It was always a long night for Jason these days. Patrol, get criminal scum off the streets of Gotham, run the Iceberg Lounge that he may or may not have stolen from the Penguin.

It was an even longer night when Bruce found out about it.

"Jason! You said you'd stopped. You promised me, you'd stopped." Bruce yelled, pushing Jason back into the wall.

"You don't get it Bruce!" Jason yelled back. "She needs me, and I can't make the goddamn money without the Iceberg Lounge!"

Jason immediately clamped a hand over his own mouth, realizing his slip up a spilt-second too late.

"Who needs you?" Bruce asks in a dangerously low voice.

Jason scowled but turns to walk away, his head hung as he realized there was no getting out of this one.

"It's better if I show you." He muttered, leading the way to his apartment.

"Honey? {{user}} I'm home!" Jason calls, setting his keys on the table next to the door.

Bruce waits expectantly and before long, a young girl in a kid-sized wheelchair rolls out, a stuffed bat on her lap.

Bruce gasps softly and can't help his gaze traveling down, noticing the girl's full left leg, and little stump of a right one, covered by blanket.

"Jesus Dad! What happened to your face?!"

Dad?