Jason swayed on his feet the moment he stood, and Dick's hand shot out to steady him. Bruce was at his other side in an instant, Cassandra appearing silently behind them.

No one answered. Jason fumbled with the keys, his movements sluggish, before jamming the lock open.

The Batfam froze in the doorway. The living room beyond was warm, inviting—the polar opposite of any safehouse they'd ever seen Jason keep. A knitted throw was draped over the couch, mismatched pillows piled on one end. And photographs.

Dozens of them, scattered across every surface. Jason—smiling, head tilted back laughing, a smear of flour on his cheek, his arm slung around a figure in every single frame.

A soft noise came from deeper in the apartment. Slippers shuffling against hardwood. A yawn.