Shrouding the Past

When I woke up, I was in a van that smelled of new car and had Debussy playing through the speakers. I had been buckled in and was leaning against Bruce, who was sound asleep, his head resting against the glass.

I looked outside and saw that we were passing through a wide field, the mountains surrounding us as their peaks touched the darkening sky.

"Oh, you're finally awake." A lady spoke English from the front passenger seat. She turned around to look at me, her face scrubbed pink and her light blonde hair up in a messy bun. I liked her brown eyes, crinkly with her smile. "Are you hungry? I've got some animal crackers and water."

My stomach gurgled.

The lady laughed as the driver, a man with white-blond hair and bottle thick glasses, stared forward at the road. "I think that answered my question."

"Yes, please." I hoped Father would be pleased that I remembered my manners this time.

"Your dad taught you well." The lady said, passing me a bottled water and a package of crackers. "I'm afraid this is all we have but once we get to Thimphu, we'll be able to get more."

"That's the capital of Bhutan?" I asked, thinking that I saw it somewhere on a map.

"That's right. We should be there by nightfall." The man said, his voice with an accent I had never heard before.

When I lived at the compound, I was surrounded by many languages and learned where the people were from sometimes…but this was an accent I had never heard.

It was a mystery I didn't want to think about…knowing about the larger world reminded me how small of a puzzle piece I was in it.

I cracked open the water bottle and sipped on the water.

It tasted different from the water I'd grown up drinking. Father had taught me the minerals and elements in the mountains had left a unique taste in the water.

But this water was…almost too clean. It was water though. I thought as I looked at the bottle, confused. The label on the bottle was green and labeled "Gold Springs, Bottled in Gotham" in big white letters. The label was over a picture of a mountain dotted with trees.

This water didn't come from the mountains.

The lady must've seen something on my face. "Is there something wrong with the water?" She asked, worried.

Shame reddened my cheeks. The few times I ever met Ra's in the compound, Father always reminded me to mind my manners and never, ever complain around him.

"No. It doesn't taste like the water I'm used to drinking. That's all." I said, capping the water and opening the package of animal crackers.

To my amusement, I saw that they were baked in the shape of individual animals I had seen pictures of in books.

"You're used to drinking the water in the mountains?" The man asked.

"How'd you know?" I asked, trying to not drop the crackers.

"Your clothes are the type that mountain folk wear around here." He responded.

It was then I got a better look at their clothing. I recognized them from the lacquered trunk of clothing Father kept in his room for when he had to go Out.

They were both wearing jeans with brown hiking boots along with sweaters. The man had a black sweater on, covered with patches and the fabric looked itchy. The lady had a fluffy white sweater on. Cashmere, I think the material was called.

They were different than ours.

I was wearing a large blue wool coat, sewn with black flowers, over a pair of loose trousers and Western style hiking boots. Bruce was wearing a thick black coat but I could tell from the bulk that he was wearing his ninjitsu armor underneath. His black boots were caked with mud.

"So it is." I said, picking a monkey cracker and nibbling on it. The sweet taste filled my mouth…but it wasn't the kind of sweet I was used to.

Sweet treats were rare in the compound. Sometimes, we'd have honey or even cane sugar brought up the mountains and Father would make a flaky baked good if I did well at my lessons.

He called it a Queen Aman and said it was a specialty from where he grew up.

I loved how it melted on my tongue and crinkled with salty sweetness.

The animal cracker was good. But it tasted too sweet and had something else in it.

I kept nibbling, ready to save some for Bruce for when he woke up.

The lady looked at me again, her head cocked in concern. "Your dad told us your name is Lydia?"

My eyebrows shot up. Was she referring to Bruce?

One of Father's many lessons returned. "Never let your enemies know what knowledge you have."

Except they didn't seem like enemies. Otherwise, they wouldn't have picked us up.

At least, I didn't think they would've.

She was looking at me, waiting for my answer.

"Yes, my name is Lydia." I said, then remembering seeing Father offering his hand to outside Westerners in greeting. I moved my water bottle to my lap and offered my hand "What's your name?"

The lady took my hand and shook it. Her hand was as soft and warm as her sweater. "It's nice to meet you Lydia. My name is Nora. This is my husband, Victor." She said, gesturing to the driver.

"It's nice to meet you Lydia." Victor said. "I'd shake your hand but I'm busy driving." He said, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I understand." I said, deciding to change the subject. "What brings you both to Bhutan? If I may ask?" It seemed like a safe question.

Nora let go of my hand. "We're on our way to Thimphu for Victor's new job."

A thread. I could direct the conversation away from us.

"People like talking about themselves, Lydia. Use that to your advantage" was another of Father's adages.

"Oh? What do you do?" I asked, looking at Victor's reflection in the rearview mirror.

"I'm a scientist specializing in cryogenics." Victor said, his ice blue eyes reflecting on me. I shivered. "That means I freeze stuff." His voice brusque and cutting.

"I've heard of it." I said, fearful hurt creeping into my voice. My plan might be backfiring.

Nora looked at me with sympathy and rested her hand on Victor's arm in a gentle gesture. She then looked at him with gentle admonishment. Victor's square jaw and cut nose relaxed.

"I apologize, Miss Lydia." Victor said as the harshness left his voice. "I'm not used to children."

I was so relieved that my legs shook.

"It just takes practice, Victor." Nora said, a gentle smile on her face before looking back at me. "So Lydia, tell us a bit about yourself. What are your favorite subjects in school?"

Now that was an easy conversation and my tense muscles relaxed. "Well…I like reading, geography and history."

"Those are good subjects to like!" Nora said. "I loved those subjects in school myself, but my favorite was dancing."

"Dancing?" I asked, awe creeping into my voice. I had watched videos of dancing on the battered VHS tapes Father allowed me to have. I'd try to repeat the moves but without someone watching me, it was hard to know if I was doing anything right. "What kind of dancing?"

"Oh, a little bit of everything. Mostly ballet and ballroom." Nora said before giggling a little bit. "I'm more passionate for it than actually being good."

"Don't sell yourself short, Nora." Victor said, his voice a gentle admonishment. "I think you're a beautiful dancer. When you take to the stage, the whole world falls silent and watches you dance." A smile crept across his face and his eyebrows crinkled. "I'm still amazed you decided to retire and join me."

Nora smiled back and took his right hand. The sunlight caught on the diamond of her engagement ring.

"I can still dance for you, Victor. And between us? I'd rather dance for someone I care about than millions of strangers." Nora said.

Victor smiled back. "I hope, if we have a little girl, she'll be a dancer just like you."

A feeling filled me like hot tea pouring from a pot.

One that I know I felt.

Family.

Even though he never spoke about her, I think Father cared for Mother. I wondered if he looked at her like Dr. Victor was doing to Nora.

He must've.

Did they talk about me maybe being a dancer?

My heart pricked just a little in my chest at the faint memory. I touched the little gold locket that rested over the hard pink and wrinkly skin over my chest.

Father told me it was a gift he gave my mother and that she'd want me to have it.

I looked at Bruce, still asleep next to me. He wasn't as strict as Father and he was nicer. But the thought of calling him a father didn't seem right. Like I would be betraying my father.

When we got to Gotham, would things change between us? Would he care for me as Father did?

I snuggled a little closer to him, hoping to feel…something. He moved a little but soon settled back into his corner.

I don't know what I wanted to feel.

But I do know I didn't feel it when I snuggled closer to Bruce.

It was past sundown when they reached Thimphu. Bruce tried to give Dr. Fries and Nora the little money he had left as payment for gas. However, the couple refused. They even insisted on giving Bruce and Lydia some old jeans, t-shirts and sneakers they had no use for.

After thanking them for their kindnesses and wishing them luck, Bruce found an Internet café and wrote an email to Alfred, asking for help.

It was past eleven at night when Lydia and Bruce were safely checked into the most expensive hotel in Thimphu under the false names of Dr. Thomas and Samantha Elliot.

Inside the grand suite with the large feather bed, grand view overlooking the imperial palace and hot food delivered, Bruce typed away at the laptop provided in the room.

In the bathroom, he heard Lydia soaking in the tub and washing her hair.

He was grateful that he had majored in computer sciences at Princeton and worked in the computer divisions of the League of Shadows.

Made the job of hacking into databases and preparing the necessary paperwork much easier.

Bruce would be okay on his own, seeing as Alfred would be bringing his passport for customs…but Lydia had grown up off the grid.

She needed a new identity.

The bathroom door opened and Lydia stepped out, drying her wet brown hair with an oversized towel and dressed in one of Dr. Fries' old black t-shirts. The bottom of it reached past her calves and her arms and legs stuck out of the bottom and sleeves like long sticks.

"How was your bath?" Bruce asked.

"Good." Lydia said, rubbing her hair with the towel. "What are you doing?"

"Preparing your paperwork." Bruce said. He then had an idea. "Actually…Lydia, I'm going to need your help on this."

"How?" Lydia asked. "I don't know much about computers."

"I know…but maybe you can answer some questions for me."

"What kind of questions?" Lydia asked, climbing up the bed. Bruce noticed the foot or two of space there was between her dangling feet and the floor.

He then decided a watered-down version of the truth was best. "Not many people outside the League know about its existence and there will be trouble if people learn about it. You know Ra's doesn't like outsiders much."

"Except the ones they invite in?" Lydia added.

"Exactly. But we need to have a reason why you're living with me." Bruce said. "Or at least a believable one so nobody asks too many questions."

Lydia tapped her chin. "But…isn't that lying?"

"That's where I need your help. It'll be as close to the truth as possible, both to keep our stories straight and in case someone decides to look, that's all they find."

"I don't know how much help I can be." Lydia said, scrunching her face in thought. "But I'll try."

Bruce dared to smile just a little bit. "Thank you, Lydia." He turned to the laptop and prepared the paperwork. "Do you know where your father was from?"

Lydia drew her legs close to her body and let the towel fall onto the bed. "I remember him talking about a city named Brest." She scratched her scalp in thought before raising her head, blue eyes alight in memory. "He would make me little baked goods from the city called Queen Amans. They're sweet and salty. I don't know if that helps."

"It does. Your father is from Brest, France." Bruce said, typing. "Do you know when his birthday is or how old he is?"

Lydia stretched out, Bruce heard her bones popping. "No. Father never liked talking about the past."

Bruce randomly picked the number forty-four. That seemed safest. He also picked the date July 12th. "All right, so your father is forty-four and his birthday is July 12th. He's a teacher who lived in rural Bhutan. Now what about your mother?"

The comforter rustled as Lydia pulled the t-shirt over her knees. Her eyes were distant and she played at the locket Bruce had seen her wear every day.

"Father never told me when her birthday was. Or where she was from." Lydia spoke, her voice solemn.

"Not even her name?" Bruce asked, his voice dry.

Lydia shook her head. "I don't even know what she looked like."

"You never asked?" Bruce asked.

Lydia shook her head. "I did once. He didn't talk to me for a long time after I asked."

Her mother's memory must've been poison in Ducard's veins indeed, Bruce thought as he looked at Lydia wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her head on her kneecaps. Her damp brown curls surrounded her body, drying into wavy ringlets.

"Do you…want a hug?" Bruce asked.

He hadn't hugged anyone in years. The last one he could remember was on the day of his parents' funeral, when he hugged Alfred and told him that he missed his parents so much.

The old butler returned the hug and while he cared for Bruce, Alfred remained the butler serving the master of Wayne Manor.

Lydia looked at him, tilting her head and arching an eyebrow.

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "You looked like you need one. Of course, if you don't want a hug, I'll understand."

"All right." Lydia said, stretching out her legs and crawling over to Bruce. He picked her up and held her, rubbing a finger against her back. She rested her head against his chest, looking up at him as if to ask it was okay.

Bruce nodded his consent and raised his head a little so her head would have room.

She nestled close, as if trying to hide from someone or something.

"Is something wrong?" Bruce asked.

"No…I just…don't know what to think about going to Gotham." Lydia said, not looking at him.

He saw that look once. Ducard had accused her of playing in the training room, which was off limits to her. She didn't look him in the eye when she denied it. "I know you're lying to me when you don't look me in the eye. Now tell me the truth." He said in a stern voice full of restrained anger.

Unlike Ducard, Bruce wasn't going to push. She wanted to hide because she feared something that would cause a bad reaction from him.

Right now he had to be the adult, to convince her that there were no monsters coming to hurt her.

Although he knew that was a lie.

"Your father told you Gotham was a bad place?" Bruce asked.

Lydia nodded. "He compared it to a spoiled barrel of apples. And that the whole barrel had to be thrown out to keep the rest of the harvest from spoiling too."

Bruce repressed the shudder, grateful he had escaped when he did.

"Are there bad people in Gotham? Yes. But there's a lot more good people than bad." Bruce said.

"Then why don't the good people stop the bad ones?" Lydia asked.

"A lot of reasons. Most of the time, they're scared of getting hurt." Bruce said. "So they hide."

Lydia nodded, fiddling with the locket. "Like what we're doing?"

"Yeah…something like that." Bruce said, resolution filling him like a healing balm.

Gotham was a big place to protect.

But he could start with her.

Lydia would be safe with him.

It was a start. "One bite at a time" as his mother would say.

"Lydia…I'll come up with other things for your mother so I'll tell you later. But can you answer two more for me?" Bruce asked. Lydia nodded. "Do you know how old you are?"

Lydia thought for a minute, still playing with her locket. "I remember last winter, Ra's summoned me to his quarters for butter tea and he commented that I was two when Father brought me and how that was seven years ago. So that must mean I'm nine."

Bruce nodded, the first concrete answer he had since starting. "That will make this part much easier. Do you know when your birthday is?"

Lydia shook her head again.

"Do you have a favorite date that you want to use as your birthday?" Bruce asked.

Lydia again shook her head. "I mean, it would be good to pick a date we can both remember." She said.

A date came to mind. "How about mine? My birthday is on October 30th."

"October 30th…I like that." Lydia said. "That is…if you're okay sharing it."

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to." Bruce said, typing in the information as Lydia hid a yawn. Bruce checked the clock. It was close to midnight. "You sleepy?"

"Uh-huh." Lydia said, suppressing another yawn.

"It's late. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"But don't you have any more questions?" Lydia asked, drifting off.

"Not now." Bruce said, picking her up and carrying her to bed. "We'll take care of it in the morning." He pulled back the covers with one hand and slid her under them.

Lydia was asleep by the time Bruce tucked the covers around her. He'd stay up, take the only watch, just in case.

By dawn…they'd be ready to start their new lives.