Fic: The Way Back 7/?: Where My Weakness Lies/ PG-13
Previous chapters:
Prologue: In the Middle of the Night
Chapter 1: Giving In
Chapter 2: Torn In Half
Chapter 3: Hurting
Chapter 4: Keeping Afloat
Chapter 5: Patterns
Chapter 6: Chasing Demons
There's a warrior and a victim living deep
Inside all of us.
We have to choose to fight or surrender
When the world beats us up.
I know where my weakness lies,
but I know it's a fight that I can win.
I may get broken trying to get up
But I can't wait to start again.
Kris Bergsnes, Lee Thomas Miller, “Brand New Me”
Thanks to Kathy, Sara, Debbie, Juliet, and aiyokusama for the beta!
Thanks to lucius_complex of multilingual for Cantonese help (a translation appears at the end of the chapter).
Thanks to dungeonwriter for helping me understand federal sentencing guidelines.
“Brand New Me” written by Kris Bergsnes and Lee Thomas Miller. Recorded by John Michael Montgomery on his Brand New Me album (Atlantic, 2000).
Chapter 7-Where My Weakness Lies
Bruce had seen Alex serious, apologetic, stubborn, and-very occasionally-irritated. This was the first time that he had ever seen him outraged. “Confirm that for me, once more, please,” he said evenly. “Krait appeared at your door without prior warning, and without a preliminary meeting in a more neutral setting.”
Bruce nodded, even as he felt his face grow hot. He wasn’t used to having other people fight these battles for him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
Alex pursed his lips. “Excuse me one moment, please.” He picked up the telephone on his desk and punched in a number. “Sylvia Mackay’s office, please.” He waited a moment in silence. “Yes, I’m calling for Sylvia Mackay. This is Dr. Morgenstern. Well, have her call me back as soon as she comes in.” Whatever the person on the other end of the connection was saying didn’t seem to please him. He took a deep breath. “Then page her. My cell phone is…”
After he’d given his contact information and hung up, he turned back to Bruce. “I don’t know what to say,” he said simply. “What Krait did was completely out of line. It shouldn’t have happened. Period. I’ll be looking for an explanation when the extended care co-ordinator calls me back.”
Bruce leaned forward. “Krait’s behaviour was atypical, then.”
“Absolutely. The first meeting should have either been back at St. Swithin’s when you were on the ward, or at Krait’s office. You are supposed to be meeting with him on a weekly basis, but those meetings are meant to take place in a more professional setting, at least initially. Home visits come later.”
Bruce felt a smile spread across his face. Then, a moment later, a frown replaced it. “Is there a way to prevent home visits altogether?”
Alex started to nod, then reconsidered. “Well. No, not to eliminate them completely, but certainly there’s a way to reduce them. And you already know it, I suspect. Cooperate. No matter how tedious and inane you may find his suggestions during your meetings, don’t let it show. Fall back on your acting abilities if you have to. Go back to-”
“To being ‘affable easygoing Brucie’,” Bruce interrupted with a scowl. “I thought that one of your goals was to reintegrate the different parts of my psyche. Instead, it sounds like you mean me to perpetuate the schism.”
“Acting out a role,” Alex pointed out, “isn’t so much pretending to be what you aren’t, as it is finding those elements within yourself best suited to the task at hand and bringing them to the fore. On a personal note,” he added, “I could easily point out to you that I act somewhat differently at a board meeting than I do in session here; and differently again when my workday is over and I go home to my family. Playing a role doesn’t necessarily have to mean changing-or suppressing-your personality.”
Bruce mulled that over. “Suppose,” he said slowly, “that I don’t follow his suggestions? I don’t mean,” he hastened to add, “that I would deliberately provoke him. But suppose, hypothetically, that he were to once more arrive unexpectedly and I simply… don’t wish to accommodate his visit at that time?”
Alex’s eyebrows drew together. “That’s another thing,” he said. “Krait should be calling to set up these visits, not popping in unannounced. However, to answer your question directly, Bruce, even though you’re out of Arkham, the old paradigm still applies. In other words, the more you work with us… the less you’ll have to. We’re coming up on 30 days since your release. At 60, we can re-evaluate and possibly extend your unsupervised time.
Bruce looked up. “You mean to extend the intervals between… checks,” Bruce surmised. “Twenty minutes instead of fifteen?”
“That’s one option,” Alex agreed. He ignored the sarcasm in Bruce’s tone. “We can also look at scaling back the hours that you need to spend under supervision. Say, 8 AM to 9 PM, as opposed to 7 to 10. Continue to make progress, and we can think about a full day free.
Bruce started to smile. Then, abruptly, the scowl returned. “And if I don’t,” he finished, “I could lose whatever little I’ve gained back. I can’t believe this.” He made no attempt to conceal his anger “You’re saying I have no choice but to work with him, or...”
“You always have a choice,” Alex said. “The same one you’ve had all along. You need to decide for yourself whether staying out of Arkham is worth the cost.” He paused a beat. “I do know that different options have different… prices,” he added, shooting Bruce a meaningful look. “You just need to decide for yourself which bundle works best for you.”
Bruce nodded, still frowning, as he considered Alex’s words. There were a few possibilities that sprang to mind. He could turn fugitive and spend the foreseeable future hiding under a new identity. He could take off in his private jet and retire to some island in the Caribbean. He could return to inpatient status. Or… he could deal with Krait, and therapy, and near-constant surveillance… and the hope of getting back some semblance of his old life. He grimaced. Lying low for a time was one thing, but he wasn’t about to cut and run. He didn’t think he could live with himself if he tried it. The Caribbean would lose its appeal for him inside of a month-and that, too, would be a coward’s choice. Either way, his life-and his family-would be gone. In that light, neither option was acceptable. In no way was he prepared to go back to Arkham or to a hospital psych ward, or even to some quiet rest home upstate. True, in some ways, his life had been easier in Arkham than it was now; but then, since when had he ever wanted things easy? He shook his head slowly. It would be giving up. Worse. It would be failing a course that some of his enemies had stayed. That, he set his jaw grimly, was unacceptable.
Alex was right. He did have options. No, he didn’t like any of them much, but there was still some comfort in having the ability to choose one. And putting up with Krait was his best choice. At least it was for now. Bruce closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded himself once more of how far he’d come in the last year. He wasn’t about to throw everything away because he had a personality conflict with some jumped-up bureaucrat. The courts may have given him control over my circumstances. Only I can give him control over me. And I refuse to give that up.
He opened his eyes and settled back into his chair. “Last week,” he began, “if memory serves, we had begun to discuss one of my blind spots.”
Alex nodded. “You’re not the first person to overlook his own mortality.”
“Particularly,” Bruce said, “when dwelling on the condition is counterproductive…”
“On three,” Batman said between clenched teeth, as he deliberately took out his jumpline and held it before him with his thumb extended, trusting that the woman behind him would understand. “One…”
He and Batgirl moved simultaneously. As the grapnel on the end of his cable wrapped itself around a fire escape, he pressed the release button and rose into the air, flinging batarangs as he ascended. Batgirl crouched low and let fly with several of her own.
Several of the Triad members broke and ran. Their leader, however, stood his ground. “There’s only two of ‘em!” He snapped. “We can take ‘em!”
Batman rolled his eyes. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that line, I’d…”
“Have condo downtown, fancy car, jet, yacht, two… copters and five caves?” Batgirl asked. She ducked a flying kick, grabbed on to the banister railing with both hands, and swung both feet into her opponent’s mid-section. He screamed and crashed heavily down on one knee.
“Your banter’s improving,” Batman shot back, tossing more batarangs. “Been practicing?” He swung to another balcony, then leaped, and caught the railing one story lower. “Hmmm…” He eyed an aluminium-frame lawn-chair speculatively. Then he quickly scaled the balcony, grabbed the chair, and climbed back over. He fired off another cable and then, gripping it between his ankles, dangled upside down. He swung the lawn-chair directly into the head of one of the punks below. The young man dropped. That worked well, he thought. Let’s do it again. He could and did-twice more. The last to fall was the leader. The remaining Triad members bolted.
Batman somersaulted down from his perch. “Don’t forget to frisk ’em,” he said, as he and Batgirl fastened plastic bindings on the wrists and ankles of the fallen.
“Not amateur.” She sounded miffed.
“Hey. Even pros can have off-nights,” he said. “Remind me to tell you someday about the time I forgot to make a back-up copy of a crooked ADA’s confession. And speaking of confessions…” One of the unconscious gangsters was starting to come to. Batman seized him by the shoulders and pulled him upright into a sitting position.
The young man-Dick didn’t think he was much older than twenty-opened bleary eyes which snapped wider instantly at the sight of the cowled visage, scant inches away.
“How much is Cobblepot offering you?”
The captive gulped and let out a strangled cry. “Mng Sik Ying Mun!”
Batman grimaced. He hadn’t spoken Cantonese in a long time. Still, there was always the chance that the punk was telling him the truth, and he really didn’t speak English. He doubted it, though. “Moh Ngak Ngo!” he spat out the syllables. “Lei Sik Meh Yeh?”
If anything, the man looked even more terrified. “Moh Yeh! Moh Yeh!” he whimpered.
You don’t know anything, huh? Well, we’ll just make sure of that. Batman leaned in even closer. “Moh Ngak Ngo!” He repeated in a harsh whisper.
The youth squeezed his eyes shut. “Kau Mang!” He was sobbing now. “Ngo Mng Sik Yeh! Ngo Mng Sik Yeh!*”
He hesitated. It was just barely possible that the young man didn’t have the answers he wanted. And since he and Cass did have a backup plan…
The black-and-whites picked that moment to show up. Two squad cars sealed off the alley and four officers approached.
“They’re all yours,” Batman announced, letting his prisoner drop to the asphalt. “Let’s go, Batgirl.”
Two cables snaked upwards. A moment later, both vigilantes rose into the air. The officers watched them go.
Once up on the rooftop, Batman turned to face his companion. “You got a tracer on one of the ones who cut out?”
Batgirl nodded.
Batman smiled. “Good. Let’s hope it pans out, then.” He’d tagged three of his own, but then, he’d had more practice. “Night’s still young. You take the downtown core. I’ll swing over to Tricorner. We’ll rendezvous at Wayne Tower at midnight.”
“Oracle said you wanted to see me?”
Raven looked up from the writing desk at the costumed vigilante perched on her windowsill.
Come in, Timothy, she projected. I’ve left the balcony door unlocked.
A moment later, she heard his boots land on the concrete flooring outside. He entered the hotel room quickly and shut the door behind him. Once inside, he looked around appreciatively. “Nice place.”
It was of Barbara’s choosing. But it is more than acceptable, she added.
Harrier massaged his temples. “Can we switch to voice?” He asked. “I’ve got a headache.”
Raven nodded. “As you wish. Michael’s mother met with me today.”
“Regarding?”
Raven hesitated. “You asked me some months ago to assist you in training the newer members of the Teen Titans. Michael’s mother is reluctant to allow him to relocate to San Francisco. I concur with her decision, although my reasoning is not hers: she does not wish to be parted from her son at this juncture, while I do not believe that the move would be good for the boy at this time.”
Harrier shifted from one foot to the other. “Look, if you’re backing out-”
“I do not wish to do so. Nor do I consider it advisable. The current Teen Titans roster is lacking in both discipline and cohesion. Timothy,” she added, “I do not mean this to reflect on your ability to lead the team. However your ability to train the team, to enable them to function as a team, falls short of my own. It is not advisable for me to leave Gotham. Therefore, I would propose that the Titans relocate here.”
Harrier blinked. “Here,” he repeated. “To Gotham.”
“The Astral plane has grown turbulent, of late. I would not chance its tides for casual travel. And journey by more conventional means would soon tire the team.”
A polite way to point out that jetsetting across three time zones was going to take it toll sooner rather than later, Harrier reflected. He considered. With Selina out of the picture, Dick could use the backup. And Raven’s points about the Titans were painfully accurate. They were a gang, right now. But they weren’t a team. He and Cassie, as veteran members, had been trying their level best to create one. The problem was that the two of them didn’t always see eye-to-eye either. It was a lot easier to lead when your friends cheerfully deferred to your expertise. The new recruits didn’t know him, didn’t have a history with him, and seemed as eager to exploit his own weaknesses as they were a mutual foe’s. Or, he wondered glumly, was he the mutual foe?
But coming back to Gotham also meant coming back to his past. He’d made enough of a mess of things to want to just put it all behind him and not look back. It wasn’t going to be easy facing it at every turn. Careful, Tim. That line of reasoning is not only selfish, it’s childish. You think running away from the past is going to solve anything? More to the point, if his own leadership skills were lacking, by returning to Gotham, he’d be in close proximity to the best leader the Titans ever had. Not that Dick didn’t have other things on his mind, right now. But maybe, Tim reflected, he could pick up a few tips through observation and analysis. And maybe our being here will help take some of the pressure off him, too.
He nodded slowly. “I’ll talk to Cassie about it in the morning. If she agrees, the rest of the team will follow.”
Raven permitted herself the tiniest of smiles. “Then let us hope that her meeting with Wonder Woman has gone as well as mine with you.”
On Wednesday morning, they finally broke through to the cast-iron park bench in the centre of the garden. Gordon smiled. “Bet you forgot this was here.”
Bruce took a long knife to a clump of Canada thistle. “Actually,” he countered, as he stooped to loosen the soil around the roots, “I’ve been hoping to uncover it for the last few days.” He wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “It’s the mid-point,” he explained, as he inserted the tip of the knife beneath the plant and levered it out of the ground. “We’ve cleared off half the lawn area.” He looked behind him critically. “We’ll need to resod when this is done, though.” The ground that they had been clearing was pockmarked with bare spots where weeds had overcome grass. They’d been no match for a good set of gardening tools, though. Bruce sighed inwardly. It was a far cry from the “Astroturf effect” Dick had joked about, once upon a time.
“If you’d asked my opinion when we began this little project,” Jim interrupted Bruce’s reverie, as he swept aside the majority of the dust and debris on the bench with the back of his hand, “I would have told you to get a barrel of Nature’s Avenger, or Round Up. Better yet, one of those industrial herbicides like White K. Then I would have suggested you apply the contents liberally to everything within these stone walls, and start fresh.” He observed his handiwork critically, then sat down on the bench and leaned back.
“You could have said something.”
“And spoil your fun?”
Bruce blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him to view the work in quite that light until now. But yes, he was enjoying himself. There was something immensely cathartic about this labor. Tearing away the unwanted foliage, he was able to banish his sense of helplessness over his current situation. His loss of autonomy didn’t chafe him as closely. He permitted himself a small half-smile as he joined Jim on the bench.
“I was meaning to ask you,” Jim ventured after a moment. “Before I moved into the cottage, I did finally go through Barbara’s things. My ex-wife,” he clarified. “I wrote her. Asked if she wanted any of it back after all this time. She didn’t, but she asked if I wouldn’t mind hanging onto it until Christmas, in case Jimmy wants to look through it.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe that boy’s nearly eighteen, now. I didn’t fight her when she asked for sole custody-the way I was making enemies at the time of the divorce, I didn’t want to risk making my son a target. Still…” He sighed. “I wish I’d at least tried to be part of his life.” He took a deep breath. “I hope he does come in for Christmas, but I wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t.”
Bruce nodded. It occurred to him that he should say something. It wasn’t as though having estranged children was a foreign concept to him. And yet, it was, he realised. He’d definitely had his disagreements with his boys. Some had been heated. Some had gone on simply because neither party had wanted to be the one to back down first. In some cases, he’d messed up royally and compounded things by refusing to admit his errors. But there was ‘estranged’ and there was ‘estranged’. At least he knew his children.
Jim must have felt Bruce’s eyes on him, because he looked at him, smiled a bit self-consciously, and turned away. “I’m getting sentimental in my old age,” he muttered. “What I was meaning to ask you before I went off on that tangent was whether you’d mind… helping me,” his voice dropped a few decibels, “when I go through Sarah’s things.” He closed his eyes. “I think it’s time. I just don’t know if I can.”
Bruce looked down and studied his fingers. One day, and soon, he would need to do the same himself-with Alfred’s effects. He wasn’t looking forward to the task. But as difficult as he would find it, it was heartening to know that if he needed to, there were people who would help him with it. And he did know it-even if he wasn’t ready to ask it of anyone yet. But Jim was…
“Of course,” he said quickly. “Whenever you’re... prepared.”
Catwoman waited tensely as the balding middle-aged man with the long delicate fingers surveyed the contents of the pouch. He held one of the gemstones up to the light, then examined it more closely beneath a jewelers glass. He let out a low whistle.
Although she knew that she was taking a risk, appearing in costume, she was nearly at her wit’s end. The jewelery stores she’d tried as soon as she’d arrived in Manchester had taken one look at the stones that she was attempting to sell and demanded proof of ownership. She’d had the same problem at the six pawnshops she’d visited. Each clerk had insisted on seeing ID. That in itself wasn’t a problem. Selina had driver’s licenses, credit cards and birth certificates under several cover IDs. The difficulty was that they were all New York and New Jersey-issue. Once they’d seen that, nobody had wanted to deal with her. In desperation, she’d gone downtown and made a few inquiries. There were ways to find less legitimate channels if a person knew the proper way to ask. Asking had brought her to a nondescript storefront on Second Street in Manchester’s West Side. She knew that she would be lucky to get a fraction of what the gems were worth, but she needed cash.
She’d worn the suit to establish her bona fides. Catwoman didn’t have to show ID, and the fences were less likely to ask difficult questions this way.
As the man set down his glass, however, she saw regret in his eyes. “It’s like this, Catwoman,” he said regretfully. “I’m tempted. Seriously. But if you carried these beauties across state lines and they’re hot, I’m looking at federal time if I handle them.” He carefully poured the stones back into the pouch and handed it back to her. “With what these babies are worth, that’s over forty years. Sorry. No deal.”
She wanted to scream. She was carrying hundreds of thousands of dollars and she couldn’t exchange them for a cup of coffee. “What do you suggest I do?” She nearly spat out.
The fence shrugged eloquently. “Find someone in Jersey to take them off your hands.”
“I haven’t got enough for the gas to get there,” she shot back. She’d spent a good portion of her cash reserves for a hotel with a babysitting service, figuring that it would be worth the extra expense if she could sell the gemstones. It had been a gamble, but she hadn’t been able to think of a safer place to leave Helena. She focused pleading eyes on the man seated before her. “Isn’t there something you can do for me?
He thought for a moment. “I could give you a hundred for the bullwhip,” he said slowly. “We don’t get a lot of celebrities in these parts. I can mark it up enough to make it worth my while to take it off your hands.”
Selina’s nostrils flared. She had a good mind to let him have it-though not in the way he meant. “Forget it!” she snapped, and spun on her heel, slamming the door on her way out.
She’d never had problems like these in Gotham.
“I’ve spoken with Krait’s supervisor,” Alex said the following Monday. “As it turns out, he admitted to her that he might have overstepped.” Alex’s lips twitched at Bruce’s expression. “Yes, I know. ‘Might have’. To be fair, he’s just recently completed a tour with the military. He’s still adjusting to some of the differences in his duties now that he’s performing them in civilian life.”
Bruce’s eyebrows drew together. “And if I told you that I would prefer to deal with someone else?”
Alex stroked his beard. “You can make a request, and it will be reviewed. In the interim, however, you would need to continue working with the professional to whom you’ve already been assigned. Also, the request is more likely to be favourably looked upon if you’ve at least made an effort to work with him. I have to tell you, though, Bruce, the odds of having your request approved are minuscule.” He steepled his hands. “It would have been difficult enough to change caseworkers had your commitment been voluntary. Seeing as it wasn’t…” He made a face. “Even assuming an exception could be made, cutbacks are hitting everyone, Bruce. It could be months before another social worker has a vacant slot. There’s no way we can leave the situation that long.” He sighed. “I’ve asked Krait to come by this afternoon.”
Bruce clamped his hands onto the armrests of his chair. “You what?”
“This place was the closest thing to neutral ground I could come up with,” Alex said. “We’ve established that his coming to your home was an intrusion. I didn’t think you’d care much to call on him at his office.”
“And you didn’t warn me ahead of time, because you thought I’d bolt?”
“Actually, that wasn’t a concern,” Alex said. He leaned forward fractionally in his chair. “Suppose,” he said softly, “that I had notified you and then, for completely legitimate reasons, you had to cancel this session. Due to illness, for example? If Krait is coming into this situation presupposing that you’ll be uncooperative-”
“Jim would vouch for me.”
“He would,” Alex agreed. “And that could lead to a whole inquiry into whether his past friendship with you is leading him to compromise his judgement and cover for you.” Alex sighed. “Thinking it over again, now, I probably should have called you during the week, and for that I am sorry. I was weighing the potential risks against the potential benefits, and I couldn’t come up with a perfect result. Choosing the lesser of two evils, is still choosing evil, though.”
Bruce said nothing, either to absolve Alex or to blame him. He did, however, relax once more in his seat.
Alex took a deep breath. “I’ve asked him to come in to apologize,” he clarified. “Things couldn’t have got off to a worse start and he should have realized it.” In a quieter voice, he added, “but you’re right, too. I should have taken into greater account the fact that you haven’t missed a session yet-and I know that some of the ground we’ve been covering together hasn’t been the easiest.” He placed his hand on his phone. “I can still call him,” he said, softly. “I can advise him not to come today, and set up an appointment for you at his office later in the week. It’s just around the corner from here,” he added as an afterthought.
Bruce shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “If I have to deal with him then, I suppose I should get this over with. I would prefer a different caseworker, however, if at all possible.”
“Noted.” Alex took his hand off the receiver and picked up his pen. “Now, where were we?”
The smell of fresh bread greeted Dick when he got home. Fresh bread and, he concentrated for a moment, something involving apples and cinnamon. He walked into the dining room to find the table set with a white cloth. Two navy blue taper candles rose sentinel-like from silver holders.
“I know you probably had supper with Bruce,” Barbara said quietly, “but I was hoping maybe we could have a bite together after you come in from patrol.” She smiled, trying to mask her tension. “It’ll all keep until later. The microwave…”
He crossed the distance between them in two quick strides, knelt to her level and grasped her hand. She encircled his shoulders with her free arm and closed her eyes as he pulled her closer. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know he needs you too, but I don’t want to lose you…”
“Sh…” He caressed her cheek. “You won’t. You know you won’t.”
“I do-it’s just, all of this… sometimes it seems like I saw more of you when…” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Damn. I don’t mean to be a shrew.”
“And I don’t mean to freeze you out, it’s just… Look. If you’ve been cooped up with me for a few hours and you need to get away for a bit, you can go off by yourself or you can check who’s in Gotham and just call and get together. With Bruce, it’s your dad or it’s me. And he’s with your dad most of the time. They both need a break from each other; even if neither one usually admits it. But,” he kissed the top of her head, “I never wanted you to think that it’s got to come down to my choosing between you and Bruce. It doesn’t have to be either-or.”
“If you’re thinking of having him over here for dinner more often--”
“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of-“
“…I don’t mind. Not every week, but-”
“…Your joining us Monday afternoons for an early-you don’t? But I thought-”
Barbara shook her head, but she was smiling. “Let’s see how it goes, alright? I’m not promising that I’ll be okay with it indefinitely, and,” she hugged him once more, then loosened her arms, “I don’t want to get locked into a schedule or a routine. Let’s take things one week at a time.”
Dick nodded. “You got it.”
“I love you.”
“Enough not to stick me with the dishes later?”
Barbara made a face. “You wash. I’ll dry. It’ll get done in-”
A soft but insistent beeping broke into their conversation. “What in…?” Barbara set her jaw grimly. “Something’s on the news. Turn on the TV?”
“Got it.”
It didn’t take long to find the right station.
“What was she doing in Maine?” Dick wondered aloud.
“Besides getting away from us? No clue. But I’ll tell you one thing,” Barbara stated with conviction, “she wasn’t-Damn!” She sucked in her breath. “I did not just hear… Kidnapping?” She exhaled noisily. Of course.” One would have had to possess the perception of a pebble to miss the sarcasm in her tone. “I mean that’s the only possible explanation for her having a kid with her, isn’t it?”
Dick shook his head. “Anything you can do?”
“Yeah. But I need to get upstairs to my systems in order to do it.”
The timer went off. “Go on,” Dick said. “I’ll get the…”
“Pie,” Barbara supplied.
“…Pie out of the oven and then,” he glanced out the window and sighed. “It looks like I’ve got my own alarm to answer.” He pointed to the night sky, newly illuminated by the light of the Bat-signal. “Catch you later.”
“Go.” She let out an exaggerated sigh, then smiled. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
Catwoman forcefully suppressed the blind unadulterated rage that had been pulsing through her veins ever since she’d turned on the TV and caught the segment. Did nobody research anymore? She was used to taking certain sensationalist newsmagazines with a grain of salt, but this had been CNN!
I do not use accomplices and I am not a kidnapper! Still seething, she carefully disabled the security alarm and eased the apartment door open. Again, she forced herself to remain calm. She wasn’t used to operating in broad daylight, but it was after nine o’clock. Most people were working. She’d also made sure that the hallway was clear before she’d taken out her lock-picks.
It had been relatively easy for her to track the fence to his home-a fifth-floor walk-up. The first evening, she’d found out his apartment number. The second, she’d stood with binoculars on a nearby rooftop and watched him long enough to case the interior. The man lived alone. As she’d half-expected, he kept his assets where they wouldn’t be frozen: in a wall-safe. By night three, she had the combination. All that remained for her to do this morning was to go in, grab the cash, and get out.
Ten minutes later, and-by her best estimate-eighty thousand dollars richer, she was back in her rental car, driving toward the hotel, and cursing the media anew. The news came on and she listened, dreading what she was about to hear, but somehow powerless to turn the dial.
“It is now reported that the notorious Catwoman has been seen with a young child. Police are currently combing missing persons reports, in the hope of verifying whether the toddler was abducted. It is unknown at this time whether any ransom demands have been made. Officer Paul Little had this to say…”
With an angry cry, she turned off the radio. This was trouble. This was real trouble. Now they knew to look for a woman with a child-and there was no way that she could leave Helena somewhere! She was going to have to lie low, live cautiously…
And only steal when you have to?
She bit down on the inside of her lip. She’d given up stealing years ago.
But it’s like riding a bike, isn’t it? You never really forget.
She tried to silence the voice, but its whisper was relentless.
First, you put the suit back on. Then you seek out the underworld. Then, you start stealing… just a little, from someone who probably deserves it. What next?
Selina took a deep breath. Enough was enough. She was tired of running, tired of not having a set goal, tired of coasting minute-to-minute. Living for the chase had been fun, once-and, yes, it had felt good to discover that she hadn’t lost her skills as a cat burglar. The thing was, she had other responsibilities, now; one of which was sixteen months old with black hair and blue eyes. And it wasn’t fair to drag her from pillar to post, either.
She exhaled slowly. When she’d left Gotham, she’d agonized over her decision for weeks. It seemed odd that she’d made up her mind to return in a split-second. And yet, she had. She didn’t know whether she was ready to have Bruce back in her life-or, if Bruce even wanted her back in his. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. But she couldn’t go on like this. And if her luck had run out and she was going to go down, she’d rather it be on her home turf, with people that she could trust to look after Helena close by.
Less than an hour later, Selina cast a smiling look over her shoulder at her daughter, who was babbling to herself in the car seat. “Just sit back, kiddo,” she said as she turned her key in the ignition. “We’re going home.”
*Translation of Cantonese dialogue:
“I don’t know any English!”
“Don’t lie to me! How much do you know?
“Nothing, nothing!”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“Please! I don’t know anything!”
Chapter 8: Pulled to Pieces
Prologue: In the Middle of the Night
Chapter 1: Giving In
Chapter 2: Torn In Half
Chapter 3: Hurting
Chapter 4: Keeping Afloat
Chapter 5: Patterns
Chapter 6: Chasing Demons
There's a warrior and a victim living deep
Inside all of us.
We have to choose to fight or surrender
When the world beats us up.
I know where my weakness lies,
but I know it's a fight that I can win.
I may get broken trying to get up
But I can't wait to start again.
Kris Bergsnes, Lee Thomas Miller, “Brand New Me”
Thanks to Kathy, Sara, Debbie, Juliet, and aiyokusama for the beta!
Thanks to lucius_complex of multilingual for Cantonese help (a translation appears at the end of the chapter).
Thanks to dungeonwriter for helping me understand federal sentencing guidelines.
“Brand New Me” written by Kris Bergsnes and Lee Thomas Miller. Recorded by John Michael Montgomery on his Brand New Me album (Atlantic, 2000).
Chapter 7-Where My Weakness Lies
Bruce had seen Alex serious, apologetic, stubborn, and-very occasionally-irritated. This was the first time that he had ever seen him outraged. “Confirm that for me, once more, please,” he said evenly. “Krait appeared at your door without prior warning, and without a preliminary meeting in a more neutral setting.”
Bruce nodded, even as he felt his face grow hot. He wasn’t used to having other people fight these battles for him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
Alex pursed his lips. “Excuse me one moment, please.” He picked up the telephone on his desk and punched in a number. “Sylvia Mackay’s office, please.” He waited a moment in silence. “Yes, I’m calling for Sylvia Mackay. This is Dr. Morgenstern. Well, have her call me back as soon as she comes in.” Whatever the person on the other end of the connection was saying didn’t seem to please him. He took a deep breath. “Then page her. My cell phone is…”
After he’d given his contact information and hung up, he turned back to Bruce. “I don’t know what to say,” he said simply. “What Krait did was completely out of line. It shouldn’t have happened. Period. I’ll be looking for an explanation when the extended care co-ordinator calls me back.”
Bruce leaned forward. “Krait’s behaviour was atypical, then.”
“Absolutely. The first meeting should have either been back at St. Swithin’s when you were on the ward, or at Krait’s office. You are supposed to be meeting with him on a weekly basis, but those meetings are meant to take place in a more professional setting, at least initially. Home visits come later.”
Bruce felt a smile spread across his face. Then, a moment later, a frown replaced it. “Is there a way to prevent home visits altogether?”
Alex started to nod, then reconsidered. “Well. No, not to eliminate them completely, but certainly there’s a way to reduce them. And you already know it, I suspect. Cooperate. No matter how tedious and inane you may find his suggestions during your meetings, don’t let it show. Fall back on your acting abilities if you have to. Go back to-”
“To being ‘affable easygoing Brucie’,” Bruce interrupted with a scowl. “I thought that one of your goals was to reintegrate the different parts of my psyche. Instead, it sounds like you mean me to perpetuate the schism.”
“Acting out a role,” Alex pointed out, “isn’t so much pretending to be what you aren’t, as it is finding those elements within yourself best suited to the task at hand and bringing them to the fore. On a personal note,” he added, “I could easily point out to you that I act somewhat differently at a board meeting than I do in session here; and differently again when my workday is over and I go home to my family. Playing a role doesn’t necessarily have to mean changing-or suppressing-your personality.”
Bruce mulled that over. “Suppose,” he said slowly, “that I don’t follow his suggestions? I don’t mean,” he hastened to add, “that I would deliberately provoke him. But suppose, hypothetically, that he were to once more arrive unexpectedly and I simply… don’t wish to accommodate his visit at that time?”
Alex’s eyebrows drew together. “That’s another thing,” he said. “Krait should be calling to set up these visits, not popping in unannounced. However, to answer your question directly, Bruce, even though you’re out of Arkham, the old paradigm still applies. In other words, the more you work with us… the less you’ll have to. We’re coming up on 30 days since your release. At 60, we can re-evaluate and possibly extend your unsupervised time.
Bruce looked up. “You mean to extend the intervals between… checks,” Bruce surmised. “Twenty minutes instead of fifteen?”
“That’s one option,” Alex agreed. He ignored the sarcasm in Bruce’s tone. “We can also look at scaling back the hours that you need to spend under supervision. Say, 8 AM to 9 PM, as opposed to 7 to 10. Continue to make progress, and we can think about a full day free.
Bruce started to smile. Then, abruptly, the scowl returned. “And if I don’t,” he finished, “I could lose whatever little I’ve gained back. I can’t believe this.” He made no attempt to conceal his anger “You’re saying I have no choice but to work with him, or...”
“You always have a choice,” Alex said. “The same one you’ve had all along. You need to decide for yourself whether staying out of Arkham is worth the cost.” He paused a beat. “I do know that different options have different… prices,” he added, shooting Bruce a meaningful look. “You just need to decide for yourself which bundle works best for you.”
Bruce nodded, still frowning, as he considered Alex’s words. There were a few possibilities that sprang to mind. He could turn fugitive and spend the foreseeable future hiding under a new identity. He could take off in his private jet and retire to some island in the Caribbean. He could return to inpatient status. Or… he could deal with Krait, and therapy, and near-constant surveillance… and the hope of getting back some semblance of his old life. He grimaced. Lying low for a time was one thing, but he wasn’t about to cut and run. He didn’t think he could live with himself if he tried it. The Caribbean would lose its appeal for him inside of a month-and that, too, would be a coward’s choice. Either way, his life-and his family-would be gone. In that light, neither option was acceptable. In no way was he prepared to go back to Arkham or to a hospital psych ward, or even to some quiet rest home upstate. True, in some ways, his life had been easier in Arkham than it was now; but then, since when had he ever wanted things easy? He shook his head slowly. It would be giving up. Worse. It would be failing a course that some of his enemies had stayed. That, he set his jaw grimly, was unacceptable.
Alex was right. He did have options. No, he didn’t like any of them much, but there was still some comfort in having the ability to choose one. And putting up with Krait was his best choice. At least it was for now. Bruce closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded himself once more of how far he’d come in the last year. He wasn’t about to throw everything away because he had a personality conflict with some jumped-up bureaucrat. The courts may have given him control over my circumstances. Only I can give him control over me. And I refuse to give that up.
He opened his eyes and settled back into his chair. “Last week,” he began, “if memory serves, we had begun to discuss one of my blind spots.”
Alex nodded. “You’re not the first person to overlook his own mortality.”
“Particularly,” Bruce said, “when dwelling on the condition is counterproductive…”
“On three,” Batman said between clenched teeth, as he deliberately took out his jumpline and held it before him with his thumb extended, trusting that the woman behind him would understand. “One…”
He and Batgirl moved simultaneously. As the grapnel on the end of his cable wrapped itself around a fire escape, he pressed the release button and rose into the air, flinging batarangs as he ascended. Batgirl crouched low and let fly with several of her own.
Several of the Triad members broke and ran. Their leader, however, stood his ground. “There’s only two of ‘em!” He snapped. “We can take ‘em!”
Batman rolled his eyes. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that line, I’d…”
“Have condo downtown, fancy car, jet, yacht, two… copters and five caves?” Batgirl asked. She ducked a flying kick, grabbed on to the banister railing with both hands, and swung both feet into her opponent’s mid-section. He screamed and crashed heavily down on one knee.
“Your banter’s improving,” Batman shot back, tossing more batarangs. “Been practicing?” He swung to another balcony, then leaped, and caught the railing one story lower. “Hmmm…” He eyed an aluminium-frame lawn-chair speculatively. Then he quickly scaled the balcony, grabbed the chair, and climbed back over. He fired off another cable and then, gripping it between his ankles, dangled upside down. He swung the lawn-chair directly into the head of one of the punks below. The young man dropped. That worked well, he thought. Let’s do it again. He could and did-twice more. The last to fall was the leader. The remaining Triad members bolted.
Batman somersaulted down from his perch. “Don’t forget to frisk ’em,” he said, as he and Batgirl fastened plastic bindings on the wrists and ankles of the fallen.
“Not amateur.” She sounded miffed.
“Hey. Even pros can have off-nights,” he said. “Remind me to tell you someday about the time I forgot to make a back-up copy of a crooked ADA’s confession. And speaking of confessions…” One of the unconscious gangsters was starting to come to. Batman seized him by the shoulders and pulled him upright into a sitting position.
The young man-Dick didn’t think he was much older than twenty-opened bleary eyes which snapped wider instantly at the sight of the cowled visage, scant inches away.
“How much is Cobblepot offering you?”
The captive gulped and let out a strangled cry. “Mng Sik Ying Mun!”
Batman grimaced. He hadn’t spoken Cantonese in a long time. Still, there was always the chance that the punk was telling him the truth, and he really didn’t speak English. He doubted it, though. “Moh Ngak Ngo!” he spat out the syllables. “Lei Sik Meh Yeh?”
If anything, the man looked even more terrified. “Moh Yeh! Moh Yeh!” he whimpered.
You don’t know anything, huh? Well, we’ll just make sure of that. Batman leaned in even closer. “Moh Ngak Ngo!” He repeated in a harsh whisper.
The youth squeezed his eyes shut. “Kau Mang!” He was sobbing now. “Ngo Mng Sik Yeh! Ngo Mng Sik Yeh!*”
He hesitated. It was just barely possible that the young man didn’t have the answers he wanted. And since he and Cass did have a backup plan…
The black-and-whites picked that moment to show up. Two squad cars sealed off the alley and four officers approached.
“They’re all yours,” Batman announced, letting his prisoner drop to the asphalt. “Let’s go, Batgirl.”
Two cables snaked upwards. A moment later, both vigilantes rose into the air. The officers watched them go.
Once up on the rooftop, Batman turned to face his companion. “You got a tracer on one of the ones who cut out?”
Batgirl nodded.
Batman smiled. “Good. Let’s hope it pans out, then.” He’d tagged three of his own, but then, he’d had more practice. “Night’s still young. You take the downtown core. I’ll swing over to Tricorner. We’ll rendezvous at Wayne Tower at midnight.”
“Oracle said you wanted to see me?”
Raven looked up from the writing desk at the costumed vigilante perched on her windowsill.
Come in, Timothy, she projected. I’ve left the balcony door unlocked.
A moment later, she heard his boots land on the concrete flooring outside. He entered the hotel room quickly and shut the door behind him. Once inside, he looked around appreciatively. “Nice place.”
It was of Barbara’s choosing. But it is more than acceptable, she added.
Harrier massaged his temples. “Can we switch to voice?” He asked. “I’ve got a headache.”
Raven nodded. “As you wish. Michael’s mother met with me today.”
“Regarding?”
Raven hesitated. “You asked me some months ago to assist you in training the newer members of the Teen Titans. Michael’s mother is reluctant to allow him to relocate to San Francisco. I concur with her decision, although my reasoning is not hers: she does not wish to be parted from her son at this juncture, while I do not believe that the move would be good for the boy at this time.”
Harrier shifted from one foot to the other. “Look, if you’re backing out-”
“I do not wish to do so. Nor do I consider it advisable. The current Teen Titans roster is lacking in both discipline and cohesion. Timothy,” she added, “I do not mean this to reflect on your ability to lead the team. However your ability to train the team, to enable them to function as a team, falls short of my own. It is not advisable for me to leave Gotham. Therefore, I would propose that the Titans relocate here.”
Harrier blinked. “Here,” he repeated. “To Gotham.”
“The Astral plane has grown turbulent, of late. I would not chance its tides for casual travel. And journey by more conventional means would soon tire the team.”
A polite way to point out that jetsetting across three time zones was going to take it toll sooner rather than later, Harrier reflected. He considered. With Selina out of the picture, Dick could use the backup. And Raven’s points about the Titans were painfully accurate. They were a gang, right now. But they weren’t a team. He and Cassie, as veteran members, had been trying their level best to create one. The problem was that the two of them didn’t always see eye-to-eye either. It was a lot easier to lead when your friends cheerfully deferred to your expertise. The new recruits didn’t know him, didn’t have a history with him, and seemed as eager to exploit his own weaknesses as they were a mutual foe’s. Or, he wondered glumly, was he the mutual foe?
But coming back to Gotham also meant coming back to his past. He’d made enough of a mess of things to want to just put it all behind him and not look back. It wasn’t going to be easy facing it at every turn. Careful, Tim. That line of reasoning is not only selfish, it’s childish. You think running away from the past is going to solve anything? More to the point, if his own leadership skills were lacking, by returning to Gotham, he’d be in close proximity to the best leader the Titans ever had. Not that Dick didn’t have other things on his mind, right now. But maybe, Tim reflected, he could pick up a few tips through observation and analysis. And maybe our being here will help take some of the pressure off him, too.
He nodded slowly. “I’ll talk to Cassie about it in the morning. If she agrees, the rest of the team will follow.”
Raven permitted herself the tiniest of smiles. “Then let us hope that her meeting with Wonder Woman has gone as well as mine with you.”
On Wednesday morning, they finally broke through to the cast-iron park bench in the centre of the garden. Gordon smiled. “Bet you forgot this was here.”
Bruce took a long knife to a clump of Canada thistle. “Actually,” he countered, as he stooped to loosen the soil around the roots, “I’ve been hoping to uncover it for the last few days.” He wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “It’s the mid-point,” he explained, as he inserted the tip of the knife beneath the plant and levered it out of the ground. “We’ve cleared off half the lawn area.” He looked behind him critically. “We’ll need to resod when this is done, though.” The ground that they had been clearing was pockmarked with bare spots where weeds had overcome grass. They’d been no match for a good set of gardening tools, though. Bruce sighed inwardly. It was a far cry from the “Astroturf effect” Dick had joked about, once upon a time.
“If you’d asked my opinion when we began this little project,” Jim interrupted Bruce’s reverie, as he swept aside the majority of the dust and debris on the bench with the back of his hand, “I would have told you to get a barrel of Nature’s Avenger, or Round Up. Better yet, one of those industrial herbicides like White K. Then I would have suggested you apply the contents liberally to everything within these stone walls, and start fresh.” He observed his handiwork critically, then sat down on the bench and leaned back.
“You could have said something.”
“And spoil your fun?”
Bruce blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him to view the work in quite that light until now. But yes, he was enjoying himself. There was something immensely cathartic about this labor. Tearing away the unwanted foliage, he was able to banish his sense of helplessness over his current situation. His loss of autonomy didn’t chafe him as closely. He permitted himself a small half-smile as he joined Jim on the bench.
“I was meaning to ask you,” Jim ventured after a moment. “Before I moved into the cottage, I did finally go through Barbara’s things. My ex-wife,” he clarified. “I wrote her. Asked if she wanted any of it back after all this time. She didn’t, but she asked if I wouldn’t mind hanging onto it until Christmas, in case Jimmy wants to look through it.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe that boy’s nearly eighteen, now. I didn’t fight her when she asked for sole custody-the way I was making enemies at the time of the divorce, I didn’t want to risk making my son a target. Still…” He sighed. “I wish I’d at least tried to be part of his life.” He took a deep breath. “I hope he does come in for Christmas, but I wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t.”
Bruce nodded. It occurred to him that he should say something. It wasn’t as though having estranged children was a foreign concept to him. And yet, it was, he realised. He’d definitely had his disagreements with his boys. Some had been heated. Some had gone on simply because neither party had wanted to be the one to back down first. In some cases, he’d messed up royally and compounded things by refusing to admit his errors. But there was ‘estranged’ and there was ‘estranged’. At least he knew his children.
Jim must have felt Bruce’s eyes on him, because he looked at him, smiled a bit self-consciously, and turned away. “I’m getting sentimental in my old age,” he muttered. “What I was meaning to ask you before I went off on that tangent was whether you’d mind… helping me,” his voice dropped a few decibels, “when I go through Sarah’s things.” He closed his eyes. “I think it’s time. I just don’t know if I can.”
Bruce looked down and studied his fingers. One day, and soon, he would need to do the same himself-with Alfred’s effects. He wasn’t looking forward to the task. But as difficult as he would find it, it was heartening to know that if he needed to, there were people who would help him with it. And he did know it-even if he wasn’t ready to ask it of anyone yet. But Jim was…
“Of course,” he said quickly. “Whenever you’re... prepared.”
Catwoman waited tensely as the balding middle-aged man with the long delicate fingers surveyed the contents of the pouch. He held one of the gemstones up to the light, then examined it more closely beneath a jewelers glass. He let out a low whistle.
Although she knew that she was taking a risk, appearing in costume, she was nearly at her wit’s end. The jewelery stores she’d tried as soon as she’d arrived in Manchester had taken one look at the stones that she was attempting to sell and demanded proof of ownership. She’d had the same problem at the six pawnshops she’d visited. Each clerk had insisted on seeing ID. That in itself wasn’t a problem. Selina had driver’s licenses, credit cards and birth certificates under several cover IDs. The difficulty was that they were all New York and New Jersey-issue. Once they’d seen that, nobody had wanted to deal with her. In desperation, she’d gone downtown and made a few inquiries. There were ways to find less legitimate channels if a person knew the proper way to ask. Asking had brought her to a nondescript storefront on Second Street in Manchester’s West Side. She knew that she would be lucky to get a fraction of what the gems were worth, but she needed cash.
She’d worn the suit to establish her bona fides. Catwoman didn’t have to show ID, and the fences were less likely to ask difficult questions this way.
As the man set down his glass, however, she saw regret in his eyes. “It’s like this, Catwoman,” he said regretfully. “I’m tempted. Seriously. But if you carried these beauties across state lines and they’re hot, I’m looking at federal time if I handle them.” He carefully poured the stones back into the pouch and handed it back to her. “With what these babies are worth, that’s over forty years. Sorry. No deal.”
She wanted to scream. She was carrying hundreds of thousands of dollars and she couldn’t exchange them for a cup of coffee. “What do you suggest I do?” She nearly spat out.
The fence shrugged eloquently. “Find someone in Jersey to take them off your hands.”
“I haven’t got enough for the gas to get there,” she shot back. She’d spent a good portion of her cash reserves for a hotel with a babysitting service, figuring that it would be worth the extra expense if she could sell the gemstones. It had been a gamble, but she hadn’t been able to think of a safer place to leave Helena. She focused pleading eyes on the man seated before her. “Isn’t there something you can do for me?
He thought for a moment. “I could give you a hundred for the bullwhip,” he said slowly. “We don’t get a lot of celebrities in these parts. I can mark it up enough to make it worth my while to take it off your hands.”
Selina’s nostrils flared. She had a good mind to let him have it-though not in the way he meant. “Forget it!” she snapped, and spun on her heel, slamming the door on her way out.
She’d never had problems like these in Gotham.
“I’ve spoken with Krait’s supervisor,” Alex said the following Monday. “As it turns out, he admitted to her that he might have overstepped.” Alex’s lips twitched at Bruce’s expression. “Yes, I know. ‘Might have’. To be fair, he’s just recently completed a tour with the military. He’s still adjusting to some of the differences in his duties now that he’s performing them in civilian life.”
Bruce’s eyebrows drew together. “And if I told you that I would prefer to deal with someone else?”
Alex stroked his beard. “You can make a request, and it will be reviewed. In the interim, however, you would need to continue working with the professional to whom you’ve already been assigned. Also, the request is more likely to be favourably looked upon if you’ve at least made an effort to work with him. I have to tell you, though, Bruce, the odds of having your request approved are minuscule.” He steepled his hands. “It would have been difficult enough to change caseworkers had your commitment been voluntary. Seeing as it wasn’t…” He made a face. “Even assuming an exception could be made, cutbacks are hitting everyone, Bruce. It could be months before another social worker has a vacant slot. There’s no way we can leave the situation that long.” He sighed. “I’ve asked Krait to come by this afternoon.”
Bruce clamped his hands onto the armrests of his chair. “You what?”
“This place was the closest thing to neutral ground I could come up with,” Alex said. “We’ve established that his coming to your home was an intrusion. I didn’t think you’d care much to call on him at his office.”
“And you didn’t warn me ahead of time, because you thought I’d bolt?”
“Actually, that wasn’t a concern,” Alex said. He leaned forward fractionally in his chair. “Suppose,” he said softly, “that I had notified you and then, for completely legitimate reasons, you had to cancel this session. Due to illness, for example? If Krait is coming into this situation presupposing that you’ll be uncooperative-”
“Jim would vouch for me.”
“He would,” Alex agreed. “And that could lead to a whole inquiry into whether his past friendship with you is leading him to compromise his judgement and cover for you.” Alex sighed. “Thinking it over again, now, I probably should have called you during the week, and for that I am sorry. I was weighing the potential risks against the potential benefits, and I couldn’t come up with a perfect result. Choosing the lesser of two evils, is still choosing evil, though.”
Bruce said nothing, either to absolve Alex or to blame him. He did, however, relax once more in his seat.
Alex took a deep breath. “I’ve asked him to come in to apologize,” he clarified. “Things couldn’t have got off to a worse start and he should have realized it.” In a quieter voice, he added, “but you’re right, too. I should have taken into greater account the fact that you haven’t missed a session yet-and I know that some of the ground we’ve been covering together hasn’t been the easiest.” He placed his hand on his phone. “I can still call him,” he said, softly. “I can advise him not to come today, and set up an appointment for you at his office later in the week. It’s just around the corner from here,” he added as an afterthought.
Bruce shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “If I have to deal with him then, I suppose I should get this over with. I would prefer a different caseworker, however, if at all possible.”
“Noted.” Alex took his hand off the receiver and picked up his pen. “Now, where were we?”
The smell of fresh bread greeted Dick when he got home. Fresh bread and, he concentrated for a moment, something involving apples and cinnamon. He walked into the dining room to find the table set with a white cloth. Two navy blue taper candles rose sentinel-like from silver holders.
“I know you probably had supper with Bruce,” Barbara said quietly, “but I was hoping maybe we could have a bite together after you come in from patrol.” She smiled, trying to mask her tension. “It’ll all keep until later. The microwave…”
He crossed the distance between them in two quick strides, knelt to her level and grasped her hand. She encircled his shoulders with her free arm and closed her eyes as he pulled her closer. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know he needs you too, but I don’t want to lose you…”
“Sh…” He caressed her cheek. “You won’t. You know you won’t.”
“I do-it’s just, all of this… sometimes it seems like I saw more of you when…” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Damn. I don’t mean to be a shrew.”
“And I don’t mean to freeze you out, it’s just… Look. If you’ve been cooped up with me for a few hours and you need to get away for a bit, you can go off by yourself or you can check who’s in Gotham and just call and get together. With Bruce, it’s your dad or it’s me. And he’s with your dad most of the time. They both need a break from each other; even if neither one usually admits it. But,” he kissed the top of her head, “I never wanted you to think that it’s got to come down to my choosing between you and Bruce. It doesn’t have to be either-or.”
“If you’re thinking of having him over here for dinner more often--”
“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of-“
“…I don’t mind. Not every week, but-”
“…Your joining us Monday afternoons for an early-you don’t? But I thought-”
Barbara shook her head, but she was smiling. “Let’s see how it goes, alright? I’m not promising that I’ll be okay with it indefinitely, and,” she hugged him once more, then loosened her arms, “I don’t want to get locked into a schedule or a routine. Let’s take things one week at a time.”
Dick nodded. “You got it.”
“I love you.”
“Enough not to stick me with the dishes later?”
Barbara made a face. “You wash. I’ll dry. It’ll get done in-”
A soft but insistent beeping broke into their conversation. “What in…?” Barbara set her jaw grimly. “Something’s on the news. Turn on the TV?”
“Got it.”
It didn’t take long to find the right station.
“What was she doing in Maine?” Dick wondered aloud.
“Besides getting away from us? No clue. But I’ll tell you one thing,” Barbara stated with conviction, “she wasn’t-Damn!” She sucked in her breath. “I did not just hear… Kidnapping?” She exhaled noisily. Of course.” One would have had to possess the perception of a pebble to miss the sarcasm in her tone. “I mean that’s the only possible explanation for her having a kid with her, isn’t it?”
Dick shook his head. “Anything you can do?”
“Yeah. But I need to get upstairs to my systems in order to do it.”
The timer went off. “Go on,” Dick said. “I’ll get the…”
“Pie,” Barbara supplied.
“…Pie out of the oven and then,” he glanced out the window and sighed. “It looks like I’ve got my own alarm to answer.” He pointed to the night sky, newly illuminated by the light of the Bat-signal. “Catch you later.”
“Go.” She let out an exaggerated sigh, then smiled. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
Catwoman forcefully suppressed the blind unadulterated rage that had been pulsing through her veins ever since she’d turned on the TV and caught the segment. Did nobody research anymore? She was used to taking certain sensationalist newsmagazines with a grain of salt, but this had been CNN!
I do not use accomplices and I am not a kidnapper! Still seething, she carefully disabled the security alarm and eased the apartment door open. Again, she forced herself to remain calm. She wasn’t used to operating in broad daylight, but it was after nine o’clock. Most people were working. She’d also made sure that the hallway was clear before she’d taken out her lock-picks.
It had been relatively easy for her to track the fence to his home-a fifth-floor walk-up. The first evening, she’d found out his apartment number. The second, she’d stood with binoculars on a nearby rooftop and watched him long enough to case the interior. The man lived alone. As she’d half-expected, he kept his assets where they wouldn’t be frozen: in a wall-safe. By night three, she had the combination. All that remained for her to do this morning was to go in, grab the cash, and get out.
Ten minutes later, and-by her best estimate-eighty thousand dollars richer, she was back in her rental car, driving toward the hotel, and cursing the media anew. The news came on and she listened, dreading what she was about to hear, but somehow powerless to turn the dial.
“It is now reported that the notorious Catwoman has been seen with a young child. Police are currently combing missing persons reports, in the hope of verifying whether the toddler was abducted. It is unknown at this time whether any ransom demands have been made. Officer Paul Little had this to say…”
With an angry cry, she turned off the radio. This was trouble. This was real trouble. Now they knew to look for a woman with a child-and there was no way that she could leave Helena somewhere! She was going to have to lie low, live cautiously…
And only steal when you have to?
She bit down on the inside of her lip. She’d given up stealing years ago.
But it’s like riding a bike, isn’t it? You never really forget.
She tried to silence the voice, but its whisper was relentless.
First, you put the suit back on. Then you seek out the underworld. Then, you start stealing… just a little, from someone who probably deserves it. What next?
Selina took a deep breath. Enough was enough. She was tired of running, tired of not having a set goal, tired of coasting minute-to-minute. Living for the chase had been fun, once-and, yes, it had felt good to discover that she hadn’t lost her skills as a cat burglar. The thing was, she had other responsibilities, now; one of which was sixteen months old with black hair and blue eyes. And it wasn’t fair to drag her from pillar to post, either.
She exhaled slowly. When she’d left Gotham, she’d agonized over her decision for weeks. It seemed odd that she’d made up her mind to return in a split-second. And yet, she had. She didn’t know whether she was ready to have Bruce back in her life-or, if Bruce even wanted her back in his. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. But she couldn’t go on like this. And if her luck had run out and she was going to go down, she’d rather it be on her home turf, with people that she could trust to look after Helena close by.
Less than an hour later, Selina cast a smiling look over her shoulder at her daughter, who was babbling to herself in the car seat. “Just sit back, kiddo,” she said as she turned her key in the ignition. “We’re going home.”
*Translation of Cantonese dialogue:
“I don’t know any English!”
“Don’t lie to me! How much do you know?
“Nothing, nothing!”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“Please! I don’t know anything!”
Chapter 8: Pulled to Pieces