Archive of Our Own ^beta

Once upon a time, the gods ruled the world. But their time was over, they have been forgotten.

They died.

But if you are careful, you can find extraordinary existences. The ancient gods are dead, but their souls still live.

Tim settled himself better on the roof, clutching his camera.

 He was cold, it threatened to snow at any moment and it was long past his bedtime.

 But what Ms. Mac didn't know wouldn't hurt her.  A cup of coffee tomorrow and Tim will go to school like he's got eight hours of sleep.

 He had better things to do than go to sleep.  Like, for example, photographing Gotham's Rouges.

 Was it dangerous?  It was, and a lot.

 Was he reckless and irresponsible?  Eh, he took his precautions.

 Should he have found a quieter hobby that didn't put his life at risk?  Probably yes.

 The problem was that Tim was naturally curious.  When he set about something he had to get it done, no matter how difficult and/or risky it was.

 And what he wanted was to find out who was dealing with Gotham's criminals at night and protecting the city.

 Arkham had serious security problems, but someone sent the criminals there.  Sure as hell it wasn't the police: Commissioner Gordon did the best of him, but he found himself fighting windmills.

 Someone helped him.  Tim wanted to find out who.

 If he doesn't die of cold sooner, that is.

 He changed the camera lens, biting his lip impatiently.  Two-Face hadn't shown up yet, and it seemed Penguin's men were running out of patience.

 Was it a trap?  He saw the men of Two-Face looking at each other, waiting for a signal.  Or they too were anxious for their boss not to show up.

 Business between Penguin and Two-Face always tended to be unpredictable.

 Who knows how soon the criminals will draw their guns and the situation will go from being bad to being bad.

 Tim expected ten minutes.

 The boy was about to take a closer look when he heard a faint sound of wings behind him.  A pigeon, probably.  But given Gotham's aesthetic, it might as well have been a raven.

I hope it doesn't fly in front of the camera.  It would be annoying to have to take pictures again.

 Something brushed his cheek, burning a lot.

 Tim watched in disbelief as something like a feather planted next to him like a knife in butter.

 The child felt something warm fall down his cheek: with trembling fingers, he brought a hand to his face, then retracted it and felt nauseated seeing the blood.

Tim heard the sound of wings again and raised his head. Above him was a bird-woman with shaggy feathers and clawed paws, and fiery red eyes.

 The creature let out a screech that rang through Gotham's still night.

 Tim had heard of Killer Croc, of Mr. Freeza, even of Poison Ivy.  But such a monster he didn't even think it could exist.

 "Calm down ... think of a plan..."

 The monster opened its amber wings in a large gesture and then closed them again and sprinted towards the child.

 Tim's instincts took over and he threw himself backward.

 More feathers were planted near his legs.

 Without thinking twice, the child took the backpack and sprinted towards the fire escape.

 I'm not fast enough.  I can't get over it.  I have to find a place to hide.

 The creature screamed and swooped towards Tim.  It bumped into the wall as he slid down the fire escape.

 Tim nearly flew down the stairs, jumping steps in panic

 Finally, he reached the sidewalk.

 As soon as he felt stable on his legs, he started running again.

 He ventured to glance over his shoulder and thought he saw the silhouette of the creature that continued to follow him from above.

 He heard that chilling sound again, followed by others like it.

 He understood what it meant.  More were coming.

 Tim disappeared into the alley, hoping to find a place to hide.  If he survives the night, he will never leave the house again at night.

 (It wasn't true, but hey, impossible promises were always made.)

"It's my fault", Tim thought, running as hard as he could to save his life from the bird-woman.

 He held his camera tightly, and for a moment he thought maybe his father was right to say it was a stupid hobby.

 He saw some garbage cans.  The smell was sickening, but it was the only safe hiding place.

 Ms. Mac will kill me.

 He threw himself into the largest bin, ignoring as best he could the stuff he was surrounded by.  He didn't want to think that he ended up on an alleged sack containing a corpse, absolutely not!

 Tim was breathing softly, careful not to make any noise.  He didn't know where the monster was, if he was still looking for it or if he got past it, but he knew better than to reveal his hiding place so soon.

 Tim closed his eyes and clenched his fists to his chest.  He waited.

 He didn't know how long he stayed in that position, but a noise outside caught his attention.  They were male voices.

 "I didn't need your help."

 "Jaybird, you were alone against half a dozen harpies ..."

 "So?  They were just harpies. "

 A sigh, "You should be more careful if you don't want to ..."

 “What if I don't want to die?  Too late for that. "

 "Little brother ..."

 Tim's eyes widened, putting his hands in front of the south so as not to scream.  He knew those people.  It was impossible not to do it when they attended the same galas: they were the two adopted children of Bruce Wayne.

 At that point, curiosity got the better of him (he was still a child, even though he and his parents liked to pretend otherwise) and he leaned out of his hiding place to get a better look.

 It was them!  Dick Greyson and Jason Todd!  They were too busy arguing to notice the little spectator behind the garbage cans, the camera ready for use.

 Not that he would have risked revealing his position by taking a photograph at that moment ...
 Perhaps.

 Jason had several scratches on his face and looked worse from wear.  He growled, "You have no business in Bludheaven?"

 "Can't I come and visit my family?"

 "Fun.  I don't remember ever giving a damn about your family. "

 "This is unfair, Jaybird."

 "Fuck yourself!  I'm seventeen!  I'm not a fucking baby! "

 Dick opened his mouth to retort, but his eyes widened, "Shit."

 Above them, there was a huge winged lion, its fiery red wings looming menacingly in the Gotham night sky.

 It roared a sound that made his blood run cold.

 It was the scariest thing Tim had ever seen.  So, of course, he had to take a picture.

 Trying not to make noise and not get caught, the boy pulled the car out of the awkward position between his spleen and a garbage bag.

 Carefully he pointed the camera at the sky, checked that he still had the flash off, and clicked.

 Taking a photo of a creature out of a nightmare while hiding in a garbage can with the children of Gotham's richest man a few meters from him was in second place in the top ten of the strangest things that had happened to him.

 Tim was amazed that his stupidity apparently of him knew no bounds.

They will be such beautiful photos!

 "Dickhead, move!"

 Dick Greyson jumped, just before the monster pounced on him.  The snake tail snapped in the air, hissing at Jason.

 "Fuck. I hate Chimeras."

 "Jaybird, a little help?"

 "Ah, do you need me now?"

 "Could we not argue?!"

 Jason snorted but said nothing more.  A spear appeared in his hand.

 Tim's eyes widened, full of wonder.  It was so beautiful!

 Dick smirked, "You're a braggart."

 "Look who's talking!"

 "I have style, little brother."

 "Fuck you."

 Dick smiled mischievously, and with a flick of his wrist, he made a whip appear.

 Tim had to bite his lip because it was damn cool!

 The two brothers attacked the Chimera.  The younger tried to hurt her in the most sensitive points, such as the bare hips, the muzzle, or the skin of the wings, while DIck distracted her by cracking the whip.

 The Chimera roared and tried with its teeth to grab Jason, roaring in frustration at not being able to catch him.

 If Jason's attacks were a pure brute force, Dick looked like a bird in flight.

 He was graceful in his movements, compensating for the lack of strength with the speed with which he dodged attacks.

 All of his shots were aimed at keeping the Chimera away from Jason, drawing attention to him.

 "Stop being a martyr!"

 "Stop trying to get yourself killed!"

 "I'm not trying to get myself killed!"  Jason protested, narrowly avoiding being bitten by the serpentine tail.

 "You give this impression!"

 "You cannot..."

 He was distracted.  It was a mistake.

 Taking advantage of the moment of distraction, the Chimera puffed out his chest and vomited a burst of fire directed at Jason.

 This time the boy was not fast enough and the fire hit him in the shoulder.  The boy fell to the ground with a groan of pain, instinctively letting go of the spear.

 "Jason!"

 Dick was furious and wrapped the whip around the monster's throat.  The Chimera began to buck and wriggle, trying to free itself from the tightening grip that held it, but Dick did not move an inch.

 He won't make it, Tim thought in terror.  There was no way that a normal human being had the strength to throttle such a monster.  Bane didn't count, he could also be considered a monster on steroids.  Dick did, however, and the beast fell to the ground with a thud.

 The monster did not move, the serpentine tail no longer wiggled.  He was dead.

 Dick got off the Chimera and walked over to his brother, "Jaybird. Are you okay?"

 He was holding out his hand to help him up, but Jason ignored him and stood up alone, "I'm fine. I would have handled it myself."

 "You know, you don't have to do it all by yourself."

 "Tsk."

 "Your shoulder ..."

 "It'll heal," he just said, as Tim snapped another photograph.

 His hands trembled.  He couldn't wait to go home and develop the roll.  He didn't care that he missed the deal between Penguin and Two-Face.  That was much better.

 He held his breath when he noticed that Jason was looking in his direction.  He crouched as low as he could, praying he wouldn't get caught.

 "Jaybird, what is it?"

 Tim waited for the answer with bated breath.  Jason said, "Nothing. Just a feeling."

 He heard them arguing a little longer until their voices became more distant.  When he no longer heard their voices, Tim allowed himself to breathe again.

I have to go home.

His heart was pounding, he was a bundle of nerves. It took him some time to calm down, but as Tim felt more lucid, he blurted out, "There are superheroes in Gotham!"  

His mind had just found something new to obsess over.

Few of the gods voluntarily visited the halls of Hades' palace.  Hermes did it out of duty, and Apollo to see a lost love again.  Persephone for a mix of both.

 No one came without a purpose to the king of the underworld.  And when Athena came to him, Hades already knew what she wanted from him.

 “You shouldn't have come this far, Pallas.  I will not interfere in the affairs of Olympus. "

 "I know it."

 "Why are you here then?"

 "I need your help."

 The goddess took off her helmet, revealing a tired face and a worried look.  There was no swagger he was used to, no confidence in her abilities and her mind.

 Involuntarily, Hades quivered.  If even Athena was reduced to that, it meant that the situation was getting out of hand even for her.

 “There will be a war, Hades.  There are too many variables and I… I don't even know who the enemy will be, ”she admitted desolately, clutching her helmet.

 She was not used to uncertainty.  She always had everything under control.  She had to do it if she didn't want to be crushed by the other gods.  It was part of the reason why Ares had failed to strip her of the title of war goddess, and the reason why Zeus kept her close to him.

 It was a question of survival for her.

 "I can't give you the help you're looking for," he told her.  Unlike Poseidon and Zeus, he did not intrude on the domains of others.  The Underworld was affected by divine events, and he preferred that he remain so.

 "You can do it ..." 

"Master Bruce."

 Bruce blinked several times, his head feeling heavy.  He had fallen asleep in front of the computer and didn't even remember how. He was really tired. 

 Alfred was looking at him with mild disapproval.

 "Master Bruce, you fell asleep in the cave again," the butler said gently, as Bruce heard all the bones of his body scream for mercy.

 It had been a hard night.  He hadn't slept in days and his body had finally given way.

He rubbed his eyes, "I'm closer to the source of my power, Alfred. It's better than the alternative."

 "If you slept in a bed, I'd be happier."

 "There's the one in the medical wing."

 "Which you leave to the boys."

 "They need it too," he said defensively.  As if to underline his point, at that moment Dick arrived in the cave on a bike.  Behind him was Jason clinging, and his gaze immediately saw the blood.

 He panicked.  Not again, I can't do it again ...

 "Keep calm, old man," Jason told him, getting off the bike.

 "It's just a scratch."

 "Master Jason, we have different definitions of just a scratch."

 "I'm fine, and ..."

 "He's been hit by a Chimera," Dick cut him off, and Jason looked at him as if he had received the worst possible treatment.

 Alfred wasted no time and dragged both of them to the infirmary without saying a word.  There was no time to waste.  Bruce was about to follow when he heard someone throw the sleeve at him. It was Cassandra. He sighed. She wasn't in her room, and he knew what it mean. 

 "Cassandra ... did you go alone on patrol again?"  he asked the little girl.

 He couldn't get any of his children to listen to him, did he?

 Cassandra nodded and Bruce sighed. What was he doing wrong? 

"I don't need to tell you how incredibly inconsiderate you have been," Alfred said as he tended to Jason's shoulder. Dick had just finished reporting on how he thought the fight had gone.  In his humble opinion, he was exaggerating.  Jason wasn't an idiot, he knew what he was doing.  Most of the time.

He snorted but didn't reply. Alfred's reproaches had the rare ability to shame him. Even Bruce couldn't, even though it was his father.

(Uncle, actually, but he had been more of a father to Jason than Jason's poor biological dad excuse ever was. Both of them.)

Dick had his arms crossed over his chest, the whip hanging from his belt like a bad Indiana Jones imitation.

"Thanks for telling him, Alfred."

"We are gods. We should be fine."

Dick wrinkled his nose," You know it doesn't work like that."

Jason snorted," How could I forget it? What a shame."

"Jaybird..."

"Moreover, I didn't even need you. You distracted me."

"How can it be my fault ?!"

"You talk too much."

And you're distracting, he thought guiltily, trying to push inappropriate images of his brother out of his mind.

Fuck it, Ares. Keep your cock at bay.

He wasn't doing it very well, due to the hormones of adolescence. Being sixteen again sucked.

Dick was about to retort, but a little voice anticipated him, "You're back."

At the entrance to the infirmary, there was Damian, bare feet, and Alfred the cat next to him, the frowning expression that made him look like his father.

He tried to seem intimidating, a tough job for a kid in Captain America's pajamas and a teddy bear with him.  It was a surprise that Dick hadn't grabbed the child's cheeks and told him he was adorable.  The idiot would find anything adorable, even a baby hydra.

"Why are you awake, Dami?" Dick asked politely.

"I had a dream. "

"Oh…"

"I saw the Chimera."

"We took care of it," the major assured him, even though his voice trembled. He was nervous, and so was Jason.  Damian's dreams were usually bad news.  No one understood whether it was a gift of prophecy or omens of doom.  Jason opted for the latter.  However, Damian’s dreams had to be taken with a grain of salt and put everyone in agitation.  Last time, the brat had dreamed of Jason’s death.

The boy snoryouI know. You have been fooled. You let her slip away. "

"What do you know? "Jason growled, while at the same time Dick was saying," Who are you yoking about?”

“You are really stupid. Both of you. - Damian said with you with all the petulance of a four-year-old. - There was another person while you were fighting. She saw you and you didn't even notice. "

Jason held back a curse. He understood what the demon's brat meant.

Those who had seen them were not mortal.

Dick knelt to be level with Damian, and his hands on his shoulders, and asked, “ Dami, did you see who she was?"

The brat grimaced, “I don't know. She changed shape. First, she was an owl, then a woman..."

Figure if the brat's dreams could be more helpful. But Damian had said something important to him.

She was an owl. Well, shit.

Alfred and Jason looked at each other. It didn't take a genius to figure out.  They knew who had an owl as a sacred animal.

"We haven't seen her for centuries," the butler said, his expression perfectly neutral.

"Master Bruce believed that Zeus had thrown her into Tartarus."

“She was his favorite, “ Jason said, ignoring the irritation.  Most of the fault lay with Zeus.  She had seen an opening and used it.  He hadn't been smart enough.

"It didn't stop him from giving her to Enceladus, “ Alfred replied.

This worsened everyone's mood. Damian snapped, “So? Do you know who she is? "

"In a way…" Dick said hesitantly, not knowing how to explain it. 

"You have seen Athena, brat," Jason finally said, the only one who dared to say it aloud.

“We are here because of her. "

Damian wrinkled his nose, "Is she an enemy?"

Of course, he would have said so, given their situation. It was Dick who said, “No, she isn't. She is part of your family. And we will take her home. "

"What the ..."

 Tim narrowed his eyes, staring at the computer screen. Even such a dim light didn't explain how it was possible.

 The monster didn't appear in the photos.  Never.  There were about twenty photos of the fight, but no trace of the creature.  It looked like the Wayne brothers were engaging in an intricate dance with their weapons, and in a particularly beautiful one, they were fighting face to face, red and blue sparks around them.

 Tim frowned.

 He rubbed his eyes, and the result was the same.  No monster.

 He pursed his lips in a thin line, unable to contain the emotion he was feeling.  He should feel sorry.  He had risked a lot to take the photos.

 He didn't feel sorry.  On the contrary, what he was feeling was arousal.  His brain was in turmoil, fatigue forgotten.

He thought that a year of stalking Gotham's Rouges was enough to feel strong emotions. He was wrong.  That night had been a thousand times better!

 There were so many questions and no answers!  Where did the monsters come from?  How much did the Waynes know?  Above all, why had he never seen anything before tonight?

 There was a pattern underneath, and Tim had to be able to see it.  Later, though.

 Before there was another thing that was driving him crazy.
 

He would have to sleep at least two hours to be able to go to school.  Who needed sleep?  He had better things to do!

 School?  No problem.

 He won't go and will edit the logs online and no one will notice.  He had no friends who would notice his absence nor will he miss any interesting lessons.

 “I need to do some research and… maybe a panel or something.  Usually in movies, they do that. "

 He will find out what was going on.  And then… well, if he had to be honest, he had no idea what to do when all the pieces fell into place.  But he suspected it will take a long time to get to that point.

 He nodded, satisfied with his plan. He didn't know, but at that moment his eyes were shining silver.

There's no shame in loving life above death. Otherwise, I would be dead. What use would that be to the gods, who will not die themselves?

— Erica Jong