I Moderate (i_moderate) wrote in we_archive, @ 2006-07-12 21:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | bruce wayne, death of the endless |
i_crusade The Morning Breaks Us [Tag: Death]
- vibrant green over blackness -
Burglary in progress
That is how it came across the screen during the night, which had been otherwise very quiet. Minutes later, Batman was there, beating the police, foiling the robbery. Nothing of value had been taken. Nothing that he had seen at first.
But as he threw the culprit towards the officer who broke the door down, the sound of tires on pavement -- the porch, he guessed, when he heard the chain link fence crash down -- drew his attention. There was time enough to hurl a magnetic tracker against the side of the van as it crashed through the back yard, through the neighboring back yard, and out onto the street one block over. There was also time to see the face of a child in the back window, as she was pulled down again.
The expression. He knew that expression. Recognized the would-be sound from her mouth as it made its silent 'O.'
The City never ran out of streets, or so it seemed. He drove the kidnappers forward to the places he knew he could stop them - the narrow streets on the west side, the places without alleys - until he had the van pinned. And then the decision came in the form of the girl's body, sailing out of the back of the van and landing on the side of the road. The police had not been able to follow. There was no one to take care of her. And the van was already leaving again. He pulled over, trusting that the beacon attached to the back of the van would hold and give him the chance to track them down later. For now, there were more pressing concerns.
But when he kneeled down and shoved that soft rag of platinum strings away from the girl's face, his eyes grew dim. What had they done? She was trying to move, and his hands stilled her. The grittiness of his voice grew gentle - he whispered the things meant to calm a child who didn't understand why something had happened. Perhaps he was whispering to himself. The worst of it was down against her side, a long, jagged gash of red that soaked the jumping sheep pyjamas she was wearing. A girl so small as her... There was no reason for this. There was no reason.
He worked swiftly, tearing cloth and cleaning red and refusing the thought that it didn't matter anymore, until it didn't matter anymore. A minute, he'd been at it. Maybe 75 seconds.
Tags: death of the endless, bruce wayne
From: i_amjustme Date: 07/12/2006 20:17:17
'He was a nice man,' the ghost of the girl said to Death. 'I wasn't scared of him or nothing. He LOOKS scary, but he's nice.'
Death nodded and gave the girl a gentle hug. "He is nice," she agreed. "And he's sad for you."
'He shouldn't be sad,' the child said, giggling. 'He made me not scared anymore.' She looked up at Death. 'Can I say thank you?'
Death nodded and released her. "But be quick, you have to go soon."
The little ghost took the few steps that brought her closet to the Batman, and wrapped her intangible arms around his neck. He might have felt the ghost of a kiss against his cheek, and the girl whispered, 'Don't be sad Mr. Batman.'
Then, there was the rush of wind, and the echo of beating wings, and only Death was sitting there, beside the Bat who still held the body of a child in his arms. Her hands were curled around her knees, head tilted slightly at him. Sitting, as she'd always been there, but only now for him to see.
From: i_crusade Date: 07/12/2006 20:22:54
The voice filtered into his consciousness, and he smiled grimly, but only for show for the departing one. There was nothing under it, nothing worth the gesture. There was a rustling, then, and the air fill with a coldness that was comfort tonight. Comfort, yes, but not a comfort for him.
Without turning to look at her, he said gruffly, "You don't make sense. This did not make any sense."
He busied himself by setting the cooling body down and standing. The girl's blood was on him, a reminder of his failure to her. With disgust, he turned and opened the door to the Batmobile. In the back seat there was a blanket, large enough for his purposes. When he returned to the body, his hands were slow and gentle as they wrapped the girl up.
From: i_amjustme Date: 07/12/2006 20:26:23
Death shook her head. "No. But I wasn't the one who killed her, Bruce. I, like you, was simply there for her when her life ended."
She didn't move from her position. Death didn't deal with bodies. Only the souls. What happened to the shells afterwards was for the living to decide.
"I had thought you understood that better than anyone."
From: i_crusade Date: 07/12/2006 20:32:14
Anger was productive only when channeled in a productive direction. He grit his teeth together unclenched his fists. The seconds ticked off the clock that hovered over everything, as he stared at the bundle that used to be a mother's joy. He'd go back to the house. Return her. There was little else to do but that. And then he would find who did this. He would find them.
After setting the girl in the back seat, he turned and finally looked at Death.
"I'm sorry," he said, blowing out a breath. "I am angry. But not with you." Another pause, and then he asked something he didn't need to know.
"What was her name?"
From: i_amjustme Date: 07/12/2006 20:44:18
She raised her chin to look up at him. "Would that help you, Bruce? Knowing her name? There's nothing more you can do for her. But believe me when I say you did everything you could."
From: i_crusade Date: 07/12/2006 20:56:47
The beeping on his console in the car told him without having to see it that the signal was settled in one place now. He looked back, saw that the location was exactly where they stood. It took a moment, but there it was, flung across the street. He stalked to the place where the useless bit of technology lay, swept it up, and threw it into the car, as well.
The sound of the plastic breaking was little comfort.
"You'll tell her that I'm sorry?"
No. He didn't want that. Shaking his head, he turned around again and walked back to where she sat. After a moment, he joined her. The morning was breaking across the horizon; it was nearly time for him to vanish.
"I'm not used to losing," he said, completely deflecting from the reason why he felt the anger turning everything inside him into splotches of black and red.
From: i_amjustme Date: 07/12/2006 21:07:37
Death shook her head. "There was no need. You took her fear away before the end came. She wasn't afraid."
The Endless smiled gently. "She said thank you. I'm not sure if you heard."
And then she was standing, laying a soft hand against Bruce's shoulder. "That's only because you never let go of the first one, Bruce. It doesn't get easier, but it shouldn't get harder."
From: i_crusade Date: 07/12/2006 21:33:41
There was something to that, the knowledge that the girl had gone into Death's embrace without the sheen of terror he'd seen glazing her eyes through the window of the van. There was something to that. A measure of tension eased in the lines of his shoulders. He nodded.
Speaking of his parents was not something he did easily. She knew that. Tonight, it was especially difficult, with the drying stickiness still coating the gloves he wore. But that did not make her words any less true. He still dreamed of them. Still dreamed of that night. And their death was something he would never let go of.
He gave her a wan smile.
"Nights like this..." But he didn't finish the sentence. There was no reason to say it, no reason to tell her how many times he'd wanted to see her the way the girl had seen her, no reason to tell her that nights like these - failures like these - made him wish for the embrace he knew she'd finally give him.
"It is good to see you again, old friend," he finally amended.
From: i_amjustme Date: 07/13/2006 05:03:48
Death smiled and nodded. She knew what nights like this did. "It's good to be seen by you, Bruce."
She saw him more often than he, her of course. But she did enjoy their conversations. She was a friend, everyone's oldest and dearest friend.
The hand on his shoulder moved, slid to his back, and Death gave him a hug. Not the one he secretly craved, but the embrace he needed right now. The one he would never ask for, but needed all the same. From someone who knew him, someone he trusted.
From a friend.
From: i_crusade Date: 07/13/2006 14:38:54
Her words elicited a smile, however grim. There was a strange sense of - not quite comfort - comraderie in knowing that even though he did not see her, she was there at the worst times.
When she settled her arms around him, he did not react at first. Physical affection was not something he found himself easily giving or receiving. But he knew her intent by it, and the intelligence of that embrace was what moved his arms around her waist. He did not smear blood over her - refused to let his hands touch her in any way - but he did his best.
There was something about being held by Death that made it easier to let go of the burdens one carried. Gratitude drifted into him, and though he would not speak of it, it kept him there with her for a moment or so longer than what he would have normally allowed.
And then he stepped back without a word of goodbye (what reason was there to farewell Death herself?). He didn't glance back to her when he stepped into the Batmobile and gunned the engine. He would see her again.
The streets of the City led him back to the scene of the crime, where he had one final duty to perform before returning home.