A/N: Just an idea I wanted to try. Leave a review and tell me what you think! Hope you enjoy :)

"Come on, Jason. Please," Nightwing pleaded, standing with his arm outstretched towards the Red Hood.

"I said no. Can't you just take it and leave me the hell alone?" The Red Hood regretted his decision to work with the hero now. At the time, when he was standing in the middle of a gang war with only seconds to come up with a plan, accepting help from Nightwing didn't seem like that horrible of an idea. Mostly because Jason really didn't feel like having to dig out more than one bullet from his flesh if it came down to it, and he was sure that the older man could take care of himself.

But his initial idea of slipping away once the chaos had fallen to the bare minimum ended up not happening as he had intended. Instead, as he heard the sirens from oncoming police in the distance, he had chosen to run, thinking that Nightwing would stay and explain. However, Jason found that wasn't the case and Dick had chosen to follow him. Not in the mood to play cat and mouse, the Red Hood had clenched his jaw and turned to face the blue and black clad crime fighter.

So now, standing on the roof of a building in the dead of night, he was forced to deal with hearing his brother beg for him to pretty-pretty-please hang out with him. Jason was very much set on his answer, just as he had been sure of it the last four times that he'd heard the begging. Nightwing dropped his arm to his side and frowned, and it would have almost seemed cute if he hadn't looked so grim. "Jay, we need to talk. I need to know that you're okay."

"Just peachy," Jason replied sarcastically, "And stop using my name before I broadcast yours all over Gotham."

Nightwing paused and sighed, "Please. You keep showing up and then dropping off the face of the Earth. You're driving us all crazy and I want to help—"

"Since when do you actually care about my wellbeing? There was plenty of time for you to do that before I met the crowbar, but you didn't bother back then." Jason watched as Nightwing flinched at his words, so slight that if he hadn't been observing then he never would have noticed. A small piece of him reveled in the triumph of hurting the man, and behind his helmet his lips twitched into a dark smile.

There was silence, and then Nightwing spoke, his voice softer, defeated, "I know. I'm trying to make up for that. If you want to talk, you know how to reach me."

Jason scoffed, "Yeah, whatever."

The Red Hood turned his back, walking over to the edge of the roof. He listened, and heard Nightwing shoot his grappling, the wind rushing as he swung away. Once, Jason glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was gone, and then he growled, and the noise then dissipated into an aggravated sigh. Why couldn't Nightwing just let him be? Whatever unnecessary loyalty that the older man had developed for his estranged sibling, the feeling was not mutual. Jason was sure of that…at least he thought so. A twinge of doubt whispered that he was wrong, but he stubbornly paid it no attention.

Burnt out from the argument and the fighting, Jason sat down on the edge of the roof. He discarded his helmet, setting it next to him, and pulled out a cigarette. Lighting the end, he took a long drag and sat there, staring intently at nothing. For a while, all he focused on was smoking and the sounds of Gotham, which were unusually quiet. But nothing lasts for long, and soon Jason was broken from his staring competition with the air with an angry cry of, "Get your hands off me!"

He looked down towards the street, where three officers were apprehending a child. Seeing that, Jason got up and moved closer to the other side of the roof where he could have a better view. Two cops were restraining the child, a young boy that Jason guessed was either eleven or twelve, while the other held up a bag of chips and a bottle of water. The officer shook his head, "This is the third time this month, kid! We told you to scram!"

The boy glared, and Jason's eyebrows rose. In the boy's eyes he saw rage, any fear masked behind it. Jason knew he wasn't looking in a mirror, but it sure felt like he was seeing himself as a child. The kid even had dark hair, though his eyes were a muddy brown. His clothes were filled with holes and tears; he was a street kid just as Jason had been. He felt his heart clench, just as his jaw did. The officers knew nothing of having to survive; Jason did and pitied the kid.

"Let me go, you bastards," the kid spat, and Jason really felt like he was looking into the past. "You have your stuff back."

"Not this time," the cop holding him on his right said. "We're taking you in."

No you're not. Jason thought, throwing his cigarette and pulling his gun out of his holster. Suddenly, he had the course of adrenaline running through him. He had to save himself—that boy. He was just figuring out a way to cause a distraction, without killing anyone, when a figure darted from around the corner and yelled, "Wait!"

Including Jason, all heads turned as another boy came running up to the cops. He was older, with the same dark hair as the other child, looking thirteen or fourteen. They had to be related, Jason surmised, probably brothers. The older boy said breathlessly, "The last two times it was me! Take me in!"

The younger brother glared and hissed, "Go home you idiot!"

Clearly ignoring his sibling, the older boy looked the cops in the eye and said, "Take me, please."

Nice job, Golden Boy. Jason almost jumped at his thought. Did he just attach Dick's nickname to this kid? That was way out of proportion; this kid was not anything like him. Except for the fierce protective streak and attempt at persuading his way out of his situation...and the dark hair…

But that didn't mean anything.

A tense moment of silence occurred, and then the cop sighed and signaled for his partners to let the young boy go. They did and the officer said warningly, "Don't come around here again!"

The boys sprinted away, and Jason put his gun back in his holster and put his helmet back on. Not thinking twice about it, he hurried down from the roof and followed after the boys, trailing far enough behind that they wouldn't notice him. They were fast, anyone living on the streets had to be, but Jason could keep up easily. The kids turned around a corner, Jason trailed back as he heard their footsteps stop on the side of an apartment building. Carefully, he peered around the corner, seeing the younger one leaning against the wall, staring at the ground angrily.

The older brother stood in front of him, "What were you thinking, Jackson! That was so reckless!"

Jason had heard that one too many times to count. Jackson raised his head, glaring at his brother, "Why do you care? You suddenly changed your mind about me!"

"Since when do you actually care about my wellbeing?" Jason swallowed and slightly shook his head. No, these kids were not like him. He wanted to walk away before any other comparisons could fill his mind, but he felt rooted to the concrete.

He watched as Jackson shoved his brother backwards, "You lived with dad and had a good life! I never saw you come around to see me or mom. And now they're both gone, so why don't you just go, too, Declan?"

"Can't you just take it and leave me the hell alone?"

"I'm not leaving you," Declan reached out and put his hands on Jackson's shoulders, "I'm going to take care of you now. I never came around and that wasn't right. But I'm going to try and fix that."

"I'm trying to make up for that." Jason wanted to rip the voice out of his head and mentally screamed for it to shut up. He focused on Jackson, on the rage filled expression, which finally changed into a shake of his head.

Declan spoke quietly, pulling his brother into a hug, "I'm sorry. We're going to survive out here, don't you worry. From now on, I'm going to make sure that you're alright."

An annoyed sigh left Jackson, and Jason could tell that it was not just a peeved sigh, but an affectionate one. Declan pulled away and flashed a cheeky smile, and it took everything that Jason had to block out the image of a certain someone who had a very similar grin. For some reason, Jason found himself believing Declan. He just knew that the kid was telling the truth, he was going to be there for his brother now. Jason tried to ignore the voice in his head that told him why he knew. But it won out, and Jason was forced to face the realization; Dick had been trying to do the same thing despite the resistance on his part.

Suddenly he regretted turning down the offer to speak with his own brother.

Declan said, "Come on; let's find a place to sleep."

They turned to walk, and Jason was about to pull away, when he saw something moving in the darkness. His instincts kicked in and he jumped out, showing himself to the boys. They froze, but Jason pulled a gun as another man came from behind the kids. The boys turned around as if to run from the Red Hood, but were met with the other man, clearly Gotham's best of low life scum, raising a gun to the two. "Just hand over the little on and I'll spare your life, kid."

In response, Declan moved in front of Jackson, his arms spread out wide, shielding him. Jason almost faltered at the sight.

"Watch out!" Nightwing yelled, and Jason turned around, after breaking the arm of one of the gang members who had come at him. Gritting his teeth, he found himself the target of a man with a gun, his fingers on the trigger. He heard the shot before he actually realized that the gun had gone off.

He expected impact, but instead Nightwing jumped in front of him, arms spread out, covering him. Though Jason knew he'd be okay, that his Kevlar suit would stop the bullet from doing major damage, the grunt of pain from Nightwing sent rage that he didn't think he'd feel through his veins.

He shoved Nightwing aside, raised his gun, and fired…

Jason saw the man crumble and blinked. His finger had pulled the trigger, and Declan and Jackson had spun around to face him. The fear in their eyes was evident, and Jason put the gun back in its holster and held up his hands. "I wouldn't have shot him if I was aiming for you two."

Neither of them were harmed, and slowly Jason dropped his hands. "Do you have a place to stay?"

Declan looked at him, suspicion on his face. Jackson had squirmed under his arm and now stood beside his brother, examining Jason up and down. He deemed quicker than Declan that it was alright to speak and Jackson said, "My mom's apartment."

"No parents?" Jason already knew, but he waited for their nod to confirm. "I've got a better idea."

The boys were skeptical, but Jason was able to convince them to follow him. He didn't normally do this, but he couldn't let Dick and—Declan and Jackson live on the streets for long. Escorting them around the city, he pointed to an apartment in the more decent part of Gotham. He'd been scoping out here for a while, when he had gotten a tip that there were drug dealers posing as good citizens around the area. But that wasn't the point; he had noticed while here that there was a young couple who loved children, but didn't have any of their own.

Giving the boys instructions, he brought them inside the building and then hung back in the shadows as they went forwards. Declan reached up and knocked on the door, and Jason started down the stairs. He heard the door open behind him, heard Declan speaking and Jackson insisting that he was fine. Jason walked slow, smirked at the curses that left Jackson's mouth, Declan's apology for his brother's behavior. On the last step he heard the boys being ushered inside and the door closed.

Taking a deep breath, Jason went outside, and leaned against the building. He took his helmet off once more, once he was sure he was alone, and stared up at the sky. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and dialed, knowing the number perfectly even though he had never used to before. Maybe he'd kick himself for this later; relying on a stupid coincidence to guide his actions. But right now, he was taking the risk.

It took three rings, and then a groggy but surprised voice said, "Jason?"

"Hey, Dick," Jason replied, malice from earlier gone from his voice. He said it casually, but meaningful. "Let's talk."