Chapter Text
Jason
Dust puffed up from the mattress as Jason tossed his backpack and his red duffel bag full of weapons onto the bed. He waved at the resulting cloud. It had been almost a year since anyone had been in the cabin. Neglected was an understatement. Dust and dirt, dead bugs on the windowsills, spiderwebs in the corners, the smell of musty, stale air. Right now, he’d take it all over the gas and smog and new pavement of Gotham.
He jerked open a window to let in fresh air. Ignoring the chill and the promise of snow later that week as the wind whistled through the gap, he started unpacking his bags and cleaning the safehouse.
It was out in the countryside but closer to Gotham than he originally thought he would land. Better to confuse the others, he’d decided. To keep his trail hard to follow, he hadn’t ridden out here directly. He’d roamed around the east coast for a couple weeks before he decided which safehouse to end up at. Jason hadn’t cooled down much over that time. The fight with Bruce kept rattling around in his head, irritating him, the undeserved scolding echoing back the faults B saw in him.
Defiant. Reckless. Obstinate. Foolhardy.
It was like he thought Jason was still that starry-eyed kid in pixie boots who was going to be all contrite and let Bruce chastise him. He had been right to ignore Batman’s orders and go back into that building to get the files on the human trafficking ring, even if the place had collapsed on him in the end. It wasn’t like it had completely buried him since he’d almost made it all the way back to the door. They’d managed to reach the building and dig him out in time. It only took him a week to regain consciousness.
It wasn’t that bad.
Obviously could’ve been way worse. And they got the files and even busted up the ring while he was out of it. A clear win.
Except Bruce didn’t see it that way.
Of course he didn’t, the old man was impossible to please. Bruce had hovered around like a silent watch dog in the corner for days while Jason dealt with being smothered by everyone. Dick had barely left the room. The others had been just as bad. He had never watched so much TV or played so many rounds of poker and Uno and Apples to Apples or listened to that many audiobooks. B waited until Jason was mostly on the mend and everyone was out of his room for once to tear into him. As if Bruce didn’t take calculated risks. As if he wouldn’t have done the same thing if he’d been in Jason’s shoes. Hypocrite.
Jason had taken off the next day while everyone was busy. The front door had provided the least protected escape route since they thought he’d bolt out a window or down through the caves and consequently kept those monitored. He’d taped his latest cellphone to the bottom of a rent-a-scooter on his way out of town. He didn’t want anybody tracking him, including Babs, for as long as he could manage.
The only people he’d talked to were the other Outlaws. He had stayed with Biz for a couple days and Roy for another while he was wandering then they’d all met up with Artemis and Kori for a weekend to take down a drug kingpin down in Charlotte. Most likely one of them had let Dick or Tim or somebody know he was still currently alive. Eventually he’d decided he wanted to hole up somewhere, and he had picked the cabin. The Outlaws knew where he was if something big happened and they needed to get in touch with him since he’d also given them his new phone number.
Otherwise, he wanted to be left alone.
Before getting to the cabin, Jason had stopped by the grocery store in town and picked up some essentials using cash: hamburger meat, buns, a loaf of bread, a case of beer, Captain Crunch, milk, and peanut butter. He could survive on that for a few days. He’d put the cold groceries away while leaving the rest on the counter. Even though the cabin didn’t have AC, it did have electricity and a working fridge, plus highspeed Internet. The important things, though the Internet made him somewhat more trackable. Babs could find him if she really did some searching.
After stashing his weapons around the place in easily accessible locations (adding new ones to those already there), Jason attacked the corners of the cabin with a broom, knocking down carefully constructed webs. He didn’t hate spiders but they belonged outside. When they breached his territory, they got the broom. Death to eight-legged intruders.
Outside, the sun was setting and the temperature was dropping fast. He had to start a fire in the old stove if he was going to stay warm. Blankets and sheets for the bed would be good, too. He found a clean set of sheets and a quilt in the closet. After making the bed, he went outside to get firewood from the stacks by the side of the house.
By the time he had the fire going in both the fireplace and the stove, he was wiped. While he was mostly healed, he still got tired easily and it had been a long day. He managed eat a bowl of cereal and down a single beer before the tug of sleepiness was impossible to ignore. The heat from the stove was making him extra drowsy.
Snagging a second quilt from a different closet, Jason shucked off his shirt, changed into grey sweatpants, and settled on the couch in the living room. He wanted to read a little then he would go to bed.
He nodded off before he was more than five pages into Oliver Twist.
The cabin was greyish with early morning light when Jason woke up. Something clattered in the kitchen behind him.
He wasn’t alone in the cabin.
Jason snatched the gun he’d hidden under the couch and flicked off the safety as he rolled up onto his knees, lowering the muzzle at the noise. Aim first, ask questions later.
The sizable black goat with massive horns and one missing ear was standing on his kitchen table, eating his box of Captain Crunch. It blinked at him and kept chewing.
“Huh.” Jason lowered the gun. The front door was open. Did he not lock it last night? Shit, he must’ve been more out of it than he realized—but how did a goat open the door? Demon goat.
Cussing under his breath, Jason set the gun down on the coffee table and glared at the goat. “Out.”
The goat tore another bit of cardboard off of what was left of the box and munched on Captain Crunch and paper. The floor was covered in Captain Crunch.
Yawning, Jason shoved away from the couch. “Goat. Go.”
That didn’t seem to do much good. The goat continued to ignore him, but it did jump off the table. It clopped over toward the kitchen counter and propped its legs up on the edge to try to get at the loaf of bread. Jason realized that the pack of hamburger buns he’d left on the kitchen table was already gone. Crumbles of buns were scattered across the kitchen.
“Asshole,” Jason said, grabbing the shreds of the plastic bag. “Go on, get out.”
The goat was completely unbothered. It stretched its neck out and nipped the end of the loaf bag.
Jason yelled wordlessly, trying to startle it. It finally got down and started eating the Captain Crunch instead. He walked over and tried to grab it by one of its horns, but it tilted its head away and side-eyed him. He’d forgotten how creepy goat eyes were.
He’d never admit it, but Damian would be handy right about now.
Jason shoved the goat’s flank, attempting to get it to go out the door. It stomped a hoof and nearly speared Jason’s bare foot.
All right, fine. The broom worked on spiders, maybe it’d work on the goat. He headed off to the bedroom where he’d left the broom. Grabbing it, he marched back into the kitchen and tapped the straw end against the goat’s back legs.
The goat turned and bit the broom.
Yeah, definitely a demon goat.
“Get outta here,” Jason growled, trying to yank the broom out of the goat’s mouth. He wasn’t going to hurt the little monster, but he was going to get it out of the cabin somehow. Since it didn’t seem like it was going to let go of the broom, he turned around and started hauling it toward the door. It widened its stance and jerked back.
“Vincent!”
The shout was distant but clear. Jason glanced at the door. So did the goat, right before it starting gnawing on the broomstraws.
“Stop,” Jason said, pulling on the broom. The goat inched toward the door. Jason was a lot stronger than the goat, so he was having to be careful.
“Vincent? Come on, seriously, you hateful thing! Vincent!”
“Viiiiincent!” The second voice was a lot higher than the first and definitely a kid. “Where are you?”
Jason glowered at the goat. “Vincent, right?”
The goat tugged at the broom.
“Hey, I’ve got your goat,” Jason yelled back through the open doorway. “He likes Captain Crunch if you wanna lure him with something.”
The first voice, feminine and exasperated, made a frustrated sound that seemed to be the start of one four letter word before she switched abruptly to a different one. “Shit, sorry, he’s got a sweet tooth, be right there!”
“Mommy, you—oh no—It’s a sweared-curse.”
“Remind me to put money in the jar later, pumpkin.”
He pulled the goat out onto the porch as a woman climbed over a broken part of the wooden fence on the edge of the cabin’s property. She helped a smaller figure wriggle through the fence planks, and then they both hurried across the frost-covered yard.
“Vincent, you absolute jerk,” the woman said as she shot a glare at the goat then looked apologetically up at Jason. “Did he eat your whole house? I’m so sorry, the donkey let almost all of them out, this guy and Gertrude are the last ones missing—”
“Gertrude is here?” the kid, a little girl, asked, peeking around who Jason guessed was her mom. “Are you cold? Don’t you got no coat?”
“Um—” He had forgotten to put a shirt on in his haste to get rid of the goat. “Kind of cold, yeah.”
The woman was around his age, and her pretty face was turning as red as her wavy auburn hair under her floppy teal beanie. “I’d offer you my jacket, but I don’t think it’d fit.” She was shorter than him by a foot, with her hair tossed up in a low ponytail. She had on a tan jacket, plaid pajamas bottoms, and big black work boots while the kid, a little girl with curly reddish-brown hair and big hazel eyes, had on jeans and a hoodie and sneakers. She had her hood up, but she also had on a purple knit hat with a long tail.
“Probably not,” Jason said, “And I don’t know who or where Gertrude is, kid.”
The kid clapped her hands together. “Gertrude’s an alpaca, she’s old!”
“At least we found Vincent,” the woman said, “Sorry again.” She snapped her fingers at the goat. “Get over here…”
Vincent clomped off the porch. The woman looped a lead line that had been slung over her shoulder around the goat’s neck. It butted its head against her side as she scratched between its horns.
“I’m Delaney, hi,” the little girl said, holding onto her mom’s coat hem, “Are you a ghost? Ghosts are cold.”
“Del, he’s not see-through. And he’s breathing,” the red-haired woman said, her mouth quirking up in a grin. “Both are not ghostly, so he’s only got one ghost thing going for him.”
“Maybe he’s make-believing,” the girl said, planting her hands on her hips. She was an itty bitty kid, maybe four or five. “You’re a ghost or not?”
“Not exactly,” Jason said, offering the kid a small smile. “I’m Jason. Currently not a ghost.” Maybe if she had caught him in a different year. “I’m just visiting.”
“Oh, okay,” Delaney said. “Why’re you living here if you’re not a ghost?”
“Is this a ghost house or something?” Jason asked, his smile widening at her wide-eyed questions and the general silliness of the whole situation. This kind of thing didn’t happen in Gotham.
“Everyone thought this place was abandoned, that’s why the kids all think it’s haunted. I’m Imogen, most people call me Mo,” the woman said, “Nice to meet you. Though I guess you’re not happy to meet us given the whole cereal stealing, house invading goat problem.” She waved her hands toward the door. “I’ll buy you new Captain Crunch and anything else he ate, but you better go in before you freeze.”
“What about Gertrude?” Delaney asked.
“That’s our problem, not our new neighbor’s,” Mo said, shaking her head. “Hopefully if we’re nice, he won’t press charges against our goat.”
Jason wasn’t sure why he spoke up, but it felt right. “I don’t have anything else to do.” He shrugged. “If you want some more help.”
“Help us, yes, Gertrude’s very lost,” Delaney said.
Mo looked uncertain. “You really don’t have to. This can’t be how you thought your morning was going to go.”
“I’m weirdly good at finding stuff,” Jason said. Part of his training had included locating lost pets, after all.
Mo half-smiled. “Even alpacas?”
He smirked. “Yeah, I’m actually the top alpaca finder in the state.” He nodded at Delaney. “Especially old ones.”
“Wow,” Delaney said, her eyes brightening, “That’s so cool.”
“I guess we can’t pass that up glowing self-recommendation,” Mo said, “But maybe you should put a shirt and jacket on first, Alpaca Guy, so you don’t freeze.”
He noticed she wasn’t looking away, even if she was still blushing. “Give me three minutes.” He slapped the doorframe on his way into the house. “Don’t let the goat eat anything else or I’ll sue.”
“I said I was sorry!” Mo called after him, her voice lifting up in a laugh at the end.
Jason snorted, amused. Yeah, this wasn’t how he thought he wasn’t going to start his stay here, but this was interesting, at least. And Mo and Delaney seemed nice, even if they were in the possession of a devil goat. He could be alone later.