The Invisible Ones

A Word: My entry for AU Sunday of JayTim week on Tumblr. Technically pre-slash though.

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The first time Jason sees him is at night.

The sleaze bag mom had brought home had gotten her the good stuff, but had given it all up far too fast. Most douche bags fed it to her slow. Exchanging just a bit for something they wanted. Stringing out their supply to get the most from her. Not this guy. This one just gave the whole shebang over without asking for anything. His sick fucking eyes darting to where Jason was lurking in the door to the bedroom. The way he licked his lips was enough of a warning for Jason to open the window and get the fuck out of there.

It's not the first time Jason's wandered the streets at night to get away. The prostitutes ruffle his hair when he passes them, and pull him into their huddle for warmth. Mindy even fishes out a stale stick of gum from the mess of wrappers and tissues in her purse. Jason wastes a few hours listening to the women talk about the shit going down at the docks, and bitch about the cold snap Freeze caused that'd made the previous week so miserable for them. He fades back into the shadows of an alley when the banged up cars do their slow roll by and the women sashay for the Johns.

Jason's waiting for a stone faced man to make a choice or roll the fuck away when he sees him. A boy in a faded gray hoodie across the street. He's walking slowly but purposefully. Head up in a way that no kid that small should be doing. Especially at night. Jason almost leaves his hiding spot because no way should some kid that young be out alone. Jason's done it a few times himself, and knows exactly how bad an idea it is. It's why he sticks with the hookers so closely.

Thing is, no one's paying a bit of attention to the boy. Jason's nearly out of the shadows he's hiding in before he notices that. The women don't look at him and the cars cruising the street don't slow as they pass him. It's eerie. As sick as these Johns are and as paranoid as the women get, someone should be eying the kid. Someone should have reached out and ruffled his hair. Someone should have slowed down and tried to pick him up.

They don't.

The kid turns and Jason can see his face. Small, pale face with eyes a sharp enough blue that Jason can see them even across the damn street. Blue eyes that are locked firmly upward. Scanning the rooftops of the buildings as the boy side steps Mindy who's bending to get into the stone faced man's car. His right arm brushing hers firmly enough that she has to feel it, but she just doesn't react. At all.

Jason's out of the alley even before the car can drive away, but by the time he gets across the street the boy is gone. Jason's left on the street feeling oddly like he just missed something really important.

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The second time Jason sees him is months later.

Long enough that he should have forgotten him. Put those blue eyes and pale face out his mind as just another person swallowed up by the city. He can't though, and Jason finds himself wandering the streets at night more. Venturing farther and farther from home. Leaving his mother to the embrace of whatever drug she can afford as he looks. Searching for a small boy no one seems to see.

His mom overdoses on one of those nights and Jason gets an eyeful of her still body before he's hustled out and into a foster home that won't let him out at night. Jason listens for a few days, but by the end of the second he's so restless to go looking he breaks a bathroom window and crawls out. Hitting the streets and looking. For a boy and for a new home.

Jason doesn't find the boy but he finds a storage unit on top an apartment building that doesn't look used. A hole in the rotted through wood wall just big enough for Jason to squeeze through and sleep most of the day away. Getting up just long enough to go out and make a living the only way he knows how. Stealing and pickpocketing a familiar habit from the time his mom had decided the drugs were more important than the groceries.

It's night and Jason's looking, but not for the boy. His shoes are wearing too thin to be any use and Jason needs some good money to get himself a new pair. A larger sized pair because he's starting to grow and the pair he has pinch terribly. He's out looking for an opportunity. Something big or shiny enough to make him some quick cash when he stumbles across the Batmobile.

Jason's never seen it before, never seen Batman, but he knows it by sight anyway. Everyone in Gotham does. Jason gapes for a moment. Half in panic because while the big man isn't known for wailing on kids like he does adults, he is known for not being entirely gentle. Jason stands there for a minute. He only needs half that time to decide to get a few blocks away, put some distance between him and the car in the hopes he won't run into the man. Thirty seconds to come up with a rational and smart plan he should really follow.

The other thirty seconds are spent noticing something looks off about the wheels of the car.

Jason leaves the block and comes back not five minutes later with a jack and a rusted tire iron that he's shocked as hell to find actually fits the exposed lug-nuts on the tire. And what the hell? Jason's never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It takes a minute to get rid of the nuts and work the tire free. It's heavier than any tire he's dealt with before, but that makes sense considering what car he's taking it off of. Jason's managed to tug it onto the sidewalk and is starting to roll it away when the night becomes heavier and utterly still in a way he needs no experience with to know.

Busted. Jason grins, the grin he's learned to throw behind him when he's had to run or dodge. All teeth with just enough smug sneer to piss off whoever was after him. Throw them off with anger just enough to gain that extra second he needs to get the hell away. Batman isn't effected in the least and Jason finds himself pulling against a steel grip as the scary as fuck man drags Jason away.

In the split second between leaving the sidewalk and being pushed into the car Jason sees the kid. Right behind Batman and looking at them both through the lens of a camera. Pale, bony fingers curl around the camera that hides his eyes, but Jason knows it's the same boy. Jason hears the click of it but Batman doesn't react at all even as Jason starts struggling harder. Cursing as he looses his balance to a hard shove and the door closes. Jason scrambles up. Hands searching for a handle that just isn't there even as Batman folds himself into the drivers side.

The boy is already gone, and Jason doesn't see him even as the car starts up and pulls away. Leaving Jason with something far bigger to worry about.

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Robin sees the boy far more often than Jason ever did.

The whole thing with Batman, with Bruce, is as terrifying as it is wonderful. Months after becoming the next lost little boy in the Wayne house Jason's still reeling. Still adjusting to his new life. Adjusting to the fact that he has... people now who care about him.

It's grating and stifling even as Jason finds himself unable to not drink it all in. Bruce's gruff concern as he carefully put firmly turns Jason into someone better, and Jason can almost hear the word "son" lurking behind the man's lips. Alfred's silent guidance and care that really shouldn't come from someone who insists they're nothing more than a servant. Dick's prickly demeanor that melted way too fast into personal space invading hugs that still make Jason want to run the hell away.

Robin helps. It's an outlet for Jason to take advantage of. A safe way to strike out at the fear he feels when Bruce says he's proud. The sick nausea that creeps up on him when Alfred smiles indulgently as he sets Jason down for tea and little cakes. The panic that comes up every time Dick holds a hug -just a hug and nothing else, not even when they spar and Dick gets Jason in a hold- for just a little too long.

No one says anything when Robin knocks the teeth out of a pimp beating his women. No one's feeling are hurt when Robin breaks a would-be rapist's arm. No one tries to ask Robin what's wrong when he bounces the head of some drug pusher off the ground once or twice. Robin is expected to be violent and a little bloody at the end of the night, and Jason takes full advantage of it. Expelling as much of the bad shit swimming around in his head as he can on patrol.

It doesn't always work, but he tries.

The boy pops up just as Jason's getting a good handle on being Robin. Getting good enough to venture a little further from B's shadow. To fly a little on his own. Jason catches a glimpse of the hooded boy on a rooftop, a block away. The hood is the same and the blocky thing in his hands is camera shaped enough for Jason to not question his certainty. By the time Robin swings onto the roof though the boy is gone. No trace of him as usual, and that's how it goes for far too long.

Patrols are a slideshow of violence and flying interspersed with sightings of the boy. Too far away for Jason to catch and always gone when he tries anyway. It's frustrating and starting to tick Jason off. He pays closer attention on patrols, trying to catch the flash of the boy sooner. Trying to get to him faster, but it doesn't work.

Bruce congratulates Jason on getting more better though.

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Jason Todd-Wayne sees the boy just once.

Parties as a Wayne suck. Jason hates the public mask B wears almost as much as the formal clothes Alfred insists Jason wears. The manners that he must follow, and the smile he must give to any of the snobby elite who bothers to glance at him. Dick cackles madly when Jason complains and tells him to suck it up. If a circus freak could hack it then a street kid should have no problem playing the part of rescued charity case.

Jason lurks in corners and empty rooms whenever possible. Playing along with the charade only when he has no choice. Sneaking off with platters of food and a carefully hidden bottle of whatever alcohol was being served. He's eying a platter of fancy cheeses and bread at one of the million charity galas that Jason is damn sure don't actually do anything for the cause they supposedly support when he sees the boy.

The crowd in the room moves and Jason can see him standing against a wall. He's dressed in a fine suit that makes his skin look even paler, and is watching the room with a blank expression. Women flutter past him and waiters look right over his head. His eyes are the same blue, his face every bit as intent as all the other times Jason's been close enough to make it out as more than a blur.

Jason's moving before he can think. Skirting the dance floor and evading the pointed exclamations of, "My isn't that the Wayne boy?" that Alfred insists he always acknowledge. Jason's sight is blocked occasionally, and he tenses every time. Sighing when the people move and the boy is still there. Unacknowledged by anyone and unaware that Jason's closing in on him. The boy turns and for a moment Jason's looking him right in the eye and he's looking back.

"Jason!" Bruce is an impenetrable wall, his hand like iron on his shoulder. "There you are, my boy. You simply must come see this."

A protest passes Jason's lips but Bruce has Jason out the door and onto a barely lit balcony over a garden before Jason has time to fight off his grip. Jason looses sight of the boy immediately as Bruce swings the double doors shut, his face grim as the night sky lights up behind Jason. Too bright for anything natural, and Jason can see movement under the new light when he spins around.

It shouldn't be so surprising that Ivy would chose to crash a charity event aimed at retaking land she has a solid claim on.

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It's years later that Jason sees him again in the streets of Gotham.

Jason's watching a dirty little diner with no name on the edges of Crime Alley from a rented room across the street. He's hanging halfway out the window, letting a cigarette burn to ash in his fingers. His barely worn mask and shiny new guns laid out on the musty smelling bed behind him as he counts the runners and low level thugs going in and out of the place. Putting faces and names together with the help of the bug he'd planted earlier.

It's all information gathering. Confirming the facts that Talia gave him because Jason's not stupid. No way in hell is he going to set anything into motion until he gets a better feel for the city. Not until he has all the variables accounted for will he go after them. Batman, Nightwing, and-

Jason brings the stick up to his mouth and takes a pull on it. Liking the way it burns and his lungs shudder with a harshly repressed need to cough the smoke all out. The filter bends in his fingers and Jason flicks it out into the street. Letting the smoke go in a harsh puff of air.

A fucking replacement. Some little fuck who was conned into putting on the Robin suit and smiling the Robin smile. Doing the same old dance that every Robin did and probably not knowing how very dangerous it all was or how very unsuited for the job of replacing Jason he was. At least Bruce hadn't adopted this one. Jason laughs, eyes tracking the arc of the cigarette as it lands almost right on top of a kid wearing a green hoodie.

The lanky teenager flows to the right, avoiding the smoking butt and doesn't look up at all. Keeps his head down and trudges down the street. Something familiar catches Jason's attention and he sits up straight. Leaning further out the window to track the kid.

There's a group of annoying as shit gang kids on a stoop, harassing everyone out of boredom. Not a single one of them gives the kid a glance. Not even as he steps over their outstretched legs. One hand almost brushing the mouthiest fucker. Jason's swinging out the window in a flash. Catching the rusty ladder beside the window and getting up on the roof.

He follows the kid on the roofs. He's sure it's the boy. The same one he's seen so many times before he died, but he wants to be sure. He's not sure why but he needs to be sure.

The kid only looks up when he settles in against the sign of a bus stop. Head swinging up to reveal a changed but still familiar face. Blue eyes scanning the street. Staring people straight in the eye and not getting one lick of acknowledgment in return. Jason checks the urge to jump down into the alley and run out to the bus stop.

He's got a line into one of the busiest information hubs in the area in his ear. Can still hear the rheumy eyed geezer that runs it dealing with clients. His weapons and helmet are back in the room that really is only secure until his money runs out in five hours. That's all more important than the kid he doesn't know on the street below him.

No. The kid he's known most of his life, but who doesn't know Jason at all on the street below him.

The urge to go down there and change that is strong enough to make him twitch, and Jason regards it with suspicion for probably the very first time in his life. Like he should've done the first night his dumb ass had taken to walking the streets looking for this nameless kid that no one else seemed to ever see. Which is weird as hell even by Gotham standards.

A bus pulls up before Jason can think much more on it, and the kid shuffles on behind a tired looking woman. The bus pulls away even before the kid can slot some change in, and Jason's pretty sure he could've skipped that and the driver never would have noticed.

Jason watches the bus turn a corner and squashes the urge to follow. His back teeth grind down in a way that makes it feel like he's chewing dirt, and the memory of how that tastes follows Jason all the way back to the room.

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As if to make up for the long absence, Jason sees the kid again the very next day.

Jason's a carefully calculated distance from the manor. Well out of range of the sensors Bruce has surrounding the place. He's not expecting much in the way of information as he settles in on the roof of the closest building to the manor. He spots Alfred through a set of binoculars. Sweeping the front steps of the manor and Jason has to look away and ignore the knot that lodges itself at the base of his throat. It's chance and nothing more that lets Jason catch the slight movement when he looks away.

It's the kid. Not wearing a hoodie but carrying a bag and trudging up the long drive of the building that's too small to be a proper manor house. The place owned by some rich business man and his wife who were off in some foreign country, and only hired a single housekeeper to come by once a day early in the mornings. Jason quietly moves to the edge of the roof and watches as the kid pulls out a single key. He has to lean out further to watch him open the front door. Nonchalantly, like he did it everyday.

There's something different about this, and Jason doesn't think as he backs up and rolls over the opposite edge of the roof. Fingers catching on the window he'd opened just after the hired help left for the day. He touches a finger to the side of his helmet, adjusting for the dimmer light inside the stuffy museum that the rich couple call home as he silently makes his way into the hallway of the upper floor.

The kid doesn't make a sound either, and if Jason hadn't just seen him enter he'd doubt anyone was in. The bag is by the front door though. Tucked neatly next to a pedestal holding something that looks like it should be surrounded by airtight glass. The kid isn't anywhere in sight, but a faint noise draws Jason down a smaller hallway. Just to the side of the larger and more grandiose rooms. The servants area.

Laundry, cellar stairs, and- Kitchen.

The kid's pouring some juice into a glass. His back to the door and Jason as he maneuvers through the area with familiarity. Hardly making a noise even as he sets a plate down on the counter and returns to the shiny fridge that takes up more space than it should.

And before Jason can do the smart thing and get the hell out of the house he's looking the kid in the eyes for the second time in his life. He's got to be fifteen, maybe fourteen. A couple years younger than Jason. He just looks younger with that surprised look on his face. The one Jason's probably wearing as well.

"I paid damn good money to make sure this place was empty," the plaintive words escape Jason's mouth before the silence drags on too long, and well before Jason's figured out what he's going to do.

The kid jerks, like he's startled. Eyes darting around in a way that Jason'd usually chalk up to someone looking for an exit, but he's seen this kid around often enough to think the kid's trying to see who Jason's talking to. The kid turns an almost comically baffled look onto Jason as he takes a few slow steps to the left. Away from the door that Jason knows leads outside. He stops cold when Jason turns his head to keep him in sight, and if his eyes get any wider they're going to roll right out, "Oh."

Oh. Jason steps into the kitchen and stalks towards the kid who doesn't move. Just watches him with something like wariness and fascination. There's not one iota of fear to be found when Jason stops, well within striking range. He knows he's intimidating as fuck with the helmet and the guns he carries openly, but the kid just looks up the four or five inches Jason has on him and stares.

"Who the fuck are you?" Jason snarls. An equal mixture of anger and confusion, because he's found the boy and he's not disappearing for once. "You- You were everywhere and no one ever saw you! Not even when you touched them!"

The kid's blue eyes are dazed looking and there's -finally!- a hint of terror in them. His face is even paler if that was possible. "You saw- you-"

"Batman! You were right behind him and that fucker didn't even know it!" Jason continues, anger giving way to confusion and turning into frustration. Jason's fingers slam into the helmet as he goes to tug on his hair. The mask is suddenly too dark, too close, and he can't see as well as he'd like. He raps his knuckles smartly against the material before sliding his finger under the edge, fumbling. "You took a picture! How did he not notice? How can no one ever notice? Why-"

Jason hits the lock on the mask and pulls it off. The cool air of the kitchen cooling his frustration a bit. The lenses of the domino he's taken to wearing as back up still block some light, but it's better this way. Easier to see the details he's never been close enough to see before. The faint blue of veins too close to the surface along the backs of the kid's hands and his wrists. A smudging of darkness under his eyes that is way too mild for Jason to believe the kid isn't using some sort of makeup to cover some serious bags. The way his eyes look like fucking gems when they're not looking elsewhere.

The kid is silent as Jason takes it in, his eyes still and fixed instead of fluttering around. One hand comes up and almost reaches out before the motion is aborted. Thin fingers flexing in the air. A look of fucking wonder crosses his face as he whispers, "Jason?"

The helmet crashes loudly onto the stone floor. Hard enough that he's probably screwed something up in it, but Jason doesn't give a fuck about that. Doesn't give a fuck about anything except for the fact that the kid. This damn kid, knows his name. Knows his face. Jason bites back a laugh because he knows if he gives into that he won't be stopping anytime soon, and that's a bit too close to the sound that haunts his dreams for comfort.

"How-" the demanding words are thick in Jason's mouth, as he takes a step forward. Nearly touching the kid who doesn't have the sense to back away. Jason shakes his head and forgets that line of questioning immediately. There's more important things to ask here. "Who are you?"

"Tim," the kid answers in a small voice that is as wondering as his look had been. His head is tilted back at an angle that has to be uncomfortable and he isn't blinking. At all. "You're dead, Jason. I went to your grave today."

Jason shudders minutely, but he's close enough to the kid -to Tim- that he has to feel it. "I came back," he says grimly and then wrestles with all the questions he needs answered. A thousand different things that fight to get out of his mouth first. "Why doesn't anyone see you?"

"I-" Tim blinks and it's obvious and sudden as he turns his head away. Not quite looking away from Jason though. "I don't know. It's always been that way. I'm here but no one notices unless," Tim gives a fragile looking smile, "unless I'm someone else."

"How the fuck does that work?" Jason asks, confused as fuck because Tim isn't making much sense.

"It's complicated, but," Tim's eyes narrow as he shifts through something in his mind, "they see me a little if I'm the Drake Kid. They see me as that when they want to because the Drake Kid isn't me. It's, it's a mask, so they see that mask and kind of see me with it."

Drake is the name for the rich couple, Jason remembers vaguely. No information he's pulled up has given any indication that they have a kid. "That doesn't make a damn bit of sense, Tim."

Tim makes a low sound and gives Jason a look of utter surprise. And awe. So much awe it's making him uncomfortable. The look melts right off the kid's face and gives way to a determined look. "It's like with Batman. When he wears the cowl people see Batman. They don't see anyone else. When he's wearing Brucie," Jason goes very still at the mention of Bruce, but isn't all that surprised, not after the kid busted out his name, "that's all the public sees. They're both masks that people see and interact with, but they're not really Bruce, are they? No one sees the real Bruce, except for family."

Jason says nothing as Tim looks up and searches his face for something.

"It's the same with me," Tim finally continues, and his voice is so sad, so resigned. "Just more literally because not even my family can see me if I'm not wearing one of my masks."

It still doesn't make any sense to Jason, but he's past that now. He's born and raised Gotham, and weird shit is part and parcel of that. A breath shudders into Jason's lungs as he eases back from the unconsciously threatening loom he's pulled on Tim. "I see you."

"I thought you did, but," Tim's face screws up into a mix of embarrassment and ruefulness, "I didn't want to ask and find out I was wrong."

Jason doesn't have a thing to say about that. He stands there and stares down at Tim who looks back at him with the same blankness that makes Jason think the kid doesn't know what else to say either. Jason's known Tim for what feels like most of his life. Seen him from a distance and hunted him down in the streets. For reasons he's still not sure about even now that he's talking to him.

Tim has also known Jason. Maybe for as long as Jason, but probably not. He saw Jason get picked up by Batman, had probably seen Jason get adopted by Bruce Wayne, seen him flying through the air as Robin, and lost in the crowd of rich parties. Jason wonders if Tim had been an unremarked space at his funeral too. Probably if he was still visiting Jason's grave so long after his death.

"Why can you see me?" Tim asks and the way his voice sounds makes Jason realize how very important the answer to the question is to him.

Jason feels guilty that he can only give one answer, "I don't know."

Tim reaches out and cautiously curls his hand through one of the straps of his holsters. He looks at it intently. His hand, or maybe the holster. "Would you stay, just a little while?"

There's more questions to ask, more things to tell, but Jason's not thinking about any of that as he nods. Reaching up to grip Tim's wrist. Thumb running up the fragile looking bones of his hand and catching on some surprising callouses. The positioning of them familiar and far too telling.

Masks.

The expected anger doesn't come as the pieces fall together. A wall of pictures that Jason hadn't even connected to Tim despite the fact that he's a dead ringer for the lanky Robin with a razor smile, because that was just a mask to Tim.

Jason's suddenly and completely exhausted of it all. He's been up and down the goddamn mountain of emotion way too much. He doesn't want to do it again, not with Tim who's still looking at Jason like he's something precious and special. Someone who sees him, the first person to see him in his entire life. And that's not something that Jason wants to deal with either. Not tonight. Probably not ever.

"Alright," Jason agrees aloud and follows Tim into a side room. Small and cluttered with books and things that Jason doesn't pay attention to as he lays himself out on a couch in the corner. Tim settles himself into a comfortable looking computer chair across from him. They stare at each other until Jason closes his eyes and falls asleep.

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Jason sees Tim everyday.

It's easy to settle into the mansion with the kid. Pick out one of the many unused guest rooms and set himself up. Disappear when the house keeper makes her two hour pit stop to clean the messes they don't make, and stock the fridge with food when needed. The Drake's leave short messages on the answering machine. Dropping country names as they travel and never once calling Tim by name.

Tim wanders the house most days, jumping in surprise each time Jason speaks to him, and Jason doesn't think the startled look will ever go away. School apparently marks him as in attendance whether or not he's actually in his seat. His Drake Kid mask working even without Tim having to be present, and that smacks of magic to Jason. Tim shrugs it off. Apathetic as he tells Jason how he's stopped trying to figure it out.

Robin goes out every night. Red Hood follows him from the minute he separates himself from Batman. Jason watches Tim interact with the city through the Robin mask. Watches him quietly take down criminals, some of whom seem to be looking at something that isn't there. Their hits going wider than being dumb fucking thugs who can't fight can account for. Tim's quick and vicious. No move is wasted and he's all efficiency as he ties them up and reports them. Some of the mouthier ones snap as Tim steps back. Biting back against something that Tim hasn't said but they hear anyway. A few even continue to carry on a fight long after Tim's flown away.

It's weird as fuck to watch.

"Sometimes Robin shows up on the opposite side of the city," Tim admits when Jason catches up to him after one particularly disturbing one-sided shout fest. They sit in the shadow of a grimy billboard listening to sirens split the night. "Or in two different places at once. It makes writing up reports interesting when I don't even know what I've supposedly done all night."

"That's impossible," Jason frowns and leans back. Tracking the silhouettes of a family in a nearby complex through their thin curtains. "How the fuck does that even work? They knock themselves around before tying themselves up?"

Tim shrugs and carefully folds the metallic wrapper of some pasty looking granola bar into a tiny square that disappears into his belt. "I really don't know. All I know is they get some bruises and they end up in jail," Tim smiles with no small bit of humor. "There's recordings of the call in for those. Everyone hears me on them, but it's always one of the people being arrested calling themselves in."

Jason believes it.

They split up. Tim to continue Robin's patrol and Jason to meet a few contacts Red Hood's been paying off. Joker's been sighted. Lurking at the edges of the city and planning something. Jason puts the fear into some people and gets a feel of where to start looking for the psychotic fuck. It's several steps forward in his plan and he ends the night pleased. Retreats to his room at the Drake mansion for an early night. Tim still out on patrol and then due for a few hours hanging out in the Cave with Bruce.

Tim brought up Jason telling Bruce that he was back once and never again. It's something they don't talk about. One of a few things.

Jason wakes once before the sun rises. A half-remembered dream of green light and graveyard dirt chasing him as he opens his eyes to see the door open. Tim's leaning against it, a featureless shadow watching him sleep. Jason stares back as his mind dumps the last of the unremembered nightmare before turning to put his back to the door. "Go to sleep, fucking freak."

Jason doesn't budge when the mattress behind him dips just a bit. The bed's more than big enough for them both to sprawl out across it without touching after all.

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Jason watches Tim walk into the smoky warehouse behind a trio of gangbangers.

He's Tim now because no one pays him the slightest bit of attention despite the fact that everyone is on edge. Looking for any sign of treachery as three of the largest factions in Gotham try to hammer out an understanding. Red Hood is an observer here. Looking to see how it's all going to go down.

Poorly, he thinks, as Tim slips a gun into the back pocket of a few members from each side. The men don't notice Tim's touch. One even reaches back to adjust his gun more comfortably. As if it's something that he decided to bring to this unarmed meeting. The results are predictable, and the factions are splitting apart in a bloody brawl even as Tim slips out the door he entered in. A few shots go off.

Jason slips out a different way. Not surprised to hear sirens getting closer.

That night when he wakes up to find Tim watching him, he asks, "You ever kill someone, Tim?"

Because it would be easy for the kid to do. Easy for him to get in and out, and never get caught. None of the masks Tim wears are murderers, but Tim has never recoiled from the implications Jason's dropped about himself. About his plans. Never judged him or tried talking about it. Just accepted it, and Jason doesn't think it's because the kid doesn't want to get confrontational over it.

Silence stretches between them. Long and tense. Jason stays awake long enough to watch Tim carefully shut the door between them. His soft footsteps retreating down to the room he's barely slept in since Jason moved in.

It's another thing they end up not talking about.

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Jason doesn't see Tim the night Batman and Nightwing corner him.

The helmet cracks from the force of the B's punch, and Jason flings it off with a frustrated growl. It's too soon. Too fast. Joker's still skulking on the edges of Gotham and the deals he has are almost ready to go through. Almost ready, but Jason should have known better. Batman never plays by anyone's plans.

Jason rolls to his feet. Angry and ready to spit fire into his family's face. Ready to hit them with the truth of his death and his life. His words come out in a pained grunt as Nightwing plants a solid boot in his gut, and Jason has to dodge to stay out of Batman's reach. Grabbing the gun he'd dropped earlier he has to empty it at the two men to get them to back off and give him some space.

"Red Hood," Batman shifts, sending a look to Nightwing that Jason knows. One of them is going to start talking and the other is going to try to blind side him. It's a simple tactic that usually works far too well for it being the oldest trick in the book. It won't work on Jason, he used to be part of that tactic. Jason's honestly confused for all of five seconds when Nightwing opens his mouth to say something biting and inevitably sarcastic. For five seconds he doesn't see it, doesn't see the problem.

But then he does. Jason throws his head back and laughs. Both men look at him grimly and Jason keeps laughing because this is his life.

There's no recognition on either of their faces. Bruce and Dick are looking at him like he's a total stranger. There's no flinch when he rips off the domino and lets them see his whole face. Jason's changed, but not so much that he's unrecognizable. Tim proved that weeks ago. There's nothing though in their faces. Jason can't follow their eyes but Dick's head is angled just far enough to the right that Jason knows the man isn't looking at him anymore.

"I'm Jason Todd," Jason says as he steps left. Circling around the two men. They don't follow him. Jason can see Batman palming something from his belt, and Nightwing tilts his head as if he's listening to something. Something that obviously isn't Jason.

Jason lunges and grabs Dick's shoulder. He gets a hand around him before Dick's darting forward. Shouting something that Jason doesn't hear because they can't see him.

Not without a mask.

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Tim sees Jason a week later sitting on a bench of a street crowded with stores.

Tired mothers with fussy children roam by looking for a place to park their crying kids down. Walls and ledges are occupied and sitting space is at a premium. No one stops by the bench Jason's on. No one looks his way or gives him a nasty glare for taking up space. A group of teenaged boys trip over Jason's outstretched legs, and turn on each other. Pushing one another and not sparing so much as a curse for Jason.

"I'm sorry," Tim says as he sits next to him. A careful twelve inches of space between them. Remarkable only because Tim hasn't shown any acknowledgment of personal space before now. "I didn't think..."

Jason reaches out and drags the kid toward him. Pulling until Tim's pressed up against his side. A warm presence that can see him. Jason's starting to get why Tim has been looking at him like he's something special now.

Jason's voice is hoarse still from the day he spent roaming the streets. Raging into the face of people who look right through him. From the solid hour Jason'd spent laughing because it just fucking figures. "Fuck that noise, Tim. Just fuck it."

Tim doesn't say anything else, but Jason can feel the guilt radiating off the kid in waves. Jason drops an arm over his shoulder and pinches him viciously. Smiling grimly at the yelp and shove that gets him.

Jason's not angry. Not anymore. He's got that outta his system and is well on his way to just dealing with the newest bit of shit that life has decided to throw his way. It sucks but Jason's not going to let it stop him. He's still got plans to carry out. He just has to alter them.

"Least you can still see me," Jason says, ending the conversation and putting this in the same pile as everything else they never talk about.

.

.

Red Hood sees Robin at night flying above the streets as he spins plots and traps around Joker and Batman. He sees the Drake Kid charming the public as he follows behind his inattentive parents and passes right under Bruce's eyes. Jason sees Tim every night and every morning as they inhabit the mansion around the oblivious Jack and Janet Drake.

Jason wakes up in the early hours of the morning with Tim a warm weight across his chest. His fingers stretching out the neck of Jason's shirt. The busy sound of the Drakes racing out of the mansion to catch a long delayed flight to deal with some business in Haiti.

Jack curses as he trips over something in the hallway. Probably the helmet that had slipped from Jason's tired fingers last night, and neither of them had been assed enough to pick back up. "Damn rug!"

Jason smirks as he closes his eyes again. He's getting used to being invisible, getting used to the things he can do with it. Tim's promised to build him a new mask using Batman's resources. A social construct he can use with the Red Hood mask.

All in all, Jason thinks as he drifts back to sleep easing his breath to match Tim's, it's not that bad.

.

.