A/N: Hello and welcome to my new fanfic! I hope you'll enjoy it. I have plans for this to be a multi-chapter, lengthy fic, so buckle your seatbelts for a long ride. An update schedule will be announced following the response to this chapter. Many thanks and praise to pearlprimrose for being an outstanding beta reader for me. If you do find some error within the work, please be kind enough to leave a comment. Reviews, constructive criticism, etc are always appreciated. This is cross-posted on AO3, too!
Chapter One - Unlikely Friends
"Can I tempt you to a glass of lemonade, Miss Gale?"
A little girl with oversized glasses drooping down her nose looked up at Alfred, the Wayne's family butler. She had a book perched on the edge of her knees where she sat on the stone steps leading down to the grounds of the grand estate. Her gaze was highlighted in a muddy brown color that often lost their dreamy charm behind the thick frames of her correction lenses. A spatter of freckles danced over her cheeks, disappearing into the wildness of her loose dark brown hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back. She was neatly dressed for such imp-like features, fashioning a fitted sweater and sleek black stockings under a pleated skirt. Her shoes were slightly horrible: chunky Mary Jane shoes that made a disturbing clunk on the nice tiled floors of Wayne Manor.
She absolutely hated to be dragged to the play dates her father and Mr. Wayne set up for the children. The two men worked together in Wayne Tower and had been friends long before. Her father, Fredrick Thompson, was a chief physician at the hospital in Gotham and Dean to its medical university. They often would hold discussions at Mr. Wayne's house over the developments and various cases at the hospital while the children entertained themselves outside in the garden.
The one saving grace in all this for Gale was Rachel Dawes. She was the daughter of one of the Manor's employees and was invited to these dreadful days as well. Luckily, she kept young Bruce Wayne distracted enough not to tell on the weird girl who refused to play in favor of reading on her own in the corner. It bewildered the young master to no end that the girl managed to find a corner outside!
"No, thank you, Alfred. Father says I should be careful of my sugar intake. I don't exercise enough to manage the energy levels that sugar compensates for..." She was already looking back down to her book with a shadow of a frown placed over her lips.
The way in which she spoke was unlike any other girl her age. She was reminded of this even in the private school for advanced children which her father had enrolled her in soon after public school proved to be ill-suited for her. Gale loved her father, and they forged a strong bond since the passing of her mother before she could really remember her. But sometimes she was frustrated by his own lack of understanding when it came to his only child. He meticulously picked the school for its focus in science and medical technology in the hopes that one day Gale would follow his footsteps into the hospital as a doctor of some degree. While there was no arguing the fact she was more than capable of such a future, it simply was not where her interests lied.
Her friends were characters in the books she cherished so much. While others in the school prided themselves on memorizing medical encyclopedias, Gale made an outcast of herself by sticking to great works of literature. Both classic and contemperary. When she was younger, she used to stumble over the vocabulary provided by her independent education with a rolling lisp. But now, by age ten, she was able to articulate herself as well as any scholar.
Alfred found it incredible and delighted in what the young lady might say if she could be bothered out of her tightly worn shell long enough to utter a word.
"I see," Alfred mused. "Well, I certainly won't tell if you don't."
Gale shot her head up at the butler who in turn winked down at her as though the two now shared a secret. This made her smile somewhat then nod her head discreetly in agreement.
Alfred smiled down to her, nodding like they were shaking hands on it, and turned to fetch the refreshment.
Biting her lip and the brief excitement added to her day, Gale gripped the book she was reading against her chest and jiggled her small legs in anticipation.
If Bruce were only a few seconds earlier, he might have caught the girl's slip into normality.
"Gale, aren't you coming? Rachel and I talked about playing Hide and Seek. You can be the seeker." He suggested as much because the thought had occurred to him that he and Rachel may never find her if she were allowed to be the one to hide.
"Uhh," Gale floundered. Her book still pressed to her chest, her fingers flexed nervously over the binding. "I just reached the best part." The excuse was weak but the only one she could come up with on the spot.
Bruce sighed in disappointment. He craned his neck to read the title engraved along the spine of her book. "The Three Musketeers. But you haven't finished your other book yet, have you?" he noticed.
Gale had gotten a volume of Sherlock Holmes mysteries the last time she was here, and since she preferred sitting quietly to playing games with the Wayne heir, Bruce agreed to let her read some of the stories aloud. It was only the two of them on that day, so he had little choice in the matter unless he, too, chose to do something on his own.
After a few of the short stories, he found he didn't mind so much anymore. Some parts were exciting, and he wondered to himself what would happen next. And other parts made them laugh together. Then Bruce would start asking Gale what was going to happen next. It wasn't until Alfred found them and told Gale it was time for her to go home with her father that the children put the book down.
"I didn't want to keep reading without you," she told the boy. "We had to stop right in the middle of it."
He smiled at that. "So you brought another book over to read?"
Gale traced the decorative lines of the book cover absently without reply.
Instead of ridiculing her, though, Bruce tried a different approach. "My parents and I are going to the opera in a few weeks. Will your father take you?"
Gale twisted her face into discomfort at the suggestion. "I don't have to go to the opera. I read about it."
The youngest Wayne shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself."
They stared at each other for a moment in a suspended impasse before it was broken by Rachel's cheerful scream.
"Bruce! Bruce! Look what I've found!"
He turned to look over his shoulder then back at Gale. She met his glance with uncertainty. After a beat, she opened her mouth to say something, but he was already running back down the steps to investigate Rachel's discovery.
Mouth still gaping in mid-attempt, Gale sat dejected, wondering what she had planned to say in the first place. The book cradled in her hands fell back to the platform of her knees, revealing a sea of coveted narration to a world which made sense to the isolated girl. "You always know what to say," she whispered down to the pages. Running her finger along the edges, she caresses the black and white surface.
Gale closed the book which was giving her a soothing sense of calm only moments ago. Now, she felt like even more of an oddball if she continued to sit staring into its affective escape. She tucked the volume into her bag and decided to head inside. Maybe her father would have finished his discussion with Mr. Wayne so that they could leave. She met Alfred halfway up the stairs, a tall glass of lemonade balanced atop a tray he was holding.
"Ah, perfect timing, Miss Gale. I have here the best liquid livation you're ever likely to try in your entire life!" the butler embellished. It probably had more to do with cheering her up than anything else, Gale assumed. A sneaky smile tugged at her lips nonetheless.
"I hesitate to boast," he went on. "I preserve my humility when it comes to fresh lemons, mind you. Enjoy."
Lowering the tray to her level, he invited her to take the drink. Not wanting to appear rude after agreeing to the lemonade, Gale clasped the moist glass in her hand and sipped at the icy beverage.
"It's very good, Alfred. Thank you for bringing it to me."
"No problem in the least, Miss Gale."
Gale drank a few more gulps partly for good measure and because the lemonade actually was quite tasty then returned the mostly empty glass back to him. "You wouldn't mind if I helped you inside, would you?" she asked hopefully after a minute. Her eyes searched his face, silently pleading to accept her vaguely desperate offer.
He looked past the girl to the empty grounds behind her, not seeming to find what ever it was he momentarily searched for. The confusion and hesitation that hung about his features faded into a neutral expression. "I don't see why not. I think I'll make a small lunch for later. You can cut the crusts," he concluded with a raise of his brow.
Gale couldn't help but to recall the offer Bruce had made that reflected a similar suggestion of her being the Seeker. Though, she quickly shook away the worry attached to it. Pasting on a closed mouth smile, she nodded along to the older man's suggestion and stepped up to follow him.
They only made it a few steps, however, when Rachel's scream reprised itself through the open air. This time, it was tinged with distress. The doors to the back of the house opened behind Gale and Alfred after they turned their attention to the other girl. Mr. Wayne and Gale's father emerged just in time to hear Rachel explain the cause of her upset.
"He fell! He fell! There's a hole! You have to help him!"
She was running ever toward them, tears coating her lovely cheeks as she pleaded to help. Mr. Wayne was the first to shoot past Alfred and Gale. The little girl moved to follow the man, but Alfred held her back with a hand to her shoulder. "Let the master see to it, miss." He called for Rachel then. Ushering both girls towards the house, Alfred waited with a drawn brow for the return of the Waynes.
Gale stared at the now silent Rachel at a loss for what she could do to comfort the girl.
Fortunately, her father took her by the hand and guided her away before it became too apparent she was floundering in the tense situation.
"Gale, do you know what this is about?" Mr. Thompson asked his daughter.
She'd tucked her book against her side, hoping he wouldn't notice it. But the question itself put her in a tight spot. If she admitted she didn't know what happened, then she must not have been with the other children. And if she wasn't with Bruce and Rachel, well...
"I-I don't-"
"Here they come," Alfred said. "He's hurt."
Everyone watched Mr. Wayne carrying his son up the stone steps. As he passed Rachel, only Gale noticed him quickly slip something to her. What it was, she couldn't be sure as her sight was obscured by her father.
"How is he? Thomas, will you need any help with him?" he spoke louder to the other man, steering Gale along with him when he stepped closer to his friend.
"He'll be all right, I think. I can manage."
"Bruce..." Gale murmured, hardly loud enough for anyone to hear.
Still, the boy glanced in her direction. His expression was decidedly passive except for the shielded grimace of pain he must be experiencing from his injury. Then he blinked at her, curling the fingers of his good hand in a slight wave which was the only acknowledgement he gave back to her.
"I'll see you on Monday then. Call straight away if anything changes. Come along, Gale. We'll see ourselves out, Alfred."
Rachel's mother appeared around the corner as soon as the group entered the house. She took one look around and hurried to her daughter to find out what she clearly missed. Offering Rachel a brief goodbye and Alfred a quiet thank you, Gale squeezed her father's hand, and the two Thompsons left Wayne Manor.
The very next day, Gale was standing outside the doorway of Bruce's room, hesitant to enter. In her hands was the thick volume of the Sherlock Holmes collection which she held to her chest like a shield. Alfred stood behind her holding a tray of refreshments.
"A few snacks won't go amiss for such a visit. The young master is likely famished by now," he told her when she first arrived and lingered with him in the kitchens.
Mr. Wayne had left for work earlier in the morning, giving strict instructions that Bruce remain in bed for part of the day to rest his arm. Having informed Gale of this when she entered the Manor, Alfred escorted her inside anyway with the notion it would do Bruce good to have a guest least the young Wayne try to sneak out of bed.
The butler gave a low cough behind the girl, making her jump from her reverie.
"He won't bite, Miss Gale. Anyway, that's why I have these," he lifted the tray a fraction then tilted his head forward to encourage her.
With a small inhale of shallow breath, Gale quickly stepped inside and out of the way so that Alfred could put the tray down. Bruce was occupied with a model toy, a WWII fighter airplane, and didn't notice her enter with Alfred. Once he looked up to see her, his eyes fell to the tell-tale book in her hands. A cautious smile ticked at the corner of his lips.
Alfred settled the tray of drink and snacks on the nightstand then excused himself.
She could have asked how he was feeling. She could have asked if he would like her to sort through the M&M's to find his favorite colors. She could even have sat down and begun reading at the place they left off in the story. But Gale was hopeless. When she opened her mouth, the worst possible thing she could have said tumbled out.
"You're not supposed to play with those, you know."
Well, maybe not the worst thing, but still, it was his toy in his room while he was stuck in bed with a broken arm.
Bruce looked from her to the airplane in his hand. "Not all of us are happy enough to sit back and observe when it's better to just have fun."
Gale dropped her eyes to the book she was holding. After a moment, she answered with, "Doctor Watson observes and still has fun."
His smile hitched a bit, unable to argue with that. He invited her to sit down, and without further ado, she cracked open the book and started to read.
Thanks for reading!