divine-my-own-future:

Barbara’s lips parted more from surprise rather than preparing for speech. The comment resonated far more than she was comfortable with. Shocked and slightly bewildered, she stared at him, but before she could retort, the Hood was up and flying across the street. Shaking her head, hands planted firmly on each hip, she cursed him under her breath. Lips pursed together, Barbara turned back, gathering the discarded food containers, throwing them in a trash receptacle as she took the fire escape down the side of the building. Not flashy, but after tonight she needed the break.

The walk back to her bike was uneventful and quiet, but her mind kept wandering to places she didn’t want it to go. Muscles ached, feet screamed. An hour ago she was ready to call the evening a wash – now, she wasn’t so sure. The one thing she was certain of, however, was she wasn’t going to tell anyone about tonight. Barbara was too embarrassed, too confused to even try to piece together the events of the evening. Plus, who’d even believe her?

Reaching her apartment just in time to see the sun awaken from it’s nightly slumber, Barbara hit her bed without much thought other than rest. And after the night she had, she needed it.  

[COMPLETED]

divine-my-own-future:

Barbara didn’t alter her gaze when The Hood came to sit beside her, still staring straight up. She didn’t want him to know she was more than a little intimidated by him or confused or any of the other plethora of emotions that were probably plastered on her face. The Red Hood Gang sounded vaguely familiar, her father probably spoke of them when she was a child, but Gotham was overrun with gang activity, even back then.

This conversation was too humanizing. This Hood was supposed to be some violent killing machine, not someone she could have ever pictured as being small and helpless. Let alone a victim. Assumptions, Barbara, make an ass out of everyone. Wasn’t that how the saying went?

“Why are you telling me all this?”

He sat in silence for a long moment, letting the question hang in the air. Then; 

“Because behind every mask is a broken kid who wanted to reshape the world to fix their pain.”

With that, he was up and standing, one foot up on the raised edge of brick and mortar. Drawing his grappler from its holster on his belt, he aimed it across Lyons Avenue and fired. He looked back at Batgirl as the cable flew through the air.

“See ya around, Batsie.”

And then he was gone.

Ten minutes later he was seated on his bike, engine rumbling as he crossed the Narrows Bridge back to the Complex. He’d have time to overthink making a new…friend? Uneasy ally? Enemy? Later. For now, it was almost dawn, and the pinks and oranges of first light were shooting through the dusky blues and purples of the night sky. Gotham would soon awake, and that meant it was time to grab an hour or five of sleep before starting the routine over again. Still, as the motor stopped, Jason couldn’t get the images of the freckles around her mouth out of his head, or the way she’d so carelessly tossed her copper hair over her shoulder. Focus, Todd. You’ve got more important things to do than swoon over a Bat-Brat.

Shaking his head to clear away the ghost of her smile, he opened the door to the basement, tossing the Hood carelessly onto a padded table. His guns and belt were next, then his knives and other weaponry. Finally, the armor and suit were discarded, leaving him only in a skinsuit. With long steps, he reached the lift, keying in the code for the penthouse floor. A shower could wait. As his head hit the pillow, he was already asleep, visions of red and black and gold dancing through wisps of fantasy.

divine-my-own-future:

A forced laugh escaped her lips, hollow and exasperated. Of course. After rubbing her temples, she leaned back on the palms of her hands, head tilted so she could stare at the darkened sky. “The name wasn’t my choice. I think it was a newspaper that started calling me Batgirl.” It wouldn’t have been her first option, or her second or third. However, the pseudonym had stuck and she had been branded. “Our aliases aren’t very creative, are they?” Barbara snickered, shaking her head.

Jason, suddenly full, set his box aside. He tugged the helmet back over his face, stepping down to sit next to Batgirl, his long legs dangling off the roof. 

“You’ve got it backwards, Batsie. The Hood came after the alias. A long time ago, Gotham was controlled by a group of dangerous people known as the Red Hood Gang. When I was a little boy, the leader-” He stopped, unable to suppress a shudder at the memory. “He hurt me pretty good. I took the name after the gang fell, thinking I might bring some good to the name.” He laughed, but it was hollow. “The papers tried to call me Red Bat at first. A nice surprise interview with the editor of the Gazette changed that.” The poor woman had pissed herself when he stepped out of the dark corner of her room at four in the morning. 

divine-my-own-future:

“A jackass and a charmer – lucky me.” Barbara stated with sardonic lilt as she curled a noodle around her utensil. “I’m glad your media portrayal is correct. Just as I was beginning to think they had you all wrong.”

Jason laughed through a mouth full of noodles. “Batsie, half the shit that’s in the media is leaked by me. You don’t build a reputation like mine without trying. You should try it, you know-is Batgirl even your actual codename?”

divine-my-own-future:

Barbara was done feigning interest in this man. In fact, she was done with this whole rendezvous. She couldn’t place his motives, couldn’t tell if he was lying. Beyond frustrated, she let out a small sigh, arms crossing and uncrossing uncomfortably over her chest.

Then he started talking and her expression softened.  The Occupation. She remembered it crystal clear. A day wouldn’t go by without a something on the televised news or in the papers. At the time, she was in Cleveland, clinging to any morsel released in the media. She lived in dread for her father’s life, for her friends, for Gotham.  Born and raised in the city, she was connected to Gotham by more than blood. She loved it, she lived for it. She had never been so scared in her life.

The helmeted man talked of a heroism she had never witnessed, except as a helpless observer. Swallowing hard, her eyes looked in many directions but his. It felt like someone had kicked her in the gut. She felt embarrassed, humiliated. She had judged him based on sensational headlines, warnings that very well felt unmerited. Rubbing her eyes, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding in.

Leaning back on her hands, line of vision went over the skyline. Who was this guy? Why was he telling her all this? Was everything she knew about him wrong? Out of the corner of her eye she watched as the Red Hood outstretched an arm with a bag full of food. Barbara hesitated. Not because she was scared, she was past that now. This man was still dangerous, that part she was absolutely sure. But she wasn’t sure that the person in danger was her anymore.

Wearily, Barbara took the bag, eyes still shamefully cast aside. “No,” Her voice was quiet, a near whisper. “I haven’t seen the river at four a.m.” 

[Twenty minutes later, the pair of vigilantes are seated on a highrise overlooking the river. Red Hood is a few feet behind Batgirl, perched on an air conditioning unit. His hood is pulled up, and his face is visible from the eyes down. A domino covers his eyes, and a light beard darkens the rest of the visible area. A cold wind is blowing, and the moon is starting to set in the west.]

Don’t turn around, Batsie. If you saw my face, I’d have to kill you, and I’d rather not do that after saving your life so recently. Just stay that way, and enjoy the food. It’s the best outside China Basin, I promise.

divine-my-own-future:

Barbara watched him wearily, while attempting to keep somewhat of a cool exterior. She didn’t want to let this guy feel like he had any sort of upper hand on her. Frowning, she turned herself back around – slightly curious as he leaned against a wall. The James Dean act wasn’t working on her.

Nope.

Rubbing her eyes, she nodded her head. “A story?” Interest piqued, she sat herself down, cross legged. “Sure, why not Mr. Mysterious Hood man. Spin me a yarn.” It was obvious in her tone she was more than a little frustrated. No part of this evening had gone according to plan.

It was more than a little cute, how she was so obviously irritated with him, yet wasn’t making any attempts to leave. Curious. Repositioning, he placed his back against the wall, facing the alley restaurant. Low and slow, his voice poured out.

“It was during the Occupation. Nasty time. Not sure if you were here for it or not, but I know you saw the news reports. I spent most of it protecting the Narrows, plus both banks of the Gotham River. Carved out a nice chunk where Bane’s men wouldn’t dare go. Kept the people safe." 

He shifted again, crossing his arms. He could still see the line of mercenaries, marching shoulder to shoulder down the snowy road as they came to challenge his safe zone, where they’d ultimately fall, to be burned with the other corpses that would litter Gotham. 

"People started coming to us for protection. Offering money, food. Whatever they could give. We didn’t accept any of it. We had the power to help others, so we did. Saved a whole bunch of folks, too. Anyway, Mister Tak here-” he jabbed a finger at the metal door “-he came to me one day, told me the men had taken his daughter. Said she was his only family, that she was his entire world. So I went looking for her. Found her in a penthouse in Fort Clinton, where the men were staying. I brought her back." 

He shrugged. He was leaving out what he’d done to the men, but he didn’t think Batgirl would enjoy hearing about Jason tearing a finger off for every scratch on the young woman. Baby steps, right?

"Every since, Mister Tak has insisted what is his is mine, and I make sure to stop by every few weeks or so. Plus, it’s the best fried pork this side of China Basin. Change your life, Batsie.”

As if on cue, the man emerged from the kitchen, carrying two massive paper bags of takeout. Jason took them, bowed to the man, then snapped off a few lines in Mandarin. He handed one of the bags to Batgirl. 

“You ever seen the river at four A.M.? It’s a sight to see, once you get over the color and smell.”

divine-my-own-future:

To say Barbara was hesitant was the understatement of the year.  Follow him? This is a bad idea, Babs. Before she could second or third guess his motives though, she was turning on heel, nodding, and running after him. This was naive. Idiotic. She should have been heading in the opposite direction, but instead she was running after a man she only knew as possibly a very violent sociopath.  

This was one of the stupidest things she had ever done.

Even so, there was a rush. Barbara was running on pure adrenaline as she bounded after him, weaving in and out of alleyways and then up to a building she was unfamiliar with. He gestured for her to go ahead of him and there was the fleeting feeling deep in her gut that this was bad, but her feet keep propelling her forward.  Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed together in a scowl, but she wasn’t stopping.

“Now all we have to do is wait for them to move on, and get our bikes and split up. Are you hungry?" 

Barbara didn’t register his question. Instead, she canted her head to the side, puzzled. Hungry? No, she was definitely not hungry. In fact, just a fleeting ten minutes ago she was sure she was going to throw up all over this guy’s shoes. She swallowed hard, knowing her apprehension was obvious. No, she did not want what ever poisoned food he was going to try to get her to ingest. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shook her head.

What happened next was completely out of left field. A man opened the door and looked…happy to see the hood? Happy? That couldn’t be right. Barbara inched forward just a little closer to see if she could read his face better. This man was definitely happy to see the hood. She was flabbergasted.  Her vision narrowed and her jaw slacked. “Were you just speaking Mandarin? Wait, of course you were.” Barbara threw up her hands in exasperation and turned around. What the hell was going on? Who was this guy? “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Shaking her head, she walked to the edge of the building and rubbed her temples. This had to be the weirdest night she’d had in a long time.

Batgirl blushed furiously, then stumbled through a response. Jay turned back to the man-Chan Yan Tak was his name-and ran through a small list of food. With a last nod and a smile, Chan turned back inside, letting the door slam shut. Jason crossed the alleyway, leaning against a brick wall some six feet from Batgirl, who still looked adorable. No, confused. Adorably confused.

"Should be out in a few minutes.” He looked over her again, reading her body language like a book. She was nervous. Scared, and definitely out of her element. She wasn’t gonna trust him, not immediately. He sighed. “Wanna hear a story, Batsie?”

divine-my-own-future:

Curiously, she watched as he swung the steel blade. He seemed more like a gun person than a sword person. Shrugging up her shoulders, she shook her head in confusion. This man was a complete mystery, but Barbara loved a challenge.

He had to have an angle, had to have a reason. This Red Hood had a reputation. He was brutal, violent. Yet he had helped her out of a tough spot, laughed at her, and hadn’t tried to kill her after she pushed him off a building. So either he had an ulterior motive for helping her or the media portrayal was horribly skewed.

Maybe this was one puzzle she couldn’t crack.

Barbara pursed her lips together in frustration as she followed him toward the exit, her mind spinning with questions that would likely never receive answers. Even if he had helped her, she had to keep her guard up. Rescue or not, he was a stranger and trust was hard earned.

Princess. Barbara scowled, shaking her head as she stepped through the alley door. “I’m definitely not a princess.” Once in the passageway, Barbara snapped her head left and right, satisfied that the area was clear, she waved him over. “Look, I appreciate the help, Darth, but I think I might be able to safely make it back to my bike.” Just a moment after she spoke, the sound of a helicopter rotor interrupted her. Looking up, she spied one of the GCPD’s Bell helicopters buzzing overhead. Letting out a heavy sigh, arms crossed over her chest.

“Want to give me a lift?”

The helicopters were close, and by the looks of it, angry. High powered spotlights raked the streets, and the whine of sirens echoed oddly off the dark alleyways. Jason turned to Batgirl.

“We’ll never make it in this mess.” He gestured without looking at the choppers. “I have an idea, though. Follow me?” Breaking into a jog, he ran south, following the alley for several buildings. Grabbing hold of a fire escape on High Street, he pulled himself up, extending a hand for Batgirl to do the same. After nearly twelve stories of careful climbing, they reached a walkway that stretched over 14th. 

“After you?” He held out a hand, ignoring the scowl she gave him as she swept past his outstretched arm. Across and down they went, coming out just a short walk from Perl Street. The sirens and lights were far away from them now; their detour had shaken them. “Now all we have to do is wait for them to move on, and get our bikes and split up. Are you hungry?” She stared at him. He repeated his question, slower this time. “Are. You. Hungry?” Still nothing. He sighed, crossing the alley to knock on a decrepit looking metal door. 

Forty seconds later, a portly Asian man emerged, looking tentative. Upon seeing the Red Hood leaning against his doorway, he smiled broadly, jabbering enthusiastically in Mandarin Chinese. Jason replied likewise, gesturing at Batgirl. The man nodded furiously, then yelled something at the open door. “Hey. Batsie. Order up. My treat.” He grinned under his helmet, knowing how this had to be freaking her out.

divine-my-own-future:

If she could have rolled her eyes harder, she would have. “Have you actually seen Star Wars, Hood? Bad reference. Poor form.” She shook her head back and forth with mock disappointment. Barbara slowed her pace as they reached the end of the walkway. Looking left and right, she turned back to her companion, arms crossed over her chest. All she wanted to do was get out of this building, get back to her bike, and forget this night ever happened. It had been a disaster from start to finish and more than that, she was frustrated with herself. Everything had been an elaborate string of rookie mistakes. Slip-ups that should have never happened.

When the Red Hood had turned away from her, just slightly, Barbara saw her chance and took it. Without a second thought, she approached him and with one swift movement her leg was up and pushing him up and over the ledge. There was a split second of remorse, one moment of regret before she reminded herself not only would he be fine – he deserved it. Peeking over the edge, Barbara smirked before somersaulting off, looking like a cross between a ballerina and an Olympic diver. Her descent was tight and it wasn’t until the last moment that she slowed herself, landing like a feather on the ground below.

Waltzing over casually, Barbara rapped on his helmet with her knuckles. “First rule to becoming a Jedi Knight, young Padawan, never piss off the redhead.” Her lips upturned into a taut smile before she spun around to take in their environment.  The air was thick and humid to accommodate the abundant plant life surrounding them. It was breathtaking. Like being somewhere tropical, somewhere far from Gotham.

The echo of police footsteps had stopped minutes ago and she took that as a good sign. Inhaling deeply, she relaxed her posture.  It looked like they maybe, just maybe, they would be able to make a clean getaway. That was all she could hope for, that and the retreat of Gotham’s finest; she really didn’t want to fight with the police. In fact, she was almost positive she recognized at least one out of the group of uniforms that had been chasing them.

Awkward. 

Crouching down, Barbara slid a gloved finger over the waxy, two toned leaves of a clump of bromeliads. This little oasis reminded her of the botanical garden back in Cleveland. Once a month she used to cut out of her archive class early and hang out there. Her favorite exhibit had always been the tropical greenhouse with the giant Amazon waterlillies. She would find a neighboring bench, spread out her books, study among the silence of the flora, trying to imagine the fantastic adventures in other countries that surely she would have one day.

Barbara’s smile bowed, forming a small frown at the memory. She had hoped to be a million miles away by now, in some other country with some other life. Instead, she was here. Barbara just hoped all this sacrifice would amount to something, that it would mean something. Someday.

He followed her to the ground, landing as easily as she had. Before he looked up from his three point landing, she knocked on his helmet, making her another Star Wars reference. He rolled his eyes. Unsheathing his sword from the scabbard on his back, he stepped past her, cutting through a particularly thick tangle of vines and ivy. The cold metal cut clean through it, opening up a clearing from which the pair could see the vast expanse of green surrounding them. 

It only then dawned on Jason where their mad dash had taken them; they were in the Monte Carlo casino, a renovation project that had been weeks away from completion before the owner had been found missing. No one had purchased the lot, and so it had sat for almost a year now. Apparently, ground floor security was much tighter than upper level stuff. The interior was plush, decorated for a crowd that had more money than sense, and it showed. Gold inlay, red carpet, and elaborate columns supported the walls. 

Jason located the rear exit, and motioned for Batgirl to follow him. “So, Batsie. If you’re such a wise Jedi Master, where’s your blade? I don’t see one, and everyone knows that a real Jedi has a sword.” He stopped, turning his head to cut off her immediate reply. “And yes, I know it’s not a lightsaber. Shut it.” With a hard kick, he forced the alley door open, breaking the chain that held it shut. “After you, Princess.”