A/N: Jax is Jason's homeless alter-ego

Jason should have known it would happen. The boy was small, and feeble, and it had been bitterly cold the night of the confrontation with the two thugs. While Jason had age and strength, along with insulating layers, to keep him on the warmer end of the cold scale, the boy hadn't been so lucky.

The next morning, nearly mid-day, Jason stared at the boy. Richie was resting on Jason's mattress, the one that he had begrudgingly surrendered the night before after patrol. The kid's face was pinched and sallow, a thin sheen of sweat plastered over his forehead as he shifted restlessly in his sleep.

Jason sighed, roughly rubbing his forehead in indecision. He had never taken care of a child before, much less been in their presence for longer than a few hours – he had no clue how to cure a sick kid, and he had no particular inclination in wanting to. But, for a reason beyond his understanding, he had felt an underlying, but strong, connection with this particular homeless kid, and had subsequently taken him in. Richie, unbeknownst to him, was now under Jason's protection, whether it be from muggers, CPS or the sickness bug, apparently.

He didn't quite know why or how the kid had struck a chord with him so quickly and efficiently, but he had. Perhaps it was because he could relate to the kid, growing up on the streets himself, living it rough, but the connection seemed deeper than that. There had been many times when Jason had passed other homeless kids without sparing a glance – maybe a few dollars, or a bread roll – but he had never felt the urge to particularly help them in any other way. On the streets, it was dog eat dog, kill or be killed – you couldn't share your latest meal with the young kid on the corner, because it could be your last for some time - you had to savour it.

But Richie had wormed himself under Jason's skin and, as crazy as it sounded, he felt like he knew the kid. Not in a personal relationship kind of way, but he knew his mind, what the boy was thinking, his reasoning and his actions. Jason had longed to find a kindred spirit, and he had, in the body of a street urchin - go figure.

Perhaps it explained the feeling in his chest, the dark, heavy ball filling his chest cavity, as he watched the boy's laboured breath. He felt uneasy, slightly agitated, and if Jason didn't already know better, he would have labelled the feeling as concern, or worry.

He huffed, standing up from his crouch beside the boy's head. He had pulled on his shoes and was out of the train car before he could dwell on it any longer.

The boy was gone when Jason returned. He was a few bottles of water, energy bars and medication heavier, but quite a few dollars lighter. He had been forced to use his spare cash, the amount he kept for rainy days, and had resigned himself to just scraping by for the next week.

"Kid?" Jason called out, gruff in frustration. He threw his recently bought items on the empty mattress that lay unmoving on the floor. "Richie?"

He felt something flutter inside his chest as silence answered his call, but he passed it off as irritation, even as his skin cooled rapidly, the hairs on his arms to raise defensively. He felt slightly light-headed, and he wondered if he was getting sick himself

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to outside. It sounded like any other scuffle that occasionally occurred between the local homeless, but one voice sounded too high pitched and weak, and Jason was moving before he had given it conscious thought. He left his safe-house and rounded the pile of the concrete bridge.

The sight that greeted him was one that made him feel enraged, blistering, but he forced himself to stay where he was. He kept his hands where they were, emitting tranquillity, but they were clenched into fists in his pockets, trembling. He slowly inched forward, confidence making his steps land silently but firmly. Keeping his head down, Jason joined the small crowd surrounding the scene.

Weak and feverish, Richie struggled half-heartedly at the grip around his wrist, twisting and trashing in an attempt to get away. The man that had seized him had no trouble keeping hold of the small boy by one hand, and that fact seemed to make Richie even more desperate. Jason recognised the man as Sean, one of those in the homeless system, higher up in the hierarchy. Not as high as Jason, but he generally liked the guy - he was a nice enough person, if a bit entitled.

"What were you doing in Jax's place, kid?" Sean demanded of the boy, shaking him roughly.

"I don't know who that is!" Richie pleaded, almost whining, and Jason could see the febrile glint in his eye from the back of the gathered crowd. "I swear, I don't!"

"Don't you lie to me, boy," Sean growled. Richie cried out as the older and stronger man jerked him, wrenching his shoulder sharply.

Having seen enough, Jason sauntered forward, hands in his pockets, casual, but his eyes unnervingly piercing. "We have a problem here?"

At his voice, there was a noticeable shift in their audience and in Sean himself. This particular clan of homeless had been here long before he had, but Jason had built up his reputation on the street and when he had arrived, it had been easy to switch the communities' wariness of him into respect. He had quickly become their sort-of leader, their authority, and they were inclined to trust him and vice versa, as long as they didn't step out of line. He never abused his power, never really asked them to do anything, which is why he had to play this out easy and peacefully – he couldn't afford for them to stage a mutiny at his sudden change of attitude.

"Ah, look, kid. It's Jax himself," Sean said, overly enthusiastic, gesturing to Jason as he glared pointedly at Richie.

"Jay!" Richie cried out, relief evident in his voice as he fell still in Sean's grip. His eyes lit up at the sight of the vigilante. Catching sight of it, Jason was blindsided by a wave of complete and utter possessiveness. He blinked, and it dissipated, but it continued to bubble beneath his skin as if it were an electric current.

"Hey, Rich," he said quietly after a moment, smiling softly in reassurance as his eyes roamed over the boy for signs of harm, "You okay, kid?"

At the boy's tiny nod, he turned to the older man, eying him up and portraying his disapproval through his stare alone. It seemed to work, because the man's brows furrowed in confusion. "You wanna explain what's going on here, Sean?"

"The little rat was in your trailer, Jax," he explained, "I was just doing some exterminating, is all."

A titter of rumbling laughter scattered through the surrounding throng, but Jason didn't see what was so funny. He frowned, more annoyed than anything, feeling a sense of déjù vu. "Let the boy go, Sean."

"Why?" Sean asked. Jason could see the obvious, plain confusion in his face, and the older man felt emboldened in the face of their crowd to object. "Why not punish him for it?"

Before Jason could blink, Sean dropped Richie into the dirt at his feet and swung his leg back, his boot aimed towards the defenceless boy's abdomen.

Jason didn't remember moving, or the time between hearing Richie's pained yelp and having his hand around Sean's throat, protectively placing himself between the sick, moaning boy and his offender. "You dare to touch what's mine."

He snarled, a truly animalistic thing, and snapped his fist into Sean's face. He stepped back impassively as the man fell to the floor with a cry, cradling his gushing nose. A dangerous silence settled amongst the crowd, and no one moved to help the fallen man.

Jason turned, crouched and picked up Richie, bridal-style, and the boy curled into his body, seeking warmth and comfort. He murmured to the boy indistinctly, hushing him as he stood. He faced the crowd, who didn't meet his eyes. "The next person to hurt this boy will go down, permanently."

He headed back to his trailer. No one challenged him.

There was something about the threat of violence that made word spread quickly, and Jason heard the same phrase echo down the criminal grapevine – Jax's kid was off-limits. They were left to their own devices after the confrontation with Sean, something which Jason couldn't help but feel thankful for.

Richie got better, and the bruising on his stomach faded from purple to green to yellow, until the skin was unblemished, showing no sign of the abuse. They fell into a routine, and Jason thought he would have had trouble in sharing his life with another person, but Richie easily slipped into the cracks and fissures in his life that he didn't realise were there.

Of course, it wasn't that simple, and times were tough. There were nights that Jason had to fall asleep with the pang of hunger echoing in his stomach, just so that Richie would have a meal every day. It paid off, and Jason watched with pride as slowly but surely, the boy filled out, his ribs no longer ledges jutting out from his body. The boy became stronger, he didn't sleep as much, and he suddenly had an endless amount of energy that Jason found himself unable to keep up with.

The boy was insatiable, often pissing off the older man so much that they would argue, sharp tongues loaded with biting words. But they always would move on, water under the bridge, and the boy would whisper apologizes at night, so dark that Jason couldn't see the tip of his own nose. He would gather the boy up in his arms, hushing him as he warded off the chill from their shared mattress. But, in the morning, it had never happened.

It had been weeks since he had found the boy. They had settled into a strange sort of relationship; almost brotherly, almost paternal. He shared everything with the younger boy; his food, his water, shelter – but never his past, nor his nightlife. Surprisingly, the boy seemed reluctant to share his past as well, which made Jason slightly suspicious, but he couldn't bring himself to be a hypocrite, so he never forced the issue.

"Why won't you take me with you?" Richie asked, grunting in exertion as he threw a punch into the open air. He had been at it for hours.

"Keep your elbow up, kid," Jason grinned instead of answering, taking a drag of the cigarette that he balanced idly between his fingers. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the wind ruffling his hair gently.

"'Keep your elbow up'," Richie muttered under his breath, in a high and mocking pitch. Jason snorted around his cigarette. The boy turned towards the older man and raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the setting sun. "I'm serious, Jason. Why can't I go with you?"

Jason eyed the boy for a moment, before he stood up, jumping down from the top of the crates he had been lounging on, landing on the dry, loose dust that covered the ground. He walked up to the boy with an easy smirk, feeling more relaxed than he had in months. "You really want to? In all seriousness?"

"Yes!" Richie exclaimed, throwing his arms up in exasperation. He tilted his head up to maintain eye contact as Jason neared. "In complete and utter seriousness."

"Okay, Rich," Jason pacified, huffing in amusement as the boy became more agitated. "If you can beat me right now, you get to come on patrol with me."

Richie gaped. "Beat you? Jay, that's impossible."

Jason couldn't help the feeling of arrogance and pride that made his chest swell slightly, and he couldn't quite wipe the conceited smirk off his face as he answered, "Not quite, kid. Come on, I believe in you."

"Jay," Richie said, trailing off and sounding unsure, "I don't know-"

"I'll pull my punches, I swear."

"But-"

Jason rushed at Richie. It obviously threw the boy off balance, but he dipped and weaved under Jason's arm before they made contact. The boy scuttled back, hands up defensively as Jason turned, a wild grin on his face.

"What the hell, Jason!" Richie exclaimed incredulously, breathing hard.

"That was good, Rich," he encouraged, "Come on, kid – fight me."

The kid's lips curled. He ran forward with a cry, fists up. Jason was ready. He blocked the kid's hits as they rained down. The boy quickly tired, so Jason jabbed at his chest with a closed fist.

Richie stumbled back. Jason let him. The boy gasped for air, and for a moment, he looked like he was going to puke, before he straightened up, snarling. He charged once more, but Jason could see the glint of determination in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Jason smirked wolfishly. He aimed for the kid's shoulder, but Richie dived to the side. The momentum threw the older man forward and Richie lashed out with his heel, driving him further onward. He regained his balance and whipped around.

He advanced towards his younger opponent. He snapped his fist into the boy's face. It was pulled, and aimed towards the side of his head, but Richie still staggered back at the blow. Jason didn't give him time to recover. He slammed his foot into the side of the boy's ribcage.

Richie fell to the side, but kept himself on his feet. His breath hitched. Adrenaline and anger mixed in his veins and he shook his head violently to clear his mind. Sweat was thrown from the ends of his hair onto the surrounding dirt.

With a yell, the kid threw his foot up high, aiming for a kick. But Jason ducked, sliding easily into a leg-sweep. Richie's support was knocked out from under him. His back smashed into the ground and he coughed painfully as dust swirled up around his face. He shook his head in defeat, his white flag of surrender. Jason crouched by his head with a gloating smirk.

"You're not even sweating," Richie breathed incredulously, accusingly, and Jason huffed in amusement. He rolled his eyes and stood up, heading back towards the trailer.

He threw a glance over his shoulder. "You coming or what?"

Richie's head snapped up from where he still lay on the ground, his body at a ninety-degree angle. "On patrol?"

Jason smirked, facing forward once more. "Sure."

He was suddenly tackled from behind, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He could feel Richie vibrating in eagerness. "Even though you beat me? Really? In all seriousness?"

Jason snorted. He reached around and gripped the back of the boy's shirt, tugging him forward and swinging him up into his arms. The boy shrieked as he was suddenly swinging upside down, strong hands gripping his ankles.

Jason grinned. "Yeah, kid. In complete and utter seriousness."