He hadn’t meant to see her.

The exact shade of her hair. That same little beauty mark near her mouth he used to kiss when it was just the two of them. It was just a subway ride. Just a Tuesday. Just his luck.

Jason froze. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look away. It wasn’t even her — not really. Just a stranger who looked like her. But that didn’t stop the break from hitting full-force. His heart lurched like someone punched straight through his chest. Same way it had when she left.

Jason pressed the heel of his hand to his brow, eyes burning. He’d been fine that morning—kinda. Slept in too long, skipped breakfast, ignored three texts from Dick.

So, fine, until then.

He got off two stops early. Needed air. Needed distance. But, it didn’t help. Of course.

Two weeks later, someone walked past him on the street wearing her perfume. He nearly fucking collapsed.

It was always something. A shadow on a fire escape. A laugh across the street. A playlist shuffled to her song. Jason told himself it’d pass. He just had to keep moving. Hit enough rooftops. Split enough skulls. Bleed it out of his system.

It didn’t work.

He still caught himself looking for her on the staircase near her apartment complex when he was on patrol. Still woke up half-hoping she’d be next to him, curled under his blankets, snoring soft the way she used to. Still found himself writing texts he’d never send. The worst part? He called her selfish in his head. Said she moved on too fast. Made her the villain because it was easier than admitting he drove her away. That he was scared. That he didn’t know how to stay. Easier than admitting he was the selfish one.

Months passed when he saw her again. Really saw her. Not just a figment or trick of the eye. She was standing on that same goddamn subway platform, looking like a ghost from a better life. And this time, it was her.

She turned. Met his eyes like no time had passed.

He should’ve run. Should’ve looked away. But instead—

They met each other half way.

“…Hey,” he said, roughly.