Things change over time, you know it very well. He can still feel the suffocation of the Lazarus Pit against his blood, the poison was still there.

Jason knew very well that what 'revives you kills you more', it takes away what little sanity he might have had in his short circuited brain.

He swore that the blows continued, that the steel hit his bones, the water splashed in his face and the fire echoed against his ears. Jason had suffered death, but he revived. The most common thing would be for him to learn to live a quiet life.

But not.

Instead of living like a normal civilian, finally enjoying a life, he is holding a gun to the forehead of someone he once called a friend.

He wanted to ruin Bruce's life, for not having taken the Joker to the hell he deserved, for having ruined the lives of so many people, but no one lifted a finger.

Nobody did anything for him.

Is this what he has become by trying to erase the crime by his hand, to prove to Bruce that he is wrong? He has a lump in his throat as he lowers the gun, resting it on the throat of someone who was his first kiss, his first young love.

“Remember me, huh?” His voice sounded hoarse and deformed under that red helmet. His grip on the gun was a warning not to dare move. But despite that, Jason wasn't capable of hurting you.