No author's note this time. Sorry.
*-* still denotes thoughts.
*************************************************
Bruce sat in his study, brooding. He kept thinking there was something he could have done if he'd just known. He thought he'd been worried about Terry before, but now he was almost frightened. Terry still hadn't spoken. In fact, he barely reacted to anything. He just silently did whatever anyone told him to. He'd even taken the painkillers without arguing; usually he was worse than Bruce in that respect.
Ace was with Terry at the moment. The big dog had been acting strangely for the past week, even slipping up to the boy's side and just sitting and looking at him. He'd met them at the door when they brought Terry home and had stayed by him, guarding him.
"Hey, Old Man."
Bruce looked up, shocked. He hadn't been expecting anyone, let alone Tim Drake.
"Tim, what are you doing here?"
Tim ignored the question for a moment as he turned on another lamp.
"Just 'cause you like spending all your time in caves," he muttered, then cleared his throat. "Barbara stopped by as I was leaving the hospital- I know, that was supposed to be tomorrow, but they let me go tonight instead. Anyway, I could tell something was bugging her so I nagged her until she told me. Actually had to make a cheap shot about recent object lessons on the consequences of not communicating."
Bruce winced. He couldn't blame Tim for being bitter; if he hadn't been so pigheaded about cutting people out of his life to protect them he could have spared Tim and everyone else years of pain.
"I'm sorry, Bruce, I shouldn't have said that," Tim said, pulling up a chair and settling in. "The thing is, she did tell me and if I know you, you've been sitting here brooding over what you might have been able to do to fix it. Or prevent it. Well, guess what? There isn't a thing you could have done. Sometimes life just sucks, you know. And sometimes all you can do is watch someone's life fall apart and just be there to pick up the pieces. I bet you're thinking about hauling him out of the suit, aren't you."
"Yes. Not permanently, just until I'm convinced he isn't suicidal."
"Bruce, you're too smart to make the same mistake twice. You have to let him keep going. I haven't known him that long but I can tell it's almost as important to him as it is to you. Trust me, Bruce, he needs it."
"Like you did?"
Tim was silent for a moment, then sighed.
"No. I hate to admit it, but you were right, even if you did it for the wrong reasons. I couldn't have gone back to being Robin. But Terry's not like me- for one thing, he hasn't had a dead clown using his skull as an au pair suite. He didn't get into this for the same reason, and he didn't stay with it for the same reason. This isn't fun and games to him."
"I know. He once told me that being Batman was a chance to feel like a worthwile human being again."
"And if you take that away from him now..."
"I'll convince him his mother was right. I have thought about this, Tim, and I didn't say I'd made a decision yet. Everything you've said so far has been right-"
"And something you'd already thought about, probably."
Bruce ignored that and continued.
"-but I can't decide until I see how he's doing when he wakes up."
"You really have changed, haven't you?"
"...Possibly."
Tim chuckled. They sat quietly for a while, then Tim asked, "Terry's a high school senior, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"When's Graduation?"
"Three weeks."
"Well, I'll see you in three weeks then and you can meet the kids. You've already met Ginnie."
"Yes. I liked her."
"Me too. Look, I'm serious about the Graduation thing. That kid deserves better and if his own family won't support him, we'll just help him build a new one. Seems to me he's made a good start already."
He grinned again and left. Bruce was still worried, but felt a bit easier. With Tim firmly on Terry's side and Barbara's protective instincts aroused, however reluctantly, the boy stood a chance of getting through this with minimal danger of Bruce messing him up further as he had Dick and Tim. Reassured, he went to check on Terry one last time before seeking his own bed.
**********************************************
The next morning he made sure to get up early. Feeling a little ridiculous about sneaking around his own house, he crept to the kitchen and brewed a pot of tea. Terry wasn't much of a tea drinker, but Bruce had been raised by an Englishman; whenever an emotional scene was inevitable, you made tea.
On reaching Terry's room he found him in the grips of a nightmare, curled into a ball with his arms wrapped protectively around his head. The only sound to be heard was his rapid, shallow breathing. Bruce shoved the tea tray on top of a dresser and hurried to his side. Bracing himself for the expected reaction, he grabbed Terry's shoulder and shook it.
*I wonder if he'll swing for the eyes or the nose.*
"Terry, wake up."
Terry woke swinging, as predicted. Bruce found himself on the floor, his cheek aching.
*That's going to bruise.*
"Ohmygod- Bruce!"
Terry's face was a study in horrified guilt. He tried to get out of bed to help, but just sitting up had him gasping in pain and nearly collapsing.
"I'm all right," Bruce grumbled, picking himself up. "At least you didn't give me a bloody nose like Dick did."
"Dick...?"
"Twice."
"Oh."
Terry didn't exactly look relieved, but he did relax a bit.
"Same thing?"
"Same thing." Bruce hesitated before admitting, "I gave Alfred a black eye once, too."
"You're kidding."
"It's a natural instinct. You wake up disoriented and in pain, someone's grabbing you, and you swing. Especially if you're waking up from a nightmare."
By now Bruce had regained his feet and poured the tea. He set the cups down on the bedside table and made sure Terry was as comfortable as possible before handing him a cup and sitting in the chair next to the bed.
"I'm still sorry I hit you."
"I've had worse. Unfortunately, nightmares are one of the side effects of our line of work. But I have a feeling you had them before you started this. Juvy?"
Terry looked away.
"You never talk about it."
"No. I don't." Terry shot him an expressionless glance. "But I have a feeling you probably know more about what happened there than I do."
It was Bruce's turn to fall silent for a while.
"Are you angry I investigated you?"
"I was, for at least ten minutes. Then I figured that only an idiot would hand over that suit to a teenager without doing some serious checking first."
"How did you find out?"
"Believe it or not, from you. A comment you made about a kid I met in Juvy. I knew I hadn't told you I knew him, so... Anyway, the Commish warned me later that you would have, and Superman told me about the protocols. He told me you'd probably developed a set for me. Have you?"
"...Yes."
"Good."
That was not the reaction Bruce had expected, and he said so.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking to die, but I'm not stupid, either. I know that suit makes me very dangerous. If I ever lost it, things would get pretty ugly before someone could stop me. Running into the Brain Trust and old Razzy just made me worry more. I mean, if I started going nuts on my own you'd spot it in plenty of time to stop me. But someone taking over my body? That was good for a few weeks worth of nightmares. Then Superstarfish told me as we were heading into the Watchtower that first time; said you probably had a long list of ways to take me out. I think he was trying to throw me off-balance, maybe make me paranoid about you. Didn't work. It was actually a load off my mind. I don't want to be unstoppable. -Is it a long list?"
"Not as long as it used to be. I haven't updated it in a while."
"Might want to fix that. It may sound wierd, but I feel a whole lot safer knowing there's someone I can trust to stop me if it's really necessary. Does that make sense?"
"It does to me."
"Good. I think."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. Terry still looked like hell, but the fact that the boy was ragging on him again was a good sign. At that moment he decided not to ground Terry, but there were still a few questions he wanted answered.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Terry snorted.
"What was I supposed to say? 'Yeah, I'd love to be Batman, but you should know my mom's a psycho hose-beast and I'm one seriously screwed-up kid'? I'm sure that would have gone over well. I just didn't want to take the chance. I didn't want to mess this up too."
"It wouldn't have changed my mind, though I might have handled thngs a bit differently." *Like getting you out of there a long time ago, for starters.*
Terry shifted position a bit, trying and failing to not react to the pain. Bruce frowned and reached for the painkillers he'd slipped into his pocket. On seeing the bottle, Terry frowned back. A short non-verbal tug-of-war ensued. Naturally, Bruce won. Terry grumbled but took the pill. Bruce reloaded the tray and started to leave so Terry could rest; a quiet comment stopped him.
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"You want a list?"
Terry almost smiled, then his eyes slowly drifted closed. Bruce waited until he was sure he was asleep, then left. As soon as the old man was gone, Ace jumped back up on the bed. He sniffed Terry, whined, then lay down and settled into a light doze with one thought on his mind.
*I protect my humans.*
*************************************************
The next few weeks were as busy as the last few had been, though for different reasons. The investigation into Burrows and Tully's actions proceeded with alacrity; not only had Terry agreed to press charges, but the knowledge that the CEO of Wayne-Powers and the Commissioner of Police had expressed a personal interest in the case had spurred on the efforts of Internal Affairs. Mrs. McGinnis, to Terry's surprise, stayed out of it. He couldn't help wondering what the Commish had said to her.
After another full day's rest, Terry had started patrolling again. Before long, even the villains were noticing a change. He spoke only when he had to, and never laughed. Only Spellbinder had the nerve to ask why. The most popular theory was that the Joker was responsible, but opinions were divided as to how. Mad Stan sent a card by way of the Commissioner: "Sincere condolences on your recent loss." Terry hadn't known how to react to that.
Dana, Chelsea, and Max had enough sense not to try to cheer him up. Instead, they continued as though nothing had changed, with the slight exception that Dana no longer even pretended to get mad when he was called away. To Bruce's relief, she said flat out that it would take an Armageddon-level disaster to get her to suit up. To Bruce's surprise, she also said she had every intention of helping in other ways. She'd alway planned on becoming a doctor but hadn't been sure which kind. Knowing her boyfriend routinely threw himself into life-threatening situations had made her look more closely at emergency medicine; she'd been fascinated. Bruce couldn't deny that having a budding ER surgeon on their side would be useful, but he hadn't agreed yet. Chelsea had said she be willing to out on a suit if needed; if not, she'd help any way she could. She hadn't forgotten how Terry had risked his life to help her at Wheeler's Ranch and was determined to repay him. Bruce couldn't argue with that either, but again hadn't accepted her offer. Max... was Max.
The three girls had taken up martial arts training as well, each independently coming to Bruce and asking for a recommendation. He'd been reluctant at first but after some thought had decided it couldn't hurt to have them capable of defending themselves. It didn't mean they would be joining Terry on patrol (and they never would if he had anything to say about it). Either way, Dana was now studying jiu jitsu, Chelsea kung fu, and Max tae kwon do. Bruce had felt a twinge of petty-minded satisfaction when he'd selected Max's instructor; the woman was as strict as Bruce himself and would be able to handle Max's excess energy with few problems.
Remodelling the kitchen was easier than Bruce thought. Terry, however, pointed out that it had been well-organized to begin with; only the components needed upgrading.
Bruce still worried about Terry. Even out of the cowl he never laughed and his smiles, although becoming more frequent as time passed, were still too rare and a far cry from his old incandescent grin. Bruce knew the boy was hurting, even grieving, and that he would recover in time, but he still worried.
Finally, the last day of school came.
*************************************************
"So, how does it feel to be a responsible adult?"
Terry responded in the only appropriate manner- he blew a raspberry. Bruce smiled slightly.
"Seriously, though," Terry said, "ask me when I am one. That's still a few years off. But how does it feel to be out of high school? ... There aren't words to describe it. Start with 'free' and work from there."
"Odd choice of words for someone still facing college, then grad school."
"They aren't Hamilton Hill High."
There was a decided edge to Terry's voice. Bruce looked at him.
"Something you'd like to tell me?"
"Let's just say it'll be nice being somewhere I'm not one of the usual suspects."
"I see."
And he did. There was always someone who didn't want to let Terry forget his record. He'd never told the boy about the little talk he'd had with Principal Nakamura just after Terry had started working for him. Nakamura had tried to convince him to fire Terry, calling him irresponsible, untrustworthy, hopelessly violent, and in general making him out ot be an irredeemable punk. He'd even tried to hint that Terry had staged the Jokerz' attack in order to get on Bruce's good side, and wasn't it an interesting coincidence that his father was killed by Jokerz that same night... By the time Bruce was done with him, Nakamura had been afraid for his job.
"What happened?"
"Mr. Trevelyan's mutant slug disappeared."
"... His what?"
"It's a sculpture. It's supposed to represent the nobility of the soul striving to overcome all obstacles. It looks like a mutant slug. About a foot high, made of metal. He keeps it on his desk. It wasn't there this morning and he just happened to remember that I frequently eyed it- his exact words. Of course, I eyed it; it's butt-ugly! So while the other seniors get to enjoy the start of their last day, I got to sit in Nakamura's office while they searched my stuff. And to cap it all off, the slug just happened to show up in his supply closet. He was so apologetic, of course. The new janitor must have put it in there by accident, he said. And such a pity it had to happen on my last day of school."
"Interesting coincidence."
"Yeah, just like the coincidence of pointing out his new car to Max just as Chuckles and his band walked by."
"Terry!"
Bruce was honestly shocked, but only for a second. Trevelyan had been harassing Terry for as long as Bruce had known him; Terry had every reason to want a bit of payback. Also, Chuckles and his band were unusual for Jokerz. They didn't go in for senseless destruction; they preferred redecoration. They had some very original ideas, even by Bruce's standards. Which reminded him-
"Uh, Terry, didn't you tell me Trevelyan called the Jokerz uncreative?"
"Yep. 'The most woefully uncreative gang ever to hit Gotham'. Day before yesterday."
"Do I want to know?"
In answer, Terry dug his camera out of his backpack and linked it to the computer.
"I pointed it out just before lunch. When we came out at the end of the day..."
He hit a button. Bruce's jaw dropped as he gazed at the result of Terry's not-so-innocent remark.
"Amazing what you can do with hot glue, wire hangers, and a few few dozen yards of fake fur, isn't it?"
"McGinnis..."
"Yes?"
"A giant pink bunny slipper?"
"I'd call that pretty creative."
"You did make sure you had an alibi."
"The unholy trinity between classes, and I made sure I was early to the two I had left. And I'm not sorry."
"Under the circumstances I wouldn't expect you to be. As long as you don't make a habit of it."
"Be a nice trick if I could."
"Good point."
Bruce took a last look at the renovated car, then turned and looked at Terry again.
"I should have asked you this before- what are your plans for after Graduation?"
"Well, I've been thinking of taking a year off to train. Up to now we've had to squeeze it in where we could and I've been doing okay. That's not good enough. It's time to get serious and I can't do that and juggle a full course load. Plenty of kids take a year off for all sorts of reasons, so it's not like I'm doing anything unusual."
Bruce studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"One year. What did you have in mind?"
"See, there's the problem- I can't exactly leave Gotham and there's only so much I can do on simulations."
"True. I know a few people who might be willing to take on a new student, even if it means relocating for a while. And we need to work on your detective skills as well."
Terry rolled his eyes in agreement.
"I still can't believe I missed that flower last night."
"I wasn't thinking of that. Anyone can miss a clue if they're sufficiently distracted."
"You caught it."
"I wasn't the one being shot at."
"There is that."
They looked at each other for a moment, then Bruce almost smiled.
"You may have that full course load after all."
********************************************
Graduation day dawned bright and clear. Terry awoke in full panic mode. Bruce always found this amusing; the boy hadn't been this bad since the eggbaby incident. Terry was positively dithering. Ace, showing either extreme cowardice or extreme good sense, spent most of the day hiding under the dining room table.
"Ohmygod, I never unpacked my suit! It's all wrinkled! An iron! I need an iron! Where- I'm asking the wrong person!"
Bruce kept a straight face with the ease of long practice and surreptitiously placed the iron in plain sight in the one place Terry hadn't checked- the laundry room. He didn't bother restraining his grin when a loud groan told him the iron had been noticed.
Despite Terry's best efforts, he was ready in plenty of time. Bruce, not sure he wanted Terry behind the wheel of anything more advanced than a go-kart at the moment, insisted on driving. As soon as he put Terry in the much calmer hands of Dana and Chelsea, he sought his seat in the bleachers. Thanks to the good weather, they were able to hold the ceremony on the football field as planned.
Tim and Ginnie were already there, along with a man and a woman Bruce didn't know. He assumed they were Tim's kids, although they bore little resemblance to their parents. The younger woman was a hair under six feet tall with short butter-blond curls, a slim athletic figure, aristocratic features, and impish green eyes. Tim had said she was pursuing a Masters in marine biology. The younger man was a giant, standing a good six inches taller than Bruce. He looked like the blacksmith he was, with broad shoulders and muscles obvious even through his suit. His long, thick dark hair was caught back in a pewter clasp that Bruce suspected was his own work; his calm grey eyes surveyed the scene without indicating he noticed the stares he was attracting.
"Bruce!" Tim called, waving. Once he'd joined them, Tim made the introductions. "You've met Ginnie, of course, but these are my kids. Angelin and Random. Before you decide you're too polite too ask, no, that's not what we named him."
"Not their fault everyone decided to name their kid Eric that year," Random said as quietly as he could- which wasn't very with his booming basso profundo. Angelin laughed.
"Big Eric, Little Eric, Medium Eric, Eric the Red, and one decided to shorten it to Ric. One day the teacher asked 'Eric" to do something and when asked which she meant, she said, "oh, that random Eric over there." and it stuck."
Bruce chuckled rustily, then raised an eyebrow.
"Big Eric?"
"At the time he was bigger than me."
"I see."
"Too much for my comfort, usually," Barbara said from behind him. Bruce turned to find her with her husband and three kids; someone he couldn't quite see stood behind them.
Strictly speaking, BJ Gordon wasn't Sam Young's child. Barbara and Dick had made one final effort to make their relationship work, but Dick had refused to leave Bludhaven and Barbara wouldn't leave Gotham. When she learned she was pregnant, she told Dick but refused his offer of marriage. Bruce had offered too out of a sense of duty and had gotten a half-hour rant for his pains. BJ was in his early 30's now and was upholding the family tradition, but in his own way. He was a deputy in Ecfield County in upstate Gotham and was being groomed to take over for the Sheriff when he retired in a few years. He was a handsome man with wavy auburn hair and his mother's clear blue eyes. The twins, Molly and Judith, were Sam's kids. Like their brother, they'd left the city but had headed further north. Both now lived in northern New England, within an hour's drive of each other. Judith, a deputy like her brother, had an apartment in Norway; Molly, a potter, lived with her girlfriend Trista on a farm in Middle Intervale. Trista hadn't come; her allergies went insane in the warmer climate. The twins were identical, combining their parents' best features, but it was easy to tell them apart: Judith kept her hair much shorter than her artistic sister.
"Hello, Bruce."
Bruce froze. That was the last voice he'd expected to hear.
"Hello, Dick."
The two eyed each other warily. Barbara caught them at it and stepped forward, looking exasperated.
"All right, you two, here's the deal- you will both act like civilized human beings for the duration or I'll arrest you for disturbing the peace and I'll make sure you're put in the same holding cell. Do I make myself clear?"
She wasn't bluffing.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Very well."
She glared at them again, then turned back to Ginnie, who was snickering. Bruce cleared his throat and tried to make innocuous conversation.
"So, Dick-"
"Barbara told me. She's been keeping me updated for years, whether I asked or not. When she said Tim was coming and bringing his kids and had talked her into gathering hers, I just... I don't know. I had to see for myself, I guess. She'll never admit it, but she likes the kid. He must really be something."
"He is. First time I saw him he was facing a gang of Jokerz singlehanded. He actually tried to keep me out of it."
Dick grinned.
"Wish I could have seen his face when you started swinging."
"It was... memorable."
"I'll bet. Have the same old rumors- never mind, I see they have. Some things never change."
"Unfortunately."
They subsided into awkward silence. Bruce looked around, frowned, and checked his watch.
"There's something I need to take care of."
"Bruce! I don't believe- not now!"
"Not that. And there's no better time. I should be back before it starts. Save me a seat."
He headed for the exit, leaving Dick thunderstruck.
**********************************************
He got back just in time and was greeted with whole-hearted approval once they realized what he'd been up to. They took their seats as a group seconds before the music for the graduates' entrance started.
The ceremony itself was quite traditional- which is to say, mind-numbingly dull. Dick slipped a pack of cards out of his pocket and started a round of poker with Tim, Ginnie, Sam, and BJ. Bruce ignored them as well as the person behind him who asked her companion why they hadn't thought of that. The only point of interest, other than Terry's receiving his diploma (which garnered a louder cheer than the boy had expected; his double-take was a classic), was the Valedictorian's speech. Max had put a lot of work into it; several of her comments sounded innocent enough to the general audience but had the Bat-family and their associates struggling to keep straight faces.
At about the point Dick muttered something about being caught in a time loop, it was over. Bruce led them to where he had arranged to meet Terry and wasn't surprised that he was waiting for them with Max and Chelsea. To say he was stunned at seeing the whole array of Drakes and Gordon-Youngs was an understatement of near-mythic proportions. The Drakes he'd already met and liked, he and BJ hit it off immediately, and Molly seemed to approve. Judith was reserving judgement until she knew him better, but congratulated him anyway. Then Dick stepped forward.
It was obvious Terry recognized him. The two eyed each other as warily as Dick and Bruce had earlier. Dick spoke first, poker-faced.
"So, you're the kid who thinks he can take my place."
"So you're the guy who left a place to be taken," Terry shot back. Dick laughed and slapped him on the back.
"No respect for your elders- I like that! You must give Bruce cat-fits twenty times a day."
"I do not!" Terry looked offended. "I keep it down to ten."
Dick laughed again and Terry gave a slight grin, which faded as he caught sight of Bruce and the person standing next to him.
"Matty?" The little boy ran up to him; Terry dropped to his knees and caught him in a bear hug. "Oh my God, Matty, I don't believe it!"
He held his little brother for a few minutes, then looked up at Bruce with shining eyes.
"I don't know how you did it, but thanks."
Bruce heard sniffling next to him. Without even looking he passed his handkerchief to Max. The others pretended not to notice while they eavesdropped shamelessly.
"I thought they killed you!"
"I'm okay, Matt. I've been worried about you; you shouldn't have had to see that."
"I thought cops were supposed to be good guys."
Barbara, Dick, BJ, and Judith winced.
"They're supposed to be, but every group has a few jerks, right?"
"I guess... Did Commissioner Gordon really belt Mom?"
Dick and Tim stared at Barbara, who ignored them. Sam caught their eyes and nodded, hiding a grin.
"Yeah, she did, but she's kinda embarrassed about it, so let's change the subject."
"Are you mad at me? Is that why you left?"
"NO!!! No. Matt, it had nothing to do with you, I swear. Mom and I just had an argument over my career choice, that's all. Mr. Wayne's been training me for a job she doesn't like, but I do. I've been trying to see you..." Terry trailed off, obviously not wanting to tell Matt their mother was going to great lengths to keep them apart. After a few seconds, he reached up and took the tassle off his mortarboard. "Here. I want you to have this. This way, you'll know I haven't forgotten you, even if I can't see you too often. Just... don't let Mom know you have it, okay?"
"Okay."
Matt would have said more, but he and the entire group were distracted by a loud "WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The voice was familiar, especially to the older members of the group. They looked at each other in stunned disbelief.
"Nope. Uh-uh. Not happening," Dick said.
"It's impossible," Barbara gasped.
"Here we go again," Tim sighed.
Bruce said nothing; he stood there and watched as a figure bounced across the courtyard on a pogo stick.
"Boingy! Boingy! Boingy!" she cried.
It was Harley Quinn. In full costume. Looking no older than Angelin.
************************************************
*-* still denotes thoughts.
*************************************************
Bruce sat in his study, brooding. He kept thinking there was something he could have done if he'd just known. He thought he'd been worried about Terry before, but now he was almost frightened. Terry still hadn't spoken. In fact, he barely reacted to anything. He just silently did whatever anyone told him to. He'd even taken the painkillers without arguing; usually he was worse than Bruce in that respect.
Ace was with Terry at the moment. The big dog had been acting strangely for the past week, even slipping up to the boy's side and just sitting and looking at him. He'd met them at the door when they brought Terry home and had stayed by him, guarding him.
"Hey, Old Man."
Bruce looked up, shocked. He hadn't been expecting anyone, let alone Tim Drake.
"Tim, what are you doing here?"
Tim ignored the question for a moment as he turned on another lamp.
"Just 'cause you like spending all your time in caves," he muttered, then cleared his throat. "Barbara stopped by as I was leaving the hospital- I know, that was supposed to be tomorrow, but they let me go tonight instead. Anyway, I could tell something was bugging her so I nagged her until she told me. Actually had to make a cheap shot about recent object lessons on the consequences of not communicating."
Bruce winced. He couldn't blame Tim for being bitter; if he hadn't been so pigheaded about cutting people out of his life to protect them he could have spared Tim and everyone else years of pain.
"I'm sorry, Bruce, I shouldn't have said that," Tim said, pulling up a chair and settling in. "The thing is, she did tell me and if I know you, you've been sitting here brooding over what you might have been able to do to fix it. Or prevent it. Well, guess what? There isn't a thing you could have done. Sometimes life just sucks, you know. And sometimes all you can do is watch someone's life fall apart and just be there to pick up the pieces. I bet you're thinking about hauling him out of the suit, aren't you."
"Yes. Not permanently, just until I'm convinced he isn't suicidal."
"Bruce, you're too smart to make the same mistake twice. You have to let him keep going. I haven't known him that long but I can tell it's almost as important to him as it is to you. Trust me, Bruce, he needs it."
"Like you did?"
Tim was silent for a moment, then sighed.
"No. I hate to admit it, but you were right, even if you did it for the wrong reasons. I couldn't have gone back to being Robin. But Terry's not like me- for one thing, he hasn't had a dead clown using his skull as an au pair suite. He didn't get into this for the same reason, and he didn't stay with it for the same reason. This isn't fun and games to him."
"I know. He once told me that being Batman was a chance to feel like a worthwile human being again."
"And if you take that away from him now..."
"I'll convince him his mother was right. I have thought about this, Tim, and I didn't say I'd made a decision yet. Everything you've said so far has been right-"
"And something you'd already thought about, probably."
Bruce ignored that and continued.
"-but I can't decide until I see how he's doing when he wakes up."
"You really have changed, haven't you?"
"...Possibly."
Tim chuckled. They sat quietly for a while, then Tim asked, "Terry's a high school senior, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"When's Graduation?"
"Three weeks."
"Well, I'll see you in three weeks then and you can meet the kids. You've already met Ginnie."
"Yes. I liked her."
"Me too. Look, I'm serious about the Graduation thing. That kid deserves better and if his own family won't support him, we'll just help him build a new one. Seems to me he's made a good start already."
He grinned again and left. Bruce was still worried, but felt a bit easier. With Tim firmly on Terry's side and Barbara's protective instincts aroused, however reluctantly, the boy stood a chance of getting through this with minimal danger of Bruce messing him up further as he had Dick and Tim. Reassured, he went to check on Terry one last time before seeking his own bed.
**********************************************
The next morning he made sure to get up early. Feeling a little ridiculous about sneaking around his own house, he crept to the kitchen and brewed a pot of tea. Terry wasn't much of a tea drinker, but Bruce had been raised by an Englishman; whenever an emotional scene was inevitable, you made tea.
On reaching Terry's room he found him in the grips of a nightmare, curled into a ball with his arms wrapped protectively around his head. The only sound to be heard was his rapid, shallow breathing. Bruce shoved the tea tray on top of a dresser and hurried to his side. Bracing himself for the expected reaction, he grabbed Terry's shoulder and shook it.
*I wonder if he'll swing for the eyes or the nose.*
"Terry, wake up."
Terry woke swinging, as predicted. Bruce found himself on the floor, his cheek aching.
*That's going to bruise.*
"Ohmygod- Bruce!"
Terry's face was a study in horrified guilt. He tried to get out of bed to help, but just sitting up had him gasping in pain and nearly collapsing.
"I'm all right," Bruce grumbled, picking himself up. "At least you didn't give me a bloody nose like Dick did."
"Dick...?"
"Twice."
"Oh."
Terry didn't exactly look relieved, but he did relax a bit.
"Same thing?"
"Same thing." Bruce hesitated before admitting, "I gave Alfred a black eye once, too."
"You're kidding."
"It's a natural instinct. You wake up disoriented and in pain, someone's grabbing you, and you swing. Especially if you're waking up from a nightmare."
By now Bruce had regained his feet and poured the tea. He set the cups down on the bedside table and made sure Terry was as comfortable as possible before handing him a cup and sitting in the chair next to the bed.
"I'm still sorry I hit you."
"I've had worse. Unfortunately, nightmares are one of the side effects of our line of work. But I have a feeling you had them before you started this. Juvy?"
Terry looked away.
"You never talk about it."
"No. I don't." Terry shot him an expressionless glance. "But I have a feeling you probably know more about what happened there than I do."
It was Bruce's turn to fall silent for a while.
"Are you angry I investigated you?"
"I was, for at least ten minutes. Then I figured that only an idiot would hand over that suit to a teenager without doing some serious checking first."
"How did you find out?"
"Believe it or not, from you. A comment you made about a kid I met in Juvy. I knew I hadn't told you I knew him, so... Anyway, the Commish warned me later that you would have, and Superman told me about the protocols. He told me you'd probably developed a set for me. Have you?"
"...Yes."
"Good."
That was not the reaction Bruce had expected, and he said so.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking to die, but I'm not stupid, either. I know that suit makes me very dangerous. If I ever lost it, things would get pretty ugly before someone could stop me. Running into the Brain Trust and old Razzy just made me worry more. I mean, if I started going nuts on my own you'd spot it in plenty of time to stop me. But someone taking over my body? That was good for a few weeks worth of nightmares. Then Superstarfish told me as we were heading into the Watchtower that first time; said you probably had a long list of ways to take me out. I think he was trying to throw me off-balance, maybe make me paranoid about you. Didn't work. It was actually a load off my mind. I don't want to be unstoppable. -Is it a long list?"
"Not as long as it used to be. I haven't updated it in a while."
"Might want to fix that. It may sound wierd, but I feel a whole lot safer knowing there's someone I can trust to stop me if it's really necessary. Does that make sense?"
"It does to me."
"Good. I think."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. Terry still looked like hell, but the fact that the boy was ragging on him again was a good sign. At that moment he decided not to ground Terry, but there were still a few questions he wanted answered.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Terry snorted.
"What was I supposed to say? 'Yeah, I'd love to be Batman, but you should know my mom's a psycho hose-beast and I'm one seriously screwed-up kid'? I'm sure that would have gone over well. I just didn't want to take the chance. I didn't want to mess this up too."
"It wouldn't have changed my mind, though I might have handled thngs a bit differently." *Like getting you out of there a long time ago, for starters.*
Terry shifted position a bit, trying and failing to not react to the pain. Bruce frowned and reached for the painkillers he'd slipped into his pocket. On seeing the bottle, Terry frowned back. A short non-verbal tug-of-war ensued. Naturally, Bruce won. Terry grumbled but took the pill. Bruce reloaded the tray and started to leave so Terry could rest; a quiet comment stopped him.
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"You want a list?"
Terry almost smiled, then his eyes slowly drifted closed. Bruce waited until he was sure he was asleep, then left. As soon as the old man was gone, Ace jumped back up on the bed. He sniffed Terry, whined, then lay down and settled into a light doze with one thought on his mind.
*I protect my humans.*
*************************************************
The next few weeks were as busy as the last few had been, though for different reasons. The investigation into Burrows and Tully's actions proceeded with alacrity; not only had Terry agreed to press charges, but the knowledge that the CEO of Wayne-Powers and the Commissioner of Police had expressed a personal interest in the case had spurred on the efforts of Internal Affairs. Mrs. McGinnis, to Terry's surprise, stayed out of it. He couldn't help wondering what the Commish had said to her.
After another full day's rest, Terry had started patrolling again. Before long, even the villains were noticing a change. He spoke only when he had to, and never laughed. Only Spellbinder had the nerve to ask why. The most popular theory was that the Joker was responsible, but opinions were divided as to how. Mad Stan sent a card by way of the Commissioner: "Sincere condolences on your recent loss." Terry hadn't known how to react to that.
Dana, Chelsea, and Max had enough sense not to try to cheer him up. Instead, they continued as though nothing had changed, with the slight exception that Dana no longer even pretended to get mad when he was called away. To Bruce's relief, she said flat out that it would take an Armageddon-level disaster to get her to suit up. To Bruce's surprise, she also said she had every intention of helping in other ways. She'd alway planned on becoming a doctor but hadn't been sure which kind. Knowing her boyfriend routinely threw himself into life-threatening situations had made her look more closely at emergency medicine; she'd been fascinated. Bruce couldn't deny that having a budding ER surgeon on their side would be useful, but he hadn't agreed yet. Chelsea had said she be willing to out on a suit if needed; if not, she'd help any way she could. She hadn't forgotten how Terry had risked his life to help her at Wheeler's Ranch and was determined to repay him. Bruce couldn't argue with that either, but again hadn't accepted her offer. Max... was Max.
The three girls had taken up martial arts training as well, each independently coming to Bruce and asking for a recommendation. He'd been reluctant at first but after some thought had decided it couldn't hurt to have them capable of defending themselves. It didn't mean they would be joining Terry on patrol (and they never would if he had anything to say about it). Either way, Dana was now studying jiu jitsu, Chelsea kung fu, and Max tae kwon do. Bruce had felt a twinge of petty-minded satisfaction when he'd selected Max's instructor; the woman was as strict as Bruce himself and would be able to handle Max's excess energy with few problems.
Remodelling the kitchen was easier than Bruce thought. Terry, however, pointed out that it had been well-organized to begin with; only the components needed upgrading.
Bruce still worried about Terry. Even out of the cowl he never laughed and his smiles, although becoming more frequent as time passed, were still too rare and a far cry from his old incandescent grin. Bruce knew the boy was hurting, even grieving, and that he would recover in time, but he still worried.
Finally, the last day of school came.
*************************************************
"So, how does it feel to be a responsible adult?"
Terry responded in the only appropriate manner- he blew a raspberry. Bruce smiled slightly.
"Seriously, though," Terry said, "ask me when I am one. That's still a few years off. But how does it feel to be out of high school? ... There aren't words to describe it. Start with 'free' and work from there."
"Odd choice of words for someone still facing college, then grad school."
"They aren't Hamilton Hill High."
There was a decided edge to Terry's voice. Bruce looked at him.
"Something you'd like to tell me?"
"Let's just say it'll be nice being somewhere I'm not one of the usual suspects."
"I see."
And he did. There was always someone who didn't want to let Terry forget his record. He'd never told the boy about the little talk he'd had with Principal Nakamura just after Terry had started working for him. Nakamura had tried to convince him to fire Terry, calling him irresponsible, untrustworthy, hopelessly violent, and in general making him out ot be an irredeemable punk. He'd even tried to hint that Terry had staged the Jokerz' attack in order to get on Bruce's good side, and wasn't it an interesting coincidence that his father was killed by Jokerz that same night... By the time Bruce was done with him, Nakamura had been afraid for his job.
"What happened?"
"Mr. Trevelyan's mutant slug disappeared."
"... His what?"
"It's a sculpture. It's supposed to represent the nobility of the soul striving to overcome all obstacles. It looks like a mutant slug. About a foot high, made of metal. He keeps it on his desk. It wasn't there this morning and he just happened to remember that I frequently eyed it- his exact words. Of course, I eyed it; it's butt-ugly! So while the other seniors get to enjoy the start of their last day, I got to sit in Nakamura's office while they searched my stuff. And to cap it all off, the slug just happened to show up in his supply closet. He was so apologetic, of course. The new janitor must have put it in there by accident, he said. And such a pity it had to happen on my last day of school."
"Interesting coincidence."
"Yeah, just like the coincidence of pointing out his new car to Max just as Chuckles and his band walked by."
"Terry!"
Bruce was honestly shocked, but only for a second. Trevelyan had been harassing Terry for as long as Bruce had known him; Terry had every reason to want a bit of payback. Also, Chuckles and his band were unusual for Jokerz. They didn't go in for senseless destruction; they preferred redecoration. They had some very original ideas, even by Bruce's standards. Which reminded him-
"Uh, Terry, didn't you tell me Trevelyan called the Jokerz uncreative?"
"Yep. 'The most woefully uncreative gang ever to hit Gotham'. Day before yesterday."
"Do I want to know?"
In answer, Terry dug his camera out of his backpack and linked it to the computer.
"I pointed it out just before lunch. When we came out at the end of the day..."
He hit a button. Bruce's jaw dropped as he gazed at the result of Terry's not-so-innocent remark.
"Amazing what you can do with hot glue, wire hangers, and a few few dozen yards of fake fur, isn't it?"
"McGinnis..."
"Yes?"
"A giant pink bunny slipper?"
"I'd call that pretty creative."
"You did make sure you had an alibi."
"The unholy trinity between classes, and I made sure I was early to the two I had left. And I'm not sorry."
"Under the circumstances I wouldn't expect you to be. As long as you don't make a habit of it."
"Be a nice trick if I could."
"Good point."
Bruce took a last look at the renovated car, then turned and looked at Terry again.
"I should have asked you this before- what are your plans for after Graduation?"
"Well, I've been thinking of taking a year off to train. Up to now we've had to squeeze it in where we could and I've been doing okay. That's not good enough. It's time to get serious and I can't do that and juggle a full course load. Plenty of kids take a year off for all sorts of reasons, so it's not like I'm doing anything unusual."
Bruce studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"One year. What did you have in mind?"
"See, there's the problem- I can't exactly leave Gotham and there's only so much I can do on simulations."
"True. I know a few people who might be willing to take on a new student, even if it means relocating for a while. And we need to work on your detective skills as well."
Terry rolled his eyes in agreement.
"I still can't believe I missed that flower last night."
"I wasn't thinking of that. Anyone can miss a clue if they're sufficiently distracted."
"You caught it."
"I wasn't the one being shot at."
"There is that."
They looked at each other for a moment, then Bruce almost smiled.
"You may have that full course load after all."
********************************************
Graduation day dawned bright and clear. Terry awoke in full panic mode. Bruce always found this amusing; the boy hadn't been this bad since the eggbaby incident. Terry was positively dithering. Ace, showing either extreme cowardice or extreme good sense, spent most of the day hiding under the dining room table.
"Ohmygod, I never unpacked my suit! It's all wrinkled! An iron! I need an iron! Where- I'm asking the wrong person!"
Bruce kept a straight face with the ease of long practice and surreptitiously placed the iron in plain sight in the one place Terry hadn't checked- the laundry room. He didn't bother restraining his grin when a loud groan told him the iron had been noticed.
Despite Terry's best efforts, he was ready in plenty of time. Bruce, not sure he wanted Terry behind the wheel of anything more advanced than a go-kart at the moment, insisted on driving. As soon as he put Terry in the much calmer hands of Dana and Chelsea, he sought his seat in the bleachers. Thanks to the good weather, they were able to hold the ceremony on the football field as planned.
Tim and Ginnie were already there, along with a man and a woman Bruce didn't know. He assumed they were Tim's kids, although they bore little resemblance to their parents. The younger woman was a hair under six feet tall with short butter-blond curls, a slim athletic figure, aristocratic features, and impish green eyes. Tim had said she was pursuing a Masters in marine biology. The younger man was a giant, standing a good six inches taller than Bruce. He looked like the blacksmith he was, with broad shoulders and muscles obvious even through his suit. His long, thick dark hair was caught back in a pewter clasp that Bruce suspected was his own work; his calm grey eyes surveyed the scene without indicating he noticed the stares he was attracting.
"Bruce!" Tim called, waving. Once he'd joined them, Tim made the introductions. "You've met Ginnie, of course, but these are my kids. Angelin and Random. Before you decide you're too polite too ask, no, that's not what we named him."
"Not their fault everyone decided to name their kid Eric that year," Random said as quietly as he could- which wasn't very with his booming basso profundo. Angelin laughed.
"Big Eric, Little Eric, Medium Eric, Eric the Red, and one decided to shorten it to Ric. One day the teacher asked 'Eric" to do something and when asked which she meant, she said, "oh, that random Eric over there." and it stuck."
Bruce chuckled rustily, then raised an eyebrow.
"Big Eric?"
"At the time he was bigger than me."
"I see."
"Too much for my comfort, usually," Barbara said from behind him. Bruce turned to find her with her husband and three kids; someone he couldn't quite see stood behind them.
Strictly speaking, BJ Gordon wasn't Sam Young's child. Barbara and Dick had made one final effort to make their relationship work, but Dick had refused to leave Bludhaven and Barbara wouldn't leave Gotham. When she learned she was pregnant, she told Dick but refused his offer of marriage. Bruce had offered too out of a sense of duty and had gotten a half-hour rant for his pains. BJ was in his early 30's now and was upholding the family tradition, but in his own way. He was a deputy in Ecfield County in upstate Gotham and was being groomed to take over for the Sheriff when he retired in a few years. He was a handsome man with wavy auburn hair and his mother's clear blue eyes. The twins, Molly and Judith, were Sam's kids. Like their brother, they'd left the city but had headed further north. Both now lived in northern New England, within an hour's drive of each other. Judith, a deputy like her brother, had an apartment in Norway; Molly, a potter, lived with her girlfriend Trista on a farm in Middle Intervale. Trista hadn't come; her allergies went insane in the warmer climate. The twins were identical, combining their parents' best features, but it was easy to tell them apart: Judith kept her hair much shorter than her artistic sister.
"Hello, Bruce."
Bruce froze. That was the last voice he'd expected to hear.
"Hello, Dick."
The two eyed each other warily. Barbara caught them at it and stepped forward, looking exasperated.
"All right, you two, here's the deal- you will both act like civilized human beings for the duration or I'll arrest you for disturbing the peace and I'll make sure you're put in the same holding cell. Do I make myself clear?"
She wasn't bluffing.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Very well."
She glared at them again, then turned back to Ginnie, who was snickering. Bruce cleared his throat and tried to make innocuous conversation.
"So, Dick-"
"Barbara told me. She's been keeping me updated for years, whether I asked or not. When she said Tim was coming and bringing his kids and had talked her into gathering hers, I just... I don't know. I had to see for myself, I guess. She'll never admit it, but she likes the kid. He must really be something."
"He is. First time I saw him he was facing a gang of Jokerz singlehanded. He actually tried to keep me out of it."
Dick grinned.
"Wish I could have seen his face when you started swinging."
"It was... memorable."
"I'll bet. Have the same old rumors- never mind, I see they have. Some things never change."
"Unfortunately."
They subsided into awkward silence. Bruce looked around, frowned, and checked his watch.
"There's something I need to take care of."
"Bruce! I don't believe- not now!"
"Not that. And there's no better time. I should be back before it starts. Save me a seat."
He headed for the exit, leaving Dick thunderstruck.
**********************************************
He got back just in time and was greeted with whole-hearted approval once they realized what he'd been up to. They took their seats as a group seconds before the music for the graduates' entrance started.
The ceremony itself was quite traditional- which is to say, mind-numbingly dull. Dick slipped a pack of cards out of his pocket and started a round of poker with Tim, Ginnie, Sam, and BJ. Bruce ignored them as well as the person behind him who asked her companion why they hadn't thought of that. The only point of interest, other than Terry's receiving his diploma (which garnered a louder cheer than the boy had expected; his double-take was a classic), was the Valedictorian's speech. Max had put a lot of work into it; several of her comments sounded innocent enough to the general audience but had the Bat-family and their associates struggling to keep straight faces.
At about the point Dick muttered something about being caught in a time loop, it was over. Bruce led them to where he had arranged to meet Terry and wasn't surprised that he was waiting for them with Max and Chelsea. To say he was stunned at seeing the whole array of Drakes and Gordon-Youngs was an understatement of near-mythic proportions. The Drakes he'd already met and liked, he and BJ hit it off immediately, and Molly seemed to approve. Judith was reserving judgement until she knew him better, but congratulated him anyway. Then Dick stepped forward.
It was obvious Terry recognized him. The two eyed each other as warily as Dick and Bruce had earlier. Dick spoke first, poker-faced.
"So, you're the kid who thinks he can take my place."
"So you're the guy who left a place to be taken," Terry shot back. Dick laughed and slapped him on the back.
"No respect for your elders- I like that! You must give Bruce cat-fits twenty times a day."
"I do not!" Terry looked offended. "I keep it down to ten."
Dick laughed again and Terry gave a slight grin, which faded as he caught sight of Bruce and the person standing next to him.
"Matty?" The little boy ran up to him; Terry dropped to his knees and caught him in a bear hug. "Oh my God, Matty, I don't believe it!"
He held his little brother for a few minutes, then looked up at Bruce with shining eyes.
"I don't know how you did it, but thanks."
Bruce heard sniffling next to him. Without even looking he passed his handkerchief to Max. The others pretended not to notice while they eavesdropped shamelessly.
"I thought they killed you!"
"I'm okay, Matt. I've been worried about you; you shouldn't have had to see that."
"I thought cops were supposed to be good guys."
Barbara, Dick, BJ, and Judith winced.
"They're supposed to be, but every group has a few jerks, right?"
"I guess... Did Commissioner Gordon really belt Mom?"
Dick and Tim stared at Barbara, who ignored them. Sam caught their eyes and nodded, hiding a grin.
"Yeah, she did, but she's kinda embarrassed about it, so let's change the subject."
"Are you mad at me? Is that why you left?"
"NO!!! No. Matt, it had nothing to do with you, I swear. Mom and I just had an argument over my career choice, that's all. Mr. Wayne's been training me for a job she doesn't like, but I do. I've been trying to see you..." Terry trailed off, obviously not wanting to tell Matt their mother was going to great lengths to keep them apart. After a few seconds, he reached up and took the tassle off his mortarboard. "Here. I want you to have this. This way, you'll know I haven't forgotten you, even if I can't see you too often. Just... don't let Mom know you have it, okay?"
"Okay."
Matt would have said more, but he and the entire group were distracted by a loud "WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The voice was familiar, especially to the older members of the group. They looked at each other in stunned disbelief.
"Nope. Uh-uh. Not happening," Dick said.
"It's impossible," Barbara gasped.
"Here we go again," Tim sighed.
Bruce said nothing; he stood there and watched as a figure bounced across the courtyard on a pogo stick.
"Boingy! Boingy! Boingy!" she cried.
It was Harley Quinn. In full costume. Looking no older than Angelin.
************************************************