A/N: HIIII! I would love to thank everyone who has found this story and FOLLOWED and stuff. and reviewed! You all have made me want to update again (i've been busy with life... well, mostly homework, but life too.)
So. I hope you like this chapter.
Drew stomped down the street, rage nearly blinding her as she located someone familiar, someone she remembered from a week ago, and locked onto that person. As she crossed the street carelessly, though, she saw a can of gasoline just sitting in an abandoned pickup truck in an alley and wicked thoughts began their dance inside her head. Dropping the bat in the middle of the mostly empty street and forgetting the woman who had threatened her, and luckily had not seen her, she went over to the truck and picked it up, and when she found a matchbook, her rage skyrocketed.
Heading off with these two things as snow fell around her, she felt like she was cut off from reality, like she was somehow outside it and that she had lost connection with it. It was due to the shock of finding out her best friend was alive, she knew, and therefore, she needed someway to... well, whatever she could do to get the rage out of her system instead of curling up on her bed and crying about it all night.
Seeing an old, abandoned building that didn't look very appealing, and upon seeing the CONDEMNED sign she figured no one would miss it. She began dumping the gasoline all over the front of it that showed in the dark alley way, until the can was empty. Flinging into one of the windows, hearing glass shattering, she struck up a match before she could second guess what she was doing or worry about the consequences and flicked it towards the building.
Immediately, the building caught on fire. It spread so fast she knew she had to get out of there, fast. She took off in the direction opposite in which she came from, and disappeared from the area long before she could hear sirens in the distance.
By time time her head cleared, she was lost once again, cold, and lonely. And she desperately wanted to cry, more than she really cared to admit. Slowly, she began to recognize where she was as she trudged on.
And she'd managed to land herself in the rich part of Gotham.
Having an idea, she began running again, despite her body's protests and found the gates to the unfinished mansion she'd seen time first time she'd seen the Red Hood that night. Jumping the fence easily, she ran across the snow-covered lawn and leapt over a pile of sheets of plastic, dodging tarps flapping about in the freezing wind. The house was huge, piles of supplies were scattered about as she turned corners, went up stairs and down hallways.
When Drew finally found herself again, she was in a large room with glassless windows and snow filtered in through the cracks in the unfinished house. She went over to a far corner, out of the way of the snow and wind and most of the cold. Leaning into the corner and sliding down onto the hardwood floor, pulling her knees to her chest.
Drew idly wondered if what she had done was the wisest choice, but then she felt something wet on her cheek. Shocked, she put a ban to her cheek and gasped when she found that she had been crying long before she had found this huge, empty room. The sounds of the city seemed distant on this huge house, it reminded her of the time when she had lived with the Wayne's.
And with this final thought, she broke down and cried. No more rage filled her system: only sorrow and shock and disbelief choked her as she sobbed loudly in the empty house. Her cries, though, could be heard, even though she had been certain no one had seen her since she had gone to Arkham.
The thoughts of Jason being alive tormented her as she rocked herself back and forth, pressing her face into her legs, trying to muffle her sobs.
After the longest of times, she stood shakily, sniffing, wiping her eyes hurriedly to erase any signs of crying. No one needed to know that she had spent a good amount of time crying over something that she could do nothing about. Who needed to know, anyways?
Drew slowly went to the open space that would eventually be a huge window and peered around the flapping tarp and was greeted by a sharp blast of cold air.
"I don't understand!" She wailed, waving her bandaged hands around in frustration. Slamming her hands into the wall. She leaned out the window, her black hair rustled by the wind.
Out of nowhere someone grabbed the necklace she'd forgotten she had put on and yanked her backwards, back into the house and against another body. An arm wrapped itself around her waist quickly as a gloved hand clamped over her mouth as a scream of pure, sorrow-filled scream escaped her lips.
As soon as she was done screaming and thrashing about, she calmed down, but her heart was out of the control, as if it was trying to tear itself out of her chest in a wild emotional frenzy.
She knew who was keeping her from running out of the house and doing something that would get her into trouble. She'd already set something on fire: what else could she possibly do that was worse than that?
"Jason!" She said into the gloved hand. "Let me go!"
"You know," he murmured, his hand slowly leaving her mouth and examining the necklace he'd given her. "I can't believe you bothered keeping the damn thing."
"It really is you!" She shouted, spinning around and facing the Red Hood.
"Take that off," she hissed, pointing at his helmet.
"Or what?" He leaned forward, poking her hard with his finger, and she stumbled back in response. "You gonna set something else on fire?"
"God dammit, Jason Peter Todd, you will take that mask off or there will be hell to pay before this night is over!"
He sighed. "You know you've been here for two hours, right?"
"I... How long have you been here?" she asked him, glaring. She was losing her calm appearance, if one could even call it that. She wanted to cry again, this was too much for her to take in.
"How long have you known? And why aren't you having a breakdown?" He crossed his arms over his chest, giving her no sign that he would take off his helmet, which kept her from believing this whole thing completely. But she needed to see his face, she needed to confirm the Joker's words.
When all he received was silence, he glared at her. She felt it, and a blank look crossed her face before she looked down at her feet, realizing something.
A promise never broken.
She looked and was about to let out a shriek as an unfamiliar yet familiar man covered her mouth.
Brilliant green eyes.
A trademark, exhausted smirk.
Drew, in shock, felt her legs give out and of course this man was familiar to her. This was the boy that had died long ago, that had left her alone in the world.
But here was.
The thunk of his helmet was distant in her mind as she stared, gaping, into his eyes.
"He was right," she whispered, steadying herself as he let go of her. "Jason..."
The smirk vanished as shock overwhelmed her again. "Who told you?" a dark look crossed his features.
"You never broke it," she said, her eyes shimmering. "You've kept it all this time."
Jason sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't going to get anywhere with her while she was in this state.
"Let's get you back to your place," he said, putting on his helmet, taking her arm gently. After burning down a condemned building, digging up a grave, disappearing for an hour, and learning that her best friend had been Robin, and was alive, she was a mess. But the possibility of her getting angry or running off once she regained her normal state of mind was huge.
Jason tugged her towards the stairs, shaking his head. "You know, you haven't cried in a long time," he told her.
"You've changed," she said absently as he led her down the stairs slowly.
"It's been five years," he chuckled.
"You're older," she stumbled forward, and he grabbed her arm to steady her.
He only rolled his eyes as they exited the mansion.
Little did he know that Drew was trying to decide whether or not that this whole situation was a good thing or a bad thing, and if having Jason Todd—the Red Hood—alive was really something to be happy about.
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