The Way Back #22

Earlier

Jim hadn't expected Bruce to be up when he returned to the manor at eight that same morning, but Bruce was already awake and speaking on the telephone.

"So, that's it, then," he was saying. "Those are my options." Then, sharply, "you know better than that, Barbara. Do not, repeat, do not involve Waller in this. Not on either side."

Jim blinked. "Waller? Amanda Waller? What's going on?"

Bruce held up a hand. "Is Dick awake? No. Just wake him. Have him meet me in the cave. Let me tell him. Now, about Helena. Is there any way..." He smiled. "I appreciate that. Alright. Keep monitoring police band and GPS. Let me know if a squad car gets within five miles of here." He hung up the phone, walked over to the kitchen table, and slumped into a chair.

Jim drew closer. "Bruce? What's going on?"

Bruce sighed. "The others will be here shortly. I'm just going to wake Tim and look in on Helena." He smiled wearily. "I came to some conclusions last night. I'd hoped that they were flawed. They weren't. I'll explain downstairs."

"Bruce..."

He smiled again, more warmly this time. "If it helps, even knowing then what I do now, I think I'd still have done things more or less the same. Put another pot of coffee on? We'll need it."

--

Dick pulled into the cave and all but flew out of the car. Bruce moved to intercept and shoved a child's car seat at him. "Make sure you install it correctly," he demanded.

"What?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cass kneeling on a blanket next to Helena. The tiny girl was happily lobbing beanbags into a nearby basket. Tim was seated before the security camera array, while Gordon occupied a swivel chair off to one side.

"If the police arrive, all of you get out. Seal the study access. And, Dick," he looked intently into the younger man's eyes, "I want you to take Helena with you in the car. I'm not going to have CPS involved in this. Barbara's looking into other arrangements until Selina comes back."

Dick accepted the seat, but made no move to put it in his car. "Police? CPS? Bruce... what's going on?"

For a moment, Bruce was silent. Then, "I want you to be clear on two things. First, you and I have both seen too many hostage situations that resulted in unnecessary casualties when SWAT team personnel turned trigger-happy. Second, SWAT wasn't on the scene last night. I was. I tailed Flass's people to their hideout, scoped out the grounds, took note of their defenses-all before I contacted Oracle for assistance." He closed his eyes. "In retrospect... my call should have been to 911."

Dick set the car seat down on the floor. "Oh... shi-but we don't... I mean, it's so not part of how we handle crises that-"

Bruce nodded. "The thought of calling didn't even occur to me until hours later." His lips twitched. "What did you think I was doing atop Gotham Tower, last night?" He asked. "Kicking myself because I let Flass get the drop on me?"

"Um..."

Bruce shook his head sadly. "I was trying to see if there was some angle I'd overlooked, some way in which my actions wouldn't be deemed a violation of the terms of my release."

"But the extenuating circumstances..."

"I thought about those. It's why I discussed this with Barbara before calling you all here. Perhaps if my case were less public," he sighed. "At best, I'm probably looking at thirty days in a private facility-if Rae can cut a deal. I'm fairly sure she can, though I wanted to get Barbara's thoughts before I brought her in. And... I thought you each deserved to know first."

"How about worst case?" Tim asked softly.

A shadow seemed to pass over Bruce's face. "Given that Arkham hasn't reopened yet," he said in a dull monotone, "Blackgate. Indefinitely."

"No." Dick's voice was barely louder than a whisper. "No," he continued, his voice gaining both volume and intensity. "We are not going through this again. You aren't doing this."

"If I don't, then Flass walks free."

"What?"

"You left him and his flunkies tied up for the police, but without someone coming forward to accuse him of a crime, they have to release him no more than forty-eight hours after taking him into custody. The only reason they haven't let him go yet, is because they know that you wouldn't have taken him out without a reason." Bruce clenched his fist. "Flass knew he had me last night. The terms of my probation are public knowledge. If Jim's the only one who comes forward, I'm almost positive that Flass will voluntarily confess to trying to kill me, if only to ensure that he takes me down with him."

"I know I don't say this often," Tim said, "but what if we just... let the clock run out on this one? Let Flass go, and 'encourage' him to hightail it out of Gotham?"

"Then he'll know that he has us running scared," Jim said. "Believe me, he'll use that. Look. A few years back, he tried to scare me off. I did what he least expected. I went public with the very information he was trying to blackmail me into hushing up—even though it nearly killed me. Flass is many things-a coward and a bully, sure. But he's also greedy and vindictive. And he covers himself. Back when Bruce and I first started cleaning up Gotham, Flass was one of the first cops we were able to convict. Less than three weeks later, he handed over the evidence the DA's office needed to end Loeb's tenure as commissioner. He didn't try to cut any deals—he just decided that if he was going down, he was going to take as many people as he could with him." He sighed. "I wouldn't put it past Flass to go public just to show us that we can't intimidate him."

"His... associates?" Cass ventured. "Maybe easier to scare them? Get them to say Flass only had," she nodded at Gordon, "you? Not Bruce?"

"Except that they did have me," Bruce pointed out. "It's one thing to browbeat a guilty party into admitting their guilt. But to get them to confess to something we know is false? I won't condone that."

"But he is guilty of everything," Cass protested. "Else," she amended. "Just... not kidnapping you."

"Forget it, Cass," Tim said with a sad smile. "You're talking to the guy who stopped Joker's execution because it turned out that the creep wasn't guilty of the one crime he was getting sentenced for."

Bruce nodded. "If I don't deal with this, then Flass will either attempt to blackmail me or report me. Neither option is acceptable. So, I have to pull his teeth. If Rae can get me the 30 days, it will be... uncomfortable, but I'll manage."

"No," Dick said. "There has to be some other way." He paused. "Give me a rundown of the sequence of events." He glanced from Bruce to Jim. "The two of you were at the store..."

Bruce frowned. Dick sounded exhausted. More than that-under the harsh overhead lighting, he looked haggard. How long had those dark circles been under his eyes? He winced. "I went to look for some assistance with my purchase," he began. "When I returned, it was to find Jim being escorted out of the store—at gunpoint. I followed the car, and broke into the building where Flass and his crew were holed up. They caught me, I broke free, got Jim out and then got recaptured. You know the rest."

Dick thought for a moment. "How did you get into the building?"

Bruce told him about the tree. "After you went to look for my shoes, I went back up and retrieved my grapnel. It came in handy for scaling Gotham Tower."

Dick nodded. "Were you wearing gloves?"

Bruce's forehead furrowed. He must have been—it was SOP. But he hadn't had them when he came home. So when had he lost them? "For the first part of the night," he said after a moment. "Flass must have removed them after I got Jim out."

Dick reached into his jacket pocket. "I guess these are the ones. They were lying next to your shoes. Not exactly one of your usual designer labels, so I wasn't positive, but I grabbed them to be on the safe side." He passed Bruce a familiar pair of worn, brown leather gloves. "In other words, you wouldn't have left any fingerprints in any of the rooms or corridors, other than where I found you, or along the route you took to leave."

"Correct."

"So," Dick continued, "to the best of your knowledge, if you were to claim that Flass had abducted you together with Gordon, would there one shred of evidence against that statement... or would it come down to your word against Flass's?"

Bruce's eyes opened wide. "The car they used only had room for three in the back seat," he said slowly.

"So they stuck you in the trunk."

"Possible witnesses in the parking lot or looking out the store windows. They might not have seen the gun—I would have missed it if I hadn't been looking at the right angle, but someone would have noticed a man being forced into the trunk."

"Maybe," Tim ventured, "but if the cops start looking for witnesses, how many people do you think they'd find who would admit to seeing anything? Most people don't want to get involved."

Dick nodded. "It was one of the more annoying parts of my work in Bludhaven," he said, remembering. "Just trying to get a witness to give over what they saw at the scene of a traffic accident was a major deal. I don't think anybody's going to come forward to say that they watched you get behind the wheel of a totally different car and drive off."

For the first time since he'd entered the cave, Dick saw Bruce relax. "The security cameras in the store," he said. But it didn't sound like he was protesting, so much as considering a factor. "They would have seen..."

"I can tell you right now," Jim broke in, "that if Flass hasn't been charged yet, nobody will have thought to go back to the store to look for evidence. One of you could go in tonight, after hours, and..."

"Okay," Dick said. "So now, we need to figure out why you've waited this long to make a statement. And why you didn't wait around last night for the cops."

Jim shrugged. "There's not much to tell. Bruce got me out. I was looking for a payphone—Flass had my cell. Next thing I knew, a carload of drunken frat boys were chucking bottles at me. You intervened. At that point, I just wanted to get home—especially when you said you'd handle things."

Bruce's smile grew slightly wider. "Flass was talking about how, even if I somehow managed to get away, he was going to accuse me of violating the terms of my release. I panicked." He made a face. "Once I calmed down, I spoke with my lawyer and decided to come forward, since I have nothing to hide, after all."

"You filling Rae in on the whole story?"

Bruce hesitated. "It's not something I'm looking forward to," he admitted, "but if what you're suggesting now doesn't work, for whatever reason, she's going to need the real facts in order to craft the best possible defense. Under the circumstances, anything less than full disclosure would be akin to shooting myself in the foot."

Dick nodded. "Okay. I think we have something we can all live with now. Tim, tonight you're going to get the footage from the store security tapes. Montoya's going to be expecting me to show, so that I can explain why they're holding onto Flass. After I fill her in, I'll head out to that construction site and take another look around. I'll ask Babs if she can find out what's already in Evidence, and where the DA is going to go with this. Questions or suggestions, anyone?"

There were none.

"Back to you, Bruce."

Bruce hesitated. Then he hit a switch on the main computer. "Oracle, report."

The screen came to life. "All's quiet on the GCPD front," Barbara said. "Waller's repeated her usual offer. I've given your usual answer. If this does come to trial, I think you can expect her to become a little more persuasive, though."

Bruce's eyes went flat. "I'll be ready for her." He took a deep breath. "Meeting adjourned. Dick, stay a moment?"

"I know an exit cue when I hear one," Jim rumbled. "Come upstairs, you two. Cass, bring Helena."

Bruce started to protest, but caught himself. "If the police arrive on the grounds," he ordered, "Bring her back downstairs before they reach the front door." He looked at Dick. "What I said before stands. Get the car seat installed."

Dick nodded, picked up the seat and went back to his car. It took him a few minutes to secure the safety straps. He returned to find that Bruce hadn't moved from the console chair.

"Okay," Dick said, after he'd waited a few moments for Bruce to speak. "It's done."

Bruce gave a slight nod. He started to say something, but seemed to think better of it. He turned to face the opposite wall. Dick waited.

After a few moments of silence, Dick cleared his throat. "Did you just want me to put the seat in, or was there something else?"

Silence.

"Bruce? Are you all right?" He was starting to feel like a broken record.

Bruce turned back to face him. "I'm doing a bit better than I was an hour ago," he said quietly. "Well enough to realize a few things I should have caught earlier."

Dick grinned. "Sometimes, two heads are just better than one. It probably would have hit you sooner or later."

Bruce shook his head. "After turning myself in, it would have been too late. But that's not what I meant." He took a deep breath. "Dick?" He asked hesitantly. "Are you all right?"

The younger man blinked. "Sure," he said, surprised. "I'm fine..."

Bruce placed his hands on Dick's shoulders and frowned. "How long have you been this tense?"

"I..." The truth was, he'd gotten so used to the pressure he could barely remember a time when he hadn't felt it.

"I realize I'm to blame for this morning, but how much sleep are you getting these days?"

"I'm dealing," Dick said, looking away.

"That wasn't what I asked," Bruce said sharply . "I never meant for you to take this much on," his voice softened. "But I should have realized that you would."

"I'm managing," Dick said, wondering why he suddenly felt like he was waist-deep in Jell-O.

"Dick." Bruce shook his head again. "You aren't a sixteen-year-old with something to prove anymore. I know what you can do. I'm just... honestly not sure how you've been doing it. And... I wish that I could tell you that you didn't have to keep doing it anymore."

"Yeah," Dick gave him a watery smile. "I know. But right now? You need me. Gotham needs me. Lucius is trying to convince me that the Wayne Foundation needs me—Boswell retired in August, and Lucius has been pushing me to sit in on the meetings ever since. It's actually pretty interesting stuff."

Bruce nodded. "You'll do well... if that's what you want. If it isn't, that's also fine." He placed his hands once more on Dick's shoulders and took a step back. "Look at me."

Dick hesitated for a moment, before he reluctantly complied.

Bruce's grip tightened. "I do need you. Especially now. But I also need you to tell me when I'm taking you for granted." As Dick started to shake his head, Bruce continued forcefully, "And we both know that I have been." His eyes seemed to bore into Dick's. "I realize that I've... written the book on how to spread yourself too thin and run yourself into the ground. I don't want you adding your own chapter." It was a softer version of the Bat-Glare, but it was still, unmistakably, the Glare. "Clear?"

"Clear," Dick nodded. He brought his own hands up to Bruce's shoulders. For a moment, the two stood silently, locked together in mutual support. Then Dick looked up, took a deep breath, and asked, "Now what does Amanda Waller want with you?"

Bruce sighed. "She knows better than to approach me directly, at least at this juncture. She's been advising Barbara that, in the event that I should wish to shorten my... probation, she's prepared to offer me the opportunity."

Dick tilted his head to one side. "You mean on the Squad."

"As field leader, yes." He grimaced. "She's tenacious. But I'm not that desperate."

"Glad to hear it." He took a deep breath. "So, what's next on the agenda?"

Bruce winced. "I'd better call Rae."

"Good luck."

"I probably need it."

--

Now

Cassandra's verbal skills picked that moment to desert her. What would Dick or Tim do in this situation? Deflect suspicion. Create a plausible explanation. Easier said than done. She didn't think, 'I have an identical twin sister' would be enough. She should have listened to Barbara and watched more crime dramas and fewer sitcoms. "Do... do we... know each other?" She stalled.

Arkham fixed her with a penetrating stare. "As I recall, young woman, you identified me at..." Another paroxysm of coughing seized him. "...at our first meeting." He coughed again.

"Don't," Cass started forward. "Don't fight so hard. Let coughs... pass." She hesitated. "I recognized your face from newspapers. After fire. Your picture on first page."

Arkham considered her words for a moment. Then he squared himself more solidly in the wheelchair. "Perhaps," he said grudgingly, "I was mistaken. Although I," he coughed again, "must congratulate you on your powers of perception."

She blinked. "Why?"

He smiled ironically. "I've seen my reflection. There's scant resemblance between any photograph you could have seen, and the way I look today."

Cass smiled. "Not... that bad," she fibbed. Actually, it was. She'd recognized him from the way his steely grey eyes looked when they peered over wire-rimmed spectacles, and from the way he'd held himself in the chair—identical to the way he'd looked on the asylum footage she'd watched with Barbara when Bruce had been incarcerated. She started to relax, then thought better of it. Arkham had to be hoping to catch her off-guard, waiting for her to make another slip. It occurred to her that if she quit the hospital now, he would continue to suspect her. And, she realized, she actually enjoyed coming to work here. She didn't want to stop.

"RT now?"

Arkham nodded.

Better, Cass decided, to talk to Barbara about this tonight. Barbara would probably be able to tell if the situation could be salvaged. She hoped.

--

Rae Green listened to Bruce's story without comment. From time to time she frowned and jotted something down on a large notepad. Finally, she set the pen down. "Is that everything?" she asked calmly.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it sufficient?"

"I told you," Rae snapped. "If you want my help, I need full disclosure. Now is that everything, or are you keeping anything else back?"

Bruce shook his head. "That's all."

Rae nodded once. As her head came back up, Bruce could see a small vein pulse pink at her temple. "I just don't understand how someone so intelligent can do something so stupid!" she lashed out. "Do you have any idea what you're looking at if the whole story comes out?"

Bruce nodded back. "Jim was in trouble," he repeated stubbornly.

"That's what the police are there for," she shot back. "You can always dial 911, even if your phone service has been cut off—did you know that?"

"I told you. In a hostage situation, the police can be—"

"Damn it, Bruce! Do you have NO friends left in the JLA? The Titans aren't currently based in Gotham? Captain Comet can't teleport?"

Bruce took a deep breath. "Are you able to help me?"

"Are you planning to pull any more crap like this?"

He hadn't planned his activities last night, not that Rae appeared to be in any mood to split semantic hairs with him. "Absolutely not."

"Damned right. Because if I even suspect that you have—"

"I know. I'll need to find a new lawyer."

"That too," Rae said evenly.

Bruce blinked.

"Cross me again, and I'm going to find out if Two-Face needs a partner. Believe me, if you think I can make trouble for you now..."

Bruce started to laugh. Then he took another look at her expression and the smile died on his lips. He'd observed Rae in action before. If she used her considerable talents to assist his enemies... "You have my word."

"Excellent." She smiled. "You realize that since I can't have you perjure yourself, there's no way that we can get you on the witness stand claiming that Flass kidnapped you."

Bruce nodded. "I thought, perhaps, the fact that he recaptured me after I got Jim out—"

"If you'd got clear off the property, maybe, but you were still on the grounds at the time. Gordon's testimony should be enough to get Flass convicted, but we need a plausible explanation—beyond the real one—for your not testifying."

Bruce thought for a moment. "I could prevail upon Alex to say that getting me up on the stand could be detrimental to my condition."

"If you tell him everything that you just told me," Rae frowned, "he's going to have to report it. Doctor-patient privilege only goes so far." She sighed. "I'm not saying involving him is a bad idea, but I'd recommend that you think of him as you would a probation officer when you're deciding what to disclose to him." She looked at her watch. "Where's Gordon now?"

"In the waiting room—unless he went to get a coffee."

She lifted her telephone receiver and hit two buttons. "Kelly, cancel my three o'clock and ask Mr. Gordon to step inside, will you?" She hung up. A moment later, Jim walked in.

Rae smiled. "Grab your coats, gentlemen. We're heading downtown now and you're both going to give your statements to the police. We'll take my car; I'll brief you on the way."

She turned to Jim. "Call my office tomorrow for an appointment. As I was telling Bruce, Flass's conviction is going to hang mainly on your testimony, so we're going to need to work this out carefully." She got up and began to herd the two men out of her office. "If either of you have any other surprises for me, I would suggest you start springing them now..."

--

"So, that's the story," Lonerghan said quietly. He passed the plate of sandwiches across the table to Eddie and M'Gann. The three of them were sitting in the front room of Lonerghan's small apartment.

Getting away from the Iceberg hadn't been too difficult. M'Gann had used her abilities to disguise herself as an attractive young woman and professed herself to be quite taken with Lonerghan.

When Lonerghan had suggested to her that they go back to his place, Penguin had been more than willing to allow Eddie to escort them. "After all, if Batman is singling you out for special attention, you probably do need a bodyguard," he'd remarked jovially. It had been a profitable night and he was in a good mood. It seemed that many of the Iceberg's bouncers and security personnel supplemented their income by accompanying nervous patrons home—although Eddie couldn't really see the point of it. It wasn't like Batman was going to be intimidated by an escort. Nor most of the crime syndicates, for that matter. Still, Eddie wasn't about to complain about a means that allowed him to get away from the Iceberg to talk to Lonerghan without arousing suspicion.

"We can't get Penguin on extortion or racketeering. And the interest he charges on his loans is just barely legal under the usury laws. But if I can find proof that the enforcers on his payroll are in the US illegally..."

The two Titans nodded. "I thought," Eddie said hesitantly, "that you figured it was better to let Penguin stay in business and use him to catch other crooks."

"We did," Lonerghan said, with a wry smile. "Then our new mayor decided that he was going to do something to show that he isn't soft on crime. He's not suicidal enough to take on Cosa Nostra," he glanced at M'Gann, "sorry. The mob—"

"It's okay. You don't have to translate," M'Gann smiled back.

"Oh good. Anyway, it comes down to politics. GCPD needs to make a major collar in order to help the mayor's image. The mob is too strong at the present time—although, if you capes keep putting dents in their operations, that can change. Cracking down on the small fry might help morale, but it doesn't help Mayor Houghton's re-election campaign." He shrugged. "Bringing in Penguin is just going to push the criminal elements further underground and hurt us in the long run. Right now? If they go underground, it means they won't be as visible."

"It sounds short-sighted," Eddie remarked dubiously.

Lonerghan's lips twitched. "Yeah, that's because it is. But Houghton's fixated on the idea of bringing Penguin down. Suggest anything else and run the risk of tomorrow's headlines screaming about how the police endorse letting criminals run free."

Eddie and M'Gann exchanged a glance. "Then," Eddie said, "we'll help you. Or at least, Ms. Martian will. If Penguin does have illegal workers, he's going to have another set of payroll files somewhere." He turned to M'Gann. "If you manage to hang around inconspicuously, you'll find it."

You have another idea about this situation, don't you? The Martian girl projected.

I don't know, Eddie thought back. But what if the mayor isn't after Penguin because he's cracking down on crime?

What other reason do you think there might be?

I don't know, Eddie admitted. But I know who I can ask about it...

--

Cass finished speaking and waited. Barbara sighed. "It could be trouble," she admitted. "Jeremiah's met Batgirl. He might recognize the way you speak."

Cass nodded. She'd suspected as much. "So... so I should leave."

"That's one possibility," Barbara agreed. "Of course, if you disappear, it might just make Jeremiah positive that he was onto something. People in rehab usually have a lot of time to think," she added. "Believe me, I know."

"So... what do I do?"

Barbara considered. "For now? Nothing. Give it a month. Then ask if they can move you to another area. Tell them... tell them you'd like a chance to pick up a few new skills. Don't be too insistent; you don't want to make it look like you're bored or you have an attitude problem, or anything. Just mention that you'd like a change. If worse comes to worse, I might be able to pull a few computer strings to get you reassigned, but I think you can probably handle this on your—"

A burst of static suddenly blared over the speakers and a woman's voice with a southern accent said "Skipper... you copy?"

Barbara snapped back to her consoles. "Sorry, Cass." Then, in a businesslike tone, "I copy, Zinda. Go ahead."

More static. Then, "...Turbulence. Can't get... bearings... South Pacific... fuel low. ...'ricane on the way. We've lost... engines."

"Damn!" Barbara's fingers danced over her consoles as she tried to boost the signal. "Zinda! I missed that! How many of your engines are working?"

More static was the only response.

"Zinda!" She hit another button. "Dinah, can you read me? Catwoman? Huntress?" She looked at Cass, her green eyes wide. "I'm not reading any of them."

Continued!

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