I should have changed first. Mr. Fusty answered the door and immediately offered to let me freshen up.
I wish I had a fustykins. The closest I ever had was Candy, and as fond as I was of her, she was an underage Italian prostitute whose idea of clean was…well, I don't want to think about it.
She's in the movies now. Legitimate. I'm proud of her. (That first one turned out very giallo. I love it.)
Fusty (whose real name I'd better not use, you know, just in case) provided me with "more suitable clothing" and use of the facilities. B. has very nice shampoo.
He should be back soon.
I forgot how nice it is here. Like a little world outside of it all. I'm sitting in front of a blazing fire. My hair is wet, but I'm toasty warm. The room is comfortable, but with an empty feel to it. This is his home, but he doesn't live here.
He lives out there. Out where he is now.
Batman.
I remember the first time he saved me from the Joker. He reminded me of my father.
He treated me like a daughter when I was here before. Taught me to fly the Batplane.
He's younger than my father, but not young. And all the masks like to take potshots at him. If this crap is hard on me, it must be hell for him. And yet, he does this every night, for no other reason than because it's the right thing to do.
In many ways, I admire the man.
Damn creative differences.
Fusty served me a late supper. Good tea. I do love me a cup of real tea. Only the English really make it right. And the Chinese. God, but they made some good tea in China.
He probably won't be back until dawn. I told Fusty he could go to bed. Even I'm not brazen enough to rob Batman's house.
Maybe F. thinks I can still be trusted. Maybe he's just feeling old. Maybe he's got Ba—that is, Oracle, watching the security camera. I don't know. All I really want to do right now is stay here in the library and read.
--
Damn it, Bats. You would come home the minute I fall asleep in your chair.
I hate getting caught all vulnerable like that.
No telling how long he was there before I woke up. No telling what he read in my posture, my movement, my reaction when I saw him.
"If you needed a place to stay, you could have called first." He was still cowled, but he spoke to me in his human voice.
"I just came to talk."
"You're the one who decided we had nothing to talk about." He didn't sit, so I stood. Realized all over again just how big, how massive, how powerful he really is. Good guy to have on your side. Bad guy to have as an enemy.
"Batman…you look at me and you think you see something worth saving. You're wrong. There's nothing for you to save me from."
"Maybe. Why did you come back here?"
"I just met the Riddler. I'd like some help answering the questions he gave me. Oh, and some weirdo creep called Lock-Up attacked a friend of mine. I thought you should know, he's not with us anymore."
"Lock-Up?"
"Lock-Up." (I almost chuckled.) "A security guard from Arkham, once. He's dead. He deserved it."
Batman gave me this look, like he was sorely disappointed in me.
"Did he?"
I forced a Jokerish laugh.
"Spare me, Batsy. He deserved worse than he got." Batman saw me shivering and reached out to touch me. I pulled away. "I'm not cold, and I don't need your little lecture, okay?"
"Whatever you say." God, I hate it when he pulls this I-don't-really-believe-you crap.
"Look, I just wanted to ask you some questions."
"About?"
"You know what about."
He sighed, looked out the window, sighed again.
"We can talk later. We will talk later. But…"
I followed his gaze. Batsignal.
"It never ends…"
"Never."
"Do you need backup, Bats? I could come with you…for a lark." Not for old time's sake. For the love of God, don't tell him that.
"You're tired. Stay here. You know where the guest room is." Ha. Funny.
"Don't you ever get tired, -----?" This is me using his real name. This is me acting like we're almost real friends.
"People like us can't afford to get tired."
God, I hate it when he does this. Includes me as one of them. Makes me feel like I'm worth something.
Part of the team. I never will be, but he always makes me feel welcome. Just like my father. No matter what I did, I was always his daughter. The only thing that kept me from being a part of the family was my own stupidity.
Hell, I don't belong in this family, and we both know it.
But I do feel safe enough to sleep here. I wonder if he knows what that means.
--
He was at the day job when I woke up this morning. Fusty says he didn't want to wake me. I wonder if he's just avoiding an uncomfortable chat.
Over morning coffee, Fusty and I watched a news report about a man who committed suicide by throwing himself out of the window of his hospital room. I was more interested in my coffee (which the English do not make well) until I heard a familiar name.
"…widow Alexis Murphy refused to comment."
And they showed a clip of Lexy, banged up but looking much better, slamming a door in a reporter's face. Behind her in the room, clearly visible even without his trademark green suit, was dear old Eddie.
Damn it. I'm heading over.
I'm not the only one who watches TV.
Please let me get there before the boss.
--
Oh, God, they're gone. Door kicked in, furniture overturned, bullet holes. Don't see any blood. Maybe they're still alive.
Will Batman help me with this?
Am I really going to go up against the boss?
I don't know what to do.
--
Fuck! Fuck shit fuck!
Wish people wouldn't sneak up on me like that. My heart's still racing.
But I'm thanking God I'm not in this alone.
Scarecrow's here with his two goons—his only two goons. I guess a guy like him doesn't need to employ an army. Not like the Joker, I guess, I guess.
He's enjoying this, watching me prepare to face my greatest fear. But I'm guessing he's scared, too.
--
Okay! Harley's coming with us. Not Ivy. She would only antagonize the Joker, and we can't have that.
We're not strong enough to rush in like Batman, guns a-blazing. We're going to have to negotiate.
Harley should be good for that, if he's in the mood to care about her today. She'll tell him how the four of us came to save her from Lock-Up, and maybe he'll be encouraged to be a little more lenient.
We're on our way, we're on our way. I've felt for years that he was going to be the one to kill me. Maybe today will be the day.
Or maybe he'll be in a forgiving mood. Heh…
Or maybe Bats will show up just in the nick of time. I'm not counting on that. I should have told Fusty why I had to leave.
I can trade myself to save them. I can do it. He might accept it. Maybe. At least I can try. Eddie doesn't deserve to be hurt any more, and Lexy is probably the only really good person I've met in years. She should be saved. She deserves better than whatever the Joker will do to her.
I guess the real question is, what will he do to me?