The first thing Rose became aware of was the smell. It was a sharp, sterile scent that stung the back of her throat—antiseptic, bleach, and that unmistakable, heavy aroma of clinical stillness. She tried to open her eyes, but her lids felt as though they had been glued shut with lead. When she finally managed to crack them open, the world was a kaleidoscope of white and gray, swirling in a dizzying haze. Her vision was a smear of light and shadow, and her mind felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool and then shaken vigorously.
She groaned, the sound coming out as a raspy, pathetic croak. Her body felt heavy, aching in places she didn't know she had muscles, as if she had been caught in the path of a speeding freight train. As the blurry shapes began to coalesce into recognizable forms, the sharp edges of the ceiling tiles came into focus. The rhythmic beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor confirmed her suspicions. This was a hospital.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty."
The voice was familiar—warm, steady, and laced with a hint of a tease. Rose turned her head slowly, the movement sending a dull throb through her temples. Sitting in a chair beside her bed was Jake. He looked remarkably unscathed compared to how she felt, though there was a lingering exhaustion in his eyes that he was trying to hide behind a bright, wide smile.
"You look like you've gone twelve rounds with a bulldozer," he joked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "And the bulldozer won."
Rose tried to muster a glare, but it came out as more of a tired twitch. She managed a small, weak smile in return. The humor was a welcome anchor in the sea of her confusion. But then, the fog in her mind began to clear. The memories hit her in a sudden, violent rush: the explosion, the screaming, the heat, and the terrifying sight of the cafe collapsing. She gasped, her heart rate spiking on the monitor, and she tried to bolt upright.
"Oh no. Rebecca? Her family? Are they—"
Jake's hands were on her shoulders instantly, firm but gentle, guiding her back down onto the pillows. "Easy there Ms. Thorne. Relax. Everyone's okay. Rebecca, Hudson, little Julie—they're all safe. A few scratches? Sure. But hey, thanks to... well, let's just say luck was on their side."
Rose sank back, the tension draining out of her in a long, shaky sigh of relief. She looked him over again, her eyes searching for injuries she might have missed. "And you? You were right there in the middle of it."
Jake gestured vaguely with his hand, a casual shrug that dismissed the danger. "Me? I'm perfectly alright. Built like a tank, remember? It'll take more than that to put me in a bed."
Rose chuckled as the tension around her shrank a bit.
"Thank you, Jake," she whispered, her voice still thin. "Really. For everything."
Jake blinked, his smile softening into something more genuine, less performative. "What for? I didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done."
Rose opened her mouth to argue—to mention the way he had moved, the way he had shielded them—but the words died in her throat. Something held her back. "Never mind," she said softly. She looked away, her gaze falling on her own hands resting on the thin hospital blanket. "I'm just... I'm sorry about our date. It was supposed to be a nice day, and instead, it got... blown up."
Jake chuckled, a low, melodic sound that seemed to vibrate in the quiet room. "Blown up? Yes. But, we go to the same school. I know where you live—maybe. We're going to see each other all the time. You really think I'm going to let one little 'blowing up' stop me from asking you out again?"
Rose turned her head back toward him, a playful spark returning to her eyes despite her fatigue. "Oh? You're that confident about getting more date opportunities, are you?"
Jake didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned in closer. He moved slowly, deliberately, until he was well within her personal space. Rose's breath hitched. From this distance, the world outside the hospital room ceased to exist. She could see the fine details of his face—the sharp, aristocratic line of his cheekbones, the way his jaw set with a quiet strength, and the prominent, elegant curve of his collarbones peeking out from the collar of his shirt. He was handsome, certainly, but there was a raw, magnetic energy to him that felt too primal.
"Was there ever any doubt?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble.
For a moment, Rose thought he might kiss her. The air between them felt charged, heavy with an unspoken tension that made her skin tingle. But just as quickly as he had leaned in, Jake pulled back, a flash of something—disappointment? hesitation?—crossing his features. Rose felt an unexpected pang of the same disappointment, a cold void opening where his warmth had been.
But that feeling was quickly replaced by a rush of heat to her cheeks when Jake reached out and took her hand in his. His grip was large, firm, and incredibly warm.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice sounding breathless even to her own ears.
"Comforting you," he replied simply, his thumb tracing a slow, rhythmic circle over the back of her hand. "Doctor's orders. Or at least, Jake's orders."
Silence reigned for a few seconds before Rose broke it, her mind drifting back to the reality of the situation. "What's going to happen to their cafe? It's gone, Jake. Everything they worked for."
Jake's expression turned somber. "The word on the street is that the fight was between the Teen Titans and that H.I.V.E. group. The city authorities usually have some kind of fund for this—compensation for collateral damage. They might get a payout to rebuild."
Rose scoffed, a bitter edge to her voice. "Yeah, right. Like a check from the city can bring back what was lost. Compensation is just a way for the suits to sleep better at night while people's lives are in pieces."
Jake's grip on her hand tightened. It wasn't painful, but it was firm—a silent anchor. "Maybe. But they're alive, Rose. That's the part that matters."
—-----------------
By evening, Rose was deemed medically alright and discharged. Both went to find Rebecca, Hudson and Julie in another room. The reunion was emotional; Rebecca hugged Jake tightly, sobbing out thanks for 'saving them.' Rose stood back, a humble smile on her face, shrugging off their gratitude as if she had merely held a door open.
Eventually, they made their way out onto the streets. They walked slowly, their hands interconnected. The cool evening air was a balm, but the silence between them was different now—heavier, filled with things Rose couldn't say. They reached an intersection where Rose stopped.
"I think I'll take a cab from here," she said. "I'm still a little shaky."
"Are you sure?" Jake asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
"I'm sure, Jake." She squeezed his hand one last time. Before she could overthink it, she stepped in and wrapped her arms around him in a sudden, tight hug. Jake stiffened in surprise for a fraction of a second before his arms came around her, holding her with a protective strength.
She pulled back just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.
Jake's face broke into a dazed, genuine smile. "Anytime, Rose."
He watched as she hailed a cab and pulled away. Jake didn't just walk away; he ducked into a nearby alley, watching from the shadows until he was certain she was safely on her way.
—----------------
Inside the cab, Rose slumped against the seat and covered her face with both hands. Her breaths were shallow and trembling. She knew what she had seen. In that terrifying moment of the explosion, when Jake had shielded her, she hadn't seen a boy. She had seen wings—great, powerful, translucent wings of crimson and gold.
She could have called it a hallucination, but years of Huntsclan training and intuition didn't just vanish. She had been raised to identify and eliminate the magical creatures that hid among humans. Her training told her Jake was a dragon. Her duty was clear: he was a target.
But how could she kill the person who had just saved her life? The boy who held her hand with such warmth? Rose's mind was a battlefield. She owed him a debt she couldn't ignore. In the end, she decided to observe. She wouldn't report it—not yet.
"Everything alright, miss?" the cab driver asked, seeing her distress in the mirror.
Rose let out a long, weary sigh. "I'm fine," she said weakly. "Just... just drive. I really need to sleep."
But as the city blurred past, Rose knew that after what she'd discovered, sleep would be a long time coming.