2 - Lincoln and Wedding Bears

A month after Tara, he was sitting on a rooftop, stitching a hole in his shoulder. In that time, he'd given fifteen kids his number. His eighth burner phone, the one that he thought he would never get around to using when he'd gotten it, was now kept fully charged and on him at all times. He even had a back up battery in his belt.

He was just pulling the last stitch, some drug dealer had gotten lucky, when the familiar ringtone went off. It had barely gotten past its first ring when he answered. "Talk to me."

"I'm sorry, Paul said this was a good number to call if I got into trouble or if I needed to talk and I just really need to talk and-"

"Whoa. Hold up kid." Paul. He'd caught the kid a week ago stealing hubcaps from mob cars. Given him fifteen dozen cans of vegetables and tuna and the number. "Where are you?"

A sniffle. "Corner of Fourth and Lincoln. On top of the Providence building."

That didn't sound good. "Just hold up. I'll be there in two minutes."

One minute and forty five seconds later, he dropped next to the kid. Twelve years old, male, and sitting on the edge of the building, looking at the ground like it was his destiny. He pulled off his helmet. "So you wanted to talk?"

"Yeah." But the kid just pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his chin on top, still staring at the ground. So Jason gave him the time he needed. Eventually, "Some kids at school have been bullying me. It's... it's gotten bad. Really bad. I..." He dropped his head, until his eyebrows were on his knees. "I don't want to live in a world where people do stuff like this and get away with it."

Jason gave out a quiet laugh. "Don't know what to tell you kid. I'm probably the worst person to ask for help with this. My entire vigilante career is punishing people who do bad stuff."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But don't copy me, seriously." They sat in silence for a bit. And Jason thought back to his own school experiences. Before Mom died, he'd been bullied for being the poor kid, for being interested in learning and for trying to be kind. Eventually, he'd built up a thick skin, pushed back, made a terror of himself. Things hadn't changed much after he'd been adopted by Bruce. But then he was the charity case. And none of this was helpful to the kid. "What's your name?"

"Rahman Blum. And before you ask, it's a family name."

"Ha. Wasn't going to ask. And Paul. He's a friend of yours?"

"Yeah. My only friend. He's a good guy. A bit klepto, but good."

"Tell me about it." Even after the fifteen dozen cans of food, the kid had tried to nick Red Hood's belt. "And you're ok letting a good guy like that mourn his friend?"

That gave the kid a pause. "No. Not really."

"Didn't think so. And let me tell you. Even if you did jump off this roof, those bullies would just pick a new target. Someone smaller, younger, weaker. You're alright letting some kid take that kind of punishment?"

"No." And Rahman was crying now. "No, I'm not. Even with all this hurt, I'd still rather it was me."

Another moment of strained silence. "If you jumped off this roof, I'd be sad. I just met you, but I would miss you. All the friends you'll make in the future, they'll be sad, even if they won't know why."

"What friends?" He sniffled and ran a hand under his nose. "I'm a freak. Paul only hangs out with me because no one else wants a klepto for a friend."

"That's probably not the only reason. He probably hangs out with you because he likes you."

"You think?"

"I don't think he would have given you my number if he didn't." All of the kids he had given his number to had treated it like it was precious, like they would never let it out of their sight. "As for future friends, well, I know a few people. People who could use a friend like you."

"What's so good about me?"

"You hang out with Paul, right? Even though he steals your stuff?"

"He doesn't mean it. And he gives it back later. Says sorry."

Jason snapped his fingers, as if the statement was a revelation. "Right. And you know that because you gave him a chance. You got to know him before you judged him. Everyone needs a friend like that." He pulled out his burner phone and started going through the recent calls. He copied down a number and passed it over. "Here. Her name is Sylvia Bentley. She has no friends, but she goes through life hoping to find one. Give her a call. Tell her your story. Or don't. It's up to you. But you won't know unless you call her."

And Rahman wiped his nose again and smiled. "Yeah. Thanks Red Hood. You know, you're not as bad as the papers say you are."

With a chuckle, he pulled his helmet back on and grabbed the kid by the waist with one arm, pulling his grapple with the other. "Of course not. I'm worse. Now where do you live?"

With a small grunt, he pulled the kid up on the ledge next to him. "Here you go kid. As promised." And he handed over the bag.

"Wow." The kid, Darius Green, opened up the bag. Inside were two stuffed teddy bears, vintage ones. "I can't believe you found them." And his eyes grew misty.

Darius had lost his parents recently. His house, and everything in it, had been sold to pay for his dad's medical bills, and his mom had worked herself to death trying to pay the remaining debt. He had nothing left of them.

Nothing, but these two bears. They were wedding bears, one in a white dress, one in a tux. Apparently, they'd sat on the mantle for Darius's entire childhood, and he'd always admired them. Secretly of course. He was a teenager now and didn't have time for bears.

But with his parents gone, he wanted something, anything, to remind him of them.

"It wasn't too difficult." Jason had gone through every pawn shop in Bludhaven looking for those bears. "Just keep them safe, you hear?"

"Right. Can do." They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Darius asked, "Why did you help me? I mean, this request must have been pretty strange."

"Not the strangest. But if you must know," carefully, Jason reached inside his belt and pulled out a hair clip. "This is all I have left of my mother. Just this. She always wanted me to go to school, to become something better than what she was, than what Dad was. But after she died..." He sighed. This never got any easier to tell. "I had nothing. I didn't have an aunt to take me in. I had to drop out of school, spend all my days looking for food. But through it all, I had this. And it was the only comfort I had."

He smiled and looked at Darius. "So I get it. I do. And it's not a weird request at all."

AN: So I realize some of the things I'm going to go into in this fic can be sensitive topics for lots of people. If you have a problem with how I portray something, please feel free to PM me about it.

On the same vein as that: I do take suggestions, but if it's not something I'm really familiar with in real life, I might not write it. I don't want to devalue any topics with a halfhearted attempt. Apologies in advance.

The next chapter will be all fluff.

Read and enjoy!