“Preservation”
Chapter Two
Batman hated these weekly meetings, but there was nothing he could do about them. He needed to see the boy, needed to reassure his middle child that no matter what, he would always care for Jason, even if the former Robin had become a psychopathic murderer. He should have seen it years ago, Batman chastised himself. He thought he saw a sparkle of a hero in the boy’s eyes like he had seen in Dick’s, but he was wrong. He handled the situation completely wrong, and ultimately, his mistake cost the boy first his life and then his sanity.
When he was buzzed in, Batman entered the tiny Arkham cell and looked down upon the boy sprawled out on the bed wearing the orange jumpsuit. “Ah, right on time, ‘Dad.’ Nice of you to drop in for the weekly guilt trip.”
Today’s situation differed, however. Today, Batman had an agenda. “Jason, I…”
A shocked expression crossed the boy’s face, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit up. “Oh my God. Are you serious? Are you really going to ask for my help? Hold on.” Tucking his feet under him and pressing his back straight, Jason pretended to give the Dark Knight his entire rapt attention. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”
Batman took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I…I need your help, Jason. Please.”
“Please? Wow, this must be bad. Whadda ya need that I’m going to pretend not to know?”
“Luthor paid you to work for him and meet Nightwing and me in that lab. What do you know about him?”
Disdain dropped Jason’s overzealous smile into a deep frown. “You need my help to save him, huh? Is that it?”
“Jason—”
“No.” The younger man shot off the bed and shook his head fiercely. “No, no, no, no, no, no, NO! As far as I care, he’s gotten what he—guk!”
Batman slammed his elbow into Jason’s throat and forced the boy into the wall. “No. You’ve crossed the line.”
“In case you didn’t notice,” the boy croaked, “I crossed it years ago, and so did he.”
“He never pulled the trigger.”
“Yeah, he let his little bitch do it. At least I have the guts to handle my own shit.”
Batman knew the routine by now, and he knew how his children acted and their motivations behind those actions. Like now Batman felt sorry for the boy he held, and perhaps it was his own misgivings. He originally tried to make Jason into Dick, the good soldier, when he took the boy in to train, but Jason never was Dick, never could be. And he shouldn’t have tried to make the boy be. He learned that by the time Tim came around.
Instead of pounding the boy, Batman let Jason go and stood straighter. “Listen to me.”
“Like hell—”
“You may be angry with me, and I understand that. But Dick did nothing to you.”
“Oh, please.” Jason rubbed his neck and winced. “He makes me sick the way he acts like your little—”
“When you
first came into his business, he tried to help you out anyway he could, even
though he was furious with me for adopting you and not him. He gave himself to
you, made himself available to help you anyway he could, not as a friend but as
a brother, when he could have easily just ignored you. He had already turned
his back on
“So, what are you saying?” Jason narrowed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. “I should put all those hurt and angered feelings aside and to do the altruistic thing and help out my ‘brother’ because he helped me?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, okay, but where was he when I needed him the most? When I could’ve have used someone to understand what I was going through with my mother? Where was your golden boy then?” Jason scowled and flopped himself onto the bed, turning his back on the Dark Knight. “Face it, Batman. Not everyone cares to live up to your unrealistic expectations.”
Batman stared at the boy for a long moment, knowing where he went wrong and how it cost the boy dearly. He turned but paused long enough to murmur, “I’m sorry we failed you, Jason.”
He opened the door to leave when Jason rolled over and blew out a long, exasperated sigh.
*^*^*
“Red and blue roses? They’ll clash, and don’t tell me Superman came up with the idea, or so help me God, I will smack you with a rolled-up newspaper.”
Nightwing had a hard time keeping a straight face. “Would you believe it was Dinah’s?”
“No because she said something about gray and black, which you better not utter,” Barbara Gordon growled—actually growled—at her fiancée, before looking at the screen. “Dick, we, uh, we need to talk.”
“Uh, oh. What’d I do?”
“I want my father at the wedding.”
Dick blinked and almost lost his footing on the building he’d just landed upon. “Wait. What?”
“My dad, Dick. I want my dad at this wedding. It’ll be my first and hopefully only one, and I need him there.”
“But you’re marrying Nightwing with all of his and Oracle’s caped friends.”
Oracle turned and glared through the screen. “Dick, this is my dad we’re talking about. He’s coming, and he already knows I was Batgirl and am Oracle, so only the big secret here is you, Bruce and Tim.”
“…”
“Richard John Grayson, I’m not budging on this. I’ll budge on the flower colors, but my dad is coming. So…”
His voice came louder than expected and not through her monitor. “So, I guess I’ll talk to Bruce and see where we go from there.”
She whirled, a smirk upon her face and her arms out to greet him. “You know, there’s probably a really good chance he knows who you guys are, too.”
“Please. That’s all I need, the whole G.C.P.D. out on my hind.” When he leaned over to kiss her on the lips, he yelped at the pinch of his butt.
“Well, it is a really good hind.”
“Babs!” Blushing, he pulled his trench coat closed. “You know, you’re the reason I kept the trench coat on the uniform.”
“Please. You did that to stop Kendra from looking at your backside.” She made her way back to the computer and typed in a few keys. “So, we’ll have blue and cream roses, which I think will look good with your outfit.”
“I’m not wearing the old one.”
“Dick—”
“I’m not.”
“Do you love me?”
“…What game are you trying to pull?”
“Do you love me?”
Dick narrowed his eyes and took off his mask. “Of course.”
She grinned back sweetly at him. “Then you’ll wear the old outfit.”
“And if I don’t?”
An evil smirk. “Then I’ll call Bruce and see what he says about the whole thing.”
A soft pout crossed his features before a bleep sounded, and Dick glanced down at his comm. unit. “See what you caused by saying his name?” He hit the button. “You know, you’re scary at times.”
“So I’ve
heard,” Batman rumbled. “Watch
“Was that,
‘Dick, would you mind watching
“I heard about the cream roses.”
“‘Of course, Dad. No problem. Thanks for—’” Dick glared at Barbara. “He knows the flower colors before I do?”
Barbara smiled and went back to her computer. “He’s paying for it, and I told you to tell him to back off.”
“I heard that,” Batman said as his face popped up on the screen.
Rolling his eyes, Dick shut off his unit and threw up his hands. “So, where are you? If it’s League business and you didn’t call me—”
“I have a lead on a case I’ve been working on—”
“My case?”
“—and I need to act upon it.”
Nothing ever changes. “You know, there is this new fangled thing called a teleporter. It gets people anywhere else on Earth in a matter of seconds.”
“No, this is something I have to do myself.” When Dick opened his mouth to protest, Bruce interrupted, “Trust me.”
“Always but I want in on this.”
“And you will when the time is right.” Bruce moved to cut the connection but stopped for a moment. “And Dick? When you go to see Commissioner Gordon, don’t wear the trench coat.”
“It hides my ass, which I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but everyone seems to comment on how great it is.”
“Then wear a cape.” He terminated the connection.
Dick huffed, “You ever notice how demanding he is?”
“Hey, he’s your father.” She resituated her glasses upon her nose and motioned toward the sky out of her window. “And you’re needed, Hunk Wonder.”
When she turned toward her computer again, she waited a few moments for him to leave before she whirled back again. “Honey?”
Dick swiped his mask off the console but dropped his jacket in its place. “Any luck with the meeting yet?”
Barbara’s face fell. “No, but then again, Talia can be a hard woman to find. I’ll let you know the minute I hear an innocent soul cry.”
*^*^*
Batman
crouched on the edge of the roof overlooking the streets of Metropolis, and
even at nighttime the bright lights made him feel uncomfortable. While most
people felt like they needed a shower after leaving
“You look like a man on a mission,” Superman said with a wry smile, his breath forming clouds in front of his face. “What brings you to Metropolis?”
Batman stood and tucked away his tool in his belt. “Nothing that interests you.”
“If it involves Luthor and my nephew, then it interests me.”
“He’s not your nephew,” Batman snapped and turned to glare straight into Superman’s clear eyes. “I don’t have time to nurse your guilt, so stay out of my way.”
“Luthor did this to Dick because he wanted to kill me. I can’t let that pass.”
“Then what
do you want from me? To soothe your ego and your guilty
feelings by dismissing the facts? By abdicating your responsibility? It
doesn’t work like that,
“By holding yourself responsible.”
“When you
go home tonight,
Superman kept Batman’s dark glare before following the man’s former gaze toward Luthor’s penthouse. “I’d tell you it’s not your fault, but you won’t believe me. Will you at least accept my help?”
Batman let the rope slip between his fingers before he turned and pointed at Superman’s chest. “This isn’t over between us.”
“…I know.”
Putting out his hand, Batman closed his eyes for a moment as he felt the weightlessness bottom out in his stomach. After all these years, he thought he would be comfortable with this or at least would have become accustomed to it, but that wasn’t the case. Even now, he only opened his eyes because he knew they were closing in the warehouse.
“I should probably take Mercy,” Superman suggested.
Batman shook his head. “No. I need to work out my frustration.”
“Great. I’ll have to stop you from killing her.”
“Don’t.”
“I will because Dick will be disappointed if I let you do it.”
Batman grunted, knowing Superman to be right.
The top of the warehouse crumpled with one punch, and Batman allowed the abrupt entrance this time. He wanted to sneak in first, but under the circumstances, perhaps the direct approach was for the best.
Batman pushed off of Superman and jumped forward at the sight of a particular woman. Mercy fired at him once her momentary shock wore off, and he flung out a batarang to disarm her. With the gun discarded, he rushed forward to kick her, but the woman blocked the attack. She retaliated with her own punch, which Batman caught with his fist. Squeezing it until her knuckles cracked, he forced his heel into her stomach and sent her flinging backwards into a wall. Her lifeless body left a trail of blood as it thumped to the floor.
“So, just what is ‘excessive force’ to you?” Superman quipped. “I hope death qualifies as such.”
Batman stood straighter. “I have two children who make dry jokes all the time. I don’t need to hear more from—”
By the time Batman turned, Superman grunted and fell to his knees, and the opposition they had multiplied in number and exponentially in danger. From the shadows had emerged came ninjas, and by the cuts across Superman’s arms and chest, their swords were kryptonite-laced.
Batman flew forward, kicking a ninja in the gut and stealing his sword. Combating ninja after ninja, he made his way to Superman, only for the fellow superhero to hit off the seven on top of him with two punches.
“Is this usual for you?”
“When Ra’s al Ghul’s involved, it’s usually more.”
Batman jumped over Superman’s back and kicked the sword away from a ninja who almost ran Superman through. When he landed, four attacked at once, and he easily took out three. The forth, however, held Superman by the neck with his sword. The amount of kryptonite, though small on each’s blade, was enough to slow Superman down. He immediately dropped his weapon and allowed two of hold his arms behind his back.
“You really should have made an appointment, Bruce,” a sneer sounded behind Batman.
Luthor had guts. That much Bruce knew. The man stood behind he and Superman, calm and smirking hatred, his arms crossed in a naturally baiting stance. His clothes were not threatening in the least—a simple gray turtleneck and trousers.
Superman narrowed his eyes; his voice was weaker than usual, though no one else but Batman would probably know. “Where’s Franklin Madison?”
“So, that’s why you’ve come. And here I thought you wanted to beg me not to reveal to your identity to the world. I, of course, would be more than willing to make a trade for that, Bruce.”
“My identity is negligible, and no, I will not be willing to trade my son for it.” Batman said, twisting his wrists. It would be easy to break away. “And you don’t want to reveal it, either. As a maskless vigilante with nothing but revenge and no law to answer to in as ‘Bruce Wayne,’ just think of what I could do to you.”
“Nothing more than you’ve done already.”
“I wouldn’t assume, Luthor,” Superman interjected. “The only reason neither of us has killed is because Dick would feel guilty. Don’t push us to ignore his feelings.”
“You are wasting your time.” Luthor turned away.
A cocking sounded, and before Batman could turn, he saw the glimmer of green against the wall.
*^*^*
“Ooh, what happened to the trench coat?”
Nightwing tried to stop the rolling of his eyes as he threw
a line and cut through the
Robin followed in just a fluid a motion, a smirk parting his lips. “Yeah, I hear Gordons have a thing about your ass.”
“Okay, do you want to be spanked? Seriously? Because I can still kick your—” They landed on the rooftop as one, and immediately, Nightwing’s kidding attitude subsided for his business persona. “—I assume there are problems on the streets again, Commissioner?”
Stepping out from behind the Bat Signal, the commissioner narrowed his eyes at the two boys. “Where’s your big scary friend? On a night like tonight, we sure could use him.”
Robin shook his head. “I never like that phrase. It’s usually followed by a—”
“‘There’s been a break-out at Arkham,’” Nightwing finished and threw back his head with a sigh. “There’s been a break-out, hasn’t there, Commissioner?”
“When isn’t there, son?” The man handed Nightwing a folder, and Robin peeked over his brother’s shoulder to read it. “Of course, it’s always the insane ones who escape.”
“Aren’t they all ‘insane,’ sir?” Robin asked.
“No, most of them are crazy in Arkham. The truly insane ones are the ones we all know by name.”
Nightwing shook his head as he read one of the first names on the list. Red Hood. It was Bruce’s name for Jason when he admitted him into Arkham. Great. Not only did the Scarecrow and Zsasz escape but also their psychopath of a “brother.” In fact, the explosion came from Jason’s cell. They weren’t even sure if he was still alive. Yeah, right. The body found in his cell with his jumpsuit wouldn’t match his DNA.
Well, at least Arkham had enough sense not to put the Joker next to a Bat kid.
Nightwing shut the folder and handed it back to the commissioner. “We’ll look into it—sir?”
The commissioner reached over the folder to grab Nightwing’s wrist and tug him forward. “Excuse us, Robin. I’d like a talk with your older brother.”
“…uh, okay…?”
Nightwing swallowed down a gulp at the strength of the hold, which almost tore through his Kevlar to rip his artery. “Sir, is there a—”
When Gordon finally stopped on the opposite edge of the roof, he surprised Nightwing with his calm, worrisome gaze. “I know this isn’t any of my business, but…are you okay?”
Eyeing the man, Nightwing pursed his lips and shrugged. “I—I…really don’t know how to answer that.”
“Look, I might not swing around the rooftops or go through whatever rigorous exercises you do for this job, but I did know the difference between every single one of those different Batmen who were in your boss’s suit. And I can tell you right now that even though your face has been altered and your suit changed, you’re still the same kid who used to wear short pants and pixie boots.” He released Nightwing’s wrist to pat the boy on the shoulder. “I—I don’t want to know what happened, and I’m not sure if I even want to know. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
The man wasn’t even his father-in-law yet, and still, after all these years, he cared. A soft grimacing smile graced Nightwing’s face. “I—I’m dealing, sir. Is that a good enough answer for you?”
The commissioner smiled. “I’ll take it.”
With that, Nightwing handed the report back to Gordon and motioned to a building just off police headquarters. Even though no one appeared to be there, Robin detached himself from the shadows after Nightwing jumped off the roof, and together, they swung out of sight.
“So, what was that about?” Robin asked once they were sufficiently away.
“Gordon just wanted to make sure I was okay…with all this.” He motioned toward his face. “After all, this is the first time since I’ve come back that we’ve seen him without Batman.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“I told him who I was and that I’m marrying his daughter. He took it fairly well since his grandchild will most likely have my ass. Now, let’s focus on this break-out and hopefully have all the kiddies in their nice little cells by morning.”
Robin snorted and dropped down into the alley where they stashed their bikes. “Who do you want to attack first? Jason?”
“Do you have a problem with every single one of our brothers except me?”
“Uh, don’t you?”
Nightwing thought for a moment. “I withdraw the question. We’ll probably have better luck with the Scarecrow. He’s more predictable. Jason…” He looked up into the sky. “He’ll show up when he wants to.”
*^*^*
“Superman, down!” Batman shouted as he broke away and kicked the ninjas holding him. Turning, he threw a batarang. His accuracy was true, even though he didn’t know what he was aiming at when he threw it. Hitting the gun’s barrel and distorting the person’s aim, Batman leapt over Superman to hit the man in the face with his foot. By the time the man collapsed to the floor, Batman already held the weapon and aimed it directly at Luthor’s back. As he fired, a shimmering glowed before the CEO and a robot warrior, made by the new Toyman it seemed, stood ready to protect Luthor. One by one, they lined upward, and only once the former CEO was sufficiently protected, did Luthor turn.
“As I said, you are wasting your time.”
“I never took you to be a lapdog, Luthor.”
Lex Luthor’s eyes narrowed. “Says the man running around in a bat suit.”
“Whose idea was it to use my son for this project?” Batman kept his canon aimed at the robots. “It was Ra’s, wasn’t it? He told you to give Franklin Madison the money and how to use his expertise, and he told you to use Dick. Didn’t you ever question why? And what could you possible want in return?”
Luthor’s face darkened. “My reasons are my own.”
Now Batman wished he wouldn’t have agreed to this partnership. “For Kon-El. You used my son for this project, and in return, Ra’s lets you use the Lazarus Pit to resurrect your dead clone. This time, Kon-El would worship you because you would have powers like his, like Superman’s.”
Superman’s knuckles crackled, and Batman knew he only had a few seconds before the entire building was flattened. He knew the feeling, had felt it every single time he fought the Joker since Jason died. It was the same anger he now felt toward Luthor.
The ninjas went flying, and one by one—sometimes four by four—they slammed into the walls of the building.
“The Lazarus Pit has powers, Lex, but Kon-El has been dead too long. This whole sick project was doomed from the start, and Ra’s knows that. You were played.”
“No!” Lex growled. “I can bring him back.”
“Nothing you or anyone else can bring him back. If so, Superman would have done it long ago.”
Batman closed his eyes as Luthor shared the same realization as any parent who lost a child, and for the first time, the Dark Knight saw Luthor’s strong front crack. No matter what one could say about the former CEO, president, and villain, he was still a father. “Well, soon they will say the same to you.”
“We’re not leaving without Franklin Madison,” Batman affirmed.
Luthor smirked with eventually grew to a devilish smile. “Oh? I’m sorry to say, but Dr. Madison isn’t here. I believe he had to make a house call.”
*^*^*
As wind began to howl and a touch of moisture made Nightwing’s nose twitch, winter began its inevitable assault upon autumn, and all he wanted was his trench coat back. It was black, after all, made of the same material as Batman and Robin’s capes. It wasn’t really a trench coat, more like a more constrictive cape, and at the time he just wanted to hide the symbol on his chest because another was wearing it, an imposter, a fake.
Maybe that was why he wanted it still. He wanted to hide who he was. He didn’t want to be Dick Grayson or Nightwing or Batman’s son because if he was, then he would have to admit that he failed, that he was truly dying, and he…he didn’t want to acknowledge that.
The coldness crept through his Kevlar suit, and he shot a look at Robin. His younger brother leaned over the edge of the science lab in which someone had just tripped an alarm. Robin looked up at him with a smile and nodded toward the ten-story building with unusually large windows, perfect for vigilantes making an unwanted entrance.
“Ready?”
No clouds formed in front of Robin’s mouth. It wasn’t that cold outside, and it was then Nightwing realized the coldness was inside him.
Like always, he threw on an overzealous smile not to alarm Robin and touched his left ear. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
“I’m reading the mist, FBW,” Oracle replied. “What more do you want?”
A mischievous smile curled onto Nightwing’s face. “I can’t tell you while the kid’s here.”
Robin slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Think clean thoughts.”
“Hey, I’m twenty-five. I can think whatever kind of thoughts I want, especially because…y’know, I’m not getting any…”
From his perch before the office building, Robin looked at his older brother with furled eyebrows. “Say what?”
“Uh, hello?” Nightwing scowled and
took out a line. “I’m part Ra’s al Ghul. If Oracle
and I were to have a kid, then he or she would be also a descendent. It’s kinda like
“So’s Lian.” Robin paused. “So, why’d he have her then if he knew one day her organs could be taken for Vandal’s?”
Oracle laughed. “I don’t think he actually planned it that way.”
“But I’m looking ahead,” Nightwing said, raising his chin a little. “I’m not going to let what’s happening to me happen to my kid.”
“So, abstinence works, huh?”
Junior sidekicks. They were great kids but had no respect for the more “mature” crimefighters. “Throw your line. Just throw it before I throw you.”
Robin ducked the playful attack and threw his line before diving off the building. Smirking, Nightwing shook his head and followed. The rush of adrenaline felt good, needed, and without the safety net of powers, he once more thrived with it.
His added weight allowed him to catch up with Robin, and together, their boot heels broke the window. As they brushed off the glass, Nightwing spotted the straw hat and clothes, as the lithe criminal ransacked the lab’s chemicals to make his toxic gas. In front of him, ten or so thugs turned to see them.
The Scarecrow pointed his thin finger. “Don’t just stand there, you idiots! Show them a little fear!”
Robin let out a sigh as the goons rushed forward. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand. Maybe you can explain it to me.”
Jumping forward and kicking a gun out of a thug’s hands, Nightwing shrugged. “Shoot…oh, poor choice of words.”
“You just can’t let a bad pun go, can you?”
“Was that your question?”
A punch, a kick, and a hit with his rod, Robin took down three goons. “How is it that we hardly have a second to grab a hotdog on the way over here, but the Scarecrow can have ten goons lined up like nothing?”
Nightwing elbowed another in the jaw and dropped to the floor to hit another. “See, it’s like this. We have rules. They don’t.”
“Rules? Like what? Gravity? The space-time continuum?”
Nightwing narrowed his eyes as he watched Scarecrow finish throwing bottles into a bag and dash out the door. “Great. Scarecrow’s burning straw. Someone give me a torch.”
“You think Batman will just happen to show up now?”
“Nope, he’s a good guy. Has to follow the rules.” Nightwing hit one of the goons with his escrima stick, knocking him out cold. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I got this. Go face your greatest fear—or a guy in a really bad Halloween mask.”
“I know! I wonder if he reuses it or gets a new costume.”
By the time he finished the statement, he was already out the door. Looking left and right, Nightwing saw the door to a suite down the hall squeak shut and dashed down the corridor. He kicked open the door, only to met with a face full of fear gas.
Even as he coughed and stumbled backwards, Nightwing cursed himself. He should have instructed Robin to put on a mask before they engaged and followed the advice. It was his own stupidity, and now he’d have to live with it for the next day or so, even once he took the antidote.
Grimacing, Nightwing blinked his eyes and waited for what always came with this—Batman telling him he’d disappointed him.
He gasped, however, as the person came into sight. It wasn’t Bruce, probably because he knew by now how his father felt about him. Instead, it was Franklin Madison, dressed unlike Nightwing had known him with a large trench coat, turtleneck sweater, and a pair jeans. In his hand was a syringe.
That pathetic expression he wore when experimenting, apologetic but resolved, once more contorted his face.
“I’m sorry
we must meet again,
To Be Continued…