Chapter Text
Owen’s eyes blinked blearily as he pulled away from the torch that had just been shone into his eyes. It had been a few hours of tests now, sitting in a cold, clinical lab that he assumed was up on the Watchtower. He didn’t quite know – Batman and Nightwing had been particularly secretive about where they were taking him upon finding him.
He sat back on the medical bay bed and watched Batman examine his results again, as if the numbers on the paper might change any moment. But they’d taken his blood pressure twice. Checked his pupils and how they dilate. Checked his reflexes (adjusted, of course, for his speed). Taken a blood sample to make sure he was really Owen, and not some weird lookalike who’d just happened to find himself in that lab at that moment.
“How did you get there?” The question startled Owen out of his thoughts, and he levelled a mulish glare at Batman.
“I already told you, Bats – I don’t know!”
“That lab was supposed to be completely empty,” Batman continued, unphased, “How did you get in?’
“Jesus Christ,” Owen huffed, and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, “you just aren’t getting me – I don’t know. One minute it was nothing, next minute I’m standing in a room with you and Di – Nightwing – aiming batarangs at me,”
It was at that moment Dick decided to re-enter the room, that forced I-don’t-want-to-be-here smile plastered on his face, and his shoulders tensed in a way that made Owen feel less than reassured. But that being said, anything was better than being grilled more by Batman.
“So, I’ve confirmed the blood tests again,” he gave Batman a smirk, “and he still checks out as Owen. Seems to be the same age as when he died, so it has to be a recent res. Hey –” He turned to Owen, and the corners of his mouth turned slightly downward, “Owen, what’s the last thing you remember?”
Owen blinked a little. Then he tried to think (which, wow, when was the last thing he remembered?). And for a long, long time, he just sat there being watched by the Bats. He could feel Batman getting impatient. Dick seemed… maybe worried? But, given the last time they’d seen each other, maybe his concerns were somewhat founded.
But eventually it happened, and Owen did manage to get his memories from out of the blackness. And it wasn’t pleasant. Memories of his zombie father started to flood to the surface – and amongst them all…
He retched, and, failing to reach for the bin across the room, sped over to it instead. He hit the wall heavily, and slumped, remaining above the bin after he was done vomiting. His knees were on the floor, and his arms cradled it like it may be taken away from him. Then, there was a hand on his back, and Owen let Dick rub it up and down while he murmured something he couldn’t quite make out to Batman.
Soon enough, after a hushed argument between Nightwing and Batman, Dick helped Owen back to the bed and brought the bin over with them, moving to sit next to Owen and putting an arm around his shoulders. Reassuring, yes, but also holding him firmly in place.
“Owen, what is the last thing you remember?”
It was barely a question this time. Owen had the distinct feeling that Dick knew exactly what he remembered.
“My dad,” He took in a shaky breath, and made sure to pull the bin closer again, “he – he ate me. The Rogues fed me to him. And then… then, nothing,”
Dick nodded. His grip on Owen loosened a little, and he let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. Blackest Night. I’m afraid the Black Lanterns really did a number,”
“Oh,”
“Oh?” The smirk Dick gave was almost jovial. “You just remembered how you died, and you’re going with ‘oh’?”
“Well, nothing else really fits,” Owen tugged at the sleeves of his jacket. He wondered absently exactly how his clothes had survived and come back with him – but in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t seem worth pursuing, really. “So, what happened to my Dad after? To the Rogues?”
“Well,” Dick launched into an almost too-well rehearsed recollection of everything that had happened post-Blackest Night. About Digger becoming a White Lantern and being resurrected. Kid Flash coming back to life after a strange period of adulthood. The original Flash returning to take his mantle back on once more. The Rogues periodically being arrested and freed from prison. “And,” he added at the end, “we found out who your Mom is,”
That definitely hadn’t been what Owen expected.
Dick let him digest the news for a few moments before continuing, “she, uh – her being your mother also gives us a relative we can introduce you to. You know, if you want,”
“Are they – y’know,” Owen looked down at his lap, “like me?”
“A supervillain?” Dick chuckled at Owen’s glare, “a speedster, you mean? Yeah,”
The two former teammates sat in a companionable silence after that revelation. Owen kept fidgeting with his sleeve jacket, and Dick eventually pulled out his phone with the intention of texting Tim and Kara.
“So, did you want me to call him?” Dick eventually broke their silence, holding his phone up to show Owen.
Owen pursed his lips in response, and shifted his hands to play with the zipper of his jacket rather than the sleeve. “Uh, yeah,” He finally answered, when he realised Dick was waiting for one, “Yeah, please,”
“And did you want Tim and Kara to –”
“No,”
Dick hadn’t been expecting that. “Are you sure? They were devastated when you died… they’d want to –”
“No.” That was colder, and Owen gave Dick a heavy look. “No, I can’t. I can’t see them. Not yet,”
“Okay, then,” Dick held his hands up in a placating gesture, “Let’s just call your brother,”