To Play the Fool

PART THREE

Chapter Twenty-One

"Jenny, go get the door," Dad ordered. "It's for you."

I pulled my nose out of my book, not even aware that someone was knocking. "How do you know it's for me?"

"Because they're knocking."

Oh, right. I got off the living room floor and went to answer the door. Standing on our Welcome mat was James Carroll dressed in scrubs and wearing a stupid grin. "James, hi. What are you doing here?"

"The power's back in Gotham. I came to get you."

"No, I mean what are you doing here? I never told you I was staying with my parents, much less where they live."

"Imogen told me," he said. It was a lie because Imogen was also out of town, but considering I hadn't exactly covered up my tracks and my parents' address was in the phonebook, I let it slide. Besides, I did need a ride back.

"Alright, come on in. Let me pack my bags real quick." I led him into the living room where my dad was reading over a report and Mom was watching a movie on her laptop. "James, this is my dad, Jeremy, and my mom, Judy. Dad, this is James Carroll. Mom." I walked over to her and tapped her am.

Mom paused her movie and looked up, catching the sight of James. She pointed at him, then brought her fist up to her chin, touched her chin with her thumb and curled her pointer finger up and down. Who is this?

James Carroll, I spelled out with my hand. My stalker. He's giving me a ride back to Gotham, I explained further.

Dad saw that part. Is it bad? he signed.

I shook my head and I replied. Then I went to my old room – now the guest bedroom – threw all my stuff back into my bag, cleaned everything else up as best I could, and hauled my stuff out my door. Jackie may be annoyingly frugal, but at least she knows how to pack light, a skill I had yet to acquire. "Okay, I'm ready to go." James took my bag to his car while I kissed my parents goodbye.

Dad gave me a hug. "Make sure Jackie's okay, alright?"

"I'll make sure she Skypes you tonight," I assured him. Then I hugged Mom and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I left them with a parting I love you.

James was holding open the door of his white 2012 Camaro. I whistled appreciatively. That must have cost him a pretty penny. The life of an anesthesiologist had been good to him. "You like it?"

"I definitely can say that I do." I sat down in the passenger seat and cracked open one of my chemistry textbooks. I was supposed to have an exam yesterday, but no doubt it would have been delayed due to the Riddler blackout. "Sorry, I'm not going to be great company," I said as he sat down in the driver's seat. "I have to study."

"That's alright." He backed out of the driveway and started for Gotham. "So, your Mom's – "

"Deaf? Yes she is." I chose not to elaborate further.

My apartment, amazingly, wasn't ransacked or looted. Jackie had cleaned up the place, restocked the fridge and pantry, and had even baked some Welcome Home! cookies. She squealed in delight when I walked in and practically tackled me with a hug. "You're home!"

"I take it Batman hasn't been great company." I tried to hug her back with all the stuff in my hands.

"He's so needy," she whispered conspiratorially. "How's Mom and Dad?"

"Good, they're both good. Mom wants you to call her." I pushed her off me so I could set down my bag.

"Internet's not back yet." She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout.

"I saw your bike parked outside. That's a relief. How did you find it?"

"Uh, that's kind of a weird story. Let's just say Stapleton was using it to get me to follow him around Dartmoor until I got caught in the Grimpen Mire."

"Wait. Dartmoor is Gotham. Stapleton would be the Riddler. Is the Mire the Narrows?" Her code names were starting to get convoluted.

"I'm going to say yes."

"Did you give back the Batpod?"

"No. The Hound got to it and kind of broke it."

I shook my head at that one. It was too something in the day for all these Sherlock Holmes references. "Okay, I'm going to go play some softball."

"Ooh, do you need a pitcher?"

"Actually, I have someone else in mind."

Alfred answered the door within a minute of my knocking. "Hi Alfred. Is Mr. Wayne available?"

"In what sense of the word, Ms. Harkness?" he replied.

"For softball. And for a chat concerning the fact that I facilitated the breakup."

"Come inside. I'll see if I can find him." Alfred ushered me into a parlor and left to go look for him.

Wherever Mr. Wayne was hiding, it was really good. After a couple minutes of waiting, I started to study the art on the walls. On in particular, a field of daisies, held my interest more than the others. What can I say? They're one of my favorites.

"Alfred said you wanted to see me," said Mr. Wayne, almost making me jump. I hadn't heard his footsteps. He had been working on a car, as evidenced by the grease stains on his hands and the blue jumpsuit.

"Yes, I did."

"I take it you heard I broke up with Star." He was one that liked to cut to the chase.

"Actually, I helped drive her to New York City."

"Oh."

"So … whenever I have a breakup, or I'm frustrated, or I'm mad at my sister, I like to spend some time swinging a bat around and occasionally hitting a softball. I was going to go to the batting cages at GCC, and I thought you might want to join me."

"Violence isn't really my thing, Jenny," he said, trying to decline the offer.

"Psh. It's not violence. It's a competitive sport. I also play on a community co-ed softball team that plays tonight at six. We're terrible, but it's fun. We're always short a few players and could use another person."

Mr. Wayne chuckled and wiped some engine grease off his hands with a dirtier cloth. "You know what? I've been stuck inside this house for too long. You've sold me. Let me go get cleaned up and presentable. Go ahead and raid the kitchen. Alfred won't mind."

"Thanks, but my sister just fed me a plate-full of cookies."

"I'll be down in a second, then." Then he went bounding off upstairs to his room. A few minutes later, he returned wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. "What do you think?"

"You'll do. Come on." I took him outside to my rental car. It was the cheapest thing I could find: a Dodge Spirit. But it worked, and that was the point. In a city like Gotham, the less classy your car is, the less likely it is to be stolen. "I have to warn you, the passenger door doesn't open from the inside, and the window's stuck."

"It's fine."

I pulled out of the courtyard and headed for campus. "So, I've got to ask you something. Star couldn't ever find you during the blackout, but you said you were stuck in the house. Where were you? Really."

"Really? It's actually kind of embarrassing."

"What, did you get buried under your My Little Pony collection?"

"No, I got myself locked in my panic room and I couldn't get out."

"Because the power was out?"

"I … forgot the code," he admitted sheepishly.

"That is bad." I chuckled despite myself.

"What did you do with your unexpected vacation?"

"Ate crackers and memorized enzymes, mostly."

"That's right, you're studying Chemistry. What do you want to do when you graduate?"

"Work in a lab, I guess. I like researching."

"What do you really want to do?"

"Be a Private Investigator, but I don't have the training or experience to get a license."

"A PI?" He leaned back to examine me. "I could see it."

"Thanks."

"So you must have left town at some point. What else did you do?"

"I went to stay with my parents."

"You and Jackie?"

"No, just me. Jackie wanted to stay behind and watch the apartment, and Star needed someone to help keep her awake."

I watched Mr. Wayne's reaction to that. He grew a bit colder and his jaw tensed, but he didn't ask what was on his mind. "That must have been fun, seeing your parents."

"It was. The last time I saw them was last Christmas, and both of them managed to be called in to work at some point, and I spent most of the week pretending to study. This time, I actually was studying."

We arrived at the baseball batting cages a couple minutes later. I opened Mr. Wayne's door and then got my equipment out of the trunk. He kindly carried my duffel bag, I took my bats, and we went to the first empty batting cage. "Do you want to go first?" I asked him.

"No. I think I'll want to watch you first to see how you do it."

I put on my helmet, had Mr. Wayne turn on the pitching machine, and took my spot at 'home plate.' Mr. Wayne stood to my left behind the net, studying my stance carefully. The first ball launched and I hit it away in a perfect run to first. "Have you ever played softball before, Mr. Wayne?" Crack! Another hit.

"We're not at work, Jenny. You can call me Bruce. And I played tee-ball in elementary school. Does that count?"

I swung and missed the next one. "Baseball is one of those things you just don't forget." Crack. There we go. "Do you need a brief tutorial?"

"Right hand goes on top, right?"

"Yes it does." The pitching machine ran out of balls, so I collected them and reloaded it before I left the batting cage and handed Mr. Wayne one of my other bats. "No better way to learn than baptism by fire." He went in and copied my previous position. His first two swings missed terribly. "Hold the bat more in your fingers, not the palms of your hands. Your fingers are stronger than the rest of your hand." He repositioned and hit the next pitch perfectly. "Nice."

He hit a few more balls into the nets. He was definitely getting better and better, even if he missed a couple. When the pitching machine ran out of balls, we gathered them back up again. "Does it pitch any faster?" he asked.

I reset the machine and started it up again. This time, the balls' velocity was a little higher. "Something tells me you've done more than just tee-ball." I stood behind the nets protecting the machine.

"I had a baseball phase in high school," he admitted. Crack! Another ball went over my head.

"I see. Well, I think now that you've got a weapon in your hands and are sending flying projectiles in my general direction, it's the perfect time to talk about why I brought you out here."

Crack. "Does it have to do with Star?"

"Yes. I'm not going to lie about that. Before Star left for New York, she came to see me because she was ready to leave town, but wasn't sure that she should."

"You're the one that convinced her to leave?" Crack!

"Yes and no. Star needed a sounding board, and you weren't available." Crack! "I helped her clarify her thoughts so she could figure out her priorities. I did not tell her to leave you."

"But you didn't try to stop her."

"No. That was your job."

He missed the next one. "I know."

"I did try to convince her to stay, but her mind was made up. It was her decision entirely."

"I should have been there for her." Crack! He nearly broke the bat with that one. "No wonder she left. I tried my best to spend time with her." I know. I'm the one that scheduled his meetings.

"Sometimes the world just conspires against us."

"Yeah, but the point of a relationship is that it's stronger than that. No matter what happens, it can weather anything the world throws at us. Star clearly didn't think we could have made it because when it came down to it, I just wasn't there." Crack! His frustration with himself was coming through his attitude more and more. He wasn't mad at Star, or even the growing number of women that had come and gone in his life. He blamed himself for it all.

"You should tell her what happened and clear up the misunderstanding."

"I did," he admitted. Ah.

"Hey Jenny," a man in his twenties and a baseball shirt called as he ran to the batting cage from the softball diamond. It was Robert, one of the regulars. "We're starting a game in a few minutes. Want to join?"

"What do you think, Bruce? Want to play a game?"

"Sure, as long as there's room for me." The pitching machine was empty, so I turned it off and he set the bat against the net.

"Actually, I think the other team could use you more. They're short a couple people," said Robert. "We'll be waiting for you." He trotted back to the diamond.

The two of us gathered up the balls, returned them to the pitching machine, and hurried to join the game.

"Jenny, you're up first," said Robert, my team captain for tonight. Charlie, the opposing team captain, was more than happy to have someone like Bruce join his team. In all fairness, both our teams could use whatever talent we could get. "Let's start out strong."

I stepped onto the plate with my helmet on and my bat ready to strike. "Hey batter, batter," the catcher, also known as Bruce, teased. I couldn't afford to turn around and give him a piece of my mind. Instead, I focused on the wind up, and the pitch.

"Strike one!" said the umpire when I missed my first one. Mr. Wayne – or Bruce as he wanted to be called tonight – sent it back to the pitcher. He wound up and sent it straight back to me. This time, my bat connected and I sent the softball somewhere out by second base. I dropped the bat and raced for first base. When I got there, they were still trying to pick up the ball, so I decided I could steal second as well. My team cheered for me and for the next guy who stepped up to the plate.

The next two people struck out. The third person hit the ball and we both moved up a base. I got ready to move as the next person stepped up to bat. Strike one. Ball one. Crack! Before I knew where the ball was going, I took off for home plate. Someone caught the ball and was about to throw it home to Bruce. I slid into the plate just as he caught the ball. When the dust cleared, the umpire declared, "Safe!"

"Better luck next time, Bruce," I said as I went back to the bench. I was impressed that no one had connected him with Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham yet. Maybe it was because no one could imagine that Bruce Wayne played softball with a borrowed glove from me.

The next person on my team struck out, so we switched sides. I traded my helmet for a glove and set out for the right field. The first batter on Bruce's team hit the ball straight to the pitcher, who caught it and he was out. The next one hit the ball into my field. I picked it up and threw it to first base, but she was safe.

Next up was Bruce. He got himself a foul ball, then hit it into the left outfield. He made it to first, but his teammate didn't make it to second before she was tagged out. "Having fun yet?" I asked him.

"Oh yeah. Loads. Alfred's going to be proud of me."

The next person up hit a line drive to the left infield, which should have been an easy one to catch, but the shortstop missed it. The batter and Bruce got to their next bases safely. The batter after that hit a grounder. Bruce ran home, the guy on first reached second, and the batter wasn't fast enough and got tagged out. Three outs and we switched.

The regular catcher for Bruce's team had just arrived, so Bruce chose to be the left fielder. I was the fifth up to bat. We had one out, two runs, and a girl on third base. My first swing connected perfectly and sent the ball on a perfect pop fly. Only problem was that Bruce caught the ball right after the girl on third stole home and before I could reach first base. "Harkness, you're out!" said Robert. Bruce waved as he threw the ball back to the pitcher.

Oh, it is on, Mr. Wayne.

Soon it was my turn in the field. Bruce hit a groundball, which had most of us scrambling for the ball while he casually jogged to first and two of his teammates ran home. "Trouble?" he grinned. I shook my head and stepped a little closer to the pitcher, knowing this next batter never hit very far. He swung and the ball seemed to fly straight into my glove. For good measure, I tagged Bruce as he was running by just to make sure he knew he was out. On his way back, he gave me the eye that let me know he accepted the challenge.

The next time I was up to bat, Bruce had taken shortstop. I hit the ball into the ground just in front of him. He nearly caught the ball before it hit the dirt, but had to field it instead. By the time he threw it to first, I was already there.

Every time someone came up to bat, Bruce was ready to catch their balls. Except each time he did, he tried to get it to whatever base I was headed to next. As soon as I heard the ball connect with the bat, I was off for the next base before Bruce could try to get me out. Eventually, I ran home, much to his dismay.

Two could play this game. When Bruce came up to bat next, I let him know I was ready for any fly or pop fly he could unleash. He was thrown a curve ball, but he managed to turn it into a nice line drive that was aimed right over my head. I jumped to catch it, but the ball grazed the top of my glove and I had to go scrambling for it. He made it to first, second, and third before I could throw the ball back to the pitcher. Then, just to tick me off, he ran home.

My competitiveness was coming out. On my next turn to bat, I swung hard enough to crack open Batman's head for each pitch, resulting in one strike, one foul, and one beautiful line drive. I made it to first and tried for second, but Bruce was already sending the ball to the second baseman. I knew I was out before I got there.

Bruce's own need to win was revealing itself too. His first swing earned him a pop fly in the direction of second base, the kind that landed easily in my glove. I saw him shake a fist briefly on his way back to the bench.

As it happens, neither Bruce or I got to bat on the next inning. All the batters before us managed to strike out. Probably because the pitcher was pretty bad. I can testify to this because on my next turn, all I got were pitches way out of my range, and I ended up walking to first. This inning was pretty relaxed for me because everyone else hit some low ground balls and I just took it one base at a time.

When we switched sides again, I took a turn pitching just because I needed the practice. Also because I can throw some deceptively slow balls. Two people struck out with my pitching, and a third hit a ground ball. Then Bruce was up to bat. That was when I pulled out my best ones. My first pitch, although being underhand, was surprisingly fast, and Bruce didn't swing fast enough. "Strike one!" said the umpire.

My next one was a little slower. Bruce was expecting it to be just as fast and swung too early. I grinned as I wound up for the pitch that would strike him out, then gave him one that was even faster than the first and had a bit of a spin. This time, Bruce was ready for it and hit squarely into the center field. After the next few batters, he came in and scored a run. He tipped his helmet to me as he landed on home plate.

When my team came in for the next inning, I saw Bruce talking to his team captain. Then I saw him run out to the pitcher's mound. What made me more nervous was the fact that I was first in line to bat. I put on my helmet and ran out to home plate.

I thought I could pitch fast. Bruce practically sent me fireballs. I flinched on the first one, swung too late, and was given a strike. I got ready for the next one, which was a bit of a wild curve ball. I swung at the right time, but not low enough. My jaw clenched in frustration, but I forced myself to relax for the next pitch. Bruce sent me another fireball and I imagined that it was Batman's head flying at me. That did the trick. I sent it way out into the centerfield and raced around the bases.

I took a place in the centerfield the next time our team was out in the field. I got a good distance away from the other fielders, preparing for only one batter. Bruce. He hit a perfect fly ball, just as I knew he would because he was going to one-up my last hit. I didn't run for the ball. I just stuck my glove up in the air and the softball came to me. Out.

Well, we seemed to be having a bit of a contest as to who could bat the ball further. Bruce took my same position as the center fielder. With a runner on second and third, Robert told me the priority was to get them moving. So I made sure I only hit the ball far enough that I would get to first. Bruce looked a little disappointed that I wasn't going to give him anything to do and came in a bit closer for the other batters. I got to second before we got three outs and I went back to the field. The left side this time.

Bruce didn't forget about the contest. When he came up to bat, the bases were loaded. He pointed the bat at me. "This one's for you, Jenny! You're not far enough!" Of course not. I took a few steps backward. The first pitch he got, he sent the ball directly over my head and I had to go off running for it as it rolled away. I grabbed it out of the ground with a handful of grass and threw it back to the pitcher, but by then, Bruce and everyone on the bases had come home and scored a run.

Alright, if that's the way you want it. On my next turn, I hit the softball hard enough that Batman would have been wincing. It sailed well into the outfield where Bruce was waiting. He went running after it, jumped, and came back down with my fly ball in his glove.

"Are you sure you should be out that far?" Robert asked me when I took a position way out in center field. "it's softball. No one can hit the ball that far."

"We'll see." Mr. Wayne had surprised me more than once today.

The pitcher nervously looked between me and Bruce, knowing that this had become a contest between the two of us. Then he shrugged and threw the ball at Bruce. The ball connected with an explosive CRACK! and both of us went running. I darted after the ball, took a flying leap, and landed in the grass on my stomach. I felt like my face was broken, but I had Bruce's ball in my glove. Out!

"Alright, good game!" Robert and Charlie called. Nine innings already? Dang. I got off my face and ran back to the benches where everyone was shaking hands and high-fiving each other. Bruce was getting a lot of the attention. Especially from the young women.

"So who won?" I asked Bruce as I tossed him the ball that he had hit to me.

"I have no idea," he answered honestly. "Good game, Jenny."

We shook hands to make sure our competition stayed on the diamond. "Good game, Bruce." The rest of the team had to congratulate him too, so I had to wait a couple minutes before I made my next offer. "Usually after a game, we go to the ice cream shop in the student union and get ice cream cones. Want to come?"

He took off his helmet and handed it back to me so I could put it away. "That actually sounds like a lot of fun. I'd love to."

I got Mr. Wayne back home by nine o'clock. There wasn't a whole lot said between the game and driving back to the Palasades. The teams had really taken to him, and that was generally a good sign.

"I had a great time tonight," he said. "Thanks for getting me out of the house."

"Not a problem. You are welcome to join our games whenever you want." I got out of the car and opened up Bruce's door. "Are you feeling better about things, then?"

"I am. Definitely. Maybe violence is for me."

"It's not violence! It's a competitive sport!" I insisted.

"Good night, Jenny," he called as he walked to his door.

"Good night, Mr. Wayne. I'll see you tomorrow."