AN: GED stands for General Education Development. It's an exam that tests a person in math, science, reading, writing, and social studies. In the US and Canada, passing the GED exam will give a person an equivalent of a high school degree. More information, if you're curious, can be found on Wikipedia by searching "GED".
Jason stands on a rooftop overlooking a street in Crime Alley, cigarette in hand. He takes a drag and flicks the ash with a gesture born of long practice. The night sky is gloomy, even for Gotham, and the city lights brighten the underside of the low hanging clouds to create a lurid yellow effect. Rain is in the air, but it's a question of when rather than where. If he squints hard enough to the west, he can just make out the haziness indicating the oncoming squall. Thunder has been grumbling in the distance for over an hour now.
The weather has been like this ever since he got up this afternoon. It's one of those late fall days where the only thing that sounds good is staying in with something hot to drink and a good book. He'd done his grocery shopping earlier too, so even if everything goes to hell later tonight, he's all set for it.
Apparently the denizens of Crime Alley seem to be thinking the same thing. It's been a slow night, even for him, and he's thinking about calling it when he hears the loud scream piercing the looming darkness from further down the street.
Duty calls.
The scream is abruptly cutoff, but Jason's already moving, cigarette forgotten as he runs across the rooftops of the closely spaced apartment buildings, his red helmet left behind. He uses his grapple line to smoothly cross the street and peers down into the alley below. The sight makes him sick to his stomach and he jumps down, landing quietly behind the brown haired man who has a young dark haired woman pressed against the filthy alley wall and is trying to get her pants off. She's sobbing hard and trying to struggle, but the man has a good grip on her and is using his greater body weight to keep her pinned.
"Pretty sure you're not payin' her for that," Jason says in a grim voice.
The man turns quickly, letting the woman go in the process. His face blanches when he sees Jason, all decked out in his Red Hood gear; even sans the helmet, he's intimidating as hell. The next thing he sees is Jason's gloved fist. The man's jaw cracks upon impact and sends him flying to the ground. A reinforced boot kicks him soundly between the legs and the would-be rapist lets out a strangled cry.
"Ever hear of the word consent?" Jason asks as he easily picks the man up and sends him flying against the opposite wall in the dark alley. "I could be wrong, but I thought I heard a bunch of no's coming outta that gal's mouth."
The man tries to run, but Jason grabs him by his worn hoodie, trips him so that he's on his knees, and gives him a good kick in the ribs to keep him still. Jason looks over at the young woman who's still in the alley. She's clutching her ripped sweater closed over her chest but has managed to get her pants back up where they belong. "You want in on this?" he asks her, giving her attacker another good kick. "I've been told it's therapeutic."
She stands very still for a moment before coming forward and kicking her attacker in the face with her sneaker. "Chingate!" she swears at him in Spanish. "Pendejo! Vete a la verga culero!"
Jason watches silently, letting the woman vent her anger out on the man, swearing in Spanish the whole time. He's impressed by the variety of and rather creative things she's coming up with. She's got a mouth on her. Not shy, this one. It's not long before the man is groaning in a heap at their feet. The woman is breathing heavy, hands clenched at her sides rather than closing the gaping hole in her sweater that's doing nothing to hide her nicely rounded breasts. Jason gives her an admiring look before returning his attention to the piece of shit on the ground. Can't help it; girl's got a nice rack.
"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" he says sarcastically as he kneels down to rifle through the man's pockets. "Let's see who you are, asswipe." He finds a wallet and pulls out the man's ID, as well as a few crumbled bills. The address is somewhere over in Coventry. "Not even from around here." Jason stands and drops the ID and empty wallet on the man. "Don't take this the wrong way," he says and hands the woman the money. "That should buy you a new sweater."
The young woman gasps and tries to pull her sweater closed again. "Sorry, Red Hood," she says in lightly accented English. "I…" she stops as her head hangs in shame.
"You got nothin' to be sorry about," Jason replies easily. "Let's get you home."
She nods and turns away from her attacker who's still moaning weakly in the alley. They're almost to the street when she gasps. "I almost forgot!" she says and runs back into the alley, a long black braid whipping around behind her.
Jason turns in time to see her pick up a large backpack and shrug it on. It helps keep the gap in her sweater closed once she has the straps in the right place. He can't help raising an eyebrow at the sight, as the bag looks heavy. "What've you got in there, bricks?"
"Books," she replies easily. "I was at the library until they closed at eleven. I'm studying for my SATs."
The eyebrow goes even higher. That's a fucking rarity in this part of town. "Gotta admit, I did not see that comin'."
The young woman smiles broadly as she steps out into the street next to Jason. "I'm a girl with a goal. I'm at the top of my class in my school, which isn't really that hard," she explains, almost babbling, though whether it's from the adrenaline rush of what just happened or by nature, Jason's not sure. "I want to go college, even if it's just Gotham University. I want to get a good job and get out of here." She gestures to the rough streets around them.
Delivery method aside, it's a sentiment that's all too familiar to Jason. If I hadn't died, would I have even graduated high school? Gone to college? Fuck, no one in my messed up "family" has even finished college with the exception of Bruce. I think Dickie's the only one to finish high school, though the brat is in some expensive as shit private school. No idea about the Replacement, but he's fucking smarter than all of us. "Can't blame you there, chica," he says. "But walking these streets at night by yourself is stupid and you don't strike me as the stupid type if you've got goals like those."
Her head drops in embarrassment. "My brother is working late tonight and one of his friends was supposed to meet me and take me home. But he never showed up. When I called mi hermano, no one answered. I waited a bit, then left on my own. What a fucking mistake that was." She sighs and her head drops even more.
"Hey, none of that." Jason taps her lightly on the chin to get her to look up again. "You got lucky this time."
"Yeah," she agrees quietly, then sneaks a side look at Jason and gives him a saucy grin. "I got to meet the Red Hood."
Girl's got spunk, I'll give her that. "You sure fuckin' did. That's gotta count for somethin'."
They're a block away from where the young woman says she lives, right in the heart of Crime Alley, when the promised storm finally breaks above them. They're both soaked through in seconds and Jason doesn't think twice when he grabs the backpack off the woman and tells her to run for it. She books it, and he easily keeps pace, even with the heavy load. Shit, if she hadn't had this on her, she probably coulda outrun the shit-stain that attacked her. Gotta be at least 30 pounds in here.
The young woman comes to a stop in front of a rather typical looking apartment building for the area. Six stories of old brick and one step up from being condemned. He lives in a similar building in the Bowery. She tugs her sweater close again and rain causes her long black hair to cascade in her face. Somewhere along the way, it had fallen out of the braid she'd had it in. "Do you…do you want to come up for a few minutes?" she asks bravely. "I don't have much, but I can make you some hot tea before you have to go back out in this. It's freezing."
Jason normally says no to the few invitations he occasionally receives from the people he's rescued over the years. They didn't need him around to remind them of their traumas, whatever those happened to be. He opens his mouth to do the same, but in that moment, lightning flashes bright across the night sky and there's a crack of thunder so loud Jason can feel his teeth rattle. The rain comes down even harder. Only in Gotham. Fuck. He sighs. "I don't usually do this," he says above the sound of the rain. "But tonight I'll make an exception."
The girl's grin is blinding.
They walk up three flights of rickety stairs. There are no lights on the stairs, just a bit of light streaming down from the hall lights at each level, but the young woman navigates them easily as she leads the way. When they reach her apartment, Jason's at least glad to see the door looks sturdy enough and when he follows her in, she easily slides a deadbolt in place too as she locks it. She hits a light switch by the door and an overhead light turns on.
Jason drops the sodden backpack to the floor and looks around. Small living room, small kitchen. Dark brown carpet that has definitely seen better days and the paint's faded to some dingy yellow that's cracked up in the corners by the ceiling. There's water stains around the windows, but no obvious drips. A short hallway leads down to what he assumes is at least one bedroom. Small though it was, it was clean and comfortable looking. Family pictures hung from the walls.
"Just…wait here a moment," the woman says. "I'll get you a towel and I'll…" she looks down at her sweater and grimaces. It's so soaked from the rain that it clings to her like a second skin. "I liked this sweater," she mutters with a shake of her head. "Be right back." She takes off across the small room and down the hallway.
Rather than stand still and drip on the carpet, Jason goes to the narrow kitchen and looks around. The set up isn't any different from that in his apartment. There are a couple of plates in the sink, but other than that, it's clean. Colorful hand-towels that have seen better days hang from the oven handle and there's another lying out on the counter with some dry dishes waiting to be put away. He smirks when he sees the teakettle waiting on the stove.
"Um, I got you a towel." The young woman comes back into the room in dry clothes and her black hair in a wild disarray from where she'd run a towel through it too. It was much longer than Jason expected and framed her face in a way that emphasized her high cheekbones and light caramel skin. She's a pretty one, that's for sure. Her brother must have fun trying to keep the boys away.
Jason steps out of the kitchen and takes off his sodden jacket, hanging it on the back of a chair in front of a small round kitchen table. He accepts the towel and carefully wipes his face and hair, making sure his mask is still in place before he lowers it and starts working on his pants. He's in just jeans and light body armor tonight.
The girl walks around him and fills the teakettle from the sink, swishing it around a bit before pouring the water out and refilling it. She sets it on the stovetop and turns on the heat. "It'll be just a few minutes." She stands there a bit awkwardly as she watches Jason dry off. "I'm Francesca," she says a moment later. "I just realized I never told you my name."
Jason shrugs. "Makes no difference to me," he replies easily. "I can't tell you mine."
"Oh, I know!" Francesca says quickly, a slight look of panic crossing her face. "That wasn't what I was going for. I mean, not that I was going for anything…Dammit, I'm just going to shut up now."
Laying the damp towel across his chair, Jason takes a seat and gives her a cocky grin. "You're fine. If it helps, this is a bit awkward for me too. Definitely not somethin' I do regularly."
Francesca grins back and seems to regain some of her confidence. "What should I call you? Red Hood is a bit of a mouthful."
"Like you're one to talk," Jason teases. "Hood's fine."
"Yeah, it is long," Francesca agrees. "But the alternatives are Fran or Frannie, and those just make me sound like an old white abuela."
"Frances?" Jason offers.
She makes a disgusted face. "Ugh, no! Just stop, I've heard them all."
Jason gives her a considering look while she grabs a couple of coffee mugs from a cabinet and takes out a tin of sealed tea. Glad to see it's not Lipton at least. What is that? He catches a hint of mint as she unseals the bag and pours a generous spoonful into a tea strainer.
Francesca catches him watching. "It's a hierba buena blend from a mercado in the Bowery. It's very minty and good for calming the stomach."
"I like mint tea."
Another grin comes his way and before she can say anything, the kettle goes off. She deftly prepares the tea and in a few minutes, takes a seat opposite of Jason and hands him one of the mugs. He holds the mug up and inhales the herbal and mint scent. "Smells good."
"Tastes good too." Francesca takes a small sip of the hot liquid and lets out a sigh. "Hood, thank you again for tonight. I'm sure it's not a big thing for you, but it is for me." She closes her dark brown eyes for a moment then opens them again to gaze directly at him. "It's just me and my brothers. If anything happened to me, it would destroy them both. We're all we have left."
Jason takes a sip of his tea. Okay, that's good. I need to find this store and buy some for my own stash. He listens as Francesca speaks. "What happened to your parents?"
"Mama died of pneumonia when I was 11. Papa was killed in a drive-by shooting when I was 14."
He lets out a low whistle. "Nice way to spend your formative years." How the hell did she not end up working the streets or stuck in a strip club somewhere?
Francesca lets out a rather unladylike snort. "I was pretty wild until I turned 15. Didn't care about anything, didn't listen to Marco or Antonio at all. I was going through a new boyfriend every month." She shakes her head in disgust at the memory. "All it took was a missed period for me to start getting my shit together. I wasn't pregnant, thank God, but the very thought made me realize just how much control I didn't have in my life." She paused and took a sip from her tea. "Sorry, I'm sure you don't want to hear about all that."
"Nah, don't worry about it. Sounds like you got things figured out." More than me. What the hell would I have turned out like if I got my act together at 15? I wouldn't have died, that's for sure.
"It wasn't easy." Francesca shook her head and let out another world-weary sigh. "I was so far behind, but it was right before I was supposed to start sophomore year. I was able to get into summer school and turned a lot of my freshman grades around. I've always been smart, but just didn't care enough. I hit my rock bottom though. I didn't want to be another teenage statistic."
She went on to talk about her two older brothers and how they were helping her with her dreams of going to college. The eldest, Marco, is in the Army and currently stationed overseas while the middle boy, Antonio, is a bartender/bouncer for some club down in Old Town. They both work hard so Francesca doesn't have to, but she makes sure the small apartment is kept clean and that a meal is waiting for her brother when he gets home. Jason's also surprised to learn she volunteers at the Free Clinic under Dr. Thompkins.
He chuckles at that. "Yeah, the Doc and I go way back. She's been putting me back together since I was about six."
"Yeah?" Francesca asks inquiringly. "Bet you've got some stories. Do you want some more tea?" she gestures at his mug, which has been empty for a while. "Or do you need to get going?"
It's only then that Jason realizes it's almost one in the morning. He's been sitting here for a good hour with the high school senior, listening to her story. It's…intriguing. Such similar shit happened to her and yet here she is, still able to smile and turn it all around. God, I hate playing the what-if game, but what the fuck would I be if I at least graduated high school? "I'd better not," he says and pushes his chair back, standing with a bit of a stretch and a roll of his heavy shoulders. "Thanks for the tea. It was good."
Francesca nods and hides her disappointment, but not well enough for Jason to miss it. "C'mon, chica. I'm the Red Hood. Not exactly the kind of guy your brothers would want you bringin' home." He puts on a self-deprecating grin.
"You'd be surprised," she replies. "Just about anyone would be better than the losers I used to date." She stands as well, picking up her mug and reaching over for Jason's. "But, I don't have time to date right now. This girl's got a goal and no man, no matter how cute and charming, is going to side-track me." Another of her saucy grins appears and Jason returns it with his signature cocky smirk.
"Good girl. I think I'm gonna keep an eye on you. See if you reach that goal."
"I don't know if I should be honored or afraid." Francesca dishes back as she takes the mugs to the kitchen and starts filling up the sink.
"That's for you to decide, Frankie." Jason waits for her reaction as he puts on his still damp jacket.
She doesn't disappoint. "Frankie?" she asks incredulously and turns to give Jason a look that would have anyone else quaking in their shoes. "The hell?"
"Better than all the other nicknames." He nods thoughtfully, then grins. "Yeah. Frankie. I like it."
Francesca shakes her head and Jason has the distinct impression that if he were anyone else, she'd be smacking him upside the head. "I take back what I said about you being cute and charming. You're an asshole."
"Now you're gettin' it." Jason gives her a mock salute. "It's been real, Frankie. In the interest of saving your carpet, I'll go out the front door. Make sure to lock up behind me."
He leaves to the sound of Frankie cursing up a storm behind him. Yeah, she's a fun one. Definitely gonna keep my eye on her.
Jason lets out a slightly pained sigh as he collapses hard onto the sofa in his apartment. For once, it's actually a decent one and a couple of throw pillows make it into a good one. Damp weather like this always exacerbates his old injuries, making him feel an ache that sometimes feels like it reaches into his soul. I'm getting too old for this shit. He laughs sourly at that. Since when is 23 too old for anything? If I lived a normal life, I'd be just hitting my prime.
He thinks back to the young woman he rescued earlier. Francesca Torres had just turned 18 a few weeks ago and is slated to graduate in the spring at the top of her senior class. Her whole family, what's left of them at least, is very proud of her and are doing everything they can to support her. The youngest of three and the only girl, her two older brothers do what they can to keep their noses clean (admittedly not easy in Crime Alley) and support her goals to make a real life for herself.
Christ, now there's an example of a family trying to make it work. That girl's got her head on straight. I wonder…I wonder what I would have done, if I'd only had the chance?
Jason doesn't let himself think about what might have been very often. The past is in the past and there's nothing he can do to change that. His choices, his decisions, have all led him to this point. But some nights, something happens that makes him wonder and dream the way he used to. Dreams of getting out of Crime Alley and making something of himself, dreams that kept him going even before he stole the tires off the Batmobile that fateful night. The one night that changed everything. Doors opened that Jason never even thought existed for someone like him. Doors that opened onto things that changed his life forever.
Doors that slammed in his face when he crawled out of his grave, alive but different from the boy he was before. Other doors opened, ones he willingly stepped through in pursuit of a single goal.
A goal that he's failed to achieve.
So what the fuck is left for me then, huh? Everything else I've tried has crashed and burned spectacularly. So what does it matter? I'm the Red Hood, a vigilante trained by Batman and the League of Assassins. I can kill people a dozen different ways with a single finger, blow shit up in my sleep, and take down crime lords and drive Bats insane in the process over the course of a single night. Or three, that crime lord thing can take a bit to set up and do it right. I just have to show up and it pisses Batman off.
Jason glances at his laptop, sitting closed on the beat-up coffee table. He opens it and stares blankly at the wallpaper, a simple quote that resonates more with him tonight than it ever has before.
"We know what we are, but not what we may be."
He opens his Web browser and starts searching. What else have I got to lose?