Stephanie's Journal: Terminal
I've been in panic before. I mean, when Crow kidnapped Tim, when Jackie lost it on Roadkill, all that stuff. But they're not the same kind of panic I felt today. You see, today I felt panic in the batcave, a place I always believed was safe. I felt that panic for Bruce, and man I thought could never be brought down. Now here he is on a bed, sweating up a storm and breathing for his life. Me, Tim, and Alfred have done all we can for him, and we're waiting for Leslie to arrive. Though at this rate, I don't think she can do much. Tim caught a glimpse of what Bruce was looking at on the Batcomputer. Nothing but medical records on something called Fucus Anhelitus Febris. A medical term for Crimson Fever. Simply put, it's terminal, and a lousy way to go. I'm busy on a laptop trying to see if it can at least be held off while Tim and Alfred stand by Bruce at his bedside.
"You sure you don't know what to do?"
"MI-6 taught me limited medical terminology, Timothy. Gunshot wounds and lacerations I'm more than experienced with. Retched plagues like this, though..."
"So...we've got nothing..."
"The fault is mine. When Bruce arrived home last night, I couldn't help but notice a peculiar smell on him. A horrid stench to match this horrid disease. I implored him about it but he wouldn't answer. If I had just been more--"
"Enough. Even if you knew beforehand, there wasn't much you could do."
"I'm aware, Timothy. But..."
All the medical records I'm pulling up are useless. I'm just getting oh-so-vivid descriptions and basically life expediencies. At this stage, Bruce has 1-2 agonizing weeks before the fever either overheats him or his lungs rot away. The stupidest thing I did was actually look at some autopsy pics. The instant they appeared on screen, I remember letting out a small horrified shriek and slamming the laptop shut. The image of the rotted organs was still fresh in my mind, though. It wasn't so much the disgusting images that scared the hell out of me. It was that something that horrifying was gonna happen to Bruce. Like Tim, I owe so much to the man. He's just as much of the reason I'm here that Tim is. He's been more of a father to me than my real one ever was. And to imagine this was the way he was gonna go...I teared up a bit thinking about it. Tim saw this and asked me what's wrong. I just hand the laptop off to him. He opens it up, sees the image, and his hand slams into his face in a combo of horror and distraught.
"No...no, no, no, no...."
"Timothy...I think it's time we started making preparations."
'W-what? Preparations for what?"
"I'm calling Richard soon. I'm expecting him to be out of Bludhaven within the next 24 hours. Master Bruce has an entire catalog of cover up storie-"
"Y--you can't be serious!"
"Timothy, I'm sorry. It pains me as much as it does you, but we have to face that there's nothing we can do."
"You gotta be kidding! Of all the people here I'd expect you to stick with him! You're just gonna leave him to die like this!?"
"Tim, please..."
"Please nothing!! Do either of you know how much we owe to this guy?! He's saved our sorry asses more times than I can count. And for all I've done for him and to just let him go like this!?"
"Timothy, please be reasonable-"
"If none of you want to help him, fine! But I'm not gonna let it end like this! I owe him too much see him go like this!"
Tim storms out of the infirmary. Alfred stands there defeated as I watch Tim walk out of the cave. As if today didn't have enough drama... I just felt more distraught seeing Tim walk out on us like that. And the sound of Bruce behind me breathing for his life didn't help...
Stephanie's Journal: Terminal
I've been in panic before. I mean, when Crow kidnapped Tim, when Jackie lost it on Roadkill, all that stuff. But they're not the same kind of panic I felt today. You see, today I felt panic in the batcave, a place I always believed was safe. I felt that panic for Bruce, and man I thought could never be brought down. Now here he is on a bed, sweating up a storm and breathing for his life. Me, Tim, and Alfred have done all we can for him, and we're waiting for Leslie to arrive. Though at this rate, I don't think she can do much. Tim caught a glimpse of what Bruce was looking at on the Batcomputer. Nothing but medical records on something called Fucus Anhelitus Febris. A medical term for Crimson Fever. Simply put, it's terminal, and a lousy way to go. I'm busy on a laptop trying to see if it can at least be held off while Tim and Alfred stand by Bruce at his bedside.
"You sure you don't know what to do?"
"MI-6 taught me limited medical terminology, Timothy. Gunshot wounds and lacerations I'm more than experienced with. Retched plagues like this, though..."
"So...we've got nothing..."
"The fault is mine. When Bruce arrived home last night, I couldn't help but notice a peculiar smell on him. A horrid stench to match this horrid disease. I implored him about it but he wouldn't answer. If I had just been more--"
"Enough. Even if you knew beforehand, there wasn't much you could do."
"I'm aware, Timothy. But..."
All the medical records I'm pulling up are useless. I'm just getting oh-so-vivid descriptions and basically life expediencies. At this stage, Bruce has 1-2 agonizing weeks before the fever either overheats him or his lungs rot away. The stupidest thing I did was actually look at some autopsy pics. The instant they appeared on screen, I remember letting out a small horrified shriek and slamming the laptop shut. The image of the rotted organs was still fresh in my mind, though. It wasn't so much the disgusting images that scared the hell out of me. It was that something that horrifying was gonna happen to Bruce. Like Tim, I owe so much to the man. He's just as much of the reason I'm here that Tim is. He's been more of a father to me than my real one ever was. And to imagine this was the way he was gonna go...I teared up a bit thinking about it. Tim saw this and asked me what's wrong. I just hand the laptop off to him. He opens it up, sees the image, and his hand slams into his face in a combo of horror and distraught.
"No...no, no, no, no...."
"Timothy...I think it's time we started making preparations."
'W-what? Preparations for what?"
"I'm calling Richard soon. I'm expecting him to be out of Bludhaven within the next 24 hours. Master Bruce has an entire catalog of cover up storie-"
"Y--you can't be serious!"
"Timothy, I'm sorry. It pains me as much as it does you, but we have to face that there's nothing we can do."
"You gotta be kidding! Of all the people here I'd expect you to stick with him! You're just gonna leave him to die like this!?"
"Tim, please..."
"Please nothing!! Do either of you know how much we owe to this guy?! He's saved our sorry asses more times than I can count. And for all I've done for him and to just let him go like this!?"
"Timothy, please be reasonable-"
"If none of you want to help him, fine! But I'm not gonna let it end like this! I owe him too much see him go like this!"
Tim storms out of the infirmary. Alfred stands there defeated as I watch Tim walk out of the cave. As if today didn't have enough drama... I just felt more distraught seeing Tim walk out on us like that. And the sound of Bruce behind me breathing for his life didn't help...