13 Gone but Unforgotten

"Father! Father! Stay with me!" Roy shouted as loudly as his feeble body allowed him to. "Please. . ."

"Listen to me. Listen to me, Roy!" Dr Moore interrupted his son, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have to do exactly as I say."

"I need to call for help. Let me call an ambulance." Roy tried to stand up, but his father caught his hand.

"No—" Dr Moore coughed.

"I really need to—" The hand wouldn't let him go. "Please, Dad," Roy begged.

"Son, you don't understand. I'm dead. I'm talking to you on borrowed time. I should've been dead by now. Not sure what happened, but this—" he pointed at the dart "—this isn't meant to keep me alive for so long."

Roy's eyes flooded with tears.

"Yo—you don't seem to realize," Dr Moore wheezed, "but you've just killed someone."

"I don't care. I need to help you, Dad. I have to get help." Roy was sobbing now, his breath coming in gasps.

"You need to get rid of the body and never speak of this. Do you understand?" Dr Moore's hand dropped to the ground. His eyes, however, were fixed on his son. Roy managed a nod.

"My desk. . . there's a drawer. On the right. You'll see it. Open it—"

Roy began to push himself up.

"Not now. Listen. Listen to everything I have to say. I—I don't have much more time." Dr Moore's voice was fading. Roy dropped back to his knees, trying to catch every word.

"Inside this drawer, there's a bunch of papers. Throw them out, and on the bottom of the drawer, you'll see a small square. You'll know what I mean. Take it out, and below it, there will be a small, blue button. Press it . . ."

"Dad?"

Roy's eyes widened in horror.

"Dad! DAD! Please! You can't do this to me!"

"Landline. Dial the first. . . number," he whispered. His hand grew limp and dropped to the floor.

"NOOO! DAAAD!"

***

"DAAAD! NO! NO!"

Roy woke up in a cold sweat. Why? Why this again?

He sat up, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. It had been a week. Every night, the same thing.

Roy wanted to fall asleep again, but he knew well enough that he couldn't. He glanced at his alarm clock. 5:36 a.m. Another sleepless night.

Roy padded out to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The mansion was so dark at this hour, so lonely. Especially without him.

He sat in silence, reminiscing, a bittersweet smile spreading over his face. A tear dropped into his cup. If only he had been—

"Roy," came a concerned voice from the hallway, "are you having trouble sleeping, honey?" His mother stepped into the kitchen, wrapped in a bathrobe.

Roy nodded slightly, hiding his tears.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. You found your father's dead body in the middle of the night. There's no reason to pretend it didn't hurt you." She sat down next to him and caressed his hair. "You can let it all out. That's what I'm here for."

"I—I just don't know if I can handle. . ." Roy trailed off, overcome with tears. His mother squeezed him tightly.

"We will," she said, her voice muffled by the hug. She turned her head to wipe her eyes. "Trust me. You, me, Dayla, and Jamie. . . we'll make it. Right now, I need you to go and try to catch some sleep. I know it's hard, but you need to be ready for the funeral."

She kissed him on the forehead and stood up to make a cup of coffee.

"Are you not going to sleep?" Roy asked.

"Work won't wait. I have to finish what your father started. I will take them down," his mother said. "But you don't need to worry. You're still too young for all of this. Please, just go and try to rest. You need it more than anyone."

She hugged him again, fiercely this time. Roy knew he'd needed it.

"Thanks, Mom. I love you," he said, his voice cracking. He picked up his tea and retreated to his room.

"You're worried about him, aren't you, Ceres?" came another voice from the hallway.

"Yes," she swallowed. "It's not just. . . it's not just the grief. I have this feeling he's not telling me everything. Like there's more to it than meets the eye."

Dayla stepped into the kitchen.

"Mother's instinct," Ceres said too lightly, forcing a smile. Dayla placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"I feel so bad," Ceres burst out sobbing. "Have I failed as a mother? He won't talk to me. He just—"

"Shh, shh. It's okay," Dayla crooned.

Ceres hid her face in her hands.

"Of course not. You're doing all you can. He doesn't want to talk to anyone right now. It's not your fault. Just give him some time. There's definitely something that he's keeping from us, but we won't know unless he decides to tell us."

"I know," Ceres wiped her tears. "It's just. . . it's just that I feel like I've failed him. And now he's gone. Forever."

Dayla hugged Ceres tightly.

"I miss him so much."

"I miss him, too."

"Oh, Dayla. . . thank you. I don't know what we would do without you. I sometimes feel like you're more of a mother for the kids than—"

"Don't you dare say that!" Dayla cut her off. "You are the best mother they could possibly have, and you're doing a wonderful job."

"I—I just. . ."

"You said it yourself. We will handle this. And we will come out of this stronger than ever. We will make him proud."

***

Roy sat silently in his room, watching the city outside. He had no tears left to shed after the funeral.

'What would Nathan do?' Roy wondered to himself. He wanted to be strong, to be like Nathan. But he just couldn't.

A sudden ringing of his phone brought him back to reality. He was getting tired of it. All of them, calling him with empty words. Like he cared.

Unknown caller? What was that supposed to mean? After everything that had happened, Roy was a little hesitant, but he decided to pick up anyway.

"Who's this?��� he snarled.

"Hi, Roy. It's me, Nathan," a gentle voice replied.

"Na- Nathan. Yeah, sure. How di—I mean, what the hell do you want?"

"I hope you don't mind. I asked Stacy to give me your number."

"That bitch! I'll deal with her later. What do you want, Umbris?"

"No need to be so aggressive. I guess you're fed up with empty condolences," Nathan said. "I would be too, honestly."

"Why are you calling me then?" Roy asked, a little calmer than before.

"Roy, I need to discuss something rather important with you. Are you alone?"

"Yes. . . yes, I am. What do you need?" Roy asked.

"You called someone shortly after your father was murdered," Nathan began.

"How—how did you know that? What do you—"

"That was me," Nathan interrupted.

"What was you?" Roy asked, honestly perplexed.

Nathan waited for it to sink in.

"No. No! It can't be!"

There was a muffled thump from Roy's end of the line.

"I should've told you to sit down, I guess," Nathan muttered. "Yes, it was me you were talking to. We spoke, and then I helped you get rid of that body."

It took some time for Roy to collect himself.

"But how? Why did my father have a landline connected to you? Who are you?"

"I am Batman," Nathan said in a nasal voice.

"What?"

"Not the best time to crack a joke. Sorry. I guess I've got some explaining to do. This might take a while."