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Jason didn't die in Gotham, but he came back here, and there's a connection that thrums between him and this wonderful, terrible city like a second heartbeat.
At first, he wasn't aware enough to process it, and then he was too far away with The League to feel it. Even when he finally did return to Gotham, the haze of green-tinted rage drowned it out.
But weeks passed, and the green faded, Gotham strengthening her hold on him in its place. Jason prefers that, if he's honest. She doesn't try to control him, doesn't try to manipulate his emotions or perception to achieve any of her ends. Instead, she asks for his assistance via little nudges of intuition and something that feels a little like closing his eyes and following an invisible magnetic pull, and what's he gonna do when she asks so nicely, say no? Yeah right.
So that's how Jason–not even The Red Hood, just Jason right now, in his goddamn jeans and an old hoodie of Roy's–ends up finding a woman in an alley, tucked behind a dumpster and losing blood from what looks like a bullet wound in her side.
He takes her in, the calm way she holds herself despite the injury, the way she's found some means of cover as she tries to come up with a plan of action, and he asks, “You want me to take you to the hospital or to a safe house? Either way, looks like you could use some stitches, and a Gotham alley ain't exactly the cleanest place to take care of that.”
The way she assesses him, brief but thorough, confirms his suspicion that she's dangerous. “Who are you?”
He considers how to respond. Normally, he'd lie or just refuse to answer at all, but… there's something about this woman that's important. Gotham believes that, and Jason believes in his city. So he offers, “I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
Her eyes narrow. “Black Widow.”
He whistles, long and low. He keeps it quiet enough not to risk drawing attention, but he's gotta express how impressed he is somehow. “Red Hood,” he returns. Fair is fair.
She studies him for a few moments, giving nothing of her reaction to his revelation away, before saying, “Safe house.”
Jason offers her a hand up, pretty sure she's not going to let him carry her. She sways on her feet but stays upright, allowing Jason to support her from her uninjured side as they begin the agonizingly painstaking hobble to safety.
Cleaned and stitched up, now drowning in one of Jason's shirts and a spare pair of Kori's sweatpants he'd found in the very back of his closet, Black Widow looks much less threatening. It's an illusion, but a pretty one.
Jason hands her a mug of tea and settles down on the opposite end of the couch. “You got anyone you want to call?”
She shakes her head. “My partner will find me.”
Jason raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” Even the Bats haven't found all of his safe houses, not even the ones in their respective territories. Babs probably knows about most of them, but she's good about keeping their secrets unless she has a really good reason to spill the beans.
“Yes,” she agrees calmly. The utter conviction is unnerving, but it also makes Jason a bit curious about this partner of hers.
“You could call him and save him some time,” Jason points out anyway.
She shakes her head. “No. The search is good for him. Enrichment is important.”
He studies the way her lips are just barely curving up at the corners, the way she hides twinkling eyes behind her mug of tea. “For someone trying so hard to do good,” he muses, “you're a little evil, aren't you?”
Her laugh is beautiful in the same way Cass’s laughs always are; unpracticed, genuine, and somehow sounding like they surprise her just as much as anyone else who may hear them. More, maybe. “Absolutely.”
He rolls his eyes, but it’s mostly for show. He knows the curve of his own lips gives away his amusement. “Well, okay then. How do you want to pass the time till then?”
She points immediately off to the side, like she was just waiting for him to ask. He follows the direction and… “You crochet?”
“And knit,” she agrees evenly. “Surprised?”
He shakes his head. “You remind me so much of my sister it's kinda scary.”
“Is she the one who gave you the yarn and hooks?”
Jason nods. “She tried to teach me but I haven't really gotten the hang of it.”
Black Widow sets her mug down on the side table and gestures for the yarn and supplies. “Bring it here then,” she demands. “Let's see what we're working with.”
By the time Jason has learned how to do one type of stitch somewhat reliably and managed to finish a very wonky beanie, a man comes crashing through the window.
Jason leans over the back of the couch to watch as the intruder rolls, pops up onto his feet in a fluid motion that would make even Dick jealous, and has an arrow nocked and drawn in the next moment. Staring down his eminent demise should make Jason feel something other than a weird flavor of deja vu.
“You partner?” He asks Black Widow.
“Hawkeye,” she says, like it's an agreement. “Stand down,” she tells the man.
His eyes move to her–the bow does not waver even as his gaze shifts–and he checks her over before he nods, loosening his draw and angling the bow away from Jason's head. “I have gotta introduce you to someone,” Jason says a little dazedly, because Hawkeye and Roy will either become best friends or mortal enemies; either way, Jason wants front row seats to that show.
Black Widow laughs again and rises to her feet, leaning over to snag the lumpy hat from Jason's lap. “Thank you for the help,” she says, pulling it on over her messy curls and smiling.
He could protest that the hat was supposed to be for Cass, but he's pretty sure he can make another one for her now that Black Widow’s helped him with some basics. “Anytime,” he says instead, and is only a little surprised by how much he means it.
She leans in and kisses his cheek, and then she and Hawkeye are vanishing back out the window.
Shit. That's gonna be a bitch to fix.
Problem for tomorrow, Jason decides, and gets up so he can start to gear up for patrols. Crime never sleeps, but neither does Gotham, so whatever the night brings, he's got it well in hand.