The Batboys huddled in the living room of Wayne Manor, a silence heavier than the weight of their grief. They were still reeling from the news, still struggling to comprehend the absence of someone they loved. Dick thumbed through a photo album, his gaze lingering on each image. Jason leaned against the doorframe, shoulders slumped, regretting every harsh word ever spoken to his sister. Tim worked a case file, a desperate attempt to silence the ache within. Damian glared out the window, cursing those responsible for taking the one person—besides Cass and Duke—he’d ever tolerated. None of them were whole.
“Do… do you think she’s okay?” Damian’s voice cut through the stillness.
Jason looked up, sighed, and offered a grim reassurance. “I think so, kid. I think so.”
Damian’s glare softened, and he moved to Richard’s side, settling next to him. He glanced at a picture – the Flash and Green Arrow, covered in a sticky, pink substance, while two laughing children stood nearby.
“This happened a couple days after the Justice League found out Batman had two sidekicks,” Dick murmured, turning the page. “They said we couldn’t be any trouble, so… this happened.”
He pointed to another picture: himself, y/n, and Barbara, wearing miniature Justice League costumes. The real Justice League, in turn, wore adult-sized versions of their sidekick suits. Dick was Superman, y/n was Black Canary, and Barbara was Wonder Woman.
“We made a bet with the Justice League, and they lost. We made them our sidekicks for a day.”
“What was the bet?” Damian asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Who could make Batman smile—or laugh.”
“Didn’t you guys replace all the weapons with toys?” Jason asked, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
“And dye half the suits pink?” Tim added, chuckling softly.
The boys gathered on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, revisiting memories etched in photographs.
Alfred passed the living room, hearing their laughter as Dick recounted a hide-and-seek game where everyone forgot to look for y/n.
“We found her two hours later, asleep in a kitchen cabinet!” Dick exclaimed, his voice laced with affection.
Alfred smiled to himself and moved to check on Bruce. It was a relief to see the boys smiling, even amidst their grief. He reached Bruce’s study, played the secret notes on the piano, and opened a hidden panel. He found Bruce surrounded by coffee cups, still in his suit, hair disheveled, a storm brewing in his eyes.
“Master Bruce, what would Miss Y/N say if she were here, at this moment?” Alfred asked gently.
“Alfred, she…”
“Your daughter would tell you it’s not worth it. She would tell you that revenge isn’t the answer,” a voice interrupted.
Bruce spun around. Standing before him was Talia al Ghul, Damian’s mother.
“What do you want, Talia?”
“Beloved, I come with an offer.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll give you your daughter back—if you give me your son.”
Bruce’s mind reeled. He thought every Lazarus pit had been destroyed. Accepting the offer meant losing Damian—a sacrifice he couldn’t contemplate. But agreeing meant y/n would return, though changed, irrevocably altered.
“Father, no!” Damian shouted, sensing the dangerous bargain unfolding.
Alfred had hurried upstairs upon Talia’s arrival to alert the boys.
“Bruce, don’t,” Jason pleaded, his voice raw with emotion. “We can’t do this to her.”
Bruce looked at his sons, then back at Talia.
“I’m sorry, Talia, but Jason is right.”
“Very well, beloved. Damian. Jason.”
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It felt like I’d been walking for weeks, and I probably had. Every two or four miles, the scenery shifted. First, city streets, then a park. I didn’t mind parks. I settled on a bench, and a playground materialized before me, children appearing as if summoned by a silent wish. People arrived with pets, with lovers, with quiet smiles. I sighed. These scenes were always the worst, always a cruel reminder of what I had lost. After a while, I felt a presence beside me. I looked over and saw a girl, around fifteen, with dark, curly hair, looking at me.
“Can I help you?” I asked her, my voice hollow.
“No, not really. But you can help yourself,” she said.
“Okay… and who are you?”
“Oops, sorry. I guess you don’t recognize me. I’m Death.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
The girl who claimed to be Death started laughing, and I stared at her, dumbfounded.
“What’s so funny?!” I exclaimed, my voice trembling.
“You should’ve seen your face!” She giggled, her eyes sparkling with an unsettling amusement.
I kept staring until she stopped laughing. She sat up, turned towards me, and said, “Well, Y/N, it’s time to go. You’ve been dead long enough!”
What.