The spilled milk
Tim is not sure whether he is expecting the League to come checking on Bruce.
Tim knows deep down his heart someday someone is going to show up in the doorway straight asking or talking about the Bats. It’s pure logic. Batman is not something could be easily forgot and let go. He is more than a mere human but symbol of fear, vengeance, redistribution, and the list going on. Batman is too many things to be lost even Gotham collapsed on itself. Cannot be ignored, forgotten, or let go.
Bruce must be alive somewhere. He’s just trapped, caught himself in emergencies and busy saving good men. Anything. But he must be there somewhere. Batman is not going to go down without a fight.
But he had his fight, his traitorous mind whispers, a big one, the end game, a finale.
You all were there to witness the Knight fall.
“That’s very productive.”
Leaning at the rail in Cave, Jason satirizes while taking down his mask, giving Dick a full view of his sarcastic smirk.
“Sure it gives whatever the fuck you are looking for right?”
“Jason.” Dick hisses with warning, clearly frustrated and does not want to engage.
Like that’s going to be easy. Tim thinks and goes straight to computers and pulls up all the flagged files he downloaded from the League server.
Good thing is Alfred has retired to bed early tonight and left a dish of cucumber sandwiches and a bottle of tea on the tray near the computer.
It’s a shame that Jason and Dick are too busy staring each other to notice. Not like Tim has any appetite right now. His stomach has been filled with stone heavy dread while he types on the computer, but he takes one anyway. Food always is a comfort to mind.
With Wayne Enterprise as the anonymous main donor for Justice League is not that hard to slip some bugs on their shipment. Cyborg catches a few of them but it’s the point, so he won’t look around for backdoors in-built in original League system. Hacking Bruce’s computer is a pain but with time Tim cracks it.
Apparently, there were a lot of files could lead back to Batman with multiple flag criteria Tim inputs. However, due to the messed-up system, most the files Tim pulls out don’t have a reliable timeline, which takes them back to square one: nobody really knows what happened to B after his last witness on night of Christmas Eve.
The same night Arkham was blown up and a third of it sunk into the bay and forever lost.
Jason continues taunting Dick at the background.
“How the deep undercover mission story goes for you? Hate to say, you only embrace yourself for even bringing that topic up.”
“It’s possible Jason, we need to consider it.”
“No, you need to consider it, thinking about pull your head out of your ass and accept it. Bruce is dead. Instead of six foot underground but thousands foot down the water --”
“Bruce is NOT DEAD!” Dick bursts, face red, fist clenches.
“Yes he is!”
Arms tightly holding cross his chest, Jason does not flinch, but burning with anger.
“Deal with it you dumbass! Bruce is dead, thousands foot down the water and what are you expecting? You’ve turned over every piece of rocks left on Arkham island seven times by now and found absolutely nothing. Don’t even mention how many times you dive into the bay. A deep undercover mission for League? You serious? League is like shit around Christmas and they still are right now. They couldn’t even wipe their ass clean yet and how much possible a control freak like Bruce would allow his beloved justice friends to deteriorate like this this whole time with him by their side? Yes these almighty superheroes probably have some opinions to the mess Bruce got them into but he can fix it. If these is ever one thing Bruce was good at, he got fucking shit done!”
“Stop it. Don’t talk like he is dead.” Dick clenches his teeth too hard. Tim could almost feel his pain.
Jason laughs.
“Because he is dead. Bruce is gone and you won’t admit it, because you had a very bad day or a bad week with coming Christmas and tired old man bossing you around, there you decided once in your life not listen to him. You regret it! Because it’s too late to realize you miss the chance to say one last good-bye. It hurt like hell –”
“That’s not what happened –”
“Then where were you? Where were you at that time Golden Boy?” Malice bleeding through Jason’s words, and he definitely doesn’t notice his voice right now is dangerously close to when he yelled at Bruce and questioned him where he was when himself was dying.
That’s frustration, fear, anger, bitterness, hatred, most importantly, Tim realizes, guilty and remorse. Buried too deep and twisted so bad even beyond recognition of its own master.
It’s not fair. None of these are.
They were too busy fighting and saving life caught in crossfire to realize what’s happening around them. They all split up to cover as much ground as they can. There was a stupid argument about contingency plans and true culprit for this crisis before they split up, because, that’s just what they are, stupid and stubborn. There was no one by Bruce’s side when everything literally blew up.
If he was by his side, would everything be different now, Tim wonders. But he was close to Dick when the entire Island shaking and threatening to fall apart and sunk down the water. It took Tim couple minutes to scramble out of derris and comprehend what’s actually happening.
Bruce might be right about the missing bombs were transported to Arkham and this is not some situation they could get away only with some scratches, but he was wrong about he could take care of it by himself alone.
Or he was right about everything but not tell them.
Tim couldn’t decide which way hurt the most.
Either way it must hurt Dick very deep.
Tim still remembered vividly the horror he saw on Dick’s face the moment he realized Bruce must be in the center of the explosion.
“But you know, Dick.” Suddenly, Jason takes a softer tone, eyeing showcase of Batman suits briefly before returning to Dick. “Batman doesn’t need to be gone.”
“… What this supposed to mean?” Dick must catch the eyeing too, next moment he is beyond shock. “You can’t expect me take the mantle! I am not going to replace Bruce!”
“One of us must take it! Damn it! Either you or me. There are people need Batman, Gotham needs Batman, even that goddamned League looks could use some help there. You are trained your entire life for this and now you chicken out?”
Jason turns and points Tim. “Or you want the pretender to take it? He is not tall enough to pass as a grown up and certainly end up dead on the first night patrol.”
“Nobody takes it! And we are not trained to replace Bruce! We are trained to become someone better, smarter, to protect the weak and the good, to stop the evil.” Exhausted, Dick claims. “We are not replacing anyone at any time.”
And Bruce is not dead for replacement. Tim hears Dick’s unspoken line.
“Fine. Suits you.” Jason finally backs off. He puts his mask back on and heads toward his bake. “Time is ticking. With new players in town Gotham won’t forever stay quiet. When I am taking care of that bastard, don’t get in my way.”
With load roaring of the bike, Jason is gone.
Dick stands in silent for a while and spaces out. Tim turns back to computers and resumes his analysis.
“I always thought it’s going to be you to ask me to take the mantle.” With a sign, Dick stands next to Tim in front of the screens.
It could be me, but I would rather not think about the death of Bruce like you do. Tim wonders, but not say. It hurts too much, and he has not yet given up hope. Besides, he has not seen the same urgency as Jason does to let Batman spotted back in the field.
Last year’s Christmas took out a good number of major players in Gotham underworld and who left behind were lying low for recover. Justice League also swiped out some the most dangerous criminals during their last crisis. Therefore, the vacuum of power has not yet been completely filled in Gotham when the world is kind of quiet for once in millennium. Tim won’t describe it as a healthy ecosystem, but it’s as close as it could get to Gotham when most gangs are busy recruiting and re-claims their turf and the regular Gothamites busy rebuilding the city.
“Do you think Jason is implying something when he saying we are running off time?”
“That’s Jason, he reads Shakespear as morning paper so yeah he is always implying something. It’s called metaphor.” Dick signs. “I think it’s his source got killed by our mystery newcomer today actually pissed him off.”
“The dirty cop related Penguin’s traffic ring?”
“Yeah.” Dick signs again. “Anyway, Jason is probably right about the new player in town. Even though the victims are bad cops, corrupted judges, and sociopath killers, we cannot let him keep killing people. We need to stop him rather sooner than later. Do you find anything about this guy?”
“I checked all the footage and files Barbara could pull out for us, but until now, not much. They are invisible to cameras, like ghosts. Whoever this new player is, they are good.”
There is magic and there is ghost, Tim has seen some even work with a few before. Somehow, he gets the hunch this is not the case.
Based on their M.O., Tim has not yet decided whether they are a good guy or a bad guy, but for sure this one is dangerous.
Every time Tim looks up the footage, he gets a chilling feeling he has been watched. Weird.
“Keep looking.” Dick put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed, and rest there for a while, before he quietly asks.
“Any luck with League’s files?”
Tim doesn’t want to say “no”. His silence probably is more than sufficient.
“Just.”
Inhales, exhales. Tim hears Dick whispers.
“Keep looking.”
That’s not something he is going to give up. Not so soon. Not forever.