The Way Back #4

[arcalian]

The Way Back #4: Hurting
Story by Ellen Fleischer
Cover by Vic Malhotra
Edited by Jay McIntyre

Time is a healer but we can't see how
When you're caught in the moment
And the hurting is now
We don't want to see that maybe some things
Weren't meant to figure out
-Jo Dee Messina, "It Gets Better"

Thanks to Kathy, Debbie and Aiyokusama for the beta. Thanks to Sara for brainstorming. "It Gets Better" written by Jo Dee Messina. Recorded by Jo Dee Messina on her Delicious Surprise album (Curb, 2005).

[arcalian]

Batman took a quick angry step toward the newcomer. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"

The slightly-built boy blinked. "I... I want to help you fight crime."
Beneath the cowl, Dick rolled his eyes-although he wasn't sure whether it was in response to the stranger's reply, or to his own stupidity in asking the question. What other answer had he expected? When he spoke again, his tone was harsh. "Out of the question. What I do is way too dangerous to risk anyone else's safety."

The boy stood his ground. "You haven't had a Robin in almost a year. I could be him." There was a plaintive note in his voice.
Batman appeared to consider. "A couple of nights ago, some punk-kid got taken out by a boy half his size, or so he told the cops. Your doing?"

The blond youth's eyes crinkled at the corners as he nodded.
"Uh-huh. He never even knew what hit him!"

"And you took on the Ghost Dragons with Batgirl, too?"

Beneath the dark scarf that obscured the lower part of the boy's face, the smile seemed to grow broader. Or at least, his cheeks puffed out more as he snapped out an enthusiastic, "Yes, sir!"

Batman's cape swirled as he spun on his heel. "Out of the question," he repeated. "First, you're too young. Second, you're too reckless. And third, you don't have the trai-" He blinked. The boy was suddenly standing in front of him.

The boy took a deep breath. "First, I'm older than the first Robin was when he started. Second, I knew they wouldn't be able to touch me. That's why I got in close. Third, you can teach me."

Batman took an unconscious step backwards, thinking. The boy could teleport. That changed matters somewhat-the last thing he needed was a half-trained meta running loose in Gotham. "You knew that they wouldn't be able to touch you," he repeated flatly.
An energetic nod was the immediate reply. "All I have to do is this..." He touched a control on his belt and promptly vanished.

"...And I'm home free," he finished triumphantly. He was now standing some twenty feet away.

Behind him, Batman heard Green Arrow draw in his breath sharply.
"G-A," he said in a tone too low for Dodge to overhear, "I need something to distract him for a second. Got anything in that quiver that'll do the job?"

Ollie chuckled. "Is Stewart a tightass?"

Dick's lips twitched. "I'll take that as a 'yes'. Wait for my signal." He took four quick strides towards the boy.

"You've got my attention," he said quietly. "Look... um..."

"Dodge," the youth supplied eagerly.

"Dodge." He couldn't believe he'd missed the obvious. The kid was wearing a Dodgers uniform, with the last two letters of the team name removed. "One thing that I've learned the hard way is that if you rely on any one thing too much, it has a way of letting you down when you need it. The belt's a gimmick." He held up one hand as Dodge opened his mouth to protest. "It's a great gimmick. But it's no match for skill and planning. Especially because this line of work is full of," he raised his voice suddenly, "surprises!"

An arrow hissed toward them. Batman braced himself for whatever Ollie was sending their way. Dodge, unprepared, let out a startled yelp as the missile exploded, making a sound like the firing of a starter's pistol. As the youth's hands flew instinctively to shield his ears, Batman moved.

Before Dodge realized what was happening, the Caped Crusader slammed into the boy, knocking him to the ground.

"Hey!" Dodge protested. "What are you...?" He struggled in earnest as he felt a tug at his waist. "No! Don't..."

"'Arrow! Catch!" Batman tossed the belt overhand. Then he got up and, keeping hold of Dodge's shirtfront and his left arm, hauled the boy to his feet.

"And this," he continued, as he held on to the struggling boy, "is why relying on a gimmick is a mistake."

"Give that back!" Dodge lunged for the belt, but Batman's grip was unyielding. "Please. My..." He gulped. "My dad's gonna kill me."

Dick placed both hands on Dodge's shoulders. "He doesn't know you took it, does he?"

Dodge shook his head. "He made it at S.T.A.R. Labs. I was just borrowing it so I could fight crime. I was going to give it back."
Batman tightened his grip. When he spoke, though, his voice had lost some of its harshness. "Let's do that together, shall we? Where do you live?"

Dodge clenched his teeth and met the vigilante's gaze angrily.
Batman's shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. "Fine. S.T.A.R Labs doesn't close. We might as well take the belt there directly. Someone there should be able to check the records and see who's involved with that project. Of course, it might bring your father's security measures under scrutiny, seeing as they're apparently lax enough for a twelve-year-old boy to-"

"I'm almost fourteen!" Dodge snapped. His bravado dropped away. "You can't do that. My dad didn't know. It's not his fault; why do you want to get him in trouble?"

Beneath the cowl, Dick frowned. "I don't," he said shortly. "But if you're going to clam up, I don't see much of a choice. One way or another, I'm going to see that the belt goes back where it belongs tonight. It's up to you whether that's your home or S.T.A.R Labs. Now, you can be a scared kid and bring more people down with you, or you can act like an adult and tell me your address. What's it going to be?"

Resigned, Dodge gave him the address.

A moment later, Dick was escorting him to the Batmobile. "Keep an eye on the city," he told Green Arrow, as he took back the belt.
As the door closed behind him, the blond boy squeezed his eyes shut in misery. For weeks, he'd been dreaming about riding into the night at Batman's side, but this wasn't at all the way he'd envisioned it.

[arcalian]

Even through the electronic voice scrambler, Batman could hear the incredulity in her tone. "Did you just ask me to hack S.T.A.R Labs?"

"Not exactly," he replied, hoping that his young passenger didn't think that he was wheedling. "I'm asking you to check whether there's been any mention of a working prototype for a gadget like that that's been published in any recent scientific journal. If there hasn't been, then I want you to hack S.T.A.R Labs."

Exasperated snarls always sounded weird over the voder. "I'll get back to you. Anything unusual about the belt's appearance?"
Batman thought for a moment. "I can't pull it out to examine while I'm driving, but it looks like one of those web belts with a slide buckle. From the glimpse I caught of it, it seems like the front of the buckle acts as a lid for the control panel." He glanced at the boy seated next to him. "That about right, Michael?"

Dodge turned away from the window, gave him a disgusted look, and then immediately went back to the scenery flying past.

"I don't think your camper is very happy," Oracle remarked.

Dick saw the slight shoulders tense. "Do you blame him?" He asked quietly.

There was an electronic sigh. "No, I suppose not. I guess he feels about the same way I did when I took a dive off Wayne Tower and he sliced my cable. Remember?"

"How could I forget?" Dick grinned. "That was the first time I ever held you in my arms."

"Can the mushy stuff, Current Bat-Wonder. You're going to gross out your passenger," Oracle shot back. "I'll check back with you when I have something. Over and out."

"Who was that?" Dodge asked. He was still staring pointedly out the window.

Batman considered for a moment. "Once upon a time, Batgirl."

"Yeah?" Dodge turned to face him. "So, what happened? Did she retire, or something?"

"Or something," Batman said. "It was a bit more permanent than retirement. When I told you that this was a dangerous line of work? I didn't just mean for amateurs. Sometimes, you can have the best training and the right moves... and something still happens to you that can have permanent repercussions. It's happened too many times to too many good people. Don't be one of them."

Dodge turned back to the window. They'd entered Battergate already and his ride was nearly over. "Looks like I haven't got much choice, have I?"

"No." Batman made a left turn onto a tree-lined side street and parked before an unassuming townhouse. "Come on, Michael."
Michael Lasky hesitated. "I can get in by myself," he started to say, but a stern look from the vigilante silenced him. With a loud sigh, he resigned himself to his escort.

[arcalian]

"Well?" Barbara asked him later over coffee. "How'd it go?"

Dick grimaced. "His parents seem like good people. They said all the right things. Dad was absolutely horrified that junior was off gallivanting with the belt."

"But?"

"But the kid... Michael, Dodge, whatever his name is, he's been out three nights in a row that we know of, and they didn't notice a thing."

Barbara nodded. "Mind you, if he has that belt, I'm guessing that sneaking out of the house wouldn't be too difficult."

"You're right. It still doesn't excuse them not realizing that he was gone, though."

Barbara sighed. "Look, in most households, the kid isn't a trained acrobat and the parents assume that if he went up to bed, the reason they're not hearing anything is because he's asleep, not because he climbed out the window and shimmied down the elm tree!"

"And they never looked in?"

"Parents don't al..." She stopped. In point of fact, her father had done precisely that as part of his routine upon returning home from the station. For the first time, she wondered whether that had been the thing that had given her away when she'd started going out as Batgirl. She sighed. "Are you having second thoughts about teaching him?"

Dick shook his head emphatically. "No way. I haven't got the time to train a total beginner. More importantly, Montoya knows who I am, and she knows where I live, and she's already warned me about taking on an underage partner." He grimaced. "She's also right. Gotham was always dangerous. I just didn't appreciate how dangerous when I was Dodge's age. Unfortunately, it's not something he should learn the hard way." He drained the cup. "So, that was my night. Nobody shooting at me, but I wouldn't exactly call it a pleasant evening. How about yours?"

Barbara frowned. "What were you expecting that I'd discover about the belt?"

"For starters?" Dick asked. "A design flaw. The thing is too useful. If there weren't a problem with it, it'd be in production by now. Possibly standard issue for Checkmate, or some such." He smiled tensely. "You did find something, didn't you?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "Then I might have done the kid a bigger favor than he knows. Okay," he said. "Hit me. Was there one clinical test showing a miniscule possibility that the belt could possibly drive the wearer insane and give him superpowers? Over time, the belt takes over and causes the wearer to lose control of when he teleports? What cliches am I missing?"

"If anything happens to the control panel while the belt is being worn, there's a good chance that the wearer would vanish permanently. You know how, when Raven teleports, she travels from point A to point B via the Astral plane? It looks like S.T.A.R Labs was using what they knew of her ability when they were designing the belt. If something goes wrong, it could leave the wearer stuck there permanently."

Dick blanched. "Too close," he said slowly. "I wasn't sure whether to neutralize the belt by getting it off the kid... or using a batarang to knock out the controls. In the end, I didn't want to take a chance of my aim being off. If your information is right," he shuddered, "I could've worse than killed him tonight."

Barbara reached for his hand and squeezed it. "You made the right call. Don't go beating yourself up over what could have happened if you hadn't."

"I'm not. I just..." He shook his head. "Nothing. I think it's just as well I didn't know how much was riding on my decision tonight. Heard from Bruce?"

"No. But Daddy said he came home, safe and sound, a little after eleven."

"Good." He yawned. "Coming to bed?"

"In a little while. I just need to do one last check on the monitors." She wheeled toward the door. "I shouldn't be too much longer."

"Okay. I'll... keep the pillow cool for you."

"You do that." She kissed him briefly and headed off.

[arcalian]

"They still haven't fixed that scratch on the counter, I see," Jim rumbled.

The desk sergeant looked up. "Commi... I mean, um, Mr. Gordon!"

The balding man's lips curved in a welcoming smile. "What brings you here, tonight?"

Jim smiled. "Call it nostalgia. I decided it was about time for a visit."

"Well, it's good to see you, sir." The officer looked at the man standing to Jim's left. "Mr. Wayne, if you'll just take a seat, I'll tell Commissioner Sawyer you're here."

"No need, Burleigh," a woman's voice said crisply. "Thank you for coming back tonight, Mr. Wayne. If you'll follow me?"

Bruce lifted an eyebrow as Maggie Sawyer held the door to the inner office open for him. "This way," she said, turning around and striding forward. Bruce followed.

[arcalian]

"I... beg your pardon?"

Maggie frowned. "I think you heard me, Mr. Wayne. I'd like to know whether you'd be interested in helping us with training some of our special units. We're certainly prepared to recompense you for your time..."

"Not meaning to be rude, Commissioner," Bruce interrupted, "but do you honestly think that financial remuneration would factor into my decision?" It occurred to him then that Sawyer might know something about the state of his net worth that he didn't. He made a mental note to verify the state of his capital with Dick at the first opportunity.

Maggie was already shaking her head. "Not at all. But that doesn't mean that this department is expecting a free ride, either. The way I see it, even if you can't be out there yourself, you can pass on your expertise to those who can be." She focused her gaze directly on him. "I'm being completely serious when I tell you that you might be able to do as much-or more-for this city in a classroom than you ever did in a costume."

Bruce's gut reaction was to dismiss the proposal out of hand. A nagging voice at the back of his mind reminded him that, even if he did return to the costume one year from now, he wasn't getting any younger. How much longer could it be, realistically speaking, before he'd have to give up the suit permanently? Sawyer wasn't offering him this option because she felt sorry for him. And much as he felt like she was tossing him a crumb, he knew that wasn't her intention. Could he do it? Could he teach his skills to a group, not with the aim of making them his partners, but with the goal of seeing them go out and on... without him? To relegate himself to the sidelines... He clenched his jaw.

"I'll give the matter my consideration," he said finally. "When do you need to know?"

"There's no deadline, but if you're willing, I'd like to submit the proposal to the Board so that we can implement this as soon as possible."

Bruce nodded. "I'll notify you of my decision shortly."

[arcalian]

In a small café located between Alex's downtown office and Wayne Tower, Bruce waited and nursed a cup of herbal tea. They hadn't allowed him coffee in Arkham, and he found that he'd lost his taste for the drink. The plan was to meet Dick for lunch here, while Alex briefed Jim on the finer points of the companion program.

Bruce was fairly sure that he was imagining the stares from the other patrons. He hadn't been out in public since the arrest. For the occasion, he'd taken a leaf from Clark's book and donned a pair of eyeglasses. Those, combined with far more casual clothing than he'd usually worn in the past, ensured that he no longer fit the mental image that most Gotham residents had of 'Bruce Wayne, socialite'. Despite his precautions, however, he couldn't help feeling a bit exposed.

The door opened and a young man in a business suit walked in. He flashed a quick smile to the barrista and placed an order. Bruce blinked. It was Dick. At first, he thought he just wasn't used to seeing his son dressed like a junior executive, but there was more to it than that. Dick's walk, his stance, his bearing, even the cadence of his speech were different. It wasn't exactly that he was putting on a show, Bruce realized. Dick looked and acted like an up-and-coming young executive because, during the daylight hours, that was precisely who and what he was.

Dick spotted him and instantly his demeanor changed back to the young man Bruce would have recognized anywhere. He waved, got his drink and headed for Bruce's table. "Waiting long?"

Bruce shook his head. "I just got here. You look... well," he said.

Dick grinned. "Earlier night than usual, last night. You ordered yet?"

"No," Bruce shook his head again. "I was waiting for you."

"Sorry I kept you." Dick sat down and took a sip from his drink. Bruce followed suit with his own. "I have to ask once," he said apologetically, "and that's it: how are you managing back at the manor?"

Bruce sighed. "I'll adjust." He took a deep breath. "Now, I have to ask something."

"Shoot."

"What are you hiding?"

Dick nearly choked on his drink. "Ex-excuse me?"

Bruce's eyes seemed to bore into his. "I've known for some time that there've been things you've kept from me while I was away. I understand. But now, I need to know the rest of it. If the rules have changed, then I need you to explain the newest version to me before I enter the playing field." Without waiting for an answer, he plunged on. "So. Let's deal with the easier matters first. How..." he hesitated, then forced a smile. "Well. Bluntly speaking, do I have any financial worries at the moment?"

Dick grinned, relaxing. "Not really. There was a lawsuit we settled out of court a year ago, last June, for three-quarters of a billion. You'd probably have recouped most of that by now, but the way the economy's going..." he placed a sympathetic hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Sorry, Bruce. Forbes has spoken and you're only the fifteenth richest man in the world this year." He shook his head, still smiling. "Can you live with the disgrace?"

"I believe so," Bruce nodded, completely straight-faced. "Is there anything else?"

"Um," Dick bit his lip. "Yeah, actually. I'm... well... About the company. You see, I actually just met with Lucius this morning, hoping I'd have some good news, but..."

"The name change was a bit of foreshadowing," Bruce guessed.
"They don't want me back." He was rather proud that his voice stayed calm, betraying nothing of his inner turmoil.

Dick winced. "It was a little more emphatic than that," he admitted. "Technically, you still are the majority shareholder. You own the company. But if you try to actually exercise that clout..." he bit his lower lip. "Bruce, I'm sorry," he said. "The board will try to challenge your competence to return to any position of power within the company. They'll find some doctor to testify that you aren't fit. We can fight them, but it'll mean another hearing, maybe an appeal, and..." He gave Bruce's shoulder a squeeze. "Look. If you want to take them on, I will back you. One hundred per cent, no questions asked. You know that. But it could take months, or years, and the media will be salivating over every damned minute of it."

Bruce nodded, but his frown deepened. "As long as Lucius is running the company," he stated, slowly, "there's no need to force the issue. Should that condition alter for any reason, I want to be informed."

"You got it."

"Fine. Next," Bruce said briskly, "I would presume that, after my arrest, I achieved a certain notoriety. How great is that impact today?"

The Grayson Grin immediately reappeared. "It's not as bad as it could be. In a nutshell: there are a very few people who know everything-about you, me, the cowl, the Nightwing suit and so on. There's the family, of course. Besides that, it's the League, the Titans, and for sure, Gordon, Montoya, and Sawyer. There might be some other cops who are in on it, I don't know. Unfortunately, Joker's aware, too. At least, when we've fought, he's talked like he knows exactly who I am. So, those are the definites. Next up, we've got the folks who saw the press conference or read the papers, or logged in to , whatever. They believe what they were told. But," he added, "it's old news and not really that important to them. I think most people just consider it a bit of trivia, like an actor's birth name, or something." His eyes grew somber. "I'm not downplaying things. There are people out there who would like to settle old scores. Thing is, I've been racking up some new scores with them. Hopefully, by the time they make their move, you'll be ready. Either way," he smirked. Then, his eyes went flat and his voice dropped an octave in fair imitation of Bruce's own 'Bat-tone' as he continued, "I'll be watching."

Dick caught the appreciative glint in Bruce's eyes, but he waited for the nod before he went on. "Okay. There are also a lot of people who bought into the playboy image you worked so hard on. To the point where they're sure that GCPD railroaded you, and the 'real' Batman is still at large." Dick placed one hand on his stomach and the other behind his back, and, still seated, took a bow. "And of course there's a whole bunch who believe that you cracked... but not quite the way it really happened." His voice shot up an octave. "That poor Mr. Wayne," he mock-sobbed. "Flipped his lid, he did. Actually thought he was Batman, the sorry soul. They had to pack him off to Arkham. Hopefully, one day, he'll be cured..."

"Enough," Bruce snapped. But Dick saw the fleeting answering grin, just before it faded. "Thanks," he said quietly. "The measures you took to manage the situation appear to have borne fruit."
Dick nodded. "I'm glad. So, is that everything?"

"I believe so. Unless you've heard anything from Selina," he smiled.

"S-Selina?" Dick gasped.

Bruce nodded. "She rarely includes others in her plans, so..." he frowned. "You do know something."

Dick sighed. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded envelope. "I found this on her windowsill, night before last," he admitted. "I was meaning to give it to you earlier." He handed it across the table. "I'm... sorry."

Bruce carefully extracted the page inside and read the message. He let out a long, slow breath. "Well," he said. "I can't fault her reasoning."

"She loves you."

"I know." Bruce grimaced. "That's why she didn't stay." He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table. "I've lost my appetite," he said. "That should cover the meal, when it comes." He got up from his chair.

"Bruce!"

"I'll be fine."

"We haven't even ordered yet!"

"Order," Bruce shrugged. "On me."

"But..."

Bruce spun to face him. "Later," he said. "I just need to be... outside. Somewhere. I can do that now." He left as quickly as dignity would permit.

Dick watched him go. Selina, he thought to himself, I hope you know what you're doing.

[arcalian]

Nearly four hundred miles away, in Wiscasset, Maine, Selina was wondering the same thing. She'd chosen the town precisely because it was the last place anyone would think to look for her. Catwoman had always exuded a certain level of sophistication which would have fit nicely into New York, Rome, Paris, or the French Rivera. A small village on Maine's mid-coast didn't fit her profile. In a way, of course, it did; legend had it that the first Maine coon cats had been bred in this village. That bit of trivia had helped her decide on her destination. Now that she was here, however, she didn't have a clue what her next move would be.

For now, she and Helena were staying at a bed-and-breakfast. On her first day, the wife had taken her aside discreetly. "It's none of my business," she'd said with a friendly smile, "and you don't have to tell me anything. But you look like you're trying to get away from someone. I'm sure you've got good reason. If you need any kind of help, don't be afraid to ask." She put out finger and brushed Helena's cheek. "She is such a doll."

Selina had forced herself to smile. "It's not like that," she'd replied with some embarrassment. "I'm just... taking a breather."

The woman had smiled knowingly. "That's fine, dear. You know where to find me if that ever changes. I'll just leave you to get settled."

Now it was three days later, and, true to her word, the hostess hadn't pried. Still, Selina worried. The village population was only about 3,600. Once the tourist season ended and the vacationers went home, she'd stand out like a Persian in a room full of Devon Rexes.

She'd already been trying to find work, but the only positions open were seasonal. And even if it was for the short-term, Selina couldn't see herself waiting tables or punching a cash register. At least she still had five thousand in cash, in her purse, and a small velvet bag, containing three dozen top-quality rubies, emeralds and sapphires.
Each was valued at a minimum of ten thousand dollars. They wouldn't last forever, but they should hold her for awhile. Long enough for her to know where she wanted to be with Bruce, anyway.

And you're assuming he'll want to be with you after this stunt you pulled.

Selina closed her eyes. She had no doubt that Bruce understood her reasons. Had she talked to him about her fears, he might well have encouraged her to leave. But that didn't mean that he'd welcome her back.

Do you want to be with him if he isn't Batman?

Of course, she did. She loved him no matter what he was wearing. Only... the thrill of the hunt and the lure of the night had always formed a backdrop to their relationship. Without those elements, could it be as...

If that's all there ever was to the relationship, then it never was a real relationship.

Was it? Wasn't it? Selina sighed. She'd gone away to have time to think, but she couldn't say that she cared much for these thoughts.
She pushed open the door to her room. Someone had been in to tidy up, she realized. All at once, she frowned. Someone had been in here, alright, but not to clean. Her room had been searched.

[arcalian]

By the time Bruce reached Alex's office, he'd managed to calm his inner turmoil. He had a session scheduled for the hour after Jim's meeting, but he didn't think it mattered if he was a bit early.

As before, there was no receptionist behind the desk in the waiting room, but the door to the inner office was closed. Bruce was alone in the room. After a moment he took a seat and settled back to wait.

Ten minutes later, the door opened and Jim stepped out wearing a thunderous expression. He tried to banish it when he realized that he wasn't alone, but Bruce was already on his feet, his face slack.

"You can't...?" He asked, as he felt the floor dissolve out from beneath him. He couldn't, wouldn't open his life to a total stranger, he thought, even as he knew that he would have to. It was that, a group home, or a return to inpatient status. Neither of the two latter choices were options he was prepared to consider.

Jim's face darkened. "I can and I will, but this is..." He shook his head. "Do you know what's involved here?"

Bruce blinked. "I know that you'll need to ensure that I'm managing, and that you'll need to monitor my behavior."

"Did you know that you can't be out of my sight for more than fifteen minutes at a time?"

He was in freefall... without a parachute. As Jim continued to clarify the terms of the arrangement, Bruce's thoughts flickered to the dozen zebra danios, now ensconced in a fifty-gallon tank. Perhaps he should have the manor reconstructed, this time entirely out of glass, since it appeared that he was going to have to get used to living in a fish bowl for the foreseeable future.

"A long time ago," he said bitterly, "you told me that you didn't want to be my jailer."

"That hasn't changed," Jim shot back. "If you'd rather go with a trained nurse, I understand."

"I didn't mean-"

"I know," Jim said more gently. "But this is going to put more of a strain on our friendship than I'd realized. It's your call, Bruce. You might find it easier going with someone who doesn't have a history with you. I've never acted as a companion in this-or any other-program. That means I'm probably going to go by the book, at least initially-because if I make a mess of this, I'm not the only one who's going to suffer for it." He sighed. "I can use your security cameras to keep tabs on you some of the time. I asked about that. And I can still sleep in the guest cottage. Also, if Dick is around, I don't have to be. Since he's your guardian, when you're with him, he's responsible."

Bruce let out a long breath. "It's still the best option. I... we have to try it."

"Fine," Jim said. "I'll be waiting for you out here when you're done."

Right on cue, the office door opened again and Alex stuck his head into the waiting room. "Bruce? If you'll come in, we can get started."

[arcalian]

"It sounds like you've had a busy few days," Alex remarked.

Bruce's eyebrows drew together. "You're surprised that I'm coping as well as I am. You're impressed. However, you intend to warn me not to take on too much too fast, and you're concerned that I'm ignoring certain issues as opposed to dealing with them." He sat up even straighter and focused his eyes directly upon Alex's. "Am I leaving anything out?"

"If you don't feel up to talking today," Alex said mildly, "I haven't started the daily crossword, yet."

Bruce looked away. "The terms of my release," he said in a softer tone, "mandate my cooperation at these sessions."

"Given your habits prior to our meetings at Arkham," Alex said, "at the moment, I consider it a positive thing that you're keeping the appointments at all."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Don't you?" At Bruce's puzzled frown, Alex continued. "You have vast amounts of capital at your disposal. You're a master of disguise, and you have connections beyond what most people dream of. If you truly didn't want to be here, I can't see that you would be."

Bruce sighed. "There's your answer. Just because I accept the necessity doesn't mean that I have to enjoy it."

"I think you've expressed similar sentiments regarding your earlier physical training," Alex said, leaning back in his chair.

Bruce grimaced. "Precisely. If you think that I enjoyed being thrown onto a mat or slammed against a wall, day after day, merely because I returned each morning for additional punishment," his lips twitched, "you couldn't be further from the mark."

"Ah." Alex nodded. "So you have thought this through."

"Did you doubt it?"

"Yes, to be honest," Alex admitted. "I wasn't sure whether your desire to leave Arkham was strong enough to blind you to other factors." He smiled to mitigate the sting in his words. "It wouldn't be the first time I've seen it happen."

Bruce considered that. After a moment, he nodded and settled back in his own seat. "A reasonable, if mistaken, hypothesis."

"You realize," Alex said seriously, "that increased freedom isn't necessarily going to make this next phase easier for you."

"So I've just been told," Bruce stated. "But then, I'm not looking for easy. Let's start."

[arcalian]

When the plane from San Francisco landed the next morning and Tim disembarked, Cass was in the arrivals area to meet him.

"Tired from flight?" She asked, as he smothered a yawn.

Tim shook his head. "Tired from going toe-to-toe with the Terror
Titans, being too zonked to sleep on the plane, and finally dozing off about twenty minutes before landing." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm up tonight, aren't I?"

"Not like that," Cass said.

"I'll be-"

"Sloppy." She was smiling, but her eyes were deadly serious.
"Liability in field."

"Oh, come on," Tim protested, as they started walking toward the parking garage. "I just need a few hours sleep, and I'll be fine."

"Yes. Tomorrow."

"Cass..."

"Maybe longer. Hard to fight with broken wrist."

Tim blinked. "What are you talking about? My wrist isn't broke-"

Cass seized hold of his arm, none too gently. "So far. Keep arguing and things change."

Tim started to laugh, but something about the look in Cass' eyes checked him. "So," he said, "what's up with Selina?"

She blinked. "She didn't say?"

"No, it was weird. She emailed me saying she had to get away for awhile, and could I come back to Gotham to fill in. I accepted-at least until September when the new term starts, and asked her what was up. All I got back was a 'thank you'. No further contact." He registered her troubled expression. "What?"

Cass sighed. "She left."

"Yeah, I know. I just told you what she wrote to me about-"

"No!" Cass pushed open the door that connected the main airport to the parking facility. "She. Left. Like... like you left. Car is... there," she pointed.

"Like I..." Tim went white. "Oh... man."

Cass ignored him. She was already approaching the car. That was something of a surprise. "You drive?" Tim asked. "I mean..." Was Cass' reading good enough to pass the written test?

"Carefully. Not really supposed to. Got learner's permit right before Arkham fire."

If anything, Tim went even paler. "Not really sup-Cass! For crying out loud! I could've just taken a taxi." It occurred to him as she took the keys out of her pocket, that she was actually going to get behind the wheel. Maybe he should duck back into the terminal, find a men's room, and get his costume on. The Kevlar might provide an extra level of protection, and the close-fitting hood incorporated a metal plate that would better protect his skull. The Arkham fire had been... what? Two months ago? Maybe three? Not quite three-he'd just finished his April finals at the time.

He almost missed her tossing the keys to him, but caught them on reflex. A grin split her face from ear to ear. "I took bus, Tim. Dick parked car here last night and went home with Barbara. You drive us." Her smile grew wider. "Sucker."

Tim started to smile. "Why, you..."

"I do have permit. But can't drive alone." She shook her head. "Not stupid."

"Believe me," Tim said, "I know." He sighed. "Maybe you'd better tell me the rest about Selina before I start driving. I mean I left because I-" He took a deep breath. "Because I was scared and the situation sucked and I couldn't deal so I twisted things around in my head until I could find a way to blame Bruce for the whole business. In other words, I was an idiot."

"You needed to be away," Cass said finally. At first, Tim thought that she was trying to console him, but she continued. "Selina too. Only you told us before. She... contacted you and left..." she frowned. "Told you less than us, just told you... sooner. Tim? What is 'Dear John letter'?"

Tim's eyebrows lifted. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Black Canary spoke to Green Arrow. Barbara told her that was why they were in Gotham. Because Selina left one."

Tim shook his head. "Damn."

[arcalian]

Arthur Lasky held the belt carefully in his hands and sighed. He never should have brought the thing home, but Colleen had been annoyed by the long hours he'd been putting in on the project. Somehow, he'd rationalized that bringing his work back with him would be an improvement.

"Everything okay, Dad?"

Arthur looked up. "Michael! I didn't hear you come in." He shook his head. "I think we're about to see five years of research go down the drain."

"What?"

He smiled ruefully at his son. "There's a problem with the belt that we can't fix no matter what we try. Basically, it's too unstable to use in the field. I think I've known that for a few months now, but I was hoping I was wrong."

"What are you talking about? The belt worked great!"

"Michael..." The doorbell rang.

"I'll get that," Colleen called,

Arthur sighed and laid the belt down on his workbench. "We'll talk after," he said. He placed an arm around his son's shoulders. "Come on."

His hand was on the doorknob, the workroom door slightly ajar, when they heard the shouting. Father and son froze when Colleen Lasky shrieked.

"RORY!" Her cry rent the air and seemed to pierce clear through them. A second later, a new, harsher voice was heard.

"Maybe that'll tell you we ain't foolin' around, lady! Now where's your husband?"

"Let my son go!"

Rory's muffled screams and whimpers were carrying clearly as well. They choked off abruptly, after an ominous thud. Michael shot his father a horrified look. Had someone just slammed his little brother's head into the wall?

The harsh voice spoke again. "The next words out of your mouth had better be your husband's location, or the next move out of my hand is gonna be squeezing this trigger. Now where the f-"

The next thing Michael knew, his father had flung him back against the worktable, rushed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. "Colleen! What are you...?"

Shaking, Michael eased the door open a crack. They men were asking about the belt. He heard his father say shakily that it had been returned to S.T.A.R. Labs.

"By now, they've almost certainly destroyed it," he continued. "You've just terrorized my wife and son..."

"Yeah," the harsh voice said. "Sorry about that. Long as you cooperate, I don't think we'll need to do it again. Of course, if you don't cooperate." There was a click.

"Yes," Arthur said heavily. "Yes, I understand."

The voice chuckled. "Good. The way I see it, if you could create that belt once, you can do it again. I've got a special facility where you can work. Your family comes along as insurance. If you complete the belt, you all get to go home in peace. If you try anything... well... don't try anything. I don't think your kid's head is that hard." The voice turned silky. "Technically, we only need one hostage. If you so much as look at one of us crosswise, I promise you that we will only keep one hostage. Maybe you'll get to pick." The voice turned businesslike. "Check the house. He's supposed to have another son."

"He's out," Arthur said. "On a camping trip for the next few days. Go ahead. Search all you like. Just like the belt, he isn't here."

Michael bit his lip. "I'll get you out, Dad. I swear it," he whispered. Then, he buckled the belt on and programmed the controls. He had to get back to the docks. He had to find Batman.

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