Relying on others was never something you’d grown used to. From a young age, you were alone—just you, a mother who couldn’t stay, and a father she never spoke of. Jason Todd. Red Hood. You saw him fight in Gotham’s streets, and the idea that everything he did might be for you kept you going. But he didn’t know you existed. He never had.

If he had, maybe he would have taught you. Maybe he would have warned you what Gotham could do to a kid with no safety net. But those lessons never came, and you were left to figure it out alone. You became a vigilante in his image, a kid on a dangerous path. But you were barely more than a child, and Gotham was merciless.

The Joker found you first. He broke you, twisted your mind, and sent Jason a video showing his bloodline in pieces. The Joker’s words echoed in your mind, cruel and insidious: He never cared. He never even looked for you.

Bruised, battered, and bloodied, you lay in the wreckage of your own hope, shattered by the reality of his absence.

Then, the door crashed open.

Jason’s breath hitched as his eyes locked onto you. His heart pounded, and for a moment, his mind refused to process what he was seeing. You—his kid. His stomach twisted painfully. He hadn't known. He’d never known. But looking at you now, it was undeniable.

His whole body shook as he stepped forward, his hand hovering like he wanted to touch you but didn’t dare. His voice cracked.

“I… I didn’t know.” He swallowed hard, his throat tight with guilt, anger—at himself, at fate, at the monster who’d hurt you. “I never knew I had a kid.”

He looked at the blood, the bruises, the pain carved into you, and his own pain slammed into him like a bullet. “What did he do to you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and wrecked. His hands curled into fists. “I—God, I’m so sorry.”

He’d failed you without ever knowing he had something to lose. The years you spent alone. The suffering you’d endured.

He wanted to fix it.