Chapter Text
The steam drifting lazily out of the opening of the travel mug perched on Malcolm's knee carried a scent that brought back memories of marathon study sessions and college anxiety, middle of the night conversations after he had one of his night terrors, and above all, the quiet comfort and support of friendship. Peppermint tea wasn't his favorite but he couldn't deny it didn't contain the same restorative power Earl Grey did. Malcolm breathed deeply, absorbing the fresh, minty smell, finding calm inside the chaos, and the familiarity of one of his healthier routines.
"You should have told me about your dream," he said once Sorcha finished. "You shouldn't have hidden it from me."
She shouldn't have felt like she needed to keep it from me, he amended silently. Malcolm freely admitted he was completely clueless about things like relationships. Even he knew, though, couples shared things like bad dreams with each other. They worked through difficult times together. Supported and comforted the other when things became challenging.
Not that he and Sorcha were a couple.
Officially, anyway.
And the reason for that is me. Because he believed he deserved pain and misery for all the people his father hurt. Malcolm admitted he couldn't allow himself happiness because of the families out there grieving the loss of their loved one. Many found a connection with the Whitly's as socially unacceptable.
His mother suffered years of social isolation for having married his father. Ainsley encountered people who didn't believe she should have the same opportunities as other journalists because she was the daughter of the Surgeon. Malcolm feared he'd end up ruining whoever he was with socially simply by being with them.
Fixing things between he and Sorcha wouldn't be easy, though. Especially when the woman he let come between them in life haunted them in death. Malcolm didn't have to turn his head to know Eve floated by the window, gazing at him with her sad eyes, and the ghost of a smile on her lips.
"I did tell you about my dream." Sorcha smiled at him from over the rim of her mug. "So, technically, I didn't hide it."
Malcolm rolled his eyes. "You only told me about it after talking with Raya about it."
"I didn't talk with Raya about it first, actually." Sorcha lowered her mug to her knee. "I actually talked to Dick about my dream before I did Raya."
"You talked with Dick?" Malcolm's brow creased at her nod. "Why'd you talk with Dick about it before Raya?"
"Well, Raya was busy running that blood sample so I talked to him while she focused on that." One corner of her mouth kicked up. "Kinda figured it was more important than her talking to me about a dream."
"It is," he agreed with a slight nod. "But she'd also tell you not to minimize the dream or how it made you feel."
"Dick covered that." Mischief shimmered in her eyes. "Have a feeling he plays therapist a lot because the therapist gets obsessed with her cases." Her lips twitched at his snort. "Gee, can't think of who that reminds me of..."
"Gil calls her Capable Bright."
"Because she actually uses the skills she was taught." Sorcha's tone was wry. "She doesn't run blindly into danger."
A sound, almost like a chuckle, came from the dog asleep on the floor. Malcolm shrugged that idea off. Krypto might be from the planet of Krypton but that didn't mean he possessed the ability to laugh.
"Raya runs into dangerous situations all the time."
Dangerous situations were the specialities of Gotham's silent vigilantes. They could do what the police couldn't. Enter the places they were barred from. Investigate where they couldn't. As they are now with Endicott.
"She hasn't chased a serial killer into a service tunnel and gotten her ribs crushed in a turnstile."
Malcolm had one word in response to that: "Joker."
Sorcha was ready with a rebuttal, however. "The Joker didn't take her to her father's murder room where she got stabbed and had to break her own thumb to get free from her cuffs."
"She has been gassed by the Scarecrow." Multiple times, Malcolm added silently. "She left a charity ball a few years ago with him to keep him from gassing those in attendance."
"Raya trusted her team would not only stop him from gassing those people but also there to help her get free of him." Malcolm was forced to concede she had a point there. There was an extraordinary amount of trust among the members of the Batfamily. Even when they were angry at each other they were there to protect and defend each other. "Raya also trusts in herself, Mal. The greatest lesson Batman taught her was she doesn't need anyone to save her. She can save herself."
"I trust in myself," he said. "To much Gil would say."
"You trust in your ability to profile someone," Sorcha agreed with a nod. "You also trust in your ability to talk a suspect out of causing you or others harm. Physical confrontations is where you struggle, though. You don't fight when it is you under attack."
Again, Malcolm found himself forced to concede. He didn't fight unless he was protecting someone. He feared losing control, going one step too far, killing someone.
"What you, uh, fear, my boy, is killing someone and finding out it's the ultimate thrill."
Malcolm didn't acknowledge his father's words despite the truth in them. He asked instead, "Was Dick able to help you with your dream?"
"He helped me make sense of it, yes." She lifted her mug but didn't take a sip. "He mentioned you had a dream similar to mine after you started at Gotham Academy."
Malcolm had forgotten about that dream. Most of his memories from his time in Gotham were happy ones. Gotham Academy had been the only other school he attended where he hadn't been singled out for being the son of The Surgeon. The majority of those who attended the prestigious private school simply considered him as one of their own. His blood was as blue as theirs, his pedigree as pure. Plus, he lived with Bruce Wayne. Was friends with both of his sons, his female ward, and her cousin, Barbara. Their friendship and support garnered him the acceptance he hadn't achieved in places like Remington.
Not that Malcolm didn't encounter bullies while attending Gotham Academy. He just didn't suffer in silence. He had people there who supported, defended, and comforted him. The same people coming to my aide now against a different sort of bully.
One who didn't simply have a group of peers to aide him in his attack. No, Endicott had an entire cabal of faceless individuals with power, money, and a retinue of undead assassins to help him achieve his end goal.
"My dream wasn't about thousands of Talons descending on New York."
"He didn't share what the dream was about. Just said you had one that was similar." Soft tweeting came from Sunshine. Sorcha handed her mug to Malcolm before getting up and walking over to where her travel cage sat on top of his bookshelf. "Okay, pretty baby, we'll let you out to stretch your wings."
"Do you think letting her out with Krypto here is a good idea?" Sunshine chirped from her cage as if to say she had no problem with it. Not that Malcolm expected his little budgie to think otherwise. She proved how fearless she was with the way she attacked Tammy Lynn.
Something which continued to amaze Malcolm all these weeks later. He would've expected such an attack from Krypto instead of a parakeet. Sunshine became an eagle, zipping through the air with determination and devotion, attacking with her talons and beak, beating at Tammy Lynn's face with her wings. Never once concerned for her own safety and well-being, ignoring him when he told her to fly away, chirping her indignation as she continued her assault.
"Pretty sure Krypto has been around cats, bats, and birds his whole life."
Malcolm swallowed a laugh along with his mouthful of tea. "You left out Supermen."
"Implied under birds."
"Pretty sure Superman would not agree with that analogy."
"He flies so he's a bird." Sorcha opened the cage door to let Sunshine hop out onto her hand. "Here we go, pretty baby."
Happy chirping came from Sunshine. Snoring, on the other hand, came from the dog asleep on the floor. Malcolm sent Krypto a wry look. "I see I worried for nothing."
"You typically do."
He ignored that. "Do you know if Raya got results from the samples?"
"They came back just as I was heading back here."
"And?"
"And they prove what we knew all along: the blood on Eddie isn't yours. It wasn't even blood from what Raya said."
Malcolm frowned. "Fake blood?"
"Raya called it theatrical blood." Sorcha walked back to the bed. "Perfect base to create a sample to frame someone with."
"Will that be enough to stop the grand jury from indicting me on murder charges?"
"Proving the blood was fabricated should be enough to stop a grand jury." She settled on the bed beside him and let Sunshine hop down onto his knee. "However, Raya is erring on the side of caution and speaking with someone she knows about representing you should they indict you."
"My mother has..."
"Hired a retinue of attorney's who have never dealt with an organization like the Court of Owls or a man as ruthless and vindictive as Endicott."
She has a point, Malcolm realized as he ran a finger across the top of Sunshine's head. His mother's attorneys were not criminal attorneys. Most of them never defended a client suspected of murder. The sort of attorney he needed should this end up going forward was someone like Sterling. Only, he was dead. Possibly murdered by the man he worked for to keep him from talking.
"Who is Raya talking with about taking over as my defense attorney?"
"Harvey Dent."
The air whooshed out of Malcolm. A roaring filled his ears. His blood pumped. Stomach twisted. Harvey Dent, he thought, mind going numb. The former district attorney who became one of Gotham's criminal kingpins after acid was splashed into his face, disfiguring him.
Harvey Dent, the proclaimed White Knight.
Gotham heralded him as Apollo.
Until his psyche fractured and he took the law into his own hands, acting as judge, jury, and executioner.
"Harvey Dent?" Tea sloshed out of his mug onto his spasming hand. He pushed the button down to seal it before splashing any on Sunshine. "She's asking Harvey Dent to represent me?"
"Can you think of anyone else who won't be afraid of taking on Endicott or the Court of Owls?"
"Dent's psyche..."
Was worse than his.
Way worse.
"Raya assured me Dent has been completely cured of his secondary personality and all homicidal tendencies."
That only brought Malcolm mild comfort. His father appeared genial and non.-homicidal until something caused the monster to surface. "This is dangerous, Sorch."
"Yeah?" Sorcha reached over to rub Sunshine's neck. "And? Am I supposed to run away and hide because things have gotten dangerous?" She shook her head. "I'm not. Neither is anyone else. We're all in. No matter what happens, we're all in. We'll take Endicott and the Court down together."
"He killed Eve because she got too close to figuring out what he's involved in." He lifted his eyes to hers. "You have your father's files. That makes you the most dangerous person to him now."
"Yeah, well, I'm not Eve. I don't rush into situations recklessly." She slanted a look at him. "Unlike you."
Malcolm had the sense to look mildly abashed. "I don't think about me in situations like that."
"Obviously."
"Sarcasm isn't necessary."
"I haven't slept much in over forty-eight hours," she retorted. "That I'm capable of sarcasm is amazing to me at this point."
Sunshine chirped and nibbled at his finger. "She wants her morning treat."
"I'll get it." Sorcha swung her feet to the floor. "I'm better when I'm moving. Helps me think."
"Keeps you awake."
"Sleep issues," she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door. "Remember?"
"I have sleep issues," he replied as Sunshine flapped her wings and twittered happily. "You just have picked up bad habits."
"Yeah." She sent a teasing smile over her shoulder. "Got them all from you."
Malcolm wisely choose to ignore that.