Tragic Ending

Batman and all related and recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC
Luder.

^V^

"I cannot think of any need in a childhood as strong as the need for a father's
protection."

Sigmund Freud

^V^

My child or not, I had to save him.

Had the base alarm gone off thirty seconds later, I would have made it into the
hangar and into one of the aircrafts with just enough time to open the bay doors
and make my exit.
Unfortunately, we had still been in Ibn's room when the blaring sirens began,
notifying everyone in the compound that something was amiss. As a result, we
barely made it through the hangar doors before thirty armed men entered from the
opposite side, taking shots at will.

After throwing the stunned boy to the ground, I pulled over a workbench to act
as cover for us before glancing about for any available resources. There were
three oxygen tanks that I could throw into the gunfire in addition to a minimal
collection of tools that could act as impromptu Batarangs. I used what I had
sparingly, being sure to aim as accurately and timely as possible to have the
greatest impact. But it wasn't long before I was down to a wrench and Phillip's
screwdriver.

As I tried to recalculate the distance from my location to the doorway, I
suddenly realized Ibn had started to cry. Caesar stood over his master's body as
if he would be able to ward off any harm. The boy was just six years old and
caught in the midst of chaos. I had never been able to comfort scared victims in
the mask but it was possible…

I sat with my back to the bench and motioned Ibn to come closer to me. He was
hesitant, no doubt put off by my violent defensive actions, but finally crawled
towards me before making his way onto my lap. I embraced the small boy and tried
to talk over the racket, "I'm going to get us out of here, I promise."

Even though he had no chance of hearing me, he nodded before burying his tear
stained face into my chest.

With bullets whizzing by, I found a far too honest clarity come over my mind. It
had been foolish to think of I would have been able to escape Ra's by myself let
alone with his single heir. The brief amount of time I had been under Ra's'
control I had been unable to remain focused, something which often proved fatal.
My analytical mind had been left behind on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, leaving
behind a void that was taken over by someone who was confused if not bewildered
by the thought that he had a son.

If he was indeed mine.

I hadn't even paused to even consider it before; the child's strong resemblance
had seemed to automatically deem him to be mine. Any other circumstance and I
would have never even thought of accepting it without a barrage of genetic
testing. Holding the trembling boy in my arms, I tried to detach myself
emotionally in order to finally acknowledge the facts.

If he was a fraud, Ra's had certainly outdone himself. The correct age and looks
right down to the ear lobes. However, it was awfully convenient for his adopted
parents to tragically die. I wouldn't put it beyond my enemy's ability to murder
two innocent people just to regain control of his heir. But why wait three years
before telling me? Was it necessary to evaluate the child to see if he truly was
the son of the father, the potential to become the twinkle in Ra's' icy eyes?
Why lie to begin with, that Talia had miscarried all those years ago? Was it to
fill me with vengeful anger in order to finally bring down Qaiyn?

Too many questions, too many uncertainties…

Ibn looked up at me, staring at me with the eyes I looked into every day in the
mirror.
"Where's Mother?" he managed in between short breaths.

"Well find her, once we're safe, we'll find her."

Lies. The second I managed to get into one of the surviving planes I was heading
as far away as possible. I once loved Talia but to allow her access to the boy,
our son or not, would only lead us straight back into the hands of her father.

And no child deserved to live under him; Talia was living proof.

The dog's ears perked suddenly and he shot a look to the door. I glanced up as
well and was shocked to hear six cyclical bangs. Earlier, when I had practically
kidnapped Ibn, I had thought the sirens had been to announce my ill actions. I
let a smirk grow on my face, knowing now that there were other troublemakers
about.

I guided Ibn over to Caesar once more but when I let go, the boy panicked and
latched back onto my arms. "I'll be right back, Caesar will protect you."

Finally, I untangled myself from him and somersaulted to the doorway. Luckily,
part of one of the planes I had blown up with an oxygen tank had offered enough
cover for me to quickly respond to Dick's message. When he said to get away from
the door in Morse, I suddenly wondered if a certain Kryptonian was going to come
barging through.

After a moment, I replied for them to wait for me to say, hoping for one last
chance to end this before any more blood was spilled.

Returning to Ibn's side once more, the gunfire slowed and I heard several loud
voices talking back and forth in Arabic.

I quickly translated their words in my head �" Ubu says he has the boy.

- Hold your fire, men!

- Hold your fire or the Demon will have your head!

A hushed silence fell over what was left of the hangar. In the quiet, Ibn's
cries were suddenly very noticeable. Several of the men that had taken position
behind the ruined aircrafts stepped forward, calling out for a ceasefire and for
me to relinquish Ibn.

He heard his name and cried louder before embracing me tighter, "I want to go
with you!"

"You will," I found myself replying.

I was just about to call back to the men when I realized I had yet to respond to
Dick. Leaving Ibn in Caesar's care once more, I rose with my hands up moving
slowly towards the door. The men trained their weapons on me but I hoped that no
one dared to pull the trigger. If harming the Demon's heir was worthy of capital
punishment, I wondered what fate they would suffer for killing me.

Or reward.

They called out again but before I could respond a tremendous sound came from
further down the wall and a puff of dust and a flash of red and blue
interrupted. The guns shifted towards Superman and opened fire, bullets bouncing
off of him left and right. As I dove to cover Ibn, I felt a flash of white hot
pain in my arm and another in my chest.

I fell to the ground mere feet from Ibn who had buried his face in the dog's
thick chest. When I called out his name, a metallic taste came to the back of my
throat and my voice failed me.

The dog had heard me and rose to his feet, still standing beside his master but
staring intently at me. He let out a low bark and took a step forward, as if
directing Ibn's attention. When the boy opened his eyes, the tears that had been
brimming suddenly overflowed, "Father!"

Without hesitation, he rose to his feet and ran to me, grabbing my arm as if his
tiny form was able to drag me to safety. Keeping my wounded arm to my torso, I
managed to crawl as he valiantly tried to help. We were nearly to the workbench
we had been hiding behind for what seemed like an eternity when I looked up at
him and smirked, "My hero."

After letting him help me sit up, I felt my chest tighten with each breath. No
doubt a pneumothorax was forming as air escaped my lungs and filled my chest
cavity. I made my breaths as slow and shallow as possible in order to conserve
oxygen. Ibn's small hands suddenly pressed hard on my chest to ebb the flow of
blood as he declared, "I'll save you, fath--."

Another ricocheting bullet caught me on the left side of my head, grazing my
temple and the top of my ear before moving on. Had Ibn been sitting on my lap as
he had been earlier, it would have cleared him by a good six inches. But he
hadn't been sitting, he had been standing.

He had been saving me.

The bullet hit him square in the sternum causing him to take a step back. One of
his hands rose to touch the red that was beginning to spill over the front of
his shirt and a confused look washed over his features. He stood for a moment
longer before letting out a rush of air from his lips as he dropped to his knees
in front of me.

Despite the fact that I could barely breath and that I was losing blood with
each beat of my heart, I bellowed, "Nooooo!!" and reached out for him just as he
collapsed. Instinct fought with gut wrenching fear as I pressed my hand firmly
on the front of his chest.

Just as he had done for me…

As he began coughing I rolled him onto his side doing my best not ignore the
volume of blood that flowed from his lips.

Lips that had smiled at me last night when he put me in check with his white
knight…

With light-headedness filling me, I laid him back down, frantically taking his
vitals with my injured arm. I leaned forward, pressing my ear to his chest,
confused to hear only ringing. I tried listening with the other ear and heard
nothing but gurgling.

"Ibn, hang on, I'll save you, son."

His blue eyes slowly moved back and forth, finally locking in on my face.

… Are you really him?

… Who?

… My father?

He coughed again and whispered something. The ringing in my ear forced me to
lean forward again. It took all of his effort to repeat himself, "My… hero."

When I sat up again, I heard coughing but noticed he wasn't moving. It took a
moment to realize it was my turn to choke on my own blood. I felt for his pulse
once more but my fingers were trembling and wouldn't keep still long enough.

His eyes were still trained on my face…

The same eyes I looked into every morning in the mirror…

My son…

After one final cough, I hunched over him, breathing what air I had left from my
lungs into his. I compressed his chest with my good hand, doing my best to keep
myself upright with the one that was wet and sticky. It gave three times, and on
the fourth, I couldn't rise again. Lying beside him, I promised I was going to
save him.

I promised we were going to get out of here.

… And Caesar? I thought I heard him ask.

And Caesar, too.

… And Mother?

Of course, your mother as well.

… My hero.

I looked at his face one last time and somehow found the ability to smile. Such
a beautiful child… and I was going to take him from this horrid place to make
life anew in Gotham. I wouldn't force him to take the guise of Robin, hell, I
wouldn't even encourage it. He deserved a normal life with move theatres and ice
cream cones and scabs on his knees from riding his bicycle too fast.

He deserved to be happy…

When I opened my eyes, the face in front of me was not a six-year-old boy with
unruly black hair and piercing blue eyes.

It was a man who had seen me grow up from being a six-year-old boy with unruly
black hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Master Bruce?"

Even if I had wanted to respond I felt the uncomfortable presence of an
intubation tube and the force fed flow of oxygen. Aside from that, I was unable
to feel much else aside from the unnatural warmth in my veins from analgesics.

"Sir, can you hear me?"

I blinked once slowly, not only to respond to him but to try and clear my
vision. My left eye was significantly blurry but after a moment the right came
into fairly clear view.

"Sir, you've been unconscious for almost a week. You've suffered fairly severe
internal injuries in your chest in addition to the bullet that grazed your
temple. Luckily the bullet that passed through your arm did very minimal tissue
damage aside from severing part of the cuboidal artery…"

I faded out before he could finish listing off my injuries.

When I woke again, the room was darkened save for a bedside lamp and the
illumination of vital monitors. Barbara was dozing in her wheelchair, an open
medical journal in her lap. Reaching up with my right hand, I touched the tube
inserted in my mouth and prepared to remove it when soft fingers touched mine,
"Don't even think it. Your teeth haven't been brushed in seven days, I am not
resuscitating you."

I slowly let my hand fall and did my best to hold her gaze. With her undivided
attention, I raised my hand again and spelt Dick's name in sign language.

"He's fine. You're actually the only one injured from this whole ordeal,
interesting considering they came to save you."

… I'll save you fath--.

My breathing hitched suddenly and I spelt Ibn's name.

"After Superman went in to pull you out of the hangar, we lost Talia. In the
heat of the moment, they focused on you instead of our captive-slash-accomplice.
By the time they realized how badly you were hurt, they had to leave as soon as
possible, so it wasn't feasible to search the compound to find her. J'onn had
been mentally interrogating Ra's during the entire operation but he was
unsuccessful in finding out who Ibn is…. And when we went back to the base,
Ra's, of course, had destroyed it--."

Interrupting her, I signed, There was a boy with me.

"What boy, Bruce?"

Struggling to sign one handed, I managed, The boy that was shot, he was lying
right next to me.

"Bruce… You were alone when Superman finally got to you. He had to physically
restrain Dick to keep him from barging in, no doubt getting himself killed in
the process. Wonder Woman almost had to tie him up with her lasso. But Superman
found you lying behind a table, unconscious and bleeding half to death. No boy."

Trying to recall everything in those final moments before I had passed out, I
heard Barbara ask, "Was this boy being held captive, is that why you stayed, to
save him?"

My hand fell to the bed once more and I didn't attempt to raise it again. In my
delirious state in the hangar, I was certain he had responded to me when we had
been lying together on the floor. Medically, there was no chance he would have
survived the wound and he must have died shortly after being shot.

But… where was the body?

Another fourteen hours passed before Alfred extubated me. Dick watched on
eagerly, no doubt prepared to question me about the last few days. Instead of
offering answers to appease his worried mind, I ignored him. Told him it was
Ra's just trying to keep me out of his way again.

Dick was not impressed but instead of pushing the matter, he said for me to get
some rest and we'd talk later.

Ordered to bed rest, I used the time to do a bit of my own investigating. I
hacked into the orphanage system in England and narrowed the search based on the
details I knew about Ibn, both his physical appearance and what little he had
told me.

Six years earlier, an orphanage just outside of Bristol, England adopted an
unnamed infant with blue eyes and black hair to Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Caine,
owners of Caine's Baked Goods. The child's file, luckily, had been backed up on
their computer in order to save space in the office, scanned haphazardly with a
fairly grainy quality that suggested poor equipment.

Although the name of the parents were left blank a brief description was listed
under "Reason for Surrender": The mother of the child has a high place in middle
eastern society and the father of the child is an American. Although her father
lawfully wed them, as her customs dictate, the falling out between the child's
father and maternal grandfather may place the child in harm's way. The mother
asks the child never be told the reason for being surrendered until he is of a
legal age. The mother also requests that the orphanage keep the child's sole
possession (see photograph on next page) safe until his adoption, where the
adopted parents must keep the item until the child is of an age where he is able
to possess it."

I slowly scanned down to the next page.

What I saw made my breath hitch. Shortly after I had wed Talia, I had given her
a necklace of golden scarabs encrusted with jewels. She had promised to think of
me whenever she wore and that she would wear it forever…

"Bruce?"

I closed the laptop and looked up as Dick walked into my bedroom. I cleared my
throat in hopes of trying to refocus my attention, "What is it?"

He looked down at me for a moment before reclining in the chair at my bedside,
"I know… you're not a traitor. Wonder Woman thinks that you've gone to the Dark
Side because you refuse to talk about what happened in Egypt."

"It doesn't matter now. What's done is done."

After a curt nod, Dick continued, "I know… but, I can't help but wonder… Why did
you stay? I mean, were you helping Ra's find this Ibn character, like you helped
him with Qaiyn? Is this guy still out there?"

I hesitated, knowing that lying to him would only further stretch our already
strained relationship.

… But Grandfather calls you the Detective, he wouldn't lie to me.

… Neither would I.

"Ibn is dead," I said, my voice stoic but my throat clenched after each word.

"But, who was he?"

He was the heir to Ra's Al Guhl's evil empire.

He was the miracle resulting for the love Talia and I once shared.

He was a boy who loved cheesecake, watching the stars and his best friend,
Caesar.

He was…

"My son."

^V^

Next: Epilogue �" Beginning of the End