Chapter 31 - Hypotheticals
It was useless. It had been three days, and staring at the conference flyers still did nothing to jog Bruce's memory. All it did was make him restless to supervise Wayne Enterprises and Gotham's crime as well. He was making decent progress in physical therapy, but nothing short of being released tomorrow would satisfy him.
Not knowing the exact timeframe for total recovery was the worst part. The doctors could only give him a range: two to four months. Half or double, depending on the perspective. A maddening, ambiguous limbo.
The therapists quickly learned not to attempt conversation with Bruce Wayne during his sessions. They presumed he wanted to maintain an austere distance for the sake of his billionaire image. Never would they have suspected the true reason – that his brain was running a hundred computations of the past, present and future. As such, his speech capabilities temporarily went offline.
And the one thought that consumed him most often?
That physical therapy may be a monumental waste of time, if he ended up never wearing Batman's cape again.
He'd entertained a variety of contingencies, hoping one might offer a viable solution. Selina hiring her sister as a live-in nanny… Alfred forsaking all Batman-related duties in order to care for the twins… Selina ditching her dance studio to manage acting or modeling careers for the twins… all absurd or untenable.
Besides, none of them resolved the ultimate problem: Batman's mortality.
Even if he managed to screen a nanny to his satisfaction (highly unlikely to begin with), there was no one he could hire to guarantee his longevity. To prevent him from ending right back in a hospital bed like this again… or worse.
It was one thing to ask Selina to endure the risks of his nocturnal career. She wasn't far removed from that life herself. She'd lived those same risks, understood the carnal thrill of outrunning them. So while it would be nice to forsake Batman for her sake alone, it just wasn't quite compelling enough.
But children… infants… that was cosmically different.
Different, yes – but was it enough? That was the question adding unseen weight to his shoulders during morning PT that day. It made everything ache dully, especially his head. Sinking down into his bed afterward, he grunted in irritation – he'd sat on something. Alfred's brochure folder had been tucked beneath the sheets. Bruce swatted it to the floor, annoyed.
As the contents spilled out, one of the pages caught his eye. It was a hand-written note, and even from this distance, he recognized Alfred's penmanship. I didn't see that in there before. Must have been stuck to another sheet.
He picked it up and was as still as a statue while he read:
Master Bruce,
I am sorry for this indirect communication, but I felt it was the best way to share my thoughts without being rushed or interrupted. Hospitals just don't have the best setting or privacy.
After Madame Selina told me about your father's journal, I did some digging of my own. Attached to the back of this letter is a photograph of your mother, Martha. It was taken at one of the many charity galas she organized, and shows her receiving a lifetime achievement award for her work. Impressive for a woman in her early forties. I have several other articles I'd be happy to share if you like.
The point of all this is to demonstrate that, as the cliché goes, not all heroes wear capes. Your mother was a legend in her own right. Though she never donned a mask or slipped out of the manor after dark, her social justice work impacted Gotham no less than Batman's. I can say this because I've had the privilege of working alongside both her and her son for many, many years – and am uniquely qualified to compare them.
I won't beat around the bush. I have but two questions for your consideration:
If a trust-fund socialite like Martha Wayne could deliver justice effectively, and without violence, might it be possible for her son to as well?
If Martha were alive today, would she want her legacy honored with fisticuffs and calculated revenge? Or with altruism and civility?
Fate has generously offered you a second chance, when it could have easily ended you. Please do not take this for granted. I beg you to use this time for deep self-reflection. Consider that life is nothing without change, and life may now be handing you another way of honoring your parents. Not by being a vigilante, but by embracing the family you would have enjoyed as a child, had your parents lived.
Please know I write these thoughts with the utmost care and respect. Whether or not you wish to discuss this during my future visits, I will follow your lead. Just promise me you'll give it the thought it deserves.
Loyally yours,
Alfred
As Alfred half predicted, Bruce opted not to discuss the contents of that letter when next they met. Bruce made a few oblique references to having a lot on his mind, and appreciating how everyone was patiently respecting his healing process. Anything beyond that, Alfred knew better than to dig right now.
It was enough that Bruce agreed to see him still. At least he didn't resent his butler for putting such poignant thoughts to paper.
Astonishingly, that wasn't the only show-stopping document Bruce received that week. When Selina arrived one day with a large tan envelope in hand, Bruce knew immediately what it was.
Carmine's list. The list of all major mafia bosses he'd promised by month's end. Selina even left Bruce with his own copy to browse, handing it to him with a distinctive "I told you so" look.
Bruce had no choice but to admit that her faith in Carmine was indeed well-placed. Browsing the list of Italian names, he shook his head in wonder. Never in a thousand years would he have thought it possible – Gotham's most notorious, ruthless mafia leader leaving it all in the dust, just like that. Truth really was stranger than fiction.
It was all Bruce could talk about at Lois and Clark's next visit. He prohibited them from publishing anything in the media yet, lest Carmine's associates flee or retaliate.
Lois glanced over the list before handing it to Clark. "Something tells me we won't ever be able to write anything about this," she commented. "Even after they're all caught."
"Probably not," concurred Clark. "The risk will never fully go away."
Bruce nodded. "Carmine will need to do witness protection."
"You bet," replied Lois.
Leaning back against the bed pillows, Bruce stretched both arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. "I hate that I can't be out there, protecting him now."
"I'm sure Carmine has plenty of hiding spots he can use," Clark smirked.
"Still," sighed Bruce. "I can't wait until I'm back where I'm supposed to be."
Clark and Lois slowly looked at each other with mirrored concern. Was Bruce really alluding to what it sounded like?
"Um, Bruce?" Clark said quietly. It took a moment, but Bruce looked over casually. Lois nodded encouragingly for Clark to continue. "Bruce, you're not… planning to return as Batman, are you?"
Bruce flinched. "Of course I am."
"Have you discussed this with Selina?" Clark's concern was obviously growing.
"I will eventually."
"You need to tell her, and the sooner the better," insisted Lois.
Bruce officially did not like the track of this conversation. Bristling, he was about to tell the Kents to mind their own business. But considering how intertwined they'd been with this whole situation since day one, he thought better of it.
"Did Lois try talking you out of returning as Superman, Clark?" Bruce flung at him.
"That's comparing apples and oranges," Clark reasoned. "There are several differences between my 'downtime' last year and yours. Mine wasn't caused by a malicious attack, I know how to avoid it in the future, I'm not human…"
"And there it is, the old 'you're just a human' argument," scoffed Bruce. "You of all people should know better than that."
"Look, I realize it must be extremely frustrating to be stuck in here, day after day," Clark empathized. "But don't be so impatient that you skip over legitimate considerations."
"Or so proud that you skip over talking with your wife," added Lois.
"I'll talk to her," Bruce reiterated. "Eventually."
As if on cue, Jonathan Kent began fussing from his car seat. Lois removed his nap cover and lifted him out, soothing him on her shoulder.
"'Eventually' might sound fine now," Lois advised, "but let me tell you something, Bruce. Having any meaningful conversation with just one newborn around is almost impossible… I can only imagine what it will be like with two. You really shouldn't wait to talk things through with Selina."
Bruce crossed his arms defensively. "This is the last place I want to discuss it. This cold, ugly room… I swear it feels smaller every day."
"I can understand that," Lois acknowledged. "Which is why you should schedule a 'babymoon' as soon as you get out."
"For all we know, I could end up getting out just before Selina goes into labor."
Clark smirked. "Come on. We've all heard the nurses comment on how well you're doing. It won't be that long."
"Glad you're optimistic about that much, at least," Bruce said disdainfully.
Lois ignored his jibe as she juggled an increasingly upset Jonathan. "Well, we need to get Jonathan home. But please, Bruce, consider a babymoon. If nothing else, you and Selina deserve it after all you've been through these past months."
That much was certainly true, Bruce conceded quietly as they departed. And by the time the door swung shut behind them, he'd already thought of the perfect location for a retreat.