My mom always told me as a kid that no matter who, everyone experiences some form of tragedy in their life. Tragedies come in all forms. The death of a loved one, a violent robbery, or the loss of a limb. And the thing is with tragedies, is that they always happen unexpectedly. Unannounced. Most of them anyways.
Most tragedies happen at the drop of a hat, when no one expects them to. A family member getting ill, or a drunk driver crashing into you on your casual Friday night. Hell, flunking out of school counts.
The point is, everyone has a tragedy for their lives. My mom's was the divorce she witnessed between her parents, which for five long years, led them to being unable to speak to one another, let alone be in the same room together. My dad's was his five month long leave of absence due to a bullet wound to the knee from being in the field when he was in the FBI.
And mine? Mine included the both of my parents. We were kidnapped by a crime lord, Francis Burton; one that my dad went after for work. He was constantly on a serial race to rape and loot from brothels across the darker parts of Gotham. It was one of the ways he'd gotten so rich. Of course, the analysis unit my dad worked for was able to start pinning down how to finally lock him up. They were close to catching him; nearly had him the month before the kidnapping. There was a huge shootout, one that resulted in my dad shooting one of Burton's relatives. The death shook him hard. So he did what he thought was reasonable. Which of course was our kidnapping. I was twelve.
It was December. A few days after Christmas. A glass jar of Christmas and chocolate chip cookies and glasses of fresh milk sat atop the tiled kitchen counter. A kettle sat atop the stove, whistling as my mom's tea finished brewing. Mom was washing the dishes; dad was in the front yard shoveling snow from the driveway.
I was sitting at the kitchen table, pen in hand as I worked on my winter break homework when they burst through the kitchen door. I screamed and fled to my mother's side. Before I knew it, she had a taser in her hand and stabbed it at two oncoming thugs, who fell to the ground; spastically twitching from the electronic device.
She grabbed for my hand and darted for the back door. We flew down the deck steps and into the snow-covered grass, heading for the wooden gate that led to our car in the front yard. Dad was there, fighting a few thugs spilling out from a dark van. My mom set me down and darted over, tasing the men faster than I could blink.
Suddenly, they had a gun. My parents froze. I gasped, my eyes wide.
"On your knees!" My father wore a look of defiance, staring straight into the speaking thug's eyes. "Now! Get on the ground, or I put a bullet in one of your girls!"
My father slowly sank to his knees. Lips quivering, I followed suit, bringing my knees close together and dropping my chin to my chest. A man walked up to us and gripped me roughly by the wrists, tying them together with a thin, nylon wire that dug into my skin. He did the same with my mother, then my father, who growled threateningly at the thug.
"Hello Andrew." I looked up, watching as the thugs parted for a tall, blonde man. He wore a well fitted, dark gray suit; a well pressed turquoise dress shirt and gray tie sitting beneath his jacket. He grinned, flashing a gold tooth as he fingered the matching watch on his wrist. "Nice to finally make your acquaintance off the phone."
It was evident that he had money. And guns apparently, as suddenly every thug pulled out their own personal firepower. Francis pulled out his own gun; a shiny black pistol.
"What do you want, Burton?" my father demanded, pulling my mom close to him. I leaned over, pressing my head to my her side.
"For you," Burton answered, waving the gun around carelessly. "to get in the van."
"Will my family be unharmed if we do?" My father's voice wavered. He was petrified.
"Depends on how fast you get in the damn van, Moore." My father sighed, closing his eyes in exasperation. "Tick tock, Andrew."
My father opened his eyes, looking to us painfully. "Let's get in the van. Please." His eyes pleaded with us, and tears started to leak from her eyes.
We piled into the van, and Burton slammed the doors roughly. Feeling the engine start and the vehicle move, causing me to inch closer to my mother, my head in her lap. My mother kissed my forehead softly.
"Brooklyn, honey...I want you to know that I love you, so, so very much."
Tears pricked at my eyes. I knew what she was thinking. "No...no Mom it's going to be okay. Everything's gonna be okay right, Dad? Jim will come find us right?"
My dad smiled sadly at me. "Of course sweetheart. Your mom and I just don't want you to be scared. Okay?" he put his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them gently. "Can you be brave for me? I need you to be brave, to not show them fear, okay?"
I nodded, leaning my cheek against his warm hand.
"Okay Dad. I love you." I looked to my mom. "I love you both so much." My mother sniffled.
The car jolted to a halt and voices shouted from all outside the van. My mom gripped my arm tightly just as the doors flew open. One of the thugs thrusted their gun at us, screaming so loud that I winced. Hands all over me, suddenly, and throwing me out of the truck and into the street, my skin scraping roughly against the pavement, my knees wet from the slush-like snow.
They pulled us further into the abandoned street, dark vans and SUVs surrounding everything within a thousand feet of us. My mother started openly sobbing at this point, her tears making little imprints in the pure white blanket.
"Gordon will track you down." my father growled. "And so will he. You know he'll come."
"Shut up!" Burton screamed. He swung his arm outwards, catching my dad in the nose and sending him sprawling to the ground from the impact.
"Andrew!" "Daddy!" My mother's and my voices chorused together; desperate and scared sounding.
"You really thought you could catch me? You and your stupid Fed buddies?" He lashed out more, then; his kicks jabbing into my father's stomach with sickening thud sounds. "Nobody, and I mean nobody takes in Francis Burton. You hear me!?" he shouted, and I heard the gun click menacingly.
I felt the hot, salty tears run down my cheeks, burning my skin from the freezing cold winds of Gotham. This wasn't brave. I knew it wasn't. But I couldn't help it. Fear had completely taken over.
The sudden sharp noise of police sirens filled the air. My mother gasped and the other thugs started panicking. I watched in mixed relief as patrol cars sped into my vision, keeping a healthy distance from the scene, but not without being close enough to intervene if at all necessary.
Burton gripped my father by the collar, screaming wildly. "How!?"
My father grinned. "Homing device. GCPD's here, and so will he."
He threw my father to the ground, face red with anger. More cops swerved around the corner. Gordon hopped out, followed by dozens of other GCPD men.
"Let go of FBI Special Agent Moore and his family and we'll let you off easy." Gordon shouted over the wind. "This can be settled easy. Just let. Them. Go." Burton just glared at Gordon.
"And what makes you think I'd want to do that?" Burton yelled his question back to Gordon, who lifted the megaphone back up to his lips.
"Think of it this way, Burton; if you let the Moores go now, we can talk about your sentencing. Maybe get it reduced to something less dire. No one has to get hurt. Just let Andrew and the girls go."
I looked to my dad, whose nose spewed blood, his blue eyes full of tears. My mother's own brown eyes mirrored his, and she smiled sadly at me before turning back to my father, never breaking eye contact with him. Burton raised the gun. My dad's eyes widened. My mother's too. I stopped breathing.
"To hell with that." he muttered.
My dad turned his head, saying his final words just as the unthinkable happened.
"I love you."
Burton pulled the trigger.
My mother's scream became one with the gun. My father crumpled, and I stared at the now lifeless blue irises I'd known my whole life. Eyes that sparkled whenever he came home; eyes that held a passion for saving people; eyes that always seemed to be laughing. They didn't how that anymore. Not when he was lying in the snow, blood pooling around him to confirm my fear.
My father was dead.
No.
All hell broke loose. GCPD and the thugs began to fire their weapons. My mother ducked, screaming, and started to inch her way over to a van for cover. Burton's thugs started dropping left and right, and I started to wiggle my way over to my mother, pushing myself through the snow to get under cover.
Just before I reached the dark vehicle, my mother screamed. I watched in horror as Burton lifted her to him, pressing the barrel of his gun to her temple before pulling the trigger. Within moments, she too crumpled to the snow, a bullet in her brain.
Hellish noises ripped themselves from my throat, pulling my vocal cords raw. Like with my father, I watched the warm light of life leave my mother's hazel eyes, her lips open in a halted cry for help. I pushed myself into the van, feeling numb, hearing and seeing nothing but a red haze in front of me. The gunfire was still present; barrelling in and out of my hearing every so often.
I watched with blurred vision as someone came to stand in front of me, a cruel grin curling on his lips. Burton. I watched numbly as he pointed his gun straight at me. The tears stopped coming, and I found myself staring straight into his eyes. Go ahead. I thought silently. Shoot.
His voice was slick with venom as he spoke. "Your father was a fool to think he could stop me. But I suppose I don't have to worry about him anymore, do I, sweetheart?" I felt bile rise to the back of my throat, the taste of copper coating my tongue from the sick feeling. "Say hi to your mom and pops for me, okay?" The gun clicked. I closed my eyes, waiting for the echoing sound that would come from the black weapon.
The echo never came. He never pulled the trigger.
Whirring through the air, a black object came out of nowhere, smacking the gun from Burton's hand with a loud ping! sound. I opened my eyes just as Burton yelled in shock. He looked angry, and suddenly lunged for me, but someone tackled him before he could touch me. A blur of black and gray rolled around with Burton in the snow, finally stopping and hauling him up.
I watched as he stood, Burton's throat lodged firmly in his hand. The look in Burton's eyes was one I'd never forget.
Raw fear.
"Batman!" he screeched, brown eyes wide before turning into a malicious and half-assed glare. "Get your pointy nose out of my business!"
"You made you business my concern the second you kidnapped Agent Moore." Batman growled, slamming the man to the ground, and delivering a swift kick to his shoulder. The crime lord howled in pain, reaching a hand over to cup his shoulder, but Batman stepped on his hand, immobilizing him. I heard a snap! and cringed as Burton howled in pain, clutching at his now broken fingers. "How many more bones can I break in your body?"
Burton howled some more, suddenly begging for mercy in octaves I didn't think the man could get to.
"Please, I'll do anything! Just stop! Please, stop!" Burton himself was crying now. His tears infuriated me.
"You should've thought of that before you ripped a family apart in a way you can't even imagine happening to a child." I watched, half mortified, half satisfied, as the Bats reached down to dislocate Burton's knee before delivering a hard blow to his head, leaving him to grovel in pain.
"Brooklyn!" I heard my voice and turned my head, suddenly becoming more aware of my surroundings. I hadn't noticed the receding gunfire. I was too much in shock. Batman still stood over Burton, as if watching him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of color deliver a swift kick to one of the armed gunmen, sending him to the ground with a thud! The blur stood still finally and turned to face Batman and I. It was the boy wonder. Robin.
"Brooklyn!" That sounded like Jim. I looked toward where the GCPD had been earlier in their defense line. Several officers rushed towards me, Jim at the head. Managing to stand on shaky legs, I took a step forward, and fell, but not without Batman suddenly at my side, his hand on my arm. Jim ran harder than ever, sliding on his knees in front of me and speaking quickly to me, trying to get a response.
"Brooke? Brooke! Brooklyn, honey, c'mon, look at me, talk to me." Jim's voice rang out in my ears. I felt the ropes keeping my hands together loosen, then drop into the dirty snow. Raw red lines were wired around my wrists, throbbing from the sudden relief. Jim helped me to my feet, and more tears filled my eyes as I saw my parents' bodies lying in the snow, their blood making the white snow look like a heart attack in real life. I felt his jacket meld over my shoulders, the zipper coming up to the top.
"Brooke, I need you to say something to me, please. I know you're in shock, but please, honey, talk to us."
It felt like my throat was laden with cement. Felt like I couldn't speak, only sob if I permitted myself to. I pointed weakly to my parents. "They're...they're..."
"I know honey. I know." Jim pulled me in, arms wrapping around me in an attempt to comfort me. I cried, my whines clearer than bell through Jim's chest. My own chest was pounding, coating every inch of my body with an intense ache that I could only associate with heartbreak.
"Is she harmed?" a dark voice asked. I suddenly turned in Jim's arms, seeing one of the many men, but the most important one, who helped save my life.
"You saved me." I said shakily, wiping some tears from my face. "Thank you."
Batman nodded, crouching down to me. "Are you alright?"
I looked down a moment, avoiding his intense gaze. "I'm about as fine as I can be. " I managed. "My parents are dead." His lips turned downward in sorrow.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Brooklyn." His eyes darted quickly to their bodies. GCPD was currently making a run-over on them, getting ready to move them, out of sight, out of mind. "Your parents are good people."
I held back more tears, my lip trembling. "Mhm." I nodded. "They were. My dad was an FBI agent."
"I know. I knew your father very well. He was a good man." Batman's strong voice sent a calm over me, helping some with my anxiety.
I smiled sadly. "Thank you."
Batman stood, eyes locking with Gordon's. "We have to go. Burton is immobile, and is probably going to stay that way for a while."
"That's what you think!" I gasped, looking to see Burton standing on shaky legs, a gun in his hand. "Eat my steel, sweetheart!" The shallow sound of a gun going off sounded, and bullets sprayed my way. Before Gordon, GCPD, or even the Bats could react, something slammed into me, pulling me down into the snow. I yelped as the bullets pattered harshly into the car above me, feeling something, or someone, cover my head.
There was lots of yelling then. I cracked my eyes open just as Batman and Gordon disarmed Burton and shoved him down, watching as his nose bent into the asphalt.
"Hey," I looked up suddenly, my gaze coming into contact with that of a young boy's. Robin's.
"You okay?" I nodded and he laughed, touching a gloved finger to my nose. I blushed. "Good." He smiled, moving to sit up and helping me to my feet. I examined him closely. He couldn't have been much older than me. Thirteen maybe. His eyes were covered by a dark mask, whatever color his eyes were covered by white diamonds. He was taller than me, with broad shoulders and a tangled mop of dark hair coating his head. He noticed my staring and grinned at me. I blushed again, averting my gaze.
"Get this asshole outta here!" Gordon screamed, shoving Burton towards a couple other cops who hastily stuffed him in the back of a patrol car. I turned back to Gordon; his face a complete portrayal of exhaustion and sorrow. Batman stepped forward, leaning in close to speak to the other man.
"She'll need help getting her things out of that house." He paused, leaning in. "You know where to take her. She'll be cared for."
Gordon nodded. Batman turned. "Robin! Let's go, the GCPD's got the rest of this one." Robin squeezed my shoulder suddenly, speaking to me in a light tone as he darted towards his partner.
"Stay safe, Brooke." He turned his head to me then, and gave me a reassuring smile before nodding to Batman and grappling away, their capes flapping behind them. I watched until they blended in with the rest of Gotham's ever so present shadows.
About a month later we held the funeral. Up until that point I had been staying with Detective Gordon and his daughter, Barbara. Babs was a few years older than me, but seeing as our parents were close friends and worked together, we spent a lot of time together.
She became the older sister I never had. She tutored me, was there when I needed a shoulder to cry on, and was always up for a little mischief when it came to our parents. Staying with her and her father had been nice. They were such a warm family, and Babs was always making me hot chocolate in an effort to cheer me up.
"I'm telling ya, Brooke, the chocolate is making you healthier. You don't look as pale anymore." She said the morning of the funeral, placing a steaming mug of her homemade liquid cocoa in front of me. I fretted with the hem to my black dress, twirling the bottom ruffle between my fingers slowly. Babs sat down beside me, stirring her own mug as she added her white chocolate chips.
"Too bad I still look like a walking trainwreck. Poisoning everyone with my sadness." I muttered. Babs stopped stirring. She looked at me, concern laced in her eyes.
"Brooke, where did that come from?" she asked slowly. I spared a quick glance at her, shaking my head and going to take a short sip of my hot chocolate.
"Needs more peppermint patties." I said, reaching for the little candies from the center of the table, dropping them in my mug with a cacophonous plop! I stirred roughly, trying to melt the patties as fast as I could. Babs' hand came down on mine, stopping my movements.
"Brooke." Every question she could have asked was embedded in that statement. I sighed, looking down as tears formed in my eyes.
"Bobby Brinson from school said it. Told me I was poisoning everyone wit my sadness because I couldn't just get over my parents' death." I sniffled a little, and Babs sighed, squeezing my hand gently.
"Bobby Brinson is an asshole." Babs cringed the second the words came out of her mouth and she giggled to herself before smiling warmly at me. "And Bobby Brinson doesn't know a damn thing about Brooklyn Moore, so don't let him bother you. He just doesn't understand what you're going through. And hey, when people are mean to others, it generally means someone is being mean to them and filling them with hate. Just try to block out his negativity and replace it with that amazing positivity I know you have, okay?"
I nodded, my tears receding to the backs of my eyes. She smiled wider before dropping the her face slowly. "Good. Now drink up, my dad will be here to pick us up in five minutes. I know you won't want to be late." I nodded again, now nursing the cup of cocoa sadly.
Gordon arrived a few moments later. And, with each of the Gordon's hands on my shoulders, we left the house and piled into Gordon' police vehicle.
Lots of people came to the funeral. FBI agents who were co-workers of dad, mom's old school friends, people who claimed to have known my parents increasingly well. Not only that, but my teachers, the mayor, and other families from the neighborhood all came out to mourn the loss of my beloved parents. Everyone was layered in dark coats to protect them from the cold winter air that bit at everyone.
Babs sat with me in the front, watching with sad as the ceremony went on. I didn't cry. I was surprised, but at the same time I realized how many tears I'd shed in the past month. It's amazing how much water can fit into such a small space.
The pastor Gordon hired was mom's childhood pastor. When Gordon explained exactly who had died, he refused payment, saying that my mother had given too much to the church in years past to be able to accept payment to honor her life.
He began the service with a quote from the Bible, a normality for him, and began to talk about what wonderful people my parents were. How my mother was a saint, and that her baking and voice could lighten anyone's day and make the saddest person smile. How my father was a brave man, becoming a GCPD officer when we was twenty-two, then moving on to be one of the best FBI agents ten years later, and how he never gave up and was always there for the ones he loved.
"Andrew and Jessica Moore were beautiful people with beautiful missions in life. They were always on a mission to spread love and hope in the world, and I know that same agenda has been left to their incredible young daughter, Brooklyn Annaleigh Moore."
I felt the stares of every single person there, and continued to sit ramrod straight, keeping my eyes on the two mahogany caskets in which my parents' bodies laid. I gripped the piece of paper I held in my hands tightly, like a lifeline. It was a eulogy, written to my parents from me over the past month.
"Please let your prayers and love be sent her way, as she is young and just beginning her journey in the world. Brooklyn dear, would you like to speak at this time?" Nerves and sorrow rattled my frame, and I felt Babs' hand on my shoulder as she whispered in my ear.
"You don't have to speak if you're not up for it, Brooke." she said quietly, eyes flickering to all of the people who trained their gazes on me. I shook my head at her.
"I could never forgive myself if I couldn't." Babs smiled sadly at me and nodded, motioning for me to make my way up. I stood, and walked to where the pastor stood, my legs shaking nervously. I had written a short eulogy for my parents, deeming me the appropriate choice seeing as my grandparents on both sides were both unable to attend, as well as become my main caretakers. Something about them not being stated in the will to be left with me.
"Please forgive me for not having been brave, Daddy. I promised you and mom that I would be brave that day, but I've found that being brave is nearly impossible for me after what happened." I felt an oncoming sob lodge in my throat, but kept talking. "My heart has holes in it from the bullet wounds of hate that Francis Burton shot us with that day." I looked up, seeing Babs' eyes full of tears now. I blinked at her, continuing.
"But I'm working on brave. Working on patching up my hate wounds. And I promise you both, that nothing will ever again make me feel the way that day has, because I promise to always be brave, and to never let my heart hurt again." My own tears surfaced now, charting me into dangerous territory with dozens of strangers. "I will grow and learn to brave in a way that will make you both so proud. I love you. I always will."
I walked back to my sea, looking down and away from everyone around me. Babs' hand rested atop my back. I had done it. And now it was time for the hardest part.
The actual burial.
After the funeral, Gordon and Barbara shook everyone's hand and bid them farewell for me. While they stood at the entrance of the cemetery, I sat at my parents' graves close by, fingers tracing the headstones carefully.
Andrew Marcus Moore
Beloved father, husband, friend, and Hero to us all.
March 17th, 1972-December 28th, 2011
Jessica Eileen Branwell Moore
Loving Mother, Wife, Friend and Good Samaritan to all who seek kindness.
April 5th, 1975-December 28th, 2011
"Take care of each other, okay?" I murmured. "And dad, I promise to be brave. I promise, just for you guys."
"Do ya keep all yer promises girly?" a slurring voice said. I whirled around, seeing a man in grubby jeans and a nearly shredded jacket standing before me, a toothy grin on his face. "Because I'd like ya to make me some, if ya don't mind."
"Uhm.." I stepped back and into the headstones, my fingers curling over the edge. "I'm sorry, sir, but my mother always told me to never talk to strangers."
"Why follow mama's rules when she's clearly dead and buried, eh? She's just beggin' you to break the rules now, ain't she? One misstep, and she'll be risin' from the dead to send you to your bedroom." He cackled, slapping his knee. Seeing my face, he started to coo, "Oh I'm sorry. Too soon?"
"Unfortunately."
"Well little girly, unfortunately is a pretty peculiar word, and I'm gonna use it, because unfortunately...it's your unlucky day."
I squealed as he grabbed my arms, pulling me off of the headstone and towards him, his hands fumbling around with what looked like rope. I realized what was happening. He was kidnapping me.
I screamed, thrashing around in his grasp and trying to kick him any way I could.
His grimy hand slipped over my mouth, squeezing hard. "Shut up! We don't want anyone seeing us, now do we?" The tone and accent in his voice changed, suddenly sounding so much more professional all of a sudden.
"Let me go!" I screeched, my words muffled by his hand. I continued to squirm roughly, screaming especially when his hand crept around my inner thigh.
"You'll make a pretty little thing to play with, just wait until the bossman hears about-"
BONK!
There was a harsh, heavy sound and the man fell atop me. Immensely powerful body odor from the disgusting man flooded my nostrils as I tried to push his body off of me. Someone beat me to it though. They pried off the man's body and reached down, helping to pull me up with their cold and clean hands.
They stumbled a little in the process, causing m to bump chests with them. They laughed, helping me to straighten myself out.
"Are you alright?" I looked up, my gaze connecting with sparkling green irises. I merely nodded, slightly gaping at the boy who had seemingly saved me. A shovel laid on the ground next to him. "I saw him trying to kidnap you. I was almost worried I'd hurt you in the process of taking him out."
"I'm not hurt, and I think I'll be fine. Thank you." I flushed as he smiled, nodding at me in a 'you're welcome' gesture.
"Brooklyn!" Gordon ran over, followed by a younger man, his face grim as he saw the now-unconscious man lying in the slushy dirt. "Are you okay? What the hell happened?"
I nodded. "I am now. I think I was almost kidnapped, but luckily I wasn't. Thanks to…" I had a blank. I didn't even know my savior's name. "Uh…" I looked to the boy, who grinned.
"Jason. Jason Todd."
I nodded again. "Jason. He hit the man with a shovel. Pretty hard too."
"Jesus Christ, I'm sorry for leaving you so alone, Brooklyn. I won't do it again, I swear." Gordon looked down at the man, brows furrowed in confusion. "Wait a second...is that…?"
"That's Nathaniel Kelly." the younger man standing next to him chimed in, a frown on his face. "Hasn't he been running around Gotham kidnapping young girls?"
Gordon's eyes widened, and Kelly started grumbling in a foreign language. "Son of a bitch. Stupid Europeans." He muttered under his breath. I forced myself not to laugh.
I watched as Gordon handcuffed the man, shoving him back onto the ground and pulling out a radio. "I've got a kidnapper at Gotham Cemetery. Requesting pickup."
"You got it commissioner. Officers are on en route now."
"You can't take me to jail! Do you know who I work for?" Kelly suddenly grumbled from the ground. He rolled over, facing us. "I work for Edward Nygma! The Riddler! He'll get me out!"
"Last I checked, Nygma didn't quite care for his lackeys." Gordon laughed.
Kelly's eyes widened as he began to yell, his language changing. "Is é seo an mutiny! Frithcheilg rá liom!"
"Shut up!" Gordon hauled him up just as pickup arrived, walking him over, still screaming what sounded like obscenities straight into the car. Gordon tapped the back of the cruiser, and it took off. He jogged back over to us, smiled at the other man and looked back to me. Motioning to the taller, younger man, he said, "Brooke, this is Mister Bruce Wayne. He was a very good friend of your father and mother's, your father from school."
I surveyed Bruce warily. Everyone knew who Bruce Wayne was, but if he was such a good friend pf my parents, why had I not met him? "How come I've never met you before?"
"You have. You were just a lot younger. Your father and I were close in school, we just haven't been able to meet often in recent years." Bruce smiled. "Your father was a good man."
I nodded. "I didn't see you here today."
"We were in the back." Jason said and I turned to him, eyeing him curiously. "We're pretty good at keeping quiet and unnoticed."
Bruce cleared his throat. "Brooke. Your father, while we grew apart for a few years, we made up and grew close again in these past few months. And he...he somehow knew that the gang was going to try and pin an attack on your family. So he and your mother wrote up a will in advance, in the case that it did happen and you survived.
"Seeing as you did. That leaves quite a bit left for you. And your parents also left a specific name as to whom your guardian would be, seeing as they deemed both sets of grandparents unfit to be such." He took a breath, giving me a moment to prepare for his next statement. "You parents named me your new guardian."
My eyes widened. "Oh." I couldn't quite place what I was feeling. Shock mostly. My parents wanted me to live the rest of my life with a man I barely knew in contrast to Babs and Commissioner Gordon? But it made sense. Yes, my dad and Gordon were close, but thinking about it now, I could see why he wouldn't want to burden the Commissioner with another kid. Barbara was just a few years from graduating and was used to her father being gone most of the time on work. Gotham was a busy city, one that needed its Commissioner.
Bruce grimaced slightly. "I know you must be feeling a little nervous about this and maybe and probably a little confused. But I promise I'll do everything in my power to make Wayne Manor comfortable and safe for you."
I bit my lip hesitantly. "Would I be able to visit the Gordons?" The Commissioner's face radiated love in that moment, as if my saying that had warmed his heart. Bruce smiled at me.
"Of course. You're close with Barbara, I understand?" I nodded. "Do you happen to know her friend, Dick? Dick Grayson? It's my understanding that they're very close as well." I knew Dick. He had come over a few times the past month and hung out with Babs and I. He helped Barbara make me hot chocolate, helped me with my homework when Babs couldn't, and I distinctly remember one afternoon where Dick helped me bake a cake for Babs' birthday. I hadn't wanted my month of sorrow to overshadow her big day, so I snuck onto her phone one and called Dick, begging him to come over the next day to help me surprise her once she got home.
"I know Dick." I said, a small smile forming on my face.
"You'll be seeing a lot of him. He lives with me at Wayne Manor. So of course, visiting with the Gordon's will always be an option for you. In fact, if you'd like, you can spend another week with the Gordon's to prepare for your moving?"
"Only if it's alright with the Commissioner." I said quietly, peeking at Gordon from the side. He nodded and my heart soared.
"Of course, Kiddo. Whatever you want."
I looked to Bruce, who nodded. "We'll see you in a week, Brooklyn.
A week later and I stood on the doorstep of Wayne Manor, backpack slung over my shoulder and Barbara by my side. Seeing Wayne Manor had taken my breath away. The building was beautiful. It was almost gothic looking, but rather than send chills of terror down your spine, it made my heart swell. The dark gray was almost comforting with its rained on appearance. The gardens around it were well kept, bright reds and greens and yellows bringing splashes of color to the otherwise colorless spot. Trees lined the driveway, providing perfect shade spots for the days that the sun would decide to grace Gotham with its presence. The manor was beautiful, that I was sure of.
Babs rang the doorbell and my heart clenched.
What if living here turned out to be awful? Maybe this was all a mistake.
Babs seemed to sense my hesitation and crouched down next to me and smiled, pressing a hand to my cheek. "I promise you, they are an amazing family once you get to know them. Everything will be okay, Brooke. I promise." I nodded and stood, picking up the box of my things she had momentarily set down.
The door swung open and a well dressed elderly man stood in the doorway, a smile forming on his face when he saw Babs.
"Miss Gordon! Always a pleasure to see your lovely face." He looked down at me then. His smile was kind and I found myself giving a small smile back. "And this must be Miss Moore." he bowed. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, young lady, my name is Alfred Pennyworth. You can call me Alfred." I giggled as he extended his hand, and I shook it nervously. "Please do come in! I'll help you with the rest of your things shortly."
We stepped inside the Mansion and I gaped. Ceilings as high as the sky towered before me, the foyer being bigger than my entire house itself. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystalline lights casting a warm glow about the house. Alfred led us through the house with a chatty demeanor, each room more spacious than the last. Expensive furniture lay about; carefully placed to make the entirety of the manor to feel homey and well filled. At one point, we passed a long wall filled with different photographs and antiques. In the middle of them all stood a large grandfather clock.
It was tall and a rich mahogany color, gold engraving and detailing embedded in the wood wherever there wasn't a carving. It was beautiful. Beautiful but, oddly placed, being so centered like that. I shrugged it off.
Alfred led us up the large carpeted staircase from the foyer and into a long hallway. After passing a few doors, we stopped in front of what appeared to be mine.
"Your room, Miss Moore. I do hope you enjoy it." He opened the door and I blinked a moment, that hesitancy creeping back into my chest. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside, my feet dipping deeply against the plush carpeting. It was a fairly spacious room, with a king-sized bed covered in bright blue sheets, striped white and blue pillows adorning the top of the mattress. The frame itself was a dark wood, the dresser, end table and desk matching perfectly. Conjoined was a bathroom with marbled white plumbing. But the biggest thing I noticed was the large window at the furthest end of the room. It nearly took up a whole wall, but the view outside was breathtaking. Miles of trees and other additional parts to the Wayne Manor loomed before me, along with a perfect view of the city in the distance, the lights starting to twinkle from it brightly as the sun began its descent behind Gotham's tall towers and busy casino lights.
"Alfred?" Bruce's voice suddenly called from outside the room.
"Ah, that'll be Master Bruce, now." Alfred said briskly, making his way out of the room.
I set down my backpack and sat on the bed, feeling Babs sit down next to me.
"You okay?" I simply leaned my head against her shoulder, shrugging.
"Eventually, yeah. I think I will." She patted my leg, going to stand. I followed suit.
"C'mon. Let's go say hi to Bruce." she said softly, leading me out of the bedroom and down the stairs, where a tired looking Bruce stood, Dick and Jason bickering behind him. The second Babs hit the floor, however, Dick stopped arguing with Jason-who was very much annoyed by whatever Dick had said to him-and rushed over to engulf Babs in a warm hug.
"Brooklyn," I turned to see Bruce walk over to me, a small smile on his face. Jason leaned against the wall, watching everyone silently. "I hope you've liked what you've seen so far of Wayne Manor." Babs walked over to me, Dick close behind.
"I was gonna say, are you ready? We just have to get the rest of your stuff out and then you're all set." Her voice wavered a little, almost like she wasn't quite ready to let me go. I thought for a moment. Was I ready?" I took a breath before answering Babs, who had small tears shining in her eyes.
"Yeah, Babs. I think I'm ready."
Jason moved from his place on the wall and grinned as he stood next to Bruce. "Get ready for the ride of your life. And the best chocolate chip cookies." Bruce chuckled, and everyone around me smiled.
"Welcome home, Brooklyn."