Chapter 3

"You know my father. You, of all people, know how overbearing he can be."

Jason grit his teeth. Yes, he did. Too well. He didn't like where this conversation was going. "Then you know if he finds out, he'll kill us both."

Helena smiled. "Don't be silly, Jason. You know Batman doesn't kill people."

Ow.

That hit a sore nerve.

He was being sarcastic, and so was Helena, but that phrase hit differently. He suddenly lost his appetite for banter.

His chest felt tight. He needed to eject from this conversation.

He walked to the bedroom door.

"You okay?" Helena asked, looking concerned.

"I'm fine." He drummed anxiously on the frame. It was his fault, not hers. He walked himself into that conversational corner.

Helena got up and went over to him, grabbing his arm.

Her soft touch sent shivers throughout his body. "Hey, I'm sorry. I know you didn't expect your kid sister to crash your apartment."

Jason grimaced. Wow. The vise got tighter.

He looked at her face, seeing how expectant she was. He pulled his arm away, trying not to seem too uncomfortable. He huffed out a chuckle, trying to appear nonchalant. "You're not my sister, Helena."

Helena took a playful stance, trying to lighten the mood. "We grew up in the same house, raised by the same man. As far as I'm concerned, we're siblings."

Now Jason's temper was bubbling. He tried to hide his unease. And failed.

"As far as I'm concerned, it wasn't a house. It was a compound," he blurted. "And Bruce didn't raise me; he trained me. I was there for four years, barely—not a childhood like you. He wasn't my father. He was my mentor."

"And what does that make Dick and Damian? Fellow students at Wayne Academy?" Helena's voice sounded sincere. "We weren't classmates—we were family, Jason. We are family."

"Helena, Bruce adopted Dick. You and Damian are his actual children. He never adopted me."

"That's because you ran off before they could file the adoption papers! My father fostered you! You were his ward! You're as much his kid as I am."

"Stop it!" Jason barked and shook her off.

Helena flinched and stepped away. "Hey!"

Jason's heart stopped beating until he was sure he hadn't hurt her.

He really didn't want to hash up this old argument again. Taking a breath, he said, gently as he could, "I'm sorry. Don't take it the wrong way."

Helena looked frustrated. "I know what this is. You have to lump me in with your issues about my father. If you refuse to call him father, you can't call me sister. That's it, right?"

It's more complicated than that, he wanted to say, but bit it back and took a deep breath. He didn't know whether he was hurt or relieved that Helena didn't get it. "Forget I ever said anything. I'm sorry. This is my bullshit to deal with. I didn't have to bring it up."

His heart thumped.

But he hadn't brought it up; she had. He did not want to tell Helena why he hated this topic. Jason just wanted the conversation to end.

He finally turned away from her and walked into the kitchen.

Helena followed him.

He opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey. Someone's reflection appeared in the glass, but it wasn't Helena.

It was Roy.

With a grunt, Jason put the bottle of alcohol aside. He grabbed a moka pot, filled it with water, and started rummaging through his cabinets for coffee beans. He wasn't going back to sleep after all this. Might as well start the day.

Helena could tell what he was doing. She manifested a jar of already ground-up coffee beans. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, taking the jar. As frustrated as he was, he was grateful she had restocked the groceries.

"You're not, and that's okay." Helena hugged his arm, putting her head on his shoulder.

Jason fought the urge to pull away.

"I'm sorry I brought up my father," she said.

He fought harder not to wrap his arms entirely around her. "You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault."

"I know it's not my fault. I know my father can be an arrogant dick, and..." She grunted in frustration. "I'm not apologizing for him. I'm just saying I'm sorry in the other sense… That I'm, you know, full of sorrow? I'm sad that you're sad."

Then Jason recalled why he and Roy started the Outlaws. They had both wanted to be alone, but it wasn't healthy to isolate themselves. They needed support. They needed accountability. They needed friends. They needed a tether to something bigger than themselves, so they wouldn't lose their minds and hearts to the darkness again.

Jason hadn't always suffered from post-traumatic stress, but he always had anger issues, thanks to how he grew up.

Before the Outlaws, Helena was the only thing that kept him tethered to the ground before his death.

He did all this thinking while setting up the coffee pot and putting it on the hot plate. He breathed heavily. "All right, you can stay."

He braced himself, and Helena's arms wrapped around his neck. She pulled him down into a tight hug. "Thank you."

Her scent.

She had been riding around on a motorcycle all night. Jason could tell it was the truth.

But through the smell of sweat, leather, and motor oil was a distinct note of lavender. It was in her hair.

He really liked the smell.

And he really liked the feel of her body against his.

Damn it. I thought I buried this.

He pushed her away, grimacing. "Okay, that's enough."

Helena was smiling up at him. "Never been a hugger. Just like old times back at the manor. We were kinda sorta roomies then. This shouldn't be too bad."

Jason scoffed. "You and your mom practically had your own fucking wing. I hardly ever saw you."

"That's because you were always with my father. And when you weren't, you were in the garage, avoiding my father."

Jason huffed. "Point is we have significantly less individual space here."

"So? We got along pretty well whenever we were stuck together. Okay, sure, don't call me your sister, but you can at least admit I was your best friend, right? We were close in high school before—" Her eyes flickered to the J-shaped scar on his cheek. "Anyway, admit it. I was your best friend."

"Sure," he relented with a sigh. "You were my best friend, Helena."

Helena squeaked in delight, grabbing two mugs from the dish rack.

Jason drew back and leaned against the counter, watching her grab milk from his fridge. Because you were my only friend.

Notes

I hope this exchange will help you better understand my versions of Jason and Helena. They're not quite any version of any canon, but I like to reference the mainstream Batman comics from the late-90s (No Man's Land era) to now. I know this scene is very dialogue-heavy, but that's my jam. I studied film in college, so I love characters verbally sparring.

For Jason's visual design, I'm mashing together a lot. Although Dexter Soy's is my favorite design, I'm taking a bit from every iteration I've seen, especially those that give him a facial scar from his ordeal with the Joker. I put the scar across his eye and forehead in my other fanfic, One Bad Day. In this one, he's got a scar on his cheek, such as in Arkham Knight, Gotham Knights, and Red Hood: Outlaws on Webtoon.

And sorry, sue me, but I'm not a fan of some designs' that give him a lock of white hair. I like Jason with all-black hair.