Title: A Long Way From Home (And No Way Back)
Author: Vivia_wants_boba
Universe: DC X MCU
Word Count: 87k
Status: Ongoing? (Recently updated)
Synopsis:
"Oh," the kid says, head turning to look back at the bathroom. "It's fine. I've got it figured out."
Dick's face pulls to a pinched expression, shaking his head slowly. "As much as I'd love to believe you, I can't. That stuff can't just be emptied down the drain."
The kid's own face scrunches this time. "Why not?"
Jason has a feeling this kid doesn't remember quite as much of his experience in the pit as Jason did himself. With a sudden jolt, Jason realizes this kid might not know he's dead.
Great.
Rec Reading Site: Archive of Our Own
First Chapter:
"Okay, okay, but the third Shrek is objectively the worst," Tim said, lifting his traveler cup to his lips and sipping the hot coffee from it. Jason, who sat across from him in a bean bag, shook his head with his arms crossed.
"Nope," he said with finality. "The third one is the best."
Damian nodded in agreement from his spot on the floor. The Lego set he was building was almost complete, a small diner-like building standing almost finished as he worked on the roof. Jason smirked as he saw a small frown set up on his youngest brother's face and watched as the young teenager looked around at the pieces surrounding his crossed legs.
"Something wrong baby bat?" Dick asked as he entered the room, immediately coming to lean against the back of the couch where Tim sat.
"I'm missing a piece," Damian said shortly, his sharp gaze still searching the pieces around him.
"Oh," Dick said, his mouth quirking slightly and his gaze finding Jason's. He raised an eyebrow. "Wonder how that happened."
Damian, who had not been looking up and had not caught the look, groaned in frustration, standing up and looking down at the floor again.
"I don't understand," his face set into a frown. Tim, taking another sip from his cup, shook his head.
"I'm sure you'll find it," he said as he stood, wavering a little when he reached his feet. Dick, ever the worrier, stepped forward.
"Maybe you should get some sleep Timbit," he reaches for Tim's arm, but the young boy just shrugs him off.
"I can't," Tim says through a yawn. "Got really important stuff to be doing."
"Stuff like what?" Dick crossed his arms over his chest, and the sight made Jason snort. His older brother shoots him a look but returns his gaze back to Tim. "Like monitoring the patrol that you and Jason are supposed to be getting ready for," Tim looks at his watch. "And leave in like 5 minutes."
Jason checks his own watch and sure enough, the replacement was right.
"Shit," he says, pushing himself out of the bean bag and tossing the small Lego piece clutched in his hands down to the floor. "Guess we better go get ready then."
He rushes out of the room with Tim snickering behind him, the sounds of Damian frustrated yells echoing down the manor halls.
Patrol was one of Jason's favorite parts of the day.
It was freeing, and the feeling of his bike running smoothly beneath him and the wind ripping through his clothes made him feel alive. Which was something he felt more and more now. (Even though he isn't alive.) He also liked the feeling of flesh under his knuckles and fresh bruises on his hands but that wasn't the point.
Sometimes, it was the beauty of the city that made it all worth it.
Now, don't get him wrong, Gotham wasn't the prettiest of cities. Its skies were dark and gloomy, rarely ever letting the sun peek through, and the air was never clean. The streets were dirty and dark, with creatures and figures lurking in the shadows alike, and it wasn't safe to walk around alone at any time of the day. Kids ran in dirty clothes and matted hair from corner to corner asking for change that no one gave and adults too tired to move sat against walls and gazed out upon the streets with dull eyes.
But underneath all the grime and corruption, hidden behind the crime was something that Jason couldn't describe. Gotham was his home, no matter the terrible experiences he had gone through here, it was where his family is. And it is where he always finds himself, despite his wish to stay away.
Crime Alley has become his home away from home and holds his own apartment along with a couple safe houses. It was where he went when he didn't want to deal with his family, or they were all busy doing something else and the manor was empty. The drive from his apartment to Damian and Tim's school was long, but he still found it in himself to go to all their stupid science conventions and art fairs. He even went to a play that Damian was in and recorded it. He found ways to meet up with his family, even if he really didn't want to, he pushed himself to. He knows they're the only ones he has left, the only ones who understand. And besides, they're family.
But patrol with family?
Annoying.
Annoying as hell.
Especially when the whole lot of them went out. Right now, it was just him and Dick out, with Tim at home monitoring them and surfing through security cameras to check for crime. Bruce had some sort of meeting at Wayne Industries, and Damian was stuck at home with Alfred because he was grounded. For what, Jason wasn't exactly sure. All he knew was that it involved glitter glue and one of Tim's favorite hoodies.
He grinned into the night at the thought, remembering the look on his baby brother's face when he came to complain to Dick that night. That has been one hell of a conversation.
"Hood," Tim's voice crackled over his com, causing him to pause as he vaulted over a roof's air conditioning unit.
"What's up Red?" Dick stopped next to him, shaking out his hair. Jason snorted at him.
"I've spotted something weird near Crime Alley, it's about a block north of your safehouse," Tim's voice was complemented by the sound of keyboard keys clacking quickly. Jason hummed, already turning towards his home turf.
"Got any more information than 'weird'?" Dick asked as they made their way across the rooftops, hopping between the buildings with ease.
"There's an apartment flowing green?" Tim's voice sounds unsure, and Jason can feel the low growl form in his throat.
"Green," he repeats. "Anything else? You know, maybe like exactly what we're supposed to do about it?"
"Apartments don't just glow green, Timbo," Dick speaks up as he passes Jason, taking longer strides to lead the way. Jason's not sure why he does it, after all they are heading into his territory.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm checking on it." More clicking and clacking. Then a tired sigh. "I can't see into it through the cameras, the window is small and is high up in the wall. I'm guessing maybe a bathroom window?" There's some low muttering that is too rushed for Jason to understand. "Heat seeking isn't working, and I'm running a toxicity test right now so hold your horses."
Jason sighed, leapt over a random garden and continued running, following his brother.
"Aha!" Tim exclaims over the com a minute later and there's some shuffling that grates on Jason's ears. Silence.
"Well? Are we dealing with some new toxin or something?" Jason tries to keep the gruffness out of his voice, but they are nearing the location and they do not have nearly enough information.
"What? Oh no, uh not that, no," Tim's voice trails off unsurely. Jason doesn't like his tone. Neither does Dick apparently.
"Tim," the oldest says with a bit of an edge. "Got something to share with us? Since we're the ones out here? Do we need to call Bruce?"
"Well," Tim draws out and welp that's not good. "Depends on if you feel like dealing with another zombie on your own or not."
That has Jason stopping in his tracks. "What?" He demands back, a sinking feeling in his gut.
Green, neon toxic green that filled his dreams, his mind, his eyes-.
"What do you mean, Tim?"
"The toxicity levels match the ones we got from the Lazarus pits, Jason," Tim says. "It's, well it's not exact, but definitely replicating it. I think someone tried to make a homemade one?"
Jason, despite himself, snorted. "Yeah, 'cause everyone has access to the chemical mumbo jumbo that makes up that hell liquid. And the knowledge on what it is even."
"I'm going to ignore that you just called it hell liquid and go ahead and say that I genuinely have no idea what's going on, but you should probably check it out."
Over the com, Jason heard Dick sigh. He snickers, stepping to catch up with his brother. "Not feeling like chasing around a zombie, Dickwing?" he teased as he ran.
"Not really," Dick answers back. "I already have one I need to keep an eye on."
"Haha," Jason returns, shaking his head amused. "Let's see what this is all about huh?"
The building was a normal looking apartment building, at least as far as Crime Alley goes.
Steps led up to double doors that led to apartments further in the building. The front lights were dim, one of the glass fixtures shattered and the other cracked. A few of the windows were lit dimly, all of them with curtains pulled right over the glass, a couple of the others broken and covered with boards. Up the building about halfway was the small window Tim found. Even from where they stood across the street in an alley, Jason could see the glow.
"Alright Timbo," Jason says to the comm, eyes glancing down the street for any stragglers. Normal people knew better than to wander the streets of Gotham after dark, even with the Bats around; but that doesn't stop the druggies or drunks. Although he doesn't really need no one to be there, it does get rid of the list of witnesses in case something goes wrong. "Got any information about the apartment?"
There's the sound of soft keyboard clacks and a thunk of a mug hitting a table before Tim is talking again. "Building was built in 1897 and was shut down until a few years ago due to a mold problem. The units are cheap and kinda shabby, each for about 700 dollars a month."
Dick, who was leaning against the alley wall next to Jason nodded, hands tapping a slight rhythm to his knees. Jason thinks it's the Mario Kart Theme.
"According to the building blueprints, the apartment you're looking for is unit 4E. It's listed under a man named Lucas Welling, I'm running the name right now."
"Alright," Dick says, pushing himself from the wall. "We're heading in now, so keep us updated."
The two of them rushed across the road, eyes peeled for anything lurking in the shadows, carefully scanning any of the empty looking windows. Jason still has a twisted feeling in his gut that screams trap, but he keeps close to his brother's side, and they enter the building without problem. The front entry is empty, a simple room with a table pushed to the side with mailboxes in the wall above, a set of stairs against the far wall, and an elevator with big yellow tape stretched across it sat on the empty wall. The carpet was stained, and the walls yellowed, but it didn't smell like most of the shabbier aparmtents did in Gotham.
Jason led as they passed the elevator to the stairs, their footsteps silent as they made their way up the staircase. The building is mostly silent, only the occasional beat of loud music or a baby crying making its way down the hall as they pass the floor. Jason was, embarrassingly, already out of breath as they reached the fourth floor, which Dick found incredibly amusing.
"Really, Red," Dick snorts, shaking his head. "Maybe we should add climbing stairs to the workout rotation."
"Shut up," Jason grouches back, straightening out his jacket as they creep down the hallway, towards a door that read 4E in brass lettering. "If you do, I'll tell Alfred to take away your cereal privilages."
Dick pouts but says nothing more.
"So," Jason starts casually, both staring at the unassuming door with wary eyes. "What exactly do we do now."
Personally, he thinks his plan of breaking the door down and aiming his guns at anything that moves is the best choice. Although he hasn't told Dick of that plan, he's fairly sure Dick will shoot the idea down the minute he opens his mouth. So, he looks at his brother with an eyebrow raised.
"I mean," Dick starts, raising a fist to the door and holding it a few inches away. "We could just knock?"
Jason levels a flat stare at his brother, trying to push the idea of how bad that sounds through his eyes, but Dick seems to not notice. Or care. Instead, he smiles a white flash and knocks twice, loudly.
At first there's no sound from inside, only the gentle pound of Jason's heart in his ears and the sound of Dick's even breaths, but then there's the almost invisible soft thuds of footsteps nearing the door. Jason is pretty sure that whoever is in the apartment, be it the Welling dude or not, is most certainly not going to open the door to two vigilantes. So, he's surprised when the door handle moves and clicks, the door opening no more than two inches and allowing him only a sliver of view of the unit inside.
It's dark inside, everything bathed in a sickly green light that leaks out of an ajar bathroom door deeper inside the room. From his spot, Jason can see the edge of a rusty tub filled with something that looks almost like Nickelodeon Slime, and a pile of towels strewn across the floor stained green.
"Lucas Welling?" Dick asks and Jason looks down from where his gaze had been only to blink in surprise. There's a kid blocking the doorway's small opening. His brown hair, streaked with grey down the front, is partially dried and curls around his ears. Eyes, only one visible, but still toxic green and visibly red rimmed, peak out from around the door suspiciously. A large grey shirt falls past his hips onto blue basketball shorts that are a little too baggy. The kid - although kid might not be the right word as Jason studies him more - is short, maybe 5' 4'' and probably 130 pounds soaking wet. Jason could be wrong though, as more than half of the teenagers(?, he's still not sure) body is hidden behind the door.
"Lucas Welling?" Dick repeats, and Jason's eyes cut to his brother's face. Satisfied to see that Dick is examining the kid as closely as he had, he looks back at the boy.
"Ah," the boy says, voice a little deeper than what Jason was expecting. The kid couldn't be much older than 16, Jason figures. "No?"
Jason raises an eyebrow just as the comm in his ear clicks.
"I've got that information on Lucas Welling," Tim says, and is that a Rubik's cube Jason hears? He raises a hand to his ear, eyes never leaving the kid who watches him with the same level of apprehension and clears his throat.
"Go ahead R," he says.
"Lucas Welling is 38 years old and lives on his own. His parents died a couple years ago in a nursing home and Welling works at a local hotel as a housekeeper. No siblings, kids, or social media account, and anything I can find hints that he wasn't close with people."
Jason hums. "No kids, huh," he repeats, looking down at the teenager in the doorway.
"Can I, uh, help you?" the kid, until Jason knows his name that's what he's calling him, asks, and the door closes just a tiny bit.
Dick nods, shoulders shifting just slightly. "We've noticed a bit of a light coming from the window," he starts, nodding to the apartment behind the kid. "Saw it was coming from here and decided to check it out, y'know? Make sure everyone is alright."
The kid's eyes narrow despite the relaxed smile spreading across Dick's face. "What's it to you? Who even are you?"
Jason raises an eyebrow. A Gothamite that doesn't recognize him? Dick, he can understand. Afterall, Nightwing makes most of his rounds in Bludhaven, only the occasional one in Gotham as a stand in or around a holiday. But Jason is Red Hood, someone whose face, well, helmet, is recognizable to citizens and crooks alike. Some people of crime alley considered him their protector, and even those who don't still recognize him. With a slowly growing unease in his gut, he manages to put a small smile on his lips.
"The name's Red Hood," he sticks a gloved hand out and feels satisfied when the kid doesn't so much as flinch. "Vigilante of Gotham."
The kid doesn't take his hand, sadly, but his eyes do widen slightly at Jason's words. Jason juts a thumb at Dick, who waves.
"This is Nightwing, my annoying friend." Dick cuts him with a sharp glare, despite the domino mask, but turns to look back at the kid.
"We're both vigilantes," he says. "But we might as well be heroes by now, with all the stuff we have to deal with."
Jason elbows him.
"Uh," the kid says, the door opening just slightly more, revealing a somewhat disgusting looking kitchen. "Okay. But you guys didn't have to come here or anything, I'm alright. Everything's okay. SO yup, no need for any vigilantes or heroes or anything. Yup."
Jason shakes his head, letting out a sigh. "Nice try kiddo," the kid's nose wrinkles up and yeah, the nickname's gonna stick. "But you can't expect us to just leave after coming all this way. Especially not with that tub of goo just sitting in your bathroom."
"Oh," the kid says, head turning to look back at the bathroom. "It's fine. I've got it figured out."
Dick's face pulls to a pinched expression, shaking his head slowly. "As much as I'd love to believe you, I can't. That stuff can't just be emptied down the drain."
The kid's own face scrunches this time. "Why not?"
Jason has a feeling this kid doesn't remember quite as much of his experience in the pit as Jason did himself. With a sudden jolt, Jason realizes this kid might not know he's dead. Great.
" It's, well," Dick looks to Jason and makes a gesture with his hands that Jason doesn't understand. Does Dick really think he knows how to deal with this situation better than him? A sudden shout from down the hall makes him jump, heading spinning to look down to the staircase. Another shout echoes from farther down, and heavy footsteps start. Despite it most likely being a couple or friends returning from somewhere, especially since the footsteps sound a little too drunk to be normal, Jason can't shake the feeling of unease that makes goosebumps spread across his arms.
"Kid, can we come in?" The door closes a bit again and Jason refrains from sighing. This is taking too long. Dick, thankfully, seems to think so too.
"We know it's not your apartment, kiddo," Nightwing says, flashing a small reassuring smile that he gives to victims on a daily basis. "We also know that you probably have no idea what's going on or where you are. You can trust us, promise."
Green eyes, still looking a little untrusting, look both of them up and down a couple times before they narrow. Then, with a grumble of something that sounds suspiciously like screw stranger danger, the door opens, and they enter the apartment.
The smell is what hits Jason first. A mix of spoiled milk, dirty socks, and Sulphur. For a brief moment, he's surrounded in green liquid again, before he blinks and he's standing in the apartment. Dick, ever the observant brother, gently squeezes his shoulder before moving through the apartment to the bathroom. Jason follows, leaving the kid sitting on one of the sagging couch cushions.
Dick stands slightly to the side, giving Jasona good view of the bathtub, old and dirty, filled with the toxic liquid. It looks almost the same as Jason remembers, only slight differences showing. The thickness, shininess, and color were all just slightly off, but it smells just as bad as Jason remembers. He glanced around the rest of the room, taking note of the liquid sloshed to the ground, the several towels lumped on the floor, and the dust that covered most of the surfaces. A cracked bar of soap sits on the sink edge, and a toothbrush sits in a cup next to it. With a huff, the two leave the bathroom and head back to the main area. Dick goes to sit down next to the kid, and Jason heads to the kitchen.
The kitchen, much like the bathroom, isn't the cleanest room. The counters were covered in a thin layer of dust, dirty dishes piled in the sink, and a can of open beans was sitting next to the microwave. The trash had obviously not been emptied in a very long time, and Jason only lifted the cover long enough to peer at the contents inside. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he closes it with a gag and moves to the cupboards. Again, he finds nothing of interest, other than a pack of half-eaten Oreos, which he puts back in their spot. He catches Dick's eye and gestures to what he can only assume is the bedroom door and waits for Dick to nod before he makes his way over. He can hear his brother and the kid talking, the exact words are lost to him as he enters the bedroom, but he thinks he hears Peter. Must be the kid's name, he huffs.
The bedroom, again, has nothing that says I work for an evil organization, and this is why. Jason goes through the drawers, pulling out laundry and tossing it back in, finding only a single edition of Playboy hidden in the socks. Nothing is hidden under the bed, or in the pillowcase, and the desk only holds pencils and a stapler that's empty. Again, a thin layer of dust has settled over everything, and now coats Jason's gloves. He lifts a hand to his comm, waits for it to click, then speaks.
"Hey, R, you said this guy works at a hotel nearby?"
"Yup," Tim answers. "It's like a 10-minute walk."
"Has he been missing shifts lately or anything? Taken vacation recently?"
Tim hums, and clacks on his computer for a minute or so. "Nope," he answers after a minute or so. "He clocked in this morning and clocked out at his normal time. Why? Something wrong?"
Jason hums, taking a step and looking out of the window and to the street below. Still empty.
"His apartment looks like it hasn't been lived in for a while."
"Well," Tim sighs. "That's not suspicious at all."
Jason snorts, shaking his head and leaving the window, turning back to the living area.
"Look into will ya? Dick's talking to the kid right now, and has probably made a plan of some sorts, so I'll talk later."
"Alright," Tim says, and there's a click of the comm turning off. Jason runs a quick hand through his hair before he's opening the door and making his way over to where Dick and the kid were sitting. Dick's expression lights up upon seeing him, and Jason suddenly has a feeling that whatever plan his older brother has devised is probably going to piss someone off.
"Hey Red," Dick greets. "Peter and I were just talking."
"Mhm," Jason hums, cutting a glance at the kid, Peter, and nods. He looks back to Dick and raises and eyebrow. "Talking about what exactly?"
"Oh, just about our good friends the Wayne's. And about how good Alfred's cooking is."
Oho. Jason might actually like this plan.
"Really now?" Jason questions, sitting on the coffee table with a grunt. "Alfred's cooking really is good, kiddo, especially his hot chocolate."
Dick nods. "Rich, creamy, chocolate goodness."
"Ya like hot chocolate kid?"
Peter nods slowly, eyes brightening slightly. Jason suddenly needs a blanket to burrito this kid into.
"Well, then," Jason shrugs. "Guess that settles it, huh. Let's go."
With another grunt, geez he really needs to stop getting old, he stands and brushes off his pants.
"Go?" the kid echoes, standing with Nightwing. "Go where?"
Jason pats down his pocket for his subway pass, finding it along with a twenty-dollar bill, and hands it Dick. Dick smiles, pats Peter's head and starts his way to the door.
"The Wayne's of course, silly," Dick says as they leave the unit, closing the door quietly behind them. The hall is silent. "You need to go and try Alfred's hot chocolate."
Peter almost trips as he hurries to follow Dick, Jason following behind. With a glance down, Jason realizes the kid does not have shoes on, and his bare feet are standing on a quite frankly disgusting carpet.
"Really kid?" he mutters, shaking his head and calling out a few words to Dick.
Twenty minutes later and the three of them are sitting in an almost empty subway car, hip to hip. Peter is sat between the two vigilantes, both of the men's large arms crossed and faces settled into a stone cold almost-glare that sharpens anytime someone gets a little too close. Peter, who was currently occupied by examining the dollar-store shark slides Jason had bought for him, hadn't seemed to notice yet. Jason counted this as a win, and that he has finally solidified the 'older brother don't mess with us' look. The only other people still left on the car is a very high looking college student, a young lady dressed in a waitress' uniform, and a middle-aged woman who held her young daughter tightly against her side.
"Why does it have a tongue sticking out?" Peter mutters, his feet flopping around enough for Jason to see that yes, in fact, the slipper does depict a pink tongue sticking out of rows of sharp teeth.
"Something wrong with that, kid?" Jason grunts out quietly, noticing just how large his combat boots seem sitting next to Peter's own feet. The kid really is small, and Jason idly thinks about the possibility of malnourishment.
"Sharks don't have tongues that can stick out of their mouths," Peter answers back, rolling his ankle back and forth to examine both sides of the shoes. "Their tongues are called basihyal, which really isn't a tongue at all, and it's on the bottom of their mouth. It can't stick out of their mouth."
Jason sighs, an exasperated hand running over his face as he realizes he has brought another Damian into the house, and smiles. At least he knows the two will be able to bond over something.
"Don't worry, kiddo," he raises and hand to ruffle Peter's now dry hair, which has curled and poofed to its maximum. "Those people in design probably just didn't do their research."
Peter only shrugs.
A few minutes later, the three of them are hopping out of the taxi they hailed for after leaving the subway and are making their way down a dark street. For safety's sake, they made the taxi drive almost 5 miles past the manor, with many turns in between. But now, they had to retrace those steps, as exhausting as it was.
The manor's entry and kitchen were lit when they approached, and Jason grinned as he knew that Alfred had already risen for the day and was probably preparing breakfast. Meaning he would also be the one to answer the door, and not possibly Bruce, which settled a weight off Jason's shoulders. He felt much more comfortable dropping a random kid off into Alfred's arms. The butler wouldn't question it, not until later at least, and it's Alfred. Everyone likes Alfred. Bruce, as great as he was, was admittedly intimidating. Not that Jason isn't confident Peter wouldn't be able to handle it, after all, the kid handled two vigilantes knocking on his door at God who knows o'clock. And whatever he went through before they got there.
He just doesn't want Bruce scaring the kid off before he even stepped foot into the house.
When Alfred opens the door to them, his eyes widen, and his mouth opens but closes the minute he sees Peter it closes again. The warmth of the manor is rolling out in waves through the open door, cutting gently through the cold morning air and bringing the smell of soft Belgium waffles to Jason's nose. The butler straightens his body out, nodding his head in greeting.
"Good morning, Master Hood and Master Wing," he greets, British accent thick as ever. "How may I help the three of you this fine morning?"
"Hello Alfred," Dick greets, obviously keeping his smile stuffed down, but failing. "We've collected a stray we thought you might be interested in."
Peter waves and Jason snorts. Alfred looks down at Peter, expression softening, and wrinkles shallowing.
"Why hello there, young Master," Alfred nods in greeting again. "Are you per chance hungry?"
Peter nods, arms coming to cross over his chest, each hand tightly grabbing the other's arm. Dick, seeming to notice the kid's growing anxiousness, reached forward to place a light hand on Peter's shoulder.
"It's alright Peter," he says, gently pushing Peter forward. "You'll be okay."
Peter nods, more to himself than anything, and steps in to follow Alfred as he leads him through the door and into the grand entry. Peter's shark slides squeak on the marble floor.
"Will you two be joining us for breakfast?" Alfred asks, directing Peter to take his shoes off and place them in the holder next to the door. Jason smiles but shakes his head.
"Afraid we'll have to head back home soon," he says, and Alfred nods. Peter's head shoots up and he looks at them with strangely wide eyes. Jason smiles, stepping close to ruffle the kid's hair again. "You'll see us again, kiddo, don't worry."
Dick nods, bouncing on the backs of his feet. "We'll pop in for some cookies sometime soon, alright?"
Peter nods, smiling shyly. "Bye," he says shortly, lifting a hand to wave as they turn away from the door.
"Bye kiddo, be nice to Alfred and the others alright?"
Peter nods and starts to follow Alfred; the image being cut off as the door closes. For a second, the two of them stand in silence before Dick starts to giggle. Jason sighs, smacking his brother on the head as he turns to make his way around the side of the manor.
"How angry do you think Bruce is gonna be?" Dick questions, both hands coming to rest behind his head as they walk.
"Initially? Pissed," Jason grins, the smile softening a little. "But once he realizes how cute the kid is, he'll get over it."
"He's probably not gonna be happy someone made a zombie teenager in their bathroom," Dick points out. "We're gonna have to deal with him being all sporadic and overly parental again."
Jason shrugs. "As long as he lets me get my hands on whoever put that kid in the pit, he can wrap me up in as many hugs as he wants."
Dick smiles, but says nothing more, his eyes glinting darkly.
Jason's words have double meaning of course. Whoever put the kid in the pit, whether they were the ones who killed an innocent (because Jason can't imagine a kid who knows about sharks' tongues as anything different) teenager, or the ones who raised someone from the dead at all. Jason knows that Peter might have died a natural death, but that only angers him more; someone went out and raised the soul of a teenager who should have happily been spending the afterlife with his past loved ones. Whatever happened, Jason will find the truth, and those responsible will be dealt with accordingly, Bruce's no killing rule be damned.