Chapter 10

2009:

When he woke up dawn was just breaking through the heavy curtains. His shoulder still hurt, but he could feel stitches holding the flesh together. It would heal. The sinews of his thigh were knotting together again, he would have to see to that. The air was cool about his face, a soft relief. Wait, the air was about his face? His hand flew up to come into contact with his exposed brow. Trying to push himself into a sitting position with his free hand, he ignored the swimming darkness in his head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the voice said to his left. Selina. He peered through his fingers at her, shoulders hunched and braced against the headrest. "Drink," she said as she approached the edge of the bed, bringing up a glass of water to his lips. He did, lowering his hand to gaze at her, waiting for her to speak again. He should be angry. At her, for stripping him free of his mask, for putting himself in such a vulnerable position. At himself, for being so weak, for letting himself be exposed.

But he was not. It felt right, somehow, that she saw him as he was. Unmasked, without pretension. He caught a whiff of sterilising alcohol. Morphine in his system no doubt, but that shouldn't be affecting him in any way, unless his tolerance build up had waned in the past few months.

"Alfred came by during the night to check on anything I might have missed out, and to drop a change of clothes," she told him, voice still remarkably calm. He wasn't sure what he was to expect. Her starting a huge rant fest about keeping his identity from her, for one, and yet somehow, he knew she wouldn't do that. Selina rolled with the punches, she was a good girl. Bruce would credit her that much, and so much more. She got up from the bed, and Bruce followed the sway of her hips as she made her way back to the counter. Most certainly not the girlish charm Barbara exuded. Every step, each gesture, so carefully controlled, just like he was. He thought of their encounters in the past, and felt guilt along with them. Barbara did not deserve his musings, even if she would never know them.

Barbara would probably be worried about him right now.

"I understand now," Selina's voice wafted through the room to him again,

"About you. About this."

"Selina, I..."

"No, Bruce, no," she turned around, face half obscured in the shadows of the room. "Don't say anything. Don't try. We've walked the tightrope too long for that, you and I."

His face was carefully schooled, breathing steady as he had trained himself to do, eyes unwavering even as his mind did. Bruce Wayne had of course kept up relations with Selina Kyle, if only at the various high society parties where they met as friends. When word had got around, as it did, that Barbara Gordon and him were increasingly in each other's company, like Veronica she had given him her best wishes with the usual aplomb. Bruce had been grateful for that, they were few among the many disappointed socialites.

"I know what you see in her," Selina continued. A twitch in his fingers indicated his surprise, and she smiled sadly, gaze on the edge of the bedsheets. "That life, that exuberance. You should watch the news clips of your successes more often. Very in sync. She's not clouded by darkness, not the way I am." She stared him in the eyes now, "I always thought Batman would never love me because it was against his stiff, uptight morals. To love a criminal, the thought. And yet, you cared. I exploited, of course, but who was to know I would care too?"

His hands were loosely clenched around the bed sheets now. "You don't like spoiled goods. Not someone as rich as you, with a vision so perfect for this hell hole."

"No," the timbre of his voice broke through, "No, you're not spoiled goods. Never think that Selina. If anyone's broken, it's –"

"Shh... Why my dear, what a terribly clichéd thing to say," Selina interrupted, a soft quirk of her lips dissolving Bruce's words before they left his mouth. He caught her eyes again and smiled back. It was pained, yet liberating somehow, that she would accept this way, that she would understand. But of course she would understand, that line they walked, that balance between light and darkness, something which awed Barbara but would only taint her if she got too close, the darkness Bruce had promised to protect her from. This, this Selina revelled in, this grey world he trudged through.

"Maybe in another of my lives."

Perhaps.

2041:

"I think Terry will be returning soon," Bruce said after a moment's pause. He got up stiffly, leaning heavily on the cane. He would have to add a new section to his morning routine, he noted, possibly the afternoon and evening ones too. It wouldn't do to have stiff joints with his increasingly taxing schedule. Speaking of new schedules, he would have to follow through with the calls he was making concerning Huang Holding's dealings, and warn Foxeteca of possible sabotages. He turned towards Diana, arms outstretched to where she was, still seated on the couch. The pensive shuttering of her eyes disappeared and she smiled, drawing herself up to stand beside him.

"Would you care to join me?"

"Be careful, Bruce, you're almost being charming."

Terry was just entering as they reached the bottom of the cave, and the results would be complete in about two more minutes. Bruce took his place in front of the screen.

"They were trying to steal something electro-magnetic, I believe," Terry said on reaching them.

"A Weapon?"

"No, more like the part of a communicator. Though that could be routed to a satellite."

"The Justice League has been scanning the orbit. Should I ask them to step up surveillance?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure. Yes just to be sure. What have you got for the component matches Bruce?" Terry turned to the screen, narrowing his gaze at the flowing numbers and diagrams.

"Almost done," Bruce nodded, "We can narrow it down to anything dealing with what you saw from there."

The screen blinked, and a list of weapons, construction machines and broadcasting technology flooded its expanse. Bruce keyed in a more refined search as Diana and Terry stood on either side the chair.

"There. that," Terry pointed to a pyramid shaped device held within a larger body, an almost circle of machinery and plutonium cathodes protruding from its shell.

"Disrupts brainwave patterns?" Diana read in surprise, "But to what end?"

"Provides magnetic pulse to disrupt orbital communicators," Bruce continued.

"It's not a weapon. It's a cloaking mechanism," Terry said, one hand under his chin, the other resting on the edge of the console as he leaned up to look at the screen. "See? Diverts human attention away from source. Shields from detection by satellite or any security feed."

"What could they be hiding?"

"It's a lot of trouble just for trafficking. Huang has been trading in dirty money since their arrival in Gotham while keeping their tail coats cleaner."

"You don't think it's Spellbinder, do you?"

"Not his M.O. Why all the word about the Chinese? Spellbinder focuses on kids to do his brainwashing, not that the triads don't, but as far as I know, the Tongs aren't too keen on working with costumed powers unless they are calling the shots. Spellbinder's ego would not let him do that. That, and he's supposed be currently incarcerated."

"All good, surely," Diana responded, still examining the specifications on the screen, "What makes you sure it's the Tongs who are behind this?"

"Apart from the Chinese company being constantly linked to the Chinese mafia? Not to propagate stereotypes or anything. Jimmy Lin's second was at the docks tonight, meeting a T."

"Hmm." Bruce gave the screen another once over before settling his chin over a clenched fist. The other hand lay half folded on his lap.

"I know. Interesting, isn't it?"

"Yes, interesting."

"Interesting?" Diana cut in. "All the decades since I first left the island, and all you men can say is 'interesting'?"

"Hey Dana, cool new bag you've got there," Max said as they tumbled out of the classroom.

"Thanks Max! My dad said he got a good bonus or something for this quarter, decided to give mum and I a treat."

"Whoever knew that scary man had a heart," Terry's voice came from over her shoulder. She turned around.

"Terry!" she exclaimed in mock scandalised tone, "He's really not that bad, you know."

"You can say that, he's your father. You're not the marked boyfriend he comes after with death threats as soon as his daughter goes missing or something."

"Well, we'll have to rectify that, won't we? How about..." and here Dana paused, swishing her hair back as she considered Terry, looking for all the world like she belonged beyond the sweaty confines of the hallway. Sure, she was as rich as Chelsea was, richer, probably in fact, but she wasn't one to go about announcing her wealth. Even the new bag she carried didn't so much as draw attention to her as enhance the beauty she did radiate. In Terry's mind, at least.

"..you come over to my place tomorrow afternoon?"

"What?"

"McGinnis. Pay attention. My place. Tomorrow afternoon. I'll introduce you to the folks. Properly." The last word was enunciated with an agonising slowness that might as well have spelt 'doom'.