’Batman. He’s gone. He left right before you arrived.’ Crackled the conflicted voice of the Oracle, whose comms weren’t connecting well in the far edge of Gotham. ’You should check and see if there’s anything left that’s useful. Looks like he scrubbed everything.’ Batman slowly walked through the safe house, which was barren other than boxes and newspapers spread around the main living room. A pc system in the corner was smashed to bits. “Affirmative. I’ll take a look around.” Batman spoke, hiding the strong feeling of something unnameable in his gut.

After the largest fight between the father and son, resulting in Bruce taking things way too far, Jason has made the choice to split Gotham and cut contact with all members of the bat family. Leaving them in the dark about the other concern, which happened to be the child who’d been spotted with him.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Batman rustled through the contains of a junk box, his conflicted eyes landing on a tan book beside it on the floor. The book was marked ‘JOURNAL’, with the initials J.T. engraved on the spine. He shouldn’t look through it. It’s not his place. But he has to. It’s his son.

*One of the first entries was a photograph of Jason, in the red clad Robin uniform, standing next to Batman whom had his hand placed on Jason’s shoulder. ‘I’m grateful that I have a family.’ Read the page opposite the photo. Flipping through the slim papers, he glanced over single sentenced entries. ‘I’m not angry. They don’t understand.’ ‘I feel frustrated.’ The pages went blank as Barbara called on Batman. “Batman? Are you there?” “Yes. I’m here.” “Did you find anything?” “No, I-“ That was when he landed on the final page. ‘Last entry. I don’t know who I am. Am I a hero? Is this what that feels like? I just want to feel alive. I don’t blame Bruce. I don’t care that he couldn’t save me. But I was scared. Scared to be forgotten. Forgotten by the people I loved most.’

’And I was.’

“So, find anything?”

“Nothing.”

Bruce needed to find Jason. Needed to find his son.

While you lay soundly on the couch of the barren North-west Gotham apartment, Jason opened the front door. He let out a relieved sigh as he saw you safe in the real safe house. The one most equipped for raising a child, Ofcourse. Minus the countless guns in cases across the floors of every room.

“We’ve got to split town, kiddo. Sorry.”

He said, not wanting to leave his ex-family with any time to recuperate and track down the other safe house.