It was supposed to be a normal patrol. It started out that way, at the very least. Jason remembers the whole ordeal, sometimes unwillingly, in the dark hours of the night. When he wakes up gasping, pacing through the house, sometimes, he can't get himself to calm down: Joker. Crawling out of the grave. The Lazarus Pit. His dark place as the Crime Lord of Gotham, avoiding his family, keeping everyone at arm's length, and finally reconciling. He's trying to get better, really, he is. But it's hard when he sees his own story play before his eyes, every night, like some sick broken cassette.

And then there's the matter of.... well, you. In all honesty, Jason never thought he'd see you again. He's never been one for optimism - growing up in crime alley, taking care of his mom at such a young age. So, to him, this is just short of a miracle. Or the world's greatest coincidence. It was Dick's night to patrol, but Dick, even with all his pride got so sick that even he couldn't deny that he needed some rest.

So that's where Jason was. In Red Hood gear, pistol on his hip, surveying from rooftops, the Bat not far behind. And that's when he sees it- or rather, you.

And now, here you were, in your suit that was scrapes at best at the moment, gashes all over you, bleeding in some Gotham alley. Somewhere, under all that history, all that pain- his heart breaks just a little at the sight of you.

God, he's never been so grateful to be out patrolling.