A/N Thank you all for hanging in there and expressing your interest in my writing. I have had this rattling around in my skull for a few months now, but a lot of it is still under construction. So, for now, I'll be releasing a chapter a week. At least until I figure out the way I want it to roll. Also, I don't own Batman or it's characters, however any original characters within are allll mine.
Alright, let's get this show on the road!
Lithe feet struck silently against the dingy tile of the visitor's entrance. Their owner's gaze darted back and forth as she nervously readjusted her grungy cap, a sorry grey sort of affair, and inhaled deeply. She held it, committed to her plan, before exhaling as she shifted into action and walked to the sign in sheet. Her slim fingers plucked up the pen chained to the counter, yet another reminder of where she was. What this pen could be used to do. Her lips pressed a little tighter together, brow furrowed as the smell of desperation seeped into her skin, probably from the woman in line behind her who rocked on the balls of her feet and hunched a bit, as if trying to comfort herself from the bleakness of this room and what lie beyond.
Cassandra Jones.
The period mocked her, as if to remind her that no one was checking for punctuation or even cared that she was here. No one cared about anything in this sad haunting hellish place. Blinking back the burn in her eyes, she turned away from the counter and swept the room full of plastic creaking chairs. Some had carvings in the plastic seats, while some were broken with great chunks of orange plastic sticking straight up in jagged reprimand for anyone looking to find any sort of comfort here.
She picked one closest to the vending machine, ignoring the nausea that rose deep in her gullet at the sight of the cheap offerings, the memory of a younger her gouging deep into spongy cakes and synthetically cheesy chips with a pathetic voracity. She was so willing to eat anything to feed that gnawing, ceaseless hunger. She turned her face away from the bags of junk, eyes finding the sheet as if able to will her name to be called.
Irritated with herself, unable to deal with her own pining, she turned her gaze on her fellow waiters. It was slim pickings, it being noon on a Wednesday, when she was supposed to be in school in fact. But this was infinitely more important than that. So she focused on anything but herself and what….who she was here to see. There was an older man who seemed unruffled by this place as he worked on what looked like a crossword puzzle. There was a teenager with him, and her head rested on his shoulder as she barely watched his pencil scribble his best guesses. Already bored, she turned her gaze on the woman who'd stood behind her in line, now taking her seat further back against the wall.
She looked put together, wearing what looked like a uniform for the local grocers since she was still wearing her lanyard. She fret silently, patting and securing some unseen hair back into place then going to work on her nails. She couldn't see them well, having left her glasses at home, but she would be willing to bet they were gnawed to the quick. Just like hers were, since her brand new manicure was already chipped and gnarly from the nervous ride here. Her viewing party was interrupted by the door opening to admit a burly looking guard, her gaze remained uninterested until he met hers with a hint of frustration and walked over to her.
He seemed uninterested in making a scene as he kneeled by her chair and leaned in, enough to look uninteresting to anyone watching but too close for her tastes. He smelled rank. "Sweetie, you're not allowed to be here without your guardian. Those were the conditions of the visitation, as settled by the judge. Now we're going to call them and let them know you're here. I'm sure they're very worried."
Her head snapped up and her lips twisted to refute him, but he was already standing and extending his hand. Some cheap parody of sympathy on his face distorted her stomach and she clenched her hands on the cold hard plastic of her seat. "No, I'm here to see Slain. I'm not leaving until I see him." She frowned up at him, nervousness returning. He seemed so much….bigger. His frown made him look much meaner too, and she could suddenly see why the guards stayed behind those doors instead of the waiting room. It made this too real, too pressing.
She felt the need to run, eyes alighting on the door he'd come through, and her senses left her. Her feet got under her, shoving herself off the chair and into motion as she sprinted for the door. She heard him shout, and she was at the door, grasping the handle and yanking, a desperate cry leaving her chapped lips as it didn't even budge. Her frenzied brain noticed the scanner attached to the wall, flaunting the fact that she'd been so stupid to think it would open for her.
She kept yanking, hearing murmurs behind her as her cheeks burned hot and her eyes burned hotter. "Please, let me in." She whispered, turning to find someone, anyone, who was really sympathetic. The older guy had left his puzzle in his seat, talking in a low voice to the guard, who no longer looked angry, just tired. He nodded at something then turned to talk to the guard seated at the counter. She looked up as the guy came closer, her hand still tight around the door handle. He cleared his throat and nodded to her grip. "I think it's safe to let go now. How about we talk? Just a quick chat, I promise I'm one of the good guys." He moved his tan coat aside to show her a gleaming Gotham PD badge clipped to his belt.
Her face felt tight, temples throbbing in her upset. But she nodded and let go of the handle, following him as he gestured to where his daughter now peered at her with blatant curiosity. She sat in his vacated seat and gripped his puzzle in her lap. He sat on the other side of her, turning his body to look directly at her. His gaze felt like one of those spotlight lamps she'd seen in a theatre once, intense and blinding.
"I just want to see my brother. I need to see him." She repeated lowly, as if any louder would shine a spotlight on her desperation for him to prod at. But he didn't, if anything his expression softened further. He scrubbed his palm over his jaw, sighed deeply and looked at the guards by the counter. "Hang on, kid." He grunted as he stood and headed over, leaving her with his kid. Although calling her kid seemed like a relative term, since she looked her age if not older. "Don't worry, my dad is pretty cool. I'm sure he can get them to back off." She smiled slightly but it dropped just as quickly, almost as if she was aware how gauche it would be to smile here.
She watched the guards, they seemed irritated, but there was a lot of nodding. She didn't want to be hopeful, but it bloomed in her chest despite her wariness. But it paid off when he returned with a visitor badge and handed it over to her. "Here kid, enjoy your visit. And make sure to call your parents after, couldn't budge them on that one, sorry." She snatched it from his hand, muttering an apology after but she was already up and veering towards the door. She swiped the badge at the scanner and delighted at the tinny 'beep' it exuded before the door popped open for her.
Manners hammered into her by persistent parents had her turning, holding the door with her foot as she looked at the guy again. "Thank you officer…" Her face burned, she never got his name. He smiled with understanding, puzzle back in his hands. "Detective Gordon, and this is my daughter Barbara. It was a pleasure meeting you, Cassandra." He waved. She fidgeted, looking over her shoulder to the pathway to her brother. "Uhm, you can call me Casey." They weren't friends, teenagers weren't friends with adults, but she had a feeling they would meet again. He had done her a huge solid, the least she could give was a little less formality.
She turned again, off like a shot before the door could even close.