Whew! This took forever . . . I wrote it, then I needed to add a character, then I needed a transition scene for the beginning, then I needed a conversation to happen, and THEN I needed to combine them all into something cohesive. LOL! I'll admit right now, I got a little lazy when it came to editing some of this. (I promise that I'll be going through it over the next few days and fixing stuff.) It wasn't my fault, though. They had a Fixer-Upper marathon on HGTV with Chip and Joanna Gaines (One was a clip show that had bloopers and funny stuff edited out of the original episodes - How could I pass that up?). You've learned something new about me today. I love television shows about renovating houses (Love Property Brothers, too!) and some Food Network shows as well (Chopped; Beating Bobby Flay; and "Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives"). Put any of these shows on and it is as distracting to me as much as it is for your dog when it sees a squirrel . . . :D
Anyway - Enjoy!
Warnings: Language . . .
It was early evening when Bruce opened the front door and stepped out of the way so Alfred could walk in. The older man paused long enough to harrumph at his employer then, shaking his head, entered into the foyer. After closing the door and setting the alarms behind them, Bruce moved in and took Alfred's arm to support him.
Offended, Alfred jerked his arm free and glared. "Oh, this is ridiculous, Master Bruce!" he declared. "I am not an invalid. You heard the doctor yourself. I'm perfectly fine . . . as I told you before you embarked on this mission to annoy the bloody hell out of me."
Bruce returned the look dryly. "The doctor wanted to keep you overnight for observation," he reminded him but didn't bother to attempt to take Alfred's arm again. He was certain that it would only succeed in getting his hand slapped a second time.
"Which would have been a waste of time and money," Alfred grumbled. "You certainly cannot be expected to handle both boys and this unholy creature all on your own."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think that I had just been insulted."
"Then, perhaps, your detective skills have become a little moldy throughout the course of the afternoon," the butler grumbled as he headed toward the hallway that led to his private rooms.
"Be careful, old man," Bruce growled, amused. "There is a future with an old maiden aunt with your name on it."
"Heaven forfend," Alfred shuddered despite himself. He hesitated and looked back. "I don't hear anything. You don't think that the witch returned, do you?"
Bruce tilted his head. The house was quiet but it didn't feel uninhabited. Some ancient instinct told him that there were other living creatures within the manor's halls. The heaviness that had accompanied the Gray Woman, fortunately, was missing. He relaxed somewhat but not completely. Alfred had a point. It was far too quiet for this early in the evening. Experience had him remembering the type of mischief that an eight-year-old Dick could get into . . . He had a feeling that it wouldn't compare to what a three-year-old Dick Grayson could manage.
"Let's get you settled first. I'm sure that Flash has everything under control," Bruce told him.
"If it is all the same to you, sir, I would prefer to see that for myself," Alfred turned smartly and headed back in the other direction.
Sighing, Bruce followed. He doubted he could get Alfred to lie down without resorting to punching him in the head. Besides, he, too, was suspicious by the lack of noise. Dick had only been de-aged less than two days yet they had already learned that he and Jason together tended to be anything but silent.
They were moving towards Bruce's study and to the Batcave when the sound of the television drifted out from the den. Bruce frowned. He didn't like the idea of the Flash running about the manor while in costume. While visitors were few to the estate, should someone see him, it would compromise Bruce's secret identity as Batman because what possible purpose would a League member have visiting with high society's favorite billionaire playboy? Surely, Barry was logical enough to change into civilian clothing before bringing the boys back upstairs.
"Is it possible that he could get Master Dick to sit down long enough to watch a movie?" Alfred wondered aloud as Bruce reached for the doorknob. It seemed unlikely when one considered the child's high energy antics.
The scene before them was alarming.
"What happened here?" Bruce asked the room's only visible occupant.
Barry Allen, not Flash, was seated in one corner of his large, sectional sofa. The blond man turned his head and smiled, looking more than a little relieved. He signaled for the two newcomers to be quiet as he stood and stepped over something on his way over to them.
"Alfred, how are you doing? What did the doctor say?" Barry asked as he approached them.
"It doesn't matter what the doctor said since the man insists of ignoring his advice," Bruce snarked. "What happened in here?"
"I am well enough, Mr. Allen," Alfred intoned politely. He refrained from admonishing Bruce his poor manners in lieu of answers. "Indeed. Did that terrible woman return?"
The room was in chaos, books and movies, games and puzzles were scattered here and yon. Pillows were tossed willy-nilly on the floor. Even the sectional furniture was separated in several places and sitting at odd angles.
Barry smiled ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Ah, yes, about that . . ."
Bruce glared. "Yes. What about that?" He moved to walk further into the room when Barry grabbed his upper arm, halting him.
"No. You don't want to go in there," the speedster warned him. "You could wake them."
"What?" Bruce removed his arm from Barry's grip and turned to face the other man.
"The kids," he said by way of explanation. "They finally calmed down enough to crash."
"This early?" It wasn't even 6:30 yet. "Explain."
"You should have warned me ahead of time," Barry complained. "All I did after taking care of Dick and Jason's injuries was fix them a little something to eat. After that, it was nonstop around here."
"Wait. Stop right there? Jason's injury? Jason wasn't injured when we left here this morning," Bruce snapped. "What the hell happened, Barry!"
"Ah, yeah, see, that's the thing. He kind of did it himself," the other man shrugged.
"Oh, dear," Alfred exclaimed. "An accident of some sort?"
"No. No accident. Dick was having some trouble calming down once he saw the syringe with the local anesthetic. Jason offered to take a shot in the arm first to prove to the boy that it wasn't as awful as he thought it would be . . . except that Jason was talking about the whole process, not just the shot."
"The whole process? Are you speaking of . . .?" Bruce asked.
"The stitches, yeah. Exactly."
"Jason didn't need stitches, Barry. Don't tell me . . ."
"He didn't but then he took one of your batarangs and cut himself."
"Dear Lord!" Alfred started. "Is he alright?"
"He did this to himself?" Bruce asked in astonishment. He hadn't pegged Jason for a self-harmer.
"It wasn't bad," Barry reassured them. "A short cut, just deep enough to require a stitch or two. He did it for Dick, you understand."
"Not exactly. So, did it work?" Bruce asked, curiously. He glanced towards the sofa where he assumed the boys were currently ensconced.
"It did. Rather well, as a matter a fact," Barry admitted, "but I have to say, Jason, although fantastic with Dick, is a bit . . . well, intense, if you know what I mean?"
"He's had a rough upbringing," Bruce murmured.
Barry pursed his lips and nodded. "I suppose that could explain it. Seriously though, what kid do you know would slash himself just to make another kid feel better? You might consider suggesting he tone it down a notch or two."
"Hm," Bruce grunted in acknowledgement. He agreed but had yet to discover a method that would accomplish the goal. "You never said how this place got to be so wrecked."
Barry glanced around the room, scratching his head. The TV was still playing an episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles but the volume was down low.
"Well, I'm not sure. See, it started shortly after I made dinner . . ." Barry told them.
"And what, pray tell, did you feed them?" Alfred asked.
"Um, well, we started out with spaghetti and bread sticks and then moved on to burgers and fries. A little later we had pizza for dinner and chocolate-chip cookie-dough ice cream for dessert," Barry listed. Thinking about it reminded him he was hungry again.
"Good heavens!" Alfred exclaimed. "At least, you didn't give them soft drinks as well."
"Yeah, I noticed you didn't have any in the house but don't worry," Barry smiled. "I made sure you are fully stocked now."
Even Bruce blinked at the high carbohydrate/high sugar content foods the kids had been consuming all day while Bruce and Alfred were gone.
"You let them drink soda all day?"
"Except when we had milkshakes with the burgers and fries." Barry grinned. "Milk, does the body good!"
Bruce slapped a hand to his forehead. No wonder the room was in shambles and the boys had conked out so early. "You put them in a food coma, Barry!"
The speedster blinked. "What? I eat that stuff all the time and it doesn't bother me. Maybe you should consider loosening up the strings on the pantry door. The boys ate like they were starving." He noticed that now even Alfred was glaring at him. "You act like feeding them is a bad thing."
"What works for a speedster doesn't work the same way for children," Bruce informed him. "They haven't the same metabolism as you. They don't need to eat every twenty minutes nor should they have so much high carbohydrate food in one day, let alone in one continuous sitting."
"Indeed," Alfred concurred. "It is a wonder that they didn't manage to burn the manor to the ground in the meantime."
"I'll admit that they were pretty lively a bit ago but they looked like they were having a good time," Barry said. "Dick got a little cranky but isn't that true of most toddlers when they get tired? And Jay . . . Okay, he was a little bit crabby as well but he's a teenager. Crabby is what teens are all about, right?" At their silence, Barry shrugged. "What do I know about kids? Iris and I have no plans to have any. Look, don't worry about the mess. I'll clean that up in a flash."
Alfred winced. "Did he really say that?" he asked as Barry disappeared in a blur.
"He did," Bruce affirmed. "He's almost as bad as Dick ever was with the puns."
Barry reappeared in front of them. "I took care of everything in the kitchen, too," he told them, smiling. "Do you have any more need of me?"
Bruce shook his head, glancing around at the now immaculate room. "You can go."
"Great! I still have time to meet Iris. Hate disappointing family, you know? We're supposed to be having dinner at her brother's tonight and I'm starved.," he chirped merrily. "If you need me again, Bruce, don't hesitate to call. It was fun!"
"Thanks, Barry. I might take you up on your offer if you promise not to feed the kids while you're here next time," Bruce murmured dryly.
"Whatever," Barry winked at him. "Good luck with your Gray Woman. Don't hesitate to call the League if you need help dealing with her."
"I'm hoping that it won't come to that," Bruce said. Unfortunately, he didn't believe that would be the case. He was withholding judgment, however, until he had spoken to someone who had a better handle on the magic aspect of it than he did.
"Glad you're feeling better, Alfred," Barry told the older man right before he disappeared again, leaving behind him only a stiff breeze that quickly settled.
"It's early but you might put the children to bed while I see to the mess in the library, sir," Alfred said. Bruce laid a hand on his arm to stop him.
"You are the one going straight to bed," Bruce insisted as he made his way over to the sofa to check on the boys. "The library can wait until tomorrow. I'll just make certain the windows are covered and the doors shut."
"Pish," the older man tsked. "Will you be going out tonight, sir?"
"Not tonight, Alfred. I have the results to my tests to analyze and several more yet to run," he told him. "And I am expecting a guest." In answer to the question in the butler's eyes, Bruce continued. "If all goes well, he will know who our Gray Woman is and how to stop her."
"Will you be requiring my services, then?" The butler asked.
"No, Alfred. I was serious about you going to bed. I don't want to see you doing anything but resting until Tuesday . . .?" But the older man was already shaking his head. "Tomorrow, then."
Alfred sighed heavily, as if Bruce were putting him out. "Very well, then, although it is under protest."
"I'm only insisting because I care about you," Bruce smiled. "You are getting up in years, after all . . ."
Alfred glared. "Here now! There's no reason to insult me!"
Bruce chuckled as he leaned down to shake Jason awake.
"Hngh, wha-?" Jason blinked owlishly at Bruce. "Oh, you're back!" He sat up and looked around at the pristine room. "How's Alf? He must be feeling better if he cleaned up in here."
"Alfred is feeling better, thank you, but he didn't clean up after your mess. Barry did that before he left," Bruce informed him. "What were you thinking eating and drinking everything Flash gave you?"
"That I miss eating junk food sometimes?" Jay shrugged, smirking. He rubbed his head with one hand and yawned. "You know, you probably shouldn't let Dickie have sugar, though. He was bouncing off of the walls and furniture like he was in a pinball machine."
"Hm, so I heard. You couldn't have stopped him?"
"Why would I want to do that?" Jason asked incredulously. "He was freaking hilarious! He was pretending he was a teenage mutant ninja turtle . . ."
Bruce blinked at the reference but let it go. He didn't want to know. "I meant from eating the sugar."
"I repeat, why would I want to do that?" Jason grinned at him.
The turtle in question was asleep face-down on the other end of the sectional. His bottom was in the air and his thumb tucked back into his mouth. The child had so exhausted himself throughout the course of the day that he had barely enough energy to suck on it. Instead, drool coated the appendage and the sofa cushion beneath him.
"Um, you're not worried that he'll get bucked teeth or something, sucking on his thumb like that?" Jason wondered as Bruce bent down to pick the boy up.
"Perhaps, if I thought he would be in this form for any length of time, but the one of the perks of being a billionaire is I can afford proper dental care," Bruce smiled, showing off a set of perfect teeth.
You'd think your dentist would become suspicious after a while," Jason snorted. "I guess, considering what you do every night, having a good dental plan probably comes in handy, eh?"
"That it does, Jason. That it does." Turning, Bruce began carrying Dick upstairs to his room. "But, hopefully after tonight, it will no longer be an issue."
Jason followed in his wake. "Why? What happens tonight?"
"I have someone coming whom I hope can reverse whatever spell the Gray Woman placed on Dick," he told the teen. "I'll have to get him up in another hour or so for that meeting but perhaps the nap will put him in a better mood."
"Yeah, he was getting kind of cranky there at the end," Jason agreed.
Bruce hesitated at Dick's bedroom door. Jason looked into the darkened room with trepidation as well.
"You could lay him down in my room, I guess," the older boy offered generously. "He might get upset waking up alone in here after last night and this morning."
He nodded. "I thought so, too," Bruce murmured. "You wouldn't mind?"
Jay shrugged. "Just don't lay him on his stomach. I don't want him to get drool all over my sheets."
Bruce smirked. "Yes, I could see where that might become a problem," he said, following the boy into his room across the hall.
After he tucked the toddler into Jason's bed, Bruce didn't leave as Jason expected. Instead, Bruce sat on the foot of the bed and motioned for Jay to join him there.
"What's up? Did you want me to keep an eye on the rugrat for you again?"
"No," he said. "I wanted to talk with you . . . about your actions last night and this morning."
Jason stiffened. "Am I in trouble?"
Bruce laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "No. You're not in trouble."
Jason didn't look as though he believed him. He fidgeted nervously.
"Jason," Bruce began, "I owe you an apology. I had believed you to be jealous of Dick and was concerned that it might affect the way you treated him. Your actions last night and today, however, have proven my hasty assumptions wrong . . ."
The teen blinked at the apology. He hadn't been expecting that. But he felt compelled to correct Bruce, nonetheless.
"No, you weren't wrong . . . Well," he hunched his shoulders a little and studied his socks, "not completely, anyway. I was jealous and angry and maybe I might have even picked a fight with him over it but that was with the guy who was here a month ago. You know, when he was still . . . um, normal." Jason glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping toddler curled into a tight ball in the center of his bed. "But . . . well, look at him! He's just this little thing now and he doesn't even remember meeting me before or anything! It's kind of hard to hold a grudge against a baby."
Bruce glanced back briefly but his attention at this moment was for the teenager who was struggling to make sense of what he was thinking and feeling.
Jason sighed. "Before he was this arrogant ass who just barged in and started telling me what I could and couldn't do. It rubbed me the wrong way. Anyway, he's not the same person anymore. Now, he's the one who needs protecting from the world."
Bruce blew out his breath through his nose, rubbing a hand across the stubble across his jaw. "You should realize that when Dick said those things, he wasn't trying to hurt you. If anything, he was looking out for you, although I know it didn't seem that way at the time. He came back, I think, to work out a few of our problems but ran into you dressed in his old costume. It had to be a bit of a shock considering what all I had said to him during our last argument. I'm certain that he was worried for you, Jason, as well as being hurt and angry with me. But he was right in his assessment. You weren't ready. You still aren't . . . not yet, anyway."
"Uh huh . . . I'm sure my well-being was the first thing on his mind," Jason muttered sarcastically. But then, his voice softened a little. "You know, you guys said some pretty rough things to each other. Did you mean them?"
He took a moment before answering the boy. Finally, he shook his head. "No. Not really. At least, not in the manner in which they were spoken."
"Yelled," Jason corrected.
Leave it to Jason to make sure Bruce was being honest with himself.
"Yelled," he admitted reluctantly. "Dick, I'm sure, was feeling a bit jealous himself. I hadn't spoken to him since . . . Well, certainly not since taking you in. I hadn't planned for him to learn about you that way." Bruce's own broad shoulders slumped a bit. "Let's all agree that none of us handled that situation particularly well."
The boy nodded easily enough.
"That wasn't what I wanted to talk about, however, when I asked you to sit with me," Bruce told him. "I want you to know that, despite all that had gone on before, I thought you handled yourself last night and today in a manner fitting a hero."
Jason stared at him, nonplussed. From the boy's reaction, Bruce made a note to praise Jason more often than he had been.
"You showed courage and an inner strength that is admirable. It is a trait I noticed in you from the beginning. It, among other things, is what decided me on taking you into my home and ultimately, to train you as my partner." Bruce told him. He laid his hand once more on Jason's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I thought you should know . . . I'm very proud of you."
"Enough to let me wear the Robin costume?" the boy asked optimistically.
"Don't press your luck." But he said it with a smile and ruffled Jason's hair playfully.
Bruce leaned back in his chair, waiting for the 'expert' to arrive in response to the message he had sent out after they had returned to the manor from the hospital with Alfred. Getting the old man to lay down and relax was a chore in and of itself and, currently, Jason was being left in charge upstairs while Bruce worked to resolve the problem of the Gray Woman. And a problem she was . . .
Although, after Dickie's nap, Bruce had tried to get him to talk about this mysterious bargain he had apparently made. Unfortunately, the child steadfastly refused, growing increasingly upset the longer he was questioned. Remembering his reaction to Leslie's questions the other day, Bruce had broken off his gentle interrogation for fear of inducing another panic attack. After meeting the Gray Woman for himself, Bruce understood his reluctance but she had mentioned taking the boy with her at some point in the future and that couldn't be allowed to happen.
He returned his attention to the evidence in front of him.
It turned out the black substance had a similar makeup to blood but unlike anything that Bruce had ever seen before. It was not human . . . nor did it belong to any known alien, for that matter, not according to the records he had pulled from the Watchtower's databanks. He was still analyzing it, however. The DNA sequencer continued to work on deciphering what the cells in the blood contained. It was taking far longer than he had expected it to take. Handling a normal human sample was no quick, easy task but the Gray Woman's 'blood appeared to have no end in sight.
The feathers that he and Dick had collected had all belonged to ravens, as Bruce had expected. The other blood samples taken had belonged to Dr. Everhardt and to a missing raven. But Dick hadn't bagged the bird and Batman had found no evidence of the bird's body when he had searched the museum office. There had been too much blood present for a bird, even one as large as these ravens, to lose without dying in the process. So, where had its body gone?
Jason entered the main chamber of the cave with Dickie planted on his hip. It was for this reason that, despite dressing as Batman, Bruce had left the cowl back. Dick had yet to be exposed to Bruce in full costume yet.
"Jason, what is it?"
"You said to bring Dick down in an hour," Jason reminded him.
The toddler was munching on half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and Bruce suspected that he had more of it on his face than in his stomach. Jason, as well, had telltale crumbs on the side of his mouth.
"That's right," Bruce nodded. Damn. He glanced at the chronometer. "How can you two still be hungry after everything that Flash fed you?"
Jason shrugged, smirking. "Growing boys," he said as a way of explanation. "I made it for him rather than asking Alfred. You said to not disturb him."
"That, I did. If Alfred got up to make you both something, I doubt he would go back to bed willingly afterwards," Bruce told him as he took Dick and set him on his lap.
"Thank you for watching him," Bruce agreed. "It is nearly time for my guest to arrive. I would like for you to be upstairs before then."
"Aw, why?"
It was as close to a whine as Jason ever got.
"Although the man who is coming is a colleague, it would not do for him to learn who you are." Watching the teen's reaction, Bruce chided. "Pouting doesn't become you, Jason."
"Fine," Jason grumped. "I'm going."
"Do not come back down," Bruce warned. "I will bring Dick up when we are finished here."
"If he gets changed back, he can bring himself up, can't he?" Jason countered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"With any luck," he agreed.
"I would like to go on the record by saying I vote to keep him like this," Jason called over his shoulder as he started up the stone steps.
"Jason . . ."
"Yeah, I know. I'm going. I'm going," Jason began taking the steps two at a time until he disappeared around the curving wall and into the shadows beyond.
Bruce turned his attention back to the boy on his lap. Dickie smiled a gooey, sticky smile in his direction. He landed one sticky hand on top of the bat on Bruce's chest.
"Bat no eat me?" the child asked for the twentieth time since hearing about Batman.
"No, Dick. The Bat won't eat you," he confirmed for him. "And do you know why?"
Bruce needed to be in full costume by the time his guest arrived and that meant he needed to introduce the boy to Batman now so that he wouldn't be afraid later. Dick shook his head, nearly unseating himself in his enthusiasm.
"Because the Bat we're talking about is me," Bruce said slowly. "Would you like to see?"
Wide-eyed, Dick nodded, awestruck. Bruce could count on one hand how many times Dick had been speechless since he's known him. It amused him that the boy was silent and in awe now as he had been before. Much was the same the first time he had taken the boy to the cave all those years ago.
Letting him go, Bruce reached behind him for his cowl. Ever so slowly, he pulled it over his head, tugging it into place over his face, making certain that Dick could see everything that he was doing. Mask in place, Bruce watched the child's face for clues to his thoughts. Dick frowned.
Crawling up Bruce's armored chest, Dick patted Bruce face and then tugged slightly at the bottom of the cowl's mask.
"Bwoose?" he asked a little worriedly. He tipped his head as if to peek beneath the mask.
Bruce ignored the stickiness Dick had transferred to him and pulled the cowl back. "I'm right here, Dickie. I didn't go anywhere."
He was taking a risk doing this in front of the child. If Dick was stuck in this form for long, chances were good that he might let the knowledge of Bruce's alter ego slip at some point. Had Bruce had his way, Dick would have remained shielded from this sort of knowledge for as long as possible but, unfortunately, the Gray Woman meant that such an option was no longer available to them.
"Do 'gain," Dick demanded.
Bruce tugged the cowl back into place once more and waited. Dick touched the cowl's 'ears' with one hand and then gently touched one finger to one of the opaque lenses that hid Bruce's eyes.
"Where you go?" the child asked.
Bruce touched the hidden button near his temple and the lenses slid up. Dick gasped and then pressed his nose to Bruce's, staring into the man's own set of blue eyes.
"Dere you are," the child exclaimed.
Bruce swallowed his laugh and corrected him. "There! 'Th' . . . Ttthhhere you are," he said, holding out the 'th' sound for a long moment.
"Tthhere," Dick repeated obediently.
"Ttthhhat's right," Bruce chuckled, drawing a giggle from Dick giggle in response.
"Bwoose is the Bat."
"When I wear the cowl, you will call me Batman. Do you understand?" Bruce instructed him carefully.
"You wear cow?" Dick tilted his head to the side, confused.
"Cowlll, not cow," he smiled, emphasizing the 'l's again. "The cowl is the name of my mask."
Dick giggled. "I like cow better," he said.
Bruce chucked him playfully under the chin, making the child laugh louder. The sound echoed in the large cavern. "Very funny. Now, can you say 'Batman'?"
Dick bounced energetically in Bruce's arms. "Batman! Bwoose is Batman!"
"Shhh," Bruce hushed him, nuzzling his face against the boy's neck to further ease the sting of the gentle reprimand. Dick squealed, his giggles filling the grim chamber. "You aren't allowed to call me Bruce when I am wearing . . ."
"The COW," Dick yelled, finishing his sentence for him.
Bruce shook his head. He knew when to give up. "When I wear this mask," he began again, "you will call me Batman . . . Only Batman. Do you understand?"
Dickie nodded.
He tugged the cowl off, testing the boy's understanding. "Who am I?"
"Bwoose," Dick announced firmly with a nod.
Sliding the cowl back over his face once more, Bruce asked him again. "Who am I?"
Dick hesitated slightly, then answered. "Batman?"
"That's right! You are a very smart, little boy, you know that?" he praised him.
"I bery smart," Dickie agreed.
"You will remember this, won't you?" he asked.
"Yes. I memor . . ." Dick promised.
"That's my boy," he told him.
Bruce tested his new-found knowledge a few more times before setting Dick on the table and handing him a set of Batcuffs from his belt to play with. The table held several items pertinent to the case: the box, Bruce's list of hieroglyphs as well as the list of ones he had already discovered. It was only minutes later when the computer sent an alert at the same time the zeta-tube, set up in one corner of the cave, announced an incoming visitor.
At last, he thought, now we might get some answers.
John Zatara blinked once as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the cave. He then stepped forward to make way for Dr. Fate to come through behind him. He scanned his environment to find the source of his invitation only to discover a small child playing happily next to his grim-faced host. He and Fate moved across the space to greet the somber hero.
"Batman," Zatara greeted him. "You left a message saying that you wanted consult with me with one of your investigations. Is that correct?"
"I was only expecting you," Batman told Zatara in lieu of an answer to his question. Dr. Fate floated across the metal grating towards the Dark Knight.
"Your message mentioned hieroglyphics. Dr. Fate is an expert in them. That is why I asked him to accompany me," Zatara replied.
Batman accepted that. "Good. Then, I am hoping that one of you might help me with interpreting a number of hieroglyphics that I've discovered among other things."
"What other things?" Zatara asked him. "Perhaps I might be useful yet."
"Undoing a spell of some sort," Batman said as he indicated the small child sitting on the table beside him.
Zatara stepped closer, his attention focused on the toddler in front of him. "Are you certain that a spell was used? I can sense no magical residue. Usually a spell leaves evidence behind it."
"I am certain that he was changed, yes. There is no question." Batman assured him. "He was nineteen two days ago."
"This feels natural with the exception of a . . ."
"Of a . . . What is it?" Batman zeroed in on Zatara's hesitancy to label whatever he was detecting.
"I can sense an aura of danger surrounding him. It hovers there like a warning," the magician said, moving closer. He smiled at the young boy. "I mean you no harm, child."
Dick glanced up at the magician curiously, obviously unafraid. "Who you?"
"I am called Zatara. I am a friend of Batman's," he explained patiently.
"Batman no eat me," Dick announced confidently.
"And that is a relief, I am quite sure. May I?" he asked permission before lifting the child's hair to reveal the black mark given to him by the Gray Woman on his forehead. "This is the source of the warning."
Bright color caught Dick's eye. He set down the cuffs he had been playing with to reach up and pluck the bright red handkerchief free of the magician's coat pocket as the man leaned over him. Tugging it free, Dick discovered it was attached to a yellow handkerchief and that one to a green one, and then to a blue one. Fascinated, the boy continued to pull out of the magic, bottomless pocket one handkerchief after another, soon making a colorful pile in his lap.
"Where did you get this?" Fate interrupted. He had picked up the metal box and was examining it.
"The origin of the box is a mystery," Batman explained, "but I have evidence that this box came to the Museum of Natural History in Bludhaven from Wales. I believe it was used to hold a very powerful magical being prisoner. One who has recently escaped and caused the death of hundreds of innocent people."
Zatara frowned. "You refer to those deaths in Bludhaven. I heard on the news that the authorities are blaming a virus."
"It wasn't a virus," he corrected.
"And what has this box to do with the child?" Zatara glanced up at the dark detective. "You think the creature it held was the one to de-age the boy?"
"He calls himself Nightwing now, and I do."
"These hieroglyphics are Celtic rather than Egyptian. I will not be of much use to you here, although I do recognize this one." Fate interrupted, pointing to one of the symbols that could be found once on every side of the iron box.
Zatara peered at the symbol and nodded. "Yes. I, too, have seen this symbol before. It was in reference to a half-forgotten legend of old."
"Explain," Batman snapped.
"It means 'The End'," Fate informed him. "I am aware of the legend you speak of. It contains a vague reference to the end of the world."
Batman frowned. "Are you saying that this is a prophecy of some kind?"
"Unfortunately, even my knowledge is limited," Fate admitted. "The legend is vague."
"The end of what?" Batman asked. "Does the legend tell you that much?"
"I have always taken its meaning as encompassing everything," Zatara murmured. "Not very reassuring, is it?"
"All I can tell you for certain at this juncture is that the child has an integral part to play in all this," Fate told him.
Zatara shook his head. "I remember no references in the legend to a child."
"Regardless, he is connected." Fate sat the box back on the table warily.
So, even the powerful Nabu was being cautious, Batman noted silently. This did nothing to ease his worries.
The magician looked back at the boy in surprise. He had finally become aware of the string of colorful squares that stretched from his pocket to the large pile in the child's lap.
"What's this?" he asked, amused. "You are a slippery, little eel, are you not?"
Dick giggled as he pulled free several more handkerchiefs: purple, orange, green, and red.
Batman frowned. "You shouldn't touch things that don't belong to you," he scolded gently.
Dick bit his lip. "I am sorry," he said as he handed the pile back to Zatara. He looked up at Batman for approval. "Better? You no eat me?"
Zatara's eyebrow lifted at the second reference to 'eating' the boy had made. "I should sincerely hope not."
"I won't eat you," Batman assured the child with a sigh.
"I'm afraid I do not understand this reference," Zatara said. His disapproval was obvious in his tone. "Why would the child believe you would eat him?"
"I believe he uses the word 'eat' as a euphemism for 'anger'," Batman explained. "I do not know where it came from. He had never used it before this happened to him."
"You knew him before this occurred, then," Zatara concluded.
There was no help for it, he realized. He would need to explain the child's identity . . . within reason, that is.
"He was my partner, Robin," Batman admitted reluctantly. "Although, he had taken on his new identity recently in his battle against crime." He had no desire to further explain the emergence of Nightwing.
Zatara stared at the child in surprise. "Robin? You are sure? Did you see the transformation happen? Did you happen to overhear the spell that was used?"
"I . . . was not present when he confronted the Gray Woman from the box," Batman told him. "But she has claimed responsibility for the change. She also stripped him of his memories. All of them, apparently. He has no memories of being Robin or of his life before that."
"The Gray Woman?"
"That is what we call her for lack of a better name. She didn't exactly introduce herself when I met her. She has the appearance of one freshly dead," Batman told his colleagues. He hoped that one of the men might be able to recognize who she is with a description. "She resembles a corpse with dry, gray skin, black lips, black iridescent feathers instead of hair. Her eyes have double-irises that are golden and will glow when she's angry.
"Her movements are quick, almost bird-like," he continued. "She can form herself out of shadows and disappear again in the same fashion, and she can control ravens, making them do her bidding. Most importantly, she can somehow leech the life force out of people and leave them shriveled husks made up of dust that can with the slightest touch disintegrate."
"Ah, so, this is the powerful being you mentioned as being the source of the plague," Zatara commented.
Dick's face paled. Scrambling to his feet, he reached for Batman. The Dark Knight picked the child up as he continued his description.
"Her voice sounds like several all speaking at once. It can make the air vibrate and you can feel the rumble from it inside your body. She can create a force that is impossible for a normal human to push through, and exudes fear. She can control the wind and levitate." Batman finished. "Does this sound like anyone you've ever heard of? Even as a rumor or as part of an ancient myth? This legend, you spoke of, for example."
"I could not say for sure. A small part of what you describe reminds me of an ancient Celtic goddess named Morrigan," Fate murmured. "She was a goddess of death and war and rebirth, and had an affinity for ravens but I've never heard of her described in such a way."
"Everything points to the box being Celtic in origin. It doesn't appear to have been transplanted there as far as I can tell," Batman confirmed. "You are suggesting that the Gray Woman could be this goddess, Morrigan, then?"
"My abilities are nigh endless but, alas, I am not omniscient," Fate admitted. "I cannot recall ever meeting the one you have described. If it is Morrigan, she has returned from the dimension in which she has sought refuge considerably changed."
"Refuge?" Batman asked, curious as to the word Fate chose to use.
"She and many Celtic and druidic gods fled this corporal plain long ago for reasons unknown," Fate explained to him.
"A goddess? Hm, that could explain why I felt no magical fingerprint around the boy other than this aura that radiates from the mark she left on his forehead," Zatara concluded. "Gods' powers manifest themselves differently than those of sorcerers. Still, there are ways to determine whether a god had tampered with reality. Whatever has befallen Robin, however, doesn't leave the usual trail behind it."
"What she did to Robin she referred to as a blessing," Batman said. "It makes sense then she could be a goddess."
Dick, who had been resting his head against Batman's shoulder until now, popped up. "Who Robin?"
"You," Batman spoke to the child softly, his normal growl easing somewhat. "You were Robin once. Do you remember?"
Dick frowned but there was no recognition in his eyes. That he didn't know either of those names sent a shaft of pain through Batman's chest. Dick Grayson had been Robin for nine and half years. It had defined him for more than half of his life. It had been a legacy he should have been able to take pride in but the memories of his selfless acts of heroism had all been erased from his mind.
"If this is the work of a goddess," Zatara said, "It may be beyond my abilities to reverse."
"Hm," Batman glanced at Dr. Fate. "Might you be able to help him? He is at a great disadvantage as a child should she return for him."
"If she is as powerful as you claim, his age would not make a difference," Fate told him. "I can tell you that his fate is intertwined with this being. Much will depend on him."
"All the more reason to return him to his original state," Batman argued.
"The mark will not allow for it at this time."
"But it will allow for it . . . eventually?" Batman asked, pushing for more information.
Fate stepped back. "I must confer with another. I will return anon."
"Wait!" Batman called out but Fate disappeared, not bothering to use the zeta-tube this time. Unsettled by Fate's departure, Batman turned to Zatara. "Is there nothing that could help him?"
Zatara made a face in distaste. "I may know of someone who might be able to assist us. He has more knowledge of such archaic things than I. He may know of the legend I was telling you about or know someone who does."
Batman picked Dick up and followed Zatara back to the zeta-tube. "Time will be an issue. I am not equipped to deal with magic."
Zatara paused and pulled his top hat out of thin air. He reached inside and drew out a talisman shaped like coin on which a shield bearing a heart was inscribed.
"This isn't likely to withstand an attack by someone with god-like powers but it should afford you some small token of protection," Zatara set it in the middle of Batman's dark gloved hand. "Enough, perhaps, to give you a few extra minutes in which to devise an escape or shield you from a fatal blow."
Batman looked down at the coin dubiously. Dick plucked it from his palm and tried to stick it in his mouth, only to have Bruce take it away from him. Batman sighed.
"Of course, it would be the right size to become a choking hazard," he muttered sarcastically before remembering his manners. Alfred would have had his head had he been present. "Thank you, Zatara. I'm sure it will come in handy. Will you be returning 'anon' as well?"
"I shall," Zatara promised. "Of course, I may have to convince him first," he said quietly, under his breath.
"Take this list of symbols with you. It might help." Batman handed him the paper with his scribbled hieroglyphics drawn on it.
Zatara smiled, taking the proffered paper. "It couldn't hurt," he admitted. "Do you plan to enlist the help of the League?"
"I would prefer to have something more to tell them first," he told the older man. He didn't mention how close he had come to calling them in just that morning.
"If this Gray Woman is as dangerous as you say," Zatara added before stepping into the machine's light, "I fear they may hear of her soon enough. Do not wait too long, my friend," he warned.
REACTIONS?
Finally, will the mystery begin to unravel?
This week was a mess. My brand-new router died and I had to return it. Afterwards, I had to wait for a member of the Geek Squad to come set it all up for me which didn't happen until yesterday. So, I've been without the internet pretty much all week, resorting to visiting the library in order to check my emails and whatnot. It's working perfectly now, thank you, God!
Updates which you may or may not care about: My granddaughter was born on Monday (On my mother's birthday! How awesome is that?). Yep, that's right! "I" am a grandmother. I know, it is a shock for me, too. I get confused how this keeps happening to me when, in my headspace, I am still just 22 years old. Then my nasty, old mirror loves to remind me that whatever is going on in my brain, the rest of me is still aging at what I consider a much too rapid pace. I swear it was just a couple of years ago I was this exciting, fun, young chick living life and having a blast. Technically, I'm still having a blast. (You wouldn't believe how much fun it is to never get embarrassed or filter what comes out of my mouth anymore. The good part of getting older, I suppose. ;D )
Anyhoo, my newest grandchild's named Eila Rosemary - pronounced Ay-la, according to my eldest.
Also, check out my profile page for a new story out that I'm co-writing with Goingdownwithmyshipz. It's called "Shattered" and is found in the Young Justice fandom. We have TWO chapters up for you now. The prologue called "Lost Son" and "Gung Bao Chicken" (which is one of my personal favorites. but be prepared as Jason and Dick aren't exactly getting along at this time.).
*Oh, and btw, I still don't own TMNT or any shows on HGTV or The Food Network. ;D*