Chapter Text
A head of reddish-brown hair poked out of the dumpster, shoulder-length and matted, pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of the head it belonged to. The spoils of the girl’s raid were quickly put into a tattered backpack, joining the other scraps of half-eaten food, and the golden goose egg that was a grab-and-go lunch that still had the packaging on it.
Dirty shoes that covered dirty feet hit the concrete of Gotham’s even dirtier alley floors, and the girl they carried moved them toward the main street once again. As she got to the corner, she heard rapid footsteps approaching. Their owner sounded too light to be an adult, so she risked a discrete peak around the corner.
A boy older than her was sprinting down the street in her direction, glancing behind him multiple times in a couple seconds.
He must be running from someone.
She stuck her hand out and waved to him, beckoning him over once she caught his attention. The taser her older sister gave her pressed against her leg in her pant pocket, and the kindness her mother instilled in her pressed on her heart under her large sweater.
The boy skidded a bit as he turned on a dime to duck into the alley behind her, and she grabbed an empty bottle by her foot and chucked it down the sidewalk.
More footsteps rounded the same corner the kid had seconds before, and she ducked behind the dumpster, next to the red zip-up hoodie covering the boy. These feet carried heavy bodies, and she caught the view of two men running past their alley and down the street.
“That fucking punk!” one yelled.
“You’re gonna pay, you damn bastard kid!” called the other, his voice quieting as they ran away.
Honey eyes turned on the fugitive, scanning and planning every way to hurt this kid should he try anything funny.
“What did you do?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing suspiciously.
“Whadda’sit matter?” he said. “Buncha assholes is what they are.”
“What did you steal from them?” she pressed.
“Nothin’!” was the defense, the East Gotham accent not too glaring but not exactly subtle. At her disbelieving lift of an eyebrow, he amended, “Okay, maybe I tried to jack a few tires. But those guys were rich! No way they needed them more than I did!”
“Why do you need them?” The girl didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. “You’re definitely not old enough to drive.”
“I sell ‘em to get meds and food for my mom,” the boy snapped. “She’s… sick. And it’s not like I can getta job.”
“Do you need food? I have some extra,” she said, reaching into her backpack.
“Wha—no, I ain’t gonna take from some kid.”
“You’re a kid, too.”
“A little kid, then. You look like you’d snap if you bent over already.”
“It’s okay. I don’t have anyone to take care of.” She dug around, pulling out the packaged lunch. “Your mom needs you. It’d be better for me to be hungry than you or your mom.”
The boy in the red zip-up took the item gently, still looking conflicted behind his slight scowl.
“You have other food?” he asked. “An’ it’s enough?”
She nodded, giving him a small smile. “I’m good.”
He returned the nod and then pushed himself up. She followed him to stand as well.
“I… I should get back to my mom,” he said, his blue eyes meeting her light brown ones, and she nodded. “See ya.”
She just waved with a smile as he ran deeper into the alley, away from the main street.
~
She was just thinking about that boy in the red zip hoodie when she spotted him crouched by a fancy-looking car. Same red sweatshirt, same jet black hair. The car stuck out like a sore thumb in the company of rusted vehicles that looked like they were being held together with duct tape and a prayer.
Stepping up to him, she tilted her head to peer over his shoulder to see what he was up to. Twisting the bolts off the tires. Of course he was. Honestly, what did the car’s owner expect to happen to a shiny car in the middle of Crime Alley?
Just as her mouth opened to speak, a metal rod was being swung at her. Her left arm came up to block reflexively, and while the hit still landed, it was much softer than she thought the initial swing would be.
“Jesus, kid!” the boy exclaimed in an irritated tone. “The hell arya sneakin’ up like that for? I was ready to bash your frickin’ skull in!”
“Sorry,” she said, being careful not to react to the throbbing pain growing in her left forearm as she rubbed it. “I was curious what you were doin’. Is your mom okay?”
A look of utter disbelief, concern, and exasperation passed over his face before he sighed and turned back to his task with a shake of his head.
“She’s... You should get outta here, though. If the owner comes back, he’s gonna think you were in on this.”
“Do you want help?” she asked, crouching next to him, the bottom of her backpack brushing against the floor.
The boy seemed to consider his options for a moment before he said, “Fine, sure. Once I get this off, roll this over to the apartment building two streets down and to the left. Go to the third story window off the fire escape and drop it there, got it?”
She nodded, looking up at him. “Is that where you and your mom live?”
“Just me now, kid. I think the whole place is abandoned.”
The girl watched him work the metal tool on the tire silently for a bit before she spoke again.
“What’s your name?”
“Jason,” he grunted. “Wha’s yours?”
“Rubianne,” she answered back. “But I mostly would go by Ruby.”
“How old are ya, Rue?” Jason asked, letting one of the bolts drop and moving onto another.
“What day is it?”
“June 8th.”
“I was born on May 9th, so I just turned seven,” she said.
Jason gaped at her. “You’re seven?”
Ruby nodded. “How old are you?”
“‘Boutta turn twelve in a month or so.” With one more grunt of effort, the last bolt clatters on the asphalt, and Jason slides the tire off. “Here. I’ll be right behind you with the last one.”
He rolled it up onto the sidewalk next to her, and she steadied it with her hands. For a moment she contemplated saying more, but she turned and walked off according to his directions.
~
Within the hour, they were both sitting on the ground in the dirty abandoned apartment that Jason had holed up in. Four clean-looking tires were stacked in one corner, and Jason let her sit next to him on the blankets piled on a sheet of cardboard.
“When did you lose your mom?” she asked gently. He didn’t answer for a minute, so she continued. “Mine died when I was three, so I don’t really remember her all that much. But she was nice. I liked her.”
“You’ve been livin’ alone on the street since you were three?” he asked skeptically, fiddling with a small, cardboard box.
“No, Kate took care of me until… Well, it was before the snow started to fall last year,” Ruby replied, glancing at the peeling walls.
Jason seemed almost hesitant to ask, “What happened to her?”
“She tried to go to a police man for help. But he tried to hurt her, so she stunned him with his taser and then ran away. But then the other police people got mad, so when they saw her again, they shot her.”
Ruby saw the boy bite the inside of his lip and leer at the floor.
“My mom was sick,” he finally said. “I tried to help her, but she never got better. Kept makin’ herself sick.”
“I’m glad you got to be with her for a long time,” Ruby said, hugging her backpack to her chest and resting her head on her knees that she had pulled up.
Jason’s jaw clenched, as did his fists around his red sleeves, and remained silent.
“Do you think we could help each other? You wouldn’t have to take care of me; I’ll help you out. Like I did with the tires, or I could find a lot of food for the both of us. That way, we wouldn’t have to be alone.”
Ruby had closed her eyes, and Jason could see himself at that age, with his piece of shit dad and his mom before she was too lost in the drugs. He saw himself tired and scared, which he didn’t doubt this little girl was, and he knew that he couldn’t send her away. He knew he wouldn’t make this little girl be alone any more than she already was, no matter how many voices in his head were yelling at him all the reason this would lead to his premature death.
“Stick with me, Rue,” Jason said, letting himself put a gentle hand on her head, knowing it would only serve to tether his heart to her well-being. “Don’t want you getting picked up by some creep.”
He heard an affirmative hum from her as she leaned on him, and Jason felt the weight of a responsibility bigger than the one his mom gave him settle on his chest.