It was still hard to believe any of this was true.  Sheâd watched the tapes the first time, heard the gunshot  ( smelled the cordite from his gun all over again  ), and watched his body go limp in the chair.  It was something sheâd never forget, even if she didnât have her eidetic memory.  No one could ever forget such a sight or the painful sobs from someone sheâd known and loved right before he drew his last breath.  And yet, here she sat, watching the tape once again in an attempt to find something theyâd missed.  The rabbit in the hat, so to speak, on how Joker pulled off his greatest âjokeâ yet.  She rewinds over and over again, zooming in whenever she could, the video played frame by frame, but she canât decipher if the gunshot was real or not.  That was when she heard him.
     Her heart drops and guilt consumes her.  What was she doing ? Was this some twisted joke ? Some personal satisfaction to find out what sheâd missed ?  â   Itâs not what it looks like.   â  Barbara quickly turns the screen off, as if that somehow would make her look far less incriminating than a moment before.  â   I just ⊠itâs still hard to believe ⊠  â  She looks ashamed of herself, maybe she should be.  He was there.  There was no denying he was back and after all sheâd seen in her days in this world, she should know anything was possible.  She just began to believe these miracles, no matter the outcome, were for people like them.
he wasnât looking for a reunion or a trip down memory lane.  mostly, he was looking for a distraction.  time away from his thoughts, maybe find a friend deep down somewhere.  someone he had lost once before and wanted to find once again.  everything was torn from him and replaced with nothing but hatred.  it was all-consuming, and in the span of a single night, everything was taken from him again.  time away from that? itâs what he wanted.  but what he got was it all spat in his face.  memories of a time better left to nightmares flashing on a screen.  his very dead body and a very happy joker the cause of it.  a year of torture, all to culminate with jokerâs bullet and nothing but darkness.  maybe she didnât mean to, but it was a replay of jokerâs greatest hit.  and for what? answers? there were no answers to be found.  but jason was left with questions. Â
      â  am i interrupting, barbara? maybe i should have knocked.   â  anger and poison laced in his tone, hands balling into a tight fist.  does he lash out? does he leave? he expected this from bruce, hidden in the cave and making sure to cover his tracks.  this, he didnât expect.  not from her.  teeth grind along, stepping forward and further into the room.  the feed is cut off, but that wasnât enough to assuage him.  â  --- what? you saw the tape.  i died, right there, under arkham.  under all of your noses.   â  it took everything for him not to put a bullet in her monitor, or for him to find all traces of that footage and wipe it.  no, it had to be preserved, because she and bruce need to keep tabs on their project.  â  after this one, whatâs next? i could probably find the footage of those kids he dismembered and sewed up to lure me there.  maybe he taped it when i was dipped into the lazarus pit after he killed me.   â
