SHE WASN'T DRUNK by the time he came back out. Instead, she'd settled comfortably on the sofa, and was just watching the opening credits of some movie. He blinked. "Pride and Prejudice?"

"Felt like it," she mumbled, curling herself into a little ball. "It's my comfort movie." The sentence was punctuated with a long swig from a can of beer.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not like I can stop you, can I?"

He opened the fridge and took out his bottle of orange juice, giving it a little shake. Not much left. He could finish it tonight. He moved over to the other end of the hotel suite, settling down comfortably beside her, leaning backwards. "It's one of those things that's so charming about Gotham, isn't it?"

"What, the random villain attacks?"

"Of course."

She sniggered. "I'm more surprised one's only happened now. I suppose I'm rather unlucky. I seem to keep finding myself in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'd argue you've been lucky this time. You could be dead or injured."

"Again, I know what to do in situations like that."

"Trust me. Joker gas? An ordinary gas mask isn't going to do shit."

She hummed. "I suppose that's fear."

She hadn't showered yet, but she'd slipped out of her jacket and turtleneck, exposing the sports bra beneath. She seemed comfortable showing skin around him. He wasn't sure what to think about that. Did she just trust him that much?

A few times over the past few days, he'd caught himself wondering if she was flirting. Her reaction to his body. Her lingering stares, following him around the room. Her unabashed, utterly unembarrassed reactions to him pointing it out. It made him... think.

Overthink, perhaps.

"Are you a fan of romances?"

"I enjoy them," came her answer. She tilted her head. "It's a nice fantasy, I suppose."

"You haven't considered romance at all in the past year, have you? The past five years, even?"

"I dated around in London." Another sip from the beer. "I didn't want to make connections I didn't need in Gotham. Not like I can't live without a boyfriend anyways. What about you? Any girlfriends?"

"Not many." He rubbed his forehead. "I'm not exactly the most emotionally available guy, as you might have noticed."

"Ah, that makes two of us."

"It's the trauma."

"It's always the trauma." She didn't say anything for a bit, watching on the screen as Darcy and his entourage entered the ballroom. Then, she turned her head a little. "There was never a good choice for me. No one else understood."

"I understand," came his soft response. The moment felt strangely intimate. He turned too, meeting her gaze, and he was suddenly acutely aware of how close their faces were. Up close, he could make out the texture of her skin—looked like it leaned towards the drier side, though he was no dermatologist, and the little fleck in her eyes, and the way her lashes were long but straight, making them look far shorter than they actually were. Her eyes were a little glazy, as if she was far away, and his eyes dropped to her mouth for a split second before he turned away.

She was tempting him. Constantly. He just had to figure out whether she was doing it on purpose or not.

There were many reasons why this was a bad idea: she was Cyrene's sister, for starters. Cyrene, who he'd had a tiny crush on back in the day. The fact that she was young—not that young, a nagging voice in the back of his head muttered—and in a vulnerable spot in life. The fact that she was lonely, extremely lonely, and craved companionship whether she realised it or not.

Or the fact that, like she'd just said, she was emotionally unavailable and unwilling to stay. Two broken pieces didn't make a whole, he knew that. He'd seen it firsthand with his parents. They both deserved better. They were both broken. He was rotten inside, and she had a sister-shaped hole carved into her heart she could never fill.

"Maybe someday I'll find someone," she said wistfully, tilting her head. "Find my own Mr Darcy, you know. Or if not, I'll be fine by myself anyways. Either way, I'll be happy."

He wanted to tell her that happiness wouldn't come so easily to people like them. That he'd tried so hard for the past few years, but it had all been futile. But maybe she'd be different. Maybe she'd be luckier. Dear god, he hoped she'd be happier.

Sometimes, he looked at his brothers with envy. Dick, who'd escaped Bruce's shadow, gained his respect, and operated with independence. Who was emotionally stable and always there for them, who'd made peace with his past and chosen to move on into the future. Even with Remiel oceans away, the two remained stable. Close.

He looked at Tim, the boy-genius for whom everything seemed to come so effortlessly. He looked at Damian, the blood son, the one who'd always belong no matter what.

Then there was him. Middle child (did he count as the middle child, or did he share that honour with Tim?), the black sheep, the one Bruce refused to wholly trust, the ticking timebomb waiting to explode into a fiery pit of despair. And perhaps bringing down some of the people he cared about with him.

And every once in a while, he stared at Callie. Younger daughter who'd lost it all. Cyrene had chosen to be Atlas, to carry the weight of their world on her shoulders, but then Atlas fell and the load transferred immediately. A girl who hadn't had family for the past five years, who'd lived in effective solitude, shutting the world off and pulling herself tighter and tighter into a little ball.

It was why he'd agreed to help her in the first place. Why he'd wanted her to tag along, be with him on this quest for vengeance rather than handling it himself like Bruce would have wanted. He stared at Callie and saw himself, nine years old, crawling out of his grave and furious at the world for letting him down. He'd failed her the same way Bruce had failed him, and while Bruce refused to complete the mission, to take out the Joker, he'd make sure he took out Swinton.

This piece of responsibility, he would not let her carry. He could have that burden. He should have that burden.

"Jason?" She sounded quizzical. "You alright?"

"Yeah." He sounded rough, even to his own ears. "I'm fine."

She hummed a little tune under her breath. He couldn't make out what it was. Then she reached for the can of beer on the table and took a long swig. That was when he realised she was already on her second. He held his tongue as she reached for a third.

"You're going to regret this tomorrow," he finally said with a sigh. "There's other ways to deal with grief."

"This is the most efficient."

"It really is not."

"What else do you suggest, then?" she turned, batting her lashes at him. "Do you want me to cry?"

"That'd be more useful than getting drunk out of your mind, believe me."

"When's the last time you cried, Jason Todd?"

"I can't remember." That was truth.

"So what's your method of dealing with grief, then?"

"It was going on a murderous rampage, but now I've decided to try out meditation and reading."

She let out a loud, loud snort. "Trust me, neither will work on me. I've tried it all already. And then I realised drinking really was the best method." She lowered her head. "Cyrene would hate it, I know. You don't have to say it."

"I think you need to stop thinking about what she might feel," Jason whispered. "She's dead. It doesn't matter anymore. You can't live trapped in her approval and expectations forever."

"It's the only thing keeping me alive, Jason."

She'd turned away, practically sprawled on the sofa, her head facing the other direction. Her hand was mere millimetres away from this thigh—and he was wearing shorts.

There was a confession in those words. An admittance of the things that went through her head. Callie Wan was a girl who'd lost the purpose to live, to take care of herself, to keep on breathing.

God, he wanted to save her.

But he couldn't even save himself.

"I like to imagine she's just on holiday somewhere. And that she checks up on me sometimes, makes sure I'm taking good care of myself. I'll lie to her about some stuff, of course, but there's some things you just can't hide. Yeah, I'm eating well, Cyrene. Yeah, I'm sleeping well. Absolutely." Her fists clenched. The movie on the screen was forgotten. "It makes me feel a little safer. There was a really long time where I was constantly on alert, always paranoid, constantly losing my mind."

"Are you better now?"

"Yeah," she murmured. And then her eyes met his. "I feel safe around you, I think. I don't know why. Should I feel safe around you?"

"I can fight off most people."

"It's not just the physical aspect, though there is some of that." She inched a little closer, and then before he knew it her head was on his shoulder. He could swear he stopped breathing. "Even mentally. Being around you just makes me feel safe. It shouldn't, though. And it's a bad idea for me to get used to this. Because I'm going to leave."

"You're drunk."

She let out a little huff of laughter. "Trust me, my alcohol tolerance isn't that bad. I'm as sober as I can be, Todd."

"So what are you doing?" he wondered aloud.

"I don't know. Seeking warmth. Companionship. Safety." She snuggled a little closer. "I think I prefer you shirtless, by the way."

He stood up immediately, leaving her sprawled on the sofa. "Calypso Wan."

"You can say no if you want." She didn't seem too affected, placing her chin on her hands. "I'm hardly in a position to force you to do anything. You know, I always thought you might have had a thing for my sister. Is that it?"

Cyrene was the last thing on his mind right now.

"No. You are a bit drunk, even if you won't admit it, and you're extremely vulnerable and lonely. You're not doing this because you want to, you just crave companionship."

"And isn't that a perfect description of you as well?" she asked, tilting her head. "Minus the drunk bit, I suppose. Don't worry about taking advantage of me. If anything, I think I'm the one taking advantage of you."

"You said you weren't looking for a boyfriend."

"Who said anything about that? Sit down, Jason." She let out a laugh, pulling herself back into a sitting position. "I'll sit all the way at the other end of this sofa, where you won't have to worry about me anymore. Does that make you feel better?"

He decided honestly was the best response. "No, not really. It really doesn't. You should take a shower."

"I don't want to go to bed stinking of beer."

"You think you'll be able to take a shower drunk?"

She batted her lashes. "You could help me, couldn't you?"

"Calypso Wan Yuqin!"

She blinked, genuinely a bit flummoxed this time. "You remember my Chinese name?" She was suddenly silent for a long moment. "I think it's been years since anyone's called me that."

"It was on the file. That Bruce gave me." He didn't tell her how many times he'd read through it, again and again, trying to unravel the mystery that was Callie Wan until the words were permanently imprinted in his head.

She pouted. He couldn't help but stare at her lips. "Well that's boring, isn't it?"

"You're doing this because you're bored," he accused. "Callie. I'm the guy who got your sister killed."

Her eyes cleared up a little and she sat straighter. "No you didn't."

"I'm responsible. Indirectly, but still responsible."

"Scarecrow killed her. Rudolph Swinton killed her. She agreed to help you of her own free will. You didn't expect it to happen either. I can't just blame it on you. I know I did, but that was because you were the nearest, most convenient target. I don't blame you for it anymore. But have you stopped blaming yourself?"

"Clearly not," he said without much humour.

"Sit down, Jason. You've been nice to me for so long, let me do something for you. I know what you're feeling, see? I'm just as broken as you. We both have that Cyrene-sized hole in our hearts—is that it? Are you in love with my sister? You didn't answer me straight earlier."

"I told you no."

"So what is it, then? Guilt?"

"I destroy everything around me, Callie. I don't want you to be collateral damage as well. Not when you're this close to a better, normal life."

"I chose to be here. I chose this life. You didn't force me into it. Even if not for that mission, Cyrene would have been in danger over and over again. This might have eventually happened anyways."

"Doesn't change the fact she died under my watch."

"You're not omnipotent."

"I could have done better."

"Who do you compare yourself to in your head?" she asked curiously, crossing her legs on the sofa, still facing him. "Batman?"

"Sometimes."

"Those brothers of yours, then. Do you not get along with them?"

"Depends on the occasion."

"I think circumstances made sure that Cyrene and I never had a sibling rivalry," she murmured. "But I can see, in a family like yours... It's like a constant battle, yes? Who comes out on top? Who outshines the others?"

"We're all replacements for each other. And we'll never be enough."

Why was he telling her this? She didn't need to know. She wanted to leave this world, she hated his world. But at the same time, she understood. He could never quite talk about that pressure on all of them because it seemed so... ridiculous. Because it would be weakness, and they didn't want to expose their own weaknesses to the world.

How often did he, Dick, Tim and even Damian stare at each other's achievements and feel bitterness and insecurity instead of pride and joy for the other?

"And yet none of them would be a better Red Hood than you. That is a part of you that is wholly unique and impossible to replicate. None of the others would have been able to cleanse the Gotham underground the way you did, put on that reign of terror."

"Damian could."

"He doesn't know Gotham like you. He would have hurt innocents on the way. You went straight for the heads, only the guilty. That is your strength." She was staring at him like she meant every word that escaped her mouth. He just stood there like an innocent, looking right back at her, feeling completely exposed.

Her feet met the ground and she walked towards him.

He lowered his head. "I should go."

"You just don't like me, then?" Callie tilted her head. "I won't be offended. You could just say that and I'll stop."

"It's not like that."

"What is it, then?" she growled, spinning on her heel to storm back towards the sofa. But his hand shot out to grab her arm before he could stop himself. She turned her head back around. "What?"

"It's a bad idea to form any more ties than necessary to a world you want to escape."

"So you're doing this for my own good, huh?"

"For both of our goods." He was serious. Why start something that was doomed to fail? Why set yourself up for heartbreak that you already saw coming?

Because it was so easy for someone like him to fall in love with someone like Callie. Both so broken, such lonely souls, wandering around like ghosts trying to find a house to haunt. But she wanted to leave and he didn't want to tie her down. And he didn't want to hurt himself anymore than he already had.

Now she sounded frustrated. "Does it matter? All things come to an end. Even if it's just one night, one day, one week, what matters was that it was something at that moment. The end doesn't matter as much as the process, does it?"

"I don't like starting things I know will end poorly."

"I'm not asking for a relationship. I'm not asking for anything else more than... more than just a flirtation. A kiss. A little light-hearted fun."

"It's difficult to just keep things that way." God, when had he become the responsible, mature one? He didn't like it at all.

"Just one kiss. Nothing else. Is that really too much to ask for?"

But it would never be just that. Things were never that simple, though he wished they were. Humans were such strange, complicated creatures. They had to make everything more difficult for themselves, forming bonds and attractions at the most inconvenient times and with the most inconvenient people.

Right person, wrong time.

But would there ever have been a right time for him and Callie Wan?

He was so lost in his own mind he didn't even realise she'd moved so close to him, that she'd gotten on her tiptoes and pulled his face down until she could press her lips against his. And he could still taste the faint tinge of beer on them. He leaned down to make it easier for her, and her hands shifted from his face to around his neck.

What am I doing?

But that was quickly overshadowed by, Damn, that feels nice.

Her lips were soft and greedy. Pushing further, harder, he could sense her frustration and her need, and all his rationality had been blown out the window.

Just one kiss. I could bear the consequences.

—

IT DIDN'T END with just one kiss. She was straddling him on the sofa, arms still around his neck, and their lips and teeth clashed together again and again, half-battle, half-flirtation. He pulled his fingers through her long, dark hair, having thrown the scrunchie that kept it in a ponytail somewhere across the room a while ago.

He'd lost track of how long they'd been in this position.

He was drunk on the taste of her, and he realised that he didn't care what happened next.

It was a long time before they parted, and she placed her forehead against his. "Damn."

"Take a shower and go to sleep, Callie. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Her eyes met his. "You could join me?"

A faint smile appeared on his lips, and he reached up with his fingers to touch her cheeks. "Not this time, sweetheart. You need rest."

"I'm just going to lie on my bed and do anything but sleep and you know it."

"Doesn't matter." He nipped at her lips. "Go to sleep."

"You're mean, Todd."

"This can't be anything more. Your rationality will return to you soon and you'll see how bad of an idea this was. We can pretend this never happened tomorrow."

She scowled. "You're seriously saying this while I'm still sat on your lap." She wriggled a little, as if to prove a point.

He winced. "I realise how ridiculous it seems... But one of us have to say it, Callie."

"Whatever." She got to her feet. "I'll take your advice and go... shower. And then... lie on my bed." That final statement was punctuated with a cheeky wink, and Jason could only swallow as he watched her walk away to her own room, slamming the door shut behind her without another glance at him.

He was fucked.

MMMMMMMMMMMM what we thinking girls and boys
i quite like the idea of callie being the bold one while jason's trying his damned hardest to be rational (and he's also a little shy though he'd refuse to admit it)
she's just going to keep fucking with him now while he tries his best to resist lol