Notes: Ok guys. Here it is; the next part of TBGE. It is not how I originally wrote it. Not for the first time, this story has fallen victim to a melted hard drive. In this instance, one that decided to take out ten pages of un-posted story without even having the courtesy of doing it with any sort of panache that might have provided at least a little entertainment in the process. That this next portion has been painstakingly (and inaccurately) recreated from what was lost is due to the encouragement of a number of people, especially Lady Moon, without whose cheerful sympathy, occasional commiseration, and impeccably timed feedback on the earlier parts of this fanfic, chances are I would have decided that this time round, I'd not bother to resurrect the story.
This rehash marks a change in how the fic will be written, however. Now, rather than waiting for an opportune story break (read: cliff-hanger) before posting a section, I will post any given portion as soon as it's written. This may make for complicated or unsatisfying reading, for which I give my apologies in advance.
Van had not expected sleep to come easily for what little remained of the night. Instead, he had anticipated lying awake for many hours - despite the toll of the evening's physical activities - to contemplate the impact of its revelations. Thus it was with some surprise that Van found himself awakening bleary-eyed to the perpetual twilight of the Batcave. Looking at the complicated timepiece ('clock' was too simple a term for the device) mounted on a convenient stalactite, he realized it was shortly before dawn. He'd managed a good two and half hours sleep. //All the better to prepare me for what's to come,// he thought, lips tightening into a determined line.//I've a lot of questions to ask. And a lot of thinking before I even know what all of those questions will be.//
With a silent grace more reminiscent of a predatory cat than the sweet-voiced bird his alter-ego was named for, Van stealthily dressed, preparatory to leaving the cave. Finding the tracer Dick had thoughtfully stuck to the inner tongue of one of his shoes, he removed it with a practiced flick of the wrist. //Sometimes, Big Brother,// he contemplated, //a person just needs a little privacy. A little time and space in which to think.// With an unconscious shrug, he turned thought to deed, slipping past the cave's defenses with the absent-minded ease of gross familiarity.
The early morning light of sunrise in Gotham saw Van wending his way through the skyscrapers downtown. Freshly rebuilt after the ravages of pestilence and earthquake, the buildings were humbler, lower to the ground than their predecessors, and they retained a sharp-edged newness that had yet to mellow into to comfortable power of age that the older architecture had possessed. A burst of nostalgia for the toppled gargoyles that had been responsible for so much of the city's previous atmosphere was interrupted by the sight of a sign being raised on one of the new buildings. //Drake Industries is returning to Gotham?! Does this mean Jack Drake will be here as well?// Van frowned. That was unexpected. His last intelligence had placed the man and his new family firmly in Metropolis, in the process of consolidating his holdings there. Unexpected, but possibly, he contemplated moodily, to his advantage. //Batman told me to reunite with my family, but how? After the deception I crafted so carefully fooled even Batman for months, how do I then turn that into a mistake, an error of reporting? The fact that Batman only found out after a private investigator ran a search on me implies that someone was at least suspicious about the scenario well before then. Barbara told me Jack Drake hired Bard, so perhaps the real question is not how to tell him I'm still alive, but how to dovetail a new fiction in with what he already knows – or thinks he knows.// He sighed. It was another thing to contemplate, to factor in to his plans.
In truth – and here Van saw the wisdom of ruthless self-examination – Van cared less about his birth father than his mentors. That Kaguya and the Shishou had failed to return from their sojourns in their respective home worlds deeply troubled the youth. //They would not abandon me,// he knew with unshakable faith. //They would never, ever just pack up and leave.// But he also knew that they'd not returned to the human plane. Something inside him, an intuition as much as a logical thought, told him he'd know if they had. //Maybe it's because I carried the Hagoromo. Maybe it's something else. I just know that I'd know if they were back and they're not.// Pausing outside the Mireba building to collect his thoughts, Van decided to enter the official way. While sneaking in had its advantages – not the least of which was the practice value – at this moment, time and thought seemed of the essence. //And with Kaguya and the Shishou not in the building, I don't particularly want to give anyone else inside that I happen to meet and need to talk to a heads-up about some of my other training.//
//No, Shishou would not abandon me, but I still have so many questions to ask.// The elevator ride seemed to take forever, despite the whisper-quiet rapidity that he knew in reality was whisking him up to the dojo complex. //Questions about what happens now, about whether they even know yet that Yuki is dead, about my studies. . . questions about The Crimson. So very many questions about The Crimson.// He did not for one instant doubt his master, or his master's nobility. He'd grown too close to his not-quite-human mentor for that, however his mind nonetheless churned out scenarios and possibilities at high speed. But his self examination, though ruthless and substantially more thorough than most people would have managed, still belittled one small fact: He wanted to see his master and the lady again. His makeshift family had become very important, and he missed them terribly. Missed the chance to mourn with those who understood just how special Yuki had been. The wound still gaped, and while Dick's words had provided a soft balm, he had only to remember Yuki's sunny grin to rip the scab off the top of his grief. //So many questions, so many things to tell you. . .//
Stepping out of the elevator, the dojo seemed heartbreakingly, echoingly empty. Around him, memories of the pleasant, homey moments he'd grown to treasure in the simple rooms mocked him. Alone. So very alone. //Shishou, where are you?//
It was with some surprise that his keen eyes detected movement in the smaller, second room of the Dojo. Familiar with Kaguya's grace and the Shishou's powerful fluidity, Van knew immediately that the fluttering of a sleeve he'd spied, though elegant, could belong to neither of these. In a relaxed state of battle readiness, he ghosted towards the room, feet skimming the nightingale floor between the two sections of the complex with surety and –more importantly - silence. //An intruder? Here?// Thoughts of the future, his questions, the past all dissipated, leaving only the pointed alertness of the Now. //Unlikely, unless . . .//
His surmise was correct. Seated in the smaller of the rooms in front of a low burner on which rested an elegant tetsubin was a woman. As she turned to face him, Van felt a frisson of shock. Yuki's face stared up at him from beneath a curtain of inky black hair.