Alternate People Ch. 4

It was 7:00 am now… Terry stretched his stiff muscles and marked the page of the book and then put it down on the couch as he got up. He then wandered over to the counter there in the far corner. He took out the filter coffee from a cupboard and set it down by the coffee machine. He then put it in the filter and turned on the machine. He took down a cut and sat on a stool behind the bar in the kitchen that was there. He just sat there staring out into space.  The aroma of the coffee filled the air, reminding Terry of the fact he hadn’t eaten all day. He got up and looked through the refrigerator; he found some eggs and bacon. He remembered taking a cooking class last year in school…It had taught him the necessities of cooking good meals for himself, Dana and Bruce… Terry frowned and started cooking on the stove there. The sound of sizzling filled the air as he cooked both the eggs and the bacon; their smells too filled the air with the coffee. Terry’s stomach rumbled angrily as the food finally finished. Terry had made enough to feed Bruce, and he had been right in doing so, because as he turned around he saw Bruce groaning and trying to sit up. Terry placed the food on plates and then on the counter.

“You might want to stay lying down, Bruce. I imagine those wounds hurt a lot.”

“Hmm?” Bruce looked over to Terry, confused, “Um..” He rubbed his head, “What happened?”

Terry took his time getting a tray before saying, “An accident, really, but it depends on what you remember.”

Bruce frowned in thought. He took his time before answering.

“I don’t know…Everything’s just…blank.”

“Tell me what you can remember,” Terry urged, putting the plates on the tray, pouring some coffee into a mug and adding some sugar and milk, the way he knew the Bruce HE knew liked it. He walked on over to the bed, placed the tray on the table and helped Bruce into a sitting position.

“I…just that I’m Bruce Wayne a billionaire…my parents died when I was eight…and…” Bruce just shook his head, grimacing as he did. He just trailed off. Terry put the tray on the bed and Bruce pulled it toward him carefully and started eating as Terry got up and went to eat his own food. There was silence but for the scraping of forks. Terry took something out of his pocket and put it to his ear.
He pressed the center of it…

“Hey…I suggest not coming up…Yeah…just like you thought…Mhm…yeah.” He brought his hand off of it and put the devise back in his pocket.
Bruce finished drinking his coffee and gave a soft sigh. Terry walked over to the couch where he had been reading the book on magic. Only now did he notice how old it looked. He looked at both covers…

This book belongs to Bruce Wayne, a gift from Zattana. He saw written on the front cover.

So this was real magic? Terry looked up and saw Bruce watching him with the air of someone bored and ready to get out of bed at the first chance…

Terry picked up the remote and tossed it to Bruce, whom, though surprised at this, caught it faster than even he seemed to notice. Terry smiled to himself. At least Bruce’s reflexes were as good as ever. Bruce just shrugged and turned on the TV facing him, flipping through the channels. Terry sort of just rolled his shoulders, grimacing.

“Oh, right, I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you my name…” Terry said. “I’m Terry McGinnis, I work for you.”

“McGinnis…hm…I’ve heard that name before…” Bruce muttered. Terry just chuckled.

“You probably just remember hearing my dad’s name on the News..Mmm.” Terry went and sat down on the couch, flipping through the book. Then it struck him. Maybe there was something for memory loss in there? He went to the index and ran his finger down it. No…nothing.

“Damn it,” Terry cursed to himself as he found nothing. He got up and looked to the TV. Something caught his eye.

“Turn it up,” He said to Bruce, who did so. A newswoman was speaking.

“And here is the scene of where the Jokers nearly blew a Chemical plant apart, what they are after, Police still do not know. Though there are people saying that they saw Batman there trying to stop the Jokers, but was seemingly overwhelmed by their strength in numbers. Bob, back to you.”

Terry sort of just stood there for a moment. Bruce shifted on his bed and changed the channel, flipping through them again. Terry went back over to the couch again and looked through the book again, nothing caught his eye so he just threw it aside and walked over to the bookcase again, thumbing through it.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked, movement coming from his general area.

“Looking for something.” Terry mumbles.

“Like what?”

Terry sighs and looks around to see Bruce standing and in some brown shorts and a black T-shirt. Bruce sat on back down on his bed.

“What?” He asked, noticing the rather curious and surprised look on Terry’s face.

“I told you to stay lying down…Doesn’t it hurt?” Terry asks.

Bruce just shook his head, “Not as much as I thought it would…”

“Weird.” And Terry resumed looking through the books, finally taking out a dictionary, there had been two, maybe three of them, and he had found it odd…He brought all three down and opened each of them. Dictionary number one…Nothing. Number two, Nothing. Number Thr----

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked, from his perch on his bed. Terry rubbed his head. Bruce’s curiosity was starting to bug him. He opened the book again and looked right on through it. Halfway through the pages had been cut apart for a medium sized book to be placed in there. Terry took it out.

“ Weird.”   Terry muttered before looking over it, opening the cover and blinking. What the hell? Was this a journal? For Bruce of all people? He looked from it to Bruce and back again. He walked over to Bruce.

“Here Read it, it might help.” Terry turned and  started to leave the room. Then it hit him, it felt as if his blood were on fire, all of it seemingly boiling inside him. He’d never felt anything like it--!

“Terry!” The sounds of footsteps and someone shaking him. He must have yelled without realizing it…

“Terry! Can you hear me…?”

“Uhn…barely…hnk!” He coughed hard, nearly choking on his own spit. Terry shrugged off his jacket; everything…felt so hot right now. Terry staggered up. Bruce took a hold of him and turned him towards him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking very serious.

“Must be…some kind of fever…but how? Feels… like my blood is on fire…” Bruce frowned and took a hold of Terry’s arm, skin to skin as if to pull him up…The pain increased to a tenfold to Terry, who let out a yelp. Bruce suddenly let go of Terry the moment that pain had flared up and stepped back. He looked confused if anything, it seemed both of them didn’t understand what had happened just then. Bruce turned and walked over to the barcounter… Terry got up. The pain that had suddenly made itself known had vanished, but it had left Terry shivery and feeling something like having just gotten over the flu. He walked over to the counter where Bruce was. Bruce looked like he was going to be sick…

“I guess I should get you a nice big glass of icewater too, then?” He asked as he got down a glass cup.

“Yeah…or you can make it a nice cold glass of brandy…” He muttered.

“Wow…what happened? Why did you sort of just…stumble and leave me on the ground there?”

Bruce just shook his head, “Just get me the brandy, Terry.” He mumbled, shrugging, Terry went around to a cabinet that he saw and opened it and beheld several bottles of wine and the like and had to search for the brandy, before getting out another glass, some ice from the freezer, and then put it to both drinks.
He started to give Bruce the brandy but stopped.

“What happened?” He asked again, folding his arms carefully, holding the brandy. He held it like one would hold a dog treat over a dog that knew you were holding it.
A sigh.

“Fine. Just a jumble of voices and images…That’s it.” Terry shook the glass a bit more. He knew he was pushing it he would never have dared tantalize the Bruce he knew like this. He stared at Bruce and Bruce stared back. Terry thought he saw something flicker in Bruce’s eyes. They did this for who know how long before…

“Fine, Apparently I was fighting someone or…something…kept hearing some kind of noise like a…hm…like a sheet being blown around in the wind…”
Terry smirked.

“Not a sheet, a cape, one like what Batman used to wear.” Terry gave Bruce the glass at long last, moving around him and going back to the couch. He wondered if Bruce would catch onto what he was saying…

“So you’re saying that I was fighting someone with Batman? What?” He asked, turning to keep Terry in sight. Terry facepalmed.

“No, but close.” Terry slipped his hand into his pocket, a pocket that was hidden from sight due to the positioning of the couch.

“What are you trying to---“ Bruce’s eyes widened as a batrang was hurled right at him, he flinched back but his hands shot up as if they had minds of their own and caught the batarang.

Bruce looked to Terry then back to the batrang….