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about sunrise
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.
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.
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"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."
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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.
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"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."
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"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."
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"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."
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"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."
no subject
(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?"