Second Thoughts

            "…and then I kicked him as hard as I could and – Pow! – he smacked into the wall.  One, two, three he was out!  You should have been there Dad, it was so schway."  The young girl danced around the Batcave on the balls of her feet throwing air punches, her face lit up like a Christmas tree.

            Bruce sat in the command chair with his customary air of indifference as he watched her skitter to and fro.  Standing back with her arms crossed over her chest, Mardi observed them with equal parts pride and apprehension written over her face.

            "What did you do with him?" Bruce asked in a low voice.

            Isabella stopped moving and dropped her hands.  "We left him there."

            "Unsecured?"

            She must have registered something in the tone because she turned her head slightly and said, "Um, yeah.  Not that we had anything to tie him up with."

            "You can always improvise," he instructed her.  "But more importantly you're telling me you left a perp, the man who in fact has tried to kill your mother twice now, to go free after you had managed to subdue him?"

            "Bruce…" Mardi started quietly from across the expanse of the cave.

            He did something he knew his was going to pay for later, he held up his hand to silence her, his eyes never leaving Isabella's face.  "Answer me," he commanded in the Bat voice, the one that held no sympathy, allowed no margin for error.

            "Y-yes s-sir," she said, eyes wide and almost surely about to leak tears of shame and frustration.

            "Why?"  Out of the corner of his eye he saw his wife take a step forward and open her mouth to speak.  "Not one word Mardi.  If you don't want to watch than I suggest you go upstairs.  This is between Isabella and me."  Oh yes, he was going to pay dearly.

            "W-we didn't want to get Mr. Powers mad at Mom.  If we had the guy arrested, she would have to explain why he attacked her, uh us."  Her voice rose as she continued.  "Jeez Dad, you of all people should understand!  She's scared of him!" she shouted, but the tears had already started and she wiped at them with an angry hand.

            "Your mother has made her peace with Derek Powers.  Only this man would be able to make the connection and it would not be in his best interest to do so.  You should have immediately turned him over to the police.  We don't let the criminals go just because it suits us.  Am I clear on this?" he finished with a low, moderated voice that did nothing to hide his disapproval, in fact it seemed to amplify it.  It was a trick he's used on his many apprentices.

            Isabella was now crying in full force, head bowed with hitching breaths.  There was a time he would go to her and cradle her in his arms, telling her he'd take care of everything.  Not now, not likely ever again.  She nodded in answer to his question.

            "Good.  You have work to do don't you?"  She nodded again and then was gone, pounding up the stairs like there was a demon on her tail.  He sighed and leaned his head forward.  Sometimes it was such hard work being a cold bastard.

            There was a hollow clapping sound and he looked up to see Mardi smacking the palms of her hands together with a faint frown on her face.  "Bravo.  If that's how you act when she saves our lives, I'd hate to see how you act if she really screws up," she told him.

            "If she really screws up then somebody will be dead, most likely her."

            Mardi's frowned deepened.  "You don't have to be so harsh, you could have still told her she did a good job."

            "I thought you didn't want her doing this at all."  Women.  If only there had been a way to silence his libido, things in his life would have been exceedingly simpler.

            "You know I don't."

            "Then let me do my job."

            But she refused to give up.  "So bullying her is your idea of training?"

            "Whatever works," he growled, and turned the chair away from her.

            "She's going to hate you, isn't she?"

            He didn't bother answering her.  She was either up to the task or wasn't.  If she couldn't handle training there was no point in sending her out to her death.  Just because she was his daughter, his pride and joy, didn't mean he was going to be any less demanding than he was with Terry or Dick or the others.  In the end they all hated him whether or not they wanted to admit it.  Whatever kept them alive, that was all that concerned him. 

            She came around to the side and stared at him for a minute.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't understand."  He continued working, and eventually she gave up and left him in peace.

            Mardi opened the door and saw Isabella face down on her bed, sobbing into her pillow.  "Bella?" she called out with no response.  She noticed the HALO tossed onto the dresser.

            She walked over and sat down on the bed beside the wailing child and placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking softly.  "Bella honey, look at me," she pleaded, but the girl only shook her head and sobbed harder.  With a frown Mardi gently pushed her over onto her back but she lay there with her eyes shut tight.  She was closing out the world.  Stubbornness ran in the family.

            Mardi reached up and gently pinched the girl's nose shut with her fingers until her eyes popped open and she brushed her mother's hand away with annoyance.  "Leave me alone Mom," she cried out in anguish, but at least she kept her eyes open and focused.

            "Is that what you really want?"

            Isabella wiped at her tears and shook her head slowly.  "H-he was so mean.  Why?  He's never talked to me like that before," she said, her voice hitching with sobs.

            "No," Mardi agreed.  "Your father has never spoken to you like that and I'm sure he never wanted to, but you've got to understand he's not exactly your father down there."  The girl blinked in confusion and Mardi tried to explain something she only barely understood herself.  "It's like he changes."  She bit her lip.  "I think he has to lock away a part of himself, replace it with whatever makes him Batman."  She reached over and smoothed Isabella's forehead.  "And you've got to realize what a terrible task this is for him.  Imagine how he'd feel if something happened to you because he didn't teach you everything you needed to know?"

            Swallowing she replied, "I guess he'd be pretty sad."

            "Right.  That's a lot of responsibility."

            "What if I'm not good enough, what if I wasn't meant to do this?" she asked desperately.

            Smiling, Mardi said, "Then it wasn't meant to be, no harm done.  You don't have to try and be something you're not."

            "But if I don't, then how can I be worthy of being his daughter?"

            "Worthy?  Baby, you're more than worthy to be his daughter ten times over.  A hundred times.  This…this crusade of his is nothing, you are what's important."

            "You don't want me to do this.  You don't want me to be like him."

            "Of course I don't, Bella.  I wouldn't be much of a mother if I did.  Then again I don't want you to grow up and get married, but that's not going to stop some guy from sweeping you off your feet one day.  All that matters is what you want.  I've always told you that."

            "And if I was meant to do it and I am good enough?  Today I felt something when I was fighting that guy.  I don't know, it sort of felt…right," Isabella rubbed her eyes sadly.  "He can't be Dad and Batman at the same time, can he?"

            "I'm sorry honey."

            "I've got a lot of thinking to do."  She laid her head down on Mardi's shoulder.

            Mardi stroked her hair and whispered words only she could hear, "It's okay.  No matter what, you'll always be my little girl."  What had she done?  A lifetime of bad decisions culminating in one preposterous idea developed from a single bad dream and now she'd caused perhaps irreparable damage to the relationship between Isabella and her father.  It had never occurred to her that the girl might actually be good at it.