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Sometimes, if their souls are small enough to slip through the cracks but resilient enough to survive the journey, children can find their way to the Underworld. It’s like swimming, almost, if the fabric of reality was an ocean, and the water a kaleidoscope. They lean forwards, tilted up on their toes like preparing to take flight, and when they move their arms, they propel themselves into the Grey.
This is how Bruce finds his way to the Underworld. The months after his parents’ deaths are grey, grey, grey, like all the life had been sucked out of the world. He wanders a lonely manor, eating meals at the head of a silent table, crying himself to sleep. And one day, he tilts forwards and slips.
He is scared, at first. A silvery fog hangs low over the barren Earth and an endless path stretches forth. Bruce can feel it in the depths of his soul—his parents are at the end of the road. And so, he walks.
Eventually, Bruce spots a strange, gothic city, rising out of the fog. It is surrounded by a tall, thick wall that looms over the path. Beyond the wall, Bruce can see far too many buildings to count, topped with spires and towers, all the same shade of grey. This strange city, Bruce thinks, might be a good place to rest. There are steps leading up to the city gate. Slowly, Bruce places a foot on the steps and falls through. He spends days there, crying, watching travelers pass and disappear into the fog. Bruce tries to follow them, only to find himself back at the city gates.
Perhaps he must visit the city before travelling on. He tries, and he tries, and he tries, and eventually he can take one step before falling through the stairs. The next time, two steps. And so on, and so forth, until he can climb the entire staircase and enter the Grey City.
Bruce looks at the lonely souls of the Grey City, at the ruler who keeps them trapped within the walls, and decides that this cannot stand. There is a poison here, seeping from the Underworld into the roots of the trees, killing the city above. He longs to find his parents, to travel down the path and discover their final destination. But he thinks he has some work to do first.
Time moves strangely, below, but Bruce estimates it takes him fifteen years to defeat the King. By the time he finally frees its inhabitants to continue along the road if they so wish, he is far too entrenched to leave. And someone needs to guide the dying to the path. In this land, the King is called Death, and Death is what Bruce must become.
Soon, he promises his parents. Soon.
He takes trips to the land of the living, guiding those from the poisoned city above down to the Underworld. There is something wrong with the city above, the city that killed Bruce’s parents. He can feel the parasite lurking within Gotham, the darkness roiling in the streets. The darkness is fading, now that the denizens of the Grey City are allowed to move on, but it is not fading fast enough. There is no use fighting it directly. But indirectly…
Bruce does not kill; Death cannot take before its time. But he does his best to hold the darkness at bay. Bruce is the only defense this city has.
He becomes known as many things to the people of Gotham. Batman. The Dark Knight. The Caped Crusader. All of them imply a certain…humanity. And Bruce was human, once, but he doesn’t think he is, anymore. Still, it’s flattering that the people think there’s something left of worth in him.
He will fight a little longer, he decides, and then travel to the world beyond.
It’s on an excursion to the surface world that Bruce finds the boy, kneeling over his parents’ bodies, hands still wrapped for the trapeze. The boy looks up when Bruce takes ahold of John and Mary Grayson’s hands—or, the feeling of their hands, since hands are not something they have anymore. Piercing blue eyes meet Bruce’s own.
When Bruce returns to the Underworld, the boy follows.
“Leave,” Bruce tells him, pointing back at the path towards Life.
“No,” the boy says.
Bruce thinks he will ask to go with his parents, but he doesn’t. He watches them travel into the fog and then clings tightly to Bruce. “Leave,” Bruce says again.
“No,” the boy insists.
“Please,” Bruce says. “The living have no place here. Please just leave, Richard.”
The boy tilts his head like a little bird. “But you’re here,” the child says. He reaches out a hand, lightning-fast, to Bruce’s wrist. Bruce can feel his own pulse. It’s slow, here, but present. As long as Bruce does not pass beyond the city, his heart still beats. “You’re like me,” Richard says. “My parents are safe now, but something’s wrong with Gotham. Please, let me help.”
Slowly, Bruce nods. He does not expect the child to stay very long; the Grey City is no place for a child. He would know.
“Thank you,” the boy says, throwing his arms around Bruce’s torso. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Then he bounces backwards, smiling. “My name is Dick Grayson,” he says. “And I can tell we’ll be a great team.”
For a moment, Bruce is at a loss for how to introduce himself. He goes by many names these days: the King of the Underworld, Death, Batman…but it has been so long since he heard the name his parents gave him. This land has a way of making you forget, and Bruce realizes he had almost forgotten. “You can call me Bruce,” he says. The name feels strange on his tongue. Strange, but so very right.
His heart sinks in his chest at the knowledge that Dick will inevitably leave.
The years pass, and Dick does not leave. He accompanies Bruce to the surface, shaping the fog around him into a bright costume with his family’s circus colors. He cartwheels through crime scenes, stopping attackers with a few well-placed blows, doing his part to guide Gotham towards the light as Bruce guides the souls towards their destination. He calls himself Robin.
With Dick around, Bruce can feel the longing to find out just what that destination is fading away. Instead of the all-consuming desire it used to be, it’s just a quiet thought buzzing at the back of his mind.
The Grey City is brighter, too, with Dick. He seems to illuminate the world, and suddenly, Bruce can see the ghosts of colors everywhere—a piece of fabric that looks almost gold, a glint of green in a woman’s eye, a flash of red berries. Not everyone is ready to continue their journey, and for those who aren’t, waiting is a lot more pleasant now.
And then, Dick begins to make friends on the surface. Bruce is happy for him—of course he is. But in Dick’s absences, the Grey City begins to fade again. The smiles on the denizens faces fade too. What little Life remained in this place disappears into wisps, which disperse in the wind. The days blend together. Time lengthens once more. He wishes Dick would stay.
When he was little, Dick would sit and watch as Bruce wove the lives of plants and animals into a braid. He would pluck the golden thread of a songbird to hear it sing, gather up the plant lives like snippets of string. Now, Dick doesn’t sit at his side, and he disappears for days on the surface. Bruce tries to pull him back into the things he once loved, but Dick is always annoyed, storming off to go back to the surface.
Days become weeks.
And Dick is only getting older. Bruce is aware that his time with Dick is running out. Dick is still a child, but he won’t be for much longer. And only children can slip their way through the fabric of reality—
At least, only children among those from aboveground.
Bruce is a special case, the King of the Underworld. He was always meant for this place—it drew him in—and an excursion to the overcity doesn’t change that. Dick just followed Bruce home. When Dick becomes stuck, there’s no question of where it will be. And a King can travel between worlds, but a man who belongs above cannot.
Unless…a Prince…a Prince could do it too.
He tells Dick one morning, standing just outside the Grey City’s gates.
“You’re getting older,” Bruce says. “Adults can’t slip through the world’s cracks the way children can.”
Dick still tilts his head like a bird. He changes, but this never does. “You can.”
“I am part of this city, now,” Bruce says. “As its King, I can travel between worlds.” He places his hands on Dick’s shoulders. “And as its Prince, you will be able to as well.”
“I’m—I’m not a Prince,” Dick says. “I’m not from here.”
“I’m not from here either,” Bruce tells him. “But you know that. I have power here. If you join me, you can travel between worlds too.” He smiles at Dick. “I was so worried that you’d have to leave, that you’d be stuck on the surface, but you won’t.”
Dick takes a step back, and Bruce barely has a second to be taken off guard before Dick speaks. “That sounds great, but…why are you so nervous about asking, B?”
Bruce hadn’t even realized he was nervous. And yet, his heart is thundering away. Why is he nervous? This is a cause for celebration. Dick can stay with him, like the boy has always wanted. “I don’t know,” Bruce says. “But…I’m so glad you can stay, Dick. I thought you’d be trapped on the surface forever, but now, you can stay here.”
Dick frowns. “But I’ll still be able to hang out with my friends on the surface, right?”
Bruce bows his head. He knows Dick will be disappointed, but this is overall for the best. Dick has grown up in the Grey City. He belongs in the Underworld now. “I’ve found—I’ve found that I can’t stay for more than a day or so. It’s more difficult when it’s light out. If I pushed it, I could stay for two full days, maybe. But I belong here, now, Chum. I am part of this world. And it’s part of me.”
Dick takes another step back as his face warps into something resembling anger. But it can’t be anger, right? Because Bruce is helping. Bruce found a solution to the forces that would inevitably steal Dick away. “So you want to keep me here,” Dick says, voice monotone. “Trapped.”
“No!” Bruce steps forward urgently. He tries to place a hand on Dick’s shoulder, only for the boy to flinch back. That’s—that’s wrong. Bruce has never hurt him. Dick has no reason to flinch. “Of course not, Dick,” he tries. “We go to the surface all the time to fight.”
Dick shakes his head. “Do you think I can’t see it? That look, in your eyes, when I go to the surface alone. It’s like you can’t bear to let me go.”
Of course Bruce can’t. He gestures to the city with a sweeping arm. “Look at it! Can’t you see how grey it looks?”
“It’s always grey,” Dick says.
“It’s different,” Bruce says. “When you’re there, it’s like it’s almost alive.”
“Because I’m alive.” Dick takes another step back, and Bruce longs to close the distance. “I’m alive. Maybe you belong here, but I don’t. I have friends up there. Other people who fight to protect. Donna, and Wally, and Roy. And they don’t look at me like they’d tear me to pieces just to get me to stay.”
Bruce bristles at the accusation. “I would never hurt you.”
“Then what is this?” Dick asks. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you weren’t even going to tell me that I wouldn’t be able to go to the surface for more than a day!”
“I didn’t think it would be this big of a deal!” Bruce thought this was what Dick wanted. He thought it wouldn’t even be a question of if, just how and when. And yet, Dick’s eyes are darting around like a cornered animal’s. Like he thinks he needs to run. There’s only one reason that Dick could believe such a thing—his so-called friends want him to stay and are willing to say anything to convince him. “What have your friends been telling you, Dick? I thought you wanted to stay.”
“Not like this,” Dick hisses. “It’s not worth it, Bruce. I won’t be trapped here.”
“Please,” Bruce says. “If you don’t do this, you might not be able to return.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Dick, please! I have never threatened you.” This is insane. Bruce should never have approved Dick spending so much time with surface dwellers. They’re telling him lies, twisting him, turning Dick against everything he loves.
But Dick had seemed so happy, spending time with his friends. And Bruce had just wanted him to be happy.
Bruce takes a step forward, and when Dick doesn’t step back again, his breath catches in his throat. Maybe, just maybe, he can fix this—whatever this is. “I would never keep you here against your will. I don’t want to trap you. I’m just trying to help.”
Dick thrusts forward his wrist. “Feel it,” he orders.
“What?”
“My pulse. Feel it.”
Slowly, Bruce wraps his hand around Dick’s wrist, like the boy might spook. That’s never been a fear before. But now… “It’s there,” Bruce says. “Fast. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling.”
“My resting heart rate should be 60 to 100,” Dick says. “It’s 35, Bruce.” He twists his hand again to feel Bruce’s pulse. “Yours is—ten, maybe. You’re not alive, not really.” He pulls his hand away. “And I’m turning into you.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” Bruce asks. “We don’t die, here. And our work’s important. And you’re important. As Robin, and as Dick Grayson.”
Dick looks down. He takes a deep breath, even though that isn’t really necessary. He hasn’t broken the habit yet, not with all the time he spends on the surface. “I don’t belong here,” he says. “I’m alive, Bruce. I’m alive. My parents died, but I moved on. I won’t be a Prince or whatever crazy shit you think will help. I won’t be trapped. Even if that’s the only way to stay.”
Bruce can’t understand. He isn’t trapped. Dick has never been trapped. Has always gone where he wanted, and he always wanted to be here. He chose to stay. Bruce doesn’t understand why Dick has this narrative in his head, of Bruce holding him back, keeping him here. Because he never did that. Dick begged to join him.
“So…thank you, Bruce. I mean it. But I won’t do it.” Dick turns around. “I’m leaving.”
Urgency fills Bruce, pulsing through his veins. He’s suddenly filled with a sickening certainty that if Dick leaves now, he will never be able to return to the Underworld. As Dick takes a step, Bruce lunges forward, grabbing Dick’s upper arm to tug him around.
Dick reacts in a flash, like he would on the streets of Gotham, like Bruce trained him to do. He grabs Bruce’s wrist and peels it back, forcing him into a brutal armlock before kicking him in the chest. Bruce doubles over, the maneuver taking him completely by surprise. As Bruce stares at him in shock, Dick runs.
The fog swallows him whole.
It was foolish, Bruce thinks later. Foolish to take a child from the surface as his apprentice. Foolish to think that a child so full of life could ever want to stay. Foolish to think that he knew what was right for Dick.
Dick doesn’t come back to him. His eighteenth birthday passes. The city is drenched in silence.
While fighting a serial murderer, tainted by the darkness of Bruce’s predecessor’s rule, Bruce sees Dick on the television in a blue and black costume, fighting aliens with his friends in New York. He seems…happy. Light and carefree, in a way he never was in the Underworld. And Bruce almost took that away from him.
Bruce turns away, disgust at himself welling within his chest. He could have ruined this child’s life. The fact that Dick survived him was a miracle.
Bruce begins to make preparations for the journey on. Chooses a successor, although he doesn’t tell Jean-Paul about his plans quite yet, quietly training him for the throne.
One last trip to the surface, he decides, and then he will inform Jean-Paul and slip into the fog. One last chance to see the streets where he spent the first eight years of his life. One last chance to catch a glimpse of Dick.
Only—there is a child. (Why is there always a child?)
Bruce remembers this one. He came for the child’s mother two years ago, where she was curled up in the tub. The boy saw him, then. Most people freeze, when they see Death. A few try to run or take Bruce’s hand willingly. This boy fought. A curtain rod, a kitchen knife, and even his teeth, when the boy had exhausted all available weaponry. Very, very few people have ever tried to fight Death—and almost none fight for someone other than themselves.
So, when Bruce sees the child shivering on the side of the street, nearly hidden by the snowbanks, he can’t help but stop. It’s not the boy’s Time, not yet, but he’s…close. So tragically close. If Bruce leaves, Jean-Paul will be back within a week to collect the little one’s soul. Jason, Bruce thinks, as he looks closely. His name is Jason.
“You’re here for me, aren’t you?” Jason asks. For a moment, Bruce fears he’s going to cry. And then, the child whips out a tire iron from the snow and swings.
Bruce doubles over with the force of the blow.
“Well, try and catch me, ya big boob!”
Bruce does not need to catch him. Jason is not ready for Death, even though he will die soon. But Bruce gives chase anyway.
Jason leads Bruce to a ramshackle apartment in a condemned building, with broken windows and only a rickety fire escape as an entrance. Bruce almost thinks it will be the fall that kills the child, until he steps inside the room and sees Jason doubled over, coughing. He’s sick. So very sick. Bruce can feel it coming off of him in waves, now.
Tire iron raised like a baseball bat, Jason takes some approximation of a fighting stance. “I promised my mama I wouldn’t go out without a fight,” Jason says hoarsely. It’s almost a whisper—he must’ve used what was left of his voice earlier. “I promised.”
Bruce looks at the child’s tiny fingers clenched around the tire iron, his clattering teeth, his dirty clothes, his ragged hair, his eyes alight with fear. And suddenly, Bruce knows what he will do. “I wasn’t here for you,” Bruce says.
“Wasn’t,” Jason notes. “So—so you are now?” The tears drip from his eyes. Bruce is surprised he’s even hydrated enough to cry.
“It’s okay,” Bruce says. “I have somewhere you can go. Somewhere you’ll be safe.”
“I don’t want no eternal peace, okay?” Jason says. “Just lemme alone!”
“I don’t mean dying, Jason,” Bruce says. “There’s a city, where people like me live. People in-between. You’ll still be alive, but it’s like a sanctuary.”
“Sounds like a big fat lie,” Jason whispers. He swings the tire iron again, but this time Bruce catches it easily.
“Remember Robin?” Bruce asks quietly. Jason’s mouth drops open. “You know he never could’ve been anything other than alive.”
Bruce can’t believe he’s doing this. Not after what happened with Dick. Not after he came so close to destroying him.
But, he reasons, Jason needs this in a way Dick never did. Jason will die if he stays. And he deserves a home. Somewhere safe.
Bruce extents a hand. Jason takes it. Together, they slip into the Underworld.
Bruce wonders if Jason just made a deal with the devil. It’s strange; he never imagined himself in that role.