The Way Back #32

5:48 PM

Bruce had driven the Kents to the airport earlier that morning. He stopped at Barbara's on his way home to drop Helena off for a few hours. As much as he loved his daughter, he was looking forward to having an afternoon to himself for the first time in far too long.

When he returned to pick her up, slightly before six, he knew instantly that something was wrong. First, Barbara buzzed him up without a greeting. Then when he got upstairs, he found her hunched over a small console, her fingers clenched around the edge of her desk, oblivious to anything but the data scrolling past her eyes. Helena was lying on the floor, watching something on the preschool channel. When she saw Bruce, she beamed and held out her arms.

Bruce scooped her up with a smile, which vanished almost immediately. "Barbara?"

She looked up then, and something about her expression made his blood run cold. Dick. Or Jim. Part of him wanted to run out of the room before she could tell him what was going on, but even as he considered it, he heard his own voice asking what had happened.

She told him.

He was back on the Watchtower—on monitor duty—on the day Superman burst through the lift doors and nearly beat him to death. Again, he felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as his friend's first blow caught him in the chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but it felt as though the words were strangling him. Still holding Helena, he dropped heavily into a nearby chair. "One of the ears on the helmet," he repeated dully.

Barbara closed her eyes. "According to Dodge. I... I have to call him. Dick. He's been waiting almost two hours."

Bruce didn't answer. Even though he knew that it was foolish, for a brief instant, he thought that Dick might have somehow kept up with the booster regimen. It was ridiculous. Even he hadn't bothered after a while. He still clung to that hope—until Dick confirmed what he'd expected. Bruce slumped in his chair. And then he sat up straighter as he remembered something.

"No," he broke in when Dick declared that he was driving to the hospital. "Dick, come home."

"Bruce?" Dick sounded startled. "What are you doing...? Never mind," he said tersely. "I can't come back to the manor. If I've been infected, then I need a doctor. A real one."

"Dick," Bruce said urgently, "Listen to me. At this precise moment, you are not contagious. You won't be until—unless—you start to show symptoms, which won't happen for seven to seventeen days. If you receive the vaccine within four days of infection, there's still a good chance that you'll only have a mild case of the disease, if you get it at all."

"Optimism?" Dick was incredulous. "From you? Bruce, when I get to the hospital, they'll—"

"—have to contact the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta to obtain a dose of the vaccine. And you're presuming that they'll believe you, when you walk up to the front desk and tell them that you've possibly contracted a disease which hasn't existed in nature since 1977."

"Blood work would—"

"The last case on US soil was in 1949. How many doctors still practicing today would even know what they were looking at? Listen to me, Dick, I still have the vaccine." He took another breath. "I will inoculate myself and the others as soon as this call ends. Smallpox is airborne. If the doctors don't accept what you tell them—if they do, but their requisition to the CDC gets caught up in bureaucracy—if the people who can release the vaccine don't credit what you tell them, you could end up infecting everyone in the hospital. Standard operating procedure before smallpox was eradicated was to send the patient home, to be looked after by family members who had already been vaccinated. Believe me, Dick, this is the best course of action. Come home."

Dick was silent for a moment. Then, "If it's airborne, we need to make sure it can't travel out of the manor—or the cave. There are cracks and fissures that lead to the surface."

"I'll situate a quarantine area accordingly."

"Do you know how to calculate the right dosage of vaccine for Helena?"

Bruce looked down at the little girl in his arms and squeezed her tighter for a moment. "No. I'll make sure she's gone by the time you come home."

There was another pause. "Okay," Dick sounded almost relieved. "I'm still in upstate New York, so figure I'll be at the manor in about six to eight hours, depending on traffic."

Bruce exhaled. "Use the cave entrance. "I'll be ready."

The instant the connection terminated, Barbara wheeled over to him and clasped his hand in hers. He squeezed it. Then he took a deep breath. "I'm going back now," he said. "I have work to do."

--

6:30 PM

He made one stop on his way home—to Jim's old house. Bruce had bought the place nearly four years ago, after Jim had followed Barbara to Metropolis. He'd wasted little time in converting the basement into a full-fledged crime lab. He had also installed several industrial freezers.

As Bruce started down the stairs, it occurred to him that someone might have rearranged, or worse, cleaned out the freezers in his absence. If that were the case... Bruce's jaw set. If that were the case, he would be on the next flight to Atlanta, with a set of burglar's tools shielded in his hand luggage and the CDC building schematics in his front pocket. He unlocked the middle freezer and relaxed. The cardboard box was still filled with vaccine ampoules, each safely cushioned in Styrofoam. A second, smaller box, kept next to it for convenience, held his supply of bifurcated needles.

On his way back to the manor, he drove with both boxes beside him in the front passenger seat.

--

9:15 PM

Over the next two hours, Bruce set to work expanding the quarantine area in the Cave's sickbay. By the time that he was done, it included a fair-sized exercise area, complete with fitness machines, weights, and a trapeze, as well as an entertainment center, a computer with internet hook-up, and a large assortment of books.

"What in...?"

Bruce jumped. He'd been so intent on his work that he hadn't noticed Jim coming up behind him.

"Bruce? What the hell are you doing?"

Bruce set down the box and began unloading another shelf of books. "Smallpox has an incubation period of up to two and a half weeks before the first symptoms hit," he said tersely. "Do you have any idea how... tedious... he's going to find that?" He paused. "Did you just come down here to check on me, or was there something else?"

"Selina's here," Jim replied. "I thought you might want to come upstairs for a minute."

Bruce nodded. Then with a sigh, he slid the last book onto the shelf, and walked out of the quarantine unit. Before he went upstairs, he turned to give his handiwork a last look. He smiled. Apart from the clear Plexiglas walls and ceiling, and the medical machinery off in one corner, the area now looked like a well-stocked bachelor pad...

...Instead of what it really was.

The smile died.

--

9:20 PM

"There's no preset limit," Bruce said, as he passed her a credit card. "Charge too much too fast, and it's possible the bank will block the card until they confirm the transactions with me. I don't anticipate rejecting them."

Selina's eyes widened as she accepted the plastic. "It's in my name," she said, as she slipped it into the pocket of her pantsuit and buttoned her winter coat over it hurriedly. "Did you only just add...?"

"No, I requested it a number of years ago." Bruce admitted, "There was a time when I thought things might be..." He checked himself. "The timing wasn't right. Now it is." Bruce looked down. "Go somewhere safe. I..." He handed her a folded sheet of paper. "I own an island in the Caymans. There's a cabin, fully-equipped, with enough non-perishable food to last six weeks. I'm not telling you to go there, but it's an option. Co-ordinates are on that sheet, and if you call the number at the top with about 45 minutes advance notice, they'll have my jet fuelled and waiting for you at Goodwin. You'll need to hire a pilot, unless you can fly it, though I shouldn't think that would be a problem."

"No," Selina agreed. The paper went into her purse. "Bruce, I..." She touched his cheek. "I'll call you later."

Bruce nodded. Then he pulled her tightly toward him. "If for some reason, the vaccine doesn't work, if I..."

Selina shook her head. "Bruce, don't. We'll see each other again. All of us. Dick included. Trust me."

Bruce closed his eyes. "If the vaccine doesn't work, the Caymans won't be far enough away from the spread of the disease. Find someplace remote that doesn't have a lot of tourism right now—Micronesia, maybe—and go there. Don't wait too long; if full-blown panic ensues, countries like that will probably start closing their borders. You need to be inside long before that happens." As Selina opened her mouth again to protest, Bruce barrelled on. "Please, don't argue with me. Just go."

"Okay." She kissed him lightly on the lips. Then she smiled. "Hang on," she said shakily. "If this is the last time we ever see each other, we have to do better than that."

This time, the kiss lasted a great deal longer. When they pulled apart, Bruce stooped down to his daughter's eye level.

"Bye, Helena," he said, forcing himself to sound cheerful. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

Helena wasn't sure she was buying it. "Bye bye?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes, Helena," Bruce nodded, still smiling. "Bye bye. For now."

His daughter still looked dubious, but when Bruce hugged her, she hugged him back. Then Selina took her by the hand and led her to the car.

Bruce watched as Selina settled her into the safety seat, then got behind the wheel and started the car. He waited until they rounded the bend and drove out of sight before he went back inside. As he closed the door behind him, he sighed. There was still more work to do.

--

9:35 PM

There had been many times over the years when Bruce had wanted to confide in Lucius Fox about his night activities. As much as he'd tried to play the fool when it came to the day-to-day running of Wayne Enterprises, he'd been forced to demonstrate a certain amount of business savvy in order to make sure that Lucius was handling things the way he wanted them handled. Lucius had figured that much out long ago. He'd just never been able to fathom why.

Unconsciously, Bruce straightened his shoulders as he picked up the phone and punched in Lucius' private cell number from memory. For once, he honestly had no idea what reception he was about to get.

He picked up on the third ring. "Lucius Fox."

"Lucius. It's Bruce."

There was an awkward silence. Then, "How are you?"

He'd been prepared for the silence. It was the unexpected warmth that nearly undid him. "I... Lucius, I need a favor."

This time, the pause was shorter. "I'm listening."

Bruce told him what he was looking for. Lucius heard him out without interruption. "You realize, Bruce, that some of the material you're requesting predates both of us, right?"

"I've kept myself aware of what we had in storage and what we dumped. Unless HamTech did a major housecleaning in the last three years, it should still be there."

"Bruce? Um... on the one hand, I know it's not any of my business, but, is there... something you can tell me about why you need this stuff?"

Bruce hesitated. "In case Dick doesn't call, he... he needs to use some of his sick time. At least seven to seventeen days." He closed his eyes. "Hopefully, not longer than that, but the... the possibility..."

"My... G-d," Lucius breathed. "You think he's been... all right. It's nearly ten now. I'm not sure if I can get hold of Susan tonight, but I'll try. Whether I do or don't, I'll drive over to HamTech first thing in the morning. If the material is there, I'll bring it myself. And if there's anything else I can do..."

"You're doing it," Bruce said. "Thanks."

"I'd say 'anytime', but the truth is, I don't want to be asked about this again. I'll call you as soon as I know something. And Bruce? Don't be a stranger."

The connection ended.

Bruce replaced the receiver in its cradle. That was it. He'd done almost everything he could. There was only one thing left now.

--

10:05 PM

"Excuse me?" Jim asked softly.

Bruce winced, but stood firm. "I can't give you the vaccine, Jim. It's contraindicated for anyone with a heart condition."

"So... what? I have to stay out of the cave while," he gestured toward the pillow and blanket Bruce had tossed haphazardly on a cot in a corner of the medical lab, "you practically move down here?"

Bruce shook his head. "The quarantine area is secure. As long as you don't go inside, you should be fine. I'd still recommend, though, that you check up on me remotely—or that you wear a hazmat suit in the cave as a precaution."

Jim sighed. "You do have a couple without those danged Spock ears on top, right?"

A shadow passed over Bruce's face as he nodded. "Going forward," he said heavily, "None of the helmets will be carrying that... embellishment."

--

11:15 PM

"You called." Cass stepped into Barbara's office via the open window.

"Thanks for coming, Cass. Yeah. I need you to do something." She grimaced. "Bruce gave you the vaccine already, right?"

Cass nodded. "Hurt."

Barbara clucked sympathetically. "I'm not surprised. I've heard it leaves an interesting scar, too. I asked you to come by because I need you to check something for me. Not everyone can have the vaccine, you know."

Cass nodded. "Your father angry. Still."

Barbara sighed. "He'll get over it. Anyway, I've been able to rule out a lot of the factors that could stop me from getting the shot, but there's one I can't tell on my own." She grimaced. "I can't get it if I have eczema. There are a few other skin conditions on the problem list, but that's the major one. The trouble is," she sighed, "I don't know if I do."

"You can't tell?"

"Well, not if it's on the back of my legs. That's what I need you to check. If you see anything there like a rash, or a sore, I need to know."

"Oh. Okay." She considered. "If I see something," she hesitated, "if... if I don't know the right words... should I take picture?"

"No!" she snapped, more forcefully than she should have. "Sorry, Cass," she apologized more calmly. "No. No photos. If there's anything, I'll get it looked into at the clinic first."

"Fine."

Barbara smiled wanly. "I'll just go into the other room and lie down, so you can have a look. Give me a few minutes to get out of this skirt. I really didn't mean to snap," she apologized again. "I just... don't like cameras."

"Okay," Cass said, not really understanding.

Fifteen minutes later, Cass smiled. "You're fine," she said confidently. Then, hesitantly, "Dick will be too."

Barbara let out a long breath. "I really hope you're right. Thanks, Cass."

--

5:05 AM

It was after five when Dick pulled into the cave. "Sorry I'm late," he said, with a shadow of his customary smile. "I had to see Babs first. And I wanted to take a drive around the city."

"I know. She called a little while ago," Bruce had to struggle to keep his voice steady. "I've expanded the quarantine area," he said, leading Dick toward the Plexiglas enclosure."

"Hey!" Dick brightened. "It's like a studio apartment."

Bruce nodded. "Given that you might not experience any ill effects for days..."

"If I do at all," Dick interjected.

"Exactly. At this stage, quarantine is just a precaution. Again, if you've been exposed to classic smallpox—and from the information you retrieved from Devereux's lab, that strain—variola major—was the only strain she was working with—you aren't contagious until symptoms manifest. We just need to keep you isolated until the maximum incubation timeframe has passed. Here." He gestured Dick toward an examination table, which was covered by a long piece of thin white paper, and motioned for him to sit down. "You'll need to either take off your shirt or roll up your sleeve."

Dick pulled off his jacket. He was wearing a short-sleeve cotton t-shirt underneath.

"Okay," Bruce said. "The first thing I'm going to do is draw a blood sample from you for baseline comparison. At this point, there shouldn't be enough virus cells in your system to show, or I'd have a better idea of how serious things are."

Dick nodded and braced as Bruce located a vein in his arm and inserted the needle. He noticed that, compared with earlier blood tests, Bruce seemed to take more care than usual with the procedure.

Once Bruce had finished, he approached again, this time with one of the bifurcated needles and a glass vaccine ampule, which had already been broken open.

"I think you remember this," he said dryly, as Dick's hand unconsciously flew to his arm.

"I think I had it blanked out until now," Dick shot back. "You're going to poke that into me about fifty times, aren't you?"

"Fifteen would be more accurate," Bruce corrected. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I had to give myself the injections earlier. This is probably one of the few downsides to the eradication of smallpox: there's been no need to upgrade the vaccination process in well over thirty years." He dipped the needle into the vaccine and made the first jab. "It may be crude by today's standards," he added as he continued to administer the injections, "but it should have the desired effect." He hoped.

Dick nodded. "Okay," he said, when Bruce finally moved the needle away. "Is that it?" He ignored the small trail of blood oozing slowly down his arm. "There seems to be a lot left in that thing."

Bruce nodded and began to unroll a length of gauze bandage. "Each ampule contains enough vaccine for twenty people. I've already used it to inoculate myself and the others. That reminds me," he added, "I haven't called Tim yet. As for the needles," he dropped the one he was holding into the nearby sterilizer, "I can't order more like this. Fortunately, what I have is reusable."

"Got it. Bruce?" He frowned. "We're sure that I'm not contagious right at this moment?"

"Are you feeling at all ill? Achy? Tired? Feverish?"

Dick shook his head.

"Then you aren't contagious."

Dick took a deep breath. "In that case... before I go into quarantine, would you mind if I just took a walk outside for an hour or so? It might be my last chance to get some fresh air."

Bruce flinched.

"I meant, for the next three weeks!" Dick amended hastily.

Bruce turned around and braced one hand on the cave wall. "Of course you can," he said in a voice scarcely louder than a whisper. "Come back when you're ready."

--

6:42 AM

"I guess I was hoping you'd come out here if I waited long enough," Dick said. He was leaning against a tree, looking out past the cliffs to the harbor. He shook his head. "It really is a gorgeous sunrise," he said. The sky was a glowing lake of pink and lavender. "And on any other day, I'd just walk right past it..."

"I know what you mean," Bruce said quietly. "In Arkham, I had numerous opportunities to realize how much I had... walked past. When I was able to. If I could have somehow known what was coming..." He shook his head. "If it were me standing where you are now, I'd like to believe that I'd be reacting much as you are—except I think I'd probably have put on a body suit and gone back to work until I collapsed." He placed a hand on Dick's shoulder. "To clarify, that's a criticism of me, not you."

"Considering I got into this bind because of a suit breach," Dick covered Bruce's hand with his own, "I don't think I'd really want to consider that option."

"Point." Bruce took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "This is what we have to work with. In the 60s and 70s, Hamilton Technologies was one of the leaders in smallpox research. When the disease was eradicated, the research stopped. Lucius is coming by later today with all the data we retained from that project." His grip tightened on Dick's shoulder. "I gave you the vaccine. There's a very good chance that's all you need—but if it's not, I'm not going to rest until every avenue has been exhausted."

Dick frowned. "You'd better not mean that literally," he said. "Seriously, you start going without sleep and after a day or two, you could be staring a cure in the face and you'll be too zoned out to recognize it." He grinned. "Look. I get it. You're not giving up yet, and that's great. But at the end of the day, you aren't a doctor, much less a virologist. If you can't come up with a cure in two weeks for a disease that was decimating humanity for millennia, that's not you being lazy; that's life pitching you a spit ball when the umpire isn't watching." He turned around to face him. "If I don't beat this, it won't be because you didn't do enough, okay?"

Bruce managed to nod.

"Okay. Let's just wait for the sun to get a little higher, and then we can head back."

--

7:10 AM

Dick paused on the threshold of the Plexiglas corridor that led into quarantine unit proper. "I...I guess this is it," he said. There was a small catch in his voice.

"Almost," Bruce nodded. "There's just one more thing..."

"Vaccine, blood work, rundown of symptoms to watch out for..." Dick frowned. "What did I miss?"

It was now or... now. Bruce wasn't going to finish that statement any other way tonight. "This." And with that, he wrapped one arm around Dick's upper back, placed the other on Dick's shoulder, and drew him close.

After one disbelieving instant, Dick hugged back, just as fiercely.

"You're going to beat this," Bruce whispered.

"From your mouth, in..."

"If you need anything..."

"I know. Just call." They moved apart. Dick tried to smile. "Okay. I'm ready."

Bruce nodded. When he hit the button, the panel fell into place almost soundlessly. Dick turned, walked down the corridor, past the decon shower and stepped into the main area. "Close 'er up."

The second panel slid down.

Dick let out a long breath. "Bruce?" He called without turning. "I haven't slept in over a day. I think I'm going to try. Could you maybe send out for pizza around lunchtime?" He yawned. "Luigi's will probably sound great about then."

There was no answer. Funny. Bruce hadn't mentioned the unit being soundproof. He turned around. Bruce was gone.

--

7:12 AM

The realization didn't hit Bruce until the panels came down, but when it did, it hit with a vengeance. He had spent most of last night building a prison cell. It didn't matter how large it was, or what amenities he'd put in, it didn't matter what the reasons were. He had just spent hours building a cage where Dick might well have to spend the rest of his life. And as the second panel slid shut, he ran. It felt like he was choking. He couldn't breathe, he could barely think.

But he ran as fast and as far from the quarantine unit as his legs could take him.

Bruce knew that he was being ridiculous—that everything he'd done had been necessary under the circumstances. At most, he could have delayed the inevitable for a few days. He would have, if Dick had asked. From a safety standpoint, from a medical standpoint, from a logical standpoint, he'd done nothing wrong.

He'd just shut his son in a cage.

Bruce reared back and punched the metal shielding on the cave wall. His fist came down hard on the rivets that connected the metal panels, breaking the skin on his knuckles. It didn't matter. It didn't equal one iota of the pain that he was feeling inside. He drew back his fist again. Then he caught himself. If he injured his hands, it might slow him down when he was working in the lab. He had to concentrate on the big picture. Dick was counting on him to... to...

His eyes blurred and he groped his way to the nearest console, slumped into the chair, and buried his face in his hands. Jim found him there a few minutes later.

"Lucius called," he said quietly as he walked up behind the chair. "He's just heading over to HamTech now and should be at the gate with your package before noon."

"Fine," Bruce said dully.

Jim regarded him for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he laid a hand on Bruce's shoulder.

Bruce inhaled noisily.

"It's been... one hell of a day," Jim said softly.

There was a sharp explosion of breath. "That is an understatement."

"I know."

"This is the point where you tell me that you know he's going to beat it, right?"

Jim sighed. "No. Maybe you've met a few clairvoyants in the circles you've moved in. I'm not pretending to be one of them. This is the point where I tell you that if the vaccine did its work, there might not be anything there for him to beat. Don't go looking for trouble unless you have to."

"And if I examine him later and I do see the virus in his bloodstream?"

Jim sighed. "All right. We'll go there if you insist. If that's what you see, then you tell yourself two things: one, thanks to the vaccine, you're probably going to be looking at a mild case." His eyebrows drew together. "Come to think of it, the vaccine is also a pox virus, right? Are you sure you can tell them apart?"

Bruce frowned. "And the second thing?"

Jim walked to the front of the chair and placed both of his hands on Bruce's shoulders. When Bruce looked up, he smiled. "That a forty per cent mortality rate is still a sixty per cent survival rate. Are you going to sit there and tell me that both of you haven't faced worse odds on more than one occasion?"

Bruce shook his head, but there was the barest hint of a smile on his lips. "Lucius is on his way, you said?"

"That's right."

Bruce sighed. "I guess I should go upstairs to wait for him, then. After I check up on Dick."

Jim caught him as he struggled to rise. Bruce shook his head. "No, I can manage." Then, more softly, "Thanks."

"Anytime."

--

7:45 AM

Dick hung suspended, his hands in the gymnastic rings, arms wide, figure stretched parallel to the ground, when Bruce approached the quarantine unit. As he watched, the younger man pulled out of the Maltese cross position by raising his legs and dropping his upper body so that he was hanging upside down. From there, he swung into a half-dozen Jonassons—bringing his legs up and over his head, and then continuing to rotate in a circle while still holding onto the rings.

Bruce watched him move through the routine, performing more and more difficult swings and flips, and allowed himself to smile. Dick was a picture of perfect health. Any idiot could tell that much. Then his eye fell on the gauze bandage covering the injection site, and the smile faded.

Dick spotted Bruce, pulled into a double flyaway and dismounted with a triple salto.

"Hey," he said, coming over.

"You," Bruce forced himself to smile again, "you looked pretty good up there."

"Thanks. I thought I was going to sleep, but I guess I'm still too keyed up. Figured working out might help." He pressed one hand lightly against the shielding. "It feels like a decade since I got up yesterday."

"I'm not surprised. Are... do you need anything?"

"Well," Dick said, "I was going to ask if we could get a pizza, but that's okay."

"No, I'll order it." He pressed his hand to the other side of the shielding, directly opposite Dick's. "I didn't mean to leave that abruptly. I..."

"Don't worry," Dick grinned. "I'm sort of used to it."

Bruce winced.

"Oh, jeez..." Dick said. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Bruce said heavily. "I need to go upstairs. Lucius should be here soon, with the supplies I asked for. I'll be back when the pizza comes. Four-cheese, sausage and pepperoni?"

"How about we split a four-pounder?"

Bruce considered.

"I bet you haven't eaten since Babs gave me the bad news. Which means, you're probably starving too."

Bruce nodded slowly. The door chime sounded upstairs, echoing over the cave speakers. "That would be Lucius," he said. "I'll place the order when he leaves."

"Sounds good."

After Bruce went upstairs, Dick walked over to the computer center and opened a Giggle session. With some trepidation, he typed in a keyword search on smallpox. The results made him wish he hadn't.

--

7:51 A.M.

It wasn't Lucius. "Mind telling me why I had to find out from Oracle half an hour ago?" Tim demanded.

Bruce moved aside to let him enter. "I..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. You're right."

Tim blinked. "How is he?" he asked in a more subdued tone.

"When I came upstairs, he was fine. I'm waiting on Lucius, but since you haven't been vaccinated yet, we'll take care of that now."

"Lucius?"

He explained quickly about HamTech's earlier research. Tim frowned.

"So... what? You think you can just whip up a cure overnight?"

Bruce fought down an angry retort. He knew the odds. He didn't need to be reminded of them. "I have to try. I can't just sit there and watch-"

Tim nodded. "Okay. How can I help?"

Bruce hadn't expected that response. "Excuse me?"

Tim took a deep breath. "I guess by now you heard about Conner dying a couple of years ago."

Bruce frowned. "Yes."

"I spent months trying to reclone him. Or clone another him. Whatever."

"I never knew..."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't something I went around telling people. I mean, a seventeen-year-old kid trying to make a Kryptonian-Human hybrid clone in the basement? Cripes, just saying it out loud sounds dumb."

Bruce sighed. "If you're implying that this cause is... is..."

Tim shook his head. "No, I don't think it's hopeless; if I did, I wouldn't be volunteering to help. But I think I can actually bring something else to the table. See, since I was dealing with cloning, I had to do a lot of DNA work. Which means, I built up a decent supply of PCR primers. Now, I was mostly using them to check for genetic anomalies, and I'm not sure if the ones I have will be any use trying to map out the smallpox DNA, but if you need them, they're yours."

Bruce's eyes widened. "PCR primers," he repeated. "With those, we just might... Where...?"

"In San Francisco, under Titans Tower. I think for something like this, Roy would let me use the JLA teleporter to get there and back in a hurry."

Bruce started to smile. At the very least, those primers should be able to tell him whether Dick actually had the disease in his bloodstream. If he didn't, the quarantine was unnecessary. If he did... Bruce took a deep breath. "I may have another job for you. If the PCR results aren't ideal," he fought to keep his voice even, "I'll need you to go to the CDC in Atlanta. I know that they were conducting experiments with the stored virus a decade ago. Perhaps they learned something that we can use."

"No offense, Bruce," Tim said, frowning, "but I'm not exactly recognizable away from my usual stomping grounds. Wouldn't Superman be a better choice?"

Bruce didn't answer.

"You aren't going to tell him," Tim said slowly. "Or anyone."

"I have work to do," Bruce replied. "I don't have time to waste making phone calls." He looked down. "Tim... Come downstairs now. I'll give you the vaccine and you can see Dick. After that... do what you want to. I'll be starting to work as soon as Lucius drops off the material."

"Okay," Tim said dubiously. "But I really think that..."

"As I said," Bruce repeated deliberately, "once you've been vaccinated, you can do what you want." Without another word, he strode off in the direction of the cave.

Tim's jaw dropped. Bruce wasn't giving him a brush off at all—he was giving him permission. Which meant he really was scared. Tim swallowed hard and fell into step behind Bruce.

--

8:20 A.M.

"Bruce actually said that?" Dick repeated in disbelief.

"Twice," Tim confirmed. He could hear Bruce setting up lab equipment in the background. "Once, I could have misunderstood him, but not when he repeated it."

"Yeah." Dick was still shaking his head. "So, have you called anyone yet?"

"No. I figured since this is about you, I ought to get your take on it first."

"Thanks," Dick said, meaning it. "If I have to deal with a constant stream of people asking me how I am every few minutes, I'm going to lose it. Then I'll feel guilty for lashing out at the people who care, and..." He shook his head. "Okay. How did you and Bruce get on the subject in the first place?"

Tim thought back. "He wanted me to go to Atlanta to try to find someone who'd been working with smallpox. I pointed out that outside of Gotham or maybe San Francisco, Harrier is just some guy in a mask, and he should send Clark instead—"

"Only he hasn't told him, yet."

"Yeah. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but I thought he would have called out the cavalry—"

Dick took a deep breath. "It sounds to me like he's trying to. Okay. Yes, tell Clark. Tell Roy, but also tell him that for now, I want him to keep it quiet. He's welcome to contact me to confirm it—I've got wi-fi in here." He frowned. "Raven probably already knows. I trust her discretion."

"I wish her healing power did more than just stop pain."

"Yeah. Or the Themiscyran purple ray worked on diseases as well as injuries."

"Or that someone had heard from Zatanna in the last year."

"What?"

Bruce had stolen up on them without their realizing.

Dick sighed. "I keep forgetting you've been out of the loop on a lot of things. You know the League disbanded right before everything went... south. When they reassembled, I wasn't there, but Roy told me that there was a lot of talk about what happened before—with the mindwiping."

"Go on," Bruce urged.

"Well, Carter decided he didn't need the grief. He turned down membership. Ollie and Dinah decided to rejoin as reserves only. Hal... again, I wasn't there, but from what I heard, most people felt that the time he spent as the Spectre earned him a second chance."

"Zatanna?" Bruce prompted impatiently.

Dick shook his head. "Seven people might have voted on whether to carry out the 'wipes, but Zatanna was the one who actually did them. A lot of the people who were approached to join the new incarnation of the League had a problem with her. She tried to deal, but in the end, she just couldn't take it. She resigned almost a year ago and nobody's seen her since. Hal went by her house a few times. She wasn't there. She's given up her magic act. It's like she just dropped off the planet."

Bruce closed his eyes. "Damn." His jaw worked furiously as he struggled for control. After a moment, he opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "Tim, get the primers. When you return, assuming you haven't slept yet, grab whatever shuteye you can." He looked at his watch. "The time is now 8:27. I want you back downstairs at 1 p.m. sharp, and we'll get started." His face fell. "I'm sorry. I never did order the pizza. I'll do that now."

"I'd tell you not to bother, but I am pretty hungry."

"I'm glad you still have an appetite. Contact Barbara," he added, nearly as an afterthought. "She called when you were outside."

"I will." He winced. He'd turned off his comm-link after their last conversation. "Thanks."

Bruce nodded. "I'll be back shortly."

--

9:55 AM

Luigi's delivered the pizza at 9:55. Lucius Fox arrived ten minutes later. "Here it is," he said, handing over a thumb drive. "I'm sorry we don't have any of the tissue samples, but after all this time—"

"It's more than I had yesterday," Bruce said. "Thanks."

"How's he doing?"

Bruce rubbed his eyes. "It's too soon to know. Except..."

"Except?"

A shadow passed over his face. "I was reading up on smallpox earlier. Apparently, there's one symptom that manifests somewhat sooner than the others—something referred to as 'the anxious face of smallpox'."

Lucius frowned. "Does that mean what it sounds like? That people who've been infected tend to look... nervous?" When Bruce nodded, Lucius let out a short laugh. "Bruce, he knows what he's been exposed to. If he didn't look nervous about it, I'd have to guess he was in denial." He sobered. "Do yourself a favor. Run some real tests before you start jumping to conclusions. Before you do that," he frowned, "as much as I know you must want to roll up your sleeves and dive in, you look like you haven't slept in over a day. Adrenaline will only take you so far before exhaustion has you making sloppy mistakes."

Bruce sighed. "Dick said as much earlier."

"Yes, that would be in keeping with the good judgment I've observed in him over the last three years," Lucius said dryly. "Get some rest. And let me know if there's anything else you need."

Bruce watched him go. Then he nodded. Lucius and Dick were right. And since Tim wasn't due back for another three hours, he did have enough time for a nap.

But he was going to take it in the cave, in case Dick needed anything... or Tim arrived early.

--

5:40 PM

"Well?" Dick asked when Bruce approached the quarantine area some eight hours later. He frowned. He'd thought that he was good at reading Bruce's poker faces, but he was drawing a blank on this one.

Bruce was silent.

Dick closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Just tell me," he said. "I can take it."

Bruce pressed one hand against the Plexiglas, roughly at the level of Dick's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "There is... something in your bloodstream," he broke off, "that is..."

"Bruce?"

Bruce seemed to deflate. "There is something in your bloodstream," Bruce repeated haltingly. "It wasn't showing in the sample I took when you arrived. It is now."

Dick slumped. "Okay. At least, now we know."

Bruce shook his head. "No. No, we don't. That's what makes it so frustrating." He'd hoped that Jim's earlier concern had been unfounded. He looked at the floor. "The preliminary tests are inconclusive. There are two similar—not identical—strains of pox DNA in your bloodstream. At this point, I... I can't tell whether I'm looking at two variants of variola, or one of variola... and one of vaccinia."

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. "You're telling me that you can't tell the disease from the vaccine."

"Not at this stage. We... hit a snag with the PCR analysis. Tim was able to provide primers—markers," he clarified at Dick's puzzled expression, "which bind to pox sequences. Unfortunately, they're not specialized enough to distinguish between the different variations. And the tests that we're doing are far from routine. It's taking longer to isolate the DNA sequences we need." Bruce let out a long breath. "Factor in that this procedure didn't exist until the early 80s and," he sighed, "we're working as fast as we can, but some things can't be rushed. It may be over a week before we can identify the correct virus."

"And by then, we might know regardless."

"I wish I had better news."

Dick shook his head, smiling. "I'm glad it's not worse. You're telling me that we're still where we were yesterday: I might have it. I might not. And all we can really do is wait and see, right?"

Bruce nodded slowly. "I need to check some other test results, but I will be back in a bit."

"Sure."

After Bruce left, Dick's smile dropped away. This time, the rings did little to relieve his tension.

--

6:55 PM

Barbara came by shortly afterwards. She stayed for nearly an hour before she had to go, pleading a heavy task list. "Bruce has me working to locate Zatanna," she said ruefully. "Unfortunately, she's pretty good at covering her tracks."

"She vanishes into thin air, you mean," Dick grinned.

"Well, almost." Barbara made a face. "If she actually said 'Tnod tel Elcaro dnif em'," her tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar syllables, "We can forget it. I won't find her. If she didn't do that, I can probably get a fix on her if she leaves any kind of electronic imprint. If she uses a bank card, gets pulled over for speeding, has to show her health insurance card, I'll have her. But if she's using cash only, not driving, healing herself... if she's off the grid, there's not much I can do besides interface with security videos and hope I luck out."

Dick nodded. "Babs? Have you given any thought to what this whole... thing could mean long-term?"

She blinked at him. "Sorry?"

He took a deep breath. "We've been looking at this like it's 'either I have it and that's it for me, or I don't and I'm fine'. It's not that cut-and-dried." He looked away. "I was looking at pictures online. Of people who survived. They... were pretty bad. Are you sure you'll be able to handle being around me if... if that happens to me?"

Barbara shook her head, disbelieving. "Dick, I'll admit that when we started dating, your looks were a selling point, but if that was all you ever had going for you, we wouldn't be together now. I'm not saying it won't take me a little time to adjust, but it's going to take more than a few pockmarks to scare me away." She brought her lips to the Plexiglas. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Dick brought his lips to the same spot. "The sooner the better," he said with feeling.

As she rolled away, however, Dick was thinking about how often Barbara had insisted that he had blinded himself to the reality of her wheelchair. It made no difference how many times he had insisted that it didn't matter—she'd decided that he was in denial. The big question in his mind now was whether he was being just as blind as he'd once thought she was... or whether all those times that Barbara had insisted that he'd been mixing up love with pity, she'd been projecting her own biases.

--

1:11 A.M.

Dick woke up feeling as though his mind was wrapped in cotton. It was hot in the quarantine unit. He got up shakily and stumbled toward the screen that walled off the bathroom from the rest of the area. His vision was blurry and he rubbed at his eyes. That was when he froze. Something was wrong. His hand felt... lumpy. And his face...

With dawning horror, he moved toward the bathroom mirror as fast as his unsteady legs could take him. He turned on the light and beheld a face so covered in pustules it no longer looked human. He couldn't see his eyes at all, only black, cavernous sockets.

Dick screamed.

"It's all right," a voice said gently. "It's all right. I'm here. I've got you." An arm wrapped around his back, pulling him up.

Dick tried to curl into a ball. "Bruce. P-please, go away," he moaned. "Don't see me like this."

There was a pause. "Like what?"

How dense did Bruce think he was? "I saw my reflection," he snarled. "I know what I look like. So stop trying to pretend like nothing's wrong, when—"

All at once, he felt Bruce's other hand close on his wrist. "Dick, I'm going to move your hand and I want you to tell me what you feel."

"What?" Dick demanded. "You think this is some kind of game?"

"If you like." Before he could utter another word of protest, Bruce was already pulling at his wrist. "Now. What do you feel under your hand?"

"If I answer you, will you go?"

"Report."

"I'm touching the blanket, okay?"

Bruce pulled at his wrist again. "And now?"

The stubble was rough against his palm. "You haven't shaved in two days."

"How about now?"

Dick made a disgusted sound. "Well, of course, that's my own face." He stopped. The skin was smooth. Not entirely smooth—he had a day's growth of stubble, though it wasn't as bad as Bruce's. But there were no lumps. No... pustules. He opened his eyes. He was sitting up in bed. Bruce still had an arm around him. "I was dreaming," he whispered.

"Yes."

"I was," he tried to remember. "Before I turned in, I was accessing some web pages on smallpox. Some of them had... pictures."

"I know," Bruce squeezed his shoulders. "You left your browser open. But what you saw was an old file photo. And what you experienced was a nightmare."

Dick nodded. "Thanks for not saying 'only' a nightmare." He shuddered. "I guess this is a good time to be grateful I don't have precognition."

"Yes." Bruce let go of his wrist but kept his arm around Dick's shoulders. "Are you feeling better now?"

"I guess so." He lolled his head against Bruce's shoulder. "At least well enough to try to get back to sleep." He winced. "I must've overdone it with the rings. My arms are killing me."

"Take it easier tomorrow then," Bruce said, as he gently eased him down to the mattress. He smiled reassuringly. "All right. Rest. I'm going to do the same—I have more tests running, but I won't have any results for another four hours."

Dick nodded. He wanted to ask if Bruce had made any headway, but he had a feeling that Bruce would have told him immediately if he had. "Okay," he smothered a yawn. "See you later."

--

7:21 A.M.

This time he slept without dreaming. When he opened his eyes again, he didn't feel any better rested. His body still ached, his nose was stuffy, and although he was sweating profusely, he felt cold.

Tim approached the unit carrying a tray of food. He took one look at Dick, set the tray hurriedly down on a nearby counter and ran back toward the lab, hollering for Bruce.

Bruce was there in seconds, his expression worried.

"I told you, 'no news was good news'." Dick coughed. It was a feeble joke at best.

Bruce didn't smile. "It hasn't even been three days," he said, sounding stunned. "Smallpox doesn't progress this quickly."

The three men looked at each other with mounting horror. It fell to Tim to voice what they were all thinking.

"Unless it mutated..."

To be continued!

Let us know what you think here!