I see you've flocked in droves for another addition.
*looks out at crowd and sees a single person, staring at their phone*
...Right. Anyway, here's the second chapter, I guess. *sniffle*
*person starts recording with their phone* Hey! Can you cry a little louder? I'm trying to make a fail video.
Me: *glares at phone until it spontaneously combusts*
(Serious note though, this chapter and its last line actually came from a story I wrote years ago where Bruce and Dick meet in a world where both their parents lived. Huh. Maybe I should bring it back...)
Charity - the voluntary giving of help to those in need. Synonyms: aid, relief.
Rachel didn't really keep track of time. It seemed silly to do, in a way. Most of the girls stuck in solitary had dish duty or washed the laundry as part of their punishment, but because the warden knew about her fence climbing abilities, had decided it was best to keep her trapped in the tiny little box they called a room. For a girl who once flew two stories in the air without the service of a net, this did not go over very well. She constantly paced and did small flips or cartwheels; stretched into weird positions in the middle of the cold hard floor.
She had been about to bounce off the bed and see how many flips she could do when the sound of the door unlocking echoed loudly around her room. A nice looking woman, probably a clerk, had opened it and stepped slightly out of the way for a large, stiff man in a large, stiff suit to walk in and smile fakely at her. As soon as the door shut behind the clerk, he dropped it for a more empathetic expression. To be honest, it was the first one Rachel had seen. It wasn't pity, or anger, or fake smiles, or strained laughs.
It was his understanding that she was alone, and that she was confused and terrified, and so many other things.
She slowly sat down on her hard cot and waited for his response. He took a couple steps until he was towering over her, then got down on one knee so he was level with her. It was a nice feeling to have someone actually care about her craning her neck to look up at them. He stuck out a hand and she tentatively grasped it with her own, much smaller one. He shook it with a small smile.
"I'm Bruce Wayne. What's your name?"
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his ploy for normality. He had to know who she was to ask to see her.
"Rachel Grayson."
He nodded firmly, as if that decided it; whatever it was. When he nodded, she also saw him give her a quick once-over before Mr. Wayne gave her bruised and bedraggled state a very concerned look. He glanced at the door before talking in the quietest voice Rachel had ever heard a person use.
"Are they treating alright in here, Rachel?"
She nodded her head. "Just fine, Mr. Wayne. I've been in solitary for the past...what day is today?"
"Thursday."
"The past week, then."
He gave her a concerned look and she shrugged, though his seemingly sincere concern was the first she'd seen in what felt like an eternity, she was too scared to show that it affected her. She struggled for nonchalance when everything inside her was fluttering with the hope that she would be getting out of here. Mr. Wayne seemed conflicted before shuffling carefully closer.
"How many people have come to visit you?"
Somehow embarrassed at her lack of numbers, Rachel looked away and blushed. "Nobody besides reporters."
His eyes saddened incredibly, in a refreshingly genuine way. Most of the reporters just patted her knee or drew their eyebrows together and puckered their lips before quickly continuing. Again, his sincerity came as a wave of relief for her not to have to pretend that everything was alright just because nobody understood.
"Everything is not okay," Rachel whispered as tears began to fall of their own volition.
Mr. Wayne was hesitant in his movements as he haltingly wrapped his arms around her, moving his large, warm hand in a circular motion on her back as she began to sob like she had never sobbed before. She buried her head in his shoulder, her tears soiling his expensive suit jacket.
"No Rachel, everything isn't okay. But we're going to make it okay together."
She lifted her head and looked at him. She was no longer sobbing, but she still took deep, shuddering breaths that wracked her small frame.
"I'm going to take you away from here to come live with me if that's what you really want."
Rachel felt her chest tighten with so many clamoring, happy emotions that all she could do was nod her head vigorously as she sniffled. His small smile grew a fraction before nodding back at her.
"I'm going to help you through this until you can say that at least something is okay because I know better than most out there how you feel."
She began roughly wiping her few remaining tears from her cheeks and smiled at him uncertainly. "Alright, Mr. Wayne. I'd really like that."
Driving up to Wayne Manor was like stepping into another world separate even from the one she had with her parents. It was a sprawling palace of beautiful old architecture and extensive lands. A friendly old man sporting a pristine suit and proper British accent had shown her to her room but didn't seem very fond of her dirty state, immediately directing her to the bathroom after she had set her small duffel down on her large bed.
Seeing as though Rachel wasn't very fond of her filthy clothes, hair, and skin, she took the man's subtle advice and quickly found her way to the immense bathroom and shucked off her disgusting clothes. Only when she reached the bathtub big enough to be a swimming pool did she realize that she had no idea how to work it.
With a blush that she was sure reached down to her toes, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself like a cape before opening the door a sliver and calling out the only name she knew.
"Mr. Wayne?!"
She heard the calculating click of expensive shoes on the dark wooden floor of the hallway until the old man appeared in her vision, limited by the slim space of the crack.
"Master Bruce is otherwise occupied, young miss. What did you need?"
Rachel's blush increased tenfold and she shuffled her feet and opened the door a bit more.
"I, uh...I don't know how to turn on the bathtub, mister."
The well-dressed man chuckled before smiling warmly at her. "Don't worry a wit, Mistress Rachel. Master Bruce still has no idea."
She allowed a small giggle to pass through at the man's comment. It was slightly reassuring to know that at least she and Mr. Wayne were on the same page with that at least. She was about to tell him so when she realized a very important missing detail.
"Um, I'm really sorry mister, but I don't know your name."
Rachel opened the door until she was sure he could get in, and did, while he responded. "Alfred Pennyworth, at your beck and call."
She refused to ask what that meant, seeing as though he would probably think she was stupid, and she didn't want his kind attitude towards her change because he thought she wasn't as intelligent as him. She simply nodded and paid close attention to what his nimble hands did as he carefully turned on the water and adjusted it accordingly. Every so often, he would ask her to stick her hand under the gushing flow of the faucet to see if it was to her liking. As soon as she found the right temperature, she nodded and waited with Alfred for the tub to fill up. He even added some of the shampoo to make a bubble bath, even after Rachel affirmed that she was much too big for such a thing.
Once it was all set up, he smiled at her one more time before turning to leave. "Thank you, Mr. Alfred."
Because he was turned away, she couldn't tell what his facial expression was, but she had a very firm belief that he still had that warm smile on his lips as he nodded his head and walked out, allowing her to slip in and begin to feel human again.
A week passed, and Rachel's new guardian had suggested she start going to school; a place where she could meet kids her age and learn things in a classroom. As a traveling circus performer, she had never learned things at a group speed. It had always just been her and her parents in their cozy little trailer reading from the books they owned and teaching her everything they knew of math, history, and English.
"I don't know Mr. Wayne..."
Rachel and Bruce sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, the former swinging her stool from side to side restlessly. He looked at her disapprovingly over the Gotham Gazette; his already finished Daily Planet underneath the empty plate that had at one point contained egg whites and whole wheat toast before he had inhaled it absently.
"Rachel, I thought I told you to call me Bruce. And besides, I feel bad for keeping you holed up in this empty old place. I have this very real fear that I'll come home one day to find you with a beard and a cane yelling at kids to keep off your lawn."
While the joke seemed funny enough - it had gotten her to laugh, hadn't it? - It still felt like he had been trying too hard to inject a forced lightness to his tone. It always seemed that way when she was with him. They would eat breakfast together, sometimes in utter silence and other times with uselessly idle chatter, before he rushed off to work and usually wasn't seen again until the next morning, where they would repeat the cycle. Sometimes the busy tycoon made it in time for supper, but usually, he only appeared in time to catch some eggs and toast while looking haggard and either in a suit or a robe.
She tried not to bother herself with it, but she couldn't help but feel like he was betraying her in some way. Had he taken her in only to leave her as soon as she was settled?
"You start next week."
His certain words snapped her out of her thoughts and into a much darker state. Rachel definitely did not want to attend a rich school full of snotty kids.
"What?"
Bruce sighed and took a finishing gulp of his steaming coffee. He set it down firmly with a stern look in her direction.
"You're going to Privette Elementary starting next week. You can't be kept away forever, and it's important that you connect with other children your age. I want you to at least try."
She glared at him before sliding off the stool and making her way up the stairs to her large, empty room.
Rachel had only been at the preppy school for snobs two weeks and she had already been through four fights and six kids stupid enough to tease her. She had found a safe haven in the boughs of one of the trees that were planted in the courtyard and was spending her lunch there to avoid all the nasty looks. Just as she was about to jump down three of the girls from her grade that she hadn't bothered to learn the names of gathered under the exact spot that Rachel would have landed.
"Oh my God, I know. I can't believe Mr. Wayne did that. My mommy says it's what's called a publicity stunt, and that Rachel Grayson is a charity case."
The other girls nodded snootily like they knew exactly what she was talking about. Rachel stayed quiet in the tree, though it was growing increasingly hard not to drop down, scare the crud out of the snotty brats, and show them just what a charity case could do to their pretty faces.
"Well, my mommy says that she went on a date with Bruce Wayne, and she said that he was such a big softie."
The two girls looked at the third in horror. "Ewww. Boys are so gross. What's a date?"
They went on talking about the date, the girl whose mom had gone on one explaining what her mom told her. Rachel had no interest in that and sorely wanted to get down before the bell rang for recess to end. Her only problem was the fact that they would not move. She didn't give a crap about what they thought was behind Mr. Wayne's decision to take her in; she just wanted to get away from them and their superficial conversations. But those words had struck a very deep chord in her.
Charity case.
She wasn't just a way for Mr. Wayne to look good, was she? It might explain why he was so distant, and never really seemed to want to spend time with her. She didn't bother getting down once the bell rang and the girls left because they didn't even register over the roaring in her ears; a mixture of rage, betrayal, and utter sorrow. She couldn't believe that he would take her in and be nice to her just to make himself more popular.
Rachel didn't realize how much time was passing until two voices were heard from under her. One was easily recognized as Bruce, while the other one was unfamiliar.
"I got worried when Alfred said she didn't show up."
"I apologize, Mr. Wayne. She must have found a spot during recess. I'll talk to the teachers about-"
The strange voice stopped, and peeping out carefully, she saw that they were right under her in the shade of the tree. Bruce looked up and smiled with relief.
"I don't think that will be necessary. It was a mistake to expose her to all this so soon. I believe homeschooling in order."
The balding man followed his example and jumped slightly at the sight of her staring down at them from her perch. He looked even more surprised once the younger man's words sunk in, but seemed too stressed to retaliate or attempt to cajole him into considering a different option. He just muttered something under his breath and nodded; turning back towards the large school building with a slightly defeated shuffle. Once he was far enough away, Rachel carefully climbed down and rested her eyes everywhere but his face.
"Rachel, I know I told the principal that you were going to be homeschooled, but I can easily take that back. You have to tell me what's wrong, otherwise, I can't help you."
She finally found the courage to look up at him. "Am I a charity case? A publicity stunt?"
His eyes widened slightly before sighing and looking over towards the sleekly designed building. "Who wouldn't want charity in a world as messed up as this?"
My GOD! I updated? AGAIN? WITHOUT A TEN YEAR HIATUS?
That's it. The world's finished. It's done.
REVIEW, SAVE THE EARTH BEFORE IT IMPLODES!