Jason woke up in a daze. Everything was muffled, his vision, his hearing. He thought he smelled bacon, but that could just be wishful thinking. Jason could hear humming, but it sounded like it was coming from a mile away. He murmured some nonsense then quickly passed out.
The next time he woke he felt sweaty, hot, and exhausted.
Someone was dabbing his face with a moist rag. "Shh, it's okay. You have a fever. Your body is fighting off an infection. That's what you get when you perform surgery on my kitchen table. Don't worry, I managed to get some broad-spectrum antibiotics to take care of it. You should be fine within another 72 hours or so."
Jason opened his eyes to see the same blond face that carried him out of the alley.
He didn't have the strength to stay awake, so he let the darkness take him again.
Jason's eyes snapped open. He was laying on a very old, very comfortable couch. It was possibly the ugliest thing he'd ever seen, faded floral printing and all. He lifted the blanket draped over him. Someone had changed him out of his clothes and patched him up. He ran his hand over his shoulder, a thick bandage laid where a piece of rebar had pierced his body, nearly killing him. It took some effort, but he could stand. He realized he was hooked up to an IV. Jason looked around the small studio apartment. It was old like all the furniture, but well taken care of. The wallpaper may have been peeling, and the linoleum floors scratched and torn in several places, but the place was spotless. His heart leapt as he spotted his shoulder holster and twin 1911's slung over the kitchen chair, along with his leather jacket. He noticed three bottles of Jack Daniels in the garbage, with several more bottles of liquor on the shelf. On the nightstand laid a set of dog tags.
Stephanie Brown. USMC.
He was impressed.
He ripped the IV out and gingerly slipped on his holster. The familiar weight of his guns made him feel at ease. He took them out and saw that they had been cleaned.
"Now to find a shirt…and pants."
Jason's head tilted towards the sound of voices coming from outside. He shuffled to the window and spotted the pretty blond girl, Stephanie he assumed, talking to a man.
Jason figured he was packing. The way he stood, loose heavy jacket on a warm day, and the random gun check. Every few seconds his hand would drift to his side, patting it. The man slipped Stephanie something in her hand, she gave him a few rolled-up bills. They exchanged some words and his hand floated towards her hair. She pushed it away forcefully, which made him angry. He grabbed her wrist with vigor and raised a fist. Jason reached for his gun, but before he could, Stephanie broke the man's grip and throat punched him. He dropped to his knees hands clasped around his neck, struggling to suck down air. She then threw a stiff right knocking the man out cold. She bent over and retrieved her money.
Jason chuckled. Double impressed.
Steph walked back into the building. Jason stood by the window as he heard her climb the stairs to the second floor apartment. The door opened and she stopped in the doorway.
"You're up." Her eyes wide. "You really shouldn't be walking around."
Jason shrugged his good shoulder. "S'fine. Thanks for cleaning my guns for me. And grabbing my jacket."
Stephanie closed the door behind her, locking the several deadbolts and attaching the chain. "You're welcome. Sit down. I need to take your vitals, and replace your IV."
Jason frowned. "I don't need it. I should really be going."
She gave him a deadpan look, then motioned to the kitchen chair. "I said. Sit."
Jason quirked an eyebrow, then did as he was told. "Just so you know, I'm doing this, because I want to."
She snorted. "Uh huh."
She made quick work of the first aid Jason needed. "You're healing…fast. You're not a meta are you?"
Jason shook his head. "Took a special bath a few years ago, I heal a little faster than normal for now. Eventually it'll wear off." He caught her eye. "Did you really get the piece of rebar out of me?"
"Sure did. Had to lay you out on my kitchen table to get it done, since you kept saying how you couldn't go to the hospital. Though I can't imagine why the Red Hood doesn't feel comfortable going to the hospital."
It wouldn't take a genius to put two and two together.
"Why didn't you call the cops on me?" Asked Jason.
Steph stopped what she was doing and thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. You've never hurt any innocent people as far I know. I think you scare the bad guys worse than Batman. And you needed medical attention, not a pair of handcuffs.
Jason nodded. "Well. Thanks."
She gave him a small smile before standing and retrieving a can of soup from her cabinet. "You need to eat something light."
Jason stood up, with more strength this time. "Listen I don't need someone doting on me. I can take care of myself."
Steph had already opened up the can and began heating it up. "Shut up and sit down."
He glared at her, but dropped it when he realized she didn't care what he thought. "Okay one meal, then I'm out of here. I have to leave before dark."
She went about making a sandwich for herself. "You mean leave before Batman hits the streets."
Jason bit back a witty retort. She was right. Bruce would expect Jason to have fled the city, but that doesn't mean he wanted to risk staying in Gotham and running into him. He wasn't ready to meet Bruce.
Not yet.
Everything had fallen apart. He'd lost most of his weapons, his army, the gang leaders and Black Mask. He failed to accomplish all he set out to do.
No, that's not completely true.
He confronted Bruce. He had shown his old mentor the scars of his past.
Steph placed a steamy bowl of chicken noodle in front of him. "So what's next for you?"
Jason looked her in the eye, but didn't have an answer for her.
That was a good question.
What was Jason going to do?
What did he want?
Jason shook his head and slurped his soup. He could picture Alfred cringing at the sound and smiled on the inside. "So, Stephanie Brown, ex-marine, what do you do for a living?"
She didn't seem surprised that he knew her name or some of her past. "I'm a bartender at the Royal Crown."
Jasons eyes widened. "Isn't that in Crown Point?"
She smiled. "Hence the name."
His mouth twisted into a grin. "That's, uh, a pretty rough spot."
Steph gave him a cocky look. "I can take care of myself."
"Clearly." He murmured into his soup.
Crown Point was one of the roughest parts of Gotham, and the Royal Crown was at the center of it. It wasn't out of the ordinary for the Royal Crown to be chock full of Gotham's worst.
He put his spoon down the soup was still too hot. "Were you a medic in the military?"
She shook her head. "I was a third-year surgical resident at Gotham Memorial."
A cellphone buzzed quietly on the countertop. Steph picked it up with a smile. "Hey Cindy."
The smile quickly faded as the conversation progressed. "Okay, okay slow down…You're still with him?... I know sorry…Oh God, okay. I'll leave in like ten minutes. I'll be there in a little while. Get to a motel in the meantime and text me the address."
Steph hung up and thought for a moment, her mouth pulled into a deep frown. "You need a ride out of here?"
Jason nodded, knowing where this was going.
Steph paled. "I'm going to Chicago; I might need your help. My sis-"
Jason held up a hand. "I owe you."
She gave him a sad smile. "Thank you.
It only took Stephanie ten minutes to pack. Along with her clothes she packed a Glock 19 and an MP5, a nice, compact semi-automatic machine gun.
Jason raised his eyebrows at the sight of her guns. "Do we plan on running into much trouble in Chicago?"
She never stopped moving. "Its rough town. You ready?"
He nodded, and they both piled into her small Honda Civic.
Jason had done a quick inventory on the rest of his supplies. Four spare clips, one concussion grenade, three throwing knives, and one batarang. He didn't even have his special ka-bar knife, or his helmet. He checked his pockets, feeling the familiar picture he kept with him at all times. Even in his darkest, most hatful moments, he never threw away that picture. When he slipped on his jacket he felt the picture tucked neatly inside. She had definitely seen it, but was courteous enough not to bring it up.
"So you used to be Robin huh?" she asked.
So much for courteous.
Jason cleared his throat. "Yeah."
Her eyes lit up. "Is that it? What happened? From what I remember Robin, just kind of stopped showing up. Rumor was it that he died."
"Because I was dead. Then I wasn't." He replied flatly and switched subjects. "What kind of help will you be needing?"
Stephanie bit her lip. "The kind of help that comes with prison time."
Jason chuckled. "Tell me what I need to know."
She nodded and let out a slow, unsteady breath. "Okay, my sister Cindy has been seeing this guy, Marcus. He's an asshole, addict slash dealer slash all around shitty person. And now they're pregnant, or was." She shook her head. "My sister gave birth to her baby daughter, Sophia a week ago, she didn't even tell me she was pregnant. Well, asshole Marc owes a lot of money to some big time baddie. Apparently he shot up all his supply and the guy wants his money. They sent someone to collect and Marc ended up killing him. Since Marc is in the wind, the debt is now on my sister, and since my sister is broke they took Sophie for as collateral."
Steph's eyes shimmered, and her grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Jason kept his eyes forward, he didn't do well with public displays of emotion. "Well then, we get your niece back. And I takeout a mobster."
"Damn straight." She said under her breath.
They drove on in comfortable silence. Jason could relate to Stephanie. He would do anything for Barbara or Dick. Despite his past actions, he still cared for them deeply and would fill entire grave yards for them if necessary. Would they do the same?
No, they would not. They would do the hero thing. Trying to save everyone, sacrificing themselves in the process. Too much Bruce in them.
Bruce.
He felt his hands begin to clench, but stopped. He didn't feel that familiar burning deep in his chest anymore. It was merely a flicker of its former self. The pain and hate was still there, but worn over. Jason was disappointed to see it gone. He felt empty. So much of what drove him all these years was his anger. What would motivate him now?
Jason thought back to his first conscious thought.
He had been wandering for days, in Turkey maybe? Being on the run was exhausting. Jason wasn't really a man yet, operating only on instinct. He was wrapped in rags sitting in an alleyway, when out of the corner of his eye a newspaper article caught his eye. More specifically the picture. He snatched it before it flew away. On the front was an all too familiar bat symbol. His head began to hurt. Why did he feel so utterly disappointed…so betrayed? What did this symbol mean to him? Painful flashes of memory crossed his mind.
A mansion.
Training…pushing himself to the absolute limit. A desire to prove himself.
A single name, a single figure, burned in his brain.
Bruce Wayne. Batman.
The man he looked to as a son would a father.
He let Jason die.
Jason would make Bruce pay, but first he needed to prepare.
Jason stood and let the rags fall to the ground. He needed information.
It was time for Jason to complete his training, without the Batman.
The young man looked out the window. It had been a long journey, but he wouldn't be the warrior he was today without it. Whatever motivated him from here on out, it made no difference. He would help Steph out. He had to be careful though. He wasn't as well armed, informed, or even 100% healthy this time around. Jason also couldn't go around killing everyone this time. That would attract far too much attention.
Well maybe he could just kill the one guy…