Disclaimer
I do not own Batman Begins. The marvelous people at DC Comics and the movie people do. I own Eleanor Black/Sophie Macarthur, her background and everyone associated with her who's not from the movie. I also own the parts of the plot that were added or changed. Nothing serious was done though, don't worry. The fic is rated for language, violence, sexual situations, drinking, blood, and a serious cat fight.
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Note
Please forgive the strange format of the prologue. I was having fun.
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Superhero's Confidante
Prologue: Child of Rape
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Part One: Violation
Heart pounding in her ears, she ran. Tears and sweat streaming down her skin, she fled. She was terrified like she had never had been in her life; he was following her, chasing her, hunting her. He was running too, and he was faster. He was gaining on her, the distance between them steadily shrinking, closing. He wanted to hurt her, to break her, to violate her… She screamed and pushed herself farther, faster onward. So did he.
Rain pelted her pale skin as she headed for the main street. Her dark hair was plastered to her face and neck; having come untangled from it's elegant up do, it now hung in a ragged mass. Her eyes were wide and wild, and a scream was permanently caught in her throat.
In a horrid twist of fate, a chunk of something appeared under her foot and sent her flying forward to meet the ground, only steps from the main road. As if to taunt her, a car zipped past in a torrent of arching water. She tried to claw along the pavement, tried to pull herself to salvation, freedom, but it was no use.
She knew she was caught.
His hands appeared on her shoulder less than thirty seconds later and then she was on her back. He roughly lashed his hands over her body and pried open her legs, exploring to his heart's content with his hands. He hit her when she protested. She only fought at the beginning, only a little while longer, before she gave up and submitted to her inevitable fate. Knowing there was no way she could fight back, no way she could save herself, she closed her eyes and bit her lip until she tasted blood. He climbed on top of her and laughed. He laughed and took her. He moved repulsively inside her, pinning her down, bruising her arms. Blood poured from her, pooling beneath her, and she cried, sobbed, but let him have her.
Time passed astonishingly, agonizingly slow as he raped her again and again and again. Tears kept flowing but she wouldn't, couldn't fight back. She hated feeling the movement inside her; hated hearing his laughter, groans, his pleasure. She hated herself, her weakness, her cowardice.
Finally, he rose, fixed himself, blew her a sardonic kiss and then left. Left her lying on the ground, broken, crying, alone. Violated.
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Part Two: Birth
She'd known as soon as the vile man had finished with her, that she'd become pregnant. She knew he'd bear his child. Now, as she sat on the cracked asphalt, writhing in sweat-soaked pain, she cried because the monster's baby was emerging. A bloody bubble of skin formed between her legs and she screamed; half in pain, half in horror. To her, this was an abomination. This was not her child. Soon, a shrill, painful cry mimicked her screams and dimly she wondered if the baby could possibly know what it was.
Shaking, she banished the thought from her mind, not allowing herself to become at all attached to the child, and reached behind her hip for the knife. With a final push and spurt of blood, the child joined her mother twisting on the pavement. She reached forward, down between her trembling, blood-soaked legs and held the blade above the baby's neck. A sudden wave of emotion stayed her hand. Could she do it? Could she kill this innocent child?
She hesitated only a moment longer. Then, through he tears, and for the same reason she hadn't gotten an abortion, she severed the umbilical cord. Abandoning the knife in a dumpster, she clawed her was to her feet and stumbled from the alleyway, leaving the newborn child crying, screaming, wailing behind her. She couldn't help but feel a little guilty… Even though the child had been sired by a monster, it was only a child, only newborn, and there was no possible way it could be evil like its father… And that inexplicable connection between offspring and life-giver tugged her backwards to the alleyway. She stopped once, and turned to look at the dark opening before she took off rambling into the dark Gotham night.
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Only an hour or two later, a man appeared on the street. The strange noises ofGotham city were around him. They were normal, almost strangely comforting. Another noise was what caught his attention and was what had drawn him to this abandoned alleyway outside the dingy club. It sounded like… crying. Like a baby crying… And it was coming from the alleyway he was standing in front of. But who would leave a baby in an alley? Slowly, carefully, he crept into the narrow opening, looking around for the source of the disturbing noise. And there it was… Just lying behind a dumpster; a still-bloody baby, crying, screaming, cold, scared, hungry, alone.
It broke his heart.
He nearly collapsed to his knees in the pool of gently shimmering blood and swept the child into his arms. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he held the baby girl to his chest, snuggling her under his jacket. He tried to hush her and he hurried from the alley, heading for the only place he knew she'd be safe, cared for.
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Part Three: A Family and a Name
The hospital was cold in appearance, like most of Gotham City, but the air inside was warm, as was the coffee and the hearts of the nurses who took the baby girl into their nest of arms. He was seated in a empty corner of the waiting room as a lady from child services sternly looked him over.
"What is your name, sir?" she asked, her voice as cold as the fluorescent lighting and her eyes even colder. "And how did you come upon the baby girl?"
"My name is Liam Black, and I found her. In an alley about three miles from here. She was alone, bloody, and crying. Hungry, probably. Scared. I took her and ran here, knowing she'd be all right here."
"What were your hopes for the child?"
This woman had no interest in children. She was merely a greedy, spoiled bitch-dog of a woman – the kind that deserved to be on a leash. She wanted money, not happiness for any of the children she serviced. She wanted material things, like the heavy gold necklace around her pencil-thin neck. She cared nothing for emotions; the ring on her finger was probably a commitment for money, too.
"I want to adopt her," Liam almost snapped.
She huffed and nearly stuck her pointed nose in the air. "I do not think that would be wise. Are you married, Mr. Black? Do you have a girlfriend? How big is your house? How much do you make? Do you have the skills, the resources to take on a child who really needs the care of a woman?"
Liam was reaching the end of his nerves. He fixed the woman with a hard look, the one he reserved for the businessmen he wasn't fond of, and snarled. "I'm going to adopt that baby girl! She had no home and no family, and the best place for her is with me! I'm rich – I have a fortune to my name. I can move to accommodate her. I have a fiancée whom I plan to marry in under a year, and yes, we will have the skills and resources to take care of this girl. I am going to adopt her. Is that understood?" He had risen from his seat, and was dripping water on the woman's lap, onto her thousand dollar skirt-suit.
The woman rose to meet him, but a retort was a while in coming, and it wasn't much of a retort at that. "Well… Fine then. But I'll be keeping an eyes on how you raise her."
"Whatever."
Soon, the nurses emerged, carrying the young girl between them, a cute little matching outfit and hat covering her naked body. She was asleep and sucking on a pacifier the nurses had supplied. One nurse stepped forward and handed her to Liam. Another one handed him a rather large bag packed with supplies for the first little while.
"What are you going to name her, sir?" one of the nurses asked.
Liam smiled. "Eleanor, after my mother, and Alexandra after my sister. Eleanor Alexandra Black."
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"I didn't know Naomi was pregnant, Liam."
Liam smiled at his long-time friend. "She's not, and she wasn't. You know that. I found this angel in an alley, lying in a pool of blood… She looked to be newly born."
Thomas smiled. "And you, with your soft heart, had to take her as your own." He was only joking. Liam's compassion, love and kind nature was and had always had been a source of jealousy for Thomas. "Let's head into the living room. I'm sure Martha and Naomi have finished their chat. Bruce has probably returned from his piano lesson as well. I know they both wanted to meet Eleanor."
The men proceeded into the next room, Liam holding Eleanor protectively in his arms. Naomi came to stand beside her fiancée, a smiling plastered across her beautiful face, and soon Martha and Thomas had completed the small crowd.
"Liam, she's beautiful… Look at that hair. She's going to have masses of it by the time she's Bruce's age!" Martha took the child in her arms and caressed her soft cheek. "Hopefully she won't be quite as terrifying as he is…" She offered a smile to her son, who was sitting with his arms crossed on the large couch.
"What's with the sour look, Bruce?" Liam asked.
"I want to see."
Martha brought the child to her son and sat beside him, placing Eleanor in his lap. He smiled brightly and held her tenderly, as one might hold a bunch of eggs. He ran his fingers down his cheek, and his face brightened even more when Eleanor awoke from her slumber to stare up at him with intense blue eyes.
"What's her name?" he asked, never looking away.
"Eleanor," Liam answered in a whisper.
"Ellie-nor!" Bruce said proudly.
"Yes, Ellie-nor."