After washing up Max, wandered through the massive house. On the other side of what might be called the living room stood a grandfather clock. Squinting, she took a better look. As she neared it, she could see that there was nothing behind the glass casing, pulling it open, her breath caught.
"The entrance to the cave," she whispered to herself, a mischievous smile lighting her face as she proceeded.
"So this is the cave, huh?" Max slowly made her way down the curving stairs carved into the stones, taking in every aspect of the batcave - the high ceiling covered with stalactites, the vast darkness beyond the lit work area, the glass casings that held all the costumes, her eyes bulged at the huge computer and vidscreen, then settled quickly as Bruce aimed an evil glare in her direction.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yeah, actually," Max moved to stand beside the older man, confusion written on her face. "Terry told you about my brief encounter with Curare?" The silver head nodded once in response. "The woman tonight, she wasn't the same. Curare wasn't scared of me, she attacked me; this woman bolted." Bruce was regarding her, listening to her. Terry believed in her, asked for her help often, that warranted her some leeway.
"Can you be more specific?" Bruce swung back to the console.
"I don't know, it all happened so fast, and I was a tad more concerned about distracting her." When she looked at the large computer screen again, there were two pictures in the process of being compared. Both clearly came from the suit's visor, and they *were* two different women. The fighting styles were different, as were the outfits, but marginally so. "I'm right, aren't I?" Her voice reflected her awe.
"I believe so."
"Can you find out...?" The computer beeped at them, displaying a picture of a woman strikingly similar to the previous Society of Assassins representative. "Woorari?"
"Curare's sister." Bruce spoke the information aloud as he quickly scanned the read out. "Member of the Society of Assassins, not as capable as Curare."
"Why would she be after Batman?"
"This is a very elite society. If a member fails in their assignment, they are swiftly dealt with."
"They kill their own?" Max practically squeaked.
"Failure is unacceptable."
"Geez, so this is revenge?"
"Most likely. Which means Terry is still a target."
"You wouldn't...?" Bruce fired her a look that made her cringe. "So what now?"
"You go home."
"But..." The swift look stopped her mid argument. "Yeah, I guess he's going to be out of it for a bit." Max moved to the stairs, already planning to spend most of the night doing research. "I'll find my own way out." Max mumbled, Bruce hadn't moved from his position in front of his computer.
Dana was anxiously pacing the foyer. Feelings of anger and betrayal warring inside her. Why hadn't he told her? Did he not trust her? Was their relationship worth so little? It all fell into place in her mind. Why he was gone all the time, why he was consistently hurt. She had spoken to his worried mother a number of times. Neither of them believed that Mr. Wayne would cover for Terry if he was involved with his old friends, but they couldn't come up with another sensible reason for Terry's injuries, for his tardiness. She wasn't sure what was worse; believing he was on the streets again, or knowing what he was really doing.
In a way, her love for him grew. Her boyfriend is Gotham's hero; a bloated sense of pride sparked inside her.
Maybe this wasn't all that bad. But could she live with it? Could she handle knowing he was out there, night after night?
"You ready?" Dana jumped as Max rounded the corner.
"Yeah," Dana dumbly followed her out to the car. Reaching for the door handle, she noticed the dried blood. Terry's blood. "How do you do it, Max?"
"Do what?" Max was also trying to avoid the smears on the steering wheel.
"You know what he does, I know you care about him - so - how do you deal...?"
"With knowing he gets his backside throttled on a regular basis?" Dana nodded, watching her friend carefully. "You need to see him on a good night. When you two are doing okay, and he's accomplished something." Dana's expression changed. "He's... I'm not sure how to describe it. He's so happy, so proud of what he can do. He knows he's helping, whether anyone else knows or cares doesn't matter. It's worth it to him. The mugging he stops, the girl he saves from a group of overly friendly Jokerz... those are the mornings that he's full of energy. Watch him, now that you know, they are not so subtle moods either."
Jealousy boiled inside Dana. Keeping her mouth shut, knowing her emotions were too out of control, she leaned on the doorsill. Had she been so absorbed in blaming Terry, thinking the worst of him, that she didn't notice the little details anymore? Chelsea was the one who pointed out his changes, Max discovered his secret - where did that leave her? Obviously not *in* his life. Maybe it was over. Tears pricked her eyes at the thought. Maybe it had been over a long time, but they were both too stubborn to see it.
Bruce quietly entered to room after the girls had left. The teen was still receiving the transfusions. How many times had he walked into a room like this? Far too many, he chastised himself.
It had only been a few hours ago that they had carried Terry inside. There hadn't been time to think. What was left of the suit was stripped off quickly to allow the wounds to be treated, stitched and the IV line attached. Terry hadn't moved throughout the entire procedure. To see him stirring now was a great relief.
The blue eyes opened in the moonlit room, blinking numerous times before focusing. "I take it this means I made it?" Terry asked after catching sight of the silhouette.
"You made it," Bruce confirmed. Terry nodded weakly, his expression showing his discomfort despite the painkillers and anesthetic.
"Where is everyone?" Becoming more alert, Terry slowly looked around what had become his room at the estate.
"They've gone." Bruce turned to leave, to allow Terry to rest. "Do you believe in fate?" The old man almost carelessly threw over his shoulder, almost as an after thought.
"I believe in serendipity." Terry answered easily. A slow, smile spread across Bruce's face. "You'll hurt yourself doing that." Even in his doped up state, the rare smile caught Terry off guard.
"You're not like the others." Terry just looked at Bruce's back as he moved towards the door. "Dick, Tim, Barbara; you have something they never did."
"Must be my tainted past."
Bruce turned from his exit to face the bedridden teen. "Don't sell yourself short. You always had a spark, I just gave you an outlet."
"One I appreciate."
"As do I." Terry didn't get a chance to respond.
The sunlight was streaming in through the windows that lined the right side of the room. Taking a deep breath, Terry winced, hissing in pain. The events of the night came rushing back to him. Sitting up slightly, being very careful how he moved, he looked down at the bandage taped to his skin. Peeling it back slightly, the raw skin and angry stitches caused him to wince again. Replacing the corner of the bandage, he noticed the small cotton ball taped to the top of his wrist. The memory of the warmth gathering inside the suit caused him to shudder painfully. He remembered Max and Dana helping him, Barbara driving the batmobile, and his short conversation with Bruce the night before.
The thought of Dana caused a constricting pain inside him. Why was his luck always so rotten? Or maybe it was serendipity.
Slowly moving to the edge of the bed, he had to get up, if only for a short time. Since becoming Batman, his body didn't allow him to sit still for lengthy periods of time.
"What are you doing out of bed?"
"Feeling antsy as hell." Bruce smirked as Terry gingerly slid to sit on the work table beside the batcomputer. "So is there any news on Curare?"
Bruce took a silent deep breath, knowing Terry deserved the truth. "As a matter of fact, Max and I have been looking into her."
"You've been working with Max?" Terry asked incredulously.
"She had some pertinent information."
"Like..?"
"Like that wasn't Curare who attacked you."
"Then who was it that introduced her sword to my gut?"
"Her sister; or so I believe." He gave the teen a moment to absorb that piece of information.
"So she watched me, then planned an elaborate attack - If I remember correctly, not completing a mission was as good as a death sentence for her."
"Correct."
"Then, we assume that the Society of Assassins killed Curare, and now her sister wants my skin in return?"
"Yes."
"Have you been able to track her?"
"No, she disappeared right after Max interrupted her."
"Have you seen Max?"
"Not since your condition was stabilized. Why?"
"I need to thank her."
Bruce nodded slowly. "Have you spoken to Dana?"
"Briefly. I was still kinda out of it at the time." Terry attempted a deep breath, wincing in the process. "So, how mad are you?"
Bruce swung his chair from the console. "And why would you think that?"
"Not only did I get my ass handed to me, I ripped the suit in at least two places, Commissioner Gordon had to come to my rescue - not exactly the way to keep things quiet - AND Dana found out."
"Need I remind you that you handed well over one hundred and fifty Jokerz their collective asses? On a busy street, I might add."
"Was anyone..?"
"Injured? Jokerz yes, bystanders, not a one." Terry's eyebrows rose. "The plan was to draw you out and tire you." He glanced up with a fleeting expression of pride. "I'd take it as a compliment if I were you."
"I must be sick, I could have sworn that was a compliment."
"One of very few."
"So where do we go from here?"
"You heal."
Terry just looked at his boss. "It's never that simple, Bruce."
"I'm well aware of that. But until you can battle unhindered, you are not donning the suit."
"At this point, I agree with you."
"Terry," Bruce spoke as the teen made to stand. "We have all been that close before."
"How did you deal with it?" Terry settled back, hands on either side of his hips, supporting himself as he kicked at an errant pebble on the cavern floor.
"Alfred always knew the appropriate thing to say at times like this. Unfortunately, I was never graced with that particular skill." Terry let out an amused sound at Bruce's confession. "I was always more concerned with the possibility of facing evil in reality. It was easier to face them in the reality I had created." Pride rose inside Bruce as Terry's expression led him to believe the young Batman understood the cryptic message. "You must decide what is important to you. What ideals you wish to live by. You've seen both sides now, the darkest venues." There was a fire in Terry's blue eyes. One Bruce had grown to appreciate. He imagined that Alfred had witnessed the same fire on many occasions. "There is no hurry in making your decision. The decision may be made for you the first night Batman returns to Gotham."
"You mean if I chicken out the first night back."
"It may not happen the first night, it may not happen for months."
"But the first time my hide is in a serious sling..."
"You may freeze."
"Is there anyway to know - for sure?" Terry asked hesitantly, unwilling to believe that there might be something that could force him out of the batsuit.
Bruce studied Terry. Not only was he out of bed, but he had cleaned up before coming down. He had immense pride in himself - as much as Bruce hated to admit it, it was what had weakened him to the teen in the first place. That dogged determination. The original maliciousness that had coincided with Terry stealing the suit, had turned into an affection he had not felt since Alfred had passed away. Only the other night, as he watched Terry go down, with no way to help him, did he find himself regretting allowing Terry's continued pursuit as Batman. Dick, Tim and Barbara had him, and each other. Terry was alone. Without Max's intervention, Terry would have been killed.
"If you're asking me that, I don't believe you have anything to be worried about." Terry glanced at him questioningly. "I think you know your own mind better than that."
"I guess I can be pretty single minded."
"Impetuous is more like it." There was no malice in Bruce's voice.
Terry smiled, "I'm gonna go back and lie down."
"Good idea."
"Hello?" Max's voice echoed inside the cave before Terry had a chance to move. She paused as she noticed Terry, in grey jogging pants and white T-shirt, sitting on the table beside the older man. The worry that had been nagging at her all night evaporated. Jogging down the last of the stairs, she quickly crossed the smooth rock floor.
Dropping her bag on the floor, she wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to be gentle, needing the reassurance of being held by him.
Closing his eyes, he held on as tightly as he dared, cherishing the warm hug.
"You okay?" leaning back slightly, she keept her hands on his shoulders. He looked good, all things considered. A little pale, slumped instead of sitting proud, but his eyes were bright and clear.
He nodded, "yeah." He didn't want to break contact with her either. He hadn't allowed himself to feel the fear, but it was in her eyes as she looked at him.
"Aren't you supposed to be resting?"
"This is resting, Max."
"Do you have anything?" Bruce asked, interrupting them, wanting to get Terry back upstairs before he exerted himself too much.
"Nothing," Max sighed. "I've been at it all night and nothing more than what you found."
"They are trained to remain anonymous. We probably won't hear from her again until Batman returns to duty."
"Another pleasant thought." Terry griped as he shifted gently, still trying to find the positions that didn't pull at his stitches.
"You need to get back upstairs." Bruce directed at Terry.
His energy was waning. Nodding he slipped off the edge. "You'll let me know if you come up with anything?"
"Of course." Was the dismissive answer.
With his foot on the first stair, Terry looked back. "Max," she looked up from picking up her bag. "Thanks. I don't think I've said that yet."
"You're welcome," she straightened. "Just don't make that a habit, McGinnis."
He snickered, supporting himself on the wall, "it's not on my list of fun things to do." Climbing the rest of the stairs, he left Max to let herself out, and Bruce to continue his research.
"The entrance to the cave," she whispered to herself, a mischievous smile lighting her face as she proceeded.
"So this is the cave, huh?" Max slowly made her way down the curving stairs carved into the stones, taking in every aspect of the batcave - the high ceiling covered with stalactites, the vast darkness beyond the lit work area, the glass casings that held all the costumes, her eyes bulged at the huge computer and vidscreen, then settled quickly as Bruce aimed an evil glare in her direction.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yeah, actually," Max moved to stand beside the older man, confusion written on her face. "Terry told you about my brief encounter with Curare?" The silver head nodded once in response. "The woman tonight, she wasn't the same. Curare wasn't scared of me, she attacked me; this woman bolted." Bruce was regarding her, listening to her. Terry believed in her, asked for her help often, that warranted her some leeway.
"Can you be more specific?" Bruce swung back to the console.
"I don't know, it all happened so fast, and I was a tad more concerned about distracting her." When she looked at the large computer screen again, there were two pictures in the process of being compared. Both clearly came from the suit's visor, and they *were* two different women. The fighting styles were different, as were the outfits, but marginally so. "I'm right, aren't I?" Her voice reflected her awe.
"I believe so."
"Can you find out...?" The computer beeped at them, displaying a picture of a woman strikingly similar to the previous Society of Assassins representative. "Woorari?"
"Curare's sister." Bruce spoke the information aloud as he quickly scanned the read out. "Member of the Society of Assassins, not as capable as Curare."
"Why would she be after Batman?"
"This is a very elite society. If a member fails in their assignment, they are swiftly dealt with."
"They kill their own?" Max practically squeaked.
"Failure is unacceptable."
"Geez, so this is revenge?"
"Most likely. Which means Terry is still a target."
"You wouldn't...?" Bruce fired her a look that made her cringe. "So what now?"
"You go home."
"But..." The swift look stopped her mid argument. "Yeah, I guess he's going to be out of it for a bit." Max moved to the stairs, already planning to spend most of the night doing research. "I'll find my own way out." Max mumbled, Bruce hadn't moved from his position in front of his computer.
Dana was anxiously pacing the foyer. Feelings of anger and betrayal warring inside her. Why hadn't he told her? Did he not trust her? Was their relationship worth so little? It all fell into place in her mind. Why he was gone all the time, why he was consistently hurt. She had spoken to his worried mother a number of times. Neither of them believed that Mr. Wayne would cover for Terry if he was involved with his old friends, but they couldn't come up with another sensible reason for Terry's injuries, for his tardiness. She wasn't sure what was worse; believing he was on the streets again, or knowing what he was really doing.
In a way, her love for him grew. Her boyfriend is Gotham's hero; a bloated sense of pride sparked inside her.
Maybe this wasn't all that bad. But could she live with it? Could she handle knowing he was out there, night after night?
"You ready?" Dana jumped as Max rounded the corner.
"Yeah," Dana dumbly followed her out to the car. Reaching for the door handle, she noticed the dried blood. Terry's blood. "How do you do it, Max?"
"Do what?" Max was also trying to avoid the smears on the steering wheel.
"You know what he does, I know you care about him - so - how do you deal...?"
"With knowing he gets his backside throttled on a regular basis?" Dana nodded, watching her friend carefully. "You need to see him on a good night. When you two are doing okay, and he's accomplished something." Dana's expression changed. "He's... I'm not sure how to describe it. He's so happy, so proud of what he can do. He knows he's helping, whether anyone else knows or cares doesn't matter. It's worth it to him. The mugging he stops, the girl he saves from a group of overly friendly Jokerz... those are the mornings that he's full of energy. Watch him, now that you know, they are not so subtle moods either."
Jealousy boiled inside Dana. Keeping her mouth shut, knowing her emotions were too out of control, she leaned on the doorsill. Had she been so absorbed in blaming Terry, thinking the worst of him, that she didn't notice the little details anymore? Chelsea was the one who pointed out his changes, Max discovered his secret - where did that leave her? Obviously not *in* his life. Maybe it was over. Tears pricked her eyes at the thought. Maybe it had been over a long time, but they were both too stubborn to see it.
Bruce quietly entered to room after the girls had left. The teen was still receiving the transfusions. How many times had he walked into a room like this? Far too many, he chastised himself.
It had only been a few hours ago that they had carried Terry inside. There hadn't been time to think. What was left of the suit was stripped off quickly to allow the wounds to be treated, stitched and the IV line attached. Terry hadn't moved throughout the entire procedure. To see him stirring now was a great relief.
The blue eyes opened in the moonlit room, blinking numerous times before focusing. "I take it this means I made it?" Terry asked after catching sight of the silhouette.
"You made it," Bruce confirmed. Terry nodded weakly, his expression showing his discomfort despite the painkillers and anesthetic.
"Where is everyone?" Becoming more alert, Terry slowly looked around what had become his room at the estate.
"They've gone." Bruce turned to leave, to allow Terry to rest. "Do you believe in fate?" The old man almost carelessly threw over his shoulder, almost as an after thought.
"I believe in serendipity." Terry answered easily. A slow, smile spread across Bruce's face. "You'll hurt yourself doing that." Even in his doped up state, the rare smile caught Terry off guard.
"You're not like the others." Terry just looked at Bruce's back as he moved towards the door. "Dick, Tim, Barbara; you have something they never did."
"Must be my tainted past."
Bruce turned from his exit to face the bedridden teen. "Don't sell yourself short. You always had a spark, I just gave you an outlet."
"One I appreciate."
"As do I." Terry didn't get a chance to respond.
The sunlight was streaming in through the windows that lined the right side of the room. Taking a deep breath, Terry winced, hissing in pain. The events of the night came rushing back to him. Sitting up slightly, being very careful how he moved, he looked down at the bandage taped to his skin. Peeling it back slightly, the raw skin and angry stitches caused him to wince again. Replacing the corner of the bandage, he noticed the small cotton ball taped to the top of his wrist. The memory of the warmth gathering inside the suit caused him to shudder painfully. He remembered Max and Dana helping him, Barbara driving the batmobile, and his short conversation with Bruce the night before.
The thought of Dana caused a constricting pain inside him. Why was his luck always so rotten? Or maybe it was serendipity.
Slowly moving to the edge of the bed, he had to get up, if only for a short time. Since becoming Batman, his body didn't allow him to sit still for lengthy periods of time.
"What are you doing out of bed?"
"Feeling antsy as hell." Bruce smirked as Terry gingerly slid to sit on the work table beside the batcomputer. "So is there any news on Curare?"
Bruce took a silent deep breath, knowing Terry deserved the truth. "As a matter of fact, Max and I have been looking into her."
"You've been working with Max?" Terry asked incredulously.
"She had some pertinent information."
"Like..?"
"Like that wasn't Curare who attacked you."
"Then who was it that introduced her sword to my gut?"
"Her sister; or so I believe." He gave the teen a moment to absorb that piece of information.
"So she watched me, then planned an elaborate attack - If I remember correctly, not completing a mission was as good as a death sentence for her."
"Correct."
"Then, we assume that the Society of Assassins killed Curare, and now her sister wants my skin in return?"
"Yes."
"Have you been able to track her?"
"No, she disappeared right after Max interrupted her."
"Have you seen Max?"
"Not since your condition was stabilized. Why?"
"I need to thank her."
Bruce nodded slowly. "Have you spoken to Dana?"
"Briefly. I was still kinda out of it at the time." Terry attempted a deep breath, wincing in the process. "So, how mad are you?"
Bruce swung his chair from the console. "And why would you think that?"
"Not only did I get my ass handed to me, I ripped the suit in at least two places, Commissioner Gordon had to come to my rescue - not exactly the way to keep things quiet - AND Dana found out."
"Need I remind you that you handed well over one hundred and fifty Jokerz their collective asses? On a busy street, I might add."
"Was anyone..?"
"Injured? Jokerz yes, bystanders, not a one." Terry's eyebrows rose. "The plan was to draw you out and tire you." He glanced up with a fleeting expression of pride. "I'd take it as a compliment if I were you."
"I must be sick, I could have sworn that was a compliment."
"One of very few."
"So where do we go from here?"
"You heal."
Terry just looked at his boss. "It's never that simple, Bruce."
"I'm well aware of that. But until you can battle unhindered, you are not donning the suit."
"At this point, I agree with you."
"Terry," Bruce spoke as the teen made to stand. "We have all been that close before."
"How did you deal with it?" Terry settled back, hands on either side of his hips, supporting himself as he kicked at an errant pebble on the cavern floor.
"Alfred always knew the appropriate thing to say at times like this. Unfortunately, I was never graced with that particular skill." Terry let out an amused sound at Bruce's confession. "I was always more concerned with the possibility of facing evil in reality. It was easier to face them in the reality I had created." Pride rose inside Bruce as Terry's expression led him to believe the young Batman understood the cryptic message. "You must decide what is important to you. What ideals you wish to live by. You've seen both sides now, the darkest venues." There was a fire in Terry's blue eyes. One Bruce had grown to appreciate. He imagined that Alfred had witnessed the same fire on many occasions. "There is no hurry in making your decision. The decision may be made for you the first night Batman returns to Gotham."
"You mean if I chicken out the first night back."
"It may not happen the first night, it may not happen for months."
"But the first time my hide is in a serious sling..."
"You may freeze."
"Is there anyway to know - for sure?" Terry asked hesitantly, unwilling to believe that there might be something that could force him out of the batsuit.
Bruce studied Terry. Not only was he out of bed, but he had cleaned up before coming down. He had immense pride in himself - as much as Bruce hated to admit it, it was what had weakened him to the teen in the first place. That dogged determination. The original maliciousness that had coincided with Terry stealing the suit, had turned into an affection he had not felt since Alfred had passed away. Only the other night, as he watched Terry go down, with no way to help him, did he find himself regretting allowing Terry's continued pursuit as Batman. Dick, Tim and Barbara had him, and each other. Terry was alone. Without Max's intervention, Terry would have been killed.
"If you're asking me that, I don't believe you have anything to be worried about." Terry glanced at him questioningly. "I think you know your own mind better than that."
"I guess I can be pretty single minded."
"Impetuous is more like it." There was no malice in Bruce's voice.
Terry smiled, "I'm gonna go back and lie down."
"Good idea."
"Hello?" Max's voice echoed inside the cave before Terry had a chance to move. She paused as she noticed Terry, in grey jogging pants and white T-shirt, sitting on the table beside the older man. The worry that had been nagging at her all night evaporated. Jogging down the last of the stairs, she quickly crossed the smooth rock floor.
Dropping her bag on the floor, she wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to be gentle, needing the reassurance of being held by him.
Closing his eyes, he held on as tightly as he dared, cherishing the warm hug.
"You okay?" leaning back slightly, she keept her hands on his shoulders. He looked good, all things considered. A little pale, slumped instead of sitting proud, but his eyes were bright and clear.
He nodded, "yeah." He didn't want to break contact with her either. He hadn't allowed himself to feel the fear, but it was in her eyes as she looked at him.
"Aren't you supposed to be resting?"
"This is resting, Max."
"Do you have anything?" Bruce asked, interrupting them, wanting to get Terry back upstairs before he exerted himself too much.
"Nothing," Max sighed. "I've been at it all night and nothing more than what you found."
"They are trained to remain anonymous. We probably won't hear from her again until Batman returns to duty."
"Another pleasant thought." Terry griped as he shifted gently, still trying to find the positions that didn't pull at his stitches.
"You need to get back upstairs." Bruce directed at Terry.
His energy was waning. Nodding he slipped off the edge. "You'll let me know if you come up with anything?"
"Of course." Was the dismissive answer.
With his foot on the first stair, Terry looked back. "Max," she looked up from picking up her bag. "Thanks. I don't think I've said that yet."
"You're welcome," she straightened. "Just don't make that a habit, McGinnis."
He snickered, supporting himself on the wall, "it's not on my list of fun things to do." Climbing the rest of the stairs, he left Max to let herself out, and Bruce to continue his research.
