Okay, starting with the obvious: lots of people have pointed out "Bruce-is-Terry's-father" thing. It's true, I haven't seen that episode of JL, but in this case, it doesn't matter because this story began before that episode aired, and I wasn't about to go back and rewrite everything just to take that into account. So consider this an AU. Some of my other stories will be similarly AU, because I laid the foundations before that episode existed. Some can be reworked to take that into account, but for some, especially this one, it just can't happen. And when I do take it into account, my descriptions of the grown-up Terry will actually look like the Terry from the original show, not the steroid-abuse posterboy from JL. (I've seen screencaps. What the hell were they thinking? Wrong body-type, wrong hair, even the lips were wrong? Seriously, guys, WTF? It's like expecting Daniel Radcliffe to grow up into Sylvester Stallone.) Okay, rant over. Anyway, because of the timing, let's just say this only takes into account up to ROTJ, then goes AU.
Jess S1- Okay, I admit it, I giggled and wished I'd thought of it.
Aya- How can you not love a town with MacBeans, Bull Moose, and The Great Impasta? And I am dying to know how the Tontine Mall got its name!
Miss L. Anyus- You have no idea how many times I have refrained from making that joke because it would make the scene go places it shouldn't at the time.
Wandering Racoon- Now that's a compliment. Imitation and all that. I suppose I should get all sniffy and whine about character theft, but that would be a bit much coming from a fanfic writer, no? ;) And, yeah, some of the hospital stuff is from personal experience, from both sides of the bed.
I am not giving up on this. I hate people who leave stories unfinished, and I refuse to be one of them. It may take me a while, but I will finish this. I've got the next two chapters mostly plotted; part of the delay was in figuring out how to get from last chapter to next chapter. I knew where points A, C, and D were, but I couldn't find point B! But the next two chapters will wrap up the Old Trout storyline, and then- well, don't want to give away too much, do I?
Bruce's opinion of Mary was unchanged: the woman was a brilliant inventor, but she couldn't plan a pizza run. Not that he disapproved of her suggestions for handling Brenda McGinnis, but not a single one of them had even the remotest possibilty of working. The plan involving a retired space shuttle and several tons of wasabi was original, amusing, and completely impractical, and that was one of her saner ideas. The plan involving the squid would probably give him nightmares.
To be fair, she hadn't really been serious about any of those plans; the last half hour she had been blowing off stream. At least, Bruce hoped she was. But her most recent suggestion had been less bizarre, if still unworkable.
"Mary."
She broke off from describing a plan that seemed to involve a traveling kabuki troupe and blinked at him.
"There's still one thing that needs explaining. Why, if you know what Brenda McGinnis is, did you believe her version of what happened that Christmas over Terry's?"
She winced.
"It's complicated."
"Try me."
"She always made a big deal about Christmas being a time of peace, especially within the family. She never said anything directly to either me or Terry on Christmas- in fact, she'd pretty much ignore us completely. Warren used to get furious about that, but it was better than when she wasn't ignoring us. It just never occurred to me that she'd actually acknowledge his presence on Christmas after all these years. And as for Terry lying to me, well, the last few months before he went to Juvy were pretty bad. I didn't mean to imply I'd believe Her over Terry, but as soon as I opened my mouth I knew it had sounded that way. I really did apologize for a week for that- I'm glad he remembered that part, if he had to remember any of it. It was a stupid thing to say in the first place."
Bruce kept his mouth shut. He agreed with her, but saying so would be a Bad Idea.
The doorbell rang, causing both of them to break their chains of thought. It was Barbara, looking positively smug.
"Sometimes I really love my job," she said as she entered. "And sometimes anonymous informants are a wonderful thing. Especially when you know perfectly well who they are and have no proof, so they can't be discredited in court."
Bruce frowned, wondering just which of their new temporary allies had gotten clever.
"Is an arrest likely?" he asked, not quite sure he wanted to know. Barbara's responding grin was positively feline.
"Oh, yes," she purred, "I think Brenda McGinnis and her husband are definitely looking at jail time, and I think we may even be able to get that bigoted jackass Turpin to boot."
Bruce actually blinked, and Mary gasped. DeShawn Turpin had been the judge at Terry's trial (and Terry had made more than a few jokes about Judge Turpin), and the man had a reputation for giving white offenders much harsher sentences than black offenders. It was an awkward situation for the city's civil rights activists, and the local chapter of the NAACP had very visibly disassociated themselves from him. Aside from him being openly bigoted, many people had suspected for years that the man's judgement was for sale. Bruce had met him once or twice and had no use for the man; even less after the man had accused him of being racist for not wishing to talk with the self-centered blowhard. Lucius Fox, who had been standing right there, had laughed in the man's face.
"So they did bribe him," Mary and Bruce chorused, then looked at each other.
"Oh, you thought so, too?" Mary enquired.
"Well, the sentence was a bit harsh for a first conviction, especially since it wasn't a violent crime and nobody resited arrest. Although I must admit that before I met That Woman, I had just chalked it up to Turpin being Turpin. Will the evidence stand up in court, Barbara?"
"I've already shown it to Sam, and he's positively salivating. He can't stand the man, either, for personal and professional reasons. Did I ever tell you Sam called him the death knell of affirmative action?"
"No, but I'm not surprised." Bruce could just imagine what Turpin would have had to say about Barbara and Sam's marriage, and while Sam was basically easy-going, Bruce knew the man had more backbone than any DA in Gotham's history and little patience with unthinking rhetoric.
"And there's more," Barbara continued, her eyes glittering. "Only Brenda is implicated in bribing the judge and the guards at Juvy, along with a few other unpleasant stunts over the years- and that annoying little weasel Nakamura will be answering a few questions about his association with her."
"Nakamura- as in Principal Nakamura." Bruce wasn't surprised; Nakamura was the worst type of petty bureaucrat, and was easily influenced or intimidated by anybody with money or power. He had even tried to prevent Terry from marching in the Graduation exercises, but Bruce had had words with him.
"Yep. Doesn't look like he accepted anything from her, but she made a comment about them thinking along similar lines when it came to dealing with the bad element, and what an unexpected pleasure it had been to speak with him. There are also repeated references to him being invited to dinner. I know the weasel never did anything overt and didn't have either the brains or the backbone to try anything sneaky, but even the appearance of a connection between the two won't look good. But that still isn't the high point."
"What did the old bitch do, already," Mary snapped. Barbara ignored that; Bruce could almost see her reminding herself that Mary was under a lot of stress lately.
"Did you know that Warren had a trust fund that should have gone to Terry? And that he had written a will dividing his estate equally between Terry and Matt?"
Bruce looked at Mary. Mary looked at Bruce.
"I knew Warren had a trust fund that he never touched," Mary said slowly, "but I must admit I've never quite understood how they worked. When the lawyers said he'd died intestate, I just assumed that everything reverted to those two, since we were divorced. Warren always handled that sort of thing, because I've always been embarrassingly bad- I mean 1950-sitcom-wife-bad- at financial stuff. Calculus, sure. Trigonometry, whatever. But ask me to fill out a tax form and I'm lost. They pulled something, didn't they."
"They got Terry to sign a form stating that he relinquished all claims on Warren McGinnis' estate, and they did this by claiming to have evidence connecting him to the Jokerz who killed Warren. They also bribed the lawyers to 'lose' Warren's will. And I have in my possession documents stating that both Brenda and Stephen were involved."
There was a stunned silence.
"Terry couldn't have legally signed any such documents when his father died." The only evidence of Bruce's raging temper was the whiteness of his knuckles as he clutched the handle of his cane.
"Exactly."
"And he hasn't seen them since his father's funeral."
Barbara's eyes narrowed.
"That I didn't know. You don't think-"
"I do."
Bruce and Barbara turned to look at Mary. They looked at each other. Each had one thought: Keep Mary here while we arrest those two unless we want them jailed posthumously.
Bruce squashed the little voice that wondered if maybe telling Mad Stan about this first wouldn't be more satisfying. He also squashed the little voice that suggested he take care of matters personally. No, it was best to let Barbara handle this. For one thing, it couldn't be looked at as his pursuing a personal vendetta. For another, by letting this go through official channels, it guaranteed that That Woman's over-dramatized scheming would be made public. He wasn't looking forward to the new burst of publicity it would bring, but it would help Terry in the long run. A young man with a record was one thing; a young man who had managed to survive the scheming of an abusive, manipulative relative and make something of his life was something else.
He never liked letting others run the show, but he knew that sometimes, it just had to happen that way.
******************************************
The relative quiet of the afternoon was broken by a swarm of police cars pulling up in front of a prosperous-looking house set back from the curb in an expensively-landscaped yard. Next door, a gruff man with a shock of iron-grey hair sat on his porch with a pair of eminently respectable elderly ladies, sipping tea.
"Shocking, isn't it," the man said. "And in such a respectable neighbourhood. What is the world coming to?"
"Absolutely scandalous," the elegant green-eyed lady replied in a purring voice. Her dowdier companion giggled.
"Yeah, ya just can't trust nobody these days, not even a sweet old lady."
The three exchanged self-satisfied looks, which turned into smirks as a bald man was led out in cuffs, sputtering. The smirks faded as they realised that the man was not being followed by a certain embittered harridan.
"Where is she?"
A taxi eased its way around the assembled cars, slowed, then picked up speed again. Harley jumped to her feet with a shriek.
"THAT WAS HER IN THE TAXI!!! GET HER, YA TWITS!!!"
Some of the officers froze, and some turned to look at her. Only one actually ran for her car to give chase. Selina, Nathan, and Harley watched her take off, knowing she was too late. Nathan pounded his fist on the porch railing.
"Dammit, Dammit, Dammit! Is that woman boffing a demon or something? How the hell does she manage that kind of luck?"
"I don't know," Selina seethed, "but I know one way to put a stop to it, and I'm calling in a favor now. Nathan, thank you for your help. Harley, I'll drop you off. If this works out, I'll be sure to tell you. If not, you'll probably see it on the evening news."
She didn't say another word about what she was up to. Instead, she dropped off Harley as promised, then headed to an older, more well-preserved section of town. She parked in front of an impressive brownstone and let herself in. The physical locks were still no obstacle, and the other kind let her pass. As she reached the top of the stairs to the second floor, a man stepped out to greet her.
"Selina, it's been a while."
"Yes, it has. And I apologise for that, and for the fact that my first visit in years is to call in a favor."
Jason Blood looked at her evenly for a moment, then nodded.
"All right. What do you need?"
******************************************
To be continued- no, seriously.