#listen if i was barbara and scarecrow touched me like that

[crepuscular-gloom]

Why did they make scarecrow sexy in the arkam series it's not fair

[daringyounggrayson]

misplaced guilt

(Read below or on AO3)

It’s been a while since Bruce has been to one of these galas, and for once, he is neither hosting nor making a speech. It’s a nice change, to say the least.

Dick is sitting next to him, kicking his legs under the table. Bruce would tell him to stop, but at least he’s actually using the chair as intended with both feet closer to the floor than the chair, so Bruce lets it go for the moment. If it gets too out of control, he can always reach out and stop him, but for now, he’ll let the kid release some pent-up energy.

Bruce keeps half of his attention on Dick and the other half on his conversation with Jasmine Owen, a woman who works at one of Gotham’s youth centers. Bruce knew from the second she introduced herself that she came over in hopes of getting a donation, but he doesn’t mind; that’s one of the main purposes of these things, and Bruce is happy to help however he can.

“Babs,” Dick gasps excitedly, shooting upright when he catches Barbara walk into the room, Commissioner Gordon by her side. Bruce looks over at Dick, quirking an eyebrow. Dick smiles back, asks in his I’m-in-public-so-I’m-behaving-like-an-angel voice, “May I please be excused?”

“Hnn,” Bruce says, pretending to think over his answer.

“Bruce,” Dick whines.

Bruce smiles. “Alright. But stay in the ballroom. Dinner is going to be served soon.”

“Okay, thanks!” he slides out of his chair and offers a wave. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Owen.”

“And you, Richard,” she smiles back. When he’s gone, she turns to Bruce again and says, “He’s a sweet kid.”

Bruce can’t help but think at least in public, and at least to people who aren’t me. He’s half-joking, but there’s some truth to the statement: Dick has always seemed to behave better for Alfred, and he’s nothing if not an angel around strangers, even when he’s mad at Bruce.

At home, it’s not that Dick isn’t a good kid—he is—but he’s still a kid. Dick can be sassy, and he has a taste for anything that will make Bruce’s hair turn gray (usually dangerous, usually far away from the ground). He also has no qualms about making fun of Bruce when Dick feels it’s called for. Then there are the arguments, the borderline tantrums. Both have been decreasing in frequency, and Bruce attributes most of them to processing and coming to terms with his parents’ murder, but they are—difficult, to say the least. Dick will have these rough days—sometimes rough weeks—where he’ll lash out at Bruce over the smallest things. Sometimes it seems like he yells at Bruce just to put his hurt somewhere.

Bruce tries to take all of it—from the jokes at his expense that even he has to admit are funny, to the meltdowns—as a good sign, one that says Dick feels secure and knows that Bruce will love him regardless of his behavior or attitude. But there are certainly days when Bruce thinks it would be nice if Dick would listen to him like he listens to Alfred—like when Bruce tells him to get off of the unstable shed roof, for example.  

Despite the challenges that come with raising a child, there are also so many blessings. There’s no other word to describe it. Seeing Dick learn and grow and thrive is something Bruce will never get tired of. On top of that, Dick is just this brilliant, funny, and kind child. He has the biggest heart Bruce has ever seen, and he cares so deeply and widely. Bruce doesn’t know how he got so lucky. Dick is Bruce’s light, his whole world.

Bruce pulls himself out of his head, says, “He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” It’s something he can say with complete honesty. “Do you have kids?”

“Oh god, no. I think I’m still a little young for that,” she laughs. Then, thinking about what she said, her face falls. “Not that you were too young, just for me, I’d rather—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He puts his hands up and smiles. “I was really young when I took Dick in. I go to parent-teacher conferences, and most of the other parents are at least ten years older than me. But I like to think I’m doing alright, and Dick’s happy, so that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, I suppose.” She smiles, but looks down at the table.

“So, what’s it like day-to-day at the youth center?”

She looks up, coming alive again, and the conversation picks back up.

oOo

After dinner, Dick and Barbara disappear again, and Bruce is left alone to mingle. Most people come to him, but he only has to escape a few times, so it’s going about as good as these things can go.

That is until a very urgent Barbara runs into him and tugs on his arm. “Sorry everyone, but I need to borrow Brucie for a second.”

Bruce ducks down to look Barbara in the eye. “What is it?”

“Dick. Just come with me.”

He follows her without another word to the group of people he was talking to. She leads him into the hall and toward the lobby. When they turn the corner, Dick is on the ground in a lateral recumbent position. Gordon is talking to him gently, though Dick seems unresponsive.

“Dick.” Bruce lurches forward, falling to his knees and reaching out to find Dick’s pulse and check his breathing. “What happened?”

“Barbara thinks he had a seizure,” Gordon answers. “An ambulance will be here soon.”

Dick’s breath hitches and he lets out a low moan that feels like a twisting dagger in Bruce’s chest. His eyes find Bruce’s, and he unwraps one hand from his stomach to reach for Bruce’s. Bruce takes it, squeezing it gently in a reassuring manner.

“I’m right here,” Bruce promises, running a hand through Dick’s hair.

“It hurts,” Dick gasps.

“Shh, the paramedics are going to be here soon. We’ll fix it.”

Dick shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t feel right.”

Bruce tightens his grip slightly, hoping to keep Dick conscious. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“Head, stomach,” Dick mumbles. “Feel hot, an’ dizzy.”

Bruce frowns, trying to determine what could be causing Dick’s symptoms. Is this the beginning of an illness, or a seizure disorder? Has Dick been poisoned? There was a run-in with Scarecrow a few nights ago, and Dick had needed to take an untested antidote for the fear toxin. Could this be a delayed reaction to the concoction Bruce had come up with?

Dick’s grip loosens.

“Dick?” Bruce calls urgently. “Dick!”

He gets no response.

oOo

Dick is staring at a white ceiling when he realizes he’s awake. Sunlight is streaming in through a giant window on his right, and there’s a framed painting of giraffes across from him. He’s tired and confused, and his gut tells him that something is wrong, that something bad happened. His first thought is that he wants his mom.

He turns his head to the left, finding Bruce in a chair and holding his hand.

“Hi,” Dick says, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. Bruce grunts some kind of greeting and raises Dick’s bed while Dick takes in the medical bracelets on his wrist—one ID bracelet and one that indicates that he’s a fall risk—and the IV in the back of his hand. “What happened?”

Bruce shifts in his chair, face serious. “We were at the gala. You were poisoned.”

Dick matches Bruce’s expression, trying to think. He remembers being with Babs, telling her that something was wrong. Then he’d been on the ground, and there’d been sirens.

“The man who poisoned you had planned to offer me the antidote for a price, but he didn’t realize that you would react to the poison so—so severely,” Bruce explains, rubbing his thumb over Dick’s knuckles. “He was working as one of the waiters and heard the commotion. He came forward shortly after the ambulance left and he’s currently in custody.”

Dick swallows. “Why did he . . .” Why did he poison Dick in the first place? Need money so badly? Feel that poisoning Dick was the only option? “Would it have killed me? If he didn’t give us the antidote.”

Bruce, like always, is honest with Dick. “The doctors were able to stabilize you, but they needed to neutralize the poison quickly, and the antidote did that. It’s hard to say what would have happened without it, but things were touch and go for a while.”

Dick nods, not sure what to say as he takes it in. Eventually, he asks, “How long have I been out?”

“A few days. You woke up a few times yesterday, but you were incoherent,” Bruce says.

Dick wracks his brain, trying to pull up some inaccessible memory.

“I’m sorry that this happened, Dick.”

Dick squeezes Bruce’s hand. “Not your fault.”

“Hnn.”

“What? Are you seriously guilty that you didn’t taste all of my food first or something? ‘Cause that’s nuts, B.”

Bruce says, “You are my child. I am allowed to feel guilty when I fail to protect you.”

“You didn’t fail,” Dick interjects. “I’m okay—really.”

Bruce’s face is still pinched and concerned, and he’s looking at Dick like he might fall apart. Dick leans toward him and stretches his arms out, and Bruce quickly pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bruce,” Dick promises. And even to himself, it doesn’t sound like a reassurance most nine-year-olds should be giving. But it fits with his new life, he supposes. “I’m okay.”

Bruce tucks Dick’s head under his chin, says, “I was . . . I’m glad that you’re alright.”

Dick nods into Bruce’s chest and lets himself be held for another moment. It’s not the hug from his mom that he woke up wanting, but it’s close. It makes him feel safe and reminds him of home, and maybe that’s all Dick needs.

[miraculous-trinity-leo]

Whacky Gotham, Goofy New York, and Chaotic Paris.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Chapter 6: Evade The Bats, and Beat The Crows

•—–—–·†·–—–—•

The girls are in the old living room setting up clues (that are absolutely... useless) around Gotham. One being a picture Harley and Multimouse took earlier that day.

"They might think to look here after they realize the clues are fake." - Steph

"Then where else would they not think to look?" - Maria

"W.E, I can get you and Harley in without them knowing easily." - Barbara said with a confident smile.

"But they'll have to go incognito... especially you Harley, no offense, but your outfit stands out just a tad." - Steph

"Ehhh, none taken, I'm sure I can tink of somthin' else tuh wear." - Harley

"I can help with that, but I'll need some clothes and some sewing supplies." - Maria said already thinking of what she could make.

Cass gave a nod and headed out of the room, after a few minutes she came back with t-shirts, jackets, sweaters, shorts, jeans, etc. and droped the pile of clothes infront of the group. She then handed Maria a sewing set she got from Alfred.

"Thanks Cass. I'll get to work on making our costumes." - Maria

"Let me help yuh wit' dat hun." - Harley said as she picked up most of the clothes for Maria

"Thanks." Maria

•—–·Let's see the Chaos shall we·–—•

"You never told us she could use magic!" - Red Hood looking under the table

"I wonder if she can infuse magic with coffee..." - Red Robin said looking in the cabinets for the third time.

"Stop looking for coffee!" - Red Hood

"She could've hidden in here." - Red Robin said while crabbing a mug

"I haven't had enough sleep to deal with this." - Selina then walked over and flopped herself on the couch and proceeded to fall asleep on impact.

"Maria get your tiny self back here right now or else!" - Tony

"Or else what? She Knows MAGIC! What else does she know that you haven't told us?!" - Red Hood

"... I never told you becuase it's meant to be a secret!" - Tony

"Oh, so now you agree with keeping things a secret?" - Red Robin grabbing the coffee

"What else can she do Tony." - Batman

"Well... she's great with tech, can kick butt in a LOT of different ways, has magic, and if she wants to, she can find and know where everyone or anyone is, but I think she gets massive headaches from a wide search like that." - Tony

"Anything else?" - Batman

(Tony thinkng of all the tiny gods she has in jewelery, and that she keeps Paris/friends and family safe on a daily basis, and that she is the well known designer MDC...)"No..." - Tony

As ivy was listening to them talk, she continued to search her garden, until one of her plants had a message fo her.

"Hello Ms. Ivy, please don't help Batman and Iron Man find us, we promise we'll be careful." - Maria

"Where are you?" - Ivy asked whispering into the plant.

After a few minutes Ivy got a detailed plan that Maria, Harley and the girls came up with to evade The IronBat group (Maria thought that would be better than ManMan group 'But it's Bat MAN and Iron MAN, so it has tuh be The ManMan group.' was Harleys defence, but Maria won that one.) and Ivy agreed to help as best she could.

•—–· Over to the Miraculous gang ·–—•

Plagg is cackling like there's no tomorrow.

"Guys something must be wrong, Plagg won't stop cackling, he won't even touch the cheese I gave him!!!" - Adrien

"There's no time for that, we need to find out where the hell Maria is!!" - Chloé

"Hahahaha, Ti- heheh Tikk- pffhaaaaaaahaha!!!" - Plagg

"He's trying to form words!" Adrien cradling Plagg in his hands "What is it my friend? Don't do this, you're to young...*sniff * you're to beautiful!"

"Hehehehe Shhhh- hahaha, she- she- haha...heheh- I'm so p-hehe-Proud wahahaha " - Plagg

"Proud?! She?! Where?! Who, is it Maria?!" - Chloé

"Hhhhhhhhahhaaaaaaaaaa" - Plagg

"Oh God he's wheezing!" - Adrien

"Hey guys, Peter and I got the snacks, found out where Maria might- oh kwami." - Alix walking into the room to a zombie looking Chloé, a panicked Adrien and the Kwami of death/bad luck/chaos laughing himself to death.

"Has he finally lost it?" - Peter

"She has become a true cat! hahahahahaaaaa heheheheeeeeee." - Plagg

Everyone in the room but Plagg "Oh fu-"

•—–· Over to the Batfam ·–—•

So everyone is panicking because for the past hour none of them could find Multimouse. Robin is sitting on the couch next to a now fully awake Selina, Red Hood and Nightwing are once again feeding each other the worst possible situation she could be in, Tony may or may not be hyperventilating, Red Robin is drinking coffee, and Batman is as stoic as ever... well on the outside anyway, on the inside, it's a warzone. Ivy is drinking her tea, slightly worried, but also hiding a small smile.

"What if we ask Oracle to try and help us find her?" - Red Robin

"... Right... Yes, ok let's do that... Bats you do it, I need to sit down." - Tony

•—–· Back to the girls ·–—•

The girls moved everything to the Bat-cave so they could set the route they would take, then the Bat-Computer started ringing.

"Hide!" - Steph

"Where, dere's nuttin' tuh hide behind!" - Harley

"Quick under the Bat-Computer." - Barbara

As soon as Harley and Maria hid under the Bat-Computer, Batman and the rest of the Batfam was on video call.

"Hey guys, what do you need?" - Barbara acting like nothing happened

"We need you to search for Maria, she's in a dark gray suit with pink accents, and she's with Harley." - Batman

"Ok, no prob, I'll contact you when I've found something." - and with that Barbara exited the call.

"Should we start heading out?" - Maria

"Yup, and here are your ID badges, don't lose them. I'll give our Batfam fake sightings, and lead them far away, then once you reach W.E I'll slowly start leading them closer to you." - Barbara

"Thanks, keep in touch if they decide to split up." - Maria

"Roger that." - Steph said giving a solute

•—–·–—•

Soon Multimouse and Harley are running over roof tops again, doing tricks, and stopping petty crimes, Barbara is leading the Batfam all over Gotham, and then they got to W.E, after Maria transformed back, they entered the building. Thanks to Babs, they entered without any problems and had free roam for the entire building, with some exceptions like new weapons designs, or the roof. They were hiding in the building for about an hour on the 7th floor when Barbara called in.

"Hey girls, you might want to be careful, I spotted some of Scarecrows goons a few blocks away, they seem to be heading in your direction, I'd say about 6mins tops until they reach W.E. Best to find a good room to stay in, or get out of there." - Barbara

"Thanks fawh de heads up Babs." - Harley

"Ok, we'll try to get out, let us know if we should turn back or not." - Maria

"Got it, and be careful." - Barbara

Maria and Harley then made their way back down, they were taking the stairs, because they figured it would be quicker, once they were on the second floor, they started to calmly make their way through the doors of the stairwell. That's when Scarecrows goons busted in, shouting for everyone to get down, Harley made sure to stay as close to Maria as possible as the goons gathered everyone to a wall. They were told to not move, talk, or do anything to anger them, once everyone was up against the wall, that's when Scarecrow came in. As he entered the room some of the employees started to look very scared, when Maria looked over to Harley, she saw her mouth 'it's ok', afterwards the goons had them all tied up and on the floor sitting down. Scarecrow scanned them before speaking.

"One of you will be testing my newest and most potent fear toxin as of yet. We can do this one out of two ways." He said lifting up two of his needle syringed fingers. "1. You can be a hero, and let yourself be my newest test subject, aka the boring way or 2. I pick whoever I want, aka the slightly less boring way. Now, who wants to go first?"

•—–· Over to Batman ·–—•

The Batfam was running around the other side of Gotham, now without Tony, because someone ( ehem Thor, ehem) was making a giant mess at Avengers Tower, and was fighting Loki... again. It was when they decided to call Oracle that things took another turn.

"Oracle have you foun- " - Batman

"They're at W.E. and Scarecrows there, I can't get in contact with them, and I can't get into the cameras at the moment, I need you to get your butts over there now!" - Oracle

"Wait you were in contact with them?!" - Red Hood

"Not the time! Just get over there before someone gets hurt!" - Oracle

"We're on our way." - Batman

They all then kicked it into high gear and were running to W.E, and out of everyone, Damian seemed to be the most visibly panicked, if him running twice as fast as everyone was any indication. At the speed they were going, they would be there in 20mins or less... hopefully.

•—–· Back to Maria and Harley ·–—•

So while Scarecrow was giving his little speech, Maria whispered into a plant to let Ivy know their situation, she wasn't able to get an answer before she and Harley were pulled away from the crowd.

"And what do we have here? Harley Quinn and a child. How interesting, well then, which one of you would like to test my new fear toxin?" - Scarecrow

"Eh, do me, I bet I got a lot o' trauma and fears from my time wit' Mistuh J. dat yuh would just love tuh see." - Harley

"... As tempting as that sounds I think I'll test it on your little friend here, after all, I know better than to mess with one of the Sirens." - As Scarecrow said that, one of the goons dragged Maria over to him. She didn't panic, she was actually really calm, which worried Harley even more because, remember all that emotional trauma she saw Maria had? Yeah, not the best match for the fear toxin.

As Scarecrow grabbed Maria, she locked eyes with Harley, and gave a brief smile before she felt a sharp jabbing pain in the side of her neck. Her vision went hazy, and from Harleys' point of view, she went a little limp from it.

As Maria started to see again she could hear screams, car alarms going off, and explosion in the distance, when she looked up, she saw them, her friends, her team... her family, they were all there lying infront of her... none of them moving, all of them were lifeless, looking as though turned into a gray husk of what they once were, and beside them were all the Kwamis, and their respective Jewelery, broken and shattered. She felt the tears fall as she looked around. Paris, the once beautiful city of lights, was now a wasteland, everything had a gray tone to it, people, animals, everything that had life... was dead.

And then she heard laughing, a sick disturbing laugh that was all to familiar... Lila. When she turned and saw Vulpina, she felt sick just looking at her.

"You have failed Maria, everyone you knew and loved is gone, all because you weren't here." - Lila

All she felt in that moment... was pure anger, she began to struggle, but somthing was holding her. She kept hearing that stupid laugh, and kept struggling harder and harder.

"You were never good enough, you were meant to always be our everyday Ladybug, but you never were, you never cared for us, and that's why, they're all gone, because you weren't good enough." - Lila

The last four words kept playing over and over in her head, until something clicked, she wasn't in Paris, so how did she get there? The last place she was at... was with Harley, she was in the W.E. building, and had fear toxin injected into her. As she came to that realization, she could hear the laughing fade just a bit, she closed her eyes and focused on finding everyone's souls, when she did, she saw that Scarecrow was right infront of her, a goon next to Harley, and a goon behind her, the other goons had left and were on the first floor. She snapped back when she heard Lilas' voice again.

"You always were stubborn and never accepted the real truth, as class president aren't you supposed to just roll over and do as you're told." - Lila

Maria was done listening to her, and decided to kick Lila in the face (since someone didn't think to tie up her ankles.)

"Just go rott in hell already you lieing fox!" - Maria

Maria didn't get any answer, all she knew was that she hit whatever was really infront of her hard. Maria then heard Lilas' voice morph into a heavier, more distorted voice.

"That's a first, guess I'll have to increase the dosage." - Scarecrow

She then felt another jabbing pain in her neck, all she could do was scream from the pain, her head was spinning, and all she could hear was laughing, sickening laughter that came from both Lila, and now Hawkmoth. One thing Scarecrow didn't account for, was the deep hatred Maria held for both individuals he made her see. Because soon after he gave her more fear toxin she got her footing, pushing back into the goon behind her before using the goons' grib on her to do a half backflip into kicking the guys face in, quickly knocking the goon out, when she stood back up she only saw Hawkmoth, surrounded by her lifeless team and family, she only saw red, and charge right at him. She kept punching and roundhouse kicking him, giving one final charge, ramming into Hawkmoth before she felt weightless. She never heard the panicked scream Harley let out, she never heard the shouts that came from the Batfam just reaching the second floor, before she hit something... something rapped around her holding her from falling any further, causing her to start thrashing around thinking it was Hawkmoth, before seeing he was also grabbed by something. She struggled ignoring the slight pain that went through her harms and legs. She slowly calmed down as she felt her feet touch the ground again, she then saw another Hawkmoth that was now mixed with Lila hug her, she tried to break free, but realized that it wasn't Lila or Hawkmoth... It was calming, and her voice was gentle, it was Ivy. She only heard a few words, that's when she felt something blow on her face, and after a few seconds, she lost conscientiousness.

Harley came sprinting down and was by Ivys' side in less than a minute. Ivy could tell Harley was worried and joined her in hugging a now sleeping Maria.

"I'm sawhry Ives, It all just happened so fast, and she was so awesome at kickin' Cranes @ss, I din't get her out of dere quick enough." - Harley said as she looked Ivy in the eyes, with tears threatening to escape.

"It's alright Harley, none of this is your fault." - Ivy replied comfortingly to Harley

As the two hugged Maria Batman came over.

"We'll take it from here." - Batman

"Hell no. We ain't leavin' her side." - Harley

Batman just let out a sigh, after he dealt with Scarecrow and his goons, Batman, along with his sons, Ivy and Harley, all headed back to the Bat-cave where the other girls and Alfred were waiting.

If anyone noticed Robin looking over to Maria with a concerned look, they just ignored it, and continued their way back home.

•—–·†·–—•

Chapter 6 complete! Hope you'll liked it, and are havin' a fantabulous day, stay safe and rock all those positive vibes. !BUG-OUT! 🐞💮🐞

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[scaryscarecrows]

I'd Crawl on Broken Glass to be the One That Laughs Last

Gotham’s gone straight to Hell in a handbasket. Scarecrow’s dead, which is no loss, but Bruce is missing, Arkham blew up for reasons unknown, and the Arkham Knight’s Militia is still in control. Oh, sure, there’s a fair chunk of them in lockup, but they’ve been getting steadily more riled as the days wear on (three days since the Asylum, their boss has to be dead, who’s in charge now?), and the tanks are still running patrols, the bombs are still in the road, and there are checkpoints and watchtowers everywhere.

Jim thinks they’re waiting for something. There’s been no assault, not like he thought there might be. The street thugs and any uncaptured Rogues are still allowed to run wild, though the watchtowers have been spotted taking shots at something big flying around out there. Honestly, they’re even leaving the police alone, for the most part...but they will still shoot at the cars if they get too close. It’s like they’re on babysitting duty or something until the Knight gets back. It’s unsettling.

He’s out doing a little exploration-he doubts they’ve killed Batman, or they’d be gone, but Bruce still isn’t around-when something drops onto the roof of his car. He hits the brakes, tires screeching, and narrowly avoids sliding into a tank crossing the road.

Breathe.

Jim has no time to go for his gun before the driver’s side door gets ripped open by what Jim can only describe as the Hulk. The man outside is only a little smaller than Bane*. There’s a rocket launcher on his back and Jim’s sure he’s not the one that landed on the car, because the car would be a pancake.

He’s proven right a second later when the polar opposite of the giant jumps down. That said, this guy might be tiny, but he moves like he knows half a dozen ways to kill you. The cherry on the disaster sundae? Both of them are wearing army fatigues.

Militia. Shit.

“Boys,” he says, already planning on how to get that rocket launcher from the big one, “don’t be stupid.”

The little one doesn’t say anything. The big one laughs and before Jim can move, he’s been pulled out of the car.

“Boss wants to see ya.”

So they have a boss. Who. Who is it? One of their own? Riddler? Penguin? Goddamn Deathstroke? Who is his new problem?

“No.”

“Sorry.” The man does sound mostly sorry. “Not really askin’. C’mon.”

Jim tries to slam his elbow into the man’s collarbone. He doesn’t even really get to move before the little guy grabs his arm and wrenches it behind his back. Not hard enough to dislocate it, but hard enough to be a warning.

“We don’t want to have to hurt you, Commissioner,” the big man says. “We’re just picking you up.”

“Go to Hell.”

A gun presses against his back. Fine. He’ll go. But he won’t like it.

* * *

He’s disarmed, bundled into an APC, and blindfolded. After way too many sharp turns and double-backs, he’s...somewhere in the underside of the city. He’s thinking over near Drescher.

Wherever it is, he’s pulled out of the APC, taken inside somewhere, and handed off to new hands. When the blindfold comes off, his kidnappers are nowhere to be seen.

The men in charge of him now (and only for now, give him time…) are less...unnerving...than the other two. One is wearing the white uniform of a medic, and the other is having a snack. Cashews? Cashews.

The medic is a man on a mission. Jim doesn’t even manage to get out a, ‘you’ll be sorry’ before the man’s turning on his heel, jaw working furiously, and snapping, “Come on.”

“Where are we going.”

“Boss wants to see you, won’t listen to reason. This way.”

He stalks off and the snacker chuckles.

“Cashew?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” They follow the medic down a crumbling hallway. “They didn’t scare you too much, did they?”

“What’s with the good-cop-bad-cop routine?” he demands. “Is your friend up there gonna come back and threaten to carve my face off?”

The man just laughs.

“Probably, but he does that to everyone.”

“Sometime today!”

Huh.

Jim thinks they might be in the old mall. Scarecrow had been driving that way when something had happened, and, well, if Jim were going to have an evil base of operations, this would be a good one. Lot of ways in and out, nobody ever comes down here anymore-too dangerous-and it’s big, big enough to hold tanks and soldiers and whatever else these boys have. When they round a corner, he sees a familiar logo and decides that yes, that’s where they are. Hm.

They round another corner and end up in the back of the building. Jim’s not sure what this was, but there’s a corridor lined with doors. The medic stops in front of one and turns, hands clasped behind his back.

“Twenty minutes and no more,” he snarls at Jim. “You’re lucky you get that many minutes. You try anything, you might live to regret it. Might. You tire him out, out you go, I don’t care if it’s been two minutes. Don’t touch shit, don’t knock shit down, don’t--”

“I think he’s got the picture,” his other escort soothes. “Don’t terrorize him.”

“Humph. With the amount of work I had to put in to keep his dumb ass alive, I’m entitled to terrorize people.”

“Still.”

“And I’ll tell you something else. You lay a finger, one solitary finger on him, you so much as breathe too hard--”

“There won’t be anything left to bury,” the other man says, smiles with all his teeth. “Here you go, Commissioner.”

“Twenty. Minutes.”

And then he’s shoved into a room with--and good God, how--the Arkham Knight.

The Knight is lying in bed. He looks the worse for wear, but Jim can’t quite muster up pity for him. This...this is his fault. Gotham, Bruce, Barbara…

He swallows down the rage. Not because it’s the right thing to do, but because the Knight’s not alone. Jim supposes they wouldn’t just leave him unattended, not with those injuries, but still.

The Knight doesn’t seem to notice Jim. He’s certainly not looking at him. He’s looking at the laptop the other man has. Right now, at this exact second, he looks like a sick kid, wan and tired, eyes fluttering like he’s fighting to stay awake. But he’s not. Robin or not, he’s...the Knight’s not that boy anymore. Robin wouldn’t have done this, any of this. Robin’s dead.

“Sir.” The other man here isn’t wearing a uniform, he’s wearing jeans and a raggedy flannel that hangs open over some sort of band shirt. But his bearing is still that of a soldier’s, and the rifle leaning against the wall by his chair is top-of-the-line. “Gordon’s here.”

“Hrm?”

“Remember? You wanted to see him.” The Knight blinks a few times, heavy and confused, and tries to lever himself up before his companion reaches over to pin his shoulder. “Don’t do that.”

More confused silence. Now that he’s moved his head, Jim can see his pupils are blown wide. That’s not a surprise. He’s pretty sure he was in Arkham when it came down, and he hadn’t looked well before that.

Serves him right, he thinks, remembering the cuts on Barbara’s cheeks and chin. Serves the bastard right.

He keeps his mouth shut. The laptop has been closed and set aside, and the rifle is now in its owner’s lap. It’s casual enough, but the threat’s there all the same: you’ll go through me to get to him.

He wonders, a bit, what drives these men. He doesn’t really care, but he wonders a little all the same. Even the ones in the cells have been resolute that ‘the boss’ will get them out, that he’s got everything in hand, just you wait and see.

...in their defense, Jim had thought he had to be dead, and yet here he is. So.

“S’right,” the Knight finally breathes. He sounds terrible, and Jim suddenly matches the purple swelling on his throat to handprints. That scares him. Not out of pity or sympathy, but because what little he’s seen of the man says he can handle himself. Whoever did that… “S’right.”

“You up for it?”

He’d better be. Jim was kidnapped off the street for this.

“Yes.” Good. “Glad to see you’re unharmed.”

No thanks to you, Jim doesn’t snap, resolutely ignores the memory of the Knight holding up his hands and telling Scarecrow, voice painfully earnest, to take him and let Jim and his men and Robin leave in one piece. He settles for a curt nod, can’t quite muster up a, wish I could say the same.

The Knight pulls in a painful-sounding breath and drops his head to the side.

“Bring up the footage for Commissioner Gordon, would you?”

“Yessir.” The laptop returns, balanced delicately over the rifle. Jim doesn’t know if he wants to know what’s going on. “Hang on...give it a sec to load…”

The Knight moves and visibly bites back a wince, but the new angle means that Jim can see the full extent of the bruising on his neck.

“There we go--you okay, boss?”

“Ribs,” he breathes. “They don’t like it when people zipline into them.”

What.

“Need me to call--”

“No.” He swallows hard and beckons Jim closer. “M’fine. Just sore. And stiff.” He clears his throat, grimacing. “You worry too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount.”

“M’just not used to being still this long--”

“Deal,” his friend says sharply. The Knight just grins, but that annoys the other guy. “Did you miss the flatline bit?”

“Technically?”

“I--never mind.” He makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Never mind...okay, all set.”

He turns the laptop around and Jim hesitates before perching on the very edge of the bed. Nothing terrible happens to him.

“This is footage from my helmet. How it kept going after that level of trauma, I’ll never know, but my IT department managed to recover it remotely.”

The footage picks up in a dark area, abandoned sewer network or something, probably, and it’s glitchy and stuttery.

Bruce has been caught on camera before, but not like this. This is...savage, animalistic. He comes out of nowhere, dodging gunfire and seemingly oblivious to the shouts of surprise, and moves in via a flying kick to the camera itself, which goes white and static-y for a second. A few of them come up behind him and suffer backhands and powerful kicks for their troubles, and then Bruce fills up the frame, shoulders positioned like he’s got his arms out and...and...

He looks at the Knight, looks at the bruises around his neck, and looks back at the screen in time to see Bruce going down and being dragged backwards.

“He do this to you?”

The look the man gives him is so reminiscent of the little boy Jim remembers that it makes his head spin. It screams, I know you’re not really that stupid...right?

“Well, I didn’t do it to myself.”

“--okay, sir, I’m just gonna…”

The helmet moves and Jim spots the medic from earlier before it gets set on the ground, facing Bruce. Bruce is chained to a pipe, seemingly unconscious.

“Don’t talk, just nod. Can you breathe okay?”

There’s an obvious cut--they don’t want to share it all, apparently--and then Bruce stirs and starts...giggling. Jim knows that giggle.

“What the hell.”

The Knight shudders and burrows under his blankets.

“It’s complicated. We’re reasonably sure he’s been eliminated, or at the very least contained, but--” A hand moves, presumably indicating himself. “I made it out. He might have, too.”

His friend closes his laptop and sets it aside.

“We’ve got teams sweeping Arkham’s grounds to the best of our ability,” he says. “Unfortunately, we are not a rescue team and as such are not fully equipped to handle the more unstable areas. That said, given the police department’s...track record...we would very much prefer that your men stay out of our way until we either find the individual formerly known as the Batman, or definitively confirm his demise. We’re hoping that at the very least, any injuries he may have sustained slowed him down, but we can’t prove that, given the lack of video footage for the incident.”

“It’s our understanding that Batman has, at least for the time being, lost his fight against the effects of J.” The Knight swallows. “Of Joker’s blood. I attempted to contain him--”

“Contain, my ass,” his friend grumbles. The Knight ignores him.

“I attempted to contain him,” he says again, “via...ah…”

“He blew up the goddamn asylum with himself and Batman inside,” comes the sharp interjection. “In case you managed to miss that.”

Jim had not managed to miss that, thank you very much.

“I noticed,” he says dryly. The Knight huffs a painful-sounding laugh and falls silent.

There’s. There’s a lot Jim wants to say. The Knight was Robin, and Joker killed him (and made sure they all knew it, that tape, good God, he’d sent it to everyone and Jim remembers Dove bursting into tears when she tried to tell him), but he’s not dead now, and look at what he’s done.

Much as he’d like to demand answers--or at least bring half of that up--he won’t. He doubts the man with the laptop will react well; now that he really looks, the man’s tense, clearly poised to move if he has to.

Jim can probably take him. He absolutely can’t take the others that will come at the commotion.

There’s a small dinging sound, and silence, and then an urgent, “Sir. Sir.”

“Hrm?”

“We got something.”

The Knight blinks a few times before half-surging up and demanding, “Let’s go, let’s go, then, help me up--”

“Chair or Trent?”

“Neither--”

“Chair or Trent.”

“Chair,” he grumbles after a second. “But I can walk on my own--”

“Yeah, but if the doc sees you, he’ll be mad. Here it is.”

Jim moves, semi-prepared to offer to help but not really wanting to, but they must have a system, because the Knight’s in the chair with a blanket in short order.

“I feel like a cheap Bond villain,” he’s complaining now. “One that rolls down a ramp into an electrified pool or something.”

“Maybe next time, you’ll consider your life choices, sir.”

“They weren’t supposed to come back to haunt me!”

“I know, sir.”

“Christ...what do we have.”

Should he…? Sure, apparently.

What a day. He needs a drink. A good strong one.

“My understanding is it’s better seen than explained, sir. No body, I don’t think.”

“Fantastic...the bastard’ll survive anything.”

Jim privately thinks the same applies to him, but he doesn’t share that thought. He doubts it will go over well.

The computer room isn’t crammed full of people. There’s one guy on the monitors and another one-one of the ones from before, actually, the one with the cashews-lounging in a chair next to him, drinking a Coke.

“What’s going on, you said something turned up--” He doesn’t quite hide a shiver, but when the other people in the room zero in on him, he shakes his head and insists, “M’fine.”

“Boss, I can link this to a laptop if you’re s’posed to be in bed--”

“M’fine. Pull up the footage.”

“You’re not gonna like it,” monitor-guy says, spinning around and wheeling over to make room. “Looks like he got out, same as you.”

“Seriously?”

“Would I joke when it mattered, sir? Here, look. See this?” He makes the screen bigger. “That look familiar to you?”

It certainly looks familiar to Jim. Bruce’s cowl is difficult to mistake, and there it is, crumpled in the rubble. It’s singed, and one of the ears is broken, but it is Bruce’s cowl.

“Damn,” the Knight breathes, and...Jim doesn’t like admitting it, not after tonight, but...he looks so young. A scared little boy, that’s all. “That’s not good.”

“What do we do, sir?”

“We don’t even know for sure if he’s out.” The Knight’s friend leans over the chair to get a better look at the monitor. “Maybe he tried getting out and died, we don’t--”

“I made it out,” the Knight says quietly.

There’s a wave of annoyed grumbling that includes at least one, ‘self-sacrificing dumbass’ and a, ‘in spite of your best efforts’. Jim has to wonder about that one. He can’t muster up that much sympathy, but he does wonder.

The Knight just sighs and adjusts his blanket around his shoulders.

“Fair. Anyways, seeing as I found a way out, it’s not unlikely that he’s done the same, barring the. The possibility of an instant death. I suspect we wound up in a pocket, though, so.”

“You didn’t notice anything on your way out?” Jim demands. “Was he right with you?”

“I was--”

“Concussed and bleeding to death,” a new voice snaps. “And in no shape to be walking, let alone note-taking. What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

“Briefing the--”

“Literally anybody else can do that.” The angry voice belongs to the medic from before. “You don’t seem to understand what ‘flatline’ means, sir, or maybe you’ve just got a death wish, but tough fucking titty, said the kitty, you’re not dying on my watch. Say bye-bye to the commissioner, you’re going back to bed and staying there or on God, I’ll put you in a coma and keep you there until you don’t have so much as a bruise. Do I make myself clear?”

Jim expects argument. None of the Robins ever let Batman boss them around to that extent, and he knows damn well that if he’d backtalked his superiors like that, he’d be in, frankly, deep shit. But the Knight just sighs.

“He’s been here long enough, anyway.” Long enough for what? “Keep your men out of our way, Commissioner. No offense, but Batman existed for a reason. You can’t handle him.”

Jim bristles.

“Can’t handle--”

“You know it’s true,” he snaps, and straightens up, turns to the man with the cashews. “Call everyone back.” All of a sudden that’s no longer a little boy playing Soldiers. That’s the man that crippled Gotham within hours. “I want everyone off the streets and back at base, now. Do not engage under any circumstances.”

“Yessir.”

“Get into the street cameras,” he continues. “If a rat comes out of a sewer, I want to see it. I want whatever drones we have left out and searching, but leave the car alone. That hasn’t worked so far and I’m not losing more--”

He must breathe wrong, because he suddenly starts coughing, harsh, violent whoops from down in his chest.

“Get him back to bed,” the medic orders once the coughs cease. “Or he’ll be Snow White and believe you me, nobody is getting in here to kiss him awake.”

“Jones--”

“We can handle this, sir. We’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“But--”

“You trained us for this, remember? We’re professionals.”

The Knight falls silent, one hand still pressed against his ribs, and finally melts back into his chair.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Bye, commish.”

He doesn’t recognize the men that take him back. The streets are empty, though, barring the patrolling drones, and they make it back to the GCPD unscathed.

Unfortunately, Jim returns to, quite frankly, a disaster. The officers on duty are tied up, and the militia cells are empty. Not a man left. He’s just freeing Cash when the broadcast screen crackles and the Knight appears on it, face serious.

“I mean it, Commissioner,” he says. “Keep out of the way, or I’ll put you in a cell instead.”

“You--”

“Tell Bullock hey for me, would ya?” He leans forward. “Stay safe.”

Click.

THE END

*I’m figuring Bane is bigger than the Giant Mooks because his boss fight consists of you jumping on him to slash his Venom tubes AND because he can and will run you over, while Giant Mooks of any affiliation are not rideable and don’t run.

[jinmukangwrites]

Good Deeds

Day 5 of Batfamweek2020 / Identity Reveal / @official-batfam-week

Summary: Scarecrow breaks out of Arkham again, but this time he’s not messing around.

Day late but oh well!

AO3

-o-o-o-o-

Dick’s pacing. It’s driving Tim insane, especially since he was literally shot less than a day before and shouldn’t be standing let alone pacing. But there’s nothing he can do about it. No one besides Alfred or Bruce can get Dick to sit still, and one is in England visiting his grandchildren and the other is the cause of the pacing.

It’s a Scarecrow attack. A massive one. One that has caused an all-hands-on-deck protocol. It’s almost like all the other break-outs, all the other new toxins and new tactics, was all for practice. For the first time in a long time, Scarecrow is a genuine threat and not a normal occurrence, no more unpredictable than a five day forecast. This week he’s been an unseen storm, spreading a toxin so potent and persistent that it’s victims are rendered screaming and clawing at their eyes on the floor for hours on end until their hearts stop.

Tim hasn’t found a vaccine yet, and the catch-all vaccine every hospital, bat, and first-aid kit carries is only slowing the mortality rate, placing patients in coma-like states to await the promise of an actual vaccine that actually works. Hospitals are scrambling and Tim has been doing nothing but test after test while the others all went out to find Scarecrow and his army of thugs he has somehow accumulated.

Tim snarls when once again his current attempt at a vaccine fails against the samples they have gathered and slams the beaker onto the table hard enough to wobble the other vials and glasses resting on the same surface. It feels like Scarecrow has finally perfected his formula and it’s setting every single one of Tim’s nerves on fire. 

Dick stops his pacing and then hobbles over towards Tim with a worried expression. Tim almost wants to shove him back onto the medical bed and strap him down to keep him from agitating the hole in his side even more, but his body betrays him as he leans into Dick’s sudden embrace.

“It will be fine,” Dick says, “you got this, little bird.”

Tim shakes his head and forces himself to break the embrace and return to his work. “Has B responded yet?”

Dick doesn’t reply and Tim bites his lip.

Batman went off grid hours ago. No response on the comms, no emergency signal, no signal at all. Last any of them knew, Bruce was checking out a suspected haunt for Scarecrow, but when he stopped responding and Orphan and Spoiler went to check the haunt out, they came back empty handed.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Dick says, more to himself than Tim.

And then the routine continues, Dick pacing and hovering his hand over the comms, listening to every single thing that’s said, hoping for word on Bruce, while Tim changes his formula and compares it to past formulas and tries again.

A couple hours pass, and Tim’s just finishing up his next attempt as Dick’s finally collapsed onto the chair in front of the bat-computer, simply listening to the limited amount of chatter going on from Damian, Cass, Steph, Duke, and Jason over the comms as they check possible haunts one by one and Oracle works to sift through every kind of signal going off in Gotham that’s not civilian cellular or police/bat frequencies. Most of the haunts are just traps, similar to what Dick fell into the day before, nothing there but a bunch of grunts with guns. No one has gotten hurt yet, but there’s been multiple times one of the members have had to cut off to fight a battle with a dozen or so gunmen, leaving the others in a tense silence that has Tim cutting off his comm completely, relying on Dick to update him every so often.

At least it makes the injured man feel a little helpful. Dick’s smart, but not the best choice to help Tim out with complicated science. He’s injured, so no use out on the battlefield. The most Tim can do is let Dick man the comms and update sometimes. Plus, Tim’s sure it’s relieving some of Dick’s stress as well, he hasn’t verbalized it yet but Tim’s sure he feels horrible not being out there with the others right now.

Then, suddenly, Dick jumps up from the chair and whips his hands across the keyboard of the computer, a concerned crease to his eyebrows that has Tim placing his formula down and walking near the shoulder of the first Robin.

“Jason says to check the cable,” Dick explains in a rush.

Tim’s just about ask why but Dick finally connects the computer to the satellite and Tim feels his stomach drop.

Broadcasting on live TV on every channel in Gotham is an image of a man tied to a chair, leaning forward and panting slightly. The ropes of the chair are close to the only thing holding the man up. There’s nothing else to see in the feed, the area around the man is black, and there’s no noise besides the heavy, labored breathing.

The man is Batman.

Tim quickly turns his comms back on to be met with the chaos of multiple family members all trying to talk over each other.

Jason is arguing towards a frantic Damian that he saw the feed walking past a television shop and Steph is rambling about other places they could check to find Bruce while Duke argues that they’ve already checked everywhere. Cass is silent, but Tim’s phone vibrates with the notification of a text with the simple words of he’s very hurt.

Tim ignores the arguing to look back at the feed. Cass can notice details that no one else can, and the suit and armor makes it hard to see any kind of injuries besides the sight of a purpling bruise on Bruce’s jaw. He gives off the vibe of being more hurt than that though, so he’ll take Cass’s word for it.

Suddenly, Barbara’s voice snaps for everyone to shut up. Never one to anger Barbara Gordon, the entire line goes silent.

“I’m tracking the signal as we speak,” Oracle hisses over the line, “so all of you shut up and keep looking. We’re wasting time arguing-“

Suddenly, there’s a change on the feed that has everyone silencing for a whole new reason. Batman looks up, past the camera, towards something behind it and narrows his eyes. There’s someone else there, and something is about to happen.

Tim swallows his growing fear as Scarecrow himself enters the screen, costume as freaky as ever with the noose tie and potato sack head, with a wide gaping smile cut jaggedly and held together with twine.

“Fear is often brought with the unknown,” Scarecrow says, his voice sounding raspy and light. He stops and stands behind Batman, spindly fingers laying down on the hero’s shoulders. “So I won’t spoil you all with a monologue.”

Tim and Dick share a glance.

“Babs, please tell me you can cut the feed,” Dick says into the comm piece in his ear. Barbara begins to snap that she’s working on it and Tim can only watch helplessly as Scarecrow continues.

“So I have one thing to say,” the villain brings a hand up to the top of Batman’s cowl and bunches up the fabric ever so slowly, leaving Tim to wonder how he managed to bypass the security measures that would stop any common crook from touching the mask. The grin on Scarecrow’s face seems to widen as he leans forward and Batman’s jaw pops with the man stubbornly grinding his teeth.

“Who’s afraid of the Big. Bad. Bat.”

The cowl is ripped off so quickly afterwards that it almost leaves Tim gasping. Bruce Wayne’s blue eyes glare at the camera for a moment before he growls at the wheezing-with-laughter Scarecrow as the villain begins to walk off the screen. The image of Bruce glaring off screen, refusing to say a thing, plays for a minute longer before the feed finally cuts off. Barbara gives a frustrated yell saying she’s lost the signal completely. Damian begins to practically screech for her to do better while Jason helpfully puts in that ooh Joker is not going to like this and Tim can only look at Dick as the man continues to watch the blank screen with wide eyes and a fist pressed against his mouth.

It’s not the first time one of their own has been revealed on live television. Dick’s had it happen to himself when the Crime Syndicate captured him. Tim can only imagine what’s going on inside his head.

Tim quickly backs up from the screen and turns his comms back off, doing the only thing he can do right now, and that’s figure out the anti-toxin so no more people have to be literally scared to death.

As the next fails too, he places both his hands flat against the table and sucks in a shaking breath.

Batman’s identity is revealed, which means it’s only a matter of time before each and every other bat is soon figured out. None of his vaccines are showing any kind of progress, and he’s running out of samples to test his failures on. Nightwing is injured and the other’s are all at risk of joining him the more villains and traps they run head first into.

How are they going to get out of this one?

[ficklefics]

Friends Like These - Chapter Twenty-Six: Allies

Nothing ever goes quite to plan.

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Taglist: @hexqueensupreme @gothamiscool 

Chapter Warnings: Shooting, murder, stabbing

Footsteps. Coming towards the room. We scurry away from the centre of the room. I hide the knife under my skirt just as the door opens and Jerome is thrown inside. Automatically, without thinking, I fall to his side. His face is bloody. He groans as he opens his eyes which immediately fix on me. “Hey there.” When he chuckles blood bubbles between his lips, a droplet rolling down the side of his face from the corner of his mouth. I help him sit up then jolt away, as I realise what I’m doing. Shit.

“Miss Quinzel, if you would come with us?” I am not grabbed, or forced, or even touched. But I don’t have a choice. The man who spoke gestures to the corridor beyond the open door, as though I’m expected at an appointment, as though there aren’t men pointing guns at us. “What do you want with her? With any of us?” I look at Penguin from the corner of my eye, confused that he seemed to be standing up for me. The guard ignored him and asks me again. “Miss Quinzel? Now, if you would.” I nod and head for the door; as I do I brush past Barbara, slipping the knife into her hand. Hopefully, they won’t notice. I feel the man’s hand slip to the small of my back and have to resist the urge to slap him. “Hey! Wait!” I glance over my shoulder to see Jerome scrambling to his feet and run at the door as it closes, hiding him from view. I can hear him beating against it as I am lead away.

*

I’m taken to a room, bare walls, a desk, one seat behind it and one in front. The one behind the desk is occupied by a man who I don’t recognise. I take the one opposite. “So, Miss Quinzel.” He leans forward and opens a file sitting in front of him. I catch a glimpse of my own face, but the notes and information are illegible. “Can I call you Harleen?” “No.” “Harleen.” I grimace. “Do you know who I am?” “Should I?” I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe not.” He laughs, flipping a page in the file. “Look, why are we all here? What do you want with us?” “Well, you see, Harleen,” He continues talking as he reads, occasionally glancing up and smiling at me, perhaps to be comforting. It just makes me hate him more. “You’re a special case.” “As per usual,” I sigh, slumping down in the chair. “Ah, yes.” Another laugh. “You’ve had quite the time of it these few months.” “Hurry up and explain.” I’d rather not have a chat about my life with a man who seems to have orchestrated a mass kidnapping of criminals and… well, me. “Of course. You see, you weren’t part of the plan.” “I do that a lot.” I can’t resist the urge to be sarcastic. It’s in my DNA. He keeps going. “We wanted Valeska, and you just happened to be in the way. Any other nurse, we would have killed, but you…” He pauses, examining me. I try to keep my face steady, calm, not giving anything away, but my mind is going at a million miles an hour; all I can think about is if it had been anyone else on the ward, if it had been Molly. “You’re quite a special girl, Harleen. Lots of people are very interested in you. And I think, we can help each other.” “Why on earth would I want to help you? You kidnapped me.” “You want rid of Jerome Valeska, don’t you?” The question makes me freeze. Do I? I should. Logically, I should want him out of my life. But… “We – I and my… company – want to rid Gotham of its worst criminals. Valeska, Penguin, the Riddler, Tetch, Scarecrow, Barbara Kean. Even more hopefully.” “You’ve already done that, though. What do you need with me?” I don’t know if I would betray Jerome. If betray is the right word. But until I decide, the more information I can get the better. “Making them disappear is one thing. But an example must be made. And what an example it would be, if you were to be seen by all of Gotham, killing your terroriser?” “I came pretty close already. All it got me was therapy and a dog.” I stand up, crossing my arms. “I’m not gonna work with you. Never mind Jerome, Penguin and Nygma both saved my life. I won’t work against them.” “Are you sure about that?” “Yes.” “And what if I had more information?” Not good. “Such as information about your family?” I sit down with a thud. “What? What have you done with them?” “Nothing. Yet.” He slides over a series of photos of me. Taken outside of my parents’ house, their work, even of Wren at the airport. My hands start to shake. “So, you see your predicament?” “Yes. I do.” “So you will help us?” I throw the photos back onto the desk. “I’ll think about it,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “I’m so glad.” He stands, gesturing towards the door. One of the guards takes my arm and leads me out, back to the cell where the others are waiting for me.

This time I am not thrown in. I am allowed to walk inside on my own and the door is slammed shut and locked behind me. The group are scattered around the edge of the room, but my eyes brush over everyone to focus on Jerome. He’s sulking on a cot. I would laugh, but the fear for my family was enveloping my mind. “What happened?” Barbara stands up, quick to interrogate me. “Change of plans. You guys break out, I’m staying.” “What, why?” I turn to Penguin, shaking my head. “They’re threatening my family. If I don’t do what they want…” He deflates. Something flickers behind his eyes, some recognition, and he nods. “No.” Jerome stands up. “No?” “No.” He’s staring at me, eyes dark, angry. “You’re not giving up just like that.” “I can’t let my family get hurt because of me.” “And they won’t. Change of plans.” The rest of the room raise their heads to look at him, Crane tilting his questioningly. “You lot, stick to what we agreed: Get to Penguin’s. And we -” He nods at me, “- Will get your family out of Gotham.” “And how do you suggest we do that?” I ask, cynical. “Your family have money, right?” I nod, not understanding where he’s going with this. “Private jet?” “Yeah…” “Rich people.” He mutters, rolling his eyes. I get it. “Okay. So we get to a payphone, call them, get them out of the country.” “Where to?” Barbara asks. “We have a lodge in Norway. It’s out of the way, safe.” “Alright. Let’s go then.” Barbara hands the dagger back to me and I take it, examining my reflection in the blade. It’s warped, twisted in the metal, but blue eyes stare back at me: anxious, afraid, angry. Determined.

The room rises as one as I stand against the door, one ear pressed against it, listening for any sign of a guard. The action sparks memories of the last time I did this; the key difference being that Jerome is on this side of the door. I don’t hear anything. “Ready?” I murmur, the word still loud in the silence of the room. They nod. I try the handle – it doesn’t shift, of course – then reach into my hair. I guess they weren’t too worried about hairpins. I kneel in front of the lock and begin to fiddle with it, listening and feeling for the shifting of the pins inside. There’s clicking, things shift. The tension in the room is palpable. I hope, pray to whatever luck there might be.

It gives way.

The lock opens, the door swinging easily with the barest touch of my hand. There’s no one outside. Lucky. I stand and turn to the others. “Right.” I could make some grandiose speech, try to raise spirits, inspire anger. But I don’t need to. And I can’t. Whatever words I might have are stuck in my throat. “We don’t have much time. Hurry.” Penguin is the first out, quickly followed by the others. Jerome is last. We go the other way from them. We hurry down the corridor together, not quite running. We come to a set of stairs and follow them up. It’s the room from before, with the vats, except this time we’re above them, on the catwalks. We slow down. Our footsteps clang on the metal, the sound echoing. I hate the silence between us but I can’t think of anything to say. I don’t want to want to talk to him. But I do. And I don’t even hate myself for it. From here I can see that the vats are filled with some liquid, which bubbles and bursts and hisses at us. “Careful.” “Eh, I’ve never been much for careful.” Jerome doesn’t seem to be capable of whispering. Then again, subtlety was not his strong suit. “I’m pretty sure that’s acid. If you fall, you’re fucked.” I roll my eyes at him, leading the way onto the metal. There’s light filtering through dingy windows above us. Maybe that means it’s daytime. But with my luck, it will be the last moments of sunset giving me false hope.

We’re halfway across the catwalks, heading for the stairs opposite us when an alarm blares; I guess they’ve noticed we’re missing. “Move!” Jerome yells, but I’m already running. He’s right behind me. Shouting surrounds us but I don’t look back. It wouldn’t help. I yelp and duck as gunshots go off, ricocheting around the room. Jerome’s and wraps around my arm and keeps me running. We reach the top of the stairs just at the moment Jerome falls with a grunt, toppling over and careening down the metal steps. “Jerome!” I hurry after him, taking the steps two at a time in a desperate effort to catch up to him. He crumples into a heap at the bottom. There’s blood oozing from a wound in his leg. “Just go. Get out of here,” He groans, trying and failing to stand. “Absolutely not.” I force him to his feet and drag him to the doors that are only a few metres away. I kick them open and freeze. A man, just one, stands with a gun pointed at us. His eyes dart between me and Jerome, clearly trying to decide who the bigger threat is. I make a split-second decision. My hand moves almost involuntarily, taking the dagger and driving it into his side in one fluid motion. It’s me or him. His shock is evident as he grips his side and stumbles, looking at the blood staining his clothes and skin. I don’t let him recover, pushing him aside and pulling Jerome past him. We’re outside – it’s dark. We hurry as fast as we can with Jerome’s injury, moving away from the building which still blares with alarms. I glance behind us, noticing the brightly lit sign: ‘Ace Chemicals’. I know where we are. And I know how to get into the city from here.

“Come on.” Jerome is still hobbling. I know I’ll need to look at his leg soon. But once we’re away. Once we’re safe.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

[aileysmirnov]

◇◆Ailey Villains Gallery: Scarecrow◇◆

Scarecrow's face claim: Adrien Brody

Secret vs Scarecrow! How did they met?

Ailey (Secret) and Scarecrow met 'thanks' to Batman:

One night in Gotham, Scarecrow infiltrated the Iceberg Lounge with the intention to Kill some of Penguin's Henchmen.

With a more "upgraded" (and letal) version of his fear gas.

Just as a way to send a message to Oswald who had stolen some of his gas and now was selling it for a very high price on the dark market.

To prevent Batman from intervening, Scarecrow convinced Riddler and Dr Pig to create a "distraction" (if murdering almost 11 people between the two and then make an "spectacle" about it, can be called like that) for the Bat.

And unfortunately when the "Caped Crusader" realized it was a trap (thanks to one of Riddler's "funny" riddles) he was already too far from the building.

Too far from stopping Scarecrow.

He analyzed all of his options pretty fast: he couldn't send Damian, he was with him, Dick was in Blüdhaven, He already send Tim after Riddler and Steph after Pig, Cass and Barbara where in another state with the Birds of prey, Duke and Kate where teaming up to solve a crime involving a new rising homicidal cult and Jason…he wasn't in good terms with Jason…again…and he losed his track at least 2 weeks ago.

And so…he reluctantly took the phone and dialed the number of the one person he could think of.

Ailey was doing the usual: shouting angrily and throwing a tantrum towards her employees (like the good little tyrant she is) for a last minute cancellation of 4 of the stellar models for the upcoming Winter collection of SVELLYO. When all of a sudden she received a call from the one and only: Bruce fucking Wayne.

—B! What a perfect timing! Is not bothersome at all!—she remarked the words sarcastically annoyed a tone that sounded like the venomous hissing of a snake.

—Listen Ailey, I don't have time for thi-

She cut him off

—What a coincidence! Neither do I, B's man! Byee~

—Ailey…—He didn't shout at her but his more menacing (than usually) tone, make her feel like he did; it was a voice tone that Bruce normally just used when he was with Joker and when he used it. Oh boy, You just knew the man ain't taking any shit.

—Listen to me. And listen. C A R E F U L L Y. Scarecrow is in the Iceberg Lounge it's 2 minutes away from you by flying. I need you to go after him and prevent whatever he's up to against Cobblepot.—He said a little more ""nicer"" (if it's even possible) this time, but still with a hint of frustration in his voice.

—yeah…well…I also need this little favor, B—Bruce was about to fucking lose it in that moment, there where lives in danger and this CHILD was just thinking of herself!! But before he could lash out at her with a "I'm dissapointed" speech; Damian took the phone.

—He said he'll do it, you have my word. Now…Go! —Robin said without thinking twice

—Thank you, my zelenyy*! I'm on my way! —and with an Angry Bruce Lashing out at every single thing on earth on the background, Ailey hanged up, wrote a quick note to his secretary, asking him to give all of her employees a rise (including him, of course) and sprinted out to SVELLYO's roof top; without a word to the perplexed staff.

Once she stood there.She could feel the cold night breeze hitting her face and without any doubt she jumped abruptly from one of the highest points in the city.

Her eyes opened at the middle of his falling, adrenaline and renewed energy cursing trough her veins, her blonde hair replaced with a glowing rose gold, a metalic blue growing in her gaze and her outfit conveniently transformed on an all black bodysuit with slight hints of gold on the bottom of her sleeves.

His whole body defying gravity, flying through the night sky with the same grace and glory of a swan and leaving a subtle trace of light glowing pink as she passed by.

She arrived at the Iceberg Lounge back entrance at least 5 seconds earlier from what Batman had predicted.

Penguin's henchmen where all gathered in what appeared to be a small cellar on the very back of the casino, they were complaining about an out of the blue"meeting".

Secret (Ailey) assumed it was Scarecrow's way to get them all in the same place and avoid any unnecessary complications.

With extreme caution she stood and watched near the skylight, trying to fade away her own slightly glowing nature with the moonlight.

Her eyes searched quickly inside the room, ans she soon spotted atleast 6 gas tanks oddly put in some of the poorly lighted corners of the cellar.

But no sign of the maniac

Or so she though until the abrupt pain in her neck and the obscure presence behind her sooner than later make her realize; she wasn't alone.

She could feel the infernal pain from the toxin filling his lungs and cutting her breath and her vision becoming a little bit dizzy.

—You should know better than spying on people, dear…It might not end up being what you expected—his voice was deep and unforgiving, a condescending tone and the weight of countless sleepless nights leaked through every word.

She tried to speak but only felt her throat closing.

—Now, now, dear…all will end up soon. —His tall and lanky figure covered by worn out clothes to match his own psychotic aesthetic made him look intimidating. And without any glimpse of empathy he proceeded to toss her body aside with a kick like if she was a filthy dead rat, and continue to watch expectantly to the ignorant henchmen above.

He was waiting, waiting for one of them to foolishly reveal where his beloved toxin was and after a couple of minutes one of them casually mentioned a secret basement where the most important items waited patiently for whoever was able to afford his almost ridiculously expensive price.

Crane smiled wickedly to himself…he had just what he wanted…almost.

He activated the slightly hidden tanks of fear gas and watched in admiration as some of the henchmen faces started to change into a horrified expression.

—Head's up, asshole!—He didn't even had time to process the situation properly, when Secret's hands where at both sides of his head, the tip of her fingers illuminated and emanating Rose gold strings of pure energy attaching themselves to Crane's mind.

And at that exact moment he remembered: the pain, the panic, the fear.

The very first time he tested his toxin, was on himself: he was laying in to that dirty old shack for what felt like an eternity; he screamed and begged and yet the hallucinations didn't leave him, his mind was racing with the most horrible thought it could possibly even consider, everything so real and yet so distant. He felt hopeless.

And the delicate strings clinging tight around his mind. Lord, what a bittersweet nostalgia! He felt the same, the same way as the first time, he could hear the screams, the voices, the endless discontent. But couldn't find anything around him…just…hollow and for some strange reason…that scared the shit out of him.

Ironically it had been years since the last time Crane felt genuine fear.

When Crane woke up, he was already in that horrible place: a worn out cell from Arkham

But strangely he didn't feel any kind of anger or frustration. No…he felt…elated in the best way possible almost like if he had reborn!

And so…he stood there; staring blankly at the small window with an almost devilish smile across his face.

Waiting for the next encounter

◆◇◆◇

Ailey felt so proud of herself, she had successfully managed to knock out Scarecrow, control the gas leak and save Penguin's henchmen! All alone! And even took the liberty to recover all of Crane's toxin samples Penguin had!

She couldn't wait to see Bruce's face, Oh that man owed her BIG TIME!

When Bruce and Damian finally arrived at the Batcave, he was welcomed by her.

She looked like a 10 year-old who approved one of his test and was proudly showing off the paper to his parents.

Wich made Bruce smile…a little (even if he doesn't admit to it)

—See? You can trust me, B!—she said handing him the samples.

—So you send him to Arkham? Hmm…honestly I didn't though you'll made it…but good job…I guess…?—Damian admitted, while taking off his mask.

—Well, I'm glad I'm not THAT disappointing, sir! —Her tone expressing the sarcasm and slight frustration and offence in every word. Which Damian only replayed with a faint little smile.

—…Good Job, Ailey…—Bruce spoke for the first time since they arrived

—…and thank you for your help…—He completed with a slightly more """friendly""" tone (which just means less stiffness in his voice but still maintaining his authoritarian tone)

—yeah…well…don't thank me yet…we had a deal!—She said while playfully floating around him and touching the ears of his Bat-suit; Bruce could only do as much as to touching the bridge of his nose trying to contain his very obvious nuisance.

—…What do want? —He said sighing heavily.

—Nothing much, really! I want You, Damian, Dick and Katy modeling for SVELLYO winter collection catwalk, next week! —

◆◇◆◇

OMG! That was fun! I was going to put a small and cute little drawing of Ailey touching the ears of the Bat-suit but I still haven't finished yet! So yeah…I will edit it once I have it done!

Anyway! I loved writing this, and I will be uploading more content for Ailey, wich now she has her official anti-hero name! And is called

🥁🥁🥁🥁

Secret!

Shout out to @melyaliz / @insideoflit for the name idea! I honestly struggle so much with names 😅

Thanks to @Shiro.GURu (on insta) for helping me with this! Love ya, girl <3

Tagging: @lobodesaturno @snowflake2sstuff @lord-carstairs @weam0theblueblues @morefarthanaway

[rason-rodd]

Trusting (’Begging’ part2) (Arkham Knight! Jason xReader)

Summary: Guilt is haunting you as you remember the things you’ve done until Jason shows up into your room. 

Warning: Language, Graphic Violence, Mentions of sex, PTSD, Anxiety

Author’s note: Another long chapter that follows the event of Begging but with a series of flashbacks included. I plan on writing 3 or 4 parts for this fanfic. Texts in Italics are flashbacks.

Tagged: @usernightwing, @queen-fighter, @anaboo-thewriter, @piratefrost, (WHO ELSE WANT TO BE TAGGED?)

(PART 1)

The pollen was still dancing in the air on that night. And all around you smelled like fresh flowers and plants mixed to a thick cloud of pollution that you could only smell in Gotham. The war between the Dark Knight and the Arkham Knight was over. Scarecrow was still in jail, victim of his own evil doing, Cobblepot and Dent in neighbouring cells. And Bruce … Bruce was dead. The Batman was dead.   And Gotham was slowly drowning again under a wave of crime that was growing more and more each day.       Thugs had retaken the darkness of the streets, terrorising families and innocents and the incarceration of the most famous crime lords had permitted the rise of some others. Among them, Roman Sionis aka Black Mask.

He had taken control of the docks, made them the key point of his business. Drugs. Weapons. Dirty money. He had his filthy hands on everything. A smart businessman. But a smart business who was drawing too much attention. A smart businessman with a target on his back.

Aiming at that target, the Red Hood. That’s the name he had chosen. But you knew who was really underneath that crimson mask. Jason Todd. Robin. or also more recently known as The Arkham Knight. You had never met him, just heard stories, some anecdotes that Dick had spilled with a saddened melancholic smile that was now almost frozen on his young face or some rumours whispered in the streets. A dangerous man undoubtedly. But a broken man above all.

You had built a plan, Dick, Barbara, Tim and you, a plan the young Robin had characterised as “well put together”. It never sounded “well put together” to you though or to Dick. But you had volunteered to make it a success anyway and thus whatever the means. You just had to meet him. And what better place than Crime Alley to do it.

High heels, beautiful dress, a young woman coming back home alone.  Yes, that night you were the perfect bait. So tempting, so attractive. “ Hey baby, where are you going like that?” And so easy to take.             “Home.”         “ Want us to escort you? The night is dangerous” You glanced at both men, tightening you hands around your purse to look a bit scared. Bu you were not scared. Not even a bit. After all, you had been trained. You were the new Batgirl, even though you didn’t like carrying someone else’s name.             “No need, but thanks.” You retorted but a man grasped your arm rather brutally.  “Don’t touch me!” You shouted as you immediately took a pepper spray out of your bag. Tim’s idea. Makes you look more like a Gotham damsel in distress. If a pepper spray were useful everybody would know it. ”Look, mate. Kitty’s got claws”       “ I think she’s threatening us.”  They both came closer to you and, as you walked backwards, you fell down on your bottom, dropping the spray. You didn’t mean to. “Down on the ground? Very good.” One of them unzipped his pants and you immediately closed your eyes. You didn’t want to see this.

BANG BANG.

Echoing like thunder in the alley.     And blood poured on your face and on your body like a hot summer rain. And both men fell like birds stricken by lightning, by fate wearing a red hood.

You opened your eyes very carefully. What a horrific vision. Agonizing men on the floor, moaning, crying, chocking in their blood, castrated by two efficient bullets in their bloody genitals. So much blood. And that reek. It was on you. It was in you, maybe. It was everywhere.

You looked away when you heard footsteps coming closer. It was him. The vengeful crimson ghost. The Red Hood. Guns in his hands.         He stared at both men in silence and you guessed disdain and disgust behind his mask. He shot again to put an end to their suffering even though, you were sure, it was not out of mercy.             You backed down again, still on the floor when he knelt by your side. “Do you understand why I did this?”     You frowned. Could he read your mind? Could he see on your face your contempt for killers regardless of their motives? Could he see you were not a fan of men like him who fancied themselves judges, juries and executioners?       You nodded anyway. “Scumbags like them deserved to be put down. They lie. They abuse. They try to gain their victim’s trust but There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.”     “Shakespeare” “You know your classics”       “ And you’re quite a literature nerd for a crazy ass vigilante”

Trust. How ironic was that. How ironic that the first words you shared proved to be the perfect words to describe the awfulness you were doing today. Gaining his trust. Using him. Trapping him. And you hated yourself for it. And you hated the others as well, for letting you do this and for making sure you would fulfil this mission.       Because you needed to remember. Jason was a mission, a dangerous mission.

You sighed as the memories of that night faded away to move on to another memory. A memory of last night, when Nightwing had appeared.

“ Do you realise what could have happened?” You didn’t reply. Instead you just gritted your teeth, eyes staring at the moon, arms tightened around the sheets covering your naked body “Y/N! I’m talking to you!”           “ And I’m listening.” You growled, more than annoyed       “ No you’re not!”       Nightwing’s gauntlet suddenly rang and Oracle appeared on a holographic screen. She had a sun-kissed – though rather red - face and she looked jolly and very smiley, like anyone after well-deserved holidays on a beach you supposed.       “ Nightwing. I’ve got news on the mysterious… I’m bothering, maybe.”     “ We were having a conversation.” Dick answered with a softer and calmer voice. “ A conversation? You mean a lecture.” You corrected, curtly. Barbara’s eyes widened and for a second she hoped she had listened to Tim. They were so good on that beach. But they were not on the beach in anymore and here she was, back at work, in Gotham.           “ Okay. I definitely can feel the tension between both of you. So why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”       “ Dick is being a jerk. That’s what’s going on.” You shouted. “ A fucking distrustful pervert jerk.” He snickered and brushed his hair backwards. He couldn’t believe what you were saying. “ When did I say I didn’t trust you?”           “ So you admit you’re a pervert?” Barbara asked. “What? No.”         “ You always keep an eye on me! If that not distrust then what is it?” He grumbled and you kept talking. “You.Watched.Me!” You enunciated every syllable distinctively. “Having sex” Barbara stared at Dick in shock, ready to defend you. “You did what? That’s creepy!” “That’s voyeurism!” You clarified.     “ I didn’t do that. I didn’t see anything.” You crossed your arms above your chest to show your discontent. He had to be kidding you. “ Well maybe I saw a few things. But it wasn’t anything I had never really seen.”             The red haired girl suddenly looked horrified. “ Wait, what?” But no one paid attention to her. “ Oh, because the fact we fucked a couple of times grants you the authorisation to consider me as a living breathing porn movie.”     “ You two … you … What?” Barbara mumbled. Three weeks on a honeymoon and everything had gone to shit.           “ Long story, Babs.”   “ Not that long. 20 minutes each time, is that it?” You confessed with a sneer.                 “ Like you didn’t enjoy it.”     “ STOP!!!” Barbara shouted. You both immediately shut up and breathed in and out deeply to calm yourself. “I didn’t call to listen to you guys talking about such intimate things. So this is what we are going to do. We are going to act as adults and listen to each other, okay?”

None of you replied but Oracle took it has a sign you were both ready to do as she said. “ I want Y/N out of the mission.” You sighed and opened you mouth to defend yourself but Barbara ordered you to stay silent. “It’s too dangerous. You’re not trained enough for this and you’re especially too emotionally involved” He cared about you. You knew he did. But he couldn’t ask you this. “I watched you. It’s true. I shouldn’t have. But imagine what I felt when I saw Jason hurting you, Y/N, when I saw him chocking you. He could have killed you.”         “ He didn’t. He would never hurt me. It was an accident.”             “ Do you even hear yourself?” He asked, completely staggered by your naivety. “Have you seen your bruises?” Yes you have. But they did not matter. They were just bruises. Part of the job. “ He needs us, Dick. He needs me. I know I can help him.”           “ He is sick!” He shouted, hoping to reason you. “ He’s my brother, Y/N. I care about him too. But Jason took the name of the Red Hood, a name Joker had once. He killed Killermoth. He killed Black Mask and so many other people. He put Gotham to fire and the sword. He kidnapped Barbara. He tried to kill Bruce and he’s responsible for everything that’s happened lately. You can’t help him. He needs professional help.”     “ How can you say that?” You asked with eyes widened and watery. The Dick Grayson you knew would never say such awful things. He would not let his family down like that.             “ It’s the truth.”         “ You want to send him to a new Arkham Asylum? What a fantastic idea! Being locked up in the same kind of place in which he was tortured for over a year. I thought you were smarter than that… No I thought you were more compassionate than that. What a Batman move for someone who doesn’t want to be him and who has been whining like a kid for the past months because there is no way for him to wear the cowl and give back hope to this city”     “ Y/N!!” Barbara shouted but you didn’t listen. Instead you came closer to Dick with clenched fists. “You don’t wanna do what Bruce had planned for you? Fine. But let me do what was expected from me, what you all expected from me. Let me do what I want. Dangerous or not.” He frowned, not liking your tone at all. But he was wiser than you. “What was asked of you Y/N?”     “ To save Jason.”  You replied simply. He shook his head. “No. The mission was to keep an eye on Jason and to do what was necessary if he ever crossed the line. What is necessary is not comforting him using sex or whispering sweet words to his ear. What is necessary is to put him behind bars and give him the help he truly needs. You agreed to this when you volunteered. You agreed to do anything to make sure he would not go on a killing spree. You agreed to deceive him if you had too. You failed. So now you’re out of the mission.”

You rolled over and over in your bed. You couldn’t sleep. Out of the mission? Maybe was it a good thing after all. But out of the family? No way.     You sighed deeply and closed you eyes, trying to find some sleep. But no time to meet Mr Sandman. A small noise and your eyes were open again. The window had creaked and now you could feel a small breeze on your skin. You sat up and you saw him, in his gear, knelt on the floor. “Jay?” You frowned.

You repeated his name another time when you heard no sound coming from his mouth but a heavy panting distorted by his mask. “Baby.” You worried as you immediately got up to kneel before him. “What is it?” He didn’t answer, focused on his breathing or maybe was his mind completely elsewhere. You took off his red hood to help him breathe and threw it on the ground. The light bump on the wooden floor made him jump.         He was completely alarmed and frightened, like a hunted stag. His now-red face was covered in sweat and his black hair were completely wet. But what worried you the most was that terror in his blue eyes. The pupils were weirdly contracted and he looked as if he didn’t know where he was or what was going on. “Jay.” You whispered, heartbroken, trying to bring him back to you. You reached out to caress his cheek but he hissed and moved backwards. “I’m … su…focating” He managed to say.       Tears started streaming down your cheeks. You never felt so helpless, so useless or so scared and seeing him in such pain was tearing your heart out.

Without thinking, you jumped on him to hug him tight. You were not sure it was the right thing to do but it happened as a reflex, as a way to show him or whoever was hurting him that he was yours and that you were there to protect him. He immediately screamed in pain and tried to push you away but you resisted and used all your weight to keep him still. You forced him to nestle his face in your neck and then you whispered sweet loving words in his ear, your hand caressing his hair. “I’m here. I’m with you, baby. I’m not leaving.”  

He started to slowly relax. The cries and screams began to fade and now you could feel his heart beating against your chest going back to a more leisurely rhythm. “You’re okay.” The panting soon disappeared and Jason let himself slide along your body as if he couldn’t stay straight anymore. You held him back, his head against your chest, and he clang to your body as a baby koala. “Shh” You whispered still caressing his hair.     “ Don’t ever leave me. Don’t ever let me down” He cried against you.       “I won’t” You kissed the top of his head and you both remained like this for a couple of minutes before you helped him stand up to sit him down on your bed.

“He was in my head.” You nodded and murmured, “I know” as you brushed away his sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. “He was laughing” You took off his black and white leather jacket. “That sick son of a bitch.” He was still in chock, still a bit disconnected from reality but you let him talk. He needed it. He needed someone to listen to him, to take care of him. You removed his gloves and his thick long-sleeved top to leave him bare-chested on your bed and soon unstrapped his shin guards and holsters. “I want him gone. I want him gone from my head. I want my life back” You looked up at him with a compassionate look. “But I won’t have it back, will I?”         “ Just give it some time.” You tried to be optimistic. “ It’s been years.” He mumbled as you removed his boots. “But you didn’t have me.” You timidly whispered. He stared at you and put a hand on your cheeks in a weird attempt to caress it. He was so uncomfortable when loving touches were involved. “I didn’t have you.”         He made you straddle him to gaze at you the same way a believer would look at a goddess. You were so pure to him, so delicate, so surreal that sometimes he would wonder if you were not the fruit of hallucinations created by his mind to help him process all the raging emotions inside of him. “I don’t know what I would be without you”           You smiled lightly. “Just lay down.” He nodded and you pushed him flat on the mattress to take off his trousers so that he would be in his boxers.  Then you lied down next to him and took his arm to make him spoon you since you knew he would not do it himself even if wanted it.  He loudly smelt the perfume in your hair, tightened his embrace and closed his eyes. “I love you so much.”       “ I love you too.” You gave a faint smile and turned around to kiss him. And what was supposed to be a simple peck on the lips became something more needy, something that sucked the air from your lungs. You were his oxygen. And if it was what he needed then fine.

Screw them all. Screw their stupid mission. You had your own agenda now.

If Jason Todd trusted you then you knew you couldn’t deceive him anymore.

If Jason Todd trusted you then you would do anything to show how worthy of his trust you were.