I'm finally back. I'm sorry for the wait but I am back as promised. I won't abandon this fic even though it might feel like it. We're getting pretty close to the end so let me know what you guys want to happen.

Enjoy

Cassandra

The jet lands roughly on a rooftop of an abandoned warehouse near the main docks, rattling its occupants. It was a long flight, riddled with unsaid things that settled around them like loaded trip wires. Cassandra shifts uncomfortably in the silence.

Bruce spins the passenger seat of the jet around to face the rest of them in the back, his face stern with worry. Without a word spoken he nods to Dick, who stands stoically with Damian by his side, and exits the jet. Tim and Cassandra are next, muscles tense as they walk side by side across the roof, down the fire escape and onto the haunted pavement below.

As soon as the jet is out of sight, Tim sags heavily for a brief moment. They don't have the time to rest but they both take a minute to shake the jet ride from their skin. Cassandra shivers anxiously and she and Tim shake out their hands. With the awkwardness behind them they set off.

The eight of them have been split up into teams with Barabara and Alfred working remotely. Stephanie and Duke will continue their normal patrol of the main downtown district and the other six have split up Penguins' warehouses between them. Diana and Bruce are taking the more heavily trafficked warehouses in the inner city, Dick and Damian are taking the ones just outside the city and Cass and Tim have the dockside warehouses.

Tim and Cassandra's shadows follow them through the winding waterside avenues, the mid afternoon sun losing its battle against the cold. The wind picks up, gathering trash and blowing it into the back of Tim's heels as he stops to watch the back door of the first warehouse on their route. Cassandra freezes beside him, watching intently. A minute passes before Tim signals the all clear and they make their way to the door.

Cass forces the door open and the two of them slip inside, pausing in the darkness. It doesn't look like anyone has been here in a long time, but the last thing they want to do is accidentally leave Jason concealed in a warehouse that they have already checked. So, they creep along, sprinting from vantage point to vantage point, just to make sure it's just as empty as it looks. And it is.

They slip out the same door they came in and take off in a run to the next warehouse, which is about two miles away. They can feel the clock ticking away as if Jason's heart is actively stilling in their hands, and so they run and they run and they run, like his life depends on it.

They stop outside the next warehouse, which glows dimly with life. Tim and Cassandra exchange a look and move to flank either side of the door. Tim's scanner detects the heat of at least one person inside and signs his findings quickly to Cassandra. She nods and waits for his signal. Tim watches as the figure maintains its stillness for a few more moments and he and Cassandra silently pry the door open and slip inside.

The warehouse reeks of blood and vomit and sweat, and Cassandra knows immediately that this building concealed Jason. She glances at Tim, whose face is stern with worry, sweat gleaming on his brow. Together they move silently among the tarp covered boats, weaving through forgotten things until they find it.

A naked lightbulb sways gently overhead, it's light casting violent shadows around the space. Below it the concrete is a mess of blood and bile, puddles of water littler the space between them and a large work table which has been tipped over on its side, spilling its contents across the floor. The shape of a large burly man lay motionless to their left and right behind him is a bundled tarp.

Tim brings the back of his hand up to his nose for just one moment of weakness. Cass watches sympathetically but nudges him forward anyway. Tim makes his way to the man while Cass walks just past him to the tarp. It's clear to her that there is something underneath it. She knows it's too small to be her brother, so she swallows her fear and lifts the tarp gently.

She's falling, that's what this sensation is. She's falling and all of the blood has congregated in her chest, leaving her extremities weak and tingling. The tarp slips from her trembling fingers and she takes a step back to catch herself. Tim is beside her, anxiety simmering off of him like a heat wave. He steps, kneels down and lifts up the tarp as Cassandra's mind desperately tries to communicate with the rest of her body.

Tim chokes on his breath, his free hand flies to his mouth. He sweeps the rest of the tarp off of the small body underneath, then falls back unto his heels. Because they both know this boy, visited with him under Jason's supervision. Tiny fingers twisted into the fabric of their capes. And they both know that if he is here, dead before them, his body still warm beneath Tim's fingertips, that Jason cannot be saved. No matter his physical state, Jason will never recover from this.

Cass drags herself back into her body, knows they can't afford the time to dwell, to grieve. She puts a hand on Tim's shoulder and pulls him away. They both stumble to the other body and kneel beside it. She rests her hands where a pulse should be at the large man's neck and finds stillness. On closer observation it's clear that his neck is broken.

Tim steps away to look over the rest of the scene giving Cass a moment to fully compose herself. She enters a code into her comms, connecting her with GCPD. Officer Cash answers and she tells him as simply as she can that he needs to send a few units out to their location, that there are bodies that need to be picked up. She hangs up and moves to join Tim in the center of the room. He's staring at the overturned table, hands on his hips, mind racing.

He points to the table, "There was obviously some kind of struggle here. We know the man died from a broken neck so there is no way Jason is responsible. The only logical scenarios is that there was some sort of internal dispute between kidnappers or they were interrupted by a rival crew. Either way Jason has clearly been moved to a secondary location."

"Agreed." Cass confirms.

Tim nods and hops onto comms to tell the rest of their party of their findings, temporarily leaving out Charlie's demise.

"Does anyone else have anything? We can't be more than an hour behind them judging by the state of the corpse we found."

At first there's nothing, everyone chipping in with information and questions, then the world trembles, there's the sound of a not-too-far off explosion.

"Um, guys!" Steph's panicked voice forces its way through the static.

"Stephanie what is it?" Bruce asks.

Cass moves closer to Tim's side, both of them already heading for the door.

"Stephaine do you have eyes on the explosion?" Bruce asks again.

"Oh fuck-" Steph yells before her com cuts out.

Jason

When Jason wakes, the world is on fire and Artemis is gone. Everything is pain and heat and noise. He manages to focus his eyes on the battling figures in front of him but what he sees doesn't make sense. From where he sits, slumped against the brick wall of a miscellaneous building in the slums of Gotham, he watches as Frank and Spiky exchange blows. She seems to be yelling something at him but Jason can't make out her words.

Soaked in blood from the gash on her scalp, Spiky does her best to avoid Frank's meaty fist. Despite him only having one working hand, he still towers over her and the blood loss isn't helping. She manages to duck his blow and twist behind him, she grabs his arm and twists, pushing him onto his chest. She shoves him onto the ground sharply, and being unable to catch himself he hits the pavement hard. She's making her way around him, possibly to bash in his skull when he pulls the pistol from his waistband and turns onto his back.

The first bullet rips through her thigh, and before she can even cry out the second one catches the underside of her jaw and blows the top of her skull off. She crumbles to the ground, her spiky hair plastered to what's left of her face with blood and gore.

Jason squints at the brain matter that has landed on his bare foot, struggling to focus on it. Frank struggles to his feet and lets out a sickly cackle. Looking over, he notices that Jason is awake and stumbles towards him, grinning. He kneels down in front of him and leans in so that Jason is sure to hear him over the roar of the inferno.

"She was never actually going to do it. Even told me not to rig the place up and just tell you I did. She always had a soft spot for these types of things. Her and Ernie both." Frank bellows. But Jason just stares, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. "She even tried to stop me. Tired to save Ernie too! But, well, she wasn't fast enough was she?"

Frank laughs but there is darkness in his eyes. "You see, Mister Hood, you killed a lot of my people. " He says, reaching forward and digging his fingers into the bloody hole in Jason's side. Jason cries out, tries to squirm away, but he's not sure he could move his arms if his life depended on it, which it very well might.

Frank puts his face right next to Jason's ear when he whispers "So I thought I would return the favor."

Frank steps out of view so that Jason can get a good look at the crumbling building in front of him. He forces his eyes to focus and once he has, he wishes he hadn't. He knows this building, the block wide warehouse, whose skylight now lays shattered along the ground like pixie dust.

Jason's chest seizes so painfully at the realization that he cries out, tries to curl into himself, away from the wreckage before him, away from the dozens of little bodies who lay encased in rubble and melted glass.

Franks laughs again and extends his arms, spinning slowly, relishing the feeling of victory. He must know that Gotham's vigilante's will be upon him at any moment but he seems unbothered, drunk on the feeling.

Jason's mind can't seem to fully process what is happening before him. The visage of Artemis that he saw at the warehouse has abandoned him again, and he squeezes his eyes tightly to conjure her image in his mind. But all he sees is fire and blood.

His heart constricts with the effort it takes to circulate what little blood he has left, and he knows he won't be around for much longer, no matter how close Steph and Duke are to getting here. So Jason, in the midst of this chaos and blood, gives in. Turns his gaze to the sky, where the flames blend with the dull orangish blue of Gotham twilight and takes a deep sobering breath. Tears make trails through the blood on his face, and Jason watches the smoke in pure relief.

Soon this will be over. Soon this will all be over.

So when Frank decides that he's had his fun and trains his gun at Jason's face, he doesn't snarl, he doesn't flinch, he doesn't rebel. Jason barely brings his gaze down to meet the eyes of the man before him, and as the next round slides into the chamber, Jason glances one more time up at the dark Gotham sky, the only home he has ever really known.

Then the gun fires.

Thoughts? Feelings?

Until next time (which will hopefully be sooner rather than later),

MS