Thanks for all the reviews, everyone. I have to confess, I haven't quite finished this, but I'm working on it. There is one comment I thought I should address- Girl-Gambit, you're right. Dalrymple is veddy English. He's the result of going straight from a production of Pirates of Penzance into Sweeney Todd while reading far too many Regency romances and lots of Terry Pratchett. Scary thing is, I actually know people like that...
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Two of the patients were at Gotham Mercy, so Bruce and Tim headed there first. However, getting to the patients was more difficult than they anticipated. The woman covering Reception was smiling, polite, charming, and utterly implacable: noone was to be admitted to see either patient unless they had been cleared by the police. When he realized he wasn't going to get in on his own, Bruce gave in and called Barbara, then waited. He wasn't too pleased when Tim suddenly snickered.
"Something amusing?"
"Sorry. It's just that I've never seen you strike out so badly with a woman. She's good."
Bruce growled softly.
"You could have used a secretary like her back in the day."
"Oh, I'd never go into the corporate sector," the woman said. "It's far too stressful."
"So you work in a hospital instead."
The woman smiled sweetly and turned back to her computer. Tim shook his head with a rueful grin. Bruce was even less in the mood for fooling around than usual, but he didn't say a word. Besides, Tim had a point; she was good.
"All right, Bruce, what are you- oh, hello, Emma," Barbara said, striding up to the desk. "Never mind, I think I know. You should have called me first."
"I didn't expect to need clearance."
"Well, now you know. A lot of hospitals are doing this these days. Any unidentified patient who's been involved in a crime is automatically put under guard, either by hospital security or the police."
"That's sensible, even if it is inconvenient at the moment," Bruce conceded. "Now that you're here, there are two John Does who fit Terry's description."
"Bruce, we did check this."
"He could have been admitted afterwards. One of them was brought in three days ago; have you checked that recently?"
She glared at him, then turned to Emma.
"He's- they're- with me. And congratulations on solving Xeno's Paradox. Come on, you two."
They followed her, leaving Emma looking slightly bemused.
"Zeno's Paradox," muttered Tim. "Isn't that the one about the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object? -Oh. Heh."
"That's the one. I assume Dalrymple called you too?"
"Yes. Knowing it was the Jokerz made matters much easier If neither of these pans out, there's another at Gotham General and another at St. Luke's. I assume they have the same restrictions?"
"Every hospital in Gotham does. And yes, I'll go with you. Here we are- the security wing." She showed her badge and ID to the cop at the door. "They're with me. Identifying a John Doe."
"There's six in there right now."
"Six?" Tim was stunned. The cop shot a look at Barbara, who nodded.
"Three in the last twelve hours. Two drug overdoses, brought in together. We're trying to identify them from their fingerprints, since their brains are slagged. One arson victim, throat damaged too badly to speak. Checking the tenant list on the building for her. Car crash, refusing or unable to speak, prints not on file. Two Jokerz victims, one with a broken jaw, the other in a coma. Both had their prints burned off."
"The Jokerz victims."
"Rooms 1211 and 1223."
He opened the door just wide enough to let them in, then locked it behind them. Room 1211 was closest and held one of the two black-haired victims, but a glance in the window was enough to tell them that this couldn't be Terry. The man's hair was black and glossy, but also long, thick, and curly, like a seventeenth century nobleman's. Bruce couldn't help feeling a stab of disappointment, even though he'd known it was a long shot.
Room 1223 had to hold the one with the unknown hair color, then. This one's age was estimated to be in the early 20's, but since there was a question mark attached to that Bruce had decided it was worth checking. According to his file, he'd had hair when he came in, but the gelpaint that the Jokerz had pured into it had set, forcing the doctors to try some unusual techniques to remove it. They'd had to remove it- he'd been brought in with a fractured skull and they'd needed to operate. He'd been in a coma ever since. When Bruce considered the list of his injuries, he thought it was just as well.
A peek in the window wasn't going to do it this time, especially since there was a nurse bending over him, checking on one of the many tubes attached to him. As they entered, they could hear the nurse talking to him in a soft, pretty voice with a marked Irish accent.
"-isn't any too comfortable himself at the moment. Serves him proper and right. But it sounds like you have visitors, so- oh, my." The nurse stared at them, then turned back to her patient. "Well, young Johnny, I didn't know you knocked about with the likes of Bruce Wayne, Commissioner Gordon, and- I'm sorry, I don't seem to know you."
"No reason you should; I don't live in Gotham," Tim said.
"There, now, I thought you looked sensible. I'm assuming you're here to see if our Johnny is your missing assistant, Mr. Wayne?"
"That's what we're hoping." Bruce spoke politely, hiding his desire to just brush the woman aside and see. She cocked her head, clearly taking his measure. She appeared satisfied with what she saw.
"I should be warning you the lad's none too pretty a sight right now. He was severely beaten- some of the doctors are surprised he survived. Even after two weeks his face is still badly bruised, although the swelling has subsided. You'll be needing to look closely, I'm thinking."
She stepped out of the way without waiting for his answer. Bruce stepped up to the bed, looked down, and froze. The nurse hadn't exaggerated; he wasn't a pretty sight. His hair was growing back, but at the moment it was just stubble. His face was a distracting mass of colors- distracting, that is, to an average person who hadn't trained himself since childhood to ignore such distractions. Bruce. however...
"I'ts him," he said hoarsely. "It's Terry."
"YES!!!"
Tim immediately clapped his hand over his mouth, but noone objected to his exclamation. Barbara was too busy hugging him, the nurse was smiling indulgently, and Bruce was ignoring all of them. Instead, he reached out an unsteady hand and lightly touched Terry's cheek.
"He's been right here the whole time..."
**************************************
Living right in Gotham meant Mary McGinnis had less distance to cover. Less than ten minutes after they called her they heard two sets of feet pelting down the hall. Mary burst into the room a few seconds ahead of Matt, her bright hair uncharacteristically all over the place.
"Where is he?"
Bruce had gotten to his feet as soon as he heard the footsteps. She instinctively looked to him; he looked to the bed.
"Mrs. McGinnis- Mary- I should warn you," he began, but she just shook her head.
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne, but this won't be the first time I've seen Terry after he's lost a fight and I doubt it will be the last now," she responded with more spirit than she'd showed since the whole mess began. Then just as Bruce had a few minutes earlier, she stepped up to the bed, looked down, and froze. And just as she had two weeks before, she burst into tears; this time she actually threw her arms around Bruce and buried her head in his chest.
"He's alive," she sobbed. "Terry's alive!"
Bruce shot Tim and Barbara a look that, for him, bordered on pleading as he awkwardly patted her back. Barbara took pity on both of them and led Mary to the chair Bruce had abandoned. Matt, meanwhile, had come up to the bed and was standing on tiptoe trying to see. Bruce frowned for a second then, knowing he would pay for it later, picked him up.
"Whoa....." Matt gaped at his brother for a while before looking up at Bruce. "He's not just sleeping, is he?"
Bruce looked into the boy's clear brown eyes, trying to decide what to tell him. Eventually he settled on the truth.
"I'm afraid not."
"Will he wake up?"
"...I don't know."
"But he's still alive."
"Yes."
"Then he has to wake up."
Bruce sighed, envying Matt's naive certainty. For him, at least, the initial joy of finding Terry alive and, if not well, then at least in a safe place had already worn off. The list of injuries he'd seen in the hospital files had crept back into his mind, leaving him wondering if Terry wasn't just as lost to them now as he had been only an hour before. He knew Terry could linger like this for months, even years.
A doctor entered, breaking Bruce's chain of thought. He could swear he heard the nurse mutter something under her breath, but when she turned around she was the image of professional efficiency. The doctor looked to be the type who was never anything else. Dick would have said she'd been weaned on a pickle.
"What are all these people doing here, Maguire?"
"Sure and they're here to identify the poor wee lad now, Doctor Miller."
Bruce raised an eyebrow as the nurse's accent thickened dramatically. It didn't take a Great Detective to see there was bad blood between the two. Tim slipped up beside him, took Matt, and nodded toward the door. Bruce nodded back; Tim took the boy out of the room to avoid the upcoming unpleasantness. Only years of experience allowed him to keep a straight face as he heard Matt's departing comment.
"They're gonna have a catfight, aren't they, Mr. Drake?"
Dr. Miller sniffed but otherwise ignored that.
"I believe the rules state very clearly that the only people to be allowed in here are the police and the patient's family, Maguire. Since the boy has no family, perhaps you could explain why this room is so crowded."
Bruce was about to cut the officious woman down to size, but Barbara beat him to it. She flipped out her badge, smiling. Or at least her teeth were bared. Sometimes it was hard even for him to tell the difference.
"I'm Commissioner Barbara Gordon. I am the police."
"And these others?"
Mary, who had stopped crying and quickly tidied herself when the doctor came in, stood and stared her down.
"The boy certainly does have family, and we're it."
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To be continued (still)
***************************************
Two of the patients were at Gotham Mercy, so Bruce and Tim headed there first. However, getting to the patients was more difficult than they anticipated. The woman covering Reception was smiling, polite, charming, and utterly implacable: noone was to be admitted to see either patient unless they had been cleared by the police. When he realized he wasn't going to get in on his own, Bruce gave in and called Barbara, then waited. He wasn't too pleased when Tim suddenly snickered.
"Something amusing?"
"Sorry. It's just that I've never seen you strike out so badly with a woman. She's good."
Bruce growled softly.
"You could have used a secretary like her back in the day."
"Oh, I'd never go into the corporate sector," the woman said. "It's far too stressful."
"So you work in a hospital instead."
The woman smiled sweetly and turned back to her computer. Tim shook his head with a rueful grin. Bruce was even less in the mood for fooling around than usual, but he didn't say a word. Besides, Tim had a point; she was good.
"All right, Bruce, what are you- oh, hello, Emma," Barbara said, striding up to the desk. "Never mind, I think I know. You should have called me first."
"I didn't expect to need clearance."
"Well, now you know. A lot of hospitals are doing this these days. Any unidentified patient who's been involved in a crime is automatically put under guard, either by hospital security or the police."
"That's sensible, even if it is inconvenient at the moment," Bruce conceded. "Now that you're here, there are two John Does who fit Terry's description."
"Bruce, we did check this."
"He could have been admitted afterwards. One of them was brought in three days ago; have you checked that recently?"
She glared at him, then turned to Emma.
"He's- they're- with me. And congratulations on solving Xeno's Paradox. Come on, you two."
They followed her, leaving Emma looking slightly bemused.
"Zeno's Paradox," muttered Tim. "Isn't that the one about the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object? -Oh. Heh."
"That's the one. I assume Dalrymple called you too?"
"Yes. Knowing it was the Jokerz made matters much easier If neither of these pans out, there's another at Gotham General and another at St. Luke's. I assume they have the same restrictions?"
"Every hospital in Gotham does. And yes, I'll go with you. Here we are- the security wing." She showed her badge and ID to the cop at the door. "They're with me. Identifying a John Doe."
"There's six in there right now."
"Six?" Tim was stunned. The cop shot a look at Barbara, who nodded.
"Three in the last twelve hours. Two drug overdoses, brought in together. We're trying to identify them from their fingerprints, since their brains are slagged. One arson victim, throat damaged too badly to speak. Checking the tenant list on the building for her. Car crash, refusing or unable to speak, prints not on file. Two Jokerz victims, one with a broken jaw, the other in a coma. Both had their prints burned off."
"The Jokerz victims."
"Rooms 1211 and 1223."
He opened the door just wide enough to let them in, then locked it behind them. Room 1211 was closest and held one of the two black-haired victims, but a glance in the window was enough to tell them that this couldn't be Terry. The man's hair was black and glossy, but also long, thick, and curly, like a seventeenth century nobleman's. Bruce couldn't help feeling a stab of disappointment, even though he'd known it was a long shot.
Room 1223 had to hold the one with the unknown hair color, then. This one's age was estimated to be in the early 20's, but since there was a question mark attached to that Bruce had decided it was worth checking. According to his file, he'd had hair when he came in, but the gelpaint that the Jokerz had pured into it had set, forcing the doctors to try some unusual techniques to remove it. They'd had to remove it- he'd been brought in with a fractured skull and they'd needed to operate. He'd been in a coma ever since. When Bruce considered the list of his injuries, he thought it was just as well.
A peek in the window wasn't going to do it this time, especially since there was a nurse bending over him, checking on one of the many tubes attached to him. As they entered, they could hear the nurse talking to him in a soft, pretty voice with a marked Irish accent.
"-isn't any too comfortable himself at the moment. Serves him proper and right. But it sounds like you have visitors, so- oh, my." The nurse stared at them, then turned back to her patient. "Well, young Johnny, I didn't know you knocked about with the likes of Bruce Wayne, Commissioner Gordon, and- I'm sorry, I don't seem to know you."
"No reason you should; I don't live in Gotham," Tim said.
"There, now, I thought you looked sensible. I'm assuming you're here to see if our Johnny is your missing assistant, Mr. Wayne?"
"That's what we're hoping." Bruce spoke politely, hiding his desire to just brush the woman aside and see. She cocked her head, clearly taking his measure. She appeared satisfied with what she saw.
"I should be warning you the lad's none too pretty a sight right now. He was severely beaten- some of the doctors are surprised he survived. Even after two weeks his face is still badly bruised, although the swelling has subsided. You'll be needing to look closely, I'm thinking."
She stepped out of the way without waiting for his answer. Bruce stepped up to the bed, looked down, and froze. The nurse hadn't exaggerated; he wasn't a pretty sight. His hair was growing back, but at the moment it was just stubble. His face was a distracting mass of colors- distracting, that is, to an average person who hadn't trained himself since childhood to ignore such distractions. Bruce. however...
"I'ts him," he said hoarsely. "It's Terry."
"YES!!!"
Tim immediately clapped his hand over his mouth, but noone objected to his exclamation. Barbara was too busy hugging him, the nurse was smiling indulgently, and Bruce was ignoring all of them. Instead, he reached out an unsteady hand and lightly touched Terry's cheek.
"He's been right here the whole time..."
**************************************
Living right in Gotham meant Mary McGinnis had less distance to cover. Less than ten minutes after they called her they heard two sets of feet pelting down the hall. Mary burst into the room a few seconds ahead of Matt, her bright hair uncharacteristically all over the place.
"Where is he?"
Bruce had gotten to his feet as soon as he heard the footsteps. She instinctively looked to him; he looked to the bed.
"Mrs. McGinnis- Mary- I should warn you," he began, but she just shook her head.
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne, but this won't be the first time I've seen Terry after he's lost a fight and I doubt it will be the last now," she responded with more spirit than she'd showed since the whole mess began. Then just as Bruce had a few minutes earlier, she stepped up to the bed, looked down, and froze. And just as she had two weeks before, she burst into tears; this time she actually threw her arms around Bruce and buried her head in his chest.
"He's alive," she sobbed. "Terry's alive!"
Bruce shot Tim and Barbara a look that, for him, bordered on pleading as he awkwardly patted her back. Barbara took pity on both of them and led Mary to the chair Bruce had abandoned. Matt, meanwhile, had come up to the bed and was standing on tiptoe trying to see. Bruce frowned for a second then, knowing he would pay for it later, picked him up.
"Whoa....." Matt gaped at his brother for a while before looking up at Bruce. "He's not just sleeping, is he?"
Bruce looked into the boy's clear brown eyes, trying to decide what to tell him. Eventually he settled on the truth.
"I'm afraid not."
"Will he wake up?"
"...I don't know."
"But he's still alive."
"Yes."
"Then he has to wake up."
Bruce sighed, envying Matt's naive certainty. For him, at least, the initial joy of finding Terry alive and, if not well, then at least in a safe place had already worn off. The list of injuries he'd seen in the hospital files had crept back into his mind, leaving him wondering if Terry wasn't just as lost to them now as he had been only an hour before. He knew Terry could linger like this for months, even years.
A doctor entered, breaking Bruce's chain of thought. He could swear he heard the nurse mutter something under her breath, but when she turned around she was the image of professional efficiency. The doctor looked to be the type who was never anything else. Dick would have said she'd been weaned on a pickle.
"What are all these people doing here, Maguire?"
"Sure and they're here to identify the poor wee lad now, Doctor Miller."
Bruce raised an eyebrow as the nurse's accent thickened dramatically. It didn't take a Great Detective to see there was bad blood between the two. Tim slipped up beside him, took Matt, and nodded toward the door. Bruce nodded back; Tim took the boy out of the room to avoid the upcoming unpleasantness. Only years of experience allowed him to keep a straight face as he heard Matt's departing comment.
"They're gonna have a catfight, aren't they, Mr. Drake?"
Dr. Miller sniffed but otherwise ignored that.
"I believe the rules state very clearly that the only people to be allowed in here are the police and the patient's family, Maguire. Since the boy has no family, perhaps you could explain why this room is so crowded."
Bruce was about to cut the officious woman down to size, but Barbara beat him to it. She flipped out her badge, smiling. Or at least her teeth were bared. Sometimes it was hard even for him to tell the difference.
"I'm Commissioner Barbara Gordon. I am the police."
"And these others?"
Mary, who had stopped crying and quickly tidied herself when the doctor came in, stood and stared her down.
"The boy certainly does have family, and we're it."
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To be continued (still)