Terry sat on the table behind Max and Bruce. Bruises swelled and darkened
his arms, chest, back and legs. Silently, he watched as images from his vid
link flashed on the large monitor.
".you can see that from the impact signatures. Maybe they're using synaptic enhancers, like the Batsuit's?" Max watched Bruce's face as he sat back and thought.
"You're probably right. In fact, I hope you are. And now," he half-smirked, "you get to check the other data for any inconsistencies." Terry saw Max's face brighten momentarily from the old man's approval. Bruce watched her for a moment as she let the data scroll down the monitor, and sink into her brain.
Terry was relieved that they finally got along. It took some time for them to get used to one another's forceful personalities. However, the turning point came when Max realized just what a brilliant mind Bruce Wayne possessed. For someone of Max's intelligence, most academic challenges were short-lived, even at MIT. But Bruce not only kept up with her, but he'd even push her further. Max thrived with the stimulation, and Bruce didn't seem to mind challenging her. Terry sometimes wondered if this mental attraction would ever become something more, but he'd quickly banish the thought from consciousness - the mental image creeped him out. Terry looked up as he heard the older man approach. Bruce leaned on the table next to Terry.
"That buy really worked you. Will you need anything for that?" he gestured at the large, swollen lump on his ribcage.
"It's just bruises - nothing broken. The real question of the day is, who's idea was it to send Max out?" To this, Bruce returned Terry's gaze evenly.
"She suggested it, and I approved it." He paused, and added neutrally," do you see a problem?"
"Well, not if you don't count endangering an inexperienced fighter," he retorted, and started again. "I know I got roughed up out there, but what if he got Max, too? She'd have no chance," Terry's eyes weren't angry, but sincere with concern for his friend. He knew she wanted to be Batgirl ever since she got a taste for it; however, that was something Terry never wanted to face. Bruce shifted his weight, and turned his eyes toward Max. She was still wearing the black Kevlar bodysuit, the balaclava pushed back on her shoulders.
"I'm with you on that," he said quietly. "I think she has something to prove to herself, and that's the wrong reason to be in - this business," he half-smiled. "But you brought her in, and now we have to deal with that. Besides your fear of her getting hurt or killed, she will need years of physical training before even being ready to patrol." He paused, still watching Max work the console. "If anything, she belongs here, in the Batcave. With her gifts and some more training, she'd be an amazing Oracle. Now, the real question of the day is," Bruce looked directly into his protégé's blue eyes, "how will she accept that truth?" Terry let out a long sigh. He didn't want to lose Max, but he knew Bruce was right. It figures that Bruce would leave this on my shoulders, he thought.
"Who knew being Batman would give me managerial skills?" The older man couldn't resist a smile.
"Now you know. And - I'm just the consultant," he returned, walking back to the console.
++++++++++++
It started as fatigue - he never felt sleepy in the afternoons before. Then he noticed more symptoms, like the swelling in his wrists and ankles. Bruce Wayne's kidneys were failing.
Because of his weakened heart, many, less invasive treatments were ruled out. Bruce needed dialysis, at first every third week, and then more often. He was now going in weekly for the four-hour procedure.
Terry smiled at the nurses as he passed their station, on his way to Wayne's room, Room 6A. A pretty brunette named Staci was finishing up with him. She left the room, smiling broadly, as Terry entered. Terry waited until Staci was out of earshot. "Did I interrupt something?" he couldn't resist jabbing the old guy now and then.
"Hardly," he scoffed. "I'm probably older than her grandparents." Bruce sat up slowly, and rubbed his arm. "Getting old is a bitch, McGinnis. I don't recommend it." Terry smiled as he helped his mentor up.
"Oh but the wonders of medicine. Just hook up an IV of Viagra, and you'll be fine. I think Nurse Staci would gladly hump your leg right now with the right encouragement." Bruce shot Terry a look that silenced him instantly. He did notice, though, that Bruce was smiling.
They headed back to the manor in silence. After several minutes, Bruce spoke.
"Terry, I need to know. What are your plans for Batman after I'm gone?" Bruce kept his gaze straight ahead, face placid.
"Man, you really know how to kill a good mood," Terry joked. He absolutely didn't want to talk about death today. Not Bruce's.
"I'm serious, McGinnis," he snapped back, undeterred. "We need to discuss this, now." He started again. "What are your plans? And tell me the truth." Terry sighed heavily and searched for the right words.
"It's part of my life. I love being Batman, but sometimes I hate how it complicates things - it's so demanding, you know?" The older man listened patiently. "Being able to help so many people is great. There's nothing like it. But there's more. I mean, it began as a sort of redemption for past sins. But now, after so long, it's like a habit. Going out every night, seeing the dirtier part of life. it's hard, but I still like it. Maybe I've been doing it so long that I don't know what else I'd do." Bruce smiled slightly, remembering the punk kid who stole the Batsuit only six years earlier. How far they've both come since those early days.
"And Dana?" the older man asked neutrally. "Does she like it?"
"Well I can't say that she liked it," Terry answered with a half-smile, "I think she wished I'd have a desk job, but that's really not my style anyway. If I weren't doing this, maybe I'd be a cop, or a paramedic, and she'd still be scared every night I go to work." But it couldn't be that simple, Bruce thought. It never was when women were involved.
"Dana and I, we're saving up to get married next year." Here it comes, Bruce thought. "I know she wants to have kids, and that might complicate things. But I don't see why I can't still be Batman. I mean cops, soldiers and firefighters all have kids, too." They wound up the two-lane pass, and the familiar roofline of Wayne Manor appeared at the horizon. "I just can't figure out what I'd way at Career Day." Bruce had to laugh.
"Did you know that, because of work-related stress, police families have the highest incidence of substance abuse and divorce, compared to all other professions?" Bruce asked quietly. "Dana has good reason not to like it. Listen McGinnis," Bruce faced his successor squarely, "your responsibility is to your family, not to me. Batman was my private crusade; one that you are not obligated to continue. In fact," the old man paused for emphasis, "it would be selfish of you to continue if it harmed your family life." Terry could only nod. As nerve-wracking as these past moments were, Terry was somewhat relieved by the original Batman's words. He stopped the car, and helped his mentor get out. "Tonight's plan is recon only. I don't want you getting in too close until Max can give you the edge." Terry just nodded wordlessly. Good, he thought. He was still limping slightly.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Batman glided high above Cuvier's lab, like a vulture over a dying snake. The cloaking device was on. He took his time, both to check for sentries, and to acclimate he to the suit's new feel. Max and Bruce worked feverishly earlier that day to add a gel-like coat over the Batsuit. They guessed that whomever attacked Terry the night before was using infrared vision. This get was to lessen any heat readings, and lower the external heat of the suit to mirror the ambient temperature. Terry hoped it would work, still achy.
Batman circled lower and lower. He steeled himself when he counted one, two, three sentries like the one from last night. He'd have to work quickly. He had ten recording devices, and three video transmitters to plant. He could feel the sentries gaze pass over him, and although they didn't seem to notice him, it didn't put him at ease. He practically flew around the perimeter of the building, barely pausing to plant the transmitters. Within a minute, he was done and on his way back. He wanted to talk to Dana.
"Hello?" he could hear her washing dishes in the background.
"Hey beautiful," he responded. "You too tired for a visit tonight?"
"No, come over!" she paused. "Um, are you flying over, or what?"
"What. I can't let Jokerz know where to find Batman, right? Kind of a security breach." He could see her apartment building just below as he continued on to Wayne Manor.
"Ohh. Well, I guess you're right. what about the cloaking thing?" Terry was curious.
"Are you really impatient tonight, or do you have a thing for the Batsuit, Dane?" he joked. She laughed nervously. Yep, it was the Batsuit. "Ohhh, are you feeling bad tonight, is that it?" More nervous laughter.
"No!" she managed. Dana paused again. Although she lived alone, she lowered her voice as if to tell a secret. "Um, if you're not going to drive over, then, um, can you at least do the voice for me?" Terry nearly fell out of the sky. Don't laugh, he commanded himself. There would be no action tonight if he laughed at Dana.
He cleared his throat. "You want it right now?" he said in his best gruff voice. All he heard on the other end was Dana's breath, drawn in between her teeth, and then a moan.
".you can see that from the impact signatures. Maybe they're using synaptic enhancers, like the Batsuit's?" Max watched Bruce's face as he sat back and thought.
"You're probably right. In fact, I hope you are. And now," he half-smirked, "you get to check the other data for any inconsistencies." Terry saw Max's face brighten momentarily from the old man's approval. Bruce watched her for a moment as she let the data scroll down the monitor, and sink into her brain.
Terry was relieved that they finally got along. It took some time for them to get used to one another's forceful personalities. However, the turning point came when Max realized just what a brilliant mind Bruce Wayne possessed. For someone of Max's intelligence, most academic challenges were short-lived, even at MIT. But Bruce not only kept up with her, but he'd even push her further. Max thrived with the stimulation, and Bruce didn't seem to mind challenging her. Terry sometimes wondered if this mental attraction would ever become something more, but he'd quickly banish the thought from consciousness - the mental image creeped him out. Terry looked up as he heard the older man approach. Bruce leaned on the table next to Terry.
"That buy really worked you. Will you need anything for that?" he gestured at the large, swollen lump on his ribcage.
"It's just bruises - nothing broken. The real question of the day is, who's idea was it to send Max out?" To this, Bruce returned Terry's gaze evenly.
"She suggested it, and I approved it." He paused, and added neutrally," do you see a problem?"
"Well, not if you don't count endangering an inexperienced fighter," he retorted, and started again. "I know I got roughed up out there, but what if he got Max, too? She'd have no chance," Terry's eyes weren't angry, but sincere with concern for his friend. He knew she wanted to be Batgirl ever since she got a taste for it; however, that was something Terry never wanted to face. Bruce shifted his weight, and turned his eyes toward Max. She was still wearing the black Kevlar bodysuit, the balaclava pushed back on her shoulders.
"I'm with you on that," he said quietly. "I think she has something to prove to herself, and that's the wrong reason to be in - this business," he half-smiled. "But you brought her in, and now we have to deal with that. Besides your fear of her getting hurt or killed, she will need years of physical training before even being ready to patrol." He paused, still watching Max work the console. "If anything, she belongs here, in the Batcave. With her gifts and some more training, she'd be an amazing Oracle. Now, the real question of the day is," Bruce looked directly into his protégé's blue eyes, "how will she accept that truth?" Terry let out a long sigh. He didn't want to lose Max, but he knew Bruce was right. It figures that Bruce would leave this on my shoulders, he thought.
"Who knew being Batman would give me managerial skills?" The older man couldn't resist a smile.
"Now you know. And - I'm just the consultant," he returned, walking back to the console.
++++++++++++
It started as fatigue - he never felt sleepy in the afternoons before. Then he noticed more symptoms, like the swelling in his wrists and ankles. Bruce Wayne's kidneys were failing.
Because of his weakened heart, many, less invasive treatments were ruled out. Bruce needed dialysis, at first every third week, and then more often. He was now going in weekly for the four-hour procedure.
Terry smiled at the nurses as he passed their station, on his way to Wayne's room, Room 6A. A pretty brunette named Staci was finishing up with him. She left the room, smiling broadly, as Terry entered. Terry waited until Staci was out of earshot. "Did I interrupt something?" he couldn't resist jabbing the old guy now and then.
"Hardly," he scoffed. "I'm probably older than her grandparents." Bruce sat up slowly, and rubbed his arm. "Getting old is a bitch, McGinnis. I don't recommend it." Terry smiled as he helped his mentor up.
"Oh but the wonders of medicine. Just hook up an IV of Viagra, and you'll be fine. I think Nurse Staci would gladly hump your leg right now with the right encouragement." Bruce shot Terry a look that silenced him instantly. He did notice, though, that Bruce was smiling.
They headed back to the manor in silence. After several minutes, Bruce spoke.
"Terry, I need to know. What are your plans for Batman after I'm gone?" Bruce kept his gaze straight ahead, face placid.
"Man, you really know how to kill a good mood," Terry joked. He absolutely didn't want to talk about death today. Not Bruce's.
"I'm serious, McGinnis," he snapped back, undeterred. "We need to discuss this, now." He started again. "What are your plans? And tell me the truth." Terry sighed heavily and searched for the right words.
"It's part of my life. I love being Batman, but sometimes I hate how it complicates things - it's so demanding, you know?" The older man listened patiently. "Being able to help so many people is great. There's nothing like it. But there's more. I mean, it began as a sort of redemption for past sins. But now, after so long, it's like a habit. Going out every night, seeing the dirtier part of life. it's hard, but I still like it. Maybe I've been doing it so long that I don't know what else I'd do." Bruce smiled slightly, remembering the punk kid who stole the Batsuit only six years earlier. How far they've both come since those early days.
"And Dana?" the older man asked neutrally. "Does she like it?"
"Well I can't say that she liked it," Terry answered with a half-smile, "I think she wished I'd have a desk job, but that's really not my style anyway. If I weren't doing this, maybe I'd be a cop, or a paramedic, and she'd still be scared every night I go to work." But it couldn't be that simple, Bruce thought. It never was when women were involved.
"Dana and I, we're saving up to get married next year." Here it comes, Bruce thought. "I know she wants to have kids, and that might complicate things. But I don't see why I can't still be Batman. I mean cops, soldiers and firefighters all have kids, too." They wound up the two-lane pass, and the familiar roofline of Wayne Manor appeared at the horizon. "I just can't figure out what I'd way at Career Day." Bruce had to laugh.
"Did you know that, because of work-related stress, police families have the highest incidence of substance abuse and divorce, compared to all other professions?" Bruce asked quietly. "Dana has good reason not to like it. Listen McGinnis," Bruce faced his successor squarely, "your responsibility is to your family, not to me. Batman was my private crusade; one that you are not obligated to continue. In fact," the old man paused for emphasis, "it would be selfish of you to continue if it harmed your family life." Terry could only nod. As nerve-wracking as these past moments were, Terry was somewhat relieved by the original Batman's words. He stopped the car, and helped his mentor get out. "Tonight's plan is recon only. I don't want you getting in too close until Max can give you the edge." Terry just nodded wordlessly. Good, he thought. He was still limping slightly.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Batman glided high above Cuvier's lab, like a vulture over a dying snake. The cloaking device was on. He took his time, both to check for sentries, and to acclimate he to the suit's new feel. Max and Bruce worked feverishly earlier that day to add a gel-like coat over the Batsuit. They guessed that whomever attacked Terry the night before was using infrared vision. This get was to lessen any heat readings, and lower the external heat of the suit to mirror the ambient temperature. Terry hoped it would work, still achy.
Batman circled lower and lower. He steeled himself when he counted one, two, three sentries like the one from last night. He'd have to work quickly. He had ten recording devices, and three video transmitters to plant. He could feel the sentries gaze pass over him, and although they didn't seem to notice him, it didn't put him at ease. He practically flew around the perimeter of the building, barely pausing to plant the transmitters. Within a minute, he was done and on his way back. He wanted to talk to Dana.
"Hello?" he could hear her washing dishes in the background.
"Hey beautiful," he responded. "You too tired for a visit tonight?"
"No, come over!" she paused. "Um, are you flying over, or what?"
"What. I can't let Jokerz know where to find Batman, right? Kind of a security breach." He could see her apartment building just below as he continued on to Wayne Manor.
"Ohh. Well, I guess you're right. what about the cloaking thing?" Terry was curious.
"Are you really impatient tonight, or do you have a thing for the Batsuit, Dane?" he joked. She laughed nervously. Yep, it was the Batsuit. "Ohhh, are you feeling bad tonight, is that it?" More nervous laughter.
"No!" she managed. Dana paused again. Although she lived alone, she lowered her voice as if to tell a secret. "Um, if you're not going to drive over, then, um, can you at least do the voice for me?" Terry nearly fell out of the sky. Don't laugh, he commanded himself. There would be no action tonight if he laughed at Dana.
He cleared his throat. "You want it right now?" he said in his best gruff voice. All he heard on the other end was Dana's breath, drawn in between her teeth, and then a moan.