Wow, it sure has been a while huh? Hope you enjoy!
Forty-Five: Jason
"Miss me much, Zee?" Jason asked. Even though his mask was inaccessible to revealing any emotion, she knew he was grinning. The unsettling joviality in his voice informed her everything she needed to know. The way that he casually crossed his arms, rolling his head towards her with false camaraderie told her that he certainly enjoyed the situation that they were currently stuck in.
The correct answer to the question, of course, was yes. But this wasn't the same Jason she knew a lifetime ago: glib, smart-mouthed, sharp as a tack and glowing with life. This Jason moved with a taut rigidity due to the untimely revival that catapulted him back into the land of the living.
She remembered the child fondly. She was a little more unsure of this man that had at least a foot and a half over her and radiated menace.
No wonder Tim had tapped out when Bruce had given the offer for the night. She was wondering herself whether or not she had made the right choice herself-and where the hell was Bruce, anyways? The roof was expansive, but felt oddly claustrophobic given present company.
"It sure has been a while, Jason." she said, pushing herself off the calcified gargoyle that had been her safe point of distance. She neared him and the edge of the roof the way a gamekeeper would approach a recently-tranquilized animal: with supreme caution. "It's good to see you back in Gotham with the family."
"Ah, Zee," Jason said as he rolled his shoulders, "wild horses couldn't keep me away. It's been a real walk down memory lane getting back into the routine here in good ol' Gotham."
"No kidding?" she ventured forward carefully, til they were in arm's reach. This was still the same kid that years ago sat in the kitchen and picked at his cuts and scabs from the night before. He was just…different. "Nothing like a little stability to get you back on your feet."
"Yeah, yeah." he nodded affably, looking sidelong at her.. "Crazy to see how Bruce hasn't changed much. Matter of fact, you neither."
She tried to ignore the gaze that roamed down her legs and lingered as it roamed back up.
"Clean living will do the trick, Jason." she said, trying to aim the conversation in a neutral direction. But based off of the angle his mask indicated it was tilted towards, she needed to fix his point of view.
"Got any tips for me?" he asked. "I mean, I hear that you'n Bruce got that whole system for stress relief fixed up and everything."
She blinked once, slowly, as he continued. "So, I'm open to any options you might…suggest."
"Trying to punch above your weight class, kiddo?" she asked, crossing her arms-she wouldn't give him the chance to admire any goods she didn't want him privy to.
That glossy red mask cocked back up at an angle cavalier enough to inform her he was having fun. "I dunno, Zee. Anything good enough for Bruce is good enough for me."
"Just wondering, J," Zee said, "When they took you out of the Lazarus Pits, did they happen to drop you on your head?"
"You wanna come closer and take a look?" he asked, his arms wide open, daring her to accept his invitation.
"Maybe later." came the voice of the cavalry, with a tone akin to the glacial shelf splintering. Zatanna turned with relief to see her savior and tried to feign casualness for the sake of the rest of the night.
"Hi, Bruce." she smiled, and seeing him here, just having his presence was enough to alleviate the discomfort she had felt moments before. Even more reassuring was the quietly intense gaze he settled upon her, before turning to regard his more wayward associate.
"Oh, good to see Daddy's here just in time." Jason's tone seemed, daresay, a little more glum at the newcomer; he folded his arms one over the other in almost mock defeat. "I guess playtime's over."
Jason turned in retreat to retrieve some remaining equipment, which gave her an opportunity to sidle up to the more desirable companion. She ran a gloved hand down his plated arm, looking up at him with a grin.
"Long time no see, stranger." she said. "You couldn't have had better timing."
"I take it his repartee left something to be desired?" Bruce's voice dripped with sarcasm-and a tone of possessiveness. Something which was mirrored in a hand that, had she not grown familiar with it, she could have sworn just barely ghosted over her waist. And lingered. In a way that she knew would be exponentially moreso later tonight.
"Nothing I can't handle, 'daddy,'" she sardonically attempted Jason's word choice, "But just don't be surprised if I shrink his head to the size of a grape if he keeps acting up."
"Might be an improvement." Bruce didn't smile, but the tone of his voice told her everything.
Like father, like son.
"Yeah, we'll see." she said. They turned to regard their third wheel accompanying them for the rest of the night. "We'll see."
Forty-Six: Wingman
For Bruce, of all people, surprisingly, it was Diana. Once she had heard that there actually was a heart to him, and the cause was a disarmingly sweet young magician, it was a spot of contention she wouldn't let go. And one that Bruce would have reversed time, moved mountains, and potentially considered the benefits of making someone disappear to undo.
"She's awfully cute." Diana said in the mess hall. Bruce didn't dare turn his head in the direction that she stared opposite him, head cupped in her hand. He settled instead for staring through her in an attempt to cause her to spontaneously combust. As of the moment, it remained unsuccessful.
"I don't know who you're talking about." Bruce replied. Stonewalling would have to be the best evasive maneuver he could manage in such close quarters. Retreat was not an option.
Diana munched thoughtfully on a stalk of broccoli; he watched her gaze as she held it on a moving target. Still, he refused to turn around.
"She's very sweet too. I talked to her yesterday about her residency in Gotham, and she was just so excited to talk about it."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. Silence would have to be his next tactic in this game of strategy.
"I'd love to go see a show of hers. Wouldn't you?" Diana's returning attack was swift but brutal.
"You see her magic on duty. Isn't that enough for you?" was his wintry response as he engaged in diversion.
"Hippolyta is a patron of the arts. As her daughter in unfamiliar lands, is it not my duty to uphold her desire to continue her legacy?" Diana was smiling-dangerous. She was playing with him.
"Subtlety is not your strong suit, Princess." Bruce responded through gritted teeth. "This isn't a battle you want to fight."
"I'm an Amazon, Bruce." she stabbed a fork in his direction. "I was raised in the art of war-foreign and domestic. Oh, Zatanna!"
She waved over her target, as he scowled daggers that fell impervious to her defenses.
"I'm going to make you regret this." he said as he heard a familiar tread of footsteps approach the two of them. It was too late for him to retreat. The only option now was to engage, as he turned his head to regard the pretty magician that had eyes only for him as she approached.
"Or maybe you'll thank me later." Diana gave him a beatific smile. "Did I mention that Cupid is my cousin on my mother's side?"
Forty-Seven: Hostage
In the overall rankings, Killer Moth was more on the small fry end of the big pond that consisted of Gotham's Rogue's Gallery. A minor bank robbery here, some petty arms theft another day; nothing that Bruce couldn't handle on the regular off-night on duty.
On duty was one thing. Present at a political banquet in front of hundreds of guests with no discernible exit in sight? And being caught in closest proximity to the donation box? Within proximity that made him ideal to be taken as a "hostage?"
Zatanna would have laughed if it hadn't meant she was in this precarious situation.
"Okay, Walker," Zatanna said as she stepped carefully into the light, "There's no need to make any hasty decisions."
Her gaze wavered on those bobbling green antennae that attempted to ooze danger, before returning to Killer Moth's aforementioned hostage.
To his credit, Bruce appeared to be emulating a state of stoicism enviable by solitary monks. Perhaps the gun barrel pressed against his temple enforced his method of acting.
"Take another step, sweet cheeks, and Playboy here buys it." Killer Moth warned, garish pink vest fluorescent under the unflattering light. His striped tights framed his legs well as they spread in an appearance of establishing dominance. "You heard my demands-10 million in ten minutes or Wayne's head turns into a Jackson Pollock all over this wall."
"Come on, Killer Bee," Bruce invoked a genial tone sharply contrasted by his sustained expression of sobriety, "Can't we talk this out? We're all reasonable people here."
"It's Killer Moth." Killer Moth returned snippily, pressing the barrel a degree rougher into Bruce's temple.
Bruce acquiesced with a response he deemed appropriate and held up his hands in apology to him. "Sorry. There's just so many of you guys in Gotham nowadays."
"And this is how I make my mark!" At this, Killer Moth turned, antenna bobbling madly as he returned his attention to Zatanna. "Give me the money now or Wayne-"
"I know, I know." Zatanna said. "Or Wayne gets it. Ezeerf."
At this, Killer Moth drew stock-still, an immovable object trapped in time in questionably fashionable attire. Bruce looked over at his would-be captor before turning back to her, cocking an eyebrow.
"Was it just too irresistible to try and watch me squirm?" Bruce asked, offering her a half-ways smirk. She shrugged with lackadaisical ease.
"It's not that often that I get to be the rescuer, Mr. Wayne. Pardon me for letting it run out a lil' longer." she casually tossed a curl over her shoulder.
"I'll make sure to scream next time." he replied dryly.
"Just as long as the next guy makes sure to tie you up," she offered with a devilish grin, "I'm in."
"Don't get your hopes up."
"Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?"
Forty-Eight: Tree
"Man, does this bring back memories." Zatanna said, as she grinned up at a familiar friend.
Everyone had carved their name into the old willow, at one point or another. Alfred had nursed it from a sapling decades ago on the edge of the Wayne Estate just for all of his adoptive children (and nieces, and nephews) to deface it in the distant future.
"Yes, it does." Bruce said, ever one for poetic monosyllabism.
"You see our names?" Zatanna asked, surveying the tree as she sidestepped around the great trunk. She circled, hungrily reading for the names that so documented the years the tree professed.
"I found Dick's." Bruce noted, and ran his fingers over the spot that Grayson had claimed.
A few decades ago, Dick had brought a batarang and selected an unsubtle location for his first name to adorn the tree, right in the center of the great trunk. Bruce had to suppress a chuckle as he looked at a missing piece of bark that had never regrown, right under the 'K' Dick had carved. It nakedly exposed the underside of the tree where the batarang had slipped and decided to embed itself into Dick's palm.
"I remember that." Zatanna grinned, returning to his side. "He had a cast on that hand for like a week, didn't he?"
"Two." Bruce corrected her, and allowed a smile to cross his face at that point. Zee was wise enough not to comment on it.
"Check this one out." she pointed, directing his attention to a scrawl under one of the great yawning branches. Bruce craned his neck up to look at a sentence carved with smug ability.
"Jason Todd climbed up this tree on May 20th." Zatanna narrated, squinting to read the crudely chiseled words, before turning back to regard her companion. "Still humble as ever, ol' Jason."
"Look under the other branch." Bruce corrected her with a degree of humor that necessitated she do a double-take. She followed the direction that his finger prompted her to look, tucking a curl behind her ear as the wind sighed through the yawning branches.
"And-"-she laughed mid-reading, an unexpected chortle-"-Tim Drake climbed up an even higher branch than Jason Todd did on September 18th. U SNOOZE U LOOSE JASON."
"His penmanship leaves something to be desired." Bruce wryly replied.
"Penmanship, schmensmanship." Zatanna shot back. "Like you need it when you're cracking skulls."
Her arm snaked around his, searching for his hand. Bruce looked up at her with a peaceful expression that she'd never confess to him he had: it was a look he reserved only for her.
"Come check out the other side with me." she smiled. "I found more."
The other side revealed two well-kept secrets: she shared the lesser of the two first.
"This must be recent." She directed his attention with a manicured finger, pointed to the base of the tree. He readily followed her guidance.
"Babs and Kara." Bruce read aloud. "Good-looking heart."
"Must be the laser vision." Zatanna replied, putting a hand on her hip. "I like it."
She snapped to attention, driven to display the best for last.
"And, last but not least-"
At this, she crouched in a manner some might consider unladylike, and parted the thicket of grass that protected the first carving made on the tree. For a little dramatic effect, she dusted away some of the dirt that had caked on it with the years that had come and gone.
"No magic required for this bad boy," Zatanna boasted, "And behold! It withstands the test of time."
At this, Bruce let a full-fledged smile at the carving a two dollar pocket-knife had engraved many, many years ago. It still looked good, grammar be damned.
Bruce and Zee Was Here.
"Yes," Bruce said as she looked back up to beam at him. "It really does."