That's right . . . Today is a TWO-FER!
Warning: Some Language and Tissues . . .
"Dick's in ICU, waiting for Leslie to arrive to perform his surgery. Elle was just given a room on the floor down," Bruce murmured into his cell phone. "Both are stabilized for the moment."
He listened to Tim on the other side of the line spreading the news to Damian and Alfred. They were already on their way back to Bludhaven despite the weather. The snow was coming down hard, but his middle son had assured them that Alfred was driving the Range Rover and had taken the added precaution of adding chains to the tires.
"You'll find me on one floor or the other," Bruce told him. He looked up to see one of the doctors from the emergency room approaching him. "Look, Tim, I've got to go. I'll see you when you get here."
"Mr. Wayne? I'm not sure if you remember me, I'm Dr. Evan Carter," the African-American doctor introduced himself. "You met me once, I believe, the last time your daughter-in-law was admitted after a mugging approximately two months ago."
"Dr. Carter, yes, I remember," Bruce shook his hand.
"I was very sorry to see her back so soon," the doctor chided, gently.
"Yes, well, this time trouble came knocking on her door, Doctor," Bruce assured him. "But you came up to give me a report on her condition, I hope."
"Yes, indeed," Carter admitted. "The woman has amazing resilience and healing capabilities. She astounded me the last time she was here, and she's managed to do the same this time as well. Her recovery from her very near-death experience simply defies logic. Luckily, I recognized her early on, and we had a supply of her blood on hand."
Bruce lifted an inquiring eyebrow.
Because of her unusual blood type," he explained, "she and your son have both come in and left a supply for her use. It came in handy, although she wasn't in danger of hypovolemic shock this time around. She only needed one pint."
"Ah, yes," Bruce nodded. "Go on. You were about to tell me her condition."
Carter's face fell slightly and Bruce felt his heart speed up correspondingly. "What is it," he asked.
"I-I hate this part of my job," the doctor admitted, soberly. "The good news I enjoy giving the families, but the bad news . . ." He sighed, but mercifully didn't keep Bruce in suspense any longer than necessary.
"I'm sorry. It is my understanding that this wasn't common knowledge yet, at least that was my impression after speaking with the nurse you spoke with earlier. I'm fairly certain that you weren't yet aware that Arabella was pregnant."
Dick is going to be a father?
Bruce blinked. He knew he grew paler because he could feel the blood draining from his face. He didn't know . . . Everything that she had gone through over the past six hours or so slid through his head involuntarily.
But no . . . Carter was delivering bad news.
"She lost the baby?"
"Even had we known when she first arrived . . ." Carter shook his head. "It was her bloodwork that alerted us."
"The trauma caused it," Bruce said knowingly.
"Actually, the baby was small and very well protected. Based upon her injuries that we could see, the physical trauma alone wouldn't necessarily been enough to trigger a miscarriage," Carter explained. "We believe it was those moments when her heart had stopped beating that I think irreparable damage occurred. I'm so sorry."
A sharp pain was felt in the vicinity of his heart. Bruce hadn't even known until this moment that a baby had existed, and already the knowledge of its loss, given to him in nearly the same breath grieved him. Did Dick know about the baby? Hell, did Elle even know? How early into the pregnancy was it?
"How far along was she? Do you know?"
The best we can guesstimate is around four weeks, give or take," Carter told him.
Just one month along . . .
"Is she awake yet? Does she know? Have you told her?" Bruce mind raced. If Elle wasn't aware of her pregnancy, maybe she didn't have to know.
Carter sighed. "I just spoke with her a few moments ago. She woke and was asking after Dick. She only discovered it for herself just last night. I'm very sorry."
Bruce nodded. Dick was under a light sedation, and wouldn't be awake for a while. He moved toward the elevator to go see her. He saw two of the nurses weeping at the nurses' station as he walked by and knew they had been in to see her recently. He paused at the door to her room as he found himself struggling to control his own emotions. The sudden urge to weep struck him.
Swallowing his grief for a child never born, Bruce pushed open the door and entered the room. Elle was sitting up with her knees bent, elbows resting on them and her head in her hands. The sounds of her own grief were barely heard and already he felt like the world was crashing in around him. He understood that it was his own feelings, but magnified a hundred times over by her own.
"Elle," he called to her softly, choking.
Her breath caught and she raised red-rimmed eyes to his. Tears streaked her face. She wiped at her face as she bid him enter.
"I . . . heard," Bruce said, lamely. "I'm sorry."
Renewed sobs shook her. Unsure of what else to do, Bruce sat on the side of her bed and drew her into his arms. Dick responded to physical contact, maybe Elle would also. She clung to him; grasping at his jacket with one hand and his neck with the other as her tears soaked his shoulder.
They sat that way for a long time. When she finally pulled away, Bruce's face was as wet as hers. He handed her a tissue and grabbed one for himself.
"I-I feel like such a failure," she hiccuped; wiping futilely at her still streaming eyes.
"What? Why? Elle, none of this is your fault," Bruce told her. "There was nothing more you could have done."
"I couldn't protect it," she cried. "I couldn't even protect myself; not even after everything you and Dick taught me. My mind just went blank, and I couldn't think! I should have paid better attention; worked harder!"
"You've only been learning self-defense for a short time, Elle. No one knows how they'll react in an emergency situation until it happens," Bruce said, holding onto her good hand. Her left was encased in a brace that went from mid-forearm to her fingertips. "What we taught you was for the common mugger, Elle. The man who attacked you was a professional. There was nothing more you could have done that he wouldn't have been prepared for."
Her face contorted with anger and she pulled her hand away. "I wish now I would have killed him!" She shot him a look. "I'm sorry if that shocks you, but I hate that man! I hate him!"
Bruce was silent while she broke down again. She didn't reach for him this time, but turned her face away towards the window. After a while, she dabbed at her eyes again with her ruined tissue. Bruce took it from her and handed her a new one.
Sniffling, Elle kept her gaze on his chest. "You probably hate me now, too," she murmured. "You probably wish Dick had never met me."
"No," he answered quietly. "You are still the best thing that ever happened to him . . . To all of us, really."
"How can you say that?" She stared at him now in surprise. "Dick's upstairs in the Intensive Care Unit because of me!"
"Dick is upstairs because of me," Bruce said.
"What? How do you figure that?" She tilted her head in confusion.
"If I'd have taken the time to search him more thoroughly before helping Dick search for you; if I'd have pulled my cuffs instead of a zip tie," he sighed and looked down at the floor. "None of us were thinking very clearly last night. I let my emotions get the better of me and slipped my standards."
"Your emotions?" Elle blinked at him.
"Dick wasn't himself. He was terrified for you, and I'll admit that I was afraid, also. I worried about what he would do if we didn't find you quickly or if the assassin had decided to kill you before we got there," Bruce admitted, reluctantly. "Time was of the essence, and I let it distract me from doing what I knew was right. It was not one of my more stellar moments, to be sure. A rookie mistake that I hadn't made since I first began. It should never have happened, Elle. You have my sincerest apology."
Elle dropped her gaze as she thought about that. After a moment, her hand slipped over to grasp his. "We should keep the blame on who it belongs," she murmured. "That . . . that animal!"
Accepting her statement as forgiveness, Bruce nodded. "Does Dick know?"
Elle's gaze now snapped up to his face; panic on it.
"No! No, and it's going to stay that way," she demanded.
"He has a right to know," Bruce told her.
Tears sprang to her eyes again as she shook her head vigorously. "No! No! You have to promise me you won't tell him!"
"Elle, he's going to feel your grief and know something is wrong, but not what it is."
"There is no reason for him to have to experience this," she insisted. "Please, Bruce! He can't know!"
"Like what you are experiencing right now," Bruce commented.
"It's more my fault than his," she told him. "Dick didn't know. He would only find a way to blame himself; you know he will!"
"I thought we were keeping the blame where it belongs?"
Elle grasped his jacket lapels and stared into his face; tears hovering on the edges of her lashes. "I'm begging you, Bruce. Don't tell him . . . Please! Don't do this!"
Hadn't he wanted to spare her the grief of losing a child only a short time ago? His shoulders slumped. He didn't want to lie to his son, but he, too, wanted to spare him this kind of pain. A small voice inside him warned him that this wasn't a good idea, but Bruce shoved it aside ruthlessly, and sent up second prayer in less than two hours from his first that this wasn't going to be a mistake.
"Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "But you need to seek some counseling. You are taking this very hard."
Her face scrunched up and a new trail of tears ran down her cheeks. "I only knew about it for a few hours. I only suspected it for a day," she said, staring down at her hands. She picked absentmindedly at the brace. "Nonna figured it out first and told me before she boarded the plane yesterday morning."
Bruce was silent; uncomfortable. This was far more emotion than he was used to dealing with at any given time. He knew he would be eyeing the door if it weren't at his back.
Elle's breath hitched. "B-But I loved it already . . . More than anything. And I miss it, already." Her hand crept up to her chest, clutching futilely at the hospital gown above her heart. "My heart is breaking . . . Bruce! How much worse could this hurt had I had the opportunity to actually meet this child and hold it in my arms? Is this pain what parenthood is all about?"
Bruce thought about the horrible aftermath of losing Jason; of the terrible close calls that Dick and Tim had experienced . . . Damian hadn't had anything happen to him that truly threatened his life as yet, but he knew; Bruce knew that that day was approaching and he dreaded it.
"All of that," he told her quietly, "and fear and regret; heartaches during their trials and hardships that they must face, but it is tempered with all of these moments of joy and times where you are just so proud that you think you cannot contain it all without bursting . . . It's worth it. For those moments of joy . . . they add up to a lifetime."
"I'm alive," she whispered. "So, Dick's alive. I figured as much, but I couldn't feel him. The doctor said he thought he was okay . . . Stabilized, at least."
When Bruce handed her another tissue, holding out the box for her, Elle took the entire thing. She was going to be needing it for a while longer, but the long crying jag over the course of the last hour was leaving her feeling hollow inside. And yet, still the tears came. She wiped her eyes again and blew her nose. It was embarrassing, but necessary. She needed good news.
"How is he? When can I see him," she asked.
"He's one floor above you," Bruce told her, "in ICU waiting for his own doctor to arrive. He's stable, but sedated. Leslie should be here soon, and she'll remove the bullet. We should see improvement after that."
Elle bit her lip. "Surgery," she whispered.
She knew it was necessary, but couldn't say whether or not this could be considered good news.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Bruce squeezed her hand. "Leslie's the best," he assured her. "She's pulled Dick's hide out of the fire before. Besides," he smiled, "I heard him tell you that he would make it. Dick always keeps his promises."
A smile hovered hesitantly on her lips.
"I should let you sleep," he said, standing up finally. "You've had an eventful night."
A watery laugh burst from her. "Eventful . . . right."
"I'm going to go check on Dick, and wait for the rest of the clan to arrive. Do you need anything before I go?"
Elle held up the box of tissues and shook it. "Another box, please."
Bruce nodded, but said nothing. She would have to work through her grief in her own way; no one could do it for her.
That bastard was somewhere in this same hospital, and Bruce thought of Elle's angry proclamation. She had expected him to be shocked, but Elle didn't realize how desperately that Bruce was hanging on to his vow at this very moment. He wanted nothing more than to find him and finish the job she had started, but . . . he couldn't.
While he hoped for Elle's sake that the man survived to be prosecuted, should Nameless up and die from his wounds, Bruce wouldn't be . . . displeased.
REACTIONS?
Whew! This was emotionally draining . . . It wasn't a decision made easily. I think most of you gave up on the child before I did, but ultimately this is to be a happy story. The sequel is fast approaching and you can expect great things happening in it.
What are your thoughts on Elle's decision to keep her miscarriage a secret from Dick?