Jason flinched, back pressed flush against the brick as the bullets pelted the wall, his body only just out of reach as the clay shattered and blew off in chunks around him. The cloud of dust resulting from the mass destruction clawed at his throat and he resisted the urge to gag as his heart hammered within his chest.

His helmet was already history, lost early in the fight when a not so stray shot clipped his temple, sending crimson metallic shards digging into his flesh. The sweat rolling down his face burned, but he could do little more than messily wipe it off with a swift lift of his sleeve.

He couldn't even be sure of when- how it had all gone so wrong, and yet he was praising himself all the same that he had benched Sasha the night before when she had landed poorly and sprained her ankle. The mess he had landed himself in surely would have been the death of her. All things considered, she was still a rookie, although she trained with fervor and was eager to please. As is, it was looking like it could very well be the end of him, if he didn't think of some ingenious way out, and soon.

He braced himself as he broke away from the wall, tucking and rolling as he dove for new cover, a better angle, not that one truly existed when he was surrounded and vastly outnumbered.

It had been stupid really. Beyond it. Rushing off into the warehouse district alone, uninformed, in pursuit of an up and coming crime lord without the proper intel, without knowing the layout of the area. He was angry with himself more than anything, having become too accustomed to Sentinel- Tim planning out his nights, too reliant on it, but more so… he felt pathetic. He had been angry, beyond frustrated that the teen thought that he was suddenly in charge of him. That he needed him, when he had been fine on his own for years, and he had been perfectly capable of accomplishing what he set out to do.

And yet…

Had he not shut down all his coms, obliterated his phone, and ripped the transmitter out of his helmet in a fit of Sentinel induced rage all before deciding to storm out on this ill-advised escapade… had he just waited, accepted advice… well, then maybe he wouldn't be running for his life, praying he had enough ammo to cover himself just long enough to think of a way out that would not cost him his head.

He came out of the roll firing, blasting off shots in any which direction as he ducked and bobbed, forcing his lungs and legs to cooperate despite their fatigue.

And just as he thought he might just make it out alive, that there was a chance that he would break free of the maze of buildings…. It was all over.

He was tumbling and skidding across the pavement well before he felt the fire erupt within his thigh. He hit the ground hard, knocking the wind from his lungs upon impact, whilst the cement chewed at the fabric topcoat of his suit. He landed all sorts of wrong, slamming both his bad knee and his shoulder without catching himself, his guns skidding well out of reach. There would be no retrieving them.

He knew the shoulder was dislocated even before he forced himself to move. His pulse went skyrocketing as he finally managed to suck in that first sharp breath. He could hear the men approaching, hollering as they reloaded, while he struggled to get his feet beneath him. By the time he brought himself to his knees he had painted a gruesome scene upon the pavement, the blood bubbling from the entry wound with each muscle movement, whether voluntary or not, was everywhere.

For a moment he forced himself to swallow back the hysteria bubbling up into his throat, the flashbacks that threatened to break free with the pain and sight of his blood splayed across the bare concrete. He forced his body to rise, one arm limp at his side, his injured leg protesting and threatening to give out from the pain. Running was no longer an option…

He was fucked.

But he'd be damned if he was just going to lay there on the ground and go down without a fight, without some sort of dignity.

Which he was apparently not allowed to keep long…

At once he was surrounded, being forced back onto his knees before he could even manage to lash out, with a rifle pressed against his bleeding temple. There was a fist in his hair, twisting painfully to force him to meet their gaze, and without realizing it he held his breath as his heart thudded within his chest. He paid little attention to what left their mouths, refused to grace them with information, nor his pleading as they jabbed at him with the barrel. One man made the mistake of crouching down before him, and in what was likely to be his last stupid move, he spat in the brute's face and sneered, earning a fist to the face that sent his nose gushing.

The grip in his hair tightened further as his head was forced back, and as he heard the safety release he was determined to stare death in the face and laugh at it.

And all at once, just as he was going over stupid shit he regretted over the years in the back of his mind, the screaming began…

The men before him dropped to the ground, clutching their legs, their shoulders as they hit the pavement. Men were firing wildly at the shadows, at the rooftops, panic setting in as no source of the attack could be seen and yet the shots just kept coming. Jason was left kneeling shakily in the puddle of his own blood, fighting the urge to flatten himself as they scattered, seeking shelter from the shots coming from the darkness. He wasn't sure what to expect, what was happening, only that somehow someway a miracle had arrived bearing a silencer and one hell of a shot.

He was not expecting the figure that dropped from the shadows, cloaked in thick black kevlar padding and armor, to come rushing towards him. But mostly? The last person he was expecting to come to his aid, suited up, heavily armed, and aggressively dangerous…was Tim.

Sentinel barreled down the drive, clearly in luck as the majority of the gang had fled, and much of who had stuck around had little choice otherwise with their injuries, leaving very few to incapacitate by hand. All Jason could do was gape, watch in awe as Tim moved, striking out with more force and precision than he had ever witnessed come from the teen in his days as Robin. Tim had left his post, the safety of his command center apartment, and had entered the fray to save him. He had put on a suit far heavier than he was accustomed to just to ensure personal safety, fragmented immune system and all, and had come out of retirement guns blazing, risking his life just for him.

And it made him feel all the worse for his stupidity the same time it sent a thrilled rush through his system.

Because this? THIS. All for him.

The teen was damn good shot, had to be, for although several were bleeding and down for the count, every last one of them would live to see the light of another day. They sported mere flesh wounds, injuries that were only to eliminate them as threats, give him time. Maim not kill.

Still… he doubted he would ever forget the sight, even as lightheaded as he was.

Because, just… wow.

Jason was not at all prepared for Tim to slam into him, forcing him upright and running in one fell swoop, despite his leg protesting the weight. Tim had a tight grip on him around his waist as they bolted, and Jason was never as grateful he wore a domino under his helmet as he was now as the teen wrenched a handful of small steel balls from a pouch and whipped them behind him.

Flash grenades.

Very effective.

Lens filters changed automatically, and them being the only two left with their vision intact, escape was easy thereafter, leaving screams of blindness, and sobbing groans of pain in their wake.

They were unable to get very far with Tim's smaller frame holding most of his weight, but far enough that the gang would no longer be a threat, and they stopped for a breather down a blackened alley where they bled into the shadows. It was a cold enough night that their panting left puffs of steam in the air, and he could barely feel his oozing thigh anymore as Tim leaned him against the stone wall of the building. He looked frustrated, perturbed even as he frowned up at him, giving him a once over. He moved briskly as he felt his way up Jason's sides, fingers pressing firmly at his ribs as he skimmed over muscle and bone as he worked his way upward. He couldn't suppress the flinch that resulted when the teen's gloved hands hit the injured shoulder, and he bit his lip to suppress the snarl that itch to break free as result.

"Dislocated?" He was prompted.

"Clearly."

"Hn…"

And he had little warning before Tim had ahold him with both hands, wrenching and popping it back into place with a jolting snap that left him ranting like a sailor. Stars danced behind his lids as he hissed, the throbbing pain dulling as the seconds passed, and the feeling came back to his numb fingers. By the time his vision cleared and he began to focus once more, Tim was busy down below, crouched between his knees as his body tremored. He only hoped he wasn't going into shock.

The teen wrapped gauze in and around his wound, packing it tight, and wrapping a belt up above to slow the blood flow. Tim was pulling him forward to curl back around his shoulders the moment his stamina returned, hoisting up the majority of his weight off his lame side, and at once they were plowing back through the streets.

The trip back to Tim's flat was long and arduous by foot. With an arm slung around Tim's shoulder, and the teen's arm around his waist, they hobbled in the shadows through the chilly Gotham night, moving at a pace that worked for them both.

They arrived after nearly an hour had passed…

They landed awkwardly, taking the line from the multi-level parking complex across from Tim's flat to the balcony. As things stood, the fire escape stairs would have been murder, and far more effort that it would have been worth, but shudder the landing sent through his body had him clamping down on his lower lip.

He paid little attention as Tim shut his security system down and pried the balcony doors open to drag him inside. He was deposited in a kitchen chair almost immediately after they entered the residence, relief washing over him in waves as he was able to finally relax, to a degree.

The teen ran off briefly, returning just as quickly as he left, with one hell of a medical bag in hand.

A duffle really…

He wasted no time getting to work, much to Jason's displeasure.

"Bullet unfortunately did not go straight through. I'll have to remove it. Missed the bone and major arteries at least… lodged in muscle. Relatively quick recovery." Tim sighed, dropping the bag at his feet.

Jason watched as he crossed the room, rummaged through the cabinets, and returned with a bag of ice and bowl of hot water before setting them on the table and dipping gauze into the steaming liquid. He went to work on his face first, making sure his nose was not actually broken, and that every sliver of red helmet left his flesh. The antiseptic burned something fierce, and the tweezers sent jolts of pain through his nerves, but leaving just one piece embedded in his flesh would be a thousand times worse.

He should know…

His jacket was pulled off his shoulders gently, slowly, and the armored top followed leaving him in his undershirt as Tim rubbed gingerly at his agitated socket and placed the bagged ice atop it.

"Remind me to never actually get you angry…" Jason snorted, an avoidance of paying attention, earning a sharp look. "Guess you've never really taken me seriously. Our fights haven't been nothin' like that."

"Jason-"

"I mean… guns. Guns. Didn't think you actually had it in you. Don't think Daddy would approve." He sighed, cocking his head at the teen.

Tim furrowed his brow as he sucked in a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and crouched down before the older man as he pulled his heavy boots off his feet.

"…I haven't sought Bruce's approval in a long time now."

And that was the end of it.

Jason leaned back in his chair as Tim worked to remove the gauze padding and belt he had fixed upon his thigh earlier, eyes shut lightly while the adrenalin faded, and blood loss caught up with him. The teen offered no further conversation as he tossed the blood soaked square sheets and crumpled balls aside, taking care to not pull at his skin.

He cracked one eye open when Tim let out a exasperated sigh, and had little warning before his long fingers were briskly unlatching his belt and holsters. He opened his mouth to protest, eyes wide with shock, only to snap it shut almost as quickly as the teen began yanking them open, and down off his hips. He grunted instead, thrusting his hips upward to allow him to yank the waist down past his knees, gently over his wound, all to pool onto the tile floor at his feet.

"Bet you're pretty glad I wasn't running the streets commando right about now…" He snickered, a lewd grin stretching across his face as Tim froze briefly, turning a fascinating shade of crimson. "… or perhaps disappointed. Either or." He shrugged, leaning back flesh against the chair.

Jason gripped the edge of his seat as Tim mopped up the caked on dirt and semi dried blood off his leg with a rag, frown and blush seated firmly on his face.

He had always hated repair jobs, whether at Alfred's hands, or his own. He hissed as Tim jabbed him with a syringe, the numbing agent burning the feeling in his nerve ends away at the site, before he shot the saline down deep into the entry wound. More times than not he himself had forgone the lidocaine, opting to just get things over and done with pain and all, but rarely did he have access to it at the drop of a dime in the first place. Regardless, it wasn't long before the pain was an afterthought, and Tim was gently fishing out a hunk of bullet, and hunting for fragments. He watched silently as the teen worked, poking and prodding, flushing and pulling, until every trace of metal was found and removed.

Jason was in awe really. He wasn't sure how things had come to this… Tim leaving the nest, branching off on his own, running down thugs with guns ablaze just to save his stubborn ass… Wasn't sure what possessed him to track down the line teetering vigilantes- to track down him of all people and not only boss him around and aid him in his work, but treat him like… well, like he was human. Like he had never taken a knife or batarang to him, or beat him until he stopped moving, or treated him like he was less than dirt.

He didn't understand. Not at all.

But he wasn't complaining, not tonight, not when he would have definitely bit the big one with no grace or glory, all alone. No… this time he was definitely grateful, beyond it even.

Despite himself, he flinched as Tim pressed the curved needle into his flesh the first time, shivering as the teen went to work slowly with utmost precision. He ignored the process thereafter, instead watching Tim's expression change with each passing second, a fine distraction.

Third stitch in, Tim's bangs fell into his eyes, and all he was capable of doing to rectify the situation was blowing them away from his face every few moments as the strands obscured his vision.

Jason felt the corner of his mouth twitching.

He had to hand it to the guy, he never skipped a beat, and simply carried on. All the same though, he reached forward and ran his callused hand through the raven locks, pushing them back and out of his view. Tim paused, eyes never leaving the needle… but when Jason's hand never receded, he slowly returned to work, albeit slightly more on edge.

It didn't take long for Tim to start wrapping things up, the wound having needed more cleansing than stitching, but it hadn't stopped Jason's mind from wandering, trying to wrap his mind around the massive changes in the teen before him. Things just didn't add up, make sense… and he was pretty sure they never would.

Tim clipped the last of the thread and sighed, picking himself up off the ground. He stayed crouched briefly as he wrapped the sterile bandaging around the sutured wound in a thin loosely secured cover. Jason's hand slid from his hair as he rose the rest of the way up, bangs flopping back down into place as he kicked the bag of supplies aside and made his way back over to the sink.

Jason stared down at the leg, testing the muscle with a sigh, and let a satisfied smile grace his face.

The pain was an afterthought for now, at least, until morning.

He watched Tim undo the catches of his suit and drop the top half down around his waist with tired eyes, turning the water on steaming hot, and slip both arms under the hot spray drenched in liquid soap.

If asked later, Jason wasn't sure what possessed him to move, what made him rise from the chair onto staggering feet, just that the urge came over him, and he acted on it without much thinking.

Tim hadn't even realize it until it was too late…

The soap was nearly washed away when he reached the teen, shoulders slumped, and eyes blinking back exhaustion as he scrubbed. Tim jumped when he felt his presence, mere seconds before his hands appeared at his sides, rested upon the sink edge, boxing him in. He froze with his hands under the water, waiting for- well, anything. Anything except what actually came.

"Thanks…" Jason's breath was hot against his neck, voice whispering in his ear, and he could not help but shiver in response.

When he said nothing, yet Jason did not retreat, he stiffened, shutting the water off in one brisk movement as he spun to face the man.

"You were idiotic." He snapped, glaring up at him, back pressed against the steel basin.

"Yeah."

"You could have gotten yourself killed. Would have gotten yourself killed!" He hissed, grabbing a fistful of tank top at the man's chest.

"I know." He agreed.

"And do you have any idea what would have gone on as a result? Did you even stop to think about the risks of your actions? The consequences? What that would have meant to people?"

"Yeah… I was stupid…"

"Of course you… what?"

"Forgive me?"

It wasn't begging, nor was it demanding, but the situation itself just threw Tim for a loop. Jason had him pinned between himself and the sink with the most peculiar look on his face, voice low and unwavering, and increasingly much too close.

"Jason-"

If you asked Tim, he admittedly had never expected anything, anything from the man before him, not after years of distrust, jealously, and spite. Not after the dozens of fights, painful injuries, and words that had cut to bleed. He had barely expected tolerance from the man, no longer the boy he had once cared for so greatly before his death and rebirth, and yet…

And yet his back was tight against the ledge, and Jason was close, much too close, chest now pressed against his own and a knee between his thighs. Suddenly it was impossible to breath… his pulse quickened, heart thrumming as he swallowed the lump in his throat, argument lost upon his lips as the man leaned in and nudged him with his nose.

"…Tim?"

His resolve crumbled.

For once, consequences be damned, he let himself go… indulge as he closed the distance himself with a forceful crush of lips.

It was a downward spiral from there.

The two became all hands, squeezing, clawing, grasping for purchase. He ran his hands through the man's raven hair, clinging to the strands tightly as the other invaded his mouth, sliding their tongues together in a heated, breathless kiss.

He could have faded into oblivion without a second thought in that moment.

Tim's thighs locked firmly around Jason's hips as the man suddenly moved them, and they crashed into the adjacent wall, hitting with such a force that he gasped upon impact and a soft grunt left the other's mouth.

He couldn't say how or when they ended up in the bedroom, sprawled awkwardly across his bed in a tangle of limbs, rocking their hips, teeth clinking together as they frantically demanded more contact through one means or another.

For now Tim was content to forget everything but this- Jason atop him, panting heavily as he rutted against him... Jason, with his hands skirting over his heated flesh, tugging the remainder of his suit from his form with hasty precision.

He gasped when a hand slid up the front of his top, blunt nails raking against his pecs, a rough thumb grazing a nipple. He arched into the touch, fingers digging into the man's hips as his own ground up against him.

Jason let out a soft laugh, muffling it against his neck as he traced the faded white line of scar with his tongue, letting him shudder beneath him before sucking at it greedily.

They shouldn't be doing this, he knew that… would regret it later, once the other man did, something of which he was sure of. But for now he could not bring himself to care, not as he keened, not as Jason groaned and slid his hand up his thigh to knead at a cheek.

He panted against the man's neck, eyes shut tight as he clung to his shoulders. He relished in the other's touch, moving with him, keeping up with the pace of his hips. It had been so long since he had trusted another to get remotely this close. Steph had been so very long ago, and they had never quite gotten past some heavy petting before she had 'died'. Jason's touch was all the more foreign, and not at all unwelcome despite past circumstances, and future anxiety that was sure to come. He simply allowed himself to let go, lose it, find small comfort in the body he curled around as waves of pleasure crashed over him.

Their bodies were riddled with scars, some fresh, most from times long since passed and yet neither paid any attention, neither cared, nor questioned… and with that came no stress. He paid no mind to the stretch of dark raised flesh that had been the wound at his side, his normally invisible handicap, not even when Jason's fingers danced across it.

Their bodies slid together with ease, pillows and blankets scattered in all directions as they pressed and caressed, Tim fingers raking over Jason's spine as the man wrapped a hand around Tim's cock with a firm tug. He mewled against Jason's lips, still pulled into a breathy smirk even now as he rocked his hips, and curled his fingers.

And when Jason's fingers later pressed into him, Tim was no longer able to process any thought, any reason, any worry…

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He hadn't expected to wake up to the man still there.

He had expected to open his eyes and have them settle on an otherwise empty bed then go on with life as though nothing had ever happened. But to his shock, Jason was still at his left, fast asleep with his injured leg wrapped around his thigh. He wasn't sure what to make of it… perhaps too much excitement for one night, blood loss, and sheer exhaustion playing a hand in it.

Regardless, he did not intend to dwell on it. It was a fluke, he knew that… heat of the moment, near death experience… an emotional overload. Nothing that meant a damn thing to the man. He was not going to kid himself thinking otherwise. His personal feelings for him, mostly resonating from times long since passed, played little part in the night before other than his willingness to let it all go and cling for a time… savor the fact that if only for a little while he was appreciated, wanted, and he could live with that quite happily.

Jason was in such a deep sleep that he removed himself from the bed with little effort and no worry of waking him. He showered and dressed with no change in the soft snoring sounding from the cluster of blankets still lingering within the bed. With a sigh he tossed his scattered suit components in the closet with little care, planning to store it properly at a later time, and gathered up the few articles of Jason's clothing laying crumpled on the carpet before leaving the room.

Seeing Pru sprawled out on the couch in front of the television probably should not have been surprising, but he paused in the door way all the same, receiving a curious look from the woman before he continued on his way to the kitchen. Prudence followed close behind, a hint of a smile on her face as he gathered up the rest of the man's gear in his arms.

"Would you mind doing a wash and patch job? I have… things to manage elsewhere today."

He was well aware that she wasn't the slightest bit naïve or stupid, that she knew he was merely looking for a way to avoid an awkward, potentially violent morning after, but all the same she nodded, and took the crumpled mass of armored clothing off his hands.

"What should I say to the Hood when he stumbles out of bed?" She inquired, nodding her head towards the door from which he came.

He drew in a deep breath, clenching his down as he let his lids slip shut.

"As far as I'm concerned, you don't have to say anything. Hand him his things, point him to the meds, and make sure he doesn't touch anything before he leaves. I recommend the elevator and rear doors. But knowing him he'll leave the way he came." He didn't bother turning to see her unimpressed look as he made his way to the front door. "I do not know what time I'll be back. If you feel the need to cook, leave something in the oven for me. Otherwise I'll be fine to fend for myself upon my return. I've already paged the driver… remember to lock up."

And with that he was sliding his crutches beneath his arms, and walking out the door, leaving her to herself.

Pru only sighed as the door shut with a rushed thud, and stared down at the pile of kevlar, denim, and cotton in her hands. She glared at the space Tim once occupied and drew in a deep breath shaking her head.

In all the time that she had known Tim, he had never done anything half assed. Regardless of what the guy thought, or felt at this time, she doubted this… occurrence… would be any different.

Especially when the conflict at hand was the man passed out snoring within his bed. She was no saint. She had snooped plenty of times, seen the photos, the news clippings.

With a roll of her shoulders she set of towards the laundry room shaking her head.

Bats…

The whole lot of them were stubborn fools.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

She was reading the Gotham Gazette when Jason stumbled out of the bedroom half delirious with the sheet wrapped haphazardly around his waist. The two locked eyes for a brief moment, the man frozen with the look of a deer in headlights before she let out a laugh at his expense.

"You look like something the cat dragged in."

"…who? Where- what's going on?" He stumbled over his words, blinking away the remainder of sleep as he scanned the room. "Seriously, the fuck?"

Pru found herself able to do little more than cackle as she rose from her chair and cocked her hip at him.

"Name's Pru. Tim's…assistant?" She questioned herself briefly before shaking her head. "No matter… He's gone. Out. Things to do, people to see. I'm sure you understand…" She drawled.

In her opinion, his gaping said otherwise as he squirmed in the doorway.

"Your gear is on the counter, freshly cleaned, and repaired. You're welcome…" She huffed, stepping past him. "Aftercare, to-go, is beside it. Amoxicillin, some pain killers, sterile wraps, etc. Wasn't sure what you kept in whatever shack you frequent these days."

Jason's gaze shifted to the counter and back.

"I… I just- yeah... okay." He muttered, side stepping with the sheet clenched in one hand and he slid his suit beneath one arm.

He disappeared back into the bedroom for a time, leaving Pru to stand in the kitchen with her arms crossed waiting for his reappearance.

When the man finally resurfaced, he seemed lost as he stepped into the room, eyes flitting around until it dawned on her.

"Boots are at the double doors. Doesn't like dirt on his tile or carpets…" She muttered, first pointing at the leather buckled boots on the floor mat in the corner, then to her own feet only clad in socks.

He blinked at her briefly before cautiously walking past her. He slid his boots on, propping himself against the wall, before Pru joined him. He stiffened as he met her gaze, and she rose a brow at him.

"Probably easier to take the elevator, but I suppose you'll be taking your leave here?"

He gave a curt nod, but said nothing as she sighed and stepped forward, disarming the system.

He stepped out onto the balcony, shivered slightly as the cool air hit him, and seemed torn for a time as he surveyed his exit options. Before he could change his mind she stepped forward and pointed to the right ledge.

"Easy access. Take the escape down one level, cross the ledge, take the pole down. Fast, painless, great shadow cover. Use it m'self often." She sighed, gesturing. "And a bit of advice? Get off your high horse. Stop complaining when someone's trying to do you a bloody favor. Don't be selfish. He's not done a damn thing except try and keep you and the girl from getting yourselves killed. Best try and keep an open mind from here on out." She huffed.

He didn't grace her with a response as he made his leave.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tim returned fourteen hours later, long after the sun had set, barely still up on his feet as he dragged himself through the threshold, slamming the door and his crutches to the ground as he slunk across the carpet.

He said nothing to her as he passed, heading straight towards the bedroom, without bothering to check the kitchen. Pru gave a solemn sigh as she followed after him, and stopped the door shutting behind him as he made his way towards the bed, making her all the more glad she had taken the time to change the bedding after the man had left. Tim balled himself up within the blankets, never bothering to switch on the lamp as he pressed his face into the pillows, and she could feel her jaw stiffen as the frown on her face only grew with that action.

She perched herself on the foot of the bed, a hand resting on the slight swell of hip rising from the comforter as she gazed down at him in worry.

"Tim?" she prompted. "You alright?"

The teen was silent for a time, long enough that she nearly asked again, but a strangled whine sounded from the cocoon.

"…no."

She sighed pulling her legs up upon the bed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

To her surprise, a dry laugh came in response.

"It's not- not that…" he muttered and groaned as he buried himself in tighter. "I just… I'm not well. At all. Cold, sick, just want to sleep…"

"Tim…"

He could hear the accusations, the scolding in her voice, and he squeezed his eyes as tight as they could go as he willed the pounding in his head to cease.

"I know. I shouldn't have gone. Shouldn't have stressed. Shouldn't have… but not now Pru, please…"

And she would not make him beg.

Instead, she pulled herself up off the bed, got him a glass of water, and brought forth the Tylenol.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tim stayed in bed for days.

Had she not taken his temperature herself she would have thought it was just plain avoidance.

But alas, he truly was out of commission.

Though he had yet to really say anything, she knew what had caused it. A night out in the cold, a firefight that ended in blood and straining his body to carry a wounded soldier, and of course the stress that had followed, ending in him running around town the better part of the day against better judgment. Still, like the good friend she was (quite possibly the only at the present) she let it slide, let him leave her ranting to his imagination.

She took over his duties like times before, feeding the intel where it needed to go, only disturbing Tim to run the occasional question past him.

She avoided the Red Hood and Scarlet altogether, not trusting herself to bite her tongue, and keep things civil with Tim bedridden as a result of the man's actions.

Still, it worked, for a time.

However, she soon learned her mistake when she was jumped on the fifth night as she was entering through the kitchen doors, and she was forced into a brutal wrestling match on the slick tile floor at the hands of a raging Hood.

It took elbowing him in the throat to get him off, and she rolled out of reach to catch her breath, and make distraction. He was ready to pounce again when she snarled, and whipped an oven mitt at his helmet, the soft projectile throwing him off just long enough to get a word in.

"If you wake him up Todd, so help me, I will string you up by the bell-end and make you eat your steel!" She hissed, pointing at the bedroom door.

Oddly enough, it seemed to make the rage die down some, and she was greeted with a scowling face as he pried his helmet off.

"In bed?"

She glared, her lip curling in frustration.

"Yes, that is where one normally sleeps! Honestly..." She sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. "While you're out sulking like a kicked puppy, he's in bed trying to become one with the blankets, sick as a dog, while I'm manning the bases. As is typical when he's sick, which is often, because he's a ridiculously stubborn bastard…" she muttered.

Before she could protest, Jason was up on his feet, leaving her on the floor as he made his way to the bedroom. She clambered to her feet in a rush to pursue him, but he merely stood in the doorway, letting the light drift into the room just enough to see the ball curled within the center of the bed fast asleep, and she let him, peering over his shoulder instead. After a moment, he relented, and shut the door softly.

"Because I would have lied…" She rolled her eyes, turning her nose up at him.

"How the fuck should I know?" He snorted, crossing his arms. "How long?"

"Since he came home late that night." And she watched as he grimaced and clenched his jaw.

"Look…" he started, a new calm slipping nervously into his voice as he carried on. "Can I just- when he wakes up, just talk… privately for a bit?"

She could have said no, laughed at him a bit and sent him on his way with a boot to the rear, but she didn't. Instead she cocked her head, watched as he squirmed awkwardly, torn between agitation and embarrassment, and sighed.

"You know what? Fine." She conceded. "But you're not going to sit there like a lump on a log being a useless eyesore while he hibernates. You can watch him. Babysit him. Feed him when he's hungry, and deal with his sickbed temper tantrums, without killing him. And if you survive while I'm gone, I'll give you the key codes to the doors so you don't have to bloody well give me a heart attack when you get all love-sick huffy with him." She sniffed.

"I wasn't- I'm not-"

"Save it for someone who believes you." She snorted, crossing back through the kitchen, making her way towards the double doors. "In the mean time? Start cleaning. Otherwise you're a dead man. If he happens to wake and leave the safety of his cave, come out here and see this mess- those footprints? God be with you..."

And with that she left him sputtering as she dashed through the doors and flung herself over the ledge of the balcony.

Little did she know that in leaving him alone with Tim it was going to result in never being able to get rid him again…