It's hard to explain what exactly he feels. It's not like seeing a ghost, exactly. More like an old photograph brought to life and laid over someone else. The limp isn't there, nor the gray hair, but the dark, craggy look says Bruce all over. Bruce in his prime who wouldn't even favor Terry with a second punch, much less give him a suit.

"Bruce..." He doesn't so much say it as the word escapes from him. Fear and elation gut through him and nothing less than his own Bat instincts force him to his feet.

"I'm...I'm Terry."