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The apartment building is nicer then Danny thought it would be.
It's not nice, don't get him wrong, but it's better then he thought. There's running water, heating and air, and so far the neighbors haven't been nosey or rude. The floors are all laminate, the mirror in the one bathroom is cracked, and there's some mysterious stains and badly plastered holes on the walls, but it's cozy and has two bedrooms.
Danny's got almost everything moved in. He's just waiting on some ikea furniture to arrive for Ellie's room and then it's just unpacking and building. He's not got a lot of things with him; he had to leave most of his stuff at ho-at his par-at Jack and Maddie's house when he left in a hurry. They hadn't been happy to find out he was pregnant-let alone that he was half-ghost-and had given him six hours to pack his things and leave.
He's got the most important stuff, all his documents and his stash of extra cash and ectoplasm. He's just. Lacking in the small comforts.
But it's fine! He's fine. He's no more alone then before he was kicked out. He's, honestly, safer then he was even.
The portal is shut down (not that there was one in Gotham anyway). He's not trying (and failing) to keep up with civilian friends that don't understand or even know what he's going through. He's not hiding and lying constantly.
He's just. He's lonely. He's lonely and tired, but at least he doesn't have to pretend not to be anymore.
He's got his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the tiled floor of the small coffee shop he's interviewing for a job at in two hours. His apartment is okay, but he's not got any food there yet and people watching is a better passtime then moping.
He's waiting his turn to order something to sip on while he waits, only two people from the cashier when the little bell on the door rings as it opens and something in his chest lurches the same moment the person that entered gasps.
Danny whirls around to see who it is and suddenly he's not in a run down coffee shop in Gotham, New Jersey.
He's in a field, the long grass a riot of color as flowers the world no longer has names for bloom anywhere his bare feet fall. He's giggling, spinning and dancing in the wind to a song only she can hear, free from her Mother's villa for the first time since Mother found out about her lover.
She feels the ground shake and bites her lip, delight and excitement and apprehension twisting together in her gut. She knew he would come, knew he would keep his word, knew he loved her enough to come back. She was still worried.
Danny comes back into his body when the bell rings again as the door closes behind the new arrival.
The man is staring at him, seemingly studying him intently, so Danny doesn't feel bad for doing the same.
He's got long black hair and piercing, clear blue eyes. He's in a pair of well-tailored black slacks and matching blaizer over a loose dress shirt with lavender blooms patterned on it-not quite a Hawaiian shirt but in the same family. No tie, Danny assumes to keep the look somewhat casual, but his dress shoes shine like they're new and his accessories speak of the kind of wealth Danny hasn't had in eons. He's got a practical black banded watch with a silver face and a couple delicate chain bracelets to match. His ears are practically dripping with silver jewelry and he's got a small stud in the side of his hooked nose that makes Danny smile.
He's wearing glasses, but they do nothing to soften the way his clear blue eyes survey Danny.
Danny wonders breifly if he remembers , if he knows, and what he must think about the ratty clothing, barely tamed black hair, and the way Danny is just beginning to show that he's carrying.
They never wanted children in their first life, but Danny would rather end then give Ellie up.
He doesn't think about it long. Almost the moment the thought crosses his mind, Hades's face splits with the biggest, wondering grin Danny has even seen on him and in the space of a blink they've come together, hands gripping hands with white knuckles and foreheads pressed together.
"Persephone," he whispers, voice full of amazement and disbelief.
Danny giggles, a little drunk on happiness and awe. "My Hades," she-he responds.
They're being watched but Danny barely cares. He's too busy being wrapped up in his soulmate's aura and wrapping Hades in his in return. She closes her eyes as she melts into him, seperating their foreheads and letting go of his hands only so she can tuck her head under his chin and wrap her arms around him in a proper embrace. "I missed you so much," he chokes out quietly.
Hades tightens his arms around Danny and presses a kiss to the top of his head instead of answering but that's okay. He doesn't need a verbal response when Hades's aura is so desperately sharing everything he's feeling.
They'll need to talk for real eventually, but for now they can bask in the fact that they're not alone anymore, and that's good enough for Danny.
#
Tim has known about his past life as the god Hades since he was seven. His parents came home for a week to drop off some artifacts from their recent dig in Greece and make an appearance as a family at an important gala. Younger Tim knew he wasn't supposed to touch the artifacts they left behind, but there was one-a small bronze ring with intricate patterns all around it-that seemed to speak to him.
He wasn't a stranger to cursed objects, even that young, but the ring hadn't felt cursed so much as it did familiar. He barely waited until they were gone to try to inspect it for himself, and when he did, it was like the world unfolded around him.
Tim learned about who he had lived his first life as and while it took the seven year old a few years to really parse out who he was, he ended up quite content to be Timothy Drake in this one.
The name Hades was a powerful one, and to claim it so openly felt more then arrogant when he didn't know what had become of the Userper that had forced him and his soulmate into reincarnation.
It's been many years now, since he learned about his origins. Almost 12, though Tim hadn't really kept exact count so he couldn't be sure how close.
As Hades, he had been well acquainted with loneliness and had learned to be content with it. He had never truely been alone, surrounded by the other cthonic gods, but he hadn't been able to truely bond with them in the ways he wanted. Not until Persephone, that is.
Being Timothy Drake had forced him to relearn how to be lonely without letting it destroy him, and he had mostly succeeded by the time the second Robin was killed.
Things changed then; he changed. He reached out. He made connections. He grew and learned and picked up family and friends.
He lost them all before he could even begin to contemplate the idea of telling them about his past.
He's alone again, now.
Many of the people he lost are back-death has a looser hold on the mortal world without the rulers of the underworld to help enforce the balance-but they haven't come back to him. Kon and Bart have family and friends across the country from him that rank higher in their priorities then Tim. Cassandra is still learning who she is and who she wants to be in Hong Kong. Stephanie doesn't understand why he's still angry with her and has decided that she won't try to figure it out until he apologizes. Dick still thinks he's gone crazy and won't believe that Damian is a legitimate hazard to his health (though with his divinity returning to him after his death in the desert, Tim isn't entirely sure he is.). Bruce...
Bruce reminds Tim of Demeter too much for him to be entirely comfortable around him right now.
So Tim is lonely again.
Tim is lonely and he's tired, and he's planning his first real vacation from all Gotham business-both cape and civilian-so he can figure out how to be okay with that again.
He's two days out from the start of his leave from Wayne Enterprises and all he's managed to actually plan so far is a trip to Greece to try and find the old passages to the underworld and hope they still work.
He glances down at his phone as he waits for the Walk signal and sighs at the lack of messages. Having his phone with him is only making him feel worse so he vows to leave it behind when he heads to Greece, consequences be damned.
The crowd jolts and he puts his phone away as he starts following them across the road. No use dwelling on his isolation any longer then he has to.
He's almost made it to his lunch destination when a door swings as he passes and the scent of flowers overpowers every other stench on the street.
He freezes.
It's only there for a moment but he doesn't need any longer to recognize it. He knows that scent, could probably name every last flower that makes it up despite none of them existing on the mortal plane for millennia. That scent is baked into the very core of his being, put there lovingly and happily over the course of centuries.
It doesn't matter how long it's been since he last saw his Persephone, he would still recognize any part of her.
The smell was so fleeting, though. It almost wasn't even there, it was so momentary.
What if you're imagining it, the thought makes his eyes burn with tears he won't allow to fall.
He knows it's possible. Probable, even.
It's more likely that he's imagined it then that she's here, let alone awakened enough to carry that perfume again.
He should let it go. Ignore it. If he's going to find her, it's more likely she'll be in the Underworld then in Gotham of all places.
He would never forgive himself if he didn't at least look, so he takes a deep breath and turns to face the door it originated from.
His hand doesn't shake as he reaches to push the door open, though he feels like it should. As it cracks, he gets a whiff of her scent again, growing stronger the more the door opens, and he can't help the way he speeds up.
He hadn't imagined it.
He lets the door fall closed behind him as he surveys the room, unable to stop the gasp that escapes when he finally finds her.
She's got black hair this time, though the streak of white along the front is familiar. Her chin is sharp, her nose delicate, her skin paler then he's ever seen it. She's shorter then he remembers-though Tim supposes he's also shorter then he was as Hades. She's got scars now.
She looks so different that Tim is almost surprised to recognize her.
But her eyes. Her eyes are still the same baby blue of a clear summer day with a ring of neon green around the pupil.
He doesn't register his own movement until she's in his arms, knuckles white where their hands dig into each other's skin and foreheads pressed together.
The rest of the world doesn't matter right now, the only thing that matters is "Persephone."
There's so much emotion in his chest, in the word, in her name, that he can hardly even begin to tell what it's made of.
"My Hades," she's just as quiet and reverent with his name as he was with hers.
They're going to have to talk. A lot. Tim finds he doesn't care. He's not alone anymore. He's not alone, and that's what matters most.