Chapter Two

My phone is ringing. Why the fuck is my phone ringing again? I'm in the middle of the grocery store, getting all sorts of food and everyone's staring because my phone's ringing and I don't want to get it out because AMAZO's leg is still in my bag.

Why the fuck is my phone ringing?!

At least Tim's getting the staples (rice, beans, etc.), and so is far away - far enough that, even as I sigh and kneel, he can't see the contents of my bag.

And this fucking phone won't stop ringing - I'm trying my best here.

"What?"

"Oh, hello, Annie!"

Fuck you, Luthor. I went through all that trouble and it's just Luthor.

I move to hang up, but he calls out, "Don't hang up, just yet. I have something to say I just know you'll want to hear."

And isn't that cryptic and threatening. I roll my eyes but bring the phone back to my ear.

"You have five seconds before I stop listening. Talk."

"I'm hearing about all this interesting news from Gotham. Just last month there was an earthquake - we felt it here in Metropolis, you know? And then there's this news that the Joker's gotten out and was found in what looks to be your building. So, I thought I'd check in with you. Are you alright?"

Right. The earthquake I caused. When I was with Red. And Joker. Fuck.

"I'm fine. Why are you really calling me? You have two seconds left."

"I can't call just to check in?"

"No." No, he can't. Because he's a psychopath and he paid Falcone to kill mom and -

I'm not letting him know anything about what I know.

He sighs, and I swear if I saw him, I'd think he was leaning back in a swivel chair, or something.

"I wanted to invite you to-"

"No thanks."

Because fuck no. I don't need an invitation to another one of his-

"It's a small get together for charity. It'll be held at LexCorp's downtown office in Metropolis. Next week. Saturday. Eight o'clock. You're name's on the list whether or not you show up. It'll be a good opportunity for you, now that you've graduated."

Damn. He's not wrong. I desperately need to network. But I still hate his guts.

"I'll think about it."

I hang up. Because I'm not dealing with this shit. Not right now.

"Who was that?"

Right. Tim - Robin - whatever - is here, now.

"A fucking psychopath."

"So . . . your boyfriend?"

"What?" Where did that come from?

"You know - Red Hood - psychopath - it fits." He shrugs after weighing the two and giving me a slightly judgemental side eye.

"Whatever. It wasn't Red, Red's not that much of a psychopath, and we're not dating. Anyway, it was another psychopath."

"You know another psychopath? How?"

I glance at him - and . . . "Is that ham?"

"Huh, oh, yeah, I thought - hey! Don't change the subject!"

Damnit. "I don't want ham. It makes my stomach upset. I need something else. And if we're getting something from the cold cuts section, we should probably get bread too."

As I head to that isle, he just hangs back and stares at me.

"What?"

"You - why do you have that stuff?"

I look down at my basket, and - right. I have four jars of pickles (I don't even know why, because I fucking hate pickles, but it seemed like a good idea when I was taking it off the shelf, I mean it was on sale so . . .), cheese, and brownies. A whole three boxes of premade brownies. And I don't know how to answer the teen, so I shrug, drop my stuff into the cart and walk away.

"Hey! Don't think we're done talking!"

And fuck. He just won't shut up, will he?

"I don't know. I just wanted it."

"Who likes pickles that much?"

"I hate pickles."

The poor kid looks so confused - you and me both, buddy.

He doesn't say anything at the cold cuts section, or the bread. It's only when we get to the checkout that he opens his dumb mouth again.

"Why would you get pickles if you hate them?"

The checkout person, an elderly woman, hears him and gives me a judgemental side eye too. Well, no one asked you.

"That'll be $87.55. Will it be cash or credit?"

"Don't look at me," Robin says, and she gives him an even more judgemental eye than she gave me.

I roll my eyes at him but hold up my credit card.

I don't stick around for much longer after that and then - fuck. I forgot clothes. But I'm so hungry that -

Nope.

"Hey!"

Can't go any further. I was running on fumes before because of Mrs. Janet, and now, I'm done. I collapse into Tim's arms and barely hear him begin to panic before all I know is darkness.

I wake up again in a completely unfamiliar place. It's dark and somewhat damp. Almost like a cave. And there's someone standing right over me with a mask and a bunch of other people just behind -

"Where the fuck am I."

I try to sit up, only to be pushed right back down by Tim - Robin - whatever.

"Slow down, you fainted in the middle of the street."

Yeah, I figured - but my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of engines before I can say anything to wonder boy and - why the fuck is Red following Batman into this cave and -

Fuck. This isn't just any old cave, is it?

"Get your fucking hands off her."

And that would be Red.

"Jason, get back here. We weren't finished talking."

That's Batman, and he's following Red like he's about to tackle him to the ground. Only maybe I shouldn't be so worried for Red since he just grabbed Tim by the collar of his shirt and looks set to murder him.

"Hey, chill out Red, I'm fine." With no one to stop me, I sit up without a problem, even as my stomach grumbles, and my body wants nothing more than to sleep for ten hours straight. And food.

"And what do you think you were doing?"

Oh hell no. He does not get to lecture me.

"I don't know what your problem is, but I was just trying to get all my ducks in a row, thank you very much. No need to chew Tim out when all he was doing was making sure I didn't fall on my face - thanks for that, by the way."

He doesn't look pleased, though he does flinch when I use his name and actually lets go of the poor teen.

"Yeah, no problem."

Tim looks like he wants to get out of here fast, though.

"You should rest here tonight."

Batman's talking to me - tell me this isn't my life.

"Why the hell should she?"

Oh? Red coming to my rescue again? Only it's Tim that answers, as if I don't even get a say.

"Her house is under investigation, because the Joker was found there. And let's face it, your little hideout is no safe house, it's barely a headquarters."

Red seems pissed as all hell, but he can't argue - his place is a dump.

"I'm not leaving without her, Bruce."

Wow - that's . . . almost sweet of him.

"You can stay here too, you know."

Red scoffs just as my stomach growls again. Because, it's been a solid day since I've eaten anything, not that I'm counting. And because I upchucked anything I might have eaten and because I dropped a building on Falcone.

And now, this butler-like person I vaguely remember seeing from the one Halloween trip I took to Wayne Manor what feels like a lifetime ago is in front of me with a cup of what smells like mint tea and table water crackers.

"Thanks."

"So . . ." great, Dick wants to talk now, "How long have you known him?"

"It's none of your damn business."

Oh, Red, you really need to chill like -

"You -"

"He's been around for a while." Because Dick doesn't get to rag on Red about this. "But he's right. It's really none of your business."

"But you - what did you mean you did the rest at Falcone's?"

Right. I did say that before I left Red's place. But, I already had this conversation with Tim earlier.

"I already told you, she was making shit up."

Huh. Red's taking the credit again.

I try not to roll my eyes and instead try to focus on the table water crackers and tea.

The argument seems to be gaining volume even as I much and sip, until finally Red seems to explode.

"We've been over this. For a couple of hours already. We're done."

The cave is silent for a hot second, before Jason looks to me and holds his hand out, "You coming with me?"

Before I can respond, Batman interrupts, "Jason, I - Just please . . . stay the night. We can talk about this in the morning. And this way, she can sleep somewhere comfortable."

That's never a good idea, but fine.

"Master Jason, would your old room suffice?"

Jason seems to deflate at the butler's words, even as he steps closer to me.

"Yeah, sure that sounds fine Alfred."

"Just -"

"Beat it, replacement."

I try not to roll my eyes at that. And then - "What are you doing?"

"Leaving this damn helmet here in the cave. It gets stuffy as hell. Want a tour?"

And there's his face again. The back-from-the-dead face of the original Annie's crush. And I suppose mine too. . .

"Sure, but I need to eat some more. Do you think we can get some more of these crackers and tea?"

He seems to roll his eyes a bit, but he's got a smile tugging on his lips - so that has to be a good sign.

We don't talk about the elephant in the room - mainly his death. Even though I get the feeling that he really needs to talk about it. We don't talk about it when we're in the kitchen of Wayne manor with the butler - and holy Lord I'm in the kitchen of Wayne manor, this is surreal - and we don't talk about it when he gives me a little tour (like minimal, he showed me the bathroom and his room and let me take a shower), and we don't talk about it when he comes back from finding an outfit for me to wear - "It's Dickhead's girlfriends'. He said she wouldn't mind."

It's honestly kind of stressful. But I don't want to be the one to bring up his supposed death.

Even if the curiosity is killing me.

So I leave the conversation be, and we don't really talk much that night - even as he tugs me to his chest and kisses my shoulder before he rests his chin above my head.

The sun doesn't wake me up like it normally does. It's the arm over my waist and the warmth at my back - and who the fuck is this?

Whoever it is is keeping me tucked under their chin and I'm hungry. This is not going to work. I need food.

This arm is heavy as no one would believe and the more I try to move it, the more it tenses and keeps me caged.

Who the fuck is even - oh.

Right.

This is Red's - Jason's - room - in the manor - mansion - owned by his Adoptive father. The Batman.

"Go back to sleep." He's muttering in my ear.

But no. I slept fine and more than enough and now I'm done. I need to eat. "I'm hungry."

That seems to get him moving, finally.

It's a little awkward, as I grab the clothes I've probably been wearing for three days straight, now that I think about it - only for him, in his shirtless glory to snatch it away.

"We can wash it later, you can wear something else."

He's back within ten minutes with a different set of clothes.

"We're leaving after breakfast, if that's okay."

He's hesitant, I can tell. Almost as if he doesn't want to leave."

"If that's what you want," I answer, but I can tell that didn't address whatever the hell he's worried about.

"I mean I can understand if you want to join the bat and stay in this place, I would too, if I didn't have my beef with -"

"I don't understand."

I interrupt because what the hell is he going on about?"

"If you want to stay, you can."

I'm trying to figure out what he's thinking, but it's not easy.

"I want to go back to my apartment, but the police have it under investigation. I had no say in coming here."

He doesn't say anything for a hot second, seeming to think about my words before turning and saying, "Let's go eat and then we can leave this place."

Breakfast is . . . interesting.

Tim doesn't look like he slept a wink and has a large mug of steaming black coffee that he keeps filled to the brim as he sips away and flips through a stack of papers, books, and notepads.

He doesn't even look up, muttering to himself the whole while, when Jason grabs a piece of toast and accepts a plate of eggs and bacon from Alfred.

And while all of it smells appetizing, I'm just given a piece of toast and more tea - did they mention anything about my up chucking from yesterday?

I can't wait to fucking get out of here. I need more food than just toast.

The calm in the kitchen is interrupted, though.

"Morning Tim."

And there is the original boy wonder stumbling into the kitchen shirtless with a yawn and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Morning Dickhead."

Jason seems particularly upset right now.

Either way, Dick seems to stop for a second and take a good look around at the room.

"Oh - hey, Jason. Annie."

In the awkward silence that follows, I chomp on the rest of my toast, grab another slice and get up.

"Well, this has been fun, but it's time for us to go. Lots to do - people to see. Come on, Jason."

That seems to get Tim to look up from his papers in surprise for the first time this morning - just in time for me to grab Jason's arm and drag him out of the kitchen.

We don't stop when we pass Mr. Wayne in the hall, even though he does, and I can feel his stare at our backs. We don't stop when we get to the motorcycle. I just get on, strap the helmet on and sit on the bike while Jason seems to have some kind of mental epiphany.

"Tim said your apartment was under investigation, right?"

"Yeah."

"And to be clear - you don't want to stay?"

"No."

His face seems to brighten a little and his lips twitch into almost-a-smile. Then he grabs his own helmet and he's Red Hood again - the crime Lord.

The hideout is a dump, but the first time I was here I wasn't exactly given a tour given that I'd just woken up from a fever (I'm feeling fantastic now, by the way.) It's better than I thought it was. It doesn't have a bathroom in the conventional sense - because there's no place to bathe - but there is a toilet. It's just not accessible from the inside of his tiny studio-like space.

I'd been in such a hurry the day before I'd missed it.

"So yeah, this is my -"

"Lair. It's your lair. Don't you dare call it home."

He snorts at that.

"Sure. Whatever. So, what are you planning to do now?"

"I need food. And - fuck." I forgot the food I bought at the store, didn't I?

"What?"

"Well, my stopping by the Grocery Store yesterday is pointless because I forgot it at your dad's place."

"I can just get Chinese takeout if you want."

I try not to make a face at that - because I can't stand Chinese takeout - but I don't think I succeed.

"What?"

"I just . . . if you're getting takeout can't it be something like -" I struggle to think of something appetizing that also doesn't make my stomach want to revolt at the thought of it - what is wrong with me? - "I don't know a sandwich from a bodega?"

He huffs out a laugh.

"Sure. But you do -"

I interrupt, because fuck. I didn't just forget the food at the manor. I forgot my backpack with the piece of Amazo's leg and my laptop and -ugh.

"We have to go back."

His face is blank.

"I can't - I - I forgot my backpack with my laptop and the intel and fuck."

I think I'm having trouble breathing? Why is everything getting difficult to focus on?

"I'll grab it, and the food. Just. Calm down."

Calm down?!

I sit on the couch as he grabs the helmet and heads back out, giving me a somewhat concerned glance before he's gone.

And. . . and I can't. I need air.

I leave ten minutes after he does.

I don't know where I'm going at first. I just wander the city a bit, looking into the shop windows and grab a newspaper off the sidewalk - it looks like the hiring section.

Mostly there are bartending and waitressing positions, though I do see a position as an office assistant at Wayne Enterprises.

I crumple of the sheet of paper and toss it because what kind of references can I put there? I killed my last boss, Black Mask the other guy I was working for is in prison, and both of them were Mob Bosses?

Let's face it - Wayne Enterprises is run by The Bat. And I'm sick and tired of him butting into my life.

My stomach growls in protest when I pass by a local cafe without stopping, and I somehow I find myself in front of the hospital again.

"Oh, Ms. Simon!" Oh fantastic. The nurse - nurse Clarice, her name tag tells me - remembers me.

"Hi."

"Are you here to see Ms. Smith?"

Ms. Smith? No one calls Mrs. Janet 'Ms. Smith.' And this nurse's face does not look very optimistic.

"Yeah." Not that I set out intending to see her, but while I'm here . . .

The nurse's face is mostly blank, but her brows do furrow a bit.

Mrs. Janet's awake, but looking even worse than she did before, and something about it doesn't sit right.

"Hey."

She smiles when she sees me, and though her voice cracks a bit, I still understand what she's saying.

"Annie!"

"Hey," I repeat. Like an idiot.

"Come here!" Her smile is big, but it looks as if she's in a lot of pain, and her body is riddled with bruises I didn't notice last time.

"How are you feeling?" I ask pulling the chair by the window closer to her bed.

She grimaces as she attempts to shift in her bed, "Could you move the pillows dear - behind my back?"

"What? Oh, sure."

As I'm moving the pillows, I notice even more bruises and the board on her wall detailing information about her condition, how they don't have plans of moving her out anytime soon, because she's got multiple internal injuries and a couple of surgeries scheduled for the next two weeks.

I also notice physical therapy there as well, because apparently she has a back injury that may have caused permanent damage.

"Annie," she interrupts my thoughts with her words, and I look back to her, "I meant to speak to you earlier, but you left so quickly."

"What is it?"

"I think I'm going to tell them I don't want treatment."

Her words are quiet, I almost think I mishear them.

"What?"

"I think it's time. I've lived a long life. And I'm in so much pain."

She sounds like she's about to cry.

"No," She looks up at me, mildly shocked, and I continue, trying to think of something to change her mind, "You'll be okay. I'll take care of you, you - you can't leave me yet."

She stares at me for a moment, then her lips twitch a bit.

"It's just a thought," she says. And then she closes her eyes and before I can say anything else, she's asleep, and all I'm left with are snores.

I don't leave her that night, getting food at the hospital cafeteria and sleeping in the seat next to her bed.

He's in the hideout when I return at noon the next day - just sitting on his futon bed thing, a bottle of beer in his hands, and looking like he hasn't slept a wink.

"I needed some air, and then I ended up at the hospital and -"

"Are you okay?" He's jumped off the couch so quickly and is in front of me in two steps, hands on my shoulders and staring at me, trying to make sure I'm okay.

"What? No yeah, I'm fine. I was just visiting Mrs. Janet."

He seems to relax, and sighs, holding me at arms' length before his lips twitch and he says, "By the way, I ate your sandwich."

I roll my eyes, walking past him and making my way to his tiny refrigerator - where my shopping and backpack are.

"You got it for me."

"Yeah. Tim didn't even seem to know what was in there - it was still in the car collecting dust. Have you been able to get anything off it yet."

"Hm? No." I'm barely paying attention as I open it up and pull the leg out.

"Here, I got it."

And before I know it, he's hooking it up to his many many computers.

"You going to let me help or -"

He chuckles. "Let me do my job."

"Your job? I thought you were a mobster."

"I was not a mobster, I was like low key -"

"You put a bunch of heads in a duffel bag to scare Black Mask's associates. You were a mobster."

He lifts his eyebrows at me. "Do you want help or not?"

This - I can't - there's a smile on my face I'm trying to keep stuck as a frown, but it's not working.

"Type away. Show me what you got."

At some point, while he's digging through lines and lines of code and turning the leg this and that way, analyzing the hardware, I fall asleep.

The phones ringing again, and I'm this close to smashing it with the tremors of doom. But I don't. Whatever I'm on is lumpy as fuck, and I have the strange feeling that breaking my phone would be smarter than staying on this futon.

So I answer the fucking phone.

"You've reached Annie Simon. How may I direct your call?"

"Uh - that - this is Police Officer Sanchez with the GCPD. I'm calling about your apartment and to see if we can schedule an interview at the precinct."

"Who is it?" Jason's here, I notice, right behind and really way too handsy, I decide as I brush his arms away and sit up, grabbing some clothes and getting up out of bed.

"Uh yeah, sure. When's good for you?"

Jason's trying to grab the phone without getting up out of bed, and it's not going well for him.

"How's ten o'clock?"

I glance at the time on my phone - eight fifty.

Ick. That means I have to leave really soon. Because there's no way I can leave the hideout like this. Damn.

"Yeah, that's okay. I can do that."

"Wonderful! We'll see you then."

"Yup, okay bye."

"Who was it?"

"The GCPD. They want to talk."

"Will you need me to break you out?"

I laugh. Because I can't tell if he's serious or not. And because I don't know if I'll need it.