Chapter 16

The elevator lift had lowered them into a bunker—spacious, intensely lit, and high-ceilinged. Endless rows of crates and cabinets and tables extended down the middle of the bunker, stacked with military equipment, measuring instruments, and other scientific wizardry. Along the rightwall of the bunker were a series of hangers housing tarp-covered vehicles. Along the leftwall was a bureaucratic setup: neat desks, filing cabinets, large printers, and a gigantic computer monitor mounted to the wall. On the screen was a large map of Gotham with several red highlighted points of interest.

All of this Emma noted with a muted interest. The dreaded focus of her eyes lay at the far-end center of the bunker, where a dozen beds, monitors, IVs, and other sterile instruments made what looked like a hospital wing. The beds were all unoccupied except one. A curtain had been drawn around it, and at the foot of the bed were five people: Talia, Ra's, Alfred, Steve, and her mother.

The party of five stood around the bed with somber expressions—everyone except for Talia, who was standing far enough away to avoid being accounted for as 'one of them.' Talia was in attendance the same way a housecat would watch unfolding events: from a distant high perch, completely uninterested and judgmental.

The fabric of the curtain drawn around the medical bed was thin, and with the overhead lights of the bunker, permitted the vague silhouette of the person laying on the bed—thin, bony, and scrawny. Emma recognized it as William immediately, but for some strange reason, she was still holding onto hope; still believing in a radically unlikely shift in events, like a storm suddenly blowing away, or an explosion that miraculously leaves a soldier unharmed. The party of five heard her coming. Four of them shifted their eyes onto her—relief, recognition, and regret on their faces. But Emma's mother, standing at the edge of bed, watched William's body with unblinking steadiness. It was as if she was deaf and did not hear Emma's footsteps.

"Mom," said Emma, stopping a few feet away at angle that exposed William's feet behind the curtain.

Her mother remained completely unchanged—it really did seem like she was deaf.

Lucius walked past Emma. He came around the medical bed, looking down onto William's reposed body. "How is he? Are the steroids working?"

Steve, ashen-faced and solemn, shook his head. "I don't know. I talked to him, I think he squeezed his hand—Emma, come here."

Her father turned to her, and Emma realized that little David was asleep in his baby bjorn attached to Steve's chest. Little David napped peacefully, with his mouth a little open and his entire body relaxed in the bjorn, completely unaware and unaffected by the group's anxiety.

Steve awkwardly hugged Emma with one arm—it was because of David attached to his chest, Emma knew that, but the hug felt artificial and distant, like Steve no longer loved Emma as his daughter. It was like hugging a stranger, and the weary, sagging quality of Steve's face only added to the impersonal quality of the hug.

"What happened?" said Steve. "We were looking for you last night." He was clearly too tired to be angry—but still he asked with the authority and demandingness of a parent. He expected her to answer honestly.

"I—" Emma looked away from her father. The other members of the party, Ra's and Talia and Alfred, turned their heads like swivels onto her, and they were waiting. She felt the pressure, the spotlighted centerfocus, and with this intensity came a swooping vertigo—another bout of lightheadedness that threatened the acrid smell of pine and bleach.

Alfred came hurriedly around to Emma's side. He very gently took hold of her arm and directed her to a chair away from William's bed. "There, there. She's clearly in bad shape like her brother. Lucius, prepare an IV? Let's get you in a bed, Emma, dear—"

"No, it's okay, Alfred, really," she said, sitting down. Now she was looking up at all of them, and the spotlight sensation intensified. "I don't want to be in a bed. I don't need an IV."

Alfred looked like he wanted to argue; he looked to Steve for support, but Steve dully shook his head. Lucius suddenly appeared with a syringe in his hand. He bent over her.

"No, Lucius, please, I don't want—"

"I'm not giving you anything, Emma," said Lucius calmly. "I need to take some blood, to study whatever it is they put in you."

"Oh," said Emma. She suddenly felt very stupid. "Okay."

"Did they inject Emma as well?" said Diana suddenly from the foot of the bed. Her body stiffened like she had suddenly taken a big gulp of air, like there was a surge of electricity passing through her.

"No," said Lucius. "I don't think so. From what I've gathered, they drugged her with a depressant, possibly an anesthetic. That's why she is so faint."

Diana's stiffness deflated, and with it, her interest in the discussion. Her eyes, her complete attention, had returned to William.

"Roland did this to you?" said Steve. He glanced cautiously at Diana, part worry and party uncertainty for his wife's trance-like rage. "He drugged you last night?"

"No," said Emma. She watched as Lucius injected the syringe—the vial rushed with thick, scarlet blood.

"Well, who then?"

"Six men, on a rooftop," said Emma. Lucius pulled away the syringe and patted her vein with a cloth.

"'Rooftop?' What the hell does that mean, Emma?"

"I—"

Ra's Al Ghul suddenly stepped forward – his boot making a loud, heavy sound on the slate of the bunker. "These men—grey uniforms? Somewhat shabby looking?"

"Y—yes," said Emma, staring a little at Ra's sudden outburst and foresight. "And they wore masks."

Ra's lips curled distastefully, but he said no more.

"Why didn't they kidnap her instead?" said Talia. She clearly asked this of her father, ignoring everyone else. "She's the stronger of the two. The better ally."

"The better question is why Roland hurt them to begin with," muttered Ra's. "He gave us his word he wouldn't—but now that he did, he's burnt his only trump card. And the game has just started."

"Game?" snapped Steve. "This isn't a game, Ra's. My children are in the hospital right now—one of them might die, dammit."

"He isn't going to die—"

"You don't know that!" hissed Steve. He had to keep his voice down with David sleeping at his chest. This, combined with the weariness on Steve's face, gave Steve the air of a hysterical, underslept, over-reacting parent.

Ra's narrowed his eyes, his lips wiggled for a moment—he seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh. "You're right, Mr. Trevor. I apologize."

For a moment there was quiet—Emma, Alfred, and Lucius astounded that Ra's would actually apologize, and Talia retaining her seething, nonverbal judgement with her vicious, slitted eyes.

Alfred put a hand on Emma's shoulder. "Would you like to see him?"

In the rush of everything, Emma completely forgot the reason she was here: to see her brother. Emma quickly, instinctively, looked at the other men in the room—Ra, Steve, Lucius. They all said nothing, but their faces, understanding and solemn, all somewhat spoke of the same tacit agreement: see your brother.

Carefully, hesitantly, Emma stood up out of the chair. She came up on Diana's shoulder, and beyond lay her brother on the bed. What she saw hit her so hard it seemed to separate her soul from her body—an out of body experience, and she saw everything from an outside stranger's perspective. She noted everything with an objective, distant lens:

Head cocked to one side, eyes closed, bruises along his clavicle, and a partially opened mouth gave him the appearance of a found corpse. Swollen, swarthy patches of bruising surrounded his eyes—like messily-drawn racoon eyes. The color of his skin, normally a pale but healthy white, was laced with black, gangrenous lines that ran across her brother's forearms and, she was willing to bet, extended across his entire body. He looked worse than death—beyond it and already decomposing. But the slow rise and fall of his chest told Emma that life clung to her brother. He was still alive.

She supposed she should be crying—but she didn't want to cry. Why wasn't she crying? Her brother was lying, half-dead, and she wasn't crying—what kind of ugly, mean sister would react in such a way? This, and many other errant thoughts, she considered in the same objective, out of body manner. Try as she might, the tears would not come: the shock of seeing him in such a state dried up any watery emotion in her. But what she did feel was ugly guilt—it caught in her throat and would not let her breathe. Vice-grip, choking, throbbing guilt.

Death had coming looking for her little brother, and Emma was not there to head him off. She was the strong one, she was the tough one, and yet, she had failed him, too.

And from this objective, out-of-body perspective, Emma saw that her mother had reached the same conclusion as well.

"Mom," began Emma, but she couldn't speak, the words caught like drying cement in her esophagus. "I—I'm so sorry, If I had known, I would have—"

Diana, again without wavering her gaze, slowly put a hand around Emma's shoulders and pulled her into an embrace. It was a mother's bearhug, and Diana held it long and silently. Emma heard her mother's breathing – loud and ragged and dragging, like a wounded giant.

"You lied to me, Emma," said Diana in the farthest, faintest voice Emma had ever heard. It was like the words echoed out of Diana's chest. "I asked you to watch your brothers, and you lied to me."

The hug tightened, and Emma felt the faintest trembling from her mother. For a split, lurid moment, Emma thought her mother might snap her neck—choke her, suffocate her.

"They took your brother. They took him and I couldn't do anything. And then they took you. They had the both of you."

The hug, already punishing, intensified. Emma was struggling to breathe—but was it the guilt, or the hug?

The heartbeat monitors hooked up beside William beeped steadily, and though each mechanical beep served to reassure them of William's life, the mechanical, unfeelingness of the beeps also reminded Emma that William's soul was no longer independent. His existence depended on an outside force—on machines, on Roland's serum. The brother she had, the son, the police officer, was forever gone.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

"You lied to me," said Diana steadily, calmly. This tranquility only made the worry in Emma's stomach worse. Emma had never heard her mother speak this way—like she was no longer Emma's mother, but an outside person.

The hug vanished. Matter-of-factly: a timer had went off and it was time to end the hug. Diana stood back from the foot of the bed and, speaking calmly, seemed to address the entire room.

"You lied to me, too, Alfred. You told me she was home."

Alfred stiffened, but he did not try to hide nor excuse himself. He had a tired, miserable expression on his face. A helpless resignation.

"And what about you, Steve. Did you know as well?"

Steve, who up to this point was trying to read the expression on Emma and Alfred's faces, suddenly shook his head. "I had no idea, Di."

"I believe you," said Diana. It was unclear who she was talking to – she was not looking at any of them, nor was she looking at William's bed. She was looking at some far off object in the bunker. Some unknown, invisible source of her anger and scorn.

"I'm going to take care of this," said Diana curtly and confidently—how she said this was like she was dealing with a flat tire or a spilled cup of coffee. "And then, after, I'm going to deal with you—all of you."

Emma gulped – what was her mother going to do to her?

Ra's Al Ghul stepped forward. "The worst of it is over, Diana. I understand your—misgivings—but we mustn't do anything rash. We need to work together."

"No, what I need to do is what I should have done at the beginning," said Diana dispassionately. "Strike first—hard and fast. Last time we played by your rules, and it went against every military tactic I know. You cannot wait and let someone prepare their defenses. I will not make that mistake a second time."

"But you are," said Ra's angrily. "You're still thinking about your children—it taints your judgement, makes you predictable. As long as you base your decision making upon the care of your children, you remain vulnerable to Roland's coercion."

"He is not going to threaten my family again," said Diana. Her fist was clenched, and she was trembling. "You can bet your life on that."

Talia suddenly came up beside Ra's. She was sneering. "My father's right – the smart thing would have been to slit young William's throat and bury his body. But he left him alive, and he injected him with his serum. Why? Because he expects you to react the way you are reacting right now. And you're going to get yourself killed."

"We should wait and work together—strike from a position of strength," said Ra's. "Your daughter will likely make a full recovery, and your son's condition will improve quite dramatically. If we wait, we will have a better chance of victory."

"I already told you once, Ra's," said Diana softly, the hostility swimming in her voice like a shark in shallow water. "My children will not be involved."

She gently took William's hand. It was cold, like death. His breathing was ragged but stubborn—the poison run his body was trying to kill him, but he was fighting it. He would fight it until he died. He was a fighter—he was her fighter. She kissed his forehead – his skin sweaty and scabby and tasting sour. Inside that kiss was a promise to him. A mother's promise. She was going to destroy the man who hurt her baby boy.

"I'll need a few things from you, Lucius," said Diana, straightening up from the kiss. "From the applied sciences division."

"Diana," said Lucius slowly. "Maybe we should discuss our options—"

"That was an order, Vice-President," said Diana coldly.

Lucius looked helplessly to Alfred and Emma; to Ra's and Talia; finally to Steve. But no one was going to help him. He sighed and got up from a seat. He gathered his things in a suitcase.

"Steve," said Diana. "I want you to stay in this bunker—all of you. Emma, little David, and Alfred. Stay with William. Don't go outside until this is all over."

"Fish in a barrel," said Talia scathingly, mockingly.

"I agree," said Ra's, although he threw an irritated, displeased look to Talia. "Your family will be vulnerable here."

"This place has more security countermeasures than any other place in the city," said Diana.

"Not exactly true," coughed Lucius. "There is one other place."

Alfred, Lucius, and Diana all exchanged a tacit, underhand look.

"Out of the question," said Diana. "Too many bystanders."

"Oh, and a building full of people has no bystanders?" said Ra's sarcastically.

"They'll be safe here," said Diana flatly. "At least more safe than at the manor."

"I'm not staying in here," said Steve matter-of-factly. He was tousling David's hair fondly. "I'm not going to let a bunch of poorly dressed terrorists ruin our lives, Di. We can't give in."

Diana, very slowly, closed the distance between herself and Steve. She approached with such a hostile intensity that Emma, and perhaps Steve—judging by his uncertain, fearful apprehension, thought Diana was going to punch him.

"I'm not asking you," she said finally. She was staring lovingly in his eyes, but her voice, pleasant with anger and rage, did not sound loving. It sounded like someone who expected to be obeyed.

Steve, quiet for several beats, shook his head. "Di, don't . . ."

Diana turned next to Emma: Emma expected another show of force, but Diana simply gave them a death glare—one that spoke of disappointment, of bitterness, and of discipline to be dolled out at a later time: I'll deal with you later.

Finally, Diana turned onto Ra's and Talia. They were expecting it, and were standing with their hips swung and laxed, more amused than reprimanded.

"I haven't forgotten what you did to my children," said Diana. "When I'm done with Roland, and if you're still here in the city, there will be a reckoning to pay."

Ra's eyes narrowed. "Your son made his own choices, Your Highness. I followed your directives to the letter."

"This never would have happened if you hadn't come to this city. Nobody asked you to involve us in your problems."

Talia let out a sudden snarl of disgust. "This is war, you dumb bitch. Nobody ever wants it to come to their home. Do you think you're the first mother to lose her son to the unjust, amoral sword of war? While you were on that stupid island holding tribal orgies, my father and I spent that time fighting wars that would make a million mothers cry. Your son is still alive. You can hug him and kiss him and spank his behind. You should be grateful for that."

Nobody, as long as Emma could remember, had ever spoken to her mother like that. But Diana, staying within her chosen theme of restrained, cold fury, was expressionless. The thin upturn of her lips could almost be misunderstood as amusement.

Diana made to walk around Talia, but Talia cut her off.

"If you go at Roland alone you're going to get yourself killed," said Talia. "Your friends are right. We need to plan an effective strategy if we're going to bring Roland down. He's smart, he's ruthless, and he's a tough bastard to kill. Trust me—my father and Ihave been trying for years and we've failed. You think you are going to fare any better?"

Diana looked down at Talia. "Get out of my way."

The threat was there and simple: a promised observation; a matter of fact. And Talia, to her credit, looked mad and orgasmic with desire. The luridness was brilliant in Talia's eyes; everyone else in the bunker seemed to shift their bodies away, in apprehension, at the inevitability of the that fight would break out. But slowly, with the air of a taut bowstring slowly unwinding, Talia's relaxed into a distant apathy; she had come to an understanding, a realization.

Talia stepped to the side, and Diana, followed by a resigned Lucius, walked on to the center of the bunker. They came before an elevator hidden as a support column. They pressed a button and stepped inside. Emma caught her mother's expression just before the elevator doors closed: murderous, focused, and completely self-absorbed. Emma did not recognize that woman.

When the elevator doors closed, Talia was still looking in Diana's direction. Talia looked satisfied, superior and smug. She looked back at her father with this expression, and Ra's suddenly appeared pale and defeated.

"So what now?" said Steve suddenly. "We're supposed to live in here for the next few days?"

Alfred shook his head helplessly. "Diana's love may be suffocating, but she isn't wrong. There are more than enough supplies for all of us in this bunker. And the security systems are quite up to date. You'd have to destroy the building to get to us down here."

"But what about David?" said Steve. "Is there baby food down here? Diapers? A crib?"

While Alfred and Steve went away to wrestle things up for the baby, Emma went back to look over William. Looking at him closer now, his lymph nodes were swollen like chicken eggs; a pus draining out of sores along his shoulder, and he smelled fruity like bad morning breath.

Ra's came around to the other side of the bed. He was looking at William.

"Roland has been a user for three years. Your mother and I saw him last night. He was in perfect health."

Emma almost laughed—was this Ra's Al Ghul's bedside manner? Was this his way of expressing sympathy?

"Think of it as a treatable condition," he continued in a voice that was supposed to sound sympathetic, but instead came off as factual. "Like diabetes requiring regular injections."

"But my brother wasn't born with a treatable condition," said Emma angrily. "This isn't some unlucky thing. Somebody did this to him."

"And what are you prepared to do about it?"

This question caught her off-guard. She looked up to find Ra's watching her carefully—not unkindly.

"How did you manage to get yourself caught last night?" he asked.

"I—I made a mistake."

"Obviously," sneered Talia from a nearby stool.

Ra's threw Talia an annoyed look. He turned back to Emma. "What I mean is how did they subdue you? From what I've gathered, you take after your mother's Amazonian gifts. How did they—"

"They had gas masks," said Emma dully. "I thought it was just smoke. A distraction."

"Ah."

His emerald eyes swam all over—scrutiny and consideration, like a gambler watching a spreadsheet. He was carefully weighing something, but he was anxious, greedy.

"If your mother fails, you'll be the last Amazonian in Gotham City, Emma Trevor. The last line of defense. And now, you've seen what those things can do, what Roland can do. Imagine an entire army – what do you think your mother's chances are?"

"And be honest," added Talia from her stool. "We'll know if you're lying."

"Talia, that's enough of your comments."

Emma paused, thinking it over: fighting six of Roland's men was tough enough, but Emma was not a seasoned warrior. For all intents and purposes, that was her first real fight, and she thought she was doing quite well, up until the end. Her mother knew how to fight, had been in fights, she could easily dispatch with six men.

But an entire army of those men? As strong and fast as Emma? That made things a little harder to predict.

"Precisely, Emma Trevor," said Ra's, reading the doubt on her face. "I can see you have a good brain as well. Because we trained Roland, and we trained the Dark Knight. You know this. Surely, you know about him?"

"A little," lied Emma.

Ra's smiled knowingly. "And what have you heard?"

"I've heard stories about him. I'm not sure if they're true but—"

"They are. Even the more ridiculous ones. But go on."

"I've heard that he was amazing. That this city worshipped him."

Ra's moved a little closer, almost leaning over William's body now. "And what has your mother said about him?"

"She said . . ." Emme was not sure if she should answer him. There was something traitorous about revealing what her mother had said about the Bat. And yet, a twinge of fury went through Emma: a bitter, vengeful resentment toward her mother. It was completely unfair. Emma only tried to help because her mother had embarrassed so much in the kitchen. Emma just wanted to prove herself—but nobody wanted to give her the chance. Nobody seemed interested in what Emmawanted.

But this man currently before her, Ra's Al Ghul, did seem interested.

"She said he was the best she ever saw," she said hoarsely.

Ra's nodded approvingly. "And he was only a mortal. A regular man. You, however, are quite gifted. Can you imagine what good you could do if we taught you those skill sets—"

"I think that's enough," said Alfred all of a sudden. He had reappeared with diapers in his hand. "We've nearly lost one Trevor today, Ra's. We are not going to risk another one. And I'm warning you - if Diana ever hears what you just said to Emma, she'll kill you, too."

The manner in which Talia suddenly twitched made it look like she was more than ready to try Alfred's test. But Ra's gracefully relented. He stepped away from William's bedside.

"Of course. It was absurd of me. Emma, my dear, please forget everything I just said. We won't disturb you two anymore."

Ra's and Talia both left towards the same elevator. But Ra's was a clever man, he knew what he was doing. Once an idea takes root, it is impossible to unroot. And Emma, as try as she might, could never forget his words. They itched in her head. And she could not help but scratch them: Ra's Al Ghul saw something in Emma. He believed in her abilities—and it made Emma feel good. She detested how much it delighted her. She knew what Ra's was—a snake, a twisted leader of men. But it didn't change the way his words soothed the wounds caused by her mother, by her family.

And at the elevator, before the doors were about to close, Ra's was watching her. His green eyes were steadily fixed on her – a knowing, tacit look in them. And to her surprise, Emma did not look away.