Dazed and Confused

            Barbara had leapt into action the second the call was disconnected.  She'd sent one detail of officers to the river coordinates Bruce had given her and then she took a second with her to Wayne-Powers.  Fortunately police headquarters was only a few blocks away so she had a chance of getting things under control before he showed up.

            Things weren't looking good when he finally appeared, entering through the main door and striding confidently up the lobby.  She was waiting for him and stepped forward.  For one second she was afraid he'd brush right past her and she'd be forced to arrest him.  But he did stop and glare down at her as if demanding she pick a side and heaven help her if she picked the wrong one.

            "She hasn't been here," she stated boldly.

            "I don't believe that," he muttered and did push her aside.

            "Bruce," she said and did the unthinkable: she put a hand on his arm to stop him.  He turned back and she saw that Batman was still alive and well after all this time, and more than ready to take on all comers.  "You've got to listen to me now.  She did not come through the lobby and none of the secured doors have recorded an entrance using her pass card since yesterday afternoon.  No record of her parking in the garage, no footage of her on any of the security cameras, no witnesses.  Powers has agreed to talk to me, to us, but you have to understand this is a dead end."

            He didn't respond in words but the look on his face was all she needed.  Together they rode the elevator to the very top of the skyscraper.  A nod by the secretary authorized their entrance into the innermost sanctum.  Derek Powers rose from his desk as they walked through the door and greeted them with a smile and an outstretched hand towards Barbara.

            "Commissioner, it's been too long.  Not since Sam's campaign party last year I believe."

            She barely touched his hand and opened her mouth to speak when Bruce interrupted.  "Where is she Powers?"

            "I understand this has something to do with your wife, correct?" he replied with the innocence of a born politician.

            "She's missing."

            "I assure you I haven't seen her since yesterday afternoon.  Surely she came home last night?" he asked.

            "You know she did," Bruce growled in response.  "She was coming here this morning to give you her resignation."

            "Well as disappointing as that is to hear, it's the first I've heard about it."

            Before any more could be said, Barbara's radio squawked to get her attention.  "Gordon here."

            "Commissioner, we've found the car.  They're bringing it up now."

            "Is there anybody in it?  Is there a body?" she asked in a tight voice, not wanting to look up into his eyes.

            "Just a second, it's just breaking the water now."  Seconds ticked by in tense silence as three people waited to hear the worst.  "Okay I can see now.  No Commissioner, no body.  But the door's open.  Looks like it may have sprung on impact.  The body could have floated upstream," the voice said obliviously.

            "Understood, sergeant.  Have them drag the river.  Gordon out."  Looking up she could have sworn she saw the hint of a frown crease Derek Powers' perfect countenance, but then Bruce was on him, gripping the lapels of his coat and sneering in his face.

            "What did you do!?"  He shook him like a rag doll.

            Barbara stepped in and pulled at his arm.  "Bruce, get off of him now!  Don't do it this way or I can't help you."  He released his grip and turned to her.

            Powers stumbled back several steps.  "You are a menace Wayne," he said smoothing down his jacket.  "Don't blame me because you didn't keep a short enough leash on your woman."

            Ignoring him she pulled Bruce closer to the door.  "We have procedures, Bruce, and attacking people is not one of them.  Besides, she may very well still be alive."  But even as the words escaped her mouth her gut knew better.  Instinct told her that something very bad had happened and that more than likely Derek Powers was behind it, but she was a cop and needed hard evidence, not instinct.   The look on his face told her he believed it even less than she did.  This was not a man who had survived a lifetime of darkness on false hope.  "I'll start at the scene and work my way back," she said in a lowered voice.  "Hopefully the trail will lead back to him."  He shot one last look at Powers and then stalked out the door.

            From behind her, Barbara heard, "Someone should commit that senile old coot before he hurts someone."   With a small shake of her head, she left the office.

            The mid-afternoon sun shone through the large windows of the library, warming it up to almost uncomfortable levels, but that was how she liked it.  The warmer the better.  He walked into the room and saw her sitting sideways on the couch engrossed in a book held in her hands.  Isabella was napping in her playpen not too far away and she was taking advantage of a rare quiet moment to herself.  Slowly he walked the perimeter of the room with the stealth of a man more comfortable with shadows, coming up behind her.   He walked without pain, the twinges in his back mere whispers of the agony that would force a cane upon him in a decade later.

            Once he'd reached his mark he bent down and placed his lips against the soft skin of her exposed neck.  After an initial gasp of surprise, she sighed and said, "Mister, that feels wonderful, but if my husband finds you you're likely to get your head knocked off."

            "That's a risk I'm willing to take," he whispered into her ear.

            She turned her head towards him.  "Mr. Wayne, are you trying to seduce me?" she asked playfully.

            "What if I am?"

            "Think about your heart.  You don't want to overtax yourself."

            He wrapped an arm around her waist.  "For you I could leap tall buildings."

            Her lips spread into a broad smile and she cupped his cheek with her palm.  "Have I told you recently how much I love you?"

            His brow furrowed, giving the impression of serious thought.  "I think it's been awhile," he responded.

            Her arms snaked around his neck and she opened her mouth to speak, but then the baby started to cry and…

            …He woke up.  Bats rustled overhead, lights blinked incessantly on the console before him, and Ace sat with his head on Bruce's lap making soft whimpering noises in his throat.

            "Talking in my sleep again, boy?"  The large dog looked up at him with brown eyes and then licked his hand once.  "Sorry about that," he muttered and scratched the dog behind the ears.

            Two weeks had come and gone without any sign.  Nothing had netted any results.  Not dragging the river, not checking all the hospitals in the entire city, not even canvassing the surrounding neighborhoods in a door-to-door search.  Officially it was stamped an accident with Mardi missing presumed dead.  No evidence of foul play Barbara said, nothing they could use against Powers.  She'd vanished completely and he had no hope of ever seeing her alive again because if she was alive she surely would have called by now.  If she was alive without at least contacting him that would mean she had intentionally disappeared.  Now all that seemed important was obtaining a sense of closure and finding the courage to tell Isabella that her mother was gone.  Forever.

            "Mr. Wayne?"  The voice was behind him and he hadn't even heard him come in.  Terry was growing almost as quiet as he was.  "Are you okay?" the boy asked hesitantly.

            "Yes."

            "No word?"

            "No."

            "Should I, maybe, you know…?"

            "Go to work.  Those smugglers we've been watching are heading out tonight.  You need to stop them."

            "Right.  But I was thinking that maybe the police missed…"

            "Now Terry.  They're not going to wait around for you."

            "Sure."  He moved off and Bruce heard the faint rustling as he exchanged the clothes of a normal teenager with those of a masked crime fighter.  When he was done Bruce tracked his movements as he walked to the car.

            "Terry," he called out, still not bothering to turn around.

            "Yes?"

            "What are you doing on Saturday?"

            "Catching up on my sleep, I hope."

            "Care to drive me upstate?"

            "Uh, sure, no problem.  What's upstate?"

            "My daughter."

            Once Terry had left, Bruce sat in the solitude of the command center he had created, alone again, just like always.  He had never once considered that he would outlive her.  He had never considered it at all.

            It was strictly dumb luck that she was even alive.  Luck that the over-muscled Neanderthal in Powers' employ was too dumb to engage the safety harness or to completely close the door before sending the car careening down the slopped riverbank or even to stick around to see the job finished properly.

            Awakening as the frigid, foul smelling water crept up her legs, disoriented and partially paralyzed, she'd floated out into the river's current before the car was completely immersed, barely managing to keep her head above water, but she'd learned to swim before even taking her first steps and natural instinct took over allowing her to slowly propel herself to the opposite edge.  There she'd lain on the dirty riverbank not thirty yards from a group of street people huddled around a barrel fire who looked at her as if she were a creature from the deep.  Finally able to stand, she'd wandered around the city cold and confused and most importantly frightened with no real destination in mind.  Hours later she stopped and realized she knew where she was, recognized the neighborhood, and heaved a sigh of relief as she staggered the last few steps to the door.

            Now over two weeks later she sat in the cozy kitchen and watched her old friend and roommate clean up the breakfast dishes, wondering why nothing she cooked ever smelled so good.  To her right in a highchair was Jesse's youngest child, an eighteen-month-old girl with bright eyes and hair sticking out in random corkscrews.  She was alternating between eating and playing with a piece of toast coated with peanut butter.  Occasionally she'd look up at Mardi and grin.  Jesse's husband and three boys had gone down to the local park for a Saturday game of pickup basketball.

            "Mardi, look at this," Jesse said and turned up the small TV sitting on the kitchen counter.  On the news was archived footage of her car being pulled out of the Gotham River with a voice-over commenting that after two weeks of fruitless searching, Mardi Purcell Wayne was presumed dead.  "Well?" Jesse asked.

            "Well what?"

            "Honey, you know you can stay here as long as you like, but are you considering what this is doing to your family?"

            "What am I supposed to do Jesse?  No one's ever tried to kill me before.  I'm a little hazy on the particulars."

            "Go to the police!  That's what they're there for."

            Mardi shook her head emphatically.  "I underestimated him once, I don't intend to do it again.  As long as everyone thinks I'm dead, then I'm safe."

            "And Bruce?  What about him?"

            "It's complicated."

            Jesse walked over and sat down, still holding the dishtowel in one hand and gripping Mardi's hand with the other.  "What are you going to do?"

            "I can just leave the city altogether.  I'll go somewhere and start over.  It's not like I haven't done that before."

            The grip on her hand tightened.  "What about your little girl?  You're just going to leave her too?"

            "I could, you know, swing up and get her.  We could travel around together.  It'd be fun."

            "Listen to yourself!  First of all once you did that everyone would know you were still alive.  You think he's just going to let you go off and take her away without a fight?  Besides, haven't you done enough running for one lifetime?"

            Exhausted, Mardi dropped her head down onto the table and closed her eyes.  The baby threw pieces of half-chewed bread into her hair and Jesse gently squeezed her hand.  "I miss him," she mumbled helplessly into the Formica top.

            "And?" Jesse prompted.

            "And I still love him."

            "So what are you going to do about that?"

            Mardi groaned and raised her head.  She looked at the child and said, "Get out while you still can, kid, she's relentless."  She heard Jesse make a sound and felt the towel slap against her arm.  The girl giggled happily and pounded the tray in front of her.

            It was the hardest decision she had ever had to make.  If she went home it would be like signing her own death warrant, but if she left for good, if she turned her back on those she loved more than anything else, it would be like death itself.