Christineoftheopera-Batman? Never. Jonathan? Broke his neck in the fall, poor thing. Rather like a bird slamming into your car on the freeway...

The Puppeteer Patient 120402-I was going to have her turn up in a coma, but...he'd have known about that. And comas are overused.

Just-Me-and-My-Brain-He survived the explosion, figured (hoped) Batman had, and tried to coax him out. Not that it matters now, seeing as he didn't survive the fall.

"Kitty, please…"

"Jonathan."

"God…"

"Jonathan."

"God, no-! Kitty!"

"Jonathan!"

He starts awake, coughing thickly and struggling to breathe. Where is he? He was falling, he should be dead…

He moves his hand to wipe away the blood and comes up clean. What…?

"Jonathan?" He doesn't answer her, doesn't even try to lift his head. "You awake, love?" Awake and in Hell. "C'mon, sit up."

Warm arms wrap around his ribs and tug him upright. She can touch him. He must be dead. Dead is acceptable.

He blinks and tries to take a deep breath. He's successful. Not dead, then. Dead people don't breathe. So why can she touch him? Maybe this is a new level of hallucination. He'll take it.

"God, you're really warm…" He should be. She's dead and he isn't. "Think you're running a fever…let me look at you."

He doesn't move and she grips his chin, guides his face over and up. She's not wearing white now. Now it's summer pyjamas-shorts and a tank top.

She feels his neck and presses her lips against his forehead.

"I knew it. How many times do I have to tell you to go to bed at a decent hour?" She tugs at his hands and he does not budge. "Hey. You awake?"

She's warm, too and if he concentrates he can feel her pulse under his fingers.

"Kitty?"

"Yeah." She looks worried. Why should she be worried about him? He let her die. "You okay?"

He looks at her hands, wrapped loosely around his wrists. Warm.

"You're here."

"Where else would I be?"

"No, you're…you're here." He tugs a hand free and reaches up to brush her face. She doesn't vanish. She raises an eyebrow, but that's all. "You're not…"

"Not what?" She tries again to pull him up. "You're burning up, love, you need to be in bed."

"Not dead." he whispers. "You're not dead."

"Jonathan, maybe you should go to the hospital."

He flings his arms around her and pulls her close. Not dead, she's not dead.

"Kitty."

"Yeah. What happened, you have a nightmare?"

He nods and feels her ruffle his hair.

"I think so."

"It wasn't toxin, was it?" He shakes his head. It doesn't feel like that. Hallucinations he remembers. Even now, the particulars are fading. "You're sure? Because you were shouting for me-scared me half to death, I thought there'd been an accident."

"No, it wasn't."

"Feel like talking?" NO. What little he does remember is not something he cares to discuss. He shakes his head again and she squeezes his shoulder. "Okay. Come on, I want you in bed. You sound terrible."

"Don't go."

"Some dream, huh?" She makes him lift his head and kisses him. "Up you get. Want tea? Might help the coughing."

"No."

"Want to come with me while I make you tea?"

He has no choice, apparently. And he really doesn't mind.

"Okay."

THE END

AN: There. Status quo restored. (Unless they're both dead now...) Think this'll stick with him for a while, though. Remember when I said that 'Jonathan imagines the Batman this way'? Not 'sees'. 'Imagines'. Wording is important, kiddies. This is why everything was short and a little disjointed near the end, by the way-dreams are whacked.