Terry didn’t understand in the way that he understood, that the man he’d killed wasn’t Bruce Wayne in the way that he was Bruce Wayne. That man hadn’t been Batman the way the Batman was supposed to be and killing him had given back whatever Gotham he had inhabited its chance of healing itself. He had faith that someone would come in and put the pieces back together. They wouldn’t be able to do that if he’d returned. Their Batman wouldn’t have stood aside and let a savior into his city without putting up a fight.
That place was better off without him. He’d seen and he’d experienced what thousands of people went through every day. Bruce wanted there to be another way, but sometimes you didn’t get what you wanted, and sometimes, what he disbelieved in was the best method. He would have done it himself if Terry hadn’t gotten to him first. He would have done it so that Terry didn’t have to. No such luck.
“You didn’t kill me. You killed a monster. There’s a difference. There was no other way.” Bruce had started to firmly believe that and changing his mind wasn’t going to happen. It was the truth and he didn’t want to ignore the truth. Not this time.