Well I am not occupied with anything, have ideas in my head for a lonely Sunday and wanted to make a sequel one shot to my earlier JasonxOC plot, 'Her Soldier'; this time, however, it is my OC's POV (well, the bold writing) and describes a little her relationship with said ex-Robin through her own experiences at his side...I hope this is good...Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING BUT THE PLOT OF THE ONE SHOT AND ANY OCS USED AND/ OR MENTIONED...Sorry if this sucked, was lame, too short, or all the above...Sorry if there were any grammar mistakes made during the writing, creation, and polishing of this one shot...


I've been beaten, knocked out, and close to being killed all my life.

My home was Hell on earth; the streets were my safe house; the world was disgusted with and pitied me all at the same time.

Bloody cuts, deep bruises, even burn marks? I'm not new to them, because everyone (excluding my dear baby brother) did either one, two, or all three.

And so it surprised me, when he didn't do any of those things at all...

Aster didn't dry her body off completely from the warm shower, pulling on her old jeans and letting her bare back be to her bedroom door as she held the towel to her front.

So safe, so secure, so...foreign.

It's been, what like two days? Two days, and no beating? No punch to the face, no slap or threat with a knife to her throat, no needle forced into her skin with one of her dad's "secret" sleeping drugs?

It was impossible, how she has managed to stay unscathed for so long; forty-eight hours was a long time, that she has learned to appreciate growing up. Time was precious, time was beautiful, and time was all she was certain of in this world.

"What the hell did he do to you...?"

She flinched and gasped, large glacier blue eyes turning to the door, towel still held to her torso; Red Hood stood there (how he got in, much less found her and Atticus, was a mystery to her) against the door frame, arms crossed over his fit chest. His mask was on so she couldn't read his true facial expression, but the white fabric over his eyes was stretched taut into dangerous slits.

"What the hell are you doing here! How did you find us, answer me!" She growled, her hiss loud but controled at the same time; Atticus was sleeping peacefully in the room across from hers, and it's been the first long, calm sleep he's had in a while. She wanted to scream (and then beat the intruder to a pulp and get him the hell out of here!) at the masked man and pull the guns she stole a few nights out ago on him, but her brother's rest and health mattered more.

Red Hood merely ignored her venomous outburst and crossed the room in short, swift strides, he forcing her around on the heels of her bare feet so that her back faced him again; she growled and wanted to hold back the angry, hurt tears (Kane's disgusting touch has not left her yet) forming in her eyes, when...firm, large spidery hands gently touched the wounds on her back.

They weren't doing any inappropriate caresses of the sort, though; they probed the wounds sure, but only to see if they were fresh (like, before Aster came up with the idea to get her and her brother away from their beast of a dad) or old (as in, several weeks or months past in time) and needed to be tended to.

Apparently they did, for he fumbled with the thick, heavy belt around his waist before he had rolls of bandages and rubbing alcohol in his bare hands; he undid a roll and poured reasonable amounts of the strong, bitter-smelling liquid onto them but paused, looking up to meet Aster's surprised, wet eyes.

"You need patching up, so hold your tongue with the smartass comments and tell me if the sting gets too much to handle." He said simply, not giving her any space for objection before he applied the bandages to her back.

The thick, crisscrossing scars against her pale, soft skin made Red Hood glower deep inside; some cuts (and bruises, and welts, and burns) were long, ugly and badly tended to, for they held large dozes of bodily goo and were bright red with white lines of bacteria attacking the exposed, twitching muscle below.

Aster hissed a little at the way the alcohol burned but sighed soon afterwards when she felt the germs, the illness inside her leave and leave her finally clean, feeling like a huge weight has at last been lifted off her chest. Red Hood cut a few strips of medical tape with his dagger and pressed them down (firmly but carefully, so not to irritate her wounds more than necessary) to secure the bandages in place, the process taking only twenty minutes but to her, it was like three seconds.

Aster was quick to tie the towel better around her upper body but she looked back at the leather-clad man over her shoulder, tears gone but eyes full of questions.

"Hey if you die, who will take care of your brother?"

Everything he said made sense somehow, to me.

Maybe because we've been through a lot of damn sick events in our lives; different things yes, but all bring pain no matter how apart on the line they were.

Still, in his own way...he cured my emotional scars one by one.

"Stop looking at those damn pictures, Aster." Jason warned coldly, said girl looking at him oddly as she broke free from her intense train of thought; she had taken a trip down Memory Lane through her old digital camera; she had used this camera to record every punch, jab, heck even the split lip she dealt with at age nine, she received as a little girl from her dad.

Atticus frowned at seeing the nostalgia haunting his big sister's eyes, he soon crawling onto her lap and snuggling close in a hug around her waist.

"Why, they're just memories. Like I'd let my dad beat the crap out of me anymore, I'm not that damn stupid, Jason; plus, me and Ace are on the run, hiding out here so what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is, that you're hurting yourself!"

"How so, what the hell!"

"You're asking yourself, 'Why did I let him do that to me?', I can see it in your eyes! You look at those pictures and hate yourself, because you think you could have done something to stop him when you couldn't!"

Aster growled and rose from the couch, Atticus sliding off her lap and onto the floor.

"I could have done something, you idiot! I knew what he was doing to me and mother and my brother was wrong, I could have done something!" At this Jason grabbed the other black-haired young adult's shoulders and stared deeply into her hard glacier eyes, his midnight green ones just as fierce and angry.

"You were NINE, Aster! You were a kid, it's not your fault you couldn't do anything! You need to stop blaming yourself, have you really been a failure? Look, look at Atticus! Look at him, now!" Aster bit her lip before turning to her brother, who was staring at them in concern.

He had two legs, two arms, everything was intact (thank God, since their dad would beat their mother up when she had been pregnant with the youngest child) and not one perfect hair was missing from his cute head; his hair was fair and a lovely midnight black, big blue eyes that shined with bright life despite the hell hole they were brought up in, pale skin that was like milk with a sweet, adorable smile that he inherited from mother. He was healthy and happy, safe and sound without a single scratch like Aster hid under clothes every day.

...How was she a failure, when her brother was unharmed and still as beautiful as he was the day he was born, when he opened his eyes and saw her for the first time?

At this the girl began to cry (she didn't even know tears were in her eyes) softly to herself, Jason's facial expression softening a little as he soon embraced her small, trembling frame into his.

"You're not a failure; get that fucking damn idea out of your head, now. There's nothing you could have done then, but you don't have to now. Everything will be okay, for both you and Ace, I promise..." Aster gripped at Jason's dark brown leather jacket as she cried into his chest, Atticus hugging her at the knees while humming a nice tune under his breath to calm her down and make her smile.

Never once has a strange, foreign place felt so...home.

Yes he was a killer; yes he has murdered for justice; yes he was a more darker avenger than Batman could ever be.

But that wasn't everything to him...there were times, when he was a broken person.

"Why is he still alive! Why not get rid of him, he's filled more graveyard than any psychopath in this God-damn city! Why not kill him, for Barbara and...me? Why let him live?" Jason asked, a rare expression on his face: eyes were light with confusion and immense sadness, not wet with tears but glossy while his lips were in a weak line of held back, waterless sobs.

Aster opened her eyes and uncrossed her legs, both sitting on his bed (well it was once hers, but she gave it up for the couch in the Living Room) in what had been a lingering silence between them; when he broke it with his muse, however, the room was everything but filled with quiet.

"It's hard to explain; Batman is not to kill, so murdering the Joker would go against his code."

"So not even for me he'd get revenge? I was his son, Aster...! H-He had a lot of chances to send that deranged piece of scum to Hell, and not once has he went that far! Did I...not mean much to him?" Jason's tone went from hostile to uncertain, she soon on her knees before him and cupping his face; green met blue.

"I can assure you that you meant, and still do, a lot to him, Jason; both of you are different, but...you have no idea how much you mean to me, to Atticus too. Even though the most insane, criminal mastermind had us cross paths after taking your precious life away five years ago, I'm happy you are here once again. I need you, Jason; more than you can ever imagine..."

His lips were on hers in only seconds, their bodies intertwining on the bed as he worked his mouth to hers; his lips were firm but not driven by lust, his touches light yet curious. Aster stifled a whimper as she worked her hands through his soft, nicely brushed black hair, feeling a bit torn.

Maybe he was doing this to get some stress released, maybe all was a ploy to play with her feelings and humiliate her to a level of shame she has never experienced.

But his scent was intoxicating, his mouth warm and inviting, his body toned and hard as he discarded his clothes to the floor.

She was drowning in his essence, in his soul and she didn't give much of a damn.

A broken person who needed love in his life, a positive in the negative shell surrounding his cold, fragile heart.

And I was willing to give him that positive, to give him a love that he may not think or see that he needs, but a love that can help that fragile heart lose its icy taste.

"You don't have to worry about it, I can take care of another kid; I've done so with Atticus for so long, I have everything do like second nature." Aster said, curled up on the apartment roof with her head to her knees, arms wrapped securely, protectively around her flat stomach.

Red Hood (no, he was still Jason even with that mask on) stared at her hunched form; was she playing, pulling a cruel prank on him to bend him to her will or torture him for something she saw as offensive to her thoughts, to her ideals? Was she that...no, could she be that evil?

Or...was there a small child, a child that had his blood, his genes and half of his soul, growing within her?

"I'll go now; I need to get Atticus ready for a head out, we'll need to find another place t-"

"Who said I'd give up my child, Aster?" He asked, his voice working for the first time since this conversation started; the young woman's back went prostrate but she didn't look at him.

"I did; what happened was a...mistake. You have no need for me, nor Atticus and the child. I will do this on my own."

"And if I refuse?"

"W-Why would you? You're Red Hood, you have other obligations...!" She shot back, biting her lower lip; his arms were around her body in seconds, his hands (no gloves in sight) resting over hers over her stomach.

"Because what happened between us wasn't a mistake; it's what I've wanted for a long time, and if you think I'm letting you walk away now, you better get a freaking reality check."

"Y-You don't love me...!"

"Who said I didn't?" Aster's blue eyes flew open at this, Jason's face pressing into the nape of her neck. Tears flooded her eyes, streamed down her cheeks and colored her face a faint pink, yet the green-eyed man smiled below his mask and twisted their fingers together.

"Just so you know though, I want a boy. Girls are okay, but sometimes way too dramatic." She elbowed him for the comment, though he could see a ghost of a smile on her lips too.

He doesn't let me fall...

Jason stroked Aster's hair lightly with one hand, said woman's eyes closed peacefully as she slept, both hands cradling her curved stomach; three months go by fast, don't they?

Aster's body tenses as a cold, painful childhood memories penetrates her sweet dreams, sweat starting to form along her slender brows as she bites her lower lip and fights back forming tears under her eyelids.

Jason slowly pulls her into his arms and presses a kiss to her forehead, cupping her cheek and holding her head to his chest; a even-tuned, thumping heart bounced against the drum of her left ear, the sharp pinch between her eyes now smoothing over as his presence reached her subconsciousness, hands gripping more tightly at his leather jacket.

He smirked fondly but said nothing, only concentrating on soothing the small of her back with light, faint touches.

And that's why, what happened to me did not kill me; what happened, only made me stronger...

"Hush, it's okay. It's okay Wynter, Mommy's here. And so is Daddy." Aster said with a warm smile at the bundle in her arms, Atticus staring at the smaller child in awe while Jason watched on with a rare, soft smile.

The child was small and had Aster's pale skin, hair black and rich as a moonless night but his eyes, his eyes were deep and a sharp green: unique hues of blue and drops of green, emerald and glacier, ocean and forest, to create a lovely, thunder teal.

They were lovely eyes, the lovely eyes of Wynter Nicolas Todd.