Fan Fiction ❯ The Game We Play ❯ Questions ( Chapter 27 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Dark Jester 
Bruce receives visitors...
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Angst / Drama / Psychological / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 02.03.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 220 | Status: Completed
Bruce receives visitors...
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Angst / Drama / Psychological / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 02.03.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 220 | Status: Completed
Chapter 27 - Questions
Alfred fidgeted nervously in a chair, awaiting Bruce's arrival. He knew this place was a monster that ate up anyone who stepped a foot inside, but to actually be here...
The small meeting room was lit by a single bulb, and had no cover underneath it. White-washed walls and a clean, simple table left much to be desired. With a slight bit of distaste, the English butler noticed a bit of dust gathering on the surface.
Bruce was led into the room by Arkham security. He was restrained, but it was primarily for appearances sake. Apparently, the other 'patients' would get 'agitated' if he was allowed to walk around freely. Fine. He didn't care. He wasn't going to be here long anyway.
He shot Alfred a withering look as he caught sight of him, and the icy stare didn't lessen as he was seated opposite his butler and leg-cuffed to the table, which was bolted to the floor.
"Let us know when you're ready to go back, Bruce." They said. Bruce ignored them: he was too busy silently screaming at Alfred. The guards shrugged and left.
"I'm surprised you even showed up." Bruce growled at the old man as the guards retreated to their posts by the door.
Alfred felt a wave of fear roll down his spine. What if the master really HAD lost it? What if Dick was right? But what if he was wrong...?
"I'm here with rather poor news, Master Bruce." He shifted uncomfortably and tried not to be intimidated by the look. He'd never - in all his long years - felt so utterly unwanted.
"What?" Bruce grunted, rolling his eyes. "Other than the fact that I'm going to die if you and my idiot heir apparent don't get me out of here?"
He really wasn't as indignant as he seemed. He understood in a sense what had prompted their actions, but in case anyone was listening, he'd play indignant.
"Please don't be so harsh, Master Bruce. We're only concerned for your health." Alfred scooted forward slightly, trying to find a way to make the younger man understand. "Dick is concerned for you, as well. I shared with him the results of your test. Is there nothing we can do?"
"I'm allowed to be harsh, I'm officially nuts now." Bruce snapped back, leaning back to balance out the change in proximity. "It's quite liberating, people expecting the worst from you. I'm almost getting used to being watched when I use the bathroom."
He paused to let that sink in, then slowly leaned forward.
"What you can do is get me out of here." He said, suddenly calm. "I wasn't put here by the state. It's at your discretion. You put me in here, you can get me out. It's that simple."
"I... can't do that," Alfred said softly. "You aren't well, Bruce. The Joker... You must understand." He pulled his chair in more closely and laid a hand on the table. "I love you dearly, but I won't allow you to do further harm to yourself. Let us bring the medicine here. Tell me what to do, Bruce."
"There ISN'T any medicine yet, Alfred!" Bruce hissed. "That's why I need out of here, so I can develop a cure. If you'll notice, I'm not asking for the JOKER to be let out of this hellhole. Just me. You have NO idea what it's like in here, Alfred."
Alfred stood up suddenly, the look on his face sincerely upset. "I can't, Master Bruce. I can't do it."
"You CAN, Alfred." Bruce disagreed. "You just WON'T. There's a very real difference."
The older man turned and knocked on the door, waiting for an orderly to let him out. "Goodnight, Bruce. Sleep well." He hurried out into the hallway and then toward the exit, wanting to get as far from the other man as possible. He felt shamed for leaving the young master inside this dreadful place... but how could he let him out?
"Goodbye Alfred." Bruce called after him loudly. "I assume that plot next to my parents is still reserved?"
It was the last card he had to play, but if Alfred walked away from that, he wasn't sure he wanted to live anyway.
Alfred broke into sobs as he left the corridor, having very clearly heard the words Bruce had shot back.
***
"I can't believe I'm doing this," the raven-haired vigilante grumbled.
Nightwing climbed off his bike, moving easily into the Arkham grounds as though he belonged there. He'd made this trip so many times it was nearly routine by this point. Slinking toward the building, he located the cell window Bruce was said to be inhabiting. He was in there, alright...
Dick hesitated as he perched on the ledge outside the window, feeling the beating of his heart inside his chest. After taking in a deep breath, he tilted toward the opening of the window and tapped on the bars.
Bruce whirled around when he heard the sound. He hurried to the window.
He'd taught Dick well. He hadn't heard him approach. . .
No. He really couldn't take credit for Dick. Everything that man had done, he'd done himself, despite his protests.
Allowing himself no more nostalgia, he motioned his ward. . . his son. . . into the cell. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be pleasant.
Dick stayed where he was, narrowed eye slits peering in from the outside darkness. He watched Bruce move closer, sighed and then slipped in through the opening next to the wall. He grunted as he barely managed to fit, and landed quietly in a crouch.
"That was FAR too easy." Bruce muttered, making another mental note of how to fix the place once he got out. Now that Dick was here, and the initial rush of seeing him had dissipated, he remembered that Dick was the reason he was here in the first place.
Nightwing stood up slowly, his hands clenched at his sides. "I'm only here because Alfred wanted me to come." His words were sharp. He was lying; part of him wanted to see his mentor as much as Alfred wanted him to. "Why, Bruce?"
"You just said Alfred wanted you to come. That's why." Bruce said sternly, knowing full well that wasn't what Dick had been asking about.
A snarl rose behind Nightwing's lips as he turned toward the window. "I can leave if you like."
"If you leave, you won't get the answers you came for." Bruce pointed out.
"Would you give them to me even if I stayed?" Dick tensed as he looked back over his shoulder.
Bruce considered this for a moment.
"It would depend on what the questions were." He determined.
"Answer my questions, then." Nightwing turned around again, his dark hair falling down over his mask. "Why? Why now? Why him?"
"He opened my eyes to certain. . . unpleasant realities." Bruce said simply. "I couldn't tell myself that we were all that different anymore."
He sighed. "And I was lonely. I felt understood for the first time. . . ever, I suppose."
"God, Bruce... you don't have any idea how this sounds. That man isn't capable of love. He's manipulating you. You've got to realize that. Do it for our sake." Dick reached out, but stopped and withdrew. "I've tried to understand you. You wouldn't let me close enough."
"Sometimes you have to go a little bit crazy for things to make any sort of sense." Bruce said softly, more thinking out loud than anything. "You're wrong, Dick. The Joker is a walking bundle of emotion. It's his logic that's faulty. Case in point: he's fixated on me."
"It doesn't make it right. He's killed people and you were spending your patrol time busily waiting on him hand and foot." Dick couldn't help the anger and jealousy he was feeling. "He's dying, right? So you can leave him here."
Bruce's eyes turned to ice. He glared at Dick viciously. Was he actually suggesting that it was okay to let someone, anyone, just die?
"Don't do that, Bruce. Don't give me that look. Don't you dare." Dick pointed at him as he took a firm step backward. "That murdering filth of... I... I don't want to see you do this to yourself. I won't let you! Now... Alfred and I... we arranged for you to be released. But only you. Do you understand that?"
"Yes." Bruce said with a nod. His voice was even.
Nightwing turned around and climbed back up into the window, his thin form traveling back to the outside the same way he'd come. "Tomorrow. Try to clear your head. He's nothing to you after tonight."
"Dick, wait!" Bruce said, crossing the room to the window.
The younger man paused, haunched before the leap to the ground. "What?"
"I love you." Bruce said softly, almost guiltily. "Whatever happens, that will never change. I tried to tell you this the other night but I don't know if you really heard me."
Unseen by Bruce's eyes, Dick's expression changed dramatically. He blinked against sudden moisture in his eyes, and inhaled deeply. "I love you, too. That's why I have to do this. You don't have to worry about him anymore."
The windowsill was empty suddenly.
*
Alfred fidgeted nervously in a chair, awaiting Bruce's arrival. He knew this place was a monster that ate up anyone who stepped a foot inside, but to actually be here...
The small meeting room was lit by a single bulb, and had no cover underneath it. White-washed walls and a clean, simple table left much to be desired. With a slight bit of distaste, the English butler noticed a bit of dust gathering on the surface.
Bruce was led into the room by Arkham security. He was restrained, but it was primarily for appearances sake. Apparently, the other 'patients' would get 'agitated' if he was allowed to walk around freely. Fine. He didn't care. He wasn't going to be here long anyway.
He shot Alfred a withering look as he caught sight of him, and the icy stare didn't lessen as he was seated opposite his butler and leg-cuffed to the table, which was bolted to the floor.
"Let us know when you're ready to go back, Bruce." They said. Bruce ignored them: he was too busy silently screaming at Alfred. The guards shrugged and left.
"I'm surprised you even showed up." Bruce growled at the old man as the guards retreated to their posts by the door.
Alfred felt a wave of fear roll down his spine. What if the master really HAD lost it? What if Dick was right? But what if he was wrong...?
"I'm here with rather poor news, Master Bruce." He shifted uncomfortably and tried not to be intimidated by the look. He'd never - in all his long years - felt so utterly unwanted.
"What?" Bruce grunted, rolling his eyes. "Other than the fact that I'm going to die if you and my idiot heir apparent don't get me out of here?"
He really wasn't as indignant as he seemed. He understood in a sense what had prompted their actions, but in case anyone was listening, he'd play indignant.
"Please don't be so harsh, Master Bruce. We're only concerned for your health." Alfred scooted forward slightly, trying to find a way to make the younger man understand. "Dick is concerned for you, as well. I shared with him the results of your test. Is there nothing we can do?"
"I'm allowed to be harsh, I'm officially nuts now." Bruce snapped back, leaning back to balance out the change in proximity. "It's quite liberating, people expecting the worst from you. I'm almost getting used to being watched when I use the bathroom."
He paused to let that sink in, then slowly leaned forward.
"What you can do is get me out of here." He said, suddenly calm. "I wasn't put here by the state. It's at your discretion. You put me in here, you can get me out. It's that simple."
"I... can't do that," Alfred said softly. "You aren't well, Bruce. The Joker... You must understand." He pulled his chair in more closely and laid a hand on the table. "I love you dearly, but I won't allow you to do further harm to yourself. Let us bring the medicine here. Tell me what to do, Bruce."
"There ISN'T any medicine yet, Alfred!" Bruce hissed. "That's why I need out of here, so I can develop a cure. If you'll notice, I'm not asking for the JOKER to be let out of this hellhole. Just me. You have NO idea what it's like in here, Alfred."
Alfred stood up suddenly, the look on his face sincerely upset. "I can't, Master Bruce. I can't do it."
"You CAN, Alfred." Bruce disagreed. "You just WON'T. There's a very real difference."
The older man turned and knocked on the door, waiting for an orderly to let him out. "Goodnight, Bruce. Sleep well." He hurried out into the hallway and then toward the exit, wanting to get as far from the other man as possible. He felt shamed for leaving the young master inside this dreadful place... but how could he let him out?
"Goodbye Alfred." Bruce called after him loudly. "I assume that plot next to my parents is still reserved?"
It was the last card he had to play, but if Alfred walked away from that, he wasn't sure he wanted to live anyway.
Alfred broke into sobs as he left the corridor, having very clearly heard the words Bruce had shot back.
***
"I can't believe I'm doing this," the raven-haired vigilante grumbled.
Nightwing climbed off his bike, moving easily into the Arkham grounds as though he belonged there. He'd made this trip so many times it was nearly routine by this point. Slinking toward the building, he located the cell window Bruce was said to be inhabiting. He was in there, alright...
Dick hesitated as he perched on the ledge outside the window, feeling the beating of his heart inside his chest. After taking in a deep breath, he tilted toward the opening of the window and tapped on the bars.
Bruce whirled around when he heard the sound. He hurried to the window.
He'd taught Dick well. He hadn't heard him approach. . .
No. He really couldn't take credit for Dick. Everything that man had done, he'd done himself, despite his protests.
Allowing himself no more nostalgia, he motioned his ward. . . his son. . . into the cell. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be pleasant.
Dick stayed where he was, narrowed eye slits peering in from the outside darkness. He watched Bruce move closer, sighed and then slipped in through the opening next to the wall. He grunted as he barely managed to fit, and landed quietly in a crouch.
"That was FAR too easy." Bruce muttered, making another mental note of how to fix the place once he got out. Now that Dick was here, and the initial rush of seeing him had dissipated, he remembered that Dick was the reason he was here in the first place.
Nightwing stood up slowly, his hands clenched at his sides. "I'm only here because Alfred wanted me to come." His words were sharp. He was lying; part of him wanted to see his mentor as much as Alfred wanted him to. "Why, Bruce?"
"You just said Alfred wanted you to come. That's why." Bruce said sternly, knowing full well that wasn't what Dick had been asking about.
A snarl rose behind Nightwing's lips as he turned toward the window. "I can leave if you like."
"If you leave, you won't get the answers you came for." Bruce pointed out.
"Would you give them to me even if I stayed?" Dick tensed as he looked back over his shoulder.
Bruce considered this for a moment.
"It would depend on what the questions were." He determined.
"Answer my questions, then." Nightwing turned around again, his dark hair falling down over his mask. "Why? Why now? Why him?"
"He opened my eyes to certain. . . unpleasant realities." Bruce said simply. "I couldn't tell myself that we were all that different anymore."
He sighed. "And I was lonely. I felt understood for the first time. . . ever, I suppose."
"God, Bruce... you don't have any idea how this sounds. That man isn't capable of love. He's manipulating you. You've got to realize that. Do it for our sake." Dick reached out, but stopped and withdrew. "I've tried to understand you. You wouldn't let me close enough."
"Sometimes you have to go a little bit crazy for things to make any sort of sense." Bruce said softly, more thinking out loud than anything. "You're wrong, Dick. The Joker is a walking bundle of emotion. It's his logic that's faulty. Case in point: he's fixated on me."
"It doesn't make it right. He's killed people and you were spending your patrol time busily waiting on him hand and foot." Dick couldn't help the anger and jealousy he was feeling. "He's dying, right? So you can leave him here."
Bruce's eyes turned to ice. He glared at Dick viciously. Was he actually suggesting that it was okay to let someone, anyone, just die?
"Don't do that, Bruce. Don't give me that look. Don't you dare." Dick pointed at him as he took a firm step backward. "That murdering filth of... I... I don't want to see you do this to yourself. I won't let you! Now... Alfred and I... we arranged for you to be released. But only you. Do you understand that?"
"Yes." Bruce said with a nod. His voice was even.
Nightwing turned around and climbed back up into the window, his thin form traveling back to the outside the same way he'd come. "Tomorrow. Try to clear your head. He's nothing to you after tonight."
"Dick, wait!" Bruce said, crossing the room to the window.
The younger man paused, haunched before the leap to the ground. "What?"
"I love you." Bruce said softly, almost guiltily. "Whatever happens, that will never change. I tried to tell you this the other night but I don't know if you really heard me."
Unseen by Bruce's eyes, Dick's expression changed dramatically. He blinked against sudden moisture in his eyes, and inhaled deeply. "I love you, too. That's why I have to do this. You don't have to worry about him anymore."
The windowsill was empty suddenly.
*