffling before he waved at Bruce. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that,” Bruce said as he got closer.

“Couldn’t sleep. I barely sleep anymore,” Percy muttered, turning back to face the fish lazily swimming in the lake beside him.

“Nightmares?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah. I keep seeing Mom and Gabe, all torn up and bloody. Before all this, I would have been happy to see Gabe dead. He was awful. But I don't think that anyone deserved to die like that, not even him,” Percy said quietly.

“Sometimes I still have nightmares about the night my parents died,” Bruce confessed.

“So it’ll never get better?” Percy asked, voice breaking on even more tears.

Bruce scrambled to backtrack. “No, that’s not it at all. I meant to say that I don’t have them every night like I used to, like you seem to. I still miss my parents. I will always miss them. But every day, it hurts less and less, until one day the pain is like a paper cut instead of a broken bone.”

“I used the computer you got me to look Mom up online,” Percy said, and Bruce was slightly thrown by the sudden shift in subject. “I found out that her funeral was two weeks ago. One of Gabe’s poker buddies got worried when he didn’t see him for a few days, so they broke the door down and found them. She and Gabe had a shared funeral, and I missed it.”

Bruce’s heart felt like it was about to crack into two. The sight of his own parent’s funeral flashed behind his eyes, and he could almost feel how his too-tight black formalwear dug into his skin.

“Why don’t I drive you up to New York and we can visit the graveyard tomorrow?” Bruce offered. “We can pick up flowers and anything else you would like to put on their graves on the way.”

Percy looked up at him, green-blue eyes going wide and wet. “You would do that for me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Bruce said.

Percy launched himself at Bruce, throwing his arms around Bruce’s chest and resting on Bruce’s legs. After a second of hesitation, Bruce wrapped his arms around Percy right back, squeezing gently.

“Thank you,” Percy whispered, voice watery.

The next day, they did exactly that.

Bruce and Percy had separately picked out all-black outfits, and got into the car early that morning. They stopped by the florist’s, and Percy grabbed two bouquets, one filled with bright blue thistles and forget-me-nots, while the other was far simpler with tulips and lilies. Then, Percy asked to go to the nearest gas station, where he picked out a can of cheap beer and a bag of sour Skittles before they drove two hours up to the cemetery where Sally Jackson and Gabriel Ugliano were buried.

Percy poured the beer and placed the tulips and lilies on his stepfather’s grave, explaining that that particular beer was his favourite and that since he didn’t know what flowers to give the man he decided on what looked prettiest. Then, he placed the blue flowers next to his mother’s headstone and poured the Skittles onto the grass.

Percy pressed his knees to his chest as he sat on his mother’s grave, crying so hard he couldn’t breathe, while Bruce soothingly moved his hand up and down Percy’s back.

I promise your son will always be safe with me, Bruce thought as he stared at Sally Jackson’s grave.

Later that day, when they came home, Alfred took one look at them and made a comforting and creamy potato soup. He even let them have an extra scoop of ice cream with dessert. When Jason noticed Percy’s somber mood, he gave his younger brother a hug and spent another night with him curled up in the library as he read from a book of children’s poems.

After that day, Percy wandered the halls of the Manor far less often, and his outbursts, while still occasionally occurring, decreased in frequency and intensity.

“You’re good at this,” Bruce told Jason two days later, as they watched Percy run stamina drills in the cave.

“Good at what?” Jason asked.

“Taking care of Percy. You’re a good big brother,” Bruce explained.

“Am I?” Jason asked, pleased. When Bruce nodded at him, he beamed. “Hell yeah I am! Way better than Dick, at least.”

“Jason, are you trying to be a good older brother to Percy to spite Dick?” Bruce asked, narrowing his eyes at his second son.

“No way. If Percy just happens to like me more than Dick, that’s Dick’s problem. And if Percy agrees to cover for me the next time Dick comes over so I can fill his shoes with shaving cream, then that’s also Dick’s problem,” Jason said, giggling softly.

“I would hope that you also intend to truly care for Master Percy beyond your scheming, right, Master Jason?” Alfred asked pointedly, somehow entering at that exact moment.

“Of course, Alfie,” Jason said, smiling at Alfred as he walked past them to hand Percy a water bottle.

There were also, as Bruce should have anticipated, bizarre and concerning consequences to teaching a young boy how to take down grown men thrice his size.

The standout moment was the Aquarium Incident, as Jason would later call it.

After learning that Percy loved swimming and spent some of his free time feeding the fish in the small lake in the Manor’s gardens, Jason had pestered Bruce until he agreed to let them go to the Gotham City Aquarium one evening. Percy practically started vibrating with joy when Bruce had told him about this, and maintained a similar level of enthusiasm the whole time.

However, about halfway through the aquarium, Percy had started frowning.

“Something wrong, Perce?” Jason asked, noticing Percy’s sudden dip in mood.

“The fish feel sad,” Percy said.

Jason glanced at the fish, confused. “No, they look the same as fish always do. You know. Fishy.”

“I mean it. Can’t you feel how sad they are? They want to escape,” Percy insisted.

“The aquarium takes good care of all the fish here. I’m sure the fish feel very happy,” Bruce said.

Percy shook his head. “They want to be free.”

He was then distracted by the dolphin exhibit, and they spent half an hour there before Percy mentioned that they needed to go to the restroom.

"Could you go into the bathroom and get him?" Bruce asked Jason after they stood outside for fifteen minutes, getting increasingly concerned.

Jason nodded, heading inside only for a minute before exiting again.

"Percy's not in there," Jason said, hiding the frantic edge to his voice while they were in public.

"Did you see if he was taken?" Bruce asked, worry building in his gut and a million plans and procedures running through his mind.

"No, he left. The vents were ripped open, and they were tiny enough that I couldn't fit through them," Jason explained.

Just then, they heard Percy’s voice shouting from the other side of the aquarium.

“Bruce!” Percy cried, looking straight at him. He was being escorted out by two security guards and was thoroughly drenched, a puddle forming on the floor beneath him.

“Percy!” Bruce said, rushing towards him with Jason on his heels. “Percy, are you alright? What happened?”

“We caught him trying to steal the fish, Mr. Wayne,” one of the security guards explained.

“Gentlemen, please, I’m certain this was some kind of misunderstanding - ” Bruce began, donning his Brucie voice and mannerisms like a familiar cloak.

“I wasn’t trying to steal them, I was trying to free them! They deserve better than to be trapped here!” Percy protested, kicking the shins of the security guard closest to him.

“Percy, enough,” Bruce said, looking his youngest sternly in the eye until he reigned his behaviour in. “I’m very sorry about him. Why don’t I help you two fine men out and we can make sure that the press doesn’t find out about such a situation? This will ruin his college applications, you see.”

“You tried to steal the fish?” Jason asked, torn between incredulity and uproarious laughter.

“I tried to free the fish!” Percy corrected.

“He was found inside the tropical marine life tank shoving fish into his pockets, Mr. Wayne,” the security guard said.

“How do you have the audacity to consider yourself an American if this is how you treat those without power? Our nation’s motto is life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, but if your treatment of these fish is any indication, then you’ve never heard of any of those concepts before! What makes you think you have the right to trap these fish inside glass boxes and put them on display as if their entire life’s purpose is simply to exist for a scientist to study and a common man to marvel at!” Percy shouted, seething.

“Excuse me?” one of the security guards said, glowering at Percy.

“You are not excused - not by me, and not for your crimes against the fact that fishes have the right to be free like everyone else born in America! If all you have to say to me is ‘excuse me’, then you should be ashamed! What makes you better than a fish, huh? The only distinguishing part of a man is the hand!” Percy exclaimed.

Bruce stared at Percy, baffled for all of two seconds, before he recognized Percy’s last sentence and turned to Jason with a glare.

“How was I supposed to know that reading him Animal Farm would turn into this?” Jason demanded, pointing at Percy.

“Why were you reading George Orwell to your nine-year-old brother in the first place? Why have you read George Orwell?” Bruce asked desperately.

“Because the sociopolitical themes are relevant beyond its period and the use of metaphor to show how any group in power becomes corrupted is inspiring,” Jason retorted.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, before taking out his cheque book from his pocket and writing down a random number followed by a copious amount of zeroes. He gave his most ditziest smile and made a charming joke before throwing the cheque at the security guards and making sure they ensured that no one learned of this incident.

He grabbed each of his children, hauled them over his shoulders, and carried them to the car.

Bruce then banned all trips to any animal-related exhibit in the future.

Chapter Text

The Narrows
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

Percy’s arms felt like they were about to fall off.

He had been giving Mrs. O’Leary belly rubs for thirty minutes. Thirty minutes! And she still showed no signs of rolling back over. She just kept lying on her back, paws up in the air and tongue flopping out of her mouth, demanding more belly scratches.

Eventually, Percy had to stop giving her rubs and get up off the mildly dirty floor of his new apartment in the Narrows. He could hold up the sky itself, but a forty-ton hell puppy? Impossible. Percy sternly ignored the pleading look Lea sent him for more rubs.

“Hey,” Percy greeted the Iris Message that suddenly appeared behind him.

“Godsdamnit Percy, I deliberately paid extra for the IM to show up behind you so that I could scare you,” Thalia grumbled.

Percy turned around, smiling wide as he was faced with the sight of Thalia in her Hunter’s jacket, arms crossed and pouting at him from the other side of the rainbow.

“Aw, you should know better than to try and sneak up on me, Pinecone Face,” Percy cooed mockingly, smug.

“Well forgive me for thinking you would be easier to catch off guard in your own home,” Thalia said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m never caught off guard, especially in my own home,” Percy corrected. “Just ask Connor and Travis. They’ve been trying to get the drop on me since I was twelve.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Speaking of, how’s the new place?” Thalia asked.

Percy resisted the urge to let his eyebrows raise with surprise and suspicion. Thalia was never one for making idle small talk, and social calls for her usually had a second purpose, be it a chance to brag about her latest adventure with the other Hunters of Artemis or talking smack for their next rematch (though Percy maintained that he had the winning streak). She was most likely fishing for information, for whatever reason.

“It’s alright. The money Chiron gave me was enough to get a place, some furniture, and my first round of groceries. I also bought a bunch of dog things for Mrs. O’Leary,” Percy said.

“She’s staying with you?” Thalia asked.

“Yup. On a completely unrelated note, why are you IM-ing me instead of just calling like a normal person? Haven’t the demigod-safe phones that the Hephaestus and Vulcan kids made been given to the Hunters yet?” Percy asked.

“Sure, but most of the Hunters are centuries older than boomers, so they have a deep distrust of phones, and the rest are demigods like me who have never been able to use them before now. So we still IM people,” Thalia explained.

“I hope you realize that basically everyone in Camp Half-Blood and New Rome has these phones. You’re going to be the only person IM-ing me while I’m on my assignment,” Percy said.

“Yeah, I know. I still think your assignment is stupid, by the way,” Thalia said.

Percy frowned minutely. “Gotham’s been hurting demigods since it was founded. I’m one of the few lucky enough to last more than a few days in this city. I’m way stronger than the satyrs that are sent here, so I have a better chance of helping out any other demigods that wind up in Gotham than they do.”

“I know that,” Thalia said, huffing slightly. “I’m just saying that if so many demigods get killed in Gotham, then the gods should stop having kids there.”

“Demigods get killed everywhere in the country, before and after they go to Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter. Gotham’s just a particularly bad example,” Percy argued.

“I’ve been to Gotham once. It was back when Annie, Luke, and I were on the run. We got chased out within that day,” Thalia said.

“And I lived here for three years, so shut up, maybe,” Percy said, hackles rising.

“No need to get defensive, Kelp Head. I’m just saying that this shouldn’t be your responsibility,” Thalia said, raising her hands in surrender.

“Sorry. And since when has me not having to take responsibility ever stopped me?” Percy asked, giving a humourless smile. Facing Kronos. Facing Gaea. Losing Jason. All of them shouldn’t have been his responsibility. But they were his load to bear anyways.

“Speaking of that…” Thalia said, before trailing off with a hesitant expression.

Ah. So that was what she really called for.

“Yeah?” Percy asked.

“I know that you’re probably feeling really shitty about being in Gotham - I mean, there’s a reason why I never go back to Malibu. I was lucky enough to get my Jason back, and I know how I would feel if you got yours and I still lost mine, so I guess I just wanted to ask if you were okay,” Thalia said in a rush, stumbling over her words slightly in her haste.

Percy felt himself soften. “I’m okay, Thals. It’s been weird living here again, but I can handle it.”

“Just…call if you need to, alright?” Thalia said.

“I will. I promise,” Percy said.

They chatted for a few more minutes about lighter things. They talked about how Percy was going to be able to eat at Batburger again, and how Thalia was stuck sharing a tent with the Hunter’s newest recruit who happened to be a total jerk. Eventually, Lea began pawing at the door and slobbering over her leash, so Percy had to end the IM and take her on a walk.

The problem with having a hellhound as a pet was that while Lea could shrink and grow from the size of a semi truck to the size of an abnormally large dog, she needed to spend some time in her full size before she started chewing on the furniture and mauling the neighbours.

Percy decided on taking her on short daily walks, and longer ones every few days to the nearest forest so that she could run around in her usual form without passerbys thinking that he was walking a firetruck on a leash.

As he walked a couple blocks down, Lea practically trotting while her drool hit the pavement, he found himself staring at the familiar sight of Gotham City’s streets. It looked completely different after so many years, not because it had changed, but because Percy had. It was like he was looking at it all with brand-new eyeballs, and these eyes came with Annabeth’s voice in the background going on about how the city was a combination of Gothic, Industrial, and Brutalist architecture.

Living in Gotham again after so long was…strange.

On one hand, it was awful. Alfred had been calling every other day, pressuring Percy into a family dinner that Percy was able to escape honestly due to the fact that he had a shit ton of work to get done. He figured he had a week of using that after his workload settled before Alfred started getting more intense with his demands to see Percy again.

There was also the fact that Tim, Stephanie, Duke, and Cass went looking for him when he was out grocery shopping. Percy wasn’t entirely certain if they were there on Bruce’s orders or if they came out of their own desire, but either way, it wasn’t a good omen for the rest of the city’s vigilantes finding him. Percy only had yet to see three Waynes since he came back - Bruce, obviously; Damian, the newest Robin and the only one biologically related to Bruce; and Dick, who Percy knew was in Bludhaven. Whether or not he heard that Percy was back and was making the drive to Gotham had yet to be seen.

On the other hand, Gotham was home. Maybe the Manor wasn’t anymore, but Percy spent so many nights running around in his bright blue vigilante suit with Jason and Bruce that the streets were as familiar to him as Camp Half-Blood was.

Percy missed Gotham more than he would admit out loud. He missed the grit that the city had, missed the way that the clouds always lurked overhead and the way that every brick was harsh and unforgiving. It was so different from how the many cabins shone in the sunlight at Camp Half-Blood, and how everyone smiled at each other, united by the hints of golden ichor in their veins.

But Percy would be stupid to not admit that the thing he missed most about Gotham was Jason, and being in Gotham dredged up all those old feelings from when he died.

Over the past few years, Jason’s death went from a burning, bleeding cavern in his chest to a dull bruise that hurt whenever Percy thought of him. Being in Gotham made him think of Jason often.

While walking Lea, Percy happened to go by the old smoothie place near Gotham Academy that Jason would take him to after school. They would walk straight there once class was over, but only on the days where one of them had a test or big project in school that day.

There was one time when Percy had finished a history project - a collage of pictures and blocks of text, with cut-out bubble letters for the title on the top messily glued onto poster paper bigger than he could hold at the time - and Jason took him for smoothies the day he handed it in. They sat on the bench outside of the store as they waited for Alfred to pick them up, and Percy went on and on about how he was so sure that he would get a hundred percent after he spent so long working on it.

He didn’t remember what he got on that project, or what the collage was even about, but he remembered swinging his feet as he sat next to Jason, slurping on a spirulina-blue smoothie.

Percy just stood outside the smoothie place for a few seconds, lost in memories, until Lea yanked on her leash and sent him stumbling after her, pulling him out of his musings. He shook his head and continued walking her.

“Excuse me,” said a young boy, only tall enough for his eyebrows to reach Percy’s elbows. He had a weirdly stoic expression for someone who still had a baby face as he looked at Percy judgingly.

“Shouldn’t you be in school, Damian? I thought today was a Monday,” Percy said, eyeing the Gotham Academy uniform.

Just like with Tim and Duke, Damian stumbled when he learned that Percy recognized him, albeit a touch more obviously; he probably didn’t have the same experience with espionage that the older boys did, or at least not the same talent for bold-faced lies.

It wasn’t just the fact that Percy recognized them that threw each of them off. If anything, they probably anticipated that Percy would do so, because they were all trained by the same paranoid nutcase. The thing that was most surprising to them was probably the fact that Percy didn’t play along. He didn’t pretend to not know what he didn’t.

“I do not need to waste my time learning inept and tedious trivia with the imbeciles I am supposed to call my peers,” Damian said, quickly recovering from his shock.

“You’re weapon’s sticking out by the way,” Percy commented offhandedly.

Damian’s hand twitched towards his hip before he realized that Percy was tricking him, giving a withering glare that made Percy bite the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling. He had no idea if Damian was armed or not - he just guessed because there was no way the kid was dumb enough to go after a variable like him without some way to defend himself if necessary. Now Percy knew exactly where his weapon was, or at least where his preferred one was.

“What kind is it?” Percy asked, aiming for friendly and not quite certain of if he succeeded.

“Tch. I have greater things to do than speak with you. Such as petting your dog,” Damian said.

Aw, he was making it a statement and a question at once. Percy was vaguely reminded of Nico, and was suddenly gripped with the need to see him and Damian interact eventually.

“If she approves, then you can go ahead. But she makes her own opinions,” Percy warned before letting him approach.

Damian walked towards her slowly, one hand outstretched with his palm up. Lea sniffed him a few times, before licking his hand like it was a lollipop while wagging her tail.

“She likes me,” Damian said, pleased. It was clear that he was trying to look dignified, but it fell short and landed right in looking cute.

“I guess she does. You can pet her now, if you’d like,” Percy said, somewhat surprised. He assumed that Lea was going to be a lot more growly about the kid, since Damian definitely knew at least ten ways to take down a group of twenty grown men by himself.

“Does she have a name?” Damian asked, smiling softly as he ran his hand over her fur.

“Mrs. O’Leary. I call her Lea for short,” Percy said.

“Your ability to name a dog is abysmal at best,” Damian said, scratching her behind the ears and making her tail wag even more furiously.

“In my defence, I wasn’t the one who named her. Me and a couple of my friends just took her in when her last owner died,” Percy said, amused.

“She is an English mastiff, is she not? I’ve never seen one with such a dark coat,” Damian said.

Percy briefly wondered what would happen if he explained that the reason her fur was so dark was because she actively sucked the light out of everything around her like a fluffy black hole. Damian probably wouldn’t believe him - the Mist most likely made Lea’s more magical appearance seem just a little bit out of the ordinary.

“You certainly know your dog breeds,” Percy said.

“Of course I do. I’m not a fool,” Damian said, simultaneously glaring at Percy while preening from the compliment.

“If you’re not a fool, then why are you ditching class?” Percy asked, smirking when Damian scowled at him.

“Must I explain this to you twice? I already am capable of the curriculum, and my so-called classmates fail to bring the social enrichment that Father insists upon me receiving,” Damian said, sneering.

“Oh, Bruce insists upon it, does it? Well, then I guess it would be a shame if I were to call him and tell him you were on the other side of town instead of at school stalking me,” Percy said.

“You and Father don’t talk anymore,” Damian said, calling his bluff.

“But I do talk to Alfred,” Percy countered.

Damian narrowed his eyes at Percy. “I will be back in my classroom before he can arrive.”

“Lea will catch you. She’s faster than she looks,” Percy said, pointing at the hellhound as she enjoyed more head pats from Damian. “Unless you give me a reason not to send her after you.

“What do you want?” Damian snapped, glaring with all his might but only succeeding in looking even more like Nico when he was younger.

“Well, for starters I’d like to know why you’re here. Did Bruce send you?” Percy asked.

“Of course not. Father refuses to mention you unless Alfred brings it up, and even then he hardly speaks your name,” Damian said, rolling his eyes like it was obvious.

“Did Bruce send Tim, Duke, Stephanie, and Cass after me yesterday?” Percy asked.

“I doubt it,” Damian replied.

Percy felt himself blink, momentarily thrown even if he didn’t show it.

“Alright then. Would you like a job?” Percy asked finally.

“Pardon?” Damian asked.

“A job. Do you want one?” Percy repeated.

“I have no need for your money,” Damian said, disgusted. He totally would have looked down his nose at Percy if he wasn’t way shorter.

“Yeah, no shit. You’re dad’s a billionaire, of course you don’t need me for cash. I’m asking if you want a side hustle,” Percy said.

“Why?” Damian asked, suspicious.

“Because Lea likes you, and you like Lea. If you want some money to walk her every now and again, then it’s yours,” Percy explained.

“You brought a pet to Gotham without being capable of caring for her?” Damian demanded, looking ready to pull out whatever weapon was at his hip and attack.

“I’m not saying I can’t look after her, I’m saying you can. If you don’t want the job, then just don’t take it. The only thing I have to gain is some more free time,” Percy said, shrugging.

“I see,” Damian said, calming down significantly. “We will need to discuss the specifics of such a job, such as how much you will pay me, how often I will walk Lea, and the area and duration of each walk.”

Percy smiled; that was practically a confirmation that he had a new dog walker. “You want to talk things out as I finish up her walk for today?”

“I would. I also think it would be beneficial to exchange contact information in order to coordinate Lea’s walks the day that they occur,” Damian said.

“I’m honoured,” Percy teased.

Damian rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond as he stuck his hand out in a silent demand for Percy’s phone. Percy just raised a brow at him, silently asking if Damian thought that he was truly so stupid as to hand his phone over to someone who could so easily place a tracker or who-knows-what in it. Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes once more before pulling out a pen and paper and writing his number down. Percy pocketed the paper to put into his phone later.

“What time do you have to be back in school?” Percy asked.

“Ideally, never,” Damian replied without missing a beat, and Percy couldn’t help but chuckle. “But I suppose since I am currently only missing music class, Father would be less disappointed to hear that I returned in time for math in an hour.”

“Do you need me to drop you at school?” Percy offered.

“That won’t be necessary. I will continue on yours and Lea’s walk for the next twenty minutes before returning with ample time,” Damian said.

“How old are you, anyway? You can’t be much older than ten if you’re still in music class,” Percy said.

“Old enough to not be treated like an infant, I assure you,” Damian said, beginning to get prickly again.

“So I should treat you like a seventy-year-old man? Okay, then,” Percy said, ignoring Damian’s glare as he continued forwards.

Damian walked right beside Lea, occasionally giving her head pats as they walked in silence. When it was time for Damian to go back to school, Lea gave him goodbye licks and Damian hugged her like she was his best friend, not even caring about the way so much of her fur clung to his uniform to the point that it made the colour of his blazer darker.

“I will see you as soon as you fold and come to the Manor for family dinner,” Damian said in farewell.

“Later,” Percy said, waving goodbye. “Try to brag to everyone else about how we got to hang out with Lea today, would you?”

“Oh, I intend to. Richard especially will be devastated,” Damian said, grinning at Percy with adorable ferocity before walking away.

Percy felt his smile drop. “Wait, Richard? Do you mean Dick? Damian, you can’t tell Dick. Wait, Damian! Damian!”

—

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, New Jersey
2003

Percy’s heart was thumping so hard in his chest it felt like he was going to start an earthquake.

Tomorrow was his introduction to the world as Percy Jackson, ward of Bruce Wayne. And, in what was apparently typical Wayne fashion, the world was going to meet him through a fancy gala. For months now, Bruce had been training Percy to look media-perfect. Percy had gotten good at smiling as soon as he noticed someone enter the room, making that smile practiced but not forced, and speaking to all the rich people that attended Bruce’s parties, on top of a bunch of other things.

If Percy had realized that once he learned how to do those he would be up in front of a bunch of cameras and guests, then he would have chosen to flunk Gala Propriety 101 class. That way he wouldn’t have to get dressed up and paraded around a bunch of people that Bruce only pretended to like tomorrow.

Jason wasn’t excited about having to go to the gala either, so they teamed up to try and use the power of puppy dog eyes on Bruce to convince him to cancel. Bruce was so close to being swayed when Alfred gave him a look from the other side of the room, making them all have to act like bacteria under a microscope for a whole evening.

But having to go to the gala itself wasn’t the worst part. Tomorrow was the party, smiling for hours on end and playing up the grateful little orphan that was taken in by the generous billionaire. Today? Today Percy was meeting Bruce’s first kid, Dick Grayson, who would be staying the night at Wayne Manor before going to the gala with them tomorrow.

According to Bruce, Dick Grayson was “a capable vigilante”, which only told Percy that he could get his butt kicked if he pissed the guy off. Alfred called him a “fine young man” who was “very much like Master Bruce”, which was ominous considering he didn’t clarify if he was like Bruce in a good way or a bad way.

Jason was the only one who was any help when it came to giving Percy an idea of what Dick was like. He was the first Robin, and people used to call him and B the ‘Golden Duo’ when they patrolled together. All that was before he and Bruce started fighting, and now Dick lived in Bludhaven the next town over as the vigilante Nightwing, and Jason took Dick’s spot as Robin.

Jason didn’t say specifically, but Percy could tell that Dick wasn’t exactly happy to meet Jason. It wasn’t too hard to imagine why - having your suit and identity passed down to some kid you’ve never met probably wasn’t fun, but the idea of Dick hating Jason was enough to make Percy hate Dick.

Percy was also going to meet Batgirl for the first time. He was kind of shocked that they hadn’t met earlier, considering how much time they both spent in the cave, but Barbara Gordon was also a full-time college student with a part-time job and did vigilante work, so it made sense that she wasn’t always around. She was also Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, a name that Percy was familiar with even if he hadn’t met the man himself just because the Commissioner handled almost all of the work the police did with Batman.

Dick and Barbara were going to show up at the same time today. Bruce said that it would be simple; just meeting them and getting ready for the gala tomorrow. That didn’t stop Percy from fidgeting nervously, however.

Percy and Jason were sitting in one of the Manor’s many living rooms, each of them splayed out across a couch for their own. While Jason was relaxed, leisurely reading from a thick book with slightly yellowed pages, Percy’s leg was bouncing up and down like a wind-up toy as he listened to one of the cases Bruce gave him through his headphones.

“Hey, Percy,” Jason said, sliding a bookmark between the pages of his book and waiting until Percy took off his headphones to continue. “What are you so nervous about?”

“The gala tomorrow,” Percy said, mostly honest.

Having to go to the gala was freaking him out. But it was more that everything had just been Jason, Bruce, Alfred, and him for almost all of his time in Gotham. Now Dick and Barbara were going to be there, which made Percy feel like he was walking on slanted ground. Everything went suddenly lopsided, and he didn’t know how to predict how everything would change with two new people around, even if it was just for a few days.

“To be completely frank, galas absolutely suck. My introduction gala was a nightmare. But Bruce and Dick were there to help me, and this time I’ll be there to help you,” Jason said assuringly.

“Okay,” Percy said, going over to plaster himself to Jason’s side like he could absorb Jason’s courage through his skin. He relaxed as soon as he settled leaning against Jason, and Jason leaned right back on Percy.

At that moment, Bruce walked in. He took one look at Percy sitting glued to Jason like a barnacle on a ship, and smiled at Percy. “Worried?”

“Nope. I’m super chill. Just going to have to spend almost all of tomorrow like a show pony. No biggie,” Percy said.

“It’s just four hours. I have both of you on a strict ten-thirty bedtime, so you can make your escape before Dick and I do,” Bruce said.

“ ‘Just four hours’, he says, completely unaware that four hours is a crazy long time,” Percy snarked.

“I know right? Galas are the worst,” Jason agreed.

“How about this?” Bruce asked. “If you stay for the whole time and don’t pull any tricks on the guests, we can design your vigilante suit tomorrow.”

Percy perked up, staring at Bruce with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Really. I already have some ideas we can add in, and once you finish your training, I’ll make it for you to wear,” Bruce said.

Percy bolted away from Jason and jumped onto Bruce, latching onto him a few feet up in the air like a koala.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Percy said, squeezing Bruce as tight as he could.

“Of course, cuddlebird,” Bruce said, running his hand over Percy’s hair. Percy was still wrapped around Bruce’s midsection, using nothing but the muscles Bruce trained into him to hold himself up. He knew that Bruce made sure he had a lot of strength everywhere to fight well and run fast and whatever, but it was also fun to do things like give Bruce koala hugs.

“Cuddlebird?” Percy asked, staring up at Bruce confusedly.

“Suits you well enough, doesn’t it?” Bruce said, laughing.

Just then, the doors to the Manor opened, and three voices could be heard. It was Alfred, greeting Dick and Barbara. There was subtle laughter heard through the walls, and Percy tensed before he realized that Bruce could feel it and relaxed again.

Bruce comfortingly rubbed his hand up and down Percy’s back before peeling Percy off of him and going to the entrance hall. Percy followed just a bit behind him, equal parts nervous and curious.

“Hey, B,” Dick said, giving Bruce a slightly-strained smile.

“Dick,” Bruce replied. “How’s Bludhaven been treating you?”

“It’s been good - I really like it there. But it’s still nice to be back in Gotham for a bit,” Dick replied. There was something about the way that he said how much he liked Bludhaven that felt a bit too pointed to be normal, like he was already defending himself in a fight that hadn’t even started.

“Wayne Manor and this city will always be your home, Master Dick,” Alfred said as he hung up Dick’s and Barbara’s coats.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dick said. His eyes then fell to Percy, and his expression changed in a way that Percy couldn’t read. “You must be the new kid. Perseus, right?”

“I go by Percy,” he corrected.

“Percy, then. I’m Dick Grayson,” Dick said, sticking his hand out for Percy to shake.

“I know,” Percy replied, hesitantly shaking Dick’s hand.

Barbara chose that moment to chime in, shaking Percy’s hand too. “I’m Barbara. You can call me Babs, if you’d like. It’s nice to meet you, Percy.”

“Nice to meet you too, Babs,” Percy said, easily polite.

“Are you named after Perseus from the Greek myth? If you don’t mind me asking, of course,” Barbara said.

Percy blinked, surprised, before giving her a more genuine smile. “Yeah, I am.”

“I used to love Greek mythology. I had a huge book on it when I was a kid, and I’d read it all the time. Some of the pictures of the monsters would give me nightmares,” Barbara said.

“I used to get scared of them too. Do you have a favourite monster?” Percy asked.

“If I had to pick one, I’d probably say the Hydra. What about you?” Barbara asked.

“Medusa, obviously,” Percy said, looking at Babs like she was crazy for not having assumed. His name was literally Perseus.

“I really should have guessed that,” Barbara said, chuckling.

“You should have,” Percy agreed matter-of-factly. “Aren’t you supposed to be super smart or something?”

“You’ve heard that I’m smart? Was it Bruce or Jason that told you that?” Barbara asked, looking thrilled.

“That…feels like a trick question,” Percy said, hesitantly.

“Smart kid,” Dick quipped, and Barbara lightly smacked his arm.

“I believe it is just about time for lunch. Would you two care to join us?” Alfred asked, effectively herding them all into the dining room for sandwiches.

They all sat down, and lunch was mostly spent with Bruce and Dick arguing - oh, sorry, Percy meant that they were having a serious discussion. That also included insulting each other in a perfectly pleasant tone of voice. If Percy had to guess, it was because he was there, and they probably didn’t want to yell in front of the nine-year-old.

“You know, Percy, if you really like Greek mythology, I can read you some books about it,” Jason offered.

“Really? Like the Odyssey or something?” Percy asked, feeling excitement rise in his chest. He knew the Odyssey almost as well as he knew the story of Perseus; Mom bought him a copy of the graphic novel last year for his birthday. It would be nice to hear how Jason made the words come to life the way he always did when reading Percy stories.

“Well, we’d have to start with the Iliad since I’d rather read it to you in chronological order, but yeah. We do those after we finish with Animal Farm,” Jason said.

Barbara snorted her water out of her nose. “You’re reading him Animal Farm?” she asked, laughing and coughing.

“I...yeah? Is that weird?” Percy asked. It seemed like a perfectly normal book to him, even if it was kind of confusing at times.

“The only reason why I’ve read Animal Farm was because of an English paper I had to write a while ago. You both are kids,” Babs explained.

“Ugh, don’t give me a lecture about the appropriate things to read to a kid. You’ll start sounding like Bruce,” Jason groaned.

“Well, in that case I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Babs said with a grin.

“What do you mean when you say that Jason reads the books to you?” Dick asked Percy.

“He just reads them to me. Like, he reads the book out loud and I listen since I can’t really read them myself,” Percy explained, confused as to what exactly Dick was asking him.

“You can’t?” Dick asked.

Percy felt his heart spike with fear. Dick didn’t know. He was going to get made fun of again, like all the times in class where he wasn’t able to read the passage out loud and all the times he had to spend recess with the teacher getting more and more frustrated as Percy struggled to read sentences that the rest of his classmates could get through easily.

“Nah. I’m illiterate,” Percy said casually, taking a very careful bite of his sandwich.

Barbara and Jason both went tense and stared at Percy with confused eyes, while Bruce frowned at him.

“You want to try that again, Percy?” Bruce asked.

“I’m dyslexic, so I can kinda read, but not accurately or fast. So, I’m basically illiterate,” Percy said, each word drenched heavily in acid while he rolled his eyes.

“Try that again but without the sarcasm,” Bruce said.

Percy sighed, feeling his cheeks go hot with shame as he clenched his hands into fists. “I have severe dyslexia, so I have problems with reading, writing, and spelling. When I look at a sentence, it’s like the words and letters are doing their best impression of hockey players skating around on a rink, so it’s impossible to keep track of it all. Since it takes me forever to read, and it isn’t very fun for me, Jason reads me books sometimes.”

“Better,” Bruce said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, or make you feel bad,” Dick said, looking truly regretful.

“It’s fine,” Percy said, shrugging. And it was fine. Dick wasn’t going to be the meanest person in the world about the fact that Percy was dyslexic - that honour would always go to the many teachers he had and to Gabe. Percy didn’t think Dick could ever top Gabe in terms of making him feel stupid.

“It’s not fine. I shouldn’t have made a big deal about all that. A bunch of my friends and colleagues have brain disabilities and disorders. I should know better than to make someone feel bad for them,” Dick insisted.

“That’s why B built an audio function for the Batcomputer,” Barbara explained.

From there, the conversation switched again, finishing lunch and then all heading to get some things done. Dick was going to go to Barbara’s place to hang out, and Bruce had some Wayne Enterprises work to do, which left Jason and Percy with the Manor mostly to themselves. Percy was about to go find wherever he left his headphones and continue listening to the police report for the case he was working on when Jason stopped him.

“I have an idea,” Jason said, grabbing Percy’s wrist and practically pulling him to the front entrance of the Manor where everyone’s shoes were lined up. “Stay here,” Jason told him, before racing upstairs. A few minutes later, he came back with a spray can of shaving cream, shaking it vigorously.

“What are you doing?” Percy asked.

“Putting shaving cream in Dick’s shoes,” Jason replied.

“Why?” Percy asked.

“Because he really lived up to his name and was a dick to you just now,” Jason said as he filled one of Dick’s shoes with fluffy shaving foam.

“Because of the dyslexia thing? It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Percy said.

“Not just that. You probably didn’t notice because he only did it when you weren’t looking, but he kept on giving B these looks that were all ‘you really picked up another orphan?’ and stuff,” Jason explained as he examined both shaving cream-filled shoes, nodding with satisfaction.

“So that means he deserves shaving cream shoes? Ooh, shoe-ving cream!” Percy said, getting sidetracked part way through his sentence.

Jason snorted. “Dick absolutely deserves shoe-ving cream. Or at least this gives me an excuse to do it to him without getting into too much trouble, since I was planning on doing it anyway. Just let me have this, okay? Speaking of which, I need you to lie for me if anyone asks about the shoes and say that I was in the living room with you.”

“Okay,” Percy said easily, because obviously he was going to cover for Jason, what the hell else would he do? “But I thought Bruce said no tricks.”

“Bruce said no tricks on the guests. And it’s like Alfred said, the Manor is Dick’s home. So he’s not a guest, and therefore is fair game,” Jason said with a mischievous smile, heading upstairs while Percy followed.

“Doesn’t he have other shoes, though? This won’t really do anything other than inconvenience him,” Percy said.

“Yeah, but I’ll get into actual trouble if I put shaving foam in all his shoes. Then he would get way more mad,” Jason said.

“Then put little cotton balls in his shoes so that they don’t fit right,” Percy suggested.

Jason suddenly stopped, looking at Percy with pride. “Have I ever told you how much I love you, Perce?”

Percy stared, feeling his eyes get watery. He knew he loved Jason, and had for weeks by that point, but it was different to say it out loud. When he first realized that he saw Jason as his older brother, he felt so angry at himself for betraying his mom by getting a new family. It took him days to finally be okay with it and not feel guilty, and Jason just told Percy that he loved him so casually.

“I love you too, Jay,” Percy said, hugging Jason tightly and burying his face in Jason’s chest. Jason hugged him back, and when he finally pulled away, his shirt was a little bit wet from Percy’s tears.

Chapter Text

Melville Section
Bludhaven, New Jersey
2010

To say that Dick was shocked when he saw Damian was calling him was an understatement. Dick usually had to be the one to initiate any kind of interaction that wasn’t vigilante-related, and even then getting Damian to talk was harder than pulling teeth.

So when Damian called him in the middle of the afternoon, not too long after when his school would have let out, Dick might have panicked.

Only slightly.

Okay, fine, he leaped over his couch to reach his phone from where it was resting on the coffee table, and quickly picked up the call.

“Damian, are you alright? Is anyone hurt?” Dick asked immediately.

“Everything is fine, Richard. Have you not consistently bemoaned the fact that I do not initiate social contact?” Damian asked, the playful scowl audible in his phone-tinny voice.

Dick gasped, resisting the urge to squeal and risk his little brother hanging up on him. “Damian, are you giving me a social call right now?”

“In a manner, I suppose,” Damian said. “Though I do have a specific piece of information I find it prudent to share.”

“Oh my god, something special happened in your life and you wanted to share it with your big brother!” Dick said. He ended up squealing anyways, but he didn’t care, because Damian choosing to call and talk about his life was progress!

“Restrain yourself before I decide to inform Jason of these developments instead,” Damian threatened, and Dick let out a scandalized noise.

“There is no way on Earth or any other planet that I am about to let you tell Jason about new developments in your life before you tell me. Now, spill! Do you need advice? A hug? A high-five?” Dick asked.

“Nothing so plebeian, I guarantee you. In fact, I called you to boast,” Damian said, smugness spilling into his voice.

“Oooh, what happened? Tell me everything,” Dick said, bordering on a whine.

“I spoke with Perseus today,” Damian said.

Dick felt his heart stop for a split second. “What?”

“Perseus, the third stray that Father took in. I spoke with him earlier today, and we exchanged contact information. We will see each other regularly going forwards,” Damian elaborated.

“Wh - How would you have even met Percy?” Dick asked.

“He was simply walking around the Narrows, Richard,” Damian said, like Dick was an idiot.

“Since when was Percy in the Narrows?” Dick asked.

“Since he moved to Gotham,” Damian replied.

“Percy moved to Gotham?” Dick asked, bewildered. Percy very deliberately ran away from the city, and made it pretty clear that he didn’t want to be contacted while he was at it.

“Yes, Richard. Has your hearing been damaged?” Damian asked, voice softly mocking but Dick knew that Damian would only ask if he was worried about him.

“No, no, I’m fine. It’s just that I’m…surprised to hear that he’s back,” Dick said. “How long has he been in Gotham?”

“A few days ago.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Apparently Alfred told you that he wished to speak in person, and you refused his summons.”

Dick made an incoherent and frustrated sound. “If I’d known that Alfred wanted to talk because Percy was here, I would have shown up.”

“That seems to be entirely your fault,” Damian said boredly.

“I have things to do in Bludhaven, you know. I can’t just pause my day and night jobs at the drop of a hat just because Alfred says so,” Dick pointed out.

“And now I am much closer to Perseus than you are as a result,” Damian bragged.

“Why did Percy move to Gotham?” Dick demanded, already packing his clothes, Nightwing suit, and weapons. He haphazardly shoving them into a duffel bag that was stained with dried blood and some other unspecified substances.

“If Alfred is to be believed, then it is for business. What that business is, I am not certain, but it is enough to keep him in the city for the next year, should the records of his apartment lease be accurate,” Damian said.

“Thank you, Dami. I guess I’m driving to Gotham today. Do you want me to bring you anything on my way?” Dick asked, zipping his bag shut and going to his car.

“I am fine. Thank you, Richard,” Damian said.

“I’ll be at the Manor in an hour or two. Bye,” Dick said before hanging up. He texted his boss to say that he would be using his time off and wouldn’t make it to work tomorrow and got into his car.

For the entire drive, his mind spun. Percy hated Gotham. Why would he have chosen to come back? What sort of job did Percy have that would require him to move to Gotham? Oh god, Percy was doing crime now, wasn’t he? He did the same thing as Jason and decided to become a crime boss and now Percy’s gang was going to be in Gotham. Percy’s gang was going to fight Jason’s gang, and Dick and the rest of the family would have to try and intervene. That was going to make the holiday season even more awkward now.

Dick parked his car in the Manor’s garage, walking in to find Alfred already waiting for him.

“I see you finally arrived, Master Dick,” Alfred said mildly.

“You could have told me that Percy was back,” Dick said, barely holding back his anger.

“And you could have returned when I suggested you did,” Alfred shot back without hesitation.

Dick huffed, but didn’t say anything, instead choosing to go say hi to everyone at the Manor. He went straight to Damian’s room and (after greeting him with a rib-cracking hug that Damian tried to bite his way out of like always) interrogated him for more information about what the hell Percy was doing in Gotham. Apparently, Damian now had a side gig of walking Percy’s dog.

After Damian, Dick found Tim holed up in his room with his eyes practically glued to his computer screen. Dick didn’t even bother saying hello in favour of simply snatching the computer away from Tim and dragging him into the kitchen for some water and real food. He got a more polite welcome from Cass and Duke, which was nice.

It was hours later, more towards dinnertime, when Dick finally saw Bruce. At first, he didn’t get angry. Dick had a lot of anger always ready at the backburner when he needed it, but he didn’t want to start that evening with a fight. So he made his usual pleasantries, making small talk as the family sat down to eat chicken pot pie. There was a soft tension in the air, since everyone knew exactly what had brought him out of Bludhaven. No one mentioned it until Damian, sick of the way they all danced around the subject, set down his fork with a frustrated huff.

“Can we please address the fact that Richard is obviously here because of Perseus?” Damian asked, irritated.

Just like that, the game of them all pretending like everything was normal shattered like the icicles hanging off a car’s bumper as soon as you started to drive. Everyone was silent for a moment, and eventually the silence grew so heavy that Dick decided to speak up.

“You’re right, Dami. I’m going to be in town for the next few days to spend some time with Percy,” Dick said diplomatically.

"Really? I didn’t know you guys were on talking terms,” Tim said, skeptical.

“We aren’t,” Dick said with a chuckle that was only slightly awkward. “But Percy’s family, and I haven’t seen him in months. In fact, why don’t we make it a family outing? We can all drop by his place with food and hang out there, or invite him somewhere?”

“I am amenable, though I have patrol today and would not be able to have a social visit,” Damian said. Dick beamed at him, because Damian actually wanted to be around someone!

“I don’t think that would be a good idea considering how Percy seems to hate Tim and I. He likes Cass well enough, though,” Duke said.

Dick narrowed his eyes. “Why does Percy hate you two?”

“Unimportant. But tell Percy I said hey,” Tim chirped unconvincingly.

“Alright then. Cass?” Dick asked, turning to her.

“Stupid history presentation tomorrow,” Cass signed as she shook her head, scowling slightly.

“No worries. Good luck on your presentation,” Dick said.

“Thank you,” Cass replied softly.

“I guess it’s just you and me, huh, B?” Dick asked, facing Bruce.

Bruce’s face was stoically blank, with the only indication of emotion being the way his eyes focussed on Dick and the way his jaw was the just the slightest bit more tense than normal.

“I am also on patrol tonight,” Bruce said after a moment.

“He hasn’t gone to see Percy. I think the last time they spoke was the last time you and Percy did,” Tim said, almost like an explanation.

“Pardon?” Dick asked, even though he heard Tim perfectly well.

“I have greater priorities,” Bruce said, voice beginning to lower into Batman’s growl.

“Greater priorities than your son? He’s been here for days and you haven’t even bothered to see him,” Dick said, scowling.

Bruce said nothing, and Dick scoffed. Of course. He was probably waiting for Dick to show up and mop up this mess. And the shitty part was that Dick would. He would grab each person in this family and hold them together while they ran in the opposite direction from each other even if it tore his arms from his sockets.

Dick went into the Batcave through the clock in the study and settled down at the Batcomputer, finding Percy’s exact apartment and his most recent locations within a few minutes.

When it was finally dark out, Dick put his domino mask on, turning into Nightwing and setting out to go find his brother. He would fix all this, and he refused to tell Percy that Bruce didn’t want to see him after he came back, because they were a family god damn it.

“I’ve got the Narrows tonight,” Nightwing said to Batman and Robin, who were already getting into the Batmobile for patrol.

Robin nodded, while Batman didn’t deign to respond.

Nightwing took off into the twilit city, swinging and flipping between buildings as he got closer to Percy’s apartment. He didn’t need to go fast - he was still on patrol, after all, and the job was never done. Crime never stopped to breathe, never slept, never wavered, and neither did the Bats.

“Would’ve appreciated more of a heads-up before finding out that I had to work you into my schedule,” a voice in his comms muttered as he delivered a roundhouse kick to an attempted mugger’s ribs.

“Good to hear you too, Oracle,” Nightwing replied.

“You got a drug deal two blocks east,” Oracle said.

“Thanks,” Nightwing said, before grappling to the roof above to get there quicker. He took the baggie of drugs and dealt with the situation with his usual flourish. “By the way, did you know Baby Blue was in town?”

“I did. Batman made it clear no one was to interact with him,” Oracle said hesitantly, her voice a tangled mess of conflicted emotion.

“Screw that. I’m heading to his place right now, if there isn’t any more crime to handle on the way,” Nightwing said, already running across the rooftops.

“Another mugger outside of his apartment complex, and that’s all,” Oracle said.

“Easy,” Nightwing laughed just as he dropped down on the mugger from above, doing a backflip as he kicked the man in the head. Nightwing roughed him up only a little, returning the stolen belongings to the woman he took them from before gracefully leaping up to Percy’s tiny balcony.

He was surprised to see that the lights inside the apartment were all off, and the balcony door was thankfully locked. He knocked twice on the bar-reinforced windows, to no response.

“It’s empty. Do you know where he could be?” Nightwing asked.

The sound of Oracle rapidly typing away filled his comms. “There’s no sign of him leaving the building through any of the entrances, but he was spotted outside of another apartment building in Crime Alley.”

“What do you mean ‘no sign of him leaving’?” Nightwing asked.

“He must have scouted the building for blind spots in the cameras and used those,” Oracle responded, sounding frustrated.

It took Nightwing about fifteen minutes to get from the Narrows to Crime Alley via swinging and running, and another two minutes to get to Percy’s exact building.

“Any idea which room he’s in, O?” Nightwing asked.

“No. He must’ve planned this out weeks in advance if he’s able to avoid all cameras so well,” Oracle huffed. “I have to help out B and Robin in a few, will you be fine if I go silent so I can focus on them?”

“No worries,” Nightwing said easily. It gave him a chance to stretch his legs, at the very least.

He started by circling the outside, not going in the building unless necessary. Nightwing peered through each window, scanning for anything that resembled Percy or even would garner his attention. It was on the second floor of the west side of the building that Nightwing saw it.

A little girl, maybe ten or so, with a scared look on her face and tears running down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes before going to sit on what looked like a three, maybe four feet tall black dog. She adjusted the straps on her Batman-themed backpack as she waved goodbye to someone Nightwing couldn’t see from outside the window.

Then, the dog popped out of the room, disappearing without a trace and taking the girl with it.

Nightwing cursed colourfully under his breath. It was a child trafficking ring, run by magic-wielders or metahumans.

Nightwing spoke quietly into his comms, careful not to alert the other people in the apartment that he was there. “Oracle, I just witnessed a child kidnapping assisted by meta or magical intervention. I’m entering the building immediately. Send backup.”

He then dove through the window and found two other people inside the apartment, a teenaged and adult male.

“Where did you take the girl?” Nightwing demanded, escrima sticks in hand and ready.

The two kidnappers looked at him, and when the teenager made eye contact with Nightwing, both stumbled slightly in surprise.

It was Percy. Percy had just stolen a child with a magical dog. Oh fuck, he really was a crime boss now, except he had none of Jason’s ethical standards around crime. And the dog that Percy just used for kidnapping was totally the same dog that Damian was now paid to walk. Was Percy going to use the dog to kidnap Damian?

“Nightwing,” Percy said, just as surprised as Nightwing himself was. “I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”

“You wanna tell me how I misunderstood you sending away a visibly distressed child on a teleporting dog?” Nightwing asked, bracing himself for a fight much more difficult than he initially anticipated.

“She left her home willingly, and with parental permission at that,” Percy explained, gesturing to the man beside him. He must have been the girl’s father.

“Then would you care to justify the use of magic in Gotham, something which is very specifically banned without Batman’s permission?” Nightwing asked.

“Batman can go fuck himself,” the girl’s father snapped, crossing his arms in a way that pulled up his sleeve just enough to show the Red Hood tattoo on his wrist. He was one of Jason’s goons, then. “He prances around this city thinking he has the right to enact justice, but he doesn’t even have the guts to finish off a madman. What I do with my own daughter is none of his business. And it ain’t yours either.”

“So you chose to give her away?” Nightwing asked the little girl’s dad, some of his anger melting into true confusion.

“RR will be arriving at your location in a few seconds,” Oracle said in his ear.

“He chose to give her a better life. The girl is meta, Nightwing. The place she’s at now has the best resources available to help her. Would you truly begrudge a father for sending his daughter somewhere she could be safe and with her community?” Percy implored, staring into Nightwing’s eyes.

“If she were meta, Batman would know about her,” Nightwing refuted.

Percy looked like he was holding back an eyeroll. “Batman doesn’t know about these specific metas. And if he did know about it, he certainly wasn’t doing anything to help her or any of the others like her get to a safe camp.”

“A ‘safe camp’?” Nightwing asked, eyes narrowed.

“It’s a facility that specializes in protecting children just like the girl you saw,” Percy said.

Suddenly, another person dropped in through the window. Nightwing quickly glanced to the side and found Red Robin, twirling his bo staff as he looked at Percy with what must have been fascination behind his mask-covered eyes.

“Sup. I heard something about a meta facility?” Red Robin said as he arrived.

“Am I going to have to repeat myself a dozen times while I wait for all of you guys to get here?” Percy muttered, sounding frustrated.

“Nah. I was the only one sent, but if you’d like I can get some more of us,” Red Robin offered.

“I would rather lick a cheese grater like a popsicle than have to deal with more than two of you at once, actually,” Percy said.

“You do you, then. Now, care to continue?” Red Robin asked.

Percy sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before seeming to muster up the mental fortitude to reply. “How about this? I’ll tell you both enough to get you guys off my back without violating the privacy of anyone I’m dealing with, and you both will let me do my thing afterwards?”

“That depends on what it is you say,” Nightwing said.

“I can promise you that no one is getting hurt. In fact, that is exactly what I’m trying to prevent,” Percy said.

“An altruist, are you?” Red Robin drawled, amused.

“A decent person, more like,” Percy corrected.

“And if you’re lying?” Nightwing asked.

“I’m not a liar. My older brother can vouch for me, if you need a fucking reference letter,” Percy said, a complicated expression crossing his face before he looked at Nightwing with determination. “His name is Dick Grayson-Wayne. He lives in Bludhaven, and I’ve known him since I was nine. He knows me well enough to know that I would never hurt a kid on purpose, and he trusts me. You can contact him if you really need to.”

You trusted me once. Why won’t you do so now? Percy was saying, his words coded with the girl’s father right next to him.

Nightwing could feel the strings of his heart get tugged. He sheathed his escrima sticks, and let his posture go lax. Red Robin followed his lead and relaxed, though he kept his bo staff resting in his palm.

“Contacting him won’t be necessary. I’ll take your word for it,” Nightwing said.

“Thank you,” Percy said softly, the corner of his mouth almost reaching smile territory.

“Now then, tell us all it is you think we need to know so that we don’t have to throw you in jail for kidnapping,” Red Robin said, effectively making the situation all business.

“Okay. There’s a specific branch of metas that have an average lifespan of twelve, and the reason that’s the case is because of the fact that some monstrous fuckheads like to eat these kids. Something about the meta gene variant they have making them taste good? I don’t know enough about the science-y side of it, but that’s basically the gist. That girl and others like her get hunted like prey their whole lives until they either toughen up and die,” Percy explained.

Nightwing felt almost nauseous at the thought of little kids getting eaten for doing nothing but exist. He exhaled sharply through his nose and forced himself to focus.

“How did you even find out about this, then?” Nightwing asked.

“When I ran away from Gotham a few years back, I fell in with this crowd. They were kind enough to look after me, even though I’m not like them. Me and a couple of other non-metas have been placed all around the country looking for these kids so we can safely send them to the safe camp,” Percy said.

“So you came back to Gotham for this?” Red Robin asked, masking his skepticism.

“I did,” Percy said, shrugging. “Gotham is something of a hotspot for cases like this, what with the human trafficking and relatively regular kidnappings and whatnot. Since I’m the only person with any experience living in this city, I got sent here.”

“And the dog?” Nightwing asked.

“The girl could have gone to the safe camp by plane or car or whatever the hell else, but I have a teleporting dog, so why wouldn’t I do that instead?” Percy asked rhetorically.

“And how is it that a guy like you comes into the possession of a teleporting dog?” Red Robin pressed.

“Mrs. O’Leary - my dog - lost her last owner. I was just the one who took her in after that. And before you guys ask, she knows better than to teleport without my explicit permission unless it’s an absolute emergency,” Percy said casually, leaving a dozen more questions in his wake that Nightwing knew he wouldn’t answer.

“And you use this dog to shepherd the meta kids you're looking for to this safe point, for them to stay there for the rest of their lives?” Nightwing asked instead of asking how the hell anyone managed to get a dog to teleport - assuming the dog was from Earth, at least.

“That girl, and every other child I find, is more than capable of leaving if they wanted to, but doing so would risk them being hunted. But they can contact their families whenever they want, and can visit every now and again once they’ve been given enough training to learn how to fight off those who want them for brunch,” Percy said, a hint of tiredness and annoyance creeping into his voice. “Any more questions? I have a ton of stuff to get done tomorrow, so I’d like to go to sleep at a decent hour.”

“I’ll make this quick then,” Red Robin replied. “We’ll need the location of the safehouse you’re sending these kids to, and a list of the kids you’re tracking.”

“For starters, there are more than one safe camp in the country, and I’m not telling you where any of them are. And secondly, I’m not the one doing the tracking. I have a list of kids who could potentially have the gene, and that list is growing and shrinking every time I revise it because the criteria is flexible. No, I will not give you the criteria,” Percy explained, adding on that last sentence with a glare once he saw Red Robin open his mouth.

“You realize why we need that information, don’t you? We can’t just let kids get sent off, and while I’m willing to trust you, we are going to need to guarantee some of this stuff first hand,” Nightwing said, voice pacifying and diplomatic.

“And you realize why these secrets are so carefully guarded. The people who eat these kids don’t look that far out of the ordinary. They could be a teacher, a cheerleader, a cashier in a burger joint, a hotel owner, anyone. I understand that you have good intentions and just want everyone to be safe, I can’t risk telling anyone,” Percy said.

“I understand. Can we contact you later to ask more questions?” Nightwing asked after a moment, feeling his lips twist into a frown.

“Sure. But again, I only answer the questions I want to,” Percy said, and glanced meaningfully at Red Robin - something for Nightwing to ask about later.

“I guess that’s your prerogative," Red Robin said, looking mildly irked but not surprised.

“Welp, that feels like enough of that,” Percy said, before fixing a fake smile on his face and making his voice go sweeter than cotton candy. “This was a horrible conversation! Let’s never do this again!”

Percy then made a low whistling sound, and the dog popped back into the room. Percy immediately kneeled down beside her and started giving her scratches, cooing to her in an exaggerated baby voice as he complimented her on taking the girl to the safe camp so well. The dog’s tail started swishing hard enough that Nightwing could feel wind from the other side of the room the minute Percy pulled a dog treat out of his pocket, and she licked it up eagerly.

“Everything good?” Oracle asked.

“Yup. The situation’s been handled and everyone’s alright, more or less,” Nightwing replied.

Percy’s eyes flicked to him, knowing exactly who Nightwing was talking to, but he didn’t say anything, instead focusing on his dog. He pulled a leash out of his pocket and clipped it to the dog’s collar, nodding at the girl’s father before heading to the door.

“If that’s all, I’ll be heading out,” Percy said.

“Oh, wait,” Nightwing interrupted, making sure to get Percy’s attention. He gave his widest, slyest grin. “I’ll be in your apartment when you get there. Just figured I’d warn you, for courtesy’s sake.”

Percy’s face flickered from indignant rage to blank apathy to vainglorious amusement within a second. “Race ya,” he said, before patting his dog twice and vanishing.

“Oh, come on, Nightwing. You had to have guessed he was going to do that,” Red Robin said, cackling.

Nightwing didn’t bother responding to him, instead booking it out of Crime Alley in a hopeless attempt to make it to the Narrows before Percy and his damn teleporting dog could. By the time he fell through Percy’s window, panting and legs starting to burn, Percy and the dog were already inside. Percy was standing leisurely in his kitchen, steeping a bag of tea in a mug while Mrs. O’Leary chewed on a rubber dog toy next to the singular couch.

Percy just looked at Nightwing, eyebrow raised as he took in Nightwing’s far more exhausted state.

“You suck,” Nightwing said, pouting as he shut the window and closed all the blinds before taking off his mask and pulling his comms out of his ear, which Babs and Bruce would probably both yell at him for the next day.

“I suck? Your name is literally Dick,” Percy retorted without missing a beat.

“Oh, how clever. Never heard that line before,” Dick snorted.

“You're not sitting in my place in that dirty suit. I’ll get you some clothes,” Percy said, walking into what Dick assumed was the bedroom and throwing a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized t-shirt in Dick’s face.

Dick put the clothes on top of his Nightwing suit, a mild surprise washing over him as he realized that he and Percy were practically the same size. Sure, Percy had probably picked out some of his bigger clothes for him, but the last time they had truly talked, Percy had been sitting cross-legged on Jason’s grave with a thousand years worth of pain in his eyes. Now Percy had his own apartment, and a job that got him to take hunted children to safe points.

“What kind of tea are you having?” Dick asked, watching as Percy dumped a generous splash of cream and a bit of sugar into the mug.

“Passionflower. Helps me sleep,” Percy said. “Want some?”

“Sure. With honey, if you have any, please,” Dick said. Before this moment, he had absolutely no idea that Percy even liked tea.

Percy made Dick a separate cup of tea, passing it to him before sitting on the far end of the couch. He looked at Dick with a hint of conflict in his eyes, like he was debating letting him sit, so Dick decided to make the decision much easier by just sitting down. He didn’t sit right next to Percy, since he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but he wasn’t sitting quite that far either.

Percy looked at him, hands clenching and unclenching on his mug before he eventually relaxed and grabbed the TV remote. He turned on some random movie that Dick couldn’t have paid attention to if he tried, the volume a low hum that lulled them both towards closing their eyes.

“In thirty minutes, you’re leaving,” Percy whispered sleepily at some point.

“Don’t want me to spend the night?” Dick whispered back. It was late enough that he really didn’t want to grapple and walk the way back to the Manor, and he was so comfy where he was sitting. He wouldn't mind sleeping on the couch if it meant he could spend more time with Percy and didn’t have to get up.

“I’ll gut you like a fish and dropkick your body off the roof,” Percy replied.

Dick chuckled, reaching over to brush a strand of hair out of Percy’s face. “You can try, Baby Blue.”

—

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, New Jersey
2003

The afternoon before Percy’s introduction gala was quite possibly one of the worst activities maybe ever: photoshoots. There were going to be photographers at the gala, but there were also going to be a bunch of bonus pictures for the tabloids and articles online the next day.

Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Percy were all stuffed into complementary suits, got gloop in their hair to make it appropriately fancy, then got smacked in the face a couple of times with a makeup brush so that they didn’t look sickly in the photo’s lighting.

The photographer snapped a million pictures of them lined up on the staircase in the Manor as they all gave public-ready smiles (which seemed unnecessary given that only a few of them would even end up in the magazine).

“Wonderful!” the photographer, a woman named Madlyn, exclaimed as her camera flashed another dozen times. “Excellent! Just like that!”

Percy briefly entertained the idea of pretending to have some sort of medical emergency to get out of having to pose for another second - it had already been ten minutes, how many more were really needed? - when Bruce gave a soft and reassuring squeeze from where his hand rested on Percy’s shoulder.

“Why don’t we take a quick snack break? I’m famished,” Bruce said, his voice airy and lilting the way it was whenever he acted like Brucie.

“Of course, Mr. Wayne,” Madlyn said, for some reason blushing crimson even though Bruce had barely flirted with her.

Percy resisted rolling his eyes, and from the quietly annoyed groan that Jason let out from beside him, he felt the same. Percy, Jason, and Dick quickly left to find food. Alfred was already in the kitchen with cheese and crackers on a platter, not even blinking an eye as the three of them wolfed down half the plate.

“Is it always like this?” Percy asked, not caring if he was whining.

“Nah, it’s usually much worse. The photographer lady is being professional about it,” Jason said.

“So you mean it will get worse?” Percy asked incredulously.

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just wait until you have to watch all those married old women start clawing at him at galas. It’s disgusting,” Dick said with a shudder.

“Wait, galas? Does that mean they're going to be doing that tonight?” Percy asked.

“Happened at my intro gala,” Jason said, and Dick nodded in agreement.

“Ugh, I’m gonna puke,” Percy said, rubbing a hand over his face.

“It would be rather wasteful if you did, considering how much cheese and crackers you just ate, Master Percy,” Alfred chastised gently.

“Sorry, Alfred,” Percy said.

“Now, I do believe it is time for you all to return for the next round of photos,” Alfred said, and effectively shut down all of the ensuing protests afterwards.

As he was walking back towards the entrance, Percy internally bemoaned having to stand with perfect posture and a perfect smile for even longer. It was so stupid. Then, Percy was struck with an idea. He suddenly stopped walking as he ran through some of the logistics in his mind with a mischievous grin.

Jason turned to face him when he realized Percy wasn’t walking with them anymore. “Why’d you stop? Is something up?”

“If I said that I’m going to do something that would make taking all those pictures way less boring, would you help me?” Percy asked, glancing between Dick and Jason.

“Obviously. What do you need?” Jason asked, while Dick watched them with intrigue.

“I need some way to talk to the photographer without Bruce seeing,” Percy said.

“Pft, easy. I’ll just start doing my usual gymnastics right next to Bruce and he’ll be too busy getting me to stop,” Dick said, waving a hand with certainty.

“Am I needed for this? I feel like I can just watch,” Jason said.

“Not really,” Dick said.

“Thank you!” Percy said, quickly hugging Dick. Dick seemed surprised, and it took Percy a second to realize that it was the first time he had hugged him. Before he could freak out over whether or not he was crossing a line, Percy took off to find the photographer.

Madlyn was still talking with Bruce, face even redder and giggling at every word he said - which, gross, but Percy was a man on a mission and had better things to worry about. Dick started doing a bunch of back handsprings right next to Bruce and just barely avoided kicking him in the face (which Percy assumed had to have been intentional, since Dick was supposed to be one of the best gymnasts in the history of forever), making Bruce sufficiently distracted. Dick started flipping further and further away, and Bruce followed a few steps behind as he tried to convince Dick to quit it.

Percy walked right up to Madlyn, and began to whisper in her ear.

“That’s a lovely idea,” Madlyn said, getting her camera ready.

Percy turned to Dick and nodded for him to stop. Dick started to stand normally again, giving a half-hearted apology to Bruce before walking away.

“Bruce, catch!” Percy called out from across the entrance hall, already running towards Bruce as fast as he could, jumping in the air and landing safely in Bruce’s arms. “Do your best silly face,” Percy said, before facing the camera and sticking his tongue out.

Then, Percy crawled over onto Bruce’s back to force the man to give Percy a piggyback ride. He stuck two of his fingers up behind Bruce’s head, giving Bruce bunny ears. The camera shuttered another dozen times as Percy went from pose to pose. Lastly, Percy moved himself up onto Bruce’s shoulder, propping his elbows on Bruce’s head and resting his chin in his hands as he gave the first genuine smile of the day, as Bruce held his hands on Percy’s shins to stop him from sliding off.

“That’s perfect. I think we got the photos for the tabloids tomorrow,” Madlyn gushed, pressing on the buttons of her camera so hard Percy almost expected them to fly right off.

“Sweet,” Percy said, jumping off of Bruce and landing agile on the floor. “Are we done, then?”

“How about some photos of the whole family doing silly faces? And I want to try some outside, in more natural lighting,” Madlyn said, already walking out the front door with the rest of her crew on her heels.

“What was that all about, Cuddlebird?” Bruce asked softly as they made their way outside.

“I didn’t want to take another stuffy photo. They suck,” Percy explained.

“And the attempted espionage?” Bruce asked, lips quirking with amusement.

“I like koala hugs. And I wanted to see if you’d catch me,” Percy said, shrugging.

“I’ll always catch you,” Bruce said, with much more earnestness in his voice than what Percy had anticipated hearing.

Percy blinked at him, surprised. He was about to respond to that when Dick came up to them.

“I can’t believe you made me play distraction just for that,” Dick said, but he was smiling.

“It stopped the stupid pictures, didn’t it?” Percy said, raising an expectant brow.

“Guess so. Better than what I used to do when I was your age,” Dick said, laughing.

“He would bite the photographer’s crew until they ran away,” Bruce said in explanation once he saw Percy’s perplexed look.

“I feel like that would taste bad,” Percy remarked.

“Oh, it did. But after that, I didn’t have to take nearly as many fu - fricking pictures,” Dick said.

Percy looked at Dick flatly. “You don’t have to worry about not swearing in front of me. I can almost always promise that I’ve heard worse than that.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about, Percy, it’s Alfred. The second a curse word leaves someone’s mouth, he shows up out of nowhere to scold you for your language,” Dick explained.

“Quite right, Master Dick,” Alfred said, somehow appearing out of the aether.

“What the hell?” Percy whispered, baffled.

“Exactly,” was all Dick said in response.

They then lined up on the front steps of the Manor, right in front of the door, all four of them doing their silliest possible poses and faces. Percy sat perched on Bruce’s left shoulder, sticking out his tongue and making a peace sign. Jason refused to be left out on the using-Bruce-like-furniture train and sat on his right shoulder, flipping off the camera. Dick did a handstand on Bruce’s left side, meaning that he was right next to Percy too, so Percy shifted slightly so he could use Dick’s feet as a footrest for himself. Bruce’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and he winked at the camera.

“These are amazing. You guys can all relax now,” Madlyn said, and they got out of their poses.

“Be sure to send multiple printed copies of each of those photos to me, Maddie,” Bruce said.

“Of course, Mr. Wayne,” Madlyn said, blushing again. Percy, Jason, and Dick all shared revolted looks.

After that, the camera crew packed up and said their goodbyes, already planning on sending some of the photos to the various newspapers in Gotham - and the rest of the world, too. Percy could remember everyone talking about how the Bruce Wayne adopted another kid a few years back, when he lived with Mom and Gabe full time and walked himself to school every morning. By tomorrow, everyone would know about him living with Bruce.

Once the photoshoot was over, everyone had some free time before they had to get ready at six or so. They had dinner a little earlier than usual, then got shoved into different suits for the gala. Percy would have hated his suit a lot more if Bruce didn’t order it in mostly cobalt blue. Small mercies, Percy supposed.

Then, the gala itself started. Percy and Bruce were standing at the entrance to the Manor’s ballroom, and Percy had to greet dozens of people with vaguely-pompous last names that supposedly dated back generations. He had already been given flashcards by Bruce a few days earlier with all of the guests names, faces, and topics to mention and avoid with them, but he did his best to act like this was the first time he even heard of any of them.

At least Percy got to stick with Bruce. Jason and Dick were left to fend for themselves, which meant that they stuck together and were usually nearby, but they also had to keep a small level of distance so that everyone didn’t crowd around the four of them.

Once everyone had entered, it was time for the speeches. Bruce went first, giving a speech about how he was looking forward to helping another child in need, and how he was going to give Percy an amazing life. He waxed poetic about how they met (though it was obviously an edited version to say that Bruce encountered Percy when he was taking a walk along the Gotham Harbour since he couldn’t mention being Batman), and all the amazing things Percy was going to accomplish in the future.

When it was Percy’s turn to give his speech, he went purely off of memory. Bruce and him had worked through what Percy was going to say days earlier, and Percy had all of the major points down. He talked about how fortunate he felt to be taken in by Bruce, how nice it was to have a home after losing his mom and stepdad, and how he wanted to make Bruce proud. It was all true, albeit sugarcoated and oversimplified. At least he was allowed to stumble and stutter a little bit, since he was still new. Bruce said that the audience would find it endearing.

Then, Percy had to make rounds of talking to each person, answering questions and acting like he was shocked at the mere concept of a diamond and a private yacht. Don’t get him wrong, the fact that all of these people - including Bruce - had so many things that would have paid for years worth of rent in his old apartment just lying around was kinda mind boggling, but Percy knew that some people were real-life Scrooge McDucks that swam in gold coins on the regular.

“How much longer?” Percy whispered to Bruce as they walked from one group of snooty rich people to another.

“Just another two hours and fifteen minutes,” Bruce replied. “And once you get through it, you’ll get your suit.”

Percy sighed but didn’t argue, because Bruce had a point. He wanted to get his vigilante suit so badly! And he was basically already done training and ready to go out into the field, so he sucked it up and glanced at the old woman that was now in front of him.

She had wrinkly skin that sagged off her face just a little bit, lipstick that was too bright for her sallow complexion, and curls dyed purple-brown to cover up the greys that grew in around her temples and hairline. She, like all the other guests, looked at Percy with the weirdest combination of pity and envy, just because he was an ex-street kid that Bruce took in. It made Percy want to knock her crooked teeth right out of her mouth.

“Why hello, Brucie darling,” she greeted, smiling at Bruce before facing Percy. “And you must be the young man of the hour. My name is Winnifred Prescott. This is my son and daughter-in-law, Lewis and Rosamund. And the little one is my granddaughter, Evangelina.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Percy lied as he shook each of their hands. He thought it was a little weird that she brought her granddaughter to such a formal event, but maybe it was normal for kids to attend.

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest little gentleman? A marvel how you managed to get three of the riffraff to learn proper manners,” Winnifred complimented Bruce.

Bruce showed no outward reaction to that, which was the complete opposite of how her words wiped the fake smile clean off Percy’s face and how his hand balled into a fist at his side. Lewis and Rosamund both winced at Winnifred’s comment, while Evangelina just looked mildly confused.

“The boys already had manners before even meeting me. I just gave them the chance to show their etiquette off,” Bruce corrected, still perfectly polite despite the slightest flicker of anger in his eyes. He rubbed a soft circle in Percy’s shoulder with his thumb, and Percy plastered his smile right back on, relaxing his body.

“Now there, Brucie, there’s no need to lie. You and I both know that the rabble has a tendency to act a little south of civilized,” Winnifred said before guffawing obnoxiously.

“I find it so interesting how you are surprised at me having manners when I'm so surprised at how you have absolutely none,” Percy said sharply, though his smile never faltered.

Winnifred stopped laughing, looking at Percy with pure repulsion. “What a wretched child!” she spat.

“Mother,” Lewis began, placing a hand on her elbow and trying to get her to calm down, but she shook him off.

“How dare you speak to your elders that way?” Winnifred hissed.

“How dare you look like an overbred pug?” Percy snapped back, all pretence of propriety dropped in a heartbeat.

“I was going to propose an arrangement between you and my Evangelina, but it’s clear that you are not half as worthy enough for her,” Winnifred said.

Percy felt himself go still. “Are you telling me that you brought your granddaughter here with the intention to marry her off to me?” he demanded, his anger heating to a boil.

“Okay, Percy,” Bruce said loudly, giving him a we’ll-talk-about-this-later look. “Why don’t you go spend some time with your brothers?”

Percy clenched his jaw but nodded, heading off towards the other side of the ballroom where Jason and Dick were. As he left, he could hear Bruce smoothing his screw-up over with the Prescotts. He could feel his chance at getting his vigilante suit anytime soon wither away.

“What’re you doing here, Perce? Aren’t you supposed to be with Bruce?” Jason asked as soon as he saw Percy, frowning slightly.

“Bruce sent me here for saying Mrs. Prescott looks like an overbred pug,” Percy explained with a pout.

Jason barked out a laugh. “You did? Oh my god, please tell me she deserved it.”

“She totally deserved it. She kept on talking about how surprising it was that I had manners, and she wanted me to marry her granddaughter,” Percy explained.

“Oh, okay, so she more than deserved it,” Dick said.

“Am I going to be in trouble? Is Bruce going to kick me out for this?” Percy asked, glancing at both of his older brothers.

“No way. And even if he does, I’ll go with you. We’ll both live with Dick in Bludhaven,” Jason said confidently.

“Hang on, I didn’t agree to this,” Dick interrupted.

“Too bad, Dickhead,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. “But that’s just the worst case scenario. Bruce won’t kick you out for being right.”

“He said that I had to behave today,” Percy argued.

Jason suddenly paused, looking at Percy like he was some sort of genius. “He did say that, didn’t he? But he never said that I had to play nice.”

With that, Jason grew a sharp grin. He picked up a glass full of red wine and dumped it over the nearest guest. He didn’t even look close to sorry as they shrieked and sputtered, not bothering to offer an insincere apology.

“Oh, hell yes. It’s so on,” Dick said, abruptly looking more demonic than usual. He grabbed a tray of those mini snack things that were being passed around the gala and threw it like a frisbee, letting it soar in a perfect circle around the room and catching it in his other hand as he made a pose.

“Boys,” Bruce said, his voice carrying across the now dead-silent ballroom. “What on earth do you think you're doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Percy blurted immediately, lowering his head. He felt like he was back in all those times he had made Gabe angry growing up, and making Gabe angry usually meant that Percy was going to feel a lot of pain soon.

Bruce isn’t like Gabe, Percy reminded himself. Bruce is Batman, and Batman stops people like Gabe. Bruce is a good person.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” Bruce told Percy, keeping his glare on Dick and Jason.

“Well, Bruce, it seems to me like you can’t get mad at Percy anymore, since Dick and I both did way worse stuff,” Jason said, smug.

“I mean, who are you really going to get mad at? The one who insulted a single old hag, the one who dumped expensive wine on someone, or the one who threw a plate like an Olympic discus tosser?” Dick asked.

“All three of you, out. I will deal with you later,” Bruce said flatly, gesturing to the overly-decorated doors.

“I’m sorry,” Percy said again, before following Dick and Jason out.

He went straight to his room, brushing his teeth and changing into his pajamas before lying on his bed as he stared at his ceiling. He fidgeted with the buttons on his pajama shirt, trying to ignore how there was so much guilt in his guts it was giving him a stomachache.

Percy must’ve been lying like that for hours when there was suddenly a soft knock at his door.

“It’s Bruce,” he heard from the other side of the door. “Is it okay if I come in?”

“Okay,” Percy said.

The door opened and Bruce walked in, still in his suit from the gala. He quietly shut the door behind him. “Would you like to talk about it?” Bruce asked.

“Not really. I’d rather go back to sleep,” Percy replied.

“Back to sleep on top of your covers?” Bruce asked, brow raised.

“Totally. Ruining everything is exhausting, didn’t you know?” Percy quipped, rolling over onto his side so he didn’t have to face Bruce.

“You didn’t ruin anything, Percy,” Bruce sighed.

“Yes, I did!” Percy snapped. “You gave me one thing to do today, and I couldn’t even manage that.”

“I am not about to punish you for sticking up for yourself. What Prescott said was out of line, and I don’t blame you for being upset. I certainly was,” Bruce said. The bed dipped as Bruce sat on the edge, his hand coming up to rest on Percy’s shoulder.

“You said that I was supposed to handle negative comments with grace,” Percy pointed out.

“I did say that. I also didn’t think Prescott would be stupid enough to insult you like that to your face, especially after I chewed her out for what she said to Dick at his intro gala,” Bruce said.

“What’d she say to Dick?” Percy asked, curious.

“You don’t even want to know, kiddo. The important thing is that you aren’t in trouble,” Bruce said. Then, his expression turned amused. “Not for what you said, or for putting shaving cream in Dick’s shoes.”

“I didn’t do that,” Percy denied immediately. It was true, technically. Jason did the shaving cream, and Percy did the cotton balls.

“Sure you didn’t,” Bruce said.

“What about…” Percy trailed off.

What about my suit? Percy wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to sound like an ungrateful brat after Bruce just said that he wasn’t in trouble for ruining his own gala.

Bruce gave him a knowing smile. “You want to know if I’m gonna let you have a vigilante suit, aren’t you?”

Percy nodded, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“Well, how about this?” Bruce asked, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and brandishing it in front of Percy’s face.

Percy rolled back over, sitting up criss-cross apple sauce on his bed as he hesitantly grabbed the paper, unfolding it to reveal a detailed sketch of what looked like the coolest, bluest vigilante suit in the world.

“It’s mine?” Percy asked, looking up at Bruce with a gobsmacked expression.

“Yup. You can change a couple of things if you want, and I’ll have it made by next week,” Bruce said, taking the paper out of Percy’s hand and putting it on his nightstand.

Percy was hugging Bruce before he could even finish his sentence. “Thank you. You’re the bestest in the whole wide world,” Percy said, face buried in Bruce’s chest.

“I’m glad you like it, Cuddlebird,” Bruce said, one arm coming up to return Percy’s hug.

“Can I have a sword too? Pretty please?” Percy asked.

“No. Nice try, though,” Bruce chuckled.

“Why? You taught me how to swordfight - you even said I was a natural with it,” Percy said with a pout.

“I taught you as many weapons as I could just in case you need any of them to save your life. If you ever find yourself in danger and all you have is a sword, it’s best you know how to use it properly. But when we’re patrolling, having a blade means it’ll be too easy for you to do severe harm or even kill if you slip up. You’ll have batarangs and everything else Dick, Jay, Babs, and I use,” Bruce explained.

“Okay,” Percy said, nodding.

“Now, it’s time for bed,” Bruce said.

“Oh, come on, Bruce, you can’t show me that and expect me to be able to sleep afterwards. I’m too excited!” Percy said.

“Well, then, I guess the best thing for you to do tonight is go to bed and dream up some name ideas,” Bruce said as he got up off the bed and tucked Percy under the covers.

“Ugh, fine,” Percy said, rolling his eyes.

“You brushed your teeth and everything?”

“Mm-hm.”

“And you won’t stay up all night?”

“Course not.”

“Goodnight, Percy. You’ve got a big day tomorrow,” Bruce said.

“Night, Bruce,” Percy said, clenching his jaw to hold back a yawn.

When he woke up the next morning, hair tangled with bedhead and eye crusties in his eyelashes, he already picked out what he wanted his vigilante name to be: Blue Shrike.

Chapter Text

The Narrows
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

Bruce had long since given up on being close to a good father. It was difficult to hold onto that notion when each of Bruce’s older children did as much as they could to distance himself from him. In terms of his younger kids, he liked to think that he was getting better. Tim, Steph, Cass, Duke, and Damian all seemed to hate Bruce less than Dick, Jason, and Percy. But that didn’t change the fact that he failed his three eldest.

With Dick, he had been spending more and more time away as a teenager, later officially moving to Bludhaven and establishing his own vigilante identity as Nightwing before he had so much as turned twenty years old. These days, all of their conversations that weren’t centered around missions were either arguments or hiding an incoming argument. Harmonious moments between the two of them were few and far between.

With Jason, the situation was much more painful, like shards of glass scraping at Bruce’s heart. Bruce had held Jason’s body in his arms, felt the heat and smoke of the explosion, and felt his eyes burn with tears as the pain threatened to consume him.

Then, Jason came back, and Bruce felt everything inside him shatter all over again as his son looked him in the eyes and told Bruce that he grieved him wrong. Jason said, and meant with all his heart, that the way Bruce handled his death was a mistake. That Bruce’s very principles and morals were a mistake. It made Bruce feel a unique type of pain in his chest, not quite grief or agony or devastation, but some horrible combination of all three.

Percy, like Dick, left Gotham in pursuit of something far away from the cobbled-together family he had with Bruce. Percy left out of frustration and anger, but unlike Dick, he and Bruce had no tentative and shaky connection.

Percy had made it very clear that the only thing that kept him in Gotham was Jason, and without Jason, Percy had no reason to be around Bruce. The only time Bruce had seen Percy since he left was once a year on the anniversary of Jason’s death, just for a brief ceremony, and Percy hadn’t attended last year.

In the chaos that was Jason coming back from the dead, with hate in his heart and green in his eyes, Bruce had nearly forgotten to tell Percy that Jason was alive. Nearly. He sent a concise letter to Percy, updating him of Jason’s new status and sent it to Delphi Strawberry Services, the farm and summer camp he had lived at ever since he left Gotham.

It wasn’t Bruce’s fault that Percy never responded. After the third letter, he received a curt response in an unfamiliar handwriting stating that Percy was unavailable and all his previous messages had been disposed of.

Bruce stopped trying to communicate after that. Months went by since Bruce’s last attempt to tell Percy about Jason and Percy’s phone call to Alfred explaining that he would be back in Gotham for business.

According to Nightwing and Red Robin, who heard it from the mouth of an almost certainly lying Percy, Percy was in Gotham in order to hunt down and usher a specific breed of metahumans.

Percy also deliberately claimed that while he was not one of these metas, he was an ally of theirs. Bruce doubted this for several reasons. For instance, he still had vials of Percy’s blood, which had baffled every test and computer he ran it through. When Bruce tried looking at Percy’s blood under a microscope, he would catch glimpses of a peculiar shine, almost like a golden luster lining the red blood cells. Percy was also unnaturally talented regarding combat, moving without thinking as though he had the instincts that had taken Bruce years to develop. Whenever Percy showered after a patrol, his pain would marginally decrease as his injuries healed only slightly quicker than normal.

Suffice to say that Bruce was confident that Percy was one of these metas he was in Gotham trying to save. Why Percy was hiding it, Bruce couldn’t be certain. It was likely an order from a higher-up in this mysterious meta society. Perhaps he was trapped under oath, either magically or legally binding. It was also possible that Percy knew of and worked with these metas, but was a separate type of meta entirely, and thus had no idea of his status.

Or perhaps Percy lost all his trust in Bruce the moment Bruce failed to save Jason, and decided to keep his powers a secret from that point on. It wasn’t as though Bruce could blame him for that.

Nevertheless, when Percy came back to Gotham, Bruce made the decision to keep tabs from a careful distance but not interact. He knew that if he spoke with Percy it wouldn’t go well. There were three likely scenarios to occur, in fact: they verbally fought like how Bruce did with Dick, they physically fought like how Bruce did with Jason, or they would have stilted and stiff chatter that accomplished nothing positive or negative, which Bruce did on occasion with all his children. Bruce, personally, wanted none of these.

The previous night, when Nightwing returned from patrol after spending most of it with or looking for Percy, he and Bruce got into yet another argument.

What kind of a father are you if you won’t even talk to him? Dick had demanded.

Eventually, Bruce huffed and agreed that he would have a conversation with Percy, and only then was Dick satisfied enough to storm away muttering curses under his breath.

So here he was, outside of Percy’s apartment with his cowl on and breath carefully measured. Sunrise was still hours away, but Percy was awake and moving about his apartment as he talked to someone on the phone, his teleporting dog watching him from an incredibly large dog bed placed near the couch.

After a few minutes of watching out of Percy’s sight, of waiting for something - anything - that could give him reason to leave and not have to have this conversation, Batman sighed and landed on the balcony without so much as a whisper of sound.

Naturally, Percy knew that someone was there regardless, and spun around as he pulled out his weapons. In each of his hands were two xiphos swords: one sleek and smoothly built of what looked like bronze, the other a steel blade that was clearly mechanical and collapsible, if the soft metal-on-metal noise it made as it unfolded was any indication.

As Percy noticed Batman, his posture tightened and someplace and relaxed in others as his hands spasmed around the hilts of his blades. His jaw tensed, lips twitching into something resembling a frown and smile at once. There was a mess of emotions Batman didn’t know how to decipher hidden behind Percy’s glare.

Percy’s expression gradually settled into a fragile sneer as he walked towards the balcony door and slammed it open.

“Batman,” Percy greeted in a low voice, voice flatly cordial.

“We need to talk,” Batman said smoothly.

“What, are you breaking up with me or some shit? ’Cause I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I’ve been taken for the past two years,” Percy snorted, lips quirking into a facsimile of the witty humor Batman remembered from all those years ago.

Batman’s eyes narrowed from behind his cowl. “Taken,” he stated.

“You didn’t know? Well, shit, B, looks like you aren’t the wiseguy I remember you being,” Percy said, his chuckle bone-dry.

Percy was being intentionally antagonistic, then. He was trying to poke at Batman’s intelligence by giving information that he was aware Batman didn’t have to try and unsettle him. The frustrating aspect was that Batman had no way of knowing if Percy was telling the truth about having a romantic partner at all; for all he knew, Percy was lying for the sake of it.

“You’re collaborating with unknown metas,” Batman said, refusing to rise to the bait.

“Nice to see you, Percy. So glad we could talk again after almost two years, Percy. You’re my favourite kid, Percy,” he said, lowering his intonation in a parody of the Batman voice. “But you don’t say any of that, do you? Not even a hello. Just that you're all surly that I’m not giving you info you have zero right to.”

“You are proposing great risk to Gotham.”

“I’m actually eliminating the risk to both non-meta Gothamites and these metas that I’m taking to safe camps. So, y’know, fuck you,” Percy said, shrugging.

“We have no way of confirming that these metas won’t misuse their abilities,” Batman said, all traces of his frustration invisible to anyone on the outside.

Percy, of course, saw it anyway, and a muscle his jaw ticked. “That’s the whole point of training, B. The safe camps are exactly that: safe. For them and for those around them. Now you can either fuck off or tell me something that isn’t just your deep dislike for anything you don’t understand.”

“A lack of knowledge is lethal,” Batman said. Percy should know this. Percy did know this. He was just being needlessly stubborn.

“And I know enough to tell you that you don’t need to worry,” Percy snapped, a touch of real hurt flickering through his eyes before it was swallowed by soft rage. “I get that you’re just trying to protect Gotham and whatever, but you’ve got to realize that I’m not going to do anything to hurt people. I hoped that you would think that I’m better than that.”

“Mental manipulation isn’t entirely off the table,” Batman countered swiftly.

“Oh, yeah? And I just wouldn’t notice that I’m suddenly going against my beliefs, the beliefs that you raised me and Dick and Jay and the rest of those kids with? I wouldn’t realize that I was being fucking tugged around like a puppet? I’m completely, one hundred percent myself, alright?” Percy demanded.

“There is no reason to be needlessly difficult,” Batman said.

“Needlessly difficult? Is that really what you think I’m doing here?” Percy asked, nostrils flaring. “Fuck off, Batman. Or the next time I see you, I’m cutting that stupid cape clean off,” he added, twirling his swords for emphasis.

“With the bronze sword or the collapsible one?” Batman asked, letting some derision slip into his voice. Bronze was far from an ideal choice when it came to wielding a sword with its brittle and dense properties. As for the steel blade, it would be fairly easy for Batman to find whatever switch extended it to the length of a sword and reduce Percy’s range by forcing him to work with a knife.

“Why not both?” Percy snarked back.

“Careful, Blue Shrike,” Batman growled.

“I haven’t been Blue Shrike since I was fucking twelve, B. Now get off my balcony,” Percy hissed, sneering.

“You think I have no more questions about the metas you are colluding with?”

“You probably have a hundred questions, but I’m not telling you shit. Next time you want to talk to me, just pass a note through Damian, got that? He’s walking Lea every Saturday in the afternoons.”

Batman glared at Percy before letting out a silent sigh and leaping off the balcony into the street below, striding back into the night.

—

The Batcave
Gotham City, New Jersey
2003

Being Blue Shrike was the awesomest thing ever!

Percy got to wear the best vigilante suit on weekend nights whenever he was allowed to go on patrol, and it was the coolest! Percy’s suit was more blue than not, with only his gloves, boots, and domino mask being in black, and his utility belt was bright yellow like Jason’s and Bruce’s was. Everything else was an electric blue, like his cape and shirt and pants.

Percy was particular about wanting to wear pants instead of shorts like how Jason did, or the borderline underwear thing that he had seen pictures of from Dick’s days as Robin, because Gotham was cold at nighttime! He didn’t want to be distracted by shivering in the middle of a super cool fight! When he had explained all that, Jason and Dick called him boring, but Bruce just chuckled and ruffled his hair.

And patrol was some of the most fun Percy had had in his life, probably ever! Sure, it could be really stressful and he was now far more familiar with gore than he was before, but it was so deeply satisfying.

“How do you feel, Blue Shrike?” Batman asked after his very first (and mostly successful) patrol.

“I feel like I did something good,” Percy - Blue Shrike, he reminded himself, since it was important to keep the distinction mental and physical - replied after a moment. “I feel like I just made someone’s day go better than it would have without me.”

“Good. Hold on to that feeling,” Batman said, smiling down at him with pride.

Blue Shrike couldn’t help but give a glowing grin right back.

Percy liked being able to help people. He liked the feeling of his fist hitting some scummy mugger’s jaw, and how it always made the victims he saved look at him with appreciation because he was able to make a difference.

Becoming a vigilante meant that all the chaos and the hurt in his head dimmed every time he went on patrol. It meant that he could make sure that no other little kid had to come home one day to find their mom and stepdad’s blood soaked into the carpets, because Blue Shrike and Robin and Batman would always stop people like Erin.

People began to thank him when he returned their wallets or children after an incident. People would smile. And it felt like he had stars in his chest every time he helped, every time he saved someone. It was amazing.

At least, it was amazing until Blue Shrike went and fucked everything up like always.

After a couple weeks of joining Batman, Robin, and Batgirl on patrols, he was starting to properly settle into vigilantism.

It was his very first time dealing with one of the Rogues (other than the day he met B and Robin), which was something of a rite of passage, according to Batgirl. She’d even taken to pinching his cheeks like an old granny every time it got brought up.

The Riddler had busted out of Arkham a week and a half ago, and various supply stores had been looted that same day. There was also a series of puzzles written on seven buildings in vastly different parts of the city, with a new one appearing each day. There were images of each riddle on the screen of the Batcomputer, and all four of them had sat down and picked different puzzles to figure out what the Riddler’s game was going to be.

They eventually narrowed the Riddler’s location down to a hospital in Old Gotham, filled with a bunch of doctors, nurses, and patients who were currently doing riddles in exchange for their lives. No one had died yet, thank God, but there were already several injuries from henchmen getting too rough trying to get people in order.

Ambulances and cop cars swarmed the outside of the hospital, with Commissioner Gordon trying to negotiate with the Riddler through a megaphone.

It wasn’t going to work, obviously. Everyone there knew that Nygma was only doing this because he wanted to flaunt his intelligence. Nothing would get him to release the hostages except for his riddle being solved and his ass getting kicked.

“Split up,” Batman ordered. They were standing on the ledge of the hospital roof, out of everyone’s sight. All four of their capes fluttered dramatically in the wind. “Batgirl, Robin, take the east side. Blue Shrike and I will take the west. Wait for me to give the signal before striking.”

“Sure thing,” Batgirl said, rolling her shoulders like a boxer about to enter the ring.

“Dibs on punching Nygma in the face,” Robin chirped.

They both dove into the hospital with all the grace and silence of a cat carefully stalking its prey, doing a couple of extra flips and spins for the fun of it.

Once they were both out of sight, Batman turned to Blue Shrike. “Are you ready?”

“Hell yeah I am,” Blue Shrike said, grinning at him. He was practically buzzing with excitement, like a lightning-filled thunderstorm was brewing under his skin.

Batman didn’t smile, but his usual bat stoic-ness softened just a tad. He brushed a gloved hand through Blue Shrike’s hair, and the younger vigilante leaned into his hand.

“Then let’s go,” Batman said, vanishing from the ledge he had been perched on with a swish of his cape and Blue Shrike right on his heels.

They slinked into the shadows, watching with disgust as the Riddler cackled to himself and made all the hospital staff and patients - tied up and gagged in a pile on the floor, seriously, not even a chair, what kind of cheap ass villain scheme was this? - piss themselves with fear.

Right as the Riddler was about to shove a bunch of heavy-duty medications from a nearby cabinet down a nurse’s throat for getting a riddle wrong, Batman stepped forwards, chucking a batarang at the Riddler’s arm and effectively drawing attention to himself.

Blue Shrike snuck towards the cluster of hostages as Batman and Nygma fought, crouching on the floor and pulling a pair of lockpicks out of his belt. He began to undo all the handcuffs as quickly as he could, with a delicate grace that was practiced into him by hours of Batman's teachings. As soon as the civilians were freed, they began to race to the doors with the clear intention to escape.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Robin and Batgirl taking down all of the Riddler's henchmen with a ferocity that made him only a little bit envious that he was on hostage duty. He knew that both of their jobs were equally important, but he couldn't help but feel like a little kid being kept out of the fun.

"And who do we have here?" the Riddler said, and suddenly Blue Shrike was being grabbed by the cape and dragged.

Instinctively, Blue Shrike kicked the Riddler in the back of the knee, knocking him to the floor before punching the Rogue in the face. Teeth and blood flew out of his mouth, but Blue Shrike was too busy pulling out a batarang and pinning the Riddler's clothes to the ground to do anything other than distantly notice it.

"Riddle me this, little bluebird: what is half red and half gold, smells like a five course meal on a platter, and stands with the strength of the oldest of bloods?" the Riddler asked, with a bit of a lisp from the teeth Blue Shrike had just knocked out. His nostrils were flaring like he was a bloodhound sniffing out prey.

"An idiot?" Blue Shrike guessed wryly, stepping away from the Riddler just as Batman approached to handle him.

The Riddler laughed, bloodstained lips glinting in the fluorescent lights of the hospital. "That too, I suppose. Back to Arkham, now, is it?"

"Until you can be safely discharged," Batman confirmed, zip-tying him up and walking him to the door for the police to deal with.

Blue Shrike, with adrenaline still flooding his veins and his ADHD feeling like it was being cranked to eleven, noticed one goon that managed to wriggle his way out of his bindings and get a hold on a gun, pointing it at Jason and the civilian he was giving first aid to.

Jason was going to get hit. He was going to get hit with a bullet and die, just like Mom and Gabe did, and he would bleed to death not in the comfort of his own home, but in a dingy hospital after having to fight a bunch of goons.

Panic rushed through Blue Shrike so quickly he almost went dizzy with it, only barely keeping his bearings enough to sprint towards Jason and shove him out of the way just before the henchman pulled the trigger.

"Woah, P - Blue, you alright?" Robin asked, as Batgirl ran towards the stray goon and tied him up much more securely.

It was only then that he realized that he was crying from beneath his mask. "He was about to shoot you," Blue Shrike whispered.

"He missed," Robin said, pointing with his thumb at the bullet hole in the ground a few feet away from them.

"Oh. Oh, that's good," Blue Shrike said, sighing with relief and mind still fuzzy.

"And you don't have to worry about me. Our suits are bulletproof, remember?" Robin said.

Blue Shrike didn't answer.

God, I must look like a total idiot right now. He could have handled himself, Blue Shrike thought, clenching his hands into fists as his face burned with embarrassment.

"Blue Shrike," Batman said, spawning out of nowhere like a goddamn video game character.

"What's up?" Blue Shrike said brightly, hoping (and realizing that he was failing) to hide the fact that his eyes were still wet and that he was still a little shaky.

"You saw the bullet and didn't protect the civilian," Batman stated.

The tangible almost-but-not-quite disappointment in his voice was a quick way to make the urge to cry come return with roaring vengeance.

"I thought it was going to hit Robin," Blue Shrike responded, voice trembling more than he would have liked.

"Who was standing next to an unaware hostage that you had equal ability to choose to protect, rather than the person with bulletproof clothing on," Batman countered.

"Lay off him, B," Robin said, despite making a similar argument a few seconds earlier.

"I'm not mad at you; you're still new to this, and this was your first hostage situation and first encounter with a Rogue. I just need you to realize how important it is to protect the civilians in situations like these," Batman said softly.

"I'm sorry," Blue Shrike said, staring at his shoes and trying his best not to freak out. "I thought - I thought that he was going to - "

I thought that Jason was going to get killed like Mom was. I thought I was going to lose everything all over again.

"He was just worried about me," Robin said, wrapping a comforting arm around Blue Shrike's shoulders.

"I know. But you need to learn to prioritize civilians in situations like these. We do the work that we do to defend those that cannot defend themselves," Batman said. He sounded knowing and understanding and safe, and it should have calmed Percy down, but all he felt like was an even bigger fuck-up.

"I don't care about some random civilian! I care about you guys!" Percy exclaimed.

"Why don't we go back to the cave and get patched up, okay?" Batgirl suggested gently.

Percy ignored her. "And you know what, B? I'd do it again too! I don't want to lose anyone ever again!"

Instead of getting angry or seeming disapproving, Batman just held his arms out to Percy, who hesitated for a moment before crawling into his arms and pressing his face to Bruce's armoured chest.

"Thank you for looking after your big brother," Bruce whispered into Percy's ear.

"I'm sorry for messing up," Percy said, sniffling and failing to wipe his eyes with the domino mask in the way.

"You didn't mess up, Cuddlebird," Bruce said, his hand rubbing soothing motions along Percy's back as he walked to the Batmobile. "You're young. You're new to this. You're learning. And it's my job to help you learn."

"I ruined everything again," Percy insisted.

"Would Agent A prepare a movie night with blue popcorn for someone who ruined everything?" Bruce asked.

"…No."

"Exactly. So why don't we go home and watch the a movie?" Bruce asked.

"Okay," Percy agreed, as the storm of sadness and humiliation that was threatening to swallow him whole began to recede. "But only if it's Jumanji."

Bruce chuckled. "Deal."

"Hey, why don't I get to be carried home after patrol?" Jason demanded, walking a few steps behind them.

"You wanna be carried like that?" Babs asked, raising a brow.

"I would appreciate the offer," Jason said.

Percy silently stuck his tongue out at Jason from over Bruce's shoulders. Jason gasped in offence, clutching a hand to his chest in exaggerated shock.

Later that night, they all sat curled up on the couch as Robin Williams faced a crocodile, teeth turning slightly blue from the dyed popcorn. Between one moment and the next, Percy took a really long blink and when he opened his eyes, it was the next morning.

Chapter Text

Crime Alley
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

Percy wanted it to be known that he had zero intentions of going to Crime Alley that day. Generally, he never had any intentions of going to Crime Alley ever, but a few months ago he would have said that he never wanted to go back to Gotham at all, so maybe he should learn to accept his fate with these things.

In the afternoon, he had taken Lea on a walk, and she had sniffed out a demigod living deep in the Alley, which meant that they had to investigate. It took Lea ten minutes to pinpoint the source of the smell, during which there were only two attempted muggings, which Percy had to admit wasn't bad for Park Row's usual level of shit.

He'd heard about a new guy taking over Crime Alley in recent years, a gang leader who went by the name Red Hood. From what little reconnaissance he was able to do from Camp Half-Blood, Red Hood was either an murderous drug lord that always had a finger resting on the trigger, or an almost heroic figure to the people of Crime Alley due to his efforts to reduce adolescent addiction and his regulation of gang violence. Results were inconclusive, so Percy decided to stay out of the guy's business either way.

Fortunately, his work in Crime Alley was fairly quick, since the demigod Lea had smelled was a toddler with a particularly strong scent. The kid was almost definitely a child of Zeus or Jupiter, if the electric blue eyes were anything to go by, and Percy had already made a mental note to IM Jason and Thalia to let them know about their new sibling.

Since he didn't need to shepherd the little kid to either camp, he just clipped Lea's leash back on and went to walk right out of the Alley. It was easy work, all things considered. The mother of the child of Zeus had even given Percy some food before sending him on his way, promising to reach out as soon as the kiddo hit twelve years old.

So naturally, that's when everything started going to shit.

Mrs. O'Leary, being the adorably terrifying hellhound she was, picked up on it first. She stopped suddenly, hackles raising as she sniffed at the air. Percy spent a grand total of two seconds panicking over her reaction when he noticed it too: smoke.

Percy scanned the air until he pinpointed the direction the smoke was coming from, spotting flames licking a building two streets over.

He moved on instinct, immediately unhooking Lea's leash and running towards the house fire with speed a touch too quick to be fully mortal.

"Lea, get everyone in the building outside," Percy ordered in Ancient Greek.

Lea barked an affirmation as she shadowtravelled inside, while Percy pulled the gas mask and goggles off of his makeshift utility belt and put them on. He smashed open a window on the second floor and climbed inside, already spotting two people trying to get out a flame-coated door. He got their attention, grabbing them both and getting them outside before going back in and repeating the process on the rest of the floor.

On his third round hauling people out of the fire, he finally spotted a vigilante on a nearby roof. After taking a second to regain his focus after having spent the past ten minutes seeing nothing but smoke, Percy was able to realize it was the only Bat that ran around during the daytime - Signal.

"What took you so long?" Percy asked, voice distorted by the gas mask.

"I was on the other side of the city," Signal said before grappling down to street level.

"The second floor is mostly clear, and Lea focussed on the upper floors. When's the fire department getting here?" Percy asked, getting straight to business.

"Seven minutes," Signal stated. "Where's your dog?"

As if she could tell they were talking about her, Lea appeared a few steps down the street, dragging two grown men by the hems of their shirts in her teeth. She plopped them down on the ground, sniffing at them for a few seconds. Percy whistled sharply, getting her attention and gesturing for her to come close.

"Dead bodies?" Percy asked, switching back to Ancient Greek as soon as she was within hearing range. It was the only language Daedalus had trained her in, so it was the only one she had any level understanding of.

Lea barked enthusiastically, tail wagging in a way that it wouldn't if she had had to carry around a corpse.

"No one's died yet," Percy informed Signal.

"Let's keep it that way," Signal said, seemingly rolling with the fact that Percy just spoke a dead language to what he believed was a teleporting dog.

"Give me a comm so we can stay connected," Percy said.

Signal hesitated for a moment, clearly listening to Oracle or whoever else was speaking in his ear, before he pulled a spare earpiece out of his belt and passing it to Percy.

"Don't lose it," he warned.

Percy scoffed, scooping up the comm and placing it in his ear. "I'm not some amateur."

"Good to hear your voice again," Oracle said.

"Right back at you, O," Percy said, feeling strangely choked up.

Percy could barely the last time he saw to Babs. It must have been sometime between Jason's funeral and when he left, in those months were everything was painted a miserably bleak grey. Despite the pain of losing Jason still feeling fresh most days, the time since he and Babs had last spoken felt like eons ago. He could remember the two of them, despite not being particularly close, being friends. At least, before Percy ran away.

He didn't realize how much he had missed her until just now.

"The building was filled with a hundred and fifty residents, most of which were out at work or school when the fire started," Oracle said.

Percy did a rough count of the people he and Lea had already rescued. "We've got about forty here."

"Let's go," Signal said.

They both took off into the building, each of them taking a different floor and rescuing as many people as they could find with Oracle in their ears, telling them which rooms were certainly empty and which ones were not. The fire department showed up not too long after that to put out the fires and rescue everyone else. The whole disaster was under an hour long, with no casualties, though a handful of people had to be sent to the hospital with burn marks and smoke inhalation.

As soon as they were certain that everyone was safe and out of all the apartment units, Percy and Lea walked away from the ashy building to find somewhere to sit. Signal decided to come with, and the three of them sat on the curb of a sidewalk a few steps away. Percy pulled the gas mask and goggles off, grabbing a flask of his own nectar and saltwater concoction off his belt, and taking a swig. Every injury on his body that he got from going into the fire over and over healed in a few seconds.

"I'd offer you a sip, but I don't want to kill you," Percy said when he noticed Signal glancing at the flask.

"High alcohol content?" Signal asked.

"Very," Percy lied, because he couldn't really explain that it would make him burst into a ball of flames and die on the spot.

Despite not being the biggest fan of drinking, it wasn't that Percy was entirely against it either. At first, it would remind him of Gabe, which reminded him of coming home after getting expelled to find blood seeping into the floorboards and Erin. But after the Titan War and the Giant War, everyone at both camps would celebrate with drinks and dancing and getting to act like the teenagers they were, and Percy wasn't an exception.

"By the way, you might want to check up on all the people Lea teleported out of the building. The side effects aren't too bad or long lasting, but it is some pretty intense nausea and vomiting. It's like getting shoved onto a roller coaster," Percy said.

"Will do," Oracle said.

"Percy," Bruce - no, Batman - said into his ear.

"Someone finally got on comms," Percy remarked.

"You repeatedly walked into a fire with no protection or equipment," Batman continued as if Percy had never said anything.

"I had a gas mask, goggles, and, oh yeah, a magical teleporting dog. I was fine," Percy said, rolling his eyes.

"Even then, you should at least come back to the cave so we can get your injuries checked out," Signal said.

"You're probably covered in burns, Blue," Oracle said in agreement.

"I have literally zero injuries," Percy said, with complete honesty. He poured a bit of saltwater nectar into a nearby pothole for Lea to lap at and heal the rest of her wounds, because it turned out that monsters could be healed by nectar and ambrosia too, which especially came in handy with Tyson getting injured in the forges of Atlantis.

"You should go to a hospital. Civilians are at risk when they intervene," Batman stated.

"I'm not a fucking civilian, B," Percy snapped, feeling his patience wearing thin.

"You are not a vigilante, hero, or villain," Batman countered.

Percy clenched his jaw to avoid saying that he was a hero, in the ancient and inherent sense of the word. He didn't wear a cape, but he was related to Theseus and Heracles and all of the greatest heroes of the mythic days. He had saved the entire world twice in as many years, and he wasn't even legally able to vote.

"You raised me to help people. To do anything I can to save the lives of the innocent and redeem the souls of the cruel," Percy, eyes burning a hole in the pavement below. "I've done everything I could to stick by those rules. I don't give a shit about the fact that I wasn't in any gear and didn't have any backup until Signal showed up. If I hadn't intervened, who knows how many people would have died?"

"Without proper protection, you could have died," Batman said.

"And good riddance, huh?" Percy said, rolling his eyes so hard he nearly went blind.

"That's not true," Oracle said.

"Then what am I supposed to believe? That you all give two shits about me?" Percy demanded, feeling uncomfortably raw and honest.

"They do," Signal chimed in. Percy raised a brow at him, as if to ask what the hell someone he'd only met recently could possibly know about this. "Runaway or not, estranged family is still family," he elaborated.

"Once a Bat, always a Bat?" Percy drawled, because it was easier to reach for sarcasm than truth.

"Exactly. Don't tell me you've managed to shake off the paranoia," Signal said, chuckling slightly.

"Of course not. My friends say I'm neurotic, but I've saved our asses more times than I care to count," Percy said with a smile toying at his lips.

"Sounds accurate," Oracle commented.

Percy bit his lip as he weighed the pros and cons in his mind before coming to a decision.

"Speaking of my friends," Percy said, praying to every god on and off Olympus that he wasn't about to say something stupid. "One of them will be coming to Gotham soon. Help me out with my work here for a while, you know how it is. If any of you guys pull some stupid shit, I'm going to shut off all water in the Manor for a year, and you'll have to bathe in the harbour."

"We're going to have to do some level of investigation," Oracle pointed out, unfortunately and frustratingly reasonable.

"He was legally declared dead at age three when the cops couldn't find the body, only to have been raised by wolves like the furry version of Tarzan. The only stuff out there about him are niche conspiracy theories and the official statement that he died," Percy said, tilting his head back and enjoying the usual lack of sunshine.

"I am deeply intrigued but also not going to ask out of a desire to not bathe in the harbour," Signal said.

"Thank you. Just for that, you're invited to join me and Damian this Saturday; after he walks Lea, we're going to go the smoothie shop near Gotham Academy. My treat," Percy said, standing up off the curb and stretching.

"I'll be there," Signal said.

"Sweet," Percy replied. "It was nice talking to you again, O."

"You too, Blue," Oracle responded.

Percy plucked the comm out of his ear before Batman could say anything and handed it to Signal, who pocketed it once more. He whistled lowly to get Lea to stop focussing on licking her paws and get them both back home, running his hand through her fur as he waved a goodbye to Signal.

In a dizzying swirl of darkness, Percy was back at his apartment. Lea immediately went to her dog bed, shredding apart a rope toy like it was butter, and Percy internally sighed at the fact that it was the fourth one she went through this week. He would have gotten her something sturdier, but it was one of the best that the pet store offered, and he didn't want her to get a disease if he repurposed trash off the street like truck tires or metal pipes.

Percy sat down on his couch, pulling out his notebook from under the couch cushions and unsheathing Riptide before placing the cap on the end and turning it into pen form. He cracked his knuckles as he got back to work on trying to narrow down even more demigods in Gotham, praying that he wouldn't be too late to save any of them.

—

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, New Jersey
2003

Percy stayed huddled underneath his blankets, praying that when he opened his eyes, it wouldn't be his birthday. If it was his birthday, then he would officially be ten years old. If it was his birthday, then he would have spent months with Bruce. If it was his birthday, then it would be his very first birthday without his mom.

Which was why Percy was certain that if he just stayed in bed for the next day or two, he would never turn ten. Problem solved.

Or at least, it would have been if it weren't for Alfred knocking on his door.

"Are you awake, Master Percy?" Alfred asked, his voice slightly muffled.

"Don't come in!" Percy called out, giving up on pretending that today didn't exist. "I'm sick!"

"You are? Well, then I should absolutely come in to your room to that I can check your temperature and bring you whatever medicine you may need," Alfred said.

Percy cursed under his breath. "It's contagious - if you get close, you'll catch it!"

"And how would you know that it is contagious, seeing as you haven't had an adult of any sort check?" Alfred asked.

"It's, uh…lycanthropy?" Percy asked, knowing he was in a losing battle.

"Lycanthropy, you say? Well, then I suppose it's a good thing that the full moon isn't for another two weeks," Alfred said, turning the doorknob and coming in.

"Alfred!" Percy whined, hiding his head under the covers. "I could be a werewolf right now and you would have been eaten."

"Alas, you are not a werewolf, and I am not your morning meal. Your actual breakfast is downstairs in the kitchen waiting for you," Alfred said.

"I'm not hungry. I transformed into a werewolf last full moon and ate a bunch of sheep," Percy said grumpily.

"I'm afraid that Master Bruce and Master Jason won't be able to eat until you are hungry once more, given that it is your birthday breakfast," Alfred said primly.

"What? That's not fair to them!" Percy exclaimed.

"Then you'd best get downstairs," Alfred suggested, walking out of his room.

Percy groaned before throwing off his blankets and following him to the dining room, where Jason and Bruce were waiting for him. The breakfast spread was ridiculous in only the way life at Wayne Manor could be, with a million different foods that smelled mouthwatering and delicious.

"There you are, sleepyhead," Jason said. "I thought we'd be stuck starving to death."

Percy responded to that very maturely (he blew a raspberry at him).

"Happy birthday, Percy," Bruce said with a smile, giving Jason a look until he said it too.

"Thank you," Percy said softly, sitting down and stacking his plate high with blueberry pancakes drenched in maple syrup.

"So, how's it feel to finally be double digits?" Jason asked, digging into his own food.

"I miss my mom," Percy said, voice flat.

Everyone froze. Percy kept his eyes trained on his pancakes, not daring to see their reactions.

"I know you do, Percy," Bruce said quietly after a long moment. "I did too, when I lost my parents. I understand how hard it is to feel yourself grow older without them. We're here, whenever you need us."

"I had another nightmare about her, last night. It was her body again, and it was bleeding all over the place, except she was in the Manor this time. And her body, it was right next to all of yours," Percy confessed. He spared a thought to be proud of how his voice didn't shake as he mechanically chewed on a bite of fruit.

"Oh, Perce," Jason said, voice dense with sadness.

"Why didn't you come get me?" Bruce asked.

"It was two in the morning. You were on patrol," Percy said, shrugging.

"Even then. If you have a nightmare that bad, you're more than welcome to go down to the Cave and call me. If I can't come back quick enough, then Alfred will be able to take care of you in the meantime," Bruce said.

"But you were busy," Percy protested.

"And you were hurting. I can wrap up a patrol early if you need me here. You can always come to me for things like this, no matter what," Bruce promised.

Percy finally pulled his eyes from his plate to look at Bruce. "Okay. Thank you."

"A nightmare's a pretty crummy way to start your birthday," Jason noted. Then, his smile grew sly. "Good thing you've got presents to make up for it later."

"Presents?" Percy asked, curious.

"Of course. You didn't think we were going to celebrate your birthday without presents, did you?" Bruce asked.

For all his previous birthdays, presents were a baggie of blue candies from Mom's job at the sweet shop and a small toy or picture book that Percy had picked out from the store. But Percy knew that presents in the Wayne household would be something very different.

"When can I open them?" Percy asked, already bouncing in his chair with excitement.

"You can open mine once we're done with breakfast," Jason said.

Percy decided to take that as a challenge as to how fast he could finish eating, shovelling food in his mouth until his plate was clean and dragging Jason away to show him his present.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on!" Percy whined.

Jason laughed. "You're an annoying little brat, aren't you?"

"An annoying little brat who's about to get presents," Percy reminded him, badgering Jason until he went up to his room and came back with a wrapped box.

Percy quickly tore the wrapping paper off, leaving little shredded bits on the floor as he saw his birthday gift.

"A skateboard?!" Percy asked, grinning.

"You said you wanted to learn how to skate, so I got you one. Well, all of my money is the allowance Bruce gives me, so technically he got you one, but I picked the Sponge Bob patterns," Jason explained.

"Thank you!" Percy practically shouted, throwing his arms around Jason's torso and hugging until Jason forcibly shoved him away out of fear of his ribs shattering.

"You think that's good, you should see what Bruce got you," Jason said.

Percy gasped, setting his brand new skateboard on the floor and shakily skating his way to his second present of the day, only crashing into two walls before Alfred caught him and made him walk.

When Percy finally walked the whole way (pouting about how laborious walking was when he now had a skateboard right there), Bruce just smiled at him for a second before handing him a small velvet box with a neatly-tied bow on top.

"I know it isn't much," Bruce said, completely unaware or maybe just ignoring the fact that this was almost definitely the most expensive present Percy had ever been given. "But the present I was originally planning on getting you was taking too long to put together, so I had to scramble last minute and get you this. You should be able to get the original gift by Christmas time."

"Thank you!" Percy said, tearing the ribbon off and opening the box to reveal a fancy-looking pen.

"It's a multi-use pen, inlaid with eighteen karat gold. It functions as a pen with erasable ink, flashlight, ruler, screwdriver, lockpicks, and switchblade," Bruce explained.

Percy twirled the pen in his hand, seeing the cursive engraving on the side, with Percy's name and the year. He pushed a button on the side to pop out the switchblade, sharp and gleaming in the light, and he giggled.

"Thank you, Bruce," Percy repeated, giving him a hug.

"And that's not all," Bruce said, reaching into his pocket and handing Percy two small pieces of paper.

"Move tickets?" Percy asked as he grabbed them.

"I know you were upset that I wouldn't let you go back to the aquarium - don't give me that look, Percy, I can't trust you not to try stealing the fish - so I decided to get you the next best thing. Disney's just put out a new movie about fish called Finding Nemo, so I thought I'd take you," Bruce said.

"Can I get M&Ms and popcorn and soda?" Percy asked excitedly.

"As a birthday treat, sure. But you'll only be getting once slice of cake tonight, then," Bruce said.

"Deal - wait, I get cake too?" Percy asked, practically bug-eyed. Before, Mom would only let him have cake, and they would share a can of orange Fanta from the vending machine so that Percy wouldn't start crawling the walls from a sugar high.

"Alfred's making it blue," Bruce said, nodding.

Percy felt like the world stopped.

Mom would always make chocolate cake with vanilla buttercream icing, and both of them were dyed blue to hell and back even though blue food colouring didn't work on chocolate cake. Percy could remember sitting on the kitchen counter exactly one year ago, with his legs swinging as the smell of cake wafted through their small apartment. Gabe was drunk in the living room as he watched a football game, but Percy hardly cared because Mom had asked him to help her frost the cake and it was the one time a year that Mom forced Gabe to behave.

Percy felt like he would have done anything to have Mom back. Hell, Percy would even do a lot to get Gabe back, if only because he knew that he didn't deserve to die how he did and he missed having something familiar.

"Can I see it?" Percy asked softly.

Bruce just nodded once more, something knowing in his eyes, before placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him to the fancy kitchen where Alfred was preparing the cake.

It was the farthest thing possible from the cake that Mom had always made him, but Percy didn't think that was entirely a bad thing. Where Mom's cake was one rectangular layer with thick globs of frosting spread across the surface and the partially-melted candles from last year, Alfred's was three circles of undyed chocolate-vanilla marble cake stacked on top of each other, coated in white frosting with blue swirls along the edges and Percy's name in a delicate cursive on the top.

It made Percy's chest hurt, but it also made him smile.

"Ah, Master Percy," Alfred said, piping bag in his hand. "I see you have you're other presents. Give me a moment to fetch Master Dick's."

"Dick got me a present too?" Percy asked, surprised.

"Of course," Alfred said, wiping his hands on a tea towel before leaving the kitchen and returning with a cardboard box in his hands.

Curiously, Percy opened it up and found a paper note on top of a CD book. Percy took the note and handed it to Bruce, who was looking at the CDs with a raised brow.

"Happy double digits, Baby Blue. I grant thee the gift of iconic music taste. Hope this year is a fun one for you," Bruce recited.

Percy flipped through the different CDs, taking a second to parse out the names written on each disk in Sharpie. It was all pop stuff that Percy had heard on the radio before, like Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys and Micheal Jackson.

"I didn't expect him to get me anything," Percy said, smiling.

"I remember buying him those CDs a few years back," Bruce grumbled, but Percy could see the amusement in his eyes.

"Don't worry, B, they're just family heirlooms now," Percy said with a grin.

"Oh, is it now?" Bruce asked, voice dry as bone.

"I'm going to go call Dick and thank him. What time do we leave for the movie theatre?" Percy asked, already heading out of the kitchen.

"Two hours from now," Bruce replied.

"You best not have so much popcorn and sweets as to ruin your dinner, Master Percy," Alfred reminded him.

"I won't!" Percy called out from halfway up the stairs, all his presents tucked under his arms.

For all their craziness, Percy figured that spending all his birthdays from now on with his new family would be pretty nice.

Chapter Text

Camp Half-Blood
Long Island Sound, New York
2010

Jason didn't really know what to think about Gotham City. Growing up in the Twelfth Legion, all he'd ever heard about it was it was a crime-filled urban hell filled to the brim with mortal and monster criminals alike. He thought about Gotham very rarely, but when it did cross his mind because he was on a quest that took him nearby or a rumour about the infamous bat vigilante that stalked the streets, he felt nothing positive about it.

When first he'd met Percy Jackson-Wayne on the Argo II, he was more focussed on the fact that Percy was a son of Poseidon and basically Jason's Greek equivalent, rather than Percy being a Gothamite and the son of billionaire-playboy-philanthropist Bruce Wayne. The fact that Percy could tear through an army of monsters like they were made of tissue paper and control the tides was infinitely more important than his wealthy mortal father.

But then the war against the Giants and Gaea was over. All seven of them had miraculously survived, successfully making contact between the Greek and Roman camps. And Jason suddenly had a spare moment to think about just how insane Percy really was.

Percy could lie without so much as blinking, add a layer of any accent to his voice while barely considering it, and could strategize so well he could pass for the son of a war god if it weren't for his unmistakable sea glass eyes. He had also, according to Annabeth, completely restructured the way Camp Half-Blood was run, creating a long and complicated series of contingencies that had saved lives when the forces of Saturn (or rather, Kronos) sieged Olympus.

All of that was to say that Jason had been a little more than curious when Percy had invited him to stay at his apartment in Gotham for a while and help him find demigods to whisk away to either camp.

"Do you have everything packed?" Annabeth asked as Jason approached Tempest with a hiker's backpack slung over his shoulders.

"Of course. And some extra supplies, in case Percy ran out while he's been there," Jason said, mounting Tempest and stroking the storm spirit's neck in an attempt to calm him.

"Tell him I said hi," Annabeth said. Her lips pursed as she took in the dense clouds that brewed overhead just from Tempest being nearby.

"Haven't you been calling him?" Jason asked.

"Every other day. But it'll still be nice for him to hear it from you," Annabeth replied.

"Then I'll also tell him that you love him," Jason said.

"He already knows that much, but I guess it couldn't hurt," Annabeth mused, grey eyes flickering with amusement.

"See you in a week or two," Jason said, waving goodbye as Tempest took to the sky.

For a ventus like Tempest, the flight from New York to New Jersey was pretty quick. As they flew across the skies, Jason even considered the idea of him being able to fly himself there if he had enough time to prepare. When Jason flew, it was usually short burst to grab or find something that someone without flight wouldn't be able to do, so the idea of trying longer distances intrigued him.

When they finally got close to Gotham City, a storm was already there. The clouds were just shy of being as dark as shadow, and rain mercilessly hit the tops of the skyscrapers and the pavement below.

Jason rolled his eyes. Percy had almost definitely made the storm to hide Jason.

Percy had never trusted the Mist. From what Jason had been told, when he was twelve the Mist had covered for the existence of the Chimera by framing him for domestic terrorism. On the quest for Rome and the Acropolis earlier that year, Percy had mentioned his distaste for the magic that shielded mortals from their world on more than one occasion. Not even Hazel learning to master the Mist would stop him from being so paranoid.

Not one to be outdone, Jason made lightning shoot across the sky like fireworks. The tiny figure standing alone on a rooftop, unbothered by the rain and certainly Percy, appeared to tilt its head back with laughter.

Tempest landed on the roof with a whinny, and Jason dismounted easily. He took off his glasses and began to wipe the raindrops off them with the hem of his shirt

"Well, if it isn't Blonde Superman!" Percy greeted with a grin, stepping forwards to wrap Jason in a squeezing bear hug.

Jason, who still very much could not see, spluttered confusedly. "Oh my gods, Percy, warn a guy."

"The first thing you did when you got to a new and unfamiliar environment was remove the equipment that helps you see. I didn't mean to freak you out, but now I think you kinda deserve it," Percy said. He patted Jason once on the shoulder consolingly, and all the water on Jason's shoulder evaporated on the spot.

"Rude. But thanks for not letting me get even more soaked, Fish Face," Jason said.

"And hello to you too, Tempest," Percy said, despite Jason knowing that his ability to communicate with horses didn't apply to a horse-shaped storm spirit. "I brought you donuts; they're Blackjack's favourites. I don't know if you like them too, though."

"Don't I get any donuts?" Jason asked.

"You can have whatever Tempest and I don't finish," Percy said without hesitation, taking a box of powdered donuts out of his bag and offering one to Tempest.

Jason heaved an exhausted sigh and prepared to guilt trip his way into a donut. "And here I was, coming to this hellscape of a city out of the kindness of my heart, to help my best bro - "

"I'm telling Leo you said that," Percy interrupted, mouth half full with a donut. Beside them, Tempest loudly munched on another one.

"Don't you dare! Wait, no distracting me! We were talking about how I'm doing you a huge favour by coming here," Jason said.

"You were talking about how you were doing me a favour. I was talking about how Leo is going to find out you consider me your best bro and not him," Percy corrected.

"Oh my gods, Percy, just let me have a donut," Jason sighed, exasperated.

"Fine, you big baby," Percy said, throwing a donut straight at Jason's nose. Jason caught it, giving Percy an unamused look before taking a bite. "Damn, I was really hoping you would end up accidentally snorting powdered sugar like cocaine."

"Why would you want that?" Jason asked, torn between feeling concerned and amused.

"To see what would happen?" Percy offered, shrugging like even he didn't know.

"I've heard enough horror stories about people in this city ingesting unhealthy materials without wanting to go down as the guy who snorted a donut," Jason said.

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me, don't drink the rain - it's toxic," Percy said.

Jason's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, it's what?"

"Toxic. Don't worry, skin contact is fine and so is some of it, like, landing in your mouth when you speak, but don't stick a straw into a puddle and slurp, okay?" Percy said.

"Why is the rain toxic? No, scratch that, I want to know why in Jupiter's name people are slurping up puddles," Jason said, vaguely horrified.

This was a mortal city. They had some nasty monsters here, sure, but it was still supposed to be a mostly regular place.

"Well, first off, the rain is toxic because of the shit ton of pollution in the air and water around here," Percy began, eating another donut.

"And the puddle drinkings?" Jason pressed.

"It's a bit of a story, actually. When I was eleven, Scarecrow had lined the pipes of a lot of residential areas with a new variant of fear toxin. Of course, once people figured it out, they had to stop drinking tap water and bathing and stuff. My adoptive dad, my older brother, and I spent a few days handing out recyclable water bottles to all of the families that couldn't afford to constantly be buying plastic ones from stores," Percy explained.

"But a bunch of people still drank rain water," Jason surmised, getting over his shock fairly quickly. You couldn't be a praetor of New Rome without some guts.

"Yup. They ended up getting hospitalized with how many pollutants they ended up drinking," Percy said.

"That's awful," Jason said.

Percy flashed a troublemaker's grin. "That wasn't even the worst incident of that year."

"I thought all the rumors around this place were exaggerated."

"Some are, some aren't. But Gotham can be really fucking awesome if you know where to look."

"And where's that?" Jason asked, with a pointed look at the city around them.

"Everywhere. You, Zappy McZapster - "

" - Literally what the fuck - "

" - Hear the phrase 'beautiful city' and probably think of New Rome, don't you?" Percy asked.

"I guess," Jason said, unsure where Percy was leading this. "But if you ask me, Camp Half-Blood is even more beautiful."

"Gotham's the polar opposite of both of those places," Percy said, gesturing to the stormy cityscape around them.

As Jason's eyes drifted across the Gotham skyline, he could see exactly what Percy meant.

New Rome was a series of quaint businesses, tucked into a secret valley and populated by less than five-hundred people. It was surrounded by rolling hills an guarded by a legion of soldiers that proudly upheld literal millennia of tradition. Camp Half-Blood was smack in the middle of a secluded forest, with strawberry fields that stretched for miles and campfires every night. The home of Greek demigods was tinier than New Rome was, but filled with a such a deep love that Jason couldn't help but admire.

Gotham, on the other hand, was massive. It consisted of the brutal edges of modern skyscrapers, mismatched with historic gargoyles and arches from the gothic period that the city seemed to adore so much. It seemed vicious and unforgiving, all harsh lines and shininess on top with a sinister underbelly.

"It looks like if someone made a battlefield into a city," Jason remarked.

"And don't you feel some level of satisfaction when you crush a dozen opponents with a single lightning strike?" Percy asked.

"Fights like that are usually pretty traumatizing," Jason deadpanned.

"Gotham is that too!" Percy said, beaming cheerily.

"I really hope that I don't need to explain to you why that's a bad thing," Jason said.

"It's obviously not good. But everyone here is proud to be a Gothamite, proud to be stronger for where they grew up," Percy stated. "You know, a lot of the things that make me weird by demigod standards are normal for Gotham. And a lot of the things that make me weird by Gotham standards are normal for demigods."

"Such as?" Jason asked.

Above them, Jason's lighting ricocheted through the clouds. Percy, unable to resist rising to the challenge, made the rain pour down on them even harder with a playful grin. Jason could see the waves of the nearby Gotham River swirl.

"Around here, powers and kill counts in the thousands are reserved for the Rogues. At Camp, being able to recite everyone's current location and medical history at any given moment is considered creepy," Percy said."

"That's what's considered normal for Gotham?" Jason asked, eyebrows raised.

Percy's eyes widened almost unnoticeably, before he relaxed. "Maybe that's just something in my family," he admitted.

"Isn't your mortal family the Waynes? Like, the guy who funded all those hospitals and schools and stuff?" Jason asked.

"He's also the guy that was caught on camera making out with a congressman's second wife," Percy said. His face was a fascinating combination of disgusted and proud.

"Neither of us can escape promiscuous father figures, huh?" Jason quipped, smiling bitterly.

The sky boomed with a thunder that wasn't of Jason's creation.

"Fuck you!" Percy shouted upwards, flipping the clouds above the bird.

The sky just crackled with lightning in response.

"We should get out before he decides to smite us," Jason suggested instead of trying to reprimand Percy for his impertinence. He was already intimately aware of how little that would accomplish.

"Sure. We're already on my apartment building," Percy agreed. "Bye, Tempest!"

Tempest stamped his hooves in goodbye (which was unusually polite of him - Jason figured the donuts put him in a good mood) before disappearing in a gust of wind.

Percy led Jason through the creaking metal door on the rooftop and down to his floor. As soon as they stepped through Percy's door, Mrs. O'Leary greeted them both with excited jumping and long licks on their faces. Jason gave her head pats as he placed his bag on the floor and allowed her to sniff at it curiously.

"Cute place," Jason commented, taking off his shoes and hanging up his coat. Percy's apartment was surprisingly tiny for someone who was the two-time Saviour of Olympus and son of a billionaire and the king of the seas. "Wouldn't your mortal dad help get you somewhere nicer, though?"

"Nah, he wouldn't," Percy said stiffly.

"Why not?" Jason asked.

"He doesn't really like that I'm back in Gotham, is all. Chiron is the one who gave me the money for this place. I've been picking up odd jobs here and there to cover anything that Camp funds aren't taking care of," Percy continued. His voice was overly casual.

Jason wisely dropped the subject, instead making a comment on how Lea's toys were scattered all over the floor, leaving it almost impossible to walk without tripping.

He was aware that Percy and his mortal dad had some…issues, but he didn't realize they were this rough. Before he had even gotten a chance to pack for Gotham, he had IM-ed Thalia to let her know that he wouldn't be at Camp Half-Blood. The minute he mentioned that he was going to go see Percy, she got a strange look on her face before telling Jason to be a little extra careful around him.

Thalia told him that Jason, having the same name as Percy's dead older brother, being in the same place that Percy ran away from after said older brother was murdered, would be a bit difficult for Percy to emotionally handle. She said that if she were in Percy's shoes and someone with Jason's name showed up while she was on a mission in Malibu, she would go insane. And all of that was made worse by the fact that Jason was able to reunite with Thalia. Percy wouldn't be able to get his brother back.

Thalia had also been very clear that Jason should not be the one to bring up Percy's brother, which Jason had no intentions of doing either way.

"Where's the spare room?" Jason asked.

"You think the money Camp Half-Blood makes as a strawberry farm is enough for me to get an apartment that big?" Percy snorted. "You're couch surfing, Blondike Bar."

"Gods damn it," Jason huffed.

Jason didn't bring attention to the fact that Percy had only been using nicknames like that for him. Percy was very fond of using nicknames in general, but he typically used a person's given name as well.

"And you'll be right next to Lea's dog bed too, so she can snore you a lullaby," Percy chirped.

"What a gracious host you are," Jason said, but his eyeroll was lighthearted and he was smiling.

"Hey man, we are brothers in arms and cousins. We fought each other in the middle of Kansas and dealt with my weirdo storm sister in the bottom of the Mediterranean. Xenia and hospitium don't apply here," Percy said, wagging a finger at him.

"Of course it doesn't," Jason said earnestly.

Hospitium were the Roman rules of hospitality, which were deeply central parts of Roman culture and even became part of the legal system in certain cases. Xenia, its Greek equivalent, was somewhat more relaxed, but just as important as hospitium was to the Romans.

Both New Rome and Camp Half-Blood practiced their respective hospitality rules to this day, given that they were both based in the idea that gods tended to show up in disguise to mortals and demigods, and someone showing improper manners to the mysterious stranger at their doorstep asking for a place to stay the night was an excellent way to get turned into an animal or suffer some other terrible fate.

Since Jason and Percy knew each other as well as they did, hospitium wasn't entirely necessary despite their roles as guest and host.

"Listen, Wolf Boy," Percy began, tone turning serious. "You remember how I told you about my older brother? His name was also Jason?"

Jason nodded, wary. "You've mentioned."

"He was killed in a Joker attack when I was twelve, and afterwards I ran away to Camp Half-Blood," Percy continued, not technically lying. He patted Lea on the head absentmindedly. "The Joker is in Arkham Asylum now, and I have my chance at vengeance."

"You want to kill him?" Jason asked, taken aback.

"I do," Percy confirmed.

Jason couldn't help but stare at Percy in shock. From the stories he had heard from Camp Half-Blood, in those months after he had regained his memories and was waiting on the Argo II to be finished so they could go to New Rome and begin the quest for Europe, Percy was deeply against murder.

During the Greeks' battle against Kronos in Manhattan, there had apparently been several demigods who had defected to the side of the Titans. A lot of campers had wanted them to be killed, especially since they were in active battle, but Percy would lose his mind at everyone who had blood on their weapons at the end of the day. He had even supposedly initiated a reformation program for all of the defected demigods after Kronos' defeat.

The only lives Percy was ever willing to take were those of monsters, and only because he knew that they would eventually reform. Beyond that, Percy never sought out a monster to kill.

Hell, one time Hazel had made a joke about wanting to murder Octavian, and Percy had laughed and said that he 'metaphorically shared the sentiment'. It was Octavian. Everyone wanted to murder him, even Jason.

"Doesn't that go against your beliefs?" Jason asked hesitantly.

"It does. It's one of the few things that I agree with Bruce about," Percy said.

"So then what's all this about? I mean, why bother telling me about this at all?" Jason asked.

"Because the Joker is guarded with a reasonably high amount of security for someone as dangerous as he is, and I need you to make sure that the Bats don't stop me before I can kill him," Percy said.

Percy looked into Jason's eyes pleadingly, and Jason suddenly understood why Piper had referred to this particular expression as Percy's baby seal eyes. That look was absolutely lethal, and Jason was certain that Percy had used it in the past to get whatever he had wanted out of his mortal billionaire father. It was almost like a visual charmspeak.

After a moment, Jason let out a resigned sigh. "I'll help you. Of course I'll help you. But you have to know that this is crazy, Percy."

"Thank you," Percy said earnestly, stepping forwards and hugging Jason once more. "And besides, it's the Joker. A Rogue that powerful will only be gone for a few years, tops. I'm after the satisfaction of it more than anything."

—

Gotham Academy Elementary
Gotham City, New Jersey
2003

Percy fiddled with the tie around his neck as his foot tapping restlessly on the shiny tiles of the school floors. It was his first day of fifth grade, and Percy could already tell that he wouldn't last long before he got expelled.

In his last school, it was because a bunch of teenagers, tall and mean highschoolers, called Percy a scummy bastard and said that his mom was a whore who couldn't even manage to keep Percy's dad in the picture. Percy kicked two of them in the shins, elbowed another in the gut, and punched the last hard enough to bruise for weeks. He was called to the principal's office and sent out before the day was even over. He packed his bags and took the train back to Manhattan, found Erin and the bodies, and ran.

So yeah. Percy wasn't all too enthused about having to start over. With his luck, he'd get expelled this time for having the audacity to go to such a hoity-toity school when the only reason he had the chance was because of Bruce, who was clearly also nervous about Percy going to school and was trying his best not to show it.

To Bruce's credit, he was good at hiding how stressed he was. His face was calm, his steps confident, and he smiled at Percy reassuringly whenever Percy's own mask slipped and his nerves showed. But Bruce had also had two phone calls with the school administration, a conference with the principal, and Percy had seen him doing background checks on all of his classmates on the Batcomputer just before patrol started a few nights ago.

It was comforting to know that Bruce was also a little worried. It made Percy feel like less of a wimp.

The Gotham Academy Elementary building was almost exactly what Percy had expected: a tiny version of the its middle and high school equivalents on the outside, and cartoon-like drawings of coloured construction paper on the walls and doors inside.

Percy's new homeroom was standing at the door to her classroom as she welcomed all her new students in. She was a sweet-looking lady with the same open face that every teacher he'd had wore before realizing that they were stuck teaching someone like Percy for a year. Her whole classroom was forest themed, with decorative bumblebees and flowers along the walls.

"Hi there! My name is Miss Bee. What's your name?" the teacher asked brightly, despite clearly recognizing Bruce.

Guess that explains the decorations, Percy thought. His gaze slid very judgmentally from Miss Bee to the rosy-cheeked bee on the wall beside her, and he raised a brow at her.

Miss Bee pretended not to notice.

"Bruce Wayne. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bee," Bruce said, his flirty Brucie persona dialled back since they were at school and not a gala.

"I'm Percy," he muttered.

"It's very nice to meet you both. Why don't you say goodbye to Dad and go find your name tag on your coat hook?" Miss Bee suggested.

"Adoptive dad," Percy corrected quietly.

And God, wasn't that an insane thing to have happened? Percy was now the third adopted son of Bruce Wayne, and he was certain that he had the most embarrassing story of how that came to be.

It was just a few weeks earlier on his birthday, right in the middle of the movie theatre as they watched Finding Nemo. Right as Marlin and Nemo were reuniting, Percy had looked from the screen to Bruce and blurted out, "Can you be my dad?" and then promptly wished that he was born a rock that didn't have the ability to speak whatsoever.

But Bruce, much to Percy's surprise, said that he'd love to be Percy's dad. The next day he called his team of fancy lawyers, and a week later Percy was being interviewed and being handed a fancy certificate that proudly declared him as Percy Jackson-Wayne; he'd chosen to keep his mom's last name and have Bruce's like what Jason and Dick did. According to Jason, adoption usually took any time between months and years, but Bruce was rich enough to make the process much quicker.

"Of course. Gotham Academy Elementary has dealt with unique situations like yours before," Miss Bee said, her eyes crinkling at the corners from her smile.

"Like with my brothers," Percy stated.

"Exactly," Miss Bee agreed. She clasped her hands in front of her chest in the way that a lot of the young-and-friendly type of teachers tended to do. "Now, why don't we say our goodbyes, and then your fifth grade adventure begins!"

Percy wrapped his arms around Bruce's waist and squeezed like a python, not fully relaxing until Bruce hugged him back.

"Bye," Percy said, face buried in Bruce's shirt.

"I'll see you in eight hours, Cuddlebird," Bruce said. He ran a hand through Percy's hair, smoothing it one last time before it eventually became wild again.

Just like that, Bruce was gone, as though a magic fairy had popped into the room and made Bruce go poof. Percy took a careful breath, spinning on his heel and going to look for his coat hook. It only took him about a minute of searching to find the letters that he was absolutely certain spelled out his first name, with the last name being a little harder to parse out. Now that his name was Jackson-Wayne, it would take a while to get used to writing and seeing his name like that.

He plopped his Batman-themed backpack on the little hook before going to search for his desk. Miss Bee had placed some paper and little sets of crayons on each desk before all the students arrived, so Percy grabbed the blue crayon and immediately started drawing some fish.

Percy was about halfway through drawing his second shark of the morning when he saw someone approaching his desk out of the corner of his eye.

"Hi," another kid in his class said. He was a little shorter than Percy was, and had a stupid haircut.

"Hi," Percy responded. He waited awkwardly for the other boy to say something, unsure how rude it would be to go back to colouring. Surely gala rules didn't apply to a classroom, right? Then again, it would probably be better to not risk it.

"You're Bruce Wayne's new kid, right?" the boy asked.

Percy felt his awkwardness sour into distaste. He didn't know whether this kid's parents put him up to trying to get on Bruce's good side or not, but either way the whole interaction screamed of a desire to climb even higher on the social ladder.

"So what if I am?" Percy demanded.

The other boy looked surprised. "I'm your neighbour, Tim."

"Oh," Percy said. His face felt hot with embarrassment. "Nice to meet you, Tim. You're parents are the Drakes, aren't they?"

"Mm-hm. It's nice that we'll be in the same class," Tim said.

"Yeah. Uh, where are you sitting?" Percy asked.

"Over there," Tim said, pointing halfway across the room.

"Oh, yeah, the seating plan must be alphabetical," Percy said.

"I saw your backpack in the coat hook section. I have the same one," Tim said.

Percy's lips twitched. "Yeah. Batman's the best."

Fifth grade was a tough, heartless world. Everyone always said that high school would be worse, but Percy was sure that nothing would be able to beat a kid from your class making fun of you for having the standard edition Batman backpack and not the limited edition version.

Social status in elementary school was determined by three things: how fast you can run in a race from the wall to the basketball hoops a handful of yards away, what foods you brought to lunch eat day, and the type of backpack you had. It was a lot like galas, where fashion went by quickly and having an uncool accessory made you a laughingstock.

When Percy had explained all this to Bruce when they went back-to-school shopping, Bruce tried to insist that Percy having a Batman backpack would be suspicious. Percy refused to let that stand, because if Bruce was really going to adopt Percy and raise him then Percy would be going to Gotham Academy until he graduated, which meant dealing with the same pool of rich kids up until senior year, and if he made a bad impression now then it would be like saying goodbye to ever getting a prom date! Did Bruce really want Percy to never get a prom date?

The answer was no. Bruce bought the Batman-themed backpack with a careful warning not to give anything away, while Jason laughed so hard he nearly cried.

"You want to know a secret?" Tim asked quietly, leaning forwards.

"What?" Percy whispered, leaning too.

"I think Batman's cooler than Superman," Tim said in a hushed voice.

"That's not a secret," Percy said at normal volume once more, frowning. "That's just a fact."

And he was saying that as someone who knew Batman pretty well, and had even briefly met Superman, which made Percy basically an expert on the subject.

Superman was pretty nice, from what little Percy saw of him. A mild-mannered and clumsy man by the name of Clark Kent had come to Wayne Manor about a month ago, carrying a stack files that needed to be given to Bruce in person in one hand, and an apple pie wrapped in tin foil in the other. He greeted Percy with a handshake and said that the apple pie was a sort of gift to welcome him into the hero/vigilante community, before going off to have a very serious grownup discussion with Bruce.

Despite the dinner invitation from Alfred, Mr. Kent (Percy only called him that because he was offered the chance to call him Uncle Clark and had to immediately shut that shit down, which made Bruce bark out a laugh at the sight of his colleague getting glared at by someone less than half his height) had left shortly after. Not even ten minutes later, Jason had turned on the news, and Superman was spotted halfway around the world saving victims of an earthquake.

But regardless of any of the awesome qualities that Superman had, his super suit was significantly less cool than Batman's suit, which made Superman backpacks look half as sick as the Batman ones. The choice was obvious, really.

Miss Bee suddenly stepped in front of the white board, closing the door once all the parents had trickled out the room. Tim took that as his cue to scramble to his seat.

"Alright, class, now that we're all here, why don't we get our very first day of fifth grade started?" Miss Bee asked. The class gave a variety of cheers in response; some enthusiastic, some screaming, some lacklustre, and some remaining quiet. Miss Bee picked up a crocheted bee from her desk and held it up for everyone to see. "First thing's first - we're going to play a game! When I pass you this bee toy, I want you all to say your name, your favourite colour, and what you want to be when you grow up."

When the bee eventually made its way to him, he obediently opened his mouth and listed off all of his facts. "My name is Percy Jackson-Wayne, my favourite colour is blue, and when I grow up, I want to be a...firefighter," Percy said, hesitating only because he had to come up with something on the spot that wasn't vigilantism.

He hadn't really thought about what he was going to be when he grew up, but he knew he would always want to be Blue Shrike no matter what. Maybe he'd do what Dick did, and be a cop so that he could help people during the daytime too. But Jason said that cops were pigs, and the only exceptions in the whole wide world were Dick and Commissioner Gordon.

"You're Wayne's new kid?" a boy two rows ahead of his asked.

"What about it?" Percy snapped, his hackles immediately going up.

"Let's keep the bee moving, children," Miss Bee said firmly.

Percy handed the crochet bee to the girl beside him, who suddenly shrieked and spun around to give the person behind her a watery glare. "You pulled my hair!"

"Did not!" declared the kid behind her.

"Both you, meet me in the hallway, right now," Miss Bee said firmly. The two kids looked at her, upset, before following her into the hall for a lecture.

The class was silent for a moment, when the same girl who asked if Percy was Bruce's kid suddenly piped up.

"You know, my dad says Bruce Wayne is an idiot," the boy said, looking at Percy curiously.

"Those are some bold words for someone who said they wanted to be a doctor when they grow up. You do know you have to be smart for that, don't you? You look like you don't even know your times tables," Percy snarled.

The entire class gasped, but Percy was more than preoccupied with blinking the red out of his vision.

"Hey, at least my parents collect fancy coins instead of street trash!" the boy shouted, standing up.

"At least Bruce actually wanted me, instead of getting stuck with me forever!" Percy yelled back.

The kid let out an enraged scream, picking up his pencil case and throwing it at Percy. Percy caught it easily, before throwing it back with twice as much force and hitting the boy in the face, right as Miss Bee and the other two kids came back from the hallway.

"Percy Jackson-Wayne!" Miss Bee hissed.

"I didn't do it!" Percy immediately defended, valiantly ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut.

"I saw you throw that, Percy," Miss Bee said, rushing over to comfort the boy as he cried.

"It's true," Tim said. Percy looked at him, surprised. Tim was either lying for him, or was an idiot who didn't even realize that Percy totally threw a pencil case at someone's face. Given the fact that they hardly knew each other, Percy was leaning towards him being an idiot. "Percy didn't do anything, he was colouring the whole time."

"Tim, why don't you take Henry to the nurses office?" Miss Bee suggested.

Tim huffed, rolling his eyes before grabbing the kid - Henry, apparently - and walking out the door with him. Miss Bee then faced Percy with deep disapproval in her eyes.

"I didn't do it," Percy insisted weakly.

"Nice try, Percy. It's hardly the first day of school and I already have to take someone to the principal's office," Miss Bee said, holding her hand out for Percy to take as she escorted him to his certain doom.

Percy gave her a glare so intense she seemed to flinch, refusing to take her hand.

"If you think I'm telling you what happened, then you're even stupider than that Henry asshole," Percy said, walking past her and heading to the door.

"Language, Percy," Miss Bee scolded.

"You're about to have me expelled. Why does swearing matter?" Percy snorted.

"You are a child. You should not even know these words," Miss Bee huffed, following Percy out of the classroom and into the hall. She briefly stopped by another room to ask another teacher to watch her class, having clearly learned her lesson from just moments earlier.

"Ass. Fuck. Shit," Percy recited.

"Percy," Miss Bee warned, but Percy could see her fight back her amusement. "That sort of language is deeply inappropriate in a classroom setting."

"I think Henry's existence is inappropriate in a classroom setting," Percy retorted.

"I suppose we'll have to see what the principal has to say about that," Miss Bee said calmly.

Guilt overwhelmed Percy so intensely he felt like he was going to drown in it. Not even a day and he already screwed up. And yet, somehow, Percy didn't feel as worried as he knew he should. Sure, Percy majorly fucked up and Bruce was bound to be even a little upset, but if Bruce was okay with him making mistakes as Blue Shrike, when the stakes were so much higher, then there was no way he would fly off the handle over Percy getting in trouble at school.

So when Percy was sitting in the row of rickety chairs outside of the principal's office, he was way less worried than all the times he did the exact same thing at all his previous schools. Percy was swinging his feet casually and tapping his thighs to one of the Britney Spears songs that Dick had given him for his birthday, instead of slouching in his chair and forcing back tears.

And Percy bet that Bruce would be way less made once Percy explained what happened in full.

Just then, Bruce walked in, looking unsurprised.

"Hey, B," Percy said, smiling at him.

"Percy," Bruce greeted. "It's a good thing you got in this mess as quickly as you did; I only had to do a u-turn instead of driving all the way back from Wayne Enterprises."

"I'm a very efficient troublemaker," Percy agreed.

"You seem awfully unapologetic considering Miss Bee already told me what happened," Bruce noted.

"The teacher stepped out of the room to discipline another student. While she was gone, that other kid called you an idiot and said that you collect street trash for kids. When I argued back, he threw the pencil case at me. I caught it, because he has noodle arms and couldn't throw a punch to save his life, and then threw it back. Miss Bee only caught that last part, though," Percy rattled off, almost like a patrol debrief.

Bruce softened almost imperceptibly. "I see. I hope you realize I don't need a knight in shining armour to come to my defense. I can handle a fifth-grader insulting me."

"I thought you said family sticks together," Percy said.

"I didn't intend for you to start throwing school supplies at your classmates when I told you that," Bruce sighed.

The principal's door opened, and a middle-aged man with bags under his eyes popped his head out the door.

"Mr. Wayne?" the principal asked. Bruce nodded. "Please bring your son in here with you."

Percy and Bruce exchanged glances before going inside the principal's office and taking a seat across from him, in the exact same chairs as the ones outside.

"Now, what seems to be the issue here?" Bruce said, adding a soft layer of Bruce charm to his smile.

"The issue is that I already have to deal with troublesome students, and it's not even lunchtime yet," the principal said.

"Troublesome seems a bit extreme, don't you think?" Bruce asked.

"He was spotted throwing a pencil case at another student by his teacher," the principal said flatly.

"And have you asked any of the other students what happened?" Bruce asked.

"I - no? Miss Bee already told me - "

"It's my understanding that Miss Bee was not there for the entirety of the incident," Bruce said. He then carefully raised an eyebrow. "Or did you not ask my son what happened?"

Percy held back the urge to do a little happy dance at Bruce so unashamedly calling Percy his son.

"Mr. Wayne, I don't think that's - "

"I thought that these issues had been sorted out when I sent Dick to this school," Bruce said, steamrolling over him with brutal efficiency.

Percy hid a laugh behind a fake cough. Bruce shot him an amused look out of the corner of his eye.

"They have been, Mr. Wayne," the principal stated nervously.

"Are you certain? Because from what Percy's told me, that isn't quite the case," Bruce said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"Here at Gotham Academy, we aim to teach children to not be violent," the principal said with desperation. It was almost funny how pathetic he looked.

"Then why isn't the aggressor of the situation here as well?" Bruce asked.

"He is," the principal said confusedly, eyes darting to Percy.

"Not my son," Bruce said. "The one who insulted him and first threw the pencil case. The one who provoked him into attacking back."

"Ah. Young Henry is still in the nurses office. Percy gave him a black eye," the principal said, finally seeming to settle into the conversation.

"I did not!" Percy scoffed.

"Excuse me?" the principal asked, looking shocked that Percy spoke up in a conversation that was about him.

"I didn't give him a black eye! I threw the pencil case at his face, sure, but only after he threw it at mine, and I didn't throw it hard enough to do that much damage," Percy said.

"Henry is very seriously injured - " the principal began.

Percy took a page out of Bruce's book and talked right over him. "Oh, please, was he stabbed or something? It was not that serious!"

"Percy," Bruce said warningly. Percy snapped his mouth shut. "Given that this Henry boy initiated the conflict, both verbally and physically, I think it's only fair that whatever punishment Percy receives is also applied to him."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne," the principal said, bowing his head slightly.

"So? What oh-so-fancy punishment am I getting?" Percy asked, impatient.

"A think a short paragraph on the importance of deescalating situations for the both of them will be sufficient," the principal said, placing his hands on his desk like he was satisfied.

"And my son will be provided the appropriate accommodations for his disability?" Bruce asked. It was more a statement than a question, and it was the closest he would get to being all Batman-y without the cowl.

"Of course," the principal repeated.

"Good," Bruce said. He turned to Percy. "You're not getting any TV time for the rest of the week."

Percy felt his jaw hit the floor. 'TV time' was the agreed-upon code for when they had to talk about patrol time in public.

"What? You can't do that!" Percy argued.

"I think you'll find I can," Bruce countered swiftly.

"But if I don't have TV time, then I'll go crazy. Please, Bruce," Percy begged.

"You can spend those hours helping Alfred out around the house or getting a head start on your classwork," Bruce suggested.

"Fine," Percy huffed, rolling his eyes and flopping back in his chair.

"Good. Don't get into any more fights," Bruce said, ruffling Percy's hair as stood.

"Bye, B. Sorry for making you come back," Percy said, waving goodbye.

"No worries, Percy. Try not to let it happen again, though," Bruce said, waving back and heading through the door.

"Can I go back to class now?" Percy asked the principal. He knew from experience that they didn't like it when he just up and left.

"I don't know, can you?" the principal asked, raising a grey-streaked brow.

"…yes?"

"Well, sure, you can, but you may not."

"Well, why not?"

"Because you haven't asked."

"I just did!"

"You asked if you can leave, not if you may."

"Same thing!" Percy cried, throwing his hands up in the air with frustration.

"No, they are different," the principal insisted.

"Fine! May I pretty please with a cherry on top go back to class?" Percy asked.

"Yes, you may," the principal said.

"Thank you," Percy said curtly, getting up and getting the hell out of that dingy office.

Jason would find it hilarious once Percy told him, he was sure. And then he would get pissed that Percy got in trouble at all, but there wasn't much anyone could do about that now.

At least I didn't get expelled, Percy thought with a smile.

Chapter Text

The Narrows
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

Percy felt, in his heart of hearts, that the best way to wake up his new guest would be by making a homemade water park. So at exactly seven in the morning, Percy used his powers to dump some cold water directly on Jason's face.

"Wh - huh - ack!" Jason stammered, wiping the water out of his eyes and glaring at Percy.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty! We've got a ton of work to get done today, so up and at 'em," Percy sang. He tapped Jason on the forehead to vanish all the water.

"Was that truly necessary?" Jason asked, looking very sick of Percy's shit. "I would have gotten up even if you didn't fucking waterboard me."

"If that's what you think waterboarding is, then Camp Jupiter needs to improve it's torture training methods," Percy remarked.

"Torture training?" Jason echoed, incredulous.

"And besides, if the smell of me making us both some omelettes for breakfast didn't wake you, then nothing would," Percy continued.

"Omelettes?" Jason asked, frustration giving way to intrigued hunger.

"Extra cheesy. With tons of peppers and spinach," Percy said, watching the smell of food sink its hooks into Jason and pull him towards the table.

"So, what's on the docket for today?" Jason asked, serving himself a heaping slice of eggy breakfast.

"After breakfast, I'll give you a tour of the city to make sure you have a lay of the land. We'll do some searching, and by then it should be lunch, where you will be exposed to the single most amazing fast food joint in America: Batburger," Percy said, doing jazz hands at the last word.

"Batburger?" Jason asked, looking at Percy like he wasn't sure if Percy was shitting him or not.

"Yup. No other city has a restaurant based on their local vigilante but Gotham," Percy said proudly. He poured himself a glass of water and used his powers to let it swirl inside the glass, just to dispel some of his excited energy.

"If you say so. How exactly do you determine which children are demigods, by the way?" Jason asked.

"Oh gods, don't get me started, Blondie-Bear," Percy griped. "You can do the usual method of having a satyr sniff out someone who's around the age of twelve, but if you're trying to find a demigod younger than that, then a satyr won't be too much help. A bunch of monsters have better noses than satyrs do, which is what leads to the high infant morality rate in demigods, and is why I brought Lea with me. She has a stronger sense of smell than most due to being a hellhound, but even that's not always the most accurate."

"Why not recruit other monsters?" Jason asked.

"Tyson and Ella are the only other ones we can rely on, and they're up to their ears in trying to copy down the entire Sibylline Books, create armour for demigods, and run a bookstore," Percy explained.

"Just our luck," Jason remarked, scraping up his last few bites of omelette.

"Precisely. So everyone else in the country looking for younger demigods has to rely on the third method: doing a whole bunch of research. And if that fails, they have to try to surreptitiously gently cut suspected half-bloods with their divine weapons to see if they work," Percy said.

"I'm sorry, we have a bunch of soldiers all over the country trying to find other demigods by stabbing children?" Jason asked, looking at Percy like he was crazy.

"They find other demigods by gently cutting them as a final form of confirmation, and that's only assuming their mortal parent wasn't able to give a definitive answer on any divine heritage," Percy corrected. He stood up and placed their dishes in the sink to deal with later. Well, he probably wouldn't deal with them later, and they would build up in his sink until he ran out of plates, but that was a problem for later in the week.

"Right, because that's so much better," Jason said judgmentally.

"In all fairness, trying to locate a demigod through the usual signs alone is pretty tough. Take ADHD and dyslexia, for example. Most demigods have them, sure, but there are exceptions, like Frank. Or, there are people like you, who have one but not the other. Not to mention, not every person with ADHD and dyslexia is a demigod in the first place. There have been tons of false calls of ordinary mortals with those disabilities being flagged as half-bloods," Percy explained.

"And then you add in all the troubles of getting a diagnosis…" Jason trailed off, eyes widening with understanding.

"Not everyone with can get a diagnosis, which means that using ADHD and dyslexia as a method of finding demigods leaves everyone without one behind," Percy continued, sighing in frustration. "And it's like this with every other typical sign too. Raised by a single parent? That happens more often than you'd think. A history of getting in trouble in class? Some kids are just mischievous or have behaviour issues. Records that they've claimed they saw a bunch of magical creatures around them? Could be a kid with a vivid imagination."

"Gods of Olympus, no wonder this is so hard," Jason groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Right? If we want to guarantee earlier training and safety for demigod children, we'll need to find some way to consistently find these kids. But the criteria is so wishy-washy that's it's almost impossible," Percy complained tiredly.

"Guess that explains why you needed my help," Jason said.

"Well, I'll also need your help for what I'm going to be doing this afternoon," Percy said. "We'll only be searching in the morning, but after lunch, we'll do that thing I mentioned last night."

"You mean me distracting the local vigilantes so you can murder a crazy guy in an asylum?" Jason asked dryly. He seemed to have gotten over any potential concerns he had about that overnight, and was now ready to tease the hell out of Percy.

"Avenge my brother's tragic murder, yes," Percy said dryly, nodding.

"Right. And how exactly do you want me to play decoy?" Jason asked, resting his crossed arms on the table.

"You're going to walk around all the spots I show you in Gotham, making sure to act slightly suspicious. You can interview people too, if you'd like, but be vague about it. Garner some attention, but not too much. It's daytime, which means it's entirely possible that the Signal will be the one keeping tabs on you, but it's just as likely that you will be followed by one of the other Bats in civilian disguise," Percy said.

"And if they approach me?"

"They might. Whoever makes contact may be a Bat, but could also be a con artist trying to take your wallet. Either way, you should stay alert while acting natural."

Jason nodded. "Can I use my powers?"

"Be subtle about it. If they realize you're meta, you'll be watched even more closely than before," Percy warned.

"And you want me to do that all afternoon?" Jason asked.

"Yup. The cameras will be on us during the morning, and I'll be able to slip out of their notice for later in the day. If you can, try to make sure you stay in their sight, especially when you do something suspicious," Percy replied.

"I'm just letting you know now that I won't do anything illegal," Jason said.

"I…wouldn't ask you to?" Percy asked, confused.

"Percy, I am literally helping you in your murder scheme," Jason said, voice flat as paper.

"Well, sure, but it's the Joker. I'm doing the world a service, really," Percy said, face burning as he realized, oh yeah, what he was planning on doing was totally a crime.

"I know you are. But that doesn't change the fact that this isn't really allowed in the eyes of the law," Jason said. He squeezed Percy's arm comfortingly.

"I have to do this," Percy said, words too real for his taste. "I have to kill him. This is my chance."

"And I'll help you," Jason assured him.

They stood from the table and got changed, taking turns in the tiny shower as they continued to plan. Percy carefully explained how crucial it was that Jason didn't talk about anything mythical or divine outside of Percy's apartment. When Jason argued that the Mist would mask their speech, Percy countered that the Mist was an unreliable douche bag that was just as likely to cover their asses as it was to sell them out.

"Gotham's full of ears. I don't want anyone to think we're up to weird shit," Percy explained, stepping out of the shower. After going on quests together and living in the barracks of Camp Jupiter, they were both mature enough to deal with a lack of modesty.

"I mean, aren't we?" Jason asked, hesitant.

"Nope!" Percy said, shifting his voice into something lighter and shyer. "My name is Pete Jeffries, an NYU psychology major who's in Gotham for his internship at Arkham Asylum. And you, my good friend, are Joshua Graham, a friend I made in New York."

"Are the code names really necessary? No one here knows who I am," Jason said, eyes flitting about as he quickly familiarized himself with the area. He wouldn't be as good as a Bat, of course, but Jason was damn good in a fight and could use all the skyscrapers in Gotham to his easy advantage.

"Do you know the first thing that happens when people look you up on the internet?" Percy asked.

"That's that thing that mortals use, right? Like a library but on a computer?" Jason asked.

Percy facepalmed. "Yes, basically. And when someone uses the internet to find your name, the first thing they see is a bunch of news articles about how your body was never recovered. After that is a lot of stuff about how your mom died. And after that is the creepy conspiracy forums talking about how you're secretly alive and was kidnapped by the government to work as a child spy in Russia."

"Ah. I see," Jason said, looking mildly uncomfortable before he washed it away with a teasing look. "You know, with all the effort you go through to keep us hidden, I'm surprised you aren't more worried about any secret wiretaps in here."

"Oh, don't worry, I already did a sweep before you woke up," Percy said casually, slipping into his clothes.

"Bro. I was kidding," Jason said, looking at Percy strangely.

"And I wasn't," Percy replied.

"Gods, you're such a paranoid bastard. Is this why you have a sword made of mortal steel? For the extremely unlikely scenario where you need to fight a mortal?" Jason asked.

"Extremely unlikely is just another way of saying that something is still possible," Percy recited. It was something he was used to explaining to everyone who asked about his second blade.

"I repeat: paranoid bastard," Jason said, rolling his eyes.

Percy just grinned smugly. Sure, he was a paranoid bastard, but he was an alive one.

"Speaking of paranoia, I wanted to give you this," Percy said, fishing a tiny switchblade out of his bedside table.

Jason just stared at him judgmentally for a moment, before taking the knife and putting it in his pocket alongside his imperial gold coin.

Soon enough, Percy, Jason, and Lea were all getting ready to leave. Lea, in particular was already pawing at the door, ready to go and find some demigods. Percy hooked Lea's leash to her collar and led them out of the apartment, ensuring that he locked the door behind him.

Percy took him on a tour through the Narrows, then the financial district, and later across the bridge to the Upper East Side.

"What's the deal with all the flying buttresses, by the way?" Jason asked, gracefully jumping over a pool of unknown liquids on the sidewalk.

"They're here for the sick ass aesthetic. Plus, they're pretty fun to do parkour on," Percy replied.

"You think I could fly clean through that one?" Jason asked, pointing to an ornate flying buttress that was slightly cracked.

"You'd get your thick forehead stuck and I'd have to break it to get your out," Percy said with a shake of his head.

"Rude," Jason said, offended.

Percy just laughed and took Jason on the rest of the tour of Gotham, with Lea obediently sniffing for any demigods and unfortunately finding nothing.

Every time Percy saw someone looking at him and Jason a little too closely, he would give them his best Bat-glare-meets-Lupa-glare, and they would back off. On more than one occasion, Percy winked at the security cams of storefronts that he just knew Babs was watching him through.

"The only places that you aren't allowed to go to without me are Crime Alley, the Bowery, and Amusement Mile, okay?" Percy asked, as he and Jason strolled right past the entrance to Crime Alley.

Jason frowned at the implication that he couldn't handle those areas. "Why not?"

"Crime Alley and the Bowery are easily the most hostile parts of the city to outsiders. You'll make it two steps in before everyone nearby realizes you're fresh meat and tries their luck. Then, you would either fight back and reveal to anyone watching that a powerful outsider is out and about the worst parts of Gotham, or you wouldn't fight back and get robbed or worse," Percy explained.

"What about Amusement Mile?" Jason asked.

"Joker turf," Percy said simply, and the son of Jupiter quickly nodded with understanding.

"It's about noontime. You said you'd be buying lunch?" Jason asked.

Percy let him change the subject. "I said that I would be showing you the best restaurant in the city. I made no promises about paying for your food."

"C'mon, Percy, I didn't bring American dollars," Jason whined.

"Why? You knew you would be going to a mortal city, why the hell you only bring coins?" Percy asked.

"Because I rarely need them! I don't spend much time in cities like this," Jason explained.

"Fine, I'll pay. But only because I'm nice," Percy said.

"Thank you," Jason grumbled, visibly biting back a retort.

Percy narrowed his eyes at Jason, certain that the only reason he was playing nice instead of jumping into an argument was because he felt somewhat guilty. And Percy was confident that Jason's guilt was some misplaced sense of responsibility about the fact that he, as Thalia's dead brother named Jason, got to see his family again, and that Percy could never have the same.

It made a weird mixture of embarrassment and gratitude stir in Percy's gut, and he steadfastly refused to deliberate on that any further, instead choosing to excitedly pull Jason into the nearest Batburger.

"I…didn't anticipate such intense decorations," Jason said, eyes roving over what was essentially a Batman-McDonald's lovechild.

"It's the second-best part of the Batburger experience," Percy said factually.

"And the first?" Jason asked, raising a brow.

"The themed foods," Percy replied with a grin.

"Hi, welcome to Batburger, how can I help you?" the cashier chirped from behind the counter. Their smile drooped when they noticed Mrs. O'Leary. "I'm sorry, but this is a pet-free space."

"Oh, I totally would leave her outside, but then she'll start eating the nearby cars, and then I'll have to perform surgery on her again, and I really don't want to do that for the fourth time," Percy lied, smiling casually.

"Fourth?" the cashier whispered, intrigued and disgusted, while Jason merely glanced skeptically at him.

"Dogs, am I right? Ooh, there's now a triple Batburger combo meal," Percy said.

"Joker-ized fries?" Jason read off the board, looking horrified.

"It's this spice coating that's so good, bro. Like, the Joker's an awful piece of shit and all, but his fries are addictive," Percy said, almost salivating.

For a brief moment, he longed for those early mornings at the end of patrol, when B was feeling indulgent sometimes took him and Jay to Batburger. He longed for those quiet moments of peeling off his gloves to avoid getting burger grease on them and dropping paper wrappers and plastic cups into a dumpster two stories below where they were sitting on a roof or lamp post. He longed for those playful laughs as he tugged at B's cape as he pleaded for him to spend the extra few dollars for an ice cream sundae.

Gods above, he had missed Gotham.

"I'll take the classic Batburger with no onions, a side of Joker-ized fries, and a Mr. Freezie slushy," Percy ordered.

"And, uh, I guess I'll try the Robin nuggets and regular fries?" Jason added, though it sounded more like a question.

"Anything else you'd like with that?" the cashier asked.

"No, thank you," Percy said, handing over a stack of cash.

The cashier looked at him like he was insane for not having a credit card, and Percy could see them weighing the odds of the money being laundered. "This establishment is supposed to be in honour of the vigilantes who guard our city. I should probably report you," they said.

"I'll tip you thirty percent if you don't," Percy said with a charming smile.

"Dude," the cashier said flatly.

"I can see into the kitchen from here, you know. I can already see ten health code violations, though I wonder what would happen if a proper inspection were to occur," Percy continued.

"Fine. But if I get interrogated by the Batman, I'm ratting you out immediately," the cashier agreed. The little printer made an unhealthy-sounding buzz as it spat out Percy's receipt.

"As you should," Percy replied, walking to the booth in the corner.

The moment they sat down, Jason blurted, "Did you just bribe and blackmail that guy?"

"Of course I didn't," Percy said, sliding over to the wall to let Lea have a seat.

"You did. You bribed and blackmailed someone who works at a restaurant themed after the city's very notorious vigilantes. We are so screwed," Jason said, panicking.

"Oh, relax, would you? I know the Bats, and they're chill. Sometimes. Actually, not very often, but they won't fuck around with us for paying for our burgers in cash," Percy said.

"Okay. That's good," Jason sighed, seeming to calm down.

"They will fuck around with us for taking children to undisclosed safehouses across the country without their knowledge, as well as the fact that Lea here is magical," Percy said. He stared at Jason meaningfully. "We, of course, are not metas, but are assistants of this metahuman society."

Jason blinked, before swallowing and nodding quietly.

They continued the rest of their meal in peace, with Percy grinning with smug pride when Jason admitted that the food was incredible - synthetic and greasy and fatty enough that you could feel your cells whine for actual nutrients, but still so damn delicious.

When they finished, leaning back against their seats and licking the salt off their fingertips, Percy caught Jason watching him with tense concern when he thought Percy wasn't looking.

"So, what now?" Jason asked, fiddling with the straw of his Pepsi.

"You can take Lea on a more thorough walk throughout the city, to try and pursue any more leads. She can get you back to the apartment in case anything happens. I will be talking a walk of my own," Percy said evenly.

"You aren't taking Lea with you?" Jason asked with a frown.

"Nah," Percy said, lips pulling into something of a smile as he stood up and gathered all their trash, dumping it into the bin. "I don't want to cheat at this. I can get in and out without needing anyone else."

"Are you sure?" Jason pressed, eyebrows furrowed.

"That fuckstain isn't worth the effort. I'm just going to walk through the front door and do what I need to," Percy stated. He handed Jason Lea's leash and petted her absentmindedly.

"And if I need to come get you?" Jason asked.

"I'll be gone a day at the absolute longest. Anything past that is cause for concern and a search," Percy instructed in a hushed tone.

"Okay," Jason said, sighing nervously. "Okay. Good luck."

"Thanks, man," Percy said.

Out of either impulse or habit, Percy quickly hugged Jason before stepping back and heading out of the Batburger with a wave goodbye.

It was a half-hour walk from the Batburger to Arkham Asylum. After fifteen minutes, though, Percy stopped, knelt down on the street, and slid into a manhole. The sewage water was filthy, but gave Percy an extra boost of strength regardless. He could see better underground like this, extending his senses to see the map of sewers and feel the way the water flowed throughout the city.

He closed his eyes and felt the various levels of pipes and drains of what made up the mental hospital, and steadily walked towards Arkham while probing to figure out which cell belonged to the Joker.

Contrary to what he told Jason, going in and out wouldn't be the entirety of his plan. The Joker had many under his employ who would try to get him out, as well as a large amount of fanatics willing to break him out in exchange for his favour. The specific location of the Joker within Arkham Asylum was unknown to the public; the only people with that information were the guards and administration of Arkham, the Joker's psychiatrists, and the Bats.

He sifted through the building, from the bathrooms with sinks, toilets, and showers attached to each bedroom, to the chemicals being poured down the drains in the lower floors, to the dishwashers in the kitchens. Through sensing the chemical makeup of the different streams of water rushing inside the walls and beneath the floors of Arkham, Percy finally managed to locate the Joker's cell as the one with touches of powdery cosmetics, strong sedatives, and shimmering gold powder.

Percy's eyes snapped open.

Found you.

Percy plucked the backpack he'd dropped here a week prior off the floor, drying it with his powers before pulling out a pair of glasses and a new set of clothes. They were more formal compared to the jeans and graphic t-shirt Percy had worn all morning, consisting of slacks and a button-up shirt that he quickly changed into.

He fixed the glasses on his face and ruffled his hair into something appropriately dorky, before pulling one of the many fake IDs he had made back before he returned to Gotham. He double-checked that it was the correct one before sliding it into his pocket.

Lastly, just as a precaution, he grabbed the bag of Starbursts and the candle he bought, unwrapping one before tossing it into the flames. A single piece of chewy candy, melted via a Bath and Body Works candle in the sewers, was a shitty offering to a god, Percy knew. But he was on something of a time crunch, and he didn't necessarily need a divine blessing for this.

"O Nemesis, goddess of retribution, please aid me in my quest to avenge my brother's death," Percy murmured over the piddling flame.

The single lemon Starburst vanished, the flame disappearing into a wisp of smoke, and Percy could only hope that that meant Nemesis accepted his offering. Hopefully she wasn't too upset about everything that happened with Ethan.

He emerged out of a different manhole, one that was positioned next to a broken security camera in an alleyway, and immediately hunched his posture and toyed with his fingers bashfully. His steps were hesitant and unsure as he made his way back to Arkham Asylum, this time above ground.

The only person who cared to notice that Percy stepped into the building at all was the receptionist.

"Hi, I'm, uh, I'm Pete Jeffries?" Percy stuttered. His eyes were solidly kept on the desk separating him from the receptionist as he stood curled in on himself. "I'm the new intern. I'm here to shadow Dr. Rowan?"

"I'll need to see some proof of identity," the receptionist said.

"Oh, right, of course, just give me a second," Percy said, fingers fumbling as he pulled out the fake driver's license. He dropped it on the floor, and he shot the receptionist a nervous smile as he picked it up while cursing his butterfingers. When he handed it over, he pushed his glasses up his nose.

It took the receptionist only a few seconds to prove that he was, in fact, Pete Jeffries, before telling him to take a seat while he waited for Dr. Rowan to show up.

That was way to easy, Percy thought incredulously. No wonder so many criminals broke out of here.

Then again, it had taken Percy months to prepare for this moment. He had had to make the fake identity before he ever came to Gotham, which required using Rachel's money since he didn't exactly have a ton of resources for making false paperwork.

And since he needed to print off a fake driver's license, birth certificate, high school diploma, and proof that he was going to Gotham University and doing well enough in his classes to qualify for an internship, Rachel had to do a lot of work to convince her dad to look the other way while she abused his funds. In exchange for Rachel doing all of that, Percy had to pose for multiple paintings and sculptures of hers.

After that, it was a matter of finding the dates and times of when he was going to pull it all off. Percy had to ask Jason to come to Gotham, both to help him locate demigods in the city and to keep Bruce and the rest of the vigilantes off his trail while he killed the Joker.

Maybe breaking into Arkham is actually harder than I thought, Percy realized belatedly. But they should still be able to notice a fake ID. That's just poor observation skills.

From there, was all laughably simple.

The doctor Percy was meant to shadow arrived, showed him around all the spots in Arkham he was allowed access to, and explained how things were run.

Percy spent most of the afternoon doing actual psychologist intern shit, which he found boring as all hell but had spent three days in a library near Camp Half-Blood studying for, and was happy that the effort paid off even if he was still woefully underprepared.

At some point, he asked for the directions to the staff bathroom, which he knew was close to the corridor that led to the lower floors filled with more dangerous patients. The doctor pointed him in the right direction, and Percy unfortunately tripped over his lab coat and fell into a walking-by security guard.

A rush of stumbling apologies fell out of Percy's lips, and the guard was understanding and laughed it off easily, clearly sensing that Percy was new around here. And if Percy's hands happened to slip into the security guard's pockets and grab the keycard that grants access to the lower floors, then that surely was a happy accident.

He continued to walk, past the bathroom and towards the stairs that took him down several flights. He kept one hand on the wall, feeling the pipes to navigate through the increasingly unwelcoming floors of Arkham Asylum.

A tap of the keycard and a single beep let Percy into the room, though not the cell. The Joker was in a straitjacket, tied to a chair in a reinforced glass cylinder cell in the middle of the room. The only way to enter the cell itself was through a door with multiple locks, including eye and fingerprint scans that Percy wouldn't be able to bypass unless he spent several more months or even years working on this.

A shame the people designing this cell - with Bruce almost definitely being one of them - didn't consider Percy's demigod strength.

"Well, lookie here," the Joker said, eyes sharp. His voice was raspy, but from disuse or constant cackling, Percy didn't know. "Are you my new shrink? Here to see if you can cure me?"

"Does death count as a cure?" Percy asked, dropping his stutter and standing tall.

His blood was rushing, singing with the feeling of finally, after so many years, being close to avenging Jason's death. His brother's memory could finally be at peace, and the moment Nico or Hades would be able to find his soul, he could be revived.

"A rather philosophical question for a wannabe geezer in a loony bin. Maybe you oughtta be on the other side of the glass, boy," the Joker said with a laugh.

Percy stripped himself of the lab coat and glasses, letting both of them fall to the floor. "Are those your last words?" he asked, meeting the Joker's eyes.

"Perseus Jackson-Wayne?" the Joker whispered, finally recognizing him. He burst out laughing, tilting his head back and cackling so hard tears began to grow in the corner of his eyes.

"Who else would I be?" Percy asked.

The Joker only wheezed a laugh, taking a moment to gather his voice. "Oh, this is rich! Is the Double Saviour here to kill me?"

"No. I'm just here to hang out with you," Percy deadpanned, pulling Riptide out of his pocket.

"Well, then that's even better! Why don't we have a fun little chat about our dear old dads, hm?" the Joker asked, smile stretched unnaturally wide.

Percy's hand spasmed around where he was clutching Riptide. "You don't get to fucking talk anymore. I'm killing you, now."

"Oh, but Perseus, it'll hardly last a full presidential term! You of all people should now that," the Joker whined, sticking his red-stained lower lip out in an exaggerated pout.

"I'm sure your sycophants can catch you up on whatever you miss," Percy said lowly.

"How considerate. You truly are the gods' favourite, aren't you? A real bastion of goodness," the Joker stated, laughing and sneering and weeping with joy.

"I broke into a mental facility to kill my brother's murderer. Don't mistake me for a saint," Percy said.

Without wasting another moment, he pulled back his fist and punched through the glass. It shattered like the wafer-thin faux glass in action movies, splintering into a million pieces for the stunt double to dive through in slow-motion. Shards nicked at the Joker's face and scraped his straitjacket, but he didn't stop cackling long enough to notice. There were pieces digging into Percy's knuckles, sending blood trickling down his fingers, but his heart was racing and the adrenaline was pumping through him so quickly that he didn't care.

"Don't tell me you're truly going to do it!" the Joker shouted around his crazed laughs. "What about Daddy Batsy's no-kill rule?"

"I am not either of my fathers. And you cannot die for good," Percy said simply, furiously.

He flicked the cap off of Riptide with his thumb, unsheathing the blade. He slashed across the Joker's neck, separating his head from his body cleanly. His body melted into shining gold dust, trickling down the drains and into the sewers below, leaving only his head behind.

Percy deliberated for only a second before picking up the head and deciding to keep it. Maybe he'd keep the spoil of war as a souvenir of his revenge. Maybe he'd mail it to Olympus for old time's sake.

As he walked out of the lower floors, holding the Joker's head by his green hair, he couldn't stop the soft smile on his face.

Jason, I have avenged you. Are you proud of me?

—

The Watchtower
Earth Exosphere
2004

Diana took one look at Batman's newest child, Blue Shrike, and immediately started panicking.

Not visibly, of course. From the outside, she simply greeted the Blue Shrike and Robin with a smile, before turning her attention to Batman as he stepped to the front of the meeting room. But internally, Diana was doing everything in her power to avoid slamming her head into the wall.

Just less than fifty years. That's how long her uncle lasted before he betrayed the pact he and the rest of the Big Three made and had a demigod child.

Diana knew of two reasons why the oath of the Big Three was made. First, was the official one, which was that children of the sky, sea, and dead were too dangerous, and that both World Wars were evidence that such an oath was necessary.

She didn't disagree with this, of course. Diana herself was proof that children of Zeus wielded extreme power, and likewise were capable of extreme danger. Not every child born of the Big Three was fortunate enough to be raised by an immortal warrior mother on an isolated island that allowed her to explore her great abilities in safety. It was only reasonable that the Big Three would eventually end up doing something regarding the issue that was their children accidentally causing mass destruction in crowded cityscapes and farmlands filled with multiple communities' source of food.

The second reason was the prophecy of a half-blood of the Big Three reaching the age of sixteen and possibly bringing the end to the rule of Olympus, which Diana only knew of because her father trusted her. The fact that there was a ten-year-old child of Poseidon standing in the Watchtower was a horrible omen.

In six short years, Olympus could be demolished, and whether or not that was the case was dependent on the child in front of her, who was currently playing with the hem of his cape as he followed Batman into the meeting room.

Then Diana realized that the prophecy child was being mentored and raised by Batman, and her consternation increased tenfold.

Zeus needed to hear about this. Immediately.

"Take a seat, boys," Batman said, and his two birds dropped into their chairs.

While Robin sat beside her, Blue Shrike sat down next to across the table from her and right beside Aquaman, who smiled at him.

And just like that, Diana felt a headache start to build.

Blue Shrike being a son of Poseidon meant that he would technically have rank over Aquaman, despite being unaware of this fact. Diana could already see the panic and awe swirling in Aquaman's eyes. The king of the seas had another princeling.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Blue Shrike," Aquaman said from his place across the table.

"Nice to meet you too," Blue Shrike said. His voice hadn't even dropped yet. "Can you help me with my science project?"

"Blue Shrike," Batman said in warning.

"Wait, isn't that due tomorrow?" Robin asked.

The young vigilante was silent for a long moment before meekly piping up. "…No?"

"Blue Shrike," Batman repeated disapprovingly.

"But B, it's a project about ocean ecosystems! Why would I bother going going to the library for research when I could ask the ultimate ocean expert?" Blue Shrike asked, gesturing to Aquaman.

"You didn't know we would be doing this mission until yesterday. When exactly was your science project assigned?" Batman asked, voice low.

"Two weeks ago," Robin said, before Blue Shrike could open his mouth and lie.

Batman let out an exhausted huff. "Aquaman, would we be inconveniencing you if you helped him with his science project after the mission?"

"Not at all, Batman," Aquaman said, smiling slightly.

Diana narrowed her eyes at him. Would Aquaman tell Blue Shrike of his divine heritage and role as a prince of the seas? Would he kidnap the boy, taking him to Atlantis before Zeus had the chance to do anything about it?

She gritted her teeth, but kept her expression pleasant.

"Thank you, Aquaman!" Blue Shrike said, grinning.

Batman launched into the mission briefing, explaining that Earth was being slowly infiltrated by aliens who aimed to take over the planet by using cargo ships to spread their infectious, mind-controlling technology from their landing point near Cape Verde. They were advanced enough to slip past the many methods of detection the Justice League had to prevent such issues, but not so clever as to avoid basic inspection protocols of the countries they had attempted to infiltrate.

Diana was brought in for her heightened strength and her ability to interrogate the aliens with her Lasso of Truth. Aquaman was there for his knowledge and powers regarding the water, which was where the majority of the battle itself would be taking place. Blue Shrike and Robin would be sneaking through the tiny vents and corridors of the alien's cargo ships, gathering information and planting bombs to destroy the technology. Batman, of course, was present for his leadership and planning, as well as to supervise his children.

"Any questions?" Batman asked, once he had finished detailing where everyone was supposed to be at each moment.

Blue Shrike's hand shot up in the air like the schoolboy he was, and Batman nodded to him. "Can me and Robin put the bombs on the boats themselves, or just on the cargo?" he asked.

"Robin and I," Robin corrected.

"No it's not," Blue Shrike said.

"It is too, you dummy," Robin said, reaching across the table to flick his younger brother on the ear.

"Hey!" Blue Shrike whined, swatting Robin's hand away.

Batman simply looked extremely tired, not bothering to stop their fighting.

"Why do you ask, young one?" Diana asked, trying to get their meeting back on track.

"Because if I put the bombs on the bottom and sides of the boat, the whole thing will go underwater, but if I just stick them to the cargo, then it'll do less damage. The aliens could just pick up whatever cargo isn't exploded and try again another time," Blue Shrike explained.

"I wouldn't recommend doing that," Aquaman said.

Blue Shrike frowned. "Why not?"

"The chemicals in the alien weapons are most likely toxic. If they are spilled into the ocean, much of the life in the area will die," Aquaman said.

"Then we can't spill any," Blue Shrike declared, outraged at the thought of killing fish.

Diana exchanged a glance with Aquaman, raising her brow as if daring him to deny that the boy is a child of Poseidon. Aquaman only glared at her in response, before turning his attention back to Blue Shrike and encouraging that evident and inherent love of marine life.

Is this the child that you will tell your father of, knowing that it will bring his death? Diana asked herself, before forcing herself to refocus.

"Meet me at the rendezvous point in one hour, and no later," Batman said.

Robin and Blue Shrike obediently trotted after him, waving goodbye to Diana and Aquaman, who both lingered behind. The second all three Gothamites were out of sight, they dropped their smiles.

"You will not be reporting anything to the Sky King," Aquaman snarled.

"My father deserves to know that the Earthshaker broke his oath," Diana replied with equal ferocity.

"You have no proof that the boy is a son of the Earthshaker," Aquaman said.

Diana scoffed. "Oh, don't patronize me. You saw him, the way he talks and walks and breathes and looks. That is my uncle's son."

"What about Triton? Amphitrite? Kymopoleia? One of the Nereids? What if this boy is a brother of Achilles, and his mother is Thetis? What if he is merely the child of a local river god?" Aquaman demanded.

"His name is Perseus Odysseus Jackson! His mortal mother surely knew - " Diana began heatedly.

"What lover of the Earthshaker would name his child after a son of the Sky King and a mortal that he despised?" Aquaman interrupted.

"And what of his smile? That was the grin of the Earthshaker as he sends fleets of men to their dooms," Diana countered.

"That was the smile of a little boy who has hardly seen a full decade of life!" Aquaman insisted, throwing his hands into the air with exasperation. "He is but a child, Wonder Woman. A child who is already learning to do good in this world from a man who we both respect greatly."

That gave Diana pause.

It was undoubtedly a terrifying thought to think that the child who was prophesied to doom Olympus was being trained in the methodical and cutthroat way that Batman tended to do with those he took in. But Diana knew Bruce well, and trusted him even more. He had raised Nightwing, who was a shining beacon and golden standard for all younger heroes, as well as the new Robin.

Bruce was wholly human, and yet he was a kind man, who did not need powers or magic to want to do good by the world. Poseidon had nearly unlimited power and the entire oceans under his command, but his morals shifted like the sand beneath his tides. A child born of the latter and raised by the former could be disastrous, or could be a force of great heroism.

"Do you remember the daughter the Sky King had with that mortal actress?" Aquaman asked her softly.

"Of course I do. She was my half-sister, technically. She died three years ago and became the pine tree guarding Camp Half-Blood," Diana said.

Diana had heard very little of Thalia Grace. She didn't even know the girl's existence until after news had reached of her death. A twelve-year-old girl, killed on the cusp of reaching asylum and becoming an enchanted tree. The news had saddened her when she heard it, when she realized that she had a younger sister out there who died because their father was incapable of celibacy.

"Do you remember those two children of the Lord of the Dead? The ones from Italy, before the pact was made?" Aquaman continued.

"Yes," Diana said curtly.

The news of her father slaughtering all the remaining offspring of the Big Three hadn't reached Themyscira until months after it had happened. At the time, Diana had only spared a few moments of quiet grief to think of all the young children who were killed before they could understand why.

But after so many years of working with mankind and protecting every life on earth that she could, the thought of telling Zeus about Blue Shrike's existence and watching him treat the young vigilante the same way made all of Diana's determination dry up.

"I am not going to request you betray the trust of the Sky King. If he asks you directly if you know of any children of the sea that may be the Earthshaker's, then you would be well within your rights to say so. All I ask is that you do not go out of your way to alert him of the boy's existence," Aquaman pleaded.

"If my father finds out that I've hid this from him…" Diana said, not needing to finish her sentence.

Aquaman winced. "He may be furious, but he has always favoured the Parthenos, the Mistress of Wild Animals, and yourself."

"Very well. Blue Shrike will remain a secret from the gods," Diana conceded with a sigh.

"Until he is twelve," Aquaman said.

"Until he is twelve," she agreed. The both stood in the meeting room for a moment, with nothing but the whir of the air conditioning accompanying their morbid thoughts. Eventually Diana spoke again. "We'd best head to the rendezvous point for the mission."

The mission was nothing too far out of the ordinary. The minute the bombs went off on the ships, Diana and Aquaman stormed in, fists flying and enemies screaming.

Diana kept her eye on Blue Shrike throughout the fight, noting the way he fought like a Bat and yet had the natural strength and reflexes of a demigod. She noted the way that even when the ship he was standing on began to capsize, his steps didn't stumble as he bolted towards a tall alien and punched it in the face.

Blue Shrike was a talented vigilante, much like his older brothers in the way he teased and mocked his foes as he tossed them overboard.

He was also very much a child, Diana thought with an ache in her chest as she saw him sit on Batman's shoulders as he giggled and played with the ears on his cowl.

Blue Shrike was nothing more than a boy, who raised his hand in a Justice League meeting like he was asking his teacher if he could use the bathroom. He was a boy who, despite his fortitude in battle, procrastinated on his schoolwork, which was how Diana had ended up tagging along with Aquaman and the three Bats back to Gotham to help with his science project.

As Diana sat at the dining table in Wayne Manor, sipping on the cup of tea Alfred had readily served her while she coloured in a diagram of coral reefs and watched Aquaman explain ocean food chains out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that wormed in her stomach.

She hoped that Blue Shrike would live long enough to be the prophecy child. She didn't want to know what it was like to watch Batman mourn one of his children like that.

Chapter Text

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

"Alright, what the fuck do you guys want?" Jason asked, taking his helmet off in the Batcave. As soon as he looked around, taking in the rigidly tense stance of the rest of the Bats around him, his anger began to evaporate. The minute he saw the pain in Bruce's eyes, that anger turned into a flare of fear. "What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed.

"Well, you'd probably think of this as good news," Tim said with a tight smile, tapping the arm of the chair he was sitting in so quickly it was a wonder his fingers didn't break.

"What is it?" Jason asked.

"The Joker's dead," Dick said.

All of the air left Jason's lung in a rush. His eyes flicked across the rest of the Bats' faces, trying to see if this was some kind of sick joke.

"What?" he whispered. His eyes immediately, regrettably, darted towards Bruce, who stared at nothing with agony written all over his face.

"Just watch," Tim said, pressing play on the Batcomputer.

The screen came to life, showing a view of the Joker's cell in Arkham Asylum. He was sitting there, tied up in a chair like he always was whenever he wasn't broken out and slaughtering the innocent, until a young man with dark hair and a doctor's lab coat walked into view.

In the video, the Joker spoke up. "Well, lookie here. Are you my new shrink? Here to see if you can cure me?"

"Does death count as a cure?" asked the doctor - assassin, Jason corrected - with a tone of frigid stone. Jason didn't recognize his voice, but there was a familiar sense of restrained anger that coated each word.

The Joker made some inane comment, and the fake doctor responded in turn as he peeled off his lab coat, removing the pair of glasses from his face and throwing them to the floor.

"Perseus Jackson-Wayne?" the Joker asked, eyes wide.

The world tilted on its axis.

Percy. Percy was the man in the video.

A storm of emotion erupted in Jason's chest. There was an initial spark of fear, because his baby brother was in the same room as the man who killed Jason, which was followed by a sense of longing and nostalgia as soon as he realized that Percy was so much taller, with a voice much deeper, than what Jason remembered. Both of those were quickly swallowed by the wave of shocking realization as soon as it clicked that Percy, who would curl up in a blanket as Jason read his favourite books to him, was the one who killed the Joker.

"Who else would I be?" the Percy in the video responded.

Percy and the Joker spoke some more, but he could hardly hear it over the dizzy roaring in his ears. Only one sentence stuck out to Jason.

"I broke into a mental facility to kill my brother's murderer," Percy said. "Don't mistake me for a saint."

He did it for Jason. He did what Bruce didn't, and avenged Jason's death.

Suddenly, the video glitched, and glass was smattered all across the floor. Percy stepped towards the Joker, exchanging a few more words with him before unsheathing a well-concealed sword and cutting the Joker's head clean off.

Jason couldn't stop the noise that spilled from his throat at the sight.

The screen glitched once more, and both Percy and the body were gone. The only things left visible were the blood-soaked chair and glass shards.

Tim pressed pause on the video. "The footage is dated from earlier this afternoon. None of the guards noticed until an hour later, when they tried to bring him dinner."

"How," Jason began, before swallowing and starting again. "How did no one notice? How did he get so close?"

"He went undercover as Pete Jeffries, a psychology major who was meant to intern at Arkham Asylum for the next three months. It's worth noting that Pete Jeffries also resigned from his internship a few hours ago, and that any paperwork he had was nothing more than a series of excellent forgeries," Dick answered.

"No one realized?" Jason asked, breathless and incredulous.

"Evidently not," Damian said, nose wrinkled.

"And the whole time that was happening, we were too busy on a wild goose chase," Tim huffed, scowling.

"You what?" Jason asked, mind still foggy.

"You know friend he mentioned bringing to Gotham to help find these metas he's after?" Tim asked. "Well, apparently, that same friend was also brought to keep us off his trail while he was off murdering the Joker."

Dick stepped towards the Batcomputer, fingers dancing across the keys to reveal a map of Gotham City. "Lightning strikes occurred all over the city all afternoon. At first, everyone assumed it was just part of the freak storms that have been happening for the past week or so. Weird weather, but nothing too unbearable since the first day passed. But it didn't take long to notice that the lightning hit specific places at specific intervals."

Glowing yellow dots appeared on the map, appearing and disappearing in the order of the lightning strikes today. It only took Jason a few seconds of watching them to see an immediate pattern.

"Fibonacci's sequence?" he asked.

"Yup. As soon as we figured that out, we started running checks for mechanical or magical intervention, see what we're working with. And what do you know," Tim said, changing the screen once more to show a montage of security camera clips.

There was a teenager with blonde hair and glasses, showing up in the various locations of Gotham with Percy's teleporting dog. The kid and the dog would suddenly appear, with the kid kneeling down and pressing his palm to the ground for a few seconds before the dog would whisk them both away. A few minutes later, lightning would hit the spot where the blonde kid touched the ground. That process was repeated at each location of the spiral, making the way the lightning was created abundantly clear.

"What do we know about the blonde guy?" Duke asked.

"Information on him is scarce, like Percy mentioned to you and Babs after the fire, but that same guy is spotted in footage with Percy in Rome from back in June. I couldn't find a name, but he's definitely a member of this meta society Percy's looking out for," Tim explained.

"So Perseus brought an unknown and potentially dangerous meta into Gotham?" Damian asked.

"They're clearly friends," Dick corrected, rising to Percy's defence.

"And in the time it took for us to finally chase down Percy's little friend, the Joker had already been killed," Tim said, easily redirecting the conversation away from the incoming argument.

Jason personally thought that was useless, considering something like this was going to blow into an argument no matter what. Most likely between him and Bruce, though maybe Percy would join this time. Maybe Percy would be on Jason's side. Percy would be, given he killed the Joker thinking that Jason was still dead. And before Jason died, he and Percy always had each other's backs.

"I need to go see him," Jason said suddenly. Everyone turned to face him, each making a face that showed a differing level of hesitation. "I need to go see him," he repeated.

He blinked a few times, waiting for his legs to catch up with his mouth and walk him towards his motorbike at the entrance of the cave. Jason was finally about to move his feet when Bruce spoke up, voice tight.

"Jason," Bruce stated, like just his name was enough of a word.

Like a feather on a rushing river, all of Jason's numbness melted away and was replaced by a rage so strong he could barely see past the green in his eyes.

"Fuck you," Jason spat, chest heaving with rage. "Fuck you, Bruce. Why the hell did it take so long for this to happen? It's been years since I died, and that piece of shit only died today! Why did Percy have to do what you should have done the moment you realized I stopped breathing?"

"Jason, he needs to be arrested," Bruce said hoarsely, like the thought pained him.

"Arrested?" Jason demanded. He could feel the rage swelling in his chest like tar, clogging his throat and spilling out of his mouth.

"Bruce, that's a bit harsh," Dick interjected, playing mediator even as he glared at Bruce.

"Harsh? It's ridiculous, that's what it is! Percy's done me a fucking service - done the world a service! We should be thanking him, not tossing him behind bars!" Jason shouted.

"He's a convicted murderer. You saw the footage. He needs to be arrested and face trial," Bruce said.

"What footage?" Jason asked, grabbing the gun at his hip and shooting the Batcomputer in the centre of the screen. The glass cracked, the screen sputtering between light and darkness before it finally went completely black.

"Hate to break it to you, but that didn't actually erase the footage," Tim said, not even wincing when Jason gave him a withering glare.

Jason aggressively blinked the green out of his eyes, taking measured breaths as he forced himself to calm down. The act of leashing his temper was something he had only been able to accomplish with years of dedicated practice, but it was a skill that was tested every time he set foot near the rest of the Bats.

"I am going to go see Percy to thank him. All of you are going to stay here and not fuck this up," Jason hissed, almost trembling with anger.

"That's good," Dick said encouragingly, trying for a smile. "You two haven't seen each other in years. It'll be good for you two to see each other again."

Jason flinched, but turned on his heel and drove to the Narrows before anyone could say another word. It was still stormy outside, the wind biting his skin and puddles forming along the curb and kicking up splashes every time his bike drove through them.

Before Jason had died, he seldom doubted the fact that he was a good big brother. He had always looked out for Percy, helping him with his homework and grabbing things off of high shelves for him so that he wouldn't try to climb the cabinets just to get a fucking bowl. In those first few months after Percy had appeared in his life, Jason did his best to help the kid through his grief. When they went on patrol, Robin always kept an eye on Blue Shrike in case anything went wrong.

Before Jason had died, he was good. But this was Jason's second round with a beating heart, and he knew that he wasn't any kind of hero or vigilante anymore. Jason was the Red Hood. He was a drug lord and mobster, a criminal and killer. He played a regular role in the nightmares of the monsters that stalked the streets of Gotham.

Then again, Percy wasn't the same twelve-year-old that Jason left behind when he went to find his mother. He was old enough to hatch his own murder schemes, and was spending nearly all his time working with an unknown group of metas. According to Dick, he seemed pretty dedicated to these metas safety. Maybe Jason was different now, but Percy was different too.

The thought comforted him as he walked up the stairs of Percy's apartment building. His hands shook, so he curled them both into fists, with one tucked into the pockets of his jacket and the other knocking on Percy's apartment door.

The cover over the peephole slid open, and Percy - hopefully it was Percy instead of his lightning-wielding buddy - carefully assessed him.

"Who is it?" the person on the other side of the door asked with a faint French accent.

Jason couldn't help but crack a grin. Pierre Johannsen, he remembered. The comically fake name Percy had used for his lease.

"A dead man walking," Jason said before he could think twice, laughing out of joy or nerves or both. "Now open the door, would ya?"

"Non. Now leave, before I call the police," Percy said firmly. He slid the cover of the peephole shut.

Jason felt a twinge of panic slice through his chest. "Wait, hold on! You avenged my murder earlier today and now you won't even say hi?"

It was quiet for a long moment, and Jason was just about to let the panic settle beneath his skin as the realization that he had just chased Percy away began to blossom, when the door was suddenly slammed open.

Percy stood there, wearing a pleasant smile built of plastic. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, still using the French accent. Jason could see the metal doorknob squish and warp slightly beneath his touch.

Percy was taller and broader than what Jason remembered, with scars on his face and hands that were too thin for Jason to be able to identify the origin of at a distance. He, like Jason, had also bulked up quite a bit since they last saw each other. Five years ago, they both looked like children. Now, it was clear that they were both soldiers.

"You heard me, Perce. Now, will you let me in or not?" Jason asked, silently glad that his voice didn't quiver.

A rush of different emotions danced across Percy's face, from shock and horror before it eventually settled on rage.

Percy's hand quickly darted out and grabbed Jason by the collar, throwing him inside the apartment. He landed against the wall with a thud, and Percy kicked the door shut as he grabbed Jason's collar again and hauled him further inside. He tossed Jason against the coffee table in the living room - and seriously, how and when did Percy get this strong? Jason weighed a lot, and Percy wasn't fucking Bane - pulling one bronze and one steel sword out of nowhere.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to try and pull this shit on me?" Percy demanded, pointing one sword at Jason's neck and the other at his stomach.

"Uh, dude? What's going on?" another voice asked from somewhere behind Jason. The blonde meta who played distraction, most likely.

From the same direction, Percy's teleporting dog barked at the sudden appearance of a stranger.

"This guy knows my name. He's pretending to be Jason," Percy answered, not taking his eyes or blades off of Jason.

"I am Jason," he stated, raising his hands in surrender.

"Actually, I think I'm - "

"I don't know who the hell put you up to this, but you have five seconds to tell me who you're working for and what exactly you are before I test out both of these on you," Percy interrupted harshly, giving Jason a glare that could turn wood to kindling.

"No one put me up to this!" Jason shouted, frustrated. "I even went against Bruce by coming to see you, since he wanted you to be arrested for killing the Joker!"

"Bruce doesn't have the power to do arrests," Percy said, eyes narrowed.

Jason looked at him confusedly before saying, "Yes, he does? He's Batman, Percy, he's thrown plenty of criminals behind bars before."

"Bruce Wayne is Batman?!" the lightning meta asked. Ah. So that's why Percy was acting weird. Jason briefly wondered what Percy's friend thought was going on before this point. "But Bruce Wayne is your dad and - oh. Oh, that makes so much sense."

"I think the real question is how do you know that information, imposter?" Percy asked, pressing the flat both blades to Jason's throat.

"Because I'm Jason Todd, your brother," Jason explained. "I died a five years ago, but it didn't stick. I've been laying low for the past few years and haven't been able to reach out until now."

Percy scoffed. "You think I wouldn't have noticed that? I've spent the past five years searching for and begging different necromancers to bring my brother - my real brother - back to life, only to be told over and over again that his soul was missing. He can't come back, so you might as well give up the jig now and tell me who you're working for and how the fuck you know Batman's identity."

"You've been talking to necromancers trying to revive me?" Jason asked, feeling a lump get lodged in his throat. "Oh, Percy. They - the only reason it didn't work was because I was already alive by then. They couldn't find my soul because there was nothing to be found."

"And I don't suppose you'd care to explain how you managed to get brought back then, hm?" Percy asked with a glare.

"The Lazarus Pits," Jason said simply.

Percy reeled back as though Jason had slapped him, stepping back to the other side of the living room and defensively holding his swords in front of himself.

"The Lazarus Pits?" the meta asked, having quickly gotten over the shock of Brucie Wayne being the Dark Knight.

"Pools of liquid on the Earth's surface that come from all five rivers of the Pit spilling into each other. You can soak a dead or dying person in them for some pretty intense healing effects," Percy explained faintly, looking pale.

Jason quickly filed away the fact that Percy apparently knew about the origins of the Lazarus Pits and focussed on explaining himself. "I woke up in my coffin and crawled my way out. I wandered around for a little while before a member of the League of Assassins found me and took me to the Lazarus Pits. That's how I came back."

"How did you come to life in your grave, then?" Percy demanded, still shaken.

"I don't know. All I remember is waking up in my funeral suit, surrounded by wood and silk. I dug upwards and wasn't fully coherent until after I emerged from the Pits," Jason explained.

"That doesn't make any sense, people don't just - " Percy cut himself off sharply, face going slack and eyes going wide. "How long was it, between you being buried and waking up?" Percy asked.

"I don't know," Jason repeated.

"Estimate. A week? A month?" Percy pressed.

"Sometime between three and five months, I think," Jason guessed.

Percy let out a small laugh. "Pluto," he whispered. A code phrase, most likely.

"Shit. I'll call Nico," the blonde meta said, pulling out his phone and walking onto the tiny balcony.

"Who's Nico?" Jason asked, quirking a brow at Percy.

"Someone who can confirm if you're lying or not. Though, I could just do that myself right now," Percy said. He twirled his swords emphatically, and Jason rolled his eyes.

"What else do you need in order to believe me?" Jason asked, exasperated.

"Fucking evidence, dumbass. You've been telling some pretty plausible lies, but I refuse to believe that no one thought to tell me that my brother came back from the afterlife," Percy said, snorting.

"Tim said that he tried to tell you. He texted me a few weeks back, something about Greek mythology and groceries," Jason said.

Percy raised a brow. "You said you came back years ago. Bruce, Dick, or Alfred should have been able to tell me."

"None of them knew that I was alive until last summer!" Jason exclaimed with a huff.

"Which month?" Percy asked, eyes glinting.

"June," Jason replied flatly, not able to get caught in a lie because he wasn't lying. God, this was frustrating.

"When I had amnesia…" Percy mumbled thoughtfully.

"You had amnesia?" Jason asked.

"Only for a few months. I was off-grind and clueless the whole time. If someone had tried to contact me then, it wouldn't have worked," Percy said.

Just then, Percy's friend came back from the balcony with a grim look on his face. "I just called Nico," he said. "He talked to his dad and confirmed it. Your brother's soul was returned to his body years ago."

"Your necromancer buddy?" Jason asked, turning to face Percy only to see tears trickling down his cheeks.

"It's you?" Percy asked in a voice hardly louder than a whisper.

And just like that, all the layers of sarcasm and irritation that Jason wore seemed to melt away.

"Yeah," Jason said softly. "Yeah, it's me."

Percy's knees buckled, and Jason moved to hold him as he cried in his arms like they'd done a thousand times before when Percy was little and horrified by the things the world had to show him, only this time Jason cried too. Percy buried his face in Jason's shirt, sobbing so loud his whole body shook.

"You're alive," Percy said between heaving breaths.

Jason didn't reply; couldn't, actually, with the scratching burn in his throat and shakiness in his heart. He just wrapped his arms around Percy even tighter.

"I brought you back," Percy said, laughing around his tears as a smile worked its way onto his face.

Jason shook his head, bemused. "No, Percy, it was the Pits - "

"The necromancer I spoke to, he brought you back in your grave before then. He said that he would bring you back to life the moment your soul was judged. I thought he would bring you back to me. That fucker," Percy explained, somewhat fondly.

"You…you did?" Jason whispered.

"Mm-hm. The summer after you died, I went on a road trip with two of my friends to find this necromancer. We thought he was framing me for theft, but it was actually this other guy, and long story short I asked him to bring you back," Percy said. He wiped the tears off his cheeks with his palm.

"Oh," was all Jason could manage to say.

For a brief second, a world where the necromancer held up his word flashed behind his eyes. A world where Jason's soul and body were lifted out of the afterlife and into Percy and Bruce's waiting arms. A world where he was able to pick up where he left off knowing that his family was there.

He had wondered, thousands and thousands of times, why he was brought back to life. Of the constantly-increasing number of people who were just like him in the way that they were vivid and real and alive before the Grim Reaper came knocking, why was he able to claw his way out from six feet under? Why him?

Apparently, the answer was that Percy wanted to. Shortly after Jason had died, he made a deal that he thought didn't work, just to bring Jason back to life. Percy had gone out of his way to take Jason's extinguished life in his hands and see to it that he was revived only to get screwed over on a technicality that left Jason scrambling out of his own coffin.

"And you aren't mad?" Jason asked tentatively.

"About what?" Percy asked, nose scrunched.

"That I came back to life from the Pits," Jason said.

"Of course not," Percy said, looking at Jason like he was a moron. "I know a bunch of people who came back from the dead. The Lazarus Pits are concerning, because that means you have to deal with Pit madness, but I think I can find a way to fix that, or at least mitigate the symptoms. It might take a while and some research, though."

"Thank you," Jason murmured after a long moment, because despite all the pain and anger that had plagued his second life, he had his brother with him again and might even be able to get a second chance without the constant buzzing green in the back of his mind.

"Always," Percy replied easily, voice still a bit scratchy from crying. "You would've done the same for me."

Would he have? If it had been Percy in the warehouse and Jason was the one who was left alive, would he have done anything in his power to make sure they were reunited? Not if it meant Percy would go through everything I did, Jason thought definitively. Jason wouldn't wish Pit madness and being the Red Hood on him.

He then abruptly remembered that he hadn't told Percy about any of that yet.

"So, Percy," Jason began stiffly.

Percy, sensing the shift in tone, peered up at him curiously, and in that moment he looked just like that nine-year-old that kicked one of Penguin's henchmen in the balls.

"What's up?" Percy asked.

"I guess I wanted you to know that I've changed since I died. Like, a lot," Jason said.

Percy snorted. "It's been five years, Jay, I sure hope you have."

"I just want to make sure you aren't like going to be upset when you find out what I've been up to. Y'know, like how Bruce did," Jason said.

"I'm nothing like Bruce. What would I even be upset about?"

"Murder, for starters," Jason stated, ripping the band-aid right off. "Including but not limited to a bag of decapitated heads. And a lot of gang violence, since I'm the Red Hood."

"The new guy running Crime Alley?" Percy asked, pulling away from Jason to stare at him in shock.

"That's me," Jason said, nodding.

"Huh. I can see it," Percy said.

"You can?" Jason asked, surprised.

"C'mon, Jay. You and B were always arguing about how rough you could be on criminals. And besides, I wasn't able to do much recon before I came back to Gotham, but from what I was able to find, the Red Hood cleaned up a lot of the Alley and regulated a lot of the crime there. I did also hear about the extensive murder," Percy said, though there was a hesitant quality to his words.

"And you aren't even a little bit mad at me for doing all that?" Jason pressed, brow raised skeptically.

Percy paused for a brief second, lips pursing. "I'm more happy to have you back than upset about your crimes."

"But you still think they're crimes," Jason said, voice hollow. He snorted a laugh, bitter. "You know, that's real fucking rich coming from the guy who just killed the Joker earlier today."

"There's a hell of a big difference between killing a criminal and killing a monster," Percy said.

"You think I go around shooting anyone in the fucking face? The people I killed were monsters too, Percy," Jason said emphatically, praying that he was understood.

"Monsters?" Percy asked, looking at Jason carefully.

"Monsters," Jason repeated.

"That's good," Percy said, relaxing. "Only monsters deserve to die. Not people."

"Thank you," Jason said with a smile, because it was hell to try and explain himself over and over to Bruce only to be met with privileged stubbornness.

"The important thing is that your here," Percy said, leaning into him. Then, he perked up excitedly. "You should meet my friends. Hey, Dumbass 2: Electric Boogaloo! Get back in here!" he shouted, glancing around his apartment.

Jason barked out a laugh.

His blonde friend peeped his head in from the other room, face relaxing when he saw the smile on Percy's face. "I'm assuming the gushy reunion is over."

"You betcha," Percy replied with a mischievous grin.

"Sucks that Uncle didn't actually help you out, by the way. Nico's pissed at him, and he's going to tell Hazel too, just to have backup when he beats the shit out of him," said Percy's friend.

"Ha! Serves the asshole right," Percy said with no small amount of viciousness.

"It's nice to meet you," the meta said, sticking his hand out with an easy smile. "I'm Jason. I think this is going to get confusing fast."

"Same," Jason replied, shaking his hand.

"You can call me by my last name, Grace, if that's any easier," Jason Grace suggested.

"Sure. And if you're weirded out by calling me your name, you can just go with Todd," Jason offered, and Grace smiled appreciatively in response.

"Wait, where's my phone? I need to call Annabeth, you should meet her," Percy said, getting up and moving around the room.

"Who's Annabeth?" Jason asked.

"My girlfriend," Percy replied, finding his phone on the kitchen counter and tapping away at it.

"G - girlfriend? Since when do you have a girlfriend?" Jason asked, doing a double take.

Percy just threw his head back and laughed.

—

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, New Jersey
2004

Jason as good as jumped out of his chair the minute he saw Percy barrelling down the main stairs and into the library.

"I'm rich!" Percy shouted, still clad in his pajamas. It was Sunday, and since they had patrol last night, Percy had taken the opportunity to sleep in until ten in the morning.

"B is a billionaire, Perce," Jason said, slipping a bookmark between the pages of Bram Stoker's Dracula; he could already tell that he'd have to wait a while before getting back to his book. "Of course we're rich."

"That's B's money, not ours," Percy corrected. Then, with a certain level of dramatic flourish, he pulled out a thin stack of fifty dollar bills and started to fan himself. "This is my own money."

"And where did you get all that?" Jason asked, amused.

"You know how the Scarecrow kept on sniffing me last night during the attack?" Percy asked.

"Yeah. So what?" Jason said, raising a brow.

"Well, it was pretty fucking creepy, right? So obviously I punched him the face, and he punched me back and gave me this sick battle scar," Percy said, pointing to his jaw.

It was worth noting that Percy did not have a 'battle scar'. When the Scarecrow clocked Percy in the face last night, all he had gotten was a bruise on his face. In fact, the bruise had already started to turn yellow.

"I was there," Jason said dryly.

"The Scarecrow also knocked my tooth out, so I asked Bruce to call the Tooth Fairy, and - " Percy began, opening his mouth and pointing to the gap in his teeth where pink gum flashed where his molar was a day earlier.

Jason promptly choked on air. "Wh - the Tooth Fairy? How much money did you get?!"

How much money did Bruce give you? Jason actually wondered.

"Four hundred bucks," Percy crowed with glee.

"Four hundred - no, you know what, Bruce needs to find out about this shit," Jason declared, marching out of the library and towards the balcony where Bruce was reading the newspaper and drinking coffee like the old grandpa he was.

For a second, Jason wondered why Bruce would read the newspaper on the balcony of all places, before he saw sunlight pouring in through the windows. It was sunny out, something that was such a rarity in Gotham that both Jason and Percy's steps halted for a brief moment to admire it before they continued their way to Bruce.

"Hello there," Bruce said, glancing up at Jason and Percy with mild confusion.

"Fuck off, Obi-Wan. Guess who just got four hundred dollars from the Tooth Fairy last night?" Jason demanded, gesturing to Percy.

"Ah. Congratulations, Percy. I see your bruise is healing quickly. Do you feel any pain?" Bruce asked, looking at Percy with polite concern. His face didn't in the slightest give away the fact that he had snuck enough money to buy a luxury antique under Percy's pillow last night.

"Nope!" Percy chirped. "After I took a shower last night, most of the pain went away! And look, B, four hundred bucks! I'm almost as rich as you are now!"

"This is why you're failing math class, dipshit," Jason deadpanned.

"Jason, be nice," Bruce chastised lightly before turning back to Percy with a gentle smile.

"I'm gonna buy something!" Percy decided, clutching his stack of bills to his chest with a giddy smile.

"Buy someone rando's teeth off the black market or something and then put one under your pillow every day for the rest of the year. If you keep on getting this much each time, you'll be a millionaire by New Years," Jason suggested.

Bruce sent a flat glare his way, and Jason just smiled back at him. "Or you could invest. I can show you how the stock market works, and invest on your behalf. Then, when you're eighteen - "

"I'm gonna buy some ice cream," Percy interrupted, turning on his heel and marching off the balcony.

Jason snickered at the look on Bruce's face.

"This is what happens when I try to give you kids life advice," Bruce sighed, exasperated.

"No, this is what happens when your stupid enough to give a kid four hundred dollars in one go," Jason corrected.

"That's what I got when I was young, and what I gave Dick when he lost his last few teeth," Bruce said with a frown.

"And somehow so much of your personality makes sense," Jason quipped, ducking out of the way when Bruce moved to ruffle his hair. "Are you gonna give Percy an extra present from Santa Claus too?" he asked.

"Probably. At least until he grows out of it," Bruce said, shrugging as he sat back down and returned to his newspaper.

"Well, I also believe in Santa and should therefore get twice the amount of presents too," Jason stated.

"If you want anything, I'll buy it for you. So long as it's legal, at least. There's no need for the extra steps," Bruce said absently, eyes skimming over that morning's crossword. He grabbed a pencil out of his pocket and began to quickly fill it in.

"Where's the holiday magic in that?" Jason asked, leaning over Bruce's shoulder to read the crossword clues. "The answer is 'Tenochtitlan', by the way," he added, pointing to the question thirty-two down.

"Why don't you go and get ready to leave for ice cream soon? I have a feeling Percy will want to get going as soon as possible," Bruce suggested as he filled in the box.

"I've got a better idea," Jason said instead, running inside and returning with Dracula in hand.

He was about to ask if Bruce would mind if they sat together, only for Bruce to already gesture to the chair beside him. The two of them sat in the sun, silent except for the sound of papers being flipped and the scratching of a singular pencil.

Eventually, Percy showed up and yanked them both out the door. Alfred was already in the car, ready to drive them to the nearest ice cream parlour. Jason was, despite his best efforts to sit shotgun, placed in the back seat with Percy, who was as good as jumping in his seat.

"You're only allowed to have one scoop, Percy," Bruce said from the front seat.

Percy immediately looked devastated. "What? But this is my Tooth Fairy money!" he objected.

"And the Tooth Fairy doesn't like it when kids have bad dental hygiene," Bruce said.

"But if I eat too much sugar, then my teeth will rot and fall out and she'd be able to get more teeth. It's in her best interest to promote more teeth falling out, isn't it?" Percy asked.

"If more kids loose their teeth, then she would have to hand out even more money. She would have to be an idiot to do that," Jason said, already gearing up for a fruitless argument.

"You're all out of baby teeth either way, so you need to take care of your new set," Bruce said with finality.

They arrived at the ice cream parlour, and after Alfred refused their third offer to get something for him too, they went inside to order. Bruce decided to not prove Jason's old man comments wrong by ordering a small cup of vanilla bean, Percy got cotton candy in a chocolate cone with sprinkles on top, and Jason got into a fight with Bruce about his flavour.

"You can't get rum raisin, lad, there's alcohol in it," Bruce sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It all gets burned off before they serve it," Jason refuted.

"No, it doesn't. It has a small percentage of alcohol," Bruce said.

"I can handle a small percentage," Jason insisted.

"Not for another seven years, you won't," Bruce retorted. "Now pick something else before I let Percy choose for you; the line behind us is getting long."

"Can I?" Percy asked, a wicked smile stretching across his face.

Percy's eyes darted towards the lavender and rose flavoured ice cream. Jason felt his stomach drop as he thought back to that one time he was a stupid little kid and had taken a bite out of a bar of floral soap. He had told Percy about that story almost two years ago, and now the little shit was going to try and make him relive that.

"Cookie dough," Jason blurted before Percy could open his stupid mouth.

"Wonderful," Bruce said, smiling at him while Percy pouted.

Percy shoved a handful of his brand-new bills at the cashier and they walked out with their ice cream in hand. They found a bench standing right in the middle of a rare sunbeam and sat down on it, with Percy squished in the middle of Jason and Bruce as they dug into the food.

Jason had to admit that even if he hadn't originally wanted cookie dough ice cream, it still tasted pretty damn good. He offered a spoonful to Bruce and Percy, the former refusing it while the latter eagerly tried some. Percy offered a bite of his to Jason too, but Jason took one look at the neon blue, sugary monstrosity that was melting all over Percy's hands and quickly shook his head.

"You know," Jason began, scraping the last of his ice cream out of his cup with a little plastic spoon. "I could punch you super hard in the face, and then you'd lose even more teeth. Then you would make even more money, and Bruce would pay for you to get dental implants."

"Or you could just invest the money and save us all the pain and hassle. But hey, what do I know?" Bruce grumbled good-naturedly into his cup of boring-as-shit vanilla.

"I'm going to hold onto the money for now. Just in case I need it," Percy said with a shrug.

"Never hurts to have an emergency stash," Jason said in approval, handing him a paper napkin to scrub all the blue ice cream off his lips.

"If I always have a bit of money on me, I can get train tickets or food or whatever I want," Percy said, and Jason felt a flicker of pride at his younger brother's forward-thinking.

"Or you can be like Dick and go live in a shitty apartment in Bludhaven for the sake of being independent," Jason added, smiling slyly.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something - probably to scold Jason for making a remark about Dick when he wasn't there to defend himself - but Percy spoke up before he could. "Nah. I think I'd rather stay in the Manor forever. That way I could always be with you and Bruce and Alfred," Percy said simply, wiping sticky ice cream off his palms.

Jason felt his heart tug in his chest, and saw Bruce's eyes soften.

"You're welcome to stay in the Manor for as long as you'd like, Cuddlebird," Bruce said, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Percy's head. He then glanced up at Jason and smiled at him. "You both are."

"After we go to college," Jason clarified, keeping his voice casual even though his chest swelled with a light fluffiness at the thought of being able to live with his family forever.

"Of course. Education is important," Bruce agreed.

Once all of their trash was put away and they were cleaned up, the got back into the car to be driven back to the Manor. Bruce and Alfred began to shatter in the front seat, and Percy stared at the two of them calculatingly before beckoning Jason to shuffle towards him from his seat with his hand. Jason obliged, shimmying over and tilting his ear towards him when it looked like Percy wanted to tell him a secret.

"You better not tell B that I'm too old to believe in Santa Claus," Percy whispered into Jason's ear.

"You know?" Jason replied in an equally hushed tone, eyes wide.

"Duh. I'm almost eleven, Jay. But I can get away with believing in Santa until I'm fourteen, so you better not snitch," Percy whispered. He made an expression that was probably meant to be an intimidating glare, but since Percy still had baby fat clinging to his cheeks and his tongue was blue from the cotton candy ice cream, it fell pretty flat.

"Cross my heart," Jason murmured, making an x over his chest.

"Good," Percy said, nodding as he settled back into his seat.

"What's going on back there, boys?" Bruce asked. Jason could see the suspicion in his eyes from the rearview mirror.

"I was just explaining to Percy why vanilla bean ice cream is the most boring choice known to man," Jason said smoothly.

"Very funny. Vanilla's a classic for a reason," Bruce said, lips twitching into a smile.

"Nope! Jason said that only lame old people eat vanilla," Percy said.

"I find vanilla ice cream quite enjoyable, actually," Alfred chimed in.

Jason and Percy exchanged a glance.

"Then clearly it's the best choice!" Jason said enthusiastically, with Percy frantically nodding in agreement beside him.

"How do you do that?" Bruce asked Alfred, somewhat mystified.

"It pays to be the one in charge of everyone's food, Master Bruce," Alfred said, a hint of smugness lacing his voice.

"I'm more scared of passive-aggressive house chores than I'll ever be scared of you, B," Jason said.

Bruce rolled his eyes, but didn't argue, which Jason considered a win.

Chapter Text

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

Percy, regardless of his own efforts, was incredibly twitchy as he and Jason - mortal brother Jason, not demigod cousin Jason - walked up to the front steps of Wayne Manor. This was the first time Percy had come close to his former home in years, and from the outside the building looked identical. Wayne Manor was practically the New England equivalent of a castle, complete with new money decorating tastes and kept immaculate over the years thanks to Alfred's consistent efforts.

Thankfully Jason had agreed to let Percy hold his hand the whole time, as though Percy was still nine and not seventeen fucking years old. He knew it was irrational to expect Jason to vanish into a wisp of smoke the second he left Percy's line of sight, but at the same time all he could think of was how the last time he'd let his brother leave him his whole life was turned upside down.

Percy was reminded, vaguely, of his very first quest, where he had dared to travel into the Underworld to retrieve the Master Bolt and come back with his newly-revived brother in tow. He knew the myths of people going into the Underworld, like Heracles going to catch Cerberus for one of his twelve labours or Odysseus searching for a prophecy from Tiresias.

Back then, Percy really hoped that he would be like Orpheus, venturing into the depths of the Underworld in order to bring his loved one back with him. Hades may have screwed Percy over by bringing Jason back into his coffin and never telling Percy about this fact, but at least he hadn't been screwed over as hard as Orpheus was with Eurydice.

Percy, much like Orpheus, couldn't help but feel like it was safer to make sure Jason stayed close. Just in case.

His heart rate refused to settle down as the two of them were faced with the benignly intimidating front door, much to his displeasure. Jason used the hand Percy wasn't clutching onto to knock on the door, and Alfred opened it up with a smile.

"Master Jason. Master Percy," Alfred greeted. Percy noted with a pang in his chest that his face held more wrinkles than what he remembered.

"Hi, Alfred," Percy said quietly.

"It's good to see you again," Alfred said, stepping aside to let them in. "It's good to see you both together."

Well then. It was nice to know that Alfred was still running the Manor like a tight ship, if nothing else. Percy and Jason exchanged looks out of the corner of their eyes, equal parts exasperated and amused.

"Good to be back," Percy replied, pulling his hand out of Jason's in order to shuck off his coat and pass to Alfred.

Jason rolled his eyes. "And three, two, one…"

"Look who's finally here," Stephanie said, poking her head into the entrance dinner with Tim not even a full step behind her.

"Wouldn't be much of a family dinner if we didn't show up, Blondie," Jason said without missing a beat.

Percy briefly wondered if his brother knew that he had a similar arsenal of nicknames for Jason. Lightning Jason, not vigilante Jason. Fuck, he hated how he had to clarify every single goddamn time. And he couldn't even use surnames like both Jasons did for each other, because that felt weird as shit!

"Welcome to our home," Tim said amicably, glancing at Percy. "I hope each of us is a good and respectful host to you."

Percy raised a brow at him, torn between annoyed and impressed. "Thank you for having me. I hope to be a humble guest, and to not burden you in your own home," Percy replied politely, inclining his head in as much of a bow as his pride would allow.

Tim's eyes widened with interested delight.

"Nonsense, Master Percy. The Manor will always be your home as well," Alfred said, having returned from hanging up his and Jason's jackets and heading straight back to the kitchen to finish making dinner.

Just like that, all the xenia Tim had tried to initiate and that Percy had reciprocated, snapped like a twig. Tim huffed, irritated, while Percy just laughed.

"Nice try, Timmy," Percy said unapologetically.

"The hell are you two doing?" Stephanie asked, glancing between Percy and Tim suspiciously.

"You wanna explain? It'll be less embarrassing for you that way," Percy suggested with a shit eating grin.

"I was trying to invoke xenia, but then Alfred dissolved it," Tim explained, pouting slightly.

"Xenia? You mean that thing from the Odyssey?" Jason asked.

"More like from Greek mythology in general, but yeah, basically," Percy confirmed.

"And you guys are doing this ancient Greek hospitality ritual because why, exactly?" Jason probed.

"Because - " Percy began, only to cut himself off once he realized that he had zero clue how he was supposed to explain why xenia was so important without touching on the whole 'the Greek gods are real' thing.

Since Jason knew that the Joker was a monster, he was probably aware of the entire mythical world. However, Percy wasn't certain if Jason knew he was a demigod too. Maybe Jason thought Percy was a Clear-sighted mortal, or a legacy, or something. But with Tim and Stephanie in the room too, he couldn't really explain that xenia was deeply important to most demigods.

"Because I'm a nerd, that's all. And you know how I've always liked those old myths, Jay," Percy finished, scrambling to come up with something even slightly plausible.

Tim looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Really? I thought it was because you were a Hellenist. Or a contemporary pagan. Or a neopagan. There's actually a bunch of different words for it."

There are modern mortals who believe in the gods? Percy thought, baffled at how he had somehow never heard of them. Did Chiron know about them? Were they able to see through the Mist? If Percy had been able to reach out to them during the Second Titanomachy or Gigantomachy, would they have helped?

"You are?" Stephanie asked.

Never let it be said that Percy wasn't an opportunist. He had no idea if something like this landed in Tyche's purview, but the goddess of luck was definitely going to get a nice offering later that night for giving Percy this easy out.

Percy let his features shift into sheepishness, avoiding eye contact just enough to look embarrassed.

"I'm not really picky on what word you use, but yeah. The real question is how you noticed that? I thought I was being slick by calling myself a nerd," Percy said, facing Tim.

"It was mainly our conversation at the supermarket. You mentioned names having power, and that certain names invoked certain traits. The idea of names carrying a physical power is seen a lot in Greek mythology, which is why so many gods have epithets; if you don't say the actual name of a god, then you won't get their attention and risk facing their wrath," Tim explained.

"You deduced my religious beliefs just from one conversation? Clever," Percy complimented, and Tim preened.

"You believe in the Greek gods? Like, Zeus and Poseidon and all that?" Stephanie asked skeptically.

Unfortunately, Percy thought miserably.

"Totally!" Percy said cheerfully.

"…why?" Jason asked.

Great. Now he was going to have to come up with a whole reason as to why he believed in the Greek gods without saying that he would really rather they didn't exist, because that way he wouldn't always have to be their errands boy and nearly die while doing so.

"Well, that's certainly a complicated question," Percy stalled, gearing up to talk right out of his ass.

"Hey, you're here! What took you two so long?" Dick asked as he came into the room, immediately sweeping Jason and Percy into a tight hug. Percy hugged back, grateful for the interruption, while Jason reluctantly stood there and let himself be hugged, which was essentially reciprocation in this case.

"Just chatting. I missed you," Percy said, smiling at his eldest brother.

"Someone's in a good mood," Dick remarked as he stepped back from the hug, but he looked pleased nonetheless.

"Percy was just telling us all about his religion, Dick. Did you know he's a Hellenist?" Tim asked.

Percy briefly considered punching Tim in the throat, before coming to the conclusion that that was probably a bit of an extreme reaction.

"Oh, you are? Good for you, I guess," Dick said, surprised.

"Yeah, uh, thank you," Percy said, hugging Dick again on impulse.

"Would you mind if I ask why Hellenism, of all things?" Dick asked.

"Right. Well, it just feels more logical to me than other religions? Like that whole thing with the Epicurean paradox. But Zeus, the king of the gods, is a tyrant, serial rapist, and adulterer. His wife, Hera, takes out her marital problems on Zeus' victims and the children born out of wedlock. All of the gods are really just a bunch of horrible people who are capable of some real kindness, but only sometimes, and I just feel like that reflects reality," Percy explained.

"Well shit, man. That's kinda depressing," Stephanie said with a wince.

"So is existence," Percy said, shrugging.

"Honestly? Fair. Now come on, I'm starving," Stephanie said.

"Fuck yes! I haven't had Alfred's cooking since I was twelve!" Percy cheered, following her into the dining room and ignoring the way Jason and Dick looked at him sadly. Out of habit, he moved towards his usual seat, only to find that Damian was sitting in it, so he plopped himself down in the empty chair beside him. "Hey, kid. How've you been?"

"I have been fine. And don't call me kid," Damian said, with no real bite.

"Of course, kid," Percy replied, snickering at Damian's glare.

"Hey, Percy," Duke said, waving at him from the other side of the table.

"Hey, Duke. Cassandra," Percy replied, nodding to each of them.

"Can you believe that this is the first time all of us have been in a room together?" Dick asked, sitting down.

"Wanna place bets on who causes the most property damage?" Jason added, earning a round of chuckles.

"I won't be breaking anything until after I finish dinner. That way I won't have to do all the cooking and cleaning myself," Percy said.

"For you and your guest, right?" Duke asked, casually taking a sip of his water.

Percy gave a sweet smile at the horribly unsubtle dig for information. "Oh, yeah. None of my friends can cook a decent meal for shit. I had to explain to him how to safely microwave a plate of leftovers before I left, because it turns out wolves don't have access to that much tech."

"Oh, I can imagine. Especially considering one of your friends is an accused arsonist. Leo Valdez, right?" Tim chimed in innocently.

Gods of Olympus, Percy had almost forgotten the constant fucking power plays and mind games that happened in this family. He remembered that he used to love them, back when he was a little kid. It had reminded him of a stage full of ballerinas, dancing and twirling with an elegance to be envied. He used to just barge into Jason's room uninvited and verbally spar with him for hours, always losing because he was younger. He would also steal Jason's clothes whenever he did so, relishing in the fact that he was able to grab a too-large leather jacket from his closet without him noticing.

But barely anyone did such things at Camp Half-Blood. There was Chiron and Mr. D, who were as cryptic and frustrating as all immortals were. Annabeth sometimes would, when she was in the mood to be playful with Percy like that. In those short few weeks before Percy was sent on his first quest, he would try to manipulate and tease Luke, who was always willing to return the favour. It wasn't until Luke's betrayal that he realized where it was that Luke learned to keep up in a verbal game of wits with a trained vigilante. One time, on the Argo II, Percy had acted a bit more like a Bat than he normally would, and Hazel had looked at him strangely for a moment before saying that he was talking like a senator. Percy had gone back to his more laid-back cadence and vocabulary choices after that.

"Key word being accused. I was accused of domestic terrorism, and Leo was accused of starting the house fire that put him in the foster system," Percy said, voice silky smooth. "Sometimes people just say that children committed horrible crimes when they didn't. It happens."

"Why were there such accusations after you?" Damian asked.

"Because people can be very stupid. And we all know that cops aren't exactly the best at their jobs," Percy said, snorting.

And sometimes there was a magical barrier concealing the mythical from the normal that warped perceptions, but that was neither here nor there.

"Who was the person who blew up the Gateway Arch, if not you?" Tim asked, eyes glinting like a hawk's.

Percy shot a look at Jason, who was watching him converse with a pensive look, and figured he would have no help there. Considering he hadn't been revived at that point, he probably didn't know the full story. But Jason had admitted to killing monsters before, and it seemed like the rest of the family was aware of that fact.

"No one who can be held accountable for it now," Percy said, delicate and pointed.

"Ah, this," Dick said, eyes widening before he jumped into lecture mode. "I realize you haven't been here for any of our conversations on why murder isn't great, so just to summarize: it's super bad because it's very permanent and we don't necessarily always have the power to make that judgement. I can't stop you, nor will I be mad at you, if you do kill someone, but as a whole it's better for everyone involved if no one dies."

"At least you aren't Bruce," Jason huffed.

"Is this a conversation that needs to be repeated?" Percy asked, vaguely concerned.

"It really shouldn't be, but sometimes mistakes happen," Dick said.

Okay, so either Jason didn't tell him that the Joker's death was temporary, or the 'murder is wrong' spiel that Dick had apparently said enough times to have a two-sentence summary on hand was a general rule that didn't apply to monsters. Percy glanced at Jason again, trying to gauge which of those was the case, but Jason was scowling down at the table, clearly lost in thought.

"Right," Percy said slowly. "And I'm guessing that's why Bruce hasn't shown up yet?"

"He needed a minute before coming to dinner to get ready. He should be here soon," Dick assured him, despite not looking all too confident himself.

"He'll be here in a minute or two so that he can yell at you for avenging me," Jason translated dryly, a faint sneer on his face.

"I see," Percy said. He didn't, actually, but he wasn't about to say that, and it wasn't like Cassandra was calling him out. "Can we have dinner before the ethics debate, or is it some kind of prerequisite?"

"It's a subject for during dinner, more than anything," Tim said cheekily.

"Ah. Well in that case, I guess I should wait for Alfred and B," Percy drawled.

"I'm sure it's good for people with low blood pressure to sit around and talk philosophy here," Jason muttered.

"Ominous," Percy commented, noticing how the air tensed slightly at Jason's words. "Can't wait to see who I'll yell at the hardest."

"Considering you killed the Joker, it'll probably be Bruce," Stephanie said.

Just then, Alfred entered the room with plates of steaming food. As soon as the smell of buttery pie crust and flavourful filling hit Percy's nose, his mouth began to water. Alfred set a slice of chicken pot pie and a scoop of roasted vegetables in front of everyone, with each of them digging in after giving him their thanks.

"I have also packed away some of tonight's meal for those who may leave early and eat at their own homes," Alfred said, keen eyes roving over the pack of famished vigilantes.

The food was fucking phenomenal, to the point where Percy nearly forgot why it was he had ran away in the first place. Then Bruce walked in, with a face of stone and eyes of steel, and suddenly Percy dropped his eyes and put all his attention towards the wood grain of the table.

"Percy," Bruce said as he entered.

Everyone went tense.

Percy's grip around his fork almost tightened before he forced himself to relax and lean back into his chair, his classic troublemaker smile pulling at his lips as he dragged his eyes up to meet Bruce's. "Hey," Percy remarked annoyingly. "What's up?"

"Why don't you take a seat, B? You're food is getting cold," Dick suggested, quick to step in before things could come to blows - and maybe it would, since Jason already looked like he was ready to jump out of his seat and explode at Bruce.

Bruce sat down, picking at his food for a few seconds before his gaze settled on Percy once more. "You killed the Joker," he said stiffly. To his credit, he didn't sound completely furious - those few minutes before dinner must have been spent meditating, and Bruce was probably still riding that calm.

"And you are the World's Greatest Detective. Somehow. Any other keen observations for us?" Percy asked, tilting his head and letting his hair fall into his eyes in the way that always made Chiron a little bit annoyed and want to ask him to get a haircut.

"One fucking dinner. We can't even have one fucking dinner without you pitching a fit," Jason muttered, throwing a glare Bruce's way.

"It's murder," Bruce said lowly, calmness already seeming to run thin.

"It's also temporary," Percy pointed out. He stuck another bite of food in his mouth and sucked on the fork, teeth scraping against metal.

The whole table went silent, and Percy realized with all the sharpness of a Minotaur fist to the gut that he had just majorly fucked up.

"What do you mean by temporary?" Jason asked, voice measured.

Percy's mind whirled, trying to make sense of all this before coming to the horrible conclusion that Jason didn't know. Jason didn't know about the gods, or the monsters, or the half-bloods, or the wars. Jason didn't know that the Lazarus Pits came from the Pit, and that Percy had walked through that very place. Percy had thought they were on the same page about this, but they weren't, and he had no idea how he had fucked this up so colossally.

"The Joker's immortal," Percy explained, and he watched as Jason pulled back, face shuttering. Percy swallowed nervously, glancing at the rest of the table. "Did none of you know?"

"No, we had no clue that the Joker is apparently immortal," Duke said incredulously, something seething darting through his eyes in the midst of his shock.

"If he's immortal, how did you decapitate him?" Dick asked.

"It doesn't stick for him. He'll just come back in a few years anyways," Percy explained, more than a little desperately as his heart raced.

"He'll come back?" Jason repeated, furious.

"I thought you knew," Percy said, turning to face him.

"How the fuck would I have known?!" Jason demanded.

"You said you killed monsters too!" Percy exclaimed, voice raising.

"Not actual fucking immortal creatures!" Jason shouted. "Metaphorical monsters! Like rapists and murderers and sex traffickers!"

"You mean humans?" Percy asked, feeling himself go pale.

Jason scoffed. "Those pieces of shit do not count as human beings."

"But they bleed red, don't they? When they die, they die for good. Jason, how could you do this?" Percy asked, head spinning and nausea swelling at the thought of his big brother ruthlessly ending the life of a human.

"Did you only kill the Joker because you knew he would come back?" Bruce asked, voice quiet and yet somehow managing to cut through Percy and Jason shouting at each other.

"Obviously! Why on Gaea's green earth would I intentionally end the life of a human?" Percy asked.

"I thought you were avenging my murder," Jason said. He looked betrayed, and Percy's heart suddenly inverted, feeling like it was beating torturously slow.

"I did, Jay, I promise. But I can't kill him forever, that would be impossible," Percy said.

"And if someone who wasn't immortal had killed me? Would you have just let them live?" Jason asked waspishly, his glare cutting.

Percy opened his mouth, but no words came out, choking him from inside his throat. "I don't know," he said eventually.

"Don't - don't tell me you're on his side! Don't tell me that your just like him, thinking that crime and evil can be anything other than controlled," Jason hissed, standing up and shaking with the force of his anger.

"You've been killing humans! Human beings, with hearts and lungs and souls that go to the afterlife! You've been damning their souls to an eternity in the Fields of Punishment without giving them so much as a chance to redeem themselves while they're alive!" Percy snapped back, standing as well.

"Fields of Punishment? Are you seriously going on about Greek mythology right now?" Jason asked.

"I mean it, Jason!" Percy snapped, frustrated.

Bob began to appear behind Percy's eyelids when he blinked, sacrificing his life as he proved he was better than the horrible acts he committed when he was Iapetus. Percy thought of Luke, dying in his arms and begging Percy to make sure that no one else ended up like him. Through the distant fog of many years, Percy remembered his mom and stepfather, murdered in their own home for having the audacity to live in the same place that Percy did. Would Gabe have one day grown into a better man if he had simply been given the chance to?

"Unbelievable," Jason spat, eyes flickering viridian like candlelight. "I can't believe you ended up just like Bruce."

"You make that sound like a bigger insult than it is," Percy replied.

"Would both of you just quit it?" Dick said, loud and clear enough to get everyone's attention. He waited until all eyes were on him before continuing. "This is the first time all of us have been here for one meal, and we are going to sit down and eat together like a family or else."

"Sorry to infringe on your family time, Golden Boy," Jason snapped.

"Don't be mean, Jay," Percy said absentmindedly as he sat back down, scooping a bite of his chicken pot pie. At least it hadn't gotten cold in the time it took for Percy to learn that his brother was some kind of heartless killer.

That, of all things, was what made Jason look at him with confusion rather than anger. "Mean? We were literally just yelling at each other about the ethics of killing people, and you're getting mad at me for being mean?"

"Yeah. You should apologize to Dick," Percy said, not really having the energy to explain that he had somehow defaulted back to a scrawny preteen for a split second.

"No? We were just yelling at each other about killing?" Jason said, looking baffled to hell and back.

Then (in a stroke of true brilliance, one could say), Percy said, "Uh, yeah, dude. Isn't that what family dinners here are supposed to be like?"

"I mean - yeah?"

"We are having dinner together," Percy said, pointing at his plate of half-finished food. "And we are also having a debate on the ethics of murder. Didn't you guys literally just say that that was what happens here?" he asked.

"You got us there, Percy," Tim admitted, toying thoughtfully with his fork.

"See? I win dinner," Percy said smugly.

"You did not," Jason squawked with offence.

"Why don't we finish up and have dessert, hm?" Dick suggested, preventing another - much stupider - argument.

"Please tell me I'm not the only one who gets weirded out when Dick acts all nice and big-brotherly," Percy whispered, leaning over towards Jason.

"Oh, it's weird as shit. All the others are used to it, though," Jason whispered back.

"Always freaked me the fuck out whenever I went to visit your grave. We would just get there and cry a bit, and then afterwards he would ask me about my friends and school," Percy divulged.

"Something funny, you two?" Tim asked from the other side of the table.

"Just that fuckass haircut you used to actually have," Percy said, without so much as missing a beat.

"Percy, come on, he was just a kid," Dick chastised, but his lips twitched with amusement.

"What was your excuse for the mullet then, Dickwing?" Jason crowed. Everyone except for Dick laughed at that, each of them having seen the pictures at one point or another.

"Okay, I feel like all of us have had a bad haircut at one point or another," Dick said.

"Oh, you mean like Damian's vertical phase?" Tim asked, shooting the boy in question a devious glance.

"Vertical phase?" Percy asked, interest immediately piqued.

"Hair gel. Literal mountains of hair gel," Tim explained in a gleeful rush before pressing his chin to the table. A butter knife sank into the wood of the chair, right where his head once was

"You will shut your mouth, Drake," Damian hissed, face bright red and now lacking his butter knife.

"You most certainly will not," Percy refuted. "Please tell me you have pictures."

"I have an entire photo album," Tim said. He and Percy shared devious smiles.

"If you had a spleen, I would carve it out and force it down your throat. Unfortunately for you, I suppose I'll have to use your heart instead," Damian said viciously. Percy sincerely doubted that there was a single person in the room who was intimidated by that.

"I'm shivering in my boots," Tim deadpanned.

"You don't have a spleen?" Percy asked.

"Nope," Tim confirmed, offering no elaboration.

"Would you like one?" Percy offered.

"You want to get me a spleen?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. One of the necromancers I talked to about reviving Jason has a boyfriend who's training to be a doctor. Every so often the necromancer will summon corpses in varying states of decay for the boyfriend to study on, and now there's just whole bookshelf filled with organs in jars. It's pretty gross, but I can call him to see if he has a spare spleen you can keep, if you want," Percy explained.

"I think I'll pass. But thank you for the offer," Tim said.

Percy just shrugged in response.

The conversation continued to flow like that, filled with jokes and teasing in a way that made them all seem close to normal. Percy was almost able to forget that Jason was a killer, that Bruce didn't wish he had someone less broken for his third son, that Percy himself hadn't been in this house in five years. Dessert was served, a gooey and warm blueberry crumble that Percy scarfed down the second he laid his eyes on it, and Percy laughed without any meanness or bitterness whatsoever. He laughed because he was happy, and that he hadn't had the chance to do that around his mortal family in so, so long.

But the whole time, Percy knew that it wouldn't last. He knew that something would go wrong, that one brick of the tower would give, so he couldn't really say that he was surprised when it happened.

Tim, Stephanie, and Duke were caught in the midst of an argument - Percy had lost the threads of what specifically they were arguing about a few minutes earlier when they switched from discussing pizza toppings to shoes to carpets within a breath. Duke let out a frustrated groan and swished his wrist, sending a flash of light from the chandelier overhead into Stephanie's eyes.

Percy froze, a flash of terror racing under his skin.

No one else at the table reacted in the slightest. Stephanie let out an enraged screech and went to counterattack, only to be held back by Tim. The two of them struggled for a minute before Bruce firmly cleared his throat and forced them to settle down.

"What the fuck was that?" Percy blurted.

Everyone glanced at Percy like he was the crazy one.

"You mean my powers?" Duke asked.

"You have powers," Percy stated, icicles sliding down his spine.

"Yeah. Sorry, did you not know this?" Duke asked, brow furrowed.

No the fuck he did not.

"Should I have?" Percy asked.

"I mean, it's not exactly a secret," Duke said, shrugging. "I just figured you already knew since you've known everything else about us, more or less."

It wasn't as though Percy didn't try to find out more about what was going on with the mortal world while he lived at Camp Half-Blood. It was just that his hands have been full for the past few years. With being homeschooled (campschooled?) by Chiron for most of the year, and the rigorous training he put himself through to prepare for the war against Kronos, Percy had barely spent much time outside of Camp Half-Blood when he wasn't on a quest.

He had started doing regular reconnaissance trips outside of Camp when he had just turned thirteen, going to nearby convenience stores to read newspapers and try to see where Luke was and what he was doing, and it wasn't like the Long Island local papers that Percy could get his hands on were filled with information on the Gotham City vigilantes. Eventually, his recon trips had upgraded from newspapers to online articles from the computers in the library, while simultaneously sending out a beacon to any monsters in the area for him to practice his hydrokinesis on while he booked it back to Camp.

Percy knew about the many children Bruce had taken in thanks to magazines and tabloids, but concrete news about the Bats was hard to come by outside of Gotham or Bludhaven. Percy was able to find out how many kids had been turned into crime-fighting machines while he was away, but somehow he had managed to miss the fact that Duke had powers.

Apparently, he should have been putting more effort into finding more info about the all new Bats in the city, because since fucking when has Bruce been allowing metas in Gotham?

"Well, what can I say? I've always been more brawn than brain," Percy joked with a self-deprecating laugh, instead of explaining that he'd tried to keep up with what the rest of the world was doing without him and failed miserably. Besides, it wasn't like he was lying, per se. He was legitimately better at chopping off limbs than he was math problems.

Out of the corner of his eye, Percy caught Jason frowning and steadfastly ignored it.

"You managing to sneak into Arkham says otherwise," Damian pointed out.

"What, that? Oh, that was just me doing my best Clark impression while pretending to know what the fuck psychology is about. But thank you for calling me smart," Percy chirped, amused when Damian rolled his eyes at him.

"I taught you better than to miss something so relevant when doing recon," Bruce said, eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

Damn you, Bruce, Percy thought. Bruce had realized that Percy wasn't telling the full story, and now he was going to try and find out why exactly Percy slipped up.

The smile Percy carefully held onto slid off his face as he regarded Bruce with icy annoyance. "Forgive me for having other priorities than my adopted father's gaggle of children. I had other shit to do."

"Like?" Bruce asked.

"Bruce, come on," Dick said warningly, sensing the incoming argument.

"Like trying to revive Jason, you asshole," Percy snapped.

"I told you - " Bruce began, but Percy was just about fed up.

"Oh, I remember plenty about your opinion on what I've been up to for the past couple years," Percy said contentiously. He felt his lips pull into the snarl Lupa taught him. "I'm more interested in when you started letting metas into Gotham, personally. Last I checked, metas with dangerous abilities weren't welcome due to the security risk."

"Metas who are trying to attack Gotham aren't welcome due to the security risk," Tim said, rising to Duke's defense.

"We've never kicked every metahuman out, Percy, that would be ridiculous," Dick added.

"If I were to police every meta that enters Gotham, I'd have to have sent you away too," Bruce said.

Before he could stop himself, Percy's hand spasmed around his dessert fork, bending it in half. "You knew?" he demanded, panicking and seething at once. "How long did you know?"

"You're meta?" Jason asked, evidently surprised.

From the look on the others faces, they were too. So it was just Bruce who knew and didn't say anything, only now it was everyone, and Percy could see a million ways that this could go even more desperately wrong.

"How long have you known, Bruce?" Percy demanded, fork crumpling in his quivering fist.

"Since you came to Gotham," Bruce said simply.

"How? How - I didn't even know back then, how could you have possibly known?" Percy asked, a rabbit in a wolf's den.

"I only suspected," Bruce said in what was probably meant to be a placating tone. "It made sense. You have a propensity for combat that developed much quicker than Dick's or Jason's, with an agility and dexterity that was well above average considering the amount of training you had when I took you in. Given that your father isn't on any of your records, and the…odd quality to your blood tests, it was the natural conclusion to come to."

"You have a sample of my blood," Percy whispered, heartbeat echoing in his skull.

When Percy was a child, and Bruce had collected his blood in order to make sure his DNA couldn't accidentally tamper with any of the cases he participated in as well as to guarantee that they had a supply of blood from him in case he ever needed an emergency transfusion, nothing would have seemed too amiss. He hadn't known he was a demigod back then, and was too young to fully access the full scope of his powers. His blood tests would have been irregular, but not too alarming.

But if Bruce had ever so much as glanced at Percy's DNA, he would realize that Percy was only half human. If he ever managed to collect samples from any other demigod, he would realize that Percy was one of hundreds. He already knew that a meta was staying with him, and he knew where his apartment was.

Percy sucked a breath in through his teeth, forcing himself to calm the fuck down and plan. He was the Double Saviour of Olympus. He could handle this.

"Shit," he hissed, standing up and walking towards Bruce's study.

—

The Narrows
Gotham City, New Jersey
2004

"Straighten your legs," Nightwing said, grabbing Blue Shrike by the ankles and adjusting his handstand.

"Like this?" Blue Shrike asked as soon as Nightwing stepped away to check his position again.

"There, better. Now, bend your arms just like a push-up, and when you spring upwards into the flip, lead with your legs," Nightwing advised.

Blue Shrike bent his arms at the elbow, balance wobbling slightly. He quickly recovered, leaping up on his palms and doing a backflip. He landed on his feet with only a slight stumble, and turned to Nightwing, beaming.

"Did you see, Big Blue? I did it!" Blue Shrike said with an ear-to-ear smile.

"Good job, Baby Blue," Nightwing said, holding his hand out for a high-five.

Blue Shrike slapped Nightwing's palm, laughing.

"Good to see you two are having fun," Batman said, appearing out of the shadows with Robin right behind him.

Neither Blue Shrike nor Nightwing startled at his arrival (the former because he had finally learned how to hide his reactions, the latter because he probably spotted Batman a while ago), simply facing him with a smile and a nod.

"What's on the agenda for tonight, B?" Robin asked.

"We have a smuggling ring to dismantle. The fight will be tougher than what we can handle on our own, which is why I called you here, Nightwing," Batman replied.

A gust of wind blew over the rooftop they stood on, making Batman's cape billow dramatically. It was moments like these where Batman looked the most at home, with the navy blue sky behind him and the twinkling lights of the Gotham night skyline beneath his feet.

"The smugglers have been messing around Bludhaven too. I've been doing my best with them, but I can't shut down the whole operation from there alone," Nightwing said, almost defensively, like he wanted to make it extra clear that he was in Gotham for work and not for them. The joke was on him, really, because Alfred had already coerced him into spending a day with them at the Manor.

Suddenly, Batgirl landed on the roof with delicate grace and a swish of her cape. "Sorry I'm late. The Drake kid was tailing me so I had to lose him. He's getting pretty good at sneaking around, though."

Blue Shrike blinked behind his mask, surprised at the mention of his classmate before brushing the thought aside. Tim was just a weirdo who followed the Bats around sometimes, and so long as he didn't see anything that could put their identities in danger, it wasn't that big of a deal.

"Don't worry, we'd never start the fun without you," Nightwing said, shooting her a flirty smile.

"Gross," Blue Shrike said flatly, sharing an eyeroll with Robin.

"What's the plan for the smuggling ring?" Robin asked.

"The smugglers are part of an international group that's trying to make headway in the American market through Gotham. They've been clever enough to avoid capture for weeks now, but I've managed to locate their headquarters to the Bowery. We'll storm it tonight," Batman explained.

"What drugs are they smuggling?" Blue Shrike asked.

"None," Nightwing said with glee, lips quirking into a grin. "We're after an underground saffron ring."

Blue Shrike titled his head to the side in confusion. "Isn't saffron the little red strings that you put in food?"

"Saffron is one of the most expensive spices in the world, sometimes referred to as 'red gold'. Agent A has a store of them in the kitchen," Batman confirmed with a brisk nod.

"I thought saffron was, like, a flower dick," Robin said, nose scrunched.

"Aw, you think I'm a flower?" Nightwing purred, placing a hand to his chest in mock flattery.

"Technically, saffron is more like a flower vagina," Batgirl corrected.

"There are girl flowers and boy flowers?" Blue Shrike asked, horrified and intrigued.

Robin snickered. "Well, you see, when a mommy flower and a daddy flower love each other very much, they share a special little hug called - "

Batman cleared his throat pointedly, glaring at all of them. They shut up, chastised.

"The smugglers are making an exorbitant amount of money off of the saffron industry by illegally adding in fillers, like saffron petals or red fabric. Not only are the dealers that we will handle tonight not technically selling proper saffron, but it's been pushed through various economic sanctions and tariffs in order to maximize their profits," Batman continued explaining.

"The main saffron market dealing is in Iran, where most of the saffron is produced, and Spain, which has entire gangs that hand out fake saffron like candies on Halloween," Batgirl added.

"This new group, however, is using Gotham as their head of base to take advantage of the American market, given the preexisting routes that have been used for drug and sex trafficking for years here," Batman completed.

"Huh. That's a lot of work for girl flower parts," Blue Shrike said.

"Very expensive and luxurious girl flower parts," Robin pointed out.

"But why would this need all of us to take down?" Blue Shrike asked. He and Batman once took down a whole string of labs that were doing homemade meth by themselves, since Robin and Batgirl both had final exams that week. It was barely even that hard, now that Blue Shrike had grown half and inch a few months ago and had drastically improved his ability to fight.

"Because this particular smuggling ring is predominantly run by metahumans," Batman stated. "Their specific abilities are unknown so far, but are unlikely to be highly dangerous. As a precaution, we need all hands on deck."

Batman then proceeded to rattle on about a bunch of super-duper important stuff, like how they would be going in and out of the building, and how many metas they would be dealing with, but all of that stuff bored Blue Shrike to tears. It wasn't like he was trying to avoid paying attention! But a seminar on how paint dries would have been equally as interesting at that moment. He got the gist of it all, which was good enough, right?

Bored out of his mind and restless as Batman droned on, Blue Shrike decided to try out a variation on the gymnastics trick that Nightwing had just taught him. He did a backflip, landing on his palms, then walking around on his hands. Eventually he got tired of that too, deciding to just flop down on his back and stare up at the starless sky.

"Holy mini-me, Batman," Nightwing said, amusement audible in his voice.

Blue Shrike glanced over in the direction of the rest of the Bats curiously, only to be met with the sight of them staring at him with barely-constrained laughter (except for Batman, who was as unflappable as always, though even he seemed to soften).

"What?" Blue Shrike said defensively. "I'm bored. Can I go punch some flower vagina smugglers in the face now?"

"You were certainly more…flamboyant than this, but yes," Batman said to Nightwing, ignoring Blue Shrike entirely.

"It's, like, the circle of child vigilantes! Forever doomed to do gymnastics on a grimy rooftop at two in the morning," Nightwing said, philosophically stroking his nonexistent beard.

"It's two-thirty, actually," Robin said.

"Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?" Nightwing asked him.

"I could ask you the same thing, Dickwing," Robin retorted.

"So is that a no to punching people?" Blue Shrike asked snidely, peeved at being ignored.

"It's a no until you learn the plan so that you don't get hurt," Batman said pointedly.

Blue Shrike groaned, trudging back over to his side of the roof to listen to his instructions.

"This is your first time dealing with metas, Blue. We can't have you getting hurt," Robin said.

"I've fought aliens three whole times!" Blue Shrike protested.

"Aliens that are trying to take over the planet are pretty fucking noticeable, for one. Human or humanoid metas that aren't on our side are tricky, because you have to take one look at them and immediately evaluate how much time and effort you're going to have to put into each one," Nightwing said, idly doing a somersault, and suddenly Blue Shrike could see the resemblance between the two of them.

"Because you can't learn how strong they are just from looking?" Blue Shrike asked.

"Exactly," Batman said with a nod. "Many humanoid metas can pass for non-metas, making it dangerous in battle. Take Superman, for example. He looks completely ordinary when not using his powers, but should he ever become mind-controlled, he could cause astronomical damage. Since the smuggling operation is run by both metas and non-metas, I don't want to run the risk of you accidentally getting into a fight you can't handle."

Blue Shrike scowled. "I can handle some flower vagina smuggler, meta or not!"

"I will pay you to exclusively call saffron flower vaginas for the rest of your life," Nightwing declared.

"Ooh, how much?" Blue Shrike asked, sufficiently distracted.

"Boys, enough," Batman said, sounding increasingly annoyed.

"Wow, someone didn't get any saffron at the gala last night, huh?" Nightwing asked rhetorically, making the rest of the younger vigilantes snicker.

"Nightwing," Batman growled, finally making his eldest and youngest settle down.

"Right, yes, ass kicking time," Nightwing said with an overly-serious nod.

Batman sighed, diving into describing every last detail of their attack strategy for the second time. After he explained and showed diagrams of where they would be entering and exiting, where the saffron crates were stored, and how to differentiate between the leaders and the underlings of the smuggling ring, he finally began to explain the actual plan.

Plan A was more along the lines of an idea rather than an actual plan, while Plans B through E were a series of increasingly intricate contingencies for what was supposed to happen if Plan A went wrong.

According to Plan A, they were supposed to go in, tie up everyone inside for Commissioner Gordon to deal with, and collect as much evidence as they could to help with the ensuing criminal trials and to guarantee that there wouldn't be any more of these smugglers cropping up. Blue Shrike was to avoid fighting as much as possible, focussing on getting evidence and dealing with any potential hostages. If he did get into a fight, his job was to stay within the line of sight of one of the others just in case.

Blue Shrike pouted when Batman explained that part to him, only because he was the only one who had to have those instructions, and it made him sound like such a baby. Not even Robin had to do them, and he was the second youngest! But Blue Shrike knew when to shut up, so he didn't whine aloud.

When Batman asked him how he would make a Plan F if he could, Blue Shrike couldn't hold in his complains this time. It was a stupid test to see how good he was at coming up with contingencies, and the other vigilantes right next to him were all looking at him like they already knew the answer. It took him a couple of seconds before he hesitantly suggested damaging the water pipes as a distraction since their gear was water proof while the smuggler's clothing likely wouldn't be, and he had always been a strong swimmer. Batman ruffled his hair approvingly, though, so that made him giggle.

"And once we're all done, B's gonna give them all the good ole eviction notice," Robin said as soon as they began to go to the Bowery, leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

"Eviction notice?" Blue Shrike asked.

"Metas who actively try to hurt Gotham are sent away," Batman explained.

"Why's that?" Blue Shrike asked, sending his grappling hook across the street and flying to the other side like the bird he named himself after.

Nightwing elegantly landed beside him. "Because Gotham's an active disaster zone at any given moment, Baby Blue. Can you imagine having to spend all night chasing after the Rogues and trying to stop them from blowing up a whole city block, just to have to deal with some metas robbing a bank the next morning? It'd be impossible."

"Oh," Blue Shrike said, feeling exhausted and overwhelmed just at Nightwing's description. "That makes sense. Where are the metas supposed to go when they get kicked out, then?"

"Wherever they can safely find a home. There are several charities and support groups dedicated to helping metas find communities where they can feel safe and learn to manage their abilities, many of which are supported by Wayne Enterprises," Batman stated.

"What if someone who has superpowers is born here, though?" Blue Shrike asked.

"Then they will stay with their families and friends, and can seek financial support from donors should they choose to. Metas who move here without the intention of joining gangs or supporting the Rogues are also free to live here. But I keep close tabs on any meta in Gotham who doesn't fall into those categories, ally or enemy," Batman explained.

They arrived two roads down from where the saffron smuggler's headquarters was, stopping to survey the area in person. Blue Shrike mentally ran through all of the plans Batman told him, visualizing how they would look one last time before the raid began.

"You guys ready?" Batgirl asked.

"Born ready!" Blue Shrike declared enthusiastically.

"Stick to the plan. Stay safe," Batman said.

And with that, they were off. Slipping in through the windows, lingering in the shadows, the five vigilantes work for the night had begun.

The mission itself was…grueling, to put it mildly.

At first, he stuck to Plan A completely. He was quiet and sneaky, plugging the flash drive he was given into every computer he saw, skimming through the records of shipment dates and contents as he did so, while snapping pictures of as many unmasked faces of people holding weapons that he could.

But no plan survives contact with the enemy, so eventually he was spotted and brought into the fight itself. Usually, he'd have been thrilled. Combat was something he was especially good at, when it came to vigilantism, and it was so much more fulfilling to punch someone in the face than it was to stealthily gather evidence. And yet, despite only a third of the saffron smugglers having powers, the whole group put up a wildly fierce fight.

Blue Shrike couldn't tell who was about to fire a gun at him and who was about to make the wind blow so strong he was nearly knocked over. Every one of them, meta or not, was armed to the teeth and trained in combat, not to mention how the Bats were easily outnumbered. One of the metas could manipulate the thin copper discs they kept in their pockets, tossing them at impossible angles, with more accuracy than Blue Shrike could ever have with a batarang. Another one could shift the texture of the ground into something rubbery or slippery or rocky on a whim, making it nigh impossible to move.

As much as Blue Shrike would never admit it to the man's face, Batman was right about how it was different to go up against a bunch of metas like that.

No wonder Nightwing had to come all the way from Bludhaven for this, Blue Shrike thought as a bullet nearly clipped his arm.

Before he could even think of counterattacking the gunman, Robin sprinted up to him and dislocated his shoulder, knocking him out with a single punch. Robin's eyes ran over Blue Shrike once more, double checking if he had gotten hit by the bullet, before they both turned back to the fight.

There were probably a dozen or so times during the raid where Blue Shrike was about to land a blow on who he thought was a non-meta, only to get smacked in the face with an eagle foot that was very much not there before. The stupid eagle-footed person left some nasty cuts all over his right arm. He had to do the rest of the fight with his non-dominant hand. Yippee.

In the end, the raid took over two whole hours, but it felt like Blue Shrike was fighting in that headquarters in the Bowery for ages. As soon as the police swooped in to do their arrests, the vigilantes slinked out of there and went back to the Batcave.

After they had all changed out of their suits and cleaned up, dressed in the freshly-laundered pajamas Alfred had kept waiting for them, each of them was sat down on a hospital bed and had their injuries tended to by Alfred. Percy had received what was almost certainly a couple of gallons of antibiotic ointment on his arm to prevent and infection, which stung like hell, but otherwise he was fairly uninjured.

"How long do I have to wear these bandages, Alfie?" Percy asked, prodding at his mummified arm with a curious look.

"Until you heal, Master Percy. About three weeks, I would guess," Alfred replied, threading some stitches through a gash on Bruce's shin.

"Well, at least the raid was a success," Dick said. He was sitting beside Babs, chatting aimlessly since Alfred had already taken care of their injuries.

"It took forever, though," Jason said.

"Just wait until you start going undercover for days at a time. Then you'll start thinking of these like quick little errands," Dick replied, laughing softly.

"I think you can head to bed now, Cuddlebird," Bruce said around gritted teeth as Alfred finished up his stitches.

"Why?" Percy asked. He was practically dead on his feet, but everyone else was awake, and he was going to be eleven years old in three months, so he could stay up with them after a raid now. Just because Jason was a teenager and Dick and Babs were adults and Bruce and Alfred were even bigger adults. There was no way he was going to be left out.

"He's going to yell at me and he doesn't want you to hear it," Jason said, fingers ghosting over a patch of gauze on his cheek. It was clear he wanted to scratch at it, but couldn't with Alfred right there.

"I'm not going to yell," Bruce said.

"No, you're going to scold," Jason said, rolling his eyes so hard they almost got stuck that way. "I was a bit too rough on one guy, Bruce. That guy was an illegal smuggler who nearly shot Percy in the arm, by the way!"

"And it's good that you defended your brother. But dislocating his shoulder and giving him a severe concussion was too much. Leaving him unconscious in the middle of a fight was dangerous - he could have gotten killed," Bruce said firmly.

"Percy could've gotten killed," Jason retorted scathingly. "Or do you not care about that part?"

Hurt, genuine hurt, fluttered across Bruce's face, and Percy frowned.

"That was mean, Jay," Percy said disapprovingly.

"Right. I'm sorry, B. I didn't mean to say that you don't care about Percy," Jason mumbled contritely, hanging his head low.

The hurt was gone from Bruce's expression, but the tension remained. "I know. You're angry, and you're lashing out. I get it."

Bruce was about to continue - or maybe he would have continued arguing with Jason - if Percy yawning so wide his jaw cracked didn't interrupt him.

"Maybe I should go to bed," Percy admitted, blinking his suddenly-weighing-a-thousand-pounds eyelids.

"If only someone could have suggested that a while ago," Bruce commented dryly.

"Carry me up there?" Percy asked, staring up at Bruce pleadingly.

"Need I remind you, Master Bruce," Alfred said, cleaning up all of his medical supplies. "That your leg is currently injured."

"I can handle taking him to his bedroom," Bruce replied, scooping Percy into his arms and holding him against his chest.

Percy leaned in to the touch, eyes having gotten too heavy to keep open by now.

He was asleep before Bruce even left the Batcave.

Chapter Text

The Narrows
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

Percy only needed a single thought to rip the water out of the pipes and into Bruce's study. He only needed one more to weave it into a barrier that stretched around the grandfather clock from the rest of the room, making it so dense that only he could enter. No one else could interfere.

He as good as sprinted towards the Batcomputer and searched for his file, only to find it sealed. Percy only bothered to try and crack it once before his jaw clenched, knowing that every second he spent inside was a second everyone upstairs could use to get in. He stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled loud enough to summon Lea, who appeared in the inky darkness of the Batcave, sniffing at him curiously.

"Get Leo from Camp Half-Blood and bring him here immediately. Make sure he has his tool belt with him," Percy commanded in Ancient Greek.

Lea barked an affirmative, disappearing and reappearing within a minute. Leo was brought with her, tool belt around his waist and patting at the flames on his clothes.

"Woah, Percy, where are we? I was in Bunker Nine, and then Lea showed up and - " Leo began confusedly.

"We're in Batman's lair right now," Percy interrupted.

Upstairs, he could feel someone prodding at the water barrier in Bruce's study. It wouldn't take long for them to try using one of the other entrances to the cave; they had to hurry.

Leo's chatter was abruptly cut off as he looked around him with wide eyes. "Holy crow. Why are we here?" he asked.

"Because Batman has a file on me. I need you to delete it for good," Percy explained curtly.

"Got it," Leo said, quickly turning serious. He rummaged around his magic tool belt for a celestial bronze device he had, one that could manipulate mortal technology. He attached it to the Batcomputer, hands flying across the keys. "Why does the Dark Knight have a file on you in his secret lair, by the way?"

"Because I'm suspicious. How much longer?" Percy asked, brusque.

"Five minutes, give or take. This guy's good at what he does," Leo replied appreciatively, chewing on his lip in concentration.

"Of course he is - he's Batman. But I can feel the vigilantes messing with the water barrier I used to block off the cave, so if we can wipe all demigod-related information sooner rather than later, that would be great," Percy said.

"The vigilantes are here?" Leo asked, pulling his eyes from the screen to glance at Percy nervously.

"It's their home base. But I have a minimum of seven other half-bloods to get out of this city, so I can't jump ship quite yet," Percy said, fingers digging into his biceps from where he was crossing his arms over his chest.

"If I'm scrubbing all the demigod info from this computer, then it's going to take a while. I'll need you to cover for me in a fight if they show up," Leo noted, glaring at his device as it beeped and chimed.

"Done," Percy said. He grabbed his mortal steel blade, Nuisance, from his belt, pressing the button on the hilt that made it extend from a knife to a sword. Riptide would be useless in a fight against the Bats, but alongside Nuisance, he would still have his powers and his fists. "I'm going to seal the other entrances. Keep working," Percy ordered.

It was fairly easy to take the moisture dripping off the stalagmites in the cave and turn it into another barrier blocking where the Batmobile came and went, but they were the water was scarcer and full of minerals. Percy briefly considered trying to use the river or harbour, before ruling both out since they would cause too much damage if he tried to pull the water all the way to the Manor. The other blockade turned out more thin and fragile than he would have liked, but it would suffice for now.

"How's it going?" Percy asked Leo as soon as he was done.

"Oh, it's going swell. I've got your file wiped - I also saved it onto my device in case you ever want to take a look. I've also stolen mine and Annabeth's files. I think the only people without anything in this system on them is Nico, Hazel, Jason, and Thalia, considering how their histories are the hardest to trace. There are even files on Grover and Chiron from when they went undercover at Gotham Academy Middle School for your extraction," Leo said, mouth and hands moving a mile a minute as he raced to remove as much information as possible.

Percy frowned. "I didn't realize Batman paid such close attention to us."

I didn't realize Bruce has been watching me so closely ever since I left, Percy thought. Though, in hindsight, that was ridiculous. Percy was a trained vigilante that had ran away from Gotham, appearing all over the country with a trail of property damage behind him not long after.

"What can I say? You make a strong impression," Leo said. "What's the status on the barriers? I'm in no mood to fight Batman and the fifteen other ones. I don't know about you, Percy, but I'm not one for having a bunch of masked mortals hunt me down for sport."

"The barriers are intact. If the come in through the second one, we might be in trouble, but it's a harder access point. The first one would be nearly impossible to get through, unless they figure out how to evaporate all of it without passing out from the steam. But it's too thick to walk through, and the surface tension is too strong for them to cut, so we should have some more time," Percy explained.

Leo's celestial bronze device chimed, and the son of Hephaestus grinned.

"There! All of our info's been scrubbed," Leo said victoriously. He grabbed his device and slid it back into his tool belt, pleased.

"Good. Let's bounce," Percy said, releasing both water barriers and letting the Bats in.

Lea trotted over to them with her tongue lolling out of her mouth, having been preoccupied with the massive penny in the Batcave while Percy and Leo did their work. The two demigods grabbed onto Lea, who wagged her tail as she pulled them through the shadows and spat them back out in Percy's apartment.

Jason - flying Jason, not murdering Jason - took one look at the fact that Leo was there and whatever expression was on Percy's face before wincing.

"What happened?" Jason asked, the scar on his lips warping as his expression pinched.

Percy was too busy racing to the kitchen, grabbing as many mugs and cups and bowls as he could, filling each one to the brim with water and setting them down all over the apartment. It could never hurt to have an extra weapon on hand, and he didn't want his landlord to give him shit if he cracked the faucet or pipes. He was aware that he could've used Nuisance instead, but that was bound to get bloody, and Percy was in no mood to have to bleach his own floorboards and once again deal with his landlord giving him shit.

"Turns out, Batman had information on almost all of us. He even had a sample of Percy's DNA, so we had to do some robbery to fix that situation. If nothing else, it was certainly an interesting way to get my evening uprooted," Leo stated, looking vaguely queasy after the shadowtravel.

Jason's eyes went wide with panic. "DNA? But if you're a demigod - "

" - You're DNA is fucked and super noticeable. Yup. That's why I had to get Leo to help me out," Percy cut in, placing one last glass of water on the coffee table before realizing that, depending on how the next few hours went, he would either have to do a lot of dishes or would have to buy a whole new set of kitchenware.

"I stole and stored all of the info he had on us too; I'll go over it back in Bunker Nine to make sure we don't have any loose ends," Leo said, a tad smugly.

"Thank you, Leo," Percy said sincerely. "Now, I'd suggest you two book it soon. There's going to be an interrogation here any minute now, and I don't want either of you to get in trouble."

"If you think you're going to need all this water, then it would be best to have backup nearby," Leo argued, setting the tips of his fingers on fire.

"I don't want either of you in the room when Batman or whoever else shows up here," Percy said with finality, making deliberate eye contact with Jason.

Jason nodded, understanding that it was most likely going to be Percy's adopted dad who showed up, and that some pretty sensitive information was bound to be discussed.

"Will you be okay?" Jason asked.

"I can handle a Bat or two on my own, Cumulonimbus. Stay near Lea and keep your phones on you in case I call," Percy said.

Jason and Leo didn't look particularly thrilled at being kicked out, but they knew better than to argue with Percy when he was like this. Without further ado, they were shadowtravelled to Camp again, leaving Percy to lie in the bed he made.

Percy took a breath, sprawling back on the couch and turning on the TV. He was the image of lazy Saturday relaxation as he waited for someone to come after him. Maybe it would be Batman himself, growling out his questions about Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. Maybe it would be Red Hood, finger on the trigger as he demanded why it was that Percy couldn't manage to permanently kill his murderer. Most likely, it would be at least three of them at once. That would be smartest when dealing with a meta who has already proved to be combative and well-trained, strategically speaking.

So when a knock his apartment door came after less than an hour, Percy was only marginally surprised, if only because he had assumed whoever was going to interrogate him would just break in through the window. If this was their attempt at a decoy, to get Percy to move to the front door in order to sneak in, then they would have to quit assuming that Percy was some sort of moron.

"The door's unlocked," Percy called out, not taking his eyes off of the TV screen.

He heard it open and shut, heard the sound of footsteps brushing against the doormat before padding along the wooden floor.

"You really should lock your door," Batman said. No, not Batman. This was Bruce, lacking his cowl and cape, speaking without the naive flirtation of Brucie and the intimidating growl of Batman.

Bruce stepped into the living room, taking note of the many vessels of water Percy had laid on every possible horizontal surface. The two of them took a moment to assess the other, both of them on edge and still wearing their clothes from dinner. Bruce was holding a bag of something in one hand, with the other clenching and unclenching in and out of a fist. It was an unusual display of nervousness, and one he could have suppressed if he didn't want Percy to know about it.

But why would he want to show that he had a stake in this interaction? Percy was doing the exact opposite, just like Bruce taught him. He was sitting - lounging, really - whereas Bruce was standing stiffly. The only thing that revealed Percy's tenseness was the cups of water on the floors, counter tops, and tables.

Percy reached for the remote and lowered the TV volume to a murmur. "I didn't want to have to get up to let you in."

"I could have been a robber, for all you knew," Bruce pointed out.

"Oh, no," Percy said flatly. "Not a robber. Whatever could I do to defend myself against one of those."

"Very funny. Mind if I sit?" Bruce asked.

"Go ahead," Percy said, gesturing to one of the few couch cushions that was not cradling a bowl of water.

"Thank you. And thank you for telling us that the Joker is immortal," Bruce said, taking a seat.

So they were going to talk about that whole fiasco first, then. Percy had assumed this interaction would consist of a whole lot more of Bruce demanding he explain what was going on with his powers and why he felt the need to wipe his file off the Batcomputer.

Percy narrowed his eyes at Bruce thoughtfully, before deciding to tell him as much as he safely could. Hopefully, if he gave enough information about the Joker, then he wouldn't have to talk too much on his powers and how he discovered them.

"The Joker's been around for centuries. Sometimes people are able to kill him. Most aren't. He has used different names, obviously, but he can only be dead for a few years at a time. And, no, it doesn't matter what happens to the body. It just rebuilds itself," Percy explained. There, that was probably good enough. Now the Joker sounded like a guy with an insane healing factor, rather than a monster made of golden dust that feasted on demigod children. Percy didn't know if it was just surprise at Bruce being here and not Batman, or if he was just an idiot, but something possessed him to elaborate. "Every since you showed up and started fighting him, though, it's been easier. He hasn't had as many chances to do harm."

"That's why we do it," Bruce responded easily.

Percy opted not to tell Bruce that the Joker had eaten what was probably thousands of half-bloods. That discussion could be saved for another day - or better yet, never.

"What's with the bag?" Percy asked, pointing to Bruce's hand.

"Oh, this. Dick mentioned that you had a fondness for passionflower tea, so I thought I'd bring some," Bruce said, bordering on awkward as he opened the bag and handing Percy a box. It was the exact same brand he liked, too, that fucker.

"Thank you," Percy said, grabbing the box and examining it. It didn't look tampered with, but it was incredibly easy to reseal packages.

"Dick also mentioned that you were now religious," Bruce continued. "Hellenic polytheism, if I'm not mistaken."

"You're not. I…I converted not too long after I left the Manor," Percy said, not technically lying. He did start believing in the gods right after he ran away, but mainly because he had to fight the Minotaur and live in a summer camp full of demigods. Besides, Percy couldn't have exactly denied it when a floating green trident appeared above his head during his first capture the flag game.

"I noticed that you didn't sacrifice a portion of your food during dinner today. Was that because you don't do that particular practice, or because you didn't want to create a scene?" Bruce asked politely.

Of course Bruce would notice that he didn't burn part of his food. Of course Bruce would realize that it was something he usually did. At Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter, it was something that occurred at every meal, to the point of not being noteworthy anymore. On quests, it was reserved for specific pleas to the gods, since every scrap of food could be your last meal. But it wasn't even something that crossed his mind in Wayne Manor.

"I think a scene was made either way," Percy commented, amused.

"It certainly was. Though, I wanted to let you know that if you ever come back to the Manor for another meal, you wouldn't be judged for sacrificing some of your food," Bruce said.

Percy blinked, rendered speechless for half a moment. "I appreciate the gesture, Bruce, but I think Alfred would hunt me down if I ever wasted his food and mucked up a fireplace at the same time."

"If this is something that's important to you, then you should be able to do it. You may have to clean up the ashes yourself, but none of us will stop you," Bruce refuted steadily.

"Is the reason you're so supportive of my religion because you think it's why I don't kill permanently?" Percy asked, tilting his head to the side.

"I think the act of killing someone, even temporarily, is always extreme. But I appreciate the fact that you take care to only kill those who can be brought back," Bruce said, evasive.

"Anyone can come back. Jason came back. Both of us know plenty of others who did too. Revival just comes easier to monsters more so than humans," Percy stated.

"All the same," Bruce acquiesced.

"Did you all seriously think that I would kill someone for good?" Percy asked.

"More of my children have taken lives than those who haven't. Many of them would and have done so multiple times," Bruce said delicately.

"And I'm guessing the odds of all of those being out of self defence are low, huh?" Percy asked rhetorically, rolling his eyes.

It was unbelievable. There was no good reason to end a human life so permanently, regardless of if you believed in any form of afterlife. Percy had been to the Underworld half a dozen times in the past four years, sure, but even if he had never been a demigod, he would have been against murder as anything other than a last resort.

Knowing what awaited the souls of the wicked made the concept of killing even worse, however. Dante was wildly incorrect about eternal punishment being fiery lakes and ceaseless storms. Eternal punishment was Sisyphus and his boulder, Tantalus and his starvation, and Ixion and his burning wheel. Even if the person who was killed wasn't a terrible person, the most likely outcome for them would be the endlessly dreary Fields of Asphodel.

Getting into Elysium was rare and reserved for the exceptional. Robbing someone of their chance to achieve a good afterlife was among some of the cruelest things Percy could imagine. To think that Jason, his relentlessly kind brother, who Percy had loved and lost, would stoop that low was somehow even worse.

"Well, not all of them value human life like you and I do," Bruce said, wry.

"Did they never listen to you?" Percy couldn't help but ask, knowing that you couldn't spend a week in Bruce's custody without being aware of his opinions on killing.

Bruce let out a pained sigh. "No. No, I don't think they did."

Percy didn't know how to respond to that. Out of habit, he began to swirl some of the water in the cup nearest to him, the familiar motions soothing. It was something he had done a million times before since he had discovered his powers, and one that never failed to drain the tension from his shoulders.

"How long have you been practicing your water manipulation?" Bruce asked.

Fucking took you long enough to bring it up, Percy thought.

"I've been practicing for years, now. I would have been able to learn it earlier if I had known I was a meta sooner," he replied without hesitation.

He would have been able to learn plenty of things earlier if he had known he was a meta sooner. His first quest, for starters, would have been infinitely easier. He would have had a better grasp on the fact that he had built-in battle instincts and the ability to talk to horses; he would have been able to pick up on his water manipulation sooner; he would have been able to tap into his heightened strength, speed, and senses back when he was still a vigilante and not just a demigod hero.

"Do you think I didn't tell you out of malice?" Bruce asked, brow furrowed.

"I think you didn't tell me because if you did, you would have to officially kick me out of Gotham as part of your no-meta policy," Percy responded. He paused, before amending, "At least, that's what I thought. Duke having powers changes things."

"I didn't tell you because it didn't matter, Percy," Bruce said.

Percy barked out a laugh. "It didn't matter that I'm a meta? Are you shitting me right now, B?"

"Yes, it didn't matter. When I took you in, you were a terrified little boy hiding in the Penguin's warehouse. It didn't matter that your blood tests came back strangely. It didn't matter that you were unnaturally good at fighting. What mattered was that you needed a home," Bruce insisted.

"So you were just never going to tell me about this?" Percy demanded.

"If you ever became a risk to yourself or to others as a result, yes," Bruce said.

Percy could feel his lip curl into a sneer. "You didn't think that I would have wanted to know either way? That I would want to be aware of something as fucking massive as the fact that I have powers? What right do you have to withhold that information from me?"

Without waiting for Bruce to reply, Percy lifted the water out of each cup and bowl he had set up earlier, swirling it through the air like a miniature storm. The wrath of the Earthshaker's son was bottled and displayed in a simple living room, violent but very carefully not damaging any of Percy's belongings. He let some strands of water lash out like whips, creating small tears in Bruce's clothes. It was nothing a needle and thread couldn't fix in under half an hour, but his point was more than made. Percy then returned the water to each up, stopping them from sloshing over and spilling.

"That's very impressive hydrokinesis," Bruce noted, wary enough to make Percy smirk.

"And I worked hard to master it. Can you imagine what kind of head start I would've had if I had learnt all this sooner?" Percy asked, voice hard.

"I was your legal guardian, Percy. You weren't even ten years old yet, and had stumbled home to find your mother and stepfather murdered. I couldn't force you to grapple with your reality like that, not when you had just ran to Gotham and had come into my care. And that's not even touching on the fact that I didn't have any concrete proof that you were meta," Bruce said, determined.

"I lived at the Manor for three years, and I had to find out I was meta from a bunch of strangers who recognized my powers," Percy hissed.

"The summer camp you've been living in - " Bruce began.

"Oh, don't try to change the damn subject to avoid the fact that you didn't want me to come home," Percy interrupted.

"What?" Bruce asked, looking truly shocked. "No. No, of course not. I wanted you to come home more than anything."

"You explained to me your no-meta rule. I've seen you kick dangerous metas out of the city. What the hell did you want me to think when I realized I was meta too?" Percy said, eyes stinging.

"That you were welcome here regardless of what abilities you may have," Bruce replied without missing a beat.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. "I would have come back. If I'd known you would have let me."

"You're my son, Percy. How could I ever not want you around?" Bruce asked.

When Percy had run away, Dick was off planet and Jason was dead. All that was left was Percy; the youngest, the weakest, the least favoured. Percy had been suffocating in a too-big Manor that felt hollow without his big brother, with Bruce putting more and more restrictions on his patrol hours without ever saying so much as hello to him. At the time, leaving Gotham had felt like something that worked in everyone's interests.

"Oh," Percy said quietly.

Bruce reached out, slowly dragging his palm through Percy's hair and settling his hand on the nape of his neck. The gesture was unfairly comforting, and suddenly Percy remembered the old nickname Bruce had used to call him by.

Cuddlebird, Bruce had called him before Jason died, after the way he had clung to everyone like a baby cockatoo.

It was a habit he had unconsciously picked up from his mom, who used to cradle him close and stroke his hair to comfort him whenever Gabe was getting drunkenly violent. He had brought it with him to Gotham, sticking himself to Bruce or Jason the same way a burr sticks to the fabric of your pants after a long hike. And it had stayed with him in Camp Half-Blood, where he usually draped himself over Annabeth like a blanket while she sketched blueprints. He didn't even realize how unusual it was until his very first quest, where Luke had pointed out that most kids their age didn't always have at least one of their limbs wrapped around someone else.

"Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I realized that you had run away with nothing but a note saying where you went? Do you know what it what like to realize that you had left and didn't want me to follow you?" Bruce continued, face pained.

"I thought you didn't want me," Percy admitted.

"Never," Bruce insisted, like the thought was ridiculous.

Part of Percy wanted to act like he was a little kid again, to curl up in Bruce's arms and let all his pains dissolve. But the smarter half of his brain knew better. Ever since he ran away, the fact that Bruce was his dad was irrelevant compared to the fact that Poseidon was his father, and Percy had shit to get done. He knew that Bruce still wanted answers, and that if he let himself be weak, he would give them at the cost of the safety of his whole community. And yet he couldn't stop himself from wanting to close his eyes and simply exist with his dad.

—

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, New Jersey
2004

Percy was way too nervous, considering it was just a tie.

It was a stupid little tie, something his teacher had passed around along with buckets of fabric markers, most with the ink halfway dried out. The ties were for Father's Day, and everyone was supposed to draw something that their dad found special. Percy had taken one look at the long strip of blank cloth and immediately reached for the black and blue markers.

While all the artsy kids drew meticulous patterns, like polka dots or stripes in vibrant colours, all the less artsy kids (like Percy) scribbled something incoherent. Percy had rotated his tie ninety degrees before drawing a string of black boxes on the lower half, each one filled with yellow squares. Above the boxes was a navy blue sky, but then it looked too similar to the black, so Percy added a layer of light blue and purple too. He had even tried to draw some gargoyles on top of some of the buildings.

In all honesty, it looked like a disaster. What was supposed to be a recreation of the Gotham City skyline looked like a zig-zag mess of black and blue, with messy lumps on top. It was probably the ugliest piece of clothing ever created, and Percy had seen some ugly outfits at some of the galas he was forced to attend.

But it was Father's Day today, and Percy didn't want to give Bruce nothing when Bruce had given him so much. Bruce had taken him into his home, adopted him, and let him fight alongside him during the night. The least Percy could do was give him a hideous tie for Father's Day.

Initially, Percy's plan was to give it to him during breakfast, but that had gone sideways since they had to fight Mr. Freeze last evening, who had blasted Percy with his freeze gun right off the bat. Percy spent most of last night shivering and trying to escape. When that failed, he tried to goad Mr. Freeze into letting him loose and fighting him like a man through chattering teeth, which had only earned an impassive stare.

You aren't worth the trouble of upsetting the Bat or the hungry beasts, Mr. Freeze had said, before telling his goons to put more money from the bank's vault into their bags and book it before any vigilantes showed up.

Once Percy was thawed out of his stupid ice cage like a snow cone in the sun, he was wrapped in heated blankets and taken back home. Alfred fed him chicken noodle soup and hot chocolate by the gallon, and Percy went to sleep beside the crackling fireplace with his socks layered and mittens on his hands. There was no frostbite or hypothermia, thankfully, but Bruce still was firm about him being benched until the weekend so that he could recover.

When he woke up, Bruce had already left for work, which Percy kicked himself for. So now Percy was in the entrance room, feet swinging back and forth since he was still too short to touch the ground when he was sitting in most chairs, waiting for Bruce to come back from work so he could give him the tie and then run away to live in the woods forever out of embarrassment.

The door swung open and Bruce walked in, briefcase in hand and tiredness visible in his frame. If Percy had to hedge a guess, he would say that Bruce probably had a meeting with some of the Wayne Enterprises shareholders, and that was why he was looking so grumpy.

"Welcome home, Master Bruce," Alfred said, taking Bruce's coat like how he always did whenever someone came through the door.

"Hello, Alfred. And hello to you too, Percy. What are you doing here?" Bruce asked, frustration melting away as a smile took its place on his face.

"Happy Father's Day," Percy said, shoving the tie into his hands, eyes steadily looking at the floor.

"You made something for me?" Bruce asked. Percy couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded surprised.

Percy nodded jerkily. "It's a tie. I know it's not very pretty, but everyone in class was doing it, and I didn't want to give you nothing for Father's Day."

"It's the city," Bruce said, running the fabric through his hands.

"You can tell?" Percy asked, shocked as he raised his head and met Bruce's eyes.

"Of course I can. I can see the WE building over here. And this one must be the Gotham Gazette building. I think I can recognize most of the silhouettes you drew. You even added gargoyles on the appropriate buildings," Bruce said, wondrous.

"I didn't think anyone would be able to notice it," Percy said.

"It's beautiful," Bruce declared, taking off the tie currently around his neck and replacing it with the one Percy made him. He crammed his old one - a fancy piece of dotted blue silk - into his pocket before smoothing out his new one. "See? It's the most perfect tie I own."

"You sure you aren't just lying?" Percy asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

"I promise. I'll wear it to work tomorrow, to show all of my employees," Bruce guaranteed.

"Really?"

"Really."

"I don't think it'll match your clothes."

"I'm the CEO, Percy. What are they going to do other than notice that you made something thoughtful for me?" Bruce asked.

"If you say so," Percy said doubtfully, but he let it slide. It wasn't like anyone he came across would make fun of him to his face about it.

"Why don't you go get ready for dinner? I think I can smell lasagna," Bruce suggested.

"Okay," Percy said, hugging him quickly before running upstairs to wash his hands.

Dinner was, in fact, lasagna, and it was fucking delicious. There was also garlic bread, and Percy ate four slices of it because it was that tasty. Slowly but surely, the knot of nerves in his test loosened as Bruce kept on wearing the tie he made. It seemed as though he actually liked the accursed object.

"Thank you for dinner, Alfie," Jason said once he was finished. Percy immediately echoed him, mentally yelling at his big brother for always saying it first and making Percy look ungrateful.

"Of course. Would any of you care for dessert?" Alfred asked.

"No thanks. I have one last final to study for, so I should get going on that," Jason said politely.

"Why do you still have exams? School finished for me a week ago," Percy pointed out.

"Because high school," Jason said miserably. "Don't worry, Perce, you'll have to go through it too when you're my age."

Percy's nose scrunched. "Nu-uh. I just won't write them."

"Have fun failing school, then, dummy," Jason snorted, slipping away to bury his head in textbooks before Percy could reply.

"I think I'll skip dessert tonight, too. I have some more work to get done before sunset," Bruce said, standing up.

"The serial robberies?" Percy asked with intrigue. "Can I help?"

"Sure thing, Cuddlebird," Bruce said, smiling at him.

"I suggest you stay for dinner, Master Bruce. I made cheesecake today," Alfred said, picking up their plates and taking them into the kitchen before Bruce could respond.

Percy blinked at that. Dessert was usually a small chocolate or candy, and only on special occasions would Alfred make something himself. Percy didn't realize that Father's Day was important enough to warrant homemade baked goods, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"That's odd," Bruce said, soft and pensive. "Alfred typically saves cheesecake for my birthday."

"Well, Father's Day is basically like a birthday to all the dads out there, so maybe it counts," Percy offered.

"Maybe," Bruce said noncommittally.

"I hope it's chocolate cheesecake. Ooh, or raspberry! No, wait, it's Father's Day, so that means it's probably dad-flavoured," Percy added, becoming increasingly excited.

"How would a cheesecake become dad-flavoured? Wouldn't that be sort of…cannibalistic?" Bruce asked, amused.

"Well, I wouldn't know. You're the dad here, B, you should be the expert," Percy huffed, rolling his eyes.

"And yet, I find myself shockingly unfamiliar with the subject," Bruce quipped. He then paused, looking at Percy thoughtfully before adding, "Though, I do think New York style cheesecake is consistently the most popular, so we can assume that the majority of dads across the country also prefer that flavour."

"I find myself shockingly unfamiliar with the subject, so I'm just going to take a super educated guess," Percy mocked, voice low and growly in his best Batman impression.

"Did Jason and Dick teach you how to do that?" Bruce asked, chuckling.

Percy nodded proudly. "Yup! I'm getting pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"Give it a couple of years and you'll be spot on," Bruce agreed.

At that moment, Alfred stepped back into the room with a plate in each hand, setting them down in front of Percy and Bruce. The cheesecake slice was covered in a purple-blue sauce that stood out against the stark whiteness of the cake itself. The thick blueberry topping dripped down the sides of the still-warm cake, pooling on the plate and soaking the entire slice in blue goodness. Then Percy realized that Alfred dyed Bruce's favourite dessert with Percy's favourite colour, and he gasped aloud.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said, right as the butler walked back out with a twinge of smugness in his steps.

Percy was too excited to give thanks, grabbing his spoon and digging in.

The cheesecake was creamy and sweet, and the graham cracker crust was buttery and crumbly, adding a nice crunch to each bite. The dense, rich taste was offset by the sharp tang of the blueberry sauce, with the soft blueberries making every other bite just the tiniest bit chewy. It was like heaven was throwing a party on Percy's tongue.

"It's super yummy," Percy said between bites. "What do you think, Dad?"

Percy froze.

Oh God. Why the fuck did I just say that?!

It was one thing for Bruce to legally adopt him, to make Percy a Wayne on paper and call Percy his son every now and then. It was another thing entirely for Percy to return the favour. When Percy had asked Bruce to adopt him on his tenth birthday, he had asked Bruce if he would be his dad. Bruce had said yes, and all the necessary documents were written and signed, and now Percy had a dad. But that wasn't the same as calling Bruce dad. Especially to his face.

On every Father's Day before Percy had came to Gotham, he would just give his mom an extra present that year. Percy could remember being really young, back when Gabe had only just been introduced into his life, and asking his mom if Gabe was his dad now. Mom's face had gone tight, before telling him that Percy's dad was someone very special who loved him very much, but Gabe was not him. When Percy had asked who was supposed to be his dad, if not Gabe, Mom just said that she was sure Percy would meet him someday. It had seemed improbable, given that she used to always say that Percy's biological father was lost at sea, but she had died before Percy had gotten old enough to properly question her about it.

Now her words rang in Percy's ears. Percy's dad was supposed to be someone special who loved him. Bruce fit those requirements, and it wasn't like the position of dad was being held by anyone at the moment. Bruce had two sons already. He had Dick, who was the incarnation of perfect sons and perfect vigilantes, and he had Jason, who had a heart so big everyone in the world could feel it beat with the amount of love he had. Percy was just the newest in a line of dark-haired, light-eyed children plucked off the streets and brought into Wayne Manor.

And yet Bruce still cared, was still everything that a dad should be. He looked out for Percy after Mom died, taught him how to be safe and strong and part of something so much bigger than any one man. He'd look away when Percy put blue food colouring in his glass of milk in the mornings, and act dramatically shocked when Alfred chewed him out for it. He would carry Percy on his back during photoshoots and drape his cape over Percy's shoulders on slow nights of patrol.

Percy was pretty sure that Mom would have felt comforted by the fact that Bruce was the one to take care of him after she died. However, none of that meant that Bruce wanted Percy to call him dad.

Percy shoved another bite of cheesecake in his mouth, praying that Bruce didn't notice. Of course, Bruce did notice; he was the World's Greatest Detective, and Percy had just called him dad to his face.

"I think it tastes quite nice. I tend to prefer plain cheesecake, but I do like the blueberry," Bruce said slowly, delicately.

Wait, was that supposed to be code? Was Bruce trying to say that he would prefer if Percy didn't call him dad, as shown through the plain cheesecake being without Percy's favourite colour, but he didn't want to make it awkward by saying so directly? Was it some kind of metaphor?

Percy hummed vaguely around a mouthful of cake in response, hoping to brush all of this under the rug. Bruce, it seemed, didn't quite get the memo. Or rather, he got the memo and decided to ignore it with all the gracefulness of a rocket strapped to a rolling office chair.

"That isn't to say that I'm opposed to blueberry cheesecake," Bruce continued, beginning to ramble. "I wouldn't have a preference one way or the other. I think it's delicious either way, so it would really depend on what other parties eating cheesecake are comfortable with."

So Bruce was putting the ball in Percy's court, then. It was a metaphor. Take that Jason, Percy can totally understand literary devices. But that still didn't help Percy understand if Bruce wanted Percy to call him dad or not, which left them back at square one.

"I think I like blueberry cheesecake more than regular," Percy said honestly. While he did like the tart flavour that the berries gave to the dessert, he was more talking about his and Bruce's shifting relationship.

"Oh?" Bruce asked, something uncertain in his eyes.

Percy nodded slightly. "Tastes nicer. At least to me. Right, Dad?"

There. He said it again. If Bruce really hated it, now was his chance to say something. He would probably say something.

"I - yes. Yes," Bruce said, his voice a touch hoarse. The corners of his lips tugged into a smile, a tentative pleasure flickering through his eyes.

Oh. Good. Everything was fine, then. Bruce was fine with - and maybe even wanted - Percy addressing him as dad.

Bruce basically already was his dad. According to movies and TV, Bruce did all the dad things. Well, no, he didn't teach Percy how to play catch, which was apparently a staple of father-son relationships, but Bruce did teach him how to tie a tourniquet and how best to interrogate someone, which was arguably more useful. And legally, Percy already was his son.

Jason and Dick were also his sons on paper, but neither of them called Bruce dad. Percy knew that they had fathers, though Dick's was loving and died too young while Jason's was barely around enough to count. Both of his brothers had names and faces assigned to the concept of fatherhood before Bruce even showed up in their lives, but Percy just knew that he resembled his biological dad. He figured the man looked just like Percy, except tall and maybe with a beard or wrinkles.

The only thing that Bruce and Percy didn't do before this point was openly and consistently acknowledge it. Percy saying that Bruce was his dad to his face made his skin feel too tight and itchy, like he was showing a guy with a knife where his most vital arteries were.

This whole conversation was like Percy was saying I love you, which was a sentenced loaded with fragile feelings and entirely lacking logic or control. There was a reason psychology was a difficult field to master, after all. Emotions were…icky. They were more complex than rocket science, and the catastrophes caused by them could be twice as devastating. Calling Bruce dad was like running around with a neon orange t-shirt that declared the confusing and embarrassing swirl of the chemicals in Percy's brain for the whole wide world to see.

The fact that Percy and Bruce kept on talking about cheesecake instead of addressing anything directly made it easier. At least, it made Percy feel like he knew what the fuck was going on.

"Okay," Percy said, something warm curling in his chest.

"Okay," Bruce repeated, smiling at him.

Suddenly a weird, twisting sensation spread in Percy's gut, distracting him.

"Do you feel that?" Percy asked, brow furrowed.

"No, I don't. What are you talking about?" Bruce asked.

"It feels like…storms," Percy explained vaguely. His eyes slid to the window, surprised to find raindrops dripping down the pane. "Oh, it's raining."

"How could you tell?" Bruce asked, facing the window with a similar shock - the forecast that morning hadn't predicted such weather until later in the week.

"I don't know. It must have been the sudden shift in air pressure," Percy said, though he didn't quite believe it. Changes like that were felt in the joints of seasoned sailors and the skulls of those prone to migraines, and Percy was neither. But there was no other way for him to know the weather outside before he saw it.

"You've got keen instincts," Bruce complimented.

"Thank you, Dad," Percy said, scraping his plate clean. He could feel the taste of family and blueberry cheesecake coat his tongue.

At that exact moment, the it started to rain even harder, smacking against the window like the sky and sea were crying. The storm was devoid of lightning or thunder, just rain that felt almost angry in nature.

"There goes going outside for the rest of the week," Bruce noted, glancing out the window with mild distaste.

"We could always go to the Batcave," Percy offered. "And I can help with the serial robbery case you're working on."

"Then why wait?" Bruce asked rhetorically, standing up and heading to his study.

Percy was right behind Bruce as they walked through the grandfather clock, settling down and pouring over case files. Percy had his headphones plugged into the Batcomputer the whole time, listening to each word get read out on the auditory function that Bruce had installed when Percy first began his training. He had a fidget toy in one hand and a pencil in the other, rapidly jotting down abbreviations for all the connections he noticed between the robbed locations.

Once he realized that the robbers were targeting various stores that sold the parts needed to make an ordinary car go way faster, he was able to piece together that the criminals were just gearing up for a bigger heist and were currently working on improving their getaway vehicle.

Percy turned to Bruce with a wide smile, explaining his thoughts and showing how they lined up with Bruce's notes. Bruce looked at him, fond, and pulled him into his arms. Percy let himself go boneless, eyes closed and simply existing with his dad.

Chapter Text

The Narrows
Gotham City, New Jersey
2010

Percy stared at the front door to his apartment for a few minutes after Bruce left, sitting stiffly on the couch as his thoughts raced faster than he could process them. Suddenly, he could hear Lea panting and Jason's footsteps as they shadowtravelled back inside.

"Hey, Percy?" Jason asked as soon as he noticed Percy.

"Yeah?" Percy said absently, fidgeting with Riptide in its pen form.

"Would you mind if putting all of these dishes of water away? I feel like I'm about to trip and break one of them," Jason said, taking a large step over three cups of water as he moved towards the couch.

Percy stared at him judgmentally out of the corner of his eye. "You can fly. And you can jump. If anything, this is just free agility training."

"I'm not floating two feet in the air just so that you can have eight bowls of water on the floor at once," Jason said flatly.

"Sounds to me like you're just scared that you'll bonk your head on the ceiling and give yourself even more brain damage," Percy teased, a wry grin on his face.

"More like I'm scared I'll accidentally fly through the ceiling and see far too much of whatever your upstairs neighbour's doing," Jason replied, shuddering exaggeratedly.

Percy chuckled, unwinding despite his better instincts. "Fair enough. I keep hearing those thumping noises at all hours of the night. I'd be fucking pissed if I wasn't already awake most of the time."

"I'm already pissed. Some of us sleep normal hours, you know," Jason said pointedly, and Percy cackled.

After a few more moments of back and forth, they finally compromised on having half of the water cups on the floor while everything else was put away. Jason, like the sucker he was, agreed to do all of the dishes for him even though it was Percy that set them out on the floor. Or maybe he had just noticed that Percy was barely keeping his smile on his face and decided not to push him too much.

Percy closed his eyes, feeling the water from the sink pour over one of the many bowls, the soap fluffing up against the ceramic. The dishes were barely dirty, but they had been on the floor for a while now, and Percy knew that Jason found small amounts of labour soothing after a long day. It was probably a side effect of growing up in the Twelfth Legion, having to do chores no matter what crazy shit happened during the day with the only exception being major celebrations or holidays.

"It wasn't any of the Bats that showed up. It was Bruce," Percy said, cleaving through the dull silence and the sound of scrubbing.

"And?" Jason asked, raising a brow as he set a bowl on the dish rack.

"And he brought tea," Percy responded, holding up the passionflower tea that Bruce had given to him for Jason to see. "Make sure you don't drink that, by the way; I don't know if he tampered with it or not. The next time one of my family members show up I'm going to brew some of it for them, and then it'll backfire on him."

"You horrify me, sometimes," Jason said, shaking his head as he finished up with cleaning the dishes. She summoned a gust of wind to dry them off before placing them back in their appropriate cupboards.

"You've mentioned, St. Elmo's Fire," Percy retorted.

"What the fuck is St. Elmo's Fire?" Jason asked with a confused squint. He walked all of two steps to leave the kitchen and enter the living room, easily evading the few cups of water remaining on the floor as he sat down beside Percy.

"A type of purple lightning. It's also considered a good omen for sailors. Hey, wait, do you think if we got on a boat, you could make some?" Percy asked, sufficiently distracted.

The rest of the evening went smoothly - or at least as smoothly as it could have gone considering the shitshow that was literally everything that happened since dinner - and by the time it was eleven at night, they were ready to head to sleep. It wasn't until the both of them were hunched over the sink, brushing their teeth in amicable silence, that Percy started to feel a pang in his chest.

Maybe it was just because that day had been filled with various intense emotions, but looking at himself in the mirror suddenly made his heart pinch and his eyes sting. Percy looked down at the sink, swirling with spat-out toothpaste and a thin layer of a toothpaste grime that he probably should have cleaned off a while ago but continued to procrastinate on, and realized with startling clarity that he felt lonely.

Both he and Jason had divided their shared sink in half, with their own toiletries on opposite ends for them to use each day. The only other time in Percy's life where he had to share a bathroom with someone was when he lived with his mom in New York - even the Argo II had personal en-suites. But when Percy tried to imagine what the bathroom in his mom's apartment looked like, whether the area was divided into thirds for each person living there or if they had some other kind of system, he couldn't remember.

Percy had spent a large chunk of his life in New York, but the memories were hazier than he would have liked. The sensations, more than the exact events, stuck in his brain better. He could remember the smell of beer soaked into couch cushions and the taste of blue chocolate chip cookies when they were fresh out of the oven and still gooey.

He could remember being scared shitless of his stepfather, and the way his heart would pound whenever Gabe had lost too many rounds of poker and drank too many beers about it. He would flinch on his walk to the bus station whenever a taxi driver stuck their head out the window and yelled until they were blue in the face. He would lock himself in his room whenever Gabe got into a fight with his mom, hands clamped over his ears and waiting for his mom to come find him once it was all over.

One thing that stood out in Percy's memory that was vivid and true was his love for his mom. He could remember seeing her smile and feeling her fingers card through his hair, and all of his troubles would fizzle out. He had admired her greatly when he was younger, he knew. He'd looked up to her defiance and infinite patience. She would put blue food dye in everything because Gabe said that blueberries were the only blue food, and could put up with Percy's string of expulsions and school fights with ease.She would intimidate the landlord into giving her more time to pay rent with the power of a home-cooked meal, and would take him to Montauk whenever she could tell that they both needed a moment away from the daily toils of living with Gabe.

But beyond that, Percy had very little memories about the people he lived with before Bruce. He couldn't tell how much of his recollections were tinged with a child's innocent understanding of the world. Was Gabe truly so horrible? Was his mom an actual beacon of all that was good? Or were those impressions just the residue of a confused nine-year-old?

So much of the concrete information he had about his mom came from Bruce's files and Poseidon's words. The stuff from Bruce was clinically read, a list of names and dates and locations. Everything from Poseidon was brimming with sentiment, all of the reasons why a god had fallen for a mere mortal woman.

"Percy!"

Percy jerked, startling back to attention. "What?" he asked, blinking as he regained his focus. He was still in his cramped bathroom, toothbrush dangling out of his mouth and suds of toothpaste on his lips.

"I've been trying to get your attention for a while now," Jason said beside him.

"Sorry, just lost in thought," Percy said. His voice was steady despite everything inside him feeling off-kilter.

"You're crying," Jason pointed out.

"Hm?" Percy asked, glancing over at the mirror. Sure enough, he spotted a singular tear dripping down his face. "Oh. That's weird."

"Do you want me to get you something? A cup of water, maybe? There's, like, ten on the floor right now," Jason offered, including a joke at the end to give him an out.

"I'll be okay. I think I just need to call Annabeth," Percy said with a weak smile.

"If you say so," Jason said, unconvinced as he headed out the door to go and fall asleep on Percy's couch.

Percy was about to let him leave, when another pang of loneliness hit him. "Actually, can I have a hug?"

"Course," Jason replied, doing a shit job of hiding his shock.

Percy didn't need to be told twice, wrapping his arms around Jason and squeezing. It was all of the affection he wanted to show Bruce when he had come over to his apartment, without having to be aware of any double-edged words or potential threats. He let himself close his eyes, lingering in the moment for longer that propriety would strictly allow, but Jason was good enough of a guy to take pity on him and realize that he needed it.

Besides, they had lived together for weeks on the Argo II. They've seen each other run out of their bedrooms in the middle of the night, slapping on armour over their bare skin as some sort of beast roared on deck. Percy has seen Jason wiping up his own blood with his purple New Rome t-shirt. Jason has seen Percy stumble out of the Doors of Death, coughing so hard he could barely keep his lungs inside.

After he finally felt his heartbeat settle down, a sense of comfort warming him from the inside like sitting next to a space heater, Percy finally pulled away from Jason's hug.

"Thanks, dude. I think I really needed that," Percy said.

"Anytime, bro," Jason replied sincerely.

"I'm gonna…I'm gonna call Annabeth now, okay?" Percy asked.

"Sure thing. Goodnight," Jason said, thumping Percy on the shoulder reassuringly before going to bed, tiptoeing around the bowls that were still on the floor.

"Night!" Percy called out over his shoulder.

He splashed some water on his face before heading to his bedroom, unlocking his demigod-safe phone designed by the Hephaestus and Vulcan kids and searching for Annabeth's contact. Percy spent half a second debating between a video call or a regular phone call before making the executive decision to make a video call and hope that Annabeth would pick up. The celestial bronze phone trilled once, twice, thrice, before beeping and letting Percy see the best girlfriend in the whole world.

As soon as he could see Annabeth, some of the tension in his shoulder's dissipated. Annabeth was staring down at a sheet of paper, pencil in one hand and the other trying to claw through the wood of her desk - it was clear that whatever she was working on was frustrating her to no end. Her hair, typically in princess blonde curls, was frizzy in the way that it always was when Annabeth was too harsh with it, held back by a hair tie that had certainly seen better days. The bags under her eyes were so heavy, Percy was surprised they weren't causing her to face plant into her desk. He could even spot a stack of crumpled energy bar wrappers halfway out of frame.

She looked like a mess. It was the most beautiful thing Percy had ever seen.

"Hey, Percy," Annabeth said, not taking her eyes off of her work. She scribbled down a couple of sentences in Ancient Greek so quickly it could compete with a Hermes kid in a track race. "What's up?"

"I missed you," Percy said, smiling.

Annabeth's lips quirked into a responding grin. "Missed you too. Now, if this is a social call I'm afraid I'm going to have to raincheck, since I'm in the middle of something, but if it's urgent then you have my full attention."

"A bit of both, I suppose, though that comes with the territory of being together and working with each other," Percy said. He crawled under the covers of his bed, propping up a pillow against the headboard to lean back against.

"Business first, then. Pleasure afterwards," Annabeth decided, setting down her pencil and looking at Percy through the tiny screen.

"Oh, believe me, sweetheart, I can do plenty of pleasure afterwards," Percy teased, waggling his eyebrows.

"I know you're good for it too," Annabeth replied, smirking. It was barely even enough to count as flirting, but Percy's heart still skipped a beat. "But you said you had business to talk about?"

"Right. Did you see the files I had Leo copy and scrub from Batman's personal computer?" Percy asked.

"The what? Since when were you going after the vigilantes? Wasn't the plan to avoid them?" Annabeth asked, rapid fire and shocked.

"The initial plan was to avoid them, yes. But contact's already been made with Nightwing, Red Robin, Batman, and Signal, so I needed to ensure that there was no risky info on their database. I was able to locate the vigilantes' headquarters and use Mrs. O'Leary to get Leo. The vigilantes naturally know about my little break in, since I used all of the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but they won't be able to recover any of the data they had on me or any other demigods," Percy explained, taking careful measures to avoid cluing Annabeth into the fact that Percy's mortal family dressed up and punched criminals at night.

There was a tiny pang in his heart that made him want to tell her everything, from Percy's stint as Blue Shrike to how the whole family was entrenched in the vigilante lifestyle, but it wasn't his decision to make. Telling anyone was usually off the table - cousin Jason had only found out because brother Jason accidentally let it slip. And if Annabeth knew that Percy had spent years lying to her face, she'd be livid.

"I spend one day focussing on my work, and this is the shit that I miss?" Annabeth demanded, incredulous.

"I haven't even gotten to the fun stuff. So far, no major retaliation from the Bats - " since Bruce had shown up rather than Batman, and there had been very little discussion about the stolen files overall " - but we can anticipate a countermove sometime soon. Jason and I will have to spend some time planning that through," Percy said.

"What do you mean by fun stuff?"

"Oh, nothing, just the fact that now they all know I'm a hydrokinetic, no biggie."

"Percy," Annabeth said, abruptly pleasant in a way that promised nothing good. "What the fuck do you mean when you say that the meta-hating vigilantes now know that you're meta?"

Was this a bad time to point out that Annabeth looked insanely hot whenever she got terrifying?

"Turns out, Batman's known about me being a meta for years now, since he had a DNA sample of mine - don't worry, Leo swiped that too. The Bats are a lot more chill about metahumans than I thought, actually," Percy admitted.

"Gods of Olympus, how much shit happened since we texted last night?"

"Relax, Beth, I've got it handled. Mostly. The main reason why I called is because I got into a bit of a fight with…most of my family today."

Annabeth winced sympathetically. "Yikes. Those are never fun. You okay?"

"Better, now that I'm talking to you. But it turns out that Jason - my brother, not my cousin - has been murdering people. He thought that I was being figurative when I talked about killing monsters. So, you know, I kind of freaked out about that," Percy said with a sigh. "Then it turned out that most of my family has also killed someone at one point or another. Bruce and I are apparently the weirdos. After I found that out, I sorta panicked and booked it. Didn't know what else to do, so I decided to get some work done and break into the vigilantes' home base."

"Of course you did," Annabeth said flatly.

"Yup. And then Bruce came over to visit, since I stormed out and all, and yeah. Today's been a shitshow and a half," Percy finished, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly.

"Do you want me to come over there?" Annabeth asked.

Percy shook his head. "You're busy with all the new recruits that have been headed over. Speaking of, how are they adjusting?"

"It's not bad. I'm working on drafting a more kid-friendly area right now, since Camp Half-Blood was made for teenagers and not toddlers. I was able to handle it decently enough when I was seven, but with the sudden influx of small children, we're going to need to make some changes around here," Annabeth said, lighting up the way she always did when she spoke about her work.

"The worst part is, just before I called you, I was thinking about my mom for the first time since Tartarus. And godsdamnit, Beth, I just started missing her so bad. I can't help but wonder what she would say if she saw the total screw up that was today," Percy whispered, so quiet he wasn't sure if the phone speakers would be able to hear him.

"Oh, Percy," Annabeth murmured. Her voice was thick, as if she could feel every inch of pain that Percy did.

"And it's just so…" Percy trailed off, taking a moment to search for the right words. His eyes burned with tears. "It's just so shitty. That I find out that my brother's a murderer, that I have to reveal that I'm meta, all of that stuff, and at the end of the day, I can't even have five minutes to chill out. I end up crying while brushing my teeth because I miss my mom."

"Do you want a different assignment?" Annabeth asked.

"What?" he asked.

"A different assignment. You don't have to extract demigods from Gotham, you know. We need more people out tackling Central City anyways - there has to be at least thirty Hermes kids waiting in the area. Why don't I go talk to Chiron about placing you there?" Annabeth suggested.

"No," Percy said, not even hesitating.

"I know that there's a big half-blood population in Gotham, and that you're the best equipped to work there since you're the only person here who lived there at some point, but we can manage. Jason's been there for a while now; he can stay in the apartment you're using, and we can move you somewhere else. Or you can come here and help the new recruits through training," Annabeth retorted easily, already weaving a plan.

"I'm not leaving. Gotham's to complicated to have people who don't understand it messing around. They'll show up, screw with the balance of things, antagonize the vigilantes even more than I have, and then get a bunch of people killed. And then the rest of us will have to organize a jailbreak on top of everything else we have going on. No way am I letting something like that happen," Percy said stubbornly. If he wasn't preoccupied holding his phone, he would have crossed his arms for emphasis.

Gotham was typically a demigod-free zone for a reason. The Rogues were some of the most powerful monsters out there, but that didn't stop the gods from having kids with local Gothamites. Normal demigods had an average lifespan of twelve. Gotham demigods typically only lived for half as long. Percy was nine when he ran away from New York, and that was already surprising since he was the son of Poseidon, but the fact that he had spent almost four years in Gotham was insane by demigod standards. For years, Percy was the only kid in all of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter who had ever lived in Gotham for any extended period of time.

"Percy, come on," Annabeth said with an unamused glare.

"I've gotten eight demigods out of the city and into their appropriate camp. Eight," Percy refuted.

"You're miserable in Gotham. It's great that you've been able to help out so many kids, really, but having to contend with the Rogues, the Bats, and your mortal family is clearly putting too much on your plate. If you aren't going to agree to leaving, you should at least let Chiron assign you with more backup. You and Jason won't be enough to manage a city of that size," Annabeth pointed out.

"I can't fit anyone else in my apartment without forcing Jason to split the couch with someone else, and I don't trust anyone to manage it on their own. One of the Bats will wiretap their microwave or some shit like that after a single day, and then they'll know all about the mythical world, and after that it'll be a whole bunch of - "

"Then I'll visit," Annabeth interrupted.

" - invasive tests and creepy questions, and then they'll - wait, what?" Percy asked, train of thought completely derailed.

"You said that no one else would fit in your apartment without having to force Jason to share the couch, right? If I go, then you and I can share the bed, and I can see for myself how things are over there," Annabeth said with finality.

"Oh, so we're back to flirting now?" Percy asked, a genuine smile growing on his face at the thought of getting to see Annabeth in person again. Long distance was fine, because Percy knew in his heart that they would never break up or falter, but being able to see each other face-to-face was infinitely better.

"If you'd like," Annabeth replied sweetly.

"I'd like," Percy said. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. "I'd like to a lot."

Annabeth tilted her head back with laughter, and they spent the next hour talking to each other. Eventually, Percy was able to coax her into getting a proper meal and full night's rest. He fell asleep that night with a cozy warmth in his chest despite his world tilting on it's axis a few hours earlier.

—

Gotham Academy Middle School
Gotham City, New Jersey
2004

Sixth grade was supposed to be a big deal. It was the first year of middle school, meaning that Gotham Academy's elementary uniform was exchanged for a slightly different edition, plus now they had lockers. Instead of having most of their classes in one room, they moved from class to class in the building while the teachers mostly stayed in place. Most of the girls now wore a thin sheen of lip gloss and the most popular girls wearing blush and mascara too. Almost all of the boys had the same haircut, which was probably supposed to be the current trend for their age group. Percy, of course, had the same hair as always, because it stayed out of his eyes and didn't make his skull look funny.

To replace Miss Bee, with her bubbly personality that served to mask her Gotham-born grit, Percy's sixth grade teacher was a man on the older side in a wheelchair. He had glasses just a bit too low on his nose, a scruffy beard, and a tweed jacket that gave him the impression of a college professor rather than a middle school teacher. Instead of cheerful bee decorations, the walls were lined with posters of centuries of timelines and historic artworks. One of them was of a marble sculpture that was currently stored in the Gotham City Art Museum - he'd nearly bumped into it when trying to stop Catwoman from nabbing an elaborate golden headpiece just a few weeks ago.

Percy quickly found and sat down at his desk, finding it much easier now that seating charts were determined randomly instead of alphabetically. At least now, he wasn't going to be stuck next to people just because of his surname.

He was seated closer to the back, which suited him just fine. Pulling out a pencil, Percy began doodling as he waited for class to get started. Bruce had offered to walk him all the way to his classroom like he had last year, but this was middle school now, and Percy wasn't going to look like a baby in front of everyone, regardless of if he cared about his classmates' opinions or not. It was about the principal of the matter.

"Excuse me?" a small, timid voice asked.

Percy glanced up, distantly surprised to meet the eyes of a new kid. Most of the kids who attended Gotham Academy were the children of Gotham's elite, like Percy. There were scholarship students, but they were less common, and easily identifiable due to their hand-me-down uniforms and lack of expensive accessories. A lot of scholarship kids were picked on for the apparently egregious crime on not being born wealthy, and whenever Percy tried to step in, he'd get caught fighting and then sent to the principal's office, because the concept of luck must have had it out for Percy specifically.

This new kid was probably around Percy's height, but it was hard to tell with how hard he was leaning on the crutches braced around his forearms. He seemed so nervous that he was about to collapse into a puddle on the floor.

"I think I'm supposed to sit next to you," the new kid continued meekly.

Percy blinked, unsure of how to respond for a second. "Then sit. I don't police the seating plan; that's the teacher's job."

"Right, of course," the new kid said, flushing slightly.

He took his seat beside Percy, leaning his crutches against his desk. Percy could see a bunch of the other students eye up the new kid's crutches, clearly planning to steal them at some point. He resolved to stick around the new kid, at least for the day, just to make sure they didn't try anything funny.

"You're new here," Percy stated. It wasn't a question, but he seemed like the type of guy who would respond anyways.

"Uh, yeah, my uncle and I just moved here," the new kid elaborated, very true to form.

"Why the hell would your uncle take you to Gotham on purpose?" Percy asked, with more than a touch of wry humor. Everyone knew that Gotham was a shithole, but it was massive for the national economy and a place of historic significance. The danger of the city was magnetic to tourists, but living there for at least a year? It was certifiable insanity - and that was coming from a guy who moved there and decided to stay.

"We moved for his job. He's going to be our teacher this year, actually," the new kid said, strangely bashful as his eyes darted to the teacher at the front of the room.

"In that case, welcome to Gotham. How about I give you the full safety rundown during lunch?" Percy suggested, none too eager to see his new classmate get eaten alive by one of the craziest cities in the country.

"Oh, thank you. I already got a couple of safety lectures from my uncle, but it could never hurt to get a local's opinion, I guess. I'm Grover, by the way," he said. He stuck out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Percy shook it.

"Percy Jackson-Wayne."

"Ah, right, I knew that," Grover said, flustering. It was clear that he didn't really know how to handle himself around someone famous.

"Relax. It'd be even weirder if you didn't know who I was," Percy replied with a chuckle, putting Grover at ease.

"Quiet down, students, quiet down! I know you're all excited to see your friends again after summer break, but you can catch up after lunch," the teacher called out, loud enough to be heard over the din of rambunctious twelve-year-olds.

The class settled, albeit reluctantly.

Percy leaned over towards Grover, dropping his voice into a whisper. "That's your uncle?"

"Mm-hm," Grover squeaked back.

Percy's expression didn't betray his realization that Grover was lying through his teeth. In the back of his mind, the train of thought that Bruce had trained into him began chugging along the tracks, eager to find a destination and solution.

"Welcome to sixth grade, young pupils," the teacher said, placing a hand on his wheelchair to stop in the front of the room. "My name is Mr. Brunner, and I will be your social studies and homeroom teacher."

Brunner. Erin. Mom.

Percy's breath caught in his throat.

Charles Brunner was the name of the man that his mom had wanted him to find if she ever died. When Percy had found hers and Gabe's corpses, Erin was standing there with her too-wide smile and the blood underneath pointed fingernails. Percy had grabbed his mom's spare cash and two pocket knives, kept in a boot in the back of her closet, before running for his life. He had misread the sign at the train station to say Long Island instead of Gotham City, and became stranded in a hostile city with barely any money or food.

Percy had never found out why it was that, in the event of her death, his mom had planned for him to run and live with a strawberry farm owner rather than her own shitty husband. He had only tried and failed to find Charles Brunner, winding up with Bruce and his life in Gotham instead. Percy was sincerely regretting not asking his mom more questions now.

"Now, allow me to do attendance very quickly," Brunner said, before breezing through the class roster with all the skill of a seasoned professional. "With that out of the way, I'd like to ask you all a question. Do any of you already know what we are going to be focussing on in social studies this year?"

Percy and Grover, along with a couple of others, raised their hands.

When you look at me, Brunner, do you see Bruce Wayne or Sally Jackson? Did you know her? Were you the person she trusted me with?

"You there, Mr. Jackson-Wayne. What do you know about what we will work on in social studies this year?" Brunner asked, not reacting in the slightest to the fact that Percy carried the Wayne name. The guy was either some kind of pro, or he was an idiot, and Percy's gut instinct was to believe in the first option.

Something in the back of Percy's mind, the part of him that was more vigilante than regular kid, twitched. There were too many coincidences to be brushed under the rug. Grover being seated right beside him, the so-called nephew of a man that his mother might have known. The way Brunner seemed a bit too qualified and experienced to be teaching middle school students. The fact that, out of all of the people to pay attention to, Brunner looked at him first, and didn't look the slightest bit affected by Percy's last name. There was something off about all of this, and, well, Percy was the youngest son of the World's Greatest Detective. He couldn't help but want to unravel the beginnings of the mystery before him.

"Democracy," Percy answered, keeping his thoughts off of his face.

"Very good. This year, you will learn all about the history and modern applications of the democratic system. In other words, you will learn how and why it is that the people can choose their own leaders. Now, can someone else please tell me if they know the origins of democracy?" Brunner asked.

Hesitantly, Grover raised his hand when it was obvious no one else would. "Ancient Athens," he answered.

"Correct. Now, as part of studying the ancient Athenians and their early version of democracy, we will also have a few lessons on Greek mythology. Before Christmas break, I might even let you watch the Disney Hercules movie," Brunner said slyly.

"Score!" cheered one of Percy's classmates. Everyone else buzzed excitedly.

"With, of course, a worksheet for you to fill out about the mythological inaccuracies as you watch," Brunner added.

Almost all of the class groaned at the loss of an easy movie day, while Percy snickered. If nothing else, Brunner was definitely clever.

"What are you laughing about?" Grover asked, voice hushed.

"Nothing, it's just that the Hercules assignment is going to be pretty easy for me, since I already know some of the original myth," Percy replied, equally as quiet.

"Everything alright over there, boys?" Brunner asked, glancing at Percy and Grover sharply.

Percy's eyes narrowed, surprised at how he had managed to hear them given they were near the back of the room, before he replaced it with a sparkling gala smile. "Of course, Mr. Brunner. I was just explaining to Grover that after the teacher takes attendance, we usually have an assembly that goes until lunch."

"Yup!" Grover added unconvincingly. Percy debated letting him know he's such a shit liar, before deciding otherwise. It meant that Grover would never be able to lie to him, at least.

"Well, you happen to be correct, Mr. Jackson-Wayne. I do believe it's time for us to head on over to the assembly. Everyone, if you could please get into a single file line and follow me," Brunner said, rounding all of the students up and ushering them into the hallway where other classes were trickling towards the auditorium.

Percy stood up, waiting to make sure that none of the other kids tried to mess with Grover's crutches, before slinking over to Brunner's desk. The attendance sheet was front and center, with a string of check marks next to names. But the real thing he was looking for was at the top of the page, where he found the date and name of the teacher.

Christopher Brunner. Not Charles, but maybe he was a relative. And there, in the student roster, was Grover Underwood. It was entirely likely that Brunner was Grover's maternal uncle, so they didn't share a name, but it was certainly worth noting.

Percy joined Grover and followed the rest of the class outside, internally lamenting the fact that he wouldn't be able to properly rummage through Brunner's whole desk without it being wildly sketchy.

"What were you doing by Mr. Brunner's desk?" Grover asked worriedly.

As Grover walked, leaning on his crutches for support, Percy noticed that he seemed vaguely frustrated by how slow he was moving, as though he was unused to his own pace. Grover was too familiar with how to use them to make it seem like a recent injury, and his gait was too comfortable to suggest any leg pain. It was almost like he wasn't used to his own crutches.

"I wanted to see if the principal warned him beforehand that I was a problem kid," Percy lied easily. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot Brunner looking at Grover and Percy like he could see right through them.

"Problem kid? Do you get into a ton of fights or something?" Grover asked.

"Yeah, more or less. A bunch of the other kids get on my nerves for struggling with reading and focussing, and I tend to break their bones in response," Percy said, casual as ever.

Grover's eyes went wide, and he stared at Percy like he was looking at a dead man. "Do - do you have dyslexia and ADHD?"

"Yup. How'd you guess?" Percy asked lightly, eyes sharp.

"Oh, uh, I go to this summer camp," Grover said, somehow on the line between cheery and tense. "My uncle is the activities director, actually, which means that I spend most of my summers there. It's designed for kids with dyslexia and ADHD, so I'm pretty familiar with what they look like."

So Grover and his almost-definitely-not-uncle Brunner just so happened to spend all their time at a summer camp for people with Percy's disabilities. Because that totally wasn't suspicious.

"If my dad lets me, I might be able to attend next summer," Percy offered.

"I can give you the address later in the year, if you're still up for it," Grover said, voice strangled.

"Great. Though it might not happen if Brunner gets fired," Percy said, taking pity on Grover and changing the subject.

"Fired?" Grover asked, toying with the buttons on his blazer nervously.

"Yeah, for showing us the original myth. It's, like, insanely dark. If the PTA finds out about him teaching us how Hercules murdered his wife and kids in a fit of god-induced craziness, then he'll totally get sacked," Percy explained.

"Right. Uh, do you know a lot about Greek mythology?" Grover asked.

Percy shrugged. "I know a bit. My mom was a fan of them, and my brother's big into classics like the Homeric epics."

"Well, I play this game, Mythomagic, and it's all about Greek mythology. I have a deck in my backpack, if you want to play sometime?" Grover asked nervously.

"As long as you're okay with teaching me the rules," Percy responded. He'd never played Mythomagic before, but he was aware of its existence.

"Keep walking, honey," a raspy voice barked out. Percy turned, only to be greeted with the sight of an unfamiliar woman, probably a teacher. "You've got an assembly to get to, and you can't afford to dawdle."

Something about this lady immediately made the hair on the back of Percy's neck prickle. "Who're you?" he snapped, more rudely than he would have liked.

"Percy!" Grover hissed, low enough for only them to hear.

"My name is Mrs. Dodds, and I do believe I will be your math teacher this year, Perseus Jackson-Wayne," she said, glaring at him like she already hated his guts.

"Then I guess I'll see you in math class. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I have to go to the assembly, and I don't appreciate being held back just because you wanted to chat," Percy replied coolly.

"Sorry, Mrs. Dodds, it just takes me a while to get there because of my muscle disorder. We'll go right now," Grover interrupted, nose flaring and scrunched like he smelled something rancid.

"Ah, I know you. You must be Christopher Brunner's nephew," Dodds said. Her voice was low enough it almost sounded like an animal's growl.

"That's me," Grover said, flashing a weak smile.

"Is this muscular disorder of yours genetic? Your uncle seems to make it around just fine," Dodds said, eyes narrowed.

"I, uh, yeah, sure - "

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Percy cut in, glaring at Dodds with just as much ferocity as she did him.

"You best get going, honey. I've got my eye on you both," Dodds said as Percy and Grover followed the rest of the crowd to the auditorium.

"The fuck's her problem?" Percy grumbled once she was out of earshot.

"I don't know. Maybe you should just stay away from her," Grover suggested.

"I plan to, after all that," Percy said, still tense.

"I hope she doesn't get us in trouble for being late," Grover added, fussing.

"You told her point blank that you have a muscle disorder. If she tries something, you can get Brunner to sue," Percy said. They arrived in the auditorium, and Percy took his seat with the rest of the class.

"Sue? Gods, I couldn't do that," Grover said, sitting right next to the aisle and propping his crutches against his chair.

"I can get Bruce to do it, if you're worried," Percy said. It didn't escape him that Grover said gods, plural. Then, an idea struck, and he had to resist the impulse to laugh. "Speaking of Bruce, I think you should meet him."

"Y-you want me to meet Bruce Wayne?" Grover asked, eyes like saucers.

"Sure. He's a pretty good guy, you know? Especially with all of the philanthropy and the projects he's funded. Like right now, for example, he's been supporting a ton of medical research," Percy said, all of his words technically true.

"Oh, that's nice of him," Grover said. He tilted his head in a poor attempt to hide the way he gulped nervously.

"Hey, I just realized that he could probably help you too!" Percy said, beaming at him.

"How so?" Grover asked.

"The muscle disorder you mentioned to Dodds just now - all of the medical research Bruce has been funding could probably get you better pain relief or something," Percy explained.

Immediately, Grover looked like a rat in a mousetrap. Bingo.

"Thank you, Percy, but I really shouldn't be - "

"You can bring your uncle too," Percy interrupted, his face the epitome of a guileless kid. "If your disorder is genetic like you told Dodds it was, then it's also probably degenerative too. Bruce would be able to do a ton of help."

And if Percy could access to both of their full medical and family histories, it would be much easier to figure out what the fuck was going on with all of them.

"I'd have to ask my uncle," Grover said evasively, pulling at the uniform tie around his neck.

Of course. Percy should've expected that, really. Well, he could always try to get a spit sample off of Grover's water bottle later in the year. As for Brunner, he could snatch a coffee cup or something. Or, most likely, he wouldn't even need a DNA sample, since doing a thorough enough search on the Batcomputer would be able to dig up enough information to answer Percy's questions.

The sound of raspy yelling broke Percy out of his thoughts, and he turned around to watch Dodds heckle some of the eighth graders for not sitting straight. With a scowl, he turned back to face the stage.

Maybe he'd do some digging on Dodds too. With any luck, an anonymous letter to the principal with evidence of whatever skeletons she had in the closet would be enough to get her kicked out. And good riddance, too, because there was something about her that reminded him of Erin.