Spark

by TwinEnigma

Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman or Doctor Who series, concepts or characters. I am doing this purely to amuse myself. Spoilers for Series 6 of Doctor Who, mostly for A Good Man Goes To War and Let's Kill Hitler.

I

It's not the first time Jason Todd has died, not by far, but it's the first time he's really going to be conscious for it.

It hurts and it's terrifying, because this time there's no enraged alien meta to punch him out of death's grasp and this time he knows there's no Lazarus Pit nearby, much less someone who would care enough and be willing to toss him into it. It's not just an illusion of death, where he can swing to safety at the last minute, or there's another escape route that the good guys can't see.

This time is for real.

He grimaces, pulling himself along the alleyway, and tries to ignore the blood gushing from his side and leg. His vision spins dangerously, like a tilt-a-whirl on acid, and his ears are ringing with a tinny, distant almost-song that's growing steadily louder. His foot drags and he stumbles, catching himself on the wall with his free hand.

The song is louder now, almost familiar, but distantly so, as if he'd heard it a lifetime ago, and tiredly, he slumps against the brick. He can feel his skin starting to tingle from the blood loss and his mask is suddenly suffocating. He tears it off and flings it away, watching it bounce across the alley and come to rest.

The song dances in his ears until his head throbs with it, the world dancing dizzyingly, and he closes his eyes.

"I'm dying," he says to no one in particular.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind, one that sounds suspiciously like his own, murmurs, "You can fix that."

"I can… fix that?" Jason wonders aloud.

The voice adds, "It's easy, really."

The tingling sensation has spread everywhere, growing in intensity until it feels like burning, and the song hums through him soothingly. Open your eyes, it seems to say and he indulges it, watching in detached fascination as golden light dances over and through his skin in whispery trails.

"I'm hallucinating," he concludes.

And it is a pretty one as far as hallucinations go. He is glowing with warm gold light that leaves pretty contrails as he moves his hand and it's only getting stronger, pulsing in waves like a fire out of control.

Then he feels it – the broken ribs mending, his leg knitting, the bullet wounds closing – all at once, in a painful cacophony and the song rises to deafening levels as something burning explodes from under his skin. He screams, blinded by golden light, and then… there is only silence.

He drops to the ground, staring at his hands in confusion. There is blood on his clothes and they're shredded (with bullet holes, his brain supplies), but he is uninjured. He's starving and he doesn't know what he likes, but he's hungry enough not to care. He's not even completely sure what his name is (Jason, Robin, Red Hood, Jason sounds good) or what he looks like (blond, redhead, black hair, yeah, black is right, feels right).

He starts for the street, his legs still shaking from something but they are getting steadier with every step. Nearby, a red mask lies on the ground. It is familiar somehow and he picks it up curiously before stuffing it under his arm.

In his head, the song of the universe flows.

AN: Decided to continue.