Apparently talking was out of the question, since Damian didn't utter a single sound.

"Can I step closer?" Jason asked doing that already "I'm stepping closer."

Damian stood there impassively, face blank, a hand curled around the cape that was now covering the shoulder Jason remembered being dislocated.

"Have you been living on the street?" no answer "You do remember you're filthy rich, right?"

Nothing.

Crappy time for the kid to learn to restrain himself, Jason was definitely counting on him rising to the bait.

"I'm gonna look at your shoulder." Damian inched back, so Jason talked quickly "It was dislocated and you kept dragging it around the last time I saw you, pretty messed up. You got me all worried and that's not nice. So I'm gonna check your shoulder." Jason's steps were deliberate and slow, the last thing he wanted was to scare the little – he never actually looked that little before – boy into disappearing again "And I would appreciate if you didn't stab me in the eye or something."

It was pretty nerve racking not being able to see the kid's eyes, his posture was just as stiff as ever, so it didn't help at all, but Jason kept going. He began to peel Damian's cape away from him, but the tiny fingers that were wrapped around it a second before now were in a vice-like grip on Jason's wrist. No ten-year-old should be that strong.

"I just wanna look for a second. I'm not going to touch you if you don't want me to." Damian frowned at that and faced away from Jason, who took it as – a very weird – permission to pry Damian's fingers open.

He knelt in front of the kid, watching him carefully and moving the cape back. Damian's shoulder was slightly dropped, healing, but not out of the socket anymore "I had to set my own shoulder once" he said probing the kid's arm, checking the damage "I was alone, feeling pretty goddamn stupid in those hot pants, kinda wishing my arm would just fall off… But Daddy Bats was nowhere around and the thugs kept coming. I knew what to do, still hurt like a bitch though. Did you do this yourself?"

Pretty stupid question, obviously the kid had done what he could to patch himself up with his limited resources, but if he kept talking, maybe the kid would answer.

Not this time.

There was a hiss though, and Damian grabbed Jason's index finger and twisted it back, as far as it could go, then very slowly, he kept pushing, tilting his head like a puppy – a deranged puppy – as he watched Jason's hand bend in an unnatural angle. Jason figured he must've hit some particularly painful spot during his examinations, but it didn't change the fact that the kid was seconds away from snapping his finger.

"Hey, little dude?" Jason called, making sure to keep his already strained voice calm "You're breaking my finger."

Damian's head snapped up, as if the words made him realize what he was doing, and the pressure eased considerably, even if the finger was not released just yet.

Jason wanted to say something. Needed actually, because Damian had those blank lenses staring at him and was still gripping his finger – not to mention that scabbing cut on his dirt smeared cheek – it was all so messed up…

But the moment was cut short when the big woman who was putting the trash out earlier showed up again. Holding a shotgun. Pointing directly to Jason's face.

God fucking damn it.

"Let him go." she demanded shakily and Jason wanted to bang his head on the wall.

Leave it to him and Rosemary's baby to find the only person in Gotham who is willing to care about what happens in alleys after dark.

But the really funny part was the kid. He let go of Jason's finger instantly, lifting his hands with his palms out, because he, the ten year old, was the obvious threat. Yeah.

Well aware of how he'd look if he laughed, Jason stood, giving Damian's shoulder a tentative pat before turning to the woman, making sure to shield the little one with his body.

"Lady, I'm sorry if we disturbed your evening or whatever, but we kinda need some privacy here."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Jason realized how they sounded.

"I called the cops." her hands were shaking, this could go to hell pretty quickly "Come here, sweetie." she cooed, motioning for Damian.

Sweetie. What a fucking riot. "Look, while I appreciate the lengths you're going through to make sure the sweetheart here is safe" through his peripherals, Jason saw Damian's head shooting up to probably glare at him "But since he's my baby brother, I got it covered."

Her eyes narrowed, but the grip on the shotgun became steadier. "Is that true, sweetie? You can come with me, you know? I'll help you."

Ok. Moment of truth.

Damian could live up to his counterpart from The Omen and Jason would get a face full of shotgun, or...

Big Lady lowered the gun slowly, still suspicious as she shifted her eyes from Damian to Jason and back.

"If you need me, honey, I'll be right in there" she pointed to the door, shooting Jason a dirty look before going back in.

With a sigh and a low chuckle, Jason rubbed his eyes before turning back to Damian.

… Who was not there.

"Oh, for the love of fuck." a quick sweep around showed no scowling brat whatsoever "Come on, little dude! We were getting along so well." Jason let his head hang back and stared at the sky for a moment "Fine. I'm buying you dinner tomorrow, so you better be here!"

Jason strained his ears for the answer he was sure wouldn't come, and was not disappointed.

Argh. Why did he even care?

Dick knew the nature of this game they played, this crazy thing they called life. He and Jason liked it for the thrill, not the same thrill of course, since Jason had lost it a long time ago and was now disgracing Bruce's teachings, the Robin legacy and whatever else he could get his hands on by killing people.

But he got it. The thrill of the hunt, the rush of freefalling from a rooftop before swinging into safety. That was what moved them. They might've started with other reasons in mind, hell, he could only imagine what Jason would say if asked now, but in the end, all that really mattered was that Dick and Jason understood each other in a different level.

Even if they don't agree with the other's methods; even if the Red Hood didn't realize it.

Tim and Bruce on the other hand were fuelled by something else. The adrenaline was a bonus, not the main reason, with them it was all about obsession. The mystery. Solving the clues. Putting the puzzle together.

It's what made them great. They were detectives before anything else.

Dick understood that. And this understanding was probably the only thing that was keeping him from beating the living daylights out of Tim.

Since Damian was declared missing everyone had had mixed feelings about the situation. Some thought he was just being spoiled and moody and would turn up soon. Others thought he was hurt, probably dead, and if Dick was honest with himself, they didn't seem to care either way.

At last there he was, Stephanie alongside him. Sometimes it felt like they were the only ones who cared. Truth be told, nobody – not even Steph – knew the whole truth about what happened.

Not yet, anyway, and Dick intended to keep it like that forever, if possible, but it didn't make it any easier for him to realize that all the people he cared for only tolerated Damian for being Bruce's kid.

He wasn't being a hypocrite, not really. He'd gone through that phase, sure, but now he was experiencing first hand all of Damian's evolution, all his sacrifice to do what he was just learning was the right thing to do.

It almost felt like a reversed Jason – going from deranged killer to following the Bat laws. Maybe that's why this felt so important on top of everything else.

Or perhaps Dick was reading too hard into this.

Most likely he was trying to distract himself, because every time he turned to see Tim in the same position in front of the computer, he really wanted to kick the shit out of his brother.

The monitor shone blue light onto Tim and Dick thought that if he stared hard enough, he'd be able to see the numbers and letters his brother was working on reflected on his pale face.

Red Robin wasn't patrolling anymore, his whole time was dedicated into creating a serum, a cure for… well, everything. Joker's venom, Ivy's pollen, all sorts of gases, if Tim had it his way, the whole family would be immune to it all forever.

At first Dick thought it was a nice thought, Tim was trying to make his guilt into something useful. It was an impossible feat, of course, but you know… a nice thought.

Then the obsession kicked in.

Any attempt of reasoning fell on deaf ears, Tim just kept working on his miracle formula.

"That disgusting thing… What I did to Damian" Tim would say, barely blinking "It will never happen again."

See? It's nice.

"You haven't slept in days. I can't remember the last time you ate." Dick would counter-argue "I need your help, Tim."

"I am helping."

Not really, no. But you can see the nice thoughts floating all around.

"That can wait until after we find him."

"No it can't." Tim would sigh, because they already talked about this. Many times "If Bruce had thought of it before, none of this would've even happened. This is long overdue."

And then Dick would want to flip Tim's chair and step on his neck. So Dick would leave instead.

This time, before leaving, he lingered in the doorway "Anyone called?"

"Jason."

It was pretty hysterical how Dick perked up at that "What did he say? Did he find something?"

"I dunno."

"What?"

Tim shrugged, fingers never missing a beat while typing "He was just being a jerk, calling to taunt me over Damian. Like he even knows anything."

Dick did leave then, he could deal with Tim obsessiveness later.

He had another– kind of – brother to find now. Because finding the first one had been such a cakewalk.

Jason's pretty sure Dick's after him. Batman's been hovering around Red Hoods part of town and it was seriously annoying. Come the fuck on, Bats, make up your mind. Either you want help or you don't. Jason ain't got time for this bipolar shit.

He's got a kid to feed.

The day had been slow and boring, he didn't even try to look for Damian, not in the mood for a frustrating and bound to fail search, he did check to see if he found anyone else who had been beaten by a radioactive leprechaun or anything as remotely stupid.

Turns out Damian's been a very busy – psychotic – little bee. With a cigarette between his lips, Jason pressed colorful pins on a map, marking each place one of the sorry looking bastards he'd met told him they encountered whatever violent mythical creature their scrambled brains came up with.

Funny that in a town like Gotham, people got their asses handed to them while doing unsavory activities, and they still thought it was the work of a monster instead of an unstable vigilante.

Superstitious and cowardly lot indeed.

The epicenter of his pins is the bakery. Shocking, only not.

Damian had been kicking ass and not bothering to take names while coming and going for his nightly snack. And from the way the pins were scattered, Jason suspected the kid never stayed the same place twice, in fact, he probably wasn't even sleeping, just kept moving until morning.

The crimes he'd been taking on were so small they fell under the Bats radar, stuff that happened in back alleys while the Scarecrow was proclaiming some horrifying – and somehow incredibly boring – master plan.

The kid knew his business, he didn't wanna be found but he still wanted to help people and was doing a kick ass job out of it. When he was not eating out of the trash, that is.

Still, Jason wondered as he took a drag of his cigarette: what the hell happened that first night?

The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became that none of this was just a bitch fit. Jason knew a thing or two about bitch fits, and in each and every one he had in his time as Robin, all he wanted was for Bruce to find him and take him back, not that he would ever, ever say it aloud. Ever.

And if Dick was trying to track Jason down, it was because Damian was still missing. And no one that wants to be found can hide that well.

Jason decided that if – and that was a big if – Dick caught up to him on his way to Damian, he'd tell Golden Boy everything. It didn't mean he'd make it any easier for any of that to happen.

So, Jason decided to go old school – red hoodie under a leather jacket – and hit the most obscure diner he could think of to grab a couple of burgers, fries and milkshakes.

Not exactly the healthiest of meals, but hey, after all the garbage burgers surely were an upgrade.

The route was different too, through back streets, where people don't look at you in the eye and don't care where you're going, what you're doing or who you're doing it with. Jason was proud to say he didn't look up once searching for signs of people impersonating animals.

He got there a bit later than planned, and the possibility that Damian already came and went loomed over the empty alley. Maybe the kid never showed up at all.

And wasn't it sad that Jason felt like the fat girl on prom, waiting for that little shit, knowing he was probably being stood up.

Oh well. He only hoped Big Lady had already retired for the night, 'cause that would be a crappy talk.

Dropping the bag of food, Jason slid down the wall 'till he was seated and crossed his legs at the ankles. He'd wait for as long as it wasn't pathetic, then he'd leave before he found himself with a load of Dick bitching about Jason not sharing the info.

Jason turned his face up and closed his eyes, because he already knew, even before starting, that waiting was so fucking boring, and this time wouldn't be any different.

He only forgot that Damian loved to shoot people's expectations to hell.

The slight shift of fabric was the only sign that anything had changed, and Jason tilted his head to the direction of the sound and was met with the dirtiest looking Robin he had ever seen.

He already knew that, he remembered how Damian had looked the night before, but it still baffled him.

"Hey, kid…" his voice was lowered than he expected, almost a whisper. Damian didn't move, so Jason glanced at the paper bag by his side "Dig in."

Damian shuffled closer silently and peered at the bag, frowning all along and if someone says Jason smiled at that, he'll deny it.

The kid settled beside Jason, keeping the bag between them, knees brought up to his chin, caped pulled tightly around him. Jason stopped staring as tiny fingers crept from beneath the cape inching slowly to the cooling food and turned his face upwards again.

"As a kid, I would kill for a Happy Meal." he paused to appreciate the tiny sound of Damian eating "I mean it was food that came with a toy, to me it was the second coming of Jesus wrapped in french fries. Ever had one? Guess not."

Jason droned on about Happy Meals and all the toys he only had if he managed to steal from some distracted kid. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to portray stealing being that fun, but it was. It might be wrong, but the thrill it brought was freaking amazing, the only really bad part – other than… you know, the person who had something stolen from them – was to get caught.

So he left that part out. If Damian noticed, he didn't seem to mind, just kept eating, quietly listening to Jason's babbling.

The mindless stories came to a stop when Jason realized he needed to take a breath, his fingers itched for a cigarette. He kinda expected Damian to be gone by the time he turned, but the kid was there, arms crossed over his knees, chin resting on his hand, body turned in Jason's direction, white lenses staring up. Damian rubbed his cheek on his knuckles, but otherwise stayed the same.

"Bet that mask is itching like a bitch." Jason lifted a slow hand towards Damian's face "I already know who you are and the big lady with the shotgun is probably sleeping already, so you can take it off if you want." Damian's back was stiff and straight, neck so taught Jason could see the tendons popping up, but his hand was still making way "Can I take it off for you?"

The kid's silence looked a lot like permission, so Jason fingertip touched his cold – freezing – cheek "Just don't bite my finger off, ok?"

Taking off the mask wasn't like ripping a band aid, it could be, but it would hurt like wow, so he took his time, easing it off the already irritated skin. Damian kept his eyes closed throughout the whole thing, only blinking them open when Jason gave the ok.

It was freaky how much the kid reminded Jason of Talia. Sure, there was Bruce in there, but that mouth? Talia. The whole way he carried himself, that golden hue of his skin, even the eyes, the shape and color – tough the blue looked electric in contrast to Damian's complexion – might've been Bruce's, but the way the stared, that perpetually frowny cat-like gaze? All Talia.

It gave him a queasy feeling he couldn't quite explain.

He tried to pick away most of glue left on the kid's face, but the skin was turning an angry red, so he stopped. "You ok?"

With his minute frown in place, Damian blinked his mother's ridiculously long lashes and nodded jerkily.

Jason's heart froze. That nod could've been a slap and it wouldn't have surprised Jason as much.

"That's good." he said, running a quick hand over the kid's chilled head "That's good."

Mime. He could do mime.

Nods and shakes of the head, maybe they could come up with a blinking system or something.

While his mind tried to work out a code that would work, he absently took off his jacket followed by the hoodie, only stopping when Damian moved so fast he practically teleported a few feet away.

"Hey, hey!" he called but Damian kept stepping back "Little dude…" Jason pleaded "Just… Here!" he tossed his hoodie to the kid's feet "You're freezing cold. I won't come close, just… Put that on."

Damian hesitated a bit, then picked the hoodie up. Jason mirrored his movements and got back in his jacket, painfully aware of how the boy looked even smaller in his clothes.

Unfortunately their little moment was over and Damian was about to use his ninja his way out of there. In his new gown of a hoodie.

"I'm bringing you dinner tomorrow" Jason called to Damian's retreating back "You coming?"

The Little Red Ninja Hood slowed down enough to turn and nod his yes before losing himself in the darkness.

Jason stared at the spot the kid occupied just a second ago and grinned "Fuck yeah! Progress!"

And they had a pretty sweet routine going.

Until Dick finally caught up with Jason three days later, that is.

A/N.: If any of you draw any of the JasonxDamian interaction from this chapter, I'll seriously die. (and dedicate a future chapter to the artist, of course)

Again, I'm left gushing from the awesome feedback, and I seriously hope this chapter keeps everyone's interest.

Reviews are very, very much aprpeciated.