A/N: *Looks at the date the last chapter was posted* Holy guacamole, Batman! Has it really been that long! Sorry for the delay folks. I should use grad school as an excuse, but truth is, i've neglected this fic because i was very dissatisfied with this chapter, which i had written and finished months ago. sooo i just scrapped the entire thing and wrote a completely new one two days ago. It's the fifth time this has happened during the course of writing this fic. There's only one chappie left along with an epilogue... that is if i don't go on another scrapping binge. anyway, this is a bit short, but more will follow soon, i promise! So here goes! Enjoy!

Three days have passed since Terry last saw Jazz. He had tried calling and texting but eventually gave up when no reply was received. It's clear she wants to be left alone. Now with the crisis averted, it's time for her to hide in her cave once again like an elusive snow leopard, only appearing when she wants to. However, Terry didn't want to let her off the hook that easily. He wanted to talk to her about what he saw in the cave when he found her caressing his scar; she looked vulnerable and sad at the same time. What was she thinking about?

Growing restless from the curiosity, Terry decides to take a run before the sun sets and his patrol begins. He drives to the trail he had taken Jazz to a few days ago, thinking it was tough enough to warm him up before facing the streets tonight. After stretching a few times, he puts his ear buds in, selects a playlist, and starts up the winding trail. He tries to repress the fact that he performed better when Jazz was his running partner and decides nest time he will bring Ace along so he wouldn't feel the loneliness.

It takes him fifteen minutes longer than usual to reach the highest viewing platform, and when he does, he leans over resting hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. Once under control, he finally straightens up, he realizes for the first time he's not alone anymore. He finds a woman leaning on the banister of the platform, her face turned out to the city tinged by the setting sun's orange light. With her back turned to him, he can see her shirt soaking in sweat and assumes she must have just finished her run as well. Although he can't see her face, he feels there's something familiar about her.

Taking his ear pods out, he takes a few steps forward, his head tilted to the side trying to catch a glimpse of her face. He finally gets a chance when she slightly turns her head in his direction, and his heart takes a sharp dive when he recognizes Jazz. She hasn't taken notice of him yet, so he takes a moment to compose himself and slowly approaches her. When she hears him walk up, Jazz's head whips in his direction and freezes with surprise as she watches him stand beside her.

Terry silently takes the same pose as her, leaning on elbows propped on the banister, and looks out at the city. A quiet moment passes between the two, neither one sure how to start. Finally, after what seems long enough, Terry decides to break the silence.

"So, what's up?" He light-heartedly asks turning to look into her wide eyes.

Blinking a few times to return to her sense, Jazz looks away. She knows he resorts to humor when he doesn't want to force a subject on her, which only means he wants to talk about the very subject he's trying not to force. However, she's not ready to confess anything yet. When she straightens up, Terry can tell she's ready to flee; so to keep her from escaping, he quickly grabs hold of her hand and faces her. He's done playing cat and mouse; it's time to lay it out.

"What the hell's been going on with you, Douglas?" He asks, sounding harsher than he wants to.

She avoids his gaze and tries pulling her hand away, but Terry has a firm grip on it. "Nothing," she replies even though she knows that answer won't suffice.

Terry lifts her chin with a finger forcing her to look into his face. The sky blue eyes she's familiar with seem darker now, as though storm clouds moved in to replace the serenity they usually hold. It's a sight that only cripples her with guilt.

"I can't go back," she finally blurts out, feeling like she's the cause behind those clouds.

"No one is asking you to," he calmly replies, letting go of her chin.

"You don't need to ask; I can tell you want me to."

Terry sighs as he lets go of her and runs a hand through his hair. "But I never asked," he repeats ignoring the few sweat soaked locks of hair that fall over his eyes. "Jazz, I just want to know what happened three months ago."

"Why?"

"Because I just do," he replies in a desperate voice that betrays his composed face.

Jazz swallows hard as she searches for the right words. "I'm afraid of what I'm becoming," she finally whispers while, looking out at the city. Terry frowns at her before leaning one elbow on the banister and waiting for her to continue. "Ever since Spain, I feel like a psychopath that hasn't snapped yet. The thoughts I had on that bus, Terry…" Her voice trails off when she remembers the disturbing images that almost turned her into a monster.

"You wanted Nick dead," Terry tries finishing for her.

"Worse; I wanted him to suffer… by my hand. I'm capable of killing, Terry, and at the time, I was more than willing to do it." She shakes her head with disgust. "I wasn't happy with the verdict; life in prison isn't enough punishment."

"Why'd you leave?" Terry suddenly asks, trying to form a connection.

"Because every face I saw on the street was his. It would have been just a matter of time until I snapped and someone ends up dead because of me."

When she finally looks at him, he can see real fear in her gaze. He nods with understanding as he tries to think of something reassuring to say. But what could be said in this situation? "Oh, you'd never do something like that"? No, that's ridiculous and a waste of his breath. He turns his eyes towards the city, the orange rays bouncing off the glass of skyscrapers making it look like it's been dusted with glitter. As they roam, he finds the old district, within it the theater Bruce had tried so hard to save. They then move east to where his father's apartment stands, remembering the ugly graffiti covering the walls as he raced through the hallway only to find his father shot to death and his blood staining the floor beneath his body. He closes his eyes for a moment to wash away the guilt and grief that accompany the memory before turning them over to Jazz.

"Why'd you come back to Gotham?" He finally asks making her frown.

"What do you mean?"

"You got dragged through the coals because of this city, because of what this place does to people. And you out of all people had the perfect opportunity to never come back. But you didn't. You came back. Why?"

She pauses to think about his question. He's right; she could have stayed away from the city where her father's life was stolen, where she had lost her family to greed and corruption, where she struggled the most. And since her last group home was in Chicago before she aged out of the system, she had no ties to Gotham, no friends or family to connect her here, no logical reason to return to the place that only reminds her of what she's lost. So why did she come back? When her eyes turn to the uneven skyline, the corner of her bruised lip turns up into a smile.

"Because I was made here," she replies, making Terry smile with her.

He knows what she means; here is where the shy and quiet girl turned into a resilient, fearless woman. Her character was forged here, as was his. Warren's death awakened Terry's instinct to protect. Bruce's loss created the legend that kept Gotham from spiraling into a whirlpool of decay and hatred. This was a city that took away only to give something else back, and it gave Jazz pride and gallantry that helped her stand tall.

"Why didn't you let Powers die?" Jazz suddenly asks, taking Terry by surprise.

His smile disappears when he remembers the night on the submarine with Blight and his son. All he had to do was watch Paxton finish the job, but something caused him to save a murderer.

"Because dad would never be proud of a son who has blood on his hands."

Neither would her father, she realizes. "I'm sorry," she suddenly apologizes.

"For what?"

"Being so difficult," she replies.

"We all have demons to face," Terry shrugs, understanding the root of her strange behavior. "And Jazz, that fear of turning into a monster," he adds, bringing her to lock eyes with his, "that's what keeps you human."

It's the conviction in his gaze, one he earned from experience, that stops her from questioning his statement. She's trusted the man before her for as long as she's known him, so she's not about to stop now. Watching her eyes soften because of his unconditional support breathes new life into Terry, a feeling he's missed. He can tell from her smile that no matter what path Jazz chooses, he's been quietly reassured that she will continue to remain a presence in his life.

"You're late," Bruce scolds turning his chair around to watch his mentee descent the stairs.

"I know," Terry unapologetically replies as he heads to an alcove to change.

A calm aura seems to resonate from the young man as he walks by, and Bruce can't help but notice the change. It becomes more obvious later that night during an unexpected gang war that erupted in the heart of the city. Terry moves with familiar grace and ease; the lightness in his step has returned making him faster, more agile, and harder to target. Bruce hasn't seen him fight like this in months, making him wonder what could have dragged his protégé out of the depressed fog he was in. Regardless of what happened though, he's glad Terry is finally back and better than ever.

- to be continued - reviews welcome -