SEVEN AM

She was out of bed at blessed seven am on a Sunday morning, almost regretting not sleeping in. Walter's call had woken her.

The phone conversation consisted of her almost becoming annoyed with him. "Walter, what gives?"

People get up earlier and are far more chipper in the morning and Walter was no exception. "Ma'am, it's Sunday."

"I am well aware of that, but it's seven! Who in their right mind calls so early? Why are you calling anyway?"

"You told me to. It's Sunday." His voice crackled over the other line. He didn't believe in smartphones.

"I what? That's... I did. Okay. I'm awake. Thank you for being so faithful, Walter."

"Of course. I will be there in forty minutes."

That was how Olena found herself sitting the back of a car, barely awake. She roused herself when the tires rolled to a stop. Her driver said nothing when she opened her door and got out. She slipped her hands deep into black London Fog coat and walked up the cement steps. She tanned her head back to spy out the one tall steeple. It was with light fingers she touched the worn wood of the door before pushing it open.

It barely made a sound when she slipped through. A few elderly people stood off to the side, catching up on old times no doubt. They hardly noticed Olena as walked down the short hallway to the right. She hung a left and ducked under a chain that leads to some steps. She entered the balcony area with a familiar ease.

This was her parent's place. They met here; they married here, and they both were granted their dying wish of having their funerals here. The padded pews below were bound to fill with people in thirty minutes, but Olena wasn't interested in staying.

"Back again, eh?"

To her right was a woman who sat in a pew, clothes matching her seat. The woman's name was Hilde, the caretaker of the building.

Olena faced forward again and stared at a stained glass window. The sun was just beginning to hit it. "I know they aren't here, but I feel closer to them somehow when I visit."

The elder woman laughed. "Dear, that's what we crazy old people call Moments. Memories that are only felt."

"That's," Olena paused, "not what I thought you were going to say."

"Hm, they ask about you, you know. I told them that I had seen you- that you duck in and out of here every week. We aren't upset or anything like that. We just want to make sure you are well taken care of."

Olena swallowed, thinking of how drastically her world had changed in the past month. "Hilde, is it ever alright to kill someone?"

The pew squeaked in protest when the woman turned. Olena leaned her weight on her other foot, wishing she could have taken that back. She tried to backpedal. "Sorry, I shouldn't be bringing that up-" Not here.

"Oh, don't give me that! Of course, you should. You know I treat you like my own daughter."

Olena smiled sadly down to herself. Hilde cleared her throat. "Is it ever alright to murder? No. Never. Is it ever alright to kill someone in defense? That's... That's between you and the One who made you."

Olena shifted uncomfortably. "How did I know you would say that?"

"Because you came here to ask the question. That being said, don't take my word for it. Find out the truth for yourself. Search for it and tell me what you find."

Olena nods with arms crossed in an attempt to hug herself. She took in the various colors of glass; the red shades stood out the most.

"I will."


Thunder rolled in the distance. An unwelcome reminder of how it was Fall and winter was right around the corner. Gotham was humid all year round, but it made more of an effort to rain in the colder months.

Olena pulled up her hood, dialing Wagner. She told him to meet her at her favorite cafe, the very same one she frequents most days.

Bark's Cafe was like a home away from home. This was the place her father took her after her high school graduation. She knew this place so well that she could name most of Bark's staff.

There was a soft twinkling of bells when Olena entered her cafe. She might as well wait for Walter here, warm caffeine in hand.

"Hello, Olena. The usual?"

Olena tore her gaze from the menu, though she had the whole thing memorized. She smiled at the man behind the counter. "Hi there, Matthew. Nah, just the coffee today."

He scribbled her order down, nodding once. "I'll warm up the French press."

"Thanks. By the way, did you change your shift? I didn't see you yesterday."

"I was here, just had to help out in the back. We are a little short staffed right now."

"I see. I hope you guys get some help soon then." She smiled at no one in general and took a seat at her booth. On the far wall of the shop was five small pictures of famous people in Gotham. She couldn't name the others but she knew at least one.

Pulling out her phone, Olena pulled up Google and searched Bruce Wayne. She clicked on a few links, all of which were news articles. There was even one with a picture of her back at the charity gala. "A mysterious woman spilled her drink all over Bruce Wayne, the host and main benefactor for Community Kid. Oh, snapdragons. Is that the back of my head?" Olena's nose wrinkled at the sight of the poorly taken photo on the website. It was a sight obviously captured by the quick use of a smartphone.

Why can't people mind their own business instead of exploiting innocent, albeit a little clumsy, human beings?

People always tried to make something out of nothing. It was like the dad scandal all over again. Her father had been accused of cheating on his wife with his new secretary. People had started to gossip and write stories, questioning if Olena's mother was her mom. She did not resemble her mother much, but that doesn't mean she was an illegitimate child. And even if she were, people shouldn't be making a big deal out of it.

"Pointless, it's all pointless." Olena could feel a gaze burning the side of her face. She turned her head to see Matt standing near her table. His considering gaze made her slightly uncomfortable. "How long have you been standing there?"

He sat the coffee down. "Long enough to know you like to talk to yourself."

Olena chuckled and picked up the mug. "More than you know." She took a sip, but immediately spat it back out.

Matthew crossed his arms and hung his head. He held out his hand for the cup. "New guy. Here, I'll personally make the next one."

She wiped her mouth with a nearby napkin as she passed the cup back. "I was about to question your coffee making abilities."

The brunette simply shook his head before he made his way back to the counter. Olena watched as Matt spoke to someone she didn't recognize. It was a short teenager with blond hair. She could name all the other employees, including the cook, but this boy had no name in her mind.

She looked back at her phone and swiped the second and the third pages of Google. A link had conspiracy written in all uppercase letters caught her gaze. In summary, it said something about Bruce Wayne having a son. Now that was interesting because to her knowledge there have only been to one child in Bruce Wayne's life and that was Ward. She clicked on the link.

There was a clatter in the kitchen that made Olena jump, but she settled again soon after and pretended not to notice. She's just time to scroll down a long article. Dates and times dotted the writing. Blurry pictures were taken and she was halfway through the post when she began to gather the idea of the article.
The first child that was taken in the Wayne Manor was a boy named Richard Grayson, his parents died by the hand of the Joker. He was then later adopted and grew up. He moved away, but shortly after another kid named Jason Todd was taken in after his parents died. Some time after he was adopted, he died. Another child was then taken in after the death of his parents and adopted. That child was Timothy Drake, the current Ward.

The author went on to speak about how a pattern seemed to be forming around Bruce Wayne, but that pattern was now believed to be broken. There was a blurry picture of a young child on the Manor grounds. The author of this article argued that another child has been taken into the Wayne Manor.

"This is so weird." Olena continued reading.

'...and although Mr. Wayne has shown the world over that he is for charity, one cannot overlook how all these young but similar boys end up in his home.'

The article ended with an updated list of known dirty cops and detectives in Gotham, trying to prove that we all can mistake what is good in the world. Scanning the list, she was relieved to see that Gordon's name wasn't there.

Olena shoved blonde hair away from her eyes when she looked up, staring at the framed picture. I wonder what happened to Jason.

A cup landed on her table, causing the young woman to leap. Matthew apologized for the wait and turned quickly to get back to work.

"Matt, wait a sec." He came back with raised eyebrows, eyes going between her and her newly made coffee. She waved her hand. "I'm sure it's fine. What I want to ask is... how should I put this? Do you trust the police?"

He stared at her with an expression that could pass as shocked, incredulous, and blank. All of which were uncomfortable and had her tripping over herself to say more.
"What I mean to say is- can they protect us? Not all of them are good, but surely the majority is, right? And we should do everything in our power to help them, right? Am I... am I making any sense?"

Matthew took a breath and grabbed the back of his neck. "I'm going to admit I don't like cops, never have. That's not to say that they don't help, but it has been my experience that cops are the cleanup crew. Rarely do they ever get there in time to make a difference."

Her phone rang, crying for her attention. "Thanks," she pulled out her phone and hit the green button. She sensed Matt leaving her side as she looked out the window, phone to ear. "Are you here?"

"I can be if you want me to."

"What do you want?" Placing her money on the table, Olena got herself out of the Bark's. She huddled near the brick wall and watched the rain fall.

"The boss isn't too happy that you left so quickly the other night. Seemed in a bit of a hurry."

"Who is he?"

"He wanted me to tell you that you both will meet very soon, preferably over tea. Oh, and he also said to bring your bank account number."

Olena gritted her teeth and rubbed her eyes. This was not going to end well. "Am I allowed to bring my own bodyguards?"

"Make sure they are expendable."

The line went dead.

A few minutes later Wagner pulled up, and Olena ran for the black car. She asked him to take her home as she pulled out her phone again. She typed out a quick message to Captain Obvious.

They called. A meet will be soon. Said I can bring bodyguards.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

Good.

Delete this conversation.


Author's Note: Happy Near Year!