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silverwhittlingknife · 1 year

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snippet: Cass and Jason, guns and targets

Setting: Jason's in his villain era. They're in a warehouse and Jason's challenged her to a marksmanship contest with guns.

Cass's heart raced. She would have to be perfect, on every single shot. She had to be, so she would be. But the gun felt strange and angry in her hand.

Jason was smirking, like he could see her uncertainty. I could throw you against the wall, she wanted to say.

He was letting his weight rest casually against the warehouse wall, smug the way most big men were around her, assuming she wasn't a threat. He wasn't a complete fool - she'd seen him mark the way she moved, light on her feet, and he was staying out of the reach of a kick. But he wouldn't be counting on her speed. She could close the gap between them in a second.

She didn't have to go along with the shooting game. She could toss the gun aside and pick a real fight instead.

There would be a risk. There was always a risk, with big men, because they had muscle and mass. And he was armored and she wasn't, and the warehouse was his, which meant there might be other dangers lurking in the dark. But she thought she would win. She would have her hands and her strength and her speed and the element of surprise. She'd done more with less. He was trained by Batman and by the League and by others, she could see all of them in the way he moved, but Cass had fought Shiva. She was not afraid of Jason Todd.

And part of her wanted a real fight, desperately, to test her strength against his and emerge victorious, to humiliate him if she could.

But in a real fight, she'd risk killing him or dying herself, and she couldn't choose to risk either, not if she had another option. Against Shiva, she'd been willing to die. She didn't regret it. But she could not die in a fight now, not here, not against this man. It would hurt Barbara too much.

It stung, to force herself to judge the odds, instead of just fighting, the way she was meant for. But Barbara had said, You have to think, Cass, pain in her voice. This was important to Barbara - Jason was - and things which were important to Barbara were too important to risk on pride. That was why Cass had agreed to the shooting match in the first place.

Safe. Barbara would want her to be safe.

Barbara would not approve of Cass being here. But that was a problem for another day.

They had agreed to shoot three times from a distance of thirty paces. She would have to hit nearer the target's center than Jason, two out of three times.

"Can I ..." Not train. What was the word. "Practice. Can I practice first."

"That's not the deal," Jason said.

Hmm. Jason was not stupid. Another bad sign. Cass liked it better when they were stupid. A big man, and clever. And not proud. He'd picked his weapon for the contest, the one he was best at, instead of taunting and letting her pick. He wanted to win, not to play.

So why had he agreed to play at all? She tried to read him, but it was no good. Angrytensewary, not about to attack but not unprepared either, his eyes kept flickering up to see if there was an ambush. Nothing useful. Nothing to answer: why a contest, instead of calling his men to fight her.

She wanted Tim. Trying to understand Jason was a headache. She didn't want to. Tim and Barbara liked answers. Tim would've had an answer, or two answers, or three answers, why Jason didn't want to kill her. Barbara would've had just one answer, and it would be the right answer, but Barbara would be angry that Cass didn't want to think. So Tim was better. Tim liked answers so much that he went looking for them even when he didn't have to.

But Tim was injured. No answers, not with a bullet wound. Cass had to do her own thinking. For now. Maybe forever.

Maybe that was why Jason had chosen guns. To remind her about Tim. A threat, not a contest.

She was aware that she was very, very angry.

The anger would've helped in a martial arts fight. It would not help with the gun. Anger made you sloppy. Sloppy made you lose.

"Get on with it," Jason said. "Batman says...patience is a virtue."

"Batman doesn't know shit." His voice was a growl. His body: angryangryangry. Two angry people. She wanted to burn him with her anger. "I don't have all night."

She had not aimed a gun for a very long time. It was both easier and more difficult than she wanted it to be. She frowned at the targets. They were not the kind she'd practiced with.

"Come on," Jason said.

"Shut up," Cass said. "Maybe I will shoot you."

Jason grinned. He had blood on his teeth. His body sang: angryjoyanger. "Go ahead and try it. You think you're fast enough?"

She was fast enough. She could picture it, with a blazing sort of triumph. Aiming the gun at his heart. His armor was good, but not that good, not when they were only a few paces apart. "I'd kill you."

She wouldn't, she wouldn't. Oh, but she wanted to.

"You sure would," Jason said, with a mean smile, and his body still sang anger and joy. Why joy? "But you're one of his, aren't you, little girl? So you're not gonna shoot me. You're too cowardly. You're gonna play my little game, and you're gonna lose, because the game's rigged - oh, not your gun, don't give me that look, it's a good gun, but these are my guns. I don't care how fucking good you think you are, you're not gonna out-shoot me on the first try with my own guns. So you're gonna lose, and you're gonna fuck off, like we agreed, and then tomorrow I'll grab your other little friend and put a bullet in her, and -"

Aim, trigger, fire.

Cass shot him in the wrist, the gun-hand. He went down. She leapt.

The skirmish was not pretty - he was fast, faster than she'd expected, and she'd lose the tooth - but she'd been right that he was not prepared for a real fight. The element of surprise: a better weapon than the blade. She got the handcuffs around his wrists and then the fight was won, or good enough. Too risky to take her hands off him, and too risky to shoot him again, so she kicked both guns away.

"What the fuck," he spluttered, staring at the handcuffs. They were digging into the wound, and Cass was reluctantly impressed. He must be in agony, but he had excellent pain control. "What in the - the fucking hell - you shot me!"

"Yes," Cass said. "A good idea. You said so."

He'd been right. The contest was no good. He'd have won, and she had no time for that. This was better.

Why was he so surprised?

Jason stared at her. She braced for another attack - he might get free yet - but instead he started laughing, high and wild. She couldn't read his body. It was so strange, so strange, she would have called him a wild thing instead of a man.

Too risky to put anything in her hands - he might fight back still, if the frenzied laughter turned violent - so instead she tapped open her communicator with her shoulder.

" -zzt- Cass," said Barbara. She sounded frightened. Cass felt bad. "Cass. Where the hell are you."

"Safe," Cass said. "I..."

I defeated Jason, she wanted to say, but it was not really true. Not a true fight, not yet, maybe not ever. Too bad. She still thought she'd win that way, too. But it was always a little sad when you couldn't find out. Oh well. Maybe another time.

Still. She'd done what she came to do, if not in the way she'd planned to do it. Spontaneity was also a virtue. Batman did not say that, and neither did Barbara. But spontaneity was a very important virtue, Cass thought. She smiled.

"Cassandra Cain," Barbara said, "if you don't give me an address in the next two seconds -"

"I have him. Your Jason. You wanted ..." What did Barbara want. Cass was not sure. And words were boring. It was a familiar frustration, these useless words. "You want to talk to him. So. I have him. Come."

She gave the address.

Barbara started saying other things, so Cass cut off the communicator. She'd given the message. Now, she just had to wait. Jason had stopped laughing.

"Who the fuck was that," he said. "That's not Bruce."

So his hearing was very good too. Good enough to catch the high pitches of a woman's voice. Not good enough to identify her. And maybe a little slow. Who would it be, if not Barbara?

"Oracle," Cass said. "She wants ... to talk to you."

"Who? I thought..." Jason frowned at her chest as if it confused him. "I thought you were a Bat. Who the fuck is Oracle?"

Cass grinned at him. She knew her teeth were bloody now, too. Anger and joy. Maybe she could understand Jason a little. "You'll see."

#cassandra cain #jason todd #my fic #okay so this isn't really a fic or even a snippet; it's more of a writing exercise #but i have written it so here it is sdfsdf #cass and jason fight <3

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writtenjewels · 5 months

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Summer part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Salim cleaned the tables after the morning rush, his eyes darting to the clock. His heart beat a little faster when he noted the time and he picked up the pace on his cleaning. He should have enough time to get a smoothie ready before Jason arrived. So far the farmer came by every day just before lunch rush. It was Salim's favorite time of day.

He imagined it was very hard work to run a farm. Jason never complained about it, of course, but how could it not be? Salim was happy that Jason took a break; selfishly, he was happier still that those breaks were in Salim's cafe. Salim liked all of the townspeople, but he felt a connection with Jason and looked forward to the farmer's visits. If Jason kept to his usual schedule, he would be coming by the cafe in the next few minutes.

Sure enough, the door opened and Jason stepped inside. He wore a faded cap on his head as always and had his hands behind his back. A smile was playing across his face. Salim found his own lips moving up to match. He loved how Jason's face transformed when he smiled: how his features softened, making him look younger, while crow's feet crinkled at the corners of his eyes to define his age. It was a charming contrast.

“Hey,” Jason greeted. “I brought somethin' for ya.”

“Oh?” Salim's smile turned a little shy. Jason was always bringing him things. “You didn't have to do that.”

“I know, but I figured an amateur gardener should have some plants around.” Jason moved his hands to show he was holding potted flowers. Salim's heart skipped and his face felt warm. The reaction was ridiculous, of course. Salim shook it off and moved to take the flowers. “They're daylilies,” Jason explained. “They're pretty easy to take care of, which I figured would be good for a busy cafe.”

“That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Jason.” Salim leaned in to smell the flower. The action brought their faces closer, but as always that pesky hat shadowed Jason's features. He sighed and reached for the pot. “Will you help me find a spot for these?”

“Sure.” Maybe it was Salim's hopeful imagination, but the way Jason lit up made it seem like he'd been waiting for Salim to ask. Jason fell into step next to Salim and the two went around the cafe judging places for the flowers. They needed a spot with sunlight while staying out of the way of customers.

“The mayor told me about a potluck the town puts together,” Salim mentioned.

“I heard about that, too,” Jason nodded. He gave Salim a friendly shoulder bump. “You should bring somethin'. It'll be fun.”

“Are you going to bring something, then?”

“Yep.” Jason caught his gaze, the farmer's dark eyes glittering with teasing. “A hungry belly.” Salim laughed appreciatively and Jason's smile grew. Salim almost forgot about the flowers, until the pot's weight in his hands reminded him. He reluctantly broke their gaze.

He finally found a spot that they both deemed suitable for the flowers. To Salim's dismay, he realized that it was almost time for the lunch rush to start. That meant Jason would be going back to his farm. The visit wasn't nearly long enough.

“You haven't eaten lunch yet,” Salim pointed out. “Sit down and I'll make you something.”

“You don't gotta,” Jason protested. Salim smiled: the words were an echo to his own.

“I know,” he said, answering the same way Jason had done. I want you to stay with me a while longer, he added in his heart. He hurried into the back to make one of Jason's favorites.

He emerged later with the food and a smoothie to drink. Salim's heart skipped when he noticed Jason watching him. It was so hard to judge the younger man's expression due to the cap brim shadowing his face, but it almost seemed like it was Salim he was interested in and not the food.

#house of ashes #jason kolchek #salim othman #jason/salim #jalim #jason x salim #jason kolchek x salim othman

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masterwords · 3 years

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My Cup is Empty (Part One)

Notes: Part One of a two part re-imagining of the aftermath of Adrian Bale's bombing. (Season 1) This is only loosely based on explanations from the show, I just reinvented an entire timeline no big deal. If the CM writers can do it, so can I. (Title & lyrics from Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds "My Cup is Empty".)

Warnings: Anxiety, depression, PTSD

Word Count: 2161

Look, this cup of mine is empty!

Seems I've misplaced my desires

Seems I'm sweeping up the ashes

Of all my former fires

“Yours isn't the only team affected by Jason Gideon's mismanagement of the Adrian Bale negotiation, Agent Hotchner.”

Erin Strauss narrowed her eyes at Aaron as she sat across from him, hands folded neatly atop a case file on her desk. He counted his breaths, tried to ignore the rushing of the blood behind his ears, the way his heart thundered against his rib cage like a hammer. For a minute, he thought he'd forgotten how to breathe and his eyesight swam dangerously. It hadn't been Jason doing the negotiation, Aaron knew that and yet Jason had taken all of the blame, all of the finger pointing, he wouldn't let Aaron take the fall for bad advice or missed cues. Sure, Jason made the final call, he decided whether or not to listen to Aaron's advice, but at the end of the day, Aaron held himself responsible. When Jason turned off his ear piece, ignored Aaron's warnings not to trust Bale yet, he thought about going out there, pleading face to face with Jason. The only thing holding him back was honor, Jason had given him a direct order to stay back, stay out of sight, keep Spencer out of the way. JJ was dealing with the press at a safe distance, none of them would be hurt, and that was on him. Jason accepted the responsibility for the scene, the way it went down, his actions. He'd been yelling for Derek, he wanted Derek there but something in Aaron's gut told him no, told him to keep Derek away just a little longer. Jason had the bomb squad, he had SWAT, he didn't need Derek too. In the end, as he reasoned, the only good thing he had managed to accomplish that day was tying Derek up on the other side of town long enough that he hadn't wound up inside that building with the rest of them, disobeying direct orders to get him there. He closed his eyes, thought about the way Derek had stormed to the van he was standing behind, spitting fire and rage because he knew bombs and, more importantly, bombers and he should have been in there and not outside with the desk jockeys. Derek loved to throw around cop slang, and usually it made Aaron laugh, but not this time. He was hurt, he wanted to explain himself but there wasn't time. When the bomb went off and Derek was beside him, behind the doors of the van being showered in molten shrapnel and hot blasts of shattered glass, he no longer minded being called a desk jockey. They crouched back there, each attempting to shield the other from harm, hearts thundering and fear coursing through their veins. Moments, it was sheer moments that filled the space between Derek living and dying and he had no idea how to even talk to Derek about that. He could see the other man's resentment, his pain, every time he looked at him though. In that brief moment, picking glass out of their skin while they sat on the ground, the scene erupting into absolute chaos around them, unable to hear for the ringing in their ears, they stared at each other and Aaron pleaded silently for Derek's forgiveness, his understanding but all Derek knew was that there were people who had died and he should have been one of them.

“You'll make do with the three of you, for now. I'll try to lighten your out of town load but that's as much as I can offer. Might I remind you, this is what you wanted, Agent Hotchner – it may not look the way you imagined, but you'll soon find that reality often falls short of our expectations. This may be your only opportunity.”

Aaron blinked himself back to reality, forced his eyes to focus on Chief Strauss seated before him, tried to remember why it was he was sitting in her office. His head felt wrong, like he was on the verge of an anxiety attack but somehow different and unnerving. He hated different, wouldn't allow it. He didn't have time for his body's needs.

Help, he'd asked for help, for their caseload to be dispersed some, for them to be let off the hook for lectures, deadline extensions, anything to ease the burden they were feeling. His team had just experienced trauma, the shrapnel wounds on his arms from throwing them over his head during the blast hadn't even healed yet and they were drowning.

She was too hard on him, she knew it right away. Agent Reid was still training, realistically it was just Agents Hotchner and Morgan shouldering the load, but she couldn't worry about that, they weren't the only ones hurting. There was a crushing look of defeat that flashed through his eyes, she saw it, but as soon as it appeared it vanished and she watched the way the soft around the edges young Agent who always had a kind word for someone in need squared his shoulders and nodded, pursing his lips and she wondered, briefly, if she hadn't just ruined him. Destroyed every golden bit of youth still left, every smile – maybe she should have been a little more gentle with him. He hadn't wanted this, not this way, she knew that – he was still learning, Jason was still mentoring him and this was too soon but there were no other options, she was just as stuck as he was and it would do neither of them any good for her to sugar coat it. This was a sink or swim moment and she'd be damned if he was going to get by just treading water. He was going to swim. She opened her mouth to say something encouraging, to soften the blow, and she started to speak when he stood and excused himself quickly, averting his eyes. Somehow she knew that the man who entered her office and then man who left it were both moments and worlds apart and they may never see the former again. The thought filled her with immense regret.

She prayed that she was wrong.

Days turned into weeks. Aaron almost never made it home before midnight, a point of contention in his already unraveling marriage. There were moments, quick flashes, where he thought he might come home to find himself locked out, or all of his belongings strewn on the front lawn like a movie breakup scene. Except he was no John Cusack and he would not be able to flash a sweet smile and work his way back in, not a man like him. Haley was pregnant, she was angry, and he couldn't blame her – she was alone, utterly alone when she thought he'd be with her. Doctors appointments, ultrasounds, baby kicks, birthing classes, shopping, nursery decoration, maternity photos...he was missing it all buried beneath an unrelenting load at his desk, endless meetings, networking, conferences and trial prep. When he did come home at night he was beat, useless. She would have dinner for him and he couldn't seem to make himself eat more than a few bites, she would try to tell him about her day and he would try to listen but at a certain point he would retreat to his office and cry, sometimes go to bed without even being able to look her in the eye. This is what you wanted, Agent Hotchner. The words haunted him. In all aspects of his life, the things he'd wanted were crushing him. He'd wanted a promotion, but not like this. He'd wanted to be married, have a family, but not like this. None of it was ever supposed to be like this, and yet he wondered why he'd dared dream it would be any different. Why he thought he deserved better.

At work, he was faced with Derek's worsening attitude toward everyone and everything. He would come into Aaron's office, asking to talk, but just wind up lashing out, biting his head off over something seemingly small or insignificant. He would fly off the handle over something someone had said to him, police who didn't listen to his recommendations when he consulted with them, the order JJ put papers inside of the folders or the way Spencer got coffee rings on his papers sometimes. Even Garcia, who had always managed to make him smile, just found herself keeping her distance. Everything was setting him off and Aaron could see it for what it was, he knew the symptoms of PTSD as well as anyone, yet he ignored it because if he didn't...God, if he didn't, he'd lose Derek too. And he beat himself up over it, over sweeping it under the rug and hoping it would just disappear - he knew it was just going to get worse. Derek was a ticking time bomb, and Aaron's only hope was that when he exploded, he would take them both down because he couldn't be left without him.

“Aaron, you can't keep going on like this.” Haley's voice was soft, and though the lights in the bedroom were off and he was curled beneath the blankets, she knew he was awake. He made no move to respond. He remained silent, stifled his breathing in the hopes that she would go away, leave him alone. Instead she slipped into the blankets and pressed her swelling belly, brimming with life, against him. She draped one arm over him, startling him briefly with a cold hand slipping beneath his shirt and resting against his ribs.

“What else can I do?” he whispered, and she couldn't help it, she laughed. She didn't mean to.

“You could just leave. Go back to being a prosecutor, start your own practice like your dad did...you know you'd do just fine and we could have a good life. You don't owe them anything, and the way they're treating you...”

“They aren't treating me,” he began, sucking in a deep breath, stifling the venom lacing his thoughts. He couldn't finish his sentence without regret. She was baiting him, bringing up his father, and he wouldn't take it. He was barely in control of any aspect of his life but he would not let his father in, dictate the course of his life from the grave. “I'm not leaving my team.”

“Your team? You don't have a team anymore...they all left. Max, Dave, Gideon...all gone. It's just you and Morgan and that new kid. That isn't a team, it's a bunch of children playing cops and robbers.” She hadn't bothered biting back her venom, he thought, and wondered why he had. This argument had been just beneath the surface, a long time coming, but he was too exhausted to continue. Instead, he carefully pulled her hand out from beneath his shirt and slid out of the bed, making for the bathroom. He would shower and dress and go back to work because at least no one questioned his motives there - sanity, perhaps, but never his motives. No one would bother him at all at 11pm, except maybe security but by now they were used to his always being there. In Jason's absence, he'd become a staple, a gargoyle seated above the bullpen, peering out in the darkness, tired features set in stone.

“If you leave,” she called after him, but he turned briefly toward her, knitting his brow in a scowl. She thought he looked sweet, in his rumpled pajamas and his bed head, except for the look on his face. She felt guilty for picking a fight, wondered why she had, but pregnancy hormones were a helluva drug and she felt justified.

“Haley, you're going to do what you want whether I go or not. Don't bother with ultimatums, it's beneath you.”

Next Chapter ->

She glared at him, watched as he retreated to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Inside she knew he was going to crash and burn, she would sit for a moment and listen to him as his body shut down, threw him into the hurricane winds of an anxiety attack, and her fingers twitched, aching to go soothe his hurt and make him feel better but instead she threw the covers back and stormed down to the kitchen, to have herself some ice cream and do some thinking.

If she couldn't have ice cream in the middle of the night, what even was the point. She knew he was right, she didn't need the ultimatums, and she wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. This was just a rough patch, they could weather it, but maybe she would take some time away, take a break and go visit her family and let Aaron circle the drain. She didn't need to watch her husband unravel.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #haley hotchner #erin strauss

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writtenjewels · 5 months

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Partner part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Jason leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting impatiently for Salim to wake up. Jason wasn't a morning person by nature, but he'd been too restless to sleep last night. The knowledge that Salim would get up soon was all that kept Jason from pacing the space.

It was only his second day here and Jason was nearly crawling up the walls. He needed something to do. Salim probably thought he was doing Jason a favor by giving him so much free rein; what Jason would prefer was some sort of direction. Today promised to be a good start.

Salim finally got out of bed. He padded around his room—Jason was quick to look away when the man started to dress—and then made his way over to Jason's room. He looked a little startled to see Jason already awake and waiting for him.

“Good morning.”

“Hey,” Jason nodded back. “You ever try grits?”

“I'm not sure what that is,” Salim admitted. His eyes darted curiously over Jason. “You already dressed and bathed?”

“Uh, yeah.” He actually showered, and he did it late last night. Jason hoped the hot water would relax him enough to sleep, but it somehow had the opposite effect. As for the clothes, they were brought in from his house by Salim's servants. The plain shirts and trousers were more Jason's style than the fancy stuff available in the palace.

“So what are grits?” Salim prompted him. “Is it the 'weird shit' you promised?”

“You shouldn't sound so excited to eat weird shit,” Jason teased him. Salim responded with a smile. The guy really looked nice when he smiled. Jason let out a cough to cut through the awkward feeling building inside him. “Grits are ground corn in milk,” he explained.

“That doesn't sound too weird,” Salim decided. “It'll at least be less messy than the Sloppy Joes.” His eyes twinkled in a clear hint he was teasing. Jason had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. “Have you decided what you want to do today?” Salim asked, gesturing for Jason to sit with him.

“I figured I'd keep ya company.” Jason spoke the words casually, punctuating with a shrug. Salim's eyes brightened and his smile grew wide. Jason's lips twitched up to match.

“We'll be holding hands when we're out,” Salim reminded him. He took Jason's hand as demonstration. The grip was unexpectedly strong and calloused. Salim leaned forward, the teasing gleam returning to his eyes. “But don't worry: I won't cuddle you. I have to draw the line somewhere.” Jason let out a soft snort and gently pushed the man away.

The two chatted as they ate breakfast. Jason found he liked talking to Salim and kept trying to say things that would make the other man smile. Salim, in turn, peppered their conversation with stupid jokes.

Jason almost didn't want the moment to end. But neither did he want to stay cooped up in the palace all day, so once the meal was cleared away he followed Salim into town. The moment they were outside, Salim clasped Jason's hand. Their fingers threaded together and Salim squeezed. The last time Jason held hands with anyone, he was probably seven or eight. It was a little odd doing it now.

The two of them went around like that all day. Jason mostly stayed quiet, watching Salim interact with the people. Inevitably someone would ask, “Who is this?” Salim squeezed Jason's hand every time and smiled. “My new life partner,” he answered. It was weird the first few times, but eventually Jason got used to it.

And he got used to feeling Salim's hand. Everyone they came across thought it was a sign of intimacy, but to Jason it felt like something else. It was comfort, assurance, security. He gave Salim's hand gentle little tugs and squeezes whenever the man needed a boost. I'm here, he said with every squeeze of his hand. Salim shot him a quick look and the smile returned to his face.

It was late when they finally returned to the palace. Salim lifted Jason's hand but seemed to second-guess whatever he intended to do, and let it drop.

“That wasn't too bad, I hope?” Something about that phrasing bothered Jason.

“It was okay.”

“I won't ask you to do that often, I promise.”

“I said it was okay,” Jason snapped, the words coming out harsh.

“All right.” Some emotion flickered on Salim's face but he turned his head before Jason could understand it. “I'm going to spend some time in the garden,” Salim announced. “Have a good night.”

“Okay.” Jason didn't know what else to say. His emotions were in a confused jumble. He tried to shake himself out of it. He was only here to get away from his shitty life; he only stayed so Salim wouldn't be bothered by the matchmaker anymore. There was nothing more to it.

So why did he feel so empty now that Salim's hand was no longer holding his?

#house of ashes #jason kolchek #salim othman #jason/salim #jalim #jason x salim #jason kolchek x salim othman

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