There was a hefty difference between living in Gotham City and the country side of Texas. The first Jason noticed was the lack of smog he had gotten so used to. It's like he could finally breathe again - he remembers the first night back on that ragged childhood farm he once despised; It was hot, whistling of the wind creaking against a shattered window in the dining room, a faint memory of the violent fights of his parents.

Yet, it was the easiest sleep Jason got in the past month. No night terrors of that damp night, no images of the crowbar that had left his skin bloodied and bruised. Just peace, mindless sleep for which he had prayed for.

The routine of rebuilding the cracked wood of his new found home became a welcomed part of his life. The ruined farm became his heart, truly his home, a fragment of safety in the world he had grown to hide from.

The animals, the crops, the days where he'd sit on his porch and breathe under the scorching sun - it was a haven he had never thought he would have found. With this came the responsibility of actually selling his produce, setting up an agreement with nearby families who lacked the things he had. A deal, they get food on their table and he gets dimes, happy knowing they wouldn't starve throughout the seasons.

The annual county fair was another thing he had grown accustom to - traveling with his ponies in their designated trailers, boxes of decorations and produce in the back of his pickup. The heat of the summer was mere blinding, sweat seeping through the fabric of his shirt as he hulled a crate up onto the sturdy stand. His youngest brother, Damian, had run off to set up the pony ride in a fenced area past the baking competition.

"We ain't open up yet, honey," Jason hummed out, glancing at the person who wandered up to his stall - though it was fairly obvious throughout the mess - "But we'll be done soon, if you'd like t'wait." He had that pretty pearly smile, his hat shading his features a bit from the beating down sun - you were kind of pretty.