Dear Audience & fellow members of . I own nothing of Batman & I have no rights whatsoever to it. This is merely for fun. On that note, I have very little experience when it comes to writing! I wish to better myself, & simply share my ideas. Also I'm really just looking for a healthy outlet for the madness & perverted nature of my mind. You have been warned. So I make no promises of perfection! P.S. If this story is Mary Sue like in anyway, forgive me, I like most don't wish to be a Mary Sue writer but if you the reader find it to be such. Please pass over it & ignore my story. Also I will be trying to portray the characters both accurately & how I perceive them. Therefore things will inevitably be a bit twisted. Also my comic book knowledge is limited. Most of my knowledge is from the animated series, movies, & lots of junk. I repeat inaccuracies are to be expected.

Well now that the pleasantries have been addressed. It's on with the show. The only thing I have left to say is this; will have multiple chapters. And it may be a bit slow, however, I hope it will be worth it.

Now allow me to pull the curtain, and open the window….

Second Star to the Left.

By: Stella Limegood

Prologue:

She hated her job. It was a cold hard fact of life. Scrubbing dishes was the pits. The water was dirty & brown due to spit and food remnants from the pans. She was by herself tonight. Her auburn hair, which depending on the light could be black or tinted red was full of grease. She was pale and currently sweaty. She was also short. Her body was leaning over the sink, her front getting soaked, while her arms stayed mostly submerged in the thilthy water. Her poor hands occupied with scrubbing the dishes were without gloves.

"So many damn dishes," she thought sullenly, in contrast her face remained expressionless. Six years she had worked here part-time. Yet despite the fact that she hated it, she knew she would come again to her next shift. Still she heard the voice in her soul say, "I hate this."

Bang! As if in slow motion she watched a plate hit the wall on her left, causing her to instinctually move right. "Sorry bout that Wendle," said Jerry a tall lanky 40 year old chef, "I didn't scare ya did I? Didn't mean to throw it so hard."

"It's alright Jerry! No worries!" she heard herself say in a light-hearted happy tone, a small yet kind smile on her face. It was like living a recording. Every other night Jerry threw plates at her sink, trying to deliberately piss her off, for his own amusement. She knew why he did this. She also knew it was her own fault that he did this. However like a trained dog, she couldn't stop her automatic responses of subservience. As he replied to her, "Dang Wendle you really are the nicest woman in all of Gotham! What I wouldn't give if my wife back home was a bit more like you."

"Thank you Jerry, do you need me to get you a drink?" she felt the words tumble out of her mouth. Her mind was growing angry, all of a sudden leaving the kitchen of the café became a priority. "Why that'd be swell Ms. Wendle, I'll have a Coke," said Jerry.

"Okay!" she responded cheerfully as her inner mind hissed the word, "asshole".

As she poured herself a glass of sprite, and the "plate throwing jerk" a coke, she saw the briefest flash of bad memories flitter across her mind. Images of a small kitchen; a man and woman screaming, broken dishes on the floor, a broken lip, blood, and a wailing baby, all fought for attention, but not a soul around her would notice that despite her calm demeanor, her eyes were growing cold.

"No. I mustn't think about that." She suddenly yelled at herself internally. Eyes closing shut against her inner mind. A slight headshake followed in an effort for more clarity. "I must focus on the now. I must focus on the now. I must…"

"Hey Wendle! How've you been? How's that cutie of yours Zoey doing?" came the voice of Marie, from behind her. She felt her mind go into what she had dubbed her "recording mode," her voice nothing but light & pleasantness, "She's great! Marie! How are you?" She heard herself ask despite having no real interest at all in Marie's life, truthfully.

"Oh you know how it is in Gotham, with my gals, been chasing after that bachelor Bruce Wayne, with Charon & Sam. I swear the other nigh he was lookin so fine! He would have made a sweat thing like you blush so hard…." On and on she went, as Wendle tried not to drift back into her own head.

As she felt her mind slipping she began to analyze & categorize her fellow worker. Marie Ermegarde was a waitress at the Night's Café along with Charon and Samantha. They were all around their 30's-40's, all divorced. All had at least one child. That was either living with grandparents, adopted by another family, or living with their father instead. All enjoyed being man hunters, and all had the same goal to date the rich & wealthy. Marie herself wanted nothing more in life than to become the next Mrs. Wayne.

"And did ya hear Wendle! Wayne is going to have a Grand Opening Gala at the New City's Observatory! You know, that tall new building that practically floats above the main river by that big bridge?" asked Marie suddenly.

"No. I'm sorry. I haven't," replies Wendle honestly. She truly hadn't.

"You haven't? Wendle, girl, you need to get out more! It's only going to be the biggest party of the century," Marie stated, eyes wide with a well polished manicured nail swinging inches from Wendle's face, "why even the President may show up! The Justice League! Why even Superman!"

"Sorry. Marie. Guess it just slipped by me," she said cheerfully, tilting her head to the side, a soft, "oh well," smile upon her face. Eyes blinking shut, "The president of the country? Superman." she felt her mind store that for more thought later.

"Aww. Wendle, girl that's alright," said Marie, pity in her face, as she petted Wendle's head like a puppy. "It's understandable, with you being 22, working two jobs, as young as ya are and raisin your six year old child," Marie finished, an edge of scorn in her tone, her eyes displaying nothing but disdain, and judgment. As she then pinched Wendle's cheek saying, "Well. You just let me know if you need a break. The other gal's and I will let you tag along. Sweet cheeks."

With that said, Marie then turned on her black stiletto heel, and attended the four gentleman now at the bar. Who hadn't missed the exchange, their grinning faces causing her to blush in embarrassment. She had to get to the bathroom. "Hey there Sweet Cheeks, if you need a break, how about you come on over here!" one called.

"Yeah baby, I'll show you something, truly sweet!" said another.

She blocked out their catcalls. Forcing herself to not look around her as others in the café added their …two cents. As she walked towards the stairs that led to the bathroom and the owner's office, she felt her control over her rage intensify. Her smile that she always wore, her cover, her protection, her mask to the world began falling away.

As she climbed the stairs and entered the grungy women's bathroom with its broken lights, she allowed herself to release. Quickly, locking the wooden door behind her, to block out any would be intruders unto her moment of weakness. For that's what it was to her.

Her frustration over her life, was hammering away at her soul. Over the past six years, if not longer she had been struggling. Struggling to keep a life together. Struggling to keep herself together. Struggling to simply live. She felt the floodgate of tears come as the memories that she had tried to suppress earlier remerged in full force. She felt herself walk over to the toilet seat, after putting the lid down; she sat on the toilet, hands holding her head. Her tears of bitterness flowing freely, as her anger raged within her.

Then as if to make things worse, Marie's comments entered her head, and she felt herself grow lonely. The truth glaring like a neon sign in her mind, "I hate them. I hate it all," she whispered. Only one thought, stopped her misery, only one word halted the self-hatred within her, "Zoey."

"Zoey," she repeated to herself aloud.

With that thought, she wiped her tears from her face. Got up & went to the dirty sink. The mirror above the sink was cracked in three spots before her. She splashed her face with water. Gazing at her reflection. She would go back to the kitchen. She would finish her shift. Wear the smiling mask, pretend to be the kind, fool everyone thought she was. Then later tonight she would go home. Home to her Zoey. Who would need to be tucked in along with a bedtime story. Zoey, who was only six. Zoey, who was innocent and good. Who needed her protection. Zoey, the reason she still breathed. Both her salvation and her burden. Zoey her child. Zoe.

Still as she gazed into her own dark brown eyes, tints of green around the pupils, she felt her selfishness rear it's head and her mind whisper desperately,

"If only, someone else in Gotham could understand. If only….I wasn't so stupid."

With that last thought she shut her mind. Tuned out the bad memories and opened the door. As she came down she ignored everyone, grinning cheerfully, as she entered the kitchen, to an irate Jerry, "Where the hell have you been Wendle!"

"Sorry Jerry, I got overheated. Won't happen again!" she said eyes wide.

"Yeah well. You better not!" screamed Jerry.

"No worries! I won't! Sorry. Sorry!" replied Wendle, automatically. As she once more submerged herself in the dirty water of downtown Gotham's spit.