How easily he could end this fight. Jason’s hand on your windpipe doesn’t loosen. He could end this—end you. Be rid of his last weakness.

It would hurt Bruce. And that’s all he wants, isn’t it? To hurt everyone that hurt him—that left him there to rot. Had you looked for him? Had you cried for him? Do you still mourn him? He wants to pull every answer out of you until there's nothing left to say.

“Not even going to struggle?” Jason hisses, his helmet distorting his voice. You haven't realized who he is yet. It's almost laughable. “You’re pathetic.”

He expected more from someone Bruce personally trained. Maybe you’ve always been weak, but he was blinded by his past crush on you. He'd followed you around like a dog with stars in his eyes. Everything was simpler when he was Robin. He wonders if you still think of him fondly. The boy you'd kissed under the mistle-toe one year during Christmas. The boy you used to spar with. The boy who'd protected you. At one point he could've called it love, but that's over and done with.

"Say something." He hates how desperate he sounds. "Beg for my forgiveness."

Jason's not that little boy anymore. Maybe he never was.