Chapter Text
Location: Redwing Mechanics – Upstairs Apartment, 2:13 AM
Cory woke instantly.
Boots on metal.
Her eyes snapped open, heart lurching—not from panic, but from familiarity. She knew that gait, the rhythm of heavy footsteps, the faint hitch in breath. She knew the exact creak of that window when it opened.
Jason.
In a heartbeat, her glasses were on, desk lamp flicked softly, casting the room in gentle gold. Augustine leapt off the bed gracefully, ears swiveling, tail twitching cautiously as he paced toward the window.
A moment later, the frame slid open roughly. Jason stumbled through, breath ragged, gripping the sill with bloodied gloves. His red helmet clattered onto the floor, bouncing once before rolling slowly to a stop against the wall.
Cory grimaced at the sight of him.
Busted lip. A swelling bruise beneath one eye. Blood smeared down his jaw, dried into angry trails. Rage radiated off him like steam rising from rain-soaked pavement.
“Jason—”
“I’m fine,” he growled, voice rough and defensive, cutting her off instantly.
But the moment he tried to step forward, his legs buckled beneath him, and he sank heavily onto the edge of her bed, shoulders slumping. His breath hitched painfully, betraying exhaustion beneath his stubborn defiance.
“You’re not fine,” she murmured, already moving swiftly to the drawer beneath her cluttered workbench. Her hands steadied themselves, but her heartbeat raced painfully in her chest. She forced calm into every movement as she knelt before him, medical kit in hand. “Don’t lie to me.”
Jason scowled but didn’t argue further. He allowed her careful fingers to unzip his battered jacket, wincing slightly as the motion jarred bruised ribs. His jaw remained clenched, eyes fixed stubbornly away from hers.
“What happened?” Cory asked softly, pressing a gentle antiseptic-soaked cloth against the deep scrape along his jawline. Her touch was feather-light, careful and deliberate, familiar enough to ease even his fierce defensiveness.
He hissed softly, eyes narrowing briefly, then let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Batman,” he spat the word out harshly, like a curse. “Got in my way. Again.”
The bitterness cracked in his voice, revealing a raw ache underneath—frustration, resentment, pain. Cory paused briefly, meeting his eyes, searching quietly for the truth hidden beneath layers of anger.
“You need to stop doing this,” she said carefully. It wasn’t pleading—it was a blunt observation, direct and unflinching. She dabbed away another streak of dried blood from his lip.
He snorted, pulling back slightly. “Doing what? Stepping up where he won’t?”
“No,” she corrected firmly, her voice gentle but unyielding. “Hurting yourself to hurt him back. It’s not working, Jay.”
Jason recoiled sharply at the truth in her words, eyes blazing defensively. “You don’t get it. He buried me. He moved on like I never existed. He replaced me . Now I’m some mistake he needs to clean up, some villain he has to box and shelve.”
Her expression softened. “Jason, you’re not—”
“I’m tired of being his ghost!” Jason snapped, voice cracking painfully. “I’m tired of chasing someone who left me buried in the ground.”
The room fell abruptly silent, heavy with grief and anger.
Cory slowly set the bloodied cloth down, exhaled deeply, then reached out, gently taking his hands into hers—hands still trembling beneath bloodied gloves. She squeezed gently, refusing to let go even when he tensed.
“Whatever you’re planning,” she whispered softly, her voice shaking slightly, “don’t do it.”
He didn’t respond, staring instead at their intertwined hands.
Her voice sharpened, just slightly. “Jason, what did you do?”
He exhaled raggedly through clenched teeth. “Nothing. Yet.”
“But you’re going to.”
His eyes shifted away from her again, voice lowered in bitter determination. “I have to. He needs to see me. He needs to face what he let happen. He needs to choose. ”
Her stomach dropped, voice barely audible. “Or what?”
His jaw tightened, expression closing off. “Or he proves I never mattered.”
Cory’s breath caught, her fingers gripping his tighter. She closed her eyes briefly, composing herself before opening them again, gaze steady.
“You always mattered, Jason,” she said carefully. “Always. Even though Bruce is too much of an ass to love you the way you needed. You’re hurting, and you want him to hurt too—but you want him to love you again, to fix this, and… this isn’t the way.”
Jason yanked his hands from hers abruptly, rising shakily to his feet. “Then what do you want from me, Cory? Sit down politely and ask for closure?”
“Maybe,” she shot back evenly, standing too, refusing to let him intimidate her into silence. “Maybe you have to try honesty before revenge.”
Jason laughed bitterly, pacing restlessly. “Yeah, that’ll fix things. ‘Hey Bruce, here’s my trauma gift-wrapped, let’s have tea.’”
“Not tea,” she said quietly, stepping into his path deliberately, stopping him. “But maybe the truth.”
Jason froze, forced to look at her, eyes raw and vulnerable beneath the lingering anger.
“Tell him who you are,” she pressed firmly. “Tell him you’re Jason. Not Red Hood, not some ghost he can brush away. You. ”
“And then what?” he demanded hoarsely, voice breaking softly. “Watch him turn his back again? Let him lock me up next to— next to that damn clown? ”
Cory inhaled sharply, recognizing instantly the terror behind Jason’s words—the image he couldn’t shake, the fear he rarely voiced aloud. She stepped closer, reaching out to gently steady his trembling arm, her touch firm yet comforting.
“Jason,” she murmured quietly, “Bruce is many things—but do you honestly think he'd ever put you near him? ”
Jason’s eyes flared defensively, but she didn't falter.
“I won’t let him do that to you,” she said fiercely, conviction shining in her eyes. “You’re not the Joker. You’re not some criminal to be locked up and forgotten. If Bruce tries—if anyone tries—they’ll have to get through me first.”
His eyes widened slightly, startled by her unwavering loyalty, the fierce protectiveness in her voice. Slowly, he exhaled, the fire flickering in his expression, replaced by quiet exhaustion.
“You can’t stop everything, Cory,” he whispered, voice cracking with vulnerability. “Not forever.”
“No,” she admitted softly, her hand tightening gently on his sleeve, “but I can fight for you. And if I have to, I’ll tear Gotham apart before I let them cage you.”
Jason swallowed thickly, stunned speechless by the sheer intensity of her words—by her willingness to stand by him, no matter the risk. His eyes faltered, the rage beginning to crumble beneath quiet desperation. He flinched slightly when Augustine gently brushed against his ankles, the cat’s steady purr filling the fragile silence.
Jason exhaled slowly, shakily, voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to be him anymore.”
Cory stepped closer still, fearless, reaching up to touch his bruised cheek gently, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You don’t have to be. You don’t owe anyone that kid who died. And maybe he’ll turn away, but at least it’ll be the truth, and you can stop bleeding for someone who won’t look you in the eye.”
Something in his expression broke softly, surrendering quietly to the honesty in her eyes. Slowly, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, tension draining from his muscles, hands falling limply to his sides.
His whisper was achingly vulnerable. “I’m scared.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I know. But I’m here.”
Jason’s breath shuddered softly, the fight finally leaving him. This time when she carefully wrapped her arms around him, he didn’t flinch or pull away. He accepted it, leaning into her touch as though it was the only thing holding him upright.
For several long, quiet moments, they stood like that, Cory’s hand gently rubbing soothing circles against his trembling back, Augustine purring softly at their feet, a quiet anchor of warmth and reassurance.
When Jason finally spoke again, his voice was softer. Exhausted. Resigned.
“One conversation,” he murmured softly, almost defeated. “I’ll try.”
Cory exhaled in relief, pressing her hand gently against his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper:
“That’s all I’m asking.”
And standing there, held together by quiet strength and shared grief, Cory hoped fiercely that just one honest conversation might finally begin to heal the raw, bleeding wound Batman had left in Jason’s soul.