Jason thought about a great number of things in the first ten-seconds when he saw Luke got beaten to a bloody pulp by two enormous men in the secret room.

He thought about himself, oddly enough. His mind wondered through a distant memory, one where a boy was shielding his head with his bare hands from a crowbar held by a madman. All the smacking and cracking. The blood and lost hope. He remembered the sneer of the clown looking down at him, talking to him in that disgustingly mocking voice, "Won't you sing for me, little bird?". But of course he did not scream. He had wanted to, but he'd known that it would not do for a hero to succumb to a criminal's taunt. He just needed to hold on a little bit longer, he had told himself. Wait until Batman arrived (because of course he would make it, why on earth not?) and showed the Joker who's really boss.

The clock was ticking, though, and his mother had still been tied up. Twenty-seconds until the building blew up. Jason loosen the tie of his mother's rope. She had been grateful. She had smiled at him. He felt like he was being a perfectly good son for the first time. Fifteen-seconds. Why wasn't Bruce here yet? Twelve-seconds. No matter. Just another few steps and — oh. The door had been locked.

Ten-seconds.

Jason jolted back into reality. Ten-seconds. Just ten little seconds, that was all he needed to register his shock and turned that into raw anger. He charged at the men and brought one down with his fist. Boy, did they seemed surprised. He hoped the man's face had hurt as much as his hand was aching from the impact of the blow. Before the other goon could throw a punch at him (as he had predicted before he had acted), Jason swept his foot and it collided with the man's legs. He lost balance and fell. Jason allowed himself a small amount of satisfaction at how easy these idiots were to take down. The feeling of rage had not yet diminished from him, though. Luke was still hurt.

He was about to attend to Luke before he felt a rush of air behind him. When he turned around, Cass was there, and the first goon had his arms pinned behind him, cringing in pain. Oh, she was good, that he could not deny. It was obvious that Asshole One had stood up and was going to hit him when he had his back turned, if not for Pretty Bat to the rescue. Nonetheless, Jason didn't think the blow would be a problem at all. If he did smack him, it would only cost Jason a tiny momentum of annoyance. The goon would be out cold in just a matter of seconds after that.

Still. Cass did got his back and Jason was nothing if not a (murdering vigilante) gentleman, so he waved a hand absentmindedly and muttered, "Thanks."

He received a nod in return, but he could have sworn he glanced a mischievous smirk on her face the moment he just turned away. Heh. Cocky creep. Peculiarly, Jason found that he did not mind her subtle act of pride at all. If ever, he found it to be a redeeming quality to the bat symbol she had so proudly wore on her chest. A tad of arrogance was always refreshing, he thought to himself. Not that he was ever going to admit that, of course. It was too dangerous to associate with these nocturnal creatures that he once was apart of.

Cass seemed to have Asshole One taken care of, so Jason stepped on Asshole Two's head until he was sure he passed out. Just to be on the safe side.

Now on to the hard part: Luke. Jason crouched down beside him and held his hands — a bit of comfort after going through hell for the last couple of weeks. He knew it wouldn't help much, but seeing Luke lying down helpless with blood on his mouth and nose and forehead, he just needed to do something. He felt like he had lost the boy who ate pizza with him every Friday night to someone who couldn't even open his eyes because they were so swollen. Luke was wheezing instead of breathing, and every inhale seemed as painful as the slashes in Jason's guts. His yellow jacket and jeans were tattered. Dirt was covering the fabric of his clothes. Someone had been busy, Jason thought bitterly.

"Got the kids out," Luke choked out. "Daisy's with them. They're in Gotham Elementary."

Jason looked at Cass. He half-expected her to run straight to the door that very instant and to start searching for the children right away. After all, that was her whole purpose of sticking with Jason, wasn't it? It was just a matter of unfortunate accident that Jason's tiny acquaintance, Daisy, was unlucky enough to have gotten herself kidnapped, and Jason happened to have a lead on the criminal. Then there was that whole fiasco with Luke wanting to rescue his sister despite his inability to fight, and as such, it was up to Jason to bring home that stubborn girl and to keep her brother to behave at the same time. This whole mess made him felt like he was a fussy mother who had to keep things in order while being followed around by a spooky shadow of the night. He wished this nightmare would end soon. He had had enough of social interactions for now.

But Cass stayed. She opened her mouth, presumably to say something (unless she needed to yawn or whatever, but Jason doubted that), then closed it again. He interpreted the shaking of her head meant something along the line of "never mind," but he had a bad feeling that it was something more. He decided to ignore it, though. Maybe he was just thinking too much.

"We need to get you to the hospital," Jason looked down at Luke, scooping him up gingerly. The boy just nodded weakly, and Jason worried if he inflicted further damage to him.

"I called back-up," Cass said her first words since they arrived. "She's downstairs."

"Back up?" Jason raised one eyebrow behind his hood.

"Yes. Downstairs."

Jason didn't need Cass to repeat what he already knew, damn it. He needed her to give an eloquent and adequate explanation as to why on the devil's splendid world, did she have to call back-up that they hardly require. He had everything under control, didn't he? Make a temporary team with a frightening daughter of an assassin, check. Find Riley the Rapist and resolve to not finish him brutally, double check. Bully him until he tell them where the children are, check. Actually rescuing the children — well, Luke had pretty much taken care of that, hadn't he? All they have to do now was to pick the brats up along with Daisy. Everything was perfectly under control.

Except Cass didn't seem to think so, because she had already fled downstairs to meet this back-up person. Grunting a little, Jason had no choice but to follow suit. He tucked Luke safely on his arms, who was quite light for a twelve-year-old, and continued to pursue Cass to the first floor.

What Cass described as "back-up" was apparently a blonde girl in a purple-ish bat costume riding a motorcycle twice her size. She cheerfully greeted Cass as if they were high school friends, as if she didn't know that Cass was capable of rendering a man unconscious with just a press of her fingers. As it happens, Blondie seemed to have adapted a comfortable and light demeanor to Pretty Bat. She spoke easily enough: "Yo. Came her as fast as I could, since I'm the only one available right now. And this must be ... hey, you look familiar."

Jason shrugged nonchalantly.

Blondie gasped.

"Batgirl ..." Cass started, but Purple Girl was shaking her head frantically.

"He told you not to!"

"I don't always do what he said," replied Cass, then added, "and you don't either."

Jason nodded appreciatively and chimed in, "Amen." He grinned at the pair of them, pleased that they were nothing like that obedient boy who was his successor — what was his name? Tim Drake? No, Tim Wayne, he had been told. Bah! Fucking replacement. Swinging his goody-two-shoes wings here and there, flaunting that R sign on his chest like it was a personal medal or something. Jason heard that he was the leader of the Teen Titans. He thought about the lack of statue he had in the Titans' tower memorial hall, but quickly cleared that out of his mind. He was getting off track. No use pitying himself at this crucial time, now, was there? He had to focus on Luke. The boy was squirming painfully against his body.

"Nice meeting you, Blondie," said Jason, approaching the motorcycle. "But we have to go. Excuse me." He seated Luke on the vehicle, right in front of Purple Girl. Then he gripped her waist to lift her up. She slapped his face. Hard. Ouch. What was it with girls and slapping, he thought angrily. Really! He was just trying to move things faster, and actually had the brilliant initiative to get Blondie out of the way quick so that he could ride the damn machine and get Luke the proper medication that he needed. Plus, he had said, "Excuse me," hadn't he?

Jason was about to voice his protest, when Cass grabbed his arm and jumped on top of the motorcycle, securing Luke in his arms. Little miss Blondie got off the bike, startled by Cass' action. Again, Jason didn't exactly have a say in this, as he was forced to ride the thing as well. It irked him a little to have to sit at the back, but he digressed. He watched with great anticipation while Cass started the engine and it roared beautifully for everyone (well, at least the three of them, not counting unconscious Luke) to hear. He felt good and alive and his veins were rushing with adrenaline, and this time it was the good kind of rush, not the raging one he had when he knocked Luke's assailants out.

"We're borrowing this," Cass said to Purple Girl. "Gotham Elementary's just a few blocks away. You can ... pick up the children there."

"Children?" She seemed puzzled, but Cass was already driving away with maximum speed. The last thing Jason heard was Blondie's cry of "YOU SO OWE ME BIG FOR THIS!"

Grinning, Jason said, "I think I like your style."

"Can't say the same about yours," Cass replied. "Sorry."

"Didn't think you would. Anyway. Who's the eggplant?"

"Funny, that was ... how she described the color too," said Cass, her tone amused. "She's Batgirl. The new Batgirl. We're ... friends."

Right then, before Jason could converse with her any further, Cass resolved to accelerate their transportation to a speed the Flash could possibly match. Jason could feel her hair flying in his direction and her capes covering most of his upper body because of the wind. At this rate, he had to grab onto her hips so that he would not fall. He wondered aloud why she had gathered speed, but she didn't answer. She became tenser, he noted. Something was wrong.

"Jason." Her voice was urgent.

Jason chose to keep quiet. He could not bear to hear it. He knew what would come next.

"Jason," Cass tried again. "We're ... losing him."

He watched the road and when it split into two, ordered her to turn right. She obliged. He continued to give her directions; left, right, right again, straight through. Don't stop, don't talk. Don't even think. Just drive. Look at the street and remember where to go. We're almost there. Cass followed his every command, not once questioning him. He found that comforting, but only barely. There was nothing that could make him in the least okay right now. He was going to fail, and fail miserably at that. All he could do now was to scream directions against the gusty wind to this stranger girl like his life depended on it.

"Stop."

They arrived with a halt, sending Jason's body forward. He could smell the jasmine in Cass' hair and the salty scent of sweat for a split second. They were somehow intoxicating, that aroma that were more body odor than artificial perfume. Jason forced himself to concentrate on that so that he would at least had something real to hold on to for what was to come. Letting out a long sigh, he descended to the ground.

In front of them stood a small building made of decaying wood and held together by mostly newer woods that were applied carelessly with messy nails. The windows did not have any glasses. There was no door, just a rectangular hole for which people were supposed to enter and exit. If it rained, the inhabitants would need to provide for a lot of buckets, as the roof had lost more than half of its' tiles and the remaining ones were cracked and broken. But as if to remedy the house of its' condition, beside it stood a gorgeous apple tree, which thick leaves shadowed the creeky old home quite cozily. There was even a swing built on one of the branches. A cat slept lazily on the ground next to it, to add to the homey effect.

Jason took Luke gently from Cass' arms, and cradled him carefully. He strode off into the house in a steady fashion until he reached a battered single bed in the corner (the house had only one room, serving as a bedroom, a dining room, and a playroom, by the looks of the discarded toys and dinner table in it). Setting down the boy's body meticulously, Jason found himself praying to no God in particular; just to the general force that moved the universe around. He prayed for this poor boy to have a second chance. After all, he was given that, and what did he do with it? Nothing but murder an innocent kid by his irresponsible lack of care.

"Red Hood ..." Luke whimpered, but was still unable to open his eyes. Jason was sure he cracked a rib or two, and the internal bleeding was too much. He saw those bastards used something other than their hands to take the life out of him, perhaps a club or a bat. He neither knew nor cared.

"I'm here," Jason said firmly.

"Is Daisy all right?'

"Yes."

"Good. Take care of her, will you?"

"Of course."

"And Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I missed Friday night's pizza."

Luke relaxed and let out his last breath.

Then Jason noticed Cass was holding his hand because it was trembling too much.

AN: Whew! I'm sorry this took so painfully long, but my school keeps me busy by assigning homeworks and projects and the likes. Anyways. YEAH MORE INTERACTION! It really stumped me how on earth could I make their first attraction to each other to be believable, and I actually had to sit around on my bed for a while to figure it out. It's still subtle in this chapter, but that's where I'm going with it in this story. Slow and steady.

Next chapter is still kind of angsty, but more towards the direction of yes-they-actually-do-care-about-each-other. Tell me what you think about this chapter in the reviews then. Enjoy!