Chapter Text
Jason has almost never left Gotham.
Well, there was that short stint in Ethiopia. Doesn't exactly fill him with the urge to try leaving again. Then of course his stay with the League.
This city is... more than part of him. He's got the irrational fear that if he steps foot outside Gotham with the intent of staying out, he'll just drop dead again. Like only Gotham air is safe for him to breathe. But there's a split second he has when he stops moving for just a second, stops dead and just stares at a crack in the brick wall of the alley by Reeves that people store their drugs in. As soon as he stops, he knows with absolutely certainty that he can't be here anymore.
But where to go?
More importantly, how to go? He might operate alone, but he's essentially connected to this city through his veins. He is a fact of the place. If he leaves, the underworld will shift. He'll have no say in how. Crime itself will change. His connections will scramble. Who will look out for the working girls? Hannah's just about to give birth. And the homeless? He's known them since he was too short to scope out marks through shop windows. They're half the reason he can read. And those goddamned Bats won't be happy to have him out of their jurisdiction.
That might be priority one. He does not want to be found. This is kind of like going on a gap year, he thinks. What do people usually do when they go on gap years? They go tour Europe or some shit, right? Go wherever they've always wanted to go. Where does Jason want to go?
Funnily enough, somewhere does jump to mind. Metropolis.
Metropolis isn't so simple as 'the inverse of Gotham', but it sure as fuck ain't Gotham. It's a huge city, a bright, busy city. He only ever really saw it as 'that place across the bay' until Clark came into the picture. That guy... Jason has a lot of respect for him. Obviously, he did his research, but that was just common sense. What the others, who definitely did the same research, often failed to tap into is vibes. Like, what vibe does someone give you? What does your gut say? Those are the kind of street smarts that were keeping Jason alive before he could talk, and they're still a massive part of his operation. The old man was always above stupid things like that.
Well, Clark Kent intrigued Jason from day one. First of all, he's an alien. Jason doesn't take this lightly. It means he has to fight a losing war to get people to trust him- and he fights it so well that people forget. But that shit ain't no small thing. He remembers Ly, a trans guy on the streets, relating his circumstances to Superman's- he said he felt like he was an alien. An outsider. Ly said he had a lot of respect for Superman, who's not just trying to get his friends or family to accept that, but the whole world.
Second of all, does anyone even realise how much effort you have to put into a secret identity when your cover is glasses? Because it's not just glasses, not by a long shot. Clark basically lives his entire life undercover. Jason's no stranger to undercover ops, and that shit is impressive. Not to mention, playing meek and average when you're the size of a tractor? How does he do that?
Third, Jason reads his work. Clark is an incredible writer, and having the advantage of looking at it from all the different lenses Jason knows the guy through that no one else does, it's about twelve times more impressive. In Clark's articles, he can see Superman's motives, uncle Clark's tongue in cheek suggestion, and Kent from the Planet's genuine passion and bumbling incompetence. That man's a fucking inspiration.
Metropolis is Clark's Gotham. He wants to see the place that's worth that kind of dedication. He wants to know the place that's deserving of both Superman and Clark Kent.
Best part? No one would ever look for him there. They'd guess he was back in Africa before they checked Metropolis.
He'll have to be careful about this. One fuck up and he's back on the Bat's radar. And he can't leave his city out to dry.
Jason cherry picks the very, very few who need to know. Roy is first. He wraps up his open cases. He does some extra cleanup to allow for the adjustment period after he goes- a parting gift to remind his enemies they're not safe. He clears out his safehouses- he'll keep them on standby. Last thing's last. Goodbyes.
Jacob's face lights up as it always does when he hears the shuffling Jason does to announce his arrival. Old coot was always scary good at that, but he may or may not keep his approach consistent to make it easier.
"Jason!", he calls out delightedly, pointing a crooked finger in his general direction. Jason chuckles.
"Got me again. You got some radar ears you ain't tell me about? Echolocation?"
"Ecko-huh?"
Jason drops himself down against the wall of the bank Jacob's living outside this week with a loud sigh.
The old man taps his grimy nose with a grimier finger and a crooked grin to match. "Can't fool these ears."
"One day I'll get you," Jason grumbles dismissively, waving his hand even though Jacob can't see it.
"No you won't," he sings happily. "So, tell me boy. How goes you's?"
"Ahh, you know. I ain't in no more trouble than usual."
Jacob wheezes out a dusty laugh through what's left of his teeth. "That's my boy." He sobers up quickly enough to give a guy whiplash. "Don't you be slacking' now. Don't let 'em catch you tripping'. You get your fingers in them pies, but you take care o' bidness. Ah?"
"Always. No one slippin' here, grandpa."
"Heehee, not 'ere neither," he cackles. "I know my shit, sonny."
"And yet I still beat your ass at hopscotch every time."
"I lost my leg you-" Jacob wheezes another laugh while he tries to take a swing at Jason with his crutch.
"I thought you wasn't slippin'."
"Smart-ass," the blind man huffs as he gives up.
Jason lights up a smoke, takes a deep breath of it, and hands it over. Jacob takes to it with a fond and grateful expression.
"Ahhhhh," he breathes out after his initial drag. "That's good." He leans his head back against the bricks and takes another. "You's a good boy fo' that. Still bringing' an old man 'is medicine."
Jason hangs his head between his legs. Counts the syringes lying in the gutter.
"Imma... you won't be seein' me for a bit."
"Thought you said you wasn't in trouble."
Jason shakes his head at the ground. "'M not."
"You takin' care of bidness?"
No. "Yeah."
"That's good. You handle them pies. Don't let nobody catch you out, Jayboy."
"Mhm." Jason stands up beside him. He pulls a full pack of cigs out of his jacket pocket and tosses them at the man, who startles a bit, but is immediately enraptured with his prize. He shoots Jason a huge toothy grin, or he would if he knew where he was.
"Well, look at that! That's a whole pack! What are we celebratin'?"
"Ahh, ask me no secrets and I'll tell you no lies. You keep 'em." Jason kicks his foot light with the toe of his boot. Very lightly. They're steel-toe.
"No shit?"
"Yeah."
Jacob gives him a very happy face. Or, he gives the air one. Jason's not there anymore.
"You always was my favourite."
Jason drops by the girls next. He usually does his rounds of their shack-up, follow their normal business routes by rooftop. He goes straight in through the back way today. It's faded into the alleyway, but you can find it if you know where it is. It's for girls who are in trouble, quick exits, and friends. Can't have too many exit strategies in this neighbourhood, especially not in this business.
The girls aren't going out tonight. They're laying low while the last dregs of the gang war breeze over, but they can't stay in for long, so really Jason's here for two things.
He moves through the decrepit place easily, and he finds Ma quickly. She's sort of the ring leader of this consort, a woman who looks like she'd be naturally plump if she ate enough to be.
"Hey, Ma."
She turns her dark grey eyes on him. "Hola, papi. You got news, or just visiting?"
"Bit o' both. How's Hannah?"
The woman sighs in a practiced way. She reminds Jason of Alfred in a strange, foreign way. She's a street girl through and through, though. She seems far too old and far too young.
"Girl's doin' fine. That's one tough chica. Kid's comin' any day now."
"Rosie?"
She purses her lips and hums. "She's not ready. Pregnancy seems okay, but she ain't takin' it well."
"She is pretty young."
"There's been younger. Wait here, I'll get your girls."
Ma disappears up the stairs. She won't get all of them, they're never all in no matter what's going on, but whoever's there when he shows up will make sure his visit spreads like wildfire through the ranks. Hannah's in more than the others lately, since she's due soon. Rosie isn't far enough along for house arrest, and Ma probably couldn't keep her in if she tried. She might make a little more when she starts to show, some customers are into that.
It's Tilly and Hannah that end up coming down with Ma. Tilly's got her hair in a bun. Hannah hasn't shaved her head like she usually does in long enough that it's started to grow. It's strange to see Hannah without her huge hoop earrings. She looks tired. Ma tries to help her down the stairs, but she waves her off, eyes as sharp and assessing as ever.
"Hey chicas."
"Hey," Tilly says inclining her head in greeting. Hannah gives him a nod.
"How's it looking' out there?", she asks.
He shrugs. "Nothin' out of usual. Think it's winding down. I hit them a little harder this week, should put this to bed sooner. Only people still startin' shit are small fry. It'll sizzle out. I got you covered til then." He hands Ma a wad of cash, which she takes and starts counting.
"How're you?", he asks, jutting his chin at Hannah.
"Fine. Bit sick of bein' blimp sized. Don't fit in my heels no more."
"First is always the worst one, baby," Tilly croons at her.
"I'll live."
Jason knows she will. Probably.
"You got cravings?"
"Yeah. Cigarettes."
Jason chuckles and shakes his head. "Not lettuce? Shrimp?"
"Shrimp?"
"Yeah, shrimp."
"Fuck I look like? I ain't never had shrimp. How'm'I gon crave somethin' I ain't never had?"
"Some girls crave dirt, you know."
"Nah," Tilly says incredulously.
"Yeah."
"And you, Tilly?"
"'M almost healed up now. Some fellas like a bruise or two, but it makes some wanna add more. I'll be glad to be rid of 'em."
Jason nods, pulling something else out of his pocket. A piece of paper.
"I came for somethin' else. I made sure this bullshit on the streets ain't gonna bother you, and I beat a little extra ass so you can breathe for a bit. Good measure and all that, before I go."
"Go?", Ma asks sharply head snapping up from the bills.
"Mhm. I'm going. I'll be back, but I don't know when. I ain't leavin' you open though. I got someone to cover you. Someone good. You can trust her."
"Trust her?", Ma demands, clearly trying to keep the distinctly distrusting edge out of her voice.
Despite knowing it might not mean much to people who have been abandoned by whatever family they may have had, he tries. "She's my sister."
Tilly whistles. Hannah's eyebrow shoot up on her face.
"Shit, Red, I ain't knew you had a sister," she drawls.
"Yeah, and she's good. She'll watch your six. This," he holds up the slip of paper, "is just in case." He hands it to Ma. "You won't need it, but you got it. I'll answer." And he'll be in Metropolis, but he can get Clark to fly him over.
"This about somethin' we should know?", Tilly asks hesitantly. Knowledge is power in Gotham.
Jason shakes his head and pushes himself up off the counter. "Nah, just wanted to check in on ya, give you a heads up."
Hannah nods and blinks slowly. Ma follows her lead.
"Thanks, Red."
He grunts and moves back for the exit. Ma gives him a pat on the shoulder as he goes.
Finally, the kids.
Jason finds Frankie jacking some tyres. Jason waits for him to finish his job before he comes forward.
"Hey, kid."
Frankie's head snaps up, eyes narrow, then wide in another second. "Hood!"
"'Sup?"
Frankie gestures halfheartedly at the tyres. Jason nods.
"Try cranking with one arm while you hold the other flat against the rim. They'll come off faster."
Frankie nods. His matted curls bounce around with the motion, and Jason absently wonders what colour they'd be if they were clean.
"Anyway, I got a message for ya to spread. Ears open?" Another nod. "I'm dipping for a bit. You still got backup, but it won't be me for a bit. Tell the others."
Frankie's eyes go impossibly wider behind his bangs. He dashes forward to him, arms up in surprise. "Are you serious?"
"Mhm. I dealt with Jackie Fish, so you're good to go by the docks again. Katy still sick?"
"Y-yeah."
"You gotta be careful with that one." He hands Frankie another slip of paper. "This is a garage, got warmth an' everything. Don't go spreadin' that around, mind, but it should help her temperature."
"A g-garage? A whole one? Whose?"
"Mine." Jason clicks his tongue to dismiss him, ruffling his hair as he does.
"Thank you!", he hears Frankie call behind him.
With his shit wrapped up, he leaves his city for the third time in his life.