Chapter 6: Till death do us part

Jazz's warm hand on his chest felt… right. Her presence, her head on his shoulder, the way her legs were pressed against his.

Now, after the high of the fight together and having a clear head — thank you, brother-in-law that he never knew he needed — he could sort through how she affected him without the pressure of imminent death.

He never felt particularly inclined to have an actual relationship with anybody. He tried, and some of them lasted more than others, but there was always something missing.

For a while he thought maybe he was too broken, too removed from humanity to actually be able to feel real human emotions; that after his resurrection there was only space in his heart for violence and vengeance.

For fucks sake, he had been such a child. Looking back to those years he knew he had been acting up and giving up on something he didn't actually understand.

He was capable of love — he loved Alfred, and Dick, and Timbit, and Cass and every addition to the family. He loved his Crime Alley and his people, and he would die defending them. He loved his goons and he didn't set up the goonion just for laughs. If you got him drunk enough, he would admit he maybe loved Bruce too.

But what he felt for Jazz? He hadn't felt it before. He wasn't sure it was love, but what he could be positive about is that he felt comfortable around her.

That she picked up what he let down without him needing to say a word was a plus.

Jason chuckled, enjoying Tim's distraught face as he looked back and forth between them, his mind reeling, looking for an explanation.

"You are not married." Tim accused. "I'd know."

"Oh?" He highly doubted it but let it slide. "But it's the truth. Isn't it, darling?"

Jazz gave him a look and slapped him on the chest. "We got magically married by a ghost today— I guess yesterday at this point." She added when she noticed the clock on the other wall marking three in the morning.

"You too?" Conner said, reaching for some cookies and more tea. "B didn't give any explanation— wait, you said a ghost did this?"

Tim looked at Superboy, frowning. "Ghosts can't magically marry people." He said.

Jazz breathed in slowly. "This one can. It's Elvis." How she said it with a straight face, Jason didn't know. "Ghosts have obsessions — a purpose, a meaning, a goal. They have to fulfill it or they fade. This particular pain in everyone's ass is a Vegas Elvis impersonator obsessed with making 'perfect matches'." She made the air quotes.

"And you guys are a match?"

Jason watched the trio in front of them carefully. So they were also affected by this ghost? Good thing that blondie had learned about the whole vigilante thing recently, or all of this would be an even worse shitshow than it was already.

Although, given how he was still eyeing Jazz's weapons on the table, the guy wasn't that used to their second life yet.

"Why, surprised?" Jason answered Tim, cutting off whatever Jazz was about to say.

"That someone is actually able to put up with you, yeah." He replied with the same glare.

Jazz cleared her throat, funny enough, reminding them of Alfred.

"As I was saying," her glare was very Alfred too, "this ghost's magic affects people in a way normal magic cannot break. We are looking into it, don't worry."

"We?" Bernard finally spoke, averting his eyes from Jazz's stuff.

"My brother and—"

The woman stood up, glaring at seemingly nothing. Fast as lighting, she picked up a knife from her discarded vest and threw it at the other side of the room.

"Ow!"

Everyone turned to look at where they heard the voice. In front of their eyes, Danny — well, more like Phantom — materialized out of thin air. With a knife right in the middle of his chest.

Danny frowned at his sister. "Rude!"

"You deserve it." She picked up another one, taking aim.

Two things happened at the same time: the trio on the opposite couch ducked, just in case; and Jason stood up to grab his wife's hand before she got to throw the blade.

"Easy there."

She yanked her arm out of his grasp, glaring at him. At least she put the knife down.

"What the hell was that?" Danny approached the group, ghostly tail forming a pair of legs before he completely descended and touched ground. He wasn't happy when he yanked the knife from his chest. "At least your aim has improved."

"I was aiming for your head." She grit through her teeth.

"Are you still mad?"

"What do you think!"

Jason moved away from the enraged woman, just in case a brawl went down between the siblings. Jazz looked seconds away from jumping at her brother's throat, and he was not idiot enough to risk his life by getting in the way.

"I'm sorry, ok!" Danny lifted his arms, trying to appear less threatening. "I... I know it seems sudden, but I swear there was a lot going on!"

"That's the thing, Danny. There's always something going on!" Jazz had many talents. One was, apparently, going from murderous intent to worried sister in a matter of seconds. "That's how they get you. That's how he gets you — a talk about responsibility and helping others and how there's no other way and—"

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

His tone was final. His eyes were glowing. Danny — Phantom — wasn't known for being serious, always striking the bats as some kind of trickster entity; but in that moment Jason could guess at some darkness inside the younger man that wasn't there before.

He didn't have all the information, of course, but apparently Jazz didn't either. Jason watched her face go from confused to horrified to angry and finally, heartbroken.

"What did he do to you?"

Danny didn't look at her eyes. Instead, he transformed and let his human body take over his ghost.

"Can we— Can we drop this? Please."

You could hear a pin drop in the room. Dick wasn't even breathing, hand frozen in the air with his teacup still in it.

Jazz' body gave up, falling back to the sofa like a dead weight. Her expression was haunted. What did this even mean? What could have happened, that Jazz could guess just by Danny's avoidance, that made the young man the Ghost King?

The situation wasn't funny anymore.

Jason cleared his throat. "So…," he tried, "the ghost?"

Danny looked relieved at his intervention. "Lost him somewhere across the world. I'm sure he'll go back to the Ghost Zone eventually," he shrugged, "but until then… back to square one."

Jason looked back at Jazz, but she was still gone.

"What's the plan now?"

Danny spared one last worried look at his sister before looking at him. "I think I could get some answers by asking around the Zone. And maybe beg Frostbite to have a go with the Infimap." Nothing he said meant anything to Jason. Danny realized that and chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "The yetis we mentioned? Frostbite is their leader. He also guards a relic that can basically take you anywhere and anywhen you want. It's pretty neat."

That sounded way too powerful to just drop casually in conversation, or call it "neat" with such nonchalance, but Jason would be the first to admit that you develop a certain kind of tolerance to craziness in their line of work.

"How long?" Tim finally spoke to their guest.

"What?"

"How long until you have answers?"

"Gee, Timmy. Don't be so hard on the kid." Dick intervened. "Are you in a rush to get divorced?"

By the way blondie blushed and hid his face in his hands, yes, he was in a rush. Jason half wondered what had happened between the three — he remembered Tim talking about his boyfriend, but he was positive he wasn't talking about the super. How awkward. He almost jumped in to poke at the others but movement on his side distracted him.

"You okay?" He asked Jazz while the others discussed Tim's particular conundrum.

"Not really, no." She said after a moment of hesitation.

Unsure what to answer to that, he circled his arm back around her and squeezed her against his chest. Cass liked when he did that, but she always preferred quiet support to comforting words, and she enjoyed his hugs.

Jazz tensed for a moment before she tried to relax, so maybe she wasn't so keen on hugs as his sister. She still patted his leg, acknowledging the gesture.

"Awwww."

Both turned back to the conversation, finding the room fuller than before — Alfred was back with more tea and pastries, and Bruce walked in civies right behind him. The older man froze a little when he noticed the pair, one of his eyebrows twitching in the way Jason knew there would be questions later. He ignored them both.

"Danny." Jazz cut whatever Dick was going to add. "What was that about a royal bond?"

The other got very quiet, eyes fixed on his sister's. She got out of the hug and straightened her back, waiting for her answer.

"I don't know."

Jason could almost physically feel the young woman's rage boil under her skin. "Explain."

"I really don't. I— They don't actually teach about marriage in King school, Jazz."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah! Why do you keep asking?"

"Because I highly doubt you actually listened in class."

Someone coughed a laugh. Danny's face became red as he crossed his arms. "That was very mean. I don't like your lack of faith in me."

"But am I wrong?" She crossed her arms too, mirroring her sibling, and lifting one eyebrow. She knew she was right, but she still had to make him say it.

Jason rolled his eyes at the show, glancing at Dick watching the sibling spat while munching on more cookies.

"You are not wrong." Danny finally admitted in a quiet voice. "But I'm telling the truth about not covering this!" He quickly added. "I did get some etiquette classes but—"

"Who? The classes, who taught you." She added when Danny frowned, confused.

"Dora."

"Then go ask her."

Danny scoffed. "As if I have the time. Do it yourself." He rolled his eyes. "I have to look for the Elvis ghost."

"Whose fault is it that the ghost escaped, Danny?"

"Yours!" He bit back. "If you hadn't freaked out so much about nothing—"

"Nothing?" Jazz stood up, breathing heavily. "Do you call finding out your baby brother is a King against his better judgment 'nothing'!?"

"Hey, darling—"

"Don't—!" Jazz slapped Jason's hand away from where he tried to place it on her arm. She was tense, so tense he believed anything would make her jump. "Just. Not right now."

"Jazz, listen—" Danny lifted his hands when her burning glare fell on him "Calm down, okay? We will figure this out. If not us, someone else must know. There are records, and you know how ghosts are sometimes about records."

"Ghost Writer."

Jason didn't know who this ghost was, but Danny nodded, lowering his hands. "You can try his haunt and check that. I could have a look at the Keep too— or if you want you can do it yourself."

"I can't just uproot my life here in Gotham for this Danny." Jazz started pacing, the gears turning in her head. "I have a test next week, and— and I was job hunting and— You understand that research takes time, yes?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "I know. But what else is there, Jazz? If you are so dead set on breaking this royal bond, if it cannot wait, then it is up to you what you are going to miss in the Living World."

Bruce cleared his throat. "Are you in Gotham University?"

She blinked and looked at the Waynes as if she forgot they were there at all. Jason watched Bruce closely. "Yes. I'm currently getting my degree at Gotham U. Psychiatry."

Tim and Dick glanced at each other.

"You can ask for accommodations and time off as long as you need," Bruce tilted his head, "and if that doesn't work definitely let me know. If they want to keep getting the Wayne Enterprises internships and donations they better let you take time off."

Jazz made a face, which Jason couldn't blame her for. So far she had taken very well being in the presence of Bruce Wayne but the reminder that this man alone held so much power over a city can be an uncomfortable stab. Even when such power it's used for your benefit.

"I can't… I've never… My grades—"

"Will not be affected. I can make sure of that. I don't know — we can figure out something," Bruce glanced at Jason, who nodded, "but you won't have to worry about anything until you and Jason are back safe and sound."

She blinked slowly. She turned towards Jason, her worried eyes glued to his face. He tried to channel his calm and collected demeanor when he dealt with victims, projecting security so she would stop freaking out like this. He nodded.

Jazz licked her lips and hummed. "Fine." Nobody missed how Danny's shoulders dropped at her declaration. "We'll try Ghost Writer and see from there."

After Jazz said yes, they immediately got to work. Introductions went faster than they should have — both parties knew of each other before this whole event, even Bernard knew who the trickster Phantom was after having listened to Tim ramble about him, or so the blond said.

Jason felt like everything was a blur as he went to the showers by Alfred's orders, and got ready in civilian clothes to get on the road. He also checked his messages and informed his goons that he would be away on a mission and to hold the fort until he was back.

After spending so much time with Jazz, her absence felt… weird. Like walking with his balance completely off.

It wasn't the painful sensation that brought him to her apartment in the first place, but more like an uncomfortable pull from inside his chest telling him to go after her. He could ignore it like he could ignore being hungry or thirsty, but he understood it was a part of him until they found answers to… whatever he got involved with.

Marriage.

Huh.

He wasn't the marrying type. He had never dreamed of a wife and kids and picket fence; it just wasn't something people like him could dream about — first as a kid from the streets and then as a crime fighter.

After he came back from the dead, he kinda… never considered he could be something else? There was so much to do in Gotham, so much to fix, and it never crossed his mind the possibility of hanging the cape and settling down with someone.

But apparently fate had something else in store for him.

He shook his head, lifting the bag with his discarded suit and adjusting the strap on his shoulder. There was no such thing as fate or destiny, he made his own destiny. He clawed his way out of his own grave, he could do whatever he wanted.

He arrived at the expansive garage and grabbed the Mercedes keys from the key box, walking towards the shiny black car that, while expensive and high tech, would be the best for blending in the small town Jazz was from.

Jason drove towards his apartment first and grabbed a spare suit, some weapons just in case, and the go bag he always had ready for a quick exit. Then it was back to Jazz's apartment, where she had gone earlier to get ready for their trip.

She waited for him at the door of the building, wearing civilian clothes with her black biker jacket, arms crossed and a duffle bag at her feet. She wasn't pleased.

"What's this?" She asked the minute he rolled the window down.

"A car."

"I can see that." She didn't make a move to get in. It started to rain, because of course. "What's with the rich guy's car?"

"Turns out my daddy is the richest man in town," he wiggled his eyebrows, "and let me play with his toys."

She huffed, unbothered by the rain. This was so much fun. He never wanted to stop messing with her. Especially if she was going to act so antagonistic and pout in frustration.

"I thought that making the trip on a bike was a bad idea." He added. "I love speeding down the road and forget about my problems like everybody else, but fifteen hours on a bike carrying my equipment and bags is not my idea of fun."

The rain started falling harder, helping with his point.

He watched her eye the passenger seat and the back seat, almost hearing her thoughts considering if she should choose being in close proximity to him for a long car ride, or ignore him in the backseat.

The rain starting to become a downpour pushed her to make her decision.

"Alright, but you are driving the whole way." She stomped her way to the passenger side and opened the door, threw her bag to the backseat without caring where it fell, and quickly sat and put on the seatbelt. "And I can choose the music."

"I thought that was the driver's right?"

"Rights revoked." She pulled out her phone, opening the music app.

"By who?" He started driving down the street, glancing at how she connected the phone to the car's bluetooth.

"By me."

"That doesn't sound fair."

"Hm-mm," she wasn't listening to him, scrolling through her playlists. "Oh yeah."

He wanted to ask what she was focusing so hard on, but the speakers started blasting Backstreet Boys' 1997 hit "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)".

Jason glared at her when he stopped at a red light. "Really?"

Her grin was wide and totally unauthentic. "What, you don't like one of the best songs of our generation?"

Did he have to bring up that he was dead for six months and catatonic for about two years, and then trained with an assassin cult in the mountains as a valid reason why he didn't feel connected to the song?

He understood very quickly that Jazz wouldn't care about anything he had to say. She was smiling, waiting to get a reaction from him.

As the Backstreet Boys continued filling the silence in the car, he started moving the car again as the light turned green.

Did she want some kind of undignified reaction at having to listen to boy bands? Fine. She wouldn't get one. He wasn't a fan of boy bands but he wasn't going to be a little bitch over it.

If Jazz was trying to vent her anger on him and goad him into starting an argument to misplace her frustration, he wasn't going to enable her. Because yeah, he was very aware she wasn't mad at him per say, he was just an easy target.

And Red Hood was nobody's punching bag.

He smiled as wide as her and started humming to the song, fingers tapping on the steering wheel at the rhythm of the song.

It was worth it by the way she finally shut up and leaned back on her seat, huffing and shaking her head, murmuring something about bratty younger brother behavior.

His smile grew. He had won round one.