Any questions were answered (or avoided) when I fixed what that damnfool editor
did to my last chapter. Or partly fixed, anyway; it still removed my scene breaks
and the symbols I used to mark thoughts. With any luck, I'll have them this time.
If not, well, there's only two scenes in this chapter anyway.
will indicate thoughts if that damnfool editor doesn't kill them.
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It was a dark night, but definitely not stormy. In fact, it was clear and unseasonably cold. Most people were huddled in whatever shelter they could find, grateful not to be out in the single-digit weather.
Most people did not include the shadowy form that slipped through the closed window if the hospital, then re-formed itself into a shapely woman. Silently, she slipped up to the bed, not wanting to wake the sleeping young man. She looked down at him.
So young... How come I never noticed? God knows I got close enough to him. All right, I knew he was young. I just didn't realise... He couldn't have been more than sixteen when we first met. I almost killed a boy young enough to be my son.
Inque wasn't a deep thinker, and certainly not given to contemplating her own morality, or lack thereof. However, the weeks of watching Stalker watch this boy had led her to a conclusion that had forced her to set aside her usual callousness. Stalker was deeply interested in this boy; interested enough that he would sit and watch his room for hours on end. He had claimed that the boy would one day be his prey, and that he alone had the right of the kill. Inque had shrugged that off at first, regarding it as another one of her sometime-lover's quirks. But after a while, she had begun to wonder what made this boy so special. She'd checked up on the boy's history and hadn't found anything surprising, other than the fact that he had somehow managed not only to get the infamously reclusive Bruce Wayne to hire him, but also got the old man to take back his family's company. It was impressive, especially for a kid with a record, but not enough to warrant the kind of attention Stalker was giving him.
Inque wasn't a deep thinker, but she wasn't stupid. Only one other person had caught Stalker's attention in that way- a person who had suddenly vanished from the public eye just after this boy was attacked. All right, there had been a few sightings, but the ones around Halloween were easily explained and she knew the Batman wandering around at the moment wasn't the one she'd fought. She'd watched him for a while, hoping he wouldn't interfere with her latest job; he didn't move right, he had no Batmobile, and he didn't sound right. The voice was the same, but it just didn't sound like him.
When the idea had first occurred to her, she'd shrugged it off. Then she had compared her memories of Batman to the boy in the bed. The height and build were about right, but she knew that wasn't proof. She knew she wasn't going to get a chance to see him fighting any time soon, so at first she'd thought she wouldn't get to compare the boy's moves to Batman's. Then she'd had the bright idea of checking Stalker's files- but just the vid-clips; she hadn't wanted to spoil the suspense by getting the answer that easily. It wasn't a surprise to see that the kid could fight, but recognising his style had been unnerving. Finally, she had followed Commissioner Gordon, not sure if she really wanted that final confirmation.
But I got it anyway. I wonder why you let that pink-haired girl in on it? Well, I suppose you had your reasons, and she seems the type to be stupidly loyal. But now what do I do about this? Ever since you popped up, I've been hoping for the chance to kill you. I didn't know...
"I didn't know," she whispered, sinking down into the chair.
I'm a thief, a saboteur, and sometimes a killer. I don't have a problem with that. But I've never killed children. I just don't. It's not that I like them or fret about their precious innocence, but it's been the one line I've always refused to cross. Now that I know that I almost crossed it without knowing... I hate this. Ethical dilemmas are your problem. I'm one of the bad guys; I'm not supposed to care about this crap!
It was at times like these that she wished she still had fingernails to bite. She looked at the boy again; even though he was asleep, he looked sad. Before that obnoxious old harridan had showed up, he had smiled faintly while sleeping. It made made him look young, but so charming it had touched even her. She hated that that was gone, and she hated the fact that she hated it. Still, she couldn't help but remember his face when that woman had started ripping into him, how it had gone from shock and confusion to horror- but not disbelief.
I still don't get that. Okay, he's got amnesia, of all things, but how could he think he'd do even half of what that old hag said? Is he really that gullible? Or is it just that he hasn't remembered enough to know that he wouldn't? ...Great. I'm feeling sorry for the kid. This isn't doing me any good! ...But, God, his eyes when she said he'd murdered his own father...
A soft moan from the bed distracted her from her thoughts. She oozed to her "feet" as she realised he was having a nightmare.
"Dad... please... no..."
She winced at the heartbreak in his voice; she'd read the police files on his father's murder. The kid had really had more than his share of bad luck. Then, as she watched him, a thought occurred to her.
It would be so easy. He'd never even know what happened. He'd just never wake up. All I have to do is reach out and...
It was the tear that did it- a single tear snaking down his cheek.
Shit.
She sighed, knowing she'd never be able to work in Gotham again after this, but unable to see a kid hurting that much and not do something. She'd been there herself, but nobody had cared. Shifting up onto the bed, she shaped herself around him carefully, soothing him as she sang softly.
"Sing a cradle song now,
As the light fades around us..."
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Terry looked out into the grey afternoon, trying to grasp a tune that eluded him. It was part of a fragment of a dream he'd had last night; he couldn't remember anything concrete, just flashes of a blood-stained room and a terrible sense of loss, then warm arms surrounding him and a soft, sultry voice singing. As usual, he wasn't sure he wanted an explanation.
Every time I find out what's going on, it just makes everything more confusing. And if that memory is what I think it is, I'll be just as happy if I don't get it back for a while.
"Hey, Ter, you awake?"
"Hey, Dana. Yeah, I'm just- well, you know. The usual." He grinned, slightly embarrassed at being caught brooding.
"Had any interesting visitors lately?" Dana giggled, then gave him a sharp look as he hesitated. "Don't tell me- someone not on the approved list got in."
"Um, yeah. Yesterday. Through the window."
"Oh, Melanie finally got up the nerve? I wondered if she would. She's been hanging around enough."
Terry blinked, startled and a bit worried.
"You, uh, you know about Melanie? And you don't have a problem with her visiting?"
Dana gave him a look he suspected he should be very familiar with.
"Terry, we've been friends since we met in kindergarten, and while our dating periods haven't been all sunshine and roses, we've never been so bad that we stopped talking to each other. Well, not for more than a day or so, anyway. You met Melanie just after one of the times I'd dumped you, and when she broke your heart that first time I was there for you. Then the next time she showed up- well, even if I knew all the details, I wouldn't tell you because we're supposed to let you remember on your own- but anyway, she was in a huge amount of trouble and you being you, you just couldn't not help her, and, well, things happened, then you brooded for a week before Confessing All. Hopefully you won't remember what happened next. Ever. It wasn't one of my better moments. But the swelling went down before too long," she finished with a sheepish grin. Terry stard at her, aghast.
"Let me get this straight- we've always been friends."
"Always."
"Could tell each other anything."
"Pretty much."
"Then we started dating."
"That was in high school."
"But you dump me often enough to make it worth mentioning, I cheated on you, and we keep dating."
"Well, I guess you could put it that way..."
"God, it sounds like we were better off when we were just friends!"
"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"
They were silent for a minute, then Dana sat up straight and glared at him.
"Terrence Edward McGinnis, was that just a 'let's be friends' speech?"
Terry reviewed the conversation and gasped.
"Ohmygod."
Then to his shock and utter bewilderment, Dana started to laugh. She only laughed harder when he started sputtering, trying to say something coherent that could spark a coherent explanation from her.
"That... has got to... be the... lamest... breakup in... the history of... ever!"
Terry reviewed the conversation again. She was right. And he knew he was blushing again. Then he caught her eye and couldn't help but laugh himself. That set Dana off all over again. They were still giggling when the door opened and Bruce walked in.
"Hi, Mr. Wayne," Dana choked out. Terry couldn't even do that much. Bruce's raised eyebrow just made things worse.
"Well, at least you're in better spirits than the last time I was here."
"Yeah, well, that's because Terry and I just broke up."
Bruce opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. He looked back and forth between the two, obviously trying to connect Dana's statement to their reactions and failing miserably. Terry knew he didn't need his memory to realise that he had never seen the Old Man so confused. Granted, confusion from Bruce Wayne looked like anyone else's mild bewilderment, but Terry still wished he had a camera.
They stifled their laughter, hoping he wouldn't do anything to make matters more ridiculous.
"Yes. Well." He was actually at a loss for words. "I'll just- I'll be right back."
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and headed out the door. Before it closed, however, they could hear the beginning of his conversation.
"Barbara? Bruce? Is Spellbinder still in jail? ... You're sure?"
That did it. The two cracked up all over again. And once again Terry was reminded of his still-healing ribs, among other injuries.
"Ow. Ow. Ow." But he kept laughing anyway.
"Well," Dana snickered, "breakups are supposed to hurt."
"Dana! -Ow...."
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Still going- I think this story turned into the Energizer Bunny when I wasn't looking.