*******************************************************
Celia Moncreiffe looked at her watch for the fifth time in two minutes. The woman speaking was the type who thought that being a VP meant being to important to bother being polite to a mere executive assistant, even if that EA was Bruce Wayne's. Lina Tarbox was a holdover from the bad old days of Derek and Paxton Powers and didn't seem to realise that the sort of business practices that had been almost company policy under those two wouldn't be tolerated by Wayne. Hence her temper tantrum; some of her pet projects had been shut down by Wayne and she wanted an explanation. Celia knew that any number of projects were about to be shut down, projects like Ms. Tarbox's, but she wasn't saying a word. Ms. Tarbox would find out soon enough- that was what the meeting was about.
Celia was a bit surprised that Mr. Wayne wasn't there yet. Granted, these days he always spent lunch at the hospital visiting the McGinnis boy, and the meeting was scheduled for the time he usually returned, but she thought that under the circumstances he would have left a few minutes early. She knew he disliked people being late to meetings, so it was odd that he'd do it himself- especially to a meeting he'd called. Almost everyone else had arrived, since the meeting was due to start in ten minutes.
She set her face in polite listening mode and started trying to review her grocery list. She was on her third repetition of "chocolate"- she always added an extra thing of chocolate when one of the VP's said something particularly pointy-haired- when her phone rang. Ms. Tarbox glared at her, making a comment that Celia didn't hear and didn't want to. She merely said a pointed hello to Mr. Wayne, who was the caller. Listening to his news and instructions, she had a very hard time keeping a professional demeanor. When he finished, she calmly put her phone away, then stood and addressed the assembled VPs.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid today's meeting is postponed until tomorrow at three. Terry McGinnis seems to be waking up-" a murmur ran around the room- "-and since it was Mr. Wayne to whom he first responded, the doctors think it would be beneficial for Mr. Wayne to stay until they could be sure of the extent of his recovery."
"Oh, for God's sake!" Ms. Tarbox snapped. "You mean we have to put our work on hold again? Doesn't he realise we have more important things to do than wait around for some kid who-"
"Shut up, Lina," a man said quietly. Kenji Donleavy, the VP in charge of Marketing, glared at her. "We all know your opinion of Terry, and let me tell you, it's gotten old. I'm not a big fan of the kid myself, but I think it speaks very highly of Mr. Wayne that he'd go to so much trouble for an employee. And it won't kill any of us to wait one more day."
"Well, I think it's good news," Bill Gustafsen retorted. "He's a good kid and I'm glad he's getting better. And you probably better get used to the idea of him being around again, because as soon as he's declared safe to work you better believe he'll be back."
"Oh, I don't know," Ms. Tarbox smirked. "Sounds like a good time to ease him out the door. Mr. Wayne must have realised by now that he can get along without that dreg; he can just put the kid on disability and not have to bother with him again. Unless he has... other reasons for wanting him up and around."
It was pure coincidence that the coffeepot slipped out of Celia's hand at that moment, shattering on the table and splashing Ms. Tarbox's new cream wool suit. At least, that what she claimed every time someone asked her about it.
******************************************************
Across Gotham, Dana Tan's Introductory Psych class was disrupted by a shriek. Max, who had been called to watch Matt when Mary had gotten the call from the hospital, had hacked into Dana's computer and sent her the message as a pop-up. Dana spent the next ten minutes apologizing and explaining, and the rest of the class flushing every time someone looked at her.
******************************************************
Mad Stan dropped the Joker he'd been pummeling. He didn't normally carry a phone around- the goverment could trace him too easily that way- but for the past few days he'd made an exception. He was waiting for a particular call.
"Oh, hi, honey. -No, nothing really important. So why'd you call?"
A Joker took a swing at him; he ducked easily and swung back. The Joker went down with a bloody nose.
"Really? Oh, Hon, that's great! Is he- oh, not yet? But sometime today? Well, you be sure to call as soon as you know anything for sure, okay? -Okay. Bye, Hon."
He put his phone away, then turned to face the Jokerz. There were four still standing and they decided to rush him. With a whoop of feral joy, he dove into them. His Mary's son was getting better, which called for a celebration, and what better way to celebrate than beating the snot out of a bunch of Jokerz? Life was good.
******************************************************
Bruce had become very skilled at not reacting to Mary's relationship with a man who had tried to blow up most of Gotham at one point or another. Still, hearing Mad Stan being called "Sweetie" was amusing in a disturbing way.
They sat on either side of Terry, each holding a hand. Mary held the boy's hand as gingerly as Bruce has the first time; his hand was almost healed, but she didn't want to take any chances. Around them, a handful of doctors and nurses were watching the monitors, watching Terry, watching each other...
"Now, we can't be sure of how long he'll be awake for this first time," Dr. Tikkainen was saying. "He may just wake up for a few seconds, or he may wake up for several hours. A few seconds is more likely, but much longer periods aren't unheard of. You're probably sick of hearing this, but please remember he's recuperating from a brain injury as well as the rest of it. Try to keep any conversations calm and non-stressful. Of course, we don't know what he'd consider stressful at this point, but I still have to say that. And there will be some side-effects, but by now you probably know them better than me."
"Probably," Mary smiled tremulously. "Altered personality, various degrees of amnesia, seizures, short- and long-term memory problems... Yes, I think I've got a pretty clear idea."
"Not all of them together, I should imagine. And he could make an almost complete recovery. I'd say a complete recovery, but the odds are that he'll always be missing the stretch of time around when he... acquired the injury. Maybe only a few hours, but he could lose up to a week beforehand."
Dr. Tikkainen looked like he was about to say more, but instead broke off and looked sharply at Terry. All eyes followed his; sure enough, there was a faint twitching of Terry's eyelashes. It became more pronounced as they watched. The only sound in the room now was the quiet hums and beeps of the monitors. Even the doctors were holding their breath- they'd all seen enough unhappy endings to know how easily this could have gone wrong. The fact that it hadn't- yet- was giving them a great deal of satisfaction, if not outright glee.
Terry's eyes fluttered open. Everyone in the room seemed to start breathing again, all at once. A distant part of Bruce's mind noted that in other circumstances Terry would have laughed himself sick over that. Dr. Tikkainen leaned over Terry, being careful to talk very clearly, but not loudly.
"Terry, I'm a doctor. I need to check the reaction of your eyes. I'm not going to hurt you- although having a bright light in your eyes probably isn't your idea of fun. Right, good reactions, don't see any problems there.. and I'm done."
Terry blinked, a faintly confused expression on his face. He tried to move, obviously noticed that it was a bad idea, then looked around the room. Bruce frowned, noticing that Terry's eyes passed over both his mother and Bruce with no more interest than he gave the doctors. Terry blinked again, licked his lips, and spoke.
"Hospital," he said softly, but with certainty.
"Yes, you're in a hospital," Dr. Tikkainen said. "You've been rather badly injured, I'm afraid, but you're well on the road to recovery already."
Terry's lips twitched faintly upward in an eerie replica of Bruce's own smile.
"Good. What... happened?"
There was a momentary silence. Bruce broke it.
"That's not important right now."
Terry looked over at him. Bruce could see wheels turning, could see Terry struggling to bring his brain back on-line.
"All...right. Must have... been... hellofa...fight."
Mary made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.
"Oh, Terry, you haven't changed a bit!"
Bruce caught a flicker in Terry's eyes. Something was wrong.
"That a... good thing?"
"Well, I think so. But then, I'm your mother, so I guess I have to think that, don't I?"
There was that flicker again.
"Guess so. Be awkward... if you didn't."
The doctors were milling about, looking at the monitors again and trying to discreetly examine Terry. He looked at them evenly.
"How bad?"
Bruce, Mary, and Dr. Tikkainen exchanged a look. Terry frowned.
"How. Bad. Is. It."
Again it fell to Bruce to break the silence.
"It could have been worse. You're alive and after physical therapy you'll be walking again. The prognosis for a full physical recovery is very good."
Terry was quiet for a few minutes, thinking. Bruce had already noticed the question he hadn't asked; he wondered if Terry already had the answer.
"Terry," he asked, "Do you know who I am?"
Terry gave him another look, but not the one Bruce had been hoping for. Mary's breath caught, and the doctors paused as they waited for the answer.
"My... grandfather?"
Bruce closed his eyes, a cold feeling seeping into his bones. He could hear the doctors murmuring frantically amongst themselves and Mary's soft moan. Then he heard Terry's quiet remark.
"Guess that wasn't... it, was it."
*****************************************************
And you thought you'd be getting a happy ending, didn't you? Told you this was going to be long...
Celia Moncreiffe looked at her watch for the fifth time in two minutes. The woman speaking was the type who thought that being a VP meant being to important to bother being polite to a mere executive assistant, even if that EA was Bruce Wayne's. Lina Tarbox was a holdover from the bad old days of Derek and Paxton Powers and didn't seem to realise that the sort of business practices that had been almost company policy under those two wouldn't be tolerated by Wayne. Hence her temper tantrum; some of her pet projects had been shut down by Wayne and she wanted an explanation. Celia knew that any number of projects were about to be shut down, projects like Ms. Tarbox's, but she wasn't saying a word. Ms. Tarbox would find out soon enough- that was what the meeting was about.
Celia was a bit surprised that Mr. Wayne wasn't there yet. Granted, these days he always spent lunch at the hospital visiting the McGinnis boy, and the meeting was scheduled for the time he usually returned, but she thought that under the circumstances he would have left a few minutes early. She knew he disliked people being late to meetings, so it was odd that he'd do it himself- especially to a meeting he'd called. Almost everyone else had arrived, since the meeting was due to start in ten minutes.
She set her face in polite listening mode and started trying to review her grocery list. She was on her third repetition of "chocolate"- she always added an extra thing of chocolate when one of the VP's said something particularly pointy-haired- when her phone rang. Ms. Tarbox glared at her, making a comment that Celia didn't hear and didn't want to. She merely said a pointed hello to Mr. Wayne, who was the caller. Listening to his news and instructions, she had a very hard time keeping a professional demeanor. When he finished, she calmly put her phone away, then stood and addressed the assembled VPs.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid today's meeting is postponed until tomorrow at three. Terry McGinnis seems to be waking up-" a murmur ran around the room- "-and since it was Mr. Wayne to whom he first responded, the doctors think it would be beneficial for Mr. Wayne to stay until they could be sure of the extent of his recovery."
"Oh, for God's sake!" Ms. Tarbox snapped. "You mean we have to put our work on hold again? Doesn't he realise we have more important things to do than wait around for some kid who-"
"Shut up, Lina," a man said quietly. Kenji Donleavy, the VP in charge of Marketing, glared at her. "We all know your opinion of Terry, and let me tell you, it's gotten old. I'm not a big fan of the kid myself, but I think it speaks very highly of Mr. Wayne that he'd go to so much trouble for an employee. And it won't kill any of us to wait one more day."
"Well, I think it's good news," Bill Gustafsen retorted. "He's a good kid and I'm glad he's getting better. And you probably better get used to the idea of him being around again, because as soon as he's declared safe to work you better believe he'll be back."
"Oh, I don't know," Ms. Tarbox smirked. "Sounds like a good time to ease him out the door. Mr. Wayne must have realised by now that he can get along without that dreg; he can just put the kid on disability and not have to bother with him again. Unless he has... other reasons for wanting him up and around."
It was pure coincidence that the coffeepot slipped out of Celia's hand at that moment, shattering on the table and splashing Ms. Tarbox's new cream wool suit. At least, that what she claimed every time someone asked her about it.
******************************************************
Across Gotham, Dana Tan's Introductory Psych class was disrupted by a shriek. Max, who had been called to watch Matt when Mary had gotten the call from the hospital, had hacked into Dana's computer and sent her the message as a pop-up. Dana spent the next ten minutes apologizing and explaining, and the rest of the class flushing every time someone looked at her.
******************************************************
Mad Stan dropped the Joker he'd been pummeling. He didn't normally carry a phone around- the goverment could trace him too easily that way- but for the past few days he'd made an exception. He was waiting for a particular call.
"Oh, hi, honey. -No, nothing really important. So why'd you call?"
A Joker took a swing at him; he ducked easily and swung back. The Joker went down with a bloody nose.
"Really? Oh, Hon, that's great! Is he- oh, not yet? But sometime today? Well, you be sure to call as soon as you know anything for sure, okay? -Okay. Bye, Hon."
He put his phone away, then turned to face the Jokerz. There were four still standing and they decided to rush him. With a whoop of feral joy, he dove into them. His Mary's son was getting better, which called for a celebration, and what better way to celebrate than beating the snot out of a bunch of Jokerz? Life was good.
******************************************************
Bruce had become very skilled at not reacting to Mary's relationship with a man who had tried to blow up most of Gotham at one point or another. Still, hearing Mad Stan being called "Sweetie" was amusing in a disturbing way.
They sat on either side of Terry, each holding a hand. Mary held the boy's hand as gingerly as Bruce has the first time; his hand was almost healed, but she didn't want to take any chances. Around them, a handful of doctors and nurses were watching the monitors, watching Terry, watching each other...
"Now, we can't be sure of how long he'll be awake for this first time," Dr. Tikkainen was saying. "He may just wake up for a few seconds, or he may wake up for several hours. A few seconds is more likely, but much longer periods aren't unheard of. You're probably sick of hearing this, but please remember he's recuperating from a brain injury as well as the rest of it. Try to keep any conversations calm and non-stressful. Of course, we don't know what he'd consider stressful at this point, but I still have to say that. And there will be some side-effects, but by now you probably know them better than me."
"Probably," Mary smiled tremulously. "Altered personality, various degrees of amnesia, seizures, short- and long-term memory problems... Yes, I think I've got a pretty clear idea."
"Not all of them together, I should imagine. And he could make an almost complete recovery. I'd say a complete recovery, but the odds are that he'll always be missing the stretch of time around when he... acquired the injury. Maybe only a few hours, but he could lose up to a week beforehand."
Dr. Tikkainen looked like he was about to say more, but instead broke off and looked sharply at Terry. All eyes followed his; sure enough, there was a faint twitching of Terry's eyelashes. It became more pronounced as they watched. The only sound in the room now was the quiet hums and beeps of the monitors. Even the doctors were holding their breath- they'd all seen enough unhappy endings to know how easily this could have gone wrong. The fact that it hadn't- yet- was giving them a great deal of satisfaction, if not outright glee.
Terry's eyes fluttered open. Everyone in the room seemed to start breathing again, all at once. A distant part of Bruce's mind noted that in other circumstances Terry would have laughed himself sick over that. Dr. Tikkainen leaned over Terry, being careful to talk very clearly, but not loudly.
"Terry, I'm a doctor. I need to check the reaction of your eyes. I'm not going to hurt you- although having a bright light in your eyes probably isn't your idea of fun. Right, good reactions, don't see any problems there.. and I'm done."
Terry blinked, a faintly confused expression on his face. He tried to move, obviously noticed that it was a bad idea, then looked around the room. Bruce frowned, noticing that Terry's eyes passed over both his mother and Bruce with no more interest than he gave the doctors. Terry blinked again, licked his lips, and spoke.
"Hospital," he said softly, but with certainty.
"Yes, you're in a hospital," Dr. Tikkainen said. "You've been rather badly injured, I'm afraid, but you're well on the road to recovery already."
Terry's lips twitched faintly upward in an eerie replica of Bruce's own smile.
"Good. What... happened?"
There was a momentary silence. Bruce broke it.
"That's not important right now."
Terry looked over at him. Bruce could see wheels turning, could see Terry struggling to bring his brain back on-line.
"All...right. Must have... been... hellofa...fight."
Mary made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.
"Oh, Terry, you haven't changed a bit!"
Bruce caught a flicker in Terry's eyes. Something was wrong.
"That a... good thing?"
"Well, I think so. But then, I'm your mother, so I guess I have to think that, don't I?"
There was that flicker again.
"Guess so. Be awkward... if you didn't."
The doctors were milling about, looking at the monitors again and trying to discreetly examine Terry. He looked at them evenly.
"How bad?"
Bruce, Mary, and Dr. Tikkainen exchanged a look. Terry frowned.
"How. Bad. Is. It."
Again it fell to Bruce to break the silence.
"It could have been worse. You're alive and after physical therapy you'll be walking again. The prognosis for a full physical recovery is very good."
Terry was quiet for a few minutes, thinking. Bruce had already noticed the question he hadn't asked; he wondered if Terry already had the answer.
"Terry," he asked, "Do you know who I am?"
Terry gave him another look, but not the one Bruce had been hoping for. Mary's breath caught, and the doctors paused as they waited for the answer.
"My... grandfather?"
Bruce closed his eyes, a cold feeling seeping into his bones. He could hear the doctors murmuring frantically amongst themselves and Mary's soft moan. Then he heard Terry's quiet remark.
"Guess that wasn't... it, was it."
*****************************************************
And you thought you'd be getting a happy ending, didn't you? Told you this was going to be long...