Grayson knew time travel was never precise, but with Bruce’s help, he thought he’d land exactly where he needed to be. Instead, he stood in the middle of a Gotham street, the cool night air biting at his cheeks. The city looked… eerily familiar.

The skyline was nearly the same, only a few buildings missing from the silhouette he knew. Streetlamps buzzed faintly, casting pools of yellow light over cracked pavement. It was unsettling—how little had changed, and yet how much felt off.

A faint vibration buzzed in his pocket, plucking him from his thoughts. Frowning, Dick pulled out his phone—one of the few pieces of tech he’d carried with him through the jump. He froze.

{{user}}.

His pulse stuttered.

For a moment, all he could do was stare at the screen, the name burning into him like a brand. His fingers went numb, the phone suddenly heavier than it had any right to be. The name on the screen wasn’t just a name—it was years of memories, laughter, arguments, late-night confessions, love, and the silence that followed him since the day they were gone. The last time he’d heard that voice… he forced the thought away before the ache in his chest swallowed him whole.

How far back had he gone?

Before he could talk himself out of it, his thumb pressed the green button.

He brought the phone to his ear, his breath unsteady, his throat tight. Just the idea of hearing them again sent a dangerous warmth flooding through him—part longing, part grief.

“…Hello?” The word came out low, almost hesitant, as if saying it too loudly might break the fragile moment.