Red Hood and Sabine hit the road. Stalking and bad gas station coffee abound!
Chapter 16 of What's Up, Danger?: Should I Stay or Should I Go
8:05 PM, Sunday—Gotham
Jason knew he was being a weirdo, so he at least had a modicum of self-awareness. Civilians most likely didn't know that a sizable chunk of time being a vigilante was spent crouched and obscured in shadows, waiting—there were some who might call it stalking.
Whether it was staking out a suspect, waiting for the opportune moment to strike, or collecting intel, most of his time as the Red Hood was occupied with squatting silently and waiting. Sometimes for hours. And it was absolute hell on his knees. Not the most badass way to spend his time.
Batman had his black cape to help shield himself. Red Hood and the others employed shadows as their cloak in the night, silently blending into dark corners and alleyways. Waiting.
He could imagine what Roy—or heaven forbid, Dick— would say if he found him lurking outside a certain young woman's window, again ("Really? There are easier ways to get a girl's attention than stalking her.").
Jason watched from his vantage point on the roof of the building as a dark green BMW pulled up to the curb outside of Sabine's brick apartment building. The optics in his helmet gave him a clear view: she opened the door and stepped out, placing a cat carrier on the curb. Her father put the car in park, letting it idle on the side of the street as he left the key in the ignition. Not a smart move in Gotham where carjackers preyed on situations like that.
Sabine and her father hugged, his hand rubbed between her shoulder blades in a comforting manner. Then he kissed her forehead and handed her something small and square. A piece of paper maybe. Sabine reluctantly took whatever the offering was before she picked up the cat carrier and waved goodbye as the sleek two-door car rolled down the street and out of view.
Hugging her unzipped grey peacoat around her torso with one arm to guard herself against the cold, she hurried into her apartment building.
Jason decided to give her a few minutes to get settled despite his screaming leg joints begging to be stretched. He leaned back on his haunches, but the movement did little to relieve the tension in his joints.
Let's see how badly I fuck this up, he thought humorlessly at his half-baked scheme for the night.
After the events of last week, he knew Sabine was in rough shape mentally and emotionally. A week with her family seemingly improved her mood from what he could tell from texting and the odd phone call. Even then, uneasiness ate away at him, piece by piece.
But it wasn't just simple concern on his end. He was fucking worried about her.
What if whatever entity or whatever-fucking-thing-this-was came after her next?
What if he couldn't stop it?
This kind of crap felt way above his pay grade. But this was his city and his friend that needed him and he was going to save them.
Thoughts stirred ominously in his mind as if all the neon signs were pointing to the fact that Sabine was already doomed in some way. But maybe he could change her fate. He had to try.
The anxiety that kept him awake the past few nights simmered in his blood, a constant reminder that an invisible threat was lurking in the city. One that he couldn't yet put a face or name to yet.
After several minutes, Jason broke free from his bleak ruminations. He finally stood up and his knees cracked.
Silently, he scaled down the wall and landed quietly on the landing of the fire escape outside her window.
There wasn't much to unpack when Sabine arrived back at her studio apartment. After her dad dropped her off and gave her a long hug, she lugged her backpack and CEO's cat carrier up the several flights of steps to her door. She fiddled with her keys. The lock was starting to stick, she wondered if it was something worth having to tell her landlord about or if a spray of WD40 would fix it.
She brought back one more thing from her dad's house, a photo of her dad, Nicholas, and her mother, Olivia. It was old, the color in the Polaroid fading into yellow. Her dad had found it tucked away in the dusk jacket in an old copy of a poetry book when he'd been sorting through his collection, deciding on what to donate and what to keep.
Neither was looking at the camera, Nicholas's arm was slung over Olivia's shoulder and laughter was etched onto their faces. Her father was leaning in toward Olivia as if he were telling her a secret. He wore a denim jacket covered in patches and buttons, something she couldn't imagine him wearing these days, and his black hair was long and shaggy. Her mom had feathery bangs framing her face and had a loose white shirt under a plaid jumper.
And they looked so happy.
They'd only known each other for a few months, according to her dad; meeting at a poetry event in the Mission District in San Francisco one hazy night in their late teens. It was a whirlwind of a relationship that ended when he decided to attend college on the East Coast. They were young and hot for each other, but they knew they weren't in love. He didn't know that she was pregnant when she left and she never tried to reach out to him. He admitted to her their story wasn't exactly sappy romance novel material, mostly teenage hormones.
Sabine sighed, wondering what had happened to the woman in the photograph. It was hard for her not to feel cheated; she'd never known her mom the way her dad briefly had. Bitterness gnawed at her as her thumb glided over the gloss of the Polaroid, daydreaming for the hundredth time of what could have been; a mother that would kiss her scraped and bandaged knees, a mother that would cuddle in bed with her and read to her every night, a mother that would pick her up on time after school…
It was too easy to get lost in thoughts like that, and her daydreams would never change reality. The reality was that her mom was a troubled mess who could barely take care of herself, let alone her young daughter.
She opened a drawer in the kitchen—the one where she kept her cheap toolbox and extra batteries—and shoved the picture inside of it, all the way in the back. Out of sight, out of mind.
Sighing again, Sabine let CEO out of his cat carrier when there was a tap on the window.
She rolled her eyes because there was only one person in all of Gotham City who would drop in on her like this. So much for unwinding at home. Red Hood was turning out to be more of a friendly nuisance than a vigilante.
Sabine crossed the small space to the window. Her eyebrows pinched together when she eyed the familiar red shine of Red Hood's helmet through the glass as he stood in front of the guardrail of the fire escape in a laid-back manner.
She raised the window, letting the chilly night air invade her apartment and wash over her face. The coolness of the breeze was refreshing against her skin.
His distorted voice greeted her with a casual, "Yo."
Sabine hung over the edge of the sill, leaning her weight on her palms that she planted on the wooden frame. "Oh, it's you."
He huffed, but the noise came out garbled through his voice scrambler. "Who else would it be?"
Her voice came out blunt and a little tired when she asked, "Out of all the vigilantes in this city, how did I get stuck with you?"
He realized she was ribbing him from the traces of a half-smile on her face, which he took as a receptive sign.
Red Hood shrugged as he dropped down into a squat so they were eye-to-eye. "Just lucky, I guess."
The white slits on his mask bore into her eyes and it was only now that she realized that they had a haunting glow to them. Admitting she was used to the helmet would've been a lie. Sabine was well acquainted with the red metal and the expressionless face that hovered inches away from her own, knowing every curve and dip of its surface that contoured around the face of its wearer, but it was still eerie as hell.
Despite all of that, she still found herself giving her a small smile.
After several seconds of silence, Sabine curiously tilted her head. "You're not going to ask to come in?"
Red Hood was usually a chatterbox, so the lull in conversation was unusual. She couldn't see his face so she could only guess what he was thinking.
His gaze dragged downward momentarily, peering through the metal grate of the fire escape at his motorcycle below. He turned his unreadable face back to her. "I was actually hoping you'd come with me."
Sabine didn't even need half a second to consider his offer. Had he lost his damn mind? She pushed herself away from the sill and crinkled her nose.
"Hell no."
"Uh,"—he didn't know what else to say, all of his confidence and bravado slipping away because people usually didn't tell the Red Hood 'no' so easily—"please?"
She furled her eyebrows when she withdrew from the window but at least she didn't slam it in his face. Good. He didn't want to add breaking and entering into her apartment to his list of transgressions for the night.
Sabine busied herself by filling her electric kettle with water from the kitchen sink, shaking her head and almost laughing at the absurdity of his request.
Red Hood slipped down to sit on the ledge of her window. His boots planted on the hardwood floor, tracking in grime from the city.
Time to sell his pitch.
"Look," his tone edged on impatience as he watched her plug in her kettle and turn it on, "there's something weird going on with you. You say you don't know anything about Storrison or Leblanc's murders. Fair enough. I believe you. But, whether you like it or not, things are pointing in your direction. So trust me a little for a road trip, or a less friendly bat might be busting through your window."
Sabine paused as the water in the electric kettle boiled, tiny bubbles coming to the surface, and turned his words over in her mind with trepidation. A less friendly bat? Did he mean the Batman? She swallowed as icy dread made itself at home in her gut. She didn't like the implication at all.
"Yeah, figured you wouldn't want that," he scoffed cooly, reading her apprehensive body language.
She shot him a defiant but anxious look.
Red Hood looked down and shook his head. "I'm not trying to scare you—"
"Oh, you're not?" Her tone rose as the electric kettle boiled furiously behind her.
Red Hood shifted forward as he sat, his knuckles dug into his knees when he put his weight on them.
Their gazes met when he said, "I want to help you." I want to save you.
The electric kettle clicked, turning itself off as the bubbles inside the transparent container slowly subsided. But Sabine didn't move to get a mug or a tea bag. Instead, she chewed on the inside of her cheek, taken back at his sudden earnestness. Why didn't he start with that?
She considered his words. Could she trust him? Would he even believe her? She wanted to remain blissfully unaware that these murders had nothing to do with her. But Storrison and Leblanc? Both of them were connected to her. It couldn't be a coincidence.
As much as she would like a comforting mug of steaming hot herbal tea right now, she decided to hell with it. Maybe she could put some faith in the big, scary vigilante sitting on her window sill. If it was between him and the Batman, she'd rather take her chances with Red Hood.
"I…" Sabine wavered as she scrambled hastily for words. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip nervously and glanced at him. "I really don't know anything about their deaths but…things have been weird lately."
"Weird?" He echoed before following with, "how?"
"I don't really remember if it started before or after Storrison's death," she swallowed thickly before continuing, "but—-and this is going to sound crazy—I swear things have been moving around my apartment. Like, on their own. Things I thought I put away or moved. I thought I was just being forgetful but…I'm not sure."
Red Hood's eyes roamed around her apartment, noting the piles of books, clothes, and boxes that were strewn about. That would certainly explain the chronically disorganized state. He'd thought she was simply messy by nature.
She took a breath. "And…sometimes I have these visions."
"Visions?" He eyed her curiously. He hadn't been expecting that.
"Well, they're more like flashes. I don't know how to explain them. It's only happened a few times." Sabine didn't delve further than that. Things moving around on their own was one thing to admit, but having visions? It wasn't as if she was psychic as far as she knew. It could've been her imagination, but the sensations had felt so real, so tangible.
Red Hood leaned forward, interested. "Anything else?"
Sabine dipped her head and mumbled, "Sometimes when I'm upset my hands turn transparent."
Red Hood was stunned into muteness for a beat as he stared across the room at her.
"Are—are you sure?" He pried when he found his voice again.
"Yes," she said quietly before wringing her hands, "I had ghost hands—see-through and everything."
The memory of her fingers passing through her phone haunted her. Terrified her.
It was a relief to get it off her chest, though. For weeks it felt like she was holding in some terrible, disturbing secret.
Red Hood stood up, his large frame eclipsed the window. "Can you show me?"
Turning towards him, Sabine put her hands on her hips. The shift in mood on her face was plain as day when she frowned at him. "I can't do it on command."
Red Hood spied a cat toy, a golf-sized blue plastic ball with a bell inside that jingled, by the toe of his boot and picked it up. He casually tossed it into the air above his head and caught it.
"Do not throw that at me," Sabine seethed through gritted teeth, her eyes fixed on him.
He whistled amusedly, although through his helmet the melody came out harsh and discordant. "I figure it's only fair, you threw a bowl at me."
If she had x-ray vision, she would have seen him smirking crookedly behind the mask.
Not wanting to continue to play with fire and whatever goodwill she had for him, Red Hood gently tossed the ball under the coffee table and CEO went rushing after it.
Uneasy quiet enveloped the air between them. The only sound was the tinkle of the bell inside the ball the large tuxedo cat playfully pawed at.
"So," she began slowly, caving in to her curiosity, "where do you plan to take me on this field trip?"
"New York," he stated. He closed the space between them in several strides.
Sabine's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're kidding."
He huffed out a terse laugh. "'fraid not."
She blinked in mild shock. "Tonight? Now? It's already late."
"It's barely past 8," Red Hood countered in response to her meek protests. "Look," he said as he began to gesticulate with his hands, "we go to New York, meet up with my contact, get some answers, and you'll be home by…let's say, tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow morning?" she choked out.
"Well?" Red Hood eagerly waited for her response.
She gaped at him before muttering, "I think you need to work on your sales pitch."
Red Hood cocked his head to the side. "That doesn't sound like a no."
She groaned, soft and distressed. "It's not, but—fuck—let me think about this for a minute," she breathed out as she rubbed her forehead with a hand as it throbbed in sync with her heartbeat. "This sounds crazy. Going to New York? And with you?"
"Oh, come on," he pressed, assurance in himself boosted by the turn their conversation took, "it'll be fun. Nice, long night ride on a motorcycle. And hey, if you're good, I might even get you one of those 'I Love New York' tees. How's that sound?"
Sabine almost swore that one of the white lenses in his helmet winked at her.
"I can't believe I'm even considering this," she whispered. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, weighing her options. Either go with him now and maybe get some answers, or he'd probably come back to bother her every night until she conceded. Red Hood was relentless when he set his mind to something.
She didn't need to stew on the question should I stay or should I go? for too long. She wanted to know what was happening almost as much as him. And maybe there was a way to stop whatever was going on with her.
Sabine held up a finger and she stepped forward. She tilted her head up, her narrowed eyes locking on the whites of his helmet. "I'll go, but you're bringing me back by morning. Okay? I have lectures in the afternoon that I can't miss."
Red Hood laid a hand over his heart, satisfied that something was finally going his way. "I promise. Back by morning."
10:55 PM
Even in the darkness and through the tinted visor over her eyes, Sabine made out the rectangular green sign posted next to the interstate amongst overgrown weeds that read Welcome to New York—The Empire State.
Finally, she thought in exasperation after enduring a two-and-a-half-hour motorcycle ride. If it weren't for the full-face helmet shoved over her head, Red Hood would've felt her exhale in relief against his neck.
Her butt felt numb from a combination of sitting and the vibrations of the bike. The body heat emanating from him helped stay her warm during the long ride as they sped through the night and along the seemingly endless asphalt road. The sherpa lining of her bomber jacket wasn't as helpful as she predicted against the cold. If only she had put on an extra layer of thermals underneath.
The wind howled around her as they flew down the highway and the engine of the motorcycle reverberated in her ears. Once her heart stopped pounding after the first thirty minutes and she adjusted to the fact that they were going 80MPH on a piece of metal with nothing protecting their squishy bodies except helmets and jackets, she decided it was both terrifying and exhilarating. Like flying.
Sabine couldn't stifle the creeping feeling of deja vu as she sat on the back of the bike with her arms around the vigilante, tucked in against his broad back and leather jacket. This all felt too familiar. But as quickly as the dangerous idea came to her—the mere inkling that she might know who was under the hood—she pushed it away because that was impossible.
Of all the weird things that had occurred over the past few weeks, being coerced into a road trip with Red Hood was not something that had been on her first semester of graduate school bingo card. He simply laid out the facts and she listened, begrudgingly. She hoped her trust in him wasn't misplaced.
Her bottom lip was dry and chapped from nervously pulling her teeth over them for so long. None of this felt real. If it wasn't for the volatile yet sweet scent of petrol, the rumble of the engine, the cold air blasting her body, or the feel of his body armor—surprisingly balmy—under her hands, she would've thought this was a dream.
Red Hood peeled off the interstate, taking an exit off-ramp that curved around and deposited them in a small rest stop area; there was a gas station, a handful of fast-food restaurants, and not much else besides a scattering of street lamps.
She was surprised that they were stopping, but after she curiously peered over his shoulder she saw that the little marker on the motorcycle's cylindrical fuel gauge display was close to the E—empty.
He pulled into the almost deserted gas station and slowed to a stop by one of the pumps. Sabine released her grip around his waist and took off her helmet.
She fidgeted around nervously as she dismounted the bike and noticed the CCTV cameras. "What if someone sees us?"
"CCTV footage is notoriously shitty," Red Hood answered as he nudged down the kickstand with his boot. He took the helmet from her and held it in the crook of his arm. "Besides, those cameras are just for show. They aren't even on."
He pointed and Sabine's eyes followed his gesture to a small security camera mounted to the wall next to the gas station's entrance. The lens looked busted, she was amazed he could see that right away and from a distance.
Watching Red Hood pump gas landed somewhere in-between the realm of unreal and utterly mundane. And the longer she knew him, the harder it was for her to match him with the stories she read online and heard on the news about his brutality. He was menacing in size and stature, that much was true, and the voice modulator added an in-human element to his presence. Red Hood fit the very definition of intimidating, but seeing him do something so everyday and normal almost made her forget how dangerous he was. Almost.
Her forehead creased in alarm when she noticed him shake the last droplets of gas from the fuel nozzle. He placed the nozzle back in the pump before he strolled away, the keys to the bike jingling in his pocket.
Fretfully, she asked, "Where are you going?"
He paused mid-stride and looked back over his shoulder at her. "I gotta take a leak. Can't fight crime with a full bladder. Promise I won't be gone long. You're perfectly safe, Donuts, don't worry."
"Oh." Sabine raised her eyebrows and nodded because of course he wouldn't just abandon her at a gas station in the middle of nowhere (right?).
From a distance, she eyed the guns strapped into the holsters at his sides and wondered if he was expecting trouble on this trip or was exerting caution. She didn't mind him being careful, but if there was a chance of danger she wished he'd tell her.
A customer leaving the convenience store stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Red Hood, nearly dropping his cherry slurpee on the pavement as he stood there slack-jawed.
Red Hood gave him a two-finger wave as he sauntered past like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Sabine glanced at the pump before turning her head to yell, "Hey, should I watch your bike or…"
Too late. He was gone to the bathroom, wherever the heck that was, she supposed. She exhaled out of her nose noisily like a bull, miffed.
The bright lights above her flickered momentarily before humming back to life. Not wanting to feel like she was stuck alone in a horror movie while waiting for Red Hood, she wandered into the gas station convenience store that glowed like a shining refuge for snacks along the side of the interstate. If they were going to make a pit stop she might as well get something to eat and drink.
A few minutes later, the glass door dinged as she pushed it open, one hand preoccupied with holding a shitty one-dollar cup of coffee and two bags of trail mix hanging from the edge of their wrapping from her mouth.
Sabine spotted Red Hood idling for her by his motorcycle, sitting against the seat with his arms crossed and tapping the heel of his boot.
She tossed him a packet of trail mix. "Here."
He lazily caught it. Puzzled by the bag of nuts and seeds, he said, "Thanks?"
Sabine shrugged and stopped in front of him. "Can't fight crime on an empty stomach. I hope you don't have a nut allergy or something."
When he didn't offer a smart-mouthed retort, Sabine shifted where she stood as her cheeks burned in embarrassment. He couldn't just very well take his helmet off in front of her, even to do something as normal as eating.
"Sorry, it was a dumb thought," she muttered, staring down into her cup of coffee.
"Oh, no," he sputtered, "I'm generally used to everyone trying to kill me, not giving me snacks. It's a, uh, nice change." He tucked it into one of the hidden pockets inside the liner of his jacket, making sure not to put it in the one that held a multitude of tiny explosives.
"You make it sound like no one likes you," she said, quirking up an eyebrow.
Red Hood scoffed. "Not a lot of people do."
Without thinking, Sabine reached out and pressed her fingertips to the red bat symbol on his chest between the flaps of his leather jacket. "But you have this."
He looked away from her. The place on his chest where her fingers brushed ached in a strange way from the soft pressure of her touch. "Some people take issue with that. Think I shouldn't wear it or don't deserve to."
Her lips twitched downward, confused. "Why?"
"It's a long story," Red Hood grumbled, twisting his chest away from her. He disliked the vulnerability she somehow wrested out of him so quickly.
He sternly reminded himself of the mission objective: saving Gotham and figuring out Sabine fit into this whole mess. He couldn't let his personal feelings interfere and cloud his judgment. He was unable to decipher why she continuously muddied the waters .
Sabine poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue, now aware that she had inadvertently struck a nerve somehow. A pang of guilt sliced through her because his story—and his reasons for doing what he did—were none of her business.
They both didn't say anything for a minute, Sabine wondering if she should apologize for her nosiness and Red Hood contemplating why the hell his face felt hotter than usual under the mask.
She raised the small coffee cup to her lips and took a sip before spitting it out of her mouth when the strong burnt and sour flavor hit her tongue.
Sabine winced and held the cup away from her like it was radioactive. "Holy shit, it tastes like battery acid."
"I could've told you that," Red Hood chuckled as he watched her wipe away traces of the offending coffee with the cuff of her jacket. Relief filled his bones, thankful for the shift in conversation.
Sabine thought about finishing the foul concoction, knowing that she'd probably need every scrap of energy to get through the rest of the night with Red Hood. However, chugging the rest of the coffee was the least appealing thing she could think of. She was desperate for caffeine, but not that desperate. She tossed the cup into a trash can by the pump with a look of disappointment on her face, forehead creased and pouting her lips.
Red Hood handed her the motorcycle helmet and invitingly patted the space on the seat behind him. "Come on, we're almost there, Donuts."
Her shoulders sagged, feeling had finally returned to her butt as she climbed onto the motorcycle, settling herself behind him. She shoved the helmet on over her head.
"Sabine," she asserted as the engine loudly turned over. "My name is Sabine."
He gripped the clutch and revved the bike, the machine let out a monstrous vroom that drowned out her words.
"What'd ya say, Donuts?" he quipped as he leaned over the handlebars.
She rolled her eyes and reluctantly slipped her arms around him. Warmth exuded from his torso. Her mind frantically tried to fend off the sentiment of how nice she found that as she held onto him.
"Never mind."
A/N: Sorry for the wait, I rewrote this chapter so many times because I wasn't happy with it! I know the logic of Sabine agreeing to go on a road trip with Red Hood/Jason is a bit shaky but shhhhh!—the plot needs to push forward ?
Btw gonna make some small edits to previous chapters but nothing story/narrative-altering, if I do make a change like that I'll let you know in the chapter notes!
Thanks for reading!—and thank you for all the comments/reviews, bookmarks, kudos, hits, etc.! :)
also p.s. to by ffnet readers, I really wish this site let me reply to your reviews! Ya'll are so lovely!