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Chapter Text

The night Jason escaped Batman was legendary. He often heard that no criminals had ever escaped Batman (the amount of truth to it was irrelevant). Jason would probably be a legend for the years to come.

That's what he was thinking as he watched  Batman from his hiding spot in a wall crack. He was replacing the lost Batmobile tire with the spare one, having given up after almost an hour of searching. Apparently, the tires didn't have trackers or anything similar, so Batman wasn't able to locate it where Jason had hidden it. Then Batman left, and Jason counted a few minutes to come out.

Jason had experience with these things. He had been stealing tires for years. Even if the batmobile’s were a bit tricky, they weren't a challenge for him. It was unfortunate that he could only take one before he heard Batman approaching, but getting 40, maybe even 50 dollars for it would get him food in his stomach for a couple days.

He hauled the tire to his pulling cart and took off, heading deeper into the neighborhood, which was strangely active at night, with many businesses still open. 

This was Batman's tire, it must cost a fortune, right? The batmobile looked expensive, so the tire must be too. 

What a disappointment.

“Kid, are you crazy?” Ed, the mechanic, told Jason when he saw the tire. “You know I always buy from you, but I'm not going to buy that. I don't want Batman on my back.”

It was a shame, but there were other shops he could sell it to, right?

They were all a chorus of. “Hell no”s and “how the fuck did you even do that”, but not a single penny for his hard work.

Jason cursed them silently as he walked back to his run down apartment. He sighed. The curses really didn't matter when, at the end of the day, he was the one left hungry.

[...]

Batman was having one of the weirdest days of his life. The truth is that he’d never had a tire stolen before, both as Bruce and Batman. His melancholy of visiting his parents’ place of death in the same very night had been radically interrupted by a kid in the process of taking the second one of his tires and a crowbar to the stomach, (not with enough force to cause harm but enough to knock the air out of his lungs). The first tire was nowhere to be found as well as the kid, only a flash of black hair, pale skin and blue eyes running away. 

He’d have to look around the alley. He'd be able to track it down more easily by looking at the workshops, but it would have to be another day.

[...]

Tim had been following Batman for around a year now. He had thousands of photos of Batman and Robin at this point, and not only pictures.

Batman and Robin usually retrieved all Batarangs as possible, but one night, they had missed one, which had landed just in front of Tim’s hiding spot. It would be a waste if nobody took it, right? So he took it with him. That's how it started.

The story was repeated with birdarangs. Against his better judgment, he picked up every kind he could find like they were pokemon cards: the halves that were left of explosive ones, magnetic ones, minibatarangs, every new design, except, of course, the ones with trackers.

He hadn't expected this habit to become a whole collection. Every time he came across something Batman or Robin related, he itched to have it. He bought multiple posters that featured the Flying Graysons to put on his wall. He cut out articles about Bruce Wayne and Batman alike from newspapers that he kept carefully in a binder. He had even rescued a can of bat-shark repellent from a time when Riddler had tried to drop Batman into a pool of sharks in the middle of Gotham’s park. Tim had gotten great shots of Batman escaping his bindings that night.

One night, he had followed Batman into Crime Alley. He had been there a few nights already and wasn't too worried about being there as long as he had his camera hidden. Once again, Robin wasn't there. He hadn't been for a couple of months, and Batman… Well, he didn't seem to be balanced anymore. Batman seemed way more melancholic, proved by the way he visited the alley where his parents died just to look around and sulk, alone, in silence.

Then he left to stop a couple of violent muggings and returned. Tim followed close behind, and he was just as surprised as Batman when he saw the Batmobile lacking a tire, with a kid already working on removing the second one. Tim's eyes went as wide as saucers when he saw that same kid slamming a crowbar on Batman’s stomach and running away.

The audacity of this kid , Tim thought, clicking his tongue. Still, he had to admit the kid had been intelligent enough to hide the tire from Batman in a way he couldn't find it at all. Not even he could guess where it was. It was, by much, the most bizarre experience he'd seen in patrol, and he'd seen a lot of things.

It was until days after, when his mission had brought him to Crime Alley again, that he obtained relevant information about that particular case. He was walking through the streets, trying to look the least suspicious as possible as he tracked Batman’s movement on the rooftops. 

It was a busy night, he couldn't walk straight without bumping shoulders with someone. He hoped the way that he dodged people, trying to not even graze anyone else, didn't give him away. His eyes followed every colorful sign and neon light, and his ears were picking fragments of conversations as he walked by. He couldn't help it. So far, he picked up the fact that someone's neighbor’s daughter was pregnant, that someone is writing a book but it's hard to while having so many work hours, someone is learning to bake, someone recently tried to sell a tire from the famous Batmobile at that shop-

Wait a second. 

“Yeah, you know that boy that’s always selling tires?” Tim had heard. “Two days ago he came with a tire from the Bat-mobile! As in Bat-man! Who the hell was I supposed to sell that to?”

That caused Tim to stop on his tracks. It had to be it, right? If it was genuine and not some bluffer, then he was interested.

The night wasn't going anywhere anyways. Same muggings and attempted murders. He had a lot of material of that already. He could sacrifice that night In favor of something new.

Tim approached the two people talking in front of a rundown garage. It was one of the nicer ones, since this one at least had a sign and a proper light bulb.

“Sorry, did you say something about the Batmobile?” He asked respectfully, looking up at the two men. They were a bit weirded out by being approached like that, but they'd seen worse than a 10 year old unaccompanied at 10 p.m.

“Yeah,” the guy said. “S’just a tire that's going around. I'm not even sure it's real.” He shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

“I want to buy it.”

The two let out a bark of laughter at Tim’s statement.

“Sure you do, kid,” the guy said. “Building your own Batmobile?” It wasn't a serious question. He didn't have the time to question the motivations of a random child.

»”Look, I don't have it. I don't want to get beaten up just because that tire passed by my hands,” he said. “But go with Ed. He always buys every piece of scrap he gets his hands on, and if he doesn't have it, he sure knows where it is.”

So, after going around for a while to find the shop, he encountered the Ed at one of the smallest, dirtiest mechanic workshops he's ever seen in his entire life. The so-called owner was distracted, tinkering with some car piece, and flinched when Tim spoke to him. He hadn't noticed the tiny boy walking up behind him with inaudible steps, even when Tim hadn't tried to hide at all.

“Hey, sir-”

"Jesucristo en moto!" Ed’s hand was already on his belt, ready to grab his utility knife and fend off any possible burglars. He was even more surprised to see a kid with paper white skin standing behind him. He thought it was a ghost.

»”Madre de dios…” He muttered between gritted teeth. “What are you doing here, kid? It's late.” He was looking at Tim with uneasiness, like he still wasn't fully convinced that Tim was not a ghost. 

“Do you have the Batmobile tire?” Tim asked, going straight to the point.

Ed sighed and rubbed his face, smudging a bit of grease on his face. “No, I don't have it.” 

Tim deflated, his mood dropping in a second. Ed sighed when he saw that.

“What do you want it for, kid?” He asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Well…” Tim wasn't sure what explanation to give. “... I'm building my own Batmobile.”

«A little Batman fan…» Ed thought. 

“Look,” he said. “I don't have it but I know the guy that does. I'm not sure if he wants to be found, though."

"That's what I've heard," Tim said. "Nobody wants it."

"That's right." The mechanic nodded. "But come by tomorrow at this hour,” he said. “I'll have an answer for you by then.”

Tim nodded enthusiastically. It looked like everything would be going swiftly. 

“Just one thing,” Ed added. Tim listened closely. “No snitching about this to Batman.”

Tim put his best business face, one he'd learned from his father and looked a bit weird on a 10 year old. “Sir, nobody will know of this.”

[...]

It was one of the quiet, lonely nights for Jason. Just the day before he had sold a couple tires and gotten himself enough money to afford an actual sandwich. Ham, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, not just a paper-thin piece of cheese between two slices of bread like he usually had at home.

He was an expert in navigating the streets, putting up his rabid child face to avoid being picked on. Beware, don’t get too close, or he might bite. There was just one person that didn't believe that to be real, and he was standing by the corner of Jason’s building.

When Ed saw that Jason was approaching, he put out his cigarette against the wall of the building. Jason appreciated the gesture, but he had been exposed to cigarette smoke before. He was 12, goddamnit. He wasn't a damn baby you had to put out your cigarettes around. 

“D’you close early today?” Jason asked. 

“Yeah. Slow night,” Ed said with a nod. “Hey, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Jason stopped and took a bite of his sandwich. Delicious.

“You see…” Ed grinned, like he was just reminded of a hilarious joke. “A kid stopped by my shop earlier. Must be like eight or nine. He wants to buy the Bat-tire.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at that. “He wants to what? Why?”

Ed shrugged. “What would I know? That's not the important part.” The mechanic shook his head. “That kid was rich, no doubt.”

»”He has such a Bristol accent that he can't deal with it,” Ed told him. “And is trying to go under the radar around here with a North Face jacket.”

Ed’s expression said everything he was thinking, and Jason saw where he was coming from. “You think I can sell it for a lot?”

“Yeah,” Ed confirmed. “I told him to come back tomorrow and I'd have an answer for him. If you’re interested, stop by the shop at 10.”

Jason's irises were really close to turning into dollar signs. Of course! Obsessed fans were always a good market for these things.

“Count me in.”

Chapter Text

Tim spent the next day after school arranging his trophy room, a previously empty room where he now kept his collection, making space for the tire once it got to its new home. 

Tim knew that was probably bad. The act of stealing it had definitely been bad, right? Well, not exactly. The person had probably done it to get by, and Batman was a billionaire. It's not like that would hurt him, right? And he had already replaced it, so returning it was useless. 

Tim got out of that moral dilemma pretty easily.

He was pretty excited to go. He practically ran out the door, 900 dollars in cash in his pocket. He hoped it would be enough. He knew how expensive these things got.

Like usual, he fixed his face to make his best “don’t fuck with me” expression, the most convincing one he could manage being a 10 year old with rosy round cheeks. The bus driver always looked at him weird when he hoped on looking like he might bite someone.

He stuck to the more busy streets until the time arrived. He was pretty annoyed by the fact that he had to miss Batman’s patrol that night, so the tire thing better be worth it. 

He walked to the shop at 21:56 hours and by 22:00 exactly he was there. Not many things seemed different, except that the owner was chatting with a kid sitting on a stool. 

“That’s him,” Ed confirmed. Tim was grateful that Ed had filled the kid in and he didn’t have to explain the whole business himself. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” Tim offered a slight smile. “I came for the… thing. My name is Tim”

The kid looked at him. Tim didn’t doubt he was the one that stole the tire. He had only seen the incident from afar, but the build, the hair, everything added up, even the shirt. Wow, this kid must have identical shirts because it looked like the same one he’d seen that night. 

“My name’s Jason,” the kid answered. Ed seemed to retreat to his own stuff, leaving the two children to sort it out themselves. “Be free to check the goods before you buy ‘em. It's a 100% authentic part of the famous Batmobile.”

Jason pulled the tire out from a hiding spot under a table, behind old boxes. Tim’s eyes widened when he saw it. 

He muttered a quiet “Wow” as he approached and looked at it closely. It was genuine. He knew it because one time, he had dedicated his time to look at all the details of the Batmobile while Batman was distracted. The serial number of the tires had a little bat symbol in the middle, just like this one did. 

“And you see…” Jason leaned on the wall, watching Tim. Poor little fool, he thought. He’s getting ripped off.  ”It’s a really rare item. It was a hassle to get my hands on it.” Jason put up his best business face, imitating car sellers he’s seen on TV. “I have to get my work’s worth off it, but you seem like a good kid. You seem like the type to know your stuff, and in the business of tires, that’s not an easy thing to come across.”

Tim was slightly confused about why Jason was talking like an infomercial salesman, but as long as he got to the point, no problem. 

“So, since I like you, then I’m willing to put a lower price,” Jason said. Oh boy, he had a whole plan. He’d tell Tim it would be 350 dollars, and when Tim gasped from surprise at such a scandalous price, he’d propose to lower it to 250. If things got too bad, then he’d take 150 and walk away happy either way. 

»”350 dollars,” Jason declared proudly, ready to hear a sound of offense or even see a grimace of distaste.

He didn’t get what he expected. 

“Oh, sure, but…” Tim’s hand went to his pocket and he fished out four bills, a hundred dollars each. “I don’t have any change.” 

Jason was absolutely baffled. I mean, he wasn’t complaining, but he almost wanted to scold the kid. There must be better things he could use 400 dollars for. 

“I don’t have change either.” Jason said. 

Ed broke one of the hundred dollar bills for Jason. There was an awkward moment when Jason looked like a kid requesting money, tapping his foot impatiently.

"20 and and 10, thirty, and 10, forty, and 5, 5, fifty, plus, un, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez, a hundred." Ed just stacked the bills on Jason's hands. There were a lot of five's, Jason lost count at some point. He just chose to trust Ed gave him the right amount. 

“A pleasure to do business with you.” Jason gave Tim fifty in change and rolled the tire towards Tim. “All yours.”

The tire was tall and heavy. When Tim caught it, its weight pushed him back a bit. Jason held out his hand on reflex, thinking it was just going to roll over little Tim, already small for his age. 

“Thank you!” Tim squeaked. He seemed like he could barely contain his excitement. He turned on his axis along with the tire to push it out of the shop, making a grunt of effort on his way out. “See you later!”

Jason couldn’t help but feel a bit bad. He felt like he had scammed the poor kid, but he couldn’t take it back, he prioritized food in his stomach. He could at least do something nice for the kid, though.

“Hey,” he called out, stopping Tim. “Do you want any help?” He pulled his red cart from the side, which he used to transport his (stolen) goods. 

Tim just looked so small in his eyes, all alone. It almost seemed pitiful. He wasn’t like the other kids in the alley, he hadn’t gotten a taste of what surviving at all costs meant. Jason sighed. ”It’s heavy,” he said. “At least let me help you move that thing.” 

Tim was a bit surprised, but nodded. He didn’t want to say it, but he didn’t know how he was going to get that tire all the way to his house. He didn’t really plan that far ahead in his excitement. 

The two boys got the heavy tire on the cart and made their way out. Jason said “be right back” to Ed and took off.

“I can get you to your bus stop, at least,” Jason said and kept going, Tim trailing behind.

Tim could see it in Jason's face that he was being underestimated, and he didn’t like it. But he wouldn’t see Jason again, so it didn’t really matter.

Jason looked over at Tim with a raised eyebrow. The weirdness of this situation was dawning on him.

“Do your parents know where you are?” Jason asked Tim, trying to sound casual, not at all like he was worried for the kid.

“Hm, no,” Tim replied with a shrug. “But they don’t have to know. It’s not that hard to hide things from them anyways.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Jason ignored the red flags in that statement. It wasn’t his business anyway. He was just asking to be polite. “I’m just saying, this is not a place for little kids to be at night. Did your parents never tell you to not go out alone?”

Tim just shrugged. Jason’s words made him narrow his eyes. He didn’t like being thought of as a defenseless child. He discovered Batman and Robin’s identity! He deserved some respect!

“It’s none of your business,” Tim said, trying to keep the pout out of his face. “Don’t talk about my parents. I can do whatever I want. I’m not a defenseless baby.”

Jason lifted his free hand in sign of rendition. “Okay.”

Jason liked the kid. He had an attitude and a bite that Jason hadn’t expected. Nothing scared him, not even Crime Alley at night. Maybe he wasn't that aware of the value of money, but everything is a process.

As they walked, a well-lit establishment came into view. It had the words ‘café’, ‘crepes’, ‘cake’ and ‘ice cream’  in a neon sign. It was empty, but nicely furnished, considering the location. The only café in a 3 mile radius. It opened and closed late. Jason had passed by a few times, but he had never entered. He was pretty sure it was a money laundering front and he didn’t have dollars to spare in a Café anyway.

He pulled Tim in the direction of the place. “Kid, I don’t usually do this for my clients, but you get special treatment. A purchase this big always comes with free stuff.”

Now, Jason had the money to buy himself and someone else a crepe. Was the sudden money getting to his head? Maybe, but he wanted to do it anyway. He deserved it. 

They sat at one of the little tables by the door. The only worker there seemed surprised to see them, but she had to do her job, so she offered the two boys menus. 

“So, been a Batman fan for long?” Jason asked him.

Tim thought about it for a moment. Since he was nine, and that was a long time ago. “You could say so,” he replied. 

Jason had been cooking up an idea and it was solidifying. “So, if I told you I’ll have more Batman stuff in a week, would you be interested?”

Tim was, in fact, interested. Jason had to listen to a long rant about Batman, the utility belt, the batmobile, all his known gadgets and the kid’s personal wishlist. Fortunately, that gave the café worker the time to google how to make crepes and whip up the orders.

Chapter Text

With much effort, Tim got the tire to his house and decided he would stick with smaller items from then on. Damn his parents when they decided to buy a manor uphill! At least Jason let him keep the cart. “It comes with the product”, the older boy had said. 

Tim was still thinking about it and the more he did, the more he was convinced of his choice. This business partnership would be greatly beneficial for both of them. 

[...]

Jason had let Tim keep the cart. It was cheap, anyway. Now, he could buy a better one, one that didn’t have a creaking wheel that got stuck over and over. Jason was improving his business! 

He would have to develop a strategy, though. He wasn’t stupid, nor was Batman, and despite how easy it had been to steal that tire from him the first time, it didn’t mean it would be that way again. Batman was probably more careful around Crime Alley, as he should. 

Jason was swimming in luxury. He had bought himself a new pillow, a whole new pillow! And books that he had wanted for so long but he couldn't afford. Books were so expensive nowadays, he thought. And then people wonder why nobody reads books anymore. 

How to cheat a good detective was his dilemma. According to Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie, it was impossible, but Jason doubted Batman was as smart as Hercule Poirot or Sherlock Holmes. 

His deadline was set. He had told Tim he’d have new stuff for him in the span of a week, so he had to act fast. The first days, he’d watch the bat, look at his movements and routes up close, and figure out his weaknesses. 

Yes, everything was coming together nicely.

Gotham, bless her soul, always had some kind of disaster going on. This time, there was a fire in an apartment building. There was panic everywhere, people screaming, firefighters and Batman being stretched thin to rescue the people and put out the fire at the same time.

It was the perfect opportunity for Jason. 

He strategically stained his face with soot and ash and got closer to the building, dodging the people. Yeah, it might’ve been dangerous to get so close to a building on fire, but if he compared it with another week of empty stomachs, then Jason knew which one he’d choose. 

He hid and then waited for the right moment to run out, approaching Batman coughing and crying. 

“Batman, please, help!” He cried, reaching out for the hero. Batman caught Jason’s panicked form as he kept barking orders to firefighters and witnesses.

He carried Jason to a safe area, but Jason was still clinging to him.

“It’s alright, chum,” Batman told him, trying to comfort him. “Everything will be alright. The people there will help you find your parents.” He pointed at the emergency workers and paramedics. “Here, have this.”

Batman gently knelt down in front of Jason to be at the same height and took something from his utility belt: a lollipop, wrapped in bright yellow paper with the bat logo on it. “Don’t be scared. I have to go back, but you’ll be safe. I promise.”

Jason was a little taken aback. He struggled to remember the last time an adult had treated him with such… gentleness, like a parent. 

He nodded and grabbed the lollipop. Batman left, and as Jason looked at the bright wrapper, he let out a snort. How old does he think I am? He thought, shaking his head and huffing.

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to eat it, anyway. He had a client waiting for it.

He walked away from the scene, making his way through emergency workers that wanted to take him to a hospital and then to a dirty orphanage. He learned long ago those places were no good.

He blinked at the flash of the cameras, but he noticed something else. Another flash of a camera coming from the top of a nearby building, instead of the press teams gathering around the scene. 

In the dark of the night, he couldn’t see very well, and the photographer was well camouflaged, but he had a feeling that he knew who it was.

The photographer in question would get very happy when Jason showed him his brand new Bat-Grapple Gun. 

Surely Batman wouldn't be needing it. 

 [...]

The fire had caused a large amount of damage. Batman had struggled to get all the people out to safety. Usually, that would be it. He was tired and he wanted to go home, but the experience had taught him that he had to do more.

Lots of these people had nowhere to fall back on. Either they didn’t have a family who could host them until they got back on their feet, or wouldn’t be able to afford to get another place in a very long time. There was a reason they were living in a run down apartment building with unsafe gas pipes installation. They probably wouldn’t be able to afford something better, and now they probably lost even more. 

So he stayed longer to work with firefighters and other social workers, to make sure they had a safe net to land. He made sure the people were directed to the infrastructure he’d been trying so hard to build through the years, shelters, safe places. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something, at least.

“Did you find the kid’s parents?” Bruce asked a firefighter, who was already wrapping everything up to leave. “It was a small kid, maybe around ten? Black hair, blue eyes.”

The guy’s brow furrowed when he heard that. “There wasn’t any kid with that description,” he said. “All the kids were reunited with their families, and nobody was looking for a missing child.”

Batman froze. He felt the urge to explode at the poor guy. Had he lost a child? A child that was scared, cold, and confused? In fact, they never had him to begin with? They hadn’t seen the kid at all?

“Look for him,” Batman ordered. “A kid with black hair, blue eyes, between 9 and 12 years old, living in this building. If he isn’t in a missing persons list, then find me who his family is.”

Either way, the boy probably wasn’t in the best place anyway. He was thinner than a boy his age should be. With the information he received from the police, he’d do his own research about who this boy was, and probably get him help too. 

He analyzed the surroundings for any clues, but simple observation didn’t seem to be enough. 

Though the cowl lenses detected movement on a nearby roof. He immediately zoomed in, but whoever they were, they scurried away quickly. 

So he started running after them. A person watching the disaster and escaping as soon as they were found can't be up to any good.

He tried grappling to get to the roof, but his grapple gun was not where he expected it to be.

"What the f…" He grabbed his spare one and tried to catch up, but very quickly, the presence was gone.

He'd had suspicions for a while, but he had confirmed it. Someone was watching him. But who? And where did he drop the grapple gun?

[…]

"Very nice, right?" Jason said, smirking at Tim's expression of awe.

"It's amazing!" The younger boy said, looking at the grapple gun very carefully. All the details seemed fascinating to him.

"This one won't be much," Jason said and shrugged. "Just 125."

"Seems reasonable." Tim nodded and took out the money.

Jason liked the boy, not only for his money. Yeah, the money played a part in it (it's difficult to not like someone who lets go of money so easily), but Jason also thought he was endearing in a strange sort of way.

"Have this," he said and held the bat-lollipop out for Tim. "A freebie for my favorite client."

Tim lit up and Jason smiled. He didn't think he had a brotherly instinct, but he there he was, actively seeking to make the boy smile.

"I can't believe you," Tim said. "How can you do this? How doesn't he catch you?"

"I have my methods," Jason replied proudly. "I could teach you."

Tim squeaked and started jumping in place enthusiastically. "Yes, yes, teach me!"

When Jason saw Tim's eyes, big and full of hunger for knowledge, he knew he was going to be the greatest older brother for him, and they were going to develop the best bond there was: partners in crime.