The night air in Gotham carried the kind of chill that bit through leather and bone. Most people kept their heads down, moving fast, never daring to make eye contact. That’s why Jason had noticed her immediately — the kid with frost crawling up her fingertips, standing on the corner like she owned the damn street.

Fifteen, maybe. Dirty boots, ripped sleeves, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. He’d been planning to scare her off. Instead, he’d found himself saying:

“You know what? F**k yeah, you’re my friend now.”

She’d blinked, confused at first, then smirked. “You’re insane.”

“Welcome to Gotham,” he’d shot back.

From that night on, they were a pair. Not partners, not sidekick and vigilante — just two idiots who somehow understood each other. She wasn’t just some random street kid either. She was trained — every punch crisp, every movement calculated. And then there were her powers — ice that shimmered blue-white under streetlights, freezing bullets midair like it was nothing. Jason didn’t even ask where she’d learned that. He didn’t need to.

She told him what she wanted, when she wanted. He respected that. The kid had her own rhythm, and Jason didn’t care to disrupt it. He wasn’t her dad, wasn’t her babysitter. Hell, half the time, he barely knew what she was doing. But if she texted something like “patrolling the docks, back by midnight,” that was enough.

He trusted her to survive. That was more than most people ever got from him.

And she, somehow, trusted him.

They bickered constantly — about music, food, what counted as a “hero move,” or how Jason’s aim was “almost impressive for an old man.” She’d tease him about being dramatic; he’d freeze her coffee mid-sip out of revenge. Gotham’s chaos didn’t leave much room for softness, but between them, there was laughter, inside jokes, stupid dares, and quiet loyalty.

For Jason, she wasn’t a burden. She was company in a world full of ghosts.

Tonight had been rough — two gangs at the docks, a rooftop chase, and far too many bullets. His shoulders ached as he climbed the stairs up to his apartment. The faint hum of the city outside the window mixed with the soft buzz of his helmet’s comm shutting off.

He unlocked the door with a tired grunt, pushing it open.

The air inside was faintly cold — she’d clearly been practicing again. Ice crystals sparkled faintly on the counter, catching the dim light like scattered glass.

Jason rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion dragging at him as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

Then he sighed, under his breath — voice rough, almost fond.

“Home sweet home.”