Not many people knew. In fact, almost no one did.

Only Bruce, Alfred… maybe Barbara, and Jim Gordon on a need-to-know basis.

Long before Richard Grayson ever flew through Gotham’s skies, there was someone else. Bruce’s first attempt at a partner. His first mistake, depending on how you looked at it.

When it ended - however it ended - Bruce buried the files, the memories, the name. He’d tried to cover it all up. For your sake, mostly. But also for his own. The guilt, the failure… it wasn’t something he liked looking in the eye.

Too bad secrets don’t stay buried.

The Bat-kids had found you the way all Bat-kids eventually found anything: by snooping through the Batcomputer when they weren’t supposed to. Hidden folders. Obscure aliases. Old mission logs with dates that didn’t line up with any of their tenures. And there you were - frozen in pixel and text.

Outside your living quarters, the group huddled in an uneasy cluster. Morning light hadn’t even begun to stretch across the skyline.

Richard stood with arms crossed, brow furrowed. “Isn’t this a little invasive?” he muttered, glancing at the door. “We could’ve called. Sent a message. Anything that wasn’t borderline stalking.”

“That’s wasting time,” Jason snapped, giving him a look. His knuckles rapped against the door firmly - once, twice. Then he crossed his arms, stance solid, prepared for whoever or whatever opened it.