grows weaker. Increasing his dialysis treatments was a non-solution - there was
nothing left to do but go home.
Of course, the hospital fought him on the decision. After all, even though
his time
in the society pages had long passed, they certainly didn't want to look less
than
heroic in their efforts to sustain Bruce Wayne. But Wayne relented, and the
hospital
finally had to settle with discharging him with a hospice nurse, and morphine,
should
he need it. This was acceptable to Bruce, so they returned home. And for the
most
part, Bruce had reduced his nurse's role to that of receptionist and snack-delivery
person, as the news spread and associates came to visit.
The Manor received a steady stream of visitors after Bruce returned home from
the
hospital. Terry hung around the manor, logging into work on his laptop. Melanie,
with less seniority and no clear connection to Bruce within WayneTech, would
come
by after work and had set herself up in one of the guestrooms. Barbara Gordon
would
come over for a few hours every day, if not to visit Bruce, then to "keep
the
kid out of trouble." And that was fine with Terry - playing host to the
parade
of "men in tights and other immortals", as Max put it, was entirely
too
strange for him to deal with alone.
"Where did all these people come from?" Terry whispered to Barbara.
"Six
years I've been here, and up to this point, how many visitors? Not counting
you,
maybe four?"
"Oh, the JLA has a gigantic and speedy grapevine," Barbara replied.
"The
original Nightwing probably leaked it to Supes and Black Canary, then it went
on
to GL, J'onn, Huntress and the Arrows. Then someone told Flash, and the rest
is
history." Barbara paused, and was about to say more when the doorbell rang.
Terry went to answer it. A man with a broad but pleasant smile stood outside.
"Jason Blood," he offered with a handshake as Terry stood aside.
"I'm
an old, old friend." Terry glanced to Barbara, who nodded imperceptibly
and
smiled at Jason.
"Yes, Bruce has mentioned you before," she said as she rose. "I'll
walk you up."
With Jason following behind, Barbara ascended the stairs and walked the familiar
path back to Bruce's bedroom suite. She cracked the door open.
"Jason?" Bruce called. He looked drowsy, but his eyes lit up when
he saw
Jason's face. "Thank you, Barbara." Barbara turned with a smile. It
may
mean go away, but it sounds so much better, she shrugged to herself.
"You're looking well," Bruce started cordially. He saw thought he
saw
pity in Jason's eyes, and really didn't want any more of it. Jason took a seat
on
the wing chair next to the bed.
"Sorry," Jason said apologetically. "I guess I got bit by the
green-eyed
monster just now." Bruce nodded reflectively.
"It must get tiring," he agreed. Even though he thought it, Bruce
didn't want to add the cliche 'at
least you have your health', so he just stopped speaking.
"It does, yes," Jason sighed. "But the worst part is watching
your
dear friends grow old and die - everyone simply following nature's way - but
not
me."
"Or you could start hanging around with Dr. Fate, or maybe Superman,"
Bruce offered with a wry grin. Jason laughed, holding up both hands.
"You call yourself a friend, but the you say these evil things,"
he chuckled.
He paused and regarded his friend in silence for a moment. "So how are
you
doing? And I promise not to give you big pitiful eyes." Bruce grinned.
He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. "I'm getting more tired each day.
I've
got no appetite. And there are other related - inconveniences - that I'll spare
you the details of. In a way, I'm ready to go, but in another sense - I don't
know."
"It's a strange journey, so I've heard," Jason said good-naturedly.
"I guess we normally think of death in conceptual terms," Bruce said,
searching for the best words. "And back in the old days death would cross
my
mind when I was in a - difficult - situation, but this, now, it's so - physical."
"One of life's 'interesting stinks,' I've heard it said," Jason leaned
back in the chair. Bruce raised his eyebrows in amusement.
"Exactly. I don't like the smells."
++++++++++++++++++++++
"Hey kid," Barbara sighed as she plopped into the overstuffed chair
next
to Terry. He made an encampment on the couch with his laptop, phone, and a large
bag of cookies.
Terry didn't turn around, but threw a cookie her way, which she deftly caught.
"It's
unnerving," he said, answering her unspoken question. "It sounds stupid,
but some people, you just can't imagine dying, you know? And then there it is,
laid
out in front of you." Terry closed his laptop and turned to her. "I've
been doing this night job for six years now, and even though I've gone out plenty
of times without him in the Cave, backing me up, I just can't think about him
never
- never - being there again."
Barbara put a hand softly on his shoulder. "I don't have any words for
you,
kid," she spoke gently. "Stupid as it sounds, I can't imagine it,
either."
++++++++++++++++++++++
He was dreaming. Many of his dreams start this way: Bruce was standing in
the area
known as Crime Alley. But instead of strung-out crack whores and rotting garbage,
he looked out and saw young families and landscaped gardens. The streets were
clean.
There wads even a park. So he started walking. People were smiling and friendly,
but not in a freakish way. Strange, normally the dreams turn nightmarish by
now.
So he kept walking, ready to see Tim in a Joker costume, or his parents' bodies,
limbs twitching from their brains' last gasps. But it didn't come - yet.
He somewhat expected to see Harley Quinn, but not Harleen Quinzel, pushing
a baby
stroller, no less. She smiled brightly. "Welcome home, Bruce," was
all
she said. Bruce smiled back, but scowled as she passed. What is this?
He rounded a corner and brought Leslie Thompkins to the ground. Instead he
caught
her as she let out a startled laugh. "It's been so long, Bruce!" she
greeted,
holding his face with both her hands. "I'm so happy to see you again."
"Hi, Leslie," he said, slightly quizzically. "It's good to see
you,
too." For a dream this one was remarkably lucid - no skipping to different
locations, and more notably he was neither in the batsuit, nor invalid - as
his dreams often exaggerated his condition. He was simply
his usual self, wearing normal, daytime clothes.
"There's so many people who'd want to see you," Leslie continued,
holding
both his hands. She was leading him somewhere, not in an urgent or disturbed
way,
but in a gentle, guiding way. So, not having anything better to do in this dream,
he followed along.
Then as they walked, familiar faces appeared. First was Jim Gordon, who greeted
him with a hug, and then a slap to the shoulder, saying something about I can't
believe it was you, you bastard. Then was Alfred. Familiar faces trickled by,
until
suddenly Bruce found himself surrounded by people from long ago. Was he dying?
Should
he wait for them to transform into wraiths and attack him?
Leslie let go of his hands with a slight smile on her face. "Now, you've
seen
almost everyone. But there are still two more." Bruce didn't want to hope.
And even if it were them, the morning would be a most depressing one, once Bruce
realized that his parents were still dead and he was still - himself.
Then they were walking toward him, not frozen in a portrait. Thomas and Martha
Wayne
hurried toward him, tears of joy in his mother's eyes. Bruce hugged them tight.
He squeezed his eyes shut as a warm, bright light enveloped them all....
++++++++++++++++++
A/N yes Jilly, I am pure evil. I'm sorry, really I am...