Hello! So I totally messed up and had Friday's name in this instead of Jarvis. It's fixed now and doesn't change anything but Jarvis is now back to himself! Thank you to Archangel writings for pointing it out. Hope you like the chapter.
Stomach protruding from a large breakfast complete with the cinnamon rolls she made earlier, Penny sat back in her spot.
She wondered how she would ever be able to go back to Midtown after all this food. Penny was waiting for the amount and quality of food being served to become normal. The spare cinnamon bun wrapped in a napkin for later in her lap, spoke otherwise. She couldn't let herself get used to this. There was no point to it. Penny knew nothing could change her looming return. She grimaced to herself. She would not be weak and get used to such niceties.
Ms. Potts went through their itinerary for the day. She assumed, at first, this would take no time but the woman was only on the second item of the list and it had been more than ten minutes. Penny, who was used to testing her patience with Mrs. Delores, fidgeted in her seat. Her mind wandered in place of her legs and soon the day was underway.
Their day unfolded in an extraordinary fashion, though Penny so turned upside-down, didn't have the wherewithal to appreciate it. The seamstress flitted about her, all poking and measuring every limb to the inch. Bolt after bolt of new material was paraded about and inspected for upmost quality. The dark gem toned navy was 'on trend', as Ms. Potts put it. Penny was forced to compare the bolts of new material to her own meager clothes.
After hours, Ms. Potts sat and read to her. She pointed out words and began teaching Penny the intricacies of sentence structure and syntax. The letters and their corresponding sounds didn't always make sense but she soaked in everything she could. Education for her type of people was few and far between and she would not look a gift horse in the mouth. Penny thought of the worn book of poems her parents left her. Maybe with enough time she could read them.
At dinner, Ms. Potts gave her a soft smile as Penny helped herself to seconds. She stifled the guilt at hiding some food to take up to her room with her. It was survival and though her stomached clenched, she would not be cowed. The smile from the woman's face disappeared after Penny blurted out "Where is Mr. Stark?" in a poor attempt to break the silence.
Hours later, she wasn't sure why she had said it. The words came out with no prompting or premeditated thought. Penny hadn't even really been thinking about the mysterious man which was odd considering she was living in house. Ms. Potts had stopped her fork midway to her mouth and after putting the utensil down in a decided manner, responded that she didn't know. He was busy, she said in a muted tone. The frown she wore after made Penny's stomach churn. Why she had asked?
Midtown was stuck to her like a stain on her mind. It seeped into her, making Penny second guess every action, every kind word someone gave her. It followed, dogging her steps, and as lovely and busy as the day had surely been, Penny was left restless and aching by the end of it. Thoughts of her worn clothes, her surely severe lack of manners, and the food hidden away in the nightstand plagued her. Tucked into bed, her limbs still warm and heavy from Ms. Potts hug, Penny knew sleep would not come easy.
If asked Penny could draw a map of Midtown by memory. Every room and closet. All the creaks in the floors and thin walls. She knew the schedules of everyone, too. Where Mrs. Delores would be and when. When it was safe to move about without getting caught. That was normal. It was what Penny was conditioned to expect.
These were unknown waters and here she was out of her depth. Penny didn't know which stairs creaked or where the closest place to hide was. She'd barely memorized how to get to the kitchen this morning. Her leg twitched but she couldn't stand being in her room any longer with sleep tempting but out of reach. Trouble might come but Penny was determined. It was late and she would be quiet.
"It's fine," she said under her breath.
Penny was going exploring.
The hallways were dark and laden with shadows. Shadows she took advantage of and hid in. One man in a black suit who looked to be younger than Mr. Jarvis walked by and in her haste, Penny pressed herself into a miniature alcove fit for only a child and waited until he passed. Most doors were closed or locked off. Whether darkened for the night or more permanently it wasn't clear.
Her feet ached but her mind stayed wired awake. She stopped to gather her bearings. Should she turn back and pace her bedroom or journey further? Penny happened to look up and down a dimly lit hall going right. The door was robust, large, and the dark wood reflected in the candles closer to her. Worn carpet as if ages of people had journeyed to the room in late night wanderings like her. Entranced by it, Penny walked toward it.
Could this room hold a cavern of treasures or a vault for Mrs. Vern's prized cinnamon recipe? Penny held her breath as she turned the handle. Embers burned low in the fireplace in front of two leather chairs soaking in the slumbering heat. A table piled with books in between them with enough room to place a plate of snacks. On the other side of the room, under stacks of papers and things, was a desk. No one was in sight. Penny took a breath, gathering her courage, and stepped in.
She was aware of how sacred a space this room was. Mrs. Delores hated when one of them came into her office. This room was a bit messy but there was care here. A sort of calming air about it. Her behind stung at the memory of the last time she was caught behind the woman's desk in the prank with Flash. Mrs. Delores would be disappointed the hard-earned lesson had not stuck because Penny walked toward the desk after making sure no one was lurking behind the door. Answers were what she sought and answers were what she would find.
Going through the papers was tedious. Most of what was written could have been in another language for all she knew but Penny searched for anything that looked like the paper she found at Midtown. The document Mrs. Delores showed her, threw in her face, was something she would never forget so Penny searched. Her neck ached and stiffened the longer she stood there. At last her hand touch a raised plane of paper.
The crest, one she now had seen more than once, stood out amongst the pages. Her hand trembled as she picked it up. This was it. She spotted the word 'Midtown' on it. The dread condensed and churned in her stomach outweighed the hope she felt.
No matter their circumstances, what kid in New York didn't know what Christmas was? She saw her name, thanks to Ned's teaching, Mr. Stark's name, and the holiday: Christmas. At the bottom there was a check made out to Midtown. Mrs. Delores had raged when Flash had spilled water all over one of her checks and made sure all of them knew how bad it was. Was this one of them?
Her stomach sank at the realization. Penny knew the extent of this now. She knew it was too good to be true. She shook her head. Mrs. Delores was right. Her mind knew it but it didn't stop her heart from beating at the thought of going back to Midtown. It wasn't absurd that there was hesitancy in her. What surprised Penny was how much in the short time she was gone, she had grown to like Ms. Potts, and even Mrs. Vern and Mr. Jarvis. How much, despite cautioning herself not to get used to it, she didn't want to go back to the dreary walls of Midtown.
Inevitably, paper in hand, her thoughts turned to her parents. Were they looking for her? Would they be able to find her if she wasn't at Midtown? Did they want to find her? Her hands shook. Penny had the urge to crumple the paper in a ball and throw it into the dying fire. Why did everything have to be on other people's terms? Why her?
Tears bubbled up in her eyes. Penny folded the paper and moved to stand in front of the hearth. The embers danced around on their last legs. She stared, bewitched by the red flames. Her hands fisted at her sides as she thought of her next course of action.
This time it would be different. This time Penny would find a way to escape Midtown. She couldn't go back there to the cold dormitory and dark basement; to being hated and made fun of. Most of all she didn't think she could stand the loneliness of it all. The empty bed beside hers tugged at her heart. The constant waiting with no glimmer of hope.
Even if she worked here at Stark Manor after. Mrs. Vern would surely take pity on her or even Mr. Jarvis could find her some cleaning position. It would be better than anything else.
She nodded to herself. It was time she took matters into her hands. Her resolve solidified and anticipation rushed through her bloodstream. The paper still gripped between her fingers. With a split-second decision she folded it and tucked it into the drawstring of her pajamas. She wasn't sure if she was keeping it for posterity or some a reminder of what she was worth.
Overcome with the day, Penny's limbs felt suddenly heavy. She yawned and with a glance toward the leather chairs, settled into the one closest to the fire. Head tucked onto her knees, she warmed as the fire crackled on. Her eyes closed before she could think about moving any further. She could sleep here undisturbed by dreams, Penny thought. Darkness came with ease and still the fire crackled into the night.
The door creaked as it slid open. Ms. Potts stepped into the room. She froze at the small bundle of flower-patterned pajamas curled up in one of the chairs. The child slept on, impossibly small and young looking. The dark circles gone under the firelight and, she hoped, with the much-needed rest. Her head tilted to the side at an odd angle. Ms. Potts walked forward and only after a moment's hesitation nudged the girl's shoulder, whispering her name.
Penny was awake in an instant shaking the hand off and stumbling from the seat. She jumped back from the spot she fell asleep at, moved to the away from the center of the room so the heat stroked the back of her legs. Her hands grasped the material too tight on her chest as her eyes roamed wildly around the room. Ms. Potts hands were frozen in front of her as the woman's eyes tracked her erratic movements.
"Ms. Potts! I- I was just… I'm sorry..."
"Penny! What are you doing out of bed?"
"I swear… I'm so sorry."
Penny wiped the back of her hand against her eyes, ignoring the trembling. Ms. Potts came closer to her. Her eyes followed as Penny back away to the edge of the hearth. Her frail, tiny figure shaking the closer she got to the heat. Penny's eyes were dotted with sleep and, if she looked close enough, tears were forming.
"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not angry. I can only image what it's like being in a new place away from… home." Penny barely listened and nodded, another apology out of her lips. "Let's not worry about it, shall we? Many a person has been tempted by the fire in this room. It's rather cozy, isn't it? Anthony has always like it." She said with a far off look in her eyes. "Let's get you in bed and tomorrow we can do something the fun."
Heat burned across her neck. It took too long for her to unwind and move toward Ms. Potts but Penny couldn't stop the shaking until her breathing calmed. After making sure the sincerity, and that was not concern, in Ms. Potts's eyes was real, she stepped away from the hearth. Penny glanced at Ms. Potts from under her hair. The woman stayed were she was and a small part of her wanted her to wrap her arms around Penny and tell her everything was okay.
Penny followed with one look toward the comforting chair she slept in, aware of the paper on her person. The uncomfortable feeling of being caught in a place she wasn't supposed to was gone by the time Ms. Potts sat on the edge of her bed. The woman's hands busied themselves straightening the bedding around her. Penny listened as her soothing voice remained low and calm, never referencing where she found Penny.
She wondered if Ms. Potts had any children. A son or maybe even a daughter who she would smooth down the covers for at night, teach them how to read and write. The woman's hugs were warm and Penny couldn't stop how much she earned for them even in the height of her anguish earlier.
A strange feeling in her chest itched when Ms. Potts tucked a curl behind her ear.
With eyes closing of their own accord, Penny vowed once more. She would do it. Any way possible.
She would never go to Midtown again.
Rope dangled off the back of the chair. One end scrapping against the concrete ground while the other knotted in the back bars of the seat. Her eyes froze on it; couldn't move from it if they tried. The lights flickered. Penny's body tensed as she remembered the long hours trapped there. The basement walls closing in and her cries echoing as her only company.
Something moved. Ms. Potts stood at the doorframe, arms crossed in front of her chest as she stared down at Penny. A tall shadowed figure stood menacing behind her shrouded from sight. Her eyes were dark and hooded now, so different from the kind set to them from before.
"We don't want you here" She said with a twisted smile. Penny's heart seized as Ms. Potts turned and began walking away. Penny reached out but found herself in the chair. The ropes took life and grabbed her arms, pulling her closer and further away from the leaving woman. They twisted and cut into her wrists not even her tears could lessen the sting. A wounded whimper escaped her but still Ms. Potts didn't turn around. Mrs. Delores laughed from somewhere behind her. Tears raced down her cheeks and still the shadowed man remained.
The figure stepped forward into the light. A knight's helmet glinted in place of a head. Penny stopped struggling and fell back against the chair. She ignored the wetness on her cheeks and the burning in her wrists. She could barely even breath when the figure pulled a sword out. Longer than she was tall; Its sharp edges gleamed as the knight raised it above its head. Penny cried out but the sword plunged forward and down toward her. Her wide pupils were the last thing she saw in the reflection of the weapon.
Penny woke with a cry. She shivered and felt the sweat under her arms in a bed that was too big for anyone. The moon was high in the night sky, shinning a faint glow into the room. Between the tears falling Penny watched it hover there. Such a steady thing, it was. It was there ever changing in shape through its waxes and wanes. It would always be there no matter what. She could only see wisps of the moon from her room at Midtown, could never see it from the basement. But it didn't stop the knowledge that it would go on no matter what happened to her and long after she was gone. The moon remained unchanged despite how it appeared to Earth and there was something comforting in that.
Her breathed hitched at the thought of her dream.
Penny reached under her bed. Her hand came across the paper she found in the office earlier that night but left it alone lying on the floor. Instead, she grabbed the book her parents left her. She traced the edges of the binding. Felt the rough and fraying sides before bringing it flush to her chest. It was the only real evidence of a family lost that she had. The proof that she hadn't always been at Midtown, that she was something more even if it was nothing more than a dream now.
Her parents too were nothing more than a dream. They hadn't been real for a long time now; just an idea she clung to late at night. It was strange though, because this room, these clothes, and people around her were real and yet she couldn't convince herself this wasn't a dream either. It was a fairytale, one Mrs. Delores told with startling malice. 'Not the happy ones,' she always told them. They were the real ones. The stories where Cinderella's sisters cut off their toes and the mermaids die. That was life, dreaming or not, and Penny knew it was up to her to work to what she wanted. Fairytales and dreams may comfort in the long hours of the night but come morning all that was left was a sad princess and shoes that don't fit.
The knot in her chest twisted. Her dreams had long been stunted. She felt like she couldn't want for more, shouldn't be allowed for more. And the question plaguing her took shape again.
What dreams waited for her if her waking life was the nightmare?
Thanks so much for reading.