And here's chapter 4! Read and enjoy, and don't forget to leave me a review!

Chapter 4: Rogue Attack

Halloween. Harry wasn't entirely sure why, but he'd always hated the holiday. Part of it was definitely because Dudley had been allowed to go trick-or-treating, but Harry hadn't, and Dudley would hold it over him for the entire month of October, then taunt him with sweets the entire month of November (and then his taunts turned to the fact that Harry never got Christmas presents, either). But Harry suspected there was more to it than that.

But holiday or not, Harry was nearly out of food, and he wanted to browse the thrift stores for a coat, too. So Harry went about his usual business. The morning was slow, so Harry kept out of the way, watching pedestrian traffic. It picked up around lunchtime, and even more so today as people were buying last-minute candy and costumes. And since it was a Saturday, there were tons of kids out with their parents.

Harry put on his nicer clothes, a worn flannel and a pair of jeans that were long enough to mostly cover his ragged sneakers. (He should probably try to get a better pair of shoes, too.) He then jammed the beanie over his head and joined the back of a family of five—two parents and three kids—to slip into the secondhand store unnoticed. Keeping one eye on the families that would be his ticket out, Harry browsed the kids shoes and outer clothing. He had just twenty-five dollars on him, and he hoped to find a coat for half of that or less. Harry glanced at his shoes again, which were so worn that the sole was peeling away from the upper. The laces were frayed in a dozen places and there were holes in the sole and where his big and pinkie toes were. The longer he stared, the more he realized that he needed a pair of boots or something first.

Going to the rack of shoes, Harry scanned for something suitable. A size up would be fine; he could stuff the toes with newspaper or wear extra socks. Most of the boots were rain boots, which were impractical for long-term wear. Snow boots were too much, and they'd be too noticeable when the weather warmed up again. Frowning, Harry looked a little harder, and his eyes lit on a pair of grey and green boots. They weren't quite snow boots, but they were sturdier than most of the other boots available. Most of the sneakers, too. Actually, Harry was pretty sure they were hiking boots. They were a size too big, but from how quickly Harry was suddenly growing, that wouldn't be a problem in six months—and they looked like they'd last that long, too. They were perfect!

But they were eighteen dollars.

Harry cringed at the price tag. He did have ten more dollars stashed away in his hide-out for emergencies. Harry looked down at his shoes again. He could see his big toe wiggle through the hole. Harry glanced toward the front shop window. It was raining outside. Again. He looked down at his shoes. His feet were already damp from a sudden cloud burst on the way over.

Harry snatched the boots off the rack and got in line behind a family with two kids a little older than him.

Ten minutes later, Harry finished lacing up his brand-new boots. He tapped his toes together, grinning at how warm his feet were. He still had five dollars and some change in his pocket. It was worth it.

Harry happily skipped through puddles, delighting in the way the boots repelled the water. He could get a coat later. For now, he could layer, and he had dry feet!

Fifteen minutes later, his feet were about the only thing that was dry.

Oops.

Starting to shiver in the cold rain, Harry set his path toward the library, where he might run into Jason, and where he could stand by the heater in the back of the kids' section and dry off.

Jason wasn't in the library when Harry arrived, but Harry hoped he'd show up soon, because he'd said he was going to return the last books they'd gotten for new ones today, and Harry already had a list in mind of books he wanted next.

Sure enough, when Harry was about halfway dry, Jason's familiar form rounded a shelf. He started to smile in greeting, then he noticed the water still dripping off his hair.

"What were ya doin' in the rain, dummy?" Jason asked with a laugh, ruffling his damp hair and scattering water drops.

"Um…playing?" Harry winced at Jason's disapproving look. "But look! I got new shoes!" He held out a foot to show off the boots. "They're waterproof! They were a little expensive, and I know I was going to use the money for a coat, and I haven't eaten yet today, but they're waterproof! It was worth it!"

Jason sighed. "Just when I start ta forget how young you are, because you're ridiculously competent and smart, ya go and remind me that you're barely eight years old."

"You're only ten!"

"Eleven, actually," Jason countered, straightening his shoulders and sticking out his chest. "My birthday was in August."

"Oh." Harry hunched his shoulders, uncomfortably tapping his toes together, waiting for the older boy to yell at him.

Jason sighed. "I'm not mad, Harry. I'm glad ya finally replaced those ratty sneakers, before the weather got really bad. But you…you've never actually spent a winter in Gotham, have you?"

Harry hesitantly shook his head.

"So ya probably didn't realize. But bein' wet when it's cold outside is just shy of a death sentence. Sometimes it's unavoidable, but ya gotta be careful, kid. Ya don't spend any more time in the rain than ya hafta 'til it warms up again."

Harry nodded, still half-expecting Jason to yell at him.

Jason lifted his chin with a finger. "Hey. Your new shoes are super cool. Where'd ya find 'em?"

Harry smiled hesitantly. "The secondhand shop on Tenth and Robinson. They're a little big, but I keep growing, so I think that's a good thing."

"That's some luck ya got, kid," Jason said. "Those are real hiking boots, and a good brand, too. I bet the shop mis-labeled 'em," he added with a smirk. "How much were they?"

"Just eighteen dollars," Harry said proudly.

Jason whistled. "Damn. Impressive. Those shoes usually go for a hundred or more. So make sure ya don't pass out in any alleys, 'kay? Lucky they're not bright like other kids' stuff. 'Else they'll get robbed right off your feet."

Harry's eyes widened. "I didn't think about that. I'll be super, super careful. Promise."

Jason grinned and ruffled his hair. "I know ya will, little hawk. Are ya dry enough to come look for books with me?"

Harry nodded eagerly. Almost automatically—like every time they went to the library—Jason reached out at the same time Harry did, and Jason's bigger hand closed around Harry's smaller one, squeezing lightly. Then Jason tugged him along to the camping and hiking section of the library. They grabbed the next two books in the Boxcar children series as they left the kids' section—a series Harry had decided to try and absolutely loved.

After spending about an hour browsing and waiting for the rain to stop, Jason and Harry finally left with the two Boxcar Children books, a book on urban survival, and another book on martial arts, as well as two of Jason's picks, one being Oliver Twist, and the other, Inkheart. They put the books in grocery bags and split them between their two backpacks, then Jason took Harry's hand again and they headed back to Jason's base.

Jason's base was an empty apartment practically right in the middle of Crime Alley. Most of the building was empty, since the upper floors were no longer structurally sound. But Jason had claimed a corner apartment on the third floor, in the part of the building that was in the best condition. It was accessible by fire escape or by the stairs inside. It was a one-bedroom apartment, with the bedroom window open to the fire escape.

Jason used the fire escape in the bedroom as an entrance, but his main base was the laundry room in the center of the apartment, away from the doors, windows, and drafts. It was big enough to not feel cramped, but small enough to conserve heat on the cold, drafty nights. And it had a door that could close, so he could hide inside if necessary. The floor was wood—well, vinyl tiles that looked like wood, anyway, peeling and cracked especially around the edges. A piece of real wood had been nailed over the dryer vent, and a bucket was set up below the water line with the abandoned hose hanging into it. If Jason was careful, he could turn the water on and fill the bucket a few times a week.

There was a single built-in cabinet with a shelf above it in one corner. Jason stashed the most important things in the cabinet, behind the broken door Jason had repaired himself. He used the shelf above for extra blankets and water jugs (which were empty milk cartons and two-liter drink bottles, filled with water from the bucket). Several tattered and well-loved books were neatly arranged on top of the cabinet. In the opposite corner was a nest made up of several ragged blankets piled on top of each other, with a single, flat pillow.

Harry had been here many times, often staying the night because when Jason started reading, it was easy to lose track of time, and Harry usually fell asleep within an hour or two anyway.

Harry arranged the books on top of the cabinet, deciding which one to read first, while Jason put away the rest of his things. Before Harry could make a decision, Jason suddenly placed his hands firmly on Harry's shoulders.

Harry looked up and caught his breath at the deadly serious look on his face.

"You are staying here all night. Under no circumstances are you to leave this room, no matter what. I want you to swear it to me. Do you understand?"

Harry bit his lip, a pit in his stomach. "W-why?"

"Because tonight is Halloween, which is every rogue's favorite time to attack. I do not want you out there. Do you swear? No matter what."

Licking his lips, Harry nodded. "I swear."

"Good. I have one more errand to run. I want you to wait for me, and we can read when I get back. Okay?"

"W-where are you going?"

Jason smiled crookedly. "You said you haven't eaten today. Neither have I. So I'm going to find us some food."

"Will you be back before dark?" It was midafternoon.

"I shouldn't be more than an hour. But even if I'm not back, you do not leave this room until tomorrow, after the sun is fully up. Understand?"

Harry's mouth was dry and dread pooled in his stomach. "I understand," he said quietly.

Jason smiled in relief, then gave Harry a quick hug before slinging his nearly-empty backpack over his shoulder and leaving.

When the door quietly snicked shut, Harry sat down hard.

This wasn't the first time Jason had left him. Actually, they almost never hung out for more than a few hours at a time. Harry was used to saying "see you later" and then sometimes not seeing Jason for several days.

So why was he suddenly so scared at Jason leaving this time?

Harry knew about the rogues—the especially crazy villains who liked to challenge Batman. He'd heard a news report a few weeks ago about the Riddler pulling some scheme in Old Gotham, and Poison Ivy had done something in the Diamond District just last week. She had also claimed Robinson Park just outside Crime Alley, but Harry had heard it was mostly safe for kids.

But the Old Gotham and Diamond District attacks were on the other side of town. And as far as Harry knew (which admittedly wasn't very much), no one had actually died. So Harry didn't really understand what was so bad about the "rogue attacks" Jason seemed so worried about. And what would they want in Crime Alley anyway?

Either way, Harry was both terrified and confused.

And bored.

Harry tried flipping through the pictures in the survival guide, but a lot of them were small diagrams he couldn't quite make out. The rest of Jason's books were all words, too, in print too small for Harry to read. He amused himself for a short while playing with a stray ball of lint, then with a lonely screw. Then Harry tried to take a nap, but the gnawing hunger in his stomach woke him after less than an hour.

He found Jason's sewing kit and repaired the holes in his socks and in one of Jason's shirts—he'd learned how to do that at the Dursleys, Aunt Petunia insisting his small hands were better suited for clothing repair. The only reason Dudley's clothes had lasted as long as they did once they were passed down to Harry was thanks to his skill with a needle and thread. (That skill had unfortunately come in handy one other time, when Dudley had pushed Harry into a big garbage bin, and he'd fallen on broken glass. He'd given himself five stitches on his left arm because Aunt Petunia had refused to take him to the emergency room. That was last summer.)

By the time Harry finished his self-appointed task, the sun had set. And there was no sign of Jason. For twenty minutes Harry tried to justify his absence as a growing, gnawing dread filled his stomach in place of hunger. But when there was still no sign of him, the fear started to make him antsy. Harry tried pacing, but he kept finding himself at the door about to leave. So, finally, Harry took a deep breath and pulled on his shoes, his flannel, and his hoodie, plus his beanie and fingerless gloves, and carefully crept his way out and down. He did make sure to lock the door behind him—Jason had taught him how to pick locks back in September, after he first showed Harry his base. (Jason didn't like it when Harry called it a hideout. Said it sounded childish. Harry disagreed.)

It was dark, and eerily quiet when Harry finally made it outside. In the distance he could hear sirens and screaming. That was mostly normal. Cautiously, keeping to the edges of the street and using the shadows to hide, Harry made his way down the street.

He'd gone half a block before he realized that he had no idea where to even start looking for Jason. He'd said he was going for food, but Harry was sure he had some other goal, too—because Jason had food at his base. A few packs of dried noodles and a half-empty bag of sunflower seeds. Harry didn't dare touch it without permission, though. Stealing from stores, Harry didn't mind (anymore). But stealing directly from people? Harry shuddered at the memory of the time he'd tried to steal food from the Dursleys. (That was the only time Vernon had used the belt.)

Harry didn't have time to go much further, though, because suddenly the screams were closer. Harry caught a whiff of something, like smoke. Did someone start a fire? Explosions weren't uncommon, not in Gotham anyway. Harry had witnessed half a dozen from a distance, and one over in the Bowery, neighboring Crime Alley, had been close enough that his ears were ringing for a day afterward. So smoke wasn't a weird thing to smell on the wind.

Was there wind? There was a rushing noise in his ears, and his head was starting to hurt. Probably from hunger. He should probably head back.

Back where? Looking around, everything was dark. Had he turned around? He put one foot in front of the other, but he didn't know which way he was going. Was he going toward the base or away from it?

The screams were louder, almost directly in his ear. For some reason, the sound made his stomach churn. Were those voices? Something about take, go. Someone holding someone off? Was that Jason? Was he fighting someone?

The rushing noise was back, creating pressure in his head. Ooh, his head hurt. Did he hit his head? Something wet was running down his forehead, where the pain was centered.

Someone was shouting. Something about lilies? Why would someone be shouting about flowers?

Suddenly an explosion of green light erupted right in front of Harry. He reeled back. Someone was laughing. Cold, cruel laughter. The green explosion came again, and his forehead exploded in pain. He cried out, closing his eyes against the pain.

And suddenly everything came together, all at once, like a memory that had been just out of reach suddenly slotting into place.

Shouting. Laughter. Green. Cold, cruel, acid green. And pain. So much pain.

Harry screamed.

Harry first registered the warmth. Engulfing him, surrounding him, anchoring him. And he was cold. So, so cold. He couldn't stop shaking.

The next thing he noticed was the voice. A singular voice, shaking, young, scared, but saying things like "you're okay" and "it's not real."

Then he noticed pain. Soreness would be a better word. His muscles ached, and his forehead stung. But he didn't seem badly hurt.

Then Harry tried to open his eyes, and he saw green, and the memory crashed back down.

The next time he woke up the same. First warmth, then a voice—the same as before, but hoarse now. The soreness wasn't so bad. The sting in his forehead was a dull ache. His throat hurt a little. He hesitated before opening his eyes, wordlessly pleading, please, no green. Please.

He saw red. It soothed him. He curled in tighter, clinging to the red.

The voice faltered, then arms tightened around him and the top of his head grew damp.

This time Harry woke properly. Still clutched in someone's arms, but now he registered new symptoms. His stomach ached hollowly. His bladder was uncomfortably full. His throat still hurt. Harry whined and pushed against the arms surrounding him. They loosened with a soft noise of confusion. Harry broke free and bolted to the bathroom, stumbling the whole way on stiff legs.

Relieved of one discomfort, Harry poured water from the jug beside the toilet into the tank and flushed, then stumbled out, finally blinking and taking in his surroundings.

Oh. This was Jason's base. And there was Jason, halfway out of the doorway to their room, his eyes wide and red-rimmed. Then he ran forward and grabbed Harry in a hug so tight he was afraid for his ribs.

"Oh, thank God. You scared me, little hawk." Jason's voice cracked. "Damn you, I was terrified. I told you not to go out. But it's not your fault. It's my fault for not explaining, and for being late. God, I'm so glad you're okay."

Harry tried to protest, but the words wouldn't come out. He made a noise of confusion, squirming in the tight hold.

"Yeah, don't think you'll be talking for a bit. You…you were screaming. A lot. For a long time." Jason hugged him still tighter, pulling them both down to the floor.

Screaming? Why would he be screaming?

Then he remembered. All of it. And Harry burrowed into Jason's arms, his chest heaving with silent sobs.

Jason pulled Harry into his lap, holding him tightly. "It's okay. You're okay. You're okay."

The words sounded tired and worn, like they'd been spoken countless times over a relatively short period of time.

Harry could only sob. The screams, the two green flashes. The soft thump of something heavy hitting the floor. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he understood what he had seen. He didn't understand the how or the why, but he knew what he'd seen.

He didn't want to think about it.

What felt like hours later, Harry's sobs died and he slumped in Jason's arms, exhausted and spent. He wouldn't want to talk even if he could. Words were gone. Out of reach, inadequate to even try to describe the horror.

"You got hit with Scarecrow's fear gas," Jason said quietly. "It makes you hallucinate your worst fears. I think it can make you remember traumatic memories, too." Jason exhaled shakily. "I got a bit of it, too. Remembered a few things I wish had stayed forgotten. But I came out of it pretty quickly, once I got the antidote from Batman. I gave it to you, too, but…you weren't coming out of it." Jason held him tighter. "God, I was so scared."

Harry just clung to Jason's red sweatshirt, too tired to cry but not tired enough to sleep.

And he was scared to sleep.

They sat there for several more minutes before Jason spoke again. "I did get some food. I bet you're pretty hungry. Then we can stay in and read for a while. Sound good?"

Harry nodded. Jason gently pushed him away, then got to his feet and offered Harry his hand. Harry grabbed his whole arm, pressing into his side.

Jason chuckled softly and led the way back to their blanket nest. He grabbed a can of something orange, popped it open with the tab on top, and passed it to Harry with a plastic fork.

"You can eat those while I make some peanut butter sandwiches."

Harry ate robotically. The orange thing was sweet and smooth.

Oh. Peaches.

A tiny smile crept onto Harry's lips. He ate another one, loudly slurping the juice and making Jason laugh.

When the peaches were gone, Harry drank the rest of the juice. A bit of it escaped down his chin and Harry wiped it off with his sleeve. His flannel, he registered. But hadn't he been wearing his hoodie?

(The green.)

Jason took the empty can and replaced it with a sandwich. Honey dripped off the crust. Harry bit into the sandwich, and his eyes widened. More sweet.

Jason chuckled as Harry ate ravenously. "Yeah, I figured that would cheer you up. The honey will help your throat, too." He ate his own sandwich a little slower, then helped Harry wipe the honey off his hands with a wet wipe.

Hold on.

Harry looked around and saw that the food was way more stocked than it had been before. The honey was something brand-new. And there were two more huge packs of baby wipes beside the one at Jason's knee. And Jason's jeans were new—well, new to Harry. And nicer than anything out of a donation box.

Harry pointed to the wipes and the new jeans, making a confused face.

"You noticed?" Jason smiled sheepishly. "Every few months, I do someone a favor, and they give me two big bags stuffed with anything I want from the food bank and thrift store back stock. This time it was food, the wipes, and some new clothes. A few other miscellaneous things. And a few new books." Jason grinned. "I just couldn't resist when I saw they had some of the Boxcar Children books."

Harry's eyes widened, a smile creeping onto his face.

"You want to read one now?"

Harry nodded eagerly.

Jason smiled. He brushed crumbs off himself, then picked up one of the books off the shelf and settled in the blanket nest against the wall. Then he patted the space beside him. Harry rushed to take it, leaning into Jason's side as he opened the book.

They got about halfway through before Jason's voice gave out. But it was okay, because Harry was already nearly asleep. Moving slowly, Jason set the book aside and maneuvered them both to be lying down. Harry curled into Jason's side, clutching his red hoodie. Jason's arms fell around him automatically, pulling him in a little closer. Within moments, Harry was asleep.

Then came the nightmares.

Full of shouting, screams, laughter, and green. So much green.

Harry woke with a hoarse cry only hours later. Jason startled awake and was halfway into a defensive position when he realized first, that there was no danger, and two, Harry was crying. Sobbing, in fact, shaking and crying and soundlessly pleading for no more green, please. Make it stop. Make it stop. Please, no more green.

Jason pulled him in close, hugging him tightly and whispering, "it's okay" and "I've got you."

It felt like hours before Harry fell back into an exhausted sleep.