Chapter Text
The night was cold and dark, it was starting to snow in Gotham. The tops of the buildings were covered in snow, with no signs of the moon or stars in the polluted sky, and Red Hood was already ending his patrol after kicking the asses of some burglars disturbing the peace in his area. It was going to be a good night if the Bats hadn’t asked for his support chasing some weird magician who stole something apparently valuable—a dangerous gun.
The relationship with them was still risky after everything—you know, the dying, the revenge, and some other unspoken issues. However, they were mostly working together. Batman let Red Hood keep his area with the deal that he would be informed of what was happening there and with Red Hood most of the time.
Still, Jason kept his distance from them, never really asking for support and never staying longer than necessary around the Bats, even though he had to admit calling Red Robin more than once for help with information on his cases—the replacement was really a full detective.
When he got to the place, Batman with Robin was up on some roof fighting a middle-aged man. Nightwing was in the same situation but with a man in his twenties. Red Robin was kinda fighting an old man. Why was Gotham always like this?
-He doesn't have it; some other version of him must -Red Robin informed the rest after putting down the old version of the thief, and that was when Jason realized that they were all fighting the same man in different ages. His attention went to some small figure hiding behind some dumpsters. He kicked the dumpster to the left for a better view, and it turned out to be a kid around seven years of age with the same hair color as the other versions. The child seemed panicked at being found, Jason's gun still aimed at his head.
-We can do this the hard way or the easy -Before finishing, the kid threw the weird gun that the fight was all about. Jason looked at the child for a moment, locking eyes, and something felt off. After reaching for the gun, his whole vision went white, his knees went weak, and he felt his helmet hit the ground with a dry thud—then nothing for a while.
The feeling in his body was weird but cozy, like being close to a fireplace with ants crawling over his skin. He started to wake up; he could hear the Demon Brat talking to Batman. They were looking at Dick, who was on the ground. Jason's vision was blurry, and his helmet felt really heavy on his head and misaligned.
He sat down and saw his hands—they were tiny. His gloves were too big, and for a second, he thought something was wrong with his vision. He kept looking at his hands, willing them to change back, too distracted to notice the three other men watching him carefully.
-Red Hood? -It was Dick, of course, but something was different about him too—his hair was longer, and his uniform seemed loose. They figured out that it was a de-aging power that hit them, but that didn't explain why Jason was a little child and the others seemed to be just a few years younger. Jason couldn't answer; his body still felt weird.
To the lack of response, Nightwing tried taking off his helmet.
-No! -Todd screamed, and his voice was really high, like a little child's. He put his hands on his helmet to keep it in place. He just needed a moment. He looked at Batman, who was closer than before. At first glance, he seemed the same, but on closer inspection, he was bigger than the current Bruce. Tim also looked the same as always—standing behind Dick and Bruce, watching Jason carefully—but thinner than an hour ago.
-What did you do, Todd? -Damian asked in an accusatory tone. He was the only one who didn’t seem affected at all.
-Are you blaming me? You awful demon -Todd was mad at the question. He was just getting the gun—how could it be his fault? He planned to defend himself, but when he stood up, the cold reality hit him like a bucket of water.
His pants and boxers slipped down, and his shirt hung like a dress, reaching below his knees. He hurriedly tried to pull up his pants, only for them to fall again. He could hear Damian laughing at him and silently thanked the universe he still had his helmet on—he couldn’t face the others.
-We need to get back to the Batcave -Bruce said in a neutral tone. It was difficult to read his emotions through the mask, but his voice hinted at concern. The relationship with Bruce was awkward—the one that needed the most repair.
The cold of the night was affecting Jason, whose legs were partially exposed. He took off his helmet and immediately saw the wide-eyed stares his brothers were giving him.
-What? Y'all never seen a kid before? Weirdos -Jason got defensive under their stares.
-Not one as cute as you -Dick quickly pinched his cheeks while picking up Jason’s scattered gear.
-We’re going to be there—give us a minute -Dick said, and Jason was grateful for the excuse to leave. Bruce tried to argue, but the perimeter was clear, and Dick had his car.
As they left, Dick draped Jason's Red Hood jacket over his shoulders, covering him up.
-Quit smiling, Dickhead -But Dick didn’t quit.
-I have to carry you, Little Wing.
-No, you don’t.
-Yes, I do. I’m not letting you walk barefoot in the snow. Also, I won’t tell—don’t worry.
He was right—Jason’s feet were too small for his shoes, and when he tried to walk, he almost tripped. He hated when Grayson was right.
He let himself be picked up by Dick, grumbling as the man’s stupid smile widened.
-Hey! -The idiot just kissed his forehead. Jason slapped Dick’s face with his free hand while the other held on so he wouldn’t fall.
-I’m sorry, I’m sorry -Dick said, but he clearly wasn’t sorry, still smiling. He only stopped when Jason promised more slaps if he did it again.
When they got in the car, Dick buckled Jason into his seat and pulled down the mirror. Jason felt his heart stop for a second—his hair was completely black, and his eyes were a striking blue. His cheeks were full of baby fat, with freckles dotting his nose. Judging by his height, he was about six or seven.
He didn’t remember much from his childhood, but now he felt small and vulnerable. The others were still themselves—just slightly younger. Meanwhile, he was just a kid again.
But this was just Gotham’s usual weirdness… right? He’d be back to normal by his next patrol... right?