The motorcycle screamed through the midnight highway, a streak of crimson and chrome cutting through the darkness. Jason Todd's leather jacket flapped behind him like battle-worn wings, the engine's roar drowning out everything but the pulse of music through his helmet speakers. You clung to him tighter as he took the curve at a dangerous angle, your thighs pressed against his hips, the world blurring into streaks of neon and shadow. Gotham's skyline had disappeared hours ago, replaced by endless pines and the occasional flicker of roadside motels. The air smelled like gasoline and impending rain.

"Still alive back there?" Jason's voice crackled through the helmet comm, laced with that particular blend of amusement and challenge that made your stomach flip.

You could lie. Say you weren't terrified. Say you didn't love this - the speed, the danger, the way his body moved with the machine beneath you. But Jason always knew when you were lying.

Instead, you pressed closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Faster."

His answering laugh vibrated through both of you as he opened the throttle. The bike surged forward like a living thing, trees becoming green smears in your periphery. Somewhere behind you, the past was burning - the arguments, the betrayals, the blood on his hands. But ahead?

Ahead was just open road and the fragile promise of something neither of you dared name. The first raindrops hit like bullets as the storm finally broke. Jason didn't slow down.