Jason didn't sleep at all. Too many thoughts, too much noise from the storm, and his damn left side was hurting.

He knew he had to get up from bed if he wasn't going to get any sleep and take the damn painkillers he had in the bathroom. But he couldn't do either. He had been paralyzed by his restless mind until dawn.

Jasmine.

She was not the person he thought she was. At all.

No. That's not true. He knew she was a fighter and that she was a metahuman. He knew she had a bad childhood. He knew she loved her job even if it frustrated her like nothing else did. He knew she loved her little brother and would do anything for him.

Anything. Including lying to him.

It hurt a lot. Knowing that she had purposely hidden that from him; that she had done something to him that could irreversibly change him without asking - it hurt. How many times had she made the decision to not tell him something that would affect him?

That's how I knew. About Red Hood.

She said she could sense him. When did this happen? Did she know from the beginning? Did this mean she knew when she said 'yes'? When she kissed him?

He still didn't believe the realization left her indifferent, that it didn't change anything for her. If it did, she hid it so well. Apparently that's something she excelled at, hiding things from him.

I want to say that everything was real and that I never faked anything.

Could he believe her after this?

He wanted to. He still felt he could believe her, despite everything, but his first instinct was to push her out of his life.

This was different - she was different. He knew liars, he knew desperation, he knew how to weed out the deceivers. It hadn't been his first interrogation.

Jazz wasn't lying. Everything she said was true, despite not being the complete truth. It had been brushstrokes of a bigger picture that he understood she didn't want to talk about. He wanted to know more, but only because he wanted to understand her more, not because he needed her to prove she was trustworthy.

She had always been very private and secretive of her past. Being a teenage hero did that to you, he would know.

Oh, the irony.

Even when he tried to be normal and have a normal relationship, he picked the one with a hero complex. Dick was going to have a field day with this.

He also owed him one. Him and the- and Tim. They were the ones that found out what Bruce had planned and told him before it was too late. It's true that they didn't explain anything about any accusations, but it wasn't difficult to guess that Bruce didn't tell anybody, not even the golden boy.

What possessed the man to jump the gun like that? Bruce usually waited until he had all the facts in his hand before acting. Was this some kind of misguided attempt at "helping" him? Suspecting he was being duped by a villain in the works and stop it before he got too invested and made a mistake?

Well, he had messed up big time. Once again, Bruce was jumping in and deciding for others without asking for a second opinion, too immersed in his idea that he's right to accept that things may not be as simple as they are.

Yes, Jazz had lied. Big time. Yes, she was not human and yes she was the daughter of two mad scientists that were doing bad stuff with a shady ex-government organization. And yes, she had used Lazarus Waters to save him and then tried to hide it.

But she loved him. She cared about him enough to risk it all, to come forward and tell the truth without expecting forgiveness. She could have run away the moment she was cornered, he had no doubt that once she was outed as a meta- as a liminal, she could have fought her way out and hid long enough to call for backup or disappear.

But she stayed. He knew she was still there.

(There was a moment during the night he swore he could hear her cry.)

Jazz loved him back and that fact was what made him stop to think the previous day at the safehouse. She had been calm and collected as she explained what was in Bruce's research, but lost it completely once he questioned the veracity of her feelings.

I never meant for this to happen.

What was supposed to happen, though? She said her stay in Gotham was temporary, why get attached to someone if she was going to leave anyway?

I was never supposed to feel like this, like I…

He knew what she wanted to say and couldn't say. He understood, because he wasn't supposed to feel like this either and yet he made the leap anyway. He didn't know it was like that for her as well, that love was also something out of reach.

She wanted him. Despite everything. Despite her past, despite his past - she wanted to try.

He believed her the moment she left the safehouse and the reality of the situation sank in. When her phone, left behind with the rest of her things, chimed with a notification - a reminder to buy cookies and snacks for movie night. A few seconds later another reminder, this time about asking him which ones he preferred.

He had picked up the phone, conflicted, looking at the reminders and thinking about the texts she left him and he never got the chance to answer, checking if he was up for a movie night after she got home.

The final nail in the coffin was her lockscreen. He remembered she had taken a photo while they were chilling under the tree on their date, but didn't know she had set it as her lockscreen. He looked happy, relaxed, and in love.

He still loved her, he realized as he looked at her phone for so long that the screen got dark again. He stared at his own reflection, finding that he hated feeling conflicted about it. He loved her, she loved him. He wanted it to be simpler. He could make it simpler.

Having decided, he searched in the bag until he found the listening device he had seen Bruce sneak in between the papers.

"I hope you guys are happy." He said to the microphone before throwing it to the floor and stomping on it.

He could unpack his anger at the others later, he had been too focused on getting her back and making sure she knew he didn't want them to be over.

Now, back in his bed, he wondered if she really understood the message.

No new texts, he had checked - he had checked too many times - and her last message was the same one from the day before, where she explained she would get home a bit late. She had been online a few times, and he even caught her typing in the chat with him, only to delete and go offline again.

Was it too late? Was the damage done to their relationship irreparable?

He heard a door close - Jazz's door - his heart jumping with the sound. What time was it? He looked at his phone, and indeed it was around the time she left for work.

She was going to work after what went down? Maybe it was to keep appearances.

(Maybe she was going in to resign and then leave Gotham and then-)

He rushed to his door, careful with his steps, since he was pretty sure she had super hearing or something. He looked into the peephole and waited for her to pass by.

She looked the same as she did when she went to work - sensible jeans, a long sleeved shirt and comfortable flats. The only difference was her loose hair, which she usually had in a bun or a ponytail for her work.

Jazz stopped just as she passed by his door and looked straight into his eyes, transporting him to a day he had forgotten. Danny, on the day she moved in, did exactly the same thing. Now it made more sense. If Danny was like her he could sense him too.

But unlike her brother, she sighed and looked away to continue walking towards the elevator.

She looked fine. Put together. But she was not the Jazz he knew. Even with the distortion of the glass he could see she was not okay, that her usual radiance was gone.


He had a plan. He had the food ready (didn't cook this time, he wasn't sure if she would think it was supposed to be romantic, and that wasn't his angle), he checked she came back home, he prepared a speech and everything.

It all went away the moment she opened the door.

"Oh." Wrong. Wrong. It was all wrong. Her voice- "Hi."

Her smile was wrong too. Too calculated. It didn't go up to her eyes.

She was wearing makeup. It was supposed to be subtle, but Jason knew what to look for. She had been crying indeed.

"Hello. Um. Have you eaten yet?" He lifted the bag of chinese food from the place she mentioned she liked. There was a spark of recognition in her eyes, but the smile didn't change. "I thought we could eat dinner together."

"Of course!" She quickly moved away from the door to let him in. "You must have more questions."

No. That wasn't why he was there. Not exactly? He just wanted to see her and talk to her about what happened.

Jason walked in and looked around her apartment, searching to see if anything had changed. He had been there the previous day, he had slept in her bed, he had been sewn back together right under her window - and yet, everything was different. Colder.

She had cleaned and tidied up the place. The sofa she slept in while he was down with painkillers was immaculate, the blankets folded perfectly and the cushions fluffed up. Her kitchen was spotless, and even if it was way past the time to start working on dinner, there was no plate or pot out to make food.

Had she even eaten anything that day? She said she sometimes skipped breakfast-

"How much do I owe you?"

He turned, finding her next to her kitchen table, looking at him. Her hands clasped together on her front, her stance proper and stiff, that stupid fake smile on her lips. He hated it. That wasn't her. This was her lying and hiding. He understood the difference now.

"It's my treat," he smiled, trying to be encouraging. If her behavior was because she thought he was mad at her, he needed to assure her that wasn't the case.

"Okay." And before he could comment on her emotionless tone, she quickly looked away and added: "Do you want plates? And cutlery. Or chopsticks are fine?" He caught the slight tremble that she had every time she spoke without thinking her words.

Okay. They really needed to talk.

First, some food. If she really hadn't eaten anything all day, at least he wanted her to eat before getting into the meat of the issue.

Soon the plates were set and both sat down on her tiny kitchen table, facing each other, and it didn't escape him how similar this moment was to another almost a week ago. They had homemade risotto instead of chinese food, they had been in his apartment instead of hers, and they had wine and comfortable conversation instead of silence.

He cleared his throat.

Jazz looked up from her barely touched plate and smiled that cursed smile again. With the light coming from the sole lightbulb in the kitchen, the bags under her eyes were even more visible.

"Yes?" She asked when he didn't speak.

"I do have more questions." He projected as much calm as he could, not wanting to spook her.

"Of course, ask away."

He hated her tone. It was too sweet.

"Eat."

"How can I eat and answer at the same time?" She lifted an eyebrow. There, some of her usual sass. Was familiar enough to make him relax a little.

"Eat while I ask and then answer when you have swallowed. I can wait."

"Okay." She did as he asked, no complaints, no snarky comebacks.

He ignored the discomfort to ask a question that had been burning in his head. "Do you have any superpower?"

Finally, finally, she laughed. Bad thing she was still chewing and she choked with her food. Jazz made a gesture to stop him when he made a move to stand up and help her, apparently she had it under control.

"That's the first question?"

"I'm just curious. I've suspected some stuff but I want to know."

"Suspected?"

"You are not subtle, at all." He rolled his eyes. "I'm like, ninety-five percent sure you have super hearing."

"I'm not a super."

"But you have super hearing?"

Her eyes glazed over for a second, the same she did every time she thought about her brother. He now understood she was also thinking about all these other things she had to hide from him.

"Liminal abilities manifest gradually depending on the level of contamination." The way she spoke was purely academic, like she was giving a lecture. "At my current level I have about the limit of human capabilities."

"So…"

"Strength, stamina, speed, vision, hearing, you name it." She shrugged. "But no 'super' anything. I can't lift a bus. Or fly."

He knew about the strength and the hearing, but the others made sense as well.

"Would I be like you? After what you did."

She tensed and braced herself as if she expected-

Jazz tried to be subtle as she placed her hands on her lap, under the table and out of his eyesight, but it was futile. He had already seen the yellow and almost invisible bruise on her wrist when she opened the door.

Flashes of distant memories appeared behind his eyes. His mother, Catherine, her face and arms in various shades of purple and green and yellow.

Jason swallowed the discomfort, making a note to apologize and never, ever, touch her that way again.

"I don't know. Really. There are no studies before us, no science aside from what my parents have done, misguided as they are." She looked up from her lap, but she couldn't look him in the eye. "Danny may be able to help, or maybe if you- I mean, you don't have to, but there are ghost doctors that have resources and knowledge we don't."

"You mean going with you to the, uh, Ghost Zone?"

"Yes." She looked so small. It was wrong. He felt so wrong. "If you don't - want to go, I mean - Danny can still look it up for you."

"I don't mind going. Could be fun, also. I've never thought that visiting the land of the Dead was a possibility. At least not if you pretended to come back."

"But you…"

Jason hummed, pondering what to say. She had been forced to spill her secrets, maybe a show of faith was what she needed to feel more comfortable? "Eat." He pointed at her forgotten food.

"Okay."

He watched her take a bite of her fried rice, then another, and nodded when she started chewing and swallowing.

"I was murdered when I was fifteen. But maybe you already knew that."

"Not the murder part." She said, her mouth still full. It made him smile.

"Well the thing is I was killed. Joker, he- it was a trap set up for me, because he knew I was looking for my mother, my biological mother, and used her as bait."

"WHAT!" She almost choked again, but she was fine.

"Eat."

She looked at him funny as she lifted her spoon, like she didn't know what his angle was with forcing her to eat.

"I was Robin," Jazz nodded, so she had made the connection already, "and Bruce, the motherfucker, thought I was 'too violent' and fired me. No reasoning, no explanations, he just- He has this idea that he doesn't need to explain himself because he's always right and everyone else should just shut up and follow."

"I've noticed." Jazz scoffed.

He hummed again, happy to see her coming back. "So when I didn't, when I decided to go against his wishes and someone died because of it - no, I didn't kill him, but that's a story for another time," he added when he saw her open her mouth. "Eat."

"I'm eating!"

"Well, eat more."

She just glared at him and slowly took another bite. Good. Her face had a bit more of color too.

"So I was fifteen and decided nobody cared about me and that maybe my real mother would love me so I went looking for her." He laughed at his own stupidity, but Jazz didn't find it funny.

"That's a pretty normal teenage response." She explained why she wasn't laughing. "Teenagehood is a very isolating experience and right around the time the brain develops the ability to process complex emotions. The world is suddenly an influx of information that nobody else seems to care about and you are expected to just know how to deal with it. Teenagers lash out and that's normal."

He missed this. Her ramblings. Her totally normal explanations of things he didn't consider as something even worth an explanation.

Jason felt his cheeks get warm. "Well, normal teenagers aren't Robin and deal with psychos like the Joker on the reg."

"That's true." She conceded and took another bite without needing the prompt. "I'm eating."

"I can see that." She rolled her eyes at him. "So yeah, he beat me with a crowbar and there was an explosion and I died. Then I woke up in my coffin."

She really was used to death, it didn't faze her. Jazz just frowned as she swallowed, thinking. "Just like that?"

"Yeah."

"No strange visions of a green place?"

"Green?"

"The Ghost Zone is green."

How did that make sense, he didn't know.

"No, no visions of a green place or ghosts or weird paranormal experiences. Just. Woke up." He shrugged. "This part I don't remember well because the injuries from when I was alive were still there, and the brain damage left me catatonic. For me, the story picks up when Talia al Ghul found me and decided to dunk me into the Lazarus Pits."

"Ectoplasm." He nodded. "Pits? Like, a pool? A green pool?"

"Yes. It's guarded by this asshole, Talia's father, the Demon Head. He has been living for centuries thanks to the rejuvenating and healing properties of the Pits."

"Oof. That doesn't sound good." Her eyes turned sharp. Calculating. "We need to tell my brother and cut that shit in the bud."

He liked how she said 'we'.

Also the mental image of Ra's losing his precious Pits and having a meltdown was funny as hell.

"So, after that, I found out that Joker was alive and kicking, and that Bruce didn't kill him. It just-" he looked away from her understanding eyes. "I understood that Bruce couldn't - wouldn't - do what was needed to do. He has this idea that Justice is always served, eventually, and that he is not the one that should act as judge, jury and executioner.

"But that's bullshit. Some people never get Justice, or not in time to prevent victims. Joker broke out of Arkham shortly after I was killed and what did he do? Kill eight more people. If Bruce, if he-"

"Joker is still alive."

Jazz's back was completely straight, one of her hands grasping her spoon like it was a knife she was ready to throw. Her eyes were cold and calculating, she was thinking something dangerous.

He wondered again what kind of secrets she couldn't tell him yet.

"He is."

"Why?"

It wasn't an accusation, she was honestly surprised the man was not dead.

"I haven't gotten around to doing it."

"No, no, you shouldn't have to. You shouldn't need to."

Jason blinked, was she suggesting…? "Why? You wanna kill him for me?"

The way she looked at him, he believed she would do it. "I had plans for him already, but I can change them if you want to."

Plans?

She saw his confusion and rushed to explain. "He, among some, is a different case. I told you about my plans with Gotham's rogues," he nodded, but not really following her, "well, I had plans for those that won't change, won't learn."

"I thought you were into redemption?"

"And I am. But I have dealt with cases before - people that will keep hurting themselves and others no matter how much you help them. I…" she looked down at her plate, "you asked me who I am, and I can't really tell you, but I know that it gets worse when people like Joker die. Imagine him losing the fear of death, of being mortal. He is a special case because he treats everything like a joke, but, what if, whatever you do, you cannot cease to exist? Think about the possibilities."

"Oh shit."

She nodded. "My brother and I… not all ghosts are evil or bad or wish to hurt, mind you. Some are confused, some lash out, some just want to be left alone. But the truly unrepentant, once removed from the Living Realm, are the ones you have to look out for. The ones we have to deal with."

He processed her words for a few moments. "So you are saying… that all those criminals, all that people that I've-"

"- killed has become a ghost I had to fight?" She smiled, but it was weak. "Nah. Not every living person becomes a ghost, and the Infinite Realms are, well, infinite. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Is kind of chaotic and difficult to keep track of who is who."

It was daunting knowing that even if he tried to rid the world of the worst of the worst, they still ended up somewhere else. Some place this cinnamon roll had to fight-

Her scars. He had seen them a few times but never commented on it. Were those battle wounds?

"I wouldn't kill him." He blinked in confusion. "Joker. There are fates worse than death, and I know a thing or two about punishment."

"Can you kill a ghost?"

"Yes."

She didn't elaborate. She didn't have to - she had the eyes of someone that had to make that call.

His mind started trying to make sense of what he knew about her, trying to make a whole picture with the pieces.

We wanted to be heroes and bit more than we could chew.

- we had accepted that help wouldn't come-

I know a thing or two about punishment.

Whoever she was, really was, she wasn't that different from him. A warrior, a protector, an executioner. What kind of world had she lived in that made her what she is now? A world not that different from his, filled with monsters and constant survival.

But he had Bruce. Batman. For a brief period of time, Jason had Robin too.

What did she have?

"I can hear you thinking from here."

"I'm trying to find out your secrets." He extended a hand to pick up her free hand, but unlike that other time in another dinner, she withdrew a bit faster than he expected.

"Don't."

"Why? Too scary?" He lifted an eyebrow.

"I don't think so?" Jazz overlapped her hands on the table. "But I am aware that my perception of fear is kind of skewered."

No shit. "I've noticed."

Instead of laughing, that made her look sad for a hot second.

"Can I at least guess? We could make it a game."

"This isn't Twilight."

"I can't believe you just said that." By her little smile, she said it on purpose. "Why can't you say it? Loyalty?" He would understand if it was loyalty. In his line of work, loyalty was everything.

"Yes and no." Jazz sighed. "Sometimes things stay a secret because if you knew, you couldn't un-know it." Jason nodded, it made sense. "Also we don't know who may be listening."

"Batman is not listening, I would know."

"I'm not worried about him."

Who could be listening? The GIW? Vlad? In any case, he understood the need to be discrete.

"Will you ever be capable of telling me?"

Her eyes shined with emotion. "Yes. I texted my brother, but it might take a while for him to come by." She looked down at the table. "When he gets here, I'll - I promise I'll tell everything."

Jazz's brightness was gone again, replaced by a complacent copy that sat in her place. The comfortable mood that they had going on came to an abrupt halt and he felt again like he was interrogating her. Cold. Detached. Jazz was putting as much physical distance as she could without being rude.

That had to stop.

"I'm sorry." She said, but didn't look up from her hands. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was going to at least start telling you after you healed from your injuries. It was a bad call."

"I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you." He said, his voice soft in the tense silence. He had time to reflect on this and on what Talia did, how both of them had brought him back using the Lazarus Waters.

Talia did it for selfish reasons, no matter how much she helped him afterwards. Jazz did it without ulterior motives, without a scheme behind, and didn't expect anything in return.

"I couldn't let you die." She glanced at him, her teal eyes hardened. He smiled. That's what he wanted to hear.

"I know. Thank you. I would have done the same if I were in your shoes." She didn't look convinced. "I'm not mad at you, for real. I meant what I said yesterday - it is not easy to tell all of this, and even less dump it on a guy you just started dating."

Confusion. She didn't know where he was going with this.

He licked his lips and said what he needed to say. Actual words. "I don't want to break up with you."

"But-"

"The whole situation was shitty but I had time to think about everything you said, and about us, and about what I wanted." He held her gaze, hoping that this way his words reached her better. "I still want to be with you. If you still want me, that is."

Jason leaned over the tiny kitchen table and gingerly picked up her bruised wrist.

"I'm sorry. For hurting you. For being an asshole and pointing a gun at you. I'm sorry for suspecting you so quickly without waiting for an explanation."

Her eyes watered for a second, but she blinked the tears away and gently withdrew her hand from his.

"I also had time to think things through. I'm not sure if… any of this… should happen."

For a heartbeat, Jason felt like pins and needles took residence in his chest. "Why."

She took a breath and exhaled slowly. She had practiced this speech. "This is temporary. My stay in Gotham. My mortal life. My- My allocated time away from my responsibilities." Jazz tried to look serene, but underneath she was as hurt as he felt. "I couldn't give you normal, even if I tried."

Seconds ticked by as her words settled in.

"Do you… regret?" Regret meeting him, regret saying yes.

She looked away and didn't answer.

With a heavy sigh, Jason stood up and walked around the table, ignoring how she refused to move and look at him as he approached her.

He grabbed her chair and forced it to rotate and make her face him. Then, he kneeled in front of her legs.

"Well, that's bullshit." Jazz looked up at him and frowned. "I like you and if I understood your words, you like me as well. What if it's temporary? Why not make the best of what we got?" He picked her hands in his. "I don't care about 'normal'. Nothing about me is normal anyway," he shrugged, "and I think you don't need to be 'normal' for me to love you."

Her eyes got wide. She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her with a gesture.

"What I'm trying to say is: Jasmine, I like you a lot and I would like to know you better. Would you go out with me?"

She blinked once, twice, three times.

"Yes." She jumped in place, like she didn't mean to say that out loud. "I- Yes. I do want to. Go out. With… with you."

Jason thought she was the cutest thing, blinking and mumbling away the bluescreening. She had really given them up, thought they were completely over. Was that why she was behaving so weird?

"Can I kiss you?" He asked on purpose, the memory of her making him lose every capacity of thought that night that felt so long ago.

And just like him back then, she nodded her agreement, unable to say the words.

Her lips felt familiar, he had kissed them many times; but after being apart for so long and after thinking he would lose her forever, they felt like coming back home. He ventured his hands into her hair, carefully cupping her head slowly enough that she could move away anytime she felt like it.

She didn't move away. Instead, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards her. She wanted the kiss as much as he did, apparently; and she had missed this as much as he did as well.

A few tears were running down her cheeks when they parted. He wiped them away.

"There is one more thing I have to confess, then." Jazz said, breathless, her grip on his clothes becoming weaker.

"Yeah?"

"The reason why I didn't…" her cheeks bloomed with a blush as she looked away. "I couldn't kiss you like I wanted because I couldn't let you see- Uh…"

She grabbed his hands and guided them to her mouth, opening it enough to show-

"Holy shit."

Her smile twisted a little since she still had her mouth open, the long canines sticking out of her white teeth like those stick-on fake fangs. But these weren't fake. He touched one once she nodded her consent, and indeed that was a real fang. Pointy. He didn't press too much just in case.

"Holy shit."

This was the reason she didn't want to French kiss? Well, she had reasons if she wanted to hide her secrets - people didn't usually have fangs and these were not explainable as "long canines" in any way. Not that they were a deal breaker for him or anything. In fact, he was liking them a bit too much-

He felt his cheeks burn.

It is actually pretty hot.

Jazz's face got red as a tomato. Oh shit, did he say that out loud?

"So you don't mind?" She asked, her beautiful teal eyes unable to stay on his.

"Do you have a forked tongue, too?"

She frowned, confused, and made a face as if she couldn't determine if what he said was offensive or not.

"I have a perfectly human tongue. See?" She stuck her tongue out to show him that, indeed, it wasn't forked.

He jumped in. It was a bold move. Sure. Whatever. She was so kissable in that moment that he couldn't resist.

Jazz's little squeak of surprise got lost in their kiss, and for a moment she didn't know what to do with herself, but she let him into her mouth soon enough.

Knowing her canines were dangerous, he avoided them as he explored her mouth. His heart was beating so fast, unable to believe what was happening, that this was happening at last. It had been a domino of secrets falling apart, a stream of answers that were not as dangerous (to him) as he thought.

Jasmine was the person he thought he knew. The person he was falling hard for.

And she wanted him. Despite everything that was against them. Despite the incoming consequences of that decision.

As they kissed the lingering sorrow away, he knew they could face even the end of the world as long as they were together.