A/N: First off, I just wanted to say that I edited the timing of the last chapter. Instead of being the night Jason and Tim left Leslie's, it happened about a week or two after. This chapter is set for five days after Social Issues - basically it's going back on track. There won't be much dialogue in this chapter - I think this might just be a filler. If you've caught the pattern I write in, you'll know who this chappie is centered around.

Echoes 01: To be quite honest, I never saw Batman Beyond: The Animated Series, the Batman Beyond movie, or read any of the Batman Beyond comics. (Wow. Type those words enough times and you hope never to see them again.) I just did a bit'a research, though, and so far I can't see much this story would include aside from Joker!Tim. So I won't be including much of that. Timmy... You wouldn't go all Joker 'n me... Right? No... Good, good... Just in case though. Jay... *Locks himself and Tim in a room protected by myself, Alfred, and Dick* There. JASON!

Jenniferg7: That's actually why I post on a deadline. I know how it can be to wait months for a single update, so I try and get long, decent, chapters up as quick as my life allows me to. I'm really happy you're liking this story, and I hope you'll stick with me 'til the end :)

Enjoy

Privation

noun: a state in which things that are essential for human well-being such as food and warmth are scarce or lacking

Jason was maybe... 87% sure that he'd found another way to make money. A day or two ago, he'd gone with Tim over to the diner he worked at: Newman's Place. It was a nice little place - one of the few left in this God-forsaken city, especially Crime Alley - with a long, rectangular, red awning, large spotless glass windows (bullet-proof and reinforced, of course), walls painted a frosty grey color, dark grey double doors, and a few black tables fenced in by a red picket fence. It made the two "establishments" it was between look like the trash they were. Both had worn and faded paint, cracked glass, faded and torn awnings... Not to mention the prostitution and drug dealings that go on in the damn places. (Needless to say, Jason kept Tim far, far away from those two... Cesspits) The staff were relatively decent in Newman's Place, and the owner was a nice guy, so when Jason explained his injury, Mr. Dawns - the owner - let him take two weeks off... Here's the kicker... With pay. Two weeks! Doing nothing! Paid!

So there was about... $125 - $170 the bothers wouldn't have to worry about... Not to mention, the three hundred dollars that had somehow appeared hidden under the coffee maker yesterday.

He snorted, remembering the way Tim had stared at the money in his hand like it had insulted their mom.

Right now, Jason was in the living room, sitting in the beat-up, dark green, ripped and stained couch. Staring at the stains on the couch, Jason couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. Those, were bloodstains. Like they'd be anything else.

...Oh wait. That one there, on the armrest, was beer. And the one just a little lower that the first was beer too. Huh.

S'not like Jason didn't remember Willis getting drunk - no he'd have to be dead to forget (maybe not even then) the bottles broken on his head and back - it's just that he hadn't noticed the beer stains on the couch before. It's always just been blood, blood, blood. Sometimes, that's just what Jason thinks his life is; his purpose in life - to simply bleed to death.

What a fucked-up way to die.

A loud 'bang' sounded, and Jason heard the sounds of rhythmic thuds against the wall soon accompany the initial noise. His nose wrinkled in disgust. Sometimes, not having soundproof walls sucked absolute ass.

Standing up, Jason winced at the pain that shot up his knee and caused a sharp bolt of pain to strike his chest. With a grunt, he made his way to the door. Jason didn't need to grab his red sweater - he was already wearing it. Not having insulation or a functioning heater also sucked ass. It's always cold in Gotham. It being early January didn't help the icy cold any so Jason and Tim were always wearing their thin sweaters and two t-shirts on underneath (Jason had the leather jacket on over the sweater, though, per Tim's insistence). Socks were always on their feet and the torn gloves they owned were now always on their hands.

Jason shook his head, clearing it. Walking outside, he sighed. Tim was out, looking for some way he could help with their money issue despite Jason's firm insistence that he be the one responsible for getting the money. Jason hadn't thought Tim would care, and sure enough, he'd nearly had a heart attack when Tim was nowhere to be found in the morning. The little shit had left him a God damn note in the dining room/kitchen. Scrawled on the paper was 'I know you think you can carry the world on your shoulders, but let's face it Jay. You really can't on that bum leg of yours, so I went to Hoover's Café to see if I can get a job.' At that point, Jason wanted to strangle his little brother in frustration, then immediately regretted even having the idea - the fantasy - of his hands being the cause of his baby brother's demise.

Just thinking of it made him shudder.

Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, Jason fished for a lighter in his pockets. Once the cigarette was lit, Jason brought the 'cancer stick' to his lips, resting against the cold railing on his left arm, taking a long drag from the cigarette. The warmth it produced was welcome and the de-stressing was also appreciated. Oh, and hey, at least he doesn't need to listen to Dwight and Glitter (one of the working girls he knew) have a rough fuck. No thank-you. He's had enough of those kinds of trauma a tad too much in his life.

Jason's eyes wandered down to the street below. He chuckled when he realized how small people looked even from his spot on the second floor of his apartment building. Like damn ants on the street. Huh. Weird.

His aquamarine green eyes lazily flicked from person to person; from grey car to blue car; from building to building. The girls were over on the corner of Jefferson's and Seventh, that drug dealer named Leif (A/N: pronounced Laif) over next to Skrill's Drills (the only way Jason knew the fucker was because he was Catherine's dealer, once-upon-a-time) was hidden in the shadows of the alley, Old man Garrett from the apartment room to Jason's left was walking to Bart's SuperMart, with... Was that Timmy?

Jason snorted at the sight, wincing at the headache that began to form. F'course Timmy went to visit Garrett. The boys had a special relationship with the ol' man. On bad days, Jason and Tim would go next door and eat cookies and chocolate bars, listening as the old man told tales of his youth. Sometimes, Timmy still goes. Jason goes with Tim whenever he has the time to, but that's not a very frequent thing. Jason works hard for the little he and Tim have, but he wouldn't have it any other way. Just Jason and Tim. That's all Jason needs. His brother. But his baby brother needs water to bathe in, soap to bathe with, clothes to wear, food to eat, and a roof under which he can sleep.

So Jason gets his Babybird what he needs as best to his ability. He just hopes Tim is okay with what Jason can give.

But sometimes it hard. It's hard trying to be a good big brother; it's hard trying to be a father figure for Tim; it's hard trying to be as gentle as his mother was for Tim. It's...

It's hard trying to be all those things for Tim. Not to mention being a protector for the kid - a best friend.

Jason sighed, taking another drag from his cigarette before doing so. The smoke billowed out in his face and Jason slid his eyes shut and let his head hang. It's... Just for a little bit. Yep. He just needs to think (some more) for a bit... Or, well, he needs to not think for a bit. Yeah. That sounds better.

Jason opened his eyes, took one last drag of his cigarette, and stomped the thing out after dropping it on the ground. Turning, he limped back into the apartment, heading for his room. Once he reached the room (thank God he couldn't hear Dwight and Glitter), Jason plopped down on the matress he shared with Tim, allowing his eyes to slide shut. Jason knew he didn't have to worry about Tim since he was with Old man Garrett who always had a pistol on his person somewhere and was practically a grandfather to the boys he ate cookies with. (The cookies were great, but Jason and Tim were pretty sure they could be better. Not that they were complainin'). Just a quick nap. He'd be up by the time Tim was back from Garrett's.

Waking up to voices in your tiny kitchen, Jason decided, was freaky as fuck. Especially when it's your baby brother's voice, and a voice that you know but can't pin down.

Jolting up to his feet - ow. Bad idea. Baad idea. - Jason staggered to the door to the room and stumbled down the hall - towards the kitchen with a knife in-hand. I swear to God, Jason thought to himself, if there's anyone threatening Tim... Lord help them.

Stepping around the corner that leads to the kitchen, Jason blinked at the sight that met him. Tim was sitting at the coffee table, typing away at the laptop Jason had gotten (stolen for) him two years ago with a box next to him. That, Jason could expect (except for the box. The hell was in that?). He was fine with that scene.

It was Dick Grayson in a blue button-up - sleeves rolled up hastily -and jeans - worn - sitting on their counter top that threw Jason for a loop. What was the rich boy doing here?

Tim huffed frustratedly. "No, see, I'm almost in, it's just this code is taking too long for me to crack."

Dick chuckled. "Tim, it's only been two minutes. It would take me at least ten to crack into Wayne Enterprises, and I've been at this longer that you have."

Wait. What.

Tim's tongue poked out the corner of his mouth and he leaned forward, still typing away. Neither of them noticed Jason standing there with the knife dangling from his fingertips. "No, no, I'm almost there I can feel - YES!" Throwing his arms in the air and jumping to his feet, Tim cried out in triumph.

Looks like he hacked his way into Wayne-fucking-Enterprises.

"Someone tell me what the fuck is going on?"

Both of them jumped a bit at Jason's voice, and Tim's eyes widened. Suddenly, he broke into a large grin. "Jay! You're up! Took you long enough. Guess-what-I-found-an-okay-job!"

Jason blinked at the speed his brother spoke. "Slow down there, Babybird. Wha's this 'bout Wayne Enterprises?"

Tim took a deep breath. "Dick offer'd a job. Y'know, testin' the security of their syst'ms. S'not bad pay... You're okay with that... Yeah?" Tim began biting at his lip and playing with his thumbs.

Jason sighed, dropping the knife on the table. "Yeah. Yeah, s'long as they don't arrest you, 'r some stupid shit like that."

Tim grinned widely. "But," the grin faltered a bit. "That doesn't explain why he's here, Timbers." Which, really, it hadn't.

His little brother shrugged. "Ran into 'im while I was with Mr. Garrett. Dick offered me some'a the cookies in the box - which you have t' try - and I invit'd 'im here."

Jason turned his eyes heavenward. Of course he gets the trusting, soft, lovable brother. Sighing, he looked back over to Dick, who flashed him a grin. "I was about to leave anyways. Tim, I'll bring the money to you... Tomorrow? Oh and do you have the notes?"

Notes?

Tim nodded, grabbing several pages of paper filled from the first line on the front to the last one on the back with words, and handed them to Dick. "The flaw should be detect'ble with the notes."

Dick himself nodded and smiled at Tim. "That's great, Tim. Thanks. Take care, guys." And the guy was gone.

Looking back over to Tim, Jason raised a brow. A smirk made it's way onto his lips. He didn't like that Dick had been here, in his home, at all, but that's just how Timmy was. At this point, Jason was surprised they didn't have a dog or cat the kid picked up off the streets. "So. How much?"

Tim cackled at the question.