Truth & Justice II #10

[Spider-Man Beyond]

The Multiverse Presents

Truth & Justice II #10

Written by JC Roberts (Calamityjamie)

Edited by Daniel Dyer (Spider-Man Beyond)

Multiverse logo created by Tony Peterson (Starfall)

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Alfred was not speaking to him, so when the butler walked into Bruce’s bedroom early the next morning and opened all of the curtains, Bruce was left blinking in a stream of glaring sunlight, wondering why he was awake. He glanced longingly at the spot on his night table where Alfred usually left a steaming cup of coffee and tried to remember where he was supposed to be.

He had not slept well. The deep satisfaction he had felt at having closed the book on Sean Fray was offset by his having impulsively opened another one by nearly making love to Martha Kent against the side of his car. The feel and taste and sounds of her followed him into a restless sleep, in part because he had refused himself the dangerous luxury of fantasizing about her, and now, as the sun began to clear his foggy head, the near visceral memory of her fingertips skimming the back of his neck caused him to bolt out of his bed.

The sudden movement cleared his head, but it also aggravated his injured shoulder. Martha had urged Bruce to let her examine it when she heard how he’d been forced to free himself, but he had balked. Her touch on his bare skin last night could only have lead to ice cream bowls being swept onto the kitchen floor and possibly a broken table. Of course, Alfred would be talking to him now.

Taking the route in which he was most likely to avoid the disgruntled butler, Bruce headed down to the cave in his pajama trousers and logged onto his planner. The day’s first entry was blinking red. Bruce winced: Monitor duty. And he was going to be late.

For the first time in almost three decades, he considered asking someone to fill in for him. The idea of sitting in front of a monitor for eight hours seemed unbearable in the wake of the events of the previous night. On the other hand, it would give him a little distance from a stewing Alfred and from… her. Bruce’s eyes wandered irresistibly to the passenger side of the Batmobile and he felt Martha’s legs tighten around his thighs. He shook his head violently, determined to dislodge the memory.

By the time he had showered, dressed and pointed his plane toward upstate New York, he felt under control again. There wasn’t any part of his life he couldn’t compartmentalize if he needed to. The tedious routine of monitor duty would offer a respite; the scheduling was a stroke of good fortune. Batman radioed ahead his ETA and apologized for being late.

“No problem,” Superman’s voice responded cheerfully. “Take your time.”

Oh, God, no. Batman looked helplessly around the cockpit of the small jet as if he might find someone there who might take the duty for him. He could turn the plane around, claim illness. He would not be pretending. His stomach was suddenly working its way up his throat.

He became instantly annoyed with himself. Clark did not know about last night and he never would: It wasn’t going to happen again. He had no reason to feel guilty, Batman told himself belligerently. He had not betrayed Superman. His relationship – his friendship – with Martha had nothing to do with her father.

Still, he was not sorry to see Roy and Midori sitting in the control room with Superman. Midori had been perched on a countertop near the primary monitor. When she saw Batman, she hopped down and beamed at him.

“Hey,” said Roy, offering his hand. “Someone had a great night last night.”

Batman’s eyes blazed into Roy’s. He did not notice the outstretched hand.

“You got the guy, right?” Roy said uncertainly. “Killer Butterfly Man?”

“It was on the news,” Midori offered. She seemed as perplexed
as Roy by Batman’s reaction.

“Yeah,” said Batman finally. “He’s at Arkham.”

Roy’s smile returned. “Bet that makes you feel good.”

Batman gave him a tight nod and strode toward the monitor station.

Superman was grinning up at him from his chair. “And I hear you gave my daughter a lot of pleasure.”

“What?” Batman managed, instinctively locking down his facial features.

“By trashing the Wal-Mart,” Superman said. “Martha thinks they’re the corporate incarnation of the Devil.”

Batman stared at him for a moment, then asked, “Anything to report?”

Superman shook his head, dropped his boots from where he had been resting them on the monitor countertop and stretched to his feet. “Nope. My night was less exciting than yours.” He nodded at the chair he’d just vacated, indicating that it was all Batman’s now.

“Sorry I was late,” Batman said dully as the League’s non-emergency telephone began to chime. He sat back in the chair and swiveled toward the screen, hoping Superman would fly away.

But in the reflection of the monitor, Batman could see Clark reach for the phone Arsenal was waving at him.

Midori said to Batman, “We called Alfred when you didn’t arrive on time. He seemed angry with you?”

As he strained to work up a response to this, he heard Superman say into the receiver, “Is everything OK? You sound –” And a few moments later, “What do you mean, you lost your car?”

Batman twisted his chair back toward Superman.

“Martha?” he mouthed at Roy, who nodded. Batman remembered how she had reacted when he had offered to pay her satellite TV bill and wondered what it would take to get Martha to accept a car from him. It would be a real car this time, he thought, not an oversized Matchbox toy.

Superman returned the phone to its cradle.

Roy asked, “Martha’s new car was stolen?”

Superman shook his head. “She left it in drive last night and it rolled into the street. She just laid out a fortune to spring it from the towing company.”

Roy grimaced and asked, “What’d she end up getting?”

“A Micro Cooper,” said Superman darkly.

“No, really,” said Roy. “What kind –”

Superman gave him a bleak look and Roy said sympathetically, “Sorry it wasn’t stolen.”

“I was supposed to go to a hockey game with her and Josh tonight,” Superman said thoughtfully, “but she just cancelled.”

“Because of the car?” Midori asked.

“I don’t know,” said Superman, frowning.

Batman spun back to the monitor. He did not want to think about what Martha might be doing with Greenberg that evening instead of attending a Blades game with her father.

—

[Spider-Man Beyond]

“I want plastic surgery,” Harvey announced.

Martha withdrew Bruce Wayne’s imaginary hand from the inside of her blouse and guiltily re-focused her attention on her petulant patient. “OK.”

“You’re not listening to me at all,” Harvey said. He attempted to glare at her, but the grotesque, chemically induced leer marring the unscarred half of his face made it impossible.

“You want plastic surgery,” Martha repeated. “I don’t blame you. I mean, your burns are kind of a badge of honor, but I wouldn’t want to look in the mirror every day and see the Joker’s schizo smile.”

Harvey leaned forward, squinted into Martha’s eyes and spoke slowly, as if he questioned her ability to comprehend his words.

“Let me remind you of a few things,” he said. “I am schizo. I’m not allowed to have mirrors. And – my burns are a badge of honor?”

“Harvey,” said Martha earnestly. “We’ve been through this before. Sal Maroni was a monster and –”

“And he turned me into one,” Harvey interrupted. At Martha’s stricken expression, he said hastily, “Sorry. Weak moment. A bad guy did this to me because I was the only member of the Justice Department he couldn’t scare into letting him walk. So I was brave. Or stupid – brave,” he added quickly as her features changed again. “Boy, you have no sense of humor. I bravely put him away and these scars are a lasting monument to the fact that I survived his last desperate act to destroy me.”

“Do you believe that?” asked Martha.

“Sometimes,” Harvey said. “Other times, I think it’s the biggest crock of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

Martha’s grin was slow and understanding, her thanks to him for being honest, and even with the stupid half-Joker smirk distorting his face, he was able to smile back.

“I’m glad you came to Arkham,” he said finally. “You belong here. Although not necessarily on staff.”

Martha tilted her head toward him and reached into her contraband refrigerator. “We’ll get you a good surgeon.”

He seemed unconvinced it would be that easy. “You think your budget-conscious boss is going to approve cosmetic surgery for an inmate?”

“Yeah,” Martha said, handing him a bottle of spring water. “Persky knows a potential lawsuit when he sees one.”

He gave her a calculating look. “Or maybe your rich boyfriend will pay for it?”

Martha’s smile shook slightly and her water bottle slipped in her hand.

Harvey blinked. He had been teasing her about Bruce’s Christmas Day visit for weeks. Each time, Martha had laughed him off, occasionally offering a ribald comment about her councilman boyfriend’s enviable prowess. Something had changed.

“Has he hurt you?” Harvey’s face hardened. “If he has, I’ll kill him.”

Martha hoped they’d made enough progress for Harvey to have meant this figuratively. “No,” she said, pretending to be surprised about the direction of the conversation. “I’m just confident Dr. Persky will greenlight your surgery. And knock off the boyfriend jokes. Bruce is a family friend.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” said Harvey. “It’s how I know I can trust you.”

—

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Josh pulled on his Blades Jersey and scrutinized his reflection. He had already decided not to paint his face with the team’s colors, but he wondered what Martha’s father would think if he sprayed his hair black and gray. Clark had already met him enough times to have formed a decent impression; Josh didn’t want to blow it by seeming like a sports fanatic, even though he kind of was one. Maybe he should call Martha, ask her.

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. He needed to head over to her apartment within the next half hour. The parking lot got crowded fast and he didn’t want to park so far in the back that Martha and her father would get cold on the walk to the stadium.

No one picked up at her apartment, but she answered her cell phone on the first ring.

“Actually, I’m… I’m downstairs,” Martha said. “I was about to buzz you to let me in.”

She sounded as desolate as he had ever heard her and with a tumbling heart, Josh realized what was about to happen. He met her at the elevator and when the twin doors opened, he wasn’t surprised to see tears spilling down her face.

—

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Roy had been standing out in the cold for three or four minutes, when Martha text messaged him.

AP coming from 3rd fl. Can’t piss him off. Hang in there.

A few minutes later, she added, On 2nd fl now. Sorry.

Apparently, the only man in the world Batman feared was an ancient butler. It would have been funny, Roy thought, if not for the fact that tender body parts were freezing. He wiggled his toes and stared at the door knob, as if he could will it to start turning.

Almost there! : )

Martha’s text arrived around the same time as Alfred, who greeted Roy warmly and apologized for the delay. As he led him to the living room, the old man asked Roy if he could take his coat.

Roy hesitated. He was pretty sure his wool coat was heavier than Alfred. When he finally turned it over, he was relieved to see the elderly butler handling the long garment without difficulty.

“Sorry,” said Bruce, once the old man had shuffled out of the room. “I just spent more than a week on his bad side and I don’t want to go back there again.” He drew up a chair for Roy at the table where he and Martha had been playing chess.

“I don’t know if I want to hug you,” Roy informed Martha, letting her do it anyway. She looked up at him, perplexed.

“You told Midori she shouldn’t have sex with me until she was 100 percent comfortable. She says she’s only at 83 percent,” he complained. “Jeez, Martha. Who’s completely comfortable the first time?”

She looked surprised. “I was.”

“Yeah, well you.” Roy ticked off on his fingers. “Sixteen, steady boyfriend, no chance of accidental pregnancy or STDs. What did you have to be afraid of?”

Martha cocked an eyebrow at him. “A broken heart?”

“Check,” said Bruce, whose eyes were boring into the hand-carved stone chessboard.

“You wish,” Martha said, moving a knight in front of her king. She looked across the board expectantly.

“Were you comfortable the first time?” Roy asked Bruce.

“Well,” said Bruce, sliding his queen diagonally toward Martha’s rook. “I was kind of concerned about how it would affect my grades.”

“Your teacher?” Roy’s voice rose an octave and Martha laughed.

“Tutor,” said Bruce. “My last female one, once Alfred found out.”

“How old were you?”

“Young,” said Bruce.

“Felony young,” added Martha. “As Alfred ferociously pointed out to the gold-digging study buddy in question.”

Roy gave her a quizzical glance, then turned back to Bruce. “You tell her everything.” He nodded sideways at Martha.

“I might as well,” said Bruce, repositioning his queen. “Or Alfred will just do it for me. Check.”

Martha moved a piece and Bruce gave the board a disbelieving look.

“You’re supposed to knock your king over when that happens,” Martha told him.

“Personally,” she added to Roy, “I think the topic of conversation swung conditions in my favor.” She stood up and slung her backpack over her shoulder. “Want me to talk to Midori again?”

“Absolutely not,” Roy said as he and Bruce got to their feet. “Where you off to?”

“Metropolis. Sunday dinner.” Martha gave him a quick hug, then turned to smile up at Bruce, whose eyes fastened soberly on hers. His hands, Roy noticed, were tucked carefully into his pockets.

“Have a good time,” Bruce said and her smile deepened. They agreed they would see each other at an unspecified “later”.

Roy settled into what had become his favorite armchair. He took a cautious sip from a mug of blistering coffee and watched Bruce out of the corner of his eye.

Bruce gazed into his own steaming cup and said nothing.

“Slept with her?” Roy asked finally.

“No!” Bruce stared into his coffee. "Almost," he added quietly.

“What happened?” Roy asked. He was not shocked by the admission, but he was a little surprised at Bruce’s willingness to make it. Roy now understood why he had been invited to dinner. Batman might be able to go it alone, but Bruce Wayne needed someone to talk to.

Without lifting his eyes from the coffee cup, Bruce mumbled that the celebration following Fray’s capture had gotten out of hand and that fortunately, he and Martha had been interrupted.

“That was fortunate,” Roy agreed wryly. “Because, otherwise you might be – what’s the word? – happy right now.”

Bruce examined the ceiling. “Yeah. I’d be going to Sunday dinner in Metropolis.

“It was an– aberration,” he added. “We’re friends.”

“So become better friends,” Roy suggested. “You two are really good together.”

“Her boyfriend would disagree with you,” Bruce said. He stared into the unlit fireplace.

Roy searched his friend’s hardened face and said slowly, “Martha broke up with Josh.”

Bruce’s head whipped toward him. “When?”

“About a week ago,” said Roy. “I’m guessing right after your ‘aberration’.”

“She didn’t tell me,” Bruce said hoarsely.

“Well,” said Roy. “She was pretty upset about having to hurt him. Lian said she spent a lot of time crying.

“It was the right thing to do,” he added. “She wasn’t in love with him.”

“She… um,” Bruce wet his lips. “She did stay away for a couple of days after… I thought maybe she was spending some extra time with him.”

“Just the opposite,” said Roy. “So if that was a concern…”

But Bruce was shaking his head. "I'm too old for her," he said.

"You might be," Roy said. "If you believe both of you are going to live to be, say, Alfred's age. Which I find highly unlikely."

“So she’s stuck with an old man or a dead one,” Bruce said. He leaned forward to set his untouched cup onto the coffee table.

"I wasn't actually talking about you," Roy replied softly.

Bruce froze, still bent over the coffee table. “Don’t say that.”

“Wow,” said Roy. “A few months ago, you were saying it.”

Bruce straightened slowly in his chair and continued to gaze vacantly into the fireplace. Neither man spoke for a while.

“Bruce,” Roy said eventually. “What makes you think she’d be happy with anyone else?” When Bruce didn’t answer, he continued, “Look at who her father is –”

“Yeah, that makes everything less complicated,” Bruce said sarcastically.

“Listen,” Roy said patiently. “Her father’s Superman. How many men are going to measure up to that? I can think of –” he glanced up at the ceiling and blew air between his lips in a soft raspberry. “–one.” He stared pointedly at Bruce.

“I don’t think Martha’s a Freudian,” Bruce said, reddening. “Never mind the ludicrous comparison.”

Roy slid his empty cup onto the coffee table. “Spare me the modesty. There’s the two of you, and then there’s everyone else.

“She understands you. You trust her. You’re attracted to her,” Roy continued. “For God’s sake, don’t throw that away.”

“I’m not throwing anything away,” Bruce said. “We’re friends.” He collected the coffee cups and placed them onto the cart Alfred had rolled in earlier. “I hope you don’t mind pasta. Alfred the Matchmaker doesn’t buy meat anymore. What?” he asked irritably as his guest snorted.

“I’m glad he’s the boss of you,” Roy replied. “That puts someone in this house on your side.”

—

[Spider-Man Beyond]

It started out a busy night: By one o’clock, Batman had busted two hold-up men, a would-be rapist and three dealers. He had enjoyed the skirmishes – they made him feel vigorous and young and kept his mind off more personal concerns. But then a fog rolled over the city, enshrouding the moon and lulling the criminal element indoors. There were only a few hours left until dawn, but they started to crawl.

Sometime before three, the troublesome thoughts Batman had been dodging caught up with him. In search of a place to clear his head, he swung by the gargoyle-bedecked Masonic temple and saw Superwoman standing on the dark side of the roof. A balloon-like stocking dangled from her left hand.

“Hey,” she said, flicking off the hologram.

“That’s not going to fit you,” he said, nodding at the stocking, which he could now see had been cut badly from a pair of queen-sized pantyhose.

She looked down at the distorted garment and smiled. “It would if I wore it on my face. I’m afraid that the guy who was using this lost it on his way to jail. I know it’s evidence,” she said hastily as Batman began to open his mouth. “I stuck it in my back pocket and forgot about it, but I’ll drop it off at the precinct before I go home.”

He fixed somber eyes on her and she responded with a questioning frown.

“I just found out why my butler's talking to me,” he said.

Martha hugged herself and walked over to the edge of the building. "I would have told you," she said. "I just didn't want you to feel responsible.”

“Am I?" he asked.

“No," said Martha firmly. "I wasn't in love with Josh. I really wanted to be," she added sadly. She shot him a meaningful look. “It would have made my life easier.”

Batman joined her at the edge. “I wish things were different.”

“I don’t think things have to be different,” Martha said. “I think your reasons are excuses.”

She was always honest with him, but rarely that blunt. He wondered if she were going to try to persuade him to reconsider.

“I'm not going to try to change your mind. I respect that you want to do the right thing,” Martha continued. “But I'm not going to pretend I agree with you.”

He felt disgust with himself for the flash of disappointment that ran through him. Why would he want her to argue with him when he knew he was committed to his decision not to become involved with her in that way? Was it ego? He should be grateful that Martha wasn’t going to give him a hard time. He was grateful. Batman took a step back from the edge and, hooking a finger in one of her belt loops, pulled her along with him.

“You cheat at chess,” he said.

Martha turned to him, arms folded over her chest, and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And exactly how do I do that?” she asked, visibly struggling with the corners of her mouth as they forced their way towards her cheekbones.

“I don’t know,” Batman said. “But we’re going to keep playing until I find out.”

She smiled at the rooftop and toed some of the loose gravel. “Wanna fight some crime?”

“If we can find some,” he said, watching her reach for the tiny box clipped to her hip.

Martha disappeared in a burst of blonde and blue and he found himself missing her immediately. The voluptuous figure and golden hair of the hologram did nothing for him. They were the opposite of Martha: artificial. But he knew he would hear her voice soon, and reassured that she was under there somewhere, Batman would have a better end to his night than he had expected.

Continued...