UPDATE 06/13/22

Well, I finally gave in. You guys have been asking for it, so here you go. I added the full uncensored super-lemon sex scene at the end of the chapter. Can't post it here on FFN, so find my story on AO3 to read it. Hope you enjoy! (If you're not into that stuff, you're welcome to skip it. It literally has no impact on the plot, it's just smut, lol.)

25. Death Becomes Him

Dora woke up and rolled over. She stretched out in Holly's bed, popping the kinks out of her back and limbs. She groaned in relief.

Holly's apartment was shrouded in darkness. Only a few thin strips of light hit the far wall, sneaking in through the shades on the room's lone window. A breeze fluttered through, cooling Dora's sweaty face and chest. She had recovered from the hangover for the most part. The only discomfort she felt was the need for a toilet.

She got up and noticed that Holly's pillow had gray streaks in it. Cursing, Dora went to the bathroom, and yes, it was just as she thought. She had fallen asleep in her make-up: the smokey eye-shadow and mascara she had put on to "fit in" at the Street Demonz's clubhouse.

Dora grimaced at herself. She looked like something between a dead panda and a black metal singer. Her make-up was smeared all over her face and streaks ran down her cheeks. How could Holly want to kiss her looking like this, even jokingly? Dora cringed, realizing she must have looked no better when she first arrived at the Alibi from the Demonz' clubhouse.

After a long cold shower, Dora put on her usual outfit: glasses, t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and no make-up. She admitted to herself that she liked getting dolled up, but it wasn't worth the effort everyday.

Walking into the bar, Dora noticed that it wasn't very busy. She counted only a dozen customers spread out across the whole barroom, and Rochelle was by herself behind the counter.

"There she is!" Rochelle said, smiling at her. "How are you feeling?"

"Starving," Dora groaned, sliding onto a stool.

"I'll slice you an orange."

Dora's stomach growled for something more substantial, but she knew fruit for garnish and mixers were all that Rochelle had on hand behind the bar counter. "Thanks. Where's Lily?"

"Ma's girls weren't reeling anybody in, so they called it quits and Lily went with them." Rochelle placed a bowl of orange slices on the counter. "It's Sunday. Slow night."

"Right." Dora munched on the fruit, feeling like she had lost a whole day. "Hey, why don't you go home too? I'll close up."

"Really? You sure?"

"Yeah, I owe you for covering for me while I slept all day, and for listening to me whine and cry last night."

"Anytime, Dee." Rochelle held her hand. "That was quite a story you told me. No better reason to shed a tear than all that shit." She shook her head, and lowered her voice. "Still can't believe he was your ex and you couldn't tell."

Dora groaned; her mouth full of orange. She had tried to explain to Rochelle that her own subconscious had been in complete and utter denial, but it was hard sell even to herself. On some level she knew that Red Hood looked and felt familiar, but she had just chalked it up to plain and simple sexual chemistry.

"Explains so much, though, doesn't it?" Rochelle went on. "Despite having a literal fucking harem of hot and eager women, you're the only one he wants."

"Stop. I don't think he'd ever sleep with a prostitute anyway," Dora countered. "It'd be too weird. Because of his mom."

"Alright," Rochelle conceded. "But I wouldn't say it was just working girls trying their luck. Jessie told me she made a pass at him before she met you."

Dora involuntarily squeezed the orange slice in her hand. Juice squirted out and hit Rochelle's shirt.

Rochelle laughed, wiping herself off. "Don't worry. Like I said, Dee, he turned her down. But the fact that it bothers you tells me something."

Dora couldn't meet her eyes. She wiped off her hands with a napkin. "What are you talking about?"

Rochelle smiled, shaking her head. "Never mind. I'll see you later." Before leaving, Rochelle pulled Dora into a tight hug, and held it for a moment. Dora felt her eyes tingle, but she didn't want to start crying again.

After her small breakfast (or late-night snack, if she considered the hour), Dora checked the open tabs on the cash register, sorted the bills in the drawer, and left a small cash bonus for Rochelle under the tray. Maybe Rocky deserved a permanent raise, but Dora wasn't sure how long the cashflow from this windfall would last.

Would Red Hood—no, would Jason cut her out of his organization? Did she even want to be a part of it anymore? Could the Alibi survive without the Red Hood Gang's lifeline? Could her family get by without the Alibi?

Should she go to the cops and tell them who Red Hood is? Last time they spoke, Montoya had offered immunity if she flipped on Red Hood. Back then, Dora declined because she honestly didn't have the damning information they wanted. Well... she didn't decline just because of that. That day was the first time she actually started supporting Jason's mission. And now she was as deep as they intially thought she was. She now had the information the GCPD wanted. Could they make a deal and pull her out?

Did she even want out? What would happen to Holly, Jessie, Lilith, and Reilly if she went to the police?

Would Ma Gunn keep her promise and try to kill her?

Or maybe she could figure out a way to tell Batman. Maybe with his help, the collateral damage would be minimal.

But Dora set these questions aside for later. She just wanted to close up the bar, go back upstairs, watch Netflix, and give her mind a fucking break.

She announced last call, and made a lap around the bar, clearing tables, taking last orders, settling tabs, and giving final refills.

Eventually coming around to the corner booth, she took a moment to inspect the sullen man sitting in it. Rochelle had called him "black hat" on the register. He wore a gray canvas jacket and a black baseball cap low over his eyes. He was cradling a half empty mug, idly swirling the liquid around. She checked his receipt as she slid it over to him: only a few draft beers. "Six dollars; when you're ready."

The man reached into his pocket and placed a crisp twenty on the table. As Dora was about to take the bill, the man also slid his keys over to her.

Dora hesitated, blinking a few times. A couple beers over a few hours, for a man his size... he couldn't be that drunk. Plus, he had tipped more than he owed. Still, she said, "Should I call you a cab? Help get you a ride-share?"

The man took off his baseball cap, revealing tousled jet-black hair. He looked at her with smoldering blue-gray eyes.

Jason.

"Those keys belong to you," he said, holding her gaze. "You never came back to get your car."

Dora's heart ached just looking at him. Without his mask, and with her head sober and clear, she could see how much Jason had changed in eight years. A faint scar bisected his eyebrow, continued up his forehead and disappeared into his hairline. His face had too many rough and hard edges to be considered classically handsome, but he was certainly good-looking. He had filled out over the years; he didn't look like the half-starved teenage boy she remembered. His jaw and chin were more defined, covered in stubble that framed his face and drew attention to his eyes—a bit sunken as if from lack of sleep, but they were pale as ever—the white-hot blue of a welder's torch.

Dora felt like crying again. She felt like punching him again.

"Leave," she said through gritted teeth.

"No," Jason said. "We need to talk."

"So you can tell me more lies?"

"I never lied to you."

"But you kept a secret from me for years. You let me believe you died."

"It's complicated. Let me explain. You deserve that."

"You mean I deserve the truth?"

"If that's what you want to call it."

For a moment, Dora wished Lily hadn't taken the night off, so she could kick Jason's ass out... but as badass as Lily was, she would never stand a chance against the Red Hood. Hell, Jason was technically Lily's boss, not her. And the cops could not be an option now.

"Fine." She was ready for an argument and didn't want to hold back, so privacy was necessary. Snatching the money and keys from the table, she shouted to everyone, "Closing time!"

Dora herded the straggling customers out of the Alibi, locked up behind him, and pulled down the front window's new heavy duty security shutter. No one could see (or send flying motorcycles) in or out of the front window.

When she was done, Jason stood. "Dora, I'm sorry."

Here we go, she thought, rolling her eyes. "I don't care if you're sorry."

An apology didn't help how she felt... but Dora didn't know what she felt. She felt sad, she felt angry, she felt… something...

It was like... when he took off that mask, he un-stitched a wound in her that never really healed. It was like she was mourning him, grieving him, all over again... but in reverse. It felt so weird.

She felt sore. It was a dull pain in her chest she knew well.

"I'm not playing this game with you again, Jason."

"What game?" He took a step toward her.

She stepped away. "Did you forget? This isn't the first time you've disappeared on me and come back from fucking nowhere with a whole new life."

"This time it's different."

The tears finally fell, Dora couldn't stop them. "The first time you stole from me. Stole from Leslie. You betrayed me. But yeah," she laughed dryly. "I guess you're right, the first time you didn't disappear for eight fucking years. The first time you didn't make me believe you died."

"That was never my intention, you have to know that."

"You never intended to make me fall for you, then break my heart? Each fucking time? Why didn't you just break up with me, then leave like a decent human being? Why make me believe terrorists killed you?"

"Dora, you don't understand."

She stomped up to him and jabbed her finger into his chest. "No, Jason, you don't understand. I mourned you. You should know now, better than most people, what true grief feels like. It's like death follows us everywhere. Why would you make me suffer through that? For your sake?"

Dora hesitated a moment, but decided to be honest. "Can you even begin to imagine what I went through? We were so tight, I was basically a widow at sixteen years old. It's bad enough to have your heart broken for the first time, but over the death of your first love too? And it wasn't just my heart, Jason. I nearly broke."

To his credit, Jason listened and took a moment to choose his next words carefully. "I think... It hurt then because you cared. It hurts now because you still care." Jason approached her, but she didn't move away. "Dora, can't you see what we had never really died? It just… went dormant, hibernated. Don't you miss it? Don't you want it back?"

Looking up at him, she couldn't deny it to herself. Yes, she thought, but out loud she said, "Not anymore. I've grown up. We were teenagers. We were naive. I should have never invested so much of myself in you."

"We loved each other. We had each other's backs." He took her hand. "If anything, we need each other now more than ever."

I don't need him, Dora told herself.

But you want him, said her loneliness.

He's a criminal. The kingpin of a syndicate, she thought.

But he runs it as ethically as possible, the emptiness countered.

He has no qualms about killing people... and he 's killed a lot.

But he's a soldier fighting a war... he's never killed an innocent person. He always had your back when you were kids.

No, Dora thought. He betrayed me. He stole from me, stole from Leslie.

He was trying to survive. You've broken the law for survival too, her darkness pointed out. He wants to make up for everything. Don't you want a partner that will look out for you no matter what? Don't you want someone else to take care of you for a change?

Dora thought of the way Rochelle and Ben supported each other, not letting hard life in Gotham, or the risk of deportation, bring them down or tear them apart.

She wanted that. It had been so damn long since she last had that with someone, and she missed it. Dear god, she missed it.

Rochelle, Holly, Carla, Jessie, Lily, Leslie... She had the best, most loving, most supportive friends in the world. But she still felt lonely.

So. God. Damn. Lonely.

She didn't want to carry that burden any longer.

"You lied to me," Dora told Jason. She bit her lip, trying to stop herself from crying. "Kept secrets."

"I will never do that again," he said, his voice low and earnest.

"Promise?" Her eyes were wet and gleaming.

Jason took off her glasses and held her face. With his fingers on her neck, his thumbs on her temples, she felt shivers rippling through her body. In his hands, she felt safe again.

"Yes, I promise." He wiped her tears away. "I'll explain everything."

This close, she didn't need her glasses, she could see him clearly. She desperately hoped the shimmer in his eyes was sincerity. "Everything?"

"Yes. After."

"After what?"

"After this."

Jason wrapped his arms around her. He gently pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft, but the simple touch of his lips was so charged with passion, they seared her. They made her jaw melt and her knees buckle. Not able to stop herself, she moaned into his mouth.

Her heart humming, Dora kissed him back, deeper and harder, holding on to his head, his neck, his shoulders... anything so she wouldn't fall away and break his life-giving connection to her.

Jason's hand slid under her shirt, his fingers crawling softly up her back, leaving goosebumps and sweet tingling sensations along the way. He hooked a finger on the strap of her bra, but he held it there, tentative.

The tension on that strap was as taut as the tension between them. For some reason, she never noticed how constricting the garment was, how it stopped her from breathing. It had to come off and Jason knew it too.

Dora knew what he was waiting for, what he was asking for without words.

She broke the kiss to take a breath. Her nose caressing his, she nodded, whispering, "Yes."

Jason didn't hesitate. Before she even finished the word, he undid the clasp, grabbed her shirt, and pulled it off. His hands tangled in her hair as it tumbled back down, and he angled her face for another deep kiss.

But Dora had plans of her own. She pushed the jacket off his shoulders, grabbed his shirt collar and pulled it over his head.

Now they were both topless. They embraced again, pressing into each other, skin on skin. Hers was soft, supple, and smooth. His was hard, rough, and scarred. She didn't care, the contact was hot and electrifying. It was like she could feel his heart beating through their touch, sending sparkling jolts of his passion into her.

Their lips mashed together again as he walked her back into a table, like a dancer being led by her partner. She clambered backwards on top of it and wrapped her legs around his hips. He pressed himself onto her—she pressed back, grinding sensuously. She could feel through the fabric how ready he was. She was too.

This time, nothing was going to stop them.

Notes

FINALLY, right?

I kinda don't want to apologize for making it take this long, cuz the longer it takes for a ship to sail, the sweeter it feels when it finally does. Now the question is... will Dora and Jason's ship sink?

Seriously, the story isn't over. Far from it. Now that Dora and Jason are together, I'm going start throwing things at them that will test their relationship. Will they still be together by the end of the story? You'll have to come back and keep reading to see. I think we're two-thirds through the story here.

Last note, the title of this chapter references "Death Becomes Him" by Whitechapel, another song I love. It's a play on 'Death Becomes Her', a deliciously creepy movie about cheating death and coming back to life, and how it seems cool and sexy at first, but perhaps not a great idea in the end.

Song Reference: "Death Becomes Him" by Whitechapel

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