Run! Don't let them catch you! You're not like them anymore. They won't understand. They'll want you confined, caged, under their watchful control.

Leashed.

He ran, breaths ragged and painful. Bruised bare feet ached at every collision with the uneven roadway. He had no direction, no goal other than away. But he couldn't escape the silent shadows that followed his crazed flight like vultures waiting for death to come. Too late for that, he thought vaguely through the fog of confusion and fear and rage in his muddled mind. Something was very wrong with him, but he couldn't risk stopping to figure it out. He had to run.

He turned down an alleyway that smelled strongly of urine and mold, bathed in deep shadows after the bright streetlights on the main road. He could see better than he'd expected, however. He saw soggy newspapers and a dead rat and beer bottles… and a giant rusty dumpster that filled the entire alley, blocking his escape route. He panted as he slid to a stop and looked back.

A fist connected with his jaw, coming out of nowhere. He yelped and dropped to all fours automatically, trying to avoid his attacker's armored fists and boots. He scrambled to the side, hoping to slip around the dark and terrifying form.

A smaller shadow was there, less dark but still menacing as the kid swooped in, fists flying. Something about the bright red and yellow uniform made his anger build until he couldn't contain the howl of rage that broke out of his throat as he fought back. His sharp nails connected with the boy's chin and broke through the skin, drawing blood. The hot metallic scent of the stuff reached his nostrils and he was suddenly overcome by a need to hunt and kill and-

The blow came from behind, and he crumpled to the dirty ground, his head spinning as the world blurred and split into twos and fours-

"Who is he, Batman?" asked the smaller shadow. His voice was steady and controlled, but the scent of his underlying fear was overpowering in the suffocating confines of the alley. Yes. It smelled delicious.

Batman stood over him and said nothing, simply regarded his fallen foe. Gloating over his prey. Yes. He could even make out a twisted smirk as the Bat stepped closer.

He watched warily, still panting heavily from his frantic attempt at escaping this very moment. He growled low in his throat, a warning.

"Batman?" The kid stayed behind the Bat, but he peeked around to get a better look. "C'mon, let's restrain this freak already and call the cops."

No! He would NOT be leashed! Not now. Not ever. Panic flooded his mind, overwhelming any coherent thoughts he might have had about Batman and the kid who shouldn't be wearing those colors.

At that moment, the clouds shifted in the night sky above, revealing a full moon. He shifted. Suddenly that panic turned into something more animalistic and instictive: flight was not currently an option. That left only one way out of this.

Kill.

He leapt forward, powerful paws launching him into the air farther than any ordinary wolf ought to be able to fly. He slammed his forefeet into the center of Batman's chest, and the weight behind his jump was enough to knock the bigger Bat over. He snapped at the bit of flesh exposed under the cowl, but his deadly sharp teeth met an armored gauntlet instead as Batman's arm blocked him. Fine. They'd do this the hard way. He clenched his powerful jaws around the man's arm and wrenched it sideways, breaking bone.

Batman grunted and kicked him in the underbelly, throwing him off. He landed on his side and yipped as a broken bottle dug into his ribs.

His hackles stood on end as he faced an angry Bat, a fury only matched by his own thirst for blood. They circled each other, preparing for another round. The kid stayed where he was, watching the face-off with curiousity.

Then Batman's posture changed, his shoulders dropped, his fists loosened. He held his unbroken arm out, palm up. Sniff me, the gesture seemed to say. A trick. I won't hurt you. A lie. What was he doing? This had to be a trap.

He shied away, backing against the wall and growling again.

Finally Batman spoke. His voice was low and quiet. "Jason?"

That name. That voice. Echoes of faraway memories rumbled somewhere beneath the animal instincts.

Jason sniffed the outstretched hand. He smelled overstuffed leather chairs by cozy fireplaces, musty books worn by decades of loving thumbs, pumpkin bread baked by a man who radiated scents of cinnamon and good tea, buttered popcorn on a couch next to a freshly showered brother, s'mores and jokes and crisp autumn breezes around a patio under the stars…

Home.

But it wasn't his home. Not anymore. Not after… everything.

Jason Todd was dead, replaced by something less than human. He'd brutally killed when he lost control of the beast inside. He'd become a monster who didn't deserve to roam free, let alone find happiness in a home like that. There was no way Batman would let him return to that life now. It had to be a trap. Batman would try to lock him up in some dark, damp place, a cage with no view of the moon and stars.

He would never let that happen.

He gave Batman one long searching look, then turned tail and fled out of the alley into the cold and heartless October night.