The Cure

Chapter Five: Rooftop Revelations

"It would have worked better if you had just shot at me." He growled, hand still on the gun as he and his opponent played tug-of- war with it.

"I would never do such a cowardly thing," came the woman's reply, "My father's vengeance is worth more than that." She brought her foot up in a roundhouse kick, and Batman dodged it, backing away and relinquishing his hold on the gun. She brought the mini- uzi up to aim at him, and used the barrel to point at his arm-guards. "Where did you get those?" She spat, "Off my father's corpse?"

Batman didn't raise his hands in surrender, though she had the gun pointed at him, and he had lost his blade to the shadows. She was talking about him like he was a murderer, nothing new there; a lot of Gotham population took Detective Bullock on his word when he claimed Batman a threat to society. Now, thanks to him, many people were pinning tragedies on him, using him as a scapegoat. Almost made him want to change his mind, but something in him knew he could change theirs first.

"Put the gun down, it's not me you're after." He said slowly, like you would talk a jumper off the edge of Gotham Bridge.

"Don't try your hero crap on me, I'm not buying it."

Well, that didn't work. His eyes darted around, looking for anything he could use, though he didn't know how he could move anywhere with the gun on him. She aimed it at him like she knew how to use it.

"Who was your father?"

The barrel dropped a fraction of an inch as she looked over it at him in horror. "You really can't remember the man you murdered? How insolent. Very well, since I have to spell everything out for you: My name is Talia, daughter of Ra's al Ghul. Remember that while you're choking on your own blood!" She pulled the trigger and the bullets thundered across his chest. He fell backwards, rolling behind the cover of the chimneystacks.

Daughter? He had a daughter? Ouch…

So if Elizabeth felt like having sessions with Jonathan was like pulling teeth, how did she think he felt? He was on the receiving end without any anesthetics. But he supposed the price wasn't too great to pay for the reward.

Something that really confused him in retrospect, however, was that he had told her about his past. He didn't want her to analyze him, so he could have spun a web of lies that were just as satisfying as the truth, but he didn't. And he didn't know why.

It was normal for a person to need to talk about their problems. Was that what was happening? He shook his head. No. He wasn't going to start questioning himself, or having regrets. There was no need to.

Did Dr. Lee want to change him? Who or what he was was indisputable, and how could he be anything else? He couldn't be something he wasn't. Was there a time when he could have done something differently that would have changed where he was now? Maybe. But the past has come and gone, and change was no longer an option.

Yet he found himself looking forward to the next day, which was the first time since Ra's al Ghul came to him with his offer. He had told Jonathan they would hold Gotham ransom, that he would receive fifty percent of their earnings. But complete annihilation had been his goal, and if Jonathan had known, he would have never agreed. He had his moral standards. Besides, how would the destruction of Gotham benefit him? He would have to start from scratch in a whole new city, and being the sole survivor of Gotham would look just a little too suspicious. That would be if he were to be the sole survivor of Gotham. Ra's lied about the deal, so he probably lied about the depth of their partnership as well.

It had been greed that brought him here. That and the thought "Ooh, now I'll show them all." He couldn't deny it any longer. He was having regrets. It was hard not to when he found himself nearly immobilized in a padded cell. Hell, the monotony alone drove him more insane everyday if nothing else did.

Now he finally had a chance to get out of here. What would he do with his life afterwards? He couldn't go back to being a psychiatrist; he had been blacklisted, and he imagined more than a few criminals in the Narrow were pissed as hell and setting a price on his head. If he thought about it, staying in Arkham was probably his safest bet, but he had a little trouble with his arrogance when it came down to death threats. There was more than one way to turn the tables, and once he was out of there, he wouldn't waste any time finding his way back to the top.

Elizabeth was having trouble sleeping, so when she answered the knocking on the door, it was probably the only reason she had stirred herself at three 'o clock in the morning. The face on the other side of the door certainly didn't look like it was suffering from the lack of sleep it was getting, and when Elizabeth saw her, she suddenly was not either.

Little Carrie stood on the other side of the door with a huge grin on her face, as if she had just come back from the store with the carton of milk she had been sent for, and oh would you look at that, strawberries were on sell too.

"Hey, big sis, long time no see," Truthfully, Carrie had been running conversation starters through her mind on the long way up to the apartment on the second floor, and that had definitely NOT been it at all. Well, shucks. Elizabeth stood there and gaped, like she had turned the corner and came face to face with a ghost. Well, that should be pretty close to the truth anyways. How long had she been gone?

"It's been… six years."

Carrie's smile faltered, "Wow. You still haven't stopped doing that, have you?"

It was Elizabeth's turn to smile, and she began blinking furiously to keep the tears back. "I didn't think you got any of my letters."

"Yep, got them all. And they were damn depressing, too." They shifted in silence for a moment or two; so many things left unsaid hanging in the air between them that needed to be voiced, where to start? "Hey, uh, Liz… can I come inside? It's kind of cold."

Elizabeth jumped as if she had forgotten she had been standing there, and maybe she had. "I'm so sorry, of course." She stepped back, and Carrie entered, shrugging off her backpack. "Are you hungry? I can fix you something."

Carrie sighed wistfully as she placed her backpack in a chair. "Oh, you are an angel from heaven above."

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head as she opened the fridge door and began shifting through various leftovers. "I thought you were an atheist."

Carrie shrugged, "I don't know what I am, but I do know that it sounded nice."

Elizabeth pulled a large dish out of the fridge that was only half full. "Yes, very poetic."

"You always were jealous of my art skills."

Elizabeth wagged a fork at Carrie, "Do you want this food, or not?"

Carrie grinned innocently, "I didn't say a word."

As Elizabeth roamed around the kitchen fixing Carrie's plate of food, Carrie tentatively glanced into the living room. "So, uh, you don't mind if I take a look around?"

Elizabeth glanced up knowingly, "At the end of the hall. The door doesn't creak if you open it."

"What, the bathroom?" Carrie asked hastily as she slipped out of the kitchen. She knew though that Elizabeth hadn't been talking about the bathroom, just as Elizabeth had known why Carrie wanted to "look around". Why she was here had been in every one of Elizabeth's letters; it would be unnatural if she didn't know.

The hallway was much longer than it looked, and Elizabeth was right- the door didn't creak when opened. The small form of her daughter turned over in her sleep, and Carrie held her breath, afraid to wake her. Having Katie's open eyes meet hers would be facing a beast of guilt, and she would be swallowed whole. Suddenly she found herself kneeling by the bed, and she couldn't quite remember resolving to walk in. Her hand hovered over Katie's face, and then she thought, oh what the hell, and softly touched her fingertips to the sleeping child's cheek, running them down to trace her jaw line with a tenderness only a mother could have for her child. Funny, she didn't remember making that transition. Could it be possible that it had been there since the day Katie had been born, and she was too afraid and delusional to realize it?

"I think I missed you," she whispered softly, fighting back her own tears, just as Elizabeth had earlier. She bit her lip, because suddenly she couldn't remember why she had ever looked down on this child in despair or disgust, and no doubt Liz's words had quelled those feelings somehow.

The woman in question kneeled down beside her, and the look that they shared said more than anything her sister had ever written. Carrie eventually had to break the weight of the gaze, and she stared down at the lump on the bed as she spoke. "I don't know what I was looking for out there, but I think I found her." She could see Elizabeth nodding out of the corner of her eye.

"You certainly have grown," she agreed, "Not height-wise, though, I don't think that would be possible." They chuckled at each other good-naturedly and Carrie leaned over to nudge Elizabeth with her shoulder playfully. "Come on," Elizabeth continued, bobbing her head at the door. "We should let her sleep. You're dinner's ready." Carrie nodded in compliance and followed her out.

Elizabeth sat across from Carrie as she ate, neither sharing a word as Carrie thoughtfully chewed on her food. Eventually, they would talk, and Elizabeth was patient, she had to be.

Finally Carrie placed her fork on the plate, a sign she had finished. "I'm a little afraid, so I kind of want to ask for dessert, but it'll only be delaying the inevitable, wouldn't it?" Elizabeth simply smiled and nodded. "Well… can I have desert anyways? Do you have chocolate? I could really go for some chocolate."

Elizabeth stood up and fetched a carton of ice cream from the freezer, and a spoon. "Here, I won't even bother with the bowl."

"Yay. So, okay, it's chocolate. You can start the lecture now."

"Carrie, I'm not going to lecture you."

"What? Why not?"

"Because I'm not mom. And I'm not a mom, though I've been acting like one for six years."

"Aha! See, lecture, right there. You can't fool me. Come on, just bitch at me, I know you want to."

"You're right, I do want to. I want to throttle you, but I can't say any more than what I've already been saying to you in my letters, and they brought you to me, so what more could I ask for?"

"A good thrashing." Carrie said through a mouthful of ice cream.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "I… actually, I can't even come up with a good argument for that."

Carrie smiled, "I know I shouldn't be, but that answer somehow made me feel sort of satisfied."

Elizabeth stared at the table as she carefully picked through her words, "But… I do want to know… why… what you were feeling… thinking…"

Carrie paused in her gluttony, "You're not going to analyze me, are you?"

"No, no. I want to know as a sister."

"Okay, in that case."

Elizabeth watched as Carrie continued to eat. Fifteen seconds, thirty seconds, "Well?"

"There's not much for me to say, except… I don't know. It was like I spent half my life on impulsive nerves. I was running away from something I should have embraced; there, that's you talking. But it's true." She stopped talking and eating, and sat there with the spoon hovering over the carton, staring down at the tabletop as if she could see the memories float across the wooden surface. Who knows, she probably could. "I still see his face when I'm alone," When she said that, Elizabeth's hand shot out to cradle Carrie's free hand. "I replayed that day in my mind for the first few years, trying to figure out what I could have done differently, done better, done… just done. And there was… nothing, I finally realized. Yet I still couldn't forgive myself. When Katie was born, I saw it as his seed, not mine, that had taken breath, and I just couldn't… be near her, because it was being near him." Carrie gripped Elizabeth's hand and looked up at her. "She's not, is she?"

Elizabeth strayed from the logical voice that would have mentioned that the child was both of theirs, and shook her head. She also refrained from pointing out Carrie's long speech as opposed to the fact that she had said there wasn't much to say. That would be rude; besides, she didn't mind at all. "You'll see just how much. Tomorrow, after you and I have both slept."

"Oh, yeah." Carrie remembered as she dropped the spoon. "What time is it?"

"A little before four."

"Oof. I will not be able to sleep."

"Me neither. Which is why you're in here instead of still outside."

"So… chick flicks until dawn?" Elizabeth laughed at her, and quickly quelled hr laughter, remembering those who could actually manage sleep.

"Well… for old times sake, why not?"

"I've got the ice cream if you've got the channel changer."

"Just don't get any of that on the couch." Elizabeth said as she stood up.

"When did I ever—oh, shut up."

It was more than Elizabeth could have asked for to find Carrie on her doorstep that morning. It was even more of a marvel to find that the child was gone, at least for the most part, but Elizabeth would never want Carrie to lose her playful side. Part of her hoped that her duty of premature motherhood was over now that Carrie had come for her rightful place by Katie's side, and part of her would miss that part of her life forever. But she had already chosen between the two, and she didn't regret her decision. Carrie belonged with Katie, and yes, it would make her remember that night, but nothing would make her forget. Maybe being Katie would at least make her okay with her own existence, which Carrie had never doubted, but still dangerously wished she could end.

The week was just getting more and more interesting.

Batman fingered the new holes that decked out his Batsuit as he crouched behind the chimneystacks he was using for cover. Talia's footsteps crunched over the shells and little pieces of brick that had crumbled off when part of the spray had missed him and embedded themselves in the chimney. Now was a good a time as any, he couldn't hide out forever. He shoved himself into a jump, leaping over his makeshift shield, and sailed over Talia's head. Her eyes widened as she stared at him as he glided over her, her reaction in bringing the gun up a little slow due to shock. Before he hit the ground he kicked the gun out of her hands, and it skated across the rooftop. He landed gracefully on both feet, his movements liquid. Sometimes he was more cat than bat. Talia seemed to forget about her gun when she saw that her aim to her target had been true.

"What are you?" She asked, her words drawn out in astonishment.

Batman ignored her question, "I did not kill your father, but I did not save him either." He spread his hands apologetically, "I can't say that I am sorry. I saved his life once, because he gave me direction in mine, and I thought he was a friend."

"Some friend," She growled.

"That's what I thought, when he turned on me." He lowered his arms and gazed into her eyes. "Did you know what your father had planned for Gotham?"

Her jaw clenched, "You didn't have to kill him."

"I'll take that as a yes." It was time for him to leave, he couldn't convince her he wasn't evil, and he sure as hell wasn't going to kill her just to shut her up. He turned his back to her to walk away, but Talia didn't take it too well. He took a few steps before he heard the safety click on another gun.

"Don't walk away from me."

Batman turned around, his gaze traveling down her form. Long, beautiful brown hair that fell partially over intense brown eyes, and a lithe frame. She was wearing a simple V- neck black sweater, which clung to every sensual curve, and tight black jeans. Where had she been hiding the gun, and how had he missed it?

"Like what you see?" She asked him, disdain crawling through her voice like maggot he was beginning to resemble.

"Got anything else hiding in there I might need to know about?"

"I'll let you know!" She yelled as she ran for him, drawing the gun back to use as a club. She wasn't going to shoot him again—she had seen how well that had worked the first time. Maybe the rest of him wasn't as resistant to pain.