"You do realize he could kill you?" Tim said, shielding his eyes as he stepped out of the comparatively dim WE building.
"Sure." Stephanie waved him off hoping it came off as nonchalant as she'd meant it to. "You don't criticize my suicidal projects and I won't criticize yours."
"Just checking." He looked at his watch before nodding. "I have half an hour, what did you need my help with?"
"The one thing only you, oh great and knowledgeable Tim Drake can be trusted with." She said, guiding him down cluttered streets surrounding the business hub of Gotham.
"And what, I this instance, am I so knowledgeable about?" He yawned. "I should get coffee while I'm out."
"Exactly." She raised a finger, bringing it up to his face. "How many cups of coffee do you drink a day?"
"I thought we weren't criticizing suicidal habits today." He rolled his eyes.
"I said, projects, and I'm not criticizing you." She stopped in front of the highest rated coffee shop in Gotham, waving her arms dramatically at the building. "I needed you specifically for your unmatched coffee expertise."
"You want my advice about getting coffee?" Tim arched one sharp eyebrow.
"I'm pretty sure if I show up tonight with my cheap filter coffee he'll break out of Arkham just to strangle me to death." She joked, but she really wouldn't have put it past Jason to do just that if just asking him to eat his favorite food got the guy violent.
"Did you stop to think that showing up with anything would have the same effect?" Tim dug around in his blazer pockets. Stephanie groaned in anticipation of another lecture, but he carried on as though he hadn't heard her. "If you're not going to stop doing this, maybe do it a way that doesn't antagonize him."
"What do you think the food is for?" Stephanie asked. "I have thought this through Tim." Well, she'd tried thinking it through, then thinking about it almost made her deicide not to visit again.
"With bad information." Tim paid for the coffee Stephanie hadn't even noticed him order and handed her one of the steaming cups. "'Hey Jason, lets eat some ice-cream and talk about how messed up you are'" He spoke in a high pitched voice that was clearly meant to be an imitation of her.
"What's so wrong with that? It's good to talk your problems out." She was tempted to toss her coffee at him, but a second of thought was all it took for her to realize how petty that would have been.
"It's patronizing." Tim watched her over the rim of his cup like he knew exactly what she was thinking and that she was welcome to try. "Nobody likes a condescending know-it-all, and implying he needs your charity just makes it worse."
"You know all about condescending know-it-all, don't you?" Steph mumbled. She hated when he did that, turned on his big brain and made her feel like she had no idea what she was doing. Most off all, she hated that he was right.
"I know a lot about a lot of things." He smirked.
"And I know I hate you." She took as big a sip of her hot coffee as she dared.
"Happy to help Steph." He checked his watch again. "I have to go, good luck." He waved over his shoulder and disappeared into the throngs of people on his way back to his big important board meeting or whatever he did at WE.
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Jason hated that Arkham allowed patients to leave there cells for extended periods of time. Did they not see how many security risks they created every time they did that? The swishing of doors opening every day was like nails on a chalkboard to his ear.
It didn't help that they dragged him to those common areas everyday as well. After the first time, he'd tried resisting, fighting the guards that came for him every day, but he soon realized that it just wasn't worth it. The 'psychiatrists' thought it was unhealthy for him stay on his own all day.
Like it wasn't worse being stuck in a room full of people who would kill him if given half the chance.
The guards slapped a pair of cuffs on him and herded him into that pastel room. He wished he could have kept his head down, ignored everyone else there, but he'd been too well trained for that. Like everyday, he made note of everyone's positions.
Dent and Nygma were playing cards at a little table while Quinn and Isley watched from one on the uncomfortable sofas. There were other people milling about, but those who could have posed a threat were so drugged they could barely move. Jason repressed a shudder when he walked past one of them.
The only reason Jason went along with most of the asylum's 'treatment' plans was so he didn't end up like them.
To a casual viewer he was completely at ease in the sturdy plastic chair, his eyes locked on the small TV hanging out of reach, playing cartoons. They didn't let the inmates watch the news anymore after the one too many escapes. There weren't even any calendars in sight thanks to Calendar Man, not that it mattered when Jason knew the guy had a whole stash in his room.
He sat there and watched the room, coming up with a dozen plans should any of them approach him. He was sure Quinn at least knew about his connection to Batman and there was no telling how many people she would have blabbed to, unless Joker had told her not to. The psycho liked to keep his games with Batman apart from the other crazies.
There was a clock on the far wall, digital thank god, that was ticking away the seconds until Jason could go back to the solitude of his cell.
Damn Bruce for keeping him locked up there. He had to fight to keep his muscles relaxed when Maxi Zeus began moving towards him. Jason watched the man's approach in the small reflective strip on the TV. The guy didn't say anything to him though, just plopped down in the next seat over and fixed his eyes on the cartoon as well.
The Disney version of Hercules was on. In another time Jason could have found it funny, how despite all their efforts, they couldn't have built the place around the obsessions of all those it housed. Right then he was too busy watching the man besides him, close enough to touch, for any sign that he might need to defend himself soon.
The Greek hero on the screen swam through a pool of shrieking souls while he literally wasted away. Jason felt worms crawling under his skin, slithering around his body until they could grow wings and legs crawl though his… He abruptly turned his mind away from those thoughts, resting his elbow on the sides of the chair and propping his head on his palm to make turning his head from the screen look more natural.
Maxi Zeus was so medicated all he could do was stare blankly at the watered down version of the legends he'd driven himself crazy over. Jason could almost imagine that being him in a few years. Realistically it wouldn't take long for the shrinks to get frustrated with his lack of progress and drug him into oblivion too.
Hours passed and Jason's anxiety mounted, he watched the clock some more, the movie ended and still Max Zeus stayed besides him. Quinn's shrill laughter ran through the room, accompanied by Isleys softer chuckle and slowly, so slowly he didn't even realize it at first, tension crept into Jason's muscles.
By the time he was finally taken back to his cell, all he could do was sink onto his narrow bed, heedless of the corners digging into his sides.
A tray was plopped down on the table next to him, the food had the powdery taste that everything they gave him had since they'd been told he'd hadn't been taking the medication himself. Most of the food went discreetly down the drain.
Jason laid back on his bed, his mind wondering aimlessly until he began to think that maybe he could sleep for a few minutes. Next thing he knew, there was a chipper voice chattering away down the hall.
His anxiety gave way to anger as the cell door slid open. He did what only one of his teachers had ever suggested and pretended the source of that anger didn't exist.
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"Okay, so I wasn't gonna bring anything tonight, but last time I did tell you I'd bring coffee and just in case you were actually looking forward to it, I brought the coffee anyway." She put the holder on his little desk, six steaming cups filling the cell with the rich smell. "I didn't know what you'd like so I brought one from every end of the coffee spectrum, sweet, bland, regular, creamy, extra creamy, and rocket fuel." She listed off her offerings proudly.
Jason gave no indication that he'd heard her, laying with his arms folded behind his head, eyes closed like he was sleeping.
"I promise this is the last time I'll try and make you eat though, I just really thought you'd like it." Stephanie took his stool back to her corner and waited a few seconds for a response. The cell remained quiet but for the nervous tapping of her boot.
"You can't fall asleep that fast Jason." She huffed, frowning at the man, when he didn't move she got up and stalked as near to him as she dared, getting a closer look at his face. He really looked like he was sleeping, but so could she if she needed to. "I'm gonna search the room for your hair dye if you don't stop me."
He still didn't move, and she looked around the cell for anywhere he could have hidden it, but the only place that would have provided some coverage was under his bed, and she wasn't quite suicidal enough to get that close.
Settling back on the stool she watched for him so mess up and give his wakefulness away so she could call him out on it. She wanted to say something to him about giving up the only chance at sane conversation as he'd get, but stopped herself when she remembered Tim's words on the subject.
"Hey, you wanna hear a funny story?" She asked instead, pausing for a response she wouldn't get. "Okay, so I had this paper to write, but whenever I take time off for school work the whole Batbrood" Jason's mouth twitched a tiny bit at the word, "gives me this look like 'You know you're not really cut out for this life' and I hate that."
"So I bring the stuff out with me on patrol, cause I figured I could get it done while I was staking something out, but it was it was so busy I didn't think I'd get a chance to do it. Eventually I just gave up and told them I had to go home. And Batman starts with this lecture about not letting my personal life get in the way of the nightlife; I bet you know the one." She took the sweet coffee from his desk and scooted back to her corner.
"And I told him that not everybody could get away with focusing only on the nightlife and Robin got all upset, talking about all the other things his father does for the city. And he starts listing off all the improvement projects, and Red Robin stage whispers that I should be taking notes, you know how sarcastic he is, but I took notes anyway." She drank off half the coffee in one go before she kept talking.
"And I handed in the notes just like that. When I got them back I gave them to Robin and he actually sent a complaint letter to the college for their 'incompetent' grading system because it got a B when anything he had an input on just had to get an A." She chuckled. "The look in his face when Batman, the other Batman, can we just call him Nightwing, had to explain to him why he couldn't send the letter, it's something you have to have seen to believe."
"I still hate that class though." She scowled into her coffee. "What about you, did you have any classes you liked in school? Hood?" She got out the telescopic staff she hardly ever used and poked his cheek. He sleepily batter the weapon away and shot her a tired glare.
"Rude." He huffed, tucking his head under his pillow.
"I'm rude? You can't just fall asleep in the middle of a conversation!" She poked him again, in his ribs this time, his hand shot out to grab the staff and tug it out of her grip, almost pulling her off balance before tossing the weapon across the cell.
"I bet you were never even in school, and when you were you just slept though all your classes." She crossed her arms and did her best impression of Barbara's glare. "Asshole."
He didn't reply, back to pretending to be asleep.
"Fine." She got retrieved her staff and briefly considered poking him with it, very briefly. "Don't think I'm not coming back you big baby. I can be childish too."
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Jason didn't need to think about it too hard to come to the conclusion that she'd taken his silence as a challenge. She showed up every few nights, dragging the stool she'd claimed as hers, since she thought he never used it, to the corner and droning on about absolutely nothing.
He didn't speak to her once, didn't even look at her, he just closed his eyes and tried to pretend she wasn't there at all. Her stories on the other hand became more and more outlandish, one of them even featuring a fight in which she swore she could have taken Superboy out.
It only took a few visits to realize that his plan had backfired, but Jason Todd was nothing if not determined, and he stuck it out anyway.
After a month, he really did fall asleep during many of her visits, her voice drowning out the constant rushing in his ears and allowing his brain to shut down enough to get a few consecutive hours of sleep. He wouldn't go so far as to say he liked having her there, in fact every time she stepped into his cell he had to bite down on the urge to smother her with his pillow, but that rage ebbed away as the minutes passed by and he was only annoyed when they ended.
"Okay." Batgirl huffed, dumping something heavy on the ground next to her when she took the stool. "I'm going to sit here and do my homework while you lay there and 'sleep', you'd better not bug me."
He thought she was just trying to bait him into a response with her bad attempt at reverse psychology, but the only sounds from her that night were her frustrated mumbling and pencil scraping on paper.
Curios, he lifted his pillow just enough that he could watch her and make sure she wasn't distracting him so she could ransack his cell like she'd almost done when he'd ignored her the first time. She didn't notice, her narrowed eyes glued to the stacks of papers on her lap, cursing softly when they slipped of the uneven surface and clattered to the floor.
He glanced up at the camera, wondering what the people monitoring it thought when they saw Batgirl sitting quietly doing homework. Bruce would have blown a fuse if Jason had ever tried the same in the Robin get up. It ruined the mystique of Batman image, when he and or any of his allies were seen doing mundane, everyday things like that.
Maybe it was different for the Batgirls though, being allies but not ultimately under Batman's control. Still, it wasn't something he could imagine Barbara doing, not that he'd ever claimed to know her very well.
He shifted his pillow under his head and laid staring at his ceiling for the rest of that visit, listening to the near silence. It was familiar, the feint scent of paper and sound of scribbling. Bitter nostalgia washed over him as he folded his arms behind his head.
Her eyes caught the movement, but she didn't comment on it, only shooting a few glances at him while she continued on with her homework.
She was still quiet up until she packed her books away and brushed her pencil shavings off her lap.
"I had another story to tell you tonight, but I had to finish that was already overdue and my professor is a slave driver, and now I forgot the story. Hey, maybe you can tell me one." She leaned forward, resting her head in her hands as though she really expected him to say something. "It can even be the putting heads in a bag one."
Telling her to leave again would have been pointless, and he didn't have anything else to say to her, so he didn't.
"More quiet time then." She yawned. "I really shouldn't do my homework before patrol, there's nothing like dry reading to mess with your work ethic, but it's almost the end of the semester, so I have to take any chance I can get to finish up all this work. I have this school friend who never studies, at all, and her grades are still great."
She sighed. "I bet you're sick of hearing about my school life by now anyway, and I've gotta go before Oracle starts yelling my ear off." She swung her bag over her shoulder and waved at him. "Night Hood."
He waited until the door slid shut before he looked over at the little mess she'd made in the corner of his cell. When he got up to put the stool back in its place he noticed something sticking out from under the piece of furniture.
She'd left one of her books behind. Her voice retreated down the hall as he picked the battered notational copy of "Oliver Twist". He got a glimpse of her turning a corner from the window in his door, and looked back at the book.
Sitting on the bed, he considered tearing the pages out, leaving them in that corner for her to find or shredding them to pieces and letting the pieces away with the rest of the trash. His lights clicked off and he did neither. He tucked the book under his matters where no one would see it and sat back to watch the blinking light of the camera.
She'd be back to get it eventually anyway.