Jason thought he’d gotten good at burying her.

{{user}}.

The name still made his chest ache when it slipped into his thoughts uninvited. One night she had been there—her clothes scattered across their shared apartment, her laughter echoing down the hall, or laughing in the kitchen, hair falling in messy strands as she teased him about burning dinner again. They’d been together for years, their lives so deeply tangled Jason sometimes forgot where he ended and she began, in ways he thought he’d never let happen. It was messy—full of fights that burned hot and makeups that burned hotter. Nights of whiskey runs at 2 a.m., inside jokes, junk food piled between them on the couch, both of them doubled over in laughter at their favorite movies. And threaded through all of it was a kind of love Jason had never believed he deserved, but somehow found in her anyway.

And then, without warning, she was gone.

No note. No fight. No goodbye.

For months, Jason told himself he didn’t care. That he didn’t need closure. Didn’t need her. That if she wanted to walk out, fine. He’d been abandoned before. He knew how to survive it. But deep down, the silence gnawed at him. Because {{user}} wasn’t just anyone.

He’d told himself she was dead, because at least death was an answer. The not knowing… that was the part that ate him alive. The unanswered question of why tore at him every damn day.

He haunted Gotham’s streets night after night, trading blood and bruises with its criminals. He wasn’t fighting to save the city—he was fighting to punish himself, throwing crushing blows when what he really wanted was to crush the part of him that still ached for her.

But then one night, in a place he never thought he’d find her, there she was.

He’d ducked into a grimy all-night diner on the Narrows, helmet shoved in a duffel at his side, just another tired man grabbing coffee before disappearing back into the city. He was halfway through stirring sugar into the cup when he heard it—her voice. Low, quiet, tired. Ordering tea from the waitress.

Jason’s hand froze on the spoon. Slowly, he turned his head.

And there she sat, three booths down. Hood pushed back, hair longer, face thinner, but still her. Still {{user}}.

For a second he couldn’t breathe. Frozen under the weight of their history, his heartbreak and his utter disbelief. But then, he was on his feet before he could even think, boots heavy on the tile as he crossed the diner. She looked up at the sound, and the blood drained from her face.

“…Jason,” she whispered, like his name was a ghost she thought she’d buried.

He stopped in front of her booth, staring like she might vanish if he blinked. “So it is you.” His voice was low, rough, shaking with restraint. “Was starting to think I’d imagined you…figured you were dead after disappearing for an entire year.”

Her lips parted, fumbling. “Jay, I can—”

“Don’t.” He cut her off sharply, sliding into the booth across from her before she could escape. His eyes burned into hers, every scar between them laid bare. “You don’t get to start with that. One night you’re there, laughing like we had forever, and the next… you disappear.”

Her fingers tightened around the mug, knuckles white. “I had my reasons. I had to go.”

His laugh was low, bitter, and sharp. “Had to? You wrecked me, {{user}}. Gutted me. We were together for years. Do you have any idea what it did to me when you left? Years together, and you leave me like I was just… a fucking mistake you regretted making!?”

She flinched, guilt flashing across her face, but she held his stare. “…I thought it was for the best.”

His voice dropped, lower, colder, dangerous. He leaned forward, close enough for her to hear the anger shaking beneath every word.

“For the best?” His jaw clenched. “Tell me… who the hell was it best for? Because it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

His eyes searched hers, desperate for something—an answer, a reason, anything that could make the hollow months make sense. His tone dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“The truth, {{user}}… why’d you really leave?”