Selfish

Batman Beyond

By Amos Whirly

He thinks I'm clueless. He thinks I don't know what he does every night.

But he's wrong.

I know. I've known for a while now.

I admit, though, at first, I was clueless. I didn't realize what was going on, and that makes it even worse. When I think about the way I treated him, when I remember the things I said to him—then, when I realize everything he's done for this city, it's just too much.

I don't understand why he still wants me around. I've acted like a spoiled little baby, pouting and throwing my little tantrums whenever I didn't get my way. I thought he was out partying with his guy friends, conveniently forcing myself to forget that he didn't have any. I thought he was bumming around with some gang, getting into trouble or beating on Jokerz or T's. I even went so far as to convince myself that he was seeing someone else.

I did terrible things to him.

I ignored him. I refused to listen to him. I even spent time with other guys in plain sight of him.

But every time we'd fight, somehow he would find a way through to my stubborn heart, and I would remember that he was always there for me in the times I really needed him.

Always but once.

I was alone. Kidnapped. Trapped in a sewer with a madman and his giant pet rats. I had to rely on myself because I knew he could never find me, but even then I couldn't get away. It was hopeless.

Until he showed up.

Batman. His suit blacker than shadows, his voice darker than night—he saved me, and I never even saw him do it. I must have fainted because I woke up in the back of an ambulance, dirty, singed, and so emotionally drained that I couldn't see straight.

Then, Terry came.

It should have been the final straw for us, but his eyes—the sorrow, the pain reflected in his bright blue eyes. All I wanted was his arms around me.

That was when they started. The dreams. The nightmares. I tried everything to make them go away, but nothing worked. So I just ignored them, trying to focus on anything but the images of those giant rats bearing down on me.

Life went on that way for about a year. Terry was more attentive than before after my abduction, but he still dropped everything when his boss, Bruce Wayne, called on his cell phone.

I hated that cell phone.

At last, graduation came. No more high school. No more cheerleaders. No more calculus.

Terry and I took a picture with our diplomas. I kissed him, and I watched the joy in his face as his mom and little brother Matt bombarded him with hugs. The pride on Mrs. McGinnis's face was not hard to see. Even Mr. Wayne was there, but he hung at the back of the crowd like a shadow unwilling to show its face to the daylight.

It made me wonder what Terry saw in him, or what he saw in Terry.

I had hoped that college would stop the dreams. It didn't. They only got worse when I was no longer at home with my dad. My roommates were sympathetic at first, but after two weeks of my screaming in the middle of the night, they demanded that I do something to stop the nightmares.

So, I went to Terry, desperate for advice.

"It's because you're afraid, Dana," he said to me. "You're afraid of the dream. If you stop being afraid of it, you'll see it all the way through. You'll probably find out that it's not as bad as you think it is, and you won't be afraid anymore."

"What makes you so sure?" I had asked tearfully.

"Oh, it's something Mr. Wayne told me," Terry had said.

Surprise, surprise.

So I lay awake in my bed that night, tossing and turning and thinking about Terry's advice.

I'm not afraid, I thought to myself. I'm not afraid.

And before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.

It was the same as before—trapped in that horrible sewer with that sadistic man and his rats. I was dirty from head to toe. My favorite white dress was ripped and torn.

I was going to die.

Then, Batman came.

I felt his arms surround me. I felt the flames of the explosion on my face as the sewer erupted. I heard the shriek of the rats as they caught fire.

And then everything was quiet.

Just him. That voice.

Terry.

Holding me close and rocking me back and forth, whispering my name over and over. How sorry he was. How he blamed himself. How he had never wanted me to get hurt.

The sound of sirens interrupted him. He lifted me into his arms and jumped, landing solidly.

Strange voices flooded my senses. Paramedics.

I felt his grip loosen.

No, Terry! Don't go!

He laid me on something soft, and he was gone. The paramedics' voices surrounded me. One of them took my pulse, and at last my eyes opened.

"Easy, miss," one of them said with a comforting smile. "You'll be all right."

"What happened?" I managed to ask.

"Batman," the paramedic answered. "Batman saved you."

And I woke up.

At first, I wrote it all off as just a dream, just some crazy thing my mind made up to explain Terry's attentiveness to his job and Mr. Wayne. I tried to forget it, but every time Terry's cell phone would ring, I would remember.

I started watching Terry, listening to his every word, truly getting to know him. I watched how he interacted with his mom and his brother and how he spoke about Mr. Wayne.

I also started watching Batman. I read everything I could. I looked at every picture I could find. I watched how he acted, how he moved, and I listened to his voice.

It became my obsession.

And the more I tried to ignore what I found—to explain it or rationalize it—the more proof appeared, staring me right in the face.

Terry McGinnis was Batman.

My selfishness became blatantly obvious to me, and I took steps to heal the wounds I had inflicted on our relationship.

I encouraged him.

I was patient with him.

I kissed him whenever he left at Mr. Wayne's call.

At first, I'm sure it confused him, seeing his selfish girlfriend caring more about him than our time together for once, but I could almost see the change in him immediately.

His eyes light up when he sees me. His laughs are always light-hearted. His steps were no longer weary.

He still thinks I don't know, and that's the way I want to keep it. I want him to forget about the world and its troubles when he's with me. He has enough to worry about with Gotham on his shoulders without me getting in the way.

But I know.

I know now, and I'll never forget.

Because I love him.