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Memory loss doesn't look like what I thought it would. I spent several years convinced I could have a dissociative disorder primarily because I "didn't experience memory loss". I wasn't waking up in a strange place unaware of how I got there. I wasn't having people I'd never met come up to me and call me by a different name. I wasn't finding things I'd bought unintentionally or projects I'd done with no recollection of doing them. But I was, not remembering why I was upset in the middle of crying. Finding journal entries I didn't write. Suddenly not liking music I saved on a playlist named 'my favorite songs ever'. Randomly wanting to make drastic changes to my appearance and then forgetting why I wanted to look like that. Not knowing what day of the week it was, or how many days it had been since I did something (was that this morning or 3 days ago). Having friends tell me I was acting differently when I thought that was how I always acted.
Request: memory loss of Peter, blurred flashbacks, memories of Tony and Spiderman, visiting Bruce Banner.
Summary: When the unknown influence of Jean Gray starts to bring memories back to you, who better to consult than your dad’s best science partner, who Peter also happens to be visiting…
Warnings: mentions of death, implied Jean Gray influence, implied possession.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
Word Count: 2.6k AO3 Link Other Spidey Fic
A part of you felt missing. For so long you’d assumed it was due to the passing of your dad, but recently there was something more beneath it, something that was clawing its way to the surface.
You had questions. Ones that didn’t have simple answers. Ones that would circle through your mind in an endless loop until you’d spend every waking moment trying to figure them out in typical Stark fashion.
You’d spend sleepless nights thinking and then sketching and then engineering to find solutions to the things that should never be solved - life and death.
Your dad may have invented time travel, but he was smart enough to prevent it being replicated.
He knew humanity too well.
He knew you too well.
That didn’t stop you dwelling on what could’ve been.
Once you’d accepted that the past stayed past and the dead stayed dead, you began preparing for new threats, studying the gauntlet prototypes and trying to reconnect what once was of the avengers.
Trying to continue his legacy.
It wasn’t a simple task.
The ones who were alive weren’t all eager to interact with you. They looked at you distantly like they were staring through a ghost.
Others weren’t around anymore. Off-world or…
You didn’t like to think about it.
Your childhood was filled with faces you’d never see again. Heroic figures who failed to save your father and were wrecked with guilt at the mere thought of you.
You were 16 when he died. Old enough to want to fight, but too weak to do so. You’d tried but they promised you they’d look after him for you.
Promises didn’t mean much anymore.
Promises were made by desperate people looking only to appease. Not out of certainty and not something to trust.
You were still weak now - emotionally, at least.
The nightmares tore through the little sleep you got. They’d become worse recently. It felt as though there was a presence trying to invade your mind, scraping through memories and orbiting around one hero.
Spider-Man.
You’d wake up in a cold sweat after seeing his red suit dissipating in the arms of your father with a distorted cry. Or your vision would double with blurred figures of him standing on the Statue of Liberty as the sky swirled with impossible colours.
After each occurrence, you’d note down the details you could remember, trying to decipher the pained images.
Then you noticed a pattern - he never wore a mask in your nightmares, which was strange because you’d never seen him without one.
You’d spent time with him in the compound years ago, but he’d never removed the mask.
It stopped making sense after a while.
If he didn’t take off the mask, why could you remember dinner with Spider-Man? Laughing around the table with the Avengers when he’d come to visit.
It would’ve been unfathomable to have spent so much time together without once catching a glimpse.
And your dad trusted him. He was one of the few non-avengers allowed in the compound.
Everything you knew about him was fragmented, but you had this overwhelming feeling he was important.
The more you fixated on it, the more your dreams began to be consumed by him, until it moved into your waking hours.
That was when you knew something had to be done.
After weeks of trying to fight through the headaches and insomnia to figure out what was going on, you decided you couldn’t do it alone.
You figured that the best person to go to for any unusual changes or mental problems was definitely Dr Banner. He was one of the few Avengers that stayed local the last few years and had experience with all sorts of problems.
It wasn’t the first time you’d bothered him and it wouldn’t be the last. (and he’d never admit it, but he didn’t mind it all too much.)
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
As you stepped into the classroom, you noticed a few eyes on you, but nothing as bad as what Tony used to get. Pepper and Happy had kept you as shielded as possible for a Stark to be in the outside world: no interviews, few news headlines, and no dramatic speeches like Tony always did.
When Dr Banner spotted you in his class he distinctly paused. Once he’d accepted it, he offered a polite wave of acknowledgment before beginning.
He spotted Cindy Moon with her hand up once again. “Is this a question about physics or another one about the Avengers?”
He could tell by the look on her face it wasn’t about physics. “Alright, let it rip Cindy.”
“If Thanos was so worried about overpopulation, why didn’t he use the magic glove to make more food?”
You winced at the question having not expected this topic in the lecture.
It took every bit of restraint for you to not snap back. To not declare that Thanos was a maniac whose ideas had so little thought and concern-
Dr Banner cut off your mental spiral and diverted the focus to something less sensitive. Not so eager on the talk of Thanos with you in the room.
“Want to answer that for me, Russ?”
…
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
Once the class was over, you made your way swiftly over to Dr Banner, eager to ask your questions.
“So what are you doing here, kid?” He knew it was you approaching before he even looked up from his notes. “It’s not like we visit each other often and I know you’re not one of my students.”
“Maybe I’m just here for the physics lecture.”
Bruce let out a chuckle. “As if you need any lectures. You know what you’re doing.”
“I thought I wasn’t meant to grow complacent in my knowledge.” You retorted, throwing back words a younger you had heard.
It earned a smile.
One that saw you for the parts of Tony you carried.
“Besides I don’t know everything.” You spoke a little quieter.
“My question isn’t about physics. It’s a bit more… abstract. I would’ve gone to Strange about it, but you know how he can be.”
This caught his attention, eyebrows raising inquisitively before they settled in an uncertain frown.
“Go on.”
“I’ve been getting these nightmares, but they’re not the usual kind. They’re all centring around a figure. The more I try to focus on its face the worse it gets and it’s started happening in the day too… sort of like a splitting headache, but more like my mind is being ripped apart.”
Bruce listened carefully to your explanation, trying to figure out if it was anything he’d seen before. After all, he’d been around for plenty of Tony’s panic attacks where he was convinced he was dying. The two of you were equally dramatic.
“Have you experienced anything traumatic recently?” He asked, before correcting himself. “Anything new.”
You shook your head.
“Do you remember the first time it happened?”
“Um…” You tried to recall. “It started two weeks ago. But nothing important had happened that day, I only went to see Yelena in a coffee shop, then went home. Nothing unusual.”
Bruce hummed in thought, moving to find some paper to take a note down of your situation. As he did so he spotted a boy still hanging around from his lecture, eyes focused solely on you.
With the reasonable concern of any teacher, he had to check this guy wasn’t an absolute creep stalking the child of Tony Stark (it was unfortunately possible).
“Hey, are you waiting to have a chat?” Dr Banner asked politely, trying to gage the boy’s motive.
“Uh yeah- I just didn’t want to interrupt you two-”
You turned to look at him before being hit with the worst ache yet. You held your head, sound shrieking in your ears in a splitting cry, your eyes closed, face scrunching together.
Images flooded in, but this time they weren’t riddled with pain, but something much brighter and just as suffocating. There was laughter and legos and sunsets from rooftops, hands intertwined with the red material, tracing the texture of the web-like seams. You heard him speak, *promising* he’d find you and that everything would be okay.
Then you were back, with Bruce’s hand on your shoulder, gently stabilising you. “Hey hey, sit down.” He analysed your symptoms closely. “Did it happen again?”
You nodded as best you could. You were unable to see the concern adorning the face of the boy who stood braced to help, still halfway across the room.
“I’ll call Pepper to send a driver to take you home.” Bruce suggested.
“No- Going home won’t fix this. I need a solution!” You protested, which didn’t shock Bruce. Always too eager to have answers immediately and unwilling to rest until you get some.
“You need to rest. I’ll gather some research and keep in contact, okay?” He never had before, but there wasn’t much you could do to argue as it still felt like a hammer was descending on your skull.
As Banner was occupied calling your mom, the boy cautiously approached.
“Um- hi. Are you okay?” His eyebrows furrowed together in concern.
“Mhm just a headache- It’s easing up.” You assured politely, still rubbing at your temples in the aftermath.
You expected a reply, but after the prolonged silence you looked up at the boy only to find his eyes already on you.
If it were anyone else you’d have been startled, but for some reason you could only find yourself staring intently too.
He looked familiar.
He sounded familiar, although he hadn’t spoken much.
“Do I know you?” It felt like an odd question to ask. One that you should’ve known the answer to.
“No uh- I don’t think so.” He shook his head lightly with an expression you couldn’t pinpoint.
It had more emotion than it should have for a stranger.
You felt like you were going crazy.
Like the blurred face from your dreams had jumped alive and was assuming the identity of those around you. It was like he was speaking with the voice that haunted your every moment.
Maybe it was evolving from a dream to a hallucination?
*Something’s wrong.*
“What is it?” He asked.
“Huh?”
“You said something’s wrong.”
“Oh.” You’d spoken aloud. “Nothing’s wrong.”
He looked at you incredulously. “I can tell when you’re lying.”
He said it like he knew you.
“How?” You looked at him suspiciously.
“Because you’re a terrible liar.” He laughed. He didn’t need to know you to see that, but he did.
“I’m injured here and you’re criticising me. It’s unfair.” The reply felt so natural.
“Mh sounds dramatic for ‘just a headache’.” He quipped before softening up again. “So which is it?”
“Fine.” You breathed. “I don’t feel great, but what’s it to you?”
“Oh- nothing, I’m just a… concerned classmate.” He murmured.
Yep. Classmate. You definitely go here. So does Peter. Neither of you are lying to each other or undercover in the exact same place. You’re both students at whatever collage this is…
“That makes complete sense.” No more questions; it wouldn’t be good for either of you.
“So, are you gonna tell me your name, concerned classmate?”
He hesitated. Long enough for you to question if he’d forgotten his own name.
“Ned. Ned Leeds.”
Hm.
“You don’t look like a Ned.”
He shrugged bashfully. “Well I didn’t choose the name.”
You offered him a polite smile and introduced yourself in return. He nodded and you wondered if he’d heard of you.
“So… Ned, you’re wanting to speak to Dr Banner?” You interrogated.
“Yeah- I have some questions.” He seemed nervous for some reason. “About physics.”
“Oh well he’s the best physics teacher and scientist I know, so I’m sure he can help you with whatever it is.” You smiled.
“I hope so.”
Bruce returned to let you know the car was almost here. You thanked him and said goodbye to ‘Ned’, looking back one final time before you left.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
You couldn’t stop thinking of him after that, replaying through the interaction as if answers could be found in it.
That voice.
Why did it turn into his voice?
Was that his voice?
Was Spiderman some random guy in Dr Banner’s class?
It wasn’t making sense.
You decided that you needed to test your hypothesis as any good scientist would do. To do that, you’d need to meet spiderman and unveil his identity - not publicly of course - for your own sake.
Everyone knew the best way to find spiderman, was to be in (or become) *danger*.
And since you’d lost his number and nobody you knew seemed to have it, you needed to take quick action into your own hands.
Going against everything your mother had ever taught you, you planned your victimisation.
It’d be simple in New York. You could basically stand in the street and wait for the crime to come to you!
If you’d been of a more sane mind at the time, you’d have realised how terrible of an idea this was. However, after weeks of sleep deprivation and super-powered headaches, you didn’t know much better.
You chose the wrong day to put yourself in danger, but how were you to know that a traumatised mind-controlling mutant with powers of possession would be walking around!
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
“You idiot! What were you thinking?” You heard the voice echo out as you faded back into consciousness. Snapping back to reality far too fast to process it all.
“I knew it! I wasn’t going crazy. It’s you!” You half-yelled, voice still recovering from what seemed like screaming?
“Is that what all this is about? Figuring out who I am?” He seemed mad. Not just that - exasperated and a bit bloodied even visible over the suit.
You then realised you weren’t where you thought you were. It was windy up here. Once you took a look around, you realised all the buildings didn’t seem so tall because you were on a rooftop. With a very unhappy spiderman. But a real one. Not a dream one.
“You almost died!”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Was all you could manage, trying not to worry too much about whatever just happened that you couldn’t remember.
“No you don’t get to act so unconcerned about this! You always do this!” He seemed so frustrated, the eye plates shuttering and widening in emotion.
“What?”
You frowned.
He paused. Taking a step back as if he’d just realised what he said.
“I don’t remember ever doing anything like this before. We only saw each other at the compound, right?”
“I just meant- you were always trying to run towards the danger.” He tried to save it with an explanation. Not willing to tell you that a stunt like this was exactly what got his identity revealed to you the first time.
He should’ve known when he saw you at Banners.
“No there’s something else. There’s something you’re not telling me. It’s been plaguing me. And I need answers.” You stepped towards him, footing a little shakey from whatever incident had occurred.
“C’mon. Just tell me. We were friends right, once?” You hated that you had to ask.
He breathed. “Yeah… We were friends.”
You reached for the curve of his neck, finding the edge of the mask, slowly enough that he could move away at any moment. Enough that it was still in his control if he needed it to be. The movement felt too familiar.
“Why does it feel like I’ve done this before?”
He went to speak, but you didn’t trust it, halting your movements ever so slightly.
“I want the real answer, Spidey. Don’t bullshit me.”
He sighed, feeling the mask be lifted off his neck.
“You have done this before. We have.” He spoke with little power, quiet and a bit hesitant.
“…So why can’t I remember it?”
AUTHORS NOTES:
Lmk if anyone wants a part 2 cause I have plans… I’m also taking more requests.
seeing people my age talk about how scared they are of memory loss, which they only associate with old age, is so surreal to see as a 24 year old who has actively experienced memory loss for a long time now
there are causes for memory loss besides dementia and alzheimer’s, i hope y’all know that. dissociative disorders, trauma, brain injuries, thyroid problems, even just stress and lack of sleep can fuck up your ability to store, process, and access memory. and that’s just a few of the many causes i can think of off the top of my head right now.
please stop treating disabled people like some scary “other” that you might become only in the distant, decades-away future. we are your age, too. you may become one of us sooner than you know. stop acting like memory loss marks the end of a life, when so many of us have so much living left to do!
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Six hundred years ago, before he was Ra's al Ghul, before the League of Assassins, before the Lazarus Pits and the title of Demon’s Head, there had been only a man.
Ra's.
He had been young once.
He had been a husband once.
And, most importantly, he had been a father.
His son was named Danyal.
His firstborn.
His only child.
Danyal had been born during a brief period of peace in Ra's life. He remembered a small boy with dark hair and bright, curious eyes who followed him everywhere.
Danyal had been clever. Stubborn. Mischievous.
He had also been the only person who could make Ra's laugh without trying.
Then Ra's lost his wife.
And shortly afterward, he lost Danyal.
Whatever happened to his son was buried beneath centuries of grief, violence, immortality, and ambition.
Eventually, Ra's forgot.
The world forgot.
Danyal al Ghul became nothing more than a ghost in history.
No one knew he had ever existed.
Not the League.
Not Talia.
Not Bruce Wayne.
Not even Ra's himself.
Until a spell changed everything.
The fight had been going badly.
Ra's had been in the middle of issuing an order when an unfamiliar sorcerer raised both hands.
A strange green light exploded across the room.
Ra's barely had time to react.
The spell struck him directly.
There was a flash.
Then darkness.
When Ra's opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that his head hurt.
The second was that there were people standing around him.
He slowly pushed himself upright.
"Where am I?"
No one answered.
Ra's frowned.
He looked around.
The room was familiar.
The weapons.
The architecture.
The League insignia.
Yet none of it made sense.
He looked down at his hands.
They were younger.
His body felt younger.
His memories were clearer.
He remembered his wife.
He remembered his home.
He remembered being forty.
And then he remembered something else.
His eyes widened.
"Where is my son?"
The room went silent.
Talia stepped forward.
"Father?"
Ra's looked at her.
He frowned.
"Who are you?"
Talia froze.
"...What?"
"I asked who you are."
"It's me."
Ra's stared at her.
She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place her.
"My name is Talia."
He shook his head.
"I don't know anyone named Talia."
Talia stared at him in disbelief.
"Father, I'm your daughter."
Ra's expression became confused.
"My daughter?"
"Yes."
"No."
Talia's face fell.
"You have a daughter," she insisted.
"I have a son."
"...What?"
"My son."
Ra's looked around impatiently.
"Where is Danyal?"
Talia stared at him.
"Who is Danyal?"
Ra's looked genuinely shocked.
"Danyal."
"Yes, I heard you. Who is he?"
"My son."
Talia slowly shook her head.
"Father, you don't have a son."
Ra's's expression hardened.
"Do not lie to me."
"I'm not lying!"
"You are telling me I have no son."
"Because you don't!"
Ra's stared at her.
Then he said something that made Talia's blood run cold.
"Then who are you?"
The League was thrown into chaos.
Ra's al Ghul had forgotten six hundred years of his life.
According to him, he was forty years old.
He had no memory of becoming immortal.
No memory of the Lazarus Pits.
No memory of founding the League.
No memory of Talia.
No memory of Bruce Wayne.
No memory of Damian.
He remembered only one child.
Danyal.
His son.
His firstborn.
His only child.
Talia had spent hours trying to convince him that she was his daughter.
It didn't work.
"How old are you?" Ra's finally asked.
"Thirty."
Ra's stared at her.
"That is impossible."
"Why?"
"Because my son is only a few years older than you."
Talia's eyes narrowed.
"When was he born?"
Ra's answered without hesitation.
"Six hundred years ago."
Silence.
Talia slowly sat down.
"Father..."
"I told you not to call me that."
She looked away.
For the first time in her life, Talia felt like she had lost her father.
Not because he was dead.
But because he was standing directly in front of her and didn't know who she was.
Bruce arrived shortly afterward.
Damian came with him.
Ra's looked up as they entered.
His eyes immediately narrowed.
"You."
Bruce stopped.
"Me."
"I know you."
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"You've known me for quite some time."
Ra's frowned.
"Why?"
Bruce sighed.
"Long story."
Ra's's gaze shifted to Damian.
The boy stood rigidly beside Bruce.
"And you?"
Damian frowned.
"Damian."
Ra's stared at him.
"You're Talia's son."
Damian's eyes narrowed.
"Yes."
Ra's looked at Bruce.
Then back at Damian.
"You are the boy who inherited the League."
Damian blinked.
"You remember me?"
"No."
Ra's paused.
"I don't remember you."
Damian's expression hardened.
"But you just said—"
"I remember what you told me."
Ra's turned away.
Then suddenly stopped.
"Danyal."
Bruce frowned.
"Who?"
"My son."
Damian looked at Bruce.
Bruce looked back.
Neither understood.
Ra's faced them.
"Everyone keeps asking me who Danyal is."
"Because we've never heard of him."
Ra's stared at Bruce.
"You've never heard of my son?"
"No."
Ra's's expression became increasingly troubled.
He closed his eyes.
"I remember him."
His voice softened.
"He was small."
Bruce said nothing.
"He used to follow me everywhere."
A faint smile crossed Ra's's face.
"He was always asking questions."
Ra's looked down.
"He hated thunderstorms."
Damian listened quietly.
"He would sneak into my room whenever there was a storm and pretend he wasn't frightened."
Ra's smiled sadly.
"He thought I didn't notice."
Bruce's expression softened.
"What happened to him?"
Ra's opened his eyes.
"I don't know."
That answer seemed to hurt him.
"I remember losing him."
He pressed a hand against his chest.
"I remember looking for him."
"Then?"
"Nothing."
Bruce looked thoughtful.
"You don't remember anything after that?"
"No."
"Not the League?"
"No."
"The Lazarus Pits?"
Ra's shook his head.
"Talia?"
"No."
"Me?"
"No."
Ra's looked at him.
"But I remember my son."
Bruce spent the next several hours searching.
Ancient League records.
Historical databases.
Old family documents.
Everything.
Nothing.
There was no Danyal al Ghul.
It was as if someone had deliberately erased him from history.
Then Bruce found something.
A fragment.
An ancient document written in a language almost no one alive could read.
A name.
Danyal.
Bruce stared at the screen.
There was no surname.
No birth date.
Just one line.
My son, Danyal.
Bruce's eyes widened.
"Damian."
Damian looked over.
"What?"
"I think he existed."
Thousands of kilometers away, Danny Fenton was having a completely normal afternoon.
Well.
Normal by Amity Park standards.
He had just finished fighting three ghosts, destroyed half a warehouse, and gotten yelled at by Tucker for forgetting to answer his phone.
He dropped onto his bed.
"Finally."
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Danny stared at it.
"Who is calling me?"
He answered.
"Hello?"
"Is this Daniel Fenton?"
Danny sat up.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Bruce Wayne."
Danny blinked.
"...Bruce Wayne?"
"Yes."
Danny looked at Tucker.
Tucker stared back.
Bruce Wayne was calling him.
This was either the best day of his life or the beginning of a very strange one.
"What do you want?"
There was a pause.
"I need to ask you something."
"Okay."
"Have you ever heard the name Danyal al Ghul?"
Danny froze.
The room suddenly felt cold.
He didn't know that name.
At least, he didn't think he did.
But something inside him reacted.
A memory.
A voice.
A man's voice.
Danyal.
Danny swallowed.
"...Why are you asking me that?"
Bruce was silent for a moment.
"Because we believe it may be your birth name."
Danny's heart stopped.
"What?"
"We found historical records connecting the name to Ra's al Ghul."
Danny stared at the wall.
"Ra's al Ghul?"
"Yes."
Danny laughed nervously.
"Okay. That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because Ra's al Ghul is—"
Danny stopped.
He didn't know what he was going to say.
Dead?
Impossible?
Not his father?
All of those things sounded wrong.
Bruce continued.
"Ra's al Ghul currently believes he is forty years old."
Danny's face went pale.
"What?"
"He has lost his memories of the last six centuries."
"And?"
"He remembers one thing."
Danny's heart began pounding.
Bruce's voice softened.
"He remembers his son."
Danny couldn't breathe.
"What's his name?"
Bruce didn't answer immediately.
"Danyal."
Danny closed his eyes.
Something inside him broke.
A memory surfaced.
A little boy running through a garden.
A man lifting him into his arms.
A warm voice whispering his name.
Danyal.
Danny's eyes filled with tears.
"Put him on the phone."
Ra's was sitting alone when Bruce entered.
"He is here."
Ra's immediately stood.
"My son?"
Bruce nodded.
Ra's looked at the phone.
His hands trembled slightly.
Bruce pressed the speaker button.
"Hello?"
There was silence.
Then a young voice.
"...Dad?"
Ra's froze.
The world seemed to stop.
That single word had not been spoken to him in six hundred years.
But he remembered it.
He remembered a little boy saying it.
He remembered tiny arms around his neck.
He remembered carrying his son through the garden.
He remembered promising him that he would always be there.
His eyes filled with tears.
"Danyal?"
On the other end of the phone, Danny began crying.
"Yeah."
Ra's slowly sat down.
"My son."
Danny laughed through his tears.
"You remember me?"
Ra's closed his eyes.
"I never forgot you."
It wasn't true.
Not entirely.
He had forgotten.
For centuries.
But somehow, beneath everything he had become, the memory of his son had survived.
"I looked for you," Ra's whispered.
"I know."
"I thought you were gone."
"I know."
Ra's pressed a hand over his heart.
"My little boy."
Danny laughed softly.
"I'm not little anymore."
Ra's smiled.
"No."
For the first time in six hundred years, Ra's al Ghul smiled like the man he had once been.
"You grew up."
Talia stood outside the room.
She had heard everything.
She had spent her entire life believing she was Ra's al Ghul's firstborn.
His only child.
His heir.
And now she had discovered that, six centuries before she was born, her father had loved someone else.
A son.
A firstborn.
A child she had never known existed.
Damian stood beside her.
"So," he said quietly.
Talia looked at him.
"What?"
"We have an uncle."
Talia stared through the doorway.
Inside, Ra's was still talking to Danny.
His voice was softer than she had ever heard it.
He was laughing.
Actually laughing.
Talia had never heard that laugh before.
She didn't know what hurt more.
The fact that her father had forgotten her—
or the fact that she was seeing, for the first time, the father he had been before she was born.
Damian looked at her.
"Are you going to meet him?"
Talia took a breath.
"Yes."
She stepped toward the door.
Then stopped.
For six hundred years, Danyal al Ghul had been a secret buried by time.
Now he was coming home.
And Ra's al Ghul was going to have to explain to his long-lost son exactly what happened to the world while he was gone.
Including one very confused daughter.
And one grandson who had just discovered he had an uncle.
The Demon’s Head had returned to the beginning of his life.
And this time, he wasn't going to lose his son again.
during the game after tuna-melt day, Ilya gets hurt on the ice badly! he's rushed to a hospital and while there's no permanent damage, he has some memory loss-- meaning he forgets Shane ran out on him the day before. Shane finds out when he goes to visit Ilya in the hospital because even though he doesn't know where they stand after he ran away, he still needs to see Ilya's okay before having to leave the city. when he learns about the memory loss, he decides to just... not tell Ilya what happened. he wants things to go back to normal with them.
this of course means that a month and a half later, when the metros are playing in boston again, he realizes Ilya planned that day despite making it seem like it was an 'in the moment' decision.
Ilya 'casually' suggests he can stay after sex, he makes them the same tuna melts he did the first time (only now Shane notices the ingredients are already prepared), he asks the same line of questions which Shane understands now is him asking about him seeing any girls ("I see you and rose Landry together a lot" "oh. yeah but she's just a friend" "so you and rose Landry are not...?" "no, no. it's just gossip").
he sees it for what it is. Ilya trying.
when they go to bed that night, because Shane stayed this time, Shane knows he's going to have to tell Ilya he knows this day was planned. that he knows because he lived it before and Ilya just can't remember...
