Gotham General, room 210 is where they took him after five hours in surgery. During that unbearable time, Bruce never stepped foot outside the hospital. He didn't dare think about it, especially when he was washing Terry's blood off his hands. It's never happened before; the sight of so much blood, Terry's blood, covering his hands kindled a flame of anger dowsed by guilt. That ate every ounce of energy Bruce had leaving him numb and depressed.
Once the wait was over, they rolled the still unconscious man into a private room hooking him to machinery that monitor his finally stable condition. Bruce quietly sits beside his protégé hoping his watchful eyes will bring him back to life. But what makes it difficult to believe that Terry will pull through is the sight before him.
The boy lay there pale and bruised. A large bloodstained bandage covers a cut above his right eyebrow. His left wrist is set in a thick cast and lies above the blue comforter. Bruises cover larger areas of his body, partially hidden by the thin hospital garment he's wearing. Thankfully, it also hides the painful sight of a thick layer of blood soaked bandages wrapping around his chest and reaching down to his hips. Bruce has never seen Terry with so many bruises before. Inque really did it this time.
'It's my fault he got hurt,' he quietly criticizes himself, a thought that has been repeating in his head since they arrived at the hospital.
He always sulked like this whenever any of his previous partners were injured, and they all knew he did. No matter how hard they tried to hide their wounds, he would eventually find out and blame himself. The reason he became Batman is a personal one, and why he agreed to let anyone else share his burden is still a mystery. They didn't deserve to live such painful experiences, injuries, or struggle with double lives. There was no reason for them to join no matter how hard they tried to prove otherwise. Yet one by one, they managed to persuade him into letting them face danger every night.
Even when he promised himself not to put another person in such danger after Tim's tragic experience with the Joker, he still had the nerve to go to Terry's home and ask him to don the cowl. The sickening thought causes him to clench a fist into a tight ball before forcing himself to control his emotions and tiredly ease back into his chair. Now another one is putting her life in danger to try and prove something that he's sure isn't there. Whatever her reason for carrying that name, it isn't worth the sight before him. She will eventually end up like this, unless he stops her.
He knows what he has to do, but his train of thought is interrupted when Barbara quietly slips into the room. She approaches the foot of the bed staring half-heartedly at Terry, not quite sure what to say to Bruce. To relieve the awkwardness of having to stand in silence, she grabs his medical chart and reads the list of injuries the young man managed to receive during his short encounter with Inque.
'Compound wrist fracture requiring four pins to correct. Stab wound on the left side of abdomen resulting in minor damage to the liver and small intestine; thirty stitches across abdomen, fifteen across left side of his back. Shallow laceration above right eyebrow; four stitches required. Seven fractured ribs. Left shoulder sprained. Contusions neck, back, and face. Ouch.'
"It was Inque," Bruce's tired voice breaks the silence. Barbara looks up from the chart to give him a quizzical look, but he doesn't return the gaze. "She did this to him."
"But this isn't her style," she replies.
"It would be if she was determined to kill him. That was her plan, to find his weakness and attack it. She's unstoppable now that she can target it every time," he explains, his voice grim and just above a whisper.
"Is she under the impression that Batman is dead?"
"It seems so; she left after stabbing him."
"Then let her think so, and let everyone think that Batman has once again disappeared, for good. It's best for all of us, especially him," she harshly suggests. Although sympathetic to Bruce's brooding nature, she knows he has to face the truth sooner or later.
Bruce's eyes remain fixed on Terry's pale face. "I know."
She could see the worry in his eyes. It may not be the first time Terry has lost a battle to Inque, but it is the first time that it has landed him in the hospital with such serious injuries. It's why she doesn't want him going out again as Batman. It isn't about the law or interference with police work; it's about the young man's wellbeing. Although her eyes seem to be as cold as ice at the moment, her heart really goes out to him; it hurts to see him laying there unconscious and in a hospital no less.
The look on Bruce's face is the same one she saw years ago when Tim recovered. It's a look of concern, debating whether or not it be a good idea to let him continue his life as a masked vigilante. Putting his life in constant risk because of an identity Bruce created decades ago. She knew what he's thinking, but no words that she would utter will matter at this point.
'If the kid swiped the suit the first time, he sure as hell will do it again. He's just as stubborn as Bruce,' Barbara thinks to herself as her gaze switches from Terry to Bruce and back.
With a tired sigh, she heads to the door but stops to face Bruce one last time. "It's not your fault Bruce; it never was," she tries consoling him with a tone much softer and sympathetic than before. "In the end, it was our choice that led us to what we became. We weren't hurt because of you. It's the opposite; you're the reason we're still here."
All Bruce can do is stare at her wondering how she managed to read his most private thoughts. After a short moment of silence, she turns, opens the door and leaves. Bruce returns his vigilant gaze back to the boy's discolored face hoping Terry doesn't share the same thought as Barbara.
Just as Bruce was getting used to the silence, Mary McGinnis comes bursting into the room. A shaky hand covers her mouth when she finds her oldest son lying on the bed. Managing to stay on her feet, she walks to his side in disbelief.
"Oh my God!" She gasps as she gets closer. "Is he ok?"
Bruce hates dealing with mothers; it never is easy. "It's not as bad as it looks," he replies in an attempt to reassure her. She gives him a disapproving look, suggesting that she doesn't buy it. "He's fine now. He lost a lot of blood so it might be a while until he wakes up."
"Is this your fault?" She unexpectedly turns on him, eyes burning with anger. "Did you send him out on another one of your stupid errands that constantly gets him hurt?"
The accusation feels like a bottle of acid pouring over a bleeding wound. Bruce stares at her, not sure which lie to use.
"Look, I'm grateful for what you did for Terry five years ago, but if you don't fire him the second he wakes up, I'll sue the hell out of you, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce knows the threat is just a knee jerk reaction, an understandable course of action when a part of your family's life is in danger.
"This didn't happen on my watch, Mrs. McGinnis," Bruce lies, suppressing the sickened cringe it caused. "He was walking back from class when a gang of Jokers outnumbered him."
"Is that true?" She asks suddenly looking apologetic.
"I would never risk your son's life needlessly."
Believing him, she begins calming down before asking, "where's Matt?"
"Max is looking after him; they're still in Terry's apartment." After a short, uncomfortable silence, Bruce speaks again. "You should get some rest. I'm sure you've had a trying day. I will call again when he wakes up."
"I'd rather stay," she states, reminding Bruce that she's still Terry's mother.
"Staying won't do much," he tries convincing her. "Besides, Matt could be worried."
After giving it some thought, she decides logic wins over emotion. "I suppose you're right, but please call me if anything changed. Good night Mr. Wayne."
She strokes Terry's hair lovingly and plants a kiss on his forehead before straightening up and heading out to tend to her other worried son.
Twenty-seven hours have passed, but Terry hasn't woken up yet. Bruce leaves for a few moments returning with a cup of coffee only to find Max standing over Terry with a look of hope on her face. He may not like her because of her irrational, impulsive behavior and annoying mouth, but he understands how important she is to the young man. She is his Alfred, a loyal friend who always brings hope when it seems lost. She comes through for him and that's all that matters.
'Any minute now he'll wake up; any minute,' she tries comforting herself as she squeezes his hand. Bruce, now standing at the foot of the bed, stares at her for a few minutes before speaking.
"He'll wake up eventually."
"I know; he's a fighter, no doubt about that."
"He's going to have to take it easy, though."
"For how long?" She looks up at him with questioning eyes. When his gaze shifts downwards to avoid her eyes, she asks, "you're not thinking of forcing him to step down, are you?" The silence answers her question. "He's not going to let you take away what he's earned."
"He knows it's best for him."
"He knows, but won't care." She gives him the best glare she could muster knowing that's exactly what Terry would do in her place. "He may lose the suit, but he won't give up the title; you of all people should know that," she firmly states.
"That's none of your concern," Bruce defensively snaps, ending in another tense moment of silence. Max gives in with a sigh and turns to look at Terry.
"Do what you want, but don't say I didn't warn you. Anyway, I have to go. I'll be back tomorrow." She lets go of his hand, grabs her bag and walks out the door.
Although he hates to admit it, he knows Max is right. He can't stop Terry from putting his life in danger no matter how hard he tries. 'Why are they always so stubborn?' He sighs to himself as he tiredly rubs the bridge of his nose.
A tough night leads Jazz to a late wake up. Although a few hours late for breakfast, she manages to reach the kitchen and prepare herself a bowl of cereal with cold milk. She turns on the mini TV in her kitchen, switches the channels to the news, and begins eating while leaning against the counter.
"Now for some local news," the announcer's voice fills the tiny room. "A large pool of blood was found this morning in Roqueteer's Research and Development building…"
"Murder?" Jazz thinks aloud as she eats another spoonful of cereal.
"…Speculation leads investigators to believe the blood belongs to none other than the legendary Batman…"
Jazz's eyes widen at the name mentioned.
"According to a security guard on patrol last night, he spotted the infamous Inque battle with the vigilante before ending the feud with a possibly fatal stab. His whereabouts and current state are unknown. However, investigators refuse to sample the blood and reveal his identity." The digitalized announcer's face disappears as they cut to a clip of Barbara at a press conference.
"We don't know what happened to Batman, but we will keep his identity a secret," she comments. "We owe him that much for constantly risking his life for this city every night." The announcer reappears on the screen.
"For one, I'll give Batman the peace he deserves. In other news-" he is suddenly cutoff when Jazz turns off the TV.
Her first instinct is to call Max before she remembers Max doesn't stay in constant contact with him, making her as helpful as an English dictionary in China. She wishes she could have helped him even though she's ever faced anyone from the known rogue gallery. She grows restless from feeling so out of control; if only she could help in some way, find Inque and put her behind icy bars. She tries to shake the impulse away knowing that she'll only get herself killed if she acts on it. A distraction is what she needs, and Terry suddenly comes to mind. She tries calling him, but when voicemail picks up, discouragement brings the jitters back.
Sick of feeling so useless, she decides to figure out a way to help Batman regardless of what happened to him. She may not personally owe him anything, but she does have an obligation to the mantle and the city. The best way to honor the vigilante is by showing the city how fearless they are, that they can't be scared away by some overly ambitious blob. The vow refreshes her determination and brings back some much-needed hope.
-continued-
