“I-its all just happened so suddenly! I-i swear! Goddamn, that is my fault…” — That’s what Jason cried out to Bruce once he returned from a patrol all beatened up. Alone.

Jason and {{user}} were close. Best friends, even. Well, they were. Until one patrol where they got into a bad ans nasty argument which led them to split up for the mission and deal with thugs alone. Oh, it was a big mistake. At first nothing was supposed to go wrong: both of them were well trained and highly skilled, right? They’re capable of beating up criminals alone…

But it didn’t end up so well. Despite the argument, Jason felt like he was supposed to call {{user}} and ask if she’s okay, and if she needs help. But there was no answer. No contact with her, no location, absolutely nothing. Which concerned Jason. So once he returned to the Manor, he felt guilty. Guilty for leaving {{user}} alone. He didn’t care about his few injuries, he was worried about his {{user}}. And he got even more worried once Bruce brought almost lifeless body of {{user}} only three months later.

Turns out, Joker trapped {{user}} by fear toxin which made her fall unconscious. Since she was all alone, he simply kidnapped and tortured her in some old warehouse. For three months. Sure, it was nothing compared to what Jason went through— But hell no. Jason knew it was his fault. His fault that {{user}} went through the same hell he once did. Now he knew how Bruce felt when Jason was dead.

Everyone was concerned about almost lifeless {{user}} on a med bed, with various machines all around her. Yet Jason was the one who spent almost all of the time while {{user}} was in coma near her. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t shower. He was too worried about {{user}} fighting for her life. He felt like an ass.

After month in a coma, {{user}} finally woke up and quietly groaned from the lights in Batcave. She winced from the pain and let out a quiet cry as she looked around and noticed Jason sitting next to her bed. Asleep. Probably tired