December 12th, 1994 - Houston TX
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Fleming, at this point, there is no treatment that could shrink the tumor down. He can continue on with the Chemotherapy."
"I will talk to my husband about this as soon as he gets back."
Hearing his mother and his doctor talk about him for the past half-hour out in the hall, he placed down the Batman comic books and rubbed his face; doing his best not to take out the IV in his hands.
A fourteen year old should not be like this. He should be out with his friends, getting ready to pass from the eighth grade and becoming once again a shrimp in High School. Instead, the slightly curly dirt-blonde boy was sitting in a hospital bed with three other beds in the room. Two of the beds were occupied with other children close to his age with other diseases. The bed across from him, though, had a man laying down on it. It was odd. He could not see much of the man except he was reading the same issue of Batman as he was. Carefully rolling the IV monitor closer to him, the boy slowly got out of the bed and slipped on the hospital slippers that were on the floor.
The boy was in his growing ages, a little bit over five foot. He was lean, still had a baby-like face; but the hazel eyes showed more experience than probably any adult in the hospital. Wearing a simple blue and white matching pajama-like top and bottom, the boy reached over to grab his own comic issue and walked quietly along with the IV monitor to the bed across the room.
Watching the man, who flipped to the next page, he stood at the foot of the bed and just watched curiously. After another turn of the page, the boy spoke, "Where are you at?" The man quickly and rudely placed his hand, palm open facing the boy. The boy grunted a bit, but not before long, the man closed the comic and canted his head a bit as he sat up on the bed. The man had a clean look to him, thick eyebrows, equally scruffy but light-brown hair, looking about in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. His eyes only one could describe as baby brown-bear-brown. Or like the color of the brown-bear from that children's book. The man smiled softly to the boy, but kept silent. Smiling brightly, the boy chuckled, "So what is your theory with Gordon and Wayne?"
The man blew a raspberry to the boy, "Wayne is like a father to Gordon. Plus, I don't think Daddy Gordon would be too pleased with the connection. It's bad enough he has to deal with her as Batgirl."
"Well, yes. But it may be possible that she could be chosen to take over Wayne Enterprises."
"Hm. Possible. How many more issues with this arc?"
"Four more. I heard the next arc Kent is going to interview Batman."
"What? And have Wayne risk everything because Kent knows practically everything?"
Chuckling a bit as the IV-occupied hand scratched the back of his head before moving around to sit at the foot of the bed. "It's nice to know there is an adult here that still reads comics and not the newspaper and worry about the other real stories out there."
"What stories do you care about, James?"
The boy gave the man a look of surprise and suspicion before the man pointed over to James' own bed, which had his charts still hanging from the foot of the bed. Chuckling a bit, he then nodded before looking back to the man. "The stories I care about are the ones I see while I sleep. And sometimes when I don't sleep. Just daze off while counting the holes up there." James then pointed to the ceiling that nearly every hospital has, random hole patterns on the panels.
Hearing the words that he did not know how it would come out to be, the man smiled brightly, ''Well, how would you like for me to help you with those stories? And watch over you while you're in here?"
"So you just have me as a patient, Doctor...?"
The man could not help but laugh. "Oh nono. Not a doctor. Just Altin. And yes, you are the only patient I have to take care of."
"Altin. I like the name. Okay, Altin. You can help me with my stories and let it soar." Even for a hospital, the boy seemed hopeful in general; but strangely--for some unknown reason that to this day he could not explain--he felt comfortable with this man. As if he had known him forever. James then looked around for a moment, then leaned in a bit to Altin, "How come none of the adults have caught you in here?"
"A superhero would not be a superhero if all secrets were told, right?" Altin winked to James at that.
"You will be my secret. I will take it to my grave when I die of old age."
"And I will always be right beside you."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Fleming, at this point, there is no treatment that could shrink the tumor down. He can continue on with the Chemotherapy."
"I will talk to my husband about this as soon as he gets back."
Hearing his mother and his doctor talk about him for the past half-hour out in the hall, he placed down the Batman comic books and rubbed his face; doing his best not to take out the IV in his hands.
A fourteen year old should not be like this. He should be out with his friends, getting ready to pass from the eighth grade and becoming once again a shrimp in High School. Instead, the slightly curly dirt-blonde boy was sitting in a hospital bed with three other beds in the room. Two of the beds were occupied with other children close to his age with other diseases. The bed across from him, though, had a man laying down on it. It was odd. He could not see much of the man except he was reading the same issue of Batman as he was. Carefully rolling the IV monitor closer to him, the boy slowly got out of the bed and slipped on the hospital slippers that were on the floor.
The boy was in his growing ages, a little bit over five foot. He was lean, still had a baby-like face; but the hazel eyes showed more experience than probably any adult in the hospital. Wearing a simple blue and white matching pajama-like top and bottom, the boy reached over to grab his own comic issue and walked quietly along with the IV monitor to the bed across the room.
Watching the man, who flipped to the next page, he stood at the foot of the bed and just watched curiously. After another turn of the page, the boy spoke, "Where are you at?" The man quickly and rudely placed his hand, palm open facing the boy. The boy grunted a bit, but not before long, the man closed the comic and canted his head a bit as he sat up on the bed. The man had a clean look to him, thick eyebrows, equally scruffy but light-brown hair, looking about in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. His eyes only one could describe as baby brown-bear-brown. Or like the color of the brown-bear from that children's book. The man smiled softly to the boy, but kept silent. Smiling brightly, the boy chuckled, "So what is your theory with Gordon and Wayne?"
The man blew a raspberry to the boy, "Wayne is like a father to Gordon. Plus, I don't think Daddy Gordon would be too pleased with the connection. It's bad enough he has to deal with her as Batgirl."
"Well, yes. But it may be possible that she could be chosen to take over Wayne Enterprises."
"Hm. Possible. How many more issues with this arc?"
"Four more. I heard the next arc Kent is going to interview Batman."
"What? And have Wayne risk everything because Kent knows practically everything?"
Chuckling a bit as the IV-occupied hand scratched the back of his head before moving around to sit at the foot of the bed. "It's nice to know there is an adult here that still reads comics and not the newspaper and worry about the other real stories out there."
"What stories do you care about, James?"
The boy gave the man a look of surprise and suspicion before the man pointed over to James' own bed, which had his charts still hanging from the foot of the bed. Chuckling a bit, he then nodded before looking back to the man. "The stories I care about are the ones I see while I sleep. And sometimes when I don't sleep. Just daze off while counting the holes up there." James then pointed to the ceiling that nearly every hospital has, random hole patterns on the panels.
Hearing the words that he did not know how it would come out to be, the man smiled brightly, ''Well, how would you like for me to help you with those stories? And watch over you while you're in here?"
"So you just have me as a patient, Doctor...?"
The man could not help but laugh. "Oh nono. Not a doctor. Just Altin. And yes, you are the only patient I have to take care of."
"Altin. I like the name. Okay, Altin. You can help me with my stories and let it soar." Even for a hospital, the boy seemed hopeful in general; but strangely--for some unknown reason that to this day he could not explain--he felt comfortable with this man. As if he had known him forever. James then looked around for a moment, then leaned in a bit to Altin, "How come none of the adults have caught you in here?"
"A superhero would not be a superhero if all secrets were told, right?" Altin winked to James at that.
"You will be my secret. I will take it to my grave when I die of old age."
"And I will always be right beside you."