Chapter Text
I. YOU
Gotham really does look different at night.
Darker of course, even with lights and billboards adorning every corner, serving as illumination for the slimy creatures of vice and corruption as they slither just below the surface. Though from up here you can't really see it, the greed and cruelty that run these streets. Up here it's just another sprawling landscape of glass and concrete. A city you once dedicated yourself to protecting.
A lot of things have changed since then. You left, and you wouldn't have predicted you'd be returning to attend your former mentor's wedding, but you knew you could never stray too long from the place you considered your home. It was just one of the things about you that remained unchanged as time passed.
The thought prompts you to glance over at your companion.
Jason Todd. Kindred souls, the two of you. Swallowed whole by Gotham's unforgiving malevolence, you spent your childhood together trying to keep it at bay. But what has the city ever given you in return for your steadfast service?
Your gaze settles on the buildings towering above you, at the lights reflected on the windows. Gotham. Vile. Bright.
Home.
It's spectacular. Almost beautiful, in a twisted sort of way.
Jason mutters something under his breath, as if in response to your thoughts, and you make out the word 'pathetic'. You rise, intent on figuring out what he's referring to.
Momentarily putting your musings on hold, you stride over to where he stands, staring down at the alley below with his leather-clad arms crossed. You crane your head to see what he's looking at. Yards away, a couple of hoodlums close in on someone foolish enough to walk around this area alone. Squinting, you study their identical blue outfits, wondering if they were up to something more serious than a typical Gotham mugging.
A visiting gang of crooks, perhaps? Coming to try their luck in a new market? Well, they couldn't have chosen a worse time to debut.
For some reason, Jason's just standing there, so you cluck your tongue and reach for your grapple gun. "Stay here. I'll go down there, see what's going on?"
"Go for it."
As you swing to the nearest building, you hear his voice through comms asking Barbara to check on something.
"Red Robin and Spoiler are already on it," She says, then continues after a short pause. "Looks like it's a quiet night for us, team. You guys can start heading home to prep for the gala."
"Copy. We'll be done in a sec," Stephanie replies, then snickers as she admonishes Tim. "He's laughing. The poor guard's been knocked unconscious and he's laughing."
"It's Gotham," Tim cuts in, thoroughly amused. "It would probably be more of a shock if the bank wasn't attacked. But those weird-ass masks though-"
The two of them dissolve into fits of laughter and you hear Barbara join in. Their exchange makes you smile, and it stays on your face as you descend, pebbles skidding across the asphalt when you land. The victim scrambles backward as you plant yourself between him and his attackers, poised to defend him from any incoming attacks.
"Yo." You raise a gloved hand. "Mind telling me what's going on here?"
"The hell? Get out of here!" A thug snarls. "Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"
Truly, it's been a while since you've done vigilante work in Gotham and the thug's words are making it harder for you to ignore your budding embarrassment. Focusing on the task at hand, your eyes zero in on their posture, position, and the items in their clutches. The incautious, though pitiful citizen trembles behind you.
"Just a regular mugging, I see." You surmise, holding out your palm. "Hand that over."
They refuse.
As you deal with the situation before you, the others keep their comm lines open, chatting listlessly as they finish up patrol. When you tune back in to listen, you notice they've moved on to a new topic entirely.
"They're rushing things," Stephanie groans, and if you listen closely, you could hear the wind whistling in the background. "Isn't two weeks from now too soon?"
"On the contrary," Damian argued, the last person you expected to hear from. "Too many things could go wrong before then. It would be wise for Father to get it done as soon as he can."
Ah. They're talking about Bruce's wedding.
Before anyone else could put in their two cents, Barbara interposed, "Hey guys, I'm leaving in a few. Crow, I've sent Gotham PD your location. Red Hood, I looked up that address and sent you the info you requested. Your suspicions are right."
"Those damn bastards. Thanks, though."
"Yeah, Oracle. Thanks." You parrot. As you do so, the person you just saved accidentally sends a can clattering and it hits your foot.
"No problem. See you at the party, everyone. Oracle, out."
"Are you alright?" You ask, gathering his possessions and handing them to him. "What's your name?"
He hesitates. "You can call me Marcus...? Thank you so, so much, I didn't think- I don't know what would've happened if you weren't here."
"Glad I could help. But please be more careful next time," You stress, gesturing at the unconscious crooks on the ground. "I'm guessing you just moved here? This place may seem alright during the day, but as you now know, it's a different story when night falls. You got lucky."
"Yes, thanks again." Marcus bows, an awkward, ducking gesture. "I'll go straight home."
Taking a step forward, you offer, "I can go with you if you want."
Marcus shakes his head, pointing at a two-story structure half a block away. "I'll be safe, I think. That's where I live."
You figure he'd be exceptionally unlucky to get mugged twice tonight, so you concede. "Okay. Take care, Marcus."
He leaves and you watch him scurry away until he reaches his home unharmed. Knowing you were able to help him get home safely, a sense of satisfaction fills you, easing the tension in your shoulders and lightening your steps.
It vanishes abruptly when you notice something feels off.
Your head swivels to look up at the building you came from, eyes narrowing as you note the lack of a certain red helmet peeking out from the building's ledge.
Noooo.
You should've known.
It's a thing you used to do back in the day when some nights were too dull for your hyperactive young minds. Sneaking up on the other, undetected and unseen. A silly test to "see who's better".
Pivoting to face the defeated would-be muggers, you groaned, a little exasperated, a little apologetic, "You know you didn't have to wait for me."
"Yes, you're welcome," Jason replies, sitting on the fire escape stairwell above their heads. He's swinging his legs languidly and with a final kick, jumps off, landing with far more grace than you had earlier. "Didn't notice I was there? You must be losing your touch."
You'd never admit your senses were getting dull. Jason was just too good.
You'd never admit that either.
"Nope, I knew." You lie, then to the rest of the team, "I'm done here. Crow, out."
"Us too. See ya!" Steph chirps.
The line goes silent and sirens fill in as background noise. They're close.
Jason starts walking away and you jog to catch up with him after retrieving some of your equipment. As you adapt to his pace, he asks, "Working on a case after this?"
You choose to withhold your answer for a while, thinking.
It was a weakness of yours, this aversion to gatherings like the charity gala held tonight and Jason was one of the few people in the world who knew about it. You learned to ignore it over the years, but you'd still avoid these events if you could. It was just one of those things that stem from a core part of you, something that would never really go away.
Now, Jason must be thinking you'd steer clear of tonight's gala, as you had often done so in the past.
Clearing your throat, you finally answer, "No, I'm attending the event. With you guys."
He falls silent and you can see his surprise, even though he's behind you now, even through the helmet, and it chips at your resolve a little. "Or... maybe I'll just stay home? Yeah, I've got stuff to do. I'm staying in, tell them-"
"You're coming?" Jason interrupts, in a gentle tone that inexplicably makes you want to hug him, at the same time knock his front teeth out. "Good, 'cause I need a ride. Mind picking me up at eight?"
You weren't expecting that, so you retort, "I do mind, actually."
"Okay." He surges forward to shove you lightly, but you see it coming a mile away and sidestep him, snickering as he stumbles forward. Of course, with Jason being Jason, he manages to right himself and doesn't fall flat on his face.
"Yeah, 'm just kidding, Jay. Be ready by seven-thirty."
Of course, you do know why he's doing this.
So you arrive at his apartment on time, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel to calm your nerves. He's trying to be here for you, and you appreciate it. You vow you wouldn't let him down and doing so brings you back to a particular memory, one whose effects include your current situation.
You had just turned eleven, weeks after you lost your entire family. Hoping it would lift your spirits, someone decided to hold a party to celebrate. You don't remember much of what happened, but being there, among people, must've made you feel like your skin was crawling off your body. Your injuries were still healing-you must've been terrified someone, anyone in that crowd could've come at you with a knife and finished the job. Something did happen, or possibly you just caved into your fears, because you clearly recall sobbing as you ran to the one place you felt safe. When your mind had cleared, you thought you'd be staying in that room forever. Then hours later, a boy you barely knew managed to convince you to leave, and even back then, the smile he gave you when you finally did could rival the moon's glow.
It was Jason then, it was Jason now.
To your dismay, reminiscing seems to fuel the apprehension in your chest and you try to calm yourself down. There's no reason to feel so uneasy. It's just one of the charity events Bruce hosts. With some of the most notable Gothamites in attendance tonight, it wasn't like anything could possibly go wrong, your brain supplies unhelpfully.
Giving up, you sigh and twist the key, and the car stills to blessed silence. Pulling out your phone, you text your old mentor, Hope you saved a seat for me before you lose your nerve. Bruce's reply comes uncharacteristically quick. Of course.
The clock reads 7:27 and you're wondering if your resolve can last any longer. Fortunately, Jason steps out less than a minute later and you unlock the passenger-side door, greeting him as he enters.
"Looking good, Todd."
And he does, his attire incredibly flattering for something you rarely saw him in. Even in the dark, there's a captivating look about him. For a second there, you forget your worries, momentarily mesmerized.
It suits him. Ha. It suits him.
He grins at your compliment. "I aim to please."
"Right." You're about to start the car when you spot something out of place.
Oops, not so flawless after all. You think, and before you could speculate if that was a mistake or intended (probably intended), you reach for it, closing the distance between the two of you as you lean over the center console.
"Tie's loose." You murmur, failing to notice the way he holds his breath as you catch him off-guard. With deft fingers, you fix it in no time. "There you go. Perfect."
The fabric of his shirt shifts as you move away, falling as Jason exhales. "Um. Thanks."
"Mhm," You hum noncommittally as the vehicle purrs to life. Beside you, Jason seems to have taken interest in the view outside the window. "Off we go."
Neither of you attempt to fill the silence with music or conversation, so the first few minutes of the drive to Wayne Manor prove to be enough time for your agitation to make a comeback. You try to keep your mind clear and spirit calm, but your stomach twists further and you're finding it harder to concentrate on anything else.
You swallow, mentally chanting nothing will happen, nothing will happen, nothing will happen like a mantra until Jason interrupts your thoughts for the second time this evening.
"Thinking about the party?"
"Yeah, I'm... " You stall, taking a hand off the wheel to scratch at your neck. "I haven't been to these things in a long time."
"It'll be fun," He promises, then a grimace settles on his features. "Actually, no. It'll be boring as hell."
"Man, I hope not."
"We'll leave if the food sucks."
You slow to assimilate into the mass of vehicles crawling along and a beat of silence passes.
"So..." Jason starts again. "Roy taught me this game."
You keep your eyes on the road. "What game?"
Through your peripheral vision, you see him lean back against his chair. "Or maybe I read about it? Anyway, in the game, you imagine the lives of random people around you."
You grasp at his distraction gratefully. "Alright, let's play then."
Jutting his chin at the Vios beside you, he guesses, "Accountant. Married. He's been out of town and now he's driving home."
Through the untinted windows, you see a balding old man, nodding along to a song you can't hear. You stare intently. A band of gold gleams on his finger and brown mud coats his tires and doors. You know for a fact it's been a while since it last rained here in Gotham.
"Nice. My turn," You say, getting the gist of the game as you focus on the woman on your right. "So..."
The rest of the conversation blurs in your memory, but when you look back, you know the drive was more bearable than it would've been if you went alone.