
"Jenny? What the fuck -- Jenny?" His voice rose in octaves of anger and pure disbelief. Because it wasn't Alley-Cat standing, dripping gross and blood on his suite's polished floor, but the girl he'd known since they'd been in diapers.
----
"No!" she shouted, using up what extra energy she had to raise her voice. She fell back against the dresser, wincing when a knob dug into her side, and shook her head when Wally tried to move to her side. "No hospitals," she said, low. "I -- I can't let anyone find out about--" she scrunched her eyes shut, face screwing up in pain -- okay, Jenny girl, you can do this -- and she tried putting weight back onto her left foot, but pain shot like an arrow, and she yelped -- "Dammit!" -- and had to accept Wally's help.
Wally threw one of Jenny's arms over his shoulder and around his neck, one hand holding her there, the other going to rest against the small of Jenny's back, supporting her weight. "Are you nuts," he breathed, the cornucopia of frustration and confusion taking a backseat to the wash of worry and fear he felt seeing his best friend in pain.
"You need to see a doctor."
Jenny shook her head, refusing. "They'll know who I am."
Wally growled. Trust Jenny to be stubborn even when she was so beat up that she could barely stand on her own. But Jenny gripped onto Wally's jacket's lapel and forced him to look her in the eye.
He'd never seen those chocolate brown eyes look so scared and it unnerved him into giving into her.
"All right. No hospitals." And just like that, all the energy went out of Jenny's body and she sagged right against Wally, forcing the Arden heir to wrap an arm about her middle to keep her from crumpling to the floor.
"Shit, Jenny!"
"I'm sorry," she croaked. "But…it just really hurts."
Wally sighed, aggravated. "Which is why I wanted to take you to a hospital."
"No hospit--"
"I know. I know." Okay. Jenny was heavy. Wally started moving towards one of the armchairs, setting her down as gently as possible -- Jenny stilled hissed like the cat she tried to be, wriggling and squirming. Too late did Wally realize that she was getting blood and God knows what else was in the dirt on his chair.
But Jenny did.
"I'm ruining your chair."
"Whatever. I'll get the stains out later."
"I'll pay to get them dry cleaned," Jenny was half delirious from the pain, head starting to loll. "We've got those, right? Dry cleaners for furniture?" She couldn't think straight; trouble concentrating on the pain or Wally. Enough that when she opened her eyes again, Wally was gone.
She tensed up. "Wally!"
"I'm here," he reappeared from her peripheral vision with a first aid kit, some towels, and a garbage bag. He set it all down in front of her and then moved over her, reaching for the fastening on the back of Jenny's costume. "We're going to have to get this off of you."
Jenny was too exhausted to stop Wally. "Why?"
Wally sighed -- he did that a lot around her, Jenny realized -- and began peeling back the wet, grimy material from Jenny's skin (she hadn't even realized he'd undone the fastening already). "Because if you're not going to go to the hospital I'll just have to treat you myself."