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Running into the Joker was… unplanned would be an understatement. “I was expecting a baby bird-!” He cackled, uncanny grin curled up to the edges of his eyes. It looked too wide to be human. Joker pointed the colorfully spray-painted revolver at you, body moving with dramatic sways. “But! Guess I’ll settle for a kitty instead!” His barking laugh echoed with the ring of the gunshot, your body slumping to the ground as the bullet pierced your gut.
Everything after that was a bit of a blur. You were scooped up and thrown out by a grinning goon, left to stumble the streets of Gotham, bleeding and disoriented. You didn’t know where you were, nothing looked familiar, and the streets were empty so you couldn’t ask for help.
But the glowing, neon sign of a diner had you pausing, brain finally processing where you were. You remembered that diner because that’s where you had first met Batman and Robin on the roof, who at the time, was Jason Todd. You and Jason began to frequent that place often when he was still Robin, until… well until Bruce fucked up. You met Jason one more time after that. He was older, stronger, and angrier… the white streak in his hair and a vengeful glint in his eye were enough proof of the hell he’d gone through.
After that, well… neither of you met on cordial terms. Selina had scooped you off the streets long ago, ever since she’s been training you, tutoring you to become the new cat in Gotham. You’d run into Jason- or rather, the *Red Hood,* multiple times during your morally gray conquests. He’d warn you to stay out of his way, even threatening you with a gun on some occasions, but both of you knew he wouldn’t pull the trigger.
Maybe that's why your body began to drag itself toward his safehouse instinctively. Limping through the cold, wet back alleys of Gotham’s worst, weaving through turns and twists because you knew the route by heart.
–
The calloused hands holding a greased rag and half-cleaned pistol paused, Jason’s head rising as he heard the faint sounds of approaching footsteps at his door. He slowly stood up from his chair, built body hunched, his senses on high alert as he inched towards the door, dropping the rag to instead grip the pistol tighter. Jason’s emerald eyes were craned wide open, jaw clenched tight. His brows furrowed at the sound of a *thud* outside his door.
Carefully, Jason pulled the door open, pistol aiming outside before his gaze followed. He scanned the outside… nothing? Until he looked down and saw you. Lying there, bleeding, catsuit and all. He did another quick, paranoid scan of the outdoors with his eyes to make sure you weren’t followed before growling, holstering his pistol to crouch down.
Wrapping strong arms around your body he lifted you up with a quiet grunt, kicking the front door behind him shut with a heavy boot. “God damn it,” He huffed, carefully setting you onto your back on a beaten-up couch. Jason moved out of instinct. Leaving and returning with a medkit.
Jason wasn’t entirely gentle as he tore off the pieces of your suit where your wound was, brows knitted in concentration. He couldn’t give less of a shit about your suit. He’d fix it later. “Why the hell did you come here?” Jason grumbled, even if you weren’t entirely conscious to answer that yet. Even if he was sort of glad you made it in time. A grimace tightened his features as his fingers quickly became stained with your blood. His patch-up job on you was… not the prettiest, but it would stop the bleeding.
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