Exposition dump, UNO (with stacking rules applied), and goodbyes (for now)

Note: (I'll edit this chapter more when my brain isn't Jell-o…)

Chapter 27 of What's Up, Danger: Just A Human Trying to Avoid My Certain Doom

Sabine tried to suppress the effervescent feeling that burned through her veins, but her senses heightened as the presence of magic sang out to her. The shimmering energy bled into her skin, raising the little hairs on her arms underneath her jacket.

There were many ways to describe the cocoon of otherworldly sensations that enveloped her: Warm. Soothing. Like the perfect cup of tea. Not too bitter, not too sweet. Perfect temperature, just right for sipping on a rainy day.

But she had other words in mind for the sensation as well: Unwelcome. Intrusive.

After over a decade of ignoring it, the call of magic was foreign no matter how hard it fought to feel at home inside her body. It crawled over her skin like a thousand tiny insects.

With an intrigued head tilt, Sabine echoed, "You knew I'd be back?"

Madame Xanadu continued to smile as if the answer was obvious. "I have a sense for these things. And there were some things which could not be said in front of your companion last time."

Sabine approached the counter. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, tense. "Like what?"

"Gotham City is a living, breathing beast," she answered, not breaking eye contact. "It has a heart, a soul, a desire to feed."

Sabine's demeanor worsened. Her mouth almost fell agape in awe-struck horror. "The city's…alive?"

Madame Xanadu nodded. "Not in the sense of flesh and bone as you and I, but in spirit. There is magic there, untapped. Waiting. Stored under its foundations, pumping through it like veins. Polluting it, corrupting it."

It was almost too strange, or maybe too convenient, to believe that Gotham City was dark and twisted and couldn't help being that way.

"So what you're saying is that Gotham's problems can't be helped? The city's just…cursed?" Sabine nearly threw her arms up in distress and disbelief.

"Places with people have power," Madame Xanadu went on, "and the relationship is symbiotic. Gotham feeds off the energy of the people and the people feed off the magic."

She frowned. A stubborn part of her felt vindicated because she knew magic was nothing but trouble. "And this couldn't be said in front of Red Hood? Do the others—do the other Bats know about this?"

Madame Xanadu grimly shook her head. "They would not want to believe it even if I told them. And I've tried."

Before she could stop herself, Sabine said sharply, "I'm sure even Batman believes in magic."

"Believes in it? Yes. Trusts it? No." Madame Xanadu's voice was that of a woman tried and tired. "If magic is part of the problem, then it must be part of the solution."

Sabine swallowed as a pang of fear rushed through her. "So the thing underneath the city—the creature that I saw—is it some kind of manifestation of the city's magic?"

"Very astute," Madame Xanadu replied in a professional and pleased tone.

Sabine lifted her chin. "Do you know what it is exactly?"

Madame Xanadu stilled, staring at the young woman in her shop for a long minute. "As to its exact nature and intentions, all it will let me see is that it means you and those around you harm. Tread carefully."

Something brewed in Sabine's eyes and her brows squished together. "Why hasn't anyone done anything about this before?"

"Batman is particularly touchy about the presence of magic users in his city," Madame Xanadu admonished. "I would try not to attract attention to your presence. Lay low, as some would say."

Sabine couldn't stop the uptick in volume and bite of disdain in her voice when she said, "What's he gonna do?—kick me out? I live there, it's my home, too. Gotham doesn't belong to just him."

Madame Xanadu hummed in a wry, humorless manner. "You may certainly try telling him that."

Sabine's teeth dragged over her bottom lip, scraping at the dry and chapped skin, and allowed Madame Xanadu's words to sink in. Magic. Cursed. Those words alone seemed to sap all rational thoughts from her mind.

In some perfect world, she'd never have to worry about any of this. She'd attend school in peace, obtain her law degree, and get on with her life without a hitch. She'd never have to worry about accidentally teleporting into a friend's apartment, or the ever-growing body count that followed her, or a mother who gave up on her. Her life trajectory could've—would've—been completely different.

But then she'd lose out on what she had now. She might've never known her father or her extended family of Roz and Logan in that other world. She might've never moved out of San Francisco or gone to college.

This was the hand she was dealt and it was high time she learned to deal with it.

Sabine eventually sighed, discontented by, well, everything. "I don't know, is there a Magic 101 book or something? A website or tutorial for all this…stuff?"

Madame Xanadu's laughter rang around the shop like bells and she waved a hand in the air, amused. "If I recall, you have multiple grimoires at your disposal."

Disheartened, Sabine grimaced. "I can't read them. And I just want to know enough to control it, and maybe just enough to be…helpful."

Madame Xanadu regarded her studiously. "An admirable pursuit, but I am not a teacher if that's what you're seeking."

The statement made Sabine's face fall in an instant. "But my mom…you said you sold her books, helped her get started."

"Indeed," the sorceress confirmed, jewel-toned eyes darting down and away. "Olivia was always able to see the way things truly were and it frightened her. The supernatural, ghosts, demons…some of that ability, that sensitivity, she passed onto you. However, I was not the one who was with her when her journey to self-discovery and destruction began. It was another."

Sabine's hands flattened against the glass countertop. "Then who was it? Can they help me?"

Madame Xanadu rewarded her questions with another whimsical spell of enchanting laughter. "Constantine is not a teacher either, I'm afraid."

Sabine's mouth twisted to the side at the unfamiliar name. "Who the hell is Constantine?"

"John Constantine," Madame Xanadu supplied with a wistful air in her voice, "is another sorcerer. He sought out your mother a long time ago."

"And he won't help me?"

"I did not say that," Madame Xanadu corrected, "just that he's no teacher. He is a…complicated man. He's as likely to pinch your wallet as he is to exorcise a demon."

Sabine couldn't help but wonder why the woman couldn't be more forthcoming. She clearly knew more than she let on, or maybe she acted that way. Why was pulling definitive information out of Madame Xanadu so like pulling teeth without anesthesia? Why was a con man her best lead?

Curiously, Sabine asked, "So where can I find Constantine?"

"London, usually. He moves around a bit," Madame Xanadu replied. Her green eyes glinted contemplatively in the candlelight. "Your Red Knight will certainly try to dissuade you from the journey."

It took a beat for Sabine to remember the card Jason drew when they came to the store together—the Knight of Swords. Would he try to stop her?

"He won't," Sabine said matter-of-factly. He wouldn't be happy about it, though.

Madame Xanadu's dark red lips stretched into a bemused, Cheshire-cat grin. "Oh, so you've made up your mind? You're going to seek out Constantine?"

A sheen of resolve and determination flashed in Sabine's dark eyes. "Yes."

What choice do I have?

A feather quill floated across the counter into Madame Xanadu's elegant and waiting hand from an inkwell. With it, she scrawled on a piece of parchment she produced from under the antique register.

She slid the paper across the counter once she finished. "Here, a simple guidance spell might help you pin down his location."

Sabine skimmed the loopy handwriting. The instructions seemed straightforward enough except for one detail. She pulled a long face. "This says I need something of his for this to work."

"Yes, but ownership can also be a matter of perception," Madame Xanadu clarified vaguely, "or it can be a thread that links to him. It may not be as strong, but sometimes magic requires a certain—what do you call it?—out-of-the-box thinking. Resourcefulness. Cunning. Desire. You might want to practice it, and see what works best for you."

Sabine raised both of her eyebrows. "I thought you said you weren't a teacher?"

"This isn't teaching," Madame Xanadu insisted, steepling her fingertips together, "this is guidance for a returning client. I trust it sufficed?"

"Yeah," Sabine agreed ruefully, carefully folding the piece of paper and tucking it into her breast pocket. Although, she'd hoped for more concrete answers. The notion that Gotham was a bleak well of magic was not reassuring.

Before leaving, Sabine remembered that this exchange was transactional and slipped out her wallet. She carded through the handful of wrinkled twenty-dollar bills in the pouch, wondering how much was appropriate. She settled on handing over three of them because that seemed like enough? She didn't know the price of magic.

Madame Xanadu appeared satisfied with the amount. If she wasn't, she gave no indication or hint of offense.

The sorceress's voice rang out sweetly, "Thank you again, Miss Song, for your patronage."

9: 30 PM, Thursday—Wayne Manor

Holiday celebrations at Wayne manor were opulent in every sense of the word. Alfred pulled out all the stops, as per usual. Pine garlands lined the staircase banisters, colorful string lights beckoned and winked in the grandiose windows, and the tantalizing aroma of cloves and vanilla mixed with other spices filled the air.

Bruce had attempted to corner Jason once or twice into a conversation during the festivities, but, luckily, he was typically able to barrel past him or Babs came to his rescue, sensing his impending distress.

It wasn't that Jason didn't want to be cordial or chitchat. But after Damian's warning that Bruce wanted to announce that he was indeed alive to the public, Jason felt like it was a very one-sided and misplaced attempt to patch things up. Too soon for him, even years since his resurgence.

Hell, Jason couldn't even walk down the hallway that led to his old bedroom—which he was sure they kept in a perfectly preserved state since he disappeared—without ice cold panic pumping through his veins. If he couldn't face that room, how the fuck would he handle a gala or a public appearance?

Bloated from gorging on food, a mass of them sat in a lazy circle on the giant rug in front of the blazing fireplace. With UNO cards in their hands, the gigantic festive fir tree in the living room towered over them and the several lit candles flickered in the menorah that sat on top of the mantlepiece.

Poor, poor Duke had amassed a horrifying amount of cards, completely unprepared for the stacking rule applied to the draw-two's and Wild draw-four's that they implemented.

Cassandra watched, already having won the previous round. Contentedly, she leaned into Stephanie's side.

Damian's lips were fixed in a ferocious snarl, furious that Jason and Tim had fewer cards than him. His hazel eyes burned green in the orange reflection of the roaring flames in the fireplace.

Tim sat a respectful distance away from Jason in the circle, legs crisscrossed and feet tucked under his knees. He dropped a blue number card on top of the playing pile.

Taking a sip of cocoa spiked with a shot of rum, Jason threw down a blue skip card and watched as Damian's face reddened further at the atrocity of having to miss yet another turn.

"Tch, Todd," Damian warned uselessly.

Jason leaned back on a hand and fanned himself with his three remaining cards. "Relax, spawn, it's just a game."

Stephanie nudged Duke with her big toe because it was his turn and he was preoccupied, mumbling under his breath to himself.

"Are you serious? Twenty cards and none of them blue…"

"Don't give away your hand," Damian snapped.

"Looks like you'll have to draw then," Stephanie said deviously and with an accompanying eyebrow wriggle. Her eyes darted over to the draw pile in the center.

Duke groaned and picked through the pile.

In Jason's back pocket, his phone vibrated. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes positively beamed when he read the notification banner.

(9:32)

Sabine: no demonic activity to report on this holiday-eve, unless you count little brothers…

Quickly, he texted his reply:

(9:33)

Jason: I have a similar infestation to report here.

Stephanie's voice cut through Jason's private inner thoughts. "Is that Roy?"

His head whipped in her direction and he set his phone face down on the rug. "Uh, no. Someone else."

She blinked. "Oh, you're just…kinda smiling? So I thought it was Roy," she said with a casual half-shrug.

Jason tossed back another swig of hot chocolate. "Can we just focus on the game?"

Stephanie raised a quizzical brow at him and Cass, who hardly ever missed a thing, followed suit. Jason tried not to sweat under the intensity of their eyes. A room full of detectives meant no one could mind their own damn business.

"Yes, can we focus on the game?" Damian spat, splaying his five remaining cards out in his hand under his nose in an all too serious manner. Not that he was trying to help divert attention from Jason, but his pride dictated a strong need to win.

Tim tossed a wild draw four on the top of the pile and side-eyed Jason.

Jason's lips pinched together and he glowered back. "What color?"

Tim didn't hesitate as they stared one another down. "Green."

"Hell yeah," Jason whooped, slamming down a green draw-two he had been saving.

Damian sneered as he laid down a red draw-two and looked at Duke. "Well?"

"Sorry, Steph," Duke muttered as he placed down a yellow draw-two card, continuing the stack.

Stephanie's jaw slacked open dumbly as she shuffled through her modest handful of cards. "Are you kidding me, Duke? Et tu?"

"That's ten cards, Brown," Damian stated.

Indignant, Stephanie all but shouted, "I can count!"

Whilst Damian and Stephanie shot scathing remarks back and forth, Jason picked up his phone again.

(9:35)

Jason: Speaking of holidays, I *might've* found some time to double back to NY and get you something.

(9:36)

Sabine: is it the I love NY you promised me? :)

(9:36)

Jason: Oh, crap. You remember that? Guess it's not a surprise now.

(9:38)

Sabine: I'll pretend to act surprised! ? "oohhhh whatever could it be, surely not the souvenir tee he said he might get me if i let him kidnap me"

"Todd," Damian's caustic voice snapped Jason's attention away from the screen, "stop gawking at your phone, it's your turn."

Jason glanced down at the pile and impishly played a red seven on top of Tim's yellow one. And just like that, he was down to two cards.

Damian almost yelled across the room, "Drake, you're letting him win."

Tim shrugged sheepishly, not hiding his annoyance. "Am not."

Jason used the distraction to check his phone yet again.

(9:43)

Sabine: speaking of new york…I maaaybe paid madame x another visit a few nights ago

The three dots on his screen came and went as she typed before the next batch of messages appeared in succession.

(9:44)

Sabine: and she told me there's a sorcerer who might be able to help. Have you heard of Constantine?

Sabine: I booked a flight to England to try and find him…

Jason's thoughts plummeted into a sinister place before he could stop them. The knots forming in his stomach writhed unpleasantly. He tried to contain his panic as it pierced him.

Springing up, he nearly spilled his drink. He stalked out of the room in search of privacy, phone tight in his grasp and UNO game all but forgotten.

Faintly, he heard Stephanie's voice drift after his sudden departure:

"He said he wasn't texting Roy, but who else could get him that worked up?"

Sabine knew something was amiss when Jason didn't text back straightaway. Propped up on a throne of pillows on her bed in her childhood bedroom, her fingernails tapped the back of her phone case.

She didn't want to hide anything from Jason. He'd only be suspicious, and maybe even hurt if she left for Europe without an explanation.

They were both stuck in this mess together, weren't they?

Underneath the string of fairy lights that hung loosely from the tall posts of her bed, her gaze lingered on the phone screen as she waited for a response.

Suddenly, the ringtone blared out, slicing through the tension in her room. She almost dropped her phone on her face in shock as Jason's name appeared on its glossy surface smudged with fingerprints in white text. The device continuously vibrated between her palms.

She scrubbed a hand over her forehead. Uneasy nerves chomped away at her. She hit the green accept call button and wedged the phone against her ear.

Immediately, Jason's panicked voice seeped into her eardrum, "Are you serious? Europe by yourself? To chase after some sorcerer?"

Sabine took a second to compose herself, noting the worry in his tone. "Yeah, I think it's something I need to do…" she trailed off, biting her lower lip.

She heard him sigh inwardly and imagined the concern that marred his stark features.

For all his efforts to get a handle on himself, Jason breathed shallowly, clearly upset by her plans. "Can we…can we talk about this? Not now, but when you're back in Gotham. Before you go?"

Sabine made a thoughtful noise. "Sure, we can talk about it a bit more, but—," she tried to ignore the growing lump in her throat, "—I don't think I'm going to change my mind."

The conversation lapsed into unsteady silence.

Jason couldn't mask the frustration in his tone when he spoke up again. "Fine," he gritted out with restraint, "just let me know when you're back in town." His voice was milder when he added, "Okay?"

She exhaled and considered his earnest request. "Yeah, we can talk about it then."

The phone beeped as he disconnected. She did her best to cool down, but her anxiety was a boulder hurtling down a steep hill, gaining momentum.

Were they going to argue again?

The uncertainty cast a somber cloud over the rest of her night, despite Logan's successful attempt to pull her into a game of Mario Party.

The next day, Jason woke up to a text from Sabine detailing the time and date of her upcoming flight. It was scheduled in the early morning of the upcoming Wednesday. So he had a few days time to get some prime brooding in.

He stared at the message while splayed out on his computer chair, until his hot coffee turned cold and it was well past noon. An oppressive feeling nested in his gut, bringing repressed and unhappy thoughts to the forefront.

There was a time when he'd left Gotham, slipping out from under the nose of his guardian, only to return in a coffin after his corpse had been cleaved into, post-mortem. The Y-shaped incision carved along his chest and abdomen served as a morbid reminder that there were some things that the pit hadn't scoured from his skin.

Or, maybe, some things it chose not to, he thought bleakly.

His troublesome thoughts drifted back to Sabine and her situation. His overactive and lively imagination was a curse. His mind ran wild with the thousand of things that could easily go wrong. Unspeakable horrors played out in a macabre slideshow. Death and torture. Pain and blood.

He shook his head, trying to rattle out the images.

Dismally, his attention turned to his computer screen in order to attempt to quash his worries. He hoped he was wired and bothered over nothing. His mind wasn't a kind place and he tended to assume the worst. He needed to work on that, weed out the nightmares and cultivate a more serene headspace.

He'd heard Constantine's name pop up in some of the conversations he was privy to stand on the outskirts of. The sorcerer sometimes worked with the Justice League on cases involving occult magic and was an acquaintance of Dick's friend, Zatanna. Although, word of mouth was that his morals were amorphous and flexible.

In the end, Jason harrumphed to himself because Sabine didn't even bother to extend an invitation to him. His thoughts circled back to the fact that she felt she had to do this alone.

Did she not want him after all?

He tried to banish the wisps of negativity from his mind, but caught himself checking flights more than once over the next several days.

8:30 PM, Tuesday

Jason parked his bike several blocks away from Sabine's apartment building before he made his way over, present wrapped and tucked under the crook of his arm. His overwrought nerves fired on all cylinders as hauled himself up the several flights of stairs to her apartment's landing.

Anxiously, he knocked.

The door swung open and he almost wasn't ready for the sight of her—her hair had grown out since they first met several months ago, now reaching her chin. A burgundy cardigan over a black shirt and leggings swathed her frame. The black cat slippers with little ear tufts and pink pom pom noses were an inspired choice.

"Hi," Sabine said tentatively. Peering up at him, she traced the dark bags under his eyes. She had half-expected him to show up at her window in his tactical gear. Why break routine now?

Jason gave her a sheepish smile and rocked back on his heels. "Hi."

His leather jacket was thrown over a white shirt with tiny snowflakes matted in his slicked back hair.

The atmosphere between them felt off, and he couldn't immediately pinpoint why.

"Thanks for using the door this time," Sabine said with forced cheer. She turned away and strolled back to the kitchenette to tend to the electric kettle. "Do you want tea?"

"Uh, sure," Jason said, appraising her defensive posture as he crossed the threshold into her living space. He tried to remain stoic as nervousness ravaged him. Was she expecting an argument?

He watched as she stood on her tiptoes to retrieve a second mug out of an overhead cabinet. Carefully, she poured hot water over the tea bags in the mugs. Coils of steam rose into the air and wafted over her face.

"Don't have Wonder Woman mugs," she said with an anxious twitch of her lips. "Sorry."

His tongue wet his bottom lip, nervous yet unbothered. "S'cool."

Jason stood behind her, hands hanging loosely at his sides, and wondered what he could do or say to put her at ease.

Sabine slipped her fingers around the mug handles. She lifted them off the counter and offered one to him. "Let's talk on the couch," she prompted.

He bobbed his head and accepted the mug. The ceramic radiated warmth in his palm. "Yeah. I, uh, brought you something too."

She eyed the present wrapped in shimmering gradient hues of blue, depicting a winter snowscape, and seemed embarrassed. "Oh, I didn't get you anything," she blurted out.

He shrugged causally as he followed her lead over to the couch. "S'fine. Wasn't expecting anything."

They sat down at the same time and the cushions dipped under their combined weight. After setting her mug down on the coffee table, Sabine pulled her knees in against her chest.

Jason plunked the gift and his mug down next to hers. His fingers parsed over the loose threads and cat hair on the couch. His eyes quickly surveyed the room and found a certain hairball was missing in action. "Where's CEO?"

"Staying with my parents. They agreed to watch him."

A frown tugged on his mouth. "You told them you were going to London?"

"Not exactly. Told them I was going on a trip with some classmates before the new semester started," she said, sounding guarded.

A bout of strained silence followed.

His eyes dragged over her face, noting the shadow of apprehension on it. "I'm not mad at you for wanting to go, if that's what you're thinking," he said to clear the air as he moved his clenched hands into his lap.

Her eyes widened a fraction at his admission and her legs unfurled, loosening. "I thought you were going to try to convince me not to go."

"That's not why I came," he said quietly, eyebrows pushed together. "I mean, that was my plan at first, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that I can't tell you what you can and can't do."

Sabine digested the contents of his words before good-naturedly jostling his shoulder with her own. "You totally looked at plane flights, didn't you?" she accused somewhat cheekily.

He rolled his eyes in retaliation. "Of course! Going to London on your own sounds nuts right now, but I can understand why you want to go and it's not my place to get in the way of that." Perturbed, a resigned puff of air blew past his lips and he admitted a slice of his fears, "I just want you to be safe."

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes and brought the cup of tea to her lips, blowing on it. "I know," she hummed, reflecting on his admission.

Jason succumbed to impulse and reached out to graze his fingers across her fuzzy cardigan sleeve. To his mild surprise, she didn't flinch away from his seeking touch. Instead, she seemed to press back into it. His heart thumped painfully in his ribcage.

A red flush highlighted Sabine's cheekbones. She took an experimental sip of tea and placed the mug back down in front of her. Demurely, she tucked several strands of hair behind her ear and murmured, "I'm glad you came."

His hand on her arm crept down to her knee—a light, exploratory touch to test the waters, to see if he was only imagining the notion that she perhaps liked his touch.

"I came because I wanted to see you," he said simply. It was impossible for him to maintain a neutral expression, vulnerability poured through.

Sabine's gaze dropped down to his hands and she wished she could at least link fingers with him—visions be damned. She shifted, shuffling closer to him on the couch so there was no more distance between their bodies. The outside of her thigh brushed against his, a meager consolation prize for the lack of skin-to-skin contact.

Jason stiffened at the closeness, unsure what to make of his fledgling desire for touch and connection with another person. It had been a long time since he wanted something—anything—more than friendship with anyone. And here she was, playing with fire by cozying up next to him.

Desperately, he tried to steer his thoughts back to amicable territory and his brain scrambled to catch up to the present.

"So," he drawled, ripping his hand away and throwing his arms over the back of the couch in poised and calculated nonchalance, "you gonna open your gift or what?"

She balked in mock surprise. "And ruin that wonderful wrapping job you did?" She picked up the parcel and beholdingly examined it. "Look at these perfect creases! I can't even wrap a box without it looking lumpy."

He reached for his cup of tea and tutted smugly, "I'm a man of many talents."

"Clearly," she snorted, playfully feeding the monster that was his ego. She snuck her fingers underneath a crisp edge and ripped through the tape and paper. The colorful paper gave way to reveal a treasure: the highly coveted 'I ️ NY' tourist shirt.

Bewitched by it, Sabine shook it open and stood up. She held it up in front of her frame and found it fell past her mid-thighs.

She twirled in a circle with it like it was a dress and Jason groaned, embarrassed by her apparent glee.

Sabine came to a halt mid-spin. "Oh, wait—I do have something for you." She draped the tee over her arm and plodded over to her bedroom nook. She dug out something from her clean laundry basket and reappeared in front of him with a large lump of red fabric in her arms. "Tada! Your hoodie, nice and clean."

"That hardly counts," Jason scoffed with his arms crossed.

Her mouth twitched in amusement and she hugged it to her chest. "You could always let me keep it. It's comfy."

The audacity to permanently claim one of his favorite possessions pulled a laugh from him. "Nice try, give it." He made grabby hands.

Sabine dropped the sweatshirt into his lap and shot him a bright smile as she flopped back down on the couch. When he continued to lightly scowl, she realized that his foul mood had very little to do with his returned garment.

Her eyes fell on his face, observing the sullenness that marred its features that she had become increasingly fond of. She slumped into his side and allowed her chin to hook onto his shoulder.

Despite the heaviness in his heart, it beat rapidly. He couldn't help but painstakingly dwell on their proximity. Craved it, even, which was equal parts dangerous and stupid on his behalf.

"Jason," she said gently, breath sweetly fanning over his neck, "what can I do to make you feel better about me leaving?"

His shrug was almost immediate and he grumbled, almost incomprehensible, "Dunno."

Her eyes never left him as he tumbled further into his dark mental pit. How could she help that unrestful and overworked mind of his?

"How about this," she snatched up her phone from the coffee table, "I'll share my location with you."

Jason hesitated, but his expression wasn't disinterested. "You sure?"

The thought of slipping a tracker in her things had occurred to him, but that was too invasive without her consent. However, if she was willing…that was another matter. Her proposal was an acceptable compromise.

"If you think it will help," she replied comfortingly. She navigated her phone screen and pressed 'share my location'.

Jason monitored his phone screen as her contact information updated. He was able to view a pin drop of her current location on the maps screen, showing where she was currently in Gotham.

"Better?" she checked-in with him, chin planted back on his shoulder.

Thankfully, some of the spiky tendrils that wrapped around his heart loosened their near-death grip. He breathed a little easier. "A bit."

"Then that's a good start," she said, elated that she could relieve some of his misery.

"How are you even going to find Constantine?"Jason asked merely out of curiosity.

She gulped and almost shrank into herself in shame. "Madame Xanadu gave me a guiding spell to use. I, uhh, tried it out a few times back home to work it out."

She sounded ashamed to be using the very power that ruined her mother's life. And why shouldn't she feel that way? She swore that she would never follow her down the same path. But if she could potentially use her abilities to save lives, what choice did she have?

Jason tried to be encouraging and pressed, "And?"

"I think I have it down," she disclosed with a serious expression, hands wringing the hem of her cardigan. "Used it to find CEO after he slipped out of the house and got under a bush in Roz's vegetable garden. Had to burn one of his favorite mouse toys for it to work."

He stared at her with a massive grin. "Well, well, aren't you the little witch in training."

A loud and jagged sigh left her mouth at the word 'witch'. "I just…I just want to be helpful. Not dead weight. Sometimes I think back to that night in the morgue and how I couldn't do anything."

"Not true," Jason cut in, "you whacked a zombie pretty good with a stool if I recall—"

Sabine's eyebrows knitted together in doubt. "Lucky hit, but I want to do more than just be a bystander while all this bad shit happens. And—fuck—what if it gets someone while I'm gone, you think I haven't thought about—" she stopped herself from the impending doom spiral that almost dragged her under its vicious current.

Again, his hand found its way to her leg and rested on her thigh, drawn to her like there was a strong cord tethering them together. His thumb skated back and forth over her leggings, mimicking a soothing cadence.

"Sab," he paused because one of them needed to put on a strong front, "I'll handle things here, whatever happens."

Her eyes slipped down to his hand and—God, she wanted to touch him, too. Her sensitivity to magic felt almost cruel.

"What are you going to do while I'm gone?" she pried, eyes focused on the tiny white scars that smattered the back of his hand and knuckles.

Keenly aware of where her attention lay, Jason slid his hand off her leg in a self-conscious manner. Sometimes he worried that his scars were repulsive. "Prolly gonna run around the sewers with Roy, see if we can find anything."

She lifted her head and captured his gaze with innocent, wide eyes. "Oh, is Roy…Roy knows?"

"He's in the life, too," he responded as if it was no big deal.

"Oh." Makes sense. She repositioned herself against the armrest so she could watch him. "Jason—"

His chin jutted towards her. "Yeah?"

A chill surged through her and she shuddered, haunted. "What would you say if I told you that Gotham was cursed? Like, really cursed?"

He scoffed. "Everyone says that. It's not exactly news."

Sabine bristled at his dismissive response and knocked her slipper-clad foot into his knee. "I'm being serious."

Jason tilted his head back. His thumbs twiddled together over his lap, accessing the meaning of her utterance. "Well…shit. It would make a lot of sense."

With another burdened sigh, she ran a hand through her hair. "It's just something Madame Xanadu told me," she confessed. "I don't understand everything she said, but the city has magic. Or is magic? And the thing we're looking for in the sewers is part of that."

He went silent. Listening. Processing. No smartass retorts.

Until, cautiously, he inquired, "So…what does it want with you then?"

She shot him a dreary look. "Not sure. Can't be anything good though, right?"

Jason hummed flatly in agreement.

Sabine wrinkled her nose, disheartened. "Madame Xanadu also told me that my mom met Constantine. And that this thing might tie back to why they knew each other."

"You know, the more you tell me, the less and less I like you going to London on your own," he said, but there was a tiny lopsided smile of understanding plastered on his face.

She made a disgruntled noise. "Oh, so you wanna come with now?"

He bit back a roguish smirk. "You wish."

A puff of air blew past her lips and she countered with,. "I wouldn't let you anyway."

He swatted her arm and tutted in disapproval.

Sabine's eyes strayed back to Jason. With every minute that trickled by, the reality of her decision closed in all around her. In just a few short hours she'd be on a plane, leaving gloomy Gotham behind in a near-blind search for some answers with only a simple spell to guide her. She was on the brink of losing all her confidence to follow through. Anxiety coiled inside her chest.

Unsuredly, she continued to stare across the couch at him and asked point-blank, "Do you at least wanna stay the night?"

For reassurance, for comfort. To extend their time together. There was a certain homey comfort in his presence she couldn't achieve alone.

The question made his brain lag because how could it not go running in one specific and perverse direction? His head tended to repeatedly malfunction around her. Friendly thoughts, he reminded himself as molten heat coursed up his sternum, friendly thoughts.

He raised a brow and flipped the question back at her, "Do you want me to?"

She fidgeted in tandem with a sharp intake of breath. "Yes."

"Well," Jason said, mood on the upswing and green eyes hyper-focused on her, "what do you wanna do tonight?

Sabine appeared thoughtful as she swiveled her head around, examining the contents of her apartment. For all its clutter, there wasn't much to do.

A lightbulb sparked to life in her mind. "I still haven't finished Pride and Prejudice," she mentioned offhandedly. She stood up and moved across the apartment, picking up the novel on the nightstand by her bed. "Do you think…maybe we can finish it together?"

His eyes glinted luminously green in the soft glow of the corner lamp.

However, in typical Jason fashion, he snorted and his fingers drummed idly on his legs as he pretended to be indifferent. "Reading together, really?"

"If you wanna go then go," she chided with a withering look.

Jason huffed, replying with a childish rebuttal of, "Don't wanna." Then he sat up a little straighter and invitingly patted the vacant spot on the couch next to him. "C'mon. Get back over here, dork."

She padded back across the room and plopped down. Burrowing into his side, she cracked open the book to the page where the magenta post-it note stuck out.

Sabine peeled the post-it away and, with an index finger, jabbed at the line where she last left off. "Here, you go first."

Jason rolled his eyes as he brought up a hand to support the book's spine. His free arm snaked around her shoulders, locking her in place against him so she couldn't change her mind or wiggle away. He couldn't stop the grin that split his face, though it was hidden from her view.

Dramatically, he cleared his throat before reading the words printed on the page, "They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects…"

The high-pitched beeping of the alarm on her phone that roused Sabine was the thief of blissful respite.

At some point in the night, they'd made their way over to her bed to get several hours of shut-eye. Both passed out with their clothes on, not even bothering to crawl under the quilt or duvet.

She spooned Jason from behind with her arm slung over his bulky frame. Jason was a big guy, so the difference in size made it awkward at first and a tad uncomfortable. Her arm was numb and tingly, but who would've thought that the man who was the big and scary Red Hood enjoyed being the little spoon?

Half of his face buried into a pillow, Jason unleashed a distorted sound of protest when she dragged her limb off of him.

Sabine sat up and rubbed the crust from her eyes with her knuckles before swiping off the alarm. She flexed her arm, willing some feeling back into it because it felt like limp rubber.

Without thinking, she pressed her lips on the side of his shoulder to provide him some solace and to quell any further objections as they rejoined the waking world. An action Jason would store in his memory banks and over-analyze to hell and back later.

A blurry glance at the time on the screen showed it was 3:15 AM; fifteen minutes until the cab arrived. The nap left her groggy and disoriented, but she powered through the post-sleep haze. She yawned and rolled her shoulders. Her bones creaked with the movements.

Jason rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. The rims of his eyes were red and strained with exhaustion. Blearily, he observed Sabine.

She fossicked around her apartment, not bothering to change since she'd slept in her clothes. She kicked off her cat slippers and exchanged them for heavy boots.

She gathered her suitcase and any last-minute items and double-checked the flight time.

Sabine paused mid-step, there was always something she forgot. She patted down her pockets and suitcase.

Wallet. Check. Passport. Check. Phone charger. Check. Layers of clothing and wool socks. Double check.

She ran through the mental checklist before darting into the bathroom and victoriously reemerging with her toiletry bag like it was a large diamond. She shoved it inside the suitcase's front pocket.

There was no time for coffee so she scarfed down a grainy protein bar as Jason observed listlessly. He finally peeled himself off her bed and leaned against a wall with his arms folded in front of his chest. Intensity seeped into his eyes as he tracked her whirlwind of movements around the apartment.

Sabine caught his eye as she zipped her suitcase after a final-triple check and stood it up on its wheels. She smiled reassuringly before realizing a chunk of protein bar was caught in her front teeth and she hurriedly covered her mouth with a hand, face bright red with embarrassment.

Jason's shoulders sagged. The tension in his muscles unraveled for a beat of levity at the sight. He stifled a chuckle into a closed fist.

She just slipped on her peacoat just when her cell phone pinged.

Scanning the notification, she snatched the handle of her suitcase and rolled it to her front door. "Cab's here. Wanna walk me down?"

Jason grabbed his jacket and reclaimed hoodie off the back of the couch, shoved his arms through the sleeves, and gave her a nod. "Sure."

He followed her down the four flights of steps. Each smack of their boots on the hardwood mimicked back to him the loud and erratic rhythm of his heart.

Once outside, Jason rubbed his hands together and blew on them for warmth as the early morning air nipped at the small areas of exposed skin.

With a gruff, "Good morning", the cabbie loaded her single suitcase into the trunk.

Sabine chanced a peek over her shoulder at Jason. If there was a time for goodbyes, it was now.

She crashed into his chest in a clumsy last-minute hug, which nearly knocked him off balance. Jason expelled a winded "oof" and chuckled as her arms looped around his neck. She stood on her tiptoes to better bury her face into that sweet spot just below his collarbone, cheek nestled against his heart—her favorite spot.

He wound his arms around her and yanked her close, gathering up as much of her body as he could and slightly lifting her off the ground. One of his large hands swept up and down her spine.

"Jay, I'm going to be fine," she whispered into his shirt, nuzzling.

His heart skipped. "I know," he said, hoarse, faltering over how sure she sounded. What he wanted to say, 'Come back to me', fizzled and died in his throat.

Sabine pressed closer for a second, drowning in his familiar body heat and heartbeat, before letting go.

Jason gave her a pat on the back that ushered her forward towards the passenger door. With no mask to hide behind, his expression was easy to pick apart. It landed somewhere between torn, sappy, and bittersweet. He tried to control it but for all his efforts to conceal the muddied feelings that stirred beneath the surface he was an open book.

A corner of her lip curved up, and she smiled at him crookedly. "I'll see you in a week or two?" She yanked the car door open, and scooted inside and across the seat.

He bent forward, one hand on the frame of the car. His shadow eclipsed her. "Yeah. Keep in touch."

She cocked her head to the side. "So you can bully me from three-thousand miles away?"

Jason sighed, lips pursed. "I'm not gonna bully you…but I'd appreciate it if you'd message me once or twice a day so I know how you're doing." Stubbornly, he threw out the magic word, "Please?"

"Hmm, yeah, I think I can do that," Sabine relented, teasing.

He closed the door and Sabine waved behind the window as the taxi pulled away, rolling down the street.

Jason's brow crumpled as he stood there alone in the harsh pool of streetlight.

The yellow cab turned, vanishing from his line of sight, and his thoughts went sideways with it. The bottomless chasm of worry inside his gut threatened to reopen.

A cigarette hadn't done anything to calm his jitters in ages, but his brain lingered on the mostly empty carton that he'd stashed away in the bottom of a drawer at his place. For emergencies, or for when he felt particularly melancholy.

Stomping over the snow in his boots as he made his way back to his motorcycle, maybe lighting one up for old time's sake wouldn't be a bad idea.

A/N: Sorry for the wait! This chapter went through numerous rounds of editing until I liked it enough to post it In the first drafts, Jason and Sabine got into a huge, explosive argument over Sabine's decision to leave and it just felt off? Like, creating drama just for drama's sake? I sat on it for a couple of weeks and ultimately decided that it wasn't the direction I wanted to take with this chapter or with the characters. So…I rewrote it and made it more light-hearted.

(Also Jason and Sabine are like: we're just friends, nothing else going on here, nope lol)

Thanks for reading and thank you for all the kind comments!