It's a quiet night, which is unusual for a city like Gotham, but it suits her purpose well. She doesn't want to fight with anyone. She just wants to talk with a particular someone.
It's not like she isn't well-versed in the art of holding conversations while knocking heads together- she is, but sometimes you just want a quiet night like this.
Quiet and cold.
Stephanie wraps her arms around herself and shivers.
Personally, she can do without the cold, but it's not like the weather gods were asking for her opinion when they decided on the weather forecast.
Even underneath the armor, she's feeling chilly.
"Didn't expect to see you here, Spoiler."
Stephanie whips around to see the Red Hood approaching. His posture is casual and he's not wearing the helmet. Even so, she can see the unspoken question behind the domino mask. A mask behind a mask… who even does that?
When he folds his arms and cracks his neck, she can see that he's feeling guarded. Maybe even a little defensive.
He's wondering what brought her here - not that she blames him.
This is his territory. It's not like any of them actually go out of their way to interact with him, which… now that she thinks about it, is actually pretty crappy.
Stephanie is well aware of the bad blood between him and the rest of the bats, but she's never been on bad terms with him.
Maybe that's because all of… that happened before her time. Maybe it's because what Jason did… she thinks that's something she can understand. Maybe not all the killing and… and all of that, but she knows what it feels like to be hurt, to be treated like… like your death doesn't matter.
Or to feel like that's the only moment when you did matter.
All she had wanted was to make a difference, but the truth is, few people have ever fucked up as royally as she did and it cost people their lives. A lot of people. Innocent people. People who hadn't asked for it. People who had done nothing wrong.
By some miracle, she hadn't died.
Not really.
It had been close, but Leslie Tomkins had saved her life and then she had helped her to fake her death. She'd done a damn good job of it too, though Stephanie is sure Bruce must have wondered. He must have done his own investigation. She knows him too well to think otherwise. Maybe he even found her, sequestered away in South Africa. It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest.
They don't call him the World's Greatest Detective for nothing.
Thinking about that for too long is only going to bring her more grief- she doesn't know which contradictory emotion is stronger- fury that he might have tracked her down in the first place or disappointment that he hadn't reached out to her if he had.
Her feelings regarding Bruce are… complicated. Back then, she had wanted him to acknowledge her, to appreciate her. For a time, while she nursed her wounds, she had wanted to hate him. Maybe she even had, for a little while.
But she can't hate him.
For better or for worse, he's still someone she looks up to in a way. She's in a much better place than she had been back then.
She has Barbara, who might literally be the coolest person Stephanie has ever met, Cassandra, the sister Stephanie never asked for but who she certainly isn't giving back, and her relationship with Tim.
Who does Jason have?
"Yeah, well," Stephanie says. "I brought you something." She reaches into her hip pouch and withdraws two slips of paper. She holds them up for him to see.
Jason cocks his head, raising an eyebrow. "And those are…?"
"Tickets," she says. She extends them towards him and the whole time her heart is racing. This is stupid. This is stupid. This is so, so stupid.
Stephanie could smack herself in the face for this.
She doesn't, but she could.
She's not afraid of him. Jason isn't a danger to her and he's not a monster, despite what some in the underworld are claiming, but they're the ones who have something to be afraid of.
Still, maybe she was stupid to come here thinking they could connect over something like this. What are they?
The failed Robins club or something?
That's a stupid name. She'll have to think of something better.
Oh well.
If there's one thing Stephanie isn't, it's a quitter. She's stubborn and she plans on using that to her advantage.
Jason doesn't take the tickets, still looking skeptical. Not that she can blame him. Still, it raises an uncomfortable question. When was the last time someone in the family offered him an olive branch of sorts? She knows they care, because she's seen it, but has anyone thought to let him know? She doubts it. They're a bit obstinate that way.
Stephanie clears her throat and clarifies, "To see the Lion King." She hopes it was the right choice. She definitely spent a good amount of time picking Alfred's brain before making her choice. Jason Todd liked classic literature, but he'd also had a soft spot for the Disney animated film.
"The Lion King," he says flatly. Like he can't quite believe what he's hearing. And, to be fair, Stephanie's not sure she can believe it either and she's the one who's talking. She hopes she guessed right- Alfred had told her Jason was something of a literature nerd, with an appreciation for the classics. It would have probably been cheaper to just find a nice, leatherbound copy of Oliver Twist or maybe Great Expectations in a thrift store somewhere, but never let it be said that Stephanie Brown doesn't go above and beyond.
So maybe Alfred had planted the idea in her head- he'd shared with her that before… everything, Jason had enjoyed going to the theater. He'd needed to take a moment to collect himself after that.
Jason is alive, but his death is still a shadow that hangs over this crooked family. It's… it's fucked up. It's not right, but it's not her place or anything to tell them how to grieve. She doesn't understand. She wasn't there when they lost him and, by the time she came around, Jason was a Robin costume, hanging like a shroud, and a cautionary tale for the ones who came after.
She's seen the memorial in the cave. She knows it destroyed them.
She's nervous now, wondering if this offering will go over well, wondering if she's absolutely crazy for this, and figuring that if he declines, at least Cassandra will go with her. The current Batgirl never passes up an opportunity to see a performance live- apparently, she and Bruce have been making a regular habit of it. It definitely fills her up with the warm and fuzzies and she's glad Cassandra is having more of a… a life outside of the whole costumed vigilante thing even if she isn't exactly a social butterfly.
But what about Jason?
According to Alfred, he had also gone to a few operas and plays accompanied by either Bruce or Alfred back… in those days.
She doesn't want her gift to be taken the wrong way and she's wondering if it will be.
If it will rip open a wound that's just barely scabbed over, remind him of a past that's too painful to think about and too out of reach to return to.
"Did he set you up to this?" Jason asks. He still hasn't made a move to take the ticket she's offering him.
Stephanie tips her head and cocks an eyebrow. "He didn't."
It's not that Bruce didn't care. It's just that he was unbearably clumsy in his attempts to act on it.
Jason crosses his arms. "So what is this? A pity thing? Because if it is, I'm not interested."
"I thought… maybe we could talk?" Time for her to reveal her ulterior motive. "It's been a rough week and I just… I thought maybe you could relate." She's starting to feel awkward, standing here with her arm outstretched.
"So you bought tickets to a Broadway show?" Now Jason makes a move, taking one of the slips from her still outstretched hand.
"Yes?"
Jason works his jaw as he studies the ticket, expression unreadable.
Stephanie fidgets where she is, suddenly apprehensive."So you down?" she asks and is immensely pleased when she manages to sound as casual as she was gunning for. "Might be fun," she adds enticingly. She folds her hands behind her back and keeps her fingers crossed, biting her bottom lip. "You know… like a bonding thing?"
"A bonding thing," he repeats. He sounds skeptical, and maybe even a little amused, which is leagues better than downright offended. He lifts his eyes and raises an eyebrow. "You said it's been a rough week?"
"Uh… yeah?" She swallows. If she's being honest, this is what she came here for, but she still doesn't know how to have this conversation. "I figured you might have some advice about… coping."
Jason doesn't say anything immediately. Instead, he takes a seat on the edge of the building, letting his legs hang over the side.
Stephanie can see two guns holstered at his hips and a knife strapped to his thigh. She knows he has more weapons on him in places she can't see. He might be one of the most dangerous people she knows, but she's not afraid of him.
She joins him, crossing one leg over the other and drumming her fingers against her thighs.
"I heard about what happened to you," Jason says, after a moment of silence. "I… Word spread. I'm sorry." He does sound genuinely sorry too and maybe a little angry.
It's actually… nice, knowing there's someone who's angry on her behalf.
Stephanie swallows thickly and her heart does an uncomfortable flip flop in her chest. She takes a deep, shaky breath. "It's all I can think about right now," she blurts out. She hates admitting that, hates the way it's been eating her up inside, the way she can still feel every scar he gave her.
She wonders if Jason feels that way too.
No, she corrects herself. She doesn't wonder.
She knows.
"So you came to me?"
Stephanie bites her lip and nods.
"Because obviously I'm the poster child for healthy coping mechanisms."
"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" she tries.
"You bought two tickets to a show because it 'seemed like a good idea at the time?'" He sounds incredulous and Stephanie thinks that she probably deserves that. He shakes his head. "No, you premeditated this shit."
Stephanie winces. "Alfred helped?" she offers.
Jason goes still at that and Stephanie wonders for a split second if she's made a terrible mistake by bringing Alfred up, but then Jason exhales carefully. "Normally, I'd suggest a drink, but..." He gives her a critical eye, the one that tells her she's not even remotely going to pass for someone over twenty-one.
She doesn't care.
"What? You're telling me you actually care about the legal drinking age?" She doesn't drink under normal circumstances. For one thing, she's still underage. For another, it's just… it's not really her thing. She's never had any interest in it, but now she's feeling challenged and she's always up for a good dare.
"I know a place if you're looking to get completely shitfaced." He gives her a wry smile. "I can get you in, no questions asked. The guys there know me."
Stephanie snorts. This is Gotham- places like that are probably a dime a dozen. No one actually cares. She's technically already breaking the law with this vigilantism schtick.
What's one more law?
So she gives him a smirk that she doesn't quite feel on the inside. She stretches her arms over her head until she feels her back crack and jumps to her feet. "Alright then, lead the way, Hood," she says. "Lead the way."
When she went out looking for Jason, she didn't expect the night to end like this: with them doing shots in a seedy bar. There's a sports game on the television that she's not paying any attention to and a group of tattooed men in leather vests are enjoying themselves playing pool. "I know it doesn't look like much," Jason had told her, "but the guy who runs it is a decent fellow."
She'd decided to take his word for it. So far, she hasn't had any regrets.
"Wow. This… this actually feels good." It had burned on the way down and she had choked and sputtered on her first try, eyes watering, much to Jason's entertainment. Asshole. Now, it's a pleasant warmth that spreads throughout her chest.
"I told you," Jason says and he actually sounds smug.
"Shut up." Her eyes are tearing and she knows her mom is going to kill her if she comes back smelling like she's been drinking, but she has bigger things to worry about.
Jason smirks, fingers curled around his own glass, but he doesn't poke fun at her again. "So you had something to say?"
Immediately, something inside Stephanie shrivels up. Yeah, she did want to talk, or she had wanted to, and, theoretically, it should be easier with a couple drinks inside of her. This is what she wanted, she reminds herself.
Maybe it's because she'd been having such a good time that it had taken her mind off of things. The bar is loud, a combination of the music and the raucous nature of the patrons. It had made it easier to push the thoughts that bothered her far from her mind.
"Yeah." She swallows the lump that rises in her throat.
"Look," Jason says. He looks at the counter, slowly tapping one finger against it. His jaw works and he clears his throat awkwardly. "I'm really not one to talk about… 'healthy communication' or whatever, but if there's something you need to get off your chest, I'm all ears."
"Thanks," Stephanie says. There's a knot in her chest. Her mom has tried to be there for her, but the thing is… it's hard for them both. "I mean it."
Jason shrugs, staring intently down at his shot glass. "I do too."
"I, uh, I heard about what happened to you," she says, echoing his words to her.
"Just about everyone has." There's just a hint of bitterness in his tone and she thinks of the cave, of the memorial Bruce leaves up even now. She wonders, for the first time, what that looks like to Jason.
"I'm sorry." She doesn't know what else to say.
Jason downs what's left of his drink. He sets the glass back down on the counter and takes a deep breath. "I am too."
"I just wanted to…" she takes a deep breath, "you know, let you know that if you wanted to talk about any of it, I'm all ears too."
"I'll take it under consideration."
"Does it ever… I don't know, get any easier to deal with?"
There's a moment where Jason doesn't say anything, where his eyes are distant and unfocused and Stephanie wonders if she should try saying something to drag him back. Then, he snaps back to the present moment. "You just have to remind yourself that you made it," he says. "That you're stronger than whatever tried to drag you down because you're still here. Even if sometimes you wish you weren't."
Something about his words punches her in the stomach and she's left floundering for air. At her lowest points during recovery, there had been moments where she'd allowed herself to think like that- that it would have been easier if he had just killed her.
Slowly, she lets out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
"No one wishes you were still gone, Jason," she says quietly. Slowly, she reaches out, placing her hand over his.
Jason gives her a startled glance, but he doesn't pull his hand away, which Stephanie takes as encouragement to push forward.
He does raise an eyebrow at her and the corner of his lips quirk upward, but it's not quite a smile yet. "Thought we were supposed to be talking about you?"
"We can talk about you too," she tries. The pleasant warmth in her chest is starting to dissipate, but she's not in the mood for another drink.
So much for getting completely shitfaced.
Jason pulls his hand back and looks away from her. "I'd rather not," he says.
Stephanie's heart sinks. "Okay. We don't have to talk about you."
Jason sighs, fingering his empty glass. "You're never going to forget what happened to you," he says finally. "But it's not something that has to define you. Or control you."
"Sage advice," Stephanie remarks dryly.
"If you were looking for something profound, you shouldn't have come to me. I don't do sappy." Jason waves down the bartender, a balding, older gentleman with a handle-bar mustache. "Put it all on my tab, Remi. She's with me," he says before Stephanie can protest and before she, in turn, remembers that she has no money on her. Her face warms.
Remi shakes his head, but there's a fond smile on his lips. "I already told you. You look out for this place," he says. "That's all the payment I need."
Jason looks like he might protest, then he shrugs his shoulders and leans back. "Stopped a handful of thugs from burning this place down when Remi couldn't afford 'protection money,'" he explains when Remi steps away. He seems almost embarrassed by this fact. "Make a point of coming by here once a night during patrol now, just so everyone knows it's off-limits. Remi's a good person, better than most people can say for themselves."
"I can see why he gives you free drinks." Stephanie nods.
"I'm not trying to take advantage of him." The tips of his ears have turned red.
"Who knew the Red Hood had a soft spot," she says. It's sweet, actually. The complete opposite of what his 'public image' has been.
He lightly punches her shoulder and she pretends it hurts. "Ow! What was that for?"
"Don't be stupid," he mutters, but there's no real heat behind it.
"Fine. Whatever." She shakes her head, but she's secretly grinning to herself.
"If you're thinking of telling any of them…"
"I would never do that." She's already got half the text message planned in her head. She's sure Dick would love it, but he doesn't need to know that.
Jason gives her a look that suggests he does know better than that, which is… insulting actually.
She sighs and throws up her hands in mock exasperation. "Fine. I'll let you be all dark and mysterious if that's really the image you want to maintain."
"I'm perfectly happy with it, thanks," he says, deadpan.
"You and Bruce both," she mutters. It's out before she actually can think about it and, once it's out, she cringes. Oops. "I mean…" She's not sure what she expected, but Jason doesn't blow his top at the mention of Bruce.
He grimaces, jaw clenching. Then he releases it with a heavy sigh. "I don't need you reminding me," he says.
"Completely unintentional," she promises. She wishes there was something in her glass so she could cover up the awkwardness she's currently feeling.
Even if it is kind of true.
"You know," she says after another moment of silence, praying she isn't about to put her foot in her mouth, "he might not do a very good job at showing it sometimes, but… he cares about you. A lot."
"That ship has already sailed." Jason rises to his feet.
"It doesn't have to…" Stephanie scrambles to her feet after him, desperate not to lose him, but she doesn't know the words to keep him. She follows him outside the bar.
"Good-bye, Stephanie," he says and she halts in her tracks. She gets the sense that trying to continue this will get her nowhere. No one has ever accused Stephanie of knowing when to stop, but she stops now. "I guess I'll see you at the Lion King?"
Stephanie breathes out, feeling loads lighter. She smiles. "Yeah. You will."