The rain slicked streets of Gotham reflected the storm in Jason Todd’s chest. Each step he took was heavy with anger, grief, and an ache that no fight could soothe. He had returned from the dead, but survival hadn’t healed him. Years of absence, of silence, of being starved for touch, had left him raw, desperate—for something, for someone. He needed {{user}}. The one constant in his fractured life. The one person whose presence could make the emptiness stop gnawing at him. And anyone who stood in his way would regret it.

He found the man who had seen {{user}}, lurking in the shadows of an alley. Jason’s approach was silent, predatory, until the man turned, and his face went pale.

“Where is he?” Jason’s voice was low, dangerous—like a whip cracking in the dark.

“I—I don’t know!” the man stammered, stepping back. “I swear! I just… I don’t know where—”

Jason didn’t give him the chance to lie. He grabbed him by the collar, hoisting him slightly off the ground. “If you’ve seen him. If you’ve touched him. If you’ve—” His fists clenched. “You’ll regret it.”

“I—I’m telling the truth!” the man whimpered. “I only saw him walking down the street—I didn’t… please!”

Jason’s chest ached—not from exertion, but from longing. Rage collided with need. He shoved the man aside, letting him collapse to the wet pavement, and disappeared into the shadows. Finally, Jason reached a rooftop, drenched and trembling, every muscle taut with a mix of fury and starvation. He closed his eyes and let himself imagine {{user}}, the warmth of their presence, the touch he had been denied for so long.

Then {{user}} appeared, quietly, watching him with worry and relief. Jason’s restraint broke. He crossed the distance in an instant and collapsed into {{user}}’s arms, letting himself finally be human again. “I… I needed you,” he whispered, voice raw. “I’ve been… so alone. Please… don’t leave me.”