A/N: I knew there was a reason I put Batman in the last story.. but I didn't get why until now. Anyway, here's the next bit. And I'm sorry about all the typos in the first chapter. I hope I've fixed the ones in here.
Book I
From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (1)
Chapter One: Breaking and Mending
From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins/Static Shock
Dear Diary, June 16, 2003
It's going to be a battle. I'm up to that, both as Virgil and as Static, even though the superhero identity will on the witness stand a lot more than my alter ego. Static rescued Richie from the KKK; Static took Richie to the hospital. Virgil, on the other hand, only saw Richie's bruises. I'll have to figure out what I'm going to say about how I knew Richie got the bruises from his father. I can't tell about the Shock Voxes and how I overheard the entire conversation in the principal's office. I'll ask Richie what he thinks when I call him in ten minutes.
I hate not being able to just talk to Richie whenever I want. But his temporary foster family has very strict rules, and one of them (for the children only, of course) is no calls until seven at night, and no calls after eight. Richie has a sister, and so he can talk from seven-thirty until eight, giving her the other half hour. It's not enough, and never will be, but hopefully we can win custody of Richie.
And of course, with Richie living in Gotham, there's no patrolling. It's been so long since I've been out with Gear that I'm starting to think about bringing Rubberband Man with me just to relieve my boredom. Hmmm…. Nope, not quite that desperate.
It's seven twenty-four. This is the longest ten minutes of my life- except so was the time yesterday between 7:20 and 7:30 yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. Richie's been in foster care for four days; it feels like a century. Sharon says I'm exaggerating, but then again she doesn't know that I love Richie. Pops has kept that a secret, thank God. Oh, I'll tell her eventually, once Richie's living here, but I'm not in the mood to be teased.
Seven twenty-five. Too bad speeding up my clock won't make time really go faster. Maybe Richie can build a time machine. If he ever gets back to the gas station. If I ever get a chance to see him again…
Stop thinking like that!
Still seven twenty-five.
I'm almost sorry school is ending in three days. What will I do all day besides wait for the phone to ring? My only comfort is Backpack, who, after apologizing for thinking badly about me (since the feeling was mutual, I apologized then said we were equal) has hidden here with me. He can't talk to Richie from that far away, but sometimes he can get general impressions. Earlier today, he sensed a huge upsurge of happiness from Richie and I assumed Richie had finally gotten the present I'd sent him.
Flashback
I considered the box in my lap. It's only slightly bigger than shoebox, which is amazing considering all the stuff I managed to fit in it. Pops and Sharon helped me put it together this morning after the KKK/Hotstreak attack. Richie's still in the hospital, but he'll be out this afternoon, and headed for Gotham before sunset. He'll get this at his new address. I had to give him something to make him feel a little bit better. On the top of the box, it says "FH Survival Kit". FH stands for Foster Home.
Item one: comics, an essential part of our diet since Richie and I were eight. All our favorites are there: Plantman, Particalman, Kung Pow, LocoMartian and a Static/Gear comic I drew myself a few months ago. It was supposed to be for Richie's birthday. Under the circumstances, I'm pretty sure he'd rather have it now instead of later. I'll try to draw another before July 28th. Hopefully Richie will be back in Dakota by then. He could stay with his mom, but she's having a Nervous Breakdown, with a capital NB.
Item two: a homing device just in case Richie really needs me. Rich built these little babies three months ago. We haven't had to use them for an emergency yet, but with my powers I can pick up the homing signal almost half a world away.
Item three: my Green Lantern blanket. I don't know if this will embarrass or anger Richie, but I'm hoping it will make him feel better about being in a strange place. When I was four, Moms gave it to me. I thought the thing was huge when I was that age, but it can be rolled up really small. I put a note with it that says, basically, that it was my comfort when I was little and I wanted Richie to have it. Maybe Rich is too old for it, but there's a tickle in the back of my mind that hopes he'll like it.
Item four: pictures of the two of us, and a few newspaper clippings. I don't know what Richie can take from his old house to this new place, or what his father hasn't destroyed, so I'll give him these. My favorite picture is one Pops took of Richie and I, nine years old, huddled under the Green Lantern blanket on the couch, our eyes glued to the T.V. Rich an I are holding hands, and it's dark outside the windows, so I bet we're watching Are You Afraid of the Dark? Just under that is a newspaper clipping. The headline reads: "Static's New Partner- Gizmo!" Despite the fact that they quote me as saying his name is Gear in the article, the title still stands. Richie was so furious (at first) then amused (much later) that I had to save the clipping.
Item five: my first love letter to Richie. It's four pages long.
End Flashback
Seven twenty-nine!
Okay, I can write again, and I want to write down what he said so I won't forget it. Thirty-one minutes ago:
I pick up the phone and start dialing slowly. I call most nights, except on weekends when Richie's foster parents have free minutes. I agreed to do it after the first two-minute call where Richie said he couldn't talk for a long time because of the cost of long distance. Pops says I can call Richie each night as long as I only stay on for half an hour.
Backpack scuttles from the bed to my bed and leans close tot eh phone so he can hear Richie's voice.
Seven-thirty. I punch the last few keys and the phone rings once.
"Hi, V! I got your package! Thank you!"
My face lights up at once as I grin. "Hi, Rich. I'm glad it got there okay." I take a deep breath as tears sting my eyes. It's so good to hear him sound happy. The last three days, I've had to talk to him a little before I was able to raise his spirits. "I miss you."
"I miss you, too. How was school?"
"It was so boring I was forced to take notes."
Richie laughs. "I'm glad you aren't copying off me anymore. How's BP?"
I wish they could talk to each other over the phone, but the mental connection doesn't recognize phone lines as a means of transportation. I take out the sheet Backpack printed off my computer. "Ready for his speech?"
"Always."
"'Hello, Richie. Hello, G." (We don't dare say "Backpack" or "Gear" over the phone, just in case.) "I miss you. Today, Sharon made pasta that looked like earthworms- she said it was the brown sauce- and Virgil pretended to eat it. He volunteered to do dishes to pass the time before he could call you, and so he could make himself a sandwich. I went on the Net and found out that there are ten Static Shock fan sites, twenty-one that are for both Static and Gear, and three for just Gear.'"
"Our superheroes sure are popular," Richie puts in, laughing again. "Have they been on the news?"
"Nope," I tell him, "Dakota's been awfully quiet lately."
Richie's "Oh" sounds like a disappointed Gear. I laugh.
"This is BP again. 'I tried my hand at cooking today, with Virgil's help. We filled the kitchen with smoke and set off smoke detectors. Luckily we got it all cleaned up before anyone got home."
Richie is laughing so hard that all I hear over the phone is "…Huuuuhhh ….hisssss…. hahahaha…. so cool…. Kuhfffff……"
"Breathe, Richie," I said.
"….trying….haha….kuhfffff…… snort snort … Okay…. Okay, I'm better now…" Richie takes a deep breath. "Man, I needed that…"
"We're always glad to oblige. BP's got a little more. 'If you need me, Richie, just call, and I'll be there. So will Virgil."
"I know. Tell BP thank you for me, V."
Backpack beeps and Richie chuckles. "Now, Virg, about the blanket…."
"You're in a strange place, Richie; I thought it'd make you feel better." I keep my tone light, but my words aren't lost on Richie.
"It does." Richie's voice is so low I can barely hear him. At a more normal volume, he continues, "Thank you for the pictures. Mr. and Mrs. Edmann gave me some picture frames, and I'm going to make collages tonight. After I do my homework."
I can't believe he hasn't done it yet. Richie's not a procrastinator. "How do you like the new school?"
"It's quiet, religious and… nice." Richie sounds apologetic. "I love Dakota Union High but, well, I've gotten a chance to ask a lot of questions here. I haven't gotten answers yet, but I'm closer than I ever was at home."
"Rich, what are you talking about?"
Richie coughs. "I'm not sure yet, Virg. I'm… I feel protected here. It's a feeling I've only had in two other places: your house and…"
"BP's house," I supply, meaning the gas station.
I can almost hear the smile in Richie's voice as his Bang-Baby brain makes the connection instantly. "Yeah. There."
I decide not to push him. He'll explain when he's good and ready. "I'm glad you found a place to feel safe, Richie. Maybe when you're living here you can visit there sometimes."
"I'm already emailing several of the teachers and pastors. I won't lose touch with them."
Pastors? Well, he did say it was a religious school. I glance at my watch. "Richie, it's seven fifty. Is there anything we need to talk about tonight?"
He doesn't answer right away. I watch the clock tick over to seven fifty-one. "I sent you a letter, V. It will say everything I want to say, and probably more coherently. Will you…" He swallows, started again. "I don't want to make you worry, but-"
Instantly, alarm bells clang in my head. "You can tell me anything, Richie," I say, thinking, If anyone's hurting him, if anyone is even picking on him…
"The nightmares… they're getting really bad. I woke up Mr. and Mrs. Edmann with a really bad one last night."
"What was it, Rich?"
"Him."
"No hair or blond hair?" Which means: Brainiac or Mr. Foley?
"No hair." There's a distinct quiver in Richie's voice. "It was the worst one yet... I couldn't wake up on my own…" He sobs, then clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Virg; this isn't fair to you. I'll be-"
"If you want me there, Rich, I'll get there somehow. Just say the word."
Richie fights in silence for a moment, then speaks. "You can't come, Virg. You have things you have to do there. And coming for one night won't make it all better. I'll be okay. Your letter really helped… Everything really helped. It's only a week until the trial, and then I'll be able to see you. I can make it that long."
"Bro, you're the bravest man I know."
Richie laughs, his voce cracking. "I love you." He stops, seeming to realize what he said over the phone, and adds, 'Bro, you're the best." Then, after a moment, "It's eight o'clock. I have to go."
"I love you, too, my brother." I don't care how corny it sounds. "Try to sleep tonight."
"I will. Love to BP and to your pops and sister."
"Right back atcha, Rich."
"Bye, V."
"Bye."
Richie hangs up.
Back to the future, just like the movie: I want to fly out there. I could do it in a night, but I know the police are watching Richie's new family just in case the K decides to take their hate all the way to Gotham. So I have to stay here an
Chapter One: Breaking and Mending
The crash of splintering wood shocked Virgil out of his diary and back to the real world. He sat, disoriented, for a moment, then heard Sharon scream as the sound breaking wood was repeated. Virgil stood up so fast his chair fell over backwards and he almost went over with it.
That was the front door. Virgil grabbed for his bag, and his costume inside it.
Backpack beeped the moved towards the door.
The sound of breaking glass accompanied another of his sister's screams.
Virgil shook his head as he yanked off his clothes. "Stay here. If I need you, I'll call." In a trice, he was dressed and out his window. Downstairs, rising everywhere, was the smell of smoke.
oOo
The ten white-robed figures were scattered over the front lawn. One had raised his hand, another brick at the ready. Two were at the door, trying to knock it down.
Static took in the scene, and his fear for his family was forgotten in his anger. You picked the wrong house, gentlemen, he thought. With less difficulty than it takes to tell (such was his fury), Static picked up the two garbage cans near the curb and sent them rocketing through the air. He smiled, satisfied, when the cans hit the two men at the door squarely, slamming them against the door. They slumped forward, their eyes rolling up to show the whites. Static picked up the cans again and turned towards the other KKK members on the lawn. The one with the brick had dropped it in surprise. Static smiled at them. "Hey, boys! Didn't you know it's Reverse-Racism Day? Today, the ns fight back!" He hurled the cans, catching the one who had been holding the brick and the two directly behind him.
Static didn't wait for any of the others to find either their feet or their wits; he yanked part of the next door neighbor's chain link fence out of the ground and used it like a dipper. He scooped up four of the five remaining men and tossed them high in air. They went up screaming and came down on the chain link dipper again. Static wrapped them up in the bit of fence and dropped them on the ground from a height of ten feet. The little ball they were in bounced and rolled- right over the three unconscious men in the front yard.
"Bet you wouldn't have attacked us if you had known it was Reverse Racism Day, would you, boys?" Static picked up the two men who had collapsed by the front door. He dropped these next to the others on the lawn. Dexterously, he unwrapped the four in the fence and plopped the other five inside with them. It was a tight fit, but Static grinned as he wound the fence tight around them. "What's wrong, boys?" he muttered, knowing they were unconscious. "Pressure too much for you? Feeling the squeeze? Maybe you'll think twice before you mess with my territory."
Static turned at the sound of groaning wood. He saw that someone was trying to force their way outside. He caught the doorknob with his power and yanked it open. Mr. Hawkins stumbled forward in surprise and would have fallen down the steps if Virgil hadn't caught him and set him back on his feet.
The older man gazed at the nine white-robed figures caught as well as ever a spider captured a fly, then he looked at Static. "Thank you."
Sharon was standing beside her father. She was holding a large pan in her hands. "Daddy, the fire's out. Who-" She caught sight of Static and smiled.
Static flew down to them. "Are you sure the fire's out?"
Sharon nodded. "Yeah…" She saw the men and shivered. "I thought things like this didn't happen anymore," she whispered.
Her father put an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe with the capture of these, the others will take the hint and go back underground."
Static wondered how much he should say. He wanted them to feel safe again, but he had to have them on their guard. "One of them said something about teaching the friends of Foley." He watched them exchange a look. "They've probably learned their lesson now, but maybe you should tell the police just in case." A part of him wondered why he had just lied, but another part, the stronger part, knew instinctively that the K hadn't attacked his house at random. Maybe Mr. Foley ordered them to attack here before he was taken to the police. Suddenly, Static had to know for sure, and he knew the only person who could tell him the truth was Richie's dad.
To his family, he said, "I'll see this bunch to the police station." Wait. They're going to be looking for Virgil. Well, can't be helped. I'll dump these guys off, come back check in with Pops, then go interrogate Foley.
"You should be all right now, but I'll make sure to patrol this area regularly until things settle down. He offered them a reassuring smile, then picked up the fence-wrapped nine and flew off.
Twenty minutes later, after depositing the white-robes at the police station, checking in the with Backpack to let the robot know all was well, and pretending to have just come in from a bike ride and discussing stuff with his father, Static flew back to the police station, meaning to find out exactly where Mr. Foley was being held.
And as he flew, this thought ran through his mind: Here I come, Foley, ready or not. The grin that came with this not-so-innocent sing-song completely transformed his face. He flew on, completely unaware that he more resembled a goblin than Dakota's funky fresh hero.
oOo
Static reined in his temper. It was surprisingly difficult. He hoped the police captain he was speaking to heard and appreciated the enormous amount of control it took for the superhero before him to keep from losing his temper.
"What do you mean he's out on bail?" Static asked, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "How could you let an abusive… man… like him go free?"
"He isn't a child molester, Static, or a rapist. He's a man who abused his son. He won't look for anyone else to hurt. And since Richard is safe-"
Static's voice dropped but the words carried easily. "He's a KKK member. How can you let him go free? What if he hurts someone? What if he was involved with these clowns tonight?"
"Mr. Foley may be abusive, but there is nothing in his record to show that he would carry out anything that the Ku Klux Klan preaches" The man shrugged. "I think with this attack that they've gotten all thoughts of attacking innocent people out of their systems. I wouldn't worry about them again if I were you. We don't take kindly to any sort of hate crimes. You can be sure these men will be penalized to the full extent of the law."
Static stared at him, for the moment unable to think past the fact that Richie's father was still walking around free.
The captain must have seen that the superhero before him was still furious, because he said, somewhat apologetically, "We thought it was safe. After all, it isn't as if Mr. Foley's son is anywhere near Dakota right now."
"That," said Static, shaking out his saucer with a savage flip of his wrist and energizing it, "isn't the point." Not trusting himself to say anything more, he leapt onto his ride and flew out the open window.
Once he was outside, Static headed for the junkyard. I need something to destroy. He shot south, his teen bared and tiny sparks streaming behind him.
In the junkyard, Static located four cars. He stacked these, narrowed his gaze, wound up much like a baseball pitcher, and let the cars have it. As electricity enveloped the cars, Static thought, There's your mistake, Captain; men like Foley don't stop with just their son. Their hatred feeds on itself. It will destroy everything if left unchecked.
Ten minutes (and four piles of scrap metal later) Static retreated to the gas station. Once there, and with the doors locked, he curled up on the couch and buried his head under a pillow. Richie, I miss you. I feel like my world's falling apart. When did it get so hard to make people understand who the bad guys are? And when did it get so hard for me to stay calm? When did this happen, Rich, and what can I do about it?
He lay that way, perfectly still and sorrowful, until he heard City Hall's clock strike ten. Is it still that early? Static longed for morning.
More specifically, I want it be seven twenty-nine tomorrow night. I want to talk to my Richie.
Groaning, knowing that he might be grounded if he wasn't home when his father went looking for him, Static dragged himself off the couch and went home.
oOo
Backpack sent the message again with no real hope that it would reach all the way to Gotham. But he had been trying to build a stronger mental connection since Richie was "punished" by the KKK. I need to know if he's in danger, the robot thought he sent the message again. If I can't be with him, I need a way to keep in touch with him. Telephone calls are nice; I like hearing his voice. But if he needs me, really needs me, I must know. Virgil seems content to just leave Richie out there on his own, but he doesn't understand Richie like I do. And Richie may have Gear to help him, but what he really needs is someone on the outside taking care of him.
Again, he sent the message: Richie, can you hear me? Respond if you do.
If he could have sighed, he would have. Perhaps the simple human act would have relieved some of his frustration, if not his worry. How many more times will I have to send this before Richie answers? This would be so much easier if Richie still had the implant Brainiac gave him. As much as I hated that thing, as much as I hated that it changed our connection, suddenly I could hear Richie even when he was somewhere else. When Brainiac left me and entered Richie, he would sometimes take Richie places that were miles away from the gas station. But no matter how far away my Richie had been taken, I could still hear his thoughts.
He stopped transmitting the message. What if I built the chip again? What if I did that, then sent it to Richie? Then we could always be in contact, no matter what. I would always be able to hear his thoughts, no matter how far away he was. I would always be there to hear if he shouted for help.
Backpack searched his databanks for a copy of the schematics for the chip. The Justice League may have erased all such records… Ah! There it is! Backpack pulled up the schematic and studied it with his internal eye. I could have this built within a day. All I need to do is return to the gas station.
Pleased with himself and at peace for the first time since Richie had been taken by Brainiac, Backpack set himself into recharge mode for the night. I will go in the morning. Virgil can take me on his way to school. It wouldn't do to be spotted by some enemy and captured. I won't let anyone keep me from helping Richie, and that includes avoiding all possible dangers.
oOo
I've been here for a week now, Richie thought as he hung up the phone. A whole week and things haven't fallen apart yet, either in my head or back in Dakota. Maybe V and I will actually survive this thing.
Of course, the trial wasn't far off; Richie decided he wouldn't dare to trust to fate until that was over.
Richie slipped under the covers, taking the Green Lantern blanket from its place beside his pillow and snuggling into it. He found it easier to sleep if he went right to bed after talking to Virgil. The hour was ridiculously early, and it almost ensured that Richie would wake up at four or five in the morning, but it was so much easier to fall asleep when he could practically still hear Virgil saying good-bye or good night.
Richie chuckled to himself. Of course, it would help if I'd take off my glasses. On more than one occasion he had fallen asleep with the things still on his face and woken up with angry red lines from where the frames had dug into his skin.
Richie curled on his side. As on previous nights, he was prompted to pray. Since he was accustomed to only praying during times of high stress, Richie was amazed how calming he found prayers right before he slept.
Hi, God. This is Richie Foley again. Thank You for letting me talk to V today. Thank You for his inspiring and loving words. Thank You for BP's inspiring words. I'm asking this question again, but I'll keep asking it until I get answer, one way or the other: does BP have a soul? I think he does, but I'd like to know what You think. Anyway, I'm grateful that You've kept the nightmares away. Please continue to do so. Reverend Ovid (he said I could call him that, and maybe it's silly, but I think of V every time I say his name) reminded me to thank You for the sacrifice Your Son made. I believe in Him now, and in the Holey Spirit, too, as real manifestations of You. So, here goes: Lord God, I am a sinner. I have sinned against You, against others and against myself. I know, Lord God, that I must give over control of my soul to You, must accept Jesus as my lord and savior to be saved myself. And so I do. I ask you to welcome me into your kingdom, God, in the name of Your Son, my Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Richie fell asleep five minutes later with a smile on his face.
He dreamed.
The darkness of midnight was broken by a thousand stars. Richie lay on his back on Virgil's roof, staring up at them. For some reason, every light in Dakota was dark. Richie wasn't worried. It was just a power failure, he thought. V went to check it out, to make sure nothing meta-human related happened, but he'll be home soon. Stretching his hands up over his head, Richie released a groan of pleasure as his muscles lost the tension they had been holding. Don't know why I was tense, but I am. Ah, well. I'll live. The tension's gone now.
He heard soft scuffling and electronic behind sounds him. He rolled over to look, and saw Backpack coming towards him. Richie grinned. Hey, BP. Enjoying the-
Richie couldn't have accurately described the sensation that flooded him at that moment if he'd tried. Somewhere between an invasive probe and an arousing caress, the feeling started inside his head and spread throughout his body, lighting his nerves on fire and making them dance. He writhed, both towards his robot, his eyes frozen wide. Bp, what-?
We can feel each other now, Richie. Can't we? We can feel each other this way. I will always be able to talk to you, no matter how far away you are. Backpack scuttled over to Richie and settled himself next to the teen.
Richie drew himself a little away and sat up fully, his eyes not leaving Backpack's single sensor-eye. You aren't doing this, are you, BP? Are you making me feel…? He couldn't find the word.
Backpack found it. A whore? Why do you feel like a whore, Richie? It's just me in your mind, like always. I'm trying to help you. Why are you afraid?
Richie started to crawl backwards. That sensation hadn't left, but his body was getting used to it, allowing him to move. I want V. I want V.
Virgil's in Dakota, Richie. You're not really in this dream-world you've created. You're in Gotham, asleep in a small house surrounded by a white fence. There are rose bushes on the front two corners of the house, and Mrs. Edmann picks a fresh one each morning when they're in season to put on the kitchen table. The roses from the day before are hanging upside down in the kitchen, drying. She will turn these into carefully preserved decorations for-
Stop! Richie staggered to his feet and backed away. How can you know all this? Then he laughed. I must be making all this up. I'm trying to scare myself. He looked around, looking for some way to escape the dream. I won't scream again; I know it's a dream this time. I can make myself wake up if I really want to.
Backpack took a tentative step towards him.
I really want to! Richie cried, his legs trembling like grass in a breeze as he took another step back. He pinched himself, but didn't wake up. I must not be really pinching myself in my sleep, he thought. I'm probably twitching a little, but I'm not able to hurt myself.
Backpack moved closer. Richie, I'm sorry you're upset. Please let me help you. If I'm hurting you, I'll break the connection. I was just trying to be closer to you. I don't like it when you're so far away. I don't like not being able to know where you are and what's happening to you. It reminds me of when you were at the meeting hall and I didn't know what was happening to you, only that you were gone for far too long.
Was Backpack babbling? That settles it. I must be dreaming. But, Justin case… BP, can you leave, please? I'm really scared. Please, whatever you did to reach me all the way in Gotham, please undo it. I promise I'm okay out here. Maybe when I get back we can work on the invention you made so it will work without making me feel…
Weird? Backpack suggested. I'm sorry I frightened you, Richie. And, just like that, he was gone.
Richie stared at the place his robot had been, thinking, Maybe this is all in my head after all. I probably just made him go away.
Richie awoke, his heart pounding. He groped for and found his glasses. He slipped them on, and almost screamed. A shadow tall as a giant stood near his window where no shadow should have been. Richie's first thought was, How could Ebon have followed me? His second was for the homing device under his pillow. But eh didn't fumble for it at once. "Who's there/"
The shadow stepped forward, and became slightly less intimidating, though no shorter. "Richie, I need to talk to you."
Richie knew better than to ask questions of The Batman, and so he slipped silently out of bed, yanked on pants, a shirt, socks and shoes. For good measure, he grabbed the homing device out from under his pillow and slipped it into his pocket.
"A weapon?" Batman asked.
Richie was just shaken enough to speak to the Dark Knight without hesitation. "Insurance. If anything happens to me, this will go off and Static will be here in an hour."
Batman gave a curt nod. "Let's go."
Richie followed him to the window. When Batman told Richie to hold on to him, Richie shivered. He didn't want to be within touching distance of Batman. Nevertheless, he obeyed. After all, if Batman was here, maybe he, Richie, was needed. Maybe even V needed him.
Batman shot his bat-hook (or whatever he calls the thing, Richie thought) into the air and an instant later the two of them were up and out. Richie had never been afraid of heights, and now he was glad as the two of them soared upwards. Richie hadn't been able to see what the hook had hit, but he trusted Batman's aim. It was probably as good as Backpack's.
Thinking of his robot, Richie shivered again.
They broke through some clouds and then Richie saw the Batplane. He almost forgot that he'd been having a nightmare only a few moments ago when he saw it. So cool. Someday, when I'm rich, I'm going to build one like that.
The roof opened and Batman deposited Richie in the second seat. Instantly, a harness dropped over Richie's shoulders, restraining him and protecting him. Batman was in his seat then, and the roof closed. Richie was pushed back into his seat as the plane shot off.
Batman handed something over the back of the seat. Richie took it automatically. "Put it on," Batman said as Richie turned the blindfold in his hands.
Richie didn't protest; he felt safer with Batman than he had since leaving Dakota.
Actually, that's not true. I was completely at peace with myself and with the world when I went to sleep. I was comfortable when I said the prayer. But it still feels good to be with another human being I can trust.
When the blindfold was in place, Richie thought they would just ride in silence until they got to wherever they were going. But Batman surprised him.
"You don't argue as much as your partner."
Richie snorted laughter; he couldn't help it. It wasn't only the words, but the seeming randomness of them. And, oh, God, it felt good to have something to laugh at. "He's not the most trusting of souls, or the most accepting. But I like that; it's harder for him to be taken in by false pretenses then it might be for others."
To that Batman had no reply. They flew in silence. Richie began to enjoy the trip, blindfold or no blindfold. He listened to the hum of the engines and tried to figure out from the sound how they were designed and what powered them.
Batman broke into his thoughts. "Do you know why I came to find you?"
"Honestly, no. I thought maybe V asked you to-"
"I haven't spoken to Virgil. I'm here to talk to you about your hospital stay. About that conversation we had when you woke up that night I stayed with you."
Richie frowned, thinking back. It was harder than he would have thought to find the memory.
He's talking about when Backpack built the wall and kept me-
Shut up, Gear. Backpack didn't do it. And if you say that one more time, maybe I'll find a way to build a wall.
You shouldn't joke about things like that, Richie. Especially after that dream you just had. Don't forget to tell Batman about that.
He doesn't want to hear about my screwed-up dreams.
"Richie?"
The teen jumped a little. "Sorry." He blushed. "I remember. It just took me a minute."
"Your lips were moving."
Richie blinked. "Uh, really? Could you read them?" How could Batman see him anyway when he was facing the canopy's front window?
"Some of it. But I'm more interested in the fact that your eyes changed." A pause, then, "We're almost there. We'll continue this inside."
A minute or so later, the Batplane settled and the engines cut off. Richie sat perfectly still in the silence for a moment. The canopy opened above him, but still he sat.
"Richie?" A hand removed the blindfold, making it disappear. Batman was standing beside him, looking down at him. "What is it?"
Richie bit his lip. "I'm all right." He climbed out. "I'm sorry…"
Batman was tempted suddenly to hold the boy against him. No. I will sin against his trust as I did against Dick's. I will not fill him with false hope. If you hold a child once, they always expect to be held. "Follow me." He led Richie through an echoingly-large space to a cavern that took Richie's breath away.
Computers lined one wall- Richie grinned- and other were lined with tables and held all sorts of intricately-built inventions. Richie's eyes filled with a hunger that temporarily drove all frightened and confused thoughts from his mind.
Gear was in heaven. Richie wasn't far behind.
Look at this! Virg must have seen this when he was chasing Allie! He must have… Richie turned around in a complete circle, trying to see everything and memorize it. Someday I want to get just a few hours alone with all these amazing-
Richie stopped turning. Batman was walking briskly away from him. The teen hurried to catch up.
The two of them climbed a staircase and Batman led Richie through a door. Richie found himself in a library the likes of which he had only seen in the large library in Dakota. And I think this one might be even bigger.
He noticed that there were windows, but these were covered by heavy, brocade drapes. That's probably so I can't see where I am. He didn't care. He followed Batman to a pair of leather chairs. Richie hesitated, but when Batman gestured for him to sit, Richie obeyed. He sat as his foster family did when they were waiting for something, be it a performance or a meal. He was conscious that he had adopted their posture, but he didn't care. All he really wanted was to not step on Batman's toes.
Batman sat beside him. "Start with the hospital. Can you tell me anything more about that night? You said you were confused about certain memories."
Richie shook his head. "I don't remember anything more than I told you. I was in pain- from the beating the KKK gave me- and I asked V or his sister to find a nurse. Sharon went out, but I started to feel…" He shrugged. "I guess the closest thing I can come up with is being drunk, but I'm never been drunk. I couldn't control what I said without a massive effort. Then I went back to sleep. When I woke up, you were there and I felt all right, although lost and a bit disoriented." He took a deep breath. "I don't really understand what made my memory fuzzy, but something happened to me." He swallowed. "In my mind."
Batman studied him for a moment. "Tell me what you know, Richie. I won't judge anything you say."
Richie swallowed again. Can I trust him not to laugh? Then he smiled inside himself. He's Batman; he won't laugh. Maybe he can't laugh. "The Big Bang changed me, just as it changed V. My power's super intelligence, which is helpful, but sometimes scary. Recently, shortly after my… time… with Brainiac, I started to realize that there are two people in my head. There's the person I think of Richie- the one speaking to you now- and there's Gear. This separation isn't like what happens to many superheroes, where they associate one set of behaviors with their mask and another with their secret identities. Gear and I are really two separate people. So when you saw my eyes change, I guess that was probably because I was talking to Gear in the Batplane. But I've never seen them change, so I can't be sure."
Batman showed no surprise or disbelief. "Let me talk to Gear."
The teen's voice deepened, but only by half a pitch or so. And yes, Batman saw his eyes change, harden. "You're speaking to him now. Most people have different aspects to their personality. In our case, Richie and I were gifted or cursed with the ability to actually be separate people with separate memories and ideas about the world. We share many things, and we can read each other at all times, but we are distinct personalities for all that. There are times we don't agree on things, and we value things differently."
Gear sat forward, meeting Batman's eyes without flinching. "A wall was created in our mind, and I was imprisoned behind it. I could her Richie's thoughts as only echoes. I could read his emotions, but not his specific ideas." His eyes turned inward for a moment, then he looked back at Batman. "Richie says he couldn't feel me at all, partially because at first he didn't realize I was gone. He felt our separation as a struggle to keep a lid on his emotions. When he did become aware, he was able to demolish the walls from the outside that I had been straining against without success. We were both tired afterwards, but the wall came down and hasn't been put back in place."
Suddenly, he frowned with such ferocity that Batman wondered how different Gear and Richie really were. Surely Richie's face had never held such a look of rage. He watched as Gear again looked within himself. This time, when he refocused, it was Richie who was in the forefront. The teen looked down at his hands. "I do know what made me confused and dazed and made my memories fuzzy. But if I tell you, promise you won't hurt him."
"Hurt who?"
"Backpack. He didn't mean to hurt me; he was only trying to protect me from the pain. He… severed the connections between my mind and my body. That's why I felt disconnected from myself." He shook his head violently. "Gear thinks Backpack made the wall, too, but he has no proof. And a lot of things have changed in Dakota, but people, even robot-shaped ones, are still innocent until proven guilty."
Batman considered Richie's words, thinking, He is a little like Scarface, or rather, the man who controlled Scarface. That man, too, had two personalities that he was convinced were separate. If you speak to one, it didn't mean you spoke to the other. Batman looked at Richie, and saw that the teen was looking inside himself again. The only difference here is that Richie and Gear understand they are the same person, just split. I do not believe Richie is mad; I think he has really been split in two. The question is this: can they be put back together? And if they can, should they?
He turned his mind from that with an effort. Backpack is the concern right now. I will address that first, then try to talk to these two.
"Tell me about Backpack's artificial intelligence."
Richie looked relieved that Batman wasn't angry. "I never built any sort of intelligence into him, but he developed it on his own."
"Did it exist before Brainiac?"
Richie blinked, and Batman read his expression easily. The teen was surprised by the question; it would have never occurred to him. "Before. He started showing the first signs of his own intelligence the day I introduced him to V. He'd only been built a week ago. When I introduced him to Virg, I sensed Backpack enjoying the fact that we had snuck up on V. And I felt his pride when V told me how cool BP was. I wasn't hearing thoughts, and at first I thought I was just imagining things. But when Gear finally talked me into connecting to BP- my mind to his system- I realized that BP did have an intelligence of his own."
"You said that Gear convinced you. When was this?"
"About two weeks before Brainiac."
Does he reckon all time in relation ti when Brainiac kidnapped him? Yes, I think he does, and it isn't necessarily unhealthy. For a long time I thought of the world in terms of "before my parents died" and "after". In time, Richie will heal. I shouldn't expect that yet.
"And when did Gear come into existence?"
"I was consciously aware of him around the same time Virg and I met Shebang. That would make it about two weeks after I'd become comfortable with Backpack."
"But you said Gear urged you to connect with Backpack. Now you're telling me that you didn't know he was there until after you had connected to Backpack."
"I was receiving Gear's suggestions, but I thought they were just from another part of me. I didn't know my personality had split."
"How did you feel when you discovered that you were two people?"
"At first I didn't really care," Richie answered, and he was looking at his hands again. "It was strange, yeah, but I had other things to worry about. After Brainiac… I started to get scared, especially when Gear started arguing with me. But Gear said ti was all right, that I had only been affected by the Big Bang, that the change could be for the better. He said," and here Richie's voice changed, again dropping that-half step in pitch, "You're a genius, Richie. You've just developed more of your brain than most people, that's all. You've developed a way- albeit subconsciously- to get more control over your emotions. For lack of a better description, you have a system of checks and balances in your head. I keep you from panicking, and you keep me human."
"Why does Richie need to keep you human, Gear?" I have become a psychologist as well as a crime fighter. Who besides Alfred saw this coming? It is just as well that most of the criminals never see this side of me.
"I made of more intellect than emotion. I think of things in terms of right and wrong, not in terms of how others will react. My soul is not fully developed, if you will." He offered Batman a wintry smile. "For good or for ill, this is the way Richie is now: split in half. If you got rid of one of us, the other would either die or turn into someone you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley."
His eyes shifted again. "Gear and I have a happy balance. But I guess you don't need to hear about all this. We're managing without too many problems."
"Does Virgil know about this internal split?"
Richie blinked. "Um, no. It never occurred to me to tell him."
Gear added, "He wouldn't like it if he knew."
"V wouldn't care! He'd-"
"Face it, Richie; no one likes a real freak. The only reason everybody in Dakota likes Static is because he acts like a regular teenager in spite of his superpowers. He wouldn't like you if he knew-"
White hands came up to cover Richie's face. He struggled in silence for a moment, then looked up, meeting Batman's eyes. "I'm sorry," Richie whispered. "I try to keep our occasional arguments inside. I don't want to sound crazy."
The arguments have increased, Batman thought. "Richie, will you let me see if I can help you? There might be a way to recombine the two of you so this wouldn't happen."
"But, we balance each other!" Richie looked frightened, and he flinched back from Batman.
"You were balanced before the split. You can be balanced again."
"You can't undo the effects of the Big Bang without taking our intelligence," Gear snapped. "No thank you."
"Perhaps I can." This isn't why I brought him here, but this is what Richie needs. I would trust Gear in a fight, but I don't like him on his own.
"Do you want to try?" Batman asked. "I have other concerns about your relationship with Backpack, and I would rather that you be one whole person instead of two. You haven't considered what might happen if there are more splits in your personality. It would be bets to stop it now before other separations can occur."
"Who else can there be?" Richie asked. "It's just me and Gear. I don't have nay other personalities."
"A part of you could form around the idea of school. Another could form around your home. There are infinite possibilities."
Richie's eyes were wide. "Can you stop it?"
"What if he-"
"Gear, shut up." Richie met Batman's gaze. "Please, if you think you can help, please do it. I don't mind Gear, but I don't want to risk…" Richie took a deep breath and his voice changed one last time. "Help if you can," Gear whispered, for the first time looking uncertain. "I don't mind if we're joined again, as long as we don't go insane or lose the good things the Big Bang gave us. And, after that, will you listen to our two ideas about Backpack?"
"Gladly."
Richie stood. "I'll do whatever you need me to, but can you tell my… Mr. and Mrs. Edmann where I've gone? They'll be worried, and the police will have a fit."
Batman nodded. "Yes, I'll tell them." And, in spite of the urging of his mind, Batman put his arm around Richie's shoulders. "You have been very brave. Let me help you put yourself back together."
oOo
I'm scared, but I guess we weren't meant to be like this.
What really galls me is that we're a genius. How could we have missed the dangerous possibilities?
Richie gave a mental shrug. Physically, he was asleep, but in his mind he was completely awake. Well, sometimes when you're so deep in a problem, you can't see the whole thing.
True enough. Gear chuckled. I'm sorry I was causing you so many headaches. I just wanted to make sure that you heard me.
Well, once we're joined again, we'll always hear each other. Richie sensed Gear's frown. What is it?
How is Batman going to join us? I mean, we're asleep. He could do anything.
Since he would never hurt me/us, I/you/we suggest that you/I/we just let him do what he does best. He knows a lot more about everything than you/we/I could have ever imagined.
I don't know how yo/I/we can trust so easily… but maybe trust is better than mistrust sometimes…
Gear….? Gear, can you/I/we hear you/us/me/ Can…
oOo
Richie awoke to feel the sun warming his face. He lay motionless, enjoying the feeling. He became aware of the bed beneath him and the coverlet over him after a moment of luxuriating in the sunlight. Then he noticed the silence around him. He opened his eyes and reached out to his left, fumbling for his glasses. He had a dim, drug-fogged memory of placing them on a table nearby last night. He found his glasses, sat up and slipped them on. The world sprang into focus. He was in a large bedchamber. The bed he'd been laying in was huge and comfortable and the sunlight said it had to be late afternoon and…
And…
And there was no other voice in his head?
Gear? But even before he'd called, Richie understood with Gear's lightning-quick leaps of intuition: it worked. Batman was able to rejoin us. I'm just Richie again. He grinned as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. I need to find him and thank him. He stopped short, a small smile pulling at his lips. And maybe I can even persuade him to tell me how he put me back together. He took a step, stopped again. Wait a minute. It's sunset. What time is it?
He turned a half9cricle before spotting the clock. Seven thirty-two! Shit1
Richie tore out of the room. He had only gone a dozen running steps before he met Batman coming up the stairs. The Dark Knight grabbed Richie's elbow before the teen could trip down the stairs. "Where are you going?"
Richie was too anxious to notice the slight bit of surprise in The Batman's tone. "Virg calls me every night at seven-thirty. If he calls and I'm not there, I'll get really worried!"
Batman put his hand on Richie's shoulder. "I'll take you to a phone."
oOo
In the Hawkins' house, the telephone rang.
"I'll get it!" Virgil yelled, jumping up from the dinner table. He had interrupted a late dinner of underdone meatloaf to try and call RIhcie five minutes ago. Mrs. Edmann had informed him that Richie had been taken into special protection because of police concerns. She hadn't been able to say much, even about how Ichie was when he left. "He was taken in the middle of the night so as to avoid detection," she explained.
Was he kidnapped? went through Virgil's mind, but he hadn't asked it. He had returned to the dinner table with no intention of eating another thing and with the determination that he would visit the police station as soon as his pops let him go.
And now the phone was ringing again.
Virgil pounced on the receiver. "Richie?"
"Hey, V. I'm-"
"Hey? Is that all you can say? Where are you? What happened? Are you okay? Which police department took you into protective custody, and why'd they do it? Did they finally figure out that your dad being out on bail isn't such a good idea?"
When Virgil stopped to catch his breath, Richie asked, "Are you done?"
Virgil groaned. "Rich, you scared me out of my mind. I thought maybe-" Then he glanced at his pops and sister still sitting at the table. "Maybe I should go somewhere alone."
"This line's secure," Richie answered, "and you don't have to say anything incriminating; just listen."
Virgil took in a deep breath, more to steady himself than because he needed the oxygen. "Okay. I'm listening."
"Batman came to the Edmann's last night. He wanted to talk to me about Backpack and about why I was so out of it that first day in the hospital. He brought me to the Batcave, and then to his house. I've been here all day, but I was asleep, which is why I didn't call you before so you wouldn't worry." Richie paused to catch his breath. "Anyways, there are a lot of things I have to tell you, but I wanted to apologize first for scaring you."
Richie sounded so… healthy was the only word Virgil could come up with. He sounded better than he had in weeks… Maybe since before Backpack. Whatever Batman did for him, I'll have to thank him. "It's okay, Rich; I'm just glad you're all right. So… does that mean you've met him in person? You know, the face he doesn't show the public?"
Richie laughed. "No, not yet. Tell you the truth, V, I'm just so glad to be whole again that I don't care if he's Mary Queen of Scotts."
Virgil snickered. "Well, he's not her, but he is rich."
"Yeah. I'm standing in his house. I've kinda figured that out. Any more questions before I plunge in?"
"Not yet. I'm sure I'll think of more."
Richie launched into a story the likes of which Virgil had only encountered on sci-fi movies and in comic books. The only differences between the story Richie told Virgil and the one he'd told Batman were its beginning and end. The beginning ran this way:
"V, before I forget again, I have to tell you two things that I should have told you a long time ago. First, my dad has been hitting me for as long as I can remember. I was so shocked to find out that you and your pops got along. Maybe that's why I gravitated to your parents: they were so amazing compared to mine. I told you that I once asked your moms if she could adopt me. I asked because I wanted to be in a family where the biggest problem was a brother and sister throwing food and words at each other.
"That's the first thing. Second, I wanted you to know that Dad has been a member of the KKK since I was about six or so. He started attending meetings alone, but when we moved to Dakota the group he was with told him that his family needed to share in the "good news"."
Richie's voice was so thick with sarcasm that Virgil could barely understand him.
"I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid you would stop being my friend if you knew I was around people like that once a week."
"Rich, I would never-" Except he had. Hadn't he freaked out when Richie's dad had said something against his 'kind'? "I'm so sorry, Rich. I promise I'll stop jumping o conclusions and freaking out no matter what your dad says. I'm glad you told me."
"I love you, V."
"Back atcha, Richie."
Richie told the story much as he had to Batman, ending with, "Batman put the two halves of my personality back together earlier today, or maybe it was still last night. I don't know; I was asleep. I feel better than I have in a long time. I forgot what it was like to feel relaxed. I was so busy convincing myself that I was fine being two people that I didn't understand how messed up I'd gotten."
"Richie… Rich, if that 's you messed up, you're amazing. I… well, I knew something was wrong, but I never would have guessed that."
"You knew?"
"You haven't healed since B… since then. Between that and your dad, I was scared for you."
Richie laughed a little; it was an embarrassed and touched sound. "Virg, I'm so lucky to have you."
"And you've always got my back, Rich. I'm lucky to have you, too."
Richie cleared his throat. "I want to tell you about BP… something's up with him or might be, but I want to talk to sleep on it first. I'm not sure what's going on yet. Will you check on him for me? Don't tell him I'm worried about him; just hang around with him. Really listen to the answers he gives."
"What do you think is wrong?"
"I have no clue. And I'm not sure if it's just my imagination. But I want to think about it first, and I need you to be completely objective about this. I won't even tell you my thoughts until you've listened to him. I need your-" he snickered- "virgin ears that have been unsoiled by my speculations."
Virgil blushed. "Okay, Rich; can do. But make you tell me after I give my report, okay?"
"It's a promise."
Virgil's mind was completely taken up with thoughts of Richie, and for a moment he forgot where he was. "I love you, Richie."
Richie gasped. "V, I thought-"
Virgil turned around, meeting the shocked eyes of his pops. Shit. "Uh, Rich, I've gotta go."
"I love you, too, Virg. Bye."
"Bye."
Virgil hung up the phone. "Heh…. Hi, Pops. Didn't know you were still here."
For those who responded to Telling Tales:
Dimitri Aidan: Don't worry about not wanting to finish something. I left the end of Stephen King's The Dark Tower series unread for nine months, and only read it because one of my family members reassured me that it wasn't "really" an ending in the true sense of the word. Also, silly smiles, gasps and other outpourings of emotion are what reading stories is all about. Without them, why would we read? Actually about the homework thing: I'm on spring break, which is the only reason I was able to write this bit.
For those who responded to The Miracle of Three:
Tristripe: I can't help torturing Richie… It's like this: the more I torture him, the more I discover that he's stronger than anything I can throw at him. Virgil, though… I'm worried about him… And BP, too…
Chaosdreamer: Hmm…. Not sure about the Hotstreak as big brother thing. I'll let you know when I figure out what's going on in Hotstreak's mind.
BH: Are you the "soon-to-be-famous Gracie"? Just curious, because I didn't know I'd confused anybody else. Remember that the future that Richie dreamed was Brainiac-induced. It was never real, even though maybe sometimes Richie wishes all bu the end had really happened.
leev: Speaking as a Christian who's been in both kinds of churches- the psycho kind and the helpful kind- I didn't want to leave out any of my fellow worshipers, especially the good ones.