Author's Note: Never extend a good story past its intended life expectancy as it loses tight plot narration and tends to lend itself to wild tangents. With that in mind, this is the end of Conditions. Enjoy.
Conditions 4
The split second following our dramatic entry onto the roof of Wayne Tower is drowned out in automatic fire. Guns suck. Our first mission is to take cover from the onslaught. I dive back behind the door as a stray bullet whizzes past my face. Bruce has the same idea I have and we both launch the gas grenades within moments of one another. It doesn't matter that they're being shot to hell; the gas is still spreading like wildfire. I think we both realize these guys came prepared when there's no coughing to be heard. They're probably wearing respirators so we don ours. Next we try smoke pellets to darken our approach.
"Divide their firepower." My partner instructs me.
"Dibs on banking left."
"Get to the detonator. We've got eight minutes."
With our strategy planned-out, we break cover and run in the opposite direction to one another. I have to cartwheel a few times to dodge more wayward bullets, but I'm near the antenna array. From the array's far side, I hear Bruce shouting it out with Dent. I really want to know what they're saying, but I have to concentrate on the bomb. It takes some serious crawling, but I eventually find the device without being tagged. It is a seriously complicated piece of work.
At first, it looks like a basic mechanical run-down timer with all the relevant components: safe-to-arm switch, detonator relay and a time/power unit. The main charge is obviously remoted away from the building to avoid fragmentation. What I should be seeing besides these things is just a couple of wires feeding into the array to make it an amplifier and nothing else. The amplifier's there and there is nothing else…in this box. But of course, this being Two-Face, there are TWO boxes. And they're both identical. But I know immediately that only one of them is the actual trigger for the explosives; the other's a dummy to divert my attention. The problem is this: I can diffuse this type of device, but only just within the time left, three-and-a-half minutes. Because the two boxes are spaced more than twenty metres I can't diffuse them both simultaneously. I have to choose the real device right this second or there won't be enough time left to disarm it and two million people will die. If I choose wrong, two million people die. If I don't choose fast enough…you get the idea.
I make a snap decision and target the device I'm closest to, on the left. Bruce always told me to go with my gut feeling in situations like these; he said the worst thing we can do in the field is be indecisive. It's always better to have a plan of action and fail than to have no plan and fail anyway; at least you tried to do something. First thing I do is examine the wires to the array for any discrepancies or hidden sensors; there are none. So I cut them first, knowing that even without a physical connection to the antenna, the proximity of it will still boost the device's signal strength by some way, at least three or four kilometres.
Now I got a couple of minutes left to doomsday. I don't know how Bruce is doing with Dent; I'm too focused on this to notice anything else. It's dangerous to be in so deep, but I have no alternative. Two million people. Let's do this, Dicky boy, let's save the day. My hand is starting to tremble as I complete the first delicate cut on the detonator relay. I'm thinking mercury tilt switch and that's not good news. I get anymore shaky and this thing will detonate right this second. I take a deep, calming breath and steady my nerves; Bruce needs me here, needs me bad. I make the second cut. With any luck, I only need to make one more and the timer will stop. Just one more…
CRACK
I was too glued to the device; I should've been aware of my surroundings. I got tagged by a baseball bat and it's pretty much lights out for this drummer boy. Pretty much lights out, but not quite. I roll quick enough to dodge another hit and then manage to get to my feet. Vision's dark and blurry, hearing's distant and my legs feel like lead. Whoever's swinging comes forward and stands right in front of me. I can just make out arms above their head and I'm guessing they mean to finish me off as efficiently as possible, with a blow to the base of the skull. Vision's not coming back as quick as I hoped; I'm going to have to do this blind. I'm scared, but Bruce needs me to disarm this thing. So I go into it blind.
I dive through the guy's legs, slide on my stomach for a few feet and then hit the array. When I throw the batarang, I hope my attacker's as quick as I think he is and has closed the gap between us enough to make my hit a knockout strike. When I hear a heavy thump that vibrates the ground, I know I got lucky. I must have seconds left to cut this wire that I can barely see. Can't find my scalpel, lost it in the aftermath, going to have to improvise a tool. I grope on my belt until I have what I think is my tranquiliser dart and snap the needle. I take the wire and use the jagged edge of the dart to poke through it. Then I start to saw, trying to keep the wire as still as possible. My vision's clearing. The wire is almost completely frayed; almost there. A moment later, one end of the wire falls away from my hand. I can't tell whether the timer's stopped or run itself down. That's it though; I've done all I can do. So I wait for the roar of an explosion in the near distance. It doesn't come.
"Robin?"
I look up and see the big guy's silhouette looming large over me.
"Two-Face?" I ask as he crouches down.
"In custody. Are you okay, partner?" He pulls my respirator off my face so I can breathe again. I feel his fingers press into my shoulders, holding me steady. My vision's still kinda blurry. I nod my head.
"Yeah. Goon tagged me from behind, think I might have a concussion or two."
"Even so, you successfully disarmed the device before it could function. How did you choose which device to focus on?"
"Dent's ugly on his left side. I figured left side, bad bomb."
"Good guess."
Suddenly the ground disappears from under me and Bruce has me in his arms. I suddenly realize I can't hear anything but the wind. "Did you take out everyone?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Thirty-one."
"Holy shit."
"Language."
By the time Gordon and the GCPD have got all forty-three of Dent's gang in the back of their wagons and carted the man himself away for interrogation, I'm feeling well enough to stand. Still, the big guy makes sure I see the paramedics before we leave. They diagnose me with a Grade I concussion, nothing some meds and sleep won't iron out. I watch from the sidelines as Bruce and Jim go over the finer points of what just unfolded. The tower is a mess of shattered glass and smoke. I counted twelve body bags carted out of the building and three from the street itself; it got awfully nasty out here. The bomb squad has been on the roof for a while now. But things could've been a hell of a lot worse. I comfort myself with that fact when we finally head back to the car; it's been a rough few days for all of us.
"All the remote receivers have been rendered inert by GCPD's IT department. Their removal will take a few days as will the disposal of their main charges from building foundations, but there is no chance of any partial explosions occurring. Congratulations, Dick; you saved half the city. I'm proud of you."
I give him a smile as we drive back to the cave. "Thanks, Boss; I just do what I can."
"How's your head doing?"
"Still a little fuzzy, but it's getting better. Sorry about your building."
"It's easily rectified."
We're silent for the next five minutes. Then I ask the hard questions. "How many men did Gordon lose?" Bruce doesn't hesitate even for a split second.
"Four. Their next of kin have been informed." Even though I had no control over what happened, I still feel bad for them. They were doing the same job as us, trying to save the innocents. They died for us, died to give us time to work.
"And what about Two-Face?"
"Thirteen dead, six in a critical condition and the remainder suffered minor injuries. I broke Dent's arm in the struggle." He says it all with such indifference; how does he keep so calm? I nod my head.
"I'm glad."
"Don't say things like that, Dick; you're better than such remarks." His tone hasn't changed; he's still flat and monotone, totally unfazed by anything that's happened tonight. I press him.
"You know if I hadn't rescued you in time, not only would you be dead, but half the city would now be in flames?"
"That would not happen."
"Why not? Only you knew who was really behind all this. Without you, we would've been chasing the wrong guy."
"You would've made the connection. Between you and Jim, you would've contained the situation."
"Do you really have that much faith in me?"
"Not faith. You are a proven asset to this mission. Your intelligence and abilities are undeniable facts. You would have stopped Dent."
I lean back in my chair. I know the big man trusts me implicitly. I know he believes in me. But, to know that he thinks I'm capable of solving this level of investigation without his direction and guidance is a little hard to accept. I'm not Bruce. Nobody's Bruce, nobody's even close to his level; he deduces the impossible. I don't say anything for the rest of the ride back to base.
We've been back in the cave for almost forty minutes. Alfie's pleased to see us largely unharmed, but is on me like a rash for my head injury. Bruce is just Bruce. While I'm under Alfie's microscope, he replaces his suit back in the armoury along with all weapons. He turns the car around, filling up the gas tank and checking the tyre pressures, the armour plating, the brake fluid and the rest of that stuff. He nearly died tonight, was like a second away from seeing the clouds and the angels, but just shrugged the whole thing off; does he even register things like this anymore? It makes me wonder how human the guy really is, when it all comes down to it.
"Bed rest, young man, plenty of it." The old man tells me with authority nobody can cross, even the boss-man. I nod in agreement as he hands me some pretty pink pills to swallow. I watch him turn his attentions on Bruce.
"Now remember, Sir, your meeting at police headquarters to discuss the damage to Wayne Tower is scheduled for nine o'clock." Alfie tells him as he applies ointment to the big man's bruises. I see Bruce's face faintly register the sting, but nothing more. "I will arrange for the rebuilding of the architecture after the meeting so as not to arouse suspicion. What do you estimate the overall cost to be?" The old guy goes on whilst bandaging Bruce's ribs.
"$150 million dollars. I'll need at least 100 labourers on site by the end of tomorrow to ensure refurbishment is completed within a fortnight." Alfie nods along taking his mental notes; I never see him write anything down.
"I trust you will want Armistice Construction to head the project?"
"Yes. Call Hal Ferguson tomorrow and tell him I'll pay half the total cost in advance if he can be ready to start before midday. That should get his workforce into high gear."
"Very good, Sir."
It looks like Bruce isn't the only one who isn't concerned by his mortality; Alfie barely seemed to notice his employer was almost in the ground either. With the conversation they just had, they could've been at breakfast or in the city. Why doesn't Alfie feel guilty, like I do about letting the big guy run loose round the streets? He could've insisted I go along, just in case something went wrong, but didn't. And now, having cheated death by a sliver, they're both just acting like everything's back to normal. Life just goes on for them. It never stands still like it does for me. When my parents died, everything stopped. When I got the Judge killed, everything stopped. When Bruce didn't come back tonight, everything nearly ground to a halt for me again. I don't actually know what I'd do without Bruce anymore. I can't actually imagine life without him now. To be honest, it's getting harder to remember a time when he wasn't around, even though I've only been with him for a few years. I need Bruce to keep my life going; I never want it to stop again.
A while later, Alfie's done with the Boss and he does that bowing/ curtsey thing before leaving us alone with one another. Bruce is in his civilian clothes now, a sweater and slacks with slippers; I'm still in uniform minus the mask.
"What did you want to say to me earlier, Dick?" The big man asks leaning against the computer terminal while I sit in his chair. His tone isn't expectant or leading, like maybe most people's would be in this situation. Most people would ask for an apology outright for what I said, but not Bruce. He speaks in a soft, gentle voice that somehow makes the cave seem warm and relaxed. I never have trouble saying sorry and that's the first thing out my mouth.
"I'm sorry for what I said in the gym, about you ruining my life and stuff. You didn't deserve that and I can assure you that it will 100% never happen again."
"Do you honestly believe you'll never get rejected by a woman ever again, Dick?" Bruce asks with a small smile.
"No, I mean, I won't ever refuse to go out on patrol with you again. You almost got killed because I was too much of an ass to see that I was being unfair."
Bruce folds his arms. He looks puzzled. "How were you being unfair, exactly?"
"I said my girlfriend dumped me because of you. How much more unfair can you get?"
"It's alright, Dick. Heartbreak hurts, I understand. I'm certain you will find another girl to go ice-skating with in the very near future."
"No Bruce, you're missing the point. We're supposed to be partners; what good is a partner who doesn't want to patrol with you, who doesn't want to watch your back? I nearly got you killed tonight because I couldn't separate my feelings from my social life and work. I nearly got you shot because I wasn't professional enough to do my job. I nearly-"
Bruce's hand is on my shoulder. I'm getting a little hysterical. He smiles at me. "I believe you need reminding who is the adult in this partnership of ours, Dick. I and my safety are not your responsibility, nor would I ever make them so. You did not refuse to go on patrol with me tonight. If you recall, I elected to go on patrol solo tonight in order to give you some space. You did not nearly get me killed. I nearly got myself killed because of my own failings. I should have exercised more caution. If I had died tonight as a result of my actions, there would be no-one to pour blame on but myself. Your timing was fortuitous, yes, and I was fortunate to escape the situation with my life, but even if you had been too late, it would not have mattered. Because I know you would have done your best to save me. That is the most I can expect from you. It is the most anyone can expect from you." There is a pause whilst the Boss gets down in front of me and puts his other hand on my other shoulder. His smile is gone and his face is serious again. He shakes me gently. "You are not a professional crime-fighter; hurting drug-dealers on the street is NOT your occupation. Your job is to be a fourteen-year-old boy and enjoy yourself. The fact that you assist me is a privilege, not an inherent right and I am grateful for your passion. Never blame yourself, Dick. Judge Watkins was your one and only mistake. Shouting at you for it was my mistake. I'm sorry if what has transpired tonight has been troubling you."
Jeez…he just…the man just knows what needs to be said. He just understands what I need to hear. Sometimes I forget he's not just The Batman; the guy's also my best friend. I sometimes forget that I'm more than a side-kick to him, that he sees I'm a scared kid a lot of time and that I need his help on more than just my kicking technique and detective skills. That's why he makes an effort to have dinner with me after work. He wants to know about me and my problems, wants to help me find my feet in life. I want to let him. But sometimes I'm scared to be weak in front of him. Sometimes I feel so embarrassed that I hide things from him. Like the bad dreams. Like the fact that Laura dumped me because I was a little too needy, not because of him. Because, even though I know from experience he's not, I still struggle to see Bruce as anything else but perfect. You always look bad next to perfection. So, after his speech, I say the one thing I'm never afraid of admitting to him.
"I love you. I don't want you to die."
Bruce's reaction is to stand me up and then hug me. "It's okay to be selfish sometimes, Dick." He tells me whilst stroking my hair. He holds me tighter, "Because I love you too." All the guilt goes away, all the pain too. I am safe and I am happy and I am loved. Everything's okay when I'm with him like this. I don't feel ashamed or embarrassed when he holds me like this…just content. The big guy loves me. Screw Laura. Her ass was too big anyway.