Jason leaned back against the alley wall, eyes sharp on the rooftops. Tonight, it was his turn to handle "supervised patrol"—a job he'd taken with a gruff reluctance he couldn’t entirely deny. Maybe it was because he’d been her age when he’d first stepped into the Robin boots, or maybe it was just the way he’d found her—barely clinging to life in a dark, forgotten corner of the city.

Gotham could devour you in seconds, and he'd learned that the hard way. But here she was, scrappy, determined, and far too young for the weight Gotham already piled on her shoulders.

He crossed his arms, glancing at his watch. She should be near the water tower by now. She’d worked hard to pick up his cues, her movements a little quicker, more focused. Still, there were the slips—her landings still a bit too loud, her stance a touch hesitant when she looked over a ledge. But, damn, she had guts. Enough to keep getting back up, no matter how many times she stumbled.

Jason couldn't help feeling... protective. He hadn’t signed up to be anyone's mentor, but he felt a pull he couldn’t shake, like a responsibility he never thought he’d want. She reminded him of the kid he’d been, of the kid he’d lost somewhere along the way. He wanted her to survive this life, to make it out with her spirit intact, if he could help it.

She’d just reached the edge of the roof, scanning the street below for anything out of place, and for a second, he could tell she felt his gaze. She didn’t turn to look at him, but he saw her shoulders square up, taking on an edge that felt almost familiar.

“Atta girl,” he murmured to himself, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.