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English
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Part 5 of When life kills you, just don't die.
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Published:
2024-03-18
Completed:
2024-04-08
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4,302
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2/2
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Something's Rotting (It's Not My Corpse)

Summary:

After knowing of the Waynes' secret identities for a few weeks now, Danny finally gets to meet the infamous Jason Todd. However, there is one... offensive side effect of the Lazarus Pits that only affects any unlucky ghosts nearby.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Carrion Flower

Chapter Text

If Danny’s heart beat normally, it would be racing right now. Sitting at the ridiculously big dining table in the Wayne Manor, he picked at his food, appetite nonexistent. It wasn't that the food was bad! He'd joined the Bats for a family dinner twice before and loved it. Alfred made an especially mean roast; it was delicious and it didn't even move! He really thought Tim made up the fact that Dick broke a chandelier by swinging on it, but he honestly should’ve known better.

Anyways, this dinner was different. Bruce’s previously dead son, Jason Todd, would be finally joining them. In addition, Jason was the Red Hood: A full-on crime lord! And honestly? Danny respected him.

He didn’t know what his opinion of Red Hood would be if he never heard of him beforehand. Danny didn’t really like the idea of murder, but it did make him feel better to know that most people turned into ghosts. Ghosts loved to gossip and share their experiences, so first-hand and second-hand accounts of the Red Hood would often reach Danny’s ears.

He met ghosts of fathers and mothers weeping in relief after seeing that their remaining children had a place to eat because of the food shelters Red Hood set up in Crime Alley. Countless children told their stories to Danny, finally having the peace to explore the Infinite Realms, knowing that the Red Hood would protect their friends the best they could. 

Back when Red Hood was a new face in Crime Alley, a child drug-runner was shot in the head right in front of him. Red Hood didn’t even have time to react. 

The reason? 

The kid’s supplier miscalculated the package by a few ounces. 

No one made it out of that warehouse alive. Word spread.

Danny hugged the kid while he watched his mom mourn his death. (His shoulder was soaked with ectoplasm, but he didn’t mind at all.)

Surprisingly, Danny hadn't actually run into said crime-lord before, even after hanging out in Gotham for a while now. To put it bluntly, he didn’t like going into Crime Alley. Danny didn't want to be weird about the place, especially when Red Hood’s was working so hard on maintaining it, but sometimes he'd have a gut feeling shrieking at him to stay away; he tended to listen. Maybe Jason claimed it as his haunt? Did he even have a core? Danny mentally shook his head. He shouldn't jump to any conclusions without meeting Jason himself.

Alfred frowned at the dissected lasagna. “Master Danny, is the food not to your liking today? Shall I prepare something else for you?”

Danny waved his hand in denial. “No, no, it's fine!”

Alfred raised an eyebrow.

Danny winced. “Ah, no, really.” He looked down at his plate. “It’s nothing.”

“Would you like a cup of tea to help calm your nerves about meeting Master Jason?” 

Danny looked up in surprise. He looked over at Duke with a questioning look, but he just shrugged.

“I don’t know, man,” Duke said conspiratorially. “It's Alfred,” he added, as if that was an explanation. Maybe it was. Danny thought he caught the butler’s mouth twitching, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Well…” Danny hesitated, “Maybe some tea would help.”

Alfred nodded and left to boil some water.

“Don’t worry, Danny.” Dick grinned while building a tower of crab-stuffed mushrooms on his plate in a delicate balancing act. “As long as you don't insult his taste in literature, you'll be fine.” 

Across the table, Tim rolled his eyes. “He’s a dramatic scumbag that loves messing with people.” He casually pointed his fork at Danny. “I'm sure you two will get along fine.”

“Oh no.” Duke ran a hand down his face and groaned. “Imagine the death puns.”

Danny beamed. “He makes death puns too?” 

“Danny, do not even think about it.” Damian glared at him.

“Hey, just be glad that it’s only Jason and Danny, with how many of us have actually died.” Dick snickered.

That made a lot of sense. Well, no, it didn’t, but it explained why the feeling of death was so strong around them. Well, he didn’t really have room to judge. He and Dani didn’t have the best track record either, with the latter almost melting to her death. He guessed superheroes never really got to live mundane lives, but Jazz would have a field day if she ever met the Bats.

Damian didn't bother to dignify Dick with a response and, somehow, disdainfully scooped up more mushroom stew.

Danny ignored the screeching kettle in the background as he scrunched up his nose. Huh? What was that smell?

Did Alfred just fertilize the plants? It'd be kind of weird to do that just before dinnertime, though. But, no, it didn’t exactly smell like fertilizer. It was sort of, like, citric? But the gross kind. Acidic, acrid, whatever; that’s the word he was looking for. Like a science experiment gone horribly wrong, or a public bathroom without a janitor. Ew.

“Does anyone smell that?”

“Smell what?”

“Danny, you better not be swapping out your puns for fart jokes or something. I know you have more integrity than that.”

Alfred emerged from the kitchen holding a teacup on a small plate. “Master Danny, do you mean the smell of freshly brewed tea? Master Bruce purchased it during his latest mission abroad. Hopefully, it will be to your liking.”

“I-” Danny looked at the others in confusion. No one was visibly reacting to any kind of disgusting odor like he was. Maybe it was just the weird tea. “Um, nevermind. Thanks Alfred,” Danny said, taking the cup from Alfred and sniffing it. Puzzled looks were directed his way, but they soon moved on.

The smell didn’t seem to be coming from the tea. He took a tentative sip, taking another one after he found it had a pleasantly mellow taste. He wished that he could enjoy it without the fumes lingering in the air.

The door opened. He could feel his ghost sense, but it never made it out of his throat. He expected that it might be weird around Jason, but what he didn't expect was the repulsive smell in the air intensifying by ten times. He gagged. 

This couldn’t be happening. Danny had wanted to make sure to have such a good first impression too-! But, he couldn't even focus on that anymore as nausea rolled around in his stomach. Heavy-duty boots stepped into the foyer, making their way to the dining room.

Danny’s eyes were watering. He tried to take a sip of tea, but nothing could wash down the poison nestled in his throat. What triggered this torture, the rancid concoction that smelled like thousand-year moldy compost mixed with curdled milk, flushed with fully digested Taco Bell? 

He locked eyes with Jason Todd and promptly threw up. 

Chapter 2: Calla Lily

Chapter Text

A red motorcycle sped through Gotham roads. No matter what the family said, Jason was only visiting the manor to see Alfred. It had been way too long since he’d seen him, even though they called every other Friday. He worried about the frequency of his visits when he remembered Alfred’s age, but then questioned if he even aged at all. Maybe Alfred was the real vampire bat all along.

As for the new kid, he’d heard from Dick that he was real adoption bait: black hair and blue eyes. Bruce must have been disappointed when he snapped out of his adoption haze and realized the kid still had parents. He didn’t know if they were like Tim’s oh-so-wonderful parents, but no one mentioned anything, so he would happily assume they were doing the bare minimum for their kids. 

Wait. Wasn't Danny a ghost superhero? His hands squeezed tight around the handlebars as he made a sharp turn.

It's not like Bruce wasn't a bad parent either. Putting kids in suits and sending them out to fight murderers was never a good idea. He was living proof of that.

The only reason why Batman wasn't being locked up and thrown in prison was because if you got rid of all of Gotham’s Robins, you'd have no more vigilantes left. He always scoffed at the whole ‘Batman works alone’ thing. The old man couldn't even survive Jason's death without a thirteen year old balancing out his mental state. Pretty pathetic.

Whatever. He should move on. The Pit hadn't flared up in a while, but who knows what could set it off next? Last thing he wanted was to ruthlessly murder the next person who honked at him. Not like he would actually do it, but the Pit was very good at enabling intrusive thoughts.

Contrary to popular belief, he didn't enjoy it when he lashed out due to the Pit and left everyone bleeding out on the floor. (He often ended up with a throbbing temple, dizzy from the metallic smell of blood, ears ringing from the sound of gunshots, and a brown coat soaked red.)

That wasn't to say he regretted it, though.

Jason sped past a red stoplight. He was probably late by now, but who cared? Trafficked kids were more important than a meet-and-greet party, and blowing out the brains of those men had been satisfying. What wasn't great was the blood splatter. Well, he had to change into civvies anyways.

Watching the Manor fade into the foreground, Jason slowly pulled into the driveway that was nestled between two huge lawns in perfect condition. Alfred only settled for the best, after all.

He pulled out his key, tossed to him by Bruce during his last visit with no explanation. Jason inwardly knew it was his way of saying that ‘he was always welcome here and free to visit whenever. No, actually, please visit; he missed Jason,’ but in classic Bruce manners, he simply grunted, glared, and walked away. If he really wanted Jason to visit more often, why couldn’t he just say it? 

Jason sighed. He watched his breath dissipate into the air. Was it really that cold?

Alfred greeted him from the hallway as he pushed open the door. “Welcome back, Master Jason.”

He nodded. “It’s nice to see you again, Alfie.”

“I do trust that you haven't been away long enough that I must guide you to the dinner table?”

Jason grinned and settled into the comfortable banter. “It’s gonna take more than dying for me to forget that.” He wrapped his arms around Alfred. He missed this.

He heard the chatter of his siblings as he stepped into the dining room. He faintly remembered that the girls were on a mission, so he would have to cash in those ten plates of waffles next time. “Alright," he hollered, “Where’s the new adoption bait?”

His gaze wandered around the various heads in the room, before the one closest to him turned around to face him. A familiar set of glowing green eyes reflected back at him. Was this kid revived by the Pits?

He stepped forwards in hesitation, but the kid seemed kind of… out of it? Oh, come on, was he sick? He knew Alfred wouldn’t let him join dinner if he knew Danny had a fever. The last thing they needed was another kid with no self preservation instincts. And yes, he knew that applied to him.

He was quickly proven right as the kid proceeded to lurch forwards and vomit excessively—and he means excessively—onto Jason. He and Duke flinched back and swore. Dick, the dramatic he was, flipped into a handstand. The others pulled up their feet to avoid the flowing goo.  

Hold on, was the vomit glowing? Did this kid just vomit up Pit Water? 

“What's wrong with him?!”

“Oh dear.” Alfred promptly left the room, presumably to gather some cleaning supplies.

Tim tiredly looked at Damian. The latter scoffed. “I did not poison him.”

“Danny!” Duke rushed to grab him, but if it was really from the Lazarus Pits, it was fatal to perfectly alive humans. Jason, Tim, and Damian cried out in warning.

It sure was a good thing that Danny proceeded to slip just past Duke’s grasp by flying up and phasing through the ceiling. 

The family was left in the dining room, staring up aimlessly. 

Everyone averted their gaze from the ceiling to look at Jason oddly, giving each other nervous looks. They held defensive stances.

Jason couldn't blame their reaction, as much as it pained him to see that expression from Tim yet again. (He remembered standing there as blood dripped down his fist, Tim’s barely conscious groans the only sound piercing through the haunting silence. He'd broken his first rule. No kids.)

Ever since then, he made a conscious effort to subdue the Pit. He would still kill scumbags who deserved it, but he would make sure that it was him who was in control, not the Pit.

Come to think about it, when was the last time he felt such clarity with no hint of blind rage? Yes, he was still pissed that he was just thrown up on, but the anger wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as usual. If he got angry, even about the tiniest thing you could possibly imagine, the Pit would put it through a megaphone and blast it at ten times the volume. He had to wrangle it down to escape the feedback loop. Well, except when he didn’t want to.

He gave it a few moments, but the rage never came. All he was left with was confusion as he inspected his green hands. So were his family members, by the looks of it. They started to relax when they realized Jason was showing no signs of aggression. Bruce swiftly took a sample of the substance that glowed all over Jason and more than half of the dining room floor.

Someone had better explain. “What was that?”

Tim suddenly reached for his phone, pulling it out to check his notifications. “It’s Danny.”

“And?”

Tim opened his mouth then closed it again. He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked up at Jason. Oh, Tim was definitely trying not to laugh.

“Spit it out.”

“Uh, he says,” Tim coughs, clearly trying to cover up a laugh. “Um. Apparently you stink.”

Jason blinked. Took a deep breath. “Enough to throw up as soon as I enter the room?” His voice was drowned and waterboarded with incredulity. He made his way to the other side of the table with more weight in his steps than necessary. He’d just taken a shower to get rid of the blood. How could he possibly smell bad?

“Now he’s asking, uh,” Tim squinted at it. “Are…you angry?”

Jason wanted to roll his eyes. He scowled instead. “What? No, I'm not mad that I just got thrown up on. Why would you ask that?”

Tim winced. “No, like, that’s what he said. Are you feeling angry right now?”

“Yes,” he hissed. He'd just bought this shirt. The Pit Water dripping from it kept pooling around his feet, quickly invading even more sections of the dining room. “Not enough to murder anyone right now, though. Feels weird.”

Tim let his mouth hang open dramatically. “What? You mean you don’t feel like beating anyone up right now?”

“No, no. Give me a minute. I just need to let the homicidal urges kick in.” he said dryly, along with a pointed glare. Tim had the audacity to look fake-offended. 

Duke chimed in with a faux whisper. “As long as you don't murder me, Jason, I'll help you clean up the evidence.” The two grinned at each other conspiratorially.

“Duke, how could you?”

Damian abruptly stood from his seat. “Impossible. Nothing can neutralize the symptoms of the Lazarus Pits.”

“Just because Jason isn’t permanently angry like you, Damian, doesn’t mean that the vomit cured his Pit Rage.”

Jason swore again as a head popped out from the ceiling, black hair hanging in the air. “Actually, I think it did!” Danny turned his head left and right before taking a deep breath. He sighed in relief. “I can finally breathe again. Didn’t know that’s what the Pits did though, yikes.”

Danny slowly floated down and turned upright in the air, hovering just above the green Jell-O, face-to-face with Jason. “Ectoplasm deprivation can cause some really bad emotional rollercoasters. 0/10, do not recommend. Hopefully my ectoplasm should’ve made your core strong enough to repair itself. Sorry for, like, vomiting on you, though.” 

“You’ve experienced Pit symptoms?”

“Why’d you vomit all over Jason?”

“Why did you vomit all over me?”

“If you still feel ill, I would not mind watching Todd in anguish once more.” At Jason’s disappointment, Damian clicked his tongue at him. “Cease that look. Don't tell me the infamous Red Hood cannot take a joke?” Tch. The audacity of this brat.

Dick was smiling at Damian like a proud dad as Tim snickered. “It was pretty funny.”

Ugh. He was surrounded by morons.

Bruce only sighed at the managerie. “Why does Jason have ectoplasm deprivation?”

“He was revived by the Lazarus Pits, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“Well, the Lazarus Pits are basically composting ectoplasm. If that’s what brought him back to life, I can see why his core is so messed up. Ugh,” Danny scrunched up his face as he muttered, “I’m gonna have to clean those up later…”

“Core?” Duke questioned, “Like the glowing thing…” His voice trailed off.

“Yeah. In my chest. Jason has one too, but it's weak ‘cause it’s been trying to purify itself this whole time.”

Tim pointed an accusing finger at Duke. “So that's how you figured him out first! I knew there wasn't anything that I'd missed!”

Duke grinned back. “Yep.” He suddenly groaned. “Wait. So now there’s gonna be another flashlight walking around?” Duke put his face into his hands. 

Danny awkwardly patted his back. “Yeah… he won't be able to control how much he emits for now. It it's any consolation, he won't be nearly as bright as me. Probably.”

Wait, was he talking about Jason? “I’m a what?”

“A flashlight. Oh. Right. You don't know what that means. Uh…You’re a ghost! Congrats?”

“I prefer the term zombie, but I’m guessing this has some sort of significance?” Jason prodded, hoping Danny would actually explain.

Danny thought about it this time and asked, “Haven’t you noticed getting unnaturally stronger or more emotional after being alive again?”

He had. At first, he chalked it up as the change from lanky teen to an adult, but then he realized his punches hit way harder than humanly possible sometimes. He assumed it was Pit steroids. And for the emotional part… well. Jason hesitantly nodded.

“Well, that’s you using your ghost powers and stuff. And ghosts are, like, made of emotion. That’s how they’re formed. So, they’re pretty emotional. But if a core is super weak, it can go into overdrive ‘cause of ghostly survival instincts, and so do your emotions. Basically, it’s not a good time. It kinda overpowers your human half.”

Jason wished he could say he was speechless at this insane life-changing information. He'd gone through too much for that to be the case. “And how do I fix it?”

“Oh. I kind of already did?” Danny slowly looked around at the mess that Alfred was cleaning up with a shovel. They made eye contact as he made a you’re-helping-me-clean-this-up-later face and Danny grimaced. “Tim, remember the ecto-dejecto?”

“Yeah.”

“I think this is kinda like that. It's probably some sort of ghost instinct.”

“You think?”

Danny shrugged. “Well, I dunno. I’ve never met a halfa revived by the Lazarus Pit before.”

“I feel so comforted knowing how special I am.”

Jason crossed his arms as Tim exclaimed, “He’s a halfa?”

“Well…” Danny snuck a glance at Jason’s hair. “Probably? I mean, he’s dead and alive, has a core, got stronger and stuff… he basically meets all the criteria. All there is left is to do his magical girl transformation.”

Okay. Maybe there were still some things that could catch him off guard. “How do I do that?”

“I don't think you can do it yet. Your core needs time to recover. But after a while, maybe.”

Dick spoke with unrestrained glee about the one important thing in the conversation. “Jay’s a magical girl?”

Jason scoffed. “It’s on the to-do list, apparently.” Hmm. He already had the magical weapons.

Bruce looked up from Jason to Danny. “Does that mean Jason will develop the same abilities you have?”

“Uhh…My abilities…?” Danny started counting with his fingers, putting them up one by one. Did he just put up more than ten of them? Did he just give up counting? Bruce was working hard to maintain his stoic face, probably thinking of all the chaos that Jason could wreak as a ghost. “Uh, yeah, probably most of them. It’s hard to say, though. There's only like, two other halfas in the world aside from us two. Not a great sample size.”

“Nice. Guess Duke's not the only Bat with powers anymore.”

“Tt. Of course Todd copied me by acquiring powers after dying.”

Dick put his hand to his forehead, leaning backwards in his chair like some sickly Victorian child seeing an animal die. “I can't believe I've been left out. Where are my powers?” Somehow he didn't topple over and chuckled as Damian punched his arm.

“Tough luck, Damian,” Jason said with a smug grin, “mine are permanent.” He paused. “Wait, they are, right?”

“Yeah, your core should be stable now. There's a ton of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham. Your core just wasn't able to use it properly.” He hummed in thought. “Imagine an air filter trying to filter the air, except it's been soaked in a swamp filled with manure.” Finishing his metaphor, he grimaced again. Okay. Maybe Jason understood why he threw up. Was that stuff really inside him?

“So… that’s it? I’m good now?”

“Well, it’s probably a good idea to check in with Frostbite–that’s my yeti ghost doctor, by the way–and have him see your core. I’m not really an expert on ghost biology.” 

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Where is he located?” 

“Oh, he lives in the Far Frozen.” Duke pulled out his phone and started typing. “In the Infinite Realms.” Duke paused. “Which is basically another dimension.” He put his phone away.

Jason looked directly at Bruce who he knew very much did not want him to go to another dimension that he knew nothing about and shrugged. He turned back to Danny. “My Tuesday is free.” If Bruce didn't have the ability to control his heartbeat, his forehead veins would be bulging.

They were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Everyone looked at Alfred who had cleaned up a majority of the green, except around Jason, who was still dripping. Jason was unfortunately reminded of the green goop soaking his socks.

“Master Danny, if you would?” He motioned to the small film still coating the wooden floor making it glow slightly. “Regrettably, my usual cleaning agents have no effect on such ghostly substances. I ask that you clean it up before the floor gains some sort of sentience and consumes us all.” 

Jason's concern grew when Danny's eyes widened, and he nodded as he quickly flew over as if that was a real possibility. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course it was. 

The film disappeared and Danny took the chance to absorb the goop on Jason too. It detached itself from his clothes and floated into Danny's hand, melding with it. 

“Uh…thanks.”

Alfred nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Danny. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, it seems I have preparations to make for round two of dinner. I do hope that everyone,” glancing at Danny who smiled thankfully, “can enjoy the meal this time.” He made his way to the kitchen, stack of plates in hand. 

Everyone looked at each other for a moment, then quickly cleaned up the rest of the mess left on the dining table. Tim sorted the cutlery as Damian threw it at his head, and Dick bounded around the table, growing stacks of plates perfectly balanced in both palms. Danny went to go throw away the ecto-contaminated food, telling Duke about mashed potatoes attacking him or something.

Jason strode into the kitchen, finding Alfred setting out some vegetables onto the counter. "Need some help?"

"Why yes, an extra set of hands would be greatly appreciated. Why don't you chop up some of these carrots while I prepare the stew? I do hope you haven't let your knife skills rust."

"Don't worry," Jason chuckled, pulling out the knife from the holder. "I've been practicing. Wouldn't want to dishonor your name, Alfie."

Dishes clattered in the sink as Dick deposited them in. "Tim, Jay's cooking!"

Tim's head popped into sight from the kitchen as he leaned sideways. "Wait, really? Yummm."

"Yeah! Jay, please tell me you're going to make cookies again. Please. When you let me take home the ugly batch while making them for your goons, they were so good."

Another voice came from the dining room. "Tt. They were adequate." 

Dick quite literally jumped on Jason's back, keeping him in an amalgamation of a hug and a chokehold. "Please? My favoritest younger brother?"

"Get off me. And favoritest is not a word. Stop your mangling of the English language."

"It's not mangling if English's rules are already weird!"

"Ugh!" He tried to pull Dick off him, but he just crawled on him and held on tight like a spider. "Fine, stay there then." Jason simply continued to cut the carrots with a sloth hanging off of him. Dick snickered. Out of view, Jason smiled.

Maybe it was okay if he visited more often.

Notes:

Hi!! I hope you enjoyed my first fic! It's kinda scuffed, but I enjoyed writing it. If you guys have any constructive criticism, I'd appreciate it!