The screen had turned to static, white noise the only sound in the room. The League stared at what they had accidently unleashed, too stunned to even care that Bruce Wayne's head was on Batman's body.
"Was it worth it?" Batman growled for the umpteenth time. The question was rhetorical. Wally was openly sobbing, John and J'onn expressed horror at the scene faces repulsed, Shayara's face was full of anger her grip too strong on the mace, silent tears streaked down Diana's face and Clark looked like he wanted to kill himself. Batman continued to bleed out, small drops of blood hitting the floor; his face was impassive, no compassion as he looked on at this broken teammates.
The anger was the first to manifest itself as words, "Where is the Joker?" Shayara's growl almost matched Batman's.
His word stopped her cold, "Dead." He paused, "like my family."
That comment made Wally look up, mask off and eyes dead, "What? Who killed them? I thought, it looked like, nobody killed them."
"Not physically," Batman roared the words again, "but they're hardly the same people they were. One son a pawn of the Joker, one son killed a man, and the implications will rebound back to the girls, to Alfred. This will haunt them. They had troubles yes." His eyes bore into them, "not the perfect lives of Kents or Wests or Princesses." He spat, "but not like this. They weren't like me. And you've destroyed them." The blood was dripping faster as his heart rate increased.
Wally had shrunk back again almost curling into a ball, Shayara with nothing to hit instead put a hand on his shoulder. The rest of the room was too afraid to even breathe.
Superman's guilt was eating him, "they're strong boys," the Man of Steel sounded like he was begging; "they'll recover. They'll get through this."
Batman had no words. He didn't need them a few strokes on the keyboard and the screen jumped to life, split into multiple images across Wayne Manor. "This is live," was the only information Batman provided. The shots had no sound.
Their attention was immediately drawn to the lower left screen, there was a fire of some kind flickering in it. As they watched it was doused with a fire extinguisher. A redhead in a wheelchair rolled her way out of the smoke towards a tall, dark haired man. She was obviously saying something but he ignored her. He was wearing nothing but gym shorts and pummelling a well-worn punching bag as though his life depended on it. She threw the fire extinguisher at him to get his attention and rolled closer to the camera. He didn't turn even as it bounced off his thighs. Tears were running down the woman's face and she started shouting. The punches quickened, the bag flew off its restraint. Drained, dripping with sweat, the man finally turned.
"Who?" John queried softly.
Diana could answer one, "Richard Grayson."
Batman's head flipped in her direction, seeing the Batman look on Bruce was unsettling, "Nightwing and Oracle."
Most of the screens were empty. There was a shot of Alfred in what appeared to be a car headed to, according to the GPS screen, a Doctor Leslie's office. He was driving like a madman.
Then their gaze shifted to the screen they'd subconsciously been avoiding. It was clearly a teenage boy's bedroom but the bed had been replaced with one traditionally seen in a mental institute, complete with restraints. All were in use.
Kayla Wayne was sitting in the room's only chair, knees to chest, mascara running, a small ornate knife clenched in her fist and her eyes frozen on the occupant of the bed.
It was Tim. His arms, legs and torso were strapped to the bed and he was straining against them, clearly using all of his effort to escape. The purple suit had been frantically removed and was lying in a tattered heap on the floor, bloodstains visible. He was shirtless and wearing trackpants, leaving new scars from the Joker obvious across his chest.
It was Tim's face that would haunt the League. Someone had obviously tried to wash the makeup off but between their probable distress and Tim's attempt at escape there were still white smears showing on his skin. Although the League couldn't hear it his mouth was caught in an endless laugh, accompanied by the sick smile. Although it hadn't been visible under the makeup the Joker had taken a knife to Tim's face and cut it into a permanent smile; the laughter had cracked the fresh scars causing them to bleed again. His eyes were rolling back in his head and his chin was thrown back as he fought against the restraints.
Batman let them watch the screens for a moment then answered Superman's query, "My boys are strong but we will never be able to forget this." He sagged slightly then regained his feet.
No-one in the room missed the almost swoon and the growing puddle of blood but it was only J'onn who was brave enough to speak up, "Batman" he said stepping forward, "you need medical attention now."
The cowl went back on immediately hiding Bruce Wayne's features, "I'm leaving."
J'onn's brow furrowed, "Batman," he wisely did not use Bruce, "I insist. Your team has enough to deal with without you nearly dying on them as well."
"You misunderstand," Batman drew his cape in tighter, "this is my official resignation. I will no longer be a member of the League in any capacity, part time or otherwise. Wayne Industries will continue to fund the tower for another six months; I suggest you speak to Queen Enterprises in Starr City to continue funding the tower."
They stared at him, again dumbfounded.
"I quit." He growled, "You will stay out of Gotham. Do not try to contact me." He turned to leave.
Superman appeared in front of him, "You can't quit."
"Watch me," Batman tried to step around the Kryptonian. He didn't move, "don't make me use Kryponite Superman."
"You can't leave Bats," Wally's voice trembled as he tried to instil something besides anger into the situation, "who's going to be our scary guy?"
Batman didn't dignify that with a response.
Clark tried to speak to the man instead of the Bat, "I'm sorry about what happened Bruce. I'm so so sorry. We can work together, help the boys, figure something out."
The black glove hovered over the lead-lined pouch, "I don't need anymore of your help."
"Batman," Wonder Woman's voice cut through the starefest, her voice oddly urgent.
He didn't turn, "I'm leaving Dia-"
She cut him off, "Kayla's in trouble."
He looked at the screens, hit the button to turn them off and sprinted from the room at the same time as the words "Stay out of Gotham" floated over his shoulder. The last image was frozen on the screens. Tim the trained escape artist, was now free from his restraints and holding a knife to Kayla's throat.
Barbara had finally gotten Dick calmed down. He was sitting on the ground, back against the side of her wheelchair, not saying anything. Her hand rested on his shoulder. The first human contact he'd allowed all evening, she was taking her triumphs tonight as they came. The Nightwing costume smoked silently behind them, a couple of flames persistent even amidst the extinguisher foam.
Batman ruined their peace when he blasted into the teleporter and sprinted across the Cave to the stairs, "wear your comm links" he snarled at them in passing.
They glanced at the Cave's computer screens and saw what was happening in the room above them. Dick took off on Bruce's heels. Barbara was left waiting for the elevator.
The two men burst into the room and froze. Tim's back was to them, the knife pressed tightly to Kayla's throat with one hand, the other gripping her neck, his feet firm. The position they'd taught him for holding a prisoner you didn't want to be taken away from you. Then they met Kayla's eyes, they were furious but not at Tim, at them.
Kayla was perfectly still. They had assumed this was due to fear, but Kayla wasn't moving by choice. She sent them a perfect Batglare, flicked her fingers at them in annoyance her eyes screaming 'don't you dare interfere' and then turned her gaze back to Tim.
She kept talking in a sing-song voice, "Don't mind them T. Stay focused on me. Eyes on mine, eyes on mine. Come on little brother." His eyes locked on hers again at the word brother. "There we go, there we go." The voice hinted of Kayla Wayne, "didn't like that bed now did we? Can't say I blame you, looks uncomfortable. Tell you what, how about we get your old bed back and then you can take a snooze? You must be tired bird boy."
He stared at her.
"No? Not tired then?" she continued, "alright how about a snack? I'm sure we can scrounge up a few of Alfred's cookies Tim." He twitched slightly at his own name, unintentionally drawing blood. He stared at it for a moment, and then the Joker chuckle started up again.
"You're bleeding." The room's occupants almost jumped at Tim's voice, it was raspy and worn. The words would have been reassuring if they were spoken with dismay instead of morbid fascination.
Kayla maintained a calm façade, "So are you." Batman was itching to jump the boy but Kayla's subtle signals screamed at them not to do so.
Tim looked down in surprise at his chest and the fresh scars, "those hurt." He said absently, his hands staying firmly locked on Kayla's neck.
Kayla quirked an eyebrow, "yeah being hurt is no fun huh?" As she swallowed the blade dug a little deeper, "You could put the knife down you know, we could get those cleaned out, take a nap, chill."
He looked at her again, war in his eyes, "I'm supposed to hurt you." The laughter grew stronger.
"Really?" They could have been discussing the weather, Kayla was so nonchalant "and who said you had to do that?"
"My father," the words slipped out too easily between the giggles. The tension in the room grew. Barbara pulled up to the door but wisely chose not to enter.
"The Joker's not your father little brother," she said kindly, "and you've always made your own choices, never listened to anyone else. Remember how you talked your way into becoming Robin? No-one invited you little brother, you just did it. Make your own choices."
He repeated, "I'm supposed to kill you."
Kayla's hand drifted upwards and Tim's grip tightened. Her hand immediately went back behind her back, "Take a look at the knife." Confusion flickered across his face at the odd request. "Look at it," she insisted, "you remember? I gave it to you for your birthday. Do you remember what you told me? One more death and this knife will have killed 100 people. Do you remember what you said then? Tim?'
He jolted at his own name, the laughter fading as the memory returned, "99, never 100." He whispered.
Kayla nodded despite the blood the action drew, "99 deaths never 100. You're not going to break that promise are you Tim?"
He stared at her.
"Tell you what," she continued, "we're not doing anyone any good just standing here so you're going to make a choice." She shifted so that the blade adjusted to a different position. It was now an easy, quick stroke to pierce her windpipe and kill her. "You chose now Tim. Are you going to kill me or let me go and let us help you?" She didn't meet Bruce's eyes but kept hers focused on Tim. She stared him down, "I believe in Tim. Tim would never kill me. Tim is still in control. Tim can find the truth. We'll find it together. 99 never 100. Tim"
Each 'Tim' led to a flinch. She stared him down. The laughter started to die just as it had in the warehouse when Bruce was staring down death's door.
The knife dropped and the tears began as Tim started to bawl into Kayla's shoulder.
They hadn't moved since Batman had left; the League was still sprawled about the conference room.
"Should we check on them?" Flash asked at last.
J'onn shook his head, "I do not believe it would be wise to antagonize Batman right now."
"He quit!" Superman piped up from the corner, "He just quit."
John crossed his arms, "He was emotionally strung out, he'll come back."
"No way," Shayara shook her head, "he's too stubborn, too angry at us. If he comes back it means he forgives us and I don't think he'll ever do that." She rolled her shoulder, "and honestly I don't blame him. I'll admit, I was sloppy. I should have been more stringent."
"We forgot that we were not untouchable," J'onn intoned, "we take for granted that we will always succeed. I for one assumed that no-one would recognize me in my human form."
Wally looked around, "So what do we do now?"
"We wait," Shayara said, "give him some space, then someone should go talk to him."
"Sure," Flash agreed, "but not what I meant. Who's going to do all the stuff that Bats did? You know fix the tower? Track bad guys? Buy food? Makes millions of billions of plans that we don't even know we need? Quote the Watchtower manual? And whatever else Bats does?"
They looked at each other. "We'll figure it out." Superman reassured the room, "Batman wasn't the team, he was a just a piece. We'll work around it. Logistics might be bumpy for a while but we'll get there. We're smart capable people."
"Not Batman smart," Flash muttered.
There was no comment to that. Somehow they all ended up in the Monitor room watching the screens, all channels set to Gotham and waiting for some kind of answer.
It took hours but finally a news report came through from the gates of Wayne Manor, "The search for Tim Drake adopted son of Bruce Wayne is over. We've just received word that the boy was rescued from the Joker by the Batman and returned to Wayne Manor. Our sources tell us that Kayla Wayne called the Gotham PD to report the return only minutes ago. There have been no official comments from the Wayne family but the rumours are that the Joker tortured the boy before Batman could retrieve him. There is no word on the status of the Joker. The family's private doctor however was seen entering the Manor hours ago and has yet to return. We will keep you posted as events unfold."
Diana exhaled, "So she's okay."
"Define okay," Shayara said with slight morbidity.
"Physically," Diana amended.
"Then yes," Shayara agreed, "They managed to keep her little brother from killing her."
Lantern put a hand on her mace, "let's not phrase it quite that way" he muttered and inclined his head towards the distraught Superman.
Shayara crossed her arms, "Well we should feel bad, it is our fault."
"Well it's not like he was keeping his distance," John argued, "Bruce Wayne just kept popping up."
"Because we couldn't leave Gotham alone," Shayara countered, finally finding somewhere to deposit her anger, "that's all he asked, 'stay out of Gotham' and we kept waltzing right in. Because we were curious."
"Because we were angry," John returned, that shut her mouth but her eyes narrowed.
Wally's voice was pitiful, "please don't fight. No more fighting." His eyes were large and sad, "please." He'd never looked younger to them.
Superman stood up, "I'm going to Gotham." His voice cracked slightly, "I need to speak to Batman, to Robin. I'll apologize, offer our help again."
"No you're not," the voice surprised them. Diana stood, hands on hips, "you are staying away from Gotham. You go down there now and we never get him back."
Superman stood toe to toe with her, "He needs our help." The voice was firm, conviction had returned.
"He does," she agreed, "but not like this. You can't just go charging down there. Think Kal, that's what caused this problem in the first place, we didn't think. You go down there now and at best you get treated to Kryptonite therapy again." She folded her arms across her chest, her posture at contrast with the dried tear trails on her cheeks, "You will not just waltz down there without a plan and intrude on a family in pain."
"She's right Clark," Wally whispered, "we can't keep bothering them. Maybe we should listen to Batman's Gotham bit for once, I don't want anyone else to get hurt."
Clark's face took on the desperate look again, "But we can't just leave him."
"We don't seem to have much of a choice," J'onn commented from the computer console, "Batman has blocked all League communications, transport and teleporter options to Gotham. His quite clearly claimed his zone."
The Greek swear word rang out clearly.
"We've got to go now Tim," Kayla whispered. Leslie had shown up with Alfred and immediately started looking after Tim; however when Bruce, Kayla, Dick and Barbara had tried to leave the room Tim had started to panic. They had stayed and because Tim couldn't stand the sight of most medical equipment both Kayla and Bruce were still bleeding. Thin strips of gauze being the only medical option.
Tim's face twitched at the internal struggle, "but you'll all be back."
"We won't go far," Barbara reassured him, "just outside, get some breakfast. We'll be right outside if you need us. Leslie will be here too."
He nodded, his eyes drifting shut, "Be careful, be careful, it's still out there." His eyes drifted closed, "it's going to come back. Can't trust me."
They went out the room and down the hall. Now Kayla started shaking, finally releasing the pent-up anxiety she'd held in for hours from almost being killed. She released a quick sob and then shoved her hands in her mouth as though she could stopper up the emotions.
Alfred put a hand on her shoulder, "You'd better let me look at your neck Miss Kayla."
She nodded, snagged a blanket from a passing closet, plunked into a kitchen chair and wrapped herself up in a cocoon of wool. Her only response was to lift her chin slightly when Alfred brought out the antiseptic. The others took seats nearby.
Barbara sighed and stretched, rubbing her eyes, "who wants to talk fallout first."
They stared at her saying nothing.
"By all means," she sighed again, "I'll go first. The Joker has been confirmed dead. The Gotham PD are listing cause of death as falling on a metal rod." She didn't ask whose idea it had been to impale the Joker to cover up the bullet hole, she didn't want to know. "Harley is missing in action. I'm going to need to pull a satellite to find her and bring her in, so-"
Bruce cut her off, literally, "That won't be necessary Barbara. You're done."
"I beg your pardon sir?" Alfred asked as Kayla winced, not the only one uncertain.
Bruce drew himself up, "As of now I'm dismantling this team. I will not risk anymore kids on the streets."
"You can't do that," Barbara protested, "I never asked your permission to start, I won't take it to end. You don't want me on your cases fine, but the Birds need me."
"I'm cutting off your funding." Bruce said simply, "I won't stop you but I won't fund you either. I'm responsible for you being in that chair, for the death of one Robin, the guilt of one and the insanity of another. I will not put more at risk."
Barbara stared at him flabbergasted, "I, I, I don't need your money!"
Batman ignored the lie, "Dick," he rumbled.
"Save it," the young man said bitterly, "I'm way ahead of you. I already quit, dumped chemicals on the suit and lit it on fire and everything. Save your lectures on killing the Joker." He put his head in his hands, "I know ok? I know. I keep seeing that moment and I panicked and. I'm done ok? I'll leave. I shouldn't have killed him but I won't apologize. You'll never have to see me again." Dick had risen to his feet. Alfred and Barbara looked panicked at seeing him leave, Kayla numb, Bruce calm.
Dick turned into the dark, footsteps loud in his anger and shame.
"Dick," Batman rumbled again, "I'd like you to stay in the Manor and help with Tim."
The unexpected comment stopped the room in its tracks.
"You what?" Dick asked.
Bruce stared him down, "I'd like you to move back into the Manor and assist Tim in his recovery."
The two men stared at each other. "That's it?" Dick finally asked, "No lecture, no rant, no disappearing act, no silence, no nothing?"
Batman ignored the question, "Tim needs you."
Dick sat back down.
"Any other surprises?" Barbara asked torn between wonder for what had just happened, exhaustion and anger.
They hadn't actually expected an answer, "I quit the League."
Tim's screams slammed down the stairwell.
Tim hadn't remembered them as they'd bolted back into the room. They'd had to start from scratch, to reconvince him that he was safe, that the Joker wasn't his father, to bring back any form of Tim. He'd tried to kill them again but this time the restraints did their job. They'd been forced to sedate him, giving them an eight hour window to figure out what to do.
Dick had started to move back into his old room, eyes glassy. He was lying on his bed, half unpacked and staring at the ceiling. He'd called in a leave of absence from the Bludhaven police force.
Alfred was speaking with Leslie in the kitchen. Bruce had disappeared into the Cave. Kayla was in charge of smuggling Barbara back to her house without the reporters camped outside the gates noticing. Kayla had changed, dress-up for anyone else, dressed down for Kayla Wayne and then dropped into the sports car driver's seat. Barbara was sitting on the ground in the backseat, her wheelchair in the trunk. They'd peeled out of the gates so fast that even the fastest reporter's camera got nothing but a red blur.
"I've got a proposal for you." Kayla said as they pulled into the driveway, finally breaking the silence.
Barbara lifted herself up to the seat, "Now?"
She shrugged, "I'd rather not focus on the other options." Swinging out of the car Kayla popped the trunk, "I'll fund you if you keep me up to date on what the League's doing."
"You're going to fund me?" Naturally Barbara was skeptical, "it's not exactly cheap."
With more strength then a pop princess should have had Kayla swung the wheelchair to the ground, "Have you seen my clothes budget? It's huge. B doesn't even know what I send it on, as long as I keep looking pretty he'll never notice. Even Batman gets distracted." She paused, 'I mean it may be a little less then you're use to but it's better than nothing right?"
Barbara hoisted herself into the chair with minimal aid, "I don't know if it's such a good idea for you to be keeping an eye on them. What with Waller and-"
Kayla cut her off, "You need the money, I'll worry about Waller." She held out a hand, "deal or no deal."
"Deal," Barbara said with some regret, "I'll be back tomorrow."
Kayla nodded, "Hopefully the screaming won't be as piercing."
Batman strode immediately for the BatCave upon the dissolution of the group. Checking once to make sure that the rest of the mansion's occupants were elsewhere he popped the trunk on the Batmobile, a gagged, bound and terrified Riddler stared back at him.
Batman grabbed him and threw him to the ground with such force that the man bounced off the concrete. "It's your fault too," he growled.
There was nothing but fear in the Riddler's face. Batman ripped the gag out of his mouth, "Why'd you do it. Why the Joker."
The man looked up, "It was the ultimate riddle, who was Batman, who was Batman. So many questions, but I thought that was the question. There's another question, more questions, more riddles. I've got to go farther down the rabbit hole."
Batman grabbed him again, "Why the Joker." The edge of the cowl pricked the Riddler's face.
"He pays," the Riddler shrugged, "if you live, he pays really well."
Batman processed that, "Why now?"
"He knew who the Justice League was." The Riddler looked serious now, "Clark Kent, Superman. Wally West, Flash. But he didn't know Batman. I was curious. It was a riddle, it's still a riddle. The Joker's not that kind of smart, how did he know? How did he know? I had to get closer. I solved the riddle." The man snivelled slightly, "he made me tell."
"My boy paid the price," Batman roared, "did you think of that in the middle of your riddles?"
"I'm sorry." There were no tears but the man seemed genuine, "I have no excuse. I got caught into the riddles, by the time I realized it was too late." He tilted his head to the side, "you should kill me you know, but you won't."
"Won't have been happening with great frequency tonight." Batman snarled.
The Riddler shook his head, "you're a good man." He looked around the Cave and zoomed in on the burnt Nightwing costume. "Looks like the kids are done Batman, me too. I'm done. Kill me, throw me in jail. I don't care. I'm done. No more of those kind of riddles."
Batman stared the man down then shoved him into the teleporter, "You step one foot out of line Enigma and I'll find you. You say one thing and I'll find you."
The man nodded, still bound and disappeared.
"Risky," the female voice sounded from the stairs.
Batman turned to the computer simulator, "I thought I said you kids weren't supposed to be down here."
Kayla trudged forward, "I was never supposed to be down here, it didn't stop me before. You sure that was a good idea, just letting him go?"
"It's not a riddle if everyone knows the answer." Batman said, "he'll stay quiet."
Kayla dropped onto the edge of the walkway, legs swinging slightly, "That's half the reason. You feel the same way I do don't you?" He didn't answer. "That's why you didn't yell at Dick and why you let the Riddler go. Why you're still bleeding out."
He ignored her and activated a simulation sequence.
"You should get those wounds looked after." She commented too nonchalantly.
He stepped past the weapons rack to the toolkit, "so should you."
She ignored him. He strode past her and swept into the simulation room. Kayla slipped in before he could lock her out.
A computer voice sounded, "Running deep simulation beta gamma 123297J"
"Get out," he growled, a subtle shift in his weight swirling the cape and revealing the crowbar he was holding.
"Not likely," Dick's old sweater came off, leaving just a tank top and Kayla pulled a short sword from a sheath between her shoulder blades. He raised an eyebrow. "Old habits die hard," she shrugged, "are you really going to make me run this by myself later when you're gone?"
A prone simulation version of the Joker appeared before them, laughing, mocking. In the next hour it would die a hundred brutal, bloody deaths.
Sorry on the slow update, these take longer to write because of the type of writing and I burnt my fingers on some plaster and couldn't type for a couple of days. I apologize to everyone I shocked with the sudden mood change. Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter, it means a lot to me that it resounded with you guys as much as it did to me. Try not to judge our characters too harshly, their lives suck right now.