50Hey all! It's been forever since I updated this story. Man! Anyways, here's just a short chapter to get back into the groove of things! Enjoy! And Happy Easter to those of you who celebrate! Please excuse any typos or grammatical errors!
The Ditch
Chapter Ten
Splinted pt. III
By the time the car pulled up to the steps of Wayne Manor, everyone was rightfully exhausted – beyond the word. Max had finally received her discharge papers and a prescription for Lortab to help with the pain. So far the splint held. Thanks to the drugs they'd given her earlier, she didn't feel much of anything while getting out of bed, into the wheelchair, and into the car. By now, however, the girl's senses were starting to sober up to the point that just the slightest bump in the road caused Gibson to wince in growing discomfort. But then again: when you snapped your leg in half, fractured and dislocated the ankle on same said leg, had extensive nerve , tendon and muscle damage, was stabbed, practically bled out, suffered from the beginning stages of hypothermia, and basically died…she guessed she could handle a little pain here or there.
The ride within itself had been pretty quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Terry drove, of course, while Bruce and Max sat in the darkened back. Most people probably would've felt uneasy being in the same room as Bruce Wayne – so they'd probably shit their pants being in such a closed, confined space directly next to the old man. But not Max. Their bout of distrust between one another long ago passed; and though the two obviously still had issues with the ways the other carried out "business", they were pretty shway. Still, that didn't stop the explosion of shock in Gibson's soul when Wayne reached out a wrinkled hand and pat her own in awkward yet meaningful comfort.
Every few minutes Terry would look back at his best friend and boss through the rearview mirror, making sure everything was okay. And each time that he did, Max always looked right back and smiled softly…and he would either smile back or frown – obviously struggling between gratitude for her life being preserved, and rage that it had even been threatened in the first place.
The luxury vehicle pulled up to the front of Wayne Manor, and Max gathered up Terry's jacket that he'd loaned her (her own was probably still with that psycho druggie) and began to prepare herself to exit when Terry cursed. "What? What is it?" Gibson asked.
"I forgot about them…" murmured McGinnis to himself more than anyone else.
"Forgot about what?" responded the pink haired dame with a raise of the brow.
McGinnis couldn't even answer – to ashamed at his thoughtlessness; but Bruce could. And he did. "…The steps…" Wayne replied all knowingly and statuesque.
Terry's bristle of anger was quick as the young man turned around and glared at the former Batman. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Bruce almost felt shock at the teen's hidden accusation. Almost. "It was your idea to bring her here-," the old man began to reply. But as per usual, Terry wouldn't let him get a word in without sharing his own two cents.
"And you agreed!"
"You're the Batman-."
"That's not your best argument, Bruce!"
"I assumed that you had everything figured out." Bruce sighed, completely unbothered by the teen's hostility. "Of course, this wouldn't be the first time I've been wrong about that."
"You self-righteous-."
"GUYS!" interjected Max with a raise of her hands in surrender. Both men turn to look at her less than relaxed expression. "If I wanted to be around fighting, I could've just went with my mom." Terry's mouth slammed shut in guilt. "Now," continued Gibson with a turn for the front door as she pushed back a resistant strand of pink hair, "about the steps: I can make it." Although her words were confident, the look on her face wasn't quite too sure. The front of the manor didn't have a large stairway – in fact, there were only a few steps – but she'd have to do a lot more walking than she would like to right now on an awakening center of pain.
Terry frowned. "Maybe we can try the garage…"
"And make her walk all the way from one end of the house to another?" Bruce scoffed. "It's called Wayne Manor, McGinnis," added the aged billionaire through furrowed brows. "Not Wayne Flat."
Terry growled low. Smart ass. "I can make the front steps," assured Max, trying to stop any further dispute between the two vigilante men in her life. "No problem."
"Those aren't the only steps I'm worried about, Max," stated Terry, rubbing his temple in frustration. Max didn't even have time to ask when the teen clarified, "Wayne Manor is a big estate and…well…Problem is, there's not a proper place for you to sleep on the main floor. You'd have to go up his staircase to the upper level – and it's a lot."
Well that was discouraging. Max chewed her lips. "Surely in a house this big Bruce has an elevator?" Gibson stared at Wayne. "Don't you?"
"I do," replied the old man gruffly. "But I don't think you'll be able to make it."
Max's hands begin to shake nervously. So what? They came all this way for nothing? "Let's just get in the house first. We'll decide on the rest then. Terry…" She didn't have to say anything else, for in an instant he was out the door and on the other side of the car with hers open. Wayne grunted again and exited on his own, hobbling around the car and beyond the two up the steps to get the door open. Gently, carefully, Max maneuvered a bit to get her right leg out the vehicle and stand. McGinnis had her in his arms, urging her on and telling her to use his body as a crutch to carry her weight. Max obeyed, leaning into McGinnis as the young man's hands gently lifted her remaining body out of the vehicle and closed the door. He slammed the door close and practically flew to Max's left, taking her arm and pulling it around his massive shoulders, while the lad's opposite hand gripped Gibson's waist; her right hand clutched it for dear life.
By now, Max's shaking had become all the more noticeable as the female let out a trembling breath that danced foggily in the freezing air. Though, it wasn't the cold causing Gibson to shake. A set of lights that Wayne hardly ever used illuminated along each side of the steps and for that both teens were grateful. "Take your time, Max," urged McGinnis into her ear. "Move when you're ready."
"I'm ready," she so easily lied, starting with her right foot and pushing up the first step. That part was easy with Terry already up the first step and practically guiding her up, but the rest would be where things would get difficult. In order to go up each step, she would have to put some weight on her injured leg…Max lifted her right foot again, and grit her teeth to silence the whimper of pain as her body pushed down on her injured side.
She was moving much too fast and not communicating in time for him to help. Damnit. Terry had her instantly and pulled up, quickly doing his part to alleviate the pressure on the girl's injury. "You have to tell me when you're ready, Max!" he snapped, squeezing her waist a little too tight.
"Don't yell at me, Ter!" she hollered back, insulted a bit by the tone of his voice. Deep down the melanin adorned beauty knew her best friend wasn't upset with her: he was just upset that she didn't inform him of her move so that he could carry most of her weight. But Max's pain preventers were all but worn off now; she was tired, hurting, cold, and hungry – and his rip into her only made matters worse. Max stepped up again, but this time McGinnis interpreted her move and eased the weight on her left side, helping Gibson to make it up a few more steps. They were at the final step when a sound to the right suddenly flew out from the bushes like a ferocious attack, causing Max to look with a loud gasp as her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Her right foot missed the top step, causing her body to suddenly fall back…and onto the girl's left faster than Terry could keep up with. The pain was searing and hot and so intense her heart galloped. Everything buckled, and with a cry of pain Maxine Gibson was about to tumble backwards. Bruce leaned forward from the doorway with a holler. "TERRY!" Recollecting himself, McGinnis swiftly ducked behind Max and rearranged his arms so that they tucked beneath the teen's knee and back. McGinnis grounded himself as firm as he could and regained his balance until he was able to lift the genius off of her feet into a princess carry and continue the rest of the journey into the manor.
"Tell me where I'm going, Bruce," demanded McGinnis as Max tightened her grip around the boy's neck and buried her face into his shoulder…crying. Terry was already heading deep into the main foyer and for the elevator towards the back.
"Not the elevator!"
"I can get her to a room quicker if I-."
"The longer you carry her the more strain gravity is putting on her ankle and leg. They just put her bone together, you're gonna redislocate the ankle worse if it isn't already. Or pull the bones in her leg apart. Bring her to the living room."
Bruce didn't have to say another word. Terry spun on his heels and walked her to the other side of the foyer into a large and lit area. "Sit her on the couch." His orders were obeyed, and as soon as Max touched the fabric she nearly curled up into a ball. "No, Max. You have to straighten up."
"It hurts…" she whimpered softly with a gasp.
"I know, honey. But not for long…" Bruce reached into his coat pocket and pulled out her prescription. "Terry grab some water."
"Can she take that on an empty stomach?!"
"Technically she shouldn't. Her body won't be able to metabolize the acetaminophen in it, and it can cause liver damage even at lower doses. But the hydrocodone in it will take effect much quicker on an empty stomach. One time won't kill her – and I'd rather deal with potential liver damage than see her in so much pain again. Now, get the damn water!"
Terry found himself mildly appalled at the old man's fierce defensiveness for Max's sake – but then again, McGinnis understood it. After being around Max for so long, you couldn't help but love her in some manner or another – whether you were aware of or wanted it or not. The teen flew through the corridors to the kitchen, practically tearing the cabinets apart to look for a cup before finally locating one and filling it with water. By the time McGinnis made it back to the living area, Bruce had somehow managed to get Max sitting up with her back against an arm of the couch. Her wrist was resting against her forehead as the girl took deep and labored breaths – but the tears had stopped, and judging by Wayne's expression: he was just as relieved by that as Terry was. "I have the water," he said – though suddenly tripping over something that scurried in front of his feet. "SHIT, ACE!" hollered the teen with a scowl as the black canine stalked the shadows, curiously watching the strange play of movement before him. The dog was used to seeing Max at Wayne Manor – but not like this. The Great Dane could feel the tension in the air, and didn't like it one single bit.
"I'm fine," whispered Gibson unconvincingly between breaths.
"You'll be better once you take your medicine." Terry stood over her, taking the bottle of pills from Wayne and shaking the required dosage into his hand. The young Batman handed them to his best friend, but Max recoiled away from them.
"No."
"Maaaax," began McGinnis – his voice drawn out with frustration.
"Terry," Max explained, looking up at her ace boon with fearful eyes. "I don't want to go back to sleep. I've spent enough time in the dark. Please…"
He hadn't considered that. Between being stranded at night in the ditch, to dying, being drugged and in and out of sleep in the hospital, he could only imagine how weary of being mentally nonexistent Max must have been. But McGinnis would rather her sleep than stay awake in agony; and whether Max knew it or not, that option was probably the best for her either way. Terry's brows narrowed in compassion – but still he gently gripped her palm and placed the medicine into it. "Max, you don't have to be afraid. Okay? I'm here," the teen assures her. "No matter how dark it may get, I'm always going to be right here. I'll save you. It's my job."
Max started to smile. "As Batman?"
But Terry's expression suddenly grew more serious that Max's smile faded. The blue-eyed teen shook his head before tenderly placing a hand against her cheek for a split moment. "No. As your friend."
Max could feel the burning in her eyes threatening to tear them apart, but she never stopped looking at him. Quickly, in an attempt to divert any more tears from falling, she popped the pills into her mouth and took the water from his hands and swallowed the medicine down. "Happy?"
"No," answered Terry, much to Max's surprise as she stared and tried to gauge what he meant. McGinnis kneeled down beside her, lacing his fingers through her own and pulling her hand to his lips. His icy eyes peered through Gibson's very soul. "Never. I'll never be happy. Not until you're better…and not until the assholes who did this to you pay…"
Bruce grunted in the background, and Terry growled. "Don't say it," he snapped.
"Say what?" asked the old man nonchalantly.
"That it's not the Batman way…"
"I don't have to say it," countered Wayne as he hobbled towards the fireplace and swiped an automatic lighter from the mantel – then reaching down and igniting the wood inside. "You already know it's not."
McGinnis opened his mouth to dispute when Max grabbed his chin between her fingertips and sighed like a scolding parent. "Terry…Don't talk like that."
Terrence could see that she was already starting to drift out due to the medicine. For that he was grateful. At least he wouldn't have to hear her argue with him about what was right or wrong…about the anger he felt every time he pictured his best friend dead in that ditch – and the overwhelming desire to do something about it. So, he did the one thing he was getting better at doing since donning the cowl: he lied. "Anything for you, Max."
Gibson slid down on the massive couch and laid on her side as Terry rested his back against the edge of the furniture, allowing the female to take her arm and wrap it about his neck and shoulder in a gesture that plainly stated she wanted him close. "Just…stand by me…"
"There's no place I'd rather be, Max. No place. Now, sleep. You're safe now," he urged. As if on cue, Maxine Gibson let out an exhausted exhale and drifted away, leaving the room silent aside from the now crackling wood being devoured by the flames within the fireplace.
Ace trotted forward and sniffed the couch where Max was sleeping before walking toward his master and sitting diligently at Bruce's side. The old man reached down and pat the massive canine's head, saying nothing for quite some time. But when he did speak, the coldness was laced through his voice in such a way that Terry didn't know whether to shiver in fear, or square up viciously for a fight. "You're treading on dangerous ground, McGinnis."
"I'm walking just fine, Wayne." Terry clenched his fist.
Bruce turned and faced the young man – his expression said it all. "No, you're not. I know you're upset about what happened to her. But if you don't watch yourself you're going to end up down a road that will tear you up worse than her death ever could. It's not worth it."
McGinnis glared, not even wanting to hear where Wayne was going with this conversation. "She's worth it," snapped back the teen. "She's worth every single head of those dregs."
Bruce snorted. So McGinnis wanted to use Max as a basis for his argument, huh? Two could play that game. "Are you honestly stupid enough to believe Max would let you consider, much less think that?" Terry didn't answer – he didn't have to. Wayne shook his head. "Control your emotions, kid. They'll put you in deeper trouble than even I will be able to get you out of. Trust me. I'm speaking from experience."
Terry argued simply, "My emotions are just fine."
"You're wrong. You love Max – probably way more than you even realize or are willing to admit, and that's the main source of your problem – and I know you think that you're protecting her; avenging her. But in the end your love for Max is going to cause more damage than you'll know how to handle. You're not saving her by entertaining those twisted thoughts in your head, McGinnis. In fact, you just might be killing her. Now I won't say it again. Control your emotions – or you'll lose control over everything."
It was a substantial threat ringing with truths – and ordinarily Terry would have backed down and considered the previous Dark Knight's words…but not now. McGinnis caressed Max's arm strung across his shoulder and neck and warned the old man in a low and threatening voice: "Gotham is my city. Max is my friend. And if you think I'll let those clowns do the same thing to someone else that they did to her, you're crazy."
"Don't you do that!" snarled Wayne so loudly that it made even Ace flinch. Bruce jabbed his cane in the teen's direction and bared his teeth. "Don't you dare try to use that girl as the crutch for your misguided notions! This isn't about protecting the city. This is about you wanting revenge for what happened to Max. This is you tossing the blame off of yourself and pinning it onto PART of the problem just so you can sleep easier at night. It's a cowardly move."
"I guess I'm doing things the good ole Bruce Wayne way, then!" cut Terry sharp as a knife as he fought the urge to stand – referring to far more than he probably would have liked to in terms of what he did know about Bruce's past. Instantly, he regretted it.
A verbal slap in the face. As if doused with water, Bruce Wayne's anger simmered down and the senior citizen could only shake his head – marveling at it all. "You're right, McGinnis. You're doing things the old Bruce Wayne way. Keep it up and you'll end up just like me." Bruce smirked eerily, and the Manor seemed to grow smaller in a terrifying, prophetic manner around them all. "Just. Like. Me…"
Terry's chest pumped up and down as a shiver ran through his spine. But he wouldn't show any weakness. "You're not the Batman anymore, Bruce. I am." The words were simple, but the meaning was profound.
Bruce turned back towards the fire, watching the flames dance and eat away the wood like an agonizing ritual of death and calamity. "Yep," Wayne whispered. "Just like me…"
To be continued…
