The Way Back #7

Once the car stopped, Dodge waited for Vera to get out and lock the door behind her before he cautiously lifted his head. He was in a parking lot, outside a nondescript three-story box of a building. A loud roar made him duck once more, and he caught a glimpse of an airplane flying so low it seemed to be only a few feet overhead. He counted to ten slowly, and then teleported out of the car.

There were two other cars in the lot, as well as a large van. The building itself appeared to be dark and deserted.

Despite himself, he tensed and flattened himself against the side of the car as he heard another roar. This time, the plane was coming from the other direction and gaining altitude rapidly. He had to be on the mainland, and practically right next door to the airport. He smiled. At least, if he could get to a phone, he could tell the Bats where he was. The smile faded. He could, if they'd given him a number! Or a bat-signal. Or something. Well, he could still call the cops... He shook his head with a glower. If he did that, it was as good as saying that they were right and he wasn't cut out to join their little club. No, the only way he'd ever prove himself to them would be if he saved his family on his own. Then they'd beg him to join them, and he'd laugh right in their faces. Well... maybe if they begged and if they were really sorry for doubting him, and they apologized. Yeah, maybe then he'd join them-but they'd have to ask him nicely, first. He smiled. Very nicely.

Still caught up in his daydream, Dodge strode across the parking lot and tugged open the heavy front door. It creaked a little bit, but not too much. He pulled it carefully shut behind him. Ahead stretched a long corridor. The lights overhead were dim, but the floodlights from outside filtered in through a barred window at the opposite wall. At intervals, emergency lights sent their reflections down to the gray-tiled floor. The hall smelled like his school did when the janitor had just finished mopping-of strong chemical disinfectant with an almost-cloying scent of lemon mixed in. His running shoes squeaked slightly as he started walking. He winced and rose to his tiptoes. He didn't think anyone could hear him...

A hand clapped itself over the kerchief covering his mouth as an arm pulled his wrists roughly behind his back. He struggled, fighting to reach his belt buckle, even though he had no idea whether he'd be able to teleport out of his attacker's grip. Suddenly, a young woman's voice whispered incredulously, "Michael?"

Dodge struggled harder.

"Michael!" Vera's voice remained low, and somewhat muffled, but there was an authoritative edge to it that he'd never heard before. "Michael, a few doors down from here is a laboratory and it is not soundproof. If you yell, you're going to have a dozen people running out. Now, I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth, but I'm warning you, keep your voice down. Do you understand?"

Dodge fought once more, but he couldn't break free. Grudgingly, he nodded.

"Good," Vera sounded relieved. She spun him around to face her. "What are you doing here?"

Dodge realized that she was wearing a knitted mask that covered her hair and the lower portion of her face. He glowered but didn't answer.

"Michael? How did you know to come-"

"I followed you!" He nearly spat the words. "You... my dad trusted you and you..." He nearly hissed the next word. "Traitor!"

Vera winced. "What gave me away?" she asked.

Dodge blinked. Vera didn't sound the least bit smug or defensive. If anything, her tone was friendly, even curious. An instant later, his anger reasserted itself. "I saw you at Dad's office tonight. And..." He stopped. No point mentioning the hairpin. "Nothing."

Vera sighed. "I know what that must have looked like, but I was hoping to find your father's notes."

"What?" Dodge couldn't see how that was supposed to make things better.

Vera sighed once more. "Look, I wish I could explain, but I can't right now. I need you to come with me. You can either trust me and come willingly, or not trust me and I'll... raise my voice, but one way or another, you're coming. I promise you, I won't hurt you."

Dodge shot her a furious look. Then he allowed his shoulders to slump in defeat, and he forced himself to nod. Robin was still analyzing the evidence taken from the Lasky home. Maybe he'd even finished by now. There had to be some clue that would lead the Bats here. All Dodge had to do was hold out until they showed up. Feigning resignation, he allowed Vera to escort him, hoping all the while that she wouldn't look too closely at his belt.

This jump was different. Usually when Dodge used the belt, he felt a momentary, and not altogether unpleasant, shock. It reminded him of the summers he'd spent at camp, and when he'd go diving into the lake in the early mornings-that quick icy discomfort which passed almost as soon as he registered it.

Similarly, the sensations he generally felt in mid-teleport were mildly disconcerting and mercifully fleeting. He never thought about where he was when he transitioned, because it all happened so quickly-or at least it was supposed to.

Now, though, something was wrong. He sensed-in a way that transcended his senses-that his mother was with him, although he could not see or hear her. He couldn't see or hear anything. It wasn't blindness-even a blind person could see darkness, he supposed. At least, if he screwed his eyes shut, he could still see "dark". This was worse. It was like trying to see with a shoulder-or hear with a knee. "Mom?" He thought he whispered, but he couldn't even hear his own voice.

And then, there was an abrupt change in the atmosphere, and they were no longer alone. Something else was here with them... something hungry.

Dodge screamed without screaming. All at once, it didn't matter that he couldn't discern where his mother was, all he knew was that he had somehow placed himself in front of her, directly in the path of whatever was here with them. He wanted to shout to her to run, but she wouldn't hear him. And anyway, how could you run if you couldn't see where you were going? Never mind. They were going to die here, and nobody would ever know. Never mind. He imagined that he squared his shoulders and his scream became a yell of defiance. "Come and get us!" he raged. "I hope you choke!"

And suddenly, there was a new presence with them: bright, glorious, and yet seeming to carry a weight he could just barely begin to fathom. And he sensed the predator draw back, as though taking the newcomer's measure.

Dodge fought down his frustration. He could almost see what was going on, he could nearly understand what to do. Instead of emptiness and silence, it was as though he was now at the other extreme-too many sights and sounds-colors he couldn't give names to, noise beyond cacophony. It was a different kind of blindness and a different kind of deafness, but the result was the same: he couldn't make much sense of his surroundings. But he could tell that a battle was raging between the Hungry one and the Bright one. Those names, he guessed, were as good as any.

For a time, he waited, and tried to focus on his surroundings as his senses began to clear. This was not his fight-even he could see that, and the Bright one was doing well. And then, the Bright one faltered and the Hungry one lunged. And Dodge didn't care whose fight it was anymore, he had to do something!

He charged headlong into the fray, fists raised-and found himself lying flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. There was a paw with nails like knives descending toward his chest, and he tried to twist, but he was slow... so... slow...

He felt a sharp, stabbing pain and opened his mouth to scream. A bright bolt of energy slammed into the creature, forcing it back, and Dodge felt something grab hold of him with fingers like hot steel and yank him through a wall. There was another icy shock. Then, his eyes and ears started to tingle-as though they had been asleep. He frowned. That didn't sound exactly right, but he couldn't think of a better way to describe it. He was back in the room he'd just left, and it seemed as though only moments had passed in his absence. Except that almost all of the masked men were sitting on the floor with their hands behind their backs. One man stood over them, with Vera at his side.

Another person, cloaked and hooded, was bending over his father's prone figure. "Oracle," a woman's weary voice emanated from the cloak, "we need an ambulance. There is a man in critical condition, and I have only strength enough to ease his pain."

Dodge heard as if through a barrier. Something was wrong. It wasn't just the puddle of blood pooling beneath his father, though that was horrific enough. Somehow, Dodge felt as though he hadn't fully returned. As though a part of him still remained in that 'other space'.

He looked over his shoulder. His mother stood behind him, blinking in confusion. All at once, she screamed, "ARTHUR!"

As Colleen Lasky ran to her husband, Dodge reached out to her, but drew back in horror as his hand passed right through her arm. What was happening? And where... where was the belt that he'd seen her wearing. Almost automatically, he looked at his own waist. He still had his, but a second one was tangled up with it. He tried to work it free to no avail. It occurred to him that it might be easier to manage if he took off his own belt, first. When he tried to do so, however, he was horrified to discover that the buckle was smashed. Try as he might, he couldn't unjam it. The belt wouldn't come off.

He was stuck.

And then, the room seemed to be filled with paramedics and police and his father was on a stretcher and the woman in the cloak had moved away from Dad to stand next to him. She was saying something that sounded reassuring, only Dodge wasn't quite processing it.

Dodge blinked when the woman motioned to him with her hands, guiding him toward the fire door and out to one of the waiting ambulances. He shook his head, trying desperately to explain that he couldn't solidify, couldn't climb the steps into the vehicle without sinking through them.

I can compensate for that, her voice rang through his mind. Be at ease, Michael. In time, you will learn to do this yourself.

She knew his name. He barely had time to register that fact when he realized that there was a glowing field surrounding him, enveloping him from head to toe, like a second skin.

Walk, Michael. I can maintain the Armor of Ila for a considerable time without strain. Come.

Dodge obeyed. The 'armor' maintained a buffer between his feet and the floor tiles, keeping him from sinking. He brushed the doorframe as he left the building and felt its solidity even through the energy field. As the cloaked woman urged him along, he saw another ambulance pulling away, sirens blaring, and guessed his father was in that one. Dodge began to shake. Was Dad going to be okay? And, he wondered, what the heck had the belt done to him?

Please, the refrain in his mind started up again. Please, please, please...

Raven waited until she knew Dodge was being looked after before she quietly exited the metahuman ICU. She still didn't feel strong enough to chance teleportation, so rather than report face-to-face, she needed to find a quiet spot to contact Oracle and fill her in on the evening's events. She paused to study a floor directory, and then, after a moment's deliberation, headed toward the chapel. Part of her wanted to wait until the doctors had completed their examinations, but she suspected that such would be mere procrastination. She had been on the Astral Plane. She had seen the gulo and she knew its power. She knew what had to have happened. The only thing missing was the official confirmation.

She pulled open the chapel door to a startled "Oh!" Mrs. Lasky had clearly been in the act of exiting the small room.

"Forgive me," Raven said quickly. "I didn't mean to disturb you. You're..." She hesitated. Nobody who had just been abducted, nearly killed, and returned to find half her family in critical condition could conceivably be "all right". "You are unhurt?"

Colleen nodded. "You startled me is all." She laughed, a fraction too loudly. "Oh. You meant from... before. Yes, I'm fine." She leaned heavily against the wall. "No, I'm not. My husband's in a coma, fighting for his life, and nobody will tell me about my son's condition." She looked up. "You were with him, weren't you?"

Raven nodded uneasily. She didn't enjoy raw, primal, emotions such as those now surging beneath Colleen's brittle façade.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?"

Faced with the direct inquiry, Raven could only nod once more. "I believe I do, although I hope I'm wrong."

"What?" It was nearly a sob. "Please. I need to know. Good or bad, you have to tell me!"

Raven took a deep breath. "The belts that your husband created were designed to travel the Astral Plane. The Plane, however, has an affinity for certain components within the belt-elements that have come from the Plane and remained in this world only under specifically controlled circumstances. The Plane, however... calls to these elements. So long as their concentration is small, the risk is negligible."

"Risk?" Colleen repeated, turning paler.

"Of remaining trapped upon that plane of existence. When your son teleported the last time, he was holding fast to your belt. In effect, he teleported it away from you in the same instant that you both arrived upon the Astral Plane. At that moment, he was carrying double the normal concentration of those elements I'd mentioned. It was still only a small amount, but it was sufficient to awaken a gulo."

"Gulo? Colleen wrinkled her forehead. That... thing that attacked us?"

"You were in no danger from it," Raven stated. "You had nothing to attract it. Your son was another matter. I had hoped to engage the beast on my own and return you both here, unharmed. I do not know now whether I would have succeeded. However, the gulo was able to... mark your son. As a result, he is now tethered to the Astral Plane by a bond we dare not sever, lest he be lost to us permanently."

Colleen sagged against the wall, ashen-faced. "You said a moment ago that this... Astral Plane... calls to its own. You're saying that if we... if we break this... tether..." she stared at Raven. "The tether isn't keeping him bound to the Astral Plane, is it? It's holding him here. Whatever that thing did to him, it's as if it made it Michael's natural state to be... to be... Astral?"

Raven nodded. "As good a term as any."

"Can the doctors help him?"

Raven shook her head. "I fear not." Seeing the despondency in the other woman's eyes, she added softly, "but, perhaps, I can. I warn you," she continued, "I cannot change your son's condition. But I know much of the Astral Plane. I can teach this to your son. I can help him to resist the currents which pull him towards it. It will be a... treatment for his condition, but it cannot be a cure."

Colleen absorbed that. "Do what you can," she said finally. "Help my son."

Bruce and Jim had just finished clearing away the breakfast dishes when the doorbell rang.

"Mr. Wayne?" A heavyset man in his late thirties typed something into his Blackberry. "Bryan Krait. I'm your social worker." He extended a stubby-fingered hand toward the two men. Bruce shook it first.

"I hope you don't mind my stopping by unannounced," Krait continued with a thin smile. "I always find that I prefer my first meeting with a client to be more informal. You understand?" The right corner of his mouth stretched, causing his cheek to puff out slightly.

Bruce thanked whatever powers might be that he'd kept up with his meditation. "Of course," he said with feigned affability even as he sized up the newcomer. "Please. Come in." He reminded himself not to act too friendly. He had nothing to hide, at this moment-besides his annoyance at the surprise visit, of course. Still, if he acted too open and aboveboard, it would likely arouse Krait's suspicions. Then it would take even longer to get him out of here.

"We've just finished breakfast," Jim volunteered, following Bruce's lead. "But can I offer you anything?"

From the outraged expression on the younger man's face, anyone would have thought that Jim was attempting to bribe him. And with a ridiculously low sum, at that. "Certainly not!" He ran his index fingertip along the top of the wainscoting then brought the digit close to his face. "Humph," he grunted. "Well. At least you're keeping it livable." He pulled out his Blackberry again. "Now, I understand your doctor has recommended you purchase some fish. Has this been done?"

Bruce nodded. "They're in the den," he said evenly. "This way." I am a mountain. I am solid. Unchanging. The winds blow, the sun beats down, the rains fall but I am unaffected. I am serene. I want to lift Krait up by the collar of his shirt and the seat of his pants and throw him through the bay win- He caught himself. "Just through here," he beckoned.

I am a mountain...

"What's on the agenda for Monday?" Barbara asked a week later.

Dick finished the last of his fries. "Bruce has his session with Alex, so I'm meeting him after it again. We'll probably have an early supper and then, he asked if I could give him a hand with a few things at the manor. I'll patrol from there."

Barbara picked up her plate and wheeled over to the sink. "Oh."

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing." She slammed the plate into the sink and hurled the cutlery down on top of it. "Absolutely nothing."

She wheeled back, grabbed the ketchup and mustard and rolled over to the fridge.

"Hey." Dick jumped up and intercepted her on her way back.

"Out of my way, FBW."

"Hey, talk to me." She hadn't used that nickname since he'd admitted to her that he actually disliked it. Considering that Barbara had a photographic memory, this was not a good sign. He, however, did not have a photographic memory. Which left him at a disadvantage here and now. "What am I...?" Not her birthday. That's not for another two months. And our first anniversary living together isn't until October. It's barely July. So why was this Monday so impor... Oh. "Monday," he said softly, "is the second anniversary of our getting back together."

"Bingo."

Dick winced. "I'm sorry, Babs. It totally slipped my mind."

"Obviously."

"Babs..."

"It's fine, Dick," she said wearily. "I know. Are you planning on making a routine of this? Getting together after his sessions?"

"They take a lot out of him," Dick's tone was placating. "He tries to hide it, but I can tell. I just want him to know that he's not going through it alone."

Barbara choked off a laugh. "Not going through it alone? Dick, between you and my dad, when's the last time he was alone? He knows he can count on you-on us. But that doesn't mean that you have to spend every free minute at the manor!" She turned away. "I knew going into the relationship that with the kind of lives we both lead, there'd have to be a bit of give and take. I just... wasn't planning on it being me doing most of the giving," she sighed, "and you doing some of the giving, and..."

"And Bruce doing all of the taking?" Dick's voice was suddenly colder.

"I don't mean it like that."

"Actually, I think you do. Babs, he's been through-"

"I know what he's been through. What he's going through. And it's hard and it's hell and it stinks, but you can't always be there for him just because, for once, he's letting you!"

For a long moment, Dick just looked at her. Then, "You're wrong Babs." He took a ragged breath. "You're..." He exhaled. "I'm going out for some fresh air."

"Dick, I-"

"Save it for later," he cut her off. "I need some air." He started to leave, then spun around. "And something else to think about? All this time, one of our biggest issues with him was that he wouldn't talk things out. Well, Babs, he's trying. And I'll be damned if I'm going to tell him I don't want to hear it."

Barbara flinched. "But you'll say it to me," she said softly.

The barb hit home. Dick winced. "I-"

Barbara turned her back. "Go ahead, Dick. Get your fresh air. You'll probably have to drive up to Bristol to get away from the city smog anyway. But things can't go on like this forever. Sooner or-"

"Later," Dick cut her off. He stepped out quickly and pulled the door shut after him.

Barbara lowered her head as her hands clenched to fists in her lap. What was this situation doing to them?