Seren Castle Library

Enlightenment [BTVS/Galaxy Rangers]

Thu, 03 Sep 2009 03:14:28 GMT

Enlightenment

By Tracey Claybon

Crossing: BTVS/Galaxy Rangers

A/N: This is a response to the Twisting the Hellmouth challenge #4746: To boldly go...
This is crossposted at TTH, FF.net and my journals. If you want it for an archive, ask.

I saw the challenge and thought: I’ve NEVER seen this one on TTH, and it DOES fit… :)

***

Ariel had told her that she’d been found as a youngster on planet – she just hadn’t said till now *how or when*.

Ariel told her on her deathbed after Scarecrow attacked and decimated her former home on Tarkos where she’d been found, and why they hid her for so long.

She’d told of the Elders of the Council of Tarkos finding her in suspended animation, and of her complete amnesia on waking; told how she’d found a note from the new Watchers’ Council asking that her keepers keep her sleeping form safe and sound until she woke again - that she would be needed on awakening.

***

Once, Galaxy Ranger Niko had borne another name and history.

Once, she was known as Dawn Summers.

***

The Scarecrow had attacked her at first, and now, not only just because she was a threat to him, but because of who she was related to: the Slayer legend, Buffy Summers – apparently, the old animosities between Vampire [and demon] and the Slayers [and Slayer’s kin] hadn’t changed much despite the legends of Angel/Angelus and Spike in Slayer lore.

Scarecrow was a high level demon who realized the threat that even a Slayer’s kin could pose to him and he’d gone out of his way to eliminate that threat with complete prejudice.

He’d almost succeeded. Niko – was still alive. As long as that was true, he couldn’t succeed.

Now that she’d grown into her full human potential as the Key, the world – and the galaxy – were wide open.

Just like always – there would also always be demons, like the Scarecrow, to fight.

And, also, just like always, there were warriors to stand with her in the eternal battle.

Zachary Fox, Walter Hartford, 'Wild Bill' Cody, and especially, Shane Guzman.

Now that she was self-aware again, she was going to look for those who might still be alive, and remember Buffy, Faith, Giles, Xander and Cordy. It was possible Oz, Illyria, Spike and Angel might still live and still be fighting the good fight.

And this time, there would be a future with the one she cared for. She knew that beyond a doubt now. Shane would never know what hit him – but he’d never regret a day in their lives of her choosing him to share their lives together.

-Fin-

Crossing is BTVS/Galaxy Rangers [the 80s cartoon].Pairing is Dawn [Niko]/Shane Guzman.]

The characters of Dawn Summers, the Slayer and Xander Harris [BtVS] and other BTVS/ATS characters mentioned belong to Joss Whedon, and the characters of Galaxy Rangers [Niko, Shane, Walter, Zack, and ‘Wild Bill’ Cody] belong to Koch Vision. They are not mine, and are only used for the love of the characters and writing this story.

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Ordinary Heroes (sequel to Volkswagens and Porsches)

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 05:50:20 GMT

{2009 Author's Note} I wrote "Ordinary People" after learning that my longtime friend and fellow Bat-fic writer, Peggie Farmery, passed away. About the same time I also found out that a long time college friend that I was also close to died (the events happened a month apart.) After I got myself together enough, I wrote Ordinary People. I originally dedicated it to Peg, but in a lot of ways it was quietly dedicated to Mike too - I miss his quiet, good - and sensible - advice every day.

I think Mike and Peg would be happy they are so fondly remembered.

***

Ordinary Heroes

by

Tracey Claybon

--

Disclaimers: Batman and his worlds don't belong to me, they belong to Warner Bros. and DC Comics.

--

Author's Note:

This story is dedicated to Peggie Farmery, my friend and fellow Bat-fiction writer, who left us in February 2003.

The character in the story is named for her. I hope she would have enjoyed the story - and liked her namesake.

This does take place in my Trinity universe, and is partly in comic canon, partly in BTAS/BB canon.

Peggie liked my Trinity stories, and also liked my story, Volkswagens and Porsches. I originally met her because of that story; Ordinary Heroes is a sequel to V and P as well, written in honor of a friend I'm going to miss terribly.

I just couldn't get the words out, till now.

-------

May 1st, 2003

I saw something today that totally redefined my ideas of "courage" - courage of the common man, that is. I was with Selina yesterday afternoon at a charity fundraiser for one of Barbara Gordon's disabled-awareness focus groups, the Kane Memorial Hospital Survivors' group. Right as the charity auction was concluding, Two-Face broke into the proceedings - two pairs of custom-made Tony Lama cowboy boots were on the auction block that day and he had come to "acquire" them, and the cash from the auction.

Selina and I were getting ready to fade into the crowd to find a secure place to put on our union suits when the most extraordinary thing happened.

A young woman in her twenties - introduced to me later as Maggie Farmer - from Barbara's group stepped in harm's way when Two-Face turned to leave, and calmly informed him that he was *not* leaving with his ill-gotten prizes.

Harvey looked absolutely floored that the person stopping him wasn't Batman, or Robin, or Nightwing - or someone else of the superhero community - for about 15 seconds. He recovered quickly however - he pulled his scarred gold coin out of his pocket and flipped it high into the air.

It came up bad heads.

Harvey brought his gun up to shoot the girl.

She continued to look at Harvey with an absolute calmness that froze him in his tracks. As a measure of how shaken the stare made him, he demanded to know why she was staring at him that way.

She told him that it really didn't matter if he shot her. She had just found out that she was in the advanced stages of leukemia and had about six weeks left to live any way - killing her now would be a mercy. "In the meantime," she said, "you can return that prize and the money back where you found it. Right now."

Barbara and her group was now looking at the girl with shock and sadness on their faces - I realized right then that she hadn't told her friends this news.

Harvey stood in a staring match with the girl, and amazingly, his eyes dropped first. He bowed his head for a moment, then looked up.

I was amazed to see a look of remorse - and sanity - in his eyes.

"We'll leave. Quietly. We are ... sorry to have disturbed all of you - we didn't realize this wasn't just another high society event.

"We won't be bothering you again - and we'll make sure none of our -- colleagues -- does either. We don't need to flip a coin on that decision.

"We can't make up for the damage we did, but please accept our apology for disrupting things -and this as a donation for the event. "

Harvey reached into a pocket and pulled out two gold double-headed eagle coins that were similar to the scarred one he flipped earlier - but they were unscarred. He gave them to the girl, then called his men and left the building.

The girl was then surrounded - after the shock wore off - by Barbara and her friends in the Survivor's Group. They were obviously happy that Harvey hadn't killed her - I got closer as I heard her respond to someone who asked if she was bluffing.

"No, I'm afraid I told him the truth. The doctor said I didn't have to go to the hospital until I was unable to care for myself any more, and that I could come to the event as long as I was careful not to tire myself out. I'd planned to tell all of you at the next meeting, I'm just sorry to break it to you this way," Maggie said.

Selina, who had also moved into earshot with me and heard the last remark from Maggie, mirrored my surprise and shock that the statement was true, and quiet admiration that Maggie had rare courage and strength beyond the norm.

Neither of us came to this conclusion because she stood up to Two-Face and won - it was because she was going on with a life that was going to end way too soon - and doing so with a smile on her face and a kind word on her lips. We asked Barbara to introduce us to Maggie and spoke with her for some time, getting to know this remarkable young woman. Her sense of humor and her friendly charm won us both over, and speaking with her dispelled the last of the Bat's rage within - as Selina and I talked with her, the tension caused by Two-Face's aborted robbery dissipated.

Some time later, after her friends were reassured that she was okay, the auction continued, with the new coins donated by Harvey on the block with the rest.

I got into a three-way bidding war with Selina (which should not have surprised me as much as it did) and Honoria Van Zandt over the coins; I won, with a bid of 2.3 million dollars - and then. later, I gave the coins back to the group for display at the new facility they were planning to build because the auction had been such a success.

For once, the Batman wasn't needed to take down a criminal. There were no guns fired, no elaborate weapons or drawn-out fight - the only weapons that defeated one of the most formidable members of Gotham's most notorious Rogues' Gallery weren't fists, but calmness, a strong will, and courage.

-----

May 8, 2003

Selina tells me that Harvey has been inquiring about the girl who stood up to him during the aborted robbery at the Kane Memorial Hospital Survivors' Group fund raiser, and let me know that she told him that she knew of the girl. She then promised Harvey she'd keep him informed of her condition.

Harvey found out about the hospice where Maggie would be when the end came, and shortly after that, an anonymous donation in Maggie's name was given to the Rucka Memorial Hospice to cover her expenses. The only clue as to who donated the money was a unmarked double-eagle double headed coin.

Also, crime in the areas within a 10-block radius of the hospice and hospitals dropped to an all-time low - there weren't even any *shoplifting* incidences in that area after Harvey's promise, and the major Gotham Rogues' Gallery avoided the area like a vampire avoids sunlight. To say that I was amazed by that is an understatement.

-----

June 21, 2003

Barbara let me know that Maggie Farmer died peacefully in her sleep early this morning. She also passed the word on to Selina, who promised to get the word to Harvey. Maggie's family lived in Vancouver, BC, Canada, so Barbara coordinated with them to make the funeral arrangements as one of Maggie's closer local friends. I arranged with Alfred to foot the bill for the cremation and an arrangement of flowers. Maggie had asked that part of her ashes be scattered here in Gotham and the rest in her family home of Vancouver. The wake was to be held on the 28th.

-----

June 28, 2003

Maggie's wake and remembrance ceremony was held at 2p today. She'd asked Barbara to read an letter she'd written before the remembrance ceremony began. In it she asked that her remembrance ceremony and wake not be sad or morose affairs - she wanted to be remembered with joy, not sadness. She also thanked all of her friends for standing by her both during her final illness and before, as part of the Kane Memorial Hospital Survivors' Group.

After Maggie's ashes were scattered, her friends placed individual flowers of her favorite kind around the small plate that would serve as a sort of headstone for her in Gotham's Remembrance Row,

The pile of pink and white roses, cream colored lilies, white and blue irises and multi-colored peonies grew to three feet high and 5 feet around before all who came to pay her tribute finished placing their blossoms.

As I was turning with Selina to the car, I noticed a lone male figure in a black suit standing some distance away observing the people as they were leaving the remembrance ceremony. He held something cream-colored in his left hand, and the sun glinted goldenly off something in his right hand.

I told Selina. She and I had Alfred stop the car a short, unobservable distance from Maggie's gravesite; we changed clothes, and Batman and Catwoman made their quiet way back to Maggie's grave stone.

Harvey stood at the foot of the marbled, flat stone, and tears were running down both sides of his ravaged face.

He knelt to place the lily of the valley he'd brought on the pile of flowers first.

Then he said, "We admired your courage, and if circumstances had been different, we'd have been ...honored to call you a friend. Rest peacefully, Maggie. May you be happy and content in the place where no shadow lies, and no pain reaches.

"In honor of you, and your courage - the area around Kane Memorial Hospital and Finger Memorial Hospice will stay crime-free as long as we live and we're around to see to it. We hope this will help you to be even more at peace."

Harvey then placed a brightly-shining double-headed double eagle coin on the marble stone and turned and walked away back toward the place he'd been standing before, watching the remembrance ceremony.

Selina and I looked at each other in wonder for a while, then we too left the grave stone and returned to the car and Alfred, then home.

-----

June 21st, 2038

Terry McGinnis walked into Wayne Manor, and found a message on the vidscreen - Bruce had gone into Old Gotham because he had a private piece of business to take care of; he'd left Ace in the Batcave.

Terry suited up, then went to the location Bruce had mentioned to check on the old man.

He found him at an old cemetery and cremations remembrance park called Remembrance Row; when Terry had gone with him to place roses at the location where his parents died, he'd always taken white roses.

This time, the old man was carrying an armful of irises, pink and red and yellow roses, cream-colored lilies and a rainbow of peonies, and he was standing in front of a different grave stone.

Bruce carefully scattered the flowers around the stone, one by one, saving a lily of the valley for last, which he held. Terry, deeply curious now, turned up the volume on the headphones on the suit.

Just in time to hear in Bruce's gravelly voice: "I know you're over there, McGinnis. Quit lurking in the shadows and join me. I don't mind - for once - telling you why I'm here, but let me finish what I'm doing. Just listen - QUIETLY - while I do. I'll explain afterward."

Terry jumped a bit at that, but quickly joined Wayne.

The old man looked at him for a moment, almost expressionless; then he turned back to the grave stone.

"Hello again, Maggie. It's been a really long time since I last came here." I came because I'm saying goodbye for someone - he asked me to. You probably know this better than anyone - Harvey Dent died today, and I know that he never missed placing a lily of the valley at the foot of this stone on the anniversary of your death, every year since you left us, till now.

"You probably also know that he kept the promise he made to you here - no matter what other crimes he committed, he kept the area around the old Kane Memorial Hospital and Finger Memorial Hospice crime-free - he even got the *Joker* to agree to stay away from the area, which was no mean feat, and he came back to your grave stone every year to leave you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"He asked me - when he knew he was dying a few months ago - that if he died before he could come out to see you this year, that I would do this in his place. I've kept my promise to him, and I'll make sure you have flowers every year - just like Harvey did.

"I also came to bring the two coins that Harvey donated to help out the Kane Memorial Hospital Survivors' Group so long ago with that auction - they named the facility after you, to commemorate you and that memorable day.

Bruce placed the coins on the grave stone.

" You might like to know that the original building might be gone, but the work they do continues, and the avalanche that started from that pebble changed the way the disabled were perceived, and the money raised that night formed the seed for the funding that financed the cure for any number of crippling and deadly diseases and curing of physical ailments that weren't caused by diseases - the first one cured due to this funding was the form of leukemia that killed you.

"So much good came of one act of courage, so long ago. Someone told me that as long as someone is still alive who remembers a person that has died, then that person will be around in their memory for a lifetime.

"I'm now going to tell my successor and protege about you and the action you took that started all of this, and that way, you'll be remembered for a long time more. I made a name as Batman, and stood with a pantheon of god-like heroes in my time.

"But it's people like you - the ordinary heroes of the world - that are why I'll never give up hope for our world - or for humanity."

And with that, Bruce placed the lily of the valley exactly where Harvey placed his so many years ago on the grave stone. He stood there a moment more, remembering that day so long ago, then he turned to Terry.

Bruce walked away and Terry followed. As they drove back to Wayne Manor, Bruce described the single act that redefined how he viewed courage.

And later in life, Terry McGinnis told his successor to Batman's legacy...

And his successor passed the story on, and so forth and so on; the story became part of the Batman's legend and legacy, a legacy left by an individual who never wore a costume - but was a hero of the greatest magnitude just the same.

----

And so the story was passed down through the years and ages, and Maggie Farmer lived on, both in the good she left behind, and the hearts and souls of those who remembered her story and the courage behind it.

FINIS

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Post-Triptych story: Gemini Dreams

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 05:33:32 GMT

{2009 Author's Note} I had originally planned for Triptych to be a complete stand-alone story set, but the last story had plot bunnies in the garden eating the carrots, so to speak. Two-Face just took over and wouldn't let my muse go. This was the result.

Gemini Dreams

By

Tracey Claybon

This is kind of a POV companion and semi-sequel to Coin Toss, one of my Triptych stories. In CT, I sort of filled in a blank that had been bothering me ever since I read the two parts of NML that gave me the idea to write that one, as disturbing as it was. You *have* to read/have read Coin Toss to understand this POV.

I had planned to complete one of the other overdue stories I have in WIP status right now, - but Harvey Dent/Two-Face had other ideas.

If the phrasing gets confusing as to who's perspective you're in at any particular moment - Harvey is "he" or "his" (main personality); Two-Face (alternate persona) is "it" or "its" and when the two are integrated or working together, I refer to the combined Harvey Dent as "they."

Any mix-ups in POV are my own, Harvey had nothing to do with it. ::smiles::

Disclaimer: I'm borrowing Harvey Dent, Renee Montoya, Batman and the other denizens of the world of the Bat for a little while and will return them to their places in the DC Universe when I'm done.

On with the story. . .

~ ~ ~

Christmas Eve, almost one year after the Cataclysm.

Harvey Dent sat on the bunk in the city jail of the recently - revived Gotham City, lost in his own thoughts. The police officers who came to check to make sure he was still there each hour on the hour had been surprised to notice that he was so very quiet, especially compared to the antics of some of the other criminals interred in the row of cells nearby- awaiting transport to Arkham Asylum or to the Slab.

Even Gotham's most feared criminal, the Joker, was in high holiday spirits in his own fashion. After recovering from what had been a very serious illness in the past year and getting over the shock of being struck by Jim Gordon right after the clown shot Gordon's wife right when the NML ended, the Joker was back up to his usual manic and demented antics. Since it was Christmas Eve, he was singing a really insulting version of "Jingle Bells" that included the Bat and Bird-Boy in the lyrics - off-key; he'd been singing that horrible song, plus listening to a tape he'd been allowed to keep that had been a present from his pet obsessed stalker Harley Quinn that included songs about someone's grandma having been hit and run by Santa and a really twisted version of "the Twelve Days of Christmas" that listed in detail the annoyances that come with holiday shopping.

Harvey, however, was so deep in thought that this event - which he normally found extremely annoying - didn't register with EITHER personality.

One thought was echoing in Harvey's head.

*She* didn't come to us. What did we do wrong?

On the Two-Face side of his personality, the pain that the Harvey personality felt was felt even more strongly - and was complicated by feelings of guilt and shame - because it knew WHY she didn't come. Two-Face knew he was at fault for Harvey's agony - and he also knew that understanding of why *she* was not with them now, and had not come to see them after delivering them to the prison facility could completely destroy Harvey. Although the Two-Face personality sometimes thought that Harvey was a weakling and a wimp, it would not act to destroy Harvey, and even thought of the Harvey personality like a little brother that it would walk through fire to protect.

But, like Harvey, the main personality, it wanted Renee Montoya to smile at it, look at it with love in her eyes, see Harvey/Two-Face the way a woman views *her* man, with love and passion in her eyes.

And it knew exactly why she wouldn't come - and that it, not the Harvey personality - deserved the agony Harvey was feeling.

It had acted on its darker impulses thinking that if it treated *her* like an object to quench the growing lust it felt, the creeping feeling that made it . . . soft would make it not desire her as much as it did. Every time it came to her in the cell it realized that what it was doing to her would make *her* eventually hate them both - not just the Two-Face personality for hurting her and taking her against her will; it knew its actions were wrong.

And then the trial came and the Harvey side actually fought it with logic about Gordon's crimes - and won.

And in a blinding flash, the reality of all it had done recently - especially to her - came crashing down.

They had seen her once, about a week ago, since the abortive trial; she didn't realize that they were there in the area where they had kept her. She had come to the cells where she had been kept during the trial, which was where they kept them now - the Two-Face personality was not sure why she had come - she did not look like her usual poised, coolly confident self and it realized that *it* was to blame for the loss of that confidence and felt the blow in what passed for a heart in it like a hammer. As it retreated in shame for its action, the Harvey personality came to the front - and realized she was there.

Harvey was aware of a fleeting sense of shame, but he was not sure why - the Two-Face personality usually felt nothing but rage or cold fury, and he also caught the scrap ends of it's thoughts - but not enough information came through for him to understand why; he decided to let Renee know he was here, and to wish her happy holidays.

When Renee realized that it was *them* there - she went extremely pale under her beautiful mocha-colored skin and started to shake just a bit under Harvey's eye. Harvey found himself suddenly enraged at the person who could make *her* look like that, and decided to ask her who it was so that he could see if he could make it right the best way he knew how - and he felt he could do it without the coin's decision as well - but she blanched still more and would not tell him. Shortly after that, she practically ran away from the room - but she had kept her promise to Two-Face not to tell Harvey; instead of what passed for happiness in it, the Two-Face personality only felt strangely hollow. It had gotten what it had wanted, but it paid a Pyrrhic price for its victory.

It dreamed separately from Harvey and its dreams, which had been about duality and the number 2 for so long, changed over the course of the next year. Two-Face heard crying in its dreams now. *Renee's crying,* night after night - especially the broken weeping after that first night in the cell during its imprisonment of her and her family near the end of the NML. Its dreams were very troubled and the disturbance was spreading to the Harvey personality's own dreams.

After months of nightmares, it had decided to go ahead and escape, and then to see if it could talk to her, apologize for everything that had been done and make it right. It couldn't change what had happened - but it could try to make amends.

It got its opportunity the summer of that year. They made their way to Renee's little brownstone in Mayfair, keeping out of sight; it had arranged for the flowers, without a signature, hoping that a note from *Harvey* might get some resolution to the good for Harvey's suit with her.

It noticed when she opened the card - and then her reaction to the card.

The Two-Face personality felt at that moment the closest thing to despair that it had ever felt. It had felt unending rage, lust, and myriad other violent emotions, many times, and more - for the first time, it felt . . . helpless and did not know how to go on or what to do next.

So, it decided that the best thing that it could - and by extension, Harvey Dent could - do was to leave her alone. In peace. And do its best to make sure that she received no more harm because of its actions a year ago, done on impulse.

After that resolution, it made a point of knowing where she was and what duties she was doing when it planned a raid. It also carried a police scanner that was kept in a location under an assumed name that was dedicated to knowing where she would be - so that when she was called to investigate, it would just withdraw from the field.

It made a point of waiting until she was called to the scene of one of their crimes - then looking her right in the eye and withdrawing from the scene of the crime right after it saw her.

Finally, on Christmas Day, it sent one more present to her.

The gift contained three items: a broken set of handcuffs, gilded in gold, a locket of Renee's that Harvey had kept, secretly, from the items from her bedroom he had placed in the jail cell a year or so prior, to remember her by; and an unscarred double headed coin similar to the one she had caught and kept to keep the Bat and himself from fighting.

The note included read: "I'm sorry.

"You're free from us now, and maybe - one day - you might forgive us."

~ ~ ~

Renee received the last package, half afraid of what she would find there - the note didn't take away the pain of that time and could never give back what had been lost to her - but the apology meant that it was the beginning of the long road back to healing for her. Her face, tense with stress and a little fear, slowly relaxed to serene as she read the note.

~ ~ ~

The Two-Face personality watched her reaction, hidden from Renee's sight, not daring to show their face to her. At the slight calming of the look on her face after reading the note, it knew that although there was no real excuse - or forgiveness - for its actions, the apology could rebuild what it had taken from Renee - and at least in this respect, her life could begin to rebuild, much as the Gotham that they each knew so well and loved was now rebuilding, a year after the Cataclysm and the NML.

It turned to walk away from the scene it watched - and stopped at the sight of the tall dark form of the Bat. But, instead of the usual rage it normally felt on sight for the Bat, it reacted differently this time.

Batman, expecting a fight with Two-Face, was surprised to note an expression of grief and remorse - and most of all, world-weariness - on Harvey Dent's face - he was even more surprised when what was clearly the Two-Face personality looked at him and said "Not tonight, Bats. Tomorrow, we'd probably fight - but not tonight. It's Christmas. For once, let it lie and leave us alone. For what it's worth, truce - and Merry Christmas."

With that, Two-Face knelt to the ground and gently put down one of his famous scratched double-headed silver coins down on the ground (he had turned it to each side to show Batman that it was one of the coins) - then Two-Face turned his back on Batman and walked away. The Batman stood in silence for a moment. After Batman realized that Two-Face *really* meant it this time, he walked over to the coin lying on the ground and took a closer look.

Two-Face had placed the coin on the snow good-heads up.

Batman realized that he really *did* mean it tonight; after having noticed that the police scanner was quiet tonight otherwise, he decided to take Two- Face at his word and went home himself.

A truce, that night, indeed.

~ ~ ~

That night, both Harvey and Two-Face dreamed of her.

Harvey dreamed of her as he had for some time, pleasantly, as he usually did.

But, for the first time, the Two-Face personality dreamed of Renee, with a smile on her beautiful face.

And Two-Face smiled in his sleep.

-fin-

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Witchblade: Payback

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 05:27:30 GMT

{2009 note} Payback is a direct sequel for RAK - if I gave this pair of stories a series name it'd be something like "Simple Gifts."

Payback

By

Tracey Claybon

-~-

All the usual disclaimers apply. I don't own Sara, Irons, or Ian. Top Cow, Image and TNT do.

For Renee, who asked the question: "Okay, what happened next?" :-) ; to Taueret, and so many others. . . Thanks for the compliments on my writing.

This follows up _Random Acts of Kindness_. Purely TV continuity.

The books I list in the story are all real and I highly recommend them. No copyright infringement is meant there, either. . .

-~-
* incidates a thought

-~-

Months - and a LOT of events - had passed since Ian had done his little "random act of kindness" for Sara. It was December 21, a week before Christmas, on the day older religions called Yule.

After the "time rewind", Sara didn't remember EVERYTHING that happened, but she remembered bits and pieces of the events before the rewind.

One of the biggest chunks of memory remaining involved Irons' henchman (and resident stalker) Ian Nottingham doing a really nice thing for Sara after a really bad day (though Sara couldn't recall the details of what made it such a bad day.) Sara recalled a wonderful meal, a wonderfully hot bath, and a couple of really sinful desserts; if it hadn't been such a creepy thing that Nottingham had gotten THAT much access to her apartment (and she had major holes in her memory about why she was so creeped out about that too), she would have been touched to the core - how many guys, anywhere on Planet Earth, would have been _that_ considerate of a lady in their life?

Sara had also noticed the same kind of deja-vu look in Nottingham's eyes, as if chunks of HIS memory were chopped up and rearranged and things and events that hadn't happened in his and in Sara's lives were common memory to him as well.

It was all very confusing to her, but she felt that she owed Nottingham a kindness or two.

She had noticed once when Nottingham tailed her into a shopping mall that he actually stopped to look at a toy store, smiling like a little kid, at the old-fashioned Christmas toy display. This year, cowboys-and-indians play sets, toy trains, simple dolls, Tinkertoys, Legos, and old fashioned board games were the "it" toy to have this year, along with the usual game systems and games. Nottingham actually failed to notice her watching him, then moving up close - because he was staring longingly at a beautiful replica of the Orient Express train on a really elaborate track. She actually managed to walk away again and look like she was studying the lingerie at Victoria's Secret just in time for Nottingham to shake himself and return to stalker of the year mode...

So, one day when she KNEW Nottingham was attending business with Irons (and with the gleeful help of the Witchblade), Sara went back to the toy store. She picked up and purchased the Orient Express train set and track, and also picked up a couple of really complicated Lego sets at the toy store.

After she left the toy store, a beautifully hand tooled charcoal gray cowboy hat with an elaborate Celtic knotwork pattern around the crown and edges caught her eye. She bought it for Ian, along with a matching belt in the same pattern. A beautiful hand knit angora and lamb's wool fisherman's sweater in a speckled, natural dark charcoal gray caught her eye next, and Sara figured that it was close enough to black where Nottingham might actually wear it - so she bought it, too. . . last, Sara stopped in a bookstore and picked up a variety of books she thought he might enjoy , with his interest in things arcane and Arthurian - all the Tolkien books, all of the Harry Potter books, the entire set of 35 books by Mercedes Lackey, the Deed of Paksenarrion series by Elizabeth Moon and the entire Robert Jordan Wheel of Time series. She figured that the Deed of Paksenarrion series alone would keep him at home and away from her window for at least a month. It'd kept her wrapped up in the story during every waking spare moment for a month and a half - half the officers at the precinct were teasing her that maybe she needed to become a librarian if she loved to read that much.

She had all of the presents wrapped beautifully, and managed to sneak them into his apartment about half an hour before he came back from his business with Irons. After her Secret Santa excursion, she went back to her apartment, and waited, cellphone nearby, eating popcorn and sipping some of the cocoa she'd found that Nottingham had brought in with the other surprises that long-ago night.

-~-

Ian wearily made his way back to his garret of an apartment after a way-too-long meeting with Irons, which had lasted most of the day. He was looking forward to a long shower, and perhaps a chance to read a couple of chapters of the book - A Christmas Carol - his landlady had given him for Christmas this year. Mrs. Williams always made a point of doing something nice for him each holiday; she'd taken to him like a mother hen does for chicks, and her kindnesses were one of the few bright spots in his life. He always tried to give her a nice present each year in return - he knew that if it weren't for her, he wouldn't have celebrated the holiday otherwise.

He shrugged off his black, snow-dusted slightly dampened anorak and dropped it on a chair near the door. It was cold and wet outside, and he was grateful that Irons had allowed him to go home for once instead of having him shadow Sara Pezzini for once. After walking into his bedroom, he reached out to turn the light on.

And stared at his bed in shock.

A pile of brightly wrapped presents took pride of place in the middle of his bed. There was a beautiful gold card sitting in the middle of the pile. Ian walked over and picked it up, reading it.

"Ian,

I have very hazy memories of a really awful day you helped to make better. I hope this makes your day - and your holiday season - as wonderful as you once made my day.

Sara

He reached for and opened the bulky, oddly rectangular package closest to him - and found the Orient Express train he'd been admiring.

Ian proceeded to open his other presents first carefully, then after about 5 minutes pieces of paper and bits of brightly colored ribbon showered the otherwise plain and neat room. Rusty, but delighted laughter rang through the room.

Sara was halfway through watching the network broadcast of _Scrooged_, laughing at the antics of Carol Kane's slightly demented fairy ghost when her cell phone rang. She knew who it had to be. . .

"Hey Sara." he said.

"Hey Ian." she replied. It was their "normal" exchange.

A pause, then, "Thank you for the best Christmas presents I've ever had," he said in a suspiciously husky, happy voice.

"You're welcome." she replied, smiling. "Enjoy them, I'm glad I made you happy - you deserve to be, especially during this time of year."

"I think I'll read the Harry Potter first - I want to know what all the fuss is about... Happy Holidays, Sara." He hung up.

-~-

During the next couple of days, Sara picked up the makings of a holiday dinner with all the trimmings, telling herself that if she ended up having to eat this alone, she'd find a bum on the street and give the extras to them on Christmas Day.

-~-

It was 7:30 pm on Christmas Eve. Sara had just gotten off work for the day. She was scheduled to be off Christmas Day and she was walking home from work. She spotted Ian Nottingham, wearing his big black leather trenchcoat tightly closed against the wet mix of rain and snow pacing her on her walk home. After he knew that she saw him, he smiled, then pointed toward her apartment and faded back into the crowd.

Sara smiled a little to herself, then stepped up the pace to get up to her loft.

She walked in the door, quickly shedding winter coat, scarf and hat, then walked into the kitchen to start a fire under a teapot she'd left on her stove full of water that morning.

Just as she finished this, Ian tapped on her window.

She walked over to let him in, smiling a little, and he quickly took off his own slightly damp trenchcoat and hat. She showed him where to put his coat and hat then beckoned him toward a chair.

He paused and said, " Hello, Sara, I brought a present for you, too."

"You didn't have to do that for me, Ian - you already gave me a present some time ago . . ." Sara got out before Ian stopped her with a gesture.

"I . . . sort of remember that, too, Sara - but, like I said to you over the phone a few days ago, the presents you gave were the best I've ever received. It would be discourteous of me to accept your presents without trying to give back presents in return - even if I gave you presents months ago, or yesterday. Anyway, here is a present for you."

Sara looked down at Ian's hands, which had been empty when she'd looked at them just a moment before, which now held two small rectangular boxes, a red one stacked on a green one in a pyramid and wrapped in gold ribbons. She took them and carefully unwrapped the boxes.

In the green box, there was a delicate gold chain; on the end of the chain was a miniature replica of the Witchblade - a exquisite sword pendant in gold and silver, with a winking oval ruby in the hilt of the sword and a diamond in the pommel nut end of the little blade. Sara was stunned at its beauty, and stared in admiration of the work done on it . . .

Ian said after a moment of glee at her impressed expression, "I requested that this be made, on my own. Irons had nothing to do with this."

Sara tore her eyes away and beamed a brilliant smile at Ian. He grinned back, then said, "But you haven't opened the other box, yet. . . "

So, Sara opened the other, smaller box. Also on a gold chain, there was a very complicated Celtic knotwork pendant with a sapphire at the center - even more than the pattern on the hat and belt she'd given Ian. Sitting inside the boundaries of the chain was a ring with a very similar pattern that also had a sapphire at the center.

She was equally stunned at the beauty of it.

Ian had moved - quietly, like a cat - so he was right behind her, so when he spoke next to her ear, from behind her, she startled just a bit - but was not afraid or agitated in his presence, for once.

"The knots on the ring - there are two types - are called the Guardian knot and the Warrior Knot. I thought they would suit you and they do. Merry Christmas, Sara."

He moved from behind her and toward the window he'd entered by, but before he could reach the window, Sara spoke.

"Please don't go. Share this evening - and a cup of tea, or cider, and dinner with me. You're not going to Irons' home for Christmas, are you?"

His back turned, Ian answered, "Irons doesn't believe in the "superstitious nonsense" of holidays. . ."

Sara said, in a different voice than she'd yet used with him, "But I _do_. Stay. . . please. There's enough in my refrigerator for two here, and I've no one else to spend the holidays with."
Ian turned and looked at Sara - really looked at her. For once, there was no sarcasm, or fear, or anger in her face, just open friendliness and trust, for this moment.

Ian blinked - then he smiled.

Sara blinked herself, thinking, *Wow. The stalker's devastating when he smiles. . . * then shook herself and dismissed the mistrust that brought that thought on. She steered Ian into the kitchen, where the teapot was now whistling merrily.

-~-
Sara warmed up the Christmas dinner she'd bought, and they both enjoyed the results. Afterward, she suggested he stay and talk, and maybe watch a movie or two - she knew that he probably was going to just go home to a lonely apartment, any way.

As the night went on, the two of them slowly began to talk about their presents, then of more mundane things, just like old friends would, and then finally they settled down together and watched old Christmas movies. It was the most relaxed either of them had been in a long time.

Sara smiled as It's a Wonderful Life played, knowing she'd done a really good thing for the holidays.

For one night, at least, peace was declared between herself and Ian. Maybe one day, it'd be a permanent peace.

FIN

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Witchblade: Random Acts of Kindness

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 05:18:56 GMT

{2009 note} I wrote this probably after a particularly lousy day at work; I remember wishing someone would do this for *me...* :)

Random Acts of Kindness

By

Tracey Claybon

Disclaimer: Ian and Sara are not mine, they're Top Cow's.

Rated: G

-----
The title is from the bumper sticker and all-around piece of good advice:

"Commit random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty."

I don't know who wrote it, but I think it makes the world a better place to live in...

-----
{2009 note} I wrote this probably after a particularly lousy day at work; I remember wishing someone would do this for *me...* :)

Got the bath oils idea from wandering the stores at the local mall. Two of the scents cited are parts of personal favorites (I *love* Bath and Body Works)... ;-) Now, if only I could get Ian to do this for *me*, but that's only a dream g. . .

This is TV series continuity, right after Maelstrom.

All text in italics are thoughts.

*****

Ian watched from a hidden vantage point as Sara came in her loft apartment's door after a particularly trying day and afternoon.

She had just returned to work a week after her lover Conchobar died.

The new Police Chief, Dante, was particularly obnoxious to Sara at work this afternoon, she'd had a minor tiff with Jake, her partner, this morning, and there was a notice in the mail from the landlord telling her that her rent would be rising $100 a month and she would now have to put down a hefty security deposit after the destruction caused when Conchobar was kidnapped, or her lease might not be renewed. The icing on the cake of this day was a sudden, wet, cold downpour, which drenched her on the way home (Ian was still feeling the rain, which was dripping down the back of his neck as he watched Sara go about her business at home). Needless to say, Sara was not exactly feeling sunny when she came home and it showed - she was currently giving her punching bag in the gym a real workout...
He watched all of this wondering, Okay, what else can I do now? Irons only told me to watch what she did where the Witchblade was concerned - but nothing else. I want to do something to help - what can I do? Just then he noticed that Sara was walking toward the door, muttering something about "spoiled milk, ripped hose and no bath oil." A light bulb went on in his head. Ian's face gained a impish grin ...

Sara returned home from a trip out of lower Manhattan to a new mall where she'd gone shopping for a little new clothing and some other items to find her kitchen, bedroom and bathroom transformed. On the bed Sara found a lusciously soft deep blue, pale turquoise-trimmed silk kimono, with a unsigned note in spiky masculine handwriting: "I know you had a horrible day. Hope this makes up for it." Stunned, Sara surged into the bathroom and stopped short at the sight of a filled and steaming bathtub, just the temperature she liked, with a small wood tray of new bottles of assorted bath oils and scents - vanilla, lemongrass, raspberry and others - seated on a small table that had been placed next to the bathtub.

When she got over the shock, she blitzed through her apartment, making sure there wasn't an intruder, but found no one...

Last, in the kitchen, she found her table set for one, and a note with the same spiky masculine handwriting that said, "The food is in the refrigerator, in containers. All you have to do is warm it. Dessert is in the freezer." A glass of good blush wine had been poured, and the bottle sat chilled in a holder on the table. In the refrigerator she found a container of chocolate mousse, labeled in the spiky masculine handwriting and take out Penang Curry and Pad Thai from one of the best Thai restaurants in town; in the freezer were two containers of Ben and Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk. One was labeled "Now"; the other was labeled "Open in emergencies ;-)"

Sara stared at the containers for a moment, then it dawned on her who her secret benefactor was. With a rueful smile, she walked to the window, looked right outside, scanning the rooftop across from her place till she saw Ian, who was quietly and calmly watching all of this. She gave him a thousand-watt smile, and merely said "Thank you."

Ian bowed, then waved just before he disappeared, heading for his own home and bed, warm in heart and soul despite the cold rain.

-FIN-

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The Crush (Nightwing/Disney's Gargoyles)

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 05:00:52 GMT

This story is to be considered part of a series I'm constructing called The Cosmic Network. The original Author's Notes still apply. In DC-verse timeline this takes place post NML and WAY pre Identity Crisis/52. For Gargoyles, it takes place just post the Hunter's Moon trilogy.

Nightwing - The Crush

By

Tracey Claybon

Nightwing/Disney's Gargoyles Crossover

I don't own Nightwing/Dick Grayson, Elisa Maza, or the Gargoyles - DC owns Nightwing (and any other mentioned related characters) and Disney and creator Greg Wiseman own(s) Elisa, the Gargoyles and related characters.

Takes place post Hunter's Moon in the Gargoyles series and post-NML in Nightwing continuity.

This story is a sequel of sorts to Constance Cochran's _Night's Defenders_, and she (along with multiple others!) was kind enough to beta stages of it for me. It's the prequel to a second crossover story in progress I'm tentatively calling The Knight and Dragon Gambit. She suggested the original story idea that became this story. Thanks, Constance!

-----

I know you're wondering just what REALLY inspired me to become a cop in addition to having the (definitely more-than-full-time) job of being Nightwing.

I mean, hey, I'm ALREADY *Nightwing.*

Leader of the Titans; longest running partner of the Batman; created the persona of Robin; graduated from sidekick of the greatest non-super-powered hero and detective on the planet to become a hero in my own right. What an idea, right?

Me - a man of the Rom, of all things - a COP.

If anyone had said to me when I was a kid - hell, even when I was 18 - that *I* would become a cop - I'd have a) laughed till I wet my pants and I stopped breathing, then, after I recovered; b) looked at you like you'd completely lost your mind; and then c) gone looking for the nice gentlemen in white coats carrying the I-love-me jacket for you that was just your size.

But, believe it or not (most days, I *still* don't!) here I am, a sworn officer of the law.

And the example I look to that inspired me to do it - not Batman, although he inspires me to justice like no other can on the planet, or beyond; not Jim Gordon, one of the best and most honest men to ever wear - and honor -the blue; not even Superman, Big Blue himself, who has inspired many a boy to become a greater man than he might have become because of HIS example of otherworldly honor and his relentless pursuit of justice (oh, and I smile broadly because I can just hear Bruce's snort of mild contempt at THAT statement, even now) - no, none of those men, excellent examples that they are, were the example that convinced me to serve the public in this other capacity openly, instead of behind the mask as Nightwing.

In the end, I did it because of the example of a detective in the 23rd precinct with the name of Elisa Maza.

I suppose I fell just a little in love with her when I first met her. She's a little more than just conventionally pretty - long dark hair, big dark eyes, mocha-colored skin, slim - doesn't seem to be my normal type - I normally go for tall, muscular redheads - the original Batgirl (and current Oracle); Kory (Starfire), etc. - but there is just something enigmatic about her that just captures my attention and a tiny piece of my heart.

My heart belongs utterly to Barbara Gordon.

I know that even if Barbara didn't exist - and Elisa didn't have Goliath, the ultimate in devoted and proprietary steady boyf . . . - well, I'm really not sure WHAT to call Goliath, in gargoyle terms - maybe prospective mate? - well, our relationship would never be much more than big sister/little brother anyway.

All the attraction stuff aside, I got my inspiration to become a cop from watching her in action alongside her partner Matt, and also working with Goliath, Brooklyn, Broadway, Angela, Lexington, Hudson and their garg-pooch, Bronx, night after night, solving the big crimes, and also the little ones, in a city that appreciates them even less in a way than Bludhaven appreciates Nightwing.

When I asked Hudson, who is to the Manhattan clan what Alfred is to the Bat-Clan, why they put their lives on the line, night after night, to protect a city of people who, for the most part would run from them in terror if they met them on the street, he responded "Gargoyles can no more stop protecting the castle and the city than breathing the air. It's why we exist."

I realized right then that's why Elisa and the Gargoyles fight in common cause. Fundamentally their principles are the same, at the heart of all. And, their cause is the same as my own as Nightwing, as Batman's, and as Superman's; the difference is that Elisa does her city protection on a ordinary detective's salary. Granted, she has pretty impressive help in the Gargoyles - but she still does - and would do without any help at all - the work of an ordinary detective and police officer, day after day, and maybe in spite of the Gargoyles.

I think I admire that most of all. No Man's Land re-taught me that I as Nightwing could strip my "arsenal" down to the basics and the skills that I have, taught to me, natural and ingrained by Batman, and the other teachers I've had over the years and still accomplish five impossible things before sunrise, let alone breakfast - but it's not something I willingly do unless I have no other choice. Elisa, on the other hand, does it in a matter-of-fact, everyday fashion - because that is how she works, all the time, everyday.

She does this with a grace that is undeniable. She is tough, and loyal, and I respect her as much as Batman, Superman and any of my Titans for sheer grit.

Because I observed her in action, I realized that an ordinary individual who put on the badge could make as much difference in their chosen city as I can on the planetary and cosmic stage as Nightwing.

That example, held in front of me like the Holy Grail, along with the other examples of justice seekers in my life, has helped to keep me from giving up on Bludhaven - I figure that if Batman can single-handedly keep Gotham from sliding into the abyss, and Elisa can do her everyday job, then I can keep trying to save Bludhaven.

And, in the end, her example is what helped me decide to become a cop, to serve publicly during the day; and I would continue to serve beneath the mask during the night as Nightwing.

I just hope that I can set as excellent an example of police as good guys for others as she has for me; maybe one day, a youngster much like I was will look at my example, be inspired, and become a credit to the blue, much as I hope to be.

In a way, that's the ultimate legacy Elisa will leave, and that's the best anyone, in the end, can hope for.

-FIN-

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Triptych - A Gotham Story in Three Parts (with prologue) {complete one-post}

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 04:43:50 GMT

Story-wide Author's Note:

I have combined four stories I wrote originally as a prologue snippit and three individual POV stories under the main title of Triptych. It will be a single post with all parts included. No sequel is planned at this time.

*****

Triptych - A Gotham Story in Three Parts

By

Tracey Claybon

This is the Prologue and Disclaimers portion of the story

Author's note – This story was written when I decided I wanted to NOT get inside the Bat's head for a change. I wondered how Gordon and others in the world of the Bat saw him and his crusade. This was the result.

***

From the Merriam-Webster online dictionary:

Main Entry: trip·tych

Pronunciation: 'trip-(")tik

Function: noun

Etymology: Greek triptychos having three folds, from tri- + ptychE fold

Date: 1731

1 : an ancient Roman writing tablet with three waxed leaves hinged together

2 a : a picture (as an altarpiece) or carving in three panels side by side

b : something composed or presented in three parts or sections; especially : TRILOGY

--==--==--

The parts are titled as follows:

Prologue: Water Cooler Discussion

Part One: Blind Justice

Part Two: Plausible Deniability

Part Three: Coin Toss

This is a set of stories in chronological order. All three deal with supporting characters for Batman in a Shadow of the Bat/Gotham Knights style. Story one mostly takes place during Batman's first year as the Dark Knight and is from Mackenzie "Hardback" Bock's viewpoint before he joined the GCPD; story two is from Year Five, when Barbara Gordon was still Batgirl and is from Jim Gordon's POV; story three takes place during Cataclysm and the NML, and concerns how Renee Montoya sees Batman and Two- Face/Harvey Dent.

Story Disclaimer: Mackenzie Bock, Jim Gordon, Renee Montoya, Batman/Bruce Wayne, Two-Face/Harvey Dent, Barbara Gordon, and any other character mentioned from Batman, Detective Comics, Gotham Knights, or Shadow of the Bat are not mine - they all belong to DC.

Prologue: Water Cooler Discussion

By

Tracey Claybon

All usual disclaimers apply, as always.

Jim Gordon concluded his weekly meeting with the lieutenants and detectives of his department, and dismissed everyone. He busied himself gathering papers together before returning to his desk. As he prepared to go, he noticed that Lieutenant Bock and Detective Montoya were straggling behind, the last to leave, because they were deep in a quiet conversation.

Gordon walked up just in time to hear the end of the conversation. Renee was excitedly speaking:

"…never did tell me that story! You say you met the Bat THAT long ago?!"

The two officers went into a guilty silence when they realized who was behind them. Gordon just looked at them, grinned suddenly and said to the slightly guilty looking pair, "Well? Continue, I want to hear this too…!"

Part 1: Blind Justice

Triptych: Blind Justice

By

Tracey Claybon

--

This is the first story in a trilogy.

From the Merriam-Webster online dictionary:

Main Entry: trip·tych

Pronunciation: 'trip-(")tik

Function: noun

Etymology: Greek triptychos having three folds, from tri- + ptychE fold

Date: 1731

1 : an ancient Roman writing tablet with three waxed leaves hinged together

2 a : a picture (as an altarpiece) or carving in three panels side by side

b : something composed or presented in three parts or sections; especially : TRILOGY

This is a set of stories in chronological order. All three deal with supporting characters for Batman in a Shadow of the Bat/Gotham Knights style. Story one mostly takes place during Batman's first year as the Dark Knight and is from Mackenzie "Hardback" Bock's viewpoint before he joined the GCPD; story two is from Year Five, when Barbara Gordon was still Batgirl and is from Jim Gordon's POV; story three takes place during Cataclysm and the NML and concerns how Renee Montoya sees Batman and Two- Face/Harvey Dent.

Virtual cream cheese brownies to anyone who can name the SotB issues for the characters I'm referring to in the story!

The Robert Frost poem quoted here, _The Road Not Taken_ is used without permission.

--

Hardback remembered that day like it was yesterday.

He had been so very tired that night, but was thinking of the major English exams at the end of the week and the collegiate entrance exams he was to take the next day - he couldn't forget how hot it was, how heavy the books were in his aching arms - he'd spent most of that night stocking shelves and waiting on customers, only getting to study during his lunch break and the two 15-minute breaks Sam Morgan, the manager of Harrison's Hardware, made sure he took every night.

Morgan also made sure he left in plenty of time to get home safely and study at night. Morgan genuinely liked Mac and wanted to see him make something out of himself

That week had been particularly busy due to the Black Cat Killer - racial tensions were high and people wanted items to reinforce their homes, or make repairs so that burglars wouldn't find so many weaknesses to exploit.

During that day he saw both the Wendels, an older couple in the community who had always watched out for him in the neighborhood, and Sarge, the WWII vet who lived in the house on Mayfair and Finger* who'd been there forever and always had a kind word for Mac, and all the others he considered "his kids."

All the people from the neighborhood he knew were worried - the racial tension in town was so thick, you could cut it with a butter knife. Mac wasn't too concerned for himself - most of the neighborhood knew him well as a quiet kid, well behaved and always willing to help if someone needed it. Tonight, though, Sam told him to leave a bit early so he could get a good night's sleep. He was reciting a Robert Frost poem quietly to himself:

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that, the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Just as he reached the end of Mayfair Street, where it turned into the area known as Crime Alley, Mac felt like he was being watched. By the time he had practically run through Crime Alley, he KNEW he was being followed. He could hear the taunts and crude, cruel laughter echoing around the buildings, and as he quickly walked toward the relative safety of the streetlights near the decrepit wreck of a once-beautiful old building that housed a movie theater, Mac finally spotted his pursuers.

It was a group of young white males, about eight in number. He saw that one was carrying a length of heavy chain and another held a baseball bat with a odd profile; it looked as if someone had driven nails, point-end out, into the bat. All of the young men except two(wearing punk spikes) wore cropped to the scalp hair, shorter than his own close-shaven curls, and upon seeing this, Mac's knees went to jelly - he recognized what these punks were.

The mayor's talk about "keeping those people in their place" just that week had resulted in a KKK and neo-Nazi skinhead rally in town in the last week to "support" the mayor's efforts.

The citizens of Gotham had mostly sent the Klan and the skinheads packing, but there had been isolated groups of mostly dropouts and other ne'er-do- wells from town that had stayed to listen to them spout their spiel of hatred and intolerance.

This pack of skinheads was obviously looking for a victim, and they picked HIM.

They caught up with him just after the Alley, talking about how they were going to "skin me a Black Cat" and "what you doing out this late at night, boy?"

Mac tried to back away from the trouble - one against eight odds were bad enough even if it was only fists, and it was worse when some of the eight carried weapons. - but his back was literally against the wall.

A lash of the chain set his right hand on fire with pain, as the notebook he'd been carrying went flying, scattering paper everywhere. But, before that chain could inflict any more damage, the shadows grew and formed themselves into the form of the Batman, who caught the chain and tossed it - with its wielder - into a rusty barbed wire and chain link fence that was mostly barbed wire behind where he'd materialized seemingly from nowhere. The man (boy, really) with the green spikes and the studded baseball bat tried to swing at the Batman and ended up with a bat in three pieces and an arm to match. Mac got in a few good punches, himself, and shortly only the Batman and Mac were still standing.

An long stare from the Batman sent the ragged remnants of the little skinhead gang scurrying away to nurse their wounds and escape.

Mac was thrilled - instead of getting pounded, he'd been saved by the Gotham growing legend. He turned to thank the Batman, but was only in time to see him fade into the shadows of the night, like a shadow himself.

Mac stood there, amazed, a few minutes longer. He'd had enough time to see that the Batman was obviously a white man - but a white man, like Sarge and like Sam Morgan, who felt that his life was worth something and that his life and honor were worth defending. To the Batman, justice was blind - it didn't see color, just injustice.

He realized right then that he wanted to do that for others in Gotham and the community as a whole - help to dispense justice, evenly to all, without regard to race, religion, creed, language, or any other arbiter except the one that said that all Americans should have equal recourse to the law.

And, because of that night, Mac decided that the best way for him to do that - after he graduated his classes - was to enlist, learn all the military could teach him, then take that knowledge back to Gotham City and serve her as an officer of the law.

"… and that's what started me down the road to becoming a detective, Renee. I never forgot what the Batman did for me that night, and I've always tried to hold it up as an example of what I want to be in my brightest moments as a officer of the law," Hardback said.

"Now, you promised, Jim. Your turn to 'fess up about YOUR first meeting with the Bat..."

The three talked animatedly on, as the skies outside grew crimson and rose pink, in anticipation of the shadows of the night ahead...

End Part One.

Part Two: Plausible Deniability

Triptych Part Two:

Plausible Deniability

By

Tracey Claybon

--

Author's note:

The Water Cooler Dialogue Prologue snippet and the conversation and recollections of Triptych all take place before the events of Officer Down!.

The "quote" from Gordon's meeting with Superman and Batgirl is a paraphrase and not a direct quote, as is the NML Dialogue.

*Pyser – a type of hard pear cider.

---

Gordon told Bock and Montoya about his first meeting with the Bat, and some of the better anecdotes from the meetings the two had had over the years they worked together to keep Gotham City safe. Later after he went home, he sat in his favorite armchair, remembering a couple of stories he couldn't tell his officers.

He remembered a young, muscular, vivacious redhead in the garb of the Bat.

He also remembered the day he realized exactly who the Bat was.

--

Jim came home early from work one night; Barbara was working late at her off-campus job in the library as assistant to the head librarian, so she wasn't home to greet him that night.

Since he was coming home early, he stopped off at MacGinty's Pub and brought home Moira MacGinty's Irish stew, made with really succulent pieces of lamb and beef; while he was at the pub, a stuffed bear wearing the Gordon Clan kilt hopped in his paper bag and demanded to go home to a certain beautiful daughter's stuffed animal collection, so he had it wrapped for her as a present – he had been working REALLY long hours at the precinct since he'd taken the Commissioner's position, so he wanted to surprise his daughter by coming home early and with a pleasant dinner for a change.

He walked into his darkened house, turning on lights and depositing the stew in the kitchen, where he would heat it in a broiler pan to bubbling about 20 minutes before he knew Barbara would be home. He'd also purchased blueberry and lemon scones, good, sharp Cheddar, a few pints of MacGinty's best house cider and pyser * and two loaves of Mrs. MacGinty's brown bread as well, to make the meal especially special – it was a rare thing for him to bring in dinner, because of the crazy hours he and Babs were increasingly keeping.

After he deposited dinner in the kitchen, he wandered up to Babs' room to leave the new member of the collection on a prominent place on her bed. He had just put down the package when a bit of gray cloth poking from beneath Barbara's otherwise tidy bed's dust ruffle caught his eye.

Thinking it was a bit of laundry she'd missed putting in the hamper, he pulled it out from under the bed...

And stared for what seemed like endless moments at the smoky gray unitard with the bat symbol in yellow on it and the mask and boots that had been rolled inside.

It felt as if the world whirled in a hundred different directions, and then came to rest in place, and nothing was the same.

His Barbara – his beautiful, brilliant, sunny daughter – was _Batgirl_.

Rage, pain, fear – all those emotions, separately and together, raced through his heart, all at one time as Jim replaced the suit more securely under the bed and walked back downstairs again, to ready dinner.

Rationally, he knew what Batgirl, along with Batman and Robin, meant to - and FOR - Gotham. Without them, Gotham would resemble that toxic wasteland of a city just south of Gotham called Bludhaven; there were times when it seemed that the Batman and his partners were the *only*thing standing between Gotham as a livable city and Gotham as a clone of Bludhaven.

But, selfishly, Barbara was his daughter and the one light in his life. Without her, his life simply wasn’t worth living. He found himself *enraged* at Batman for leading _his_ daughter into situations where she could be at the very least, maimed for life…!

And yet - when had _anyone_ "led" Barbara _anywhere?

With a mental chuckle of grim humor, Jim recalled that his daughter could also be one of the most stubborn individuals to walk the surface of Mother Earth too - she *never* did *anything* unaware and without careful thought; the Batman could never, and frankly, he thought *would never* have convinced or coerced Barbara into *anything.*

In fact, he remembered that in the very first days that he saw Batgirl with Batman, Batman looked annoyed and irritated with the fledgling heroine, and underneath the irritation, there was a vague hint of ... almost fatherly concern about the girl and her welfare, as well. Batgirl's attitude toward Batman, by contrast, seemed like a combination of genuine admiration of the morals and principles of Batman and a full-blown crush of a young woman on a much-older man she admires and finds interesting. Jim had also noticed (with some relief) that the "budding" sexual interest was *not* returned – instead, there was the vague impression that the man under the cloak of the Bat was a combination of a bit uncomfortable with the hero worship and crush he sensed from Batgirl and oddly enough, a little oblivious to it, as well, because he seemed - emotionally perhaps - not mature enough to respond to it.

It was also obvious that the Batman cared about the welfare of his partners, and shortly after that first meeting, Jim remembered noticing that Batgirl's offensive and defensive skills improved very quickly after that initial meeting. Within 6 weeks of working side by side with the Dark Knight, she'd moved with the same feline grace as Robin and Batman.

Jim realized that he'd seen that strange contradiction of images that he spotted in Batman before when speaking to an acquaintance of his, but he couldn't remember who it was at that moment. He knew, though, given time, he'd remember who that reaction had reminded him of. He knew that it was someone he knew fairly well and that he'd seen often enough for that person to make an impression on him..

--

That night at dinner, Jim struggled not to show his terror and consternation at his discovery that day to his daughter, who did most of the talking about a new computer upgrade that had just arrived at the library. He couldn't help thinking, though - what dangers would she meet up with tonight?

The thought gave him three days of sleepless nights. At the end of the third night, he knew he had to rationalize that his daughter was a young adult and could make her own decisions, maturely – but that didn't mean he had to like the situation. His meetings with Batman the week after the discovery were a bit less cordial than usual, but as he came to the decision to let Barbara make her own decisions for and in her own life, the unmentioned tension between the two men slowly subsided during the weeks that followed.

--

Six weeks later:

The annual Gotham City Policeman's Ball was also one of the high society social events of the year for Gotham City's rich and famous as well as the yearly meet-and-mingle networking hobnob for Gotham's police. This year it was being held in the Kane Convention Center, an elegant Art Deco building that was something of a bright spot in Gotham City's slightly grim streets. Built before the darker times had come to the city in the mid-60's, the convention center was an oasis of beauty, like a diamond set in tarnished silver. The organizers of the ball stopped at no cost, for once, to honor the *official* protectors of the city.

Jim really hated starchy, showy, one-upmanship black tie affairs, but as commissioner of Gotham City's police force, he was required to be at the ball at least until 9 o'clock that evening.

After having to literally inch away, step by step, from a group of Gotham's society register headed by Veronica Vreeland discussing how the new city zoning and the newly passed earthquake retrofitting and new building construction code laws would drive down the property values in the rich section of Gotham City on the West Side of town, Jim felt the need of some air.

He made his way out toward the Kane Memorial Fountain, the center point of the courtyard of the convention center, partly because the coolness of the air around the fountain was refreshing after being in a stuffy ballroom most of the autumn evening. Jim could smell the crisp scent of apples and of drying fall leaves on the wind that was cooled by the fountain, and he stopped to perch on the corner of the fountain to clear his head.

As he was sitting on the edge of the fountain, he noticed the increasing volume of an argument between a couple beginning in a semi-shaded corner of the courtyard.

"No, Billy, I will NOT go with you to your place tonight. I told you, I have to go back home at 10 so that I can take over my brother's shift at my family's store… ! " the young woman hissed at her date.

"C'mon, Renee, you *know* you want to go home with me… C'mon, we've been dating for six weeks now... Can't you call home and tell Mommy and Daddy to let you off one night?" the woman's blond –haired date loudly – and drunkenly – slurred back

Jim recognized Billy as Lieutenant William Pettit, the young SWAT team officer that George Colson, the current SWAT team leader was looking at as a future replacement; Pettit was already three-sheets-to-the-wind - intoxicated, and was obviously ignoring the young woman's objections to going home with him.

"No, I can't! My brother Manny's leaving early so he can study for his midterms, and tonight till tomorrow's night shift was the only time off I had, and I promised that I'd do this a month ago to help out!!!" Renee replied looking VERY irritated with her date..

Jim noticed that the woman speaking was one of his hardest working young officers, Renee Montoya; her devotion to job and family had already gotten her noticed, and Jim was quietly considering putting the young officer on the fast track to Detective – good, hard working cops like this youngster certainly deserved the opportunity to move ahead.

He couldn't help thinking that she should have had better taste in men, though.

Billy suddenly grabbed Renee's arm, roughly, and was going to attempt to drag her to the door, and presumably, out to his car. Jim straightened up, prepared to intervene, but Pettit was stopped suddenly when he collided with a tall, seemingly equally intoxicated dark-haired man in a tailored-to- fit Armani suit who was exiting to the courtyard.

It seemed as though the man who collided with Pettit only stumbled and brushed his arm, but Pettit suddenly let go of Renee's hand with a grunt of pain and an expression of agony. The dark-haired man recovered from his stumble, apologizing, and Pettit, who looked at first like he was going to pick a fight with – or just plain deck - the other man, suddenly blanched stark white, mumbled something, and left without Renee, quickly.

Renee, who had also noticed the identity of the dark-haired man, also looked a little surprised at who her erstwhile savior was, but after a momentary conversation with him, she smiled and walked back into the party through the door he held open for her, charmed by the courtesy of the dark- haired man's smile, words and actions.

Jim noticed then that this man was Bruce Wayne, richest man in Gotham City and all-around ladies' man, as well as all-around notorious klutz and stumblebum.

He also noticed a sudden, abrupt change in Wayne's face on watching Renee walk away that lasted for about 30 seconds before it was hidden under the – mask – of the empty-headed playboy socialite. The expression on Wayne's went in an instant from vapid drunk to …a battle hardened look mixed with satisfaction, then back to intoxicated vacuousness, but not so quickly that Jim failed to notice the change.

Wayne finally noticed Gordon standing in the mist of the fountain and ambled toward the Commissioner.

Jim exchanged pleasantries with Wayne for a few moments; afterward, Wayne wandered back into the ballroom. While talking with Wayne, he noticed the exact same feeling of duality he'd perceived from Batman in this man – he had known him for years.

However, while talking to Bruce Wayne now, he got the impression that although Wayne was talking about commonplaces, his mind was somewhere else, and also that there was a lot more going on behind those dark sapphire eyes than

Jim knew Bruce socially, from events like this; his daughter babysat for Bruce's young ward, Dick Grayson – but, this was the first time he'd really thought about the little things about the Bruce Wayne he'd known for years that didn't quite add up in the man's image; since finding out that Barbara was Batgirl, he'd looked at everyone he knew, trying to remember the individual that triggered that sense of twin-ness... Now, Jim saw it *clearly*.

Bruce Wayne *was* the Batman. The attitudes he displayed most of the time, his obvious emotional immaturity reaction to the deaths of his parents, murdered in front of him as a child; noticing that he seemed to just... disappear when trouble was around - and although everyone remembered he was there at the beginning of a crisis where the Batman appeared, no one remembered seeing him in the crowd during the crisis - but the Batman was there, instead.

After their conversation concluded, Bruce announced that he was having more champagne and turned back to wander back into the party. Jim noticed, also, at that moment, that he was drinking sparkling *water* - not champagne, too.

The champagne this year was a amber-colored Asti, specially imported from France and gifted to the Policeman's Ball by a Belgian Ambassador that the GCPD escorted around town as guards on his first trip to the US and Gotham City.

The glass in Bruce Wayne's hand contained a clear, sparkling liquid that was purely white clear.

Bruce Wayne wandered back into the party indoors.

Jim, however, stood in the cool mists of the fountain, going into shock again with realization as he put two and two together and made four .

--

Later that evening:

The shock still hadn't worn off; Jim was alternating between absolute rage and surprise, as he put more and more of the puzzle together.

If his suspicions were correct, someone he'd known for YEARS had not only lied to him for at least the 5+ years he'd known him, but he was risking the life of his daughter - and, he realized with that revelation that Dick Grayson *had* to be *Robin* if Batman was Bruce Wayne – which meant he was also risking the life of his ward as well...

It made his blood boil just thinking about it.

But, then, that rational corner of his mind grabbed the raging side of his mind and made it listen to reason: He didn't officially KNOW that Bruce Wayne was Batman. He had already decided to accept Barbara's decision to be Batgirl, and he knew from watching Batman and Robin work together that the two of them alone could – and usually did – take down entire gangs of thugs with their bare hands, sheer nerves and fighting skills just short of supernatural.

And, if that were the case, then confronting him wasn't necessary; Batman – like Gordon would have in his shoes – had taken as many precautions as could be reasonably – and, frankly, *un*reasonably be done to keep his proteges safe. Like when he'd decided to let Barbara make her own decisions, he decided now to let things lie, and not "out" Wayne as the Batman. Since the knowledge wasn't official, he could deny it if asked directly, and that plausible deniability kept Batman, Robin – and especially Batgirl – safe, and as a sworn officer of the law, he couldn't chase vigilantes that "officially" existed.

--

Three weeks later

Gordon met up with Superman and Batgirl when they were attempting to stop the thieves of the 100 Gang out of Metropolis; Superman had made some comment about watching Batgirl's back, and Jim had almost given away the store when he said to Superman as he flew Batgirl to confront the 100, "Be careful, …'cause Batgirl's still somebody's daughter...

And he watched them fly away thinking – That's *MY* daughter. Please, please, Superman – and any listening angels, too - keep my beautiful daughter safe…"

Last year, near the middle of the NML: late August 2001

All the anger, rage and hatred that his rational mind had managed to bury, deep in his heart and mind, were exploding from the end of his right fist as he roundhouse-punched Batman in the jaw – and, in a corner of his mind, he noticed that Batman didn't duck – he even looked defeated, like a lost child for all his size and obvious strength. He was telling him to leave his home, leave the Blue Boys territory, and at this moment, all the emotions he'd pent up over the years could all be expressed with that one punch. For once, Batman listened, leaving his garden as he'd asked, but he left a parting comment that Two-Face really couldn't be trusted.

Plausible deniability really meant nothing when someone you had depended on for so very long betrayed you - especially when you'd been loyal to him - at least, that was how Jim felt at the time.

Jim also had finally expressed in that punch the rage he felt that Batman hadn't killed the Joker when he had the chance - the grinning hyena-like freak madman who'd put his beautiful daughter in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.

--

Last year, near the end of the NML: late November 2001

Batman and Jim stood in the garden, exchanging "niceties", but really dancing around the words each really wanted to say. But, when they finally started talking, Jim finally got most of what he'd needed to say to Batman off his chest. Then, when Batman felt he needed to prove his loyalty to Jim as a person as an absolute certainty by showing him who he truly was - Jim realized that 1- he had always been right and 2 - he didn't *have* to know for certain that Bruce Wayne was Batman. He begged him to put the mask back on - because not officially knowing meant that the protection of the city both loved so much was secure again, and also - it kept a little "mystery" in the … friendship, and yes, also - *partnership* between himself and Batman.

Now:

Jim sat at the kitchen table, drinking a quiet pint of MacGinty's best pyser, and thinking about all that had occurred over the years that he'd known - and dealt with - Batman and his proteges. His thoughts turned, as they often did, to his daughter, Barbara, and as if thinking of her summoned her, his cell phone rang, startling him from his reminiscing with a jolt. It was Barbara.

"Hi, Dad!" she said.

"Hi, beautiful, how are you?" he said, feeling his mood brightening just speaking to her.

"Wonderful, Dad - I called to find out - are you free for dinner tomorrow night?"

"For you, any time. What's the occasion?"

"... And, why does there have to be an *occasion* to take my Dad to dinner? You're not turning down a free dinner, are you?"

"No, no, of course not…"

His thoughts were distracted from heavy-weighted issues of secrets as the two talked on for an hour, discussing their dinner plans for the next evening.

At that particular moment, Jim Gordon felt like the richest man in the world, and that was a fact that there was no need whatsoever to *deny*.

End Part Two

Part Three: Coin Toss

New Author's Note: When I wrote this story, I got the facts straight but not too long after I wrote this, DC 'outed' Renee Montoya as lesbian. For my purposes in my Trinity and in Triptych - she is, at best, bisexual. I wrote her as straight in the related stories. When I write her character again, I will do my best to stay close to canon whenever possible.

Now, on with the story:

Original author's note:

This, the third part, mostly takes place during Cataclysm and the NML, and concerns how Renee Montoya sees Batman and Two-Face/Harvey Dent. It takes place prior to Officer Down.

I am rating this one higher in rating than the others due to some very disturbing scenes coming up later in the story. This is at the minimum, a PG-13 to R or higher for violence and implied nonconsensual sex and rape.

Triptych Part Three: Coin Toss

by

Tracey Claybon

--

* denotes thoughts

--

Renee Montoya came in after a particularly long, rough Friday working for the Gotham Police Department to a blessedly cool, quiet apartment, grateful for the beginning weekend, smiling as she remembered some of the anecdotes Commissioner Gordon and Hardback Bock recounted about different meetings with the Batman during the discussion after the weekly briefing that day.

It was the middle of July, and just like any other big city in the middle of summer, Gotham was a convection oven due to the lack of trees and water - typical for urban concrete jungles.

Renee never complained about the heat any more, unlike some of her newer coworkers, because she remembered what summer had been like during the NML about a year and a half ago - not enough water to drink and no relief from the heat during the daylight, and no cool-off at night to give some respite from the body's baking during the day.

She thought to herself as she shed clothing for a shower:

*I *never* want to take conveniences like air conditioning, ice, and clean water for granted. Not after the NML. *

During her shower, she reviewed her to-do list for the weekend as she relaxed under the pounding warmth from the spray.

*Let's see - call Benny at 8 pm tomorrow, groceries Saturday at the open- air mercado, dinner with Mama and Papa Sunday, work on those reports - forget the reports! Oh, yes, that's right, got to get tickets for the No Doubt with Bounty Killer concert in town next month too --- drat - forgot the mail.*

Renee opened her eyes in shock - she'd been waiting all week for a new piece of software for her older Curtains XP computer that let her network it to the brand new Bosc G4 running PearOS 12.7.4 she'd purchased a couple of weeks ago.

She hurriedly stepped out of the shower, pulling on her favorite pair of leather sneakers, an old but clean blue t-shirt of Benny's that he'd left here during his last liberty two weeks ago and a soft as butter pair of faded 605 Blues jeans, then grabbed her keys and dashed down to the mailbox station downstairs.

She greeted Mrs. Delahunty, her next door neighbor as she left the postal boxes, promising her that she'd have coffee with her next Saturday as they nattered and chattered about current events. Finally, when Mrs. Delahunty walked away, Renee reached into her mailbox and pulled out her mail, then proceeded to sort it.

*Bill.

* Great - the software finally got here. good, now I can REALLY get some things DONE!

*Bill.

*Nice card. Who do I know that'd be sending me a nice c...

Renee's world seemed to slow to a crawl, then stop dead still as her eyes focused on the signature on the card.

It was signed simply, "Harvey."

-~-

Renee didn't remember making her way back up to her apartment at all; dimly, in the back of her mind she noted that the phone rang a couple of times, the light faded, then darkness fell, then light returned as the sun rose - but all she could do was sit there and stare at the card with *his* name on it.

And, like at the party when she'd been talking to Jim and MacKenzie, it all came back to her.

She remembered slowly beginning to trust Harvey as the NML got worse and worse; her distrust of Harvey grew less and less with each day, and the feeling of mild loathing that she had had for - and around Harvey's alter ego slowly transferred itself to a previously more trusted pair of shoulders.

The shoulders of the Bat.

There were times early on during the NML that Renee had been more afraid of the Bat then of Two-Face at his most murderous - but even at the worst of that time, she never felt that Batman would have harmed her, personally; it was more like the feeling you got when someone you'd depended on all of a sudden wasn't there - or they stabbed you in the chest as you opened your arms in a hug to them - or worse, you felt they might.

A couple of times, during the NML, a lot more often now- and if she admitted it to herself, *BEFORE* the NML, Renee had seen in the Bat's eyes torture of the soul beyond the fires of hell she'd remembered the street preachers screaming about in the streets. Even now she shuddered thinking about that haunted look she'd seen.

She also remembered the ferocity of the battles that she'd seen between Two- Face and Batman, and to this day wondered where she'd gotten the courage to stand in-between the two of them - and the words to cool both of them down.

.and if she had known then what the results of stopping the two from fighting would be - she would have allowed Batman to take Harvey away. And she would have escaped from Gotham by any means available to her - vow or no vow.

-~_

Tears began falling, unheeded and unchecked, from Renee's eyes as she remembered what had happened next.

-~-

She remembered waking up with an aching head in a jail cell, with her childhood furniture in it, lying on her bed. Remembered sensing a presence in the room with her, noting that a) the presence was very large and very masculine and within touching distance; b) that she was unarmed - and dressed in her old, worn night clothes from high school; and c) there was nowhere she could run. She would have tried to defend herself, but before she could strike, he came into the light so she could see him.

It was Harvey.

He told her that he'd brought her there - and why. He said that he loved her and only wanted her to love him back. She was speechless - but the expression of surprise, shock and dismay on her face must have spoken volumes. In a flash, he changed - from Harvey to the much more dangerous - and deranged - Two-Face.

The Two-Face personality proceeded to tell her that the only reason that she was still alive in his presence was because *Harvey* wanted it that way - if it had been up to *him, he'd have just had her and offed her and been done with it. He also told her that her parents and brother were even now being brought here, to ensure her "cooperation" - and that for their sake, she'd better be REALLY nice to Harvey. After he said that, he got this odd look in his eyes that Renee didn't like at all - and in that moment, she realized that *both* personalities were .interested - but the Harvey part of him was a gentleman, in his cracked way about it - Two-Face wasn't. The Two-Face personality next told her, with a lot of glee in voice and face that Harvey was hiding out and not "seeing" what was going on right now - and that he could do anything that he wanted to do to her.

And then he moved toward Renee with all the grace of a panther stalking prey. She realized his intent a little too late, and fought, but he overwhelmed her.

The memories of the next few hours were still a little blurry for Renee, mercifully. She really wasn't ready to remember what happened there; to this day she still avoided that section of the courthouse, for the memories it brought up.

After he'd dressed himself and covered her now naked and shivering body with the quilt on her bed, Two-Face turned back to her and said two things: he'd be coming back to her again - and if she talked to the Harvey personality about it, fought him or objected in any way, her parents and Benny would suffer the consequences.

And, true to his promise, Two-Face came back. She endured him, at first, knowing that at least her parents and Benny didn't have to witness her humiliation - then Two-Face made the decision to move her brother down to the opposite end of the cell block - close enough to hear and despair that he couldn't help his sister fight him off.

Harvey seemed to truly be unaware that his alter-ego was harming Renee in any way - he even seemed to go out of his way to be gentlemanly and courteous. The cells were kept spotlessly clean; he would go out of his way to bring the best the NML had to offer for Renee and her family.

But, after the end of his trial for Jim Gordon, when faced with the choice of letting her go or continuing to keep her captive, Harvey opted to let her go - after defending Gordon - and surrendered into her hands.

Shortly after the ordeal was over, Renee had been getting ill a lot especially in the mornings, so she made a journey to Dr. Leslie Thompson's clinic. Doctor Thompson confirmed that she was right in her suspicions - she was pregnant, about 6 weeks. She had a hard decision to make - have the child and keep it, have the child and give it up for adoption, or abort the child. She was a lapsed Catholic and somewhat neutral on the subject of abortion, but abortion didn't seem to be the right decision for her at this time. She also felt that having the child and keeping it would be a very bad idea - she would see its father in its face, and she would not be able to forget what happened to her and go on with her life. That left giving the child up for adoption.

Renee mentioned her pregnancy to no one - except Dr. Thompkins, while she decided with whom to place the child.

But the decision was taken out of her hands about a week later - the day the Joker killed Sarah Essen-Gordon; that night - still reeling from the shock - Renee began cramping up and barely made it to Dr. Leslie's office; about 2 hours later, she'd lost the baby; fate made the decision for her.

After the NML concluded, Renee was so busy helping set her city to rights, that she had little time to think about what she'd lost; even Jim Gordon's - and now her own relations - with the Batman were mended, and they went back to the business of protecting their city. She had never really mentioned the pregnancy to anyone at all - and she planned NEVER to tell Harvey or Two-Face of the lost child- she was truly afraid of what might happen then.

She went out of her way to avoid Harvey AND Two-Face - and to the credit of the Two-Face personality, it actually seemed . ashamed of what it had done to her and wanted to make it up to her in some way - and if either personality was aware she was nearby or called to one of his crime scenes, "they" would just leave and not engage the police, often with no warning.

-~-

Renee - when she thought about it at all - felt like in their ways, Two- Face and Batman were more and more two sides of the same coin.

Both had two faces that they showed to the world; both were in some way - or they *had* been - honorable men and they were like the heads and tails of the same coin - perhaps with a little pushing one way, Two-Face might not have gone to evil - and by that same toss of the coin, the Batman might not have gone to the side of the angels?

Ironically enough, perhaps a toss of the coin of fate - or luck - made each what they became.

-~-

But, right here and now, Renee finally allowed herself to grieve - for the things she'd lost during the NML - her heart, to the bit of good she'd seen in Harvey; her illusions - of safety in particular, and most especially her innocence.

And the crumpled and tear-stained card that had fallen unnoticed to the floor where she sat, still crying softly, symbolized that time of her life and especially her losses in ways that the sender never imagined.

-fin-

comments

Catharsis - A Witchblade (TV Series)/Real World crossover.

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 04:14:59 GMT

Author's Note, 07-04-2009:

This story that I wrote four days after 9-11 happened in the US is still one of my most reviewed fics. People seem to enjoy the Trinity fics - but this one seemed to just hit the reviewers right in the heart. It reminds me of that day, and it's still hard for me to read it even though I wrote it.

*****
Original Author's Note:

Okay, folks, this is MY bit of ...vent about the WTC/Pentagon tragedy and one way to express how I feel about it. It's not canon, really, it's a reality I wish I was just dreaming, especially to see it TWICE in one life - I was in OKC for the Murrah Bombing, and how I feel now really isn't that different from how I felt then.

To all the families of the New York City and the families of the Pentagon missing. Our hearts are with you all now and in the future. And, also, to Oklahoma City - those of us who saw, lived through and tried to aid with the Murrah disaster are surely having deja vu - I know *I* prayed to never see this again, ever...

Catharsis

By

Tracey Claybon

~*~*~*~*~

Usual disclaimers - I don't own the characters of Witchblade, TNT, Top Cow/Marc Silvestri and Image do.

*No* disrespect is intended to the victims of this unfathomably horrible tragedy, this is just to express my abject sorrow at the senselessness of the event, and the events depicted here are not meant to depict any particular event that has recently happened.

This is also dedicated to the other major heroes of the WTC/Pentagon tragedy - the firemen, paramedics and police officers who worked to help the victims and fight day in and day out to keep us all safe and healthy in all of our cities.

Thanks to all of you.

* - phone conversation
:: - thoughts

Tuesday Morning, 10.30am

Sara was awakened from a cold, cramped sleep on her loft's beaten up couch by the ringing of her cell phone.

*Hello, Sara.*

Sara, exhausted from working on a particularly tough set of cases this week, was not happy to hear from anyone having anything to do with Kenneth Irons today- not even his sometimes helpful henchman.

"Nottingham? Why are you calling me at 10:30am in the morning on my day off?"

*Turn on your TV, Sara, and you'll know why I called.* Nottingham's voice lacked the usual sarcasm and humor she'd come to associate with his phone calls. The normally cool, unflappable, seen-it-all assassin actually sounded ... rattled. *Please, Sara, for once, no banter. Just turn on your TV.*

:: He said ... "Please." _Nottingham_ said "please". WHAT'S GOING ON?!::

Sara turned on her TV.

The first thing she saw on screen was the famous Manhattan skyline, but something wasn't there. There was smoke where there hadn't been any before. After a moment, she realized what wasn't there any more...

::Gone. Oh, my God, the WTC is GONE. What the Hell happened?::

* I know you're shocked, right now, Sara, so am I, but you're needed at the site of the disaster. I'm driving a car to the site, I have some medical training and will try to help, also - they need all that can right now.*

"What about your boss, Kenneth Irons?"

*He is donating all of Vorschlag's resources to try to help with this situation. He's no one's angel, but even he wouldn't commit an act such as this, and he loves this city after his own fashion and wishes to aid in this situation.*.

*Hurry, time is precious. Dress, quickly. Bring a flashlight, sunglasses, bottled water if you have it and a bandanna, it's dusty and dark out here.*

Sara shrugged off her exhaustion and quickly pulled on sturdy jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, then grabbed a backpack from the floor of her kitchen. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the items Ian had suggested, along with a few power bars, a black and a blue sharpie, a note pad of paper, and her badge. She also made a point of wolfing down the remains of a cold breakfast that had been hot when she conked out, and cold coffee that she'd made to go with that hot breakfast. Who knew when she'd get to eat anything again - or possibly, want to?

She dashed out of her apartment, down to the street, where a slightly pale Ian waited in an idling dark blue BMW at the curb.

Ian said, " Mr. Irons wanted me to tell you that 'for once, there *is* no conflict between us. We _New Yorkers_ and Americans need to work together in common cause. This tragedy didn't recognize differences in race, creed or religion here. White, African-American, Hispanic-Americans, and Asians, Christians, Muslims, Jews, Pagans, men and women, foreign and domestic - we all lost here. I want to do what I can to help the situation, and maybe later, go after the monster or monsters who committed this act.'

It took them about 4 hours to make a drive that normally took 45 minutes at the most. Sara was struck most by two things - the silence, and the expressions of shock, fear, and confusion on the faces of the people she saw on the way to the spot where the World Trade Center once stood.

They passed through 3 checkpoints on the way there - each time, Sara showed her badge, and Ian produced (obviously) legitimate medical credentials. Ian cautioned Sara to pull the bandanna she'd brought with her over her face for a mask. When they stopped at the site, they got out of the blue car, and Sara just stopped a moment and stared.

Where a pair of towers of glass and steel once challenged the sky, there was now just a pile of rubble you could see the afternoon sunlight over. It was ....surreal, like a waking dream. Already aiding with the effort to save the individuals trapped here, she saw Captain Dante, Jake, and many,. many others, covered in gray dust, doing what they could to rescue people. She saw a familiar looking older man with blond hair in a fireman's uniform, helping with evacuations in one of the surrounding buildings. She even saw Danny for a moment, comforting a indistinct shape that she knew was an individual who had just passed on.

Sara abruptly just started to cry... Ian walked over, quickly embracing her in a hug; she could feel him hugging her hard and shaking, himself. But, after a moment or two, they knew they had to get on with the business of helping to retrieve anyone who might have lived from the remains of the once-great building. Ian dried her tears, and his own, and they pulled themselves together, turning to start what was certainly going to be a long, hard battle for the lives of diverse New Yorkers- that, for once, had nothing to do with the Witchblade.

-FIN-

comments

Trinity - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 04:04:58 GMT

Author's Notes:

This one is dedicated to the individuals interviewed for the By Word of Mouth (1987) project that I did for my senior high school English project, and Virginia Havard, the teacher who originated the project. By Word of Mouth was a book of interviews of individuals known to the students or residing in the area from both sides of the conflicts of WWII on their experiences during the war.

There was an earlier project dealing with the Great Depression, two later books dealing with Viet Nam and Korea, respectively, and the remaining books dealt with decades of time as lived by East Texas residents.

I'm drawing from the atmosphere of the WWII project for this one, but borrowing the "reactions" of American veterans from both the WWII and Viet Nam wars for this story.

Takes place post Our Worlds At War events.

As usual - I don't own Clark, Diana, Bruce or any other characters mentioned here; I'm just playing with DC's toys in a not-for-profit way and will put them back neatly when I'm done.

The location of Mesa AZ as cited here may be slightly off, but the local bars, museums, etc. mentioned are (at the time I wrote this circa 2001) real (and real COOL) local places. The events cited for them are fictional. Apologies for any inaccuracies, I'm new to the area. :-)

This is Batman's POV.
***

Trinity: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

By

Tracey Claybon

---

"And we would all go down together,
We said we'd all go down together..."

"Goodnight Saigon" - Billy Joel

"All those who remember the war,
They won't forget what they've seen,
Destruction, of men in their prime,
Whose average age was 19."

"19", Paul Hardcastle

---

I sat in the Batcave's nerve center, stunned and shocked from the information I'd just received from Oracle's debriefing on the alien war occurring off-planet. I now knew that Diana and Clark had just come back planetside; I also knew now, due to Oracle's report, that Orin and John Henry, the Kents, Hippolyta, and various others were dead or missing and presumed dead. I knew from experience that the first step to coping with grief was to get it out in the open, and that my ... friends are not used to the peculiar grief that losing parents and loved ones in wartime will bring them, even if they were the most powerful individuals on the planet.

I also had my own recent losses to deal with, and for once, I decided to listen when Leslie told me to take some down time. The look of absolute shock on her face when I agreed with her should be preserved for posterity. The looks of surprise on the faces of my allies when I asked them to patrol Gotham while I'd be gone was even MORE gratifying.

Never let it be said that I don't occasionally do the unexpected. It keeps your allies AND your enemies guessing.

So, I decided to propose a quiet meeting incognito, in a town none of our alter egos frequents.

I suggested Phoenix, AZ, a remote, quiet city. It's not the usual hotbed of metahuman activity that our respective cities were.

Since we were to be gone from Gotham for about two weeks, I asked Azrael and Batgirl to cover Gotham, signed all the appropriate paperwork for Lucius Fox to assume complete command of Wayne Enterprises for one week, asked Troia to cover Wonder Woman's territory, called the Daily Planet to cover Kent's absence by informing them of an exclusive on a new Wayne Tech nanotech marvel, to be mass-produced in Metropolis and I'd asked for Clark Kent (since he was a long time contact) to do an exclusive in-depth story on the subject - and asked Alpha Centurion to cover Metropolis in Superman's absence. Lois was the only non-hero to know what was truly going on, and she would never tell - besides, she was quite worried about Clark...

Diana and Clark agreed. Neither was in their normally optimistic, upbeat mood...

I had registered us in false names, to give us some semblance of "privacy" from our normal alter egos. I was Bruce Thomasson, Clark was Kent Josephs, and Diana was Diana Royals. We had two suites of three rooms each in a high end moderately priced hotel in the city of Mesa, just to the north side of the city. It was the end of the monsoon season, so although it was very hot to one used to the more moderated temperatures of Gotham, Gateway City and Metropolis, it was a psychological difference big enough where we would have to deal with our issues instead of putting them aside to keep our respective cities safe.

The heat actually bothered me less than most new to Phoenix - that is one good thing that wearing heavy black kevlar, armoring and rubber padding for about 13 years has done for me. I'm fairly sure it bothered Diana and Clark not at all, either.

As the first three days passed, none of us talked about the deeper issues. We talked of the commonplaces and bits of friendly gossip that friends of any stripe talk about.

During our days, we were tourists, roaming the malls, old town shopping areas and restaurants of Phoenix. A particular standout was the Rainforest Cafe, in the Arizona Mills Mall, and I was considering asking them to come to Gotham's newest Mayfair shopping district, which had sprung up where the Mayfair market had been during the NML.

During those first nights, the three of us went to various local events or clubs, such as the famous comedian performing at the local Improv, and the local Chinese cultural museum, which was having an exhibit of rare Chinese artifacts, and a premiere of an very talented local band at the Hard Rock Cafe, a charming pub called the Blarney Stone that had excellent beer and food - and especially sublime Celtic music; and a club that Dick would have liked called Polly Esther's that had a 70s and 80s theme and a very friendly, all-ages crowd.

I found myself much more relaxed, because I wasn't in Gotham; in Gotham, I'd have had one ear on Oracle's scanners, alert at all times for trouble. I didn't want to get too used to this - but it was a nice break from the norm, and I knew Gotham was in good hands.

During the fourth night, however, we returned from our excursions, quiet and pensive. Over the years, there had been so little space between battles, wars and weirdnesses that none of us had really had time to think in anything but active, battle mode. The enforced non-activity was finally having curative effects on us all.

We were seated and relaxed in the cool air-conditioned comfort of the living suite between Clark's and my own room, talking and sipping cool drinks. after a long and hot day, when Clark started to talk about all he'd seen during the alien war, and especially about finding John Henry's body. He talked about the agony he felt, not only for the loss of one of his better friends and companions in war, but also for knowing that he would have to tell John Henry's niece, Natasha, about how he died, and knowing that nothing he could say after that could alleviate her pain. He talked about the guilt of not being able to be in 50 places at once, and of having the knowledge that even though he was *Superman* and capable of astounding things just by existing- even he could achieve the impossible.

Diana and I each reached out to hold on to Clark, first by the hands, and then, as he continued, we embraced him from either side, just there to listen and later, grieve with him.

After that, his words tumbled over each other in their haste to get to the ears of those who understood him best, save his wife and lover Lois.

Clark's walls truly fell as he talked for the next 13 hours, with a few interruptions - he addressed his greatest fears where the three of us were concerned. He talked about how he'd felt when he thought that Diana died during the war, and before, when she died and became the goddess of Truth; he also talked about what happened during the time when Jean-Paul replaced me as Batman, and his fears for me as a non-powered individual. He talked of his fears for all of his loved ones in Metropolis and Kansas. He talked of the horrors and destruction he'd seen that the war caused, the all-too-young men and women who died. He also talked of a change in costume he was thinking of making...

And then, the surprises continued. Clark, who in many ways was the heart, soul and spirit of our threesome, and the JLA, broke down and cried in a way I recognized, because I'd seen it - in the mirror the night after my parents, after Jason died. He'd reached the mental breaking point that so many war veterans who've seen too many atrocities and horrors reach and come away forever changed from on the other side - and they don't always come out of it whole - because they usually go through it alone.

Clark wasn't alone. He had Diana and me.

We slept close by one another, hands held together, for a few scant hours. After we ordered in pizza, we continued on, knowing that to leave would break the healing we all desperately needed.

Over the next 11 hours, it was Diana's turn to talk, and cry about what had happened for her during the alien war; she had the death of her mother, and possibly the destruction of her old home and inhabitants to cope with - but since she was not as ...innocent to loss... as Clark, she would in all likely fashion, not take as long to "bounce back" from all save the death of her mother. That pain could only be lessened by time.

This time, Clark and I held her in supporting embrace as she spoke and sobbed out the agony, pain and fear she'd felt through all of this. And, as with Clark previously, we were there to listen, to grieve and to support her when she most needed our strength.

And, then, it was my turn.

I told them of watching in horror as where my lover Selina had just been standing a scant moment before erupted into the fires of a Hell I had all too intimate knowledge of.

Then, to my surprise, I found myself speaking at length of the fears that gripped me, of the time when I was no longer part of the JLA, of the NML, the Cataclysm, Jason's death, and most shocking of all to me, of my own parents' deaths. I told Clark and Diana things that I'd only told to Alfred and Leslie - and then I told them things I'd never told ANYONE, ever. To my own surprise, *I* started to cry, and just as I had for Clark and Diana before, two pairs of strong arms surrounded and supported me as I shook with tears I should have shed long ago.

When I was done, the three of us were curled on the floor, as we had been before, close, and supportive. My head was pillowed on Diana's shoulder; Clark had a companionable hand on my shoulder and was also nearby. I remember feeling a light, warm feeling of that elusive thing called peace, and then I realized something as I was in that state of serenity.

I realized that sharing that burden of grief with Clark and Diana didn't lessen my dedication to justice one inch. I was still as dedicated as I had always been to my one-man battle for justice. But, the pain I'd lived with for more than 25 years was now strengthened to a resolve that made my battle even more worthwhile to me. And, by aiding my friends in moving on after their respective traumatic experiences, I'd helped to make our friendship together that much more strong.

I remember that once, I'd said that because the Batman was forged in the fires of hard decisions and difficult choices, I understood when Diana was forced to make a hard moral decision and sacrifice to prevent the deaths of many people.

At the time, Clark didn't understand why she made the decision she did.

Then, Clark hadn't yet gone through the crucible. Thanks to this little war, he has now. Since Diana and I have been through this already, we will help him cope with what he has now become, and help him come out of the other side of this capable and ready to go on.

Once, I'd said that I hoped I could be their anchor when they needed me. I think that now, at this time I am that anchor. I also think, after this breathing space and after all that's occurred, that our friendship can only continue to improve like a fine wine does over the years.

During the remains of the two week hiatus we took, we went mountain climbing, saw the Grand Canyon, drank toasts to the memories of all our fallen, went to an amusement park, and even went to Las Vegas, Nevada, where Diana won a fair amount playing poker and blackjack.

I'm rather proud of her, I taught her everything I know - and she succeeded gloriously, beyond my fondest expectations... maybe I should teach her baccarat, next...!

Clark, on the other hand, won a bit at the roulette wheel and slot machines, and the money we all won we took and donated to a Phoenix disadvantaged youth shelter anonymously.

We said our goodbyes at the end of the two weeks and parted ways at the Phoenix airport, each rededicated to their mission of justice, and able to go on in honor of those who fell.

And, may we three friends and companions go on, together and stronger than ever.

-FIN-

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Volkswagens and Porsches (DC-verse, Batman comic canon with a little BTAS/BB tossed in)

Wed, 03 Jun 2009 06:05:30 GMT

The story is posted in its original format.

Volkswagens and Porsches (DC-verse, Batman comic canon with a little BTAS/BB tossed in)
Characters: Batgirl mostly, with a mention of other Batverse characters.

2009 Disclaimers: Batgirl/Oracle/Barbara Gordon and any mentioned DC Universe characters belong to Warner Brother and DC - not me.
This is a reposting of a fan fiction story I first put on Fanfiction.net a long time ago.

2009 Author's note: This story is dedicated to a e-friend, long gone now, named Peggie Farmery. She wrote the best "young Bruce Wayne" interacting with Alfred Pennyworth and Dr. Leslie Thompson; she began writing fan fiction right after a major accident where - like my mother had when I was 8 years old - she lost the ability to write and read, and had to relearn all her skills from the beginning.

My mom played Scrabble to re-learn how to spell; Peggie relearned spelling and grammar by writing fan fiction.

I reviewed a story she wrote, she reviewed this story, and we corresponded until her death almost 10 years ago now when she had a relapse of some vascular complications and died way too early. In the time I knew her - she lived; she returned to about 85% of original function, got married, and lived independently again.

I miss her terribly, even now. All over again, this story is dedicated to her and to those who never give up and never give in.

***

Volkswagens and Porsches

As usual - I don't own Oracle or Nightwing, I'm just playing with DC's toys in a not-for-profit way and will put them back neatly when I'm done.

---

The full saying that the title is based on comes from a Physics teacher and professor I had in high school; he told me the following when I was struggling to grasp some abstract concepts and it seemed like everybody else in class got it and I couldn't:

There are the people in life who are like Porsches - they're bright and flashy, they seem to get everything - and the best of everything, too - always faster than people like you - the Volkswagens of life. You're not flashy; you tend to move a little slowly - but surely.

Porsches may go faster on the level roads of life, but it's the Volkwagens that can a) climb the mountains and b) they're usually still running even after the Porsches sputter and die. You're the ones that really accomplish everything in life at the end of it all.

---

Having said that mouthful, I see Barbara Gordon like a Volkswagen - she's not slow at all - but she keeps going with incredible courage after all that's happened to her in the DC world.

This vignette's dedicated to those who keep trying no matter what the odds are, those who go on despite everything that happens to them, to Peggie on and my mom, who are the embodiment of that in the real world, and to Dr. Springfield, who first gave me the story of the cars of life and gave me the encouragement I needed to go on. And, also to myself - I keep trying too.

---

The members of the Kane Memorial Hospital are mine, except for Barbara; any other Bat or other DC characters mentioned here are the property of their creators and DC.

Bonni is based partly on my mom, partly on others in the disabled community I've come to know since my mom had her stroke 20 years ago.

Volkswagens and Porsches

Tracey Claybon

I wheeled myself into the weekly group session for ex-patients of the Kane Memorial Hospital who were paralyzed or disabled; I had originally objected to going to the sessions; but after attending the first couple of times, I came to understand and then endorse going; I learned here that I could go on after what the Joker did to me.

I greeted Bonni, a 50-year-old stroke survivor that had been assigned to me after I was paralyzed as a mentor. Bonni was in great spirits today; her face was split with a huge, slightly lopsided grin, and she was waving a piece of paper in her right hand excitedly.

"Barbara! Barbara! I *got* the JOB!"

"That's GREAT!" I said.

"They'll be sending a IT crew over to help me set my computer up with the software I'll need to telecommute! I already had the hand controls, I just needed the software for the Bosc Pear! I had to upgrade to Bartlett OS 8.8, though..."

"You and your Bosc! Give me DLL files and Curtains4ME any day!!" I quipped back.

Bonni and I made our way to the meeting room, arguing good-naturedly about computer operating systems for the next 10 minutes, while the monthly meeting was set up for us. Rina, Joe ,and Kim, other friends of mine in the group, joined in our conversation; when the meeting commenced, I noticed a new person in the group.

He introduced himself as Rick. He only said that he was here because he'd been sent here by the doctors; I learned later that he'd been a high school football star quarterback paralyzed from the chest down when a tackle went horribly wrong during the Gotham High Knights' homecoming game; he'd fractured his spine when he fell wrong.

The anger and pain in his voice as he railed at the injustice of the injuries that brought him here took me back to the days right after I started PT after coming out of my coma. I remembered the days of endless frustration, of remembering what it was like to walk, to run, to lay out a perp with a good hard kick - and then - comparing that with not feeling anything at all below my belly button now.

I remembered wishing that some benevolent God would come and rewind my life back to the moments just before the Joker came through that door and when I was able to do so many more things without anyone else's aid that I, at the time, took for granted.

But, then, I also remembered that in those early days of frustration and misery that Bonni was there to tell me that, yes, things weren't as they once were - and that I had to deal with that and go on.

To not go on was to accept it passively and give a victory to the pain and (in my mind) the Joker, too. And also, no matter what, to become - like a story she told me the first day we met - like a Volkswagen - keep chugging away, fight for every accomplishment and every inch I could gain - and never give up.

She'd told me a story about Volkwagens and Porsches - and she told me that I might have been a Porsche once - but now I must become a Volkwagen and live and fight for every moment.

She lived what she was telling me too - she'd gone back to school after her stroke, acquired a new degree in computer science, although she had needed help learning how to spell, write , speak, talk and walk after her stroke.

She'd had an aneurysm and stroke at a young age - she was only 32 when she had it, and had had a young daughter that began to see Bonni's mother as more of a parent after Bonni's stroke; the relationship between mother and daughter had been strained for a long time, but now that her daughter was grown, they were starting to have more of a relationship together.

I thought about what she'd said to me that first day, went home from there, and out of that "Volkswagen mentality" came the Oracle, who sees all and knows all and sends agents out to do good works, who is the heart and nerve center for the Batman and his battle companions, for the JLA, and for so many others.

It's ironic to me that I accomplished a lot as Batgirl - but that I've accomplished so very much more and done so much more good as the Oracle. I might even manage one day to tell a certain Dick Grayson how I really feel about him - but like coping with being in this chair, I needed - and I still need - time. I will one day.

I think I'll be the mentor for Rick. I think I'll start by telling him a little story about cars.

-FIN-

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Trinity - Reflections on Truth

Sun, 31 May 2009 06:51:33 GMT

Trinity - Reflections on Truth

Tracey Claybon

Usual Disclaimers - They're DC's and not my own...

Source material and references: There are isolated phrases and quotes from the Gods of Gotham Wonder Woman comic, story by Phil Jimenez. FYI, I like Jimenez's work so far, it's worth checking out!

There are also references to the Tower of Babel JLA storyline and previous "events" cited in my prior Trinity stories.

And now to this story...

---

I reread the entry I'd made right after I'd found out Bruce made the JLA protocols to neutralize us that Ra's al Ghul used so successfully against us months ago, and I had to reflect back.

Once I believed I could never trust Batman again, in battle or otherwise.

I was wrong. We - the JLA, K- *Clark* and I ... *I* - ...need Batman. I should have realized he would create the protocols in the first place. I've known him too well and for too long - to have doubted him or his judgment the way that I have. I should have remembered the most important thing about him is not that he's a 'paranoid maniac' as his worst detractors have called him - but *why* he is what he is - and that he may have seen truths that I couldn't - or didn't want to - admit to myself.

He showed me that I was more like him than I'd ever realized when I had the relationship with Alcmaeon; and that he had unshakeable faith in me and my judgment. He cemented that trust when the situation we had with the gods of fear, discord and terror came to Gotham. He made all the truths between us crystal clear, and it was almost too much to cope with - but I bore it and am better for it.

I sometimes forget that no matter what philosophical differences I may have with Bruce - he has never lied to me - even when the truth is sometimes more than I can at that time bear - or don't want to hear at the time. He doesn't lie to me, or to anyone, most especially himself - *ever.*

At the heart of the Bat is a terrified little boy who didn't just want his parents back again - he didn't want anyone else to suffer the agony of watching your whole world crumble at your feet as he did. As he became a man, he determined to do what so few who have been damaged by crime, by tragedy, or by evil ever do - he took his fears and conquered them, then went a step further and became a warriorto fight against the evils that took the lives of his parents.

Perhaps, the need to create protocols to take the metahumans of the JLA out in case we went rogue was to him the ultimate truth and the ultimate defense - any power can corrupt without limits, and measures should be set in place to counter it so that the good of so many may be preserved. I learned from Clark later that Bruce had created these fail-safes not just against the JLA, but also against himself. He wanted to be sure that if even *he* abused the power and trust given to his hands, he could be neutralized for the good of all.

In the end, the only way to stand strong and tall in life is to stand up to bullies and to people who abuse power. His protocols were his way of giving the "little guy" - the common man - a way to win if we of the JLA, or Clark, or myself - ever did abuse the power and trust we were given. I have to understand that sentiment, and because I now understand *why* he did as he did, I have forgiven him and asked him to forgive me.

Clark, Bruce and I are now actually closer than we once were. Someone once said that hard times show you who your true friends are, and tests the strength of all friendships. Our friendship is stronger still because of the events that have just occurred.

Now that I know the truth and the mettle of my friends and battle-companions, I have no doubt that the three of us in particular truly can weather any storms now.

Not very long ago, Bruce said to me that he didn't need faith when he had me... I know he truly trusts very few and it is hard-won when it happens. I would like to hope that I have enough "faith" for the both of us, at least until he can find that faith in something more. I do hope that he does - but even if he doesn't, it is enough for me that he has the closest thing to belief in those he cares for that he would die to prevent all of us from coming to harm. He would lay down his life for Alfred, James Gordon, Dick, Oracle, Batgirl, Azrael and Robin, for Clark, J'onn, Orin and I, and for any other life he could save if it were asked. He'd never admit that he cares in so many words, but his actions speak volumes.

I was surprised that he said that he was worried when I'd died because of the hope he felt I brought to my teammates, friends and companions; it's been a while since he has been anything but terse since we expelled him from the JLA, then reinstated him, and prior to that he was almost overwhelmed by the earthquake and No Man's Land edict in Gotham; it was also good to see the quiet humor that was present a lot more before his previous Robin was killed. I hope that he finds a path again to that "faith" through that so-rarely seen humor.

It's really a thing of great irony - my feelings for Clark are now crystal clear after a lot of soul searching - I love Clark- but as my very best friend and like a brother, were I to ever have one. That's for the best - Lois is the true love of his heart, and I have to admit that if I were to pick the perfect mate for him, she would be the exact image I would choose.

Bruce, on the other hand, represents many things to me - but most importantly a hope and a truth that defies words. I love him as intensely as I do Clark - but it's different in ways I couldn't begin to describe. I think it's because we are much more alike than we'd like in so many ways - and so different so many others, especially approach. But for all that, I trust him with my life and honor even more than I did before the Tower Of Babel affair, and I understand what he is and represents even more than Clark does.

No matter what happens between us in the future, I know that he will give me the truth and the strength that that truth conveys to me without fail, and that his friendship is as solid as Mount Olympus.

He said during the battle with the gods in Gotham that he didn't need faith when he had me. I'd like to think that I will have enough faith for the both of us till he finds his own.

But, maybe he already has - he has faith in his proteges and allies, in the few individuals - J'onn, Clark, James Gordon, and myself - that he truly trusts, and, most importantly, he has faith in HIMSELF.

And, maybe, in the end, that's one of the most important faiths of any that have EVER existed.

-fin-

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Trinity - Deepest Secrets

Sun, 31 May 2009 06:48:30 GMT

Story #2, Trinity series.

Story has a few minor fixes enacted.

***

Trinity - Deepest Secrets

Tracey Claybon

-----

All the usual disclaimers apply here. I don't own 'em and please don't sue me - no copyright infringement is intended and I'm not making a dime from this. It's written out of love and respect for the characters contained within.

Again, this is partly based on Trinity, the Eric Luke story from WW 141 - 2, "Redemption", a story from Superman - 80 Page Giant #2 and Legends of the DC Universe 29 - 31. This is Superman's take on things.

-----

I rated this one "R" due to somewhat graphic adult descriptions of sexual fantasy and also adult situations alluded to here.

-----

A deep baritone spoke the words "Recorder off" in a language that had died explosively and abruptly about 35 Earth years before the speaker recorded the message...

"Replay message." As he voiced the command, a small holographic image of himself appeared and began repeating in Kryptonian the message he had just finished recording.

He stood quietly reviewing the message, alert for any emergency beacons, sirens, or any other klaxons or alarms that might call him back to duty at any moment.

He'd recorded the message here, in his native world's language, in order to have one private, personal diary where he could write, not for the eyes of others as he did on a daily basis for the deadlines and demands of the Daily Planet and its readers, or anyone else, friends or foes, but for his own eyes.

Unlike the protocols of Batman, which had been used to such nearly fatal effect a few weeks ago, these were both encrypted and written in a language that no one from Earth had ever spoken, in order to guard his secrets well, they were also designed with a particularly nasty combined worm and trojan horse program made to damage even highly advanced systems that attempted to phreak the information away; He, Hourman,J'onn, and Oracle - when she was still speaking to him - had designed it together, combining DC10K advances and the best of Martian and Kryptonian technology with the very best "modern" hacking and cracking detection and destruction techniques, and even Brainiac or Solaris probably would not have been able to crack the knowledge contained in this chronicle without significant damage to themselves and total destruction of the information contained in the files.

-----

I was too late.

There was nothing I could do, nothing I could say to stop you from going to Alcmaeon, no way to stop you from making the only choice you could make, because of your mission.

All I could see during the battle was you. With *him*. All I could imagine was you touching him, your hands caressing his body, the taste of you on HIS lips.

And not MINE.

The ... absolute, utter JEALOUSY - and *PAIN* that I felt about your decision - would have shown in my eyes had I looked at you tonight. I still feel it now.

I have NO right to feel this way, and I almost despise myself for that.

I love my wife, my Lois.

We've fought for each other, worked hard to keep our union strong and each other safe, been literally to and through hell and back and we made it because of our undying love for each other.

And yet, I share something with you that I can never share with her.

You and I - and also Bruce - share a bond that is eternal and unbreakable that I believe might endure throughout the ages and years. We share the secret of the dream Oblivion created that we shared. Even though right now, we are divided, Bruce and I by the Babel affair, and you and I by this, we are still bound by that bond even now, and I think we may yet resolve all of this if it's at all possible.

In that dream, I did all the things I can only imagine now and am not now free to do... most of all, I had the freedom to love you in the dream as a man loves his mate, closest friend, the other half of his soul...

But wait...

...That's what Lois is for me, also - but in such a different way. And, yet...

I did what I so rarely ever do.

I lied to you.

You, of all people.

When my deepest secret was laid bare for you and I to see that day in the WonderDome, I said that it wasn't you, that it was Lois. You turned away from me and "agreed" with me - but not before I saw the expression of absolute sadness on your beautiful face.

You agreed with me because you knew my honor would never let me say how I truly feel about you. That I cannot reconcile how I feel for you with how I feel about Lois because I believe marriage and commitment is FOREVER. I can't betray her because I love her SO much, and I can't betray that belief, that foundation of all I believe and am. I knew you were aware of this; I also know that the knowledge was yet another knife in your heart to match the one of knowledge that I loved you in the same way and can never express or acknowledge that love, which stands alongside that bond the three of us share.

I know in my heart that you love me as more than just my dearest, closest friend, more than family; I have always known. I've been tempted more than you know and realize by that knowledge. During our adventure together in Asgard, there were so many times that I wanted to reach out and pull you close and never let go, ever - but honor bound me then as it does now, and deep in my heart I knew that I never would.

Despite all this, I can't help wishing that if it had been anyone, it could have been ME.

And I can NEVER let you know this. Ever.

But I think you already do.

-----

I've just lost Bruce due to this Tower of Babel affair, and now I'm losing you too.

You were right.

I should have trusted you more. I should have remembered the foundation you stand on - your mission.

But when all the dust settles, although I can hear atoms crashing together, although I am stronger than just about anyone else that has ever been on this planet, mortal or otherwise - in my heart, I'm just a man. In my heart, I'm human, even though I am anything but in actuality.

And because I am humanat heart, I have my failings.

One of my biggest regrets and failings is that I love someone I can never have and can never express love for, because I am not free to, and will never be. Even if she died tomorrow there will never, can never be another in my life like my Lois.

...Perhaps if I had met *you* first...

But I didn't.

And I will *never* in this reality know what Alcmaeon knew - what you tasted like, the scent of your hair, the silk of your skin beneath my hands, the little sounds and the screams of your pleasure, and the look of total ecstasy on your face as you learned anew just what the heaven lovers reach looks like...

...In every possible way, I was too late.

I don't know if I will ever forget - or get over that.

Not now, or in a billion years.

*That's* my deepest secret. That's one even your WonderDome couldn't even begin to show me, you or any other, living, dead, mortal or immortal.

And it will remain my deepest secret, right here.

----

*End journal entry, October 15, 2000 AD, Antarctic time 10 pm*, his computer intoned emotionlessly.

"Encryption code Krypto-Van-el-Kara-23." Kal-El, also known to a few as Clark Kent and to the world at large as Superman, concluded his message and turned and walked toward the door of his Fortress of Solitude.

The look on his handsome face was heartbreakingly sad. He knew, however, that any tears that fell now or in the next few moments would either fall unnoticed and freeze here, or evaporate in the wake of his flight away from the Fortress, and once he arrived back in Metropolis - or in any location that happened to need him at that time - all traces of what he felt right now would not show, except deep in his heart, where all but one or two could not see.

Shortly, he would leave this piece of himself here, but in the meantime, this secret had a moment's light and buoyancy here in this place. And this place of absolute solitude was where it must remain.

-Fin-

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Trinity - Anchor

Sun, 31 May 2009 06:37:07 GMT

Author's note:

This is the first part of my Trinity verse series, set in the DC universe. Timeline is pre-52, post Final Night.

This was the first of the Trinity stories. Complete part.

***
Original Author's Note

Innocence cannot last forever. But true friends and true friendship often does and will. Without the anchor of true friends and friendship, we're like boats without anchors - we drift aimlessly, with nowhere to rest and be still, even for a short time.

I got the idea for this story partly inspired by WW 139 - 140 - "Trinity" by Eric Luke; partly from two pages of DC's Legends of the DC Universe #32
and also from staying up WAY too late on a Sunday night and reflecting back on the nature of friendship and also what it felt like to love someone from afar who had no clue at the time that I liked them as something more than friends - even though we'd been friends many years.

When Superman, Wonder Woman & Batman are referred to as the Trinity, it's always seemed to revolve around the relationship between Clark and Diana; scant attention is given to how Bruce feels about the two of them and that triangled relationship.

Here's MY spin on it...

As usual - This is a piece of fan fiction. I wrote the plot, but I do not own Batman, Superman, or Wonder Woman, I'm just playing with DC's toys in a not-for-profit way and will put them back neatly when I'm done. They are the property of DC and their respective creators.

Part one is general and not time specific. Part 2 takes place right after WW 139 - 140 - "Trinity" by Eric Luke (I miss his work already!); and Part 3 takes place on the heels of Legends of the DC Universe #32, which for my purposes takes place after JLA #46 (which I'm STILL a bit upset about :-( )

On with the show...

***
Trinity - Anchor
By TC

Sunlight. The moon surrounded by stars. Shadows.
The eagle, the lioness, the bat.
The Boy Scout, The Peacemaker, The Dark Knight.

Clark, Diana, and Bru... -Batm... - ... *Bruce.*

I so rarely think of myself as `Bruce` - the Batman is almost all that I am now... If it weren't for Alfred, Leslie, Dick, Barbara, Tim, Jean-Paul and Cassandra - I'd have succumbed to my darker side or died long ago. And, yet, they reached my humanity and help me keep what there is of it, after a fashion.

But, none of my Gotham family has shared with me what these two have. Diana and Clark complete something in me, and in turn I complete something in them.

Our companionship has endured through his and her deaths and my breaking; through the destruction and dissolution of the cities we have chosen - or been chosen - to protect; through the losses of those close to us, and through the creation and dissolution of many teams and incarnations of groups. The JLA. The Outsiders. The Justice League. We've endured through crisises, strangenesses that would have broken a lesser relationship and come out of it stronger for the testing.

Clark - the wholesome farm boy - represents the ultimate idealism. He is the embodiment of hope and of a belief in tomorrow - something I respect and at times envy. I can't stop looking at the past. In some ways, he is MY hope for the future, hope that it's possible to go on and continue despite anything. I'll never admit it to him but often his goading and sheer optimism - and caring for me that's so obvious even a blind man can see it - has kept me from completely giving in to the dark that always threatens to consume me. He's like the brother I should have had, or a me that should have been.

He has a dark side too, but it is so overshadowed by the light shining through around and out of him that it's a pale shadow, practically insignificant and almost invisible because of that light.

We are so alike but so very different in every way, and I look at him and see myself in a bright mirror. It almost frightens me.

And, then, there's Diana.

She is the ultimate warrior as well as a princess royal. The JLA knows to look to her first and foremost for battle wisdom that is unerringly true and keen; often her voice is the calm voice of reason when Clark and I are about to come to blows. She is the center around which we revolve and the anchor that keeps me in the light and Clark from having his light dimmed by the events that overtake him.

Despite the ageless wisdom she has, she is innocent to a point that frightens me at times - it frightens me and I envy it as much as or more than I envy Clark his normalcy and stability in his life and especially with Lois.

She is one of the most beautiful people on the planet or beyond. She is the kind of woman every other woman on the planet wishes she was and every man wishes he could have by his side.

Even I wish that, occasionally...

Talia, Shondra, Selina. All exceptional women. All exquisitely beautiful. All beloved - and loved - by me in myriad ways and for many reasons.

And yet not one of them holds a candle to her.

I trust her with my life. As I trust Clark, and maybe even more.
The Batman, who wrote the book on elusiveness and mistrust...

I trust her with my life and also my secrets.

It's ironic, they're the two strongest individuals in our world. I know their greatest weaknesses, I have both means and the know-how to defeat them if ever the situation were to arise to make it necessary; they are not only aware of them, but, I think, would expect me to do so. Neither of them is truly human - yet they hold more humanity than anyone I've ever known.

And yet I trust them with my deepest secrets as they have trusted me with theirs.

***

After the incident with her WonderDome in Gateway City, I knew she wouldn't listen when I said to jettison it to the heart of the Sun. I didn't expect her to.

But I wanted to try to reassure her in some way that all that was revealed in the shared dream we had was our secret to keep. And, also to let her know that SOME things don't change.

and, frankly, if I showed the care and concern for her and how she is hurt by all of this right now the way I WANT to, I'd surprise and maybe even alarm her in the process. I don't want to do that.

At least, I let her know that we will always be there to ensure she's never alone when she truly needs us. And I *will* be there.

I admit that watching Clark and Diana share a relationship was somewhat difficult for me - not just because of how Clark feels about her versus how he feels about his wife Lois, but also because in my way I've come to care about Diana too. The difference is that with the life I lead, the enemies I have and the darkness inside, I don't feel I have a right to act on my feelings. I find myself wishing, occasionally, in the deepest recesses of my soul, that she would look at me the way that she looks at Clark. Once would be enough.

It probably will never happen.

There's a running unspoken bet among the younger and newer members of the JLA as to when - or if - they'll ever give in to the obvious attraction that exists there. There are two others among us who don't or will not participate in the betting - J'onn, who knows each of us intimately and often better than we know ourselves; and Orin, who has known and respected Clark and Diana almost as long as I have, and who I know is nurturing a secret desire for Diana also - but like me, will not act because she seems to only see Clark...

The bet would never center on me because they think I'm a cold-hearted, logical-minded bastard. They are right. They are also wrong. I'm human and capable of loving like anyone else... Those I love seem to get hurt, though, so I don't let many get close. I don't wish to see a woman I love killed or irreversibly hurt because I loved them.

And because of that, I will not tell her how I feel.

But how I feel about her and about Clark is even more complicated than that.

If Clark is the light guardian of Justice and I am the dark guardian of Justice, she is the anchor that keeps us grounded and solid. Our relationship is like a three-stranded braid - put together we are stronger than any force that can divide us, and she - and how we both feel about her - is the center.

She's my anchor too.

Maybe, one day, I'll be able to return the favor.

***

Today, she came to me for help.

I believe that today, she lost a bit of that shining innocence and in the process, came to understand me better even than Clark. I didn't agree with the choice she made about Alcmaeon any more than Clark did, but I had faith in her. Even though we have recently ... not agreed ... due to that confrontation with R'as al-Ghul not all that long ago, she came to me and asked for my help - where the JLA wouldn't - or couldn't go.

Clark, for whatever reasons, failed to have that faith in her choices. I truly don't know why.

Maybe, because the Batman was forged in the fires of hard decisions and difficult choices, I understand. Clark, with all of his stability, has not yet gone through that particular fire. Now, for better or worse, Diana has.

I still wonder why she asked for my help when she was so angry before and said she didn't trust me... but I will give it - and anything else she might ask me for BECAUSE I believe in her.

I have a feeling I gave her that unquestioned faith when she needed it. I told her, that we now have the smallest piece of each other, and now we must live with it.

What will this mean for the three of us now?

I'm not sure, but I will be their anchor when they need me.

Even through all that has happened between us, that faith is still there, and I pray - as much as I pray or believe, to whatever benevolent Gods that may be listening - that it remains as long as we all live, and beyond.

FIN

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Finally - I have a site for fics and feedback!

Sun, 31 May 2009 04:01:19 GMT

The very first thing I'm posting here is a very big thank you for my friend Surgical Steel - she gave me the invite so that I could (finally) create a site for my fictions (and eventually snippets of my original work as well) and I am so very grateful to her!

This site will have all the completed fics on it as soon as I can post them, and I have a posted WIP that I will begin posting here soon as well.

Primarily my fics are Batman/DC based, BtVS/AtS (including crossovers), HP, Doctor WHO, Witchblade (TV and comic, non-anime at this time), Gargoyles and Dark is Rising Sequence (book-verse). I will be adding other series to this list as time and my duties with two sick family members permit. Upcoming fics will be featuring NCIS, Stargate: SG-1, Law and Order - Criminal Intent, Law and Order - Special Victims Unit, CSI: New York, Criminal Minds and others as the fancy strikes. I will also be reentering [and revisiting] the world of Batman and my Trinity stories, and am debating a LOTR fic right now. More when I know more.

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