Fic: Public Enemies - Part Three
PUBLIC ENEMIES - Part Three
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Meanwhile in the sewers below, the sound of running water and the sharp sounds of drips from broken pipes echo through the tunnels. In a large chamber five tunnels converge, the water running down into a main reservoir like waterfalls, churning where they hit the surface, spreading out into a calm underground lake, manmade and square. The rumble and groan of rock moving against rock reverberates throughout the chamber. A slab of rock that used to make part of the world above now sits in the water, leaning heavily against a mound of rock and crystallised chemicals that is made by this strange, dank world below. Then it trembles again, the same reverberating groan of rock against rock, the noise echoes through the chamber until it finally moves, flipping over and away to reveal Superman pushing up out of the thigh deep water. He collapses over the stone in front of him, one of the two stones he had felt weighing against him, the other having fallen on him when the explosions had thrown them into the sewers…..
His strength is slightly better but he can feel the Kryptonite’s cold near his heart, flashes of pain that make his whole body clench and tremble, that leave him breathless and each time a little weaker than before.
When the pain ebbs, he looks around, knowing the pain will return yet again. His eyes widen and suddenly fear is more real and more biting than the pain as he looks upon Batman’s body, limp and floating face down in the water. He sees that Batman’s upper body is perched on another rock and hopes that it is enough to keep him free of the water. “Batman,” he breathes and he can’t stay there staring any longer, he has to know. He pushes himself up and wades through the water to the body of his friend.
He pulls Batman’s lifeless body from the water and turns him over on to his back against the rock. His hands fall to Batman’s shoulders, “It’s not ending here, I won’t let it,” he swears and suddenly Batman’s coughing, water flowing over his lips, thank God he’s alive.
Superman puts a hand to his neck and Batman’s body jerks to the side. Superman’s not sure if it’s away from his touch or just to move onto his side so he can choke up more water.
Only conscious mere minutes and already he’s talking, that’s Batman. “I thought…” and there’s a pause while he chokes some more but Superman doesn’t interrupt because hearing his voice is the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. He hangs, waiting for him to continue, waiting to hear more and he’s not disappointed, “I was supposed to rescue you,” Batman finishes, throat sounding raw. He’s not sure he believes that was what Batman was going to say originally but can’t fathom what it might have been so he lets it go.
“There might still be time for that,” Superman jokes, more serious than he likes to admit, putting a hand to his chest as another wave of pain hits him and suddenly Batman is up, the lines of his body tense, watching but not touching. Superman continues, “Can we get to your cave from here?” he asks, and trying not to let on just how close to death he is.
Batman turns, “Eventually,” he says concisely and that’s never a good thing. A man of few words is not Batman, that’s an angry man, an upset man and Superman tries to ignore the thin tight line of his mouth as he reaches out to take the arm that Batman is offering. He can do no more than hold his hand though, his strength slipping away, and he’s thinking maybe that’s not so bad, when he feels Batman pull his arm across his shoulders and puts an arm around his waist. Batman pulls upright, dragging Superman with him in the process, and he can hear the tense gasps that he makes showing how much effort it takes but he still marvels at the strength in this man who is only human and yet so much more. He leans into Batman’s body, relishing the heat that he feels. He looks up into Batman’s face when he hears his voice, “Time for you to see my side of the world.”
And they are moving, dragged along in Batman’s wake as always. Batman turns on a torch that Superman didn’t even see him reach for, moving like he knows where he is and choosing a tunnel with determination and he hopes it’s not a bluff because he doesn’t want to die here. The light shines over the rats squirming and running at the side of the tunnel, as they run for the shadows that make them feel safe and he thinks about Batman lurking in the shadows and finds it depressive.
He speaks more to try and lighten his mood, and maybe a little because he wants to hear Batman’s voice again, “Good company you keep,” he teases with a smile, but Batman doesn’t respond, he gasps instead with a trembling breath that tells of the pain he must be in. Superman puts a hand to Batman’s chest to keep him upright as Batman drops the torch into the murky waters. He feels his hand rise and fall as Batman’s takes a deep steadying breath and then Batman is flinching again and moving away from Superman only to fall to his knees, gasping in pain.
Superman takes the steps necessary to reach him and puts a hand on his shoulder hesitantly, that’s twice he’s flinched away from his touch and he’s trying not to let on how much it hurts and hoping that he allows this. He kneels next to him in the water, “Come on Batman, stay with me.”
Don’t leave me now.
Batman gives another grunt of pain and slowly gets to his feet and yet again Superman is in awe of his resolve. They lean into each other as they turn down another tunnel and then there is a door. As they pass through it Batman starts talking, “You know who I was thinking about the other day?”
It’s apropos to anything and throws Superman, but he answers anyway, “Who?”
“Magpie.”
He’s confused, doesn’t know where this conversation is going and wonders if it’s the conversation or if he’s maybe losing it a bit, “The criminal?” he queries as Batman helps him down a flight of stairs and at least this part of the sewer is dry.
“Do we know another Magpie?” Batman asks, like this is a normal conversation.
He’s feeling a little lost but he finds talking about something else takes his mind off the pain and he doesn’t really want to stop, so to keep the conversation going he asks, “Whatever happened to her?”
“She died,” and the way he says it, like he was there, like it was something personal piques Superman’s interest.
“No, you sure?” Superman prods, hoping for more information because he knows how private Batman can be and knows he won’t ask outright because that’s an understanding they’ve always had. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.
“Reasonably,” Batman says and Superman knows what he means. He’s lost count of how many times past adversaries have a habit of popping up again like ghosts only to learn he missed the first time and sometimes he wonders if he has actually killed a single soul and regrets every guilty thought he endured afterwards, only to find out later it was for nothing.
“Why is it the good villains never die?”
“What the hell are good villains?” Batman says and there is the familiar bite to his words that make Superman feel better somehow. Suddenly the tunnel ends with an electrified metal grating across their route, the warning sign attached to it making the dangers clear.
“Can you do it?” Batman asks, his voice soft with worry again. Superman knows if he says no that Batman would find another way but this is obviously the quickest and Batman falling to his knees in pain, face distorted in agony is still fresh in his mind and he wants Batman to get aid as fast as he can, Superman knows he can’t and won’t risk Batman’s life anymore than he has too.
“Sure,” he says, stepping away from Batman’s warm body. Pain grips his heart and he can feel Batman’s hand across his back, can sense him about to find another way so he looks up at him with an easy smile and says, “Bend steel and all that.” He straightens and walks towards the grating, using all his focus not to let the excruciating pain show as he walks up the steps. He stumbles into the wall but rights himself and carries on before Batman can stop him. He falls onto the grating, gripping it in his hands as electricity falls all over his body and he knows he hasn’t got long, that black void is knocking on his door again.
Superman leans back, throwing his body towards the stairs, pulling the grating towards him. The grate bends and as electricity arches over it Superman can feel it, like barbs of pain all over his body until the grate suddenly tears away to sail over his head and without the pull of the grate, he can no longer hold his weight as he falls and slides to the base of the steps he just climbed.
Batman is there, “John!,” he calls, a whisper full of emotion, as he falls to kneel beside Superman, an arm across his back and a hand on his bicep to support Superman as he lurches to his knees. He should be surprised that Batman knows his alias but really he’s not because of course Batman knows, Batman knows everything, well almost everything.
All he can think to say is, “tickles,” still feeling the residues of the electrical currents course through his body, little jabs of pain at every nerve ending they find and suddenly he’s back down again. It’s just Batman’s strong capable hands that stop his face from landing in the sediment that spreads over the floor of the sewer, but he can still smell it and he’s thankful he was spared that.
Suddenly there is the sound of a gun being cocked and loaded and a carefully clipped voice calling out of the shadows, “Halt. Identify yourselves.” Before Superman can respond he feels Batman tense at the sound of the gun and relax at the sound of the voice and figures it must be okay.
“Alfred it’s me,” Batman says, deep and exhausted.
“Rodney. How many times? It is Radek,” and now he can detect the foreign accent, middle European is all he can figure in his current state and he’s trying to figure out how, in the entire sewer system they manage to bump into someone Batman knows, no, Rodney. This person knows the man behind the mask and he’s given him a name, Rodney. It sounds like Batman is safe now and with someone who will make sure Batman’s okay, so maybe he can finally rest his eyes. He closes them, still listening to the voices around him.
“Whatever, and I’ve told you before, It’s Master McKay.”
“Only in front of company, yes? And not if I can get away with it,” the stranger answers.
Superman is trying to figure out if Rodney is Batman’s real name but still doesn’t know who Alfred, Radek, and McKay are and wonders exactly how many people are down here. Thinking hurts and he doesn’t fight too hard when oblivion takes him.
John’s eyes flutter open, his throat making disappointed moans on behalf of his body while his mind is still too wrapped up in sleep to care. As wakefulness starts to creep into the darkness, memories and senses start to return too. He’d been dying, Kryptonite embedded in his chest, near the heart. He slapped a hand to the wound and found it closed, had he been too late? Had the wound closed over the shard, encasing it inside as John’s body died around it? But he felt okay, energy levels back up. Batman must have removed it. He relaxed, his senses moving beyond his body, feels the softness of the sheets below him, the mattress below them embracing him, his heavy head sinking into the soft pillows. He looks down to find an embroidered throw, decorated in rich gold’s and reds and looking further finds himself in a large double bed, rich dark wood that sweeps up into a canopy, edged in heavy curtains that match the throw. The room is huge and screams two single words, expensive and comfortable. A large chair that looks as comfortable as the bed, big paned windows that stretch out from the floor so high that you have to look to check they don’t reach the ceiling. The curtains are also pulled back on the windows, showing a small balcony, only the sky and treetops visible from this angle. He can’t figure out where this is, he knows damn well it’s not his home and he can’t see Batman in here, for starters it’s too bright for a man who loves the shadows.
Sighting his uniform laid out over a chaise-long, and pulling back the covers, only to realise he is naked, so goes straight to his uniform and dresses, feeling less vulnerable in the red and blue suit. While dressing his attention is distracted by photo-frames over the mantelpiece of a huge fireplace, well that rules out the hotel option he was toying with. Walking over to the fireplace, hoping just to find a clue as to his whereabouts, but now he’s really confused. As an investigative reporter he knows the who’s who of this town and he would swear that the face looking back at him from the frame is none other than the millionaire, Dr Rodney McKay, he’s seen this face countless times through work at the Daily Planet and that is definitely him.
While he’s trying to figure out where Batman and Rodney McKay would spend enough time together for them to become friends his memory supplies the reason. A voice talking to Batman but calling him Rodney, there’s another picture of Rodney, a full body shot and he can see the basis of Batman. The body is not rippled muscle that he’s used to but there are muscles under the tight t-shirt sleeves and the stocky body could well hold the strength he knows Batman has. He’s studying the photo, looking into blue eyes. Batman’s mask has eye shields that shine white and he figures he knows why because one look at those blue eyes and he would know them anywhere, regardless of any mask. He runs a finger against the next picture, a close up of Rodney with the light hitting him in the face and the light makes his eyes iridescent.
Further along is a picture of a beautiful blonde with a baby in her arms. She is smiling and it lights up her face, she has the same blue eyes and they are alight with joy. And John has no doubt that the baby in her arms is hers, and he wonders if he is seeing the resemblance of the eyes out of hope or if Rodney is the father of that baby. Suddenly, he is reminded of the story he was told, that Batman used to have a partner, a beautiful female partner. He touches her face with his finger, wondering if her name is Robin.
“That’ll be Jeannie, smiles like the sun, that one,” says a deep Scottish brogue behind him.
His heart is in his mouth as he turns. He has the hearing of a bat, but only if he’s paying attention and he was lost in thought here on the mantelpiece. There is a man, stocky build, heavier than Rodney but strangely similar. Blue, blue eyes but a full head of hair that’s as black as the night.
“Did I make you jump, son?” he asked, seeking forgiveness by the lilt of his voice.
“No, no….well, yes actually but it’s alright,” John smiles, feeling comfortable around him already. He wasn’t quite sure how to proceed, the man didn’t seem surprised to find Superman in Rodney McKay’s bedroom but that didn’t mean he knew about Batman. He figured he must know Rodney though so he’d be okay starting there, “You a friend of Rodney’s?”
“Oh, aye. I’ve known Rodney for years. Of course, I may have walked away if I’d known that I’d spend my time stitching him and his friends up. What is it with you Superheroes and your death wishes?” He held out his hand, “Doctor Beckett, call me Carson.” Well it seemed he did know about Batman.
John took his hand and shook it, a dry hand with a firm shake, “Doctor?”
“Aye, who do you think removed that shard of Kryptonite lad. I put it in a lead box but Rodney’s already destroyed it, between you and me he seemed to take more enjoyment out of that than he usually does. I think he may be developing an enjoyment of explosives.” He had taken John by the arm, leading him to that big comfy chair and pushing him down into it, “Sit down lad. You look as if you’re fully recovered but I just want to check you over before you go out there again.”
“I’m okay,” John said, but still found himself helping the doctor remove his shirt. He looked over Carson’s shoulder as he worked, John’s eyes flowing over the pictures. “You know Jeannie, too?” he asked.
Carson’s eyes shot a look at his face, an instant of intense scrutiny before he returned to his work on John’s chest, talking into his shoulder, “Aye, I know Jeannie.” There was a heavy pause, followed by, “You?”
“No. I just know Batman. Haven’t even met Rodney yet, well not while I was conscious anyway.”
Carson gave him a quick confused look but seemed to figure it was best not to ask. “Well, I’d best take you to Rodney. He and Radek are working in the lab.”
“Is Jeannie his sister?” John asked, just needing to know.
Carson studied him for a long time before he answered. “Jeannie was his sister; she fought by his side as Robin. She truly led a double life, unlike Rodney who lives, breathes Batman. Jeannie was removed from the spotlight at an early age, leaving Rodney to bear the brunt of it. You know his story no doubt?” he asked, John nodded his agreement; everyone had heard how Rodney’s parents were gunned down, leaving two orphans behind. “Yes, of course you have, everybody knows the story,” John frowned at the bitterness in Carson’s voice but kept quiet as he continued, “and everyone thinks that means they own a piece of him, not everyone knows about the pain, the driving need in Rodney to save anyone else from having to deal with that suffocating pain. Pain that consumes you,” Carson shook his head, shaking off the anger like rain, “Jeannie met someone and married them. She fell pregnant. She walked away from Robin, never looked back. Rodney has a hard time understanding how she can do that, they haven’t spoken in years but he’ll keep her secret, which means he has to keep his own. If anyone learns who he is, it puts her in danger and he would die before he did that.” Carson looked John in the eye as he stressed those last words and then he continued more hesitantly, still looking him in the eye. “Don’t mention her to Rodney, it makes him do irrational things.” Carson held his gaze, not at all intimidated by the fact John could literally kill him with a glare.
“I won’t say a word, and no one will learn his secret from me,” John said, clearly and sincerely. Carson watched him for a moment before nodding.
“Come on, I’ll take you to them. If you haven’t met Rodney before, wait till you see him and Radek together. It’s quite an experience,” Carson said, a playful smirk and a mischievous light in his eyes.
John got up and followed him, still feeling like he hadn’t actually woken up and he was still dreaming, everything had a surreal edge to it. Carson took him down wide halls, with plush carpets under foot that put a spring in your step, wanted or not. They descended a wide staircase leading to a large foyer. Not a soul in sight. Carson must have read his mind, “You don’t have to worry about anyone seeing you, Rodney only has the staff in once a week unless he has a function on. He doesn’t play well with others.”
That made John grin, something familiar. Nothing here linked to the man he knew and he wondered which one truly wore the mask as he followed Carson into the library. Carson walked straight over to the desk, picking up the red phone he dialled a number and then hung up. A section of the bookcase slid aside and John grinned again. Clever. Here was a piece of Batman. Carson indicated for him to lead. “I’ve got to get back to my day job. Tell him he owes me the good brandy. Just follow the tunnel straight and it will lead you to him. It was good to meet you.”
John shook his hand again, “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
Carson nodded, “Pleasure son, try not to make it a habit, eh?” He grinned and walked away.
John went through the door in the wall, which closed behind him. He followed it down and it gradually changed from panelled walls to rough rock face, the light fading to a hint of blue that bled into the tunnel from some unknown source. As he walked through he started to feel more relaxed, surroundings started to feel more like the Batcave, more like the man he knew. He started to hear voices and then the tunnel opened up onto a balcony that overlooked a laboratory, with the bat cave he had stood in yesterday at the rear. Had it really only been that long.
He looked down to see a man standing behind Rodney. That must be Radek. He was just putting the last of the bandages on Rodney’s back. John winced at the vivid bruises that littered his torso. Rodney looked back at Radek without looking him in the eye, looking vulnerable in his own skin. “Thank you,” he mumbled as he got up, walking over to a pile of black cloth. As he pulled it up, Superman realised it was his suit. John watched as Rodney climbed into his Batman suit. John always thought the whole thing was sculptured but looking at McKay’s broad shoulders and wide back and what it tapered into, visible even in boxer shorts when he bent over, makes his mouth go dry and if that suit is sculptured then he thinks he may be looking at the master mould. Rodney is dressed now, the mask hanging around his neck and down his back and looking at him, in stylised black, with the bruises along his ribs hidden away, John realises that he never saw below this skin before today.
He’s only just now realising that underneath that outfit lies flesh and blood that has no defences but those he makes himself. Unlike most of the heroes and villains who are made, who have this life forced onto them, he realises, shockingly, that Batman made himself. He could have led a normal life, and John smiles because he can’t imagine Rodney being normal, and he knows that amongst everyday mortals Rodney still would have soared above them, would have stood out in any crowd.
To stand by and watch an innocent be harmed is impossible for Rodney as it is for Batman and he can’t see him ever backing down from anybody or anything. Rodney’s a hero, but to think he chose this life, a lonely life of shadows and pain but then from the recesses of his mind he remembers; he saw him one night and the image has always stayed with him. High on the rooftops of Gotham, looking up at a full moon and he looked so sad as he murmured “Will you dance with the devil in the pale moonlight,” so quietly that only John’s super hearing managed to catch it and he’s never figured out what that means but he knows it cuts through Batman’s heart because he could hear the rawness of it in just a whisper. So maybe he was made and John’s not sure he wants to know how but he’s betting it started with the death of his parents.
He listens to Rodney and Radek arguing;
“I am just saying that we have twenty-five bedrooms and you put him in your bed,” Radek says, not looking Rodney in the eye.
For that matter, Rodney is not looking Radek in the eye when he answers either, “I didn’t want to bother having to reset another bed. I try to save you work and this is the thanks I get.”
“I do not change bed clothes, Rodney,” and then in a complete change of subject, or maybe not, “John is a very good looking man, is he not?” Radek asks apropos of anything and his voice is anything but casual. John finds himself holding his breath, waiting for Rodney to answer but all he does is glare at Radek until he fumbles the tweezers he was trying to lower carefully into the sterilization unit and they drop with a clang and a couple of pings as they bounce on the metal surface. He notices Rodney’s mouth curl up into a smug grin as he lowers his face to hide it from Radek and John can’t help the low chuckle that escapes him.
He sees both of them snap to the noise and watches as Rodney’s face blushes red while his eyes show only a depth of vulnerability that makes John want to hold him and tell him everything will be fine. He knows that’s a bad idea seeing as Batman is straight so he just carries on as if his arms don’t already feel the loss of something they will never have. “So, what were you glaring at poor Radek about now?”
Rodney waves a hand in the air and says casually, “McFumbles strikes again,” and it totally belies the blush in his cheeks and John’s trying not to smile about the fact that the ‘Dark Knight of Gotham City’ is blushing like a thirteen year old girl, even if he doesn’t quite understand why.
He could go find the stairs but he can’t be bothered so he just flies down to them, plus he knows it annoys Batman. “Hello, Rodney,” he says softly, and it seems strange to use his given name but it rolls of the tongue better than Batman does. Batman does a double take and then Rodney smiles, “Hey.”
John looks over at Radek and says hi, anything to distract from what that smile does to Rodney’s face….and what it does to him.
Cont/d.......
Chapter Four