"I've got a wound that doesn't heal burning out again, burning out again. Not sure which of me is real, I'm alone again, burning out again. My hope runs underneath it all the day that I'll be home. It won't be long, I belong somewhere past this setting sun. Finally free, finally strong, somewhere back where I belong."
-Switchfoot 'The Setting Sun'-
Ghosts in the Closets:
By: The BatThing
Thanks To: Ari, my awesome editor for this whole year. She's too cool for words. She didn't edit this chapter, but she's awesome as can be. Thanks for everything!
Chapter Seven:
Awkward silence, awkward - cold silence was all that Batman and Robin had as they stood, facing each other. Neither was willing to speak, one was much to shocked, and the other, much to scared.
It took a few moments, probably just a few seconds, before Batman was able to think straight. He lifted his head and looked into the sky, carefully closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. It helped, not that much, but enough. The man looked back to the boy and then nodded. "Alright."
Robin made an unintelligent noise and let his jaw drop. "Alright? What do you mean alright?"
"I mean we should go home, I told you I wouldn't get upset, and I intend to keep my promise." Batman dug out his grappling hook.
"You can't not be upset, it's impossible."
"Then why did you ask me to do the impossible?"
Robin was silent, searching the city for a moment and then looking carefully at the dark figure. "You're Batman, that's why."
It was hard not to feel a smile want to start, but the masked figure pushed it aside. He quickly snapped in reply, not planning on letting the 15-year-old sense the unwanted smile. "Don't be absurd."
That Night:
"Your parents?"
"Yes Alfred, he said my parents were doing this to him." Bruce turned in the chair and shrugged. "And what am I supposed to say to that?"
Alfred frowned as he thought through the matter. "Your parent's aren't doing this. It's not possible."
The man nodded. "I know, they wouldn't be capable of so much hate, but there isn't any way I could tell Tim I didn't believe him. Not after what I did before."
"It isn't 'doubting' to explain that your parents aren't capable of such – cruel hearts. Apparently someone is behind this, taking the shape of your parents perhaps." The butler glanced towards the darkness of the Batcave.
"Someone, but the question is who? I don't think there are many people out there who hate my parents enough to do this."
"I hope your feelings aren't terribly wounded, sir, but I believe there are more then enough people who have ill feelings towards you."
Bruce nodded. "I know. What better way to hurt me then this, then with Tim, Dick, and my parents? They're after me, but why. Who would be after me?"
"I have faith that you'll figure it out in due time."
"I will. And when I do, someone will regret what they've done to us."
Alfred nodded, offering a supporting nod.
The man glanced up at him, and then shook his head. "Thank you, Alfred."
"Sir?"
"I-I was afraid that I'd be forced to think it was my parents. Thanks for being such a loyal friend to them."
"It's been my pleasure, sir."
Bruce would have smiled.
Alfred paced towards the door as the familiar tune of the doorbell rang throughout the house. The butler carefully opened the door, peering into the darkness. "Hello?"
"Mr. Pennyworth?" A man stepped forward, carefully tipping his hat. "I understand it's late, but the man I work for insisted I come as quickly as possible. I wish a word with your employer, if possible."
"It's late. Perhaps tomorrow, Mr. - ."
The man shut his eyes momentarily, and then shook his head. "It's an important matter, concerning the happenings going on in this house."
Alfred kept his mouth shut and his face blank.
"Now, I must insist that I speak to Mr. Wayne before the night is over."
The butler stepped aside, allowing the man to enter the house. "I'll see if he's awake, please – wait here."
"Of course."
"Master Bruce?"
Bruce looked up from his desk, away from the paper before him. "Hmm?"
"We have a visitor who insists he speaks with you. He gives the impression that he knows about our troubles." Alfred frowned as Bruce quickly got to his feet. "I'm not sure what to make of him."
Bruce glanced at the man and then hurried out of the room, coming to where the stranger sat. "Hello, I'm Bruce Wayne."
"Karl Ridger." The two shook hands and Bruce indicated towards the seat.
"How can I help you, Mr. Ridger?"
"My employer insisted that I speak to you. He is aware of what is going on with your two wards, and your parents."
"Excuse me?"
The man smiled. "If I may see your two boys, I'll be happy to explain more."
Bruce looked the man over and then carefully shook his head. "I'm afraid they're asleep at the moment. I'm more than happy to listen to what you have to say."
"Oh, I don't doubt that, but I cannot carry on until the boys are present."
"I see. Alfred, could you wake Tim and Dick?"
"Master Richard is currently with Miss. Gordon."
Bruce sighed. "Then could you get Tim?"
"Of course sir."
The two men sat in silence until they were joined by a confused looking Tim. Bruce indicated that the boy should sit down, and he did so without a word or protest. "This man, Mr. Karl Ridger, says he'd like to talk with us about what's been happening around here."
The doorbell rang again and Karl got to his feet as Alfred made his way towards the door. "I'd like to apologize in advance for this rude, well, meeting, but it couldn't be helped."
The butler opened the door and quickly stepped backwards as men forced their way in, guns in hand. Karl carefully pulled out his own hand gun and shook his head, looking truly sorry. Bruce got to his feet, glaring, but not saying a word.
"The man I work for is at fault for the happenings going on here. He'd like to talk with you Mr. Wayne."
"How dare you." Bruce hissed.
Karl nodded, as if he understood then pulled the trigger, allowing a bullet to cleanly slice through Bruce's left calf, causing the man collapsed to the ground.
"Master Bruce!"
"Bastard!" Tim screamed as he lunged for Karl, and a bullet shot off, whizzing past his head and causing the boy to duck to the ground.
"Stop it! Stop shooting!" Bruce growled to the men. "This isn't about him; it's about me, right? What do you want?"
Karl looked down at the boy and sneered. "Tie up the butler and boy, make it fast."
The men had no trouble tying up Alfred, but when they came towards Tim, he refused to be taken so easily. When they got in range, he kicked like mad.
"Mr. Wayne, I'm loosing patience. Either you make him stop or we will."
"Timothy - do as they say."
"Like hell I will. These guys are the people who are doing this to us! They did this to me." The boy jerked around, facing Karl. "Like hell I'll back just down and let you tie me up."
A man lowered his weapon and looked at Karl, quirking an eyebrow. "Sir?"
"Very well, Mr. Drake, you can grace us with your presence. Take him with us, boys." And with that Karl turned and strolled towards the doors of Wayne Manor, ignoring Bruce, who was now shouting. He shouted over his shoulder. "Just shot him, tie him up, and get him in the car, now."
"He'll do as you say, this isn't about him, and it's about me! Tim let them tie you up, you idiot!" But no one really heard the man.
Tim opened his eyes with a groan. 'Where the hell am I?' He could feel his face resting on something cold, and even a little damp. The boy groaned once more, feeling it necessary. He pushed up, coming to the sitting position as his eyes adjusted. That's when he remembered. "BRUCE!"
He was in a cell, a small cell with only his jeans on. His shirt, shoes, socks – everything had been stripped. The boy shivered, feeling the cold. At least when he had been asleep the cold hadn't bothered him so much. But that didn't matter, at least not now. He needed to find out where Bruce was. The boy meandered over to the bars and looked around as best as he could.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
The boy couldn't help but feel frightened. He gripped the bars tightly, trying his best to breath. Bruce would be all right, and then, Bruce would find a way to get them both out and unharmed.
Two hours later Tim finally heard footsteps approaching his cell, and he hurried back into the dark. He was interested in what was coming his way, but also somewhat anxious. The raven-haired boy watched in silence as a few guards pulled to a stop in front of his cell, peering inside.
"This is the one; bring 'em here." A guard said as he pulled out some keys. Before he unlocked the door, he gave Tim a steady glare. "You try anything kid, and well, I'll let Gerald here have his way with you. By the time he's done, you won't know which was is up, and which was is down."
Gerald was huge.
There was a growl then. "Leave him alone. He won't do anything."
"Bruce!" Tim knew that voice!
Whack. Bruce grunted, but didn't argue further.
The guard opened the door, stepping inside, and then moving away so a few more guards could enter. Gerald was among them. The brute of a man walked right up to Tim, looking the boy in the eyes and smiling a yellow smile. "Having a good time, kid?"
Bruce came into sight, limping into the cell with two guards at either side. "Tim, don't -."
Whack.
Gerald shook his head, turning back to Tim. "Having a good time?"
The boy didn't answer, not knowing how to answer. No, he wasn't having a good time, but he wasn't about to make the man mad.
"Is that a no?"
"I - uh -." Tim looked at Bruce who gave a steady look, then back at the man. "I don't know, j-just woke up."
"Well, we'll all make sure you have a wonderful time, kiddo." The way he said it told Tim that this was going to be hell. And with that the man turned away, followed by the rest of the guards, leaving Tim and Bruce alone in the cell.
There was a silence that ensued, and Tim couldn't help but break it. "Are you ok?"
"What the hell were you thinking!" Bruce was livid, his cold eyes colder than ever. He continued bellowing. "DO YOU KNOW WHERE WE ARE? Timothy Drake, you are an idiot! A god damn idiot!"
The boy kept his mouth shut, backing a way a little. "I couldn't let them just take you."
"Well, you sure as hell are a great help here, aren't you!" Sarcasm all around. "So much help! You think that they're going to let you be? I don't believe you. You know what they're planning to do to you?"
"Uh, n-no."
Bruce stopped there. He shut his mouth and turned away.
The boy was scared, scared stiff. Scared because, apparently, Bruce was scared. And Bruce scared meant his fate was bad, which meant that Bruce didn't know what to do. "B-Bruce?"
"I'm thinking, Tim. We need to get you out of here."
"You too." Tim made his way to the man's side. "I can't leave without you!"
"You can and will, unless you enjoy time with the Joker? Or perhaps Two-Face?" Bruce smacked his forehead and then looked at Tim, a little worried.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing, ok? I don't mean anything." The man slunk to the floor, looking at Tim. "Are you ok?"
The boy was still for a moment, and then shook his head. Plain as day, he replied. "No. I hate you. You're a bastard." And with that he sat down, glaring at the ground. 'Bruce is just scaring you, that's all. He's just scaring you.'
'No he's not.'
Bruce was silent, looking at his hands, then at Tim. "Why didn't you listen to me?"
The boy shook his head, refusing to answer.
"Timothy."
"We're in a goddamn prison, waiting to be tortured, and you lecture me! I'm about to become a 'plaything' for the Joker and you lecture me! I just spent the last few weeks thinking I was insane, thinking I was doing this to myself." The boy indicated to a series of burn marks covering his body. Tim let it all out, all the stress. "You didn't trust me! You just got mad at me. And – and … you're a fucking jerk!" And Tim burst into a wave of tears.
Bruce didn't move at first, he let Tim cry, which just scared the boy all the more, causing him to go from scared to petrified.
"Stop it, Tim." Bruce was on his feet again, looking around. Never a man who had been able to apologize well, he did the best he could. "I have no intention of letting them hurt you."
"Y-you can't stop the, the Joker." The boy felt stupid now, as he tried to convince the man that he was doomed.
"I can." The man didn't budge. "Now calm down, you're a bit old for that."
The boy sniffed, and then hid his face, not happy with Bruce. Not happy at all.
The two sat for half an hour in silence when footsteps rang through the hall. Tim got to his feet and walked to where Bruce sat. "What's the plan?"
"Nothing at the moment, we'll see who is coming and then I'll tell you." Bruce looked up at the boy, and then slowly, as if it hurt, got to his own feet.
'That's right, it would hurt, he was shot … son of a bitch didn't tell me how he was though, no had to tell me what a goddamn idiot I was.'
It was Gerald, the huge guard, and he stopped in front of the cell. "All right, Mr. Wayne, our boss would like to see you, if you would?"
"What of Tim?" Bruce looked evenly at the man. "He's coming with?"
"No, he's staying here."
"I'd like him to come with."
Gerald laughed, laughed hard. He shook his head. "Oh, no, I don't think so. He'll stay here, and if something happens to him, it happens. Tough luck, Mr. Wayne."
"He comes, or I will put up resistance."
There was silence that followed, and then Gerald pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Wayne's giving me some trouble, wants to bring the boy with?"
"What the hell, tell him no fuck'n way."
"He said he'd fight me if I didn't let the boy come." Gerald blinked, glaring at the object in his hand.
There was a moment of silence, then the answer. "Bring the kid; the boss wants to meet him anyway."
"You're lucky, Mr. Wayne." Gerald replied as he opened the cell. He waited until Bruce walked past him, and then grabbed Tim, placing a gun carefully to his temple. "Let's just make this easy, you give me trouble, and I'll give you trouble. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Good, then walk,you son of a bitch."
They went up four different flights of stairs before coming to a halt in front of large double doors. Gerald gave a firm knock, keeping the gun in sight, though he did lower it. "Sir, I have Wayne here to see you."
"That would be Mr. Wayne, Gerald, where are your manners?"
The three turned around to see Karl standing peacefully behind them. "Please, go on in, he's waiting to see you."
To be continued…
