Red hair trailed behind her as Barbara rushed through the hospital doors. Frantically, her eyes shot this way and that until she found the front desk, dashing to it an instant later. She nearly crashed into it, using her hands and arm to brace herself against causing any unnecessary damage.
There was a nurse sitting behind the counter and she was clearly surprised by the redhead's entrance. Barbara didn't even give her a chance to ask what was wrong when she demanded, "Can you tell me where Jim Gordon is?"
Instantly, the nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not at liberty to give out that information. I'm going to have to—"
Barbara didn't bother listening to the nurse as she immediately slammed her purse onto the counter, ripping the zipper open and dug into the bag until she found her wallet. Pulling it out, she flipped it open and flashed her driver's licence into the woman's face. "I'm Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter. Please, tell me where he is!"
The nurse scanned the licence, eyes darting between it and the young girl's frantic face. A moment later, she tilted her head up to get a better look at her and said, "Third floor. Go to the nurse's station and go down the hallway next to it and take a left at the end."
"Thank you," Barbara breathed out relieved. Feeling a little more relaxed, she asked, "Can you tell me the room number."
"Trust me, you'll know which room it is when you get there."
Slightly disappointed, Barbara swept her purse off the desk and quickly walked over to the elevators, punching the up button over and over until the one of the many elevator doors slid open. Impatiently, she waited for the people already on board to get off before she shot in and hit the 3 button.
It took what felt like a minute before she reached the floor, stepping off and following the nurse's directions. She immediately found the nurse's station, making note of a police officer leaning on the counter. He wasn't facing her and the redhead didn't bother getting his attention as she took off down the hall at a fast clip. She reached the end in no time and made the left turn.
She then realized just what the nurse meant. In front of one of the doors she found were four cops stationed in the hall, two on stools on either side of a closed door and two leaning against the wall across the hall. Steeling herself, Barbara approached the officers.
One of the cops leaning against the wall saw her first and thankfully recognized her. "Here to see your dad?" he called out to her as she neared them. Nodding her head, the officer looked to his fellow guards and gestured to them to let her in. One of the seated one even opened the door for her.
Entering the hospital room, the door closing behind her, she was struck by the number of machines that surrounded her father's bed. She couldn't help but let out a sob at the sight of her dad lying in the bad, wires and tube sticking out of him. She didn't even know what it was all for, but she knew enough to know that he couldn't be in good shape.
It was as if her body was stunned by the sight. Somehow, she managed to stumble around the bed, reaching a chair on its other side and dropped into it. She glanced at one of the monitors and saw several numbers for pulse ox, heart rate, and blood pressure. If any of those medical dramas she saw were right, everything looked alright, though a bit low.
There was a lump in the redhead's throat. She wanted to say something, but she had no idea what. She hadn't ever seen her dad like this; it was like looking at a nightmare and one she was desperate to wake up from.
Suddenly, the door opened and a doctor walked in. He was tall, balding African American guy with enough wrinkles to show he had been around the block quite a few times. He seemed surprised to see her in the room and asked, "Can I help you?"
Swallowing, Barbara ridded herself of the lump and answered, "I'm the commissioner's daughter. I just got here."
The doctor nodded his head in acceptance and walked up to her father. He pulled off his stethoscope and placed the earbuds into his ears. Taking the diaphragm, he placed it on her father's chest and began listening, occasionally moving it to different parts of the man's chest.
Barbara stayed quiet, watching the doctor perform his assessment. It wasn't until he began jotting things down on a clipboard that she asked, "Can you tell me what's going on?"
"As far as we can tell, your father's been poisoned," the doctor answered. "Unfortunately, we don't know with what exactly. When he was brought in, he was unconscious, so we weren't sure as to what his medical emergency was until he began laughing."
Barbara frowned. "Laughing?"
The older man nodded. "Yes. It was...manic. I'd never seen anything like it. Fortunately we got his tox screen around then and found he had been administered a sedative at some point." The doctor then jestered to an IV pole, a bag with some writing on it that Barbara couldn't read due to where she sat. "So we're administering a similar sedative to prevent another episode. However, due to its risk of respiratory depression, we had to intubate your father to prevent aspirations."
This brought the young girl's attention to the tube sticking out of her father's mouth. "How…" she stopped to choke back another sob. "How long is he going to be out?" she managed to get out.
"Unfortunately, I don't know. We're currently studying the toxin we found in his bloodstream and attempting to create an antidote. Until then, we're keeping him sedated. There's a possibility his body will be able to break the toxin down between now and if we create an antidote, but there's no timetable for that."
Barbara nodded her head slowly, tears forming around her eyes. "Wh...what is all this stuff?" she asked, gesturing to it in an attempt to distract herself.
The doctor gave her a thin smile before he began pointing. "The tube under his nose is a nasal cannula, which is providing him with a steady stream of oxygen. It's currently set at three liters. You've noticed the g-tube in his mouth, which also has a closed system suctioning apparatus, so we can clear out secretions in his respiratory system."
The doctor continued like this, pointing at the heart monitor, blood pressure cuff, IV ports that had fluids and medications running into him, and so on. It wasn't much of a distraction, but Barbara was glad for it. It kept her mind off of the poison currently in her father's veins, attempting to kill him.
All too soon though, the doctor finished his demonstration and left the room, leaving Barbara to the deafening silence of the room. With only the sight of her father's comatose body in front of her and her own tormenting thoughts, the redhead brought her legs up onto her chair and wrapped her arms around them, her gathered tears falling down her face. She did her best to keep quiet, lest her father hear her crying. Hearing was the last thing to go when someone was dying and she didn't want him to worry about her.
That still didn't stop an occasional choked sob to escape her lips.
It was in the air, you could practically taste it. It was defeat.
After last night and with a huge chunk of the department taken out, it was understandable why many of the boys in blue would be down.
Bullock sneered at it all. Yeah, last night was bad, the worst that he could recall, but he wasn't about to let it get him down. Oh no, if there was one thing that Harvey Bullock refused to do it was not get back up after taking one to the kisser. That would be admitting the other guy got a good hit on you. That was weakness right there and that was never a good thing when you were in the middle of a shark tank.
Someone with some balls was going to have to take change, especially now that the com'mish was out of commission. Of all the times to take a day off and enjoy the company of Jack and Daniels, it had to be that day. He had excused himself by taking a day off, not thinking like most people that nothing bad, or really bad as it was in the GCPD, was going to happen.
Joke was on them it seemed.
While over five hundred people died last night, he was in some no-name bar getting drunk off his ass. That was his big night last night. Nothing special, nothing fantastic, just him getting drunk off his ass like he did on all of his days off.
Yet if it hadn't been for that, he would have been out there, probably dead too.
How much of the police department got annihilated, he couldn't say or no one had said yet, but they had lost over half of their SWAT. Anyone who was off-duty was now on to make up for the loss of manpower and that was where that air of defeat came in. Made him want to puke.
There were some signs of life in this place; Essen was hard at work, but even he could tell that she was overwhelmed. Maybe it was because she was the only one really doing anything around here, his Rook not counting because she was getting him some coffee, but that was beside the point.
Still, at least Essen had something to keep her down. He wasn't blind, he could tell how close she had been getting with Gordon and that the com'mish, that old dog, was warming up to her. They were close and that was the only reason she had to be down in the dumps, what with him in the hospital and not knowing if he was ever going to get up.
And there she was, working her ass off. Being a real model and shit for everyone to live up to.
Not like Boles over there ,who was doing his best to not be doing anything productive that the sergeant could tell. Or Cort, who seemed to be talking into the phone a lot and sounding angry. Or by the book Kitch who was...probably being by the book or something. Actually, come to think of it, he couldn't see Kitch right now, but he had to be doing something.
None of it actually accomplishing anything. The thought didn't count in his book, especially not after last night.
The smell of crappy, instant coffee met his nose, disturbing his thoughts.
"Sorry, we've run out of coffee grounds and all that's left is this," Montoya told him as she held her own crappy coffee, not taking a sip of. Most likely waiting for him to try it first and see if he keeled over.
However, the news that they were out of coffee grounds to make something that was more decent than instant coffee caused something to snap. What had this department come to when it couldn't keep a steady supply of decent-tasting coffee? Oh no, this shit wouldn't stand.
"Eh! Who forgot to get more coffee?" he demanded as he stood up abruptly from behind his desk, glaring at all the officers who stared at him blankly.
Like hell he was going accept silence as his answer.
"Okay, that's it. What happened to you guys? Why are you all acting like your balls dropped off? Someone answer me!" He glared at everyone in the room, not caring who they were.
"If you haven't been paying attention, Bullock, half of the department was wiped out last night," a voice said dryly.
In response, Bullock turned his glare in the general direction of the voice that had spoken up. "And I bet you're doing a great job at honoring their memory by moping around here and not working to find the murdering bastard responsible. Yeah, you look like you've been doing a great job there.
"Are you really going to let that freaking clown get the last laugh here? Just let him get away with it? If that's what you're doing, you might as well give up your badge and gun because that is not acceptable. Not for cops. Not for this Godforsaken city. And especially not for those guys who were slaughtered. I ain't going to pretend that you give two shits about the people who died last night, but I expect for you all to give two shits about the maniac responsible. If he can do this to those guys, our guys, he can do it to you.
"We were caught with our pants down last night. Everybody was, but I'm not okay with letting this joker get the last laugh. There's only going to be one person getting the last laugh out of this one and it's going to be me when I throw him into the deepest, darkest pit in Blackgate and close the door on his ass."
He emphasized his point by slamming his hand on his desk.
Probably not the best idea to do that because now the palm of his hand was smarting, but he refused to wince. He was not going to show a sign of weakness to these guys. None of them deserved to see a second of weakness from him.
Montoya was in his peripheral and man was she wide-eyed. Surprised? That's what she got for underestimating him. Had this been any other time, he might have cracked a joke at her expense, even if it was in his head.
Today, though, he didn't feel like doing that.
"Now that is something I like to hear."
He blinked and slowly turned his head, his body twisting so that he could get a look at a newcomer, a woman by the looks of it. Long, graying hair, one of the sternest faces he had ever seen on a woman, not counting his fourth grade math teacher, and very professionally dressed, she stood out like a Fruit Loop in a bowl of Cheerios.
The very professionally-dressed bodyguards flanking her were a sign to be careful here.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
Fuck being careful.
"For the time being, I am the interim mayor, Marion Grange," the woman introduced herself.
Never heard of her.
"Since the current commissioner is not able to serve this office, I am looking for someone to fill his shoes until he can get back on his feet," Grange continued. "I believe I've found a candidate already."
The other "men" in the room began to protest, shouting at the top of their lungs to either reconsider or to not make the biggest mistake of her life. They were ignored as this mayor lady stared Bullock down, ignoring all the noise.
Meanwhile, he was the one being all quiet. Looking away he said, "I'll have to turn ya down."
"It's not up for discussion. For the time being, you will be the acting commissioner." Before Bullock could say anything, she cut him off. "As the acting commissioner, I want you to bring in every single officer available with the sole purpose of capturing this Joker and bringing him to justice. I want some figures on our manpower so that I can decide whether or not to bring in the National Guard. The governor's already offered to send them in, but I would rather this remain local, if you understand my meaning. I don't care how you do this, all that matters is bringing this murderer down. Do you you understand?"
Again, he wanted to say no, but this lady...this Grange didn't look like she was going to take no for an answer.
"Fine, have it your way, but once Gordon's cleared, I'm stepping aside. You got that?" Now Bullock was staring her down, but he didn't seem to have the same effect as Grange.
"So long as we understand one another. Now, Commissioner Bullock, do your job."
Zatanna shut her car down as soon as she put it in park. Car door swinging open and slamming shut after she climbed out of it, she hurried to the front door of Wayne Manor. The sky was overcast, dark grey clouds blotting out the sun as they created an ominous atmosphere. Reaching the front door, she grabbed the knocker and slammed it hard several times to make sure she had been heard.
Every minute that had passed on her way here had filled her with urgency. Her mind had battled over Bruce's possible fate over and over, crossing over the line of feeling fear over his potential death to confidence that he was perfectly okay, that he had to be fine. Needless to say, it hadn't been a comfortable drive up here.
It also didn't help that Pennyworth was taking his time opening the door either. The dark-haired woman's first wait here had been unexpectedly short; this time minutes and seconds drug on for what felt like eons. Yeah, she was impatient, but who wouldn't be in her cute shoes?
The moment she heard the door knob turn, Zatanna felt her spirits raise, Pennyworth's head popping out. "Ms. Zatara," he greeted her, "this is a most unexpected surprise."
"Yeah, I know, sorry," she immediately replied. "But I heard from the news what happened and they didn't mention a thing about Bruce, so I had to know if he was okay or not."
Pennyworth stared at her for a moment before he stepped aside, opening the door for her. "I believe this is a conversation best suited in private. Please, come in."
That caused a mixed response in Zatanna. The butler had neither confirmed or denied her suspicions, which only served to up her worry even more. Was Bruce okay or not, damn it?! Still, she didn't decline the invitation and walked into the manor, seeing the familiar carpet in the foyer, the large W alerting all that this was indeed the Wayne household.
The moment the door shut, Pennyworth continued their conversation. "As to any concerns that you may have in regards to Master Bruce's well-being, I can assure you he is quite alright."
This time, relief flooded within Zatanna, the woman's face reflecting that very emotion. "Oh thank God." She let out a sigh then. "I can't tell you how much that means to me, Mr. Pennyworth."
"Please Miss, Alfred will suffice."
Alfred, Pennyworth, whatever. She didn't really care about the butler's name at the moment. "Is there any way I can see Bruce?" she asked instead.
Alfred hesitated, which served to make alarms ring in the dark-haired woman's head. "I...don't believe this is the most adventitious time for a visit, Miss."
"What? Why not?"
The older man stayed silent for a moment—and what a long freaking moment that was—as he thought about the words he was about to say. "Last night has taken a toll on the master. You can imagine he's not taking it all that well. He has yet to rest since he arrived in the cave and is working on a possible cure to the toxin the Joker released last night."
"He...he's been working all this time?" Zatanna was having a hard time grasping that. Wasn't it the job of scientists and doctors to figure that kind of stuff out? What, did everyone expect Bruce to solve everything, or something? "Alfred, I think you need to let me see him."
Alfred stared at her before he acquiesced to her request. "Very well. If you would follow me."
The butler then led her down a hallway, this one different from the one he had led her previously to the sitting room. It wasn't long until the elderly man came to a door and opened it, allowing Zatanna to enter first before he passed through the doorway. The first thing Zatanna noticed about the room was that it seemed dark, at least when compared to the sitting room. There was a desk towards one end of the room a couple of bookshelves behind it against the wall. The ticking of a grandfather clock filled her ears as she looked about the room, soon stopping on a portrait hanging on the wall.
This was the only thing one could call a decoration in the room. Two people stood next to each other, a man and a woman, the man wrapping an arm around the woman. The man reminded her a lot of Bruce, with his strong features and build.
"Master Bruce's parents," Alfred simply spoke next to her, startling Zatanna out of her inspection. Holding an arm out, he then said, "This way," and walked over to the clock. Curiously, the dark-haired woman followed him, coming to a stop shortly after. The butler raised a hand up and with one finger moved the minute hand around several times until he reached some random time, or at least that's the way it looked to Zatanna. He then opened the door beneath the clock face, giving him access to the swinging pendulum. Catching it on its upward swing, Alfred lowered it down to its neutral position and pulled it down. An audible sound was made, something that reminded Zatanna of an unlocking lock.
The grandfather clock then swung forward, Alfred assisting it as he stepped backwards, and a doorway was revealed. Okay, now this looked familiar. The last time she had been led her, she hadn't been paying attention, instead focused on Bruce so she missed the whole moving clock thing. Now that she was paying attention, she felt as if she had just stepped into a James Bond movie where she was about to enter the villain's secret lair. Glancing to Alfred, who just looked at her stoically, the dark-haired woman steeled her nerves, adjusted her jacket to make sure it was straight, and took a deep breath before walking through the secret entrance.
The first thing she came to was a set of descending stairs. Oh yeah, Bruce was most definitely a Bond fan. Again, they were familiar, but she hadn't been of any mind to really notice them. Perhaps she needed to work on that. Walking down the dimly-lit staircase, she couldn't help but notice that they were obviously man-made. The edges were too straight to be a natural formation. The sound of her high-heels clicking and clacking on the steps accompanied her descent, as well as Alfred's softer steps behind her.
Eventually, the two reached the bottom, but even then Zatanna came to a quick halt several steps beforehand. Yeah, she'd been here before, but that still didn't take away from the awe-inspiring sight before her. From the enormous computer set-up, raised platforms that held everything from a sleek car and motorcycle to a medical center, to what looked like some sort of exercise gym, she took in everything again. It became painfully obvious that a lot of planning and building had gone into this set-up and she was suitably impressed. Again.
That was when she heard a steady chirping above her head. Frowning, she didn't remember hearing any of those sounds the last time she had been down here. Tilting her face up, she stared at the mass of furry bat bodies hanging above her. She almost squeaked in fright from this discovery, but held that embarrassing reaction at bay. She wasn't a big fan of small, furry rodents, which incidentally included those upside-down hanging bastards up there. Now was as good of a time as any to look away and pretend that they didn't exist.
Yep, look away and assume that what you don't see is not really there.
Looking away…
She wasn't looking away.
A soft coughing finally managed to penetrate her stupefied mind, causing her to flinch and shake her head to rid herself of her distracting thoughts. Looking over her shoulder, she gave Alfred a weak smile, who, bless his heart, was pretending he hadn't been watching her gaping like an idiot at the normal cave occupants. "Umm, where's Bruce?" she asked weakly.
The butler nodded his head before stepping around her and finishing the descent down the staircase, Zatanna following him quickly. Once they were on the cave floor, Alfred led them towards the computer, angling himself to a long table that the magician had yet to notice. It was then she spotted Bruce, almost invisible due to the coloring of his Batman suit. In fact, he was in full regalia, from the heavy-set boots to the pointed mask. He was currently hunched over a microscope, looking at something he considered worthy of his attention.
Alfred and Zatanna came to a stop a few feet from the dark-clad man, both patiently waiting for his acknowledgement. It never came. It wasn't until Alfred finally cleared his throat and addressed the guy that anything happened. "Master Bruce, you have a guest. Ms. Zatara is here to see you."
Bruce immediately answered, "Not now. I'm busy." Quick, succinct, and to the point; all of which pointed to a clear blow off that annoyed Zatanna.
When the butler turned to her with an apologetic look on his face, he said, "I apologize for the master's behavior. He—"
"You don't have to apologize for a thing," Zatanna interrupted him. "Thanks for bringing me here Alfred, but sometimes a woman's touch is required to crack a tough nut."
A ghost of a smile appeared on the older man's face. "Very well. If you require my services, you can find me in the medical bay." He then pivoted on his feet and briskly walked off, leaving Zatanna with Bruce's glacial form of a cold shoulder.
"You know, I was worried about you," she spoke off after a moment, receiving no answer in response, much as she expected it. She faintly recalled their first few meetings where she had tried to speak with him, only to have the slightly older boy ignore her as he went about his duties for her father. A confidence crusher to be sure, but she had learned how to crack that tough exterior back then, and she was made of tougher stuff now. Closing the distance between then, she came to stop next to the dark-clad man and the table, peeking over his shoulder at his work. "I'm glad to see you're alright after the news didn't even bother mentioning your name."
Again, he didn't reply, instead adjusting one of the knobs on the microscope. So she tried another tactic. "So what are you working on? Something important?"
Nothing. Sheesh, what bat crawled up his belfry? Heh, that was actually a good one. Seeing she wasn't making progress here, she then looked a nearby rack of vials with stoppers plugged into their openings, some sort of liquid in them. With a curious eye, she reached out to the vials with a gloved hand. "What are these?"
That got a reaction. Before the dark-haired woman could touch a vial, Bruce's hand grabbed her by the wrist, squeezing tightly, much to her discomfort. He had a really strong grip, ya know. "Don't touch that," he demanded, tearing his face from the microscope to look at her.
"Alright, I won't touch," she said to placate him. Considering he was still holding her arm, it was clear that it hadn't. "What is that stuff, anyways?"
"Joker Venom." What was that? "It's extremely dangerous, so don't touch anything."
"Well, if you had just told me that to begin with, I wouldn't have tried. Now, are you planning on cutting off the blood to my fingers, or are you going to let go? Because I do intend on using that hand in the future."
Bruce finally released her, turning back to his microscope. "What are you doing here, Zana?" he asked her.
At the use of his pet name for her, she lit up. Yep, she had finally managed to get through to Mr. Grumpy there. "Like I said, to check up on you."
"And as you can see, I'm fine. You can go now."
Zatanna frowned at that. Well that was rude. "Wow, is that how you treat people who care for you? I'd hate to see how you are around people you despise."
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm working." At this, he picked up some long, thin dropper, sticking it into a nearby beaker that held some yellow liquid in it, and sucking up some of it. He then brought it up to the stage on the microscope, holding it over the slide that was clipped to it, and slowly squeezed out a drop. "So if it's not too much trouble, I need you to get out of my way."
Okay, this was going too far. Scowling at him, she noted how his jaw clenched at what he was seeing through the optics before he straightened out his posture. He then pulled the slide out and tossed it into a red bucket, the sound of glass clinking against each other telling the dark-haired woman he had been through a lot of slides.
"How long have you been at this?" she demanded. "Five? Six hours?"
Amazingly enough, he deign to answer her question. "All night."
Zatanna looked at him incredulously. "Why? Why would you do this to yourself? You have to be dog tired by now!"
Bruce turned his head to glare at her, one that made her flinch from its coldness. "In case you hadn't noticed, there are people dead in the streets because of that." At this, he pointed a finger right at the plugged vials. "And if it takes me the rest of the week, I will find the way to neutralize it. Gotham's depending on me too. Now back...off…"
His biting, chilled words; the angered set of his face, the part that she could see; the stiff posture of his body; it all created the sight of a man bubbling with rage and was a straw away from lashing out. Bruce was angry and Zatanna couldn't blame him for why. But when you removed a person's anger, hurt was usually what was left and it plain to her that Bruce was hurting. With every failure he met, the more frustrated he got, and that torrent of anger, hurt, and frustration was doing a serious pummeling on him.
So when he turned away from her to go about his next experiment, Zatanna immediately closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around neck. Instantly, he shot a hand up to grab her arm again, an attempt to stop her, but she would not be stopped. Jerking her arm out of his grasp, she settled it on his shoulder, squeezing him tightly. She then lowered her head to rest on his upper back, the brim of her top hat bumping into the back of the dark-clad man's neck before it popped off her head. The hat fell to the cave floor, where it landed and rolled off a short distance away along its side. This allowed Zatanna to press her forehead against his back, holding Bruce's stiff body to her.
The two of them just stood there in Zatanna's embrace, neither one making a move to end it. The dark-haired woman stared down the endless expanse of his cape, lazily gazing at the ruffles. She could feel how tense Bruce was as he held himself ramrod straight. Sucking in a deep breath, Zatanna closed her eyes and continued to hold him.
It was a while before she felt it. Bruce seemed to sag where he stood, his previous tension draining out of him. Zatanna kept him in her embrace until she was sure that whatever fight was in him was gone.
Keeping her arms around him, the dark-haired woman slowly stepped around him until she was at his side. Dropping her closest arm off his shoulder, she gently grabbed his hand and slowly stepped towards the chair in front of his computer. Bruce didn't resist, allowing her to lead him to the chair, even after she dropped her other arm from his shoulder.
When they reached the chair, she guided him to sit in it, to which he roughly plopped into it. Keeping her best face on, she stared at his masked face, the white lens looking back her. Carefully, she then raised both of her hands and placed them on either side of his head, keeping them there for several moments as they continued to gaze at each other.
Then, she slowly pulled up, removing the black mask off of the man's head until she saw his face. Tired didn't even begin to describe the way Bruce looked. His eyes shown with exhaustion, his usually firm face slack. Still, Zatanna kept her blue eyes on his, never once looking away from him.
However, high-heeled shoes were not the footwear to be kneeling down in front of someone. While that was probably the acceptable gesture to make, Zatanna instead turned to her side and took a seat on one of Bruce's thighs. It was a much more intimate gesture to be sure, but considering his state of mind at the moment perhaps it was the one he needed.
There was a lot Zatanna wanted to say then, just something to help soothe and comfort the man, but what could she say? It wasn't his fault? It was out of his hands? No one's blaming you for this? All of it sounded patronizing and she felt would only serve to drive him further into this dark cloud that hovered over him. So she said nothing, letting silence fall over them as she once more raised her arms up, crossing one over his chest to rest on shoulder again while the other went behind his head so she could cradle it. Bruce leaned his head forward in acceptance of the gesture, placing the side of it against her chest, allowing her to hold him.
And they stayed that way for quite some time. At one point, the dark-haired woman caught sight of Alfred standing on one of the raised platforms, looking towards them. He then dropped his head down, then raised it back up, a nod in acknowledgement of their embrace. Then he seemed to fade away into the darkness of the cave and Zatanna had to wonder if she had even seen that to start with.
Not that it mattered. What did was the man against her and she held onto him for as long as he needed it, the occasional chirping of the bats above keeping them company.