Core Problems
"Jack! Come back here!"
Jason looked up from his book just in time to see a tiny redheaded blur zoom past him and dive behind the couch. He barely had time to register the giggles before realizing the kid was in his underwear.
Ah. An escapee.
Jason sighed, already knowing exactly what had happened. Bathtime jailbreak. Again.
He stretched an arm over the back of the couch and twisted slightly to glance down. Sure enough, Jack was huddled there, teal eyes wide and mischievous as he put a tiny finger to his lips. Jason arched a brow at him. Jack shushed him.
Jason sighed dramatically. Then, because he was an enabler, he shushed back.
It was at that moment that Jazz walked into the room, little Catherine perched on her hip, her damp curls sticking to her forehead. She was taking in the situation with those piercing blue eyes, already too smart for her own good—analyzing, processing, probably coming up with her own toddler-level risk assessment.
Jazz exhaled through her nose, giving Jason a knowing look. He smirked. "I got him. I’ll bring him back in later."
She huffed, shifting Catherine on her hip. "Your kid, your problem," she said, already turning back toward the bathroom.
Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “Ain’t that the truth.” Then, glancing down at the giggling little fugitive still pressed against the couch, he added, "Alright, buddy. Wanna tell me why you’re out here, half-naked, committing high treason against bathtime?"
Jack grinned. "Water too hot!"
Jason snorted. "Kid, you’re half-ghost. You can literally chill water with your mind. Try again."
Jack blinked, then considered.
Jason sighed again. This was gonna be a long night.
Jason sighed, running a hand down his face before leaning over the couch and scooping Jack up with practiced ease. The kid clung to him immediately, pressing his little face into Jason’s chest like he could hide from the world if he just held on tight enough.
When Jason and Jazz had made the decision to officially take in the Crime Alley ghost as their son, they had known—knew—there would be complications. They had seen it firsthand with Bruce and Martha. There were days when Gotham’s own phantom queen would tap into her memories, the ones from before, the ones drenched in darkness, and get scared out of her mind about things long past. It had taken her years to settle, to differentiate between the echoes of the city’s pain and her own sense of self.
Jason had hoped—hoped so damn hard—that none of his core babies would have to go through the same thing.
Wishful thinking.
He settled Jack in his lap, adjusting the kid so they were face-to-face. “Alright, out with it, little man. Tell me the vision.”
Jack huffed, arms tightening around Jason’s torso like they’d done this a dozen times before—which, to be fair, they had. Jason and Jazz had decided early on: no lies, no secrets about where their kids came from. If they ever got their memories back, Jason wanted them to know that they hadn’t been lied to, that their parents had never hidden the truth from them.
Jack sniffled but didn’t hesitate. “It was a kid,” he murmured, voice small. “A little girl. She hadn’t eaten in too long, and she fell. She couldn’t move anymore.” His tiny hands clenched against Jason’s shirt. “And the rain—it was so cold. It was falling all around her, but she couldn’t—she couldn’t even lift her head from the puddle.”
Jason felt a shiver crawl down his spine.
He’d heard a lot of horror stories in his time. Gotham was full of them. But it never got easier hearing them come from his kid’s mouth.
Jason ran a hand over Jack’s locks, pressing a kiss to the top of his little head. “You stayed with her?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.
Jack nodded against his chest. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I didn’t wanna leave her alone. I stayed until she wasn’t there anymore.”
Jason closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing down the knot in his throat. His kid—his sweet, brave little kid—had stayed, had watched over some long-lost soul, had done what no one else had for her.
Jason squeezed him tighter. “You did good, kiddo. That was real kind of you.”
Jack clung to him for a little longer, soaking up the comfort, until finally, he let go just enough to pull back and look up at Jason with those bright teal eyes. “Can we go out later?” he asked, the words quiet but determined. “So no other kid has to be left in the rain?”
Jason felt his chest ache—ache—with how much he loved this kid. He smiled, soft and warm, and ran a hand through Jack’s hair. “Yeah, little man. We can do that.”
Jack beamed, like the weight of the memory had been lifted just a little.
Jason sighed, shaking his head fondly. “You know, when I pictured bathtime, I wasn’t expecting it to turn into a Gotham-wide humanitarian mission, but honestly? That one’s on me. Should’ve known better.”
Jack giggled, curling back into Jason’s chest.
Jason huffed a quiet laugh and held him close, pressing another kiss to his hair.
Yeah. They’d go out later. And tonight, no kid in his city would be left out in the cold.
Jason sighed dramatically, drumming his fingers against the armrest of the couch as he stared down the two-year-old sitting across from him. Catherine, in all her too-smart, too-powerful glory, stared right back, utterly unimpressed. Her chubby little arms were crossed, and her eerie blue eyes—so much like Jason’s, but somehow even more piercing—glowed faintly as she scrutinized him like he was a puzzle she hadn’t quite figured out yet.
This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.
Out of all the ghost cores that hadn’t managed to reform into full spirits, they just had to pick one that called to him. And being the dumbass he was, he’d smeared his own blood all over the thing—after Jazz saying she wanted a mini Jason and with the king’s permission, obviously. Danny had been thrilled when he and Jazz decided to have a second kid, practically bouncing off the walls when Jack turned three and they went through with it.
And that was how Catherine was brought to life.
As a too-smart, too-powerful baby.
Danny still wasn’t sure what she was, exactly. A monument spirit? Probably not. A city ghost? More likely. A country ghost? Terrifyingly possible. An Ancient? Hopefully not. He’d run tests, tried to pinpoint exactly what kind of being they’d accidentally created, but all of them came up inconclusive.
The reality was, at two years old, Catherine could outmatch most people in sheer power alone.
Which was why Jazz was so useful to have around when Cathy threw a tantrum. Jason was strong, sure, but in pure ghostly hierarchy, he wasn’t Jazz. No matter how much Catherine screamed, how much she zapped the lights or rattled the walls, she could never outpower her mother.
Jason, though? Jason she could absolutely outmatch.
And that was why he was currently stuck in a bizarre staring contest in his own damn living room.
Jazz, in all her wisdom, had decided their little boy needed some quality time, which meant she got to take Jack out for the day and left Jason home alone with Cathy.
So now, here he was, sitting on the couch, arms crossed, facing down a toddler who could probably flatten a building with a pout if she really wanted to.
Catherine narrowed her eyes at him, shifting on her little seat.
Jason narrowed his eyes back.
The air crackled.
Yeah. This was definitely going to end with something catching fire.
Before that, Jason needed to tried everything to get Cathy to crack a smile.
He pulled out his best dad jokes—nothing.
He made silly faces—stone-faced.
He even did the dreaded peekaboo, which usually got at least a tiny giggle out of her—absolutely no reaction. Instead, her pout deepened, her little arms crossing tighter as she stared at him with all the judgment of a tiny, ancient being unimpressed with his foolish mortal antics.
Jason groaned, running a hand down his face. “Kid, you’re killin’ me here.”
Cathy just huffed.
Before he could try one last desperate attempt, the dreaded horsey, the living room window slid open and Tim in his Red Robin attire gracefully climbed inside, dusting off his hands. “Jay, you home?”
Jason barely had a chance to process Tim’s arrival before Cathy’s entire demeanor did a complete 180.
Her frown vanished, replaced with the widest, most gleeful grin Jason had ever seen on her little face. Her arms shot up, her tiny fingers opening and closing as she called out, “Tim!”
Tim barely had time to react before Cathy all but demanded to be picked up, wiggling her hands insistently.
Jason blinked. “Oh, come on—”
Tim, the absolute menace, let out a delighted coo and immediately scooped her up, spinning her around like she was the best thing in the universe. Cathy giggled wildly, clinging to Tim’s shirt as he spun her, her little feet kicking excitedly.
Jason scowled, crossing his arms. “Oh, sure, now she smiles.”
Tim shot him a smug grin, still twirling Cathy in his arms. “What can I say, Jay? Some people just have natural charm.”
Cathy giggled again, snuggling into Tim’s chest with a content sigh.
Jason groaned. “I hate both of you.”
Fucking ghost king consort and his inherited charm.
Jason sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as Tim continued to spin Cathy like she was the most precious thing in the world—which, okay, she was, but it still stung that Jason couldn’t get that reaction out of her.
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the couch and raised a brow. “Alright, replacement, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you broke into my apartment just to steal my kid’s affection.”
Tim snorted, finally settling Cathy on his hip. “Nah, I actually need your help with a case. Thought Red Hood would be the perfect guy to put some good old-fashioned Gotham fear into a few people.”
Jason grinned. “Ah, so you do need me.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately.”
Jason glanced at Cathy, who was currently playing with the collar of Tim’s shirt, before shrugging. “Well, thanks for keeping this one distracted while I head out.” He turned on his heel and made his way toward the door, expecting an easy exit.
He barely made it three steps before a tiny, insistent voice called after him.
“Daddy?”
Jason froze mid-step.
Behind him, Cathy’s little hands opened and closed again, reaching toward him as her expression completely shifted from smug little gremlin to the saddest, most pitiful toddler in existence.
Jason blinked. What.
Tim snickered. “Oh wow. You see this, Jay?”
Jason turned around, completely baffled, as Cathy squirmed in Tim’s arms, still reaching out for him. “Wait, hold on. You never make that face at me—”
Tim grinned. “Yeah, but turns out Miss Frowny Face is actually a total Daddy’s girl, huh?” He adjusted his hold on Cathy before promptly handing her over to Jason.
Jason instinctively took her, watching as she immediately clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder.
He blinked again. What was happening.
Cathy let out a tiny, satisfied grunt, clearly happy now that she was back in her dad’s arms.
Tim crossed his arms, smug. “See? She just likes making you suffer before showing it, just like her mommy.”
Jason looked down at the little traitor snuggled into his chest, then back at Tim, still trying to process. “You’ve got to be kidding me—”
Before he could finish, Cathy squirmed again, grunting as she reached back toward Tim.
Tim lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? You want me again?”
Jason, still bewildered, handed her back.
Cathy settled in Tim’s arms for a full two seconds before reaching for Jason again.
Jason took her.
Two more seconds. Cathy reached for Tim.
Tim took her.
Back and forth, back and forth—until it devolved into a full-on game of hot potato, the two men tossing a ghostly toddler between them while she grunted and reached, like she couldn’t decide who she wanted.
After about the fifth pass, Jason groaned, holding Cathy out like she was a particularly confusing puzzle. “Kid, pick a side!”
Cathy just grinned.
“Maybe.. maybe I have the answer,” Tim hummed. “For this debacle”
Jason looked at him hopeful.
Jason should’ve known better.
The moment Tim got that look—the one that meant he was about to say something ridiculous—Jason should’ve shut the whole conversation down. But no, he let Tim speak.
And now? Now he was standing on a rooftop, fully decked out in his Red Hood gear, but with the added humiliation of a baby carrier strapped to his chest.
Inside said carrier, his two-year-old menace of a daughter was wiggling excitedly, tiny fists clenching and unclenching like she was about to throw down with Gotham’s entire criminal underworld.
“Why am I doing this?” Jason groaned, already regretting everything.
“Because you love me,” Tim said, entirely too smug, as he adjusted his own grappling line.
“No, I don’t—”
“Oh, and because you lost the argument.”
Jason scowled. “I did not—”
“Yes, you did,” Tim interrupted, grinning. “And now you get to take your adorable little murder baby out for her first real Gotham patrol.”
Jason exhaled sharply, rubbing at his temples. He should’ve known he couldn’t win once Tim pulled out the tiny Robin mask and stuck it on Cathy’s face.
It was a trap.
A cruel, well-thought-out trap.
And like an absolute moron, he’d walked right into it.
“This is not a place for a toddler,” Jason tried, one last time, though he was already securing his own grappling line.
Tim just shrugged. “Sure, a normal toddler. But Cathy? She phases through walls, yeets people across rooms, and literally eats ghosts for fun with her Auntie Matty. She’s built different, man.”
Cathy, as if sensing the conversation was about her, wiggled harder.
Jason sighed, glancing down at his daughter, who was practically vibrating with excitement. “You better not tell your mom about this.”
Cathy giggled, kicking her feet.
Jason muttered a curse under his breath before finally pushing off the rooftop. The grappling line went taut, sending him soaring through the night—Cathy’s delighted screech ringing through the air like a miniature battle cry.
“WHEEEEEEEEEE!”
Tim, swinging beside them, was cackling. “Oh yeah, she loves this!”
Jason groaned, adjusting his hold on the carrier as Cathy threw her arms up like she was on a rollercoaster. “I hate you.”
Tim just grinned. “Nah, you love me.”
Jason growled but said nothing.
Because, honestly?
Tim wasn’t wrong.