Batman: Lost to the Night, Chapter 12: Between Darkness and Light (Part 2)
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In his room, Bruce flung himself down on the bed still seething as he mentally replayed what Dick had said to him. How dared he? Gotham came first. It always took precedence. How could Dick have even considered that Bruce would accept anything less?
And if he did go out tonight at your insistence, and something did happen?
Bruce tried to squelch that thought. There was always a certain amount of risk involved in what they did. Dick would be fine, like he always was.
And if he wasn’t? If Joker shot him tonight? Or if a building exploded and he found himself lying in an alley with a broken leg? Or in a coma… or worse?
Bruce bit his lip. If something like that had happened… he’d never forgive himself, no matter how much anybody tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault.
He rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. Someone had fluffed it, he realized with a pang. They’d done everything they could to make him feel at home. And at the first opportunity, he repaid them… how? His hands were sweating. This weekend was a mistake. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready yet. All he was doing was making everyone around him miserable. They didn’t deserve that. He shouldn’t be disrupting their lives. No, his mind was made up. Tomorrow morning, he’d ask Dick to drive him back to Arkham. That was probably the best solution. He could try this experiment again in a month or two when he was better equipped to deal with it…
Bruce didn’t remember having closed his eyes, but when they inched open again, the sky was significantly darker than it had been when he had stormed in here. It was probably after midnight. The others were likely still awake, he realized, but he didn’t feel up to facing them at the moment. He couldn’t fall back asleep, though.
In the end, it was Helena’s wailing that got him off the bed, and sprinting to open the bedroom door. The light from the hallway stabbed his eyes when he did, and he closed them reflexively.
A moment later, when they had adjusted, he made his way back toward the living room.
The cries broke off abruptly as Bruce entered. Jim was just settling down on the sofa with the baby on his lap. She was sucking contentedly on a bottle of juice. Jim smiled down at her.
The smile remained as he looked at Bruce. “I was just about to get another piece of that pie when she woke up,” he said. “Do you want to join me?”
Bruce started to demur.
Gordon stopped him. “You missed out on it earlier,” he added, making it sound like a criminal offense. At Bruce’s reluctant nod, he smiled. “Good choice.”
“Where is everybody?” Bruce asked.
“Well,” Gordon said, “Barbara’s out monitoring the Titans-I understand she’s got an office not far from here. Cassandra left after supper. I imagine she’s doing whatever she normally does with her nights.” He chuckled. “For the life of me, I can’t remember whether I’m supposed to know the specifics, yet. Dick said to tell you that he wouldn’t mind some company if you wanted to join him out on the balcony.”
Bruce sat down. “Maybe after.” Gordon was here awfully late. “Are you living here now?”
Gordon shook his head. “No, no. Either one of the kids will give me a lift back later, or I’ll drive home myself when it’s light out.” He laughed. “Too many late nights got to be habit-forming after awhile, I suppose.”
Bruce nodded. He understood that. In fact, that might work out rather well… “If you head out in the morning,” he asked, “would you mind giving me a lift back to Arkham on your way?”
The older man’s eyebrows drew together. “Any reason for wanting to cut this short?” He handed Helena to him. “I’m going to get that pie.”
Bruce took the baby gently. “After what happened tonight…” he began to say.
“Just what did happen tonight, Bruce?” Jim strode to the ’fridge to retrieve the dessert. “You two had a disagreement, but nothing so bad that the pair of you aren’t on speaking terms.”
“I’m reverting to type,” Bruce tried to explain. “As soon as things don’t fall into place the way I expect, I’m back to barking orders.” He rocked the baby absently. “Maybe in a month, things will be-”
Gordon’s exclamation was both pointed and unprintable. “I thought the reason behind this weekend was to ease the transition process when you pass that hearing,” he snapped. “Were you really expecting it to go without a hitch?” He paused. “You were, weren’t you?”
He popped the foil pie plate in the oven. “How many other skills did you nail on the first try?” He demanded. “Why in the name of all that’s blasted holy would you think this would be any different?”
Bruce had no answer. Abashed, he looked down at a pair of wide blue eyes. The bottle dropped and slid to his lap. A hand shot up, reaching toward his nose. “Cut that out,” he protested, stifling a laugh and lifting his head. Undaunted, the baby patted his cheek.
Gordon chuckled. “Looks like I’m not the only one who feels like slapping you sometimes,” he said. “Listen, Bruce, things are going to look better in the morning if they don’t already. Have the pie. Then get some sleep. Nobody here wants you back in Arkham, including you.” As Bruce started to interrupt, Gordon plowed on. “If you really wanted to go back early, you wouldn’t be trying to get a ride from me. All you need to do is open the front door and take the elevator down to street level. You’d be back in your cell so fast you’d think you used one of those… those… those Thanagarian boom tube whatchamacallums.”
Bruce conceded the point. “Still… my being here does present a certain amount of friction,” he said.
“So does mine,” Jim shot back. “Parents tend to have that effect.” He sighed. “Dick’s on the balcony,” he reminded him. “Why don’t you ask him what he thinks about your presence here?”
He moved to take the baby. Bruce surrendered her reluctantly. “The pie will keep,” he said. “Go on.”
Bruce rose to his feet. He knew that Jim was right about Dick. More than that, he knew that he’d been out of line earlier, and he wanted Dick to know it too.
He got as far as the balcony door before he froze, his hand on the knob. Someone else was out there, too.
“Almost feels like I never left,” Tim said. “Except that Harrier doesn’t have any name recognition to trade on in these parts.”
Dick grinned. “Give it time.”
The cowled figure shook his head. “Midterms start up in a couple of weeks. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back here until May, when I’m done with the semester.” He sighed. “It’s not high school anymore. I can’t coast the way I used to.” He paused a moment before he added, “and I’m pulling a C-plus in criminology.”
Dick gaped at him. “How is that even possible?”
“You tell me.” His disgust was palpable. “The prof wants everything done his way and woe betide you if you deviate…”
“And that mindset is something new to you?”
Tim didn’t return the smile. “His way happens to be wrong. Or incomplete. We had a quiz last week-that’s actually one plus to this course: not everything hangs on the final exam. I knew every single answer. Except that more than twenty per cent of what I wrote wasn’t in the textbook. So he marked me down.”
Dick let out a low whistle. “Yikes.”
“Tell me about it.” He pushed back the cowl. In the moonlight, his face concealed by nothing more than a domino mask, he suddenly seemed more like the boy Dick had met over five years earlier, and less like the adult he’d since become. “I wish I had Barbara’s photographic memory. Between my other classes and the Titans, I haven’t got time for the text.” He sighed. “Sorry. Just venting. I mean, a C-plus in criminology?” He grimaced. “And it doesn’t help that it’s a five-credit course. A C-plus there is almost like getting two C-plusses, as far as my GPA is concerned.”
“Uh-huh.”
The younger man sighed. “By the way,” he said, brightening, “thanks for the vote of confidence with the Titans. Vic said you told him you knew I was up to the challenge.”
Dick placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “That shouldn’t be news to you. It’s not like you haven’t been leading in the field before this.”
“I know. But given the way I blasted Bruce before I left Gotham… I wasn’t sure if you’d trust me to keep my head on straight under pressure.”
“Because of what you said to him?” Dick asked. “You didn’t rack up any brownie points with me, true. But if losing your temper with Bruce disqualified you for leadership, I wouldn’t have been running the Titans in my day.” He grinned. After a moment, Tim returned the smile.
“Thought they squeezed you out after awhile.”
Dick gave him a cuff on the ear. “Smartass.”
Tim chuckled briefly, then sobered. “How did it go tonight?”
“On the whole?” Dick asked. “Pretty well. Did you want to come in? I can see if he’s still up.”
Tim appeared to be thinking it over. “Maybe next time,” he said finally.
“Tim…”
“I don’t hate him, okay?” The youth snapped. “But everything’s mixed up. Like if I try to pretend the past didn’t happen, am I… being disloyal to Steph’s memory? And no… I don’t honestly believe that. Part of me wants to forgive him. Maybe I already have, I don’t know. But right now… right now, from what you’ve been saying, he’s going to need our support. And the way things are, I don’t know if I’m the best person to call on for that.”
He ran a gloved hand through his hair. “I… tell Bruce I said ‘Hi’. And tell him I’m glad he’s doing better. And that I’ll try to write to him when I’ve got more of a handle on my study time. And…” He pulled up his hood, concealing his face in shadow once more, “nothing,” he finished. “I’ll tell him the rest myself one of these days.”
Dick seemed about to protest. But all he said was, “Take care of yourself, little bro’.”
As the younger man swung out of sight, Dick relaxed his posture. Without turning around, he said, “I’m actually kind of glad you heard that.”
“You knew I was there,” Bruce stated.
Dick allowed a faint hint of smugness to creep into his voice. “Naturally.” He turned to face the older man. “It’s a beautiful night. Did you want to sit out here for a bit?” In the illumination provided by the floodlight above him, his breath was visible in the cold air. “I can wait while you grab your jacket,” he added.
Bruce shook his head. “Not this time.” He gestured in the direction that Tim had gone. “He’s growing up.”
“Yep. He calls himself ‘The Harrier’, these days. San Francisco’s getting to be famous for him.” He sighed. “If you recall, you and I went through about a year and a half when we weren’t on speaking terms. We patched things up. You and Tim will too.”
The older man looked away, unwilling to concede the point. “Let’s go inside.”
A few minutes later, three generations of crime-fighters were seated around the kitchen table, mugs of herbal tea and plates of pie and ice cream before them.
“About earlier,” Bruce ventured.
Dick grinned. “Yeah, that chicken was great.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Bruce shook his head, “but…” He looked away. “I should have appreciated what you were attempting to do earlier.”
Dick cut another piece of pie. “No worries.” He paused. “Um… that was just an expression.”
“I know.” Bruce added another spoon of softening ice cream, and watched as white rivulets pooled slowly on the still-warm pie. “I’m…” He drew a deep breath. “You were right. I was wrong.”
Dick’s jaw dropped. Even Jim looked stunned. “Bruce, I…” To cover his stupefaction, the younger man quickly popped a morsel of pie into his mouth. By the time he’d swallowed it, he had recovered enough to say, “I guess it had to happen sooner or later.” He paused. “Thanks.”
Bruce relaxed visibly. He downed a sip of tea. “I’ve been out of the loop,” he said, “but even in my… situation, word reached me about Batman’s activities. You have a handle on things, and it isn’t my place to second-guess you. Not now.”
“Yeah, well,” Dick placed a hand on Bruce’s forearm. “I’m still doing things mostly the way you did. The only major changes I’ve implemented have more to do with stress management…”
Unnoticed, Gordon got up, slipped on his coat, and went out to the balcony. He spared a smile for the baby, now sleeping in the playpen. In Gordon’s estimation, at times like these, it was best to withdraw. After all, there were some specifics about their crime-fighting activities that he still didn’t think he needed to know.
Selina came back an hour later. She left with Helena in tow, promising to see Bruce again the next time. Barbara returned shortly afterwards, stopping in the kitchen to put on a fresh pot of coffee before driving her father home. She loved the freedom of having her customized van. It came in handy every so often.
The two men were so deep in conversation that they barely noticed. Bruce had been half-expecting, and half-dreading that Dick was about to bring up every missed school event, every cold shoulder, every blow that Bruce had inflicted on the younger man’s ego-wittingly or otherwise. Once again, Dick had surprised him.
“I think I’ve pretty much gotten that bit sorted out,” he said. “I mean, if there’s anything you want to discuss, that’s fine… but, I guess while I was taking charge of Gotham, and of,” he flushed, “of your medical interests, and so on, I kind of accepted some responsibility for my own messes, instead of chalking them up to you.” He smiled ruefully. “Truth be told, I was in a big one, right before you got arrested.”
Bruce nodded. “I know about Blockbuster.” He hadn’t known how to broach the subject at the time. He still wasn’t sure that this was the best way. Once said, however, those four words could not be unsaid.
Dick bit his lip, and studied the surface of the table for a moment. When he looked up again, his eyes were clear. “I wondered about that,” he admitted. “I wish I’d known then. It might have made things easier.” He sighed. “Or not. I guess there’s really no way to be sure. I’m sorry I let you down, though.”
Bruce shook his head. “You never did.” He held up his hand. “Hear me out. I wasn’t there. I don’t know the details. They aren’t important. I do know you. And I know that you would have to have been at your breaking point to act as you did.” His eyes sought Dick’s and held them with a blinding intensity. “Everything that you’ve done since then-tells me that what happened with Desmond was an aberration.” He shook his head again. “There are a few people who can fall into an abyss… and climb out again. I’ve never dared to find out whether I was one of them.” He sighed. “And I wish I could have spared you that self-knowledge.”
Dick absorbed that. He nodded faintly. “Thanks. I… worked things out on my own. Had to. I didn’t know when you’d be in a position to forgive me, but somewhere along the line, I forgave myself.” Not everybody got the chance to face his demons a second time. Not everybody vanquished those demons. One night, on a staircase in a warehouse, Dick had. “I haven’t forgotten,” he hastened to add. “I never will. But I’ve moved on from that point.”
Bruce squeezed his shoulder. “Good,” he said firmly. He drew a deep breath. Whether Dick still needed to hear it or not, Bruce still felt that there was something he had to say. “I want you to know,” he said, “that at no time, regardless of anything I might have said or given you reason to think in the past, did you ever fail me. If there was ever a person you let down, it was yourself.” He allowed himself a wistful smile. “While I, on the other hand…”
The ‘Grayson grin’ was suddenly back in full force. “Pot. Kettle. Give yourself a break. What? I’m the only one around here who’s allowed to mess up?” He shook his head. “You can find a million reasons to let me off the hook-even if I don’t need them anymore-and it’s still appreciated, don’t misunderstand. Can you tell me why it is, though, that you can’t let yourself find even one reason to cut yourself a little slack?”
Bruce leaned forward. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Why not?”
…
The lavender hues of sunrise were shifting more toward pink when Bruce finally headed back to his room. It felt as though he and Dick had cleared enough air between them to eliminate the city’s smog problems. They hadn’t resolved everything, true, and likely never would, but it was a start. A strong one.
“Did you ever get around to answering his question?” Alex asked. The doctor’s hands were steepled before him, fingertips extended toward Bruce.
Bruce shook his head. “There was no answer that I could give that he would accept.” He met Alex’s gaze directly. “That’s the crux of the matter. Isn’t it?”
Alex waited. After a moment, Bruce dropped his eyes again.
“He doesn’t understand. Commanders bear responsibility not just for their own actions but for those of the people under their command. They are always… always held to a more exacting standard.”
Alex nodded, but he was frowning as though he didn’t quite comprehend.
Bruce continued. “Batman is a vigilante. He reports to nobody.” Jim came close sometimes. Or… Alfred. Bruce squelched the thought. “I set protocols,” he winced at the word, “not just for those who join me, but for myself as well. If I don’t have ground rules, the risk of… of falling into the abyss is too great. But I, more than the others, have to abide by those standards. If I were to bend them once, there would be a temptation to bend them again in the future. Better not to take that step.”
Alex’s frown deepened. “I’m puzzled,” he admitted. “In our past sessions, you’ve mentioned that you regret that your son seems to hold himself to those same standards. And yet, he’s been leading one team or another since he was thirteen. Why shouldn’t he be so exacting?”
“That’s not the same thing.” Bruce shifted position.
“Okay…” Alex said dubiously. “But I’m a little foggy on where the distinction lies.”
“Because that’s not who he is,” Bruce said finally.
“He’s not a leader?”
Bruce shook his head. “He’s not… aloof.”
“I’ve seen that,” Alex smiled. “But a good leader has to be aloof, right?”
Bruce froze.
“I’m sorry,” Alex said instantly. “I’m just trying to understand. If holding yourself to a higher standard is the price of command, and yet someone whose leadership skills you admire… either doesn’t conform or shouldn’t conform… which one was it, again?”
“He isn’t me!” Bruce snapped. He drew his breath in sharply. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Why should he have to make the same mistakes I have?”
For a moment, there was silence. Then, his voice almost as low as Bruce’s had been, Alex asked, “Why should you have to continue to make them?”
The next weeks passed swiftly. Bruce continued to work with Alex, but the sessions were no longer relaxing. Despite-or perhaps because of-their intensity, Bruce sensed that the counseling was helping him and he forced himself to continue. As painful as this self-examination was, understanding its purpose made the exercise bearable.
As the weekend passes became part of his routine, Bruce found himself rehashing with Dick the topics that came up in therapy. He also brought up points that Alex had yet to raise. With Dick, he was able to skip a lot of background detail, and go directly to the heart of the matter. He also found it less painful subsequently, when the same subject came up with Alex.
The lessons in the kitchen continued. One week, Barbara showed him how to prepare a soup. Another week, it was a salad. But no weekend visit passed without Barbara serving some dish that he had helped to create. The results weren’t always perfect, but so far, nothing had been an unmitigated disaster.
“Do you know the difference between ‘company’ and ‘family’?” Barbara asked him once, when tried to forgo the weekly recipe. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “Family pitches in. So peel and dice those potatoes and pitch them in to that pot on the stove once the water boils.”
Bruce sighed.
“It’s for your own good,” she teased. “What are you planning to do when you’re out of Arkham permanently?”
“I was considering assisting the local economy by bolstering sales for various small businesses and franchises in…”
Barbara shook her head sternly. “The fast food industry has managed just fine for the last couple of years. You’re not that vital for them.” She went back to measuring flour into the bread maker. “Besides, what are you going to do if you’re in disguise and your entire cover hangs on preparing a decent meal?”
“Under those circumstances,” Bruce replied wryly, “I’d tend to narrow my options to solving the case before it became an issue, or asking Clark to provide me with one of his mother’s casseroles.” He paused. “Or asking you for one of yours, for that matter.”
Barbara laughed. “Nice save. It doesn’t get you off K.P., but it’s still a nice one.”
Bruce’s lips quirked in a half-smile as he reached for a potato. “What is this going to be?”
“Depends,” Barbara admitted. “If the potatoes boil just the right amount of time, they’ll be potato salad. If they cook too long, we’ll mash ‘em. And if they’re underdone, we’ll pan-fry them with onion and paprika.”
“Contingency plans?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.
“Hey,” she grinned, “I learned from the best.”
At the beginning of March, Bruce’s furloughs were extended to two full days per week. He now left Arkham at 6 P.M. on Friday afternoons, returning forty-eight hours later. At that time of day, rush hour traffic could impact his curfew. Bruce knew that as long as he called in to notify his probation officer, all would be well. However, it still rankled him that he had to advise such a person as to his whereabouts. In point of fact, it rankled him to have to apprise anybody as to his whereabouts-but especially a probation officer.
He mentioned as much to Jim, when the older man arrived to pick him up that first Friday.
Jim smiled, a bit too broadly. “Now I know you’re getting better,” he explained. “If the little things are starting to annoy you this much…”
Bruce’s lips twitched. “Point taken.”
“In any case,” Gordon said, as he turned east onto a side street, “we’re going to make it home with time to spare, so it won’t be an issue.”
“Unless there’s a pile up on the Aparo,” Bruce said gloomily, “and the other cars decide to take the same detour that you have.”
Jim shook his head. “That won’t happen. Montoya’s decided to make it her business to see that we get back on time. We’re about to cross Brady-Williams Boulevard. Look out the window. Notice anything?”
Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. Portable barricades-the sort commonly used for crowd control during parades-blocked off the northbound and southbound lanes of the intersection. There were no cars ahead of or behind them.
Jim grinned. “You’ve got friends in some fairly high places. Our route is off-limits to through traffic,” he smirked, “buses excepted, between the hours of five-thirty and seven PM on Fridays. We’ll be home in about a half hour.” Jim chuckled. “Relax.”
Easier said than done, Bruce thought to himself. He was, quite frankly, stunned by this turn of events. “How?” He asked, sounding dazed.
“I guess,” Jim shrugged, “it all came down to politics. Renee’s on friendly terms with a few people at the mayor’s office. She made some calls and…” He let his voice trail off and took his eyes off the road for an instant to glance at his passenger. The only time he’d ever seen that expression grace Bruce’s face had been at the Christmas party over two months ago.
He signaled his left turn onto Repovski Street automatically, despite the absence of other vehicles behind him.
Bruce put down the receiver with some measure of irritation. Dick didn’t need to ask how the phone call with Rae had gone. “Did she at least give you a timeframe?” He asked without preamble.
Bruce shook his head. “She said that while these weekend passes are sure to work in our favor when we finally do present our case, right now, it’s still too premature to schedule another hearing.” His shoulders slumped. “She told me in November that it would be at least three months before we’d have a chance. It’s now been almost five.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you positive she’s doing everything she can?”
“Babs is,” Dick said. “Me? I trust her. More importantly, I trust Barbara’s instincts on this one. But if you think we’d do better with another firm, we can do some research and-”
“No,” Bruce interrupted with a sigh. “I investigated Rae thoroughly before I placed her on retainer. I won’t do better.”
“Maybe not,” Dick agreed. “Mind you, when you get right down to it, your situation might not be within her area of expertise. She might be out of her depth.”
“Granted,” Bruce admitted. “Can you name an attorney who wouldn’t be?”
Dick considered. “Well there’s…” No, even if Cecile Horton were still practicing, he doubted she’d drop everything and come in from Central City. And after the way she’d handled Barry Allen’s murder trial a few years back-Dick could still remember Wally ranting to him about her attitude after all this time-there was no way he was about to suggest her.
“Nobody,” Bruce said bleakly. “At this stage, I’m not prepared to break in someone new.” A sad smile flickered and faded. “Part of the reason I hired her was because she didn’t jump at the chance to be on Bruce Wayne’s payroll. She actually hired one of the best private investigators in the state to make sure I didn’t have any skeletons in my closet.”
“Oh, really?”
Bruce nodded. “She’s thorough, she’s ethical, and she’s tenacious. I’m not swapping that for some… some ambulance chaser, whose main ambition is to publish a tell-all book about the thrill of being my lawyer.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Dick retorted. “After the first hour or so, the thrill wears off.” He grinned. “You’re not always the easiest person to get along with, you know?”
“Point taken. It’s another reason not to dismiss Rae: if the new person didn’t work out, I doubt she’d return to my case.”
Bruce looked away. “I should be encouraged,” he continued, “that my… leash is getting longer. But…” He spun back to face Dick. “I’m almost there. It’s almost time. Sometimes I think I’m so close to getting free of that place that-”
Dick laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hey.”
Bruce shook it off. “I’m fine!”
“I know.”
His shoulders slumped. “I am fine. Really.” He paused. “I just…” he stopped. “It’s so…” He punched the wall, causing the knick-knacks on the overhead shelf to rattle.
“Bruce.” Dick placed his hand on the older man’s shoulder once again.
This time Bruce left it there. “Give me a minute.”
“Do you want a little privacy?”
The other man appeared to think the matter over. “No. Just… just give me a minute. I…”
Dick gave the shoulder a squeeze. “I’m here.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “And I’m almost as frustrated about this whole business as you are.”
Bruce nodded. “Any… sane person… would be,” he said, covering Dick’s hand with his own.
Cass sat cross-legged on the living room floor, facing the playpen, a thin paperback book open on her lap. Inside the enclosure, Helena stood clutching the cushioned rim and babbling happily.
“D… an… Dan,” she read aloud, “and To-ommm… Tom! Dan and Tom grrrab S… amm’s hands.” She stopped. “Dan and Tom grab Sam’s hands,” she repeated more confidently. She leaned forward and reached for a chubby hand. “Like I grab your hand, right?” She asked gently.
Helena squealed and extended her other hand toward Cass.
“You want to come out now?” She asked. “Out?”
Helena’s eyes became saucer-like. She nodded twice.
The young woman sighed, not unhappily. “I take you out, I have to watch you. Means I have to read this later.” She let the book slip to the floor. “So much to be done.” She lifted the baby out, then spun on her knees to face Bruce. She seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be talking to Helena as she continued. “But you don’t care, you just want out now, right?”
Bruce froze.
Cass kept looking down at Helena. “Rule is, I have to finish three pages before patrol and two pages before sleep.” She bounced the baby gently. “I think rule is stupid. Barbara says that’s okay as long as I follow. Says one day I thank her for it.” She grimaced. “Some friend, right?”
She looked up at Bruce. “I want to patrol tonight. Can you take her?”
Bruce held out his arms, smiling as Cass passed Helena forward. “Do you always talk to her like that?” He asked with a faint smile.
Cass shrugged. “She listens. Even if she doesn’t understand. I think I like that more than if she understood but… didn’t listen.” She turned around and looked down to retrieve the book. “If someone won’t listen, then no point saying anything anyway.” She faced him again. “Right?”
Bruce swayed gently back and forth, rocking Helena. “I imagine you heard me in the other room just now,” he said.
“Door was open. I couldn’t help it.” She bit her lip. “Some rules are stupid.”
He nodded.
“You going to follow anyway?”
He nodded again. “But I do appreciate the pep talk.”
Cass blinked. “Pep ta-oh!” She smiled broadly. “Bruce, that was for me. To help me focus. But if it works for you too, then good.”
That was the second time she’d made her point in a way that preserved his dignity. She was developing into quite the diplomat, he realized. He wondered who had been coaching her.
“Your reading seems to be coming along well,” he said.
She beamed at him. “You want to hear more? Sometimes I make mistakes.”
Bruce settled down on the sofa. “Understandable. You’ll improve.”
“I know. Practice makes perfect.” Cass rolled her eyes. “E-ventually.” She sighed dramatically as she flipped back to the proper page. “Tuh-hey… no. Sorry. They. They pu-ull Sam up…” She broke off. “It’s just so… frustrating.”
Bruce nodded. “I can relate.”
One week later
“Well,” Selina admitted with a laugh, “I have to admit the birthday girl isn’t too young for this, after all.” She watched her daughter gleefully sliding cardboard boxes on the carpet, and tearing brightly colored wrapping paper to shreds. She seemed oblivious to the toys that had been inside the packaging.
Bruce stooped to pick up a green plastic ‘space alien’. “Helena,” he said softly. “Helena!”
Big blue eyes looked up, startled.
Bruce pressed lightly down on the toy’s head and set it on the floor. The little alien beeped and hummed. Its chubby feet took a tottering step forward before it fell on its side. It lay there, burbling cheerfully as the feet churned air.
Helena giggled and dove for the toy, clambering eagerly over the boxes in her way. “Gla?” She asked, grabbing it. She put it down again, watching its feet kick.
Bruce set it upright again. It took another few steps. Helena watched with interest. All at once, she pounced. “DA!” She exclaimed, knocking the alien over again. She looked at Bruce expectantly.
He froze. “What did you say?” He looked around. “Did any of you teach her…?”
Blank stares answered him.
“Da!” She repeated. “Bla ga daladananaNA! Ba-ma-LA!” Helena babbled on, oblivious.
“Right now, it’s just a sound to her,” Selina said. “Of course, if you want her to associate you with that particular sound…” She placed a hand on his arm. “It’s up to you, Bruce. And you don’t have to decide right this second.”
Bruce barely heard her. “Da?” He asked gently as he crouched down so that his face was nearly level with Helena’s. He set the toy upright again. “Da?”
Helena bounced up and down, giggling. “Bababab mamamaMA!” She knocked the toy over again. “Gla!”
He raised his eyebrows. “Gla?” He asked, as though seeking clarification.
“Lo!” She stretched out her arms to him.
“Lo?” Bruce repeated with mock-incredulity as he hoisted her up.
The baby gave a little sigh and lolled her head against his shoulder. “Da.”
Sunday Night
“Thanks for the tip about the East Riders, Oracle,” Selina said. Her whip snaked upward, snapping and coiling around a potted plant that was sitting on a second-floor fire escape. A moment later, another gang member was down for the count, surrounded by dry soil and pottery shards. The thug was going to have a major headache when he came to.
“No worries,” the dulcet computerized voice responded. “Plenty of mooks to go around. I don’t mind sharing.”
Catwoman kicked another punk in the abdomen, as she lashed out with her claws toward a third. That one was lucky enough to shrink out of her range fast enough.
“Cute.”
“Yeah, it was…” Abruptly, the synthetic voice gave way to a human one. “Seeing Bruce with Helena the other day.”
She leaped forward, her claws extended to slice open the cheek of another gang member.
“That was something, wasn’t it?” She laughed. “I always thought he’d be good with kids but…” Her tone turned serious. “Hang on a second, Red. Loose end.”
Barbara waited patiently, wincing a bit as she heard the grunts and groans of the remaining ‘Riders.
“All tied up,” Selina announced brightly a moment later. “Where were we?”
“Bruce.”
“Right. Yeah, seeing him in action… Can I ask you something?”
Barbara grinned. “Shoot.”
There was a pause. Then, hesitantly, “Are you… worried about being linked to Dick?”
For a moment, Barbara was too surprised to answer. “Worried?”
“Given that everyone knows about his connection to Bruce, I mean. Does it worry you that your association with him makes you… makes you more of a target?”
Comprehension dawned. Barbara took a deep breath. “I’m used to taking a few risks,” she said carefully. “I have a slew of safety precautions, and I’m always on the lookout for new ones, but at the end of the day…”
“At the end of the day,” Selina blurted, “I’m happy to take those same risks. But I don’t know if I can do that where Helena’s concerned.” She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was carefully controlled. “I told Dick before that it was up to Bruce if he wanted the two of us in his life. It’s what I want. But…” She took a deep breath. “I’m not one of you Justice League types, sacrificing my life to save the planet or some garbage like that. But if it comes down to Helena’s life or my hap-” She bit off the words abruptly. “As if I could be ‘happy’ if G-d forbid something happened to her! G-d! I don’t know what to do. I-Shi-!”
“CATWOMAN!”
Silence. Then, a moment later, “Sorry. My last jump was a little short. Good thing I had my whip or things could’ve gotten messy.” She sighed. “Maybe I should stop worrying about how dangerous having Bruce in my life could be, and re-examine myself a little more.”
Barbara waited until she was sure that Selina was finished. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she admitted. “I mean, I know what I want to tell you. Namely, that I can set you up with the best security system money can’t buy-because half of it isn’t on the market yet. Then, I could remind you that Catwoman has made a few enemies also, and that it’s equally likely that Helena could be targeted because of a caper you pulled off years ago. I could go on to point out that with my father being the commissioner-former commissioner now-as well as Batman’s best friend, I was a target long before I ever started going out with Dick Grayson. All of that’s true.” She took a deep breath. “It’s also true that you have a daughter who is barely one year old. And that no security system is impregnable.”
“So you think that I…”
“What I think isn’t important. Not this time.”
“Which means you think I should keep Bruce in our lives,” Selina stated. “But that I’m not exactly being unrealistic given the risks involved.”
It was now Barbara’s turn to pause. “Correct,” She admitted. “One thing, though. If anything were to happen to Helena, and Bruce found out about it? Do you think for one minute that he wouldn’t find whoever was responsible, no matter where they were hiding?”
Selina nodded to herself. Barbara was right. But then she heard herself asking “But would he find them in time?”
Barbara had no answer.
Firefly darted into the shadows when he heard footsteps approaching. He thought he remembered which corridors were under lighter surveillance. They couldn’t thwart him now-he was nearly done.
He held his breath as the orderlies tramped by. Then, after double-checking that the hall was clear, he darted into the stairwell. He emerged, panting, on the third floor. He’d had a busy week, but his preparations were nearly at an end. This was the last device he needed to plant.
His crepe-soled shoes barely audible on the Epoxy flooring as Firefly stole past the administrative offices. In this place, they were sure to be either locked or occupied. No, what he needed was-Perfect! Next to the Men’s room was an unlocked supply cabinet, containing stores of bathroom tissue and paper towels. Safe items. Harmless. Lynns pulled a cell phone out of one pocket, and a wad of plastique out of another. With a speed born of practice, he pried open the phone casing and set about turning the communications device into a rather nasty explosive.
He had it all planned to the last detail. The system was foolproof. Thirty-two cell phones. In two days time, shortly after eleven o’clock at night, as the fireworks festival drew to a close, a routine that he had programmed into the final cell would dial the numbers of two of the other phones. Moments later, two warehouses, which faced each other on opposite sides of the Sprang River would go up in a pyrotechnic extravaganza. Five minutes after the first detonations, the second pair would lend their flames to the display. Five minutes after that-the third. And so on, until, forty-five minutes after the beginning of his display, Arkham would glow-a flaming beacon in the night sky. For once, this dull, dreary, depressing hellhole would brighten the countenances of all that beheld it. It would be glorious. It would be stupendous. It would be-
“What are you doing?”
The thin nasal voice startled him and he quickly shoved the phone into the middle of the neatly-stacked rolls of toilet paper. No! He was so close…
“Who are you?”
Shakily, Firefly turned around.
Jeremiah Arkham sniffed. “Why, Garfield. I must say, I’m surprised to see you here. Came back on your own, did you?” He brandished a long stun baton. “My office, Garfield. I’ll have the orderlies collect you from there.” His eyes narrowed. “What were you doing, poking about in there?”
Lynns didn’t answer.
“No matter,” Arkham sniffed again. “I’m sure security will be able to deal with it momentarily. Shall we?”
Firefly thought furiously. If he could only program this last device, it would all be worth it. He just needed a minute. He let his shoulders slump in apparent defeat as he preceded Arkham down the corridor. As he neared the door to the stairwell, he quickened his pace. Before the administrator could react, the arsonist had pushed open the door and dashed down two flights of stairs.
He emerged in the medium security section. Lynns grit his teeth. He didn’t have much time. He had to program the cell phone number into the dialer file. He could worry about the timer later. He pulled out his own personal cell. All the other phone numbers were stored here. The last one was 555-1… what was it? 555-1…
“There he is!” Two guards came charging toward him.
Lynns turned to flee. All at once, he remembered the number! Barely paying attention to where he was going, he typed as he ran. They were gaining on him, but he had the number keyed. Now if he could just…
He pitched forward suddenly as his feet encountered an uneven patch of flooring. The phone slipped out of his hand and Lynns landed heavily upon it. The guards were there immediately.
One of them nudged him with his foot. “Get up. Now.”
Lynns struggled painfully to comply. He managed to rise to one knee, and then reached to retrieve the phone. He blinked. His jaw went slack. No… no, it couldn’t be! When he’d landed on the phone, he’d somehow enabled the program and the phone was now dialing the other numb-
“I said get up!” The guard nudged him again, harder.
Lynns rolled and sprang to his feet. “We have to get out of here! Now, before this place goes up in smoke!” He’d meant to call in an anonymous warning just before he ignited the first warehouses. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! It wasn’t…
The other guard hauled him up by his shirtfront. “Shut up! Quit raving! Now, we’re going to take a little walk to…”
“Hey!” A voice shouted from further down the hallway. “Look at that! There’s a warehouse fire on the Sprang! Wait a second… there’s two of ‘em!”
“I know, you idiot!” Lynns screamed. “And we’re next! Take me to Doctor Arkham! He’ll believe me! We have to evacuate!” There was still time. If he could just get back to the supply cabinet and disarm the phone. “I want to talk to Arkham!”
The other patients were waking up now, adding their shrieks to his.
“There’s another one!” The voice at the window called.
Lynns froze. Another… but it hadn’t been five minutes yet. It couldn’t have been... “Oh. My. G-d.” He whispered. “They’re going off too soon.” Panic gave him strength. He twisted out of the guard’s grasp, tearing the shirt as he did. He raced back up the stairs. He had to get to the cabinet, FAST!
One floor up, he was just rounding the bend to his destination when he heard an all-too-familiar ring tone. He shrank back in horror. It was too late…
In the Scituate-an area once known colloquially as the ‘Sports Quarter’, Batman listened attentively to the conversation coming through over a small transmitter. The tip he’d received from one of his regular sources had been good. The Gotham Knights pitcher was indeed being pressured to throw the upcoming game.
The Dark Knight set his jaw firmly. Protection rackets… blackmail… he had relatively low tolerance for such things.
“Batman!” Oracle’s voice practically shrieked in his ear. “Drop what you’re doing and get to Arkham, stat!”
“What?”
“Turn on the radio. Any station-it doesn’t matter. The warehouse district is in flames and… Batman… so’s the asylum.” Her voice faltered. “Dick… Arkham’s burning as we speak, and I-I haven’t heard any reports yet to confirm who’s made it out.”
Dick felt as though he’d been sucker-punched. “Copy that, Oracle,” he said faintly. “I’m on my way.”
I’m coming, Bruce. Hang on. I’m coming…
In his room, Bruce flung himself down on the bed still seething as he mentally replayed what Dick had said to him. How dared he? Gotham came first. It always took precedence. How could Dick have even considered that Bruce would accept anything less?
And if he did go out tonight at your insistence, and something did happen?
Bruce tried to squelch that thought. There was always a certain amount of risk involved in what they did. Dick would be fine, like he always was.
And if he wasn’t? If Joker shot him tonight? Or if a building exploded and he found himself lying in an alley with a broken leg? Or in a coma… or worse?
Bruce bit his lip. If something like that had happened… he’d never forgive himself, no matter how much anybody tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault.
He rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. Someone had fluffed it, he realized with a pang. They’d done everything they could to make him feel at home. And at the first opportunity, he repaid them… how? His hands were sweating. This weekend was a mistake. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready yet. All he was doing was making everyone around him miserable. They didn’t deserve that. He shouldn’t be disrupting their lives. No, his mind was made up. Tomorrow morning, he’d ask Dick to drive him back to Arkham. That was probably the best solution. He could try this experiment again in a month or two when he was better equipped to deal with it…
Bruce didn’t remember having closed his eyes, but when they inched open again, the sky was significantly darker than it had been when he had stormed in here. It was probably after midnight. The others were likely still awake, he realized, but he didn’t feel up to facing them at the moment. He couldn’t fall back asleep, though.
In the end, it was Helena’s wailing that got him off the bed, and sprinting to open the bedroom door. The light from the hallway stabbed his eyes when he did, and he closed them reflexively.
A moment later, when they had adjusted, he made his way back toward the living room.
The cries broke off abruptly as Bruce entered. Jim was just settling down on the sofa with the baby on his lap. She was sucking contentedly on a bottle of juice. Jim smiled down at her.
The smile remained as he looked at Bruce. “I was just about to get another piece of that pie when she woke up,” he said. “Do you want to join me?”
Bruce started to demur.
Gordon stopped him. “You missed out on it earlier,” he added, making it sound like a criminal offense. At Bruce’s reluctant nod, he smiled. “Good choice.”
“Where is everybody?” Bruce asked.
“Well,” Gordon said, “Barbara’s out monitoring the Titans-I understand she’s got an office not far from here. Cassandra left after supper. I imagine she’s doing whatever she normally does with her nights.” He chuckled. “For the life of me, I can’t remember whether I’m supposed to know the specifics, yet. Dick said to tell you that he wouldn’t mind some company if you wanted to join him out on the balcony.”
Bruce sat down. “Maybe after.” Gordon was here awfully late. “Are you living here now?”
Gordon shook his head. “No, no. Either one of the kids will give me a lift back later, or I’ll drive home myself when it’s light out.” He laughed. “Too many late nights got to be habit-forming after awhile, I suppose.”
Bruce nodded. He understood that. In fact, that might work out rather well… “If you head out in the morning,” he asked, “would you mind giving me a lift back to Arkham on your way?”
The older man’s eyebrows drew together. “Any reason for wanting to cut this short?” He handed Helena to him. “I’m going to get that pie.”
Bruce took the baby gently. “After what happened tonight…” he began to say.
“Just what did happen tonight, Bruce?” Jim strode to the ’fridge to retrieve the dessert. “You two had a disagreement, but nothing so bad that the pair of you aren’t on speaking terms.”
“I’m reverting to type,” Bruce tried to explain. “As soon as things don’t fall into place the way I expect, I’m back to barking orders.” He rocked the baby absently. “Maybe in a month, things will be-”
Gordon’s exclamation was both pointed and unprintable. “I thought the reason behind this weekend was to ease the transition process when you pass that hearing,” he snapped. “Were you really expecting it to go without a hitch?” He paused. “You were, weren’t you?”
He popped the foil pie plate in the oven. “How many other skills did you nail on the first try?” He demanded. “Why in the name of all that’s blasted holy would you think this would be any different?”
Bruce had no answer. Abashed, he looked down at a pair of wide blue eyes. The bottle dropped and slid to his lap. A hand shot up, reaching toward his nose. “Cut that out,” he protested, stifling a laugh and lifting his head. Undaunted, the baby patted his cheek.
Gordon chuckled. “Looks like I’m not the only one who feels like slapping you sometimes,” he said. “Listen, Bruce, things are going to look better in the morning if they don’t already. Have the pie. Then get some sleep. Nobody here wants you back in Arkham, including you.” As Bruce started to interrupt, Gordon plowed on. “If you really wanted to go back early, you wouldn’t be trying to get a ride from me. All you need to do is open the front door and take the elevator down to street level. You’d be back in your cell so fast you’d think you used one of those… those… those Thanagarian boom tube whatchamacallums.”
Bruce conceded the point. “Still… my being here does present a certain amount of friction,” he said.
“So does mine,” Jim shot back. “Parents tend to have that effect.” He sighed. “Dick’s on the balcony,” he reminded him. “Why don’t you ask him what he thinks about your presence here?”
He moved to take the baby. Bruce surrendered her reluctantly. “The pie will keep,” he said. “Go on.”
Bruce rose to his feet. He knew that Jim was right about Dick. More than that, he knew that he’d been out of line earlier, and he wanted Dick to know it too.
He got as far as the balcony door before he froze, his hand on the knob. Someone else was out there, too.
“Almost feels like I never left,” Tim said. “Except that Harrier doesn’t have any name recognition to trade on in these parts.”
Dick grinned. “Give it time.”
The cowled figure shook his head. “Midterms start up in a couple of weeks. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back here until May, when I’m done with the semester.” He sighed. “It’s not high school anymore. I can’t coast the way I used to.” He paused a moment before he added, “and I’m pulling a C-plus in criminology.”
Dick gaped at him. “How is that even possible?”
“You tell me.” His disgust was palpable. “The prof wants everything done his way and woe betide you if you deviate…”
“And that mindset is something new to you?”
Tim didn’t return the smile. “His way happens to be wrong. Or incomplete. We had a quiz last week-that’s actually one plus to this course: not everything hangs on the final exam. I knew every single answer. Except that more than twenty per cent of what I wrote wasn’t in the textbook. So he marked me down.”
Dick let out a low whistle. “Yikes.”
“Tell me about it.” He pushed back the cowl. In the moonlight, his face concealed by nothing more than a domino mask, he suddenly seemed more like the boy Dick had met over five years earlier, and less like the adult he’d since become. “I wish I had Barbara’s photographic memory. Between my other classes and the Titans, I haven’t got time for the text.” He sighed. “Sorry. Just venting. I mean, a C-plus in criminology?” He grimaced. “And it doesn’t help that it’s a five-credit course. A C-plus there is almost like getting two C-plusses, as far as my GPA is concerned.”
“Uh-huh.”
The younger man sighed. “By the way,” he said, brightening, “thanks for the vote of confidence with the Titans. Vic said you told him you knew I was up to the challenge.”
Dick placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “That shouldn’t be news to you. It’s not like you haven’t been leading in the field before this.”
“I know. But given the way I blasted Bruce before I left Gotham… I wasn’t sure if you’d trust me to keep my head on straight under pressure.”
“Because of what you said to him?” Dick asked. “You didn’t rack up any brownie points with me, true. But if losing your temper with Bruce disqualified you for leadership, I wouldn’t have been running the Titans in my day.” He grinned. After a moment, Tim returned the smile.
“Thought they squeezed you out after awhile.”
Dick gave him a cuff on the ear. “Smartass.”
Tim chuckled briefly, then sobered. “How did it go tonight?”
“On the whole?” Dick asked. “Pretty well. Did you want to come in? I can see if he’s still up.”
Tim appeared to be thinking it over. “Maybe next time,” he said finally.
“Tim…”
“I don’t hate him, okay?” The youth snapped. “But everything’s mixed up. Like if I try to pretend the past didn’t happen, am I… being disloyal to Steph’s memory? And no… I don’t honestly believe that. Part of me wants to forgive him. Maybe I already have, I don’t know. But right now… right now, from what you’ve been saying, he’s going to need our support. And the way things are, I don’t know if I’m the best person to call on for that.”
He ran a gloved hand through his hair. “I… tell Bruce I said ‘Hi’. And tell him I’m glad he’s doing better. And that I’ll try to write to him when I’ve got more of a handle on my study time. And…” He pulled up his hood, concealing his face in shadow once more, “nothing,” he finished. “I’ll tell him the rest myself one of these days.”
Dick seemed about to protest. But all he said was, “Take care of yourself, little bro’.”
As the younger man swung out of sight, Dick relaxed his posture. Without turning around, he said, “I’m actually kind of glad you heard that.”
“You knew I was there,” Bruce stated.
Dick allowed a faint hint of smugness to creep into his voice. “Naturally.” He turned to face the older man. “It’s a beautiful night. Did you want to sit out here for a bit?” In the illumination provided by the floodlight above him, his breath was visible in the cold air. “I can wait while you grab your jacket,” he added.
Bruce shook his head. “Not this time.” He gestured in the direction that Tim had gone. “He’s growing up.”
“Yep. He calls himself ‘The Harrier’, these days. San Francisco’s getting to be famous for him.” He sighed. “If you recall, you and I went through about a year and a half when we weren’t on speaking terms. We patched things up. You and Tim will too.”
The older man looked away, unwilling to concede the point. “Let’s go inside.”
A few minutes later, three generations of crime-fighters were seated around the kitchen table, mugs of herbal tea and plates of pie and ice cream before them.
“About earlier,” Bruce ventured.
Dick grinned. “Yeah, that chicken was great.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Bruce shook his head, “but…” He looked away. “I should have appreciated what you were attempting to do earlier.”
Dick cut another piece of pie. “No worries.” He paused. “Um… that was just an expression.”
“I know.” Bruce added another spoon of softening ice cream, and watched as white rivulets pooled slowly on the still-warm pie. “I’m…” He drew a deep breath. “You were right. I was wrong.”
Dick’s jaw dropped. Even Jim looked stunned. “Bruce, I…” To cover his stupefaction, the younger man quickly popped a morsel of pie into his mouth. By the time he’d swallowed it, he had recovered enough to say, “I guess it had to happen sooner or later.” He paused. “Thanks.”
Bruce relaxed visibly. He downed a sip of tea. “I’ve been out of the loop,” he said, “but even in my… situation, word reached me about Batman’s activities. You have a handle on things, and it isn’t my place to second-guess you. Not now.”
“Yeah, well,” Dick placed a hand on Bruce’s forearm. “I’m still doing things mostly the way you did. The only major changes I’ve implemented have more to do with stress management…”
Unnoticed, Gordon got up, slipped on his coat, and went out to the balcony. He spared a smile for the baby, now sleeping in the playpen. In Gordon’s estimation, at times like these, it was best to withdraw. After all, there were some specifics about their crime-fighting activities that he still didn’t think he needed to know.
Selina came back an hour later. She left with Helena in tow, promising to see Bruce again the next time. Barbara returned shortly afterwards, stopping in the kitchen to put on a fresh pot of coffee before driving her father home. She loved the freedom of having her customized van. It came in handy every so often.
The two men were so deep in conversation that they barely noticed. Bruce had been half-expecting, and half-dreading that Dick was about to bring up every missed school event, every cold shoulder, every blow that Bruce had inflicted on the younger man’s ego-wittingly or otherwise. Once again, Dick had surprised him.
“I think I’ve pretty much gotten that bit sorted out,” he said. “I mean, if there’s anything you want to discuss, that’s fine… but, I guess while I was taking charge of Gotham, and of,” he flushed, “of your medical interests, and so on, I kind of accepted some responsibility for my own messes, instead of chalking them up to you.” He smiled ruefully. “Truth be told, I was in a big one, right before you got arrested.”
Bruce nodded. “I know about Blockbuster.” He hadn’t known how to broach the subject at the time. He still wasn’t sure that this was the best way. Once said, however, those four words could not be unsaid.
Dick bit his lip, and studied the surface of the table for a moment. When he looked up again, his eyes were clear. “I wondered about that,” he admitted. “I wish I’d known then. It might have made things easier.” He sighed. “Or not. I guess there’s really no way to be sure. I’m sorry I let you down, though.”
Bruce shook his head. “You never did.” He held up his hand. “Hear me out. I wasn’t there. I don’t know the details. They aren’t important. I do know you. And I know that you would have to have been at your breaking point to act as you did.” His eyes sought Dick’s and held them with a blinding intensity. “Everything that you’ve done since then-tells me that what happened with Desmond was an aberration.” He shook his head again. “There are a few people who can fall into an abyss… and climb out again. I’ve never dared to find out whether I was one of them.” He sighed. “And I wish I could have spared you that self-knowledge.”
Dick absorbed that. He nodded faintly. “Thanks. I… worked things out on my own. Had to. I didn’t know when you’d be in a position to forgive me, but somewhere along the line, I forgave myself.” Not everybody got the chance to face his demons a second time. Not everybody vanquished those demons. One night, on a staircase in a warehouse, Dick had. “I haven’t forgotten,” he hastened to add. “I never will. But I’ve moved on from that point.”
Bruce squeezed his shoulder. “Good,” he said firmly. He drew a deep breath. Whether Dick still needed to hear it or not, Bruce still felt that there was something he had to say. “I want you to know,” he said, “that at no time, regardless of anything I might have said or given you reason to think in the past, did you ever fail me. If there was ever a person you let down, it was yourself.” He allowed himself a wistful smile. “While I, on the other hand…”
The ‘Grayson grin’ was suddenly back in full force. “Pot. Kettle. Give yourself a break. What? I’m the only one around here who’s allowed to mess up?” He shook his head. “You can find a million reasons to let me off the hook-even if I don’t need them anymore-and it’s still appreciated, don’t misunderstand. Can you tell me why it is, though, that you can’t let yourself find even one reason to cut yourself a little slack?”
Bruce leaned forward. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Why not?”
…
The lavender hues of sunrise were shifting more toward pink when Bruce finally headed back to his room. It felt as though he and Dick had cleared enough air between them to eliminate the city’s smog problems. They hadn’t resolved everything, true, and likely never would, but it was a start. A strong one.
“Did you ever get around to answering his question?” Alex asked. The doctor’s hands were steepled before him, fingertips extended toward Bruce.
Bruce shook his head. “There was no answer that I could give that he would accept.” He met Alex’s gaze directly. “That’s the crux of the matter. Isn’t it?”
Alex waited. After a moment, Bruce dropped his eyes again.
“He doesn’t understand. Commanders bear responsibility not just for their own actions but for those of the people under their command. They are always… always held to a more exacting standard.”
Alex nodded, but he was frowning as though he didn’t quite comprehend.
Bruce continued. “Batman is a vigilante. He reports to nobody.” Jim came close sometimes. Or… Alfred. Bruce squelched the thought. “I set protocols,” he winced at the word, “not just for those who join me, but for myself as well. If I don’t have ground rules, the risk of… of falling into the abyss is too great. But I, more than the others, have to abide by those standards. If I were to bend them once, there would be a temptation to bend them again in the future. Better not to take that step.”
Alex’s frown deepened. “I’m puzzled,” he admitted. “In our past sessions, you’ve mentioned that you regret that your son seems to hold himself to those same standards. And yet, he’s been leading one team or another since he was thirteen. Why shouldn’t he be so exacting?”
“That’s not the same thing.” Bruce shifted position.
“Okay…” Alex said dubiously. “But I’m a little foggy on where the distinction lies.”
“Because that’s not who he is,” Bruce said finally.
“He’s not a leader?”
Bruce shook his head. “He’s not… aloof.”
“I’ve seen that,” Alex smiled. “But a good leader has to be aloof, right?”
Bruce froze.
“I’m sorry,” Alex said instantly. “I’m just trying to understand. If holding yourself to a higher standard is the price of command, and yet someone whose leadership skills you admire… either doesn’t conform or shouldn’t conform… which one was it, again?”
“He isn’t me!” Bruce snapped. He drew his breath in sharply. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Why should he have to make the same mistakes I have?”
For a moment, there was silence. Then, his voice almost as low as Bruce’s had been, Alex asked, “Why should you have to continue to make them?”
The next weeks passed swiftly. Bruce continued to work with Alex, but the sessions were no longer relaxing. Despite-or perhaps because of-their intensity, Bruce sensed that the counseling was helping him and he forced himself to continue. As painful as this self-examination was, understanding its purpose made the exercise bearable.
As the weekend passes became part of his routine, Bruce found himself rehashing with Dick the topics that came up in therapy. He also brought up points that Alex had yet to raise. With Dick, he was able to skip a lot of background detail, and go directly to the heart of the matter. He also found it less painful subsequently, when the same subject came up with Alex.
The lessons in the kitchen continued. One week, Barbara showed him how to prepare a soup. Another week, it was a salad. But no weekend visit passed without Barbara serving some dish that he had helped to create. The results weren’t always perfect, but so far, nothing had been an unmitigated disaster.
“Do you know the difference between ‘company’ and ‘family’?” Barbara asked him once, when tried to forgo the weekly recipe. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “Family pitches in. So peel and dice those potatoes and pitch them in to that pot on the stove once the water boils.”
Bruce sighed.
“It’s for your own good,” she teased. “What are you planning to do when you’re out of Arkham permanently?”
“I was considering assisting the local economy by bolstering sales for various small businesses and franchises in…”
Barbara shook her head sternly. “The fast food industry has managed just fine for the last couple of years. You’re not that vital for them.” She went back to measuring flour into the bread maker. “Besides, what are you going to do if you’re in disguise and your entire cover hangs on preparing a decent meal?”
“Under those circumstances,” Bruce replied wryly, “I’d tend to narrow my options to solving the case before it became an issue, or asking Clark to provide me with one of his mother’s casseroles.” He paused. “Or asking you for one of yours, for that matter.”
Barbara laughed. “Nice save. It doesn’t get you off K.P., but it’s still a nice one.”
Bruce’s lips quirked in a half-smile as he reached for a potato. “What is this going to be?”
“Depends,” Barbara admitted. “If the potatoes boil just the right amount of time, they’ll be potato salad. If they cook too long, we’ll mash ‘em. And if they’re underdone, we’ll pan-fry them with onion and paprika.”
“Contingency plans?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.
“Hey,” she grinned, “I learned from the best.”
At the beginning of March, Bruce’s furloughs were extended to two full days per week. He now left Arkham at 6 P.M. on Friday afternoons, returning forty-eight hours later. At that time of day, rush hour traffic could impact his curfew. Bruce knew that as long as he called in to notify his probation officer, all would be well. However, it still rankled him that he had to advise such a person as to his whereabouts. In point of fact, it rankled him to have to apprise anybody as to his whereabouts-but especially a probation officer.
He mentioned as much to Jim, when the older man arrived to pick him up that first Friday.
Jim smiled, a bit too broadly. “Now I know you’re getting better,” he explained. “If the little things are starting to annoy you this much…”
Bruce’s lips twitched. “Point taken.”
“In any case,” Gordon said, as he turned east onto a side street, “we’re going to make it home with time to spare, so it won’t be an issue.”
“Unless there’s a pile up on the Aparo,” Bruce said gloomily, “and the other cars decide to take the same detour that you have.”
Jim shook his head. “That won’t happen. Montoya’s decided to make it her business to see that we get back on time. We’re about to cross Brady-Williams Boulevard. Look out the window. Notice anything?”
Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. Portable barricades-the sort commonly used for crowd control during parades-blocked off the northbound and southbound lanes of the intersection. There were no cars ahead of or behind them.
Jim grinned. “You’ve got friends in some fairly high places. Our route is off-limits to through traffic,” he smirked, “buses excepted, between the hours of five-thirty and seven PM on Fridays. We’ll be home in about a half hour.” Jim chuckled. “Relax.”
Easier said than done, Bruce thought to himself. He was, quite frankly, stunned by this turn of events. “How?” He asked, sounding dazed.
“I guess,” Jim shrugged, “it all came down to politics. Renee’s on friendly terms with a few people at the mayor’s office. She made some calls and…” He let his voice trail off and took his eyes off the road for an instant to glance at his passenger. The only time he’d ever seen that expression grace Bruce’s face had been at the Christmas party over two months ago.
He signaled his left turn onto Repovski Street automatically, despite the absence of other vehicles behind him.
Bruce put down the receiver with some measure of irritation. Dick didn’t need to ask how the phone call with Rae had gone. “Did she at least give you a timeframe?” He asked without preamble.
Bruce shook his head. “She said that while these weekend passes are sure to work in our favor when we finally do present our case, right now, it’s still too premature to schedule another hearing.” His shoulders slumped. “She told me in November that it would be at least three months before we’d have a chance. It’s now been almost five.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you positive she’s doing everything she can?”
“Babs is,” Dick said. “Me? I trust her. More importantly, I trust Barbara’s instincts on this one. But if you think we’d do better with another firm, we can do some research and-”
“No,” Bruce interrupted with a sigh. “I investigated Rae thoroughly before I placed her on retainer. I won’t do better.”
“Maybe not,” Dick agreed. “Mind you, when you get right down to it, your situation might not be within her area of expertise. She might be out of her depth.”
“Granted,” Bruce admitted. “Can you name an attorney who wouldn’t be?”
Dick considered. “Well there’s…” No, even if Cecile Horton were still practicing, he doubted she’d drop everything and come in from Central City. And after the way she’d handled Barry Allen’s murder trial a few years back-Dick could still remember Wally ranting to him about her attitude after all this time-there was no way he was about to suggest her.
“Nobody,” Bruce said bleakly. “At this stage, I’m not prepared to break in someone new.” A sad smile flickered and faded. “Part of the reason I hired her was because she didn’t jump at the chance to be on Bruce Wayne’s payroll. She actually hired one of the best private investigators in the state to make sure I didn’t have any skeletons in my closet.”
“Oh, really?”
Bruce nodded. “She’s thorough, she’s ethical, and she’s tenacious. I’m not swapping that for some… some ambulance chaser, whose main ambition is to publish a tell-all book about the thrill of being my lawyer.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Dick retorted. “After the first hour or so, the thrill wears off.” He grinned. “You’re not always the easiest person to get along with, you know?”
“Point taken. It’s another reason not to dismiss Rae: if the new person didn’t work out, I doubt she’d return to my case.”
Bruce looked away. “I should be encouraged,” he continued, “that my… leash is getting longer. But…” He spun back to face Dick. “I’m almost there. It’s almost time. Sometimes I think I’m so close to getting free of that place that-”
Dick laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hey.”
Bruce shook it off. “I’m fine!”
“I know.”
His shoulders slumped. “I am fine. Really.” He paused. “I just…” he stopped. “It’s so…” He punched the wall, causing the knick-knacks on the overhead shelf to rattle.
“Bruce.” Dick placed his hand on the older man’s shoulder once again.
This time Bruce left it there. “Give me a minute.”
“Do you want a little privacy?”
The other man appeared to think the matter over. “No. Just… just give me a minute. I…”
Dick gave the shoulder a squeeze. “I’m here.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “And I’m almost as frustrated about this whole business as you are.”
Bruce nodded. “Any… sane person… would be,” he said, covering Dick’s hand with his own.
Cass sat cross-legged on the living room floor, facing the playpen, a thin paperback book open on her lap. Inside the enclosure, Helena stood clutching the cushioned rim and babbling happily.
“D… an… Dan,” she read aloud, “and To-ommm… Tom! Dan and Tom grrrab S… amm’s hands.” She stopped. “Dan and Tom grab Sam’s hands,” she repeated more confidently. She leaned forward and reached for a chubby hand. “Like I grab your hand, right?” She asked gently.
Helena squealed and extended her other hand toward Cass.
“You want to come out now?” She asked. “Out?”
Helena’s eyes became saucer-like. She nodded twice.
The young woman sighed, not unhappily. “I take you out, I have to watch you. Means I have to read this later.” She let the book slip to the floor. “So much to be done.” She lifted the baby out, then spun on her knees to face Bruce. She seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be talking to Helena as she continued. “But you don’t care, you just want out now, right?”
Bruce froze.
Cass kept looking down at Helena. “Rule is, I have to finish three pages before patrol and two pages before sleep.” She bounced the baby gently. “I think rule is stupid. Barbara says that’s okay as long as I follow. Says one day I thank her for it.” She grimaced. “Some friend, right?”
She looked up at Bruce. “I want to patrol tonight. Can you take her?”
Bruce held out his arms, smiling as Cass passed Helena forward. “Do you always talk to her like that?” He asked with a faint smile.
Cass shrugged. “She listens. Even if she doesn’t understand. I think I like that more than if she understood but… didn’t listen.” She turned around and looked down to retrieve the book. “If someone won’t listen, then no point saying anything anyway.” She faced him again. “Right?”
Bruce swayed gently back and forth, rocking Helena. “I imagine you heard me in the other room just now,” he said.
“Door was open. I couldn’t help it.” She bit her lip. “Some rules are stupid.”
He nodded.
“You going to follow anyway?”
He nodded again. “But I do appreciate the pep talk.”
Cass blinked. “Pep ta-oh!” She smiled broadly. “Bruce, that was for me. To help me focus. But if it works for you too, then good.”
That was the second time she’d made her point in a way that preserved his dignity. She was developing into quite the diplomat, he realized. He wondered who had been coaching her.
“Your reading seems to be coming along well,” he said.
She beamed at him. “You want to hear more? Sometimes I make mistakes.”
Bruce settled down on the sofa. “Understandable. You’ll improve.”
“I know. Practice makes perfect.” Cass rolled her eyes. “E-ventually.” She sighed dramatically as she flipped back to the proper page. “Tuh-hey… no. Sorry. They. They pu-ull Sam up…” She broke off. “It’s just so… frustrating.”
Bruce nodded. “I can relate.”
One week later
“Well,” Selina admitted with a laugh, “I have to admit the birthday girl isn’t too young for this, after all.” She watched her daughter gleefully sliding cardboard boxes on the carpet, and tearing brightly colored wrapping paper to shreds. She seemed oblivious to the toys that had been inside the packaging.
Bruce stooped to pick up a green plastic ‘space alien’. “Helena,” he said softly. “Helena!”
Big blue eyes looked up, startled.
Bruce pressed lightly down on the toy’s head and set it on the floor. The little alien beeped and hummed. Its chubby feet took a tottering step forward before it fell on its side. It lay there, burbling cheerfully as the feet churned air.
Helena giggled and dove for the toy, clambering eagerly over the boxes in her way. “Gla?” She asked, grabbing it. She put it down again, watching its feet kick.
Bruce set it upright again. It took another few steps. Helena watched with interest. All at once, she pounced. “DA!” She exclaimed, knocking the alien over again. She looked at Bruce expectantly.
He froze. “What did you say?” He looked around. “Did any of you teach her…?”
Blank stares answered him.
“Da!” She repeated. “Bla ga daladananaNA! Ba-ma-LA!” Helena babbled on, oblivious.
“Right now, it’s just a sound to her,” Selina said. “Of course, if you want her to associate you with that particular sound…” She placed a hand on his arm. “It’s up to you, Bruce. And you don’t have to decide right this second.”
Bruce barely heard her. “Da?” He asked gently as he crouched down so that his face was nearly level with Helena’s. He set the toy upright again. “Da?”
Helena bounced up and down, giggling. “Bababab mamamaMA!” She knocked the toy over again. “Gla!”
He raised his eyebrows. “Gla?” He asked, as though seeking clarification.
“Lo!” She stretched out her arms to him.
“Lo?” Bruce repeated with mock-incredulity as he hoisted her up.
The baby gave a little sigh and lolled her head against his shoulder. “Da.”
Sunday Night
“Thanks for the tip about the East Riders, Oracle,” Selina said. Her whip snaked upward, snapping and coiling around a potted plant that was sitting on a second-floor fire escape. A moment later, another gang member was down for the count, surrounded by dry soil and pottery shards. The thug was going to have a major headache when he came to.
“No worries,” the dulcet computerized voice responded. “Plenty of mooks to go around. I don’t mind sharing.”
Catwoman kicked another punk in the abdomen, as she lashed out with her claws toward a third. That one was lucky enough to shrink out of her range fast enough.
“Cute.”
“Yeah, it was…” Abruptly, the synthetic voice gave way to a human one. “Seeing Bruce with Helena the other day.”
She leaped forward, her claws extended to slice open the cheek of another gang member.
“That was something, wasn’t it?” She laughed. “I always thought he’d be good with kids but…” Her tone turned serious. “Hang on a second, Red. Loose end.”
Barbara waited patiently, wincing a bit as she heard the grunts and groans of the remaining ‘Riders.
“All tied up,” Selina announced brightly a moment later. “Where were we?”
“Bruce.”
“Right. Yeah, seeing him in action… Can I ask you something?”
Barbara grinned. “Shoot.”
There was a pause. Then, hesitantly, “Are you… worried about being linked to Dick?”
For a moment, Barbara was too surprised to answer. “Worried?”
“Given that everyone knows about his connection to Bruce, I mean. Does it worry you that your association with him makes you… makes you more of a target?”
Comprehension dawned. Barbara took a deep breath. “I’m used to taking a few risks,” she said carefully. “I have a slew of safety precautions, and I’m always on the lookout for new ones, but at the end of the day…”
“At the end of the day,” Selina blurted, “I’m happy to take those same risks. But I don’t know if I can do that where Helena’s concerned.” She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was carefully controlled. “I told Dick before that it was up to Bruce if he wanted the two of us in his life. It’s what I want. But…” She took a deep breath. “I’m not one of you Justice League types, sacrificing my life to save the planet or some garbage like that. But if it comes down to Helena’s life or my hap-” She bit off the words abruptly. “As if I could be ‘happy’ if G-d forbid something happened to her! G-d! I don’t know what to do. I-Shi-!”
“CATWOMAN!”
Silence. Then, a moment later, “Sorry. My last jump was a little short. Good thing I had my whip or things could’ve gotten messy.” She sighed. “Maybe I should stop worrying about how dangerous having Bruce in my life could be, and re-examine myself a little more.”
Barbara waited until she was sure that Selina was finished. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she admitted. “I mean, I know what I want to tell you. Namely, that I can set you up with the best security system money can’t buy-because half of it isn’t on the market yet. Then, I could remind you that Catwoman has made a few enemies also, and that it’s equally likely that Helena could be targeted because of a caper you pulled off years ago. I could go on to point out that with my father being the commissioner-former commissioner now-as well as Batman’s best friend, I was a target long before I ever started going out with Dick Grayson. All of that’s true.” She took a deep breath. “It’s also true that you have a daughter who is barely one year old. And that no security system is impregnable.”
“So you think that I…”
“What I think isn’t important. Not this time.”
“Which means you think I should keep Bruce in our lives,” Selina stated. “But that I’m not exactly being unrealistic given the risks involved.”
It was now Barbara’s turn to pause. “Correct,” She admitted. “One thing, though. If anything were to happen to Helena, and Bruce found out about it? Do you think for one minute that he wouldn’t find whoever was responsible, no matter where they were hiding?”
Selina nodded to herself. Barbara was right. But then she heard herself asking “But would he find them in time?”
Barbara had no answer.
Firefly darted into the shadows when he heard footsteps approaching. He thought he remembered which corridors were under lighter surveillance. They couldn’t thwart him now-he was nearly done.
He held his breath as the orderlies tramped by. Then, after double-checking that the hall was clear, he darted into the stairwell. He emerged, panting, on the third floor. He’d had a busy week, but his preparations were nearly at an end. This was the last device he needed to plant.
His crepe-soled shoes barely audible on the Epoxy flooring as Firefly stole past the administrative offices. In this place, they were sure to be either locked or occupied. No, what he needed was-Perfect! Next to the Men’s room was an unlocked supply cabinet, containing stores of bathroom tissue and paper towels. Safe items. Harmless. Lynns pulled a cell phone out of one pocket, and a wad of plastique out of another. With a speed born of practice, he pried open the phone casing and set about turning the communications device into a rather nasty explosive.
He had it all planned to the last detail. The system was foolproof. Thirty-two cell phones. In two days time, shortly after eleven o’clock at night, as the fireworks festival drew to a close, a routine that he had programmed into the final cell would dial the numbers of two of the other phones. Moments later, two warehouses, which faced each other on opposite sides of the Sprang River would go up in a pyrotechnic extravaganza. Five minutes after the first detonations, the second pair would lend their flames to the display. Five minutes after that-the third. And so on, until, forty-five minutes after the beginning of his display, Arkham would glow-a flaming beacon in the night sky. For once, this dull, dreary, depressing hellhole would brighten the countenances of all that beheld it. It would be glorious. It would be stupendous. It would be-
“What are you doing?”
The thin nasal voice startled him and he quickly shoved the phone into the middle of the neatly-stacked rolls of toilet paper. No! He was so close…
“Who are you?”
Shakily, Firefly turned around.
Jeremiah Arkham sniffed. “Why, Garfield. I must say, I’m surprised to see you here. Came back on your own, did you?” He brandished a long stun baton. “My office, Garfield. I’ll have the orderlies collect you from there.” His eyes narrowed. “What were you doing, poking about in there?”
Lynns didn’t answer.
“No matter,” Arkham sniffed again. “I’m sure security will be able to deal with it momentarily. Shall we?”
Firefly thought furiously. If he could only program this last device, it would all be worth it. He just needed a minute. He let his shoulders slump in apparent defeat as he preceded Arkham down the corridor. As he neared the door to the stairwell, he quickened his pace. Before the administrator could react, the arsonist had pushed open the door and dashed down two flights of stairs.
He emerged in the medium security section. Lynns grit his teeth. He didn’t have much time. He had to program the cell phone number into the dialer file. He could worry about the timer later. He pulled out his own personal cell. All the other phone numbers were stored here. The last one was 555-1… what was it? 555-1…
“There he is!” Two guards came charging toward him.
Lynns turned to flee. All at once, he remembered the number! Barely paying attention to where he was going, he typed as he ran. They were gaining on him, but he had the number keyed. Now if he could just…
He pitched forward suddenly as his feet encountered an uneven patch of flooring. The phone slipped out of his hand and Lynns landed heavily upon it. The guards were there immediately.
One of them nudged him with his foot. “Get up. Now.”
Lynns struggled painfully to comply. He managed to rise to one knee, and then reached to retrieve the phone. He blinked. His jaw went slack. No… no, it couldn’t be! When he’d landed on the phone, he’d somehow enabled the program and the phone was now dialing the other numb-
“I said get up!” The guard nudged him again, harder.
Lynns rolled and sprang to his feet. “We have to get out of here! Now, before this place goes up in smoke!” He’d meant to call in an anonymous warning just before he ignited the first warehouses. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! It wasn’t…
The other guard hauled him up by his shirtfront. “Shut up! Quit raving! Now, we’re going to take a little walk to…”
“Hey!” A voice shouted from further down the hallway. “Look at that! There’s a warehouse fire on the Sprang! Wait a second… there’s two of ‘em!”
“I know, you idiot!” Lynns screamed. “And we’re next! Take me to Doctor Arkham! He’ll believe me! We have to evacuate!” There was still time. If he could just get back to the supply cabinet and disarm the phone. “I want to talk to Arkham!”
The other patients were waking up now, adding their shrieks to his.
“There’s another one!” The voice at the window called.
Lynns froze. Another… but it hadn’t been five minutes yet. It couldn’t have been... “Oh. My. G-d.” He whispered. “They’re going off too soon.” Panic gave him strength. He twisted out of the guard’s grasp, tearing the shirt as he did. He raced back up the stairs. He had to get to the cabinet, FAST!
One floor up, he was just rounding the bend to his destination when he heard an all-too-familiar ring tone. He shrank back in horror. It was too late…
In the Scituate-an area once known colloquially as the ‘Sports Quarter’, Batman listened attentively to the conversation coming through over a small transmitter. The tip he’d received from one of his regular sources had been good. The Gotham Knights pitcher was indeed being pressured to throw the upcoming game.
The Dark Knight set his jaw firmly. Protection rackets… blackmail… he had relatively low tolerance for such things.
“Batman!” Oracle’s voice practically shrieked in his ear. “Drop what you’re doing and get to Arkham, stat!”
“What?”
“Turn on the radio. Any station-it doesn’t matter. The warehouse district is in flames and… Batman… so’s the asylum.” Her voice faltered. “Dick… Arkham’s burning as we speak, and I-I haven’t heard any reports yet to confirm who’s made it out.”
Dick felt as though he’d been sucker-punched. “Copy that, Oracle,” he said faintly. “I’m on my way.”
I’m coming, Bruce. Hang on. I’m coming…