A mix of sandwiches, phone calls, pining, a lil bit of spooky?, and baking!
Chapter 22 of What's Up, Danger?: Keep Digging Myself Down Deeper
9:00 PM, Friday
Sabine's nose and cheeks tingled from the windchill outside as she hastily made her way inside the warm sanctuary of the apartment building. Although, she still felt the chill invasively sneak in through the worn-down weather stripping under the doorway.
She pulled down her scarf that covered her lower face, letting the heat sink into her skin.
Much better.
With her key lanyard with pepper spray attached via carabiner occupying one hand and a plastic bag containing a wrapped deli sandwich from the bodega down the street dangling from the other, she started up the four flights of stairs to her apartment.
In the depths of her peacoat pocket, her cell phone vibrated—an incoming call. Shifting the plastic bag to her other side, she jammed her newly free hand into her pocket to retrieve the phone. A peek at the screen revealed the unexpected caller's name in white text—Jason—which prompted her brows to shoot up her forehead.
She stared at his name for a moment, baffled, not sure what to make of it.
Walking up the stairs, Sabine peeled off a mitten with her teeth and tapped at the green accept call button on the touch screen. She slotted her phone between her cheek and her scrunched-up shoulder when she answered:
"Oh, hey, Jason…what's up?"
Sabine half-expected it to be a butt dial, or an accident because Jason didn't seem like the type of person to call out of the blue.
"Just checking on you, making sure you're eating," he said, skipping right over greetings.
Sabine almost let out a sigh of relief at the sound of his familiar voice.
Okay, so not an awkward butt dial…
From his end of the line, she heard him rustling around. Maybe he was getting ready for work? Not that she knew what he did, but she concluded it was some night-shift type deal by this point.
Finally arriving at her floor's landing, she walked over to her front door and fiddled with her collection of keys before jamming the right one into the lock and twisting it.
"Oh," she said softly as she pushed open her door, continuing to juggle all the items in her hands. Her eyebrows pinched together. "You could have just texted?"
Sabine kicked the door closed behind her and stripped off her other mitten. She set the plastic bag on the kitchen counter and took off her beanie, then uncoiled the wooly scarf from around her neck.
There was a long, uneasy gap of silence on his end and he seemed to stop moving around as if the thought occurred to him as soon as she said it.
"N-not that I don't enjoy talking to you," Sabine rushed out worriedly, hands working to unbutton her peacoat, cell phone still planted between the side of her face and a raised shoulder. "Or that I don't appreciate you calling!—I do, I really do."
She yanked off her jacket and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair, waiting for his response.
Jason chuckled and it eased her worked-up nerves. "Don't worry about it, no toes stepped on here." He paused and inhaled. "But just to double-check…calling's okay?"
Did he sound…hesitant?
"Yeah, calling's fine," she reassured. Just…unexpected. She draped her scarf over the same chair as her jacket and teasingly added, "Aww, were you worrying about me?"
"Someone has to," he responded simply.
His unabashed concern sent a sweet pang straight to her heart.
The warmth brewing inside her chest spread to her cheeks. "Well, I just got home, and I bought a huge sandwich for dinner because I'm starving."
"Didn't we just buy you groceries?" he asked, sounding a touch offended.
Sabine's lips lifted into a guilty smile. "Yeah, but I had the most intense craving for a club sandwich tonight and Sal makes the best ones."
Surely, Jason could understand the overwhelming power of intense food cravings. No amount of cup ramen or mac-n-cheese on earth could stop her from making the journey down the street to the store. Jason wasn't heartless, he'd understand.
Jason eagerly said, "Are you talking about Sal's Bodega? He makes godly breakfast sandwiches, greasy as hell, but so damn good. I think the secret is all the caked-up grease and oil on the grill."
She grinned into the phone, pleasantly surprised. "You know the place?"
Jason was a Gotham native, after all. He probably knew all the best hole-in-the-wall food spots in the city by now. He certainly seemed to know all the coffee and diner spots.
He half-snorted, half-laughed. Truly a wonderful and uniquely Jason sound. "One time when I was in line, someone told me the reason all his sandwiches are so addicting is that the cheese slices are always expired."
"Well, whatever it is, he's doing something right over there," Sabine mused as she unwrapped the deli paper around the sandwich and fetched a plate out of the cupboard. Between the layers of sourdough bread, the tempting fillings nearly burst out. She put the larger half of the sandwich on the plate, re-wrapped the other half, and placed it in the fridge, either for later or for breakfast (if she remembered it was there).
Jason, ever vigilant and sharp, picked up and latched onto a word she used earlier. "So starving, eh?"
Sabine froze, the half-sandwich lifted in hand and inches from her mouth. Caught red-handed.
Shit.
She pictured his face on the other end of the line; a smug smile and a brow raised in suspicion, an expression that silently screamed that he knew she'd been skipping meals (unintentionally) again.
It was an accident!-she swore up and down.
She faltered and nearly dropped the sandwich back on the plate. "Well, um, I did have coffee and toast for breakfast. And then…" she trailed off with a wince, and rubbed the side of her neck, "…I kind of forgot to eat again until thirty minutes ago."
The anticipation that Jason would chew her out twisted her guts into a pretzel.
Instead, her admission ripped a bark of laughter out of him and a tone deprived of judgment. "Hey, I'm just happy you went out and got yourself something." Sabine could almost count the beats of silence between them as she stood embarrassed in her kitchen before he tacked on, "I'll let you go, so you and the sandwich can have some alone time."
Of course, Jason had to shove some snark into every conversation he took part in.
Sabine rolled her eyes, her blossoming fondness for him crumbling. "Thank you for your consideration." She eyed the sandwich on the countertop, waiting to be devoured. "I'm about to scarf this bad boy down, so yeah, it is about to get real messy in here."
That pulled out a long groan from him.
"Glad you got yourself something to eat, dork, because if you don't—"
"—right, right, burgers, fries, feeding tubes…the works," she interrupted, crossing the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.
Jason huffed in a way she knew meant he was holding back another laugh. "Exactly." He paused and sighed as if he was on the cusp of saying something more. "Anyway, gotta go. Drink more water. G'night."
An ache of sorrow rippled through her at his parting words, the pretzel-shaped knot in her guts tightening. "Good night, Jay."
An abrupt click and the audio connection linking them was severed.
Sabine lowered her cell phone and spun it in her hand.
Her apartment was dead silent except for CEO's tail thumping against the windowsill as he watched for signs of Gotham's small pests through the glass. The room suddenly felt emptier with the absence of Jason's voice babbling away in her ear.
For a while now, something was slowly growing inside of her. Each of their conversations watered it. Every exchanged bump or nudge was the sunshine that nourished it. All the shared gazes and laughter prompted the roots to spread out, with each thin fibrous tendril wrapping tightly around her bones and burrowing into her essence.
And she was troubled by it as if she didn't have enough weighing on her mind.
He's just being nice—that pesky voice of reason that approached everything logically in her mind whispered.
And it was nice to have a friend, someone who cared and whose company could be enjoyed. Someone who gave a shit if you were having a hard time. It had been too long since she had that.
She hadn't made a friend outside of college in, what, years? She and Jason didn't have the common threads of classes, coursework, and late-night study sessions binding them together. They bonded over bad-to-mediocre coffee and diner food at odd hours. They both had a fair share of skeletons in their closest too, rough childhoods and absent or dead parents; a helluva club to belong to at such a young age.
But this was turning into something more than she anticipated. Like a tree, it was growing, or the petals of a flower unfurling in the spring.
She wasn't just imagining it…
…right?
A revelation had mercilessly haunted her since she caught herself gawking at him in the grocery store when he too thoughtfully looked over the selection of chicken breasts, and the second time when he was in her kitchenette whipping up a meal for them wouldn't leave her head: Jason was…attractive.
It was hard not to notice those strong arms and the shape of those thighs. Or the gravel in his voice, deep and rich, like warm caramel. That fluff of black hair with those one or two persistent curls that always fell on his forehead. And those intense green eyes that shined.
Oh, how she tried not to think about all those things the past few days.
And why was she only noticing this now after knowing him for several months? Especially after digging up information on his identity, his past, and his undead state of being. She should be wary of him, not more…intrigued.
Each dismissal only made her want to prod him more to see what secrets he'd let slip through his lips.
It was hard not to scour the internet for every scrap of information on Jason Peter Todd, but she resisted the urge after her initial search out of respect for his privacy. He was protective over certain topics, like family and work.
His bravado and loudmouth were mostly a front, making people feel like they knew him when there were hidden depths to his character. Calculating and perceptive. There was always a rough, jagged edge to him. Dangerous.
Jason was a tightly closed diary, one of those you fancied at the bookstore with a lock wrapped around its edge, and only he had the key. It was infuriating at times.
What other secrets was he hiding?
If she kept wiggling her way into his life, maybe, one day, he'd share them with her. Although what she sincerely wanted was to take a sledgehammer to the wall he built up around himself and smash it to a thousand pieces.
What made him happy?
What made him tick?
What other things was he good at besides cooking?
What was his favorite sandwich from Sal's Bodega?
The copy of Pride & Prejudice she'd borrowed from the library sat in disturbed on the low coffee table, a colorful post-it note peeking out between the pages, several chapters from the end. She was struggling to bring herself to finish it, not because she didn't enjoy it, she did, but because she wanted to savor every word and every crafted paragraph. It was one of the few things that let her know Jason on a deeper, more intimate level. He'd even given his blessing…more or less.
Sabine tore off a large bite of her sandwich between her teeth and chewed before taking a sip of water. She planted herself on the chair at her kitchen table with her laptop opened, piles of books, and several stacked notebooks beside it, purposely directing her energy and attention elsewhere.
9:15 PM
Jason was almost in full gear by the time he hung up. Guns cleaned and polished, and slotted in their holsters at his sides. An arsenal of blades, extra bullets, and a dozen other small gadgets hidden in the pockets lining the inside of his jacket. Leather boots were shiny and conditioned from the balm he rubbed on them, and tightly laced up.
He plugged his phone into the charger by his nightstand before standing up and stretching his arms back and over his head one at a time.
Cracking his knuckles and lost in thought, Jason's mind ambled into treacherous daydream territory. What would it be like to slowly wake up next to someone in the soft morning light and then walk hand-in-hand to Sal's Bodega for breakfast sandwiches? It unearthed a sickly sweet feeling inside of him, one that bordered on...
Fuck. Don't go there.
Jason snapped himself out of it, picked up his red helmet, and shoved it over his head.
He couldn't spend time thinking about warm and fuzzy what-ifs before patrol. He wasn't exactly the poster boy for happy and healthy relationships, either.
In his buzzed haze a few nights ago, he'd decided to just let things be. It was a tough pill to swallow because, realistically, he didn't have much to offer anyone even if he wanted to. Stability was a no, reliability was a no, and availability was a big fat no.
Besides, how did Sabine feel? There was something there…
…right?
Nope, don't go there.
He pushed it down again and remembered he had a detailed file on her stashed away in the cabinet under his desk like some sort of creep.
Shit, if she ever found out—
No, no, no.
Focus.
Throwing open his window, the wind greeted him and howled around his helmet. He stepped one foot out onto the ledge and shook his head, trying to empty it like a piggy bank.
Punching people during that night that bled into the early morning hours doesn't make the ache wedged between his ribs go away, but it proved a temporary distraction. Like a bandaid, holding back a flood.
3:10 PM, Saturday—Gotham University Library
Sabine sat nestled at a study table with two of her classmates, Theo and Paloma. On the fourth chair, a maroon peacoat was thrown over its back, indicating that its occupant would be back shortly.
The Gotham University Library was advertised to incoming freshmen as "newly renovated", meaning they simply closed it for the summer and slapped a few new coats of paint on the exterior and interior walls, and put a coffee shop and small convenience store on the first floor by the long check out desk. Students joked that their tuition was wasted on the meager upgrade, but come finals week no one complained about the easy access to much-needed caffeine and junk food.
With white walls and a grand rectangular archway at its entrance composed of windows and tall columns coated in ivy, the university's library stood out against the surrounding gothic spires and oppressive skyscrapers that were prominent in Gotham.
During the week before and of finals, the building was crammed with students, some even opting to sleep between the stacks or sagging into chairs so they didn't lose their spot.
Theo, luckily, managed to nab them a table, perfect for their group of four, by one of the large windows.
"Does anyone have the PowerPoint slides from the lecture on chapter ten?" Paloma asked, frantically leafing through a thick stack of paper.
Theo held up a thin packet and slid it across the table crowded with laptops, pens, textbooks, and paper. "I got you."
"Do you mind if I take pictures of it?"
He shrugged. "Go for it. I'd say we scan it but…," his dark eyes flicked over to the packed computer stations across the room.
Paloma was already leaning over the table, taking pictures of each page with her phone. "Yeah, it's a madhouse in here," she said, sitting back down. "Thanks."
Despite their proximity, Sabine was mentally miles away, orbiting planets in outer space. Ever since she woke up that morning, a sinister feeling clung to the edges of her mind. Its long nails dug in, giving way to flashes of paranoia.
Something feels off—no, it feels like something bad was about to happen at any moment.
The worry sunk into the pit of her intestines, viciously curling into itself. Nausea and acid sloshed in her stomach, geysering up her throat. She felt sick and clammy.
Maybe it was the expired cheese?
Perhaps Sal's Bodega did her dirty, betrayed her. Maybe she shouldn't have had the second half for breakfast…
Avery appeared from the elevator near their table. Her ash brown hair was tied up in a messy bun, and a cup holder tray containing four coffees was in her hands.
"The line downstairs was absolutely monstrous," Avery quipped as she slid into a vacant chair and placed the carrier on the table. "Wraps around the column next to the computer stations and goes back to the bathroom."
Within a moment, Avery planted a steaming cup of coffee in front of Sabine. While Sabine was thankful, the bitter smell made her nose twitch and sent another shock of nausea straight to her guts.
Hastily, Sabine stood up, pushing her chair away from the table. "I'm gonna take a bathroom break, be right back."
Theo mumbled his acknowledgment while Avery took an experimental sip of her hot coffee while thumbing through a textbook, bobbing her head to signal that she'd heard as well. Paloma smiled up at her before whipping several colorful highlighters out of her pencil case.
Sabine peeled herself off the chair and walked down the room, holding her stomach, past other occupied tables and shelves and shelves of books. Cold dread enveloped her as she crossed the expansive area into a side hallway towards the restrooms.
The claustrophobic hall was deserted, and the empty liminal space stretched on and on, longer than she remembered.
Sticking her arm out, she pushed through the door. A rush of vertigo to her head almost sent her sprawling on the floor. Her hands gripped the rim of a sink, steadying herself. Weakly, she splashed water on her face.
And that's when she heard it, the loud and rhythmic thoom, thoom behind her. Air being pushed under wings. Flapping. A whiff of rotten eggs, sulfur, and smoke tickled her nostrils.
Body rigid except for her ragged breathing, she reluctantly dragged her tired eyes up to the mirror and pulse quickening.
The reflection revealed to her a distorted world, floating ash and decay cluttering the air, and a dark impenetrable shadow, monstrous and tall, spreading its leathery wings. And at the top of all the inky blackness, two glowing orbs above a gaping maw, looking at her, piercing her.
She whirled around, footing lost in the panic and her legs shooting out from under her on the squeaky tile, rear-end slamming onto the floor and sending the worst ripple of pain shooting up her spine.
Her vision tunneled, head light. She felt her consciousness start to drift far away…
"Hey, are you okay?"
There was pressure clamping down on her shoulder, shaking her gently.
"Are you okay?" The source of the voice came again, breaking through like sunlight during a storm.
Roused from the horrific hallucination, Sabine readjusted to her surroundings. Blinking once, twice. The off-white walls and sinks came back into focus.
What the hell?
Sabine found herself slumped on the floor and palms planted behind her to support her weight. She pitched forward, forearms on her knees. The oh-no-I-might-puke sickness nested inside her was gone, replaced with near-dead exhaustion.
Her vision of the room was partly obscured by the concerned hovering of a young woman with a loose purple sweater, dark leggings, and blonde hair.
So much purple.
Bent over with hands on her knees and eyebrows bunched in consideration, the young blonde woman asked, "Are you okay? You almost passed out."
Sabine touched the smooth tile with her fingertips, anchoring herself to sensations she recognized.
Tile. Sleek and cold. Her index finger skimmed over one that had a tiny crack in its edge. The smell of soap. Sweetly synthetic. Honey almond, perhaps. The sound of water dripping from a faucet and splashing against hard enamel. Drip, drip, drip.
Sabine's fingers slid down towards her thighs, finding the hem of her knitted cardigan and rubbing the threads. Cotton. Knitted. A little coarse and squishy.
"I think I'm fine, just dizzy," Sabine choked out. Her legs quaked like they were composed of jelly, she didn't know if she could stand up just yet.
Breathe in, breathe out. Sabine's heart struggled to settle as it ricocheted around the inside of her ribcage.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Then there was a screech of metal and the sound of something bursting. The cross handles on all the sinks turned wildly, spinning endlessly. Water gushed out, quickly filling the basins and overflowing onto the floor.
"Holy crap!" the blonde yelped as water immersed the tile, pooling around her purple sneakers.
Arm threaded behind her back and lodged under her shoulder, the woman hauled Sabine's immobile body out and onto the carpeted hallway.
It all happened so fast. Sabine regained some composure just in time for both of them to explain to the library's supervisor and on-site maintenance staff who came running over what had just occurred. It sounded like a tall tale, but the blonde woman with her arms folded in front of her chest and a fast mouth had a way of convincing people.
A few minutes later, a strip of caution tape across the door, and a wet floor sign in front of the bathroom door, Sabine hobbled back over to her study group, sheet white.
Paloma and Avery were too wrapped up in a debate over a case law from a lecture months ago to notice, but Theo scribbled on a page in his notebook and flipped it towards her, pointing at each word with his pen: You okay?
Between swallows, Sabine picked up a mechanical pencil and clicked the eraser. Everyone was asking that lately.
Underneath his writing, she wrote back: Yeah, just can't wait for this week to be over, you know?
Just several more days until a month of freedom and her sanity was threadbare, barely hanging on.
Fucking hell, she needed a break.
8:10 PM—Wayne Manor
Alfred minded the saucepan of melting caramel as Jason whisked the pan of shiny white macaron shells speckled with little dark bits of tea leaves out of the oven, setting them on the counter to start cooling down. If they had more time, both would have preferred to store the shells overnight before filling them. However, it was rare for the manor to be empty and Jason intended to take full advantage of the opportunity to bake with Alfred.
Best to make the shells and fillings in one go then wait until who-knows-when he'd be back at the manor to finish them off. Long periods together were a precious luxury.
"Will you be taking some for your friend as well?" Alfred inquired as he turned off the flame under the pan, adding heavy cream to the mixture and stirring the heated sugary concoction.
"Not sure if Roy's palette can handle Earl Grey and salted caramel," Jason scoffed, transferring the macaron shells to a wire rack, "he has the taste buds of a five-year-old. He'd probably just lick the filling out."
The truth was that he just didn't feel like sharing, except maybe with…
His phone which was playing music as they baked rumbled at the spot he'd set it on the kitchen island. Throwing a glance in the screen's direction, several short and direct texts from Babs illuminated the screen.
(8:15)
Barbara: Body found in Burnside condo around 18:30 today. Read this.
What followed was a series of screenshots of a preliminary police report or the start of one.
Jason wiped the remnants of almond flour off his hands. He used his newly clean fingers to enlarge the text on the document, and a handful of phrases and words jumped out at him:
-Carla Rocha, female, age 48
-discovered by daughter
-no signs of entry or struggle by the victim
-manner of death consistent with Alek Storrison and Marie Leblanc
It was impressive how quickly Babs could get her hands on information
(8:16)
Barbara: Name sound familiar to you?
Jason's mouth twisted as he repeated the name over and over in his head. What the hell was Babs getting at?
Carla Rocha, Carla Rocha…
He couldn't place the name until he could and his head slumped forward—Carla Rocha. Bachelor of the Arts in Social Work. Doctorate in Psychology. Adjunct professor at Gotham University. Single mother of two. And Sabine's psychologist.
He couldn't contain the grimace that marked his face.
Shit. Another one.
Panic gnashed at his heart, tearing it raw and making his pulse drum in his ears.
It took every ounce of his control to not tear out of the kitchen then and there, to rush to his bike in the driveway, and roar off into the evening. He simmered on his nerves, rejecting his rash predilections and not wanting to make a scene.
Jason pushed his hair back with a hand and exhaled moodily, trying (and failing) to temporarily shut down his raging emotions.
He exchanged a dejected look with Alfred who had quirked a white brow at the younger man, not out of interest but because he knew what was coming.
"Sorry, Alf," Jason apologized, running his hands under the sink to wash them. "You know how this stuff goes."
Alfred nodded, all too understanding. "Shall I box some up and save them for you?"
Jason smiled, a stab of pain showing through. "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks." He honestly didn't know when he'd be back, but the thought was lovely.
Pocketing his phone, Jason jogged out of the manor, the shadows of a plan already taking shape in his mind. He knew police procedure like he knew every street and alley in Gotham, intimately. They'd take Dr. Rocha's body to the morgue to be examined—not that they'd find anything new—where it would be for several days before being released to the family.
That left him with a limited window to act.
He'd have to hurry, he'd have to get there tonight.
And he hated that he'd have to drag Sabine into it, again.
A/N: Thank you for your patience between updates! seasonal allergies, the flu, migraines, unexpected vet bills, and car problems have been kicking my ass :'(
Also, I am not too familiar with police procedure (obviously), so I'm taking some creative licensing with this chapter and the next.
Thank you for the lovely comments last chapter. Even though I write almost nothing but slow burn romance I feel like pining and feelings are so damn hard to write! (And the urge to retroactively edit in Jason's white streak is currently chokeslamming me, aahhh)
Thanks for reading, catch ya'll next update! :)