Note: i know said last update that it was a long one, but, um, this one is even longer… 'cause there's a surprise at the end :)
Chapter 43: Unexpected Highs and Lows
Rule number one that Red Hood told her was to never use personal names. She would call him by his alias, and he would call her "Six."
"Six?"
"I was gonna have you pick a number between one and ten, but since we've got six rules, that's what makes sense to me. And if we're being punny — I know you and your jokes — you're going to stay on my six, which brings me to rule number two."
The second rule was there would be no association between them and she had to maintain distance. Jess would remain hidden, especially each time Red Hood interacted with anyone, to avoid them being seen together and stay a little behind to let him take point. This was as much for her safety as it was for keeping to the idea that the street vigilante was working alone.
Rule three felt less like a rule and more of a demand, but Jess let the man add it because her compliance was essential to being part of this... investigation: she needed to do exactly what Red Hood said and when. He knew Gotham and its people way better than she did — more specifically, he understood the darkest, worst parts of the city — so if anything went awry, whatever he ordered could mean the difference between life and death… for both of them or someone else.
Rule number four: no cops. Even if he was bleeding out on the floor, Red Hood said, he didn't want her contacting GCPD. Not only was response time still a work in progress for the Narrows and its surrounding areas, but getting badges involved also often meant more trouble than necessary.
"Getting an ambulance to you bleeding out is more trouble than necessary?" Jess had echoed in disbelief.
"Yeah because we can't have them wheeling in Red Hood on a gurney, can we?" he'd responded. "Besides, I have backup that isn't guns and badges. More like… masks and capes."
Right.
"So you wouldn't consider me as some sort of backup or at least a bit of help?"
And that brought them to the fifth rule… Absolutely no meta-human powers. This one had her grinding her teeth if she was being honest. He insisted it was, again, for her safety, but most of all, they were going right into the lion's den and revealing her identity as the infamous "girl with the magic hands" would be a very horrible idea. Jess barely had the chance to try and defend the possibility he would need her help or someone else would to no avail. Under no circumstance should she use her powers, not for him, not for anyone.
"What's the sixth one?"
"What we're doing, whatever information we learn… we don't tell a single, fucking soul. The less people who know about what we're up to, the better."
"I thought you had a few contacts you were talking with?"
"These are experienced people I've run with and who know what they're doing. Can you name someone you'd be comfortable telling?"
Maybe there was one.
"I know what you're thinking, and the answer is 'hell no.' Batman and Robin are probably the last people who should know what's going on."
"Why? It's their city, too, and if something is going on in the underworld—"
His blue-green eyes seemed to flare with irritation, danger, she wasn't sure. "I said no. I'm here, and the underworld has my name on it. I'll be the one helping you on this. Got it?"
Red Hood's rules weren't particularly easy, but she supposed they could be worse. He could have said no and not let her take part at all, so Jess accepted his terms without any more protest. Besides, wasn't this just an indication that he was looking out for her and didn't want them to get into any trouble?
The unfortunate thing was that rules and boundaries can only help so much. Sometimes they get in the way and inhibit a person's ability to make a crucial decision or lead to the least desirable outcome in a dire situation. For Red Hood and "Six," a pairing that no one in Gotham could have foreseen, that reality quickly became apparent not even hours into their venture…
Because by the end of the night, they had broken almost every single rule.
"I have a question."
Red Hood looked over from where he sat at the edge of the four-story building, his legs dangling into open air. Jess was next to him, knees to her chest with her face turned up to the cold, blackened sky. Below them, a few cars lined the street that was far from quiet — the nightclub at the corner was rumbling with heavy music, drunk patrons hooting and hollering outside. The establishment's back exit was just a few long strides and a fire escape away, and the two of them were waiting for the clock to hit eleven-thirty.
It was kind of a miracle they'd been able to find a place to perch on that wasn't slick with snow and ice, but he was glad for it. Apparently, they both liked this kind of vantage point.
"Of course you do."
Jess's upturned gaze fell onto him, strands of hair fluttering from below her hood. "Did Irene know about you? I mean… did she know about you the way I do?"
"No. I mean, she knew me as 'Jason Bradford,' but I don't think she would've found out that I'm the same Jason that died or that I'm, you know…" He gestured to his masked face.
"Was he pretty happy with her?"
"You're not actually comparing yourself to a girl you've never met, are you?"
Jess didn't say anything, averting her gaze. A few women screeched in laughter below, slinging their arms around each other's shoulders as they entered the club.
"I think he was really glad he found someone who saw him for who he really is," Hood found himself saying. "She didn't judge him, she understood him — tried to, at least. I'm not sure how much he's told you, but he's had a rough time figuring himself out. I mean, we all have, right?"
"Why do I feel like there's a 'but' here?"
With a chuckle, he went on, "But I don't know if they would've worked out. They… They kind of came from different worlds."
"Romeo and Juliet?"
"Nah. More like… Peter Parker and MJ."
"Is Damian supposed to be Peter… or MJ?"
"Never mind."
There was no way he'd be able to explain it to her without completely giving the whole thing away. It still wasn't his secret to tell despite how much he wished his little brother would bite the bullet.
She seemed to hesitate before asking, "And you think I'm any closer to his world than she was? 'Cause from what I see, he comes from money. He's too smart for his own good, lives in a mansion with a great family, doesn't have to work or go to school, but now that he is, it's at Wayne Enterprise… If he wanted, he could go to an Ivy League college like Tim did."
"What, isn't your aunt loaded? And didn't you inherit a shit ton of your parents' stuff?"
Something solemn and heavy filled her eyes. "Only because they died. And then I ran away from home and became a juvenile delinquent. I'm not… I'm not as shiny as Damian is."
He had to bite back a scoff, seeing that she wasn't laughing like he wanted to. Jess was serious, but only because she didn't know why those words were completely inaccurate. She still didn't know.
Her boyfriend, his brother, was far from being so-called shiny.
Scooting backwards to plant his feet onto the roof, Red Hood shrugged. "So you believe, with everything you know about our history, that Damian Wayne is 'shiny'? That anyone in this goddamn family is?"
The brashness came off more intense than he'd meant, and he saw it in the way she swallowed and looked away. Part of him considered apologizing when the teen suddenly added,
"At least you have a family."
His chest panged with discomfort, but he was quick to shut it down.
"Time?" he then asked.
"Eleven-twenty-eight."
Getting to his feet, they made their way across the roof and down the fire escape. As he'd predicted, the blonde club owner was stepping outside from the back of the club, a cigarette pack and lighter in her hands. Beyond her and the two dumpsters nearby, the door to her office was propped open with a large rock.
"You ready?" Hood asked as the two of them squatted halfway down the fire escape, watching the woman.
Jess nodded silently, though he couldn't quite read her face. He wasn't sure if he'd be more concerned if she wasn't nervous at all.
"And you remember exactly what I told you?"
"Slip in, find the safe, nine-eight-four-six-six-four, grab the ledger, then slip out."
Beneath his helmet, Jason was smirking. If there was anything he was learning about her so far, it was that Jessica Fairchild was definitely useful to anyone who could give her what she wanted in return.
Or make her think so.
It'd been a while since she'd done this much sneaking around.
In fact, April would mark a whole year since the library incident and the beginning of her second life… Yet here she was, breaking and entering the back office of a night club in Gotham's Narrows while Red Hood distracted the owner outside with whom he "went way back."
Jess hadn't exactly known what he meant until she saw the way the woman looked him up and down when he approached. Cue retching noises.
That being said, it didn't take a whole lot to get her attention so that she could sneak into the door propped open. Hood had begun bantering with the woman, coyly responding to her complaints about not having seen him in a long time.
The office in question was small but packed with so much junk. Boxes and files littered the lone desk in the corner as well as the floor, and what appeared to be schedules lined the walls. A calendar was pinned open to last August with nothing written on it. The stench of cigarettes and cheap perfume hung in the air, making Jess wrinkle her nose as she scanned the dimly-lit space for the small, black safe Jason had mentioned. Electro-pop music blared from the other end of the office where another door was shut.
It really was as easy as he'd said it would be. She'd found the safe beneath the desk, punched in the code with her gloved fingers (he hadn't needed to tell her not to use her bare hands), snatched the small notebook, and stepped right back out into the open where Hood was reaching to tuck the woman's hair behind her ear. With a knowing look in his direction, Jess rounded the corner and crossed the empty street, the ledger shoved into her jacket.
"You're a natural, aren't you?" he drawled, flipping through it as they sat on another rooftop nearby.
"Believe it or not, that was actually a lot easier than other places I've broken into."
"Oh, I believe it."
Leaning over to peer at the ledger, Jess asked, "So? See anything?"
Apparently, the club owner kept her more private and secretive business transactions on paper rather than any actual computer program or tool. Earlier, Jason had said he suspected her of doing some shady business — "Everyone in the Narrows is shady," he'd made clear — with some underworld newcomers. It was likely they were connected to whomever was asking around about Jess… But if they really hit the jackpot, the newcomers were the ones interested in her.
"Nothing immediately, but I'll have to cross-reference everything with what I have back at home," Hood said, closing the ledger with a light thud. He turned towards her and said, "Since that went a lot quicker and easier than I thought, why don't we pay a visit to a contact I have a few miles away?"
Jess couldn't help the mild surprise that had her brows shooting up. "Really? You already trust me that much?"
He was quick to shake his head and hold up a gloved hand. "Trusting you and you proving your capabilities are two different things. Where we're going is one of the rougher parts of the Narrows, the roughest part of Gotham."
"So that means extra best behavior like you just did in there, alright, Six?" Hood added while moving to get to his feet.
"Do you have to call me that when no one is around?"
"Not really. Just wanted to see how you'd react… Come on. The guy I want to see is probably making his rounds in the camps right now."
It wasn't supposed to happen this way.
Truthfully, she couldn't explain how they'd gotten here. Everything had occurred so quickly, so suddenly that it didn't make sense how in one moment, they'd been passing the homeless camps in search of his contact, and the next, Red Hood was engaged in a full-on fight with four dark figures. They'd appeared out of thin air, wielding swords and surrounding him in the small parking lot the two of them had been walking through.
Her eyes couldn't keep track no matter how hard she tried to pay attention. The short time with him during the night of the gala hadn't offered much room to see his skills, but this was different. He bounced effortlessly off building walls and around the unknown assailants with the grace but also power of a lion, agile and swift like they were in attempting to attack him. Why did it seem like Red Hood was used to dodging sharp blades and flipping over silent ninjas as if he'd done it countless times before?
Although, watching his mesmerizing finesse did little to reassure Jess that he would win. Two of them were down already, but the other pair was chasing him through the alleyway now. After a moment's hesitation, she followed after them, too, because none of his rules had said she couldn't. Frankly, he'd told her to always stay close, hadn't he?
"Hold your position," she heard through the earpiece he'd made her wear.
But Jess didn't.
The blood was pounding rapidly in her ears as she chased the shadows through a heavy metal door into what looked like an abandoned factory. She could only hear her own breathing while venturing further inside, trying to navigate as quietly as possible through the dark space. Something that smelled sharp in the air pierced her nose. Her eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness by the time she made it into some kind of large boiler room with dead contraptions and machinery. Something in the corner of her eye had her freezing in place — it looked like Hood's jacket. Still, there was most definitely the possibility that it wasn't him.
Sounds of metal slicing metal and then an alarming gunshot grabbed Jess's attention. They were coming from the other end of the room.
He was standing over one of the dark-clothed assailants on the floor, gun in his hand. Jess was soon wondering if he'd used the rubber bullets he'd mentioned he carried on himself or if this was a situation that called for the real thing. Hood's breathing was audible through his helmet as he knelt down to the stranger, and then she heard,
"What's your status, Six?"
The second she opened her mouth and stepped in his direction, she caught the moving shape. Her warning went unspoken as the figure leapt towards Red Hood, who glanced up at the very last second.
Again, she watched the two of them exchange blows and flurries of movement too fast for her own eyes. And then it was to her horror that the assailant took one of his arms in both of theirs, making one harsh motion that was followed by a yell of pain. Hood managed to reorient his position before landing a foot in their chest and sending them flying backwards several yards. They hopped easily back onto their feet (without using their hands), and walked determinedly in his direction again, the sword twirling weightlessly at their side.
Jess didn't even think about it. She stepped out from where she'd been hiding against one of the machines, hand outstretched.
"Leave him alone," she heard herself warn, power surging through the hand that gripped their shoulder.
They staggered in place, having spun halfway in place while trying to turn and lay eyes upon her. Within moments, they were falling to their knees as every sliver of life and energy drained rapidly from their body. It wasn't until she noticed the blackness pulsing from her hand that Jess realized this person was on the brink of death — their life was hanging on by a simple, weakening thread about to snap.
It broke as soon as she released them.
She stared, shoulders heaving with shaky breaths and hand eventually lowering to her side. The assailant that had collapsed was unmoving, and the sword they'd held was by her feet. Nearby, Red Hood was grunting and attempting to sit up from where he'd slumped against the wall.
"Hey."
Jess didn't hear him. Her ears were ringing as she gaped through her blurring vision at the lifeless body. It felt like more air was escaping than she was breathing in. As she stood there, completely unaware of him trying to get her attention, she knew that she was still connected to the unknown assailant, but it hardly mattered anymore.
Because she felt nothing.
"Look at me… Hey. Look at me!"
Astonished, the teen severed the attachment and blinked down at her hand — the dark shadow was already fading. Before her, Hood was moving slowly as he approached her, prompting her to shake the fear from her mind and head towards him. She helped him sit back down, away from the still body yards away.
"I have no idea what you did," he panted, "but I'm really glad you did it."
"Not the first time I've heard that," she found herself mumbling while kneeling and trying to inspect his injuries. Her voice was strangely steady despite how she was feeling.
He swatted her hand away then reached to remove his helmet. "Don't worry about fixing me up. Nothing I haven't handled before."
"Yeah? Are these guys also nothing you haven't handled before?"
Blue-green eyes flashed at her. "Sometimes I get tripped up, alright? I'll admit that."
Taking a slow and steady breath, Jason brushed his sweaty hair from his forehead and lay his head back against the brick. "Bastard caught me off-guard getting behind me like that."
Jess heaved a sigh. "Just let me get your arm at least. It's broken."
She hovered a hand over the arm he cradled. Once their link was formed and that familiar, gleaming light shone from her fingers, she felt the wrongness almost instantly. His arm was most certainly broken, and the tissue and everything in his limb was complaining, scrambling to tend to the injury and fix it. Breathing as evenly as possible, Jess told everything to heal, for the bone to mend and the swelling to relax. The painful fracture in the bone was disappearing, allowing the organ to straighten out and become anew, and all the ugly bruising and damaged tissue was fading.
It took less than a minute, but she let out a breath once it was done, watching as he extended the arm that moved as if it was completely unscathed. Jason gave a whistle.
"Damn. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. It's like nothing happened to it."
"What? Did you want me to leave a little bit of swelling as a souvenir?"
His wonder-filled eyes fell on her, taking in how unsettled and distracted she looked. When he opened his mouth to speak, Jess gestured to the rest of his body.
"What else?"
Jason shook his head and moved to stand, ignoring the baffled look she gave him. "You don't need to do anything else."
He dusted himself off before stepping towards the body nearby. It wasn't until he'd inspected the sword and then felt for a pulse that he noticed Jess was still standing in the same place, staring at the dead assailant. She could feel him watching her, but it was proving difficult to look away. The blood was pounding in her ears as she heard him approach and speak.
"Is this the first time you've killed someone?"
At his words, she met his eyes and saw what could've been pity in them. "So… he is dead," Jess managed to say, her mouth suddenly dry.
"But you knew that once it happened, didn't you?"
She couldn't answer; her gaze went to the body again, prompting an ice cold wave over her at the reality that she'd just taken a life.
She'd just killed someone.
"Hey," Jason was saying as he stepped in front of her. "It was either him or me. You saved my life, alright? And on top of that, you saved me months of a broken arm."
"I didn't… I didn't even th-think about it," she admitted in a whisper, struggling to hold his gaze.
He gave a deep breath, bending down to look her in the eye. The look of determination was obvious on his handsome features, but it actually made him feel worse. "Listen to me: that's how it happens in these situations. You don't get time to think about how you're going to react or what their next move might be."
"But I could've—"
"You could've hesitated for a second longer, and I'd be the one that's dead," Jason deadpanned.
Swallowing hard, Jess tore her gaze from his and peeked over his shoulder at the body. Together and slowly, they made their way over. The man's face was partially covered by a mask that matched his hood and garments. She watched as he kneeled and pulled it off to reveal a middle-aged man with a nasty scar running from the top of his eye and down to his cheek. But that wasn't what had Jess's heart pounding — she hadn't realized until now that his eyes were still open.
"D-do you recognize him?" she managed to ask.
Jason shook his head as he proceeded to check the dead man's clothing. "Not even in my dreams."
"What do you think he wanted?"
"Not sure. But I can give you a million reasons why someone would come after me."
"Okay, so… what are you gonna do now?"
He straightened and pointed at her. "You aren't gonna do a damn thing. I'll take care of this and then take you back to your dorm."
Jess blinked at him. "But what if there are more of them to come after you—?"
"I appreciate the concern, but I won't be sleeping tonight. I'll figure it out soon enough." Slipping the mask back over the man's face, he looked up at her. "I've got this, Jess."
She couldn't hide the hesitation and didn't have the heart to provide attitude when Jason stood to give her another serious look.
"I know this is rough for you, but you can't let it keep you up at night," he was saying.
"'Can't let it keep me up…?'" Jess echoed, staring at him. "Jason, I just—" she lowered her voice, "—I just killed someone. I literally just took someone's life—"
"Stop."
Jason's eyes were alight with frustration as he stepped closer, practically towering over her in his height. "You did what you had to do. Got it? You saved my life, end of story."
But that didn't mean Jess couldn't shake the distinct way she'd just grasped the man's shoulder and drained everything from him… the way the life depleted from his system so quickly and abruptly. The emptiness, the nothingness on his end of the connection had been obvious even before his body had hit the ground.
They didn't get back to campus soon enough. Weighty exhaustion was sinking into her body, and suddenly she craved a hot shower and cold sheets.
He seemed to be watching her as she got off the motorcycle and removed the helmet. "Get some rest," he told her above the idling engine.
Jess barely nodded and made it a few steps before something occurred to her.
Turning around, she said, "Don't tell anyone… please."
Don't tell Damian.
He was quiet for a moment, and she almost wished she could see what his eyes looked like beneath the helmet.
"I won't. Don't worry."
Something on her face must have given away the fact that she didn't feel much more reassured.
"Jess," he urged in a low voice. "I said don't worry."
She took a deep breath and nodded once before making her way up to the front door, the dead man's lifeless gaze burned into her memory.
It was the first time she'd killed someone, but it wasn't the first time she'd felt a person die.
"So the rule follower finally reaches her breaking point."
Jess blinked and looked up, straight into a pair of curious, brown eyes.
"What do you mean?"
Elijah stretched out his arms to gesture at their surroundings, which was the very modern interior of a big house filled with laughing teenagers, dim lights, and chill, lo-fi music. His Friday night attire consisted of a hoodie and that backwards baseball cap he always wore — with the exception of school hours. There wasn't much about him that screamed "Gotham Academy brat."
"Well, you're here at my party, surrounded by drugs and alcohol and our fellow underage peers."
Shifting in the plastic chair and raising the half-empty beer bottle at him, she replied, "Yeah, well, I was never good at following some of these rules to begin with."
Elijah and Kira's first house party in their new Gotham home was a good distraction. All week, Jess's head had been filled with nothing but that night, the one that had drastically reduced her average sleep time, given her nightmares, and had her experiencing flashbacks in the middle of class throughout the day. She probably would have checked out the new kids' place regardless, but the fateful events in the Narrows had given her all the reason in the world to get her mind off everything. Less than an hour in this pretty house and she was already pretty buzzed, though a voice in her head said that wasn't enough.
And speaking of distractions, Damian was a good one. Rather, the level of intimacy they'd finally unlocked was a go-to getaway when those frightening images and feelings were starting to breach her defenses. It was only natural in the first place that they wanted to be in each other's pants almost all the time now, whenever possible, but what he didn't know was that she not only wanted it — she needed it.
If Damian's mouth wasn't on her neck and on her chest, she was reliving the moment her hand had touched the man's shoulder. If he wasn't groaning in her ear or teasing her with a hand down her underwear, Jason's insistent voice was echoing in her head. If Jess wasn't swimming in their little world of pure joy, Damian completely hypnotized by her… she was constantly reminded that the past she'd left behind was catching up to her and that someone out there was watching.
"There are some pot brownies if you—"
"I'm fine," Jess answered quickly with a smile. "Thanks though."
Maybe if he asked her in ten minutes, this sliver of self-restraint would be gone by then.
Hesitation touched Elijah's features before he returned the gesture. "Okay" was all he said, and then he excused himself to weave through a group of girls dancing nearby.
She was scanning the room for signs of Misty or Quinn when her phone vibrated in her hand.
Damian: You're not wearing your bracelet again or you've forgotten how to use it.
She definitely wasn't wearing it… again. Jess's wrists were bare but for good and honest reason. Damian must have been buzzing her with no response, and the thought made her feel bad.
Jess: i took a shower earlier and forgot to grab it before i left. Sorry :(
Only the second half of the response was true. She had forgotten to put it on after scrambling to get dressed for this stupid party, having woken up late from a nap because she'd passed out around four a.m. But of course lying about taking it off for a shower and heading out with her friends was a lot easier than telling him that forgetfulness had been a regular part of life lately.
Plus, she might have purposefully ditched the piece of jewelry the other night when she couldn't sleep and made a trek through the city.
It was a little odd, though. Damian was rarely ever the one to use the bracelet and buzz first — usually Jess had the mindset to bug him randomly in the day or even when they were in the same room, just to get him to look at her. The first time he'd asked about her not wearing it had been the day after her night out with Red Hood. Now, he was bringing it up again. Was something going on with him?
Damian: Am I still picking you up in an hour?
Jess bit her lip, knee bouncing as she stared at the text message. A moment later, the rest of the beer was gone from the bottle and slithering its way down her throat.
"What are you doing?"
Misty's dark stare didn't faze Jess as her fingers plucked another thick brownie from the plate in the kitchen. She grabbed for it, but the older teen was surprisingly quick to move it out of the way.
"What the hell, Jess. Where have you been? I've been trying to find you in this giant ass house," Heavily-lined eyes gave her a once over. "And how many of those have you had?"
"I don't know," Jess tried to say, though the words blended together a little more than she'd intended, just like her thoughts were. "And I don't care."
It must have kicked in after two brownies… maybe just the first one. She wasn't sure. Time didn't seem to exist now because somehow there was a sequence of events missing from when she'd wandered into the place to check out the intriguing batch of baked goods all the way to this very moment. The high was similar to the one stardust had given her in the past, but the sparkly drug had never made her feel like this, like she was… coasting on a cloud, one that was miles above their heads.
From between her lazy lids, Jess watched with fascination as a pair of teens approached to scour the beverage selection.
"Seriously. What's going on with you? You've been weird all week."
"I'm fiiiine, Misty," Jess began with a snort. "I just haven't been sleeping well, y'know? And I've been on my period and—"
"And having weird symptoms, yeah," Misty finished with a raised brow. "You've only said that like ten times before."
She grasped Jess's wrist and began pulling her out of the kitchen. "Don't make me call Damian."
Something like a giggle bubbled in her throat followed by a tingling rush of excitement. "Actually, please do." She tugged at the other girl's arm and continued, "Can you please call him? I haven't seen him since yesterday, and—"
"Oh my god, yes, I will."
"Thank you, I love you so much you know that? Not as much as, y'know, I love Dami… Well, I love you the same amount but like, in a different way? Because you're my best friend—"
"Wayne, come get your girlfriend. No, she's fine, she's just had one too many brownies… Yes, pot brownies… Well at least she's not puking up alcohol?"
"I don't remember inviting you."
Kira's glittered eyes looked him up and down as he entered through the unlocked front door, scanning his unfamiliar surroundings with the scrutiny of an operative evaluating points of entry and potential routes. The party appeared to be less lively than he'd expected: the lo-fi music was softer, allowing conversations to carry among the teenagers. The lack of strobing lights was filled instead with dim lighting and clouds of marijuana that had him nearly wrinkling his nose upon smelling it.
"I'm not here for your… gathering."
Damian caught the little grin she made as the teen answered, "I'm kidding. Jess and Misty are over there."
He followed her gaze to the corner of the room where Misty appeared to be dragging a giggling Jess in his direction. She was shaking her head while trying to prevent her friend from stumbling into the furniture or other partygoers. So this was what he was facing for the night.
With an entertainment expression, Kira walked off as the two teens approached.
Now that they were closer, Damian could see more clearly what Misty had meant by "Her happiness has surpassed 'adorable' and is now 'annoying'." Jess was grinning with the enthusiasm of a child given a million dollars in a toy store, and even in the strained lighting, he could tell the whites of her heavy-lidded eyes were reddened. If it was possible, her entire demeanor brightened further at the sight of him standing at the door; she beamed and threw her arms around his neck, muttering some unintelligible nonsense about being happy to see him.
"Like I said," Misty huffed, running a hand through her hair and then gesturing towards Jess, "I don't know how many she had, but she did tell me to turn down the music because she couldn't taste the water I gave her. That was after she sat and just stared at me wordlessly for a few minutes."
Arms still wrapped around Jess's waist (partially for fear she'd fall over), Damian rolled his eyes. "Thank you for calling. Why would she consume more than one without knowing—?"
"Do either of us really know why she does half the things she does?"
She had a point.
"Make sure she eats and stays hydrated. Oh, and she might be pretty tired tomorrow."
"She has a game tomorrow night."
"She'll be fine by then," Misty assured with a wave of her hand. "Anyway! Have fun."
Following a long ride where Jess stared out the window silently, she looked up at him from the passenger seat and stretched her arms out towards him. The wiggling of her fingers emphasized the childlike manner in which she very obviously wanted him to take her into his arms. (On another day, he would reprimand her for such behavior, but it'd been clear at that party that she couldn't be trusted on her feet.) Her grip was surprisingly tight as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, and Damian secured her buttocks in his hands before heading into the manor.
He only felt a slight inkling of embarrassment as Alfred drifted by in an air of silent confusion, his blue eyes saying it all. Not even Jess's sluggish hello could elicit a word from the Englishman.
"Are you hungry?" Damian asked after bringing her to his bed. He didn't get a chance to straighten up and move away — on her back, Jess didn't remove her arms and instead used them to tug him downwards.
"I'm hungry for you," she giggled and then kissed him.
"Are you hungry for food, Jessica?"
It wasn't particularly easy to ignore her hands that were already pushing his sweater up his chest. Steadying himself on the bed, Damian steeled his nerves and attempted to hold her gaze, but that in itself was a task as well. She was gazing at him with half a mind, biting her lip as if thinking critically… or not at all.
"Noo, I'm good," Jess mused as she cupped his face. "I'm just… really glad you're here. You make me happy, y'know that?"
Although her joy was drug-induced and almost unusual, he couldn't deny that it was… well, not quite endearing, yet it had him fighting his own smile. The random giggles at seemingly nothing at all made little to no sense; however, the fact that she was somehow enjoying herself was entertaining.
Playing along, Damian smoothed the flyaway strands over her head and responded, "I'm glad to hear that."
"Did you know," she enthused with widened, dilated eyes, "they say sex feels amazing when you're high? And showers?"
The snort and laughter that followed earned an eye-roll, though the amusing statement was enough to make the former assassin shake his head.
"Jessica—"
"Your hair feels really nice," she said softly, glassy eyes focused on where her fingers were combing through his hair. "Like… really, really nice."
An idea manifested in his head. Misty hadn't mentioned it, but he recalled reading somewhere that a shower could potentially reduce a high…
"Why don't you take a shower then?"
It wasn't long before she took Neo hostage, fascinated as well by the cat's fur and asking unnecessarily philosophical questions about felines and their existence. The furry companion was able to escape once Damian distracted her, pulling her towards the bathroom and pointing out the fact that the shower was already running. Things seemed to be going smoothly as she managed to undress and climb into the tub without his assistance… until he checked on her several minutes later and caught Jess washing her hair with his body wash. She merely giggled again and stared at the shampoo Damian dumped in her open hand, realizing what to do with it only when he instructed her.
Ten minutes turned into twenty-five, which told him that a shower must indeed feel incredible while high because her showers rarely exceeded fifteen minutes. Admittedly, there was something silly about guiding her along in drying herself off, applying lotion, and brushing her wet locks. For the most part, it was clear Jess could still function and operate alone albeit slowly and with random, snickering pauses. If it weren't for her giddy behavior, Damian would have lost his patience sooner.
In fact, how hadn't he yet? These past several days had proven taxing for his mind and emotional control, not only due to his mother's unexpected visit but also Jess's forgetfulness with wearing her bracelet. She'd attributed it to her menstrual cycle and therefore her recent exhaustion and moodiness, yet that did little to alleviate his rising concern… even suspicion.
Firstly, her menstrual cycle was consistent and timely. Unless something had changed in her body, Jess shouldn't have started it yet.
Secondly, she wore the bracelet more often than she did her rings and watch. Granted, a shower did mean all jewelry was removed, but the bracelet was the only thing she did wear to bed. If it was true that she was forgetting it...
Then why did Jess still remember to wear everything else?
Damian tore his gaze from the watch and rings sitting on the bathroom counter, resting it on Jess in the mirror as she yanked his gray t-shirt over her head. It was the only article of clothing she was wearing as she met his eyes and let out a short laugh. And then Jess was taking his hands and tugging him back into the bedroom.
That was when he spotted the corner of the plastic baggie sticking out of her crossbody bag sitting on his desk. Eyes narrowing, he reached for it—
And retrieved a few cookies, their appearance making Jess gasp.
"You should try one!"
Damian fixed her with a long, silent look though she was completely oblivious to it.
"Where did you get them?" he asked as if she would actually recall while in this state.
"I dunno. Have one. They look really good... Do we have ice cream?"
They must have come from Misty. The girl's sister was a baker, and this wasn't the first time Jess had been carrying around some sort of dessert that she'd made.
Better a bag of cookies than what he'd initially thought it was.
They were snickerdoodles. He had one while setting up a movie on his laptop for Jess to watch while curled up beneath the sheets. Perhaps she'd pass out soon, and then he could head out for patrol. It had to be even less likely now that she'd awaken.
Damian didn't notice it until the knock at his door later on. Climbing — no, floating — out of bed to open it, he blinked at Alfred.
"Master Damian, are you…?"
His eyes rested on Jess behind the former assassin, where she was staring with great interest at the screen, her face illuminated by the action film.
The older man lowered his voice, too low for Damian to understand let alone hear at all what he'd said.
"What?"
Puzzlement wrinkled Alfred's brows. He reached to take the young man out into the hall and close the bedroom door.
"Are you planning on spending the remainder of your night here?"
He blinked again. "... Yes?"
Why was the man looking at him like that?
Alfred tried again. "Are you aware that your father is waiting on you downstairs?"
Silence this time. Hazy, timeless silence.
"Oh, dear." The butler passed a hand over his face and then sighed, "Go on then."
Damian didn't catch whatever he mumbled to himself as he headed down the hall. Shrugging, he found his way back under the covers and beside Jess, who was eager to scoot closer and slide his hand up her shirt. Surely it was a combination of things, such as her lack of undergarments, his unprecedented yet relaxed daze, a relatively high sex drive, and other factors he couldn't think of at the moment, but he welcomed it all. He sank right into it. The soothing high simply melted his entire body, undoing the tension in his muscles and coating his brain in a peculiar calmness. What had he been worrying about again?
Even the sex was an experience that took place somewhere in the fabric of space-time. In hindsight, Damian wasn't sure what occurred first: his back finding the floor or bending her over his desk? He hardly knew what either of them was doing; there was no keeping track of their kisses and desperate hands or even what they might have said to one another, not when the pleasure itself was so much more potent and intense than he'd ever imagined. Everything they did was driven solely by sensual, physical need while their minds swam in fuzzy, light euphoria.
After an inexplicable amount of time, Jess was beneath him on the bed (again, unsure of how or when this happened), catching her breath and drawing mindless circles on his back.
She started giggling… And nothing could have stopped Damian from joining her.
He didn't have to be on high alert in places like the manor, so when he turned around after retrieving a glass from the kitchen, it felt like his entire skeletal system had jumped out of his body at the sight of her standing there.
"Jesus fuckin' Chr—" Jason hissed, pausing to close his eyes. "Hello to you, too."
Jess didn't return the greeting as he moved past her towards the fridge. That alone unnerved him because that meant she wasn't there for small talk.
"Your boyfriend's playing video games with Timmy in the main living room."
"I know."
Quirking a brow over the water he was downing, Jason took in the seriousness on her features. Her arms were crossed, and she was biting her lip like she was nervous.
"Okay, and…?"
With a deep breath, she said in a low voice, "I haven't seen or heard from you since… since that night."
Fuck.
It was difficult refraining from rolling his eyes or coming off too aggravated. He stepped towards her and looked right into those big, hazel eyes that were doing a piss poor job of concealing her worry.
"That's because there's nothing to tell you."
He squinted at her, finally noticing the slight redness in her eyes and the haphazard way her locks were tied into a bun. She was wearing one of Damian's hoodies, the sleeves tugged all the way over her hands.
"I heard you got pretty doped up last night."
Jess shifted where she stood, breaking eye contact. That gave him his answer, but hey, at least it wasn't stardust.
"I'm pretty sure it was unintentional," Tim had said quietly just twenty minutes ago before taking a sip from his coffee mug. "It's not like him to just ditch patrol, even if he's pissed. And he would have asked me to cover."
Jason agreed that it was unlikely for the demon brat to skip out on his nightly responsibilities without telling someone… At the same time, Damian was perfectly capable of acting like an angsty young adult and disappearing off to do angsty, young adult things if he really wanted to. Almost like he wanted to prove something. And it wasn't like he hadn't experienced a marijuana high before — the former Robin still recalled the one day he and his brothers had tried weed together years ago. Timmy had gotten paranoid and annoyingly anxious, Jason had had the trippiest time of his life, Dickbird had gotten the giggles, and, surprisingly, Little D was the most relaxed he'd ever seen the kid. He'd even (partially) joked that maybe the little assassin should take it up as a hobby to dispel his anger issues.
And then he'd gotten a dagger pointed threateningly in his direction because the high had worn off by then.
"I overheard Alfred telling Bruce that they came in around eleven last night and Jess was obviously high but Damian seemed fine," Tim had continued. "It wasn't until he went to go check on him around midnight for patrol that he realized he was definitely acting like a zombie. Glassy-eyed and everything. And then about another hour later, he caught them giggling like 'school girls' in the kitchen while eating ice cream straight out of the cartons."
Then Jason had snorted. "Sounds like the brat has been experiencing life and all it has to offer."
Seriously. He was pretty certain Damian's life had gotten more interesting after meeting Jess. A must, in his humble opinion.
"You haven't found out who that was or why they were after you?" Jess then asked. "Does it have anything to do with me or—or the people looking for me?"
Irritation inflamed his nerves as he glanced towards each of the kitchen's entrances. It would be horrible timing if anyone, especially the demon spawn, walked in on them. What the fuck was she thinking, trying to have this conversation with him under this roof?
He asked her that very thing.
Jess's brows furrowed as she insisted quietly, "Well, sorry if this is the only way I can talk to you because I'm not allowed to contact you on the burner."
She ignored his sigh of frustration and continued in a low but strained tone, "Haven't I done enough for you to trust me? Wasn't that night a—I don't know, some sort of rite of passage or test to be on your side or…"
Her voice trailed off as he let out a wry chuckle and shook his head. He'd known this would be complicated with her but not this complicated.
Setting the empty glass on the counter with a too-loud thud, Jason made stern eye contact.
"Jess, your rites of passage are things like graduating high school and getting your first car… not getting tangled up with vigilantes and assassins on Gotham's streets." He saw the way his words were making the teen clench her jaw but he didn't care. She needed the full picture. "All that night proved was that you aren't exactly aware of what you're capable of…"
He straightened up, still looking right into her eyes as he concluded,
"And that makes you dangerous. Besides, this isn't even about trust... but I'd better not find out you stopped by my apartment again like you did the other night."
She stayed silent, prompting him to tilt his head. "Do you mind?"
Jess's gaze fell to the floor as she turned to leave, but then she paused to say, "I still can't sleep at night… I see him when I close my eyes, I keep hearing you tell me that what I did was okay. I…"
He knew that feeling. He knew what it was like when it was ten times worse, too many voices fighting for dominance in his brain, too many vivid images — real or fake, he hadn't always known — replaying on the inside of his eyelids. Jason knew what she meant.
"It gets easier," he then told her.
Something like defeat touched Jess's features.
"If you don't think I'm equipped to do this with you, that it turns out I can do things that…" She trailed off for a moment before finishing, "Why not help me so that I am?"
He'd seen this coming.
"Do you trust me?"
Her lack of response might have stemmed from surprise at the question and not as hesitation. She nodded. "I do."
"Then start acting like it."
Jess held his gaze, and he would've been lying to say it didn't make him squirm a little.
"I gotta get going," he said abruptly, turning to leave after grabbing the tupperware full of Alfred's macaroni and cheese. It was the only reason he was even there.
"Which part gets easier?" she suddenly asked. "Hurting people or... the guilt and nightmares?"
Forcing himself to meet her eyes, Jason gave her an answer she probably didn't want to hear.
"... Both."
And then he walked away, feeling her gaze on his back.
Jess: thanks for calling him for me
Misty: no problem. I mean I would have even if you didn't ask me to
Jess: i asked you to? I don't remember that
Misty: lmao of course you don't. What DO you remember?
Jess's recollection of the previous night was eighty percent feelings and twenty percent… well, anything else. The high itself was vivid, memorable, plaguing her memory in a way that made it impossible to remember anything that wasn't part of the out-of-body experience. She and Damian had raided the fridge in the manor, she'd taken a shower, and they'd had mindblowing sex — in no particular order that she could name. Yet what Jess had taken away from those events was that the ice cream had never tasted better, the shower had been more like a waterfall in heaven, and the drug had stripped any trace of inhibition, revealing the pure, unadulterated desire in them.
A small part of her worried that somewhere in that mess, she might have spilled and confessed her true feelings about him.
Except Damian himself had accidentally joined her in the adventure, so maybe he didn't recall it either.
"Sorry you had to experience it without wanting to," Jess apologized as they entered her dorm. A change of clothes was in order after last night's fiasco… And painkillers with some water. Her mouth was a little cottony and dry, and she'd woken up with a slight headache.
Beats an alcohol hangover.
"I honestly don't know how those cookies got in my bag, but I probably just don't remember grabbing them."
"It wasn't your fault. It was… bearable while it lasted."
"Bearable or enjoyable?" she couldn't help teasing with a small but sly grin.
Damian rolled his eyes, moving to sit at the edge of her bed. "No matter how 'enjoyable' it may be, I have no intention of making it a habit."
"I'm actually not surprised," she mused while donning on the pair of sweats she'd picked out. "Considering the way you were completely, ah, unrestrained — you know, being a lot more vocal and talkative than you usually are — the weed obviously hit you pretty hard."
His gaze narrowed. "You were hardly quiet yourself."
She took too long forming an answer (though she wasn't going to deny it) because then Damian was counting on his fingers, listing phrases off as casually as reading a grocery list: "'God, you're so fucking hot,' 'Right there, Dami,' 'Fuck,' 'Do that again,'..."
The hoodie she threw hit the wall as Damian dodged it, so she tossed herself at him instead, tackling the young man back into the bed.
No "I love you" in that list, huh? Good.
But still. How embarrassing!
"Oh, now you would like me to be quiet?" he asked from beneath her finger against his lips.
"Yes."
"Hmph. I certainly didn't get this reaction last night… not when I was calling you a 'good girl' after you followed my instructions—"
Jess cringed and went to cover his mouth. "Nonono, please shut up," she laughed, burying her face into his chest.
When she glanced up a moment later, Damian's amused, green eyes were appraising her, and she could tell he was suppressing a smirk beneath her hand.
The briefest image of a lifeless gaze flickered over his face — her heart stuttered and so did her breathing.
No longer covering his mouth, she bent down to kiss him. "Wanna do it again, sober this time?"
"She killed him with her bare hands."
"Yes, that's what I said. She grabbed him, he turned... gray in a matter of seconds, and then he was dead. It was like she'd drained the life right out of him."
"And then?"
"What do you mean 'And then'? And then she freaked out because that was the first time she's taken a life. I'm pretty sure she didn't know she could even do that."
Jason definitely hadn't known she was capable of that… but it was no surprise. Part of him had always suspected it, and that night had pretty much confirmed it — just like it'd been planned.
"So she can restore a dying plant to health, mend a broken bone yet turn around and siphon the life out of a man with a single touch."
"Yeah, so tell your men next time not to be so enthusiastic in pretending to be a threat with her around."
"Oh, they weren't pretending."
He balked, nearly choking on the draw he'd been taking from his cigarette. "You actually ordered them to kill me?"
"As if you wouldn't have bested them anyway — and enjoyed it."
"Alright, fair, but why the fuck wouldn't you just tell them—?"
"Language, Jason. And you know it had to be believable."
He was thinking up a comeback and putting out the cig in the ashtray when he heard,
"This is beside the point. Where are you with the problem?"
Rolling his eyes, he explained, "All I have is a name: Phoenix. Word on the street is that this Phoenix is an outsider and has been lurking in the city for a few months now, probably just getting a feel for things. Must be doing a decent job staying under the radar if the Falcones and Penguin haven't called for the guillotine yet."
"And what of Damian?"
Jason scoffed as the smoke faded from around him, visible in the gray daylight filtering past the window curtain. "You tell me. You're the one who paid him a visit."
Talia sighed at the other end of the line.
"I see right through him," she said. "He longs to be set free, but living up to Bruce's expectations shackles him to that man's side day and night. He's simply blinded by his love for his father... and the girl."
He still recalled what the woman had said about Jess months ago: "If it weren't for her, Damian would have come to his senses soon enough and returned home."
And truthfully, Jason thought she was right.
"Any other unplanned appearances you plan on making?" he then asked casually. "Maybe showing up to Jess's dorm?"
Talia made a noise of irritation. "Confronting Damian was necessary, Jason. It forced him to realize he is in a cage when he's not meant to be in one. We'll proceed to the next phase once you've determined this Phoenix is no longer a threat."
"Well, now you know what might happen if you do decide to knock on her door and announce yourself as Damian's mother."
"We both knew she would display her potential eventually. Besides…"
Something about the change in Talia's tone had Jason pausing briefly as he shifted around in the chair.
"What she did to my assassin might have been unfortunate, but I can only imagine what she might do when she discovers Damian's secret… and yours."
Sometime in the near future
In the distance, sirens pierced the night air through the soft crackling of the flames that surrounded them. Beside her, Robin was sitting back against the stacks of pallets, attempting to catch his breath.
Jess herself was trying to inhale whatever oxygen was left from the smoke and debris floating around, the explosion's burning stench making her cough a little. But despite the headache growing in her head, the rising emotions were stronger, swelling in her chest and making it that much harder to breathe. It was outrage burning her soul from the inside out, a bitter desperation to understand why on her tongue… and something a lot like raw pain tearing at her heart.
Opening her eyes, Jess saw that he was watching her. Despite his mask, that was all she could feel — his intense stare past the white pupils.
"You've been lying to me."
Her voice was quiet, almost inaudible. Though his brows were covered by the domino, she could see it now more than ever, how familiar he was to her.
Robin's mouth opened, maybe to ask what she meant or to deny the accusation, but if there was anything in that moment that she knew with absolute certainty… it was that she'd spoken nothing but the truth. And she wasn't going to let him get away with twisting it any longer.
Through the stinging tears, Jess repeated shakily, "You've been lying to me, Damian."
Note: i'm so glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter! yay, it wasn't trash LOL. i'm relieved it wasn't a trainwreck. Quite funny how some of you are theorizing or expressing how you hope Jess discovers Damian's second identity, and as we can see from the little glimpse into the future I just gave you… *cough* too early to tell though from such a small tease.
Anyway. Thanks to everyone for reviewing! i love how you guys share your in-depth thoughts and predictions. As for Talia, i'm banking on this idea that she's a mother who wants what (she believes) is best for her child but, in short, messes up a lot and hurts said child in doing so, like parents tend to do in real life. I know she's often written as pure evil and all and i suppose she could be perceived as such in this story, but i think she's got motives that prove her humanity and maternal desires. I like evabrennan's theory that Talia might be projecting onto Damian because she harbors negative feelings about Bruce (and their obviously failed relationship). But at this point, I think at the very least, the woman feels like she's given her son enough time to explore his path and living with Bruce but has grown impatient in seeing Damian hasn't "realized" his destiny or whatnot.
And to answer Miss Victoria 20's questions, I'd say Talia has been keeping tabs on Damian and knew of Jess when they met the year before. She knew Jess's history and why she was getting into trouble, watched their friendship unfold. In regards to his scars, he did get them from his time growing up in the league hence why he's so unwilling to tell Jess about them!
Oh and yes, KirikaAndo, that is pretty much my headcanon for their ages, give or take a year here and there :) also thank you so much for that third comment, Damian lives rent-free in my head, too… o.O (honestly, they all do)
…
Ok so here's the aforementioned surprise! i had the most random *dream* the other day about Dami and Jess in a civilian alternate universe where they're regular ol' kids who meet in college. So naturally, i ran with it and wrote a sort of one-shot thing because i thought it was cute and a nice, temporary change of setting/breath of fresh air from all the angst and drama i've been drowning us in LOL. figured i'd share it with you guys :)
I mean seriously. the thought of them traversing the woes of young adulthood without all the complications of meta-human powers and capes and masks was compelling to say the least. Simply Damian and Jess versus overbearing parents, peer pressure, college, and the "real world"... just imagine.
enjoy!
Somewhere in an alternate universe where superheroes, the meta-human gene, and 10-year-old assassins don't exist…
Introduction to Ceramics seemed like it would be one of the more enjoyable classes in her first fall semester at Gotham University, the semester that had originally felt like a good idea when she sat down and signed up for five damn courses. In hindsight, the determination to take full advantage of the scholarship and enjoy all the college had to offer was to blame for her eager fingers on the keyboard, and that same energy was just a little less… potent as Jess bounced her knee in her seat, minutes before the class was supposed to start. Still, a particular mixture of excitement, nervousness, and curiosity stirred in her chest as she scanned the large studio, hoping this elective course would be as promising as it had sounded in the catalogue.
She counted at least ten other students bustling around the pottery wheels and tables, which was around the limit for the class but also made sense, considering it was an intro course — and an elective at that. (Were there any other biology majors here with her? Or were they all art kids?) Far in the back of the studio was a kiln and several shelves filled with supplies. Professor Hartman was a balding man in a simple t-shirt, who began speaking the second he walked through the door at precisely eleven on the dot.
"Alright, Intro to Ceramics," he announced cheerfully, his voice carrying easily over the students. "Don't let the course title fool you because by the end of the semester, you'll walk out of here with the most beautiful pieces of artwork to put around your home, give to loved ones, or simply hoard to yourself."
In her seat, Jess smiled to herself, picturing her snake plant in a classy pot created by her own hands.
The first in-class assignment was easy. They had to explain in a single, short paragraph what their experience was with pottery, and if none, what skills they hoped to leave with. The answer came easily to her at least — a quick glance around told her that not everyone knew how to respond to the prompt.
Class didn't get to end without her phone vibrating on the paint-stained desk a few times. Sneaking to check it, she saw that the notification was a text from her aunt (again).
I forgot, did you say you'll be home for lunch? she'd written.
Jess made a mental sigh before shoving the device into her backpack pocket. Giving Lora her schedule had apparently been a fruitless task if she was sending messages before her very first class of the semester was even over.
Professor Hartman soon dismissed them, prompting her to stand up and grab her things like everyone else. Her curious stare roamed over all the colorful evidence of art in its rawest form around her as she wandered in the direction of the door, the paper with scribbled handwriting still between her fingertips.
"You're supposed to submit that."
Jess spun around and searched for the source of those words, her startled gaze landing on a chest wearing a gray hoodie inside a red jacket and then traveling up to green eyes. Pretty, green eyes.
They weren't the innocent sage or kind-of-turquoise she had seen before. No, these irises were ringed by a dark, forest color that faded inwards into a… Her brain scrambled for something in the world that could describe the shade. Jess had witnessed and learned about many hues of green in all the plants and earthly foliage she'd cared for, but not a single one she could remember came close. Not to this deep, emerald kind of green.
In the most respectful and simplest way, the young man to whom the eyes belonged was stunning. She really didn't notice that he'd raised a brow, still awaiting an answer, because she was too busy noticing instead the inky locks pushed back, falling into place like puzzle pieces. His jawline was as sharp as his bronzed skin appeared smooth, and those cheekbones would give supermodels a run for their money.
And then he held his hand out to her, throwing a wrench right into Jess's malfunctioning thought process.
The confusion must have been obvious on her face. He rolled his eyes.
"I will turn it in for you."
It must've been her rapid heartbeat preventing her from speaking properly.
"No, uh, I can—I can do it. You don't have to—"
His gaze shifted. "I'm Professor Hartman's teaching assistant."
Well that made a lot more sense… Though it didn't do much to help her as she handed the folded paper to him. Had he been in here with the class the whole time?
"Right. Um, thanks."
The stranger and his emerald eyes gave her a once-over before brushing past. Her nose caught a whiff of something woodsy and warm.
Jess did her best to shake off whatever nonsense she was feeling, glancing one more time in his direction. He was exchanging words with the professor at the front of the studio, the stack of submitted sheets in his hands. Get over it, Jess. With a heavy sigh, she followed the remaining students trickling out the door.
Tuesday wasn't much better in the sense that she was still getting her shit together. Both her literature and biology professors had already assigned preliminary readings due for Thursday in publications that weren't readily available in the bookstore on campus… or online. Thus, a chunk of her afternoon was spent getting lost in the giant library — part of that was her own fault due to a self-inflicted refusal to ask anyone for help.
But once she had everything (she thought) she needed, Jess checked her watch and nearly had a heart attack: it was a quarter to four, and her next class was in the easternmost building on the school grounds, all the way across campus.
Muttering expletives under her breath, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and scooped up the textbooks into her arms. She rounded the corner, trying to remember what direction the desk was to check out—
And walked right into something tall and hard.
It wasn't a bookshelf. No, it was nearly a whole head taller, wearing a dark red sweater, and smelling really good, familiar even.
It—he stared down at her with vibrant eyes that somehow made her feel completely naked.
"Do you always run about with your head in the clouds or is it a temporary lapse in brain activity?"
Three full seconds passed before Jess blinked and felt words, whatever they were, trying to leave her mouth.
"I—What? No," she heard herself say hastily. "I just…"
Suddenly, he was pointedly holding up one of the paperback books that must have fallen off the stack in her arms. She watched him place it back on top where it slid down and hit the front of her chest.
(Vaguely, it occurred to her that none of the potted plants at home could compete with those eyes, not the monstera deliciosa or even the pothos. Her philodendron at its healthiest was probably the closest thing to the bold shade still staring at her.)
"Sorry. I didn't see you coming," Jess managed before moving to step around him.
Was it her or did he act like he had a stick up his ass?
Moments later, she realized she was going in the wrong direction. Damn it. Warmth rose in her face while she spun on her heel and walked past the same aisle she'd left him in. Against her will, Jess's eyes flickered over briefly… just as he glanced up from the book he'd pulled from the shelf.
He maintained eye contact for the short length of time it took for her to walk by, but for a reason she couldn't immediately name, it felt so much longer.
Her foot hit something, causing a minor rattle and startling her from the moment. She'd nearly stumbled into a cart full of books that stood against the end of the shelf, all the publications shuffling against each other on impact. A student sitting nearby looked over, and Jess swallowed back the embarrassment expanding in her throat and chest.
She didn't want to look back and see if he'd seen because, at the very least, he had to have heard it.
Suddenly, a cool voice at her shoulder said, "Head in the clouds it is."
Then Jess watched his tall figure walk away, leaving only her thumping heart and warm humiliation for company.
He'd known this semester wouldn't be any easier than the spring one, yet he could already feel the fatigue dragging in his bones from the load of upper-level courses and extracurricular activities he'd signed himself up for. No one had told him to do it, not directly, but there had to be someone else to blame for the decision he'd made two years ago to finish undergrad early.
"Early" meaning before the typical four-year period, just like Timothy had done… In five semesters, to be specific. Seven if they were to count the summers during which he'd enrolled.
His brother was to blame then, Tim and those stupid standards he'd inadvertently set the moment Father signed those adoption papers.
Yet of course, finishing his undergraduate degree didn't quite mean much if medical school was the next feat.
Damian stuck his hand into his pocket to retrieve the phone vibrating incessantly. He slowed in his walk through the university's sports complex, seeing that it was Dick calling him. The indoor air had grown slightly colder across his skin due to the ice rink below, where he'd often seen hockey players practicing. If not the hockey team, it was the basketball players at the other side, their shoes squeaking across the shiny court.
"I told you I would call you tonight."
"I know, I know, but I've got a little free time here at the station and wanted to see if our future Dr. Wayne is up for a late lunch?"
For the thousandth time, the nickname made him cringe inwardly. Dick had gone heavy on the corny doctoral references around the time Damian had started at the university, and now that he was approaching graduation, his older brother was doing it again.
"I'm on my way to class," Damian answered briskly as he approached the door that would lead to the court.
Squeezing by a few students coming through from inside, he realized some kind of hip-hop remix was playing. On the court was a large group of women dressed in athleisure, performing choreography in unison. One woman in particular was watching them and shouting an eight-count punctuated by a few encouraging claps here and there. Gotham U's dance team appeared to be in full swing already, though not to Damian's surprise. They'd been nationally recognized and awarded several times in the last decade or so for their impressive hybrid of routines and technical skills. Having such a renowned dance team, on top of other successful sports teams, paired well with competitive academic programs in boosting the status for the city's local university.
"You at a club or something?" his brother's voice came through.
"I'm at the basketball court."
Damian's eyes roamed over the group, and then he did a double take. A young woman towards the front had caught his bored gaze. Like some of the others, she wore a sports bra and a pair of Gotham U joggers with dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
Despite the distance, she seemed familiar.
With Dick still talking his ear off, he stepped closer to the balcony separating him and passersby from the bleachers below. The captain had paused the music to call something out about being in sync. From here, it was evident that the brunette's cheeks were slightly pink as she put her hands on her hips, chest heaving with breaths.
It was the girl from earlier this week , the one who'd seemingly lost her voice upon their meeting in the pottery studio and literally ran into him at the library. For a dancer, she was horrendously clumsy, Damian mused to himself.
"Damian?"
"What?"
"Did you even hear any of what I just said?"
He rolled his eyes. "You hope I've been spending time with Father and getting along with Timothy."
"Well, yes, exactly. Hey, what about tomorrow afternoon?"
"Student government."
"Oh, duh. You got elected prez, right?"
"I'm vice president."
"I thought you said—"
"I'm president of the debate club."
"I knew that."
With a sigh and a glance at his watch, Damian said, "I have to get going. My class starts in ten minutes."
He moved to continue walking across the length of the court to the double doors ahead, but something magnetic pulled at him. His eyes landed back on her just as the music started back up, the women restarting the dance number at the captain's count.
"Okay, remember what I said about—"
"Goodbye, Richard."
He stayed for another moment, long enough to watch her and someone else execute a synchronized backflip that matched perfectly with the song's beat drop. It was then that he suddenly remembered what had been written in a loopy scrawl on the assignment she'd handed him the other day.
Her name was Jessica.
They met again on Friday night at a frat party Jon had dragged him to. Rather, the two of them were at the same table littered in alcoholic beverages and plastic cups, reaching for the exact same soda can. He hadn't seen her, or any of the ceramics students in that particular class for that matter, since Monday, considering Professor Hartman only needed him one day a week.
Piercing, green eyes met startled, hazel ones. Damian retracted his outstretched fingers, and she took it as a sign to go for the drink their hands had almost touched over. He then snatched up the vodka bottle nearby, dumping its contents into an empty cup.
Despite the rap music that vibrated his bones and was nothing short of annoying to his ears, he heard her.
"Do you always take your liquor straight or is it a temporary lapse in giving a shit?"
Admittedly, it took a moment for him to first realize she was speaking to him and then notice her choice of words.
She was gazing at him with an unreadable expression as he took the cup and was about to walk off.
"It's not for me."
On cue, Jon appeared at his side, blue eyes bright with excitement. "What's taking you so—? Oh, finally, thank you," he grabbed the drink out of Damian's hand.
He grimaced upon first sip but was otherwise unfazed as he suggested, "Beer pong is open."
Damian, still aware of the girl's eyes flickering between the two young men, shook his head, uninterested. "No, Jon."
His friend rolled his eyes, gesturing at the laughing and dancing college students around them. "Come on, Damian. You said you wouldn't be broody tonight."
The chuckle poorly concealed by a cough made his gaze snap onto her, where she was pretending to busy herself with pouring alcohol into her own drink. Why was she still there?
Before he could give Jon a retort, he was offering, "I know you don't feel like drinking, so I'll take all the shots, okay? Let's go find some people to play."
Again, Damian didn't have a chance to respond; she was shooting them both a smile, having finally made her drink an eternity later.
"I'll play you guys."
Jon's brows shot up as he grinned, glancing towards Damian as if he would share the enthusiasm. "Really? That'd be great. Do you have a friend to join—?"
"No," she answered abruptly with a casual headshake. "It's okay though. I can handle my own."
Impressed yet again, Jon whistled and then gestured towards the end of the room where the game was arranged and ready. Neither of them looked at Damian as they headed off, making him sigh exasperatedly and follow along.
Several people had been vaguely interested in watching from the beginning, but it didn't take very long until the three of them had gathered a crowd. Truthfully, it was Jon's new friend who had caught their eye in her decision to play against them alone... That, and she was winning.
Damian had nailed all his throws so far, but the same couldn't be said about Jon, who was indeed taking the shots whenever they—whenever he missed or she succeeded. And her throws were nearly as spot-on as Damian's, making the shots at the boys' end of the table empty at an alarming rate. The two of them were clearly having the time of their lives, hooting in laughter and playfully mocking one another. As much as he attempted to avoid it, Damian couldn't help smirking a little at their behavior, only mildly irritated by Jon's obnoxiousness but even more so intrigued by hers.
At the game's conclusion, Jon gave their unexpected contender a friendly hug amidst the applause, then told Damian he was going to get water. She didn't hang around afterwards, only meeting his eyes briefly and then disappearing into a crowd of bodies.
He needed air.
Texting his friend that he'd be outside, Damian found his way to the backyard where only a few other partygoers were chatting and sharing joints. The smell made him wander to the far edge of the wide patio until cool, fresh air greeted his nose and breezed through his hair. It was a momentary getaway from the boisterous music and insufferable young adults inside, but this would suffice.
Damian tilted his head back to gaze at the dark sky, wishing briefly that he could see the stars washed out by the city's lights.
"Soo… I take it this isn't really your scene?"
He didn't have to turn around to know whom the slightly slurred words belonged to.
She joined him a few feet away, leaning onto the balcony like he was. The night wind blew stray hairs across her face, prompting her to tuck them behind her ear.
"No, it isn't," Damian answered.
A sharp exhale drew his gaze to where she was giving him a tentative smile. The few shots she'd taken must have taken full effect by now, making her eyes glisten. If he looked closely enough, there was the faintest flush rising in her skin. It contrasted well against the light blue tank top she wore. Her wrists and neck were adorned with colorful bracelets and a black choker.
"It's not mine either."
"Then why are you here?"
She looked out to where the city's nightlife twinkled beyond them, a world seemingly separated from this one filled with alcoholic drinks, drugs, and frightful unknowns.
"I don't really know," she finally said, though Damian found that he understood.
Silence befell them for a little while. He was considering heading back inside to find Jon, who hadn't texted back, when she straightened up and met his eyes again.
"I was kind of thinking that by now, I'd know your name."
"You don't know my name?"
"No…? I mean, we've met once and you walked away before any introductions could be made," she said, gesturing with her hands. "Well, twice, if we're counting, ah, the library, although that time wasn't exactly... ripe for formalities."
He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "You mean you weren't paying attention when Professor Hartman introduced me."
A drunken snort escaped from her. "Yeah, I must have been texting or something… Ya know, got distracted enough that I didn't know you were there at all, which is crazy because you're kind of hard to miss…"
A single brow shot up in interest as he watched the realization dawn on her slowly, perhaps as languidly as the way she felt from the alcohol. Shiny, hazel eyes met his for the briefest moment and then she was clearing her throat and reaching to tidy her hair.
There she was again, the pink-faced, shy young woman he'd met that day. It was as if he was getting another glimpse of her past the unfiltered, drunken one.
And then she was tossing him a smile, having forgotten about the last few moments. "Jess."
"Your name in the attendance is 'Jessica.'"
"Yeahhh, and I go by 'Jess,'" she said slowly with raised brows.
"Damian... with an 'A' and not an 'E'."
He was considering extending his hand when she tilted her head towards the inside of the house.
"Well, Damian with an 'A,' I saw a dart board in there."
What was worse, her calling him that or the suggestion to play a dart game?
"You want to play with darts after drinking?"
"Don't underestimate the power of a drunken hand," she told him with a crooked smile.
His immediate answer was hesitation, but there was no denying that the idea piqued his interest… especially after the game they'd just had. He couldn't end the night on a loss let alone refuse another challenge.
"Alright," Damian then agreed, pushing himself off the balcony. "Although, I'm not sure it's an even playing field if you are under the influence."
"In that case, wouldn't a drink or two for you make it fair?"
In that fleeting moment, she was looking at him, as if… well, he wasn't quite sure. In spite of how easy she'd been to read before, she simply appeared to be withholding a secret, one that was locked behind lips curved into a haughty smile. Not even the hazel-colored albeit intoxicated windows into the soul gave him a hint — which fascinated him, like a mystery coaxing him from a place he'd least expected.
Crossing his arms, he answered, "Two against one wasn't fair to begin with."
"And somehow you still lost," she said, pretending to be confused.
His gaze narrowed. For once, he didn't know what to say. Contrary to the first two times they'd met, her blows were as quick as her wit even while slightly inebriated, and he was barely avoiding them. It was jarring.
Damian readjusted his jacket and checked his watch to conceal the fact that he was gathering himself.
"This time, it will only be you and me. Don't expect to win again."
She grinned. "Wanna bet on it?"