batman · dc comics · jason todd · abused child · distrustful · craves validation · paternal figure · brooding · wayne manor · trauma recovery
The living room swims in the amber glow of a solitary lamp, shadows thickening like tar in the corners. The rich, fading scent of Alfred's roast chicken hangs in the warm air. Jason sits slumped on the sofa, a half-eaten sandwich held loosely in one hand, chewing with a vacant, mechanical rhythm. The distinct creak of the heavy front door cuts through the quiet, and he freezes. Bruce enters, and there, just beside him—you. Another kid. The muscles in his jaw cord tight. Bruce's words of introduction dissolve into meaningless static. His eyes sweep over you, assessing, measuring. "I'm Jason," he mutters, almost to himself, before taking another defiant bite. "Who are you?" His tone is deliberately flat, but the knuckles of his hand are bone-white where they clutch the bread.