some light breaking and entering takes an unexpected turn
C/W: Mentions of death, dead bodies, and other morbid stuff.
Chapter 24 of What's Up, Danger?: Something Wicked This Way Comes
10:45 PM
On Jason's—Red Hood's—motorcycle, they rocketed through the streets, driving past tall buildings and street lamps lined with dazzling holiday lights. Everything streaked by in an incandescent blur: reds, blues, yellows, greens.
She pressed into his shoulder blades as he leaned into a sharp turn that made her stomach flip. Inhaling deeply, she noted that Red Hood smelled like tropical hibiscus, the body mist she kept in her bathroom. The sweat-talk must've gotten to him.
It was snowing by the time they reached their destination. The stone steps going up to the double-door entrance of the several-storied brick structure was blanketed in a thin layer of undisturbed powder, freshly fallen. Most of the windows were dark, black mirrors of glass, reflecting the festive city lights. Small, jagged icicles clung to the white channel lettering affixed to the exterior of the building: GOTHAM CITY MEDICAL EXAMINER'S OFFICE.
Dismounting his motorcycle, Red Hood yanked the hood on Sabine's peacoat up and over her head. Reaching into a jacket pocket, he revealed a spare domino mask just for her.
She shot him a questioning look.
"Cameras," he said simply.
"Oh. Right."
She felt silly as she pushed and flattened the dark mask along the curvature of her upper face. The flimsy but surprisingly adhesive black mask covered her brow and the bridge of her nose. Concealing her identity was a factor she hadn't considered and it seemed so obvious now. A domino mask wouldn't fool anyone she knew personally up close, but someone watching through fuzzy CCTV camera footage would have trouble discerning any of her identifiable features.
Red Hood took the lead, hugging the shadows of the building as Sabine closely tailed him. The first spike of adrenaline hit her as they ducked behind a tall hedge, avoiding a security guard, and her heart lurched up her throat.
She was a law student at Gotham University…and they were going to break into a city building. Hell, if they got caught—she couldn't help but linger over the potential and dire consequences. Her future would be ruined, six feet under before it even started.
He stopped in his tracks after they rounded a corner and studied the side of the building. Sabine, so lost in her head, almost bumped into him.
"Shit, sorry—"
Red Hood hardly seemed to notice the near-collision as he unholstered his grappling hook.
Somehow even more apprehensive than before, Sabine eyed the device. Wetting her lips, she piped up, "Uh, what are you doing?"
He paused, head flopping to the side as he looked down at her. "You didn't think we were just gonna waltz through the front door, did ya?" When she averted her gaze and didn't respond, clearly embarrassed, he chuckled and mumbled, "Adorable."
Red Hood examined the window ledges, aiming with the device in his hand. He pulled the trigger and a surge of thick cable shot out and up. The bolt latched onto the frame just above the third-story window. A hard tug on his end of the line confirmed that the bolt was securely in place.
He wrapped a strong arm around Sabine's torso, locking her tightly into his side.
"Arms around me, Donuts," he said.
She complied, standing on her tiptoes to reach her arms over his shoulders. She wearily eyed the length of the cable. Her hands locked together behind his neck as a gut-twisting realization dawned on her. "Wait, we're not—"
Within seconds, multiple things happened.
Without warning, her feet lifted off the ground in a dizzying gravity-defying rush as the cable jerked them upwards. Terrified at the loss of solid foundation under her feet, she yelped. The strangled noise that tore from her mouth was lost in the loud rush of air whooshing around them as they rapidly ascended.
Moments later, she teetered on a window ledge. Several inches of stone outcropping was all that separated them from plummeting to the ground to grave injury or death.
Somehow it was even colder up there, and the wind whistled in her ears.
She gulped. This was fine, this was fine—
Sabine almost pitched forward from vertigo, but Red Hood kept his arm securely around her, steadying her against the brick wall as he retracted the rest of the cable.
"Easy there," Red Hood said, arm reassuringly braced around her waist, "a little late to say don't look down, but, uh, don't look down."
"Yeah," Sabine mumbled, terrified and unable to pry her shocked eyes away from the frostbitten sidewalk looming beneath them, "a little late for that."
He turned his attention to the window, working the lock with his free hand and a small tool she couldn't see.
It occurred to her that the fact that he was so easily able to keep her pinned against the building with one hand and work the window with the other was impressive. He's more than just good at this. Practiced. Knows exactly what to do like he's done it thousands of times. It didn't stop her from shaking like a leaf, but it eased her anxiety.
Finally, the large window frame rattled and creaked as Red Hood pushed it up.
He hurriedly ducked through the window, guiding her in after him with a firm grip on her hand. Once her feet were on the floor, he moved to shut the window.
Sabine almost dropped to the floor to kiss the tessellating tile under her scuffed boots, thankful to not be wobbling on a dangerous ledge any longer. Solid ground! Beautiful, wonderful solid ground!
Her vision slowly adjusted to the darkness, taking in the dark shadows and shapes haunting her peripherals in what appeared to be an office. Not thinking, she reached for a light switch.
Red Hood stopped her, snatching her hand in midair. He gave a stern shake of his head. "No lights," he warned.
Instead, he took out a small flashlight, no longer than a finger. Turning it on, it emitted a tiny and focused beam of light. He used it to peruse a clipboard on a desk, flipping through the paperwork until he found the report he wanted.
"Shouldn't we take a picture or scan it or something?" Sabine asked, eyes moving about the room.
He placed the clipboard back down and tapped his helmet. "Nope, got it."
She stared curiously at the white slits in his helmet. Was…was there a camera in the lenses?
Red Hood then rifled through some of the desk drawers, searching for something while Sabine stood uselessly in the center of the room. She plucked at her cuticles as she futilely tried to cage her ever-increasing anxiety.
"Yesss," he whispered triumphantly as he fished out a key ring and lightly jangled it at her. "Okay, let's move."
He walked over to the office door with a frosted glass window and slowly cracked it open. Sticking his head out, it swiveled from side to side, monitoring the hallway. Deeming the coast was clear, he beckoned for Sabine to follow him.
She kept on him like a shadow, one hand gripping the bottom of his jacket like it was glued there. Jittery nerves roused inside of her again. How the hell could he do all of this so calmly?
They sneaked down the hallway and crossed it to another door. Red Hood quietly unlocked the door with a key. He ushered her through before closing it behind them.
The moment they were through the threshold, Sabine felt an icy chill spread over her neck. Hair raised along her skin.
A large wall of refrigerated cabinets greeted them, in addition to a life-sized skeleton model, several long tables, standing scales, sinks, tubing…
This is where they examine dead bodies, Sabine thought dreadfully with a shiver. She was beyond thankful that the tools—the bone saws, forceps, and scalpels—had been put away, out of plain sight.
So much death congregated here, victims of senseless violence and souls unable to rest. Her insides congealed into a gummy, cold mess just dwelling on it.
Red Hood's gloved index finger traced along the various number labels on the outside of the cabinet doors, seemingly not affected by the same macabre devilry that plagued her.
Finally, his hand closed around a handle and his gaze veered downwards, settling on Sabine. "You ready?"
Sabine's mouth was desert dry, the moment too intense and overwhelming, and still too much in shock to feel the pain of loss. But she couldn't back out now, they'd come this far.
It took her several, long seconds to answer him. "I just…I need a minute," she breathed, pulse skipping as she put both of her palms over her heart, "can I close my eyes or something? I don't wanna see…"
"Yeah, it's fine," he said calmly, "whatever you need, take your time."
She breathed in and out. Her shallow breaths turned into greedy, lung-filling gulps before expelling the air back out. Panic fizzled just under her skin and it burned her throat. She couldn't push everything down, but she tried like hell to.
"Ready?" he asked again, observing the restrained tension on her face.
"No," she answered honestly but a flicker of resolve lit up her eyes, "but…we're here, so…might as well get it over with."
"Close your eyes."
She faltered. "No, I should keep them open so I can remember why I'm doing this, why we're here."
Red Hood fidgeted at her words, taken back. "You sure?"
Grimly, she nodded.
With no more hesitation and a pull, the door flung open and a stainless steel rack rolled out with the body of Carla Rocha on it.
Awful. Twisted. Mangled. Sucked dry. Lifeless.
Sabine's legs shook and a weak sob escaped her. It was impossible to wall off the amount of guilt that wrecked her heart.
It took all of her nerve and inner strength just to lift her hand. Internally, she reminded herself why they were there and what they were trying to accomplish. Any little thing she could glean might help, might save a life.
She hated her 'gift'. She fucking loathed it. But if there was even a slim chance it could help, that she could get a glimpse of what they were up against behind the curtain of death, she needed to tightly seize it and not let it slip out of her grasp.
Sabine felt Red Hood's watchful eyes on her as her fingertips grazed Carla's gnarled remains.
It happened so fast, the flood of images burning into her mind—
A creature with wings, tall, imposing, deadly. It screeched a horrible symphony. Corroded flesh melted and dripped off its skeletal frame. It soared through the night sky, above the tall skyscrapers and over the harbor.
Then the monstrous silhouette dove, wings tucked in as it swan dived. Lower and lower, into underground tunnels. Sewers. The beast cut through passageways and tight corners until the dark walls opened up into high arched ceilings. Catacombs and cravings illuminated by flickering candlelight. Bones littered the ground. Skulls mounted the walls, their empty sockets staring.
The creature's wings spread, unfurling its threatening wingspan as it spun around. Death and horror incarnate. Flaming red eyes bore into hers and its terrible black lips snarled—
Sabine gasped, dropping her hand to sever the connection, and nearly collapsed to the floor. Red Hood caught her in his arms and propped her up.
Eyes wild and scared, she fumbled for words, "Holy shit, holy shit—"
"What? What did you see?" he pressed urgently.
"Jay—Red, is there…" she swallowed, heart slamming furiously inside her ribcage, "…are there tunnels under the city? Catacombs?"
Slowly, his head bobbed, "Yeah, why?"
"I think…I think it lives down there."
"It?"
Before Sabine had a chance to elaborate, the freezer cabinets rumbled and the room filled with an alarming cacophony of fists banging against metal. The air inside shifted for the worse. The unforgiving odor of sulfur tingled her nostrils.
Cold digits wrapped around Sabine's exposed hand. Her eyes fearfully slanted back down to Carla's body and she screamed when she witnessed it convulse. Carla's mutilated hand tugged at her wrist and a hoarse shriek erupted from her withered mouth.
Sabine ripped her hand away and stumbled backward into Red Hood.
The scrape of metal permeated Jason's mind, tunneling deep into his memories and paralyzing him. The shine of the crowbar, the sound of it dragging on the ground towards him…blood—his blood—dripping from its forked end…
Carla's body jerked and the limbs writhed. The flailing corpse rolled towards Sabine on the rack.
The other cabinet doors burst open. Bodies emerged, clawing their way out of cold storage.
Pulse racing, Sabine tried to shake the vigilante back to his senses. "Red," she pleaded, "we have to go now. Please! Red?"
Red Hood blinked under the helmet, mind hauled back into the present by Sabine's cries. Reacting to the horror show in front of them, he shoved Sabine behind him as a dozen corpses staggered to their feet.
One with its head and chest riddled with bullet holes lunged forward.
A gun blast sent it flailing back against a table. A wisp of hot smoke rose from the muzzle of Red Hood's raised handgun.
"At least the movies got something right about headshots," —the corpse with the sizzling rubber bullet embedded in its forehead clamored back to its feet—, "Well, shit."
In a heel turn, Red Hood switched his priorities from fighting their way out to running. A dozen of these monsters in a cramped room? Better to run than fight. He couldn't keep Sabine safe from multiple attackers in a room with hardly any cover and only one way in and out.
Another reanimated body closed in from the side and Sabine picked up a nearby stool and swung it. The bones in its neck snapped, its head horrifically twisted to the side. Several teeth flew out of its mouth and skittered across the floor, but the impact alone wasn't enough to stop it.
"Can we go now?" Sabine cried, dropping the stool.
"Yup, we're outta here," Red Hood said, clutching her wrist.
Making sure Sabine was behind him every step of the way, they bolted past countless grabbing hands, and slammed the door. Hands pounded on the other side. Even with the door locked, Red Hood was certain it was only a matter of time before they forced it open.
The wood splintered and gave way in a matter of seconds.
He really hated being right.
Whatever sinister force had animated their carcasses also had the audacity to give them a gnarly strength power up as well. Great.
Pale dead arms shot out of the split door, wildly groping the air. Guttural moans echoed off the walls, creating a revolting symphony of inhuman noises.
"Shit," Red Hood growled as he tugged Sabine down the hallway, away from the staggering undead that pursued them, "C'mon, we have to keep moving."
Without looking back, they ran.
It had stopped snowing outside and the moon dipped behind the clouds. Their scurried trail of boot steps led to a narrow corridor between buildings where they hid.
Fleeing the scene had attracted the attention of several security guards who, in the end, couldn't be assed to chase them down once they eyeballed Red Hood recklessly catapulting himself out of a third story window. They had enough sense to know not to get in the vigilante's way.
Sabine panted as she anchored herself against an alley wall for stability. Her legs throbbed from running. She hadn't banked on an explosion of cardio being part of the night's misadventure. Her cheeks prickled in the cold, but it was nothing compared to the way the frigid air seared her lungs with each desperate inhale.
In the hazy gloom of the alley, Jason ripped off of his helmet, breathing hard through his mouth and nose. His critical eyes roamed over Sabine, madly checking for any visible injuries. Relief filled him to the brim when he realized she was completely unscathed. Winded, yes, but unharmed.
Fuck, if she'd been hurt because he hesitated, because of some stupid flashback…Guilt, raw and visceral, stabbed at his heart. His hands balled into fists at his sides. Well, that could've gone better.
Catching her breath, Sabine threw herself against her friend's chest. Her body trembled with every sob, her spirit in tatters.
Jason's arms enveloped her, cradling her head and spine. His chin rested on top of her hoodie. He couldn't think of what to say to console her, so he hugged her as it snowed. His heart ached and he didn't know how the hell he was ever going to let go of her.
"Let's get out of here," he whispered, sweeping his palm up her back.
She sniffed, snot unceremoniously dripping out of her nose as her eyes watered. She knew she sounded pathetic when she said, "I don't want to be alone."
His mind battled with indecision and his hug crushed her. He was weak against her fretful state. "Do you wanna stay with me?"
Sabine swallowed nervously. "Is…is that okay?"
Jason's gravelly voice raised an octave, heart stampeding at the notion even though he had made the offer. "Yeah, of course it is."
12:10 AM, Sunday
Jason's apartment, or 'safe house' as he insisted on calling it multiple times, was warm and brightly lit.
Of course, he possessed some reservations about his decision, but as soon as they arrived at his place he was certain he'd made the right call. Though he couldn't deny that a sliver of his feelings wanted to keep her close by for selfish reasons.
Sabine was too exhausted to take in what would have been under normal circumstances a marvelous revelation as Jason let her step into his world—his home, his haven.
Stealing disoriented glances around his apartment, she saw the swords, daggers, and guns mounted on the walls. Really? A large tire embellished with a bat symbol on the rim. So he had been telling the truth about car-jacking Batman? A corner of the room was dedicated office space. Two monitors with several short filing cabinets underneath a wide desk. A corkboard with photos, articles, and various scrawled notes pinned to it. Everything was neat and tidy with a hard edge, and so very Jason.
He offered her the shower first after scrounging a spare set of clothes for her from the dresser in his bedroom and a towel.
Jason heard the spray of water in the shower when she turned it on. The constant stream was a nice backdrop of white noise for him as he removed his gear: the helmet, the gloves, the jacket, and kicked off the boots. He'd have to spot-clean the leather jacket and mend the new hole growing in the side, but the pants and socks could go in the wash. He unclipped the holsters and straps around his thighs, setting those on his makeshift workbench.
He collapsed onto the couch in his dark gray thermals and undershirt. It took longer than usual for his adrenaline to taper, the fiery energy lingering in his veins. Head in his hands, he huffed, irritated at himself.
Several minutes ticked by of anxious waiting and foot tapping until Sabine slipped next to him on the couch, swathed in his black 'The Re-animator' movie shirt, a pair of his sweatpants that were much too large for her, and a towel wrapped around her wet hair.
"Shower's free," she said quietly, "thanks for letting me use it…and for the change in clothes."
Seeing her in his clothes stirred something in his chest, primal and possessive. He'd seen countless people wearing a simple tee and sweatpants before, it was nothing new or groundbreaking, but somehow on her, the sight verged on mesmerizing.
Jason nodded, trying to refocus his thoughts on something other than how good she looked in his clothes. Now wasn't the time for his idiotic hormones to bubble up.
She was here with him. She was safe with him. That's what mattered, not how adorable she looked in his sleepwear.
"No problem." A strained beat of silence passed before he cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, gonna shower now too, okay? Will you be fine out here by yourself for a bit?"
She turned her head and her brown eyes met his. God, she looked so out of it. Wrecked. Numb.
"Yeah, I'll be okay." Even her voice sounded vacant.
Jason bit down on his lower lip as he reluctantly got up. He didn't know what else to say, he wasn't good at this 'after-care' part. 'Sorry your therapist bit the dust and I dragged you to the morgue where we got attacked by zombies' didn't seem to cut it as far as consoling went.
In his bedroom, he stripped off the rest of his clothes. Grabbing their dirty clothes, he tossed their used laundry into the washing machine. Towel around his waist, he stepped into the bathroom for his turn to shower.
Ten minutes later, Jason emerged from the bathroom with his face flushed from the steam, wearing a red ringer tee and dark blue sweatpants. He tousled his wet mess of hair with a towel and sat next to her, his weight sagging into the cushions. Not even feeling squeaky clean could wash away the ickiness of the night much to his dissatisfaction.
Sabine hadn't moved from the couch. She sat up with her knees up against her chest and eyes staring out in an otherworldly trance.
"How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, knowing it was a loaded question.
With the surprise dead uprising, they hadn't had much time or energy to talk. The journey on his bike back to his place had been silent as the grave.
Sabine shrugged, unclenching her jaw. Some color returned to her pallid face. "Okay, I guess, all things considered." She blew out a dramatic puff of air, head resting back against the couch. "Just…processing, taking it all in. Are your nights usually this eventful?"
It was Jason's turn to shrug. "Sometimes."
Her response to that was a flat hum as her brows pinched together, disturbed by, well, everything. Who knew that one single night could be so draining? Next to Jason, her sense of safety swelled bit by bit but not enough to quell her restlessness.
Bleary eyed and seeking a topic shift because they were at the end of their rope as far as productivity went, Jason said, "I'm beat and you probably are too. You can take my bed. Get some shut-eye."
Her head snapped in his direction. "What? But that's yours," she argued.
"You're a guest, it's fine. A night on the couch isn't gonna kill me. We'll talk more in the morning, or afternoon, depending on how hard we pass out."
Sabine pursed her lips and slumped down, not wanting to argue over sleeping arrangements when she was strung out. Exhaustion gnawed at her limbs, begging for slumber, but her mind was wide awake.
She frowned. "I'm dead tired, but I don't know if I can sleep yet. You know?"
"Yeah…" he agreed. His green eyes roamed around the room before landing on one of his gaming consoles. "Hey, I have an idea—"
Sabine groaned and rubbed her forehead. "Not another one, please. I'm done for tonight."
A short bark of a laugh escaped him. "No, wait listen, Roy keeps bugging me to play this farming sim with him—"
Sabine groggily tilted her head. "Roy?"
"My friend," he said, then added, "best friend. Uh, he says the game's supposed to be good for unwinding and relaxing." He grabbed the pair of controllers off of the coffee table in front of the television and offered one to her.
Roy. Whatever barrier Jason had up was crumbling down that night in such a weird turn of events, revealing bits and pieces of his life to her when he'd been so stingy with the details before. She wanted to soak in another Jason Todd fact voluntarily given, but she wasn't sure she could process much more than a name.
She took the controller and looked down at the buttons under her thumbs, getting a feel for it by twirling the d-pad.
"I'm not much of a gamer," she admitted, "I think the last thing I played was one of the Ace Attorney games…"
"Oh, wait—" Jason padded over to a closet and whipped out a huge and fluffy blanket. He returned to the couch after dimming the lights and tossed the blanket over their legs. "If we're gonna play video games until we pass out, might as well get cozy."
He had dimmed the lights enough that the room was bathed in a cozy dark orange glow. Edges of golden light framed Sabine's shoulders as she pulled the blanket up her lap.
She tucked her legs to the side to give Jason more room and propped up some throw pillows behind her back. Fatigue dragged heavily at her eyelids, but her head was making too much chaotic noise to settle down.
Jason side-eyed her as he nestled under the blanket on the opposite end of the couch, hoping that a distraction would help to eventually lull them both to sleep.
With a click of the remote, the television came to life. The gentle overture of music from the game's title screen filled the room.
Nudging Sabine's knee with his foot as the screen changed, he asked, "What should we name our farm?"
Well past the witching hour, Sabine's eyes half-cracked open when she felt the cushions violently shift.
Across from her on the couch, Jason tossed and turned, deeply afflicted by what appeared to be a fiendish nightmare. The couch rocked with each of his tortured movements. His forehead was damp with sweat as he whimpered nonsense she couldn't make out, face twisted in agony.
She scrubbed her tired eyes with a palm before leaning forward, bridging the distance between them with an outstretched hand. She hesitated, fingers close to cupping his cheek to soothe him. What if she made whatever bad dream he was suffering from worse?
Her fingers gingerly carded through his hair, skimming his forehead and hairline. So many gruesome sensations poured through his skin and curly strands into her touch as her nails gently scratched his scalp.
Blood and laughter. Red numbers on a digital clock counting down. Smoke in lungs, chest heaving.
Teeth dragging over her bottom lip, her hand slid down to his cheek and she attempted something new. Maybe the mystical connection worked both ways. Concentrating on her hand until its aura shimmered with warmth, she cherry-picked her favorite memories with Jason; awkwardly meeting in the elevator for the first time, their coffee and diner runs, the mutual teasing and small moments that made them both laugh…
Upbeat rockabilly music poured out through the jukebox speakers in a crowded, neon lit diner. The smell of rain as they stood under a bus stop. Arms around each other, his heartbeat next to her ear.
"Jay," she said, voice coated with sleepiness, "you're home, you're safe here…"
His body shifted under the blanket, turning towards her. Squinting at her through half-closed and bloodshot eyes, Jason dazedly nuzzled into her palm which sent a ripple of lava hot heat up her sternum.
"M'fine," he slurred, "thanks."
His soft pink lips grazed her wrist before his head slumped back to the side, green eyes shutting again. Peace returned to his face as he threw an arm over his head.
Sabine sat back against the pillows, unsure if she was dreaming in the ethereal orange with pink sunlight filtering in through the curtains before drifting back to sleep herself.
Sabine woke up to the smell of coffee and tangled in the blanket. After a series of slow blinks, she realized Jason wasn't occupying the couch with her. She bolted upright and her eyes frantically scoured around the room.
"Jason?" Panic laced her tone.
Footsteps from the direction of the bedroom snagged her attention and she spun around to see Jason standing in the doorway, a mug of coffee in hand.
"Hey, sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said with a yawn, "I was restless so I got up to read and put our clothes in the dryer."
Pushing her fluffy hair out of her face and calming down from the jolt to her system, Sabine muttered, "Oh, thank you. I just didn't see you there and I…sorry for freaking out a bit."
Jason joined her on the couch and pushed a second mug of coffee into her hands, "You don't need to apologize."
One of her brows popped up, eyeing the solid red, blue, and yellow stripes with a large W on the smooth ceramic surface. "Is…is this a Wonder Woman mug?"
He scoffed defensively. "Yeah, what of it?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, sipping.
Wordlessly, they drained their cups. Both mulled over the previous night, consumed by their recollections.
"So," Jason started, rubbing his chin, "catacombs, huh?"
Sabine flexed her feet and wiggled her toes under the blanket. "That's what it looked like."
"There are some passageways under the city, besides the sewers," Jason explained, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table, "officials don't like to talk about them because Gotham is weird enough as is and they don't want people exploring down there. Maybe I can find some records, though. I don't want to wander around down there blind. The library might have something in their archives, old city maps, layouts, records…I'll need to look into it."
Sabine was only half-listening, mind drifting off in another direction as she noticed the harsh sunlight outside. "What time is it?"
"Past noon—"
"Shit," she hissed, scrambling off the couch, "I have to feed my cat."
Jason huffed. "Your clothes are still in the dryer. How about I go over there, feed him, and bring back takeout?"
She folded her arms sourly. "Why can't I go?" She didn't sound happy.
"You can," he said after a hefty sigh, "but I'd rather you stay here. Just for a bit. There's sensors here, alarms, and cameras on the outside. I know it's hard to stay put—believe me, I do—"
Sabine cut in with, "I can't stay locked inside forever."
"And that's not what I'm suggesting at all," Jason continued in a sincere tone, "we just don't know what's out there right now. Could be nothing, could be more…zombies." He scowled in distaste at the word. "Let's just not tempt fate yet until we know a bit more is all I'm saying."
Her stomach clenched. She wanted to go back to the sanctuary of her own space, surrounded by all her familiar things. But Jason had an underlying point, who knew who or what was lurking outside and waiting for her? And returning to her apartment alone sounded like the worst thing in the world right now. There'd be no recourse or immediate help if something did happen. Sure, she whacked an undead goon with a stool last night, but her feeble potshot did nothing to slow the dearly departed down.
She relented with a defeated click of her tongue, trusting that Jason knew what was best. This was his area of expertise, after all. "Fine, but you need to bring back my laptop and textbooks." Then an afterthought struck her if she was possibly going to be spending a few nights here, "And clothes."
He cleared away their empty mugs, placing them in the sink. "You got it."
Jason made his way over to his desk and opened a drawer. He returned to her with a small brick of a phone in his hand.
"It's about time I give you one of these." He held up a flip phone, an older model that she hadn't seen in a decade and the kind her dad used to have one of these clipped to his belt ages ago.
Puzzled, she accepted it. "But I already have your number?"
"You have my number," he corrected with a pointed inflection, "but I don't carry my personal phone around with me when I patrol. Too risky. Personal data on it and stuff."
Sabine navigated the keypad, good grief, this thing was old, and found the contact list. Her eyebrows shot up, there were two numbers saved in there. It was easy enough to understand who 'R' was, but what about the other?
Her eyes suspiciously flitted over to Jason. "Who's 'O'?"
He threw on his red hoodie and shoved his wallet into his back pocket. "The contact you call if shit's going down and I don't respond. Or if I'm completely incapacitated and shit's hitting the fan."
He whisked a dark green duffle bag out of the hallway closet and slung it over his shoulder as she absorbed his response.
"So, last resort? Got it." Sabine let out a shaky sigh, hoping it would never come to calling whoever was on the other end of that number.
He plucked his motorcycle keys off of a hook by the door. "I'll be back soon, all right?"
Sabine slouched into herself, sudden shyness peeking through. "Can we play more of that game when you get back? It was nice."
For what felt like the first time in twenty-four hours, a smile broke over Jason's face. "Hell yeah. I'll even bust out the heated blanket if you want."
"Ohh, how fancy," she teased as he disappeared out the front door.
A/N: This is the end of 'Act II'! Coming up, Sabine is going to be making some…interesting decisions and she'll meet some old and new faces that I've been waiting a long time to include!
Thanks for reading!