Well Met, Again

A Word: The-Batcow wanted JayTim with them meeting when Jason was Robin, and then Jason remembering it later. I have nothing else to justify this.

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Robin's tracking an annoying tail when he turns a sharp corner around an honest to god chimney stack and gets a flash of light to the face. Jason will admit to the stumble that sends him ass backwards to the roof, but he'll refuse to his dying day the startled squawk he made. It's instinct older than his green panties that makes Jason scramble back. Getting his hands up even though all he can see are spots, and all he can hear is the wind tearing through Gotham.

Robin's tense and ready to take on whoever's been following him since the docks when a young voice starts stammering, "I'm- I'm sorry! I thought you were trying to- I didn't know it was you behind me! I'm sorry!"

Jason blinks away the last of the spots and finds himself squinting at a tiny, freaked out kid. A pale face and even paler eyes swimming in worn looking clothes that look right for the area. Bony fingers fidgeting with a camera that looks all wrong for the streets they're above. "What the hell, kid?"

"I, heard you behind me and I thought," the kid shrugs and his face is going purple from how hard he's flushing. It's funny as hell and Jason's be rolling in laughter if he wasn't still trying to fit all the pieces together. "I- I didn't know it was you! I wouldn't have, I mean if I know you don't-"

The kid knows he doesn't. The kid knows Robin doesn't. Jason rolls to his feet and now he's towering over the kid who falls silent and fiddles with his freaking professional looking, expensive as hell camera. Above one of the most heavily mugged streets in the city. "How old are you, kid?"

The kid doesn't look up as he mumbles, "You probably don't want to know that actually."

Christ. And this kid's been following him -on foot?- since the docks? "What's your name?"

"Tim," the boy answers. Tentative and shy as he looks up at Jason. Not a hint of a lie in sight.

"Well, Timmy," the kid winces a little, barely noticeable, "Tim. How many shots did you manage to get of me with that thing?"

"Um," Tim shrugs and clicks a dial or something on the lens. "A few. Maybe five good ones. I won't know until I develop the film how many are too blurry."

Damn, Bruce was going to have a fit about this. Pictures were always bad news. "Yeah," Jason kept his voice light and friendly, "you get one of me nailing that creeper on the docks?"

"No, I couldn't get close enough," Tim shuffles a little closer. Eyes flickering over Jason rapidly. An honest curiosity in them that makes Jason want to show off a bit. "I have some from the last time you knocked him out though. Last month?"

"Last month?" Jason flat out gapes at the kid. How the hell long had this kid been following him? Wait, last month. "Batman was with me then."

"Um, yes?" Tim says, taking a slow step back at something in Jason's face.

"You have pictures of Batman?" Jason's voice may or may not have rose embarrassingly, but he's entitled to his shock. Batman had his picture taken by some kid stalker and he didn't know about it a full month after the fact. Something like that he would have told Jason, and he sure as hell wouldn't have allowed it to continue happening if he knew about it. "How many?"

"Some? A few!" Tim answers far too quickly. A look of panic crossing his face and Jason automatically edges between the kid and the fire escape. "Not that many, really. Comparatively."

As compared to what? The rest of the world that only had police sketch artist depictions or blurry shadow pictures? "Uh huh," Jason grins as the kid shuffles a little. Turning bright red again. "And how long have you been taking these "few" pictures of us?"

Tim looks right over Jason's shoulder at the ladder with such obvious longing that Jason almost laughs. A couple months then, the kid was scary good if he's managed to escape Batman's notice that long. Jason's looking forward to pointing this out to Bruce when Tim says, "Two years?"

Jason stares at the kid until he starts squirming again, "Are you shitting me? Two years? I haven't even been-" Jason shuts his mouth on the stunned words. Hearing his teeth click sharply.

"You haven't been Robin for more than a year," Tim finishes for him, and he looks a little proud as he says it. "I, um, I noticed."

"Holy shit," sure, people had to have noticed that Robin shrunk a foot or two and was suddenly a lot more aggressive and less bendy, but no one had the balls to point it out to him or Bruce. Especially not with the threat of actual pictures to back up those words. "That's, kinda scary to hear, Tim."

Jason's kinda reeling. He hadn't had much of an idea of what to do from the second he saw he was dealing with a kid beyond grabbing the film and telling him off. An idea that'd just been torpedoed when Tim admitted to having multiple pictures of not just Robin but Batman. Pictures that went back about two years apparently. Jason was floundering. Just a bit.

"I," Tim looked suddenly unsure. The bit of pride draining right from his face as he went back to playing with his camera. "I don't share them. The pictures, I mean. I develop it all myself and keep them hidden. I don't. I won't show anyone else."

The kid sounded so earnest about it all that Jason actually believed him. "Yeah? Well, how about you show them to me? Gotta say I'm a little curious now."

"Sure!" Tim just about lights up. The smile he gives Jason is broad and a little wobbly around the edges.

"Well," Jason shifts. He's past due for meeting up with Bruce. Another ten minutes and the man would start tearing things up looking for him. "Next time. You going to-"

The camera disappears into a ratty bag that Jason hadn't noticed, and Tim suddenly looks like just another kid on the roof looking for a place to curl up and sleep. "I think I'm done for tonight."

Jason's unsure for a few seconds about just leaving it there, but Tim's been doing this for a few years and hasn't gotten jumped yet. The kid obviously knows how to go unnoticed. He gives him his brightest Robin smile as he backs up to the roof edge opposite the ladder. A grapple hard and cool in his hands. "Good, and make sure they're really good pictures of me next time."

Tim smothering a smile is the last thing Jason sees of the kid before he swings away to meet up with Batman. Still reeling a little, but ultimately determined to keep this meeting quiet. At least until he got to see Tim's pictures collection. One more meeting with the kid to determine how much he might know.

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Except, Jason doesn't meet Tim again on the roofs or the alleys of Gotham. There's no shadow following him through the dark for a week afterwards, and at the start of the next week Jason forgets all about kids with ridiculous cameras. All he's thinking of is absent family and a woman named Sheila. Then he's thinking of how family always seems to screw him over between blinding waves of pain.

And then, Jason's not thinking at all. He's just dead.

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Jason doesn't think about Tim again for a long time. Long after he dug himself out of his own grave, and came roaring out of the pit. Long after he'd returned to Gotham. Bitter and so damn angry at the family he thought he'd had. After he'd run the city through the grinder. Had words with dear old Bruce and Dick and the fucking replacement. The bright fucker who'd taken his place and done it so much better than Jason knows he could've.

Jason doesn't think about Tim with his scruffy clothes and camera again until he looks through a pane of plexiglass at his unexpected jailhouse visitor and sees a pair of familiar eyes. Of fucking course.

"You never showed me those pictures," Jason muses a week later. Tim's a black shadow above where Jason's been hanging for the last hour. Still healing leg stretched out and enjoying not being in a cast anymore. Makes it a hell of a lot easier to scratch at least.

"There wasn't time. Before," Tim trails off, and for the first time Jason wonders if the kid came to his grave. If Bruce's replacement hadn't been one of the few to really mourn Jason's death after all. "And you didn't seem too keen on it after."

"Wasn't thinking about pictures much after the pit," Jason admits and looks out into the dirty alleyway of the building he's holing up in. His fingers itch and he wants to fiddle with something. A cigarette, a knife, a camera. "Wasn't thinking of much really."

Tim says nothing. When he lowers himself to the rusted landing he's on he's wearing old clothes. Faded jeans and an oversized hoodie that could be on any teen in the block. His skin's too white to really blend in, but he wouldn't get more than a look or two. He tucks himself up into the corner opposite Jason. Curling up in the small space as much as possible but still nudging Jason's good leg with his feet. It's only the third time Jason's seen Tim's face, his eyes.

"You never told B," Tim says after they spend a few minutes in silence.

"Nah, never figured out how to," Jason shrugs, and, because it was apparently honesty hour or something, says, "and I probably wouldn't have said anything even if I did."

"Why?" Tim looks a little startled at the confession, but not indignant. Jason's learned that this Robin wasn't as naive or idealistic as he'd thought. This Robin had probably not told Batman a lot of things.

"I trusted you," Jason says simply, and it stings a little. Remembering how a younger him hadn't even questioned the strange boy with the camera and potentially deadly knowledge. Tim looks like the ground is shaking under him. Wide eyed and more than a little shaky. "Why'd you break me out of jail?"

Tim shrinks in on himself, his face becoming a study in self-consciousness as a wry smile flits across his face, "Because I trusted you, Jason."

"Even when it bit you in the ass?" Jason asks because he knows damn well how much shit he's brought down on Tim.

"Yeah, well," this smile is equal parts proud and nervous, and Jason has a hard time seeing how he missed connecting this Tim to the younger Tim. "Never claimed to be bright, did I?"

"That's not what I hear from others," Jason reaches out and carefully wraps his fingers around a worn sneaker. Feeling the soft give of aged leather over what has to be custom steel plates. "But no, I don't think smart people would have gone out into the worst parts of the city to take pictures of Batman and Robin."

"Well," Tim shrugs and leaves it at that. He lets Jason draw his leg out. Pulling him a little closer. He looks at his foot in Jason's lap with amused and puzzled eyes, but doesn't draw back or shake off Jason's fingers still curled around him. Just firm enough to feel the tension shaking through his leg.

"I still want to see those pictures," Jason says when they've sat long enough to convince themselves no kick or strike is coming. It's almost like going back in time, to that night on the roof. A way to start over, and Jason hopes Tim will let him have this.

"I," Tim blinks and lifts one hand. Fingers flexing. "They're actually in storage. I'd have to dig through a lot of boxes to find them."

He sounds apologetic. And Jason kinda wants to smile, because of course Tim would let him have this moment. He'd been the tiny, freaked out kid following him in the night. Taking pictures of Robin. Of Batman. Of them all. Caught just the once and thrilled as hell to show off his pictures, but only to Jason.

Jason wonders how long Tim had waited. Wandering Gotham at night with a stack of pictures in his battered bag. Looking for a flash of yellow that wasn't going to be seen again.

Jason takes a breath and pushes it away. The building bitterness and anger that he's been doing so much better controlling. Ignores it to look at Tim who reads some of it in his face and looks ready to pull back. To pull away. "Need any help? Been told I'm good at the whole brainless muscle thing."

Tim's smile is still broad and a little wobbly around the edges, but every bit as bright as he remembers.

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