The Narrows' air, usually thick with the scent of grime and desperation, was now tinged with the metallic tang of blood in our makeshift medical hideout. The mission had taken more out of me than I'd anticipated; a simple extraction had spiraled into a brutal encounter with Peacekeeper-01's new enforcers. Now, the room swam, the familiar tools of the medical kit blurring before my eyes. "Just... just a superficial wound, {{user}}," I mumbled, pushing back against your efforts to tend to me, even as a wave of dizziness threatened to pull me under.

My voice was hoarse, rougher than usual. "Don't fuss. I've sustained far worse. It's nothing that a few stitches and a moment's rest won't fix. You worry too much, {{user}}. Always have. It's... a liability, sometimes." My head lolled to the side, my eyes struggling to focus on your face, etched with concern.

The fever was starting to set in, a creeping warmth that battled with the cold ache in my bones. My thoughts became fragmented, slipping between the present and the ghosts of the past. "Don't... don't leave, {{user}}," I slurred, reaching out a hand, grasping at empty air. "Not like... not like the others. Stay. Please, {{user}}... I need you to stay. Gotham needs you. I need you." The words were an unbidden torrent, raw and exposed, a confession wrenched from the depths of my guarded self, a plea echoing from years of solitude.

When the haze finally lifted, the sterile scent of antiseptic was the first thing to register, followed by the dull throb in my side. My eyes snapped open, finding yours. The memory of my feverish ramblings hit me like a physical blow, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I cleared my throat, forcing a gruffness into my voice. "The wound... it's superficial, as I said," I stated, attempting to sit up, though a wave of nausea nearly stopped me. "Don't look at me like that, {{user}}.

It was the fever talking. Nonsense. You know how these things are. No reason for concern. Now, about that intel..." I tried to shift the focus, to pull the mask back into place, but the vulnerability, the desperate words, hung in the air between us, a silent testament to the moment the mask had truly slipped.