AUTHOR'S NOTE: Picking up immediately after the previous chapter, here's 4

BATMAN BEYOND:
Reunited - a TxM Story
Part 4

The shrill beeping of an alarm clock woke Terry McGinnis, and he pounded the snooze button to silence it.

The first thing he noticed when he dragged himself out of bed was that he was naked, so he hastily pulled on some shorts and a t-shirt. As he dressed, he heard indistinct conversation from outside. He also smelled something cooking. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out.

"What smells so good?" He asked.

- "Good morning, sleepyhead." he heard the reply. "I'm making breakfast."

His mother was seated at the kitchen counter, while he saw Matt playing in the corner. Dressed and wearing his mother's apron, Melanie was in the kitchen.

He smiled.
- "Good morning, Melanie." He said. Then, turning to his mother, he said "Morning, Mom. What time'd you get in?"

- "Later than I would've liked. You were both asleep by the time I got home." She said, and there was a sly twinkle in her eye that told Terry she knew, or at least guessed, how their night had gone. "I'm actually surprised you two spent the night here - I thought you would have returned to the dorms."

- "I guess we were just tired," Terry said vaguely, "We'll have to head back after breakfast."

- "I'll need you to drop me off at my flat so I can pick up a few things." Melanie said with a nod. "Now come on, it's ready."

The four of them sat down at the table and began to eat.

- "This is really good." Terry commented as they were eating.

- "Don't talk with your mouth full." Mary admonished. "But yes, Melanie, you're quite a cook."

- "Thank you," she said gratefully. "I've been working at Deckard's Kitchen since I got back to Gotham, and I tried to pick up a few things."

- "I know that place." Mary commented. "Kind of a risky neighborhood, isn't it?"

- "A little." Melanie admitted. "But I don't mind. It's good work, and not far from where I live."

The conversation continued. Mary McGinnis seemed to like Melanie, although the latter remained vague about her own background. On the other hand, Melanie learned a great deal about the McGinnis family, and the more she did, the more comfortable she felt with them.
Maybe, one day, comfortable enough to share with them her real story.

But not yet.

While Terry got dressed, Mary McGinnis helped the young woman clean up in the kitchen, before she had to leave for work, taking Matt with her to drop him off at school.

Melanie sat on the living room couch, crossing her long legs, and sighed. Finally Terry emerged, freshly showered and dressed, and she stood and kissed him.

- "Thank you." she said.

- "For what?" Terry asked.

- "For all of this. For letting me meet your family. For the most amazing night of my life." She said. "Time to go, though."

- "Yeah," Terry answered. "Don't want to be late for class."

They took his bike and rode back to her flat, where he dropped her off.

- "I'll see you later." Melanie said, kissing Terry.

- "We'll have to do this again sometime soon." he said, grinning.

- "I certainly hope so." She answered huskily, and winked. Then she turned and headed back inside, and he turned his bike around and headed back to his dorm. He needed to pick up his books and head to class, or he'd be late - again.

Several days passed. Terry called Melanie every night, and saw her at least at lunch most days, but that evening was the first opportunity they'd had to get together since that first evening.

However, shortly before he was due to pick her up, Terry received a phone call he'd been dreading since their relationship began. From Wayne, summoning him to the cave.

"This is Terry." He said.

- "Vacation's over." Wayne said curtly, "I need you to get down here."

- "Does it have to be now?" Terry asked. Wayne did not reply. "Fine. I'll be over as soon as I can."

He hung up the call. Then he dialed another number.

- "Terry?" Melanie asked when she picked up.

- "Yeah." He said, and from his tone she guessed that something was wrong.

- "What's the matter?" She asked, sounding worried.

- "Something's come up," he said, "I'm sorry, but...I'm afraid I won't make it tonight."

- "Is it your job?" She asked, and she sounded so disappointed that it felt like a knife to the gut.

- "It is." he said. "Mr. Wayne needs my help. I promise, I'll make it up to you. I love you."

- "I love you too, Terry." She said, crestfallen, and hung up.

- "Damn it." Terry swore under his breath. 'Here we go again.' He thought.

He pocketed the phone, started his bike, and roared off.

The gates of the Wayne property opened noiselessly as he rode up, and he started down the drive towards the house. The graveled driveway was a quarter-mile long, but the powerful cycle covered the distance in seconds, coming to a halt just in front of the house.

He stowed his helmet, grabbed his empty backpack, and entered the house, closing the doors behind him.

"You're late." Wayne's deep voice echoed as he walked down the stairs into the cave. The old man was standing in front of the long workbench located behind the gigantic computer, working, Terry saw, on the suit.

- "Excuse me for having a life." Terry snapped, "I got here as fast as I could."

Wayne looked up, a questioning expression on his aged face.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap like that. It's just that Melanie and I had plans for this evening." Terry added.

- "Your girlfriend?" Wayne inquired with an odd look on his face, and Terry nodded. "That wouldn't happen to be Melanie Walker, by chance?"

- "Yes, it's Melanie Walker." Terry replied. Then, looking at the expression on the old man's face, he added. "I assume you don't approve."

- "Of your pursuing a relationship with a convicted thief? Of course not." Wayne replied.

- "That was then, not now." Terry protested. "She's done her time, she's out on parole for good behaviour, and she's straight now. She was a thief because her parents were thieves, but she's moved on, and she wouldn't go back to stealing again. I know it."

- "She did, once." Wayne countered.

- "Like I need you to remind me of that. She thought her family was in danger, and she was desperate. But you haven't heard the way she talks about them now." Terry retorted. "And remember that the last time we went up against the Royal Flush Gang, she wasn't with them. "I don't exist to them" - her words."

Wayne did not reply. Terry had a point, but that in itself was not conclusive.

"She's turned her life around." Terry stated firmly. "She would never go back to them again."

- "If you say so." Wayne said, his tone clearly indicating his skepticism. Knowing he would never be able to convince Wayne of Melanie's redemption, Terry changed the subject.

- "So, the suit's done?" he asked, and the old man nodded.

- "Basically rebuilt from the ground up, improvements across the board. I want to run a few quick diagnostic checks, and then do a test-run here before you go out."

Terry gave the suit an appraising look. Externally, it didn't seem all that different at first glance, but he noticed the fabric seemed thicker, and even the outside looked reinforced.

- "Looks heavier." He commented.

- "It is. I reinforced it and increased the insulation." Wayne confirmed. "You'll have more protection against temperature extremes, radiation, fire. Also better water-proofing, and better ballistic protection as well - not perfect, but better."

- "What about electrical or electromagnetic attacks?" Terry asked. He'd lost count of the sheer number of times he'd been electrocuted during his time as Batman. The suit's insulation had helped - what should be fatal discharges typically just hurt like hell.

The corner of Wayne's mouth twitched upwards.
- "Good, you're paying attention." He said. "The suit's been completely hardened against electromagnetic fields or discharges. I've enhanced the thrusters and updated the servos, so you'll actually be faster than before despite the added weight, and I also boosted the suit's flight systems."

- "Schway." Terry commented. "Anything else I should know about?"

Before Wayne could answer, the computer beeped, and a new alert window opened up. Terry looked up, and Bruce glanced at the screen over his shoulder.

- "Suit up" He said simply. "Time to get to work."

- "On my way." Terry replied, and within minutes he was suited up. He boarded the car, and took off with his usual high speed.

"It's Ghoul." Terry said in a low voice as he neared the scene of the attack, Gotham's largest cred bank. He'd left the car, cloaked, some distance away and made his approach on foot - sort of.

The crime was almost pedestrian, by Gotham's usual standards. However, according to the GCPD reports Bruce had intercepted and relayed to the car, police efforts had been hindered by the responding officers becoming completely incapacitated

Ghoul was strictly small-time, a two-bit crook who ran with the Jokerz. He'd been in the crew that rallied to the Joker (a.k.a. Tim Drake) when he had resurfaced previously. The Dee Dee twins and Chucko had been arrested, but Ghoul and the Splicer Woof had evaded capture.

The Joker himself destroyed, Drake had been released, with the official report explaining his presence at the scene by describing him as a hostage who had been forced to work for the Joker against his will - which was only a slight distortion of the true events. But still, Terry thought, something was up.

"Something's up. This is way too big for a small fry like Ghoul. He's got accomplices, though. Woof's with him - should've brought the mutt along...and...no slaggin' way. Terminal."

- "Who?" Wayne asked.

- "Terminal - he ran a crew of Jokerz a couple of years back." Terry explained. "I know the guy; Carter Wilson, went to Hill High. Second-best student in our class, behind Max. Kind of a jerk."

- "Zoom in closer." Wayne asked, as he noticed something. "Something seems strange."

- "They're wearing...gas masks." Terry commented, puzzled. "And it looks like they've got some kind of aerosol dispenser on them. No other weapons visible. I'm going in."

- "WAIT!" Wayne ordered. "There are GCPD officers in there, as well as bank employees. Zoom in on them, show me what they're doing."

- "They're not doing anything. Just sitting or lying there." Terry replied.

- "Just do it." Wayne ordered, and Terry complied immediately, zooming in on the nearest one, and nearly started at the twisted features, the expression on the cop's face.

Bruce saw it too, and recognized what he was seeing.

"Scarecrow..." He mumbled.

- "One of yours?" Terry asked.

- "Doctor Jonathan Crane. Used to be psychology professor at Gotham University." Bruce explained. "His specialty was abnormal psychology, especially phobias. He developed a nerve toxin he weaponized and used in criminal activities."

- "Sounds like Spellbinder." Terry commented.

- "Similar background, different methods." Bruce agreed. "Crane used a psychotropic hallucinogen that was delivered in aerosol form. It created illusions based on a person's fears, inducing a paralyzing terror in most of its victims. Your friends must have found a stockpile of it somehow."

- "Okay, note to self: Hold your breath." Terry quipped. "Or not."

Then he engaged the suit's rebreather, an integrated, closed-loop breathing apparatus built into the suit, allowing him to breathe underwater for a limited period of time.

Bruce had slightly upgraded the device, making it more compact, and it was light and flexible enough that it would work just as well to isolate Terry from the influence of the nerve toxin.

Bruce was impressed - the kid was learning. His tendency to talk reminded him of Dick or Tim, but he was learning what it meant to be Batman.

- "NOW you can go in." Bruce said.

- "Way ahead of you, boss." Terry replied. He was already on the move.

Ghoul laughed behind his gas mask. He'd been running with the Jokerz for years, and a while back had hooked up with THE Joker, when he turned up in Gotham again. But when the Clown Prince of Crime was taken down by the Bat, he and Woof went on the run, and they'd been on the run since.

Then he hooked up with Terminal, and they scored this gas stuff. It was better than the Joker's toxin, better than slappers - better than anything. With this stuff, they had a chance to really make it big - bigger even than the goddamn Joker.

Suddenly, one of the windows high above them burst, and in the cloud of broken glass that dropped, a black shadow fell.

"Terminal!" He yelled. "It's the Batman!" And even as he did, he raised the aerosol dispenser on his wrist and pulled the trigger, surrounding the Batman in a cloud of toxic gas.

"You'll have to do better than that." Batman commented as he leaped into action, a flying tackle that bowled Ghoul over. The bag Ghoul had been carrying, which was full of their haul, fell to the ground and spilled.

Ghoul stood. Somehow, the Bat had resisted the toxin, and he now saw he too was wearing some kind of gas mask. He drew a gun from where he'd tucked it into his waistband and aimed at Batman.

- "Terry!" Wayne said. "Engage the electromagnetic shields!"

Terry raised one arm and activated one of the suit's new features - an electromagnetic shield, which deployed just as Ghoul fired, blocking the first shot.

'This is so way beyond awesome' Terry thought.

Then he deactivated the shield and he was on the move again, dodging additional shots from his opponent - and doing so more easily than he would've thought possible. Compared to the old suit, he was faster, more agile, both on the ground and in the air. And he was stronger, too. Though how much stronger, he had yet to test out.

Ghoul reloaded his weapon and raised it once more. There was a flash of metal, and Ghoul screamed in pain as the point of a batarang lodged itself into the back of his hand.

He dropped the weapon, and moments later Batman fired a pair of bolas that wrapped themselves tight around his legs and torso, binding his arms and legs, and he hit the ground. As he fell, the black batarang tore itself loose, and he screamed again. Then his head slammed into something hard, and everything went black.

Terry heard a snarl, and Woof bowled him over as he tackled him, biting down on his forearm. The thickly insulated suit protected his arm, and he retaliated with a kick that sent the splicer flying until he slammed into a back wall with a yelp.

Woof stood shakily, and before he could attack again Batman countered, immobilizing him with a bola that wrapped itself around his legs, dropping him to the floor. Then the Bat lunged, and before Woof could move he had wrenched his his arms around his back and cuffed him.

"Two down." Terry muttered. Then Terminal slammed him in the back of the head with some kind of club, and he toppled forward, slightly disoriented.

He recovered near-instantly, and when Terminal struck again he caught the club, wrenched it from his hands, and countered with a lightning-fast kick to the stomach.

To his credit, Terminal was back on his feet quickly, and drew a gun. Terry fished a flash-bang pellet from the utility belt and threw it, turning away as he did so. The pellet exploded with a harsh blast and a blinding flash, and Terminal yelled in pain, his hands reflexively flying to his face to shield his eyes.

Too late. For the next five seconds, he was blind. The Bat was on him immediately, and within seconds Terminal was down again after taking a knockout punch to the solar plexus.

Terry crushed the aerosol dispenser's trigger mechanism, careful not to damage the feed line or the tank that held the toxin. That done, he handcuffed him too, and then relieved the unconscious Ghoul of his own dispenser. He disappeared just as a GCPD SWAT team, wearing gas masks and carrying heavy weapons, stormed the bank.

"All in a night's work." He commented, then slipped silently away.

"Emergency services are still busy handling the aftermath of an attempted heist at the First Central Bank of Gotham earlier this evening." The news anchor said in its usual falsely cheery voice. "Three attackers assaulted the bank using some kind of nerve gas that incapacitated bank employees as well as initial GCPD officers who responded to the alert.

The culprits are now in custody, and early reports seem to indicate that Gotham's very own Dark Knight may have been involved. We now go live to Commissioner Gordon, who is at the scene."

The TV went blank.

Melanie leaned back on her bed and sighed wistfully. She had so been looking forward to this evening, and now here she was, alone in her dingy one-bedroom flat while Terry was off doing who-knew-what working for Wayne, probably at that gigantic mansion outside of the city in which the old man lived.

She looked out her window, but all she saw were the steel-and-concrete skyscrapers of Gotham. She had been paid that day and had splurged on a new dress especially for the evening, which hung ready. For nothing, now.

She stood, and carefully hung the dress in her closet. As she did, her eye fell on a garment buried in the back of the closet. A form-fitting, one-piece bodysuit, colored entirely black on the left side, white on the right, from head to toe. A small black "10" on the right breast. A matching mask hung with it.

She didn't know why she'd kept it, why she didn't just throw it away. It wasn't a part of her life anymore, and represented a past she would rather forget. But it was also a memento of her family, and older, simpler times.

She pulled the garment out, and pulled it off the hangar, looking at it thoughtfully for a moment, before balling it up and throwing it into the corner. Then she went into the small galley kitchen and grabbed a metal bin she used to carry her laundry when she did it once a week, a book of matches, and a small, white plastic bottle. She tossed the costume and other items in the bin, and slowly carried it up to the roof.

Nobody was ever out here. It wasn't even normally supposed to be accessible, but the lock to the door was broken and still had not been repaired. She withdrew the matches and bottle from the bin, uncapped the bottle and poured the clear, strong-smelling liquid into the bin, where it soaked into the fabric.

Then she lit a match.

She hesitated for a moment.

"Good-bye, Ten." she whispered, "and good riddance."

She dropped the match into the bin. The soaked garment caught fire immediately, and she stood in silence, watching it burn.

"My lab techs are saying it's a slightly different chemical composition from the sample we still have, but they're confirming it's a psychotropic hallucinogen nearly identical to the one the Scarecrow used to use." Barbara Gordon said.

- "I suspected as much." Bruce replied. As he spoke, the hangar opened, and the Batmobile slid into the hangar, nearly silent despite the speed at which it moved. It stopped, and the hangar closed.

"So it's not that they found a batch of Scarecrow's old toxin - they've made it themselves somehow."

- "Looks that way." She confirmed. "We're going to interrogate them pretty seriously to figure out how."

- "Far be it from me to tell you how to do your job," Bruce started, "but I would focus on Wilson."

- "He seems to be the brains of the outfit," Barbara concurred. "Not that that's saying much. I've put the affected officers on paid medical leave until we can develop an anti-toxin and get them treated. They're all being held in observation at Gotham General's psych ward until then, and I've notified the families."

There was a silence that stretched several seconds, before she spoke again. "Bruce, do me a favor, will you?"

- "What is it?" Bruce asked.

- "Thank the kid for me when you get the chance." And she hung up.

And Bruce Wayne, holding the dead phone, found himself thinking of how much like her father she was. He and Jim Gordon had become good friends, in both of his lives.

He had never told Jim about the duality of his existence, but he knew how good a cop Gordon was, and was certain that he had known.

- "Your father would be proud, Barbara." He said quietly as he put down the phone. He heard footsteps behind him as Terry approached.

- "The Commissioner?" Terry asked, and Bruce nodded. "Got somethin' you might find interesting."

- "You grabbed one of the dispensers." Bruce stated.

- "Wow, it's like you're some kind of detective or something." Terry joked, and set the device down on the console. "You should be able to put together an antidote, right?" Bruce nodded.

- "So how's the suit handling?" He asked.

- "It's freakin' awesome." Terry replied. "Everything about it - the improved optics, the mobility, the boosted flight. It's amazing."

Bruce let out a deep breath. He'd worked hard on it, and was, to be honest, a little jealous of Terry's ability to operate it, though he knew it was beyond his limits.

"Batman has no limits", he'd once said many, many years ago. But Bruce Wayne did, and he knew what those limits were. The suit was Terry's now - his job was to help him, in any way he could.

- "The shields are especially schway," Terry commented, "but didn't Armory use something similar?"

Bruce nodded. "He developed it while working in Wayne-Powers' small-arms development bureau. WayneTech owns the technology now, and I made a few refinements of my own."

- "Ultra-schway." Terry commented, and Bruce rolled his eyes, irritated at the slang, which he remained uncomfortable with.

"Okay if I take tomorrow night off?" Terry asked.

- "Keep your phone close by." Bruce replied. Then he got to work, and for a while, Terry watched, still suited up. It was a little disconcerting to be standing there with Batman looking over his shoulder. He prepared a program to analyze the compound and prepare to synthesize an antidote, and launched the program.

- "Mr. Wayne?" Terry started to say as he removed the suit's cowl. "Can I ask you a question?"

- "About what?" Wayne replied.

- "About Selina Kyle." Terry said.

- "This isn't about Selina, it's about the Walker girl." Wayne replied testily.

- "Melanie." Terry corrected. "And yes, it is. Why is it so hard for you to believe that she's changed? Is it because Selina Kyle never did?"

Bruce did not immediately answer Terry's question.

The truth was, there had been a time when she would have stopped - when Selina would have retired from being a thief, for him. But differences of opinion and Bruce's own unwavering dedication to his self-imposed mission - to the exclusion of almost all else - had driven a wedge between them. Their relationship had ended, and by the time Selina did finally stop, years later, it was too late.

- "No, it's not." Bruce said slowly. And in the old man's normally even voice, Terry heard his regret.

- "Then why? Melanie has stopped - she's done with that life now, I told you before."

- "She lied to you before," Bruce objected, "what makes you think she wouldn't do it again? Or that she isn't lying to you now?"

- "Melanie never lied to me." Terry replied. "She lied to Batman. You and I both know that's the same thing, but she doesn't. I haven't told her about all of this, I haven't even told Mom. But I'm considering it. She deserves to know the truth."

- "Absolutely not." Bruce replied firmly. "I can't allow you to jeopardize yourself, me, and everything we've accomplished so far by exposing your identity to a criminal."

- "Former criminal. However much you might not want to believe it." Terry insisted.

- "As far as you know." Bruce countered.

For several moments, neither one of them spoke. Then Terry left to change back into his street clothes, and when he returned, he was packing the suit into his backpack.

- "If you don't want me to tell Melanie about you, I get it." Terry said. "You haven't met her. But let me ask you one last question. Did you ever tell Selina Kyle about it - that you were Batman?" He turned away without waiting for a response.

The truth was, he never had, though Selina had guessed on her own. But if she hadn't, would he have told her? He wasn't sure. So he said nothing.

"Good night, Mr. Wayne." Terry said, as he climbed up the stairs without a backward glance.

- "Good night, Terry." Bruce replied, lost in thought.