Chapter Text
You see, it all happened like this. One moment Jason was minding his own business, looking out for any leftovers when he heard someone stepping out of a car. And like a pure authentic Gothamite, Jason immediately knew something was off. He glanced up, both of his hands still stuck in the dumpster near the restaurant he frequently visited when he saw a man standing a few meters away from him.
“Shit,” Jason cursed out. It was a tall man. The type of man that at first glance wouldn’t spark any suspicion, but Jason knew better. He squinted at him, looking to see if there was any recognizable trait. Chances were this was another creep who did horrible things to kids or one of dad’s ex-coworkers looking out for some petty revenge.
Jason has lost count of the times he’d been chased for stuff like that. At least the thought of Willis, the father who left him and Mom when they needed him the most, didn’t hurt so much anymore. Life on the street had toughened him a bit.
After all, you can’t mope on an empty stomach. Jason narrowed his eyes, with clear distrust. The black sunglasses and oversized jacket didn’t help either.
And so, Jason concluded it was time to go. Strategic retreat wasn’t a thing to be frowned upon. Especially here in Crime Alley, a place filled with territorial mobs. He cleaned his hands with his jacket, not caring if he stained it and nodded at the man. Maybe if he was fast enough, he could try the Community Kitchen…
Then something moved out of the corner of his eye and Jason froze on the spot. It was the man who waved, casually showing the tattoo on his hand.
The intrinsic snake tattoo on the other's hand made a chill creep up his spine. His eyes widened. It was the same one his dad had after he got a new job. The same one that culminated with his Dad ending up in jail.
So Jason did the only thing he could do: he ran.
He raced to the opposite side of the alley where a metal fence was and leaped over it, not caring if it scratched part of his hand.
“Get back here kid!” The man shouted back but Jason paid him no mind. The bullet that grazed his ear only made him run faster. He kept running, pushing people away, knocking over whatever bin or object within reach to slow the other person down. All Jason could hear was his heart beating in his ears, thumping fast in his chest.
He was scared. There was a good reason for that. In the short period, Willis had worked under the Mob he’d gained a lot of enemies. People who wouldn’t mind hurting him just to prove a point.
Five blocks later Jason paused for a split second and in a moment of desperation, he climbed over a rusty fire escape, hoping the dark would be enough to shield him.
He didn’t believe in luck anymore.
Luck was a thing meant for naïve fools and rich people. Between panting breaths, Jason heard something and held still, straining to hear. He didn’t know how much time he stayed there, hidden and petrified. It was only when the first waves of dizziness hit him that Jason noticed something was wrong. Trembling fingers reached out to his jacket, and he struggled to unbutton it. There was a deep damp spot underneath the sweater. The copper smell of blood only confirmed it.
They had shot him.
It was probably when he’d been running, that it got him.
Slowly but surely Jason got out of his hiding spot, careful to not make more noise than necessary. He craned his head to the side and calculated which street led to the only free clinic available in this forsaken city; Leslie’s clinic.
And so, Jason walked. He sucked in a deep breath when the pain spiked after the adrenaline rush dissipated. Every step Jason took only made the pain searing in his abdomen worse. He kept pushing forward one hand leaning against the wall for support and the other putting pressure on his wound, so he wouldn’t bleed to death.
Jason didn’t know how much time he walked that way. The only thing on his mind was that he was growing weaker every minute that passed. Each reaction began to slow down, another sign of blood loss, he realized with dread.
Then Jason stumbled into someone, but he was too dizzy and weakened to offer an apology. A hand grasped his neck in support after Jason almost tripped. He opened his mouth with obvious intentions to thank the stranger, except nothing came out.
“Are you okay?” The other one said, obvious confusion and worry lacing in his voice. “Do you need help?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Jason slurred out, shaking his head which only made him dizzier by the second. He licked his lips and thought of what to say next.
Jason tried to raise his head up, except it bobbled a little. He couldn’t see well, only the faint silhouette of a tall looming figure standing in front of him. Under any other circumstances, this could have brought fear, but the truth? Was that Jason was simply tired.
“Kid?”
Jason heard “wait” and then the dark figure knelt in front of him and touched his forehead with the back of his wrist. He flinched. It’s warm, Jason thought, subconsciously leaning more. A welcome change from the frigid chilly winds Gotham had.
“You’re wounded.” The stranger said, this time concerned. “Where are your parents?”
“Les-lie,” He choked out as his mouth struggled to finish the word.
“Leslie?” The other asked, now confused. Jason nodded one last time and in gratitude, he passed out.
Jason woke up to a pounding headache in the back of his head. He groaned when he realized his mouth was dry too. His groggy eyes looked down and apart from the horrible patient gown, there was an IV on his left arm. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the needle, and he swallowed the impulse to take it out.
He must have been more wounded in order for Leslie to drug him this bad. If there was one thing Jason hated with passion it was needles
When he glanced up, he noticed something was wrong with this place. First, the room was definitely brighter than he remembered which was strange because Jason didn’t remember the clinic having enormous windows or spacious rooms.
Hell, even the walls were wrong. Leslie despised the color yellow and yet the whole room was covered in soft pastel yellow tones. Two, everything hurt a lot. Oh, and three? There was a vase of flowers on the bedstand next to him.
Jason blinked twice, just to see if they were real and not a figment of his imagination. The bright and cheery bouquet of daisies remained there. He didn’t know how much he stared at them. Not that he didn’t appreciate them it was just… Weird.
Luckily the door opened, and a nurse went to greet him.
“Oh, you’re awake,” said the nurse, probably in her mid-twenties. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine?” Jason asked, confused. “Where am I?”
“Gotham general hospital,” she replied, after checking his vitals. His stomach almost dropped at the mention. It was an unspoken rule in Gotham, that they transferred only the worst or complicated cases to the Hospital. In fact, the only time he’d ended up here was when Jason hadn’t been fast enough and ended up with four broken ribs and a severe case of pneumonia.
“Do you want to see someone?” She gave another smile while fiddling with the IV bag. “I know lots of people were worried about you.”
“Who?”
“You’ll see.”
He did not expect to see the unimpressed face of Leslie Thompkins entering the room. She had her arms crossed in the “we need to talk” pose. A thing she reserved for particular occasions, like whenever one of the older kids got into drugs and arrived beaten up in her clinic-
Realization dawned upon him and he grimaced.
“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong,” Jason blurted out, on the defensive.” If the social worker thinks I got shot because of drugs tell ‘em to fuck off. I was never involved in any of that shit.”
You know why Jason wanted to add, but he kept it to himself.
“I know Jason,” Leslie said, softly. One could perfectly see that she was stressed or anxious, perhaps a mix of both. “But that’s not the reason I’m here.”
There was a brief pause as Leslie mulled how to say it.
“It’s about your family.”