Chapter 11
"So I'm finally doing this 'introduction to the parentals' thing. Properly, you know, not just the quick Hi-Bye like the first time I went to pick her up for a date. When I still had the time to do that," Terry spoke through the Bluetooth markV that was hooked over his ear.
"Congratulations," Bruce's even voice came up over the other end.
"Yeah, thanks much, very encouraging."
"Just be yourself."
"Be a person who dresses up at night to scare the hearts out of cowardly criminals?"
"If you want to put it that way..." the mirth in Bruce's baritone was evident even as the communicator crackled as Terry walked through an underpass.
"Oh you're very good on the advice thing, you are," Terry muttered, fidgeting with his collar. "What sort of advice did you give the other two back in the day anyway?"
"Advice? None. Dick barely shared and I never asked. Tim, well there was this one time with Clayface," Bruce mused, then drew up short, "Not what I meant." Terry smirked on the other end, yet another story he would have to pry from the old man some day. Bruce continued, "No there wasn't much in that department when he was Robin. But like I said, be yourself."
Terry exhaled slowly as he rang the doorbell, listening to the chimes from the other side of the door and muted footsteps which grew closer. The door opened, Dana behind it in a casual top and jeans which flared slightly at the bottom, red thread edging the bottom as the stitches trailed back up the leg in decorative swirls. Then the imposing figure of her father loomed across her shoulder and Terry had to try his best to plaster on an as friendly and decidedly not-scared smile across his face as he could.
Sure, Bruce. Be yourself. You totally were a person who'd up the intimidation ante even when not donning the cowl. And you totally did not follow your own advice, or your Butler's, or... or anyone's really. And you were fickle. At least I'm not fickle. Well, not if you count Melanie. Oh, don't think about Melanie. Idiot, McGinnis.
"Ah! The floppy haired boy!" Mr. Tan's voiced boomed at him. Terry started. Dana's father was smiling, arms open as Dana gave him an apologetic but amused grin from the door.
"Hi, sir, nice to meet you," Terry stretched his hand out, only to have it crushed in a near vice grip as Mr. Tan yanked him forward, eyes crinkled in a jovial but still rather intimidating smile. Terry sputtered a bit as he was caught off balance.
"His name is Terry, Pa," Dana giggled as Terry's arm was wrenched up and down in the approximation of a tornado powered handshake.
"Of course, Terry, but still, it rhymes with 'floppy'. Please, come in, my wife has made some very nice roasted pork and lotus soup. You will like the soup. Very cooling."
The lunch went better than expected, at least for Terry. It had seemed that after the incident with the rat-boy, Dana's father's protective anger had faded somewhat from being directed at Terry. Finding out that he was working for the head of Wayne industries also helped.
"Much better work than that high and mighty Huang," he had declared, dipping his head in a slight duck as he continued sagely, "Never trust the Chinese."
"Pa! You're Chinese!" Dana laughed as her mother patted Mr. Tan on the arm with her own smile.
"Ah, but there are two kinds!" he went on undeterred, "The kind who work like dogs, and the kind who just are dogs. I did not help build my company hanging around with mongrels! Anyway, I was born in the year of the horse. I work hard." Here he turned to Terry, "Be good if you work hard too. You can't go wrong there. I don't want you living like those bum gang kids on the street if you want to marry my daughter."
Terry felt his neck going red. "Err..."
Dana jumped to his rescue. "Oh, Pa! We're much too young to be thinking about marriage. And you're a horse, you're also stubborn."
Mrs. Tan spoke up this time, "We hold strongly to tradition. It served our communities well after the great disaster, helped society get back on its feet."
"That and the fact that the west was looking to us to help them rebuild," said Mr. Tan. "Why the need to run after all their values when evidently we had become the new model?"
"I don't know if the systems aren't so different, sir," Terry began, moderating the speed of his words carefully, "I know Mr. Wayne values his family's legacy quite a lot."
"If he really did he would have got married, but I like this Mr. Wayne, I remember watching him on television back when we first came over to Gotham. Big man, good haircut. You can tell a lot about a man by his haircut." Oh, so that might explain the floppy-haired connection. Dana looked vaguely embarrassed, but with a certain fondness that showed she wasn't taking her father very seriously.
"That's not a Chinese tradition thing, Terry, that's just my father." And they had all laughed. Then Mr. Tan's face sank into a contemplative seriousness.
"Yes, legacy is important."
2005:
"Shayera had a talk with me yesterday," the gravel of Batman's voice bounced off the walls of the monitor womb as the panel door slid open. John settled for typing up a few more feeds before turning around in his chair.
"And?"
"She asked about her son."
John covered his discomfort at the topic by checking the time. His shift was just ending. "And?" He looked over at Batman, who stood impassive, if with his arms crossed and leaning against the doorjamb. "You told her, didn't you?" John asked when the silence threatened to drag itself out.
"Why did you tell her?" Batman countered instead. John couldn't find it in him to answer that point. He got up instead and headed out of the room and down the corridor just as Elongated Man showed up to take over. Batman followed.
"I also told her it was a only a possible future. Chronos did enough to muck things up."
"You think that, do you?" John asked. They had reached the cafeteria by now, and after collecting their trays of food, sat down at one of the more secluded areas of the hall. Batman's bristling through it showed he wasn't in much of a mood to entertain any other League members. His preference for obscurity was suiting the Green Lantern fine at this point, except that his obscurity was extending to his curt non-answers. He waited for an answer.
True to form, Batman answered with another question, "You mean you don't?" It seemed a genuine one. John looked up from his food with a frown.
"You're being dead serious about this, aren't you?" he interpreted Batman's stare as the equivalent of Wally's 'duh's, and went on, "You've been thinking about it."
"Yes."
"And.. you're being all philosophical and thinking about destiny." Here Batman started slightly, then shook his head.
"No. I've been... reviewing probabilities."
"Pfft, sure, you fool yourself into thinking that. I've found it easier to just not think about it. Chalk it up to Marine training."
"Clearly you haven't, John, or you wouldn't have told her." Mm, he had a point there. "You've been stewing on it more than I have."
"Look, we've had this conversation before. I'm in a very nice relationship with Mari, and I'm not going to screw that up just because the future says one day Shay and I are going to produce a kid."
"A big kid, who becomes a superhero after his mother's legacy."
"Oh very apt, like you won't have your own successor."
At this point Batman speared a bit of pasta with his fork a bit too vehemently. "That wise-cracking kid. Too young to be in that suit, really," he mused.
"And look, you care about him already!"
Batman levelled a look of annoyance at Green Lantern, who shrugged in response. "And he followed your instructions, not just the old you."
"I never thought I'd want Batman to continue after I was done with it. I never even thought I'd live past fifty. I still don't." He looked up from his tray, "And the worst part, my successor dies. Presumably the old Wayne sees that play out.
I'll be damned if harm comes to any of my current charges."
"I don't know much about destiny. But I know lots about will. And Free-will. When we had that supposed flashback into a past life, there was no Mari, and Shay and I, well, our counter parts were together. This, after that time travelling thing. But it's not fair to Mari if I just say, oh, destiny's calling, sorry love, but we can't."
"And it's fair to have your affections on someone else even as you sit yourself through a relationship you now feel is an obligation?"
John frowned. "Oh hey, that's not fair. Being obligated to Shayera would be just as bogus a relationship." He paused for a moment, then started abruptly, "and WHY is it always about me?" Batman smirked for a moment, then sobered again.
"You saw my future. I was alone."
"They'd all died. And you weren't alone. There was another Batman."
"I didn't act as if I had anything with Diana beyond being colleagues. No additional emotional recognition."
"So, what, you're going to make that come true by pushing her away?"
Batman smirked. "Call it weaning her off my potential affections."
"Riight."
"Going to that future only showed me that in all likelihood I would be a bitter old man. Why cause others undue pain in the process?"
"And yet you managed pass the mantle on."
Batman paused for a moment. "I do still wonder how that happened. Will happen. If it does."
"And...?"
A look of consternation passed across Batman's face. "And nothing."
John leaned back in his chair.
"Uh huh."
2009:
"Sir, if you might hurry, they'll be wanting to start in fifteen minutes, and you are expected to make an appearance." Alfred's voice echoed from the top of the staircase.
"Yes, Alfred," Bruce ground out, adjusting his cowl as he made his way from the Batmobile.
"I assume you'll inform them yourself when you are ready to be teleported. Miss Gordon is already there." Bruce grunted in reply, switching on the intercom.
"Ready, Mr. Terrific."
The Watchtower was filled with people. Practically all the capes who had survived the last battle were there. Once the funerals and memorials had been done with, John Stewart and Shayera Hol got into their heads that life was for living, and that everyone needed a happy event to take their minds away from the past carnage the world was trying to pick itself back from. This involved a wedding, with the Justice League in attendance, with the founding members to be seated at the front. Family, Shayera had said. Bruce had cringed at the sentiment, but could not bear to turn down the invitation, even if he would much rather have kept watch over Gotham. At least it was being held in the Watchtower, a suitable location if any, were any members required to leave at a moment's notice.
"Batman, it's nice to see you." He heard the greeting from behind his shoulder, and turned to see the Amazonian Princess decked in some of her finest diplomatic attire.
"Princess," he acknowledged, tensing, unwilling to see the slump in her shoulders at his response. They had worked together for a spell, clearing the carnage, but their last conversation had ended on a less than cordial note.
"You seem to care a lot for her," Diana had said as they observed Talia through a one way glass wall. Batman had been standing there for an hour, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she slept in the infirmary.
"She just destroyed her own father."
"But you were the one who said Ra's had numerous ways of resurrecting himself."
"Let me correct my statement then," he had said, teeth clamping over each syllable. "She has just lost her father. Even if he comes back to life, she will never be his daughter again." Diana had fallen silent but he pressed on, "Would you know what it's like to lose a father?"
Her head had snapped round as if slapped, then she had stalked off down the corridor.
But she never gave up her so very pleasant cordiality, and attempts at, well, whatever relationship they were supposed to have. Not in the weeks leading up to Tim's disappearance, and not after until Alfred had persuaded her to stop. Now three years later she was trying to renew their friendship. Again. And he...
He was being a downright prick and he knew it. Keeping as neutral a voice as possible he angled himself towards her and asked, "How have you been?"
"Oh, saving the world, keeping out of your hair, the usual," she answered, smiling as she tossed her hair back. "You?"
"Gotham."
"Of course."
Their conversation did not continue. Bruce was grateful that the ceremony began a minute after, and escaped to where the founding member's meeting room was as soon as he could. Barbara would find her own way back.
"She knows about your latest partner, you know," a bass voice said.
"Clark."
"And she approves. Likes to think that you are happy," Clark continued, unstopping. "Why are you being so cold to her?"
"She won't give up."
"I thought that was a plus point in your world."
"Why haven't you asked Lois to marry you yet?"
"Changing the subject won't help, Bruce." Bruce looked up to stare as Superman stepped into the room. He turned his attention to the array of stars beyond the windows.
"She's a distraction," he managed after a minute. "Maintaining a professional relationship with her is impossible." He looked back at Clark, and nearly spat at the sadness written across his face. He allowed his lip to curl instead as the next thought came through his mind.
"Worse still. I am a distraction. She cannot afford it." He said, fingertips gingerly pressing into the conference table through the last sentence.
"She can't afford to be your friend." Clark said, unimpressed. Bruce looked at him, considered the point with a tilt of his head, then turned away to face the gloom of space again.
Eyelids shuttered, Bruce murmured, "No, none of you can."
Damned Kryptonian sympathy. Yes, because it was conferred upon him, and he was damned, irrevocably. Bruce delivered another punch to the bag in front of him. Knuckles sank into cloth and sand. Again. Again. Again.
The bag ripped open.
She was immortal. That was the problem. If you were immortal you weren't supposed to care. Like the pantheon she subscribed to. Actions without consequence. Not bound to the rules of the dregs of humanity like the rest of them, even those with super powers. But he knew, out of all of them, he would be the first to fall, if ever. It would be him, who would grow old quickly. It would be him whose leg would act up at the worst possible moment, who would slow down as the fight wore on. It would be him who was weak, him who was frail, he who would become the greatest liability of all in the end. He could not afford that, and neither could they.
He thought of the suit he saw in the future. He'd made it so he could fly. Fly. He almost laughed at that, but it sounded choked in the cave, and he collapsed against one of the training platforms, breathing heavily. Who did he think he was? Bruce trying to play it big. Lightweight synthetic material interlaced with technology, some sort of strength enhancer in there too, perhaps a concentration force field over the material? It was possible. He had made an arm recently, mechanical, with the field generated over the fist. Could take down a truck. He would have to try it someday. A walking hospitable bed, if anything. Only prolonging the inevitable, old man.
Old. Man.
Everyone else who thought of mortality then seemed to think of settling down for life with someone else. Hell, Oliver and Dinah were planning a wedding. Wally had proposed to Linda Park. J'onn had found someone even before the Al Ghul fiasco. He thought of Barbara. It had been three years, perhaps more if you wanted to think about it. She would not disappoint like Andrea. And no games like Selina. No complications like Talia. Maybe he would get by not hurting her as he did Diana. Maybe.
2010:
"I'm sorry, Bruce," they had each said.
It had been a small, private ceremony, on the grounds of Wayne Manor. Jim Gordon had come by with his daughter. Dick and Tim had also made their way back to Gotham. Then the founding members of the League. Diana because she was stubborn, Clark too. John because Shayera had wanted to. Then of course, J'onn and Wally. Lucius had given the speech.
If any of them said 'Family', Bruce thought he would pound them into the dirt at his feet, never mind that he would likely be at the physical disadvantage. They had no right... or maybe they did. Maybe he was the one without any rights in this situation. He looked over at Dick and Tim and Barbara huddled together, at the Leaguers in another area by themselves, and Jim and Lucius looking older than ever as they contemplated the headstone.
Alfred was dead.
The rest of them had eventually been ushered into the house by Dick and Lucius. Dick's smile at him had been wane, with a pale, tight nod at Bruce before turning into the guest lounge. Tim had just looked sad. They had all looked sad. A little voice in Bruce's head whispered that it wished people would stop being sad. Bruce wondered if he was finally going mad. A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he didn't have the strength to shrug it off. Instead, his whole frame began to tremble as he gripped the gloves in his hand. He had been silent through the whole affair, mute when receiving condolences. When Dick had hugged Tim, when Wally had gone up to Dick, he couldn't find it in himself to approach them, for fear of... of what exactly? That they would see his guilt? Or that they would see his pain? Or that he would see theirs?
"Bruce." It was Diana. It was always Diana. Barbara was still hurting, and would stay away. All the better for her. At least she would be safe that way. But Diana, immortal, eternally youthful Diana, with no concept of age and loss beyond what she had seen of others, Diana would not stay away, because she had no idea of the danger. Bruce was suddenly seething.
"I will miss him too. We will all miss him. Your loss -"
"You have no idea what my loss is, Princess." He spun round to face her, ignoring the sympathy and understanding. Ignoring the twinge at the back of his head that told him his words were ungrounded, unfair.
"You have no idea what it's like. To lose... to lose..." a father. The words remained stuck in his throat. Another betrayal, another fact gone unacknowledged because he was too weak to do so.
"...To lose twice," he said. Then his eyes went cold as he looked into hers. "But you will."
"One day you will lose Wally West, and Shayera Hol, and John Stewart. One day you may even have to bury J'onn J'onzz, and Clark Kent."
"One day I will lose you," she had said with damnable calm.
"You already have. You should have."
"No," was her reply. It was infuriating.
"You foolish, idiotic woman."
"Even if you fail to admit it to yourself Bruce, to us, to me: you're still family."
Then he had struck her. His palm red from the impact and the crack resounding past his ears as it was replaced by rushing sound of blood pumping past his veins. He stared at his hand in disbelief, then at her. Diana reeled, more from shock than any sort of pain, he knew, then a steely glint came to her eyes as she stared him square in the face.
"You may think you have no heart, Bruce," she said. Tears began to drip down her cheeks, but she stood strong, solid even as the wind that threatened to blow him off his feet wrenched her hair back. "But thinking it doesn't make it so."
Hurt them to save them. Such melodrama. It was such a twisted concept, Bruce knew, even as he watched her back grow smaller and smaller as she walked resolutely to the house. Because if not, the worst happens. Like with Tim. The young man was looking out of the tall windows, seeking his face. Bruce flinched.
Of course he knew he had a heart. He choked on it every day.