Strange Birds

by Darklady

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I *do* own the story, that isn't saying much. This is a challenge response. (eggblue - you are EVIL!)

Slash?: Only in implications. My character's don't do that on the first `date'.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Not really. But if you haven't read Young Justice #44 you wont have the slightest idea what's going on.

Explanations: I just couldn't see the Bat - so I transferred Bruce Wayne into the Gray Ghost. (Bruce Wayne's childhood icon.) The Ghost is a 40's type pre-Batman who does Bat-type heroics, but who wears a gray suit under his gray cape, mask,and hat. This is still Bruce Wayne. Weird, I know. But? If DC can combine three Robins?

Archive: Ask

Strange Birds
by Darklady
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)

Half blind with panic, Jason Todd pushed his way past the paramedics who were loading Annette into the ambulance. She had been below the net - fortunately for him - when first his swing line and then the safety net gave way, sending him spinning out of control into the circle of clowns. He had smacked straight into her back - and waked away with only a shredded costume to show for the disaster. Annette had been far less fortunate. Two broken arms and several more ribs.

Jason shuddered. That could be him. Next time it would be.

He had to get away, he knew. But there was nowhere to go. The circus was the only life he knew. With the contract his so-loving stepmother had insisted he sign he couldn't join up with another outfit. And with the *no* money his father gave him he didn't have the cash to get to another circus even if he had been free.

He stumbled past the lion cage, desperate to loose himself at least momentarily in the circle of shadow just beyond the circus lights.

He supposed he could run. Just leave. Head out. Probably he should. Anything had to be a safer bet then this. But where could he run *to* that Killer Croc couldn't find him?

Lost in his own misery, Jason didn't even look up when long gray Bentley pulled along side him.

"Jason Todd." A deep, almost mythic voice rolled out of the darkened interior. "Jason Todd. I've been watching you."

"Thanks man, but..."

The car door swung open. "Get in."

Hell no, Jason thought, He had enough trouble already. Stuff this spooky he did *not* need. Raising his hands, Jason backed way. "No thanks, man. I don't know what you're after, but..."

The hypnotic voice cropped lower. "Two words. Killer Croc."

Jason jerked back. "What do you know about..."

"I would rather that was my question. Get in."

Jason shook his head. "Sorry man - if this is some sort of mob thing...?"

"Hardly." One large gray-gloved hand reached out, catching Jason by the forearm and pulling him forward. "I am a nemesis - not a rival."

"Holy shit." Jason swallowed hard as his eyes adapted to the dimness just enough to reveal the caped figure he had thought existed only on the covers of pulp magazines. "You're the Gray Ghost. And you're alive. I mean real."

Was the man *ever* real! Even in his confusion, Jason couldn't help but notice the broad shoulders and deep chest that showed just below the folds of gray fabric. He had live all his life with athletes. Had lived *as* an athlete. He was used to being fit and more then fit. But this man was *amazing*!

"I am living," the Gray Ghost continued, "And you soon may not be. Not if Killer Croc considers you a threat."

Jason scrambled into the gray upholstered interior, dropping into the seat beside the Ghost. *Right* beside the Ghost. This was a big car - but a car was a car. Even the biggest was not so big. And the Gray Ghost was a *big* man.

Long training took over. Rope or rival - never show fear. Forcing his best show smile, the young man turned, resting one hand on the smoked glass that separated this compartment from whoever was up front driving the car. "Is that why you're here?"

"It is..." The Ghost hesitated for just a second, but in that second Jason felt as if the man's fog-blue eyes search every inch of Jason's body - and soul. "One of the things here that interests me." Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because the gray icon leaned forward, pressing his captive back against the padded door. "Now - tell me all you know about Killer Croc."

"What make you think I know anything." Jason was proud that his voice did not break.

The Ghost pressed past the evasion. "If you knew nothing - he would not have tried to kill you."

"An accident, man." Jason tried to shrug, his action pressing his half-bare chest against the unyielding planes of his questioner. He squirmed, but tried to cover it with attitude. "It happens."

The Ghost pressed forward, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. "Not twice at the same time. A rope *and* a net? Improbable." Both hands gripped Jason's shoulders, holding him firmly. "What do you know about Killer Croc."

"I know he likes to hurt people. Especially people who cross him."

That earned a bitter smile. "Especially handsome young men, and most especially handsome young men who refuse him."

"How did you...?"

"I've studied Killer Croc. I know his ways." The Gray Ghost released his hold, raising one gloved hand to brush the young man's cheek. "You are a very handsome young man. He tried for you, did he not?"

"Maybe." Jason tried to pull his eyes from the Ghost's too-knowing ones. Hopeless. "Yes." He shivered as the hand on his face moved lower - steel hard but still somehow gentle. "But my dad said no. Said that they needed me able to do my show, and that Croc would ruin me."

"True enough." The Ghost's voice echoed strangely in the tight confines of the auto. "I know..." The hand moved lower, perhaps offering comfort. "I've seen the... remains. Killer Croc likes to play with his food."

Jason flinched at the image that drew. "Yeh - but like I said - Dad told him no."

"But you didn't trust your father to *keep* saying no." The Ghost was relentless now. "Not if Croc got... demanding. You went looking for information. Evidence that you could use against your parents - and against Killer Croc. Against your parents. You thought that having proof of their crimes would keep you safe."

Jason gripped at the gloved hand now resting on his chest. "How did you know that?"

"I know that Croc never lets anyone live to testify," came the unhesitating response. " And I saw a blonde woman cutting the ropes. A woman who looked remarkably like your mother."

"Stepmother." Jason answered automatically.

"Corrected."

"So." Jason forced himself to let go of the gray hand. After all, he wasn't a kid. "Even if you saw ... her... do *that*." He pulled himself up, sitting stiffly on the bench seat. Eyes forward. "That's no proof its Crock. Maybe she just doesn't dig step-kids."

The dark man chuckled. Not a humorous laugh, but one that somehow vibrated in time with Jason's own rage. "Your step-mother might dislike you, but I doubt she would risk murder one without more incentive then the cost of keeping a teenager in Nikes." The knowing eyes were on Jason again, this time tracing the red and green shreds of his spangled leotard. "Especially since you are one of the Big Ring's star attractions."

Jason nodded. An involuntary response. Ghod, this guy had the bitch nailed. Still, he wasn't the sort to back down. Bracing himself, he met the masked man's gaze. "You think she'd keep me around for the cash?"

That drew another chuckle, more bitter then the first. "I find that financial incentives are generally sufficient motivation for most people."

"You...?" Jason searched that chiseled planes of the hard-set face. "Is that what you're gonna offer me? `Cause I don't..."

"No." The word was a quiet slap.

The gray hand gripped Jason's arm, pulling him closer to the shadow warrior. "I think I can come up with a far better incentive."

Half an inch from the masked face, the young man could feel the breath of his...captor?...savior?... whatever this man was. Hot. Sweet. Jason had the mad urge to lean forward. To close the fraction of space between himself and this dark knight.

"I was watching you tonight." The deep voice continued slowly, strokingly. "You are beautiful - as you know. But beyond that...you have... strength. You deserve much more then this shabby carnival can give you."

Jason battled back the impulse that demanded that he just surrender. That he give this conqueror whatever he demanded. He didn't know this man - whatever his traitor body might believe - and what he did know was spooky to the point of madness. Forcing his thick-feeling tongue to obey, he stammered. "And what is it you think you can give me?"

The Ghost relaxed, leaving back against his own cushions and permitting his... guest.. a few more inches of free space. "First.. I can give you a way out."

Jason couldn't help the flare of hope that spread across his features,even though he knew at once that the Ghost had seen them too. Seen it, and known it for what it was.

Openly gratified, the Ghost went on. "Second - with your help I can take down Croc once and for all."

Wild words, but Jason knew the Ghost believed them. And from this man, Jason believed them too. Whatever the Gray Ghost said - he would do. Killer Croc was as good as alligator luggage right now. And his dad's new wife would be packed away right along with her boss. Jason's first response was an urge to cheer like the popcorn seats. That lasted half a second before the harsher - carney trained - side of his mind took over.

"So far, so good." Jason snapped back. "But that still leaves me pretty well screwed." He hesitated, not wanting to displease those blue eyes, but also needing not to seem weak. "I mean - I don't want to be killed. Obvious, right? But I also don't want to be on the streets." He gestured meaningfully to the glittered name still stitched across the torn lycra on his chest. "If the cops shut down the Big Ring? Trapeze artist isn't exactly a job skill that translates. And I don't have any other talents I want to sell."

The Gray Ghost frowned. "So you would stay here?"

"It's crap - but it's home." Jason raised his chin, waiting for the inevitable condemnation. None of the `townies' ever understood the circus life. The Ghost might be a legend, but he was townie too. He'd probably just think that Jason should move on. Become `normal'.

That was what Jason was expecting. Instead a wide smile arced across the masked face, Not the bitter grin of before, but brighter - almost happy. One gloved finger reached out to brush back the still-damp curls from Jason's forehead.

"What if I could promise you another home?" the deep voice purred. "A better home?"

"With you?"

"With me. Partner."

Relaxing back into the soft gray leather of the interior, Jason held out his hand. "You take out the Croc and the Step-bitch, and I'm all yours."