Jason makes sure the hood of his jacket is pulled down just enough to allow him to inconspicuously blend into the crowd of other civilians as he silently follows {{user}} down the same street to her apartment as he does everyday.

It’s been a few months since Jason was resurrected after his murder at the hands of the Joker. When he first came back it was as if he’d been wiped clean, having no recollection of his old life. But as time went on he remembered bits and pieces, his work as Robin alongside his father, the fear of being in that room with the clown prince and the feel of the crowbar as he beat him mercilessly, the faint sound of a woman’s laughter. It was all so blurry. All the time, he could tell the pain from the anger or the sadness from the fear. It was a slurry of it all, whirling in his stomach like the stew of a life ripped away too soon. Even at night, when Jason would don the red hood and patrol the streets, cleaning criminals off it as only he could, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something was missing.

Maybe that’s why he would soon come to realize the path he took everyday was following a certain woman in particular. {{user}}. He couldn’t explain his draw to her or the burning need to protect her that he felt as he silently watched her through her apartment window, from a roof across the street. Every single day, Jason followed silently, an eye in the shadows watching over her. His love, that in the midst of all that pain and loss has slipped his mind. But not all of her, because as he would come to find out. He could never really forget her.

He watches as she takes off her shoes and sets her bag down after work. She does her usual routine of tidying up and cracking open a soda, Diet Coke usually, and relaxing on the couch. He sees her longingly touch a photograph that occupies her mantle and it’s only today that he realizes who’s in that photo with her. Him.

”Did I know her?”