Alone

Everyday that passed was like torture. Every time he saw her was like a knife to the gut. Every second that passed in his studious watch of her burned through him like a bad mix of whiskey and bourbon, culminating in a sickening weight in the pit of his stomach.

She was strength incarnate, he was death personified. She was his everything, he meant nothing to her anymore. He was dead, she might as well have been.

How could one man, one psychopath take so much in such a short time?His life, her legs... Why? Because he could, because he wanted to, just because...

She used to soar through the sky with grace and agility. She used beat men and monsters alike twice her size if not more. She used to do a lot of things she doesn't anymore.

Now she sits, her beauty lit only by the computer displays. Her body stationary and lifeless in her chair... Her prison. She was bound, scarred and captive in a body that no longer obeyed her, and with each passing day he watched, he watched her go through the motions. He watched her live, despite all she had lost.

He was back in Gotham for the first time since going head to head with his father. And while he still seethed at the idea that The Joker, that that abomination was still alive he found some comfort in the fact that he knew his father still loved him and would fight for him if given the opportunity. It was in the past year since the 'big reveal' that he could feel his anger, the anger that returned from the other side with him start to slip away, ebbing in and out as he slipped into depression.

His brother knew of his resurrection, they'd run into each other a time or two since then, but it was plain to see that what once was brotherly rivalry could easily turn deadly between them if left to their own devices. So they avoided each other, subsequently ending their tenuous brotherly bond.

Which left her, the third string that pulled him back to this city. That kept him awake at night. He was just as much a coward now as he was then when it came to her. He could act confident and smooth around her as kid all he wanted but underneath it all his heart was pounding, his pulse racing. He was in love.

She was in love too, but certainly not with him. No, that kind of love was reserved for the brother he no longer had. It always had been and it always would be, no matter the distance between them or the significant others they went through. It would always be them until the end.

He'd lost count of the nights spent alone, the nights plagued with thoughts of her. Her long red hair, her sweet yet sultry smile. Her kind heart, even in the face of his jerkiness. She was a beacon of hope to him. A light in the darkness that came with his early career.

And now, years later as he sat perched on the building across from her clock tower, he couldn't help the tear that slid down his face as he watched her laugh with a close friend. She's happy, despite everything.

A night of patrols ends, the heroes turn in, and he slips in without a word, without a sound. She looks so peaceful, asleep and unaware. How mad would she be if she found him here? If he woke her would she yell, would she scream, would she call for back up? Would she cry, would she ask him to stay, would she be happy to see him? Probably not.

So he remains silent in his vigilance, taking in her world through the red of his hood. And that's when he sees it. A photo from so long ago. A photo of them, of her and him, and his brother, together, smiling, happy. A family he'd once wished for. A life he could never return to. Their smiles were so bright so wide. It was a happy time despite nightly activities, despite sibling rivalries. Back then he wouldn't have traded it for anything, even knowing he couldn't get the girl, even knowing the hard times to come. If he had that now, he'd hold onto it so tight no one would ever be able to take it from him.

He's so caught up in his thoughts he doesn't notice her stirring. Her voice is soft with lingering sleep as she calls out to him. "Red?" He turns then, looking down at her as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. "What are you doing here?" It could just be her sleepy state, but he's sure he doesn't detect any anger or accusation in her voice.

He says nothing as moves up beside her, kneeling beside the bed and just watching her. She must be starring at her own reflection in his helmet, it's the only thing he knows she can see and he's grateful for it. He doesn't know if he'll be able to handle looking into her bright blue eyes with no protection, like staring into the sun. They're silent as they stare each other down, almost as if they're in a trans. He's so mesmerized by her that he starts when her hand comes to rest on his helmet.

"Bruce said that you were alive, that you're..." She is unable to finish.

"Say it." Is his only reply. He wants to hear her say it. He wants to hear his name roll off her tongue.

"Jason." It's a whisper. She runs her finger tips across the polished red acrylic. "Let me see. Prove you're who you say you are." He hesitates. He knows she may not like what she sees. But looking at her now, he knows he can't deny her anything.

He removes it slowly, carefully. And when it's gone, he hesitates to look back at her. He can feel her fingers on his cheek. They trail up to his domino mask and he flinches away when she tries to remove it. He knows if its gone there will be nothing left between them. No barrier to protect him from her ever watchful eye. She looks sad at the thought that she won't get to see him fully.

"Please Jason. I need to make sure, I need to see for myself." And just like that he gives in to her. She's careful in removing it,like its the last Christmas gift left to be open and she wants to savor the moments remaining. But once it's gone all she can do is stare at him, pain and relief mixing in her azure pools. He's startled when tears begin to form. Even now he can't stand to see her cry.

"Why?" He's not sure what she asking. Why what? Why did he come back? Why didn't he stay dead? Why would he cause so much trouble? He's not sure what she's asking but he is sure she's angry with him now. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. Maybe she wished he was still dead. "Why didn't you come home sooner?" She continues when he doesn't answer her. And he's shocked by what she says.

"Bruce said you were lost, that you suffered, that you came back broken. Why wouldn't you come home, why wouldn't you let us help you?" The tears were spilling and a panic set over him he'd never felt before. She was crying and it was his fault.

He hurt her...

"Barbie." He began with a softness he didn't know himself capable of. He looks her in the eye and suddenly he doesn't have a good reason, he doesn't have an answer because every excuse he could come up with teeters precariously on the idea that they...she wouldn't want him back and looking into her eyes now, he knew none of it was true. She did want him, she did miss him, and he was a fool for staying away.

"We're your family, Jay. We love you, I love you, no matter what you do or what happens." She tells him as he hangs his head in shame. He can feel her shift closer on the arm she's leaning on and rest her forehead against his. He's a bit taken back by her gesture but he doesn't move for fear of losing the contact. He does however, move when she pulls away only to return a second later to lay a kiss on his forehead.

It's a gesture he hadn't expected and he looks up at her, their eyes meeting. "I love you too." He knows she didn't mean it the way he means it, but for now he doesn't care. He just needs her to hear it from him. He just wants her to know. Because he knows her well enough to know that she won't hurt him. She'll know he's already hurting by his tone, she'll know that he's fragile and she won't let him feel alone.

His heart lifts when a small smile spreads across her face, her eyes sparkling with emotion. She is truly beautiful in that moment and he can't stop himself from leaning forward, brushing his lips to hers. He could feel her stiffen against him, and it suddenly occurred to him what he had just done. He pulled away, looking horrified by his indiscretion.

He had never cursed his impulsiveness more than this moment. But even as he thought about it he couldn't fully regret his actions, especially as he recalled the feel of her soft lips against his.

He's so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't notice her leaning forward, stealing a kiss of her own. He's surprised but he doesn't hesitate, not after wanting this for so long.

She soft and warm against him, her tongue sweeping through his mouth tentatively, exploring the new territory. She pulls away first, her strange position making holding her breath more difficult. He looks confused, but happy, something she couldn't say she saw when he first arrived.

He's looking at her now, a light tint across his face and the same hopeful gleam he had in his eyes the day they met so long ago. It was in that moment she saw the boy she used to know, the boy cut down in his prime. The boy who loved her even when she couldn't love him back.

She looks away from him, collecting her thoughts before turning back. "I can't live up to the standards I set as Batgirl. And I'm okay with that. This isn't a weakness anymore." She gestures to her limp lower body as an explanation.

"That's good to know." He tells her confused. He's not really sure where she's going with this but he'll listen, especially if there's a chance she'll kiss him again.

"I can see it in the way you look at me, the way you all look at me. All you can see is the girl I used to be and that's not fair. I've worked hard to turn tragedy into opportunity." It makes sense now. She wanted him to know she wasn't the same woman he once knew that things were different now and he shouldn't be sad about it because she wasn't. But if things really were different, then maybe, just maybe she could love him the way he loves her.

"I want you Barbie, I want all of you. Good, bad." He confesses whole-heartedly. She's the woman of his dreams and he wants more in that moment then he's ever wanted anyone or anything. She smiles sadly at him. She knows what he wants, she knows all that he wants, and while she can not give him everything he asks for she can give him something.

She's leaning toward him again, slanting her lips over his. This time her kiss isn't as gentle. This isn't a time for tentative hesitation or second thoughts. Now it's just them.

His jackets on the floor next to his boots and weapons, and he's climbing up onto the bed, stretching over her like a security blanket she didn't know she needed. She made a career out of being strong, stubborn, but for tonight she would be pliable, willing, loving.

His hands are all over her, touching where he knows she can feel it. Like a blind man reading brail he memorizes her body with his finger tips, every inch left burning in the wake of his touch.

It's not long until they have bared all to each other and he suddenly feels like a teenager again. This isn't his first time, but it might as well be with the butterflies that have made home in his gut. He is nervous and she can tell, so she reaches for him, bringing him down to her and plying him with kiss after kiss of encouragement.

He's grateful for her understanding and seeks to reward her. Things grow frantic after that. He has her in edge, playing her body like a finely made instrument. She is hot and frazzled and she feels like screaming with every second he teases.

He's smirking that infuriating way he did when they were kids and he was hitting on her. But she can bring herself to care because at that moment he decides to end the torment.

And suddenly he's there, and everywhere and she's all around him, squeezing and kneading him in a way that has him groaning. The sound is music to her ears she wants more and she gets it as he begins to move. They're together in that moment, connected by so many emotions, and it is so overwhelming that she is pushed over the edge viciously.

He wants nothing more then to make this last forever but even as he considers the ramifications of the idea, she is milking him for everything he's got and he's gone, falling over the edge with her.

When they hit the bottom they're a mess of tangled limbs and sweat slicked skin. Their breath mingles in the air and he reluctantly rolls to her side, gathering her in his arms as he goes.

They don't speak, they don't need to. And while he knows that this may never last, he is content in the knowledge that she is here with him now.

That he is not alone...

A/N: Someone on Tumblr mentioned that there weren't enough Red Hood/Oracle stories, so here is my solution.