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Chapter Text

All things considered, Jason felt like it had been a mostly quiet night, until that man fell out of the air and landed on the Batcave floor. Tim hadn't had enough coffee for his hands to start shaking yet, Steph hadn't glitterbombed anyone during patrol, and Dick was doing handstands again because he was a freak. 

It had been a nice deviation from Dick ribbing Tim about his new (potential) boyfriend and Steph screwing with Bruce because she loved getting him to look like he was a decade older than he was out of sheer annoyance (like that time when he had walked into the dining room to find his chair absolutely covered in Bat stickers). 

Even Alfred had told them he'd be making cookies like he always did on nights that none of them got hurt while out.

It had been fine. 

Well, it had been entirely fine, until a bright, violet purple rip in space split a line across the air several dozen feet above the floor of the Cave before widening into a twisty-looking scar shape the size of a schoolbus. With it came the sound of a loud yell, and a couple of short seconds later, a body tumbled out of the glowing tear in reality and fell hard on the cold cave floor with a heavy thump. 

Dick immediately jumped in front of Jason and Tim. Bruce pulled the mask of his Cowl over his face, and Steph, in between Jason and the Batmobile, grabbed the nearest thing she could use as a weapon: a crowbar. 

The purple tear in reality closed with an echoey zip noise, and the man who'd fallen out of it sat up with a groan. “Fucking ow,” he said through a voice modulator. 

The stranger was huge- practically as big as Bruce, and wore an armored jacket over a tight, armored undershirt. He wore loose, armored cargo pants, steel-toed boots, and had several guns strapped about his person. While the guns were noteworthy, the main flare to his ensemble was the cherry-red helmet on his head. 

“Who are you?” Bruce growled. 

The stranger cradled his own head gently, like he was checking through the metal for a concussion. “I don't have time for interrogations, B; somebody just hit me with a bitch of a spell and I do not feel great. You can yell at me later, okay?” 

Bruce narrowed his eyes. Jason couldn't blame him. 

Steph stepped forwards. “What are you doing here?” she asked. 

The man in the red helmet looked up at her and froze for a split second, before twisting around and pulling himself up into a brawling position. Quietly, dangerously, he growled, “Put down the crowbar, Stephanie.” 

Steph did not. “Fuck you,” she said. “How the hell did you get in here?” 

Helmet Man turned his head slowly, white lenses landing on Bruce, Tim, and Dick, before stopping on Jason. 

Something changed in the way he stood, and he tapped his helmet twice. Nothing happened, and he tried another sequence in another spot. “For the love of God,” he grumbled, eventually. Then, visibly distressed as he looked between Batman and Jason, let out a string of letters and numbers. 

Batman twitched. “ID?” 

Helmet Man folded his arms. “No. I gave you the key and that's all the evidence you should fucking need from me.” 

Tim raised a hand. “Hi, um. Fine, sure, you're entitled to your secrets, but I feel like we still need something? Computers can be hacked and codes can be stolen. Also, we don’t know what that one in particular means.” 

Helmet Guy spoke with an irritated but audible fondness. “Trust you to be annoyingly sensible and shit, Timmy. Fine. For the rest of you, the sequence I dropped means I'm from another reality, I'm an ally – assumin' you all aren't evil – and I would like help returning home. Also, based on Dick's mullet, I'm a few years ahead of you guys.” 

Dick folded his arms, clearly bothered by the familiarity. “How do you know who we are?” 

“Ally,” the guy repeated. “I've known my Batman and his ID since before I hit my teen years, just like you.” 

Dick glared at the nickname, and Jason tugged at his arm to get him to back down. “Were you a Robin? Are you another version of any of us?” 

“I do not exist here,” the man in the red helmet stated firmly.  

“How do you know, you brick-shaped creep?” Steph asked, pointing her crowbar. “Your counterpart might just not be in the Cave.” 

“Stephanie fucking Brown,” the guy growled, “I do not exist here. Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth?”

Steph widened her eyes, disturbed, and lowered the crowbar. “Jesus Christ, take a chill pill. How do you know who I am?” 

“Because I am an ally of my own Bat. You nerds want proof?” He pointed at Steph. "Your dad is a D-tier Riddler ripoff, and you're also Tim's heterosexual phase.” 

Tim choked and Steph snorted. Dick's eyebrows shot into his hairline, Bruce's lowered, and Jason bit back a startled laugh. “You-” Tim started, but was cut off. 

“Tim's parents,” the man continued, tilting his head in their direction, “are neglectful shits, and he's the best out of all of us with tech aside from Oracle. Dickhead lost his parents at the circus and likes to hug people, and you, Bruce, found Jason there stealing your tires to feed himself after Catherine Todd OD'd.”

Jason didn't feel like smiling anymore. He didn't really talk about that, and he didn't know who ‘Oracle' was. Maybe Oracle was what this guy’s Barbara called herself?

Bruce stepped forwards. “If that's all the same across universes,” he growled (refusing to share that they didn't have an Oracle), “how do you know your copy is dead?” 

Helmet Man folded his arms, defensive. “‘Cause. My Stephanie got a construction tool to the skull,” he gestured vaguely at Steph and the crowbar, “and has her own very nice gravestone in the cemetery. I couldn't help her. If she never flatlined here, it means a few things are different. I'm just putting pieces together.” 

Steph blinked owlishly. “Uh, I ain't dead, buddy.” 

Helmet snorted. “No, y'ain't. Hopefully you can continue to avoid that over here.” 

Tim, understandably, looked horrified. “You're saying your counterpart is dead because our Stephanie is alive? That you got beaten to death with a crowbar because she didn't?” 

Helmet Man cracked his knuckles and started glancing around the Cave. “Take from that what you will. Also, damn, this place is different; you guys have the dinosaur on the wrong wall and the penny is backwards.” 

Jason privately agreed on the penny thing – who wants to look at the tails side? – but Bruce folded his arms. “What do you suppose we do with you?” 

The guy in the red helmet shrugged. “If you fuckwits aren't going to be helpful, I'll go find Nabu myself.” 

“Who?” Steph asked. 

Bruce stared incredulously. “Dr. Fate.”

Jason's jaw dropped. “Wait, what? Hold up, man, you- You're allowed to just hit up a freakin’ god?” 

“Under these circumstances, yeah,” the guy said primly. “I've got connections, little bird, and I've dealt with him before, much to my Bruce's annoyance.” 

Bruce pulled the Cowl off with a glare. “Dr. Fate is not someone you can just call at your whim.” 

A snort came from the helmet. “He is if I'm at risk of collapsing the multiverse. Now, y’gonna let me use your fancy-ass supercomputer to call the Justice League, or do I have'ta call Constantine?” 

Bruce looked like he'd bitten into a lemon. “We'll take the Zeta.” 

“That works,” Helmet Man replied easily. He sounded like he was grinning. “Bye, nestlings,” he called back at the rest of them, walking towards the wall with the hidden portal.

Bruce slipped up behind him with a pair of cuffs as if to try and restrain him, only to be casually, smoothly dodged like the dude had seen it coming. He stayed enough out of range that Bruce couldn't grab him, but close enough that nobody could tell if it was deliberate, which meant it probably was. Bruce frowned and pulled his Cowl back on, before typing in the code to allow guest access, and then vanished into the teleport beam with their strange visitor sauntering casually in alongside him. 

Tim pressed his fingertips together like the villain in a bad action movie and stared at the wall where Bruce and the stranger had vanished. Dick grinned at him. “You're gonna spend the rest of the week trying to find out who he is, aren't you?” 

Tim narrowed his eyes, sat down at the Batcomputer, and began the process of pulling up the Watchtower security feeds. “Shush.” 

Jason glanced at Stephanie, who was staring at the crowbar she still held. While Tim and Dick bantered, he stepped up beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Y’alright, Bowery?” 

She frowned. “I don't like this.” Then, looking him in the eyes, “Or him. He bothers me.” 

Jason grinned. “Because he's lying or because he's annoying?” 

Steph hid her own smile. “Both.” 

“C'mon,” he told her. “Let's get upstairs before Tim drags us into his new stalking mission.” 

The two of them slipped quietly away and towards the stairs, Steph setting the crowbar by the Batmobile on the way.

Before long they were in the library. Jason sat on the couch and Stephanie took the short little ottoman in front of him facing away from where he sat, before shaking her hair behind her shoulders at him. Jason rolled his eyes. 

“Sooo…” he prompted, winding his hands into her hair to start untangling it. “What about him bugs you?” 

Steph took a moment to find her words as he started braiding. “He talks like you do when you feel cornered.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “He's a talker, Jase-” 

“-Wow, thanks.” 

“-But we got nothing out of him during that whole exchange. Something about his wording… I don't think he lied, necessarily, but he definitely misdirected us.” 

Jason had thought the same. The overall way he'd refused to actually say yes or no to any questions, and the way he'd enunciated his phrasing… It was careful. Practiced. It was how street kids talked to gangsters trying to recruit them, like the corner ladies talked to overly pushy clients. He talked like someone who was very carefully walking the line between being polite enough to appease a threat while still drawing a line in the sand. He talked like confirming anything was a death sentence. 

“He's comfortable enough with B to snark at him,” Steph continued, “but not enough to give him even just a first name. He knew about B's distaste for Constantine. He knew how all of us came into the family, he…” 

“He what?” Jason asked, finishing the braid and snapping a hair tie around the end. 

Steph turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide, and Jason suppressed the urge to poke the crease between her eyebrows. “He said I'm dead where he comes from. Or- Or at least implied it. He implied that- that his counterpart here is dead because I'm not, and I don't know how I feel about that.” 

Jason leaned back on the couch and folded his arms. “You don't like the idea that some kid out there is dead because you aren't.” 

“Who would?” she asked, dropping heavily down beside him on the couch. “At least he, theoretically, knew I went out. I have no clue when I apparently traded lives with whoever his doppelganger is.” 

“...Steph,” he started, carefully, “if you didn't know, it's not your fault.” 

Steph hugged her knees to her chest. “I know.” 

“Good,” Jason said, bumping his shoulder into hers. “And again, he seemed to be dancing around the topic, only vaguely painting an idea for us rather than stating a fact. Maybe you did die where he's from, but we don't know if that has anything to do with his counterpart here.” 

“Mm.” Steph leaned sideways and dropped her head on his shoulder. “Thanks.” 

Jason hugged her into his side. “Anytime, Bowery.” 

Chapter Text

"Diana," Kal complained. "I'm serious!" 

Diana offered her friend a lopsided smile. "So am I." 

Kal scowled. "I can't just tell him -- he'll laugh at me." 

"Have you ever seen him laugh?" Diana asked him. 

"No," he grumbled, folding his arms and glaring at the floor. "But he has torn prople to shreds when he thought they were being stupid before. I've seen it." He glanced up at her. "So have you."

Diana gave him a comforting smile. "Hal is not you, my friend. Neither is Arrow, or Booster." 

Kal kicked the floor like a schoolboy, almost pouting as he glanced out the window. "I know, but... I just... I want him to-" 

He was cut off as a “Yo!” cut through the air.

Diana spun away from Kal towards the new voice. “Who-?” 

A man in a red helmet strolled into the room, tailed by Batman, who kept eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Batman?” Superman asked, straightening. “Who's this?” 

Batman’s non-frown got deeper. “I'm… not sure.” 

The stranger cracked his knuckles, stretched his arms over his head, and then rested his hands on the back of his helmet. 

“I take it you’ve already called Fate and want Diana to use her fancy honesty rope to have me prove my lack of hostility in the meantime?” he asked Batman. 

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Indeed.” 

The stranger seemed unbothered by the renowned bat-glare, and merely offered up one hand. Diana wrapped the rope around his hand once, twice, and then opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted. 

“What's your name?” Batman asked. 

“Red Hood,” the stranger blurted, before, quieter, “shit.” He (presumably) glared at Batman. “Cut that out, B.” 

Batman’s masked eyes narrowed. “What.” 

The man huffed. “Not like the one you're thinking of. Fuck that guy; he sucks and I hate him. Don't be an invasive ass.” 

Kal raised his hand halfway up as if he wanted to cover his mouth in shock. 

“My legal identity does not matter in any way,” he stated truthfully, turning to Diana. “I do not want a fight. I do not want anyone prying into my private life, because it is irrelevant to you people. I am from another universe that is roughly three years ahead of this one, and I am usually allied with my own Batman.” 

“Usually?” Superman interrupted. 

“We have our fights,” the stranger admitted. “Regardless, I am not here to threaten, extort, endanger, or harm anyone in any way. I want to go home, which I’m pretty sure I can only do with help from a magician like Dr. Fate or Constantine.” 

Diana considered him. “Why are you so protective of your identity if it doesn't matter?” 

“Because I don’t want to deal with all of the invasive and obsessive questions from Batman or the horrified looks from everyone else.” 

Kal frowned. “Who is ev-”

“-Batman!” the stranger interrupted, turning toward the man in question. “Does the Justice League know your secret identity? Or about the Birds?” 

Batman stared. Kal El frowned deeper. Diana got the sense that this Red Hood wasn’t talking about pet parrots. 

“No,” Batman said carefully, “and no. Do not tell them.” 

Red Hood nodded. “Sorry Supes, it's none of your business. You'll hav'ta fight B here for that info.”

Superman had gone from curious to distinctly, visibly bothered. “Why did you give us nicknames?” 

Red Hood shrugged. “You're sorta like an uncle to me, back home.” Then, with the lasso still wrapped around his wrist, he folded his arms. “Home, where I would like to go.” 

Diana tried to pull the conversation back on track. “Are you not tired after such a journey? Why such a hurry to return, if you have the opportunity to relax amongst allies and converse?” 

“Because my big brother is probably losing his mind now that my tracker dropped off the map, and if I miss our check-in he's going to cling to me for weeks.” 

Superman looked this ‘Red Hood’ up and down. He was large, with stature comparable to both Batman and Superman themselves. “You have a big brother? Bigger than you are?” 

Red Hood snorted. “‘Big’ as in ‘older,’ man. He's like half my size.” 

Batman drummed his fingers on his elbow once. “How many siblings do you have?” 

The man hesitated, but then held up a finger. “Gimme a second, I... I'm not even bullshitting you; this one is complicated.” Then, he started to count on his fingers and mutter underneath his breath. “One, two, the two younger- wait, three, counting- and then… shit, plus the girls… and the little…” 

He looked up. “Eight.” 

Batman's mouth twitched. “You're telling me that you have eight siblings.” It wasn’t a question. 

Red Hood chuckled, tilting his head sardonically. “Don't like what that implies for you, hm?” Then he turned back to Diana. “Anyway, are we good? Are my vibes sufficiently passive? Can I go?” 

Diana considered this man for a moment. He spoke truth, but not quite with full honesty. “Did you lie at all to our Batman before coming to the Watchtower?” 

“No.” 

Again, the stranger's words burned with truth, but still flickered with a smug mischief. He wasn't lying, and had not so far, but he was still hiding something. 

Regardless, Diana nodded. “He is safe,” she told her friends, before starting to unwind the rope. 

Before she could undo the final loop, however, Batman grabbed it and held it down on Red Hood's wrist. “What does your birth certificate say?” he hissed.

Red Hood tried to jerk away. “Male.” 

Batman glared. “What is your social security number?” 

“What? I don't know- I haven't needed to use it for years! It literally does not matter, anyways – Fuck, stop that!” Red Hood pulled harder.

Diana was privately bothered. Batman didn’t usually press this hard, and while she wanted to appease her friend's curiosity, she didn't want to do it at the expense of this stranger's privacy (more than they already had). “Batman-” she started. 

“Why won't you tell me anything?” Batman gritted out. 

“Because!” Red Hood yelled, still bound by the lasso but finally managing to rip away from the Dark Knight's grip. “You're gonna hate the answers I give, or me, and the kids are gonna find out, and I can't do that to them! Not…" He wilted a little. "Not in any universe. They’ll torture themselves over it, and each other, and I just… I can't.” 

Batman stepped back, as if surprised at his own outburst, but then asked, “What about S?” 

Diana didn’t know who that was, but it had Red Hood hunching in on himself. “I’m going to talk to her before I leave,” he muttered, before unwrapping his hand the rest of the way. He threw the loop of glowing rope in Diana's direction before pivoting on his heel and storming off.

“Batman,” Superman asked tentatively, “what the heck was that?” 

Batman inhaled slowly and his face smoothed out with fake calm. “Don't let him break anything,” he ordered. Then he prowled off the way he had come, presumably back towards the zetas, leaving Diana and Superman alone in the teleport lobby. 

Kal El looked at Diana. 

Diana looked at Kal. 

Kal looked in the direction Batman had gone, and then at her again. 

Diana nodded, and Superman floated after Batman while Diana turned on her own heel to find where their guest had disappeared to. 

Chapter Text

Diana found Red Hood in one of the training rooms, beating a punching bag almost faster than even her eyes could track. If his target had been a human, it would have several broken bones, just from the few seconds she had seen. 

He had ditched (most of) his weapons as well as his combat boots and brown jacket, leaving him in tactical pants, socks, a tight, armored undershirt, and, surprisingly, still, the helmet. None of his skin was visible even thlugh he was working out, which had to be uncomfortable. Diana herself generally wore little, partially because the exertion of a fight worked up quite a sweat, but she could only really get away with it safely due to her invulnerability to most things. She supposed Red Hood, probably human, could not. All the more reason it was peculiar. 

Although, considering the aggression Batman had displayed, it made sense that Red Hood, effectively surrounded by strangers, might not feel comfortable revealing any soft, fleshy weak points. 

“Hello,” Diana greeted, leaning on the doorframe. 

Red Hood didn't jump in surprise (even though she'd floated her way down the hall and hus back had been to her the whole time), and continued kicking and jabbing in a way that would have had even Black Canary impressed. Diana herself was, honestly. 

“Go away, Diana,” he said. He barely sounded winded, even though the punching bag had started to leak sand at the seams. He'd clearly not been going easy on it. 

Diana frowned at his aggression. “I would like to talk.” 

“If you're trying to get me to speak with B, don't bother. I want him to leave me alone until Nabu gets his ass over here.” 

“No,” she replied easily. “Batman is elsewhere. Dr. Fate however, is caught up with some scheme cooked up by a ‘Witch Boy’ and someone named Xanadoth.” Dr. Fate's reply to Batman's request for his presence had reached her, Superman's, and Batman's comms, as they were all senior League members. “He might be a while.” 

Red Hood dug his knee into the punching bag with a particularly violent jab. “Fuckin’ Klarion and his stupid cat,” he grumbled, before dropping rear-first onto the wrestling mat not unlike a petulant child at the beginning stages of throwing a tandtrum. His hands landed between his knees. “Fine. What do you want?” 

Diana drifted over before lowering herself down beside Red Hood, several feet away. “I wanted to check on you. You seemed… anxious.” 

“No shit,” came the irritated reply. “B-Man ignoring a guy's right to privacy no matter the emotional cost, as usual.” 

“You seem to know him very well.” 

“I know my version of Batman very well. He just happens to be like this in most realities.” Red Hood laid down on his back, knees bent up and hands clasped over his chest. “Obsessive, nosy, and rude.” 

Diana refrained from mentioning the fact that Red Hood had a vocabulary that would make Kal El blush. Instead, she asked, “Do you mind if I ask what you did that got him so curious?” 

“I got inconveniently teleported into his base, on accident, and gave him the team code for trust. I know privacy only matters when he wants it to, but seriously, he could lighten the hell up a bit.” 

“You do have a lot of guns,” she mused. “He's famous for disliking those.” 

“I also have his codes,” Red Hood countered, “which he's famous for not giving to those he doesn't trust. At the very least, he could listen to another version of himself.” 

Diana hummed. “Batman is… paranoid,” she replied carefully. “And I'm putting that mildly. If he met someone as secretive as himself, he'd immediately be suspicious; I doubt two Batmen would get along.” 

“...I guess.” 

Diana decided to change the subject, lest the peculiar stranger feel cornered and run off again. “Quite advanced moves you had there.” 

“Combination of street kid instincts, years of combat training, and a dash of magical trauma for flavor.” Red Hood sounded… almost blasé about it. Casual.

“Magic?” Diana's eyebrows raised. “Is that why you want to talk to Dr. Fate instead of a scientist like Atom?” 

“I want to talk to Fate because he's the most likely to hurry this along,” Red Hood clarified. “The guy's always prickly about reality being out of whack, so he'll want to get me home to ensure the multiverse doesn't collapse.” There was a pause. “Well. Probably.” 

“Probably?” 

“Probably. Last time I talked to him, he was hella judgy and kinda pissed when he realized he shouldn't kill me.” 

“Why would he want to kill you?” Diana asked. Nabu was a stickler for rules, everyone who had met him could attest, but if this man was (allegedly) a (mostly) normal man…

“I'm apparently an exception to a universal constant, and he didn't like the idea. Grumbled at me for like ten minutes about special privileges and shit, like I asked for it.” 

Diana considered that, and what it implied. Directly asking seemed too forwards, so instead she prompted, “Like Batman?” 

Red Hood laughed beneath his helmet, but he sounded tired. “Mm. Yeah. A big, cranky, stick in the mud who dictates a bunch of rules. Difference is, Nabu is an actual god, as built into the universe as the stars.” 

He tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling. Then, much more softly, he said, “Batman is just a human guy with a big ego.” 

Diana… didn't know how to respond to that. The reply was a specific sort of vulnerably honest, and she pondered for a short moment how close Red Hood and his world's version of her must be for him to let that slip. “Why are you telling me any of this?” 

“Because you're more relaxed than Batman and don't pry like Clark. I've barely been here for an hour, and you're the only one who's asked me how I'm doing.”

“Hm.” 

“Also, B definitely put a bug on you while you weren't looking, but if he's back on earth, he can't listen to it until he gets ahold of you again.” 

Diana frowned. “He what?” 

Red Hood sat up on his elbows and grabbed something that had stuck to one of the loops of her lasso. “Ta-da,” he deadpanned, flourishing a small, bat-shaped piece of metal smaller than the firing port on his gun. 

Diana clenched her jaw. She could see why this guy was tired of Batman's nonsense if he was used to this. 

Red Hood snorted at her expression and crushed the thing between his gloved fingertips. “And even if he's still on the Watchtower somewhere, listening, honest vulnerability with an ally is a good way to get him to ease up a bit.” 

Putting aside Batman's breach of her trust (which she would have to talk to him about), Diana took a second to consider the stranger beside her. 

Red Hood was right, and that… could be cause for concern. It wasn't quite that he worried Diana, necessarily, but she could understand Batman's speculation over this man's honesty. The man sitting beside her was smart. Calculating. Whoever he was, he could navigate human interaction expertly, and if it had been anyone other than Batman, famous for his paranoia, Clark, famous for his investigative prowess, and Diana, famous for detecting lies, they might not have noticed how dangerously clever and vague his speech patterns were. 

Red Hood knew how people worked, and if he displayed this sort of competency (and lack of fear) in front of Batman or Superman, Diana understood how they might be anxious. 

“You're dangerous,” Diana told him. Superman had tried to peek through the helmet, he'd told her earlier, only to be blocked by lead. Maybe in the red paint? “I can see why you bother him.”

“I'm very good at doing that,” Red Hood replied. “Bothering. My mom says it's one of my most meddlesome attributes.” He sounded proud. 

“High praise?” 

“Extremely. My second-littlest brother disagrees, though.” 

Diana smiled at his soft tone. “You speak of them fondly.” 

Red Hood hummed and sat up, looking Diana in the eyes. She noted, distantly, that his face covering had white lenses very like the ones in Batman's cowl. “Yeah. We're a hell of a patchwork, so wildly different yet so tight-knit we might as well be a quilt.” 

“What are they like?” Diana asked. 

As she expected, Red Hood started speaking with genuine gentleness. “I have three sisters and five brothers, although one of them isn't technically human. My oldest sister is great with technology. The other one is the best out of all of us at stealth, and the younger sister is more cheeky and annoying than I am.

"My youngest brother I don't see much, and second-youngest is who I share a mom with. Third-youngest is a sweet kid, and unlike the rest of us, he actually works during the day. Fourth youngest brother is a feral, sleep-deprived little gremlin who’s counterpart in this universe is probably spying on us as we speak, and then there's me. Lastly in the family's brother lineup is my older brother, who has a martyrdom complex almost as bad as his father, and absolutely will kill a man for us, even if he'll hate himself for it later.” 

Diana tilted her head. “You don't all share parents?” 

“Patchwork,” Red Hood repeated. “I think that out of everybody, in every direction, only my second-youngest brother has any actual living blood relations. Most of my siblings have the same emotional connection to the ‘dad’ of the family as biological kids would. I, personally, see the second-youngest’s mom as my own, and the rest of my siblings as siblings, but ‘dad’ himself is only dad to them, not me.” 

The tune in his words didn't sing of honesty… not quite. Diana didn't comment on it, and hummed conversationally instead. “I understand. Some of my sisters-in-arms are sisters, daughters, or mothers to each other, but most of us have no family ties.” 

“Blood of the covenant and all that,” Red Hood murmured. 

Diana tilted her head. “I have not heard that before. What does it mean?” 

Red Hood seemed to smile with his voice. “‘The blood of the covenant’” he said, “– as in, like, a community… a convergence of people – ‘is thicker than the water of the womb.’ It means that chosen ties hold more value than the genetic ones you're given at birth.” 

Diana smiled back at him. “That's a lovely phrase.” 

“Yeah. It is.” 

Chapter Text

Clark found Batman in one of the engine rooms, leaning against a control panel and staring down at his glove monitor. 

“Batman?” he asked, floating over. 

Batman didn’t look up. Or speak. 

“Batman,” Clark tried again. “Can you explain to me what just happened out there? …Please?” 

A heavy sigh paired with white cowl lenses locking onto Clark’s eyes had Clark feeling uncomfortable. Batman did speak, though. “He fell into my base, identified about twelve things he should have no knowledge of, and is definitely hiding something even if he hasn't yet been aggressive.” 

“...Okay.” Clark leaned on the same control panel and folded his arms. “Is there a reason you're so upset about his request for privacy?” 

Batman paused, seemingly at a loss for words. It was weird; Batman was generally already a quiet man, and would sometimes go days without speaking, but this was the first time Clark had seen him so obviously, visibly conflicted about something.

“I have things I keep private, Clark,” he murmured. He seemed almost reserved as he typed. Anxious. 

“I'm aware, Batman,” Clark replied, trying to keep his tiny flare of insecurity from showing itself in his tone. Batman kept everything about his life clutched so close to his chest that nobody could see how many cards he had, and Clark, who tried very hard to be trustworthy, couldn't help the hurt at Batman's refusal to budge. “But you weren't like this when you were complaining about that guy who stole your ‘steal-proof’ boat.” 

Clark barely managed to bite back a grin as Batman scowled at the memory. 

“No,” Batman admitted. “But this is different.”

Clark frowned. “How?” 

Batman's fingers hesitated over his glove, and he eyed Clark up and down for a moment. Clark felt small under the scrutiny, but refused to cower, and eventually Batman sighed. “Half the things he should have been unable to identify were children I look out for.” 

Clark felt like he should be more surprised than he was, because Batman? And kids? Wild combination. But Batman was also the best at dictating crowd control during disasters and knew exactly which heroes to send when there were terrified children involved that would need more comfort. 

“Understandably worrisome,” Clark conceded, deciding to he would hold off thinking about it until later. “But that still seemed extreme.” 

Batman huffed. “I do what I have to.” 

He clicked a few more buttons on his gauntlet before a little pop-up hologram that showed an ongoing audio recording flickered into existence above his wrist. Clark blinked in surprise when Wonder Woman's voice filtered through the static. 

“...Someone named Xanadoth,” she said. 

Batman frowned. Clark narrowed his eyes at him. “So much for being allowed to have secrets, hm?” 

Batman glared back. “I do,” he repeated, “what I must. Now be quiet.” 

Clark made a face, but settled in to listen. 

Somewhere near Diana, there was a swear. “B-man ignoring a man's right to privacy as usual.” 

Clark snorted. Batman glared at him again, but he only shrugged. Clearly, this guy knew his stuff. 

Diana seemed to agree. “You seem to know him very well.” 

“I know my version of Batman very well,” their weird guest corrected. “He just happens to be like this in every universe: obsessive, nosy, and rude.” 

Batman glared harder at the hologram. 

“Do you mind if I ask what you did that got him so curious?” Diana asked. 

The irritated voice grumbled indignantly. “I got inconveniently teleported into his base on accident, and gave him the team code for trust.” Then, with a slightly more bitter tone, “I know privacy only matters when he wants it to, but seriously, he could lighten the hell up a bit.” 

Clark privately agreed. 

As Diana explained some of the reasons Batman would be bothered by this Red Hood, Clark could almost feel Batman's offense growing. He snorted when she said ‘paranoid,’ and hid his grin behind his hand when Batman scowled at him. 

Then Diana brought up Red Hood's apparent fighting prowess, and they both tuned back in. 

“...Street kid instincts,” Red Hood answered, “years of training, and a dash of magical trauma for flavor.” 

Diana asked if his history with magic was why Red Hood wanted to see Dr. Fate so badly, and Red Hood said something about the multiverse collapsing. The more he spoke of ‘exceptions’ and ‘special privileges,’ the more curious Clark became, until all of a sudden Red Hood got poetic and judgy and compared Batman's human insignificance to Nabu's cosmic nature, which had Clark's eyebrows rising into his hairline. 

“You're more relaxed than Batman and don't pry like Clark.” 

Ooh, ouch.

“I've barely been here an hour and you're the only one who's asked me how I am,” Red Hood explained. “Also, B definitely put a bug on you while you weren't looking-” 

Batman twitched. 

“-But if he's back on earth, he can't listen to it until he gets ahold of you again.” 

After Diana's audible confusion, a static noise crackled through the hologram, implying someone had picked up the device Batman was using to listen to them. Then the audio fizzled out, and the lines on the hologram petered out like a flatlining heartbeat monitor. Batman stared incredulously at his gauntlet for a total of three seconds before he looked Clark in the eyes. “What are they saying.” 

Clark pursed his lips. “Haven't you been invasive enough?” 

Batman faltered, either because Clark wasn't obeying or because Clark calling him on his BS was making him see that he was being weird. Either way, Batman allowed himself to visibly slouch. 

“I need to know if he's a danger or not,” he murmured quietly. “Please, Clark.” 

Well, shit. Clark couldn't say no to that. 

He let his hearing spread throughout the ship and settle on the room Diana and Red Hood were in, and then started to summarize. 

Red Hood was in the middle of talking about his aforementioned eight siblings, starting with his sisters. Batman, now no longer in need of his gauntlet, folded his arms and listened. 

He didn't react to anything relating to the girls, but at the mention of Red Hood's fourth-youngest brother, his eye twitched, and at the mention of the oldest brother, both Cowl lenses narrowed into a deep glare at the floor. When Clark told him that Red Hood didn't feel like the ‘dad’ of the family was his own father figure, Batman very carefully kept to a calm breathing pattern. 

Now, as much as investigative reporter Clark Kent has to pretend to be a shy, awkward, introvert with no social skills, and as much as Superman had to pretend to only be capable of thinking about Truth and Justice, Clark was not a bumbling, empty-headed idiot. He was a reporter for a reason; part of his normal job was putting together puzzles that other people didn't know were there. This Red Hood was a big puzzle piece that came from out of nowhere, and Clark had been noticing bits of the same puzzle scattered around nearby. 

Batman's initial response to the Red Hood's name was a piece from a different puzzle, but that wasn't important. 

What was important was the way Red Hood had interrupted one of Clark's questions to ask Batman if the Justice League knew about something, and then had made it clear that it wasn't his place to answer the question because the answer was something Batman was trying to keep on the DL. Pairing Red Hood's refusal to share information because ‘the kids’ would be upset with Batman's admission that he kept an eye on a couple of kids, it wasn't a reach to assume the kids in question had something to do with the ‘birds.’ 

Red Hood had also brought up his own family, and Batman had seemed bothered at the number of siblings Red Hood had said he had. To make things weirder, Red Hood had seemed to know why it was bothering him. 

“Don't like what that implies for you?” he'd asked Batman. 

Did… Was Red Hood from a universe where he was one of these children? That would mean he was making fun of Batman for his disturbed response to the number of kids that there were in his future, which begged the slightly less important question: did Batman have more or less than eight kids right now? Was the ‘implication’ in question that Batman would lose kids, or gain them?

On top of that, Red Hood's conversation with Diana about his and his siblings’ relationship dynamics implied that Batman wasn't just a friend of the family, but specifically the father figure of the bunch. Was- Was Batman a dad? 

Even weirder, though, if Clark was following that line of thinking, then Red Hood was saying that he, specifically, unlike his siblings, did not see Batman as his dad. And after Clark had relayed that sentence to Batman, Batman had almost frozen. 

Red Hood and Diana's conversation petered out into companionable silence, and Clark pulled his hearing away from them. “Batman.” 

“What.” 

“You know who he is, don't you?” 

Batman pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I have several theories, but nothing has been confirmed.” 

“What doesn't add up?” Clark asked. 

Batman glanced at Clark briefly, but seemed to decide that he was safe to talk things out with. 

“Either,” he started, “some of his siblings’ siblings aren't his siblings, the order of children is wrong, or we're missing one. That, or the personalities of his versions of them are different.” 

“You seem to be thinking of a lot of different possibilities,” Clark said hesitantly, “but that isn't all of them, I can tell.” 

“One of my other theories has too much evidence against it to be properly investigated,” Batman dismissed. “The other two don't have enough.”

“Okay,” Clark managed. Then, with slightly more confidence, “So, he bothers you because he knew your kids? The kids you protect?” 

Batman refused to nod, but the answer was pretty clear. 

“Huh. That explains some of your paranoia; I wouldn't be happy if random strangers that size knew my son, so-” 

Batman shook his head. “It's not just that – He knows my name.” 

Clark stopped. “Oh.” 

Batman had kept his secret identity hidden from the Justice League for years, including from Clark and Diana, which… was sort of hurtful. Was he not trustworthy? Clark almost wanted to ask, but… no, he'd pushed enough today. If he pushed any more, Batman might lock up, like a seatbelt when you pull on it too quickly. 

“Yes,” Batman agreed sarcastically. “Oh.” 

They were cut off by a ping to their communicators. 

Dr. Fate was here. 

Chapter Text

“You are an anomaly,” Dr. Fate's deep voice rumbled. 

Red Hood snorted. “No kidding.”

Batman, Red Hood, and Dr. Fate had all met up in the lobby, while Clark went to find food and Diana went to fetch someone she thought might be able to help. 

Batman, at the moment, stood to the side, observing as the Red Hood was circled curiously by Fate, who looked more interested than anything else. Red Hood, if Batman was correct, looked to be getting exponentially more uncomfortable the longer he was being observed. 

Admittedly, (irritatingly,) Batman couldn't quite squash the prickle of empathetic discomfort he felt every time Fate nudged the man's arms to the side or hovered too close, but it was paired every time with a spike of anxiety whenever Red Hood twitched in irritation. It wasn't like Dr. Fate was someone that Hood could hurt, but Batman knew that anyone who was smart enough to work around the Lasso of Truth had to be dangerous, and that anyone who dared to take the Joker's old moniker had to be either idiotically, recklessly overconfident, or was a serious force to be reckoned with. 

Red Hood otherwise kept silent as he was poked and prodded at until Fate pointed at Hood's chest and said, “This has happened twice.” 

Batman's heart dropped into his stomach. That didn't sound like a statement about Red Hood jumping universes. 

Red Hood smacked the hand away and stepped back. “Yeah, I know. I don't know why, or what caused it either time.” 

Fate leaned forwards. “Even worse… You are not the only one.” 

“...Elaborate?” 

“The only one of you. Across the multiverse, this happens to more than one version of you.” 

Batman stifled the uneasy feeling rising in his chest.

Red Hood stilled. “What.” 

“This is very interesting,” Fate continued, still circling Red Hood curiously like a scientist looking at a rare specimen. “And it seemingly has nothing to do with your familial or social associations.” 

“So I've been destined for tragedy my whole life,” Red Hood said flatly. “Fuckin’ great. Can you send me home or not?” 

Batman frowned deeper. Tragedy? Did this have something to do with the ‘dash of magical trauma?’

Fate hummed. “I believe so, but crafting this spell will take hours. Additionally, I will need to do it in the exact spot that you appeared here.” 

“You gonna be able to survive that?” Hood asked Batman with a sarcastic head tilt. “Fate probably already knows your ID, but Di and Supes'll wanna tag along.” 

Batman narrowed his eyes as Dr. Fate resumed judgmentally circling Red Hood. “Why is that relevant.” 

“Because they're the closest thing you have t’friends these days, and with my arrival, their curiosities have been piqued. Are you gonna tell ‘em they can't meet the birds?” 

This man was infuriating. “I reserve the right to keep things private.” 

“Oh, but nobody else is?” Red Hood countered. He gestured wildly with his hands, suddenly aggravated. “God, your ego! I wish I could be a fly on that wall when Auntie Di decides t’have words with you, Christ alive.” 

Batman, through the strength of his willpower, didn't wince. 

Red Hood snorted as if he had. “Yeah, I know it's hard for you B,” he said with sickly sweet, faux sympathy, “but you could just rip off the band-aid and tell her. And Clark.” 

Batman didn't scowl, either. He was too self disciplined for that, but Red Hood seemed almost able to see his lack of response and translate it as if he'd spoken aloud. 

Red Hood shrugged. “She'd probably be more understandin’ if she knew why you're always like this, ‘s all I'm saying. An’ Clark is hurt you won't share anything with him.” 

As if on cue, Clark floated in through the doorway, returning with an armful of the pre-sealed foods from the galley. He looked... hopeful? Anxious? Anticipatory. 

“I miss anything?” he asked

“Nah,” Red Hood replied. “What'cha got there?” 

Clark set the snacks down on the nearest table. “Food.” 

“I'm not taking off my helmet, but nice try. I commend your effort.” 

Damn. 

Clark winced. “Sorry. Force of habit.” 

Hood shrugged. 

Dr Fate stopped and snapped his fingers, drawing everyone's attention back to him. “Your version here has not, has he?” he asked, pointing at Hood's chest again. 

Wonderful, they were back to speaking with the incredibly upsetting lack of context. 

Red Hood folded his arms as Diana (and Barry, for unknown reasons) made their way into the room. “Not as far as I'm aware.” 

Diana raised an eyebrow at Batman. “What did we miss?”

Batman clenched his hands against the urge to duck his head from her unamused stare. “Not much.” 

“Hello, strange man who has everybody’s stress levels skyrocketing,” Barry greeted. 

Red Hood gave a little two-finger salute. “Hi, Zippy.” 

“I- What did you call me?” 

Red Hood (seemed to) look him up and down. “Have you not met SB yet?” 

Barry looked flabbergasted. “You- Wha- Who??” 

“That's a no, then. Weird that the little insomniac hasn't introcuded him to you yet...” Red Hood waved Barry's confusion away and turned to Dr. Fate. “Whatever. Yo, Doc. Portal.” 

Ah. It was go time. Batman pulled up his gauntlet hologram and typed out, ‘Agent A, evacuate Birds.’ Diana, still watching him, raised an eyebrow at the message. Batman pretended not to notice. 

“Do not give me orders,” Dr. Fate said imperiously. 

Hood huffed. “Unless you want to have a long-ass science debate with Flash, right here, we ought to go before he starts asking too many questions.” 

Barry waffled there for a moment, offended, but Red Hood assured him, "When we get there, we can talk as much math as you want, but this is sort of a time sensitive thing."

Fate glared at him, but snapped his fingers to open a swirling portal of golden light, and gestured them forwards. 

Ignoring Dr. Fate's impatience, Batman waited until the everyone else had gone through except himself and Diana (Clark first, with his food, then Red Hood, then, still sputtering questions, Barry), and bowed his head in apology. 

“Well?” she asked, after a few seconds of silence. 

“I'm sorry. It was an invasion of privacy.” 

“I deserve more than that,” she told him. 

Batman rubbed at his neck uncomfortably. “Yeah. But not… not now. When we get a moment alone.” 

Diana squinted at him, assessing, before nodding her head and floating through the portal. Batman followed her, tailed by an uninterested Dr. Fate, and the portal closed behind them.