POI Batman crossover fic #3: Hospitality
TITLE: Hospitality
AUTHOR: whomii2
DISCLAIMER: do not own
SUMMARY: John asks for Bruce's help when Harold is injured
Reese had made a mistake. Worse yet, it was Finch who paid the price. Harold had been “babysitting” their number while Reese sought to neutralize the threat against him. Unfortunately, their number wasn’t quite the innocent victim they thought. By the time Reese realized they had been played it was almost too late. He was able to stop the Number, but not before Finch had been shot by the man he thought they should be protecting.
The injury was severe and well beyond John’s emergency medical knowledge. He had called Dr. Tillman to the safe house to help stabilize Harold because he knew he could rely on her discretion. She had raised an eyebrow when she recognized Finch, but said nothing as she quickly set to work. For his part, Reese didn’t question why she remembered a patient she had seen briefly several months ago. Instead, Reese made a call to the one person he thought would be most able to help in this situation.
After hearing Dr. Tillman’s assessment of Finch’s condition and ability to travel, Bruce Wayne told John that he would have a medical team pick up Reese and Finch and transport them by helicopter to a private clinic where Finch could undergo his surgery covertly.
The surgery went as well as could be expected, given the severity of the injuries. Once Harold was stabilized and no longer needed round the clock intensive care, he was moved to a room in Wayne manner that Alfred had prepared. Much of the sophisticated medical equipment had been used in the past when Bruce was recovering from injuries sustained as Batman. The monitoring equipment would keep track of Harold's condition and alert the household if or when he finally emerged from his coma. Away from the prying eyes of the medical professionals John took up a vigil at Harold's bedside, holding the other man's hand in the hope that somehow in his comatose state he would still know that he wasn't alone. John was afraid that if he looked away or let go that his partner and friend might slip away from him forever. Even Wayne's money hadn't been able to ensure Reese unlimited access to Finch in the clinic, and his presence might have actually hindered Finch's treatment considering the flurry of activity following the surgery. So between brief visits at Harold's bedside John had been left to haunt the nearby hallways, gaunt and hollow eyed from lack of sleep. Now that Harold was in the manor John wasn't going to let anything keep him from his bedside. John had even been willing to bunk on the floor by Finch’s bed, but had finally conceded to using a cot placed in the same room (he could ignore Bruce’s orders, but couldn’t handle Alfred’s distress at the thought of a guest in the manor sleeping on the floor)
Finally the day came when his waiting was rewarded, as the monitors signaled that Harold was finally waking up. Harold stirred in bed and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times before focusing on the figure at his bedside and whispered “John?” Reese choked up when Harold continued “Are you...alright?.” Harold's gaze slowly drifted to where Bruce was lurking at the foot of his bed. Any comments Harold might have made on Bruce's appearance were interrupted when Alfred handed him a glass of water. Harold took a few sips of water and then with a smile at his friends faded back into a restful sleep.
John bowed his head over their joined hands and quietly wept in relief, all the worrying and anguish of the past few days having taken its toll. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. John knew that this had been difficult for Bruce as well. There were so few people who knew and accepted all facets of the complicated crime fighter. So few around whom Bruce could be himself (either self) without masks. While John had kept his vigil, Bruce had taken to doing extra patrols of Gotham. If he wanted to work off his frustration by pummeling evildoers John was all for it.
Alfred offered to keep watch as he started to shoo the other two from the room. “Perhaps you gentlemen might take this opportunity for a shower and a quick nap. You know Master Finch will be upset if he thinks you aren't taking care of yourselves, and the last thing you would want to do is worry him.” With relief the two caved in to Alfred's demands, knowing he was right and that Harold would be distressed if he thought he was the cause of their current condition. Besides, Harold would be in good hands with Alfred to fuss over him.
During the early days of his recovery Finch spent most of his time sleeping, with the occasional bathroom break and meal. John would sit by his bed, reading him poetry or passages from some of his favorite books and reassuring the man that the Numbers were in good hands. Nightwing had been kind enough to step in while they were away, and Oracle had taken on Harold's role of liaison with The Machine and tech support for Dick while he was in New York. During Harold's frequent naps John would prowl the mansion, trying to ferret out all the secret passages, or head down to the Batcave to monitor Bruce on his patrols or simply harass the man if he was present. John and Bruce started having regular sparring matches to work off some of John's restless energy. John knew that he was quite good at hand-to-hand combat, but there was good and then there was Batman. Still, he liked to think that he challenged the other man at least a little, and the sharpening of John's skills from the matches would be helpful when they resumed working the Numbers.
As Harold grew stronger John began to wheel him downstairs to Bruce's library, and after Harold chose a book would then wheel him to the solarium where he could read in the sun for several hours. Later in the day Alfred would bring out tea and crumpets. During the time Harold was allowed on his laptop (because they all knew he would work himself into a relapse if left to his own devices) Oracle would apprise him of how things were going in New York, or the two would cyberchat about the latest malware or viruses making the rounds and what countermeasures were most effective. Harold dearly wanted to visit the Batcave and look over the advanced computer systems there, but John put his foot down. The Batcave was much too cold and damp for Harold in his current condition. Bruce admired John's fortitude and quickly made his escape to the cave before Harold could turn his pleading puppy eyes on him!
Finally the day came when Finch was fully recovered, and he and Reese were ready to return to New York and resume their work with the numbers. John had taken an afternoon to get a car and carry out some errands in preparation for their departure. After wishing his guests goodbye, Bruce headed down to the Batcave, all the while thinking that the manor would seem somewhat empty with only himself and Alfred in residence. He whiled away some time updating his files with information from his most recent patrols before heading upstairs to change - playboy Bruce Wayne had a charity dinner to attend. His brief bout of melancholy was dispersed when he glanced out his bedroom window and noticed that his friends had left him a “gift” - a whole flock of garish pink plastic flamingos scattered drunkenly across his lawn. For one of the few times in his adult life Bruce Wayne, the real Bruce Wayne, laughed.
AUTHOR: whomii2
DISCLAIMER: do not own
SUMMARY: John asks for Bruce's help when Harold is injured
Reese had made a mistake. Worse yet, it was Finch who paid the price. Harold had been “babysitting” their number while Reese sought to neutralize the threat against him. Unfortunately, their number wasn’t quite the innocent victim they thought. By the time Reese realized they had been played it was almost too late. He was able to stop the Number, but not before Finch had been shot by the man he thought they should be protecting.
The injury was severe and well beyond John’s emergency medical knowledge. He had called Dr. Tillman to the safe house to help stabilize Harold because he knew he could rely on her discretion. She had raised an eyebrow when she recognized Finch, but said nothing as she quickly set to work. For his part, Reese didn’t question why she remembered a patient she had seen briefly several months ago. Instead, Reese made a call to the one person he thought would be most able to help in this situation.
After hearing Dr. Tillman’s assessment of Finch’s condition and ability to travel, Bruce Wayne told John that he would have a medical team pick up Reese and Finch and transport them by helicopter to a private clinic where Finch could undergo his surgery covertly.
The surgery went as well as could be expected, given the severity of the injuries. Once Harold was stabilized and no longer needed round the clock intensive care, he was moved to a room in Wayne manner that Alfred had prepared. Much of the sophisticated medical equipment had been used in the past when Bruce was recovering from injuries sustained as Batman. The monitoring equipment would keep track of Harold's condition and alert the household if or when he finally emerged from his coma. Away from the prying eyes of the medical professionals John took up a vigil at Harold's bedside, holding the other man's hand in the hope that somehow in his comatose state he would still know that he wasn't alone. John was afraid that if he looked away or let go that his partner and friend might slip away from him forever. Even Wayne's money hadn't been able to ensure Reese unlimited access to Finch in the clinic, and his presence might have actually hindered Finch's treatment considering the flurry of activity following the surgery. So between brief visits at Harold's bedside John had been left to haunt the nearby hallways, gaunt and hollow eyed from lack of sleep. Now that Harold was in the manor John wasn't going to let anything keep him from his bedside. John had even been willing to bunk on the floor by Finch’s bed, but had finally conceded to using a cot placed in the same room (he could ignore Bruce’s orders, but couldn’t handle Alfred’s distress at the thought of a guest in the manor sleeping on the floor)
Finally the day came when his waiting was rewarded, as the monitors signaled that Harold was finally waking up. Harold stirred in bed and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times before focusing on the figure at his bedside and whispered “John?” Reese choked up when Harold continued “Are you...alright?.” Harold's gaze slowly drifted to where Bruce was lurking at the foot of his bed. Any comments Harold might have made on Bruce's appearance were interrupted when Alfred handed him a glass of water. Harold took a few sips of water and then with a smile at his friends faded back into a restful sleep.
John bowed his head over their joined hands and quietly wept in relief, all the worrying and anguish of the past few days having taken its toll. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. John knew that this had been difficult for Bruce as well. There were so few people who knew and accepted all facets of the complicated crime fighter. So few around whom Bruce could be himself (either self) without masks. While John had kept his vigil, Bruce had taken to doing extra patrols of Gotham. If he wanted to work off his frustration by pummeling evildoers John was all for it.
Alfred offered to keep watch as he started to shoo the other two from the room. “Perhaps you gentlemen might take this opportunity for a shower and a quick nap. You know Master Finch will be upset if he thinks you aren't taking care of yourselves, and the last thing you would want to do is worry him.” With relief the two caved in to Alfred's demands, knowing he was right and that Harold would be distressed if he thought he was the cause of their current condition. Besides, Harold would be in good hands with Alfred to fuss over him.
During the early days of his recovery Finch spent most of his time sleeping, with the occasional bathroom break and meal. John would sit by his bed, reading him poetry or passages from some of his favorite books and reassuring the man that the Numbers were in good hands. Nightwing had been kind enough to step in while they were away, and Oracle had taken on Harold's role of liaison with The Machine and tech support for Dick while he was in New York. During Harold's frequent naps John would prowl the mansion, trying to ferret out all the secret passages, or head down to the Batcave to monitor Bruce on his patrols or simply harass the man if he was present. John and Bruce started having regular sparring matches to work off some of John's restless energy. John knew that he was quite good at hand-to-hand combat, but there was good and then there was Batman. Still, he liked to think that he challenged the other man at least a little, and the sharpening of John's skills from the matches would be helpful when they resumed working the Numbers.
As Harold grew stronger John began to wheel him downstairs to Bruce's library, and after Harold chose a book would then wheel him to the solarium where he could read in the sun for several hours. Later in the day Alfred would bring out tea and crumpets. During the time Harold was allowed on his laptop (because they all knew he would work himself into a relapse if left to his own devices) Oracle would apprise him of how things were going in New York, or the two would cyberchat about the latest malware or viruses making the rounds and what countermeasures were most effective. Harold dearly wanted to visit the Batcave and look over the advanced computer systems there, but John put his foot down. The Batcave was much too cold and damp for Harold in his current condition. Bruce admired John's fortitude and quickly made his escape to the cave before Harold could turn his pleading puppy eyes on him!
Finally the day came when Finch was fully recovered, and he and Reese were ready to return to New York and resume their work with the numbers. John had taken an afternoon to get a car and carry out some errands in preparation for their departure. After wishing his guests goodbye, Bruce headed down to the Batcave, all the while thinking that the manor would seem somewhat empty with only himself and Alfred in residence. He whiled away some time updating his files with information from his most recent patrols before heading upstairs to change - playboy Bruce Wayne had a charity dinner to attend. His brief bout of melancholy was dispersed when he glanced out his bedroom window and noticed that his friends had left him a “gift” - a whole flock of garish pink plastic flamingos scattered drunkenly across his lawn. For one of the few times in his adult life Bruce Wayne, the real Bruce Wayne, laughed.