A/N: well, i finally completed chapter 8 after a pretty long break. sometimes, i just can't get myself to sit down and come up with something, so unfortunately these long pauses between chapters are inevitable. anyway, i hope everyone is like this so far. i'm trying to mess with beloved Terry as much as possible before i set things right again. I wonder if anyone has figured out the plot yet; i'm not trying to keep it a secret, but i'm not exactly giving it away either. now, enough blabber, ENJOY!
"I'll be there in a few minutes," Terry reassures Max over the phone. He forgot that her farewell party started a half hour ago, and had rushed to get ready before she called.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," he stresses rolling his eyes as he scrambles to find his keys. "I'm three exits away," he lies as he lifts the couch cushions.
"You're still on the highway?!"
"Just relax, have a drink. I promise I will be there."
"You better be, McGinnis. Everyone's already here, so hurry up."
"See you in a bit," he says, dialing off and cursing inwardly when he doesn't find the keys. "Where the hell did I put them?"
With a covered casserole dish cradled under one arm, Jazz presses the elevator call button and walks into one that takes her up to Terry's floor. On the ride up, she nervously shifts her weight as she contemplates whether or not she should be doing this. Before she can reach a decision, the elevator doors slide open and she steps out onto the floor. However, instead of moving towards his apartment, she looks back at the closing doors unsure if this is a good idea.
She's been worried about him ever since his collapse this morning, and he didn't seem himself after he left. The reason she's standing in this dimly lit hallway is to find out why his demeanor changed, why he seems different now. However, she can't help but hesitate simply because she still feels she's no longer entitled to be that close to him anymore. Batgirl was her only reason for knowing him and having to see him daily, and since that's no more, there's no other reason to keep up with that friendship.
However, she has already made it this far; better get this over with than regret it later. Taking in a deep breath, she walks towards the door and holds up a fist to knock but, once again, her anxiety stops her.
'This is stupid,' she thinks to herself as she shakes her head. When she turns to leave, the door suddenly swings open, startling her. She spins to face Terry, who is just as surprised to see her standing in front of him.
"Uh, hi," she stutters, scratching the back of her neck. With his brows raised, he switches his gaze between Jazz's face and the dish in her hand. "Yeah – uh – I got, well made you something," she says holding out the dish. He takes it and lifts the foil to find a perfectly cooked tuna casserole inside. The corner of his mouth turns up in a half smile before he looks back at Jazz, who has her hands held behind her back and weight shifting from one leg to another. "I noticed you," she pauses to clear her throat, "you lost some weight, so I – uh – made you-"
"Why are you so nervous?" Terry cuts in. Before she can answer, he walks back into his apartment to put the food in his fridge. Rather than look silly by waiting in the hallway, she follows him in and closes the door behind her.
"I'm not nervous," she replies standing in the kitchen. Terry scowls at her not buying the lie. "Anyway, you looked like you were in a hurry, so I'll just go."
"Why'd you come?" Terry asks leaning on the counter to make it clear that he's not intending to leave until she talks.
"The casserole," she replies pointing to the fridge.
"Yeah, and?" He crosses his arms over his chest waiting for her reply.
"And to check up on you," she sighs, giving in.
"I told you I was fine."
"You lie just as bad as I do," Jazz replies, this time with more confidence.
Terry stands silent for a moment as he stares back at Jazz before he straightens up. "You were right, I was in a hurry."
Getting the curt message, Jazz turns towards the door, hiding her disappointment. "I should go. Sorry I barged in like this."
"Do you work tomorrow?" Terry unexpectedly asks as he straightens up and follows Jazz to the door.
"Yeah, why?" After stepping out into the hallway, she watches him lock his door and follow him to the elevator.
"I still owe you dinner, remember?"
"You never owed it in the first place," Jazz says as they ride the elevator down.
"A gentleman always keeps his promise," Terry replies with a playful grin, watching Jazz fail to repress a smile. "I'll pick you up at seven?" He asks letting her lead the way out the elevator and to the front door.
Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she turns to face him. "Why do you still want to do dinner?"
He wants to confess to missing the time he used to spend with her, to reconnect, that whether or not she's Batgirl has nothing to do with why he wants to keep in touch with her, but it seems all he can manage is shove his hands in his pockets and shrug.
The two hold their gaze for a moment before Jazz slowly nods, accepting his reply. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she says giving him a small smile before turning to head towards a subway station.
Running a hand through his hair, Terry lets out a relieved sigh. Her visit was unexpected but in a good way. Feeling a bit elated, he turns on his heel and walks towards his parked car.
Being reduced to using an outdated computer is so insulting to Ira's genius intellect. Actually, come to think of it, everything in this world is insulting; having to deal with self-centered teenagers to barely make a living, the police questioning him like he's some kind of brain damaged patient, and being brought down by Batman with just the use of brute force; like a Neanderthal. How primitive. Mom always said the pen is mightier than the sword, and mom is always right. How else can you turn a person against himself?
The thought brings an eerie smile to Ira's face as he takes his seat in front of the ten inch thick computer monitor. That nano-tech he invented is working like a charm, sending him feedback on the hormone levels in Batman's body. The smile on the psychologist's face however, disappears when he reads the latest graphs. Cortisol levels have dropped in the last fifteen minutes, a phenomenon that's happened twice in the last twelve hours. He knows without that stress hormone maintaining a certain level, his experiment won't work. Since sleep deprivation doesn't seem to affect Batman anymore, Ira tries a different tactic.
"Time to take it a bit further." Typing in a few figures, Ira sends the signal to the nano-tech coursing through Terry's veins before sitting back and smiling as he waits for the results. "Enjoy."
Terry finally makes it onto the freeway starting the short trip to Max's apartment. With the road almost empty, he lets his mind wander back to the unexpected meeting with Jazz. A smile creeps on his face when he realizes that she made him, of all things, a tuna casserole. It's the first dish she ever cooked for him and the first time he realized she had a talent for transforming the most bland and tasteless food into an edible and even enjoyable meal. Giving her piano lessons was not just a way to thank her, but return the favor. They shared good times on that piano bench; if only they could keep at it.
As he drives down the highway, a sudden feeling of uneasiness takes over. Finding it strange, he straightens up in his seat and takes a quick look around him, wondering if it was a subtle trigger from the environment that set him off. His eyes dart between the side mirrors and the road before he takes a final look into the rearview mirror. When nothing strange turns up behind him, he shrugs it off; but when he locks his eyes back onto the road, his headlights shine on a panicked woman in a light blue dress standing in the middle of his lane.
Terry slams on his brakes and swerves away from her, but he loses control of the car sending it crashing into the concrete barrier before coming to a skidding halt. Disoriented, he pushes away the front and side airbags before remembering the look on that strange woman's face. Grunting with pain, he quickly takes off his seat belt and climbs out of the broken window to look for her.
"Hello?!" He calls out turning in place for a sign of the woman, but the street lights show no hints of anyone who could have been there. He walks over to the edge of the highway wondering maybe while he crashed she might have jumped off the side, but that isn't the case either. Putting a hand to his throbbing head, he tries to remember what she might have looked like. Black hair, pale skin… slanted eyes.
'No, no way it could have been her,' he tries convincing himself. 'She left; she can't be here.' He turns his gaze to his now mangled car sitting on the side of the road. Lowering his hand, he realizes that his head is bleeding. Before he could walk back to his car, an SUV speeds by startling him. He watches the car quickly slow down and a head pop out from the window.
"Hey! Are you okay?!" The concerned voice asks, but when Terry doesn't answer, the driver steps out of the car and approaches him. "Do you need any help?" He tries again when he notices Terry looking lost and distant. "Jesus, you're bleeding! I'll call you an ambulance, just don't-"
"No," Terry suddenly answers shaking away the shock. "No, I'm fine. It's just a graze."
"Man, you're lucky to be alive," the stranger says looking at Terry's car. Both sides of it are crushed and the hood has pushed in reducing it to half its length. "Do you want me to call anyone for you?"
"No, I'll be fine. Thanks for the concern," Terry absently replies as he walks over to the car.
"Well, as long as you're sure," he replies hesitating before walking back to his car and driving away.
"Never said I was sure," Terry mumbles as he reaches into the window looking for his phone. Finding it wedged between the gear shift and his seat, he manages to pull it out and call his mentor. "Bruce," he starts sounding more distraught than he wanted. "Something's seriously wrong with me."
- to be continued - reviews welcome -