Loss and Reunion

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Summary: What if Bruce Wayne hadn't encountered just one street-smart kid attempting to steal the tires from the Batmobile? What if Jason Todd had a sister, and she got dragged along into a life she did not ask for, all because her brother thought: "dude, those tires look sick." Who could've known things could go so wrong? Oh, that's right — she did. Rated T (possibly M according to the site's rating system) for language, death, mentions of past abuse, and general violence.

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Disclaimer: I do not own any thing from the Batman or overall DC universe; only Jessica.

Author's Note: Recently, I've received some reviews and such on this story and have become motivated to update it, but it needs some work — a lot of work, actually. Looking back through this, Jessica's characterization is nowhere near where I want it, and everything is so choppy and rushed (plus, I want the story to reference the comics more, so I'll be weaving in different parts of canon as I see fit, not necessarily all from the same arc as I want to show my own interpretation). It hurts to read this now, if I'm going to be honest, because my writing and I have both matured so much since I first posted. However, I'm still deeply attached to Jessica and the story, so bear with me those who want the next chapter; I haven't abandoned this. I'll spend some time reposting/rewriting the existing chapters (there are so many things I'm going to add, I swear. I do have an idea of where this story is going and am no longer just writing a trash menagerie), and then I'll continue with the storyline. Thank you all so much for sticking with the story and being interested in it! I love you all.

P.S. Atthedragonsdoor, your comments really got some gears spinning in my mind! A lot of this story is different from what it used to be, and you can expect to see Babs (amongst others) this time around. Thanks for your random 1:00 AM suggestions and feel free to hit me up with more at any time of day or night ;)

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PROLOGUE

Jason Todd has the least intelligence of anyone I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.

I'm not entirely sure where he gets the impression that he has the skills necessary to steal the tires from the Bat's self-indulgent, Bat-themed car, but none of the concerns I voice about his waning sanity or my threatened safety deter him from his mission. With nothing but a lug wrench in hand, Jason shoots me a manic smirk, striding cockily down the path to the Batmobile. I meet his frenetic energy with a scowl. Is it not enough for him that the streets shaped our father into a sleazy criminal and eroded our mother's existence? Doth he yearn for the melancholia of Gotham to contaminate his psyche, lest it spur him into insanity? I mean, if dementia is his goal, then I guess Crime Alley is the perfect place for him to loiter around while the corruption sets in — the idyllic dystopia. Knowing he'll make quick friends with the resident rats puts my mind at ease.

Following Jason's path toward the Bat's car proves more difficult a task than I expected. With the overcast putting the moon out of commission, the looming buildings of the alleyway entrap a hazy darkness, mocking my reliance on sight. Jason, however, moves expertly, weaving through the street lamps as if he were walking along a familiar trail in the woods. Only one lamp's bulb has endured throughout the years; Gotham's maintenance crews don't dare venture through Crime Alley to replace the dead ones. I understand their reluctance, but that doesn't mean I haven't cursed their cowardice several times tonight. The single street lamp's dim halo of light provides no reassurance of my surroundings, and I try not to dwell on what may or may not be lurking past its radius.

With my eyes swathed in pitch, my other senses desperately reach out for purchase on reality. I strain my ears for Jason's footfalls, but the drumming of my heart makes it nearly impossible to identify any other sound. The tick-tacking of a rat's claws suddenly pierces through the heavy thuds, scratching against my eardrums. Shuddering, I look down just in time to glimpse a mangey clump of fur scurry past me. A fleshy tail slithers behind it, flicking sharply against my sneaker; my leg recoils to my chest on impact. The stinging in my throat leaves me to wonder whether I had thrown up or if rabies had already set in.

My next steps are cautious as I try to locate any nearby disease-ridden fleabags; however, I can hardly focus enough to determine the difference between a rodent and a beer can. The thick stench of stale alcohol clinging to the air is smothering my nose, my tongue, my thoughts— creeping into every crevice of my being. My lungs wither in the fumes of emotional turmoil and bad choices that manifested from many poor fools' wasted breath. It's incredible that I haven't run into one of the pitiful, bumbling drunkards, yet. It's incredible that I haven't died.

"Jason, where the hell are you?" I call out to him, albeit in a hushed voice.

"Here," his voice cuts through the darkness, and I cautiously walk toward it. Finally, I make out his form kneeling in front of what I can only assume is the Batmobile.

"Glad you could join me," he smirks, looking at me over his shoulder, "I've already got a car jack under it — left it here earlier — I just need the wrench. I think I set it down somewhere near you. Find it for me?"

"I can hardly see you, Jason." I squint in his general direction, fairly certain I'm facing the right way when I catch the sheen of the Batmobile's glossy surface.

"Just do it." he turns away from me. Apparently, he's lost interest in the conversation. I, on the other hand, am still deeply invested in it.

"If I can't see, how do you expect me to find it?" I throw my hands out, gesturing to the void around me.

"God, why are you so difficult?" he waves his hand dismissively. "Use echo location or something, I don't know."

I sigh, looking down at the ground despite the act's pointlessness. I take a few steps away from Jason to make it seem like I'm putting effort into the search. My foot bumps against something as I shuffle around, so I lean down to inspect the offensive object. It's vaguely wrench-shaped — a good sign.

"I think I found it." I stand up, wrench in hand.

"See? And you didn't even need echolocation. Now hurry up and give it to me," he snickers, beckoning me over.

I hesitate, mulling over whether I should give up the wrench or not. Despite what Jason may think, the last thing I want is to be an accessory to a crime against the Batman. I consider dropping the tool and booking it out of the alley, but instead, my shoulders drop, and I reluctantly walk toward Jason.

"You're annoying. You know that, right?" I remark.

"Not as annoying as you," he shoots back, eliciting a rather aggressive eyeroll from me.

"Stop lying to yourself," I retort, reaching his side, "you've never had to deal with an idiot sibling who drags you to questionable and irreputable places for stupid-ass reasons. Unlike you, I like to spend our free time doing normal things."

"Like that one time you wanted us to jump off the roof of the apartment building — hopefully into a dumpster — just to see if we would die from a fall that high?"

"No, I wanted to see if we would break our legs —"

"Yeah, normal things," he continues casually, "anyways, didn't you know that Crime Alley's got the highest travel rate in all of Gotham? That's exciting, right?" he sits back on his heels, looking up at me and resting his arms across his thighs.

"I think you mean the highest death rate, but same difference I guess."

"Exactly. Exciting. I thought this was your favorite game — will we die, or won't we? Tune in next week to witness the shocking fate of our heroes."

"Next week? I think we've got about five minutes tops before someone pulls a gun on us, or worse." I cross my arms, clacking my nails against the wrench. "Which reminds me — why are we risking our lives for a couple of tires again?" I ponder the answer myself, wondering why I had complied with Jason's compulsive thievery. Had it been my discomfort in seeing the Joker-esque grin he had sported while racing back to me from his earlier solo escapade down Crime Alley, or my shock at hearing the girlish giggles escaping his lips after he barely got out the word 'Batmobile'?

"Jess, this place is hell," he says bluntly, "but these tires might make us enough money to get ourselves someplace better."

"Maybe not." I look up between the buildings, noticing the moon peak out from behind a cloud.

"Thanks for the positivity, Little Miss Sunshine," Jason deadpanned, "Do me a favor while you're in such a good mood and pass me the wrench already."

"I meant maybe this place isn't hell. After all, the saying is 'a bat out of hell.' If the Bat is hanging around here, then we must not be in hell." I shrug.

"Fine, this place isn't hell — it's worse. The Bat wanted out of hell because it was too damn nice, so he came here. But guess what? It's our turn to get out, and this is our chance. So, do me a fucking favor and pass the wrench." He thrusts his hand out. With a huff, I drop the wrench into his palm and pivot on my heel, stalking off to the side.

I slump against the brick wall of an apartment complex bordering the alley. Jason begins his work, and my foot taps in rhythm to the twists of the wrench. Minutes pass like hours and I end up spending each eternity of a second berating myself for dumbly succumbing to Jason's wishes.

"This is stupid," I make sure to speak loudly enough for Jason to hear me, but apparently, he's taken a liking to ignoring me. Before I realize what I'm saying, words spill from my mouth to fill in the silence I receive.

"There's no way in hell you can pull this off; we're going to get caught and we're both going to die. Batman is going to show up, and the two of us are going to get absolutely destroyed, just . . . completely wrecked." I kick at the wall behind me, giving Jason the option to chime in before continuing my ramble.

"Got anything to confess before we eat dirt?" I call out. "No? That's alright; I already knew you were the one who got knife slashes in my favorite leather jacket — the one I stole from that lady in apartment 3A, remember? She's a real piece of work, that woman; always insisting I stop threatening her son when he tries to talk to me because it's 'rude' and makes her concerned for my 'well-being and mental stability.' Maybe she should tell Tom I'm not interested in his friendship? Anyways, I know the cuts in the jacket weren't from the cat. We don't have a cat. I'm not stupid."

"Shut up," he mumbles, trying to tune me out and focus on the nut he's loosening.

"For the record, I saw Tom slap his girlfriend the other day when she said she left her purse at the movie theater." I brush my hair out of my face and inspect my sleeves for any offensive materials. A few clumps of lint fall from my fingers. "I know it's none of my business, but maybe his mother should stop worrying about me and pull the reins in on her wild asshole of a son, yeah?"

Jason sighs heavily, pausing in his endeavors to bring a hand up and rub the bridge of his nose.

"On a completely unrelated side note," I twirl my hand around, "if Batman leaves any of our remains, what would you want the cops to find? I personally want them to find my left ear. Maybe a kneecap, too, just to screw with them. What kind of person leaves behind his victim's ears and kneecaps? A weird one. Like, really weird."

"Shut up!" Jason accentuates his groan by throwing his head back in desperation, as if pleading to God for silence. "Please, just stop talking. Please."

I reluctantly comply, for no other reason than to avoid drawing more attention to us than I probably already had. I shift around where I'm leaning against the grungy apartment. Rough bricks grate along my back; the worn grey hoodie shrouding my body provides practically no protection from the coarse surface. Pushing myself away from the wall irately, I glance around the alley to make sure we're still alone. Sensing movement above me, I snap my eyes up, just barely catching a glimpse of something flying across the rooftops. A shiver races down my spine, but I ignore the feeling. No, I did not just see the flutter of a black cape disappear into the shadows; it was just a chimney swift, or a swallow— definitely not a bat.

I cast my gaze back down to where Jason is kneeling next to the Bat's car. He finally pulls the first tire free, snickering to himself. The light from the sole working street lamp glints indignantly off the vehicle when Jason pats the door in satisfaction before hefting the tire to the side.

"Ye of so little faith," he grins up at me, the whites of his eyes flashing sharply, "do you still doubt?"

"I doubt that you aren't on whatever was left of mom's drugs. You realize the Bat'll be back any minute, right? Actually, he's probably already here, staring down at us from the roofs with his beady little bat eyes." I rub my arms and take a step toward who I hope is the only other person in the alley.

"You do know that he's not actually a giant bat, right?" Jason scoots himself over to his next target, the soles of his shoes scraping across the gravel and glass littering the concrete. Grabbing the lug wrench from where it lay next to his foot, he begins prying the hubcap off the back-left wheel.

"You don't know that." I sharply kick a broken beer bottle resting by my feet. It skitters toward Jason but misses him by mere inches. The bottle vanishes from sight, though I hear glass shatter seconds later.

"Are you suggesting that Batman is a giant-ass bat— a literal human-sized bat— that runs around Gotham in a cape and tights, punching people in the face with his giant-ass bat claws?"

I purse my lips. ". . . Yes."

Jason pauses, turns around, and marvels at me. "You know, you always like to tell me how much of an idiot I am, but I'm starting to believe I'm the smarter one between the two of us."

"Oh, shut up! What about Manbat? He's a fucking bat with legs!"

Jason clicks his tongue, "Fair point. But Manbat has wings. If Batman is an actual bat, why the hell does he need a car, and a fancy-ass one at that?"

"How am I supposed to know?" I yell, throwing my hands up. "Maybe he's Bruce Wayne!" I spit.

"Yeah, and I'm Boy Wonder," he scoffs, "Stop saying stupid shit."

"I wasn't being serious, dumbass."

"Neither was I; I wouldn't be caught dead in those green panties."

"I don't know, you'd look good in —"

"Do you want me to kick your ass? Cause I will."

"Calm down, Jay, I was going to say 'a cape'."

I get ready to tell Jason that the 'panties' would at least match his eyes, but the light from the street lamp suddenly trembles and I snap my mouth shut. The flickering feels like a warning— whether it's simply a warning of impending darkness, or one of impending death, I'm not sure. My gaze jumps around the alley before settling on the lamppost, and the tensing of my shoulders doesn't go unnoticed.

"You scared?" Jason teases.

When I don't respond, he sets the lug wrench down "Jess?"

My mouth is dry, but I can feel dampness condense in the confines of my clenched fists. As bumps raise across my arms and neck, a few beads of sweat trail down my face. Though I keep my eyes trained on the black figure looming next to lamp, I lose sight of the phantom when the light sputters again and finally blinks out.

I shudder, unable to shake the feeling of dread clinging to me, and don't break my focus until a hand clamps down on my shoulder. A yelp leaps out of my throat as I jerk at the sudden touch.

"Hey, calm down. It's just me, idiot." Jason says softly, now standing by my side, "What's the matter with you? We're stealing Batman's tires; this is the biggest moment of our lives. We're peaking right now so you best enjoy it; it won't get any better than this." He waves his other hand — still holding the lug wrench — around for emphasis.

"We need to leave." I tug on the cuffs of my sweatshirt, twisting them around.

"What?" he groans, "Why are you such a baby; so what if it's dark?" Jason's hand falls from my shoulder, and I can practically feel him roll his eyes. For his sake, I ignore him.

"Before the light went out, I saw him standing next to it." I point toward the lamp post, hand shaking.

"Who?"

"Him."

"Voldemort?"

"Don't be such an ass, I'm serious." I growl, turning to punch him in the shoulder. He snickers at me, pushing back in retaliation.

"I think you're the one on drugs," he pokes me in the chest with the wrench, "cause there's nothing there."

I glance at the post, shoulders drooping, and sigh. Jason saunters backwards, rambling about how he was the superior sibling now. My eyes trailed after him, narrowing at his smirk as he says something about how 'it wasn't his fault that God liked him better' while raising his hands defensively. I go to follow him but stop when the hairs on the back on my neck shoot up. I dare to peek at the post again, but nothing appears to be lurking near it, so I turn back to Jason in defeat. Once he is in my sight, however, a strangled sound escapes my lips and my legs nearly give out.

"What, bat got your tongue?" Jason taunts. I watch as his journey to the Batmobile is stopped short and his face falls in sync with mine. He whips around to stare straight up into the haunting eyes of the Batman. Spitting out a curse under his breath, he stumbles back. Regaining his footing, he lowers himself and raises the lug defensively.

Batman watches silently; I wait anxiously for him to pounce on Jason and rip him to pieces so that I can book it and save myself. Surprisingly, Jason makes the first move – a subtle step towards the nearest end of the alley – but Batman stills him when his voice growls out.

"You do realize that's the Batmobile, right?"

Jason narrows his eyes and straightens ever slightly. "Duh. You do realize you parked your car in Crime Alley, right?"

Batman closes the distance between Jason and himself in seemingly one stride. He towers over Jason, glowering down at him with a scowl that would leave my father trembling. Jason, tapping into confidence (or stupidity) I didn't know he had, squares his shoulders. I keep my eyes locked on Batman, however. With him only feet away, I could see the whites of his eyes, the clawless hands, the utility belt– and hey wait a minute.

I stomp forward next to Jason.

"Hey!" I shout. Batman acknowledges me with a turn of his head.

"Jess, what the hell—" Jason makes a move to step in between me and the Bat, but my arm shoots out to push him back.

"What gives?" I growl, my hands planted firmly on my hips.

"I could ask you the same question." Batman says evenly.

"You aren't a fucking bat; you're just some guy in a mask!"

"Are you serious right now?" Jason gawks at me.

"You were right, Jason. He's not a giant bat — he's a little bitch."

"What?" Batman snarls.

"Oh my god," Jason runs a hand through his unkempt hair, closing his eyes, "I can't believe how fucking stupid you are, Jess."

"And I can't believe that for all these years I've been scared shitless by a middle-aged freak running around Gotham dressed like a bat!"

"I tried to tell you," Jason shrugs, "but I'm pretty sure that somehow, Dad managed to knock your brain out of your thick skull, so why did I have such high expectations?"

"The fuck did you just say?" I snapped around to face him.

"Okay, my bad. That was in poor taste." He puts his hand up in defense, giving me an apologetic look in hopes of quelling the outrage directed at him.

"This isn't the time for petty arguments." Batman grinds out.

"Mind your own business, Bitchboy!" I bark.

"Holy shit," Jason whispers, closing his eyes in reverence of his soon-to-be dead sister.

"This is my business. In case you forgot, that's my car, and those are my tires." He steps closer to me, but I don't back up. As soon as his hand raises toward me, Jason jumps into action.

"Jess, move!" Jason shouts. I stumble back out of shock as Jason lunges toward the Bat, hauling his wrench back and slamming it into the Bat's gut. Batman lets out a barely audible grunt, quickly dodging the next blow that was aimed at him. I watch as Jason swings the wrench again but is stopped short as the Bat catches it. The tool is ripped from Jason's hands and thrown to the side. I shout indignantly as Jason is grabbed by the collar of his sweatshirt and lifted from the ground.

"Well, shit. . ." Jason rasps out.

"Put him down, you jerk!" I scream, fear slowly creeping into my mind again as I watch Jason get his ass handed to him.

Batman turns his head slightly, looking over Jason's shoulder to match my stare of apprehension with a good-natured smirk. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, taking a step back.

Well, shit, indeed.