Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is a castle in the Dreaming. And in this castle there is a room full of books: a library. The master of this library is Lucien, the librarian. He knows each of these works by heart down to the last letter. In these sacred halls, the dear man works as instructed by his master, Dream of the Endless. And he enjoys his work because it gives him pleasure and satisfaction.

“Is that your voice, mister?”

Lucien spun around when he heard the little squeaky voice. Standing in front of him was probably the cutest six-year-old the world had ever seen. His hair was raven black, his eyes blue diamonds and he was missing a tooth.

“I'm not cute,” the child complained and pouted, which unfortunately only made him cuter.

“Why do I hear your voice inside my head?” the boy covered his ears.

“I'm the narrator,” Lucien pretended like it was a secret.

The little boy took his hands away from his ears and nodded as if it made sense.

“Can you tell something more exciting then.”

The librarian might have been miffed now if the boy hadn't put on puppy dog eyes in the same breath.

“Who are you, kid?” he asked, “Why aren't you in your dream?”

It happened from time to time - albeit very rarely - that a person strayed from their dream. Usually they were then quickly caught and led back to where they would wake up in a panic. However, no lost person had ever made it to the castle. Most of them lay down on the green meadows of Fiddler's Green and fiddled.

The child didn't look like he wanted to rest, the way he was climbing up the shelf.

Lucien was startled.

“Will you be careful?” he asked anxiously.

“Don't worry,” the boy shouted back enthusiastically, “It's a dream, so nothing can happen to me.”

“It can happen something to the books! Something horrible!” Lucien was astonished.

“What's all the shouting about?” asked Dream, who had just been in the throne room. His hair was night and his eyes were stars.

“My lord Morpheus,” Lucien breathed a sigh of relief, “a lost boy has strayed here.”

Dream looked surprised when his faithful servant brought him the news, but a glance upwards confirmed the librarian's statement.

“Funny mister in the black dress,” the boy waved, “Won't you come up and we can play together?”

And the master of the Dreaming had to smile when he saw the childlike mind.

“Richard John Grayson,” his whisper echoed throughout the room, “please come down there and join me for tea.”

The boy sulked, but did as he was told. It was an unwritten rule that children had to obey as soon as someone used their full name.

And at this point Lucien, the librarian, gave up the job of narrator, because the boy knocked over at least five shelves full of books that needed to be reorganized.

Dick looked at the cup in front of him suspiciously.

“This is a dream,” he complained, “so why am I being served leaf soup?”

The man in front of him didn't seem too impressed, but the drink turned into cocoa, which was drunk more enthusiastically almost immediately.

“When you've finished your beverage, I'll escort you back to your dream.”

The boy frowned, “That doesn't make sense. I'm already there.”

The man shook his head with a smile. “I'll put it simply: Your dream is like a play and right now we're backstage.”

The boy grinned. “I'm from the circus.”

Confused by the change of subject, Morpheus motioned for the boy to continue.

“I love it backstage just as much as I love the stage. So I don't understand why you want me back on stage.” He looked sadder now, too. “Especially since the dream wasn't pretty. I have a perfect life. Everything I could dream up is either terrifying or boring.”

Thinking, Morpheus nodded.

“It's not boring here?”

The boy shook his head, “Nop! There's a storyteller here; brothers arguing; a grumpy pumpkin head and a king who doesn't wear a crown at all.”

At the last one, Dick looked almost sadly at the man's black mop of hair.

The sandman had to smile. Whispering mysteriously, he leaned forward: “I'll let you in on a secret: the truly powerful never wear a crown. They don't flaunt their power because it only remains meaningful if you can't see it all the time.”

The boy thought for a moment and then nodded: “I see how people are amazed by my family, while it's normal for me. Is that it?”

The king nodded.

“Do I really have to go back to my dream?”

Yes, the Sandman wanted to say, but he couldn't. The boy had a look in his eyes that made the world fall at his feet. And Morpheus had to ask himself why the boy should not be given free passage. There was no rule that dreamers were not allowed to spend their time behind the scenes.

“On two conditions,” he relented, and Dick beamed and nodded eagerly.

“One, you must return to your dream as soon as I tell you to, so you can wake up.”

Again, Dick nodded as if that made sense. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“And second, you can't look into anyone else's dream. Dreams are private and not for your entertainment. It would be like reading someone's diary.”

Dick grimaced, “I would never do that!”

Morpheus smiled and laid a hand tenderly on his head. “So be it then that I give you my blessing to pass in the Dreaming as you please.”

Dick beamed.

Dick never stayed in his dream when he fell asleep. He much preferred to spend his time with Morpheus, Eve, Cain, Abel, Lucien, Matthew and all the other lovely characters who took him to their hearts as if he were an integral part of the dream-world.

Even the old curmudgeon Merv took a liking to the lad, although he would never admit it.

Naturally, the boy told his parents about his dreams and they nodded dutifully and listened to their child's colorful imagination.

“They don't believe me,” he sulked over his usual cup of cocoa with the king before he would make up.

“That would be rather strange too,” the man pointed out, “Believing you, would mean accepting all of this as true. Humanity is not capable of that. Now you're still a child, so they'll wave it off. As soon as an adult tries to convince another of the unbelievable truth, they'd put them in an asylum.”

“Adults are stupid,” Dick complained.

Morpheus sighed: “It's probably true that the dreams of children and adults are different. But here and there you find pearls in oysters. Men who fly through the clouds like Superman and women who create a paradise just to relax.”

What the man left out depressed Dick. “What about the children? Are there any exceptions for them?”

Morpheus nodded. “There are children who no longer dream of anything except reality because the world has taught them that fantasy and wishes don't pay off.”

Dick lowered the cake. Suddenly he was no longer hungry.

“Can't you just give them sweet dreams when their lives are already so hard?”

The man nodded: “In theory, I could. Practically, experience has shown that most children become addicted to dreams and sleep more than they live.”

The mood was as gloomy as the king's hair.

Morpheus sighed: “Speaking of life: Where is your circus at the moment?”

Dick just looked depressed. “In Gotham. I don't like it there. It's gloomy and dirty. But Haly says that this is where people need us. So that they can learn to laugh again. Our first performance is tomorrow.”

Dream nodded and accompanied the boy back to his dream, where he would wake up immediately.

Dick did not visit dreamland again for a whole week.

For the first time in ages, he dreamed again and couldn't free himself from it.

It always started the same way.

Mom. Dad. Laughter. A performance.

And then came the fall. Horror in her eyes as she realized the hard truth that there would be no net.

His parents lay lifeless in their own blood.

Dick would wake up and cry in an orphanage and continue to search for the killer. These dreams were torture because they were just a memory that he could not dismiss as unreal.

It got better when Bruce took him in. When Tony Zucco was caught. When Robin flew again.

Now the dreams weren't bad anymore and Dick had the chance to go to the dream realm. He just didn't use it. He was no longer an innocent child who trusted Dream. He had grown up overnight and knew that Morpheus seemed nice, but had made him suffer.

And in the depths of his kind heart, Dick couldn't bring himself to forgive Dream.

As soon as he realized this, Dick swore to himself that he would never enter the Dreaming again.

The day he first thought about breaking that promise was the day he met Jason Todd.

Jason Todd. His replacement. A little boy whose eyes had bags under them.

Dick didn't take kindly to Bruce and he could barely stand the sight of Jason in his Robin costume, but he had always had to help when someone needed help.

And Jason needed help and Dick could help.

“Why isn't he sleeping?” Dick asked, after the argument with Bruce had gone nowhere - Bruce still didn't see that he was an adult now and could and should make his own decisions.

His foster father blinked in confusion.

“Jason's asleep. Right now.”

Dick rolled his eyes: “That's what he looks like.”

Suddenly it was no longer Batman standing in front of him but Bruce, the father. He looked tired and old.

“Jason's been through a lot. Drug-addicted mother, violent father, cold nights on the street. I won't go into any more depth, but I think you'll agree that's quite a lot for a kid. I can't imagine him having pleasant dreams.”

Dick's expression became sympathetic. He knew nightmares, and he knew he could help Jason with them.

He would just have to break his promise.

Dick broke it the very next day. Jason had come to breakfast and had winced at every little movement Bruce made. As if he was expecting pain.

Dick looked at that and his mind was made up.

Fuck rules from heartless endless kings. He would take this into his own hands now.

He went to sleep at the same time as Jason.

He left his dream as quickly as possible and hurried. No doubt someone would notice his presence.

Dick didn't look for long, but let his instincts lead him to one of the bubbles nearby and jumped in.

Jason's dream consisted of dark figures cornering him.

“Leave me alone,” the boy crouched down. This wasn't Robin, who fought and took no shit. This was just a kid who felt he was helpless to do anything about his own dream.

But Dick wasn't helpless.

Nightwing got in front of Jason and the attackers and put them to flight with weapons that, by all logic, shouldn't have made contact with shadows. Fortunately, dreams didn't follow logic.

Arms wrapped around Dick's waist and a wet face pressed into his back.

“Don't leave me!”

Nightwing turned with difficulty and pulled the child into a hug.

“No way.”

The next day, Jason was friendlier to him. They actually talked to each other and for the first time Dick had the feeling that they were actually on the way to becoming brothers.

So he went back to the Dreaming that very evening to do the same thing again. Jason was a good kid. He deserved a dreamcatcher that actually worked.

Dream, the lord of all dreams, stood before him as he stepped into his realm and he did not look happy.

Morpheus held back for a long time. As long as it took them to get to the safe confines of the throne room.

“There were only two rules. Two!”

Dick could proudly say of himself that he had looked the worst scum of Gotham in the face and laughed. He was only slightly afraid. But here - in the Dreaming in the face of the Sandman - his knees suddenly went weak.

The black eyes were filled with anger and just a quick glance brought out shame and guilt in Dick.

“I told you other dreams were off limits!”

Dick nodded, but he was at a loss for words.

“Entering someone else's dream and changing it is...”

From then on, Dick stopped listening. Somehow this whole moralizing reminded him of Bruce and that wasn't fair. Dream had no right to act like his father!

“The least I ask is an apology!”

Dick looked up in surprise. That wasn't right either. Dream hadn't even asked him about his motives. For some unfathomable reason, that only made Dick angry and stung his tongue.

“Did it occur to you that I had a good reason?”

Dream, who had been pacing back and forth, turned to him sharply.

“What kind of reason would that be? What reason would be good enough to take advantage of my trust and kindness so shamelessly? I welcomed you into my realm and you brazenly used me for it.”

Dick laughed: “So that's how it is from your perspective? Me the bad guy and you the good guy?”

The shadows around the Lord of Dreams darkened dangerously.

“I shouldn't even let you finish,” came dangerously darkly from the Endless's lips, “Instead, I should deny you any access to the dreams, so that you are eternally awake.”

That sounded terrifying, and that was an understatement. Dick didn't want to imagine what life without dreams would be like. So he had to put everything on his secret weapon: his honesty.

“I just wanted my little brother to be safe, at least in his dreams. Because God only knows how unsafe his life has been so far.”

Dream paused.

“Jason Todd?” he asked.

Dick nodded. Of course Morpheus would know whe he meant. There wasn't a human he didn't know, because every human had to sleep. (He wondered if Superman slept too?)

Dream slowly lowered himself onto a step.

“I can understand the idea of wanting to protect your family.”

Dick listened up: “You have a family too?”

The man in front of him smiled: “I have six siblings.”

Dick sat down next to him. These were familiar waters, so he grinned. “I wish I had that many. I haven't known Jason long, but I wish I had more siblings right now.”

Dream laughed, “It's not all cotton candy. My sibling Desire alone is terrible with the jokes - the kind of jokes that break your heart. And Delight ... Delight is Delirium now and we don't know how that happened. Something probably broke her heart too.”

Dick listened intently with pity in his heart. That sounded terrible.

“So your reason is legitimate. Bad things can be done for family.”

Nightwing bit his tongue, because he couldn't understand what he was supposed to have done that was so bad. It wasn't that bad when you were chasing away nightmares.

Dream sighed heavily, “Just your siblings.”

“What?” blinked Dick.

“You're only allowed to visit your siblings in your dreams. I forbid and punish everything else.”

Dick beamed. So he would still be able to protect Jason. And any brothers and sisters who might still come.

“Thank you, Morpheus. Thank you.”

Dream scowled at him, “But keep my warning in mind: people who only dream nice things are unnatural. That could lead to unpleasant results.”

Dick nodded: “Good, I won't visit him every night.”

Again, he didn't understand what was wrong with that, but Morpheus was older and knew his way around better. Sometimes you just had to trust and not question. Besides, it would be enough if he helped Jason out from time to time. Before an important test, for example.

Full of zest for action, Dick returned to his own dream.

He then began to visit the Dreaming again. His old friends, who had indeed missed him and immediately recognized him as the little boy he had once been.

Dick felt whole again. He had missed this part of his life, even if he only really realized it now.

He was also able to travel to the Dreaming while in space. It made him feel connected to his family.

A month into the mission, he couldn't find Jason's dream bubble and the shock hit him so hard that he woke up screaming.

Chapter Text

When Jason saw her for the first time, she was standing next to Bill, the neighbor who had fallen off the roof yesterday. Maybe he had been pushed. It was impossible to tell.

If his parents had been awake, they would have pulled Jason away from the window. But as it was, the four-year-old had a good view of the body.

And of her.

The woman was dressed in black and wore a silver necklace with a symbol that he would recognize years later in the library as an anch. Her hair was so dark that it couldn't be dye. But when she looked up, her eyes were loving and considerate. Jason should probably have hidden, but instead he smiled and raised his hand in greeting.

The woman did the same and disappeared shortly afterwards.

He might have been disappointed if he hadn't had the feeling that he would see her again.

And he saw her again.

Crime Alley was not a place where one could escape death. It was omnipresent. And she always gave him a smile.

However, Jason quickly realized that no one else noticed her.

“The woman in black,” he would say to various people, and each of them would dismiss it as a figment of his imagination. It was only when his father threatened to drag him to Arkham if he didn't stop this nonsense that Jason gave up any attempt to convince others of her existence. They would all meet Death far too soon.

The thing was, she never seemed cruel to him. Yes, people died. But she was so kind—so loving—at work that he would have characterized her as a typical mother figure if she had been a character in a novel.

That image changed when his father stole two tickets to the circus. Jason was always cautious around Willis, but the magic of the ring quickly made him forget everything.

Tightrope walkers and weightlifters. Horses and lions jumping through burning hoops.

And then the Flying Graysons were announced, and Jason forgot to breathe. The boy could only have been a few years older, but he flew. Like a bird. Together with his parents. It was pure magic, and Jason was so captivated that he didn't notice Death until she sat down next to him.

“You might want to close your eyes now. I can hardly bear to watch.”

How could he look away from such a sight?

But he did, because if Death—who sees tragedy day in and day out—couldn't bear something, then it must be bad.

He closed his eyes and heard horrified screams above the loud music.

When he opened his eyes again, Death was standing next to the bodies of two of the Flying Graysons. The third member was staring down at the bodies of his parents from above, and Jason couldn't help but despise Death for the first time. The feeling was only brief and lasted only a few weeks, but the bitter aftertaste remained with him for the rest of his life. He would never forget that day: the day Death didn't smile.

He continued to see her. It was Crime Alley, so he continued to see her.

When he came home to see her in his apartment, he was almost happy.

“Are you coming to visit me?” he asked.

Perhaps now she would really try to become his friend instead of the acquaintance who was always smiling at him. He could use some friends. His father was in prison and his mother was present, but only physically. Company, no matter from whom, would dispel the loneliness. And the woman in black was nice, she would surely play with him!

The woman in black stepped in front of him and knelt down.

Her eyes were still loving up close, but she wasn't smiling. And there was something else. Pity surrounded her like a jacket.

“I'm sorry, Jason,” she said.

“Are you here to take me away?” he asked, but he felt no fear.

The fear only came when she shook her head sadly.

His eyes widened.

“Mom!” he shouted into the apartment, but there was no answer. That was no cause for concern; his mother often slept deeply.

He tried to walk past the woman, but she gently held his shoulders.

“No,” she said, “you don't have to see this.”

“I have to help her!” Jason replied firmly. Tears ran down his face. Surely the woman had to understand that, didn't she? His mother was there and she needed him.

The woman took him in her arms: “There's nothing more you can do for her, little one.”

Jason forgot how to breathe for a moment. But then he became angry. Raging fury coursed through him, and he pushed the woman away and struck her.

“Bring her back! Give her back to me!”

He knew he wasn't hurting her because she didn't even flinch, but it made him feel better. He could still convince her. He could...

“Go to your neighbors. Tell them your mother won't wake up,” the woman said softly in his ear.

He heard wings flapping, and when he looked up, she was gone.

The months that followed were difficult, and every time Jason encountered the woman on the street, he would turn around and walk away. She continued to smile at him, but he wanted nothing to do with the woman who had taken his mother away from him.

And after that, it got even harder. The streets were cold and his stomach was almost always empty. Now, when he saw the woman, he feared for his own life. Because he knew that when his time came, she would take him away without mercy. No matter how old he was. No matter whether she might have liked him. It was her duty, and she was definitely not corrupt.

So now he avoided her completely.

And then Jason made the foolish decision to steal from Batman and was rewarded with a new life. A carefree one.

And even though he sometimes shied away from Bruce or drove Dick to insanity, he had a home. He had Alfred. And he was Robin!

The love of his family gradually dispelled any thoughts of the woman in black.

But he wouldn't be Jason Todd if the universe let him be.

He had been granted two years and nine months of happiness.

And then Garzonas came along.

That bastard was everything Jason hated about humanity.

And after Gloria... after Gloria, Jason was furious.

So he marched over to the man to inflict pain on him.

Garzonas was so frightened by his presence alone that he fell over the balcony. Jason's first impulse was to catch him. But there she was again. The woman in black. She was standing on the street looking up. You didn't have to be a genius to understand who she was waiting for.

So Jason did nothing and stood still. He watched as the man fell to his certain death. And he deserved it. That was justice!

“What have you done?”

Jason spun around and looked up at Batman. The man stared at him as if he were a monster... no, a murderer.

“Nothing,” Jason frowned, “He wasn't paying attention. He fell over the railing. I couldn't save him!”

“You could have tried!”

“No,” Jason shook his head.

Batman's expression became stone-cold. The kind of expression he used for interrogations.

“No, you couldn't, or no, you didn't want to.”

And Jason did something stupid. He trusted Bruce. Loved him like a father. And for the first time since childhood, he shared his gift with someone else.

“I can see the Grim Reaper,” he said, raising his head, “since I was a child, B. She was standing in the street. His time had come. No one could have saved him.”

Batman said nothing. He didn't contradict him and listened to His Story of the woman in black. Jason was relieved. Bruce believed him.

But he was only fooling himself, as he later had to hear.

He had only wanted to get a glass of water, but had stopped in the hallway when he heard Bruce talking to Alfred.

“I don't know what to do,” Bruce sounded tired, "He has no Metagen and Zatanna said she couldn't sense any magical abilities in him either. So either he's lying to me or he has delusions. Given his childhood, that wouldn't be surprising. But if that's the case, then I have to find him a therapist. Arkham might have some who can work with children."

Jason didn't wait for Alfred's reply. He ran upstairs, grabbed his bag, and disappeared from the manor.

He had no other choice. Willis had warned him. Tell anyone you see the woman in black and you'll end up in Arkham. The fear was so strong that it wasn't until an hour later, inside his old apartment, that Jason felt the betrayal. He had trusted Bruce, and Bruce had tested him because he didn't believe him. They had been partners, but apparently that too had been just a sweet lie.

So when he found his birth certificate, he didn't waste a thought on the father who had betrayed him, but set off to find her.

... However, Dick hadn't done anything wrong, and if Jason explained the situation to him, his brother would even help him, right? The boy briefly debated with himself whether it was worth the risk of being disappointed again before finally picking up his cell phone and simply calling Dick.

He only got his voicemail, but looking at the clock, that was no surprise; he was probably on patrol. Jason would just leave a message, get on the plane, and by the time it landed, Dick would probably have left fifteen messages on his cell phone.

“Hey, Dick,” Jason said, feigning cheerfulness and suppressing his tears, “A lot has happened. Bruce thinks I killed someone—which I didn't—and thinks I'm crazy—which I'm not. I just see this woman in black, the grim reaper, but he doesn't believe me.”

Now his voice sounded watery after all.

“Anyway, I ran away and now I'm on my way to my mother's. Turns out my mom wasn't my biological mother. So I still have blood relatives! By the time you hear this, I'll be halfway to Ethiopia, but don't worry, I'll call when I find her.”

“Your message has been saved.”

Jason smiled contentedly and set off. If only he had known what was waiting for him on the other side of the world.

Jason blinked. He had drifted off for a moment.

No wonder, given the shock.

Joker. Crowbar. Bomb.

Bomb!

Jason crawled over to his mother to remove her restraints. He would get her out of here. Under his watch, another mother of his would not die.

They ran to the door.

“It's locked,” his mother cried out in panic.

The bomb exploded.

When Jason could finally see again, he saw the woman in black kneeling over him and finally recognized her. She was not a grim reaper, but Death itself.

“You can't steal my mother from me again,” he gasped weakly.

Death smiled sadly and held out her hand to him: “I'm here because of you, Jason.”

Oh. That made sense. Jason had always felt that Death would find him early. However, he had no desire whatsoever to take her hand.

“I have to make amends with Bruce. He has no idea where I am.”

Death held out her hand and Jason saw Batman rummaging through the remains of the warehouse, frantically calling for Jason.

“I'm here!” Jason called back.

“He can't hear you,” Death said gently.

Jason looked down. He was standing next to his lifeless body and could see exactly what the clown had done to him. He was barely recognizable.

“This will break his heart,” he said weakly.

Death nodded, but still held out her hand to him.

“Let's go.”

He wanted to argue, but Batman was getting closer and closer, and he was suddenly very afraid of how Batman would react. Maybe his dad was even relieved? But no, then he wouldn't have followed him! Still... Jason didn't want to be disappointed again.

He took her hand, and it was surprisingly warm.

Death smiled, and her wings were beautiful as they carried him away.

Jason had been wrong.

Death was dutiful, but she also made exceptions.

For the next few months, he accompanied her on her missions instead of going to heaven or hell.

“Shouldn't I be moving on?” he asked her.

She just smiled: “I like your company.”

He shrugged: “You're okay too.”

It was strange. All you had to do was die to be forgiven by her. This woman was just too kind. She even accompanied a deceased sexist into the next life with a smile, and he had used swear words that would have gotten Jason expelled from school.

But eventually, that time came to an end.

“Jason,” Death said seriously.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to come back to life?”

“Like a zombie or a vampire?” He didn't really understand the question. After all, people didn't come back to life.

Death laughed: “Neither. I just thought I could simply... let you go. Until you die again. Would you like that?”

Jason swallowed: “So I could see Dick and Bruce and Alfred again?”

The woman frowned: “That's how I imagine it. But I have to admit, I don't know what will happen. I've never done it before.”

Jason shrugged: “There's a first time for everything, and it's worth the risk.”

Death smiled sadly: “Will you hate me again when I geht you the second time?”

Jason thought for a moment, then shook his head: “No. I don't think anyone could really hate you. You're too friendly for that. You remind me of Dick in that way. He's always smiling too.”

Death laughed.

“Goodbye,” she said, and Jason laughed. What a fitting farewell.

The images after that were blurry.

Coffin.

Training.

Water.

Green.

And then Talia al Ghul had pushed him off a cliff. That was his first clear memory, and only the cold water prevented him from rushing into a fight with the woman in anger.

Instead, he found a hotel room and looked at the bag.

A picture of a new Robin made the world green again, until he finally lost consciousness in a demolished room.

The dream was beautiful. He was lying in a field of flowers. Jason knew it was a dream because he had never seen such a place before. There was a park in Gotham, but anyone who thought it was green had probably never read Poison Ivy's letters of complaint to the city council (she hadn't written the letter, she had recited it, but someone else had written it down).

If Jason was honest, he wanted to stay here. There didn't seem to be any problems here.

“Jason?” Dick gasped.

He looked up and saw his brother, who looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

Jason smiled at his brother: “The dreams are always the best when you show up.”

He couldn't remember a single dream in which Dick hadn't protected him or encouraged him to go on a fun adventure.

“It's really you,” Dick rushed toward him and pulled him into a strong embrace.

Jason laughed: “This is my dream, Dickie, shouldn't you know that I'm really me?”

Dick just cried harder and pressed Jason even more tightly to his chest. It was almost as if he was afraid that Jason would disappear again.

“How is that possible?” Dick asked, confused. “You died.”

Jason shrugged: “Death let me go. She seems to like me.”

“Death?” Dick frowned. “Dream's older sister?”

Jason nodded. Death had talked a lot about her siblings, which was fine, because Jason had also talked about his family at length. Perhaps that was why Death had let him go.

Dick laughed. “Just tell me where you are. I'll pick you up and take you home.”

Jason frowned: “When I wake up, you won't exist anymore.”

Dick shook his head in annoyance: “No. I am me. Dream just allows me to visit you in your dreams.”

Okay. That sounded crazy. Jason didn't believe a word of it. But if it was true, then... Dick was a stalker, but he could also take him home.

So he gave him his address.

Dick nodded determinedly and was about to leave.

“Dick,” Jason held him back briefly, “If all this is true, then as soon as I wake up, we're going to talk about the little word ‘privacy.’”

Dick's cheeks turned red. Then he was gone.

Jason leaned back and enjoyed the sun.

He woke up.

Dick wasn't there.

He waited half a day, and then his big brother arrived.

Oh, they would definitely talk about privacy.

Chapter Text

Tim thought it were only stories.

He listened to stories about parents who loved and cared for their children and wanted them. Mrs. Mac read them so bored that Tim knew they could only be fairy tales.

Tim loved these stories nonetheless. Probably because they symbolized everything he wanted.

When he was really lucky, he even dreamed of his parents doing the same things with him as the parents in the books did. Going to the park for ice cream and beach vacations to spend time together.

Waking up was almost bitter, but he was a big boy. He knew dreams were dreams because they were fantasy and not reality.

That made it all the more difficult when Tim started school and realized that these stories weren't just stories.

These stories were a reflection of reality. Just not his.

Tommy's parents always came ten minutes early to pick him up because they were afraid he would have to wait for them.

Annabeth's mother packed her a little surprise every day to give her something to look forward to.

Paul's father took Paul on the craziest adventures, which Paul always loved to talk about.

Tim was bitterly aware that all parents loved, liked and wanted their children.

Only his parents didn't love, like or want Tim.

Now other children would have tried hard to earn love.

But Tim had done nothing else in recent years but be the perfect son.

He had to find other ways.

His path led him to the Gotham City Library.

Methodically, he selected the most appealing novels on the subject of “love” from every genre: nonfiction, sci-fi, fairy tales and legends, fantasy, romance, and even cookbooks.

He quickly gave up on the cookbooks and romance novels. Romance never referred to the love between parents and their children, because most of the protagonists only had children in the epilogue and were always happy with them. None of the authors bothered to write about why the parents were happy with their children.

The cookbooks offered the chance that love went through the stomach.

His parents didn't even notice that he had cooked the food and not the housekeeper.

So no. Cookbooks were also just a waste of time.

Unfortunately, the non-fiction books advised expectant parents rather than children. They told them that the bond with the child was not automatic and would come in time. They gave them tips.
Tim couldn't imagine his parents taking it positively if he gave them such a book for their next birthday.

A sci-fi book was about to help because it contained a device that could awaken love. Tim was disappointed because, unfortunately, no instructions for building it were included, and he could also conclude from the novel that it was about love that always led to sex, which he personally considered morally wrong. The protagonists in the book didn't seem to mind. Tim was about to make it unreadable with water, but he didn't want to flee the library.

In the end, all he had left were fairy tales and legends.

There were many gods and goddesses, magical beings, and witches who were said to have the ability to help with his problem.

But what ultimately captivated Tim was a note in the margin of a legend.

The legend was about a woman who could no longer love since death had taken her husband. But then she met a man with golden eyes, and he gave her pleasure and a child. The legend continued because it was about the child.

Tim didn't read any further.

Someone had circled “man with golden eyes” and written “Desire” next to it.

Tim didn't know why, but he felt certain that he had found his solution.

Finding a ritual that would attract Desire was much more difficult.

Tim tried a prayer, but it had no effect.

It probably wasn't very smart to wander the streets of Gotham alone as a teenager, but no matter how careless his parents were, they would notice if he didn't come home after school.

So Tim sneaked out at night to find a shop that a few mystical forums on the internet had mentioned.

The shop had no name, but the owner was known as Madame Xanadu.

It was small and located in one of Gotham's darker alleys. Nothing on the door indicated that there was a shop behind it and not an apartment.

Tim didn't have to knock because the door was open.

He hesitantly entered.

“You're late,” a woman called out, “Knock the dust off your shoes and close the door behind you.”

Tim did as he was told and stepped into a small room decorated with many crystals.

There were two teacups on a small table in the middle.

The woman sitting on one of the chairs looked as if she was about to go to a festive event. In other words, she was very pretty.

“If you had come on time, your tea would still be hot.”

“Very kind of you,” replied Tim, who was so shocked that he could only fall back on his manners, “I'll drink it cold.”

The woman smiled: “I am Madame Xanadu, and you must be the young traveler my cards promised me.”

“I suppose so,” replied Tim, who drank the tea as promised, even though he didn't like it.

“The cards wouldn't reveal what you're looking for. It's rare for them to refuse me an answer.”

Tim put down the empty cup and leaned forward: “I'm looking for Desire. Or the man with the golden eyes. Unfortunately, I don't have another name.”

Xanadu's smile slipped: “Desire, then. That's a dangerous name, my boy. Are you sure you want to incur their wrath in the worst case scenario?”

Tim couldn't imagine that he could make Desire any angrier. If Desire liked him, his parents would ultimately like him too.

Xanadu sighed: “I'll give you a simple ritual. If that doesn't work, you should give up. Anything beyond that would not be a polite invitation, but coercion. The Endless don't like it when you force them to do something.”

“I understand,” Tim said, even though he didn't understand anything. He only heard that he was getting what he wanted.

Xanadu took a piece of paper and wrote down as she read aloud: "An old desire, a current desire, and a future desire. Light a fire with three matches at three o'clock (in the morning or evening) and burn a symbol of an old desire, a current desire, and a desire you wish for in the future. Then say Desire's name three times. If Desire appears, everything is fine. If not, don't forget to put out the fire. Otherwise, the fire department will be very happy to visit you."

Tim reverently accepted the piece of paper.

“Thank you very much.”

He reached for his wallet.

Xanadu shook her head: “Just do me a favor and take care of yourself. The world is a cruel place for a little boy who plays with fire.”

Tim couldn't help but smile.

At least the world was exciting.

It was easy to find a day when his parents would Not be home and he could comfortably light a fire in the fireplace at three in the morning.

It was less easy to find the ingredients.

In the end, Tim took the three things that felt right.

He lit a fire at three in the morning with three matches and threw his homemade wooden sword into it first. It was from the time when he wanted to become a knight. That desire quickly faded because his mother had nipped it in the bud. In her opinion, only savages played in the forest, and good sons should take their piano lessons seriously.

Next, he threw his favorite story into the fire. In this book, the parents did everything they could to show their son how much they loved him.

The third item had been the hardest. How could Tim know what he might desire in the future when his current desire overshadowed all his other wishes? Finally, he threw an empty diary into the fire. At some point in his life, he would surely want free time. It wasn't particularly creative, but he hoped Desire would understand.

“Desire. Desire. Desire,” he whispered, even though he was alone, “I'm standing here and I need you. Please help me.”

Nothing happened. Tim turned around once, but nothing had changed. He stared into the flames as if they knew the answer.

“Hello, Timothy,” said an almost affectionate voice behind him.

He spun around. Desire was sitting on the sofa. Desire was wearing glasses, a shirt, and a sleeveless sweater with an Argyll pattern and a large neckline. The pants were long and brown.

Desire looked like a parent.

Tim couldn't tell their gender, but instinctively knew it was because Desire was every gender.

“You came,” he couldn't believe it.

Desire grinned and leaned forward: “Of course. Why wouldn't I? It's not often that someone belongs to my realm as much as you do. One might almost think that you consist solely of desire.”

Tim looked at the floor: “I'm sorry.” He hadn't meant to be greedy.

Desire laughed, and it was a laugh that filled the whole room.

“But no, please. People who don't admit their desires end up like my big brother. With a stick so far up their ass that they can taste it.”

No one spoke like that in Tim's presence. It was offensive. It was interesting.

“Does that mean you'll help me?” he asked hopefully.

Desire took off their glasses and threw them into the fire. The fire seemed to draw Desire to it.

“It's not that simple, Timothy.”

“Tim.”

“Tim,” Desire nodded and looked at him with golden eyes, “I can make your parents suddenly become parents who actually love their child. However, I can't make you forget about our deal. So you should ask yourself if you can live with that.”

Tim frowned: “Would that be difficult?”

Desire shrugged: “I could make my big brother show me affection and stop despising me. He would probably see through it, but even if he didn't, I would always know that it was a lie of my own making. I'd rather take the truth and plan my revenge.”

That wasn't what Tim wanted. He didn't want revenge, he wanted love.

But the thought that he would only get it by cheating... Tim thought about how he had wanted to be a knight, a protector. The boy was still inside him. He couldn't live a lie his whole life.

Desire sighed and stood up. Hands rested on his shoulders and Desire leaned forward so that Tim could only see these golden eyes.

“I see you understand, my dear child. Let me give you another gift.”

Tim frowned: “A gift?”

Desire nodded: “It would be very rude to refuse.”

Tim understood. Desire didn't want him to refuse, and he had a feeling that Desire always got what they wanted.

“Very kind,” he replied.

Desire kissed him on the forehead, on his right eye, and on his left eye. Tim sensed that something had changed. He couldn't put it into words.

“What did you do?”

Desire went to the fire and poked around in it with the poker.

Tim could see that Desire wished they hadn't thrown the glasses in.

“You want your glasses back?” he asked.

Desire looked up at him and the mischievous grin was back: “I crave them.”

Tim frowned.

“It's my gift, Tim,” Desire murmured and took out the glasses. They were completely destroyed.

“Wherever you go, you will always see what people crave. Their deepest and darkest desires, as well as their superficial ones. You will be closer to my realm than any mortal has ever been. Look at their desires, Tim, and use them to your advantage.”

Desire disappeared. The fire was out and the ashes were gone.

Tim stared into the fireplace for a long time.

He had burned an offering and received a gift.

Tim wasn't sure if it would turn out to be a curse instead.

It was easier to please people with his gift.

Tim learned that although his parents demanded certain things, they wanted many other things that he could never have imagined because they had never been put into words.

For example, his mother demanded that he always be neatly dressed, but she preferred certain items of clothing.

For example, his father demanded that he get good grades, but he paid special attention to sports and math.

It was so much easier to make his parents happy. Tim finally knew that he had constantly disappointed them with little things without knowing it. Of course, they couldn't love him that way.

Now, at last, he could be the perfect son.

It didn't change the fact that they didn't love him.

Tim couldn't fool himself anymore. He had to accept that his parents would never love him.

Out of habit and to be left alone, he still tried hard to be a good son.

During the day.

At night, he would sneak into the city and watch Batman and Robin. Sometimes even Nightwing.

Whenever he saw them, Robin glowed with the urge to help. That was all. Robin didn't want anything more.

Tim loved Robin for that and wanted to be like him.

He wanted to protect people too. It was a much nicer desire than being loved.

Tim couldn't see his own desire, but he wasn't fooling himself. He would never be a hero like Robin. He was too selfish for that.

He watched Robin and found the only happiness in his life in doing so. If there was someone as good as Robin, then the world was okay.

The world was not okay.

Tim realized it immediately when his whole world fell apart.

Batman wanted revenge, pain, and above all, his Robin back.

Tim collapsed on the roof and sobbed. He wanted Robin back too.

After months of no improvement, Tim decided he had to do something. He had to become the hero he had always wanted to be.

That's what Robin would have wanted, that's what Jason would have wanted.

After all, Jason had only wanted to help, so he would have been okay with Tim now helping his mentor and his city.

At least that's what Tim tried to tell himself as he drove to Wayne Manor after being rejected by Nightwing.

It didn't take long for him to become Robin. Batman probably subconsciously realized that he had gone too far already and needed help to control himself.

Tim loved being Robin. He felt free and good. He helped people who wanted nothing more than to live their lives. Being Robin was fantastic, but it also had its downsides.

Tim could see clearly that Bruce and Dick only wanted Jason back. This desire flared up every time they looked at him.

Batman apologized every time he accidentally called Tim by the wrong name. It made no difference. Even without these mistakes, Tim realized that he was just a replacement.

But since Jason wasn't coming back, Tim tried to make the best of the situation.

It wasn't much different from his previous life.

Instead of his parents, he now also made Batman and Nightwing happy. The only difference was that he indulged his own secret desire and was Robin.

He could accept that.

...most of the time, anyway.

The first anniversary of Jason's death was the worst day in a long time.

Batman ignored him and went on patrol alone.

Nightwing didn't answer his phone.

Tim's parents hadn't been in touch for months.

And Tim felt more alone than he had in a long time when he thought about how Jason would hate him. After all, he was a selfish asshole that no one loved.

Tim rarely indulged in self-pity, but now it felt like he had set off an avalanche and was being buried under the feeling.

In hindsight, he would admit that it wasn't a good idea to shout “Fuck you, Desire” in the quiet house.

It caused a hand to close around his throat while the other arm pulled him against a chest.

“That's no way to talk about someone who gave you a precious gift.”

“Gifts can be refused,” Tim hissed, “This is a curse.”

Desire pushed him away and Tim turned to strike.

He didn't strike because Desire still looked like the perfect parent and there was something in those golden eyes. It was probably his imagination, but for the first time, Tim saw affection for himself and not for the dead Robin.

“It's a gift. If you don't use it properly, that's not my problem.”

Tim wanted to snort angrily, but it sounded more like a sob.

“Nobody wants me. I know what everyone wants, and I can give it to them, but they still don't want me. How could anyone use this knowledge properly?”

Desire looked amused and sympathetic at the same time and pulled Tim into a hug.

“My poor Timmy. You're still wasting your energy on people even though you can see that they'll never give you what you want.”

Now Tim was actually crying.

“People who don't want you aren't worth your affection. Give them up.”

Tim didn't know if Desire was right, but one thing was clear to him. He would never give up on Robin.

“You don't have to,” Desire said, reading his thoughts or rather his desire, “You just have to stop constantly changing yourself just so that others can get something they don't deserve.”

Desire disappeared as quickly as they had come, but at least not before Tim's tears had dried.

The irony was that as soon as Tim stopped being the perfect Robin and son, things actually changed for the better.

Batman was more annoyed and his parents talked to him even less, but Dick developed another desire.

When he looked at Tim now, he still wanted Jason back, but that was slowly being overshadowed by another desire.

Dick wanted to be a good big brother.

It made Tim happy because, for the first time ever, someone was voluntarily spending time with him. Dick even enjoyed listening to him.

Of course, Tim knew that Dick was doing it because he wanted to be a good brother, not because Tim meant anything to him.

But it was still nice. And it was better than before.

Sometimes Tim even felt like he had a Nightwing in his head protecting him from nightmares.

Tim could really get used to the idea of someone spending time with him without really liking him.

That was before he met Kon-El for the first time, though.

When someone wanted Tim for the first time, desired him, it was like a slap in the face.

There stood Conner, the most beautiful creature Tim had ever seen.

And he wanted him! Conner wanted Tim.

He was surrounded by such a strong desire that Tim wondered why Conner didn't just kiss him.

Tim did the only logical thing at that moment. He threw a rock at Conner and ran away.

He ran as far as he could and then called out for Desire.

Perhaps Desire was feeling particularly gracious or bored that day, because for once Tim didn't have to wait.

“You sound upset, little prince,” Desire purred.

This time, Desire was wearing a neon Superman T-shirt. It wasn't even Desires usual style, which is why Tim knew he was being messed with.

“Did you set this up?” he asked, concerned.

No one had ever wanted him from the start. It was a rule of the universe. It was impossible. But not for Desire. If Desire wanted it, the rules bent.

Maybe Conner's love was just another gift from Desire that Tim couldn't handle.

Desire's expression changed. The smile disappeared, leaving only honest pity.

“No. It was meant to be from the beginning. I'm just doing my duty here.”

Tim staggered and sank to the floor.

“That can't be true,” he whispered, more to himself than to Desire.

Desire laughed, but it was a mixture of anger, sadness, and joy.

“Every person wants something, and in return, something wants that person. It's a law. Some seek more, and some get more. That, too, is a truth I know only too well. At some point, someone had to want you. The question is rather, what do you want, Tim?”

Tim wanted someone to love him.

Of their own accord, and not because Tim had earned it.

He wanted that more than anything else.

He was afraid that, beyond this desire, he couldn't tell if he loved Conner.

Desire sighed, “I could tell you if you want.”

Tim shook his head, “No. I'll figure it out myself.”

Desire disappeared, and soon after, Conner caught up with him.

“What was that about?” asked the Kryptonian, more than a little confused.

Tim shrugged.

Conner grinned: “I'm sorry if I didn't make a good first impression.”

Tim laughed: “Thats what I should say.”

They looked at each other, and Tim knew he didn't have to decide right away. He could spend some time with Conner first and see how things developed.

It didn't take long for Tim to recognize himself in Conner.

Conner was a clone who, according to the scientists, did not fulfill his purpose.

Conner was the son of two powerful men who were not interested in him.

Conner was the grandson of the nicest people in the world, but felt more like a burden than a gift in their home.

Yes, Tim could see that Conner was also looking for someone who loved him sincerely—unconditionally—and wanted him in their life. Tim saw that Conner also had no place where he belonged.

When Tim realized all this, he couldn't help but love Conner.

A psychiatrist could probably have written a masterpiece about Tim's psyche, but Tim didn't care. So he was messed up.

He loved Conner and Conner loved him, and for the first time in his life, Tim felt that he was perfectly happy.

Finally, the dark hole of his desire had been filled.

Tim was happily texting with Conner at the kitchen table when Dick stumbled into the room.

He was buttoning his shirt and hadn't combed his hair. Tim would have asked why Dick got up at three in the morning if he hadn't been obsessed with Desire's gift.

Dick radiated a clear desire to hug Jason immediately.

Tim decided on the spot that he would accompany Dick to prevent him from digging up a corpse if necessary.

He was all the more surprised when Dick took the fastest car and drove out of Gotham.

“Where are we going?” Tim asked.

Dick flinched and cried out in panic.

“How did you get in here?” his brother yelled in horror.

Tim just raised an eyebrow: “I got in with you? Are you sure you should be driving if you didn't even notice that?”

Dick shook his head: “I have to drive. I have to get to Jason.”

Tim was very confused. That couldn't be true, but the desire in Dick was so bright that it was like a little sun of its own.

“Jason is dead.” It almost killed Tim to say it.

“No,” Dick disagreed, “He's alive. I saw him.”

“Where?” Tim hardly dared to hope.

“In his dream.”

Tim grimaced. Dick had lost his mind.

“I know how that sounds,” Dick quickly continued, “but I can visit other people's dreams. Dream allows me to.”

Tim listened up. Desire hadn't visited him often. But once opon a time Desire had come to complain about her brother Dream because everyone else in the family was on his side.

“Dream of the Endless?” Tim asked cautiously.

Dick's gaze immediately darted to Tim and then dutifully back to the road. The speed slowed down slightly.

“You know him?”

“Not personally. But I know his little sibling Desire. Desire gave me a gift years ago.”

Dick laughed in disbelief: “I don't believe it. Me and Dream. You and Desire. And now Jason and Death too.”

Tim's eyes widened.

If Dick really knew the Endless and Death existed because Desire existed, then Jason could actually be alive.

Tim looked ahead with determination: “Step on the accelerator! We have to get a Robin back to the nest!”

He didn't have to tell Dick twice.

Tim stayed in the background as Dick hugged Jason.

Dick's desire flared up. He was perfectly happy.

Jason's desire suppressed the green desire that came from outside. It looked strange. Tim couldn't quite put it into words, but he knew that Jason didn't want to kill anyone at that moment, he just wanted to go home.

Tim smiled. His Robin was alive. Now everyone who meant anything to him would be happy.

Jason's gaze turned to him, and for a moment, the orange homesickness fought with the green bloodlust.

The homesickness won, and Tim was pulled into an embrace.

Tim was pretty sure that Desire hadn't planned or caused any of this, but he sent a little thank-you prayer in that direction anyway.

Who would have ever thought that Tim Drake would one day have everything he longed for?