Night had descended by the time they've left the bar, but not enough for the streetlights to come on. The chill of the evening breeze made Dick tuck his neck into the collar of his jacket. The ends of his hair poked out. Jason reached out to straighten them.

"You should cut your hair," he said, taking a cigarette out of his pocket when he was done. "Shall I take you to a barber?"

Dick touched his hair. "I like it. Why should I cut it?"

"So it looks less messy."

"I'm Romani, Jason," Dick laughed. "I prefer my freedom as opposed to what others think."

"True that." Jason lowered his head and lit his cigarette. His brows knitted together, the creases on his face deepening with worry.

"Is there something you needed to tell me?" Dick asked.

Jason turned to look at him, something unreadable rippling across his green eyes. Just as Dick thought Jason would confess, the latter shook his head. "Come with me first."

It was Jason's old home, which also became Dick's.

The building was old, a slightly less worn one in the heart of downtown. Pieces of tiles were coming undone from the room. Pale, gaunt faces flitted past the cracked windows. A small playground stood across from it; the sandboxes were empty, and only the metal chains remained where the swings were. The slides had no rails, and even that great tree that was Dick's favourite had been cut down, leaving behind a mere stump. A few scrawny children leapt over it, pretending to be Batman. Dick watched them, almost seeing within them their own childhood.

Jason puffed out a mouthful of smoke; his cold eyes narrowed, warming them somewhat. He dwindled back to the person Dick knew. "I remember you loved that tree. You carved our names onto it, even. I remember Jerry laughed at us a lot for that, calling us prissies."

"I saw it on T.V. They said if you were to carve your names onto a tree, you'll be together always." Dick smiled at the memory. "But look, even the tree is gone now." He paused. "Can we still be together?"

Jason did not answer, instead turning back into the building. A hollowness filled Dick's chest.

The insides of the building was older than Jason remembered. The smell of rotting wood invaded their noses. Who knew where the building managers went. Someone spray painted the words "get out" on the doors to the manager's office. The first floor appeared to be vacant, and based on its empty furnishings, thieves had frequented it.

Jason lived on the third flood; it had now been claimed by a group of teenage punks. They crowded into the hallways, all of them wearing heavy makeup, a roll of marijuana between their fingers. The party had already started. They jeered at Jason and Dick, whispering to each other as they walked past.

Annoyed, Jason pushed away a teen standing in his way. The boy wanted to lash back, but retreated when he gauged Jason's muscles. Dick looked around in curiosity, fascinated by the way the teens dressed.

Having crossed with some difficulty past the crowd, they've arrived at the end of the hallway. A few more drug addicts skittered away from them, until at last they were alone. Only then did Jason take out a set of keys. With much difficulty and groaning, the lock cooperated. Dick glanced at it, noting the countless scratch marks - signs of attempted break-ins.

The door opened with a begrudging creak. This suite was against the setting sun, and thus was almost all dark. Jason groped for the light switch and turned it on. This time, he didn't get cooperation as the light bulb flickered, and then exploded, the fragments glinting briefly in the dim light.

Dick poked his head through the doorway. "Remember how we were never worried about the electric bill, but the light bulbs?"

Jason did not answer, instead entering the apartment and then closing the door behind them. The noises from the hallway got cut off, leaving behind just Dick and the watchful silence.

The room had been ditched by time. Since Jason had given it to the Russians as security for loans, nothing had changed. It was old but tidy, and Jason would be the only one to have kept it that way.

The floor creaked, the wood near the fireplace deformed. The couch Jason picked up from the dump was still there at the middle, the springs poking out from the cushions. Dick remembered how when they used to watch TV, the springs were the imaginary borders of a game they played; whoever crossed it would be punished. But soon the game came to a halt as Jason sold the TV to buy medicine for his mother.

Compared to the bar, Dick missed here more. This was their home together. And Dick had dreamt countless times of returning here to live together. It didn't occur to him that they could stand here again once more. He did not feel an ounce of excitement, however - there was just so much to worry about.

He barged into Jason's bedroom, coming to a halt in front of the wall marred with scribbles.

Jason never really celebrated his birthday - rather, he had no concept of it until Dick entered his life. Though Dick had no money to buy Jason gifts, he gave him a set of colourful crayons for Jason to write down his wishes onto the wall - one day they may come true.

At first Jason had resisted, but could not say no to Dick. Eventually, it became a habit, year after year.

"I wish Dick would talk less. He's too chattery."

"I wish Dick were my real brother - though sometimes he looks like he wants to be my mom instead."

"I wish that next year, I'll be able to eat a chocolate brownie."

Dick couldn't muffled his snickers as he re-read what Jason had written. He turned to look at him, only to find him leaning against the glassless window, smoking one cigarette after another. The dim light turned Jason's eyes into mellowed jewels, and they stared out listlessly.

"I wish our situation would get better."

"I wish mom's illness would be cured."

"I wish Dick would be able to get that bar."

"I wish for Dick to pass his entrance exam, so he can become a cop like he wanted."

The handwriting gradually grew neater, following the years as its owner grew up. Dick caressed the letters, feeling the wax under his fingers, as if doing so would allow him to touch the hand that had written them. As he trailed his fingers downward, he noticed a slight bump near the very edge of the wallpaper. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that someone had pasted a piece of the identical wallpaper over the original. He carefully removed the top layer, revealing another wish written beneath. Based on chronological order, Jason would have been about sixteen.

"I wish for Dick to be with me always. I love him."

His heart thundering in his ears, Dick looked at Jason. By now the sky had darkened completely; darkness, like a beast, had swallowed half of Jason's face, leaving behind the prominence of his cheekbones and the paleness of his lips.

"Do you remember what happened after you got brainwashed by the Court?" Jason said, startling Dick.

For a moment, Dick thought Jason had caught him. "What?"

"Do you remember the missions?"

Dick thought hard. He knew he'd done bad things, but it was hard to recall memories that had no ties to emotion. The past lingered like a sandcastle, ready to collapse any moment. "To be honest, I don't remember - nor do I want to."

Jason turned back to the window, as if unwilling to face him. "I remember some, but I always thought them hallucinations."

"Why?"

"The water from the Lazarus did something to me. I can't tell reality from my imagination." Jason said, for the first time opening up completely. "And because of it, the Court couldn't brainwash me. As a result, every time I finish a mission, they'd return me to the freezer. They'd inject more Lazarus water into me, as if I were some drug addict. They don't want us to ever come into contact - because just by mentioning you, I'd go mad."

"Jason..." Dick had heard about the incident from his handler - Talon number 139's lack of self control, the murder of countless medical personnel. But at the time, Jason was but a mirage of the past to the brainwashed Dick. The Court had taken over all his focus. Guilt crawled up his throat, choking him.

"I didn't even remember who I was for the first few times. But gradually I got used to it- and remembered some stuff." Jason managed a smile. It pained Dick further. "I thought about you, and the past. But every time the mission ends, everything starts over. Finally. Finally they forgot to give me my injection. I woke up, still remembering everything, and I ditched the mission to find you."

A coldness crept up Dick's hands.

"I found you soon enough, though I had to burst the heads of a couple of the owls. And all the Talons that came after me went to their permanent graves."

Dick hesitated. "You found me?"

"Of course."

"What ... was I like?" Dick didn't dare look at him.

"I saw you on a mission at a port. You were reading lines like a robot, and then snapped the person's neck without any hesitation." Jason took another puff of his cigarette, its end lighting up a flickering instant to beyond. "I wanted to take you away, no matter what you became. No matter where. But I hesitated. I was afraid that the soul inside that body was no longer that of Richard Grayson."

"I'm never going back! Even if I were to die, I will remain myself." Dick interrupted. "I want to be Richard Grayson once again. I want to be a cop - a good person!"

Jason seemed unmoved by the outburst. He lowered his head, and grinded the cigarette butt on the windowsill at the end of a row he'd already finished. They stood there like tombstones.

"No matter what happens?"

"That's right." Dick watched Jason's back, his mind going back to the Batman's words. "I don't want to hurt anyone else."

Jason turned towards him at last, facing him. His face remained obscured by shadows. "I'm willing to do anything for you, Richard. Whether it's to kill or to die - if it were for you, nothing would be an issue for me."

Jason's confession was straightforward, but Dick felt no joy in it. The Jason the Court had given back to him was no longer the scrawny but angry child; he was looking at a stranger.

His gaze seemed to melt Jason's stiff face into something more of a loss. He reached out a hand to Dick, his voice low. "Don't be so far from me, Dick.

Like a siren to a sailor, Jason's voice held irresistible charm. Dick gravitated towards him until at last, they stuck close to each other, almost able to see each other's reflection in their eyes.

They didn't know who made the first move. They kissed, breathes entangling with their saliva. Dick hooked his arms around Jason's neck, whereas Jason gripped Dick by the waist. Jason's hand snaked under Dick's top, tracing the outline his waist, his muscles.

Dick gripped him in desperation, as if trying to seek some assurance from the unsettling feeling within. He peeled back Jason's jacket, tugging him into bed. The single bed groaned at the weight of two grown men, but they ignored it. They tore at each other like wild animals until at last, they pressed their naked bodies together.

From the dim streetlights outside, they could see the scars on each other's bodies. Interlocking like a web, the scars spoke of a language of pain. Dick immediately spied the bullet wound on Jason's abdomen, the crawling scar tissue a pale flower blooming against toned muscle.

Mesmerized, he touched it. Jason grabbed Dick's hand; watching Dick's face filled with guilt, he said: "It's not your fault."

"Jason..."

"Stop talking. I don't want to hear it." He swallowed what Dick was about to say, forcefully licking at the cracked lips, moistening the skin with his saliva. His tongue slipped into Dick's mouth. Dick matched his movements with his own.

Dick's length hardened, pressing against Jason's stomach. The heat burned. Jason grabbed Dick's hand before the latter could touch himself. He moved his lips away, enjoying the look of need on Dick's face.

"Hmph." He pressed a kiss onto Dick's palm, and then gently grazed the fingertips with his teeth. His movements were the most gentle, as if Dick were the most precious being in the world. Every touch of his emanated a suppressed carefulness, yet the frown between his brows betrayed his extreme need.

Dick hooked his arms around Jason's shoulders, forcing him downward. "You don't have to be so gentle. I don't need it." He whispered in his ear, and then bit down on Jason's earlobe.

Jason flinched. His eyes darkened, and he forced Dick's arms down to the bed over his head. He buried his head at the crook of Dick's collarbone, nibbling at the skin, drowning in the warmth. Bruises started to marr Dick's skin. Dick welcomed it, the pain that was so different from the normal wounds he often suffered. His fingers and toes curled.

Releasing a breathless sigh, Dick raised his legs and wrapped them around Jason's waist, grinding their lengths together. A trickle of numbing pleasure tingled up their backs. Jason reciprocated Dick's movements; he cupped a hand around Dick's butt and squeezed, his fingers sneaking closer and closer towards the entrance until at last, he entered him.

Dick didn't feel any discomfort as Jason inserted a finger. It excited him more that Jason was taking the initiative. Jason increased the number to three, his fingers stirring up Dick's insides, brushing against the prostate. A wave of pleasure invaded his brain as Dick moaned, uring Jason on: "Faster, Little Wing.... Give me more..."

Jason let go of his restraint of Dick's arms, and flipped him over. Before Dick realized, he was kneeling on the bed. Jason's burning body slid behind him, a cold hand pressing down on the back of Dick's neck. Dick was forced to press his forehead into the mattress - he could smell the mold.

He didn't like this position, for he could not see Jason's face. But he preferred satisfying Jason than himself at this moment. Before he could protest, however, Jason had entered him.

Filled to the brim and connected with each other in the most intimate of ways, Dick felt the hollowness in his chest close up. His head, however, pounded with a piercing pain. The lack of lubrication trapped Jason's movements, but none wanted to stop.

As Dick adjusted to the length inside of him, he patted the hand still pressed to the back of his neck. Only then did Jason start to slowly move, made difficult by the dryness. Dick groaned in a low voice mixed with slight pain. Sweat trickled down his temples and into his eyes, blurring his vision. He thought he might be bleeding as well - a rust-like smell permeated the air.

Jason stopped, squeezing Dick questioningly.

"Don't stop... Jason... come closer... let me feel you."

Dick propped himself up, moving in unison with Jason's thrusts. In kind, Jason crouched low, his heavy breaths at Dick's ear, his sweat dripping onto his back.

He didn't speak, but rather bit down on Dick's neck like a predator treating its prey, drawing blood. A strange satisfaction filled Dick. He wanted Jason to leave marks - to show that he belonged to Jason only, and not the Court of Owls.

Hormones rampaged between the two young bodies, more addictive than any drug. Everything spiralled out of control as they let their primal instincts take over.

"Jason... let me see your face... please..." Dick begged.

Jason released him, turning him over. Dick looked up through his blurred vision, just making out Jason's cold green eyes. He reached out and touched the stubble on Jason's cheeks. Jason leaned forward, clasping their hands together.

Only now did this almost war-like lovemaking session take on some tenderness exclusive to lovers. Gently, Jason lifted Dick until the latter hung helplessly off of him. He never slowed his torturous thrusts. Dick's arms hung uselessly down Jason's back, his sweat-soaked head lying upon his shoulder.

His eyes filled with tears, be it pain or despair. They finally spilled over, trickling down the corners of his eyes. But neither noticed in the midst of their lovemaking session.

Dick had a hunch. This time, Jason was leaving him for good.