"You had guts, I'll give you that," Mark said, popping the top on his water and taking a deep pull, "but guts runs out very quickly. You damn near got yourself killed last time. And you almost got me killed in the process."
"I'm sorry about that," I said, humbled. "When you called me an amateur before, I thought you were just being an asshole. I didn't realize how right you were."
"Which is why I'm shocked at what I'm going to say," Mark replied, still facing away from me. As he talked he gestured with his free hand for emphasis, looking out the windows at times. "Out there, I need a partner. Someone I can depend on, someone I can work with. I'm limited in what I can do, mostly to small work, surveillance and information gathering, only doing direct action when I have to. The streets need more. I need a partner. But it has to be a partner I can trust, someone I know is going to have my back and I know can get the job done. If I can't have that, I'm better off working on my own. Before this, I had Sophie when I took down the Confederation and Lynch. Your guess earlier was right, she was the person who took down Petrokias. But she's pregnant, which means for at least a year, maybe a year and a half, maybe even forever, she's off the streets. If she comes back, it’ll be limited duty only because I will not have my daughter grow up with both her mother and father killed in this fool's crusade. So, despite what you've shown me, despite my better judgment, I'm going to extend you the offer. Before you answer, it’s going to be a lot of work before you step foot out there with me. Do you want to train, become my partner?"
"You mean your sidekick? The Robin to your Batman?" I asked. "And what about my day job?"
“That’s a big part of why I’m even considering this. It’ll be just as important as anything we do at night," Mark replied. "Just like what Tabby does with the money I make is just as important, if not more important, than every criminal I take out with my hands or my guns. And no, I'm not looking for a sidekick, although you'd start in a similar role. If you know your comics, you know what happened to the first Robin. He grew up, became Nightwing, and for a while, he was Batman himself."
I considered his offer. "What do I need to do?"
Mark chuckled. "First, you have to recover from that wound. Then you're going to have to survive something even more painful."
"What?" I asked, a bit worried. "Martial arts training with you? Knives? Guns?"
Mark finally turned to me and shook his head, a sardonic grin on his features. "You're going to have to survive my wife."
Chapter 3
Patrick
That night I slept fitfully in the entertainment room. I would’ve loved to have had Tabby with me, but I’d been honest when I told Sophie that having her with me would have been too difficult for me. Despite the nearly constant pain I was in, and the stiffness in my back, having her nearby was so distracting I barely felt it. I knew that if she was in the same room as me dressed for bed, I would never have gotten any sleep, not without sex. And sex was not what my body could tolerate.
As I tossed and turned, the pain in my back increased. Sophie had checked my sutures after dinner, declaring that they were looking good. She even showed me a photo taken with her cell phone, and I couldn't really tell. I mean, how good is crusty tied up skin supposed to look like, anyway? It was still stained with the topical antiseptic she’d used for the surgery even, I looked like a golden carrot surrounded by large purplish black rings of bruising or something. The thing hurt.
Sighing, I sat up. Slowly rolling to the side, I made my way over to the rack of DVDs on the side, surprised that Mark hadn't had a Blu-Ray put in. Then again, maybe he had and I just hadn't seen them.
As I was flipping through, I heard a click behind me as the door to the room opened. Turning my head, I saw Tabby, thankfully wearing a robe on top of her silk pajamas. Even in the plain robe, she tugged at my heart strings. "Hi."
"Hi," she replied, coming in and closing the door. "I heard you tossing and turning, and I wanted to see what was up."
"How'd you hear?" I asked her, slightly confused. "I thought this room was soundproofed."
"It is, except for the baby monitor we put in here," she replied. She pointed to the bottom shelf of the cabinet next to the screen, and I saw the red glowing light of the monitor. "Sophie wanted us to split up sleep shifts again tonight, just in case you needed help."
"I see," I replied. I mean, it was on one hand somewhat insulting to be subject to a baby monitor of all things. On the other hand, it did show that they cared a lot about my health, which was better than I could say for the last doctor I'd seen. "I just couldn't sleep. I was thinking of maybe trying to watch a movie. Any favorites?"
“I’m sure I can find something.”