Chapter Text
Eleven year-old Jason squinted at the medicine bottle in his hand. A smiling bear illustration on the side proclaimed, I feel better already! in a colorful speech bubble. In Jason’s other hand, he held a separate bottle, this one boasting Extreme cough & cold relief beneath a serene photo of a sleeping man.
He put the second bottle back. The first slid into his pocket with a soft rattle. He cringed, gripping the plastic tighter as he glanced at the rounded security mirrors in the corners of the pharmacy.
The cashier at the front was distracted with a crossword, and the stock boy at the far end of the store hadn’t looked up from his boxes in ten minutes. The guard? Nowhere in sight—probably asleep in the back room.
Jason strolled toward the doors with his hands in his hoodie pocket, grip firm on the bottle to keep the pills quiet. He felt like he was smuggling a maraca.
A burst of wintry air rushed in as the doors opened for an old woman who shuffled straight for the makeup aisle. He lifted his hood against the chill.
Just ten steps until he was home free. Eight, seven—
A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder and the scowling, thickset guard spun him around. “Pockets. Now.”
Jason gave him a perfectly confused frown. “What do you mean?”
The guard reached into Jason’s hoodie before Jason could stop him and pulled out the medicine. The cartoon bear’s smile gleamed. “You planning to pay?” the man asked.
Jason felt the people by the register watching him. So much for subtly. “Of course.”
“Good. Register’s that way.”
Jason’s mask faltered ever so slightly. He lingered, sorting through his options. Play the sympathy card? No, this guy didn’t look like the type to go for tears.
The man also didn’t look very fast. Jason’s eyes skirted to the front doors.
“Don’t,” the guard warned.
“Yo!” Both Jason and the guard turned to the teenage customer leaning against the checkout counter. He looked like he’d be more at home on a ritzy magazine than a Crime Alley pharmacy—relaxed posture, expensive clothes, easy confidence.
Rich kid, Jason thought, bristling.
“Would you mind letting go of my friend?” the teen asked. “I’m paying for our stuff right now.”
“You know each other?”
“We go way back.” The teen looked at Jason, a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye. “What’d you grab, Mike?”
Jason hesitated, lagging a half-step behind before he caught on. “Uh…this.” He took the bottle from the guard and held it up.
The teen nodded, handing his card to the cashier. “Put that on here.”
Once the receipt printed and the guard’s grip loosened, Jason shoved the bottle into his pocket and bolted out the door, his backpack bouncing against his spine with each step.
“You’re welcome!” the teen called as Jason reached the end of the block and rounded the corner.
____________________________
When Jason shoved his way through Open Hands Shelter’s heavy wooden doors his whole body relaxed into familiar warmth.
Mrs. Campbell waved at him from the front desk, her round face creasing with a smile as she slid the tiny window open on the bullet-proof partition.
“Hey, Jason. Oh, hun, you don’t look too good. You feeling okay?”
“Just tired. Any spots left?”
She sighed and Jason’s heart sank. “It’s after nine. You know how it is. We’ve been full for hours.”
Of course. Open Hands was clean, safe, and miles better than the other options—which made it fill up fast. It was also the only place in the area that allowed unaccompanied minors.
“I just sent a few people over to St. Mary’s,” she went on. “They might still have beds if you hurry.”
“No, it’s okay.” St. Mary’s was for families. No way they’d let him in alone.
Mrs. Campbell leaned closer, voice dipping toward concern. “Baby, where’s your mom?”
Her tone sent a spike of fear through him. He glanced at her desk. A notecard taped by the phone was filled with numbers for social services.
“She’s outside,” Jason said quickly. “On a work call.”
“She got a job?”
He smiled like he was proud. “It’s great. Customer service.” He used to trip over himself trying to come up with lies. Now they rolled off his tongue almost more easily than the truth.
He’d made enough excuses for his mom to fill a book. Once, when she’d passed out on the couch, he’d shoved needles and bottles behind a bookshelf, stuck a pillow under her head, and told the landlord she was just napping after a long shift.
Lies kept the peace. They kept the two of them together. That was all that mattered—even these days when his mom was away just as often as she was around.
Mrs. Campbell studied him for a long moment, then said, “Wait here.” She disappeared through a door behind her desk.
Jason shifted on his feet, straining to hear in case she was making a call in the other room, but all he heard was footsteps and fabric shuffling. When she returned, her arms were full—a coat and a folded blanket.
She handed him the coat first. “This ought to fit. Zip it up all the way. Gloves are in the pockets.”
Jason slipped it on without protest. It was a little big, but it smelled clean, and the warmth was immediate.
Tucking the blanket into his backpack, she said, “This is for when you get to St. Mary’s. They don’t always have enough.”
A flicker of something strange and uncomfortable tugged at Jason’s chest. “I can’t pay for these.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m not selling them.”
“I don’t need charity, either.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “How do you know this isn’t an early birthday present?”
“My birthday passed.”
“Then it’s late. Sue me.” Mrs. Campbell gave him a smile, but her eyes lingered, searching.
He wanted to shrug the coat right back off, but it was so warm. And if he did, she might start asking questions again. Maybe even try to speak with his mom.
He couldn’t have that.
So Jason forced a smile—a skill honed over years of pretending everything was fine. He wasn’t surprised when the worry-lines melted from her brow.
People saw what they wanted to see, and no one—not even the people trying to be helpful—really wanted to see a poor kid with nowhere to go.
Mrs. Campbell was no exception. “Tell your mom I said congratulations,” she said.
“I will.” Jason stepped back into the biting cold and exhaled a massive, billowing cloud toward the starless sky.
The door thudded shut behind him.
____________________________
His new coat paired with his hoodie did a good enough job warding off the worst of the chill, but he began to shiver and sweat beneath the layers as his fever caught up to him, and he was reminded why he’d been at a pharmacy earlier.
All he wanted to do now was rest, but when he passed a boarded-up storefront, he paused.
Most of the graffiti covering the wood was familiar—standard gang tags and random doodles. But one symbol caught his eye: a jagged circle slashed through with a single, angry line.
It wasn’t spray paint. Someone had carved it directly into the wood, deep and bold. Worse, they'd sliced through every other tag on the board. The statement was clear: There was a new power in town, and they wanted everyone to know it.
Jason’s skin prickled. He’d seen gang wars start over less.
He tugged his hood low and sped up, eager not to be caught anywhere near here when the wrong people came around.
Further down the street, he spotted a pickup truck parked against a snowbank. The tires were flat, the driver’s side door frosted over—all signs it had been abandoned. Perfect.
Jason checked the street for witnesses, then pulled a coat hanger from his pocket. He bent it into shape and wedged it between the window and the door.
It took a few shimmies, but the lock gave way with a satisfying click.
The truck’s interior was freezing. Jason tried to hotwire it, but the battery was dead.
No heat tonight. He slumped back into the seat, jaw tight with frustration.
Still, it was better than wandering the streets. At least the doors locked, and it wasn’t parked under a streetlight.
Fishing the medicine from his pocket, he squinted groggily at the directions, then popped a few pills.
With the seat reclined as far as it could go, he curled up under his new blanket and stared through the cracked windshield at the hazy sky.
The Bat-Signal hung low in the clouds.
Jason used to think it meant something, back when he was a dumb kid. Like Batman was watching out for everyone. Now he knew better.
He closed his eyes and told himself it didn’t matter.
He would save himself.