AN: Thanks everyone for the reviews! I am really happy that people are enjoying this story and I hope you will all continue to enjoy it. Here is another chapter. :)
Chapter 9: An Unfolding Truth
Billy Batson woke up uncharacteristically late the next morning. He had a good excuse, of course: dealing with Batman was hard work, any night of the week! The encounter itself was nerve-wrecking enough, but he felt obliged to hang around Fawcett City far longer than intended so he could check on his uncle after Batman departed. Billy did not love that slimy man who was his uncle by blood, but Uncle Ebenezer was no supervillain and did not deserve Batman of all heroes breathing down his neck, right? It was really bad luck of the worst sort. He had flown in and out of Gotham as Captain Marvel many times now and never once ran into the infamous Dark Knight, yet somehow he had encountered Batman in Fawcett City, in his own uncle's house nonetheless? Now that was a fated meeting if there ever were one.
After washing and brushing his teeth, Billy wandered into the kitchen. To his utter surprise he found Bruce Wayne sitting there with a tablet computer in hand and a mug of coffee. "Ah, Billy, you are up," The billionaire said, "I have been waiting for you. Come join me for breakfast; I have some good news for you."
Billy eyed the man who was his father with uncertainty. What was this about? Bruce was trying to sound casual and warm, but Billy could still tell something quite serious was up. They sat together and ate Alfred's delicious muffin quietly. After finishing off his breakfast and filling up his second cup of coffee, Bruce began. "The good news is, Billy," He said, "I found your mom's research. I already put a couple calls to her old colleagues and students at University of Michigan, and they are thrilled the research is found. They will be working to complete it and edit it for publication."
"Oh!" Billy's eyes widened, though no one could guess the true origin of his shock, "Wow!"
"Would you like to take a look at some of the things your mom worked on?" Bruce asked kindly, pushing his tablet computer towards the boy.
Billy watched as Bruce flipped through various tables, charts, and graphs on the tablet. Those squiggly lines and masses of numbers looked daunting but nonetheless impressive to him. Eventually the boy said in a dazed voice, "Wow, there really was a lot of stuff. I wish I can understand all this one day."
"Do you want to be a political scientist one day like your mother, Master William?" Alfred asked.
Billy shrugged helplessly. "Um, what do political scientists do, actually?"
Alfred did not quail at the task of explaining such a difficult concept to a ten-year old, he only said in his usual voice, "Political scientists study the things countries and governments do and figure out how best to direct governments to make citizens happier. For example they figure out how to stop wars, how to make a more effective police force to catch all the criminals, or how to provide people who are not very well-off with the means to go to university."
"That's like what real heroes do! I didn't know mom was so cool! She always said she was just a teacher," The child exclaimed with shining eyes.
"So is that something you might want to do in the future?"
Billy replied with a grin, "Well, but my dad was really cool too, and I want to be just like him, going on a grand adventure and digging up cool things from ages past, just like Indiana Jones! Dad even started teaching me to read Hieroglyphics, you know."
This time Bruce laughed out loud. Despite the touch of envy he was happy to see his son ramble on so excitedly. He put a hand on Billy's shoulder and said, "Well Billy, this is rather cliché but I will say it nonetheless, you can be whatever you want to be, and I will always help you."
"Thanks, Mr. Wayne!" Billy beamed at his father and almost looked as if he wanted to hug the man, when he suddenly stopped with a curious expression on his face, "Er, Mr. Wayne, what happened to your face?"
Bruce Wayne rubbed his jaw, "The bruise? Ah it was nothing; I was a little careless and walked into a cabinet."
Walking into the cabinet led to a bruise on the jaw? Right, that looked like the result of a mean right hook if he ever saw one. But Billy decided not to pursue the subject. Instead he asked, "So where did you find the research, Mr. Wayne?"
"You uncle stole her research and sold it to a company that wanted to use it to predict global commodity prices. But good thing he was too greedy and kept an extra copy for himself."
"And Uncle Ebenezer just admitted to it? He just gave you the research back?" Billy was eyeing his father again with a curious look.
"Of course not," Bruce answered calmly with a perfect straight face, "I had to drag him out of bed at night and threaten to throw him off his own roof in order for him to hand over what he stole."
Bruce expected the child to laugh, as most are wont do when hearing such a tale of grand adventure and righteous violence, but Billy only stared at him with an expression of unabated shock and even terror.
"I was joking, Billy," Bruce said lightly.
"Were you?!" Billy blurted out.
Bruce's smile vanished in a flash. "What do you mean by that?"
Only that Batman actually tried to throw Uncle Ebenezer off the roof and it was not a nice thing to do! Billy took a deep breath and a jumble of words came out of his mouth in a rush, "But Batman always threatens to throw people off roofs if he wants information. And Batman works for you, doesn't he? Did you ask Batman go after Uncle Ebenezer, did he threaten my uncle, is that what your joke meant? Is that why you give money to Batman, so he would do things for you?"
"That's enough." Bruce's coffee cup came down to rest on the table with more force than necessary, "Batman does not work for me, Billy, Batman does not work for anyone. He serves his own justice, which I might add is a justice most people can give a nod to. And finding your mother's research is a personal issue I keep close at heart. I needed help from others, yes, but I did not send some goon out at night to get your mother's research while terrorizing good and upstanding citizens, which your uncle is not in any case."
Billy bit his bottom lip and did not speak, but inside he was screaming with frustration. That had to be a lie, it had to be, because I know without a shadow of doubt that Batman was there in my uncle's house and obtained my mother's research last night! Billy peered at Bruce Wayne's face once more, the face of this man who was supposed to be his father, and it really seemed to be there was no lie, only a bruised jawline. What was going on? Billy was becoming more and more confused. So Bruce Wayne really didn't know about Batman's actions? Or did he meet a fake Batman last night? But how did Bruce Wayne get the research from Uncle Ebenezer, if Batman, real or fake, got to it last night? They must be working together! Unless…
Suddenly everything clicked in Billy's mind.
Batman did not work for Bruce Wayne, and Bruce Wayne did not send anyone out into the night; Batman was doing something close to his own heart, and Bruce Wayne went out into the night himself, even got punched in the face by Captain Marvel. Bruce Wayne was the Batman.
It just made so much sense in the child's mind. The disappearing acts at night, the bandages on Bruce Wayne's arm, and the bruise on his jaw, oh and Batman's strange interest in some small time miser a city that's not Gotham. It had to be this.
Holy moly, my father is the Batman.
"You, are you…" Billy said, "Who…"
Billy stopped rather abruptly. He was going to ask "are you Batman" and "who is Robin" when the conversation with Cyborg suddenly sprang up in his mind, and he froze like a deer in headlights. Robin was dead. The young and sprightly partner of the Dark Knight died in the line of fire, and Batman was inconsolable. Batman was Billy's father, and Robin? Billy did have this brother who attended some nameless school in Europe, who never called home, who never sent photos or messages, who didn't even bother sending him an email the way Tim did. Billy secretly worried perhaps his half-brother didn't like him, didn't want a random stranger to share the Wayne manor and name, but now he realized with terror perhaps the truth was much worse than what he originally imagined.
"Billy? What's wrong? Tell me what you are thinking about." Bruce Wayne asked gently.
Billy stared at his father, at a total loss for words. After what seemed like forever he mumbled, "It's… it's nothing. It's nice you got mom's research back, Mr. Wayne. Thank you very much. And I am sorry I said mean things to you… Um, I still have a lot of homework to do. May I be excused now, sir?"
Billy did not wait too long. He spent only a couple hours doing homework, or trying to do homework; when Bruce and Alfred decided to get on with their day, he promptly sneaked out of the house. He didn't go as Captain Marvel, instead he just ran off leaving a clear trail for every camera on the grounds to see. He didn't really think through it, but his instincts had told him this was a mystery he needed to solve as Billy Batson. Using his wits and puppy-eyed sweetness, he managed to ask and beg his way to Gotham's Hollows, which was said to be a cemetery for the rich, privileged, and most beloved. A few acres in one corner of the Hollows belonged solely to the Wayne family.
In the full light of the autumn sun the aged graveyard looked beautiful and peaceful, the grass green and finely manicured and the headstones old but elegant. Billy walked through the cemetery, looking left and right. Those Waynes buried here, they were all his family, his grandparents and great-grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins however many time removed. If he weren't so troubled he might have appreciated the fact a little more. Billy had no idea what he was looking for or what he expected find. Surely there wouldn't be a headstone that just says "Robin, partner of Batman", nor would there be one for Damian Wayne, because everyone insisted Damian was simply studying and traveling in Europe. But still he walked and looked, searching; maybe a fresh tomb, a new stone tablet bearing a fake looking name, a familiar arrangement of flowers—any clue would do.
What Billy did not expect was a familiar tall figure wrapped in trench coat entering his line of vision, crossing the cemetery, and then leaving through a side gate. That was Dick Grayson, wasn't it? It shouldn't be; Dick's parents were buried at the Gotham Park Cemetery half a city away, Dick had told him this. But that was Dick, as sure as the daylight around him, tall and powerful but hunched over with sadness. Billy blinked a few times owlishly, before he took off running. His heart thumped in his chest as he raced towards the place Dick left behind.
Indeed there was a new grave, marked by a fresh, grand tombstone. The white marble was completely unmarked, not a word could be found, only a gleaming obelisk so new and shiny it hurt the eyes to see. There were no flowers at the grave either, but there was a copy of a video game. Billy picked up the game box with trembling hands and stared at the colorful cover image. Swordhunter, huh.
"What kind of things does Damian like?" He had once asked Barbara in that rambling way of his, "Is he more bookish or more athletic? I really want to get him an awesome Christmas present, but he must have like everything he wants! I hope he will actually like the Christmas present I pick. Does he like games, by the way?"
Barbara laughed, mirthlessly and nervously, before replying, "Yeah, Damian likes video games; if you get him some new game I am sure he will enjoy it."
"Oh, well, that shouldn't be too hard, right? What kind of games does he really like?"
"To be honest I can't be sure, it's so hard keeping up with you kids and your games," Barbara still seemed nervous as she forced a smile, "But there is this series he liked, Sword… something? Ah, Swordhunter. Dick mentioned it once."
Billy hugged the game close to his chest and started running. He didn't bother looking for buses or taxis, didn't bother asking friendly strangers for a ride, he just ran and ran. It was more than three miles from the Wayne cemetery in the Hollows to the manor, but he ran it all the way. Once back at the manor, even though he was panting and thirsty, his mouth parched, he did not bother going to the kitchen. He went straight to the games room and popped Swordhunter into the game console.
Billy never played a video game before, and in all honesty, he didn't even like playing video games. Swordhunter felt more like a chore than an enjoyment. But he hacked away at the game with something that almost felt like vengeance, and he was afraid to even blink lest he missed anything. That was how Bruce and Alfred found him, holed away in the games room that he never bothered with before and playing like a man on a mission.
"What do you think you are doing, young man," Bruce said as he marched into the games room, "Why did you run off? Where have you been? I do not tolerate that kind of behavior under my roof."
Billy started. His first reaction was that he should turn off the TV but Bruce Wayne stood between him and the remote control. He thought about quitting the game but when an enemy charged at him onscreen he responded with a knee jerk reaction. It was even harder to look at his father now so he kept his eyes fixed on the giant screen, where his character was hacking a bloody path through a sea of ninjas. "I…I went out to get this game," Eventually he mumbled, hands never leaving the controller, "People were talking about it at school and everyone played it. They laughed at me when I said I don't know anything about it. I just want to keep up with the other kids."
Billy Batson was a good boy. He almost never lied unless it was absolutely necessary. Was it necessary now to lie to Bruce Wayne? He had no idea. But lying was certainly much easier than telling the truth. And just what would the truth be anyway? Billy ran away to the Hollows and stole this game from an unmarked grave, a grave that he believed to belong to Robin, the Dark Knight's squire, who was also his half-brother that he had never met? Oh and, he figured it out all by himself that his father, billionaire industrialist Bruce Wayne, was probably the Batman himself instead of just the moneybag behind Batman? This was madness.
"Billy, look at me when I am talking to you," Bruce Wayne said in a familiar low growl and stepped in front of the TV screen, "And stop playing for a moment, this…"
Bruce looked as if he was about to turn off the TV himself, but his hand froze mid-air as he stared at the screen. Just then Billy cleared a level, so he put down the controller and as his character did a little celebratory dance to the game-save screen, finally looking at his father. "I am sorry, I shouldn't have run off like that, but I wasn't sure if you guys would take me and I wanted the game," Billy lied smoothly, "Sorry, Mr. Wayne. And um, this game, I mean…"
Bruce began slowly in a very quiet voice, "I think I have seen Damian playing this. He loved the game." He gave his head a good shake, before continuing in a much sterner manner, "Alright, stop the game at once and clean up the games room. You will go to your room and think about what you did. You will apologize to Alfred, sincerely and eloquently, before you get dinner."
Billy only nodded meekly and did as he was told, as if nothing was wrong. But when he returned to his own bedroom he felt as if he could no longer stand. The day's running and detecting and riding the emotional rollercoaster had finally caught with him. His legs felt like jelly and he thought he could barely breathe.
So Billy collapsed onto his bed and started crying into the pillows.
