Jazz woke up Sunday morning a bit disoriented, but warm and comfy in her bed. She only knew it was Sunday because her alarm didn't wake her up early for work, and the sun was way up in the sky when she opened her eyes.
Then, her memories of the previous day came in. She groaned, rolling over and covering her face with the blankets. How embarrassing! What had possessed her to invite the vigilante into her home? What if he thought she was trying to get something out of him? What if he thought she was trying to flirt with him?
What if he thought she was weird!?
"'We are band aid buddies now!', ugh, good job Jasmine." She growled into her pillow. What a stupid thing to say, really. But he was suddenly so tense…
She went back to their conversation trying to find the moment it went wrong. Did she say something suspicious? Did she get too chummy and made him uncomfortable?
She didn't think she had been too suspicious… I mean, being secretive was kind of part of the deal when you were part of Team Phantom - first, it was Danny's halfa status and his identity as Phantom; then it was the intensive training all of them had undergone when he was crowned King last year, all the lies and the alibis they made for each other as they spent days in the Ghost Zone trying to be helpful to Danny.
And, of course, there was the biggest lie of all: her liminality.
When they discovered it, Jazz felt kind of relieved. Finally, after years trying to fit what her parents did to her brother and her into any family resemblance, she gave up. Their neglect, their lack of care about their children and their lab safety at the same time, had caused both Danny and her to become something else. Danny they suspected had been liminal before the accident - Tucker's theory was that it was this liminality what saved him from completely dying all the way.
But Jazz? She was still human, kind of. What liminality did with her still fit inside the 'human' side of the spectrum, a fact that at first brought peace to her mind, but that with time and a lot of soul searching she found she didn't mind just being something else. She wasn't human, she wasn't a ghost, she wasn't a halfa - but she was still Jasmine. It didn't matter that she didn't get 'cool powers' in the deal, that she could understand ghostspeak perfectly but not speak it (something about her not having a ghost's voice box or something) or that she couldn't lift a bus with one arm like Danny could.
The accelerated healing was neat, though. And the strength.
The ghost hunger, not that much.
She still remembers the day she came back from her morning run and picked up the spinach smoothie she spied earlier in the fridge, chugging half of it down before her brother's expression of pure horror made her stop.
"What?" She had said.
"That's… That's my blob ghost boba tea."
Jazz stopped slurping the maybe-not-spinach-smoothie and looked at the inconspicuous plastic cup, finally noticing the swirling creatures inside it, their tiny black eyes mocking her as she choked on a scream.
She didn't die, but that very day they discovered two things:
One, Jazz can, and needs, to consume ectoplasm. She can live without it for a while, but eventually her body will become weak and it'd start eating itself to get the energy only ectoplasm could give her.
Two, there was a limit to the amount of ectoplasm she could consume at once - eat or drink too much and she'd start to burn up like in a horrible fever, and theoretically, burn from the inside out like any other human, not liminal, that tried to eat ectoplasm.
Those months of experimentation weren't fun, but their parents' drilling on the testing process and data analysis finally were worth something.
Still, the face of her little brother when they concluded that she was just ghostly enough to share these things with her… it filled her heart with warmth. Danny was unique, the only one of his kind, a true halfa. Around the coronation time there was this whole deal about not having a halfa in millenia, and discovering that Vlad wasn't a true halfa after all, just exposed to ectoplasm long enough to develop a ghost form - kind of the extreme case if Jazz went down that road. Dani was a clone, she was never human, so she wasn't a true halfa either.
Danny was distraught. He put on a brave face, but he felt so alone that when he found out she was liminal enough, he took it upon himself to teach her everything he knew, despite both knowing it was futile. Dani joined them soon after, ecstatic at the liminality news, and redirected his attention towards training his clone instead.
Sam and Tucker were bittersweet about the whole thing - they still harbored envy at the prospect of having 'cool ghostly perks', their words, but understood that the price to pay was too high to even consider duplicating the Fenton siblings' disaster of a childhood.
Still, their humanity and their support helped ground them when Danny and Jazz felt like they were slipping away.
An alarm started to sound, and Jazz looked at her phone in confusion. What did she-
Her gymnastics class.
Oh my god she was late. Correction, she was going to be late.
Dick really enjoyed his voluntary work in this little studio. It was a bit taxing juggling the cop work, vigilantism and Sundays teaching gymnastics to kids in the morning and then the adults class before lunch. It also helped that Susan wasn't super mad with him if he had to skip class because of "family issues", that woman was a sunshine and deserved all the cookies he managed to smuggle her.
But today Dick felt like something good was going to happen. The kids had fun in the morning and when they had fun he was happy. It was the true objective of these classes - being so close to one of the poorer parts of Gotham meant that low income families didn't have money to enroll their children in fancy studios.
Whatever. Dick didn't learn in a fancy schmancy studio, he could teach children to love flying as much as he did.
"I'm sorry I'm late!"
A breathless voice cut through the music they set up during warm ups. He turned and saw one of the newest additions to their little gymnastic-loving family. Jasmine - or Jazz, she preferred - had moved recently to Gotham. Those two tidbits of information had been the only thing she had shared when she enrolled, the second one as an excuse when she got lost and arrived ten minutes late to the second class she attended.
This time, she was about eight minutes late, but that's fine. The amount of running she had to do would count as the first part of the warm ups.
"It's okay," he helped her out of the messenger bag that got tangled in her hair. He smiled at her flushed face, and she beamed another smile back at him.
"Thanks."
As the class continued normally, Dick couldn't stop thinking about their newest student. Jasmine didn't stay after for drinks or made conversation with the others - she just came for her lesson and left when it finished. It wasn't that unusual, so he at first didn't pay her any mind.
The weird thing came when they covered the basics again and this girl knew how to fall perfectly without breaking anything, but couldn't do a cartwheel. He asked, of course, if she had trained before.
She said "yeah, but not gymnastics" and he believed her. She didn't have the flexibility of someone who had done some gymnastics before; but still, the way she moved was precise, strong, her muscles used to the exertion. Hell, she was never winded at the end of each class, while her peers always looked ready to drop in place when the time was up.
Huh.
Jason had been perching on the rooftop of the building next to his for about an hour when he felt a presence drop beside him. By the faint footsteps and breathing pattern he knew it was his older brother.
"Hey, Little Wing." Dick's voice broke his concentration. He looked away from his binoculars and nodded in greeting and the man in the Nightwing costume. "Watcha doing?"
"Investigating." He kept his voice quiet at night. He wasn't wearing the helmet for this, and the cold night air was starting to feel uncomfortable.
"Who are we investigating?" Nightwing crouched beside him, following Jason's line of vision. "Isn't this your apartment?"
Honestly? Jason wasn't surprised that Dick knew his current safehouse's address. Probably everyone knew it by now. Fucking know-it-alls.
"No."
He put on the binoculars again, fixing them on the window that had the lights on - his neighbor. Jazz had been home the whole afternoon, doing different things around the house. Cooking, cleaning, reading, the like. Nothing out of the ordinary. He was hoping that by night she decided to do suspicious activities or he was going to feel like an idiot and a stalker for watching her for so long.
"Who's that?" Dick kept questioning. Ugh.
"Nobody. What do you want?"
"I'm wounded! Do you really think I would approach you with a hidden agenda?"
Jason turned his head, letting his silence and the cold stare of his masked eyes tell him that yes, he believed he had a hidden agenda.
"Okay, maybe I do." Nightwing deflated. Red Hood rolled his eyes and went back to watching through his binoculars. "There's a family dinner in two weeks. It's be nice if you attended."
"Good. I hope you guys have fun." He said without looking away. He also ignored Dick's sigh of disappointment. He did those too often.
"You are invited, you know."
"Pass."
"Please?"
"Pass."
"We miss you, Jay. Not just as vigilantes, but as a family."
Lately they had convinced him to connect his comms to the frequency the whole batfam used, but he usually kept it silent and for emergencies only. That was as far as he let them into his life. It was only for work, he said. He honestly didn't wish them bad, if they needed his help he would help; but he wasn't going to move back to the manor and hold their hands and sing songs around the campfire.
They just didn't understand - they thought he was angry for having been murdered. That Batman didn't save him or something. He tried to explain, he tried to make them see that the problem wasn't that he died, but that after he died things went back to the usual and nobody seemed to care. It made him feel meaningless.
But he was tired of talking. They wouldn't listen anyway.
"I'm not going."
"Alfred's cooking."
"Good for you."
By the silence, Jason assumed Dick had pursed his lips and decided to give up, for now. He looked up to see if he would go, but instead of leaving him alone, he sat down on the ledge of the roof, legs swinging in the air.
"Who's that?" He asked again.
Jason just wanted to talk about something else, and since Dick was dead set on talking today, he relented. "A potential lead in a case."
Nightwing stole his binoculars, ignoring his protests, and looked at the girl sitting on her couch and writing something on a notepad. They couldn't see her face from this angle - the window was behind and to the left of the couch, so from there only her red hair could be seen.
"Yeah?" Dick didn't sound that interested, but refused to leave without a conversation.
"There's this new gang, the Black Clovers, trying to get a hold on my territory. I wouldn't mind negotiating… if they weren't hellbent on dealing with prostitution. Child prostitution."
Dick made a disgusted face, looking away from the binoculars to look at him. "Not good."
"Nah, mostly they've been a pain in the ass. The problem is I can't get a hold on someone that knows anything - but yesterday this girl saved some kids from Black Clover thugs."
"Oh, the ones you told me to pick up?"
"Yeah. She had dealt with two before I got there."
"O… kay? So she can fight. I can't see how that makes her 'a lead', though."
"You didn't see her move. It wasn't your usual self defense training. And she had knocked one out with just one hit? The dude was still unconscious when I got to the warehouse and just in case I checked for a severe concussion. It was that bad."
Dick whistled in appreciation, but he saw that Jason wanted to keep talking and didn't add anything. Also, Dick had never seen Jason do so many hand gestures as he talked about anything.
"Yeah. And she just… She noticed I got nicked by one of Ivy's attacks and she just helped me? I don't know what's wrong with her or if she saw an opportunity to get me alone or something, but she insisted on healing the cut and brought me to her apartment. How dangerous is that? Does she not know about stranger danger?"
Jason looked back at the window as he talked, remembering her flushed face and the way she wasn't afraid of Red Hood.
"Also she moved in right beside me? That's super suspicious. There's five other empty apartments on the same floor and she moves to the one right next to me? And she just likes to read the same books I like? I don't think that's a coincidence - Why are you smiling?" He said when he finally looked at his brother, the binoculars completely forgotten in his hands.
"Nothing. Go on."
Jason narrowed his eyes, and Dick's smile grew.
"You have a crush on her." His brother finally said in a sing-song voice.
With how immature his brother was sometimes, he should have seen this coming. He crossed his arms. "I do not."
"You do. And she's a redhead. I see that the Robin tradition is being honored."
"Excuse me, but there's no such tradition." Tim's voice felt like a splash of cold water. What in the goddam-
Dick, the fiend, was still smiling when he pressed a button on his comms and said: "You got everything, Babs?"
"Loud and clear, Nightwing." Barbara's voice had a barely contained smile.
The traitor. It didn't surprise him that she abused his trust in them and hacked his comms open anyway. Which means she could have done so already whenever she wanted. Not a comforting thought.
"This is ridiculous. Leave me alone if-"
"Jay?"
"What?" Dick was looking at his neighbor's window. Jason turned and found that Jasmine had stood up and was picking up her stuff, probably to tuck in for the night.
"I know her. Jasmine, or Jazz, I think it was her name."
Oh? Another lead?
"She goes to my gymnastic class every Sunday. Sorry bro, she's totally harmless." His brother had the audacity of smirking as he added: "She's very flexible, though."
"Ooohh." Tim cheered, the sound of wind in the background confirming that he was patrolling at the moment.
"She's very fun, though. And adorable. When she started she could barely do much but she is very determined and the other day she almost nailed a flip on her own."
Jason chose to ignore the teasing and pressed on. "Has she mentioned anything? Any suspicious behavior? Does she-"
"Chill out, Jaybird," Dick took advantage that Jason couldn't move as he was prone on the rooftop and slapped his shoulder. "Now that you mention it she is already fit and knows how to fall, so it tracks if she had training before. Solved the mystery for me."
Jason hated that it made sense. He narrowed his eyes.
"So she can fight, likes reading and has a protector vibe. I don't know, she sounds like quite a catch."
"I will tell Bernie you said that."
Tim groaned. "I hate that you guys are so close now."
Jason clicked his comms off, knowing that Barbara would turn it on again if she wanted, hoping that she did it when it was something important and not for bullying him about this non-existent crush.
When he looked up he saw his brother smiling and waving.
"What are you doing?"
"You girl is saying hello. It seemed the polite thing to do." He shrugged. Nightwing was one of the bats that did interact or wave back to civilians. Jason didn't get it.
Also-
He quickly stood, remembering at the last moment that he wasn't wearing his helmet and that she could recognize the white stripe.
But she didn't. She just jumped at his sudden appearance, recovering quickly and waving at him before closing her window. He noticed that she still hadn't installed a lock on the window. He should-
Nope. No. No more interactions as Red Hood, he didn't want her figuring out that he was onto her and fleeing the city or something.
"Now, being serious. I don't think there's anything wrong with her, Little Wing." Dick was using his 'I'm a good big brother' voice. It rubbed him the wrong way a lot. Usually because Dick used the voice to convince him that Bruce was sorry and that he should go back home.
"Still, I don't want to miss any leads about her. I'll ask Oracle to check her background as well."
"Already on it."
Jason took a deep breath, held it in, and breathed out. It didn't help that Dick was still smiling when he opened his eyes.
"You should ask her out for coffee."
"No."
"Maybe-"
"I said no."
"I'm rolling my eyes. You can't see but I'm rolling them."
"Go away, I have things to do."
"Like stalking your girlfriend?"
Both turned towards the window. Lights were off. She probably went to bed already.
"Some of us need to do patrol."
Before Dick could add anything else, he put a hand on his ear, listening to what someone was telling him over the comms. Jason refused to join the comms channel despite being curious about what Bruce was saying. It had to be Bruce by the way Nightwing straightened his spine as if he were still Robin waiting for Batman's instructions.
"Gotta go. B said-"
"Don't know, don't care. Go."
His brother made that kicked puppy expression he had every time Jason brushed him away so aggressively.
"Please rethink about dinner. Two weeks!" He shouted over his shoulder and turned to jump to the next building rooftop.
Jason didn't answer, looking back at the dark window. There was nothing to rethink about the dinner - he would be miserable, Bruce would be miserable, and the evening would be ruined for everyone involved. He knew he made them feel uncomfortable; that there was so much about him they didn't know anymore and/or didn't want to ask.
Sometimes he thought that it would be easier if they stopped trying to shoehorn the Jason they knew into what he was now. People change. He had changed. They had changed. He was still Jason but he had new experiences and skills apart from the family business - and not all of them were even about killing or murder.
Nobody had asked if he was still a Wonder Woman fan, for example.
His mind went back to a bandaid and a warm smile, a kiss on a wound in a thoughtless gesture. He found himself smiling at the memory, despite his best efforts. He didn't want to get his hopes up and find out she was trying to kill him or anything.
But deep in his heart he knew it had been a while since he felt like he didn't need to be so on guard. It was nice, he thought, his hand mindlessly going to the healed and hidden scratch on his shoulder; it was nice to not be expected to do or say anything, to be able to laugh and say they were bandaid buddies and don't care if it fits what he once was or what he 'had become' or anything like that.
Jason shook his head, retrieved his helmet and launched himself into the night to patrol his territory. It wasn't useful to think about it right now. He just had to bury the feeling down, like everything else that wasn't his mission to clean the Narrows and Crime Alley.
The Mission. He chuckled without mirth.
He was turning out to be just like Bruce, huh.
He didn't like it.
