Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, I don't own these characters and neither do you. (if you do though, I have $6 with your name on it)

Please let me know what you think by commenting. What you like and what you think I should change. I want it all! so please comment below.

Moonlight filters through the trees, illuminating the pitch black hair below. The bright lights passing through the large window reflects off bright blue eyes. He watches the party with eyes filled with wonder, the golden glow, the elegant dancing and gleaming aura. He comes here often, to watch the beautiful parties. Suddenly, he hears the sound of footsteps coming through the garden and he freezes.

Two men come into view, both wearing suits and masks, to match the masquerade ball going on. He tries to go back into the trees, but he steps on a twig, the snap seemingly deafening in the silence. The two men pause and send questioning glances at each other before heading towards the noise. They get close enough that he can see their eyes through the masks.

One has intense green eyes and the other has piercing blue ones.

The man with blue eyes calls out into the darkness, "Come out, it's okay." He slowly, carefully comes out into the open, revealing his torn clothes and dirty face.

The blue eyed man speaks softly as if to calm him." Hi, my name is Bruce. What is your's?"

He hesitates for a second before responding and it comes out a barely a whisper, " M-my name i-is Jason."

The green eyed man seems to catch on and crouches down next to Bruce. " Hi Jason, my name is Oliver. How old are you?"

Jason holds out six fingers. Bruce looks over Jason's thin form with a critical eye then kindly asks, "Jason, where do you live?" He knew he shouldn't be telling these men anything, shouldn't be talking to them, shouldn't be doing anything but running far and away. But something about these men made him feel so at peace, at ease...

"...In the park."

"Where are your parents?"

Jason looks away from Oliver, his eyes brimming with tears. Bruce, sensing that this was a sensitive topic quickly asks, " Jason, would you like some dinner?" Jason wipes away his tears and nods quickly.

Oliver walks back inside and returns shortly after carrying a plate with a roll, some assorted fruits and vegetables, and a cupcake. Jason devours it quickly, leaving almost no trace that the food was there.

Suddenly, a voice calls out from inside, " Bruce, Oliver! Come on! You're needed!" They both stand up and Bruce tells Jason to stay put, that he would be back soon. But when they leave, Jason takes off down the road to his makeshift home in the park. He finds the old kids menus and crayons he found in the dumpster behind a restaurant while scavenging for food.

Jason picks up a red crayon and begins talking aloud as he draws. " One day, I am going to be rich, just like Bruce and Oliver. I am going to wear a mask just like them."

He draws a red mask on the paper and signs his name as best he can of the bottom. He settles down into an old blanket while murmuring sleepily to himself, " One day, I'm going to be just like them."

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Bruce slowly opens the door, peering into the dark room, barely illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window. Everything was as it was before, completely undisturbed. He walks over to the dresser, and opens it, removing a shirt from within. He holds it up to his nose, inhaling the familiar scent. Tears gather in his eyes and begin to flow freely down his face, dripping onto the shirt.

This was a rare moment of weakness for him but he couldn't contain it. All he could think of was Jason. Feeling Jason's broken body in his arms, feeling no sign of life. there was no more of Jason's spunk or sarcasm to make him secretly smile.

No more Jason. He didn't deserve to die, he was just a child. Bruce should have done more, he could have done more to protect him, to make sure he was safe. But now he was gone. Despair racked Bruce's body and he grabbed the dresser for support. He rested his hand in the open drawer and suddenly, the faintest sound of crackling paper broke through his haze of misery.

Bruce sifted through the drawer until he found it. A child's drawing, of a red mask drawn of the back of a clearly weathered children's menu. And the signature at the bottom. Bruce couldn't handle it anymore. He placed the drawing on top of the dresser and walked swiftly out of the room, trying to gain control of his raging despair.

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Bruce paced nervously down in the bat cave in front of his computer. Who was the Red hood? Who was killing Gotham's villains. He has studied every square inch of the picture he had managed to get of the Red Hood. But it gave nothing away.

The world's greatest detective could not figure out who this was. Suddenly, he started worrying about Tim. He didn't know anything about this Red Hood and he had sent Tim out of his own to patrol. Last time, last time Robin died. Just that thought of Jason suddenly sent him into a haze of sadness. And then the answer came bright as day. Bruce raced up the stairs, faster than he ever knew.

He went tearing straight into Jason's room, which had been left untouched. A layer of dust coated everything, because even Alfred couldn't bear to go into that room. But Batman didn't notice any of that. His gaze flew straight to the dresser, where there was a square of no dust of the dresser. Right where the drawing of the mask had been. Suddenly, one thought consumed Bruce's mind.

Jason.