"Okay," I said, munching on a spoonful of Cap'n Crunch. Not the healthiest breakfast in the world, but the overly sweet processed corn nuggets were a comforting reminder of happy childhood memories. "When he wakes up then, we’ll tell him. We need to get him downstairs anyway. He shouldn't be lying down more than a little bit. Sitting up will help lower the risk of pneumonia and other secondary infections."
"What about the drugs you gave him?" Tabby asked, worried.
"They'll do their job, but still, it's best to keep him up. He should even be walking soon, but only limited amounts until the wounds heal more. He's not going to be going into work for a few days, that's for sure. Your idea of a cold is better for that. If he's as strong as I think he is, he'll be able to move about outside gingerly by about Wednesday, but Friday would be better. That's a solid week, provided he doesn't have any setbacks."
"After that, he'll have more work to do," Mark interjected. “Either he needs to stop his nighttime activities, which I doubt, or he needs some training. He's got guts, but he's also almost gotten himself killed multiple times. We can't have that."
I could see Tabby wanted to object to the idea of Patrick ever going out again, but shut her mouth. She had seen the way Mark and I were, and she knew that even with my pregnancy, even with the love we shared, Mark was still out there doing his thing. Oh, Mark could tell you a thousand reasons why he did it, from defending the city to atoning for his numerous misdeeds in his prior life, but the reality is much simpler. Patrolling, being the Snowman, that's part of who Mark is. To deny him that would be like telling Tabby to deny who she is, or for me to deny that I loved both of them. It just isn't possible.
Patrick stirred, mumbling sleepily on his cot, and the three of us hurriedly finished our breakfasts and set them aside for taking downstairs later. I went over and checked his heartbeat and lung sounds, which were both clear and strong. We had gotten lucky, I thought. Very lucky indeed.
Patrick's eyelids fluttered, and I hurriedly sat back. He opened them slowly, his eyes still dazed. I’d given him a pretty good dose of sedative, I wanted to make sure he stayed down. "Wha.... what happened? Where am I? Who are you?"
"You got shot, you're being treated here, and I'm the person who pulled a nine millimeter slug out of your back," I replied. "But I assume you want more details than that."
Patrick nodded and wiped his hand over his face. "Yeah," he said, blinking. "I could use a lot more details. Like how I got here and why I'm not in a hospital and…”
"That's going to become very clear in a second," I answered. Turning, I waved Tabby over. "Tabs?"
The shocked look of recognition on Patrick's face was worth the misleading answers, and he was even more surprised when Mark stepped closer as well. "Wait... you guys... you're?"
"Matt Bylur, Marcus Smiley, Mark Snow. Please to meet you," Mark said. "Although you and I need to talk seriously later. But for now, I'm going downstairs to get some sleep, its been a long night.”
Patrick nodded, then looked at Tabby. "So.... Marcus Smiley is the Snowman?" he asked, still perplexed.
I guess being shot, losing a lot of blood, and then having very ad hoc surgery done on you only to wake up in a bell tower surrounded by your girlfriend and her, well, difficult to explain properly companions will fry anyone's logic circuits for a while.
"Yes," Tabby said, leaning down and kissing him on the cheek. "And like Mark said, there's a lot to talk about. But Sophie’s right, you're safe, and you're being treated well. But we need an answer. Do you have any events you have to be at for the next few days?"
"No," Patrick replied after a moment. "Next thing is a meeting on Monday morning. My new assistant, Gwen, she has the full schedule."
"Do you have her phone number?" I asked. "We can give her a call for you, or you can try later."
"In... in my phone, I think," he said. "My bag."
His eyelids fluttered, and he closed his eyes. His breathing deepened, and he was soon snoring lightly. Tabby looked at me, concerned, and I nodded reassuringly. "It's normal after surgery and sedation. You look exhausted. Did you stay up with Mark all night?"
Tabby nodded and yawned. "I couldn't sleep with Patrick just lying there. I closed my eyes, and each time I did questions just kept whirling through my head."
"You need your rest," I said, giving her a hug. "Now go, lie down and close your eyes. If you want, you can up here, but it'd be best in the entertainment room. Close the doors, it'll be dark and quiet for you. Go, and I'll make sure to get you up for lunch. He should be coming out of it by then."
Tabby sighed and nodded. "Thank you, Sophie. I... I...."
"I know. Go get some sleep."
* * *
Patrick came out of his nap just before I was going to run downstairs and wake up Tabby, so I decided to let her sleep. Mark would be up soon anyway, he had most likely set an alarm to be sure. I came over and checked his pulse again, and looked in his eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got clocked in the back by a baseball bat," Patrick said, a lot more clearly than he had that morning. "Is it going to hurt that way for a while?"
"Yep," I said. "You took a bullet through some of the biggest muscles of your body, which diffused the energy. Muscles aren't meant to do that, by the way, but they do it admirably well. They'll be stiff for quite a while though. Actually, you're lucky. It didn't hit any bones, and barely clipped your lung. I was able to patch you up pretty cleanly."
Patrick nodded, accepting the situation. "Then unless I'm like seriously screwed up, don't give me any pain meds. I'll deal with it in my own way," he said. "In the mean time, think you can talk with me for a bit?"
"Sure," I replied. "Just to know though, it's been a while since I practiced my bedside manner."
The little joke earned a smile, and Patrick chuckled before grimacing. "No laughter though," he gasped. "That hurts too much."
"Yeah, that might not be the best idea," I agreed with him. "So what’s on your mind?”
“So you're the Sophie Warbird, the girl who caused the Snowman to go straight?"
"Trust me, he's always been straight," I replied before grimacing. "Sorry, we said no humor, right. Anyway, yeah, that's me. Although I'm officially Joanna Bylur now, Tabby still calls me Sophie around the house."
He looked around, thinking. "And he.... the Snowman. Damn. I mean, I'm sure he can tell, and I told Tabby, I ran with some lower level Confederation guys when I was young, and I heard stories about the Snowman, but.... wow. What's he like?"
"He's a good man," I replied. "He loves me, he loves Tabby, he loves our daughter. I guess you'll find out soon enough, I'm a little over four months pregnant."
"Congrats. You must be quite the woman yourself. I mean, from what I know of him, he's like a total savant. Smart, athletic, skilled... and now you tell me he's a business genius who also is a loving husband and, well, what is Tabby to you guys?"
"I think I'd rather let her explain that part to you," I replied. "The big thing is though, if you're going to be given the level of trust we've placed in you, you're going to have to earn it."
"What do you mean?" Patrick asked. "I'm not going to go blabbing that my girlfriend's housestaff or whatever you guys are were the couple that brought down the Confederation and Owen Lynch. I care about Tabby too much for that."
"Oh really?" I replied, raising an eyebrow. "I think that's something you might want to talk about with her about too, but not right this minute. In the mean time, think you're up for walking downstairs? Lean on me, but you'll do better if we can get you into a semi-reclined position."
"Are you sure I won't start leaking on your living room rug?"
"I'm quite sure, Mr. McCaffery," I replied primly. "I might have been a while since my last set of stitches, but I stay in practice. The only way you’ll bust a stitch is if you do something against my orders. I don't have an M-D, but I’m your doctor for this."
Patrick smiled and put his hands on the sides of the cot.
"Sure you're up for it? I weigh about two ten."
“It’s fine. It’s not like I have to pick you up, just lean on me.”
We made our way downstairs, Patrick leaning on my shoulder for most of the way. Walking slowly, we got all the way to the kitchen area before I led Patrick over to one of our dining nook chairs to sit down. "Looks rather middle class, no offense," Patrick said, looking around the space. "Although that gym was certainly sweet enough. I didn't get a very good look last time I was here."
"No, your eyes were fixed on something very different, and understandably so. By the way, you seriously had never seen The Princess Bride until the other night?"
"Never. I know, it makes me a bit of a heathen. But I can make up for it, I'm sure you're going to want to keep me here at least a while if Tabby's asking about my assistant. From what I saw on the walls of your entertainment room, you've got quite the movie collection."
"We do, and if you listen and follow directions, we'll see what we can do. If you're really good, I might even let Tabby sit on the same bean bag as you" I joked.
Patrick's face lit up, and I knew everything I needed to know about how he felt about Tabby, before it clouded and he shook his head. "Probably not a good idea. You want me to not strain myself, and well, Tabby kind of inspires that in me. I'm sure you understand."
"She is very inspiring," I agreed. "Still, use these next few days. I'm not going to lie to you Patrick, you put quite a shock into all of us when we took that mask off. To be honest, you were actually starting to tick Mark off with your antics."
Patrick sighed, and I went into the kitchen, getting the beginnings of a sandwich together. "Mark's the gourmet around here, but I can get you started. Nothing too fancy, but you won't be on rice porridge either."
Patrick
For the next three days, I focused on recovering my strength. While I understood Sophie's admonition that I try to take a week for recovery before going back to work, I doubted I'd be able to do it. First off, while I was the new council member, I was still expected to show up. If I was gone for so long, there'd be questions asked about where I was, especially since I wasn't at home or in any of the local hospitals. I couldn't risk that leading back to Tabby or my new friends.
For the rest of Saturday and Sunday, I was able to relax, slowly walking around the ground floor on Mount Zion when I had the energy, and sitting down with Tabby when I didn't. In a lot of ways, it was mundane. We didn't do much, a lot of her showing me around the inside of the house and such mostly. I was amazed as we did the tour, and I found all the ways they had hidden high tech devices for Mark to use in daily living and working areas. The most impressive had to be Mark's pocket sized computers, which could be plugged into any of a half dozen monitors around the house.
"So MJT really is a three person operation," I said after dinner on Saturday. "So what's your super power?"
"What do you mean?" Tabby asked, a small smile on her face. I found that I had spent most of the day smiling too, a condition that was quite common around her. Maybe it was the hair, or the beautiful eyes, but I doubted it. I think it was Tabby as a whole that had that affect on me.
"Well, Mark's the super warrior, Sophie's the doctor and from what I guess, a sniper too, so what's your super power?" I replied.
"I don't really have one," she said, blushing. "I guess every team needs a plain old Jane””
"You’re hardly plain or regular," I countered, causing her to blush. "In fact, I think you're special in a lot of ways."
"Patrick," Tabby said, her voice trembling. "This.... this is hard for me. My last relationship didn't end so well."
I knew more about it than what Tabby knew, but I didn't think it was the time to talk about that just yet. Instead, I answered from my heart. "Tabby... I'm here. I'm not saying you have to rush into anything. I was honestly surprised about the other night. Wonderfully so. It's not that I'm saying I want to sit around twiddling my thumbs, but you are special, and if it means we go slow on certain things, then I'm okay with that."
My face felt hot as I finished my statement, and I heaved myself to my feet. The wound in my back ached, but held. Sophie had done a good job. "Uhm, I'm going to walk around some. Sophie said I should do that often."
Leaving her, I turned right down the hallway, not really caring where I was going. I soon heard the sound of music coming from the gym, and entered slowly. I needed to clear my mind, and I figured nothing I saw there would be in any way challenging to my thought processes. I in for a surprise.
I had first thought, from the sounds that came out as I opened the door, that I'd find Mark alone. There were some pretty impressive weights being lifted by the sounds of things. Instead, when I opened the door I found Mark and Sophie both working out. Mark was stripped down to only some compression shorts, while Sophie was dressed in running shorts and a sports bra.
They were doing circuit training, although Mark was using weights that most men, well, I guess what you could call most normal men, would have considered heavy. He was practically jumping up and down with two hundred and twenty five pounds on his back, while Sophie was doing the same with a hundred and thirty five. They would go from there to swinging a kettle bell, to pushups, to pull-ups, and back to the squats with barely enough of a rest to move from one station to the next. I was tired just watching them.
Sophie noticed me first, dropping down from the pull-up bar and coming over. "I think I've hit my limit for today," she said, barely audible over the music. "After all, I'm in my second trimester. Mark's about halfway done."
I nodded and she left, patting me on the shoulder as she did. I found an empty box against the wall and sat down. My bullet wound ached, so I leaned back against the plaster behind me and watched as Mark finished his circuits. From there he moved on to rope climbing, which was pretty impressive considering they had set the gym up in the main sanctuary of what had been the church. The vaulted beam ceiling went all the way up to about twenty, maybe twenty-five feet, and Mark climbed it over and over again using just his arms.
As he climbed, I could sense that he noticed me, even though he never looked my way or said a word. As he finished up, he went over and grabbed his towel and bottle of water. Still facing away from me, he started speaking.
"You had guts, I'll give you that," Mark said, popping the top on his water and taking a deep pull, "but guts runs out very quickly. You damn near got yourself killed last time. And you almost got me killed in the process."
"I'm sorry about that," I said, humbled. "When you called me an amateur before, I thought you were just being an asshole. I didn't realize how right you were."
"Which is why I'm shocked at what I'm going to say," Mark replied, still facing away from me. As he talked he gestured with his free hand for emphasis, looking out the windows at times. "Out there, I need a partner. Someone I can depend on, someone I can work with. I'm limited in what I can do, mostly to small work, surveillance and information gathering, only doing direct action when I have to. The streets need more. I need a partner. But it has to be a partner I can trust, someone I know is going to have my back and I know can get the job done. If I can't have that, I'm better off working on my own. Before this, I had Sophie when I took down the Confederation and Lynch. Your guess earlier was right, she was the person who took down Petrokias. But she's pregnant, which means for at least a year, maybe a year and a half, maybe even forever, she's off the streets. If she comes back, it’ll be limited duty only because I will not have my daughter grow up with both her mother and father killed in this fool's crusade. So, despite what you've shown me, despite my better judgment, I'm going to extend you the offer. Before you answer, it’s going to be a lot of work before you step foot out there with me. Do you want to train, become my partner?"
"You mean your sidekick? The Robin to your Batman?" I asked. "And what about my day job?"
“That’s a big part of why I’m even considering this. It’ll be just as important as anything we do at night," Mark
replied. "Just like what Tabby does with the money I make is just as important, if not more important, than every criminal I take out with my hands or my guns. And no, I'm not looking for a sidekick, although you'd start in a similar role. If you know your comics, you know what happened to the first Robin. He grew up, became Nightwing, and for a while, he was Batman himself."
I considered his offer. "What do I need to do?"
Mark chuckled. "First, you have to recover from that wound. Then you're going to have to survive something even more painful."
"What?" I asked, a bit worried. "Martial arts training with you? Knives? Guns?"
Mark finally turned to me and shook his head, a sardonic grin on his features. "You're going to have to survive my wife."
Chapter 3
Patrick
That night I slept fitfully in the entertainment room. I would’ve loved to have had Tabby with me, but I’d been honest when I told Sophie that having her with me would have been too difficult for me. Despite the nearly constant pain I was in, and the stiffness in my back, having her nearby was so distracting I barely felt it. I knew that if she was in the same room as me dressed for bed, I would never have gotten any sleep, not without sex. And sex was not what my body could tolerate.
As I tossed and turned, the pain in my back increased. Sophie had checked my sutures after dinner, declaring that they were looking good. She even showed me a photo taken with her cell phone, and I couldn't really tell. I mean, how good is crusty tied up skin supposed to look like, anyway? It was still stained with the topical antiseptic she’d used for the surgery even, I looked like a golden carrot surrounded by large purplish black rings of bruising or something. The thing hurt.
Sighing, I sat up. Slowly rolling to the side, I made my way over to the rack of DVDs on the side, surprised that Mark hadn't had a Blu-Ray put in. Then again, maybe he had and I just hadn't seen them.
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