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The Birthday Present	By : Kip Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 8478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 18
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"Bruce! What happened to you?" Moira was immediately concerned.
Bruce felt a wave of heat colour his already battered face. It had been a mistake to come and visit Sandy before hitting the hay. He had known it; but hadn't been able to resist. Not that he was going to look much better in the morning.
Although it IS morning, by some people's standards anyway… Those people that don’t spend all night being heroes. God, is it really nine am already? I'm about done in…
"You should see the other guy…" He offered lamely, uncomfortably aware that this was what it would have been like explaining himself to his mother. Bruce firmly shut his mind to that concept. No use longing for what you could never have.
"I thought you were going out with some old friends last night?" Moira was asking.
"I did." I was there, battling on the side of Good; but unfortunately, as usual, we were rather outnumbered. And the bastards cheated.
The nurse stared at him. "Where on earth did you go, to get yourself in that state?" She demanded.
"We dropped in to the Karate dojo." Bruce told her. Which was true enough, he had fallen through the roof of the old building at one stage.
"Met up with a few of our old sparring partners," The whole of the Injustice League, out in force and looking for trouble.
"Got in a few moves." It's a sure bet that at least two of the opposition will be visiting their dentists during the next few days. Always assuming they are able to get themselves up and around again by then…
"Only I wasn’t watching closely enough at one point." Gigantea certainly wouldn’t have been able to drop half a wall on me if I had been paying attention properly.
"And I ended up getting a few lumps." It wasn’t until I was in the shower afterwards that I managed to dig the last of them out. Damned plasterwork… infiltrates everywhere!
"So I can see, and I bet you're still going to try and convince me that you and your friends had a marvellous evening?" Moira suggested wryly.
Bruce managed a sheepish grin. "Well, it wasn’t bad… as these things go."
At least no one tried to detonate any nuclear warheads this time! Automatically he wandered over to the bed to check on Sandy.
"Bruce!"

Moira sounds excited, even for her. Oh no! I didn’t leave any evidence, did I? Caution was one of the more important commandments of the hero business, that and never immediately admitting to anyone that they'd caught you unprepared, as left to their own devices they might not have realised that by themselves…
"Mmm?" He answered, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
"Look down,” Came the whispered instruction. “You've got company."
Bruce froze in place, the breath catching in his throat, as a slightly shaky hand lifted to his face and patted the bruise at the end of his chin. It hurt; but Bruce couldn’t have cared less about the pain at that moment. Sandy was smiling hazily, and at him!
Oh … wow… he's awake!
"Welcome back, babe, if I'd known that all it would take was to get myself half beaten to death, I'd have gone out and done it sooner." Bruce joked to fill the silence, wincing as some of the more painful bruises made their disapproval felt.
Sandy's eyes widened in alarm as he took in the state of Bruce’s face.
"No, really! I'm fine." Bruce told him, already regretting his flippant choice of words. He had a sudden thought. Did Sandy know how long it had taken him to wake up? The last time they had seen each other was in the boat, when…
"It wasn’t you!" Bruce promised him, catching Sandy's hand and holding on. "I didn’t get this on the boat. You saved us both, Sandy." He gazed down at the blond, letting his feelings show far more than he normally would ever have allowed. "We're good." He promised, managing a warm smile.
More than good, if only you know who I am and what we had… But do you even know who YOU are this time?
There was a flicker of relief in the pale gaze, and confusion. Looking past Bruce, Sandy began to glance around the unfamiliar room.
"I'll ring for Dr Thompkins." Moira called, and left them alone.

"You're at the Mansion, in the next room along from your usual bedroom." Bruce kept his voice low. "You've been ill, Sandy, and we needed somewhere safe to keep you." He thought that the blond might have understood that, as the grip on his wrist relaxed slightly.
"Sandy, I've been so worried about you." Confessing his feelings while Sandy had been unconscious had become almost easy for Bruce, or as easy as anything emotional ever came… only now that the blond was awake, he found himself drying up again.
I want to tell him… I want to so much!
Sandy didn’t seem to mind. He lay there, holding onto Bruce's wrist, and quietly watching him. It was a companionable silence, and even Bruce was slightly surprised when the formidable Doctor appeared through the door.
"Hello!" Leslie smiled.
Turning to see what Bruce was reacting to, and finding someone else suddenly There, Sandy flinched, visibly startled.
"Easy," Bruce soothed. "Leslie won't do you any harm." He hoped that would turn out to be true, as Leslie could be quite abrasive when the mood took her. Although Bruce could appreciate that being hauled out of bed yet again, in the middle of the night, to stitch up the Batman, after Bruce had been caught up in yet another violent escapade, could be a bit wearing on even the most patient of souls.
"She gets a bit grumpy; but she's okay really." He whispered.

While Leslie was conferring with Moira, Bruce sat and kept Sandy company; watching his lover.
Sandy seems alert enough, if a little distracted, which is understandable, given what he's been through. Outside the open window, one of the local birds was loudly proclaiming its territory and Sandy was watching it with fascination.
Totally unconcerned by anything beyond the confines of the bed, Bruce was sure that he had never seen anything more wonderful.
"If you're ready?" Leslie came over. "I just need to run a few tests on you, Sandy? Is that okay?"
You're going to do it anyway, so why ask him? Bruce knew only too well the sort of things that the next few minutes were likely to hold.
"Master Bruce?" Alfred was at the door. "The telephone, sir? That call you have been waiting for."
Damn, then he was going to have to go. That was an important contract and Wayne Industries did not want to lose the opportunity.
"I'll take it in my study, Alfred." Bruce decided. "Back soon, Sandy."

"Just a couple more tests." Leslie was saying, in a tone that warned of rising exasperation. "Sandy, I know you're tired; but this won't take much longer. It's really important that we know what you can do."
Apparently Sandy disagreed, as he continued trying to pull away.
"Sandy dear, do co-operate with Dr Thompkins." Moira was urging.
As Bruce stepped in through the door, the tension in the air made it feel more like a battle zone than a bedroom. "Can I help?" He asked cautiously.
"Only if you can sit on him and hold him down." Leslie's usual sanguine temperament was asserting itself.
"What do you need Sandy to do?" He tried to be diplomatic.
"I've been trying to test his hearing." Leslie frowned. "Only he won't let me put the headphones anywhere near him."
"Hey, Sandy!" Bruce took up position on the other side of the bed from Leslie. "How are you doing?"
Tears started to leak from Sandy's eyes.
"Don’t cry, babe." Bruce couldn’t help but feel a wave of sympathy. Poor sod, barely woken up and already Sandy was being treated like a lab rat: Bruce's heart went out to the blond. Perching on the edge of the bed, he patted a fabric-clad shoulder. Arms instantly wrapped around his waist and Sandy buried his face in Bruce's chest, pressing tightly to him.
Nothing wrong with his reflexes, or his grip… A surge of relief flooded through Bruce: Sandy quite plainly still looked to him for comfort!

"It's okay." Bruce hugged him back. "I've got you."
"They do say never to work with children or animals…" Leslie was muttering.
"And which are we?" Bruce was moved to ask.
Leslie merely gave him a withering look. "We'll leave it for now." She decided reluctantly. "But until the other tests are completed I have no idea if his hearing is normal or not."
"He's been responding to Bruce for days." Moira said confidently, helping Leslie pack the diagnostic equipment away. "Even before he woke up properly."
"So his hearing may still be working." Leslie seemed a lot less pleased by that than Bruce had expected.
"Leslie?"
"I'm wondering why Sandy isn't talking?" Leslie admitted. "Have either of you heard him make a sound since he woke? Has he even tried to speak to you?"
"No." Bruce thought it over. "At least, not to me."
"Or to me." Moira shook her head. "Maybe his throat's sore?"
"Well." Leslie tucked the last few items into her bag. "It's early days yet. You two keep a close eye on him, and I'll be in touch once I've analysed the test results."

Bruce couldn’t be sure of it; but he thought that Sandy might have heaved a small sigh of relief as the door closed behind the departing doctor.
"Leslie's scary, isn't she?" Bruce whispered. "She's gone for now, Babe, you can relax." He soothed. To his surprise, Sandy shivered and held on, actually tightening his grip.
"Moira?" Leslie was back.
How did he know she hadn't left? I didn’t hear her …
The two women went out to speak in the corridor, leaving Bruce alone with Sandy.
After a few seconds, as the weight in his arms seemed to increase, Bruce looked down and simply had to smile.
He's asleep! Unaccustomed as he was to having people doze off on him, Bruce couldn’t help but feel a small glow of satisfaction, if Sandy felt comfortable enough with him to fall asleep in his arms, maybe things weren’t as bad as Bruce had dreaded that they might be?
Even if I do keep getting the feeling that I'm being watched at times…
Automatically, Bruce adjusted his position, carefully sliding himself on to the bed so that he could stretch out too.
Mustn't wake him! And wasn’t that a nice change from recent days?

"Aww, cute!" Kal sneaked over to the bed and peered down at Sandy. "Moira and Leslie told me the good news." He said.
"And of course half the planet knows it by now?" Waking from a very pleasant couple of hour's snooze, Bruce couldn’t bring himself to be even the slightest bit annoyed at that. After all, in his role as Clark, his over-large friend was a reporter.
"Only our own people, I’m sorry, Bruce." Kal apologised. "I should have let you tell them, shouldn’t I?"
"Forget it, Kal. I'd be up there on the roof, shouting it to the whole world, if I didn’t have my hands full," Bruce told him, still not quite believing it himself.
With a delicate yawn, Sandy woke, rubbing himself against Bruce like a cat waiting to be petted.
"Come on sleepyhead." Bruce couldn’t suppress his grin of delight. "We've got company. Look…"
"Hey there." Kal smiled. "Nice to actually meet you. I'm Kal."
Moira pattered in. "Superman! How lovely to see you!"
Kal beamed. "Moira." He went over and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"I thought you'd pop back, dear." The nurse continued.
She'll be offering him a slice of home-made apple pie next! It never ceased to amaze Bruce how otherwise-sensible people apparently went completely ga-ga over the Kryptonian.
Perhaps it's another weird power Kal has? Not that Bruce was averse to employing the 'Superman effect' for his own purposes, and had deliberately invited Kal along with him on numerous occasions for that precise reason.
I don’t think they'd be quite so fluffy with the Batman… And he wasn’t sure if he should categorise that as a positive or a negative?
Not that it would do me any good to complain about that, either way…

Early on, Bruce had decided that he wasn’t going to let anyone else, even Moira, know that he was the Batman. However, the life he led as his alter ego left him with a dilemma. With the number of heroes who turned up at the Mansion on a regular basis, and given the amount of round-the-clock care Sandy needed, sooner or later, someone on the medical team was bound to notice something, and Bruce's secret identity would be blown.
In the end, it was Kal who had come up with the solution:
"Stop concealing your financial ties to the League?" The Big Blue Boy Scout had suggested. "That would give any of us a reason to come and visit you? Most people will never know any more than they do now, and the Government already have it on record, so why bother to hide it?"
After weighing up the advantages and disadvantages, and taking the piss out of Kal in the meantime by accusing him of obsessive honesty, Bruce had to admit that the idea had merit.
He was right too… It hadn't even affected Bruce's insurance premiums, since the insurers seemed to think that the benefits of having his own tame superheroes around the place on a reasonably regular basis, should serve to offset the likelihood of less-welcome company.
Bruce was rather hoping that would be the case as well… There were quite a few people he'd rather never see turning up here…

What the? Bruce woke suddenly from increasingly unsettling dreams with the distinct impression that someone else was there in the room with him.
Not very likely; but better safe than sorry… Peering around he methodically evaluated every nook and cranny that could potentially conceal an intruder.
Nothing! Damn idiot, letting your imagination get to you like that! Even so, he lay there, tensely.
Why do I still feel that somehow someone else was here? Not that it was impossible, merely unlikely…
Unless they can be invisible? Sitting up sharply, Bruce flicked a switch on the bedroom TV remote, instantly bathing the entire room in infra-red and ultrasonic waves.
And…? The small screen on the remote stayed blank. Except for me, and a few pieces of furniture, there is absolutely nothing in this room! Just the way it's been every time you've checked!
So what was it that woke me this time?

Settling back down, Bruce closed his eyes, mentally re-evaluating the available evidence over and over for any clue he might have missed.
What am I not seeing? Assuming that there was actually anything to see… and why has it been worse today than any of the other days so far? Today he had felt as if he was almost constantly under observation.
Like I'm not alone, even when I quite obviously am? At the house, in his Gotham office, and even in the car, Bruce had consistently felt as if there were unseen eyes perpetually watching him. Here, at night, with every sensation magnified, it was enough to unnerve the intensely private man.
As if I were being … stalked… But who would stalk Bruce Wayne? Or the Batman? Especially if they knew about that? After a couple of minutes, fatigue won over unease, and Bruce drifted back into troubled sleep.

The minutes ticked past, the only other sound was the soft susurration of human breathing. Moonlight filtered in through the far window; creeping around the curtains and playing tricks with the pattern on the expensive carpet.
Above the double bed, a framed print reflected the darkened room in shades of grey and black. Impossibly, inside the thin sliver of polished glass that protected the picture, something moved.
Anyone looking at the picture at the proper angle would have immediately noticed how the separate patches of shade gradually drew together, building dark and lighter blotches until, finally, something that resembled a human face was quite visibly present within the shiny glass. However, while seeing human shapes in random patterns was a very human trait, it was less usual to have the patterns start actively looking back.
The cool grey eyes within the surface focussed, fixing on the man lying in the huge bed below. A face that was not quite a face, smiled. As Bruce turned over, mumbling quietly under his breath, the watcher tensed, and then, as the slumbering man dropped into a deeper level of sleep, the curious apparition made its move.
Abruptly the glass was empty again, nothing more than a thin slice of highly polished silicon. For the space of a single moment, the lacquered wooden panelling behind the bed held more than just a static reflection of the room. Dark and light puddled, sinking downward. A meaningful hesitation, the tiniest flicker as a dimly glowing spark jumped outward, drifting down toward the sleeper, and the panel too revealed nothing more than it ought…

"No…" Deeply asleep now, Bruce's dream-self recognised the opening few seconds of his regular nightmare; once again, he was eight years old and walking into the mouth of That alley alongside his happily conversing parents.
"No, don’t go in there!" Young Bruce tried to warn them, tried to drag his feet and hang back; but as always happened in the dream, his efforts were useless, his foreknowledge made all the more frustrating and painful by being utterly ignored.
Any second now it was going to happen … he would see it, hear it, smell it, and still there would be nothing that he could do …
Unexpectedly, a hand wrapped around his; a large hand.
"Who?" Eight-year-old Bruce stared up at the stranger: the stranger who should not be here, who could not be here …
Because we haven't met yet! And as was often the case in dreams, the face wasn’t quite right; but nevertheless, Bruce was absolutely certain of his companion… "Sandy!"
The shadowed face above him lit with a beaming smile.
"Sandy… They're…" A child again for that moment, Bruce gasped in horror as the first gunshot went off. "Noooo!"
A pair of solid arms wrapped around him, holding him.
The gun went off a second time, and a third… and again, as the thug emptied the clip into what remained of Bruce's parents.
"Not again…" Only now, Bruce wasn’t standing alone watching the murder unfold in front of his eyes. Instead, he was lifted into a comforting embrace.
Putting his own body between the young boy and the gruesome scene, the stranger silently carried young Bruce out of the alley, setting him down gently beneath a streetlamp. Tenderly touching his fingers to Bruce's mouth, he smiled and wiped away the young boy's tears, before simply fading away.
"No!" Still entangled in the dream Bruce bolted upright, weeping for his parents, hands automatically reaching for the stranger who had intervened and rescued him.
After several seconds, his muddled mind gradually registered that he was awake, and …
"Alone… "
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The Birthday Present