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Bruce was walking his mare along the edge of the forest when he spotted the flash of blue in the moonlight. It was late, and the small figure was heading for the edge of the woods.
Bruce sighed and pulled the black mare with him towards the sneaking boy. He made no attempt to conceal his presence in an effort to not scare the young lad. Dick spotted Bruce as he approached and froze on the spot as if guilty for being caught before attempting to take a casual stance as if he was supposed to be out in the forest this late at night–– and with an injured ankle at that.
“Shouldn’t you be resting that ankle?”
Bruce scanned the boy as he stood stiffly in front of him. He seemed restless, fidgeting under Bruce’s gaze.
“It’s healed enough. Besides, I was only going for a walk.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow, “Would you’re brothers agree?”
Dick glared at him, “And what does that matter? I’m fine, and I need to get out of the house.”
Bruce furrowed his brow. Why did it matter? Well, it was dangerous to be out alone at night in Gotham, and the boy was still injured from his tumble from the other night…
“Hn.”
The boy began to fidget more, and Bruce could see the tension in his muscles.
“Listen, Sir. Thank you for your assistance that night, but I’m all right. Alfred told me it would only take a few weeks to heal. I’m fine, really.”
Bruce wasn’t convinced, “You can call me Bruce, chum.”
He knew what it was like to be kept inside with an injury, and how antsy it could be. The boy was wound up. He needed to let some energy out without hurting his ankle further, and Bruce wasn’t comfortable with letting the lad roam about alone.
His horse nuzzled unto his side. Bruce had an idea.
“Have you ever ridden horseback?”
Dick stared up at him in confused wonder
“No.”
Bruce smiled at the young boy from under his hood, “Would you like to try?”
The boy stared at him for a moment before nodding.
“Very well, let’s give it a try then. First off, let’s get you two acquainted.”
Bruce walked the mare up to Dick. The boy stared up at the large animal.
Bruce chuckled, “You can pet her if you’d like. She won’t bite.”
Dick slowly brought his hand up to pet the mare’s muzzle, a smile making its way onto the boy’s face. The mare blinked calmly down at the boy in response. Bruce watched as a warm feeling began to fill his chest at the sight.
“Now let's get you in the saddle.”
Bruce moved the horse until the boy was perpendicular to its left side, adjusting the stirrups on the saddle to the right height.
“Alright, lad. I’ll help you up, hold the reins and I’ll make sure to keep her still.”
Bruce hoisted Dick into the air, directing him where to swing his legs and put his feat as he placed the boy into the saddle.
“Place your foot in the stirrups–– yes just like that. Now swing your leg over… Perfect.”
Dick moved with ease as he settled into the saddle, steering clear of straining his injured ankle.
Bruce took the reins and led the horse along the treeline as they walked. The kid smiled as he looked at everything from his new perspective atop the horse.
“Damian is going to be so jealous.”
Bruce kept running into the boy in the red scarf.
He watched as the young lad wove his way through the market effortlessly, like water around a boulder. The boy had a determined look in his eye, and was making a beeline for a group of intoxicated merchants.
Bruce’s eye landed on the coin purse at the merchant’s side.
Ah. So that was his goal.
Bruce followed the flash of red as he made his way through the crowd toward the merchant. The silver glint of plate mail caught his eye, and Bruce moved quickly, grabbing the boy's wrist before he could snag the coin purse.
The boy looked up at him startled, with an expression of mock innocence on his face–– his expression morphing into awe as the silver plate of the city guard passed behind Bruce.
Bruce felt his chest tighten at the sound of the boy’s grumbling stomach, leaving some coin behind as he released the boy's hand and left the market.
***
The second time Bruce runs into the boy with the red scarf, it’s in the middle of the woods.
Bruce had been restless. Unable to sleep, he’d found himself bow-fishing in a stream near the edge of town. The fish were still present, having yet to migrate for the winter.
Bruce pulled his bowstring back as his eyes tracked the figure in the water, aiming his arrow just below the outline of the fish swimming beneath the steady current. He released his arrow, and it hit its mark, impaling the fish with an audible thunk.
The sudden feeling of being watched crept up Bruce’s spine, but he felt no sense of danger, so he kept the tension out of his shoulders as he moved to roast the fish over a nearby fire. The sound of rustling in a nearby bush catches his attention, and he spots a flash of red deeper in the woods.
Bruce pulled down his hood in an effort to look less threatening, scanning the forest for a moment before his eyes locked with dimly glowing ones. It was one of the birds from the market. One of the orphans.
What was the kid doing this far into the woods at night? Was he lost? Something in his gut told him that wasn’t the case.
“You can have some if you’re hungry, lad. The fish don’t migrate for another month or so.”
The boy stared at him. The kid had clearly been eyeing the fish roasting on the fire, and Brue had more than enough for himself.
Bruce watched the kid’s eyes as they seem to scan Bruce. He kept his body as relaxed and open as he could. When the boy deemed it safe, he emerged from the brush.
Bruce hadn’t gotten a good look at the kid earlier. He was young, and the white streak in his hair suggested some sort of incident with magic, though Bruce couldn’t be sure as to what that was. He certainly wasn’t going to ask the already skittish kid about a magical incident or injury and scare him off.
The kid sat across the fire from him, keeping a safe distance between them. The boy slowly reaches out and grabs one of the already cooking fish off the fire, before digging in. He keeps Bruce in his line of sight the whole time.
Bruce feels a deep ache of sadness crawling beneath his skin. Bruce was a stranger, but he certainly wasn’t going to hurt the lad. He didn’t want to think about what the kid had encountered in his life that made him so skittish and distrustful.
Bruce continues eating his own fish, his curiosity about the four orphans in Gotham had grown, and he wanted to learn more about them.
“What’s your name, chum?”
The boy pauses, glaring at Bruce, his mouth full of fish.
There’s a long silence before the boy speaks.
“... Jason.”
Bruce lets a smile cross his face, “Nice to formally meet you, Jason. My name is Bruce.”
Jason only hums in response. They finish the rest of their meal in comfortable silence.
Once he is done with his fish, Jason stands, regarding Bruce with a pinched expression.
The fidgets on his feet for a moment, “...Thanks.”
Jason darts out of the forest before Bruce can even take a breath.
***
The next time Bruce runs into Jason, he’s sleeping against a tree.
Not necessarily sleeping per se, he’s just resting his eyes after a particularly long day. He’d purchased some new books in town, needing to do upkeep on the most recent research on monsters and the supernatural. There wasn’t much that had caught his eye, save for a leatherbound book written by one of his father’s favorite authors. He’d traded the book for some cured meat before heading out towards the forest to read it.
It was a beautiful book, a collection of poems about the world and nature. He didn’t connect with every poem, but he could not deny the words were beautiful. Still, he’d grown tired, and had moved to sit back with his eyes closed against the tree.
He hadn’t been in that position for long when he felt eyes on him and heard the sound of something small quietly approaching from his side. He dared to crack an eye open, spotting a familiar red scarf, and keeping stock still as Jason approached him, so as to not scare the boy.
Jason stopped about a foot away, peering at the book in his hands, face pinching as he attempted to read the words on the page.
How much of an education had these boys received at the orphanage? His memories of his time there were hazy at best, but he couldn’t really remember learning anything. By the book, at least.
Bruce sucked in a breath as Jason let out a huff, and inched closer to get a better look at the pages.
Jason’s eyes shot up to Bruce’s at the sound, and he skittered back, body tense and screaming flight.
Bruce put up one of his hands, palm open and facing Jason, allowing the boy to see that he was unarmed, “Sorry, Jaylad. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Jason’s eyes darted between Bruce and the book in his lap.
Bruce looked down at the book and back up at the boy, “Would you like to read this?”
Jason blushed hard, red reaching the tips of his ears, “...I–– can’t. At least not very well.”
Bruce’s heart ached at the sight. Jason clearly had a vested interest in reading if he’d gone out of his way to approach a near stranger to do so.
“Would you like me to help you?”
The words were out of Bruce’s mouth before he could think. He expected Jason to scowl at him and run off–– Instead, he was met with a look of surprise.
Bruce waited and held his breath as Jason moved slowly towards him, sitting down beside him to get a good angle of the book. Bruce let out the breath he had been holding and flipped back to the beginning of the book, and began to read aloud.
They read for hours, reading slowly so that Jason could better comprehend the words. He stopped Bruce periodically to ask about a word's meaning or pronunciation. It filled Bruce with an unfamiliar sense of warmth and Bruce found that he would do this for days on end if he could, all to see the smile that graced Jason’s face whenever he finally managed to grasp the meaning of a new word.
By the time Bruce was reading the last page, Jason was pressed against his side, eyes drooping with exhaustion as he kept them open in an attempt to absorb every last bit of knowledge the book had to offer.
Bruce felt as if his own heart was going to combust.
Bruce was walking back to the tavern when the cat found him. He knelt down as the cat approached.
Isis ran towards him meowing loudly. Something was wrong.
He stuck his hand out to greet the cat, “Hello, Isis. What’s wrong? Is Selina with you?”
The cat’s eyes flashed from human to feline, and back again as it continued to meow, circling and looking back down the road from where she had first emerged. Bruce understood, standing and moving quickly to follow the cat as she ran back down the street.
They reached a dark alleyway, and Bruce gasped at the sight of red mixing with a familiar yellow scarf.
He ran towards the boy on the ground, “Tim!”
Bruce reached out and rolled the boy over, gently. Tim let out a groan at the movement but didn’t protest as Bruce scanned him for injuries. There was a particularly nasty cut along the boy's arm, and it was deep enough that blood loss was a concern.
How long had he been like this? Bruce needed to treat him immediately.
Bruce pulled down his hood and scanned the boy's features for signs of a concussion, “Tim? Are you ok, lad?”
Tim looked at him glassy-eyed, but present. His voice was so small when he spoke, Bruce could feel his heart nearly seize up with worry.
“Hi, Mr. Hunter Sir. I’m sorry to bother you again…” Tim was being lifted with care, but he flinched when his arm was jostled.
“I’m sorry lad–– I’ll patch you up in just a moment. I just need to stop the bleeding first.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hunter, you really don’t have to––”
“Please, Tim. Call me Bruce.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bruce.”
The boy was definitely suffering from blood loss, but there were no signs of a concussion. Bruce wrapped gauze around his arm, adding pressure to stop the blood flow.
“I’ve stopped the bleeding, but your wound needs to be cleaned, and we need to get you off the street. Is that alright, Tim?”
Tim nodded and Bruce moved to scoop him up into his arms, clutching the small boy close to his chest.
Bruce nearly sprinted back to the tavern with Tim in his arms, only keeping a steady pace so as not to jostle the boy too much. He burst through the door to his room and immediately placed the small boy on the bed, rummaging through his pack for a needle and thread and the healing salve he’d bought from Dr. Isley.
Bruce rushed back to the bed with all three items in hand. He grabbed a clean cloth and some alcohol to clean out the wound before he stitched it up.
He put his hand gently on Tim’s shoulder. Tim’s eyes were still glassy, but he seemed more conscious than when Bruce had first found him. That was a good sign at least.
“Tim, this is a healing salve. It will help the cut heal. It will help take the pain away, but first I have to clean the gash, and it is going to hurt for a moment.”
Tim nodded, and Bruce doused the wound in alcohol, wiping away the blood with the cloth. He watched in mild horror as the boy nearly bit through his own lip in an attempt to keep quiet.
“Only a moment longer, sweetheart. It’s a fairly deep cut, so we have to make sure it’s clean.”
Tim’s breathing evened out as Bruce finished up the stitches and secured a bandage around the wound.
“There, all done. How are you feeling, Tim?”
The boy blinked up at Bruce, the haze leaving his eyes “I’m ok. Thank you for helping me.”
Bruce sighed. Thank god. He hadn’t felt fear like that in a long time. Something about seeing Tim laying limp and bleeding on the floor of that alleyway made Bruce’s heart stop and every protective instinct in his body kick into high gear.
Bruce was glad Tim was ok, but what on Earth was he doing out alone at night?
“Anytime, lad… but would you care to tell me just what you were doing sneaking around by yourself so late at night? Again?”
Tim blushed and looked away, “I–– um… I was chasing a cat…”
Bruce paused, “A cat?”
“Yes–– but it had human eyes! I was just curious, and I tried to follow it, but it was smarter than I originally thought.”
Ah. Selina had been keeping an eye on the boys. Tim must have spotted Isis while Selina was warging. Of course, something like that would pique Tim’s curiosity.
Bruce let out a soft chuckle, “Ok, Tim. It is not a bad thing to be curious, but there are smarter ways of going about satisfying your curiosity, ok?”
Tim nodded in acknowledgment. Bruce knew he’d see the kid out and about on the streets again regardless of what he told the boy to do.
“Now, let’s get you home. I’m afraid you won’t be able to avoid Dick and Jason’s wrath this time around. And here,” Bruce pressed the healing salve into Tim’s hand, “Take this and apply it to your wound once a day. It will help it heal.”
“Thank you. Mr. Bruce.”
“Just Bruce is fine, chum.”
Bruce spotted the blue, red, and yellow bundled together as they moved through the marketplace. Green was distinctly missing from the group. Bruce caught the tail end of a green scarf turning into an alleyway.
Bruce made his way to the alley after the youngest boy.
The boy was sitting atop a wooden crate, swarmed by alley cats. Bruce watched fondly as the felines flocked to the young boy. The sight would make Selina’s heart melt.
One of the cats meowed at Bruce loudly, and the boy turned to look at him. Deep and oddly familiar green eyes bore into him.
Some of the alley cats left the youngest boy’s side to greet Bruce. He’d met some of them before, they often visited Selina at the tavern. Bruce leaned down, cooing to pet them as they approached, and they rubbed up against him affectionately.
The sound of Dick yelling for his brother caught Bruce’s attention, and he turned to face the boy.
“You’re brothers are looking for you, lad. You have them fairly worried.”
The boy only hummed before standing and swiftly walking past Bruce and out of the alley.
Bruce watched him go, making his way to Dick who scooped the boy into his arms and fussed over him while Jason and Tim joined the huddle.
Bruce watched the four little birds for a moment, something unfamiliar tugging at his chest before he turned and walked back into the busy market crowd. He felt sharp emerald eyes watching him as he walked away.
The feeling that he was missing something itched at the back of his brain.