Haunted
Ugly_Girl (mickerella@yahoo.com)
Disclaimers: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em. The only real crime I'm committing is the overuse of adverbs, and ending far too many sentences with prepositions.
HAUNTED
Part XIII (I suppose in a ghost story the thirteenth chapter should be the scariest – but, um, not in this ghost story.)
"Diana, will you help me lift him into this tank?" Leslie adjusted the breathing mask over Bruce's mouth and nose, making sure it fit snugly.
Diana slid her arms under Bruce's legs and shoulders, lifting him cautiously, trying not to disturb or dislodge the monitoring wires that Leslie had applied to his skin. He was still cold, and she tried not to shiver, tried not to let her worry show on her face as his skin came in contact with hers.
She slid him into the ten foot tall cylindrical tank full of a liquid gel designed to gently raise his body temperature. She watched him carefully as his head went under; but the monitors indicated that his breathing was fine – the oxygen mask was keeping out the liquid.
Leslie watched Diana watch Bruce, and a small smile stretched her lips. "He'll be alright, Diana. He's strong, and even if he wasn't, his stubbornness would heal him faster than his strength."
Diana laid her palm flat against the glass of the tank, never taking her eyes from him. "But he's not as strong as he usually is, Leslie. Lately, he's been getting almost no sleep, and is constantly tormented by these ghosts, by the appearance of the Waynes." Upon arriving at the manor, Leslie had seen two of them in the grand hall – as she had worked over Bruce, Diana had filled both of them in on the information that she'd received from Uzana, and also apprised Leslie of the real reason behind the invitation Diana had received at the fundraiser.
Leslie and Alfred could both see the ghosts – it gave Diana some comfort to know that there was a network of support and love around Bruce. She was sure that if Batman's other associates were here, they would also see the ghosts – Oracle, Nightwing, Robin.
The new Robin, Diana remembered, thinking of Jason Todd.
"Is he okay?" Jason said from beside her. Leslie jumped visibly, but Diana didn't tear her eyes away from the man in the tank.
"He will be," Diana said forcefully, as if her words might make it true.
"Jason…" Leslie shook her head wonderingly. "They told me, but I guess I didn't really believe it until I saw you."
Jason grinned. "Yep, it's me. Back from the dead and all that," he joked, then his face became serious. "You should get him out of here – I can hear them planning. They are going to come for him, and I'm not sure that this tank can help him if they converge on him in a big group again."
Diana frowned. "It will be difficult to move him to the Watchtower safely without possibly compromising his identity." She couldn't imagine him wearing his uniform in the tank. Maybe a mask of some sort, though—
"Not to mention his stability and health," Leslie added, and Diana discarded the idea of a mask, of moving him unless absolutely necessary. His health was more important than his identity—although she knew Bruce would disagree.
The decision was taken out of her hands, though, when an apparition appeared beside her, reached his hand through the tank. Diana reached for him ineffectually, her hands passing through his form.
Another appeared, and another.
"Go up to the mansion and get Alfred," Diana said to Leslie. "We've got to move him." Leslie took off at a run toward the stairs leading to the manor.
The tank was soon surrounded by the ghosts, and Diana flew up to escape the bitter cold they brought with them, hovering over the tank. She dipped her hands into the liquid just as the first spectre pushed into the tank. She grasped Bruce's shoulders, under his arms, trying to find a grip in the slippery substance. One of them passed through Bruce, then another, and Diana could feel the coldness in her hands.
She heard Jason shout, and then he was in the tank, too – and one of the ghosts stumbled back as if he'd been kicked.
Which he had, Diana realized with some amazement. Jason had kicked him.
Her eyes locked with the young boy's, and they shared a glance of surprise and triumph. Diana pulled Bruce up, out of the ghosts' reach but not quite out of the liquid.
Jason went to work.
Although there were more – many more – ghosts trying to get to Bruce, and just one Jason, each only had the fighting abilities that they'd possessed during life.
And Jason had been trained by the Bat.
Diana could see the smile on the former Robin's face as he whirled and kicked, pushing the apparitions further and further from the tank. Alfred and Leslie stopped short as they entered the cave, caught by the sight of the young man in the Robin suit keeping the large group of ghosts at bay.
Their number was diminishing, Diana quickly saw. They hadn't expected opposition, and knowing that most criminals were cowards in life, it didn't surprise Diana that they were tucking their tails and running in death.
It wouldn't last long, however – that Diana was sure of. Right now, Jason had the element of surprise on his side. They wouldn't be as lucky next time, when the ghosts regrouped and tried again.
But at least they had some hope, now. If Jason could fight them, then surely there was also some other way of fighting them as well.
*********************
"Did you see that? POW!" Jason paced excitedly back and forth, reliving the fight with the ghosts. "BAM! That old mobster Minov never knew what hit him."
Diana smiled. "You did wonderfully." She pulled Bruce from the tank, placed his dripping form on the medical table. She and Leslie began rubbing the gel from him with soft towels. "I don't know why I didn't realize that the ghosts could affect each other before – I saw Thomas and Martha touching. I should have realized that you'd have an effect on them physically."
Jason laughed, continued to punch the air. "I didn't even know, and I am one." He turned and winked at her. "Don't be so hard on yourself."
"You are being extremely cheeky, young man," Alfred reproached him, but there was a glint in his eye that echoed the boy's humor.
The butler's reprimand had some effect, though, as Jason gave Diana an abashed grin. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wink at you." Then he turned to Alfred. "I can't believe that you are still telling me how to behave when I'm dead." His voice was playful.
Alfred raised a haughty brow. "Propriety has its place no matter the state of the being," he intoned.
Jason rolled his eyes, and Leslie laughed. "And young teenage boys will resist any attempt to civilize them, no matter the state of the being," she said. She and Alfred shared a warm look, and Diana had to avert her eyes, feeling as if she was intruding on some special moment. She concentrated on wiping the last of the gel from Bruce's body, trying not to feel the texture of his skin under her fingers.
In seconds, however, Leslie was all business again. She covered Bruce up, glanced from Jason to Diana to Alfred. "It should be alright to move him now," she said. "His temperature has stabilized – it is still slightly low, but he's out of the danger zone." She pulled off her gloves. "He'll probably sleep for a couple of hours, at the very least. Are you going to move him to the Watchtower?"
Diana looked at Alfred, who gave a slight nod. "Yes," she said. "The medical lab there is fully equipped, and J'onn should be able to help me monitor him." She watched the rise and fall of Bruce's chest under the blanket, remembered his state of undress. "We'll need to dress him in something first – and provide some kind of mask for … him…"
She trailed off as Alfred somehow produced a pair of sweats and a soft cotton mask seemingly from nowhere. "I've also taken the liberty of preparing a case with his suit, your highness," Alfred said. "Once he wakes up, I'm sure he'll want to slip into something more comfortable."
Leslie chuckled and Jason grinned, but Diana didn't understand the joke.
"Man's World," she muttered; but her eyes were tender as she looked at the man on the table.
*******************
J'onn connected the last of the wires to the monitor, checked the readout, and sat down beside the hospital bed. He popped an Oreo in his mouth and watched Diana, who had hovered over Batman since she'd brought him up to the Watchtower.
He'll be okay, Diana, J'onn said, choosing to speak telepathically rather than spray cookie crumbs from his mouth.
Diana sighed. "I know, J'onn. He will this time, at least." She reached forward, stroked her fingers along the back of Bruce's hand. "But how long can one boy keep back a horde of ghosts intent on killing him? When I found him the other night, on that roof, there were hundreds there – today Robin only fought about twenty-five. He needs help if he's going to take on more," Diana said. She had confided in J'onn about the situation at the Wayne residence and the curse – J'onn already knew Batman's identity, and he could probably have gleaned the rest of the information from her mind, but she offered it freely instead.
J'onn chewed thoughtfully. You've said that the only ghosts down there were the ghosts of criminals that had died. Where were the innocents?
Frowning, Diana said, "What do you mean?" But even before she finished the sentence, she knew. "Batman feels guilt for everyone – those criminals that die, but also the innocents caught in the crossfire, or that he couldn't save," she realized. "But the only ones I've seen have been his parents, Robin and Roxana."
Perhaps they are like Roxana, remaining with their families instead of tormenting Bruce – the criminals are probably doing that just because they can, J'onn said, But the innocents who don't blame Batman, don't hate him wouldn't try to kill him.
Diana snapped her fingers, began walking back and forth as she thought. "If we can contact these others, they might buy Batman some time." She shook her head, thinking about how little time that probably was. "But how long will it be before it gets to him? Or they get to him? Batman won't like accepting help from the innocent ghosts. Or before the constant barrage of hauntings wears him down? Or even until one of the criminal ghosts finds a spiritual medium who can see him, and reveals his identity to the world?"
She stopped, looked down at Bruce again. "There has to be a way to break the curse. There has to be."
And we'll think of one, Diana. J'onn rose from his chair, took Diana's hand, began leading her toward the door. He swallowed the Oreo currently in his mouth, and said, "But right now you should get some rest. Maybe an idea will come to you if you don't focus on it so much," J'onn added. "I can take care of things here, and I'll let you know when or if there is any change in his condition."
Diana nodded tiredly. "Maybe you are right, J'onn." She glanced back at Bruce, sleeping on the bed. "I hate to leave him, though," she said.
J'onn hid a smile, pushed her gently through the door. "He'll be here when you get back, all in one loveable piece."
She gave him a strange look, and he shut the door in her face, chuckling. Human relationships were so fascinating, he thought. Not to mention entertaining.
**************
Diana paced her room, unable to sleep. She wanted to go back into the medlab, but forced herself to stay away. Bruce was sleeping, and there was nothing for her to do there but hover over him and bother J'onn.
Desperate for something to do, she dialed in the code for the speaker to Shayera's room. Maybe Hawkgirl would like to…
A male voice answered. "Hello?" Diana immediately recognized John's voice. Her brow furrowed. Why would GL be in Shayera's room at this time of night?
"John? Is Shayera there? Is she alright? Why are you in…" Diana suddenly realized why. "Oh," she said, a blush staining her cheeks.
She heard Shayera's voice in the background. "You answered my phone??? Are you an idiot?" There were sounds of a scuffle, and a thud, then Shayera's voice came clearly through the speaker. "Uh, hi, Di. What's up?"
Diana tried not to giggle, thought of an excuse to get off the phone quickly. "Nothing, Shy. Was just wondering if you'd seen tonight's episode of Buffy, but I'll catch up with you later." She disconnected and sat down on her bed, grinning. Diana had never been intimate with a man herself, but she was no prude; she was deliriously happy that her friend was able to be with a man she respected as much as she did GL. Although, she thought, remembering the sounds of the scuffle and the thud when Shayera had taken over the phone, their relationship was probably going to be very tumultuous.
Would a relationship with Bruce be like that? Diana wondered before she could stop herself. She couldn't imagine that it would be boring, that was for certain.
Not that, she told herself, he'd let himself into a relationship.
She sighed, but didn't examine why that thought bothered her. Looking for something to distract herself with, her eyes caught the book lying on her nightstand, the collection of Shakespearian plays that Alfred had lent her.
She picked up the heavy volume, remembered that Martha Wayne had suggested Romeo and Juliet. She turned to that play, began reading, and despite her concern for Bruce was soon enthralled by the story.
Two hours later, she put the book down with a heavy sigh. It had been a beautiful play, but so very tragic. If only, she thought, Juliet had made sure that Romeo knew of their plan, so that he wouldn't panic, wouldn't think that she was really dead. If only Romeo had waited a little longer. And if only, Diana added with a small, ironic smile, they'd had modern medical technology that could have saved them. A stab wound, poison…deadly, sure, but nowadays they were bringing people back from near death – even after death -- all the time…
Diana sat up like a shot.
"Oh, great Hera," she whispered. "That's the answer…" Martha and Thomas must have picked that play to give her the idea.
But who would it be? She couldn't risk such a maneuver with Alfred or Leslie – they were strong and spry for their age, but…no, she'd never take that chance. And if something went wrong with Nightwing or Oracle or Robin she could never forgive herself. She wouldn't even consider putting them in that danger.
But herself – Diana knew she was resilient, and if anyone could pull it off, it would be her. She'd have to set it up perfectly, though, take her time.
She could do it, she resolved. It all depended on one thing:
Could she simply see the ghosts because she was magically sensitive? Or was it a mutual love that she and Bruce shared? She remembered that Uzana had said that it didn't have to be romantic love, but the bond of love between friends would work. She knew she loved him as a friend – maybe more.
Definitely more, she admitted to herself.
But the real question was: did Bruce feel love for her?
Part XIV
"You've gotten into the habit of rescuing me, Princess."
Diana looked away from the machine that had been monitoring his pulse rate, trying her best not to let her relief show on her face. Dr. Thompkins had said that a coma might be possible after such an extreme decrease in body temperature, but he was already awake.
"I didn't rescue you this time," she said honestly. "I just provided the transportation." She sat down on the chair next to his bed. "It was actually Alfred, Jason and Leslie."
She couldn't tell if his expression changed under the soft mask he was wearing when she said Jason's name. "And my prognosis?"
"Good. All of your vitals are at normal levels." she replied. "How do you feel?"
"Fine," he said.
She waited for him to sit up, to be his usual stubborn self and demand release from the medical lab, but he simply lay there, watching her. "Are you sure you are fine?" she wondered.
"Yes."
She waited again. Finally, exasperated, she said, "Jason can fight the other ghosts."
That surprised him; she could tell by the way that his lips relaxed for a microsecond. "Was he injured?" he asked, and then a strange expression passed over the visible part of his face, as if he'd just realized how odd it was to wonder if a ghost had been hurt.
"No," Diana said, smiling. "You taught him well. He held his own against twenty-five of them."
Bruce nodded slowly. "But…?"
Diana sighed, wishing he hadn't focused so quickly on the negative side of the news. "But, he also had the element of surprise – next time I don't think they will be beaten as easily. Especially if they are in a larger group." She paused, then added. "At least you'll be better protected than you were."
He remained silent for a moment, then finally sat up, pulling the monitoring wires from his skin as he did.
"I went to go see Uzana Costache," Diana announced.
He stopped. "I wondered when you would tell me."
"You knew?" She didn't wait for confirmation, but muttered to herself, "Of course he knew."
"I knew." His lips twitched.
"Then you don't need me to tell you what she said, since you probably know that, too," Diana said, leaning back in the chair, crossing her arms.
"No," he said. "I know where you go when you are in Gotham, but I don't monitor you quite that closely."
Unsure of whether to be offended or flattered by any monitoring at all, Diana opened her mouth to reply, then had no idea what she was going to say. A little flustered, she blurted, "Well, then ask me what Uzana said." An impish voice made her add, "Ask nicely."
Bruce gave her a long stare, then turned his attention to removing the rest of the wires, then the I.V on the back of his hand.
She swatted his hand away, began removing it for him. Knowing him, she thought, he'd probably just rip it out. She pulled the I.V. out gently, letting her hands linger on his skin, her fingers against his palms. Once it was unattached, she sat back in her chair again. She crossed her legs, began to hum.
He gave her another long stare, then looked around. Spying the bag Alfred had packed for him on an adjoining counter, he grabbed it, opened it, revealing his Batsuit.
This time there was a challenge in the stare he gave her. He didn't even glance toward the dressing room, but pulled off the makeshift mask, then his sweatshirt, his eyes locked with hers continuously. Her smile never wavered, her eyes didn't wander.
She heard the slide of his sweatpants down his legs, and she admired his ability to remove them without breaking eye contact with her.
She couldn't resist. She stole a glance downward, and immediately looked back up, a blush staining her cheeks.
He smirked.
"You just have to ask nicely." She practically growled the words.
He winked, and began pulling on his suit pants. "You, too."
Her eyes widened, her blush deepened. "You are impossible."
"So I've been told." All trace of playfulness disappeared from his voice then, and he added, "Costache."
She watched his chest disappear under the bat symbol of his suit tunic, had to bite back a sigh, concentrate on what she was supposed to be talking about. "The people who can break the curse are the ones who can see the ghosts – so far that is Leslie, Alfred, and me…maybe."
He raised an eyebrow, then his face was covered by the mask.
"Uzana could see the ghosts as well, but she claimed it was because she was magically sensitive. The others – Alfred, Leslie – can see them because you share a bond of love with them. I imagine that Nightwing and Robin could see them, too."
Batman was silent.
"The curse explicitly stated that it would only be broken when you lost a loved one – Uzana couldn't reverse the curse, or find a way around that stipulation." She took a deep breath, then said, "And she is also not sure if I can see them – I might be magically sensitive, or it might be because of our friendship, a shared love."
She held that breath, watching him, hoping he'd reply. Wanting him to say that it was one or the other, so that she would know whether her plan would work.
He simply looked at her, then nodded. "So you didn't find out anything useful."
She knew he didn't mean to be cruel; he was just being blunt. "No," she said. "Except that there are many, many more ghosts than have been showing themselves to you. The innocents. Roxana, Uzana's granddaughter, was there. We think that there are probably many more who are with their families instead of trying to kill you."
"Let them stay with their families," Batman said, and swept past her, heading for the door.
"They might be able to help protect you, Batman," Diana called after him.
He didn't answer, as she knew he wouldn't. The door slid silently shut behind him.
She drew her hand through her hair with a sigh. She hadn't found out what she'd wanted to: if the reason she could see them was due to their friendship, and her love. She should have known he wouldn't reveal that information.
There had to be some way of knowing, though. She thought he might, but she couldn't trust her own instincts about these things in Man's World. People thought, acted so differently than on Themyscira.
But she knew of at least one person whom she could ask.
