Persephone sat still, watching as Red Hood—or, more accurately, Jason Todd—moved across the rooftops.
She had expected him to disappear quickly, but he was clearly taking his time, probably thinking he had already lost her attention.
He was wrong.
Her eyes tracked his movements effortlessly. He was fast, fluid, his experience in parkour and rooftop traversal obvious. But as he moved, something else caught her eye.
A group.
Three figures stood on a distant rooftop, almost obscured by shadows.
One of them was a giant of a man, his silhouette broad and intimidating, with what looked like bat ears on his head.
The second was slightly smaller but still built like an acrobat, something sleek and birdlike in his stance. A blue emblem stretched across his chest, and a pair of sticks were strapped to his back.
But it was the third person who really caught her attention.
A girl.
Small, slight, barely visible in the darkness, with sleek black hair and a stillness that reminded Persephone too much of herself.
As soon as she noticed the girl, the girl noticed her.
They both tilted their heads at the same time, mirroring each other perfectly.
Persephone's lips parted slightly in surprise, but before she could process the weird synchronization, she caught something else—
A tiny quirk of the girl's lips. Almost imperceptible.
Like she was amused.
Persephone narrowed her eyes slightly, watching, but before she could continue her staring contest, the door behind her creaked open.
"Seph, c'mon," Noel's voice cut through the silence. "It's getting too cold out."
She hesitated, still staring at the strange girl—still feeling the weight of the stares from the rest of them.
But she knew she couldn't linger.
Without another glance, she stood, turned, and walked back toward the door.
Even as she stepped inside, she could feel their eyes burning into her back.
But she ignored them.
She had enough to deal with already.
Dick Grayson had faced a lot of impossible situations in his life. He had fought gods, survived being a child soldier, and once died for a few minutes before clawing his way back. He had been trained by Batman, led the Titans, and dealt with more multiversal nonsense than he cared to count.
And yet, standing on this rooftop, watching Jason talk to a tiny version of him, Dick had never felt more unprepared in his entire life.
He wasn't alone in that.
Bruce stood next to him, unmoving, arms crossed in that unreadable way he did when something rattled him. But it was Cass—quiet, observant Cass—who had been the first to pick up on what was wrong with this whole situation.
Because something was wrong.
Jason had dubbed the kid his "mini-me," which would've been funny if it wasn't also terrifyingly accurate.
The girl wasn't just some random street kid.
She looked like him. Moved like him.
And right now, despite Jason being a shadow in the dark, she was tracking his every movement.
Dick's stomach turned.
Most people couldn't see Jason move the way he did in Gotham's darkness. Jason was trained, methodical, fast—he knew how to disappear in the shadows, knew how to be unseen.
But this kid?
She followed his movements too easily.
Like she had been trained to.
Dick swallowed hard, trying to keep his breathing even.
Then Jason landed on the rooftop with them, looking smug as hell.
And then he said it.
"Persephone Grayson."
Dick's vision almost went out.
A rushing sound filled his ears, drowning out everything else.
Persephone.
It couldn't be.
But it was.
His mother's middle name was Persephone.
And her last name—his last name—was Grayson.
He felt himself lock up, his body going stiff. It felt like the entire world had just tilted, reality shifting under his feet in a way that made his chest tight, his throat close up.
This was a joke, right? A coincidence? Some weird trick?
But when he looked at the little girl again, really looked, he knew there was no way this wasn't real.
His daughter.
The very idea made his stomach twist.
A kid—his kid—was out here, alone, in Gotham's streets. Somehow, she was tracking movement no child should be able to see. Somehow, she had recognized him back at the library.
She had looked at him like she knew him.
His breath shuddered out of him, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
"Scared, but trusting."
Cass' voice was soft, but it hit him like a freight train.
His eyes snapped to her, and she was still watching Persephone, her expression unreadable but her meaning so clear.
His kid.
Scared.
But still willing to trust.
Dick's heart cracked straight down the middle.
Because all he wanted to do was go to her. Hold her. Tell her nothing was going to happen to her, that he wasn't going to let anything hurt her.
But he couldn't.
Because she didn't know him.
She was a stranger to him.
Or was she?
His mind flashed back to the library.
The way she had looked at him.
Like she knew him.
Like she had been looking for him.
His chest ached, his body fighting every instinct screaming at him to move.
Did she know?
Did she know who he was?
Did she know he was her father?
The drive back to the manor was silent.
Jason was quieter than usual, Tim kept glancing at Dick like he expected him to explode, and Damian was tense—though whether it was from curiosity or frustration at being left out of the conversation earlier, Dick couldn't tell. Cass sat beside Bruce in the front, her expression unreadable.
Dick barely heard any of it.
His mind was stuck.
Persephone Grayson.
His mother's middle name.
His last name.
His daughter.
She had recognized him. He knew it now—she had recognized him at the library.
But how?
By the time they pulled into the Batcave, Dick felt like he was coming apart at the seams.
The second they stepped inside, Bruce gave Tim a look.
Tim didn't need to be told twice. He was already at the computer before Bruce even spoke. "Name?"
"Persephone Grayson."
Dick's stomach tightened as Bruce said it aloud.
Tim's fingers flew across the keyboard, hacking into databases faster than anyone else in the cave could manage. His eyes narrowed slightly, his head tilting just a fraction as information filled the screen.
"Persephone..." Dick murmured, still trying to wrap his head around it. "That was my mom's middle name."
Jason let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's not just a coincidence."
Alfred entered the cave just as Steph jumped down the last few steps behind him, her usual energy dimmed by the obvious tension in the air.
"What's all this then?" Alfred asked, balancing a tea tray with practiced ease.
"Apparently, Dick has a daughter," Jason said, voice dry.
Steph nearly tripped over herself. "WHAT?!"
Dick opened his mouth to argue—but then Tim's voice cut through everything.
"I found something."
The cave went still.
Tim's eyes flicked between the screens, scanning rapidly before speaking. "There's a birth certificate. Persephone Grayson. Fourteen years old."
Dick's breath caught.
Tim continued. "Mother's name... Mary Parker. No father listed."
Jason muttered a curse under his breath.
Tim didn't pause, reading faster. "Mary Parker died in a plane crash almost nine years ago." His jaw tightened slightly before he continued. "Persephone was sent to her aunt—May Parker—who passed away three years ago in a car accident."
Dick's stomach dropped.
Tim hesitated before adding, "...Persephone was in the car."
The air in the cave grew thick.
"She survived," Tim continued, but his voice was lower, more careful. "But she was in a coma. For a year."
No one spoke.
Dick's hands clenched into fists.
"She woke up and was placed in foster care," Tim went on, eyes still flicking across the screen. "Last year, her foster family moved to Gotham."
There was another pause.
Then Tim frowned.
"Wait. No. They moved a week ago." His brows furrowed deeper. "Without her."
Jason's entire body tensed. "...So they just left her here?"
Tim double-checked the documents before nodding. "Looks like it."
Jason scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief before muttering, "How the hell is this kid still trusting after this shit?"
No one had an answer for that.
Dick felt like his entire world was tilting.
Foster care. A coma. Her whole family gone.
And yet—she had still looked at him with trust in her eyes.
Despite everything she had been through.
Dick swallowed hard, his vision blurring at the edges as the full weight of it crashed over him.
He had a daughter.
And she had been through hell and back.
And somehow—somehow—she was still standing.