In the Dark (Ch. 3)
I groaned. At least I think I did.
My head hurt. Well, everything hurt, but my head seemed to hurt more than anything else. I keep telling myself that I should open my eyes, figure out what's going on. I should open my eyes. But I can't. For whatever reason, I can't. There was still only darkness.
Someone was removing my mask, but I was too weak to fight it.
"Relax Terry. It's me."
I slumped back in relief when I recognized Wayne's voice.
"What happened?"
"Don't try too hard to think right now. Your head took a lot of trauma, you're probably feeling dizzy."
Dizzy didn't seem like the right word for it. Dizzy must be the little brother to what I'm feeling right now. I would have told him, but I couldn't quite get my thoughts together for the right statement.
He was bandaging my head. I could tell because I felt gausse wrapping around my forehead.
"McGinnis, that crash would have killed you if you hit the building at full speed strapped to the Batmobile's hood like that."
I hear a snipping sound. He must be cutting the bandages.
"Why didn't it?" I think I groaned again.
"I slowed it down."
"... you... but how?" Don't tell me Wayne has super Bat-powers or something now.
"Remember the last time I recalibrated the Batmobile's rotational hover gears? I wired in partner controls to the Batmobile from the cave."
"Oh... don't trust my driving anymore huh?"
Something stung the wound on my chest. He must be treating it with that herbal concoction again.
"Well, that was the week you crashed the Batmobile twice. Remember?"
"... 'Crash' is such an ugly word."
"Besides, they're only partner controls. The master controls override my commands." He paused, voice and actions, verbally and motionally. "That's why I couldn't..."
Why he couldn't help me sooner before I crashed. But he still saved me and managed to manuevered the Batmobile back to the Batcave. "Well, I should have been able to take care of myself," I answered. "I shouldn't have been in that position to begin with."
For a long moment I didn't hear anything from him. I couldn't sense any movement from him. In fact, in the midst of the darkness, I felt completely alone.
I tried to open my eyes again. But there was only the dark.
"Wayne? Wayne, where are you?"
"I'm right here Terry, right in front of you." I was surprised by the sudden closeness of his voice. He sounded concerned. "Terry, you're looking straight at me."
"I don't see you!" I frantically touched at my face. He was right. My eyes were already open. No. No! This can't be happening...
"I'm blind."
I'm in the dark.
-------------------------
The world whirred by.
I felt strong arms lift me into a back hover-car seat.
I heard the hubbub of late night sky traffic.
I smelled a sterile scent safting through a cold corridor.
I tasted the dry medicine air.
I never saw anything, but I knew Wayne had carted me off to Central Gotham Hospital. Evertyhing seems more urgent and frantic in the darkness.
Expert hands examined my head, studied the bruises, pries open my eyelids to check for corneal damage.
I heard a jumbled mess of medical jargan.
Head trauma. Possible concussion. Damage to the photoreceptor neurons.
"They say the blindness is probably temporary." The room finally stopped spinning when I heard Wayne's voice. I hadn't even realized that the doctor had already left.
"Probably?" I snorted, knowing full-well that self-pity colored my words.
"If short-term, you'll get your sight back in a week. If long-term, maybe in 2 years."
I sat silent, leaning against a lumpy pillow, head still pounding a dull, distant throb.
Earlier, Commissioner Gordon had come down personally to get my statement. The official story was that I was running a late-night errand for Mr. Wyane when I got ambushed by the Jokers. Close enough to the truth even if it's not the whole truth. There was a knowing, non-questioning tone in the ex-Batgirl's voice as she closed her electronic recording pad with a faint click.
"Tough break kid, but I'm sure you did your best."
"Commissioner?"
"Yes, Terry?" Hissing of fabric told me that she was putting on her coat and getting ready to leave.
"What made you end your bat-career?"
She thought for a while, indicating that the full answer was probably more complicated than what she was about to tell me.
"I guess it was a combination of a desire to move on to bigger things and a pretty severe injury." She paused. "It happens to the best of us, right Bruce?"
I didn't here Wayne answer, but could imagine his grim, silent stare.
Now with the two of us alone in the eerie hospital stillness, I asked him the one question that had plagued me ever since I discovered my loss of sight.
"So, I guess you'll be needing a new ... 'errand boy'?" No use avoding it. The issue was going to come up sooner or later. Probably sooner since Inque, the Royal Flush Gang and the Jokers were about to start reeking havoc on the city any minute now. Batman would be needed, whether or not Terry McGinnis still has any part in it.
Somewhere inside me, a hollowness was spreading through the deepest part of my soul. Just then I understood why Wayne always seemed so embittered. And I knew why he looks at me with nostalgic envy as I glide through the air in the jet-powered suit.
That used to be him.
The Bat. The Dark Knight. I feel it too now. Once you've become Batman, you'll never feel alive as anything else. You serve and protect. You're needed. You feel like your life has some greater value. Things that used to give you nightmares now fuel and drive you, pushing you to your best and worst.
And when you're no longer able to serve physically, there's still this little bit of internal Bat that can't be removed. If you try to tear it out of you you'll eventually rip up everything inside. Because that Bat awareness is ultimately connected to every part of your being.
"What makes you think you're getting a vacation?" His grumpy voice answered from the silence.
I sat up straighter in the bed. "What?"
"It's not like you lost an arm, Terry. You have a job to do and the city needs you."
His voice was gruff even as he said that. But at that moment I could have been blind, deaf... and completely paralyzed and I would have still felt invincible.
I am blind. I am in the dark. But I am the Dark Knight.
"You know what Terry?"
"What?"
"Bats fly blind anyway."
I groaned. At least I think I did.
My head hurt. Well, everything hurt, but my head seemed to hurt more than anything else. I keep telling myself that I should open my eyes, figure out what's going on. I should open my eyes. But I can't. For whatever reason, I can't. There was still only darkness.
Someone was removing my mask, but I was too weak to fight it.
"Relax Terry. It's me."
I slumped back in relief when I recognized Wayne's voice.
"What happened?"
"Don't try too hard to think right now. Your head took a lot of trauma, you're probably feeling dizzy."
Dizzy didn't seem like the right word for it. Dizzy must be the little brother to what I'm feeling right now. I would have told him, but I couldn't quite get my thoughts together for the right statement.
He was bandaging my head. I could tell because I felt gausse wrapping around my forehead.
"McGinnis, that crash would have killed you if you hit the building at full speed strapped to the Batmobile's hood like that."
I hear a snipping sound. He must be cutting the bandages.
"Why didn't it?" I think I groaned again.
"I slowed it down."
"... you... but how?" Don't tell me Wayne has super Bat-powers or something now.
"Remember the last time I recalibrated the Batmobile's rotational hover gears? I wired in partner controls to the Batmobile from the cave."
"Oh... don't trust my driving anymore huh?"
Something stung the wound on my chest. He must be treating it with that herbal concoction again.
"Well, that was the week you crashed the Batmobile twice. Remember?"
"... 'Crash' is such an ugly word."
"Besides, they're only partner controls. The master controls override my commands." He paused, voice and actions, verbally and motionally. "That's why I couldn't..."
Why he couldn't help me sooner before I crashed. But he still saved me and managed to manuevered the Batmobile back to the Batcave. "Well, I should have been able to take care of myself," I answered. "I shouldn't have been in that position to begin with."
For a long moment I didn't hear anything from him. I couldn't sense any movement from him. In fact, in the midst of the darkness, I felt completely alone.
I tried to open my eyes again. But there was only the dark.
"Wayne? Wayne, where are you?"
"I'm right here Terry, right in front of you." I was surprised by the sudden closeness of his voice. He sounded concerned. "Terry, you're looking straight at me."
"I don't see you!" I frantically touched at my face. He was right. My eyes were already open. No. No! This can't be happening...
"I'm blind."
I'm in the dark.
-------------------------
The world whirred by.
I felt strong arms lift me into a back hover-car seat.
I heard the hubbub of late night sky traffic.
I smelled a sterile scent safting through a cold corridor.
I tasted the dry medicine air.
I never saw anything, but I knew Wayne had carted me off to Central Gotham Hospital. Evertyhing seems more urgent and frantic in the darkness.
Expert hands examined my head, studied the bruises, pries open my eyelids to check for corneal damage.
I heard a jumbled mess of medical jargan.
Head trauma. Possible concussion. Damage to the photoreceptor neurons.
"They say the blindness is probably temporary." The room finally stopped spinning when I heard Wayne's voice. I hadn't even realized that the doctor had already left.
"Probably?" I snorted, knowing full-well that self-pity colored my words.
"If short-term, you'll get your sight back in a week. If long-term, maybe in 2 years."
I sat silent, leaning against a lumpy pillow, head still pounding a dull, distant throb.
Earlier, Commissioner Gordon had come down personally to get my statement. The official story was that I was running a late-night errand for Mr. Wyane when I got ambushed by the Jokers. Close enough to the truth even if it's not the whole truth. There was a knowing, non-questioning tone in the ex-Batgirl's voice as she closed her electronic recording pad with a faint click.
"Tough break kid, but I'm sure you did your best."
"Commissioner?"
"Yes, Terry?" Hissing of fabric told me that she was putting on her coat and getting ready to leave.
"What made you end your bat-career?"
She thought for a while, indicating that the full answer was probably more complicated than what she was about to tell me.
"I guess it was a combination of a desire to move on to bigger things and a pretty severe injury." She paused. "It happens to the best of us, right Bruce?"
I didn't here Wayne answer, but could imagine his grim, silent stare.
Now with the two of us alone in the eerie hospital stillness, I asked him the one question that had plagued me ever since I discovered my loss of sight.
"So, I guess you'll be needing a new ... 'errand boy'?" No use avoding it. The issue was going to come up sooner or later. Probably sooner since Inque, the Royal Flush Gang and the Jokers were about to start reeking havoc on the city any minute now. Batman would be needed, whether or not Terry McGinnis still has any part in it.
Somewhere inside me, a hollowness was spreading through the deepest part of my soul. Just then I understood why Wayne always seemed so embittered. And I knew why he looks at me with nostalgic envy as I glide through the air in the jet-powered suit.
That used to be him.
The Bat. The Dark Knight. I feel it too now. Once you've become Batman, you'll never feel alive as anything else. You serve and protect. You're needed. You feel like your life has some greater value. Things that used to give you nightmares now fuel and drive you, pushing you to your best and worst.
And when you're no longer able to serve physically, there's still this little bit of internal Bat that can't be removed. If you try to tear it out of you you'll eventually rip up everything inside. Because that Bat awareness is ultimately connected to every part of your being.
"What makes you think you're getting a vacation?" His grumpy voice answered from the silence.
I sat up straighter in the bed. "What?"
"It's not like you lost an arm, Terry. You have a job to do and the city needs you."
His voice was gruff even as he said that. But at that moment I could have been blind, deaf... and completely paralyzed and I would have still felt invincible.
I am blind. I am in the dark. But I am the Dark Knight.
"You know what Terry?"
"What?"
"Bats fly blind anyway."