Chapter 2
Jason stood with one foot on the rooftop ledge, looking down at the three men with AK-47’s patrolling a specific container trailer at the harbor. He had his face mask on, covering his nose and mouth below the domino mask. The red hood of his sweatshirt covered the rest of his head.
“Tell me again why you’re not wearing the helmet anymore?” Clint spoke in his ear. Jason lifted his eyes to see a flash of purple and black running across a wall of stacked containers.
“After Bizarro and Artemis disappeared… I just kept thinking about them anytime I looked at it. Then I thought about Starfire and Roy… I needed the change.”
“Well, it certainly ups the fear factor.” Clint jumped across a break in the wall. Jason knew he was looking for the best vantage point for his aim, but part of him wished Clint was at his side. He felt alone without someone right next to him, questioning his plans or cracking jokes.
The lone wolf of the family missed having a team. Jason recognized the irony and ignored it.
“I mean, you’ve got the evil murder doctor vibe now,” Clint continued to joke.
Jason laughed softly so the thugs wouldn’t hear him. “Says the man wearing a purple ski mask with an H on his forehead.”
“There were other places I wanted to put the H, but Coulson wouldn’t allow it.”
They were interrupted by the sound of a diesel engine. “The tractor-trailer has arrived,” Clint spoke. Jason couldn’t see his friend anymore and assumed that Clint had found his perch.
“Copy that.” Jason pulled one of his guns out, checking the clip. He had live ammo in it. Since he wasn’t in Gotham, he didn’t have to follow the Bat rules. “Should I go live or rubber tonight?” he asked Clint. It was the first time he had gone into a fight with the secret spy agent, so he wasn’t sure what Clint’s ethics were.
“They’re packing guns, Jason. If they threaten your life, I’m taking them down.”
Jason smirked. “Live ammo it is.”
The tractor-trailer pulled up beside the waiting container. Behind it was a black limousine. More thugs exited the car, and the driver stepped out to open one of the limo’s back doors. A white man came out, straightening his suit jacket. Jason didn’t recognize him, but he also wasn’t familiar with the players in Blüdhaven like he was with in Gotham.
“I don’t recognize this guy,” Jason relayed to Clint.
“Like I know who it is. I’m just following your lead, Red.”
“Hood,” Jason corrected. “There’s too many Reds in the field.”
“Don’t you guys know any other color?” Clint asked.
“I know, right? I’ve asked about that before, but the others ignored me.”
“Think any of the kids are on the comms?”
Jason sighed, but someone checking the Batcave’s computer files would take a lot of the guesswork out of this situation. “I’ll check.” Jason reached up onto his mask and turned on the communicator set to an encrypted frequency all the Bats used. “Hood here, needing a facial rec. Anyone online?”
They waited, watching as the businessman ordered the thugs about. One was starting the long climb up into the crane.
“Can’t you do your own research, Todd?” Damian’s voice came as a reply, and Jason groaned. Of all his siblings…
“I’m standing on the roof of a warehouse in the shipyard. There isn’t a batcomputer readily available,” Jason replied.
“—TT— obviously you need better gear.”
“Robin, will you just run the scan for him,” Clint intervened as a voice of reason. “We’re covering the Haven tonight and got a new player on the field.”
“Barton.” There was no inflection on Damian’s voice as he said the agent’s name. Jason knew that meant Damian hadn’t formed an opinion yet on Clint, which was probably a good thing. “You’re supposed to be watching over Grayson.”
“He’s working right now, and his cab stinks.”
“Still if you needed a partner on patrol…”
Jason rolled his eyes. “The scan, brat.”
Damian growled, but a moment later Jason’s view through his domino mask went from normal to a red color with yellow crosshairs. Jason focused his sights on the businessman and waited.
“Alawishus Forman.”
Clint snorted. “Wow, his parents hated him from the start.”
Jason heard a soft snicker from Damian over the line—a rare sound that only Dick was able to elicit from the demon spawn. “He’s got a history of drug and weapons dealing in Sterling City,” Damian continued. “No sign of him doing business on this coast.”
“Until now.” Jason swept his vision over the thugs next, and Damian relayed the information from the computer on each one. As they identified the last one on the ground, the crane’s motor roared to life.
“Whatever we’re doing, Hood, we need to act. As it is, I’m on shaky ground.”
Jason lifted his head, looking at the crane. “What do you mean… please tell me you’re not on the crane.”
“Oh, I’m totally on the crane.” The speck of purple against the indigo sky wavered as the crane rotated its arm. “I’ve got a shot at the ground crew. Just need your orders.”
“Right.” Jason focused back on the Forman and his crew. He counted, then realized that four men were missing. “We’ve got lost lambs.”
“Yeah, I—get down!” Clint’s order sent Jason flat on his stomach immediately. A second later, the thwip of an arrow hitting flesh came from behind him. Jason turned his head to see a man go down, an arrow in his throat. A second arrow struck another man right in his eye socket.
A spotlight lit up the crates Jason was on, and more thugs turned their guns on him. He grinned beneath the mask as he clicked off the guns’ safeties. “Showtime.”
Clint watched Jason interrogate Forman while hiding in the shadows. Coulson wouldn’t approve of this mission, but the urge to hurt something had been too great. When he felt this way, he would either stand at a target for hours, shooting until his fingers ran red with blood, or he was on a case and took it out on his target.
He wasn’t shocked that Jason felt the same anger at losing Alfred; the same helplessness in being able to do something about it. When Jason asked for Clint to be his backup on patrol in Blüdhaven, Clint had his gear in hand before Jason finished the sentence.
Now, Clint still felt that ball of energy in him screaming to be released. Bobbi used to help him in these moments, dragging him to bed and “distracting” him until he was depleted. But his ex-wife was off on another mission and, well, he hadn’t even thought about pursuing a relationship while he was in the Haven. It’d be just a fling at best and leave behind broken hearts at worst.
Flings never went well for him. Guy or gal, it always ended with someone in tears. Sometimes, it was him. He craved affection more than actual sex, and right now he just wanted to curl up in someone’s arms until the pain disappeared… like how Jason had held him earlier.
Clint shook his head. No. He wasn’t going to let his mind go there. He couldn’t.
“I got what I needed from him,” Jason spoke as he moved to Clint’s side. “I can get the information leaked out to those Nightwings and let them feel useful.”
“How generous.” Clint took a deep breath, forcing a smile on his face. “I think I should head back. Ric’ll be home soon and I have to figure out how to break this to him.”
“Like he’d even remember Alfred,” Jason huffed.
“That’s not fair and you know it.” Clint pushed away from the crates he leaned against and started walking back to where their motorcycles were.
Jason jogged to catch up. “What I meant was that he won’t understand why he should care.”
“And that isn’t his fault. But you really think that keeping him in the dark is the best choice?”
“Of course. Why put our family drama on him?”
Clint shifted, pushing Jason up against the crates. “He’s still part of your family, whether he believes it or not. When he gets his memories back, do you think he’ll appreciate not having been given a chance to say goodbye? I know him—he’s already going to wish he had been there and will feel guilty. But to keep him from a family memorial… it’ll make him refuse to come back even when he remembers.”
“I’ve been kept from a lot of the family events. You get over it.” Jason glared down at Clint but didn’t try to free himself from the tight grip.
“Oh really? How did that whole homecoming go again?”
Jason pushed Clint back. “I was suffering from pit madness!”
“And he’s suffering from amnesia! Tell me you don’t feel an ounce of guilt from what you’ve done that made you believe you’re the black sheep in the Batfamily?”
Silence hung in the air between them. Jason’s hands curled into fists, and Clint shifted his weight to be able to defend himself. He could feel the adrenaline starting to pump and decided that he wanted to fight. He needed to fight. “Or does admitting guilt also means admitting everything you did wasn’t pit madness but your own idiocy?”
The snarl preceded the first punch, letting Clint duck under it easily. He wasn’t expecting Jason to charge and grab him around the waist. He flew back, landing a few inches from the motorcycles. Jason was on top of him, and there was a sickish green glow in his eyes as he brought his fist down at Clint’s temple.
Clint moved, bringing his legs up to wrap around Jason’s shoulders and neck before pulling him down. He sprang away, getting back to his feet as Jason rose to one knee. “What about you, huh?” Jason asked, pushing his hood down. “We barely know anything about you, but you act like you spent years here. I think you’re just putting your own guilt at being away on me. I at least came back. I bet you abandoned Alfred just like you abandoned Dick.”
It was Clint’s turn to charge. The guttural roar tore from his throat as he slammed his shoulder into Jason’s chest. Jason barely moved. For all Clint’s momentum, there was at least a fifty-pound difference between the two men, which is what Clint counted on. He performed one of Bobbi’s moves: grabbing onto Jason’s arm and swinging his body around Jason’s back. His legs wrapped around Jason’s neck, and with the momentum of his upper body pushing off to swing, he pulled down with his legs.
Unbalanced, Jason fell onto his back. Clint’s heel kicked the red mask away from the younger man’s face. Clint straddled Jason, his knees on Jason’s arms, hands on either side of Jason’s head. He panted, staring down at the seething vigilante.
“Get off of me you—”
Jason’s words were cut off as Clint leaned in and kissed him hard on the lips.
Clint’s fingers dug into the ground as all his frustration funneled into the kiss. He closed his eyes, his anger shifting to his desperate desire for affection. Part of it was instinct—Bobbi and his sparring matches usually ended up in this position, the one on top swapping often—and part of it…
He had tried to deny the connection he felt with Jason. Their backstories, the understanding of trauma, how in sync they fought, and even their lame jokes had slowly brought Clint closer to the Red Hood than the bond between Clint and Ric Grayson.
There was one problem: Jason was his adoptive brother. He might not know it, but Clint did and because of that, he needed to be responsible for his actions at this moment.
Clint pushed himself away, hopping up on his feet and backing away and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Sorry. I shouldn’t… I need to go.”
“Clint, what…?” Jason remained on his back, confusion painting his face.
At least he wasn’t angry anymore. Mission accomplished?
“I’ll see you at the memorial,” Clint said in a rush as he grabbed his equipment and slung it on his back. He was on his motorcycle and driving away before Jason could even get to his feet.