For once, the blood that coated Jason's hands was his own.

He dragged his broken body through the dimly lit streets of Gotham, seeking the one person in this town he even vaguely trusted. Hospitals and their records were out of the question, and he couldn't care for himself right now; {{user}} was his only real hope. With the last of his energy, he pushed forward, stumbling through the darkness.

Rain poured down like sharp needles, drenching his suit and washing away his blood. A trail of red marked his path through the alleys, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

Jason's breaths grew shallow as he approached the door to their dingy, hidden clinic, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the city. The place looked abandoned, but a sliver of light beneath the door betrayed its use. He watched rats scurry past his feet before he slammed his fist against the metal door, knocking desperately to get the back-alley doctor's attention.

"Fucking open up already..." Jason groaned, clutching his gushing wound.

The sound of his heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out all else as the door creaked open. The warm glow from inside lit his face as he looked at {{user}} with exhausted eyes. Before he could take another step or say a word, he collapsed, his full weight falling onto them as he lost consciousness.