NOTE: After MUCH harassing and developing the muscles, I got off my
lazy arse and wrote this! Like… a year
later. This is a step down from the
level I had part one as, by the way.
And I was told that there should be more “brotherly love” with Dick and Tim,
sooooo, that’s what I have added!
And
yes, it IS shorter than the first part.
I completely intended it to be this way, because after 18 pages of the
first part (which I might… change…) I figured a quick and speedy conclusion
would be good.
I’m
not responsible for however little sense this makes. I worked on this for weeks, sometimes only getting one or two
sentences at a time before I hit a blank spot!
And stupid me, I never look back to see what I wrote previously… so…
maybe I AM responsible!
Legalities: Characters belong to DC comics, and
the poem at the end is property of R.M. Baird, I was just drawn to it
and HAD to use it!
Rating: PG
The Back-Up Errand Boy 2
--One Instant
By: Carmen Wayne
It’s amazing how in one INSTANT your
life can spin out of control.
“Tim…
oh God, Tim… hang on… PLEASE…”
Your life can be perfectly safe and
well, and yet you can still be effected in that ONE INSTANT.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“May
I ask your name?”
“Barbara…
Barbara Gordon.”
“Ms.
Gordon, did you see what happened down below on the street?”
“… No…
Nothing… just heard a large… thunderous sound… like lightning. But only metal lightning…”
“Well…
thank you anyway, Ms. Gordon.”
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“Was…
anyone… hurt, officer?”
Today was supposed to be FUN. Yeah, we set the kid up… pissed him off… But
my God, had I known this night would close like this…
“Jack…? The phone…
I-It’s for you…”
“Dana? You’re pale… What’s wrong?”
“I…
think you should just listen what they have to say on the phone, Jack…”
One moment we were making fun of his
rough night… the next I’m begging over his lifeless… bloody body to
please… PLEASE… oh my God… he… he could
die tonight, and… I was so horrible to him… We all were…
Doors
to the hospital main entrance slid open automatically to an older aged, gray
haired man who clutched a cane in one hand.
His blue eyes were filled with suppressed panic. A woman stood behind him, in case he needed
her, for support.
His
name was Jack Drake. His fiancé, Dana
Winters, was the one behind him.
Normally,
Jack didn’t worry for his son too much.
He was smart, mature, and God only knew what level he was in with his
martial arts… well, he had stopped taking them shortly after his mother died,
but still, the boy was in shape.
Normally,
Timothy Drake would leave for hours in the nighttime, despite curfew; he would
come back in the early hours--and still, he managed to make school count, and
well. Normally Jack would be angry for
the disappearance, but in the end would just hug his son and thank God that he
was returned to him safely…
Normally.
But
tonight, Tim wouldn’t be coming home at 10 PM.
Or midnight. Or even 3 or 4 in
the morning.
In
fact… the thought of Tim going home ever again would be bleak this night…
All
due to a drunk driver.
**
After
registering information with the hospital, Jack and Dana had to wait. The damage wasn’t comprehendible. He had a severe concussion, his ribs were
crushed, and arteries were torn from a large piece of glass ramming itself in
him, a punctured lung another result.
Beyond that…
“Doctors
fear he may slip into a coma…” Jack said softly.
Before
he and Dana sat a middle aged man with jet black hair and light blue eyes. His name was Bruce Wayne. He and Tim shared secrets no father or son
would ever bare to share. Every night,
with Bruce’s aide, Tim would leap into the face of danger, and it was because
of the secrets they shared that so often kept Tim out so late that Jack would
be furious.
“Jack… I’m… so sorry…” Bruce said quietly.
“So
am I…”
“And
what of the other drivers in the accident?”
“One
was just as innocent as Tim, but more fortunate to get out with minor cuts and
scrapes. I saw her, she’s in
hysterics. Her boyfriend took her home. But the other one was the reason there WAS
an accident.”
“Meaning…?”
“DWI.”
Bruce’s
eyes flashed with pain and he inhaled deeply.
A breath, controlled and trained.
He was trying his best to act one way even though inside he felt
another. Bruce stood slowly and looked
to Jack.
“I
have to make a call… I’ll be back in a
moment.”
He
left without waiting for an answer. The
words delaying for a moment, Jack then nodded vaguely nodded and let his eyes
leaving the floor to the door where Tim would be placed after the surgery. Dana’s hand slid onto his and gave it a
reassuring squeeze.
“It’ll
be okay, Jack…” Dana whispered. “You
need to be strong. That’s what *Timmy*
needs.” She leaned closer and kissed
his cheek before rising to her feet.
“I’ll go get you some coffee.
You just hang on.”
Jack
nodded once again, and once again it was after Dana had gone.
**
“It’s
not looking good…” Bruce said quietly, later that night.
He
was speaking into a cell phone. He was
leaning on the railing of the northern stairwell. Bruce wasn’t minding anything but the phone at this point.
“I
wouldn’t imagine it would…” came the soft reply. “You didn’t see the accident…
I did… So did Dick.”
“I
heard he pulled Tim out.”
“With
the help of a good citizen.”
“Hunh…”
“Keep
me updated?”
Bruce
nodded slowly.
“Of
course, Barbara. But only if you get
some sleep.”
“No
sleep for those in the clubhouse, remember?”
The
line went dead on the phone. Bruce
pulled the phone from his ear, switched it off and slid it into his
pocket. His eyes focused downwards and
he let a little shudder pass through his shoulders…
“You
know something… Don’t you?”
Bruce
whirled to find Dana standing there. At
first, he was disturbed that she got there without him detecting her with his
channeled senses. But soon, he let it
repair into normal shock.
“I
don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dana
watched him, silent. Then she narrowed
her eyes.
“I
know there’s something there between you and he. I’m not sure what it is, Bruce, but I know it’s there.”
“Oh?”
“And
it’s dangerous.”
“Oh.”
“Is
it?”
“No!”
“Liar.” Dana sighed. “Is this night your fault?”
“No!”
Dana
studied him. Long and hard. Then she turned on her heel and stormed
away. Bruce watched her go, thinking,
‘Now… what was THAT all about?’
**
Jack
had left the room temporarily later on that night, about an hour after Tim had
been brought into the room from surgery.
They had induced a coma to help with his healing process… a coma they
said they’d more than likely keep him in for a month or more.
The
door clicked shut as Jack went to take a breather from his agonies. After the shadow of his feet disappeared to
the right, coming from the left was another shadow. The door opened and a man entered slowly. It was Dick Grayson, wearing a black trench
coat over a black suit. He walked over
to the bedside and looked at Tim’s battered face. A breathing tube was in his mouth, taped to the roof, behind his
teeth. A heart monitor and IV were also
attached to him in various places.
Gently, he brushed Tim’s cheek frowning deeply.
“Timmy…
Tim, I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“This… This was meant to be a joke…
I didn’t think the night would end so… so wrong… please… Timmy, you need
to come out okay… “ He rubbed his hands
nervously together, watching Tim painfully.
“Tim… please…”
He
closed his eyes and held Tim’s hand gently, rubbing it with his thumb. The pain was growing to be too much. Losing his first wife was painful enough,
but his only son would kill him. Not
even Dana, he presumed, would be able to help him through it.
Amidst
his pessimistic thoughts and agonies, he didn’t even notice that Tim’s eyes
were open to little slits. He was
gaining consciousness—as much as the drugs allowed. Tim couldn’t swallow from the breathing tube, but managed to move
one finger under Jack’s hand. Jack’s
head shot up and he looked at Tim’s face.
“T…Timmy?”
he asked.
Tim’s
eyes welled with tears of pain and his soft blue eyes looked towards his
father. Jack frowned and touched his
cheek gently.
“Shh…
it’s okay son… Let me go get a doctor,
get you more painkillers—“ he said as he tried to get up, but was stopped as
Tim closed his hand on Jack’s. “Timmy?”
Tim
merely closed his eyes in response, losing consciousness once more. Jack sat back down, hurt that his own son
was hurting. But obviously Tim didn’t
want to be alone, so he obeyed.
**
Dana
continued along quickly, heading for Tim’s room, her mind moving fast as she
thought about it. ‘I’m not saying Bruce
is a bad man. But Tim is awfully
attached to him compared to his own father.
Jack may not see it, but I do. I
do believe Bruce is a positive influence, because Tim’s not a drug addict or
promiscuous… At least I HOPE he’s not
promiscuous. I’m wondering just… why…
what was he doing in that district, anyway?’
She shook her head and went to the door of Timothy’s room, slowly
opening the door… and her heart nearly broke.
Jack
sat by Tim’s side, his head bowed down.
He held Tim’s hand and his eyes were tightly shut. He had tears in his eyes as he tried to
restrain himself from completely breaking down. His mouth was moving, but the words were so soft, only Tim could
hear, probably.
“I
know you’ll be okay, Timmy… you’re a good, strong boy…” He sniffed a little and straightened,
searching his pockets slowly. He spoke
louder now, but still weak. “I… I found
this poem, Timmy. It made me think of
you and me. Damn, where is it…? Ah…”
He unfolded a piece of computer paper that he had. “It’s by R.M. Baird… didn’t you tell me
about him once? Well, it doesn’t matter…
this is called ‘A Gift To My Son’…”
Dana
covered her mouth and closed her eyes, trying not to make a sound. Silently and quickly, she backed out of the
doorway and hurried down the hall. Jack,
meanwhile, took a long moment to breathe, not even noticing her.
“My
son, this "gift" I give to you...
Though small it now may seem
I wish for you that all your life
May be but as a dream
That every step may bring you joy
And wonders to behold
That sorrows pass beyond you quick...
And never leave you cold
That you will always walk in peace...
Not ever knowing fear
That happiness will multiply
As you pass year to year
But most of all... I wish, my son
That love be all you know
And that it fills each wondrous hour
That through your life you'll know.”
He
slowly closed the paper and stuck it back into his pocket. Jack took Tim’s hand and bowed his head. His mind was spinning fast by the reality of
it all… but the mere fact that his little boy had awoken once had lessened his
pain.
“I
love you, Timmy… you have no idea how proud I am of you…”
He
kept his head bowed, as if it were too heavy to lift and look at his son… or
the single tear that slid from his eyelid and down the side of his face.
…………