A/N: Here's a treat for everyone :) a lot of people seem to forget about Tamara, so i'm just bringing her back for little bit. Enjoy!

Parking the Batcycle in its designated spot, Batgirl slowly slides off as she painfully clutches her ribs. Terry definitely didn't hold back when he was throwing punches and kicks; it makes her wonder what could have pushed him to his limits like that. She pulls off her mask and gloves as she starts towards an alcove before a faint whirring sound grabs her attention. Curious, she follows the sound to the medic station where she finds Terry laying on his side with his back facing her.

She approaches him quietly wanting to find out why he's still on the gurney. When she's close enough, she can see Terry's arm is propped up on a pillow with a catheter sticking out of it. Her gaze follows the tube hooked to the needle and discovers the source of the whirring noise is the dialysis machine. She figures it must be a solution to the problem that created this whole mess. However, instead of leaving, curiosity pulls her around the gurney to face Terry.

Realizing he's sound asleep, she gets closer and tilts her head to the side as she watches his chest rhythmically rise and fall before her eyes move to his seemingly serene face. He looks comfortable, maybe even relieved to get much deserved rest. The corner of her mouth threatens a smile before her eyes guide her down his shoulder to the arm lying on top of the pillow. The scar she saw earlier is vivid and a little raised, disrupting the otherwise smooth skin surrounding it. It doesn't look like it was deep enough for stitches, but it must have bled a lot.

For some reason, she finds herself mesmerized by it. The faded red of the three-inch long scar just below the crease of his elbow lures her closer, tempting her to study it further. She wonders how he might have received it. Maybe when he was blocking a weapon, or jumping through a window. He might have fallen on or gotten snagged by something. However the damage was inflicted, the point is there's always a story behind every scar.

She's suddenly overcome by an urge to touch it, feel the raised bump, the imperfection marring an otherwise toned and strong arm. Switching her gaze between his arm and closed eyes, she hesitantly raises a hand and rests two fingers on the healing wound. When nothing stirs, she crouches to its level and locks her gaze on the arm.

It feels surprisingly smooth, unlike its jutting appearance. She can barely feel the bump even though she can definitely see it. If she was there when he first got cut, she would have been the one to clean and dress it. No; if she was there, he never would have gotten it to begin with. He wouldn't have to wear his mistake for the world to see. They say you can't learn from your mistakes if you don't make any, but wearing it as a badge of shame doesn't teach anything. It's a quiet humiliation, just like running from your fears.

Her fingers caress the length of the scar as she realizes that she just made the biggest mistake. Leaving, avoiding her fears, didn't help anyone, not even herself. The scar is still there, deep in her soul, in the back of her mind, constantly reminding her that she's a coward. Another saying comes into light: you can't get over your fears if you don't face them. Although tonight was her first test, she doesn't feel she passed. She was careful with every move she made, staying within her comfort zone, one that wasn't enough to win her match. She got flashed before she had a chance to push herself further. A sigh of disappointment escapes her as she returns her eyes to Terry's face.

That's when she notices his crystal blue eyes are wide open and staring straight into her gray ones. Gasping, she quickly snatches her hand away from his arm and shoots up; but before she could rush away, Terry quickly grabs a hold of her wrist keeping her firmly in place. As he sits up, he keeps his eyes locked onto her surprised ones before slowly reaching a hand out towards her face.

It hesitates in the air for a moment before his thumb and finger gently clamp on to her chin. Not knowing his intention, Jazz stands motionless with wide eyes intently watching Terry's still face. His eyes switch to her lips as his thumb creeps up to the corner of her mouth settling on the fresh cut he caused earlier that night. Still tender, Jazz flinches from the gentle touch, but Terry doesn't let go. Instead, he locks his eyes back on hers, and moves his hand up to her cheek where a dark bruise is just starting to form under her eye.

He pushes her sweat soaked bangs away to get a better look at it. Using two fingers, he lightly presses her cheekbone making her flinch again. Seeing the injuries he's inflicted on her face alone upsets him. He thought he was fighting his worst enemy, so he didn't hold back. Rather than stop and assess his circumstances, he decided to fight and give it his all. The consequence of that is hurting Jazz. He lets out a disappointed sigh as he retracts his hand while looking away giving Jazz the opportunity to quietly leave. Although he lies back down, self-tormenting thoughts stop him from catching any more sleep for the rest of his treatment.

Terry parks his bike across the street from the high school and waits for Tamara to show. It doesn't take long for the final bell to ring and teenagers to bustle out excited to start their summer vacation. He keeps a close eye on the crowd flowing out the doors until he recognizes a dark haired girl walk out. Straightening up, he waves at her when she looks his way and watches a grin stretch on her face.

He crosses the street and is surprised to be greeted with a hug. "You're okay!" Tamara says as she lets go of him.

Terry smiles back at her. "You're getting tall," he says patting the top of her head.

"Hey come on, I'm not nine anymore," Tamara complains moving her head away.

"Right, I forgot you have an image to keep up with," Terry replies before receiving a playful scowl. "Anyway, I'm here to thank you for your help yesterday."

"No you're not," Tamara replies eying him suspiciously.

He smiles at her before confessing his intention. "How'd you know I was in trouble?"

"When I make a psychic connection with someone, there's always a remnant left behind even after the connection is broken. So when you're in trouble, like mind kind of trouble, it goes off like an alarm."

Although she stops talking, Terry has a feeling she's not done. "What is it?"

"Well," she hesitantly starts. "Why did you see Blight of all people?" She asks nervously shifting her weight.

For a quiet moment, Terry just stares at the curious teenager standing in front of him before he runs a hand through his hair. "He's the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

"And Batgirl?" Tamara asks wondering if Spellbinder's visions produced complete opposites of the real image. Terry's reply though is a sheepish smile and a shrug making Tamara grin; finding out someone has a crush can be very rewarding for a fifteen year old. "Are you two like dating?" She asks with wide, expectant eyes.

"Tamara," Terry scolds scowling at her.

"What? It's a legit question," she shamelessly replies.

Terry shakes his head at her. "You're too much like a normal teenager sometimes," he sighs.

Although she scowls at him, she can't help but proudly smirk a moment later before a honking horn gets their attentions. "That's my mom," Tamara says waving at the minivan then looking back up at Terry. "Take care of yourself?"

"Always. I'll see you around." He watches her rush off towards the van before walking back to his bike.

"Who was that?" Tamara's mother asks when her daughter gets in the car.

"Someone asking for directions," she replies intently watching Terry put his helmet on.

"And?" She asks as she eases into traffic.

"I didn't know where he was going," Tamara replies as Terry drives off. "But I hope he finds his way."

- to be continued - reviews welcome -