I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.
Rated PG-13 : violence, language, sexuality, some mature concepts.
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
The first light of dawn had turned a corner of the sky a faint pink. A new day was beginning. Christmas, Batman realized in some remote part of his mind as he heard cheerful voices drift faintly from outside. Christmas, but not in this room.
The image before his eyes was not the skyline of the city beginning to emerge in dusky half-light. He saw empty counters in the dimness of nighttime lighting, the shelves and racks of a department store surrounded him, and he heard the echoes of gunshots...
Batman started towards the sound, every sense on alert, then stopped and ducked for cover as he heard something else: running feet, not far away, coming from deeper inside the store. He was familiar enough with this building to remember a side entrance, to his right as he faced the back. Quickly he started in that direction, moving as fast he could while bent down to stay out of sight. He might be able to catch them, head them off before they could get out. The police were arriving; he could hear them too, starting to move in through the front door behind him.
Five thieves, he saw as he got closer. Four he dismissed at a glance, ordinary punks, loaded down with loot. He could take care of them before they had time to get their guns aimed. No sign of the window display figures; there must have been more men, probably gone now. But the fifth - tall, thin, green hair vivid even in the dim lighting, the metallic gleam of a pistol in his hand - the Joker was a different story.
Almost without thought Batman's hands went to his belt and came out with several small disks, like tiny stylized bats, the wings edged with sharp points. He had taken a few tips from Nightwing during their partnership, and adapted his batarangs into smaller throwing stars. A quick flip of the wrist, and one zipped through the air, to bite into the forearm of the closest thief.
The echoes of his howl of pain were still ringing as another star hit the Joker in the elbow. He made no sound, but snarled wordlessly and swung around, eyes darting. "Batman!" he hissed.
"Where?"
"There!" He fired.
Batman dived for the floor, rolled, and came up with another star in his hand. He threw it, and heard a curse - and the clatter of a gun hitting the floor. It was all he was waiting for. In a swift movement he was up, leaping over the counter, twisting in midair to land on his feet, dropping into a crouch and then jumped again to crash into them head-first, bringing three men down with him into a struggling heap.
The one he had landed directly on stopped moving after his fingers found a pressure point. A hard kick in the belly sent another crashing through the glass of a cosmetics counter. Two down. Three, as Batman rose into a half-turn and a kick that caught him in the chest. The last of the Joker's men was dropping an armful of fur coats and fumbling frantically in his jacket. Just as his hand emerged equipped with a gun, Batman scooped up one of the coats, whirled it over the thief's head, then hit him - once, twice, and he was out of the fight too.
The whole thing had taken maybe ten seconds. Enough time for the police to find them; there was a shout of "Freeze!" from behind him. The Joker was backing off, not trying for the pistol lying on the floor a few feet away. Instead, he reached in his pocket. Even as Batman shouted a warning and started for him, he threw something.
Several pellets hit the floor, a thin dark cloud rising from them. Batman recognized it at once. He pulled his cape over his nose and mouth, holding his breath. He could keep going... but the cops were still coming, putting themselves in danger; he turned, pushed one back, grabbed another's arm and hauled him away.
"Look out!" he said, forced to take a breath of poisonous air. "The Joker's laughing gas!"
They needed no further warning to stumble back, even as the gas began to affect them. In a large space like this, a brief exposure would cause coughing, choking, and loss of coordination. In higher concentrations or over more time, it would cause uncontrolled laughter, paralysis of the muscles, even death. They had to stay back; no way to catch the Joker now, and the two officers with him couldn't even aim their guns.
And he knew it... that mocking voice shouted, "So long, Batman! I hope you appreciate the surprise I left you!"
They retreated farther, breathing in the clean air in gasps, until the coughing subsided. Batman looked back at the four men he had taken down. They had gotten a much larger dose. He pulled his cape loose from his shoulders and went closer, waving it above them to break up the last traces of gas. He bent over each one to check. They were all still breathing, but in bad shape.
"These men need medical care," he said as more police joined him.
"We've called for ambulances," an officer told him. "They'll be here as soon as possible. Everyone else here all right?"
"Yeah." The other two policemen looked fine. Everything seemed under control as he looked around the store - but the cop who had spoken was still staring at him, an expression of - concern? - on his face. And it hit him. "Batwoman and Nightwing," he said. "They're here somewhere." He looked in the direction the Joker and his men had run from. The back of the store, the same place those gunshots had come from.
"Batman, maybe you shouldn't go back there..."
Not even looking at him, Batman started walking, and then broke into a trot. There were more police here, a few spread through the clothing racks, but most gathered around the entrance to a dressing room. He slowed when he reached them, as they watched him silently, their faces grim. Someone had turned on the lights inside. The cops parted before him, conversations dying, men looking up as he stepped inside and then turning back to the two bodies lying on the floor.
He didn't remember everything after that, just disjointed images and scenes, surreally bright and clear, all of it seeming as distant as if he were watching a movie. Batwoman - Kathy - sprawled on her back on the floor of the dressing room corridor, staring up blindly, her head surrounded by a pool of red. As he stepped closer and bent over her, she seemed to look at him with accusation in her eyes, until he realized that there was nothing there. The life that had deepened those eyes and given them meaning was gone. He watched her, frozen in place, refusing to understand, not feeling much of anything except a cold numbness.
But there was something else, he remembered dimly, as the sound of labored, gasping breathing slowly penetrated the haze around him. He got back up. There were more police around Nightwing, one of them talking to him in a low voice. Batman took a few steps and knelt next to him, seeing the blood on his face, chest, and shoulder. It had darkened the black and midnight blue of his costume, but was bright where it had flowed onto the floor, outlining the edges of the tiles in red.
Nightwing's face was contorted in pain, but he opened his eyes. They moved in something that looked like panic, from one face to another, until they finally settled on Batman. "Sorry..." he gasped thinly. "Sorry..." His eyes lost focus and closed again as he made a small painful sound.
"How is he?" Batman asked. All he got was a blank look. They wouldn't want to say what was obviously the truth, not when Nightwing still might be aware enough to hear them. He stood up again and looked around. "The Joker got away," he said, half to himself. "You'll set up roadblocks, but they won't get him. He's too smart for that." A sharp pain seemed to be settling into his chest, making it hard to breathe. He tried to concentrate, feeling lightheaded, his eyes blurring. "Have to question his men - maybe they'll give him up..."
They were all looking at him. He knew what they were thinking. No grief, no tears, no feelings. Cold and hard...
'I'll make my heart as cold and hard as a stone...'
The words drifted through his mind as he gazed out the hospital window at the brightening dawn, spoken in the voice of a little boy who had sworn he would never be hurt so deeply again. And yet it had happened.
"How are you holding up?"
The question startled him. He had been so wrapped up in thought he had been only dimly aware of someone coming in. Turning away from the window, he saw James Gordon pulling the door shut behind him.
"Me? I'm fine."
"Any change?" Gordon glanced at the bed.
"Not yet."
"The doctors say he has a good chance."
"A chance. Yeah."
"They told me the Kevlar suit stopped one of the bullets. The other one penetrated, but only a couple of inches. The third bullet, in his shoulder, isn't too serious. But the impact-"
"I know. Blunt force trauma. Internal injuries. The suits aren't thick enough to provide complete protection. Been there."
"It saved his life."
"But not hers," he said with a dull bitterness. "Not much a suit can do about a bullet in the head."
"Look..." Gordon's voice was hesitant. Batman sensed him changing his mind about whatever he was going to say. After another moment, he continued. "The Joker got away, just like you thought."
"Any luck with his men?"
"Not yet. They're all hospitalized, and the doctors won't let us question them for more than a few minutes. By the time we get anything out of them, the Joker will have found a new hiding place."
"I suppose so. But I'll get him. Sooner or later." His fingers clenched spasmodically into fists.
"Batman, maybe this is too personal for you. Let us handle it."
"He did this because of me... to get to me... No, it's my problem, and I'll handle it." He closed his eyes, almost able to see it... Driving a fist into that dead-white face, blotting him out with no more mercy than he had shown Kathy... With an effort, he uncurled his hands and forced himself back to calmness.
"Just don't do anything - foolish."
He turned away again, answering with an honesty that vaguely surprised him. "The only foolish thing I did was sending them after him alone. Letting them do this - be Batwoman and Nightwing - in the first place. Even helping them. Now they've paid for my mistake."
"They're both adults. You couldn't have stopped them."
"I should have tried harder."
Another awkward hesitation as he kept his back turned, until Gordon spoke again. "Only a few doctors and nurses saw Nightwing's unmasked face in the emergency room. Now with the bruises and bandages..."
"Unlikely that anyone would know who he is, or recognize him if they saw him again."
"Yes. We have this room under guard, and we're keeping everyone out except essential medical personnel."
"Thanks." Batman gave him another glance, wondering just how much he knew, or suspected. If he had recognized Dick himself, he would never say.
"If - when he's well enough to be moved, I'll make sure you can get him out of here quietly. No reporters."
"Good."
"But Batwoman..." He trailed off.
"You've identified her."
A heavy sigh. "Yes. There's no way to keep it secret, but we won't release her real name to the press until after her next-of-kin is notified and decides what to do about... What arrangements to make."
"She has a brother. Had a brother."
"Yes, he's the one we're trying to reach." Gordon waited for a few more moments, and then stepped back in the direction of the door. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. Let me know if I can do anything."
"Thanks." Batman glanced up. Gordon was in the doorway, a hand on the knob, looking back as if he wanted to say more. His face seemed more deeply lined than usual, his eyes saddened. Some slender thread of concern and sympathy for his friend reached Batman through the haze of numbness.
"She was your friend, too. I'm sorry, Jim."
"This wasn't your fault." Gordon waited again, before opening the door with another sigh. A moment later he was gone, his footsteps fading into silence.
Time passed. Batman wasn't sure if it was crawling or speeding. It just went by, leaving him isolated in the small bubble of that room, alone with the unconscious body of his friend and partner, except for the occasional nurse or doctor who came in to do whatever they needed to do. And with the image of Kathy, never as he had last seen her, empty eyes gazing at nothing, but Kathy as he remembered her, so quick to smile, to laugh, her smiles now gone forever.
They had asked if he wanted to see her, to say goodbye, and given him a noncommittal but somehow disapproving look when he had said no. How could he explain that he had no desire to see the shell of what had been his Kathy? To take away another terrible memory of her dead face, another image that would forever haunt him? No, better just to sit here. Had to think about the living.
Dick... Still breathing, a tube under his nose feeding him oxygen, his face bruised and bandaged. They had hit him in the face first. Then shot him, at close range. Surprising that he had survived. Surprising that a little color had returned to his skin over the last hours, that he had mumbled something unintelligible a few times.
And surprising that now his face twitched, his head rolled slightly. Dick's eyes squeezed shut, and then opened. They stared up blankly at first, then widened. Batman pulled his chair closer and leaned in. After a few more seconds, Dick focused on him.
"What..." His voice was a hoarse croak. He licked his lips and tried again. "What happened...?"
"You're in the hospital. You're going to be all right." Experimentally, Batman tried to smile. It didn't work.
"It was the Joker. He was waiting... his men..."
"Don't try to talk about it now."
"Batwoman... where is she?"
"She's..." His throat closed on the reassuring lie he had intended to tell.
"She was hurt - real bad, I think." Dick was staring at him, desperation visible behind tubes and bandages. His hand reached out, fingers grasping weakly at Batman's wrist. "Is she okay? Tell me!"
"She's gone." He was distantly surprised to hear a quiver in his own voice.
"Gone?" For a moment Dick seemed not to understand, his eyes searching Batman's. Then he closed them again, his face contracting in misery. "Oh God... Kathy... I'm so sorry..."
"Not your fault." The words sounded empty and hollow, even to himself.
"I should have done something... stopped it..."
"I'm sure you did what you could."
They fell back into silence. Batman watched Dick turn his face to the wall and curl up, shoulders trembling, and wondered if he should reach out, touch him, show him that it really wasn't his fault. Whether he could try to share the pain he saw, and maybe his own. But in the end he couldn't do it, not when he felt the numbness threatening to recede and dissolve, giving him a frightening glimpse of what lay underneath it.
After a few minutes he returned to the window and looked out, alone with the thought that echoed through his mind. "Never again... This must never happen again."
TBC...