Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

- 2 YEARS AFTER PAROLE –

It is already too late, it got dark more quickly than expected. It must be past 9:40 at night in Gotham City calculated Willis in his mind, it's not that he cared about the hour. 

His apartment was located in the Bowery district. Despite the age of the building and the renovations, it has not changed much in its infrastructure.

In his neighborhood there are streetlights that illuminate certain areas, loose cables that lack maintenance. Something the new mayor should have done six months ago. What could be expected? That’s life in Gotham.

His characteristic urban style still prevailed, with graffiti in the alleys and cracks on the sidewalks that were preserved intact. Some were even there before he was born. Honestly, everything was the same after he left prison. He could even recognize, among so many cracks, a family member, it was the same crack that had been tripped over when was eight years old. That trip caused a deep injury to his knee.

Leonard, his older half-brother, couldn’t stop laughing at him as he sobbed from the heat of his wound.

We return home as a group, consisting of his mother, father and his other two older brothers. Their mother ended up scolding Leonard while Willis watched them, I sensed satiation at seeing his scolded older brother. huge satisfaction for that meeting.

He was surprised to be able to recognize that crack.

His apartment is part of the rehabilitation program for ex-offenders, a program he participates in. He was informed about the apartment after finishing his sentence at Blackgate.

He often recalls his past when he worked for Harvey Dent. Better known today as the Two-Face for some time now. For some reason, he liked the way Willis used to work.It was too strange a sensation, even though it could easily have taken his life on several occasions.  

Memories of his past often resurfaced, of those days working for Harvey Dent—or for Two-Face, as some called him. For some reason, the man liked the way Willis worked. It was a strange sensation, even though it could have easily cost him his life on several occasions. Sometimes, the thought crossed Willis's mind that Dent hadn't really wanted him to die.

Interacting with Two-Face always ended in discomfort, such as when he would whisper a confidential plan directly into his ear. 

He couldn't remember exactly what he had done to catch Two-Face's attention.

Or some kind of favoritism among so many of his men.

There were other guys in the same position as him, they had almost the same level of madness, or were even worse than Two-Face himself. He still remembered some of their first and last names.

Willis was one of the few who were sane amidst so many lunatics.

Whenever the two of them met in private, he would talk to him about his plans and operations. But the only rule he gave him was that he must not tell anyone. 

Only he could know it.

Nobody else.

That was the rule.

Could still remember those confidential things he told him, something that the other members were not aware of or did not know about those private meetings. Many stayed behind just to watch him walk out of those meetings.

He makes a great effort to forget that time of his.  

Once, his former counselor wanted to ask him about it in the first therapy sessions. But he did not want to talk about his past at that time, and they continued talking about other issues.

Only he endured it because the Two-Face paid in cash to his men, with big wads of money. And if one go reached to rise of post he received much more.

If they could comply with the order, of course.

He is returning to his apartment after completing his hours at the job he got at a mechanic's workshop a few blocks from where he lives, which he can easily walk to.

When he was much younger, he and his mother used to scavenge in junkyards for tires or other car parts that were still intact, to sell to secondhand auto parts stores. He and his mother would save what they earned, secretly from his father. His mother was very good at saving money.

In his childhood, there were many occasions when he was forced to engage in different activities that he did not enjoy, sometimes being accompanied by his damned half-brothers, who were all older than him. His shitty old man discovered what he was doing in secret from everyone else, except his mother, something he was unaware of. He was asked to count and show what he was doing.

When his father saw how good that he was, having the necessary knowledge of the parts of the vehicles and at the same time to be able to disassemble it in parts.

Having only ten years old at that moment and being so good as an average adult, he became miraculously proud of him.

Of the few times he became happy for him, he had to be that of all forms.

The good thing is that his father never knew that he and his mother hid the money to spend on bills and other necessities needed around the house, as well as a few personal items. His mother let him buy any candy he wanted. Behind his brothers' backs so they wouldn't take it from him or ask how he had gotten it.

His father asked him to show him how he did it, according to him it was to promote family unity with his brothers, as if he believed him.

After several years of marriage, his parents began arguing more and more frequently, sometimes even shouting. Meanwhile, he often got into fights with his older half-brothers, the typical sibling squabbles, especially if you were the youngest. Most of the arguments at home were between his mother and father, over trivial matters or money, which is what he remembers most. He couldn't recall if there were any other problems he was aware of.

To no one's surprise, they ended up divorcing. He stayed with his mother, and his damn half-brothers stayed with their father. They moved out of Gotham.

He doesn't usually talk to them. He hasn't spoken to them since her mother's death.

Rarely spoke with them on the phone.

Or they used to call him on rare occasions, sometimes visiting him leaving him perplexed.

In the end, he disconnected from them of his own volition.

He preferred it that way.

Now the situation has changed. His job is to repair various types of vehicles. Apart from that, he only eats and sleeps. He occasionally has a beer.

Or a wine.

He really likes wine.

***

Willis Todd was climbing the stairs of his building. 

In his hands, he carried his heavy shopping bags, which would serve to sustain him. He also took the opportunity to buy cat food. He was running out of food for Kathy. It was the only store he went to in his entire neighborhood.

He sees the candies or sweets that Jason liked in that store; among them were Oreos. Sometimes he buys them, but he doesn't dare to eat them. He keeps them stored for months in his refrigerator.

Rarely does he dare to eat those cookies.

And if he does, he cries while eating it.

Swallows hard, remembering how her prince joyfully ate his Oreos with childlike delight, when he could have the chance to please his son.

Her son will soon turn eighteen.

Jason should be alive.

He shouldn't be dead

Sometimes she thinks a lot about when Sheila introduced her to Jason.

Her son was in a baby carrier, with dirty diapers that hadn't been changed in days, looking wrinkled and old. Willis could sense a very strong smell. It smelled really bad; he couldn't blame the baby for complaining about his discomfort.

That wasted and old baby carrier looked bigger than the baby itself. It shouldn't have been there, it seemed to be struggling against the loose straps and worn fabric. Its little legs barely peeked out and the skin was reddish. The tiny veins in its hands were barely visible. It wasn't as noisy as Willis I hoped it would be. His little hands were wrinkled and to be tiny, they closed and opened with clumsy movements, as if he didn't even know they were there or what to do with his hands. It seemed like he was silently protesting. He wasn't crying that much. He barely emitted small sleepy whimpers and his breathing was shallow. His eyes looked swollen and he could barely keep them open. He was trying to blink, but there wasn't much effort in it. Willis felt like he wanted to cry along with him.

Sheila offered him the baby carrier as if it weighed nothing.

"Take, this thing is yours" said Sheila, as if you hand over any object. Not taking the necessary time to check if the child was okay. As if it didn't matter to her in the slightest.

Willis saw it, felt a lump form in his throat, and swallowed it hard. Her son was barely bigger than his own hand, so helpless, so tiny. It seemed to fit in both of his hands perfectly.

The baby was born premature, at eight months.

The due date was supposed to be in September, not August.

That was what Sheila told him coldly, after handing him the baby carrier with the infant inside.

Unconsciously, he gripped the shopping bags with more strength.

Without any hurry. He continues climbing the stairs until reaching his floor.

Some coworkers tell him about the newest player in Gotham's underworld, who calls himself Red Hood. He wore a distinctive red helmet and carried several firearms. Challenging many times to Batman as well as to the other bats.

He used to resort to intimidation and violence, even the murder out necessary. So taking control of the crime of the city.

But what they told him is that there is a rumor about Red Hood.That in reality he was a teenager and that everything he did was out of a rebellious facet.

Willis laughs to himself.

Ohhhh... if only they knew it.

The sound of his own footsteps echoes in the empty hallway as he approaches his apartment door. With a tired sigh, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his key ring. The metallic clink breaks the silence after he selects the correct key to open the lock.

Upon hearing the familiar click of the door, the time comes to step inside.

As you enter, you can see beer cans scattered throughout most of the apartment. 

Willis was about to flip the lights on, but something stopped him. He saw Kathy, his blue-eyed Siamese cat, with her usual yellow collar around in her neck.

Generally, she would be waiting for him on her cat tower.

But today was not the case.

That window gave a striking view of the tall buildings of Gotham, but now...... that window was open.

Willis recalled closing it before he left.

The cat's blue eyes glowed in the darkness. She was lying on the kitchen table, with her front legs extended forward, her hind legs slightly bent back and her tail was barely moving.ofa.

Willis had a very clear idea of who Kathy was looking at, so he just sighs wearily, once again. He knows who is in his apartment at this moment and isn't surprised in the least. Unlike other people.

He doesn't feel like turning on the lights in his living room to see who was in his apartment.

The darkness of the apartment was not so dense, it was subtly illumi Her small head was elevated, looking curiously towards the window, and right in front of her was the leather snated by the street light poles through the window that they are still defective.

Nothing special defined his apartment, but it served its purpose. 

This apartment was included in the rehabilitation program.

The living room and kitchen shared the same space, separated only by a countertop. He didn't know why they were built that way. The kitchen had a small table and matching chairs. It had his old long leather sofa. It was accompanied by a single matching armchair. In the center of the furniture was an empty oval wooden table.

Against the wall was Kathy’s cat tower, becoming her personal little castle. Standing in a corner, away from the window.

It was one of the few objects that Willis himself had bought with the money earned from his work, out of his own taste.

In another corner of the room was a five-shelf bookcase with some books she read when she felt like reading something and others from her therapy sessions on psychology, child abuse, trauma, emotion management, emotional awareness, dysfunctional parenting... among others. Willis only bought it to organize her books and a few other things, which, honestly, weren't many.

He had also bought it with his own money.

The bathroom was in the center, connected by a short corridor that connected to two rooms. On the left side was his own room. Right-side room, he never used. Normally made to collect dust. In that room, he kept boxes, always said that one day he would tidy that room, but in the end, never did.

Many belongings of his son from when living in Wayne Manor were kept there and others given by some old neighbors. One of them was a friend of Catherine, that miraculously conserved them after that she died and Jason escaped.

So, in that room he has a small plastic container that holds Jason's baby teeth, hidden in a place where only he knows.

After all, it was an apartment that served its purpose.

And then... 

Another visit of him in this week.

Three weeks in a row now, or is it five?

Already had lost count.

Male figure larger than him was leaning on sofa backrest.

He froze like a statue upon seeing him arrive.

As if he were his damn father, who had caught him going out without permission and coming home back late in the early morning.

Looked like a teenager with that exaggerated and forced pose, trying to appear natural, as if attempting to hide some mischief or a broken object.

Or knowing him well, easily could be hiding a corpse. Hiding it behind the couch.

Could recognize that jacket, armor, and red helmet anywhere.

His stance was not threatening.

Who would say that Red Hood was someone dramatic.

Rested left arm on sofa, trying to appear relaxed. Furthermore, right arm seemed tense.

Willis just looks at it and says nothing.

Red Hood doesn’t say anything either.

His hand is still resting on his side, pressing hard on something that clearly isn’t right. His breathing is heard agitated through the modulator.

The two look at each other in silence.

Kathy still at the table, she was watching the whole show in the front row. She kept turning her head. At least someone is entertained

Willis looks at Red Hood, about two more minutes with his eyes narrowed. As if he could get anything out of this absurd scene.

After so many visits, no longer feels threatened by Red Hood.

Lets out a deep sigh… with eyes closed.

Looks him in the face again

"Seriously," asks Willis without any emotion. 

Proceed to close the door shut and puts the keys in a pocket of his jacket.

Dropping shopping bags on the floor listening to the noise of cans of tuna, instant noodles, yogurt, canned peaches, packed meat, fruit juice, cereal, milk, cat food and other supplies.

He forgot to buy the eggs.

Shit.

Hood saw the shopping bags fall, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world and he looks back at him. It still remains in its dramatic position.

Hood takes a long time to respond, as if he’s thinking about what to say.

“I was taking a walk in this area,” Red Hood argued with a tired voice transmitted through the modulator. Willis thinks he doesn't seem to have slept for several days. “And well then ... I thought maybe I could stop by and say hello and spend some time with you.”

Willis raised an eyebrow with doubt. He said nothing, just stared at him.

Red Riding Hood looked at him, hoping would believe his excuse.

And there it was.

I catch him

Blood.

Just below the jacket sleeve, that's why his right arm was tense.

The black glove covered his fingers, but on his forearm there was a liquid dark line that did not appear to be part of his uniform.

The blood seemed to be spreading.

Willis squinted further to see better.

I could easily reach the doll that was covered by the black glove, it seems to be expanding beneath her suit.

The blood wasn’t dripping yet or I really expected it, but it soaked enough to subtly darken his suit.

I hoped that his blood wouldn't spill on the apartment floor.

Willis clenched his jaw, breathing several times with his eyes closed.

That guy is leaning against the back of his couch, ignoring that wound of his as if it doesn’t exist. He is not just injured, he is bleeding out inside. If he keeps trying to stand up with his ridiculous stances, he is going to faint in no time.

Willis is not an expert on wounds, but that seems to be from a knife cut.

I hope...... 

About two minutes passed without either of them saying a single word.

Since Red Hood wasn't saying anything, he decided to take the initiative this time once and for all.

“And that wound also wanted to come by and say hello?,”says Willis with sarcasm.

Red Hood did not respond.

Subtly lower your head.

Was he embarrassed?

I try to hide his wound, hiding it behind his back.

Now Willis knows why people think he’s a teenager.

Seriously was about to scold Hood as if he were his own father.

Why is this happening to him?

“Aha, very well,” says Willis, letting out a growl of annoyance, rubbing his face with his hand.

“You are collecting scars from different bullies on your own body,” Willis murmured, more irritated than usual. “What the hell happened to you this time, Hood”. He crossed his arms while looking at him.

He felt I was scolding him.

Red Hood did not respond immediately.

As if thinking how to respond to him.

“I needed a discreet place away from people or the recent thugs,” Hood replied, his voice raspy and accompanied by a slight shrug, “And you don’t seem like the type of person who usually calls the police....... Mr. Todd”. He explained everything with a bit of discomfort.

That 'Mr. Todd' sounded very forced.

He shakes his head and points to himself. “You're literally talking to an ex-prisoner, boy,” Willis said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

It was not the first time I had to clean blood in his apartment.

Well, not from someone else.

Red Hood points at him with his good hand, as if saying the answer he wanted.

“That’s the reason why I came here,” admits Hood, With a certain pain in his voice.

Willis spoke again, more quietly this time. “Not that I care, but..... i don't like them bleeding out on my couch” he says it being careful with his words to avoid sounding rude. Well, too much, why deceive oneself after all.

Red Hood let out a genuine faint laugh. That it was lost due to the traffic outside.

“The operation went wrong. I didn't know that one of those guys was a former butcher and that he knew how to handle the knives used to cut meat. That's all I'm going to say,” Hood argument.

Willis watched him out of the corner of his eye. “And... you didn't have, I don't know...? another place to drop by pure chance?” He asks carefully, more than he would have liked despite his tiredness.

Hood is slow to respond and said “no,” sounding discouraged. "I....... not he had other place in where to go this night." He said it as if admitting something personal.

Fuck.

That wasn't the answer I was expecting, Willis.

Part of him doesn't want to worry about Red Hodd, but seeing the wound looks like they pierced his skin like a piece of beefsteak.......

Willis bit his lips a little.

He didn't know how to feel about that confession.

And he came willingly to his apartment with his butcher knife wound

Once he cleaned his kitchen without him asking for it, he left it clean.

On another occasion, Hood rescued Kathy when she had accidentally escaped through the window. Some dogs from a gang were about to grab her by the neck and he rescued her just in time. He brought her back safe and sound, although a somewhat scared Kathy. That's why he keeps the cat tower away from the window, so that no other accident like that occurs.

A few nights ago, he had taken too much after a bad day. He got drunk when he visited a seedy tavern and is not sure if it was drunkenness, but he thought he saw a familiar red helmet. He felt that he was being carried and woke up in his apartment with some painkillers, which was ibuprofen. Accompanying it with a ginger tea.

He knows it wasn’t him, because he didn’t have ginger tea. Much less tea.

Does not usually buy tea, he prefers coffee. Above all, a café latte. If given the opportunity, prepares it personally; otherwise, goes to a coffee shop. Type of coffee always preferred.

And so many similar situations happened in these weeks.

He looks at Red Hood again and if the theory that he is a teenager is correct, he would easily put having the age of his son.

If he were alive.

Maybe Jason would have liked Red Hood.

Willis may have been a former criminal.

But he is not a bastard who would leave Red Hood injured to his fate.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He'd made his decision.

“If you're going to faint, do it on the couch”, Willis says as he walks to his bathroom, he's sure there was his first aid kit somewhere in the bathroom.

Upon stopping for a moment, turns around and says to him.“ I'm going to heal that wound of yours, you understand boy.” Willis warned, seriously.

What kind of situation had gotten into?

“Sit down, let's do it quickly” Willis ordered, pointing to the couch for Hood to sit on. He doesn't care where Hood wants to sit, let him decide.

He heads towards his bathroom at once.

Reed Hood tilted his head, although the helmet hid his face it seems somewhat amused by his response.

“Just like that? It's very generous of you”. Hood responded.

Ah, so making fun of him seems funny, thank you very much Hood, good to know that.

Ignores Hood's comment.

Already close to bathroom anyway.

“As if I were some kind of psychopathic monster”. Bitterly says Willis behind Hodd's back.

Once inside, she slammed the bathroom door shut.

“¡¡¡AND CLOSE THE DAMN WINDOW, I DON'T WANT THE CAT TO RUN AWAY AGAIN!!! ” Willi shouts already inside the bathroom. Looking for the first aid kit quickly.

***

Red Hood laughed a little at his action.

He looks at the apartment for a while, still hesitating how to get around. With very slow steps he sits on the couch, letting out a sigh he was holding back.

Feels watched.

Lowers head and sees Kathy watching from the floor, didn't realize she had gotten off the table. She looked at him with her blue feline eyes, she wasn't meowing. With his yellow necklace on his neck, with its fish-shaped plaque.

“Hello, small”, Red Hood murmured, lowering his tone a little to speak fondly to Kathy. Reached out fingers to stroke black nose.

Kathy tilted her head, blinks calmly, and follows him with her gaze. She didn't run away, sits there arching her back down, wagging her tail curiously, letting him caress her. She didn't complain about the caresses, she enjoyed them.

Red Hood chuckled a little and murmured to himself, “At least you don't seem to hate me, huh?”, saying it more to himself than to the cat, while he continued to gently stroke Cathy.

***

Willis leaves the bathroom with the medicine cabinet already in hand, but stands by the door for a while just to watch the scene unfold in silence. As if he didn't want to interrupt the calm atmosphere that arose between Hood and Kathy.

Sometimes he doesn't know why, but sometimes he feels strange when he's close to Red Hood. Not in the bad way he thought at first. But in a familiar feeling that he can't even explain.

He continued watching Red Hood for a while longer, because he felt comfortable with her cat. He was surprised that Kathy didn't scratch her or anything like that.

He can’t help worrying sometimes for Red Hood when he sees him in the newspaper and see what he did the night before, giving his life to the danger of Gotham itself, despite how young he is supposedly.

Or the things he says to himself, like the one he just heard right now.

It worried him on many occasions.

Being honest with himself, when he interacts with Red Hood it reminds him a bit of himself when he was younger.

Just a little bit.

Avoiding the whole business of the crime lord, of course.

And the height difference between the two.

Sometimes unintentionally, he compares him to his son.

Shake your head to erase those thoughts.

Focus Willis.

Proceeds to sit on the nearby single sofa, placing the first aid kit on the living room's center table.

“I bet you'd rather ask me about some criminal you could kill, wouldn't you?”, Willis asks, with a mocking and funny tone towards Hood.

He huffed. Expressing his frustration over the situation. “Honestly, I'd really prefer that instead of this. I just can't think of which drug lord or narcotraficante I could ask him anymore.” Hood answers, as she settled better on the couch and avoiding forcefully moving his right arm.

Red Hood's first visits were not like those of these last weeks.

He can still remember the first visit.

And the second.

And the many visits that came after.

At first, Red Hood used to ask him if he could or what he thought about killing a certain criminal. The curious thing was that, when Red Hood told him the name of the men he was thinking of killing and waiting for his opinion on the matter. Willis was able to recognize them. I had personally met many of them and several are still in the program to this day like him.

I didn't know the reason for those questions or why I was asking him. He answered the reason why couldn't kill them. There was much discussion about it, especially by Hood.

When he mentioned about the foundation and that they were participating in it.Red Hood didn’t believe it at first, or didn’t expect it to work, and that they were actually doing their job. Also, that the criminals planned to kill were part of that program...was kind of ironic.

He and Red Hood had an argument about it. Didn't know what happened with Hood because he didn't visit him in three whole nights.

Until he saw in newspaper posts that the killing rate caused by Red Hood was slowly going down in recent weeks. He was happy for him.

Red Hood stopped asking those questions and those old kind of visits became these casual ones. Such as those now, for example.

This is what her nightly routine change became.

Now he is healing the wound of a lord of the teenage crime.

Proceed to open his medicine cabinet. It's not like I had a lot of supplies, specifically for knife wounds of the size and severity that Red Hood has. He takes out the gauze and bandages in order, ignoring his trembling fingers. Willis just wishes that shitty wound didn't need stitches, although in their damn rehabilitation program they were taught to treat different wounds, he didn't manage to learn it very well. If that were the case, both of them are fucked. May their classes from that blessed program bear fruit, let them come to him at this moment and don't forget it right now.

See how Hood keeps scratching Kathy’s back gently and she seems to enjoy those caresses. She rubbed herself between her legs.

Smile a little.

Take out the disinfectant to place it on the table with the other supplies, clears his throat, simulating a cough.

“You know... as a young i was learning about the parts of vehicles or distinguishing whether a shot was from the police....... or from a neighbor”, Willis tells that anecdote from his adolescence with a small smile, remembering part of his complicated youth.

He got an idea.

See if you can guess the age of Hood, how fun.

He will take a chance.

I continue speaking, “Never I imagined that one day would be curing the wound of a vigilante. How old are you? twenty, sixteen?.” Willis asked, looking at his face. Let's see if I can guess one of those ages he randomly mentioned.

Red Hood raise the head without leaving to stroke to Kathy, his voice exited with a clear note of annoyance of what said Willis. “Twenty six,” he murmured sounds very confident.

It reminded him of those teenagers who pretend to be older to get into places that are not suitable for them, such as speakeasies, for example. Something he himself once did.

Willis Heaved an eyebrow looking it, did not argue with him. Only it muttered “Mhmm, yeah right,” with a funny smile. It is impossible that Red Hood have twenty-six. It did not surpass the twenty years like minimum.

Red Hood’s corpulence at first sight made him look like someone older, but if you pay attention to his behavior and how he talks. It's obvious how young he is.

When he turned eighteen, he was not nearly as tall as Red Hood.

Willis' family was never one of men with great stature. If badly it does not remember, very few had the height of a metre eighty. Among them were his other older half-brother named Walter and his own father.

When he had his last growth spurt, reached its current height of one meter seventy-three. He was not as tall as he would have liked, but was satisfied.

Well...reluctantly.

What else could he do, after all?

He remembered that once they told him about his maternal grandfather, whom he never met, measured less than him.

His father always reminded her that he had gotten the height from her mother with mocking laughs. By saying that kind of stuff, he would get a slap from his mother.

None had the height that Hood possessed. 

That’s why Jay was born short too, that made him adorable as a child.

And well, Catherine never liked men who were too tall, hehe.

Proceeds to take out the other materials he might need, a slightly empty bottle of alcohol, creams, some old blunt-ended scissors and other things he thinks will be needed.

While he was concentrating on getting out the last supplies, it went unnoticed how Hood was silently looking at him for a while with attention.

When Hood noticed Willis was about to raise his head, he timidly averted his gaze and pretended to have his attention back on Kathy, continuing to caress her gently.

Once Willis finished taking out what he thinks will be necessary. He proceeded to slam the old medicine cabinet shut.

“Let's do this fast, yes?”, Willis said serious. Although without hardness, it has no energy for this.“Let me see that wound.”

Making a vague gesture with his hand towards Hood, telling him to hurry up so he could help him with the mess he’d gotten himself into.

Red Hood did not respond immediately.

Kathy from the ground, move the tail following stroking Red Hood's legs gently.

He attends silently, without saying anything. He takes off his jacket with slow and clumsy movements, helping himself only with his left hand.

He left his jacket next to him like an old rag, in the middle of the couch.

Willis said nothing while watching him.

With the jacket now set aside, he lets Willis look at the wound.

Seeing her, he didn't expect her to be so ugly.

It is located on his right forearm, it was done in a violent and brutal way. It wasn't a clean cut. The suit was torn as if it were just a cheap fabric. The wound descends diagonally, becoming an uneven path, slightly exceeding the material of the suit. The skin was already red and very swollen.

Kathy raised her head and sniffed the ai, as if I could smell the blood.

Willis couldn't help but open his mouth in surprise at the sight of that wound. I did not expect to see something so serious honestly

If this was your son, I’d be scolding him already.

Realizing what he was thinking, he quickly shook his head with his eyes closed.

Don't think about it Willis.

Looks at it and points at the wound with his finger.“Seriously this wound was made with a butcher knife?,” Willis said, unable to hide his own amazement. I didn't know those knives could leave that kind of wounds. Although he saw several knife wounds, he never saw one from a butcher.

That really surprised him.

Really

Red Hood, humorless argument, “It was a knife for cutting meats, i think it was one of those used to cut the ham. In case you wanted something specific.” He sounded very irritated.

Willis had not asked for specifications.

But thanks anyway.

¿I think?

Willis took the arm without asking the watchman's permission and examines it closely.

“You are very lucky that the cut has not reached your damn bone.” Willis growled, while angrily looking at the cut in more detail.

Willis saw many wounds, some with their own eyes.In Blackgate, confrontations between prisoners were very violent and sometimes they ended up being bloody. He was rarely able to witness them, was just getting started with the rehabilitation programme so stayed away of his own volition. Although I could admit with embarrassment that before starting with the program, sometimes he got into one or the occasional fight.

Or they injected him with an injection in the prison infirmary to sedate him by his own request. Sometimes not.

But he soon learned of others. Everything that happened was passed from prisoner to another and followed the chain that never seemed to end. They included each other, , until a partner mentioned that they fought only for a damn drug. Some of them were forced to be part of the program. He did not know what happened to them, because by then was close to having his probation.

But I did not know why the wound of red Hood made him feel a knot in his stomach.

Willis rushed to ask Hood, “Since when do you have this damn wound.” Already preparing the bandages without taking my eyes off that wound on the arm.

Saw how Hood looks away, as if he didn't want to answer.

Hood pauses, it seems that he is calculating the time in his head. Prays it was only a few minutes. Finally i declare, “A couple of hours ago. I don’t know exactly, it could be two, maybe three.” Hood said in a low voice.

“Three hours.” Willis blinked in disbelief. “And still you are of foot?”- Seriously, because Hood thought it was a good idea to come to his apartment while himself he bled alive in a term of three hours.

Red Hood shrugged subtly, as if it were no big deal.

“It was in an alley about five blocks from here,went to that abandoned liquor store. The guy ambushed me sneaking out of the place with the ham knife.” Said Hood.

Willis looks at him, blinking after hearing it. I knew that place. That area was a meeting point for smokers and drunks. There were graffiti everywhere, gang symbols and broken bottles. That damn alley smelled of moisture and something worse. That damn alley smelled damp and worse. Plus, it was connected to other dead ends, with a high probability of getting lost there.

Red Hood takes it out of his thoughts, he continued to tell the story of his crossing. “I think they wanted to see if there were some bottles so that they could be resold clandestinely, if they could be worth it.”

He tells it like he’s giving a work report to his boss.

As if Willis was the boss of Red Hood, what a joke.

Willis keeps looking at him and answers him with sarcasm, “Yes, of course”.

“And you escaped from there to come crawling to my apartment?,” Said Willis bluntly. While crossing his arms and keeping his back straight.

Red Hood scoffed.“I'd rather say I dragged myself with style.”.He says it dramatically, as if it were something funny. Willis didn't see it that way.

With style my balls.

Willis looked at him for a moment longer, saying nothing. He was tempted to hit him over the head with the first aid kit.

If I could have that energy which I so longed for.

“How come you didn’t pass out on the way, damn it?”. Willis says, unable to resist scolding him.

“I stayed awake at all times, i didn’t have any blackouts getting here. I think it was because of the adrenaline of the moment.” Hodd responded with complete honesty.

Willis shook his head.

He didn't even feel like answering him.

He proceeded to pour alcohol onto a gauze, ith unsure hands.

The strong smell of alcohol reached his nose.

“Just warn you, this will burn well strong.” Warned Willis slowly, inadvertently raising raising his intonation unintentionally.While holding the alcohol in his right hand and the gauze in his other hand.

He received only silence.

Red Hood didn't answer him. He just nodded his head.

Continued with that damn calmness that was starting to make hair stand on end.

Willis lowered his head a little. Close your eyes and exhale through the nose several times, trying to contain himself.

Is very tired. Seriously.

He's getting another headache.

This insomnia is killing him.

Would that.

He just wanted to go to sleep as soon as he got to his apartment after shopping. Not being an unlicensed personal nurse.

Points it out with what little patience has left. “I'll tell you straight, no beating around the bush. If you hid a corpse here, I won't be your accomplice. Swear I'll leave you unconscious on the floor until the next morning.” said Willis, he tried to sound threatening, but his exhaustion wasn't helping.

A laugh could barely be heard breaking the silence, Willis saw Hood's shoulders shaking. Trying to hold it in... but to no avail.

And Hood laughed.

Ahhh, so this bastard found what he said funny, It's good to know that..

Thank you very much for that information, Hood. I appreciate it.

Take a deep breath, Willis.

Close your eyes and breathe again.

As the counselor said.

It's not working.

Neither was the migraine that was starting to form in his head.

He's seriously tempted to hit Hood with the first aid kit for turning him into his personal nurse.

“Since when have you been breathing as hard as an old bull?”. Hood dared to ask after his moment of silence, looking at him confused as if he knew him of a lifetime. He knows that he can't see his face for that red helmet, but I would bet that he would have an expression of pure confusion.

But instead...

Willis was looking at him with no emotion.

He just blinked himself very... slow.

Before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a meow coming from the floor, taking him by surprise. Eliminating any idea of how I wanted to answer Hood. Eliminating any idea of how I wanted to respond to Hood.

Willis ignores his cat’s meow.

Or I try when i listen a second, soft and short meow.

Lower your head carefully, arching an eyebrow watching what his cat was doing that was still on the floor. Staying next to Hood.

Kathy standing with her tail raised, was rubbing up between Hood’s boots and by the way also did it on the bottom of the sofa, with eyes closed of satisfaction and arching the back. She digs his claws into them as if they were a scratching post and stretches out comfortably.

“Kathy”.Willis growled through his teeth, without raising his voice.“Hood's boots are not a cat scratching post.”

It was answered by another meow from Kathy, and she continued rubbing himself among Red Hood's boots, leaving him to his own devices.

Traitor.

With his shoulders slumped, Willis let out a long, heavy sigh and looked up at the ceiling for a few minutes.

He points at Hood again with what little patience he has left, resting his arm on one of his legs.

“I'm warning you, if that wound of yours makes this room start looking like a crime scene... and my cat ends up smelling like your filthy blood.You're going to clean it until you pass out, got it?” Said Willis, i try to sound threatening towards Red Hood.

But instead.

Red Hood didn't respond immediately. He just tilted his head as if he were considering what he said.

Oh, look how funny, for a moment that gesture seemed familiar to Willis. Jason also used to do that a lot... realizing what he was thinking, he quickly dismissed it from his head.

Don't do this Willis.

His therapist warned him that this could be due to his insomnia. He was fucking right.

He shakes his head rapidly with his eyes closed.

He didn't notice that Red Hood saw him doing that like crazy.

After seeing the gesture Willis made, he took the initiative to break the silence and tell him why he came here.

“I only came here because I knew you had spare bandages,” Red Hood explained in a low voice.

Willis looked at him and blinked confused.

Like twice.

Sometimes I would like Hood to take away that damn helmet to see what his face is how he says those bizarre things.

He snorted between his teeth. He shook his head, crossed his arms and realized that his hands were empty. He saw that the gauze and alcohol, already without a lid, were on the table. He must have left it there without noticing at some point.

That's weird.

At what point she left it there.

He barely remembers what he's doing due to this insomnia, just perfect.

This happens to him for pretending to be a nurse without a license.

“I have them because you bought them. Something that I never asked that you do it Hood,” says Willis, Trying to make the other guy see that he’s tired somehow.

“Well, in the end, they served, right? Because you yourself said that you had run out of first aid kit bandages,” Red Hood replied proudly, settling further into the sofa with a quiet satisfaction despite the wound on his arm.

Why the hell does Hood seem proud of buying those bandages for a moment, without even asking him to?

Willis could notice that Red Hood gave another slight jump on the couch, but said nothing.

It was as if he was proud of something he himself had bought.

Something that nobody forced him to do.

It sounded almost childish.

“Also… Didn’t you say that your counselor checked the medicine cabinet every month or something?,” Hood asked, trying to remember what Willis had said four days earlier.

Ahh..…... yes, he himself said that about his former counselor. His name was David Carter, recommends you always have a first aid kit and that he could review it at any time during his visits. Then they changed it to another one who is the current one, his name is Sam Collins,  however, almost never checked his medical kit.

To his satisfaction, did not come to please him entirely to Davis.

He and Sam got along well, they now speak to each other more confidently than before. Sam is a chubby guy, white skinned and always wears a suit. Plus, Sam was about ten years older than Willis. He's a good counselor. As an interesting fact about Sam, his parents were also born in Crime Alley, what a funny coincidence. Sessions seemed more pleasant and comfortable with Sam than with David.

Willis used to tell Hood certain things about Davis before was traded. Was notified of this by email. He is surprised that Hood has remembered his former social worker.

In one of Hood's first visits, Willis told him as Davis used to sometimes check his kit every month being very thorough in that. The following night when Red Hood visited him again, he arrived with new bandages to restock the first aid kit and other additional items. He also brought some fish treats for Kathy that she devoured with pleasure and a new toy mouse that keeps her entertained for hours.

“That had been my old counselor, they changed it to a new one named Sam Collins, he does his job well and we already get along well, it was quite fast in fact,” finally answered Willis.

“What happened to the other one then, wasn’t his name Davis Cartin or Carver... something like that I think...?,” Red Hood asked without being able to avoid his curiosity, besides trying to remember the name of his former social worker without any success.

“You mean Carter? , what I was told about him is that he was transferred to another state in the country because they were short of staff,” answered Willis.

Red Hood was silent for a while, if he didn’t have that helmet on Willis would bet he’d be confused because, he stayed like that for almost a long minute.

“So you just changed it?....... they just transferred him to another state in the country? ....... only for lack of staff? And the program only I notify you to tell you about the counselor change, just like that.,” Hood replied, with restrained incredulity that seems to explode.

That confused Willis.

“Yes?... are doing their job well,” Willis said in all honesty.

“And seriously... didn’t you think it was weird? that being a program of a place like Gotham and knowing what this city is like, sSeriously, you didn't find that change strange. ...,” He rose quickly from the couch, but before Red Hood can say anything else, he hissed in pain.He put his other healthy hand on his right arm as he slammed up, when he had to keep sitting on the couch. He seriously forgot that the reason he came in the first place was because of his wound which is by a damn knife to cut ham.

Being the reason why he came in the first place making him his personal nurse.

When Willis heard Red Hood's second hiss of pain, he acted on instinct and didn’t think twice.

And he didn’t know why.

Willis got up almost immediately.

He was almost able to make a perfect synchronization with him, except for the difference of a few seconds.

As if something in him pushed him to do so, before reasoning. Just hearing the hiss of pain coming from Red Hood made his body move on its own. His feet moved first before his mind.

He took a firm step toward Hood to stop him firmly by the shoulders before he took another step. He may be shorter, but that didn't stop him.

He may be lower, but that didn’t stop him.

Willis released a “Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh.” Fast and frantic, to stop Hood. avoiding raising my voice too much, but firm enough to stop him when he saw what Red Hood was doing.

Perfect.

He noticed that like trying to stop a stubborn cat.

Of all the times he comes to visit him at night in his apartment without being invited, Red Hood did look like a stray cat.

But that is not the central issue right now.

“Have you forgotten the reason why you came here in the first place?”, asked Willis angrily, with a firmness he had not used for some time.

He remembered when he used that same tone of voice with Jason, when he was very young, he caught him playing one of his pranks on him when he was taking a nap in the afternoon

When Jason was a kid, he went through a phase where he made pranks. A lot of pranks. Most of those pranks were aimed at him and Catherine, a pranks or two were directed at one or another neighbor when they still lived in Crime Alley.Some of them went to him to claim it for the jokes that hiso his son, but instead there were others who told them those jokes as a funny anecdote while laughing telling them what made their day.

He was surprised by some of his pranks.

But the prank that touched him that afternoon seemed a bit far for a four-year-old, and he decided to call Jason’s attention and scold him. After that, Catherine had told him he had exaggerated a bit, while laughing in his face and at the same time carrying Jason. His son kept sobbing from the scolding, tightly holding the material of his prank in his hand. That was all she could say, because she couldn't stop laughing at the sight of Willis's face covered in streaks from different colored marker ink while he tried to remove them by washing his face with cheap alcohol for about three days straight.

I was using that same tone on Red Hood.

“I remind you of your shit wound that you made in your own arm?, How the hell do you even think of getting up in this state?”, Willis growled angrily, with a firmness of voice that he had not used for a long time.

“You are going to sit down on the sofa again right now to finish this once and for all,” Willis commanded, pointing to the sofa firmly.

Red Hood snorted in annoyance, not taking his eyes off Willis.It's as if the two were in a gaze competition, but Hood kept holding his injured arm.

“But I just…” Hood tried to justify himself, but was interrupted.

Willis in a loud voice, I order -“ NOW ” -interrupting him with a single word, giving an order with no intention of concealing it despite his insomnia.Staring at Red Hood as if he were a Ill-behaved child, though sometimes he behaved like one. Putting his hands on his hips looking at him angry.

A total silence fell in the room.

Only the bustle of traffic outside could be heard.

The two said nothing.

They stared at each other. Willis is waiting for an answer from Red Hood.

Hood uttered a series of words that sounded more like meaningless babble and that didn't seem to form any word or sentence, that's what Willis could hear. He saw how Hood paused for a moment to sort out his words mentally or looking for a better excuse. Tried again and he finally gave up.

He dropped on the couch again, right in the same place where he was at the beginning reluctantly, avoiding the look of Willis.“Yes sir,” replied Hood, automatically and with restrained bitterness.

It was as if Willis was scolding a teenager.

Ok... this was weird, I had to admit.

It's not like he's the boss of Red Hood, far from it.

As if he were the boss of a teenage crime lord.

Nadia would believe him.

The atmosphere became awkward for the two of them.

Willis brought a fist to his mouth, faking a cough that fooled no one, not even himself. “Okay,” he mumbled, barely audible, to no one in particular.

He sat back down on the only chair he had been sitting on, in front of him was Hood.

Hood doesn't say anything, it was clear that he was also uncomfortable, more so than Willis himself.

Willis did not dare to speak either. Felt uncomfortable, damn it.

Red Hood reached his arm out toward Willis, making a gesture as if to say, 'Go ahead, just get it over with.' Willis then proceeded to treat his wound.

With steady hands, he took Red Hood’s forearm. He had already seen the wound when Jason took off his jacket, but he still couldn't help but hiss at the sight of it once more.

Using his basic first-aid knowledge, he decided that the first thing he should do was stop the bleeding.

He looks again at the table where the uncapped alcohol is still lying, and the gauze is abandoned to one side. He may have to use a new one if it is no longer usable or if he can reuse it. He takes it again to see it and sees that it still works. Perfect, it still serves him.

Willis proceeds to clean the gushing blood that continued sliding down the forearm, noting the existence of blood accumulated on the edges of the wound. With utmost care he uses the gauze to begin cleaning the edges of the wound, that had the freshest blood. He used alcohol from time to time to remove the dried blood stains on Hood's skin. He will also need a lot of cotton so that it's easier, perhaps he could use alcohol or hydrogen peroxide.On second thought, he'll use hydrogen peroxide first, and if it complicates things, alcohol will be the choice. He proceeds to take the hydrogen peroxide from the first-aid kit and leaves it on the table along with the alcohol bottle.

He's said it before, but no points, please. 

He continues to clean the wound, being accompanied by the silence of his apartment.

Kathy is worried and at the same time was being the nosy cat that she is. Remains on the ground tilting his head, evaluating and observing the movements of Willis's hands with curiosity.

Being in his work as a nurse, he saw how Hood seemed... annoying perhaps? He wasn't sure. He looked at every part of the apartment, except at Willis.

Willis' eyes deviated for a moment to Hood’s left hand, leaning on the opposite armchair from where he was sitting.He seemed to be scratching the sofa's leather, opening and closing his hand repeatedly over and over, or closing it into a fist.

Doing it in a very impulsive way.

As if he needed something to distract his hand or keep it busy.

He set aside his job of cleaning up Hood’s blood for a moment.

Willis clears his throat a bit to get Hood's attention “Hey...” he says it in a softer tone now.

Hood hears him in the middle of his little trance, lifts head and looks at him.

“Listen,” Willis said more calmly, “ I do not know what you have with the rehabilitation program that bothers you, I can understand that it is not reliable for something that you yourself think it is not, but when I tell you they do their work well, they do it well. And it by was my own decision to participate in that program. You don't have to worry about that. Okay.”

Red Hood remained silent for a moment and simply nodded with a defeated shrug.“If you say so...... Mr. Todd”.

Well, now that Mr. Todd didn't come out as forced anymore.

Willis responded with a small smile.

Returned to his night-cleaning job. Used a little alcohol on a specific spot on the wound, where Hood's skin had another small cut that is not as noticeable. Hood hissed in pain from the burning sensation. Willis knew that could happen at any moment, so he reassured him by continuing to speak in a soft voice. “Take it easy”. He hastened to use the alcohol in cleaning the most deep part of the wound.

Willis was about to continue when he noticed Kathy move from her spot, Hood noticed it too. Both men followed her with their eyes, watching to see what she was doing.

Kathy hopped onto the opposite side of the couch with a feline leap, briefly sniffing the jacket Hood had left there earlier. She curled up on the cushion and settled in. With her blue eyes, she observed the scene where the two men found themselves, meowed and licked one of her paws, completely ignoring them both.

Willis and Red Hood were silent.

Willis surveyed the scene before him, looking at the two figures. On one side was his Siamese cat and on the other, a teenage crime lord who, after so many visits, had turned him into personal nurse. He had become the responsible adult for all three of them.

He looks up at the ceiling and asks the universe why this is happening to him.

Only wanted to sleep.

Willis sighs wearily, this will be a long night.

That’s for sure.