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 XX

Alfred appeared on the monitor that acted as an intercom between the house and the cave. "Her highness has arrived, Master Bruce."

Bruce knew that -- the sensors around the house tracked anyone coming into the area. He'd been keeping an eye on them for more than an hour now, wondering when she would arrive. Her shift at the clinic had ended at three, and it was almost four. "Show her to the cave when she's finished in the library, Alfred."

The butler nodded. "Very good, sir."

The monitor darkened as Alfred broke the connection, and Bruce forced himself back to work, trying not to be distracted by thoughts of the woman in his house, or memories of the night before.

It didn't work. The cave suddenly seemed full of intriguing possibilities that he could try when she got down there -- his chair, the medtables, maybe even the Batmobile…

He shook his head, made himself concentrate. He analyzed DNA for one of the murder cases he was working on, updated his files. It was past five when he looked at the clock, frowned.

He considered tapping into the intercom in the library, suggesting a few books for her to speed her along. He could do it in his impatient Batman voice so that she wouldn't realize he just wanted her in the cave as quickly as possible -- she would just think he was being his normal, abrupt self.

Or…the library was full of possibilities as well. Tables, chairs, sheepskin rugs in front of the fireplace…

He stood, but before he could turn to go Jason appeared beside him.

"Bruce…" The young man stared up at him through the Robin mask, his eyes brilliant with emotion. "I just wanted you to know that you were a good father to me."

Bruce sucked in a harsh breath. "Jason…you were a good son. And partner."

Jason smiled, then looked behind Bruce at the large computer screen. "Don't treat her too harshly, afterwards. She is doing this because she loves you."

Bruce's eyebrows drew together in confusion, and he turned to look at the screen. "What are you--"

The monitor filled with Diana's visage, then she moved backward, and Bruce could see the interior of the library, the medical items laid out on the table, Alfred reclining on the sofa behind her.

Her lips were slightly blue, and her hands trembled.

Bruce slammed the speaker button so that she could hear him, see him. "Diana, are you all right? Alfred? Were you attacked by the ghosts?"

Her voice shook from the tremors that wracked her body, but her gaze never wavered from his. "No. We've induced hypothermia in me so that I have a better chance of being brought back, like a drowning victim in icy water. It slows the process of death." She paused, gestured toward Alfred. "Alfred is fine as well -- I put him to sleep using pressure points, so that he couldn't stop me or try to warn you before we were ready." She smiled a little. "Or bring me back too soon."

"Bring you back?" he repeated, horror and realization dawning.

"We've calculated that it will take about two minutes for me to clinically die, but not long enough for irreversible brain damage to occur if you bring me back before four minutes," she said softly. "That's just enough time for you to run from the cave to the library, and to save me."

We? Bruce noticed for the first time, on the edges of the monitor, the apparitions that flickered in and out of focus, as if the electronic signal couldn't carry their image. Innocents -- Roxana; Jim Gordon's wife, Sarah; countless others who had been victims of the criminals of Gotham City, all whom he'd been unable to help, or too late to help.

He leaned forward, his voice urgent, trying to keep his fear from showing. "Diana, you can't do this--"

She touched the monitor with her fingers, and he imagined her stroking his image on the small screen in the library. He could almost feel her touch. "Bruce, I can. I'm the only one who can do it, who can survive it. The curse needs to be broken, or eventually you will be victim to it."

His mind raced, searching for some way to stop her. He made his words cold, harsh. "Diana, you can't lift this curse. It has to be lifted by one of my loved ones. You can only see the ghosts because you are 'sensitive to magic'" He spat the last words out as if the idea disgusted him. His face was an emotionless mask as he said, "I don't love you, Diana. I couldn't ever love you."

Her hand falling away from the screen, she smiled sadly. "Liar," she said softly. She took a deep breath, added, "In a moment I'm going to hit three pressure points in myself -- one to stop my breathing, the other to stop my heart, the last to knock me unconscious so that I can't help myself if I start to panic."

"Diana--"

She interrupted him. "I've got the defibrillator, an oxygen mask, lidocaine--and everything else you might need--with detailed instructions laid out for you behind me."

His throat was so tight his next words were whispered. "Diana, please don't do this."

She hesitated, and her eyes filled with tears as she looked him directly in the eyes. "I love you, Bruce."

She held his gaze for a moment, while he stared at her helplessly. Then, with stiffened fingers, she jabbed at her neck twice, her chest once. She fell to the ground, out of sight of the monitor.

"Diana!" He shouted her name even as he turned, taking off at a run, his heart pounding.

Jason followed close behind him.

Part XXI

Bruce calculated and recalculated the fastest route to the library, forcing down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. Up the stairs to the main house, down the northwest corridor, up the three flights of stairs to the fourth floor, then back up the corridor on that floor until he got to the library – he was halfway to the main house when he cursed himself softly – he hadn't brought a grappling, which would have cut down the time by at least twenty five or thirty seconds, allowing him to bypass the stairs and hallways, shooting a line from the bottom floor of the main hall up to the fourth floor.

He reached the main house: thirty seconds had passed. Her image flashed in front of his eyes as he sprinted down the hallway, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors.

I love you, Bruce.

Forty five seconds, and he was on the first flight of stairs. He was pushing himself to the limit, but his breathing was even, his muscles moving perfectly, fluidly. His body wasn't going to betray him—

—even if she had.

She is doing this because she loves you.

Second flight of stairs, and he tried to force any thoughts of betrayal and love from his mind. The only thing that mattered was getting to her, stopping her from dying.

He reached the top of the third flight of stairs, turned…and skidded to a halt. Jason stopped next to him, and together they looked at the ghosts crowding the hallway.

You couldn't save us, you won't save her…

Your torment won't end this easily…

Your time has come, Batman. We've waited for this moment for a long time…

There were at least a hundred, maybe two, swarming in the corridor, their faces leering at Bruce, their ghostly blood and gore dripping onto the carpet in a stain only Bruce could see. He tried to see a way around them, over them – and realized that he would have to go through them. Jason wouldn't be able to fight them all, not quickly enough for Bruce to get to Diana.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and ran forward.

It was like being dropped into icy water; his legs, arms immediately felt heavy but he continued to plow through them, his hands and face numbing quickly. He heard Jason shouting behind him, but couldn't make sense of his words.

He could tell that he was slowing down, and he ground his teeth together and pushed on, the freezing air burning his lungs, his eyes watering.

His numb feet slipped on the floor, and he fell, but he still crawled forward. "Diana…" They were both going to die, and for a moment he almost welcomed it.

I love you, Bruce.

He forced himself to his feet again, then realized that something was happening around him. The ghosts were backing away from him, distracted by something. Bruce felt the warmth returning to his extremities as they dispersed, and in a glance, he saw what was taking place – the innocents, led by Jason, were fighting the ghostly criminals.

It was you, you shot me and my boy. Why?

I was just standing there, I would have given you my purse!

Some of the innocents singled out, fought the ones who had killed them – others simply pounded on any available opponent.

Jason was in the middle, fighting five or six at a time, a smile on his face. He paused in the middle of a kick, saw Bruce, and shouted, "Go!"

One minute thirty seconds. It felt as if he had been in the middle of the ghosts for much longer than fifteen seconds, but the feeling was quickly returning to his body, the icy sensation easing away from his limbs.

Five more seconds and he burst through the library entrance, took in the situation in one glance: Alfred on the couch, the medical supplies laid out neatly, waiting for him – Diana, convulsing on the floor, her body seizing from the lack of oxygen.

And his parents, looking at him with expectant expressions on their faces.