Sorry that this chapter is so short, but I didn't want to combine this and the next one together, because it would have turned out to be over 5000 words. The good news is I had a flash of inspiration and finished the next three chapters in two days! Look for Chapters 22, 23, and 24 to be published within the next month.
After those are out of the way, Part 3 of the story will begin at Chapter 30. I know there's not much action in the fic as a rule, but I've already planned out the sequel and believe me, that story is explosive in every sense of the word!
On a different note, I've also gone back and added dates to every "time skip", so the reader has a better perspective of the timeline. For example, Jack was born in January 1980 and Jeannie was born in May 1980, so given that they're both eighteen at the current point in time this chapter takes place during September 1998. Make sense?
It was already being regarded as the saddest day in Gotham's history. For the past week, civilians had been downtrodden and glum as they tried to go about their daily lives. Some would even say that there was a tangible atmospheric change hovering over the city.
Now, a week after the tragedy, mourners were taking to the streets in droves. People from as far as Metropolis and Blüdhaven were filling up the sidewalks and nearby buildings, holding their breath and craning their necks to see if they could catch a glimpse of the funeral procession.
It had been exactly seven days since Thomas and Martha Wayne had been killed, a week since Gotham's prized prince became an orphan. A steady stream of presents and gifts were being stacked a mile high outside of Wayne Manor every day. In fact, there were so many of them that the Waynes' butler had had to hire a team of workers to bring them all inside.
It was a cloudy, gloomy day, and the absence of sun in addition to the already melancholy atmosphere made everything worse. Even though there had to be at least a million people crowding Main Street, everyone was hushed and silent.
In a small grocery store two blocks away, eight-year-old Jack Napier stepped outside into the gathered crowd, struggling to balance the food that was tucked under his arm. The few coins he had scraped from under his bed barely amounted to a fruit and a piece of bread. He would have to be very careful how much he ate for the next couple of days.
Jack kept his head down as he wove through the crowd, letting his long unkempt curls hide his face. He didn't like talking to strangers—they would always stare at his scars instead of listening to what he was saying. Some would give him looks of pity, but most would snicker behind his back and make fun of him. He already knew the other students would gossip about him behind his back at school, and he never had a partner for anything. At recess he would sit under a tree and read one of the books the teacher had lent him.
Jack kept his eyes on the ground as he moved down the sidewalk. To his right, a thick yellow rope blocked the crowd from trickling out onto the road. Without even thinking about it, he hopped over the barrier and continued on down the street, relieved he was free from the suffocating expanse of bodies. He didn't like being close to people. It wasn't just because they stared at his scars; something inside of him always recoiled whenever he was within two feet of another person. In his mind, strangers were out to get him and he was suspicious of the friendly ones. They were probably trying to get on his good side before they beat him up.
"Hey! What are you doing?" a shrill voice called from behind him. In spite of himself, Jack looked up to see a girl running towards him. She looked around his age, maybe eight or nine, and her brown hair was tied up into two neat pigtails.
Jack shrugged, but didn't say a word. He wouldn't talk to anyone unless he had to.
The girl stopped in front of him and narrowed her eyes. Her nametag read "Rachel Dawes". She looked angry, but Jack wasn't scared of her. His father said that if a girl ever talked back to him, he was supposed to hit them until they started to cry. Jack had never done that before, but he supposed if things came down to it he would have to hurt her. Maybe not hard enough to send her to the hospital, but a light kick or punch. Girls were weak anyway. They cried at the smallest things. Jack hadn't cried since he was five years old.
"You're not supposed to be on the road!" she said angrily. "There was a rope for a reason!"
Jack continued staring at her. Although his expression didn't betray it, he thought it was funny that she was so angry. Who cared whether he was on the road or not?
"Do you understand me?" the girl complained when he didn't reply. "The funeral procession is going to come this way soon!"
He didn't respond, but continued studying her. Whenever his father saw a woman, he always said he wanted to fuck her. Jack wasn't entirely clear on what "fucking" someone meant, but it seemed to involve a lot of moaning and taking clothes off. Was he supposed to want to fuck this girl? He didn't want to take his clothes off in front of her, that was for sure.
Meanwhile, she was still glaring at him. "Go away," she said more forcefully. "Can you even talk?"
He nodded and grinned at her. This only seemed to make her angrier. She stuck her lower lip out and looked as if she was about to stomp her foot. "They'll be coming around the corner any minute. You'd better hurry."
In the distance, Jack heard the clip-clopping of horses' hooves and knew that she was right. He wondered if she was a friend of that rich boy, Bruce Wayne. He didn't know why the orphan was being given so much attention. He didn't seem very special in Jack's eyes. Lots of children became orphans every day and there was never a funeral procession for their parents.
Reluctantly, he crossed the road and as he got to the curb, the apple dropped from his grasp and rolled back to the girl. Still scowling, she scooped it up and lobbed it as hard as she could at his head. It hit the back of his skull with a loud crack, but he didn't make a noise. He was used to pain.
Jack felt a surge of anger shoot through him and he whirled around to actually hit her this time, but she was running off down the street, probably to tattle on him. Oh well. They would never find him.
Rachel Dawes. He made careful note of her name, storing it in the back of his memory.
He would get her back someday. He was sure of it.
Jack Napier never broke his promises.
Two Months Later
September 1998
The early-autumn leaves crunched loudly under Jeannie's feet as she made her way up to the Nashtons' house. Today was the first day of university and she was now the designated chauffeur for Emily, who had made a last-minute decision to stay in Gotham and take care of her brother rather than move to Washington.
Jeannie was secretly glad she changed her mind, even if it was a selfish pleasure: Emily would be the only other person she knew at the university. Most of her friends had left the city for "bigger and better things", though in many people's minds anywhere was better than Gotham. Even though she liked the place very much, Jeannie could see their point.
Apollo leapt at her the second the front door opened, but unlike the first time Jeannie visited she was ready for it and had just enough time to brace herself against the doorframe. A frazzled Emily shooed the dog back inside and shut the door behind her. "Let's go," she said, trying to smile confidently.
"How are you doing?" Jeannie asked quietly. It had been a long, difficult summer for the Nashtons. Edward was still in Arkham and he didn't seem to be doing any better. In fact, he'd tried to attack Mr. Nashton during the last visit and apparently did nothing more than sit in the corner of his cell muttering to himself. Even the staff were at a loss as to what do with him. Emily tried to pretend it wasn't a big deal, but her actions told Jeannie otherwise. The entire family was at their breaking point.
"I'm fine," Emily said automatically as they got into Jeannie's car. "Honestly. Listen," she began when she saw her friend's doubtful look, "I'm more nervous about university than anything else. I'm gonna be screwed."
"No, you won't," Jeannie said as they pulled out into the flow of traffic. "Everyone says it's not as hard as it sounds."
"That's easy for you to say, because you're taking History," Emily half-teased. "I'm taking Biology. The other students say it's a killer."
"Then why'd you take it?" retorted Jeannie. She intended it as a light-hearted question, but Emily's face fell.
"I guess—Mom and Dad wanted Edward to be a biologist but that's obviously not going to happen, so I figured…I should…" she trailed off, looking anywhere but at Jeannie.
Someone else might have happily crowed, "I knew it! You're not fine!" but Jeannie couldn't bring herself to be triumphant. She kept her eyes fixed on the car in front of them, knowing that Emily needed time to explain.
"I—I haven't seen him in a week and I'm really nervous," her best friend confessed, still not looking at her. "I promised I would visit him tonight, but I don't know what to expect."
"I'll go with you," Jeannie said without thinking. "I mean, if you want me to, that is."
There was a hint of hope in Emily's voice as she replied, "You would? Oh, Jeannie, that would be such a relief, but it's Arkham, you know…it's not the sort of place you want to spend your free time."
"I can do it," Jeannie replied firmly. "After all, if I'm going to become a teacher, I need to learn how to deal with the mentally ill, right?"
Her feeble joke didn't amuse Emily, who stayed stoic. "Maybe you could ask your mother if she has any suggestions on how to calm him down. Anything is worth a try at this point."
Jeannie shook her head slowly. "It would only be the standard stuff. Be gentle, speak softly, act like you understand him…Em, if the doctors knew how to cure him, they would have already."
"But what if he's in there for the rest of his life?" Emily whispered, her uneven voice shattering all illusions of composure.
Jeannie had no answer to that. She knew all she could offer her friend was comfort and a shoulder to lean on. Once someone was sent to Arkham, the rumors went, they never came out.
Gotham University was a large, sprawling campus conveniently located between Nothing and Nowhere In Particular—that was to say, it was many miles from the city itself. After a twenty-minute drive past the city limits, Jeannie was beginning to worry they'd end up in Canada. She'd been to the university before, of course, but she hadn't remembered the drive as being this long.
Just as they rounded a corner and a tall stone building came into sight, her phone beeped. As soon as Jeannie saw the text, she gasped. "Emily, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot I had a date tonight."
"That's fine," Emily assured her. "I'll go alone then. Don't worry about it—"
In another spur-of-the-moment decision, Jeannie blurted, "Can he come too?"
The youngest Nashton looked surprised. "If he wants…but wouldn't he rather be with you instead?"
"He'll be with me," argued Jeannie. "Who knows, maybe he'll be the one to talk some sense into Edward." She pulled up in front of a building marked Science Department and waved to Emily. "Meet you here at the end of the day, then?"
Her friend nodded and gave her a quick hug before jumping out of the car. "Thanks, Jeannie!"
"No problem." Jeannie waited until she had disappeared inside before retrieving her map of the university so she could locate the Humanities department. Of course, it was on the other side of the campus. Jeannie pulled into the nearest parking spot and grabbed her phone.
Jack 8:45 am: So where are we going tonight?
Jeannie 8:52 am: Arkham.
Jack 8:53 am: What a wonderful idea. I can't believe I didn't think of that before.
Jeannie 8:55 am: Ha ha. We're visiting Edward.
Jack 8:57 am: A double date, then?
Jeannie 8:59 am: NO! God, you're so annoying sometimes. I'll meet you in front of your apartment at 5, all right?
Without waiting for a response, she stuffed her phone back into her bag and climbed out of the car, pretending to be nervous about university but really worrying about how things would turn out that night.