He really needed to be careful with what he wished for; that was Batman's conclusion during the second day he was needlessly confined to a wheelchair in the Batcave. He had wanted time alone to work on finding Miss Gsptlsnz. Now that he had it, he found that he was less thrilled than he should be.
His methods of investigation proved as inefficient in locating the imp as any other day, and he considered his options. Green Lantern had promised to keep an eye open, but Batman had a nagging feeling that he wouldn't find the answer in this time. What he needed was someone who could help him get in contact over the confines of time and dimension.
There was one obvious candidate: Zatanna, one of the most powerful magicians in the world. She was not at the peak of her power in this time but still one of few people who could be of help when it came to manipulating time and space.
The drawback was that Zatanna would, quite possibly, get personal. They had known each other since youth, their relationship oscillating between trusted friends and allies with profound personal differences. There had been times when he didn't trust her judgement at all, but he had never doubted her abilities. And anyway, it wasn't like he had a lot of brilliant options to choose from.
The magician was not a member of the fledgeling Justice League, but she was, after all, only a phone call away. Batman glanced at the time; it was daytime, and she would probably not be performing, at least unless she was on another continent. He pushed a few buttons to make the call on the computer.
Once again he was in luck – she picked up the phone by the third signal.
"Bruce!"
"Zatanna… Am I calling at a bad time?"
"No no, I'm just preparing for the night's show, I've got plenty of time. How are you, I haven't heard from you in ages! Are you enjoying working together with the Justice League?"
"… It serves a purpose."
Zatanna's soft laughter echoed in the cave.
"I suppose that's Bruce-speak for yes."
"Hmm."
"What's the matter? You sound distraught."
"I have a problem that falls outside my competence. I'm searching for an entity from another dimension, who might not even be in this time right now.
"… Wow. It might be in another dimension and another time… That's one tall order, Bruce."
"I am aware. Do you have any idea how I can track her down?"
"Her?"
"She had a female form when I encountered her in Gotham, some days ago. She can probably change appearance at will."
"You don't normally get involved with inter-dimensional entities unless you have to. What did it – she – do?"
"...Nothing substantial. She seemed too interested in Gotham for my liking, and I would like to know how to keep her under observation."
Zatanna fell silent for a while – it was entirely possible that she didn't buy his vague explanation and he prepared to elaborate with more meaningless information. But luckily, the magician seemed willing to overlook his evasion and asked:
"Do you have anything I can track her by?"
"Such as…?"
"A business card would be nice, but a piece of clothing or some equipment she left behind would do. I could try with a location spell."
"I don't have any physical object from her, no."
"And she can be anywhere at any time… Without a starting point, I doubt there is anything I can do, Bruce – I'm sorry."
"… If I had a possible timeframe, is there a way to make contact?"
"You think you know a time and place she will visit?"
"Possibly. Is there a way?"
"To do what, exactly? I'm afraid I can't just send you back or forward in time unless we're talking about a few minutes."
Fourteen years might be pushing it, Batman thought wryly.
He thought hard. What if he could send a message to himself in the future, or to Superman – but what good would that do? If he were stuck in this time, a new timeline would be formed, where the imp might not end up in that warehouse in Gotham… Ugh, he knew there was a reason he preferred to busy himself with street-level Gotham crimes.
"Bruce?"
He sighed.
"Just thinking, Zee. I will have to get back to you if I work out a viable plan."
"Any time, Bruce! Tell that cute kid of yours hi from me."
"I think Dick would oppose to your words, but I will convey the gist of your message…"
Once more, Zatanna's laughter came through the loudspeaker.
"If someone had told me when we were younger that Bruce Wayne would be a doting single father, I would have laughed my head off."
Batman was one second from agreeing, but stopped himself – in this time, he was not likely to accept the concept of being a father to Dick, was he? So many times when he had said "my ward" or "like a son to me", but never actually "my son". By the time he was mature enough to accept that he indeed was a father, in everything except the legal terminology, Dick was almost an adult.
"I'm not a father, Zee. Dick is my ward."
There was a short silence – funny enough, Bruce could picture exactly how Zatanna was glancing to the sky with an exasperated look on her face.
"You may hide behind whatever word you want, Bruce. Take care of him – and yourself!"
The call ended and left Batman staring out over the cave. Another avenue tried that turned out to be a probable dead end, leaving him with far too much time to think about other things. All the ways the day could end in disaster was just one of them.
He didn't remember all the details from this particular case – it was, after all, a long time ago and he had worked on hundreds of cases since then. But one moment that stood out vividly in his memory was the sight of two of the Purple Mask bandits opening fire at Robin.
The boy had spent most of the day as Dick Grayson, accompanying Clark Kent, under the pretence that his guardian Bruce Wayne knew the reporter and wanted Dick to get some work experience during the summer break.
Batman knew that the pair was on their way to Gotham city harbour at the moment, to look into an explosion. The detonation had gone off on the dock just as a luxury liner had pulled in – no doubt planted as a diversion. Robin had called him on the comm line when they left Gotham Gazette to give him an update.
The harbour was where the shooting was going to take place – Batman could remember seeing it through a fortuitously placed security camera and started sifting through all the camera feeds from the area to try to find the right one.
He knew exactly what he was looking for and it didn't take him long to find the camera that covered the upper deck of the luxury liner in question. The bandits were climbing up on the deck when Batman found the right camera.
He could feel his heart rate go up and his mouth go dry, waiting for Superman and Robin to descend. I shouldn't have let him go, he thought miserably, just because I remember that Clark shielded him doesn't mean it will happen like that this time. How can I justify continuing to let him out in that flimsy costume, knowing how much better protected he would be in covering body armour.
He was momentarily distracted from his pondering by the arrival of Superman and Robin on the scene. Precisely as he remembered, the bandits' first response was to take aim at the boy, and he couldn't stop himself from shouting at the tv monitor.
"Robin, duck!"
When Superman blocked the bullets with his body, he took a deep breath, relieved that history was indeed repeating itself.
Some of the gang were trying to get away on the small boat that they had used to board the liner, and Batman could see Robin pointing it out to Superman. The Kryptonian, who could easily have stopped the boat in about half a dozen different ways, seemingly wanted the let the boy feel he was making a contribution and threw the young acrobat after the boat.
Batman hadn't remembered that part of the mission, and he growled at the monitor.
"Damn it, Clark, what if you'd missed! What if he hurt himself in the landing… They could have shot him... I'll never let you near him again if he's hurt," he all but snarled.
His worries were unfounded, of course – within minutes the fight was over, and soon after Superman and Robin delivered the gang members to the GCPD.
Batman was still following the proceedings with the help of security cameras, and again he had a vivid memory of his past self, at this exact moment. He had thought about what a great team Superman and Robin made, a team that could make everyone forget about Batman and Robin. Wondering if that would ever happen…
But it never would, he reminded himself. With the advantage of hindsight, he knew that Batman and Robin was a partnership that couldn't even be broken by death. They had become larger than two persons – larger than life – and turned into a legacy, for better or worse.
Bruce and Dick, on the other hand… Not that their partnership had been replaced by Clark and Dick, but it had certainly been broken in all kind of different ways. And it was Clark that Dick turned to when he was looking for a new purpose and identity, choosing a name from Kryptonian mythology.
He felt a flicker of irritation, but immediately admonished himself; he should be grateful that the boy had Superman to cover his back when his guardian behaved like a jerk and kicked him out.
Of all the lousy decisions in a life full of lousy decisions, that might very well have been his worst – and the one that had the most far-reaching consequences. He pushed Dick away to keep control of the separation that was inevitable when the boy was growing up. And then he took Jason in because he missed Dick – it had been unfair on both boys.
Making Jason feel like a substitute that needed to measure up to the first Robin, and Dick feel as if he were easily replaced. At least he could have admitted why he acted the way he did. He should have found a better way – the boys could have had a better relationship from the start. He knew that Dick had reached out to Jason, to give him someone to talk to when Bruce was too much to handle, but they could have been much closer if he had dealt with the situation like a functioning adult. Perhaps, somehow, it might even have prevented the death of Jason – and kept Tim safely out of the Robin business altogether.
If he were indeed forced to do it all over again… He needed to do better, somehow, he promised himself.
Batman's brooding was interrupted by the arrival of his young partner and his understudy, in the customary swoosh of air. Superman immediately produced a wrist-watch.
"Here's that trophy you wanted, Batman."
"Hmm… Good!"
Batman rolled his wheelchair over to the glass cabinets, put the watch in one of the empty ones ant the, after a short pause to think, opened another one to remove an old shoe. "It's about time I got rid of this too. Tell you what… Suppose you replace this with a shoe from the very next Purple Mask bandit you capture!"
"Why… Of course... Anything you say, Batman," said Superman, looking as perplexed as the night before.
Robin too looked slightly confused by the request, but evidently decided there were more important things to talk about.
"You should have seen it, Batman, the gang didn't stand a chance! And Superman gave me a boost so I could overtake the speedboat when the gang tried to escape. Gosh, it was great, it was almost like flying for real – I've never done such a long jump, even on the trapeze."
Batman managed the stiffest of smiles – he loves flying, he reminded himself, don't spoil his fun, he just loves flying…
"You look tired, Robin. Perhaps you'd better go to bed, you need to be ready for a new round with the Purple Mask gang tomorrow," Superman suggested.
The boy turned abruptly from Batman, and he looked wide-eyed at Superman, apparently not taking the words at face value. However, he must have decided there was a good enough reason behind because after he nodded his head after a short while.
"All right, I guess…"
When Robin had disappeared into the changing area, Superman turned to Batman with a concerned look on his face.
"Are you all right there, Bruce? I couldn't help but hear your heart race for a while."
"I don't need a babysitter, Clark! You should concentrate on the case – and on keeping Robin safe."
"I believe I've been doing just that," Superman replied, mildly. "There's not a scratch on him. I suppose you've found some way of seeing what happened? We were in quite a public area, after all."
"Hnh."
"Did I do something in particular to earn your ire? Or are you just grumpy because you are left out of the action?"
"…"
"I can out-wait you, you know."
Years of experience told Batman that he would not get rid of Superman without at least saying a few words. But that didn't mean he had to talk about everything that was bothering him.
"… I feel helpless. I can't even see what's happening unless there happens to be a security camera nearby."
"And you hate it… That's perfectly understandable. But you know my first priority is to keep Dick safe, don't you? I'd rather let the whole gang escape than let him come to harm."
"Hmh."
Superman sighed.
"All right, as long as there's not something worse going on in that head of yours than frustration, I suppose I might just as well leave you alone. Try to get some rest, and I'll see you tomorrow when I pick Dick up."
Batman grunted something that a benevolent listener might interpret as "good night", and Superman disappeared in a gust of air that was slightly more forceful than usual. Batman stared out over the dark cave and reasoned with himself.
It doesn't matter how enamoured Dick is of Superman; he would never choose Clark over me… He wouldn't do it when he was a kid, and he won't do it as an adult. Dick would do anything for me; he would do far more than I'm ever prepared to ask. He's showed it over and over again; he'd die for me, even though that would kill me more assuredly than any bullet or energy beam. I've got no reason begrudging him his admiration for Superman…
Bruce made a face at himself and surrendered.
"Let's call a spade a spade," he muttered. "Alfred was right when he said I didn't learn the meaning of jealousy until I saw Dick with Clark."
Want to see some panels of Bruce saying/thinking that Dick is like a son to him? Look no further than blog/northoftheroad
