Who: Max and Thomas What: Thomas doesn't take the news about the "Bat" very well Where: Virginia Mason When: Fuzzy-timeline backdating to recently Warnings: Language
Max arrived at Virginia Mason early the morning after the “Bat” made his appearance. Thomas had been moved into a private room, and the Chief had extracted a promise of “just five minutes” from the hospital administrators to see if Thomas Brandon had a comment to make.
She was dressed in a thin camel sweater that went past her wrists and covered much more than her normal work clothes did. Her skirt was short and black, and finished off with equally black stockings and heels. The gloves she wore were cream and thin, and she didn’t take them off when she walked in the room. The chain on the press pass she wore clipped to her shirt jangled as the door opened and closed behind her, and the shadow of a bruise at her jaw wasn’t at all visible.
She had no idea if Thomas had heard the news yet. There hadn’t been a television in his room in the ER, she knew, being familiar with the ER in Virginia Mason. And the television, which she looked up at as soon as she walked into his current room, was turned off. “Want to make a statement, Brandon?”
Thomas broke his blank stare out the window and turned to look at his visitor with obvious relief. This hospital visit was not like the others, and because he had been shot several times and concussed too, he didn't feel his situation warranted bed rest. He still thought suspicion was directed at him, so he couldn't even work on katas or asanas except in the very early hours of the morning. The doctor and the surgeon he insisted on meeting made him nervous, because all the obvious damage to his body made them nervous, and they'd gone over patient privilege with him but he was still paranoid they were giving interviews to tabloids behind his back. He had decided he was leaving in the morning even if he had to break out like a criminal. Which he might be. "Max. News from the outside? Where's 'Manda?" He looked around behind her as if his daughter might magically appear.
Max smiled at the greeting, which was so inherently Thomas that it almost made her sag with relief. She crossed to the bed, and she didn’t answer until she’d propped her hip beside him on the crisp, white sheets. She looked at him; just that, just looked at him a minute, her fingers shaking in the gloves at the belated realization of how close they’d come to losing him again. She hadn’t thought about it until then, hadn’t let it break through the wall she’d put up to keep moving, but seeing him in the hospital bed changed all that. She leaned forward, and she cupped cheeks gone scratchy with stubble, and she kissed him, a damp, tear-marred kiss. “She’s in Aubade with Alina,” she said reassuringly, sitting back. “They beefed up security over there, and it was safer than Bathos with Luke and I gone all day. She’s fine. I called and checked on her before coming here. “It won’t stop raining,” she said, brushing at her eyes with gloved fingers. “You could have fucking died.” She paused, adding. “And all of that is off the record. They wouldn’t let me in; The Chief got me five minutes for an interview with you this morning,” she admitted.
Thomas put his arm around Max’s waist and leaned on her to sit up in the bed. “It wasn’t that close.” He turned his chin and indicated the outside of the bandaged bicep. “Not close to anything vital.” Not technically true, he could have bled out if he had hit the brachial artery, but he was in a crowd, that wasn’t... as likely. He had priorities. “Why won’t it stop raining?”
“No idea,” she said honestly. She wasn’t chasing the rain story, and she hadn’t had time to wonder about it too much. It didn’t seem to be doing any harm. “It’s helping, though. Cleared out the mobs outside the buildings. It started after the march yesterday. 100 people dressed up like masks. You had a vigil outside, I think.” She moved back after a moment, knowing she only had a few minutes and wanting to get the things said that needed saying. “The Bat went out last night. Luke took up your spot on the board yesterday. I think he had a rough time, but he managed.”
He sat upright, spine straight, and his eyes flared. “The Bat WHAT?” It was probably fully audible in the corridor.
She didn’t move from her perch on the bed, though she did pull her gloved hands back onto her lap. “Corvus. But he had help.”
“One of you let him in. Which was it, you or Luke?”
“Me. If you’re going to get pissed at someone, you can get pissed at me,” she said, hands shaking only slightly in her lap. “It worked, he was fine. Night kept him safe, and we did some training beforehand.”
Thomas’ eyes widened slightly at the mention of Nightwing, as if struck. This was a betrayal, even if he saw why it had to be done, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to be generous enough to be grateful. “Training where?” he asked, making his voice flat.
“The warehouse. To get him to manage his center of gravity, some basic fighting. Then I handed him off to Night to keep him from falling off a roof,” she explained. She had known this was going to be bad, had known it was going to be bad enough that he might kick her out for it. It was still worth it, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Orin Monarch spent the night getting drunk and making a scene on Pike Street. I wore Corbinian’s suit. Luke took care of Thomas Inc. It was my plan, and I’ll bear the responsibility for it.”
“Because you knew I’d be angry, because I had expressly forbidden anyone else from impersonating me, particularly when people have been murdering anyone with even a distant association?” he asked, sitting up on his own with the weight of a palm and looking directly at her.
“Because someone had to do it. Because you weren’t going to get killed in jail, and because this city needs that symbol.” She pointed at the window. “One hundred people showed up at that window with candles, and a full half of them were dressed as the Bat. They lit candles, and they marched for miles, and then they stood in front of City Hall for hours because of what that symbol means to them. You can’t take that away,” she said vehemently. “And because I want both of those kids to grow up with a father and a chance at a normal fucking life. A father who loves them. That’s why I did it.”
“And my wishes obviously don’t enter into this picture at all. We have this conversation a lot, Max. You’re always deciding things about my life without my input, or had you not noticed?” He was going to change all the locks, and he really would need to die for them to open next time. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he’d lock them and they’d stay locked. He’d have to decide when he was less angry, or at least had a hold on his anger.
“Because you keep making decisions that don’t include us at all, Thomas. It isn’t just you anymore,” she said, but her voice was quieter and there was less fight in it.
“It’s my life.” He was losing his temper, and he could feel it slipping. A nurse moving down the hallway paused and the motion drew Thomas’ eyes over Max’s shoulder. “Stay out of the equipment,” he said, vehemently, managing at the last second to keep his voice down. You could feel his control shaking.
She lowered her voice a little, but it picked up a little more force. “Do you want Luke out there turning himself into the police without your input? Do you want me risking my life without talking to you about it first? It goes both ways, Thomas. Either we’re all in this together, or we aren’t. And we aren’t fucking going anywhere. You can kick me out, and you can send me home, but Luke and Amanda are still part of your life. It isn’t just about you anymore.”
“I did talk to you about it. It’s you that isn’t communicating this time. In fact, it’s you that went in and stole my equipment while I was unconscious.” He was livid, and taking a hard breath through his nose, he threw the covers to one side and reached for the call button. “I am leaving, right now. Get out so we aren’t seen together.”
“You told me what you were going to do. That isn’t talking, Thomas, that’s giving orders, just like the General,” she said, her anger rising up to meet his. “Your plan was going to result in two kids without a father and a city without a hero, and you wouldn’t listen to reason.” She stood, her shoulders straightening a little when he issued his order, stung. She wasn’t going to argue about him leaving, even though she knew she should. She didn’t think it was going to do any good. “Pissed or not, it worked. Everyone is safe, and no one is waiting outside with a fucking gun.”
Thomas wasn’t interested in results. Never had he shared who he was with anyone, and now everyone he knew had decided to work together in one cohesive plan and take it away from him. “Get out.” It wasn’t a kind way to end the argument, but Thomas didn’t want to shout and didn’t trust himself to continue the conversation. Max just didn’t understand what the Bat was, and maybe she never had. It was a symbol for Thomas, too.
She wasn’t going to cry in front of him; she’d promised herself as much. “Amanda is at Aubade. You can send her back whenever you want,” she said, voice cracking dangerously. She was looking down when she said it.
“I am not sending my daughter away!” Thomas didn’t raise his voice very often, since he was taught that an excess of emotion betrayed too much weakness, but obviously he was beyond that at this point. His eyes were like steel and if he exerted any more control to keep himself still he might shatter under the pressure.
“Dammit, Thomas. This isn’t a fucking conspiracy. I just meant- I meant she’s there and not at Bathos. She can stay there if you want her to.” she said, wringing her hands and wincing at the movement, even with the gloves on.
“I’ll go to where she is,” Thomas said, trying not to make fists out of his fingers. “Where is the damn nurse?”
“I’ll get her on my way out,” she said, turning for the door. She stopped halfway. “If you turned yourself in, like you wanted, you wouldn’t be able to see either of them again,” she reminded him. Then, quieter. “You almost died.”
“Audrey would have come, sometimes. It wouldn’t be forever,” he insisted.
She had been about to walk out the door, but his words stopped her, and she spun on him. She stormed to the bed, and she stopped just shy of him and his rage. “They would have shanked you in there on day fucking one. You wouldn’t be coming out, and you wouldn’t have Audrey popping in to see you. You can’t take a baby to visit someone in jail. Luke would have been stuck with the weight of everything on his shoulders, and they both would have been left without a fucking father.” She shoved at his chest with one hand, hissing at the impact of fingers on muscle. “And I realize you don’t give a shit, but I don’t know how the fuck I would have managed to get out of bed in the morning and keep going. So, no. Audrey would not have come sometimes, because you would be DEAD. Do you fucking get that?”
He matched her volume, and it was turning into quite a scene. It would have been a better one if he could get up, but he was intelligent enough to be aware she’d have the high ground, because he didn’t have any pants. He was totally dismissive of her fears about jail. “You think I couldn’t stop anyone from killing me there just as well as here?” He pushed her hand off his chest.
She winced at the push, but it didn’t stop her from putting her hand back where it had been and shoving again, hospital bed and surgery or not. “No, because everyone you put behind bars would be after you. Everyone. And if they put you in solitary? What then? Were you planning on spending the rest of your life locked away? For what? For a symbol you were planning on destroying? FOR WHAT?” she demanded.
“For the same reason I would be doing what I’m doing now, to keep people SAFE.” His expression twisted. “You don’t understand.”
“Yes I do, Thomas. You going into jail was only going to result in a city that turned even more fucking dangerous without the Bat to protect it. This was safer. Corvus can’t die, and no one else is hurt. Why can’t you see that?!” She shoved at him one more time, this time with a sound of pure frustration. “Do we matter? Luke, Amanda, me, do we matter?”
He wasn’t going to let her shove him off the bed, so every time she made a lunge he caught her arm behind the elbow with one palm and pushed her hands to the side. It wasn’t a conscious movement. “I am TRYING to protect you, you never understand that, and you never let it happen. You are always pulling away, or accusing me of pulling away, or taking Amanda away from me at the least provocation. You encourage Luke to go through my things behind my back, you pry into my life, and you recruit other people to help you. How DARE you ask me such a thing?”
It was the statement about Amanda that made her shove back with enough force to almost lose her footing in the heels. “When have I ever taken her away from you?! Bathos? That was supposed to be for a week. I wanted to come back. REMEMBER?” she demanded. “And I don’t pry, and I-” she took a shaky breath, voice coming back even louder. “Family gets involved. Being part of a family is about looking out for each other. You’ve almost DIED twice in the past three fucking months, Thomas. And you keep trying to make decisions without thinking about what it does to anyone else. YOU AREN’T ALONE ANYMORE,” she yelled, another punch and shove to his chest landing and making the knuckles of her glove stain through from the inside out.
Thomas twisted his bad shoulder to one side to protect it and caught her wrist as it came around out of the punch, grunting from the impact but otherwise unmoved. He didn’t let go, and shook her arm in his grip as he shouted right back. “I GUESS I WOULDN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT FAMILY, WOULD I?!” He gave her another shake, and there was the sound of running feet outside, and his eyes dropped to the hand in his grip as he caught the color on her knuckles. “What’s this?” he said, in quite a different tone.
She pulled her hand back. “I told you,” she said. “I went out as Corbinian.” She left it at that, the implication that there was more than just bruised knuckles behind the statement. Her voice was quieter, though, more intense at the mention of his not knowing about family. She cupped his cheeks, and she cupped them hard, the movement fast and unexpected as the door to the room opened. “You have a fucking family, Thomas Brandon. You might not have had one growing up, but you have one now. Don’t tell me you don’t know anything about that, because you DO. You’re an amazing father,” she insisted angrily, even as the nurse at the door called for security.
“Then you should trust me,” he said, just as angry, but in a quieter tone, more aware of their audience than she was. He turned his rough chin out of her grip and pushed her away, not hard, but solid. He didn’t tell her to get out again, but his look wasn’t kind.
She tried to stay her ground, and she stepped forward after the hard look, just long enough to lean close and whisper in his ear. “Trust you to keep trying to martyr yourself?” she asked. “No. I refuse.” She would have said, more, but the guard was closing his hand on her upper arm and pulling her back. She jerked her arm free, only to have him recapture it, and she gave Thomas a look that was all hurt and tired, anger wearing away.
Thomas didn’t think it was martyrdom at all, and he didn’t think he was trying to do it over and over again, either. Martyrs were making a statement, and Thomas didn’t have anything to say. He was so angry that she had implied he did not care, after he had done so much, that her look didn’t even get past the ice. He looked at the nurse instead, willful, obvious. “I am leaving. You are discharging me right now. Get the doctor.” And, when the man in scrubs lingered, “Now.”
Even if she wanted to protest, she didn’t get a chance to. The security guard pulled her out of the room, and she shook free of him in the hall with a wince. The door to his room was open, and she glanced at it once before they insisted on escorting her out; she didn’t fight it.