Disclaimer: I do not own Batman Beyond or any of the referenced story lines or characters therein.

Author's Note: So, life turned out to be a bit more involving and terribly distracting than I initially assumed it would be, and I apologize for the lack of updates. I'm continuing to write, though, and appreciate your patience. :) Here is the chapter I promised so long ago! Again, thank you for your continuing and kind reviews, I always enjoy reading them.

Warp Element

Names (Part 2)

Backtracked

He wasn't exactly sure why he had started running, but when a tall, well-dressed and fit stranger comes striding up to you with grim purpose in their eyes, I'm sure you'd be running too. The man had practically radiated the vibe of 'I'm only acting nice to get near you, and then I'll take you out'. Perhaps that was slightly melodramatic, but the young man still didn't like the feeling that had emanated from this older persona. He didn't know the other guy, but the way he'd stared… the way he'd approached... It seemed like the man knew him. Even so, the stranger wasn't appealing. Hence the running.

People screamed, practically diving out of his way as he weaved and plowed through the crowded sidewalks, moving faster than he had thought possible that he could move. He'd felt quite a bit more capable while wearing the suit, but the fact that he hadn't started tiring yet still surprised him. Briefly, he wondered why he was so well fit and trained, but he dismissed the thought quickly, glancing over his shoulder to find the large-framed man still trailing him doggedly. The guy was absentmindedly apologizing for bumping into people as he went, murmuring 'pardon me', 'excuse me' and 'I'm so sorry' every few steps.

If this man was an enemy, why was he being so polite? The boy's steps faltered a bit. What was with the threatening radiation, then? "Hey, you! Stop!" The kid turned back to facing forward, grimly speeding up when the man yelled. He definitely recognized that voice. In high contrast to his polite mumbles to those around him, his deep, growling order had clawed at the fleeing boy like a predator. Now he really didn't find the idea of stopping too appealing. What struck him more than the threatening tone, though, was the fact that he recognized the voice from after waking up in the vault. He'd heard it somewhere in the time he remembered – the question to be asked, though, was where? It was possible that he'd heard it among the crowds of people he'd been milling around with for the past couple of hours, but he doubted one of them would have made such an impression as to be readily recognized later. The fleeing teen's eyes widened as he realized where he must've heard it.

He was one of the costumed people from last night in the vault.

So apparently he'd made a lasting impression last night – of the wrong kind.

He kept going, his feet pounding the pavement, the bag on his shoulder flapping awkwardly against his leg. But he wouldn't stop. He couldn't. Even if these people knew who he really was, they hadn't been too cordial to him last night, and really didn't want another confrontation with them. "Go away!" He yelled over his shoulder, but the man still pursued.

Bruce clenched his teeth, wondering if this was really all worth it. Perhaps the boy was his clone, working for the other side, leading him into a trap right now. But that didn't feel right. A clone would've had some knowledge or purpose – even if he had simply escaped his test tube – and the people who had made him would've been smart enough to implant memories and give him a name. But no… the boy was completely disoriented. Whatever was going on, he needed to be caught and contained. "Stop!" Bruce yelled again, feeling quite agitated. It was true, the younger teen was light and quick on his feet, but it didn't look as if he had an intricate knowledge of the streets sprawling out before him. Bruce frowned, thinking for a moment before diving down a side alley, and out of sight. Passers by and onlookers stared after the two runners with ill concealed confusion and interest, but quickly went back on their merry way. This was Gotham City after all. Weirder stuff than that happened every day.

The boy slowed slightly, for as he glanced over his shoulder again, he couldn't see the large form running deftly after him any more. He allowed himself a welcome sigh of relief, attempting to catch his breath as he scanned the usual throngs of civilians, milling about with seeming aimlessness. His pace deteriorated to a cautious walk as he continued scanning around him, but he wasn't expecting the man to reappear in front of him.

"Gahhh!" He cried out in dismay as he turned, ducking as the guy tried to grab at his arm. "Leave me alone! I didn't do anything! Stop following me!" He twisted out of range, moving to sprint again, but the older man moved with the swift grace of a feline, managing to trip him, and send him sprawling across the sidewalk.

"Oomph!" Even then, he tried to get up and crawl away, but Bruce scowled, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, and pinning him up against the wall. "Well, Kid, if you didn't do anything, then why are you running?"

"Because you were chasing me!"

Bruce was not amused. "I was only chasing you because you started running."

The boy ignored the statement. This was going around in circles. "Let me go! I don't want any trouble." He struggled in vain, and he didn't feel that it was necessary to pull out fighting moves yet, but if the man didn't let him go… "What do you want with me?"

At that, Bruce loosened his grip a bit, letting the boy come forward off of the wall. "Are you going to run?" After a moment, the boy shook his head, but his ocean eyes betrayed his fear and anger. Nevertheless, Bruce let him free. The kid straightened his grungy jacket, and brushed himself off, but didn't make any move to bolt.

"All I wanted to know," Bruce stated quietly. "Was if you wanted a little breakfast."

The boy's eyes went wide at that, his jaw dropping open. "You've got to be kidding me." He growled, surprise quickly replaced by hostile defense. "You expect me to believe I was chased two city blocks just to ask me if I wanted breakfast?"

"Yes." The distinguished man replied frankly. "Yes I do."

"I…" The nameless teen trailed off, rather at a loss of what to say to that. "You're not going to turn me into the police or anything?"

Bruce feigned confusion. "Why would I do that?"

"Never mind." The kid mumbled, shoving his hands in the pockets of his slim jeans. Maybe he wasn't from the vault the night before. He certainly wasn't as cold as any of them had been. "I've just… had a rough past couple of days."

Bruce smiled. "Breakfast then?"

The boy looked up at the man's seemingly kind face, wondering where all the hostility he had sensed before had ended up. It seemed to have evaporated into thin air, replaced by an open and downright sunny countenance. The man didn't seem like a threat anymore, and somehow, his strange familiarity was comforting. The teen knit his eyebrows together, wondering why the man was so recognizable, but responded to the question in kind. "Yeah." He finally replied reluctantly. "Breakfast would be… nice." Talk about a handout. Guy chases you for that long just wondering if you're hungry? Something weird has got to be going on there. Nevertheless, the lost young teenager fell into step beside the larger man as they walked back the way they had sprinted together.

Unfortunately, he couldn't hold back the next question. "Why do you care?" He turned, looking up slightly at the dark haired guy.

The man continued facing forward, but glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes, quickly formulating an excuse. "Honestly?"

The boy looked expectant.

"My girlfriend commented on the fact that you were standing by the window. I'm kind of trying to impress her."

The boy's ocean eyes went wide. "Because taking her to a restaurant like that wasn't enough? You had to chase me down and scare the heck out of me in the process? I thought you were…" He'd thought the man had been from the night before, chasing him to arrest him or something. Instead, he left the sentence trailing though, finding it unnecessary to endanger his dual identity if the man wasn't aware of it.

Bruce was suddenly interested, wondering if the boy had registered his connection to the masked personas in the vault. "You thought I was… what?"

"Nothing." The boy mumbled, averting his gaze to stare straight ahead, refusing to meet the strange man's gaze. The kid was looking slightly sullen now, and feeling quite used. At least he got food out of the deal. But then he supposed that made it a win-win situation – the man impressed his girl, and he got breakfast.

"I guess I should sort of thank you for chasing me down then, Mister…?" The boy didn't turn to look at him, but murmured the question quietly, being as discreet as possible in requesting a name.

At this point, Bruce figured he could no longer hide his identity. He didn't know if anything would come of the boy hearing his name, and in fact, he'd found it rather odd that the kid hadn't recognized him already. At this point, he was still caught between theories, and not quite sure what to believe. "Wayne." He finally said, answering the question. "Bruce Wayne. I'm surprised you don't recognize me. I'm in the news all the time."

Startled, the boy stopped dead in his tracks, and for a moment, Bruce thought he had finally triggered something in the boy's memory.

"Bruce Wayne?" The boy asked incredulously, and the thus named man turned to face him stoically. "The Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes. That would be me."

"Huh." The boy started walking again, almost surprised that the name stuck out so vividly in his memories. Well, the name, and the fact that the man was practically a walking moneybag. He owned a huge company recently renamed Wayne Enterprises (go figure, right?) after a huge scandal involving the other major shareholder by the name of Powers. So, the business had gone from Wayne Enterprises, to Wayne Powers, to Wayne Enterprises again. "Somehow," The boy stated, "I thought you were older."

Bruce started walking again as well, staring through annoyed and half-lidded eyes. Yeah, for a moment, he thought he had finally triggered something in the boy's memory. So much for that theory. Unbeknownst to him, the name had triggered memories, just not the right ones. The young man was figuratively scratching his head, wondering why the heck he'd ever come up with the picture of a decrepit and sour old man (that he really felt like calling an 'old bat') in response to the name of this suave and debonair young man (who was certainly a man, and not a bat).

Silence was the norm for a little bit until Bruce broke the awkward tension, and tentatively asked for his young companion's name. The boy's face soured a bit at that, and his eyebrows knit together again. Bruce was immediately aware of the fact that he either didn't know his name or was trying to hide it, for his companion scanned every word around him, searching for something to put out there as a cover. "Caine." The boy finally responded, pulling a first name off of the name tag of a passer by on his way to work. Bruce almost snorted with the irony. Random though it may have been, it almost seemed appropriate. Caine meant something to the effect of 'son of the fighter'. "Caine Grainier." The boy finished, the last name swiped from the tag of some expensive outfit displayed in a sparkling and pristine store window.

Bruce nodded, accepting this lie as functional for the moment. "Well, I'm sorry to have startled you earlier… Caine."

The boy shrugged his broad, well-muscled shoulders. "As long as I get breakfast out of it…" He trailed off, a hint of a smile claiming his thin lips. Bruce smiled lightly as well, glad that some semblance of peace and camaraderie had begun to sprout up between them. He had been hoping that this would be of assistance in pulling the boy into the loop of their 'Bat clan', and figuring out exactly who he was. It was still slightly awkward talking to him, knowing what he did about Caine's DNA, but the boy didn't seem to hint at the fact that he knew Bruce as a father. The situation was beginning to seriously confuse him. Brushing his bewilderment aside, he continued to try to make easy conversation. "What were you doing wandering around downtown Gotham gawking into restaurant windows anyway?" He queried casually.

"Being hungry." Caine replied honestly, shrugging.

Bruce smiled lightly. "Figures. Is that all you do to fill your time?"

No, I also like to dress up in Halloween attire and scare the hell out of the locals. Caine suppressed a smirk at the thought, and replied as nonchalantly as before, accenting his statement with a single shoulder shrug. "Eh. There are lots of different things to do, I suppose. Nothing too interesting."

Bruce eyed him suspiciously. Was every answer he received going to be skeptical and flighty? The theory that the boy had some sort of memory loss seemed more and more acceptable at this point. Still contemplative (and wondering how this was going to go over with Delilah), the billionaire playboy pointed to the golden storefront where only minutes before, Caine had been plastered to the window, leaving trails of drool down the polished glass. "Here." Bruce smiled charmingly, opening the door for his young charge.

Though still somewhat suspicious of the man's motives, Caine slipped into the restaurant, only to be confronted by a rather disgruntled maitre d'. "May I help you?" The thin, regal man questioned in a soured tone. Before he was able to reply though, the boy felt a strong hand on his shoulder, and he turned in surprise. Bruce stood close behind him, smiling confidently at the other man. "He's with me, Mike." He spoke in a haughty air, and the man stepped aside, if somewhat begrudgingly. Caine only spared the man a brief glance before turning his attention back to the direction Bruce was guiding him. The billionaire's hand was still firmly planted on his shoulder. An involuntary shiver ran down the boy's spine as a vision of that old… bat flashed before his eyes. The man sat huddled in a chair in a dark room – a cave? – his hands gripping his cane with strength unusual for a man of his years. His eyes were a cold, clear blue, and Caine couldn't help but see the resemblance to the man now guiding him to breakfast, but he couldn't be the same person… could he?

Shaking his head to clear the muddled cobwebs of his own past and identity, he began to glance around blankly and somewhat sheepishly as Mr. Wayne directed a dejected glance at his now empty table. Caine caught on quick, following his gaze, unable to suppress a small smirk. "Stood up... ouch."

Bruce pat the young man on the shoulder perhaps a little too hard, causing the boy to lurch forward slightly as he flagged down a passing waiter, inquiring after Delilah's whereabouts. The waiter looked almost nervous... "Mr. Wayne, I do apologize. She informed us that you had business to attend to and would not be returning... We assigned the check to your tab..." The final statement was a little more of a question than intended as the man expected to be scolded for his improper judgement on the young woman, but Bruce simply sighed, nodding. "Well, thank you for that... I'll take care of it." He grumbled slightly as he gestured to Delilah's empty seat, indicating that it was now Caine's. "That little minx... She certainly won't be getting a second date."

"So much for impressing her." Caine quipped again, and Bruce shot him a gaze that abruptly silenced him and made his grin stretch wider in the same moment.

After being seated, the breakfast was suddenly much more awkward. Both men stared down at their respective menus, as if eye contact or speaking had become a sudden social faux pas. The silence stretched on between them, only broken by the occasional nervous finger-tap of Caine on the menu he seemed so occupied by, a flurry of thoughts whirling through his mind. He still didn't trust the man who had brought him here, though he did appreciate the gesture of breakfast.

It was Bruce who finally banished the quiet as they waited for a server, almost wishing he hadn't pursued the strange boy at that particular moment. Almost. But at this point there was no going back, so he may as well get some use out of the child while he still had him here. "So, Caine. Do you live around here?"

"No." Caine wasn't quick in answering, but he didn't labor over the question. He seemed to be coming to terms with the fact that the major pieces of his memory were going to be so much harder to make sense of then the small parts associated with specific names and titles.

"Really? Then why were you wandering around downtown Gotham?" The billionaire tilted his head, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin upon them, a speculative air accenting his expression.

"Jeez, what's with the twenty questions?" a defensive air overcame the child. He didn't like this guy prying into his life. And as much as this Bruce character was seemingly easy to talk to, and somehow a little more trustworthy than he'd initially expected, he wasn't willing to bare his soul to just anyone yet. Not until he figured out what was going on. His blue eyes smoldered suspiciously, and he backed as far as possible into his chair. Bruce leaned back comfortably, giving the boy as much space as possible while maintaining his calm demeanor. He had Caine here, but if he pushed too hard, then there was nothing stopping him from running. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." He glanced down at his menu again. This was going to be an interesting breakfast.

It was the nervous waiter that interrupted their silence this time, and each man ordered. Bruce's breakfast was light: egg whites and vegetables, a glass of juice, some coffee. After a hesitant inquiry after how much he was allowed to order, and being given free reign over the menu, Caine took good advantage of his own breakfast. It was a heavy meal comprised of an omelet filled with ham, bacon, green peppers and onions, accompanied by pancakes, bacon, sausage, and hash-browns on the side... and of course, everything that could be was smothered in either cheese or syrup, respectively. Bruce noted that it was more of a country meal. The kid didn't seem used to the fancier tastes, and had manipulated his order to fit. There was no lobster or caviar, and Caine had actually made quite the face when it had been suggested. After the waiter left to take their requests to the kitchen, silence was the norm until their food arrived and each man focused solely upon their sustenance.

As the elder of the two picked through his meal like the spoiled rich man he was, the younger plowed through his with abandon. "How long has it been since you've eaten?" Bruce finally asked with a bemused smirk. Caine shrugged, not wasting time to stop eating and answer, perfectly intent on his meal. The billionaire's gaze softened as he watched the teenager, feeling somewhat sorry for the seemingly starving boy. He couldn't help but wonder if he was homeless. Why else would he have been so defensive about where he lived, and have been pining for food through a storefront window?

"Caine… I can't help but wonder… do you have any place to stay?"

The question struck the boy odd, and he stopped inhaling his meal for a moment enough to breathe and reply. He laid down his fork with a reserved air, unsure of how to answer. "Honestly…" He started, figuring it wouldn't be a problem to answer. "I don't know."

Pouncing on the chance he was being given, Bruce inquired after what had been bothering him. "You don't know? Do you mean to tell me you're homeless, or…?"

"I mean I don't know!" Caine answered with something resembling a growl. "I… might be. I can't… remember." He mumbled, fumbling over the words, and feeling embarrassed to admit to these things. So that was it. Bruce sat back, feeling pleased that this small portion of the mystery had been cracked. So – it had been memory loss.

Despite the pleasure at having unraveled part of the mystery, Bruce's expression maintained deep concern for the young man. "You can't remember? Caine… does this have to do with your injury?" He gestured to the obvious cut and contusion that spread over part of the young man's face. "Do you need help, or a place to stay?"

"No." Caine stood abruptly, suddenly feeling that this contact with humanity had certainly gone too far. He shouldn't be associating with this guy. He didn't know him. It wasn't right. "Look, thanks for your hospitality and all, and for breakfast, but I really need to get out of here."

Bruce grabbed the boy's wrist, a worried scowl crossing his visage. "You sure you don't need anything?"

"Yeah." Caine mumbled, pulling away harshly. "Thanks and all, but I got to get out of here." He swiped a couple of breakfast biscuits still remaining on the table, and sauntered out of the restaurant with his shoulders hunched. Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to toy with the food on his plate absentmindedly. He'd ended up pushing to hard, but the boy seemed fragile and flighty as it were. He stared after Caine as he passed by the storefront window once more, and sighed. He really needed to figure out what was going on here.