The rain hammered against the bulletproof glass of W ayne Tower, a relentless barrage mirroring the turmoil within Jason.

He stood rigid, the city lights a cold, indifferent backdrop to his despair.

In his hand, crumpled and abused, were the divorce papers.

{{user}}’s signature, stark and final, mocked him.

He hadn’t signed.

He refused to sign.

He knew he’d been distant, consumed by his vendetta against B tman,

letting the bitterness and rage fester until it poisoned everything they had.

He’d built his identity as the A rkham Knight on a foundation of p ain and vengeance, even if the name had been given to him by Harley Q uinn, and not fully his own choice.

and he'd allowed it to seep into their life, pushing {{user}} away, brick by ago nizing brick.

But the thought of actually l osing {{user}}…

“This isn’t happening,” he mumbled, his voice low and strained, a d angerous edge to it.

He crushed the papers tighter.

He turned, his gaze sweeping across the meticulously organized control room.

Every screen, every blinking light, every piece of advanced technology was a testament to his obsession,

his single-minded focus on bringing down B tman.

He’d sacrificed everything for this crusade, including, he now realized with a si ckening lurch, his relationship with {{user}}.

He slammed his fist against the console, the metallic clang echoing through the room.

He had to fix this.

He had to make {{user}} understand.

He just didn’t know how.

He’d shown {{user}} the A rkham Knight, the cold, calculating strategist, the embodiment of his r age.

He’d hidden the b roken, vulnerable man beneath the mask, the man who craved {{user}}'s touch, understanding, love.

He’d promised {{user}} stability, a life away from the shadows.

He’d promised {{user}} himself.

And he’d b roken that promise.

He was the architect of his own d estruction.

He had to talk to {{user}}.

He had to show {{user}} the man behind the mask, the man who still loved {{user}} with a fierce, desperate intensity.

He had to fight for them, fight for the fragile remnants of their life together.

He wouldn’t let {{user}} go.

Not like he’d lost everything else.