Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jason was flipping a piece of French toast when Roy walked into the kitchen, looking tired and disheveled. Yawning as he scratched at his bare stomach, Roy nodded a silent greeting to Jason.

“Rough night?” he asked, eying Roy as he slumped onto one of the stools around the kitchen island in the narrow brownstone they shared with a few other shifters.  The kitchen was, for once, neat and tidy. Jason was hoping to keep it that way, at least until he finished cooking breakfast. 

The rag-tag group of mostly young shifters that they lived with weren’t, as a rule, great at keeping things clean. They had all come to live with Jason and Roy under very different circumstances. The one thing they all had in common was that they were all under thirty, they were all some type of shapeshifter, and they were all struggling to find a place to live. Their house-mates ranged from those just aging out of foster care, to relatively wealthy young people who relocated to Gotham for college without and were away from their pack for the first time in their lives. 

It made for interesting bedfellows, to say the least. And none of them seemed particularly invested in keeping the house perfectly clean at all times. 

But then, Jason and Roy had never really been neat freaks either. 

Roy grunted in reply and gave Jason a hopeful look as he nodded toward the coffee maker. 

Taking pity on his best friend, Jason poured him out a mug of coffee, doctored it up, and handed it over before sliding a plate of finished French Toast over to him. 

Roy took a grateful sip from the mug and puffed out a sigh of appreciation before he managed to answer Jason verbally. 

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” he admitted, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.  

This wasn’t surprising news. Jason had heard Roy up pacing through the house in the middle of the night a few times that week. The scent of exhaustion and anxiety had been thick in the air despite Roy’s attempts to keep his unrest a secret from the rest of the shifters in the house.

Most of them slept like the dead, but Jason had always been a light sleeper. 

“Nightmares again?” Jason asked as he moved back to the stove to finish making the rest of the French Toast.

“Yeah, I know it’s all sublimated anxiety or whatever, but if there’s one thing I hate, it’s those dreams about being chased,” Roy said, grabbing a bottle of maple syrup Jason had left on the counter and pouring a liberal quantity over his French toast. Jason hoped the sugar and caffeine helped perk him up before the rest of the pack woke up. 

“I know the feeling,” Jason said, wryly. “I think shifters hate those dreams even more than humans. do.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case,” Roy said. “Anyway, how long do I have before the impending stampede?” 

“Joe went for a run this morning,” Jason said. “He should be back soon. The rest of them are still asleep. I’m hoping we have another thirty minutes before they all come clamoring in.”

The brownstone where Jason and Roy lived was a cross between a halfway house and a home share situation. Shifters who couldn’t find roommates in all the usual ways humans did. Living in close quarters would at best give away their status as shifters and, at worst, put both the shifter and human in danger, especially around the full moon. 

They had bought the place a few years back with funding from the leadership of the Gotham City Shifter Society. He and Roy pointed out the percentage of homeless shifters was significantly higher than among humans. A state of affairs that made everything harder and more dangerous for everyone. Taking Jason and Roy’s points to heart, the GCSS had provided funding for the house. In turn, Jason and Roy were responsible for the good conduct of the roughly eight young adult and teenage shifters that lived with them. 

It was not always a fun time and it was certainly never a quiet one. Jason and Roy took their moments of peace when they could get them. Jason was just about to get himself another cup of coffee when he heard Joe’s key in the lock. 

Joe was in his early twenties and worked construction during the week. The extra strength and endurance he had from being a shifter served him well on work sites.  He was often up well before the rest of the house and used his time to run or head to the gym. Joe was a large, burly, hairy man who shifted into a bear and looked like it.

The minute Joe pushed open the door, Roy and Jason knew something was wrong. 

The scent of blood was unmistakable. Dropping what they were doing, Jason and Roy rushed out to check on Joe, who was holding the long sleeve of his shirt to his head to prevent the flow of blood. He looked a little dazed and stumbled a bit as he kicked off his shoes. 

“Bathroom, now,” Jason said, grabbing Joe’s arm to steady him. “Roy, get the med kit.”

They half-carried Joe to the downstairs bathroom and sat him down on the side of the tub. Roy started pulling out bandages and disinfectant as Jason looked over the wound. 

“What happened? Did you fall when you were running?” Jason asked. “You need to be careful on those trails after it rains, they can be slick.”

“No, I didn’t fall,” Joe said and his voice was a mixture of sad and dazed. “Someone hit me.”

“They hit you?” Roy asked, coming up beside Jason and offering him a washcloth to clean around the wound. 

“Yeah, they hit me,” Joe said hollowly. “I was running through the park and these kids, at least I think they were kids. They looked like they were in their teens or something. Like almost my age even--”

“What did the kids do?” Jason pressed, trying to get Joe back on track while he washed away the blood. 

“I guess they realized I was a shifter, somehow. Maybe my size or something. They shouted something, I’m not sure what. I was wearing my headphones, you know? Then they threw a rock at me and another kid hit me with this big tree branch.”

“Shit, what did you do?” Roy asked, kneeling beside Joe. 

“I fucking ran, man. I took off and came back home. Which sucked a little because I was already five miles into my run and tired and then also bleeding.”

“Why didn’t you call?” Jason asked, applying antiseptic to the wound. 

“I… You know… I didn’t think of it…” Joe said, clearly just realizing that calling for help had been an option. 

“Head wounds,” Roy said sympathetically. “They mess you up, man.” 

“Yeah,” Jason said with a sigh as he applied a big bandage to Joe’s head. “Roy, can you take him to the clinic? Someone with more medical knowledge than us needs to check him out.”

“No way!” Joe protested. “I don’t need the doctor. I hate the doctor.”

“You do,” Roy said firmly, hauling Joe to his feet. “I don’t want you passing out in the kitchen. It’ll freak out the other kiddos. Let’s go.” 

Joe was slipping his shoes back on as Roy went to grab his car keys. 

“That’s the third time this month one of us has been attacked,” Roy said to Jason in a low voice so Joe didn’t hear. “It’s getting worse.”

Jason pressed his lips together in a thin line and nodded. 

“We need to figure out some way of tracking these attacks so we know where we’re safe to go and where we’re not,” Jason said grimly. 

“How would we even do that?” Roy asked, shrugging into his coat and giving Joe the ‘wait a second’ gesture with his free hand. 

“I’m not sure. I’ll talk to the pack leader about this tomorrow. But you better get going. The last thing we need is the kids getting up and seeing Joe covered in blood.”

Roy nodded, huffing out an angry breath before pulling Jason into a quick hug. 

“Be careful,” Jason said, hugging him back. 

“We will,” Roy assured him. “I’ll call you if it’s anything serious.”

Jason nodded and went back into the kitchen. The French Toast that had been in the pan was a total loss. Burnt to a crisp. Jason sighed and threw it away before he went back to finishing cooking breakfast. 

It was going to be a long day. 

^*^*^*^*^*

The breeze coming in off the bay felt biting on the bare skin of Tim’s face, he was grateful for the coverage of his heavy uniform. He fought down a shiver as he and Duke watched the warehouse from the vantage point on the neighboring rooftop. 

“Oracle said the raid happened more than twelve hours ago,” Tim explained. “They took the men in for smuggling and human trafficking. Apparently, a pile of the local fisheries need cheap labor to process their catch this time of year and these poor people were supposed to be that cheap labor.”

Duke nodded, narrowing his eyes as he took in the building and the area around it. “So they smuggled folks in from where?” he asked, squinting in that way that meant he was probably using his powers to see things Tim was missing.   

“Russia, they think. The unrest there is causing more people to want to leave, so they’re easier marks, I guess. Oracle and Nightwing are starting to suspect these guys might have ties to a similar group working out of Bludhaven. So we just need to get in and see if we can find any helpful evidence. From what we can tell from the local surveillance cameras, no one has been in or out since the raid finished up.” 

Nodding again, Duke pulled out his grapple. “Let’s check it out,” he said. 

They rappelled down the side of the building and picked their way carefully over to the warehouse. The crime scene tape was still up and the door had some sort of police-issued lock on it, but it took no time for Tim to pick it. 

The place was dark inside and totally quiet. They both turned on their flashlights and spread out, checking the place over. Most of the warehouse was one large empty space with debris scattered around the damp cement floor. Duke went to check out the back rooms while Tim went to investigate the office. Nothing really interesting. The cops had hauled their goods off earlier in the day. 

The computers that had been in the office were seized by the police, but there were a few papers still scattered around. Tim was photographing them and sending the images off to Oracle when he heard Duke swear and fall. Tim hurriedly tucked his camera away as he rushed off to see what had happened, a batarang in hand, ready to pounce. 

“Signal?” he called, his voice echoing in the warehouse. 

“Here,” Duke called back, there was no fear or worry in his voice, just an emotion Tim couldn’t quite place. He tucked his batarang away as he searched for Duke. He was still sitting on the floor when Tim found him, arms back behind him as he leaned away from an opened door. 

“What is it?” Tim asked, peering inside what looked to be a closet. 

A low snarl emitted from the dark space behind the door, and Tim found himself taking a step back. He shone his flashlight into the darkened closet and a pair of eyes glittered back out at him. 

“I’m not sure what it is,” Duke said slowly, narrowing his eyes as he peered into the closet. 

Squinting, Tim took in what appeared to be a young fox in a small cage tucked back behind a bunch of thick coats. Duke had pushed them aside to reveal the animal, who was growling and snarling at them. 

“A fox?” Tim asked, kneeling down to get a better look at the creature. 

“I don’t know,” Duke said, voice quiet and thoughtful. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think that’s a fox?” Tim asked, nodding at the still-furious creature. “I wonder why they’d keep a fox in here.”

“I don’t think it’s a fox,” Duke repeated. 

“It looks like one to me,” Tim said, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at the animal. 

There was no food or water in the cage with it. Just some rags that looked like they were clothes at some point. 

“It doesn’t, though. Not… I mean I know it looks like a fox but…”

“But?” Tim pressed, now looking at Duke who had had eyes fixed on the fox.

“The light around it is moving in… In a weird way, I guess,” Duke said. “It’s not like anything I’ve seen before. It looks more human than animal but it keeps… moving into something… I don’t know. I don’t think it’s just a fox.”

“What do you think it is?” Tim asked cautiously, reaching for a batarang just in case. 

“It’s almost like… It seems like… The light moves almost like how magic does. Not quite, but kind of…” 

“You think it’s a magic fox?” Tim asked. 

“I don’t know, man. I think they wouldn’t smuggle a regular fox into the US. And I think we should call someone to be sure. It could be dangerous,” Duke said. 

Duke was probably right. 

He usually was.

Tim changed the channel to his coms to buzz Zachary Zatara, the World’s Greatest Twenty-something Magician. 

“Oh no, what is this about?” Zat asked immediately as the line went live. “You only call me on this line when something bad is happening. I hate it when you call me about bad things. Why can’t you call me about good things? Like finding me a boyfriend. Or finding you a boyfriend, for that matter.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Tim assured him. “Signal and I found something he thinks is a little magical and we’re hoping you might be able to help figure out what it is.”

“Can you text me a picture?” Zat asked, distractedly. 

“Um, I don’t think that will work,” Tim said hesitantly.

“Why?”

“It looks normal. Like a fox. But Signal says the light is moving funny around it.”

Zat went quiet for a long moment and that made Tim worry the fox was more dangerous than he seemed.

“A fox? Like a live one?”

“Yeah, it’s here in a little cage.”

“Shit, ok. Be there in a minute. Activate your locater charm.”

Tim activated the charm he kept in his belt. It was, apparently, like a magical beacon that made it easier for Zat and Zatanna to find him if he was ever in any sort of magical danger. Zat had given it to him almost a decade ago after a particularly unpleasant run-in with some goblins that spat lava. 

Tim had lost six capes that weekend. 

With a woosh, a portal opened up next to them and Zat stepped out. He was in jeans and a button-down shirt, not his usual suit top hat. His eyes took in Tim and then Duke before turning to the fox.

“He’s right,” Zat said, taking a deep breath and kneeling down beside the cage. “It’s not a fox. I mean, he is but not always.”

“What does that mean?” Duke asked, coming over to stand beside Zat’s crouched form. 

“It means you two have found yourself a shifter. One that looks young and deeply traumatized. Congrats.”

“Shifter? Like a shape-shifter?”

“Exactly,” Zat said, getting to his feet. “Not sure how he ended up here, but it couldn’t have been good. He probably won’t shift back into his human form until he feels safer. They stay animals when they experience high levels of stress. And he looks very stressed.”

“How do we help him?” Duke asked. “Is there a way to make him feel safer?”

“You don’t,” Zat said definitively. “You’ll need to take him back to his kind. Shifters are pack animals. And only another shifter will be able to coax him back into human form. After that maybe you can find his family and where he came from.”

Zat said a few backward words and the fox stopped snarling. It paused for a moment before yawning widely, spinning three times in its cage, and curling up to go to sleep. 

“The sleep spell should last at least ten hours,” Zat explained as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll text you an address where you can take him. It’s a sort of halfway house for shifters. Ask for Jason. Don’t tell him I sent you though.”

“Why not?” Tim asked, his phone buzzing as the address came through. 

“Let’s just say he does not care for me,” Zat said cryptically. “Good luck with the fox.” 

And then he was gone.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Jason puffed out a sigh as he locked up the clinic for the night. Joe had been sent home hours ago with a couple of stitches and an MRI didn’t reveal any sign of concussion. He was back at the Brownstone with Roy and the rest of the crew keeping an eye on him. While Jason was relieved that Joe wasn’t more seriously hurt, he was worried about the escalating levels of violence the shifters in Gotham had been experiencing the past few weeks. 

Anti-shifter sentiment had been on the rise for the past few years. It was backlash to an information and outreach campaign a Shifter interest group had been working on for the past five years or so. Initial reactions to the campaign had been positive and, according to the FBI, reports of violence and hate speech against shifters had decreased for a few years in a row. But in the past year, several online extremist groups began fomenting violence and hateful rhetoric against shifters. It had gotten to the extent that Jason half wished they could all go back to being in the shadows the way they had been when he was a kid. 

Tucking his keys in his backpack, Jason rubbed his hands over his face and made his way over to the alley where he had parked his motorcycle when he came to work that morning. He had gotten a Master's Degree in social work from Hudson, a few years back. While Jason would have liked to go to a better school, it was the only degree he could afford to get without going into crippling debt. 

He’d been working at the clinic for the past two years or so. It was a decent gig, the clinic offered medical care and advice for low-income Gotham residents. It helped Jason stay in touch with his roots. 

Fortunately for Jason, they took all kinds, shifter or human and everything in between. Jason acted as a counselor there. But unofficially, he was mostly a problem solver.  He found places for people to stay when they were between houses, jobs for folks who couldn’t get employment the usual ways, and food for those who couldn’t seem to come by enough to feed their families. 

Jason loved his job, but it was absolutely exhausting most days and deeply sad the rest of the days. But he still loved it.

He parked his bike in the alleyway along the side of the clinic, near enough to the dumpster that most thieves in the area would be put off by the smell. He was about to put his helmet on when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“Jason Todd?” a voice asked as a slim figure emerged from the shadows near the dumpster. 

He was wearing a dark grey uniform with burgundy accents. Jason lived in Gotham long enough to know the guy had to be a Bat of some variety, but he didn’t keep up with that group well enough to know which one. 

“Maybe, who are you?” he asked.

“I am a man who desperately wants to get away from this dumpster,” he said with a grimace. “Can we find a place to chat that’s a little less… malodorous?”

“Are you gonna… vigilante me…? Or something?” Jason asked hesitantly. 

The other man shook his head, tiredly.

“I just want to talk, but not here,” he said. “What do they put in that dumpster?”

“You don’t want to know,” Jason assured him. 

“I really, really don’t,” he agreed bitterly. “There’s a park a block over. Can we talk there? I’m not saying it’ll smell good. But it’ll be an improvement, at least.” 

Jason shrugged before nodding his head. 

For anyone else, getting approached by a Bat at night time would be a bad and potentially dangerous sign. But, judging by the guy’s scent and body language, Jason suspected this visit had more to do with outreach than them busting him for occasionally smoking pot. 

“Lead the way…”

The Bat led them through a few back alleyways to a small park Jason hadn’t even realized was there. It was a small area, reclaimed after a building demolition. Grassy, with young trees, and a few empty benches and some large planters. 

It was nice. 

None of Jason’s senses indicated that the man was a threat. He seemed at ease but also preoccupied at the same time. As if dozens of worries were draped across his narrow shoulders. 

Perching with his butt on the top of the back of the bench, and his feet resting on the seat, he gestured for Jason to follow him. Jason sat on the bench the usual way and looked up at the man skeptically. 

Now that they were far enough away from the poorly lit alley, Jason could take in the man a little better. He was, indeed, slight and slender, though well-muscled for someone his size. His hair was slicked back with a ton of product, the aroma of which couldn’t hide his natural scent. 

He smelled good for a human. 

A little wild, all Gotham, with a hint of spiciness to him. 

Jason fought back the urge to curl his toes as he tried to subtly scent the air around them both to get a clear memory of his smell.  The scent was compelling in a way that made Jason curious about the man. And he couldn’t decide if he wanted to dispel that curiosity by smelling the guy or talking to him. 

Sometimes, being a werewolf was very confusing.

“A friend of mine gave me your name,” the Bat began.

“Yeah, and what’s yours, by the way?”

“Oh, uh. You can call me Red,” he said, as if surprised Jason had asked.

“Just Red?” Jason pressed, knowing Capes didn’t go around giving their real names but still desperately wanting to know Red’s. 

“Let’s stick with that for now, yeah?” Red said. “A friend of mine said you could help me out with what we think is a young shifter we rescued.”

“You rescued a shifter?” Jason asked his attention very suddenly redirected from his skepticism of the other man to what he was saying. 

“Yeah, we think he’s young. And a fox. We found him after a police raid. We think he was trafficked from Russia. You know, to help out in the--”

“Fishing boats, yeah,” Jason finished for him bitterly. “I know all about that.” Red went on to explain how he found the young fox and how he and Signal had been trying to help him since then. “How long have you had him?”

“A few hours now.”

“Has he shifted back to human?”

“No, not at all. He’s been a fox the whole time. Signal, he works with me, sensed he wasn’t exactly human. I asked a magically inclined friend for help and he directed me your way. Said you helped shifters without a support system.”

“I guess, I do,” Jason admitted. 

“Thank god,” Red said, giving him a crooked smile. “My friend said he wouldn’t shift back until he felt safe. We’ve been trying our best, but we’re guessing humans freak him out at this point.”

“Does he have any visible injuries or anything?” Jason asked.

“Not that we could tell, but we couldn’t really get super close to him. He’s very aggressive and tried to bite Signal a few times.”

“Yeah, I might try and bite someone too if that was me,” Jason admitted.

“Understandably,” Red agreed. “Can you check him out, see if he’s ok? Maybe get him to shift back to human so we can find a way to get him home?” 

“Yeah, if you bring him here, we can check him out and see how he’s doing. If he looks mostly ok, and it sounds like he does, I’ll bring him back to our place tonight. We have a shifter doc who can give him a more thorough check-up in the morning.” Jason said.

“Your place?” Red asked, stilling for a moment as he watched Jason. “You’d be taking him somewhere else?”

He was clearly not excited about the idea of Jason taking the fox off on his own. Jason should have felt insulted, but mostly he felt… Pleased? Was that what he was feeling? It was nice to see a non-shifter so protective over one of his own kind.

“I have a sort of halfway house,” Jason explained. “A safe place for shifters whose housing is a little… tenuous. I run it with a friend of mine. There are about eight of us living together. The kids are anywhere between sixteen and twenty-two. If the fox turns out to be a bit younger, I’ll find a placement for him somewhere with kids more his own age until we can locate the family. Younger shifters have more unique needs and are better suited to a close-knit family than my halfway house. We’re a little more independent and rowdy.” 

“That’s good know,” Red said thoughtfully. “Very helpful information. And I do appreciate your help with this. I owe you one.” 

“He’s a shifter,” Jason said. “We watch out for each other. So it’s me who owes you. You’ll collect him and bring him back here? I need to go home, talk to the rest of the people I live with, and grab a car.”

“Yeah,” Red, nodding slowly. “That all makes sense. I can bring him back here. In say, two hours?”

“See you then.”

^*^*^*^*^*^

When Jason went back to the clinic, he brought Roy with him for good measure. Roy also shifted into a fox, so Jason was hoping that would help the kid come out of his shell when they finally met. 

On the drive back to the clinic, Jason filled Roy in on the details. 

“Man, this would have been a whole lot smoother and less traumatic if they had just called us the minute they found the kid,” Roy said, leaning forward anxiously in his seat. 

“Honestly, I got the sense the guy, Red, was sizing me up when we met. Like he was trying to figure out if I was a safe person to come to with this.”

“You think?” Roy asked, turning to watch Jason curiously. 

“Yeah, I have no doubt the guy did a background check on me before he even got to the clinic. Then he asked me about my work, our little brownstone, and everything. He was absolutely sizing me up. Whatever you have to say about the guy, he’s got the little fox’s interest at heart, I think.”

“You didn’t… sense anything off about him?” Roy asked tentatively. 

“Not really. He smelled worried, but not strongly and it spiked when we talked about the kid. So I get the sense it was the little guy he was worried about. Other than that, no lies except when he gave him his name. Which--”

“Obviously isn’t his real name,” Roy said, “yeah.” 

When Jason went to park in his usual spot, he found another black car parked there as well. Red stepped out of the car when he saw Jason pull in, offering him a slight wave. 

“He’s cute for a cape,” Roy said sotto voce as the two of them exited the car. Jason shot him a quelling glare and Roy looked innocently back at him. 

“Good, you’re here,” Red said as another figure, this one dressed in bright yellow, exited the car. He pulled something out after him and Roy made a hissing sound. 

“You put him in a fucking cage?” he asked, rage tightening every muscle in his body as he stepped in close to Red. 

“More like we couldn’t get him out of it,” the yellow guy said, coming up to stand next to them and lifting the cage so they could see. “We opened it right away when we found him, but he kept huddling back…”

Swearing to himself, Roy took the metal cage out of the yellow guy’s hands and peered in. 

“He doesn’t look or smell hurt,” Roy said, anger still thick in his voice. “He just smells scared.”

“Let’s get him inside and see if we can’t get him out of that thing,” Jason said, pulling his keys out of his pocket and beckoning them to follow him to the side door. The clinic was dark and smelled of antiseptic. But the bright white walls illuminated quickly as the motion detectors flicked on the lights above them. 

They all traipsed back to an exam room and Roy set the cage on the floor. Jason shut the door to keep the little fox from bolting if he did come out, while Roy opened the cage.

Roy was whispering softly to the little fox in a quiet, soothing voice. 

“Signal,” Red’s voice said softly to the guy in yellow. “Let’s back away a bit. I’m sure we’re still pretty scary to him.”

Red and Signal backed off into a corner, watching Roy and Jason trying to coax the little fox out. 

“Yeah, this isn’t working,” Roy said with a sigh. “Let’s see if I can get him out the old-fashioned way.”

“What’s the old-fashioned way?” Red asked as Roy started to peel off his clothes. 

“No peeking,” Roy told him with a grin. Red and Signal politely looked away as Roy shifted into a rather large red fox.

“Holy sh--” Signal began, but Red grabbed him by the arm

“No swearing. We don’t know how young the kid is,” Red scolded. “But yeah, I agree. Holy something.” 

Jason shot them both an amused smile as Roy huffed out a breath and climbed into the cage with the little fox. It took some coaxing, but eventually, they both ventured back out of the cage and onto the clinic floor. 

Roy, in fox form, was snuffling around the kid, his nose digging into every cranny he could, trying to find injuries. Jason was relieved when he finished, giving the little fox an approving lick to the top of his head. 

“He good?” Jason asked Roy. 

Roy sneezed out a yes and Jason felt himself relax. 

“No major injuries we can find,” Jason translated to the two fascinated vigilantes. 

“That’s good to know,” Red said slowly. “If you bring him back and find something… less obvious… we’d be happy to help with any medical attention he needs.”

“We have a shifter doc who works pro bono on our kind,” Jason explained. “No need to worry there.”

“That’s good to know. So if I find a shifter who's been hurt or needs medical attention in the future, you and your docs can help them safely and discreetly?”

“How often do you find shifters that need help?” Jason asked, eying them curiously. 

“One year ago,” Red said. “Must have been more than a decade ago. I called a magic user for help and she stepped in. But if there’s a system within the city that would be less… disruptive to any victim we find…”

“That would be a very helpful thing for us to know,” Signal finished for him.

“To be honest with you,” Red said, his voice turning firm and professional. “We’ve been getting concerned. With the increase of anti-shifter rhetoric online… Well, we’re worried your community may be targeted more often. And we don’t really know enough about your community to help you all effectively.” 

“Ironically, every person we’ve found who has been hurt in an anti-shifter attack has been human so far,” Signal explained with a sour expression on his face. 

“That’s because shifters know when to run and we’re very good at hiding,” Jason pointed. “And a lot of them make their way to me anyway.”

“Ohhhhh, riiiiight,” Signal said as understanding dawned over his and Red’s faces. 

“They turn into animals and hide. That’s why we don’t find them.”

“Exactly,” Jason confirmed. “But if you do, I can give you my cell number. Reach out to me and I can help.” 

“And if we have… indicators that point to an area being unsafe for shifters at a particular time…? I don’t want you all to live in fear but I’d rather be cautious and wrong than have you walk into somewhere we know might be dangerous.”

Jason cut his eyes to Roy who was curled up around the little fox. He gave his redhead a nod and Jason took a deep breath. 

“That would be very helpful, actually,” Jason said. “Any information you have that can keep us safe would be great.”

Red nodded and they exchanged information as Signal watched Roy and the little fox on the floor.

“Think he’ll change back?” Signal asked. “I just… I guess I’m just still worried about the little guy. I know you said he’s ok, but my brain wants to see a human who isn’t bleeding or crying.”

“Roy will stay with him in fox form until he’s feeling brave enough to be human again,” Jason said. “I can call you when that happens. I could take a day or two depending on how traumatized he is.”

Red nodded and looked grim.

“If you get a name from him when he’s human again, we can see if it matches any of the known trafficked victims. Maybe get him back with his family if we can.”

“That’s great.” 

Signal looked like he was about to cut in with something, then went very, very still. Red followed suit and the scent of anxiety spiked in the air. 

“Repeat,” Red said, touching a finger to his ear. 

Whoever was on the communicator in his ear clearly said something he didn’t like because he and Signal shared a worried look. 

Red made a series of rapid hand gestures, Signal nodded and left the room quickly and silently. 

“What is it?” Jason asked, narrowing his eyes and Red pulled a screen up and scanned the readout. 

“Oracle, a friend of ours, keeps an eye on us through suit cams and security cameras. They picked up movement outside just a few minutes ago. Looks like six to ten people. They got a firm ID on one of them with facial recognition software.”

“Let me guess, he’s part of the Anti-Shifter brigade?” 

Red nodded grimly. 

“We think it’s likely they’re here to destroy the clinic. They seem to have some sort of accelerant with them. I’m going to get you and the foxes back to your car and make sure the way is clear for you to get them someplace safe. You know anything about evasive driving?”

“Absolutely not,” Jason said, shaking his head. “Roy can keep an eye on the kit. They’re foxes. Hiding is ninety-five percent of what they do. I’m helping with whatever it is you’re about to do. I’m not about to let them destroy my clinic.”

“You’re a civilian--”

“Who turns into a wolf--”

“Are wolves bulletproof all of the sudden?”

Their argument was cut off by the sound of a small explosion outside and Jason felt the hackles on the back of his neck rise.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

“Get them out of here,” Tim commanded, ushering Jason and the two foxes toward the door. He stepped up ahead of them scanning the area to see if he could catch sight of the source of the explosion. 

Gesturing for them all to follow him, Tim picked his way quietly through the darkened clinic. He could hear one of the foxes, he thought it was the small one he saved, whimpering softly. Gritting his teeth in resolve, Tim got them to the back door, quickly. 

There was one lookout, paradoxically leaning against the back of Jason’s car. Tim’s stunning Batarang was already in flight by the time he noticed them coming out the back. It hit him before he had time to react or alert his fellow terrorists.

The two foxes silently slipped past Tim, one glancing back at him as they trotted quickly out of the alley and away from the building. Jason stepped in quickly to hit the keypad on the locking mechanism on the door, re-arming the alarm and locking the building up tight. 

“Roy will take him to Robinson Park to hide,” Jason said, his voice pitched into a low growl that made something twist in the pit of Tim’s stomach. “It’s only a block or two away. There’s plenty of places to hide there.” 

“You should join them,” Tim said to him pointedly, nodding in the direction the foxes went. “This could get dangerous. They’re all armed to the teeth and have explosives.” 

Jason shook his head grimly and, for some reason, Tim couldn’t really fathom, knelt down to unlace his thick books and pull them off.

“I work here,” he said as he got back to his feet and pulled his shift off. “And even if I didn’t need my paycheck pretty badly, this place is critical to my people. I’m not letting them burn it down.”

Before Tim could respond, something… changed in the air.  Like the barometric pressure suddenly dropped and Tim’s ears popped. Jason’s shoulders hunched and he was taken all over by thick dark fur. In less than a minute, Jason had shifted fully into a large, imposing dark gray wolf. 

Or, he would have been imposing if he wasn’t fastidiously trying to kick off Jason’s jeans and boxers. 

Before Tim could even think of what to say, the loud bang of another explosion rocked through the alleyway. 

“They have Molotov cocktails,” Signal’s voice came in over the coms. “They haven’t been able to get one to go through any of the windows yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”

“Where are you?” Tim asked, starting off in the direction of the noise, Jason hot on his heels. 

“On top of the building across the street from the front of the clinic,” Signal said. “Are the… did the little guy get away?”

“The foxes are on their way to take cover in Robinson Park,” Tim explained as he and Jason carefully made their way around the building. “They should be safe there. But… uh… our other friend is insisting on staying to help.”

“What other friend?” Oracle’s voice came in sharp over the coms.

“A wolf-y one,” Tim explained. “He works here. Also, he hates these guys.”

Oracle swore and said some choice things about both Tim and Jason’s judgment. Tim tried to ignore her but from the way Jason was cocking his ears, Tim suspected he heard Oracle’s tirade too. 

Stopping to peer around the corner of the building, Tim caught sight of a black mini-van parked out front. The side door was wide open and three men were hanging out, Molotov cocktails in hand. They were dressed all in black with masks covering over their faces. They were quiet as they worked, throwing the flaming bottles one by one into the glass. Each subsequent one was aimed at vulnerable sections of the glass that had been cracked by the initial throws. 

“Cops are on their way,” Oracle’s voice came in over the coms. “Seven minutes out.”

“Their response time gets worse and worse every year,” Signal grumbled. 

“In seven minutes they’ll be past the glass and the whole place will be on fire,” Tim said. “I’m going in.” 

“Tim wait, they probably have guns--” Oracle was saying as Tim whipped out another stun batarang. He took out the first one quickly, hitting him with the batarang on the side of the head. The stunner sizzled and he cried out as he went down. His two friends watched him go down, shocked into momentary stillness as Tim and Jason rushed the van. 

Tim pulled one of the men out of the van and threw him to the ground. As Tim pulled one of the men out, Jason pounced on the other, pushing him inside of the van. It rocked as he growled and attacked the man. 

The man Tim had pulled out of the van skidded across the pavement as Tim opened his bo and went in for an attack. He was knocking the man unconscious when Jason primly exited the van, his muzzle wet with blood.

“You didn’t kill the guy did you?” Tim asked him as he peered into the van. The man was unconscious, lying across a pile of spilled Molotov cocktails. Jason snuffled out an indignant huff and looked up at Tim indignantly. 

“Cops are three minutes out,” Oracle’s voice came in over the coms. “If you and your furry friend don’t want to get caught red-handed, so to speak, you might want to get out of there.” 

Jason cocked an ear and headed back off to where his car was parked in the alley. Tim tied up the unconscious men and lined them up neatly against the side of their van before heading back to follow Jason. 

He found him pulling his clothes on and tugging his keys out of his pocket. 

“You’ll be able to find the other two ok?” Tim asked him. 

“Yeah, I’m just worried about the security footage of us,” Jason said, nervously eying the keypad to the building. “Do you think I could--”

“I’m on it,” Oracle’s voice came in over Tim’s com. 

“Well take care of it,” Tim assured him. “Call me when you’re back safe tonight. I’ll give you an update on these idiots.”

“Thanks,” Jason said with a smile as he slipped behind the wheel of his car.

And then he was gone. 

The sirens from the police were getting closer, so Tim made his way up to the top of the building across the street to join Duke. The two of them watched as the GCPD took stock of the situation and started to bundle the masked men into the back of the police cars. 

“That somehow went both better and worse than I expected,” Duke said philosophically. 

Despite being a civilian of sorts, Jason was extremely helpful through this entire process. Not only had he been instrumental helping with the kid, but he was also very good in a fight. Tim wasn’t sure he would have been able to save the clinic from serious damage without his help today.

While he was clearly still suspicious of Tim and Duke, he held out hope that he could earn Jason’s trust. Not only would his help be invaluable to the mission, but he seemed like a good person just trying to help people out. That simplicity of that spoke to Tim. 

Among other other things. 

While he had been focused on the group of terrorists trying to attack the clinic, he hadn’t been entirely oblivious to the way Jason looked before he shifted. All pale skin, thick thighs, and perfect muscles. 

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, trying hard not to think too much about the glimpse he had of Jason’s shirtless abs earlier. “I know what you mean…”

^*^*^*^*^

Jason sat at a corner table in his favorite dive bar trying and failing to stop himself from anxiously pulling the label off his bottle of beer. He was about twenty minutes early for meeting with Red and he couldn’t seem to fully tamp down on the nervous energy he was feeling.

This was one of his favorite bars, dingy, dark, shifter-friendly, and made excellent French fries. Roy and Jason knew most of the bartenders and they had a habit of “forgetting” to add all the beers they drank to their bill. 

But tonight Roy was home with their new little fox friend and Jason was anxiously waiting for Red to show up. 

They hadn’t communicated much, just a few text messages for status updates, but Jason was still nervous about meeting up with Red again. He wondered if things would feel different between them without danger and doom looming over their interactions. 

It was hard to say. 

It took a few days, but Roy had finally managed to coax the little fox to shift back into a human. They hadn’t managed to get a name out of the kid yet, but the kid seemed taken with Joe so it was only a matter of time before they got him talking. 

Jason was hoping he had at least a little English but Roy wasn’t optimistic. 

He was weighing the pros and cons of ordering some French fries when we caught sight of Red scanning the room for him. He offered a little wave and Red caught sight of him, nodding in acknowledgment as he made his way over to Jason’s table. He was wearing a thick sweater with a scarf, both blue and both bringing out the color in his eyes. His hair looked freshly washed and fell in a wave over his forehead. 

He looked much nicer than he had in his superhero outfit. 

Clean cut and neat and much more willing to smile in Jason’s direction.

Jason really liked that smile.

“How’s the kid?” Red asked, sitting down across the table from Jason and tilting his head in inquiry. 

To Red’s credit, his first concern was the kid. It made Jason feel even better about this meeting. 

“He’s shifted back to human form,” Jason explained, half-rotating his bottle of beer. “We had him checked out by a couple of docs. He could stand to gain a few pounds and he’s clearly got some post-traumatic stress going on, but he’s generally ok. He’s eating more but he still isn’t talking.”

Red frowned and nodded thoughtfully. Jason smelled the concern coming off of him and it made him relax even more.

“I was hoping to get him back to his family as soon as we could,” Red mused, leaning back in his chair. 

“Roy thinks that the fact that he hasn’t asked for his mom or dad yet means he probably doesn't have any,” Jason explained. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Red said, grimly. 

“I can start asking around, see if there’s a place for him in Gotham,” Jason offered. “But I’m not sure if, legally, we’ll need to send him home. I don’t know much about the immigration process.” 

Red tilted his head to one side, thoughtfully. 

“I would ask the kid what he wants. Does he want to go back or stay here?”

“Immigration--”

“I can take care of that,” Red said dismissively. “Not a problem.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at him and Red just looked back at him mysteriously. Jason huffed out a laugh and finished off his bottle of beer. 

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, getting to his feet. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Red answered with a grateful nod. 

Jason sidled up to the bar and got two more beers before sitting back down next to Red. He handed off the other bottle and Red took a long swallow. 

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

Jason couldn’t help but think that he was very cute when he smiled. It made him want to make Red smile even more often. 

“We heard that the cops were pressing charges against the people who attacked the clinic,” Red put in. “Apparently, they’ll be taking a plea deal that includes quite a bit of prison time. Hopefully, it’ll be safer for you all on the street these days.” 

“I mean, they’re not working in isolation.” Jason pointed out, taking another sip of his beer. 

“Very true,” Red conceded with a nod. “We have been doing our best to track attacks on shifters in Gotham, but the data set is small. It’s hard to draw any conclusions or see any patterns just yet.”

“Because we don’t report every attack to the police,” Jason put in. 

“That’s where I was hoping I could lean on you a little,” Red said, leaning forward and catching Jason’s eye. “Even if you don’t go to the cops, you could send the data over to me…”

“And you would…?”

“Look for patterns. Change our patrol parameters. Pull in social media data and model out results that project out periods of higher than typical violence,” Red said, gesturing with his free hand. “If we have more information, we can make better decisions and give you warnings.” 

Jason’s instinct was to trust Red. He didn’t smell like he was lying and he had done nothing but try and help and support Jason and the other shifters he had encounters. But Jason and his kind weren’t wary of humans without reason. He took a long pull on his beer to give himself time to think about how to answer. 

Red, seemingly sensing Jason’s hesitation, tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. 

“Think about it,” Red said, still sipping on his beer. “I get your hesitation, but we do have Gotham and your best interest at heart.

Jason nodded and tilted his head to the side in silent agreement. 

“How are things going at the clinic?” Red asked, changing the subject as he leaned back in his chair and taking another sip of his beer. 

“They’re going ok,” Jason said. “We have some minor repairs to do. I’m not sure where the hell we’re going to get the budget. I could ask the Gotham City Pack Leaders, buuuuut I feel like I used all my goodwill from them when I brought the little fox home without permission.”

“You need permission to take someone in?” Red asked, narrowing his eyes disapprovingly. 

“It’s bad form for a shifter to enter another Pack’s territory without permission,” Jason explained. “He didn’t have permission and I took him into Pack housing without asking.”

“He’s a kid. And was kidnapped,” Red pointed out. 

“Yeah, they’re a lot less reasonable than you.”

Red’s expression grew darker and it was suddenly very clear just how human Red was. Jason puffed out a sigh and set down his beer. 

“I get that it’s not rational,” Jason said, picking at the label of his beer bottle. “They know he’s a kid, they know he didn’t have any choice. But it’s all… Instinct, I guess. Our instinct is to keep our own people safe and alive. That instinct drives tradition and regulation so… You can see how we got here.”

Red nodded and looked thoughtful for a long moment as he clutched his beer bottle. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Red said. “B doesn’t like strangers on our home turf either.”

“Batman keeps the riff-raff out of his super secret hideouts?” Jason asked, grinning at Red. 

“It’s more like he only lets his preferred riff-raff in,” Red said, grinning back. 

“I’m surprised he lets any riff-raff in!”

“He has a soft spot for a certain type of riff raff,” Red explained. “Fortunately for me and Signal, we fit the bill.”  

“No offense to you, but Signal does not seem like riff-raff. He seems like he has his shit together,” Jason pointed out. 

Red narrowed his eyes and leaned forward conspiratorially.

“He steals the last Pop-Tarts,” Red said firmly. “Like all the time. And he almost never replaces them. Because he says he doesn’t like Pop-Tarts. But he eats them.”

Jason puffed out a laugh and nodded in sympathy.

“Yeah, I get that. Roy does the same thing but with pudding cups. It’s a battle.”

Red huffed out a laugh. 

“Pudding and Pop Tarts aside,” Red went on, eyes still shining with laughter. “I think I can help you come up with the funds to fix the place. Text me the amount you need and I can help find some grant money.”

“Seriously?” Jason asked, leaning forward and locking eyes with him. “We’re probably talking over twenty-five grand. Bulletproof windows are fucking expensive.”

“Yeah,” Red said, taking another sip of his beer. “I think we can probably swing that.” 

“Wow,” Jason said, eying him interestedly. “That must be nice.”

“I can be helpful,” Red said with a shrug. “And we like being helpful where we can. Especially with the people who need it the most.” 

Red’s cheeks were flushed, either from the beer or the laughter, he was looking thoughtful and relaxed and he smelled…

He smelled so fucking good. Spicy and happy and invested. It made something in Jason’s stomach curl with interest, despite himself. 

It had been a while since Jason had found himself drawn to anyone. He had been so focused on the brownstone, on the kids he and Roy protected, on the clinic and the Pack. There hadn’t been much time left over for Jason and what he wanted. 

And he wanted to spend more time with Red.

His brain said he shouldn’t want to. He didn’t even know the guy’s real name. But his instincts, the wolf just under the surface of his human skin, were crying out for Red. He felt like he could watch him smile for days. He wanted to taste Red while he laughed. He wanted to smell him while he was panting with want. He wanted to hold him close while he slept. 

Swallowing hard, Jason tried to push down those emotions. They weren’t productive or even remotely realistic. Even if he was inclined to make a move on a human, and he wasn’t, Red didn’t seem like the cuddly type. 

Swallowing hard, Jason reached for his beer bottle. He took another swallow as Red watched him carefully. 

He wondered what he saw. 

“You’re serious?” Jason pressed, narrowing his eyes. “About the grant?”

“Oh yeah,” Red said, seeming surprised that Jason was pressing him on the issue. “That shouldn’t be a problem. But…”

“But?”

“You’ll still keep me posted? About the kid I mean? Signal and I are a little invested.”

“Do you two often get invested in poor little orphaned foxes?” Jason teased sharply. 

Red’s expression shuttered for a minute before he nodded.

“Something like that,” he agreed. 

Jason wasn’t sure how to interpret that. 

“Well, if you’re a soft touch, I think I’ll have to keep you on speed dial then,” Jason said, clearing his throat. “A grant for the repairs will only be helpful right up until the next time the clinic is targeted and damaged.”

Red tilted his head to the side in acknowledgment. 

“We’ll keep an eye on the area a lot more closely, now,” Red assured him. “While we won’t be able to protect it all the time, we’ll do our best to mitigate attacks as much as possible. And if we have more data to track down the people who are targeting you and the other shifters, we’ll be able to thin their ranks.”

Jason frowned thoughtfully and wondered…

“Have you spoken to Pack Leadership at all?” Jason asked him quietly. 

Red gave him a level look and nodded slowly.

“We’ve made… overtures… “ Red said haltingly. “We have some connections to them and have offered more formal assistance but…”

“They didn’t want it,” Jason finished for him grimly. 

“I understand that they are not particularly trusting of humans,” Red said. “Which I understand. At the same time… We are good at what we do. And things seem to be getting increasingly more dangerous for your kind.”

“I…” Jason began but hesitated before finishing. “You know I can’t… I can’t go against them. If they tell me not to talk to you…”

Red gave him a wide smile and nudged his beer. 

“What do you mean, Jason?” he asked affably. “You and I are just old drinking buddies. We get together to talk about baseball and whine about how hard it is to be single in Gotham City.”

“You’re single?” Jason found himself asking, despite himself. He fought down the urge to swear to himself as Red grinned at him. 

“Tragically, hopelessly, persistently single,” Red said. “So single that I need to cry into my beer and tell my good friend Jason all about it.” 

“I’m uh… happy to be your shoulder to cry on,” Jason said, trying not to think too hard about the leap of joy in his belly at the news Red wasn’t seeing anyone.

“Good thing you have nice broad shoulders then,” Red teased, nodding at Jason. “To support me and my tears.” 

Jason huffed out a laugh and smiled at Red.

“You can’t actually be tragically single,” he said, taking a pull on his beer. 

“You’d be surprised at how unappealing it is to potential dates when you skip out to… oh I don’t know… rescue errant were-foxes,” Red said with an idle wave of his hand. 

“I think that’s very appealing,” Jason said before he could stop himself.

Red-eyed him thoughtfully before saying, “That puts you in the minority for sure.”

“Some people are very narrow-minded,” Jason said philosophically. 

“Good thing we’re not like that,” Red put in. 

“Good thing,” Jason agreed and he was almost sure Red was blushing.

 They finished their beers. 

Had another

Ate some French fries and then they did talk about baseball and Gotham and books and art and the idiots on the zoning board. They talked about photography and book fairs coming and how pizza made outside of Gotham wasn’t worth anyone’s time.

Red was smart and he was funny and his eyes were the most beautiful things Jason had ever seen. The way he talked, the way he smelled, the way he leaned in to listen when Jason spoke… It all made him almost forget they were different species and he didn’t actually know the guy’s real name.

It had been so long since he felt this kind of connection with another person. Let alone another human. It made something warm bubble in Jason’s stomach as he listened to Red laugh at a lame joke he told.

And before Jason realized it was well past when he meant to leave. They headed to the door together, wrapped up in their coats, faces flushed and laughing as they pushed out into the cool night air of Gotham City. 

They walked to the end of one block and Red abruptly stopped, turning to face Jason with a smile. 

“My train is that way,” he said, gesturing up the block. 

“My house is the other way,” Jason said, gesturing in the opposite direction. 

“Yeah,” Red said softly. “I know. But…” he paused for a second before taking a deep breath as if bracing himself to continue. “You will text me, right?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, an almost elated feeling bursting through him at the shy but determined look on Red’s face. “Yeah, I’ll text you.”

“It doesn’t… It doesn’t need to be about the grant. Or the kid. Or… It can just…”

“It can be about you crying on my shoulder about being tragically single and incensed about idiotic zoning laws?”

“Yeah,” Red said, smiling at him. “Exactly that.” 

He tossed Jason an airy wave and headed off in the direction of his train.

Jason watched him go, scenting the air as he left, the spicy smell of him disappearing into the Gotham night as he vanished down into the station at the end of the block. 

Jason puffed out a sigh and rubbed his face, trying to regain his composure as he walked steadily down the block, back to the brownstone.