Fic: The Way Back (PG-13) 12/?--Pride and Grace
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
Chapter 7: Where My Weakness Lies
Chapter 8: Pulled to Pieces
Chapter 9: Foolish Pride
Chapter 10: Learning, Reaching and Dreaming
Chapter 11: Wanting to Share
A/N: Bruce's list taken from Conversations with Yourself by Rabbi Zelig Pliskin (NY, Artscroll, 2007). I am indebted to thetropicaltank.co.uk for information about zebra danios, and appropriate community fish.
"This Is Me Leaving You" lyrics by Mary Chapin Carpenter and John Jennings. Performed by Mary Chapin Carpenter on her Time* Sex* Love* album (Columbia, 2001).
Thanks to Kathy, Debbie, Juliet, and Aiyokusama for the beta!
This is your voice of reason
This is your voice of calm
This is your heart that's speaking
Saying the time has come
Here is your pride and grace now
Here is your strength and soul
Everything's at the ready, you're finally good to go
Mary Chapin Carpenter, "This Is Me Leaving You"
Chapter 12--Pride and Grace
Harrier saw the flare land under the parked Honda and realized in an instant what was about to happen.
"Ravager, MOVE!" He didn't wait for her to react to his order. He sprang forward, caught her about the waist, and flung her down, shielding her body with his own. There was a horrific bang and the two teens felt a blast of heat pass over them.
Beneath him, Ravager struggled to turn her face toward his. "You know, if you wanted to kiss me, you didn't have to be this dramatic about it," she teased.
Harrier flinched. If I tell her I didn't... How sword-resistant is this Kevlar, again? Groaning was the only safe response he could come up with, under the circumstances.
An instant later, Batgirl was crouching next to them. "Okay?"
"Agh! Get off me, you creep!" Ravager struggled to break loose. "I'm fine except for having all this muscle slam into my back."
"Better muscle than shrapnel," Harrier shot back. "What happened?"
Batgirl extended her hands to help her new teammates to their feet. "Lookout." Her voice was disgusted. She gestured toward the top story. "There." Her finger pointed to the window on the far left. "Fired flare gun. Missed you." She pointed toward the remains of a parked car. "Went under."
Ravager began to swear. "Does every lousy crook in this city like fire and explosions?"
"No," Batgirl said shortly. "Joker and Scarecrow like... gas."
"We would've noticed if the motor was on," Ravager snapped, ignoring the comment. "How the hell did it blow up?"
Harrier glanced over his shoulder at the car. "It's an old Prelude," he muttered. "I remember reading about those. There was a design flaw with the fuel tank in the early 80s--it rusts out. Open flame under the body would be enough to cause the blast."
"You can tell all that from the wreckage?"
"No," Harrier said tersely. "I took note of the make and model when we got here. I just didn't plan on its being the Ghost Dragons' security system, or I would have paid closer attention."
Batgirl sighed. "Argue later. Fight now. Inside."
"Ground team, come in! Are you there?"
Harrier activated his comm-link. "Here, Oracle. Sorry. We hit a snag. We're fine."
"Then get in there!" Kid Devil's voice came over the channel, fast and excited. "Wonder Girl just sent out a distress call--they're outnumbered and pinned down!"
"On it," Batgirl called, taking a running leap at the door. It splintered at her kick.
Harrier and Ravager exchanged a quick glance. "Well," Ravager said, unsheathing her swords, "it's not like they didn't already know we were coming. Let's move."
They hurried after their companion.
Wonder Girl peered over the wall of crates and ducked as a laser gun fired. "You okay?" she asked the green-skinned girl next to her.
Miss Martian nodded. "I should be." She sounded disgusted. "It's just..." she closed her eyes, "wearing a force field might protect me from fire, but not from my fear of it. I can smell the smoke from outside."
"You were fine when we had the cookout, our last night in San Francisco," Wonder Girl said thoughtfully. "I mean, you weren't sitting near the grill, but the smoke didn't really faze you." She rose again, cried out in surprise, and held up her forearms to deflect an incoming blast.
"That fire was under control," M'gann protested as Cassie slid back down.
"I know. But can't you pretend this smoke is also from a barbecue? A big one?"
Miss Martian seemed to think it over. Her jaw hardened. "I can do something about the lasers, at least," she said grimly. Her eyes glowed red. She spun about, rose, and targeted one of the large robots. "Match them in kind!"
Wonder Girl smiled. "Well, alright!" she whispered. Then louder, "Cover me!" as she took to the air.
She hoped the ground team would arrive shortly, but the situation was nowhere near as dire as it had appeared a moment ago.
One floor below, Harrier, Batgirl and Ravager found themselves facing eight angry youths in Ghost Dragon garb and face paint.
"Watch out," Harrier cautioned, as a shower of shuriken came toward them. "Our costumes should shield us, but make sure none of those blades hit your face."
Batgirl nodded. "Might be poisoned." Her voice was dispassionate, as though the matter was purely one for academic discussion.
Ravager scowled. Her costume was the only one without a full face-mask. "Well, he won't throw them my way if he'll risk hitting his friends," she snapped. So saying, she charged the 'Dragons' ranks, blades extended.
Harrier let loose with a salvo of his own. In the old days, his throwing knives would have been R-shaped. Now, they were stylized "H"s, the down-strokes razor-sharp half-circles, linked by a flat horizontal bar. There were shouts of dismay as the blades sank into arms, legs, and torsos.
Batgirl took a running leap and catapulted into their midst. Without missing a beat, she lashed out at her adversaries with her feet and fists.
The Ghost Dragons fought back, but the outcome of the battle was never in doubt as the three vigilantes pummelled and pounded them into submission.
As Harrier delivered an uppercut to the last 'Dragon standing, however, a rolling steel door set in the far wall inched slowly upwards.
Batgirl saw a row of heavy mechanical feet behind it. "Uh oh," she whispered.
"Harrier! Come in! What's going on?" Oracle slammed her hand down on her desk in frustration. "Air Team's secured their position and is able to lend a hand. Do you need it? Answer!"
She shook her head. "No cameras I can interface with inside the building," she muttered. "I hate this."
"I should be out there with them," Kid Devil said. "I could even the odds." Then he grimaced. "I mean, if I still had my powers. Only I don't. So I guess I have to keep helping them this way instead." He gestured toward his work station. "It's not the same."
"Hey," Oracle was smiling. "At least you'll probably be back out there with them, one night. That's more than I can say."
Eddie blinked. He'd never thought about it before, but somehow he had a feeling that... "You haven't always been... support personnel, have you?"
"I used to be Batgirl." Seeing his stunned expression, she shook her head, still smiling. "It was a long time ago. I'm past that, now." Her smile dimmed. "Mostly. When I'm not stuck here, wondering what the heck is happening, feeling blind as a..." She flipped open the channel again.
"Ground team, can anyone read? Answer, damn it!"
"Maybe they're just in the middle of a fight and can't answer," Kid Devil pointed out.
Oracle sighed. "I know that's probably it," she agreed. Her shoulders slumped. "But I hate not being sure." She turned to face him. "And yes, like you, I do want to just go barrelling in there and save the day like I used to, but instead I'm back here, running data and--"
"Oracle! Now would be a great time to get the Air Team down to the second floor!" Harrier's voice broke in.
"Relaying," Oracle responded smoothly, all business. Once done, she closed the channel. "If he comes back from this in one piece, I may kill him."
Eddie shook his head. "The team's unbalanced enough, as it is. You kill him, that makes me the only guy with three gi..." he stopped. "Three... gorgeous... girls." He cleared his throat. "Did you know he's allergic to mugwort?"
Ravager deflected a laser blast with the flat of her rapier. "You fought these things?" she demanded.
"No. Met." Batgirl cast her grapnel, looping it about one robot's gun arm. That wouldn't hold, she knew. She needed...
Something whipped by her in a blur. Harrier had looped a line of his own around the same arm. "Back up," Harrier told her. Then, in a louder voice, he bellowed, "Ravager! NOW!"
Ravager saw the opportunity immediately. White hair flying, she charged in and thrust her blade into the joint between the robot's arm and torso. There was a harsh, grating creak. The robot wobbled and then fell forward, its full weight supported precariously by its immobilized arm.
"Nice," Ravager approved. Then, "Harrier! Behind you!"
The young man whirled and flung himself to one side. "Time to even these odds," he muttered. "Batgirl, Ravager, plastique, now. Ravager, tell me you use EBWs for blasting caps."
"Yeah," the white-haired teen said dubiously. "But what are we going to do for..." Wonder Girl and Ms. Martian burst into the room. "Ohhhh..."
Harrier reached into one of his belt compartments and pulled out a glob of plastique. "You'd better get this," he told Batgirl as he divided it in two. "You're faster. Don't use too much," he warned as he handed it to her. "We've taken out enough buildings already."
Batgirl nodded.
"What're we doing?" Wonder Girl asked as she looped her lariat around one of the constructs' legs and gave a yank. "I mean, besides taking out these Robby-the-robot rejects?"
"That's pretty much it," Harrier admitted as he slapped the rest of the plastique into her hand. "Help Batgirl. Then fall back and let Ms. Martian take it from there."
Their green-skinned teammate blinked. "What do you want me to do?"
"Focus on the blasting caps Ravager's jamming into the plastique. You're going to have to concentrate your force blasts into a thin beam hot enough to ignite the explosive. Up for it?"
"Just cover me," M'gann said grimly.
"Hang on," Wonder Girl said as she turned to Harrier in confusion. "If she's susceptible to fire, then how...?"
Ms. Martian had heard. "Flames are the problem," she said, as she selected a target. "Not heat." Then, more loudly, "Everyone! Get clear!"
A few moments later, there was nothing left of their adversaries but slag and twisted metal.
"How'd it go with Bruce tonight?" Barbara asked later.
Dick sighed. "Better. And worse. So, pretty much what I expected."
"He's second-guessing you?" Barbara shook her head sympathetically.
"Not exactly. But he wants to. And you want to know something?" Dick closed his eyes. "Part of me really wishes he would. As much as I told him this would only--could only work if we agreed that I was in charge, the fact that he's going along with it just feels..." He sighed again. "I think I miss..." He broke off. "No. That's not it. I don't miss fighting with him. But I'm used to it. It's... I keep bracing myself for one of his controlled explosions or... or..."
"Sulks?"
That got a faint smile. "You make him sound like a five-year-old."
"When he's not in control," Barbara pointed out, "that's how he acts sometimes."
"And he's deliberately given me control." He frowned. "Does that mean that he's controlling the fact that he isn't in..." He exhaled. "I'm giving myself a headache."
Barbara clucked sympathetically. "Poor baby," she teased. "Come here." She pulled him down and kissed his forehead. "Things will look better in the morning," she said with a smile.
"I hope so," he said sleepily.
"I know so." Her smile broadened. "Titans did good tonight. So did Cass."
"They made the collar?"
"They recovered the diamonds, and the Ghost Dragons are cooling their heels down at Central. Still need to nail whoever's been managing their operations, though."
Dick nodded. "Still..." he stifled a yawn.
"Get some sleep," Barbara ordered good-naturedly. "I'll be there in a little bit."
He was about to argue, when another yawn seized him--one he couldn't suppress. "Okay. 'Night."
Barbara watched him go. Then, she turned on her interface with the main Bat cave. As she'd expected, Bruce was there, doing push-ups. His face was set in a fixed grimace and perspiration beaded his brow and darkened his singlet. As she watched, his arms buckled and he fell to the floor with a gasp.
"Get some rest, Bruce," she whispered sympathetically, knowing that he couldn't hear her. "Rome wasn't built in a day."
"Better," Dick grinned up from the mat. "O Goshi, Osoto Gari, Ashi Guruma... how about we leave aside the judo throws for now and move on to grapples?"
"You're still holding back," Bruce said tersely.
Dick blinked. "Well, yeah," he said. "If I weren't, I'd mop the floor with you."
The older man shook his head. "I expect that," he said. "I don't need you to mollycoddle me. I know these moves; I just have to remember them." His eyes seemed to bore into Dick's. "I'm not some green recruit, like Kid Devil, whom you have to build up. The only way I'll do this is if I keep losing to you... until I start winning."
"Like chess," Dick nodded after a moment's thought. "It doesn't matter how many books you read on winning. The only way to become a good player is to lose match after match..."
"...until you master the techniques." Bruce's lips twitched. "It's not quite the same thing, but it's close."
"I hear you." Dick took a deep breath. "Okay. We'll try it your way. Prepare to eat mat."
"Today." The twitch became a smile. "But don't be overly surprised if you find yourself sharing my meal tomorrow."
"Bruce... I've had your roast beef. The mat's going to be an improvement."
Bruce had had enough banter. He charged, Dick sidestepped, and the match was on.
"You're in a good mood, today," Alex remarked as Bruce sat down.
Bruce nodded. "I've been working out. It's been relaxing."
"Understandable," Alex nodded back. "I was going to suggest it, myself, except..." he paused, then added candidly, "I've noticed that suggesting you try something usually has you looking for reasons not to."
Bruce frowned at that, but mentally conceded the point. "How long do you expect me to keep the fish?"
Alex blinked. "Well, there's no set time limit on it. How are they doing, anyway?" he asked.
Bruce shrugged. "I lost one. The others are fine, I suppose. I just don't see how keeping them is supposed to be helping me. And before you start," he added, "I'm familiar with the theories behind the therapy. I just don't see how they apply to me in this case."
Alex thought for a moment. "Keep the fish, for the moment," he said. "You don't have to replace them if they die off, as long as you have... it's still zebra danios, right?" At Bruce's nod, he went on. "You told me you have a 60-gallon tank... Alright. There's no harm in letting the fish have more space than they strictly require. As long as you have a minimum of six of them at any time, that's fine. We can review this again, down the road."
Bruce nodded, impressed despite himself. Alex was clearly familiar with the species and its requirements. Of course, he reminded himself, zebra danios were a common enough species, and one of the hardier tropical fish. Alex probably had many patients who had opted for them. He wished he hadn't let Dick and Jim talk him out of the piranhas.
"For now," Alex said, "I'd like to try something a bit different. If you'll indulge me..."
Jim waited in the cafe across the street, watching the door. When Dick walked in, he got up, straightened his jacket, and reached for his cane. "Let's walk," he said firmly as Dick approached him.
Dick said nothing until they reached the plaza of One Gotham Center and sat down on one of the benches that lined the square. "Okay," he said, finally. "We're not being followed, and nobody's listening. What's up?"
Jim smiled. "Thanks for the confirmation. Keep your eye on the time; we need to head back before Bruce is done. I just wanted to ask you a few things without his overhearing."
"Okay. Did you want a coffee or anything?" He gestured toward a pushcart set up near the Center's main entrance.
"I had one before you showed up. I wanted to voice a concern about what the two of you are doing in the basement. Or rather," he fixed Dick with a meaningful stare, "I have a concern about what he's doing down there when you aren't around."
Dick smiled slowly. "You think he's overdoing."
"I know he is. I've... been listening in remotely," he admitted.
He'd thought as much. "Any particular reason?"
"I'm not trying to catch him breaking the terms of his release, if that's what you're thinking," Jim snapped. "When I saw him working out downstairs, he seemed to be," he hesitated, "driven. He told me you'd agreed to... work with him."
"He's not allowed to wear the suit," Dick pointed out. "The judge never said anything about his not being allowed to train. Besides," he added, "if you want to get technical, he's never legally been allowed to wear the suit, anyhow. It's just that now, the consequences of his getting caught aren't quite so hypothetical, anymore."
"I realize that," Jim said testily. "Let's leave aside, for the moment, the idea that he might read your willingness to train him as though you were condoning a return to the suit. If you are, I don't want to find out about it--"
"I'm not."
"Good." Jim smiled for the first time. "That's a load off. I listened in because I wanted to find out how much of his new regimen was set up by you, and how much of it he's embellished."
"Ah," Dick smiled. "And?"
"He's doing at least three times what you've been asking of him."
Dick's smile broadened. "Really?"
Jim frowned at him. "You're taking this awfully calmly."
Dick said nothing. He simply regarded the older man and waited, still smiling.
After a moment, Jim let loose a small chuckle. "You were expecting him to go beyond your program."
"You got it."
"So, when you assigned him those reps..."
"I told him to do about a quarter of what I figured he'd actually do. He's on-target. Maybe even slightly behind."
Jim punched his arm. "You conniving... you knew I was going to call you out on this, and you've been standing here, laughing at..."
"I've been standing here waiting for you to figure it out. You don't think I've wanted to tell someone about this?"
Jim shook his head, fighting back his laughter. "I ought to..." His voice trailed off. "Fine. Maybe you do know what you're doing, after all." He got up. "We might as well head back, now."
"So, what's wrong with that?" Selina wanted to know.
Bruce stared at her. "It's the most ridiculous, asinine, juvenile... pap... I've ever heard of."
"Spoken like someone who's never browsed the New Age or self-help sections of Boundaries or Shedds & Kingly." She smirked for a moment, then sobered. "Seriously, Bruce, how bad can it be?"
Bruce sighed. "Here," he fished the list out of his inner pocket. "See for yourself."
She took it. "Keep an eye on Helena," she warned. "You wouldn't believe the kind of mischief she can get into if you don't watch her."
"She's over by the fish," Bruce said absently.
"I see her. That doesn't mean that in the next five minutes she won't be trying to catch them, eating their food, or exploring the rest of the... manor. Close the door, please, Bruce, before she starts wandering." She unfolded the paper.
"Nine principles to master happiness and joy?" she read aloud.
"You see?" Bruce shut the door firmly. "It's idiotic."
She looked up at him, her expression enigmatic. "Did you actually read it over?"
Bruce scowled.
Selina sighed. "Look. Just try it. I promise I won't tell the paparazzi. Here. The first one is 'I think appreciatively and gratefully. What am I grateful for now?'" She cocked her head. "Bruce?" After a moment's silence, she took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm grateful you're out. I'm grateful to be back in Gotham. I'm grateful that you're still willing to have me in your life." She smiled. "Your turn."
"This is pointless."
"Do it anyway."
Bruce sighed. "I'm... grateful that my family has stood by me all this time. I'm grateful that some of the people who... left... have come back. I..." his voice trailed off. "What's the next item?"
"This one is just an affirmation, no question attached: 'I speak and act joyfully and kindly'."
Bruce snorted.
"Don't sell yourself short, Handsome. I admit it hasn't happened that often, but it has happened." Her eyes moved down the list. "I assume there is a benefit. What's good about this?"
"Well," Bruce said slowly, "at least you seem to be enjoying it. I wouldn't call that 'bad'." At her raised eyebrow, he sighed. "I suppose it's not that different from various techniques I've employed for meditation or stress management. I can see that a list like this may have applications relevant to problem-solving..."
"Fish!" came a delighted squeal. "Hi, fish! Hi!" A pudgy hand slapped the glass of the aquarium. "Fishy! Lookame!"
"Helena!" Selina thrust the list into his hand and raced to scoop up her daughter. "No. Don't scare the fish, Honey. Here, look." Her voice softened. "Look, don't touch. One fish, two fish..."
"Re' fish! B'u fish!"
"Very good!" Selina laughed. "Except these are blaaaack, and sil-ver. Can you say 'black'?"
"Back."
"Good! And 'sil-ver'?"
Bruce smiled and glanced back to the sheet of paper in his hand. 'I strive for meaningful goals. What's my goal for now?' To finish this exercise. To get one attack past Dick's guard and know that he didn't simply allow it. To eliminate the need for constant supervision. No. That would be a long-term goal. To increase my unsupervised time. He walked over to the desk to get a pen and paper. He needed to write some of this down...
That night, Bruce dreamed that he was standing in the center of a ring of people. He knew them all: his parents, Tommy Elliot, Alfred, Silver, Jason, Julie, Vesper... there seemed to be no end to them.
"The purpose of this exercise," Alex's voice intoned slowly, "is to build trust. Close your eyes, keep your arms by your sides, and sway. The people around you will catch you and push you back toward the center."
If he closed his eyes, he wouldn't know when he was falling until it was too late! Before he could get the words out, Alex continued, "Someone will be there to catch you before you fall. Begin."
He wanted to protest, but all at once, the world went dark. He couldn't see a thing. He tried to reach out before him, but his arms wouldn't move. He struggled to take a step, but he stumbled and fell forward. All at once, he felt the pressure of two hands on his chest, and caught a whiff of Quintana Valore blended with Chanel No. 5 before Vesper pushed him backward--against another pair of hands. Nimble, surgeon's hands--Tommy's hands--pushed him off again, this time toward his mother. This was... not so bad. He was beginning to relax when Alfred pushed him back toward Tommy... and he careened into empty space. He twisted, tried to break his fall with his hands, but his arms wouldn't move. The ground seemed to be farther away... was he on the edge of a trench? But then, a new pair of hands reached out, sending him back to the middle of the circle.
"Got you!" Dick's voice trailed behind him, and then he was hurtling toward his father, once more.
His father pushed him into Jason, who sent him back toward his mother. This time, when her hands weren't there, it was Alfred who caught him. The rhythm picked up, more people fell away--at times he was sure that he was going to hit the ground-- but new hands always caught him.
"You don't actually think we're going to let you fall, do you?" Jim sounded exasperated.
"Won't." Cass. More hands. Barbara, Tim, Selina...
"We're in this together," Dick's voice seemed to grow fainter as Bruce felt himself rise. He was floating out of the circle, hovering above it, but the others remained, their fingers--he knew, without knowing how he knew--meeting, lacing together, and forming a net. "All of us..."
Jim closed the master bedroom door with a feeling of satisfaction. He'd grown used to hearing Bruce talk in his sleep, or, more correctly, to hearing Bruce moan and cry out in his sleep. Tonight, though, it was different. For the first time since he'd moved into the manor, Jim reflected, Bruce's dream didn't appear to be a nightmare. He smiled to himself, and padded down to the kitchen for a pot of herbal tea.
"Well," Jim cocked his head to look up at Bruce, "this is a switch. The other day, you were looking for a way to rehome the fish--at least, that would be the kinder route--and today..."
"I can ask Dick to come with me, if you'd rather," Bruce said as he adjusted the curly brown wig and examined his reflection. A soul patch followed. As he studied the effect, he saw Jim making a face behind him. His lips twitched. "Do you have something to say?"
"Will it make a difference?"
Bruce turned around. "If it helps, I don't enjoy dressing up like this, but I'd rather not run the risk of someone recognizing me."
Jim grunted. "Don't worry. The Bruce Wayne I know wouldn't be caught dead looking like that."
Bruce smiled.
"It wasn't a compliment."
"I know." He pulled on a ratty tweed jacket. "Are you coming?"
Jim sighed and shifted his weight onto his cane. "It's not like I have anything else to do today."
"Sir! Sir, wait! What did I say?"
Bruce didn't look back. He simply jerked his head toward the door. "We're leaving," he said to Jim.
Out on the street, Jim turned to him. "What was that about?"
Bruce was livid. "I don't have to stand there while some jo... clow..." He broke off abruptly, "while some comedian thinks he can get away with making subtle digs at... Never mind. There's another pet supply store a few doors down."
Jim sighed. "You want to tell me exactly what he said to you?"
"It's not important."
"I'd tend to agree," Jim said as he leaned against a storefront, "if this wasn't the third shop you'd stormed out of. Are you sure you weren't reading too much into things?"
Bruce shook his head.
"I don't suppose the persona you're adopting is supposed to be a jerk?" His eyes narrowed.
"No!" Bruce blinked. "Wait. That... that can't be right."
Jim waited for elaboration. It didn't take long.
"There is no way that all three of them saw through the disguise. I might accept one--if he had a good ear for voices--but all three... It doesn't add up."
The former police commissioner sighed. "You sure you don't want to talk about it?"
Bruce shook his head. "I'm not sure what there is to talk about." He took a deep breath. "Fine. I found an attendant. I told him I was looking for fish that would be compatible with the zebra danios I already have. He asked me about the temperature of the tank, the ph-level, the water chemistry..."
"So far, so good," Jim nodded. "And?"
"And he suggested harlequins and clown loaches!"
Jim's eyebrows shot up. All at once, he smiled. "And you thought that meant... Oh, no!" He chuckled. The chuckle became a full-blown laugh. "Oh, this is..." He took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. "Bruce, they're common community fish. Trust me. Your secret is safe."
Bruce felt his face grow hot. "I thought..." he mumbled, embarrassed.
"I know what you thought. Come on. Let's go to that other store you haven't been in, yet. Try not to scare the staff, this time." He clapped a hand to the younger man's shoulder. "Look. Even smart people make silly mistakes, sometimes." He took a deep breath. "If you ever mention this in Barbara's presence, she will know how you found out and things will not bode well for either of us."
They walked a few steps in silence before Bruce prompted him. "Jim?"
"When Barbara was about twelve, she was invited to a classmate's birthday party. Now when you're twelve, at least, this was true for Barbara, it's an age where you want to appear rather... grown up. So, when she went to pick out a birthday present, she took herself down to Killinger's and bypassed the toy department entirely, in favour of the main floor."
Bruce knew the layout. "Jewelry, ladies' handbags and accessories, perfumes, bath... I'm... not seeing the problem."
Jim sighed. "I dropped her off at the main doors and told her I'd be back to pick her up. When she got back into the car, I knew something was wrong. She... well, your performance in the last store reminded me of her, just then. See... she'd gone to the perfume counter to ask about a suitable birthday present for a twelve-year-old." He smiled. "And the saleswoman suggested toilet water."
He couldn't stop his guffaw. "Oh, no!"
"Oh, yes!"
"So..." Dick prompted, still smiling.
"So I went with golden barbs and several varieties of tetras." He stepped back into the calf-raise machine and began another set of repetitions.
"Ah."
Bruce smiled faintly. "I thought that it might help Helena become more familiar with her colors, if there was a greater variety in the aquarium. The zebra fish are rather drab."
"So that's it!" Dick laughed. "We were wondering." Then, all business, he added, "when you finish the next set of reps, we're going to start on escrima."
"Noted," Bruce grunted. For the next few moments, the cave was silent, but for Bruce's breathing and the soft clink of the weights.
"You know," Bruce said as he stepped away from the machine and picked up his pair of sticks, "I think I've... figured out the reasoning behind your training curriculum."
"Oh?" Dick held one escrima in each hand in the open high position.
Bruce lunged. Dick blocked. "When you began wearing the costume, you kept your own fighting style." He blocked Dick's thrust and came back with one of his own. "It didn't matter, since enough people knew that you weren't... me. But if... when I return to the costume, it will be imperative that I maintain your style, at least initially, so that nobody connects the end of my," he made a face, "probation with the emergence of a new Batman."
Dick grinned. "When you're hot, you're hot." Without warning, he surged forward and attacked.
A sharp clack, a smarting wrist, and Bruce's escrima clattered to the ground.
"And when you're not, you're not. Pick 'em up, and I'll walk you through a couple of drills before I head off. Raven asked me to watch the Titans work out before I start patrol tonight."
Six hours later, Barbara squinted at the unfamiliar shape in the night sky. The oval was the same size as the bat-signal, but instead of the familiar logo, it looked... it looked like there was something covering up most of the bat. As she watched, the light went out.
She frowned. Had something got stuck on the symbol? All at once, she went cold. Or did someone get caught inside it? Years ago, Bruce had fought a fourth-stringer named Signalman, who had somehow gained the upper hand, and he'd... Oh, she had to see what was going on at GCPD fast!
It took her a few attempts for her to access the roof cameras atop Central. Panic bred typos... and frustration bred more. When she finally got through, it was to see group of officers gathered around the signal. Montoya and Sawyer were there, too, their expressions inscrutable.
As Barbara watched, someone pried open the signal. There was someone inside. He was wearing the remains of a bat-costume. And he didn't appear to be breathing.
Chapter 13: Risk
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
Chapter 7: Where My Weakness Lies
Chapter 8: Pulled to Pieces
Chapter 9: Foolish Pride
Chapter 10: Learning, Reaching and Dreaming
Chapter 11: Wanting to Share
A/N: Bruce's list taken from Conversations with Yourself by Rabbi Zelig Pliskin (NY, Artscroll, 2007). I am indebted to thetropicaltank.co.uk for information about zebra danios, and appropriate community fish.
"This Is Me Leaving You" lyrics by Mary Chapin Carpenter and John Jennings. Performed by Mary Chapin Carpenter on her Time* Sex* Love* album (Columbia, 2001).
Thanks to Kathy, Debbie, Juliet, and Aiyokusama for the beta!
This is your voice of reason
This is your voice of calm
This is your heart that's speaking
Saying the time has come
Here is your pride and grace now
Here is your strength and soul
Everything's at the ready, you're finally good to go
Mary Chapin Carpenter, "This Is Me Leaving You"
Chapter 12--Pride and Grace
Harrier saw the flare land under the parked Honda and realized in an instant what was about to happen.
"Ravager, MOVE!" He didn't wait for her to react to his order. He sprang forward, caught her about the waist, and flung her down, shielding her body with his own. There was a horrific bang and the two teens felt a blast of heat pass over them.
Beneath him, Ravager struggled to turn her face toward his. "You know, if you wanted to kiss me, you didn't have to be this dramatic about it," she teased.
Harrier flinched. If I tell her I didn't... How sword-resistant is this Kevlar, again? Groaning was the only safe response he could come up with, under the circumstances.
An instant later, Batgirl was crouching next to them. "Okay?"
"Agh! Get off me, you creep!" Ravager struggled to break loose. "I'm fine except for having all this muscle slam into my back."
"Better muscle than shrapnel," Harrier shot back. "What happened?"
Batgirl extended her hands to help her new teammates to their feet. "Lookout." Her voice was disgusted. She gestured toward the top story. "There." Her finger pointed to the window on the far left. "Fired flare gun. Missed you." She pointed toward the remains of a parked car. "Went under."
Ravager began to swear. "Does every lousy crook in this city like fire and explosions?"
"No," Batgirl said shortly. "Joker and Scarecrow like... gas."
"We would've noticed if the motor was on," Ravager snapped, ignoring the comment. "How the hell did it blow up?"
Harrier glanced over his shoulder at the car. "It's an old Prelude," he muttered. "I remember reading about those. There was a design flaw with the fuel tank in the early 80s--it rusts out. Open flame under the body would be enough to cause the blast."
"You can tell all that from the wreckage?"
"No," Harrier said tersely. "I took note of the make and model when we got here. I just didn't plan on its being the Ghost Dragons' security system, or I would have paid closer attention."
Batgirl sighed. "Argue later. Fight now. Inside."
"Ground team, come in! Are you there?"
Harrier activated his comm-link. "Here, Oracle. Sorry. We hit a snag. We're fine."
"Then get in there!" Kid Devil's voice came over the channel, fast and excited. "Wonder Girl just sent out a distress call--they're outnumbered and pinned down!"
"On it," Batgirl called, taking a running leap at the door. It splintered at her kick.
Harrier and Ravager exchanged a quick glance. "Well," Ravager said, unsheathing her swords, "it's not like they didn't already know we were coming. Let's move."
They hurried after their companion.
Wonder Girl peered over the wall of crates and ducked as a laser gun fired. "You okay?" she asked the green-skinned girl next to her.
Miss Martian nodded. "I should be." She sounded disgusted. "It's just..." she closed her eyes, "wearing a force field might protect me from fire, but not from my fear of it. I can smell the smoke from outside."
"You were fine when we had the cookout, our last night in San Francisco," Wonder Girl said thoughtfully. "I mean, you weren't sitting near the grill, but the smoke didn't really faze you." She rose again, cried out in surprise, and held up her forearms to deflect an incoming blast.
"That fire was under control," M'gann protested as Cassie slid back down.
"I know. But can't you pretend this smoke is also from a barbecue? A big one?"
Miss Martian seemed to think it over. Her jaw hardened. "I can do something about the lasers, at least," she said grimly. Her eyes glowed red. She spun about, rose, and targeted one of the large robots. "Match them in kind!"
Wonder Girl smiled. "Well, alright!" she whispered. Then louder, "Cover me!" as she took to the air.
She hoped the ground team would arrive shortly, but the situation was nowhere near as dire as it had appeared a moment ago.
One floor below, Harrier, Batgirl and Ravager found themselves facing eight angry youths in Ghost Dragon garb and face paint.
"Watch out," Harrier cautioned, as a shower of shuriken came toward them. "Our costumes should shield us, but make sure none of those blades hit your face."
Batgirl nodded. "Might be poisoned." Her voice was dispassionate, as though the matter was purely one for academic discussion.
Ravager scowled. Her costume was the only one without a full face-mask. "Well, he won't throw them my way if he'll risk hitting his friends," she snapped. So saying, she charged the 'Dragons' ranks, blades extended.
Harrier let loose with a salvo of his own. In the old days, his throwing knives would have been R-shaped. Now, they were stylized "H"s, the down-strokes razor-sharp half-circles, linked by a flat horizontal bar. There were shouts of dismay as the blades sank into arms, legs, and torsos.
Batgirl took a running leap and catapulted into their midst. Without missing a beat, she lashed out at her adversaries with her feet and fists.
The Ghost Dragons fought back, but the outcome of the battle was never in doubt as the three vigilantes pummelled and pounded them into submission.
As Harrier delivered an uppercut to the last 'Dragon standing, however, a rolling steel door set in the far wall inched slowly upwards.
Batgirl saw a row of heavy mechanical feet behind it. "Uh oh," she whispered.
"Harrier! Come in! What's going on?" Oracle slammed her hand down on her desk in frustration. "Air Team's secured their position and is able to lend a hand. Do you need it? Answer!"
She shook her head. "No cameras I can interface with inside the building," she muttered. "I hate this."
"I should be out there with them," Kid Devil said. "I could even the odds." Then he grimaced. "I mean, if I still had my powers. Only I don't. So I guess I have to keep helping them this way instead." He gestured toward his work station. "It's not the same."
"Hey," Oracle was smiling. "At least you'll probably be back out there with them, one night. That's more than I can say."
Eddie blinked. He'd never thought about it before, but somehow he had a feeling that... "You haven't always been... support personnel, have you?"
"I used to be Batgirl." Seeing his stunned expression, she shook her head, still smiling. "It was a long time ago. I'm past that, now." Her smile dimmed. "Mostly. When I'm not stuck here, wondering what the heck is happening, feeling blind as a..." She flipped open the channel again.
"Ground team, can anyone read? Answer, damn it!"
"Maybe they're just in the middle of a fight and can't answer," Kid Devil pointed out.
Oracle sighed. "I know that's probably it," she agreed. Her shoulders slumped. "But I hate not being sure." She turned to face him. "And yes, like you, I do want to just go barrelling in there and save the day like I used to, but instead I'm back here, running data and--"
"Oracle! Now would be a great time to get the Air Team down to the second floor!" Harrier's voice broke in.
"Relaying," Oracle responded smoothly, all business. Once done, she closed the channel. "If he comes back from this in one piece, I may kill him."
Eddie shook his head. "The team's unbalanced enough, as it is. You kill him, that makes me the only guy with three gi..." he stopped. "Three... gorgeous... girls." He cleared his throat. "Did you know he's allergic to mugwort?"
Ravager deflected a laser blast with the flat of her rapier. "You fought these things?" she demanded.
"No. Met." Batgirl cast her grapnel, looping it about one robot's gun arm. That wouldn't hold, she knew. She needed...
Something whipped by her in a blur. Harrier had looped a line of his own around the same arm. "Back up," Harrier told her. Then, in a louder voice, he bellowed, "Ravager! NOW!"
Ravager saw the opportunity immediately. White hair flying, she charged in and thrust her blade into the joint between the robot's arm and torso. There was a harsh, grating creak. The robot wobbled and then fell forward, its full weight supported precariously by its immobilized arm.
"Nice," Ravager approved. Then, "Harrier! Behind you!"
The young man whirled and flung himself to one side. "Time to even these odds," he muttered. "Batgirl, Ravager, plastique, now. Ravager, tell me you use EBWs for blasting caps."
"Yeah," the white-haired teen said dubiously. "But what are we going to do for..." Wonder Girl and Ms. Martian burst into the room. "Ohhhh..."
Harrier reached into one of his belt compartments and pulled out a glob of plastique. "You'd better get this," he told Batgirl as he divided it in two. "You're faster. Don't use too much," he warned as he handed it to her. "We've taken out enough buildings already."
Batgirl nodded.
"What're we doing?" Wonder Girl asked as she looped her lariat around one of the constructs' legs and gave a yank. "I mean, besides taking out these Robby-the-robot rejects?"
"That's pretty much it," Harrier admitted as he slapped the rest of the plastique into her hand. "Help Batgirl. Then fall back and let Ms. Martian take it from there."
Their green-skinned teammate blinked. "What do you want me to do?"
"Focus on the blasting caps Ravager's jamming into the plastique. You're going to have to concentrate your force blasts into a thin beam hot enough to ignite the explosive. Up for it?"
"Just cover me," M'gann said grimly.
"Hang on," Wonder Girl said as she turned to Harrier in confusion. "If she's susceptible to fire, then how...?"
Ms. Martian had heard. "Flames are the problem," she said, as she selected a target. "Not heat." Then, more loudly, "Everyone! Get clear!"
A few moments later, there was nothing left of their adversaries but slag and twisted metal.
"How'd it go with Bruce tonight?" Barbara asked later.
Dick sighed. "Better. And worse. So, pretty much what I expected."
"He's second-guessing you?" Barbara shook her head sympathetically.
"Not exactly. But he wants to. And you want to know something?" Dick closed his eyes. "Part of me really wishes he would. As much as I told him this would only--could only work if we agreed that I was in charge, the fact that he's going along with it just feels..." He sighed again. "I think I miss..." He broke off. "No. That's not it. I don't miss fighting with him. But I'm used to it. It's... I keep bracing myself for one of his controlled explosions or... or..."
"Sulks?"
That got a faint smile. "You make him sound like a five-year-old."
"When he's not in control," Barbara pointed out, "that's how he acts sometimes."
"And he's deliberately given me control." He frowned. "Does that mean that he's controlling the fact that he isn't in..." He exhaled. "I'm giving myself a headache."
Barbara clucked sympathetically. "Poor baby," she teased. "Come here." She pulled him down and kissed his forehead. "Things will look better in the morning," she said with a smile.
"I hope so," he said sleepily.
"I know so." Her smile broadened. "Titans did good tonight. So did Cass."
"They made the collar?"
"They recovered the diamonds, and the Ghost Dragons are cooling their heels down at Central. Still need to nail whoever's been managing their operations, though."
Dick nodded. "Still..." he stifled a yawn.
"Get some sleep," Barbara ordered good-naturedly. "I'll be there in a little bit."
He was about to argue, when another yawn seized him--one he couldn't suppress. "Okay. 'Night."
Barbara watched him go. Then, she turned on her interface with the main Bat cave. As she'd expected, Bruce was there, doing push-ups. His face was set in a fixed grimace and perspiration beaded his brow and darkened his singlet. As she watched, his arms buckled and he fell to the floor with a gasp.
"Get some rest, Bruce," she whispered sympathetically, knowing that he couldn't hear her. "Rome wasn't built in a day."
"Better," Dick grinned up from the mat. "O Goshi, Osoto Gari, Ashi Guruma... how about we leave aside the judo throws for now and move on to grapples?"
"You're still holding back," Bruce said tersely.
Dick blinked. "Well, yeah," he said. "If I weren't, I'd mop the floor with you."
The older man shook his head. "I expect that," he said. "I don't need you to mollycoddle me. I know these moves; I just have to remember them." His eyes seemed to bore into Dick's. "I'm not some green recruit, like Kid Devil, whom you have to build up. The only way I'll do this is if I keep losing to you... until I start winning."
"Like chess," Dick nodded after a moment's thought. "It doesn't matter how many books you read on winning. The only way to become a good player is to lose match after match..."
"...until you master the techniques." Bruce's lips twitched. "It's not quite the same thing, but it's close."
"I hear you." Dick took a deep breath. "Okay. We'll try it your way. Prepare to eat mat."
"Today." The twitch became a smile. "But don't be overly surprised if you find yourself sharing my meal tomorrow."
"Bruce... I've had your roast beef. The mat's going to be an improvement."
Bruce had had enough banter. He charged, Dick sidestepped, and the match was on.
"You're in a good mood, today," Alex remarked as Bruce sat down.
Bruce nodded. "I've been working out. It's been relaxing."
"Understandable," Alex nodded back. "I was going to suggest it, myself, except..." he paused, then added candidly, "I've noticed that suggesting you try something usually has you looking for reasons not to."
Bruce frowned at that, but mentally conceded the point. "How long do you expect me to keep the fish?"
Alex blinked. "Well, there's no set time limit on it. How are they doing, anyway?" he asked.
Bruce shrugged. "I lost one. The others are fine, I suppose. I just don't see how keeping them is supposed to be helping me. And before you start," he added, "I'm familiar with the theories behind the therapy. I just don't see how they apply to me in this case."
Alex thought for a moment. "Keep the fish, for the moment," he said. "You don't have to replace them if they die off, as long as you have... it's still zebra danios, right?" At Bruce's nod, he went on. "You told me you have a 60-gallon tank... Alright. There's no harm in letting the fish have more space than they strictly require. As long as you have a minimum of six of them at any time, that's fine. We can review this again, down the road."
Bruce nodded, impressed despite himself. Alex was clearly familiar with the species and its requirements. Of course, he reminded himself, zebra danios were a common enough species, and one of the hardier tropical fish. Alex probably had many patients who had opted for them. He wished he hadn't let Dick and Jim talk him out of the piranhas.
"For now," Alex said, "I'd like to try something a bit different. If you'll indulge me..."
Jim waited in the cafe across the street, watching the door. When Dick walked in, he got up, straightened his jacket, and reached for his cane. "Let's walk," he said firmly as Dick approached him.
Dick said nothing until they reached the plaza of One Gotham Center and sat down on one of the benches that lined the square. "Okay," he said, finally. "We're not being followed, and nobody's listening. What's up?"
Jim smiled. "Thanks for the confirmation. Keep your eye on the time; we need to head back before Bruce is done. I just wanted to ask you a few things without his overhearing."
"Okay. Did you want a coffee or anything?" He gestured toward a pushcart set up near the Center's main entrance.
"I had one before you showed up. I wanted to voice a concern about what the two of you are doing in the basement. Or rather," he fixed Dick with a meaningful stare, "I have a concern about what he's doing down there when you aren't around."
Dick smiled slowly. "You think he's overdoing."
"I know he is. I've... been listening in remotely," he admitted.
He'd thought as much. "Any particular reason?"
"I'm not trying to catch him breaking the terms of his release, if that's what you're thinking," Jim snapped. "When I saw him working out downstairs, he seemed to be," he hesitated, "driven. He told me you'd agreed to... work with him."
"He's not allowed to wear the suit," Dick pointed out. "The judge never said anything about his not being allowed to train. Besides," he added, "if you want to get technical, he's never legally been allowed to wear the suit, anyhow. It's just that now, the consequences of his getting caught aren't quite so hypothetical, anymore."
"I realize that," Jim said testily. "Let's leave aside, for the moment, the idea that he might read your willingness to train him as though you were condoning a return to the suit. If you are, I don't want to find out about it--"
"I'm not."
"Good." Jim smiled for the first time. "That's a load off. I listened in because I wanted to find out how much of his new regimen was set up by you, and how much of it he's embellished."
"Ah," Dick smiled. "And?"
"He's doing at least three times what you've been asking of him."
Dick's smile broadened. "Really?"
Jim frowned at him. "You're taking this awfully calmly."
Dick said nothing. He simply regarded the older man and waited, still smiling.
After a moment, Jim let loose a small chuckle. "You were expecting him to go beyond your program."
"You got it."
"So, when you assigned him those reps..."
"I told him to do about a quarter of what I figured he'd actually do. He's on-target. Maybe even slightly behind."
Jim punched his arm. "You conniving... you knew I was going to call you out on this, and you've been standing here, laughing at..."
"I've been standing here waiting for you to figure it out. You don't think I've wanted to tell someone about this?"
Jim shook his head, fighting back his laughter. "I ought to..." His voice trailed off. "Fine. Maybe you do know what you're doing, after all." He got up. "We might as well head back, now."
"So, what's wrong with that?" Selina wanted to know.
Bruce stared at her. "It's the most ridiculous, asinine, juvenile... pap... I've ever heard of."
"Spoken like someone who's never browsed the New Age or self-help sections of Boundaries or Shedds & Kingly." She smirked for a moment, then sobered. "Seriously, Bruce, how bad can it be?"
Bruce sighed. "Here," he fished the list out of his inner pocket. "See for yourself."
She took it. "Keep an eye on Helena," she warned. "You wouldn't believe the kind of mischief she can get into if you don't watch her."
"She's over by the fish," Bruce said absently.
"I see her. That doesn't mean that in the next five minutes she won't be trying to catch them, eating their food, or exploring the rest of the... manor. Close the door, please, Bruce, before she starts wandering." She unfolded the paper.
"Nine principles to master happiness and joy?" she read aloud.
"You see?" Bruce shut the door firmly. "It's idiotic."
She looked up at him, her expression enigmatic. "Did you actually read it over?"
Bruce scowled.
Selina sighed. "Look. Just try it. I promise I won't tell the paparazzi. Here. The first one is 'I think appreciatively and gratefully. What am I grateful for now?'" She cocked her head. "Bruce?" After a moment's silence, she took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm grateful you're out. I'm grateful to be back in Gotham. I'm grateful that you're still willing to have me in your life." She smiled. "Your turn."
"This is pointless."
"Do it anyway."
Bruce sighed. "I'm... grateful that my family has stood by me all this time. I'm grateful that some of the people who... left... have come back. I..." his voice trailed off. "What's the next item?"
"This one is just an affirmation, no question attached: 'I speak and act joyfully and kindly'."
Bruce snorted.
"Don't sell yourself short, Handsome. I admit it hasn't happened that often, but it has happened." Her eyes moved down the list. "I assume there is a benefit. What's good about this?"
"Well," Bruce said slowly, "at least you seem to be enjoying it. I wouldn't call that 'bad'." At her raised eyebrow, he sighed. "I suppose it's not that different from various techniques I've employed for meditation or stress management. I can see that a list like this may have applications relevant to problem-solving..."
"Fish!" came a delighted squeal. "Hi, fish! Hi!" A pudgy hand slapped the glass of the aquarium. "Fishy! Lookame!"
"Helena!" Selina thrust the list into his hand and raced to scoop up her daughter. "No. Don't scare the fish, Honey. Here, look." Her voice softened. "Look, don't touch. One fish, two fish..."
"Re' fish! B'u fish!"
"Very good!" Selina laughed. "Except these are blaaaack, and sil-ver. Can you say 'black'?"
"Back."
"Good! And 'sil-ver'?"
Bruce smiled and glanced back to the sheet of paper in his hand. 'I strive for meaningful goals. What's my goal for now?' To finish this exercise. To get one attack past Dick's guard and know that he didn't simply allow it. To eliminate the need for constant supervision. No. That would be a long-term goal. To increase my unsupervised time. He walked over to the desk to get a pen and paper. He needed to write some of this down...
That night, Bruce dreamed that he was standing in the center of a ring of people. He knew them all: his parents, Tommy Elliot, Alfred, Silver, Jason, Julie, Vesper... there seemed to be no end to them.
"The purpose of this exercise," Alex's voice intoned slowly, "is to build trust. Close your eyes, keep your arms by your sides, and sway. The people around you will catch you and push you back toward the center."
If he closed his eyes, he wouldn't know when he was falling until it was too late! Before he could get the words out, Alex continued, "Someone will be there to catch you before you fall. Begin."
He wanted to protest, but all at once, the world went dark. He couldn't see a thing. He tried to reach out before him, but his arms wouldn't move. He struggled to take a step, but he stumbled and fell forward. All at once, he felt the pressure of two hands on his chest, and caught a whiff of Quintana Valore blended with Chanel No. 5 before Vesper pushed him backward--against another pair of hands. Nimble, surgeon's hands--Tommy's hands--pushed him off again, this time toward his mother. This was... not so bad. He was beginning to relax when Alfred pushed him back toward Tommy... and he careened into empty space. He twisted, tried to break his fall with his hands, but his arms wouldn't move. The ground seemed to be farther away... was he on the edge of a trench? But then, a new pair of hands reached out, sending him back to the middle of the circle.
"Got you!" Dick's voice trailed behind him, and then he was hurtling toward his father, once more.
His father pushed him into Jason, who sent him back toward his mother. This time, when her hands weren't there, it was Alfred who caught him. The rhythm picked up, more people fell away--at times he was sure that he was going to hit the ground-- but new hands always caught him.
"You don't actually think we're going to let you fall, do you?" Jim sounded exasperated.
"Won't." Cass. More hands. Barbara, Tim, Selina...
"We're in this together," Dick's voice seemed to grow fainter as Bruce felt himself rise. He was floating out of the circle, hovering above it, but the others remained, their fingers--he knew, without knowing how he knew--meeting, lacing together, and forming a net. "All of us..."
Jim closed the master bedroom door with a feeling of satisfaction. He'd grown used to hearing Bruce talk in his sleep, or, more correctly, to hearing Bruce moan and cry out in his sleep. Tonight, though, it was different. For the first time since he'd moved into the manor, Jim reflected, Bruce's dream didn't appear to be a nightmare. He smiled to himself, and padded down to the kitchen for a pot of herbal tea.
"Well," Jim cocked his head to look up at Bruce, "this is a switch. The other day, you were looking for a way to rehome the fish--at least, that would be the kinder route--and today..."
"I can ask Dick to come with me, if you'd rather," Bruce said as he adjusted the curly brown wig and examined his reflection. A soul patch followed. As he studied the effect, he saw Jim making a face behind him. His lips twitched. "Do you have something to say?"
"Will it make a difference?"
Bruce turned around. "If it helps, I don't enjoy dressing up like this, but I'd rather not run the risk of someone recognizing me."
Jim grunted. "Don't worry. The Bruce Wayne I know wouldn't be caught dead looking like that."
Bruce smiled.
"It wasn't a compliment."
"I know." He pulled on a ratty tweed jacket. "Are you coming?"
Jim sighed and shifted his weight onto his cane. "It's not like I have anything else to do today."
"Sir! Sir, wait! What did I say?"
Bruce didn't look back. He simply jerked his head toward the door. "We're leaving," he said to Jim.
Out on the street, Jim turned to him. "What was that about?"
Bruce was livid. "I don't have to stand there while some jo... clow..." He broke off abruptly, "while some comedian thinks he can get away with making subtle digs at... Never mind. There's another pet supply store a few doors down."
Jim sighed. "You want to tell me exactly what he said to you?"
"It's not important."
"I'd tend to agree," Jim said as he leaned against a storefront, "if this wasn't the third shop you'd stormed out of. Are you sure you weren't reading too much into things?"
Bruce shook his head.
"I don't suppose the persona you're adopting is supposed to be a jerk?" His eyes narrowed.
"No!" Bruce blinked. "Wait. That... that can't be right."
Jim waited for elaboration. It didn't take long.
"There is no way that all three of them saw through the disguise. I might accept one--if he had a good ear for voices--but all three... It doesn't add up."
The former police commissioner sighed. "You sure you don't want to talk about it?"
Bruce shook his head. "I'm not sure what there is to talk about." He took a deep breath. "Fine. I found an attendant. I told him I was looking for fish that would be compatible with the zebra danios I already have. He asked me about the temperature of the tank, the ph-level, the water chemistry..."
"So far, so good," Jim nodded. "And?"
"And he suggested harlequins and clown loaches!"
Jim's eyebrows shot up. All at once, he smiled. "And you thought that meant... Oh, no!" He chuckled. The chuckle became a full-blown laugh. "Oh, this is..." He took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. "Bruce, they're common community fish. Trust me. Your secret is safe."
Bruce felt his face grow hot. "I thought..." he mumbled, embarrassed.
"I know what you thought. Come on. Let's go to that other store you haven't been in, yet. Try not to scare the staff, this time." He clapped a hand to the younger man's shoulder. "Look. Even smart people make silly mistakes, sometimes." He took a deep breath. "If you ever mention this in Barbara's presence, she will know how you found out and things will not bode well for either of us."
They walked a few steps in silence before Bruce prompted him. "Jim?"
"When Barbara was about twelve, she was invited to a classmate's birthday party. Now when you're twelve, at least, this was true for Barbara, it's an age where you want to appear rather... grown up. So, when she went to pick out a birthday present, she took herself down to Killinger's and bypassed the toy department entirely, in favour of the main floor."
Bruce knew the layout. "Jewelry, ladies' handbags and accessories, perfumes, bath... I'm... not seeing the problem."
Jim sighed. "I dropped her off at the main doors and told her I'd be back to pick her up. When she got back into the car, I knew something was wrong. She... well, your performance in the last store reminded me of her, just then. See... she'd gone to the perfume counter to ask about a suitable birthday present for a twelve-year-old." He smiled. "And the saleswoman suggested toilet water."
He couldn't stop his guffaw. "Oh, no!"
"Oh, yes!"
"So..." Dick prompted, still smiling.
"So I went with golden barbs and several varieties of tetras." He stepped back into the calf-raise machine and began another set of repetitions.
"Ah."
Bruce smiled faintly. "I thought that it might help Helena become more familiar with her colors, if there was a greater variety in the aquarium. The zebra fish are rather drab."
"So that's it!" Dick laughed. "We were wondering." Then, all business, he added, "when you finish the next set of reps, we're going to start on escrima."
"Noted," Bruce grunted. For the next few moments, the cave was silent, but for Bruce's breathing and the soft clink of the weights.
"You know," Bruce said as he stepped away from the machine and picked up his pair of sticks, "I think I've... figured out the reasoning behind your training curriculum."
"Oh?" Dick held one escrima in each hand in the open high position.
Bruce lunged. Dick blocked. "When you began wearing the costume, you kept your own fighting style." He blocked Dick's thrust and came back with one of his own. "It didn't matter, since enough people knew that you weren't... me. But if... when I return to the costume, it will be imperative that I maintain your style, at least initially, so that nobody connects the end of my," he made a face, "probation with the emergence of a new Batman."
Dick grinned. "When you're hot, you're hot." Without warning, he surged forward and attacked.
A sharp clack, a smarting wrist, and Bruce's escrima clattered to the ground.
"And when you're not, you're not. Pick 'em up, and I'll walk you through a couple of drills before I head off. Raven asked me to watch the Titans work out before I start patrol tonight."
Six hours later, Barbara squinted at the unfamiliar shape in the night sky. The oval was the same size as the bat-signal, but instead of the familiar logo, it looked... it looked like there was something covering up most of the bat. As she watched, the light went out.
She frowned. Had something got stuck on the symbol? All at once, she went cold. Or did someone get caught inside it? Years ago, Bruce had fought a fourth-stringer named Signalman, who had somehow gained the upper hand, and he'd... Oh, she had to see what was going on at GCPD fast!
It took her a few attempts for her to access the roof cameras atop Central. Panic bred typos... and frustration bred more. When she finally got through, it was to see group of officers gathered around the signal. Montoya and Sawyer were there, too, their expressions inscrutable.
As Barbara watched, someone pried open the signal. There was someone inside. He was wearing the remains of a bat-costume. And he didn't appear to be breathing.
Chapter 13: Risk