Title: Life Is Good: XV

Author: D C Luder

Summary: The second addition in the Series of Three storyline. Se three months after his full recovery, the Dark Knight is back with a vengeance.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

V

Our dinner reservations were for eight.

As I stood out in the hall at the head of the stairs, my watch clearly showed it to be eight-eighteen. I had let him put Mattie to bed, thinking how it would help him feel that she was safely tucked away and not in any trouble. Alfred and Leslie were going to be at the house until we returned, since Cassie was in town staying at Barbara's and eagerly awaiting patrol. Even still he couldn't let her go.

With a sigh, I tucked back a straying lock of hair and walked back towards Mattie's room. Bruce had been with her for nearly a half of an hour, having gotten ready for dinner long before I had. Dressed in one of his finest black three-piece suits, he looked sharper than ever with a clean- shaven jaw and a recent haircut that revealed a few more grays than he had hoped for. Bruce sat in the rocking chair, Mattie nestled in his arms and wrapped in a pale blue blanket, moving slowly in unison. Back and forth, back and forth. His voice was quiet and soothing and I listened with a faint smile on my face.

"Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree, up went pussycat, and down went he. Down came pussy, and away Robin ran; says little Robin Redbreast, 'Catch me if you can!'..." he paused to touch her hand gently, "Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a wall, pussy cat jumped after him, and almost got a fall. Little Robin chirped and sang, and what did pussy say? Pussy cat said, "Mew," and Robin jumped away."

She yawned soundlessly as her tiny fingers wrapped around his index finger. He looked up at me and nodded before slowly rising out of the chair. I walked over, kissed her brow and then his cheek, "Ready?"

"Yeah," he pressed his lips over the spot I had just kissed on our daughter's forehead and then gently placed her in the crib. Once she was adequately nestled, he checked the baby monitor six times to be sure that it was on and then guided me out of the room with a hand on my back.

Just as we made it to the side door, Alfred appeared asking if Mattie had been settled in for the night, Bruce updated him on the last time she had been fed and changed. After I started tapping my foot, he glanced over in my direction, and then said to Alfred, "We'll be at Gerondol's, call if you need us."

With that Alfred turned to leave the room and I hooke my arm with Bruce's, dragging him to the garage, "Come on, Bruce, I'll even let you drive."

Traffic was light for the beginning of the weekend and we made good time. After twelve minutes of soft music in the car and no conversation, I leaned over in my seat and rested my head on his shoulder. He looked down at me and relaxed the muscles of his arm slightly as he steered cautiously.

After two months of normal life, as in him being gone twenty hours a day and asleep or playing with Mattie whenever he was home, I had asked him out on a date. He had been at work and I had called him during his lunch break, even though I knew he wasn't eating anything. He claimed to be heading just out the door when I had put Mattie on the phone.

She had babbled at him for five minutes, telling him her favorite colors and elaborated on what toy she was holding. I had heard his replies and encouragements whenever she pronounced words correctly. She signed off with "Luvie dahie" and dropped the phone as Isis walked by. I salvaged it and asked how his day was going.

And then asked him out for a night of dinner and dancing.

He had grumbled, relented the fact that he was very busy and after a moment of silence he said, "How's Friday?"

As I smiled, thinking back on the phone call, he shifted the car into third and took the Downtown exit that would lead us over the bridge and into the city. I looked at the city skyline and grinned to see no sign of helicopters, Bat-signals or any other indication of crime happening.

Sorry, Gotham, Batman's mine for now.

He sighed and I tickled the back of his neck. He smirked, tried to brush me away and then shrugged a bit before asking, "What?"

"Nothing. Can't say I don't mind the haircut, nice and short."

He grumbled, "Summer time, needs to be short."

"Little itchy under the cowl, eh?"

He nodded, "Never understood how you did it all those years, you had ten times the hair I had."

I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and whispered in his ear, "Women tolerate things better than men, what can I say?"

He laughed quietly before his face went slack. I felt Bruce's shoulder bunch suddenly as his gaze locked straight ahead. He pushed me back into my seat and then down shifted suddenly and swerved to the right. I was about to ask what was wrong before I saw it for myself.

The car was heading straight at us. Large black SUV going the wrong way on a three lane one-way street with three police cars in grand pursuit. Bruce swore loudly as fellow drivers, who were blindly trying to avoid the oncoming vehicle, boxed him in. He was bumped slightly from the car behind us and was put centrally in the middle lane. My breath was trapped in my chest as I locked eyes with the driver in the pursued car just before impact.

The music of Plexiglas shattering, metal crunching and tires squealing echoed forever in my head.

When I opened my eyes, I felt a crushing pain in my chest as the airbag exploded and enveloped me. My face burned and I felt shattered glass scrape my arms. After an eternity, I let the air out of my lungs and leaned back against my seat, my left hand reaching over to touch Bruce...

"Bruce?" I coughed as I felt and empty seat beside me. The air smelt of smoke and burnt rubber. At first I thought he had been thrown forward, against the steering wheel, but it was still empty. It took a full minute to realize Bruce was no longer beside me.

And another five seconds before sheer panic took over me.

V

"Nice Scan-master, commish," Harvey commented as he leaned against the doorframe of my office. He smirked as he watched me tinker with the new scanner Barbara had gotten me for my birthday. It received over 5000 frequencies and doubled as an emergency radio. Not too shabby, for it being high technology and all.

After programming a few most used frequencies in, I set it to the standard police one and listened in. There was a police chase on the off ramp of St. James going northbound on a southbound road. The 45th Precinct was on in it, in addition to the Highway Patrol and Air Search. But it was still my city and still my problem.

Just as I sat on the edge of my desk, a transmission came through, "This is 345 requesting EMS, mile marker 103 on St. James South. 345 requesting medical at mile marker 103 on St. James South. Two vehicle MVA, head on collision, suspect was involved in accident, three victims total..."

And then the response from Emergency Services, "345, this is Emergency Dispatch, we have two units en route, ETA 10 minutes. Request for medical acknowledged, please advise, suspect will be transported to Mercy."

"Damn, missed that, woulda love ta seen that SOB take a header, you hear he nearly ran over two officers going through that road block?" Harvey commented as he pushed a toothpick into his mouth.

Montoya stepped up beside him, "Harv, that perp just collided with civilians, I don't see how that would have been amusing."

He frowned, "Still, I hope he got banged up enough to think about what he done," and then walked away.

Montoya shook her head and followed her partner back down the hall. Although they were nearly true opposites, Detectives Harvey Bullock and Renee Montoya were the most finely tuned detective machines in the city. One pair I would never want to see lost to the crookedness that shattered the backbone of the department years ago.

I decided to file a few over due reports, look over prospective applicants and a portion of the mountain of mail that had been on my desk all week. Ten minutes after the scanner had sputtered the request for medical, it came to life once more, "Unit 12 to Mercy, Unit 12 to Mercy."

"Come in Unit twelve," was the response.

I reached over to turn the volume down but still listened, "Two victims on the scene, third will be DOA. First is a thirty seven year-old white male, projected through the windshield of the car, landed fifteen feet from the scene, severe head, chest and abdominal trauma, some arterial wounds to the face and arms. Pulse 120, Resp 25, Temp 100, pupils reactive but sluggish..."

My phone rang and I answered on the second ring as the medics went on about the human damage that creep had caused.

"Gordon here."

"J-Jim... Oh, god, Jim..." a ragged female voice spoke.

"Who is this?" I asked, thinking a prank call.

"Bruce, oh, god, Jim..." and then a muffled voice in the background, some sirens, "Ma'am, we need to get you in the ambulance. You need to hang up, now."

"Wait, who is this? Selina?"

"Jim, he's gone."

And then a dial tone.

I turned towards the scanner as my jaw dropped upon hearing the medics final remarks, "---thirty five year-old white female, flash burns from airbag, minimal head trauma, some lacerations to the face and arms, stable vitals, conscious but in shock. Pulse..."

I shut it off and frantically dialed Bruce's cell phone number.

Instead of his smooth baritone message, an operator's nasal voice responded, "The number you have dialed is unavailable. Please call back and try again later."

I hung up and called Selina's number. Similarly, no one answered that was human. Unsure as what to do, I ended up calling Barbara, praying the entire time that she was already situated in her Oracle station and had heard of the accident.

She answered her home number on the third ring, "Dad? What's wrong?"

"Honey, please, just listen to me. Where are Bruce and Selina?"

"Why?"

"Barbara, where are they?" I barked.

She paused, "Selina had called earlier, said they were going out to dinner in town. Dad, what's going on?"

I hung up on her and stared out my window. The only way into town from the Bristol Bridge was to take St. James. St. James South. I called into dispatch, pulled rank and had them tell me what the make, model and owner of the second vehicle was in the accident.

"Sure, thing Commish, was a hot ride too. Crunched now, though, let's see... 2004 Black Mercedes, SLK Class sedan, License plate BWE – 526, registered to... Wayne, Bruce. Holy shit, commis---."

I hung up on him, unintentionally when I dropped the phone on the floor, resulting in the cord being pulled out of the receiver. No, it wasn't possible. I wouldn't believe it until I saw it for myself. I grabbed my keys and coat and dashed for the elevator, my mind trying to come up with any reason for Bruce and Selina to not have been in that car. It was stolen, he had lent it to a friend, he had sold it recently...

Anything to get my mind off the fact that one of the two male victims had died and that Selina's last words to me had been "he's gone."

V

We had been watching some movie about horses and cowboys when the phone had rung. Barbara answered and from her tone and words I knew it was her father.

The Commissioner.

They talked about where they were. Out to dinner. A night off, sort of. He had said he would be late for patrols but I didn't mind. More fun for me.

Barbara hung up and stared at me, "That was weird, Dad wanted to know where Bruce and Selina were. Sounded too upset for it to be anything good. Turn it to channel 3, the news will be on if something's up."

I sighed, stopped the movie just as it was getting to be interesting and turned the cable on. The screen was that of two news anchors at the regular station with a small picture of a crashed car in the corner above their heads. The male reporter spoke first, "... And Ted in the Sky with 5 is reporting live one hundred feet above the accident scene. Ted?"

The next shot was of an older black man wearing a helmet and holding a microphone in the belly of a news chopper, "Thanks Carter. Gotham City Police were in pursuit of a young man who had carjacked a vehicle with the car's owner still inside. Even with the failed attempt of a roadblock, the victim was rescued after jumping out of the vehicle but the driver of the car pushed on and moved on to travel north on the southern extension of St. James Street. Near mile marker 103, the driver collided head on with a civilian vehicle, bringing a sudden and bloody end to the car chase. As you can see below, the vehicles have practically collapsed with one another, officers at the scene suggest that the vehicles had been traveling at a similar speed that was estimated to be forty five miles per an hour. Traffic is backed up for miles as the police have begun to barricade the road off to traffic access. The civilian driver was thrown from the vehicle while the passenger remained locked within---"

"Oh my God," I heard Barbara utter. I turned to look and saw her face as pale as snow, her lower lip trembling in fear. She turned abruptly and raced for the phone while I turned my attention back to the screen.

Ted had continued, "And, wait, yes it has been confirmed that the second driver that was victimized in the accident was none other than billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne, his fiancée Selina Kyle riding as passenger. Both have been taken to the Gotham Mercy Hospital and are both considered to be in critical condition. Sure looks like real serious situation here at---."

I rose suddenly and dashed right past Barbara and into my room. In seconds, I sought out my suit and began to put it on. Without me being aware, Barbara came to my door, "No, Cass, he needs you, not Batgirl."

"But---."

She interrupted me, "Cassandra, he needs you," and then turned and left me alone.

But what could I have done by not being Batgirl? What could be done for him that required the plain me? I stared at her, saw the pain in her eyes and then nodded my head before retrieving my street clothes. As I put them back on, I bit my lip so that I wouldn't think about him.

Being hurt.

Again.

Helpless.

Again.

I felt a hot tear drip out of the corner of my eye and quickly wiped it away. He needed me. He didn't need me to be a crybaby. He needed me to be strong.

When Barbara returned, I was dressed and ready, sitting on my bed and looking out the window. She came over to me and touched my arm, "Cass, I'm going down to the hospital, to make some sense out of this. Dick's going to meet me there. Do you want to go to the Manor, stay here? What do you want to do?"

I wanted to fight for him.

I wanted to start the day over.

"I want to go with you."

V

"Madam, I believe that is gin."

"Alfred, you really need to stop winning," I sighed as he laid out his cards. It was his fourth victory in a row. And he was starting to gloat about it. Old coot. He smiled at that and I rose to touch his face, "Now, I quit this time, I'm going to get something to drink and no you can not get it for me. Why don't you fix that fire up a bit and pick a book out," and when I was at the door, "Preferably something of the Walt Whitman variety."

The halls were well lit but still darker than the den where Alfred and I had been for the last two hours. I allowed my old eyes to adjust before I climbed the three sets of stairs. At ten, Mattie had been roused, fed and left awake for a spell so I could cuddle with my favorite baby. After she had fallen asleep, I had put her back down to await her parents' return.

I turned the kitchen lights on and walked briskly over the cool marble floors. I poured two glasses of cranberry juice, spike them with rum and then sought out a plate and selected several muffins from the basket on the far counter. Balancing the dishes with the grace of a teenage waitress, I made my way back to the den, being sure to shut the lights off behind me.

Instead of sitting on the big leather couch with a book of poetry, he stood somberly towards the wall, talking quietly into the phone. I smiled, thinking that it was probably Bruce, making sure that everything was all right. Ever since she had been diagnosed with asthma, he was never settled when he was away from her, and probably never would be. I thought to myself that it would only get worse when she discovered boys...

Alfred nodded, then hung the phone up slowly. He sighed before turning to face me, his features drawn tightly into a frown. I set our drinks and snacks on the end table and turned the lamp that sat beside them on.

To lighten his mood, I stepped closer, "What, are they coming back already to end our evening alone?"

He shook his head and led me to the couch.

"Leslie," said shakily, "There was an accident."

"What accident, do I need to get back to the clinic?" I asked, but quickly realized that wasn't what he was telling me. His hazel eyes were glassed over as he stared at me. "Alfred, what accident?" I asked with more sternness in my voice than I had intended.

A mother's love for her children often times turned rather offensive.

"Master Bruce---" he bit his lip, "And Ms. Kyle were involved in an automobile accident..."

He squeezed my hand gently as he continued to speak, giving me the vague details he knew. It took a moment for it to register in my mind, however. The floodgates had opened and every image of Bruce and Selina I had in my mind flashed before my eyes. Bruce's teary eyed face as he stared at the portrait of his parents. Selina, younger, bolder and yet always willing to lend a hand. I felt breathless, helpless and hopeless all at once.

I felt just as I had when I held Bruce in my arms after his parents had died.

"I'll go get Mattie," I said suddenly and quickly rose to fetch her. I needed something to do, someone close that I could actually care for. I took the stairs much more quickly than I had an hour earlier. As carefully as possible, I lifted Mattie from the crib and grabbed her travel bag, blanket and stuffed panther. I had to make sure she would be as comfortable as possible, considering the night would in fact be a long one.

When I returned to the hall, Alfred was waiting, looking pale in the dark hall. "Ready?" I asked, my tone far too professional for the situation at hand.

He drove carefully, selecting one of the sturdiest SUVs in the garage. We all sat stock still, seat belted in tight and stared straight ahead. The exit for downtown was under police barricade so the trip to Mercy was thirty minutes longer than it had to be.

As we drove parallel to St. James, I saw the floodlights that highlighted the scene, tow trucks and the on and off flashes of police cars.

I saw what was left of Bruce's car.

I lost it.

Sobs erupted from deep within me as my hands flew to my face to fight off the tears. Alfred's hand settled on my shoulder and I heard his voice uttering soothing words but was unable to listen to them. I did my best to quiet myself, so that I wouldn't wake Mattie.

Had to care for her.

"Leslie, dear," I finally heard him. After a deep breath I managed to look up at him. Always the rock, the unwavering shoulder that absorbed a thousand tears. I added a few more as I leaned into his arm.

My cell phone chirped from my coat pocket. After composing myself a bit, I answered, "Dr. Thompkins."

"Leslie, it's Dick. How is everything?" he asked, his voice clearly not questioning me in a casual manner. He knew.

"We're okay, for now. Alfred, Mattie and I are on our way. Had to take a—a detour, road is still closed," my voice faded as my throat constricted. I forced myself to breathe, "What have you heard?"

"Not much," he sighed. "I just got here, Barb is a wreck but she's been reaming out everyone who treated them. So far, she found out that Selina had to be sedated because she went ballistic on the doctors because they wouldn't let her go to Bruce. She's not too bad, they said a concussion and some sutures were needed for her wounds."

"And Bruce?"

He paused. A long pause.

"Dick, what's his condition?"

"Bad. They took him up for emergency surgery shortly after he came into the ER. Lot of torso trauma," he paused, cursed then sighed, "Leslie, when they do the CT scan on his head, they'll see it."

"It" did not need to be clarified. "It" was the bullet that had nearly killed him two years earlier. One that Bruce Wayne had no reason to have. I cringed; thinking the ruckus it would ensue. If Bruce had suffered head trauma, the scans were needed to pinpoint the damage. But if they saw the bullet...

"What do you want to do Leslie?"

I paused before answering, "I'll take care of it."

After hanging up with him, I dialed the number for Mercy and then tapped in the digits for the radiology department. I was good friends with the chief of radiology, Marcus Starling. When he picked up the phone after the second ring he seemed genuinely surprised and pleased to hear from me. I offered a bit of small talk before asking my favor.

"Leslie… If there are complications…"

"There won't be. Please, just analyze the scans yourself and find a similar set. If this gets out…"

There was a long pause before he sighed, "All right. But if there's something major---."

"Then call me… I can't tell you how much this means to me."

"I can tell it all from the sound of your voice, Leslie…"

V

One week later and it would have been his anniversary with near death.

Seven days exactly, and it would have been the anniversary of Pasqualle's last stand.

Guess May wasn't your month, Bruce.

I sat in Selina's recovery room in a chair that was far from comfortable. My last time waiting around in a hospital had been with Mattie. But then it had been hardly scary, since we had known Mattie was going to be okay. I had sat next to her slumbering form while watching sitcoms on the wall- mounted TV.

In Selina's room, I stared at her bruised and bandaged face, watching as her chest rose and fell with each breath. Barbara and Cass were also in the room, but I could hardly feel their presence. I could only concentrate on the even sounds of Selina's breathing.

Leslie said she was going to handle the brain scan problem and the only way she could suggest some rather serious and devious behavior. And being the sweet, kindly, older woman that she was, it was difficult to picture her having staff switch films to protect Bruce.

But friends in the right places always paid off, everyone knew that.

"Mhmmm."

The sound of moaning shook me from my thoughts. Selina's eyes were still closed, but her hand had risen to probe the tender flesh of her cheek. Her movements were clumsy and sluggish, the sedatives still working their wonders on her system. When they wore off and she remembered what happened, there was no telling what she would do.

"Selina?" Barbara asked as she moved closer and touched the reclining woman's arm. She jerked slightly and then looked towards Barb.

"Whuh..." she managed before wincing.

"Take it easy, Selina, you're pretty banged up," I said as I rose and stood beside her bed.

She drew a few deep breaths, winced again and spoke, "Hurt all over. Can hardly breathe."

"Bruised ribs," Cassandra said softly.

"Try pureed ribs," Selina replied, wrapping her IV free arm around her diaphragm.

The room returned to silence for a brief moment as Selina slowly sat up. Once comfortable she asked, "How's Bruce? He's probably up and walking by now." I cringed and looked away from her. She saw and her breath hitched, "Dick?" By the time I faced her again, tears brimmed her eyes and a scowl marked her broken lip. "Richard, where is he?"

Barbara spoke first, "They took him upstairs, said they were going to send someone down to talk once they had surgery underway."

"What surgery?" she asked, her scowled fading into a trembling lower lip.

She continued, "He was thrown from the car, Selina---"

Selina growled, "I know that, I felt the seat after we crashed and he wasn't there, don't tell me something I know, tell me what's wrong with him."

Barbara paused and then resumed as steadily and calmly as possible, retelling what little we knew. Severe chest and abdominal trauma, possible head injury, severe lacerations and road burn. Elevated vitals that wouldn't settle despite the shock that coursed his system. Blood loss. After Barb's run down of things, Selina broke into tears, quiet, sobless tears. I watched as she stared at her engagement ring, caressed it with a finger and then covered it with her bare hand. She then lifted her hands and covered her face as she wept.

I had to get out of there.

Passing a wide eyed Barbara and a grief stricken Cassandra, I made my out into the hall and dashed down the corridor towards the exits. Once outside I looked up at the cloudless sky and screamed. Passerbys stared briefly but then when about their business. When my lungs burned and my throat was dry, I grew quiet.

And then I felt the boiling rumble of bile rise to the back of my throat. A quick dash to nearest patch of lawn and I let my guts loose until dry heaves racked my body. I fell to my knees, out of breath and strength, feeling nothing but pain and fear.

Until I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and heard the tobacco-scarred voice I had grown up with, "It's all right, son, let it out."

Jim Gordon knelt beside me and wrapped an arm around my back as I leaned my head into the crook of his neck. Through quiet sobs I asked the inevitable, "Why him?"

He had no answer, but he patted my back and offered the only words he could, "I don't know, Dick. I don't know."

It took a long while to get myself under control and when I did, Jim helped me to my feet and led me inside. We walked the halls of the ER to the recovery rooms where I had left my family moments earlier. As we rounded the bend, I saw Barb and Cass in the hall and Selina's door shut. I glanced through the small window in the wall and peeked through Venetian blinds to see a tall, older doctor sitting on the edge of her bed and talking quietly and calmly.

"Who's that?" I finally asked.

"Chief of medicine. Bruce's high profile status dragged him out of his office to come down here and talk with us."

"Her," Cassandra corrected, "Not allowed in there."

Barbara nodded, "All he told us was that he was still in the OR but that everything was running smoothly."

"Real helpful," I heard Jim mutter.

I sighed and leaned against the wall, "Selina will fill us in later. She deserves to know first."

After a beat, Jim asked, "Has anyone been by to question her about the accident?"

We all shook our heads but Barbara spoke, "Not that I know of, but I don't know if Selina would be up to giving a statement right now."

He huffed and then scanned the lobby and spotted two uniformed officers talking with a group of nurses, "Well, maybe I can see what they have done." With that he straightened his tie and strode off towards them, a look in his eye that scared even me.

The hallway as alive with activity, people passing by on foot, in wheelchairs and on gurneys. We grouped together in front of Selina's door staring at our feet, at the lights, at the posters on the wall promoting safe sex and TB testing. Anywhere but at each other.

"Has anyone called Tim?" I asked suddenly, studying the laces on my shoes.

Barbara spoke quietly, "No," and began to rummage for her cell phone.

Once she found it, I looked over and offered my hand, "I'll call him." She nodded and handed the device over. Before I left to return outdoors, I said, "Come get me when the doctor comes out."

Both women nodded.

Tim's room phone went unanswered, but I managed to get him on the cell.

"Tim-may!" he called out. Loud music was in the background and lots of voices singing along or just chattering. A sudden roar of applause and then silence as Tim's voice returned, "Barbara?"

"No, it's me Tim, what are you doing?"

"Oh, man, I should have called you, the Head-masturbator got Green Day to come perform before commencement. I think the whole school's out here on the Quad."

I heard the band start to pick up again, "Wow, Tim, that's awesome."

"So what's up? Need anything?"

I felt a finger tap my shoulder and spun around to see Cassandra, "He wants to talk to you."

I covered the phone, "I'll be right in." and then to Tim, "Listen, Bro, I'll call you in the morning, have fun, don't get trampled in the pit."

He laughed and said, "I'll get a shirt for you," and then hung up.

I sighed and closed the connection. He would hate me for telling him later, but I wasn't about to let anyone else's night be ruined. He would forgive me.

I wouldn't forgive myself.

V