As usual, Gotham started snowing in earnest on Christmas Eve. Snowflakes fluttered in a symphony of elegance, only to attach to the passersby, following their footsteps across the city. Within the heat of the living rooms they'd melt, rising back up as steam into the skies of their origin, waiting for next Christmas.

The holidays, however, were much less interesting than the adventures of snowflakes, the same repeats year after year.

During the day, Christmas carols chorused in unison across all radios. The sides of the streets were draped with plastic green and red flowers, and rows of paper-cut elves hand-in-hand. On this day, the sun disappeared early, bringing about silence with its absence as the stores closed and the streets cleared.

No crimes were committed, for it was as if all of Gotham decided on a truce for this particular day of the year.

Jason tugged close his worn jacket - the one that belonged to his father. As the snow picked up in earnest, his eyelashes blurred white, hindering his vision. Looking up at white flurry highlighted by the street lamps, he swore: "Dammit."

He'd never hated snow before - though he'd always disliked it. The temperature always dropped drastically after the snow stopped. Dick and he needed heaters, and thick clothing; all were constant reminders that they needed money.

But today, the reason was slightly different. Snow obscured vision, hiding dangers in plain sight.

Almost there, Jason. Once you've arrived, you'll get money; you'll be able to buy medicine for mom. And Dick could get a new coat - the one given him by his little girlfriend is so damned ugly.

Jason encouraged himself as he tilted his head low and plodded on. Compared to a few years ago, he'd shot up in height. No longer the scrawny street rat, he was almost as tall as Dick. Despite looking withered from malnourishment, no one dared pick a fight with him. His skills with the knife had not eroded.

Unknowingly, Jason passed a clothing store for men. Compared to the rest of the stores downtown, its merchandise is reserved for the elite; on this day, however, it did not escape the cliches of Christmas decorations. The mannequins with their woolen Christmas sweaters made a laughing contrast to the clothing within.

Jason had once joked to Dick about the storeowner's tastes, but he had to admit that there's something special about the clothing sold here. He had saved just enough money to buy a coat to replace Dick's stupid Bohemian jacket.

But the keyword was "had".

He sighed, and sped up. His mind was in a daze, unseeing as he bumped into various people that swore at him. He didn't bother retorting; he's got more important things to do.

A block from his destination, a tingle of unease crawled up his back. This familiar feeling had helped him avoid many disasters in the past. In response, he slowed, trying to look natural. His green eyes darkened to brown as they shifted, alert.

Across the street lurked a man in a thick coat, his face half hidden by a black scarf. Hands in his pockets, he stared at Jason, his eyes venomous.

An assassin from the black market.

Jason widened his pace, calmly slinking deeper into the alleyways as he tried to lose this troublesome tail. His mind, however, was on fire.

Fuck. What bad luck to encounter this on his first trip..

He recalled the contact's shifty behaviour. The package he'd given him must have been obtained through illegal means, and poor naive Jason is about to get between the clash between two rival gangs. The guy must have been sent to rough up the messenger, giving a reason for both gangs to finally erupt in turf wars.

I'm not a fuckin punching bag!

Clenching his jaws, Jason darts into the shadows, hiding himself behind a garbage dumpster. Rigid, he withdraws the gun hidden in his coat - he'd picked it up in the aftermath of a gang battle; it's almost new, and came with a full cartridge.

A shadow flitted at the entrance. With steps too lively for a killer, the person approached, their soft soles unable to give away his exact position. As their distance closed, Jason heard the scuffing of shoes, each step crashing hard on Jason's hearbeat.

At last, the person stopped.

"Jason, you there? I saw you come in." It was Dick.

Jason let out a breath, and quickly hid the gun - he'd get a scolding if Dick saw. Then he decided to punch Dick, only to realize that his muscles were entirely stiff. As a result, he crashed onto the ground.

Dick yelped, and rushed to help him up. "Are you hiding from me on purpose, Little Wing?" He bit back a laugh as he dusted the dirty snow off of Jason's clothes.

"Fuck you." Jason struggled to keep calm, letting Dick do as he wanted. "I thought I was being tailed. I was about to teach him a lesson."

"Alright, alright. Don't be mad." Dick was still wearing that awful jacket, his handsome face graced with a silly yet adorable smile. "Today's Christmas. What are you doing outside? I've been waiting for a while at the bar, Little Wing."

"Really?" Jason felt a twinge of guilt. He wondered what Dick would say if he knew what he had in his coat.

"I went to your place, but no one opened the door. But I heard Mrs. Todd coughing." Dick kept his tone light, but worry emanated from his eyes. "Jason, is she alright? Is she too sick to open the door?"

Dick, my mom is gonna die! What do I do?!

Jason could not suppress his eyes brimming with tears. He hated this side of himself. Every time Dick comforted him, even if it were as natural to Dick as patting a dog, Jason would lose control. He'd only feel the need to rely on someone else when it was Dick.

But he can't let Dick get involved. He'll only ruin him. Dick had just taken over that small bar, and was slowly making ends meet. He couldn't afford any trouble.

It's his own problem that his mother was so ill. The fact that the medications were two hundred dollars per bottle was also his own problem. The decision to become a smuggler was also his own to deal.

"She's fine. You know her. All she needs is to get high." Jason snorted as usual. "Go back first. I'll come by later.

The assassin may appear any second. He needed to get Dick out of here.

Yet the normally easy-going Dick did not relent. He frowned, taking in the sweat collecting on Jason's forehead. "Jason, what's happening?" As Jason averted his gaze, his temper flared. "Look me in the eyes, Jason!"

Stubbornly, Jason looked away, clenching the package in his grasp.

The movement caught Dick's eye. He calmed, a waver in his otherwise steady voice. "What is this, Jason? When did you start to do this?

The package was too big to be innocent.

"Fuck off!" Jason exploded. "I need money, Dick! I need a lot of money this instant! Or else my mom is going to die! I can only watch as her face turns green until finally she's a frickin corpse!"

"Even so, you can't do this! You'll die!" Dick's voice hardened, causing Jason to back away. Seeing the despair in his eyes, Dick sighed, lowering his voice. "You could come find me. I can think of something. You still have me..."

A chill rushed up his back - he's here! Fear clutched his throat, a feeling he'd never encountered before. The blood in his veins pumped, rushing towards his head with such speed that he started to hallucinate: for moment, he saw Dick in a puddle of blood.

"Go away!"

Jason pushed him away and ran out of the alley, just brushing past his pursuer. The assassin did not spare a single glance towards Dick, and instead turned after his target.

Jason pretended not to hear the the demand to stop, crashing as he tipped over garbage cans on purpose. He even pushed some passersby back towards his pursuer. But the sound of leather shoes steadily increased in volume.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!!

Panicking, he only saw the dead end when he was within it. The footsteps slowed, confident of the result.

A flicker of despair welled within him, followed by rage. He couldn't die here. He needed to do something.

He remembered the gun.

Footsteps approached, each beat in sync with his heart. The organ went into overdrive, pumping, pulsing.

He waited until they were almost one metre apart. He spun backward and pulled the trigger.

The crack split the Christmas night, and then faded into echos. In that instant, the alleyway lit up with the flash from the barrel.

Everything slowed in Jason's eyes.

Dick's eyes widened in disbelief, staring at Jason and his smoking gun, and then towards the wound in his abdomen. Hunched over, he staggered backwards, blood spreading across that jacket.

"Jay....."

He slumped backwards.

Jason rushed forward, wanting to catch Dick. He stumbled and found himself falling.

What is going on?

Like a bomb released from a drone, his body dropped hard towards the ground. Dick's bleeding body fell with him, his dimmed blue eyes unseeing.

Jason realized he was dreaming. What had happened was real, but the ending had been twisted.

Wake up!

The moment before impact, Jason woke; darkness engulfed him, his body encased within a small box. He was on his back, but unable to turn. There was little air, and the stench of earth permeated the tiny space. The surroundings had been cushioned with a well-made material, as if lovingly cushioned.

A casket.

The knowledge suffocated him. He shrugged, screamed, but no one came to save him. He clawed at the lid until his nails were broken and bleeding, his fingers broken. At last, like a hatchling desperate for release, he dug himself out of the earth. His hands bloodied, yet he could only kneel on the ground, unable to move from the pain.

The air stank of sulphur, the sky a rippling blood red. In the distance towered a few scorched trees, dead bodies hanging from their withered branches like wind chimes swaying in the breeze. Red-eyed crows circled the remains as they croaked.

"Little Wing! Where are you? Jason!"

Dick scissored past the crumbling headstones, stumbling towards him. He cupped Jason's face, a treasure regained. Dick's presence calmed him, as if he'd arrived at calm inlet after a night of rough seas.

"Are you alright? My God... look at you... I thought you were..." Dick said.

Jason found himself taken in by the worry on Dick's face. He used to constantly skirt on the edge of danger to make him worry - as if that was the only way for him to prove that Dick really cared for him.

"I'm alright now... now." He murmured as he touched Dick's back, leaning forward.

Dick looked down, studying Jason's trusting face, and then smiled.

"What, you think this is real?" Dick smirked a grin full of malice. "This won't do, Jason. It's not the first time you've been here. Do you not remember the rules? Time to review!"

The monster with Dick's face pushed Jason to the ground, his sharp claws ripping open his chest. The previously solid ground gave away to darkness, sinking Jason even deeper into the fathomless bottom.

The nightmares did not stop.

His memories were constantly exploited to create intricate traps. Jason struggled to free himself, and yet he could not escape. He could only play along, falling into new scenarios each time with a different Dick.

Sometimes Dick would be full of life, too kind and perfect to be real. Other times he'd be naively cruel, a demon tantalizing him.

In the myriad of darkness, Jason felt as if he'd been treated like this before, but he sank himself into these nightmares, unable to remember. A corner of himself relished in seeing Dick every time, despite the bad endings that inevitably rise....

It was a descent to darkness, an addiction no different from that of his mother. But he could not prevent himself from drowning in this twisted memory. It was almost an instinct that seeing Dick brings him happiness. He'd feel ashamed, and hated Dick more and more each time - stop tempting me.

A new round has begun.

He opens his eyes to darkness.

This time he finds himself in a soft bed, a beeping sound by his side. Glancing around, he finds himself in a deep cave. A cold blue light from a screen undulates down on his head. His vision not yet recovered, he cannot make out the words.

"Little... Little Wing?" A voice said, hesitant

Jason turns his head.

Dick shuffles in front of his bed. This time, the demon's acting is crude. This Dick is a well-made plastic doll, his face an expressionless mask for a corpse. He studies Jason, hesitant.

"Motherfuckers!" Jason jumps up, one hand grabbing the demon by the fragile neck. "Stop using his face to trick me! I'm going to kill you all!"