Saturday was supposed to be Barbara's day to relax, or at least, to relax as much as one could when following a major Arkham breakout and the city was under complete chaos.

Twenty four hours ago Oracle found out about the escape and this was the first time she stopped to rest since that. Real rest, since the other times she just took bathroom breaks and went to microwave an 'emergency food' tupperware Alfred always left for her for when she had a bad day and couldn't cook. Bless that man.

Barbara could say she had a restless sleep, which made sense given the circumstances; what didn't make sense were the screams she clearly remembered, asking her to stop, asking her to look again, asking her to-

She rushed back into her wheelchair and then to her Oracle set up, waking up the computers she didn't turn off before going to sleep, and running to open a folder she had created and abandoned when it didn't become a priority.

The Fentons. For some reason, the name was on the tip of her tongue when she awoke, reminding her that she had promised to look more into their research but never got around to actually doing it.

What stood out to her was how unusual it was - you had scientists debunking magicians, you had magicians obsessed with their craft, you had occultists interested in what lies beyond and real life necromancers with grimoires on how to reanimate the dead.

But all in one? That promised, at least, to be a fun read.

Since she had cleared Jason's girlfriend's background and she had more pressing stuff to look into, Barbara pushed it aside and simply left a note to check it out later. Something she never did.

The universe, or maybe a higher power, wanted her to look into it now.

So she did.

Starting with the easy and accessible part, she went back to the research she already did almost a month ago. They had a presence on the internet - an official 'Fentonworks' site existed, but it was outdated and not very user friendly; but gave her a starting point, and this time she was focusing on the parents instead of Jasmine.

Ecto scientists were how they called themselves, despite nobody else was seriously working in that field. Humble origins, Madeline from a small family of farmers in the countryside, Jackson from a family of self proclaimed witch-hunters (no notes on the family name, Fenton-Nightingale, in any of the Justice League Dark records). One college friend, Vlad Masters, had a fallout with the couple after an accident during an experiment and then a prolonged hospitalization.

While any records of the children had been… worryingly escarce, Barbara had easily found every paper they published during their early career, their proposals for funding, their entries for science competitions.

Surprisingly, and funny enough, Barbara found a request for funding to Wayne Enterprises, dated fifteen years ago. The project, from what she could gather even if practical electronics wasn't her forte, consisted of some kind of… portal? To what they assured was the dimension ghosts came from. It was nonsense, so it was rejected immediately.

Now that she knew what to look for, she found out they did get the funding - from LexCorp.

Barbara frowned, taking note of this.

From there on she found more projects Lex funded, stopping when his brief stint as President happened. Every project was more worrying than the one before: weapons, methods of containment, investigation on new materials that ghosts couldn't phase through.

A new billionaire took up the task of funding this trainwreck: DALV Co. Barbara rolled her eyes at the name, laughing when she guessed it was Vlad Masters' doing. Why would a long lost friend who hadn't contacted them in twenty years suddenly siphon millions into this madness?

Her answer was simple: the portal was a success.

She found articles, papers, personal email - piles upon piles of documentation about a successful kick start of the Ghost Zone portal project.

By the dates, Jasmine must have been around seventeen and Daniel fourteen or fifteen. But there was nothing about them. Just a worrying footnote in Jack's email to their 'mysterious' benefactor about taking a brief break because they had to take his son to the doctor after a 'nasty shock back at the lab'.

Barbara took note of this. Mainly because there was nothing else since then about the kids in either their personal emails or official photos. If she didn't already know these two had family she wouldn't have guessed going by their online footprint only.

The woman shook her head. She already knew about the neglect, there was no need for wasting time feeling sad for a stranger.

So Barbara kept digging and digging, the sun outside the Clocktower going down and the night creeping back in.

It was about time she got some food into her body, so she went and did it. Sometimes, stepping back helped get the bigger picture, something she tried to beat into Dick's head when he came by moping about a case.

Once she came back feeling a bit fresher and sharper, she stopped her wheelchair in front of the computer, but didn't reach her keyboard just yet. The multiple screens showed everything she got so far in her research, and while it was plenty, she had this feeling she was missing important information. Something told her the puzzle had pieces missing and it didn't matter how much she tried to put what she had together, it would always be an incomplete image.

Missing pieces…

She looked at the dates, making a timeline in her head. There were periods of time that the Fenton elders didn't publish anything or made any big purchases for science projects or for the house, not even evidence of a vacation - nothing that justified the downtime.

Oracle pulled up the research on the Fenton kids. Nothing of note here. There were gaps here as well, especially after they finished high school, but gap years weren't that unusual so she didn't take note of that in her initial research.

Gaps. So many gaps.

And they fit with each other.

Every time the parents vanished from the face of Earth, the kids did too. Now that she noticed, it rubbed her the wrong way.

She launched herself now into investigating these gaps and what they were doing in these months. Years of one-to-two month long gaps, paced out enough to fool the untrained eye.

Jasmine's online college application was in one of the periods of time she could find information easily, but apart from an average performance in her courses, there was nothing of note about her studies. Good grades, but no extra courses or voluntary work, like she did in highschool.

Daniel never applied for college, now that she was paying attention. There was nothing about him, online or otherwise. After the first hospital visit - nasty shock indeed, he had electrical burns in his left arm, probable nerve damage -, there were no follow ups, no check ups, no nothing.

This went beyond neglect. Barbara was starting to suspect that the Fenton kids had decided to help their parents' endeavors in these 'gaps', in these probable top secret projects, so they had too many reasons to not attract unnecessary attention.

If someone took the time to erase this after leaving all the shady stuff the Fenton elders did for LexCorp, she feared what she could find.

It was Sunday morning when she finally made a breakthrough.

Her morning coffee went back up her throat, and Barbara was glad that she hadn't eaten anything else since last night.

Videos. Reports. Autopsies. Dissections. Records upon records of atrocities committed by these two 'scientists' in the name of progress, their names proudly written down next to yet another mysterious benefactor - the Ghost Investigation Ward.

Oracle swallowed her discomfort and went back into the fray with renewed determination. She dug up anything she could find on these GIW people. Where they came from, who they worked for, what they wanted. Level of threat against the world. She started drafting an official report for the Justice League, just in case, since this sounded like something they should be aware of.

Government, it said in the official records, but there was nothing she could see that wasn't smoke and mirrors to sound big and important. Private money, probably Lex, funded the whole operation - and they hid it well, since she couldn't find actual proof that backed her suspicions.

It was way past Sunday midnight, maybe already Monday morning, when Oracle decided she had collected enough incriminating evidence on the GIW, the Fenton parents and, sadly, the Fenton children.

She found non-official records of data on Jasmine and Daniel, something about 'ecto contamination' and 'liminality', from around the same time Jack and Maddie signed on a report about the same topic for the GIW.

What sickened her more was that the kids - Jasmine and Daniel, they were not children by this point, were very into the idea. Comments and jokes filled the non-official reports, quips about the process, silly dares to their sibling to see who could analyze the data faster.

Jason was going to be so heartbroken. And it was her damn fault for not being thorough.

Worst part of all this dumpster fire? It was totally legal. Lex passed some stupid laws about 'ecto entities' that basically gave free reign to cut open these ghost-people without repercussions.

Barbara felt her eyes start to water as she opened the direct channel with the Batcave.

Jason was going to kill her. He had been right about suspecting Jasmine and she had dismissed his worries because they looked good together.

"Hey, O!" Tim answered. Weird, Bruce must have been back already from the League mission. "Glad to see you are alive."

"I've been kind of distracted," she chose not to raise the alarm for the moment. "Is B around there?"

Tim actually laughed. "He's moping because Jazz found out about Hood's secret identity and she kind of beat his ass, but I think-"

"I need to talk to him." Barbara didn't mean to be so harsh, but if the Fenton woman knew about the family secret by now then it was a worse than bad situation.

Bless his soul, Tim got the urgent tone in her voice. "Got it. Let me connect the call with his phone, he must be having lunch by now."

Lunch? Barbara looked at the clock in her computer. It was afternoon. Monday afternoon. Already.

"Oracle." Bruce didn't do pleasantries, even less when she called and even less when she called his personal phone.

"Bruce, we have a situation."

"... I'm listening."


Saturday afternoon.

Was it Saturday afternoon already? It was too early, if you asked Jason. He felt like he had been run over by a truck, and the shower and sleep didn't help ease the feeling at all.

He wanted to be with Jazz. She usually made everything better by just being there.

Also, he totally stood her up. They had a date and he stood her up. Was 'I'm trying to wrangle all the crazies of this city back to Arkham and not die in the process' a valid excuse to give to a girlfriend you totally stood up?

She was going to be furious.

Or maybe not?

Jason checked his chat with her and she hadn't said anything that suggested she was mad at him. The cute message about sleeping well and thinking about him that morning meant that she wasn't mad, right?

He smiled at the screen, letting himself bask in the idea that he didn't fuck this up before it even had a chance to develop.

Scrolling up, he found again the selfie with his dumb brother and the purple gremlin. He zoomed on her smiling face, wondering if he could just… have this. If he could wake up to silly messages after a night of patrol, if he could stop worrying about excuses and rescheduling dates, if he didn't need to tell her lies or half truths over text when he needed to rush because of an emergency.

Maybe - Maybe her knowing wasn't a bad idea.

Maybe she already knew, too.

Last night she looked like she already knew, unfazed by the chaos of Tim breaking into her apartment, bleeding and needing stitches, of a fight about to break out, of his literal bloodied hands on hers.

"I'd take the secret to my grave." She had said with a little frown. Determined, decided, completely serious.

He believed her. After all, she had kept her own secret, whatever that was, for so long. Maybe if he came clean about the Red Hood thing she would tell him? Should he say he knew she was hiding something, or would that frighten her more?

He didn't want to make her feel scared. Ever.

Let's say she knows… How much does she know? How much did she believe about the legends? Had she created a watered down version that is easy to digest? He refused to believe nothing would change between them after coming clean about it.

Not that he was really trying to hide anymore. He was a coward by not telling her directly, by waiting for her to say it first, and then calling her pet names.

It really was a mess. He only needed to tell her and it all would be fine. Why was it so hard to just say the words?

"Salagadoola mechicka boola, Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo."

The heck?

"Put them together and what have you got, Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!"

That was -

Was Jazz signing? Singing Disney? Was she really blasting Disney songs so loud that he could hear from his room?

"Yes, salagadoola means, mechicka booleroo, but the thing-a-mabob that does the job is bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!"

Something heavy was moved around, her voice rising above the music coming from the speakers as she did whatever she was doing. What was she doing? Chores? It was such a chores song.

He could just ask.

He could just go over there and ask and maybe join her and talk about rescheduling that date. Could it really be that easy?

Jason chuckled as he finally got out of bed, the smile not leaving his face as he listened to her giving her all singing Disney songs, a little bit off key, but not enough to make it at all unpleasant.

Okay, maybe he was biased. Sue him.

She was starting a rendition of "You are Welcome" as he finished getting dressed and went to the door of his apartment. Out on the hallway the music was somehow louder, and Jason was glad there were no other people on this floor to come out and complain about the music, letting him have this moment to himself.

He rang the doorbell, realizing after he did that there was no way she could hear it with the noise-

The door opened.

She was radiant. A big smile stretched her lips as she saw it was him at the door, her eyes shining with emotions he wasn't sure he could decipher. She was happy, excited, and definitely not angry at him for ditching their date.

"Jay!" She pulled her phone from her shorts pocket and taped the screen. The music stopped. "Hi. Sorry, did I wake you up?"

Did she guess he had slept in today? She had left messages that morning, but nothing that said she knew he wouldn't respond or why.

"Nah, I was already moving around."

She nodded and moved aside to let him in.

Jason has been there not long ago, but the blood on the floor and the kitchen table had been already cleaned. Good. Blood stains were hard to clean if left alone for too long. Smart girl.

"What's up?" She closed the door behind her and went back to wiping the counters in the kitchen. "Sorry, I'm just in the zone right now. If I stop cleaning I won't want to get back to it, but I'm listening!"

"Everything okay? Why are you cleaning all of the sudden?"

Jazz scoffed and glanced at him over her shoulder. "You won't believe what happened to me last night!"

"Oh?" He walked closer, resisting the urge to hug her from behind and choosing to lean on the wall as she did her thing. "What happened?"

"Red Robin crashed through my window, injured, and asked me to help him! Can you believe it?"

It sounded fake that Timbo asked with actual words, but he accepted her comment. "Did you help him?"

"Of course," she huffed, "I wouldn't let people be hurt if I can do something to help. But the thing is he bled all over the place and I knew I needed to clean it all before it stained, and then I started organizing the kitchen and I couldn't stop since."

He watched carefully as she talked, stepping on the tip of her toes trying to reach the highest cabinets. Taking pity on her, he took the cloth from her hands and started wiping the parts she couldn't reach.

"I had another visitor." She smiled at him.

"Is that so?" He didn't smile, he couldn't smile back. Would be too obvious.

"Hm-hm. Red Hood swung by as well to check on me."

"How nice of him."

He felt her eyes fixed on him, waiting. He wondered if he had been too obvious last night -

(Of course he was, he deliberately called her 'darling' for fucks sake)

- and if she had enough evidence to make the jump and ask.

Like a coward, he decided to change the topic.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." Finally he looked back at her, having finished busying himself with wiping the cabinets. "About the date."

"Yeah?" Still, she didn't look mad. Curious, maybe.

"Sorry for canceling at the last minute," her lips twitched with a little smile, but she didn't interrupt him. "Want to reschedule?"

"Sure. Dinner tonight?" He must have made a face as he opened his mouth to bullshit an excuse for why he couldn't that night, because she tilted her head and said: "Tomorrow for lunch?"

It was really that easy, huh? He felt a pressure leave his chest, his shoulders relaxing immediately.

"Lunch sounds lovely."

Jazz placed a hand on his cheek, smiling up to him. She did the same thing last night - was it on purpose? Was it her way to tell him she knew?

"Then it's a date," her lips curved in a teasing smile, "darling."

Oh.

He felt his cheeks burn a little.

She knew. She knew and she was messing with him. All thoughts about how much exactly she knew and if Jazz was actually aware of his criminal activities left his mind. If she knew enough and still looked at him like that, then it wasn't unreasonable to think she'd want him still if - when she learned the ugly parts too.

He wanted this, he wanted to feel like this, so at peace, forever.

Just like last night, he put his hand over hers on his cheek. She giggled, recognition shining in her eyes. But unlike last night, he leaned down and kissed her like he wanted to before Oracle interrupted them.

This time there were no nosy siblings, no puddles of blood, no emergencies; just the sounds of the deceivingly calm city coming from the opened window and the touch of her lips on his.

When they parted, he couldn't stop smiling. He didn't want to, actually.

"It's a date."