Jason Todd

{from here}

Jay opens the door the key matches. It's not a dungeon (to Jay's relief) but it has a big sturdy bed with obvious mounting points, low rafters (with more mounting points} and a chest full of interesting toys. And straps and chains and stuff.

And an easy clean floor. And a nice bathroom.

Right then.

Jay let sleep overcome him after a particularly heated session with Eric.

Halfway through the night, the bed beside him dipped softly and a warm body slid in next to him – long and warm and carrying the scent of the desert at night.

Ali.

It had been nearly three years subjectively since Ali died in Jay’s arms, an innocent victim in the conflict between Jay and the League of Shadows.

And yet that spicy sweet scent drew him back in an instant to his lover, dead only a few short days before the first time Jay came to the bar.

Jay refused to open his eyes, to risk losing this dream.

Ali’s voice is a soft rumble, like a lion. Jay’s Wobe was never very good when they were together and nor was Ali’s English but neither of them ever needed much in the way of words. Jay feels lips against his throat, Ali’s broad hands on his stomach.

This was their way. Jay had never let Ali’s status as HIV positive get in the way of their relationship, even if it was within parameters safe for them both.

He opened his eyes then, needing to see. It was Ali’s eyes he fell for first. So dark they were almost black but flecked with gold. Like looking up at the clear night’s sky and seeing it ablaze with stars. He had watched those stars go out but there they were, bright as a universe of light.

“Ali, I-“

Warm fingers touched his lips, hushing him gently before returning to exploring his body.

They made love slowly, sharing the unrushed passion of their last days together. In the afterglow, they laid in each other’s arms.

“I’ve missed you.” Jay whispered, kissing Ali’s hand, unable to look away those night-sky eyes. “I was so lost without you.”

Ali stroked his cheek and hushed him again, getting up to cast around the room. He returns with a photo album. He settled back into Jay’s arms, flicking through the photos there.

“Sherral. Eric. Alfred. Emcee.” Jay named his lovers as Ali hold up the photos. Not that he kept an album of his lovers and friends. That should have warned him that this was a dream but his mind didn’t want to dwell on that. Ali’s warmth in his arms felt real enough. “Autor, Rae, Gav, Charles, Jemma, William, James, Sam, Cy. Yeah, they’re all friends here.”

Ali turned to look him in the eye, stroking Jay’s cheek. His dark eyes seem to hold both a question and a point.

“I get it.” Jay nodded, running his hand through Ali’s short hair. “I’m not alone any more. When I lost you, I had no-one, but not anymore.” He kissed Ali’s neck, his throat. “That doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Ali pushed Jay back down, looking him in the eyes again and shaking his head. “Famille” He whispers in the heavily accented French that served as a second language for much of the Ivory Coast.

Family.

Jay woke to the warm spicy scent still lingering on his sheets and skin. And a lightness in his heart.

[from here}

The view behind the door is one of desolation. Windswept and bleak. If there was ever vegetation here, it is long gone. The air is thin and cold, acrid with smoke. Jay reached into his belt and pulls out a small rebreather and goggles, offering a set to Gav.

Stock shudders on Jay's shoulder, making soft sounds of distress. "It's okay, darling. You're safe with us."

{from here}

Jay's room is large but simple. A large bed in one corner, a couch and TV in another. The rest of the room move is workbenches and lockers except for a small kitchenette.

The benches are covered in blueprints, sketches and tools. Small projects are set up on one side - a production line of small electrical components. The bathroom beyond the open door boasts a truly massive shower and bath. Jay clearly enjoys entertaining.

"Welcome to my place." Jay shrugs. "It's not much but it does me."

Jay's room is the usual mess but with his combat suit thrown over the back of a chair to dry. It has the slightly rumpled look of hard use.

Jay leads Emcee over to the bed and hugs him warmly. "Would you like me to run you a bath?"

{From here]

Jay grabs his gear, both his bikes, and his five little drones. He hits the door to the forest at speed, sending the drones one way and the spare bike another, fanning them out across the various forest tracks.

He hasn't had time to fiddle with his suit but he has managed to record breathing and heartbeat recordings with each of the drones. Scent is an issue as the seal on the suit isn't perfect but it's worth a try.

Jay's room is the usual mess it always is, plans for a playground scattered all over the bench but the bed is large and inviting.

{from here}

Jay walks till he reaches a stand of trees, private enough to be screened from the bar and veranda but has a good view of the clear night's sky. He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on a low branch. He rolls up his sleeve and offering it to Eric, knowing the vampire is only a few steps behind him.

{from here}

Jay lead Sherral up to his room, pouring him a large glass of water before offering him a proper drink. "Would you like a shower or a bath before I give you a massage?"

London looked exactly like I remembered; dichotomous blend of old and new, of shining glass skyscrapers and ancient stone. Heathrow however, as exactly the same hell as any other airport in the world.

It wasn’t hard to pick up the tracing signal Drake had given me for Squire but I was in no mood to find her just yet. Jetlag is a bitch; no matter who you are and what I wanted was sleep. And there’s no point having three thousand dollar suit and a platinum American Express if you can’t walk into any five star hotel without a single reservation or question.

I woke up to find the room’s TV screen displaying a white rose and the address of a nightclub on the east side. “Screw you, Beryl.” I muttered, going in search of coffee. It was too early late for games like that.

When I’d topped up my caffeine content and showered airplane stink out of my hair, I returned to find the message had changed to a kiss mark and the words No need to dress up. Leave the toys at home.

I growled at the screen and changed into jeans and my leather jacket, a knife down the side of my boot. I could accept leaving the guns behind but I was damned if I was going anywhere completely unarmed.

The cabbie didn’t look impressed to be picking up a scruffy looking American from one of the most expensive hotels in the city, clearly pegging me for a rent boy but he took my money all the same.

The club, like all the city, wore its history on its sleeve. Stained wood and low ceilings opened out to stage and dance floor. It was hard to pin down the theme of the place, oscillating between punk, goth and glam seemingly between breaths. Decades of sweaty, dirty rebellion soaking into the very pores of the place.

I found a drink and a corner with a view of the door. It wasn’t hard to spot her, even if I hadn’t seen her for over five years. She wore her cover well - a manic pixie dream girl with boyish red hair, Ziggy Stardust make-up and a Space Oddity jacket. I knew from the way she didn’t look at me, she knew I was there. She danced shamelessly close to a waifish, gender ambiguous youth who’s Robert Smith look dripped black hair dye down the back of hir neck in the close, humid air. I followed her eyeline and caught what she was trying to get me to notice.

The drug deal happening in the far corner; discreet but there was an edge to it, something hurried and tense. She signed something against the back of her dance partner’s black tee shirt. Bad juice. Need sample

Fine! I finished my drink and made my way across the floor. The press of bodies moved around me; hot and tight and all hands. I don’t think I’ve been that well groped since the limo mistake when I was thirteen. Any other time and in some other mood, it might have been fun but right now, I didn’t need the distraction.

And that is itself gave me away. I moved too directly, too intently on my target and spooked the dealer’s muscle. Cursing myself for a fool, I doubled back, intending to meet them in the alley as they slipped out the door but the Cure wannabe caught me on the way. “Come dance with me. She said you would.” Hir eyes were piss-holes in the snow, high as a kite. I could see now why Beryl had an eye on hir; whatever the dealers were selling, this youth had taken and taken too much.

“One dance then.” I conceded, looking down at the youth. Skinny and heavily made up, I had a sudden flash of what Emcee might have looked like as a boy. Utterly lacking in Emcee’s self possessed charm but it was there. “But you should drink some water first.”

Ze grumbled and let me guide hir to the bar, my hand rested on hir collar to keep a measure of hir pulse. Too fast. Even flushed with dancing and lust judging from what I saw, far too fast.

Ze moulded against me and I suddenly felt very, very old.

Beryl reappeared a moment later and before she could get in a word of greeting, I mouthed ambulance. She nodded and was gone again and I set to convincing the youth to come outside with me. I could feel this going very pear shaped, very fast. Then someone screamed over the pounding music.

Whatever the dealers were selling, they got out quick for a reason. It was clearly bad news.

After some serious juggling (we were there in civilian identities and all) we managed to get out of the club as the police and EMTs started their work. Half hour later, we were sitting on the roof a couple of blocks away, sharing fish and chips from a greasy wrap of paper.

“Well, that sucked.” She muttered, leaning back on the slate tiles.

I nodded and was about to say something but she put out a hand to stop me.

“It wasn’t your fault. I spooked them earlier so their guard was high and they were almost out for the night. No apology needed.”

Damn! I’d almost forgotten about her near telepathic ability to read body language.

She broke off a lump of fried fish and picked at it. “I heard you had a bad run recently. I’ve got to say, you’re in better shape than I was led to expect.”

I looked across at her and give her a wry look.

“Red Robin.” She answers the unasked question, “I like him. Don’t you?”

“Do you even need to ask me?” I muttered, stealing a chip. It was an effort not to flush. How the fuck had Drake gotten under my skin so fast.

“Not really but I wanted to see your reaction.” She smiled, bumping my shoulder in a surprisingly friendly gesture. “So, are you going to help me bust this drug ring? I need to find out what’s in the stuff so I can track the manufacture.”

I reached into a pocket and pulled out a plastic wrapper, still crusted with a fine later of white powder on the inside.

“Where?” She demanded, looking faintly annoyed.

“Your Robert Smith friend. Back right pocket.” I might have been gloating. A little.

She poked her tongue out at me. “I need to get this back to Sheldrake Castle for analysis.”

I pulled it back as she went to take it. “I’ve got somewhere closer. I’ll sort it out and be back soon.”

She studied my face for a long moment. “I’m not sure if I trust you with this, Red Hood. You are a bad guy after all.” She must have seen the thunder in my face because she held her hands out in surrender. “But Red Robin vouched for you and that’s enough for me. Do your thing and we’ll plan our next step.”

I polished off the last vinegary chunk of fried potato and stood up, balancing easily on the slippery tiles. “I’ll see you soon, Squire.” And dropped off the ledge.