A/N: Thanks to Lady Isis for being willing to act as beta and the improvements she gave.
The vigil had lasted nearly two days. Worries about how the war progressed without himself in the heart of things arose and were efficiently turned into instructions and contingency plans passed on to his lieutenants. Throughout, his attention remained on the portal that could mean salvation and peace. He stirred, reached for the thermos, drank. Everyone left was going through a lot of coffee, worn threadbare holding back the damned jackboots. The radio chirruped.
"Captain, the company advancing on West 34th has stormed the building Grimm's team alamo'd in. I just lost contact with them." Delta sounded calm as ever.
"At this point West 34 is expendable. Ensure all the alleys and intersections leading north are impassable and withdraw as planned." The writhing inside at the loss of Grimm and his men lasted less that a second.
"Already blocked."
"Then you know the rest. Out." He replaced the hand-mike and stood. A slow pace stretched the complaining muscles. At the same time, his mind reviewed the building, the resistance defenders and their placement, which weak points his lieutenants must channel the occupiers away from. If they retook this room, the masterstroke that fate had dropped in his path was lost. Along with everything else. He returned to his seat at the control panel. Scrutiny announced that all the indicators were within what he had deduced were acceptable limits. A mental wince accompanied the reminder of how much luck had been his with that control board. I may finally have learned to use luck, but I'll never trust it. How could one be truly self-reliant that way?
"Sergio. Watch the board. Get me if this or this change." He indicated two of the many dials. "I'll be on the roof watching the jackboots move."
"You got it." Sergio shifted the cigar - which he was convinced made him look more mature than a dubious seventeen - and moved to the older man's chair. His captain stood fluidly and strode out.
"How the time goes by," he mused, thinking of when he found Sergio and his friends: youngsters with an aggressive toughness born of fear and loss. The latter was a constant here. A corner of his mouth curled up. The punks who had insisted 'we don't need anyone to hate the world with' had grasped that what they did need was a way to dethrone the real object of hate. Perhaps this mission would do it. And then maybe they all could retrieve the peace stolen from them. Twenty five years of war and training for it. Twenty five years fighting the nightmare and for the first time since he began building his weapons, he had no resources to fall back on.
His reverie lifted as he reached the top of the stairs. The trapdoor lifted easily and he stepped into the night. Here on the roof the noises of battle, muted inside the fortified research complex, rang clearly. Little was in clear sight, but the flashes and staccato showed that the enemy had advanced everywhere. As was expected; even with the heavy support from a city populace which was starting to shows shimmers of hope, his fighters were far too few and ill-equipped to hold what they had of the city. Nor did they have to much longer. Another chirrup.
"Boss-man, it's Dogie. Bastards are about to cut us off in the shopping district. I just ordered the special package delivered where it'll do 'em a world 'a good. That'll give my uglies time to get the hell out of Dodge." His gaze shifted north-east towards the malls. Smoke was rising from the area, and there was about to be a lot more of it.
"Sounds good. Once you're clear, shift everyone into a screen line and keep the enemy from consolidating on Park Circle while our captured guns move into - " he broke connection with a grimace. "We already covered all this, didn't we." A hoarse bark came across the 'net.
"And here I thought you just liked the sound of that grim, heroic voice. Don't fret, boss-man. I'll keep you posted. Dogie out."
A grimace crossed his face. Was he really so lost as to start repeating long-set plans? "Why didn't I join the strike force myself? The bizarre strangers had power. Yet is it enough? If my absence keeps them from overthrowing the monster ... I don't even know for sure that my half-blind meddling has anything to do with the portal remaining open. This battle is a simple delaying action. Delta, Holger, Dogie, I have masters of their craft. They could have fought this without me. This isn't the fight I wanted either. By morning there won't be pieces for me to pick up. That was the reason I gave for staying in the management role I've filled for so long. Reason, or excuse?" A gauntleted fist pounded the rooftop. "Whatever it was, I left myself useless in the only battle of the long war that means a damned thing!"
Unused to such a torrent of doubt, his mind fled down old channels. To a family dinner, lights and laughter that held the shadowed world at bay. Then the crash of tearing wood on the doors and the nightmare began again. A memory fresh after twenty five years of nightly renewal.
"Your whole life as you know it will be erased." No, nothing could make him happier. And he had handed it all to six garish strangers, leaving himself as useful as a wet cigarette.
"Chief!" It was one of Sergio's crew, his head poked through the trap. Seeing the familiar armored figure, he said quickly, "Sergio sent me to tell you the dials are spinning!" Before the sentence was finished his captain was past and leaping down the stairs. A few moments and he was in the portal room, where an agitated Sergio awaited.
"Not one of the two, a different one, about ninety seconds ago it started going crazy!" He was already next to Sergio, peering intensely. A crushing blow. It was one of the few dials he had been able to divine nothing of. The yellow needle flicked back and forth, mocking his incapacity. The visored eyes scanned the controls, searching for a correlation with the timing of the needle, a change in some gauge's level that agreed with this behavior, a match that might give meaning to the unknown symbols. Did this mean the portal's collapse? No way to know, but he must. If he didn't, the nightmare would win. He sensed the young men behind and beside him, aware of their apprehension overcome by trust for he who had given them purpose.
Yes, you trust me. And I, I know nothing, withheld from my chance to win this and now I whom you trust cannot even understand the obstacle! Normally composed features contorted in rage.
And then opened in shock. The dial he was focused on had gone transparent. Several had. The whole control bank was ghostly! He raised his gaze. Entire pieces of the room were fading and vanishing. He turned and gripped Sergio's shoulder. Hard reality - than it softened as his followers began to fade away.
Could it be? They had done it. The relentless warrior had held back from the crucial battle and those allies unlooked-for had won it while he headed a bloody gambit - a gambit that had not, would never happen. He waited for frustration to overwhelm and turn to rage. For had he not failed to win his war?
The last walls dimmed and were gone. The whole building was too. The ravaged city seemed to be rolling up as a scroll.
"So this than, is what it is to be saved by the triumph of others." The harsh, commanding mouth softened. "It is not as empty as I believed." The war was over. He could awake and be at peace.
Bruce Wayne twisted clasps and doffed the helm of the Resistance leader forever. As Bruce faded from a world that never was, a few words lingered. "Mom...Dad? ...I'm coming."
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.