death is the road to awe — clint mansell
together we will live forever — clint mansell
my boy builds coffins (acoustics) — florence + the machine
signs (acoustic) — bloc party
everything in it's right place — radiohead
overjoyed — bastille
bonkers — dizzee rascal
where's the van? — simon viklund
together we will live forever — clint mansell
my boy builds coffins (acoustics) — florence + the machine
signs (acoustic) — bloc party
everything in it's right place — radiohead
overjoyed — bastille
bonkers — dizzee rascal
where's the van? — simon viklund
He's not quite sure how he managed to give Joe coherent directions to the Manor from the grave that night, how and why it fell from him as if he'd always known it was waiting for him same as his parents' graves. Or how he on Earth he managed to get the key in the lock—maybe the Manor just knows him, knows to let him in.
He does know that waking up the next morning to his old familiar bed, to Joseph's wings and arms around him, the faint smell of his mother's perfume, and the sounds of the Manor moving about are soothing. More than he ever anticipated before, peeking up to look at the huge cieling, the wing around him keeping him cool. Little pieces of the Manor are familiar to Michael in the way that Bruce's memories always feel as if parts of them are pulled from separate pieces of his own life, whether it makes sense or not. The drawing looks like one of the ones he made as a child when things at home were better with his birth parents; the carpets resemble the house of his Nonna in Palermo and how he liked to walk on them barefoot while his parents talked; the windows remind him more of cathedrals he's been to that he's liked; the minks he find in the closet are almost like the ones his mother has at home. He points out some of it when they wake up together, waiting for food to get to the house.
To both of their immense relief, there's actual dust to clean up, moths to deal with, and windows that are grimy enough that they have to clean up.
It's not too hard to call in for a real cleaning crew before work, Michael climbing behind Joe on his bike, wrapping his arm around his waist. The familiar weight, the sure way he takes to the road is steadying, able to help the rhythm of things. Work grinds on in a familiar way too, Michael able to take a backseat on certain things while Bruce gets down to it. There's always that point of day where the office empties, where Terry sends him a menu or he kicks one over. Times where he waves to the other people in the office and he goes to see Joseph in his own office, Ace at a pace beside him. Waving to the people there, slipping in to sit on Joe's couch with hot food, setting all up while he takes another call or come over to kiss him, helping him out of his jacket and shirt before he goes to undo the straps to allow his wings to come out.
Or sometimes it happens at his own office, putting the straps down and allowing Joseph to pull him to the bed or to the food waiting for them or just to a corner for a few stolen moments.
Slowly but surely, the grief eases, between picking up Jarro to show him around the Manor and buying a new dog bowl for Ace to put in the freshly clean kitchen, and teasing Terry about his situation or watching Joseph try to pretend he doesn't have treats for Ace.
The grief that always rises up on the anniversary doesn't leave—it can never really never truly leave him, never end. It eases up though, as the time goes by. Becomes breathable again, navigable again, and the world feels like it comes back upright.
He's not alone with the grief, with himself. It's a good reminder.
He does know that waking up the next morning to his old familiar bed, to Joseph's wings and arms around him, the faint smell of his mother's perfume, and the sounds of the Manor moving about are soothing. More than he ever anticipated before, peeking up to look at the huge cieling, the wing around him keeping him cool. Little pieces of the Manor are familiar to Michael in the way that Bruce's memories always feel as if parts of them are pulled from separate pieces of his own life, whether it makes sense or not. The drawing looks like one of the ones he made as a child when things at home were better with his birth parents; the carpets resemble the house of his Nonna in Palermo and how he liked to walk on them barefoot while his parents talked; the windows remind him more of cathedrals he's been to that he's liked; the minks he find in the closet are almost like the ones his mother has at home. He points out some of it when they wake up together, waiting for food to get to the house.
To both of their immense relief, there's actual dust to clean up, moths to deal with, and windows that are grimy enough that they have to clean up.
It's not too hard to call in for a real cleaning crew before work, Michael climbing behind Joe on his bike, wrapping his arm around his waist. The familiar weight, the sure way he takes to the road is steadying, able to help the rhythm of things. Work grinds on in a familiar way too, Michael able to take a backseat on certain things while Bruce gets down to it. There's always that point of day where the office empties, where Terry sends him a menu or he kicks one over. Times where he waves to the other people in the office and he goes to see Joseph in his own office, Ace at a pace beside him. Waving to the people there, slipping in to sit on Joe's couch with hot food, setting all up while he takes another call or come over to kiss him, helping him out of his jacket and shirt before he goes to undo the straps to allow his wings to come out.
Or sometimes it happens at his own office, putting the straps down and allowing Joseph to pull him to the bed or to the food waiting for them or just to a corner for a few stolen moments.
Slowly but surely, the grief eases, between picking up Jarro to show him around the Manor and buying a new dog bowl for Ace to put in the freshly clean kitchen, and teasing Terry about his situation or watching Joseph try to pretend he doesn't have treats for Ace.
The grief that always rises up on the anniversary doesn't leave—it can never really never truly leave him, never end. It eases up though, as the time goes by. Becomes breathable again, navigable again, and the world feels like it comes back upright.
He's not alone with the grief, with himself. It's a good reminder.
Still, his dreams are odd during the trip. It seems as if every dream involves Bruce: a man with skin completely white and wild dark hair who offers Bruce a helmet that is ancient and old that Michael realizes is hanging from a bracelet on his wrist that day that hadn't been before. The next dream is a haze that he can't quite recall in the morning, only that he's very sure he ate a birthday cake with someone in a Bat costume that was much too small for the costume. In another dream though, well—
Bruce knows it's not exactly a dream when he looks at the terminal in front of him. This is a Bat Computer he recognizes, one that is outdated for today's time but back then had been more than twenty years too early. He blinks down at it, looking at, at how it seems to have every old detail that he had in that Bat Computer—and then it shivers, shifts towards the one he'd had in Neo Gotham, only sleeker, the first version he'd built before he'd missed the old feel, broken it down, and retrofitted it. It's dusty, and he pulls back, rubbing at his eyes.
It's a Batcave, one made up of several of them at once around him. Only every bit of it he can tell is artificial in nature, all built off of technology that bordered on wizardry in it's stature and how advanced it is.
"I guess you're Tsunetomo's wedding gift to me. We were supposed to come get you in the morning," he says, his voice echoing in the not-quite-dream. His hand cuts through the dust, looking at the touch screen, the glow there as words appear:
Michael grins to himself. "Sure. What do you have in mind for customization?"
Lights flicker, run through in a ribbon of rainbow before him and Bruce.
Bruce knows it's not exactly a dream when he looks at the terminal in front of him. This is a Bat Computer he recognizes, one that is outdated for today's time but back then had been more than twenty years too early. He blinks down at it, looking at, at how it seems to have every old detail that he had in that Bat Computer—and then it shivers, shifts towards the one he'd had in Neo Gotham, only sleeker, the first version he'd built before he'd missed the old feel, broken it down, and retrofitted it. It's dusty, and he pulls back, rubbing at his eyes.
It's a Batcave, one made up of several of them at once around him. Only every bit of it he can tell is artificial in nature, all built off of technology that bordered on wizardry in it's stature and how advanced it is.
"I guess you're Tsunetomo's wedding gift to me. We were supposed to come get you in the morning," he says, his voice echoing in the not-quite-dream. His hand cuts through the dust, looking at the touch screen, the glow there as words appear:
YES. HELLO, BRUCE-MICHAEL WAYNE-TERRANOVA. THIS IS YOUR NEW MOTHERBOX SPEAKING!YES. THIS IS A MINDSPACE I'VE CREATED TO TALK TO YOU-MICHAEL IN. I TIRED OF WAITING, SO I REACHED OUT TO YOU. TSUNETOMO HASN'T HAD USE OF ME IN THIS LIFE, AND I AM EAGER TO DO MORE THAN COLLECT DUST. IN YOUR MINDSPACE, WE CAN SKIP THE TRIP. ALL I HAVE TO DO IS CUSTOMIZE MYSELF FOR YOU HERE, AND WE CAN GET TO LEARNING EACH OTHER.Michael grins to himself. "Sure. What do you have in mind for customization?"
Lights flicker, run through in a ribbon of rainbow before him and Bruce.
THINK OF SOMETHING. ANYTHING.
They do a lot of things on the island: Michael decides to indulge in old smoking habits, making sure to buy enough that he can take plenty back home for himself; they go out to night clubs where they can to dance together beneath the rotating lights, close bodies, the music thrumming between them; they walk Ace and Jarro down darkened streets at night, knowing no one was watching, just enjoying the night life; they go somewher private where Joe can spread his wings and Jarro can split into different versions of himself and Ace just relaxes; Michael browses shops for Superman toys that he can ship back and then spends idle time in a record store by himself for an hour while Ace and Joseph eat lunch together and pop into souvenir booths; they tour a temple where Michael feels something more in the air, something that tells him he's been here before; he calls his parents when he's sure they're awake and he lets Jarro show Connor some of the things they've got for him.
The beach is warm, beautiful. The party going on is normal, gregarious. It's a mix of tourists and natives and Michael likes the feeling in his chest, as he and Joseph talk and drink and and allow their fingers to interlock and kisses to exchange and simply sink into a feeling of happiness. It feels earned, it feels good and the part of him that is Bruce knows that he doesn't have to hang up everything to have this. That if a Signal goes up, if a message comes through, Joseph will be right there with him.
The chain he puts on Joseph's wrist. The pendants go around his neck and the words he has are for Joe alone, the sound swallowed up by the sea. That's exactly how it's meant to be.
There's no talking about leaving because they're both right where they want to be, with each other.
There's no talking about leaving because they're both right where they want to be, with each other.