This takes place after Batman #603, but more specifically after the Bruce Wayne: Fugitive arc. Bruce's life is slowly getting back to normal after having been arrested and acquitted of Vesper Fairchild's murder. Now, he has been asked by a dying man, former Detective Gary Sloan, to look into an unsolved case.
I let out a sigh as I settled into the chair in front of my computer in the cave. I had just returned from patrolling Gotham for the night and was now about to enter the encounters I'd had during that time into my logs. Just as my fingers hit the keyboard, my eyes caught on a cardboard box sitting nearby, and I was reminded of my late night meeting with Detective Gary Sloan a few weeks ago.
"Well, like I said before, my whole time as a lead investigator, there was only one case I never closed. And now with Gordon off the force, there's no cop I'd trust with it. So I want you to take over my last case."
The case that Sloan had been talking about was the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne. He had stated that perhaps Batman could find things that he himself hadn't been able to find.
That had been during a dark part of my life, having been arrested for Vesper's murder and casting off the name 'Bruce Wayne.' Very few people had believed in my innocence, and I had seen it as an opportunity to discard the identity of Bruce Wayne and become Batman full time. Then I had talked with former Detective Sloan, and something the old man said had struck a nerve.
"I don't believe Bruce Wayne murdered that woman, either. That boy was changed that night, for sure. But it wasn't into a killer."
That very same night, I had contacted Oracle and asked for her help in clearing my name. And we had. It had been difficult, to say the least, but with Dick, Barbara, Tim, and Cassandra helping me, we had been able to discover the real murderer and bring him to justice.
I moved my right hand over the button to exit the computer program and hesitated. I really should write the logs while my memory of the events were still clear in my mind, yet I wanted to look through the box and read the police reports of that night. In the end, I put aside writing the logs and reached for the box. Opening the lid, I slowly pulled out a picture of my parents lying dead on the street. After staring at it for a few seconds, I set it on the desk and took out the police report.
I skimmed through the article, picking up on little details here and there.
"Thomas and Martha Wayne were shot during an attempted robbery."
"The only witness was their surviving son, Bruce Wayne."
Surviving? I scoffed. I had died with them. All of the papers said that there were two victims, but they were all wrong. There had been three. My father, my mother, and myself.
The report went on to say the make of gun that was used. I read on, but my gaze froze when it latched onto a sentence. Time seemed to stop completely as I stared at it. Finally,I set the file down and exhaled slowly. I had misread the information. I was tired, and my vision was blurry and unfocused. There was no way that it could be true. After blinking a few times, I picked up the file once more and reread the paragraph. But it was still the same.
"According to the autopsy, Martha Wayne was approximately three months pregnant at the time of her murder."
My heart constricted painfully. I hadn't known that. My parents hadn't told me. Had they been planning on telling me after the movie? Or the following day? Had Alfred known? I desperately tried to dredge up old memories, wondering if either my father or mother had let a hint accidentally slide about what would have been the newest addition to the Wayne family.
I swallowed past a lump in my throat, and ran a trembling hand through my black hair. Had my parents lived, I would have had a baby brother. Or would it have been a sister? Had my parents lived, my younger sibling would have been in the early twenties right now. What would they have named him or her?
I abruptly stood, stuffing the case file back into the box and slamming the lid on it. I'd had enough of this for tonight. I needed to sleep, clear my head, before reading the rest of the file.
As I moved towards the stairs, I realized with a start that I'd been wrong. Three people had not died that night.
There had been four.
