In the Danny is Damian’s brother trope what if instead of Damian not telling the family about Danny wasn’t because of grief or shame or any of the more commonly used reasons for his silence. What if it was because he heard about how his father talked about Jason after his death, focusing and exaggerating the negative. That he was violent, angry, never listened to orders but in some iterations and popular fanon is that Jason was a cheerful and studious Robin.
What if while compiling info and researching the former robins during his tumultuous introduction he saw what kind of robin Jason was, good with kids and victims. Talking about his favorite books while on patrol and similar. Reminding Damian of his most Beloved brother.
Then he finds out about how Bruce talked about Jason after he died. Using him as an example as what not to do, erasing his good traits and just using him as a cautionary tale of what happens when you don’t follow orders. Just like what Ra’s said about Danny.
So he didn’t tell the family, not out of guilt or grief. But because his father stripped away Jason’s positive traits after death, the son he chose, adopted and loved. Who when he failed because he was a child led astray by his mother. What would he do to his brother, who loved the stars and excelled in stealth, who was quite in his kills but had no lust for killing.
Whether or not Bruce would do this to Danny’s memory doesn’t matter. B’s actions are gonna affect how Damian views his father even years after the initial actions. Because Damian will protect his brothers memory from being twisted even by their father.
@obvious-bot-is-obvious wait for real? This adds even more angst. Yum!
This!!! That’s could be a reason as to why Damian is so continuously antagonistic to Tim! But I have more thoughts now!!!!
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“Todd how do you not find it distasteful?”
Jason looked up from his book at the kid who hadn’t even looked at him since arriving, “what do I not find ‘distasteful’?”
“How this farce of a ‘family’ treats the memory of the dead? You may have been resurrected, but their disrespect of your past even still is heinous.”
Marking the page and setting the book down on his lap, Jason took a deep breath willing the Lazarus pit to the back of his head. What ever bothered the kid so much to come to him out of anyone in the manor must mean something, “What are you on about kid?”
“Drake,” Damian spat like it was nasty on his toung, “ spoke of you as if you were some usurper to the greatness of Grayson, that you were a horrible Robin. How Father,” he spoke the title with the same amount of venom, “acted as if you were some delinquent he was forced to leash, who died during an attempt on your life at the hands of your birth mother and a mad man. How they treat you death as temporary it may have been as your fault for being a failure instead of…” Damian paused.
If Jason didn’t know how prideful Damian was how closed off he was he would think Damian was holding back tears.
“Instead of a child trusting his mother to do right by him.”
Oh shit those were tears. Damian and him had hardly interacted for the month Damian was here. What made Damian care so much about someone he didn’t know… unless it wasn’t about Jason or at least not entirely.
Trying to sound as soft and understanding as he could Jason asked, “Damian what is this really about? You were raised by Ra’s and Talia I doubt they taught you about respecting the dead. So what are you actually talking about?”
Damian seemed to pause emotions flickering across his face as he thought about what he was going to say.
“Swear on your life that what I say will never be told to anyone else.”
Well not what Jason was expecting but like hell he was gonna discourage the kid from actually expressing himself. “I swear on my life Damian, nothing will leave this room and it’ll stay between us.”
Damian nodded and stiffly took a seat on an armchair near the couch Jason was sitting on.
It took Damian a moment to start speaking, in a quiet voice so different from the one he used as he declared himself the blood son, “I had a twin brother-“
No other sentece could metaphorically knock Jason on his ass like that one did.
“-the two of us were given the honor of watching grandfather rejuvenate himself in the Lazarus Pit, mother… Danyal… and I were farther away from the pits incase grandfather resurfaced with madness. He came out screaming, he killed the servants at the edge of the pit then came at us. Guards attempted to pull the three of us back but grandfather already had Danyal by the throat. I tried to get to him but the guards held me back, and I watched. I watched as He held him up and choked him before slamming him the the floor. And began beating him.
“I don’t know how long it took for grandfather to stop. For Danyal to stop fighting back. And mother did nothing. Just watched with indifference. Grandfather left to clean himself of the blood. Mother put my brother in the pit to heal him. He sank into the water.
He didn’t come back out.”
Jason and Damian sat in silence.
“Grandfather said he was weak, that he couldn’t fight back against him was disgraceful, that the pit took as a sacrifice, so at least he was useful. Mother said he cared too much about his flights of fancy than training, that he was unfocused, and wouldn’t have survived much longer, he was a failure in every aspect and that I should be nothing like him.
“But he learned faster than I was. He was creative, solving problems quicker and in a different fashion each time, he loved the stars and we would climb to the rooftops together and he would tell me the stories of the stars, he gave scraps of meat to the vultures he encountered on the roofs. He knew more languages than I do. He could hide in the shadows better than anyone I knew, he killed without mercy but was never casually violent. In quiet moments he was gentle, gentle to the birds at are window, gentle with me. He excelled at everything he did and Mother wiped it all away, Grandfather said he was undeserving of the Al Ghul name.”
Jason connected the dots the way Bruce, Dick, and everyone else treated him and his death.
Only useful as a sacrifice to the pits.
A soldier to Batman’s crusade.
Jason moved to crouch in front of where Damian sat. Telegraphing his movements as he pulled Damian into his lap.
“Your brother, Danyal, right? He sounds wonderful.”
Damian sobbed, a quiet strangled sound proceeded by ugly wet ones into Jason’s chest.
Damian was afraid that the rest of the bats would do the same thing that Ra’s and Talia did, the something the bats did to Jason.
“Thank you for telling me Damian. I won’t tell anyone about Danyal but if you ever want to talk about him more I would be honored to listen.”
Welp. This is in my brain now. For better or for worse. So here you go.
———
A little while after his conversation with Damian Jason starts standing up for himself. Not physically, but verbally. And if he’s defending someone else too, someone they don’t even know, then that’s just between him and his youngest brother.
“I was just a kid you know.” It’s an off the wall statement made after one of the increasingly more common shared patrols. And is has the rest of the Bat Clan looking at Jason in confusion. Jason, for his part, is standing by his motorcycle, looking down at the helmet he’d just pulled off with a frown.
“What?” And that’s Dick, confused, but prompting. Always wanting to be there when one of their siblings open up.
“I was just a kid,” Jason repeats, looking up from his helmet to frown at them. “I’ve heard about what you lot said about me before I came back, and I’ve heard plenty from all of you now, but before all of this—before The Joker—I was just a kid from a bad home in a bad part of town. I didn’t really care about being a vigilante. No big goal or vengeance planned like Dick Wing had when he became Robin. I was just a kid that wanted his new dad to pay love him. To pay attention to him. And since all his time and focus went into being Batman then the best idea I could think of to get that attention was to become a part of that world.
“So I did. And it worked great! At least until it didn’t.” He looked back at his helmet. “I wasn’t ever a very good Robin. Too much Crime Alley in me I guess. So when an awful guy died on my watch well—” he shrugged and met Batman’s eyes then “It didn’t matter if it was on purpose or not. Because my dad wasn’t interested in listening to my explanation. He was convinced it was a sign I was too violent. Too volatile. So I was benched. I wasn’t good enough to be Robin. Too dark. Too dangerous. Too much of a kid from Crime Alley.”
Batman-no Bruce, the cowl is off and the man looks stricken, but Jason shakes his head sharply.
“Maybe that’s not what you meant it to be. But I was fifteen. That’s how I took it. So when I found out I still had a mother out there—someone who was supposed to love me no matter what— can you really blame me for running off to meet her? Sure it was dumb, but kids do dumb things all the time! Angry and hurt kids especially. So I ran away from home to find her. And was brutally murdered for my troubles. For daring to reach out for the person who *should* have cared about me above all others.” He sighed, placing his helmet ok the handles of his bike. “Just something to keep in mind.”
“What-what brought all this on?” Tim sounded a bit lost, but he seemed better off than Bruce or Dick at least. Jason shrugged.
“Like I said. I’ve heard plenty about the things you and Bruce here said about me while I was gone. And Signal’s never been quiet about what he thought about me. So I figured I’d make sure you had your facts straight. I wasn’t some cautionary tale. Or some jerk rebel who ran off and ignored orders to cause trouble. I was just a kid.”
And with that, he turned and started upstairs, leaving a floundering family behind him. All but one. In the emotional chaos the others almost missed his their youngest darted up the stairs to fall into step beside the young crime lord. Walking close enough to brush arms.
Almost. Well. That might answer how he knew about some of the things that were said.
No one said anything about Jason's death for a week. Not in passing, not as a caution. It had been bad when they skirted around the topic before, only bringing up what he 'did wrong' when they needed a lesson taught. Now, though, it was like they couldn't look Jason in the eye.
He knew staying in the manor for so long was a bad idea. When the weekend came around, he was up at dawn. He knew Damian would be up this early, so he took a gamble and climbed to the roof.
"Hey, kid."
"Todd."
Neither spoke as the sun rose, lighting the sky first pink, then orange, the yellow, then blue. When the sky was fully covered in the blue of a new day, Jason spoke.
"I remember when I came back to Gotham," His voice was barely louder than a whisper. "I set up in Crime Alley as soon as I could, getting a safe house put together. You wanna know the first thing I did, though?"
Damian didn't ask, but he did raise an eyebrow, looking at his older brother from the corner of his eye.
"The first thing I did was sit on the roof of the clocktower and watch the sunrise."
He knew Jason was a sap at heart, but even this was a bit much in that picture. "Oh? Why?"
"It felt, I guess, like a new beginning? I don't know, really, how to explain outside of that."
"So don't." the child said.
Again, the two lapsed into silence. Again, it was Jason who broke it. "Come on, I've got a surprise for you."
Following his brother off of the roof, Damian asked, "Now? What is it?"
"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it? And, yes, now. I'm kidnapping you for the day."
"This is hardly a proper kidnapping if you're giving me the option."
"Not an option, actually," he smirked, "Let's go tell Alfred so he doesn't skin me when we come back."
"Don't ever go into the kidnapping business, Todd, you'd get caught before you could begin."
Danny's never had a grave. Not when he died in the lab. Not when he died because of his grandfather. Graves were sacred to ghosts. It was a sign that they were someone before. It was the anchor that kept them from losing themselves to their obsessions. Danny only lasted so long because of his human side acting as his anchor.
Graves, no matter the size shape, type, form, no matter if they're was a burial, a cremation, a funeral, a casket, or even just a memorial with a picture. As long as there was physical proof that someone alive was remembering the deceased, it counted.
Danny never got a grave. Not from his friends or sister who mentally won't accept that he died and still remains, in some capacity, dead. Not from his parents whether because they don't know like his adopted pair, or because they don't care like his bio mom. Not even his twin because his grandfather would have forbidden it because Danny was weak. It would not surprise him if the mere mention of him warranted punishment.
Danny knew he was unlikely to relieve a grave, not until he died a third time and hopefully stayed dead long enough for it to be acknowledged. So he could not help but gasp out loud when he felt a connection form with his soul. It was warm and it brought a sense of joy that Danny never felt before. He didn't know what it was, just that it was the cause of the happy tears streaming down his face. It wouldn't be until he flew to find Frostbite to ask about what it was that he knew that someone made a grave for him. Someone alive was acknowledging his death and remembering him. It wasn't anyone in Amity. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were the only ones who knew and they still won't face the truth so it had to be someone else.
Danny only knew one person outside of Amity that knew of him. Of his life and first death. Someone who was just introduced as the newest son of Bruce Wayne last week. His brother got out of the league and Danny plans.
I want Jason to just come home one night to find a slightly glowy Danny kneeling or floating in front of his little shrine, wistful and sad and grateful.
Danny probably didn't intend on being seen. Its still weeks, maybe even months before hes ready to see Damien. He just wanted to see his grave, follow the comforting little tugs, take in the serenity that is this display that he was is cared for. Isnt that what most ghosts would want?
It was almost instant that Danny realised someone was there.
It helped it was someone clearly death touched, guaranteed to be a ghost when they passed. And since they'd used a key, clearly it was their place.
"I didn't think anyone cared..."
The noise of surprise and confusion was the only response he got.
Well, one he knew of. If there was a physical one he didn't see it, still to in awe of the small shrine set up for him.
"Or at least no one knew who could, if they still cared..."
Jason didn't exactly know who this was, but he had a pretty good idea. "Of course someone cares," he closed and locked the door behind him. "Why would you think like that?"
The kid, Damian's age, didn't look away from the shrine he'd set up. Though, Jason noticed that the food offerings were gone. "Because it's taken this long."
Sighing, Jason went and knelt next to the kid. Comforting was always Dick's area of expertise, but Damian hadn't gone to him. Damian had come to Jason. Danyal had com to Jason.
"Did you set this up?" Danyal asked.
"Yeah,"
Danyal stood, leaving a picture on the plate. "Thank you." He turned slightly and smiled at Jason, "Thank you so much." Then, he disappeared.
Heaving a sigh, Jason stood and picked up the picture. It was of the Danyal. Though, instead of white hair and pale skin and green eyes, the boy had black hair and blue eyes and darker skin. The grin on his face matched both faces the boy seemed to have.
He opened the frame and put the picture in it before standing it back up. He needed to call Damian.
