Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I went too far, I lost myself. Can’t really remember who I am, or how I started. So I just stay here, watching. Everything is out of order though...or happening at the same time. It's hard to tell sometimes.

Point is if I was once human, I don’t think I qualify anymore. I don’t even know when I’m from. But I like to watch… not like that, freak.

I like to watch people go throughout their lives. Watch them grow and change and love and die.
I don’t interfere often. When I do it is because I feel something wasn’t fair.

I’m not God...well, I don’t think I am.

When I change someone’s fate, run back in time to change the outcome without anyone the wiser, it’s rare. I’ve always been a sucker for the underdog. Or… at least I think I have.

Saving someone doesn’t mean they will have a Scrooge moment. Most people never realize they were in danger. No, their future is still a jumbled mess of ‘What if’s’. Their life is still their own to do with what they wish.

Usually people continue on the path they were headed on. Meaning I usually don't save adults, usually just kids.

Point is, I don’t do this often, don’t interfere. But there was one kid who just couldn’t catch a break from day one.

Call it fate, destiny, whatever you like. But sometimes death isn’t the end.

And this kid? He kept popping back up.

I actually started to feel sorry for him. Sure, I didn’t agree with everything he did, but… after a while, he felt like my responsibility.

I’d been watching him too long. Grew fond of him. Didn’t mean to. But I did.

Chapter Text

The first time I met him, saw him rather, he was being swayed back and forth. The woman holding him looked like she was at her wits end. Her hair had been unbrushed for days and the dark circles lining her eyes was a tell tale sign that she was out of her depth.

She had tried changing him, singing to him, rocking him, feeding him. Basically everything she could think of she had tried, all to no avail. He just kept screaming himself hoarse, it was about to hit the 24 hour mark. Only three days old and already had a set of lungs on him like a Ford Focus fuel tank.

The woman had helped raise her cousins, she knew what a colicy baby looked like. It wasn’t a serious medical issue, it just seemed like it when you were in the thick of it. They would scream themselves hoarse till they were so red in the face you were surprised they were still conscious. All the while shaking their clenched fists at you like you had somehow caused it and trying their best to curl into a ball to relieve their tummy pain.

She had no way of knowing that he had intestinal volvulus, his intestines having twisted on themselves. Cutting off the blood supply. A life threatening condition.

That didn’t matter though, not really. The only thing that really matters to the story is that the kid was crying, screaming his head off crying.

And the father had had enough.

He was drunk, then again, when wasn’t he.

He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the blaring TV that had been turned up all the way to try and drown out the noise. He turned, making his way to his wife and newborn with a fire in his eyes and venom on his tongue.

He stumbled, the noise of his shoe skidding across the linoleum barely audible over the sound but it was enough to catch the woman's attention. “I don’t understand, he won’t stop,” she tried explaining before she caught sight of his eyes, at how drunk he really was. “Willis, don’t” she tried to warn, twisting so the child was shielded from him.

“He can obviously tell you aint his mama, now give him here,” Willis bit out as he approached.

“Willis, you're drunk. Go watch your game an—”

“HE’S MY FUCKIN KID,” he screammed cutting her off as he sprayed her with spittle. “If I wanna give my son something to cry about then I will do as I damn well please.”

He reached out, grabbing Catherine's sleeve and spinning her so he could grab the screaming newborn.

“Will, Don’t you have to–”

“I don't have to do shit, woman,” he bit out as he slapped her, pulling the screaming megaphone of a child to his chest.

The slap was hard, solid enough to leave an instant hand shaped imprint to bloom on her pale skin as she looked up at him.

He didn’t pay her no mind, the kid had only been with them for 3 days. Had already eaten up most of his paycheck in formula and had made his homelife a living hell since that damn bitch dropped him off like a package delivery.

Fuck you Shelia.

He wrapped his hands around Jason’s chest, his fingers easily overlapping as he encompassed the entirety of the 5.6lbs baby.

“NO,” Catherine cried out as she tried to lunge forward, but Willis had already started. He clenched his jaw as he violently shook the newborn. His head flailing back and forth as though he was an aggressively agreeable bobble head.

I couldn’t peel my eyes away. Like when you see a car crash and you can’t help but look.

She grabbed his arm with one hand, snaking the other around the boy’s small frame to try and support his neck as she begged him to stop.

He gave up, handing the child over. He had gotten what he wanted, Jason had stopped crying.

Catherine was crying as she carefully laid her quiet, limp stepson onto her chest.

She knew Willis wouldn’t let them leave the apartment to go to the hospital, and she didn’t want to risk the boy getting hurt even more. Instead, she walked into the apartment's bathroom, the TV’s volume slowly returning to a normal volume as she locked the door behind her.

He was breathing wrong, short aggressive punches of air leaving him. His blown pupils unfocused as his maternal figure began searching the medicine cabinet, praying something would magically appear to make everything better.

But Jason began to spasm. His breath catching as his lips turned blue, causing Catherine to halt her search in favor of trying her best to comfort him. A careful hand holding his neck stationary as he other hand patted his bottom. She rocked back and forth, bouncing him as she hummed “Hey Jude” by the Beatles.

Jason’s heart sputtered to a stop at just 3 days old.

I didn’t like that ending. He died a pain filled death filled with fear. I wanted to at least give him a fighting chance.

So I ran.

I don’t really know how it works, all I know is that if I go to Earth, run fast enough around the planet in the opposite direction of the planet's rotation, I can rewind time.

But, that wouldn’t fix his dying intestines. He would still meet the same fate.

So I ran in my plane of existence, I ran through the speed force. Gaining enough energy to where I was vibrating with the stuff.

When I got back, Catherine had set Jason’s body on her and Willis’ mattress before going to scream at him that he was a murderer.

The energy from the Time Stream worked differently. I could manipulate it to materialize in any way I wanted.

I slammed the door before she could leave the room, I almost felt bad when she all but jumped out of her skin. But I needed her to stay in the room, even if she couldn’t see me, didn't know I was helping.

I gave the energy to Jason. Manipulating it to fix the volvulus and undo the Shaken Baby Syndrome before bringing him back.

Catherine was still trying the door as I worked, likely, I work fast.

Just as she jimmied the door handle open, Jason began to cry. Not the deafening scream of a baby in pain, but the cry of a fussy baby that wanted to be picked up.

She was whiteknuckling the door knob as she spun, staring wide eyed as the boy coughed before fussing again.

And then she moved.

Scooping the boy up like he was precious as she hugged him close, comforting him.

He instantly soothed, quieting completely as he fished the lace trim of her tank top into his mouth.

I watched, curious as to what she would do. But she just stood there, crying as she clutched her son.

She was the first person to ‘witness’ me bringing someone back, even if her back was turned.

Chapter Text

The next time I saw him I didn’t even know it was him.

All I saw was a bundle of clothing getting slowly dusted with snow as the wind carried it sideways.

From my place in the speedforce, I couldn’t see much, just a tuft of matted black hair slowly getting peppered with snow.

So, I kept watching.

Except, he didn’t move.

I’m embarrassed to admit how long it took for me to realize he wasn’t breathing.

Now, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I CAN go to Earth, its just when I’m there for too long I start to feel weird. For those of you who are old enough, do you remember those TV’s that you could kill a man with? The ones that had built-in VHS players? Those TVs that if you touched the screen you could feel a fuzzy static electricity?

God, I miss that.

Anyways, that's what I feel like when I stay on Earth for too long…I don’t want to know what happens if I stay past that stage.

So, I ran.

A crackle building till a sonic boom resounded as I crossed the planes. Multiverse? Whatever, not important to the story.

I landed in the same alleyway as him, skidding to a halt, checking my surroundings before advancing.

The only good thing about Gotham is that everyone is too used to crazy. Too wrapped up in their own shitty life to care about what anybody else is doing. I knew no one would investigate the sound.

Unless Bruce was an adult.

Hell maybe he would have to deal with Terry….

Or was this a universe where Thomas became Batman?

I can figure out when I am later. Right then, I turned to the figure. A sense of deja vu washes over me everytime I save someone, everytime I intervene. I don’t know if it is the time line retaliating, the speedforce mad that I left or if it is my brain finally remembering my past.

It gives me a rush each time.

I approached slowly, “you alright,” I called, knowing they wouldn’t hear me.

I crouched down next to them, reaching up to lightly tug the coat down from the owner's ears. What I wasn’t expecting was to see a far too pale, familiar face underneath. His lips were a dark blue and his eyes were starting to turn white as they froze.

Jason Todd had frozen to death, at 8 years old.

With no one to mourn him.

To notice he was gone.

No one but me.

I stood slowly, rolling my back as I stretched out my neck. I didn’t know how long he had been like this. The first time I had bought him 8 years, I just hopped this time would last him till he was old.

I took off, running out onto Gotham Harbour as I passed the sound barrier, running against the Earth’s rotation to rewind time.

I rewound an hour and checked on him, still dead…but this time, his body still held some warmth.

I ran faster, wanting to give him as much of a chance as I could.

The next time I skidded to a stop in the alley, I could see the faint puffs of breath coming from his nose, his body shivering against the cold as he curled tighter into a ball.

I approached slowly, like how you’re supposed to do with victims…but I don’t remember who taught me that.

He was half asleep, violently shaking as his this frame tried to warm him. I brushed back his bangs, “hey kid.”

He didn’t respond, too out of it from malnutrition and the cold to really be all that aware. “Alright kid,” I had muttered to myself as I scooped him up. “Sorry for the wind chill.”

I ran him to Leslie, she was a constant healer in the multiverse, even if sometimes she did dabble in the dark side of life. She also didn’t bat an eye as I strolled through her clinics front door, holding a child that was but an hour from a hypothermic death.

Chapter Text

I didn’t save him the third time.

I watched him run. Fly across the sky with fire in his eyes. He might not have meant to, but he jumpscared a man. The man jerked in surprise, losing his footing and tumbled off the balcony.

Robin didn’t try to save him.

He didn’t kill the man, but he didn’t try to save him either. The kid had a fire in his soul, I couldn’t deny that, but I had a creeping feeling at the base of my spine that he might one day become a Batman rogue.

I watched, almost feeling sorry for the kid, as Bruce ignored him for the next five days. Trying to piece together if Robin had killed him, or just neglected saving the man.

Then Jason ran. In his mind, his biggest fear had come true, they didn’t want him anymore. He didn’t have a home anymore.

Bruce didn’t even realize till 9 hours later when Jason didn’t come down for dinner.

I admit, solemnly, that I turned away. I knew Joker was in that warehouse, knew what Shelia was doing to her own flesh and blood just to save her own skin.

Throughout my time stuck in the speed force, there were a select few people who deserved a beating that bad. I don’t know how the kid stayed conscious. But, he did. He got to stare at his mother, as she disinterestedly smoked a cigarette. Not even caring enough to look at him and he bled out on the floor.

It made my blood boil. Cruel people will do cruel things.

To be honest, with the things Jason had lived through, I’m surprised he wasn’t worse.

Then Joker had set the bomb, quietly informing his men that Sheila and Robin would both be chained in the building to die together.

Jason was always a fighter. He got out of his binds even as the shards of his broken bones ground against one another under his skin. He freed the bitch, but they couldn’t get the door open.

In their last few seconds, Shelia continued to pull uselessly at the handle, muttering under her breath about how she was betrayed. Jason sat quietly next to her, a single silent tear rolling down his face as he watched the numbers count down.

0:03

0:02

0:01

Jason stood at the last second to shield the woman who had done everything in her power to prove she never wanted the boy.

0:00

They were blown back as they were engulfed in flames.

She lived…he suffocated, slowly. Choking on the smoke as his father finally arrived, scavenging for his boy…nowhere to be found. Until it was too late.

I was tempted to run back, to save him. But, bad things happen every day, you can’t save everyone. I had already saved Jason twice. He had lived 3 years knowing what true love from a parent felt like.

I hoped he died knowing Bruce had looked for him.

Then the crisis happened. The event was too big for me to even entertain the idea of interfering. So, I just watched with bated breath.

The fight went how fights usually go: the heroes win but they’re beat to shit. But this time, a time stream flickered. It was barely anything, just a quick flash of orange flame around the edge before it went out just as quick. It aligned with when Superboy from Earth Prime punched a hole through reality, causing a ripple effect through the multiverse.

But my full attention was on that Earth now. Anything could happen.

The image was pure darkness.

Silence.

Then a gasp.

Harsh breathing like someone who had just resurfaced after diving into the ocean to try and grab a shell from the bottom.

The image retracted, until an angel was shown, illuminated by the moonlight.

‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ was written at her feet. ‘Beloved son.”

I hate to admit it, but I hadn't recognized the name till now. I know I know ‘all powerful beings not knowing things’. Point is, I hadn't clocked why the name felt so familiar, Jason Todd.

He’s not a constant.

He’s a variable.

Robin, Gang boss, Lord Robin, Zombie Hunter, Arkham Knight, Red Hood, Priest the list goes on and on. In almost every universe, his role is different. Maybe this is why, maybe I am the one who fucked up his life. Maybe he was supposed to die by Willis’ hands, giving Catherine the motivation to leave him, so she could live and give birth to a girl with her second husband. Maybe I am why his story is always different. Different versions of me, with different levels of interfering in his life.

Guardian Angel.

Or Possessive Demon.

Chapter Text

I couldn’t take it anymore. The regret and shame was eating away at me as time slowly ticked forward.

After I laid eyes on Jason again, I made sure to never really leave him alone. Taking that whole creepy guardian angel thing to heart.

He managed to dig his way out of his grave with only his belt buckle and nails that didn’t survive the ordeal. He stumbled, bloody and covered in mud, down the hill of Gotham cemetery where he had been buried. He turned left automatically when he pushed open the iron rod gate, his brain damaged mind carrying him like the zombie he was back home to Wayne Manor.

He hadn’t even made it 2 miles before a drunk driver hit him. He had still been on the sidewalk, the knowledge stored deep in his subconscious to still keep himself safe. He had tried to jump over the truck, roll with the momentum, but he had failed. His broken ankle from Joker had refused to cooperate.

He was all but brained on the asphalt as his burial suit was torn to shreds from the road rash.

I kept watch. Day in and day out as the nurses and Dr’s went about their rounds taking care of him in his coma.

No one had recognized him, not with the wounds, not with the fact that he was legally still dead.

Then, one day, 8 months later, he just… woke up. No spark of recognition, no gasp for air. Just a slow, confused blink as if sleep had been a suggestion rather than a coma.

Pulled the tube out of his throat, got his bearings, and walked out of the building.

He lived on the streets then, the additional brain injury probably knocking out more of the subconscious memories that dying had originally done.

He wandered, continued life as he had when he was mourning his mother.

The thought gnawed at me that I should have intervened earlier. Given him a better chance at a good life.

But, I didn’t.

Ra’s was keeping tabs on Batman, probably because of the prince but that's another story. The point is, there were shadows stationed in Gotham. And one of them recognized our boy, calling Talia and asking what to do.

0o0o0

Jason wasn’t doing well in the League, not by my standards at least. In their standards, he was excelling.

Every attack, every trial and tribulation, he passes with flying colors.

But he wouldn't eat. Not unless one of the maids all but forced it down his throat. When he wasn’t being tested by his teachers he would hide. Cramming himself behind furniture or in the barns rafters, just trying his damndest to isolate himself.

I don’t think he could talk, or really communicate. He would whine or slap at things when people tried to force him to do things. With all the trauma and physical impairments he had from his injuries and brain damage he was very special needs in a cult that would not conform to help him.

Talia kept bordering the line of being his mother and his…lover. While Ra’s saw him as an experiment. A tool to be honed and defined to be a weapon against the Bat.

I knew I had to do something soon. I hated just sitting by and watching but the last straw was when I watched him run from one of the maids / nurses as they tried to patch him up after a ‘spar’. The ointment had stung, and Jason hadn’t understood why they were hurting him, so he swung on them before running to hide.

He ran to one of the horse stalls, there was an old Belgian working horse who would aim in physical labor when they needed landscaping done. He was a gentle giant. I’ve always wondered if animals can sense that they need to move slower, stay calmer with special needs people. I can’t explain it but I’ve seen it before. It’s like they can clock it, they know that if they show fear or hesitance they will scare the person.

Jason ran to the working horse, the Belgian sparing him a side glance as the boy hurried into the stall with the horse as he munched away at his hay. Jason was hyperventilating, from the run or the fear I couldn’t tell.

I watched as he pulled a ninja star from his tunic. “No…” I said as sadness ran through my heart. I watched him carve his forearm, from the crock of his elbow to his wrist in a deep gash.

He was sobbing, but, I don’t think it was from the pain.

The horse, I never did catch his name, must have smelt the iron. He turned, ignoring his dinner to look at the boy as he fumbled, trying to pass the blade to his other hand to repeat the motion on his good arm. The blood coating him made it difficult.

The horse encroached on his personal space, nosing at his shoulder, trying to get his attention. Jason ignored him. He lifted his head, taking a step closer and did that thing where horses move their tops lip back and forth over you to Jason’s hair. It usually made him giggle, right now though, I doubt if he was present enough to feel it.

I stood then, ready to start running, but I didn’t need to.

Guards rushed in, tracking the boy who had hurt a nurse. What they hadn’t expected was for them to walk into a horse trying to comfort a child as he tried to carve himself too pieces.

They rushed into the stall, spooking the horse before dragging him out. He fought them the entire way, kicking, screaming, trying his damndest to let him go as they tried to staunch the blood flow.

They brought him to Talia, not knowing what else to do.

0o0o0

She had calmed him enough for him to allow the pain of wound care. His eyes were still distant, hazy, and he was blinking like a frog. It made me laugh the first time I saw him do it, slow blinks they weren’t synchronized. Then I realized, he only did it when he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown from lack of sleep. Like a really fucked up version of how toddlers get a little grumpy, that signal that its time for a nap.

He just sat at her desk, motionless. Watching (but not really) as she sewed his arms closed, not trusting he would be able to let one of the nurses do it.

That was when Ra’s busted in. He bitched and moaned about how Jason wasn’t making the progress he had expected in the year he had been under the League's care. Stated that their generosity ended tonight, that tomorrow he would be transported to a facility that was better equipped to handle him, where he could live until nature came to claim his soul.

Little did Ra’s know, nature had come to claim him about 16 years ago.

Talia didn’t retaliate, she just nodded and agreed. I guess her play toy wasn’t as important as her son’s safety. Not really a good idea to have an unstable assassin around your 4 year old.

Talia was tasked with keeping him company. Making sure he was watched and restrained up until the time of his transport. Since he was her project, she was his keeper I guess.

So they wandered, walking the halls slowly as Talia recounted tales to him. That’s one thing that even being brain dead didn’t change, Jason still loved stories. She told tales of her youth, how she had once tried to flee the league. How she had once met a boy, and fallen in love. Had a child with him and he never even knew.

I admit, it was a shitty idea. I didn’t know if I would be saving him … or condemning him. But fate is a cruel bastard, so I did it.

I ran.

I emerged out of the speed force from behind them as Talia and Jason passed the ledge. Shoving past them, Jason fell, and Talia hit the wall. I know she saw me, there's no way she didn’t see the lightning as I sped past. They were in a cave whose only source of light was torches. I knew Talia would never admit to someone getting the better of her, I had nothing to fear. She would take the secret of me to her grave.

And Jason fell.

As the water curled around him, dragging him down, anxiety pooled in my gut. I knew I wasn’t saving you, not really. But, I was changing you, changing your story again.

Out of the ashes and all that.

‘Hey’, I thought as I settled myself into the speed force again. ‘Maybe he will call himself Phoenix this time around.’

Chapter Text

I shouldn’t have let him come back like this. This “Red Hood.” I should have let him stay in the league, gone to the facility where someone could take care of him. Not this, never this.

I watched in horror, hand covering my dropped jaw as he sawed off the heads of the gang leaders. Flinching as he carelessly tossed them into a duffle bag, shaking the dripping blood off of his gloves when he had finished.

I stopped watching. He was only alive because I had saved him, three times now. I couldn’t help but wonder what had gone differently on the other Earths, why those Jason Todds turned out differently.

Don’t get me wrong, I could watch them, riffle through the fabric of reality in the speed force to watch their life stories. But I can only return to one Earth, I’m assuming it is my home Earth, my home universe, even if I can’t really remember.

I know that the Arkham Knight is made from Joker torturing and toying with Jason for years. That sometimes Jason never comes back from his death as Robin. Sometimes, he dies before he can ever become Robin.

I hate to admit it, but the only ‘good outcome’ I’ve ever found for his life is when he is a Priest. I don’t know how thing were different (it’s hard to layer out time to play like a movie okay), all I know is that in that universe after he was ‘brought back to consciousness’ by the pit, he stopped. He put the fighting and vigilantism behind him. Only to one day be called to a prison, to read Bruce Wayne his last rights.

I don’t know how the kid had been able to keep a straight face and pretend everything was okay. Bruce looked about ready to cry, shit himself and have a heart attack all at the same time.

But I searched, looked for a way to help him not be so…villainous.

When I finally accepted I probably wasn’t going to find anything useful, weeks had passed. Joker was tied to a chair, cacking away as always, as Jason screamed at Bruce, begging him to kill the Joker.

Those weren’t the words of the killer Red Hood, those were the words of a scared child, begging their parent to save them.

Bruce stood, stone cold. The room, a broken down condemned apartment with the plaster barely hanging onto the walls. The floor boards warped from water damage and coated in the light layer of dust.

Jason held his gun, pointed to Joker's temple, begging Bruce for salvation. Begging Bruce to prove that he had once been loved.

The white lenses of the domino’s hid their eyes, hid Jason’s tears as he pleaded, Joker cackling in the background all the while.

Then Bru–Batman…Batman moved…because a father wouldn’t do that.

Batman threw a batarang, slicing Red Hood’s neck to ribbons. The detonator in his hand dropped, triggering itself as it hit the ground, blowing the building to smithereins.

Batman pulled out a respirator and began digging through the flames and rubble…but he was moving in the wrong direction. Then it hit me, he wasn’t searching for Jason…he was searching for Joker.

I wanted to leave the speed force just to punch the idiot. I had seen how he had acted, seen him tiptoe with the darkside. How he had found the edge of his moral code and used that line like a jump rope, round and round until Tim had come along and forced some sense into him.

I changed the angles instead, searching for Jason myself. I wanted to go search for him, but there was no way the sonic boom of me re-entering Earth wouldn’t be heard by Batman. I couldn’t risk being trapped on Earth…I didn’t want to know what happened after the tingling turned to burning…the burning was bad enough when I stayed too long.

I searched, knowing that something, or someone, wanted Jason alive. I didn’t know why yet, but I needed to find out. Need to know what they had planned. How I had played a part in all the pain and hurt.

I found him, lying on his side. His jaw slack, his eyes dry as the flame evaporated the tears. His hands limply lying against the debris beneath him as the flames licked at his corpse.

He was dead once more.

I selfishly hoped this was the end of it, but I knew that wouldn’t be the case.

He was going to come back, one way or another. If I had to wait, keep watch over wherever his body was placed, I would have to keep vigilant. My focus never wavering. And I could never keep my attention fixed for very long.

So I ran, reversed the clock just enough so I could watch the explosion reverberate the air once more.

This time, though, I knew where Jason would land.

I found him, clawing at his throat as he choked on his own blood. The fountain of red reminded me of the Katy Perry music video.

I left the time stream, praying Batman would be too occupied in finding his arch nemesis to bother with a sonic boom. As I ran, I realized, I wasn’t doing this for Jason. I wasn’t saving him from anything. Each and every time, I had just been prolonging his suffering, even if I just had pure intentions.

I skidded to a stop in front of him as I emerged.

Jason looked up at me from where he lay on the ground, trying to quell the blood loss, likely knowing it was futile.

He once again was going to die in an explosion in an abandoned building, Batman and Joker close but not close enough both times.

But this time he didn’t call for Bruce. He didn’t call for anyone. He knew no one ould save him, even pretend to. He just raised his pistol at me shakily. The fire inside him still raging as strong as the fire that had surrounded us.

I knew I should leave him. I should let the timeline play out. Last time I had done that though, it hadn’t mattered. Something wanted Jason alive.

I walked forward as lightning crackled off my body, energy from the time stream begging to be released, to have an outlet.

Jason fired, emptying the remaining 3 rounds at me. I vibrated my molecules, letting them pass through me as I continued toward him.

His breathing was a sputtering mess, his chest heaving for oxygen as the fire burnt it away.

I crouched down, easily prying his hands away from the wound to replace them with my own. Closing my eyes, I let the energy from the speed force save him, heal the flesh under my hands. It wouldn’t be able to do anything about the blood loss, but hey, beggars can't be choosers.

I spun on my heels, taking off the instant it was done to return to my home.

Jason swiped at his neck, the flayed flesh now replaced with scar tissue.

I don’t know what I am. But, I do know that from this point forward, every life he takes, is on my hands.

Chapter Text

He’d had bad days.

This one was trying very, very hard to make the top ten.

The battlefield was a mess of smoke, fire, and shrieking magic as Klarion the Witch Boy darted overhead like a feral sparkler, blasting anyone dumb enough to stand still. Darkseid’s parademons swarmed overhead, ripping up chunks of asphalt as they divebombed. And the Justice League had called in all their allies, the heroes and hero adjacent were knee-deep in what felt like a never-ending boss rush.

Jason ducked beneath a burning car as a beam of red energy sizzled over his head. ‘Great,’ Jason joked in his own head, ‘lasers. Because this wasn’t already annoying enough.’

He fired, lighting up the nearest parademon, blowing its face sideways before rolling out to join the others. Batman was ahead, backlit by fire, directing orders through the comms that Jason’s helmet kept fuzzing out. It had been on the fritz since he had been thrown like a ragdoll earlier, smashing the components inside, but the helmet held strong.

Everyone was stretched thin.

Superman was locked in a wrestling match with a parademon the size of a school bus. Wonder Woman’s lasso glowed like a sun as she confined one of them, using it as a ‘ball and chain’ to take out the others. Constantine kept screaming that Klarion was “cheating” and a “knob sucking wanker” which Klarion responded to by throwing glittery eldritch lightning at him.

Jason was just doing his best to not to die again.

He shot, ducked, pivoted, stabbed, watched a parademon explode in green fire as Zatana joined the fight.

He was running low on bullets. His arms were shaking. He hated to admit it but he was tempted to pull out the All-Blades. Sure, Bruce would be pissed he hid magic and it would put them back a year or so in the trust department…but at least they could kill the parademons easier than his bullets.

He didn’t know how long they’d been fighting. It felt like hours, or years. His lungs burned as the smoke around them just continued to increase in density, making it just that harder for the non-flighted heroes.

Then the smoke cleared, just enough for Klarion to spot him from above.

The little gremlin hovered above, grinning ear to ear, as he calmly stroked his orange cat.

“Ooooh, Red Hood!” Klarion squealed, rotating like a fidget spinner from hell. “My turn, my turn! I want to kill you this time! Then I can take you and Batsy off the board, making our victory just that easier.”

Jason raised his gun, the cambers only having 5 bullets between them and bit out, “eat me.”

“Tempting,” Klarion chirped. “But I like my meat broiled!”

Jason only had time to register a bright, searing light in Klarion’s hands.

He’d seen the spell before. A “hole-maker,” as Constantine called it. A spell that erased matter in a perfect circle. Foot-wide. Clean. Instant.

You didn’t survive it, unless the caster had shit aim

He tried to move, but his leg buckled. His possibly broken ankle giving out underneath him, the motion made his ribs scream as his vision doubled.

He heard the spell fire as he tried to recover, tried to move.

A thunderous CRACK of a sonic boom sounded throughout the battle field. And Jason experienced the tell tale feeling of his organs moving around inside his body as he was forced at supersonic speeds.

They hadn’t kept their grip though, he harshly slammed into something, knocking it to ground as he tumbled with it.

He skidded, trying his best to tumble with the motion to dissipate the impact, the velocity pissing off his injuries even more as he turned to look to see what he destroyed.

Bruce.

Why the fuck would Barry throw him into Batman?

A flash of Blue light surged out of the corner of his eye as Baman rose to his feet, on guard.

A slapping thud of flesh slamming into asphalt was heard as the newcomer took down Klarion within a second.

He skidded to a halt. Blue lighting crackled around him like static electricity as he stared Batman down. He wore the skin tight spandex suit of a speedster, the suit a turquoise with a white lightning bolt on the chest. White and baby blue highlights painted his sides and cascaded down his limbs with only his lower face exposed.

He nodded once to Bruce as Batman took on a ready position, not knowing the new speedsters' next move.

Except… he ran the wrong way. He tore through the group, each parademon of Darkseids being taken down with precision.

He was faster than the Flashes and Impulse.

And he controlled a world ending event by himself in 3.7 seconds, just to skid to a stop as the entire group’s attention was pulled to him.

“Who are you,” Batman barked out.

The blue speedster looked taken aback, like he hadn’t expected anyone o care that he had arrived. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly enough as he began looking around, his eyes focused on the ground as if looking for something.

“You, don’t know,” Superman questioned as he hesitantly walked forward.

“I can't remember anything,” he replied off handedly as he found what he was looking for. He bolted off again, this time though, he tumbled out of his run. The orange cat mutating as it tried to destroy him instantly. The speedster tumbled with the…thing. Manipulating it as he got scratched to hell before he finally got a good scruff on what used to be a cat. He quickly snapped the animal's neck, the body instantly going limp in his hands.

“NO,” Robin screamed as the crack resounded through the quiet battlefield, Nighting holding him back in a hug as he began to whisper something into the boy’s ear.

At the same time, a portal opened up underneath Klarion’s body, taking just him before closing once more. “All I know, is I keep finding him,” The speedster explained as he pointed to Red Hood as he slowly stood to his full height.

“…that’s… not ominous at all,” Red Hood stated

“WHY DID YOU KILL IT,” Robin all but screamed as Nightwing failed at trying to calm him.

“Explain,” Batman demanded.

“Oh,” the Speedster looked taken aback as he looked at the corpse still in his hand. “This is Teekl, he is Klarion’s familiar. Kill Teekl, Klarion is forced back to his dimension until Teekl can heal himself.”

“I believe Batman was referring to ‘finding Hood,” Wonder Woman explained as she rewrapped her lasso.

“Right, sorry,” he apologized before turning to face Batman once more. “I don't see people often, but he keeps popping up. Like, I hardly ever see people multiple times but you,” he explained, turning to face Red Hood. “It’s always you. What makes you so important? Why are you a variable that refuses to continue? And yet, when I did let you stay dead, superboy prime brought you back.”

“Superboy prime…” Green Arrow questioned. He still had an arrow knocked, prepared for the situation to go sideways.

“Is that why you wear the helmet,” the blue speedster questioned, ignoring Green Arrow. “Because of the head trauma from your father? Wait, no you wouldn’t remember that. Catherine would though,” the speedster jerked his head, like he was trying to shake water from his hair.

“What are yo—” Red Hood, questioned as the hair on his body stood on end at the mention of his mother.

“No, no” the speedster whispered to himself as he shook his head back and forth, roughly grabbing ontot he fabric of his cowl as he did so. “This is a timeline where she's dead. So no one knows what I'm talking about but me.”

He frooze, quickly removing his hands to stand as straight as an iron rod. Speaking directly to Green Launtern, the unfortunate hero who just so happened to be directly in front of him now, he stated “Leslie saw me, and Talia. Two of the times I’ve intervened.”

There was an awkward silence. The like that perks. The kind that lingers as everyone if trying to figure out what to say.

“The batarang…” Red Hood whispered. If it hadn’t been for the silence, no one would have heard him.

“Right,” The speedster stated enthusiastically, like he had just been proven correct in an argument. “I forgot you were… I rewound time to bring you back, you died the first time.”

“What batarang,” Nightwing quickly questioned. He was standing at his full height now, his hands lightly resting on Robin’s chest as the boy stood in front of him. The light touch grounding as he controlled his anger about the ‘cat’, with Nightwing at his back to keep him steady.

“Then there was that time Green Arrow killed you,” he pointed at Red Hood enthusiastically as a mad man. Except, he caught himself, his face contorting in sorrow as he realized “no, wait. Sorry, sorry. I keep mixing the stories,” he stated somberly as his gaze shifted to the ground once more.

“I just… I have to go,” the bluespeedster confessed. “When the tingling starts it makes it harder to think.”

“Tingling,” Flash questioned as he began to step closer.

“What’s your name,” Red Robin questioned at the same time, thor voices overlapping.

“I don't know. I just,” he sighed, looking up like a man defeated. “Once the tingling shows up I only have about a minute until it starts to hurt. I have to go back to the speed force. I can't stay on earth for very long.”

“Go back to the speed force,” Barry questioned as he walked closer. “What do you mean by that? How long have you been in the speed force?”

“I’m sorry I,” the blue speedster raised a hand to his head, whincing as he shook like a dog with an ear infection. “I have to go. I have to…” he trailed off as the scarlet speedster laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Do you know what year it is?”

“Where am I,” the stranger questioned instead.

And then he ran.

The flashs chased after him, but he was too fast for them to follow. They were never able to find him. The Blue Speedster became a mythos of the JL.

Red Hood’s guardian angel.