So lately, I've been wondering
Who will be there to take my place
When I'm gone, you'll need love
To light the shadows on your face
If a great wave should fall
It would fall upon us all
And between the sand and stone
Could you make it on your own?

Wherever You Will Go, The Calling



2058

            The ringing telephone shook her out of her daydream.  She felt the wetness of the tears on her cheeks and wiped them away impatiently.  She'd never been such a crybaby before this.

            "Hello?" she answered the study's extension with an annoyed voice. 

            "Miss Wayne?  Grace?"

            "Yes?"

            "Oh, hi.  It's Ben.  Hudson.  Detective with the GPD.  I interviewed you after the bombing?"

            "What can I do for you Detective?" she asked crossly.  Her insides twisted at the mere mention of the incident.

            "Well I'm sitting in my car outside and thought I'd take you up on your offer."

            "Offer?" she echoed, frowning slightly.

            "You said I could stop by and you'd give me a tour of the, um, you know cave."

            Oh crap.  Did she actually do that?  Did she tell him everything?  It seemed like an eternity since she'd spoken to him, even though it had been only a few days.  But she did remember his warm brown eyes, pleasant smile, and easy-going demeanor.

            "Grace?" he prompted gently.

            "Of course.  Come in.  I'll meet you at the front door."  She dropped the handset back in the cradle, stood up, and walked to the entranceway.  As she opened the door he was mounting the last step.  "Detective Hudson," she greeted mildly.

            With a large grin he replied, "Please, it's just Ben."

            She nodded.  "Very well. Ben."

            She moved aside and allowed him into the house, closing the door behind him.  "Is there anything wrong?" he asked.  "You seem a little…distant."

            "You just caught me at a bad time, with the funeral this morning.  Then again, it's all been bad."  He nodded sympathetically.  "I'm sorry, I actually forgot that I told you about, you know."

            "That's okay.  If it's a problem I can come back, or we can forget the whole thing.  I didn't mean to impose."

            "No, no.  You're not imposing, I just…just…" she sighed and closed her eyes.  Impulsively, he reached to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.  At his touch her eyes flew open and her left hand came up, grabbing his wrist and before he knew what had happened he was flat on the floor feeling the cold of the marble floor seeping through his clothes and skin.

            "Was it something I said?" he groaned.

            "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed and helped him to his feet.  "I'm sorry, but you surprised me."

            "That's okay.  I'm used to dates deflecting my advances, but this is new," he tried joking while massaging his arm.

            "Well come on," she said tersely, and waved for him to follow her.  She paused outside the study then proceeded inside.  He watched her move the hands of the large grandfather clock, pull on one of the pendulums, and then saw it swing effortlessly to the side, revealing a large portal.  Ben could feel the cool, damp air waft around him.  "This way."

            She flipped several switched at the entrance and light flooded the area beneath them then she led him down into a different world.

            "Wow!" he breathed taking in the massive surroundings.  "It's bigger than I ever dreamt it would be."

            "You've dreamt about the Batcave?" she asked him dryly.

            "Hasn't everyone?" he replied with a lopsided grin she found endearing despite herself.

            Ben moved about, investigating everything, mumbling to himself and giving barks of surprise and astonishment.  He touched, smelled, and seemed to absorb all the details like an aficionado at the Louvre.  Grace just stood next to her father's chair, arms folded across her chest, and watched with detached amusement.

            Finally he came around and stood before her.  "This is…is about the most amazing thing I've ever seen."  He looked like a boy who's just received the keys to a candy store.

            "Well I'm glad you liked it."

            "You're not serious about closing it up for good are you?"

            "Yes.  Why shouldn't I?"

            "It's history.  It's important.  Batman's important!"

            "Batman's dead," she said, voice tinted with anger.

            "That doesn't have to be true," he said quietly.

            Grace felt her stomach drop.  "What's that supposed to mean?" she gritted.

            "I mean he's been gone before, and someone else took over.  This could be the same thing."

            "Who?" she asked, heart pounding, hurting.

            "You of course.  You have the training, I learned that first hand."  She shook her head.  "Don't you want to find out who killed your family?" he asked with exasperation.

            "No, I want you to find out who killed my family.  That's your job!"

            He shook his head sadly.  "Grace I'm sorry, but even with what you told me we can't pick up any good leads.  Not without spilling the beans."

            She frowned.  "But I told you, didn't you put it in the report?"

            "No.  Because…"

            "Because you didn't believe me," she scoffed.

            "At first," he agreed.  "But then I figured if you were telling the truth, we should keep it a secret."

            "We?  This is my family we're talking about Ben.  I decide if it stays a secret, if there's going to be another Batman.  Which there isn't," she insisted.

            "I want to tell you something, Grace," he started earnestly.  "My grandmother was part of the GPD years ago and worked with your dad.  She respected him very much, our whole family did.  I became a cop partially to follow in the footsteps of my dad and grandma, but also because of Batman."

            She stared at him, and then licked her lips and ran her fingers through her hair.  "Do you know why my father became Batman?" she asked with an unsteady voice.  He shook his head.  "Because he saw his parents murdered right in front of his eyes.  This is how he coped with his pain.  Does that sound healthy to you?  This is the man you revered, who couldn't even face the simplest emotions.  I am not going to be like that.  I'm going to cry and probably scream and maybe even break a few things, but I will get over it.  I'm not going to bury myself alive down here as penance for surviving!"  By the time she was done the tears fell and her lower lip quivered.   He reached for her, but she backed away.  Swallowing, she asked, "Do you have any idea what my parents' marriage was like?"

              He was startled at the change of conversation.  "Um, well I've seen pictures and they seemed happy."

            "They were.  Sometimes.  But there was a tension, always an undercurrent of unpleasantness.  Bella said they weren't always like that, that they were very happy.  Before, you know."

            "I don't understand."

            "They loved each other.  He loved her; I have to believe that.  It wasn't like the bimbettes that he dealt with just to keep that reputation he cultivated and it wasn't like the other women, the ones that knew, that he actually cared about, but they never worked because, well, he didn't work.  Couldn't take the distractions, felt guilty, who knows.  By the time he met my mom he was already retired, from both jobs.  And she didn't fall at his feet like most women did."  Her words came faster and faster and her hands flew through the air like impatient butterflies.  "They didn't have a thing in common, yet somehow they…worked.  But once she found out what he really was, things changed.  She found out she wasn't his number one priority, and maybe that was selfish, but she had a point.  Don't you think she had a point?"

            "Uh, well, I guess so," he sputtered, confused.

            "Of course she did."  Grace was crying softly now, head bowed. 

            He lifted a hand to touch her, but hesitated, remembering what had happened earlier.  "Grace, they were together for over thirty years and had two beautiful daughters.  I'm sure it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be."

            She looked up at him, eyes wide and bright, and said as if she hadn't even heard him, "It doesn't take a saint to put on that suit."

            "I know."

            "No you don't, you can't possibly know.  It's an obsession that slowly eats away at you, until there's nothing left.  The same thing was happening to Terry, that's why his first marriage didn't work."  She shook her head and chewed on her lip.  "I did it once," she confessed softly.  "I tried it, and failed miserably."

            Ben waited even though he was touched by her pain, torn between wanting to comfort her and discovering all her secrets.

            She turned and walked into the darkness of the cave, over to a crevasse that looked bottomless.  She was unfazed by its endless depths and dropped to the edge, feet dangling down.  Ben hesitated a few feet away.  Without turning she said, "Chicken."

            Gingerly Ben stepped forward and carefully lowered himself down beside her.  "Better?"

            "Not really."  She sighed.  "It wasn't The Suit.  Just a modified Robin costume that my sister had used a few times.  Mom and Dad had insisted Terry and Isabella go on a honeymoon, but you know crime never takes a vacation…"