Once upon a time, there was Death.

She was the second of seven, born when the first life began and ended. With every life that followed, She grew. Beautiful and young, but forever tarrying, for life always came, and life always ended.

Or so it seemed. For there were those who clung to life. Extended it beyond what it was meant to be. And so, they angered Death. Her work was important but tiring, and if they continued, it would be Endless.

Death was not always so kind. Not then. She wanted things to end. And so, She went to Her Brother Destiny for help.

"How do I stop those who fall through the cracks?" She asked.

"By sealing the cracks," He answered.

But the cracks were there for a reason. The Book of Destiny had willed it so, and the Book could not be denied. She could not seal them away.

"Is there another way?" She asked again.

"Perhaps," Her Brother said, "but it will cause pain."

A warning, for Destiny was not so chained to the Book back then. But the Book could not be denied, and so Death demanded the answer anyway. A mark, She was told. Mark a soul with Her brand, and no force will ever be able to bring it back.

Yet, for a soul to be branded, they must be at the edge of life and death. Even immortals rarely ever dared to venture close to the edge, nor could Death force them to. She needed help, She realized.

So, Death forged a weapon made of blinding light. With it, a mortal wound was a mortal wound. It would summon Her, allow Her to cast Her brand upon the inflicted soul, and bring them to whatever afterlife awaited them.

It needed power, however. A wielder, for Death could not wield it Herself. A mortal. Thus, Death entered the mortal plane, and found a warrior of great renown and skill. And when he was cut down in battle, She appeared to him, and explained her plight.

He agreed to wield the weapon, seeking more power to spill the blood of his enemies, and so she bonded it to his soul. With it, he cut down immortal after immortal, and so Death was content.

But the warrior was not just a warrior. He was a man. And every time he saw Death, he grew closer to Her. He fell in love with Her. Or, perhaps, the blood he spilled when he saw Her.

He killed the immortals. The weapon's purpose had been fulfilled. And yet, it was not enough for him. He needed to see Death. He needed to be with Death.

So he killed others. First, other warriors — but as his legend grew, such warriors began to avoid him. And if he could not kill warriors, then innocents would have to do. Men, women, and eventually, children.

Death was horrified. She shunned the warrior's advances, and upon the warrior's own death, marked him with Her brand so She would never have to see him again. She wept for those who had been lost thanks to Her arrogance, and went to Her Brother again, and asked Him why the Book had been written so.

"Because it will be needed," He told Her, "It is a check, a Balance between all that is, and all that was, and can never be again."

"So another must wield it?" She asked, heartbroken.

"Yes. Next time, choose more wisely."

She did not want to choose at all. But the Book could not be denied. And so, when immortals once again began to populate the mortal plane, She chose again.

This time, She did not choose a warrior. She chose a protector. A woman, a mother, who shielded her child with her body. And when Death came to her, she accepted her duty with solemn grace.

The protector did not seek out the immortals. They sought her, and only then did she summon the weapon, only then did she kill them. Therefore, she was not as successful as the warrior. There were still immortals when she died.

But Death did not mind that. Not any longer. They would all come to Her one day, She realized. The Book had been written so. The protector had done her duty and no more than that, and so Death was grateful, and greeted her like a friend.

When the time came to choose another, Death chose another like Her friend. Another protector, filled with love and tempered by duty. And so it went. It was not the solution Death sought when She first went to Her Brother. It would not end as soon as She had hoped.

Even so, it was enough. Death was content.

Jason is dead.

Bruce just stares and stares, only tangentially aware of the silence behind him. He stares, and his son is still dead. Still pale in the face, still with a gaping, bleeding hole in his chest. From the periphery, he can see the growing tears in Tim's eyes, Damian's eyes. Even Talia, having awoken amongst the chaos, is wide-eyed and glassy.

He can hear Dick wheezing, the telltale sound of a breakdown, and Cass quietly beginning to sob. Even Helena and Dinah are shuffling behind him, porous with their regret. And Bruce…Bruce feels himself die all over again.

"A shame," Ra's' low voice echoes throughout the silence. "So much knowledge lost, just like that."

And there it is. The rage.

"Perhaps it is for the best. If he was anything like you, Detective, he would've never broken. Not even for his family—"

"YOU DON'T KNOW A DAMN THING ABOUT FAMILY!" Bruce whirls around and screams, getting to his feet and charging directly at Ra's, kicking away anyone that got in his way. He feels the chaos start up again, can hear Dick roar like him as he throws himself against the army, can sense Cass doing the same next to him. Bruce only has eyes for Ra's, the man who had taken his son away from him again, like the Joker had over a year ago.

Bruce draws a batarang and engages against Ra's and his blade, using his near insurmountable anger to fuel his blows. He beats Ra's back with everything he has, and it works and works until it doesn't because Ra's al Ghul is a combatant with centuries of experience. Bruce usually has to be at his very best to beat him, and he isn't right now, far from it. He is blinded by his emotions and it costs him.

Ra's kicks him away and slashes down, and while the cut isn't deep enough to kill, it's deep enough to debilitate, to knock him to his knees. Bruce grabs his chest, groaning in pain as he tries to stifle the blood. Ra's is unmoved.

"Forgive me, Detective. But our game must now come to an end," the Head of the Demon tells him coldly. "The words your now-deceased son spoke to my daughter revealed to me the danger of keeping you alive any longer. You will never bend, you will never take your place among us, and so it is with a heavy heart that I must strike this final blow."

He lifts his sword above his head. Bruce cannot move, so he closes his eyes and waits.

And then… light.

Jason wakes up.

He feels the light, feels the power, emanating from him from every pore of his body. He looks down, and yup, still in his adult body. Soul projection. He wonders how long he can maintain it. Hopefully long enough to get them all out.

When the light fades away, he is standing, and he can feel the shocked stares, the complete and utter silence that follows another miraculous resurrection. He ignores them all — he only has eyes for Ra's al Ghul, who is now gazing at him with a hint of fear.

"Holy hell, kid…" Deathstroke speaks with disbelief, "How many lives does your brother have?"

Despite himself, Jason smirks. "Just one," he answers.

And then he draws the Balance from his soul, flashing the flaming white blade into an arc before stabbing it into the ground. A force erupts from it, sending people flying into every direction. Jason sends his allies to his side behind him, near Talia and his two little brothers. Everyone else is flown into the other walls, sealed behind invisible barriers that no one here except him could ever hope to penetrate. There's only Ra's and him now, as it should be.

Despite that, Jason can't help but turn around and look at his family one last time, before he enters the second fight of his life. They are all completely focused on him, as if he would disappear the moment they took their eyes off him. Jason, truthfully, cannot blame them. He knows what that's like all too well.

He crouches down at the prone Bruce, and reaches out to his father's injured chest. He allows the power of his soul to mend the cut across the armored chest, the one leaking blood. Everyone watches in astonishment as it seals away, as if it never had been there to begin with.

Jason smiles at his father, a hint of sadness. "Forgive me," he asks.

"Jason…" Bruce whispers.

"The exception, Bruce. The exception."

Jason can feel the moment the realization hits Bruce, but by that point he's already turned around to face Ra's, puts his family out of his mind. There's only this left, and then they can finally go home. And if Jason has to kill someone to do it, well…it's hardly the first time he's had to make that choice.

Just like Jason only has eyes for him, Ra's is completely focused on Jason. He isn't a fool, he isn't blind. There is no way he has missed the barriers that his warriors are fruitlessly trying to bypass are secluding Jason and him by their dual lonesome. Nor the determined, cold gaze Jason is leveling at him, the sword at his side. Jason isn't surprised when he takes off his cloak, and then his shirt, and waits as Jason does the same, revealing his own chiseled and scarred chest. They both know where this is heading, where this has always been heading. It's time to decide everyone's fate.

"You're the one person I've never regretted killing," Jason finally says, breaking the silence. He has everyone's attention now, an entire audience in rapture.

Ra's doesn't say anything, just glares back at him with fury and hatred. Ah. He's not happy to hear that.

Jason doesn't care.

"I've killed a lot of people, and all of their deaths, I eventually came to regret. But not yours. Never yours. The only thing I ever regretted about your death is that I didn't crush this stupid little organization of yours right after. They were more trouble than they were worth, in the end." Their bullshit caused Damian's death, after all.

Ra's remains silent. Jason continues on.

"You want to know why? You want to know your future?" Jason laughs, and it's a bitter sound. "How about I tell all of you your futures!" He shouts to the surrounding audience.

He first levels his gaze at Rose, who is watching him with a sort of dread that isn't common on her face. "Rose, Rose, Rose. Your daddy has been pumping you with drugs that mimic his abilities at the cost of your sanity. Eventually you stabbed your own eye out to emulate him, which he then used as an opportunity to store some spare Kryptonite in the socket. Oh, and since your healing factor isn't quite up to par, it's not enough to negate the cancer-inducing radiation. Just FYI, in case you didn't know."

The teenager steps away from the barrier in horror. Jason ignores her in favor of her father, who is now glaring at him too. "And Slade, she killed you. Decapitated you and dumped your body off a waterfall. Not that I blamed her and all, after you murdered her latest boyfriend for a job. Real family solidarity there, right?" He can sense the blood draining away from Slade's face, and smirks. It's cold and cruel, but Jason doesn't care. Not anymore. He's on his last nerve with everyone here, and it's time they all pay.

"Shiva, you're never going to find someone good enough to kill you — at least not anyone willing. I'm not gonna kill you, Connor Hawke isn't going to kill you, Richard Dragon isn't going to kill you, and Cass will never kill you. No, you're gonna grow old, and maybe this time you'll die old instead of getting shot through the heart by your baby daddy over there. Oh, and Cain? You're life is gonna go to shit and you'll be getting the crap beaten out of you for quick cash within the next ten years or so. I suggest you start saving up if you wanna avoid that kind of retirement." Jason doesn't even bother waiting for their reactions. He knows he's hit them where it hurts and that's all that matters.

"Then there's you, Merlyn," and the archer is looking at him too, is swallowing at the look Jason is giving him. He's not looking forward to hearing his fate, not after the four Jason has already thrown out. "You were always the smart one, you know? When the League fell to civil war after this walking cadaver finally died for good, you were the one who tried to stay out of it, who tried not to pick a side. Well, you and Shiva, but she's Shiva and you're you. When you refused to choose, your old boss' granddaughter hunted you down and sliced you to pieces. Couldn't afford to have someone with such uncertain loyalties sticking around the organization, you know."

Jason then whirls his head around back to Ra's, tilting his head in mock wonder. "Speaking of Mara, where is she? What a sad end she had. Always so desperate for approval like her father before her, desperate to keep up your legacy, and all she got for it in the end was a lost head and a dead name. If it weren't for you, maybe she would've made something of herself instead of hinging all her hopes and dreams on your false promises."

"Nothing I ever promised her — or my family — was false," Ra's snaps out.

"Now that," Jason lifts his sword to point it at Ra's, "is the biggest fucking lie I have ever heard in my entire life. But that figures, considering your entire legacy is one big, fat, lie."

"IT IS NOT!" Ra's roars at him and Jason laughs again.

"It is!" Jason contradicts him, shaking his head in amusement. "You want to know how I know that? It's because of what you tried to do to Damian. All your claims to my father about how much you needed him as an heir for when your time came, about how Talia and him would bring your dreams to fruition, and yet, when the Grim Reaper finally came knocking, what did you do?" The third Batman feels his face fall into something dark and foreboding. "You take my big brother hostage to try and force Damian to give his body up to you. Because in the end, your legacy has never been about your family, has never been about bettering the world. It's only ever been about you."

Jason stretches his arms out, looks around at the audience that can't keep their eyes off either of them. "And guess what? Every single person here paid the price for it, and had nothing to show for it. All because they fell for your bullshit, all because they failed to see what you really were: a self-obsessed coward who is so high on himself that he's deluded himself into believing that his wish to make the world pay for his own tragedies is for its own good. All because you found some magic hot springs that made you live a little longer than the rest of us. What a sad story all around." The saddest story in the world, truth be told.

"And you know the best part about this? It's that someone finally did wise up to this little con game you were pulling. You know who?" Jason doesn't bother waiting for an answer; he jabs his thumb behind him, directly at Talia. "Your daughter! Of course, it wasn't until after your death, but better late than never, right? Losing her own son to her niece because of that stupid childhood rivalry you fostered between them for kicks really put things into perspective for her. Of course, considering she was the only al Ghul left after that couldn't have helped either."

Jason grins, and it isn't kind. But of course it isn't. Dick is the nice one, Tim the smart one, Damian the angry one. But Jason? Jason is the mean one. The one who hits it where it hurts and shows absolutely no regret about it. It's never been a quality he's been proud of, but it's also a quality he's not afraid to use. Not if it gets him what he wants.

"You know what she told me before I died? That she was never going to have another kid, never going to perpetuate your bloodline, your poor excuse of a legacy, ever again. That when she died, that was it. Because she hated you in the end. You cost her everything and everyone she loved and gave her nothing but a broken heart in return — the man she wanted to marry, the son she adored, the brother and sister she never really had the chance to know. Even the niece who killed her son still had some of her love in the end. But not you. Never you."

And there it is. The sheer loathing. The complete abhorrence, repugnance. The hate. If looks could kill, Jason would be dead a million times over, burning in the lowest circle of hell for all of eternity. Perfect. Just perfect. Because if this is going to work, then he needs Ra's just like this. Entirely intent on him and ending his life.

"Come on," Jason taunts him. "Tell me that I'm wrong. Refute every word I say. Make your own case."

Ra's doesn't say anything, just continues to glower at him. Jason's smirk widens, stretching across his face like a Cheshire's grin.

"You can't, can you? Because I'm right, and you and I both know it. I wonder, what will happen when I let these barriers down and let all your little soldiers go free? You can't kill all of them, they'd never allow it. And the words that will spill from their lips…how long do you think it will take before your little empire collapses like it did in my timeline? A month? Two?"

Jason sees his opponent tighten the grip on his sword, and goes in for the kill. This is it. After this, it'll be time to put up, and Jason is not gonna stop until he hits the knockout blow.

"There's another way, though," he says, and he sees Ra's narrow his eyes even more at him. "I noticed, by the way. How you avoided engaging me. It's because you figured out I had killed you, didn't you? I never told anyone about that, kept that card close to my chest. And yet you figured it out, and you kept away because you're a coward who fears his death and that never changes, in any timeline."

"But you can prove me wrong." Jason points his sword again. "You duel me, right here, right now. One-on-one. No tricks, no interference. Just you and me and our blades and our convictions. If you win, if you kill me, then they're all yours. But if I win, if I kill you, then my friends, my family and I, all go free. Including your daughter. We get to leave here completely unmolested, and you and your men don't come after us."

Ra's flares his nostrils. "I accept," he says after a moment, and brandishes his blade for combat.

Jason tilts his chin down, smirking one last time before adopting a serious and deadly expression. He twists the Balance in his hand, brandishing it forward. There's a single moment where the world stops.

And then they clash.

In the League of Assassins, there are countless tales of the many duels of Ra's al Ghul. The Demon's Head had more than his fair share of challenges over the course of his immortal life. It was only to be expected with a man in his line of work.

Some were memorable, some were not. Opponents that lasted seconds and minutes, some with notable skill, but not many. What made them so amusing is what they did to stave off the inevitable. Little tricks, desperate moves — they were all creative but ultimately fruitless. Their master always triumphed in the end.

At least, until the Bat came along.

The Bat changed everything. He won the heart of Talia al Ghul, but while he shared her love he spurned the favor of her father, instigating a feud that seemed endless. Best exemplified by his own duel with Ra's, the first of many battles. Midst the afternoon of a burning desert sun, hours of clashing blades, seemingly ending with a bad stroke of luck when a scorpion stung its tail upon the heel of the challenger. And as he laid dying, Talia, in what would soon prove to be a distressing pattern, saved him — giving him the opportunity to finish the duel on his own terms.

It was, perhaps, the first true defeat Ra's al Ghul had ever really suffered since he had become Ra's al Ghul. But still, he recovered, and it was business as usual again. And again the Bat thwarted him. And so it went. And so it kept on going, until doubt crept up. But Ra's always crushed the doubters, so it seemed to never really matter.

Until now.

Until a boy, the Bat's son no less, came back from the dead with a soul and a mind far too old. A boy who snuck away with the One Who is All and Ra's al Ghul's own grandson, right beneath everyone's noses. A boy who died again and then came back alive again, this time in a body that matched his purported age. A boy whose words spoke of a dark future for them all, all because they followed the Demon's Head.

That boy, that man, was now facing Ra's al Ghul head on without a hint of fear on his face. Was matching him blow for blow, blade for blade, in a deadly dance that few could ever hope to match. Was proving himself to be the most dangerous man that the Demon's Head had ever dared to face.

I am the Bat, his actions seemed to say, I am the Bat, and all of you are nothing compared to me.

Jason didn't care about what any of them thought. His mind was completely focused on the battle, on winning. Any joy he could find in finally having his body back, in finally being allowed to let loose, was lost in the pursuit of this one goal. This goal was the only thing that mattered to him in the end.

I finally have you back, he thinks as he clashes his blade against Ra's again, as his thoughts run over the faces that had been lost to the edge of his memory, only preserved by old photographs and recordings, I finally have you back, and I will not let anything take you away from me again. Especially not him. Because he's already taken so much from us, when he never had a right to any of us. Because he's never going to leave us alone if I let him live here. Because he's a monster that should have been put down a long, long time ago, and if I have to be the one to do it, then so be it.

Because this is all I ever wanted to do. To protect all of you.

After over forty-five minutes of fighting, the deciding moment finally came.

Jason pants as he and Ra's began to circle each other again, sweat dripping from his brow and all over his body. There are some cuts on him, none deep enough to be anything more than an annoyance, but Jason knows that this cannot keep on going forever. The longer he keeps the soul projection up, the more of his soul is eaten away by the blade in his hand. And if he depletes it all, then he will die, no questions asked.

Thankfully, he isn't the only one struggling. Ra's is also sweaty, also with his own fair share of cuts. And unlike Jason, he is slowing. He is slowing, and if he doesn't end this soon, he will die too, this time at the blade of his opponent. He will lose in front of his entire organization, a loss of credibility that he may very well never recover from. Not after Jason's words.

They stop. Their eyes meet. And they clash, one final time.

Jason parries the first rushing stab, twisting it aside with his own blade before kneeing Ra's in the chest to send him stumbling back. Then he slashes down, a blow that Ra's only barely able to dodge by shifting his body aside. Jason is undeterred, already spinning with his elbow raised, ramming the point directly into the other man's face, breaking his nose and sending him to the ground.

Ra's rolls with the fall, pushing himself back to his feet with his free hand, but it's too late. Jason kicks him again, leaving him wide open for the final blow. The third Batman levels his blade, and shoves it right through his opponent's chest.

The effect is instantaneous. Ra's' eyes are blown wide open, a gasp released as blood begins to leak like a faucet from his mouth. Jason straightens his back, looking down at the dying man as he keeps one hand on the handle of his weapon. He uses the other to grab his rival's chin, so they are looking directly at each other again.

"I win," Jason whispers victoriously, face determined, frigid.

"I'll…be…back…" Ra's bites out in return as the pain begins to overwhelm him.

Jason shakes his head. "No, you won't. This weapon…is the Balance, Ra's."

At that, the Demon's Head stops his struggle, glancing up at Jason in horror. Jason smirks, satisfaction enveloping his entire being.

"This is the end, Ra's al Ghul. You are never coming back."

And with those words, Jason pulled his sword out with flourish, sending blood flying everywhere. Some of it sprayed over his own dirty, sweat-soaked body, landing on his chest and face. It made for a terrifying visage, especially as the body of one of the most dangerous men in the world collapsed before him.

But before anyone could react, the world froze. Time stopped.

Jason watched silently as the soul of Ra's al Ghul rose from his dead body, completely devoid of all the injuries inflicted upon him in life. The man glared at him, and reached out to him as if to strike him, only to still when a pale hand placed itself on his chest.

"Hello," Death greets him in that perky voice of hers. "I've been waiting for you."

She removes her hand, and a mark appears — a black Ankh, identical to the one around her neck. Ra's stares at the mark, then at Death, before finally dropping his hand with a resigned sigh. He glares at Jason one last time, a mixture of acceptance and grudging respect, before finally fading away.

The moment he is gone, Death glances back at Jason, and goes to him. She stands on the tip of her toes as she gives him a kiss on a cheek and a final smile. "Well done," she says, before she too fades away.

And thus, the world begins again.

Jason does not drop the barriers immediately. No, he hefts his blade on his shoulder, and runs a basilisk stare against every unfriendly face he can find. A warning to them all, and it gladdens him to see most, if not all of them flinch when they meet his gaze.

"He's dead," he plainly states, loud and clear. "He's dead, and he isn't coming back. Dump him in a Lazarus Pit, try to summon back his soul, do whatever the hell you want — he's gone. I would know; you all tried to revive him after the last time I killed him with this weapon, and he didn't come back then. There's no reason to believe he's coming back now."

Silence. They are all afraid of him, all hanging off his every word.

"Now," Jason tries not to lick his lips, because there's blood on his face and he doesn't want to risk getting something, "I'm going to drop the barriers soon. And you, all of you, are going to let me, my family, and my allies go. You're going to let us leave this compound, leave this place, and you won't come after us. I don't really care about what happens to any of you after that, but you're not gonna say a word of anything you've seen today, heard today, thought today. Or else I am going to use every bit of knowledge inside my head to hunt you all down and make sure you never see the light of day again. Understood?"

The room remains noiseless as people gulp and rear back in fear.

"Answer!" Jason barks, and now there are the nods and the noises of affirmation. He makes it a point to glare specifically at the real troublemakers and get confirmation from them as well, before finally smiling.

"Good," he says shortly, then merges the Balance back into his soul, much to everyone's astonishment. He turns away from Ra's al Ghul's cooling corpse and goes to the place where he had thrown his shirt. He picks it up and uses it as a makeshift towel to wipe away the drying blood on his body. And then…and then, he finally looks at his family.

He's been avoiding that for quite some time. Their reactions are the only things he truly fears. He doesn't know what they'll think of him now, hearing him say those words, watching him kill a man like he just did, even if it was to protect them, to get them out of here safely. Most of all, to see him in this body, to see everything he's said about himself in the flesh.

Jason looks at them, and there are blank looks. Surprise is the most dominating feature. Like they can't believe he's really there, like this. Like they don't know what think about him. He knows that this will only be the beginning, so he steels himself and walks toward the invisible wall separating them.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he starts with a sincere tone. "I'm sure you have questions, things to say. But they can wait. We need to leave first, okay?"

At first, it seems his words failed to register. But slowly, nods begin to follow, one by one. The last is Bruce, who frowns but tilts his head in acceptance. That is all Jason needs to see.

He snaps his fingers. The barriers glow until they're gone. Jason gives one last warning look around the room, and then guides the people he loves most out of the chamber.

They're done here.

Jason doesn't drop the soul projection until they're well into the air. The moment the hatches are all closed, the moment they've completed their ascent and leveled out the plane itself, he stands up, and drops it, feeling his body morph back into the teenage form he has been wearing since he first came back in time. Everyone watches him in shock as he gasps out, clutching his chest, trying to breathe again.

"Jason…" he can hear Dick saying in shock and worry, "Your hair…"

He glances at the small mirror Helena offers him, taking it carefully as he eyes his hair. Only half of it is white. That's good. That means he hasn't lost too much of his soul. It will regenerate back within a couple of days, like it always does after one of these stints with the Balance.

"I'm going to need to dye it," he says absentmindedly, "Remind me to buy some black dye when we get back home."

The plane is silent.

Jason gazes up at all of them, and sighs. "What?" he asks carefully.

Damian is first. He flees from his mother's arms and throws himself at him, barreling into his older brother's chest and clutching his newly-formed shirt. Jason lets out an "Oof," but before he can breathe, he is quickly dogpiled by his other siblings. First Tim, then Cass, and then Dick, and they stay like that for a long while. Jason can see the women in the plane smiling as they watch, and can only sigh again. He's too much of a pushover for his own good.

After several minutes of mass-cuddling, Jason is finally let go, finally allowed to breathe. He gives them all comforting touches, then glances at the last member of his family. Bruce is watching him carefully, and feels his heart sink.

And then Bruce goes to him and throws his arms around him too, and Jason feels his heart draw away from that growing pit.

"Don't you ever do that again," Bruce growls out, both in love and admonishment. He briefly pulls away to look at his son directly. "Do you understand me, Jason? You are not allowed to die again for a very, very long time. Alright?"

"Alright," Jason agrees easily enough, and they're hugging again, and Jason, Jason is happy.

He's home. He's finally home.

Next chapter will be the last chapter. Hope you enjoyed this, and please, tell me what you thought of it.

Oh, and credit to Roysovitch on Deviant Art. The Flaming Blade he created for Jason for his Earth-27 AU is what inspired me to create the Balance.