[it wasn't me he types out and immediately erases, because arguing those kinds of details isn't going to help anything, is it. tim doesn't know the entirety of this jason's story, but what jason's finally telling him about sounds like a variation on the theme of the story he already knows.]
He must've thought you were dead, Jason. I can't believe there's any version of him on any world where he wouldn't look for you if he believed you were still alive.
[tim hesitates for a moment, deciding whether to include an example. would it help jason to know what happened to his counterpart here? maybe. it's worth trying, at least.]
The Jason Todd from this world did die - not at Arkham, the circumstances were different, but it was at the Joker's hands. Batman lost who he was without Robin. I didn't intend to become Robin myself - I tried to get Dick to go back and help Batman, but he wouldn't listen to me. I don't know if it's the same for the Tim Drake you know, but if he's anything like me, he wasn't trying to replace you - he just wanted to help.
Nope, not yet. Got a couple years to go until I hit that milestone. Also I kinda like my hair, I plan on keeping it a while. I sure hope early baldness isn't in my genetic cards.
but ok, if jason's going to play hard to get, tim will go ahead and give chase. he's serious about not giving up on jason, after all, and while there may be some significant differences between this jason and the one tim knows better, tim's confident he has experience on his side. he knows where his missteps were with the other jason in the past, and he believes he can apply that information toward his approach with this jason, too. first and foremost? fight less. secondly? don't give up so easily.
tim takes to the rooftops in street clothes, not his uniform - dark jeans and boots and gloves and a black hoodie. he pulls a ping from the last location of jason's phone, moves to checking out condemned buildings and abandoned warehouses in the area, places that seem likely hideouts for jason. he'll search all night if he needs to - hell, it's just one city. tim has searched for people with a much less precise location before.]
it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that tim’s overly stubborn, that he won’t give up just like that. he doesn’t even try to text jason again, as far as he can tell. which means he’s out there, doesn’t it? making good on his threat to track jason down. he doesn’t have many civilian clothes, has never needed them, because jason doesn’t linger out in the sunlight. joker wanted to create an even darker knight than batman, and that’s what he got: someone who doesn’t idle in the sun even for a moment, a hallowed out man full of rage and anger.
tim doesn’t stand out, small frame and attire meant to hide behind—but jason catches onto him fast enough. it’s the way he’s searching through all his possible hiding places, every place jason would have considered. he doesn’t have marks on all of them—but he is smart enough to leave cameras around his own building, and in some of the ones he was considering. he lets tim wander for a while before sliding his helmet on into place and taking off after him. it’s only a few buildings over, and the grappling gun makes those few buildings take only minutes. booted feet land with a soft thud against the rooftop’s floor, just moments before he’s pulling a knife out of his belt and making his way over to tim, careful even breaths and even footsteps doing their absolute damned best to mask his presence entirely. )
[this high up, the wind would be loud enough to mask the sounds of jason's movement even if he weren't trying to conceal himself. but you develop a second sense when you're a robin, an awareness for people sneaking up behind you or from the shadows, and jason's good, but so is tim. as jason approaches, he looks up from his gauntlet, the one piece of his uniform he strapped on before beginning his search, taps a button to kill the gps tracking program, and pushes the hood back from his head.]
There you are. I thought you were going to make me run the city all night looking for you.
[he spots the knife in jason's hand and pushes a nervous smile across his mouth. he's not stupid; he has his collapsible bo staff and a handful of batarangs tucked away, but they're only a precaution. tim's not here to fight, unless jason forces his hand, and tim really hopes it doesn't come to that.]
You wouldn't have found me. ( lights flash from under the helmet's screen, barely visible under any light source but considering where they're standing(a darkdark rooftop in the dead of night), the blinking flashes of red traveling up the side of his cheek, the circle loading just to the side of that, they would be hard to miss.
tim's smile certainly doesn't go unnoticed. jason just tilts his head to the side, raises his shoulders in what's supposed to look like an easy shrug. it's not. he was hoping for a nice, quiet night, and now look at him. tim's ruined it. and he's still certainly not putting the knife away. )
You wanted my attention, short stuff--well here it is! Are you sure you want what comes next? 'cause I'm pretty eager to dig this thing right down your collar.
[he feigns disappointment, levity in his tone, like it's a joke between old friends. they're not friends, though - tim is keenly aware of that. he'd almost forgotten what having this kind of hostility leveled at him felt like. his head tips to the side, studying jason, watching for movement.]
Is that really what you want to do, Jason? Stab an unarmed teenager to death?
[maybe that's a dumb question; he's already been stabbed by jason before, though under different circumstances, in the context of combat when they both had emotions running high and hot. tim shakes his head, holds his hands out to the sides to show he's not holding any weapons.]
( he hasn't been jason todd in a while. there's a dim awareness of that; jason died years ago, tied to that chair, whimpers passing his lips, begging for batman to please come find him, please come save him. he died when joker pressed the brand to his cheek, when the agonized wail burned through his throat. when the picture of his world's tim drake was presented in front of him, showing that batman had replaced him, barely six months after jason had been kidnapped.
and now? now he's the arkham knight. "kid" to deathstroke, "sir" to some. he's become someone else, someone stronger, someone who doesn't take shit from others. who fully intends to kill batman for his transgressions. for abandoning him, replacing him, branding him like this. everything he has become and will ever be is because batman fell in front of him that day. because he got him arrested, rehomed, gave him hope.
jason todd was better off as a street rat. less damaged. and here's a small tim drake, holding his hands out to show he's unarmed, not wanting to fight him. he came because he's a tiny little pest, trying to help. and he even left the stupid, shitty robin costume back home. and tim isn't holding anything in his hands, but that doesn't quite make him unarmed.
still, jason raises a hand, unclasps the top of the helmet from the rest and pushes it up over his face, the dim blue light the electronics inside it gives off giving enough glow to outline his features; he's covered in scars. small white slits coating his face and then there's, of course, the giant "J" carved into his left cheek. )
I told you to fuck off! ( his voice breaks a bit on those words. ) I told you to leave me alone! I said I didn't need you, I'm helping myself.
[it's hard to see those scars on jason's face, physical proof of the damage that's been done to him. tim feels like flinching when jason pulls up his mask, but he keeps his gaze steady.]
You're full of shit, Jason.
[there's no trace of venom in his words, but there's no levity in them, either. there's a weight to what tim says, a seriousness that isn't quite the all-business red robin tone but falls a note steelier than how he typically speaks. tim's hands drop to his sides, and he takes a cautious step forward.]
Look, maybe I don't know everything that happened to you, but I don't need to know everything to see that it was bad. OK?
[it's always bad when the joker's involved. tim has a good imagination, but he can't wrap his head around the idea of what months and months of that sick fuck's abuse would look like, what shape the horrors jason's endured took.]
And yeah, maybe you don't need me, and maybe I'm the last person you want around, but - you said you've already been abandoned once, Jason. And I'm not going to let it happen again.
( he wanted tim to flinch. wanted to see the negative reaction it would pull from him--disgust, shock, whatever. when it doesn't happen, jason just gets even more pissy, grabs onto the entire helmet and yanks it off of his head, throws it onto the rooftop just a few feet away from them. he doesn't need it for this.
doesn't need the extra layer of protection from tim, of all people. and it pisses him off even more when tim's tone holds no disdain. when his tone's much more level than jason could manage; he doesn't have that level of calm anymore, not after the years of getting gutted out, torn to shreds, to screaming and begging and yelling and cursing until there wasn't anything left.
not in front of tim. jason takes another step forward to match tim, but he's raising the knife up along with it, turning it in his hand so the knife's angled out, hilt of the blade pressed to the outside of his hand. it's a threat: come at me, i won't hesitate. )
I don't want your pity. If that's all you came here for, then leave. I'll let you walk away, right now.
[even more difficult than seeing jason's scars is killing that marrow-deep instinct to fight when jason steps forward, threatening knife held out in his hand. tim has been trained to fight, trained to be prepared - trained well, and part of that is using every available advantage, even if it's just making his move seconds faster than his opponent. standing still while jason approaches is the antithesis of tim's training-turned-second nature, and it takes a concentrated force of will for tim to unclench his fists, take a deep breath, and think. he knows jason's stronger than he is, and that's before whatever weird military training this jason's been through is factored into the equation. he won't win this through a show of force. he can't let this escalate into a fight.]
That's not what this is about. [he shakes his head, mouth pursed in a tight frown, stands his ground and keeps his eyes locked on jason.] God, Jason, why is it so difficult for you to accept that I care about you?
( the fight or flight instinct is hardwired into every robin--himself, dick, tim. jason is well-aware of that. the fact that tim isn’t reaching for a weapon, unclenches his fists and continues to just stare him down like that’s strange as hell. he’s pushing back instincts he shouldn’t ignore, was trained to hone not shove back. or maybe it’s something beyond that. this tim isn’t weak, but jason has a fair amount of bulk and strength over him, plenty to overpower tim physically.
maybe that’s part of it. the knife stays in jason’s hand, but he doesn’t move any closer. just stops in place, still several feet away from tim. ) Because you don’t. You care about him, maybe--the other one. But he’s not me.
( they’re different. he’s the robin who died. jason’s the robin who should have died. there’s a piece4 of him that’s a little jealous, honestly; that the jason todd of this universe was put down instead of stuck in arkham for two years..ish. that he was brought back by some strange as hell time displacement, half braindead, and got to piece himself back together. the arkham knight doesn’t have those pieces to tape back together, anymore.
he isn’t broken. not in the kind of ways that are able to be repaired. all that’s left of him is the seething rage that never settles right in his gut. or at least that’s what he tells himself. )
I’m not the Red Hood. ( his voice levels out, practiced calm returning to his tone. ) I’m the Arkham Knight.
[it's not really a smart move, what tim's doing - coming in this close, fighting down his training, baring his throat and trusting jason not to rip it open with his teeth. he has no reason to trust jason - many reasons not to trust him - but this isn't pure recklessness. there's a strategy to tim's choices; this is a calculated risk.]
I care about both of you. Do you think there's just some kind of set number of slots for the people I care about?
[tim shakes his head. his heart has enough space to hold this jason - arkham knight, whatever he calls himself - along with everyone else who is important to him.]
I don't care what you call yourself. I care about you. And even if you stab me, or hate me forever, I still won't stop caring about you, Jason.
( there’s always a limit. not in numbers, perhaps, but in tolerance. and jason knows more than most that the level of tolerance it takes to deal with him is abnormally high; he’s got a few more problems than the average person, doesn’t want people to care about him, either. his death came years ago at the hand of a madman, all that’s left now is this empty husk, carved out of what made him jason and left him with nothing but rage, fear, and a need to end it all.
for someone with such a low attention span, joker sure did prove his ability to keep on task. )
You don’t even know me. ( venom’s laced in his tone, spat out without second thought—as if this is on tim, all of this is on him—and it isn’t, jason’s well-aware of that. doesn’t stop him from being a dick about it though. ) You have an idea of me, a concept, a past image you’re pretending is the same but it isn’t. I don’t know you. Hell, I barely fucking know the Tim Drake that exists back where I came from!
[the thing about tim is this: he's stubborn as hell, and when he has an idea in his mind, he doesn't give up. maybe the tim drake from jason's world is the same, and maybe if he got to know him, jason would know this, too. the native jason here was a real shit to tim at the start, and for a good while after, and tim forgave all of it, because he could understand why jason was so angry and hurt, why he chose to make tim the target of his wrath.
tim decided that jason was someone he cared about, and he's done it again with this jason. tim isn't going to be threatened off, and what he's banking on is that deep down, maybe so secretly that jason won't even acknowledge it to himself, what he wants is for someone to prove they find him worth sticking around for - the way his bruce apparently didn't.]
I don't need to know you to care about you, Jason, but - if that matters to you so much, then let me know you. Stop trying to shut me out. [his mouth purses tightly, and he takes another step toward jason, hands outstretched.] You don't know me, but you can - I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.
( and tim knows jason all-too well. better than this jason knows himself, maybe. that becomes all the more clear when tim starts stepping in towards him, extends his hands out, offers himself to jason. what he wants is someone who thinks he’s worth sticking around for, more than anything else. what he wants is to matter to someone. to not be thrown away, replaced.
jason’s stepping back in response, lips pursed tight. there’s a moment where the shock’s more than evident on his face: eyes wide and brows raised a little, but jason’s quick to push that mask back into place, the dim blue light glowing over where his eyes are.
hiding behind metal is easier than dealing with things out right. hiding his face, his voice, makes it easier to sound like he’s not broken. like there is something left inside of him that isn’t just anger and fear and hatred. in this case, it’s so much fucking easier to hide the way his voice quivers, how much tim’s offering is actually getting to him. jason doesn’t believe it for a moment. there’s a catch here somewhere, tim’s after something, and jason’s not going to give it to him. )
[tim doesn't miss any of that - the step back, the shocked expression, the pulling down of his mask. that's something they all do, isn't it - hiding behind a mask when they don't want to deal with what they're feeling. tim's guilty of it, throwing himself into a mission instead of processing his emotions; bruce does it too, and tim's seen similar enough behavior from the red hood to recognize it for what it is coming from the arkham knight.
they're all broken in their own ways, some more similar than others. maybe it just takes one broken person to truly understand another.
tim shakes his head. leaving is not gonna happen.]
No. [slowly, he takes another step forward.] Sorry, but you're stuck with me now.
[he's not actually sorry - tim knows, deep in his heart, that what he's doing is right. and if jason reacts poorly - well, tim's prepared for it. he's been through round after round with the red hood; he's been beaten and stabbed, and he always forgave jason for it. it's no different with this jason - he's been hurt so badly, and that's where his actions come from, pain and anger. the only way to combat that is with love and understanding.]
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He must've thought you were dead, Jason. I can't believe there's any version of him on any world where he wouldn't look for you if he believed you were still alive.
[tim hesitates for a moment, deciding whether to include an example. would it help jason to know what happened to his counterpart here? maybe. it's worth trying, at least.]
The Jason Todd from this world did die - not at Arkham, the circumstances were different, but it was at the Joker's hands. Batman lost who he was without Robin. I didn't intend to become Robin myself - I tried to get Dick to go back and help Batman, but he wouldn't listen to me. I don't know if it's the same for the Tim Drake you know, but if he's anything like me, he wasn't trying to replace you - he just wanted to help.
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death was a luxury i wasn't given
b didn't look for me
he replaced me within months
the tim drake i know is a six foot asshole
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i'm blocking your number
good luck
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You know I have more than one phone, right?
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but ok, if jason's going to play hard to get, tim will go ahead and give chase. he's serious about not giving up on jason, after all, and while there may be some significant differences between this jason and the one tim knows better, tim's confident he has experience on his side. he knows where his missteps were with the other jason in the past, and he believes he can apply that information toward his approach with this jason, too. first and foremost? fight less. secondly? don't give up so easily.
tim takes to the rooftops in street clothes, not his uniform - dark jeans and boots and gloves and a black hoodie. he pulls a ping from the last location of jason's phone, moves to checking out condemned buildings and abandoned warehouses in the area, places that seem likely hideouts for jason. he'll search all night if he needs to - hell, it's just one city. tim has searched for people with a much less precise location before.]
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it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that tim’s overly stubborn, that he won’t give up just like that. he doesn’t even try to text jason again, as far as he can tell. which means he’s out there, doesn’t it? making good on his threat to track jason down. he doesn’t have many civilian clothes, has never needed them, because jason doesn’t linger out in the sunlight. joker wanted to create an even darker knight than batman, and that’s what he got: someone who doesn’t idle in the sun even for a moment, a hallowed out man full of rage and anger.
tim doesn’t stand out, small frame and attire meant to hide behind—but jason catches onto him fast enough. it’s the way he’s searching through all his possible hiding places, every place jason would have considered. he doesn’t have marks on all of them—but he is smart enough to leave cameras around his own building, and in some of the ones he was considering. he lets tim wander for a while before sliding his helmet on into place and taking off after him. it’s only a few buildings over, and the grappling gun makes those few buildings take only minutes. booted feet land with a soft thud against the rooftop’s floor, just moments before he’s pulling a knife out of his belt and making his way over to tim, careful even breaths and even footsteps doing their absolute damned best to mask his presence entirely. )
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There you are. I thought you were going to make me run the city all night looking for you.
[he spots the knife in jason's hand and pushes a nervous smile across his mouth. he's not stupid; he has his collapsible bo staff and a handful of batarangs tucked away, but they're only a precaution. tim's not here to fight, unless jason forces his hand, and tim really hopes it doesn't come to that.]
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tim's smile certainly doesn't go unnoticed. jason just tilts his head to the side, raises his shoulders in what's supposed to look like an easy shrug. it's not. he was hoping for a nice, quiet night, and now look at him. tim's ruined it. and he's still certainly not putting the knife away. )
You wanted my attention, short stuff--well here it is! Are you sure you want what comes next? 'cause I'm pretty eager to dig this thing right down your collar.
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[he feigns disappointment, levity in his tone, like it's a joke between old friends. they're not friends, though - tim is keenly aware of that. he'd almost forgotten what having this kind of hostility leveled at him felt like. his head tips to the side, studying jason, watching for movement.]
Is that really what you want to do, Jason? Stab an unarmed teenager to death?
[maybe that's a dumb question; he's already been stabbed by jason before, though under different circumstances, in the context of combat when they both had emotions running high and hot. tim shakes his head, holds his hands out to the sides to show he's not holding any weapons.]
I don't want to fight you.
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and now? now he's the arkham knight. "kid" to deathstroke, "sir" to some. he's become someone else, someone stronger, someone who doesn't take shit from others. who fully intends to kill batman for his transgressions. for abandoning him, replacing him, branding him like this. everything he has become and will ever be is because batman fell in front of him that day. because he got him arrested, rehomed, gave him hope.
jason todd was better off as a street rat. less damaged. and here's a small tim drake, holding his hands out to show he's unarmed, not wanting to fight him. he came because he's a tiny little pest, trying to help. and he even left the stupid, shitty robin costume back home. and tim isn't holding anything in his hands, but that doesn't quite make him unarmed.
still, jason raises a hand, unclasps the top of the helmet from the rest and pushes it up over his face, the dim blue light the electronics inside it gives off giving enough glow to outline his features; he's covered in scars. small white slits coating his face and then there's, of course, the giant "J" carved into his left cheek. )
I told you to fuck off! ( his voice breaks a bit on those words. ) I told you to leave me alone! I said I didn't need you, I'm helping myself.
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You're full of shit, Jason.
[there's no trace of venom in his words, but there's no levity in them, either. there's a weight to what tim says, a seriousness that isn't quite the all-business red robin tone but falls a note steelier than how he typically speaks. tim's hands drop to his sides, and he takes a cautious step forward.]
Look, maybe I don't know everything that happened to you, but I don't need to know everything to see that it was bad. OK?
[it's always bad when the joker's involved. tim has a good imagination, but he can't wrap his head around the idea of what months and months of that sick fuck's abuse would look like, what shape the horrors jason's endured took.]
And yeah, maybe you don't need me, and maybe I'm the last person you want around, but - you said you've already been abandoned once, Jason. And I'm not going to let it happen again.
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doesn't need the extra layer of protection from tim, of all people. and it pisses him off even more when tim's tone holds no disdain. when his tone's much more level than jason could manage; he doesn't have that level of calm anymore, not after the years of getting gutted out, torn to shreds, to screaming and begging and yelling and cursing until there wasn't anything left.
not in front of tim. jason takes another step forward to match tim, but he's raising the knife up along with it, turning it in his hand so the knife's angled out, hilt of the blade pressed to the outside of his hand. it's a threat: come at me, i won't hesitate. )
I don't want your pity. If that's all you came here for, then leave. I'll let you walk away, right now.
But it's the only chance you're going to get.
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That's not what this is about. [he shakes his head, mouth pursed in a tight frown, stands his ground and keeps his eyes locked on jason.] God, Jason, why is it so difficult for you to accept that I care about you?
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maybe that’s part of it. the knife stays in jason’s hand, but he doesn’t move any closer. just stops in place, still several feet away from tim. ) Because you don’t. You care about him, maybe--the other one. But he’s not me.
( they’re different. he’s the robin who died. jason’s the robin who should have died. there’s a piece4 of him that’s a little jealous, honestly; that the jason todd of this universe was put down instead of stuck in arkham for two years..ish. that he was brought back by some strange as hell time displacement, half braindead, and got to piece himself back together. the arkham knight doesn’t have those pieces to tape back together, anymore.
he isn’t broken. not in the kind of ways that are able to be repaired. all that’s left of him is the seething rage that never settles right in his gut. or at least that’s what he tells himself. )
I’m not the Red Hood. ( his voice levels out, practiced calm returning to his tone. ) I’m the Arkham Knight.
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I care about both of you. Do you think there's just some kind of set number of slots for the people I care about?
[tim shakes his head. his heart has enough space to hold this jason - arkham knight, whatever he calls himself - along with everyone else who is important to him.]
I don't care what you call yourself. I care about you. And even if you stab me, or hate me forever, I still won't stop caring about you, Jason.
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for someone with such a low attention span, joker sure did prove his ability to keep on task. )
You don’t even know me. ( venom’s laced in his tone, spat out without second thought—as if this is on tim, all of this is on him—and it isn’t, jason’s well-aware of that. doesn’t stop him from being a dick about it though. ) You have an idea of me, a concept, a past image you’re pretending is the same but it isn’t. I don’t know you. Hell, I barely fucking know the Tim Drake that exists back where I came from!
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tim decided that jason was someone he cared about, and he's done it again with this jason. tim isn't going to be threatened off, and what he's banking on is that deep down, maybe so secretly that jason won't even acknowledge it to himself, what he wants is for someone to prove they find him worth sticking around for - the way his bruce apparently didn't.]
I don't need to know you to care about you, Jason, but - if that matters to you so much, then let me know you. Stop trying to shut me out. [his mouth purses tightly, and he takes another step toward jason, hands outstretched.] You don't know me, but you can - I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.
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jason’s stepping back in response, lips pursed tight. there’s a moment where the shock’s more than evident on his face: eyes wide and brows raised a little, but jason’s quick to push that mask back into place, the dim blue light glowing over where his eyes are.
hiding behind metal is easier than dealing with things out right. hiding his face, his voice, makes it easier to sound like he’s not broken. like there is something left inside of him that isn’t just anger and fear and hatred. in this case, it’s so much fucking easier to hide the way his voice quivers, how much tim’s offering is actually getting to him. jason doesn’t believe it for a moment. there’s a catch here somewhere, tim’s after something, and jason’s not going to give it to him. )
Go back. You don’t belong out here.
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they're all broken in their own ways, some more similar than others. maybe it just takes one broken person to truly understand another.
tim shakes his head. leaving is not gonna happen.]
No. [slowly, he takes another step forward.] Sorry, but you're stuck with me now.
[he's not actually sorry - tim knows, deep in his heart, that what he's doing is right. and if jason reacts poorly - well, tim's prepared for it. he's been through round after round with the red hood; he's been beaten and stabbed, and he always forgave jason for it. it's no different with this jason - he's been hurt so badly, and that's where his actions come from, pain and anger. the only way to combat that is with love and understanding.]
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