Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Damian, can we at least agree that being grounded means you’re not supposed to leave the place you’re grounded at. This is not that place.”

“This is the same as being at the manor. I see no difference besides the minuscule distance,” Damian said darkly. Kind of a sweet sentiment in Mo’s opinion, since he saw her and Jason’s house like home, but not an accurate argument. A spiky bundle of preteen ire, Damian was sitting on the couch eating his third peanut butter and jelly Uncrustable, which was really killing the whole ‘I am deadly and filled with righteous indignation’ vibe he was trying to give off. He was in a ranting mood. 

At about seven that night, Alfred had texted the family group chat that Damian had gone missing and to please be on the lookout for him in case he made an appearance. Mo and Jason’s house, which they had moved into only about a week ago, was practically across the street from the manor on the coastal side. Mo didn’t think that Jason would normally choose to live this close, but he had done it for her and Delaney. Alfred had privately messaged Mo and Jason to let them know it was likely Damian was heading there since he had left on foot. Alfred felt that he would possibly take a long walk and end up at their house.

Damian had shown up at the door an hour ago around eight o’clock, right after Jason had left for his nighttime patrol and right before Delaney’s bedtime routine. Mo’s five-year-old daughter had been ecstatic to see Damian. She had gotten him read her a bedtime story. Then she had made him reread it so he could “try to do the voices this time.” After she had fallen asleep (Mo had taken over reading from Damian since he refused to do the voices), Mo had gotten Damian a snack since he’d skipped dinner in protest of his punishment. He had been railing against the injustice of Bruce’s disciplinary decisions since then. 

“If Father wants me to return to the manor, he can renounce his inane decision to deny me my right to patrol.” He took another bite of the little round PB&J sandwich. “What occurs at school should not affect my role as Robin. Those are two separate matters. He wouldn’t say I could not attend art club if I made a mistake as Robin. Not that I would. Make a mistake, I mean.”

Don’t smile, Imogen told herself, looking up at the ceiling so she wasn’t looking at the furious Victorian-speaking child vigilante with grape jelly on his nose. He always became more formal when he was raging. 

And supposedly Jason was the dramatic one. 

Truthfully, though, she could tell Damian’s feelings were hurt. He didn’t understand why he was being punished by losing patrol time for something that happened at school so he was lashing out. Being eleven was hard enough. Balancing your middle school years and your nighttime alternate life of being a superhero had to wear on the kid, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Too many emotions, not enough sleep.

“Like I was saying earlier, I think when he got called in for a conference about you punching a kid in the nose, he got a little concerned about how that was your go-to for handling the situation,” Mo said, letting out a low whistle.

“That pustule deserved it, he insulted our family. You should also be offended.”

“You insult everyone all the time,” Mo countered. 

“It is different, they are my family,” Damian exclaimed, lifting the sandwich in frustration. “Why aren’t you all supporting my decision? It is ridiculous that you have taken Father’s side in this.”

“I’m not taking sides! And besides, Steph and Duke are squarely on your side, if there were sides, so you’re not alone.” At least that’s what had been decided in the chat. 

Technically, Mo wasn’t an official part of the family. She was…Jason’s dying friend that he lived with because he had agreed to adopt her daughter once the inevitable happened. Mo’s cancer was terminal. It loomed over her since the timeline she had been given ended in the upcoming spring, but she wanted to make the most of that time she had left. Being a part of this family when her original one had been awful was an unexpected bit of brightness. Her friendship with Jason was a surprise, too, but she couldn’t imagine what going through this would’ve been like without him. 

Some days having him around was hard, but that was for a reason she could never let herself acknowledge out loud. They couldn’t start something new.

A couple days ago, he had told her about a suggestion from Roy about finding someone in their past who could maybe heal her using magic. There wasn’t a guarantee, and it seemed way too dangerous to her since that person, Essence, was incredibly erratic and might decide to murder Jason on sight. The only reason Essence was stuck in a magic sword in the first place was because she had tried to kill Jason with said sword. Then she had helped him later after taking over the body of Jason’s ex, Isabel. Which Essence was also Jason’s ex. They had talked about it. In a couple days, Dick was going to go with Donna for a weekend to look for Isabel since she was missing while Jason had stayed behind. 

Mo would love to be healed, but every possible answer came with a price. Damian kept trying to get her to agree to a Lazarus Pit, but she didn’t want to possibly become a supervillain… 

Maybe she was selfish. Maybe she should be trying all these solutions, but this was her life and she wanted to spend the time she had left with the people she loved and cared about instead of desperately searching for cures that might not work or that came with severe consequences. 

Mo’s phone buzzed. She got up from the armchair. “Be right back, I’m going to check on Del.” And look at her phone without making it seem she wasn’t paying attention to him. She wanted to give him a listening ear. But they had been going around in circles, with her trying to get him to calm down and see why his dad might’ve made the decision about the consequences of his actions without her being overbearing. Meanwhile Damian only wanted her to side with him. 

Waynes loved being right. And most of them were always certain that they were right and wanted you to see how right they were. She blamed Bruce for the pervasive mindset. 

“You can see why I had to do it, though, can’t you, Imogen?” Damian asked as she set her glass of water on the coffee table. He suddenly looked very eleven instead of eleven going on thirty. There was a hurt need for approval hiding in his eyes. “I told you what he said. It couldn’t be allowed without retribution.”

Yes, the 8th grade bully hadn’t held anything back with the insults. A lot of them had been aimed at Dick. Mostly a bunch of stupid childish comments about his nickname. So yes, she saw Damian’s point, but with his skill set he couldn’t go around physically lashing out at civilians. 

“I get why you did what you did, but let’s be honest with each other, Damian,” Mo said, leaning her hip against the arm of the couch. Everything seemed to zap her energy these days, but while she was okay with being vulnerable around Jason, she didn’t want Damian to worry or blame himself. “You should’ve figured out a way to get back at him in a much sneakier way. Less punching, more scheming revenge next time. Use your brain.”

Damian blinked. “Father would not approve of a subtle method either.”

“Maybe not,” Mo said, “But that way the school wouldn’t expel you.” 

“I am merely suspended,” Damian muttered.

Mo reached over and ruffled his hair. “Which you wouldn’t be that either if you didn’t get caught. Consider it in the future.”

Damian allowed her a brief moment of affection before ducking out from under her hand. “You are much more devious than most would assume.”

“Thanks. I’m claiming that as a compliment. There are more of those sandwiches in the fridge.” 

“Thank you…”

As she went upstairs, Mo took out her cell and checked the messages.

Jason: on a scale of normal human communication to Dickens, how’s it going with Damian

Jason: you can send him back if he’s aggravating you

Mo: oh we’re well in Oliver Twist verbiage, I think

Mo: I’m lying, I haven’t read that one, I’m making it up 

Mo: but I’ve seen the musical

Jason: …

Mo: food glorious food, etc.

Mo: btw, please pick up more Uncrustables

Mo: your baby brother loves them 

Jason: stop feeding him, he’s not cute, he’s grounded

Jason: it’ll make him want to stay

Mo: He’s not a stray, that’s not how this works

Jason: are you sure

Mo dropped her phone back into her hoodie pocket. She expected that Damian would spend the night, anyways. Bruce knew where he was. Damian could sleep in the guest room, and maybe he and Bruce would both be calmer and more levelheaded in the morning. 

Stopping at Delaney’s door, Mo peeked in to check on her daughter. She was curled up in a cozy nest of pillows, her favorite mermaid tail blanket draped over her regular comforter. A nightlight in the corner cast a soft golden glow. Maybe she would stay the entire night in her room. They had only moved in a little over a week ago, and Del had wound up sleeping with Mo every night. Honestly, Mo loved every moment she could snuggle her daughter. There wasn’t much time left to show her how much she loved her and always would, even if Del couldn’t see her.

Delaney stirred and sat up. She rubbed her palm over her face and stared at Mo from behind messy chestnut curls like a kid from a scary movie, blinking as she tried to get her bearings.

“Hey, baby, go back to sleep,” Mo said, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Delaney fell over against a pillow and then sat up again, shoving her hair out of her face. “Dami still here?”

“That depends on what you’re planning to ask for if he is,” Mo said, stepping into the room. She sat down on the edge of Delaney’s bed. “He’s going to bed soon, too, anyways.” Yes, because forcing the littlest vigilante in the world to get a real night’s sleep would be easy. 

Del started to climb out of bed. “I want to say goodnight again.” 

“You said it five times at least,” Mo argued, playfully grabbing her ankle and jostling it.

“But I’m awake again so I gotta say it again,” Delaney countered. She rolled to try to get out of Mo’s grip and wound up upside-down in a pile of stuffed animals. 

Mo tilted her head to the side as if pondering her daughter’s reasoning. Delaney copied the move, tilting her head the other way. Mo smiled. She blew out a long breath. “One more time, and that’s it, back to bed.” 

Delaney made a happy noise and scrambled out of bed. Grabbing Mo’s hand, she started tugging her toward the door, a little too energetically for Mo in her current state. She tried to keep up, but it hurt, which sparked the deep frustration in her. Not at her daughter but at the cancer and everything it had taken from her. She used to do yoga and go on long walks in the city and swim whenever she had the chance.

A second later, Del slowed down and stopped pulling as much. That ached, too, knowing that Del was making concessions for her that she shouldn’t have to. At least with Jason around, Delaney had an adult that could actually play with her and run around the yard. Well, the backyard was a beach, but that was even better. 

Downstairs, Damian had helped himself to another Uncrustable and a glass of chocolate milk. At least he had grabbed a Monster. Not only did he not need the caffeine, but they were running low since Tim had dropped by, deciding to work on a case at their house instead of his place or the Batcave. Something-something about how Bruce had done something that ticked off Tim. Anyways, he had put a massive dent in the Monster supply, and that was Jason’s go-to energy drink. Mo preferred Ghost.

“I thought you were asleep,” Damian said as Delaney climbed up onto the couch and settled in beside him. She stole a chunk of his Uncrustable. “That’s mine…”

“Mine first,” Del said in a matter-of-fact tone, “And I was sleeping but then I wasn’t. Are you still full of mad?”

“Mostly,” Damian said. He sighed as she grabbed his chocolate milk, but she seemed to take some of the spitfire out of his expression. “Why don’t you get your own?”

“Because this wasn’t supposed to be snack time,” Mo said. “Del, say goodnight again so you can go back to bed.”

“I will,” Delaney said. She smiled and flopped backwards on the couch. “After another story.”

Damian frowned. “You didn’t like when I read to you.”

“One more. You’ll do good this time.”

“I guess I could mimic other people’s voices. But I’m not doing those other silly voices.”

“I dunno what mimic means, but yes!”

Delaney wiggled off the couch and pulled on Damian’s sleeve until he got up too. While Delaney dragged him upstairs to pick out a new book, Mo cleaned up the living room, putting the dishes in the sink and toys back in their basket and setting books on the coffee table. That little bit of work was tiring. Telling herself she would get up in a few minutes, she settled onto the couch, her hand over her eyes. Only a moment of rest.

The living room lamps were on but the house was still and silent as Jason stepped inside. It had been a weird patrol. Cass and Duke had been in the middle of tracking down someone who was making counterfeit money, and Jason had joined in for the final part where they busted the operation. Then he had stopped a mugging, chased down and tackled a purse snatcher, and walked a grandma home from late-night bingo at the rec center. After making sure she made it home safe, he had sat by his favorite gargoyle and watched lights around the city turn on and off while he disassociated, wishing he was back at the beach house. He had been going on less patrols lately. He still thought they were important and he wanted to protect people, but he also wanted to be at home. It was an odd feeling.  

Mo was asleep on the couch, squished into one corner, her face partially hidden in the cushions. Jason wondered where Damian was and if Delaney was sleeping in her bed or if she had made her way to Mo’s.

Bending down by the couch, Jason carefully lifted Mo into his arms. 

Her hazel eyes opened to slits as she looped her arms around his neck. Her short auburn hair brushed his cheek as she readjusted her hold. Her shampoo smelled like blackberries. “What time is it?”

“After four,” he said, heading for the stairs.

Mo yawned. “You can put me down.”

“In a minute.”

“You mean when you get to my bed,” she said, “How was patrol? You okay?”

“I made a new friend.”

“Alert the newspapers,” Mo teased, “Jason Todd, wannabe broody recluse, makes yet another friend. He’s failing miserably at being a lone wolf, folks.”

“Her name’s Bertha and she’s going make caramel-swirl brownies for Red Hood,” Jason said, “So go ahead and pick on me. No brownies for you.”

”Mean. Put me down, I want to walk.”

Jason reluctantly set her down at the top of the stairs, his hands on her waist until she was completely steady. She brushed her fingers against his wrist before she went over to peek into Delaney’s room. Smirking, she crooked her finger at him. 

Jason crossed the hall and looked into the room over her head. She was more than a foot shorter than him, so it was easy. Delaney was asleep in her bed, and Damian was asleep on the rug, a mermaid tail blanket tossed over his chest. A pillow had been thrown down there for him, too. 

Jason snorted and back up. Damian must worn himself out. Jason backed up, catching Mo’s elbow and gently pulling her with him. 

“Not going to try putting him to bed?” she whispered.

“When he’s in a punchy mood? It’d end in a fight. The worst he’ll get is a crick in his neck.”

Mo nodded. After a quiet goodnight, she went into her room, and Jason headed back downstairs to turn off the lights.

He was halfway down the stairs when the lights went off on their own. Jason went still. They didn’t have any kind of voice-activated home assistance. The power hadn’t gone off. 

A familiar cool blue-white glow drifted up the stairs in wisps and curls. He recognized the gleam even it was hundreds of miles from where Jason had last seen it.

This was impossible. There was no way for these particular ghost lights to be here, but they were beckoning to him, drawing him along. Cautiously he followed them downstairs and out the back door, down the porch steps and onto the sand of the backyard beach. Moonlight glimmered on the calm ocean waves. Jason’s skin prickled. His heart raced in his chest as he approached the spirit that perched in the middle of a circle of sparking All-Caste runes etched into the sand. 

“Gotta say, didn’t expect to see you here, old lady,” he said as he approached the ring, confused and uncertain. “I thought your spirit couldn’t leave the Himalayas.”

“It isn’t supposed to, but you’ve always driven me to the unexpected, pup,” Ducra said, her voice ancient as the Dead Sea Scrolls. But she was older. The shade of a woman who had been alive before history started, who had spent her life fighting her own family, the Untitled. She had died a few years ago, murdered. What remained of her was supposed to be tied to the Hundred Acres of All, the home of the All-Caste, until she faded away. 

So yeah, he was shocked to see her in his backyard.

“Is this because I was looking for Essence?”

Ducra patted the sand in front of her. “Sit. Don’t argue for once. We don’t have very long.”

Jason glanced over his shoulder at the house.

“I’m not here to hurt them. The opposite, perhaps. The children sleep. Now come here, knucklehead.”

He crossed into the circle. He felt All-Caste magic hum against him, warm, inviting, easy for him to wield after all that training. Jason sat down in front of his mentor. “You’ve got my attention.”

“Not that hard to do in life and an even easier task for a ghost,” she mused. She looked as she had in life, squat and wrinkled, dressed in a robe with two cutesy hairclips in her hair. Except she was blueish-white and see-through. He missed her and her insulting sense of humor. “When you searched for Isabel and my daughter, it opened your mind to the All-Caste again. Your heart’s cry reached me in the Acres. I turned my sight toward you.” 

The light curled around them, twisting with the crash of ocean waves. Jason frowned. “I wasn’t reaching out. How could you hear me?”

“I was the leader of a sect of mystical assassins charged with protecting the planet from an ultimate form of evil for centuries, are you really questioning me about my hearing?”

When Jason didn’t snark back, she continued. 

“I saw this family of yours,” Ducra said, “I saw how much you love them, how it blots out so much of your rage, caring for others. But I also see that you will need what the All-Caste gave you to protect that girl.”

“You mean Delaney?” Jason asked, “What about her?”

Ducra lifted both hands. “She shines with potential. She has the talent, though what she uses it for will be for her to decide.”

“What exactly does that mean?” he demanded, “Don’t speak in riddles, not about her.”

“How did you survive my training and not know what the talent is?” Her form wavered. “I’m not intending to speak riddles, but I don’t have much time. Find Constantine. Bad attitude, wealth of knowledge, ask your father. Constantine can tell you more, but don’t trust him too much.”

“Ducra, you’re not making a lot of sense.”

“I’m barely clinging to the mortal realm, insolent pup,” she said, sounding like a creaky rocking chair, “I know what you were seeking. But healing spells in the All-Caste are for wounds, not disease. Essence would not be able to heal Imogen Evans. There may be another way, but I will need to speak to her first.”

“Then talk.”

Jason and Ducra both looked toward the house. Mo was halfway between them and the porch, holding a shovel that had been on left out. She held it up over her shoulder like a baseball bat. 

“Spunky. But I’m immune to shovels, cub,” Ducra said. She levitated to her feet and glided toward Imogen. 

Jason hurried to his feet and went toward them, but the circle stopped him. The runes burned against the sand. “Let me out, Ducra.”

"Soon." Humming to herself, she circled Imogen. “You can see me…the talent was inherited. That’s good.” Her fingers brushed through Mo’s neck. “Strong heart, for all your physical weakness. I’m guessing fae blood, long ago.”

“You said my daughter needs to be protected,” Mo said, still holding on tight to the baseball bat. “I’m starting to think it’s from you.”

Ducra laughed, but it didn’t sound mocking. “You have the spirit for it, that’s certain. But not many survive. He was the first in thousand years.”

Ducra had to be talking about the Cleansing. But they didn’t have the fountain. Mo wasn’t trained for it, she would drown, she—

“Don’t touch her!” Jason shouted, slamming a fist against the invisible ward that held him back. Magic pulsed.

“I have a daughter, too,” Ducra said to Mo, “I’ve never loved anything more in my entire life, and I’ve been through centuries. You know how that feels, don’t you, girl, to hold your child in your arms and want nothing more than to love them. You want the best for them. No matter the cost.”

Mo lowered the shovel. She was actually listening to Ducra. 

“Mo, don’t talk to her,” Jason said, pacing behind the ward, “Don’t do anything she says.”

Mo’s eyes met his for a moment. When she looked away, back toward Ducra, he punched the ward again.

“I have moments left. I’m coming untethered, cub, a decision must be made,” Ducra said, “What would you do to protect your daughter? How far would you go?”

Mo didn’t hesitate. “I’d do anything and go anywhere for her.”

“Then survive this and keep her safe. I wish I could have done the same for my daughter. And watch over for my wayward wolf, if you don't mind.”

A sword, silver and blue, appeared in Ducra’s hand. It had runes etched into the blade and a bright white hilt. She angled it up. No, no, no. With the decisiveness that came from thousands of years of wielding death, she thrust the sword through Imogen’s heart.

Light beamed from runes that burned around the wound and along Mo’s arms. She fell, her knees hitting the sand as she crumpled.

The All-Blades burst into Jason’s hands as a wordless cry tore through him. He slashed the swords both across the warding spell. It broke, shattering into blue and white shards, and then he was running, the All-Blades fading as he dropped to the ground beside Mo. The sword Ducra had used dissipated into teal and silver flickers, the blue shifting shades before disappearing. 

Jason pressed his hand over Mo’s heart, trying to stem the blood before lifting her so he could see if the sword had pierced through her back. It hadn’t. Her pajama shirt was whole. He lowered her back down and lifted his hand for a moment to see the extent of the wound. But there was no blood. No wound. He pressed his fingers to her neck, feeling for her pulse. It was weak but steady. 

Going into combat medic mode like Alfred had taught him, he checked her over, wondering if he hadn’t seen that blow land right. She was uninjured, at least visibly, but she felt feverish. Her skin was hot and clammy. 

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Jason snapped at Ducra. 

“She has the fight in her. Now she has the power. This is her Cleansing, if she lives, if she can control it. They’re not all the same. Don’t forget, ask Constantine. Cunning little crook.” Ducra was fading, the ghost lights catching the wind. “Make your life glorious.”

Jason didn’t stay behind to watch the last shreds of Ducra dwindle away to nothing. He picked up Mo and started back toward the house.

“Damian!” he shouted. “Damian!”

His brother was already opening the back door. “Did you see that light—” Damian’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

“Call Dad. Call him right now, tell him we’ll be at the cave in five minutes and to tell Alfred to get the medbay ready. Then go get Delaney and meet me at the Jeep. Don’t scare Del!”

As Damian ran back inside, Jason rushed through the house, holding Mo tight against his chest, willing her to stay, to fight whatever was happening. He couldn't lose her. Not now, not like this.

Chapter Text

Mo floated in the middle of an endless lake. Overhead, the sky was robin’s egg blue, and cloudless. Sunless, too, even though it was bright. It would be nice to rest here, serene and painless and calm. She wasn’t tired. Nothing hurt. Her body didn’t feel like it was breaking anymore. 

Why would it, it was lovely here.

It’s not real, a voice in her mind screamed. It was her own voice, furious and insistent. None of it. Go home!

But it was real. She could feel the lukewarm water that cradled her. She could hear her fingers splish against the mirror flat surface. She could smell…tear-proof bubblegum-scented shampoo. And motor oil. And peanut butter jelly sandwiches and saltwater tears and pine trees—

Gasping, Mo stopped floating and grabbed at her chest, terrified that she was going to bleed out, but she wasn’t wounded. There was no sword or any gaping hole left to show where it had been. Breathing hard, she started treading water, turning, searching for land or a way out. She had no idea where she was, but Delaney needed her. That ghost woman had said she could protect Del if she survived. And she was supposed to look after Jason, he was going to be mad that she’d talked to the ghost, but he couldn’t tell her what to do—Jason… She had to live through whatever this was. It couldn’t be just a lake under a clear sky. There had to be a way out, one she couldn’t see.

Taking a deep breath, she dove into the depths below her. 

Instantly she resurfaced under a cloudless blue sky. 

“Shit.”

Jason paced beside Mo’s hospital bed in the cave’s medbay, arms crossed tight over his chest, trying to quell the angry aching helpless feeling. Mo was still unconscious. Her condition hadn’t gotten worse over the last hour, but it hadn’t improved. She was running a fever, and her heart rate was faster than it should have been. Mo looked so small and pale and still. Way too still.

The drive over from the beach house had been quick and filled with Delaney’s muffled sobs. She hadn’t said a word when Damian had put her in the Jeep and she had seen her mom unconscious in the front seat. Jason had told her that Mo didn’t feel good so she was sleeping and Damian had tried to reassure her that Alfred would help, but Del had covered her eyes and started quietly crying. She didn’t speak at all. 

When they had reached the cave, Alfred had helped Jason get Mo out of the front seat and into the medbay while Duke had met Damian and Del, picking up Del, talking gently to her. His brothers had put themselves in charge of Delaney, but he needed to check on her soon. She had to be so scared. 

On the other side of the bed, Alfred and Leslie were talking, looking at the images they had tried to take using the CT and MRI machines. The pictures were splotchy with starburst blots of white and whisps of grey. They had tried to get X-rays and gotten the same effect.

“They all come out the same,” Leslie said, shaking her head at the screens. “And it’s not the machines.” They had tested one out on Tim, who had come back to the cave along with Steph and Cass. Dick had arrived, too, not long after the others. He had been on his way to Gotham anyways to check on Damian after learning about his argument with Bruce. Everyone was hovering around the cave. Worrying. The tension was getting to Jason.

“It must be magical interference,” Alfred sighed, “Master Bruce, I don’t see a way around it. You must contact one of your more mystically-inclined cohorts.”

“Zatanna isn’t answering,” Bruce said. Diana was unreachable; Bruce had said she was dealing with a family matter and he didn’t know where she had gone. B was sitting next to the bed, holding Mo’s hand. Jason wanted to do that, but he couldn’t stay still right now, he had to move. 

“So you’ve said. However, you do know others.”

“I told you, Ducra said to talk to Constantine,” Jason snapped, “Why won’t you call him? He’s our only real lead.”

“You said you weren’t sure if she meant to ask him about Delaney or the All-Caste,” Bruce said, looking away from Mo to frown at him. “Constantine is a last resort option. He’s unreliable, shifty, selfish—”

“I don’t care,” Jason interrupted. He already knew all that, he had heard Bruce grumble about Constantine and magic and all sorts of shit in the past. He’d never met the guy himself, but Ducra had said his name more than once. He was part of the answer here. “I’m not letting him near Del, but we need answers. Give me your phone, I’ll call if you won’t.” 

Bruce let go of Mo’s hand and stood up. “I know you’re hurting and we’re all scared for Mo, but Constantine could do her more harm than good.”

“I don’t see how he could make it worse,” Jason said.

“You haven’t met this man. He’s dangerous,” Bruce insisted, his posture rigid, protective. “You don’t know what’s he done, he can definitely make it worse for her.”

“I texted you his number, Jason.” 

Jason turned toward the open medbay entrance. Dick had his phone in his hand as he stepped into the room, scowling at Bruce. “This isn’t your decision, B. You don’t get to keep Jason from doing this if he feels like reaching out to Constantine is the right thing to do for Mo.” He turned to look at Mo, his glare softening into desperation. “Zatanna says he’s a self-described asshole but I know he’s not all bad.”

“I’m not trying to take Jason’s choice away,” Bruce said, frustrated. “But we need to think it through. Neither of you have had to deal with Constantine How do you even have his number?”

“I asked Zatanna for it just in case,” Dick said. “You’re not the only one who makes back-up plans. And I’ve kind of met him but we’re not getting into that right now.”

Bruce stared at Dick while Jason fished his cell phone out of his phone. The new contact Dick had sent him read ‘J. Constantine 😈🧙🏻‍♂️😨🚭,’ which didn’t inspire any positive feelings in this serious situation.  Jason gripped the phone tighter. “How do we control him, if he’s going to be that much of a problem?”

“We don’t need to control him, we just have to make him curious or convince him that helping us is in his best interest,” Dick said. “Tell him you’ll owe him a favor.”

“Don’t do that,” Bruce warned. 

“Look, right now your only advice is don’t call the guy in the first place,” Dick said, whirling on Bruce. “Mo was stabbed with a spectral assassin sword and there’s not even a scar left but you won’t entertain the idea of contacting someone who could help because you hate magic so much—”

“It’s an uncontrollable factor, Dick, and in this situation—”

“Stop that right now,” Leslie said, her voice cutting through their argument and Jason’s rising anxiety. Her hands were balled into fists at her side, her eyes practically sparkling with annoyance. “Imogen is stable for now, but we need to know more about her condition, and neither Alfred or I know the slightest thing about supernatural comas. None of our scans are reliable, the monitoring equipment isn’t working. Whatever this is doesn’t like technology. We have to try something else.”

“Regardless of your well-founded misgivings, Master Bruce, I don’t see another option. Therefore, I must agree with Richard,” Alfred said. He clasped his hands behind his back and met Jason’s eyes. “In any case, Miss Imogen told me a few weeks ago that if something happened to her and she needed a medical proxy, she would choose you. This is solely your decision, Master Jason.”

Jason sat down on the edge of Mo’s bed. He set his elbow on his knee and put his chin in his hand, palm covering his mouth. He badly wanted her to wake up right now and snark at them for all this fighting. He wanted her to tell him what she would choose. Straightening up, Jason lightly stroked the back of Mo’s hand before squeezing her fingers. She might not have wanted the Lazarus Pit or for him to hunt for Essence, but she had wanted the time she had left. He wasn’t going to let that be taken from her.

“She’d take the chance,” he said, reluctantly letting go of her. He glanced at Bruce. “I need you to back me up.”

“I will, if you’re set on this,” Bruce said firmly. “But I need to go get something from the lab.”

“If it makes you feel better, whatever, go for it,” Jason said. 

“I can call him,” Bruce said, but Jason shook his head.

“I’m going to. I’ll step out. I need to check on Delaney.”

“I’ll stay with Mo,” Dick said, reaching out and squeezing Jason’s shoulder. Dick switched places with him, sitting on the edge of the bed while Jason walked out of the medbay and into the cave. Duke was at the central computer station, legs up in his chair, while he talked quietly with Steph, who was perched on the edge of the massive desk. They both glanced over at him.

“Where’s Del?” he asked.

“Cass, Tim, and Damian are with her,” Duke said.

“They’re in the rec room,” Steph added, “Need us to get them?”

“No, I’m heading that way.” He could call Constantine and go straight to the rec room afterward. 

It had started as an unofficial place for them to unwind when they need a moment to rest and disassociate after a mission or patrol before getting out of uniform and going upstairs. Bruce had noticed them laying on the floor and staring up at the stalactites or sprawling out in the Bat-vehicles or lying on the ceiling beams. He must’ve gotten tired of stepping over or around them because he converted one of the labs into the rec room. There were a couple couches, a bunk bed in the corner, a basketball hoop attached to the wall, a convertible ping-pong-pool table, bean bags, and more fidget toys than a Five Below. It wasn’t far from the garage, but he had to go up one set of steps to get up there. 

Jason detoured past the bottom of the steps and over to the edge of an overhang. Below, the dock bobbed on the underground river, a few boats and one small submarine moored alongside the platform. Jason added Constantine’s number and hit Call.

It rang until voicemail kicked in, not a personal message but a robotic one that recited the number back at him. Jason hung up and called again. Same thing. On the third call, he finally got an answer. 

“Piss off, unknown number. Not taking new misadventures for the foreseeable future, so dig a hole and stick your head in it if this is about that imp infestation.”

“No imps,” Jason said, “Different problem.”

“It’s four in the morning, have your problems at a better time." Glasses clinked on the other end of the phone. "Who is this?”

“It’s seven in Gotham,” Jason said, not sure how to ask for help now that he had the wizard guy on the phone. Most of the time he manipulated or threatened people like this into working with him. He hoped that name-dropping Batman’s hometown would catch Constantine’s attention.

“Tall, Dark, and Broody?” Constantine seemed to instantly perk up. His tone turned maliciously cheerful. “And you called me, who would’ve thought. That really you, Bats?”

“Close,” Jason said, “Look, how soon can you get on a plane?”

“I don’t need a plane. Mundane mode of transportation these days, air travel,” Constantine responded, “But I’m not coming just because you’re beckoning. You haven’t said what you’re asking for.”

“We’ve got a magical situation here, and Ducra said to talk to you, that you would know things.”

“That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long minute,” Constantine said, “I didn’t think the old harridan ever left her part of the mountains.”

“She’s not supposed to, she’s dead.”

“Ah, so you’ve got assassin ghost drama.”

“In a way,” Jason said, “She showed up, stabbed one of my friends with a mystic sword, then disappeared out of existence. My friend is in some kind of coma, but we can’t learn anything because the machines don’t work around her.”

“Have you unplugged them and then plugged them back in?”

Jason felt a wild flash of rage. “This isn’t funny.”

“Eh,” Constantine huffed, “You woke me up at this unholy hour, you get what you get if you need mystic consultation.” He yawned loudly into the receiver. Beyond him, Jason could hear distant laughter and music, like Constantine was sleeping at a bar. “Look, I’ve got to do a thing, but if I’m not busy later this morning, I’ll show up. Bats has a big backyard, doesn’t he? Only been twice before.”

“There’s no time—”

“Sure there is, Hood. Time enough for you to measure the backyard, there’s good man.”

The call cut off. 

Jason clenched the phone in his fist. For a second, he wanted to hurl it into the river. Self-described asshole was putting it mildly. But he couldn’t let his fury get the best of him, he needed to calm down before going up to see Delaney. He wondered how Constatine had known who he was. He hadn’t said who was calling, only that it wasn’t Batman. Jason chalked it up to magic. No wonder it drove Bruce up the wall. All-Caste magic had always seemed straight-forward to him, all the magic was intended to fight evil and he had mostly focused on using the All-Blades, not the rest of it. 

After taking a few deep breaths to crush his frustration, Jason headed up the stairs. The rec room was quiet. On the couch, Tim was sitting cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees, forehead pressed against into his fingers. He lifted his head when Jason moved into the room, apprehension all over his face.

“Nothing’s changed,” Jason said, realizing his younger brother thought something might’ve gotten worse with Mo. “I just wanted to check on Del.”

Tim turned his head toward the large table that was currently set up for pool. Underneath it, someone had dragged a few blankets and pillows. Cass and Damian were under the table too, flanking Delaney, who was laying on her stomach between them. She was mostly nuzzled up against Cass. Jason had hoped she had gone to sleep, but Del sat up and crawled out from under the table. Racing across the room, she launched herself into Jason’s arms, sniffling.

He hugged her and kissed the side of her head. “Hey, munchkin. Have you slept at all?”

Del shook her head. She looped her arms around Jason’s neck as Cass and Damian came out from under the table, too. 

“You’ve gotta be tired. It’s okay to sleep,” he said, swaying back and forth. “You could sleep on the bunk bed, if you want?”

Without answering him, Delaney pressed her forehead against the crook of his neck.

“Delaney…?”

“She hasn’t spoken since we arrived,” Damian said. Concern made him sound younger, more like the eleven year old he actually was.

Cass bent down and picked up a toy, a bear that someone must have gone upstairs to get from Delaney’s room in the manor. Now he recognized the shimmery scale-pattern blanket and the purple and teal pillow. “She wouldn’t even talk to Dick. He tried.”

Delaney was one of the most talkative kids he had ever known. She did tend to get quieter when she was scared, but having her stay completely silent for two hours while surrounded by people she loved was worrisome. He wasn’t going to force her to talk, but he needed her to sleep. It’d be good if Del would let someone take her up to her room so she could actually be comfortable, but when Alfred had tried to lead her upstairs earlier, she had twisted out away and bolted. Bruce had caught her and carried her around the cave for a while before he handed her over to Dick. 

“Take a nap, Del,” Jason said, “A short one.”

“You could sleep, too,” Tim muttered.

He couldn’t. He was too afraid for Mo, too worried about Del, mad at Constantine, and he needed to measure the backyard. Jason kept swaying in place while his thoughts hit up against each other. Tim put on some white noise, the sound of ocean waves crashing on the shore. Eventually Del’s breathing evened out. She sagged in his arm.

Jason made his way to the couch and sat down next to Tim. Damian was instantly at his other side, and Cass scooted in next to Tim. 

“Tim. How big is the backyard?”

“I should know off the top of my head, but I’ll look it up.”

“Why do you need to know?” Damian asked.

“I don’t, but Constantine does.”

Tim whipped his head around toward Jason so fast it would be surprising if he hadn’t given himself a crick in the neck. “Bruce is letting Constantine come here? On purpose?”

“I invited him.”

“There are worse people to ask for help from,” Cass said.

Jason hoped she was right and that he hadn’t made an enormous mistake and somehow doomed them all. 

Chapter Text

A few hours later, Jason stood in the backyard of the manor, glowering at the large empty space between the garden and the barn. A few fallen leaves tumbled over the pale brown grass. When he had sent Tim’s measurements to Constantine, the asshole had demanded pictures, too, not even acknowledging that he got what he asked for in the first place. A few shots from the security cameras had been good enough, according to the guy, who took a few hours to respond. 

Now Jason was outside waiting for…he didn’t know what. A magic time and space splitting portal? A dimension door? Some kind of mystic teleportation.

All he knew was that Constantine said he was on his way, to meet him in the backyard, and that everyone needed to stay out of the big empty spot. That had been almost thirty minutes ago and there was no sign of Constantine.

Standing here doing jack shit was driving Jason crazy.

Beside him, Bruce looked like someone had carved him out of granite. Jason hadn’t wanted him to tag along, but he had overheard when Jason asked Dick to stay with Mo for him. Delaney had been asleep on a bottom bunk bed with Cass and Damian watching over her. He was glad she hadn’t woken up when he had put her down; hopefully she would stay asleep for a while. 

Jason hadn’t been out of the manor long before Bruce had shown up to stand sentinel beside him. He didn’t want to talk to Bruce, so he couldn’t tell him to take a hike.

Tim had also followed Jason outside. He wasn’t far away, having stopped at garden, where he hidden himself behind a shrub. Jason had almost been amused, but it was nice to have back-up that was equally paranoid as Bruce but not as judgmental in this case.

Jason took out his phone and shot off another text to Constantine, asking him where he was. Bruce took in a small breath through his teeth.

“Don’t,” Jason said. He jammed the phone back into his jacket pocket. “Don’t start with me.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Bruce said.

Jason glared at him. “You didn’t want me to contact him, and now he’s not showing. You should be happy.”

“Jason,” Bruce said, a furrow of concern appearing as he frowned. “I’m not happy about that.”

“Why not? You’re getting your way, that usually makes you smug and satisfied, at least,” Jason snapped. It should’ve felt good to lash out but it only made his stomach twist harder. “Go ahead and say ‘I told you so.’” Or something like that. Bruce had made it clear he didn’t like Constantine and thought he was untrustworthy. Now Constantine was proving him right.

“That’s not…” Bruce turned toward him, his stony posture loosening. “I don’t like how volatile magic can be and I don’t approve of Constantine’s—anything. But if he can help Mo and not hurt her or you or Delaney, then I want him to. Under supervision.” He reached toward Jason’s arm then let his hand drop when Jason stepped away.

“Yeah, sure you do.” Jason shoved his hands into his jean pockets. 

Bruce started to say something else, but a house appeared on the lawn. 

Maybe four stories tall plus an odd tower tacked on like an afterthought, it levitated a foot off the ground and rotated until its front porch and door were pointed at the back of the manor. Like a giant kid was placing a Lego house in just the right spot, the house lowered itself to the ground then shoved a couple feet to the right, gouging the grass. 

The front door opened. A blond guy in a tan trench coat stumbled out, blood streaming down from a jagged cut over his right eye, glowing symbols rotating around his head. He swatted at a tiny, crimson, bat-winged humanoid thing that zoomed out the door after him, trying to hit him with a fork. Not a pitchfork, a regular fork that would come from a kitchen drawer. More of the same creatures in shades of red buzzed out of the house and chased after him. The whole small swarm was armed with silverware. 

Now Bruce did grab Jason’s arm. Startled, Jason tried to shrug him off as Bruce moved forward, hauling Jason backward so B could stand between him and the weird house and who he was pretty sure was Constantine.

“B, the hell—”

“Just don’t stand there, make yourselves useful!” Constantine shouted as he ran past, heading for a fountain. A single glowing rune from the circle spiraling around his head shot off and hit a flying thing. It exploded into red mist. “Salt a few boomerangs, imps hate that.”

Jason stared at the guy dove into the fountain. It was just deep enough for him to be fully submerged. The flying things, which Jason guessed were imps, hovered over the rippling water before rotating as one toward a nearby bush.

“Tim, move it!” Jason shouted as Bruce took off toward the shrub. Tim burst out from behind the shrub and dashed toward the house instead of toward them. Knowing him, he was going after some salt.

Bruce surged into the fountain, ducking as the creatures pelted him with silverware. He grunted as a knife sliced the back of his hand while he reached down into the water.

He yanked Constantine up by the collar of his trench coat. “Fix it.” Bruce leaned his head to the side to avoid a fork. 

“Get off, I’m working on it. I needed a second to get m’bearings,” Constantine said, grimacing. Another rune peeled off and burrowed into an imp. It burst into blood, splattering Constantine and Bruce, who looked increasingly pissed off. 

Bruce shook Constantine by the scruff like he was trying to violently reset the English guy for a better answer.

Jason pulled out the pistols he had armed himself with before coming outside. He shot off a couple rounds, each hitting an imp. They crashed to the ground but kept twitching. The bullets left holes but the wounds stitched themselves together, strands of flesh grasping toward each other like bloody animated spiderwebs. If he hadn’t spent time fighting the Untitled, he would’ve been more grossed out. Both imps got up and took flight again.

Although he didn’t do any actual damage, he succeeded in getting the swarm’s attention. 

Shit. 

Jason started walking backwards toward the weird house as the swarm turned and came after him. Bruce shouted something. He threw Constantine out of the fountain. A handful of imps in the back of the pack exploded as Constantine’s runes slammed into them, but there were still about thirty left.

His boot hit the first step of the house. Moving seamlessly up the first few steps, Jason kept shooting, mentally keeping track of his bullet count. At least the imps were all dodging now, barrel-rolling and doing loops, which slowed them down. 

One of the imps dove at him. Jason lifted his arm and blocked a direct hit from a steak knife carried by the hefty imp. His leather jacket kept it from cutting him. The little monster giggled and slashed at him again, its movements jerky but unnaturally fast. Heat blazed across his cheek. The imp licked the edge of the blade. That high pitched laughter morphed and became deeper, mocking, a terrible familiar chuckle that froze his blood and made Jason trip on the last step. 

He hit the porch, his heart thundering in his chest as the rest of the imps echoed the Joker’s laugh. He wanted to start shooting erratically to get rid of the noise, but he might hit Bruce or the blond idiot—bellowing, he grabbed the big imp in one hand and pummeled it repeatedly against the wooden porch, bloodying his knuckles. The Joker laughter became squeaks of shock. 

The house creaked. It sounded like it approved. 

A stream of water blasted through the imps. Three of them fell and started melting into piles of red ooze. The swarm broke apart and flew upward before rolling backwards and angling toward Tim, who had brought Duke and a pair of Super Soakers. Duke was right behind Tim, shooting jets of water over his head, while Tim sniped the imp Jason had been punching into the porch. It squealed as it began to dissolve. Jason swiped his hand over his pants leg to get off the mess.
 
Still feeling like his heart was going to leap out of his chest, Jason grabbed his guns again as Tim came toward him. Duke went to cover Bruce and Constantine, spraying the Super Soaker as he went. 

“What are you doing?!” Tim yelled at Jason, shooting the Super Soaker at the swarm, “You dual wield magic swords, use them!”

Right, the All-Blades. Jason rarely thought about them but now seemed like the right time to use the mystic swords. He focused on the All-Blades, and they manifested just in time for him to slice the right one through an imp that was dive bombing Tim while he charged up the Super Soaker. His second swing took out another one. Instead of becoming blood mist, they blew apart into copper sparks. 

A cracking boom made both Jason and Tim drop to the ground, Jason throwing himself over his brother. Alfred stood by the porch, shotgun aimed at what was left of the swarm. There were bits and pieces of imp everywhere. Duke jumped into action, dousing anything that moved, while Constantine did whatever he was doing with the circle of runes. 

“You’re squishing me,” Tim grumbled.

Jason got up, grabbed Tim’s hand, and pulled him to his feet. 

In a few moments, the yard was quiet. It stank like sulfur and rot, but there weren’t any more creatures flying around.

“Is everyone all right?” Alfred asked. He had the shotgun aimed at Constantine, who eyed it and hooked his thumbs into his pockets. The circlet of runes had faded away or been used up.

Jason was sure his blood pressure was through the roof, but that didn’t matter right now. He stalked toward Constantine. “I thought you weren’t doing the imp infestation.” 

“I wasn’t until I saw what they were offering to clear them out. Trust me when I say it was worth it. You’re Unknown Number, aren’t you?” Constantine didn’t wait for Jason to respond as he made a quick movement with his fingers and muttered something under his breath. His clothes instantly dried off but the water splashed all around him, including onto Bruce, who was already partially drenched from the fountain. 

Duke turned his Super Soaker toward Constantine and raised an eyebrow at Bruce, who waited a long moment before he shook his head.

“You’re late,” Bruce said to Constantine.

Constantine shrugged. “I came as fast as I could. Hence the company.” He glanced down at a steaming pile of imp remains. “You lot are pretty quick. What was in that, salt water?” Constantine turned toward Duke. “You keep water guns at easy reach in December?”

Duke hadn’t lowered the Super Soaker. “We get bored. Why did you park a house in our yard?”

Constantine looked back over his shoulder at the house. “Seemed a bad idea to put it on top of your bloody expensive mansion.” He pressed his fingertips against the cut over his right eye. “Anyone good with stitches?”

Alfred made a face. “Our infirmary is currently occupied.” But he did flick his gaze at Bruce then Jason, taking in their scrapes and cuts.

“Right, your coma girl,” Constantine said, “Perhaps someone can take care of me head while I take a look at her. You do still want me to, otherwise I’ll leave off—”

Jason pointed an All-Blade at Constantine. “Try and take one step toward your creepy house.”

Constantine gave the sword a curious glance before meeting Jason’s eyes. He smirked. “Lead the way, mate.”

“No smoking in the manor or the cave,” Alfred said.

The smirk evaporated. “Never did like this place.”