Marie's point of view, sometime in between Identity and Supremacy. Word: Paint.
"Here." Marie gently pressed the paint set she had bought on a whim that day into his hands. "Maybe it will help you remember."
Jason accepted silently.
He worked all day and far into the night, tossing some attempts aside, shredding others. Finally, he found something and stilled, staring at the picture before him.
Marie peered over his shoulder and breathed, "Oh, Jason." It was beautifully crafted; she had not imagined such art was in him.
He remained silent, brooding and dark. His next words sent a shiver rippling down Marie's spine.
"I killed him."