Title: Life Is Good: XVII

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

More so for Selina's sake rather than my own, I drove up to Bristol to spend a morning with her on the Saturday exactly three weeks before the wedding. She had been not only juggling the tasks of her matrimonial event, but also Mattie's new routine and Bruce's recovering form, who was still on his "death bed" six days after the accident.

She had phoned me well after midnight the night before, her voice hushed and secretive. I heard soft music in the background and had asked what the cloak and dagger routine was for.

"Barb, it's the first time all week that they have both been asleep at the same time."

I had laughed, "I told you raising kids would be a challenge."

She had sighed and then went silent completely before responding, "Bruce moved his head but I think he's still down for the count. Almost feel sorry for him."

"Yeah, him and his silly splenic and hepatic contusions."

We had decided a morning to ourselves was in order and scheduled breakfast for the next day. To keep Mattie occupied, I convinced Cassandra to join me in the trip out to Bristol. The idea of getting up at seven on a Saturday wasn't too appealing to her at first, but after I mentioned breakfast she was already setting her alarm clock.

At twenty-three after seven, we made our way through the side entrance of the manor. Wafting odors of bacon, blueberry muffins and French toast greeted us. I found robe-clad Selina in the kitchen nook, reading the paper over a cup of coffee with Mattie at her side, playing with maple syrup. When the child looked up and smiled I said, "Looks like someone's enjoying herself."

Selina glanced up and rose, "Great, you're here. Can you keep an eye on her, I have to get some food into Bruce so he can take his meds."

I nodded, "No problem, Cass why don't you get a washcloth out of the kitchen so we can make Mattie look a little bit less of a waffle and more like a Wayne."

It was twenty minutes before Selina returned. She had ditched the robe and changed into black elastic leggings that flared at the bottom of her calves. She wore a dark purple tank top and had redone the bun that partially contained her hair. As I looked closer, I saw fresh dabs of makeup on her face that covered a mottled bruise on her brow and dark smudges beneath her eyes.

We were quiet as Cassandra devoured the remaining French toast slices before sitting back in her chair looking absolutely bored to death. Mattie bore a similar look and I suggested, "Cass, why don't you take her up to the nursery, play with her for a while before her nap."

Cass bolted out of the chair, carefully retrieved the child and left the room with a grin on her face. After I was completely sure they were out of hearing range I asked, "Long night?"

She nodded slowly and sipped coffee. After a deep breath, she massaged her temples, "Longest yet. And of course this was the weekend that Bruce had convinced Alfred to take off. Him and Leslie scooted off to a bed and breakfast somewhere up in Fulton County and won't be back until Sunday night." She paused again and looked out the window at the side "yard". Within less than a month, she and Bruce would exchange vows in that green lush.

Tragedy had been the theme for the entire year and I wondered if similar thoughts coursed her mind.

I asked what happened the night before twice before she finally answered.

"Well, for starters, Mattie was extremely clingy. Put her in the nursery, she would bawl, put her on the bed, she would bawl. Hold her and she would be fine for a while and then she would bawl for Bruce to hold her. And of course he's oh so helpful, lying in the bed, trying to act as if he's not in the worse pain of his life. The man could hardly sit and he was trying to take Mattie from me so that 'I could rest'. He was mumbling something about taking her for a walk but it was nine at night and that was the last thing she needed. But the second he touched her she was instantly quiet, so what choice did I have?"

She looked at me with tired eyes and I encouraged her to continue ranting.

"So I get him back into bed, told him to hold her until she fell asleep and that I was going to wash up and get his meds ready. I'm halfway through my shower, which is the first one I took in two days mind you, and he dashes into the bathroom and pukes his guts up into the toilet."

"Is that normal?"

Selina stabbed the crust of her uneaten French toast with her fork, "The doctor said there would be 'residual' effects and that they would include restlessness, nausea and gut-rearranging vomiting. Hence, Bruce has taken to fasting, which isn't making anything better. He's too weak with fever and fatigue to function on any remotely normal level, which pisses him off even more than being hurt has already. I caught him walking downstairs yesterday morning, alone, and I let him have it. He tried to argue but stopped and simply turned around and went back to bed. Since then he's been in the mopey mood."

"Is he all right, upstairs, all alone?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I tried to get him to wash up this morning, to try and come down and sit for breakfast but he said he was content to lay and rot away."

"What a grouch."

"Just call him Oscar..." she finally ate a piece of the toast, "He is getting better though. At the beginning of the week he would lay there, hardly aware as to what was going on around him. Now he's whining and trying to rebel. Has a doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon for an ultrasound and re-evaluation."

I asked, "Who's watching the munchkin?"

"Dick volunteered, said he needed to talk to Bruce so I bargained with him. If he'd watch Mattie then I would let him talk to Bruce, after the appointment."

"He didn't even barter for ice cream?"

"Oh he did, but an icy glare satisfied his need for frosty treats."

V

By noon, they were still talking but had moved to the den. They were looking over wedding things like guest lists, flower arrangements and the other final touches.

Mattie had fallen asleep and I had put her in the crib to nap. We had played for four hours with nearly every toy she owned. Finally, she settled on dolls and made a small play with them, voicing their lines in her jumbled language.

It had been fun. I laughed more than I had in a long time.

But one of the main reasons why I had wanted to go to the Manor, besides to see her, had been to check on Tim. Over the last week, he had returned to Gotham nightlife in full force, working well past four in the morning even after everyone else had checked in for the night.

After I caught on, I would stay out as long as he did, just in case.

As Batman was on leave for his injuries, Dick had resumed the mantle, against Bruce's wishes. Selina and Alfred had asked him to do it and Leslie threatened Bruce's life if he disobeyed the mandatory two weeks of rest. I asked him for how long the first night out and he said he didn't know.

Not a good sign.

He balanced being Batman and Nightwing just as precisely as he had before. When nights were worse on one city, he would take up that guises and fight crime and leave the other city to our control. Out of five nights, he had spent three in Gotham. On top of that, he was still working in Bludhaven, but had swapped schedules for a few weeks of day shifts.

So dedicated to him.

Before going downstairs, I walked from Mattie's nursery to his bedroom. The door was slightly open and I peered in.

He was in bed, lying beneath thin blankets with his head propped by two pillows. The curtains were drawn and the sunshine hardly peeked through into the dark room. At first I thought he was sleeping but then he coughed, cursed and shifted under the covers a bit.

He needed to rest.

I needed to get out of there before he saw me.

I slid down the banister to make the trip down the stairs quicker. After seeking out Barbara and Selina in the den, I asked if Tim had been around while I was upstairs.

Selina nodded and looked up from a handful of papers, "Yeah, about an hour ago, went down stairs though."

I nodded and then headed for the main hall's grandfather clock.

The Cave was cool, and only a few of the overhead lights were turned on. I followed the sounds of thuds to the training mats where Tim was dressed in black shorts and boxing gloves. The sand bag shifted with every blow he delivered, suggesting the force behind the punches.

After fifteen minutes I walked over and popped out from behind the sand bag and pushed it at him, "Surprise!"

"Agh!" he yelped and dodged the bag but lost his balance and fell on his rear. I laughed as he jumped up, his face red with exhaustion and anger. "What's so funny? I'm trying to get some work done here."

"You are? What work?"

"A work out Cass, I'm sure you've heard of it," he growled before returning his attention to the sand bag.

I sighed and left him for a while and sought refuge in the dressing chamber. When I returned, I wore sleeveless slinky and a pair of nylon leggings. And my own pair of boxing gloves. I walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned, he said, "Cass, leave me alon-- -."

He didn't get to finish because I decked him.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Want to work out? With me, save time."

"What? No, I don't want to."

I shrugged and gave him a soft uppercut, "Too bad."

Instead of being passive and letting things be, he fought back, throwing wild punches and kicks that were so easy to avoid it scared me. With every block I made, I followed through with jabs to his belly or sides, only rattling him further.

I flipped backwards and away from him, encouraging the charge I knew he would make. When he came barreling at me, I stepped aside and tripped him. He sprawled onto the mats and then jumped to his feet, "Cass, knock it off. This isn't getting us anywhere."

"My point exactly."

"What?"

Before he could ponder it, I sank a few jabs into his chest and a cross hook to his shoulder. He prepared to retaliate and a roundhouse to his side flatted him on the mats for the third time in as many minutes.

This time he never rose, but sat up as he removed his gloves and avoided my eyes, "What is your point 'exactly'?"

"Not getting you anywhere, being down here, working all the time." I removed my own gloves and sat on the mats next to him, "Did it for years, did too much. Lost control. Now better, less work, more fun. More family."

"Since when did you become the great philosopher in the bunch?"

I shrugged and wiped a bead of sweat off my brow.

"Cass, you down here? We have to get going," I heard Barbara's voice echo.

"Yeah," I called back as I stood smoothly. I dropped my gloves in Tim's lap and smiled, "Doesn't get you anywhere. But hurt. But dead."

Without a word, I left Tim on the mats and made my way upstairs.

V

As I watched Cass climb the stairs, her words finally sank in.

I didn't adhere to them but I did see her point as being clear as day. She had struggled for years to control herself, her training and her abilities as well as her life. Being bred and raised as the perfect assassin required a certain degree of control, I supposed.

I picked up the gloves and returned them to the equipment storage bin of the training area. I found my towel and water bottle and wiped my face before guzzling cool liquid. I shuffled over to the computer bay, my mind unusually fuzzy. The interruption of Cassandra's had messed up my focus, I decided and sat in the chair at the console. I had been doing well, each day this week, spending six hours in the Cave, three for physical training and three for mental. I was way off from what I wanted to be, no, what I needed to be.

Bruce, Dick, Gotham City needed me to be at my peak, not valley.

I scanned case files and arranged evidence, clues and data in my head before scanning the computerized organized results. As I read a case involving the arson of a bakery, I realized I was hungry. I hadn't eaten since the day before, and that had been lunch with Dick. And we didn't have nearly as much to eat as he had things to say.

He had slept at the Manor after a long night of patrols and joined me in the kitchen for some grub. Alfred had made turkey club sandwiches and fresh lemonade. After a bite of my sandwich, he spoke bluntly, "Tim, I think you're pushing yourself, man. I know you need to get back into the swing of things, but it's okay to take your time. Driving yourself insane isn't going to help matters."

He went on as I sat and stared at him. Going on about how I would falter from exhaustion one day and get myself or others hurt. That he had done the same when he was younger. That he still did occasionally.

He was talking nonsense.

I defended myself quietly, informing him I knew exactly what I was doing and that I didn't need him to be bossing me around. He tried to speak his mind once more, but I grabbed the rest of my sandwich and walked out on him. He had no say in what in I did, no one did.

I had half expected him to follow me, but for once, he left things alone.

After shutting down the computer to sleep mode, I stood, stretched my arms and legs and then walked upstairs to see what I could muster of for some lunch. When I walked into the kitchen, I found Selina at the stove, boiling noodles and stirring a white cream in a saucepan. It took a moment for me to remember that Selina was normal and could fend for herself in the absence of Alfred.

"Hey, there, stranger. Thought I was going to need an excavation team to bring you up to the civilized world."

I smiled weakly, "What's that?"

"Oh, nothing, a little Fettuccini Alfred's-not-here-o. Hungry?"

I nodded slowly as I sought out plates and forks for us. Ten minutes later, we were seated at the counter top, twirling noodles and dipping garlic bread. She had left a half a serving in the pan and I asked, "For Mattie?"

"No, I roused her already, she ate a banana and some peanut butter then promptly fell asleep. Cass really tired her out; I'll have to send the girl a gift. That's for Bruce if I pour it down his gullet."

After finishing off our meal in silence, I took the dishes and rinsed them as Selina made up a dish for Bruce. As I loaded the dishwasher, I asked, "How is he? I haven't seen him since Thursday."

"Better, his system's still out of whack, but it's going to be. I still don't trust him moving around on his own though. But he is starting to get adventurous and sick of being in bed."

"That's a good sign."

"I suppose," she paused, "You want to come up? I'm going up right now."

After a sigh, I shook my head, "No, I've got a lot of work to do."

"You sure?"

I nodded and wiped my hands with a washcloth, "Yeah, maybe later. Give him my best," and I left her alone. Probably not the most chivalrous of my moves, but what had to be done had to be done. After I washed up a bit in the first floor bathroom, I returned to the cool solitude that only the Cave could offer me.

V

When I snuck into the bedroom, I set the still warm bowl of linguini on the end table and then checked on Mattie. After peering through the cracked door, I saw her in the crib, sitting and playing with her doll and her panther. Letting her be, I returned to Bruce's side.

Instead of turning the lights on, I settled for a bedside lamp to illuminate the immediate area. He moaned quietly and I slapped his thigh through the blankets, "Oh quit, you're not dying."

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled, "Your guts aren't on fire."

I sighed and sat on the bed next to him, "You have a bottle of Codine on the bathroom counter with the same number of tablets in it the day it was brought here, so don't whine about it."

"Wasn't whining," he said as he sat up in the bed very slowly, "Just voicing my opinion."

"Well, I would love to hear your opinion after you have something to eat. Brought up some plain noodles, you think you can slop them back down the old food tube?"

He glanced over at the dish on the end table and then scratched at a suture on his arm. I glared at him as if to say "it won't heal if you don't stop picking at it" and he stopped. He pushed the covers off of his legs carefully and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, facing away from me. The few cuts he had on his back from the accident were sutured and well into the healing stage. Not even two days after he had been released, all bandages were removed and he refused to have them replaced.

That good old Bruce iron will.

"You okay?" I asked as he paused in the sitting position.

"Yeah," he sighed, "Need to take a shower. Smell like a foot."

I rose and walked around to his side, sniffed his hair and grinned before kissing his brow, "That you do. Come on, upsa-daisy."

I wrapped my arm around his back and offered for him to lean on me as he stood. After he was on his own two feet, I walked over and started running warm water in the bathtub. Standing for a shower was out of the question after six days on his back. By the time he joined me in the bathroom, the tub was full.

"Almost sent a search party for you," I grinned as he glanced at himself in the mirror. He had a scruffy beard that aged him by a decade, as did his still recovering haircut. The cut on his cheek was a little red but not as sore looking as the sutured gash on his brow. Amidst the numerous other wounds on his form, both old and new, it was truly no big deal. And that was what made it even worse.

I turned away as he removed his flannel pants and eased into the tub. In doing so, I retrieved a washcloth and a bar of mild antibacterial soap. I set a folded tile over the rim of the tub and sat on it. After dipping the towel in the water, I lathered the soap up and then softly scrubbed his back, shoulders and arms, carefully avoiding the angry wounds. As I did so, he found a safety razor and bottle of cream from the in-wall shelf next to the tub.

Before he started, I took them away from him, and he protested, "I think I can shave myself."

"I'm sure you can, but not with raspberry shaving lotion and my leg blade."

A smirk crossed his lips, "Oops."

When I gave him his razor and shaving cream, he went to work, relocating the strong jaw that was buried beneath the mess of dark gray fuzz. I left him to wash his lower half and found a clean robe and towel for when he was done in addition to a pair of slippers. And Alfred had been concerned leaving Bruce for the whole weekend...

I tried to help him out of the tub, but as usual, he refused. Not about to argue with him, I retrieved Mattie, who had still been playing quietly, and returned to the bedroom. We had brought her dolls, panther and a blanket with us so that we could go about playing on the floor space beside the bed. Bruce emerged from the bathroom in the robe a few minutes later and our daughter's head turned when he said, "There's my kitten."

She dropped her doll, rolled over onto her hands and knees before quickly pushing herself up to toddle over to him. He scooped her up and held her in his arms. She giggled in delight, repeating his name over and over. An hour earlier he had looked fresh from the grave, but right then and there, he looked like his usual self.

He brought Mattie over to the floor and reclined slowly, only wincing twice. Once the three of us were settled on the carpet, Mattie handed out toys for us to play with and then narrated quietly to herself. With her attention diverted I said, "Bruce I need to ask you a favor."

"Anything," he replied as Mattie moved to sit on his lap.

"This is a Bruce task, not a pointy-eared task, mind you."

He nodded as he held a cloth doll up next to Mattie's stuffed panther.

I spoke quietly and calmly, explaining the week he had spent outside of the real world in as much detail as I could muster. Events, places, times, literally the whole kit and caboodle. When I asked him the favor, he sighed deeply the way he does when he's uncomfortable but surprisingly he replied, "I'll do it," instead of his customary grumble.

He played with Mattie for a few more minutes, then got up, dressed in jeans and a dark sweater before leaving the room quietly. Leaving the noodles untouched.

"Your Daddy is a man on a mission, Mattie."

She lifted the panther, "Mah-mie pay kitt-ie."

I smiled, kissed the top of her head and took the panther generously before leaning over, "Mrrrooww."

V

Despite the fact that my body had been in agony all week, getting up and moving about was less painful than I had thought. My joints were stiff from inactivity and the muscles strained and screamed with each step, but quieted some once the blood was moving. By the bottom of the stairs, I was breathing a bit quickly in response to my anti-bed ridden campaign.

But despite how I felt, I knew he felt worse.

Selina's concern was suppressed but still present. Dick had mentioned similar troubles the other day when he had visited, but I had been half asleep and hardly inept enough to make light of such an important conversation. And as I made my way to the main hall, I recalled Alfred stating his worries to me just as I returned home from the hospital. And yet I had been too involved with Selina and myself and hadn't done anything about it.

The coolness of the cave sent a slight chill down my back and I was thankful that I picked the sweater. Lights flickered from below and I suddenly wondered if one of the halogens were faltering. As I neared the base of the steps, still concealed in darkness, I saw the main display monitor portraying moving images.

Tim stood fifteen feet away from the monitor bay, dressed in black shorts and had blindfolded himself. A training mat had been dragged from the training area thirty yards away as to provide a work place for the young man. As I stood and watched him perform several repetitions of a diverse array of open hand maneuvers, I recognized the stance and form of Shaolin. I counted as he performed eighteen Luohan Hands, Luohan Fists, Luohan Palms, and several Big Hong Fists, before a handful of Continuous Fists, and then six Harmony Continuous Fists.

Just as he began the five Animal Fists, he caught himself, stopped and cursed loudly. Bats shrieked from above and sought out deeper and quieter refuges in the cave. He removed the blindfold and walked over to the desk, mumbling to himself. He rewound the film stream and stared as the figure on the screen moved backwards. I took the diversion as an opportunity to step further into the cave and to hide in a crevice with a better point of view. When he stopped it and put it back into play, I recognized the documentary tape I had made of myself years ago, recording my methods and progress of training. They had been encrypted into the crays, thought to have been buried forever.

I had brought some out for easy reference for Cassandra, who had been quite the interested pupil. But those would be of no interest to Tim. He needed more to work from.

He studied the screen before reaching for the blindfold. Just as he was about to pull it back over his eyes, I cleared my throat, "It never looks right on screen. Always better in real life."

He jumped and spun around towards me, "Bruce, what are you doing down here?"

I walked over to him slowly, trying act casually as Selina suggested. I drew in a breath before replying, "It is my cave."

He nodded quickly, "Well, sure, but I thought you were in bed. Are you okay?"

"As okay as I can be. How about you?"

"Me? I'm fine, I wasn't the one you ate asphalt at forty-five miles per an hour."

"Touché," I replied as I sat at the console's single chair. My side had grown sore from the trip down and sitting helped a little. Not much, but at that point I took what relief I could.

He returned to the computer console and tried to hit the escape button to shut down the video reel. I held my hand up and blocked his. He started to apologize, "Bruce, I can explain, I was looking for---."

"Don't worry. I guess it's why I made them in the first place. For reference."

I looked up and watched a much younger and less scathed version of myself perform flawless Shaolin techniques, one movement moving fluidly into another. I had studied with a master in the Henan province for six months and the end result had surprised even myself. I had hardly been twenty at the time, fresh from travels around the world that had rejuvenated my once solemn soul.

He watched along with me.

After the video ended, I closed the file and turned to face him. His gaze had settled on the floor until I cleared my throat. Once our eyes were locked I said, "Tim, did you know that your determination was the main reason I took you on as a partner."

He shook his head, "Thought it was because I figured out your identity."

I smirked briefly, "That helped, but it wasn't the true reasoning behind it. The determination to find out who Batman was, to become Robin, to be your best has made you an invaluable member of this team." I rose slowly, paused and then set a hand on his bare shoulder, "Of this family."

A look of puzzlement came over his features and I offered comfort for I wasn't through with him, "As a result, it would be foolish for me to allow this determination to run yourself ragged to continue any further. It stops right here, right now."

"Bruce, I---"

I spoke harsher than I had intended to, "It is not open for discussion. No excuses, from what I've been told, your behavior of late has been on the verge of self-destructive. You are not a machine, you can not survive like that."

He spoke clearly and coolly, "You do."

I looked away from and to the blank monitor, recalling thousands of sleepless nights and days, no rest, no food, just pain and misery. Instead of giving him a bland excuse, I stated, "What I do is not always the best for others."

"But it might be for me. Why can't it be for me?"

Suddenly, he looked very young and very tired. I forced myself to get his eye contact again before replying, "Because what I do… is not always the best course. I made those documentaries to show that I had perfected yet another form. Another method. Another tool for this job. I never saw them as accomplishments for myself, but for the quest. Alfred always mused that I would never be content with my efforts because perfection was not satisfying to me. It only made me drive towards another goal to master it. And another. And another."

I walked away from him, towards the idle Batmobile. Tim was motionless, as if he had gone into shock. I wouldn't have doubted it. I hardly believed that I was telling him the things that passed through my lips.

When I spoke again, he had stepped forward to follow me, "And that's why I can survive the way I do. I perfected near self-destruction, Tim, and I very well could pass it on to you or Dick or Cassandra, but I won't. I've always allowed you to learn from your mistakes. Just as I had. But this is not a mistake I will grant you."

We stood together, staring off into oblivion.

After a few minutes he asked, "Bruce?"

I turned to face Tim. His face was lit in a bit of a smile, as if he had an ingenious plot brewing behind his blue eyes. "Yes, Tim?"

"Did you just admit that you make mistakes?"

Before I could reply "Yes he did!" was shouted from the stairs. Just as we looked up, we caught a glance of Selina trotting back up the stairs to the entrance in full retreat.

I helped him return the mats to the training area and then went about shutting off the lights. I told Tim to run upstairs to shower and dress, and that we would finish this later. He smiled, winked at me and then followed his orders.

Good soldier.

Good son.

The only light that remained reflected sharply off the glass case in the center of the main floor. I walked over and wiped the brass plaque with the sleeve of my sweater until it sparkled. After a long glance over the yellow cape and robin red uniform, I walked over to the base of the stairs and shut the light off.

I thought back on a how many times the Robin uniform had been bloodied because of my mistakes.

Lots of mistakes.

V