Seraphina stared blankly at the wall, breathing slowly. The air was painfully dry and thick, leaving her feeling ill. Her usually vibrant red hair was dull and flat and was painfully fragile, parts of it breaking off whenever she touched it.
She was stuck in a glorified cell, underground and painfully silent. A plush bed was in a corner with a nightstand beside it and a bookshelf stood in a corner, full of books. She had her own bathroom thankfully and food was delivered silently by the same handful of heavily-armored guards.
A record player sat in a corner, but she didn't bother with it. No, her one notable visitor would though. The man wore different armor, made of metal and wore a red mask. He didn't speak, he just sat at the table while she ate and would occasionally guide her to dance after playing a record.
She closed her eyes at the turn of a lock and inhaled deeply, fresh air carrying the smell of food in. Real food, too. While she tended to get dry cereal or a couple granola bars for breakfast, dinner was always something freshly cooked.
The man walked over and set the tray on the table, meticulously setting the table with the silverware and pouring ice water into the glass. He looked over at her and softly sighed, walking over. His armor was always so noisy, rough on her ears.
He kneeled down and slowly reached out, cupping her cheek. She opened her eyes and stared blankly at him, resting her head against the wall. He tilted his head and gently wrapped his arms around her, picking her up.
She stiffened and curled her fingers. He slowly walked over to the table and gently set her in the chair, patting her head. She glanced up at him and picked up the fork. Spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread. So simple and so... homey.
She rubbed her eye as it began to water and started eating, listening to the armor clink as he put on a record, turning the dial up louder than normal. She flinched and glanced up, narrowing her eyes. He never turned it up so loudly and it was jarring.
He walked over to the bookshelf and looked over it, glancing over the books. He trailed his fingers over the spines and she blinked when she heard a soft hiss of air. She glanced up and swallowed her bite of meatball, reaching over to sip some water.
He slowly removed the mask and looked over it, rubbing his thumbs over the exaggerated bat-like ears. He took a deep breath and looked down, his white tuft of bangs falling into his eyes. He would give himself a haircut later.
She shifted and set her fork down, her eyes widenening when he turned to face her. She curled her fingers in her pants and stared at him, her eyes watering. This man, that brought her fresh food and clothes, always heavily armored, was not some stalker. He was not just anybody.
"Jay?"
Jason set the helmet on the bookshelf and glanced up at her, nodding slightly. "Hi."
She sniffled as the tears streamed down and quickly stood, punching his cheek. He closed his eyes and she slapped him, pushing his chest. He stepped back when she continuously shoved him and grunted when she pushed him onto the bed, bouncing slightly.
She quickly climbed onto the bed and slapped him repeatedly, sobbing audibly. He closed his eyes and gripped the blanket, not trying to stop her. Yes, his face burned with her hits and his eyes stung with tears, but it was nothing compared to her pain.
She slowly sunk down and sobbed, weakly hitting his chest plate. He loosely held her waist and took a deep, shuddering breath. He slowly rubbed her back and held her close. He felt her tears drop onto his neck and continued rubbing her back.
She slowly calmed down and hoarsly mumbled, "Why?"
He clenched his eyes shut, holding back the tear threatening to slip free. "I had to keep you safe."
She shook her head slightly, keeping her face in his neck. "No. Why are you doing all of this?"
He tightened his grip and mumbled, "I have to do it, I have to make Bruce see what he's done. He never ends anything and it hurts others. It hurt me."
She shook her head again. "I know it hurt, but you're alive. You're here and alive, you don't have to keep doing this. Stop dragging it out."
He shook his head and sat up, guiding her to sit beside him as he hunched over, clenching his hands together as he stared at the floor. "No, I can't. It's too late. I might not be back, but I love you. Please, just -"
She pushed his shoulder and yelled, "No! You're not abandoning me! You're not leaving me again, Jason Peter Todd! I waited for you for years to come back! And, and, and then you do this shit. For god's sake, you're working with Scarecrow! You're so much better than this!"
He flinched away and tightened his hands as they shook. His voice audibly cracked as he said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not the man you thought I was. I love you, Seraphina. I love you so much, you deserve better than me."
She stared wide-eyed and her jaw hanging open as he stood up. She tried to speak and stared as he picked up the helmet, staring at it. After a moment, she softly mumbled, "Please, Jay. I love you. Don't do this."
He took a deep breath and slid on the helmet, hiding his falling tears. "You'll be well-taken care of. My men know what their jobs are."
She sobbed and watched as he walked out, gripping the blanket tightly. She sunk down as he walked out and screamed into the bed, tears freely flowing down. He clenched his eyes shut as he locked the door and took a deep breath, a tear sneaking down his cheek.
She deserved better, he told himself. She deserved a world without all of this, without Batman, without Scarecrow, without himself. No more vigilantes, just a long happy life. She would find someone better, someone normal. She was better than him.