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The first time Gabriel meets Jason Todd, he's sitting shoulder to shoulder with the boy's father, looking down at an old and discoloured family photo, in a prison cell.
So, technically speaking he doesn't actually meet the kid. Gabriel simply stares at a picture of him and is told just about everything there is to be known about the kid, so it's as good as meeting the toddler.
Willis Todd had dragged him out of his bunk in the middle of their mandatory 'think about what you've done' lock up hours to huddle on the ground of their cell like a bunch of gossiping teenage girls. Gabriel knows he's one of the younger guys in the cell block, and Willis is old enough to be his dad, but the man really doesn't know how to leave Gabriel alone when it comes to all this… sappy stuff.
"He walked straight into a glass door before we took this," the man laughs, the kind of guffawing laughter all fathers like Willis seem to have, pointing to a grinning three year old with a ridiculous nest of dark hair on his head, sitting on a pretty woman's lap, "Kid was sobbing his eyes out until I pulled out my damn camera and told him to shut it and smile."
Willis is hardly a big guy, especially compared to the others in Blackgate, but it's hard to imagine that a rough around the edges sort of guy like him could get all soft in the eyes and fond when he insisted on showing Gabriel a picture of his boy. It's almost sickening, if Gabriel didn't feel a strangely unfamiliar bite of jealousy for a kid he didn't even know.
He peers down at the photo once more, marvelling at the fact that this toddler lives a life in a pretty home with a pretty mother (or as pretty as things like that can get in Crime Alley) while his not-so-pretty-dad's wasting away in prison. It's not the first time Willis has been locked up, that much is evident, so it's sobering to think why the guy's back in here.
Gabriel decides there's not much else he can lose besides a couple teeth, "Why'd you get your ass thrown in here if you got a little boy you wanna raise?"
Willis turns to him with a frown, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm just saying," Gabriel mutters, leaning away from the man and resting his head against the cool stone of their shared cell, "Most guys in here don't care much for their kids. Why not stay clean and see your boy?"
Willis regards him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in an unreadable sort of way. It's creepy. Most guys like him can react in two ways; shouting or punching. Willis's knuckles are scarred, the skin lighter than the rest of his hands from where he's ripped the tissue — so Gabriel's got his bets on the latter.
Except, a grin spreads across the man's face instead. It looks startlingly like the one his boy has in the photo, if less cute and a lot more unnerving.
"Your daddy not give you enough love, kid?" Willis taunts, laughing boisterously when Gabriel grimaces at him.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Gabriel scoffs, shuffling away so they're no longer sat side by side. He's seen enough of Willis' stupid kid.
Unfortunately, Willis isn't the knucklehead Gabriel first thought him to be, since the man only smirks. He doesn't try to get any closer, smart enough to know when someone's a push away from a fist flying through the air, "Yeah sure. What do you know anyway? You're a kid. You shouldn't be in here."
Gabriel rolls his eyes. He's spent enough weeks here with Willis for a cellmate to know the guy was probably getting booked before he was younger than Gabriel is now. Besides, Gabriel's almost twenty, hardly a kid in the eyes of anyone making decisions about how he should spend life.
Judging by Willis' smirk, he must realise what Gabriel's thinking of.
"Listen boy, if I'm not out here busting my ass, who do you thinks gonna pay for their heating? Food? Who's gonna send this kid to fucking school?" Willis shrugs, looking back at the picture of his family as Gabriel frowns at him, "His ma was too sick to go college. I didn't even bother with highschool. Might as well let this kid try."
Gabriel's frown deepens. A noble cause, he supposes. For an idiot.
"None of that matters if you're in here though," Gabriel grumbles, "Kids need a dad like you around."
Willis snorts, "You flattering me, boy? Besides, you turned out fine."
Did I? "Yeah yeah, fuck you Todd."
The curly haired man grins, raising a brow at the way Gabriel constantly rises to the bait, eyes as bright as the little boy in the photo. The two share a lot of similarities, from their noses to their curly hair and darker complexions. At least Willis' missus is prettier, so the kid might grow up to be a heartbreaker — though, they don't share much of a similarity aside from blue eyes. Poor kid. The Todd genes must be disgustingly strong.
"He'll get why I did this, one day," Willis continues, "Plus, he's still got his ma around. Cathy is as strong as they get."
Gabriel huffs, "Kid's gonna grow up hating you."
Willis hums, like that's something he's well and often accepted, and Gabriel doesn't know if that fact pisses him off or just makes him pity Willis Todd, "At least he'll get to grow up."
Gabriel isn't sure what to say to that. It should feel like a jab, like Willis is using him as a cheap comparison for everything his son shouldn't become — but it lacks the bite it should. If Gabriel swallows his pride, he can almost pretend Willis is talking about someone else. That he's talking about himself.
"They ever come visit you?" Gabriel decides to change the subject before one of them finally decides this weird emotional stuff has gone on for too long.
"Cathy did the first couple times," Willis sighs, tracing the edge of the photo, "Told her to stop. Jay's never been."
Jay, the name fits, "He know you're locked up?"
Willis snorts, "My boy's three, Gabe, he don't know anything but shitting and eating."
"That ain't true," Gabriel huffs, "He'll notice. Kids are smart like that."
Willis looks over to Gabriel again, with a pitifully amused look. For a second, Gabriel thinks he's going to make some stupid joke about Gabriel's life again, except this time, Willis sighs and tucks the photo into the front pocket of his jumpsuit.
"You're breaking my heart kid," Willis murmurs, then he clears his throat, "Come on over 'ere. Let's arm wrestle. Loser cleans the toilet."
Willis brings up his kid a couple times over the next few weeks they spend in the shared cell. Normally they're just nonsensical stories about that one time Jay outsmarted both his parents and snuck onto the fire escape, or how the boy's tone deaf but will always sing and dance along to whatever they play on the radio. Willis offhandedly says Gabriel kind of laughs like his kid, and Gabriel promptly ends the conversation there.
Gabriel learns the kids full name, 'Jason Peter Todd. Peter after my grandad.' 'Jason after your old man?' 'Nah, fuck that guy.'
At one point, Gabriel picks a fight with another prisoner to sedate the itching of peace under his skin, and gets booked in isolation for a week.
When he gets back, Willis is gone.
"I'm freezing my balls off over here," Gabriel hisses, shakily lighting Andrew's cigarette while his own hangs precariously out the corner of his mouth.
Isaac — or Isaiah? — snorts, wrapped in his jacket while Gabriel's left in a thin t-shirt. Andrew is dressed similarly, but the older man just rolls his eyes at the two, turning away to face the water when Gabriel pulls away the lighter.
It's the middle of November and if Gotham isn't already ridiculously cold this time of year, it's even more unbearable by the river. The harbor is a large expanse of abandoned area for the most part, freezing wind weaving through the buildings and shipping compartment boxes to bite fingers of any idiot who's foolish enough to hang around.
Like Gabriel, right now. Along with Isaac and Andrew.
He's only known the two for a couple days on his latest job. This isn't a gig he'd usually take, or find himself in the position of considering, and so this crowd also isn't what he's used to. Normally he's running with idiots who only know how to follow instructions and lift boxes filled with something probably illegal.
Isaac — that's probably his name — is a bit of an asshole, in a weird way. He's too smiley, too bright eyed. The fact that he's not looked even a little uncomfortable throughout this entire job should be telling enough of what kind of character he is.
Andrew is…
Well, he's also kinda creepy. All he does is keep his mouth shut and mind his business. However, he is always eager to join in on the smoke breaks, even if he isn't one for conversation. From what he's gathered, Andrew's been working for the boss the longest — which could mean a lot of things. Mainly, it means he probably shouldn't be trusted.
On the bright side, Gabriel's bigger than both of them. So, there's that. If they try anything, he's not going to go down — or at all — without a fight.
Isaac knocks their shoulders together casually while Gabriel's lost in thought, and it makes Gabriel tense at the sudden contact, "Hey, you're the one who wanted to take a break out here without grabbing a coat."
"Can you blame me?" Gabriel scoffs, stepping away from the man to take a long inhale that burns through his throat and chest, "Had to get out of there. The boss freaks me out."
I suppose that's normal when you work for someone like the fucking Joker, Gabriel thinks inwardly to himself. Andrew gives him a knowing look over his own cigarette, like he's tempted to say the same thing, but keeps it to himself.
"You're just filling in for Siddiq. You'll be done soon," Andrew tells him instead.
Gabriel grumbles in agreement, "Only took the job because I owe that asshole some money. Definitely not working here again, that's for sure."
"That's what they all say," Andrew shrugs, eyes hooded as he stares up and down at Gabriel somewhat assessingly, like he understands something in the faded old jeans and scuffed construction boots, "You'll be back."
Gabriel bristles at the suggestion. He only met this guy a couple days ago. Though, before he can demand just what the hell that's supposed to mean, asshole, the sounds of scurrying feet break the otherwise silence of the dockyard.
Joker's picked an old and abandoned plastic warehouse as his base of operation for whatever it is he's planning this month, hiring help for some heavy lifting — and so this part of the harbor is completely devoid of wandering people or curious heroes. It's less flashy than what the Joker usually sets up, so maybe that's why it's taken the Bat longer to find them this time.
Andrew and Gabriel immediately turn to the sound, Isaac less hurriedly, the two ready to run towards it or away from it depending on what they see. Andrew immediately sighs when he catches sight of what all the shuffling and mumbling is.
Isaac laughs, pointing his cigarette in the general direction of the sounds, "Just a couple of kids. Probably kicking a stray cat or something."
Gabriel turns around with a huff, pointedly looking away from the group that are huddled behind a bunch of wooden crates. There is a faint sound of whimpering that follows the kicking and snickering, but it's too human to be a cat. It rings loudly in his ears.
The whimpering turns to louder cries of pain, this time very human and young in a way that is almost familiar. Gabriel grinds his teeth together, the sound prickling his skin.
Andrew clicks his teeth is what seems to be annoyance for the sudden disruption in his smoke break, and for some reason, it's louder and more obnoxious than anything else Gabriel can hear. He closes his eyes and takes one final intake of his cigarette, the burn settling harsher than usual.
"Ah for fuck's —" Gabriel grunts, throwing his head back in exasperation before marching off into the direction of the kids, "Oi!"
The children, which is all they turn out to be, a bunch of stupid kids, immediately tense up at the sound of his voice and the appearance of a man stomping up towards them. They take a moment to recollect themselves, before practically tripping over one another to run in the opposite direction — though, one does land a final kick at whatever is writhing around in the puddle in front of him.
"You little shits," Gabriel grumbles, coming to a halt as he glares at their fleeing figures.
He looks down briefly, completely unsurprised to see a tiny slip of a boy folded into himself on the ground, covered in mud and dirt. He's smart enough to cover his head, though judging from the bruises across his bare arms, he's definitely not winning any fights out here.
"What'd you do to piss them off like that?" Gabriel asks while taking a long drag, not that he really cares about the kids sob story. Call it morbid curiosity.
The kid flinches at his voice, so focused on shielding himself from the beatings he didn't even notice the gang of children had been replaced with a six foot something man. Gabriel doesn't crouch down, or move away, just stands menacingly above the boy as he finally sits up to regard him. The last thing he needs is some street kid imprinting on him like a duckling.
His head is hanging low, long unkempt hair covering his face, "Tried to sleep in their spot."
Gabriel snorts, "Yeah, that'd piss anyone off. Word of advice, kid? Find your own bridge to hunker under for the winter."
The kid, much to Gabriel's surprise, laughs at that, though it is a little winded and faint, "What, like a troll?"
That startles a bark of laughter of him, despite his best efforts to conceal it with a cough. He hasn't heard anything as childish as trolls in years. If Gabriel tries hard enough, he thinks he can remember his sister reading colorful books with similar strange creatures on it's pages, forcing him to stay up at night and hold a torch to the pages for her to poke at with sticky fingers. If he'd had his way, he would've buried her with a few of those books as well. She would've liked that.
"Well, you ain't no Cinderella, that's for sure," Gabriel grunts with a half-smile, stepping back so the kid can pick himself and his last bit of dignity off the ground. The boy's laughter grows a little brighter at that, sounding pleasantly surprised.
It makes Gabriel stop for a moment, something distantly hurtful brewing in his chest. There is something so horribly unsettling about a kid with bruises and a chest skinny enough that Gabriel can see his ribs poking out in between his shirt, talking about trolls and fairy tales. It makes him slightly sick.
(It reminds him of a life before. Before he grew up bigger and stronger than others around him. Before he lost enough to stop caring about finding something else to live for.)
That's Gotham for you, Gabriel thinks rather angrily. He balls his hand into a fist, just to feel something, and gets ready to stomp his way back into the warehouse.
But then, the boy gathers enough strength in his spindly arms to wipe his face, and push his bangs out, looking at Gabriel with reservation. What little banter they shared before had fizzled away into the cold breeze around them, and apprehension rendered the boy rigid, ready to make a run for it. After all, adults are rarely kind without a catch.
When Gabriel decides to spare a final look at the boy, his heart drops.
(he didn't know he was still capable of feeling such dread like that.)
Ah shit, Willis, Gabriel grimaces when the boy glares up at him, curly hair matted on the sides and covered in mud, angry blue eyes and a familiar bump on his nose;
You left your boy in the end, didn't you?
"Fuck," Gabriel sighs, pulling the pack of cigarettes out from his back pocket and throwing it haphazardly towards the boy before be can rationalise anything else.
The kid scrambles to grab it before it falls into the mud, staring down at it with a frown before he flicks it open with practiced ease. It's a new pack, only missing a few cigarettes from when he and Andrew went on their breaks earlier today. The boy thumbs it closed again, looking up at Gabriel with apprehension.
"It'll keep you warm," he starts, pretending not to notice the pair of eyes burning a hole into the back of his head, "Don't come round here again, ya hear me? Or you'll find something worse than a couple of bullies."
Gabriel wasn't threatening the kid with himself. This part of the harbor is well known for the criminals who use it as a base, until the Bat comes along to do his monthly tear down of the places. No place for a kid like Willis' pampered boy. No place for any kid.
The boy doesn't do well with threats like his daddy, it seems, since his glare only grows stronger. But he's smarter than his daddy in that regard, because he quickly jumps to his feet, grabbing the backpack that was thrown to the side and shaking the mud off it best he can. He shoves the cigarette pack into the front pocket before Gabriel can think better of it and snatch them back, mouth pressed into a thin line.
"Don't let yourself get pushed around out here," Gabriel grumbles, "Wipe that mud off your face and scram."
The boy takes off in the direction of town before Gabriel's even finished, his arm wiping at his face, and the man watches the boy scamper off into the darkness of the harbor's shadows. It's the opposite direction to the group of kids who had got a hand on him, Gabriel realises.
"Smart kid," Gabriel huffs as he trudges back to Andrew and Isaac, pointedly not meeting the latters pleasantly surprised expression.
"Now ain't you just a patron saint," Isaac teases.
Andrew must have grown an attitude in the last five minutes Gabriel was gone, because he quickly follows along with a smirk, "You give away your smokes to every street rat you see?"
Gabriel rises at the jab for some reason, "Mind your business Andy."
Andrew's small grin immediately falls, and he clicks his teeth, suddenly unamused, "Told you to stop calling me that, punk."
The familiar hostility makes Gabriel grin a little, and he finishes his cigarette unwillingly. He itches to dig into his back pocket for a pack he knows isn't there anymore, and instead, is forced to meet eyes with Andrew now that his hands are noticeably empty.
Andrew's staring at his fumbling curiously.
The attention makes his skin warm and itchy, and Gabriel groans in defeat.
"I knew his old man, in Blackgate, he was good to me," he finally grumbles, throwing his cigarette bud to the floor, "Kid's a spitting image of him, unfortunately. Just returning the favour."
Isaac snorts, "What's the kid's name?"
Gabriel digs his heel into the cigarette, watching the ash grow grey, "None of your fucking business, Isaac," he finally announces, turning back to the warehouse.
Good luck out here, Jason Peter Todd. You're gonna need it.
"My names Ishaan," he hears someone grumble behind him, followed by a snort.
"You've gotta be kidding me," Gabriel grunts, holding his side painfully as he hides for cover behind a nearby dumpster.
There's the sound of clanging metal around him, familiar R shaped weapons hurtling through the air as they snag onto nearby cars. This was just supposed to be a regular transport job, packing boxes and placing them into trucks. The night had been quiet and dare Gabriel say, peaceful. Only a couple more hours and he would have headed home with his paycheck.
It was for the Riddler — stuff like this hardly results in Bat interference, let alone not one, not two, but three Bats on them. Someone must have sold them out, and seriously over exaggerated the evil-doing.
Gabriel heard what sounds like someone tripping and falling on their face, followed by a high pitched cheer of joy.
"Yes!" The smallest of the trio cries in victory, "That's thirteen goons down for Robin!"
There's another cry, before a deeper but still young voice laughs along, sounding smug when they announce, "Well that was fifteen for Nightwing."
Someone slumps beside him in the hiding spot between the dumpsters, and Gabriel spares a scathing glare that will hopefully scare them away and not blow his cover. This was his hiding spot — and he didn't need anyone else leading the Bat's right to him.
But then, there is the sound of painful cries in rapid succession, before someone giggles, "Well boys, hate to break it to you, but that was twenty four for Batgirl!"
Gabriel spares a fearful look with the guy next to him. Even he's not crazy enough to send the poor guy to that flavour of punishment. Getting locked up might be easier, as it will definitely be less painful. He resides to shift to the side to try and conceal them both.
"Awh man," Robin mumbles, "I really thought I was winning."
Nightwing laughs loudly, but not unkindly, "Don't look so down little wing, we all start somewhere. In a couple years you might even beat Batgirl!"
"Don't push it," Batgirl scoffs, playfully knocking shoulders with the vigilante dressed in —
In…
"Is the fucker dressed like an frilly disco ball or did I get kicked in the head by the redhead?" Gabriel mutters in disbelief, wanting to rub his eyes to snap out of this weird hallucination, but is certain he'll just break his wrist even more than it already is.
The guy next to him peers through the gap to get a look, laughing quietly in disbelief, "Nightwing right? Bludhaven's new Bat. Doesn't really look like one though, does he... is that a mullet?"
"Well, Robin don't look like the Bat either," Gabriel whispers, ignoring the hair comment in favour of his eyes, watching the colourful boy in question take off running in the direction of an engine (no doubt some idiot trying to escape), "But he's always with Batman."
"Only because he's a mini clone," the guy tells him with utmost seriousness.
Gabriel rolls his eyes, "Yeah sure, whatever."
Before he can continue trying to convince Gabriel of whatever new conspiracy theory is rippling through Crime Alley, footsteps start approaching them slowly. Gabriel immediately tenses up, pushing back to try and blend in with the minimal shadows of the dumpsters around them.
The footsteps come to a stop, and from the sound of it, the two older vigilantes start to zip tie the unconscious goons and pile them against the wall.
"He's adapted well," Batgirl muses, sounding fond, "Batman's training is no joke."
Somehow, Nightwing manages to sound even more fond when he laughs quietly, "He's a quick learner. If he starts building some weight, he'll be better than me when I was his age."
"Isn't he already better?" Batgirl teases.
Even Gabriel, who's been told he has the emotional awareness of a rock thrown at the bottom of the ocean (thanks Ishaan), can tell she's joking. Gabriel's a little too focused on the fact that Nightwing's apparently been on the streets fighting for much longer than the rumors say he has, since he's definitely a couple years older than Robin.
But for some reason, Nightwing sighs, something distinctly sad about his tone when he replies, "He is."
Batgirl seems to become discouraged at that, as she reaches out to shove him jokingly, "Oh come on, don't be like that. You'll get more wrinkles if you frown."
"I'm not even — wait, more wrinkles?"
"Nightwing!" Robin shouts from across the docks, voice filled with the same childish joy a kid might have from being given a Christmas present, "I knocked out four more guys! Seventeen for Robin!"
Nightwing fakes a gasp of offense, running off in the direction of the kid, "Hey no fair! Are you cheating? We said no knock out gas!"
Gabriel grows uneasy at the nonchalance at this entire experience, and at the thought of a kid who looks no more than ten knocking out fully grown men. It's sort of impressive, but mostly horrifying.
It makes him shiver at the thought of what Batman's training entails.
Luckily for him, or unfortunately, he's stopped from thinking about all the cruel ways Batman's supposedly creating little mutant children who don't age and can carry tanks by the dumpster he's hiding behind being pushed to the side. The light from a nearby lamp post shines directly into his face, and he squints as he peers up.
The air is knocked out of his chest when Batgirl grins down at them, her all white eyes creased in amusement, "Well, evening gentlemen. Comfortable?"
Great, Gabriel thinks when she pulls zip ties out of — out of wherever the hell it is the Bat's hide their endless supply of stuff, Andy's not going to be happy about me being locked up again.
The day the news of Jason's death spreads around Gotham, something in Gabriel dies as well.
It's a little strange, all things considered. Gabriel didn't even meet the kid for longer than a minute or two all those years ago, and what little he remembers hearing from Willis was when the kid was three. Jason Todd is as much a stranger as any other damn person in Gotham.
He hasn't thought about the boy in a long time. There was a brief moment of pleasant surprise when he read in the paper that Bruce Wayne had adopted a kid from the streets, shock gripping at him when he found out the kid was Willis Todd's boy. The kid wasn't nearly as media obsessed like the last Wayne kid, so Gabriel only ever saw him when it was unavoidable.
Granted, Gabriel spends a lot of this time in and out of Blackgate for varying reasons of crime. A lot of the time it's hardly worth the hissy fits his probation officer throws, along the lines of theft and related petty business. Sometimes he's just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or owes the wrong asshole money he doesn't have.
For a lot of what Jason did when he was eating off silver plates and attending Gotham Academy, Gabriel is booked for a lot more serious events that involved ridiculous amounts of property damage (note to self, never work for Harley Quinn).
Then of course, there was the most recent… issue in Ethiopia. Gabriel barely made it out unscathed from Batman's seemingly never ending warpath last month, even after he threw the Joker battered and blue into Arkham.
Jason Wayne wins first in spelling bee! Jason Wayne leads the opening of Catherine Memorial Fund for Cancer research! Jason Wayne volunteers to help the homeless during Christmas holidays!
Gabriel wonders if Jason kicking it back with the elite has Willis kicking a fuss about how he succeeded in setting his boy up for the real world or rolling in his grave because he's calling Bruce Wayne 'dad'. At the very least, the papers deciding to omit the Todd name has to be enough to raise the man from the dead.
For what it's worth at least, Jason looks better than that night by the harbor, all those years ago. He's still scarily tiny when he does show up in the paper, but anyone standing next to Bruce Wayne's stupidly broad shoulders is bound to look small. He's regained some fat in his cheeks, at the very least, a warm colour returning to his brown skin, from what Gabriel can remember seeing.
But that's all the boy is to him nowadays. A picture on the front page of the paper. He might have known Willis, but there's no mention of the man in any paper about Jason's problematic past (Gotham reporters are always out to paint him as something wrong), so Gabriel can't even pretend he cares for the boy because of it.
He doesn't know Jason Todd— Wayne at all.
So, truly, Gabriel shouldn't care that the boy is dead months before his sixteenth birthday. And he doesn't care. Not really.
Except;
"Hello?"
"Andy? It's uh. You know. Gabriel."
"Gabriel, I told you to stop calling me. I'm done with doing all that shit. I don't care what new job you've found. Leave me out of it."
"Andy that's not — I didn't even —"
"Listen, I can't do it anymore. After — after Ethiopia I can't even sleep and you need to get a grip and —"
"Andrew."
"...Gabriel?"
"The morning paper. Can you — do you have it? Have you seen it?"
"The… well, yeah. I have it here. What's wrong with it?"
"I just saw it and, uhm, I just — I needed… you know what, forget it. Fuck, just, forget I called. Sorry to bother."
"Wait! Wait just — what about the paper?"
"The front page. The — the main story. I didn't even read it. I just… I saw the headline and I just — I didn't get to grab one. I can't but I need to know — is the kid —"
"The kid? Which — oh. Do you… do you want me to read you the front page?"
"Are you making fun of me? I can fucking read —"
"Oh, just shut up will you? I'm reading it. Go and sit your ass down."
"...alright."
It's funny, because Gabriel can almost vividly recall sitting and talking with Willis Todd in a cramped and slightly damp prison cell, looking over the same photograph of a little boy and his mother. He can, almost, remember seeing the same little boy at the harbor, scrappy and unprepared for a life that was destined for him ever since the day he was born in his godforsaken city.
Gabriel knows Willis has been dead long enough that he can't be turning in his grave at the news of his son's death. Not even being adopted by some rich billionaire was enough to spare him the fate.
It's inevitable, perhaps. Kids like Jason dying. Men like Willis dying. People like Gabriel still living because he's too cowardly to do much else.
"Jason Wayne found dead at 15 after being missing for two weeks following a charity trip to West Africa."
At least he'll get to grow up, Willis had said.
What a joke.
Kid's like them don't grow up.
"Do you need me to get anything on my way home?" Gabriel says tiredly into his phone, leaning against the counter.
It's still fairly early in the day, and the usual crowd doesn't start lining up outside the homeless shelter for a couple hours, especially during hot summers like this one. Gabriel doesn't mind working the front desk, even if it does mean having to talk to people — though, court mandated community service could be a lot worse.
He twirls his bright yellow name tag in between his fingers, scribbled with Volunteer Gabriel in big bold letters, followed by a sticker of a pink flower someone must have decorated it with when he wasn't looking.
There's a humming on the other side of the phone, Gabriel listens to it happily, "When are you meeting with your probation officer?"
"Not until five," Gabriel replies, suppressing a yawn. He's been here since opening at six in the morning, and it's not even noon yet.
"Pick up some pizza then?" Andrew asks, "I don't have anything to cook for dinner."
Gabriel rolls his eyes, "How did you even survive before I moved in? I'll pick up some groceries."
"First you make us stop smoking, now you want us to eat healthy. Why are you doing this to me?" Andrew grumbles, without any real annoyance in his tone, judging by the laugh that escapes him soon after.
Before Gabriel can make a comment about how they're changed men now that they're working jobs that don't involve some sort of ambiguous legality, the doors to the shelter chime to indicate someone's approaching the desk.
The phone almost slips out of his hand when he identifies one of the two approaching men, both big enough that they have to take turns walking through the door. Gabriel clears his throat, standing up straight as he quickly mumbles, "Andy I'll call you back, the Jesus of Gotham is walking up to me."
Gabriel ends the call before Andrew can ask him what the hell he's on about, and the two men stop at the desk. The first one is smiling kindly, staring directly into Gabriel's eyes while the other looks just as comfortable as Gabriel feels.
"Mr Wayne," Gabriel gruffs in greeting.
Bruce Wayne grins, "Afternoon, just wanted to pop in to check how things were going."
Gabriel really hopes Pramila the Supervisor Of Doom isn't watching him from behind the staff door, ready to kick him in the back because he's not smiling. He's never been good at greeting people optimistically as it is, and there are very few reasons he wants to smile at Bruce Wayne.
Not even the fact that this entire building is owned by him. That this homeless shelter is funded by him.
That this shelter is dedicated to Jason.
"Well, if you go through the staff entrance, Pramila will update you." Gabriel settles on saying as calmly as he can, which doesn't seem calm at all given the stranger behind Wayne looks at him skeptically.
Bruce Wayne however seems hardly phased, nodding and then turning to the man behind him, "Do you want to come to the back with me?"
Gabriel blinks at the soften the tone takes up, different compared to the usually bright and bold one Wayne greets everyone else with. It's carefully given to the man, who meets Wayne's eyes hesitantly.
"Not today," he says, "I'll wait here."
Wayne nods, hand twitching in a way that looks like he might want to reach out to pat the stranger, but ultimately decides against it. He gives Gabriel one final polite smile, before walking around the corner to the staff entrance. He's familiar enough given how often he comes here to check up on everything, so Gabriel doesn't bother escorting him.
Instead, Gabriel debates the chances of him getting arrested for asking a question.
"You don't look like the typa crowd Wayne usually hangs around," Gabriel ends up saying when the man starts to fidget with his fingers.
The man in question blinks at him in surprise, before he scoffs, smiling with somewhat disbelief, "What gave it away?"
Gabriel's eyes flick up to the man's hair, a bright white streak bleached right down the middle. It makes Gabriel wonder if the man really is a man, or a kid trying to hold himself like one. Though the deep scars on his face, and the few on his hands peeking through the shirt sleeve suggest experiences that should definitely outlive him.
Gabriel absently rubs his own scar across his wrist, covered over and barely there after years of healing and random tattoos he's accumulated over the years, "The leather jacket doesn't really scream billionaire. "
The answer seems to surprise him even more, and the kid laughs. Gabriel smiles as well, though it is definitely hidden much better.
"You been working here long…" The kid asks after a moment of less-uncomfortable silence, squinting down at his nametag, "Gabriel?"
"Long enough," Gabriel answers, not sure if he wants to reveal any finer details to the kid hanging out with Wayne, even if his accent suggests he's not exactly from Bristol.
"Bruce wanted to show me this place for a while," he continues, looking away from Gabriel to stare at the pristine clean floors, something unreadable in his expression, "Finally caved in and tagged along."
Gabriel isn't sure why that comment rubs him the wrong way, defensive over a place named after a kid who died almost ten years ago, "Well sorry it ain't no five star hotel."
The kid scoffs, "You got that right. But it would have felt like one for me back then, if we had shelters like this."
Oh, Gabriel immediately reels back his temper. If Andy were here, he'd have smacked him round the head for making an enemy of a kid who looks like he's seen better days.
"Ain't that the truth," he finally grumbles, offering an olive branch of an unspoken apology, "We get to help a lot of kids here. You should check out the facilities."
"Next time," the kid says, and it sounds like a promise to himself. Gabriel doesn't reply with anything verbal, but they nod to each other in finality.
Wayne comes sauntering back to the front desk, remnants of laughter from a joke he must have shared with Pramila on his lips. He grins at the sight of the man — kid — looking noticeably less like he wants to run out the front door. This time, he doesn't hesitate, and settles a large hand on the boy's shoulder.
"All good?" Wayne asks, tone kind and personal again.
The kid takes a deep breath in, green eyes sharp and steady, "Yeah. Yeah I'm good."
Gabriel looks away, feeling really creepy for intruding on something obviously important (though he's not too sure why). He grabs the notebook tucked under a pile of papers and places it on the counter.
"Sign the visitor book," Gabriel announces, breaking the moment, "Please."
Wayne, the asshole, ignores the pen attached to the book by a string and pulls out his own fancy pen to sign his name and date, "Always a pleasure to visit. You folks do good work here."
Gabriel smiles for a second, just to avoid any awkward confrontations, before letting his mouth fall into a straight line again. He angles the book away from Wayne when he's finished doing his overly curly signature, inching it towards the kid instead.
"You too kid," Gabriel says, "Sign here."
Both the kid and Wayne look caught off guard at that, but protocol states everyone who visits in a somewhat official capacity needs to be recorded. Gabriel assumes friends with the owner of the building counts as official.
The kid hesitates for a moment before he grabs the offered pen, staring at the line like he's not sure what he's supposed to be writing.
Wayne doesn't step in to help him, and before Gabriel can fear he's accidentally pressured a kid who can't write his name, the pen starts moving across the page in clean, blocky strokes.
When he's done, the kid pushes the book and pen over to Gabriel, offering a small smile, "Thanks."
Gabriel shrugs, hoping they'll take it as their leave to go. Wayne takes a moment to just stare at the kid, before placing a hand back on his shoulder, nodding proudly, "Let's head home. I'm sure Alfred's got lunch waiting for us."
The boy nods, inhaling sharply as they turn for the door. Gabriel watches them leave, taking steps that seem heavier than the last, not saying anything to each other at all.
"Weirdos…" Gabriel mumbles when he's sure they're out of earshot, snorting when he looks down at Bruce Wayne's signature. He's even put a heart at the end, for reasons Gabriel will never understand.
Out of curiosity, as he's placing the book back to its original spot under the mountain of unidentifiable papers, he looks down to the kid's signature, which looks to be just his full name in clear capitals.
Gabriel stops, hands tightening around the book enough to make the pages crease.
He's not sure what he's looking at, except there's no way he's reading it wrong, and something familiar stumbles painfully into his chest, "What the…"
Jason Peter Todd-Wayne.