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raepritewrites · 2 months

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If Heather were ever to write a memoir about being a superhero, she was going to include an entire chapter about what to do when you get sucked into a portal, because it was a surprisingly frequent hazard of the job and was confusing as hell if you didn't know what you were doing.

Fortunately, she’d been through this song and dance a few times, so she started with gathering the basics. Who, what, where, how, and when?

First, who? Some c-lister villain who called himself Vibe. The team had been working on a case of break-ins where banks would be robbed through some sort of portal technology. In and out, easy as pie, with almost no trace left behind. The guy was slick she could give him that.

Nightwing had theorized the guy might have a teleport ray, judging by the tachyon readings they were getting. Further investigation, however, and a quick conversation with Flash had revealed that Vibe was a meta created from the particle accelerator explosion of Central City, which had given the speedster his own powers. It hadn't been too hard to track the guy down from there.

Second, what? Well, bad guy plus warehouse equals superhero fight. It had just been Nightwing, Superboy, and herself who went to track down and capture the meta. The rest of the squads had all been busy on other assignments, and really, how hard could it be to take this guy down with three of their heavy hitters on it?

Apparently, harder than they'd thought.

Vibe, it seemed, was just as slick at evading capture as burglary. The idea had been for Nightwing and Scarlet Spider to wear the guy out and keep him distracted until Superboy could get in a final hit. It had briefly worked, and then everything went wrong.

Scarlet probably shouldn't have antagonized Vibe so much, but it was fun winding bad guys up. She and Nightwing had come up with some good lines as they danced around the teleporter. She had so much experience fighting alongside Nightcrawler that she assumed she could guess this guy's next move without any trouble. He would zig, she would zag. She'd been... a little too confident. Her spider sense had warned her of the danger as she swung towards Vibe for one more kick to the gut, but her momentum had been too strong, and there was no avoiding the inevitable.

Vibe had realized the game they'd been playing with him and grabbed Superboy as he'd tried to sneak up from behind, flinging him over his shoulder and into her. They'd crashed into Nightwing in a pile of tangled limbs and curses.

By the time Scarlet Spider looked up, Vibe had a new portal open behind him. "As fun as this has been, I'll be taking my leave now. This earth has always been a little too hero-happy for my tastes," the man smirked and saluted them, stepping backwards into the swirl of blue and white light.

If Heather had a nickle for every time she made a very stupid last-minute decision, she and Bruce Wayne would be in the same tax bracket. This was just another five cents in her fictional bank account. She sent a webline to the ceiling, propelling her up and off of her teammates and into the portal, which promptly closed behind her.

Third question, where?

On the other side of the portal, it dawned on Heather very quickly how stupid she was as she found herself free-falling. High-rises and skyscrapers rushed past her in a blur as she struggled to orient herself.

Some part of her brain that sounded a lot like her step-father screamed at her to throw a webline, and after two desperate attempts failed to land on anything, her third try caught a gargoyle. Her arm wrenched in its socket from the abrupt change in trajectory, and she gritted her teeth to stifle the howl of agony that crawled up her throat. She looked around desperately and spotted a rooftop not far away that she could reach.

Her landing was less than ideal, tumbling head over heels before rolling to a painful stop on the tarmac. She lay for a moment to let the panic subside, panting heavily from the spasms radiating from her arm and down her torso. She stared up at a smog filled night sky and the glowing neon sign of an office building as her brain rebooted.

Once she could hear more than just her own heartbeat thundering in her ears, she took stock of her situation. While she'd torn a few muscles in her arm, the damage was minimal compared to being a smear on the sidewalk. She'd twisted her ankle when she'd landed, and it throbbed in a familiar way - not broken, but definitely sprained. Everything else seemed negligible; cuts, scrapes, and general bruises. She would deal.

She sat up slowly and frowned at the office building's sign, declaring it to be one of Wayne Enterprises' headquarters. Why Vibe had thought running to Gotham was a good idea was anyone's guess.

She checked her comm, but only received static in reply, no matter what frequency she tried. Maybe it had been damaged in the fall? Her phone worked, but had no signal at all, not even wifi. That was strange; WE had public wifi available at all there buildings. She needed to reach the team somehow to let them know her status, and that despite her best (very stupid) efforts their suspect was in the wind. She wasn't sure where the closest zeta beam was from here, but maybe she could reach Nightwing a different way.

Did Heather feel bad breaking into the department store? Yes, a little, but desperate times and all that.

She'd grabbed a pair of jeans, a belt (because of course the jeans didn't fit right, but she didn't have the luxury of time on her side to find a pair that did), and an oversized sweatshirt. She dropped a pre-paid credit card on the counter with the tags of the items she was stealing, hoping the owners wouldn't be too mad at her. She then made triple sure that all the cameras she'd covered in webbing were still technically functional -just ineffective for a few hours - and grabbed a shopping bag from the register to stuff her gear into it.

Outside the store, it had begun raining, because this was Gotham and she had Parker luck. It was only natural. After trudging through the rain for a few blocks, Heather finally hailed a cab in a more populated part of the city. The clock on the dash of the taxi read a little after four am, and the driver looked like he wasn't thrilled to have found a customer.

"I need to get to Bristol," Heather told him, trying to be short but polite.

The cabby raised an eyebrow at her, blowing smoke from his cigarette out his cracked window. "That's going to cost you, lady," he told her flatly. "If you hadn't noticed, this is the Diamond District, that's a long drive."

"If you can get me there quickly, I'll pay you double the fare in tip," Heather promised.

Both eyebrows went up at that. "You're the boss," he shrugged and pulled away from the curb.

Once they reached Bristol, Heather had the cab drop her off at the Drake Estate, a few miles from Wayne Manor. She didn't think the cab driver really cared about where this woman in ill-fitting clothes was going at the crack of dawn out in the most expensive neighborhood in Gotham. But just in case someone asked him about it later, she didn't want him saying he'd dropped the weird woman off at Brucie Wayne's mansion. Never could be too careful.

True to her word, Heather had tipped extra generously, and the cab had taken off as soon as she was out of the backseat.

She glanced down the Drake's long driveway to where their modern estate could be seen peaking out between the tall trees and frowned distastefully. Shaking off her feelings towards Tim's parents, she settled into a fast walk and headed towards Wayne Mansion in the thinning rain.

By the time she reached the front gates, the rain was just mist that was slowly being burned off by the morning sun, and she was soaked to the bone. Wiping water off her face, she buzzed the intercom and hoped Alfred wouldn't be mad at her for the early morning call.

"Wayne Residence, may I help you?" His British accent came through the intercom sounding slightly tinny.

"Good morning, I need to speak to Dick Grayson or Bruce Wayne. It's Heather Reilly."

There was a long pause, too long. "Do you have an appointment?"

Heather frowned. "No, not exactly. Listen, I know it's early, but I really need to talk to Dick or Mr. Wayne."

"Master Wayne is a very busy man, young lady," Alfred began, in a clearly dismissive voice.

"Wait, please! It's..." she frowned harder, brow furrowing as an uneasy feeling filled her gut. "It's Heather, Mr. Pennysworth. You know, Heather? Dick's friend? We've... I mean, don't you know who I am?"

"I'm afraid your name is not familiar to me, and young Master Dick no longer resides here at the manor. Good day, young lady." The intercom clicked off and Heather stood blinking at it for several seconds.

"What the actual fuck?" She finally muttered.

Alfred Pennyworth did not know who she was. He had dismissed her with the same polite but frosty way she'd seen him dismiss hopeful gold diggers who hung off of Bruce at parties. As her brain processed this information, something else occurred to her as well.

Vibe. He had said something just before he disappeared. That their earth was too hero-happy. Their earth. As if there was more than one.

"Well, shit," Heather sighed sharply, rubbing at a pounding headache that was beginning to build behind her eyes.

Apparently, Vibe wasn't just a teleporter like her fiance, and perhaps their assessment of him as a c-lister villain was a bit hasty. Because apparently the sucker could warp not just around the world, but also apparently around the freaking multiverse?! And Heather, dumbass extraordinaire, had followed him to a parallel universe. Which meant that the only way she was ever going to get home was to find the bastard again, and there was no way she'd be able to do that on her own.

Fourth question, how?

Heather felt significantly more guilty sneaking onto the Wayne Manor estate than she had breaking into the department store.

She hoped that her Dick and Bruce - if she ever saw them again - would understand that she hadn't meant to memorize the defenses around the estate. Really, it was more Bruce's fault than hers.

She'd spent so much time working for the man, digging through the batcomputer's files and doing the menial grunt work to help hone her skills, that of course at some point she'd gotten bored and started studying the layout of the grounds and where all the motion detectors were hidden. She was only human... well, kind of. Sort of. Not important right now.

She didn't know for certain that this version of Bruce Wayne would use the same layout for his home's defenses. Hell, she wasn't even certain that this version had even become Batman. Maybe the man actually was a clueless socialite in this universe. But Heather had a gut feeling that she couldn't shake.

Like, sure, maybe there were universes out there where that was true. But... could there really be a universe where Bruce Wayne had never become Batman, and yet he'd still taken in Dick, who then would coincidentally also have a falling out with the man and move to Bludhaven? The whole reason her Dick had moved to that awful city was to establish himself as Nightwing.

Heather knew she was holding onto a thin string of hope here. But if she was wrong, she might never make it back home, and that possibility was too terrifying to even consider.

Her universe had found multiple ways to kick her in the teeth and drag her down, over and over again. Yet, that universe was her home, and she was still standing. She'd gotten back up each time with the help of her family and friends. She would figure this out, and she would come home to them.

There wasn't an option for failure.

By the time she was standing in front of the massive doors of the manor, her shoulder and ankle were starting to throb in time with her heartbeat. The sun had burned off the remaining rain and she estimated it was closer to six or seven am now. Despite knowing she looked like a drowned rat, Heather attempted to have some dignity as she straightened her clothes, pushed back her slick hair, and reached up to knock.

"I'll get it, Alfred," She heard a young male voice on the other side of the door, and she had just enough time to think Tim when a seventeen year old boy with dark hair opened the door.

Heather blinked. This... was not her Tim. Her Tim was still thirteen and only recently reached her shoulder in height. Yet, the haircut, the blue eyes, the sharp features, all of it definitely screamed Tim Drake.

The boy frowned at her. "Can I help you?"

"Uh," Heather floundered for a second, unsure. She hadn't anticipated speaking to anyone other than Alfred, Dick or Bruce. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's um, it's been a rough night. My name is Heather Reilly. You're Tim, right? I'm a friend of Dick Grayson's, and I really need his help."

"You again?" Alfred was suddenly behind Tim, wearing the most severe frown she'd ever seen on the man.

It immediately made her step back a half pace and her shoulders hunch. No one, not even her own parents, could make Heather feel like a small naughty child the way Mr. Pennyworth could. There was a reason even Batman deferred to him. "I was quite firm young lady. How did you manage to get past the front gate?"

Translation: How did you avoid all of Batman's security? Heather thought, but of course they wouldn't know that she knew about any of that.

"Please, Mr. Pennyworth, if you just let me explain the situation," Heather began, trying not to wither under his stony stare.

"How do you know Dick?" Tim interrupted. He looked just as suspicious as Alfred, but there was something else in his stare, curiosity or something like it. Tim, like Bruce, was a detective and Heather could tell she'd piqued his interest.

"Dick and I are old friends," She said quickly, latching onto Tim's interest like a lifeline. "We met when we were teenagers. We, uh, had a lot in common. Listen, if Dick isn't here could I at least use your phone? I lost mine, and if I can't talk to Dick, then I need to try and call another friend."

"Are you in trouble?" Alfred asked, looking a modicum less severe than before.

"Very much so, sir,'' Heather nodded, shifting her weight only to wince as she placed too much onto her bad ankle. "Shit," she hissed, unable to keep the curse in.

"What happened?" Tim asked, opening the door wider.

"I... fell," She said lamely, scratching the back of her neck. How could she explain that it was from a height of several stories? Oh, right, she couldn't. "Twisted my ankle. It's fine, I'm a fast healer."

Tim and Alfred exchanged a long look, and only years of working with the bats helped her parse out its full meaning. They didn't trust her, clearly. They thought she might even be lying, but they weren't going to leave someone soaking wet and obviously injured outside on their doorstep.

Alfred hummed, still displeased, "You may use the phone in the library, follow me. Master Tim, would you please bring me the first aid kit?"

"Sure, Alfie," Tim sent one more scrutinizing stare her way before disappearing into what she knew was a supply closet.

She followed the butler into the library, wincing as she dripped rainwater onto the expensive rugs. He led her to an antique secretary desk with a rotary phone on it, because apparently in every universe Bruce Wayne was that kind of old money rich, and insisted she sit down on the oak desk chair. Tim reappeared shortly, carrying both a first aid kit and a towel, the latter of which Heather took gratefully as she sat her plastic bag full of gear onto the floor.

Heather carefully squeezed water out of her hair, mindful of her shoulder as Alfred looked through the kit. "If you would remove your boot, Miss Reilly, I will check your ankle."

"Oh, I mean, you don't have to-" Heather began, the towel now draped over her shoulders.

"I insist," Alfred said firmly but not unkindly.

"You might as well let him look," Tim said with a chuckle. He was leaning against one of the many floor to ceiling bookcases. "He won't take no for an answer."

"Right, I knew that," Heather muttered, shaking her head. She missed the puzzled frowns Tim and Alfred shared as she reached down and started unlacing her combat boots.

Spider-Man and her father preferred their costumes with matching boots and gloves, the web design visible from top to bottom. But she'd long ago chosen steel toed black boots and fingerless black leather gloves for herself. She liked that it made the uniform her own, along with a modified version of her father's blue hoodie - cropped, slightly darker in hue, and made of a resilient Kevlar. The Scarlet Spider silhouette was still recognizable as the one Ben Reilly once wore, but she'd made it hers, and she knew her dad would have approved.

She got the boot off and peeled off her wet sock, hissing as the fabric stuck around the swollen ankle joint before finally coming free. Of course, it was the ankle she'd broken previously, that was just her luck.

"Okay, it's a little worse than I thought," she admitted quietly as Alfred examined the injury.

"You seemed pretty confident it was just a sprain," Tim observed casually.

Bruce hasn't taught him all his tricks yet, Heather thought as she considered how to answer Tim's obviously prying question. "Not the first time," she said as she watched Alfred pull out a roll of bandages. "I'm clumsy."

Before Tim could form his next question, a voice called out, "Drake? Pennyworth?" This was followed shortly by a boy, maybe fourteen years old, coming into the library. He was also dark haired, but much tanner than Tim and his eyes were brown. There was something oddly familiar about the kid that Heather couldn't put her finger on.

"Who is this?" The boy demanded.

"Manners, Master Damian," Alfred chided him as he finished wrapping Heather's ankle. "It's best you remove your other boot as well, Miss, to give them a chance to dry out."

Heather nodded, "right, thank you, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Damian, this is Heather. She says she's a friend of Dick's," Tim explained.

"Richard has never mentioned you," Damian said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He spoke with the slightest accent, something Middle Eastern that Heather couldn't pin down, and the more she looked at his face the more she was sure she knew him from somewhere.

"We're, uh, very old friends," Heather explained awkwardly. "We haven't seen each other in a long time." Or ever, in this universe's case.

"Tt," Damian scoffed, sharing glances with Alfred and Tim. He wasn't even attempting to hide how suspicious he thought she was. It was sort of refreshing. "Richard isn't home. He's running errands with Father."

Now Heather was narrowing her eyes, her head tilting to the side as a memory came to her. Of a painting that hung in her universe's version of Wayne Manor featuring Thomas and Martha Wayne posing with their young son. Bruce was solemn, even as a child, and Damian had the same set to his jaw.

"Oh my god," she breathed as it clicked, suddenly standing as she pointed at the boy. "You're Bruce's kid. Like, his bio kid, aren't you?"

The others gave her various confused reactions. Alfred raised one eyebrow, Tim frowned, and Damian crossed his arms haughtily.

"Of course, I am," the younger boy snapped, like he thought Heather was an idiot. Which was fair. She kind of was most days, even she could admit that. "How do you not know who I am?"

"I -" She dropped her arm and rubbed her neck. "Right, yeah, that's an excellent question." She sighed. "Okay, truthfully? I am friends with Dick, but... not your Dick?" They frowned at her, and she couldn't blame them.

"Look, I'm going to level with you. I'm not from this universe. I work with Dick on my earth with a team of heroes. We were fighting this guy - Vibe? I did something monumentally stupid, and I ended up here. I didn't realize until I was already talking with Alfred that I was even in the wrong universe because my Alfred has known me for years. I worked with Batman for a while when I was a teenager, back when Dick was still Robin, and-"

"What are you talking about?" Tim interrupted her nervous ramblings. "Why do you think we know anything about Batman?" He added angrily. Damian looked ready to commit murder, and Alfred had disappeared at some point.

Heather groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, let's just cut past the song and dance, okay? I know all about Bruce, I have for years. In my universe, he gave me almost full access to the batcomputer's files. I trained with Robin in the batcave. I know about the entrance behind the grandfather clock in Bruce's study-"

Heather realized a few beats too late that was probably not the best way to break the news.

Damian was suddenly in her face with a knife at her throat pulled from seemingly nowhere. She reacted instinctively, grabbing the boy's wrist, twisting it down until he dropped the dagger. She pushed him into Tim, who'd been pulling out his collapsible bo staff. She'd turned with the intention of escaping through the library's other exit, but only made it a few strides when the sound of a shotgun being loaded stopped her dead in her tracks.

Right, that would be Alfred, she thought numbly, lifting her hands up as high as her injured shoulder would allow before dropping to her knees.

"Do not move," Alfred ordered.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"How did you disarm me so easily?" Damian demanded, stomping around to glare at her.

Heather gave him a small smile, which only made him angrier. "You remind me of my sister," she said instead of answering.

"I don't know what your game is," Tim told her, "but we're not playing. What do want with Dick?"

"First, poor word choice," Heather smirked at him over her shoulder. He glared back at her flatly, and she rolled her eyes. "My Tim has a much better sense of humor. I already told you exactly why I'm here. I'm in the wrong universe, and I need Batman and Nightwing to help me get home."

"Why do you keep insisting my father is the Batman?" Damian asked.

Heather sighed. "Look, we could keep going around and around on this all day, but I don't have that kind of time. Either call up Dick and Bruce so we can discuss this like adults, or-"

"Or what?" Alfred asked, suddenly reminding her there was a very protective butler with a gun pointed at her.

Heather pursed her lips, considering. "Why don't you take me down to the cave? You guys probably have a holding cell like my Batman does. You can keep me under lock and key until I can convince you I'm telling the truth, or until you can get someone from the League to come down who can wipe my memory if I can't."

"Or we could take you to Arkham Aslyum now," Damian suggested.

Heather took a deep breath, trying to be patient. Not like it could hold me. "It's up to you," she finally said.

Damian walked behind her so the three could share a whispered conference. Heather tried very hard not to hear them by humming under her breath, but it was a lost cause. Damian was coming up with some very creative forms of interrogation tactics, but was ultimately overruled by Tim and Alfred.

"Alright, let's go," Tim finally sighed. "Hands behind your back, and just keep in mind Alfred is a very good shot." She saw him pulling a pair of handcuffs from the corner of her eye.

"You're going to want to use something stronger than that," she told them mildly as Tim grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her back. Tim hesitated for a moment, before Damian handed him something she couldn't see. She bit back a hiss of pain as they used what felt like metal cording from a grappel gun to bind her hands, then used the remaining cord to wrap around her arms and chest.

Better, she thought as Tim and Damian pulled her to her feet, but still not enough. Ah well, I'll let them have this one.

They blindfolded her before taking her to the batcave, maybe so they could still have plausible deniability. Heather let the boys lead her to the elevator, her spider-sense keeping her aware of Alfred's shotgun aimed at her chest. When the elevator stopped, her bare feet were treading the rock of the cave's floor as the boys prodded her along, her injured ankle really resenting the cold seeping into her bones. She couldn't surpress a small shiver, suddenly aware of her still soaking wet stolen clothes that were clinging to her.

"Relax, we're not going to hurt you," Tim murmured, misinterpreting her shudder.

"Unless you give us a reason too," Damian added, less meanly than he could have.

Huh, maybe the kid wasn't as blood thirsty as he seemed. I wonder who his mom is? I don't think it's Selina. He doesn't look anything like her. Heather pondered this little mystery until she heard a metal cage door opening and she was gently pushed inside the holding cell. Someone pulled off the blindfold before they locked her in. She blinked her eyes to help them adjust to the new lighting, taking in the somewhat familiar landscape around her.

"Good to know the giant penny and t-rex are consistent in every universe," Heather observed. "Still ridiculous, but consistent."

"Master Bruce and Master Dick are on their way," Alfred said, lowering the gun slightly but not putting it away.

Heather nodded. "I figured. So... bio kid, huh?" She added, conversationally.

Damian narrowed his eyes at her, but didn't reply.

"I totally see it now," Heather admitted, taking a seat on the cot in the cage. She brought her legs up to fold beneath her, trying to get comfortable. "I thought at first that Bruce's adoption habit was worse in this universe."

"What makes you think I'm adopted?" Tim asked, taking a seat on a stool he'd brought over.

Heather blinked in surprise. "Oh, my mistake, sorry. My Tim Drake is, so I guess I assumed."

"What happened to your Tim's parents?" Tim frowned, but there was something in his expression that Heather couldn't read.

Heather pursed her lips, considering how to explain. "They were very neglectful. At first, Bruce just had emergency custody of Tim while the state investigated why he was being left alone for long periods of time with only a maid checking on him. When they realized how shitty the Drakes were, that's when he put in the paperwork."

"So they're... still alive?" Tim asked in a much quieter voice.

Heather's heart stuttered painfully. "Oh... I'm so sorry."

Tim shook his head. "Not your fault," he said it like it was something he told people a lot, which only made Heather feel worse.

"I really am sorry. This world is so different from my own," Heather said, mostly to keep the conversation moving. She'd always hated awkward silence. "My Tim is younger, and I've never even met him before." She tilted her head towards Damian. "I mean, he might exist on my earth. Who's your mom?"

Damian tutted again, which she was beginning to suspect was a habit. "Not that its any of your business, but my mother's name is Talia Al Ghul."

Heather blinked and sat forward. "I'm sorry - the daughter of the Demon's Head is your mom? One of the most dangerous women in the world, and the next leader of the League of Assasins?"

Damian gave her a haughty nod. "I see my mother's reputation precedes her even in another universe."

"Okay, mental note," Heather muttered. "Interrogate Bruce when I get home to make sure he actually knows how condoms work."

Tim let out an involuntary snort and Damian's pride disappated back into disdain as he muttered something in Arabic that she was sure was unflattering.

"Alrighty, anyway," She sighed. "I'm assuming you have questions you want me to answer?"

"I am not sure what we could ask you that could prove your worthiness," Damian snapped. "You are a stranger to us."

Tim nodded reluctantly. "I've never heard Dick mention anyone like you." He picked up the plastic bag they must have brought from upstairs that had her gear in it, pulling out her mask and frowning at it. "What's with the spider webs?"

"On my earth, I'm called the Scarlet Spider," Heather explained, waiting for any hint of recognition on his face, but nothing came. "You know, ally of Spider-Man? Friend of the Avengers?"

"Who?" Damian asked.

"Whoa, okay, I didn't think our earths were that different," Heather shook her head. "Wait, if Spider-Man and the Avengers don't exist in this world, does the Justice League exist?"

"Of course," Tim and Damian answered almost in unison, then glared at each other in annoyance.

"That's a relief. So the team must exist too," Heather said, only to receive another frown.

"You mean the Teen Titans?" Tim clarified.

"No...? I mean the team. We work for the Justice League? But, like, covertly. We handle missions that the League doesn't want a lot of attention on, but that still needs a lot of skill." Heather explained, "There's me, Nightwing, Superboy, Miss Martian, Robin, Batgirl, Bumblebee, Beast Boy-"

"I only recognize some of those names," Tim admitted.

"Weird," Heather muttered.

"This is a waste of time," Damian exclaimed, "She's clearly lying, Drake, we should take care of her before she can reveal our identities to anyone."

"Let's pump the breaks on the murder, alright Shortstack?" Heather couldn't help but snap. "Does your Batman actually kill? Because that's seriously messed up."

"He does not," Alfred confirmed, giving Damian a reprimanding glare.

Damian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, muttering to himself. Tim and Alfred couldn't hear it, but Heather could perfectly. "This never would happen with Mother and Grandfather."

Tim's phone suddenly chimed at the same moment Heather heard tires crunching on the gravel outside the manor. "I'm guessing Bruce is here?" She asked Tim as he checked his phone.

"How did you-?"

"Lucky guess," Heather deflected.

Alfred finally lowered his gun and left, presumably to meet his employer and pseudo son at the door. Damian seemed to take this as an invitation to take out another dagger from some pocket and begin fiddling with it. Heather guessed this was his way of intimidating her, or it could have been a nervous habit. She didn't have the heart to tell him it was more cute than anything else.

The kid looked like he'd barely hit puberty. He reminded her of her own little brother and sister, which just made her homesick. She wanted to pull her phone out, just so she could see her photos and reassure herself that they were still out there, waiting for her, but she stopped herself from snapping her restraints. She needed this world's Batman to trust her, or she'd never get home.

"I'm assuming you're a meta human?" Tim asked her after he finished sending another text. He put his phone in his pocket so he could focus his attention on her fully.

"In a sense," Heather said reluctantly. "It's complicated."

"I have a friend who's the daughter of a demon, try me," Tim challenged.

"It's not that I'm refusing to answer the question, it's just seriously complicated," She explained. "Does this world have stable cloning technology?"

"Are you somebody's clone?"

"No- well, yes and no," She shook her head when he gave her an exasperated sigh. "Complicated! Ugh, okay, so my story starts way before I was born. On my earth there's a hero called Spider-Man. He was a regular guy who was bitten by a radioactive spider, giving him super powers."

"Usually when someone has a backstory like that, they turn to a life of crime, at least in my experience," Tim commented.

"Yeah, well, he didn't. I mean, he used his powers to win money in wrestling matches at first," Heather admitted, rolling her eyes. "He was young and dumb, don't worry about it - not important. The important thing is years later, Spider-Man gets a new rogue who called himself Jackal. The guy was crazy, but brilliant."

"We are familiar with the type," Damian commented quietly.

Heather snorted. "Trust me, I know, but unfortunately he was way less Nygma and his puzzles, and more like Crane with unethical experimentation. The guy manages to clone Spider-Man, except - plot twist - Spider-Man suddenly has a case of amnesia and he and the clone can't remember which of them is the real deal."

Tim whistled, "complicated."

"Oh trust me, tip of the iceberg," Heather complained, shaking her head. "I'll skip forward, or we'll be here for hours. The clone, he went by the name Scarlet Spider, eventually comes to a truce with Spider-Man and they become allies. In the meantime, Scarlet Spider and the woman who was once Spider-Man's fiance fall in love. Eventually, they have a kid." She shrugged as much as her restraints allowed her to.

"That was you," Damian guessed.

"Yep," Heather nodded. "Again, I'm going to skip forward for brevity's sake. I developed powers as I aged, but then suddenly one day my body freaks the fuck out. My DNA wasn't completely stable, being half human and half - er, clone slash radioactive meta slash freak lab accident." She sighed. Sometimes she couldn't believe this was her life. "My body mutated."

"It didn't kill you?" Tim asks, surprised.

"It almost did," she admits quietly. "Spider-Man saved my life. I was only nineteen."

"How old are you now?" Damian asked, almost politely.

"Almost twenty-four," Heather smiled. "My fiance, Kurt, is trying to plan a surprise party for me with my Dick Grayson's help. They're not succeeding, but it's adorable to watch so I'm letting it go for now."

"You weren't lying when you said you were close with him, were you?" Tim said, almost sounding like he was talking to himself.

"Robin was always one of my biggest heroes," Heather admitted. "When we finally met, he became one of my closest friends. He's practically my brother."

"That's why you were sure he would help you," Damian concluded.

"He's my best shot," Heather admitted as Bruce finally stepped into the cave, Dick right behind, followed by an Asian woman with short dark hair, and finally an African American teen about Tim's age.

Heather tilted her head at the woman and teen in confusion. The woman only smiled mildly and waved, while the teen mirrored her frown. Well, that's definitely new. Maybe this Bruce does have more of an adoption problem than mine.

"You got my message?" Tim asked.

"Yes. We've been watching the security cameras," Bruce muttered, eying Heather like she was one of the Riddler's newest puzzles. Which, ow.

"Hello," Heather said, giving a cheery smile despite the increase in suspicious eyes on her. "I'd get up to greet you, but..."

"Oh, this one has jokes," Dick said, coming to gently take Damian's dagger away. "That's refreshing. Last time we got someone from a parallel universe, they weren't any fun. Remember Bruce? The Stephanie doppelganger?"

"Dick," Bruce reprimanded before his eldest could go off on a tangent.

"Oh yeah, no, that one was no fun," Tim agreed, ignoring Bruce’s sigh. "This one says she's known you since you were Robin."

"Hey, I have!" Heather protested. "C'mon, we were all getting along so well. I mean, aside from the stabby child over there... but I have a feeling he's like that with most people?"

"We're trying to break him of the habit," Dick commented dryly.

"Did Damian stab her?" The black teen asked.

"Not quite," Tim shrugged. "She's fast."

"Aw, thanks Tim" Heather beamed. "That's like the nicest thing you've said to me all day. When I get home, I'll be sure to tell my Tim you were nice. Even if you do need to lighten up a little."

"What makes you think you're going anywhere?" Dick asked, but Heather couldn't hear any real threat in the words. She had a feeling this Dick had just as big of a heart as her world's.

"Look, obviously me being here is upsetting for multiple reasons. You guys love your privacy, and you hate having someone around who compromises that, I get it. Not to mention, it's probably not a good idea for someone from the wrong multiverse to stay here long term. I mean, I'm a biochemist not a theoretical physicist, but I'm assuming it's probably bad," Heather shrugged as much as her bonds allowed. "So, the way I see it is, you help me get back home, and we're all happy in the end. Right?"

"How can we trust that you're telling the truth?" Tim asked again, but she could tell Bruce was thinking it over.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Timmy," Heather told him honestly. "I mean, I could sit here all day telling you things that are true of my universe? Like, I know that Dick’s first pet was Zitka, the circus elephant. I know that my Tim basically blackmailed Batman into making him Robin. I know that my Alfred never uses cloves in his cooking because Bruce is allegic, which is why he never drinks the eggnog at the Justice League's Christmas party. Is any of that true in this universe? I don't have a clue. What I do know for certain is that you all are my only shot of getting home. If you won't help me..."

Heather swallowed, staring at nothing as the despair of that possibility hit her full force. "I'll never see my family again, and Kurt will never know what happened to me. Please, I'm begging here, help me get home."

Bruce crossed his arms and looked at the Asian woman that hadn't said a word so far. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, a little younger than this world's Dick. Heather had tried not to let it bother her, but the younger woman had been watching her intently the whole time they'd been talking. Heather couldn't help feeling like she was missing something as she watched the woman turn to Bruce and smile.

"Not lying. I trust her," She finally said.

The words were stilted in a way that normally Heather would associate with learning a new language, but the woman had a distinct Gotham accent. It almost reminded Heather of how her little sister used to talk when she'd started speech therapy, like the woman wasn't sure how to put her thoughts into spoken words.

"Okay, as much as I appreciate the vote of confidence, I have to ask - who are they?" Heather asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

"You don't have a Cassandra Cain or Duke Thomas in your world?" Dick asked.

Heather shook her head, "Doesn't ring a bell, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. Like I was saying earlier, my timeline seems a little skewed from this one. My Tim is younger, and as far as I know, my Bruce doesn't have a bio kid. It's just Dick, Tim, Babs and me around."

"What about Jason Todd?" Bruce asked quietly, and if she hadn't known another version of this man so well she might not have heard his trepidation for the answer.

"That's... I mean..." Heather blew out a somber breath. "Jason was murdered by the Joker," she admitted reluctantly. Every face in the room fell, but there was an air of recognition to the grief. Clearly, the same fate had befallen their Jason as well.

Heather continued after a moment, "That was a few years ago. Recently, he, well... came back. Things are still a little delicate, so he's been staying with me and Kurt for the time being."

"Why isn't he home with us?" Dick asked.

Heather grimaced. "You have to understand, he wasn't in his right mind. He - well, he attacked our Tim and hurt him pretty badly. They're both doing better, but Jason hasn't forgiven himself and still has things to work through, and Tim needs time to recover mentally and emotionally. We're giving them both space until if and when they're ready to be in the same room."

"Wow, what a concept," Tim deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Bruce and Dick looked uncomfortable. Heather narrowed her eyes but decided not to ask. Not her circus, not her monkeys. She could only do so much for the Wayne family in her own universe; she couldn't possibly fix an entirely different one as well. Especially when she didn't have the complete picture.

"Ya know, I kind of wish we had a version of her," Duke spoke up. "That's like the most level headed decision I've heard from someone in this family in... no, scratch that, ever."

"Don't give me too much credit," Heather smiled, but it was self-derogatory. "I've had my fair share of screw ups, too. Sometimes, you just need an outside perspective." She sighed, wishing she could rub her eyes. "Look, I get that this is a lot to ask, but I have to track down Vibe before he disappears from this world, too. I can stay right here if it makes you all feel better, but I need help finding his tachyon signature so I can catch him and make him take us home. The batcomputer is my best chance."

"Quick question," Dick lifted a hand, frowning at her. "What do you mean by 'make us feel better'?"

Heather clicked her tongue and stood up, walking to the far wall of the cage, opposite the door. She flexed her muscles, snapping the metal grappeling cord like it was dental floss. As the cord fell into a pile on the floor, she reached forward and using two fingers on each hand, bent two of the steel bars towards each other into an 'x'. She stepped back from the cage wall and put her hands behind her back, shrugging sheepishly.

"You could escape at any time, couldn't you?" Duke guessed.

Heather nodded, chewing her cheek.

"You could have broken in here without alerting anyone, gotten what you wanted, and left without a trace," Tim added. "Just like how you got passed all of the security on the grounds."

"Well, I don't know about completely leaving without a trace," Heather hedged, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm not Kurt, I can't teleport, and I don't have invisibility either."

"Hn, perhaps you could explain your powers to us in detail while we start searching for your missing rogue," Bruce said.

She didn't know this Bruce or what had happened in his life to alter it from the man she did know, but she could hear the world's greatest detective in his voice and it made the anxiety in her chest melt. They weren't going to abandon her, they were going to help.

The only question left, was when?

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raepritewrites · 4 months

Text

The Return

There were some good things that came out of Heather’s metamorphosis, despite it being one of the most painful experiences of her life… which was saying something, because she had experienced being vivisected while fully conscious. She wouldn’t recommend either of those experiences, by the way, a definite zero out of ten.

Still, at least the end results of her body mutating were beneficial. She was more durable than she was previously, her healing factor was a good bit faster, and while the fangs were annoying at times, the paralysis venom they made was infinitely useful. She could feel it collecting like a thick second kind of saliva just above the roof of her mouth throughout the day, which grossed Kurt out to no end when she explained it to him. He had fangs too, but his were for show, or so he claimed with a winning grin.

After a while, she’d figured out that if she concentrated she could use the venom on command. Once she knew how to do that, she started collecting excess venom into glass beakers before transferring it into small darts. Kurt thought it was hilarious the first time he walked in on her standing in the kitchen with the glass precariously gripped between her fangs and bottom teeth as she scrolled Instagram on her phone. When she had enough darts filled, she would load them into some wrist cuffs that Tony had gifted her. It was a lot more hygienic than biting a criminal’s neck. (Seriously, who knew where they had been?)

Another small perk of the venom her body naturally generated? Poisons, knockout gas, and paralysis formulas barely worked on her anymore. Ninety percent of the time, her body could fight off whatever it was, and she’d be up and moving again in twenty minutes tops. She still wasn’t bulletproof, but hey, she’d take what she could get.

Which was why, when the alarm system started blaring in Mount Justice and thick smoke filled her room, she didn’t panic right away even as her vision swam and she found herself collapsing to the floor.

When consciousness returned to her, the alarm was still going off, and she checked her watch. She’d taken a ten minute cat nap thanks to that gas, and she estimated that the old her probably would have been out for hours. She quickly left her quarters, checking on everyone’s rooms as she swung down the hallway. Out like a light, every one of them; even Conner, who was a lot more difficult to knock down than all of them combined. Whoever had hit the mountain knew about them, and that scared her a little.

What scared her more was finding Robin’s quarters empty.

“Shit,” She hissed, crawling along the ceiling as fast as she could, searching for the little bird.

The biggest reason she’d accepted Nightwing’s plea for her to return to the team in a mentor capacity was because of Robin. After Jason had died, they’d all spiraled in their own way, but Bruce was the worse off by far. Nightwing and Batgirl had thrown themselves into team missions, Heather had retreated from the caped life and into her secular work, but Batman… Batman was not doing well. He’d pushed away everyone, even Superman and Dick, and he’d grown reckless and more violent in his cases. Dinah had tried repeatedly to talk with Bruce about the obvious grief he was going through, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

The three of them all blamed themselves for Jason’s death, but Bruce had taken the loss of his son the hardest. He didn’t want to let himself be close to anyone else, and he was having less and less regard for his own life. Something had to change, but she, Dick, Barbara and Alfred were all unable to figure out what.

Then along came Timothy Drake.

Tim knew about them. About all of them. He’d been stalking the bats for at least two years across the rooftops of Gotham, and none of them had noticed, not even Heather. Her only explanation for that was the boy didn’t set off her spider sense. He’d never meant them any harm.

He figured out their identities a long time ago, and the only thing he’d done about it is defend their public personas in online forums and take pictures of the bats as they protected Gotham. It was clear that Jason was Tim’s favorite Robin, most of the pictures were of him. Dick tried very valiantly not to be jealous, but Heather could tell it rankled him a little.

Tim was more than just a fanboy though. He was scary smart. His computer skills rivaled Barbara, Dick, and several members of the League combined. When Tim realized something terrible had happened to Jason, he started keeping closer tabs on Bruce. He saw the dark path Batman was heading down, but unlike them, he had a solution.

And so eleven year old Tim Drake, with the biggest nerves of steel Heather had ever seen in her life, had rang Bruce’s doorbell when he knew he was at home (apparently, the Drakes were Bruce’s closest neighbors?? Who knew?) and had told Bruce in no uncertain terms that he knew he was Batman, he knew he’d lost his Robin, and he needed a new partner so here he was.

Seriously. The kid had blackmailed Batman into giving him the mantle. Heather would have been a little offended - heaven knew Dick was - if she hadn’t been so impressed. Plus, if she was being honest, she’d kind of done the same thing to Spiderman back in the day, even if in the end he’d essentially dumped her into the team and ghosted her from there as much as he could. The point was, who was she to judge?

It was obvious immediately that Tim was more than capable of taking up the title, too. The kid was small, but much like Dick at that age, he was full of surprises. He took to fighting like a fish to water, using a bo staff as his preferred weapon over even wingdings or Dick’s own escrima sticks. He wasn’t like Dick and he wasn’t Jason, that was certain, but that was okay. Tim was his own Robin, and he treated the title with so much respect it was practically religious. He followed Batman’s instructions, but he wasn’t so much of a fanboy that he couldn’t disregard an order if needed, something she could appreciate.

Heather took to the kid pretty quickly, much quicker than Dick had. From the little Tim would say about his parents she had pieced together his homelife situation, and the picture wasn’t great. His parents were… inattentive to say the least. The Drakes seemed more interested in globe trotting and growing their business than being home with their son. While Heather had been able to rely on her mom being home every night, she could still understand how lonely Tim must have been. Growing up in a giant cold mansion alone for weeks at a time… that sounded like a nightmare to her.

After several long talks between herself, Dick and Dinah, her friend had finally come around to the idea of someone else taking on his old moniker. The anger that had initially accompanied Jason ‘stealing’ Robin away had finally melted into a bittersweet feeling for Dick. On the one hand, he was still mad at Bruce for not asking his permission, but he was finally able to admit that Jason had been a worthy successor. Too late to actually tell the boy that in person, but at least now Dick could be a better brother to Tim than he had been to Jason.

When Dick had asked her to return to help the team, but especially Robin, she couldn’t say no. The kid had seen how much Bruce was drowning, and pulled the man back from the deep end. She was grateful to him for that, but he was also just genuinely fun to work with. It helped ease some of the ache that still lingered around Jason’s memory, and made it a little easier every time she visited the manor.

Now, Tim was missing, all the rest of the team were either out on a mission or knocked unconscious, and judging by the static in her earpiece, the comms were down. She’d be damned if she let something happen to that kid on her watch.

She resisted the urge to call out his name as she ran through the mountain, just in case the kid was holed up somewhere hiding from whoever or whatever had done this. She just prayed this wasn’t another Tornado family reunion, that had been a nightmare she never wanted to repeat.

When Heather finally skidded around the corner of the gym, her heart caught in her throat. “Robin!”

The boy wonder was pinned to the wall at the neck by a man wearing combat boots, cargo pants, a leather jacket, and a bright red full face helmet. There were guns sticking out from holsters under the jacket and he was holding a wicked looking knife to Robin’s neck. The boy had clearly already been fighting off his attacker for a while, blood leaking from a cut above his right eyebrow, and while one arm was desperately grasping at the man’s giant hand so he could draw in a full breath, his left arm hung limply at his side.

Scarlet Spider moved on instinct, webbing flinging out to grab the intruder by the back of his jacket and yanking him away from Robin who fell limply to the floor with a cry of pain. The attacker looked up at her as he rolled from the floor back to his feet smoothly, slicing the webbing off of him in one movement. “You should still be asleep, little spider,” his modulated voice sent a shiver down her spine, but only for a moment.

"What can I say? I'm a light sleeper," She snapped, lunging for him.

The man backflipped away, smoother than someone his size should have been able to, then made a wide slash at her with the knife. She jumped back, grabbed his still extended wrist and twisted until the knife clattered to the ground, kicking it well out of reach.

She saw Robin slowly trying to rise to his feet from the corner of her eye and realized he was trying to help. Sweet, brave, dumb boy, he really is a bat, she thought just as the attacker broke out of her hold, kicking her in the chest and sending her flying back. She scrambled to her feet and dove for the attacker as he turned his attention back to Tim.

"Robin, run!" Scarlet Spider snapped, wrapping her arms around the man's thick arms and torso.

"That's right, Robin. Run away like the fraud you are," the man taunted, trying and failing to break her hold on him. "You never had a chance."

"Shut up!" Robin said, but his voice warbled. He leaned against the wall, clutching his clearly dislocated arm and glared at his attacker.

"Poor little replacement just can't cut it," the man continued, planting his feet and flipping Scarlet Spider over his head. She twisted in mid air to land her feet, skidding back on the concrete for a few seconds before resuming her fight stance.

"Leave him alone!" She demanded. Every big sister instinct she had was screaming at her to get Tim out of there. "Pick on someone your own size, you bastard."

"Big words coming from someone who lets child soldiers fight their battle for them," he mocked, reaching for his guns only for her to web them straight out of their holsters and into her own hands. She removed the magazines and dropped them to the ground.

"Robin has the right to fight for what he believes in as much as any of us," she shot back, keeping herself between Tim and the assailant. "You're the asshole who broke in here and specifically targeted him."

"He shouldn't be here!" The man yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Tim. "He doesn't deserve to wear those colors. He's. Not. A. Robin." He grit out, reaching for something in the pocket of his pants, but Heather had had enough.

She jumped forward and tackled him to the ground, using more of her enhanced strength than she normally would as he fought to free himself from her grasp. For several tense seconds, the two traded punches as they rolled across the floor. Eventually, she gained the upper hand, and had him pinned beneath her. She kept his arms locked above his head even as he bucked and writhed like a wild horse.

"I don't normally like to do this," she grunted, tightening her grip. "But for you? I'll gladly make an exception." She opened her mouth wide, venom already dripping and sunk her fangs into the small sliver of skin visible between his helmet and armored shirt.

It took less than thirty seconds for his body to go limp, but she didn't let go for several more, not trusting him to not have another trick up his sleeve. Finally, she released her hold and sat back, breathing out a sigh of relief. She looked down at his lolling head and reached for the edge of his helmet, only for her spidersense to flare up. “What kind of psycho puts something that dangerous right next to his face?” She muttered, pulling away from the helmet. That was a puzzle she’d sort out later.

A painful groan snapped her attention back to Robin, who was struggling to stay upright. “Kid! You okay?” She was at his side in seconds, gently taking his chin so she could examine the cut above his eye. She was careful of the bruising that had started to appear on the boy’s neck as she tilted his head back and forth. “That doesn’t look too deep. Head wounds just love to bleed. What’s wrong with your arm?”

Tim grimaced. “He popped it out of the socket. Wrist is on fire. Sprained, I think.” He spoke in terse short sentences laced with pain, but he was still standing and she gave him credit for that.

“Any other injuries?” Heather asked, lightly running her fingers over the swollen skin of his wrist, gently prodding for broken bones. Tim hissed and she murmured her apologies.

“Head hurts. Pistol whipped,” He reported reluctantly.

Heather knew if he was in a different frame of mind, he never would have admitted to that one. Like all the bats, he was notorious for skimping on injury reports. It used to drive her up a wall. It wasn’t like they were extra durable the way she was - they were more human than most of the league and the team combined. Sometimes, it was like they had begun to believe their own made up rumors, that the bat clan was something other. Which, as Heather well knew, they were not. They could bleed, they could break, they could even die.

Heather swallowed quickly against the deja vu as she saw a vision of a different Robin in front of her for a moment. She was thankful for her mask as she blinked quickly. “Right, let’s get you to medical. He’ll be out long enough for me to send a distress signal to the League and get someone here to help.”

“Is everyone else okay?” Tim asked, watching Heather quickly web his assailant to the floor.

“Unconscious, but otherwise fine. You were targeted specifically. The question is, why?” Heather wondered aloud, waiting until Tim’s brow scrunched in thought before quickly popping his shoulder back into place.

The boy howled, crumpling against her. She gripped him in a tight hug and ran her fingers through his hair. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! You know it goes in easier if you aren’t thinking about it. Sorry Timmy, sorry,” she hushed him gently as she felt a few tears hit her shoulder. “You did so good, Tim. I’m so proud of you.”

“Why?” Tim sniffed. “Why would you be proud of a pathetic replacement? Jason would have had that guy knocked out and cuffed in seconds. I couldn’t even hold out more than twenty minutes. He’s right - I’ll never be worthy of the title.”

“Hey!” She pulled back enough to meet Tim’s eyes even through their masks. “None of that. Do not ever think you aren’t worthy. You’re more than capable of being Robin. You are a good Robin, maybe better than even Dick was,” she admitted.

“But-”

“Are you really going to let the likes of him tell you whether you should have the mantle?” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the still knocked out assailant. “You’re smarter than that, Tim. Don’t be like me, kid. I spent too many years feeling unworthy of taking up Dad’s mantle, hiding behind the name Black Widow, and that wasn’t even mine either. I finally realized that my Dad would have wanted me to be the Scarlet Spider, and if he were still here I know he’d be proud. Jason would be proud of you Tim, do not let anyone tell you different not even yourself. You got it?”

Tim sniffed once and nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, okay,” he said, with about as much enthusiasm as he would have if she’d told him to do push ups.

Heather sighed and gave him a small smile. “We’ll work on that confidence together, yeah? Come on, let’s get you to med.”

It took very little time to get Tim set with some basic first aid. An xray showed his wrist was sprained, not broken, and only required some wrapping and an IV for fluids and light pain meds. Heather had found bruises all across the boys body that he had failed to mention. She vowed to herself to have a team meeting ASAP on honesty in all things - especially field injuries.

Once she didn’t have Tim to worry about as he fell into a light sleep, she was able to overcome the jamming signal that the assailant had used. She would have to discuss with Batman the Mountain’s security measures. Something about the attack rubbed her the wrong way, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was.

“Mount Justice to the League, this is Scarlet Spider. The mountain was infiltrated and the team was attacked. Requesting backup,” Heather waited impatiently for someone up on the satellite to answer her, although it actually only took a few seconds.

“Batman here, status?”

“The team was knocked unconscious with some sort of gas, even Superboy. Robin was specifically singled out and attacked by an assailant currently in custody. I need you, Martian Manhunter, and possibly one other Leaguer to assist.”

There was a palpable pause. “Robin was attacked?”

Heather could hear Bruce under Batman’s terse question, the parental worry only obvious to someone who knew him well. “He’s stable. Dislocated arm, laceration above his eye, light head injury, bruising all over his body from the fight… he did good, Batman. You should be proud. I only had to intervene at the very end after I regained consciousness,” she added.

Another pause. “That’s good to know. We’ll be down shortly. I’ll bring Black Canary and one of the lanterns as well.”

“I’ll have the assailant in holding. Scarlet Spider out.”

Heather rolled her neck and sighed. She knew Batman would want a more thorough report later, but for now she had a would be assassin to move to interrogation. Normally, suspects would be taken straight to the police, or possibly the satillite if they were big enough threats for interrogation. But this was personal, and Heather would be damned if she let the League take charge of what was a team matter, and she knew Dick would agree with her.

She found the suspect right where she’d left him, cocooned to the floor. She hoped the Manhunter would be able to remove the helmet without harming them or the suspect. Well, if the suspect got a little hurt, Heather wouldn’t have minded.

She knew that was cold, she knew it wasn’t very heroic. However, all she could think of was how easily Bruce could have had to bury another son today had she not gotten there in time.

She stretched out her spidersense as far as she could, sensing for danger or ill-intent, but there was nothing. The man’s chest rose and fell evenly in drug induced sleep, muscles lax. Still, she stayed on her toes as she lifted the man over her shoulder and carried him to an interrogation room. Once he was in a metal chair, she gave him another layer of webbing to anchor him in place. He hadn’t seemed to possess super strength, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

In short order, Dinah and J’onn appeared.

“Are you alright?” Black Canary asked, eyeing their suspect with barely disguised disgust. All the Leaguers were protective of the team in one way or another, but the Robins held a special place, especially for the original members like Dinah.

Heather shrugged. “Not a scratch on me. I’m assuming Batman is with Robin?”

“Indeed,” J’onn replied. “Green Lantern is scanning the cave for clues. We’ve already checked on the others. They show no adverse affects from the gas that was used on them. It was only flooded into the private quarters and a few of the public spaces, but the gym where Robin was held no traces of the gas. You’re initial assessment appears correct. Robin was the target.”

“They knew enough to get into the mountain’s security and how the airvents flow to distribute the drug,” Black Canary said thoughtfully, leaning against the metal table that Heather had moved to the side.

“But they didn’t know the gas wouldn’t work well on me,” Scarlet Spider added. “Who could have that much knowledge about us? Who would go through all this trouble just to attack Robin here, rather than in Gotham?”

“Maybe they wanted Robin isolated from Batman,” Canary suggested.

“But why Robin?” Heather asked again, feeling at a loss.

“Perhaps we should ask him,” Manhunter suggested. “He is awake, though very good at masking it. I almost did not sense his change in brain activity.”

The assailant had the nerve to chuckle, lifting his chin from his chest. “Good as ever Manhunter. Couldn’t ever get anything passed you.”

“You act as though we have met before,” Manhunter said, his tone flat.

“Haven’t we?” The man turned towards Canary and Spider. “Black Canary, lovely as ever.”

“Who are you?” Canary demanded, making a move like she was going to remove his helmet, only for Scarlet Spider’s hands to catch her own.

“His helmet is booby trapped,” She explained when the older woman gave her a raised eyebrow. She released her grip and Canary stepped back thoughtfully. “That’s part of the reason I asked for Martian Manhunter. I thought he might be able to remove the helmet without anyone getting hurt.”

“You always did have a bleeding heart, Black Widow… or is it Scarlet Spider now? I can never keep up with your latest identity crisis,” The man said dryly, knowingly.

None of them outwardly reacted, but Heather felt her heart skip a beat. This man knew how to access the mountain, knew how to knock out even a Super, he knew she’d had a prior codename and that she’d struggled with accepting it.

There’s no way he heard me talking with Robin. I mean, he was unconscious, and I was speaking too softly to be overheard, She thought and turned to Martian Manhunter who mentally linked her with Canary so they could discuss how to handle this.

Maybe we should wait for Batman to conduct this interview, Canary thought as they watched their captive struggle in his sticky prison.

That could be a while, Scarlet Spider replied. He won’t want to leave Robin’s side.

I agree, we can handle this and inform Batman of the results later, Manhunter answered.

As if he’s not going to be watching the security monitors, Black Canary thought with a snort. Manhunter, can you phase the helmet off? I wanna see this guy’s face.

J’onn floated forward and placed his hands on either side of the red helmet.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. We’ll all go sky high,” the man said in a singsong voice that struck Heather as strangely familiar, although she couldn’t say why.

The Martian didn’t reply, merely phased the helmet off completely intact, revealing the explosives rigged into the bottom of the equipment. That wasn’t what Heather was focused on however. Tan skin, sharp jawline, black curls with a shock of white hair right at his temple, eyes hidden by a domino mask, but Heather would know that face anywhere.

“What the fuck?” Heather breathed, stumbling back a step. “Jason?!”

Dinah and J’onn both looked equally stunned. For a moment, time almost stood still, then someone pressed fast forward.

“Is it really him? Can you check, J’onn?” Dinah asked at the same moment Heather rushed forward and cupped his face in her hands.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” Jason spat, trying to wrench himself from her grip but she wouldn’t let him get far.

Keeping one almost bruising grip on his chin, Heather used the other to pull off his mask. His eyes were a bright toxic green, not the clear blue she remembered, and for a moment she doubted. Then he spat in her face to try and get her to let go, and she felt her heart shatter and reform a thousand times in her chest. Ignoring J’onn and Dinah’s protests, she reached up and removed her own mask so they could meet eye to eye.

“You’re fucking nasty,” she said, voice warbling with tears. “I can’t believe it’s you, Jason.”

He grit his teeth, struggling to pull away. “Let me go, bitch!”

“I am never letting you go again, brat,” She countered, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “I don’t know what happened to you, or why you’re so angry, but I am never letting go. Do you hear me? I had to say goodbye to you once - I won’t do it again.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Dinah demanded.

“He has been exposed to Lazerus waters, it has made many of his memories hazy or tainted by hatred,” J’onn said, his eyes glowing as he concentrated. “From what I can glean, he…” the Martian hesitated before continuing, “he awoke in his coffin and dug himself free, then wandered for some time in a vegetative state. His next clear memory is of a woman of Arabian descent taking him somewhere, and then being thrown into one of the pits.”

Heather pulled back from Jason and looked at Dinah in dawning horror.

“Talia!” “Ra’s Al Ghul!” They exclaimed in unison.

“No wonder your brain is all scrambled,” Heather said, turning back to Jason, who suddenly looked less angry and more confused. “If you weren’t mentally well when you got dumped in a pit, it would only get worse with exposure to Lazerus waters. The pit revives the body, but it causes extreme psychological damage if your mind isn’t completely whole.”

“How would you know?” Jason demanded.

“What did you think I was doing during those long nights when there were no cases to work on down in the cave?” Heather asked. “Once my assignments were completed, I read up on old cases. I basically read the whole databank in the batcomputer; anything I could get my hands on, including all of Bruce’s info on Lazerus waters and the League of Assasins.”

“And what right did Talia have bringing you to Nanda Parbat in that mental state instead of bringing you home?” Dinah said indignantly.

“She -” Jason was blinking sleepily, and Heather saw that J’onn was working overtime to repair his damaged memories. “She was trying to help.”

“She kidnapped you!” Dinah retorted. “She literally kidnapped a minor. She may have had good intentions, but she of all people should have known what a terrible idea it would be to put someone in your mental state into a pit.”

"I swear to god, next time I see her, I'll punch her in the face. I don't care how fond of her Bruce is or where she stands with her father, she had no right to put us all through this," Heather vowed, running her fingers through Jason's hair absently. "If she found you like that, she should have brought you home!"

"You - you didn't care that I was gone," Jason argued weakly, his eyes now closer to their original color than before.

J'onn shook his head as his eyes stopped glowing. "I don't want to push too much too fast. It may do more harm than good, but I've done my best for now to help him remember his past and curb the influence of the Pit on his memories," he explained quietly to Dinah as Heather crouched down to eye level with her long lost brother.

"Jason, I - losing you nearly broke me," she whispered fiercely, eyes shining. "That night that Bruce brought you home? I don't know how I survived it. Sometimes it still feels like a part of me died too. I'm not the only one either." She swallowed thickly. "Nothing has been the same since. Dick, Babs, Alfred and I have been a mess. And Bruce is-"

"Don't you dare talk about that asshole right now!" Jason snapped, even as his own eyes grew red and glittery.

"You can't blame only him for what happened," Heather protested, shaking her head. "It was all our fault, and mine most of all. I should have been able to stop you from leaving the cave. I should have been able to find you! I-"

"I don't blame you for my death, Heather," Jason rolled his eyes.

She frowned. "How could you not-?"

"I accept that you couldn't get there in time," he interrupted impatiently. "I accept that I made a bad decision, and I paid for it. What I can't accept is why the fuck the Joker is still alive?!"

Understanding dawned in her eyes, then regret. "I… Jason…" She turned and looked at Black Canary and Martian Manhunter. "I need you guys to give us some space for a few minutes."

The Leaguers exchanged doubtful glances.

"Please, I promise we're good here it's just-" Heather couldn't hold their gaze. "I made a promise to never discuss this, but Jason needs to hear this now, and I can't wait for permission. I'll call you back when we're done."

Dinah considered her for a moment before relenting and J'onn followed her lead. Once the interrogation room had just the two of them, Heather turned purposefully to the security cameras, arms crossed. "I know you're listening to this Bruce, and I know what I promised, but this can't wait for a family meeting. I would do this regardless of what you said anyway."

She grabbed the other chair she'd shoved to the side and put it in front of Jason's, sitting down heavily. "I'm sorry you're still ah stuck here," she motioned at her webbing keeping him in place. "But given what happened earlier with Robin, and what I have to tell you, I think it's for the best to leave it be for the moment."

Jason rolled his eyes, but he'd stopped trying to break free a while ago. "Nothing you could tell me is going to change how I feel. The Joker should be dead. Not for me, but for every other single innocent life he's ruined."

"He did," Heather said flatly.

Jason blinked. "What are you talking about? I'm not fucking stupid. First thing I checked once I came back to my senses was to look into the bastard, and I know he's in goddamn Arkham!"

"Yes, currently he is," She agreed. "But the Joker did die." She scrubbed at her face roughly, looking suddenly ten years older. "Nightwing killed him. He found him, beat the shit out of him, and I- I watched it happen and did nothing to stop it."

Jason's jaw worked furiously for a few moments, emotions warring on his features. "I don't- I don't understand-" he finally managed hoarsely.

Heather leaned forward on her elbows, her face earnest. "Taking a life changes you. It kills a part of you that you can never get back."

"How would you know?" He scoffed.

"Three people have died directly because of me," She said quietly. "My father, my classmate, and you. Those deaths broke me. They took something from me, and I've had to stitch myself back together every time it happened, but I've never been the same after. When I saw Dick's face after that piece of shit stopped breathing… I knew he was different now too, and I-" tears were pouring down her face now but she made herself continue. "I couldn't let Dick live with that guilt. I'm so sorry, but I couldn't do it, I'm not strong enough."

"What did you do?" He demanded, eyes flaring toxic green again.

"Batman had gotten there and pulled Nightwing off the body, and I just- instinct just took over. I did CPR," she sobbed, gripping her bowed head, "and I hated myself every second of it, but I couldn't bear seeing Dick look like that."

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