Chapter Text
“Move!” Jason screamed at Red Robin. The other man jumped out of the way of a moving missile, then nodded towards Red Hood as a way of thanks.
Jay didn’t pay much attention to it, as he continued running towards the robot. Most people thought of him as single-minded, his only solution being the guns he often used, but they were wrong. He was raised by Batman. He had to be resourceful.
Hood snatched a kris from the side of his black cargo pants. “Hey, fuckass!” He yelled at the robot, gaining its attention. The piece of machinery began stumbling his way. Batman had already gotten a chunk of its left leg off, so that left the monster limping.
Jason used his grapple to get above the monster and land on its neck. He, of course, wasn’t going to choke him, but grabbed the large head and began using his kris to stab it too many times to take count. That left the monster distracted while Red Robin used a wire to string together its two legs. The machine lost balance when its legs were tied up and Jason pushed him forward enough to knock him over.
Batman activated the EMT to stop the machine from coming alive and finish what it was programmed to do.
Jason looked down at the robot, wanting to kill it even though he knew he couldn’t. It had been made by some C-list evil scientist, and was programmed to reek havoc on Crime Alley. Red Hood’s territory. His reasoning, they would find out later, was to finally destroy that part of Gotham because it was an embarrassment to the city. Jason wanted to scream and laugh at the same time, because the entirety of Gotham was a shithole.
“Hood,” Batman grumbled as a way of greeting, and Jason would forever hide how Bruce saying that always made his heart flutter with some giddiness he couldn’t quite describe. It was toxic, the way Bruce always made him feel at home despite the resounding amount of tension between them.
Jason didn’t know the last time he felt the world was straight. Just when he felt he was safe from the demons of his past, he felt the wind change. The criminals became tougher. The world tilted on its axis and he was stuck clinging to the edge of his sanity. He had to face those demons yet again, encounter new ones, and find new ways to suppress them. The night terrors, however, refused that. His own brain, the one thing that he was supposed to trust, the one thing that was to never change, hated him so much his sanity was constantly being pushed to the limit. His own brain was used against him. It allowed the demons to creep into his vision when he got too angry. It allowed the demons to choke him, cutting off all air when he could no longer handle the pressure.
“B,” Jason scowled, but he was scowling inwardly. Here he was, standing in front of his many demons, allowing it to hurt him yet again. And Bruce hadn’t even said anything remotely offensive in the conversation yet.
Batman ducked his head as a silent way of acknowledgment, then said, “Thank you.” The swish of his cape said he had left to collect more evidence about this scientist to put him behind bars longer.
Saying thank you to his kids was his own fucked up way of saying, “Come home, please? I miss you,” but Jason couldn’t care less. He would care more if Bruce were to actually say he misses them rather than pussyfoot around the situation.
Nope. Jason did not care. At all. He was a careless, cold bastard who just so happened to cuddle with his boyfriend most nights and make sure all the kids in his neighborhood had toys to play with.
The aftermath of Crime Alley was...rough. Most convenience stores were destroyed, the soup kitchens had a shortage of volunteers because everyone was scared to work there anymore, and because many building were demolished it meant many people had lost their jobs.
And Jason knew what happened when people lost their jobs and needed money.
He had turned to prostitution as a way of survival as a kid. It was a last-ditch effort of getting the money he didn’t get from his parents. He was desperate and regretted giving himself to strangers he didn’t know before he could properly read Shakespeare.
He resorted to not only volunteering at the shelters, but also giving to the workers on the corner. Most workers had been working for a few years, but a few were new, he could tell.
He could tell because one had offered a session. He laughed after she had asked him, mostly because he hated the Johns who would accept the offer. “Um,” she stuttered when she heard his amused laugh.
Mary, one of the more experienced prostitutes, smiled knowingly. “You ain’t gettin’ nothin’ from him, darlin’,” Mary told her.
The inexperienced sex worker, Sherie, nodded, now understanding. “He...?” She trailed off.
“You can always go to him if someone threatens or hurts you,” another worker, Renee, responded. “He’s the Red Hood. He’s good for people like us.”
Sherie nodded along. “Oh,” she breathed out. Jason was finished laughing, and stared long and hard at her, though the domino mask did a little to cover his calculating eyes. They seemed to bore into her soul, almost determining if she were a good person or not.
After a moment, he nodded and stuck out his hand. “Call me Hood,” he greeted.
She hesitantly shook it, and Jason promised to himself that he would prove himself enough that she wouldn’t anymore hold that fear in her eyes.
He was snapped back into reality when he heard Renee inform him, “There’s a creep that’s been goin’ round to the other ladies.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed to slits, the white of the lenses still managing to be intimidating. “Know the name?” He asked, his tone none too gentile. He knew these ladies were always at risk simply for providing for their family. Sometimes, this was all they had. They depended on this to give to their families. They depended on this to survive.
“I don’ know exactly,” Mary jumped in. “But I heard it from a girl on Fifth.” Jason felt the green haze at the back of his brain make a rapid jump to the front of it, and suddenly all he needed was a name. Whoever it was, he as going to die.
A girl.
Not a woman.
A girl.
“She said his name is Tony Renzo,” Renee finished for her after seeing the look on Jason’s face.
Jason’s face hardened further, as if to memorize this feeling. He needed to memorize it to push him more later. “How old is she?” He demanded. Mary and Renee immediately tensed, but Sherie was the first to speak up.
“She looked ‘bout twelve.”
Jason felt his hands shaking as he lifted the hood to cover his face once again. “I’ll kill the fucker, don’t worry ladies,” he gritted out before he grappled to the nearest rooftop.
Tony Fucking Renzo.
Jason ended up beating him up to unconsciousness when he found him two days later. He was bedded with another prostitute, although at least this one was of age.
Jason wondered who that girl was. Who had to sell her young body to provide for herself. He knew too familiarly how that felt.
He supported sex work, don’t get him wrong, but when you’re faced with the slim chance of survival at a young age, parents gone after abusing you, sometimes sex work is the only way to go. For him, it only caused him more damage. His trust during sex was fickle. Kyle knew this. He was one of the only partners Jason had that actually respected that.
“Who was she?” Jason demanded of Tony, voice low and deadly and dripping with absolute hate and disgust. Tony shivered, the fear rattling him to his bones.
“I don’ ‘member!” Tony panicked. Jason threw his head into the nearest brick wall. Maybe that would trigger a memory. “Okay! Okay!” Tony held up his hands in a surrender gesture. “She said it was Charlie!”
Jason stared at him, hoping for a last name. Although he knew she couldn’t be that stupid. No worker would give away their last name, especially a kid. “No last name given?” Jason growled.
Tony shook his head.
Then Tony saw a fist coming his way, and blackness came over his vision.
Jason, because of someone (Kyle’s) little voice bouncing around in his head, decided to (heroically) not kill Tony. Instead, the pedophile faced life in prison not only from...well, pedophilia, but also tax fraud. Jason was actually glad that the justice system gave a man what he deserved. Tony’s wife and kids bounced to Bludhaven when it all went down.
The only thing left was to find that kid. Charlie.
The sunlight teased Jason’s tan skin, the heat making him regret ever wearing the leather jacket to begin with, but he also had a secrecy to uphold. The workers on the corner weren’t out yet, but they mostly lived in the same area as their areas of town. Jason had found out the general area where Renzo had picked the kid out thanks to Renee, Sherie, and Mary. Sherie was surprisingly the one who had seen the most.
“I jus’ saw a kid come outta a dude’s car. She was pretty fucked up,” she had told Jason.
“How fucked up?” He questioned.
Sherie’s shoulders rose to her ears, then she responded with a whisper: “She had a bunch o’ bruises. I think she was limpin’.” The whispers of the Lazarus pit were louder, and the red covered his entire sight. He didn’t bother himself with responding, he was sure his stiff, defensive stature proved enough to Sherie.
It had led him to the corner of Fifth and Peter Avenue. It was still daylight, so he was watching covertly from a small restaurant across the corner.
“Want some?” The waitress—Jason looked at her name tag—Jessica asked. She pointedly held up her right hand which was holding a halfway filled coffee pot.
Jason shook his head. “No thanks,” he responded. “Got tea?” He asked.
Jessica provided him an odd look, as though someone asking for tea was a rare occurrence, then left to get a pot of hot water. Jason scoffed at her weird reply, then crossed his arms across the top of the table.
He guessed the kid was near—she most likely not experienced enough to go to a corner further away from her home, so she had to be lurking near. Sherie couldn’t give much of a physical description due to the bruises littering her entire body, but she did provide a hair color: Black. It was common, but if that’s all Jason had than that was okay. He’s dealt with less information than that before.
Jason looked away from the window to where the waitress left to the kitchen, wondering why it was taking so long.
Then he saw-
“We don’t give handouts, kid!” A short, stout man screamed at a little girl. Black-haired girl.
“Can’t spare any fuckin’ water, fuckass!?” The girl replied. “What a great business you’re runnin’ here.”
Jason knew that was the kid. He could still see the lingering bruises on her arms and face.
Jason rushed up, squaring his shoulders. He walked up behind the girl—Charlie. “We gotta problem here?” He demanded of the man.
“Yeah, dude.” His face was red with rage. “Get the hell outta my restaurant!”
Jason glared at the man, and he could see him bristle. But Jason only cared about one thing. “Apologize,” he demanded with gritted teeth.
The man stopped, blinking twice before asking, “Wha?”
Jason narrowed his eye further, and he knew they were changing to the Lazarus green color by the expression of fear painted on the man’s face. “Apologize to her,” he repeated.
The girl crossed her arms, both offended by this stranger having to defend her and the asshole who was kicking her out for simply asking for water. The man last night had choked her hard enough to that her throat felt dry and gross today.
The man’s eyes were blank, focused on Jason, before he scoffed and walked away back to the kitchen. Jason felt some pride surge up his spine when he looked down and Charlie was still standing there, arms across her narrow frame.
The girl looked up, her eyes a honey brown. It was a nice change from the dull blue of his family.
Jason looked over at the waitress to see her with a pitcher of hot water. She was standing at his table, unashamedly playing on her phone and waiting for Jason to get back to his table. It wasn’t like they were busy. There were only a few other customers seated, and most of them already had food.
Charlie finally spoke up, “You didn’t need to defend me.” Her voice was hoarse, and Jason felt another wave of rage swim through his body at that fact. “I’m not some damsel in need of protecting,” she mumbled out.
Jason snorted, the sound shocking the young girl out of her melancholy reverie. “I know, kid,” he said. She narrowed her eyes, obviously confused at why he had helped her. Jason didn’t have an answer for her himself, so he shook those contemplations out of his head and motioned towards his table. “I got tea,” he told her.
She bit her lip. “How do I know ya’ not a pedo?” She challenged.
Jason frowned, because that instant distrust didn’t come from nothing. “Because I incarcerated Tony Renzo,” he responded. She paused, then nodded. Her brown eyes went blank, but she bit her lip hard enough to give herself some feeling.
“Fine,” she relented with a powerful whisper. Jason wanted to smile when she began walking to the table and sat in the booth, the old seats barely creaking under her malnourished frame. Jessica didn’t hesitate to pour some hot water for her, barely looking up from her phone.
She placed a tea bag on the table, then left when Jason gave her a short nod as a way to say it would be awhile to order.
Jason sat across from Charlie. “Hi,” he greeted anticlimactically.
“Hi,” she mumbled. There was an awkward pause between the two, as though the world was slowly shifting and Superman was making time go slower. Then: “How’d ya’ know ‘bout Renzo?”
Jason knew this was coming.
“I heard from the women on the corner that there was a girl sellin’ her body to some cheap pedophiles,” Jason responded, and he knew it was harsh, but as a former street kid, like her, he knew it was best to rip off the band-aid than make the suffering longer. It came with the streets. People were blunt. They didn’t care about your feelings, and they certainly didn’t care if you lived to the next day. They just care about themselves.
Charlie clenched her hands into fists above the table. “I’m not a girl,” she growled.
“Charlie,” the use of her name despite not telling him made her bristle, “You’re twelve.” She raised her eyebrows, as though expecting him to finish his thought. He did: “Ya’ know what the age of consent is?”
She rolled her eyes, as though it were as cheap of a law as using your turn signal. “I know what the age of consent is,” Charlie answered shortly. “But if I need money, ima find any way to get it.”
Jason’s eyes turned sad, but he continued the conversation. Old memories were swirling past him as fast as he could recall, and he once again loathed the Lazarus Pit for not erasing childhood memories.
“Look,” he grits out. She stilled. “I know your...train of thought or whatever,” she looked suspicious. “But you’re a kid. You need to be a kid.” God knows he never had that opportunity, with selling his body to live on the streets then becoming a vigilante with daddy issues.
Charlie scoffed and dropped in her seat, a subtle way to convey that she either didn’t care or had already thought of that and knew it couldn’t be. “My parents left,” she muttered out, and Jason felt his rage begin to light up his eyes again. “I need to be the adult because there’s no other ones around.”
She was stiff.
She didn’t truly believe it, but felt she had to say it...because why trust this suspicious man in front of her? Why raise suspicions and possibly be taken away where everything would change? How could she trust anyone when everyone, even her parents, had proved otherwise?
“I grew up on the streets,” Jason began, and the girl’s eyes widened. He continued, pointedly not staring at her but instead the light-up sign on the window across from him, “I had to sell my mouth. Mom was a druggie and Dad a fuck-up. I get it, Charlie.”
Charlie was completely silent. The hanging pause between them felt like an endless one. The clock kept ticking, the waitress was flirting with a customer, the sizzle of the burgers were louder and more prominent than before. Everything felt more intense. Jason’s eyes were now focused on her, too understanding and worried.
He knew.
Charlie felt her eyes begin to water, her cheeks puffing up to a startling red as her lips bled from her biting them too hard. Jason wanted to reach across the table and stop her, but he knew it wasn’t his place. Fat tears ran down her tan cheeks, leaving trails of evidence behind.
He knew. She was vulnerable and there was no way to stop it. He knew.
“Wha...” She breathed out. Her lungs felt heavy and there was roaring in her ears. It felt like the slow-motion had ceased and everything was moving too fast. It was too much.
Jason let her finish. “What do I do?” She asked helplessly. Jason gulped. He wanted to hold out his hand, provide her a home, because he sure as hell was grateful Bruce did that, despite their rocky relationship thereafter.
Jason tugged the zipper of his jacket, a nervous habit he’s had ever since he was Charlie’s age. He finally spoke up, “I have a safe house on Sixth and Hamilton.” Charlie’s dark eyebrows rose. “I never go there, really, so don’t worry about not being able to sleep.” Charlie’s breath stuttered. This man seemed trustworthy, but she knew from experience that looks were deceiving. “There’s food, water, a TV, the basic things.” Bingo. That’s all she needed to know.
“Can I-“
“Here’s the address,” Jason held out a piece of paper before she could ask her question. He already knew she was going to ask for the address, her body language screamed it. “Go apeshit, kid,” he joked. Charlie stared at him, waiting for the catch, but he sat there, completely still. “Jus’ don’t make a mess-“
“You want me to suck your dick or somethin’?” She demanded, the address tucked in her beaten up pocket.
Jason’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Ever say that shit to me again and I’ll take away the cable.” It was his way of tough love. “I would never fuckin’ ask that of you, so shut up. You’re a kid. You deserve some place to stay.” He pointedly avoided saying home.
Charlie was scared, but also...
She felt something inside her scream at her heart, as though demanding it to feel something. To feel the genuine concern this man was providing her. It was...unique to her.
She didn’t think it was entirely unwelcome, either.
Charlie relished the days she spent in the safehouse. She was constantly on defense, expecting Jason to come in and rape or kill her, but no. Nothing.
It shocked her that someone could actually do this out of the kindness of their heart. It wasn’t believable to her. Everyone in her life, including her family, had abandoned her needs for their own. Everyone in her life had been selfish and cold-hearted.
It had shocked her even more when she heard a loud thump echo across the apartment, loud and distinct enough to worry her. She wanted to escape, but knew her position would be fatal because she was four stories high. Charlie turned her body to look at the clock beside her-the bed. 3:23, it read.
Fuck. Was she being robbed?
She heard harsh grunts, then the springs on the couch moaning. She guessed that someone had fallen onto the couch out of either exhaustion or drunkenness, both of which she had experience with.
Charlie snatched a baseball bat from under her bed that she had stolen, then cautiously made her way to living room where the noises were loudest.
“Fuck!” The voice yelled out of pain.
That voice. It was familiar.
“Jason?” She whispered out, bat still drawn over her head.
“Heh?!” Jason yelled from behind the couch, peeking his head to the top. His eyes seemed to finally recognize her. “Oh fuck,” he murmured tiredly, flopping back on the couch.
“Are-“ Charlie gulped harshly, and she once again remembered she was just a kid. “You okay?” She got out. A dark chuckle was his response, and she shivered. Everything in her body was telling her to run, but she knew he needed her. Something was wrong.
“I got stabbed,” Jason said, shocking her.
“How are you alive?!” She gaped.
Jason scoffed. “The movies are wrong.” She didn’t know how to reply. Jason made a short motion with his hand, telling her to come to him. She hesitantly walked over, as if she were in a lion’s den. When he saw her, he immediately requested, “Gimme some whiskey, ‘Kay?”
Charlie felt her entire body tense. She knew how whiskey and men went. It was not a good combination.
“To clean the wound,” Jason clarified for her. She paused, then nodded, walking to the kitchen cabinet she knew was off-limits for her. She grabbed a brown bottle by the neck, then hurriedly rushed back to Jason. He was holding out his hand for it, and made a small noise when he felt the bottle fall into his hand.
Charlie saw as he pulled the cap off and poured a bit directly on the wound, hissing a bit but not making a single movement. Charlie stared at him, not knowing what to do or say. He noticed this, then began talking to her. “My boyfriend is gonna be here soon.” And wasn’t that shocking?
“You’re gay?”
Jason bit out a snort. “Bi. But yeah. I like guys,” he replied.
Charlie opened her mouth to ask more questions, but was interrupted by a thud on the other side of the apartment. She was about to make a run for it before she heard Jason call out with a sarcastic, sing-song voice, “Kyle!” Charlie guessed that was his boyfriend.
Then a man with black hair entered the room, his green eyes showing his true concern while his body tried to say he felt fondly annoyed. It was something Charlie had never seen in a couple.
“Hey, Kid,” Kyle regarded her, then rushed to a small closet, pulling out a first-aid kit. Charlie huffed.
“Why didn’t you tell me ya’ had that?” She accused. “I could’ve been more useful!”
Jason gurgled out, “You don’ need to be useful, Charlie.” She guessed he had just taken a sip of the whiskey.
Charlie scoffed, but watched as Kyle patched Jason up.
It was shocking, how the man was able to remain completely still and decent while his skin was being sewn back together. Charlie knew she would be at the least cringing.
“You gonna tell me what happened?” Charlie demanded. Jason let out a bark of a laugh. Her hard stare didn’t shake, however.
Jason stopped laughing when he saw that concerned glare. “Look, kid,” he said, softer. “It’s okay. This isn’t outta the ordinary for me,” he told her, as though that mattered.
“What’s your ordinary?”
Oh boy. That was a loaded question.
Their relationship grew as Jason visited the safehouse more. Charlie had subtly said she wanted him over more, out of concern. It had turned into less concern and more social visits, which Charlie at first had hated but learned to appreciate. Jason had brought Kyle over on a few occasions.
They were sweet. They had fit together so beautifully that Charlie had almost believed that love was real. That it wasn’t defined by broken plates and screaming matches.
It was two months after Jason and Charlie had first met that Jason asked the question.
“Do you want to live with me and Kyle?”
It shocked her to her core. Not only that they wanted to constantly see her but also that she was good enough for them. That she could be included in their narrative.
She had learned to trust them over the months. They were people Charlie had never met before. They gave her what she needed without question, even when she didn’t directly asked for it. They assured her that she would be okay. Things were okay and she didn’t need to sacrifice herself for money.
She felt safe.
Safe.
Something that hadn’t been in her vocabulary since...well, forever.
Before she could stop herself, she followed her instinct. To be safe. To finally put it in her vocabulary.
“Yes.”
Life went by fast, but it felt bearable for both Jason and Charlie. After enough pokes, Jason had finally told her about his night life.
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!” Charlie screamed, wondering how she ever missed her dad-no, friend being the Red Hood. The Red Hood had looked over her entire neighborhood for years. He was the only reason it hadn’t gotten even worse.
Charlie smacked Jason’s bicep. “Asshole,” she muttered. Jason felt shame surge through his body. Perhaps she was angry? Some of her trust had been broken? “Tell me important shit like that next time!”
Oh.
“You mad?” Jason asked her, his shoulders slumped over and hands fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. He was entering through the window when Charlie had caught him. Her suspicions had already been there, but the fact that in the middle of the night he had entered the apartment with a gun on his hip had brought her to her limit.
Charlie scoffed, feeling tears invade her eyes. Jason stilled, thinking he had caused her to feel worse. That attitude changed when the next few words flew out of her mouth. “You’re my hero. You’ve always been.”
Jason felt his heart seize, because he knew how to read between the lines.
Jason had once said the same thing to Bruce.
She was adopted three months later. Jason didn’t care much for the legal confirmation of their family, but also knew it was important to her future. He was surprised by how quick the process went, but also knew Bruce probably bribed the social workers. Jason couldn’t say he minded much, this time. There was always a benefit to being rich as hell.
Their lives continued to meeting Jason’s semi-family.
Charlie couldn’t help but feel safe when she met them. They were safe. Dick was kind and funny, Tim was sarcastic and smart, Bruce silent and caring, Cass observational and sweet, Damian snarky and secretly compassionate. Their family was...a family. It was never a place to fight, an excuse to drink, a reason to leave.
Charlie was safe.
“Charlie’s gonna appreciate anything, Jaybird,” Kyle told him impatiently. His boyfriend had been running wild across any store he could encounter to find her a perfect birthday gift. She was turning to the ripe age of 13, and he couldn’t disappoint her with her gift. He needed to make her happy and wanted.
Jason huffed through his nose. “I know, dummy,” he snarled, and Kyle snorted at the childish insult. Jason took a deep breath, then continued to search through the clothing racks. “I jus’ need her to feel...good,” he said softly.
Kyle blinked slowly, a love for the man in front of him spreading once again. “She’ll love anything, Jay,” he assured him. “She loves you.” Kyle had said it before, but with much less earnestness.
Jason stopped in his tracks. “You really think so, Babe?” He asked self-consciously.
Kyle nodded enthusiastically with a soft grin, his hair flopping in front of his eyes. “I know so.”Jason turned his head to look back the racks, then seemed to think for a moment. Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. “What?” He asked his boyfriend.
“I figured out what to get her,” Jason responded with a knowing grin.
Charlie thought Jay was more exited for her birthday than herself, but she didn’t mind it. It was more evidence that he truly loved her. Being exited for someone was an indication they loved you, right?
They celebrated her thirteenth birthday with too much cake and sweet mentions of affection. It was safe.
Dick, Tim, Bruce, Damian, Cass, and Babs were all over by Charlie’s request, mostly because these were pretty much the only people she knew besides Jay and Kyle. The streets didn’t give many opportunities of friends.
She had just blown out her candles, and had actually convinced Bruce to break his strict diet and eat a small piece of cake.
“Present time!” Kyle yelled out. She saw Jason roll his eyes at the corner of her eye.
They had all given her artificial things, although she did still appreciate them. They were still of great value even though they were things she could buy anytime, because they were from her new family.
It felt nice saying that.
Family.
“Open what Jay got you!” Dick interjected excitedly, his piece of cake almost flying off his plate.
Charlie giggled under his breath as Kyle handed her his gift. She felt her heart swell with something she hadn’t felt in years. It was like something had clicked into place. It was like something had shifted in her world, the puzzle piece finally clicked in to fitting with the others. Maybe it was due to her age, but Charlie thinks it’s from a love she hadn’t felt before. This was home.
She tore open the wrapping paper, excitement bubbling under her chest and love rising to her throat.
Charlie stilled when she saw the packaging. It was something she’d seen with bragging kids on the street, when they had stolen it and surprisingly gotten away with it.
“You got me a phone?” She asked tearily, holding up the packaging as a confirmation. Jason smiled and nodded.
This was more than a phone. It was symbol that he trusted her to have some sort of independence. Something that was uniquely hers, that he couldn’t take away.
Charlie got up, putting the phone on the floor, then ran up to embrace Jason. He returned the hug with a teary smile, and just before she pulled away from his embrace she whispered in his ear:
“I love you.”
Jason couldn’t express in words how much he felt the same way.