"What about Patrick?"
"It depends on his personal schedule, and if he has an assistant yet. If he does, he can give them a call tomorrow, tell them he got food poisoning or a nasty cold or something. I've worked with people who've had gun shots to the chest before, he'll be able to talk as soon as he wakes up. He's not going to be able to leave here though for close to a week, not unless there’s an emergency. Which leaves us with the big problem."
"What do we do with him here in the bell tower," I said, looking around. While there was nothing inside the tower loft itself to identify us or where we were, the slatted sides where the bell sounds used to go out were a big hint, along with the vaulted ceiling that clearly showed the massive beams that used to support the bells. It was enough that a smart man could piece together where we were, even if we wore masks and full sleeves the entire time.
"Exactly. Tabby, I'm going to ask you a very simple question, but one that's not simple at all," Mark said. He looked at Patrick, then at me. I thought he was going to ask me about my emotions for him, but he surprised me. "Do you trust him enough to reveal yourself to him?"
I understood Mark's point. If I revealed who I was, it was the first domino in a chain. There'd be no way we could prevent Patrick from learning about all three of us, and who we really were. I was risking more than just myself. I was risking all three of us, and honestly Mark and Sophie stood to lose far more than me. I thought for a long time, about the consequences if we were wrong, and about the man I'd come to know in the past few weeks. Finally, I looked back at Mark and nodded. "Yes. Despite it all, despite what I don't know about him yet, I trust him enough for that."
"Okay," Mark said simply. "I'll talk with Sophie, but if that's how you feel, then we'll go with it unless she objects."
I sat there, stunned. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," Mark replied, giving me a bit of a grin. "What, you didn't think I trust your judgment?"
I shook my head, then shrugged. "Well, after Pressman, and since you guys are the ones with the money and expertise, I guess I've always felt like Alfred to you two being Batman and Batgirl. A sidekick, a minor character. Maybe quirky, and sometimes gives good plot points, but not vital."
Mark shook his head. "You've never been minor to me, Tabby. Not to Sophie either. You're the reason she wanted to come back to the city after Sal Giordano sent men after us. We could have disappeared, you know. Marcus Smiley and Sophie Warbird were clean identities, we could have gone anywhere. We could have disappeared into the South Pacific, lived on Fiji and sipped coconut smoothies for the rest of our lives. But Sophie wanted to come back. She talked a bunch of stuff about the city, about making things right, but she wanted to come back because of you, and how much you mean to her. After we got you out of that nightclub and I got to know you, I understood why."
"You... I didn't know," I said softly. "I mean, I know you guys care about me, but I didn't know."
"We're a team, Tabby. A triangle, three people who are all equal. You're just as important to this team as I am or Sophie is. If you trust Patrick enough, that’s all we need to know.”
"And if I'm wrong? Not trying to put a crimp on things, but I've been wrong about men before," I said. "My recent track record isn’t so good.”
"Then we'll deal with it," Mark said simply. "We've got enough money for the three of us to disappear if we need to, and I've already got a new identity being set up for you as well as Sophie and I. Although with a third person coming along, we might need to be a bit more frugal on our living arrangements."
"Oh, so no coconut drinks on Fiji?"
Mark grinned and shook his head. "Of course there will be. We're just going to need a serving girl to bring me and Sophie our drinks."
"Wise ass."
Chapter 2
Sophie
Mark and Tabby told me about their conversation the next morning as we ate a quick breakfast in the bell tower. I still wasn't ready for Patrick to be left unattended, and I didn't have a bunch of medical electronics up there I could hook him up to anyway. We were lucky his lung hadn't been punctured, just nicked, or else things would have been a lot trickier. Mark had turned him over in the night, and he was resting comfortably so far.
"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."