Batman: Lost to the Night part IV

“Before I tell you anything,” Carter continued, “I need to know what you’re offering.”

Cobblepot nodded. “That’s only fair. You understand, of course, that I’m looking to procure this information for a client of mine. I’m authorised to go as high as one hundred fifty thousand in untraceable diamonds, if your story is accurate.”

The former federal agent snorted. “If that were true, you’d have started by offering sixty. Just because I’m not part of your regular coterie doesn’t mean I don’t know how people like you do business.”

“Of course not,” the diminutive businessman agreed. Absently, he adjusted his monocle. “However, if you were hoping for a more attractive offer, you’ll need to demonstrate that what you’re providing is worth that amount. How is it, Mr. Carter, that you just happen to have the information that we seek?”

Carter leaned back. “Let me give you some background, Penguin,” he said, smirking a little as Cobblepot flinched. “Oh, that’s right. You’ve reformed.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Carter,” he replied, “that you may run any checks you wish. You will discover that I cannot be directly linked to any criminal acts committed within the last 5 years.”

“I know,” Carter snapped. “You hide your tracks too well for that.” He raised a hand as the lounge owner opened his mouth to respond. “Spare me. I’m not with the agency anymore, and I could care less about your set-up. Here’s what’s going to happen.”

He whipped a pad out of his breast pocket and scrawled a number on it. “This, Mr. Cobblepot, is the number of a special account in Belize. After our conversation, you are going to get on the phone to your client and tell him what I’m about to tell you. You will ask him how much my information is worth. You will then deposit that sum into the account. If the amount is to my liking, we’ll meet again, at which point I will reveal more. By the way, most of what I’m going to tell you can be corroborated. You’ll have to trust me on the rest. Do we have a deal?”

Penguin removed his monocle, pulled out a clean cloth and began to wipe it. “This isn’t going to be one of those long stories, I trust? My time is valuable, after all.”

“So’s my information.” Carter leaned forward. “Alright. As I told you initially, I was once assigned to Senator Pullman. At one time, the senator had… dealings with a man who called himself ‘Savant’…”

“Huntress will be with you tonight,” Dick said.

Tim nodded, as he used a broken piece of toast to mop up his egg-yolks. “And Cass comes back next week?”

“Still up in the air,” Dick admitted. “Babs does, but depending on whether this doctor needs to run more tests, Cass might stay longer.”

“Alone in Ivytown?” Tim asked dubiously. “I know she handled herself alright in Bludhaven, but she was living in a part of the city that had a lot of different types of people living there, so she didn’t really stand out. And Alfred checked up on her. A lot. Ivytown’s pretty white-bread. And socially… As much as she’s improved, she’s still going to be noticed.”

Dick helped himself to another piece of toast. “First,” he said, “she’s not moving there, just visiting. Second, Ivytown might not get the same mix of people that a place like Gotham or Bludhaven would, but it’s a university town. The campus is going to be diverse. And third, they’re staying with somebody in our line of work, who knows to keep an eye on her. Babs spoke to him about the situation.”

Tim nodded. “The guy taking over for Ray Palmer, you mean?” At Dick’s surprised nod, the teenager grinned. “There aren’t too many of us based in that part of the country. It’s not that big a stretch. So how much did Babs tell him?”

Dick smiled back. “The Atom received notification that a couple of people of Oracle’s acquaintance have reason to be in his area, and need accommodations, no questions asked. She’s taking advantage of Cass’ situation to get a feel first-hand for how this guy works.”

He took a bite of his toast, chewed and swallowed. “To change the subject, you have no problems working with Huntress?”

“Me?” Tim asked. “Nah, we’ve teamed up together before, remember? Don’t worry. Scarecrow’s going down tonight.”

Dick’s hand froze on the milk carton. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just… Huntress and I will handle it.”

“Tim…”

The younger man sighed. “Look, I’m not saying it’s intentional but ever since Hush…” His voice trailed off.

“Yes?”

“Dick. When was the last time that Batman sent an inmate back to Arkham when he didn’t have Robin or Batgirl backing him up?” In an undertone, he added, “And they’re the ones who take down the escapee. Every single time.”

“You think I…”

Tim shifted position uncomfortably. “Don’t jump all over me for saying this: if the perp is fresh out of Blackgate, you’ve usually got him tied up on the roof of GCPD Headquarters within 24 to 48 hours. On the other hand, you couldn’t find Killer Croc for almost a week. Killer Croc. He’s not exactly Mr. Miracle when it comes to escape artistry.”

“That’s not…” The protest died on Dick’s lips. Was Tim right? Had he been unconsciously holding back when it was an Arkham escapee on the loose? He’d said he’d do anything to protect Bruce but he couldn’t have been… Dick mentally reviewed the last month. And the month before that. Without a photographic memory, he’d need his reports to go back further, but it looked as though the younger vigilante did have a point. “Why didn’t you say something about this before?”

Tim sighed. “I didn’t want to leave myself open for anything.”

“Come again?”

Tim’s voice was barely a whisper. “It would have sounded like I was attacking you for… for watching out for Bruce. I mean, I haven’t been to visit him in months. I can’t stand to see… I look at him and I think ‘at this time last year he was…’ only now…” Tim bit his lip. “It’s been over a year since he was arrested, right?”

Dick did some quick calculations. Bruce had been in Arkham a little under a year, but Alfred’s death, and the arrest had come about six weeks earlier. Dick had been to the cemetery not that long ago. Somehow, he hadn’t linked the two events--Bruce’s arrest and Alfred’s death--to the same date. The funeral came a few days later. That’s probably why you think of them separately. He nodded.

Tim scarcely noticed. “I don’t know if he hears me when I talk to him, and I haven’t got a clue what to say anymore.”

“I usually just fill him in on what we’re up to,” Dick said. “And he’s starting to come out of it now. You should stop by. You’re done with finals, now. You’ve got the time.” He hadn’t known that Tim had stopped visiting. He should have suspected, though. Since last October, when Chemo had… “There’s still no word about Dana, right?”

Tim shook his head. “At this time last year, she was getting better. She was going to be upgraded to ‘outpatient status’. They… they gave her town privileges,” he said.

Dick nodded. He knew the story. Tim had gone over it countless times during the weeks immediately following the Bludhaven disaster. Dana had left the rest home to go shopping in downtown Bludhaven. And catastrophe had struck. Deathstroke and the Society released Chemo on Bludhaven. And, just like that, a city became a ruin. The death toll was over one hundred thousand. Dana Drake was one of the over thirty-five thousand whose whereabouts were yet unconfirmed. The day Chemo landed, Dick had returned early to find Tim attacking the punching bag he’d recently installed in Gordon’s basement.

“Go away, Dick. I’m fine.”

“No. You’re not. Don’t give me that garbage.”

“Okay. I will be fine. How’s that?”

“Tim…”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me everything’s going to be alright. It hasn’t happened so far. And don’t tell me you’re here for me. I know that. What I need to know is for how long?”

Unconsciously, Dick took a step toward the angry teen. “What do you mean?”

Tim whirled to face him. “Everyone leaves eventually, haven’t you figured it out yet? Mom, Dad… Steph… Leslie…” His voice broke. “Alfred. Bruce.” His eyes filled with tears. “Okay, every so often, it’s not ‘forever’. After the mob war,” his voice lowered, “I thought I’d lost… never mind. The crunch came and you came back. But then it can make you wonder… whether everything can go back to how it was, or if it’s all just… changed too much.”

Dick flinched. He opened his mouth, but Tim cut him off.

“And if things do go back to normal, you got to ask yourself: how long, this time?”

Dick waited until he was sure Tim was done. How long had the boy had these doubts? “If you’re thinking about what happened after I walked out on Bruce,” Dick said quietly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you when we met up in,” his voice caught, “in Bludhaven. No excuses. I was angry at my life and I took it out on you.”

“You really think I care about that now?” Tim demanded, as he spun back and delivered a series of hard jabs at the punching bag.

“Maybe. And I know you did then.”

“Well, maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it’s better not to care. Maybe then… I wouldn’t… it wouldn’t hurt so bad.” He didn’t shake off the hand that Dick placed gently on his shoulder. “How did Bruce do it? Close himself off like that?”

“Is that really what you want?”

“No!” He shouted. He continued in a softer tone, “I don’t think so. Not really. But… I know why he wanted it.”

Dick sighed. “It doesn’t work, Tim. It didn’t for me. It didn’t for Bruce. It won’t for you either. Tim… look at me.”

Slowly, the boy complied. Dick placed both hands firmly on Tim’s shoulders. “This shouldn’t have happened. Not to Dana, not to anybody else in the ‘Haven, and definitely not to people like you and me who lived in that place long enough to have,” he used the present tense unthinkingly, without hesitation, “people we care about there. But it did happen, and there’s nothing that we can do to change it. Now, listen. I’m about to drive out to the hangar, as soon as I grab some emergency supplies. We’ll never make it on the road, but one of the ‘copters might--”

Tim blinked at him. “We?”

“If you think you’re up to it, anyway. Babs is calling in some reserves to keep an eye on Gotham, tonight.”

Tim hesitated. He looked at his hands, and then shifted his gaze to the punching bag. He closed his eyes. “I… if I go out there tonight,” he whispered, “I might forget about… I might… if I found Deathstroke, or… or anyone else from the Society now, I don’t know if I could bring them in. And I do know that I’d do everything I could to make sure they wouldn’t be able to do something like this again.” He met Dick’s eyes, half-daring the older vigilante to try to talk him out of it. When Dick didn’t, Tim looked away. “And if I’m thinking that way…” He broke free of Dick’s hands, “I need to stay here tonight.”

He was about to resume his attack on the punching bag when he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

“I told you a long time ago that it’s better to be mature enough to realize your limits. That’s one thing you’ve got over me. Take all the time you need.” He added lightly, “I’m not going Robin shopping for awhile, yet.”

Tim gave him a watery smile and delivered a vicious left hook to the bag.

Dick had thought that Tim had worked through things. But… “It’s not easy,” Dick admitted. “Sometimes I do think that if I missed a day, he wouldn’t notice.”

“But, you still…”

“He’s been there for me too many times to count. And I do know that if it were me in Arkham for the last year, he wouldn’t give up.” He half-smiled. “He used to go play chess with Two-Face, did you know that?” He didn’t wait for Tim’s reply. “If he’d pay social calls on someone who tries to kill him half the time…” There was no need for Dick to complete the sentence.

“Two nights ago, he finally started coming out of it. He didn’t say much, but,” now how had that lump gotten into his throat? Dick drew a deep breath. “He asked me if I was coming back.”

Tim looked away. “I… I’ll try to see him before I start at SFSU in the fall.”

“You decided on that one, then.” Dick’s tone was carefully neutral. He’d known that the application deadline had passed, known that Tim had been accepted at several excellent colleges in both the Gotham and San Francisco areas. Somehow, though, he had never asked Tim which school’s offer he meant to accept.

Tim nodded. “I sent the forms off weeks ago. I just wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject.” He exhaled. “I didn’t want it to look like I’m abandoning Gotham. I mean, you need me, I’m on the next flight back. Or Raven can teleport me.”

“And if Bruce needs you?”

Tim braced himself against the counter top. “I can’t stand seeing him like that, Dick. I’m sorry. I can’t. I couldn’t deal with it when Bane broke his back. I don’t know if I can handle it now. Maybe it’ll be easier if I write to him. He never answers letters anyway… it’ll be kinda like normal.”

“Tim.”

Tim spun back to face him. “Do you want me to lie, Dick? Do you want me to say I’ll fly in every weekend and sit there and try not to cry while he tries to pretend I’m not hurting him more by being there?” He blinked rapidly. “I can’t—I don’t want to see him like that. I’m sorry. I wish I could be like you and hold it all in until I was outside, but I don’t think I am.” He turned away. “I’ll… write to him. Honest.”

Moments ticked by in silence. Finally, Dick said, “Try to see him once before you go. Even if you think it’s useless. And Tim?” He paused. “Sometimes it’s not enough to know your limits. Sometimes you have to push them.”

Tim paused in the kitchen doorway. “Sometimes,” he said, without turning, “they push back. And it hurts. I… I can’t hurt anymore. I’ve got to get out of here.” He walked away quickly.

Dick frowned. Tim didn’t sound like he was just talking about leaving for his summer job.

Bruce didn’t speak during the short trip from his cell to one of the upper floors of the asylum. He was mentally arming himself for battle.

Be polite. Be pleasant. Pretend I’m at one of Gotham Gertie’s endless soirees. All I have to do is interact and not allow myself to become entangled in any commitments that I can’t pull out of gracefully.

It had been a long time. In the aftermath of the mob war, he had more or less withdrawn from the Gotham social scene. He’d let people think that he was still reeling from the loss of Kord Technologies, and from the impact on WE’s stock standing. He’d started turning down invitations, even to charity balls. Oh, he’d still sent generous donations, but he’d found that he no longer had the patience or energy to waste talking to people who were as empty-headed as he’d pretended to be. And now, for nearly a year, these therapy sessions were the extent of his social calendar. Bruce grimaced. He was out of practice.

Can the excuses. You’ve been playing this part for fifteen years. And it had gotten old. So tiresome, in fact, that some part of him had been relieved when the mask had come off. Nobody would ever believe that Bruce Wayne was a shallow, vapid… idiot now. The congressmen who had laughed at him when he’d tried to save Gotham from being declared a No Man’s Land… did they laugh now?

“Here we are, Bruce,” the orderly announced, knocking smartly on the wooden door.

So soon?

The door opened, and Alex smiled gravely, as he extended his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Bruce took it. “Good to see you again, Mr. Wayne.”

“You want him in the chair, or on the couch?” The orderly asked.

Alex released his hand and glanced up with ill-concealed annoyance. “That’s really up to the patient. You can come back in an hour.”

“Um… actually, we have to wait for him.”

The doctor sighed. “You can do that outside the room. Just close the door behind you.” He turned to Bruce. “You can make yourself comfortable.” He sat down at his desk. “I’m finishing up with something.”

Bruce blinked. The orderly pushed the chair farther into the office. Then he and the other three attendants left, closing the door quietly behind them.

Bruce looked around. There was no ‘treatment couch’. Instead, in addition to the desk and swivel chair, the office contained a contemporary sofa upholstered in teal, with two matching armchairs, grouped around a double pedestal coffee table. On each side of the sofa, there was a well-appointed bookcase. Like the coffee table and desk, the wood had a cherry finish.

“You can take a book, if you’d like.”

Bruce ignored the offer. He was too busy steeling himself for the ordeal ahead.

Alex didn’t even glance up, so intent was he on his writing.

After a few moments of this, Bruce began to wonder. Was Alex deliberately trying to wear him down? He glanced at the desk. Something caught his eye and he leaned forward in angry disbelief. Alex was calmly filling out a crossword puzzle.

“What are you doing?”

Alex raised his eyes. “Trying to find a ten-letter synonym for ‘prediction’. The fourth letter’s a ‘G’. Got any ideas?”

“What?”

“If you’re bored, there’s plenty of reading material on the shelves. Pick something.”

He didn’t sound sarcastic or insulting. If anything, his tone was downright friendly. Bruce frowned. Obviously, Alex was playing some sort of game, but what? Bruce slowly stood up and walked to the window. Hesitantly, he pushed aside the ersatz silk curtain. The window was barred, of course, but he could see the exercise yard, and the walls, and a bit of the fields beyond them. He could see the sky. He could see it all. He just couldn’t go outside. Abruptly Bruce let the curtain fall back into place.

With a mental sigh, he sat down on the sofa, facing the desk, and waited for Alex to say something. He watched, as the doctor frowned and flipped the pages to the answers at the back of the book, then wrote some more. When he turned to a new puzzle, Bruce felt more than a little irritated. Finally, Alex looked up.

“Okay, time’s almost up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bruce gaped at him. “That’s it?”

“Well, there are another three minutes to go, but yes, basically.”

“You just sat here doing crossword puzzles for almost an hour and…”

Alex nodded. “Do you want to be here?” He asked.

“What?”

“If I wrote out your discharge papers today, would you want to go home?”

Bruce was silent.

“That’s what I thought,” Alex said. “Simply put: if you want to stay in Arkham, then there’s no point in wasting my time or yours trying to get you well enough to leave. So, consider these sessions a chance for you to spend an hour in a different environment, and again, feel free to avail yourself of the reading material. Oh! You wouldn’t by any chance know a nine-letter name of a songbird? Starts with ‘s’ and the sixth and seventh letters are ‘ch’?”

There was a light tap on the door. Alex smiled. “We’re done,” he called. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Wayne.”

As they wheeled him back toward his cell, Bruce realized that Alex was actually doing him a favor. There need be no concern now that the visits would stop, or that he would be forced to discuss painful topics with a complete stranger. He was safe. He could relax. This was probably the best arrangement that he could have asked for. Then… why did he feel… cheated?

Dick shifted the receiver to his left ear. “I know, Babs. That was my first instinct, too. But if I hit him too hard, Helena’d be stuck tackling Crane alone tonight… any word on when Dinah and Gypsy get back?”

He sighed. The rest of the Birds were undercover and maintaining radio silence. It might be days before they checked in. “So how’s this all-new Atom?” He laughed at her reply. “We were all young, once… hey!” He sputtered. “That was completely uncalled for, Babs!” He said, trying to sound outraged. “I guess that’s what a kid like me gets, dating an older woman…” He jerked the telephone away from his ear barely in time to avoid her shriek of protest.

He paused a beat. “Someone can dish it out…” he teased.

“Don’t give me that,” Barbara snapped. “Buster you are sooooo lucky I’m two states away from you right now—”

“And that you love me?”

“That too, and don’t change the subject. And don’t laugh!” She ordered. He had a damned infectious laugh. She managed to hold out for a half-moment before succumbing.

“About Tim,” she said, sobering.

“I know I can’t push it. It’s just…”

“He doesn’t have the same relationship with Bruce that you do. With him it was always a… a working partnership. He liked the work, but he always felt he had the option of walking away—”

“I could’ve done that,” Dick started to say.

“If Batman hadn’t fired you, would you have?”

Dick hesitated. “If my parents were alive and didn’t want me in the suit… maybe. Maybe…”

“How about if he outed your secret identity to me because you missed one check-in? In the early days when you both thought ‘Batgirl’ was some sort of hanger-on.”

“Hey, I never thought you were a hanger-on,” he said. “But I see your point. Still… to just walk away like that…”

Barbara sighed. “Now that I think about it, I understand. More than I want to. After I got shot, I pushed everyone away. Some people… didn’t come back. Some of them were people I could have sworn I could count on, no matter what. But in the final analysis, if I tell people over and over again that I don’t want to see them, if I don’t return their phone calls, and barely talk to them if they confront me… Even if I promise myself that the next time they call, I’ll pick up, can I blame them if they took the hint after I let it go to voice mail for the twenty-fifth time?”

“You’re saying, you think Tim’s right?”

“I don’t think ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ even enters into it this time. Bruce needs support, yes. Tim’s had a lot of things hit him in a very short period of time. If he really can’t be there for him, right now, then… whether he should be is a moot point. It might be worse for both of them if Tim just goes because we ‘guilted’ him into it.” She lowered her voice. “If you’d been that way when you were around me… and I know that’s what I accused you of, but Dick, if you’d really been that way, I swear I would’ve thrown something at you. Like my printer.”

On the other end of the phone, Dick winced and rubbed his head. “I hear what you’re saying, Babs.”

“But you still want to throttle him.”

“Yes.”

“He’ll expect that, knowing how devoted you are to Bruce. Probably lie low for a while. If you can wait ‘til Cass and I get back, though. I’ll lure him in for you.”

Dick laughed. “I got to go. Stack of copy to proof.”

“Is it really a night off, if you’re working on your other job?”

“Yes,” Dick said fervently. “By the way, I gave Bruce your regards.”

“And?”

Dick was silent.

Barbara sighed. “I’ll be back end of the week. Probably with Cass.” Then, almost shyly, “I love you.”

“Love you too, Babs.”