Note: hi guys, thanks for your patience. had to take a little break for the holidays and also just to recuperate. belated merry christmas/happy holidays to you all! oh, and happy new year, too!

anyway, this one's a long one! So grab a snack and happy reading :)


Chapter 37: For You

"Master Damian."

Alfred appeared in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back and gaze splitting between Damian and Jess. "I apologize for the intrusion, but Ms. Langley is here for your fitting."

"That was not scheduled for tomorrow?"

"It was, but unfortunately she needed to make some rearrangements. Your father will be home soon, so you can be up first."

"Very well."

Damian looked at Jess as the butler retreated, nodding his head to indicate that she should follow. Curious, she trailed behind the two of them through the manor until they reached one of the living rooms.

"Is this for that gala thing you were talking about the other day?" she asked.

"Yes," her friend answered. "In fact, I was going to—"

"Mister Damian Wayne!"

An elderly woman, possibly in her late sixties or even seventies, hunched over in a colorful shawl was approaching them slowly from across the room. Alfred stood by, smiling, while another middle-aged man waited patiently with a measuring tape around his neck. Jess watched as the woman clasped Damian's hands and looked him up and down with a bright smile that reflected in both her wire-framed glasses and brown eyes.

"Look at you, Mister Damian. I did not think it was possible, but you've grown more handsome since the last time I saw you." Her voice was slightly shaky and slow but full of enthusiasm.

The corner of his mouth was lifting as he returned, "Ms. Langley. It's a pleasure to see you again."

"Oh, come in, come in. I have been holding onto our only order of Canali's latest black wool tuxedo just for you—And who is this pretty young lady?"

The blood rushed to Jess's face as Ms. Langley finally took notice of her behind Damian, stepping forward to take a better look at her over her glasses. Before she could answer, he was speaking while looking from Jess back to the woman.

"Ms. Langley, this is my good friend, Jessica Fairchild."

Clearing her throat, she extended her hand and smiled. "Hello, it's so nice to—"

"Ah, such pretty eyes," Ms. Langley cooed in awe as she grabbed Jess's hand in both of her cold ones. "So big and stunning like a doll!"

"Oh, um, thank you," Jess replied with a shy laugh. She could feel Damian's lingering gaze — she even saw it in the corner of her eye as she smiled at the woman who was releasing her hand and reaching once again for him.

Pulling him into the room, she rattled off, "Canali's newest black wool will look handsome on Mister Damian… You remember Gerald, don't you?..."

Jess watched as Ms. Langley and the man who must've been her assistant positioned Damian before a floor-length mirror, patting his arms and legs and stretching the tape across his limbs. She was suddenly aware of Alfred's presence at her side, an entertained expression on his face.

"Ms. Langley has been fitting the Wayne family since Master Bruce's parents. She's a bit of a nutty old woman, often repeats herself nowadays with her age, but she is excellent in her work," he said quietly as the two of them continued to watch. "Her shop carries some of the best garments for anyone willing to spend the money in Gotham. Loves to customize and order exquisite pieces especially for Master B and, well, Master Damian. They're the only ones who wear a good suit lately."

"Have you grown taller, Mister Damian?"

"No, ma'am. I am still the same height as I was the last time we met."

Jess couldn't help noticing how unusually kind and respectful her friend was being towards the old lady. Not that she was surprised or that she'd expected him to act otherwise, but it was sort of heartwarming listening to the particular, gentle note in his voice. He was even smiling at her in that very subtle, gentle way that he rarely did... It was sweet, actually.

Gerald was retrieving what must've been Damian's suit from a garment bag just as Alfred excused himself from the room. Deciding not to stand awkwardly by the door, Jess made her way to the loveseat nearby and curled up on it. She looked on in fascination, watching how the old woman worked and interacted with Damian, insisting that he go and try on the clothing she'd brought him.

When he returned from the hall, Jess couldn't help staring for a moment. Now, she'd always known her friend was the kind of guy whose attractiveness and good looks turned heads everywhere he went, no matter what he was wearing, but this time, something about his allure was different. Until now, she'd never seen Damian in a tuxedo much less a suit. The material was black and velvet, accentuated by shiny, satin lapels that seemed to match his dark hair almost perfectly, and the white shirt underneath was pristine and bright. He was reaching up to adjust the bow tie just as Ms. Langley clapped her hands and scurried towards him.

As the young man stood there, waiting patiently as the old woman and assistant bustled around his figure to check measurements, his green-eyed gaze met Jess's across the room. She couldn't have explained why or how, but it felt like he'd caught her stare — she definitely hadn't stopped looking at him since entering the room, yikes — which had her face warming suddenly.

"What do you think, Miss Jessica?"

Blinking, Jess tore her gaze away and found all three of them looking at her, something similar to amusement in the way Damian was eyeing her.

Well, that's just great.

"Um… perfect. He looks—I mean, it looks perfect on him."

Ms. Langley didn't seem to notice Jess's nervous laugh as she turned to Damian with a beaming smile. "There is nothing a woman loves more than a handsome man in a handsome suit."

More embarrassment flushed her body — that comment was about her, wasn't it? Pushing the intrusive thoughts from her mind, the teen watched as the woman stepped back to examine Damian once more.

"Is Miss Jessica being fitted as well?"

Confusion washed through her just as he answered, "Yes, I think that would be appropriate."

"Wait… what?"

He seemed unfazed, unbuttoning the tux jacket and tugging at the sleeves. "I would like for you to join us at the gala."

Dumbfounded, she took a moment to process what he'd said. His emerald greens finally rested on her, prompting her to say something and not sit there like an idiot. "Oh. I don't know about that, Dami…"

"'Dami,' oh, how sweet," Ms. Langley was cooing from nearby.

Damian paid no attention to her, shrugging off the jacket so Gerald could examine the white undershirt he wore beneath. "No need to worry about a gown or jewelry. Ms. Langley is more than capable of finding you something as long as she fits you."

Her gaze flickered over his tuxedo, his very obviously expensive tuxedo with a price tag she was sure she didn't want to know.

"I don't think—"

"You won't have to pay a dime, Jessica," he said smoothly, eyes still on her.

That had her shaking her head and sitting up on the loveseat. "That's really thoughtful of you, but I can't let you do that."

Gerald and Ms. Langley were oblivious to the way Damian and Jess were silently communicating across the room. His eyes were full of determination (and stubbornness), hers blazing with warning. He knew she didn't want him paying for anything for her, not after the scholarship fiasco and, well, everything else he'd done for her. Of all things to bicker about, her friend's generosity was definitely not something she would have foreseen to be one of them.

Just as the teen was thinking of ways to get out of this predicament, both Bruce and Selina were entering the room. Everyone turned to greet them, and Jess vaguely wondered if it had been his or Damian's idea to have her come along.

Ms. Langley was latching onto the older Wayne's arm and hauling him towards the mirror when Damian left to change out of the tux. By the time he was back, dressed in his sweater, Jess was still determined to talk him out of this bizarre notion that he'd pay, what, hundreds of dollars for a dress she'd probably wear one night? Maybe even thousands?

He made his way to join her at the loveseat after thanking Ms. Langley and Gerald, who were fussing around Bruce's tall figure now. Selina was standing nearby, a smile on her face as she watched her fiancé receive compliments from the old woman.

"Damian, I can't let you—" Jess began in a low voice.

"I insist," he interrupted her as he rested his elbows on his knees. "Besides, we are both aware there is no way you can stop me."

"You are unbelievable."

"I would like for you to attend."

"What's so great about these fancy things anyway besides pretty dresses and good food? Actually, I can understand the good food."

"Nothing, which is precisely why I want you there."

Jess saw the way he was looking at her, seriousness mixed with sincerity in those intense green irises. Maybe she was just being stubborn to be stubborn… but it simply didn't sit well with her that he was so willingly to drop money like that on her like he always did. He wanted her to attend that badly?

"You know I would say yes if it weren't for the fact that I'm scared of how many digits will be on the receipt. Also… haven't we had this same conversation recently about my ring?"

"You can borrow one of my dresses."

The two of them looked up to see Selina standing before them, obviously having overheard their conversation. Arms crossed, she ran her gaze over Jess and tilted her head.

She mused, "I believe we're around the same height. I've got more than a few gowns and even shoes I'd be willing to lend you."

Jess waved a hand. "That's really nice of you, Selina, but—"

"You should join us," the older woman told her with a confident nod. "Sure, it's probably just another extravagant event for Gotham's elite to show up and take a few pictures, but it's also an opportunity to dress up a little and have fun."

The teen couldn't respond right away. She looked over to see Damian watching her, something of a faint smirk on his face. "What're you grinning at?"

"It's either a dress I pay for or one courtesy of Selina," was all he said.

"Either way, Ms. Langley will need your measurements," Selina jumped in.

Jess sighed, looking over to see Bruce laughing at something Ms. Langley had said. "I have no other choice, do I?"

"It'll be fun," Selina assured with a sly smile, her eyes glittering. "I can already think of a few pieces that would look amazing on you.

"What do you think, Damian?" she asked, turning to her soon-to-be stepson. "A pretty olive to bring out her eyes, gold to complement her hair, or soft blue for her skin?"

Despite the number of people in the room, Jess suddenly felt distant from them at the once-over her friend gave her. Somehow, for some reason, it made her stomach churn a little bit and her skin flush with tingles. Bruce and Ms. Langley's voices sounded muffled, and Selina appeared miles away from them in the corner of her eye. Jess wanted to look away when his eyes met hers, when she noticed how long he held them... but she didn't.

"Surprise me," he finally said, his face unreadable just as Ms. Langley called him over.

Excusing himself, Damian stood and met the woman where she was standing with his father. From where she sat, Jess couldn't help letting her gaze follow him as something fuzzy, something strange, something… warm settled in her bones.

What the hell was going on with her?


She had settled on olive green.

It was not a color most people would choose, certainly not for an occasion like this when gowns were usually a dreary black, white, or boring shade of blue, but Damian did not care.

The satin silhouette appeared to have been made for Jess, adhering perfectly to a body shaped by years of balletic training and sharpened by athleticism. The low, draped neckline was held up by spaghetti straps as thin and delicate as the exposed collarbones they rested upon, and her entire back was on display like a blank canvas that his hands yearned to brush over. A long slit in the dress invited any wandering eyes that lacked enough control, opening up to a bare thigh and down to gold heels matching her minimal jewelry.

Selina had been more than right; the dress accentuated her eyes and everything else about her beyond what he had imagined.

And those very eyes were waiting, watching him with an endearing combination of curiosity and timidity.

It took too long to find the right words.

"You look…"

Adjectives and their counterparts ran through his head as if he were flipping through a thesaurus, searching for a word that would be enough, yet none of them were right.

He needed poetry, a barren page in his sketchbook… and time. Much more time.

There it was, that pale shade of pink blossoming beneath her skin — and to know it was his doing didn't fail to inflate his ego just a little bit. Lavender teased him as she stepped forward with a hand reaching for the front of his tuxedo. It was as if she was afraid to touch the material.

"I don't know," Jess disagreed softly as her gaze ran over his figure. "You really make this suit, Dami."

He had to resist the urge to sweep her brunette waves over her shoulder as she suppressed a grin.

"And as much as I like a little healthy competition, I think we have a clear winner."

"I must respectfully disagree."

As gently as the words had left his mouth, Damian took the small, floral-shaped pendant of her necklace that had been backwards and flipped it back over. The invisible pull in his hand was forceful; his fingertips never left her skin as he took his time trailing them across her collarbone and down her shoulder. To his highly-trained eye, goosebumps were rising in the path he'd traced, and he wanted so badly to kiss them.

She hadn't answered him still. Her widened gaze was following its own trajectory from where his fingers finally left her skin and up to his patient eyes, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he'd overstepped.

He was formulating an apology when he caught the way her hazel irises seemed to skim over his face and then rest on his mouth, contemplation heavy in them. Her parted lips were pinker and shinier than usual — lip gloss perhaps, but they called to him nonetheless, begging to be grazed by his own.

Whether he would have acted on this urge or daydreamed about it like before, Damian wouldn't have known. Jess was stepping away from him with shy eyes that flickered between his and then fell to the floor.

She cleared her throat. "Guess we should get going before they come looking for us."

And then she drifted down the hall, taking all his desires and missed opportunities with her.


Surely she had realized at one point that there was room for more in their friendship. Had she ever seen it, the possibility, when looking at him with what was first an innocent glance? Had she ever felt it transform into something novel as if she were seeing him for the first time and in a new way?

Had she ever witnessed two sides of herself warring with one another, pitting doubt against confidence, fear against wonder and curiosity?

There was no angel in this scenario, no. There were two devils, weighing down his shoulders and each offering their own sense of security with a side of adverse repercussions: were he to pursue these newfound feelings for his best friend, Damian might have to eventually shed light on his darkest secrets and face the undeniable likelihood that their intimacy would breed danger — more than what he already faced every day. In contrast, he could keep her safer and far from the skeletons in his closet, in turn sacrificing the freedom to call her his, to hold her in meaningful embraces that were more than platonism… perhaps to love her in the way she deserved.

His feelings and desires would come at the price of her safety and trust, yet could he easily trade being with her for protecting both his secrets and her heart?

Emerald eyes discreetly followed her into the night, watching the musical way in which her dress drifted about her legs as they approached the five-star hotel, how the corners of her mouth broke out into kind albeit shy smiles at his father's introductions like a sunset peeking through a thick treeline. He allowed her to grasp his hand and pull him towards the refreshments to satiate her childish desire in "testing" the food, gossiped about other guests with her and Alfred — everything he did tonight was done with the same question in the back of his mind that had little to do with anything else. It was one that had arisen in the days following the night he'd almost kissed her, and in hindsight, the young man found it a good idea that he hadn't.

Both options were selfish in their own right, and if anyone was familiar with the concepts of greed and excess self-regard, it certainly was him.

So all things considered: How selfish was Damian Wayne willing to be?


To say she felt completely out of her element was an understatement. Jess had never really attended events that warranted long, fanciful gowns, flashy tuxedos, and a snack bar of food she couldn't pronounce. Everyone around her just seemed so regal, elegant…

Rich. Definitely rich.

While she waited for Damian to return from mingling with some guests who'd insisted on having a conversation with him, she took up an empty chair at one of the many round tables, figuring she'd do some people watching. It was something she'd done plenty of while living on the streets, even during her time with Jax and the gang. People-watching was one of the easiest ways to get a read on someone, whether it was a target, their constituents, or just a general group of people.

Here, the guests wore respectful smiles, laughed at jokes, displayed eagerness to hear what their business friends were up to. These people carried themselves with almost the same pride and confidence that Damian did, shaking hands, kissing cheeks, nodding sincerely. Jess could feel the difference between her and everyone here, but she doubted anyone would really notice unless she somehow made it obvious.

Before she could consider meandering to the snack table or finding something more tasteful than the water at each table, she was suddenly aware of someone sitting beside her.

"Is this your first time at a gala?"

A young man wearing a crisp, black tuxedo (like every other man in the vicinity) was smiling at her. He was handsome in the boyish kind of way with dark, wavy locks combed perfectly across his forehead and a glint in his dark eyes. If Jess had to guess, he wasn't much older than her, probably around Damian's age.

"Guess I'm a little more obvious than I thought," she answered with a smile, watching as he extended a hand towards her.

"Ian."

"Jess."

His hand was warm as they exchanged a gentle handshake. "What brings you here then, Jess, if this is your first time?"

"What, donating to the children's hospital isn't a good enough reason?"

She wasn't sure what had prompted the droll response, but just as she was about to debate apologizing, Ian was chuckling. "Touché. I apologize, I was just looking for an excuse to strike up a conversation with you. I don't believe I've seen you at these events before."

It took a moment for her to understand; once she did, Jess knew her cheeks were turning pink as the heat flooded her face and neck. Should I have seen this coming? I should've seen this coming, huh. The way he was looking at her definitely didn't help — in response, all she could do was laugh a little and shift in her seat under his gaze.

"Uh, well, yes, this is my first gala… charity… thing here in Gotham," she managed to respond.

"You're new to the city then?"

Tilting her head, Jess wondered what the best answer was. She wasn't really "new," yet the only reason she was there at such an event was because of Damian. Until now, they'd never attended things like this together.

She cleared her throat and settled on explaining, "I'm not new to Gotham, but I'm just here with a friend."

Ian was opening his mouth to reply when there was movement in the corner of Jess's eye: Damian had arrived and was promptly seating himself beside her with an aloof expression on his face.

The two of them barely had time to react when he caught the attention of a passing waiter with two raised fingers. "Two Collins, please, virgin, and—" his darkened, cavalier gaze flickered to Ian for a split second, "—one cranberry juice."

Despite not having a clue about what was going on, Jess felt the immediate passive aggression that flowed; it was so tangible that it had her shifting in her seat uncomfortably. They were eyeing one another like they'd forgotten she was sandwiched between them. And what the hell was Damian doing? His attitude was edged by standoffishness, but at the same time, his posture boasted arrogance… the kind that was more intense than what he usually gave off on any other day. He leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table, green eyes still on Ian like he didn't want him out of his sight.

At her other side, the young man was adopting a quick smile as he greeted, "Damian."

"Caufield," Damian returned smoothly.

"I appreciate the drink," he said, "but, in case you didn't know, I don't much like cranberry juice."

"Is that so? My apologies."

Except he looked far from remorseful. There was an air of mockery around Damian, emphasized by the challenging glint in his eyes. Neither of the young men still had looked at her.

Damian tilted his head. "Perhaps you still have time to flag him down."

Ian chuckled humorlessly, and then Jess was clearing her throat. They both glanced at her.

"How do you two know each other?" she finally asked.

"Our fathers work together," he answered with a smile.

Beside her, Damian corrected, "His father works for mine." His gaze landed on Jess, and she couldn't help wondering why the scornful gleam in those emerald greens almost felt… dangerous.

The other young man was scoffing lightly and then shaking his head. "Yes. My father technically works for yours."

"There is nothing technical about it, Caufield. Your father's paychecks might as well be handwritten by Bruce Wayne."

Maybe she shouldn't have been feeling secondhand embarrassment, but the warmth in her face wasn't pleasant at all and neither was this suffocating tension.

"Damian," Ian began, adjusting his jacket, "I hope you'll pardon my frankness. As exciting as it always is speaking with you, you did interrupt a lovely conversation we were having."

Sparks seemed to ignite across the table between dark eyes and green ones.

"That's alright. I doubt Jessica was interested at all in what you had to say."

Jess's eyes nearly bugged out of her skull. "Damian!" she scolded.

He didn't even spare her a glance, but Ian's awe-filled gaze was flickering from her to Damian.

"Oh... You two know each other," he said slowly as if waiting for his brain to fully comprehend the situation.

"More like we arrived together," Damian cut in bluntly, his emerald greens flashing.

Understanding dawned on Ian's face as his gaze bounced between the two, and then he was standing from his chair. "Right, well, I suppose I've gotten the hint now. If I disturbed you, Jess, I apologize. Enjoy the rest of your evening," he said with a smile.

Shaking her head, Jess began to insist, "Oh, no, it's okay…"

Suddenly, he had her hand in his and was bending down to kiss it. Too stunned to react, Jess watched him walk away and disappear into a group of guests nearby. When she finally regained her bearings and turned to Damian, she caught his irritated gaze straying in the direction Ian had gone.

"What was that, Damian?"

"A rat," he answered flatly, not meeting her eyes.

"No, I mean what was… that? You two were practically ready to rip each other's throats out."

Damian exhaled sharply before leveling his hardened gaze with hers. "Mr. Caufield, Ian's father, is on the board of directors for Wayne Enterprises. Not long ago, he vied for next-in-line when my father retires — whenever that may be. I would much prefer a lowly desk secretary to assume control over the company to Mr. Caufield."

"But what does that have to do with Ian?"

"Ian is as much a nuisance as his father. I've interacted with him on more than one occasion and only grown to dislike him more each time."

Brows furrowed, Jess asked, "Why? He seemed pretty nice, even after you showed up and started being a little rude—"

"Ian Caufield is what you would call a 'player,' Jessica." His eyes were alight with annoyance, making Jess pause in her judgment. "He goes through pretty, young women like his mother goes through her jewelry — which is too often."

Huh. Well, she definitely wouldn't have guessed that by the way the young man had been treating her… but if that was how he wooed girls like her, then it made sense. It's not like you're exactly a pro at picking the good guys, a voice said in the back of her mind. And clearly, Damian's perception of him was one that justified this strange rescue mission.

It wasn't really out of the ordinary, how blunt and straightforward he'd been with his entrance and the way he'd spoken to Ian. If anything, it was expected. But something about her best friend being protective had her stomach filling with queasiness in a manner that was sort of… familiar. Everything from the way he'd intentionally ordered a drink Ian didn't like to lacing his words with undisguised hostility should've annoyed her, right?

Instead, Jess was sort of... flattered.

Straightening up in the chair, she dismissed the odd, fluttery feeling in her gut. "Sure you weren't just a little jealous?" she teased.

There was the briefest pause between them while his gaze ran over her face and back up to her eyes so quickly she almost missed it.

"There is nothing about Ian Caufield that I envy."

The waiter returned, relieving Jess from Damian's intense gaze as he set two red drinks with orange peels on the table. The ice in the fruity beverage nearly gave her a brain freeze.

"And what if I wanted to get to know him?" she asked mid-flinch.

The question had those green eyes snapping back onto her, just as she'd expected. "I would advise strongly against it," he answered promptly, "because you would be making a mistake similar to the last one you made."

At that, bitter memories flitted through her mind, and she found herself inhaling deeply before reaching for her drink. The drama with Kade and all those dumb rumors at school seemed to have blown over for the most part; her peers still stared at her sometimes, and every now and then, she'd catch his familiar, blond hair in the hallway, but overall, things were quieter now and she hardly ever saw him, thankfully. (Her bargain with him was working out so far.) Maybe it was partially because final exams were coming up before the holiday break — was there a chance Kade had managed to squash all the gossip after their confrontation?

Not likely.

"Then I guess it's a good thing having you around to steer me away from the ones that scream trouble. You really wanted to get rid of him."

Damian said nothing. He was staring at her in that way, like he had been back at the manor—

A loud bang had Jess nearly jumping her seat, the cold liquid from her drink spilling down her hand. Whipping around, she saw that a group of masked men in dark clothing had burst through the closed ballroom doors, eliciting a few shrieks and gasps from the guests. Every single one of the men wielded a submachine gun or rifle of some sort as they spread out into the perimeter and in a line that blocked the doors.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she glanced at Damian, catching the grim look on his face. Several gunshots to the ceiling evoked more screams as the man in the middle observed the shocked crowd.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he called loudly. "Sorry to interrupt your lovely evening, but I promise we won't be long."

A guest nearby had broken from his frozen state, scrambling to the back of the room, but the nearest masked man grabbed the back of his tuxedo and sent the butt of his gun into his temple, knocking him out. Breathing heavily, Jess tore her gaze from the unconscious guest and looked back at the man apparently in charge of the bust-in.

"The next person to do what he did gets a bullet instead!" he shouted before stepping forward. "Now, what we're asking for is simple: you lot are the richest citizens in Gotham, and while we think it's real admirable supporting the children and whatnot, we think it'll be a bit more fair if you give to us, too.

"So here's how it's gonna work, ladies and gents: you're going to line up in front of every single one of these men here and drop your precious jewelry into the bags they're holding. This includes earrings, necklaces, bracelets, cufflinks, all of it…"

As the man kept talking, Jess was broken out of her frightened trance when she felt a hand on her knee. It was Damian, and though he wasn't looking at her, he appeared to be speaking quietly beneath his breath.

"When he orders everyone to move," he was saying, "stand up, take my hand, and follow me."

She opened her mouth to protest or ask if he was insane, but he shook his head, eyes still trained on the man.

Despite how soft his voice had been, she could detect the gravity and urgency in it. So she only nodded and turned back to where the men were shifting around into their positions. The blood was pounding in her ears, and anxiety was eating away at her nerves. Did Damian really think they were going to get away safely and without anyone getting hurt?

"Alright, people, let's do this! Come on now, don't make this painful," the masked man was suddenly ordering, prompting the guests to shuffle about.

Jess stood along with Damian, watching the armed men direct the scared men and women across the room. Her hand found his easily, and she felt him tugging her towards him. Bodies swarmed around them, women whimpering in fear and men protesting at the rough handling by the robbers, as he pulled her along to the corner of the ballroom. Though they were following the flow of the crowd, Jess couldn't see exactly where Damian seemed to be headed besides the men lined up with bags. Every door was manned, so what was…?

Suddenly, a vase that had been sitting atop a tall table toppled over, shattering on the marble floor. Guests and masked men nearby looked over in alarm, including Jess — that was when she saw Selina and Alfred being shoved forward. Alarm shot through her, but before she could try and do or say anything, Damian's hand was roughly yanking at her until the two of them were slipping through a door out into a hallway.

"Damian, I saw Selina and Alfred—"

"There is nothing we can do," was all he said, not looking at her, as they hurried down the hall.

"But how are we—?"

"Jessica, we don't have time for questions. We need to figure out—"

He cut off just as they were about to round a corner; he stepped back against the wall abruptly and she followed suit. There were voices nearby, and Jess could only guess they weren't cops, security, guests, or anyone who wouldn't shoot them. Green eyes scanning their surroundings, Damian spotted a door and guided her towards it. Quickly, he entered and pulled her inside, closing the door right as the voices grew louder and passed by.

Breathing heavily in sudden darkness and the grimy smell of dust, Jess heard the crackle of a walkie-talkie and then a man speaking through static. "Three minutes, boys."

A clearer voice on the other side of the door responded, "Copy that."

The two of them remained in the dark for what felt like too long until it was silent. She heard Damian moving around for a few moments until light greeted her, making her blink rapidly. They were in what appeared to be a storage room or small janitorial closet; there were shelves stocked with boxes and cleaning supplies with a mop and bucket in the corner.

And no more than an arm's length separated them, making it easy for her to catch whiffs of his cologne. Jess found herself having trouble meeting his gaze, especially since their closeness was tugging at memories from earlier in their evening.

"What are we doing, Damian?" she managed to ask while ignoring the rush in her nerves. "We should be calling the police."

"Those men will be gone before GCPD is within two blocks."

He appeared to be thinking hard as he stared at her, his emerald greens stern and determined. And then Damian was taking a deep breath and saying, "You must stay here while I figure out how to get to my father and—"

"The hell I am," Jess retorted, earning a baffled look from him that quickly morphed into a glare. "Are you kidding me? I'm not sitting in this stuffy closet while you're running off and risking your neck."

Annoyance bit at her when he responded briskly, "Jessica, this closet is where you will be safest compared to that ballroom or out there where armed men are patrolling the hallways. I will come back for you."

"No, you won't because you're not leaving me."

They scowled at one another, neither one giving in for a long, long moment. His eyes were steeled and unwavering, and she could see the individual hairs of his furrowed brows. Did he really think she was going to be okay with sitting in this closet? No, not when he would be putting himself back in danger, not when she'd have no idea what was going on. Besides, if there was even a chance she might be able to do something to help…

Damian was the first to break their stare, glancing at his watch. He then let out a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them and shaking his head.

"What am I to do with you, Jessica?" he asked, then reached for the doorknob. Raising his brows and training his grevious gaze on her, he instructed, "Move quickly and quietly. Do not do anything unless I tell you to."

She was about to question his demanding behavior when she caught the look in his eyes — it was almost imploring, like he really didn't want to be doing this. Guilt and worry stirring in her stomach, Jess simply nodded, prompting him to open the door and take her hand once again.

"And you call me stubborn," he was muttering as they left the closet.

Together, they traveled down a few more hallways, silently, until someone stepped right into their path. The man was masked, just like the others, and tall, wielding a rifle in his large hands.

Fear immobilized her as she stood there, still gripping Damian's hand.

"Folks," the man said in a low voice, "I believe you're missing the show."

He nodded his head down the hall and gestured with the gun, indicating that they should move. To Jess's dismay, Damian complied and stepped in that direction, forcing her to do the same. But then he was releasing her hand and spinning around, and within seconds, the robber was laying on the floor, unconscious. The gun was in Damian's hands as he swiftly took it apart, dropping the magazine into a nearby potted plant.

"Unfortunately, I have seen better," he muttered dismissively to the knocked-out man as he extended his hand towards Jess.

Mouth open, she looked dumbfoundedly from the unmoving body to Damian who grabbed her when she didn't respond.

Those Muay Thai lessons sure were coming in handy nowadays.

Just as they were about to round another corner and head for the stairs, two figures burst through one of the doors and tumbled to the ground before them. It took a moment, watching as one of the men delivered a few heavy punches to the face of the other, effectively knocking him out.

"What are you doing here?" Damian demanded.

Red Hood pushed himself off the ground and adjusted his jacket. "Nice to see you, too," his robotic voice came through from beneath the helmet.

Damian looked back at Jess, who was splitting a look between him and his brother, then released her hand to walk up to him. His back was to her as Jason removed his helmet and they exchanged words too low for her to hear. She tried straining her ears, but all she could make out was what sounded like low growling from Damian and… well, Jason's face was growing serious.

And then his blue-green gaze flickered towards her, sending a chill over her skin.

She was considering stepping forward and asking what was going on when Damian turned around.

"Jessica," he began in an even voice, "I need you to stay with him."

"What about you?"

Impatience was clear in his bright, green eyes. "I need to find my father, Selina, and Alfred. I'll be fine."

Jess frowned as she protested, "You can't go back there—"

"Do not worry about me." His voice was firm as he gently took her bare shoulders, almost as firm as the urgency in his gaze.

Turning to Jason, who was still holding his helmet, she asked, "You're going to let him go back into that chaos?"

The older man shook his head. "He doesn't listen to me anymore than he listens to you. Besides, he's right. He can't leave them behind. There's a back way out of here — those goons should still be busy in the ballroom."

The idea of Damian going off by himself and back to the very place men were wielding guns and terrorizing citizens… Despite how easily he'd been able to disarm that man, it didn't mean she was on board with him not escaping with her. Her heart was beating painfully in her chest, blood pounding in her ears. He seemed to notice her momentary panic, stepping forward to get her to meet his gaze. His hands found their way to both sides of her neck, thumbs on her cheeks, shortening the breaths she was trying to take.

"I need to know you are safe while I find my family. I cannot be worrying about you," Damian told her, his voice low as he searched her eyes for an agreement. "Go with him."

But how? What is even your plan? What makes you think you can even do anything? What if something happens to you?

Green eyes flickered over to meet his brother's, prompting Jason to nod once. Taking a deep breath that barely eased her nerves, Jess gave in and shook her head.

"Fine. Just… be careful, okay?" she tried to demand in a voice that betrayed her desire to sound strong. "I'd better see you soon or I'll—"

Suddenly, his lips were on the top of her cheekbone, right above the wound from her hockey game that was nearly healed, for a moment… just a moment. She glanced up, speechless, barely catching that look in his eyes before he turned and walked off hurriedly. Her skin smoldered at the contact, and she stared on even after he'd disappeared in a soft cloud of his cologne.

A hand on her shoulder had her spinning around to see Jason regarding her with an impatient stare. "We need to go," was all he said before donning the helmet.


"So, you'd better see him soon or what?"

Gotham's wintry, night air hit them as he pushed the door open. His senses were on high alert as he scanned the area, hoping their escape would be easy.

"I don't know. He'll wish he locked me in a closet while he went off to play hero?"

"And you think that's what he's doing? Playing hero?"

It was an interesting choice of words, to say the least, especially considering that she wasn't entirely wrong.

He gestured for her to follow him down the side of the building as he retrieved a handgun from within his jacket. This part of the property seemed deserted and quiet except for the faint sounds of police sirens and traffic in the distance. Their footsteps made soft, crunching noises in the snow on the ground.

"I have no idea what he's doing," she admitted.

Behind him, her voice was trembling, and a quick glance back showed him that she was shivering with her bare arms wrapped around herself. "But he said he's going to look for the others, so…"

He was shrugging off his jacket then and handing it to her, revealing the bulky, dark gear he wore underneath. Her hazel-colored gaze took in the faded symbol on his chest as she donned the jacket that was too big for her.

"Is that what I think it is?" Jess asked, pointing to it.

"Depends on what you think it is," he answered while turning to lead again.

"Do you always talk in circles?"

"Do you always talk when you should be quiet in case one of those goons shows up?"

She rolled her eyes as she trekked along behind him. "You're talking too, you dimwit."

He scoffed, looking over his shoulder at her. "'Dimwit,' huh? Think you're hanging around him a little too much."

The teen didn't answer, which was fine anyway because they were coming up on an unmarked van idling on the path between them and his motorcycle about a hundred feet away. There were no other side doors that would offer an alternate route, and going back to the one they'd left wasn't an option.

After a few moments of deliberation, Red Hood guided her to a spot behind a tall stack of wooden pallets.

"Wait for me," he instructed in a low voice, eyes trained on the van in case he could spot any movement. "I'll call for you."

He didn't wait to see if she had questions or would protest — he would've ignored her anyway.

As quietly and quickly as possible, he approached the idling vehicle, noting the license plate and anything else that might serve useful later. But detail analysis was reshelved into the back of his brain as soon as he encountered two men in the front seat, allowing his instincts to kick in instead (literally). They were on the ground, folded over in pain before either of them could snatch the walkie-talkie sitting between them.

"Let's go," he called towards the wooden pallets.

Jess reappeared, teetering a little too slowly in her heels for Hood's patience. His mouth opened beneath the helmet to chide her for it when her eyes widened at something beside him.

One of the men was attempting to get up on his hands and knees, but he hardly got the chance. The open van door met his lowered head with a satisfying, heavy thud, sending him in a slump to the cold ground.

Hand on the door, Hood glanced over to see the teen heading towards him while clinging to his jacket. Wordlessly, they made their way down the side of the building again.

"Aren't you going to tie them up or something?"

He had to suppress a snort.

"Nah," he responded. He could see his motorcycle parked just at the end of a row of cars up ahead near the front of the property. "My job is to get you out of here. Someone else will take care of them."

"Someone else?" she echoed, trying to keep up with him in his strides.

Jesus, how many questions is this girl going to ask?

As if on cue, glass was shattering somewhere above them and accompanied by a yell. A dark shadow fell with a crunching thud on a vehicle parked nearby, setting the alarm off. Hood threw his arm back instinctively to keep Jess behind him as the two of them watched the masked man slowly roll off the car and attempt to limp away.

He didn't have to look up to know there was a bigger shadow yet to fall.

The man barely made it several steps before Batman landed on the pavement behind him, landing a sequence of blows that put him out cold on the ground.

Red Hood almost laughed. "There's your answer."

Jess didn't look at him, her widened gaze focused beyond his shoulder and on the dark figure turning towards them. She looked like any other Gothamite that froze in awe at his presence — one would think that by now, people were used to the hero's appearances, but no. Two decades of him protecting the city and they still stopped and stared.

That wasn't to say Red Hood didn't get his share of gawking expressions. He got them for sure — he just wasn't the top tier, A-list celebrity that Batman was, and he'd almost go as far as putting the Robin name up there, too. Nope, Red Hood was B-list at best… but in Gotham's criminal underworld, maybe his status was a different story based on different methods, different intentions.

Batman paused, like he was assessing them, and then asked, "Are you alright?"

The following silence prompted Hood to glance down at Jess and nudge her, and that was when she blinked, realizing the question was directed at her. (She must've thought her escort would answer for her or that Batman would even ask Hood something like that — how innocent. And naive.)

"Oh… yeah. I'm f-fine."

He nodded once and then was gone in a black blur. Hood wasted no time ushering Jess along towards the parking lot, keeping his eyes peeled and ears open for anyone else who wanted to disrupt their escape. The fiasco behind them was in capable hands, and he had absolutely no intentions of waiting around for someone else to make trouble for them.

When they finally made it to the bike, Jess was turning to him. "Are you sure you don't want to help him? I could just wait out here, hide in those bushes or something. I can find Damian and the others when all those guys are taken care of."

Even the heavy sigh still came through his helmet's voice modulation. Her eyes narrowed in confusion as he began counting on his gloved fingers.

"First of all, the guy's not alone; our dear friend Robin is probably beating one of those guys to a pulp as we speak. Second, Damian would kick my ass if I didn't do exactly what he expects me to do, which is keeping you in one piece."

If only she knew how literal he was being.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Hood plopped the motorcycle helmet in her hands. "And third... 'hide in the bushes'? Really?"

Despite the fact that she couldn't see his face, he knew she could probably imagine the expression that matched his tone. Were these the kinds of decisions she'd made when running with that gang? It was a wonder she'd survived as long as she did even before joining up with them.

'Hiding in bushes.'

Sudden, rapid gunfire had him pulling her down behind the nearest car, flinching at the bullets ricocheting. Dammit. They had been so close. He dared a peek over the car hood to quickly count three men approaching, each wielding enough firepower to make him just a little bit nervous... only because Jess was with him and he had to keep her alive.

"You really had to wait until we almost got out of here, huh?"

The teen crouched beside him was regarding him with a bewildered gaze, like she was appalled that he was talking to the men that had just shot at them.

"Just come on out, man," one of them called, making a point by cocking his gun. "Nobody has to get hurt."

Taking even breaths, Hood took in their surroundings and the distance between them and the hotel's doors. As quickly and quietly as possible, he retrieved his own two handguns and checked them while responding in a loud voice.

"I'm just trying to get her out of here while you guys do your business, which I have no intention of interrupting, so, you know, would be nice if you let me do the same."

The empty air that reigned allowed him a moment to turn to Jess, whose wide, hazel eyes were trained on him in confusion and anxiety.

He said in a low voice, "I'm gonna cover you while you run inside and hide, alright?"

"No can do, buddy! Everyone's gotta hand over their fancy goods."

"But—" Jess began.

The guy kept rambling on, though Red Hood couldn't care less as he continued in a frantic whisper to her.

"No fucking 'buts', Jess, and definitely no more questions. Just do it. You run like hell, and you hide like your life depends on it 'cause it does. I'll find you when I'm done."

"This can go the easy way or the hard way!"

Shit, this guy was annoyingly persistent.

Hood sighed and called, "I dunno if you noticed, but the dynamic duo is in there, rounding up your friends while you sit here and argue with me."

"We don't fuckin' care," another one of them shouted. "Hard way or easy way?"

He wished they could see him rolling his eyes beneath the helmet.

"I kinda like the sound of the hard way," Hood returned as he readjusted his crouched position, poised for the incoming fight with the guns in his gloved hands.

He turned back to Jess and lowered his voice once again. "The second I engage them, that's when you book it."

She only nodded and pulled his jacket tighter around herself, much to his relief.

"Fine. Hard way it is!"

"Good, that's just what I wanted to hear!" he quipped a second before pointing both barrels above the car hood and opening fire.


Her chest was tight and painful by the time she made it through the doors and against the wall. If that wasn't enough, her feet were complaining about the marathon run, and she briefly contemplated removing the heels.

Part of her wanted to go back out and help him, but what could she possibly do? She was probably too far away to make any useful link to one of those guys; if there was anything she knew well about her own powers, it was that distance was a factor for sure. The person in question — or "target" if that was a more appropriate term — pretty much had to be in the same room. They would spot her before she could even reach far enough to feel one of their bodily systems, throwing off whatever plan Hood had for taking care of them and meeting back up with her.

After a few moments of deep breaths and reciting street names in her head, just like her therapist had suggested, Jess made her way back to the main ballroom. She passed several frightened guests hurrying along, heart jumping into her throat each time because she hoped one of them was Damian or the others. There were bursts of gunfire throughout the hotel, and she could only hope it meant Batman and Robin were apprehending the robbers and not something much worse.

The ballroom was empty. Not a soul lurked among the scattered silverware and cloth napkins or the drinks left behind in panic. Her footsteps were quiet on the polished floor as she navigated the eerie mess behind the bar, eyes scanning her environment for the chance a familiar face would wander into the area.

That was when Jess spotted movement in the corner of her eye: a black-clad figure carrying a submachine gun entered from one of the room's side doors, and her entire body broke out in a cold sweat.

Oh, shit.

The teen was frozen in alarm while her brain drew a blank on what to do. He was sweeping his surroundings... a few more seconds and his field of view would include the bar at the end of his survey.

Her muscles were just about to leap into flight the moment his masked face and the barrel of the gun rotated in her direction — but then her entire body was hitting the floor from a sudden, painful impact. Sharp aches in her head and shoulder almost drowned out the flooding shock as she glanced up, scrambling to find the source of feeling like she'd been hit by a train. A dark green mask with white pupils hovered inches above her face, and the hero's body was practically on top of her.

An angered protest was at her lips, but the words didn't make it out; his gloved hand roughly and quickly covered her mouth just as a harsh voice barked from across the ballroom.

"Who's there?"

Robin's hooded figure remained strangely still and calm over her, and Jess could do nothing but lie there quietly and attempt to breathe through his grip. Her heart pounded within her chest as they lay in jarring silence; she couldn't tell if the adrenaline coursing through her was from his abrupt (and hurtful) takedown, their weird closeness, or the possibility of being discovered. Maybe it was all of the above.

"I heard you. There's no sense in hiding."

The following gunfire was deafening. Bottles and glasses shattered like hazardous rain around them, forcing Jess to bring her arms up in defense. It must have lasted seconds, however long it took for the man to run through the magazine — then the heavy silence afterwards was punctuated by the soft tinkling of glass that continued to fall from the shelves and bar counter. Jess finally opened her eyes, realizing with a start that Robin had shielded her from the violent barrage, his cape creating a sort of makeshift tent around her head and upper body.

The audible, clicking sounds of the man reloading were interrupted by a few thuds and a pained grunt.

Now it was quiet, too quiet.

There was nothing but the galloping of her heart and their labored breaths. Robin was lifting his head to look at her, shards of glass raining from his hood to the floor beneath them.

Despite the white pupils of his mask, she could feel his gaze — the several inches that separated them felt strangely... alive. Before Jess had a moment to comprehend it, her eyes straying to his nose and then down to his mouth, a voice spoke up.

"Well, don't you two look cozy on a… uh, floor covered in broken glass and spilled booze. Damn, all this good stuff gone to waste."

The two of them glanced up. Well, for Jess it was more like tilting her head back to see an upside-down Red Hood leaning casually against the end of the bar counter. Her cheeks warmed at his remark; she almost missed the mild glare that the masked hero still hovering above her gave. Robin moved to stand, his feet making crunches on the glittering floor, and lowered a gloved hand to her.

"Where have you been?" he questioned as she steadied herself on her heels and released his grip. Without waiting for an answer, he turned his attention to her and asked, "Are you alright?"

His hand that she'd been holding seemed to gravitate to her for just a second, as if he wanted to steady her, until it fell to his side. Jess could only nod, avoiding making eye-to-mask contact.

"What, she didn't tell you? I stopped by a hot dog cart just down the street. Couldn't resist the smell of that mustard and sauerkraut, y'know?"

"Does it pain you to be serious for one second?"

"Hey, when it comes to food, I'm nothing but serious—"

"This is exactly the kind of behavior that puts lives at risk in the field—"

"Does it pain you to lighten up for once—?"

"There is nothing about the situation at hand that calls for 'lightening up'—"

"Oh my god, would you two just shut up already?"

The two masks turned in comical unison to see Jess scowling as she readjusted the strap of her heel. Her annoyed glare bounced between them as she added, "I swear you two argue like…"

Robin shifted uncomfortably in his stance, making her raise her brows.

"... a married couple," the teen finished.

An uneasy silence passed for several moments — These two are weird, Jess mused — before Red Hood spoke up again, seriousness replacing the previous humor in his tone. "GCPD is about a minute out. Batman's already rounded up the crew and guests are evacuating, so you should probably do cleanup."

"Will you actually keep an eye on her if I leave?"

Robin didn't bother hiding the aggression in his own voice. Hood heaved an audible sigh as Jess stepped forward to get the younger hero's attention.

"Actually, it's not his fault I was here. He told me to hide, and... well, I didn't," she admitted.

Hood gestured towards her in an exaggerated show of "See?" though Robin hardly paid him attention. She could've sworn he was rolling his eyes at her beneath that mask.

"What were you doing in here anyway?"

"I was looking for Damian and the others."

"They're safe. You should go," he was saying then, moving to pass her with more crunching glass.

It seemed Hood didn't need to be told twice; he was already walking the opposite direction, probably expecting Jess to follow. With a quick glance back at Robin's retreating back, she left the bar and attempted to catch up to the tall man whose strides were too long for her. The jacket she handed back to him was a little sticky from the beverages shattered and spilled at the bar, but so were her legs and, ugh, her hair.

They made their way down the hall in silence for a minute until he spoke up from just a few steps ahead of her.

"You don't listen very well, do you?"

Jess shook her head. "Probably should've warned you about that. It's one of my most redeeming qualities."

He let out a sharp laugh from beneath the helmet, and she couldn't help smiling a little.


Apprehending the group had been wrinkle- and problem-free. There had been no casualties, only sustained injuries for the men on the receiving ends of Batman and Robin's fists, and GCPD soon took control of the situation upon arrival. The night ended with every gala guest safe, albeit shaken up, including Jess.

He had always anticipated something like this would eventually happen. Damian and Robin had managed to remain in separate places, never in the same scene at the same time, during his time knowing her… until tonight. Despite his efforts to ensure that she was safe while he could do his part under the mask, having to swap between his identities with her in the same vicinity was a risk in itself, one that had discomfort and unease settling in the pit of his stomach the moment those men had invaded the ballroom. It was a mild relief, yes, reading her body language and eyes to find only leftover fear and anxiety as opposed to suspicion and uncertainty — but this fiasco was a reminder, nonetheless, of many things he wished he could ignore, including the reality that he could not keep his second life from her for too long.

Yet he was still going to hide one hand behind his back for as long as possible.

"Is there a reason why you wanted me to stay with Jason?"

The two of them were in the manor kitchen, sitting side-by-side and finding warmth and comfort in fridge leftovers to soothe the night's troubles. They'd both changed out of their fanciful clothing, Damian in a thermal, long-sleeved shirt and sweats and Jess sporting leggings and one of his old hoodies. Her hair was damp from the shower she'd taken; he could smell the hair products and the lavender oil on her wrists.

He hadn't needed to suggest she spend the night — she knew he would never refuse — although Bruce had. His father had checked in with them both, wanting to make sure Jess was alright and let her know that she was more than welcome to stay after the disconcerting event.

"You know why. I knew he would keep you safe," he said, attempting to sound resolute.

Her eyes shifted under his challenging stare. "But does that mean you trust him again?"

That was when Damian glanced away, down at the noodles he spun around his fork. "That's debatable."

"But I'm alive… and unhurt. I'd say that means something—"

"Why does it concern you?" he asked, emerald greens examining her. "I expected him to protect you. That doesn't merit my unconditional trust."

She barely blinked at his sudden defensiveness.

"I just... wonder what it'll take for you to open back up to him, Dami."

He was about to speak, but she went on, "I can see that you're still having a hard time letting him back into your life. Even when we ran into him, it seemed like you weren't completely sure about splitting up.

"But maybe because he was able to succeed this time around... you'll find it easier to forgive him and trust him again."

Damian was quiet for several moments before saying, "Tell me again why you are so concerned about it."

"Because I'm worried about how this is affecting you," Jess was quick to answer without hesitation. Her voice was somewhat pleading as she added, "I… I don't like seeing you struggle with this."

He longed to tuck the loose strands of hair behind her ear. Instead, the former assassin focused on keeping his voice gentle as he told her, "You do not need to worry about me, Jessica."

She opened her mouth to protest just as Jason entered the kitchen, stopping in his tracks once he laid eyes upon them. No longer dressed in his gear and sporting a casual sweater, the older man cleared his throat before announcing that he was only looking to get a glass of water.

Feeling Jess's gaze on him, Damian took a deep breath and said, "Will you give us a moment?"

The surprise was clear in her eyes, but she made no effort to protest. As soon as she disappeared (and he checked the hallway to ensure she wasn't loitering around to eavesdrop), he turned towards his older brother. Slight awkwardness tensed Jason's figure as he leaned against the counter, avoiding eye contact.

"Thank you."

Blue-green eyes snapped up to meet his own. "What for?"

"Doing what I asked of you… for keeping her safe."

Jason Todd was not the kind of man who said "You're welcome," at least not in a serious manner, so Damian was not expecting him to say the phrase.

"This time around, I didn't do it for her."

He hadn't expected this response either.

The twenty-year-old was scrambling to decipher this as the older man headed for the doorway, his glass of water in hand. Pausing for a moment, he turned back with eyes that were void of mischief and filled instead with uncharacteristic sincerity.

Even sadness, perhaps.

Jason wanted to say more, Damian could tell. But hesitation swept over his figure and took away the words at his half-open mouth, forcing him to turn back around and leave his younger brother alone at the kitchen island.

"It's not for me. It's for her."

"Oh. Is that what she said?"

So he had carried out the former assassin's plan against Kade despite his reservations… for Jess, as Damian had insisted. Damian had never taken the time to wonder why the older man had complied; all he'd cared about was that he had gotten what he wanted, what he needed. A small part of him might have believed his brother owed him after what he'd done — or rather, failed to do.

Yet tonight, Jason's intentions had apparently been a different story.

"This time around, I didn't do it for her."

"I did it for you," he might as well have said.

And the result would have been the same, the words acting as a bittersweet knife cutting through years of tension and hatred, driving into a thick layer of walls that he'd always hid behind. Damian could feel it cracking, weakening already… and he did not know if he wanted to repair the damage or allow it all to crumble.


"He's kinda bossy, isn't he?"

"Who?"

"Robin."

"Oh, 'bossy' is one word for it."

"... Do you think I'll ever get to meet him? For real, I mean."

"We still talking about Robin here?" he asked warily, eyeing her.

She shrugged, and he felt his chest tighten with discomfort.

"You know how you found out both my identities pretty much within twenty-four hours of our first meeting? He's the opposite, so I wouldn't worry about it."

The teen was oddly quiet for a little while as she stood in the foyer with him, which did nothing to calm his nervousness at her curiosity. He'd been on his way out after discussing their hectic night with Bruce and Damian in the cave; if he'd known he would run into and be intercepted by Jess, he might've just left via the cave entrance instead.

With a sigh, she responded, "Wishful thinking, I guess. It's just that at this point, I feel like I know him in a really weird, still-haven't-seen-him-without-a-mask way. I thought that maybe if we keep running into each other, he'll eventually trust me enough. You know?"

"... Yeah. I do know."

"Is there anything at all you can tell me?"

Her wide, hazel eyes almost made him want to look away. She had the kind of gaze that made him feel like she could see through him, maybe even get a glance past his defenses. Even if those eyes weren't as big as they were, it was something about their intensity. Did she manage to make the demon brat, a guy who'd mastered mental walls and emotional control, feel this way, too?

"Sorry, doll. His secrets are his to tell."

The corner of her mouth lifted in a soft smile. "Figured as much. I always wanted to know why he wastes his time looking after me."

"Well, I guess it's safe to say he cares about you."

Just as much as your best friend does.

"Yeah, but why?"

"Remember what I said before about you asking so many questions?"

The glare she tossed him might've been fake, but now that he was getting to know her, it was also possible it was real.

Jason sighed. "Damian was right. You do ask a lot of them, and that curiosity could get you killed. You know what they say about that cat."

"It hasn't yet."

The sly, joking grin that fell across her face had him scoffing a little and shaking his head. He had to admit: this witty side of her was entertaining and definitely a breath of fresh air compared to her emotionless statue of a best friend. Would this be considered one of those "opposites attract" scenarios? Is that why she and Damian got along so well and were such good friends?

The hug was so sudden that he was at a loss for words. Her arms were small and gentle around him, but the man could barely decipher the gesture by the time she was stepping away with a shy expression.

What the…?

He was in the middle of deciding between a question and a sarcastic remark when Jess said quietly, "That's for protecting me tonight, and… I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I, erm, feel like you needed it."

And then she was gone, leaving him in an air of something that smelled as sweet as the words she'd left him with.


"How much do they know about her?"

"Well, these guys in particular didn't seem to know much. All they said was that word on Gotham's streets is there's a 'girl with magic hands' who can heal you or make your heart stop. No description, no context, but I assume there's someone who opened their big mouth out there. I just have to dig and trace the info back."

"You will take care of it?"

There was a scoff, then, "It sounds like you expect me to."

"Consider this disruption a blessing in disguise. Think about the ways in which you can use it to your advantage. Pursuing this matter should aid you in rebuilding—"

"Yeah, I got it. But it's not gonna be that easy. If and when the kid finds out that the city's fucking underworld put a target on her back, he'll raise hell. I'd bet money I don't have that he tears Gotham apart to snuff out anyone who even thinks about touching—"

"There is no need for you to explain to me how he will react. He is as predictable as he is stubborn."

"Then you know this is gonna take a lot more effort and time."

"Do you have somewhere else to be?"

Silence.

"Then take care of it."

The line went dead.


Note: ok truthfully i spent SO LONG on this chapter and put in a ton of brain power, my mind is a little fried. We're starting a new arc, so it really could've gone many different ways from here, but ultimately , this is what i settled on… so i hope you enjoyed it and i'd love to hear what you all think!

A couple things:

- to the lovely reader who said this fic is the only thing keeping them alive… same here. this is my only escape besides video games and Netflix, and everyone's support truly helps me to continue 'cause otherwise i'd probably just lose the motivation lol

- I discovered the website called Artbreeder, and now we have a new cover after i spent an inexplicable amount of time creating all those faces xD

- We're pretty much done with the Kade arc, much to everyone's relief i think haha. No more kicking his ass unless something happens later down the road, but who knows? not me...

- yes, the long-awaited first kiss is somewhere on the horizon hehe. but as i'm sure you've gathered, i'm not letting it go down without warming up a little! Especially between Jess and Damian if ya know what i mean...

more dramatic stuff coming over the next couple updates (yeah, i keep saying that). i really am convinced some of you can see into my brain or are reading my notes because you keep mentioning stuff i have planned but cannot reveal o.O *cough cough*

thank you all for the love! Timmy is around the corner. i just have to go fetch him :)

p.s. I never mean for author notes to be so long every chapter so i hope you guys don't mind it lol