Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt: You want more -here it is! And how are you doing?
Black target: Plot development coming right up.
KaliAnn : I hope you get a kick out of the end.
Alaster Boneman : Thank you, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
chapter 10
Budapest, Hungary
September 1, 1939
"Okay Veréb," Rikárd said lightly, pointing at a passing tram as they leaned out the window. "What that?"
Soren chew his lip for a moment as he searched his brain for the answer. He knew it, he knew it. It was on the tip of his...and then he had it.
"Villamos," he announce with a grin.
Rikárd grinned back. "Good...and what's that?" He pointed to the old tree that grew on the street corner. That one Elijah could shoot out right away. "Fa."
"And what's that?"
Here the target of his finger was a snobblish-looking woman of questionable proportions.
Soren smirked. "Kövér...fat."
Rudzik howled with laughter, and nearly fell off the window seat. "Th-that's not what I had in mind," the boy said between gasps, his eyes watering with mirth. "But it's right all the same!"
Soren beamed and was about to reply...when the door was flung open with a furious bang; Janos and Raya flying inside like the devil was at their heels. The looks on their faces' killed their fun.
As if somebody had flipped a switch, Rikárd sat up, instantly growing alert and became serious. "What's-"
"Rudzik, be quiet," Soraya commanded as Janos turned on the radio with shaking hands...Jan's hands never shook. Soren felt ice gather in his gut. "What's going on?" he asked in a small voice.
Jan glared at him out of the corner of his eye, and Elijah could feel himself being evaluated, so he raised his chin and tried to stand taller. It must have work, because the older boy finally gave him an answer.
"Germany's invaded Poland."
Soren's mind glitched. Invade...invaded Poland? No...no it couldn't be...Hitler already had Austria and the Sudetenland...what more could he need?
"They couldn't have," Rikárd said, eyes wide.
Jan laughed bitterly. "Oh yes they can. They did. It's war."
By this time, he had gotten their old radio to work, and the wheezing voice that spilled from it so confirmed what Jan had said. England and France had declared war on Germany. It was war.
"...Holy shit."
"We're so lucky we came to Hungary when we did," Raya whispered. "It would be to late now..."
Elijah didn't hear her. He didn't hear anything. All he knew was that the door to any early reunion with his parents had been forever shut.
"I think...I think this was the first priority of this trip -to make sure you were all right, and that Mr. Wayne was treating you well...and if he wasn't...to offer you a home that would."
That single sentence ran on loop inside Dick's mind, long after he and Esther left the study. He hadn't even gotten a chance to response, or even think a response, before Alfred was suddenly standing in the doorway to inform them that breakfast was ready, and it would be prudent of them to make their way to the kitchen. Their guardians would be joining them shortly. So they did, leaving Esther's revelation hanging in the air between them as the trudged down the hallway -the boy could almost feel it's fingers griping his shoulder.
...They always ate breakfast in the kitchen, for some reason. Probably because it was less formal for an early meal -Dick had often found himself wishing that they could eat every meal with such informality...but he knew that Alfred would never go for it, and that it was a pipe dream.
So was it really a surprise that the morning meal was his favorite meal of the day? No fancy dinning hall, no overly neat school cafeteria that looked to nice for a kid to even think about a food fight...even you were even allowed the privilege of having a seat.
Dick let out a sigh, and ran his hand threw his hair again. No, breakfast was the best by a long shot -sitting on a stool in from of the counter, munching on a bagel, or the absolute best blueberry pancakes, with Bruce sitting besides him calmly sipping his coffee, often looking more relaxed than at any other time. Almost to the point where his guardian actually seemed...happy. And content.
Eating breakfast in the kitchen was the one time of the day Dick could honestly forget rest of the world, and pretend that he, Bruce, and Alfred were another normal household -a normal family. A normal home.
Home. And just like that, the boy's mind was back where it's started. And as he hopped on top his stool, his balled-up fists pressed against his pants until his knuckles were white. Reaching out, he snatched a cup of orange juice and passed it to Esther before he gripped his own with a thinly masked fervor.
They had wanted to give him a home.
Not gonna lie...he was...touched. Really he was. Just the thought of it brought a warmth to his chest, not unlike the wild burst of hope and self-worth that flooded his eight year old self, back when Bruce sprung him from juvie. To a kid, nothing mattered more than knowing that someone valued you, wanted you. And the idea that a friendship from seventy years ago could inspired such inter-generational loyalty was...awe inspiring.
Dick didn't often feel his height...but learning this sure made him feel it now.
And...well...in the early days after Bruce had brought him to the maner...Dick had spent entire nights wondering what would have become of him, if Bruce hadn't found it in his heart to take him in. He had been haunted by the thought -more so than the boy cared to admit, even to himself. And while he didn't think about much...sometimes you just couldn't help it, or help the ice that would build up in your gut, at realizing just how well and truly screwed you would have been, if fate had played differently.
The knowledge that there would have been a second party, a second chance -even one a few years down the line- went a long way to helping break the ice down.
(Of cooouurse though, Dick had to admit he really didn't like thinking about how much of him would've still been there, if he had been force to wait for the Goldsons. But he digess).
Breakfast was nonpareil, as usual. And due to the presents of guests, Alfie had really rolled out all the stops. Eggs and bacon cooked to perfection, bagels smeared with just a dash of butter to make it melt seamlessly on the golden brown surface -it was all Dick could do not to just scoop on of it onto his plate (which was probably why Bruce would often dryly remarked that it was a wonder he was still so skinny, but hey, running over roof-tops every night would do that to you.)
But he restrained himself. As the guests, it was only fit that Esther and Elijah (who by this point had arrived with Bruce) got first dips. And not gonna lie...it was pretty darn funny to watch their eyes grow three times larger when they took their first bite. (Had he looked like that when he first arrived?)
"Goot Got!" the elderly man had exclaimed, his eyes dancing like a child's. "I think I've have die and gone to Himmel."
"Then I've die with you Saba,"Eshter muttered around a mouthful of egg. "This is perfect."
"'Course it is," Dick grinned. "Alfie here wouldn't settle for making anything else, would ya Alfie?"
"Yes, but it is not a matter of pride Master Dick-" At that Bruce snorted into his coffee mug, which he quickly tried to turn into a chough as the Butler leveled him with a look that was for all intends and purposes the prototype Batglare. Alfred wasn't fooled for a second, but was willing -for the shake of decorum- to let the matter drop...for now. "It is simply a matter of standards. It would hardly be advisable for a host to serve uneatable food now would it?"
"Alfred, you wouldn't know the meaning of uneatable food if it bit you," Dick laughed.
"And I intend to keep it that way..." the Englishman replied steady from behind the counter, wiping his hands with a towel. Pausing, he then added, "And speaking of uneatable food... Mr. West called the house last night. Apparently you had told him you would contact him on your cell-phone, and he was concerned when you failed to do so."
Dick's eyes immediately grew to twice their normal size. "Ah man!" he exclaimed, clasping a hand to his head. "I totally forgot!"
On reflex, the boy stated to fish around his pocket, intending to pull out his phone and check it for the hundred-some massages he was sure was there. But before he could fully do so, Alfred pointedly cleared his throat, looking down his nose at the action as if it had mortally offended him. "Master Dick, I think that activity would best be left for the car ride to school, wouldn't you agree?"
It might have been phrased as a question, but the tone left little doubt that it was anything but.
Dick shoved the device back in his pocket as if it had set his hand on fire, causing Esther to giggle, Bruce to smirk, and Goldson to chuckled heartily. "Oh yes..." he sigh. "Just like Mrs. Dorn..."
Still laughing, the old man reached out with his utensils -fork held in his left hand and knife in his right, European style- to swipe another bagel from the plate, causing the sleeve of his jacket to ride up, and a very prominent tattoo to be reveled on his arm - Z-9268- the crude blue ink shinning faintly in the light of their kitchen. And you have to be crazy to think that wouldn't put a damper on things. All their laughter die away.
He shouldn't stare -Dick knew he shouldn't...but he couldn't help it, and the training that Batman had given him on how to read into tattoos only made it worse. The numbers were sloppy, uneven and jagged -indicating that whomever did it had done it quickly, without much regard. The first few were also a little blurrier than the last...which told the boy that Elijah had probably flinched away at first before settling down. Or being held down.
And on a personal note...Dick's mind flashed back to his Grandfather, and his tattoo. Z-9267. One number below his friend...meaning that they had gotten them at the same time, one after the other.
Dick couldn't decide if the thought was comforting or horrible.
Thankfully, Elijah Goldson was more than capable of choosing for him. Without looking the least bit dramatic, the old man calming rolled his sleeve back a bit more, so they could have a better view. "You know," Goldson informed them steadily, as if he was only asking them to pass the salt. "There is more to this tattoo that you would think."
They all looked up at that. "More?" Dick asked, unable to keep the faint hint of disbelief from his tone. What more could there possible be to a tattoo that was meant to steal your humanity?
Goldson nodded sagely. "Yes zun, more. Much more...we made a sort of...game of it, if you would."
"A game?" That was from Bruce.
Elijah nodded once, slowly, his head doing a careful bob up and down like a fishing poll floater. "Yes..." he replied, his tone distant. "Me and Rikárd...we would give our numbers meaning -make it into a kind of code, if you would. Something unique only to us. For example, look here-"
Tapping his pointer finger on the Z of his tattoo, he began to explain. "This stood for Zigeuner to the Germans...Gypsy. But we made it to zaftig...meaning well-figured woman."
Esther sighed, and Dick bite back a snort.
"...Any particular reason you chose that?" Bruce inquired after a moment.
Elijah arched an eyebrow. "You mean besides the obvious?"
The billionaire's lips twitched. "Good point," he allowed.
Winking an eye, Goldson continued, moving his figure down the line in a steady manner. "Next is the 9...which in German is pronounced no...as in no-I-will-not-die, not here not now...2...for the twin lives I had lived before the war...6 for six people who I had to stay alive with...and 8 for good luck."
It was only when he came to the end of the numbers did Goldson pause.
"...You see...survival is not only physical...it is mental. What use is there in have your body survive, if your mind is not with it? Playing our game kept us sharp...and we got so good at it that people would ask us to make their numbers mean something as well. And God knows it felt good. Like we were fight back."
After breakfast was over, and the dishes cleared away, Goldson approached Bruce as the younger man picked up his briefcase while his ward sweep his backpack onto his shoulder with ease.
"Mr. Wayne, I don't mean to be a bother, but you wouldn't happen to know the general direction of the town of Newmen would you?"
Startled, Bruce straightening. "Yes I do. It's a suburb outside of Bludhaven. Why?"
Goldson shrugged as he rose to his feet, placing a baseball cap on his head. "I have an old friend who lives there with his family, I think it would be good to drop him a line."
"An..." Dick said hesitantly, though his eyes were urgent. "An old friend from...before?"
Bruce threw him a warning glace. "Dick..."
"No, no," Goldson reassured him. "It is fine...and yes, he is an old friend from before. So it would be a downright crime not to visit him."
"Do you need transportation?" Bruce asked at once. "I could arranged for Alfred to take you there and back. Do you have an address?"
"Nein, nein Mr. Wayne, that won't be needed at all. Esther can call for a cab-"
Alfred cleared his throat at that. "Yes, but Master Elijah, I feel obliged to inform you that Gotham's cab system...leaves little to be desire."
Which was Alfred-speak for "cab drivers in this city love to cheat old people and out-of-towners."
"It would be a privilege to accompany you to your friend's."
After some consideration, Elijah agreed. And as they all headed for the door, Dick suddenly remembered to ask if it would be alright if he brought one of the pictures to school with him.
"Zun," Elijah had answered. "From the moment I gave them to you, they became yours to do with as you please."
So that was how Dick came to be seated in the back of a Rolls Royce, the group picture of Elijah with his relatives in one hand, and his cell in another.
7:10 To Wall-man: Heh u there?
7:10 From Wall-man: DUDDDE been trying 2 reach u foreverrrrrr!
7:10 To Wall-man: I know I know sorry. But something big came up.
7:11 From Wall-man: more important than your best friend?
7:11 To Wall-man: hit the nail on the head
7:11 From Wall-man: if it's anything less than inter-denemtional incident I'm not buying it
7:11 To Wall-man: inter-DIMESNIONAL west and a family member showed up at my school yesterday
7:11 From Wall-man: family member?1?! WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAAAAAAAAATTTTTT?!1
7:11 From Wall-man: WHATWHATWHATWHATWHATWHAT
7:11 From Wall-man: WHATWHATWHATWHAT come on man you can't not reply 2 that WHATWHATWHAT
7:12 To Wall-man: not all of us can type a thousand words per min Wally...
7:12 From Wall-man: Right. Sorry...so WHAT?! U always said u didn't have any family another than your folks
7:12 To Wall-man: I didn't think I did ether. Come over after school 2day and I tell u everything.
7:12 From Wall-man: ah come on u cant just leave me hanging!
7:12 From Wall-man: Dick u there?
7:13 From Wall-man: oh u did NOT just hang up on me
7:13 From Wall-man: Dick?
7:13 From Wall-man: ...Jerk...
Review make me happy so if you want more, tell me what you think and I'll update sooner.
Poor Wally, best friends with a troll. So yeah, he's going to pop back into the story, help Dick sort somethings out, and probably chase after Esther a little -poor girl.
What did you think of the beginning, where Dick is thinking over the Goldson's would be offer, and why he loves breakfast so much?