Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.
(A/N: Finally, after a two year hiatus from the fandom, I have returned to my Day Away fanon series. I do apologize for my extended absence. At first it was because I wanted to wait for season two to end because I had crazy ideas of being able to make this series attest somewhat compliant with the canon cartoon. Then, when the series finally did end, I had so many feels I could barely even think, let alone write anything of worth. The remainder of the time, after I got over everything, was spent ingesting over how I could possibly ever reconcile the fanon I had established with the actual canon. Now, I have concluded that I cannot and I'm okay with that now. I'm just gonna roll with what I've already got and continue from there.
That being said, there are a few things from the series that, while they did not actually happen in any of my written works will still be considered 'canon' within the series. They are… Kaldur's name is cleared, everyone knows Artemis is alive and she is now Tigress, the Cave still got destroyed. That is what happened in the series since I stopped writing that I am keeping even though I didn't write any of it myself. As for the other BIG stuff such as Wally disappearing into the Speed Force and the Reach blurting out the secret of the Team's existence on national television… I'm not yet sure what I'm gonna do with those. If I'm actually going to include them or disregard them within the context of my already established fanon cont. That's one of the nice things about AUs, you can pick and choose.
Thank you all. Please enjoy the latest installment of Day Away.)
Lazarus
Chapter One: Aftermath Effect
The boy wonder spat blood from his mouth and used his good hand to try and push himself up. His other arm, his broken arm, dragged along beside him. His left eye was so swollen that he couldn't see out of it. No depth perception. But that didn't stop him form using his good hand to try and throw a robinrang impotently at the warehouse door. It clanged uselessly against the metal lock, not having enough force to do much else than make noise. With a groan of pain and exhaustion, Robin collapsed back on the floor, still conscious, but otherwise unmoving.
In the center of the room was a bomb. Something simple and crude, just TNT and a timer. But it was no less deadly. But with only one working arm, poor vision, faintness from pain and bloodless, and the panic that was slowly rising in him, he didn't have a hope of disarming it.
On the far side of the room -farthest from the bomb- Sheila crouched with her arms around her shoulders and sobbed. She knew as well as he did that if Robin's mentor didn't come save then in the next minute and twenty-four seconds… twenty-three seconds… twenty-two seconds… then they would both die.
"Jason…" she whispered. "Jason… can't you do something?"
Robin remained where he was on the floor. He'd already tried moving, and he'd already tried throwing something. He didn't have the strength for force the door and he didn't have the motor skills to try and diffuse the bomb. So, no. He couldn't do anything. Nothing except place blame. This was all her fault anyway! She was the one who handed him over to the Joker in the first place!
He was so excited. Jason was so excited, optimistic and happy to finally find his biological mother. But the moment he arrived in Ethiopia and learned that she was being blackmailed by the Joker, everything was just one disappointment after another from that point on. The blackmail was for her embezzlement, syphoning off funds from the aid foundation she worked for, taking from the very people she was supposed to be helping. If that wasn't bad enough, in an effort to cover up her clandestine dealings, she turned him -her own son!- over to the Joke. There then followed the brutal beating that left Jason in his current state and now here they were, locked in an abandoned warehouse about to be blown to bits.
This was all her fault. It was her fault that they were trapped here. About to explore in another minute. Fifty-seven seconds…
Jason was so excited to meet his real mother. But now that he had, he decided he hated the woman.
But Bruce would save him. Batman would save him. Jason could count on Bruce for anything.
Fifty-six seconds…
Bruce was a far better father than any of his foster parents or boys homes had been.
And Dick. Dick wasn't so bad either. Even if he and Bruce weren't on the best of terms at the moment.
Fifty-five seconds…
And the Team. Dick's Team. Him, Wally, Kaldur, Conner, M'gann, Garfield. He didn't always see eye to eye with the campy saps, but they could always be counted on in a pinch. That was the really great thing about the Team. They might not get along all the time. They might get onto him about his smoking in the Cave. Or accuse him first whenever something went mission. He was a street kid, so he must have stolen it.
Fifty-four seconds…
But when it really came down to it. When things really mattered. On missions. They always had his back. And he always had theirs.
Fifty-three seconds…
This was not a mission. He wasn't assigned to travel to Ethiopia and track down a crooked aid worker. It was just something he did on his own. A personal quest. He hadn't told anyone about it. Not really. He was sure Bruce knew and just wasn't going to stop him. He understood that it was something Jason had to do. Dick probably also knew. It was hard to hide things from him. Not in the same way that it was hard to hide things from Bruce. Dick was far more empathetic to the people around him and could just tell. Would just know.
Fifty-two seconds…
One of them would realize something was up. He was gone to long. Something just didn't feel right.
Fifty-one seconds…
Bruce and Dick would come themselves. Dick might even bring the Team. Maybe not the whole Team. But Wally, Conner, and M'gann.
Forty-nine seconds…
"Jason… you're Robin. can't you do something?" Sheila
Forty-seven seconds…
His mother might not care about him. But there was a whole army of people outside that did! Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Wally, Conner, M'gann, Garfield… They would come. They would all come!
Forty-five seconds…
They would come tearing through the door. Or bursting through the ceiling.
Forty-three seconds…
Bruce and Dick would defuse the bomb. Or Wally would pick it up and run it somewhere far, far away and come back before it could explode. M'gann would use her telekinesis to propel it up into the air, far enough away that the explosion wouldn't bother any of them. Or Conner would hold tight and contain the explosion in his hands.
Forty-one seconds…
He would be saved. One way or another, he would be saved. Bruce, Dick, Conner, M'gann, Wally… To many people on the outside cared about him. He would be saved.
Thirty-nine seconds…
Bruce, Dick, Conner, M'gann, Wally, Kaldur, Garfield, Artemis… They would come for him.
Thirty-six seconds…
They would save him. He would be safe.
Thirty-three seconds…
Bruce, Dick, Conner, M'gann, Garfield, Artemis…
Thirty seconds…
They were coming. Any second now they would burst through that door or break through that ceiling.
Twenty-seven seconds…
Bruce, Dick, Conner, Garfield, M'gann.
Twenty-four seconds…
It was just taking them a while, but they were on their way. Any moment now, though. Any moment now they would be charging in to save him.
Twenty-one seconds…
Bruce, Dick, Conner, Garfield.
Sixteen seconds…
Down to the wire now. They would be nursing through that door right… now!
Eleven seconds…
Bruce, Dick, Conner. Now!
Five seconds…
Now!
One second…
Bruce, Dick.
…They didn't come.
Nobody really cared. Bruce, Dick, Conner, Wally, M'gann, Kaldur, Garfield, Red Tornado, Black Canary, the whole Team… nobody cared.
.
tick-tick-tock
.
In a place that is not a place, at a moment that does not exist within any stream of time, Rip Hunter's Time-Sphere hovered.
He found it! Hypertime.
All hypothetical pasts… and possible futures… all timelines of all parallel universes and alternate dimensions laid out before him. Each timeline branching out as all possible choices of all critical decision points created a new line, a new dimension, a new universe.
Rip hovered outside of all universes, looking at a Multi-verse.
The multi-verse. Hypertime.
It was unlocked now. Open to any and all that had the means of reaching it and the knowledge to traverse it. The Linear Men called it a 'Pandora's Box of Time', but he didn't believe them. They were far to rigid in their views and treatment of the time-stream. Time-streams. It was plural.
Hypertime was opened.
…And for those who knew how to listen, though out all the universes, dimensions and timelines, across every planet and every star, the sound of breaking glass –as of something thick but crystalline fracturing- could be heard.
But as everyone knows, just as when you throw a stone in a pond, it creates ripples. So too does broken glass create fracture lines that reach outward. Exposing weak spots or creating flaws. Changing the image reflected in the glass. Creating new reflections. Similar to the ones next to it, but still noticeably different.
.
tick-tick-tock
.
Jason woke to the sound of breaking glass.
He didn't know where he was. The last thing he remembered was the flash and the noise. Then searing hot pain all over and silence.
Was he dead?
Possibly. It seemed like he was in a box.
A large man-sized box. Softly padded, almost like a bed. He even had a pillow.
And his clothing! A nice suit. Not his Robin uniform but a three piece gentleman's suit complete with black tie. A funeral tux. He was in a funeral tux. He was in a coffin. He was dead.
Or buried alive. He didn't feel dead.
But he was rather sure he must have died. Nobody came to rescue him. Nobody cared. They would give him a proper burial but they couldn't be bothered to save his fucking life! Bruce, Dick, the Team… they were no different than his corrupt, back-stabbing, bitch of a mother! She gave him away as a baby and she gave him away to the Joker. Bruce would bury his body, but he wouldn't save his life. Bruce killed him. And his mother killed him. By Bruce's inaction, he was dead. By his mother's hand he was given to the man that killed him.
His mother killed him. Bruce killed him. Dick killed him. The Team killed him. It was all of them. All of them! They were all guilty.
They could give him a proper burial, but they couldn't save his life! What bullshit is that!?
Jason clenched his hands into fists and punched the roof of his coffin. The impact causing a solid THUMP and a few motes of dust to fall on his face. But the wood splintered under his knuckles.
With his other hand the late boy wonder rubbed the dirt from his eyes and realized that he still had his strength and his training. He could dig himself out. It would be difficult. Solid wood coffin. Six feet of dirt. Limited air. He could die again before he actually did get out. It was possible. But Jason promised himself it wouldn't happen. He woful get out of here and when he did he would take his revenge on everyone who had betrayed him. On every one left him for dead.
They would give him a proper burial, but they would't save his life. Bruce, Dick, the Team, the Joker… he would get them all!
He would get them.
.
tick-tick-tock
.
Tim lay on his bed, his math book from school open in front of him, his laptop displaying a half-typed mission report for Dick to his side. Both sat forgotten. Instead, Tim's gaze was on the cover of a perfectly ordinary and innocent looking journal. A little blue book. It looked harmless. Mundane, even. But it was anything but. For this journal had come from the future and it was written by Tim himself. Or rather, it would be written by Tim himself.
It contained all the major earth shattering and significant personal events between last Halloween past and the year 2056. It was given to Tim by his future counterpart in the hopes that reading it would change his dark and dystopian present.
But that was the thing with time travel.
It created a paradox.
If Tim read the little blue book, then there were two possible outcomes. The first being a Barjavel Paradox. In which Tim -perhaps with the help of Kon and Bart- takes the knowledge and information contained within the journal and make all the right decisions at all the rights and makes everything turn out okay. Builds a better future than the one he saw. That sounded great. But then, if the future really was all fine and dandy, then he would have to reason to give the book to his past self-or ever write it in the first place for that matter. There by never actually giving it to his past counterpart. If he didn't have the book then nothing would change and the dystopian future would still happen.
The other possible outcome being a self-fulfilling prophesy. That by taking steps to prevent the events described in the book, he is actually the one to cause them. Not so different from the prophesies of Delphi from ancient Greek myth. A king takes his newborn son to Dephi to have his future told and the oracle tells the king that his son will kill him and marry his mother. In an effort to prevent this, the king sends his son away to be raised by another family. When the exiled prince comes of age, he too goes to Delphi where they tell him he will kill his father and marry his mother. In an effort to prevent this, the boy leaves home. On his travels he meets a man, a king, on the road and kills him over a small slight. As penance for the killing, he promises to look after the king's wife and city. And so, without knowing it, the exiled prince killed his father and married his mother. Only after several children does he learn the truth and gouge his own eyes out.
It was a well knows story.
Bad things happen to those who know to much of their own futures.
Hesitantly, Tim lifted the front cover and peeked at the first page as if he were examining a bomb. Even forty years in the future, Tim was still himself. He was methodical and perfectly organized. The first page sported a table of contents. Each 'chapter' featured a page number, a date and a title. Tim tried not to look at the dates, or if his eyes did manage to catch a number, he made a conscious effort not to take note of it besides the fact that he recorded it scientifically -year, month, day.
There were some titles that he decided one did not need to see the future to know would happen eventually. Things like 'Batman-Dick', or 'Superman-Kon'. Thanks to his trip to the future, Tim already knew Kon eventually took up the mantel of Superman and build a new Fortress in Kansas. And it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that Bruce wasn't gonna live forever and that Dick -as the oldest and most experienced- would take over the Batman mantel one day. Then there were titles that, while unfamiliar, were still expected given what he already knew of the future. Things like, 'Apokolips-First Contact', 'Apokoliptan Magma Vents', or 'Hellspores'.
But the one that Tim feared to look at the most was the chapter entitled simply 'Demon'.
He supposed it could be referring to anything. The Demon Etrigan, perhaps. Or a demonic crisis, something mystical in origin that they'd have to fight with the help of their supernatural colleagues. But something told Tim that wasn't the case. Something deep in his bones knew that the chapter entitled 'Demon' was referring to his grim reaper. The man that would one day kill him.
A flash of silver steel in dim light. A splash of blood, flowing freely from an opened well in the chest.
Tim shut his eyes against the memory.
Of all the times and places he could have gone in all of time and space, he had to be transported to the time and place of his own death. In all of time and space, across every planet and every star there is one place and time a person should never travel to. No one should see their own death. No one should go to the time and place of their own death. But Tim did. He witnessed his own death and it haunted his nightmares ever since returning to the present.
Tim shut the little blue book, slamming the cover down with more force than was necessary and slid the thing under his bed. A flash of silver steel in dim light. A splash of blood, flowing freely from an opened well in the chest. Like a monster under his bed.
Kon wanted to talk about it. About what they saw in the future and what they were told. But Tim didn't want to. How was he supposed to tell someone he witnessed his own death? That he knew the method, location, date and exact time of his final demise. It was a conversation Tim just didn't know how to have, let alone actually want to have. Kon said he had something important he needed to share. But after seeing his own death, Tim decided he knew to much about the future already and didn't want to hear anymore.
What they needed to do was focus on the important things. The big, Earth-shattering events. One day, Earth would be invaded by another hostile alien. But unlike the Reach, who wanted to use humans as cattle, these new invaders were seeking… well, actually, no one ever explained what exactly Apokolips wanted with Earth. He knew they drilled holes all the way down to the planet's core and filled the skies with ash. But he didn't know why.
He supposed he would find out one way or another. The important thing was that they were prepared. Tim already knew how to defeat them.
So, there was nothing to worry about.
Tim turned back to his computer, forcing himself to finish his mission report. After that, he would finish his math homework and go to bed.
But his mind kept wandering to that book under the bed.
Like a monster under the bed…
…
Startling several crows, a hand burst through the ground. Then a second. Clawing at the ground around them, the two hands scratched and pulled.
A head emerged next.
Then shoulders and torso.
Soon a whole person was climbing out of the six foot deep hole they had created. He gasped for air. Coughing and wheezing. Crawling on the ground away from the grave, from his grave.
Jason Peter Todd
2000-2014
He rolled over on his back and gazed up at the thick smog-layered sky. Gotham. He was in Gotham. Of course he would be buried in Gotham. They could give him a proper burial. They could retrieve his body from a foreign country to bury him. But they couldn't be bothered to save his life. Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Conner, Wally, Garfield, M'gann, Artemis, Kaldur, Red Tornado, Black Canary, everyone! He hated them all!
This was the last conscious thought Jason had before he passed out, exhausted from his exertions. But alive.
...