Snow whips around my face. I shiver and rush into the front door of my
building. Although I've climbed this set of stairs- the stairs to my
apartment- every day of my life, they seem longer and longer as each year
goes by. I finally get up to the top, walk in, and lean back against the
door with a sigh.
"Terry." Mom says crisply, coming out of the kitchen.
That's my salutation now. She says my name like I'm some estranged relative instead of her son.
"Hi Mom." She says nothing else, and sits down on the couch in silence. Lydia gives me a smile from behind the kitchen counter, despite the fact that she looks like she could fall over from exhaustion at any moment.
This is our new arrangement: Lydia lives with us. Matty, who knows what's happened but treats it in the blasé manner of a 10 year old, thinks it's hilarious that my girlfriend is here 24 hours a day.
Well, not really girlfriend anymore. More of a wife, ignoring the fact that we had a month of arguments:
Lydia: I'm not marrying you, McGinnis.
Terry: Why not?
Lydia: You think it's the noble thing to do. It's not. It's a stupid idea.
Terry: How much is it going to take to convince you that I'm not like every other guy on the planet? I'm not doing this because I think I have to. I don't do anything I think I have to do with you.
Lydia: I'm never getting married, McGinnis. Especially not to you.
Terry: Why?
Lydia: Marriage rips people apart.
I practically had to drag her to a justice of the peace, where she calmly said "I do" without any hesitation or fighting. Lydia has to do things her own way.
Mom still sits stiffly on the couch, like she does every night, silent and probably angry. She isn't too happy with the way things are. The fact that I knocked up a girl destroyed the good Terry McGinnis, and now I'm fighting to get rid of the irresponsible gang member she thinks I am again.
Lydia goes from home to a job to night school to bed and then wakes up at 6 am and does it all over again. I go from school to Wayne, who still seems to have no idea that this is going on (taking into account that I haven't got the guts to tell him), and make it home in time to say good night to everyone.
I don't attempt to try and talk to Mom. She just gives me one word answers. I instead go into the kitchen to see Lydia. She stands over the sink, washing dishes mechanically. One thing Mom is not upset about is Lydia. Since she came, Lydia's done every bit of housework this small apartment could possibly have.
"It's freezing out there."
"Do you mean in the snow or in the living room?" Lydia replies, smirking at me.
"Everywhere." I take off my coat, my teeth still chattering a bit. Tonight was pretty tough. Although that suit can make you infallible against blows of any kind, it's not too good at protecting you from the elements.
"What is that?" Lyd says suddenly, soap suds flying as she turns to look at a large bleeding cut on my arm that I almost forgot about.
Pain is part of the job. You learn to ignore it after a while.
"The odds were slightly in their favor." I say in a low voice. Lyd just stares at my arm for a moment, her eyes darting from one scar to another.
No one ever said being Batman was a glamorous job.
I look back at her. Lyd's pregnant form is almost comical because it looks so fake, like she's got some big beach ball shoved under her shirt. But it's real. And I don't think any of us have come to terms with that, despite the fact that next month will be the end of it. Lydia dries her hands and goes into the bedroom. I follow her unspoken command and go after her.
"Are you ever afraid, Terry?" She asks, once we're inside and the door is closed, blocking our conversation from Mom, who wouldn't want to hear even if she could, and Matty, who would hear but not understand.
"Afraid of what?"
"To go out there. To do that every night." No. Not afraid. It's fun, in a smash-your-kneecaps-nails-for-breakfast kind of way. It's redeeming. It's an honor.
Then why do I sometimes feel like I come close to destroying a mantle that isn't entirely mine yet?
"No, not really. If I'm ever afraid, it's fear of disappointing people." I mean everyone I love, but she knows I mean Wayne.
Wayne's health is deteriorating.
He stays in the cave now, hardly ever emerging. It seems like that's the only place he's got left that doesn't make him feel like an old man. He refuses to admit his physical failings to me. I only know because I'm partially Wayne's personal assistant- It's not always a guise to keep me in the suit. Whether the city's in trouble or he's in trouble, I always get a call. Even when I'm taking him home from the hospital, the old man only tells me to shut up and drive. And I do. I don't want to face the fact that he's dying any more than he does.
But Lyd's got the mindset to think about what I can't, and she knows that I'm in over my head if, heaven forbid, something does happen to Wayne.
The phone rings.
"Mr. McGinnis?" The man says, but I already recognize that medical tone. It's the hospital. Irony at its hilt.
"Does he need me to take him home?" For a second the doctor doesn't answer, taken aback by my directness. I just left Wayne in the cave an hour and a half ago. It doesn't say much for his health if he's already back at the hospital.
"Mr. McGinnis, I'm at Wayne Manor. Mr. Wayne would like to request that you come here to attend to him." I sigh.
"Tell him I'll be there as soon as I can." I hang up. Lydia opens the window for me.
"It might be faster if you fly." For once I'm a step ahead of her, and I'm already half into the suit. I pull the mask over my face.
"I'll be back tomorrow." I murmur, kissing her on the cheek.
"Don't rush, McGinnis." She says softly.
**********************************************************
"Mr. Wayne?" I call out, entering the house. Ace comes running to me, but there's no sign of Wayne. No sign of the doctor on the phone either. I go to the cave. Wayne sits in his chair as usual. He looks like he's been nailed there for quite a while, worn out and faded.
"You called?" I say, pulling off my mask.
"Put that back on." He says. I do.
"You're going out there."
"I've already been out there tonight Wayne. Is this what you had some doctor call me all the way back over here for?" Wayne lets his cane fall from the chair. It smacks the stone floor with a resounding crack that makes me jump.
"This is your job Terry. You're going out there." While still firm and threatening, Wayne sounds tired. I decide that arguing with him wouldn't be the best thing to do right now. Especially since his heart could go at any minute. So I go to the car without another word and rocket back into the sky. Gotham lies at my feet. I've been out here every night for almost 2 years, and even now I haven't seen every inch of it, nor know every thread of its gigantic web. I know Wayne does. And that makes me want to know every part of it too.
"So where I am I going?" It takes a moment before Wayne responds.
"Find something." Find something? I've never looked for anything on my own. All I get is "Go here, McGinnis" and I do.
Where do I look? I want to ask Wayne how he expects me to find the trouble that he's so good at locating, but you can't ask Bruce Wayne things like that. So I hover around for awhile, until I see some bruisers hanging around outside a door. Big guys protecting doors usually means there's something you're not supposed to interrupt is going on behind the door. I leap out of the car, flashing the camouflage on and putting my fingers up to the door to listen. I almost laugh at the fact that I'm standing only a couple inches from the two men, and neither one of them realizes I'm there, despite the fact that they can hear my breathing. The voices coming from inside are four separate ones, although there's three that are strong and confident, and a fourth that sounds as though he's got something to hide.
"Boys, I smell a rat. For weeks now we been tryin' to close this import deal with the coke dealers, and every time we been held up." One of them says in a Brooklyn-ish kind of voice. Probably Mafia guys. Although their era died out a long time ago, a couple of them are still around, trying to bring back the glory days. If Lyd were here she'd probably charge into the building and give them a lecture on how they were disgracing her race. Not by being member of organized crime, but by playing up to the stereotypes in the movies. Wayne doesn't give me any instructions. I know he's still there, but for once he's waiting for me to make a move.
"You got any ideas, Luca?" One of them says nastily. You don't have to be a genius to figure out that Luca's the traitor and they know it.
"Someone on the inside I guess." Luca responds, trying to sound just as tough as the others but failing miserably.
"Yeah, someone's been rattin' us out to the cops. Someone who knows every little detail. Someone kinda like you, Luca." I can't see them, but the whimpering of Luca and the click of metal that I hear tells me they've probably got a gun to his head.
Now would probably be a good time to act.
I slam my fist into one of the bruisers. He falls back, completely caught off guard. The other one glances around, having no idea what hit the other. Bruisers aren't usually the most intelligent bunch. The one that fell gets up and shoves the other one, thinking that he hit him. The other shoves back. I don't even have to get rid of them. I slip in through the door and creep slowly around to where the traitor with the gun to his head stands. The guy cocks the gun. I throw a batarang that smacks the gun out of his hand. All four of them stand for a minute staring at it.
Wayne smiles and I can practically hear his normal grunt of approval.
I do my usual stunts: Flipping around in a devil-may-care-fashion until some of the men decide to approach me. I give them some quick punches, uppercuts, kicks to the stomach. These guys have pretty large stomachs, so a couple ones to the gut has them all down quick. Tonight doesn't feel like a night for witty banter, so I do all of this without my usual sarcastic comebacks to their taunts. I feel like I'm out here tonight to accomplish something more, only I don't know what it is. The police show up right on cue, and I take my usual exit into the shadows- no one having seen me at all. I perch on top of a building, breathing hard.
"Now what?" Wayne doesn't answer. He waits until I repeat the question.
"That's entirely up to you, McGinnis." He says, his voice slow and decisive. Up to me? I never decide what to do next. I do what I have to and I keep doing it until he says I can go home. I stare out at the skyline. It's quiet. The city's always quiet once my nights are through. That's usually how I know I can go home.
"I doubt there's anything left out here, boss. Especially after two outings."
"It's your choice, Terry. It's on you now." Wayne says, without any hint of anything in his voice. Almost like he's saying his last rites. I don't bother to ask him what he means by suddenly letting me make my own decisions or trusting me with the way Batman should do things. I go back to the car and begin to fly back to the cave. I begin to second-guess myself- Did I do things right? Did I do them the way Batman would have done them?
Did I do what Wayne would have approved of?
Wayne wouldn't approve of me second-guessing myself: "Don't make decisions twice, McGinnis. Make them right the first time and you won't have to." He's said it a lot. I've doubted myself a lot. I reach the cave and leap out. Wayne still sits in the chair, unmoving and stoic, as he always is.
"You're not going to call me back here a third time, are you?" I say half-jokingly. Wayne doesn't answer.
"Wayne?" Old man's probably asleep. Wouldn't be the first time.
"Hey, Mr. Wayne, wake up." I say, a little louder. Wayne doesn't move. Old man probably had some kind of stroke or something, which will give him another trip to the hospital. He'll love that.
I reach Wayne. He isn't sleeping. Ace is whining at his side. His normal breathing, the heavy lungs taking large gasps of air into the body that can't get enough of it, is hauntingly absent. It's completely silent in the cave.
He didn't have a stroke.
I begin to shake Wayne, calling out his name louder and louder until it's all I can hear, echoing back to me from the caverns above me. I feel my own heart rate rise, my lungs clutching for breath, as I'm sure his did. My head begins to swim. Wayne's eyes are closed. His face is locked in that normal streamlined expression of slight amusement and slight suspicion. He's not going to wake up.
Wayne's dead.
"Terry." Mom says crisply, coming out of the kitchen.
That's my salutation now. She says my name like I'm some estranged relative instead of her son.
"Hi Mom." She says nothing else, and sits down on the couch in silence. Lydia gives me a smile from behind the kitchen counter, despite the fact that she looks like she could fall over from exhaustion at any moment.
This is our new arrangement: Lydia lives with us. Matty, who knows what's happened but treats it in the blasé manner of a 10 year old, thinks it's hilarious that my girlfriend is here 24 hours a day.
Well, not really girlfriend anymore. More of a wife, ignoring the fact that we had a month of arguments:
Lydia: I'm not marrying you, McGinnis.
Terry: Why not?
Lydia: You think it's the noble thing to do. It's not. It's a stupid idea.
Terry: How much is it going to take to convince you that I'm not like every other guy on the planet? I'm not doing this because I think I have to. I don't do anything I think I have to do with you.
Lydia: I'm never getting married, McGinnis. Especially not to you.
Terry: Why?
Lydia: Marriage rips people apart.
I practically had to drag her to a justice of the peace, where she calmly said "I do" without any hesitation or fighting. Lydia has to do things her own way.
Mom still sits stiffly on the couch, like she does every night, silent and probably angry. She isn't too happy with the way things are. The fact that I knocked up a girl destroyed the good Terry McGinnis, and now I'm fighting to get rid of the irresponsible gang member she thinks I am again.
Lydia goes from home to a job to night school to bed and then wakes up at 6 am and does it all over again. I go from school to Wayne, who still seems to have no idea that this is going on (taking into account that I haven't got the guts to tell him), and make it home in time to say good night to everyone.
I don't attempt to try and talk to Mom. She just gives me one word answers. I instead go into the kitchen to see Lydia. She stands over the sink, washing dishes mechanically. One thing Mom is not upset about is Lydia. Since she came, Lydia's done every bit of housework this small apartment could possibly have.
"It's freezing out there."
"Do you mean in the snow or in the living room?" Lydia replies, smirking at me.
"Everywhere." I take off my coat, my teeth still chattering a bit. Tonight was pretty tough. Although that suit can make you infallible against blows of any kind, it's not too good at protecting you from the elements.
"What is that?" Lyd says suddenly, soap suds flying as she turns to look at a large bleeding cut on my arm that I almost forgot about.
Pain is part of the job. You learn to ignore it after a while.
"The odds were slightly in their favor." I say in a low voice. Lyd just stares at my arm for a moment, her eyes darting from one scar to another.
No one ever said being Batman was a glamorous job.
I look back at her. Lyd's pregnant form is almost comical because it looks so fake, like she's got some big beach ball shoved under her shirt. But it's real. And I don't think any of us have come to terms with that, despite the fact that next month will be the end of it. Lydia dries her hands and goes into the bedroom. I follow her unspoken command and go after her.
"Are you ever afraid, Terry?" She asks, once we're inside and the door is closed, blocking our conversation from Mom, who wouldn't want to hear even if she could, and Matty, who would hear but not understand.
"Afraid of what?"
"To go out there. To do that every night." No. Not afraid. It's fun, in a smash-your-kneecaps-nails-for-breakfast kind of way. It's redeeming. It's an honor.
Then why do I sometimes feel like I come close to destroying a mantle that isn't entirely mine yet?
"No, not really. If I'm ever afraid, it's fear of disappointing people." I mean everyone I love, but she knows I mean Wayne.
Wayne's health is deteriorating.
He stays in the cave now, hardly ever emerging. It seems like that's the only place he's got left that doesn't make him feel like an old man. He refuses to admit his physical failings to me. I only know because I'm partially Wayne's personal assistant- It's not always a guise to keep me in the suit. Whether the city's in trouble or he's in trouble, I always get a call. Even when I'm taking him home from the hospital, the old man only tells me to shut up and drive. And I do. I don't want to face the fact that he's dying any more than he does.
But Lyd's got the mindset to think about what I can't, and she knows that I'm in over my head if, heaven forbid, something does happen to Wayne.
The phone rings.
"Mr. McGinnis?" The man says, but I already recognize that medical tone. It's the hospital. Irony at its hilt.
"Does he need me to take him home?" For a second the doctor doesn't answer, taken aback by my directness. I just left Wayne in the cave an hour and a half ago. It doesn't say much for his health if he's already back at the hospital.
"Mr. McGinnis, I'm at Wayne Manor. Mr. Wayne would like to request that you come here to attend to him." I sigh.
"Tell him I'll be there as soon as I can." I hang up. Lydia opens the window for me.
"It might be faster if you fly." For once I'm a step ahead of her, and I'm already half into the suit. I pull the mask over my face.
"I'll be back tomorrow." I murmur, kissing her on the cheek.
"Don't rush, McGinnis." She says softly.
**********************************************************
"Mr. Wayne?" I call out, entering the house. Ace comes running to me, but there's no sign of Wayne. No sign of the doctor on the phone either. I go to the cave. Wayne sits in his chair as usual. He looks like he's been nailed there for quite a while, worn out and faded.
"You called?" I say, pulling off my mask.
"Put that back on." He says. I do.
"You're going out there."
"I've already been out there tonight Wayne. Is this what you had some doctor call me all the way back over here for?" Wayne lets his cane fall from the chair. It smacks the stone floor with a resounding crack that makes me jump.
"This is your job Terry. You're going out there." While still firm and threatening, Wayne sounds tired. I decide that arguing with him wouldn't be the best thing to do right now. Especially since his heart could go at any minute. So I go to the car without another word and rocket back into the sky. Gotham lies at my feet. I've been out here every night for almost 2 years, and even now I haven't seen every inch of it, nor know every thread of its gigantic web. I know Wayne does. And that makes me want to know every part of it too.
"So where I am I going?" It takes a moment before Wayne responds.
"Find something." Find something? I've never looked for anything on my own. All I get is "Go here, McGinnis" and I do.
Where do I look? I want to ask Wayne how he expects me to find the trouble that he's so good at locating, but you can't ask Bruce Wayne things like that. So I hover around for awhile, until I see some bruisers hanging around outside a door. Big guys protecting doors usually means there's something you're not supposed to interrupt is going on behind the door. I leap out of the car, flashing the camouflage on and putting my fingers up to the door to listen. I almost laugh at the fact that I'm standing only a couple inches from the two men, and neither one of them realizes I'm there, despite the fact that they can hear my breathing. The voices coming from inside are four separate ones, although there's three that are strong and confident, and a fourth that sounds as though he's got something to hide.
"Boys, I smell a rat. For weeks now we been tryin' to close this import deal with the coke dealers, and every time we been held up." One of them says in a Brooklyn-ish kind of voice. Probably Mafia guys. Although their era died out a long time ago, a couple of them are still around, trying to bring back the glory days. If Lyd were here she'd probably charge into the building and give them a lecture on how they were disgracing her race. Not by being member of organized crime, but by playing up to the stereotypes in the movies. Wayne doesn't give me any instructions. I know he's still there, but for once he's waiting for me to make a move.
"You got any ideas, Luca?" One of them says nastily. You don't have to be a genius to figure out that Luca's the traitor and they know it.
"Someone on the inside I guess." Luca responds, trying to sound just as tough as the others but failing miserably.
"Yeah, someone's been rattin' us out to the cops. Someone who knows every little detail. Someone kinda like you, Luca." I can't see them, but the whimpering of Luca and the click of metal that I hear tells me they've probably got a gun to his head.
Now would probably be a good time to act.
I slam my fist into one of the bruisers. He falls back, completely caught off guard. The other one glances around, having no idea what hit the other. Bruisers aren't usually the most intelligent bunch. The one that fell gets up and shoves the other one, thinking that he hit him. The other shoves back. I don't even have to get rid of them. I slip in through the door and creep slowly around to where the traitor with the gun to his head stands. The guy cocks the gun. I throw a batarang that smacks the gun out of his hand. All four of them stand for a minute staring at it.
Wayne smiles and I can practically hear his normal grunt of approval.
I do my usual stunts: Flipping around in a devil-may-care-fashion until some of the men decide to approach me. I give them some quick punches, uppercuts, kicks to the stomach. These guys have pretty large stomachs, so a couple ones to the gut has them all down quick. Tonight doesn't feel like a night for witty banter, so I do all of this without my usual sarcastic comebacks to their taunts. I feel like I'm out here tonight to accomplish something more, only I don't know what it is. The police show up right on cue, and I take my usual exit into the shadows- no one having seen me at all. I perch on top of a building, breathing hard.
"Now what?" Wayne doesn't answer. He waits until I repeat the question.
"That's entirely up to you, McGinnis." He says, his voice slow and decisive. Up to me? I never decide what to do next. I do what I have to and I keep doing it until he says I can go home. I stare out at the skyline. It's quiet. The city's always quiet once my nights are through. That's usually how I know I can go home.
"I doubt there's anything left out here, boss. Especially after two outings."
"It's your choice, Terry. It's on you now." Wayne says, without any hint of anything in his voice. Almost like he's saying his last rites. I don't bother to ask him what he means by suddenly letting me make my own decisions or trusting me with the way Batman should do things. I go back to the car and begin to fly back to the cave. I begin to second-guess myself- Did I do things right? Did I do them the way Batman would have done them?
Did I do what Wayne would have approved of?
Wayne wouldn't approve of me second-guessing myself: "Don't make decisions twice, McGinnis. Make them right the first time and you won't have to." He's said it a lot. I've doubted myself a lot. I reach the cave and leap out. Wayne still sits in the chair, unmoving and stoic, as he always is.
"You're not going to call me back here a third time, are you?" I say half-jokingly. Wayne doesn't answer.
"Wayne?" Old man's probably asleep. Wouldn't be the first time.
"Hey, Mr. Wayne, wake up." I say, a little louder. Wayne doesn't move. Old man probably had some kind of stroke or something, which will give him another trip to the hospital. He'll love that.
I reach Wayne. He isn't sleeping. Ace is whining at his side. His normal breathing, the heavy lungs taking large gasps of air into the body that can't get enough of it, is hauntingly absent. It's completely silent in the cave.
He didn't have a stroke.
I begin to shake Wayne, calling out his name louder and louder until it's all I can hear, echoing back to me from the caverns above me. I feel my own heart rate rise, my lungs clutching for breath, as I'm sure his did. My head begins to swim. Wayne's eyes are closed. His face is locked in that normal streamlined expression of slight amusement and slight suspicion. He's not going to wake up.
Wayne's dead.