Okay, more responses to reviews...
girl-gambit- Thanks for the nice words, but I didn't create the robot. That's Zeta, who first appeared on Batman Beyond before getting his own series. Ro is his sidekick and guide to passing for human. Technically, Zeta's called a synthoid, but the chapter is from Terry's point of view and since he'd only been awake for a day and a half, his mind wasn't back up to speed yet. His vocabulary was (and is) a bit scrambled. But only a bit- every now and then he'll use the wrong word for something, but not often enough for people to be worying about it.
Sailor Earth- Virgil and Richie will be back, as will Dick. Just not immediately.
myrddinowl- Actually security isn't that bad- the people sneaking in are pretty good at not getting caught unless the plot requires it.
And now, on with the show...
*************************************************************
It was some of the trickiest planning Bruce had ever done. Circumventing hospital rules, arranging schedules, making sure everyone could fulfill their assigned duties, and all for what should have been a trivial reason: getting Terry a decent Thanksgiving dinner. Tim had mentioned in passing that nobody should have to eat hospital food for Thanksgiving and Mary had immediately decided that they were going to smuggle in what she called "real food". Bruce still wasn't sure how he'd ended up taking charge of it; he hadn't intended to have any part of it. Not that he didn't agree with them, but it was all just so... silly.
*I suppose I just couldn't sit back and listen to Tim egging on Mary with her plans. She may be an excellent inventor, but she couldn't plan a pizza run.*
Bruce almost smiled. Mary's plans for smuggling dinner in to Terry had been more suited to a James Bond movie than to real life. None of her ideas had stood a chance of working. His own plan wasn't exactly simple- there were too many people involved for simple to be an option- but it would work. And he'd checked with Dr. Tikkainen to make sure that Terry could eat a traditional dinner. The doctor had looked at him, said that Terry could probably stand having a small group in to visit, and asked him to save some dark meat and a slice of pumpkin pie. He'd finished by mentioning that Dr. Miller would be in Missouri that weekend. That had been all Mary had needed to hear to turn a simple food-smuggling operation into a full-blown Thanksgiving meal in Terry's room. Bruce hadn't been able to convince her that it was a bad idea, so he'd done the next best thing: made sure that it was an efficient bad idea. He'd made contingency plans for everything from Blight reappearing to Dr. Miller coming back early and had been mildly surprised to find out that planning for a holiday could be more difficult than solving one of the Riddler's puzzles. He'd said as much to Tim, who had shot back, "You're only learning this now?"
But today was the day. Mary had been up bright and early to get the turkey started. Dalrymple, who had been invited as a matter of course, was bringing side dishes. Max, whose family was all doing their own thing, had been put in charge of desserts. Mad Stan, to Bruce's chagrin, had volunteered to bring drinks. And Bruce had been forbidden to do anything food-oriented by Mary, who had been instructed by Tim and Barbara. He'd been more amused than insulted, especially since he'd overheard some of the exaggerated stories they'd told her. Besides, he had more than enough to do just organizing the oncoming fiasco.
*And now we'll see how much of a disaster this will be...*
***********************************************
"Carefully on tiptoe stealing,/ Breathing gently as we may..."
Dalrymple sang softly as he crept through the hospital halls. Max shook her head.
"Hey, I know that show- they got caught at the end of the song! How about something a bit less, I don't know, unlucky?"
"A very salient point," Dalrymple conceded, then thought for a bit.
"Gently, gently-/ Evidently,/ We are safe so far..."
"Okay, okay, I give up!"
The two laughed, then quieted down as they approached the security guards at the end of the hall where Terry's room was. One guard looked at them, sniffed, and stifled a grin.
"I see nussink. I know nussink."
"No kidding," the other guard responded. "Don't you think we ought to search their bags to make sure they haven't smuggled in anything improper?"
"Yes," Dalrymple drawled, "after all, one should only smuggle in what is proper, no?"
Max just reached into one of the containers and handed each guard a pumpkin tartlet. The guards grinned and held the doors for Max and Dalrymple; they were familiar enough with each other to know they could fool around a bit.
On reaching Terry's room, they found that they were the last to arrive. Matt was chattering away to Terry; Mad Stan and Bruce were being careful about letting Mary find out how they felt about each other; Mary was arranging the table that had magically appeared in the room that morning; Terry was grinning at whatever Matt was telling him. The TV was on with the volume off, turned to the parades.
Terry's bed had been angled so that he could eat a bit more easily. Max was glad to see that, if only because it almost made him look as though he was sitting up.
"Hey, guys, join the party," he called on seeing them. "Don't tell me you brought more food!"
"Well, we can always take it away," Max grinned.
"No, that's okay, I'm sure we can fit it somewhere. So what did you bring?"
"I brought mashed potatoes with just the slightest touch of garlic and rosemary, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, green beans almondine, cranberry-orange relish, mixed pickles, and a mixed-green salad. For the salad I have obtained multiple dressings as I did not know which people would prefer."
Max blushed.
"Um, I brought a bunch of things, too."
"You cooked?" Matt stared at her.
"Not exactly. But I've got pumpkin tartlets, bowknots- those are kinda like rolls, but they're tied in a knot- um, apple pie, and I know Ma-uh, Mr. Lebowski was in charge of drinks, but I got hold of a gallon of fresh-pressed cider- well, it was pressed yesterday morning, anyway- and I couldn't resist bringing it."
"Fresh-pressed cider?" Mad Stan perked up. "Man, I haven't had that since I left home! I grew up on an organic orchard and I've really missed that stuff."
Max blinked. She could see Bruce storing the information away, although she couldn't begin to guess how he could use a fondness for fresh-pressed cider to help catch Mad Stan later. She could also see him him adding up the list of desserts and comparing them with what he knew about her cooking abilities, which were on a par with his. They were obviously home-made, too. She started to get nervous; she just knew he was going to ask where they came from. She'd never admitted to Mary that she couldn't cook, Matt thought she could do practically everything, Terry couldn't remember the one time he'd let her cook for him (which she hoped he'd never remember), and Mad Stan didn't know her well enough. Dalrymple had been there when the food had arrived and had promised not to tell, but Bruce... just gave her a look that promised questions at a later date. Max relaxed. Granted, she knew the questioning wouldn't be fun, but he wasn't going to fly of the handle just because she'd told CJ of her problem and had been bailed out. Then again, telling Bruce that her friend from jail had donated food to the cause- *I'm a dead girl.*
*************************************************
Stalker watched the odd group through the window and toyed with idea of popping in. He wouldn't, of course, but the idea did hold a certain appeal. He couldn't believe that Mad Stan had the effrontery to join in the festivities; but then, a man with a name like Mad Stan couldn't be expected to act with common sense. Stalker didn't worry about it. The Elder Bat could handle the idiot if he got out of hand. And if he couldn't, Stalker would step in. The Bat was his prey. Therefore it was his responsibility to make sure his prey was healthy in time for the hunt. That was just How It Was Done.
"Watching the boy again, Nigel? He's not exactly your type."
"Hello, Melissa. The boy has showed promise as a hunter. Someday he may be good prey."
Inque snorted.
"I'd say he's already been prey. The coma's a bit of a tip-off."
"Even a lion may be brought down by hyenas if there is a sufficient number of hyenas."
"Whatever. Looks like a party. He's awake?"
"Yes. You will not disturb them."
"Why would I? It wasn't my idea the last time. The boy isn't an issue, so I have no reason to care about him."
"Keep it that way."
"Whatever," Inque repeated. She sat next to Stalker for a few minutes, watching the feast. "Is that Mad Stan? I'd heard he found a girlfriend, but..."
"Yes."
Inque started to laugh.
"Oh, that's too good- Mad Stan's dating the mother of a kid who works for one of his worst enemies! And I thought little Miss Star-Crossed Lover was funny! No wonder the kid was in a coma- Bruce Wayne, you, Mad Stan, Blondie, Wheeler, Spellbinder, the Jokerz- he probably did it just to get some rest!"
Stalker tried to glare, but the truth of Inque's statement combined with what he knew about The Bat got his lips twitching as he concentrated on not laughing himself.
"But enough about the kid," Inque continued, swirling around Stalker. "It's a holiday today, and I know a very good way to celebrate. Interested?"
Stalker hesitated. An evening with Inque was always interesting, but he had a responsibility to his prey. On the other hand, with The Elder Bat, Mad Stan, and that dog on hand, The Bat was certainly well-protected.
"Melissa, you are a distraction."
"Glad to know I haven't lost my touch."
Stalker laughed softly and stood. Shaking himself free, he walked to the edge of the roof. He looked over his shoulder with a faint smile.
"The usual rules- if you can catch me..."
He leapt off. Inque shook her head but came after him, as he knew she would. She would never admit it, but she loved this part as much as he did, and almost as much as what came after.
***********************************************
Dana, against all her expectations, was enjoying herself hugely. Her Declaration of Independence has rocked her entire family, who was now trying to think of her as something other than Daddy's Little Girl. She herself was getting used to it, but then, she'd always knew she'd have to grow up someday. The rest of the family hadn't seemed to grasp that concept. Her father was furious, her mother was aghast, Aunt Lucy was livid, and her brother and sister were stunned. Her father's parents were outraged, being very traditionally minded. Her mother's parents, being more modern, were still surprised, but they at least approved of her display of backbone (as they put it). The others thought she was putting her boyfriend ahead of her family; a boyfriend that they disapproved of at best. Dana was surprised to find that she really didn't care, even though they were wrong. It wasn't about Terry; he was only the catalyst. She was just sick and tired of being the little princess, the fragile flower. She knew she was tougher than they wanted to believe and she was not going to live down to their expectations anymore. She'd already changed her major from the "safe" Teaching to what her family was whining about being a sure ticket to starving in a garret somewhere: Art History. She'd also signed up for classes in woodworking, pottery, and sculpture. And if they didn't work, she'd find something that did.
"-And you really think this dreg is gong to support you when you run out of money? That boy is nothing but-"
Dana tuned out again. Aunt Lucy had never even met Terry, so as far as Dana was concerned, she had no right to form an opinion at all, much less yammer on about it for fifteen minutes. Still, the fact that she had was kind of impressive. Boring to listen to, but impressive.
"All right, Lucy, you can shut up now," her mother said, bringing Dana's attention back to the gathering. Then she shocked Dana by repeating what she had just been thinking. "You've never even met the boy, so you don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about. As usual. I don't think he's the right boy for Dana, and I certainly don't think she should be choosing him over her family when she's still so young, but he's not that bad. He made a few mistakes when he was younger, but he's been trying to make up for them, and it hasn't been easy for him with people like you always trying to keep him down. But it's Thanksgiving. It's a holiday. We are having a family celebration and you will all stop harping on Dana and enjoy the food we've been working on all week. Keith, you will now say grace and you will not say a single word about Dana 'coming to her senses and leaving that lousy punk', as you so elegantly put it. And that goes for the rest of you as well. Anyone who doesn't like my rules is welcome to leave. Now."
Everyone stared at Phoebe Tan. She wasn't given to making long speeches- Dana had always thought it was because her father did enough pontificating for the whole family- and nobody knew what to make of her outburst. After a few seconds Aunt Lucy stood, obviously preparing to leave in a huff. But the second shock of the day hit then.
"Lucy Tan, you sit down right now," the elder Mrs. Tan snapped. "Phoebe is right. You have been very rude and you have no right to be angry that you have been called on it. You and Keith have acted abominably to a boy who has never done a thing to you."
"I am ashamed of both of you," the elder Mr. Tan added. "Perhaps Dana has been actingly badly in defying her parents' wishes, but that is no excuse for your own actions. And you were wrong to send her out of town. Perhaps that would have worked if she were five, but she is eighteen and a young lady."
Mrs. Kamelamela, Phoebe's mother, joined in.
"Besides, you could hardly expect her to drop him now, when he's recovering from that attack. What kind of person would dump a boyfriend who's in the hospital?"
"It's not like he'd remember her," Keith Tan muttered. His mother slapped him upside the head.
"That makes it worse."
"Can we please change the subject?" Dana's little sister Ellen was rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I mean, I'm sorry Terry's hurt even if I don't like him much 'cause he's always flaking on Dana, but why is everything revolving around him lately? It's Dana's business if she wants to waste time on him after he gets better, but yeah, dumping him now would be kinda tacky. I think anyone with half a brain would agree with that, so can we talk about something else now?"
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence, during which Dana realised she was going to have to revise some opinions of her own about her family. Finally, Mr. Kamelamela spoke.
"So, how about them Red Sox?"
"They suck," the whole family chorused, then laughed harder than the old family joke deserved. However, the tension had finally broken and they moved on to other, less controversial topics of conversation.
*************************************************
Terry was a bit tired, but he was enjoying himself. The food was better than anything he'd had in the hospital so far. He'd commented that it was the best meal he could remember, then had a cheap laugh at Max's expense as she choked on her drink. Mr. Lebowski and Matt had thought it was funny too, and Mr. Dalrymple had chuckled, but his mother had rolled her eyes and Mr. Wayne had given him an exasperated look.
Suddenly Max choked a second time as something on the TV caught her eye. Matt turned to look, then gave a whoop.
"Schway! Where's he been, anyway?"
Terry turned up the volume with a familar feeling that he was missing something important. As the news continued, everyone was glued to the screen, stunned.
"-And as you can see, the nearly month-long absence hasn't slowed down Gotham's favorite vigilante as he joins in Gotham's favorite new fad- bashing the Jokerz. Of course, since he did that before The Attack, I guess that makes him a trend-setter, right, Jane?"
"That's right, John. Well, whatever kept him away, he's certainly back on form. And a very nice form it is..."
*Something's wrong. Something is really, really wrong.*
His mother looked shocked. Bruce was gaping; Terry hadn't thought anything could break his composure. Max was still spluttering, obviously wanting to say something that she thought she shouldn't. Mr. Dalrymple looked disturbed. Only Mr. Lebowski and Matt didn't look out of sorts. If anything, Matt was happy about the news. Mr. Lebowski just nodded, unsurprised.
"I knew he'd be back. Whatever kept him away couldn't last forever. I don't like the guy much, but I've always admired his guts. Gotta respect a guy who's ready to lay it all on the line for what he believes, even if you don't agree with him."
Mary shot Mr. Lebowski a grateful look; Bruce shot him a thoughtful one. Then Bruce turned his attention back to the TV, now showing the parades again.
"Well," the Old Man said in a voice that sounded like imminent doom, "Isn't that interesting..."
***********************************************
This chapter written to the music of Great Big Sea, John Denver and The Muppets, Handel, and The Chieftains and guests.
girl-gambit- Thanks for the nice words, but I didn't create the robot. That's Zeta, who first appeared on Batman Beyond before getting his own series. Ro is his sidekick and guide to passing for human. Technically, Zeta's called a synthoid, but the chapter is from Terry's point of view and since he'd only been awake for a day and a half, his mind wasn't back up to speed yet. His vocabulary was (and is) a bit scrambled. But only a bit- every now and then he'll use the wrong word for something, but not often enough for people to be worying about it.
Sailor Earth- Virgil and Richie will be back, as will Dick. Just not immediately.
myrddinowl- Actually security isn't that bad- the people sneaking in are pretty good at not getting caught unless the plot requires it.
And now, on with the show...
*************************************************************
It was some of the trickiest planning Bruce had ever done. Circumventing hospital rules, arranging schedules, making sure everyone could fulfill their assigned duties, and all for what should have been a trivial reason: getting Terry a decent Thanksgiving dinner. Tim had mentioned in passing that nobody should have to eat hospital food for Thanksgiving and Mary had immediately decided that they were going to smuggle in what she called "real food". Bruce still wasn't sure how he'd ended up taking charge of it; he hadn't intended to have any part of it. Not that he didn't agree with them, but it was all just so... silly.
*I suppose I just couldn't sit back and listen to Tim egging on Mary with her plans. She may be an excellent inventor, but she couldn't plan a pizza run.*
Bruce almost smiled. Mary's plans for smuggling dinner in to Terry had been more suited to a James Bond movie than to real life. None of her ideas had stood a chance of working. His own plan wasn't exactly simple- there were too many people involved for simple to be an option- but it would work. And he'd checked with Dr. Tikkainen to make sure that Terry could eat a traditional dinner. The doctor had looked at him, said that Terry could probably stand having a small group in to visit, and asked him to save some dark meat and a slice of pumpkin pie. He'd finished by mentioning that Dr. Miller would be in Missouri that weekend. That had been all Mary had needed to hear to turn a simple food-smuggling operation into a full-blown Thanksgiving meal in Terry's room. Bruce hadn't been able to convince her that it was a bad idea, so he'd done the next best thing: made sure that it was an efficient bad idea. He'd made contingency plans for everything from Blight reappearing to Dr. Miller coming back early and had been mildly surprised to find out that planning for a holiday could be more difficult than solving one of the Riddler's puzzles. He'd said as much to Tim, who had shot back, "You're only learning this now?"
But today was the day. Mary had been up bright and early to get the turkey started. Dalrymple, who had been invited as a matter of course, was bringing side dishes. Max, whose family was all doing their own thing, had been put in charge of desserts. Mad Stan, to Bruce's chagrin, had volunteered to bring drinks. And Bruce had been forbidden to do anything food-oriented by Mary, who had been instructed by Tim and Barbara. He'd been more amused than insulted, especially since he'd overheard some of the exaggerated stories they'd told her. Besides, he had more than enough to do just organizing the oncoming fiasco.
*And now we'll see how much of a disaster this will be...*
***********************************************
"Carefully on tiptoe stealing,/ Breathing gently as we may..."
Dalrymple sang softly as he crept through the hospital halls. Max shook her head.
"Hey, I know that show- they got caught at the end of the song! How about something a bit less, I don't know, unlucky?"
"A very salient point," Dalrymple conceded, then thought for a bit.
"Gently, gently-/ Evidently,/ We are safe so far..."
"Okay, okay, I give up!"
The two laughed, then quieted down as they approached the security guards at the end of the hall where Terry's room was. One guard looked at them, sniffed, and stifled a grin.
"I see nussink. I know nussink."
"No kidding," the other guard responded. "Don't you think we ought to search their bags to make sure they haven't smuggled in anything improper?"
"Yes," Dalrymple drawled, "after all, one should only smuggle in what is proper, no?"
Max just reached into one of the containers and handed each guard a pumpkin tartlet. The guards grinned and held the doors for Max and Dalrymple; they were familiar enough with each other to know they could fool around a bit.
On reaching Terry's room, they found that they were the last to arrive. Matt was chattering away to Terry; Mad Stan and Bruce were being careful about letting Mary find out how they felt about each other; Mary was arranging the table that had magically appeared in the room that morning; Terry was grinning at whatever Matt was telling him. The TV was on with the volume off, turned to the parades.
Terry's bed had been angled so that he could eat a bit more easily. Max was glad to see that, if only because it almost made him look as though he was sitting up.
"Hey, guys, join the party," he called on seeing them. "Don't tell me you brought more food!"
"Well, we can always take it away," Max grinned.
"No, that's okay, I'm sure we can fit it somewhere. So what did you bring?"
"I brought mashed potatoes with just the slightest touch of garlic and rosemary, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, green beans almondine, cranberry-orange relish, mixed pickles, and a mixed-green salad. For the salad I have obtained multiple dressings as I did not know which people would prefer."
Max blushed.
"Um, I brought a bunch of things, too."
"You cooked?" Matt stared at her.
"Not exactly. But I've got pumpkin tartlets, bowknots- those are kinda like rolls, but they're tied in a knot- um, apple pie, and I know Ma-uh, Mr. Lebowski was in charge of drinks, but I got hold of a gallon of fresh-pressed cider- well, it was pressed yesterday morning, anyway- and I couldn't resist bringing it."
"Fresh-pressed cider?" Mad Stan perked up. "Man, I haven't had that since I left home! I grew up on an organic orchard and I've really missed that stuff."
Max blinked. She could see Bruce storing the information away, although she couldn't begin to guess how he could use a fondness for fresh-pressed cider to help catch Mad Stan later. She could also see him him adding up the list of desserts and comparing them with what he knew about her cooking abilities, which were on a par with his. They were obviously home-made, too. She started to get nervous; she just knew he was going to ask where they came from. She'd never admitted to Mary that she couldn't cook, Matt thought she could do practically everything, Terry couldn't remember the one time he'd let her cook for him (which she hoped he'd never remember), and Mad Stan didn't know her well enough. Dalrymple had been there when the food had arrived and had promised not to tell, but Bruce... just gave her a look that promised questions at a later date. Max relaxed. Granted, she knew the questioning wouldn't be fun, but he wasn't going to fly of the handle just because she'd told CJ of her problem and had been bailed out. Then again, telling Bruce that her friend from jail had donated food to the cause- *I'm a dead girl.*
*************************************************
Stalker watched the odd group through the window and toyed with idea of popping in. He wouldn't, of course, but the idea did hold a certain appeal. He couldn't believe that Mad Stan had the effrontery to join in the festivities; but then, a man with a name like Mad Stan couldn't be expected to act with common sense. Stalker didn't worry about it. The Elder Bat could handle the idiot if he got out of hand. And if he couldn't, Stalker would step in. The Bat was his prey. Therefore it was his responsibility to make sure his prey was healthy in time for the hunt. That was just How It Was Done.
"Watching the boy again, Nigel? He's not exactly your type."
"Hello, Melissa. The boy has showed promise as a hunter. Someday he may be good prey."
Inque snorted.
"I'd say he's already been prey. The coma's a bit of a tip-off."
"Even a lion may be brought down by hyenas if there is a sufficient number of hyenas."
"Whatever. Looks like a party. He's awake?"
"Yes. You will not disturb them."
"Why would I? It wasn't my idea the last time. The boy isn't an issue, so I have no reason to care about him."
"Keep it that way."
"Whatever," Inque repeated. She sat next to Stalker for a few minutes, watching the feast. "Is that Mad Stan? I'd heard he found a girlfriend, but..."
"Yes."
Inque started to laugh.
"Oh, that's too good- Mad Stan's dating the mother of a kid who works for one of his worst enemies! And I thought little Miss Star-Crossed Lover was funny! No wonder the kid was in a coma- Bruce Wayne, you, Mad Stan, Blondie, Wheeler, Spellbinder, the Jokerz- he probably did it just to get some rest!"
Stalker tried to glare, but the truth of Inque's statement combined with what he knew about The Bat got his lips twitching as he concentrated on not laughing himself.
"But enough about the kid," Inque continued, swirling around Stalker. "It's a holiday today, and I know a very good way to celebrate. Interested?"
Stalker hesitated. An evening with Inque was always interesting, but he had a responsibility to his prey. On the other hand, with The Elder Bat, Mad Stan, and that dog on hand, The Bat was certainly well-protected.
"Melissa, you are a distraction."
"Glad to know I haven't lost my touch."
Stalker laughed softly and stood. Shaking himself free, he walked to the edge of the roof. He looked over his shoulder with a faint smile.
"The usual rules- if you can catch me..."
He leapt off. Inque shook her head but came after him, as he knew she would. She would never admit it, but she loved this part as much as he did, and almost as much as what came after.
***********************************************
Dana, against all her expectations, was enjoying herself hugely. Her Declaration of Independence has rocked her entire family, who was now trying to think of her as something other than Daddy's Little Girl. She herself was getting used to it, but then, she'd always knew she'd have to grow up someday. The rest of the family hadn't seemed to grasp that concept. Her father was furious, her mother was aghast, Aunt Lucy was livid, and her brother and sister were stunned. Her father's parents were outraged, being very traditionally minded. Her mother's parents, being more modern, were still surprised, but they at least approved of her display of backbone (as they put it). The others thought she was putting her boyfriend ahead of her family; a boyfriend that they disapproved of at best. Dana was surprised to find that she really didn't care, even though they were wrong. It wasn't about Terry; he was only the catalyst. She was just sick and tired of being the little princess, the fragile flower. She knew she was tougher than they wanted to believe and she was not going to live down to their expectations anymore. She'd already changed her major from the "safe" Teaching to what her family was whining about being a sure ticket to starving in a garret somewhere: Art History. She'd also signed up for classes in woodworking, pottery, and sculpture. And if they didn't work, she'd find something that did.
"-And you really think this dreg is gong to support you when you run out of money? That boy is nothing but-"
Dana tuned out again. Aunt Lucy had never even met Terry, so as far as Dana was concerned, she had no right to form an opinion at all, much less yammer on about it for fifteen minutes. Still, the fact that she had was kind of impressive. Boring to listen to, but impressive.
"All right, Lucy, you can shut up now," her mother said, bringing Dana's attention back to the gathering. Then she shocked Dana by repeating what she had just been thinking. "You've never even met the boy, so you don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about. As usual. I don't think he's the right boy for Dana, and I certainly don't think she should be choosing him over her family when she's still so young, but he's not that bad. He made a few mistakes when he was younger, but he's been trying to make up for them, and it hasn't been easy for him with people like you always trying to keep him down. But it's Thanksgiving. It's a holiday. We are having a family celebration and you will all stop harping on Dana and enjoy the food we've been working on all week. Keith, you will now say grace and you will not say a single word about Dana 'coming to her senses and leaving that lousy punk', as you so elegantly put it. And that goes for the rest of you as well. Anyone who doesn't like my rules is welcome to leave. Now."
Everyone stared at Phoebe Tan. She wasn't given to making long speeches- Dana had always thought it was because her father did enough pontificating for the whole family- and nobody knew what to make of her outburst. After a few seconds Aunt Lucy stood, obviously preparing to leave in a huff. But the second shock of the day hit then.
"Lucy Tan, you sit down right now," the elder Mrs. Tan snapped. "Phoebe is right. You have been very rude and you have no right to be angry that you have been called on it. You and Keith have acted abominably to a boy who has never done a thing to you."
"I am ashamed of both of you," the elder Mr. Tan added. "Perhaps Dana has been actingly badly in defying her parents' wishes, but that is no excuse for your own actions. And you were wrong to send her out of town. Perhaps that would have worked if she were five, but she is eighteen and a young lady."
Mrs. Kamelamela, Phoebe's mother, joined in.
"Besides, you could hardly expect her to drop him now, when he's recovering from that attack. What kind of person would dump a boyfriend who's in the hospital?"
"It's not like he'd remember her," Keith Tan muttered. His mother slapped him upside the head.
"That makes it worse."
"Can we please change the subject?" Dana's little sister Ellen was rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I mean, I'm sorry Terry's hurt even if I don't like him much 'cause he's always flaking on Dana, but why is everything revolving around him lately? It's Dana's business if she wants to waste time on him after he gets better, but yeah, dumping him now would be kinda tacky. I think anyone with half a brain would agree with that, so can we talk about something else now?"
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence, during which Dana realised she was going to have to revise some opinions of her own about her family. Finally, Mr. Kamelamela spoke.
"So, how about them Red Sox?"
"They suck," the whole family chorused, then laughed harder than the old family joke deserved. However, the tension had finally broken and they moved on to other, less controversial topics of conversation.
*************************************************
Terry was a bit tired, but he was enjoying himself. The food was better than anything he'd had in the hospital so far. He'd commented that it was the best meal he could remember, then had a cheap laugh at Max's expense as she choked on her drink. Mr. Lebowski and Matt had thought it was funny too, and Mr. Dalrymple had chuckled, but his mother had rolled her eyes and Mr. Wayne had given him an exasperated look.
Suddenly Max choked a second time as something on the TV caught her eye. Matt turned to look, then gave a whoop.
"Schway! Where's he been, anyway?"
Terry turned up the volume with a familar feeling that he was missing something important. As the news continued, everyone was glued to the screen, stunned.
"-And as you can see, the nearly month-long absence hasn't slowed down Gotham's favorite vigilante as he joins in Gotham's favorite new fad- bashing the Jokerz. Of course, since he did that before The Attack, I guess that makes him a trend-setter, right, Jane?"
"That's right, John. Well, whatever kept him away, he's certainly back on form. And a very nice form it is..."
*Something's wrong. Something is really, really wrong.*
His mother looked shocked. Bruce was gaping; Terry hadn't thought anything could break his composure. Max was still spluttering, obviously wanting to say something that she thought she shouldn't. Mr. Dalrymple looked disturbed. Only Mr. Lebowski and Matt didn't look out of sorts. If anything, Matt was happy about the news. Mr. Lebowski just nodded, unsurprised.
"I knew he'd be back. Whatever kept him away couldn't last forever. I don't like the guy much, but I've always admired his guts. Gotta respect a guy who's ready to lay it all on the line for what he believes, even if you don't agree with him."
Mary shot Mr. Lebowski a grateful look; Bruce shot him a thoughtful one. Then Bruce turned his attention back to the TV, now showing the parades again.
"Well," the Old Man said in a voice that sounded like imminent doom, "Isn't that interesting..."
***********************************************
This chapter written to the music of Great Big Sea, John Denver and The Muppets, Handel, and The Chieftains and guests.