Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Jason ever meets her, he’s in the Gotham City Cemetery visiting the grave of Jason Peter Todd and contemplating his mission to find and kill the Joker. Not many people come to the cemetery in Gotham—outside of the few brave souls who pay respects and the occasional group of errant youths sneaking in to smoke pot. But most kids have better hangouts, and even they respect Gotham’s strange mysticism too much to risk disturbing the dead. So Jason is usually alone when he comes here.

It’s the main reason he finds himself at his own empty grave so often—it’s quiet here. Peaceful, in a way nowhere else in Gotham can really be called. He comes here to think. It’s technically his space anyway—his resting place, if not the final one—so it feels fitting, if macabre.

He’s been there maybe ten minutes when he sees her. Another row off, kneeling by a grave with her phone. She pauses, taps at the screen, then moves on to the next headstone, repeating the process a few more times.

Jason narrows his eyes. She’s pretty—distractingly so—dressed in a long-sleeved dress and leggings against the early autumn chill as she does whatever it is she’s doing in a cemetery. Taking pictures of graves? He’s not sure.

She gets closer, and he debates whether to call her out or just lie down on the grass six feet above his own grave and see if she finds him there.

But he’s mouthy — and of course he goes with the first option.

“Audience doesn’t get more captive than the dead, sweetheart.” Yeah, he’s an idiot. But it’s already out, and too late to take it back now.

She jumps a little at the sound of his voice and turns toward him. The surprise fades faster than Jason thinks is healthy for any self-preserving Gothamite, replaced by a friendly smirk.

“I’m taking pictures of all the graves. You know. For science.”

She holds up her phone like that explains everything, smiling — bright and unabashed, like nothing about this is strange. Like photographing graves is a perfectly normal thing to do. Like any of that actually explains what she’s doing here (it doesn’t).

“Uh huh.” The skepticism in his voice could cut glass.

Because really — what kind of job is that? Who’s paying her to do it? Why would anyone want her to? And why the hell is she so cheerful about it?

Her expression shifts, eyes narrowing like she’s finally seeing him. Analyzing him. Jason fights the instinct to fidget under her gaze because — there’s something weird about this girl. She’s… cheerful. Not in a creepy way — worse. In a real way. Genuine. Unapologetic. And somehow, in Gotham, that’s way more unsettling.

And she’s still smiling — all the way up to her eyes.

Jason doesn’t know what to do with it, so he looks away.

“Are you reading a book?” she asks, taking another step closer. She leans—too comfortably—against his headstone, eyes catching on the paperback in his hands.

Yeah, so he’s got a beat-up copy of The Count of Monte Cristo propped open on his lap. It’s one of his favorites.

He holds the book up a little. “Monte Cristo,” he says simply, his eyes daring her to judge him. It’s a masterpiece. Not even a girlie book. And sure, Dick makes fun of him for it—but hell if he’s letting this pretty stranger do the same.

But instead, something unexpected happens.

Her eyes light up. A soft, delighted smile curls at her lips, and Jason swears his heart just stops.

“You know,” she says, almost shyly, “my mom named me after Mercedes. From that book.”

He just blinks at her. Is this girl for real?

“Bullshit.”

And then—she laughs.

And it’s like the frost in his chest melts, the shadows clinging to the edges of Gotham scatter, and for a split second, the world feels… lighter. Brighter.

She’s sunshine in a city that doesn’t get any, her cheeks flushed just a little from the chill, her eyes warm and sincere as she looks at him—really looks at him. Like he’s just a guy.

Even though they’re talking over his goddamn headstone. In a cemetery. At dusk. In Gotham.

And somehow, that makes her feel even more unreal.

“No, really. She did. I’m Sadie.”

And she just waits. Like he’s supposed to say something. Like he’s not a broken fuck-up. Like he’s worth talking to.

He feels blown wide open. He should go. He should say anything.

“Well, ain’t that a fuckin’ coincidence.” Anything but that. Fuck, he’s an idiot.

She only shakes her head, a faint laugh under her breath, and comes around the side of the headstone—like they’re friends or something. Then she sits down next to him, close enough he can feel the warmth radiating from her in the cool air.

She reaches for the book, a question in her eyes.

“Can I?”

He hesitates, then hands it to her.

“You know,” she says softly, flipping through the pages, “one of my favorite lines is in chapter twenty… let me just find it…”

Jason watches her. She’s so close. Her hands move with such confidence, like she’s done this a hundred times. Like she’s flipping through him.

When she says chapter twenty, his stomach tightens. There’s no way. She can’t possibly—

But then she makes that quiet little hum of pleased surprise, and glances up at him, something knowing shining in her eyes.

“Looks like you like this part too…”

The world stops. His pulse is loud in his ears.

And when she speaks again, her voice is calm and sincere, carrying the kind of weight he hasn’t felt in years—maybe ever.

“He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness.”

Her eyes lift to his as she finishes, and before he can even breathe, she keeps going—her tone shifting to something reverent, words older than time, familiar and foreign all at once.

“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.”

The words cut straight through him — cold, clean, like a blade he didn’t see coming. He feels caught — seen. The shadow of death.

He can’t breathe. Can’t move. He just stares at her — at those bright, unflinching eyes — and feels everything he’s buried clawing its way back up. Upon them hath the light shined.

When he finally drags in a breath, it’s shaky. He blinks, swallows hard. He feels wrecked and he doesn’t even know why. A’int no fuckin’ light in his life, that’s for damn sure.

He’s bleeding out, cracked open by a stranger — a woman who appeared from nowhere, smiled like nobody in Gotham does, sat beside him like he deserved it, took his favorite book, and somehow picked the one line that lives inside his bones.

Yeah. Unreal. Maybe Ivy has something growing here?

“What was that other thing you said?” His voice comes out rougher than he wants, like gravel dragged over concrete. He clears his throat, tries again, but the vulnerability is already there. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to him.

She doesn’t seem to notice. Her eyes are soft, thoughtful. She leans back against the headstone, the picture of calm, and hands him his book.

“Bible verse,” she says with a small shrug. “That part always reminds me of it. Prophecies and stuff. Book of Isaiah’s full of them.”

She smiles easily, no judgment in her face. Just warmth. Like this is small talk for her.

Jason blinks. Bible. Isaiah. Prophecies. He’s got no clue. Not religious, never has been.  He’s only ever skimmed a few verses from borrowed bibles when he was a kid.

“Huh.” He clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck. “You a church girl or somethin’?”

She crinkles her nose in amusement and chuckles – fuck – it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen and there’s something deep in him that wants to reach out and pull her her closer — like some instinct that doesn’t understand what softness even is anymore — and he has to hold himself back.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that. Church every Sunday my whole life and then a Christian University. So…” She shrugs a little but Jason’s eyes are bugging out.

“Oh, fuck — and here I’ve been swearing this whole time — damn, I mean— fuck— shit— I mean—!”

She just laughs, shaking her head at him. “It’s okay, really. God’s heard worse.”

He gives her an incredulous look and lets out a huff. He looks away, shakes his head, trying to process just how weird this is. Looks back—yep. Still there. Still real.

“Dick didn’t put you up to this, did he?”

Her eyes fill with knowing mirth, a smirk creeping in the most unfairly attractive way onto her lips. “That your brother or something?” Why does he want to kiss that look off her face? He’s not usually this affected by people – especially civilians.

And oh, she’s still talking. Shit. Pay attention, Todd!

“No, I’m here on my own. Indexing the graves, remember?” She shakes her phone at him, teasing, and he has this sudden, stupid thought—he needs her number. Like, now. Before he can even think about it, he’s smirking and stealing her phone.

“Ah yes, for science, right?” He teases even as her eyebrows shoot up and she reaches to grab her phone back and makes a noise of protest.

He holds the phone out of her reach with one hand and uses the other to brace against her shoulder—and she’s warm. Just like her smile, her eyes, her presence, and—

“Yes, for science. I’m doing a very important project—” She’s pouting now, and Jason suddenly gets why men crumble under women. Because he thinks he might do anything if this girl asked him to.

“Very important project, huh? Does it involve harassing strangers and collecting phone numbers? ‘Cause you’ve nailed the first part, and I can help you with the second…”

She raises both eyebrows in impressed incredulity and shakes her head. “Impressive. Name, number—just need a follow-up appointment and this would be a perfect golden contact.”

Jason has no idea what half those words mean, but it sure sounds like she wants to see him again. “You asking to see me again, sweetheart?”

She opens her mouth like she doesn’t know what to say and Jason rushes to make sure she can’t back out.

“Cause I think that’s a great idea. You. Me. Somewhere less full of dead people. Food? Lunchtime? You do eat food, right, church girl?”

She just lets out a little laugh. “Yeah, I eat food.”

And damn—when had the sun set? Jason’s staring at this gorgeous girl, and she’s bathed in moonlight now. Her eyes, so blue earlier, seem almost silver. He’s transfixed.

His hand is still on her shoulder, the other holding her phone out of reach. He forgets it’s even there and lets it fall to his lap. His newly freed hand moves on instinct, brushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

“That a yes?” he asks, voice low, unconsciously leaning closer.

Her eyes flick away shyly, cheeks going pink. She’s red everywhere, and Jason feels his blood go hot at the thought that she’s this flustered from such an innocent touch.

She runs her tongue over her lower lip, nervous, and Jason has the dangerous thought of leaning in—just to see if she tastes like the vanilla he can smell this close. This fucking girl…

She breathes in, steadying herself. The air between them feels charged, almost alive. When her gaze finds his again, there’s a shy smile tugging at her mouth that completely wrecks him.

“That it is…”

Jason’s about two seconds away from losing himself in her eyes and making a lot of stupid decisions that a church girl — church girl, church girl, church girl — probably wouldn’t appreciate participating in. So he draws back, claps his hands together in the most awkward way possible, and clears his throat.

“Great.” He keeps his gaze fixed anywhere but her for a few seconds before his eyes betray him and flick back on their own. She’s blushing again — embarrassed, but amused — one eyebrow raised like she’s questioning every life choice he’s ever made.

“Can I have my phone back now?” she asks, that same smug little look tugging at her mouth, the one that makes Jason want to kiss her senseless.

“No — but you can unlock it so I can put my number in.”

“Oh, you gonna finally tell me your name while you’re at it?”

Jason opens his mouth to retort, then stops. Had he really not told her his name? Good fucking going, Todd.

“I mean, I could keep calling you Hot Cemetery Guy if not,” she says casually.

And no — he’s not blushing. Jason Todd does not get flustered by pretty girls.

He swallows all the words stuck in his throat. “It’s— I— my name’s Jason.”

For one terrifying moment, he’s sure she’s seen the headstone they’re leaning against. That she’s about to put two and two together, realize whose grave this is, and look at him with horror — disgust — and walk away.

But it must be a lucky day in Gotham, because none of that happens. Sadie just smiles, takes her phone back, and unlocks it.

“Hi, Jason. Can I have your number?”

It’s the beginning of the end.

It’s the end of the beginning.

Jason is fucked.

Chapter Text

By the time Jason leaves the cemetery, the streets are quiet — or as quiet as Gotham ever gets — but his mind won’t shut up. He’s not sure if it’s the quote, the girl, or the way she looked at him like he was worth talking to. He doesn’t do “unsettled,” yet here he is. 

He scrolls through his contacts and thumbs into his text thread with Arsenal. Roy owes him a drink anyway. 

Jason 8:07 p.m.  > You still in town? 

Roy’s response is nearly instantaneous. He’s probably already out as Arsenal for the night then. 

Roy 8:08 p.m. > Send me the XY

Jason shakes his head at his friend’s antics. He should’ve known he’d show up no questions asked. He sends the coordinates for a secure meetup location at one of his safehouses across town and sets off to meet him there. 

Jason’s not surprised Roy’s already there when he rolls up. Roy’s pilfering food from his bare fridge— doesn’t even bother to look up when Jason walks in, just tosses him a beer.

“You know, you only text when you have feelings or bullet wounds,” he retreats from the fridge with a beer of his own and some questionable food. “I should probably be offended, but turns out I don’t care.”

Jason grunts in response, cracking open the beer and taking a drink. “Fuck off, Harper.”

Roy grins. “So, seeing as you’re not actively bleeding out, you must be having some kind of emotional crisis.” 

Jason shoots him a scowl as he drops down onto the shaggy couch, annoyed at how well Roy knows him. It’s the whole reason why he wanted to talk to him, yeah, but it still pisses him off and makes him uncomfortable as hell. 

Jason scowls, takes another long drink. “This could be about a case.”

Roy gives him a dubious look as he comes to sit on the other side of the couch. “Right. So is it? About a case?”

A beat. Jason’s jaw ticks in annoyance. He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Fuck his life. 

“No.” And damn it all if his thoughts don’t run back to Sadie, to meeting her tonight, to the way she looked at him like he was the sun or some poetic shit like that. 

“You’re smiling,” Roy says, eyes narrowing.

Jason frowns. “No I’m not.”

“You were. Just now.”

Jason takes a pull from his beer and leans his head on the back of the couch to stare at the ceiling. He’s really doing this, then, huh?

“Met someone. Weird.” Jason’s voice is flat on purpose, but his pulse kicks anyway. In his mind, all he can see are Sadie’s bright eyes, the way she blushed, how he wanted to pull her closer and kiss her. He’s in too deep. 

“Weird how?” Roy leans forward, smirking like he already knows the answer.

Jason turns his head to look at Roy. He exhales through his nose. “I was at the cemetery. Then there’s the happiest person on the fuckin’ planet—just there. At dusk. Doing some hell-knows-what project. In the fuckin’ Gotham Cemetery. Like she didn’t get the memo this city eats people alive.” He scoffs. Shakes his head. Takes another drink.

“Wait—this was at a cemetery? You picked up a girl in a graveyard? Jesus, man, that’s a new low.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it—one step off from picking up a girl in Arkham. But she’s not like that, alright? She’s so fuckin’ normal it makes Gotham feel like—hell—Central City instead of some shithole.”

“Ah shit, you’re down bad.” Roy laughs, throwing an arm over the back of the couch comfortably. “So what—did you talk to her? Civilian? Hot?”

Jason groans and throws his now-empty beer can at his best friend. “Shut up.” Roy laughs again, more genuinely this time, and raises a defensive hand. 

“So she’s really hot. Nice.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

Jason runs a hand through his hair. Roy gives him an assessing look, passes him another beer.

“So, she’s pretty. Not the first time that’s happened. What about this girl’s got you all fucked up?”

Jason shakes his head, pops the tab on the can as he thinks. How the hell’s he supposed to describe her? Everything she made him feel in five minutes flat? “She was just… different. Sat right next to me. Took my book. Said some line about redemption like it meant something.”

Roy whistles low. “Yeah, that’d mess you up. Some girl dropping redemption talk in a graveyard? You’re cooked, man.”

Jason doesn’t have anything to say to that. He can feel the way he’s already starting to spiral on this girl. He’s seeing her again tomorrow, and he has no idea what to do with that — just that whatever he felt with her tonight, he wants to feel again.

Roy’s voice drags him back. “But, maybe it does mean something, man.”

“Maybe. She seemed to think so at least.” He shakes his head, that smile teasing at the corner of his lips again as he thinks about her. “God, you know she said her mom named her after a book character? The book I was reading. The fuckin’ odds…” 

Oh god, tell me you’re not out here pining after some girl named Daisy.”

“It’s not Daisy.”

“But you were reading Gatsby? Christ, Jay, next you’ll be throwing rooftop parties for her ghost.”

“I wasn’t— Jesus, Roy. I’m not Gatsby.”

“Sure, sure. Just a brooding guy chasing something pure in a rotten city. Totally different.”

Sometimes Jason really wonders why he and Roy are friends. 

“I was reading Count of Monte Cristo, dumbass,” Jason says. “She’s named after Mercedes.”

“Like the car?” Jason can tell Roy’s just saying it to get under his skin– and it’s working.

Jason sighs. “Jesus Christ, Roy.”

“What? I’m just saying, Jay–girl’s literally named after the tragic revenge novel love interest. That’s textbook chliché.”

“I’m not making it up!” 

“Hey, didn’t say you were—but damn—you’re serious?”

Jason shrugs. “Unless she’s lying. But… nah.” He shakes his head. “She’s got this sincerity that makes you wanna tell all your secrets, let alone lie.” 

“Well, shit.”

They’re both silent for a moment. They both take a drink of beer in eerie sync. 

“I’m seeing her again tomorrow.”

Roy gives him a knowing smirk. “Yeah, you’re fucked.”