A/N) Technically this belongs in an X-over section, probably.

But I never get much feedback from X-overs so – I hope it'll still be ok if I post it in Batman section. Because this is technically Batman.

This is Terry McGinnis centric, I never wrote for him. I probably failed at him. But I was feeling like writing something with nostalgic feels. And this is what I got so far.

Also, I never read anything about Terry McGinnis or Batman Beyond, I spun this off of the old 90's animated series and even that I haven't seen in years, so - yah. Not accurate to whatever happened in comics at all. Which is actually ironic considering how I wrote this piece. Anyway.

This might end up a series. We'll see.

Motivation is your Superpower.


"You're not Batman."

Those words still stung in the center of his chest. He didn't like to hear them then and he hated how they continued to echo in his head now, even as he zips through the dark back ally streets of old Gotham, cold rain drops pelt through his leather jacket and make mini splashes on his helmet's face shield. The words repeat. Ring in his head, his eyes narrow against the glare of the holo-boards that advertise falsities as they flash by him in blues and reds.

"You're not Batman." The words were cold. The man that had said them, even colder.

Terry didn't understand how someone that brought so much hope to this city for generations could be so out of hope himself. So he's not the same kind of person - that doesn't mean he can't be a good Batman. He could - if that old man would just let him. He'd made one mistake. One. Just one little slip up in a Joker gang operation and the Original B-man had gone ballistic.

Also he took the Bat suit without consent but still –

He was doing great as Batman up until that point.

But Old man Bruce didn't care to see the positives. He only cared because his Batman suit was taken and he hadn't given permission.

"You're not Batman." The rest of the words Bruce wanted to say but he didn't rang out in the silence. Terry heard them anyway. Loud and clear. "You're not Batman." And you never will be.

Well.

Screw that.

Terry has his own feeling and opinions on that. He became Batman to make himself better, to give himself purpose and help others, to become something more than a loser teenager with loser problems and a loser personality.

So, for a hundred-year-old, give or take, wash up to stand there and tell him he can't be something better. He can't be Batman- Terry wasn't going to take it lying down.

So he didn't.

He went and did what he thinks any good future Batman should be doing when faced with a confusing problem. He went hunting for answers. He found them, sort of, he'd like to think, in the back of the Bat-cave, in some old dusty corner, way, way, in the back where the old man seemed to want to lock up everything he's ever lived through.

And he found something.

Pictures. Hundreds of them. Belongings, not Bruce's, they couldn't be, too out of character for him. Old computer consoles, a red beat up, scratched, motor bike, the thing was antique machinery. Some weird looking fabric, shimmery, stretchy, and blue, he thinks it might have been an early version of what costumes where made of. Some yellow bent out of shape nick knacks, a beat up 'R' symbol, a dinged silver tray thing, some chewed worn blades, an ancient thing, he remembers in a history class, was called a camera, for picture taking, and a bunch of clothes that were definitely out of fashion and out of date. But they belonged to somebody. A few somebodies, younger than Bruce, growing up, somebodies.

But the pictures.

Terry never thought he'd see something as historic as those old printed pictures.

Say what he will about the old man. That guy was sentimental as anything and a pack rat. Terry's actually grateful for it in that moment. The pictures were his answer though. Who Batman was before he was . . . well, before now. Before, when he had a reason to live that was more than his war on crime. More than his cold cave and his dog. More than just glaring at poor insignificant Terry McGinnis.

Pictures of a smiling boy with long bangs and it struck Terry that this might be Robin - the original Robin. It had to be him. Batman hadn't had a Robin in - nearly forty years. People forgot about him unless they were Batman historian's and even then. Kids only heard stories about Robin, the boy wonder, now.

But this kid wasn't Robin in the pictures. No, he was bright eyed and smiling and in old styled clothes.

Bruce was in them and something about young Bruce's face when this kid was sitting next to him or laughing or just being present.

Terry feels an odd pinch in his gut.

This kid meant something to Young Bruce. He can see the odd quirk to the man's lips, there's something in his eyes that Bruce doesn't have anymore. A light. A twinkle. Happiness, on a suppressed scale but, it's still there. It was there.

Terry's eyes scan the photos. Someone had a good hand in taking them. Terry wonders who they were. The years span through the pictures diligently - this kid - Dick Grayson - The names of the people were written with the date under the pictures. He gets older - then a red haired girl starts popping up in them and the pictures get decidedly more mischievous.

She looks smart, quick eyed, and not about to take any crap from anyone - Barbara Gordon.

Terry wants to slap himself for taking more than a second to realize that. Barbara Gordon, the commissioner. The original Batgirl.

He can't believe he didn't see it at first. Because she was smiling and her eyes were bright and she looked ready to save the world with Dick Grayson and maybe Bruce. Also some pictures alluded to a less familial connection with Dick Grayson and her. A game maybe - she didn't seem the type to give into a flirting guy easily.

Then something happens.

The pictures get less frequent.

Bruce doesn't look happy in most of them - like his eyes have lost that light and they don't want to remember it. A couple of pictures are with older, collage grade, Barbara. She was stunning in her day.

There is a huge time gap from the last picture to when they start up again.

A picture of a scrawny boy with scars on his face and eyes that seemed to burn through the frames with suspicion and fears. He's frowning in the first few pictures, scowling even, hair a wild unkempt mess. Jason Todd - age ten.

Jason Todd? Terry's brows scrunch together as he flips through more and more images of this kid. Another Robin? There must have been more, that would make sense since Robin was a kid for so long. There's pictures with the kid alone, mostly angry, ready to lash out, Terry reads the line of his shoulders. He is not a Dick Grayson.

Bruce starts appearing in some of the pictures. The kid gets less and less tense looking. His eyes soften, never loosing that dark edge but - Terry sees it there too. The affection and light in Bruce's eyes when he looks at the kid. The kid does the same thing - they do it when the other isn't looking. A few pictures are candid - not posed for mostly.

There's a couple with the old antique bike.

Jason Todd gets older, he has more wounds on him as the years go by, the scowl is still there, but it's mostly a dry smirk than anything. A few have Barbara in them and he seems to enjoy her company at least. Dick Grayson is in, maybe, two of them.

Terry gets the feeling that Bruce's' sadness must have had something to do with the first Robin's dwindling presence.

Then the Pictures end again.

Only this time - they end when Jason Todd is only sixteen.

Terry doesn't know what happened to him - because the next picture dates three years later and it's of a skinny, small framed kid with too much hair and large blue eyes looking, for anything, really out of place. And he has a heavy camera around his own neck. Timothy Drake. Terry assumes this is the next Robin at least.

Either that, or Bruce just had a thing for taking in lost boys with dark hair and blue eyes.

At first, the pictures are scarce and mostly of the small child, then they start up nearly every other day - Dick Grayson is in almost all of them, the kid gets older, slightly taller, Bruce is in more later - then the kid is in and out, there's an old man now - Alfred Pennyworth. He shows up more throughout the pictures, a prim, tall, slender man that ages well, with kind eyes and a firm face.

Terry can imagine the comfort this man must have given to those around him. He looks like he would have been a great grandfather.

Barbara starts appearing in them again - Only she's in a wheel chair. Terry feels the shock go through him when he sees it. She was walking now obviously but - she was in a wheel chair, her legs immobile and she looked older with shorter hair, eyes darker than before, smile tighter than before. An early version of her severe self now.

But even still, everyone looks much happier in these pictures and closer than ever, Terry surmises Dick Grayson and Barbara were dating at this point, if their smiles and hand holding was anything to go by, but there's still something lacking - Bruce never really smiles anymore. He looks like he's aged ten years since his last pictures.

Could it have something to do with Jason Todd? He wasn't in any of these pictures.

Then another girl appears. Her name was written as Cassandra Cain

She was young, of East-Asian descent, and she exuded calm and quiet. Her dark eyes stared into the camera with curious studying and Terry wonders if she could see him through it. She's in and out of the pictures with Alfred Pennyworth and Bruce - she seemed awfully close to Bruce, the way she sat next to him with rapt attention. Pictures of her reading with Timothy Drake. Or eating confectioner messes with Dick Grayson who - despite his more somber appearance in earlier pictures with Tim Drake - seemed to have lightened up considerably.

Cassandra also had many pictures with Barbara. She'd be standing beside the red head, holding a new costume, she must have become the new batgirl, or listening to what the older woman was trying to tell her wether it was on a computer screen or in a book.

Suddenly, a Blond girl, Stephanie Brown, appears out of nowhere. Pictures with her are jumbled and always explosive. She's often with Cassandra and Barbara smiling, bright and blue eyed. Tim Drake was with her a few times. Alfred appeared often. She seemed like a vibrant whirlwind and contrasted the others drastically.

Terry flipped through the pictures and found she might have become a batgirl too. Cassandra must have moved on to something else. Like Dick Grayson had.

Then a small boy, with a fierce scowl, two sharp blades gripped in his small hands, and a cutting glare that felt very familiar for some reason, appears.

Damian Wayne, age ten.

Terry blinks. Damian Wayne? Did that mean Bruce married or - He doesn't want to think about where this one came from. Bruce got tired of picking up random kids and decided to have his own. Right.

He honestly wouldn't put it past the old man.

The kid is surly and angry and - if he was Bruce's biological child - that would explain the resemblance in his glare.

Then Bruce stops appearing in pictures altogether. Cassandra is in fewer and Tim seems to be frowning in most, that large eyed youth has dwindled, he looks tired most of the time. Barbara doesn't show up as much either. Stephanie Brown pops in a few but never with Tim Drake. Damian isn't in too many. Dick is in almost all of them. His previous lightness is still there, just muted.

Terry isn't sure, but he gets the vibe that something must have happened to Bruce at this time. Because the man isn't in the pictures and the rest of the people appear in random intervals. Barbara isn't in most with Dick, and Tim just isn't in any with Damian. Stephanie is in a few, squishing or making fun of Damian's scowling face, and the small boy just seems on edge and angry with everything.

His demeanor calms as the year goes through and Terry finds a few with Tim and Damian and Stephanie in later months. Then in one, Bruce appears.

They're all there for that one. Even the ones who seem to be avoiding each other. Even Alfred. Must have been a self-shooting photo.

Terry wonders, not for the first time, what happened to Jason Todd.

The years dwindle through, they come and go and often times the pictures just show what they've all been through more than anything. Terry becomes engrossed in reading the invisible lines. The relationships, the actions. Bruce grows older as the years go by, animals start making an appearance, like a cat and Dog, one has a cow in it, then - Jason Todd appears.

Something about having him in the pictures again startles Terry - also, looking at him, he doesn't feel the same. He's smirking though. But his eyes are heavy, dark, broken. Barbara's out of her wheel chair eventually and most of the pictures are of Dick and Damian. Tim and Jason occasionally make appearances again and there is only about three when Jason is next to Bruce. Mostly, he stands beside Alfred, or is with the older man at all.

Then the pictures started dropping again. Less and less are taken. Fewer people are in them. Slowly, Cassandra fades until she doesn't show up at all. Barbara is scarcer, her red hair silvering, Dick is still in a few. Tim is too, his face grows bleaker. Damian appears more agitated the older he's getting. Then Jason all but disappears again. Alfred has one but he's in the hospital. Bruce stands next to him. Both old - gray or greying. Terry sees the forced smile on both of them. Bruce isn't in any more.

Pictures skip time. Stephanie is gone too. Barbara isn't there anymore and Dick's last one was when he was smiling, eyes with wrinkles around them and waving at Damian as he heads for a car. Damian looks about twenty-somthing when the final picture was taken and then - no more. Whatever happened afterwards . . .

Terry will probably never know.

The thunder rolls over head, bringing him out of his thoughts, drowning out the whirling of his bikes tires as he screeches to halt at the edges of the city lines.

'You are now leaving Gotham' 'aka Hell' is Spray painted in colors and ugly red smiles on the official sign. It's an ancient sign. Terry doesn't know why they still have it out here. Nobody has signs made of metal anymore. Gotham was known for its obsession with holding on to things. Must be why Bruce is like this, it's probably from long term exposure to the city.

He stares at the sign. The sky flashes beyond it - daring him to cross. Daring him to leave.

"You're not Batman."

Then who the hell can he be?

He can't do anything other than try and become Batman. He went through Batman's life in snippets of people he grew old with, people he loved, people he cared about. Terry saw who Batman was. He sees who he became. Life weighs people down. It has tried to crush Bruce. But he's still here, everyone is gone except him. Terry doesn't understand why Bruce is so determine to push him away, to keep away the role of Batman - to take away Terry's hope when the old man barely has any hope left in himself. At least let someone else give Batman hope again.

He pulls off his helmet, the rain prickles on his scalp, dripping down his face as he lets out puffs of air, fingers clenching the handles of his bike.

"You're not Batman."

He grits his teeth.

You're not Batman.

He squeezes his eyes shut against the bubbling disappointment.

You're not Batman.

He's not. But why can't he try to be?

You're not -

Then his heart stutters. His shoulders drop and he stares at the bleak horizon out of Gotham, turns his head back and sees the lights of the city he's trying to leave.

"I'm not Bruce Wayne." He says to himself and the rolling thunder overhead. "I'm not Bruce Wayne." That doesn't mean he can't be Batman. Bruce knows how hard it is, he knows how much he's had to suffer because he's Batman - he knows . . .

That's it.

That's the answer. That's the final piece of this puzzle. The reason Bruce says the things he says. Does the things he does. The reason he tries to take Batman away from Terry.

Because Batman means sacrifice.

And Bruce isn't ready to let Terry do that. To let anyone else dot that. He doesn't think anyone else can handle that sort of sacrifice.

A grin split his face and he wipes at the wetness, pushing his dark hair back as he slides his helmet back on. Time to go prove to Batman that Terry could be Batman too.

He revs his motor and runs past the sign again.

'You're now entering Gotham.' Good luck, Sucker.

He takes the short cut up the steep mountain trail to get to the dark lonely old fashioned manor, his heart in his ears as he smiles, his realization solidified and real as he makes his way to the drive and screeches to a halt, tossing off his helmet and climbing up the steps.

"Mr. Wayne? Bruce?" He calls, the cold dark corridor empty. Ace comes lumbering in and Terry crouches down.

"Hey buddy, where's your old boss huh?" He asks as Ace sniffs his palm and lets Terry scratch him behind his ears.

"I thought you were leaving." The once rolling booming voice is withered by age, still as dry as ever but - Terry imagines it was way scarier in his heyday.

He stands and looks at the aged man. He sees his legacy, he sees his history, the pictures he spent hours going through, accumulate. Those people, that life time - it made the man before him. No - it made the man before now. This one is what's left. This man is what Batman has left behind. This man is what the sacrifice's Batman made has left behind.

But it doesn't matter.

Batman has a purpose. And Terry wants that purpose. Even if he has to sacrifice so much for it.

"I'm gonna be Batman." Terry says, determine and sure of his reasons and choice.

Bruce's white brow raises as he leans on his sturdy cane. Shoulders hunched as his blue eyes narrow at him, heavy under all the pain and suffering he's been through - the light no longer there like it had been in the pictures - Terry feels sad for him.

"You don't know what being Batman means. Go home McGinnis. Before you regret it." And he turns to leave.

"I know!" Terry cuts, the thunder rumbles outside and lightning flashes making the shadow disappear insides the house for a second.

"What do you know?" Bruce says tiredly. His ire seemed to be rising, but his strength . . .

"I know what you had to sacrifice to be Batman." Terry ventures bravely. He hopes he can get through to the old man or else - he doesn't know what to do next with himself.

"No. You don't. You could never know unless you've lived it. And even then. It takes a hell of a long time to understand."

"Maybe." Terry steps forward as Bruce stands, back turned to him, shoulders hunched, but not moving away. Terry steps again. "Maybe I could, if you could just - show me or tell me or - I want to try to understand Bruce. But if you won't let me how can I - "

"You can't be Batman!"

Terry startles, the air goes thick and silent. Ace whimpers beside Terry before lumbering over to his owner. Bruce's heavy hand lands on the dog's sleek black head and Terry notices how it shakes.

He isn't angry. Or hurt. There's something else here - something Bruce wasn't saying.

"Why not?"

It's the question he should have asked from the beginning.

Judging by the way Bruce's shoulders tense up - it was the right question.

"Because- because . . ." It's difficult, it seems, for Bruce to tell the honest reasons for his words.

Terry wonders if he's always been like this and if so - how did all those in his life deal with it. Maybe he should ask commissioner Gordon some time.

"Because, Batman means sacrifice. Batman can't live a normal life with normal things. Batman needs to be focused, vigilant to the mission. Always to the Mission. The mission always has to comes first - even when it's not for the best." Bruce lets out a slow breath.

"Is that what you did?" Terry ventures. "Give up on important things in your life because - the mission needed to matter more? Is that what happened to all of them?"

Terry sees when Bruce flinches, as if he's reached over and yanked his old heart out of his creaking rib cage. He slowly turns around, eyes dark and mouth set into a deep scowl. "What did you say?"

He isn't going to back down. This man has been sad and miserable for who knows how long and now - now that he's had time to think and regret his past, he doesn't want Terry to do the same thing. That's kind of noble and sort of considerate. But Terry thinks maybe the old man needs to lighten up a little and let a new Batman make new decisions and create a new chapter.

"I said, is that what happened to all of them? To all the people that loved you? You picked the mission over them and that's why you're all alone here. That's why Batman means sacrifice. Because you sacrificed your happiness for the mission." Terry stops, his eyes meet Bruce's and he feels the years of hidden pain and anger vibrating inside the man, elderly or not, Bruce had expressive eyes that hide so much all the time.

But just as quickly as all the pain came resurfacing, the man squashed it back down and resumed his empty glaring.

"You'll never really know." And he turns away from Terry again. "Good bye McGinnis."

And that sounds like Bruce wants it to be the end.

"No, maybe not. But that doesn't mean I can't be Batman anyway."

"Don't you get it yet, boy."

Terry flinches at the sudden sharpness of Bruce's voice as the old man hits the tile with his cane.

"I don't want someone else to end up like me! Alone and bitter, with nothing and nobody to talk to except his dog and a computer. You go, you become something better, you live your life, you don't need Batman to have a purpose, find it somewhere else. Because at the end of everything, when you've grown old, you will have something, it will matter. Batman has nothing but his mission and when he dies - maybe someone else will commit to that sacrifice, maybe not but - he's just a name. A legend, a shadow in the dark." Bruce's eyes glimmer. "And few people can be content with that."

"Are you?"

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"Yah, it kind of does." Terry steps closer and finally reaches out for Bruce's hunched shoulder, grasping it firmly. "Listen Mr. Wayne, you're a hero - you know you are, you've saved lives, you've spent your whole life saving lives and giving up your own. Maybe that gets lonely after a while, but - your life will never be meaningless." He takes a deep breath and sets his jaw. "Mine might be. Batman's isn't. It could never be. So - despite everything. Let me try anyway."

Bruce looks at him. Really looks, his eyes are searching for something, the air is tense and Terry feels his neck hairs prickle, his stomach clenches as if he's waiting for a drop. Like when you're at the top of an amusement park ride and suddenly -

"Fine."

Whatever the old man was looking for, he must have found it.

"You're just like the rest of them. Never accepting what's good for you. " Bruce sighs and shakes his head, poking Terry with his cane and walking away towards the entrance to his cave.

"Yah? Does this mean I can have the mask back and - "

"No. This means I train you before you go out again - because last time you almost killed yourself and - I'll tell you some important historical facts about Batman's' life."

Terry isn't sure what that means but he'll take it. His heart raises as he follows Bruce down into the giant Tech-d out cave, he turns around and fixes Terry with a steady glare.

"Ace, fetch."

The dog rushes off with a happy yip and disappears into a pitch black section of the cave, returning moments later with two metal poles and a heavy looking crate, pushing it over with his head. Bruce reaches down and scratches the dog before opening the crate.

Terry's eyes widen as Bruce takes out one heavy dusty old paper file after another. Each labeled in fading words, names - familiar names.

"Is that - "

Bruce's eyes glint and Terry's startled to find it reminds him of one of the old mans' earlier pictures when he was younger, before everything.

"This - " Bruce lets out a puff of air, dust clouding upwards, "- is the real history of the Batman. And those who helped him remain human."

And maybe - maybe he'll never understand the extent of Bruce's sacrifice, or pain - maybe the old man has a good reason for being edgy and angry - maybe he has a good reason for not wanting someone else to become Batman - maybe. But Terry's hopes that, despite it all, Bruce will believe he could be a better Batman anyway.


This isn't my favorite style of writing. I never really tried it before, the past events merged in with present and stuff. I don't know - I tried to express the life of all our favorite characters through sparse pictures and words, I guess you have to know the DC universe - pre rebooting mostly - to get all what was insinuated.

But if you don't then I guess it might be confusing - but it is confusing to Terry who didn't live through those events and only had random pictures with people he's never met coming and going in them . . . so um -I hope I conveyed at least something of I was going for, which was that . . . basically?

If not - oh well, I tried.

I hope it wasn't too boring though.

Let me know what you thought about it.