Chapter Text
Jason would kindly like to know what the hell was going on, please and thank you.
He understood what had happened up to a certain point. The Justice League was being stupid, no surprises there, and Jason had been invited to watch them get their asses handed to them, or at the very least scared shitless. He hadn’t gotten to see the former, a real tragedy, but he would treasure the expressions he caught on some of the heroes in that room for the rest of his life.
He didn’t know what they were all freaking out about. Sure, there was a creepy monster-thing in the room, but they dealt with creepy monster-things all the time, this one wasn’t particularly different.
So far so good. The cosmic ruler turned out to be less bloodthirsty than feared, a win all around.
And then the frost covering the floor, which Jason had ignored until that point, reached Jason’s boots, and he froze more than he had since the creature showed up. Which was impressive, because it was cold as fuck.
Any trepidation or worry Jason felt looking at the king, which hadn’t been much to begin with, melted away. What replaced them were feelings of joy, safety, and longing, all of which put Jason on edge, because, what the hell? Where were these feelings coming from? Was someone manipulating him? Jason would have said yes, but he’d had his emotions messed with before, and usually could tell the difference between real and artificial emotions. These felt real. These felt like his.
Which made absolutely no sense.
Jason didn’t have time to mull it over, though, because two other things happened in quick succession.
First, he inexplicably and embarrassingly let out the softest, cutest sounding little peep he had ever heard in his life. It sounded like a baby bird calling for a parent, and his body had no right or reason to be making such a noise. He covered his mouth quickly.
The second he made the noise, which had been so soft Jason didn’t even think his brothers standing near him had heard it, the king stopped what he was doing, and directed his attention to Jason.
That should have made Jason feel at least slightly wary. Instead, the joy and longing inside of him increased, and he made another peep, knowing that he was calling to the king.
That didn’t mean he understood why he was doing it, though.
The king approached him, and Jason found himself frozen. His vision started to take on a green tint, though without the usual accompanying anger.
The king reached out to Jason, and instead of backing away or shooting him, Jason leaned into the touch. It felt more comforting than anything in recent memory, and it was this that finally broke through enough to make Jason feel, though he’d never admit it, the slightest bit afraid.
The King soon picked him up, and if Jason had thought one touch was comforting, that was nothing to being in the King’s arms (probably arms; his body was confusing). It was like being surrounded by the embodiment of protection.
Jason had never felt so safe.
Jason had never felt so confused.
So unnerved.
(So scared.)
Before he could manage to convince his body to do something, anything, the Watchtower and all the heroes in it (most importantly, Jason’s brothers and sometimes-enemy-sometimes-dad) vanished.
It took Jason a moment to make out his new surroundings. For a moment, all he could see was green, to the point that he was worried he was going through another Pit Rage episode, or perhaps in the actual pit again.
But, blinking and getting a hold of his surroundings, it seemed like he wasn’t in a pit. Unless the inside of a Lazarus Pit included what honestly seemed to be a fairly normal bedroom. Jason supposed he wouldn’t know, having been rather out of it the last time he had taken a dip, but he doubted it.
There were four walls, and a collection of furniture. A dresser, a desk cluttered with papers, and a sitting chair in the corner. They all were similar in style, and honestly looked like they wouldn’t be out of place in B’s house. If Jason didn’t already know what every room of the manor looked like, he would suspect that the King had brought him there.
It wasn’t a very neat room - the desk, and even the chair were covered with loose papers, some of which had fallen onto the floor. There were no decorations of any kind that Jason could see; perhaps the owner of this room disliked clutter (though the papers would suggest otherwise) or maybe they had not lived here very long.
There were no windows, which was not helpful in determining where Jason was. There was one door, solid and dark, and it stood out against the gray walls. Which, now that Jason looked, appeared to be stone.
Wait. Was he in a castle?
All of this Jason clocked in a few seconds (thank you, Bat-awareness training). Once he felt he had a handle on his surroundings, he opened his mouth to give the King a piece of his mind.
Chiiiir-up!
That… was not the sound he intended to make.
The King hardly reacted to Jason’s noise, except to move him gently up and down (Jason refused to even think that he was being bounced). The King made some kind of noise at Jason, a soft sound that he interpreted as, “OOooOOoo-oo.” What it meant Jason didn’t know, but he felt his body relaxing.
The King took a few steps, and sat himself down in a giant bed, the largest Jason had ever seen. Jason found himself resting in the King’s lap, propped up against what could maybe be considered a knee, in an “Oh-my-god-that’s-your-knee!?-we-need-to-call-an-ambulance!” kind of way.
Jason felt a cold limb rub against his upper back, a sensation that should have made him jump but somehow only relaxed him?
Jason could really use some answers right about now. Time to see if words were working yet.
Cheep-cheep-chiiiiirp?
That was a no. Jason would resort to his favorite mode of communication, violence, if he wasn’t so comfortable. He almost felt like he could fall asleep right here, which was insane, but he felt like he was wrapped in a cloud of safety and protection, and it made it really difficult not to let his guard down.
Jason had only closed his eyes for a moment when the King nudged him awake. Jason was not a fan of that, and let him know it.
Peep-peep-chirp-chirp-peep!
Jason hoped the King knew some of those were curses.
If he did, he gave no sign of it. Instead, the King took one of his limbs, what Jason was choosing to call an arm, and held it out upside-down, “hand” cupped. As Jason watched, the empty hand started filling with… with…
Was that fucking Lazarus water!?
Oh hell no. That did it. Screw being comfy and cozy, Jason had enough experiences with that particular flavor of mountain dew, he didn’t need any more any more.
Amazingly, Jason was able to make his body protest, and squirmed around, trying to break free.
Frustratingly, it only lasted a few seconds, and a rub against his back and an “oooOOOooo,” was enough to calm him down.
The hand with the glowing Nickelodeon slime moved closer to Jason, until it was right under his nose, so close he could smell it. It smelled… well, it smelled…
Good.
Really good, actually. Like somehow someone had blended all of Alfred’s best dishes together, combined it with the smell of fresh fallen snow, and sprinkled lime juice on top.
Jason took a deep breath, getting more of the delicious scent. It was tantalizing. Before Jason knew it, he was opening his mouth.
He would swear it was just to get a better smell. But that’s not how the King interpreted it. No, the King raised his hand to Jason’s mouth, tipped it, and before Jason knew what was happening there was Lazarus water in his mouth.
Jason’s first instinct was to spit it out. He might have done so, if the taste didn’t hit him first.
It tasted at least as good as it smelled, if not better. Jason felt like a man who had been dying of thirst being given the most pure mountain water there was, and before Jason knew what he was doing he swallowed it.
Then he opened his mouth expectantly, and looked at the King, who wasted no time in pouring another small handful of green liquid into Jason.
Jason’s world narrowed down to the repeated motion of being fed, swallowing, and being fed again.
It didn’t last long, though, certainly not as long as Jason would have wanted. By his estimate he had swallowed about eight handfuls of Lazarus water before the king stopped.
Which simply wouldn’t do.
Peep-peep-peep-peep-PEEP! chirp!
So there!
The King was not persuaded by Jason’s argument, even though Jason was convinced the King knew exactly what he was trying to say, and so should have been much more afraid of Jason’s wrath.
Instead, the king scooted back on the bed a little, laying Jason down so he was lying directly on the remarkably soft mattress.
Jason’s eyelids felt heavy as he blinked. Okay, he would accept a nap break, but there better be more of that Lazarus water for him when he woke up. He informed the King of that in so many peeps as he closed his eyes and leaned his head into a pillow. Wait, was that a pillow?
Oh. No it was not. Jason was resting against the King, and oh, would you look at that, somehow the king had stretched and had wrapped around Jason on every side, boa-consitictor-style.
Hmm. Concerning. Jason would normally be very worried about now.
Meh. He could worry when he woke up. The twin pull of being safe and sated was too much to ignore, and Jason drifted off to sleep.
<hr>
Tim’s family got to work right away.
Tim himself had been messaging any contact he could think of who might be able to help. Sure, most of the heroes who could do something were already gathered, but fortunately for Tim he knew plenty of people who would never call themselves heroes. Anti-heroes, vigilantes, and a handful of outright villains. So far Tim wasn’t having much luck, but he’d only been at this for a few minutes. While he sent off his messages he watched the others in the room.
Nightwing had taken the most obvious route: calling the number on the flip phone that had been given to Batman. The man had passed the phone off to Nightwing, who had been calling the number on it repeatedly. Was that perhaps breaking the promise Batman made not ten minutes ago to the most powerful being in creation? Perhaps. But if that waking nightmare wanted to not be disturbed, it should have thought of that before kidnapping Tim’s brother.
Nightwing didn’t seem to be having much luck, however. The phone would ring four times exactly, and then go to voicemail. He had left a couple of messages, which started polite and got more and more frustrated as time went on, but there was no change. Tim suspected that the king had put the phone on silent, or perhaps left it somewhere he could not hear it.
Tim made a mental note to have Oracle take a look at it. Tim doubted that the solution would be so easy as to just have the phone tracked, but if anyone could do it Barbara could.
Batman had taken the route of attempting the summoning again. That was slow going as well, mostly because several members of the League believed the first summoning to be an overall success.
“Why mess with a good thing?” some of them said. “The king promised not to destroy our world. So that means one person gets sacrificed- goes with him. Isn’t one life worth the survival of literally everyone else on the planet? We don’t even know that he’s in danger, the king seemed to like him. He’s probably fine.”
Tim, watching, took note of everyone who voiced these opinions. They would soon find themselves no longer part of the Justice League, and their civilian identities were about to experience a series of tragic mishaps.
Perhaps, in any other scenario, Tim would agree with them, or at least consider their viewpoint. But this wasn’t any scenario. This was Tim’s brother in danger. And how dare these “heroes” try to say that they should do nothing.
Batman did not even pretend to hear the others out. He glared them down until they stammered and finally stopped talking. Then he laid it plain.
“We do not trade lives. We do not let innocents take the fall. We have no idea the intent behind the king’s actions. We will retrieve Red Hood at all costs. Am I understood?”
One foolish person chose to speak. “Innocent? Hasn’t Red Hood killed, like, many people?”
Tim added another name to his Revenge List. He caught Batman’s eye for a moment, and took the slight incline of his head as what it was - permission to go all out.
Batman turned his attention back to the crowd. “Irrelevant,” he growled.
“But-” the same guy started to speak again.
Superman, ever the life-saver, stepped in. “Hey, I think you’ve done enough work today, why don’t you go take a break in the mess hall?” The soon-to-be-ex-hero shrugged and left, along with a handful of others. Shame. Tim was looking forward to seeing how deep the hole would be once they finally stopped digging. Still, now they could focus.
“What do you want us to do, Batman?” Superman asked once the room was slightly emptier.
“Set up the ritual again,” Batman said. He looked at the other heroes in the room, staring deep at them. “Unless there are any objections?”
There were none.
“I feel that we must talk to this king again, to see his reasoning,” Wonder Woman said. “Perhaps he did not mean any harm, but he still stole one of our denizens with no explanation.”
“Yeah,” Flash added. “And what’s to stop him from coming back, and taking whoever else he wants? He needs to know that isn’t cool.”
“Exactly,” Superman nodded. “What we allow to happen to one of us, we allow to happen to all of us.”
See, Tim thought. These were heroes. He made a note to do something nice for them. Maybe he could buy their apartment buildings and lower the rent? That seemed like a nice and normal thing to do. He’d look into it once this situation was resolved.
Seeing that they were all in agreement, Batman nodded at Zatanna, who began preparing the ritual once more. It seemed that the circle of runes needed to be re-drawn, so it would take some time.
Tim and Nightwing continued with their contact attempts while Batman brooded over Zatanna, watching carefully as she set up the ritual again. Despite not being a magic expert, Tim had no doubt Batman had memorized the layout from the first time, and was prepared to correct Zatanna should the need arise.
Eventually Nightwing gave up, ending his final voicemail with, “You’d think a guy with over a dozen limbs would be able to use one of them to pick up a phone!” Huffing, he made his way closer to Tim, leaning against the wall. Tim, for his part, hadn’t moved at all since Red Hood was taken, except to examine the floor where he and the king had been. The frost had melted almost as soon as the king had left, and there were no clues to be found, unfortunately.
After Nightwing sighed for the fifth time, Tim used one hand to reach out and pat him on the shoulder, keeping his eyes on his phone and using his other hand to keep typing. “We’ll get him back,” Tim said.
Nightwing sighed a sixth time, and Tim patted him again, slightly harder, comforting him the only way he knew how. Usually it was Nightwing’s job to be reassuring. Tim was nowhere near his level, but at least he wasn’t Batman, whose go-to response was to stare unblinkingly at the upset person for several minutes, and if that didn’t work go fetch Alfred.
Tim was worried Nightwing was about to sigh for a seventh time, in which case even he might have to go get Agent A, but fortunately he didn’t.
“He was right here,” Nightwing said instead. “He was right here, in the safest possible place in the world, and now he’s gone.”
“I know,” Tim said. “We’ll get him back.”
“And I was right there,” Nightwing said, as if he couldn’t hear Tim. “I was there, and I didn’t do anything, and now he’s gone, and what if he’s hurt, or being hurt, what if he never comes back and the last thing I told him was that I thought his coffee order was basic and-”
Okay, this situation could no longer be handled with one hand. Tim put his phone in his pocket, and grabbed Nightwing’s head, forcing him to look at Tim.
“Nightwing,” he said seriously. “Perhaps you did not hear me. I said, we’ll get him back. Do you understand?”
Nightwing blinked at Tim before nodding. “Yes,” he said. “I understand.”
Tim wasn’t convinced. “Say it.”
“We’ll get him back.”
“Again.”
“We’ll get him back.”
“One more.”
“We’ll get him back!” Nightwing didn’t quite shout, but he spoke loud enough that a few heads nearby turned. Tim ignored them.
“That’s right,” Tim said. “We’re getting him back. Anything else is unacceptable. So there is no need to worry.”
Nightwing smiled for the first time since before the ritual. “Thanks, Red Robin.”
“Anytime,” Tim said, while on the inside patting himself on the back for solving an emotional crisis. He’d have to brag about this to the others later. “Now, do you need me to take over calling the king?”
“No, I got it,” Nightwing declined. “I have some choice words I’d like to say to him, actually.”
“They will have to wait,” Batman declared, having snuck up in that way of his (conveniently after all of the emotions were resolved, Tim noted). “We are ready to do the summoning again.”
Sure enough, Tim looked over to see the chalk circle set up, the remaining heroes in the room gathered around it. Tim went to join them, Nightwing following close behind. No longer would he be watching from the background. No, now he was going to be up close and personal. He shoved Green Lantern out of the way so he could have an unobstructed view.
The chanting started soon after that. Tim did not join in, not knowing the words and not wanting to mess anything up, but watched the circle carefully. It started glowing just like it had last time; however, only a few seconds later it abruptly stopped. The circle sat there, completely inactive.
“Do it again,” Batman ordered, and Zatanna shrugged and did so. Just like before, the circle glowed for about ten seconds, then cut out.
Zatanna muttered, throwing some of that powder from before into the circle before starting to chart, her words taking on a demanding and forceful tone.
This time it only glowed for five seconds before cutting out.
“Again,” Batman said, fists clenched at his side.
Zatanna looked hesitant. “Batman, I don’t think…”
“Do it,” Batman growled.
Zatanna shrugged and started to chant, right as the door to the room burst open.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!?” an angry blond man in a trench coat yelled as he stomped into the room.
Tim groaned. Ugh, John Constantine. There was a reason he hadn’t tried calling him yet. Sure, he might be more knowledgeable about the supernatural and afterlife than most people on Earth, but that was rarely worth having to deal with him. Tim had resolved to call him last, and hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
“We’re summoning the ghost king!” Flash happily explained.
Constantine shoved his way to the front of the circle. “Yes, I can bloody well see that,” he said, glancing at the runes and glaring at everyone. “My question is who in their right mind would ever think that was a good idea?”
An hour ago Tim would have felt vindicated, and he still did a little. But situations change.
“He took something from us,” Batman said, eyes narrowing. It wasn’t actually visible behind the cowl, but Tim knew.
“Well then I hate to be the one to tell you this mate, but it’s gone forever. Best to learn to live without it and be glad you got out with your life. Summoning probably wouldn’t even work, anyway.”
“We already did it once!” Flash again explained. “That’s how Red Hood was kidnapped in the first place.”
“He took a person?” Constantine asked. “No, wait, more importantly, you lemon-headed buffoons already disturbed him once? And all he did was take someone with him? You should be on your knees and thanking all your lucky stars, do you have any idea how stupid that was?”
“Do the ritual again,” Batman said to Zatanna, ignoring Constantine completely.
“No!” Constantine yelled, but Zatanna already started chanting. The circle performed its previous routine of glowing for a few seconds before going out.
Constantine breathed out a sigh of relief. “That was a close one.”
“Again,” Batman ordered.
“No!” Constantine jumped into the circle before anyone could speak, dragging his feet around and smudging the chalk, rendering the circle useless. “Bloody fools trying to get us all killed,” he muttered to himself.
Batman crossed his arms and glared at Constantine, and Tim found himself doing the same. Constantine had just found himself added to the Revenge List. When he was sure none of the runes remained Constantine looked up at them and sighed.
“Look. It’s clear that the king does not want to be disturbed. As much as I hate to admit it, this ritual is no joke, and usually only ends when it’s successful, or the caster runs out of energy. For a ghost to be able to deny it from their side means that they are incredibly powerful. Probably only the Ghost King can do it, and don’t ask me how.”
“Then how do we get Red Hood back?” Nightwing was the one to ask.
Constantine shook his head. “You don’t.”
Superman stepped in before any of the Bats could lunge at the man. “Look, is there maybe someone else we could talk to? Maybe this is all just a misunderstanding. If the Ghost King doesn’t want to be bothered, could we talk to someone else in his stead, get this all cleared up?”
Constantine wavered for a moment. “You could try talking to a member of his court. But should you? Hell no.”
“How would we go about talking to his court?” Batman asked, or perhaps more accurately, demanded.
“Did you not hear me?” Constantine snipped. “I said it’s a bad idea.” He eyed Batman for a moment and then sighed, defeated. “But since you’re going to do it anyway, I suppose I should be here to make sure you don’t do something to destroy us all.”
“Your help is appreciated,” Superman said kindly, while Costantine flipped him off.
The man moved to another part of the room, setting up a new circle, slightly smaller than the last. He muttered to himself as he did so. Most of what he said seemed to be swears directed at the people in the room.
When he finished, he ordered everyone to stand back. “And whatever you do, shut up and let me do the talking!”
He started a chant, and Tim could tell this one was slightly different than the last. The new circle began to glow, mostly white but with a hint of teal to it.
It glowed for about thirty seconds, before a beam of light shot up, and when Tim blinked the spots out of his eyes there was a young woman with red hair standing in the circle. She looked, honestly, pretty normal, and wouldn’t have been out of place on a college campus.
The woman looked as confused as Tim felt. “What…?” she asked, blinking and looking around. “Where am I? Who are you people?”
“Greetings, Advisor to the King,” Constantine said politely, seemingly not taken aback at all. Presumably he had seen weirder. “I am John Constantine of Earth-56, gathered here with assorted members of the Justice League, and I was hoping you might feel gracious enough to answer a few questions for us?”
“Earth-56?” The woman said, still sounding confused. “Justice League? What are you talking about…” she glanced down and seemed to notice the circle for the first time. “Have I been summoned?”
“Yes,” Constantine said, at least attempting to sound apologetic. “I promise we only want to ask a few questions.”
The woman muttered something to herself, and then stood up straight. “Very well. As Advisor to the King, I shall answer your questions if I can.”
“Excellent,” Constantine said. “In that case-”
“What does the Ghost King want with Red Hood?” Batman interrupted. Tim was surprised he lasted this long.
The woman in the circle tilted her head. “Red Hood? Who’s that?”
“He’s a hero,” Batman said. Someone coughed “ex-crime-lord” which he ignored. “Approximately an hour ago, the Ghost King grabbed him from this room and took him.”
“Danny was here?” the woman asked. “He’s supposed to be resting!”
Superman coughed awkwardly. “Ah, yes, well that may have been our doing. We merely wanted to make sure that the new King of the Afterlife wasn’t planning on having us join it anytime soon. You understand.”
“Um, no I don’t.” For the first time the woman looked frustrated. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Danny literally has more subjects than he knows what to do with, he’s not exactly looking for more. And if he was, all he has to do is wait. Everyone dies eventually, and he has literally all of eternity.”
That was the second time she referred to the Ghost King as Danny, and Tim wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
Superman coughed again. “You raise a good point.”
“Regardless,” Batman said. “We need to know what he has done with Red Hood, and demand that he be returned unharmed.”
“Respectfully,” Constantine tagged on at the end, with a significant look at Batman.
The woman moved her hands to her hips, and Tim got a flashback to being reprimanded by Barbara. “Look. I don’t know anything about a Red Hood. I don’t know what happened, but I know Danny wouldn’t take someone without a good reason. I’ll look into it and get back with you, alright?”
“Alright,” Constantine said quickly, speaking before anyone else could. “How should we contact you, Advisor?”
“Call me Jazz,” the Advisor to the King of the Afterlife said. “Did Danny happen to give you a phone?”
Nightwing pulled the flip phone out of his pocket and showed it to her.
“Oh good,” Jazz said. “Danny only gives those out to people he likes. Here, use it and give this number a call.”
She rattled off a phone number that Nightwing punched in. After he pushed the call button a second phone started ringing, and Jazz pulled another flip phone out of her pants pocket, glancing at it before hanging up.
“Good,” she said. “Now I have your number. I’ll call you when I’m ready to be summoned again. Do not summon me before I tell you to, got it?”
“Why not?” Nightwing asked curiously.
Jazz huffed. “Because right before you all summoned me I was about to take a bath, and I’d rather not be summoned without clothes if I can help it!”
“Ah.” Nightwing winced. “Yes, I can understand that. We won’t summon you until you say so, promise.”
“Good.” Jazz turned her attention to Constantine. “Send me back now, and I’ll see what sort of situation we’re dealing with.”
“Thank you for your help,” Superman said. “We really appreciate it, don’t we?” He looked at Batman, who said nothing, and then nudged him in the side. Batman made a grunt that could almost be interpreted as “thank you.”
“Hm,” Jazz said, scanning Batman up and down. “Failure to express gratitude. Narcissism, or simply social awkwardness? Either way, you should work on that for the sake of your interpersonal relationships.”
Batman froze, amid snickers from his colleagues. Constantine quickly chanted something, and Jazz disappeared in another burst of light.
There was silence for a moment, before Nightwing spoke. “I like her,” he declared.
“You would,” Tim teased, thinking of his preference for redheads. “Do you think we can trust her though?”
Nightwing looked over at Batman, who was currently getting berated by other members of the League. “I like to think that anyone who can call B out on his crap is someone at least worth knowing. But trust? We’ll just have to see.”
“Yeah,” Tim sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
All they could do now was wait.