The last thing Jaime remembered was walking through the zeta tubes. His memory was hazy, though, and he couldn't remember what location he'd punched in. If he had even done so, maybe he'd just went to the last used location. A blinding flash of light and then oblivion.

Reality slammed into him all at once, like breaking the surface after being too deep underwater. Jaime's vision was a blurry mess that swam nauseatingly (in and) out of focus. He felt himself sway to an unheard jerky rhythm as he tried to focus on his surroundings. His head pounded with every beat of his heart, blinding him with every pulse.

Where was he?

Cold concrete against his curled fists and knees. N-No, he moaned mentally, mustering every ounce of his strength to just breathe. W-Where am I?

The dark sky night greeted him when he looked up, city lights blanketed beneath his perch. He was still cold; but not numb at least. Jaime forced his eyes to move, to blink, to flutter at least. It proved a herculean task, and the struggle to blink once nearly wiped him out.

His vision still swam. Not again. He swayed involuntarily, feeling the concrete scrape against his kneeling form. A sound like metal shrieked; his armor. His arms shook as if they'd been holding him up for hours. He could barely feel them.

Echoes around him; flashes of light from faraway. His eyes blinked instinctually, and the effort lessened. Once more, and again, until he was able to blink as naturally as he breathed.

He realized he'd been breathing nearly this entire time; a jagged movement performed haltingly - almost begrudgingly - his body could not take in enough air to even blow out.

A cold, harsh wind blew by, rattling his bones. Jaime's vision focused somewhat, and he recognized that he was on a rooftop, but could not place where he was.

He tried to shield his eyes with his hand but could barely move it. He seemed rooted to the floor. Or maybe he was just too weak.

He wasn't very comfortable, on the cold floor.

He was on the floor.

How long had he been there? Minutes, hours, or days?

The echoes sharpened into somewhat familiar sounds, but they still escaped him. His brain was liquefied, he was sure of it. What were those noises he was hearing? He couldn't tell, except that they were familiar to him. Just like a kitchen was familiar to him, but he couldn't have guessed where the silverware was kept. It was approximated knowledge at best.

With desperation, Jaime checked his comms, only to find they hadn't been tampered with.

Then why hadn't anyone checked in on him?

You gotta get up, he told himself, eyes tearing up.

No, he couldn't. He was so tired. He was so cold. He was so afraid. He was so alone.

There were noises around him, and little by little, Jaime started deciphering the sounds of the city below; cars, horns, the usual screaming banter of the night life. God, it was like his head was wrapped in cotton; everything sounded so far away, so faded.

"The fu... hap-" Jaime started to rasp out, but a wave of nausea cut him off. The tears flowed freely as he retched and gagged.

Where am I? he thought distantly.

He was still on the floor.

Why am I alone?

When had he fallen to the floor? How long had he been here? What time was it? What day was it? How long had he been here?

Ringing.

Jaime heard ringing.

His vision snapped into focus.

He was still on the rooftop. His hand jerked toward his pocket, reaching—instinctive—

Another wave of nausea.

Weak, he chided himself as he fell down onto the rough concrete.

He had no air left in his lungs to speak, much less walk. "N-No... No... no..." Then—black spots, the world tilting— Oh. No, Jaime fought as hard as he could, wishing - forcing - the scarab to keep him awake. Obey me, you stupid useless piece of shit body! Stay awake! NOW! He growled as he felt a fresh stab of pain in his back where the scarab was grafted into his spine; and another migraine quickly followed.

Awake, finally.

The first thought that went through Jaime's mind when he actually felt in control of his motor functions was not to wonder where he was, or how long he'd been out of commission for, or even if he was alone. Before even opening his eyes, before fully registering that he was kneeling on the rough cold concrete, before smelling the familiar scent of trash and gasoline, Jaime thought this:

I'm scared.

His phone was still ringing, but Jaime didn't register it among the mounting fear and anxiety. Wet, harrowing sobs tore their way out of his throat. Where was he? Why was it night? How long had he been out for? All the questions finally came rushing in, painted with his initial fear and exhaustion.

He was tired. Tired of fighting this; tired of snapping back to reality after having spent an undue number of hours stuck in waking dreams. He was tired of feeling like a prisoner in his own body.

Control…

He didn't have any control.

Jaime Reyes did not have anything under control.

Jaime wept, he sobbed, and cried. And when he didn't have any more tears to shed, or voice to cry out with, he sobbed some more. Then he howled, tearlessly, until he tore his throat out. Until he was exhausted. But it was his decision to do so. Get this out of me, he thought as he wailed. He was too far gone to push it down, all he could do was empty himself and hope he'd be back to his old self again. It had only been a few weeks ago that he had a routine, yet it seemed like years had passed in this torment.

A cry tore the night, as Jaime forced everything out of him. It turned to wet, gagging sound as he expelled whatever was left in his system; mostly bile, which burned and aggravated his already raw throat.

Finally, when there was a lull in his misery, and he remembered that he had a body with limbs and apposable thumbs, he reached for his phone. With shaking hands and a weak grip, he barely managed to hold onto his phone. It took him even longer to focus on the blurry screen long enough to read the single notification:

2 missed calls from Artemis.

Jaime tried to press the notification and struggled to put the receiver to his ear. Nothing. Jerking back, he saw he was still on the same screen. He tried to tighten his grip, but it made the tremors worse.

Get a grip, he barked at himself; even his inner monologue's voice breaking as he was pulled apart at the seams. He tried to ground himself, to focus on the phone, to breathe.

Breathe, he commanded, as calmly as he could muster. He sucked cold air in, but it seemed to slip out in a fit of gasping and coughing nearly instantly. With each attempt, it seemed he breathed in less and less.

N-Not again, no, he begged, and as a pathetic whine escaped his dry, chapped lips, he started hitting the side of his head on the ground repeatedly. All he could think was shutmeoffshutmeoffshutmeoff, unendingly.

Everything somewhat quelled by his outburst, his exhaustion reduced the tremors enough for him to finally press the call button. Artemis was going to be furious. She must've been, to call him twice and not even text him. Still, though, he would take that anger; that anchor. He couldn't be alone right now.

It rang once. Then twice, and a third time. On the fourth ring, he was about to hang up, feeling more tears well up, when she answered.

"…Jaime?" Artemis asked, exasperated, exhausted, hesitant, but most of all… relieved.

Jaime stifled a sob into the phone, curling on his side and cradling the device. His voice was hoarse and nearly unrecognizable. "H-Hey, s-sorry I missed… your calls."

"You sound like shit," Artemis replied bluntly, but there was a softness to it. "But you're alive," she sighed, voice breaking a little.

Jaime mumbled something that sounded a little like "You're not mad?" though it came out much more garbled and stutteringly.

"Jaime Reyes I am livid," she scolded. "I was worried sick, I still am! I heard you had come in and then had wandered off after talking with Nightwing. I tracked him down and demanded he tell me what he said to you. When I heard how you reacted to what he said… Where the hell did you disappear off too?"

Jaime hiccupped, trying keep down the crying. "I-"

"And why did you turn off your location? For fuck's sake, how the hell was I going to find you!?" Her voice was getting louder with each question, the hours of exhaustion and anxiety finally spilling out, to be vented in relieved anger.

Jaime curled tighter on himself. "'M sorry," he whined out, voice shaking no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

"Jaime," Artemis said, in a clipped but calmer tone.

"P-Please, I don't know where I am," he hiccupped, furiously fighting the sobs that wracked his tired body. "Can you pick me up?" he asked pathetically.

"Jaime-" Artemis started, but his voice cracked again.

"Please," he whimpered, curling in on himself. "I don't- I don't want to be alone."

Her breath hitched. Then, softer, "Okay. It's okay Blue, I'm coming."

Jaime didn't know how long he'd been waiting there, curled up in the foetal position, waiting for Artemis to arrive. He'd begged her to stay on the line, and she had, for a while. Long enough to figure out where he was, and until she reached the zeta tubes. She had to hang up, "just for a minute," she had told him.

No active communications in the zeta tube.

It had felt like more than a minute, and yet Jaime knew it hadn't been that long. He'd been staring at the seconds tick on by on his phone, one by one. After the thirty-second mark, he started fidgeting; he'd long run out of energy, let alone patience. He needed help.

She's coming, he told himself. She's coming.

After what felt like an eternity, the phone screen lit up and the night was filled with the strident ringing. Jaime answered immediately. He pressed the receiver to his ear, despite knowing the armor could act as a peripheral; he latched onto it like a man overboard held onto a buoy. His lifeline in an ocean of fear and loneliness.

"This is really important," Artemis said, the second he answered. "Look at your surroundings, and tell me what you see, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Jaime nodded, before realizing she wouldn't catch that. "Y-Yeah" he stuttered and groaned as he forced and pushed himself into a sitting position with great difficulty. Craning his neck this way and that, he scanned his surroundings. "I see… buildings, l-like… office spaces maybe?"

"Okay," replied Artemis, clearly expecting more information. She knew she had to ask yes-or-no questions, to direct Jaime. "Okay, that's a start." Her tone was softer than usual. "Any billboards?"

"N-No," he replied, and sniffed. "There's this image on the building in front, I guess? B-But that's not a billboard."

"Can you take a picture of that for me, Blue? It would help a lot."

Jaime mumbled an affirmation and took a picture of the building. Artemis received it quick enough. The building itself stood taller than its neighbours, and at the top of it was the name of some French-sounding company; a graphic design company, judging by the elegant but generic image of swirls printed on the side of the building.

He heard her tapping on her phone, and humming – almost purring – in satisfaction. "Blue, you're wonderful," she told him, and Jaime could hear her start to run. "I got you, I'll be there soon."

"What's soon?" he croaked pathetically.

"Well, you're on the other side of town, so-"

"How is that soon!?"

"Listen, you disappeared for well over 16 hours, do you know how worried sick you made me? Anything less than that is soon," she reproached him, then added more gently, "Within the hour, okay? I'm not Superman, but I'm coming as fast as I can."

Jaime hummed tiredly on the line but didn't reply. Artemis decided to stay on the call and narrate her progress through the city. After a while, their conversation drifted into a tense, but welcomed silence, punctuated by Artemis' running and panting.

"No one even knew I was gone," he cried after a long time. "You're- You're the only one," he started gasping and hiccupping once more as fresh tears fell from his eyes. He felt so alone without Artemis there with him.

Artemis was silent on the line. For a moment. For just too long that Jaime knew that this was a reflection on him. So, when Artemis sighed and finally spoke up, Jaime wasn't sure if he believed her. "They didn't know – even Nightwing thought it was normal you left. To 'process' things, he told me." Artemis chuckled dryly but there was no mirth in it. "They don't get it, Blue. They don't get us."

Jaime sniffed sadly. Part of him didn't want to believe her; all his friends had seen and lived through shit no one else had. And yet when Jaime had checked out, none of his friends had noticed. Not Connor, who knew what it was like to not be someone; not Bart, who had lived all his life under Reach rule, living under Blue Beetle's reign of terror, seeing an unliving machine using Jaime Reyes' body; not Megan, the world's most powerful telepath. Not even Nightwing, who had been there, been the one to unknowingly open the door for Jaime's mind to bolt through.

Reluctantly, Jaime realized that Artemis must've been right. As always, he mused.

"No," he replied finally. "I guess they don't."

"It's not your fault," Artemis said, as though she had been waiting for Jaime to agree. Her voice had a soothing factual tone to it. "They never got me, either. Not fully. You learn to hide it. To be able to cope, you have to."

Jaime huffed out a raspy, desperate laugh. "I don't think I can do that. Every time I do, every time I stuff it down or try to hide it, I wind up like this. Waking up hours later, waiting to be saved because I'm too fucked up to pick myself up."

"I'm there in two," Artemis was huffing, clearly running up stairs. "Jaime, you're not alone. Not like I was. I won't let that happen to you, don't you know that by now?"

Jaime mumbled a non-reply. He wanted to believe her; believe that there was someone out there able to help and guide him through this. Clearly the team didn't know, and obviously Artemis did. Jaime opened his mouth to reply, but Artemis spoke up before he could formulate any words.

"I'm here," she said, and Jaime heard the metal door to access the rooftop clang and creak open.

Jaime looked at her, dishevelled and sweaty, backlit by the dim staircase light, there to rescue him; like an angel in a renaissance painting. Jaime actually fought the urge to reach out to her like he was some damn kid. But he didn't need to reach out, because when Artemis closed the distance, falling to her knees painfully and scraping them to get to Jaime, she reached out to him.

And for once, Jaime felt like maybe he'd be okay.

Jaime didn't know how long they'd stayed there, clinging to each other as if he had almost died. Maybe he had. Maybe he still would. But none of that mattered now. Now he wasn't alone. And in that moment, that was all that mattered to him.

"Jesus, dude, you reek." Artemis broke the embrace to look him over: visibly noticing the puddle of dried vomit. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

Jaime nodded, feeling self-conscious. His breath could probably knock out Gorilla Grod. He let her drag him up to a shaking, but somewhat stable standing position.

"You good?" she asked, and when Jaime nodded, she slapped him. "That's for scaring the fuck out of me. Never do that to me again, Reyes. Got it?" She jabbed a finger in his chest, punctuating her question.

Despite the slap, and despite her harsh tone, Jaime felt a smile creep up on his face. "Yes ma'am," he replied, maybe more fondly than he ought to. "You remind me of my mom when you're angry like that."

Artemis snorted a 'thank you' and dragged him towards the staircase. Jaime tried to ask where they were going, but Artemis shushed him and just told him to doff his armour. He only now noticed that Artemis hadn't come for him in her Tigress suit. This hadn't been a Team mission, he reminded himself. It was Artemis looking out for him.

The second he removed his armor, Artemis' breath hitched. He knew he must've looked like absolute shit after his little outing. Jaime caught a glimpse of himself in the window on the ground floor. Greasy hair, pale skin, sunken eyes - the usual - but worsened by his exhaustive crying; red rimmed, dull brown eyes, dry and cracked lips, tear tracks on his cheeks.

"I do look like shit," he remarked in a 'what else is new?' tone, as Artemis opened the building's back door into a shady alley. She took him through a few streets, stopping at a gas station to pick up a protein bar, a 5-hour energy shot, and a bottle of water. She then pushed him into the washroom and told him to clean his face.

"It'll help," she said, and when he came back, she stuffed the protein bar into his mouth. "Eat up. We're going to get you washed up; but you need to look human before we get back to base."

Jaime did feel more human, after being stuffed with energy, calories, and water. By the time they reached the zeta tube, he just looked a little tired instead of like someone who had been damaging his own vocal cords screaming in despair.

His voice was still hoarse, though.

"That's fine," Artemis assured him, as she punched in the location to the Watchtower. "If anyone asks, just say you hadn't spoken since you left yesterday morning."

"Y-Yesterday morning!?" Jaime yelped, and winced.

"Technically, yes. I know we're just past midnight, but whatever."

Quietly, the two walked through the portals, and they were home. There were some questions from the Team when they both walked into the living room, but just as Artemis had indicated – and just as Jaime had reluctantly agreed – none of them knew he went missing. Though, when Nightwing spotted Jaime in the hallway just past the kitchen, he did make a comment.

"See? Told you he was fine. You doing okay, Blue?" It wasn't asked smugly, but Jaime couldn't help but feel like if anyone should have picked up on how not fine Jaime was, it was Nightwing.

Artemis placed a hand on Jaime's back, discreetly; comfortingly.

"Yeah, jus' a little tired is all."

Nightwing smiled, and his shoulders sagged minutely; relief - worries assuaged. "Glad to hear it. You might wanna take a hot shower, though, you sound like you're coming down with something. I'll talk to you guys later," he said as he continued walking off, nose deep in the files he was carrying.

Artemis and Jaime shared a look. 'Didn't I tell you?' said Artemis' eyes.

Jaime just followed her to the locker rooms; past the gym. Jaime entered the men's room and proceeded to take off his shirt, before pausing. He hadn't heard the door close behind him. Jaime turned to see Artemis walking in and froze.

"Uh, this is the men's… room?" he said to her, incredulous, and covering his chest with his shirt.

"Keep moving, she said, and locked the door behind her.

Jaime gulped, not sure what to make of this. "I-I, uh… I-"

"I'm not going to steal your virtue, you prude," Artemis chastised, nudging him in the direction of the showers. When he turned to look at her, she added softly. "I'm… scared to let you out of my sight again."

Jaime sighed, feeling a tightness in his chest. He hesitantly put a hand on Artemis' shoulder, squeezing it in what he hoped was a comforting motion. "I… I'm not going anywhere," he said.

She leaned into the touch, momentarily. "Yeah, I know. Because I'll be right here."

Jaime retracted his hand, beet red. "Woah, wait-"

"Keep arguing and I'll be in the showers, is that what you want? I could use one right now too, so don't tempt me."

Jaime figured there would be worse things, but appreciated the choice. "N-No, that's alright. I'm going," he said, defeated, but not dejectedly. He still waited until he was in the showers to undress, throwing his clothes far away enough they wouldn't get wet, but not where Artemis could see him naked. As he turned on the water, Jaime finally noticed how cold he had been.

His fingers ached and burned, his arms and legs itching as the blood started flowing normally through his extremities once more. As Jaime soaked in the boiling water, and tension ever so slowly ebbed from his tired frame, he noticed something. Quietly, privately in a way, Artemis was humming in the locker room. A gentle, slow melody; like the kind a mother would hum while caring for their child. It was soft. Softer than anything he'd heard from Artemis – not as raw or emotional, but in a way much more exposed.

Jaime stayed there, showering as she hummed.

He hadn't showered for this long in years.