Title: Time Will Tell
Author: DC Luder
Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends. Done in a rotating Point Of View style.
Rating: T
Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.
Author's Note: Revised chapter posted 2/7/10
^V^
As soon as I shut the double doors, Tim frantically asked, "What the hell is happening to him, Dick?"
Panicking, I forced myself to take a breath before offering, "Some confusion can be expected after being in a coma... Let Alfred and Leslie take care of him for now…"
Confusion, Bruce had looked as if he was reliving every single one of his worst nightmares all at once. Knowing Alfred wasn't going to let us back in until they had figured things out, I turned to face Dick and Barbara while putting on my best everything is going to fine face.
"What should we do?" Barbara asked, her tired face suddenly alive with worry.
A growl ripping through my stomach inspired me, "Well… it's almost five… I say we go downstairs and work on some breakfast and---."
Tim shook his head in disbelief, "What? How can you think about food?"
Barbara came to my rescue, "He's right… there's nothing we can do right now…" Tim went to speak but she cut him off, "Tim, sitting outside this room is going to give you ulcers."
He looked to the master bedroom at the sound of Leslie's muted voice conflicting with unintelligible sounds.
"Tim?" I stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, "Tim, come on… we'll fill up, coffee it up and then come back up here… it's going to be a long day…"
His eyes still on the door as the voices rose, he slowly nodded, "Fine… just for a minute."
As we rode down in the elevator, I felt Barbara's hand sneak over and grasp mine briefly. When I looked down at her, she smiled before nodding towards Tim. My eyes found him leaning against the back of the paneled car, arms crossed over his chest and face in turmoil. He would be sixteen years old in July and where most boys his age were worried about passing their road test, he was dealing with an unimaginable tragedy.
Hell, I was in my twenties and I was barely holding it together.
Passing into the open archway of the kitchen, I patted Tim on the shoulder, "Rule number one, no mess. Any mess made, we'll say the back door was left open and raccoons did it."
Tim smirked weakly before taking a seat on one of the island counter's stools.
As I perused the refrigerator, Barbara excused herself to the bathroom. Without her input, I decided to go with a timely breakfast as opposed to boisterous. Knowing that busy hands helped distract busy minds, I put Tim to work chopping up peppers, potatoes and onions for a hash. With him somewhat hard at work, I went about making a big skillet of scrambled eggs, although not the variety I was used to making with cheddar cheese and a third of a bottle of Frank's Red Hot sauce.
Little too early for that, even for me.
Barbara returned just as I was filling an iron griddle with the diced vegetables and when she asked if there was coffee was ready, I swore, "Sorry, I forgot about it."
"Typical, letting your stomach lead the way," she joked before approaching the automatic coffee maker. It was one of the few electronics Alfred allowed to remain out on his countertops. The entire battalion of cooking appliances each had their place in one of two dozen cupboards, coming out to serve their purpose, followed by a thorough cleaning before being put away.
For April Fool's one year, I had switched them all around.
Alfred had made me porridge for breakfast as a means of punishment.
The good old days.
Not fifteen minutes later, breakfast was ready and we were doing our best to eat in the nook. The looming silence and pre-dawn darkness had done little for our appetites, not to mention the worry of what was happening in a particular third floor bedroom…
After barely being able to empty half of his plate, Tim rose from the table and said e was going to wash up and change for the day. Before leaving he had added, "I'm calling into school… but I'll tell Dad I went in early."
"Excellent sidekick cover story," Barbara replied.
Tim nodded before commenting, "Getting a little too good at them, lately."
Alone, I finally allowed myself to sit back with a heavy sigh. Given how hectic things had been over the last three days, I really hadn't allotted myself to let things sink in. Optimistically, I had kept telling myself that everything was going to be okay once he woke up. He'd be out of commission for a month or two, but we would take care of the city. Then, once Leslie had given him the all clear, he'd suit back up and we'd all live happily ever after.
The terrified look on Bruce's face had crushed my hopes.
"Dick?"
I looked at her for a moment and then concentrated on the cooling eggs before me. "When he started blinking, I thought it was code but it… It was just blinking… And then he just…" I rose to my feet, pacing back and force, "Jesus, Babs, he was hyperventilating! He was supposed to wake up and… he… he should have... He should have just the sonofabitch's once more and finished him off..."
Barbara had pushed herself away from the table, placing herself in my path as I about faced. My fists ached as I clenched them and when she reached for my hand, I loosened them.
"I'm sorry. He--- This could have been your dad."
"Don't be Dick."
"I still am."
She nodded before letting go of me, "I know." After returning to the table, Barbara continued, "Suppose I should go down to the Cave, lure Cass up here."
"She came up after patrols?" I asked, I as I joined her in collecting the used dishware.
Nodding, she replied, "She was still in Bryanttown when I signed off, and when we left the Clinic I called her and she was in the Village… I told her to come up when she was done."
With the sky lightening outside the bay windows, I wondered if Barbara would find her in the Cave or the tireless Cassandra Cain was still in the city, brutalizing thugs of all shapes and sizes.
Although we had all taken Bruce's injury to heart, our most recent addition to the Family was suffering just as if she had been with us all along. Cassandra's devotion to Bruce was unquestionable, and seeing her revert to her near mute ways after the shooting had been difficult to bear. We all had endured tragedy in our lives but Cassandra's horrific upbringing had topped us all.
Barbara and I agreed that becoming a part of the Family had been her salvation, that the young girl looked up to Bruce as the father she never had but the one she had always dreamed of.
A dream that wasn't meant to end.
^V^
After Tim returned, we quickly cleaned up the kitchen and opted to wait downstairs for news from Alfred and Leslie. As the boys turned right towards the den, I kept to the left in order to head to the elevator once more.
To access the Cave, I retrieved my key ring to open the small hatch, then pressed my palm to the scanner and spoke my pass code aloud for audio clearance. While Bruce's was a line from Faust, mine was from Fargo, "I'm not sure I agree with you a hundred percent on your police work, there, Lou." Once the Computer decided I was in fact Barbara Gordon, the elevator car shifted and then slowly descended into the floor of the Cave.
Thankfully, she had made the trek to the Cave although rather than coming up to join us, she had changed into lyrca pants and a tank top and was in the training bay. Following the sound of chains chiming, I found her on the gymnast rings in the midst of inverse. The quivering in her arms and the redness in her face said she had been holding herself upside down for some time.
Rather than interrupt her, I watched on as she allowed her straight form to complete two full rotations before hesitating once more on the inverse stand, followed by two backwards rotation. As she dismounted using a double tuck with her arms straight out to the side, I moved closer to the dark blue mats and grabbed a towel off of a rack.
After I tossed it to her, she caught it and wiped her sweat-covered face.
"Been back long?" I asked.
She shrugged. When I asked how long specifically, she shrugged again, "Half hour."
Watching her stretch her back out, I informed her of what had happened upstairs. A lightness washed over her face that quickly vanished when I had explained what condition we had left Bruce in.
"Okay?"
"Alfred and Leslie are with him now… but we're in the den waiting from them… when you're ready."
"Ready now," she offered.
"Don't want to wash up?"
Shaking her head, Cassandra explained, "Not done working."
Of course.
She joined me in the elevator after grabbing a bottle of water from the small fridge on the far wall of the training bay. As the car began its ascension, my cell phone chirped from my pocket and I was quick to answer, "Hello?"
"Hey, sweetheart. it's just me," my father's tired voice greeted me, "Did I wake you?"
"No, I've been up for a bit…"
"Oh… I… just called the Clinic, they…. They said Leslie left with a patient in an ambulance… Barbara… I… I think something happened to him…"
"Dad. They took him home."
"What?"
Lying, I explained, "I called around midnight, just to check in… they said he had been stable long enough for transport…"
He cleared his throat, a nervous habit of his, and asked, "Anything else, any change?"
I nodded, biting my lip before saying, "Dad, he's… still unconscious, but Leslie said there was some EEG activity so hopefully it won't be long."
"Damnit… I knew I should have gone down again last night…"
"Maybe, you could still visit him---."
"No, Barbara… I don't want to intrude…"
The elevator doors opened and Cassandra lead the way out, "Dad… He's your friend… I'm sure they wouldn't see it as an intrusion."
Silence and then, "I guess… Well, get some sleep, sweetheart."
"You, too, Dad."
By the time I had joined the others in the den, Cass had taken a seat on the leather couch beside Tim. Rather then move onto the couch, I remained in my chair and moved to sit beside Dick. I told him about my father's call, and more importantly, how concerned he had been.
"You did the right thing, not telling him he's awake," Dick nodded as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.
"Are we going to wait until he's back in the tights before telling my father he's even awake?"
Dick winced before responding, "No one needs to know yet. We don't even know what his condition is."
"Yes we do," Leslie's voice came from the door.
We looked in her direction to see her as well as Alfred standing just inside the room. She walked forward as she continued, "He has lost all forms of communication: speech, sign, writing. From what I can tell, he has no understanding of what happened to him or for that matter, he has no understanding of who anyone is. I tried to do a neurological exam but I couldn't get him to follow my directions. The only good news I have is that he appears to have full use of his vision, hearing and pain receptors."
Dick lifted a hand to cover his mouth as Tim and Cass left their slack jaws uncovered. Since I had known this was a possibility from the beginning, I was quick to ask about his other injuries, "What about the bullet by his spine?"
Leslie nodded, "No permanent damage that I can see. All of his reflexes are a little sluggish, but in order."
Tim spoke as he rose from the couch, "Can we see him?"
"No. I have him sedated until we can truly ascertain the extent of the brain damage. For now, I'd prefer if only Alfred and myself dealt with him. Less confusion leads to less pain for him."
The silence of the room allowed my head to echo with Leslie's words: brain damage. A man I admired, honored and loved, a man who knew everything about anything and more… had lost what meant the most to him.
His mind.
When Bane had paralyzed him, he had confided in me that he finally understood how I was able to think so clearly in the chair. He had admitted at being frustrated, and also intrigued with how everything had gained a more potent perspective. I had told him that without the body we still had our better half.
Now it was reversed, he had his body but no longer could he control it.
^V^
I left Leslie to answer questions for my concerned charges in order to tend to Master Bruce.
He had reached such a panicked state that only the most powerful of sedatives were able to put him into a fitful slumber. Although Leslie was far more concerned with his inability to communicate, I was unable to look beyond the feral look in his eyes as they shot bolts of pain into my soul.
It had reminded me of when he was a child, waking in the middle of the night screaming for his father to save him.
Entering the master bedroom, I was pleased to find him snoring softly in a peaceful, albeit drug induced, slumber. Upon closer inspection, the muscles around his eyes twitched randomly, a sure sign of the nightmares that plagued him.
As Leslie had been conducting her examinations, Master Bruce had desperately tried to communicate with stuttering mumbles that went unexplained. His eyes danced violently, trying to understand the world around him. Even without all of the most expensive tests and doctors, I had known just by looking at him that something was terribly wrong.
The powerful presence he once expelled, even in states of infirm, was no longer present. It was as if his spirit had left his body on the filthy patch of street and I thought morbidly it was just as his parents had died.
Only he hadn't left this world to join them.
After dampening a wash cloth with cold water, I moved to Master Bruce's bedside, placing it on his forehead.
No, what he suffered was much worse for no matter how terrible, everyone cherished their memories.
The twitching ceased at his eyes and he sighed deeply with content.
"Sleep, young sir. No harm shall come your way this day."
Letting my thoughts run wild, I sat at his bedside for another hour, watching for any sign of him waking and yet at the same time hoping he would not. With our worst fears realized, a long road to recovery was growing before all of us. He would have to relive his entire life, so to speak, building his way back to what he was step by step. In some fashion, he had been given a fresh start through tragedy, one that I was beginning to wonder about.
Given that he was able to learn once more the skills of life, would he be able to learn the skills that had lead him down the path of vigilantism? Would he want to?
My thoughts, both light and dark, were interrupted as Leslie entered the room. She smiled at me before opening the blackout drapes, letting in soft, pink rays of sunlight. As she joined me by the bed, she kissed the top of my head before sitting beside Master Bruce, barely denting the mattress with her petite frame.
"At least he's comfortable now."
I nodded, removing the used cloth, "That he is."
As she took his hand into hers, she sighed, "I wish I could help him. God... At least to be able to communicate with him, but if he can't speak or even sign---"
"Master Bruce has a way of overcoming obstacles, I'm fairly certain that this qualifies," I assured her.
"Taking on a mob by himself is nothing compare to this, Alfred."
I watched as she gently touched his rough cheek. We both had been left as surrogate parents when Master Thomas and Ms. Martha had been slain so many years ago. We had shared the hardships of raising such an intelligent and yet disturbed young boy. Knowing the future his parents had wanted nothing but the best for him, we had done everything in our power to allow their dream to be realized. It was with our guidance and love that he had grown from that boy into a far more intelligent and disturbed man...
Now, as his future slipped through our fingers, it seemed that I was not the only one who was rethinking how he had been raised.
^V^
I watched from the door.
Dr. Leslie and Alfred looked so sad as they watched him sleep.
I hadn't been able to sleep since he was shot.
I knew it was my fault. If I had followed him into the building, he would have been okay.
He was awake, but still… he could die.
All my fault.
It had been hard, listening to Dr. Leslie tell us about his condition. Dick, Barbara and Tim were talking about how things were going to change. I didn't have anything to say, so I had left.
Walking upstairs, I drifted through the halls. Wandering put me at ease.
Sitting still was torture.
Being helpless.
Dr. Leslie got up and walked over to the bathroom, letting me see him on the bed.
They had removed some of the bandages from his face, looked like he was sleeping.
The last time I had seen him awake had been when he was shot. Laying on the pavement, Robin and the big detective pressing on his wounds. Commissioner holding his hand, calling out his name.
He was looking around, looking up at us. Seemed okay, considering he was bleeding so much…
"Cassandra?" a voice asked softly from behind me.
I drew a breath then turned to see Dick.
I didn't say anything, as usual.
"You can't be up here," he grabbed my arm softly and guided me towards the inner hall.
"I know."
When we were away from the doors, he spoke louder, "Then why are you up here?"
"I… don't know. Wanted see him."
"We all do, but we have to wait. Right now… seeing him like he is…" Dick ran a hand through his short hair, "It will upset him… and he needs to rest… to get better."
"If."
"What?"
"If he get better."
His eyes narrowed, "We can't think like that… we don't know anything, it might be temporary, it might fade away in a few days, a few weeks."
Barbara always said Dick saw the best in everything while Bruce saw the worst.
I guess I was like Bruce.
"When see him? Few days, weeks?"
He paused before answering, "No… once he's… once he's able to stay calm we can see him, Leslie just wants to make sure he's not going to shock his system with too much happening at once."
I nodded, knowing I wasn't going to wait that long.
All my fault.
After a moment, I asked, "Who out with me?"
"What?" he asked, not completely fluent in my short language.
"At night," I stuck my index fingers up to the sides of my head, imitating a cowl.
"Robin, of course… and myself. For however long you need me."
"You be him? Or you?"
His eyes darted back and forth as he figure out what I meant. He swallowed hard before answering, "I... I think for the time being. Until he recovers that is..."
"Be him."
Nodding, Dick replied, "I suppose. Unless you don't---"
"Okay me," I pointed at myself and then pointed to him, "Okay you?"
"I've done it once before… but he asked me to…Now, what other choice do we have?"
My eyes found the bedroom door as I nodded.
He set a hand on my shoulder, squeezing before saying, "It's going to be, okay Cass. He's alive… he's awake… that in itself is a miracle."
No, he was physically able of coming back from the bullet wounds. Alfred said he had been through worse.
As Dick guided me back towards the stairs, I thought that a miracle would be if he got his mind back.
If Batman came back.
^V^