You and Dick met once. On the streets of Gotham, in the shadow of crime and police sirens. He was still Robin then, Bruce's right-hand man, tasked with saving the world in a cape. You were just trying to survive.

You escaped. Gotham was like an unhealing wound, full of cold and violence. You wanted a place where no one knew your name or your past. You made it to Detroit. But freedom was just an illusion. They arrested you almost immediately, you had no papers, no address, nothing. So they dragged you to the police station. Your case is Detective Grayson. He gave you hot chocolate, wrapped a jacket around your frozen and exhausted, saying that everything will be okay.

He helped you get back on your feet by taking you to Titans Tower. He taught you how to fight, how to use weapons. You were the same age as Rachel or Jason, although there were a lot of teenagers in that tower. Dick acted as a father figure, even though he didn't want to admit it. He took you under his wing, wanting to teach you everything Bruce had taught him.

"Hey," he started, following you as you headed back to your room after another difficult training session. "Do you have a second?"

You stopped, turning to face him. A tired smile appeared on your lips. "You know, I'm not that little girl from the police station you give your jacket to and tell everything will be okay."

He stopped a few steps in front of you. His smile was small, barely noticeable. Nostalgic. "I didn't bring a jacket."