Rain pattering against the window wakes Henry up the next day. Slowly sitting up in his couch, he rubs the sleep from his eyes as he remembers the night before. He discovers Jazz gone, somehow having wiggled out of his embrace without waking him, and lets out a short sigh of disappointment. His clock reads 7:08 AM, but it's thankfully his day off, so he's in no hurry to get ready for the day.
He rubs his sore neck as he rises and takes his time dressing in a pair of shorts and sweater; he comes back out to start his daily routine: turn on the news, review a few notes and cases, have some coffee and go for a run. However, the news that morning forces his routine to come to a screeching halt when the headline reads "Dangerous Sidekick?" and the image of Max Hemming on crutches and wearing a neck brace fills the screen.
As the anchorwoman explains the story, he hears his front door slowly open before Jazz, who still thinks him to be asleep, tries to make a quiet entrance. Her hands are full holding two cups of coffee and a brown paper bag, but she manages to get through the doorway before looking up and noticing Henry's wide eyes staring at her.
She gives him an innocent smile and holds up the paper bag. "Bagel?"
"Who's your special friend?" He asks as his eyes turn angry.
"What are you talking about?"
She makes her way into the kitchen to drop off the breakfast. She joins him in the living room and realizes the reason he asked. Max is recounting the story with over exaggerations while conveniently eliminating the part about the confession he made that night. She can almost hear her reputation as hero being crushed by the media like an empty can under a twelve-year-old's foot. She can't help but scowl at the TV before turning her attention to Henry.
"Who are you working with?"
"Not who you're thinking of," she quickly defends herself.
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"Trust me?" She winces, hoping the reason will stand.
"Jazz!" He scolds standing up, "I gave you that information trusting you wouldn't hurt anyone!"
"Me?"
"I'm not an idiot." He holds his glare while Jazz's face turns blank.
"I have no clue what you mean."
"The late call, the torn stitches, this happening last night, and your 'moving furniture' alibi. I know it was you." Jazz looks away as she quietly curses the hole she dug herself into. "You promised you weren't going to do anything stupid," he continues more disappointed than angry.
"Look, you can assume whatever you want, but I have a class in an hour."
Before she could walk away, Henry grabs a hold of her arm. "Quit while you're still alive."
Her neutral face hardens into a more threatening one. Shaking away his grip, she storms out of his apartment without saying another word.
Angry that her day has been ruined before noon, Jazz makes it to her apartment with no intentions of leaving any time soon. She finds Zee snoozing on her couch where she had left him the night before; the sight of him alone calms her down. Gingerly picking him up, she gives him a warm smile when he looks up at her and lets out a quiet but hungry mew.
"Let's get you some food, big guy," she coos as she carries him to the kitchen.
Per vet instructions, she prepares the cat food mixed with water and sets the plate in front of him. Hungrily wolfing it down, Zee never notices the pill Jazz slipped into the food, and within minutes the plate is licked clean. Done with it, he sits and looks up at Jazz with green eyes hoping she will fill his dish again. She gives him one more spoonful of food before moving to the living room.
She flops down on her couch and rests an arm over her face, the crook of her elbow covering her tired eyes. Before she could doze off though, her kitten jumps up to join her, inadvertently landing on her tender stomach and making her jump as she pushes him off. With nothing better to do with her day and still upset over what happened at Henry's place, she turns on the TV, hoping for some sort of distraction; but she knows Max's face is the only thing filling new channels right now, irritating her even more. He is overplaying the role of victim, and by complaining of a non-existent neck injury, he's doing a good job at getting the media's attention. There's no way the city will welcome Batgirl's return after this. Tired of listening to him whine, Jazz switches the channel to morning cartoons to get her mind off everything.
She smiles when an ancient show plays on the air. "They don't make shows like this anymore," she contemplates as she watches Bugs trick Elmer yet again.
Terry had tracked Jazz's movements the night before and found the residence she stayed in that night wasn't hers. The only other person it could be is Tank's, so before retiring for the night, he took down the name the apartment was leased to and went home. So it's no surprise after waking up that morning, he remembers the name Henry Whitman Jr., and more importantly, that he needs to run a search on him. Getting up, he throws a shirt over his chest, and makes his way to his computer. Logging into the Batcomputer, he runs the name but gets a long list of possible profiles. He's tried to find a picture of him to narrow it down, but ends up with the same results. He tries hacking into Gotham Memorial's server to get the list of staff members, but he doesn't find any correlating pictures.
With the trouble he's having trying to figure out who the real Henry is, Terry figures one reason for the difficulty might be because Tank must have picked up the same trick Jazz used to make himself invisible in plain view; after all, he needed to get into med school and find a decent job. Logging out, Terry decides having a concrete physical description might help narrow down the search, but at the moment, the search for coffee trumps anything else.
Just when Bruce turns off the news, the predicted phone call from Barbara comes in. The last thing he wants right now though, is to deal with her. The phone continues to ring until the answering machine intercepts it. He doesn't stay to listen to the rant about how careless he was to allow Jazz to serve on his team. Calmly moving to the kitchen he takes out a can of dog food for Ace and some tea for himself, saving his fury for when he sees Terry's difficult partner.
Figuring Henry would be at the hospital, Terry decides to visit and ask after him. The overworked nurse, however, tells him that it was the lucky intern's day off.
"When does he come in again?" Terry asks.
"Are you his patient?" The nurse instead asks with a suspicious look.
"Uh, no, not exactly. He's an old friend… from college… I heard he was working here and I need his advice about something."
"Ever heard of phones?" She sarcastically replies, testing Terry's patience.
Realizing it'll take more work than he thought to get information out of this olive-complexioned nurse, Terry decides to turn on the charm. He leans against the desk and gives her a bashful grin as he looks away.
"Okay, look, here's the thing," he sighs, bringing soft blue eyes to rest on her chocolate ones. His voice lowers to give the impression that what he's about to confess can change the world. "I'm only telling you this cause I have a feeling you have a soft spot for romance," he starts, relieved to discover the nurse's unwavering eyes turn curious. "I have this friend who was seen by Henry the other day down at the clinic, and she was too shy to ask him out."
"Oh yeah?" She skeptically asks with a raised brow. "So why are you here?"
"I lost a bet," he shyly confesses the lie, but the humble demeanor penetrates the nurse's armor, making her chuckle. "Anyway, she wanted me to talk to him, maybe get his number so I'm hoping you could help."
"It's not our policy," she replies, but a twinge of hesitation laces her tone, giving Terry the signal to probe further.
So he whips out his phone and scrolls through the photo library, pulling up a picture of Max before holding it out for the nurse to see.
"That's her," he says, watching the nurse smile at the photo of his best friend relishing a cupcake like it was made of ambrosia. "She's been having a rough time finding someone who could make her happy, you know? See a few months ago she found out her boyfriend was cheating on her and she hasn't been the same since. But when she met Henry the other day, well, she said she felt like herself again for the first time in a while," he lies, making up the sobbiest story he could, knowing women sympathize easily with a victim.
Staying true to that female tendency, the nurses' eyes scan her surroundings to make sure no one is watching before she leans close to whisper, "He's on the fifth floor, intern's lounge."
"I thought it was his day off."
She scoffs as she leans back. "No such thing in an intern's first year. If they don't have a shift scheduled, they have tests to study for, fruits to practice suturing on, or attendings to suck up to; but between us, I think that friend of yours is pretty enough to pull Whitman out of this hospital in a heartbeat. So…" She smiles, nodding to the locked door that leads to the hospital's restricted area.
With a press of the button though, it buzzes before opening, making Terry grin with achievement.
"You're amazing," he winks at the nurse before making his way through the doors.
But now that he's past the first obstacle, he'll need to figure out an equally convincing lie when he confronts Henry. It won't be easy considering he's been let through to a more restricted area of the building where patients don't usually just walk around in. So "bumping" into him won't be a believable excuse. As he rides up the elevator, he figures he could just pretend to be looking for the bathroom… cause he's new to the job… what job though? The corner of his mouth turns down in through before he figures he could pass for a lab tech. First day on the job. That could work, he convinces himself before the elevator doors slide open.
Managing to find his way through the endless corridors, Terry finally makes it to the intern lounge the nurse had told him about. He's glad to find the door is wide open, but when he approaches the room, he discovers three men occupying it, throwing out his earlier lab tech story out the window. How's he supposed to know which one's Henry?
He stops just short of the doorway, staring in as he studies each occupant. His eyes first turn to a tall, lanky man stretched out on the couch and feet perched on the coffee table. The one beside him is chubbier, his lips stretched into a grin as he relays something to the last person seated in a sofa chair across from the couch. His interlaced fingers rest on the top of his blond head, the lips bordered by an equally golden goatee are stretched in another grin as he listens to the chubbier one's story and ignores the book on his lap opened to a complex diagram of a kidney.
As Terry tries to guess which one might be Henry, all three erupt with laughter brought on by the discussion he can't hear. Engulfed with the task of identifying the right person, Terry never realizes he's in full view by the doorway before the occupants suddenly take notice of him as their laughter dies down.
"Hey," the chubby one greets, making the other two turn to the door and Terry to snap out of his thoughts. "Need something?"
"Uh, no," he quickly stammers. "Sorry, just looking for the bathroom."
"Down the hall," he replies before turning to the files he's supposed to be working on spread out on the coffee table.
"Right, thanks," he says, moving down the hall as he tries thinking of another way to get the info he needs.
However, before he reaches the end of the hallway, a voice behind him grabs his attention. "Hey," it calls out making him stop and turn to find the blond intern standing outside the lounge. His blue eyes that were full of humor seconds ago have suddenly hardened, piquing Terry's curiosity. "Who are you?" He asks, stepping towards him.
"New lab guy, first day on the job, you know?"
Henry frowns at him and stops when he's a foot away from him. "Why are you lying?" He suddenly asks, catching Terry off guard.
"What?"
"I remember seeing you in the waiting room after Jazz's surgery couple weeks ago. You lied about being her fiancé," he quietly explains.
That's one way to answer Terry's inquiry. The lost and harmless look he adopted to fool those around him is replaced by his confident and familiar gaze as he stares at the man standing an inch taller than him. Noting the change in Terry's expression, Henry realizes for the first time this twenty-two year old isn't just another one of Jazz's friends.
There's something different about him, prompting him to repeat his earlier question. "Who are you?"
"Thought you already knew that," Terry replies, stuffing hands into his pockets.
"I don't have time for this bullshit," Henry shoots back. "Just tell me if you're the reason Jazz got hurt."
"I can't see how that's possible given Thorn is who she got mixed up with."
"Yeah, except he's saying Batgirl was the one he had fun with," Henry replies, his eyes narrowing with suggestion.
"Woah, not the version I heard. Who told you that?" He asks, masking the anger he feels with surprise. Henry must know who Batgirl is.
What Henry doesn't know though, is just how well Terry is able to lie, his face matching the confusion in his voice making him think twice about Terry being Batman.
"Never mind, it was just a rumor; don't worry about it," Henry replies, but his skeptical eyes remain on the younger man. "Why are you here lying about being a lab tech then?"
This is the question Terry was hoping to avoid, and although he feels like a deer caught in the headlights, he doesn't let it show on his face. His mind races to find a believable excuse, but as though by a miracle of God, an unfamiliar voice interrupts the two.
"Whitman," it calls out making Henry turn around.
"Dr. Drummond?" Henry replies, realizing his attending is the one who interrupted.
"You busy?"
"No, ma'am. Why?"
"Feel like helping out on a hand reconstruction?" She offers, knowing first year interns usually kill for a rare privilege like this; only the best get to assist in complicated surgeries.
"You kidding me, ma'am?" Henry grins.
"OR 3, scrub up in five minutes," she nods before turning down the hallway.
When Henry spins back to face Terry though, he is unpleasantly surprised to find he disappeared. "Son of a," he quietly curses before hurrying to the lockers to change out of his street clothes and into a pair of scrubs.
The banging against her door pulls Jazz out of the nap her pain medication had put her in an hour ago. With a groan, she shuffles over and opens it without bothering to smooth her disheveled hair or rub red-rimmed eyes.
"What?" She demands when she discovers Terry on the other side, his fury clearly expressed in his glaring eyes.
"How the hell does Henry know?" He starts.
"Know about what?" She yawns, unfazed by his anger.
"Did you tell him?" He asks, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him.
"I didn't admit to anything. He figured it out, and for the record I didn't confirm or deny it. Now, I'm tired, so leave."
"Damn it Jazz!" He exclaims, ignoring her. "This is what happens when you're not careful."
"Relax, Henry can keep a secret," she shrugs with indifference, contrasting Terry's reaction. But before she could go back to bed, her sleepy head clears up. "Wait, how did you find out his name?"
"Medical record."
"Yeah, but how did you know it was Henry and not another doctor?" Her eyes narrow accusingly before turning furious. "Damn it, Terry! Stay out of my business!"
"The hell I will! You're lucky I'm not telling Bruce about this! Did you tell him about me?"
"I didn't even admit anything about myself, you think I'm going to tell him about you? Now, leave!" She tries shoving him, but she underestimates his strength when he barely even flinches. Instead, he grabs her wrist and pulls her forward.
"Don't ever make another mistake like that again," he hisses.
"Like you never made it with Max."
"Max found out because she was poking her nose in business that didn't concern her. She figured it out regardless of what I did; it was unavoidable. You, on the other hand, didn't have to hang Hemming over the edge and break his leg." She tries to pull her wrist out of his grip but he's too strong.
"What? You want me to apologize for screwing up again? I know I did and apologizing won't do shit right now. But no one is doing anything to help this case. So I broke a few rules, tarnished a legend, but I got a lead! When was the last time you made headway?"
They glare at one another for a few seconds before Terry lets out a frustrated sigh. "You need to stop treating me like an enemy."
"I would if I knew you were on my side. Henry was until he found out what I do." Hearing that, he realizes Henry isn't going to be calling Jazz anytime soon.
"Jazz," Terry starts, finally letting go of her, "it would be easier if you did things without breaking bones; you can't be reckless then expect people to still be on your side."
Reason finally penetrates Jazz's thick skull, bringing with it feelings of remorse. She was acting on emotions when she let Hemming drop, and in retrospect, Terry's right; it wasn't necessary.
"Fine," Jazz agrees, calming down. "I won't screw up again. So Bruce isn't going to know about this?"
"From you he will sooner or later; my advice, sooner is much better than later."
"I'll tell him tonight," she promises.
Reassured by her sincerity, Terry nods with satisfaction before opening the door. "By the way, thumbs could also be useful or calling me," he adds, reminding her that she can still confide in him despite their difficulties.