RESURGENCE

by Calico

A young woman discovers Terry and Bruce’s secret but *gasp* she doesn’t want to be another crime fighter. She wants something else entirely.

4. CHAPTER 4

            "Terry, have you heard from Kendra recently?"  Bruce Wayne asked his young protégé, as he was getting ready for his nightly patrol.

            "Ah, no, not in a few days.  She's been studying for exams, why?"

            "I've been trying to reach her house for the last three hours and there's been no answer."

            "Why are you trying to call her?"

            "To thank her for accompanying me to the dedication this morning."

            "I thought you weren't going to that?"

            "I changed my mind."

            "Why would she go with you at all?  I'm the one who works for you."

            "In case you haven't noticed you are in danger of failing several of your classes.  It was unnecessary to call you away from school."

            Shaking his head instead of arguing the point further, Terry asked, "Why are you even concerned?  The family probably went out to eat or something."

            "I've been checking on Phillip Baker.  The man has been gambling excessively in the past six months, piling up exorbitant debts.  About half an hour ago there was a call into the police complaining about a noise disturbance originating from her neighborhood."

            "You think someone's trying to collect on those debts."

            "It's possible."

            "So I should…?"

            "Now."

            "On it."  He leaped into the Batmobile and shot out of the cavern.  He raced across town, dropping out of the car and gliding to a silent stop in front of the Baker household.  Lights blazed throughout and a peek in the window showed furniture overturned and papers flung everywhere.  The front door stood open.  Batman walked in scanning the area.  "Do you see all this Wayne?"

            *Yes.  Look around for clues.*

            He went up the stairs first looking quickly into each of the rooms.  All seemed untouched.  At the door to a room covered with posters of Superman, Micron, and of course Batman, he paused.  The miniature furniture and immature decorations identified it as the room of a young boy.  Batman stepped in curiously.  He put a finger to his cowl and adjusted the volume amplification.  There, he heard it.  A sniffling, choking sob.  Dropping to all fours he crawled towards the bed and moved aside the covers.  Underneath he found Samuel Baker curled around a stuffed bear, tears streaming down his face.  As soon as he saw Batman he cried out in fear.  "It's ok, I'm a good guy," he called softly, trying to coax the child out.

            Sam blinked.  "Ba-batman?" he said softly.

            "That's right kiddo.  Why don't you come on out here so I can help you?"  The little boy wiggled forward until Batman could reach him and pull him out.  Setting him down on the bed, he knelt before him.  "Can you tell me what happened?"

            The boy hitched a breath.  "They were yelling at Dad.  I was up here playing with my toys and I heard them.  Then they started throwing things and I heard Mom crying.  That's when I crawled under my bed, cause I was scared."

            Batman nodded.  "It sounds very scary.  Do you know who they were?"

            "Some men.  I've seen them before.  They came to talk to Dad in his office."

            "Was your sister here?"

            "Uhuh.  I heard her yelling at them.  She sounded really mad, even madder than when I read her diary."  He paused for a moment sucking on his lower lip.  "I think they hit her.  Then they all left."

            "Do you know where?"  Sam shook his head.  "Ok buddy, I'm going to take you somewhere, but first I have to have a look downstairs.  You up for a little detective work?"

            The boy's head bobbed up and down.  "Sure!"

            Batman took his hand and led him downstairs.  He saw that the damage was mostly centered in the study and started his search there.  Sam dutifully looked around the room.  Into his com Batman said, "Wayne, could you look into Baker's recent business dealings?"

            *Already working on it.  It looks like Phillip Baker has been using his investment firm as a cover for money laundering.  I suspect he's been financing his gambling by skimming off the top.  Looks like a long losing streak has put him in a tight spot.*

            "Kendra must have known something was up, she was always so tightlipped about him.  Who are his most recent clients?"

            *Officially, a corporation called East Coast Holdings.  It's a dummy company owned by a known European drug trafficker, Alfonse Rinaldi.  No local whereabouts known.*

            "Hey Batman!" the boy called.  He turned to the child and saw he held something out to him.  "I found this.  Is it a clue?  Mom and Dad don't smoke." 

            Batman took the offered item.  It was a book of matches from the Gotham Arms Hotel.  Smiling he said, "Yes Sam, this is definitely a clue.  Now we're going for a ride."

            He took him to the only place he could think of, his own home.

            They stood at the door after ringing the buzzer.  "Yes?" Mary McGinnis asked when she opened the door.

            "Mrs. McGinnis, this is Sam Baker, a friend of your son Matt.  His family is in the middle of a crisis and I was hoping you could look after him for a while."

            Before she could answer a cry came from within.  "Hey Sam!"  Matt McGinnis ran up to the door.  "Batman!  Shway!  Do you remember me?  You saved me from the Stalker."

            "Matty calm down.  Of course we'll look after him."

            Batman thanked her and quickly made his way back to the awaiting Batmobile.  At the Arms he disembarked and flew on his own power towards the building.  "Got a room number for me yet?"

            *Twenty-fifth floor, suite 2512.  Windows should be on the east side.*

            Batman flew around and landed on the ledge outside the rooms in question.  There were two windows.  The first was to a bedroom where he saw Kendra and Mrs. Baker tied to chairs and guarded by two thugs.  In the next he saw the living area of the suite.  He had never met Phillip Baker before, but the reddish blonde hair in a sea of Mediterranean ancestry was a dead giveaway.  Baker was talking to a man in a white suit, three other men standing around, obviously armed.  Putting his fingertip mike to the glass, Batman was able to eavesdrop on the conversation.

            "…not playing around anymore Phil.  The time has come to find out where your true loyalties lie.  You've got two lovely ladies in there counting on you.  I suggest you not let them down."

            Shaking his head, Baker replied, "No Mr. Rinaldi, I wouldn't do that.  I'll get your money.  Just give me an hour."

            The other man nodded sagely.  "To show you my trust Phil, I'm going to let you go alone.  But if you come back empty-handed…Let's just say it'll make what we did to your daughter look like a Sunday picnic."   Baker rushed out the door without a backward glance.

            *Follow him Terry.  Don't let him out of your sight.*

            Soundlessly he vaulted off of the ledge and soared after him.  Baker hailed a cab and Batman trailed it to the airport.  He watched him go inside to the ticket counter and then head to a gate.  "He's taking off!"  He flew past and landed in front of him.  "You're just going to leave them!"

            "Batman?  What are you doing here?"

            "Trying to help your family, what are you doing?"

            Baker's eyes shifted in his head.  "Listen, there is no money.  It's long gone.  If I go back they'll kill Viv and Kendra just to punish me.  If I disappear, they'll have to let them go.  It's really for the best."  He pushed past the Bat and ran down the corridor to catch his plane.

            *Let the coward go.  Get back and save them yourself.*

            Shaking his head in disgust at the fleeing man, he flew out back towards the hotel.  Entering from the back and going up the service elevator, Batman engaged his stealth mode, pushed a commandeered service cart to the door, and knocked.

            Inside one of the thugs called out, "Who is it?"

            "Room service."

            The thug looked out the spy hole and saw nothing but the cart.  He shrugged and opened the door and was met by an invisible fist.  The remaining men immediately drew their weapons.  Several batarangs were launched knocking them to the ground.  Batman leapt in and started punching and kicking.  In moments the four were tied together in a circle on the floor.

            "Boss?" called a voice from the next room.  Batman stood next to the closed door waiting until it opened and a head popped out.  He grabbed the man and rammed his knee into his face.  He immediately fell to the ground with a thud.  Stepping over the body he entered the room and faced the last man.  A gun was pointed at Kendra's head.

            "Drop it!" Batman said in his most fierce voice.

            "I'll slag her Bat.  Get out of my way."

            "Let me put it another way, she dies you die.  You put the gun down now and you actually get to live.  After twenty or so years in prison, you'll be able to do anything you like.  Deal?"  After a few seconds of debate, the gun fell and the man raised his hands over his head.  After he was secured in the living room with the others, Batman returned to the bedroom and untied Mrs. Baker.

            "Thank you so much," she said getting out of the chair.  "We've been like this for hours."

            He turned to Kendra.  "You look like hell," he said involuntarily after witnessing the bruising and cuts on her face.

            "Well that's better than how I feel," she replied dryly.

            "What happened?" he asked as he untied her bonds.

            "Oh it was her mouth as usual," Vivian replied on her behalf.  "I've told her she'll get into trouble one of these days.  She just kept provoking them until they finally, oh God!"  She put her hand to her mouth before she could continue.  "They beat her, and kicked her and, oh it was awful!  She tried to fight back, but there were too many."

            Smiling indulgently at Batman Kendra said, "She tends to over exaggerate things."  With a more serious face she reached up and grabbed his arm, pulling him down so she could whisper into his ear, "Terry I can't feel my legs."

            "What?  What did she say?" her mother asked desperately.

            "Mom, I was just telling him how sexy he looks in that tight costume."

            "Kendra!"

            Sensing her need to not upset her mother anymore than necessary, Batman walked over to the woman.  "The police will be on their way.  Can you meet them outside and explain everything that's happened?"

            "Of course."  She took one last look at her daughter and left the room.  Batman closed the door.

            "My dad's gone isn't he?"

            He walked over to her.  "Yes.  We need to get you an ambulance."

            She shook her head.  "Please take me."

            "You could have a spinal injury.  You need to be secured."

            "Please." 

            Ignoring his own good sense and Wayne's protesting voice in his ear, he picked her up, gently pausing when she gave a cry of pain.  When she was settled in his arms he went to the window, opened it, and leapt out.  "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked as they floated above the city.

            "That my father is a no good criminal who would sell out his own family for a few creds?  What good would it have done?"

            "It might have saved you from getting hurt."

            She shook her head briefly.  "You can't hide from fate Terry; it hits you like a train when you least expect it.  I'm just sorry for Sammy.  He adores the man.  He's too young to learn how terrible people can be." 

            "Have you seen my friend Kendra?  You can't miss her, she's always smiling, upbeat."

            "It's just a mask, like the one you wear.  It hides the truth."

            "I don't believe that."

            "Why not?"

            "Because you may be able to fool me, but someone else isn't so gullible."

            "You mean…?"

            "Oh yeah.  You've done something to the old man Kendra and it wasn't because of any act."  He landed softly outside the emergency room, ironically in the same hospital where she'd spent most of her day.   He stepped inside and called out, "I need a gurney.  She's hurt and may have a back injury."  The doctors and nurses came immediately and he gently laid her down on a wheeled bed.

            He tried to let her go and she grabbed his hand.  "Thank you."  He squeezed her hand and then left her to the doctors.

            "How is she doing?" Terry asked walking up to Wayne as he perused the confidential hospital file.

            "They've admitted her.  Looks like some bruising and swelling around the spinal cord is causing the paralysis.  The doctors don't believe it will be permanent, but only time will tell."

            The following morning Wayne drove himself to the hospital and walked up to the information desk.  The attendant looked up with a smile, "Hello.  May I help you?"

            "I'm here to see Kendra Baker."

            "Well let's see."  She entered a few keystrokes into her computer terminal.  "Ah, room 316, the private suite, however she's not allowed any non-family visitors.  Are you family?"

            "Not really."

            "Then I'm afraid you'll have to wait.  But I can tell you that the doctor's have introduced neurobots to her system to accelerate the healing process.  She seems to be responding well to the treatment.  The doctors are very optimistic."  She smiled to indicate that was all he was going to get.

            Wayne did not bother to tell her he was familiar with the course of treatment so far, or even that he was already aware of the room she was in, especially since he was the one who arranged to have her installed in it, the finest in the hospital.  What he did now was smile his most charming smile.  "Perhaps I didn't introduce myself.  Bruce Wayne."

            "Oh, as in…?"

            "Exactly.  Now, Ms. Baker is a very good friend of mine and I would consider it a personal favor if I was allowed to visit with her."

            "Let me just call the floor nurse."  She picked up the phone and had a brief muted conversation.  After hanging up she turned back to him.  "Well Kendra is sleeping right now; apparently she had a very troubled night."

            "I promise not to wake her."

            The receptionist nodded.  "Very well, you can go up, but remember to be quiet."

            "Thank you."  He turned to walk towards the bank of elevators.  On his right he looked into the gift shop.  Balloons, plants, knick-knacks festooned the place.  One item in particular caught his eye and he made a brief detour before ascending to the third floor.  He walked past the duty nurse station and nodded his greeting.  The helpful nurse pointed him to the right room.  Pausing outside the door to 316, Wayne took a moment to steady himself.  Terry had said her injuries were troubling.  The room was dark with only slices of daylight coming from the drawn drapes.   He quietly made his way to the bedside and looked down on her.  The shadows could not hide the ever-darkening bruises on her face or the splint across her broken nose.

            "Are you going to just stand there staring at me all day?  People might start to talk."

            "I thought you were sleeping."

            "That's what I want them to think.  If I didn't go to sleep on my own they were going to drug me.  So I just lie here, like I'm dead."

            "Why don't you want to sleep?"

            "Because I'll dream about it.  Don't you think once is enough?"

            "You need your rest."

            "I need to walk again."

            "The prognosis is very good.  The doctor's are saying…"

            "The doctor's don't know shit."  She turned her head to look at him directly.  "Is that for me or are you regressing?"

            He looked down at the small item in his hand.  "Flowers die quickly and balloons seemed too impractical."  He handed her the stuffed bear and she accepted.

            "He's great.  I think I'll name him Bruce.  You'll protect me now won't you Bruce?" she asked bringing the furry toy up to her face and tapping it on the nose with her finger. 

            "Kendra…"

            "It doesn't matter.  None of it matters.  My father lost everything.  Money's all gone.  The house and cars will be repossessed.  I'll have to leave school," she sighed.

            "No.  I've made arrangements with the bank for taking care of the house.  And you are eligible for a scholarship through the Wayne Foundation, in veterinary medicine, if that's what you want."

            She looked sharply at him.  "Is that the I-know-Bruce-Wayne scholarship?  I don't need your charity."  Her voice was stiff, her eyes wide with emotion.  She swallowed hard and he saw a tear escape her eye.

            "You're tired.  Try to get some sleep."  He turned to walk away.

            "Bruce."  The word was so soft he thought for a moment his hearing was playing tricks on him.

            He turned and made his way to the bed.  Her hand reached out and he took it.  "They hurt me," she whispered, tears coming full force now.  He pulled up a chair and sat next to her.  Holding her hand in one of his, he used the other to gingerly brush the hair back from her face.  "I know what you're thinking," she said stronger this time.  "It's all my fault.  I wouldn't shut up.  I thought I could take care of my mom.  I thought I could take care of myself.  I'm just too stupid to know when to quit.  It's all my fault."  The words were replaced by low sobs.

            "It is not your fault.  None of this is your fault."  He continued comforting her until she finally drifted off to sleep.

            He stayed with her like that for almost an hour.  Her tears dried on her face and her breathing was raspy, but she showed no signs of the demon dreams she'd feared.  Eventually a nurse came in, silent in her crepe-soled shoes.

            "Sir?" she whispered.

            "She's asleep."

            "Yes, and we'd like it to stay that way," she replied gently.

            He removed his hand from her head and tried to disentangle the other from her grip, but she stirred and cried out softly until he settled back down.  The nurse pursed her lips together as he said, "I think I'll stay a while longer."  Wordlessly she turned and left the room.

            He looked down upon her in uncertainty.  He could not quite place the need to stay with her, nor the root of the hatred he had for the men who'd caused this to happen, her father topping the list.  In reading her medical file he had come upon a veiled reference by a very thorough resident who had meticulously inventoried every injury to several contusions in rather intimate places.  He refused to let his imagination run wild, but his anger burned deeply.  He had very serious intentions of tracking down Phillip Baker and teaching him the true meaning of fear.

            He touched her hair that looked to him like a golden sunset and tried to convince himself that it was a paternal affection.  But he didn't think it was very paternal to enjoy the softness of her hair or to want to trace his fingers down her cheek.  He closed his eyes fiercely remembering back to all the women in his past, those he'd simply romanced and those he'd loved.  The latter group was filled with incredible women, beautiful, brilliant, defiant.  Some he'd even wanted to marry.  But it was never meant to be, not with any of them, and more often than not it was the Bat that had interfered.

            That had been so many years ago.  He'd retired the playboy long before he'd retired the Batman.  And then he finally understood.  After he'd hung up the suit for the last time, feeling bitter at time and his own traitorous body, he'd been a shell, simply waiting for the end to come.  Then a young man who dared take the suit on himself had reawakened the Dark Knight, allowing him the opportunity to train and live again through him, at least partially.

            He looked across the room to the mirror above the bureau.  A dark-haired face with a boyish grin looked out at him.  How've you been Bruce? he thought.

            I've been dead, Old Man, the face responded.  Dead and buried right where you left me.

            She'd resurrected him, that dead playboy, his other half.  This girl possessing the wisdom of sages wrapped in the naiveté of a child, who was warm as July sunshine yet sharp like January wind, she'd come down into his sanctuary and insisted he wasn't dead yet, that he didn't have to be alone.  When he'd taken her into his arms and danced with her it had been Bruce Wayne, and when he watched her entertaining the children, her smile as healing as any medicine, it had been Bruce Wayne's heart that had warmed.

            Why couldn't she have come into his life even twenty-five years earlier?  He shook his head in annoyance.  Even a quarter of a century ago he'd have been twice her age.  He'd been old when she was born, now he was ancient.

            The face in the mirror called out to him.  Time's run out for you Old Man.  Batman is justice, Batman is vengeance, but Batman is not happiness.

            "Don't you think I know that," he growled back.  Go back to being dead.  I don't need you anymore.

            You may not, but she does.

            She woke up slowly, head pounding.  Blinking she saw that the room was gray but the curtains glowed with late afternoon sunshine.  She had had the strangest dream that two men, one old one young, had been arguing next to her bed.  Well at least it wasn't about last night, she thought relieved.  Her hand moved along the blanket and she felt a soft, furry object.  She grabbed it and raised it up to get a closer look, a small, brown, stuffed bear.   "Oh no," she groaned, bringing her hand to her face in an unconscious gesture of guilt.  The pain from her broken nose was intense and her groan turned to a soft cry.

            She dropped the hand and looked at the bear.  He had been here to see her in the early morning hours and she'd been terrible to him.  He had taken her venom without rebuke and even comforted her during her breakdown.  He must think I'm such a child, she thought angrily.  Then she looked crossly at the bear.  "Why do I care what he thinks about me?" she asked the toy.  Glass eyes looked back at her giving no opinion on the subject.

            She shook her head, slowly to avoid the shooting pain it involved.  He was just a pet-project, a diversion from the growing tension and strange midnight visitors at her home.  Of course he'd also been a convenient way to stay close to Terry McGinnis.  Oh well, she thought only semi-bitterly.  Nothing's going to come of that anyway.  He and Dana are stuck together like glue.  Surprisingly the thought did not make her feel that bad.  Even as Terry (Batman, she admonished herself.  He's Batman when in costume.) carried her to the hospital, she hadn't felt the same attraction.  Not that last night was conducive to romance.

            That thought took her to places she desperately didn't want to go.  She shuddered and was greeted by the cry of muscles grown sore in the twenty-four hours since her ordeal.  She looked around the room.  It was filled with oak furniture, expensive wallpaper, and plush low carpet.  It must be the penthouse of hospital rooms.  She hadn't exactly been able to appreciate it when they brought her in.  They'd poked and prodded her, examined and x-rayed, drew her blood and asked endless questions.  "Does this hurt?" they'd asked.  She'd wanted to scream, "Hell yes that hurts!  Just assume everything hurts!"  (But that wasn't technically true.  The pain ended at her waist.)  Then they had brought her here agitated, in shock, and half crazy, and she'd overheard the doctor say that if she didn't fall asleep they'd have to sedate her, so she spent the remaining hours playing dead.

            He'd arranged for her to be in this room, that much was clear.  She couldn't begin to understand why or why he'd even come to see her this morning.  But she remembered the way he'd held her hand and stroked her hair so…fatherly?  No, that didn't seem to be the right word.  Lovingly seemed a little more appropriate.  She thought about dancing with him and how she'd become momentarily self-conscious, blushing at every word.  She'd felt something different then, felt him looking at her differently.

            The bear was still in her hand.  "I think they literally beat me senseless."  No comment from her ursine friend.  "He's just a grumpy old man." 

            At that moment the door opened and two blonde heads looked in.  "Hi Mom," she said.  "How're you doing Sammy?  Why don't you come in a sit a while?"

            Time passed.  Within two weeks the bruises did indeed fade and Kendra regained some feeling in her lower extremities.  She was able to stand for a few moments at a time with the assistance of nurses.

            In Gotham penitentiary, Alfonse Rinaldi and his five accomplices were all severely beaten by various members of the convict community in seemingly random acts of violence.

            In the Caribbean, a man going by the name of John Algrove came back to his hotel room to find it completely destroyed with the words YOU CAN NEVER RUN FAR ENOUGH spray-painted on the walls, and a dozen bats flying peevishly about.

            Kendra received many visitors, including classmates who were heading back to their homes with the conclusion of the spring semester.  She also had a visit from Terry, Dana, and their friend Maxine.  There was a tension at first that was broken when Kendra sheepishly apologized for her previous conduct.  With a grin Dana admitted that she had not been on her best behavior either.

            "I was just afraid you were trying to steal my boyfriend," she explained.

            "I was."  Terry had the good sense to blush.  "But you don't have to worry about that now.  You guys are great together."  After that the afternoon was filled with chatter and laughter.  Kendra really liked the pink-haired Max and looked forward to a friendship with her.

            With extended and painful physical therapy sessions, she was taking steps with a walker by the end of the third week.  She'd not received a visit from Bruce Wayne since the first morning and was feeling vaguely depressed because of it.  Bruce the bear sat on her bedside table and silently reminded her she was being foolish.

            After a month the doctors declared her healed, except for a small sliver of bone that had lodged itself in her back.  It was not in a position to do any damage, but was extremely painful.  They explained that the surgery it would require to remove the bone would carry far more risks, so could she try and tolerate the pain?  She replied that they should try and tolerate a knife shoved in their backs.  In the end it was decided that she would wait six months given the possibility that the sliver may be removed by the body's own healing powers.  So she was discharged with a bottle of painkillers and a lovely wooden cane as consolation prizes.

            A nurse pushed her along the corridor and into the elevator, her belongings in a bag on her lap and the cane in her hand.  They descended to the lobby and Kendra was startled to see the group awaiting her.  Along with her mother and Sam, she saw Terry and his brother Matt, and standing next to them was Bruce.  She asked the nurse to stop before reaching the waiting area.  Gathering her bag in one hand, she stood and steadied herself for a moment before walking slowly but firmly across the tiled floor to them.  They were all smiling at her in the idiotic Isn't-That-the-Greatest-Thing way she discovered she hated; all of them except one.

            Looking him up and down she said, "Well don't we make a matching pair?" indicating their canes.

            "I'm sure yours is only temporary," was his reply.

            "Well when it all comes down to it, so is yours.  You won't need it after you're dead."

            "Kendra!" her mother called out shocked.

            Sammy looked up at his mother confused.  "But she's right Momma, isn't she?  I mean he's old, he'll die soon."

            She groaned at her second born, then looked at Wayne, "I'm sorry.  I thought I'd raised them better than that."

            With a raised eyebrow, he merely responded, "It just reminds me why I didn't have any of my own."

            "Hey," Terry said to Kendra.  "Are you up for a little welcome home party?  It's at the Manor.  It was all Bruce's idea."

            "I doubt that," she replied sardonically.  Then with a big smile she said, "Sure I feel great.  I'm always up for a party."  That wasn't exactly the truth, though.  The pain had been immediate upon standing, but she didn't want to be drugged up just yet.

            They all piled into the limousine and headed up to the Manor, arriving to find Dana, Max, and Mrs. McGinnis arranging food and beverages.  Balloons and soft music filled the air.  Ace even wore a party hat.  The revelry was underway, but contrary to her earlier words, Kendra was not quite up for it.  She slipped away, finding that secret door and making her way down to the cavernous headquarters of Gotham's masked vigilante.  Not having an opportunity previously, she now walked slowly around taking in the various souvenirs of a life less ordinary.  She paused in front of the glass case that held the original suit.  Leaning heavily on her cane she reached her other hand up and slid her fingertips down the cool glass.  It was difficult for her to imagine the man she knew as Bruce Wayne wearing it.

            "Don't even think about it," a gruff voice sounded behind her.  Although startled that he'd managed to sneak up on her, she did her best not to show it.

            "I'm not sure I'd be much use now even if I were thinking about it," she said without turning. 

            "What are you doing down here?" he asked in a much more gentle voice.

            "Just catching my breath.  You actually wore this thing?" she asked, turning to face him.

            "It was a long time ago."

            "That's what they say about leisure suits.  It's not an excuse."  She smirked at him.  He stared at her.  "Oh well."  She walked over to him.  "Listen, while I've got you here alone I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me and my family, but especially for being there for me, you know when I really needed someone."

            "It was nothing."

            "That's not true.  It must have been dreadful for you, dealing with all that human emotion after all."

            "I am familiar with the concept of human emotions."

            "Well I'm familiar with the concept of toxic waste, but it doesn't mean I want a load of it dumped in my lap.  Seriously, it meant a lot to me.  I don't know how I can ever repay you."

            "You're right.  Perhaps you could start by accompanying me to the charity opera event next week.  I've already purchased two tickets, but apparently Terry has violent allergic reactions to classical music.  I'd hate to see the other ticket go to waste."

            "Hmmm, opera you say?  Which one?"

            "Bizet's 'Carmen'."

            "Ah, Toreadors!  Magnifique!  I'd love to."

            "Good, now shall we go back upstairs before the whole party moves down here?"

            "You know, this would be a great place for a Halloween party."

            "No."

            "No rush, we've got five months to talk about it."

            "No we don't."

            "You have got to loosen up.  Race you upstairs."

The End.