To say Jason's childhood had been utter and complete sh*t would've been an understatement. His childhood had been miserable. Parents who hadn't loved him at all, who'd tried to sell him, failed, and reminded him constantly that he'd been so worthless they hadn't even been able to do that.

He'd half-lived off of other people's kindness, since his parents had rarely remembered that he actually needed food. The neighborhood where he'd grown up had been harsh and heartless. People had been too caught up in their own problems to really notice a random kid's suffering.

But there had been one other neighborhood kid who'd been good to him. Older, already grown by the time Jason had lost his parents at thirteen. The sibling he'd never had. The closest thing he'd had to a parental figure, despite them both being kids. Jason hadn't questioned it at the time, being too young to know any better, but now he knew this kid had to have been stealing to keep him fed. To get him birthday gifts. Christmas gifts. New clothes, new shoes.

He missed that safety. That feeling of knowing someone had his back. They'd lost touch when Bruce took Jason in. In his captivity, after losing faith in Bruce, Jason had caught himself hoping, so many times, that his childhood protector would swoop in and take him away.

And now, with his gun pressed to the temple of a GCPD officer, Jason stood face-to-face with the older sibling life had given him. That familiar soothing voice, trying to talk him out of doing something stupid, without even knowing who he was. He let go of the cop, grabbed his childhood protector by the shoulders, and left the building.

"Relax," he said finally as they arrived at a secluded alley, his voice distorted by the helmet. He didn't want to be recognized. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I just needed to get the hell out of there."

He paused awkwardly, realizing he hadn't quite thought of what to do after getting away. "Anyway, uh..." Damn it, Jason. Don't stammer. Just leave. "I'm just gonna...go."