"Keep ya head away from windows
Keep your arms inside the ride
Trust me with ya body, trust me with ya life
Banging on the windows, baby come inside
Certainly in trouble, maybe you should hide"

Donnie Trumpet and the Social Experiment, "Surf"


"You scare me, you know."

I worked the nerve to look Roy in the eye when he said that, his gaze on my hand as he stitched the skin back together. The glass from the TV laid bloody on a towel splayed out over the counter, and I'd been staring at that when he spoke.

He said, his hair hanging in his face, "Not just in the 'I'm worried about you' kind of way. Though I'm still pretty damn worried about what's going on with you. You scare me in the traditional way, too."

Guilt twisted in my side like a corkscrew. "Sorry."

"I'm not your housewife, y'know," Roy joked, turning my hand under his. "It's bullshit I have to worry like I am, baby on my hip and all."

"That mean I'm in the doghouse?" I rolled my eyes. "America is now gunning for my head and you're worried about me beating the fuck out of my old armor with a crowbar?"

He opened his mouth to retort, but my phone started to blare Metallica. Roy got up, retrieved it for me. "Barbara."

I pressed it to my ear with my free hand, my eyes watching Roy thread the needle through my flesh. "Yeah?"

"What are we going to do about this?" She panted down the line. "How could Lex possibly know that you were the Arkham Knight?"

"He didn't say it outright, but he didn't deny having been contacted by Talia," Something dark in my chest shifted, like a parasite clicking its maws. "And she could have easily riddled it out from what she took from me."

"This is bad, Jay...This is really bad."

"I know...Put Dick on the line." Roy finished the stitch, and stood by the doorframe, his shoulder leant against it. He could hear them talking on the line; the firehouse was too quiet for him not to.

"What do you mean? Dick isn't here-"

"He hasn't been here since yesterday, Barbara…Didn't say where he was going." A low laugh escaped me, and I failed to keep the smile off my face. I liked being right, especially on days where everything else felt wrong. "I know he's with you."

She sighed, and I could practically hear her cheeks reddening. "I'll get him."

"No need," His distant voice seemed cheerier than I'd seen in weeks. "I'm here. What's the plan about Luthor?"

"I think he should continue patrolling business as usual," Barbara suggested. "If he falls off the face of the earth, it'll only affirm what Lex is saying."

"Sounds like a better plan than I had."

"You can't assassinate a presidential candidate, Jason," Dick said, in that older brother voice when I got less-than-civil ideas about people I didn't like.

"People always say it can't be done until it's done," I scratched my stubble, ran a hand through my hair. "Last time I was seen in public, I was clean-shaven and my hair was dyed black, no white streak."

"Grow a beard," Dick said, "Worked fine with Bruce. It's like...step one for going underground."

I thought I was underground before. I rubbed the back of my neck. The dye had washed out, and my stubborn white streak was still in my hair, only to be sprayed when I needed to go to work. I frowned. "I'll have to quit my day job, though. I won't have those kids put in danger by a bounty hunter gunning for me."

"I'll talk to the administration for you," Barbara offered, her voice soft. She knew how I felt about that job, helping those kids. I thought about Jonas, the little street kid that loved stories. "And the rest of us will pitch in to keep your head above water."

"Okay, now I'm not so sure about that," My shoulders tensed. "I'm not living off you guys because of Lex Luthor."

"Tim's already got an off-shore account set up, and we've been saving it for this kind of thing," Barbara was getting as bad as the old man with her contingency plans. "Don't argue with me, Jason. Just take the money and patrol. You kept complaining that you hated the commute to Gotham High anyway."

I rested my back against the toilet's water tank, and said, "So...I get scruffy, wear sunglasses, rarely go outside, live off you guys, patrol at night, and what? Twiddle my thumbs?"

"It'll take about a week for the proper surveillance to be set up," Barbara sounded optimistic. "If you have any stops you need to make beforehand, I'd make them today."


"I know you can't hear me," I cleared the space in front of his headstone of leaves, and planted myself on it, legs stretched out. "But I don't care...I needed to talk to someone, old man. Might as well be you."

I pushed my back against the cold granite, the warmth leeched out of me only to be replaced by the flask I pulled out of my jacket. The whiskey filled the empty space in my chest, and I swirled the aftertaste on my tongue.

"You told me, ages ago, that you knew what it was like to have...him inside you," I propped my palm against my branded cheek, hiding it. The cemetery was empty as the grave I sat on, but I didn't want to take any chances. I bit my lower lip, before I spat the bitterness out. "You let us know months ago that he was really back, but I think on some level I needed him to be dead and on that level, I didn't believe you. But now I can't lie to myself anymore. He's back, Bruce. I saw him. Heard him laughing...It's really him. I know he's some doppleganger with my memories implanted in his head like an organ, but that's him. I know him."

I ran my thumbnail against the metal trim of the flask, pushed it in till it hurt. The autumn shivered me into my coat, and I tugged my hood over my head. I drank again, the last sip, and put the flask away. "You ever feel like...like he's in this little spot in the back of your head? He keeps your nightmares as pets, scratches their backs as he cackles through the bars? Even if he's in a cage, you still have him there. He's still present. You can still see him. Ever feel like that? Like your head is one big nuthouse, and he's in solitary, screaming for a bathroom break. So...so he goes right there, and after a while, you have to go in there to clean it because the smell leaks to everywhere else. But there's no guarantee he's gonna let you back out." My throat constricted, and I had to swallow twice to speak again. "I've got to clean, Bruce. I'm forced...to share space with him again after so long, and…"

I covered my mouth with my hand, and I'd never say this to his face. I'd never say this to him, or out loud to anyone else. The burning in my eyes got worse till it dripped down my cheeks. "I'm scared to be in a room with him again, Bruce. I'm scared to death of it. I've killed a lot of people, created horrors and put them down, but he's worse. He's so much worse, and I don't think I'm ready for this. I'm still scared of him."

I tried to imagine what he'd say, or how his face would pinch with anger, but it'd been two years since I saw the old man. His memory blurred in my midnight mind, and I never thought I'd ever pray to see his face again. I knew the edges. Sharp cheekbones, black brows, the downturn to his mouth, blue eyes that searched and scanned for emotion.

"This doesn't change anything between us, Bruce," I said through my teeth, my cheeks hurt from crying. "I still hate you for making them hide that file from me. I forgave you for my year in hell, and I hate you for that damn file...But…" I laughed, humorless and harsh. "That's my part, isn't it? Roguish shithead kid that slams the door on his father and then regrets it by the end of the movie? I'm laughing now, but it's actually kinda sad how true that is."

I wished I had more whiskey. It'd been a while since being declared a public menace, and drunkenness was a far lighter crime than domestic terrorism, worked better at what I wanted it to do than anaesthetic. I wanted to wipe myself clean, and feel nothing for a while. Work my two jobs, help Roy raise Lian, love my family, hate Bruce for that one thing, and pine after something that only was for a little while.

"I hate you, old man," And then I admitted to something I've needed to for years. One of those million things that should never have gone unsaid before I was kidnapped. "But right now, I could use my father. I need stability, someone I can...rely on, to be there. To ground me. Because right now, I'm in freefall. Everything in my life is in freefall - my health, my mind, my temper, my impulses...It's a wonder of medical science how I'm not fucking dead."

"I guess...what I'm trying to say is," I paused to get to my feet. "My second life's been weird, but the best part of my first one was you and Alfred." I pressed my palm over the engraving of his first name, chilled by the stone. "Wherever you are, Bruce...I hope you know that. And as much as I could use my father, from what Alfred tells me? You could use a son."

I stepped back, eyes on the tombstone before I turned to head back to my commute car. My night shift clothes were inside, helmet and all. The last skies of day were fading, and within minutes night would fall. There was something warm about the air, though, a rare evening when I wouldn't freeze on the higher skyscrapers.

When I got the call, something told me I'd found the reason. Dick on the caller ID.

"Jason, Clark just called Barbara."

I stopped in my tracks. "Is everything okay?"

"Better than that," Dick was running, and his glee barely contained in the line. "He's here, in Gotham. And you'll never guess who came with him."

He said her full name, the alias, slow and wonderful. My heart, long in hibernation, sprang to life and pounded in my chest. A hand came up to cover my mouth, because the smile beneath it held out just that tiny flicker of hope.

She hadn't forgotten about me. Against my warnings, against my instructions, the sun was out in Gotham City. I hung up on Dick, and sprinted for my car, which had never looked so good.

It took me three tries to get my key in the lock, my hands trembled from the jittering in my veins. I slid into the driver's seat and my tiles squealed as I raced out of the cemetery. I already had my armored pants on, I just needed to change into my chest armor, the jacket, gloves and hood. My fist slammed into the knob for the radio, a wild grin on my face.

All of my previous consternation about the whole enterprise evaporated in seconds, and all I could think about was the florist I needed to find in Chinatown. I was on the phone halfway between Jason Todd and Red Hood, shrugging off my black hoodie and trying to fasten my chest armor while driving.

I ordered sunflowers and roses and daisies, and at some point in the order, I said, "Fuck it. Get me four arrangements and throw everything in it."

I gave my name, the alias, and threw my phone into the back when I was finished. I clipped on my chest armor at last, armed my utility belts and holsters from a briefcase I kept in the car for night shift. I yanked on my jacket driving with my knee, did the clasps on the forearm guards, and pulled my gloves on with my teeth. I zipped it up to hide the red bat over my pounding heart as I entered the drive-through window in Chinatown.

My car was smelling floral as hell crammed to the brim with flowers, and I was singing Phil Collins at the top of my lungs on my way to Otisburg. For once, I drove at a reasonable speed and took in the neighborhood. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't freaking believe it. She hadn't forgotten about me. She came back. Dear God, she came back.

I checked my phone and Dick told me that she was staying at a hotel. In my haste to get to her, it hadn't dawned on me that she wouldn't be at her old apartment. He texted me the address and the room number Clark passed along. I changed course, my heart in my throat through every intersection. I felt nauseous, nervosa wringing me out like a wet rag. One foot on the gas pedal, the other bouncing beside it. I leaned forward, cursing at every red light.

I parked down a back alley away from the hotel, keen to avoid security cameras, and took a single daisy from the arrangement. If I was lucky, she'd see all of them tonight. If she wanted to stay in, it wouldn't matter. She'd see them in the morning. I didn't care. How could I?

Gail was home, and soon, I would be too.

I slipped my helmet on, tapped the side for the front to come down. I tucked the daisy into my utility belt, and grappled onto the building left of the alley. I spotted the hotel, breaking into a sprint. Aching limbs, be damned. Shattered sleep cycle, be damned. Drinking problem, be damned. Dark psyche, be damned.

My helmet isolated the balcony I needed to jump to, and the grappler propelled me up to it the same rate my hopes rose to the sky. I rolled over the banister and my boots met the ground soundlessly. I could hear music from inside, and nostalgia hit me like a wave of the times I'd hear records played out of her window.

The screen door was left unlatched, maybe she'd expected me to come. I pushed it aside and moved in. Two beds, two suitcases I assumed to be hers side-by-side by the hotel TV. The nightstand between the beds was on, as was the main bathroom light which crept out into the small kitchenette.

She stepped out of the bathroom with that Gotham U jersey, the holey one she'd worn when we met, a pair of shorts, and massaging a towel through her hair. A new piercing glittered at the top of her ear, dancing on the balls of her bare feet. The music was loud enough to drown out her soft singing, something by Nina Simone, and she came to the bedroom. She took off the towel from her hair, flipped it to hang in a damp tangle of gold down her back, and that's when she looked up to see me against the twilight outside her window.

Gail dropped the towel, a gasp trapped on her tongue with her eyes wide. I reached up and tapped the side of my mask, the front coming away and I saw her with my own eyes. I looked and breathed deeper than I had in a year.

"Jason?"

I sighed, my lips curled in a crooked smile. "Hey sunshine."

And then she climbed onto the bed to jump into my arms, her own around my neck as I twirled her in a circle. We laughed, tears came to our eyes and smeared between our cheeks pressed together, my heart soaring and searing in my chest. I put her down, my back to the bathroom, and touched my forehead to hers, laughing.

We were anxious kids again, like in the car before she got on that plane, whispering between us. "When Dick told me you were in town, I just...I couldn't stop myself. I know I'd told you that we couldn't, that I couldn't talk to you or...or anything, but...I-I couldn't stay away. I had to see you. I had to see you, Gail."

"Jason, breathe," She whispered, her hands on my face and I turned to kiss her palm. She smiled, her thumbs on my cheekbones. "I'm glad you came, but-"

"Hey babe, if you want to, we can-" The voice came from the bathroom, and I jerked my hands away from Gail like she'd burned me.

My spine straightened, and the smile fell off my face. I looked into her eyes, and I knew. A hole punched into me as I understood. She hadn't come back alone. I gritted my teeth, her frown a plunged knife into my side. My hand lifted slow, slow enough so she'd feel the depths as I removed her hands from my face. I tapped the side of my helmet, and the front came down. I turned and surveyed the wires of the bomb wedged into the hole in my chest.

He was my age, maybe a year younger. Lean, slender, broad shouldered, with the kind of swept over business haircut that Tim might wish for. His eyes were green, squinting at me as he held a towel around his waist and with the other hand, reached for her.

"Abby, who is this?" He said, and good Lord, did his Metropolis accent lay on him like a coat.

My fists balled at my sides. Her name was not Abby. Who the hell was Abby?

Gail walked around me, a hand on my chest that I stepped back from. "Frederick, this is...well…" She looked back at me, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. "This is…"

I grumbled, and unzipped my jacket to show him the red bat. I walked forward and held out my hand. Civility was my best option, even if all I wanted to do was throw him out the balcony. "Red Hood. I see Gail neglected to mention that she was bringing a tag-along."

"You're the Red Hood?" Frederick's mouth twisted to a smile, his shoulders sideways. He didn't believe me. "Prove it."

I smirked under the helmet, my hand falling to my side and I felt the familiar grip of my gun. "You don't want me to do that."

"Hood," Gail walked to his side, and I crossed my arms to avoid getting ideas as he draped his arm over her. "This is Frederick Roscoe."

"Her boyfriend," He strained to mention, pronouncing every syllable. "So if you're here to threaten her into not following the Luthor story, I won't allow-"

"-you think I'm here to threaten her?" If she weren't here, I probably would've thrown him over the balcony for insinuating what he just did. I laughed and shook my head, "I could never hurt her. I am incapable of it."

I turned my gaze on Gail and she stared at me. She knew what the rest of that statement was supposed to say. I was incapable of hurting her, but the reverse was far more likely.

"I was actually here to point her in the right direction," I said tightly, "Look into Luthor's investors. There's an alias to the investor from Egypt." Frederick bristled as I said, "Maybe you could fetch her coffee while she does that."

"I appreciate you coming here to tell me," She said, and her boyfriend looked between us, trying to get a read on our association. He'd be reading for a long time.

I wanted to tell her I didn't do it for her, but lying to her within five minutes of her return would be imprudent. I needed to get out of here. My mind thrummed, a stress headache circling my head like a painful crown too heavy.

"I'd better go," I said, and opened the screen door to the balcony. "While I'm in here with you two, crimes are being committed." I shot a glance at Gail over my shoulder, "Try to keep warm. It's going to be a cold night."

Gail squirmed, her cheeks red and her brows together. She followed me, slammed the door behind her, and a tense hand on my forearm had me stop, a leg over the railing. "Stop, you don't have to go because he's-"

"-what? Yours?" I said, keeping my voice low for her sake. I could see her boyfriend goggling us through the window. When she opened her mouth I cut her off, "You don't have to apologize for him. You moved on. I got it." I took my forearm out of her grip. "I told you we'd always be friends, it's just that now we're going to be just friends."

"Jason…" Her eyes were that stormy color, like Gotham Bay at midnight. She hugged her arms around herself, that lonely way that made me want to hold her. "Be careful."

"I will." I didn't have to force the smile, even if she couldn't see it. "...Good to see you."

"Good to see you too, mystery man," She had a hand on the doorknob.

I dove off her balcony, and right before I grappled to another building to head back to my car, I took the daisy out of my belt. I crushed it in my hand and left it in the gravel of a rooftop.