no rest for the wicked [jason todd]

forty five

TYE WAS TRYING TO REMEMBER WHAT SHE LEARNED WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE.

She didn't remember who taught her but she remembered the soft cotton of a make-shift blindfold, the gravelly voice telling her to lean her head against the window. "Do you feel that, Tye?" He asked from one seat ahead of her, "the bumping against your head, can you tell me what kind of road you think we're on? How fast we're going? This is important, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. She recognized that term, that voice saying it: it was her uncle, her family friend-- Wade? Made, something like that. She couldn't remember who he was but she knew the situation, remembered it echoing in her ears. "A regular road," her childhood self had answered, one little hand pressed against the chilly glass of the window. "It's not as bumpy as a dirt road, Uncle S."

"Fast," he'd said, "how fast are we going?"

She'd whined, she'd shifted and complained and said 'How am I supposed to know? The speed limit?'

Now, she was using that old technique, a harsh blindfold covering her eyes and her head against the bottom of a van. No one else was around her, she'd flailed her limbs enough to check the space, and now she was just trying to see what kind of road they were on. It was dirt, so it was more likely if she escaped, she'd be running a long time without another car. She could get shot, killed, electrocuted with that stupid collar she couldn't get off.

Okay, so maybe that was the first plan. She rolled onto her back, shifting and trying to get her hands out of the ropes they were in. Dick would have been better at this, God, he always was. She could hear Jason's teasing voice softly somewhere in her head, and the idea of getting back home to him fueled her like nothing else. If she got home, she could hear his stupid teasing voice any time she wanted, and that made her feel better than anything else.

She was going to go home to open arms and that smile that reminded her of homemade cookies and love. She was going to make it back to him.

She tried to think of something she might have had, but they took things from her. She shifted her head and rubbed her forehead against her forearm until she slid the blindfold up, looking around. Her eyes weren't adjusted to the dark light in the van and she had to wait for a little before she looked around. There was a hook for clothing near the door, maybe she could try to use that. She pushed herself against the wall of the van, sliding up to her feet.

They were tied together too. She used her wrist ties and slipped the hook between them, tugging them. When they finally came off, she grabbed the rope with her hands and then waited a moment. Then, she bent down to untie her legs, pulling at the rope.

She needed to get the remote from the guy in the front of the van without arousing suspicion in case there were vans following them or ahead of them. She searched and found a little covered place in the van, punching her hand against it like her hands were still tied together, blinking her eyes tiredly. "I need some water," she called weakly, "please."

The compartment opened and a hand offered back a water bottle. Now, she reached for his wrist and pulled him toward the opening loudly, pulling her fist back and knocking him in the face. The man cursed and tried to swerve the van but she reached through the compartment, knocked his head into the steering wheel and then leaned out to try and control the van.

She grabbed it and then swerved to the side, watching out the window as they smashed into a tree.

She was knocked back and slammed her head against the ground but managed to stand to her feet and lean through the compartment to grab keys off his jacket, unlocking the van door. When she finally got out, she nearly stepped right into a pistol that was pointed right at her. "You're an idiot," the man growled, grabbing her by her hair and yanking her from the van. He pulled her back to one of the other vans and shoved her in. "Someone call Black Mask, she's apparently gonna cause us some trouble."

All of a sudden, she felt the shocks of the collar and screamed out, her hands reaching up to pull at it. Tears were gathering in her eyes and as she looked up at one of the men that stepped in the truck, her expression turned a little softer.

She felt like she knew those green eyes.

She felt like she knew those sharp green eyes well, actually, as a friend. She couldn't name it, and that was until the doors were pushed shut and the man took off his helmet.

He shook out messy ginger hair, reached a hand out and set down a tiny toolkit. "Hey," he said quietly, fiddling with the collar. "Be careful, okay? I'm gonna try and see if I can get this off of you, or at least disable it so we can escape without it getting in the way." He cursed quietly as he worked, offering out, "You're an idiot. Glad you and Jason compliment each other that way."

"R... Roy?" She asked weakly, touching his arm. He smiled softly and twisted a little screwdriver. "Roy, where are we? I just... Remember waking up. How long have I been gone?"

"Four days? Maybe five," he said quietly. "Slade and Dick were trying to find you but you ended up crossing where I was working a case -- We're not even in the same state as Gotham anymore, you're a long way from home, Tye." He twisted the screwdriver and the collar came off now, falling to the side and clattering against the ground. "Jason's angry as shit -- and scared, too."

"Where is he?" She asked quietly, her voice coming out raspy. She had other questions -- Who was Slade? Where was she? What did they want with her? -- but honestly, she just wanted to see Jason right now.

Roy's lips twitched into a frown. "Let's talk about that later, Tye. Let's just bust you out."

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