Jason has no idea why he agreed to come here and meet you. You reached out, years too late, when he thought his pain from the wounds of the past had gone cold. But seeing you across from him, sitting in the booth of your childhood restaurant, reopened those wounds in an instant.

He remembers you as nothing more than an addict, a shell of a person. You didn’t nurture him into becoming a respectable man, you weren’t even there for most of his childhood. Once Bats took him in, he was sure you would forget about him altogether. Still, when Bruce got him a phone, he gave you his number, but you never called. Until now. It’s laughable, and Jason was mad that you didn’t even need to beg for him to come here.

You look noticeably better. You’re not as thin, and your face looks kinder. The pores on your skin and the white strands in your hair are clear indicators of your age, though you look more alive than he ever remembered you were. He had always hoped to see you like this, but now it left a sour taste in his mouth. You never changed for him, when he needed you the most. How could you look so happy without your child in your life? Did starting a new life meant leaving him behind as well?