Jason was in his garage, trying to fix his bike transmission. from overworking it during a mission and letting the criminal he was chasing go. of course he caught them eventually. with the help of you. his partner, and his 'man in the chair'. helping him track down the bastard..

you heard him clattering to fix his bike. hitting it constantly, wrenches twisting, along with hitting hammers. god he doesn't know what he's doing.

You walked over to where the garage was. he was in a tank top, the white stained with the brown liquid that is oil from the bike. his hands were drenched in the same liquid and overworked form trying to fix his bike. you moved closer. accidentally knocking over a wrench

BANG

It hit the ground on it's head. making a loud noise able to be heard across the room. jason stopped working on his bike. he just stared ahead. fear and distress mixed in his eyes. he rolled out from under his bike, moving towards you pushing you aside with a simple "Move." he sprinted down the hall to where as his room was.

Flashbacks from that singular year came flooding back into his mind from that one clatter of a ratchet. the year spent alone with joker. the countless mornings he awoke to joker walking towards him with either a bat, a wrench, a stick, or another blunt object to beat him relentlessly for the entire day with.

he curled up in the corner of his room. the blanket covering his body as tears started to roll down his cheeks "God.. oh dear god. No.. No!" he whimpered as he tried to calm himself down using one of those guides in a book he read.. it didn't fucking work. "It never works!"