"Don't let nobody tell you your life is over. Be every color that you are." -Rush by Aly & AJ
Regent Masterlist A03 Mundane Macabre Part 23
Turns out, Danny’s hearing is good enough to pick up the baby’s new heartbeat.
With an assurance that she did not in fact have a parasitic alien in her stomach, Jazz revealed her tiny bump with a smile and swore him to secrecy.
“But Jazz, this is great news!”
“It’s not like we’re not going to tell anyone and show up for dinner one day with a newborn in tow, Danny. It’s just until the second trimester.”
“Which would be?”
“The one after the first.” Jazz deadpanned.
Danny snorted and rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before a smile came to his face.
“I’m gonna be an uncle.” He said with what Jazz deemed as the proper reverence for such a statement.
“Yes, you are.” Jazz agreed, opening up her arms like she used to when they were both so much younger. And as he did them, he now came to her with unmistakable love for his sister plain to see. Tucking him close to her, head under her chin, Jazz spoke again, “And you’re gonna be a great one.”
After a few minutes Danny pulled back from the hug with a relaxed slump to his shoulders, like a weight had been lifted from them.
“So you weren’t sick, you were sick.” The emphasis on the last word made Jazz roll her eyes.
“Morning sickness, yes.”
“At night?”
Jazz laughed, “Afternoon too.”
“That sucks.”
The two stared at the other, warmth in their auras for their sibling, Danny breaking the silence with, “Janus.”
“What?”
“Danny Janus Nightingale, if you’re looking for baby names.”
“Danny!”
“See! It’s a great name! Just rolls off the tongue!”
“I am not naming my kid Danny.” Jazz firmly declares.
“But-”
“Or Dante, or Danielle, or any variations of Danny.” She adds, cutting off her brother’s words.
He huffs, but seems more amused than anything else.
“There’s enough Dannies in the world already.”
For a moment they both think about their siblings- both cloned and alternate reality born- and shudder. Oh yeah, three people were more than enough for the world.
(Considering Dan was technically possessing an empty clone body of the original Danny and was off on another mission from Clockwork to indulge his hatred of the Flash Family’s timeline antics.)
(The weirdest part of that whole thing was that Dan and Danny could pass as identical twins until Dan went ghost- he still retained his brickhouse vampire visage.)
(Ellie had left Gotham to restart her adventuring, promising to be back soon enough.)
(Ellie, the Wrath, was an unholy combination of Vlad and Danny.)
(Jazz had been livid when they finally told her that particular tidbit, including how Vlad had gotten enough of his DNA.)
(Could she travel back in time to kick his ass again?)
(She had the distinct impression that Clockwork wouldn’t mind doing her that favor, as long as the vampiric halfa ended in his eternal casket all the same.)
“I’m happy for you Jazz.” Danny said, breaking Jasmine out of her thoughts.
“Thanks Danny.” She replied, “You know you’re gonna have to fight the other batboys for the title of favorite uncle, right?”
The halfa cackles in manic glee. “I’m gonna enjoy every second.”
They continued about their day, though with Danny increasingly obvious with his hovering.
“I’m not gonna suddenly keel over.” Jazz told him with a bored tone as she organized her and Jason’s bookshelf.
“Sorry…just…its really weird hearing a second heartbeat.” Danny admitted with a sheepish expression before he perked up, “Gotta tell Ellie and Dan!”
“Wait, Danny!” Jazz called, trying to catch his attention as he zipped towards his room, where his Phantom Phone was stashed away. There was no way she could catch him before he started dialing his other siblings, but Jazz managed to reach the doorway as Dante, then Ellie, picked up the three-way call.
“Danny!” Jazz tried again.
“Ellie, Dan, good news!”
“Shit!” Jazz lunged for the phone, barely missing it as Danny dodged out of her reach.
“Was that Jazz?” Ellie questioned, concern leaking through the phone thanks to the Ecto.
“What’d you do now, pipsqueak?”“Don’t!” Jazz yelled.
Danny paused, giving her a confused look as she finally caught his arm in a death grip. “What’s wrong?”
“Jason and I agreed to wait until its…safer to tell people.” Jazz enunciated the word clearly, trying to convey the severity of her statement.
“Are you alright, Jazz? Do you need us?” Dan asked, brusque voice inflecting with a concern matching Ellie’s own.
(Thankfully none of the halfas had the ablilty to make portals.)(They’d have been here within the second.)
“I’m fine.” Jazz reasured. “Danny learned something and he didn’t know that I was keeping it secret for a little while longer.” she clarified.
“You’re not dying, right?”
“Template said it was good news, Alt, how would that be good news?”
“At least we know where she’d be going.”
“As soon as I can, I’ll let Danny tell you.” Jazz offered before a verbal arguement could ensue.
“Promise?”
“I promise Ellie.”
“You be safe.”
“I will, Dan. Love you both.”
“Love ya!”
“Love you too.”
WIth that Danny hung up, still quiet and having not bothered to say his own goodbyes. The excitement had been visibly drained out of him.
“Sorry, Jazz.”
She sighed, “It’s alright, I know you’re excited to be an uncle.”
“Yeah…” the halfa trailed off, “I’m gonna go out early.” He transformed and vanished through his bedroom wall without waiting for her to reply.
“Lovely.” Jazz said outloud to nobody. Now she’d worry about whatever made Danny upset.
Regardless, her and Jason had made the decision as a couple, with the exception of Alfred and now Danny, for the majority to know after Jazz officially entered the second trimester. The next ultrasound, with the pictures in hand, would be a good marker for when they could. Jason would probably want to screw with his adoptive father by making him the last to know, which Jasmine could understand considering the Bat’s obsessive need to know every tiny detail. It would be glorious for him to be left out of the loop.
Was it a bit mean to delay telling a “loving” father that they’re soon to be a grandparent? Perhaps.
Then again, Bruce Wayne had spectacularly failed her soulmate in life and in death- she had been the one to avenge him. She had given peace to the angry sprits. It should have never been on Jason’s shoulders, much less Jasmine’s responsibility, to rid the world of the demented clown.
(Guess what place has the death sentence?)(Ethiopia!)
Batman didn’t have to personally end the Joker. All Bruce Wayne had to do was use his ability of ‘rich white man’ to have Bozo tried and sentenced in a place where he couldn’t use a plea of insanity.
Alas, the Bat was always going to write off the Bruce persona.
Even Jasmine, the Regent of the Infinite Realms, understood the necessity of using every card in the deck to one’s advantage. That’s how she got the regency.
Jazz didn’t hate Batman. She couldn’t, if only because he was a mere shadow of what could’ve been a good man- a concept turned reality of a hero.
However, Jazz can hate Bruce Wayne. She didn’t, not to the level she hated her parents and the GIW, because she didn’t wish him dead (yet), but she held his many faults against him.
For Jason’s sake too.
Whatever Jason wished for the man, Jazz would stand at his side. For as long as he would have her.
Jazz, with a wry smile, puts a hand to the small bump hidden under her clothes.
For as long as he’ll have us.
A/N: Happy New Years!
Shoutout to everyone over on A03 who guessed that Danny was hearing the heartbeat. He's kinda like superman where he keeps track of heartbeats, because of enhanced hearing.
Is this angsty enough for the 'Angst arc'? I can't wait to reveal what this arc was really supposed to be called, but didn't because spoilers.
(small reminder that A03 uploads less frequently than tumblr, but with combined chapters for longer length and the Social Media AU.)
Thanks for reading!
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"I'm not ashamed to own my pain, never as lost but I found my way, always knew I'd show my scars one day." -Black Sheep by Dorothy
Regent Masterlist A03 Mundane Macabre Part 22
Jason could keep a secret from his family, that was a given, but he would sooner let Titus use him as a chew toy before he kept something so wonderful from his grandfather.
It was as if Gotham herself felt his happiness, the shadows embraced him with warmth where there should have been fingers dragging down his spine. No, it seemed the Lady of the city he loved was happy for him too.
(He loved the Lady, for all she sacrificed to bring him back.)
(Without the pit clouding his mind, he could find it in himself to be grateful for his chance at life.)
He wanted to scream the news from the rooftops.
His love, his soulmate, is having their baby.
A blend of the two of them- Jason’s fortitude, Jazz’s strength of will. Her determination to protect those she loves, the lengths she would go to made him ache with his love for her.
That wasn’t to say that they were without fault, no they were flawed beings that would make mistakes in the future. But Jason knew in his bones that any kid of his would be offered the chance to make mistakes without a fatal outcome. To be a kid before having to grow up. A luxury so few got to have.
Jason decided to call Alfred, unwilling to leave Jazz for longer than he had to. She wasn’t ready to leave her haunt quite yet.
The private line rang once, twice, three times before the familiar accent answered.
“Wayne Manor.”
“Hey Alf.”
“Master Jason! It is good to hear your voice.”
“You too, Alf.” Jason paused for a second, giddiness bubbling up in his chest before he squashed it down, “I have some great news, but the bats can’t know just yet.”
“I will not share whatever it is you wish to tell me.”
Oh yes, his grandfather was the greatest man he would ever know.
(Suck it Bruce.)
Jason let the giddiness rise up, just a little, “I’m gonna be a dad.”
There was a gasp on the other end, “Oh Master Jason that’s wonderful news! Congratulations!”
“Thanks Alf. I wanted you to know before everyone else.”
“Thank you Master Jason, I’m honored.”
“I’ll let everyone else know soon, but it’s not safe right now. I’ll keep you updated, but I have to get back to Jazz. Love you, Alf.”
“Love you too, my boy. Whatever you need-“
“I have your number memorized. Bye Alf.”
“Goodbye, Master Jason.”
She hadn’t been able to hold down much food, morning sickness striking with a vengeance now that she’d been forced out of her cluelessness.
When Jason stepped outside for a minute to call his grandfather, Jazz had tried to choke down some yogurt to no avail, but it only made her retch into the sink. Jason tied her hair back and made her sit on the couch with her favorite blanket as he made her some soup, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he moved to the kitchen.
It was…domestic.
(She wouldn’t say that their lives together hadn’t been domestic, but it was in the way two vigilantes could orbit around one another.)
(They were two halves of a whole.)
(Both vengeance and protection.)
Their child would be born of the most liminal being in existence, the Regent bearing the Crown, but would its fragile heart be able to bear the burden of liminality?
It would break hers if she lost the life she now carried.
Perhaps she was meant to be pregnant now, to defy the odds she’d been given, if only to bridge the gap between her existence as Danny’s protector and as her own person. A person who would be a mother to a child born to a couple who had blood dripping off their hands- maternal grandparents murdered to protect their uncle Danny. Paternal grandfather a Kevlar-clad vigilante who was born into tragedy.
(Perhaps, she and Bruce had something in common.)
(Other than Jason, of course.)
Jason had the sin of the Pit weigh on his soul, held down down down by rocks in his gut to the bottom of the harbor. A bright soul meant for more than what he had been given. In another life, Jason might’ve been a different man. Not better or worse- different in all aspects, all his rough edges that she loved.
(If she can love his broken parts, why couldn’t he love hers too?)
(He did.)
No amount of redemption could ever wash away the blood. It was a fact they would have to contend with for the rest of their lives.
(In another life, Jason Todd would never meet Batman in that alley.)
(He would never die at the hands of the clown.)
(He would find his faith in the Catholic Church.)
(Father Jason.)
(He would never meet Jasmine Nightingale.)
(Not better or worse.)
(Just different.)
“…about seven, eight weeks along.”
If Jazz did the mental math, she would come to the conclusion that her child had been conceived on the same day the Anti-Ecto Acts had been demolished.
However, this wouldn’t come until far later in the day as both Jazz and Jason watched, enraptured, by the strange black and white image on the monitor.
Their child.
The undeniable mix of two souls, two vigilantes, two death-claimed- was visible right there.
If Jason hadn’t been squeezing her hand in an iron grip, Jazz would’ve convinced herself she had fallen prey to a Dijon. Her buried dream of a family, of children, rested underneath her heart safe and sound.
“Alright mom and dad, got some pictures printing out. We’ll see you back here in a month for another checkup, alright?” The nurse gently prodded the couple, a knowing smile on her face as she walked them back to the waiting room.
A month. Four weeks. Jazz would be eleven or twelve months along.
This was really happening.
With how toned Jazz’s frame was, given her rigorous training and vigilante schedules, any differences to her body was rather noticeable.
She had to be in shape for the armor to fit properly, because it was crucial for her vital organs to be protected.
With her pregnancy about to surpass the second month a small slightly curved bump had been her reward. Just above her waistline and obvious to a trainee eye, Jazz had taken to wearing her least restrictive clothing around the apartment. When in the presence of others (bar Jason), her layers were doubled using the approaching winter season as a reasonable excuse.
As for Jason, he had been supportive of Jazz’s choice to wait until the second trimester to reveal the pregnancy to their loved ones.
(Jazz had heard Jason on the phone with his pseudo-grandfather.)
(She had no qualms with him telling the patriarch he respected so much.)
It had taken Danny walking into the living room a few days after her appointment for him to know.
His head cocked to the side as he came to a standstill, a confused look on his face as he appeared to be listening intensely to whatever had caught his attention so suddenly.
“Danny?” Jazz sleepily called, book open on her chest where she’d fallen asleep reading it. She stretched out her limbs from where she’d been laying across the couch, taking a moment to rub at her sleep-encrusted eyes before focusing on her little brother.
The teenager in question offered no sign of having heard his sister, his gaze stuck to the far wall as his head remained cocked to one side.
“What’s wrong?” Jazz asked, moving to stand, but Danny stopped her with a fervent ‘shh’ motion.
Shrugging, Jazz leaned back into the couch and sighed. Late night patrols were not the best idea with a passenger leeching energy. Should she still be patrols by? Probably not, but she wasn’t going out unarmed or un-armored- short of driving a tank, Jazz was as protected as she could be and the Ridge needed to see her out and about alongside Phantom before they got any funny ideas.
Danny’s neck made a sickening sound as his head snapped towards her direction.
“What the fuck is that.”
[A/N: Happy Holidays! This ended up a lot longer than I intended so I cut it off right with Danny there. Its not quite angst, but the undercurrent is there, but way subtle.
(If you haven't picked up on the "mix of the two" hints...)
Anyways, the next part will be a while, considering I'm working on a new one-shot I promised for 700 followers and I rewrote the ending of Regent again. If I don't post for Christmas, consider this your present. Stay safe out there and keep warm!]
Thanks for reading!
"Without the darkness there'd be no light in me. My angels and my demons, they don't know their place- ready or not they're gonna come out and play." -Half God Half Devil by In This Moment
Regent Masterlist A03 Part 24
The whole of Gotham had been holding its breath as All Hallow’s Eve arrived without much fanfare, the chilly October air causing ice to form in its wake. The Ridge was cloaked in a fine drapery of pumpkin lights and lit candles defying the wind’s attempt to blow them out, pale green flames casting out the darkness of Gotham’s inherent shadows. Many residents, bolstered by the claim of their own vigilantes, had taken to wearing various shades of green in support of the Phantom and Regent- there was the perpetual gothness of Gotham natives present still, but the swath of color in the one particular neighborhood gave a sense of protection to the wearers.
(Those who had found the tiny stitched flaming ‘P’ sigil of the Phantom said nothing.)
Halloween had been deemed too dangerous to celebrate, but the Ridge had unanimously chosen to celebrate Samhain, the time when the veil between life and death was at its thinnest. A time for them to offer thanks to their ghostly protector, to celebrate another year of survival.
(Truthfully, the Ridge had quite a few things to celebrate.)
(Lowest crime rate, construction of new homes, better wages, better living in general.)
Though they had no evidence, the Ridge believed the betterment of their neighborhood, once the drug-addled cousin of Crime Alley held together by spit and glue, was the product of belief in their deservement of survival. A reward.
While the Regent was just as responsible for the Ridge and it’s betterments, many understood the necessity of secrecy in their gratitude. The Regent, a stalwart Protector and fierce fighter, was still human- enhanced with what was clearly Bat-level armor and meta powers, but still mortal.
(The question was still asked, what is the vigilante regent of?)
(A question they would soon, unknowingly, have an answer for.)
Hidden from the public and littered around the Ridge were altars dedicated to Phantom, asking for protection for the infamous day of the year- the same one they all greeted with disdain and fear. Though, for the first time in recent memory that fear was met with quiet strength.
The Ridge was made of a people who loved fiercely and defended their own with ornery pride. They had a ghost and a vigilante to call their own, who needed more than that?
The end of the world started with a convenience store robbery at three in the morning.
The quiet street corner burst alive with gunshots and alarms, breaking the quiet lull that had settled for the night.
As it was, the Regent ducked into the store with a blazing aura of fury, armor gleaming with its silver and green tones in the flickering fluorescent lights. She hadn’t yet to draw her sword as bullets bounced off her armor in a cascade of pinging metal. She moved forward with each breath, each ping off her armor, a menacing growl to her voice as she got in real close to the ski-masked troublemaker,
“You woke me up.”
She’d been peacefully dozing off on a fire escape, tired from chasing down a street racer that had decided to try and drive down a sidewalk full of drunken patrons.
(Jazz was pleased to report that she was indeed able to run just as fast as that souped up racer.)
(Liminality had its perks.)
Glass shattered at her back, a quiet ping as an echo rang inside her helmet. Vertigo. Nausea.
“What the-”
Regent shoved the robber away from her, effectively cutting off whatever he’d been about to say, just in time as another ping filled the air.
A bullet clattered on the linoleum.
A bullet.
Someone was shooting at her.
“Ah crap.”
Knowing she’d falter due to vertigo, the Regent ran directly down the middle of the empty street as bullets just barely missed her.
What had begun with precise shots, aimed clearly for her helmeted head, now had become an area of attack, aiming for her general location- the smell of kerosene warned her that her attacker had clearly planned this thoroughly.
Jazz had never feared fire. Why would she? It wasn’t as if her skin could be burnt, it would require ecto-fueled flame and without the Fentons or the GIW who would know the formula for Fenton Fuel?
Kerosene had a particular scent marker, but it grew weaker as explosions colored the sky- orange and blood red filled her vision as she threw herself through obstacles lit with flame.
Screams rang in her ears- screams of a people she needed to help, but what help could the Regent be with someone clearly intent on taking her life trying to destroy everything in her wake.
She had run from the convenience store to draw the gun fire away from innocent people. She continued to run now that she could bring them into Batman’s territory- once out of Crime Alley, Regent would have a straight shot for Gotham Ports. She could jump into the harbor and portal back into the Ridge to get behind her attacker, leaving a trail for the Bats to follow.
The Regent approached the ‘official’ marker for the border of the Ridge and Crime Alley, a large X that Danny had repainted in Ecto-Paint to make it glow in the dark for a laugh.
Ecto-paint that was flammable.
Cursing, Regent skid to a stop from her dead sprint, tripping and rolling forward right past the marker- its luminescent paint wasn’t as bright as it should be.
The scent of kerosene came seconds before the first flash of a flame.
A ecto-green flame.
Jazz screamed as her left leg was caught in the first burst of fire, the otherworldly armor she relied so heavily on covered only so much- the knee high greaves were resistant to fire, but not Ecto-fire.
Army crawling away, whimpering as her chest plate dug into her sensitive breasts and burning greave scraping against pavement, another bullet barely missing her head again as Regent took cover behind a parked car.
Back against the cool metal, Jazz was quick to unlatch her greave and examine the burnt one for damage. The metal, iridescent in the green lit flames she cowered from, had been partially melted to her boots and protective underlayer, but largely retained its integrity. The back plate of the greaves, designed so she couldn’t be crippled by the ankle and shin, took the brunt of the burning. She’d have a first degree burn to take care of soon enough, but for the moment Jazz replaced her greave, forcing the brunt metal to snap back into place around her shin with some effort.
As she moved to connect to Danny’s comm, the Phantom Phone now connected to her under-armor for ease of access, something skidded across the pavement towards her. The vigilante only had a moment of clarity, enough for the thought of ‘oh shit’, before a sickly green haze shrouded her vision.
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“With these words at hand, the future is a foreign land.” -The Future Is A Foreign Land by Ghost
Regent Masterlist Part 21 AO3 Mundane Macabre (main)
After a hiccuping half-assed explanation for her tears, despite both women trying to tell her that she didn’t need to give one, Jazz locked herself in her bedroom. Both women had tried for the past hour to talk to her with no success, Jazz ignored them in favor of sobbing into her pillow and wishing her soulmate was there to hold her.
She got her wish sometime later when the bed dipped behind her, Jason’s solid arms embracing her tightly, his large frame curled protectively around her smaller one.
“I’m here.” He murmured into her hair. The faint projection worry-sadness-anger lingered in the air, Jason’s proto-core searching for the warmth of hers.
Ancients, Jazz loved him.
All the more tragic that she couldn’t give him a child of their shared blood, a legacy of all they are. Sure, it was likely that they would still adopt in the future, but it wasn’t the same.
They laid there for what felt like hours, Jason’s body armor digging into her back despite how uncomfortable it probably was for him- he refused to untangle himself until she was ready.
The words came jumbling out, voice broken with the aftermath of sobbing into her pillow, “Steph asked if I’m pregnant.”
Jason tensed, she felt every muscle in his body do so, even through the armor.
He knew Jazz couldn’t have kids thanks to her ecto-contamination. Her liminality. She had laid it all out for him before they had any kind of sex, wanting nothing between them.
Sure, he was upset. Mostly for his darling, but a large part of him wanted a baby. Not just any baby, but one with Jazz.
Even so, he wouldn’t let such a thing get between them.
Jazz was his ride or die, his future wife, his soulmate.
They had a whole life ahead of them. If that included kids, great. If not, that’s good too.
Jazz was worth everything he could give.
So they talked about adoption.
It wasn’t anything concrete, not in any current timeframe, but it was definitely in the cards for them at some point.
(Jason was one-hundred percent certain that Jazz would be a fantastic mother.)
Still, his surrogate sister had unwittingly dredged up a trauma for Jazz, asking if she was pregnant, resulting in his darling sobbing as if her heart was fit to break.
(It probably was.)
He could do nothing but hold her close.
(There was some itch in his grey matter.)
(Trying to tell him something about all this.)
(But for the life of him, Jason could not figure out what.)
Eventually, Jazz seemed to drift off into a fitful sleep. Occasionally squirming in his arms like she was red out desperately, but whined when he did move away. For a few minutes Jason was able to peel himself away to strip out of his body armor and stash his gear away before he could try to sleep himself.
Although he tried, lying on his back with Jazz’s head on his chest, the once-revenant could not find any rest.
Perhaps it was the thoughts, no, the daydreams of a pregnant Jazz swimming in his mind’s eye. Or maybe it was the nagging itch in his skull about the whole situation.
Here’s the thing: Jason trusted his sisters far more than he trusted his brothers.
Cass was obvious in her intentions, her honesty was a blinding thing at first, but once you got to know her? She was amazing.
Stephanie was a Narrows girl through and through. The cousin of Crime Alley like the Ridge was its addict sibling, survival wasn’t a right so much as it was a privilege. A privilege so few got to experience. There was a good heart under all that purple Kevlar and good humor , one that understood the struggles of Gotham’s forgotten ones. He’d witnessed her resolve, her sheer grit, in the face of overwhelming odds against her and come out with bloody knuckles and a crooked grin.
For Steph to question if Jazz was pregnant was far outta left field. Had Jazz shown symptoms of an illness that could be mistaken as early pregnancy signs?
Jason’s mind came to a screeching halt when he recalled Jazz’s recent vertigo issues.
Recent issues.
It couldn’t be morning sickness. It happened at night, not in the morning. He would’ve heard Jazz puking if it did happen past dawn.
(He tried to push away the little observations he’d picked up on.)
(The nagging doubt.)
(He needed to talk to Jazz.)
(But it could wait till later.)
They hadn’t used protection.
Of course they wouldn’t, why would they?
Jason was immune to diseases and infections thanks to his Lazurus spa day. Jazz had her infertility confirmed by an OBG/YN before they had met, ecto-contamination wrecking havoc on her very DNA, not to mention her reproductive organs.
They always came together after their respective patrols, the rush of relief to have each within arms reach enough to have them in bed.
Idiots, both of them.
Jazz slept fitfully, bad dreams chasing away any peace she could find unconsciously. Jason clearly hadn’t fared any better, if his tired eyes and paler complexion were any hint.
Sure, this problem could be cleared up easily- one pregnancy test from the convenience store and they could both know the truth. But that would make it real, wouldn’t it?
(It was real.)
Stephanie had graciously agreed to buy a pregnancy test for Jazz, though it was obvious to anyone who knew the blonde that she fully believed she was right.
Three minutes of hell.
(Jazz hated the color of her bathroom walls, the yellow stained white making her want to puke.)
(Jason’s hand holding hers as they waited together.)
She couldn’t help but wonder. Would a child between them be able to live? Would their health be affected by their combined liminality? Would the Crown reject the fetus? Would Jazz be a good mother?
(Her own had never raised her.)
Would Jazz be damming her child?
The thoughts came unraveled with the shrill alarm that signified the wait time was over.
“Did you want me to look?” Jason asked, voice low and calm, even though Jazz could feel his mild shaking. Her poor love was nervous, afraid yet wanted to comfort her as best he could.
But Jazz had to do this herself.
She crawled over to the bathtub, from where she’d been sitting with her back against the door and carefully picked up one of the three tests.
Positive.
Positive.
Positive.
(Oh shit.)
Was Jason upset?
Not really.
Oh sure, he was concerned about Jazz and wanted nothing more than to kill what made her so sad, but he knew she wasn’t to blame for their current situation.
(A baby.)
(His baby.)
(Their baby.)
He’d seen the OBGYN records, Jazz had made it very clear that she had gone through the tests to determine her fertility long before they’d met. It had been a secret dream for his girl to have a family one day and she’d been devastated when she recounted the results.
Her womb was unable to hold a pregnancy. Sick, the doctor had put it simply when referring to her eggs.
(The liminality wrecked havoc on a growing girl.)
(Consequences of her own conception.)
To be able to conceive was a miracle.
Was Jason upset?
No.
In fact, he was excited. Him, the Red Hood, the Dead Robin, the Once-Revenant, was gonna be a dad. He was gonna have a child, a perfect mix of Jason and Jazz- the soulmates bound together forever in Liminality.
Whatever happened, Jason would love his kid.
(He would never treat them like Willis did.)
(Would never let them believe they’re not loved.)
His family would be thrilled. The first grandchild of Bruce Wayne. The first niece or nephew. The first child of Jason Todd-Wayne.
It was selfish, perhaps, to want to keep this blessing between the two of them for a little longer. The worry threatened to override his excitement, but Jason stubbornly refused to let it do so. This was something good from the universe and he was going to fight for it.
