CHAPTER 4

Endings and Beginnings

Batman sat in the cave, his face in his hands. His networks were down, the cameras were off, the computer completely useless. He still had all the data he had accumulated over the years, but what good was it when he couldn't cross check or correlate it to anything.

Worse was the dawning realization of what he had done the past three years. Three years he had consolidated his control over Gotham. Nothing happened in the city without him knowing about it. Not just crime, but everything was under his watch. Everyone was suspect. He had turned Gotham into a prison, and he was the warden. He had created a city full of inmates, and he watched over all of them. He had taken away everyone's freedoms, and enforced his rule with brutal efficiency. What had become of the city? What had become of the people? What had become of his company? What had become of him?

He had taken a life tonight. He had lost his touch with his vow. He never used a gun, but he had lost control. What had made him go over the edge? What was it that made him turn? How close was he to becoming that which he feared, one of the criminals he hunted?

A sound made his head turn, and he saw his son, Damien, standing at the top of the stairs to the cave. A son he had never known he had, a son he thought dead, a son who hated him and what he had done to this city. They stared at each other. It was only a few feet, but it might as well have been miles. Batman knew nothing about him, but Damien knew everything about Batman, all the things he hated. Damien jumped from the top of the stairs and landed expertly in the middle of the cave. He had skill, Batman had to admit. He more than held his own against Batman. And he had been able to keep himself hidden from him. He would have made a great ally.

Damien broke the silence. "It's time to end this. You've gone too far. It has to end, all of it, tonight."

Rage and fury suddenly rose inside Batman. While he had just started to realize what he had done, who was Damien, who had no connection to this city, to blame him? How could he accuse and know what is right or wrong? Batman slowly stood.

"You think you know what's best for this city? You think you know what's best for me? This city would crumble without me."

"Have you looked outside recently? The city is already crumbling. It's all falling down around you, and you have no idea. You are lost in your one-man war on crime, you've lost sight of what you are doing to this city. Have you looked at the jails recently? They are practically empty, because everyone you arrest is rotting in a hospital bed. You might not kill anyone, but you have taken their livelihoods, their ability to take care of themselves. The people are leaving. Pretty soon, you won't have anyone to protect. And it's all because of you." Damien tensed, waiting for the attack he knew would come.

The words cut deep into Batman. The rage and fury conflicted with guilt and the realization of what he had done. It was too much, he couldn't think, he couldn't sort it all out. He needed to lash out, to do something. He charged at Damien, at his accuser, to show him what his power could do.

Damien parried his blows. Batman was practically flailing, the control he had worked all of his life for practically gone as he desperately tried to cling onto anything that would show he had done right these past years, something that he could use to justify himself and forgive himself. The rage made him sloppy and Damien was able to avoid his blows. Batman lashed out and Damien quickly parried the punch and landed a kick squarely on his broken ribs. The breath left his lungs and Batman collapsed on the ground, the pain sharp in his side and chest. He had to push it away, to ignore it. He'd had worse. He rose and Damien moved inside his reach and landed dozens of quick punched to his ribs, keeping up the pain, increasing the pressure. Batman's mouth opened in pain but no sound emerged. He had no air to make any noise.

Damien swept Batman's legs from under him and he fell hard. In half of a second, Damien was on top of him, landing blows to his face and head. Batman could only block one side, the other arm still broken and couldn't take anymore. With each blow that landed, memories flashed in Batman's mind. He saw the past five years since the Joker died. He was what he became, he saw what he had done, he saw how he failed his parents. He stopped fighting. He lay there and took Damien's punches. There was no reason to fight now. He had lost. He had failed. It was time to end it.

Damien threw one final punch and stood, realizing Batman stopped resisting. He lay there on the cave floor, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Damien could barely see his chest raise and fall as he labored to breathe. Damien walked over to the bank of computers, entered a command, and began erasing data, severing connections, cancelling searches, and ending the reign of terror of the Batman.

The police slowly began to restore order. It took time. They were used to following Batman, and had to learn to listen to the commissioner. Jonathan Cole slowly took back his department. He had been out of it for a while. It took over a week just to get him back into the office. But from there, he fell right back into his job, directing his precincts, ordering his officers, protecting his city.

Within a month, the department was almost back to normal, the cops on the streets, protecting and helping people. No one was suspect. No more drones flew over the city. Businesses started opening again. Families moved back in. So did crime, but it wasn't anything more than the police could handle. It was like before the Batman.

Jon Cole stood on the roof of Gotham City Police headquarters, smoking a cigarette. He stared out over his city, listening to the sounds. He was still considered the "new" commissioner, but Gotham was his home. He had to protect her. He walked over to the giant spotlight on the roof. It hadn't been used in years. Batman didn't seem to need it much anymore. Really, the city had no need for Batman, either. Jon picked up the ax that he had carried up with him and shattered the light. The city no longer needed to put its trust in a vigilante. They had seen how far that could go. Gotham City belonged to its citizens. And their protectors: the police. It was time for families to be able to walk the streets at night again. No city could ever be free of crime, but there were better ways to manage it than the brutal actions of one driven man.

Jon finished his cigarette and lit another. He could see why Batman liked the rooftops so much. Looking out over the city from up here, it was beautiful and peaceful. Jon sighed and snubbed out his cigarette to walk inside. He knew he was going to have his hands full. He still had to put the department back together, there were criminals in hospitals that needed guards, and a backlog of paperwork to clean up. It was going to be late nights for a while, but he was glad it was his police force again, not Batman's.

Damien and Bruce sat in the cave, looking around at what remained of the Batman and his exploits. Over the past month, Bruce had rested and healed. His ribs felt normal enough, his arm was still in a sling but he could move it, and his limp was gone. Thankfully his body healed quickly.

In that month, he and Damien had gotten to know each other. Damien was by his side, helping him heal. He had, after all, done most of the damage. Bruce found out how Damien had escaped the manor, after being shot by the Joker.

"After you guys ran down to the cave, I rolled and fell out a window. I had every intention of coming back and confronting you again, but as I watched the news, I knew I had to do something. I saw how dark you were getting, how you were choking the city. I couldn't let you do that."

Bruce knew there were going to be issues. Damien had first tried to use the Joker to get to him, then had begun riots in Gotham to get his way. There was work to do. Damien was young, undisciplined, and needed guidance. Bruce could provide that. He could teach him. All he knew was crime fighting, and it would have to do.

Bruce healed, and he taught Damien the tools of his trade. Not just what he did, but why, and how. He showed him the reason, taught him how to think, how to use his mind to work through a problem, any problem, before acting irrationally. There was more to being Batman than just fighting and gadgets. It was solving the impossible, being a detective, figuring it out.

Bruce tried to teach Damien about his rigid code, no guns, no killing. They were instruments of Justice, not killers, and not thugs. He explained why he fought crime, how his life had changed, and what had pushed him over the edge. Bruce didn't know if it all was understood by Damien, but he tried. Soon, it would be time to test it.

The suit hadn't been worn in years, and it didn't fit Damien quite right. They would have to fix that. Eventually, Damien would get his own suit, his own gadgets that he specialized in, but for now, it was enough for him to go out with Batman, as Robin.

It had been months since Batman had been injured and in that time, he had not left the cave, had not patrolled his city, had not intruded upon the lives of Gotham's citizens. He had left them alone to live their lives, to carry on and rebuild after he had nearly destroyed them. And Gotham had done well. Standing over the city, he could hear the buzz of it, feel the life emanating from the streets below. It was his city. He had to protect it. He couldn't let what happened to him happen to someone else.

"So what do we do now?" Damien was anxious, wanted to put his training to the test. Batman could understand his eagerness and he smiled inwardly at it. Damien would have to learn patience, and there was no better teacher than experience. He'd make him wait a bit more.

It felt good to be back in the city, back to patrolling. He had seen the signal was gone from police headquarters, knew he had to stay away from there. It would have to be different this time. Batman had gotten too big, too known, too much of a focus from the public. He had become a threat. He would have to keep it low key this time. Stay hidden, stay in the shadows, keep them guessing, never reveal themselves. Maybe, in a few years, Gotham would be ready for the Batman again, but right now, the city needed to find its way without Batman.

Damien fidgeted, anxious to move. He had made him wait long enough. Batman silently shot a grappling hook to another roof and swung down from his perch. Robin was close on his heels and together, they patrolled their city to keep it safe.

Bruce and Damien got close as they patrolled, began to develop their father and son bond. It was difficult. Damien was already a grown man, and Bruce was too old to have to raise a child, but they lived together in the Manor. Damien learned the history of his family and learned about Wayne Enterprises. Bruce was no longer head of the company, the board of trustees took care of that. There was nothing to be able to hand over to Damien except the name at this point. Bruce still got a healthy stipend from his stock shares, but his role in the company had ended nearly five years ago.

The doorbell rang on a clear afternoon. Bruce opened the door and was met by a man in a well-tailored suit who stood there, quietly, waiting. Bruce's senses couldn't be turned off and he immediately sized him up. The suit concealed a well-built frame. He seemed to be in his late 30's or early 40's. He stood casually, relaxed, hands folded in front of him, but Bruce could tell he was a man who had seen action and could handle himself. Bruce looked him in the eye and asked "Can I help you?"

"Good afternoon, sir. I am Henry Pennyworth, 8th Troop, B-Squadron, 22nd SAS Regiment. I was sent by my uncle, Alfred Pennyworth. May I come in?"

Bruce smiled. "Of course, come in." Bruce led him to a study, trying to avoid the parts of the house still covered in sheets. Even though Bruce and Damien had been living in the Manor together for several months, there were still only a few rooms that were actually used. Bruce sat behind the large desk in the room and indicated a chair for Henry to sit. "So, what can I do for you, Mr. Pennyworth?" Bruce began.

"It's the other way around, actually, Mister Wayne. It is what I can do for you. I was sent here to take my uncle's place as butler and caretaker for the Wayne estate and family. I have recently finished my tour with the SAS, and when my uncle returned to England, he made arrangements for me to come here and fulfill my family's charge."

"So did Alfred explain what your duties would be?" Bruce would entertain him, but he had no intention of having another butler. Damien and himself didn't make that much of a mess.

"Yes. House cleaning, cooking, administrative, in charge of the household staff…"

"Well, as of right now, there is no staff and I don't really see a need for one, and we've been able to take care of ourselves for a while now, so.." Bruce was starting to get annoyed at this man who thought he could come in here and tell him what to do.

"That wasn't the end of the list. My uncle also told me about your nocturnal activities, your one-man war on crime. See, in addition to everything else, I am also your voice of reason. I am the one to pull you back from the edge. I am to keep you on the path that you have chosen for yourself. That is why my uncle left, Mr. Wayne. He failed to be your friend and keep you from becoming that which you hunt at night. While you might have fallen 100 feet from grace, each step was only a two-foot drop. I am to put you back on that path and keep you there. I am to succeed where my uncle failed. He left because he could not face you in the light of his failure. While you might have thought this war was your own, you were never alone, Mr. Wayne. That is my charge."

Bruce Wayne sat there, jaw open, shocked into silence by this man. His words cut deep and left Bruce emotionally scarred. Everything he said had been true. It had always been Alfred that kept Bruce from going too far. It had been Alfred that had helped him, guided him, and more importantly, been his friend. He was the one man Bruce could rely on and count on, and he had pushed him out of his life.

"Now," Henry continued and stood up, "here are my credentials for you to verify." He left an envelope on the desk. "Breakfast will be at 0700, sharp. My first priority will be to get a staff hired. Until then, you'll have to deal with my cooking. I already know my way around. Uncle Alfred was thorough in his explanations. I expect the next few days will be spent cleaning, both the manor and the cave. Then we will have to get you back at the head of your company, Mr. Wayne, which it still is. I'll bring my bags in and find my room. I'll see you in the morning, Mr. Wayne." Henry Pennyworth turned and left the room, with a military air in his step.

Bruce Wayne continued to sit, staring after this man, this Godsend, who had come to save him, forgive him and be his friend, something lacking in Bruce's life for a while. He picked up the envelope and opened it, reading over Henry's military career, training and a personal letter from Alfred. Bruce smiled. Henry would work out just fine.

The patient slowly opened his eyes and looked around. He didn't know where he was. All he could see were wires and tubes hooked to medical equipment with "WayneTech" emblazoned on them. They all seemed to be running to him. He looked down and sure enough, everything ran under the sheet covering him. He tried to move, but his muscles didn't want to cooperate. A man in a mask appeared and leaned over the bed.

"Good, you're awake." The man, doctor, the patient assumed, began checking all the machines, looking at charts and writing things down. The patient opened his mouth to speak but his mouth was too dry. "Here, let me help you." The doctor grabbed a squeeze bottle of water and let a few drops dribble into the patient's mouth.

"Where am I?" he asked, once his mouth was moist enough. "What happened?"

"You were in a terrible accident. You've been in a coma for five years. We weren't sure if you were ever going to wake up. But your body is healing, and with you awake, you can start moving around and get your muscles working again. But first, I'll get some food delivered. You'll need energy."

Food did sound wonderful. Five years? A five year coma? Who knew? "What kind of accident?"

"From what we can tell, it was an explosion of some sort. I'll go get the nurse to bring you some food. Try moving your arms, but not too much and don't get out of bed yet. Just work on trying to get your muscles working." The doctor turned and left the room.

The patient looked around, a grin on his face. An explosion? A five year coma? He started giggling to himself. He couldn't believe it. It would take a month or two, but once he could walk, it would be time. He started laughing out loud. Time to let Gotham know The Joker is back.