The warehouse reeked of gas and Joker venom.

Dick crashed through the busted side door, escrima sticks drawn, pulse racing. Jason had gone after the Joker alone—again—and his comms had gone silent.

“Jason?” Dick shouted.

From the shadows came that laugh.

Joker stepped into view, wild-eyed, grinning ear to ear. “Right on time, Nighty-Night!”

“Where is he?” Dick growled.

“Oh, he’s riiight here.” Joker stepped aside with a dramatic flourish.

On the floor sat a toddler. Tiny. Barefoot. Pale. Shaky. A mini leather jacket slumped around his shoulders, clutching a domino mask like a teddy bear.

Dick froze.

“…Jason?”

The baby blinked up at him with watery blue eyes. “Buh-buh…?” he sniffled.

“What did you do?” Dick roared, rounding on Joker.

“Little de-aging toxin I whipped up,” Joker chirped. “Figured I’d hit rewind on ol’ Red Hood! Isn’t he precious?”

Before Dick could move, Joker tossed a flashbang and vanished into the smoke, laughing maniacally. “Good luck with diaper duty, Bubba~!”

Dick dropped his weapons and rushed to the toddler—Jason—who was trembling.

“Hey… hey, I got you,” Dick whispered, kneeling. Jason reached for him, clinging tight.

“Wanna go hoooome…”

Dick held him close, heart breaking. “I got you, Jay. I’m here.”

Jason hiccuped. Then sneezed.

“…And you smell like Joker gas and trauma,” Dick muttered. “We’re getting you a bath first.”