![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Duality
Fandom: Batman Begins and Superman Returns
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,882
Characters/Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake
Acknowledgments: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
damo_in_japan for betaing this.
Previous Part: Chapter 3
Next Part: Chapter 5
Summary: What were you doing the day Superman returned?
Damnit, damnit, damnit!
Okay, I played that relatively cool, but damnit! I’m not back ten minutes and the first thing I do is embarrass Lois. Stupid plane. I was hoping to get my bearings in Metropolis… heck, the world before I made my return, but now Superman and Clark Kent are back on the same day. Hopefully none of my highly-trained colleagues at the Planet will notice that.
Well, I’m not getting any “Clarking” done like this. Might as well burn off some steam with an old-fashioned around-the-world.
Clark touched down on Everest, red boots carefully avoiding the flags planted there. There’d been a dozen new ones planted since he’d last been there. In the quiet and solitude of the Himalayas, he strained his hearing to the maximum. Soon, he had a destination. With a sonic boom, he was off to save lives.
It is good to be back, though.
***
Barbara came out of the dojo late in the afternoon. The sun was still up in the sky, but it was eying its watch. Still in her gi, soaked with sweat, she lugged her regular clothes behind her in a denim tote bag. She didn’t get five steps before someone wolf-whistled. Wolf-whistles. You didn’t get that too often these days. At least someone had an appreciation for the classics.
“So, tell me something,” he said from the driver’s seat of his car, him being of the handsome but scruffy variety that could come out of the alleys and into the light without bursting into flame, his car being an old clunker of a Gotham Motors Model 77, “do those legs go all the way up?”
She walked a ways, looking around. The neighborhood was virtually deserted, except for some bums and next-to-bums, who could only be here to score drugs.
“Don’t you ever lay off?”
“When there’s girls like you around, why would I?”
She walked past his car. He took it out of park and idled after her, knocking on the gas a few times to catch up to her.
“Come on, get in the car.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Nope, just you… tonight, that is.”
Just by looking at him, you could tell he was a couple years younger than her and she could tell he was trouble. She put on a show of walking to the light, red, and sharing a street corner with the beast of a sedan before cutting across the car and opening up the passenger door. He’d already cleared a seat for her out of the detritus of old fast food containers and older magazines.
“Admit it.” Dick smiled cockily, “you were always going to get in the car.”
She smiled at him. “This is me being impulsive,” she said before giving him a quick kiss. “Dad’ll be expecting me home by ten. That gives us four hours.”
“Spare me the itinerary, I’ve got us penciled in for a night on the town.” The light turned green and Dick stomped on the gas. “Dinner and a show. Snacks are in the glovebox. I’ll carry what I can, but you’d better have room for some beers in that purse of yours.”
“I don’t drink.”
“You do tonight,” he said, grinning wolfishly.
At the next light, she got out, watched his face fall, then got into the backseat. The light turned green, Dick put pedal to metal, and Barbara started changing from her gi into nightclub clothes… a far cry from the conservative suit Gordon had seen her leave the house in, also stuffed into her tote bag. Only the fact that they were getting on the highway kept Dick’s eyes off the rear-view mirror. When he did catch a chance to look at it, Barbara was half-dressed and holding a girlie mag open in the reflection. The centerfold was a golden-skinned model with a mane of red hair and the biggest, greenest eyes in the world.
“So, is balloon bod here your type?”
“Baby, you’re my type, you know that.”
Barbara whacked him with the magazine and climbed into the front seat. As it turned out, half-dressed was all-dressed. Dick approved. She wore a backless halterneck dress with a skirt that left her thighs mostly bare. She couldn’t really sit without it riding up, so she kept her legs crossed. That was fine with him too.
“It says here that Miss Anders likes long walks on the beach, star-gazing, flying... hey, there’s a smudge… flying kites.”
“Skip to the articles, that’s what I’m really interested in.”
***
Two hundred dollars for a week’s work. Jason had seen fatter money rolls from drug mules and the big pimps who came by to rattle at the girls. But this was his. The Jason Todd Enrichment Fund. He must have ripped off every hubcap in the East End to make it. Two hundred bucks. Enough for a warm bed or a warm meal or a warm woman, maybe.
He was still thinking about what to do with all the money when they hit him. His legs wouldn’t carry him, but his arms still obeyed. He held them up to ward off the next blow. It was no good. He felt the stickiness trickling down his scalp far more than the blow itself.
Crowbar, he thought as a hand picked the money roll out of his pocket. My money…
***
Leslie Tompkins had always reminded Jason of one of those old movie dames. Jimmy Stewart’s mother, chiding him for his madcap antics between highballs. Except for the eyes. The eyes fit into her grandmother gig like mud in chlorinated water. They were a whore’s eyes, tired and used up and looking at him was using more of her up. Her severe face, as if resenting him for robbing a little more of her, crinkled.
They were in free clinic, an exam room. Jason was sitting on the big bed wannabe thing. The mat was ripped up even below the kinked medical sheet that covered it. He didn’t even mention the stain on the wall. Other then that, it was pretty okay. As far as hospitals went.
“Mild concussion, emphasis on the concussion, not the mild,” Doc Tompkins diagnosed as she finished wrapping his forehead with a thick bandage. “You should know better than to take shortcuts down dark alleys.”
“I thought Batman would protect me,” Jason jibed.
He saw Holly outside through the wire-covered window in the door. He waved to her. She was his age. She turned tricks, but he thought she was still pretty cool for a hooker. Kinda cute; at least the johns said so.
“Sup, Holly,” he said when she barged in. He jumped off the exam table as she hopped on. “What is it this time?”
“Gonorrhea. Can’t fuck until it clears up. Gotta suck guys.”
Jason made a sympathetic groan.
“Through condoms.”
“Ouch.”
“Tell me about it. I hate the taste of latex.”
Doc Tompkins sighed wearily. Like air escaping a collapsed lung.
“What’s the big idea? You can’t catch sumthin if he’s wearin’ a rubber. Everyone knows that!”
“You tell her, Hol,” Jason said, earning him a truly withering look from Tompkins.
“I’m sorry, Holly. I don’t mean to judge you. But both of you should put some thought into your futures.”
“Yeah, Doc,” Jason said, slipping on his sunglasses. “Our future’s so bright we gotta wear shades.”
His sunglasses nearly covered up his black eye.
***
Dick’s hands felt good on her back, slipped around her side like a pickpocket. Barbara eased into him as she watched the movie. A bit more sensitive and artsy then she would’ve pegged Dick for… maybe he was just masochistic. The frequency of his bathroom breaks seemed to rule out that possibility, but he always came back to her.
She’d met him three months ago, at a mixer that Dinah dragged her too. She’d told him she was a librarian, he’d made a joke about Lady Chatterley’s Lover, and then he’d dazzled her with some college-level opinions on its themes. Reading comprehension… underrated in guys. When it turned out they went to the same school, it had taken her one afternoon to track him down during lunch period and tell him to ask her out already.
Next fall, she’d be going to Hudson University. Hudson U wasn’t the best college she could go to, but it was close to her friends and family and Dick. She was making a life decision based on having a boy in her life. It felt great. Almost as good as the flat surfaces of Dick’s fingernails brushing over her spine like an archaeologist excavating a fossil.
Pretty soon they were kissing, tasting flat cola and buttery popcorn. Barbara felt Dick’s hand on the side of her body, just under the armpit so that his thumb could touch the outermost part of her breast if he reached. Pretty soon, she had pushed and prodded at his hand enough to convince him to slip his hand under her top.
***
Jason stuck around long enough for the free meal, so he was around when Holly finished getting pumped full of antibiotics. He was out the side of the clinic, smoking a cigarette he’d bummed off one of the nurse. That time of evening, the basketball court was abandoned. Its single basketball, face covered with penciling, was jammed up in the hoop for storage.
Jason was leaning against the chainlink fence that bracketed the court, trying not to think of his future like a child would try not to think about what was making noise in his closet. His cigarette glowed hard as he sucked on it, then flicked it off into the darkness of the street. The ember glow died down and Jason let go of the cigarette smoke slowly, letting it trail out between his lips like vomit.
Holly, who had approached him, kissed him on the cheek. Then on the lips, just to make a face at the taste of nicotine. Health nut with an STD. High-larious.
“Thanks for sticking up for me,” she said.
He didn’t know he had. “No prob. Those do-gooder types… man.”
“Tell me about it. Hey, you should see if my guy would take you on. He probably would. You’ve got a pretty mouth.”
“Nah. I’m saving myself for rape.”
“So where are you sleepin’ tonight?”
Stupid question. Jason dragged his fingers over the chainlink fence, like they were claws and he could cut through it. “Not with you. Might catch something.”
She swatted at him. Not hard enough to be a slap, but her long fingernails came away with some skin. “I wouldn’t even suck you through rubber, scav. I wouldn’t even suck you through leather.” Holly’s nose wrinkled. “Hey, you smell smoke?”
Jason turned to look out at the city. Pretty soon he saw the fire.
“Fuck!”
He took off at a run. Holly tried to follow as best she could in six-inch heels, but it wasn’t until she slipped off her high heels and put on the sneakers from her hot pink purse that she was able to catch up to him. When she did, he was standing in front of the blaze. The firefighters were letting it burn, only using up precious water to keep the fire from spreading to other buildings.
The heat was so intense that Jason was sweating, even from across the street. Ashes fell like snowflakes. Holly caught one on her tongue.
“Guess Sal finally needed that insurance money,” she opined.
Jason began kicking a streetlight so hard that the light shook.
“That fuck! That fat fuck! All my stuff was in there!” All Mom’s stuff. All I have left of her. “I’ll kill ‘im!”
“G’wan. Ain’t seen the cops round here for a few months. Maybe they miss us.“
Jason wheeled on her. “Then what the fuck am I gonna do, huh? I’m not staying out after dark, not on your life, nuh-uh!”
“You could always try the Wonder Boys.”
Jason snorted. “They’re psychos.”
“Maybe, but they got connections.” Holly gave him a little tap on the chest. “Hey, I gotta get going. It’s dark out and if I’m not where Selina can see me, she’ll come looking for me, and if she finds me, she’ll tan my hide.”
Jason was already lost in thought. “Go on. I’m not holding you here.”
Holly gave him a stupid wave and ran off. The Wonder Boys were psychos, sure, but he’d thrown in with worse. And besides, they were do-gooder types. How bad could they be?
***
Dick lent Barbara his letterman jacket… God knew where he had gotten it, since he definitely hadn’t transferred in long enough ago to earn it the traditional way… and they walked through the glitzy lights of Cinema Street without fear. It was well-lit, after all, with two or three cops walking the beat, one on horseback. Movie houses, theaters, and one squalid porno house that proudly proclaimed its survival of the last urban renewal with an XXX neon sign.
Her nearly bare legs were prickled with the cold, actually making her envy those ratty old jeans of his with the much-abused knees. His black tee was a little frayed at the collar, some flesh shining through, but it emphasized his athletic physique well. He unwrapped a lollipop and was about to bite into it when he offered it to Barbara, who declined. He put it in his mouth and quirked the stick to the side of his mouth like Chow Yun-Fat with a toothpick. God. He really could not pull off tough guy.
“So, where to now?” she asked him.
“Someplace warm.” He got the car door for her.
***
Tim Drake adjusted his glasses. Surely, he needed a stronger prescription. Someone had edited the Batman Wikipedia page, previously a carbon copy of the meticulously sourced and researched Batwiki page, to refer to Batman as a “dangerous vigilante.” Batman was a hero. Duh.
“Tim?” It was New Mom, doing her Mrs. Cleaver impression. She was outside his door, probably eye-level with his Keep Out poster: Superman with a talk to the hand pose. Back in his Superman phase. Back before Real Mom died. Back when the world made sense.
“Yeah Dana?” She probably thought he was looking at porn. Let her.
“Supper’s ready.”
Tim considered saying he wasn’t hungry, but he was. And that excuse was wearing thin anyway. “I’ll be right down.”
Dana left him alone.
Tim uploaded to Chloe his pictures of the Batarang he’d found. She’d IMed him to suggest he eBay it. Yeah, right. Not only was it the best keepsake ever, but a villain could trace its origins to find out who Batman was. Tim should know. It was what he was doing. Upload complete, Tim logged off and went to see what was for dinner.
***
Batman counted seconds.
He solved mysteries, saved lives, stopped crimes, and counted seconds.
Six hours, forty-one minutes, and twenty seconds since Superman had gone public and he still hadn’t reported in.
Unacceptable.
A scream brought Batman back to the here and now. He looked below the corbel he was crouched on to consider Mickey Rolls, all-purpose scumbag, dangling by his toes twenty stories up.
“Don’t do this, please man, don’t do this! Someone help me!”
“You could always call for Superman,” Batman suggested.
“Help! Superman!”
Batman pulled him up and then knocked him out, finally tying him securely to the corbel. That hadn’t worked. He would have to find someone else. At this time of night, the East End was a nest of drug dealers and pimps. Even more so than usual. He would find easy prey there.
Or not.
***
Barbara was up way past her bedtime and she rather liked it.
She was pressed up against Dick’s side as they sat on the hood of his car, looking up at the stars, and she rather liked that too. There was no pollution or toxic gunk to obscure the view, not this far out. They were practically in Slaughter Swamp, they had driven so far. But the view was spectacular and it was no surprise how Dick had found it. A circus tent was erected a mile back.
And Dick brushed her hair out of the way to kiss her behind the ear and she liked that most of all.
One of the stars moved. A red one.
“Look. Up in the sky,” Barbara said.
***
Tim was practicing with the Batarang. He had to be careful not to let it get away from him. He wasn’t stupid enough to practice in the open air, but the greenhouse’s walls weren’t as sturdy as they could be. He wore gloves to keep from slicing his fingers up on the scallops (Batman must have upgraded, because Tim could see how this hunk of black metal and plastic was way more advanced than the old “throwing bats”), but the Batarang still seemed to have a mind of its own. Then a strong breeze rattled the windows so hard it was almost as if a shock wave had hit them.
“It’s a bird,” Tim said dismissively, and threw the Batarang again.
***
Jason went into the encampment under East Bridge, only mildly surprised to find bald heads (there was even a barber with an electric razor ready to shave), weapons, and bats. Hanging from the underside of the bridge like a living ceiling. None of the flying rats better shit on him, he knew that much.
A sound like a jet taking off shrieked in his ears. The bats swarmed, rising up into the night. Some twitchy methhead screamed about a roaring dragon.
“No, it’s a plane.”
The methhead looked ready to contest the point. “No, it’s…”
***
“Superman,” Batman said. “I knew you’d show your cape around here sooner or later.”
Superman set down. Already a puddle of grimy rainwater was staining his boots. Here among the gargoyles and the smell and the unending din, Batman was in his element. And Superman was never so far out of his.
“Your heart didn’t even skip one beat. I see you haven’t lost that primal instinct in your old age.” Batman wasn’t that old. But as the saying went, it wasn’t the years, it was the mileage. “That was a joke.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“I wanted to contact you before, but there was an emergency,” Superman said, his voice small and calm as medicine.
“Of course there was. I’m just surprised you didn’t have to help a little old lady across the street.”
Superman’s eyes flashed a brighter blue, almost imperceptibly. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect Batman’s privacy, but he was curious to see if there were any scars on that human face he kept bottled up. Bruce, fragile Bruce, could always have a concussion and still be working…
Dismayed, Superman shook his head. “All these years and you still keep lead in your cowl.”
“You’re not the only Kryptonian out there.”
Tell me about it. “I remember the first time we met. You didn’t keep your mask shielded then.”
Batman turned away. “And I’ve regretted it ever since.” There was a scream. “Two blocks away, Finch Street.”
Superman blurred. Was there and back again. “Done. And you don’t mean that.”
Batman said nothing.
“It’s been five years… isn’t there anything you want to say to me?”
“There’s been plenty.”
“Well?”
“Your suit…”
“Yes?”
“It’s darker. I like it.”
“Yeah, me too. I think it brings out my eyes… like they need any help!”
Batman groaned. Clark always did like to think of them as friends, like they could gossip around the water cooler or get together to play cards on Friday. And maybe they had been. But five years was a long time and there were times when Gotham could’ve used a Man of Steel. Not that he would ever say so.
He drew his PDA out of his utility belt and called up the satellite images of the meteorite hit yesterday in Kansas. He showed it to Clark.
“Nice landing,” Bruce said dryly.
Clark winced at the memory. Kara had innocently examined the controls, not knowing that Clark had configured it to be more comfortable to him after a lifetime of Earth technology, and accidentally futzed with their descent trajectory.
“Any one you can walk away from,” he returned, purposefully setting down. Just hard enough to shake the roof. Batman didn’t sway.
“I had my hackers delete all traces of it from government databases. You’re off the radar.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“That’s all you wanted to see me about? And by the way…” Clark nodded toward the tied-up thug. “You could’ve just called. Oh, that’s right. I don’t have a light with my logo on it.”
“That was Jim’s idea.”
“As if you wouldn’t geek out over it.” Then, with more concern. “I didn’t see you at the Cross-Metropolitan Ball.”
A tradition dating back to when Metropolis and Gotham had been considered sister cities. Clark hadn’t attended, of course, but he had given it a quick X-ray glance on his way to Metropolis. He had expected Bruce to find out about the crash and seek him out… why not there? It was the one black-tie affair Clark had looked forward to, knowing that at least there was someone there who could understand what he was going through. Secret identity and all.
“Even while you were here, all you did was never work up the nerve to ask Lois to dance. Now that you have an excuse for it, I have that much less reason to go. There are crimes I could be investigating.”
“You know about Richard?” Superman said tersely.
“What did you expect me to do, Clark, keep her warm for you?”
Fine. You want to play it that way… “I would’ve settled for keeping Lex Luthor in jail.”
“Believe me, I tried. He kept clean. You and his henchmen were the only three people who knew about his crimes.” Batman kept his voice in the usual cold monotone, even when he twisted the knife. Nothing personal. “You were gone and he killed them.”
”Miss Teschmacher?”
“Yes.”
“She was… a nice girl.” She had loved her mother. No one who loved their mother could be all bad. “She didn’t deserve that.”
“I’m sure the people Lex killed while she aided and abetted felt the same way.”
Superman shook his head. “What happened to you?”
“I was so young once… I had so much hope, such grand ideals… be glad you have Metropolis, Kal-El. This city isn’t fit for hope.” He stepped up onto the cornice and prepared to… not fly… fall.
There was a whoosh and Superman’s hand was on his shoulder. Batman turned. Superman pressed a wristwatch into his hand.
“It emits a signal only I can hear. If you ever need me, day or night… I’ll be around.”
“You’re always around,” Batman groused. Then clamped down hard on his lower jaw. Because Superman hadn’t been, and they both knew it.
Superman flew up, up, and away while Batman glided down to the streets. Somewhere, there was a crime being committed. Somewhere, there was a disaster to stop.
And across the street, Chloe Sullivan lowered her camera.
“Whoa. Team-up.”
Fandom: Batman Begins and Superman Returns
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,882
Characters/Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake
Acknowledgments: Thanks to
damo_in_japan for betaing this.Previous Part: Chapter 3
Next Part: Chapter 5
Summary: What were you doing the day Superman returned?
Damnit, damnit, damnit!
Okay, I played that relatively cool, but damnit! I’m not back ten minutes and the first thing I do is embarrass Lois. Stupid plane. I was hoping to get my bearings in Metropolis… heck, the world before I made my return, but now Superman and Clark Kent are back on the same day. Hopefully none of my highly-trained colleagues at the Planet will notice that.
Well, I’m not getting any “Clarking” done like this. Might as well burn off some steam with an old-fashioned around-the-world.
Clark touched down on Everest, red boots carefully avoiding the flags planted there. There’d been a dozen new ones planted since he’d last been there. In the quiet and solitude of the Himalayas, he strained his hearing to the maximum. Soon, he had a destination. With a sonic boom, he was off to save lives.
It is good to be back, though.
***
Barbara came out of the dojo late in the afternoon. The sun was still up in the sky, but it was eying its watch. Still in her gi, soaked with sweat, she lugged her regular clothes behind her in a denim tote bag. She didn’t get five steps before someone wolf-whistled. Wolf-whistles. You didn’t get that too often these days. At least someone had an appreciation for the classics.
“So, tell me something,” he said from the driver’s seat of his car, him being of the handsome but scruffy variety that could come out of the alleys and into the light without bursting into flame, his car being an old clunker of a Gotham Motors Model 77, “do those legs go all the way up?”
She walked a ways, looking around. The neighborhood was virtually deserted, except for some bums and next-to-bums, who could only be here to score drugs.
“Don’t you ever lay off?”
“When there’s girls like you around, why would I?”
She walked past his car. He took it out of park and idled after her, knocking on the gas a few times to catch up to her.
“Come on, get in the car.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Nope, just you… tonight, that is.”
Just by looking at him, you could tell he was a couple years younger than her and she could tell he was trouble. She put on a show of walking to the light, red, and sharing a street corner with the beast of a sedan before cutting across the car and opening up the passenger door. He’d already cleared a seat for her out of the detritus of old fast food containers and older magazines.
“Admit it.” Dick smiled cockily, “you were always going to get in the car.”
She smiled at him. “This is me being impulsive,” she said before giving him a quick kiss. “Dad’ll be expecting me home by ten. That gives us four hours.”
“Spare me the itinerary, I’ve got us penciled in for a night on the town.” The light turned green and Dick stomped on the gas. “Dinner and a show. Snacks are in the glovebox. I’ll carry what I can, but you’d better have room for some beers in that purse of yours.”
“I don’t drink.”
“You do tonight,” he said, grinning wolfishly.
At the next light, she got out, watched his face fall, then got into the backseat. The light turned green, Dick put pedal to metal, and Barbara started changing from her gi into nightclub clothes… a far cry from the conservative suit Gordon had seen her leave the house in, also stuffed into her tote bag. Only the fact that they were getting on the highway kept Dick’s eyes off the rear-view mirror. When he did catch a chance to look at it, Barbara was half-dressed and holding a girlie mag open in the reflection. The centerfold was a golden-skinned model with a mane of red hair and the biggest, greenest eyes in the world.
“So, is balloon bod here your type?”
“Baby, you’re my type, you know that.”
Barbara whacked him with the magazine and climbed into the front seat. As it turned out, half-dressed was all-dressed. Dick approved. She wore a backless halterneck dress with a skirt that left her thighs mostly bare. She couldn’t really sit without it riding up, so she kept her legs crossed. That was fine with him too.
“It says here that Miss Anders likes long walks on the beach, star-gazing, flying... hey, there’s a smudge… flying kites.”
“Skip to the articles, that’s what I’m really interested in.”
***
Two hundred dollars for a week’s work. Jason had seen fatter money rolls from drug mules and the big pimps who came by to rattle at the girls. But this was his. The Jason Todd Enrichment Fund. He must have ripped off every hubcap in the East End to make it. Two hundred bucks. Enough for a warm bed or a warm meal or a warm woman, maybe.
He was still thinking about what to do with all the money when they hit him. His legs wouldn’t carry him, but his arms still obeyed. He held them up to ward off the next blow. It was no good. He felt the stickiness trickling down his scalp far more than the blow itself.
Crowbar, he thought as a hand picked the money roll out of his pocket. My money…
***
Leslie Tompkins had always reminded Jason of one of those old movie dames. Jimmy Stewart’s mother, chiding him for his madcap antics between highballs. Except for the eyes. The eyes fit into her grandmother gig like mud in chlorinated water. They were a whore’s eyes, tired and used up and looking at him was using more of her up. Her severe face, as if resenting him for robbing a little more of her, crinkled.
They were in free clinic, an exam room. Jason was sitting on the big bed wannabe thing. The mat was ripped up even below the kinked medical sheet that covered it. He didn’t even mention the stain on the wall. Other then that, it was pretty okay. As far as hospitals went.
“Mild concussion, emphasis on the concussion, not the mild,” Doc Tompkins diagnosed as she finished wrapping his forehead with a thick bandage. “You should know better than to take shortcuts down dark alleys.”
“I thought Batman would protect me,” Jason jibed.
He saw Holly outside through the wire-covered window in the door. He waved to her. She was his age. She turned tricks, but he thought she was still pretty cool for a hooker. Kinda cute; at least the johns said so.
“Sup, Holly,” he said when she barged in. He jumped off the exam table as she hopped on. “What is it this time?”
“Gonorrhea. Can’t fuck until it clears up. Gotta suck guys.”
Jason made a sympathetic groan.
“Through condoms.”
“Ouch.”
“Tell me about it. I hate the taste of latex.”
Doc Tompkins sighed wearily. Like air escaping a collapsed lung.
“What’s the big idea? You can’t catch sumthin if he’s wearin’ a rubber. Everyone knows that!”
“You tell her, Hol,” Jason said, earning him a truly withering look from Tompkins.
“I’m sorry, Holly. I don’t mean to judge you. But both of you should put some thought into your futures.”
“Yeah, Doc,” Jason said, slipping on his sunglasses. “Our future’s so bright we gotta wear shades.”
His sunglasses nearly covered up his black eye.
***
Dick’s hands felt good on her back, slipped around her side like a pickpocket. Barbara eased into him as she watched the movie. A bit more sensitive and artsy then she would’ve pegged Dick for… maybe he was just masochistic. The frequency of his bathroom breaks seemed to rule out that possibility, but he always came back to her.
She’d met him three months ago, at a mixer that Dinah dragged her too. She’d told him she was a librarian, he’d made a joke about Lady Chatterley’s Lover, and then he’d dazzled her with some college-level opinions on its themes. Reading comprehension… underrated in guys. When it turned out they went to the same school, it had taken her one afternoon to track him down during lunch period and tell him to ask her out already.
Next fall, she’d be going to Hudson University. Hudson U wasn’t the best college she could go to, but it was close to her friends and family and Dick. She was making a life decision based on having a boy in her life. It felt great. Almost as good as the flat surfaces of Dick’s fingernails brushing over her spine like an archaeologist excavating a fossil.
Pretty soon they were kissing, tasting flat cola and buttery popcorn. Barbara felt Dick’s hand on the side of her body, just under the armpit so that his thumb could touch the outermost part of her breast if he reached. Pretty soon, she had pushed and prodded at his hand enough to convince him to slip his hand under her top.
***
Jason stuck around long enough for the free meal, so he was around when Holly finished getting pumped full of antibiotics. He was out the side of the clinic, smoking a cigarette he’d bummed off one of the nurse. That time of evening, the basketball court was abandoned. Its single basketball, face covered with penciling, was jammed up in the hoop for storage.
Jason was leaning against the chainlink fence that bracketed the court, trying not to think of his future like a child would try not to think about what was making noise in his closet. His cigarette glowed hard as he sucked on it, then flicked it off into the darkness of the street. The ember glow died down and Jason let go of the cigarette smoke slowly, letting it trail out between his lips like vomit.
Holly, who had approached him, kissed him on the cheek. Then on the lips, just to make a face at the taste of nicotine. Health nut with an STD. High-larious.
“Thanks for sticking up for me,” she said.
He didn’t know he had. “No prob. Those do-gooder types… man.”
“Tell me about it. Hey, you should see if my guy would take you on. He probably would. You’ve got a pretty mouth.”
“Nah. I’m saving myself for rape.”
“So where are you sleepin’ tonight?”
Stupid question. Jason dragged his fingers over the chainlink fence, like they were claws and he could cut through it. “Not with you. Might catch something.”
She swatted at him. Not hard enough to be a slap, but her long fingernails came away with some skin. “I wouldn’t even suck you through rubber, scav. I wouldn’t even suck you through leather.” Holly’s nose wrinkled. “Hey, you smell smoke?”
Jason turned to look out at the city. Pretty soon he saw the fire.
“Fuck!”
He took off at a run. Holly tried to follow as best she could in six-inch heels, but it wasn’t until she slipped off her high heels and put on the sneakers from her hot pink purse that she was able to catch up to him. When she did, he was standing in front of the blaze. The firefighters were letting it burn, only using up precious water to keep the fire from spreading to other buildings.
The heat was so intense that Jason was sweating, even from across the street. Ashes fell like snowflakes. Holly caught one on her tongue.
“Guess Sal finally needed that insurance money,” she opined.
Jason began kicking a streetlight so hard that the light shook.
“That fuck! That fat fuck! All my stuff was in there!” All Mom’s stuff. All I have left of her. “I’ll kill ‘im!”
“G’wan. Ain’t seen the cops round here for a few months. Maybe they miss us.“
Jason wheeled on her. “Then what the fuck am I gonna do, huh? I’m not staying out after dark, not on your life, nuh-uh!”
“You could always try the Wonder Boys.”
Jason snorted. “They’re psychos.”
“Maybe, but they got connections.” Holly gave him a little tap on the chest. “Hey, I gotta get going. It’s dark out and if I’m not where Selina can see me, she’ll come looking for me, and if she finds me, she’ll tan my hide.”
Jason was already lost in thought. “Go on. I’m not holding you here.”
Holly gave him a stupid wave and ran off. The Wonder Boys were psychos, sure, but he’d thrown in with worse. And besides, they were do-gooder types. How bad could they be?
***
Dick lent Barbara his letterman jacket… God knew where he had gotten it, since he definitely hadn’t transferred in long enough ago to earn it the traditional way… and they walked through the glitzy lights of Cinema Street without fear. It was well-lit, after all, with two or three cops walking the beat, one on horseback. Movie houses, theaters, and one squalid porno house that proudly proclaimed its survival of the last urban renewal with an XXX neon sign.
Her nearly bare legs were prickled with the cold, actually making her envy those ratty old jeans of his with the much-abused knees. His black tee was a little frayed at the collar, some flesh shining through, but it emphasized his athletic physique well. He unwrapped a lollipop and was about to bite into it when he offered it to Barbara, who declined. He put it in his mouth and quirked the stick to the side of his mouth like Chow Yun-Fat with a toothpick. God. He really could not pull off tough guy.
“So, where to now?” she asked him.
“Someplace warm.” He got the car door for her.
***
Tim Drake adjusted his glasses. Surely, he needed a stronger prescription. Someone had edited the Batman Wikipedia page, previously a carbon copy of the meticulously sourced and researched Batwiki page, to refer to Batman as a “dangerous vigilante.” Batman was a hero. Duh.
“Tim?” It was New Mom, doing her Mrs. Cleaver impression. She was outside his door, probably eye-level with his Keep Out poster: Superman with a talk to the hand pose. Back in his Superman phase. Back before Real Mom died. Back when the world made sense.
“Yeah Dana?” She probably thought he was looking at porn. Let her.
“Supper’s ready.”
Tim considered saying he wasn’t hungry, but he was. And that excuse was wearing thin anyway. “I’ll be right down.”
Dana left him alone.
Tim uploaded to Chloe his pictures of the Batarang he’d found. She’d IMed him to suggest he eBay it. Yeah, right. Not only was it the best keepsake ever, but a villain could trace its origins to find out who Batman was. Tim should know. It was what he was doing. Upload complete, Tim logged off and went to see what was for dinner.
***
Batman counted seconds.
He solved mysteries, saved lives, stopped crimes, and counted seconds.
Six hours, forty-one minutes, and twenty seconds since Superman had gone public and he still hadn’t reported in.
Unacceptable.
A scream brought Batman back to the here and now. He looked below the corbel he was crouched on to consider Mickey Rolls, all-purpose scumbag, dangling by his toes twenty stories up.
“Don’t do this, please man, don’t do this! Someone help me!”
“You could always call for Superman,” Batman suggested.
“Help! Superman!”
Batman pulled him up and then knocked him out, finally tying him securely to the corbel. That hadn’t worked. He would have to find someone else. At this time of night, the East End was a nest of drug dealers and pimps. Even more so than usual. He would find easy prey there.
Or not.
***
Barbara was up way past her bedtime and she rather liked it.
She was pressed up against Dick’s side as they sat on the hood of his car, looking up at the stars, and she rather liked that too. There was no pollution or toxic gunk to obscure the view, not this far out. They were practically in Slaughter Swamp, they had driven so far. But the view was spectacular and it was no surprise how Dick had found it. A circus tent was erected a mile back.
And Dick brushed her hair out of the way to kiss her behind the ear and she liked that most of all.
One of the stars moved. A red one.
“Look. Up in the sky,” Barbara said.
***
Tim was practicing with the Batarang. He had to be careful not to let it get away from him. He wasn’t stupid enough to practice in the open air, but the greenhouse’s walls weren’t as sturdy as they could be. He wore gloves to keep from slicing his fingers up on the scallops (Batman must have upgraded, because Tim could see how this hunk of black metal and plastic was way more advanced than the old “throwing bats”), but the Batarang still seemed to have a mind of its own. Then a strong breeze rattled the windows so hard it was almost as if a shock wave had hit them.
“It’s a bird,” Tim said dismissively, and threw the Batarang again.
***
Jason went into the encampment under East Bridge, only mildly surprised to find bald heads (there was even a barber with an electric razor ready to shave), weapons, and bats. Hanging from the underside of the bridge like a living ceiling. None of the flying rats better shit on him, he knew that much.
A sound like a jet taking off shrieked in his ears. The bats swarmed, rising up into the night. Some twitchy methhead screamed about a roaring dragon.
“No, it’s a plane.”
The methhead looked ready to contest the point. “No, it’s…”
***
“Superman,” Batman said. “I knew you’d show your cape around here sooner or later.”
Superman set down. Already a puddle of grimy rainwater was staining his boots. Here among the gargoyles and the smell and the unending din, Batman was in his element. And Superman was never so far out of his.
“Your heart didn’t even skip one beat. I see you haven’t lost that primal instinct in your old age.” Batman wasn’t that old. But as the saying went, it wasn’t the years, it was the mileage. “That was a joke.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“I wanted to contact you before, but there was an emergency,” Superman said, his voice small and calm as medicine.
“Of course there was. I’m just surprised you didn’t have to help a little old lady across the street.”
Superman’s eyes flashed a brighter blue, almost imperceptibly. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect Batman’s privacy, but he was curious to see if there were any scars on that human face he kept bottled up. Bruce, fragile Bruce, could always have a concussion and still be working…
Dismayed, Superman shook his head. “All these years and you still keep lead in your cowl.”
“You’re not the only Kryptonian out there.”
Tell me about it. “I remember the first time we met. You didn’t keep your mask shielded then.”
Batman turned away. “And I’ve regretted it ever since.” There was a scream. “Two blocks away, Finch Street.”
Superman blurred. Was there and back again. “Done. And you don’t mean that.”
Batman said nothing.
“It’s been five years… isn’t there anything you want to say to me?”
“There’s been plenty.”
“Well?”
“Your suit…”
“Yes?”
“It’s darker. I like it.”
“Yeah, me too. I think it brings out my eyes… like they need any help!”
Batman groaned. Clark always did like to think of them as friends, like they could gossip around the water cooler or get together to play cards on Friday. And maybe they had been. But five years was a long time and there were times when Gotham could’ve used a Man of Steel. Not that he would ever say so.
He drew his PDA out of his utility belt and called up the satellite images of the meteorite hit yesterday in Kansas. He showed it to Clark.
“Nice landing,” Bruce said dryly.
Clark winced at the memory. Kara had innocently examined the controls, not knowing that Clark had configured it to be more comfortable to him after a lifetime of Earth technology, and accidentally futzed with their descent trajectory.
“Any one you can walk away from,” he returned, purposefully setting down. Just hard enough to shake the roof. Batman didn’t sway.
“I had my hackers delete all traces of it from government databases. You’re off the radar.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“That’s all you wanted to see me about? And by the way…” Clark nodded toward the tied-up thug. “You could’ve just called. Oh, that’s right. I don’t have a light with my logo on it.”
“That was Jim’s idea.”
“As if you wouldn’t geek out over it.” Then, with more concern. “I didn’t see you at the Cross-Metropolitan Ball.”
A tradition dating back to when Metropolis and Gotham had been considered sister cities. Clark hadn’t attended, of course, but he had given it a quick X-ray glance on his way to Metropolis. He had expected Bruce to find out about the crash and seek him out… why not there? It was the one black-tie affair Clark had looked forward to, knowing that at least there was someone there who could understand what he was going through. Secret identity and all.
“Even while you were here, all you did was never work up the nerve to ask Lois to dance. Now that you have an excuse for it, I have that much less reason to go. There are crimes I could be investigating.”
“You know about Richard?” Superman said tersely.
“What did you expect me to do, Clark, keep her warm for you?”
Fine. You want to play it that way… “I would’ve settled for keeping Lex Luthor in jail.”
“Believe me, I tried. He kept clean. You and his henchmen were the only three people who knew about his crimes.” Batman kept his voice in the usual cold monotone, even when he twisted the knife. Nothing personal. “You were gone and he killed them.”
”Miss Teschmacher?”
“Yes.”
“She was… a nice girl.” She had loved her mother. No one who loved their mother could be all bad. “She didn’t deserve that.”
“I’m sure the people Lex killed while she aided and abetted felt the same way.”
Superman shook his head. “What happened to you?”
“I was so young once… I had so much hope, such grand ideals… be glad you have Metropolis, Kal-El. This city isn’t fit for hope.” He stepped up onto the cornice and prepared to… not fly… fall.
There was a whoosh and Superman’s hand was on his shoulder. Batman turned. Superman pressed a wristwatch into his hand.
“It emits a signal only I can hear. If you ever need me, day or night… I’ll be around.”
“You’re always around,” Batman groused. Then clamped down hard on his lower jaw. Because Superman hadn’t been, and they both knew it.
Superman flew up, up, and away while Batman glided down to the streets. Somewhere, there was a crime being committed. Somewhere, there was a disaster to stop.
And across the street, Chloe Sullivan lowered her camera.
“Whoa. Team-up.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-07-20 02:21 pm (UTC)Just out of curiosity, how long is this?
no subject
Date: 2008-07-29 03:21 am (UTC)Really long.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-21 05:22 am (UTC)Ahaha! Well, but how else is he going to contact Superman? Loved the POVs here: the Chloe and Tim working partnership, Kory in the girlie mag, Holly and Selina. And I can't get that image of Jason against the chainlink fence out of my mind now, it suits him so well. Excellent chapter and looking forward to the teamup Chloe envisions.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-21 11:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-21 05:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-21 11:38 am (UTC)And I love bats beating up people so they'll call Supes. And the image of him lost in thought while dangling somone off a building. And All The Robins! And the angsty chemistry between Batman and Supes!
I am also a total sucker for the bird/plane/Superman gag. Every time.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-22 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-26 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-09 12:58 am (UTC)And I loved that little interaction between Superman and Batman.