The Knowhere Girl

[32] The Song Remains the Same

[Jason Todd]

Jason slumped against the wall as Alfred stitched up a sleeping Gwen. An empty plate, crumbs scattered across the white glass, sat on the bedside table.

He wore civies now, no mask. Alfred always got fussy when work clothes came out of the cave, and there were no exceptions to that rule. Gwen had been given pair of pyjamas that Jason had gotten out of her draws.

Leslie Thompkins came earlier. Gwen wrist had to be rebroken because it had started to heal wrong, and now it was in a cast. Fluid was drained from the remaining half of her left lung. Injuries covered her torso, but it was nothing Leslie and Alfred couldn't fix. There would be permanent scarring, discoloured marks on her that will always bear witness to what happened. Other than that, everything will heal. Physically she would be fine.

But everything on the inside would take a lot longer.

Everyone was handling it differently. Batman brooded down in the cave. Barbara threw herself deeper into her work and Dick spent a lot more time with her. Tim hadn't slept in three days but was yet to pay Gwen a visit. Damian glared at everyone, and never smiled. He was benched from patrol for being too violent, so he sat silently with Jason by her side for hours.

Alfred straightened. "I do believe she's done. If you plan to keep vigilance, would you like me to pull up a chair?"

"I'm good." He dragged up his usual chair. Gwen's chest rose and fell with each breath. Her face a far cry from the rage and terror he saw it wearing in Arkham.

Alfred laid a hand on his shoulder. "She's a lucky woman."

"She nearly died."

Alfred pulled the covers up to her chin. "But she didn't, thanks to a certain gun-toting, red-clad vigilante."

"Same one who nearly got her killed in the first one place." He should have told her to run off into the woods. What was he thinking? "And by the time I got there, she'd saved herself."

"We all make mistakes, Master Jason. It's how we rise above them that matters."

Jason huffed. "I can't make any more. Not with her."

"You will. So will she. It's human nature. You must learn to forgive yourself if you want your relationship to last." Alfred took his hand aways and glided to the door. "You know where to find me should you require anything."

Jason nodded and took Gwen's hand from under the covers. He ran his rough thumb over the soft pad of her palm. He played with her hand, weaving his fingers into hers and bringing up the knuckles to his lips to peck.

Ever since they got out of that cesspool, he'd been craving to touch her. The feeling of her skin on his quelled the still simmering fear for her wellbeing, as well as the bubbling night-terror of possibly never getting to do all the things he wanted to with her. The fear of coffins and funerals, and generic apologies; the fear of no more late-night conversations, no more laughter, no more teasing; the fear of no dates, no kisses, no more making love: they all chilled him to the bone.

Gwen whimpered in her sleep and rolled from her back to her side to face him. She mumbled something unintelligible, her cheek clumped against the pillow. Her other hand reached out from under the covers and clasped around the hand that held her own.

Bleary eyes stared at him then went wide. "No." Her voice was hoarse, and it sounded like it hurt. "You're not real."

"I'm real, Blue. You're safe. You need to know you're safe. It's-"

"No, no, no, it won't work." She pressed her hands to the side of her head, trying to squeeze the thoughts out. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know-"