about sunrise

[crusaded]

Considering how closely knit the people of this island are, I'm surprised Monday's explosion didn't cause more panic. In the short amount of time I've spent on Tabula Rasa, it's quickly become clear that trouble seems to attract the same few individuals— or, conversely, perhaps it's the people who draw trouble to them, inviting it to their doorstep. I haven't distinguished correlation from causation yet, but the former is widespread knowledge.

I do start to wonder if I should be endearing myself to that inner circle, as it were. I don't expect to be welcomed, either as Bruce or as Batman, by the majority of their number. And frankly, I don't need widespread approval. I need a single contact, someone I can trust, someone who can set aside differences and realize that someone such as myself could prove to be of aid in certain situations.

Coupled with the other conversations I'm sure we ought to have at some point, only one man stands out as the right choice.

I find him, one Wednesday morning, having a late breakfast in the kitchen. It's meals that seem to be the most practical time to seek the man out. With the crowd buzzing around us, and with the chef of the day actually being someone whose food I trust, there's plenty of reason for both of us to be there, and plenty of distractions to keep us from drawing too much attention. Spotting an open seat across from him, I grab a plate of eggs and toast and round the table.

"This spot free?" I ask, making sure to smile.

Comments

[onlyforthedream]

I look up from jotting in a notebook, coffee in one hand and pencil in the other, finishing up the outline of next week's lesson plan. With everything that's been happening- and not just with Tony, to Pepper, with Peggy and the council and class- this meeting has been put off for a considerable length of time. I haven't been especially looking forward to it, though I do have questions I want answered, do want to know the man better.

Nodding, I flip the notebook closed and slide the pencil into its spine.

"Of course, Mr. Wayne."

[crusaded]

I haven't exactly had a low profile on the island as Bruce Wayne, and something tells me that Steve Rogers is a far sharper man than the average island resident, so it comes as no surprise that he greets me by name. But it's a very different reaction than Bucky Barnes', I must say— and I think I prefer it this way. I smile, and although it belies the tension that I feel with respect to this, it's not an insincere one.

"Guess that means no introductions necessary," I remark, although I hold my hand out regardless. "Pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Rogers. And please, call me Bruce. If you'd like."

[onlyforthedream]

"Bruce, then," I reply, taking the man's hand, shaking it firmly. As a kid in Brooklyn who dreamt of what it might be like to be strong but was bookish and artistically incline, I read plenty of comics. Superheroes didn't come along until I was older, not until '38, and the it was Superman, first, all bold colors, someone standing up for the downtrodden. I remember being given the first issue to look at for an assignment, but then I was recruited by Dr. Erskine and the most popular books on the racks were my own.

What a strange thought.

The point is, I know little about Batman. I know there were movies, I know a little of his publishing history, but I didn't read comics, other than the ones I penned or the Illustrated Classics when I was a teenager. Most of my impressions of the man come from the people on the island who have interacted with him, who know him, and it presents an interesting dichotomy. I know the man is considered a super hero, but that isn't enough to balance what else I know.

"To be honest, I'm surprised we haven't spoken before now."

[crusaded]

"I'm not," I reply frankly, shrugging any tension out of my shoulders before crossing my arms lightly over my chest. While it's not quite a defense mechanism, there's simply something in the other man that makes one want to draw themselves up to full height, in much of the same way that Clark does, when in uniform. But, and perhaps this impression is largely driven by the presence of a younger Clark, his life philosophies and traits more evident to the eye, I don't sense the same type of naivety in Steve Rogers. All the better. I'm not the person to ask to deal with the childish or naive.

"You're a busy guy," I point out, plucking a croissant from my tray and breaking off one of the flaky corners. "You're saddled with any number of responsibilities. And this island can't help but keep the hurdles coming. I've been reading the paper whenever I get my hands on a copy. It's amazing what can slip the rest of us by when we're not paying attention."

[onlyforthedream]

"I don't think you can be saddled with anything you volunteer for," I reply. Coming from someone else it might sound dry, or clever, but I mean what I say.

"De Worde doesn't miss much. It's a small community, but rarely as quiet as you think."

[crusaded]

I know that the community isn't quiet. I get the feeling that there's more beyond what I've delved into during my time here. Most of my efforts have been spent on tracking that last individual down in Rapture, or making sure that each one of my wards is carefully looked after, or maintaining my image as Wayne and trying to gain the confidence of those more involved in the effort to find a way off the island. The idea that there's more I haven't seen isn't surprising; it's also not my greatest curiosity.

"Which is what's letting us chat right now," I add, glad for the ambient noise around us of lingering conversations and clinking china. Gazing off to the side, I rest my elbows on the table, threading my fingers together and pressing them against my lip. "I was wondering when we would after you spotted me in the jungle that time."

[onlyforthedream]

"I wasn't sure how pressing an issue it was. Jason seemed to be handling it," I reply, because it would have been on Jason's behalf that I would have chased the man down through the jungle.

"And then, I admit, I was busy. But not that busy." This could have happened sooner, if either of us had meant it to.

"So, what can I do for you, Bruce?"

[crusaded]

My smile fades; I suspect that he can probably understand. There's no joke in what I have to ask, and I haven't earned an answer.

"Shortly after my arrival, I had an interesting encounter with a friend of yours. Bucky Barnes," I elaborate, pressing my fingers to my temple. I watch for a reaction. "He reacted very strongly to my arrival. I guess I'm curious to know why."

[onlyforthedream]

Of course, I spoke to Bucky after the fact. I know about their exchange in Rapture, I know about Bruce's run in with Logan- and to be honest, I'm more surprised that hasn't come to a head than anything else- but until it spills over into something unmanageable, to be frank, it's not really any of my business.

"Then you'd do better to ask him," I reply.

"I don't make it habit of speaking on his behalf." Not to mention the fact that if Bruce Wayne is the detective he's heralded to be, he knows damn well that Jason is the crux of the matter. It makes me wonder if this is actually what he wanted to discuss with me.

[crusaded]

Time to be frank.

"I'm not asking you to speak for him," I point out. I've spoken with Barnes already, learned everything that I can for the moment from that man's point-of-view. "I'm asking for reassurance. He's a close friend of my son, Steve."

Plenty of people aren't fond of me; plenty of people would rather I disappear off the face of the Earth, if they had their way. That's not what I care about. I've never needed people to like me, and I don't even need them to always listen. But Jason is a more sensitive matter than most.

"I'm asking as a favor."

[onlyforthedream]

"Bruce, all I know about your relationship with your son," I say, resting my forearms against the edge of the table, keeping my voice low enough that what I say stays between us but not so low as to sound like I'm trying to be secretive, "is how it ended. As far as it's been explained to me, any favor I do for you regarding Jason would be facilitating an abusive relationship. Unless there are details you'd like to provide to clarify things."

Because I am more than willing to listen. I understand complicated- I even understand dangerously complicated, with someone you consider family. No. With someone who is family, your only family. I understand that, especially given our shared line of work. Every story has two sides, and I haven't even heard Bruce's. In fact, I haven't heard Jason's, not fully. I only know what he's alluded to and what Bucky's told me flat out, but I have no reason to disbelieve either of them.

That doesn't mean, however, that I won't listen to what Bruce has to say.

[crusaded]

An abusive relationship. If I doubted what Jason thought of me before, it's been made doubly clear now.

"You know what they told you about how it ended," I correct him, similarly leaning in. "Yes, I hurt Jason. He was also about to kill a man. A criminal, granted, and one that deserved to die. But I could not... can not afford to end a life."

I don't elaborate on why. I'm not sure that most people understand. Dick, perhaps, and Tim, and Alfred. Not anyone outside the family.

"And I wouldn't have wanted Jason to be responsible for it in my stead."

Folding my hands, I quickly add, "It's not my intention to reinsert myself into Jason's life, but I'm worried for his mental well-being. And that started before what happened between the two of us."

[onlyforthedream]

"Walk with me," I say, and it isn't a suggestion, but it sounds enough like one to avoid giving anyone around us a reason to be interested. I stand, tucked the notebooks against my forearm and starting for the hall with a thank you on our way out to the day's cook.

"He's been through some hellish things, here," I tell Bruce once we're away from the dwindling breakfast crowd and heading for the compound's exit.

"But he has support. Friends, people he looks up to, people he knows to care about him. I've seen him withdrawn and I've seen him manic, but I've never seem him completely fall apart or lash out at anyone," I continue, holding the door open for Bruce after I've taken the first step out of it.

"He has a life here, and it means a lot to him."

[crusaded]

I nod at the chef, follow Steve outdoors. Easy enough. I listen to what he has to say, and I'm not sure if it'd be wise to explain some of the things that Jason's done back in Gotham. Not all of which I've seen with my own eyes, but I don't doubt any of it; perhaps that's more important. I can see Jason descending into madness more easily than I can see him recovering fully. That fact still remains even now.

"My being here changes that," I tell Steve, glancing casually behind us before we continue forward. "Whatever he's seen here, he's probably seen worse back home. I have no intention of forcing my way back into his life, but for one, he has a girlfriend who seems keen on making it happen. And friends who believe me to be a constant threat and aren't afraid to treat me as one."

[onlyforthedream]

"Which is a positive," I point out.

"Albeit not for you. Bruce..." I stop when we're off the path a ways and turn back to face him. I'm not angry and I don't want to pressure him into giving me more details, that's not the point of this. But if he's really concerned, he needs to understand just what he's up against.

"Your reputation precedes you. It's one that commands respect. Even if it didn't, you managed to get past Wolverine, which... speaks volumes. But Bucky and I are both aware of the fact that you cut that boy's throat, and it makes it damn hard to take anything else into account."

[crusaded]

I pause, meeting Steve's gaze fully.

(My reputation? Mark that as something I ought to ask more about soon.)

"And how much of the full picture do you think you have?"