"Go to sleep," Bruce said, smiling as he poked his head into my room.
I'd been dragged back to the Wayne Manor by Gordon not a full five minutes after my father showed up. Of course, I'd kicked, screamed, and complained the entire time. I'd refused dinner, and sulked up to my room without a word to anyone.
"Get some rest. We'll figure everything out tomorrow. I'm sure there'll be good news." He turned out the light. He was playing the father role quite well, for never doing it before. "Good night, Crystal." Through sorrow-filled eyes, Bruce looked at me for a moment before shutting the door.
A small voice inside of my head told me that I should do as Father said. Stay here. Get some rest. I needed it, after all. A chorus of angry voices then silenced the other, reminding me that Jack was missing, and that Bruce had no intention of letting me see him, if he were alive or not. I threw back the covers, feeling defiance wash over me. Forget Bruce. I wasn't a child. He couldn't step in and tell me what I could and could not do, even if he was my father.
Luckily, the house was dark and both Bruce and Alfred were sleeping. I crept down the grand staircase into the den. Bruce's jacket was flopped across the chair. Quickly rummaging through the pockets, I found what I was looking for: keys. I snatched them up and quickly but silently made my way to the garage.
The police tape was the only thing keeping me from the disaster site. I easily tore through it and looked around. A few small piles of rubble were still smoldering, but other than that, everything had died down. An eerie feeling hung in the air. The tall buildings that usually stood here were gone. It felt too open. All of the volunteers and emergency workers had gone home for the night. There wasn't anything left for them to do here. Everything smelled like fire. I crept carefully over broken bricks and shattered glass.
"Hello," I quietly called. "Hello?" Perhaps this hadn't been a good idea. Perhaps I was being stupid. I hadn't even called the hospital. Jack was probably there, wondering why I hadn't come by yet.
A small pile of bricks crumbled behind me. I jumped and nearly screamed. When I spun around, I found a mangy dog standing atop the bricks. He wagged his tail innocently. His eyes were big and brown, and friendly.
"Shoo, go home," I hissed.
The dog stared at me for a moment, then cocked its head to the side and made a curious noise.
"Well, go on, go home!"
The dog took a few steps back, its mouth closed attentively.
"That's it, pup, go on, go home."
The dog sat down, staring at me all the while. He suddenly cocked his head to the side again, and made another of those curious dog noises.
"What's the matter? Go home!" I said, spooked by the darn animal.
Now I saw why the dog had been staring. A pair of hands caught me around the waist and pulled me backwards until I felt myself being held against a body. I felt hot breath on my neck, and heard the dog whimper and run away.
"You aren't supposed to be here," a man's voice came.
A wave of chills ran down my spine at the familiar voice.