"He's still showing no symptoms?" Oracle asked as she developed deeper into the cell structure: Cell walls were intact, plasma healthy and clear.
"Nothing," Tim replied.
Oracle glanced over her shoulder. Tim was staring straight ahead, arms folded, the muscle in his jaw flexed. No smile, not today. He was working hard, they both were. Gotham demanded everything of them, every day.
"Come on, Mr. Adams," Oracle asked, fighting off a wave of exhaustion. "What are you hiding?"
"The protein chemicals, maybe?" Tim lent in to point at the image. When he drew his arm away, his hand grazed Barbara's neck.
Barbara stopped typing, caught her breath. Tim went still. The moment he drew itself out, each second marked by the Clock Tower's mechanical heartbeat.
And then Tim turned away.
"We can't do this. Not again."
"Haematology never was your strong suit, huh Drake?" Barbara joked painfully, but Tim was already gone.
She sat there wondering why he didn't come back. And why she didn't try and stop him, like he must have hoped she would. But why make things harder than they had to be? Gotham came first, the job. It's the only choice they made, they could turn their backs on each other, but not on that.
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