SquidgeWorld Archive

Days like These - On Patrol
by Sam Emme

The skyline at night from the Rash Building with its steel girders, thick cement base and the various colorful large stain mottled windows intermixed with concrete quoins is quite a view to see most of Gotham from and yet from here even with its deficiencies in not seeing the truly dark corners of its encircling land, there is no one approaching this landmark for the treasure contained within.

Looking thru the binoculars from the adjacent building then switching to a new lens to survey behind the heavy glass. A heavy set man in the prerequisite uniform and flashlight of security makes his rounds inside and around the floor that holds the exquisite and quite large "Prim Sapphire" along with smaller collections of jewelry on display until next week then it moves to another new city, unknown to most, to keep the greedy from hoping and trying.

Batman knows better.

However it seems the unusual heat and moisture for the eventide is keeping the criminal element away. Decision made he is checking the surrounding area once more and refolding the lens back into the belt. Pressing a button on said belt to call Alfred to transmit his moving on to new location.

"Sir."

"Alfred, I moving to the South..."

"Understood."

Two beeps interrupt. A small voice whispered, "Daddy."

Before the cable released, he stopped."Dick, why are you awake?"

"You promised me a story."

Finishing the release and travel to the next building heading to his new destination, "I'm working tonight. I'll tell you a story in the morning."

"You said 'When Papa's away you would read me story to sleep. ' I can't sleep Daddy."

Touching down on a new roof, "What about Alfred?"

"Alfred pick old boring stuff to read." a small sigh "You promised."

Surveying the surroundings and nothing to see, " I did, didn't I?" He could even hear the smile on he kid's face.

"Yes Daddy."

Repelling down to the street and calling the Batmobile from his belt, "Give me a minute." In the dark alleyway he glides in, looking at the car's monitors that is checking on the background cameras which are setup across the city. Switching to another console, numbers and text are listed in alphabetical order. Getting comfortable and Batman relinquishes a little to Bruce Wayne, father of a boy shouldn't be awake at this hour, nevertheless...

"What do you want me to read you?"

Dick is thinking hard and loudly. Bruce can see him in his head as tapping on his nose and walking on the bed with the same mannerisms like the other major influence in his young world. Dick huffs,"Any story Papa doesn't read. He reads baby books."

With a little smile, "And you're not a baby."

Implying a 'You should know better ' into a long sounding word."Yeah."

"All right. Get under the covers and lie down and I will tell you a short story."

A bit of rustling and adjusting, "I'm ready Daddy."

"Press the red button on the phone then hang up the phone."

Click. "Can you hear me?"

"Yep. Story please."

Inside the car, looking at the selection on the console. Bruce begins.

"THERE lived once a great queen, in whose garden were found at all seasons the most splendid flowers, and from every land in the world. She specially loved roses, and therefore she possessed the most beautiful varieties of this flower, from the wild hedge-rose, with its apple-scented leaves, to the splendid Provence rose. They grew near the shelter of the walls, wound themselves round columns and window-frames, crept along passages and over the ceilings of the halls. They were of every fragrance and color.

But care and sorrow dwelt within these halls; the queen lay upon a sick bed, and the doctors declared that she must die. "There is still one thing that could save her," said one of the wisest among them. "Bring her the loveliest rose in the world; one which exhibits the purest and brightest love, and if it is brought to her before her eyes close, she will not die."

Then from all parts came those who brought roses that bloomed in every garden, but they were not the right sort. The flower must be one from the garden of love; but which of the roses there showed forth the highest and purest love? The poets sang of this rose, the loveliest in the world, and each named one which he considered worthy of that title; and intelligence of what was required was sent far and wide to every heart that beat with love; to every class, age, and condition.

"No one has yet named the flower," said the wise man. "No one has pointed out the spot where it blooms in all its splendor. It is not a rose from the coffin of Romeo and Juliet, or from the grave of Walburg, though these roses will live in everlasting song. It is not one of the roses which sprouted forth from the blood-stained fame of Winkelreid. The blood which flows from the breast of a hero who dies for his country is sacred, and his memory is sweet, and no rose can be redder than the blood which flows from his veins. Neither is it the magic flower of Science, to obtain which wondrous flower a man devotes many an hour of his fresh young life in sleepless nights, in a lonely chamber."

"I know where it blooms," said a happy mother, who came with her lovely child to the bedside of the queen. "I know where the loveliest rose in the world is. It is seen on the blooming cheeks of my sweet child, when it expresses the pure and holy love of infancy; when refreshed by sleep it opens its eyes, and smiles upon me with childlike affection."

"This is a lovely rose," said the wise man; "but there is one still more lovely."

"Yes, one far more lovely," said one of the women. "I have seen it, and a loftier and purer rose does not bloom. But it was white, like the leaves of a blush-rose. I saw it on the cheeks of the queen. She had taken off her golden crown, and through the long, dreary night, she carried her sick child in her arms. She wept over it, kissed it, and prayed for it as only a mother can pray in that hour of her anguish."

"Holy and wonderful in its might is the white rose of grief, but it is not the one we seek."

"No; the loveliest rose in the world I saw at the Lord's table," said the good old bishop. "I saw it shine as if an angel's face had appeared. A young maiden knelt at the altar, and renewed the vows made at her baptism; and there were white roses and red roses on the blushing cheeks of that young girl. She looked up to heaven with all the purity and love of her young spirit, in all the expression of the highest and purest love."

"May she be blessed!" said the wise man: "but no one has yet named the loveliest rose in the world."

Then there came into the room a child- the queen's little son. Tears stood in his eyes, and glistened on his cheeks; he carried a great book and the binding was of velvet, with silver clasps. "Mother," cried the little boy; "only hear what I have read." And the child seated himself by the bedside, and read from the book of Him who suffered death on the cross to save all men, even who are yet unborn. He read, "Greater love hath no man than this," and as he read a roseate hue spread over the cheeks of the queen, and her eyes became so enlightened and clear, that she saw from the leaves of the book a lovely rose spring forth, a type of Him who shed His blood on the cross.

"I see it," she said. "He who beholds this, the loveliest rose on earth, shall never die."

Bruce heard a soft snoring, "Alfred is he asleep?"

"Yes, Master Bruce." Tucking him under the comforter " I've never heard of the particular story before, may I inquire?"

"It's called, "The Loveliest Rose In The World" by Hans Christian Andersen and I don't know why I chose it."

"A bit..."

"Much. Religious."

"I was thinking spiritual even romantic. It would be a lovely story to repeat to Master Clark..." Alfred hearing the sigh and quietness of his charge so he changed the subject, "Will you be coming home early?"

Looking at the cameras again and the one left near the Rash Building. "Yes, I'm retiring for the night."

"Then I'll shall see you soon." The light went out.

Judging to drive to the south side before heading home, two beeps again sound in the car.

"Yes."

"Hey."

Switching on console windows to visual with the Watchtower, "You're back."

"John, Diana and I left what John calls Planet PX459 with a bunch of them all agreeing not to kill each other and frankly at this moment I don't care." He release a long breath before a happy smile peered out. "How's our little boy?"

"Not a baby." before the confusion on Clark's face appeared, "I'll explain later."

Clark replied, "We both look tired and tomorrow is the weekend, barring any events, let's sleep a lot then all four of us picnic outside in the manor gardens."

Nodding in the affirmative, Bruce forgets the south side and drives home, "How fast can you get here?"

"About ten minutes and before the eyebrow lift which is too late from what I can see under the mask I'm just tired. Maybe I'll let John drop me off."

"All right." Before signing off Bruce reply, "You know the gardens is a good idea and in the greenhouse there is a new flower that needs a moniker.

"Wow, a new flower," jokingly Clark suggested, "Maybe it could named after me."

A smirk lay behind the mask, "Great minds think alike."

"Really, can't wait to see it. Is it beautiful?"

"Well to me it is the loveliest."