Well, here you go! Sorry it's a bit late - I've had a bit of a hectic day...
Chapter Thirty-Six
"No way." Bruce said. Dusty held the large animal's head and gave him the puppy dog eyes.
"Please?" She asked, her voice pleading.
"Dusty, you said something to carry our bags. How could that thing carry anything?" He asked, gesturing to it.
"It's called a saddle. And the 'thing' you're referring to is called a yak." Dusty said, patting its large sable colored head, "And his name is Oscar."
"You've named it?" He said, trying not to let his tone get out of hand, and failing miserably. He sighed in exasperation, "Well, I suppose I'll have to buy him now." Dusty smiled and stroked Oscar's nose.
"Good." She said, looking at the yak lovingly. Bruce rolled his eyes.
"Remind me again why I can't get you to look at me like that?" He asked. She smiled teasingly at him.
"Maybe if you had a bigger head and had long soft hair?" She said innocently as he paid for the large animal. He smiled grudgingly and put his arm around her shoulder.
"Maybe next time." He said, making his way toward the place where they'd secreted their things until they'd found something to carry them. It took them a few minutes for them to figure out the saddle, or series of hooks for them to tie their bags to, but in less than ten minutes they were ready to head for the mountains. They left town (incidentally the first one they'd come across) and started walking, Oscar in tow, to the mountains.
The trip was much longer than Dusty remembered. Bruce was also in doubt as to whether his memory served as well as it used to. Oscar seemed to be content to just meander behind them as they moved up the mountain, being careful to avoid known crevasses and to rest every once in a while. They were resting in one of the many caves that Dusty had mapped out for the League in her tenure when she started to ring. Dusty seemed confused for a moment, before remembering about her cell phone and pulling it out. She looked at the cover for a moment before opening it up and answering.
"Hello?" She said tentatively into the mouthpiece.
"Ah, Justine, how are you today?" Her face paled more quickly than if her face had been dunked in white paint.
"Watson?" Bruce was immediately on the alert. Dusty listened walked over toting to come out any minute. ntil she realized that she had stood in front of the window for almost ten minutequietly, the unease clearly painted on her face, though when she spoke, her voice was calmer than he had ever heard her. "I want to talk to Richard." She said, her voice soft. Her eyes got wide, and she turned to Bruce, "Paper. Now." She said. By some miracle, he was able to produce some from the deep recesses of one of the bags, and quickly handed it to her, where she started to jot things down in shorthand. After she was done, she thrust the paper into her bag, and then started to talk, "Watson, let me talk to Richard. Watson-" She sighed and closed her phone with a noise of disgust.
Bruce looked up at her. Her expression was hard, "I swear someday I will kill him." She said. She stood up and walked toward Oscar. The yak backed up a little bit before she put out a hand to calm him. Then the large animal grunted and nudged her. She ran her fingers through his soft hair and tried to calm himself. The yak nudged her with his head again, and her expression softened. Bruce just watched her, watching the unusual pair. She sighed, "I'm sorry, Bruce. The words were harshly spoken. He just…enjoys seeing me lose control. And I do it often." She said, never turning toward him the entirety of the time she spoke to him.
"If it helps, Dusty, I know how you feel." He said softly. He wasn't sure what to say at the moment, but he knew he had to say something. She smiled slightly.
"It does, Bruce. Believe me, it does." She said. He focused on the paper she hadn't let go.
"What's that?" He asked. She looked down at it with mixed emotions.
"Watson's location. In code, of course. And, of course, it has to be in riddle form." She said, holding the paper tightly. Bruce stood, coming to stand a few feet away.
"What does it say?" He asked. She looked down at the paper gripped tightly in her hand. She brought it up to within her sight range and began to speak.
"The path of the old,
Meets the road of the new
Soon you'll be looking for not one but two
High up the mountains,
Snow in your eyes
Come find your treasure
But beware the surprise. Is that not the most aggravating thing you've ever heard?" She said, thrusting the paper at him with more force than was strictly necessary. He took it and looked at it, studying the contents carefully. Finally he spoke.
"Path of the old… high up the mountains… snow… They're talking about the monastery, Dusty." He said, "We need to keep moving up. Load up Oscar, we need to get moving." When she didn't move he spoke her name. Then, staring out the mouth of the cave, she spoke, never taking her eyes off the distant mountain.
"They said 'road of the new', Bruce. If we don't find him, they're going to start training Rick, and even though I realize the need for him to protect himself, I don't want him to be trained. Not from them." Bruce put his hand on Dusty's shoulder.
"Then I suggest we get moving. We still have about a six-hour hike before we get there, and we should get there before dark to avoid any confrontations or ambushes. And you should stay hidden." He said.
"Why?" She said, her voice defensive. He sighed, picking up a bag and settling it onto Oscar's back.
"Because these men are out to kill you -" Dusty scoffed.
"I was told punished, Bruce. They're trying to prove a point to me, and I don't think they're going to kill me to make it." She said. He gave her a scathing look.
"Don't interrupt. I've been in contact with the police since day one, Dusty. They've been getting threatening messages about you ever since your apartment blew up. Not one of them have been all love notes and roses, either. They've threatened to invade Gotham if you didn't give yourself up, and have tried multiple times to threaten and lure you into a position that they could kill you. Don't try to deny it, Dusty, they're out for your blood, and they won't stop until they get it." She tried to scoff, but it was more of a strangled noise, as the logic of her husband's words set in. Bruce could understand what she was feeling – there was nothing in world more hopeless and disheartening as the realization that one personally can do practically nothing to help those who were most precious to them.
She took a deep breath and held it, before letting it out with a suppressed sigh. "What can I do? All I have done is endangered those around me with more effectiveness than if I'd actually been trying. What can I do besides trying to make it right?" She asked. Bruce put a hand on her shoulder.
"Whatever you can, as long as you take care of yourself in the process."
They moved out after they finished loading up the yak. It was a cold and blustery walk over the frozen, blindingly white mountain. The only one who didn't seem affected by the chilling wind and mid-November weather was Oscar, but Dusty thought this was only because he couldn't talk. Bruce led their group, remembering the way even through the disguise of wintertime. Dusty followed, leading Oscar, who seemed to take the hike with almost a cheerful attitude. Whatever it was, it made Dusty feel better. Oh come on, Dusty, she scoffed to herself, you've had a whole myriad of pets over your lifetime, and the one you connect most with is a yak? Then she laughed and patted Oscar's nose.
Bruce didn't hear, but continued on. They were almost to the pass that led up to the village, and then the monastery when Bruce called Dusty up short.
"Call Watson." He told her.
"Why?" She asked, pulling her scarf further up the bridge of her nose. The cold air had gotten frigid in the lowering sun, it's warmth long since gone, and Dusty was pretty sure it was pushing twenty degrees below zero. Fahrenheit or Celsius didn't matter. Bruce grimaced behind his scarf as the freezing air made his mouth go dry. There was a reason he lived in nice, (more) temperate Gotham.
"I want to know if he has any traps set up for us. There's an alternate route that we can take if there is." Dusty tried to digest this information as best she could. The creeping terror that was edging itself into her mind didn't help her next statement.
"So you want me to ask him whether he has any traps set up for us?" She asked. He tried not to get impatient.
"No…just ask him which way we should go. If he tells us to go on the passage, then we'll go on the back way, and vice versa." She thought for a moment.
"What if he says we could go either way?" She asked, the nervousness giving way to nausea.
"Well, then we'll play our cards very carefully. But we have to get Rick, Dusty."
"You don't have to remind me." She said testily. Then she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, walking over to Oscar, and used his warmth as a shield as she pulled her right glove up, her hood down, and selected Watson's number out of her contact list.
"Hello?" His eloquent voice answered.
"Watson?" She asked.
"Ah, Mrs. Wayne." He said pleasantly, "What service might I render you?" She swallowed.
"We're in the valley. Which path should we take?" She asked, trying not to cough in the dry air.
"Either one. I'm surprised, Justine. You rarely ever find things out so quickly. But then, of course, your husband helps a great deal, does he not.?" She tried not grit her teeth in hatred.
"He does." She said, forcing her feelings for Watson out of her voice. "Thank you for your information. See you later." She hung up the phone, and stuffed her hand back in her glove, trying to work feeling back into it.
"What did he say?" Bruce asked. Dusty sighed heavily.
"Either way." Bruce's breath hissed in, obviously displeased. Then he reached into one of the duffels and pulled out what looked like a sniper rifle.
"Bruce!" She said, alarmed not only at the sight of the gun – Bruce had always hated guns, and she remembered him distinctly telling her not to bring any – but that he looked like he fully intended to use it.
"Relax, it's a tranquillizer gun." He said, checking the chamber. Dusty caught sight of only two cartridges there.
"Do you have any more?" She said, adjusting her scarf higher up her nose and coughing from the dry air.
"No. I'll use them only if I absolutely have to." He said, clicking the barrel back in place and hanging the gun over his shoulder. She nodded, and turned picking up Oscar's lead.
"So which way are we going?" She asked. He looked back at her, and motioned toward the east side of the mountain.
"Around the back way." He said, "There are less places to hide, and there's fewer open areas." Dusty nodded. It made sense. Of course, she wasn't sure why she had designated Bruce the leader of their jolly threesome. Maybe it was just Dusty taking the 'follow him through trial and pain' thing too seriously. She knew it was a bad idea to leave in all the clichéd phrases in their vows. Next time…
She paused mentally, realizing this was the first time she had referred to a time when she and Bruce might not be together. Curiously, it didn't feel… right. She shook it off. Mind in the present, she reminded herself, mind in the present.
Yeah, right.
They snuck up the side passage, making as little noise as possible. Even Oscar was abnormally quiet. They crept through the mountain, coming short of jumping at shadows, and tried to avoid all overhangs and spaces where they could easily be picked off. They were on a trail between a sheer rock cliff jutting into the sky fifty yards and a decline in the rock, not more than ten degrees steep, but still dangerous were anyone go to over. Adding with the danger of being killed at any moment, the task was on par with disarming a bomb. Bruce kept his eyes sharp, on the ground and above them, trying to be aware of any danger that might be present.
What happened next caused Dusty to scream. An explosion twenty yards away erupted, sending a plume of smoke and snow into the sky, the tremor knocking Bruce off his feet and down the incline, which suddenly seemed steeper than Dusty remembered. Without a second thought, Dusty dove down the cliff after Bruce, catching his wrists as he turned around backward. He seemed to be in shock, but quickly shook himself out of it as they slid closer and closer to the edge. Dusty's mind flew into overdrive, and she dug the toes of her shoes into the snow. They immediately started to slow, but as she looked past Bruce, she knew it wasn't going to be enough.
Bruce was first over the cliff, desperately trying to slow their descent, but not quite succeeding. He was about to tell her to let go when they came to a halt. Dusty had slid half over the edge, her upper torso hanging over the edge precariously, leaving her arms to take the brunt of Bruce's weight. She was already shaking under the strain. Bruce remembered, through experience, that she was strong, but not strong enough to pull two hundred and fifty pounds of dead weight up and over a cliff. Even with help he didn't think it would be enough.
"Bruce, I'm going to fall!" Dusty screamed, her proclamation bouncing off the sides of the snow-covered canyon. Her grip tightened around Bruce's wrists, and she tried her best to keep them from sliding all the way over the edge.
"Dusty, don't panic, you're not going to fall." He said soothingly, trying to take all of the fear out of his voice. There wasn't much else. He knew as well as she did that his weight would eventually carry them both over the edge, unless she could somehow pull them up. Dusty closed her eyes, calming herself, and when she opened her eyes, he could see the calmness that he admired taking over behind her dark green irises.
Calmly, she opened her mouth, "You do realize we're probably going to die?" She said, deadly serious. Bruce adjusted his grip and came up with an idea. Ignoring her previous comment, he looked at her intensely.
"Dusty, dig your feet into the snow."
"What do you think I'm doing?" She gritted her teeth as she shifted her grip slightly. "It's the only thing that's saving our heavily-clad cabooses right now."
"Ok, do you think you have a pretty good grip on the ground?" Dusty shook her head empathetically. Bruce looked down, suddenly unsure, then regretted it at the sight of the thirty-five foot fall beneath him. Then he shook himself. There was no choice. Again he felt Dusty's arms shaking under the pull of his weight.
"Dusty, when I count to three, I'm going to grab your elbows, one at time, okay?" Her eyes widened. He continued. "Try to pull up with your upper body. It should help somewhat." He said. "Ready?"
Dusty visibly swallowed, her face lightening several shades in the ever-so-slightly dimming light, but then nodded.
"Ready?" He repeated, grunting, choosing to ignore the shaking of Dusty's arms.
"Just go!" She grit out, her voice filled with pain.
"One…Two…Three!" He said, pulling himself up to hang on above Dusty's elbows. She gasped in pain, and dug her toes into the snow deeper. Bruce paused. "Dusty, are you alright?"
"No." She whispered, a crystalline tear running down the end of her nose. "It really hurts." She said, clenching her teeth.
"Just a few minutes more, Dusty, that's all I ask. When I go up, I'm going to grab your shoulders. Take a hold under my arms, all right? One…Two -"
"Bruce! Wait! No!" She screamed, sliding forward. Lunging forward, he grabbed onto the ledge. Dusty grabbed onto Bruce's shoulders and swung down. Now they were both hanging precariously on the cold stone edge. Dusty was breathing hard, and trying not to let the pain in her shoulders distract her or make her let go.
"Are you all right?" Bruce asked, once her breathing calmed. She didn't know. In every other way but her shoulders, she was fine, but her shoulders were enough to make her pause.
"My shoulders are killing me." She finally gathered enough control to say, but her voice was soft with a biting edge, and Bruce could tell that she couldn't hold on much longer.
"Do you think that you could climb up? You wouldn't have to help me up, but I can't climb up with you on my back." Her breath hitched.
"I'll try, Bruce." She whispered into his ear, the agony in her voice carrying through as clear as light through a magnifying glass.
"That's it. Okay, use my belt as a foothold. Put your right foot in there, and then use the ledge to pull yourself up." He said, there was a pause, and then she acknowledged. In an extreme effort, she pulled herself up on to the ledge, and then moved back so Bruce could pull himself up as well. In a matter of two minutes, not only was he up beside her, but also helping her to ease the pain in her shoulders.
"You'll be okay, Dusty. You'll be fine." He kissed the side of her head, "I am so proud of you." Dusty heaved for breath, coughing in the cold dry air and she tried to make the pain in her arms subside. Together, they stood, staggering slightly up the incline to where Oscar was a few yards away from where they left him, frightened slightly by the shouting.
Once they made it to the trail, they made sure Oscar was alright, and then headed back the way they came. There were caves near the main pass that they needed to go through, and it was ideal place to spend the night. Cold, tired and frazzled, they hiked double time to the place they were to set up camp, and within minutes of arriving were set up, and huddled together against the back wall.
"Somehow, whenever I come to Tibet, I'm always cold, no matter when or what the temperature is." Dusty said, sipping her cold soup, happy at least for the much-wanted nourishment it gave. Bruce smiled. He leaned closer to her and then, after they finished their dinners, drifted off to sleep.
He awoke in confusion. Dusty was screaming, fighting off an invisible captor as she screamed for him to wake up and help her. He just couldn't seem to move. A blinding pain rocketed through his head, and everything seemed to pulse with the rhythm of his heart. Dusty's screaming was louder than before, more frantic. Everything was fading to black…
Dusty screamed louder after they had clubbed Bruce over the head. Even in the sporadic flashes of light, she could see blood trickling from his head onto the icy floor of the cave. Oscar was in a panic, torn between staying to help his masters and fleeing for his life. Dusty struggled against the men holding her, cursing her lack of strength for the second time in two days.
"Wayne!" A familiar musical voice brought her mind back into gear. She glared at Montague with every ounce of hatred that she held in her body. He glared back, "I'm afraid, my dear Mrs. Wayne, that you are not going to be Mrs. Wayne much longer." Her face paled and her eyes flashed down to where Bruce lay in the dim light. "In more ways than one, it seems." He continued. "Now tell me, Justine. Wouldn't you like to just…forget everything?" Panic triggered in the back of her mind at this question, as well as at the appearance of a hypodermic needle.
"No!" She whimpered, squirming away as Montague stepped over Bruce's fallen body and held it up to her face.
"Why not? Your brother in the hands of your worst enemy, your husband and parents dead…Again, why not?" Dusty was breathing hard, trying not to throw up or hyperventilate.
"I can't – I can't…" She said, sobbing dry tears, her heart thudding loudly in her ears.
"You can't what, Justine? You can't refuse? All right…" She had gone deathly still, the only thing seemingly moving was her heart, still crashing against the inside of her chest. Without any further delay, he pulled off her glove and stuck the needle in her wrist, depressing the syringe.
The effect was immediate. Her heart started to slow, her eyes started to droop, and everything took on a fuzzy haze in the dim pre-dawn hours. I'm going to die, she thought, her legs giving out from under her.
I'm going to die.
Thanks to Serpentinia Malfoy, theotherbatman, Bryt, Siriusly-a-princess, and motherduckatschool for reviewing. I hope those who were at earlier chapters were able to make it all the way through...
Also, thanks to Bryt who read this over with me, even though it was almost midnight... You rock my slightly boring socks, girl!
Well, until next week!
~Sabre