The Pain of Duality

Layla said her temporary good bye to her husband with a gentle kiss and an apology ready to go. Because while Marc would be better suited for understanding all of this, there were still to many unknowns, and God forbid JJ woke back up with Marc or Jake, she wanted to mitigate the risk of scaring them, hoping the warm environment and aid would help ease them into opening up. After all, she did not know enough to truly help them. Carrie spoke about her boys, meaning there was probably more than just JJ, more pain than she herself could ever understand. 

But Carrie requested only Layla, so she would obey, even if she just wanted to lay in bed with her husband and talk about everything, talk about what they needed to do, what they could do. She would call him later, for now she went into the air bnb they were renting for the past week and led Carrie to the bathroom so she could wash up. She left to grab a change of her own clothes and let her own mind wander a bit, getting list in the worry and panic. 

She signed up to help take down mythological monsters, to watch her husband and boyfriends back, to aid Jake in his battle laid forth by his God. She did not sign up for having to help a civilian in a more personal sense, let alone for for the strange instinct to hold JJ close, to comfort the child and care for this stranger. 

Layla had never been one to even give thought to the idea of being a mother, never wanted nor desired to bring a child up in this broken world, to pull an innocent kid into her way of life. Even if she stopped, demons from her past would always be a present threat. So why now? She had helped plenty of kids before, plenty of every demographic, actually. So what made Carrie and JJ so different? Why was she already getting all in her head about them? 

As she heard the water running, she dialed a familiar number, needing to speak with her partners just to process these emotions if nothing else. Maybe get her head on straight. Even if he only just left, it still felt like way to long. Not when everything in her very being was screaming at her to hold and protect. 

“Layla? Is everything ok?” Marc's gruff voice cracked through the speaker after barely their first ring.

“Yeah, no, I don't know. The kid is getting cleaned up, I'm going to try to get some of the blood out of their other clothes later once they get settled and I can check over their wounds and make sure they are set up. I just… I wanted to talk with you” 

“What's on your mind, then?” 

“Well… you know how when we uh.. when we got back together? When we talked about our life plans?” Layla started, pacing back and forth as she tried to lay out her thoughts in a way that make sense. “How we agreed absolutely no kids? Well…” 

“Oh my gosh your pregnant!” Steven shouted over the phone after a loud thud, probably dropping the phone. 

“God no, Steven. I don't want a kid. But… maybe I do? I'm not really sure. I don't understand why this is suddenly different, why I want to bundle them up and protect them from the world” Layla ran a hand through her hair, wincing as her fingers got angled in her curls. “I never wanted a kid, but… but part of me maybe does?” 

“Layla, love” 

“Yes Steven?” 

“You are familiar with Taweret, correct?” 

“Yes? She lives in my head rent free now… sorry Taweret” she quickly added, not wanting to offend the goddess. 

“Then you are familiar with her domain? The protector of women and children? The Goddess of fertility and childbirth?” Steven slowly offered, trying to reign back in his excitement. Layla didn't need a multi hour long lesson right now. 

A sudden dawning realization hit her, and she sunk down to sit on the edge of the sofa, head hung in her hands. “Taweret” she groaned, ignoring the light laughter that came over the phone. Her partners were not about to let this one drop, but at least there was a connection that made sense now. Something that helped guide the train wreck her thoughts were becoming. 

She didn't have long to process it, because soon the bathroom was opening up and she had to jump to action again. “Love you” she added before hanging up, heading over to Carrie, who was now wearing one of Layla's shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were tied tightly. “Hey, are you feeling better?” She offered as she pulled out the honestly ridiculously huge first aid kit. 

“Oh, I'm feeling just peachy, if a peach was thrown against a wall a few times, then ran over by an ute” Carrie leaned her head against the sink as she sat on the toilet, pulling up the pants to expose the infected knees and slowly healing hands for the older female. “Less congested after a hot shower, like I can breathe just a bit more deeply without choking” she added, trying to keep an eye on Layla as she started to pull out everything. “Exhausted to the bone” she tagged on, thinking for a moment about how she felt, and what should be shared versus not. 

Layla carefully cleaned her wounds, occasionally glancing up at the distant stare. It was especially concerning that Carrie did not even flinch with the burn she knew came from the antiseptic. Though, she supposed if they were also vigilantes that made more sense. She just hoped it wasn't JJ out fighting. Selfishly she hoped that it was Carrie, who at least acted older. Or another alter who was ideally at least 18. No kid should be out fighting crime on the streets. She knew it happened, but wished it wouldn't. Wished the kids could just grow up. “So…how old are you?” Layla slowly broke the silence, curiosity pushing her to ask, though the likelihood of a response was getting slimmer with each passing moment. 

“Hmm… twenty six, darl” Carrie mumbled, trying to focus back on Layla with a harsh swallow. “Sorry I am terrible company right bout now” 

“That's ok, I can imagine you aren't feeling to hot. These look pretty infected and I imagine you had an exhausting day” Layla offered as she wrapped the next layer around Carrie's knees. The faint accent enough to tell her it was at least still Carrie. She would have to try to keep some notes going, a way to figure out her different kids. 

Wait

Hold up

Not her kids, Taweret be damned. She shook her head, dismissing the thoughts as she moved to her hands. They at least weren't too bad off. Scraped to all hell and slightly red, on their way to a rough infection surley, but with some intervention they should be fine. “Alright, all patched up. Let's get some food in you so you can take some meds before heading off” Layla got up and offered a hand, which Carrie took. But when the other woman swayed on her feet, Layla just opted to hook her arm over her shoulders and help carry her. Carrie was light, too light, she could probably carry her fully. But she also did not want to make her feel infantilised. Especially since she was not exactly sure how old the body itself was. She would guess somewhere in the range of 20, give or take a year or two on either side. 

Regardless. For now she would help unless Carrie asked for more. A fine line to build trust. 

She set Carrie down at the table and got to work, heating up some soup for her to get down as well as some water for tea. She wished they had more to offer right now, but being in a rented space and on a mission meant they only had basics. Nothing complicated. Thankfully, Steven insisted his tea was a necessity, as well as the honey for in it. Though, she stirred in an amount that her boyfriend would probably gag over. 

Once everything was done, she sat down with Carrie and offered up the bowl and mug, keeping a bowl for herself, though she wasn't sure how much she would be able to get down, not with the worry that flooded her system over Carrie and JJ. 

“Here, let me help” Layla offered once she noticed how much Carries hands were shaking, reaching forward to help her get a few good spoonfuls in her. 

Carrie couldn't help the small smile that formed on her face, watching Layla fret over them in a way she herself was quite familiar with doing in their head space. She took the bites offered, letting the warmth ease her body before speaking again. “Feeling clucky over there?” She knew her words slurred slightly, exhaustion making it hard to form words with her mouth, but at least for now she wasn't alone, and her boys would be in good hands come morning. She just hoped Tim wouldn't freak out to much, hoped that Red would stay back for now. The other two she does not worry nearly as much about. Maybe it would do JJ some good to front with Layla. He seemed pretty attached, not that that was anything new. The kid was always desperately clinging to scraps of attachment, for better or worse. She suspected it was in part because of the whole brainwashing. She may not have access to the details, but knew enough to understand that the Joker was trying to brainwash him into being his kid. Brainwash him into hurting, no killing, Batman. She feared for the parts JJ did not divulge with ease. The memories that made him lock up and throw away the key. 

She wished she could have protected him too, but understands why she could not. 

“Let's get you to bed” Layla offered before offering a hand to help guide the teen to the bedroom. She herself would crash on the pullout in the living room, giving Carrie privacy while remaining vigilant. She helped set up the pain meds, antibiotics, a glass of water, and a bottle of Gatorade while Carrie wrote a note to leave with it. Handwriting smooth and loopy, even with how out of it the medicine and fever were making her feel. 

Layla tucked her in before leaving to go try and sleep herself, maybe have a conversation with her Goddess about all this. But for now, the night was calm, and for once Carrie could sleep easy. Humidifier going and propped up to help with the congested lungs. 

___

In the morning, Layla woke up with the early rays of sun shining directly into her eyes. With a groan, she got up. After all, she had some things to take care of. After cleaning up the couch so it was back to a sofa than a pull out, she popped on some music from her childhood and got to work. She meticulously wiped every surface, a clean environment would be better for the other while recuperating. 

Once done, she started up some coffee for herself, and tea for her… companion? Fellow vigilante? Deeply traumatized kid she wanted to bundle up and hide away from everything that could ever hurt them? 

Shit, she really needed to get off that train of thought. 

A light thump was the only warning she got before the coffee was pulled from her hands. She looked back, jumping slightly before relaxing. It was just the kid, bleary eyed and unfocused. “Good morning” she offered, but was ignored as they stumbled over to the couch and all but collapsed after chugging her coffee. Reasonably not Carrie or JJ. 

“Thank you again for helping out. Renting that room is a huge help” she tried to remember what Carrie asked them to do, what to lie about. She watched as they blinked slowly before wincing away with a groan. 

Ah, the lights. She moved to turn off the overhead lights and close the window curtains before sitting in the arm chair, observing from a distance. They seemed out of it, but she supposed that made sense if they were sick. And Carrie did say she was worried about them developing meningitis? That probably was not helping, and she hoped with the antibiotics and treatment they could prevent that. 

She turned on the tv, keeping it quiet but enough to fill the void. And it stayed like that for awhile, before slowly the other came back around. A small gasp, a cough, a groan. 

“Ow” they groaned, shaky hands moving up to press against the side of their head, pressing the otherside into the couch before slowly looking around. Their eyes still a bit unfocused and glossy, but at least better than they were. 

“Good morning, I didn't want to wake you from your nap. There's tea and coffee in the kitchen and some eggs left if you're up to eating” Layla started, practicing caution as she watched how closed off they were, tense jaw, hiked up shoulders. 

“Who are you?” Their voice was harsh in the quiet room. 

“Layla ElFaouly, sorry your fever must be messing with you. Let's start over. My name is Layla, and you are renting my spare room to help me make rent. You know how the economy is now a days” Layla offered, hoping they bought it. Hoping her lies weren't caught. It was nerve wracking, but not nearly the worst she has done. 

“Right… start over” they mumbled, scrunched their face up then held out their hand. “Nice to meet you Layla. My name is Tim, thank you for opening your house to me” Tim let his hand fall back to his side on the couch, already struggling to keep up. “Um… sorry I don't really remember our arrangement” Tim offered, forcing back open his eyes as he tried to remember anything really. 

“Oh, well thats ok. If you would like to get out of the arrangement we can renegotiate, but I think it is best to wait until you are feeling a bit better. Plus, I could use the company until my partner is done their… business” 

A pause before Tim melted in defeat, or maybe it was just exhaustion. “Fine” he grumbled, but soon words were replaced by soft snores and Layla could rest easy again. 

___

Layla was able to add to her to her list over the next three days. Small observations. Like how Tim was the one fronting the most, but was also garbage at taking care of himself. He often opted for just coffee or tea over a meal, often pushed himself when he should be resting, and still managed to do yoga twice daily despite the raising fever. 

She got Carrie briefly, usually around meal times where she would eat plentifully and easily held a conversation, taking care of her boys was making a lot more sense. 

She got JJ briefly, usually during the night when they would wake up shaking, tears streaming down their face before climbing in bed with her. She would rock him until he fell asleep before returning him to his actual bed to prevent any freak outs in the morning. 

It was… odd, but nice in a way. Like she was getting to know them more. Three days of only talking to her partners over the phone. Three days of sitting out the mission. Three days until the pattern changed. 

___

Tim felt fuzzy all morning, his body carrying him through the motions while his mind wondered far away. He hardly registered the burn of the mint toothpaste or the pain as he accidentally rammed his hip into the counter. 

“Good morning, Tim” a vaguely familiar feminine voice drifted into his brain. 

He blinked and slowly forced his slow eyes over to the person addressing him. He was Tim, wasn't he? 

“Here, let's get your coffee” 

Coffee, he liked the bitter bold flavor, but why did he need it? For once he didn't have a mission, he didn't have a job… right? Oh, maybe it was a school day. His senior year. But he dropped out of Gotham prep long ago, didn't he? 

A warm mug was pressed into his hands, and on muscle memory he brought it to his lips, closing his eyes as he took in the unfamiliar flavor. Not his coffee, he wasn't home though so that made sense. What was he doing again? 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Mmm” Tim wasn't sure if the noise came from him, or if it drifted in from another. What was he doing again? Oh, right, coffee. The mug was still in his hands. Were they his hands? It didn't feel like it. 

“Right, do you think we could get some food into you tifl?” 

Tim maybe made another noise, he wasn't quite sure. The lady he was with seemed to hear something though that spurred her to go into the kitchen. Wait, how did he know there was a kitchen beyond that wall? Where was he again? This wasn't anywhere overly familiar. He should be feeling more… Something? But all he could muster was a numb cloud that pickled through his body. 

He drifted, or maybe he walked, to the couch. Allowing his aching joints and throbbing head to take a moment of rest. 

___

Today was different, a break in the pattern. The morning Layla saw Tim as usual, got him his non caffeinated coffee that she had bought because surely the caffeine was not good for someone healing up. Then he laid down for his usual nap. When he got up, she was prepared to help clean the healing wounds and rebandage them, but instead it wasnt Tim who got up. Someone else was fronting, someone she did not know or recognize. A stranger. It was as off putting as the way they just… stared at her. Lips drawn shut. Stock still, like they were playing a game of statue. 

“Tifl?” Layla asked, crouching down in front of them. Their eyes were clear, tracking her movement. Probably not dissociated, so what was going on? “How are you feeling?” She tried again. 

They looked around briefly before looking back at her hands. Less intimate that way. But no other response. She watched them start to pick at a thread on the shirt she lent them before quickly smoothing their hands across their lap and resuming the silence. Practiced, calm, too quiet, too still. 

“Do you mind if I take a look at your hands and knees?” Layla tried next, not for the first time wishing her partners were there. Maybe she could ease them in? All this was so complicated. 

Whoever it was hesitated, tucking their limbs back before offering them. Practiced obedience, even if they did not want to. It made something uncomfortable twist up in Layla. “I'm just going to clean them and change these bandages. Do you mind if my partner comes around later?” She watched as they opened their mouth, quickly snapped it shut again, and shook their head. “Thank you” she offered as she gently took their hands and started the process. 

As she worked, she noticed they kept staring at her hands, more accurately her gently painted nails. It gave her an idea. “Do you like my nails?” She cautiously asked, and after a beat the slow, tentative nod encouraged her to go on. “Would you like me to paint your nails? I don't have a lot of options on me, but I would love the honor” cautious praise. Given the rising want to help and protect, she was going to assume this was another younger alter, but oh so very different from JJ. 

This time she got a much quicker nod and even a forming smile before they quickly went back into a neutral expression. “Ok, I will go get my stuff, you stay right here” on her way to grab her makeup bag, she sent a text to the group chat she made with her partners and Jake, asking them to come over because she was in over her head. Because she was constantly walking on egg shells and being a single parent was exhausting. 

Wait

No

Not a parent. Just a good samaritan helping someone from succumbing to what shouldn't be that bad of an infection. 

Jake was the one who responded, saying that Steven would be over shortly. She allowed herself a moment to relax before heading back down. She almost hoped that they would have moved, but instead they sat there, stock still minus the minute shaking. Full body trembles over the hands that it was before. She moved in slow, calculated movements until she was in front of them, slowly taking their hands in hers and giving a squeeze. 

“Did you change your mind? We don't have to” 

“No!” They instantly froze up again, staring at her like a deer in headlights. Fear, she realized. They were afraid. 

___

Timmy didn't know what happened, but he was here now. Sitting perfectly still like father's favorite game. His body hurt, pain radiating from every movement. So for once the game was beneficial. Except… except he was alone, and he was never alone. He was always surrounded by tall grownups who talked down to him but never expected him to respond, lest he be disrespectful. 

So, the statue game. Even if the room was freezing, he was alone, and everything hurt. Looking around was out of the question, it was rude to pry… but maybe whoever was graciously hosting them had something he could do? Maybe they had kids he could quietly play with? It was a rare occurrence, but not unheard of. 

Then someone came in. He expected them to talk around him like normal. Their words a meaningless back wash that he was not meant to listen to or understand. But it was hard when they were the only ones there, and she was crouching in front of them. 

He accidentally made eye contact, that was rude. He wouldn't want the adults thinking he was on a level playing field, so he quickly looked away. An action that usually meant he would get a gentle shoulder squeeze of approval from his mother, or a tight smile from his father while they explained how “their little Timmy was just shy”. But they weren't around right now, where were they? Why was he alone with this stranger? Why did everything hurt? What was he supposed to do? What was expected of him right now? 

He wanted to cry, to find his parents, to hide behind their legs and away from prying eyes. But he couldn't. They abandoned him here, didn't they? Just like when he made a scene at the supermarket without knowing and mother got angry and left him there. Or maybe he just got lost. Did he wander away? Sometimes he got distracted by the other kids, or pretty colors. He couldn't though. Statues did not get distracted, they listened and obeyed. Maybe this was his new nanny? Sometimes mother and father would leave him with his nanny, but he didn't recognize this one. 

Listen and obey. Such a well behaved little thing. They offered up their hands when asked, trying to hold back the shivers. But it was so cold in here. Maybe if he was good he could get his fluffy blanket tonight and they would let him curl up in the closet? He always felt safe there. Nice and tight, hidden away with a door to muffle any yelling. 

They nodded silently to anything that sounded like a question, usually adults liked when they were obedient like that. Always happy and saying yes. Well, not saying, because making noise was bad and would embarrass mother and father. He didn't quite understand what that word meant, but it sounded bad. 

And bad kids had to play the statue game, even when at home. Even while their parents were packing around them, even when they were being left behind. 

He hated the statue game, it made his tummy hurt. 

Oh! The new nanny had really pretty nails! They were deep red with shiny gold! Mother wore lots of gold! He even recognized the little symbol on them from something that sat in their living room. He wanted to ask about it, to learn about what it meant. But statues couldn't ask questions, so instead it had to buzz around in his head, threatening to burst between his lips if he wasn't biting them closed. 

“Do you like my nails?” The nanny asked and he nodded quickly. Because they were so pretty and he wanted to be pretty! But he wasn't allowed to be pretty. He remembered one night when he got into mother's makeup and got yelled at so much it made his brain hurt and the world get all fuzzy until it stopped and he was in his room again suddenly, like magic! Oh he wondered if this new nanny knew magic! He already hurt a lot like that night, so maybe he would telephoto again? 

The nanny said all whole lot of other words, and he knew he wasn't supposed to listen to the adults conversations, but it sounded like it was directed at him, asking if she could do something so he nodded again. Excited that he could finally move. Even if moving made the world spin like he was in the car and hurt him. It meant maybe he could do something.

 He quickly tampered the excitement. He was being too big, too loud, he was supposed to be small and quiet. Like a little mouse. Oh maybe he could be a little mouse instead of a statue! 

But he must have done something bad because she was leaving again instead of taking care of his ouchies. Was he too loud? Too big? Show too much emotion? He knew better! He could do better! He could be the bestest statue! Even if his whole body was shaking now, he tried to stay still, tried to hold back the shaking, tried to push past the tightness wrapping around his lungs like a big ugly snake! But he was alone now, and mother and father would have to come back soon, then they will be upset that he ruined everything again. He squeezed his eyes closed really tight to try to keep all his tears inside. His parents hated it when he cried, even if he seemed to cry a lot before he was awake. 

He was going to try really really hard and maybe the nice nanny would come back? He could be the bestest silent little statue and she could have her big friends over and they wouldn't even notice he was there, even when they only had the yucky water that made his tummy hurt and hurt him. He knew better now, he could last the night without water even if his mouthwash as really really dry. 

And it must have worked, because she came back! The nice nanny was slowly walking over, like she was scared he would move but he was really good at this game now. He had lots of practice. She was talking to him like he was an adult and not a statue again, it made his tummy feel all fluttery, and her hands were so so warm in his, but then she was threatening to take them away and he couldn't help the bubble that burst from his mouth before panic filled him, because he wasn't supposed to make a noise. Statues didn't talk, and shadows stayed near their parents without making so much as a loud breath. And what if she was mean now? What if she did leave? What if she decided to leave and no one came back and he was just all alone. He couldn't make pancakes alone! 

But the nice nanny didn't leave, instead she gave his hands a gentle squeeze and sat down on the floor, below him, like she meant to stay for a long time. 

“Hey, tifl. Can you look at me?” 

He must have misunderstood, he did that a lot. Because he wasn't supposed to understand what adults said, but she was forcing her eyes to meet his. It made him want to squirm, to hide, to shake until the bad feeling was gone. But it was rude to disobey, so he forced his eyes to stay on hers. 

“Deeeep breath please” 

He tried to obey, but when he breathed in any deeper it felt like the mean snake was back and he started to cough. The nice nanny rubbed his back and that made it feel better at least. Then she pulled out lots of pretty colors while he tried to remember how to breathe. 

“So, what colors were you thinking?” 

He knew he wasn't supposed to listen, supposed to look her in the eyes, but the colors were so pretty and he wanted to be pretty. Oh! Maybe she would let him get all the pretty colors on! And maybe a twirly princess dress if he asked reeeaaallly really nice. 

But 

But he couldn't ask, and he shouldn't move, and only good children got those things and he wasn't. He bit his lips closed again, trying to ignore the pain his teeth caused, but it was really hard to pull his eyes away from the fun colors and back to the painful eyes. 

“How about… this pink?” The nice nanny offered, picking up one of the few bottles as she held his hand again, glancing up before slowly untwisting the bottle and bringing the pretty color to his nails, just like hers! He couldn't help but to wiggle on his seat, a wide smile filling his face as he watched her paint his nails. He must have been really good at the statue game to get a reward, even if he didn't think so. Adults always new better. 

__

Steven made his way back to the rented space after picking up some flowers for his girlfriend and some basic snacks for the three of them. He wasn't sure what he would be walking in on, only that Jake was willing to stop the chase, to defy Khonshu, so it must be pretty bad. He knocked before opening, prepared for a fight, for screaming, for pain. Instead soft giggles filled the room and he quickly spotted Layla sitting on the ground with their guest, makeup spread around them as she tried to get some on them but they wouldn't sit still. 

He took a minute to let the adrenaline ride through his system before he headed in, joining them. “Hello, love” he held out their flowers and watched the kid pause, frozen for a moment before reaching forward and gently touching one of them before looking up at him with a wide smile. 

“Good morning, Steven. Don't you think they're so pretty?” so no name, maybe no pronouns. That complicated things a bit. 

“Very pretty, very cheeky” Steven couldn't help but smile as they wiggled and shook out their hands. “I dare say, prettier than you even” he glanced between them and Layla, teasing lightly. 

“Oh shoosh you, but I agree fully” Layla laughed lightly, playfully smacking his arm. “Go put those in a vase, Steven. We will get cleaned up in here” she leaned up, giving his cheek a peck before turning back to the kid. Layla took note that they were being still again, but at least with a smile on his face. Small steps. “What do you say, tifl? Can you help me clean up?”. With a small nod, they got up and started nicely organizing her products before meticulously packing them away for her. 

Timmy obeyed easily, but his head hurt with all the bright lights, and his tummy was starting to feel really icky. But he needed to clean up after playing, he should just be happy he could look really really pretty for a little. Even if he would have to wash it off until has face stung before father saw. He glanced back at his new nanny, she didn't look annoyed, so he took his time at least. Pushing his luck to try and let it last longer. He organized them out by the prettiest colors before hiding them away. Maybe if he was really good again he could see them again. 

While the kid cleaned, Layla moved up to go speak with Steven. They had a lot to figure out still. Especially as the week was coming to an end and they had lives to get back to. Lives that shouldn't include kidnapping… right? It was insane, but she couldn't leave them alone. Not when they were struggling so much. Not when she and her partners had a better understanding then most others. 

“Steven” Layla offered, giving him a small kiss before squeezing his hands. “Would it… would it be insane if we took them with us?” 

“Layla, love. I know you are getting attached. They need some proper support, do you think we can offer that? A stable environment? Years of therapy?” 

“Well… no, but we should help any way we can. Is it so bad to want to offer that?” 

“A real pickle, innit” Steven gave her hands a squeeze back. “How bout, we all get some lunch and take it from there?” 

They both looked up as the teen entered the doorway, knocking softly. Steven went to walk over to him, to ask how he was feeling, but his answer came quicker when they suddenly vomited. He barely dodged it, gagging himself before quickly switching out with Marc. The last thing they needed was both of them puking. 

“Really?” Marc grumbled before going over, stepping over the vomit and lifting the teen away from it. “Come here” 

“ ‘m sorry” they mumbled, nearly collapsing against Marc as he lifted them up, pressing their face against him. 

“Shit, their burning up” Marc looked up at Layla, holding the teen before they vomited again. He rubbed their back while Layla got some water for them, as well as a trash bag in case they had more in them. “Some ice packs burning up or ER burning up?” 

The teen tensed in his grip, mumbling something he couldn't quite make out before promptly passing out. “ER. Get the car and grab some clothes for him, I will carry him out” 

Layla nodded and hurried off, happy to have the steady head of her husband, to not be handling this alone. They could han could handle his lack of insurance later. The whole reason Carrie asked them for help. Right now it didn't matter, it only mattered that they were getting help. They could pay out of pocket if need be.