"Not forever," says Jason, misreading her distress. "Just until he - " Jason waves his hand. "Figures it out. That this place isn't Gotham, and he can't do whatever the fuck he wants, not to me or anybody else he thinks shoots children."

Falling silent with a stuttered breath, Jason rubs his fingers over the scar on his throat, a year healed and still red. "The last time I saw him, I got this. I asked him to kill the Joker, and he cut me instead. He hates me, Lux. The Joker's filled fucking graveyards full of people he cares about, and he'd rather put me down."