I don't own DC!
Chapter 10—
He had to find him now, he couldn't let that rotten nightmare of a simulation come true. He would blame himself until his own last breath if he let the boy marinade in his own depression. He pulled out his bat-phone and searched for the tracker he put on the boy; his last hope was that he hadn't abandoned it and that he still was okay because Batman, if not for the boy then for himself, needed to stop him from 'giving up'; he couldn't allow that kid to kill himself because Batman had failed to be that teacher he had wanted or that partner he had needed.
Martian ManHunter had explained it; their shock overrode their knowledge of it being false. Batman had believed so strongly that Boy Wonder would have somehow survived, J'onn had put him into the simulation animated from what Batman and Flash knew or remembered of him. Batman had played out to scene, signed it to its fate of suicide but it didn't matter. He needed to find Boy Wonder to make sure that it wasn't his destiny. After hearing the crack, seeing the body, he promised himself, he'd do anything to save the boy now. It wasn't real, he had to remind himself.
A green dot flashed on the screen but it was weak, meaning the tracker was damaged. It beeped in one of the warehouses, an open roofed one at that. As Batman jumped into the Batmobile, he quickly typed in the co-ordinates; the advanced car wiped the October snow from its windscreen and Batman just new that Boy Wonder was sitting in the ice in that cold warehouse. He called Alfred to prepare the Batcave and have Leslie on call.
He couldn't let Boy Wonder down.
Rain hammered the slate, ran down into the gutter and fell out the break, dampening the snow beneath. It was a good few inches deep and colder than it should be even for ice. Breeze pounded Richard's back; he hid his face in his knees, breathing relatively warm air onto his numb fingers as they tried to pull his coat in tighter to protect him but he shook so much that he couldn't grasp the material. Frost bit into his neck but he wouldn't shake it off in fear of letting the cold in. The night was getting colder and something deep inside of him urged him to move, run and get warm, but instead he just shook harder.
It was only early October but no, it had to snow. No one would find him there in the frozen wasteland of the car park, so far away from the warehouse, the shelter that he had failed to reach. The cold struggled with hunger to be the one to kill him—he was dying. Maybe…maybe there was still a chance to get back. He stood slowly and fell against the wall when his legs wouldn't hold him.
The cold snapped at his exposed legs where they weren't covered by the jacket anymore. He staggered forwards, shivering more than before. Then the cold disappeared by a welcomed warmth. It didn't boost his morale one bit, he had heard, people caught by the cold felt so warm and comfortable in their last seconds. He wanted to lie down and bask in this heat but his will broke through, and so did he, into a run. He ran, feeling nothing, neither the burning in his lungs nor the hunger in his stomach. He had no energy for such a sprint but even when he hit empty, he felt a warm void inside.
The crisp night opened out to let him run through its alleys and over its roofs. Richard was always jealous of those kids that passed him on the sidewalk, mistaking him for one of them, as they ran off to school in smart clothes with phones in their pockets and food in their bags. He would just keep his head low; he always did, however, here and now, he cursed his loneliness as he mind shut down. He just ran; not knowing where he was or who he passed.
That didn't matter though he felt he was about to faint. Fainting didn't seem like a bad idea, although, there was the chance he wouldn't wake up ever again and he needed to get back if he wanted to live. Did he want to live? Shaking his head of the cold and unwelcome thoughts, he pushed on until he came to a familiar road junction. Just a bit further. Stay awake just a bit longer. The warehouse was there. Climb to the window, don't fall.
He dropped from the window and onto the floor of the massive warehouse. Mould slowly climbed the tall walls and rust eroded the balcony that lined three of four walls and the stairs spiralled down the forth. He knew the food and blankets to be on the last step, resting against the wall. Falling to stop, he slid to sit down and hugged his knees to his chest, resting his head there as he pulled the wet jacket off and the dry blanket tighter around him.
He fumbled for the food and ate the cereal greedily but sure enough, Richard's mind slowly faded out. His head became heavy and the blanket fell from his still fingers and it was left to just drape over his slumped shoulders. He fell deep into the blackness and he couldn't tell if it was sleep or the death that he knew all too well from being in his situation for all of those years.
Richard knew darkness, unconsciousness and then he was awake. His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright on the surgical table, soaked in his own sweat—or was it drool? Gentle hands guided him back down but he back arched. Pain struck nerves in, what seemed to be, every limb. He cried out and tears streamed down his damp face. His mind sat idly within his head while something else controlled him. He was not in the cold warehouse anymore; he found small relief in that. Instead, his surroundings consisted of dark stalactites and black polished metal. Dread still clung to his soul.
A man held him still; he spoke although Richard heard nothing but his own rapid heartbeat. He breathed deeply as feeling returned to his body, inch-by-inch. He studied the man while he took his wrist's pulse and checked the machines, to which he was connected by many wires. Mellow eyes regarded him with concern; he could not pick the shade. He seemed a nice man but Richard's instincts forebode him from trusting him. Beside him a woman, spoke with a voice, he found, to be soft and automatically comforting to his instincts.
No longer was he choked with a retched smell of decay but was treated with the mysterious scent of lemon. His back was cold and burned with a numb pain, causing him to resent the metal table, on which he appeared to lie. So he took a deep breath and sat up, ignoring the twinges in his back. He wrapped my limbs around himself for safety among warmth. After a couple of seconds Richard recognised the woman as Dr. Leslie, the woman to tend to his injuries earlier in the year.
Checking quickly, he found that his mask still hid his eyes at the action the man nodded. "Your identity is still your secret but your health is still dire."
"Did he follow me back?" He ground out, as he calmed his nerves. Offence was the best defence.
"Not quite."
"He tracked me, didn't he? You'd think a playboy would have better manners then to cheat like that."
"How long have you known my identity?" The Batman stalked across what must have been the Bat-cave.
"Six months. Why am I here?"
"You were dying."
"Why didn't you let me?"
The doctor left at that with a knowing look to Batman and the older man followed her out. That left the playboy and the Boy Wonder in silence. Batman seemed lost for words, he just studied the boy with narrowed eyes but it wasn't in anger or impatience but curiosity and almost pity. Boy Wonder growled at him and looked away, he didn't want pity. Now Batman knew of his self-hate and self-blame but why was he acting on it? What had happened to stir the Bat into motion?
Boy Wonder shivered and Batman broke from his reverie; he draped a blanket over the boy's shoulder and pulled a chair up so e could sit at eye level with him, and their gazes locked behind the masks. The watched each other, saying nothing and yet telling the other everything; Richard appreciated the help and yet didn't want to be seen as weak. Batman understood that, but they both knew it was for his own good that he fought those inner demons.
"You won't be alone in this. Tell me something I can go on and I'll help."
"Take your mask down and I'll take off mine."
"But you already know my identity."
"I want to see every change of expression when I show you." As Boy Wonder looked up, an evil smirk formed on the boy's face and Batman had second thoughts.
Nevertheless, the Dark Knight did as requested and pulled down the cowl, running a hand though his hair as he watched the boy closely. Both of Richard's hand went painfully slowly up to peel away the stolen material and blue eyes were revealed. Batman's mouth hung open as recognition formed in his eyes. An 'Oh my God' was muttered and Boy Wonder swallowed down nervous giggles. Batman recovered a bit faster than Boy Wonder would have liked and the playboy smiled.
"That adoption is still on offer you know?"
"I think I'll take you up on that, partner."
"It'll mean going back for a few days, I'll see if I can pull some strings and write a few checks to help the process along. You needn't worry though."
"Can you keep this secret from those two though?"
"She is my doctor; she knows my identity and sees to me at every turn when I'm injured. He is my butler and there's no keeping anything from him. The founding seven members of the League also know my identity; I suggest you meet them soon. I trust them, see if you can too."
"For know, let it only be us four to know."
"If you wish. The Commissioner?"
"My first night with the Joker, you remember I met him, then we spoke later on when I arrested Tony Zucco."
"You did? Trac—Richard! Well done, that must carry some weight for you."
"It does, I knocked his lights out twice and trapped his jacket in the car boot. The police arrived and I might have called Commissioner Gordon old, in my defence though, he told me to tuck my teddies into bed."
"Did he now?"
"Yeah, I can't be held responsible for what I said."
"What now?"
"I don't know; I have to go back. The Commissioner is my best option; he will remember to tell you. You two seem close in either personality you don. I might stumble blindly into the police department; throw in some Hollywood-worthy acting the rest is up to you."
"Acting?"
"Well, I won't deny, when I'm without this mask," he stroked the material in his hand fondly; "I am a different person. The mask has never meant a secret identity for me since few saw me anyway; it has been more of a reminder to be stronger, to be the hero that I pretend I am because in reality I am a lot weaker than that. I stumble and I cry and I fear…I fear everything. Everything and everyone can hurt me; I'm that vulnerable. That's why I don't trust because everyone that I have began to depend upon, has turned on me and hurt me in someway.
"It has left me hurting but when I don this mask, Richard Grayson ceases to exist and I am host to something greater. Boy Wonder isn't me. I train and I study so that I'm better because when Boy Wonder is in my place he can use that to make a difference, in a way that I never could."
"And in that form you ignore pain, ignore emotion because all of that belongs to Richard and not Boy Wonder?" Batman guessed aloud.
"Yes, Boy Wonder can't have emotions; if he were to feel than he would become weak also. He is disconnected, without fear working his brain into a panic, he can think and without emotions changing his decisions, he can be a better hero. But when I take this off, I'm nothing to anyone. I change nothing and mean nothing. I just survive the next day so that Boy Wonder can take form that night."
"You could live, be happy, be that hero that you deny yourself."
"Do I deserve it?"