Author's note: I am an extremely slow writer. I just want any reader who might be waiting for this story to be finished to know that I'm working on it. My intention was to present the whole thing at once, but it'll be months until it's done. When I'm writing I hop all over the place and peice it together when all the important parts are finished, so it's hard to post a chapter at a time.
Anyway... this chapter is complete (I hope) and I thought posting it might be a good idea because: a. there is a possibility I could croak of old age before the whole thing is done and no one would get to read what is done. b. if you're like me, always looking for updates on unfinished stories, you maybe would appreciate this offering.
Please feel free to offer any feedback. I want to improve my word skills as much as any writer would.
Thanks for your patience.
STUMBLING TOWARDS DESTINY
Part Two
Down these streets I've walked alone/ As if my feet were not my own / such is the path I've chose/ doors I have opened and closed/ I'm tired of living this life / fooling myself// /this world bound in chains that we live in///Where's your conviction of the heart/ /////Kenny Loggins
------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------
What do you want McGinnis? What do you want? Where's the conviction gone? Where is everything I once believed in? What do I do now? Where are the dreams and promises I once cherished and lived by?
WHO AM I?!!!!
***********************************
The dream again. Always the same dream. Max in all her etheral beauty standing before me- beckoning me with her eyes. And ghostly behind her is the shape of Batman. He moves as she moves. They move as one, yet she does not seem to know what is behind her. She keeps calling me without words, her body's sensuous curves moving, undulating, arms stretched towards me, long tapered fingers reaching as if to grab me.
The silhouetted, almost transparent figure behind her stops and settles crossed arms on his chest, pointy-eared head tilted to one side, legs set wide in a waiting stance while her movements become less graceful, more desperate. She begins to cry, her full lips pull downwards in sadness, arms still reaching for me.
I cannot move. I know I am there, but I cannot move. My body strains towards her, wanting to go to her- comfort her, but it is like I am a rock. Carved from the rock cliffs that the Wayne mansion sits atop- from the stalagmites that stand in the coldness of the batcave. My arms, my legs, my head, any moving body part is immobile, unable to separate itself from the rock that makes me what I am.
Her silent despair comes across so clear and strong that it tears me inside. I try harder to break free, wild with a growing madness to close the distance, to touch her.
Behind her Batman flows towards her, fluid arms wrap around her, enfold her tight in his embrace while she struggles to break free. He is sucking her in, devouring her in his shadowed darkness. She begins to disappear and I know with an unknowable certainty that she will be lost to me forever. That thought frightens me more than any known memory. The silence is deafening with a sense of desolation. She is almost gone now and I scream in anguished protest knowing I will not be heard and that it will not stop Max from disappearing......
"Terry!" A harsh voice growled, pulling me from my nightmare. "Snap out of it. Terry!"
Return to reality was wrought by a sudden plunge upward and the sound of someone's heavy breathing. Mine. I was sucking in gigantic gulps of air as if having climbed twenty flights of stairs without stopping. Heat flushed my body. Sweat ran in rivulets down my face and armpits. My eyes snapped open to see the old man staring at me with a pained, impatient look. I felt him release the grip he had digging into my shoulder as he straightened his bent position beside the bed.
He had a two-handed grip on his cane, leaning against it for balance while watching me with that peircing gaze of his. My hand shook when I raised it to wipe the sting of sweat from my eyes. I swallowed, my throat having a raw, parched feeling to it as if--
"Was I being noisy again?" I murmured thickly, embarrassed,already knowing what the answer would be.
"Luckily Ace decided not to join in this time." Bruce replied in chagrin then frowned. "The same dream as the other times?"
I nodded and continued to calm my tensed body.
"You need to talk to someone about this Terry. Dreams have a purpose. This one is demanding you pay attention to it. If you can't figure out what it's trying to tell you on your own then get someone to help you interpret it. I know a couple of therapists that- "
"No." My monotone reply was followed by a swing of my legs to the opposite side of the bed. "I know what it means." Ace was waiting, his cold inquiring nose sending a chill down one hot limb. I cradled the big snout in my hands and let the animal nuzzle against my chest. Who was feeling more comfort from the gesture, I would not bother to guess.
"Do you?" Bruce's question held skepticism.
"Yep. Real simple actually." I twisted around towards him, a partial grin on my face. "Means I gotta stop mixing beer and vodka for a nightcap." He was not amused. With a dismissive grunt he left, the dog immediately following behind. The hall light that had been shining into the bedroom disappeared as the door closed. I sat alone in the darkness, my thoughts mulling over the dream.
What did it mean? That I missed Max? I'd been feeling that regularly since the week after she left the first time. Being with her those few days after the- incident, pretending I didn't want or need her and all but literally kicking her out of the mansion did not make the feeling go away. Actually made me feel worse. Why would she want to stick around with a jerk anyway? Lately I was having a problem tolerating even myself.
Probably had something to do with not being Batman anymore. You think?! Geez McGinnis, sometimes I wonder about you. Just because you decided to give up the one thing in your life that took up every thought and minute of your waking and occasionally, sleeping time for over four years shouldn't make you think that you're a bit screwed up right now does it?
How about guilt? Duh! Another monumental understatement coming from my brilliant mind. Jerk or not, I can't forget the knowledge that Gotham is playing unwilling host to one of the original Batman's most dangerous enemies, who is now more twisted and lunatic than he had ever been before. Unexplained things were happening in the city and he didn't have to guess to know the cause of it. And how about the fact that this creep has under his tight grasp, an innocent young girl coerced into helping him by the threat of harm to her parents.
Guilt? Yeah it's gnawing at my innards in a way being Batman never did. Trying to get lost in my work, attempted denial and even my escalating drinking habit hasn't been any kind of shield against the growing internal hole of pitiful cowardice I'm feeling.
So why not give in? Why not go back to being Batman? Bruce never said a word about it to me, but I know he's waiting for me to do it. Barbara too. Never in words. Just a feeling... and the way they never talk about it at all. I don't know. I don't know anything for sure anymore.
Maybe if I could talk to someone about all this stuff in my head. Someone who knows about me and who I don't have to hide things from. Someone like.... Max.
Why do I think Max is the answer to all my problems? Why am I so fixated on her? There are plenty of other beautiful, interesting women who've shown signs of wanting to know me better.
Maybe because, unlike them, she's never been swayed by my looks or position beside one of the most reknowned men in this part of the world. When I was with her I could be Terry McGinnis - human being. She's the only person I could relax around and not have to put on a show as Bruce Wayne's associate or make excuses for the necessary departures of my alter-ego.
Listen to me going on and on about her... like she was perfect or something. She has plenty of character flaws like the rest of us. Opinionated, stubborn and I know the strong will she posesses sometimes made even Bruce throw up his hands and give in.
Stop kidding yourself McGinnis. You know why.
Yeah.... probably because ... she believed in me.
Man, I miss being able to talk to her!
Forget Max. I can always talk to Tim. He wants me to talk. Constantly bringing up the subject. Going out of his way to ask how I am and suggesting that talking about what happened would help me and how he knows what I'm going through and he wants to help if he can.
Thing is... I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget.
***********************
Though Terry continued to try denying the truths, the logic, the things he knew were occurring all around him, there were moments of time when his mind wandered away from his determined pursuit of WayneTech business into thoughts he preferred not to dwell on.
Triggers that sent his mind down myraid paths were numerous and varied. Like remembering the snatch of a newscast he heard before pointedly tuning it out. News that reported on some criminal investigation dealing with names Batman was familiar with. Or a report on the crime wave that was hitting Gotham and was being blamed partially on the mysterious disappearance of Batman.
There were the distant nagging thoughts that never entirely went away. The wondering about Tamara and her parents. And thoughts that led to the memory of Al Ghul who he had sworn to bring to justice and what effect the freak was having on the city. And there was no escape from thoughts of Max when every woman he dealt with on a daily basis compelled him to compare them with her. After years of working together it had gotten to where she sometimes knew what he was thinking before he did. She really had spoiled him.
Physically feeling good, having healed completely and posessing an abundance of energy he had not experienced in years was also a trigger to pull his mind into unwanted places. Sitting at a desk or in endless meetings all day did not use up more than a fraction of the strength that bubbled beneath his skin, longing for release. Exercise helped. The regular grueling workouts he pursued sometimes even left him exhausted enough that he managed to sleep a whole night through.
Another trigger was simply walking out into the night, feeling the cool air against his skin, hearing the familiar sounds of the city descending into its evening routine and remembering how it was to fly....
All the inner turmoil and restlessness was having an, understandably, negative effect on him, which in turn had a similar effect on anyone he had to deal with.
******
Bruce did not need to hear the gossip to know that Terry's reputation at the office had changed. He witnessed it in occasional daily interactions between his young apprentice and the office personnel. Instead of being known as that gregarious, studious, respectful young executive of Mr Wayne's he is now regarded as WayneTech's most insensitive, bluntly spoken, no-nonsense-minded, pieces-of-work.
In the last five weeks he had gone through personal secretaries like a chain smoker goes through cigarettes. The average candidate for McGinnis secretary lasted approximately two and one half days. Each had left the young man's office either crying or fuming . There had been one male secretarial candidate. He left running, a frightened expression on his face.
Bruce had finally decided to take on the task of finding Terry a suitable candidate himself.
Anyway... this chapter is complete (I hope) and I thought posting it might be a good idea because: a. there is a possibility I could croak of old age before the whole thing is done and no one would get to read what is done. b. if you're like me, always looking for updates on unfinished stories, you maybe would appreciate this offering.
Please feel free to offer any feedback. I want to improve my word skills as much as any writer would.
Thanks for your patience.
STUMBLING TOWARDS DESTINY
Part Two
Down these streets I've walked alone/ As if my feet were not my own / such is the path I've chose/ doors I have opened and closed/ I'm tired of living this life / fooling myself// /this world bound in chains that we live in///Where's your conviction of the heart/ /////Kenny Loggins
------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------
What do you want McGinnis? What do you want? Where's the conviction gone? Where is everything I once believed in? What do I do now? Where are the dreams and promises I once cherished and lived by?
WHO AM I?!!!!
***********************************
The dream again. Always the same dream. Max in all her etheral beauty standing before me- beckoning me with her eyes. And ghostly behind her is the shape of Batman. He moves as she moves. They move as one, yet she does not seem to know what is behind her. She keeps calling me without words, her body's sensuous curves moving, undulating, arms stretched towards me, long tapered fingers reaching as if to grab me.
The silhouetted, almost transparent figure behind her stops and settles crossed arms on his chest, pointy-eared head tilted to one side, legs set wide in a waiting stance while her movements become less graceful, more desperate. She begins to cry, her full lips pull downwards in sadness, arms still reaching for me.
I cannot move. I know I am there, but I cannot move. My body strains towards her, wanting to go to her- comfort her, but it is like I am a rock. Carved from the rock cliffs that the Wayne mansion sits atop- from the stalagmites that stand in the coldness of the batcave. My arms, my legs, my head, any moving body part is immobile, unable to separate itself from the rock that makes me what I am.
Her silent despair comes across so clear and strong that it tears me inside. I try harder to break free, wild with a growing madness to close the distance, to touch her.
Behind her Batman flows towards her, fluid arms wrap around her, enfold her tight in his embrace while she struggles to break free. He is sucking her in, devouring her in his shadowed darkness. She begins to disappear and I know with an unknowable certainty that she will be lost to me forever. That thought frightens me more than any known memory. The silence is deafening with a sense of desolation. She is almost gone now and I scream in anguished protest knowing I will not be heard and that it will not stop Max from disappearing......
"Terry!" A harsh voice growled, pulling me from my nightmare. "Snap out of it. Terry!"
Return to reality was wrought by a sudden plunge upward and the sound of someone's heavy breathing. Mine. I was sucking in gigantic gulps of air as if having climbed twenty flights of stairs without stopping. Heat flushed my body. Sweat ran in rivulets down my face and armpits. My eyes snapped open to see the old man staring at me with a pained, impatient look. I felt him release the grip he had digging into my shoulder as he straightened his bent position beside the bed.
He had a two-handed grip on his cane, leaning against it for balance while watching me with that peircing gaze of his. My hand shook when I raised it to wipe the sting of sweat from my eyes. I swallowed, my throat having a raw, parched feeling to it as if--
"Was I being noisy again?" I murmured thickly, embarrassed,already knowing what the answer would be.
"Luckily Ace decided not to join in this time." Bruce replied in chagrin then frowned. "The same dream as the other times?"
I nodded and continued to calm my tensed body.
"You need to talk to someone about this Terry. Dreams have a purpose. This one is demanding you pay attention to it. If you can't figure out what it's trying to tell you on your own then get someone to help you interpret it. I know a couple of therapists that- "
"No." My monotone reply was followed by a swing of my legs to the opposite side of the bed. "I know what it means." Ace was waiting, his cold inquiring nose sending a chill down one hot limb. I cradled the big snout in my hands and let the animal nuzzle against my chest. Who was feeling more comfort from the gesture, I would not bother to guess.
"Do you?" Bruce's question held skepticism.
"Yep. Real simple actually." I twisted around towards him, a partial grin on my face. "Means I gotta stop mixing beer and vodka for a nightcap." He was not amused. With a dismissive grunt he left, the dog immediately following behind. The hall light that had been shining into the bedroom disappeared as the door closed. I sat alone in the darkness, my thoughts mulling over the dream.
What did it mean? That I missed Max? I'd been feeling that regularly since the week after she left the first time. Being with her those few days after the- incident, pretending I didn't want or need her and all but literally kicking her out of the mansion did not make the feeling go away. Actually made me feel worse. Why would she want to stick around with a jerk anyway? Lately I was having a problem tolerating even myself.
Probably had something to do with not being Batman anymore. You think?! Geez McGinnis, sometimes I wonder about you. Just because you decided to give up the one thing in your life that took up every thought and minute of your waking and occasionally, sleeping time for over four years shouldn't make you think that you're a bit screwed up right now does it?
How about guilt? Duh! Another monumental understatement coming from my brilliant mind. Jerk or not, I can't forget the knowledge that Gotham is playing unwilling host to one of the original Batman's most dangerous enemies, who is now more twisted and lunatic than he had ever been before. Unexplained things were happening in the city and he didn't have to guess to know the cause of it. And how about the fact that this creep has under his tight grasp, an innocent young girl coerced into helping him by the threat of harm to her parents.
Guilt? Yeah it's gnawing at my innards in a way being Batman never did. Trying to get lost in my work, attempted denial and even my escalating drinking habit hasn't been any kind of shield against the growing internal hole of pitiful cowardice I'm feeling.
So why not give in? Why not go back to being Batman? Bruce never said a word about it to me, but I know he's waiting for me to do it. Barbara too. Never in words. Just a feeling... and the way they never talk about it at all. I don't know. I don't know anything for sure anymore.
Maybe if I could talk to someone about all this stuff in my head. Someone who knows about me and who I don't have to hide things from. Someone like.... Max.
Why do I think Max is the answer to all my problems? Why am I so fixated on her? There are plenty of other beautiful, interesting women who've shown signs of wanting to know me better.
Maybe because, unlike them, she's never been swayed by my looks or position beside one of the most reknowned men in this part of the world. When I was with her I could be Terry McGinnis - human being. She's the only person I could relax around and not have to put on a show as Bruce Wayne's associate or make excuses for the necessary departures of my alter-ego.
Listen to me going on and on about her... like she was perfect or something. She has plenty of character flaws like the rest of us. Opinionated, stubborn and I know the strong will she posesses sometimes made even Bruce throw up his hands and give in.
Stop kidding yourself McGinnis. You know why.
Yeah.... probably because ... she believed in me.
Man, I miss being able to talk to her!
Forget Max. I can always talk to Tim. He wants me to talk. Constantly bringing up the subject. Going out of his way to ask how I am and suggesting that talking about what happened would help me and how he knows what I'm going through and he wants to help if he can.
Thing is... I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget.
***********************
Though Terry continued to try denying the truths, the logic, the things he knew were occurring all around him, there were moments of time when his mind wandered away from his determined pursuit of WayneTech business into thoughts he preferred not to dwell on.
Triggers that sent his mind down myraid paths were numerous and varied. Like remembering the snatch of a newscast he heard before pointedly tuning it out. News that reported on some criminal investigation dealing with names Batman was familiar with. Or a report on the crime wave that was hitting Gotham and was being blamed partially on the mysterious disappearance of Batman.
There were the distant nagging thoughts that never entirely went away. The wondering about Tamara and her parents. And thoughts that led to the memory of Al Ghul who he had sworn to bring to justice and what effect the freak was having on the city. And there was no escape from thoughts of Max when every woman he dealt with on a daily basis compelled him to compare them with her. After years of working together it had gotten to where she sometimes knew what he was thinking before he did. She really had spoiled him.
Physically feeling good, having healed completely and posessing an abundance of energy he had not experienced in years was also a trigger to pull his mind into unwanted places. Sitting at a desk or in endless meetings all day did not use up more than a fraction of the strength that bubbled beneath his skin, longing for release. Exercise helped. The regular grueling workouts he pursued sometimes even left him exhausted enough that he managed to sleep a whole night through.
Another trigger was simply walking out into the night, feeling the cool air against his skin, hearing the familiar sounds of the city descending into its evening routine and remembering how it was to fly....
All the inner turmoil and restlessness was having an, understandably, negative effect on him, which in turn had a similar effect on anyone he had to deal with.
******
Bruce did not need to hear the gossip to know that Terry's reputation at the office had changed. He witnessed it in occasional daily interactions between his young apprentice and the office personnel. Instead of being known as that gregarious, studious, respectful young executive of Mr Wayne's he is now regarded as WayneTech's most insensitive, bluntly spoken, no-nonsense-minded, pieces-of-work.
In the last five weeks he had gone through personal secretaries like a chain smoker goes through cigarettes. The average candidate for McGinnis secretary lasted approximately two and one half days. Each had left the young man's office either crying or fuming . There had been one male secretarial candidate. He left running, a frightened expression on his face.
Bruce had finally decided to take on the task of finding Terry a suitable candidate himself.