Chapter Text
Location: Crime Alley, 2002
Cory: Age 12
Jason: Age 10
It started with a wrench.
Not a metaphor.
A literal wrench.
Thrown clear across a grimy alley by a twelve-year-old girl in a ratty oversized hoodie, narrowly missing a startled boy’s head as he hunched over the exposed engine of a rusted-out sedan.
“Hey!” he yelped, stumbling backward, eyes wide. “What the hell?!”
Cory stalked toward him, scowling sharply behind smudged glasses, grease smeared across one cheek and knuckles raw from working with stubborn bolts. Her dark hair was escaping a messy ponytail, strands drifting into her narrowed lavender eyes. “You trying to steal my score?”
Jason glanced nervously between her and the open engine, looking both defensive and confused. “This was yours? I didn’t see a name on it.”
“Yeah, because normal people mark stolen cars with a Sharpie,” she retorted sharply. Her gaze dropped to the jumble of wires clenched tightly in his hand, and she snorted. “And you’re doing it wrong.”
Jason bristled immediately, shoulders tightening. “No I’m not!”
Cory crossed her arms, entirely unimpressed. “Really? 'Cause I pulled the battery out fifteen minutes ago. Good luck starting it.”
Jason blinked, turning quickly to stare into the empty battery compartment, his face dropping in disbelief. “Oh.”
She rolled her eyes, fighting a faint grin. “Rookie mistake.”
He flushed, embarrassed, dropping the useless wires back into the engine bay. She watched him carefully, curiosity now creeping into her guarded expression. “Who are you, anyway?”
He hesitated, wary eyes flicking back to her. “Jason,” he muttered quietly, kicking awkwardly at the cracked pavement beneath their feet.
“No last name?” Cory pressed lightly, watching him closely, testing.
“Dunno,” he said cautiously, eyes narrowing slightly. “You gonna rat me out if I give you one?”
She snorted derisively, tilting her chin up with pride. “Do I look like a fucking snitch to you?” After a beat, her voice softened slightly, almost reluctantly, as she offered, “Name’s Cory.”
They stood in silence for a long moment, sizing each other up, the distant hum of Gotham traffic echoing faintly around them. Cory finally broke the tension with cautious interest. “You steal cars often?”
Jason’s lips twitched into a crooked grin, a bit sheepish. “Mostly tires. Easier to sell, y’know? You?”
She shrugged, relaxing slightly. “Mostly batteries. Radios. Anything I can trade or fix.”
He whistled softly, impressed. “You fix stuff, too?”
Cory hesitated again, still cautious, gaze sharp behind her glasses. “Yeah. Why?”
Jason stuffed his hands into his pockets, giving another casual shrug. “Could use someone who actually knows what they’re doing. Might save me from getting hit with more flying tools.”
A small smirk broke across Cory’s face, tension visibly easing from her shoulders. “No promises.”
Jason’s grin widened, genuine this time. “Fair enough.”
And something clicked into place between them, subtle yet unmistakable. It felt like recognition. Two kids already too smart, too stubborn, and too streetwise for their own good. Two kids learning Gotham’s hardest lessons before most adults ever did:
Don’t get caught.
Stay sharp.
Trust no one.
But maybe—just maybe—there was room for one exception.
Location: Rooftop of an Abandoned Building, Later That Day
The city sprawled beneath them, a patchwork of flickering neon and rusted steel, twilight casting long, jagged shadows through empty streets. They’d climbed to the rooftop to escape the grime, sharing a candy bar Jason had skillfully lifted from a nearby bodega.
Cory sat cross-legged on the cracked rooftop, carefully patching the loose strap of Jason’s hand-me-down sneakers with a safety pin she kept in her worn backpack. Her movements were meticulous, practiced, confident in their simplicity.
Jason watched her work, amazed by the quiet certainty in her hands. In return, he showed her a better way to hotwire a vending machine, using a bent paperclip and a steady hand.
“You got family?” Cory asked suddenly, her voice low, eyes trained thoughtfully on the distant horizon, watching city lights slowly bloom to life.
Jason’s shoulders tensed slightly, his gaze turning distant, guarded. “Used to.”
“You miss ‘em?” Her question was gentle, curious without pressing too hard.
He was silent for a moment, lost in thought, then quietly admitted, “Sometimes. But it’s easier if I don’t.”
Cory nodded slowly, understanding etched into her expression, older than her twelve years. “Yeah.”
Jason glanced at her sideways, wary but curious. “What about you?”
She hesitated for a long beat, her eyes fixed somewhere far away, voice dropping into quiet honesty. “They’re alive. Doesn’t mean they’re family.”
Jason studied her carefully, recognizing something familiar in her guarded silence, the barely visible tension around her shoulders. “Hey,” he said finally, nudging her gently with his elbow. “If you ever need backup—you can call me.”
Cory raised an eyebrow, skeptical amusement replacing the earlier vulnerability. “You offering protection now?”
He met her gaze steadily, surprisingly serious for a ten-year-old street kid. “Nah. Partnership.”
She stared at him a long moment, evaluating the sincerity behind his eyes, before breaking into a reluctant, crooked smile. “Then you’re definitely gonna need better shoes.”
Jason glanced down at his patched sneakers and laughed softly, a rare warmth rising in his chest. “Good thing I know someone who can fix them.”
Cory shook her head, rolling her eyes, but her lips still curled into a small smile. “Don’t get used to it.”
But they both knew, deep down, that maybe they already had.