Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, folks! My house got broken into and my computer (with a half-written chapter on it—boooooooo!) was stolen. Still kind of putting my life back together and figuring out what I had backed up and what I didn't. But guess what? The next chapter after this is already finished (major writing burst tonight!) and will be posted in actually a few DAYS, as opposed to the usual month. I want to give you a chance to take in this one first (and for me to do one more edit of Chapter 15) but then this arc (with the ground-work for what kind of relationship Terry and Jason have) will be complete… and then on to the even larger story I have in mind.

And now, on to even happier news! DING DING DING, we have a winner of the 'name my story arc' contest. Congrats DragonChild157 for the inspiration. I ended up mixing your title with my own idea-soup, but I like the way you were thinking. Please feel free to PM me your favorite pairing/DC characters/plot-bunnies and I'll see what I can whip up.

Enjoy, everybody! And keep an eye out for the next chapter very SOON. ~ Tsuki

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I don't own any characters mentioned in this story. The rights belong to DC comics, Bob Kane, etc.

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Darkness Cannot Drive, Part 15/? (Chapter 14)

Terry sees the mercenaries running over the rooftops, a few half-carrying and half-dragging injured members, about a half a block before he is technically at the second Wayne Tech lab. "Looks like they're slagging out. Why?"

[[Why don't you go down and ask them nicely?]] The dry humor in Wayne's voice is thick enough to be almost tangible. Terry smirks and thumbs the button to open the Bat-Wing's back exit.

"I think I'll do just that…" Terry plummets out, his wings flaring into action and focusing his descent. His foot slams into the last in the line of fleeing mercenaries and he smirks at the sound of cracked glass and boot-on-metal. The mercenary curses as he falls to the ground.

"Are you crazy?! You're going to get us all killed!"

"What?" Terry grabs the man by the collar of his Kevlar. "Explain!" he growls in his best Batman-voice. He congratulates himself briefly when the rough-and-tumble mercenary shudders ever so slightly in his grip.

"The lab is gonna' blow—and the safest place to be is anywhere but here."

"Slag it!" Terry looks up at where the men were running from. "Who else was in there with you?" When the man hesitates, Terry pulls him closer, half-growling and half-yelling into the man's gas-mask covered face. "Tell me!"

"Uh… some old guy and someone in a red helmet. I haven't seen 'em come out—my bet is that they're going to get caught in the blast."

Terry curses under his breath and feels his chest tighten. He practically hurls the injured mercenary away from him and takes off toward the smoking Wayne Tech building at top speed.

[[You should have zip-tied him. We could have gotten answers,]] Wayne crackles over the comm.

"No time!" Terry gasps back. As he nears the building, he sees a flash of silver hair and a man stumbling out of the rooftop emergency exit. "Mr. Drake! We need to get you out of here," he calls as he lands. "Where's Jason?"

Tim coughs, shaking his head. "He's inside. He's getting the nanos. Place is going to blow in less than a minute, though, if I've been keeping track correctly. We both need to get out of the way!"

Terry grits his teeth and almost tells Drake to shove it, but common sense rules out and he finds himself grabbing the old ex-Robin by the waste and plunging off the roof, his boot propulsion lighting up and pushing them forward. He drops them both a little further than where he took down the now-very-missing RAGE merc… but he can't be bothered to look for any trace of the mercenary's escape. Can't be bothered to even ask Drake if he's okay. Can't do anything but keep his eyes glued to the silhouette of Wayne Tech's second lab building, his breath shallow as he silently counts to sixty.

When the explosion hits, it's hot and ferocious. Even at this distance, Terry feels the weight and the burn. Scraps and shrapnel are jettisoned only a few yards from his feet, and the deafening blast causes his ears to rings and his head to ache slightly.

He can barely think at all when Drake murmurs, "Oh God, is he…"

Before he can hear the end of Drake's question, Terry is in the air, wings out-stretched, boots on full blast. He lands as close to the raging fire as he can, the heat achingly hot and the smoke almost unbearable even through the suit's air filters.

[[Terry! Be careful!]] Wayne's voice is sharp and insistent, filled with something that almost sounds like panic and worry. But Terry will think about that later. Now he just has to look. Has to search for any sign…

And there it is. A figure pushing through the flames. Terry's breath escapes from his mouth in a heavy rush as he sees the silhouetted figure hit the Gotham air, coughing as he pulls his helmet from his head. Jason's coat is warped and nearly melted and his right arm looks raw where the blast has burnt through leather and Kevlar.

But he's alive.

"Oh, Jesus," a voice from behind Terry sighs, relieved. "I was about to start getting a complex." Terry looks to see Tim Drake half vaulting over the rooftop, his right hand still braced on the fire-escape. "You okay, Jay?"

"Oh yeah," Jason coughs. "Never better. In fact," he coughs again, his face strained, "let's schedule another massive explosion where I breathe in too much smoke for next week too." Another cough. "Sounds real peachy."

"I'm sure. Um… I hate to ask, but…"

Jason nods his head and holds up a clear cube, a glistening test tube locked in its center. "It's fine. Like I'd go through all that bullshit and not" pause for a cough "protect your stupid mini-bots. Just take the" cough "damn things, will you?"

Tim smiles, his face showing signs of wrinkles in his relief. "Thanks, Jason." He takes the cube from Jason's grip carefully, staring at the contents like it's a potentially injured child. After a moment of inspection, Drake breathes a sigh of relief. "I should get this to a status chamber. Assuming the damage wasn't too bad, the primary lab will do." Tim nods once more at Jason. "Thanks—really."

"Yeah, well," Jason seemingly tries to stifle another cough, but it ends up slipping out anyway, whistling through gritted teeth. "You owe me. Just remember that." Drake nods knowingly and then carefully descends the building's fire escape.

"Bruce?" Terry whispers into his communicator.

[[What is it?]]

"Just wanted to let you know that my system's going to go dark. Don't freak out or try to reboot, okay?"

[[What?! Terry…!]]

Terry flicks the switch to shut off the suit, feeling the softening of the fabric as all the circuitry goes down. He peels off his mask in a fluid motion. The lack of filtration suddenly makes the night air smell like campfire and burnt rubber.

Jason looks over and smiles at him weakly. "You know, when there's a bunch of smoke in the air, people usually put on masks, not take them o…. mmmmff!"

Terry doesn't think, he just moves on instinct, his mouth pressing against Jason's, hard and desperate. Jason stiffens for a moment in shock and Terry worries for a second that he was wrong, that he misread everything. Then a dam breaks somewhere and Jason melts, the uninjured arm snaking around Terry and pulling him closer. Then it's like a force of nature, two frames pressed into each other, mouths hungry and opening. Terry feels more than hears Jason moan into his mouth and his entire body shakes as Jason's hand moves from Terry's waist and is suddenly fisted in his hair, roots shrieking as Jason pushes his head closer, as they breathe each other's air, and moan, and gasp. It's hot and raw and everything that Terry imagined at three in the morning alone in his bed, legs tangled in his sheets and biting his lip to stay quiet. In some ways, it's more than he imagined—because who could have guessed how Jason would pull him in like oxygen, or how their hips would press together, or how wet and hot—how perfect—their mouths would be pulling and sucking and pressing at one another?

Just when it seems almost too much, like something important will shatter if this continues, Jason pulls back, a hacking cough escaping from his mouth.

"Oh, geeze, sorry…" Terry gasps, his face burning both from embarrassment and from the lingering flames. Slag it, he hears sirens in the distance—Gotham's finest on their way.

Jason shakes his head and coughs once more as he gathers his breath. "No… problem." He looks up, his stare glassy-eyed and hesitant. "That was… unexpected."

"Really?" Terry feels his face grow hotter as he fingers the slick texture of his mask between two fingers. "I thought we'd kind of been flirting and dancing around this for a while."

"Hmm," Jason scratches the back of his neck and half-smiles. "I wasn't sure if I was just reading into things. I guess not…" He looks pensive as he stares off into the twilight sky. "Sounds like we're going to have company soon."

"Yeah," Terry agrees. His heart is pounding against his ribcage like it's trying to escape from his chest. "God, I need to check in with Bruce and charge up the suit. Plus, he's going to be wondering what my going dark was all about."

"Hmm?" Jason looks over, like Terry's words woke him up from a strange dream. "Oh. Right. Yeah." He smirks and gestures at the mask dangling from Terry's fingers. "Better put that on, Baby Bat. The pigs are on their way."

Terry snorts, rolling his eyes at Jason dramatically—as if a semblance of normalness with break this tension, this aching. He pulls on his mask and ghosts his hand near the switch to turn it on. He pauses, looking up at Jason through the cowl's white lenses. "So… assuming I can get out of the Bruce's third-degree relatively quickly with vague and non-committal answers," Terry starts, "should I… come over? I mean, I can bring some bandages and burn cream. How's your arm?"

Jason shakes his head. "No worries on the aid. I'll be healed by tomorrow mid-day, maybe late afternoon. It'll sting and really fucking itch for a while, but nothing from a kit's going to help. I just need some time. Maybe some sleep. But… yeah. You can come over. If you want to."

"Uh… well… do you want me to?"

Jason chuckles. The sirens are louder now, almost on top of them. As if on cue, both of them turn and run, vaulting onto the next roof and slipping into the shadows. Jason grins, white teeth flashing in the night. Terry looks at the helmet in Jason's hand and wants to will it to crack and break—anything to avoid it hiding that knee-melting smile of Jason's again. As if heading his thoughts' silent call, Jason's mouth becomes larger, gets closer, and now Jason's face is right next to Terry's. They're breathing the same air and the space between their lips is like electricity and Terry wonders when Jason's going to press forward, going to kiss him again, going to breathe him in and engulf him and drive him crazy. Instead, Jason's mouth just hovers an inch away from Terry's. "Sure," he breathes against Terry's mouth. "Come on over."

Before Terry can curse at him, call him a serious slagging tease, Jason bolts away, escaping over the rooftop edge and out into the darkening night.

Terry takes a moment to let his breath slow and his limbs stop feeling quite so numb. Under his mask, he can feel his mouth twisted into a pretty silly, stupid smile. He thumbs his suit back on and tries to think of a decent excuse to tell Bruce. But god, it's hard to think of anything right now. He tries to focus as he spread's his suit's wings, points himself in the direction of the parked Bat-Wing, and fires up his rockets.

For one spectacular moment, Terry is happy.

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TO BE CONTINUED…