Coalition

Chapter Fifteen: Le cauchemar finit

'The truest wisdom is a resolute determination' Napoleon Bonaparte

Part Two

Two delicate coughs rang out. The sound echoed around the cave, dancing in the air like butterflies. The bats shuffled and silently squealed, made uncomfortable by the noise. The coughs were more like half-hearted attempts and resembled throaty sighs more than that which they were meant to be. A scuffle was audible as the rustle of sheets sounded throughout the cavernous, dark room. Dim lights lit several, specifically chosen areas, but otherwise, darkness prevailed.

Machinery, coldly glistening with its metallic shimmer as the dimmed lights playfully bounced off it, lit up vibrantly, as though awaking from hibernation. Lighting with a renewed life, the machines displayed blue technological blurs that were indistinguishable to the two recently opened blue eyes that were sticky with sleep. Beeping twice, the machines' collective alarm sounded silently within the building situated above the Cave.

Arching his neck, despite seeing through eyes awash with a distinct lack of focus, small receptors and electrodes could be seen. They clung to his chest with desperation, determined to protect him from whatever potential harm could befall him whilst he slept. Though yearning to rip them off and be free of the dratted things, he knew better and lay his head back down onto the soft white pillow that hugged it with a caring fondness he had not felt for days.

Allowing himself to relax, he observed that a dull pain still throbbed violently at the back of his brain. He'd obtained a ridiculous number of injuries. It was amateurish. Sighing, a slight twinge struck the four broken ribs that he had received. These twinges caused a visible grimace and finally, his entire face could be seen reacting. Mouth tightening, pursing, his cheeks lifted slightly, aiding the pressure placed on his eyes that caused them to close. The frown placed downwards force, ordering both of his eyes into a visible suppression associated with pain.

The frown faded as the pain dimly returned to its constant yet ebbing current that flowed through the back of his mind. He could hear, from experience and years of it, the lift shrieking slightly, metal chains clanging, as it slid down the shaft towards the Cave. It came to a halt, squeaking as it did, reminding him that he had to oil it at some point. Expecting the footsteps to emulate from the lift, his face failed to hide his surprise when footsteps sounded from the entrance he knew to be behind the grandfather clock.

They moved with noise and speed that he could, from vast experience, identify as the sound of a concerned Alfred. His shoes emitted a distinctive 'klopping' sound as they padded the floor of the cave and the squeak of the shoes' leather was ever so distinctive to Bruce's mind. There was also the pace. Alfred's normal pace mimicked with an almost inhuman precision, the beat of his heart, following a beat that could roughly be described as 1-2-1-2. However, when Alfred was concerned, the beat became slightly irregular, an extra third step being placed in, and the butler's strides became shorter when he felt the need for speed.

"Master Wayne?!" cried out the familiar English accent, vibrant and energetic with a concern that hadn't been heard for little over two years, "Master Bruce!?"

The concerned, sauntering klopping quickly transformed into an unfamiliar panicked, sprint. He'd never known Alfred run. Ever. He'd figured it was a mostly English sentiment, which explained why they were so notoriously poor when it came to the hundred metre sprint at Olympic events. There was a brief pause in between the sound of one shoe slapping the floor violently before the second one hit the ground with far more weight and noise than the first. It was as though Alfred had jumped down the three steps that led to the area in which his patient lay.

Thus, surprise was evident upon the face of Bruce Wayne, when Alfred's familiar face peered into view. Alfred was breathing with a slight irregularity, in that he'd just been running and his breath was audible; most times it seemed to be completely undetectable to the human ear. Concern glistened with sparkling vigour in the two bright orbs that stared down at Bruce. The hair atop Alfred's head was slightly un-kept, as though the man had been running his hand through it on an abnormally frequent basis. Small, barely visible beads of sweat clung to his forehead, attempting to hide in the shadow of his hair.

"Alfred?" queried Bruce, voice pure and clear. It was a pleasant feeling. There was no longer the blood coating his throat and mouth. For the first time since his capture, he could speak without forcefully lowering his voice to a range that seemed to naturally rumble like thunder. It was nice to hear his own, normal voice again. The one that sounded, all the time, in his mind as his thoughts raced across it. His true voice seemed, for all its distinctive masculinity, to hum vibrantly with life. It made him smile almost as much as seeing Alfred did.

"Oh," stated Alfred with an audible sigh of relief, "You're awake, Master Bruce."

"Unfortunately." groaned Bruce, as he shimmied up the bed, so his shoulders rested on the pillow. His body dully rumbled with pain as he did so but it didn't stop him from placing himself in a position to better communicate with his butler.

"There's plenty of morphine," began Alfred, eyes suddenly alight with concern, "If you-"

"No," assured Bruce, raising a hand to signal the negative, "I need to feel this."

"Oh, of course," sighed Alfred, eyes rolling with iconic scepticism, "How could I have forgotten? Did you know I read an article recently about dangerous jobs increasing one's vulnerability to psychological conditions such as masochism?"

"They'll publish anything in newspapers these days," retorted Bruce, playing along with the familiar game, "How long was I out?"

"Four days," replied Alfred, "I think that's a new personal best."

"Only four days?" asked Bruce, "Thought it'd be worse than that."

"Worse than four days, Sir?" teased Alfred, "You'll just have to try harder next time."

"It's good to see you, Alfred," stated Bruce Wayne, removing his lively blue eyes from those of his closest ally and turning them to the bats, which hung from the ceiling, and that were visible through the clear plastic that hung over the area protectively, "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise," assured Alfred, "I knew you'd come back."

"Really?" asked Bruce, whose sparkling blue orbs returned their contact to Alfred's, "I doubted it myself, to be honest."

"Yes," stated Alfred, "You'll always come back. As long as you want to, there's nothing in this Universe that can stop you."

"Hmm," said Bruce, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, "It's good to see you."

"So you keep telling me," smiled Alfred, "I'll be back in a minute, I'm going to fetch my tea."

Closing his eyes and nodding slightly to indicate his acknowledgement, Bruce managed to force himself into a sitting position as Alfred walked away. From his position, he could locate and press the button that raised the bed in such a way as to allow for him to lean whilst sitting up. The pillow sat comfortably between his back and the bed as he leant against the its frame. He sighed slightly, noticing that the pain seemed dimmer.

He had pulled his two arms free of the gleaming white sheets, where they sat the sheets awaiting examination. It didn't take long. His blue eyes were eager to see the extent of his injuries in their recovering state. His arms were virtually plastered in white strips with pinkish, pale, clammy skin visible in areas where bandages had not been employed to cover cuts. He could feel bruising and purplish-blue-black blots decorated the majority of his body, which he couldn't actually see because of the mummified appearance the bandages had caused him to take.

Bandages covered the two stab wounds he had received off Stirk and they, for all of their clean whiteness, were dulled by a brownish hue. His thighs, though only able to see them when he lifted the sheets, were completely bandaged. Being as it was Alfred who had treated him, he'd have expected to be in pyjamas but the butler was clearly concerned about the wounds and so wished to maintain visibility of them. Therefore, a pair of boxers sufficed for clothing beyond bandages and bed linen. Sighing, he relaxed his body, the Cave's coolness causing a ripple of goosebumps to crawl along his arms.

The silence was interrupted by whispering that wisped silently within the peripheries of his hearing. The bats, able to hear the sounds clearly, twittered and twisted anxiously, disliking any sort of noise beyond the cascading of the waterfall and quiet technological churns of the electronical gadgetry. Looking to the source of the sounds, which proved particularly difficult due to the nature of the Cave, a slight pressure forced a frown onto his face. The whispers were familiar, they had specific and audible twinges that distinguished them from each other and that he could recognise.

"I can hear you," shouted Bruce, his voice, in its natural state, echoing powerfully around the Cave with an authority that was not reserved solely for Batman, "You may as well come over here."

Like a collection of naughty children who'd just been told off by an angry guardian, the large group strolled into the Cave from the lift entrance. Frowning with a distinctly playful expression and a smug smile lifting his cheeks, Bruce watched them. Their eyes avoided his for a couple of seconds before all of their bright eyes fell upon him with an emotional weight that figuratively hit him like a bag of bricks. Those who were able, hovered over as though the floor wasn't quite exciting enough. Flash flew over in his normal blurry way and the humans of the group decided to walk, aiding Barbara down the steps by carrying her wheelchair.

There was a mixture of emotions from the group. It was difficult to tell whether he was going to be slapped, lectured and criticised or whether he was going to be hugged and mothered. Though, he observed sceptically with a quickly falling optimism, Dick was there so the chances for the latter had automatically fallen quite drastically. Dick didn't hate him by any stretch of the word but there was certainly an elevated level of dislike spiking from him aggressively. Psychopaths and sociopaths, Batman could deal with. Angry friends? Not so much.

"How are you feeling?" asked Barbara.

Thank you! declared Bruce mentally. Barbara, to his knowledge, was far more patient and several degrees less violent than some of those present. If she was the one starting the conversation, at least he couldn't be held responsible for it going off the rails. It was as if she knew that there would be some arguing and decided to start the mood in a relatively positive light, which, given her vast intellect, he was sure not to put past her.

"Okay," he began, before reflectively adding, "Surprisingly."

A silence fell upon the room. It was as though no one knew who should start off the argument or whether they should at all. It was more of an impasse than a silence. There was little else, in their eyes, to talk about other than Batman's vast stupidity in his actions regarding the coalition. Oddly, this silence persisted until Alfred returned with his cup of tea to break it. Once it had been broken, so had the patience and, figuratively speaking, all hell broke loose.

"Glad to see you found your way in," began Alfred, referring to the nine-strong group of people, "I thought I may have to provide maps."

"Maps!" shouted Hawk Girl, as though it were some sort of expletive, "Now that was a stupid idea!"

Bruce frowned. He knew where this was going. It wasn't exactly a common occurrence, mostly because they could never pin him down long enough to manage it, but occasionally, perhaps less regularly than once every blue moon, something like this happened. An international law, though how that many countries came to a consensus in the first place is somewhat of a miracle, dictated that the League required a performance review every so often and it was at these meetings that things like this would come up. At least, it would come up at some point in the meeting. Sometimes, other things would take priority but it always fed back to this. He sighed. No where to run this time.

"Oh the entire thing," snapped Diana, "Was a stupid idea!" she leant in, suddenly within deafening distance and shouted, "What were you thinking?!"

He'd learnt a while back that there was absolutely no point explaining until they'd calmed down. Though, most of the time, he'd left the room by that point so there was no point explaining to them at all. All he could do was appear nonchalant and wait until they'd finished fuming. He passed a look to Alfred who gazed back unsympathetically; the message in his eyes clear, 'Well, you do deserve it, Sir.' Even Tim, Dick and Barbara seemed to be completely in agreement. They'd probably join in at some point as well.

"I don't think he was thinking!" snapped Superman.

His mouth opened in defence before closing again.

"It was a coalition," began J'onn, "You knew there'd be more than one of them."

"Not only did you not call in back up," reproached the Green Lantern, "You actually sent it away!"

"To AFRICA!" added the Flash.

At this point, he disliked them. Severely.

"I've looked over your reconnaissance files," explained Barbara, ever the computer-hacking expert, "You knew Bane and Killer Croc would be there, together."

"You struggle to take down one of them on their own," spat Dick, gesturing wildly with his arms to signal just how totally mad his mentor's seemingly selfish behaviour had made him, "Then, you must have known that the Joker would be involved. That's three of the Majors. On top of that, you must have guessed that the Scarecrow would be there."

"From what I found," continued Barbara, "You also knew for a fact that Zsasz was with them. And we know how much you hate Zsasz."

"Five of the Majors," stated Tim, a furrowed brow contorting his face, "Five. And you still sent us away."

He opened his mouth, feeling he should, needing to defend himself, to explain.

"Then this bomb fiasco!" shouted Superman, whose voice, when raised, which was a rare occurrence in itself, was surprisingly scary, considering he was meant to be the Boy Scout of the League, "What were you playing at?"

"If you'd have given us the locations straight off," explained the Green Lantern, "We could have disarmed all of them."

"I could have disarmed all of them," added the Flash, "On my own in a minute flat."

"You could have gotten yourself killed." stated Diana.

"What if we hadn't have found the clues in time?" snapped Hawk Girl.

"Gotham, and you, would have been obliterated." stated J'onn coldly.

He needed to explain to them but, pausing he turned away.

"What were you thinking?" asked Superman, "All of the resources, the aide, the friends at your disposal and you went in there alone? Seriously, what was going through your head?"

He wasn't given time to formulate the answer.

"Why did you send us away?" asked Tim, sounding genuinely wounded.

"Did you think we needed protection!?" snapped Dick angrily, "That we couldn't handle a couple of the Majors we've spent years fighting alongside you?! The three of us would have stood a better chance!"

"You could have let us help," added Barbara, "You could have given us boundaries, told us not to pass a line but you could have let us help."

A silence swiftly fell and he took this opportunity to speak, though what little good that did would never become apparent, "You're beginning to repeat yourselves."

"Do you know why?" snapped Diana, "Because the same question is coming up, again and again!"

"It's so glaringly obvious!" snapped the Green Lantern.

"After all we've done," explained the Flash, "After all we've ever done."

"And you still don't trust us." stated Hawk Girl.

"No," began Bruce, defending the shattered, broken and crumbling remains of an argument, "It's not… I…"

"You never change," stated Dick, a defeated smile on his face, "Do you?"

"Just," snapped Bruce, frustrated by their inability to just hear him out, "Listen."

"What's the point?" asked Flash, "It's not as if you'd tell us the truth."

"LISTEN!" roared Batman.

His voice thundered throughout the cave as though it were the rumbling destructive force of nature itself. The bats leapt from their perches and fluttered about wildly, terrified by the forceful sound that had echoed around their home. His eyes had closed from the effort of shouting and his body was quickly overcome by an exhaustion and pain that had been kept away only by distraction. It was all too eager to return and remind him of the cost of what he had done.

He opened his eyes to regret. It was dim and well hidden beneath a façade of anger and woundedness that they were intent on playing up until he told them the truth. They seemed to recognise that perhaps it wasn't the best time to be bringing it up. Though, at the same time, they realised that it was probably the only chance they'd get to have some straight answers out of him. The entire group, for all of their determined anger, seemed surprised by the strength of the shout which effortlessly rivalled that of Superman.

"Please," he continued at a whisper, "It was never about trust. It was never about protecting you. You're overcomplicating the whole thing, as usual," he sighed slightly and raised his voice, ordering the computer, "Open designated file," he paused briefly, his memory straining under his condition, "20241004129."

The computer signalled its acknowledgement and blinkered itself on with a flash of distinctly blue light. It shimmered and glistened brightly. The League and Bat Family turned to Bruce, as though needing permission to investigate the file that had been opened up by the computer. They walked over, pausing only for the Green Lantern to create a ramp for Barbara's wheelchair, which she had yet to install jet rockets on. Only Alfred didn't join them, he had already seen the file. It was, in fact, Bruce who had shown it to him before he left.

"Sir," began Alfred, eyes virtually bleeding with concern, "Please don't."

"Don't worry," responded Bruce, swinging his screaming legs from under the sheets, allowing them to dangle from the side. He lifted himself from the bed and his legs immediately buckled under the weight. Grasping the bed for support, he pulled himself to his feet and straightened. Looking to Alfred, whose eyes had drifted to a bright red patch that had stained the bandages on his patient's legs, Bruce smiled slightly, "This time, I plan on using my resources."

***

"Bats is alive!?"

"Assumedly," came the response which was somewhat calmer than the hysterical voice that had posed the question, "The League was seen carrying him off somewhere."

"…" paused the Clown, "Oh well, there's always next time."

Four of the escapees had moved. They had escaped and found there way to a room in a high rise building. It was a very affluent high rise so there had been no vacancies. That was, until they made some vacancies. It was an enormous flat, which occupied half of the entire floor. It gazed out onto the mid-morning sunlight that bathed the city. The Joker had raided the fridge and made his way about wrecking the flat for no reason other than it was something to occupy his mind for a few short minutes before boredom replaced it.

The Scarecrow was standing beside the window, his body limp as his namesake. It was as though he would fall over if so much as pushed. A frown fell across his face, though the mask obscured it. He knew his enemy was alive. Batman had an unpleasing inability to die. No matter how many times he was taken to the edge and placed in front of Death's door, he always managed to squirm himself away. That, and he had a determination that was simply inhuman.

"We can't assume he survived," stated another, "They were intent on keeping him away from the helicopters."

"Yeah but Batsy hates the tv anyway," replied the Joker, voice cackling wildly, "I hoped he might have just died slowly. Stupid spandex team. If they hadn't have shown up, he'd probably be dead!"

"I doubt it," replied the Scarecrow, staring out of the window absentmindedly, "It would take more than that to kill him."

"More than severe blood loss, a collapsed lung and enough bullets to make a necklace in his legs?" queried Poison Ivy, "He is human."

"I wonder." stated the Scarecrow.

"Meh," declared the Joker, "Fact is: we need another plan."

"What'll we do this time," asked Harley, voice brimming with childish excitement, "Mistah-J?"

The Scarecrow turned around briefly. The two garish figures lit up the room with a vibrancy that was simply sickening. It was also astounding that the stupid girl had failed to realise the Joker's intentions. She used to be a psychiatrist. Now it was as if she could barely analyse simple body language. She pressed herself against him, and he barely looked at her, seeing her as an object, rather than a human. The two were as deluded as each other.

"I'm not sure, Harley," began the Joker, "Hey, Crow-Face! Is there a new Mayor?"

"Yeah," responded the God of Fear, "Elected him last week. Don't you watch the news?"

"I watch the cartoons," responded the Clown coldly, "I think we should pay him a visit, don't you?"

The Scarecrow and Poison Ivy exchanged glances. The two shrugged consensually. It wasn't as if they had anything better to be doing. Harley and Joker led the way, Harley skipping slightly ahead of the Joker carrying his new weaponry. The two less insane, if that could be said about them at all, inmates followed. Hopefully, they thought, Batman would show up. Somehow, everything was just a whole lot more interesting when he was around.

***

"Whoa." stated the Flash, speaking the words that no one else could as their mouths had been frozen in place by the revelation of the file Bruce had shown them. It suddenly made sense, why he had done so many seemingly incredibly stupid things that wasted time and effort. A part of each of them felt, to a degree, guilty for the telling off they had given him, but, by the same degree, this was the first time he had ever actually explained his decisions fully. Therefore, the telling off was for all of the other occasions.

"There wasn't anything I could do," echoed Bruce's voice which seemed to become louder, as though he were approaching them, "I would have if I could."

At that point, no one turned around. If they had, they would not have been impressed but for the time being, Bruce's increasingly close voice seemed perfectly normal. They were entranced by the information on the screen. Whilst they still had questions, the file certainly answered some of them. It would be down to Bruce to give them the answers the file couldn't. Whilst normally this might have been a difficult task, his bed-confining injuries made conversation a whole lot easier. Or so they thought.

"So…" began the Flash, struggling to understand what he'd just seen, "You knew everything from the start?"

"You knew all of them, that there were five bombs and you still didn't call us?" snapped Superman, frustrated.

"You've read the file," spat Bruce, "There was no time!"

"Time enough to make clues and maps and put them around the city." retorted Hawk Girl.

"No," stated Bruce simply, "I'd made those clues years ago, and the maps. All I had to do was put them in place and put the locations on the last clues."

"What about the recordings?" asked J'onn.

"Did them as soon as I got the message," replied Bruce, "I had half an hour, enough time to put the clues around and record them but not enough for anything else."

"What about sending us on a wild goose chase?" snapped Dick angrily, "To Africa?"

"Automated system," was the response, "Whenever I've notified the computer that I'm walking into a trap, if I don't respond to a signal from the Cave's computer after twenty four hours, it activates. It sends you three a message and books you flights."

"Why though?" asked Tim, "We could have helped!"

"No," stated Bruce almost coldly, "There were fourteen of them, even with the three of you, that wouldn't have been enough."

"So you were enough?!" asked the Green Lantern, questioning the logic of his colleague.

"No. In fact, that's the very reason the system was created."

"I don't understand." stated Diana, speaking for most people in the room.

"I didn't want to risk them finding me the way you did."

There was a pause. The League couldn't argue with that. It was perfectly logical for, what was essentially, a father to want to protect his – practically – children from seeing him in pain. As Flash mentally observed, Batman had been pretty beat up and the state of the room had been enough to dull even the League's reactions. Despite their ages and experience, seeing something like that would not have been beneficial to the Bat Family.

"Why didn't you notify Dad?" asked Barbara, still confused by that much.

"The Joker had given me half an hour to get to the location before he set off the bombs. I made it in the nick of time as it was, any longer and Gotham would have been wiped from the maps."

Distantly, speedy klopping padded the Cave's floor. The group didn't turn around as they assumed it was a sound that was supposed to be heard. It wasn't until the owner of the klopping ceased their noisy running and spoke that they thought something of it. Alfred had stopped once beside Bruce and panted slightly before recovering and crying out desperately words that he had been whispering repeatedly minutes earlier.

"Please! Master Bruce!" cried Alfred's voice, breaking intermittently as though he had been speaking for several minutes and was continuing despite knowing the pointlessness of the action, "I must insist that you lie back down. Your wounds!"

"Lie," began Superman, working out the implications of what Alfred had said, "Back down?"

The nine-strong group span around in almost perfect synchrony. They then proceeded to frown simultaneously. The women present then placed their hands on their hips. Superman and Dick, at the centre of the semi-circle of superheroes, sighed precisely at the same time, holding their hands and massaging their brow. Tim and the Flash smiled slightly and rolled their eyes, as though they were withholding some clever quip that they were just dying to let loose. Bruce observed that they would have made an excellent synchronised swimming team.

"What," began Dick with a distinctively disapproving frown upon his face, "Are you doing?"

"Some of them escaped," explained Batman, "I'm going after them."

Moments like this reminded him why he always kept spares. The new, unused armour was mostly obscured by the long black fabric that draped over his shoulders neatly. Though not showing it, the armour sat uncomfortably over his bandaged body and his ribs immediately felt the effects of the pressure the body armour placed on them. For all of the protective benefits of the suit, he felt very vulnerable in it: no doubt his mind telling him that it had offered little protection just days earlier. Either way, the presence of his utility belt encouraged a flame of confidence in his heart to flourish.

He was carrying his cowl in his hands. Despite the terrifying and powerful presence that the suit evoked, the ever so slight pain and discomfort was clear in his blue eyes. He was trying to force himself into a familiar posture that his body simply did not wish to respond to. Thus, a slight limp seemed present and, though his eyes glistened with strength and determination, his body followed them with about as much enthusiasm as a teenager. Alfred, recognising this, stood behind Batman with his hands away from his side and his legs bent; as though he were expecting his young friend to suddenly collapse in a heap on the floor.

"No you're not." snapped Diana simply.

"Yes," retorted Bruce, "I am."

"You can't go after them like that!" ordered Barbara, "You have a just healed collapsed lung!"

"You wanna go and collapse it again?" asked Dick, following Barbara's line of argument, "What'll you do if it collapses?"

Jokingly, Batman shrugged and responded with a slight smile on his face, "I'll use the other one."

"Not funny." hissed Superman, poking Batman in the chest with a finger.

"You're not going on your own." stated the Green Lantern simply.

"We won't let you." agreed hawk Girl.

Turning his back and obscuring the smile that had further raised his spirits, he put on his mask. Unlike the rest of the armour, which pressed uncomfortably against his recovering body, the cowl felt right. He tensed his muscles and relaxed, allowing his body to fill the suit as best it could in its bandaged condition. Sighing and flexing his fists, he adjusted his belt before walking towards the car which he had missed for the few days he had been away from it. He paused before getting in, turned around and frowned slightly, faking confusion.

"Aren't you coming?"

The League smiled. They followed him as the car revved powerfully and exploded through the waterfall that obscured one of the Cave's many entrances. The Bat Family remained in the Cave, somewhat annoyed and confused by events. Tim frowned and folded his arms, "I can't believe he didn't wait for me."

"Tough luck, Tim." stated Dick, placing a hand on his successor's shoulder.

"At least he asked for help this time." praised Barbara.

"He didn't," explained Alfred, "He asked if they were going with him."

"Surprise, surprise," sighed Dick, "He'll never change."

"Probably not." agreed Alfred.

The three of them had left the Cave at this point, returning to the Manor via the lift. It was Tim who was left alone in the dim blackness of the dank Cave. A frown still covered his young face, a genuine sense of being physically wounded bled from him. Sighing he declared to the bats above, "I can't believe he didn't wait for me."

Fin

A/N: Hopefully this wraps everything up. If it doesn't, let me know so I can re-upload one that does.

And so, normality is restored as Batman (injured, yet again) purposely goes out of his way to find Arkham escapees even though he should be resting in bed.

I plan on doing another Batman FF but it won't be like this one, in that, it won't centre around Batman getting the living daylights beaten out of him. And the Justice League probably won't be in it. I'll see how it goes.

Thanks again to everyone who's been tracking, reading and reviewing this story. I find this hard to believe myself but this story is easily the size of a book (as it's over 50,000 words long). Blimey. That's a whole lot of words.