A/N: This is my first fanfic of any kind, and I apologize for the poor quality of it. I consider it a vignette,
perhaps a pointless vignette, but I enjoyed writing it. I was considering making it a collection of vignettes
(that's why the titles are different), all relevant to the same basic plotline that is exhibited here, but I wasn't
sure how the readers would enjoy my writing, or want to hear more of this sort of thing. So, once again, I
apologize if I am doing injustices to any aspect of Batman Beyond. Please flame gently.
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman Beyond; it is the exclusive property of KidsWB and probably some other
company that I'm not aware of
Shadows on Years and Faces
The briefcase sat on my lap, and I tugged at my tie uncomfortably. I had never quite grown accustomed to
wearing the entire full business attire. Then again, I was foolish enough to become a professor at such a
young age. I could have just kicked back, relaxed a couple of years, let a little fun into my life. But, much
as I like to claim it didn't, what happened hurt me pretty badly. Of course, that's to be expected, but still. I
don't think he'd like to see me so let down over all of it. But it doesn't really matter, I guess. Having fun
after everything he went through; it'd just seem sacrilege.
I gazed about, at the familiar skyscrapers and the streets below. Familiar scenes were starting to pop up.
Dana's favorite restaurant, the WaynePowers building, the mall, the dance club. His father's former home.
The Jokerz hang out. Everything that had so greatly been a part of his life. And a part of mine. I was
coming home again. But there was something that I had to do, first.
The monorail jerked to a stop. The doors slid open, and I blankly stared through the steady stream of faces
that flowed in both directions. He had gone out, night after night, to help these people. He had sacrificed
his girlfriend, his school, his life to help them. And in the end, none of them cared. Those who did merely
heartlessly interrogated his family, not to mention ripping deeply into the personal haggard past of his
bitterly taciturn mentor. Working alongside of him had always been so much fun, but that was for me,
from the comfort of my apartment with the accompaniment of my laptop. I wasn't the one putting my life
on the line. I wonder what he thought he had achieved. I know he felt a responsibility, but still. Was it
really worth his innocence, his family's security, his life?
My eyes clapped onto a familiar face, and for a minute, I could feel my heart leap into my mouth. It always
did whenever I saw that face, and I would wonder if these past nine years had all been some awful
nightmare. But you can't really live your entire adult life thinking it was a nightmare. And anyway, those
eyes were a steady brown, instead of that crystal clear ice blue. But other than that, the tall slender frame,
the thin pale lips pressed together, and the knifelike locks of hair falling across his forehead made the youth
before me look identical to the friend I once knew. He gave me a curt nod, which I returned, noticing at the
same time that the grim expression he had since I last saw him had not improved; if anything, the lines
were deepened. I quickly bowed my head before the tears could be seen, thinking to myself that he was so
old, for someone just turned seventeen, so old, for someone I once served as a babysitter. The happier days
from so long ago were now gone forever. The bitter young man before me was once the mischievous,
frisky rascal that was both annoying and loveable. It didn't help that Matt McGinnis was a spitting clone of
older his brother.
I glanced at his pale, worn face as he sat down opposite of me, then dropped my line of sight to the flowers
that rested on his lap. I felt tempted to ask if they were for a girl, but I had seen the vast changes in Matt in
the years of his brother's death. No such frivolities for him now. I knew he was going to the same place I
was.
Sighing, I returned my attention to my twiddling thumbs. I couldn't blame him for that grim, harrowing
expression that haunted his eyes and lined his face. How many kids in this world had both their father and
brother die violent deaths, and witnessed attempted suicide by their mother, all in the eighth year of their
life? Still, watching the boy I once knew, spiraling deeper and deeper into depression each time I saw him,
it didn't really seem like this was the type of mood Terry had meant to cloud his little brother's future.
Then again, Terry hadn't meant to cloud anyone's life. Not his brother's, not his mother's, not his
girlfriend's, not Bruce Wayne's.
Almost on cue, I stiffened as the news broadcast echoed that familiar name. "We have just received word
that Bruce Wayne, the multi-millionaire industrialist who was discovered to be Batman almost ten years
ago, was found dead this morning by unknown causes . . ."
The usual bustle of the railcar went on as though nothing had happened. So this is what they think of
Batman, I mused with a bitterness very much unlike my usual personality. After all he gave to them, after
all Terry gave to them, they don't even care!
Only one movement caught my eye. Matt had jerked his head upright, and was staring lividly at the screen
in horror. His eyes had blanked, and his mouth hung half open. I watched him, and I knew what his
thoughts were, for I struggled with the reminder of my own repressed nightmares. Both of us thought back
to that harrowing day, this day nine years ago, and once again, I wished that there was some way I could
protect the young man, only a boy, from the pain he was now reliving . . .
A/N: umm… so what'd you think? In case you didn't figure it out, this was from Max Gibson's point of
view. Also, I'm aware that many sources say that Matt is ten years old during Terry's reign as the Dark
Knight, but I think of Matt as an eight-year-old and I was satisfied with that one source which agreed with
me. Anyways, (don't criticize me for the use of the word, I know it's not real but I love it anyways) I'd
like a small amount of feedback if it has potential for being continued. And please don't flame me if you
have a strong desire to contradict. Thank you for your time and consideration.
perhaps a pointless vignette, but I enjoyed writing it. I was considering making it a collection of vignettes
(that's why the titles are different), all relevant to the same basic plotline that is exhibited here, but I wasn't
sure how the readers would enjoy my writing, or want to hear more of this sort of thing. So, once again, I
apologize if I am doing injustices to any aspect of Batman Beyond. Please flame gently.
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman Beyond; it is the exclusive property of KidsWB and probably some other
company that I'm not aware of
Shadows on Years and Faces
The briefcase sat on my lap, and I tugged at my tie uncomfortably. I had never quite grown accustomed to
wearing the entire full business attire. Then again, I was foolish enough to become a professor at such a
young age. I could have just kicked back, relaxed a couple of years, let a little fun into my life. But, much
as I like to claim it didn't, what happened hurt me pretty badly. Of course, that's to be expected, but still. I
don't think he'd like to see me so let down over all of it. But it doesn't really matter, I guess. Having fun
after everything he went through; it'd just seem sacrilege.
I gazed about, at the familiar skyscrapers and the streets below. Familiar scenes were starting to pop up.
Dana's favorite restaurant, the WaynePowers building, the mall, the dance club. His father's former home.
The Jokerz hang out. Everything that had so greatly been a part of his life. And a part of mine. I was
coming home again. But there was something that I had to do, first.
The monorail jerked to a stop. The doors slid open, and I blankly stared through the steady stream of faces
that flowed in both directions. He had gone out, night after night, to help these people. He had sacrificed
his girlfriend, his school, his life to help them. And in the end, none of them cared. Those who did merely
heartlessly interrogated his family, not to mention ripping deeply into the personal haggard past of his
bitterly taciturn mentor. Working alongside of him had always been so much fun, but that was for me,
from the comfort of my apartment with the accompaniment of my laptop. I wasn't the one putting my life
on the line. I wonder what he thought he had achieved. I know he felt a responsibility, but still. Was it
really worth his innocence, his family's security, his life?
My eyes clapped onto a familiar face, and for a minute, I could feel my heart leap into my mouth. It always
did whenever I saw that face, and I would wonder if these past nine years had all been some awful
nightmare. But you can't really live your entire adult life thinking it was a nightmare. And anyway, those
eyes were a steady brown, instead of that crystal clear ice blue. But other than that, the tall slender frame,
the thin pale lips pressed together, and the knifelike locks of hair falling across his forehead made the youth
before me look identical to the friend I once knew. He gave me a curt nod, which I returned, noticing at the
same time that the grim expression he had since I last saw him had not improved; if anything, the lines
were deepened. I quickly bowed my head before the tears could be seen, thinking to myself that he was so
old, for someone just turned seventeen, so old, for someone I once served as a babysitter. The happier days
from so long ago were now gone forever. The bitter young man before me was once the mischievous,
frisky rascal that was both annoying and loveable. It didn't help that Matt McGinnis was a spitting clone of
older his brother.
I glanced at his pale, worn face as he sat down opposite of me, then dropped my line of sight to the flowers
that rested on his lap. I felt tempted to ask if they were for a girl, but I had seen the vast changes in Matt in
the years of his brother's death. No such frivolities for him now. I knew he was going to the same place I
was.
Sighing, I returned my attention to my twiddling thumbs. I couldn't blame him for that grim, harrowing
expression that haunted his eyes and lined his face. How many kids in this world had both their father and
brother die violent deaths, and witnessed attempted suicide by their mother, all in the eighth year of their
life? Still, watching the boy I once knew, spiraling deeper and deeper into depression each time I saw him,
it didn't really seem like this was the type of mood Terry had meant to cloud his little brother's future.
Then again, Terry hadn't meant to cloud anyone's life. Not his brother's, not his mother's, not his
girlfriend's, not Bruce Wayne's.
Almost on cue, I stiffened as the news broadcast echoed that familiar name. "We have just received word
that Bruce Wayne, the multi-millionaire industrialist who was discovered to be Batman almost ten years
ago, was found dead this morning by unknown causes . . ."
The usual bustle of the railcar went on as though nothing had happened. So this is what they think of
Batman, I mused with a bitterness very much unlike my usual personality. After all he gave to them, after
all Terry gave to them, they don't even care!
Only one movement caught my eye. Matt had jerked his head upright, and was staring lividly at the screen
in horror. His eyes had blanked, and his mouth hung half open. I watched him, and I knew what his
thoughts were, for I struggled with the reminder of my own repressed nightmares. Both of us thought back
to that harrowing day, this day nine years ago, and once again, I wished that there was some way I could
protect the young man, only a boy, from the pain he was now reliving . . .
A/N: umm… so what'd you think? In case you didn't figure it out, this was from Max Gibson's point of
view. Also, I'm aware that many sources say that Matt is ten years old during Terry's reign as the Dark
Knight, but I think of Matt as an eight-year-old and I was satisfied with that one source which agreed with
me. Anyways, (don't criticize me for the use of the word, I know it's not real but I love it anyways) I'd
like a small amount of feedback if it has potential for being continued. And please don't flame me if you
have a strong desire to contradict. Thank you for your time and consideration.