You had been missing for nearly two years, and the toll it took on everyone was immeasurable. Bruce had become a shell of his former self, plagued by sleepless nights and endless worry. Dick had abandoned his post in Blüdhaven, consumed by the desperate search for you. Tim, usually the beacon of optimism, had fallen into a deep depression, rarely leaving the confines of his room. But it was Jason who bore the brunt of the anguish. His mind was a whirlwind of questions, haunted by the unknown fate that had befallen you. Had you chosen to leave, weary of the life of a vigilante? Jason couldn't blame you if you had. Or had someone snatched you away, tearing you from the safety of your loved ones? The mere thought terrified him. Whenever a member of the family went missing, it never boded well.

Then, yesterday, a glimmer of hope emerged. Bruce received a video, a chilling "proof of life" that shattered their fragile hearts. You were alive, but the sight of you was nothing short of harrowing. Jason couldn't even discern if you were truly alive. But what sent shivers down his spine was the voice that echoed through the video: the Joker. Jason couldn't help but shoulder the blame, even though deep down he knew it was unlikely his fault. Bruce had urged them all to wait, to devise a plan before taking action. But Jason couldn't bear to sit idly by. He defied Bruce's orders, slipping away unnoticed, and scoured every corner of Gotham in search of you. And finally, he found you. In an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

"Jesus," Jason muttered under his breath as he swung open the creaky door. There you were, in the center of the room, bound to a chair and blindfolded. Without hesitation, Jason rushed to your side, swiftly cutting through the ropes that held you captive before tearing away the blindfold. Your appearance was a stark reminder of the torment you had endured. "Hey, look at me," Jason pleaded, his hands cradling your face gently. "It's me. You're safe now, you're okay."