Paradox

Chapter Four

By: VincentM

When Batman returned from his day job and Robin from school, Richie didn't notice right away. Shoulder deep within the innards of the time machine, trying to reconnect the internal power source, Richie's world narrowed to circuits, wires, and a series of ones and zeros. It wasn't until Robin cleared his throat that he became aware of their presence.

"How's it going?" Robin asked him as he crawled out of the machine. Batman stood silently by the younger boy's side.

"Well," Richie said, standing up and rubbing his neck, "I think I just reinvented physics, but it should be working."

"Good," Batman said, stepping back. He reached out a hand a dragged Robin back with him when it was clear the other boy originally intended to remain standing far too close to the machine. "Activate it."

Richie nodded, typing with lightening speed on a keyboard attached to Backpack, which was in turn linked to the time machine. The machine hummed, a green glow lightening the cavern around them, reflecting off of Richie's helmet in an almost eerie fashion. Energy crackled from one node to the other, the powerful combination of physics, math, and a little luck making the very air feel electrified. To Richie, it wasn't terribly disturbing. It sort of reminded him of when he stood too close to Virgil sometimes.

"Here goes everything," he whispered, holding his breath and crossing his fingers.

The machine sparked and sputtered in an impressive light show and then.... it died.

"Dammit," Richie muttered, getting back on his knees and checking several readouts, trying to figure out what went wrong. He heard Robin sigh.

"So, now what?" the younger boy asked impatiently.

Richie waved him silent. Staring at the display upon his helmet's faceguard, he double-checked the programming. Everything looked okay on that end. No, he had a feeling it was the internal power source. From how Batman described the accident that sent his best friend to the future in the first place, Richie understood a great deal about the condition of the machine as he first saw it. Many of the internal circuits were fried from Virgil's powers, and he'd been forced to replace most of the hardware. Apparently, he'd missed something.

He stared up at another readout on Batman's screen, frowning. "If I'm reading this right," he said, "one of power couplings is out of alignment. Fixing it by hand would take hours, unless..."

Richie paused, looking critically at the machine, letting his brain do the hard work for him. An idea popped into his head and he grinned. Simple, yet stylish. Richie liked it when things worked out like that. Crossing the room, he dug through Batman's toolkit, knowing exactly what he needed.

"Man this sucks," Robin was saying. "How are you going to..."

Richie stood up, cutting off Robin's speech by waving the tool he'd sought in front of the other boy's face.

"I'm going to hit it with a hammer," Richie informed the Boy Wonder.

Robin blinked as Richie walked back over to the machine. "Hit it with a hammer?" he repeated, aghast. "Hit it with a hammer? A brain the size of Cleveland and your solution is to hit it with a hammer?"

"A brain the size of Cleveland that tells me where to hit it with a hammer," Richie replied, hoisting back the hammer and taking a mighty swing.

The clang echoed through the cavern, starling several bats. More importantly, the machine instantly revved to life, the power humming through the device just the way Richie wanted. It sounded like beautiful music to his ears. Shielding his eyes, Richie ducked down behind the machine to avoid any power surges as the room once again lit up like a tacky Christmas card. He heard a thud, followed by a familiar groan, and Richie barely resisted the urge to jump for joy. Before he did anything else, though, he remained where he was sitting, yanking open a side panel and making absolutely sure the internal power source was disconnected.

"Welcome back," he heard Batman say.

Positive the machine wouldn't be unexpectedly sending anyone into the future anytime soon, Richie bounced to his feet, grinning over at Virgil from the over the armrest. "Ye-ah!" he said cheerfully. "I knew I could fix this!"

"Gear!" Virgil cried, his eyes lighting up as he struggled to his feet. "I saw the future! I saw you, I saw myself, I saw Batman... Batman!" He turned to the Dark Knight, clearly excited. "You were..."

"I'd rather not know," Batman said in a warning tone, holding up his hand.

"Well, you still had your hair," Virgil told him cheerfully, then winced in obvious pain, rubbing the side of his head.

Richie was by his friend's side in an instant. "You gonna be okay?" he asked, worried. If the thud he'd heard was any indication, Virgil had hit the floor pretty damn hard.

"I'm gonna be just fine," Virgil assured him, his tone speaking volumes. It sounded like a promise. "Oh, and Gear?" he added, poking Richie in the chest, putting on the expression Richie had long since come to recognize as shit-faced. "Maybe you should lay off the fries."

Richie looked down at Virgil's finger, then matched his grin. Ah, he might have guessed. The old Foley middle age spread. Every male relative on his father's side that he knew of suffered from it. It was probably some kind of curse... that and the alcoholism.

"Thanks for the heads up, bro," Richie replied, batting Virgil's finger away in a playful gesture. "It's celery and carrot sticks for me from now on."

"Right on, man," Virgil said with a laugh, the clutched his own stomach in a flair of melodrama. "Speaking of food... Damn. I feel like I haven't eaten a thing in forty years. Anyplace around here a brother can get his grub on?"

"The kitchen is fully stocked and then some," Robin said, smiling and jerking his thumb in the direction of the stairs.

Richie nearly laughed at the gleeful expression on Virgil's face at that news.

"Great! Lead on, my friend!" Virgil said, clapping a hand to Robin's shoulder. As they started for the stairs, Virgil stopped, looking back at Richie. "You coming?"

"I think, in light of what you've seen in the future and my own genetics, it's probably better that I don't," Richie said with a lopsided grin of his own. "Besides, I've got some stuff to finish up here. I don't want anybody accidentally going to the future again any time soon."

Virgil nodded, then walked back over to Richie. He held out his fist, his smile wide and his eyes bright under his mask. Richie took the cue for what it was, meeting Virgil's fist with his own, initiating their elaborate handshake. It felt so good to do. Virgil was back, no doubt about it. This alone proved it to Richie in a way nothing else would.

Their handshake completed, meaning so much more than just an expression of friendship, Virgil practically dragged Robin up the stairs. Richie watched them go, laughing and joking together, until his friend disappeared through the door to the mansion above. As soon as Virgil was out of sight, Richie let out a breath he didn't even noticed he'd been holding, sinking on his knees to the floor as relief flooded him, leaving him dizzy and lightheaded. It reminded him of the time Virgil and his family had gone away for a week when he was thirteen, off to a family reunion or something similar. Richie, being left alone with his foul-tempered father, spent one afternoon drinking an entire case of beer he'd stolen from the man. He felt the same as he did back then - giddy, off-balance, vaguely happy, and slightly sick to his stomach. He even thought he might throw up, but he squashed that feeling, not wanting to mess up the nice, clean Batcave floor.

"He's okay," Richie whispered, closing his eyes, the stone feeling cold on his knees. It felt like he was at Mass. Maybe he really was praying in a way. "He's really okay."

"Thanks to you."

Richie started, turning around to find Batman staring at him. He'd forgotten the man's presence entirely and hearing his voice sent a shockwave through him, breaking through the almost overwhelming emotions swirling about in his brain. Richie still felt intimidated by Batman's presence, but not nearly as badly as before.

"Yeah, I guess," Richie said after a moment, frowning. "But, what if I hadn't..."

"Time to finish this," Batman said, cutting Richie off mid-sentence. He tossed him a screwdriver in one, smooth motion.

Richie's catch wasn't nearly as smooth. He fumbled with the tool, nearly dropping it before securing it tightly against his chest. Batman didn't notice his lack of grace, having already turned away and kneeling next to the time machine, staring intently through the panel Richie opened earlier. Dragging himself to his feet, Richie went to Batman's side.

"Okay," he said as he got to his knees. Whether he was agreeing to Batman's statement or simply signaling that they should begin, he didn't know. Batman clearly wanted to get down to business. Robin did mention the older man wasn't much of a talker.

They worked in silence for several minutes, Richie pulling out this and that, occasionally gesturing to things for Batman to hold or remove. As though they were performing some kind of choreographed pantomime, they made short work of the machine, its electronic insides soon laying in piles on the floor around them. At last, the machine was nothing more than an empty shell. It might even make a nice lounge chair, Richie decided, but didn't say as much.

Batman stood up, going over to his massive computer. Richie followed without being asked. The code and the plans Richie spent the better part of the day working on were still displayed on the oversized monitor.

"Wipe it from the memory," Batman told him.

Richie nodded. A few keystrokes later, his work no longer existed, vanished into the ether. It make Richie feel strange to watch it disappear. The works of the ancient world, whether cave drawings, stone tablets, or old, dusty books, could still be found and enjoyed. His work, his generation's work, could be destroyed with the push of a button, like it never existed at all, leaving no trace, no record.

It made Richie a little sad.

Still, this program and the improved time machine design were better not remembered, he knew. He went and did the same to Backpack without Batman's urging, kneeling on the floor next to the robot. He didn't move until he was certain every byte of data concerning time machine was beyond recovery.

"Done." Richie stood up, stretching, feeling pleased regardless of his slight sense of loss. "Now, nobody can ever recreate Timecode's invention."

"Except for you."

Richie stiffened, stumbling as he turned a little too quickly to face Batman. The man's expression was as carefully controlled and emotionless as ever, giving no indication of what thoughts passed through his head beneath the mask. The discomfort returned with a vengeance and Richie didn't say anything for a second, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to understand Batman's hidden meaning.

"I guess that's one memory we can't wipe clean," Richie said finally, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing off to one side. Batman didn't reply, didn't even move. Richie wasn't even sure he was breathing.

Irrational irritation swelled inside of Richie's chest. He dropped his hand back to his side, feeling it clench into a fist briefly before relaxing it by will alone. It wasn't his fault he had the brain he did. Batman's silence felt like an accusation.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked shortly. "I can't change who I am."

Batman remained stoic. Richie let out a growl of frustration, pacing the floor. He tapped Backpack with his foot as he passed it, feeling the prickly sensation of the robot climbing back to its designated spot. Crossing over to stand by the table where he and Alfred enjoyed lunch that afternoon, Richie leaned back against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He met Batman's gaze head on.

"Stop it." Richie squeezed his own arms to prevent himself from lashing out at the older man physically, the stare and the unspoken judgement quickly becoming unbearable. He felt out of control and that scared him more than Batman's silence. "I'm not going to forget. There's nothing you can do about that, except kill me."

When Batman still didn't respond, Richie narrowed his eyes.

"Is that what you want?" he asked quietly, trying to provoke some kind of reaction. "You want to kill me? It would be easy enough. All of you know who I really am."

Still nothing.

Richie dropped his hands to his sides, clenching both into tight fists. His nails cut into the soft skin of his palms, his body taunt with tension. He took a single step closer to the older man.

"What have I ever done to any of you to make you think I'm going to slip?" he demanded. A wry, sardonic smile twitched at his lips. "I know it looks bad. I know the odds aren't in my favor. My father treats my mother, myself, and anyone that isn't a white, card-carrying member of the KKK like we're less than garbage. I practically grew up on the streets. I've been offered drugs, courted by gangs and thugs, and had opportunities presented to me that would even make your stomach twist in revulsion. But I never slipped.

"Maybe it was my friendship with Virgil that saved me," Richie went on, taking yet another step closer to Batman. "Maybe it's because his family took me in as one of their own, no questions asked. Maybe it was my mother's hypocritical attempt to impose values in me different from my father's, values that she can never express because her spine has the consistency of cooked spaghetti. Maybe it was my own will, my own sheer determination, to live up to my own brand of morality. I don't know. I suspect I never will. The point is, I never changed."

They were more or less face to face, Richie standing scant inches from the statue-like Batman, who still hadn't so much as blinked. It was driving Richie crazy, making him mad without reason. The man was just standing there. Why did it feel so much like an inquisition?

The anger he felt, a legacy of his father, kept growing. It moved to the point of almost overwhelming him, Richie feeling his hands twitch in fury at the need to hit, punch, scream, and yell - anything to relieve the tension. Then, without warning, it changed.

His father used that anger to hurt others, shallowly lashing out at anyone and everyone for any reason in an attempt to make himself feel like more of a man, to make himself feel like a better, stronger man. That same anger in Richie did something completely different. He drew it into himself, feeling it wrap around a part of his soul like a shield and a brace all in one. He pulled it together in a tight ball in the pit of his stomach, creating a core of strength he could rely on, not to belittle others, but to fight for himself, using that anger to fuel his confidence. It was empowering, much more so than acting like a jackass ever could be.

"I didn't change," Richie repeated, his voice strong and sure, drawing on his inner strength to give him the power to stand up to Batman, of all people. "My IQ jumping a few hundred points doesn't make a difference. I'm the same person. I'll never slip. Never. That's not who I am."

Batman still said nothing. Richie didn't back down, never giving any sign of defeat or weakness. Maybe Batman didn't believe him. Richie didn't care. He knew it was the truth.

Then, Batman nodded.

"Good," was all he said, then turned and started walking away.

Richie blinked stupidly at his back.

"The two of you are returning to Dakota in twenty minutes. Be ready by then," Batman said, then stopped, looking over his shoulder at Richie. "We'll be in touch."

Batman vanished into the shadows, leaving Richie standing there, incredibly confused. He knew in an instant Batman's last statement had nothing to do with Virgil. He stared at the spot where the older man disappeared.

Then, like when he first put his glasses on in the morning, everything instantly came sharply into focus. The corner of Richie's lip twitched. He almost laughed.

It was a test.

Given Batman's statement, Richie suspected he passed with flying colors.

Richie could barely keep his eyes open.

The gentle humming of the Batplane's engine sounded like a lullaby, the barely perceptible corrections the autopilot made as they journeyed back to Dakota rocking him soothingly. The leather covering of the seat, warmed by his own body heat, hugged him like a pair of welcoming arms. He hadn't slept in nearly two days and it was staring to catch up with him. Even Virgil's constant chatter seemed to melt into the background, making him feel safe and content.

"... and so, there are all these clowns and they're throwing pies, but the pies are bombs, and I ask you bro - have you ever heard of anything so stupid?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Now, the snake people, they had the right idea. Those guys creeped me out. Man, I'm glad we don't gotta deal with them for another forty years, because they're just gross."

"Uh, huh."

"But, I'm telling you, when all those leprechauns jumped out of the bushes and ripped my clothes off, then made me do that Irish jig? I think that was then I knew I really needed to get on home."

"Mmm... what?" Richie's eyes snapped open and he tilted his head back, blinking in confusion.

Virgil grinned down at him, leaning over the back of his seat with his chin resting on Richie's headrest. His arms dangled on either side of Richie's chair, warm, chocolate brown fingertips just brushing Richie's shoulders. At Richie's clear confusion, Virgil winked.

"Dumbass," Richie said, sticking his tongue out at the other boy.

"Hey, just making sure you were paying attention," Virgil said, going for innocence, but failing, since the wicked grin stayed firmly in place. "I'd hate to think the story of my sordid adventure into the future is putting you to sleep."

"Sorry," Richie said through a yawn, rubbing his eyes and forcing himself to wake up. His helmet nearly slipped off his lap and he made a quick grab for it. "I put in a lot of overtime rescuing you, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Virgil's grin faded somewhat. "Thanks. I'm not sure I said that, yet."

Richie waved him off. "You'd do the same for me," he said, then raised his eyebrow. "Well, if you could, of course, but you probably couldn't."

"Gee, thanks," Virgil said, less sincerely. "You know, sometimes, I miss being the smart one."

"You're young. You'll cope."

"Yeah, I guess I will."

Virgil sounded unusually thoughtful. Richie looked up and back at his friend. Virgil was staring at him with an strange look on his face, unspoken questions dancing in his eyes.

"What's up?" Richie asked, shifting uncomfortably. He sensed that Virgil was dwelling on something he'd learned in the course of his little journey to the future that he'd yet to share. Richie wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Virgil frowned. "I was just wondering about Batman."

"Batman?" Richie echoed, surprised.

"Yeah," Virgil said with a slow nod, still giving Richie a searching look. "What did you two talk about when me and Robin went to raid the kitchen? You looked like you were in another world when I got back downstairs."

Richie opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, glancing away from Virgil. He stared at the Batplane's instrument panel, gathering his thoughts. How much of what passed between he and Batman did he really want to reveal to Virgil? It wasn't anything overly shocking, nothing Virgil probably didn't already know, and Richie doubted he'd understand how big of an impact such simple truths made on his whole outlook on life. He suspected all major epiphanies were like that, an 'oh, wow' moment for those that had them, and a 'well, duh' moment from those around them.

He settled on an edited version of the truth, knowing he could never pull off a lie and expect Virgil to drop the subject.

"Batman didn't talk about much of anything," Richie said at last, tilting his head back once more to look up at Virgil. "You know how he is, bro. I did pretty much all the talking, but it helped me figure out a few things out for myself, stuff that you probably already know."

"Good stuff or bad stuff?"

"Both." Richie smiled. "I think he wanted me to prove myself, wanted to find out who I really was, because..." Richie paused, taking in a slow breath, then letting it out through pursed lips. "I think... he offered me a job."

Virgil perked up at that news.

"Really?" he asked, bouncing slightly. "Dude, that's so cool."

"Tell me about it," Richie said, his smile growing ever wider. Just thinking about working for Bruce Wayne made little butterflies dance a conga in his stomach. "I think it's going to work out great."

"Just promise me this, man," Virgil said, looking a little more serious. "No matter what, you have got to tell me where you're going, because I don't want my future self kidnapped by snake people again, okay?"

Richie blinked. He had no idea what Virgil was talking about. Maybe he should have paid a little closer attention to his chatter earlier. Shrugging mentally, Richie decided to make Virgil happy. He knew he could get clarification later, in one way or the other.

So, rather than ask, he just nodded. "It's a deal," he promised, raising his fist. Virgil seemed placated by that and tapped his fist with his own in a shortened version of their handshake.

"I gotta say, Rich, our future is looking pretty good," Virgil said, practically draping himself over the back of Richie's chair. He glanced at his watch, nodding. "I'm even going to get back before curfew. Forty years there and back again and I'm still going to make it home for dinner and the Friday night movie of the week."

"Uh, V?" Richie said with a grimace. "Hate to burst your bubble, but you missed curfew by about twenty-three hours. It's Saturday."

Virgil stared at Richie with unblinking eyes. "Don't play me, Rich," he said, his tone a warning. Richie could see the tips of his fingers twitching. "I left Friday night to catch Timecode and you brought me back. I was only in the future for a couple of hours. Do not tell me it's Saturday."

"Hey, fixing a time machine isn't like disabling a V-Chip," Richie said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're lucky I got it done as quickly as I did. It took Timecode ten years to perfect his version. I think less than a day to do a complete rebuild and repair is pretty good."

Virgil groaned. "Pops is gonna kill me!" he cried, burying his face in his hands. "How the hell am I going to explain this?"

"Tell him the truth?" Richie offered.

Virgil glared at Richie through his splayed fingers. "Not funny, Rich," he said, voice muffled by his palms.

Richie couldn't keep up the charade a second longer. Putting his hand over his mouth, he tried to hold back his laughter, but failed. "Bro, you should see your face!" he said, once he was able to speak without cracking up.

"Not getting the joke," Virgil said, irritated.

"You think I'd hang you like that?" Richie asked, still chuckling under his breath. "No worries, V. I called your dad before I left Dakota, telling him you were crashing at my place after we went out to catch a movie. As for today, we spent that at the Dakota Comic Convention. I programmed Backpack to simulate your voice so 'you' could check in with your dad on and off through the day. As far as Mr. H is concerned, you spent the weekend hanging with me, since my dad was 'out of town'. We'll just sleep at the gas station tonight and go eat breakfast at your place tomorrow."

Virgil shook his head rapidly, as if being pursued by a persistent gnat. "But... what...?"

"But what about the statistical impossibility of the two of us going to a comic convention and coming back empty handed? I've got it covered." Richie leaned down, digging around under the seat until his hand wrapped around a brown paper bag, filled to capacity with plastic-sheeted comics. He held it up for Virgil's inspection. "Robin said we could keep these. He has doubles."

"Richie," Virgil said slowly, staring at him with wide-eyed, open-mouthed wonder, "have I told you lately that I love you?"

"No," Richie said, grinning, "but that's probably something you should keep on the down low, if you know what I mean."

Virgil gave a relieved sort of laugh and ruffled Richie's hair with both hands before flopping back into his seat.

"You're a freak," he told him. "I love you, Rich, but you're a freak. Now, hand over those comics."

Richie passed them back as requested, watching Virgil in the reflection of the windshield as he handled the very rare, very expensive issues with all the reverence and care they deserved. "Speedster: Volume 1", in mint condition, slipped out of its plastic cover, Virgil holding the corners and being careful not to bed the covers back too far as he began reading. Richie kept watching him, somewhat amused. With his feet up underneath him and his nose buried into the comic book, Virgil looked sort of silly.

He must have felt Richie staring at him, though, because his eyes flicked up and caught his own in the reflection.

"What up?" Virgil asked.

"Just thinking," Richie said with a half-shrug. "Nothing new."

Virgil didn't look at all convinced. "About what?"

"Well," Richie said, hesitating, "I was wondering... What else did you find out about me in the future? Other than my unfortunate weight gain, of course."

"Not much," Virgil admitted, sounding regretful. "I didn't actually get to see you, just a hologram of you. Why? There something you need to tell me?"

Richie nodded. "Yeah, but it can wait."

Virgil stared at him for several moments, before nodding as well. "That's cool. I'll be around." He winked, then buried his nose back into the comic book. "By the way, Robin just got himself a slave for life. I've been dying to read some of these comics for years."

Laughing softly, Richie could only agree with that. They were fantastic comics. Turning his eyes away from Virgil, he looked longingly back down at the Batplane's control console. The autopilot light was bright and steady, but the steering column looked too tempting to pass up, now that he was more awake. Cautiously, he put both hands on the wheel, not expecting it to hurt anything or make a difference, given how hard Robin struggled with it the other day.

The second his fingers wrapped around the wheel, the autopilot light blinked off, the plane in complete manual control.

Richie grinned.

"Thanks, Batman," he said, so softly, not even Virgil heard him.

With infinite care, he piloted the two of them back to Dakota and forward into their future.

The End

A/N: Aaaaannnndd.. we're done! Well, that was a fun way to spend three weeks. I hope you all enjoyed the story. Let me say now that I really appreciate all the reviews I've already recieved. It's so wonderful to get such great insight from you guys!

I very much enjoyed writing this. It gave me the oppertunity to really delve into Richie's character the way I wanted. Speculation is one of the greatest things we can articulate in fanfiction, imho. I thought a lot about Richie, the Justice League, Virgil, and Batman while writing this. My sister can attest to that. She doesn't even watch Static Shock and she got an earful about it every time I called her. Thanks, Jenn, for being a sounding board!

This was not beta read. That's a no-no in my book, most of the time. Unfortunately, it's hard to find someone that will beta read a piece that's as long as this one ended up being. So, any typos you see here and there (and I see plenty that are really cringe worthy) are all my own. I'll probably fix them eventually. I'm just too lazy to go back and fix them now.
A few additional notes: The thing with the hammer? Loosely reminiscent from a scene in a comic book called "The Rebels", an offshoot from "Elfquest". I thought having a comic reference would be amusing, even if it is pretty obscure. Also, the dolphin joke may or may not have come from the Simpsons. Actually, my father used to tell the same joke when I was a little kid, so who knows?

Once again, I would like to thank you for reading. It was a pretty long haul, eh? Well, we made it. Nobody is as happy to be done with this story as I am, let me tell you. Now, it's time to move onto somthing new - as soon as I finish my Angel episode for a virtual season and write something for the Livejournal "ithurtsmybrain" community challenge I signed up for. Thanks for sticking with me!